Part 21

"A private letter adds the following testimony to the above statement, 'Since the arrival of this lady, her manners, and I may say the countenance and figure of Bonaparte appear to be wholly altered. From being reserved and dejected, he has become gay and communicative. No more complaints are heard about inconveniences at Longwood. He has intimated to Sir Hudson his determination to apply to the Pope for a dispensation to dissolve his marriage with Maria Louisa, and to sanction his indissoluble union with the enchanting Caraboo.'"

However, corroboration of this strange story is wanting.

Fat Folks.--Lambert and Bright.

About the centre of the new burial-ground of St. Martin's Stamford Baron, is a black slate inscribed with gilt letters to the memory of that immense mass of mortality, Daniel Lambert, the most popularly known of "Fat Folks."

"Altus in animo, in Corpore Maximus. In remembrance of that prodigy in nature, Daniel Lambert, a native of Leicester, Who was possessed of an exalted and convivial mind; and, in personal greatness had no competitor. He measured 3 ft. 1 in. round the leg; and weighed 52 st. 11 lbs.! He departed this life on the 21st June, 1809, aged 39 years. As a testimony of respect, this Stone is erected by his friends in Leicester."

Daniel Lambert was born on the 13th of March, 1770, at Leicester. His parents were not persons of remarkable dimensions: but he had an uncle and aunt on the father's side who were both very heavy.

At the age of 19, young Lambert began to imagine that he should be a heavy man. He possessed extraordinary muscular power, and at the above age could lift great weights, and carry five-hundred weight with ease. He succeeded his father in the office of keeper of the prison at Leicester, within a year after which his bulk began rapidly to increase, owing to his confinement and sedentary life. Though he never possessed any extraordinary agility, he was able to kick to the height of seven feet, standing on one leg.

About the year 1793, when Lambert weighed 32 stone, he walked from Woolwich to London, with much less apparent fatigue than several middle-sized men who were his companions. Upon this Mr. Wadd remarks: "It is clear, therefore, that he was a strong, active man, and continued so after the disease had made great progress; and I think it may fairly be inferred that he would not have fallen a sacrifice so early in life, if he had possessed fortitude enough to meet the evil, and to have opposed it with determined perseverance."

Lambert was very expert in swimming, and taught hundreds of the young people of Leicester. His power of floating, owing to his uncommon bulk, was so great that he could swim with two men of ordinary size upon his back. He proved a humane keeper of the prison, and upon his retirement from the office, the magistrates settled upon him an annuity of 50_l._ for life, without any solicitation.

He now lived a life of leisure at Leicester, but his uncommon corpulence brought him many visitors; and he at length found that he must either submit to be a close prisoner in his own house, or endure the inconveniences without receiving any of the profits of an exhibition. He then determined to visit London; and as it was impossible to procure a carriage large enough to admit him, he had a vehicle built to convey him to the metropolis, where he arrived in the spring of 1806, and fixed his abode in Piccadilly. Here he was visited by much company. Among them was the celebrated Polish dwarf, Count Boruwlaski, who had before seen Lambert at Birmingham; the little man exclaimed that he had seen the face twenty years ago, but it was not surely the same body. In the course of conversation, Lambert asked what quantity of cloth the Count required for a coat, and how many he thought his would make him. "Not many," answered Boruwlaski; "I take good large piece of cloth myself--almost tree-quarters of a yard." At this rate, one of Lambert's sleeves would have abundantly sufficed for the purpose. The Count felt one of Mr. Lambert's legs, "Ah, mine Got!" he exclaimed, "pure flesh and blood; I feel de warm. No deception, I am pleased, for I did hear it was deception." Mr. Lambert asked if the Count's lady was alive; to which he replied, "No, she is dead, and I am not very sorry, for when I affront her, she put me on the mantel-shelf for punishment."[30]

[30] See portrait of Boruwlaski, page 259.

In September, 1806, Lambert returned to Leicester, but repeated his visit in the following year, and fixed his abode in Leicester Square. Here, for the first time, he felt inconvenienced by the atmosphere of the metropolis; accordingly, by the advice of Dr. Heaviside, his physician, Lambert returned to his native place. He then made a tour through the principal cities and towns of England, and proved as attractive in the provinces as he had formerly been in the metropolis. He now enjoyed excellent health, and felt perfectly at ease, either while sitting up or lying in bed. His diet was plain, and the quantity moderate. For many years he never drank anything stronger than water. He slept well, but scarcely so much as other persons, and his respiration was as free as any moderately-sized individual. His countenance was manly and intelligent; he possessed great information, much ready politeness, and conversed with ease and facility. He had a powerful and melodious tenor voice, and his articulation was perfectly clear and unembarrassed.

Lambert had, however, for some time shown dropsical symptoms. In June 1809, he was weighed at Huntingdon, and by the Caledonian balance was found to be 52 stone 11 lb. (14 lb. to the stone), 10st. 4lb. heavier than Bright, the miller of Malden. His measure round the body was three yards four inches, and one yard one inch round the leg.

A few days after this measurement, on June 20th, he arrived from Huntingdon, at the Wagon and Horses Inn, St. Martin's, Stamford, where preparations were made to receive company the next day, and during Stamford races. He was announced for exhibition; he gave his orders cheerfully, without any presentiment that they were to be his last: he was then in bed, only fatigued from his journey, but anxious to be able to see company early in the morning. Before nine o'clock however, the day following, he was a corpse! He died in his apartment on the ground-floor of the inn, for he had long been incapable of walking up-stairs.

His interment was an arduous labour. His coffin measured six feet four inches long, four feet four inches wide, and two feet four inches deep, and contained one hundred and twelve superficial feet of elm. It was built upon two axletrees and four wheels; the room-door and wall of the room in which he lay were taken down to allow of his exit, and thus his remains were drawn to the place of interment at St. Martin's, Stamford. His grave was dug with a gradual slope for several yards; and upwards of twenty men were employed for nearly half-an-hour in getting the massive corpse into its resting-place: the immense substance of the legs made the coffin, of necessity, at most a square case. The funeral was attended by thousands of persons from Stamford and the country many miles round.

At the Wagon and Horses Inn were preserved two suits of Lambert's clothes: seven ordinarily-sized men were repeatedly enclosed within his waistcoat, without breaking a stitch or straining a button; each suit of clothes cost 20_l._ His name was remembered for a time as a tavern sign: one on the north side of Ludgate Street remained till within a few years.

The great weight of Edward Bright, the miller of Malden, has been incidentally mentioned. He died on November 10th, 1750, at the age of 30. He was an active man till within a year or two of his death; when his corpulency so overpowered his strength, that his life was a burthen to him; yet, as we have seen, he was ten stone four pounds lighter than Lambert. Mr. Wadd says it is supposed that Bright's weight at his death was forty-four stone, or 616 pounds.

Horace Walpole relates the following story of Bright's weight backed against that of the Duke of Cumberland:--"There has been a droll cause in Westminster Hall: a man laid another a wager that he produced a person who should weigh as much again as the Duke. When they had betted, they recollected not knowing how to desire the Duke to step into the scale. They agreed to establish his weight at twenty stone, which, however, is supposed to be two more than he weighs. One Bright was then produced, who is since dead, and who actually weighed forty-two stone and a half. As soon as he was dead, the person who had lost objected that he had been weighed in his clothes, and though it was impossible to suppose that his clothes could weigh above two stone, they went to law. There were the Duke's twenty stone bawled over a thousand times,--but the righteous law decided against the man who had won!"

Bright, when twelve years old, weighed one hundred and forty-four pounds; and there was another boy in Malden at the same time, fourteen years of age, who weighed as much.

There was, however, an Essex man, who not only attained a great weight, but lived to a great age, which is remarkable among persons of this class. This was James Mansfield, a butcher, who died at the village of Debden, on November 9th, 1862, in his 82nd year. Though not above the ordinary height, he measured nine feet round and weighed thirty-three stone. When sitting in his chair, made especially for his use, his abdomen covered his knees and hung down almost to the ground. When he lay down, it was necessary to pack his head to prevent suffocation: he could only lie upon one side. He was exhibited, in 1851, in Leicester Square, as "the greatest man in the world." In a suit of his clothes four ordinarily-sized men might be comfortably buttoned up. Mansfield, just before his death, was a hale old man, of good constitution, and a sanguine and happy temperament.

Corpulency naturally subjects its bearers to some of

"The thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to."

Among these inconveniences is the absolute prohibition from horsemanship, and the difficulty of transportation from place to place, which may be illustrated by the following anecdotes, related by Mr. Wadd, in _Brande's Journal_, 1828:--

Mr. B.----, of Bath, a remarkably large, corpulent, and powerful man, wanting to go by the mail, tried for a place a short time before it started. Being told it was full, he still determined to get admission, and opening the door, which no one near him ventured to oppose, he got in. When the other passengers came, the ostler reported that there was a gentleman in the coach; he was requested to come out, but having drawn up the blind, he remained quiet. Hearing, however, a consultation on the means of making him alight, and a proposal to "pull him out," he let down the blind, and laying his enormous hand on the edge of the door, he asked, who would dare to pull him out, drew up the blind again, and waiting some time, fell asleep. About one in the morning he awoke, and calling out to know whereabout he was on the journey, he perceived, what was the fact, that to end the altercation with him, the horses had been put to another coach, and that he had spent the night at the inn-door at Bath, where he had taken possession of the carriage.

A similar occurrence took place at Huddersfield. A gentleman went to a proprietor of one of the coaches to take a place for Manchester, but owing to the enormous size of his person he was refused, unless he would consent to be taken as lumber, at 9_d._ per stone, hinting at the same time the advantage of being split in two. The gentleman was not to be disheartened by this disappointment, but adopted the plan of sending the ostler of one of the inns to take a place for him, which he did, and in the morning wisely took the precaution by fixing himself in the coach, with the assistance of the bystanders, from whence he was not to be removed easily. There placed, he was taken to his destination. The consequence was, on his return he was necessitated to adopt a similar process, to the no small disappointment of the proprietors, who were compelled to convey three gentlemen who had previously taken their places in a chaise, as there was no room beside this importunate passenger, who weighed about thirty-six stone.

A Cure for Corpulence.

In 1863, a philanthropist laid before the public the narrative of a man who was tremendously fat, who tried hard for years to thin himself, and who at last succeeded. Mr. Banting, the gentleman who had the courage and good feeling to write and publish this narrative, not long before, measured 5ft. 5in., and weighed about 14-1/4 stone. He owns that he had a great deal to bear from his unfortunate make. In the first place, the little boys in the streets laughed at him; in the next place, he could not tie his own shoes; and, lastly, he had, it appears, to come down-stairs backwards. But he was a man who struggled gallantly, and whatever he was recommended to do, he honestly tried to carry out. He drank mineral waters, and consulted physicians, and took sweet counsel with innumerable friends, but all was in vain. He lived upon sixpence a-day, and earned it, so that the favourite recipe of Abernethy failed in his case. He went into all sorts of vapour baths and shampooing baths. He took no less than ninety Turkish baths, but nothing did him any good; he was still as fat as ever. A kind friend recommended increased bodily exertion every morning, and nothing seemed more likely to be effectual than rowing. So this stout warrior with fat got daily into a good, safe, heavy boat, and rowed a couple of hours. But he was only pouring water into the bucket of the Danaides. What he gained in one way he lost in another. His muscular vigour increased; but then, with this there came a prodigious appetite which he felt compelled to indulge, and consequently he got fatter than he had been. At last he hit upon the right adviser, who told him what to do, and whose advice was so successful that Mr. Banting could soon walk down-stairs forwards, put his old clothes quite over the suit that now fitted him, and, far from being made the victim of unkind or ill-judged chaff, was universally congratulated on his pleasant and becoming appearance. The machinery by which this change was effected was of a very simple kind. He was told to leave off eating anything but meat. It appears that none of his numerous friendly advisers, and none of the physicians he consulted, penetrated so far into the secresy of his domestic habits as to have discovered that twice a day he used formerly to indulge in bowls of bread and milk. The Solomon who saved him cut off this great feeder of fat, and since then Mr. Banting has been a thinner and a happier man.--_Abridged from the Saturday Review._

Epitaphs on Fat Folks.

In the year 1755, died the great tallow-chandler whose life and death are thus laconically recorded on his tombstone:--

Here lies in earth an honest fellow, Who died by fat, and lived by tallow.

Another corpulent person is thus lamented:--

Here lies the body of Thomas Dollman, A vastly _fat_, though not a very tall man; Full twenty stone he weighed, yet I am told, His captain thought him worth his weight in gold: Grim Death, who ne'er to nobody shows favour, Hurried him off for all his good behaviour; Regardless of his weight, he bundled him away, 'Fore any one "Jack Robinson" could say.

A moral lesson is given in the following:--

But why he grew so fat i' th' waist, Now mark ye the true reason, When other people used to fast, He feasted in that season. So now, alas! hath cruel Death Laid him in his sepulchre.

* * * * *

Therefore, good people, here 'tis seen, You plainly may see here, That fat men sooner die than lean, Witness Fat Johnny Holder.

The son of a Dean, a man of very spare habit, expressing to the son of a Bishop his astonishment at the great difference of the size of their fathers, the Bishop being very fat, he explained the reason in the following extempore parody of the old song:--

There's a difference between A Bishop and a Dean, And I'll tell you the reason why: A Dean cannot dish up A dinner like a Bishop, To feed such a fat son as I.

Count Boruwlaski, the Polish Dwarf.

One of the best attested cases of dwarfish existence on record is that of Joseph Boruwlaski, the Polish dwarf, who was the delight of our grandfathers, and who, after the age of _seventy_, suddenly found himself able with his hand to raise the latch of a door which up to that period he had always raised with a stick. How many inches he grew is not recorded, but the fact of his growth is sufficiently astonishing, and is only paradoxical so long as we continue to hold the general opinion that "men do not grow after reaching maturity," whereas, in strict language, we must admit that they _grow_ as long as they live, but do not normally surpass the standard of maturity; growth continues, but only to supply the waste, not enough, as in childhood, to supply the waste and furnish _surplus_ for the increase.

Count Joseph Boruwlaski is, in many respects, the most interesting dwarf of whom we have accurate records, and he has written his own memoir to complete our interest. He has given us his height at various epochs as follows:--

Ft. In. At one year old he measured 0 11 At three „ „ 1 2 At six „ „ 1 5 At ten „ „ 1 9 At fifteen years old he measured 2 1 At twenty „ „ 2 4 At twenty-five „ „ 2 11 At thirty „ „ 3 3

[Illustration: Count Boruwlaski in disgrace with his wife.]

Here he stopped until he was seventy. He was born at Chaliez, in Russian Poland, November, 1739, of noble parents, who were richer in pedigree than in land or money. They were both well formed, healthy, and of the ordinary size; yet of their six children, three were dwarfs; and, to add to the singularity, the dwarfs _alternated_ with well-formed children. Joseph was 8 inches in length when born, yet perfectly well-formed, and he sucked with infantine success, walking and talking at about the usual age.

On reaching his ninth year, he lost his father, who left a widow and six children very ill-provided for. Luckily, a friend of the widow, a Madame de Caorliz, adopted Joseph, and with her the boy spent four happy years. His benefactress then married, and this event produced a change in his fortunes. A dwarf so remarkable was naturally enough an envied possession; and the Countess Humieska, a very great person indeed, felt the desire natural in so great a person, to have this among her curiosities. Domiciled with the great Countess, Joseph began to taste the splendours and luxuries of courts. They travelled through Poland, Germany, and France, and everywhere he was the lion of the hour. At Vienna he was presented to Maria Theresa, who, pleased with his courtly compliments, kissed him, and complimented the Countess on her travelling companion. On another occasion, Joseph, in the lap of the Empress, who had sixteen children of her own, and doted on them, was looking at the hand in which his own was clasped, and which flashed light from a ring bearing her cipher in brilliants. She asked him if he was pleased with the ring; he told her it was the _hand_ he looked at, and at the same time raised it to his lips. The flattered Empress insisted on giving him the ring; but alas! it was too large, whereupon she called to a young lady of about six years old, and taking from her a fine diamond ring, placed it on Joseph's finger: this young lady was Marie Antoinette.

From Vienna the travellers proceeded to Munich, and thence, after countless fêtes, they went to Luneville, the court of Stanislas Leckzinski, titular King of Poland. Here Joseph met the dwarf Bébé, of whom Boruwlaski gives this account:--"With this prince (Stanislas) lived the famous Bébé, till then considered the most extraordinary dwarf that was ever seen; and who was, indeed, perfectly well proportioned, and with a pleasant physiognomy, but who (I am sorry to say it, for the honour of us dwarfs) had all the defects in his mind and way of thinking which are commonly attributed to us. He was at that time about thirty,[31] and his height two feet eight inches; and when measured, it appeared that I was much shorter, being no more than two feet four inches. At our first interview he showed much fondness for me; but, on perceiving that I preferred the company and conversation of sensible people, and above all, when he perceived that the King took pleasure in my society, he conceived the most violent jealousy and hatred of me; so that I escaped his fury only by a miracle. One day, we were both in the apartment of his Majesty, who caressed me, and asked me several questions, testifying his pleasure and approbation of my replies in the most affectionate manner. Then addressing Bébé, he said: 'You see, Bébé, what a difference there is between him and you. He is amiable, cheerful, entertaining, and instructed, whereas you are but a little machine.' At these words I saw fury sparkle in his eyes; he answered nothing, but his countenance and blush proved how violently he was agitated. A moment after, the King having gone into his cabinet, Bébé availed himself of the opportunity to execute his revengeful projects; and slyly approaching, seized me by the waist, and endeavoured to push me on to the fire. Luckily, I laid hold with both hands of the iron prop which sustained the tongs and poker, and thus prevented his wicked intentions. The noise I made in defending myself brought back the king to my assistance. He afterwards called the servants, and ordered Bébé corporal punishment. In vain did I intercede."

[31] Joseph is in error here; Bébé was two years his junior, but precocity of development made him appear to be thirty, though really only about seventeen.

On quitting the court of Stanislas, Boruwlaski visited that of Versailles, where the Queen, the Duke of Orleans, and other distinguished personages, made as much of him as vanity could desire. The Count Orginski, finding he had a taste for music, provided him a master for the guitar. At the table of this nobleman, he one day allowed himself to be concealed in a large vase, which was placed amid the dishes, and to which the attention of the guests was directed, till their curiosity was fairly roused, expecting some rarity surpassing all the delicacies of the already sumptuous banquet; and then Joseph suddenly stood up, amid shouts of laughter.