# The Remarkable History of the Miser of Berkshire

THE
REMARKABLE
HISTORY
OF THE
Miser of Berkshire:
JOHN ELWES, ESQ.
MEMBER OF THREE SUCCESSIVE PARLIA-
MENTS FOR THAT COUNTY.
With Singular Anecdotes, &c.
Supposed to be the greatest instance of Penury
that ever existed.
WRITTEN BY
CAPTAIN TOPHAM.
A Miser is an Enemy to Mankind; for how can be feel
for others who is ever cruel to himself? His breast
is steeled against Humanity: His Heart knows
no Mirth; nor does the Tear of Sensibility
bedew his Cheek. Gold. that's a Blessing
to others, to him doth prove a Curse:
Care torments him, and he
has no Comforter.
O'KEEFFE.
FALKIRK
PRINTED AND SOLD BY T. JOHNSTON.
1810.
THE
HISTORY
OF
JOHN ELWES, ESQ.
MEGGOT was the family name of Mr. Elwes; and his name being John, the conjunction of Jack Meggot induced strangers to imagine sometimes that his friends were addressing him by an assumed appellation. The father of Mr. Elwes was an eminent brewer; and his dwelling-house and offices were situated in South-wark; which borough was formerly represented in parliament by his grandfather, Sir George Meggot. During his life, he purchased the estate now in possession of the family of the Calverts, at Marcham, in Berkshire.
The father died when the late Mr. Elwes was only 4 years old so that little of the singular character of Mr Elwes is to be attributed to him: but from the mother it may be traced with ease. She was left nearly one hundred thousand pounds by her husband, and yet starved herself to death!
The only children from the above marriage, were Mr. Elwes, and a daughter, who married ​the father of the late Colonel Timms; and from thence came the intail of some part of his estate.
Mr. Elwes, at an early period of life, was sent to Westminster School, where he remained ten or twelve years. He certainly during that time, had not misapplied his talents; for he was a good classical scholar to the last; and it is a circumstance very remarkable, yet well authenticated, that he never read afterwards. Never, at any period of his future life, was he seen with a book; nor had he, in all his different houses, left behind him two pounds worth of literary furniture. His knowledge in accounts was little; and, in sore measure, may account for his toral ignorance as to his own concerns. The contemporaries of Mr. Elwes, at Westminster, were Mr Worsley, late Master of the Board of Works, and the late Lord Manfield; who, at that time, borrowed all that yourg Elwes would lend. His Lord hip, however, afterwards changed his disposition.
Mr Elwes from Westminster School removed to Geneva, where he shortly after entered upon parsuits more congenial to his temper than study. The riding master of the academy had then three of the best horsemen in Europe for his pupils; viz. Mr. Worsley, Mr Elwes, and Sir Sidney Meadows. Elwes of the three was accounted the most desperate: the young horses were put into his hands always; and he was, in fact the rough-rider of the other two He was introduced, during this period, to Voltaire, whom, in point of appearance, he somewhat ​resembled; but though he has often mentioned this circumstance, neither the genius, the fortune, nor the character, of Voltaire, ever seemed to strike him as worthy of envy.
Returning to England, after an absence of two or three years, he was to be introduced to his uncle, the late Sir Harvey Elwes, who was then living at Stoke, in Suffolk, the most perfect picture of human penury perhaps that ever existed. In him the attempts of saving money were so extraordinary, that Mr. Elwes never quite reached them, even at the most covetous period of his life.!
To this Sir Harvey Elwes he was to be heir, and of course it was policy to please him. On the account it was necessary even in old Mr. Elwes, to masquerade a little; and as he was at that time in the world and its affairs, he dressed like other people. This would not have done for Sir Harvey. The nephew, therefore used to stop at a litele inn at Chelmsford, and begin to dress in character. — A pair of small iron buckles, worsted stockings darned, a worn out old coat, and a tattered waistcoat, were put on; and forwards he rode to visit his uncle : who used to contemplate him with a kind of miserable satisfaction, and seemed pleased to find his heir bidding fair to rival him in the unaccountable pursuit of avarice. There they would sit-saving souls! — with a single stick upon the fire, and with one glass of wine, occasionally, betwist then, inveighing against the extravagance of the times, and when evening shut in, they would ​immediately retire to rest, as going to bed saved candle-light. — The nephew, however, had then what indeed, he never lost—a very extraordinary appetite — and this would have been an unpardonable offence in the eye of his uncle! Mr Elwes was therefore obliged to partake of a dinner first, with some country neighbour, and then return to his uncle with a little diminutive appetite, that quite engaged the heart of the old gentleman.— A partridge, a small pudding, and one potatoe, did the whole business! and the fire was even suffered to die away while Sir Harvey was at dinner, as eating was a sufficient exercise.
Sir Harvey, in truth, was a most singular character, and the way in which he lived was no less so. His ceclusion from the world nearly reached that of an hermit: and, extreme avarice excepted, a more blameless life was never led by mortal.
SKETCH OF SIR HARVEY ELWES.
Sir Harvey Elwes succeded Sir Jervaise, a very worthy gentleman, who had involved, as far as they would go, all the estates he received, and left behind him.—Sir Harvey, on his death, found himself possessed nominally of some thousands a-year, but really with an income of one hundred pourds per annum.—On his arrival at Stoke, the family seat, he said, "that never would he leave it till he had entirely cleared the paternal estate."—This he not only accomplished, but, ​besides, lived to realize above one hundred thousand pounds. — In youth he had been given over for a consumption, so that he had no constitusion; and no passions — He was timid, shy, and diffident in the extreme: of a thin spare habit of body, and without a friend upon earth. —The hoarding up and the counting his money formed the greatest joy. Next to that was partridge-setting; at which he was so great an adept, and game was then so plentiful, that he has been known to take five hundred brace of birds in one season! — But he lived upon partridges, he and his whole household, consisting of one man and two maids. — What they cou'd not eat, he turned loose again, as he never gave any thing away to his neighbours — Sir Harvey and his man never missed a day, during the partridge season, if the weather was tolerable; and his breed of dogs being remarkably good, he seldom failed taking great quantities of game.
At all times he wore a black velvet cap much over his face; a worn-out full-dressed suit of cloaths, and an old great coat, with worsted stockings drawn up over his knees — He rode a thin thorough-bred horse, and the horse and his rider both looked as if a gust of wind would have blown them away together— when the weather was not fine enough to tempt him abroad, he would walk backwards and forwards in his old hall, to save the expense of fire. — If a farmer in his neighbourhood came in on business, he would strike a light in a tinder-box that he kept by him, and putting one single stick ​upon the grate, would not add another until the first was nearly consumed — Having little connection with London, he generally had three or four thousand pounds at a time in his house — A set of fellows, who were afterwards known by the appellation of the Thaxted Gang, (and who were afterwards all hung) formed a plan to rob him.— They were totally unsuspected at that time, each having some apparent occupation during the day, and went out only at night, upon good intelligence. It was Sir Harvey's custom to retire to his bed-chamber at eight o'clock: where, after taking: a bason of water-gruel, by the light of a small fire, he went to bed, to save the unnecessary extravagance of a candle.— The gang who perfectly knew the hour when his ſervant went to the ſtable, leaving their horſes in a ſmall grove on the Eſſex ſide of the river, walked across, and hid themſelves in the church porch till they ſaw the man come up to his horſes, when they immediately fell upon him, and, after ſome little ſtruggle, bound and gagged him; ran up towards the houſe, tied the two maids together, and going up to Sir Harvey, presented their pisto's, and sternly demanded his money.— Never did Sir Harvey behave ſo well as in this tranſaction: When the villains aſked for his money, he would give then no anſwer till they had aſſured him that his ſervant, a great favourite, was safe. He then delivered them the key of a drawer, in which was fifty guineas: But they well knew he had much more in the houſe, and again threatened his life, without he diſcovered where it was depoſited. — At length he reluctantly ſhewed them the ​place and they turned out a large drawer, which contained twenty-seven hundred guineas! — This they picked up in two large baſkets, and actually carried off! A robbery which, for quantity of ſpecie, was perhaps never equalled. — They told him before they went of, that they ſhould leave a man behind, who would murder him if he even ſtirred for aſſiſtance.—On which be very cooly, and, indeed, with some ſimplicity, took out his watch, which they had not aſked him for, and ſaid, Gentlemen, I do not want to take any advantage of you; therefore, upon my honour, I will give you twenty minutes for your eſcape: After that time, nothing ſhall prevent me from ſeeing my ſervant. He was ſtrictly as good as his word; when the time expired, he went and untied the man — Tho' ſearch was made by the juſtice of the village, the robbers were not diſcovered — And when they were apprehended, ſome years afterwards for other offences, and were known to be the men who had robbed Sir Harvey, he would not appear against them:—No, no, ſaid he, I have loſt my money: I will not loſe my time alſo. So that however culpable he may be conſidered on the ſcore of penury, he may certainly be acquitted of the paſſion of revenge.
Of what temperance can effect, Sir Harvey was an inſtance: At an early period of life, he was given over for a conſumption; and he lived till betwixt eighty and ninety years of age.
Amongſt the few acquaintances he had (and they were few indeed) was an occasional club held ​at his own village of Stoke; and there were members of it two Baronets, beſides himſelf, Sir Cordwell Firebraſs,' and Sir John Barnardſton. — The reckoning to theſe congenial ſouls was always an object of inveſtigation — as they were one day ſettling this difficult point, an odd fellow, who was a member, called out to a friend that was paſſing, For Heaven's ſake ſtep upſtairs, and aſſiſt the poor! Here are three Baronets, worth a million of money, quarrelling about a farthing!
After Sir Harvey's death the only tear dropped on his grave, fell from the eye of his ſervant, who had long and faithfully atttended him.—Tο that ſervant he bequeathed a farm of 50 l. per annum, to him and to his heirs.
In the chaſtity and abſtinence of his life, Sir Harvey Elwes was a rival to Sir Iſaac Newton, for he would have held it unpardonable to have given--even his affections; and, as he ſaw no lady whatever, he had but little chance of bartering matrimonially for money.
When he died, he lay in ſtate, ſuch as it was, at his ſeat at Stoke. — Some of the tenants obſerved, with more humour than decency, that it was well Sir Harry could not ſee it — his fortune, which had become immenſe, fell to his nephew Mr. Meggot, who, by will, was ordered to aſſume the name and arms of Elwes — Thus lived, and thus died, the Uncle of old Mr Elwes, whoſe poſſeſions, at the time of his death, were ſuppoſed to be at leaſt two hundred and fifty thouſand pounds; and whoſe ​annual expenditure was about one hundred and ten pounds! — Tho' the robbery before mentioned probably did not accelerate his death, yet it lay heavy on his ſpirits; but more particularly when employed in the delightful talk of counting his gol'. However incredible this may appear, yet it is ſtrictly true, that his cloaths cost him nothing, for he took them out of an old cheſt, where they had lain ſince the gay days of Sir Jervaiſe. — He kept his houſehold chiefly upon game, and fiſh from his own pond. The cows, which grazed before his own door, furniſhed milk, cheeſe, and butter, for his little economical household; and what fuel he did burn, his woods ſupplied — To thoſe who cannot exit out of the buſtle of ſociety, and the fever of public ſcenes, it may be curious to know, that he was a man who had the courage to live, as it were, nearly ſeventy years alone!
To the whole of his uncle's property Mr. Elwes succeeded; and it was imagined, that his own was not at the time very inferior—He got, too, an additional seat; but he got it, as it had been, most religiously delivered down for ages past. — The furniture was most sacredly antique!—Not a room was painted, nor a window repaired! — The beds above stairs, were all in canopy and state; where the worms and maths held undisturbed possesion!
Mr. Elwes had now advanced beyond the 40th year of his age; and for 15 years previous to this period it was that he was known in all the fashionable circles of London — He had always a turn for play; and it was only late in life, and ​from paying always, and not always being paid that he conceived disgust at the inclination.
The acquaintances which he had formed at Westminster School, and at Geneva, together with his own large fortune, all conspired to introduce him into whatever society he liked best — He was admitted a member of the club at Arthur's, and various other clubs of that period — And as some proof of his notoriety at that time as a man of deep play, Mr. Elwes, the late Lord Robert Bertie, and some others, are noticed in a scene in the Adventures of a Guinea, for the frequency of their midnight orgies. — Few men, even from his own acknowledgment, had played deeper than himself, and with success more various. — He once played two days and a night without intermision; and the room being a small one, the party were nearly up to the knees in cards. — He lost ſome thouſands at that ſitting.—The late Duke of Northumberland, who would never quit a table where any hope of winning remained, was of the party.
After ſitting up a whole night at play, for thouſands with the moſt fahionable and profligate men of the time, amidſt ſplendid rooms, gilt ſophas, wax lights, and waiters attendent on his call, he would walk out about four in the morning, not towards home, but into Smithfield, to meet his cattle, which were coming to market, from Thaydon Hall, a farm of his in Eſſex: There would this ſame man, forgetful of the ſcenes he had juſt left; ſtand in the cold or rain, bartering with a carcaſe ​butcher for a ſhilling—Sometimes he would walk on in the mire to meet them; and more than once he has gone on foot the whole way to his farm, without ſtopping, which was 17 miles from London, after ſitting up the whole night! Had every man been of the mind of Mr. Elwes, the race of Innkeepers muſt have periſhed; and poſt chaiſes have been turned back to thoſe who made them; for it was the buſiness of his life to avoid both!
He always travelled on horſe-back — To ſee him ſetting out on a journey was a matter truly curious! His firſt care was to put two or three eggs, boiled hard, into his great coat pocket, or any ſcraps of bread which he found. — His next attention was, to get out of London into that road where the turnpikes were the feweſt; then ſtopping under any hedge where graſs preſented itſelf for his horſe, and a little water for himſelf, he would ſit down and refreſh himſelf and his horſe together!
An inn upon the road, and an apothecary's bill, were equal objects of averſion to Mr. Elwes. The words Give and Pay, were not found in his vocabulary; and therefore, when he once received a very dangerous kick from one of his horſes, who fell in going over a leap, none could perſuade him to have any affitance --He rode the chaſe through, with his leg cut to the bone! and it was only some days afterwards, when it was feared an amputation would be neceſſary, that he conſented to go up to London, and, diſmal day! part with fome of his money for advice. ​One day he put his eldeſt boy upon a ladder, to get ſome grapes for the table, when, by the ladder ſlipping, he fell down, and hurt his ſide: The boy had the precaution to go to a Surgeon and get blooded: On his return, his father aſked where he had been, and what was the matter with his arm? He told him that he had got bled. — Bled! bled! ſaid the old gentleman: But what did you give? A ſhilling, anſwered the boy.— Pſhaw! returned the father, you are a blockhead! Never part with your blood and money together.
In the penury of Mr. Elwes, there was ſomething that ſeemed like a judgment from heaven! for all earthly comforts he voluntarily denied himſelf He would walk home in the rain in London, rather than pay a shilling for a couch.—He would ſit with wet cloaths, rather than be at the expence of a fire to dry them — He would eat his proviſions in the laſt ſtage of putrefaction, rather than be at the expence of purchaſing a freſh joint from the butcher. And he wore a wig for above a fortnight, which he picked up out of a rut in a lane.—This was the laſt extremity of laudable economy! for, to all appearance, it was the caſt off wig of ſome beggar! The day in which he first appeared in this ornamental dreſs, exceeded all the power of force! for he had torn a brown coat, which he generally wore, and had therefore been obliged to have recourſe to the old cheſt of Sir Jervaiſe, from whence he had ſelected a full-dreſſed green velvet coat, with ſlaſhed ſleeves; and there he ſat at dinner in boots, the aforeſaid greet velvet coat, his own white hair ​appearing round his face, and this black ſtray wig at the top of all!
One dark night Mr. Elwes, hurrying along, went with ſuch violence againſt the pole of a ſedan chair, that he cut both his legs very deep'y! As uſual he thought not of any aſſiſtance, but Colonel Timms, at whole houſe he then was, in Orchard Street, inſiſted upon calling a doctor: He at length ſubmitted, and an apothecary in conſequence attended; who immediately began to expatiate on the bad conſequences of breaking the ſkin; the good fortune of his being ſent for; and the peculiar bad appearance of Mr. Elwes's wound. —Very probably, ſaid Mr. Elwes —But, Mr.——— I have one thing to ſay to you:— In my opinion, my legs are not much hurt: Now, you think they are. — So I will make this agreement; I will take one leg, and you ſhall take the other; you ſhall do what you pleaſe with your's, and I will do nothing to mine: And I will wager your bill, that my leg gets well before your's — He exultingly beat the apothecary by a fortnight!
The rooms of his ſeat at Stoke, that were now much out of repairs and wou'd have all fallen in, but for his ſon; John Elwes, Eſq: who had reſided there, he thought too expenſively furniſhed, and that worſe things might have done — If a window was broken, there was no repair, but that of a little brown paper, or that of piecing in a bt of broken glaſs, which had, at length, been done ſo frequently, and in ſo many ſhapes, that it would have puzzled ​a mathematician to ſay what figure they deſcribed! To ſave fire, he would walk about the remains of an old green-houſe, or ſit with a fervant in the kichen. — During the harveſt, he would amuſe himſelf with going into the fields to glean the corn on the grounds of his own tenants; and they uſed to leave a little more than common, to pleaſe the old gentleman, who was as eager after it as any pauper in the pariſh — In the advance of the ſeaſon, his morning employment was to pick up any ſtray chips, bones, or other things, to carry to the fire, in his pocket; and he was one day ſurpriſed by a neighbouring gentleman in the act of pulling down a crow's neſt for this purpoſe! On the gentleman expreſſing his ſurpriſe why he gave himſelf that trouble, Oh, Sir, replied he, it is really a ſhame that theſe creatures ſhould be allowed to do ſo. Do but ſee what waſte they make!
He ſtill rode about the country on one of his mares; and always kept her on the ſoft turf adjoining the road, to ſave the expenſe of ſhoes; and, he ſaid, the turf was moſt pleaſant for her foot! And when any gentleman call'd to pay him a viſit, and the boy, who attented in the stables, was profuse enough to put a little hay before his horſe; old Elwes would ſlily ſteal back into the ſtable, and take away the hay very carefully.
To ſave the expence of going to a butcher, he would have a whole ſheep killed and ſo eat mutton to the end of the chapter. — When he occaſionally had his canal drawn, though ſometimes ​horſe loads of ſmall fiſh were taken, not one would he ſuffer to be thrown in again, for he obſerved, he ſhould never ſee them more! —Game in the laſt ſtate of putrefaction, and meat that walked about his plate, would he continue to eat, rather than have new things killed before the old proviſion was exhausted!— With his diet, his dreſs kept pace, equally in the laſt ſtage of abſolute diſſolution! — Sometimes he would walk about with a tattered brown coloured hat; and ſometimes with a white and red woolen cap!
When any friends, who might occaſionally be with him, were absent, he would carefully put out his own fire, and walk to the houſe of a neighbour; and thus make one fire ſerve both. — His ſhoes he never would ſuffer to be cleaned, leſt they ſhould be worn out the ſooner. — But ſtill, with all this ſelf-denial he thought himſelf ever profuſe; and frequently ſaid, he muſt be a little more careful of his property. — When he went to bed, he would put five or ten guineas into a bereau, and then, full of his money, after he had retired to reſt, ſometimes in the middle of the night, he would come down to ſee if it was ſafe. —The irritation of his mind was unceaſing! — He thought every body extravagant; and when a perſon was talking to him one day of the great wealth of old Mr. Jennings, (who is ſuppoſed to be worth a million, and that they had ſeen him that day in a new carriage; Aye, aye, ſaid old Elwes, he will ſoon ſee the end of his money!
​Mr. Elwes denied himſelf everything, except the common neceſſaries of life; and, indeed, it might have been admitted doubtful, whether or not, if his manors, his fiſlh ponds, and grounds in his own hands, had not furniſhed a ſubſiſtence, where he had not any thing actually to buy, he would not, rather than have bought any thing, have ſtarved!
He one day dined upon the remaining part of a moor hen, which had been brought out of the river by a rat! — At another time, he eat an undigeſted part of a pike, which a larger one had ſwallowed, but had not finished and which was taken in this ſtate in a pet! — At the time this laſt circumfance happened, he diſcovered a range kind of ſatisfaction; for he ſaid to Captain Topham, who happened to be preſent, Aye! this is killing two birds with one ſtone! Mr. Elwes, at this time, was perhaps worth nearly 800,000l. and at this period he had not made his Will, of courſe, was not ſaving from any ſentiment of affection for any perſon. His thoughts unceaſingly ran upon money! money! money! — and he ſaw no one but whom he imagined was deceiving and defrauding him!
As, in the day, he would not allow himſelf any fire, he went to bed as ſoon as day cloſed, to ſave candle; and had begun to deny himſelf even the pleaſures of ſleeping in ſheets — In ſhort, he had now nearly brought to a climax the moral of his whole life, the perfect vanity of wealth, without uſing it.
On removing from Stoke, he went to his farmhouſe at Thaydon-Hall; a ſcene of more ruin and ​desolation, if poſſible, than either of his houſes in Suffolk or Berkſhire—It ſtood alone, on the borders of Epping Foreſt; and an old man and woman, his tenants, were the only perſons with whom he could hold any converſe.—Here he fell ill; and, as he would have no aſſiſtance, and had not even a ſervant, he lay unattended, and almoſt forgotten, for nearly a fortnight; indulging, even in death, that avarice which malady could not ſubdue.—It was at this period he began to think of making his will; ſeeing, perhaps, that his ſons would not be entitled by law, to any part of his property, ſhould he die inteſtate: and, on coming to London, he made his laſt Will and Teftament. The following is an atteſted copy.
THE WILL
OF THE LATE JOHN ELWES ESQ.
Extracted from the Registry of the Prerogative Court of Canterbury.
In the name of God, Amen.—I. John Elwis, of Stoke, in the county of Suffolk, Eſquire do make and declare this Writing to be my Laſt Will and Teſtament, in manner following: (that is to ſay), In the firſt place, I direct that all my juſt debts, funeral and teſtamentary expences, be paid as ſoon as conveniently may be after my deceaſe.—And I do give, deviſe, and bequeath, all and every my real estates, meſſuages or tenements, farms: lands, tythes, and hereditaments, ſituate, ſtanding, lynig, ​and being in the ſeveral pariſhes or places of Stoke, Thaydon, and Marcham, in the counties of Suffolk, Eſſex, and Berks, with all and every the barns, ſtables cut houſes, buildings, and appurtenances thereunto belonging; and all other my real eſtates whatſoever, and whereſoever ſitu(illegible text), ſtanding, lying, or being, with their and every of their rights, members, and appurtenances; and alſo all and every my perfonal eſtate, goods, chattels, and effects whatsoever, and of what nature, kind or quality soever, or wheresoever the same may be, unto my son, George Elwes, now living and residing at my mansion-house at Marcham, in the county of Berks, and my son, John Elwes, late a Lieutenant in his Majesty's Second Troop of Horse Guards; and usually residing at my mansion house at Stoke, in the county of Suffolk, equally to be divided between them, share and share alike; to have and to hold all and every my said real and personal estates whatsoaver and wheresoever, with the rights, privileges, and appurtenances thereunto belonging or appertaining unto them my said sons, George Elwes and John Elwes, and their heirs, executurs, administrators, and assigns, for evermore, equally to be divided between them as tenants in common. And I hereby direct, that the executors of this my will, do and shall, as soon as conveniently may be after my death, pay all and every such legacies or bequests as I may think fit to give to any person whomsoever, by any codocil, or paper writing in the nature of a codocil, or testamentary schedulde, to be written or signed by me, whether the same shall or shall not be attested by any subscribing ​witnesses. —And I do nominate, constitute, and appoint my said sons, George Elwes, executors of this my last will and testament; and hereby revoking all former wills by me at any time heretofore made, do make and declare this writing only as and for my last will and testament. — In witness whereof, I, the said John Elwes, have to this writing, contained in two sheets of paper, which I declare as and for my last will and testament, set my band and seal, (that is to say,) my hand to each of the said sheets, and my hand and seal to this last sheet, and to the label by which they are affixed together, the sixth day of August, one thousand, seven hundred, and eighty-ſix.
John Elwes.
Signed, sealed, published, and declared, by the said John Elwes, as and for his last will and testament, in the presence of us who, in his presence, and in the presence of each other, and at his request, have subscribed our names, as witnesses to the execution thereof.
Felix Buckley.
Edward Topham.
Thomas Ingraham.
The property here disposed of, may amount, perhaps, to five hundred thousand pounds! — The entailed estates fall to Mr. Timms, son of the late Richard Timms, Lieutenant Colonel of the Second Troop of Horse Guards. ​The sons named by Mr Elwes in the will above, were his natural children, by Elizabeth Moren, formerly his house keeper at Marcham in Berkshire.
Mr Elwes, shortly after executing his will, gave, by letter of attorney, the power of managing, receiving, and paying all his monies, into the hands of Mr. Ingraham, his lawyer, and his youngest son, John Elwes, Esq; who had been his chief agents.
Nor was the act by any means improper. The lapses of his memory had now become frequent and glaring — All recent occurrences he forgot entirely; and as he never committed anything to writing, the confusion he made was inexpressible! — As an instance of this, the following anecdote may serve: He had one evening given a draft on Messrs. Hoares his bankers, for twenty pounds; and having taken, it into his head, during the night, that he had over-drawn his account, his anxiety was unceasing!— He left his bed, and walking abcas his room with that little feverish irritation that always distinguished him, waited with the utmost impatience till morning came, when, on going to his banker, with an apology for the great liberty he had taken, he was assured there was no occasion for his apology, as he happened to have in their hands, at that time, the small sum of fourteen thousand even hundred pounds!
However singular this act of forgetfulness may appear, it saves to mark, amidst all his anxiety about money, that extreme conscientiousness which ​was to the honour of his character. — If accident placed him in debt to any person; even in the most trivial monner, he was never easy till it was paid: And it should be noted, that never was he known, on any occasion, to fail in what he said. — Of the punctuality of his word, he was so scrupulousy tenacious, that no person ever requested better security; and he was so particular in every thing of promise, that in any appointment or meeting, or the hour of it, he exceeded military exactness.
Mr. Elwes passed the summer of 1788 at his house in Welbeck Street, London, without any other society than that of two maid servants; for he had now given up the expence of keeping any male domestic — His chief employment used to be that of getting up early in the morning to visit his houses is Marybone, which during the summer were repairing — As he was there generally by four o'clock in the morning, he was of course on the spot before the workmen; and he used contentedly to sit down on the steps before the door, to scold them when they did come — The neighbours, who used to see him appear thus regularly every morning, and who concluded, from his apparel, he was one of the workmen, observed, there never was so punctual a man as the old carpenter —During the whole morning he would continue to run up and down stairs, to see the men were not idle for an inſtant, with the same anxiety as if his whole happiness in life had been centered in the finishing this house regardless of the greater property he had at stake in various places, and for ​ever employed in the minutiæ only of affairs — Indeed, such was his anxiety about this house, the rent of which was not above fifty pounds a year, that it brought on a fever, which neaaly cost him his life — In the muscular and unincumbered frame of Mr Elwes, there was every thing that promised extreme length of life; and he lived to above 70 years of age, without any natural disorder.
On the day before Mr. Elwes took his gratuitous journey into Berkshire, he delivered to the late Mr. Partis that copy of his last will and testament which he himself had kept, to be carried to Messrs. Hoares, his bankers.
Mr Elwes carried with him into Berkshire, five guineas and an half, and half a crown, — Lest the mention of this sum may appear singular, it should be said, that, previous to his journey, he had carefully wropped it up in various folds of paper, that no part of it might be lost.
His very singular appetite Mr Elwes retained till within a few days of his dissolution, and walked on foot twelve miles but a fortnight before he died.
The first symptoms of more immediate decay, was his inability to enjoy his reſt at night. He was frequently heard at midnight as if ſtruggling with ſome one in his chamber, and crying out, "I will keep my money, I will; nobody shall rob me of my property!" — On any one of the family going into his room, he would ſtart from his fever of ​anxiety, and, as if waking from a troubled dream, again hurry into bed, and ſeem unconſcious of what had happened. — At other times, when perfectly awake, he would walk to the ſpot where he had hidden his money, to ſee if it was ſafe.
In the autumn of 1789, his memory was gone entirely; his perception of things was decreaſing very rapidly and as the mind became unſettled, guſts of the moſt violent paſſion uſurped the place of his former command of temper.—For ſix weeks previous to his death, he would go to reſt in his cloathes, as perfectly dreſſed as during the day.-- He was one morning found faſt aſleep betwixt the ſheets, with his ſhoes on his feet, his ſtick in his hand, and an old torn has upon his head!
Mr. Elwes, on the 18th of November, 1789, diſcovered ſigns of that utter and total weakneſs, which carried him to his grave in eight days —On the evening of the firſt day, he was carried to bed; from which he roſe no more.—His appetite was gone — He had but a faint recollection of any thing about him; and his laſt coherent words were addreſſed to his ſon, Mr. John Elwes, in hoping "he had left him what he wiſhed." On the morning of the 26th of November he expired without a ſigh!
Thus died Mr. Elwes, the moſt perfect model of human penury which has been presented to the public for a long ſeries of years.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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