Part 103

After a variety of other extraordinary performances, the Indian places a stone of fourteen pounds weight, about the size and shape of a Dutch cheese, between his feet. With an apparently slight exertion, he kicks up his heels, and the stone, performing a parabola over his head from behind, alights upon the bend of his arm, where it rests. He then tosses it to the same part of the other arm, where it rests, as if held by the hand, or caught by magic; thence he throws it to various parts of his frame, to his wrist, and the back of his neck. At this latter point it might be supposed it would be stationary, as one feels very little capacity of twisting any weighty body from the neck in a direction different from what it would take on being shaken off. But even here our juggler commands its obedience. He again tosses it to his arm; back again to his neck; and after a few gambols of this sort, he finally, by a masterly jerk, throws the stone of fourteen pounds weight round his head.

The famous feat of swallowing the sword closes this wonderful exhibition; for a description of which, the reader is referred to page 63.

JOHN METCALF, or Blind Jack of Knaresborough.--This extraordinary character was born in 1717, and died in 1798. When four years old, his parents, who were working people, put him to school, soon after which he was seized with the small-pox, by which he became totally blind, though all possible means were used to preserve his sight. Recovering from the small-pox, he found that he was able to go from his father's house to the end of the street, and return, without a guide; and, in the space of three years, he could find his way to any part of the town, which gave him much satisfaction. In process of time, he began to associate with the neighbouring boys, of his own age, and went with them to take birds' nests. For his share of the eggs and young birds, he was to climb the trees, whilst his companions waited at the bottom to receive what he should throw down. After that, he could ramble into the fields alone, frequently to the distance of two or three miles; and, his father keeping horses, he in time became an able horseman, and a gallop was his favourite pace. At the age of thirteen, being taught music, he became very expert, though he had more taste for the cry of the hounds than for any instrument. A Mr. Woodburn, of Knaresborough, master of a pack of hounds, used to take young Metcalf to hunt with him; and he having a couple and a half of good ones of his own, used to go out at a night when the hares were feeding; but one of his young dogs happening to worry a couple of lambs, Metcalf was obliged to discontinue this practice. At about fourteen years of age he learned to swim in the river Nidd; but few of his companions liked to come near him in the water, it being his custom to seize them, send them to the bottom, and swim over them by way of diversion.

Having practised on the violin till he could play country dances, he attended several assemblies, and to his fondness for hunting, added that of cock-fighting; and, if at any time he heard of a better game-cock than his own, he would be sure to get him by some means or other, though at ever so great a distance. In fact, his fame began to spread to such a degree, that when any arch trick was done, inquiry was sure to be made, where Blind Jack was at the time. In 1732, Metcalf succeeded the fiddler at Harrowgate, who died in the 102d year of his age; after this he bought a horse, and often ran him for small plates; and for some time, hunting by day, and fiddling by night, were his principal occupations. Soon after this, as Metcalf had learned to walk and ride very readily through most of the streets in York, he one evening offered himself as a guide to a gentleman who wanted to go to Knaresborough that night, and absolutely performed it, the gentleman not even suspecting that he was blind till they came to their journey's end. This the gentleman was told at the sign of the Granby, just as he had entered the parlour. Expressing some doubt of this to the landlord's question, "Do you not know that he is blind?" he exclaimed, "What do you mean by that?"--"I mean sir, that he cannot see."--"Blind! gracious God!"--"Yes sir, as blind as a stone." Metcalf was then called in, and the gentleman's doubts were immediately dissipated.

In 1745, during the rebellion, as Captain Thornton undertook to raise a company at his own expense, and knowing Metcalf's turn of mind, engaged him as a musician to his corps. As Metcalf was then nearly six feet two inches high, and being, like his companions, dressed in blue and buff, with a large gold-laced hat, the captain was so well pleased with him, that he said he would give one hundred guineas for only one eye to be put into the head of his dark companion. During the rebellion, after _seeing_ much service, and being particularly noticed by the duke of Cumberland, he was discharged, and being at liberty to choose his occupation, he attended Harrowgate as before; but having, in the course of his Scotch expedition, become acquainted with the various articles manufactured in that country, he provided himself with several in the cotton and worsted way, especially Aberdeen stockings, for all which he found a ready sale in the extensive county of York. Among a thousand articles, he never was at a loss to know what each had cost him, from a particular mode of marking. It was also customary with him to buy horses for sale in Scotland, bringing back galloways in return. In this traffic he depended on feeling the animals to direct his choice. In 1754, Metcalf set up a stage waggon between York and Knaresborough, being the first of the kind known on that road. This he constantly conducted himself, going twice a week in summer, and once in the winter; but at length, turning his attention to the making of roads, he disposed of his waggon, &c. His first undertaking of this kind was three miles of the new turnpike road from Harrowgate to Boroughbridge; and for this he was actually appointed foreman to the surveyor.

He often walked from Knaresborough in the morning, with four or five stone of meat on his shoulders, and joined his men by six o'clock. By the means he used, he completed the work much sooner than was expected, to the entire satisfaction of the surveyor and the trustees. During his leisure hours he studied measurement in a way of his own; and, when certain of the girth and length of any piece of timber, he was able to reduce its true contents to feet and inches, and could bring the dimensions of any building into yards or feet. In fact, he contracted for, and constructed several roads, in a manner superior to the method of making them at that time. He built various bridges in difficult situations, in a manner that astonished those that employed him, and afterwards undertook the erection of houses. One of his bridges, it was remarked, had stood thirty years, and the foundation never cost one penny in repairs.

In 1792, having been some time absent, he returned to Yorkshire, and, having no engagement, he bought hay to sell again: he used to measure the stacks with his arms, and knowing the height, could readily tell what number of square yards were contained in hay, from five to one hundred pounds value; with equal facility he could calculate the solid contents of standing wood. Having known the streets of York very accurately in the earlier part of his life, he determined to visit that ancient city, where he had not been for the space of thirty-two years. He found alterations for the better in Spurrier-gate, Blake-street, the Pavement, &c. and so retentive was his memory, that, though so many years had elapsed since he had been that way before, he discovered an alteration in the hanging of two gates by a wall-side near the house of a Mr. Barlow. His wife died in 1778, in her 61st year, leaving him four children, after 39 years of conjugal affection and felicity.

Mrs. VAN BUTCHELL.--In 1775, died the wife of an eccentric empiric, Dr. Martin Van Butchell; and the singular mode employed for the preservation of her body merits notice. On her death taking place, he applied to Dr. Hunter, to exert his skill in preventing, if possible, the changes of form usual after the cessation of life. Accordingly, the doctor, assisted by the late Mr. Cruikshank, injected the blood-vessels with a coloured fluid, so that the minute red vessels of the cheeks and lips were filled, and exhibited their native hue; and the body in general, having all the cavities filled with antiseptic substances, remained perfectly free from corruption, or any unpleasant smell, and as if it was merely in a state of sleep. But to resemble the appearance of life, glass eyes were also inserted. The corpse was then deposited in a bed of thin paste of plaster of Paris, in a box of sufficient dimensions, which subsequently crystallized, and produced a pleasing effect. A curtain covered the glass lid of the box, which could be withdrawn at pleasure; and which box being kept in the common parlour, Mr. Van Butchell had the satisfaction of retaining his departed wife for many years, frequently displaying the beautiful corpse to his friends and visitors. A second marriage, some years afterwards, is said to have occasioned some family difference, and it was found expedient to remove the preserved body.

HARRISON, a Penurious Character.--This person died in November, 1821, in Bennett-street, Rathbone-place, Oxford-road, London, where he had lodged 20 years. The furniture of his room consisted of one old chair, a table, a trunk or two, an old stump bedstead, and a bed of straw; in one corner was a heap of ashes; and the cupboard, the day after his decease, contained a few potato-peelings and a stale roll. His body presented a picture of the most extreme misery and starvation, though he had no family, and had property in the funds to the amount of £1500. A female friend who lived at Putney, and was in the habit of calling on him when she came to town, deposed, that he would let no person but her enter his room, which he always kept padlocked inside, for fear of being robbed: he lay on his bed in the day-time, and sat up at night without any fire, always burning a lamp. A few evenings before his death, he told the female before-mentioned, that many persons wanted to finger his cash, but they should not. He then desired her to lock him in, and take the key with her, which she did; but, on going again next day, she found him lying on his bed with his clothes on, quite dead. He had made his will several months before, and left her executrix of his property, which was to be divided between herself, his nephew, and niece. He had been married, and had a daughter, who, with his wife, were both dead. He carried large sums of money sewed up in different parts of his clothes, for which reason he never pulled them off. Upwards of £100 was found upon him at the time of his death, on the night previous to which he sent for one oyster, half a pint of beer, and a pennyworth of figs, which he ate. For nearly four years previous to his decease, he appeared almost childish. The jury that sat upon the body, brought in their verdict,--_Died by the visitation of God_.

THE BLIND CLERGYMAN.--The following very interesting account was published in the Morning Chronicle of Jan. 21, 1791. It bears all the marks of authenticity.

"In my rambles (says the writer) last summer, on the borders of Wales, I found myself one morning on the banks of the beautiful river Wye, alone, without a servant or guide. I had to ford the river at a place where, according to the instructions given me at the nearest hamlet, if I diverged ever so little from the marks which the ripling of the current made as it passed over a ledge of rock, I should sink twice the depth of myself and horse. While I stood hesitating on the margin, viewing attentively the course of the ford, a person passed me on the canter, and the next instant I saw him plunge into the river. Presuming on his acquaintance with the passage, I immediately and closely followed his steps. As soon as we had gained the opposite bank, I accosted him with thanks for the benefit of his guidance; but what was my astonishment, when, bursting into a hearty laugh, he observed, that "my confidence would have been less, had I known that I had been following a blind guide." The manner of the man, as well as the fact, attracted my curiosity. To my expressions of surprise at his venturing to cross the river alone, he answered, that he and the horse he rode had done the same every Sunday morning for the last five years; but that in reality, this was not the most perilous part of his hebdomadal peregrination, as I should be convinced, if my way led over the mountain before us. My way was _ad libitum_, at pleasure; I therefore resolved to attach myself to my extraordinary companion, and soon learned in our chat, as we wound up the steep mountain's side, that he was a clergyman, and of that class which is the disgrace of our ecclesiastical establishment; I mean the country curates, who exist upon the _liberal_ stipend of thirty, twenty, and sometimes fifteen pounds a year! This gentleman, of the age of sixty, had about thirty years before been engaged in the curacy to which he was now travelling; and though at the distance of eight long Welsh miles from the place of his residence, such was the respect of his Sunday flock towards him, that at the commencement of his calamity, rather than part with him, they sent regularly, every Sunday morning, a deputation to guide their old pastor along a road, which, besides the river we had just passed, led over a craggy mountain, on whose top innumerable and uncertain bogs were constantly forming, and which, nevertheless, by the instinct of his Welsh pony, this blind man has actually crossed alone for the last five years, having so long dismissed the assistance of guides.

"While our talk beguiled our road, we insensibly arrived within sight of his village church. It was seated in a deep and narrow vale. As I looked down upon it, the bright verdure of the meadows, which were here and there chequered with patches of yellow corn, the moving herds of cattle, the rich foliage of the groves of oak, hanging irregularly over its sides, the white houses of the inhabitants, which sprinkled every corner of this peaceful retreat; and above all, the inhabitants themselves, assembled in their best attire round their place of weekly worship; all this gay scene rushing at once on the view, struck my senses and imagination more forcibly than I can express. As we entered the church-yard, the respectful "How do you do?" of the young, the hearty shakes by the hand of the old, and the familiar gambols of the children, shewed how their old pastor reigned in the hearts of all. After some refreshment at the nearest house, we went to church, in which my veteran priest read the prayers, the psalms, and chapters of the day, and then preached a sermon in a manner that would have made no one advert to his defect of sight. At dinner, which it seems four of the most substantial farmers of the vale provided in turn, he related the progress of his memory. For the first year he attempted only the prayers and sermons, the best readers of the parish making it a pride to officiate for him in the psalms and chapters. He next endured the labour of getting these by heart; and at present, by continual repetition, there is not a psalm or chapter of the more than two hundred appointed for the Sunday service, that he is not perfect in. He told me also, that having in his little school two sons of his own, intended for the university, he has, by hearing them continually, committed the greatest part of Homer and Virgil to his memory."

We shall now introduce to the notice of the reader, a living character,--a child, a little girl,--the most extraordinary that ever appeared in the world.

MISS CLARA FISHER.--This little lady, the youngest daughter of Mr. G. F. Fisher, a respectable auctioneer, of London, was born in Covent-garden, on the 14th of July, 1811. At a very early age, she evinced powers of intellect and genius very unusual in infants. A passionate fondness for music was a first characteristic; and while yet in the arms of a nurse, she was excited to pleasurable emotions, when tunes which she liked were played, but shewed the most determined opposition in her power, to the continuance of those to which she had conceived an aversion. This fact is recorded in the writings of Anthony Pasquin, in his Dramatic Censor, as an instance of wonderfully premature infantine endowment.

The fame which Miss O'Neil had acquired soon after her appearance in London, induced Mr. Fisher to take his family to Covent-garden theatre, to witness her performance of Jane Shore; and to the impression made that night on the mind of little Clara, may be ascribed the wonderful turn for theatrical exhibition, which has ever since characterized this juvenile candidate for histrionic fame. On the same evening, after returning from the theatre, Clara retired to a corner of the room, and, as she thought, unseen, went through, in dumb show, a great part of the performances she had witnessed at the theatre. These evident symptoms of dramatic genius in a child, then under four years of age, excited much surprise and pleasure amongst the family circle. A few evenings afterwards, she was persuaded to repeat this primary exhibition before some private friends, and the applause which she elicited seemed to implant in her young mind that ardent love for the stage, which thenceforward has guided all her thoughts and actions.

In the autumn of 1817, Dr. D. Corrie, the celebrated musician, and composer of the music of the Travellers, solicited and received permission for little Clara to appear in a private performance with his juvenile pupils in music. A short character was assigned to little Clara to learn; and she performed it with an effect which excited the astonishment and admiration of a select and fashionable company, who had met to witness the efforts of the juvenile performers. From the success of this evening's amusement, may be dated Miss Clara's introduction to public notice. On the 10th of December following, she appeared in Drury-lane theatre, in Garrick's romance of Lilliput; revived and altered, with songs, prologue, epilogue, and a masque, written by Mr. Fisher; and in which was introduced the last act of Shakspeare's Richard III. in order to bring forward the little Clara in the character of the crookbacked tyrant. Her success in this arduous character was beyond all anticipation: for seventeen nights the house was crowded in every part, and the applause bestowed on the extraordinary infant, then only six years and a half old, was enthusiastic and incessant. The public journals published in London during the run of the piece, bear ample testimony of the high estimation in which the best critics of the day held the talents of the young actress. Immediately after the close of her engagement at Drury-lane, she was applied for by Mr. Harris, of Covent-garden theatre, where she performed with equal success and approbation. On one occasion, his present Majesty, then Prince of Wales, honoured the theatre with his presence, and was pleased cordially to join in the general plaudits of the audience. After the part of Richard III. was concluded, she appeared in her own infantine character, and delivered the following epilogue, written by her father, with a pathos and feeling which powerfully affected the auditors:--

Well, Sirs, what say you to our little play-- Must it expire, or live another day? Will you permit once more our group to try To raise your laughter, or to make you cry? My spangled robes laid by, and waving plume, In muslin frock my sex I re-assume; And though in simple dress I'm now array'd, I hope you'll not reject a little maid, Who sues for favour, for herself, and those, Who, like herself, are now in common clothes. And I assure you, ladies, from my heart, I like my robes much better than my part; The shining spangles are to me so dear, I'm come to ask--may I again appear? O! pray indulge me in this one request, And I will strive to please you,--and be drest!

On leaving Covent-garden, she was engaged by Mr. Elliston to perform at the Birmingham theatre, as a star, for some nights; after which she appeared in Bath, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, York, Doncaster, Hull, Brighton, and every theatre of consequence, in the kingdom.

Miss Clara Fisher has at this time, 1822, been on the boards more than four years, and has already performed in about one hundred theatres. She has travelled through various parts of Great Britain, a distance of upwards of ten thousand miles; and she has performed in Shakspeare's character of Richard III. more than two hundred and fifty times, besides other arduous parts in the various departments of the English drama. Her singing and dancing are equal to her other accomplishments, and yield delight to all who witness them. Bring yet but eleven years of age, she will furnish for the future historian a rare instance of precocity of intellect. She is gracefully formed, but not tall of her age; her face is oval, and full of expression; her eyes blue, large, and animated; her mouth particularly well moulded; and her hand and arm are considered by artists as uncommonly beautiful for her years. The general opinion of critics is, that she resembles in voice, and manner of acting, the late celebrated Mrs. Jordan.

An authentic anecdote is related of our heroine, which places, in a strong point of view, her felicitous conception of character, and her extraordinary collectedness and presence of mind, under circumstances, which, in all probability, would confuse and flutter even a long-experienced actor. Immediately after leaving Drury-lane, she performed for Mr. Elliston, at Birmingham. A new and elegant crown was there made for her, that she might appear to advantage in the character of Richard III. The crown was accidentally made too small, and was with difficulty kept on the head. When Richard (personated by this little lady) descended from the throne, in the presence of his nobles, and was delivering one of his most impassioned speeches, the crown fell off upon the stage. Contrary to the natural expectation of all, little Clara took no notice of the circumstance, but concluded her speech with the same energy and commanding deportment with which it commenced; and then beckoning to Catesby to approach, "Catesby!" said she, pointing to the fallen diadem, and stood erect and motionless, with the haughty dignity of monarchy, until, the brief mandate understood, he lifted it, and solemnly replaced it upon her brows. Thus, when a less-gifted performer would have found it difficult to save the whole scene from derision, did she sternly maintain the regal character she had assumed; and commanded the respect, surprise, and admiration of the audience.