THE
LIFE
OF
Daniel Lambert.

Daniel Lambert was born on the 13 of March, 1770, in the Parish of St. Margaret, at Leicester. From the extraordinary bulk to which he attained, the reader may be naturally disposed to inquire, whether or no his parents were persons of remarkable dimensions. This was not the case; nor were any of his family inclined to corpulence, excepting an uncle and aunt on the father’s side, who were both very heavy. The former died during the infancy of Lambert, in the capacity of gamekeeper to the Earl of Stamford, to whose predecessor his father had been huntsman in early life. The family of Lambert, senior, consisted besides Daniel, of another son, who died young, and two daughters, who are still living, and both women of the common size.

The habits of the subject of this memoir were not, in any respect, different from those of other young persons till the age of fourteen. Even at that early period he was strongly attached to the sports of the field. This, however, was only the natural effect of a very obvious cause, aided probably by an innate propensity to those diversions.—We have already mentioned the profession of his father and uncle, and have yet to observe, that his maternal grandfather was a great cock-fighter. Born and bred among horses, dogs, and cocks, and all the other appendages of sporting, in the pursuits of which he was encouraged even in his childhood, it cannot be a matter of wonder that he should be passionately fond of all those exercises and amusements, which are comprehended under the denomination of field sports.

Brought up under the eye of his parents till the age of fourteen, young Lambert was then placed with Benjamin Patrick, in the manufactory of Taylor & Co. at Birmingham, to learn the business of a die-sinker and engraver. This establishment, then one of the most flourishing in that opulent town, was afterwards destroyed in the riots of 1791, by which the celebrated Dr. Priestly was so considerable a sufferer.

Owing to the fluctuations to which all those manufactures that administer to the luxuries of the community are liable, from the caprices of fashion, the wares connected with the profession which had been chosen for young Lambert ceased to be in request. Buckles were all at once proscribed, and a total revolution took place at the same period in the public taste with respect to buttons; the consequence was, that a numerous class of artisans were thrown out of employment, and obliged to seek a subsistence in a different occupation. Among these was Lambert, who had then served only four years of his apprenticeship.

Leaving Birmingham, he returned to Leicester to his father, who held the situation of keeper of the prison of that town. Soon afterwards, at the age of nineteen, he began to imagine that he should be a heavy man, but had not previously any indications that could lead him to suppose he should attain the excessive corpulence for which he was afterwards distinguished. He always possessed extraordinary muscular power, and at the time we are speaking of, could lift great weights, and carry five hundred pounds with ease. Had his habits been such as to bring his strength into action, he would doubtless have been an uncommonly powerful man.

That he was not deficient in physical strength or courage, is demonstrated by the following adventure, in which he was about this period engaged:—

Standing one day in his father’s house at Leicester, his attention was attracted by a company of Savoyards with their dancing bears and dogs, surrounded by an immense concourse of spectators. While they were exhibiting, a dog which had formerly been accustomed to travel with a similar company of these grotesque performers, and now belonged to the county gaoler, hearing the sound, flew furiously upon a very large bear whose overbearing force and weight soon crushed him to the ground. “Give her tooth,” said the Savoyards, irritated at the interruption of their exhibition, and making preparations to take off the muzzle of the bear. Lambert, being acquainted with the master of the dog, and knowing that, in this case, the animal would be exposed to certain destruction, went out and addressed the people with the intention of pacifying them, and prevailing upon them to suffer the dog to be taken away. Deaf to all his remonstrances, one of the Savoyards still persisting in pulling off the muzzle, the dog being all this time underneath, and in the grasp of the bear. Enraged at the fellow’s obstinacy, he protested he would kill the bear if it lay in his power, and snatching from the man’s hand the paddle or pole with which they manage these animals, at the moment when the muzzle was removed, he struck the bear with all his force, fully intending to despatch her if possible. Bruin was for a moment completely stunned with the blow, and the dog seized that opportunity of disengaging himself from her clutches. Enraged at this fresh attack, she turned towards her new antagonist, who kept repeating his strokes, but without being able to hit her head, which she protected from his blows with all the dexterity of the most accomplished pugilist. During these successive attacks, the dog, faithful to his friend who had so opportunely stepped to his aid, continued to exhibit the most astonishing proofs of undaunted intrepidity, till he was at length caught up by one of the by-standers. The weather was frosty, and the pavement was slightly glazed from the trundling of a mop. Here, while thus busily engaged in belabouring his formidable foe, Lambert fell, but arose again with the utmost agility. Bruin was now close to him; he had a full view of her tremendous teeth, and felt the heat from her breath. The danger became pressing, and as his shaggy foe was too near to admit of his using the weapon, he struck her with his left hand such a violent blow on the skull, as brought her to the ground; on which she declined the contest, and “yelling fled.” During the fray, a smaller bear had been standing upright against a wall, with a cocked hat on his head; in consequence of the retreat of his companion, this ludicrous figure now appeared full in front of the victorious champion, who brandished in his hand the up-lifted pole. The beast, as if aware of his danger, and expecting to be attacked in his turn, instantly took off his hat, and apparently in token of submission, tumbled heels over head at the feet of the conqueror. Meanwhile the populace, terrified at the approach of ursa major began to retire in a backward direction, still keeping the unsuccessful combatant in view, till they tumbled one after another over some loads of coal that happened to lie in the way. The scene now became truly ludicrous: forty people were down at a time; and as though each person thought himself already in the gripe of the irritated animal, vociferated Murder! with all their might. The Savoyards who were after all, the greatest sufferers by this tragicomic representation, applied to the mayor, and demanded redress. The magistrate inquired where the fray happened, and was informed that it took place in Blue-Boar-Lane, in the parish of St. Nicholas—the inhabitants of which have for many years been distinguished by the appellation of Nick’s Ruffs. “Oh!” said he, “the people of that parish do just as they please; they are out of my jurisdiction;” and gravely dismissed the disappointed complainants. It was two years before this company of itinerant performers again ventured to make their appearance in Blue-Boar-Lane. On this occasion, one who happened to be rather before the rest, perceiving Lambert sitting at his door, gave notice to the others, who, dreading a repetition of the treatment they had before experienced, instantly retreated by the way they had come.