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 20l. 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."