Nothing on record; and I have failed in my efforts to obtain any information of her previous history. It is said, that her relations are respectable; yet her residence here is paid for by a parish in London. She has long been, together with No. 7, the most useful and hardworking person in the house. In the midst of her work, she will often scold and swear with vehemence, but no one knows about what, or against whom; and though her voice is loud and shrill, no one regards it, saying, “Oh! it is only poor M. W.” Yet she is very kind-hearted and friendly, giving away her own meat, especially to those who are ill; and when prevented from doing so, will throw it away with indignation. She would gladly starve herself to feed others; and always asserts, when a patient dies, “that they died for want of something to eat.” She used to practice this singular fancy, that of frightening the devil away, by taking a sweeping brush with her to bed; but now, a tin pint serves the same purpose. She is a tall, meagre-looking woman.
No. 13.—Admitted 1798.
No statement of this case; but it is said that, in the first instance, he was very violent. His mind is now in a fixed imbecile state, and exhibits no alteration, except the slight changes which mere alterations of our spirits produce; when he is more easily provoked—talks, laughs, and sings more, or holds conversations with persons dead or absent; sometimes scolds them, fancying they tease him in some strange manner, which he calls “triangling;” but it is impossible to ascertain what ideas he affixes to the word; he is a very quiet, good-natured man, a general favourite, and is usefully employed by the attendants in the house. [159]
No. 14.—Admitted 1799.
No statement of her case; and I have failed in obtaining any very satisfactory information about her.
It is said, that she gradually became insane, after the death of her only boy, named “Charles,” (who was the natural son of Sir —:) this is probably true, as she now imagines that Charles is constantly with her—sleeps with her—that she feeds him at her meals—carries him about in a corner of her apron—nurses him—and talks to him with delight and maternal fondness. She often fancies, too, that she has been confined, and has got more children. [160]
Her appearance and manners are exceedingly polite, pleasing, and affectionate; she is attentive to others, in all those little nameless etiquettes of life, which, when regulated by truth, constitute the innocent fascination of a kind-hearted and well-bred character; and it is so with her: every one doats upon her as upon a favourite child. She never fails to tell me, if I have been out during dinner-time, when she next meets me, “you have not got your dinner, go and get it immediately;” and yet left to herself, she is wholly taken up with scolding some imaginary beings who annoy her, get into her throat, head, back, &c., run her through with swords, and do a thousand other strange and cruel things to her. Every evening she has a long scolding, with a tone three-fourths of anger and one-fourth affection, with some men who plague her in her bed and in her bed-room, and continue to do so till her attendant comes, sometimes at her call, to drive them away. Is this the lingering last impression made on her mind by her seducer? In the midst of her scolding she will often swear in a strange under tone of voice; and when accused, she says it is some other person, frequently Jack Swales. Her conversation is so exceedingly extravagant and varied, that it is impossible, except by the most lengthened description, to convey to others any adequate conception of it. Names of dukes, kings, queens, pipes of wine, sums of money, estates, &c., are as common to her as household words; yet strange as all this is, it seems to have some connexion with her past life, having formerly held a situation in a family of consequence. Her former situation and disposition are hinted at by these reminiscences, which are delightful traits of what she has been.
No. 15.—Admitted 1799.—Aged 50.
No statement on record; it is certain, however, from his own account, that he was formerly steward and butler in a gentleman’s family, and had been what some call a “hearty good fellow” all his life. His manner continued that of a blustering, passionate, half-inebriated man; [162] his skin was covered with a scorbutic eruption, and his face a bloated livid red. He died of dropsy in the chest, March 6th, 1821.