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of one man and two maids. When the day was not so fine as to tempt him abroad, he would walk backwards and forwards in his old hall, to save fire. His clothes cost him nothing, for he took them out of an old chest, where they had lain since the gay days of Sir Jervoise. One evening, after he had retired, some robbers. watching their opportunity, obtained admittance into the house; having previously bound the servants, then going up to Sir Harvey, they presented their pistols and demanded his money. At no part of his life did Sir Harvey behave so well as in this transaction. He would give them no answer, till they had assured him that his scrvant, whom they had left gagged in the stable, and who was a great favourite, was safe; he then delivered them the key of a drawer, in which was fifty guineas. But they knew too well he had much more in the house, and again threatened Li life. At length he showed them a large drawer, where were two thousand seven hundred guineas. This they packed up in two large baskets, and actually carried off,-a robbery which for quantity of specie had never been equalled. On quitting him, they said they should leave a man behind, who would murder him if he moved for assistance; on which he very coolly and with some simplicity took out his watch, which they had not asked for, and said, "Gentlemen, I do not want to take any of you; therefore, upon my honour, I will give you twenty minutes for your escape; after that time, nothing shall prevent me from seeing how my servant does." He was as good as his word: when the time expired he went and untied the man. Some years afterwards the fellows were taken up for other offences, and Anown to be those who had robbed Sir Harvey; he was accordingly pressed to go and identify their persons: “No, no," said he, "I have lost my money and now you want me to lose my time also." When Sir Harvey died, the only tear that was dropped upon his grave fell from the eye of the servant here alluded to, who had long and faithfully attended him. To that servant he bequeathed a farm of ty pounds per annum, "to him and to his heirs." Sir Harvey's property was estimated at two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, the whole of which was left to the nephew, Mr. Meggot, whose own possessions at the time were, it was imagined, not much inferior, and who, by will, was ordered to assume the name and arms of Elwes. In conclusion of this part of the subject, it may be observed, that the popular view of Sir Harvey's character was well expressed in the almost proverbial saying, “that nobody would live with Sir Harvey Elwes if they could, nor could if they would."

To this property Mr. Ewes succeeded when he had advanced beyond his fortieth year. For fifteen years previous to this period he was well known to the fashionable Circles of the metropolis. Few men, even from his own acknowledgment, had played deeper than himself, and with success more various. I remember hearing hi say he had once played two days and a night without intermission; and, the room being a small one, the party were nearly up to their knees in cards. He lost some thousands at that sitting Had Mr. Ewes received all he won, he would have beca the richer by some thousands for the mode in which he passed this part of his life; but the vowels of 10 U were then in use, and the sums that were owed àm even by very noble names were not liquidated. On this account he was a very great loser by play. The theory which he professed that it was impossible to ask a gentleman for money," he perfectly onfirmed by his practice. It is curious to re mark how he at this period centrired to mingle small attempts at saving with uiboanded dissipation of play. After sitting up a whole night, risking thousands with the mast fiktiorable and profigate ruen of the time, amidst splendid rooms, git suks wax lights and waters attendant en his call, he would walk out about fear in the morning, rot towards home, but into Smithfield, to meet his own cattle, which were coming to market from Hayden Hol a fare 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, when the cattle did not arrive at the hour expected, he would walk on in the mire to meet them, and more than once has gone on foot the whole way to his farm, without stopping, which was seventeen miles from London, after sitting up the whole night. His chief country residence at this period was Marcham, in Berkshire, where he had two sons by his housekeeper, to whom he left the whole of his property, with the exception of that portion which was entailed upon Mr. Elwes's nephew, Colonel Timms. Of the state of the house at Marcham, that gentleman used to give the following illustration. A few days after he had gone thither to visit his uncle, a great quantity of rain fell in the night. He had not been long in bed before he felt himself wet through, and, putting his hand out of the clothes, found the rain was dripping through the ceiling upon the bed. He got up and moved the bed, but he had not lain long before he found the same inconvenience. Again he got up, and again the rain came down. At length, after pushing the bed quite round the room, he got into a corner where the ceiling was better secured, and he slept till morning. When he met his uncle at breakfast, he told him what had happened: "Ay, ay," said Mr. Elwes, "I did'nt mind it myself, but to those who do that's a nice corner in the rain!" On the death of Sir Harvey, Mr. Elwes went to reside at Stoke, and began to keep fox-hounds, the only instance in his whole life of his ever sacrificing money to pleasure, and the only period when he forgot the cares, the perplexities, and the regret which his wealth occasioned. But even here everything was done in the most frugal manner. His huntsman might have fixed an epoch in the history of servants; for in a morning, getting up at four o'clock, he milked the cows; he then prepared breakfast for Mr. Elwes, or any friends he might have with him; then, slipping on a green coat, he hurried into the stable, saddled the horses, got the hounds out of the kennel, and away they went into the field. After the fatigues of hunting, he refreshed himself by rubbing down two or three horses as quickly as he could, then running into the house to lay the cloth and wait at dinner; then hurrying again into the stable to feed the horses, diversified with an interlude of the cows again to milk, the dogs to feed, and eight hunters to litter down for the night. What may appear extraordinary, the man lived there for some years, though his master used often to call him "an idle dog," and say "he wanted to be paid for doing nothing!" No hounds were more killing ones than those of Mr. Elwes. The wits of the country used to say, "it must be so, or they would get nothing to eat." His horses were also the admiration of everybody, yet the whole fox-hunting establishment did not cost him three hundred pounds a year.

From the parsimonious manner in which Mr. Elwes now lived-for he was fast following the footsteps of Sir Harvey-and from the two large fortunes of which he was in possession, riches rolled in upon him like a torrent; and had he been gifted with that clear and fertile head which, patient in accumulation and fruitful in disposition, knows how to employ as well as accumulate, which, working from principal to interest, by compounding forms a principal again, and makes money generate itself had he possessed such a head as this, his wealth would have exceeded all bounds. But nature, which sets limits to the ocean, forbade perhaps this monstrous inundation of property; and as Mr. Elwes knew almost nothing of accounts, and never reduced his affairs to writing, he was obliged, in the disposal of his property, to trust much to memory, to the suggestion of other people still more. Hence every person who had a want or a scheme, with an apparent high interest-adventurer or honest, it signified not-all was prey to him; and he swam about, like the enormous pike, which, ever voracious and unsatisfied, catches at everything, till it is itself caught. I do not exaggerate when I say, I believe Mr. Elwes lost in this

manner during his life full one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. But perhaps in this ordination Providence was all-wise. In the life of Mr. Elwes the luxuriant | sources of industry or enjoyment all stood still. He encouraged no art; he bestowed not on any improvement; he diffused no blessings around him; and the distressed received nothing from his hand. What was got from him was only obtained from his want of knowledge-by knowledge that was superior; and knaves and sharpers might have lived upon him, while poverty and honesty might have starved. When, however, his inordinate passion for saving was not concerned, he would go far and long to serve those who applied to him. Such instances as the following are gratifying to select-it is plucking the sweet-briar and the rose from the weeds that overspread the garden. When Mr. Elwes was at Marcham, two very ancient maiden ladies had for some neglect incurred the displeasure of the ecclesiastical court, and were threatened with excommunication. The whole import of the word they did not perfectly understand, but they had heard something about standing in a church, and penance, and a white sheet. They concluded if they once got into that, it was all over with them; and as the excommunication was to take place next day they hurried to Mr. Elwes to know how they could make submission, and how the sentence might be prevented. No time was to be lost. Mr. Elwes did that which, fairly speaking, not one man in five thousand would have done; he had his horse saddled, and putting, according to usual custom, a couple of hard eggs in his pocket, he set out for London, a distance of sixty miles, that evening, and reached it early enough the next morning to notify the submission of the culprit damsels. The ladies were 80 overjoyed, so thankful: so much trouble and expense! What returns could they make? To ease their consciences on that head, an old Irish gentleman, their neighbour, who knew Mr. Elwes's mode of travelling, wrote these words,-"My dears, is it expense you are talking of? Send him sixpence, and he gains twopence by the journey!"

Mr. Elwes, from his father, Mr. Meggot, had inherited some property in houses in London, particularly about the Haymarket. To this property he began now to add by building. Great part of Marylebone soon called him her founder. Portland Place, and Portman Square, and other structures too numerous to name, rose out of his pocket; and had not Lord North and his American war kindly put a stop to this rage of raising houses, much of the property he then possessed would have been laid out in bricks and mortar. As it was, he became, from calculation, his own inBurer. In possessions so large, of course it would happen that some of the houses were without a tenant; it was therefore Mr. Elwes's custom, whenever he went to London, to occupy any of these premises which might happen to be vacant. He travelled in this manner from street to street, frequently an itinerant for a night's lodging. A couple of beds, a couple of chairs, a table, and an old woman, were all his furniture; and with these, whenever a tenant offered, he was but too glad to move at a moment's warning. Of all these movables, the old woman was the only one that gave him any trouble, for she was afflicted with a lameness that made it difficult to get her about quite so fast as he chose, and then the colds she took were amazing. The scene which terminated her life is not the least singular among the anccdotes recorded of Mr. Elwes. The circumstance was related to me, adds Mr. Topham, by Colonel Timms himself. Mr. Elwes had come to town in his usual way, and taken up his abode in one of the houses that were empty. Colonel Timms, who wished much to see him, by some accident was informed that his uncle was in London; but then how to find him was the difficulty. He inquired at all the usual places where it was probable he might be heard of, in vain. Not many days afterwards he learnt accidentally that Mr. Elwes had been seen going into an uninhabited

house in Great Marlborough Street. This was some clue to Colonel Timms, and he went thither. No gentleman, however, had been seen to enter; but a pot-boy recollected that he had noticed a poor old man opening the stable door, and locking it after him. Colonel Timms went and knocked loudly at the door, but no one answered. Some of the neighbours said they had also seen such a man enter; so Colonel Timms resolved to have the stable-door opened; a blacksmith was sent for, and they entered the house together. In the lower part of it all was shut and silent; but, on ascending the staircase, they heard the moans of a person seemingly in distress. They went to the chamber, and there, upon an old pallet-bed, lay stretched out, seemingly in death, the figure of Mr. Elwes. For some time he seemed insensible that any one was near him; but, on some cordials being administered by a neighbouring apothecary, who was sent for, he recovered enough to say "that he had, he believed, been ill for two or three days, and that there was an old woman in the house, but for some reason or other she had not been near him; that she had been ill herself, but that she had got well, he supposed, and gone away." Repairing to the garrets, they found the old woman stretched out lifeless upon the floor. To all appearance she had been dead about two days! With all this penury, Mr. Elwes was not a hard landlord,—a fact that redounds in no slight degree to the credit of such a man.

The character of an impartial and upright country magistrate is the best character which the country knows. What a lawgiver is to a state, an intelligent magistrate is in a less degree to the district where he resides. Such a magistrate was Mr. Elwes while he resided in Berkshire; and it was almost entirely owing to this best of recommendations that an offer was made to him afterwards, of bringing him in as a representative for the county. The prospect of a contested election betwixt two most respectable families in Berkshire first suggested the idea of proposing a third person, who might be unobjectionable to both. Mr. Elwes was chosen. He agreed to the proposal, as it was further enhanced to him by the understanding that he was to be brought in by the freeholders for nothing. I believe all he did was dining at the ordinary at Abingdon; and he got into parliament for eighteen pence! On being elected member for Berkshire, he left Suffolk and went again to his seat at Marcham. His fox hounds he carried along with him; but, finding his time would in all probability be much employed, he resolved to relinquish his hounds; and they were shortly after given away to some farmers in that neighbourhood. Mr. Elwes was sixty years old when he thus entered on public life. In three successive parliaments he was chosen for Berkshire; and he sat as member of the House of Commons about twelve years. It is to his honour-an honour in those times indeed most rare!—that in every part of his conduct, and in every vote he gave, he proved himself to be what he professed, an independent country gentleWishing for no post, desirous of no rank, wanting no emolument, and being most perfectly conscientious, he stood aloof from all those temptations which have led many good men astray from the paths of honour. He was once unhappy for some days on learning that Lord North intended to apply to the king to make him a peer. I really believe, had such an honour fallen unexpected upon his head, it would have been the death of him. He never would have survived the being obliged to keep a carriage and three or four servants-all perhaps better dressed than himself! For some years Mr. Elwes supported the ministry, and I am convinced, adds his biographer, it was his fair and honest belief that the measures of Lord North were right. The support he gave was of the most disinterested kind, for no man was more materially a sufferer by Lord North's American war than he, in consequence of the depreciation in the value of his great property in houses which took place. At last, however Mr. Elwes's confidence gave way, and he entered into a

man.

tion all his penury, when his tenants saw in his appearance or style of living everything that was inferior to their own, when his neighbours at best could but smile at his infirmities, and his very servants grew ashamed of the meanness of their master, all that approached respect formerly was now gone; and a gentleman, one day inquiring which was the house of Mr. Elwes, was told somewhat facetiously by one of the tenants, "The poor-house of the parish !"

The spring of 1786 Mr. Elwes passed alone, and, had it not been for some little daily schemes of avarice, would have passed it without one consolatory moment. His temper began to give way apace; his thoughts unceasingly ran upon money! money! money! and he saw no one but whom he imagined was deceiving and defrauding him. On removing from Stoke, he went to his farm-house at Thoydon Hall, a scene of more ruin and desolation, if possible, than either 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. He now determined to make his will, which he did shortly afterwards in London, leaving the whole of his unentailed property to his sons, George Elwes, then living at Marcham, and John Elwes, "late a lieutenant in his Majesty's second troop of horse-guards," then residing at Stoke. The property thus disposed of was judged to amount to about 500,000l. Mr. George Elwes, being now married, was naturally desirous that, in the assiduities of his wife, his father might at length find a comfortable home. The old man was induced to agree to the proposal, being offered a gratuitous conveyance. Mr. Elwes carried with him into Berkshire five guineas and a half, and halfa-crown, which he had carefully wrapt up in various folds of paper. Mr. George Elwes and his wife, whose good temper might well be expected to charm away the irritations of avarice and age, did everything they could to make the country a scene of quiet to him. But "he had that within" which baffled every effort of the kind. Of his heart it might be said that "there was no peace in Israel." His mind, cast away on the vast and troubled ocean of his property, extended beyond the bounds of calculation, returned to amuse itself with fetching and carrying about a few guineas! The first symptom of more immediate decay was his inability to enjoy his rest at night. Frequently would he be 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."

Mr. Partis, the gentleman who on this occasion took him down gratuitously into Berkshire, and was staying awhile in the house, was waked one morning about two o'clock by the noise of a naked foot, seemingly walking about his bedchamber with great caution. Somewhat alarmed, he naturally asked, "Who is there?" on which a person, coming up towards the bed, said with great civility, "Sir, my name is Elwes; I have been unfortunate enough to be robbed in this house, which I believe is mine, of all the money I have in the world-of five guineas and a half, and half-acrown. The unfortunate money was found a few days after in a corner behind the window shutter. For some weeks previous to his death he had got a custom of going to rest in his clothes. 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 hat upon his head. On the 18th of November, 1789, he discovered signs of that utter and total weakness which in eight days carried him to the grave. On the evening of the first day he was conveyed to bed, from which he rose no more. His appetite was gone; he had but a faint recollection of anything 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 with

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