Chapter V: Part 5

Dr. Webster, F.R.S., who takes great interest in records of Longevity, in 1860 contributed to the _Athenæum_ a copy of the certificate of birth of a lady in her 100th year, living at Hampstead, namely, the surviving sister of the authoress Miss Joanna Baillie, who died 1851, aged 89. This document is as follows:

Copy of an entry in a separate register of the Presbytery of
Hamilton, under the head “Shotts.”—That Mr. James Baillie had a
daughter named Agnes, born 24th September 1760, attested and signed
at Hamilton the 25th day of November 1760, in presence of the
Presbytery.—Signed, James Baillie; John Kirk, Clerk; Patrick
Maxwell, Moderator.

In the same year, 1859, died Lady Morgan, the novelist, at 76; Leigh Hunt, the poet and _littérateur_, at 75; Washington Irving, at 77; and Thomas de Quincey, at 76.

Lady Charlotte Bury, the novelist, attained the age of 88, retaining her beauty and conversational accomplishments to the last; she died 1861.

The Dowager Countess of Hardwicke, who died in 1858, in her long life brought points of time together which, at first, seem separated by impassable spaces. She was born in 1763, and was consequently 95 years of age; but her father, the Earl of Balcarres, having been advanced in years at the time of her birth, their two lives extend back to before the beginning of the eighteenth century; and it was strange to hear, in 1858, that a person just dead could speak of her father as having been “out in the Fifteen” (1715) with Lord Derwentwater and Forster, and having been begged off by the great Duke of Marlborough. Yet such was the fact; and not only so, but having been born in 1649, the three lives of grandfather, son, and granddaughter stretched over a period of 200 years; and, when her grandmother was married, Charles II. gave away the bride! When this venerable lady was born, Pitt the younger was 4 years old; Fox, a lad of 14; and Sheridan of 12,—so that they were strictly her contemporaries; Burke was turned of 30; she was 21 years old when Dr. Johnson died, and a well-grown girl when Goldsmith died, so that she might have known them both; and Sir Joshua Reynolds may have painted her, as she was near 30 when he died. All the literature of this century, running back to the birth of Scott and Wordsworth, eight or nine years after her own, was as much hers as ours. She was married and 26 before the French Revolution began; and the whole of the American Revolution must have been within her personal recollection.

Then there was Viscountess Keith, who died at about the same age, 95, and who had been “the plaything often, when a child,” of Johnson, and who received his last blessing on his death-bed. She was the daughter of Mrs. Thrale, and was a link that directly connected us with the Literary Club at its foundation, all the members of which she must have seen, and most of whom she was old enough to know well as a grown-up young lady.

Lady Louisa Stuart, the daughter of the Marquess of Bute, actually remembered her grandmother, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who died in 1762. She herself died 1851, aged 94, and was the intimate friend of Scott, and one of the few original depositaries of the Waverley secret.

And Mary Berry, aged 89, and her sister Agnes, 88, both died in 1852, having lived in the best of London society for sixty years. For the amusement of these ladies, Horace Walpole wrote his most delightful _Reminiscences_.

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Footnote 46:

_History of the World_, book i. chap. 5.

Footnote 47:

Chambers’s _Book of Days_, vol. i.

Footnote 48:

Walcott’s _Westminster_, p. 238.

Footnote 49:

Eironnach; _Notes and Queries_, No. 215.

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LONGEVITY AND DIET.

It may now be as well to glance at the modes of living of a few of the patriarchal folks. Cornaro, who is one of the _penates_ of healthful longevity, was born at Venice in 1464, of a noble family. In early life he injured his health by intemperance, and by indulging his propensity to anger; but he succeeded in acquiring such a command over himself, and in adopting such a system of temperance, as to recover his health and vigour, and to enjoy life to an extreme old age. At 83 he wrote a comedy “abounding with innocent mirth and pleasant jests.” At 86 he wrote: “I contrive to spend every hour with the greatest delight and pleasure.” He was fond of literature and the conversation of men of sense and good manners, and his principal delight was to be of service to others. Every year he travelled, visited architects, painters, sculptors, musicians, and husbandmen; and he was especially fond of natural scenery. “Being freed, by God’s grace, from the perturbations of the mind and the infirmities of the body,” he no longer experienced any of those contrary emotions which torment a number of young men, and many old ones destitute of strength and health, and every other blessing. His diet consisted of bread, meat, eggs, and soup, not exceeding in the day three-quarters of a pound of food, and a pint of new wine. He passed with health and comfort beyond his hundredth year; and at Padua, in 1566, sitting in his arm-chair, he died, as he had lived for his last threescore years, exempt from pain and suffering.

Thomas Parr[50] was an early riser. Taylor, the Water-poet, quaintly sings of his mode of living:

Good wholesome labour was his exercise,
Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise;
In wise and toiling sweat he spent the day,
And to his team he whistled time away;
The cock his night-clock, and till day was done,
His watch and chief sun-dial was the sun.
He was of old Pythagoras’ opinion,
That new cheese was most wholesome with an onion;
Coarse meslin bread; and for his daily swig,
Milk, butter-milk, and water, whey and whig;
Sometimes metheglin, and, by fortune happy,
He sometimes sipped a cup of ale most nappy,
Cider or perry, when he did repair
To a Whitson ale, wake, wedding, or a fair,
Or when in Christmas-time he was a guest,
At his good landlord’s house among the rest;
Else he had little leisure-time to waste,
Or at the alehouse buff-cup ale to taste;
His physic was good butter, which the soil
Of Salop yields, more sweet than Candy-oil;
And garlic he esteemed above the rate
Of Venice treacle, or best mithridate;
He entertained no gout, no ache he felt,
The air was good and temperate where he dwelt;
Thus living within bounds of Nature’s laws,
Of his long-lasting life may be some cause.

Taylor thus describes the person of Parr:

From head to heel, his body had all over
A quick-set, thick-set, natural hairy cover.

The Vegetarians maintain that their system of living conduces highly to longevity. We find in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, 1774, this recorded instance: “At Brussels, Elizabeth de Val, aged 103, who was remarkable for never having eaten a bit of meat in her life.”

An advocate of vegetable diet adduces the Norwegian and Russian peasantry as the most remarkable instances of extreme longevity: “The last returns of the Greek Church population of the Russian empire give (in the table of the deaths of the male sex) more than one thousand above 100 years of age, many between 140 and 150.... Slaves in the West Indies are recorded from 130 to 150 years of age.” Widow Rogers, of Penzance, Cornwall, who died 1779, aged 118, for the last sixty years lived entirely on vegetable diet.

Among the Pythagoreans of our time should be mentioned Sir Richard Phillips, who from his twelfth year conceived an abhorrence of the slaughter of animals for food; and from that period to his death, at the age of 72, he lived entirely on vegetable products, enjoying such robust health that no stranger could have suspected his studious and sedentary habits.[51] Sometimes this Pythagorean principle was strongly enunciated; as, when about to take his seat at a supper-party, perceiving a lobster on the table, he loudly denounced the cruelty of his friends’ sitting down to eat a creature which had been boiled alive! and the offensive dish had to be removed. Sir Richard often published his Reasons for not eating Animal Food; his abstinence drew upon him the harmless ridicule of a writer in the _Quarterly Review_, observing that, although he would not eat meat, he was addicted to gravy over his potatoes.

One Wilson, of Worlingworth, Suffolk, who died 1782, aged 116, for the last forty years of his life supped off roasted turnips, to which he ascribed his long life.

The Hon. Mrs. Watkins, of Glamorganshire, who died 1790, aged 110, for her last thirty years lived principally on potatoes. The year before her death she came from Glamorgan to London to see Mrs. Siddons play, and attended the theatre nine nights; and one morning she mounted to the Whispering-gallery of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

It is rarely that table-wits attain such longevity as did Captain Morris, the Anacreon of the Beef-steak Club, who wrote lyrics at the age of 90. He died three years afterwards. He was of short stature, and usually wore a buff waistcoat, such as he apostrophised in one of his latest lyrics, “The old Whig Poet to his old Buff Waistcoat.” He lies in the churchyard of Betchworth, Surrey,—his grave simply marked by a head and foot stone, 1838.

Civic annals present few such instances of long life as that of Richard Clark, Chamberlain of London, who died 1831, in his 92d year. He was one of the latest of the contemporaries of Dr. Johnson, whom he had known from his 15th year: when sheriff, he took the Doctor to a “Judges’ Dinner” at the Old Bailey, the judges being Blackstone and Eyre.

In the autumn of 1831 died the Rev. Dr. Shaw, aged 83, of Chesley, Somerset, said to have been the last surviving friend of Dr. Johnson.

Few persons addicted to riotous living attain great ages. A remarkable exception is recorded of George Kirton, Esq., of Oxcrop Hall, Yorkshire, who died in 1762, aged 125. He was a stanch foxhunter, and hunted till after he was 80; thenceforth, till his hundredth year, he attended the “breaking cover” in his single chair. He was a heavy drinker till within a few years of his death.

Thomas Whittington, who died at Hillingdon, Middlesex, in 1804, aged 104, retained his faculties to the last, and could walk two or three miles; yet he was a great drinker, gin being the only fluid he took into his stomach, and of this a pint and a half daily, until a fortnight of his death. He remembered William III. and Queen Anne; and in 1745 he conveyed troops and baggage from Uxbridge to London. His father died at exactly the same age (104) as the son, and both lie in Hillingdon churchyard.

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Footnote 50:

In the Ashmolean Collection at Oxford is a portrait of Old Parr,
presumed to have been painted from the life, and, we believe, not
engraved. The portrait by Rubens is well known.

Footnote 51:

The portrait of Sir Richard Phillips as Sheriff, painted by Saxon,
shows him as above described. The picture is of gallery size, and in
the possession of his grandson and representative, Mr. Bacon Phillips,
M.R.C.S., of Brighton. The bust of Sir Richard, by Turnerelli, conveys
a similar _personnel_.

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LONGEVITY AND LOCALITIES.

With respect to the atmosphere most favourable to health and longevity, Sir John Sinclair says, “More depends upon a current of pure air than mere elevation. There is no place in Scotland, proportionably with its population, where a greater number of aged people are to be found than in the neighbourhood of Loch Lomond.” The purest atmosphere, Sir John maintains, is in the neighbourhood of a small stream running over a rocky or pebbly bottom.

Mr. Thomas Bailey, in his _Records of Longevity_, states that “Nottinghamshire has the driest atmosphere of any district in England, the depth of rain which falls there being something like 50 per cent below what falls in Lancashire, Devonshire, and one or two of the northern counties;” yet the records show that it enjoys no superiority, in point of the longevity of its inhabitants, over those moister districts. Hence it is concluded that moderately moist air is most conducive to great age. The reason Hufeland assigns for this is, that moist air, being in part already saturated, has less attractive power over bodies,—that is to say, consumes them less. Besides, in a moist atmosphere there is always more uniformity of temperature, fewer rapid revolutions of heat being possible than in a dry atmosphere. Lastly, an atmosphere somewhat moist keeps the muscular tissue of the body longer pliable, whereas that which is dry or arid brings on much sooner rigidity of the muscles and vessels of the body, and all the characteristics of old age. It is this very dry air, joined with the heat of the sun, which gives to the dried and shrivelled skin of the face of some old men, in the felicitous humour of Charles Dickens, “the appearance of a walnut-shell.”

We now proceed to cite instances of Long Life from various localities. On the fly-leaves of a book named _Long Livers_, published in 1722, were written the following notes of several old persons in Yorkshire: Ursula Chicken, at Holderness, 120 years in 1718, and she lived some years later. In Firbeck churchyard were buried a brother and son, one 113 and the other 109 years old, both of whom had lived in caves at Roche Abbey. Mr. Philip, of Thorner, born in Cleveland (the birthplace of Old Jenkins), had his picture taken when he was 116 years old, with all his senses perfect. Thomas Rudyard, Vicar of Everton, in Bedfordshire, died in King Charles’s time, aged 140 years, as appears by the parish register. Early in June 1768 died, at Burythorpe, near Malton, Francis Consit, aged 150 years. A few years previously there were three women, each 100 years old, or upwards, who lived in and about Whitwell, met at that town and danced a Yorkshire reel. About 1758 a woman died at Sutton 107 years old. “Old Robinson’s father, at Boltby, lived to 108,” and he himself beyond 98.[52]

The register of Middleton Tyas, adjoining, contains, in sixteen years, entries of 230 persons buried, of whom seventy-six had reached the age of 70 years or upwards. In 1813, of fifteen deceased, three were 90, 91, and 92; in 1815 a person died 97; and thirty-three of the number specified were 80 years old and upwards; and in the churchyard are buried two persons of 103 and 101 years. But within the last thirty-five years instances of longevity in this parish, once so common, form the exception.

Mr. Durrant Cooper, F.S.A., has communicated to _Notes and Queries_, No. 212, these interesting records from the burial register of Skelton-in-Cleveland, in the North Riding of Yorkshire:

Out of 799 persons buried between 1813 and 1852, no less than 263,
or nearly one-third, attained the age of 70. Of these, two were
respectively 101. Nineteen others were 90 years of age and upwards,
viz. one 97, one 96, one 95, four 94, one 93, five 92, three 91, and
three 90. Between the ages of 80 and 90 there died 109; and between
70 and 80 there died 133. In one page of the register, containing
eight names, six were above 80, and in another five were above 70.

In the parish of Skelton there was then living a man named Moon, 104
years old, who was blind, but managed a small farm till nearly or
quite 100; and a blacksmith, named Robinson Cook, aged 98, who
worked at his trade until within six months of this age.

In the chapelry of Brotton, adjoining Skelton township, the
longevity was even more remarkable. Out of 346 persons buried since
the new register came into force in 1813, down to Oct. 1, 1853, more
than one-third attained the age of 70. One Betty Thompson, who died
in 1834, was 101; nineteen were more than 90, of whom one was 98,
two 97, three 95, one 93, four 92, five 91, and three 90; forty-four
died between 80 and 90 years old, and fifty-seven between 70 and 80,
of whom thirty-one were 75 and upwards. That celibacy did not lessen
the chance of life was proved by a bachelor named Simpson, who died
at 82, and his maiden sister at 91.

Gilling, in Richmondshire, shows also a very great length of life, and in persons above 90 years of age a larger proportion even than in the Cleveland parishes. Between 1813 and 1853, of 701 persons buried, 207, or rather more than one-third, attained the age of 70 and upwards. Three were 100, or upwards; between 90 and 100, twenty-one; one 96, 95, and 94; two 92, six 91, and ten 90. Between 80 and 90 there died 87; between 70 and 80, ninety-six.

George Stephenson, a farm-labourer, of Runald-Kirk, near Barnard-Castle, Durham, who died 1812, aged 105, was a very early riser; he used to reprove (for lying a-bed) his daughter and her husband, both about 70 years of age, but who rose before six o’clock in the morning,—George saying, “if they would not work while they were _young_, what would they do when they became old?”

Mr. Carruthers, of Inverness, whose evidence is entitled to respect, wrote in 1836, that “the patriarchs of the glen of Strathcarron have been gathered to their fathers. The primitive manners of the olden time are disappearing even in that remote corner, and human life is dwindling down to its ordinary brief limits.” This experience is the converse of the opinion that civilisation and refinement tend to lengthen life.

The Western Isles of Scotland have long been noted for persons of great age. Martin describes a male native of Jura, who had kept 180 Christmas festivals in his own house, and this marvellous account was confirmed to Pennant; but the evidence is not given, and the man died fifty years before Martin’s visit. Buchanan, in his _History of Shetland_, gives an account of one Laurence, a Shetlander, who lived to 140; Dr. Derham, in his _Physico-Theology_, confirms this, and Martin received from Laurence’s family particulars of his fishing to the last year of his life. At Orkney Martin heard of a man aged 112; and that one William Muir, of Westra, lived to be near 140. Tarquis M’Leod, near Stornoway, in the island of Lewis, died in 1787, aged 113; he had fought at Killiecrankie, Sheriffmuir, and Culloden, under the Stuarts.

In the _Aberdeen Journal_ we find this evidence: Died, at Strichen, Widow Reid, aged 81; and in the following fortnight, Christian Grant, aged 97 years. The surviving resident paupers number only twenty-five, and among them there are seven individuals whose respective ages are 92, 90, 88, 86, 83, 82, and 80 years—making a total of 601 years, and an average of nearly 86 years to each. These statistics, in a parish containing a population of only 947, are perhaps unparalleled in Scotland.

A well-authenticated instance is that of Mrs. Elizabeth Gray, who died at Edinburgh on the 2d of April 1856, at the age of 108, having been born in May 1748, as chronicled in the register of her father’s parish. Her mother attained 96, and two of her sisters died at 94 and 96 respectively. In 1808 died the Hon. Mrs. Hay Mackenzie, of Cromartie, at the age of 103. The well-known Countess Dowager of Cork died in 1840, having just completed her 94th year; she was to the last accustomed to dine out every day when she had not company at home. Mr. Francis Brokesby, in 1711, wrote of a woman then living near the Tower of London, aged about 130, and who remembered Queen Elizabeth; to the last there was not a gray hair on her head, and she never lost memory or judgment. Mr. Brokesby also records the death, about 1660, of the wife of a labouring man at Hedgerow, in Cheshire; she is said to have attained the age of 140.[53]

Reflecting upon this record, Mr. Robert Chambers observes, with poetic feeling, “When we think of such things, the ordinary laws of nature seem to have undergone some partial relaxation; and the dust of ancient times almost becomes living flesh before our eyes.” We confess to the weakness of being occasionally depressed in the society of some very aged persons. We remember Louis Pouchée to have died about twenty years since, considerably above 100 years old: his voice was a childish treble, and there was at last a sort of forced gaiety in his manner which was any thing but cheerful; his piping of “I’ve kissed and I’ve prattled with fifty fair maids” was a lugubrious rendering of that lively lyric.

In White’s _Suffolk Directory_ for 1844, the following living instances are recorded. “W. A. Shuldham, Esq., resides at the Hall, in which, on July 18, 1843, he celebrated the hundredth anniversary of his birthday. Mrs. Susan Godbold, who was born at Flixton, has resided at Metfield eighty years, and walked round the village on her 104th birthday, Sept. 13, 1843. Thomas Morse, Esq., of Lound, is now in his 99th year.” Dr. Smith, residing at Bawdsea, a few years since completed his 109th; when, in the fulness of his spirits, he expressed a belief that he should live for some years to come.

Here is an instance of remarkable memory. George Kelson (”the Woodman,” in illustration of Cowper’s poem) died near Bath in 1820, aged 101; he gave evidence before the Commissioners of Public Charities, deposing, with great clearness, to facts which had occurred ninety years before his examination.

The parish register of Bremhill, Wiltshire, records: “Buried, September the 29th, 1696, Edith Goldie, Grace Young, Elizabeth Wiltshire. Their united ages make 300 years.”[54]

Two centuries ago, the now sleepy town of Woodstock, Oxon., was proverbial for its long livers. The Rev. John Ward, Vicar of Stratford-upon-Avon, in his Diary, 1648-9, records: “Old Bryan, of Woodstock, a taylor by profession, and a fiddler by present practice, of age 90, yet very lively, and will travail well. George Green and Cripps, each 90, very hard labourers. Thomas Cock, _alias_ Hawkins, 112 years of age when he died. Woodstock men frequently long lived. Goody Jones, of Woodstock, and old Bryan, two such old people as it is thought England does not afford, nor two such travailors of their age.”

In 1637 there was living in Blackboy-lane, Oxford, “Mother George,” who, although 120 years of age, could thread a fine needle without the help of spectacles.[55]

Between February and May 1767, there died in Oxford seven persons whose ages together amount to 616, viz. 88, 93, 86, 87, 90, 82, and 90. In the same year is recorded the death of Francis Ange, in Maryland, aged 130; he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, remembered the death of King Charles I., and left England soon after.[56]

The heads of Colleges in Oxford have frequently attained great ages: we have mentioned Dr. Routh, President of Magdalen, who died in his 100th year. There are generally very old people living in Oxford; and at Iffley the ages recorded in the churchyard commonly exceed 70.

Midhurst, in Sussex, must be a healthy locality; for, according to the _Dublin Chronicle_, December 2, 1788, the town, then containing only 140 houses and cottages, had seventy-eight inhabitants whose ages were above 70; thirty-two were 80 and upwards; and five were between 90 and 100; and the seventy-eight persons, except four, were in some business or occupation.

Wye, near Ashford, Kent, is another noted locality for long life; the ages of 70, 80, and even 90, being by no means rare in the parish register.

In 1800 twenty-two men died in England and Wales who had reached or passed the age of 100, and forty-seven women. The oldest woman, 111 years of age, died in Glamorganshire. With the men there was a tie: a man aged 107 died in Hampshire, and another of the same age in Pembrokeshire. Four of the centenarians died in London, two others at Camberwell, one also at Greenwich, and one at Lewisham. More men died in the year than women; but of the 595 persons who had reached the age of 95 or upwards before they died, nearly two-thirds were women.

Great longevity is attained in some of the murky streets, lanes, and alleys of London. In 1767 died Widow Prossen, of Oxford-road, in her 102d year, having passed nearly her whole life among old clothes in a pawnbroker’s shop, accumulating a large fortune. In the same year died her neighbour, Benjamin Perryn, aged 103.

In 1767 also we find Widow Waters, of Saffron-hill, dying at the age of 103; and one Wood, of Markam-court, Chandos-street, at 100.

In 1846 there died in grimy Holywell-street, Strand, one Harris, a Jew clothesman, who had lived in the same street more than seventy years: his wife died a few years before him, at the age of 93; and his eldest son was 73 at the time of his father’s death. In 1780 there died in St. Martin’s workhouse Widow Pettit, aged 114; and next year, Widow Parker, of White-Hart-yard, Drury-lane, aged 108, with all her faculties unimpaired.

In 1788 there died at Hoxton, aged 121, a widow, who, up to a very advanced period, cried gray peas for sale about the streets of London; and was well remembered by many aged persons as a woman apparently beyond the middle stage of life, full twenty years before the time of her decease.[57]

Occasionally we find very old persons almost _growing to the spot_ on which they were born. In 1780 died at Englefield, Hants, James Hopper, an agricultural labourer, aged 108, who had never quitted his native Englefield even for a few miles. And in 1799 died Mr. Humphries, a carpenter, born at Newington, Surrey, aged 102, and who would never go more than two or three miles from the house in which he was born. One Trundle, a farmer of Rotherhithe, who died 1766, aged 100, had lived in the same house eighty-two years. Sometimes this takes the turn of misanthropic seclusion: Christopher Tarran, of Sutton, near Richmond, Yorkshire, who died 1827, aged 93, shut himself up in his chamber, from which he never stirred during the last twenty years of his life, and only twice admitted any one into the room. In 1811 there died at Desford, Leicestershire, one John Upton, aged 100; he had been a worsted framework-knitter for one firm in Leicester for ninety-three years.

Widow Richardson, of Holwell, Leicestershire, who died 1806, aged 97, kept school in the parish 75 years, and was never five miles from home during her long life.

We remember two stalwart millers, brothers, Joseph and John Saunders, aged 79 and 73, born at Pixham-mill, and then of Pixham-house, hard by, near the foot of Boxhill, Surrey, where they died, at the above ages.

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Footnote 52:

Edward Hailstone, Horton Hall; _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No.
230.

Footnote 53:

Condensed from Chambers’s _Book of Days_, vol. i.

Footnote 54:

Britton’s _Wilts_. vol. iii.

Footnote 55:

_Walks in Oxford_, 1817.

Footnote 56:

_Select. Gent. Mag._ iv.

Footnote 57:

Bailey’s _Records of Longevity_, p. 249.

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LONGEVITY OF CLASSES.

Deep-thinking philosophers have at all times been distinguished by their great age, especially when their philosophy was occupied in the study of Nature, and afforded them the divine pleasure of discovering new and important truths,—the purest enjoyment; a beneficial exaltation of ourselves, and a kind of restoration which may be ranked among the principal means of prolonging the life of a perfect being. The most ancient instances are to be found among the Stoics and the Pythagoreans, according to whose ideas subduing the passions and sensibility, with the observation of strict regimen, were the most essential duties of a philosopher. Thus, we have the examples of a Plato and an Isocrates. Apollonius of Tyana, an accomplished man, endowed with extraordinary powers both of body and mind, who by the Christians was considered as a magician, and by the Greeks and Romans as a messenger of the gods, in his regimen a follower of Pythagoras, and a friend to travelling, was above 100 years of age. Xenophilus, a Pythagorean also, lived 106 years. The philosopher Demonax, a man of the most severe manners and uncommon stoical apathy, lived likewise 100. Even in modern times philosophers seem to have obtained this preëminence; and the deepest thinkers appear in that respect to have enjoyed, in a higher degree, the fruits of their mental tranquillity. Kepler and Bacon both attained to a great age; and Newton, who found all his happiness and pleasure in the higher spheres, attained to the age of 84. Euler, a man of incredible industry, whose works on the most abstruse subjects amount to above three hundred, approached near to the same age; and Kant, who reached the age of 80, showed that philosophy not only can preserve life, but that it is the most faithful companion of the greatest age, and an inexhaustible source of happiness to one’s self and to others. Academicians, in this respect, have been particularly distinguished. We need only mention the venerable Fontenelle,[58] who wanted but one year of a hundred, and that Nestor, Formey; both perpetual secretaries, the former of the French, and the latter of the Berlin Academy.

We find also many instances of long life among schoolmasters, so that one might almost believe that continual intercourse with youth may contribute something towards our renovation and support. But poets and artists, in short all those fortunate mortals whose principal occupation leads them to be conversant with the sports of fancy and self-created worlds, and whose whole life, in the properest sense, is an agreeable dream, have a particular claim to a place in the history of longevity. Anacreon, Sophocles, and Pindar attained a great age. Young, Voltaire, Bodmer, Haller, Metastasio, Gleim, Utz, and Oeser, all lived to be very old; and Wieland, the prince of German poets, lived to the age of 80. (See _Wilson on Longevity_.)

Among the clergy are several remarkable instances. The venerable Bishop Hough, the Cato of Sir Thomas Bernard’s _Comforts of Old Age_, through an extraordinary degree of health of body and mind, attained the age of 92. “Blessed be God for his great mercies to me! I have to-day entered my ninetieth year, with less infirmity than I could have presumed to hope, and certainly with a degree of calmness and tranquillity of mind, which is gradually increasing as I daily approach the end of my pilgrimage. I think, indeed, that my life must now be but of short duration; and, I thank God, the thought gives me no uneasiness.”[59]

Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, after he had been deprived and ejected from Lambeth, for refusing to take any new oaths to William and Mary, retired to his paternal estate, of 50_l._ a year, at Fresingfield, in Suffolk, his birthplace. He was then approaching fourscore; and here he was visited by Bishop Hough, in 1693.

I found him (says the Bishop) working in his garden, and taking
advantage of a shower of rain which had fallen to transplant some
lettuces. I was struck with the profusion of his vegetables, the
beauty and luxuriance of his fruit-trees, and the richness and
fragrance of his flowers, and noticed the taste which had directed
every thing. “You must not compliment too hastily (says he) on the
_directions_ which I have given. Almost all you see is the work of
my own hands. My old woman does the weeding, and John mows my turf
and digs for me; but all the nicer work,—the sowing, grafting,
budding, transplanting, and the like,—I trust to no other hand but
my own; so long, at least, as my health will allow me to enjoy so
pleasing an occupation. And in good sooth (added he) the fruits here
taste more sweet, and the flowers have a richer perfume, than they
had at Lambeth.” I looked up to our deprived metropolitan with more
respect, and thought his gardening-dress shed more splendour over
him, than ever his robes and lawn-sleeves could have done when he
was the first subject in this great kingdom.[60]

The Rev. Mr. Sampson, Incumbent of Keyham, Leicestershire, who died 1655, is stated by Thoresby to have held the living of his parish 92 years; so that he could scarcely be less than 116 years old.

The Rev. R. Lufkin, Rector of Ufford, Suffolk, died September 1678, aged 110, having preached the Sunday before he died.

Morton, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, who died 1695, aged 95, constantly rose at four o’clock to his studies when he was 80 years old; he usually lay upon a straw bed, and seldom exceeded one meal a day.

Here are two lengthy incumbencies: “1753, December 22. Rev. Mr. Braithwaite, of Carlisle, [died] aged 110. He had been 100 years in the cathedral, having commenced singing-boy in the year 1652.” “1763. Rev. Peter Alley (Rector of Donamow, Ireland, 73 years), [died] in the 111th year of his age. He did his own duty till within a few days of his death; he was twice married, and had thirty-three children.”[61]

The Rev. John Bedwell, Rector of Odstock, near Salisbury, according to the Bishop’s registry, held that benefice 73 years; and, by the parish register, died at the age of 108.

The Rev. S. W. Warneford, the munificent benefactor to colleges and schools, died 1855, aged 92; and Maltby, Bishop of Durham, 1859, at 90.

Soldiers who survive the chances of war are proverbial for long life: there are several instances recorded in the Chelsea Hospital burial-ground. The lists of the survivors of England’s great battles present instances ranging from 100 to 120 years.[62] The oldest General of our time was Marshal Count Joseph Radetzsky, who died January 5, 1858, in his 92d year.

“History only mentions a single man who, at such an advanced age, commanded an army in the field; and that was Dandolo, the Doge of Venice, who was 95 years of age, and almost blind, when he commanded the Venetians in the great Crusade, and who was the first to enter Constantinople at the time of the assault on it in 1203. Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, was 83 years old when he commanded in Guienne, in 1453; but he was killed in the same year at the battle of Chatillon. Fuentes, General of the Spanish troops at the battle of Rocroy, in 1643, was 82; but he was gouty, and was carried in an arm-chair. He fell in that battle, and with him disappeared the glory of the Spanish arms. The Prussian Field-Marshal Mollendorf was present, in his 82d year, at the defeat of Auerstadt, but not as commander-in-chief. One octogenarian of modern times has been more fortunate than the preceding, and that is Marshal de Villars, who, in his 81st year, undertook the campaign of 1712, crowned by the victory of Denain, which saved the French monarchy.”[63]

Quakers attain great ages. In the Obituary of the _Friend_ Magazine, 1860, we find the following ages of some deceased members of the Society of Friends: 84, 84, 85, 85, 85, 86, 86, 87, 87, 88, 88, 89, 89, 89, 91, 91, 91, 91, 91, 91, 92, 92, 93, 93—making a total of 2128 years, with an average for each life of rather more than 88½ years. Fifty lives in the same period give 4258 years, with an average of 85 per life. The average duration of life in the Society of Friends during 1860 was 58 years and 6 months; but one girl died under 6 months old; five girls and thirteen boys—in all eighteen out of the 324, or 5½ per cent—did not reach the age of one year.

Hard-workers are often long livers. Hobson, the noted Cambridge carrier, died on New-year’s Day, 1630-1, it is said in his 86th year. His visits to London were suspended on account of the Plague, and during this cessation he died; whereupon Milton remarked that Death would never have hit him had he continued dodging it backwards and forwards between Cambridge and the Bull Inn, Bishopsgate.

One John King, of Nokes, Oxon, died in 1766, at the age of 130: he was a farm-labourer, and at the age of 128 walked to and from the market at Oxford—twelve miles. One Wilks, a farm-labourer, of Stourbridge, Worcestershire, who died 1777, aged 109, was suspected by his ignorant neighbours of having purchased the secret of long life from a witch with whom he had become acquainted.

An Irish fisherman, Jonas Warren, who died 1787, Mr. Bailey states, at 167, had for ninety-five years drawn his subsistence from the ocean. Another fisherman, Worrell, of Dunwich, Suffolk, died 1789, aged 119, having fished till he was 107.

On June 3, 1862, there died at his farm, Tullyskerra, near Castleblayney, Gilbert Hand, at the advanced age of 105 years. Two days before his death deceased travelled round his farm, apparently taking his last farewell of the fields in which he so often toiled.

Of Ephraim Pratt, who was living at Shaftesbury, U.S., in 1803, aged 116 years, the Rev. Timothy Dwight relates that he had mown grass 101 years successively. He drank large quantities of milk, and in his latter years it was almost his sole sustenance. His descendants, to the fifth generation, it was publicly stated, numbered more than 1500 persons.

Margaret Woods, of Great Waltham, who died 1797, aged 100, had, with her ancestors, lived in the service of one Essex family for 400 years.

Here is well-authenticated evidence of long service from Sussex. At Battle is the gravestone of Isaac Ingoll, who died April 2, 1798, aged 120 years; his register is to be seen in the parish, and he lived 101 years in the service of the Webster family, of Battle Abbey, having entered it at the age of 19.[64]

Philip Palfreman, who had been box-keeper at the first Covent Garden Theatre in Garrick’s time, died in 1768, aged 100: he almost lived in the theatre, and by his thrift saved a fortune of 10,000_l._ In 1845 died William Ward, aged 98, of the Sun Fire Office, London, where he had filled a situation seventy years.

Jockeys, from the severe effects of training, are proverbially short-lived; yet John Scott, of Brighton, once a jockey, reached the age of 96.

Great pedestrian feats have been performed by very old men. Mr. M’Leod, of Inverness, who died 1790, aged 102, two years previously walked from Inverness to London (five hundred miles) in nineteen days: he had served in Marlborough’s wars.

On May 28, 1802, a lunatic named James Coyle, 47 years old, was admitted a patient into St. Patrick’s (Swift’s) Hospital, Dublin: he continued there upwards of fifty-eight years, and eventually died July 17, 1860, at the age of 105. There can surely be no mistake as to this great age.

Peter Breman, of Dyott-street, St. Giles’s, London, is one of the few instances on record of long life attained by tall men: he stood 6 feet 6 inches high, and was in the army from the age of 18 nearly until his decease, in 1769, at the age of 104 years. Another tall man, Edmund Barry, of Watergrass-hill, Ireland, died 1822, aged 113: he was 6 feet 2 inches in height, and walked well to the last.

One John Minniken, of Maryport, Cumberland, who died 1793, aged 112, was remarkable for the fast growth and profusion of his hair, which he sold, in successive croppings, to a hairdresser of the town, for a penny a day, during the remainder of his life; and more than seventy wigs were made of Minniken’s hair.

Among aged persons of diminutive stature was Mary Jones, of Wem, Salop, who died 1773, aged 100: she was only 2 feet 8 inches in height. Elspeth Watson, of Perth, who died 1800, aged 115, did not exceed 2 feet 9 inches in height, but was bulky in person.

Old age can rarely withstand intense grief. John Tice, of Hagley, Worcestershire, having recovered from a fall out of a tree when he was 80 years old, and from being much burned when he was 100, after the death of his patron, Lord Lyttleton, became so depressed in spirits, that he took to his bed and died. Sir Francis Burdett had withstood the storms and tumults of political life for more than half a century, and had reached the age of 74, when his dear wife died, Jan. 10, 1844: from that instant Sir Francis refused food or nourishment of any kind, and he died of intense grief on the 23d of the same month: both were buried in the same vault, in the same hour, on the same day, in the church of Ramsbury, Wilts.

Cardinal Fleury, the great French minister, who died in 1743, had attained the age of 90. For fourteen years he essentially contributed to the peace and prosperity of France; but the three last years of his administration were unfortunate. On the death of the Emperor Charles XI., in 1740, without male issue, a war ensued respecting the imperial succession, the calamitous events of which preyed on the Cardinal’s mind and occasioned his death.

Sir John Floyer, Physician to Queen Anne, seems to have found the golden mean of happiness. He died in 1734; four years previous to which he visited Bishop Hough, at Hartlebury. “Sir John Floyer (writes the Bishop to a friend) has been with me some weeks; and all my neighbours are surprised to see a man of eighty-five, who has his memory, understanding, and all his senses good; and seems to labour under no infirmity. _He is of a happy temper, not to be moved with what he cannot remedy;_ which I really believe has, in a great measure, helped to preserve his health and prolong his days.” This is the grand secret. Sir John wrote a curious Essay on Cold Bathing, among the benefits of which he does not omit long life.

Dr. Cheyne, the Scottish physician, of this period, in his well-known Essay, advocates strict regimen for preventing and curing diseases: by milk and vegetable diet he reduced himself from thirty-two stone weight almost a third, recovered his strength, activity, and cheerfulness, and attained the good age of 72.

Jeremy Bentham, the eminent philosophical jurist and writer on legislation, died in 1832, in Queen-square-place, Westminster, where he had resided nearly half a century, in his 85th year. Up to extreme old age he retained much of the intellectual power of the prime of manhood, the simplicity and freshness of early youth; and even in the last moments of his existence the serenity and cheerfulness of his mind did not desert him. “He was capable,” says Dr. Southwood Smith, to whom he bequeathed his body for purposes of anatomical science, in the lecture delivered over his remains, “of great severity and continuity of mental labour. For upwards of half a century he devoted seldom less than eight, often ten, and occasionally twelve hours of every day to intense study. This was the more remarkable as his physical constitution was by no means strong. His health during the periods of childhood, youth, and adolescence was infirm; it was not until the age of manhood that it acquired some degree of vigour; but that vigour increased with advancing age, so that during the space of sixty years he never laboured under any serious malady, and rarely suffered even from slight indisposition; and at the age of 84 he looked no older, and constitutionally was not older, than most men are at 60; thus adding another illustrious name to the splendid catalogue which establishes the fact, that severe and constant mental labour is not incompatible with health and longevity, but conducive to both, provided the mind be unanxious and the habits temperate.

“He was a great economist of time. He knew the value of minutes. The disposal of his hours, both of labour and of repose, was a matter of systematic arrangement; and the arrangement was determined on the principle that it is a calamity to lose the smallest portion of time. He did not deem it sufficient to provide against the loss of a day or an hour; he took effectual means to prevent the occurrence of any such calamity to him. But he did more: he was careful to provide against the loss of even a single minute; and there is on record no example of a human being who lived more habitually under the practical consciousness that his days are numbered, and that ‘the night cometh in which no man can work.’”

It should, however, be added, that Mr. Bentham’s lot in life was a happy one. Even though he did not enjoy a widely diffused reputation in his own country, and his peculiar views exposed him to the attacks of contemporary writers, his easy circumstances and excellent health enabled him to devote his whole time and energies to those pursuits which exercised his highest faculties, and were to him a rich and unfailing source of the most delightful excitement. His retired habits likewise preserved him from personal contact with any but those who valued his acquaintance; and as for the writers who spoke of him with ridicule and contempt, he never read them, and therefore they never disturbed the serenity of his mind, or ruffled the tranquil surface of his contemplative and happy life.

It would be well for public writers if they possessed more of such equanimity as Mr. Bentham’s, to shield them from the venom of adverse criticism and the attacks of those dishonest critics who abuse every indication of success which they conceive to stand in the way of their own advancement. We have something of the old leaven of Grub-street in our times, though the name is blotted out from our metropolitan streetology. It is true that the patronage of great men is no longer valued by men of letters,—it is but as dust in the balance against the weight of public opinion,—but something of the old trade of factious criticism which Swift, Pope, and Warburton so mercilessly exposed, has survived even to our days.

Mr. Thackeray, to our thinking one of the most masculine and unaffected writers of his day, has well described the Grub-street association of “author and rags—author and dirt—author and gin,” such as were the literary hacks of the reign of George II.; but literature now takes its rank with other learned professions.

---------------------
Footnote 58:

Fontenelle attributed his longevity to a good course of strawberry
eating every season: his only ailment was fever in the spring; when he
used to say, “If I can only hold out till strawberries come in, I
shall get well.” His long life may, however, rather be attributed to
his insensibility, of which he himself boasted: he was rarely known to
laugh or cry.

Footnote 59:

Bishop Hough; _Comforts of Old Age_.

Footnote 60:

Ibid.

Footnote 61:

_Selections Gent. Mag._ vol. iv. p. 299.

Footnote 62:

See _Choice Notes_ (History), pp. 170-177; and Military Centenarians,
_Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. 232, pp. 238, 239, for several
well-authenticated records.

Footnote 63:

_Morning Advertiser._

Footnote 64:

_Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. 250.

----------------------------

Great Ages

To return to Longevity. The following additional instances are mostly of our own time:

Among Lawyers, Francis Maseres, fifty years Cursitor-Baron of the
Court of Exchequer, died 1824, at the age of 93: he was a ripe
classical scholar, and one of the ablest mathematicians of his day.
The Eldon family present three noteworthy examples: Mr. Scott, the
Newcastle merchant, father of Lord Stowell and the Earl of Eldon,
died 1800, at the age of 92: the two eminent sons, Stowell, 1836, at
91, and Eldon, 1838, at 87. Lord Plunket, the statesman and lawyer,
who died 1854, had reached 90. Lord Chancellor Campbell, who in his
busy law-life wrote many volumes of biography, attained the age of
81.

Sir William Blizard, the Surgeon, who died in 1835, in his 94th
year, rose to eminence under many disadvantages. With all his
activity and industry, except a fever caught by working night and
day in the dissecting-room, his health never failed him till the
last; he was temperate; and the only wine he drank was Cape. Sir
William Burnett, the physician and scientific inventor, reached 82.

In 1862 two eminent Mathematicians died within a month of each
other: Jean Baptiste Biot, aged 88; and Peter Barlow, 86. Prof.
Narrien, of Sandhurst, died 1860, at 77; and, same year and age,
Finlaison, the actuary.

Francis Place, the Westminster Politician, who died 1854, had
reached 82. The Duc de Pasquier, the celebrated French statesman,
attained the great age of 96: he died 1862, and was the oldest
statesman of our time. Talleyrand, next to Napoleon the most
extraordinary man of the revolutionary period of France, died 1838,
aged 84.

The oldest Poets of our time were W. L. Bowles, 1850, aged 88; same
year, Wordsworth, poet-laureate, 80; James Montgomery, 1854, at 82;
Samuel Rogers, 1855, aged 96; Arndt, the German poet, 1860, at 91;
and Dr. Croly, the poet and divine, 86.

Mitscherlich, the German Philologist, died 1854, at 94; same
year, Gresnall, biographer, 89, and Faber, theologian, 80.
Hamner-Purgstall, the Oriental historian, who died 1856, had
attained 87; 1857, Hincks, the Orientalist, 90.

Sir John Stoddart, the Newspaper editor, who died 1855, had reached
85,—a rare age for a public journalist. John Sharpe, the tasteful
_littérateur_, who died 1860, reached 83.

Dr. Lingard, the Historian, died 1851, aged 82. In 1859, Hallam, the
historian; same year, Elphinstone, the historian of India, aged 81.

John Britton, the Topographer and antiquary, who died 1857, had
reached 86: he was cheerful and chirping almost to the end. His
brother topographer, Brayley, died 1854, aged 85. John Adey Repton,
the architect and archæologist, died 1860, aged 86; Joseph Hunter,
archæologist, 1861, 78.

Kirby, the Entomologist, who died 1860, had reached 91. Professor
Jameson, the naturalist, died 1854, aged 81. Brunel, the engineer of
the Thames Tunnel, died 1849, aged 81. Captain Manby, who invented
apparatus for saving shipwrecked persons, and who died 1854, had
reached 89. Sir John Ross, the Arctic navigator, died 1856, at 79.
The chemists, Andrew Ure, at 79, and Thenard, at 80, died 1857.
Baron Humboldt, who died 1859, reached 92; same year, Sir G.
Staunton, the Chinese scholar, at 79. Colonel Leake, the geographer,
1860, at 83; and in the same year Carl Ritter, the geographer, 81;
and Bishop Rigaud, astronomer, 85.

In 1858 died an unusually large number of Men of Science and
Letters, and Artists, at great ages. Count Radetzsky, at 92;
Creuzer, the German antiquary, 87; Thomas Tooke, political
economist, 85; three musical composers, Neukomm, 80; J. B. Cramer,
88; and Horsley, 84;—Esenbach, botanist, 82; Aimé de Bonpland, 85;
Robert Brown, botanist, 84; Bunting, Wesleyan preacher, 80; Mrs.
Marcet, educational writer, 89; Edward Pease, “the Father of
Railways,” 92; Robert Owen, socialist, 87; Richard Taylor, of the
_Philosophical Magazine_, 77.

In 1860 we lost the following eminent Engineers: Vicat (France),
aged 75; General Pasley, 80; Eaton Hodgkinson, 72; Sir Howard
Douglas, 86. In 1862 there died General Tulloch, at 72; and James
Walker, at 81; and in 1860, Jesse Hartley, 80.

Charles Macklin, the oldest English Actor and playwright, who died
1797, had reached the age of 107: for his last twenty years he never
took off his clothes, except to change them, or to be rubbed over
with warm brandy or gin; he ate, drank, and slept without regard to
set times, but according to his inclination.

M. Delphat, the French Musician, who died 1855, had reached 99; and
in the same year died Robert Linley, the violoncellist, at 83. John
Braham lived far beyond the usual age of singers, namely, to his 82d
year: he died February 17, 1856; he first sung in public when ten
years old. Ludwig Spohr, the German composer, died 1859, at 80.

Some aged persons have literally fallen asleep in death. Sir
Christopher Wren passed his latter years at Hampton Court, and his
townhouse in St. James’s-street. He caught cold, and this hastened
his death. He was in town; he was accustomed to sleep a short time
after dinner; and on February 25, 1723, his servant, thinking his
master had slept longer than usual, went into his room, and found
Wren dead in his chair; he was in his 91st year. James Elmes, who
wrote Wren’s life, died 1862, aged 80.