Bucks Head Hotel Glasgow ... and a family tragedy

The fleeting nature of life in times past is all too apparent from the briefest and yet most poignant entry in the death column of the Carlisle Journal of 22 February 1845. 

This is for a boy who didn't live long enough to make a mark in life but in trying to find out something about him and his parents I found myself following some fascinating links to a Glasgow landmark, a couple of eminent Scots builders and, curiously, a King of Saxony.

This is the entry -

“At Glasgow, on Friday last, Charles, the only son of Mr. McDonald of the Buck's Head Hotel”.

No age is given, but it is very likely this was the “son and heir” proudly announced when he was born the year before (18 June 1844) to a Mrs McDonald at the same hotel.

My first step was to find out about Charles McDonald and the hotel. This advertisement appears in the Carlisle Journal of 8 August 1843.

BUCK'S HEAD HOTEL

61 ARGYLE STREET, GLASGOW

Charles M'Donald respectfully returns thanks to his Friends for the Patronage bestowed on him since he Opened the above Extensive and Commodius HOTEL, and at the same time begs to state that nothing shall be wanting on his part to merit a continuance of Public Esteem.

THE BUCK'S HEAD is situated in the most Central Street in the City, and is in the Vicinity of the various Railway Stations, and Steam Boat Wharfs, for which Conveyances leave the Hotel at the various hours suiting the departure of the Trains and Steamers.

N.B. The House kept open waiting the arrival of the London Mail by Carlisle, and the last Railway Train from Edinburgh, at which terminus a Conveyance will be in attendance.

*** STABLES and LOCK-UP COACH HOUSES are attached to the Premises.

Early hotel images from Glasgow Story

The Hotel was a prime establishment in Glasgow that had existed since the mid 1700s and had long been associated with important events in the history of the city - which can be read about here.

It certainly catered for VIP guests. During July 1844 there were various newspaper reports of it hosting the King of Saxony and of big crowds around the Hotel and of Mr McDonald being seen attending to him in great style.

However, Charles McDonald's early optimism and confidence was short-lived as he, too, was dead within eighteen months, as per another death notice for him in the Carlisle Journal on 22 November 1845 in which it was noted he was “formerly of this city” [Carlislel]. 

No cause of death is given and one has to ask did both he and his baby son die from one of the raging infectious diseases that often afflicted cities like Glasgow during this decade, or were the two deaths unrelated? What happened to his wife? In that connection, I also discovered an intriguing marriage announcement in another newspaper of 18 March 1845 - “At York Place, Stirling, Charles McDonald, merchant of Glasgow, to Christina Bowie, daughter of late Alexander Bowie, Esq. of Stirling”.  Is this the same Charles McDonald?

Only further research well beyond the scope of this posting might answer such questions. An online family tree (see here) about the Bowie family suggests she had died in childbirth but there are conflicting dates on that family tree as to her marriage and death so one can't be sure. Still, the McDonalds were an example of a mid-Victorian tragedy that wasn't that rare – father, possibly mother, and only child all dead within the space of a year.

After McDonald, numerous proprietors came and went. In 1860, a Mrs. Moffat advertised that the hotel had undergone “a complete renovation in every department”, but less than five years later - twenty after Charles McDonald's brief sojourn - the hotel was razed and replaced with a new building designed by the famous architect, Alexander “Greek” Thomson. 

Buck's Head Building remains a major Glasgow landmark today and is a British “A” Grade Listed Building.

More images of the building that stands today from various angles here

YouTube video

Lieutenant E N Kendall ... a man of "talent, enterprize and unwearied zeal" (Sir John Franklin to Kendall's mother)

Moving on to another individual in the obituary column from the Carlisle Journal of 22 February, 1845 (see previous blog entry) this short summary sparked my interest and sent me digging for someone of whom I knew nothing and, as usual, I was astonished at what was to be found -

“On Tuesday week at Southampton, Lieut. E. N. Kendall, marine superintendent of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Company. This promising officer served on several expeditions to the Arctic and Antarctic seas, and accompanied the last expedition of Sir J. Franklin to the Polar Seas, between the years of 1825 and 1827, and was the companion of Dr. Richardson on that branch of the expedition which discovered and delineated the northern coast of America lying between the Mackenzie and Coppermine Rivers.”

This “promising officer” was Edward Nicholas Kendall, born in 1800 into a Cornish naval family and left orphaned with three siblings at the age of six. His life was remarkable, both in the way of exploration and dutiful naval service, yet promotion to higher rank than Lieutenant seemed to have eluded him. One has to wonder why after reading the summary in The Canadian Dictionary of Biography of his achievements. Perhaps he was too humble and not pushy enough on his own account or he fell foul of someone with influence at a critical time in his career. And history is full of people like him.

Cree Wigwams in Summer, 1851, Lieut. E. N. Kendall
McCord Museum, Canada

Members of Ancestry will be able to search for and view Kendall's public family tree showing his numerous descendants, several of whom are in Australia. A family photograph is also posted to the family tree (he looks not unlike his one-time superior Sir John Franklin) also his polar medals and other information about him. (Just enter Edward Nicholas Kendall into www.ancestry.co.uk)

Some of Kendall's paintings, sketches and charts can be found at the Scott PolarInstitute and National Maritime Museum UK.

by Lieut. E.N. Kendall

Another longer obituary in a Southampton newspaper where he was Superintendent for the Peninsular and Orient Steam Navigation (P&O) company describes how his death was unexpected and much regretted in the city and the flags were at half-mast for several days after he died -

“... By his kindness and urbanity of manner to all who approached him, by his indefatigable attention to the duties of his highly important and responsible situation, his officer-like conduct to the gentlemen in the service of his company, by his regard for the interest of the town, his extreme benevolence, and the exercise of all the virtues of private life, he had gained universal respect and esteem, and the announcement of his sudden death was felt universally, as that of a dear and respected friend. ...”

It goes on to say that since the 1820s, Kendall had great zeal for the expansion of “steam communication with our Colonies” and while in his service with P&O had -

“projected a plan for … extending steam navigation to Australia and printed for private circulation a pamphlet describing the proposed route and arrangements – a project which will no doubt be carried out at no very long period hence.”

Sadly, Kendall did not live to see his dream fulfilled.  Although not the first steamship to operate in Australian waters, in 1852  Chusan, built at Miller, Ravenhill & Salkeld, Low Walker Yard, Tyneside, became the first P&O regular steam vessel to Australia.

SS Chusan
State Library of South Australia

More interesting links on Kendall here

Cape Kendall Canada

Internet Archive - Book on earlier Franklin expeditions (includes many references to Kendall and his drawings)

Internet Archive - Reports written by Kendall on New Brunswick.

The “twins” of Waterloo

As more and more old newspapers become accessible online, these have become a treasure-trove for crazy folk like me who love nothing better than delving into the obscure, weird or wonderful stories from the past and then going off to try and find out more about the people involved. Sometimes there is much to be found, other times the trail goes cold.

A group of death notices and obituaries following one upon the other in the Carlisle Journal of 22 February 1845 provide a snapshot of a variety of people who had their 19th century equivalent of “fifteen minutes of fame” and for very different reasons. 

This is the first of them. Normally, this story would be more pertinent to my other blog on women, The History Bucket, but is included here as a complement to the other lives that I will explore in coming months about this group of people from various walks of life who all happened to go off to meet their Maker around the same time in 1845.

Were twins born on the field of Waterloo?

“On the 29^th ult. [January], aged 67 years, Mrs. Letitia Scott, Murray Street, Oldham Road [Manchester]. She was a soldier's wife and gave birth to twins (girls) on the field of Waterloo, both of whom are still living.”

This triggered many questions. Could this be true? What on earth would that experience have been like for a woman - going through what could have been a complicated birth on this most famous of all battlefields? Did this happen at the time of the battle or afterwards?

The female experience of war during this era is notoriously difficult to research, not just because it was never officially documented but like all personal war stories is open to the problems of memory inaccuracy and myth.  A recent book on the topic by Annabel Venning, Following the Drum – The Lives ofArmy Wives and Daughters Past and Present has gone some way to enlightening us, but much of this feminine history is shrouded in mystery and especially as it pertains to the Napoleonic era.

I did glean some information about Letitia Scott, although I knew not to expect much. I surmised that having served in this famous battle, there was bound to be a lot of information available on her husband, via the Waterloo Medal Rolls and other well-documented resources.  Sure enough, I soon determined that he was Corporal William Scott of the 95th (Rifle) Regiment, or Green Jackets – now a popular regiment with re-enactment groups and also in the famous Sharpe novels. I also discovered that his medal came up for auction in 2005 and sold for £3,300 - a sum of money that would have completely beyond all comprehension for William and his family.

As to the Waterloo births, two entries do appear in the Army GRO birth indices for 1815 but they are both for a Mary A. Scott born St. Amand (Waterloo area) - a clerical error which may account for the “twins” story perhaps. 

Further research via family researchers on Ancestry and elsewhere show baptismal details for two girls born two years apart, and before and after the battle date of 15 June 1815.  Mary Ann was born on 23 March 1815 and Margaret 17 July 1817. 

One family tree states that Letitia was born Letitia Borr in Ireland in 1779, but that seems to be all there is on her origins.

Letitia and her husband William appear in the 1841 Census Return, living at 31 Murray Street, Manchester. The conditions in which they lived must have been dire and extremely cramped as there are 13 other individuals listed for this address. William is now a labourer, and both of them are aged 60. There is a son, also William and a labourer, aged 20 and one daughter “Maria” Scott, whose age of 25 would indicate that she is probably Mary Ann. A toddler and a baby are also listed, obviously grandchildren.

We can presume that William and Letitia Scott worked in tough conditions in industrial Manchester as everyone else in that area would have done. William lived to a grand age considering how hard his life would have been in first the army, and then the mills. He died in 1864 aged 85. In the 1861 Census Return, he was shown living with Mary Ann, whose birth is simply noted as “France. British Subject.” Not exactly correct, as in 1815 Waterloo was part of the Netherlands, and is now in Belgium, but that's a minor technicality and should not impact on the romantic notion about her birth that may very well have been much cherished or proudly boasted of in the Scott family. Mary Ann herself died in 1869.

Of what happened to her “twin” sister Margaret, there is nothing. Perhaps she died young or married and just disappeared into the great throng of Manchester mill life.

This caricature from this website for a re-enactment group for 95th Rifles. Note that all the women seem to have twins, or more!

Modern photo of Murray's Mills, Manchester.

Men behind the miraculous pills

There is nothing new in the search for miracle cures for ailments or diseases nor in the number of individuals keen to exploit the vulnerability and desperation of others.

As mass communication grew during the Victorian age there were countless advertisements in newspapers and periodicals for pills, ointments, tonics, and devices for curing everything from gout and gastric upsets to hair loss and even cancer. Despite some attempts to regulate the medicinal trade, quackery abounded. 

Curious about the people who were behind these products, I decided to investigate some of the advertisers in just one column taken at random for the 1880s [The Sporting Times].  I conducted various searches, including the 1881 Census Returns, in an attempt to discover which products appeared to have been made by respectable individuals or companies, and which were spurious. Here is the column:

(1)       The Red Cross Pills 

From the 1881 Census, M. Leon Schouver stated he was born France abt. 1846, occupation Chemist, and wife Norah, born Spain abt. 1852, and they lived in a lodging house at 14 Little Titchfield Street, Marylebone.

Obviously they were transient and no fortune had (as yet) been made from their cure-all. Other residents included a dress-cutter, cheese-monger, upholsterer, tailor and a porter. The couple do not appear again in any later UK census returns, or at least not under that name or variations thereof, although there is a death of a Leon Schouver in West Derby, Lancashire, in 1916.

Curiously, Leon Schouver’s name comes up at the Old Bailey as a witness in a counterfeit case involving a young man using dodgy half-crowns to buy seidlitz powders from a number of chemists around the city. Other than that, it would appear Leon disappeared along with his pills.

(2)       Clarke’s B 41 Pills

The London and Midland Counties Drug Company of Lincoln was a substantial and respected pharmaceutical business and “Clarke’s World-Famed Blood Mixture” had been around for quite a number of years. According to its advertising blurbs and testimonials it cured everything you could think of, including gout, rheumatism, dropsy, ulceration, ringworm, itchy skin eruptions, sluggish and obstructed veins, etc. etc.

Clarke’s B 41 pills became a staple as well, but whether they did you any good is another matter. What was the significance of the 41? The number of ingredients, or the birth year of Clarke perhaps, as the entry in the 1881 Census shows: Francis J. Clarke, Chemist, aged 40, and his wife Betsy Ann, aged 38. They lived at Bracebridge Hall, Lincoln, had four children at home and a staff of seven. They had done all right for themselves. Clarke was four times Mayor of Lincoln but it seems his various potions didn’t benefit him personally as he was dead by age 46. 

The impressive Bracebridge Hall can be read about here and some images of the famous ointment seen here. Also the Aboretum Lion presented by F.J. Clarke to the city of Lincoln.

Clarke’s Blood Mixture Bottles (www.bottledigging.org.uk)

(3)        The Book of Positive Special ...

This is some kind of self-help medical publication. Other more detailed advertisements used a lot of big block letters describing it as a self-cure for both men and women. SIXTY THOUSAND INVALIDS CURED ... FOUR THOUSAND TESTIMONIALS GIVEN … [which means fifty-six thousand individuals didn’t feel it warranted a testimonial]. 

With the aid of this book - written by a retired doctor of course - presumably H. Smith, the same name as the publisher - you can CURE DISEASES PECULIAR TO MEN - CONSTITUTIONAL OR ACQUIRED and FEMALES can cure themselves of their PECULIAR MALADIES WITHOUT THE AID OF A MEDICAL MAN. And so on.

As this booklet is stated to have run to thousands of copies, it is strange that I have been unable to find a single one available for inspection. 

Also, there is nothing to be found on what exactly was the “Protodyne Laboratory”, but there were many other products connected with H. Smith & Co. of 26 Southampton Row, including more miracle pills and ointments. At least in their favour, H. Smith only seems to be charging for the postage and not for the booklet itself, although it probably includes plenty of advice to buy lots of Smith’s Ointment to keep yourself healthy.

Finding the correct doctor with the surname Smith in the Census 1881 is impossible and he is  most probably an invention in any case.

(4)        Nervous and Physical Debility

And what to make of the mysterious J. T. Sewell, Esq. of Brook Villa, Hammersmith? Is he a gentleman prepared to part with his method of curing nervousness just out of the kindness of his heart and for the price of a stamp, or is there more it – a scheme of some kind to suck in customers in a marketing scam 19th Century style? 

He splashed blanket advertisements for about four years in many newspapers, but then abruptly disappeared. Searches for a “Brook Villa” at Hammersmith and with the surname Sewell have no results in the 1881 Census. Although it might be worth noting that both a large prison and a lunatic asylum were in this vicinity.

(5)      Jockeys, pedestrians and athletes

Please see (2) above re Clarke.

(6)       Nevill’s Miraculous Pills

Again, many miraculous cures are promoted by Nevill, the inventor of “Pepsanator”.

No entry exists for a William S. Nevill in Croydon in the 1881 Census, although there are a number of men of the same name in the Surrey area, including a labourer, plasterer and a bricklayer serving time for Her Majesty. 

Could it be this was a sideline for a certain Mr. William Nevill, aged 38, who lived at 150 East Street, Epsom with wife, Bertha, and two children? His occupation is Turf Correspondent (Reporter) - not one that held much respectability but may have equipped him with the capacity for colourful hyperbole when it came to advertising.

Here is a letter written by him to The Sporting Life ten years earlier in relation to his Pepsanator. [There is no convincing match for W.S. Nevill to be found in the 1871 Census for Surrey either.]

If the Pepsanator name was trade-marked as stated, there could be more records to be found in official archives. The wholesalers all seem to be genuine companies (one was a publisher) but the advertisements cease by the end of the 1880s and nothing further can be found on this particular William S. Nevill.

There was an aristocrat with this same name who was involved in various frauds during this period and served time in prison and perhaps our Pepsanator Nevill changed his name as a result or simply moved on to other enterprises. 

For the serious student of this topic, this book on pharmaceutical historical records might be useful. But in a lighter vein, there is more to be discovered at these websites and blogs:

http://www.victorianlondon.org/lee/website.htm

http://thequackdoctor.com/

http://virtualvictorian.blogspot.com.au/2010/03/quack-doctors-and-wondrous-potions.html

An "impression" on a king

The Chubb lock is something that seems to have been around forever and pondering the origin of the trade name, I came across an odd and amusing statement that is mentioned in the official history here on the company website and with slight variation in other places, such as this statement from a website devoted to Wolverhampton:

The Chubb lock supposedly became popular as a result of the interest generated when the Prince Regent accidentally sat on one which still had the key inserted.

"Prinny" would have made an impression on any chair

It is well known that the Prince Regent (George IV) was almost the size of a brick outhouse, but what was he doing sitting on a lock in the first place? What were the circumstances?

The Oxford Dictionary of Biography is prosaic about the story -

The detector lock rapidly became regarded as the best of its kind, and was recommended by the Admiralty, but the popular legend about its success arising as a direct result of the prince regent’s sitting on it during a visit to the docks is unsubstantiated.

Apocryphal perhaps, but more colourful detail can be found in this Australian newspaper article from 1951 in which the origins and history of the Chubb lock since 1818 were told by a descendant, the Hon. George Chubb. The article varies somewhat from other references but tells more about the episode with the Prince Regent.

Not only did it [the lock] defy the lock pickers, but it also told its owner, in some mute fashion, if an attempt had been made to pick it.
At the same time there was an epidemic of thefts of naval stores at Portsmouth.
George III [sic. IV] heard of Charles Chubb’s lock, and summoned him to Portsmouth for a demonstration (the monarch was at the time living aboard the Royal yacht).
Charles Chubb arrived with his lock, was ushered into a cabin, and instructed to await the arrival of the King. He placed his lock on a nearby chair, and started to wander round the cabin, examining the pictures.
While he was occupied in gazing at the seascapes, King George swept into the cabin and sat down right on top of the lock.
‘It’s an old joke in our family that that lock made such an “impression” on him that he granted us a Royal Warrant, which we’ve had ever since,’ said the Hon. George.

The article also tells how Chubb’s fame was sealed by the time of the Great Exhibition of 1851:

One of the great attractions of the exhibition was the Koh-i-noor diamond. It lay winking and glittering in a fabulous sort of birdcage, mounted on a pedestal-safe.
This strange contraption (reported Family Herald on May 31, 1851) ‘protects the Koh-in-noor diamond and two smaller diamonds. At night, on the touch of a spring by the custodian, these precious gems sink into a massive iron box of impregnable strength, prepared by Messrs. Chubb, and fall into a pedestal of solid masonry’.

The diamond cage at the Great Exhibition of 1851

Although the company has evolved and moved beyond locks and keys into security generally, everything else you might want to know about the Chubb family, its business in Wolverhamptom, and its locks in general can be found here:

http://www.chubbarchive.co.uk/

http://www.localhistory.scit.wlv.ac.uk/Museum/locks/gazetteer/chubbs.htm

http://www.wolverhamptonhistory.org.uk/work/industry/lock_making2

The Napoleon of Sweet Scents

A question on early cosmetics on a recent TV quiz show sent me scurrying to find out about Eugene Rimmel, the founder of Rimmel Cosmetics. 

Image NYPL Digital Gallery

As with an earlier blog about Dison's lace, my search took me on various diversions beyond discovering that the first factory-made mascara, hair dyes and mouthwashes were all pioneered by Rimmel in London from the mid-19th Century. 
The Oxford Dictionary of Biography states that he was born in France in 1820 and served as an apprentice under his father (Hyacinthe Mars Rimmel) in London.
At the early age of 14 he established his own shop and laboratory at Gerrard Street, Soho, later moving to 96 Strand. Other branches were at Cornhill and in Regent Street, as well as in Paris. 
His father was declared bankrupt in 1837 and his partnership with his son was later dissolved, although it is not known whether this was amicable or otherwise.
Rimmel also claimed to be the first perfumer in England to use female labour and he eventually held 10 Royal Warrants including that of Queen Victoria.

Rimmel's "Toilet Vinegars" were very popular throughout the Victorian era and he also specialised in gift packs, scented Valentine cards, cushions and other perfumed objects. 
A case of his perfumery was displayed at the 1851 Great Exhibition described in one newspaper ... 

"... at the centre of which is a beautiful little fountain sending forth delicate jets of eau de cologne with which the obliging exhibitor permits ladies to perfume their handkerchiefs". 

The famous French artist Jules Cheret designed for Rimmel

At the 1862 International Exhibition, Rimmel first encountered the pungent essential oils such as Australian eucalyptus and he successfully experimented in using these in toilet soaps and perfumes, although they proved to be a hazard as the Strand premises burned down in May 1875, the fire thought to have started in the huge quantities of these oils and other spirits stored on the premises. 
Rimmel was a great friend of the exiled French author Victor Hugo, often visiting him in his exile in Guernsey, and was fully fluent in English and French as well as various other languages. He translated Shakespeare into French and also wrote the Book of Perfumes and Recollections of the Paris 1867 Exhibition, both of which are profusely illustrated and can be found in various online free book websites.
The "Napoleon of Sweet Scents" as he was known, died in 1887 and his obituary in the Aberdeen Journal had little regard for how he made his money, but focussed almost solely on his altruistic side.

"He was the life and soul of every work which had for its object the amelioration of the condition of the afflicted and the poor."

and

"He was the most modest as well as the most charitable of men. Though decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honour, and with other insignia, he never wore them in public except when it was compulsory, and whenever possible he suppressed the mention of the honour."

He received this Legion of Honour in March 1872 from the President of the French Republic, not for his contribution to commerce or perfumery, but for founding the French (Shaftesbury) Hospital and other work on behalf of French and other foreigners in London. He also founded the Bureau de Bienfaisance (later Société Française de Bienfaisance) in Poland Street. He set up a fund to support the Society of the Professors of French. 
Although he died in London, Eugene Rimmel was buried in his family's vault at Varenne-sur-Seine.  His sons took over the business and the name continues to the present day, although it is now owned by Coty. Read more here.
This vintage Rimmel mascara currently for sale at Etsy.

The Rimmel name and products can be found all around the world.  A couple of bottles said to be Rimmel from city archaelogical excavations can be seen at the Melbourne Museum.
Bottle 1. Bottle 2.


These images of Rimmel cards from the Fotolibra Collection

Before you could say "Herman Boaz!"

Following on from research into forgotten female magicians on my other history blog, I came across several advertisements in late 18th/early 19th century newspapers that sent me scurrying for the dictionary.

Back then you didn't go to just some illusion or magic show, you went to an "Hurlophusicon and Thaumaturgick Exhibition" and were amazed by a self-acting Horologium machine powered by means of an Alhadida and a Cathetus and then had your thoughts transferred by Steganographical or Paligenesia operations not to mention experiencing Pixidees Metallurgy you probably would never forget ...

The perpetrator of these fantastically descriptive shows was one Herman Boaz, also known as Sieur ("sir" in Old French) Boaz and although he performed throughout Britain, he seems to have made Scotland his main base.

The Magicpedia entry on him is disappointing - and with inaccurate dates - and seems to conclude he was "small fry", yet the number of advertisements and articles about his exhibitions and displays in newspapers and magazines from 1777 onward would suggest he was very popular. 

Even late in the 19th Century many years after his death, tales or reminiscences by people who met him or saw his fantastic shows were still being published. 

Some of his more bizarre acts included a hen that laid twenty eggs in a row on a table in front of the audience and the withdrawing from the innards of a hot "roasted jigget of mutton" cards on which ladies in the audience had earlier written their thoughts. One wonders what state the cards would have been in?

An early advertisement, Hackney, London, 1788

Well into the 19th Century he was still at it. Cheap One Shilling seats in 1788 had inflated to Two Shillings by 1804 (about £3.40 in modern money).

Note the weird and wonderful words of the many "curious operations" in this next announcement that also included "Pyrotecknomancy with a Variety of Chartomantic Deceptions" in which will be found much to improve the mind, including a "most useful lesson to youth in against the pernicious and fatal consequences of gaming". What a pity there were no movies in those days, as the mind can only boggle at what it was all about!

From Caledonian Mercury, December 6, 1804

Boaz died in straightened circumstances in Edinburgh in his 84th year in January 1821 as this obituary in Blackwoods Magazine relates ...

... and the following is an advertisement for a benefit on January 19, 1821 to raise funds to help Boaz's widow. 

Note actress Mrs W. Barrymore.  No connection however to those other stage Barrymores, as according to Wikipedia on Maurice, the patriarch of the American family, he "borrowed" the surname - probably from the husband of this same Mrs W. Barrymore.

No images can be found of Herman Boaz but other searches have located a Marriage Bond for his marriage to Elizabeth Killick in Surrey in 1774, also a romantic rebus poem on the city of Bath that he wrote to Craftsman Weekly that same month, and a note of his contribution in 1806 of three guineas towards the erection of a pillar to Lord Nelson at Edinburgh. 

There doesn't seem to be any Mrs Boaz listed in the Scotland's People archive and if he had any other descendants, they have done the usual disappearing act.

Some publications:

• The Angler's Progress, a poem about fishing.
• A book on the art of juggling, published 1826.
• Several references to Boaz in this online book, The Magical Imagination in England.
• A more notorious conjurer rival and contemporary of Boaz was Gustav Katterfelto, the subject of a recent book Katterfelto: The Prince of Puff by David Paton-Williams.

POSTCRIPT!


The second little advertisement attached to this Boaz one from 1801 captured my attention in that it informs me, by permission, Polish Nobleman, Count Boruwlaski, only 3ft 6ins high, 62 years old, is now available to receive company at Mr McRorie's at East Side for only One Shilling. His memoirs in French will cost you another Five bob.  No extra charge for English translation.

After reading his Wikipedia entry and some swift research, I realise I probably walked right past the Count's resting place when visiting Durham Cathedral last year and apparently his little grave can be seen near the main door, marked by a stone only 15 inches square that simply reads "J.B."  


Oh why did I know nothing of you before, dear little Count, you are just one of the reasons why I so love the quirks and serendipitous discoveries while digging in the dust of history.

More on Count Josef Boruwlaksi in Durham here and you can read those five bob memoirs for free at the Internet Archive.