Beggars Banquet

07 17 death of a miser heronimus boschYesterday, I wrote about money and how it is worth nothing until you exchange it for something else. Today, I want to look at some of the people who didn’t get round to spending what they had while they were alive. Writers have long been fascinated by misers. Aesop, writing in the seventh or sixth century BC, tells us a story of a miser who buried his gold. But he came back to look at it every day and someone saw him, dug up the gold and stole it. The miser was distraught at the loss of his wealth. His neighbour consoled him by telling him that he might just as well bury a stone instead, or even just come back each day and look at the empty hole. Because he wasn’t using his gold, it would really be exactly the same thing. Buried gold is as useless as stone or an hole in the ground.

There are loads of examples of misers in literature, in theatre and in art, but there are also plenty of real life hoarders. I’ve mentioned a couple of them over the past year, and I have found that they are not necessarily greedy people, but they are not well people and are often profoundly eccentric. A true miser will live in apparent penury, in detriment to their comfort and their health so, often, their wealth is only discovered posthumously. Some, although they inherited huge sums, were assumed by the casual observer to be beggars. But some of them actually were beggars. Certainly, their accumulated riches were not as vast as those of John Camden Neild or John Elwes but were, nonetheless, remarkable. Robert Chambers, in his entry for July 17th, mentions Mary Wilkinson, who he describes as a ‘beggar and bone grubber’, who had £300 sewn into her ragged clothing. He also mentions Frances Beet who was found to have hidden £800 in her bed and rickety furniture and a character called ‘Poor Joe All Alone’ who had made his living selling matches and ballads and performing magic tricks yet he managed to amass a fortune of £3,000 by the time he died in 1767. Joe left the money he had saved to help support widows and orphans.

Both Robert and I have a particular reason for telling you about rich beggars today, because July 17th is the anniversary of the death of William Stevenson, who died at Kilmarnock in 1817. I have no idea when he was born, possibly some time around 1730. Stevenson was trained as a mason, but spent the greater part of his life begging. Up until his last illness, the only thing we know about him was that he and his wife had separated. They must had hated each other a lot, because they had made an agreement that if one of them ever proposed they got back together, they would pay the other £100. As far as we know, they never saw each other again.

Stevenson fell ill at the age of eighty-five and was confined to bed. His chief concern was that what little money he had scraped together would not last. But it did. When he knew he was close to death, he began to make arrangements for a grand send off. He sent for a baker and ordered twelve dozen funeral cakes and a great quantity of sugar biscuits. He ordered wine and liquor in correspondingly large amounts and said that more of both should be purchased if that proved to be insufficient. Next, he sent for a joiner and ordered himself an expensive coffin. Then the gravedigger, and asked for a roomy grave in a dry and comfortable corner. He told an old lady who had been looking after him where she might find £9 hidden in his home to pay for all the expenses, and assured her that she had been remembered in his will. He died shortly afterwards and, when his room was searched they found a bag of silver pieces, more coins hidden in a heap of old rags and £300 hidden in a trunk. They also found bonds and securities. His fortune amounted to around £900. To the old lady, he left £20, which may not sound like much but, in today’s money, that’s close to £1,800.

William Stevenson lay in state for four days while his distant relatives were gathered to attend his funeral. But it was not a sombre affair. It was a party. Whole families were invited. He was visited by the young and the old, by beggars and poor tradesmen. The older attendees found they had each been left sixpence, the younger ones, threepence. After the burial, everyone repaired to a barn, where most of them got so drunk that they had to be helped home. Some did not make it home at all, but fell asleep on a pile of corn sacks. The only account I could find of William’s funeral was by someone who clearly didn’t approve of it. It uses words like ‘wicked’, ‘careless’ and ‘waste’. It also goes on to say that those who missed the celebrations threatened to dig up his body so that they could give him another send off. They left him where he was, but apparently, the party continued for several weeks. That doesn’t sound like a waste to me. I think when a funeral is such fun that you want to do it all over again – that’s a pretty good funeral.

Not Alone

12 28 peder winstrupToday I want to tell you about Peder Winstrup, bishop of Lund. Peder was born in 1605 in Copenhagen. He was made bishop of Lund in 1638 and was clearly something of a diplomat, as he managed to hang on to his position when Lund moved from Danish to Swedish control in 1658. He was very interested in science, he made studies of animal behaviour and tried to find out if it was true that the cuckoo puts its young in another bird’s nest. Education was important to him and he was instrumental in the founding of the University of Lund which happened in 1666. He died on this day in 1679 and was laid to rest in the cathedral in Lund.

It isn’t really his life I want to tell you about though. In 1833 his burial vault was partially demolished and his body was found to be remarkably well preserved. Well enough for him to be easily recognised from his portraits. His coffin was opened again in 1923 and photographs were taken. Then, in 2012 the cathedral staff decided to move his coffin and by coincidence, at the same time, the archivist at Lund University’s museum was examining a glass plate from the 1923 opening. It was soon realised that the bishop was probably the best preserved 17th century body to be found in any of the Nordic countries. Here was an excellent opportunity to make a scientific study, using modern methods, to find out about life in seventeenth century Sweden and how it was that his body had been so well preserved. It was a time capsule from the year 1679.

His body has been accidentally preserved rather that deliberately mummified and all his internal organs are intact. There are several reasons why his body has dried out naturally. He had been laid on a mattress stuffed with wormwood, juniper berries, lavender and hyssop. His head rests on a pillow filled with hops. The herbs have probably played a role in preserving his body and so have the cold, draughty and dry conditions in the crypt. The fact that he was died and buried in the winter have also helped. Bishop Winstrup’s body was very emaciated at the time of death, suggesting a long illness. So the lack of body fat has also helped prevent decay.

Among the things that have been found out about the bishop are that he probably died of pneumonia, but also suffered from arthritis, gout and a shoulder injury. Missing and rotted teeth indicate a high amount of sugar in his diet, while the presence of gall stones suggest a high consumption of fat. So he lived well.

When the body of Peder Winstrup was put into a CT scanner, in order to build up a three-dimensional picture, a surprising discovery was made. The bishop has not been alone in his coffin. For close to 350 years he has had a companion. Tucked amongst the herbs beneath his feet is the body of a five or six month old foetus. Clearly it has been deliberately hidden there and no one would have known about it except whoever concealed it. Probably it was placed there by a member of the bishop’s staff and it is unlikely that the bishop and the baby are in any way related, but DNA tests may tell us in time. Probably that person was looking for a proper resting place for the child. A stillborn infant or one who died before baptism was not permitted a Christian burial and bereaved parents often resorted to desperate measures. They may have had to hang on to the body for months waiting for the right opportunity to bribe someone to place it in another coffin or to bury it in the church wall. Who better to look after the child than a bishop?

I am not in the habit of filling this blog with pictures of dead bodies, it seems disrespectful, but, as his body is so remarkably well preserved, if you want to see a short video, there is one here. The bishop’s body has now been re-interred. I couldn’t find out for sure whether he still has his companion, but I hope he has.