The works of Mr. John Oldham, together with his Remains

CHARACTER.

NO wonder if I am at a Loss to describe him, whom Nature was as much puzzled to make. 'Tis here as in Painting, where the most mishapen. Figures are the greatest Proofs of Skill. To draw a Thersites or AEsop well, requires the Pencil of Vandike or Titian, more than the best Features and Lineaments. All the Thoughts I can frame of him are as rude and indigested as himself. The very I∣daea and Conception of him are enough to cramp Grammar, to disturb Sence, and confound Syntax. He's a Solecism in the great Construction, therefore the best Description of him is Nonsence, and

the fittest Character to write it in, that Pot-hook-hand the Devil us'd at Ox∣ford in Queens Colledge-Library. He were Topick enough for convincing an Atheist that the World was made by Chance. The first Matter had more of Form and Order, the Chaos more of Symmetry and Proportion. I could call him Nature's By-blow, Miscarri∣age and Abortive, or say, he is her Em∣bryo slink'd before Maturity; but that is stale and flat, and I must fly a higher Pitch to reach his Deformity. He is the ugliest she ever took Pains to make so, and Age to make worse. All the Mon∣sters of Africa lie kennell'd in his single Skin. He's one of the Grotesques of the Universe, whom the grand Artist drew only (as Painters do uncouth ugly Shapes) to fill up the empty Spaces and

Cantons of this▪ great Frame. He's Man anagrammatiz'd: A Mandrake has more of Humane Shape: His Face carries Libel and Lampoon in't. Na∣ture at its Composition wrote Bur∣lesque, and shew'd him how far she could out-do Art in Grimace. I wonder 'tis not hir'd by the Play-houses to draw Antick Vizards by. Without doubt he was made to be laugh'd at, and design'd for the Scaramuchio of Mankind. When I see him, I can no more forbear than at sight of a Zany or Nokes; but am like to run the Risque of the Philoso∣pher, looking on an Ass mumbling Thistles. He's more ill-favour'd than the Picture of Winter drawn by a Fellow that dawbs Sign-Posts, more lowring than the last day of January. I have seen a handsomer Mortal carv'd in Monumen∣tal

Gingerbread, and woven in Hang∣ings at Mortlock. If you have ever view'd that wooden Gentleman that peeps out of a Country Barber's Window, you may fancy some Resemblance of him. His damn'd squeezing Close-stool. Face can be liken'd to nothing better than the Buttocks of an old wrinkled Baboon, straining upon an Hillock. The very Sight of him in a morning would work with one beyond Jalap and Rhubarb. A Doctor (I'm told) once prescrib'd him to one of his Parishioners for a Purge: he wrought the Effect, and gave the Pa∣tient fourteen Stools. 'Tis pity he is not drawn at the City Charges, and hung up in some publick Forica as a Remedy against Costiveness.

Indeed by his Hue you might think he had been employed to that use: One

would take him for the Picture of Scog∣gin or Tarleton on a Privy-house Door, which by long standing there has contract∣ed the Color 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the neighbouring Excre∣ments. Reading lately how Garagantua came into the World at his Mother's Ear, it put an unlucky thought into my Head concerning him: I presently fancied that he was v•…•…ided, not brought forth; that his Dam was deliver'd of him on t'other side, beshit him coming out, and he has ever since retain'd the Stains. His filthy Countenance looks like an old Chimney-piece in a decay'd Inn, sul∣lied with Smoak, and the sprinkling of Ale-pots. 'Tis dirtier than an ancient thumb'd Record, greasier than a Chand∣ler's Shop-book, You'd imagine▪ Snails had crawl'd the Hay upon it. The Case of it is perfect Vellum, and has often

been mistaken for it: A Scrivener was like to cheapen it for making Indentures and Deeds: Besides 'tis as wrinkled as a walking Buskin: It has more Fur∣rows then all Cotswold. You may re∣semble it to a Gammon of Bacon with the Swerd off. I believe the Devil tra∣vels over it in his Sleep with Hob-nails in his Shoes. By the Maggot-eaten Sur-face, you'd swear he had been dug out of his Grave agen with all his Worms about him to bait Eel-hooks. But enough of it in General, I think it time to descend to Particulars; I wish I could divide his Face, as he does his Text, i. e. tear it asunder: 'Tis fit I▪ begin with the most remarkable part of it. His Mouth (saving your presence Chri∣stian Readers) is like the Devils Arse of Peak, and is just as large. By the

Scent you'd take it for the Hole of a Pri∣vy: He may be winded by a good Nose at twelve-score; I durst have ventur'd at first being in Company that he dieted on Assa-foetida. His very Discourse stinks in a Literal Sence; 'tis breaking-Wind, and you'd think he talk'd at the other End. Last New-years-day he tainted a Loin of Veal with saying Grace: All the Guests were fain to use the Fanatical Posture in their own Defence, and stand with their Caps o∣ver their Eyes like Malefactors going to be turn'd off. That too that renders it the more unsupportable is that it can't be stopp'd: The Breach is too big ever to be clos'd. Were he a Milliner, he might measure Ribbon by it without the help of his Yard or Counter. It reaches so far backwards, those, that have seen him

with his Peruke off, say it may be discer∣ned behind. When he gapes, 'twould stretch the Dutchess of Cl to straddle over: I had almost said, 'tis as wide as from Dover to Calice. Could he shut it, the Wrinkles round about would represent the Form of the Sea∣mens Compass, and should he bluster; 'twere a pretty Emblem of those swelling Mouths, at the Corners of Maps puf∣fing out Storms. When he Smoaks, I am always thinking of Mongibel and its Eruptions. His Head looks exactly like a Device on a Kitchin Chimney; His Mouth the Vent and his Nose the Fane. And now I talk of his Snout, I dare not mention the Elephants for fear of speaking too little: I'd make bold with the old Wit, and compare it to the Gnomon of a Dial; but that he has

not Teeth enough to stand for the twelve Hours. 'Tis so long, that when he rides a Journey, he makes use of it to open Gates. He's fain to snite it with both Hands. It cannot be wip'd under as much as the Royal Breech. A Man of ordinary Bulk might find Shelter un∣der its Eves, were it not for the Drop∣pings. One protested to me in Raillery that when he looks against the Sun, it shadows his whole Body, as some story of the Sciopodes Feet. Another Hy∣perbolical Rascal would make me be∣lieve that the Arches of it are as large as any two of London-Bridge, or the great Rialto at Venice. Not long ago I met a one-leg'd Tarpawlin that had been begging at his Door, but could get nothing: The witty Whoreson (I re∣member) swore that his Bow-sprit

was as long as that of the Royal Sove∣reign. I confess, stood he in my way: I durst not venture round by his Foreside, for fear of going half a mile about. 'Tis perfec•…•… doubling the Cape: He has this Priviledge for being unmannerly that it will not suffer him to put off his Hat: And therefore ('tis said) at home he has a Cord fasten'd to it, and draws it off with a Pully, and so receives the Addresses of those that visit him. This I'm very confident, he has not heard himself sneeze these seven Years: And that leads me to his Tools of Hearing: His Ears resemble these of a Countrey Justices Black Jack, and are of the same matter, hue, and size: He's as well hung as any Hound in the Countrey; but by their Bulk and growing upward, he deserves to be rank'd with a graver

of Beasts: His single self might have shown with Smeck, and all the Club Divines. You may pare enough from the sides of his Head to have furnisht a whole Regiment of Round-Heads: He wears more there then all the Pillo∣ries in England ever have done. Man-devile tells us of a People somewhere, that use their Ears for Cushions: He has reduced the Legend to Probability: A Servant of his (that could not conceal the Midas) told me lately in private, that going to Bed he binds them on his Crown, and they serve him instead of Quilt Night-caps. The next observa∣ble that falls under my Consideration is his Back: Nor need I go far out of my way to meet it, for it peeps over his Shoulders: He was built with a But∣tress to support the weight of his Nose;

and help ballance it. Nature hung on him a Knapsack, and made him repre∣sent both Tinker and Budget too. He looks like the Visible Tye of AEneas bol∣string up his Father, or like a Beggar-Woman, endorst with her whole Lit∣ter, and with Child behind. You may take him for Anti-Christopher with the Devil at his Back. I believe the At∣las in Wadham-Garden at Oxford was carv'd by him. Certainly he was begot in a Cupping-Glass: His Mo∣ther longed for Pumpions, or went to see some Camel shown while she was conceiving him. One would think a Mole has crept into his Carcase be∣fore 'tis layd in the Church-Yard, and Rooted in it, or that an Earthquake had disorder'd the Symmetry of the Mi∣crocosm, sunk one Mountain and put

up another. And now I should descend lower, if I durst venture: But I'll not defile my Pen: My Ink is too cleanly for a farther Description. I must beg my Reader's Distance: as if I were going to Untruss. Should I mention what is beneath, the very Jakes would suffer by the Comparison, and 'twere enough to bring a Bog-house in Disgrace. Indeed he ought to have been drawn, like the good People on the Parliament-House, only from the Shoulders upwards. To me 'tis a greater Prodigy then himself, how his Soul has so long endured so na∣sty a Lodging. Were there such a thing as a Metempsychosis, how gladly would it exchange its Carcase for that of the worst and vilest Brute: I'm suf∣ficiently perswaded against the whim of Praeexistence; for any thing that had

the Pretense of Reason would never have entered such a Durance of Choice: Doubtless it must have been guilty of some unbeard of Sin, for which Hea∣ven dooms it Penance in the present Body, and ordains it its first Hell here. And 'tis disputable which may prove the worst, for 't has suffered half an Eternity already. Men can hardly tell which of the two will out-live the other. By his Face you'd guess him one of the Pa∣triarchs, and that he liv'd before the Flood: His Head looks as if't had worn out three or four Bodies, and were Legacied to him by his Great-Grand-father. His Age is out of Knowledg, I believe he was born be∣fore Registers were invented. He should have been a Ghost in Queen Mary's Days. I wonder Holingshead does not

speak of him. Every Limb about him is Chronicle: Par and John of the Times were short-Livers to him. They say, he can remember when Pauls was Founded, and London-Bridge built. I my self have heard him tell all the Stories of York and Lancaster upon his own Knowledge. His very Cane and Spe∣ctacles are enough to set up an Antiqua∣ry. The first was the Walking-staff of Lanfranc Arch-bishop of Canterbury which is to he seen by-his Arms upon the Head of it: The t'other belong'd to the Chaplain of William the Conqueror; was of Norman make, and travell'd o∣ver with him. 'Tis strange the late Author of M. Fickle forgot to make his Sir Arthur Oldlove swear by them, the Oath had been of as good Antiqui∣ty as St. Austin's Night-Cap, or

Mahomet's Threshold. I have often wonder'd he never set up for a Conju∣rer: His very Look would bring him in Vogue, draw Custom, and undo Lilly and Gadbury. You'd take him for the Ghost of Old Haly or Albuma∣zar, or the Spirit Frier in the Fortune Book, his Head for the inchanted bra∣zen one of Frier Bacon. 'Twould pose a good Physiognomist to give Names to the Lines in his Face. I've observ'd all the Figures and Diagrams in Agrippa and Ptolomy's Centiloquies there upon strict view. And t'other day a Linguist of my Acquaintance shew'd me all the Arabick Alphabet betwixt his Brow and Chin. Some have admired how he came to be admitted into Orders, since his very Face is against the Canon: I guess he pleaded the Qualicfiation of the Pro∣phets

of Old, to be withered, Tooth∣less and deform'd. He can pretend to be an Elisha only by his Baldness. The Devils Oracles heretofore were utter'd from such a Mouth. 'Twas then the Candidates for the Tripus were fain to plead Wrinkles and Grey Hairs; a Splay Mouth, and a goggle Eye were the cheapest Simony, and the ugly and crippled were the only men of Prefer∣ment. And this leads me to consider him a little in the Pulpit. And there 'tis hard to distinguish whether that or his Skin be the coarser Wainscoat: He re∣presents a Crackt Weather-Glass in a Frame. You'd take him by his Looks and Posture for Muggleton doing Pennance and paulted with rotten Eggs. Had his Hearers the trick of Writing short-Hand, I should fancy him an Of∣fender

upon a Sca•…•…old, and them Pen∣ning his Confession. Not a fluxt De∣bauch in a sweating Tub makes worse Faces. He makes Doctrine as Folks do their Water in the Stone or Stran∣gury. Balaams Ass was a better Di∣vine, and had a better Delivery. The Thorn at Glastenbury had more Sence and Religion, and would make more Converts. He speaks not, but grunts, like one of the Gadaren Hogs after the Devils enter'd. When I came first to his Church and saw him perch'd on high against a Pillar, I took him by his ga∣ping for some Juggler going to swallow Bibles aud Hour-Glasses. But I was soon convinc'd that other Feats were to be play'd, and on a sudden lost all my Sences in Noise. A Drunken Hunts∣man reeling in while he was at Prayer,

ask'd if he were giving his Parishoners a Hollow: He has preached half his Parish deaf: His Din is beyond the Catadupi of Nile. All his Patrons Pigeons, are frighted from their Apart∣ment, and he's generally believed the Occasion. He may be heard father then Sir Samuel Moorlands Flagelet. Nay one damn'd mad Rogue swore: Should he take a Text concerning the Resurrection, he might serve for the last Trumpet. And yet in one Respect he's fitted for the Function. His Coun∣tenance, if not Doctrine can scare men into Repentance, like an Apparition: Should he walk after he's dead, he would not be more dreadful, then now while he is alive.

A Maid meeting him in the Dark in a Church-Yard, was frighted into

Phanaticism. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is in Bedlam upon the same Occasio•…•… I dare not ap∣proach him without 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Exorcism. In the Name, &c. is the fittest Salutati∣on: Some have thought the Parsonage House haunted since he dwelt there. In York-shire ('tis reported) they make use of his Name instead of Raw-Head and Bloody-bones to fright Children. He is more terrible then those Phantoms Country Folks tell of by the Fire side, and pretend to have seen, with Leathern-wings, Cloven-feet, and Sawcer-eyes: If he go to Hell (as 'tis almost an Arti∣cle of my Creed, he will) the Devils will quake for all their warm Dwelling, and crowd up into a Nook for fear of him.

FINIS.