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David George Goyder

My Battle for Life

The Autobiography of a Phrenologist

Editorial method: For the purposes of this limited transcription of Goyder's book, I have limited myself to those sections in which he writes about his life. I have excluded those sections where he goes into considerable detail of either religion or phrenology. John van Wyhe has digitised the phrenological pages which occasionally overlap with those given here. Those sections where I have omitted pages are indicated by "..." between paragraphs.

As far as possible, I have transcribed as printed. Goyder's (or his publisher's) spelling of words ending conventionally in modern English with "our" is in what is now thought of the American style. So he writes "neighbor", "honor", etc. Capitalisation and punctuation are Goyder's.

Angel Court, Westminster, from Horwood's map of 1799, showing the location of places mentioned by Goyder.

Click on the map for a full-size version.

FIRST PERIOD:
FROM BIRTH TILL NINE YEARS OF AGE.
1796 TO 1805

Near to the then most aristocratic street in the city of Westminster (termed Great George Street), there stood, sixty years since, built in the form of a cross, and used in the good old days of Catholicism as a residence for many of the "holy monks and friars," whose duty lay so frequently at the noble Abbey Church dedicated to St. Peter. Angel Court, 1799 This court terminated at one end in a narrow lane, opening again into a broad space and termed respectively the "Narrow" and "Broad Sanctuary," used, as the name imports as a refuge for those whose crime or misfortunes drove them into the security and protection of "Holy Mother Church"; and which, at the time I speak of, was the resort of many individuals not of the most estimable character, but who here seemed still to congregate, though the freedom from arrest had long since been abolished The other end of the court terminated in Princes Street, which still exists and bears its original name, though the court and the sanctuaries have long since been rased to the ground, and numbered among the things that were.

The termination of the court in Princes Street was nearly opposite to another court, handsomely paved, named Princes Court, 1799 Princes Court, in which were wont to reside, during the Parliamentary Session, many of the country members. This court led in to St. James's Park, towards that part termed Bird-Cage Walk, and in which, at that time, there was going on one uninterrupted drill of recruits. At the corner of Prince's Court was a large Hotel, or Story's Gate Tavern, as it was and is still called, and was the resort of many of the gentlemen members before alluded to, and was besides frequented by some of the most eminent men of the last century and the beginning of the present.

Directly opposite the Abbey Church, which was situated in front of the Broad Sanctuary before mentioned, there stood, and still stands, a very busy, a very dirty, very crowded, and very vile street, called Tothill Street; and more than it deserves, for it is, in truth, the superlative of wickedness; but as I shall have occasion again to speak about this street, and its purlieus, I shall pass over it now by merely naming it.

In the court before mentioned, and which rejoiced in the name of "Angel's Court," probably on account of the angels who were supposed to be on visiting terms with the "holy monks and friars" who inhabited it,——I was born on the—————. But, stop ! there is a dispute about the day of my birth, which has never been settled; and as I have no recollection of the precise time myself, I am apprehensive that this important event will always remain in doubt. I was born, then, in the year 1796. There was, so I have been informed, no small stir and commotion in the house at the time, but, whether just before midnight, or just after it, has never been accurately settled. Some contend that it was just before; and if that is the truth, on the 29th of February, 1852, I saw my fifteenth birthday, a ripe young, with sons and daughters who have seen more birthdays, and, consequently, are older than myself. But some content that my birthday was after midnight; that I was ushered into the world on the day of the patron saint of Wales, David; that I had brought my name with me, and David was accordingly named; consequently, that I was born on the 1st of March, 1796, and, therefore, I am now in my sixtieth year; and so my sons and daughters will not have seen more birthdays than myself.

I think it will be advisable for me to settle this matter summarily, and say, I was born March 1st 1796, in the aforesaid Angel's Court. What passed from this time until I was nearly three years of age, I cannot precisely remember—perhaps those who had the charge of me were ignorant of its existence, or perhaps it had not developed itself; yet, as long as I can recollect, I have always been celebrated for possessing a good memory. At all events, at or about the age of three years, a circumstance occurred of which I have the most perfect recollection—it was the death of my father. I knew not the loss I had sustained, and I perhaps should not have remembered this event but for the pageant associated with it. My father belonged to the "Independent Order of Odd Fellows," an "order" which at that time enrolled among its members some of the gayest young men of the aristocracy; and I have since been told that some of my relations have sat in the same lodge with the then Prince of Wales (late George IV). My father was high in favor [sic] among this fraternity, and his remains were honoured by a public funeral; and it was this pageant that so forcibly impressed upon my memory my father's death. I saw the whole procession from the window of a neighbor's [sic] house in the Court, to which I had been removed, I suppose, to be out of the way. The coffin was preceded by two brothers, as they were called, bearing drawn swords; then followed a long procession, some before, some after the coffin, with sashes, aprons, and medals of distinction, some of them sparkling with gems, or, as is most probably, with Bristol stones. I thought it a very grand sight, but I have since had my thoughts changed materially. However, this is the first public event which I remember, and the vent left me an orphan, and my mother burdened with a heavy family of sons, of whom I was the youngest.

I think the next public event that impressed me was the Peace [of Amiens, signed 27th March, between Britain and France] of 1802, and I remember it on account of the firing of the park guns, and the general illumination, much demonstrations of joy were then made in colored [sic] glass lamps at the public offices, and in small tallow candles from the windows of private houses! I remember my mother's house was illuminated in the latter way; and as I rambled up and down the court, I was marvellously pleased with the display of candles in the neighbors' [sic] homes. But over the door of the Story's Gate Tavern, the regal star, and the royal initials of "G. R.," struck me as inconceivably grand. This grandeur, however, sunk into insignificance by a view of the devices at the Horse Guards and Admiralty. But grand as all this appeared to me, at the period of which I write, and grand as it undoubtedly was to the old people then living, to such as now behold the blaze of light in the splendid shops of our large cities, it would, could they have seen and compared it, have proved a very paltry affair indeed. Still it is deserving of note, if it be but to show the progress we have made in lighting up large towns, by the knowledge of chemistry.

How long this Peace lasted, and upon what a hollow foundation it was based, may be learned from the history of the times [ambassodors were withdrawn from Calais and Dover on 17th May 1803, and the war lasted a further eleven years]. But when it ceased, it introduced military mania, which has never since, I think, had a parallel in Britain. The first threatened invasion of Napoleon, the great colossus of war, at the commencement of the present century, appeared to call upon all men—aye, and upon all boys, too—to arm. Nor were the women-kind at all lukewarm in this destructive furore; such an embroidering of standards by the quality dames of the land, and such a making of regimentals among the humbler class, was, perhaps, never known. Then almost every trade had its company of volunteers, who made a wonderful display of red coats, plumed helmets, and pipe-clay belts, with little drummers and fifers in Grenadier caps almost as large as themselves, and bending beneath the united weight of caps, belts, swords, and drums, looking very fierce, and being the envy and admiration of all the little boys that followed them. And what could the little boys do but imitate the boys of larger growth?

Accordingly, there sprung up innumerable ragged regiments of boys, armed with wooden swords, having splendid bands of old tin kettles and penny whistles, "marching to the battle-field," with old blood-red pocket handkerchiefs tied on the heads of long sticks, which, being shaken out to the breeze, having previously seen good service by the accommodation that had been rendered to their fathers' and mothers' noses, were so well riddled into holes, as to convey an idea of the hard fought fields they had seen, and the honorable scars they had acquired in the battle of the noses. Ah! the boys were valiant then, and fierce as well as valiant! It was well the French thought better than to invade; for had they at that period arrived in Britain, the very infants would have made mincemeat of them.

But to the men this military mania was no child's play. By sea as well as by land, nothing was thought of but reducing the population by violent means. Pressgangs were rife in Westminster, and my poor mother trembled lest I should be sized and made a powder monkey of; and, truly, numbers of children were kidnapped and conveyed on board ship for this barbarous purpose. This may be denied, but it is a fact nevertheless. But pressing for sea was carried on principally in the neighborhood [sic] of Wapping, the London Docks, and other resorts for seamen; it was recruiting that principally distinguished the neighborhood of Westminster. Children were constantly taken from their parents, and with the consent of parents, too, to become drum boys; and often have I wished that I could play the fife, and had long hair, that, I might go and offer myself for the band. In short, there was one universal school of soldiers; war was in every one's mouth; and while an Englishman made nothing of killing peaceably—that is, by words—his three, or even seven Frenchman, he was a poor creature of a boy who did not think himself a match for two. I well remember the warlike frenzy that everywhere prevailed, and Government, by its agents quietly fanned the flame, and secretly heaped on fuel to keep the fire burning. Warlike and patriotic songs were sung in all public thoroughfares, in which young men were stimulated to enter the army, and, rather than become the slaves of the French, die in the field of glory. They were taught to think a victory over the French cheaply bought with life.

Many and curious were the means resorted to by Government to induce young men to enlist—some of them not of the most creditable kind—and, once enlisted, it was difficult indeed to purchase off the recruit, even at the most extravagant price. But there seemed nothing more effectual than the composition of songs to keep this fire of frenzy alive. These songs were set to martial music, but so adapted to the taste of the multitude, as to be the finest specimens of doggrel that can well be conceived. Military music I have always had a passion for, nor have I list my zest for it up to the present day; but now that experience has from history pointed out the horrors of war, I must say that I hate everything connected with it except its music.

When a young man was enlisted, he was immediately turned over to the tender mercies of the corporal or drill sergeant. He was training by incessant drilling, and when qualified, drafted off, marched to the nearest depôt, shipped, and perhaps never heard of more. Hour after hour have I attended these parties at drill, and watched all their motions, and sighed and wished that I was old enough to take my place among them; and I do believe that the watching of men at drill tended to foster that combative feeling of which in youth I had no inconsiderable share.

My memory turns back upon this period with wonderful freshness; and the military preparations in Bird-Cage Walk, St. James's Park, are still fresh in my recollection. The constant work of drilling drew together whole armies of boys to witness and to admire, as well as to lament they were not of age to join the army of heroes. At this time it was a sine qua non for the army to wear long hair—ques, or pig-tails, as they were called—and as it was then fashionable to wear hair powder, something as nearly as could possibly resemble it was introduced into the army. Hair powder being too expensive for the common soldiery, they had their heard first well plastered with soap, and then a flour bag was shaken over the head, and the flour adhering to the soap, presented a well whitened crop of hair. The soldiers then wore curious long coats, and huge cocked hats; and on state occasions they rejoiced in long white jean gaiters, buttoned with numerous bone buttons, dyed black; and gartered below the knee with a highly polished black leather strap, the gaiter itself being continued half way up the thigh, where it was tightly buttoned. "Bird-Cage Walk," so called because originally there were cages of an aviary among the trees which bordered it, and which led towards the before-mentioned Story's Gate, was the great field of drill, sometimes (as a punishment) afterwards, the work of preparing men as food for gunpowder was carried on. Marches and counter-marches, advancing and retreating, and mimic fighting, accompanied by a huge consumption of bone drivers, showed how often the triggers had been drawn, and the bone drivers, which were shaped like flints, snapped by the repeated collision of the steel of the musket. In those days percussion caps were unknown, and the musket, when really used in its murderous work, was fired by the spark of a flint falling into the pan of the musket, which contained a priming of powder, communicating with the barrel, and so driving its missile of destruction.

There nothing heard of but war — war — war! As before hinted, all songs composed for the common people had a martial bearing; many, perhaps most of them, were doggrel in versification, but the music to which they were set was enspiriting in the highest degree; and even those who had been basely inveigled into the ranks of the army (and there were many such) caught enthusiasm from the enspiriting strains; and from the words being well adapted to the calibre of their understandings, and which made greatness of soul to consist in being able to destroy the greatest number of human beings, they soon became contented with their lot, and went to the field of glory in hope of returning captains at least.