size. His countenance had not the appearance
of an idiot's, nor was there anything particular
in his form, except that two of the fingers of
his left hand were united by a web up to the
middle joint. He had a natural ear for music,
and was so delighted with it that, if he heard
any musical instrument played, he would
immediately dance and caper about until he was
exhausted with fatigue, and though he could
never be taught the distinct utterance of any
word, yet he could easily learn to hum a tune.

Whatever he might have been when first caught
by King George and his two sultanas, "the
Maypole and the Elephant," Peter, in the quiet
farm in Hertfordshire, neither went on all fours
in preference to ordinary pedestrianism, nor did
he live in trees. He was, on the contrary,
excessively timid and gentle, and could be ruled
by a child. He was in no way vicious.
Before the approach of bad weather he always
appeared sullen and uneasy. At particular
seasons of the year he showed a strong fondness
for stealing away into the woods, where he would
feed eagerly upon leaves, beech-mast, acorns,
and the green bark of trees. His keeper at such
times generally kept a strict eye over him, and
sometimes even confined him, because if he
rambled to any distance from his home he
could not find his way back again; once in
particular, having gone beyond his knowledge,
he wandered as far as Norfolk, where he was
taken up, and, being carried before a magistrate,
was committed to the house of correction
in Norwich, and punished as a vagrant, who
would not—indeed, he could not—give any
account of himself.

During his detention the bridewell building
caught fire, and poor Peter all but perished.
He seemed to have no sense of danger, and could
not be drawn away from staring and wondering
at the fire. Mr. Fenn having advertised him
in the public papers, he was released and
brought back to his usual place of abode.

On January 7, 1767, Peter was brought to
court, like Caliban, to be seen by the royal family.

Peter, who had the honour of being under
the care of Swift's friend, the learned and
excellent Arbuthnot, had also the honour of being
made the subject of a philosophical essay by the
eccentric Lord Monboddo, that old Scotch
nobleman, who fervently believed that all men
were born with tails, but that the nurses slyly
pinched them off to conceal our relationship to
the monkey. He says: "It was in the beginning
of June, 1782, that I saw him in a farm-
house called Broadway, within about a mile of
Berkhampstead, kept there upon a pension
which the king pays. He is but low of stature,
not exceeding five feet three inches, and,
although he must now be about seventy years of
age, has a fresh healthy look. He wears his
beard. His face is not at all ugly or disagreeable,
and he has a look which may be called
sensible and sagacious for a savage. About
twenty years ago he was in use to elope and
be missing for several days, but of late he has
been quite tame, rather keeps in the house or
saunters about the farm. He has been the
last thirteen years where he lives at present,
and before that he was twelve years with
another farmer, whom I saw and conversed with.
This farmer told me that he had been put to
school in Hertfordshire, but had only learnt to
articulate his own name, Peter, and the name
of King George, both which I heard him
pronounce very distinctly. But the woman of the
house where he now is told me that he understood
everything that was said to him concerning
the common affairs of life, and I saw that
he readily understood several things that were
said to him while I was present. Among
other things, she desired him to sing Nancy
Dawson, which he did, and another tune which
she named. He never was mischievous, but
had all that gentleness of nature which I hold
to be characteristic of our nature, at least till
we become carnivorous and hunters or warriors.
He feeds at present as the farmer and his wife
do; but, as I was told by an old woman (one
Mrs. Collop, living at a village in the
neighbourhood called Hempstead, who remembers to
have seen him when he first came to Hertfordshire,
which she computed to be fifty-five years
before the time I saw her), he then fed very
much upon leaves, and particularly upon the
leaves of cabbage, which he ate raw. He was
then, as she thought, about fifteen years of age,
walked upright, but could climb trees like a
squirrel. At present he not only eats flesh, but
has also got the taste of beer, and even of
spirits, of which he inclines to drink more than
he can get. And the old farmer above
mentioned, with whom he lived twelve years before
he came to this last farmer, told me that he
had acquired that taste before he came to him,
which is about five-and-twenty years ago. He
has also become very fond of fire, but has not
yet acquired a liking for money, for, though he
takes it, he does not keep it, but gives it to
his landlord or landlady, which, I suppose, is a
lesson that they have taught him. He retains
so much of his natural instinct, that he has a
fore-feeling of bad weather, growling, and howling,
and showing great disorder before it comes."

Lord Monboddo had strong opinions, like
Rousseau, of the savage being the perfect man,
and their life being happier than ours. Dr.
Johnson, who visited the eccentric man when
in Scotland, ridiculed this theory to Boswell.

"No, sir," he said, "the savages have no
bodily advantages beyond those of civilised men.
They have not better health; and as to care or
mental uneasiness, they are not above it, but
below it, like bears. No, sir, you are not to
talk such paradox; let me have no more on't."

Poor Peter died in 1785, and was buried
opposite the porch of Northchurch church. A
brass plate was put up to his memory inside
the building, at the expense of the Treasury.
On the top of the plate is a sketch of the head
of Peter, drawn from a very good engraving of
Bartollozzi, and underneath it an inscription
giving his history in little.

A wild boy, about eleven or twelve years of