Thomas Amory (c. 1691–1788), an eccentric author of Irish descent, who was living in Westminster about 1757, seldom stirred out till dark, and was doubtless somewhat insane. His chief works are: “Lives of Several Ladies of Great Britain: A History of Antiquities, Productions of Nature,” &c. (1755); and the “Life of John Buncle” (1756–66)—an odd combination of autobiography, fantastic descriptions of scenery, deistical theology, and sentimental rhapsody.

Personal

  If the writings of Thomas Amory were at times suggestive of a disturbed brain, the singular habits of his life supported that impression. For, although he had the appearance, manners, honourable conduct of a gentleman, he led a most secluded and bat-like existence, shunning all company, and never stirring abroad until the fall of the evening, when he would wander in the streets in abstract meditation, possessed of nothing in common with those who surged around him…. A noteworthy feature in Amory’s case is that, although he led a life apart from the human family generally, he was not a morose man, nor in any degree a misanthrope; on the contrary, as far as his writings reveal his true character, he was keenly alive to the pleasures of society, love, and friendship. He intensely enjoyed the beauties of nature, and was not in the least indifferent to what are termed the good gifts of Providence; he was full of sympathy and kindly feeling for others, goodwill to man being an essential article of his creed.

  If this is not a person of whom we would like to know more, I know not what the romance of biography is. Thomas Amory’s life must have been a streak of crimson on the grey surface of the eighteenth century. It is really a misfortune that the red is almost all washed off.

Life of John Buncle, 1756–66

  John Buncle is the English Rabelais…. The soul of Francis Rabelais passed into John Amory, the author of the “Life and Adventures of John Buncle.” Both were physicians, and enemies of too much gravity. Their great business was to enjoy life. Rabelais indulges his spirit of sensuality in wine, in dried meat-tongues, in Bologna sausages, in botorgas. John Buncle shows the same symptoms of inordinate satisfaction in tea and bread-and-butter. While Rabelais roared with Friar John and the monks, John Buncle gossiped with the ladies.

  The “Life of John Buncle, Esq.; containing various Observations and Reflections made in several parts of the World, and many Extraordinary Relations,” is a book unlike any other in the language, perhaps in the world; and the introduction of passages from it into the present volume must be considered as being, like itself, an exception to rules; for it will resemble rather a notice in a review, than our selections in general. John’s Life is not a classic; it contains no passage which is a general favourite; no extract could be made from it of any length, to which readers of good taste would not find objections. Yet there is so curious an interest in all its absurdities; its jumble of the gayest and gravest considerations is so founded in the actual state of things; it draws now and then such excellent portraits of life; and above all, its animal spirits are at once so excessive and so real, that we defy the best readers not to be entertained with it, and having had one or two specimens, not to desire more. Buncle would say, that there is “cut and come again” in him, like one of his luncheons of cold beef and a foaming tankard.

  In the “Life of John Buncle” and his seven wives, Amory discusses the subject of earthquakes, phlogiston, then a popular theme, fluxions, the Asthanasian Creed, and muscular motion. The whole is such a farrago as Burton or Rabelais might have collected, with something of the odd thoughts and quaint humour that distinguish those writers. One object of both books is to illustrate the truth and the influence of Unitarian principles of religion. The ladies he visits and the ladies he won are all represented as models of beauty and intelligence, who largely owe their high qualities to their religious faith.

  A great part of the work is devoted to the theological disquisition, showing considerable reading, in defence of “Christian deism.” Much of his love-making and religious discussion takes place in the north of England, and there is some interest in his references to the beauty of the lake scenery. His impassable crags, fathomless lakes, and secluded valleys, containing imaginary convents of unitarian monks and nuns, suggest the light-headed ramblings of delirium. Amory was clearly disordered in his intellect, though a writer in the “Retrospective Review” is scandalised at the imputation and admires him without qualification.

  Hazlitt has said that “the soul of Rabelais passed into John Amory.” His name was Thomas, not John, and there is very little that is Rabelaisian in his spirit. One sees what Hazlitt meant—the voluble and diffuse learning, the desultory thread of narration, the mixture of religion and animalism. But the resemblance is very superficial, and the parallel too complimentary to Amory. It is difficult to think of the soul of Rabelais in connection with a pedantic and uxorious Unitarian. To lovers of odd books, “John Buncle” will always have a genuine attraction. Its learning would have dazzled Dr. Primrose, and is put on in glittering spars and shells, like the ornaments of the many grottoes that it describes. It is diversified by descriptions of natural scenery, which are often exceedingly felicitous and original, and it is quickened by the human warmth and flush of the love passages, which, with all their quaintness, are extremely human. It is essentially a “healthy” book, as Charles Lamb, with such a startling result, assured the Scotchman…. The style of the book is very careless and irregular, but rises in its best pages to an admirable picturesqueness.

  The book, which is entirely sui generis, fascinated Hazlitt, and has been reprinted, but never widely read.

General

  His works may be said to be unknown to the general reader; they are familiar to those only who delight to wander in the bye-paths of literature, and to seek out the peculiarities and follies of authors. Amory’s claims are sufficient, however, to entitle him to a little nook in this gallery of those who have a higher right to be remembered than the mere fact of extraordinary tenure of life confers. As he attained to his ninety-seventh year, and gave to the world several volumes marked by some literary ability, originality of thought, extensive knowledge of theology, and close observation of nature, he has the double qualification demanded of those whose lives are here sketched.