Jim Stillman
NevarLord Timothy Dexter, a Genius, an Eccentric of just simply Nutty as a Fruitcake?
October 16th 2007 16:08
I grew up in Haverhill, Massachusetts, a city about 40 miles north of Boston, just across the New Hampshire border. My paternal grandparents lived in Newburyport and, as a child. I went to that city with my father to visit. One day, I remember, my father drove along High Street and pointed out a huge strange looking mansion, the yard surrounded by a white fence. The building itself had a cupola and the most unusual and unique architecture that could be imagined. As I look back on the memories, I am reminded of the buildings of Oz in the 1939 MGM motion picture.
My father said that this mansion was one of the legacies of Lord Timothy Dexter, a man who became enormously wealthy as result of genius or luck or some sort of perverse fate.
Lord Timothy Dexter
My father said that, at one time, the grounds of the estate were full of statutes of famous men: tall columns on which were placed huge images of Jefferson, Adams, and others, carved in wood, Washington occupying the place of honor on a Roman arch that stood in front of the door. My Dad told me that Dexter continually changed the names of his great men, and the General of yesterday might become the Bonaparte of today or the Nelson of tomorrow. Dexter placed himself among the great whom he chose to honor, and labeled his "I am the first in the East, the first in the West, and the greatest philosopher in the Western World."
Dexter's home, 1800
It has now been sixty years since that drive-by and I remain intrigued by the life and saga of Lord Timothy Dexter, whatever he was, brilliant merchant and businessman, an eccentric with more luck than brains, or just a plain old weirdo. As I read more of this man, I became an admirer. He was quite a guy!
Dexter (he was not then a self-proclaimed "Lord) was born in Malden, a suburb of Boston, in 1748. He had no real education, formal or informal, and was probably illiterate when, at the age of eight, he was a farm laborer. Eight years later, he became an apprentice to a man who was a leather-dresser, a tanner. He apparently was quite good at his craft and, the following year moved to Newburyport to establish his business in that city.
Again, in Newburyport, he must have been successful enough as a tanner to attract a wealthy wife, Elizabeth Frothingham and he bought a large home. He later became dissatisfied with both of these acquisitions!
During his years in Newburyport, before he had amassed a significant fortune, and after, he was considered by his contemporaries as an object of ridicule. They continuously gave him bad business advice and suggestions all to the end of making him the fool. Dexter took the advice seriously and began a series of financial adventures that all turned out successful.
Before the end of the Revolutionary War, Dexter purchased Continental Dollars, all of which were generally considered virtually worthless. After the War, Alexander Hamilton's finance program went into operation and the “dollars” were backed by the new government; Dexter became a very wealthy man indeed.
At this point, Mr. Dexter awarded himself the title, "Lord". The title may have come from the citizens of Chester, New Hampshire, where Dexter also had a home, but this is somewhat vague. (Like so much of the Dexter saga, conflicting stories abound.)
Dexter also had purchased large sums of European currency, again for practically nothing; “everyone” knew that the stuff was without the slightest value. After the war, when trade was resumed, these "worthless pieces of paper" became of great value.
Dexter became even richer and, with his new wealth, he bought two merchant ships and started an export business to Europe and the West Indies.
An amusing story is told of his relationships with the governing council of Newburyport. Everyone knew Timothy Dexter, the tanner, and how determined he was to raise himself to a higher station. Like a fly pestering a horse, Dexter had subjected the Selectmen to petition after petition that he be considered for public office, any office at all but hopefully one consistent with his now sizable financial resources. Because of his poor handwriting and his weak if not non-existent grasp of spelling and grammar, these petitions were virtually incomprehensible, although their sheer weight accumulated, ounce by ounce. Perhaps the Selectmen had grown tired of trying to decode them. Whatever the reason, in an act combining desperation with sarcasm, they resurrected the title of "Informer of Deer" and bestowed it upon Dexter. This position was one equivalent to a game warden and was of age-old English tradition. Dexter took up this office with great pride, despite the fact that no deer had been seen within the town limits of Newburyport for years. Dexter attempted to perform the duties of the high office, looking for deer which could be protected!
The poor advice from contemporaries, designed to bankrupt and humiliate Dexter began in earnest. Someone told him that a prospective fortune could be made by sending warming pans (used to heat sheets in the cold New England winter) to the tropical West Indies. Dexter's captain sold them as ladles for the local molasses industry and made a good profit. Next Dexter sent wool mittens to the same place. Asian merchants bought them for export to Russia and, in particular, Siberia.
He was then advised that substantial money could be made by shipping coal to Newcastle, a major coal mining center in Great Britain for several hundred years. (The expression “selling coal to Newcastle” as meaning a foolish act had been in vogue for years and was well known to all except Dexter.) The “advisors” relished the idea of Dexter’s making a fool of himself. This, the locals were sure, would prove to be the ultimate folly. When Dexter's ship arrived, the coalminers were on strike and his shipment was greatly welcomed and paid for! Another story is told that Dexter was induced to hoard a substantial amount of whalebone (it may have been an error); he sold it for use as supports for ladies' corsets.
By now, Dexter was extremely wealthy, but remained scorned by the upper classes of New England society.
Dexter then built his famous house on High Street in Newburyport. A picture post card of the era is reprinted above.. The columns are all gone, as are the statutes (although I am told that one column is on display at the Peabody Essex Museum). Dexter decorated it with minarets, a golden eagle on the top of the cupola, a mausoleum for himself and a garden of 40 wooden statues of famous men, including George Washington, William Pitt, Napoleon Bonaparte, Thomas Jefferson and of course, himself. It had an inscription "I am the first in the East, the first in the West, and the greatest philosopher in the Western World." False modesty was not his strong suit
The mausoleum was to be used later, as a prank and then for real.
At the age of 50, Dexter wrote a book-pamphlet, A Pickle for the Knowing Ones or Plain Truth in a Homespun Dress. He wrote about himself and complained about politicians, clergy and his wife. The book contained 8,847 words and 33,864 letters, but absolutely no punctuation and capital letters were sprinkled about at random. At first he handed his book out for free, but it rapidly became popular and ran into eight editions in total. When people complained that it was hard to read, for the second edition he added an extra page - of punctuation marks - asking readers to "peper and solt it as they plese". This book is available now and is, I admit, difficult to read.
Now the mausoleum and his lack of warmth for his wife. Dexter had the habit of sleeping in his coffin and was preoccupied with the idea of his death and whether people would mourn him. He planned an elaborate funeral for himself, and a wake. Over 3000 people are said to have attended, many believing the story that he had in fact died. The legend is that his wife failed to weep sufficiently over his "passing" and he beat her; he was so unhappy about the lack of wailing and rending of garments at his "wake", he refused to appear! When he finally died in 1806, people felt more relieved than grieved.
The stories of Lord Timothy Dexter are legion. Books have been written and essays composed. I will never forget the tales of the "Lord" as related by my father; it is a real part of my childhood, too.
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