The Unusual Life of Jeffrey Hudson

Born around 1619, it's now believed that Hudson had a form of dwarfism due to a pituitary gland disorder which caused a growth hormone deficiency. Published in 1662, Thomas Fuller’s The History of the Worthies of England provides some interesting early biographical detail. 

The young Jeffrey’s prospects may well have proved extremely limited if it had not been for his father John’s connection to the influential George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. The bloodthirsty sport of bull baiting, a one-sided contest in which the bull was pitted against a pack of dogs, was extremely popular at the time and Villiers was just one of many aristocrats who kept animals for use in this sport as a status symbol. According to Fuller, Hudson Senior was the man charged with looking after them.

As a so-called “rarity of nature”, Jeffrey attracted the attention of the nobleman’s wife and, at the age of seven, was invited to join the Duchess of Buckingham’s household. It wasn’t long, though, before he was on the move once more after catching the eye of an even more influential figure. 

In November 1626, the Duke and Duchess entertained King Charles I and his Queen, Henrietta Maria, at their London home. Eager to impress, they organized a lavish banquet. The highlight of the evening came when a cold baked pie was presented to the Queen. Before she could tuck in to the tempting offering, a small arm broke through the crust and Hudson, dressed in a miniature suit of armor, leapt out of the pie. The Queen was charmed by the tiny boy, so perfectly proportioned but just 18 inches in height, and the Duchess offered him to her as a gift.

In return for amusing his wealthy patron, Hudson enjoyed a pampered existence, of which he could otherwise have hardly dreamt, but it came at the expense of any personal independence and was not without risk. At the age of just 10, he was included on a mission to France and was lucky to escape with his life when the ship on which he was travelling home was captured by pirates. Fortunately, he was released without harm.

Hudson became a well-known figure of the day, whose fame spread far beyond the royal household. He is recorded as having appeared in several masques staged at court, most famously when during one performance he was unexpectedly pulled out of the pocket of William Evans, a royal porter who was reportedly over seven feet tall. Highlighting his status as a favorite of the Queen, several portraits of Hudson also exist, including one with Henrietta Maria herself. 

By the time that Hudson reached adulthood, however, the royal court had become an increasingly dangerous place with which to be associated. After years of disagreement between King Charles I and his Parliament, an armed conflict broke out in the summer of 1642. The English Civil War, as it is known today, tore the country apart for seven years and finally ended with Charles being put to death at the hands of his victorious opponents. 

Shortly before war broke out, Henrietta Maria fled England for the Netherlands, accompanied by several trusted members of her personal retinue, including Hudson. She hoped to persuade the Dutch government to support the Royalist cause, but other than raising much-needed funds, she proved unsuccessful and returned home. Back in England, the Queen inevitably proved a target for enemy soldiers. Despite his small stature, Hudson is reported to have joined the other male members of her household on protection duties and, in recognition of his bravery, was awarded the honorary title of “Captain of the Horse”. 

During the following year, Henrietta Maria once more departed England for the continent, this time to her native France. The Queen and her entourage established a base in Nevers, where they were joined by several prominent English royal courtiers, including brothers William and Charles Crofts. Despite displaying considerable courage in defending the Queen, Hudson soon found himself back in his familiar role as court jester, much to his apparent resentment. His contemporary Fuller judged him as “wanting nothing but humility”, but, to modern eyes, Hudson was doubtlessly justified in believing that he had earned the right to be treated respectfully as an equal. 

In October 1644, Hudson’s patience finally snapped and, after reportedly being insulted by Charles Crofts, challenged him to a duel. His young opponent treated the challenge as a joke, turning up to the contest with the medieval equivalent of a large water pistol. Armed with a pistol, Hudson was, however, deadly serious and shot his opponent in the head with fatal consequences. 

Although the practice was not uncommon, dueling had been officially outlawed in France several decades earlier. Moreover, although Louis XIV had only recently succeeded to the French throne in 1638, he had already expressed a desire to wipe out the practice altogether. Hudson was, therefore, initially sentenced to death and only escaped with his life because of the personal intercession of Henrietta Maria. 

Writing to the French chief minister, Cardinal Mazarin, about “a misfortune which has happened to my house, of Geoffrey (sic), who has killed Croft’s brother”, she asked for “authority to dispose of them as I please, in dispensing either justice or favour”. Having been given leave to do so, she had little choice other than to banish Hudson from the court or else risk accusations of having abused the hospitality of her French hosts. 

Still aged just 25, Hudson was sent back to England but never arrived home. Instead, his vessel was captured by the notorious Barbary corsairs, who, although based on the Mediterranean coastline of North Africa, operated as far north as the French Atlantic coast. These much-feared pirates plundered hundreds of vessels each year, often selling their unfortunate victims into slavery. 

Upon payment of a hefty ransom, Hudson would probably have been set free and allowed to return home. However, with the Royalist camp in disarray because of the Civil War, nobody stepped forward to arrange the release of the former court favorite and instead he was left to languish in slavery in North Africa for many years to come. 

He was not forgotten altogether, though, as illustrated in a 1650 poem by Robert Heath. Addressing “Jeffry the King’s dwarfe”, Heath writes, “Small Sir...Though low you seem, Yet you’ar both great and high in men’s esteem. Your soul’s as large as others, so’s your mind: To greatness Virtue’s not like strength confin’d”.

Details surrounding Hudson’s eventual return to England remain sketchy, but he appears to have been back home by the late 1660s. Although the monarchy had been restored at the beginning of that decade, he did not return to the royal court but instead lived in a small cottage in his hometown of Oakham. According to James Wright’s The History and Antiquities of Rutland (published in 1684), Hudson was granted “certain pensions” by the second Duke of Buckingham, the son of the Duchess who had originally taken him under her wing. 

Hudson was reportedly changed by his experiences, most notably in height, which had more than doubled during his time abroad. On being asked about the reasons for this sudden growth spurt, he attributed it to the ill treatment he had received during his time in captivity. Yet, he did not settle for a peaceful life in Rutland. Instead, he eventually travelled to London, where he was soon embroiled in yet another major crisis. 

By the late 1670s, religious tensions were running high in the capital. Matters came to a head when a disaffected priest named Titus Oates fabricated evidence of a plot to murder the Protestant King Charles II and replace him with his Catholic brother, James II. After arriving at the royal court as a young boy, Hudson had been raised as a Roman Catholic in line with the faith followed by the Queen. Now, as a prominent Catholic, who, like Oates, came from Oakham, Hudson was one of those implicated in the so-called Popish Plot and was imprisoned in London’s Gatehouse Prison. James Wright describes Hudson as remaining there for “a considerable time” and only living for around only two more years after his release before his death at the age of around 63.

As ever, concrete evidence of events surrounding the final months of this fascinating figure’s life remains tantalizingly out of reach. Shortly before his assumed year of death, in 1682, Hudson is recorded as having received two mysterious payments from King Charles II’s secret service fund for reasons which remain unclear. Sadly, we will probably never know whether, in an unexpected final chapter of a compelling life, Hudson returned to active royal service and was engaged in espionage activities for the monarch at the time of his death.