Thomas Neale - the Elon Musk of 17th Century England
Do you feel like you’re working hard this week? Making your mark on the world? Shaking up the business scene with new ventures, ideas, and fundraising rounds? Then spare a thought for Thomas Neale. You won’t find him on LinkedIn or featured in the pages of Forbes or The Financial Times, but his invention, productivity, and impact would make modern influencers shudder.
Born in Hampshire in 1641, Neale was one of the most significant figures in English history—and yet remains almost entirely unknown. In Restoration London, he was everywhere. An MP for over 30 years and Master of the Royal Mint for a decade, he served as Groom Porter and later Groom of the Royal Bedchamber, a close confidant to three kings. He dominated his era as a master networker. A fellow of the Royal Society, he was nicknamed “Golden Neale” by Samuel Pepys, and employed a young Daniel Defoe as a sort of proto-publicist before Defoe achieved greater fame writing novels.
As an entrepreneur, or “Projector,” as those visionaries were then called, Neale founded over 40 ventures. He proposed the first national lottery (and personally profited from it), floated companies before there was a stock exchange, helped establish what became the Bank of England, and launched a postal system for the Americas. He mapped out entire districts of London and transformed Tunbridge Wells into a fashionable spa resort. His vision for Seven Dial, a bold geometric reimagining of a notorious slum, was an audacious blend of city planning, symbolism, and spectacle.
He was, of course, contentious. Snubbed by the old guard, despised by the powerful guilds and liverymen who controlled trade, Neale pushed back against the trade cartels and carved his own path through the gold rush of post–Great Fire London. With the formidable Elizabeth Gould at his side, he became a force to be reckoned with; one of the defining figures in what Defoe called “The Age of Projectors.”
If you think entrepreneurs today are daring, try pitching a state-run lottery, a city-wide redesign, and an alchemical side hustle to King Charles II and Sir Christopher Wren. That was a Tuesday for Thomas Neale. He never met a speculative scheme he didn’t like. Like Musk, Bezos, or Jobs, he was seen as an outsider—brilliant, maddening, often mocked. His ventures ranged from the ingenious to the downright bizarre. He proposed fire-retardant glass and deep-sea salvage, launched public lotteries and private labs, and was at various points sued, challenged to duels, or reduced to begging favours. But he never stopped. He was always onto the next thing.
Unlike Neale, modern entrepreneurs don’t try to extract gold from lead, but they do turn data into pounds, attention into currency, and dreams into IPOs. They are often mythologised and distinguished by their ‘outfits’ - Jobs in his black turtleneck, Musk gaming and tweeting at midnight, Bezos channelling Bond villain energy in space. Neale did it in style.
He wore a long coat, a grand wig, and deliberately scuffed boots.