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"UNTVF.71SITY   OF   CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BA_R3AIiA  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 


*U/T 


) 


PREFACE. 


The  exhaustless  interest  and  endless  suggestiveness  of 
Ancient  and  Modern  London  have  induced  the  author 
to  collect  in  these  volumes  some  of  its  more  curious 
characteristics.  His  object  has  been  more  especially 
to  present  to  the  reader,  who  enjoys  the  Past  without 
underrating  the  Present,  a  collection  of  Strange 
Stories,  Scenes,  Adventures,  and  Vicissitudes 
associated  with  London. 

Romance,  we  know,  has  been  accused  of  corrupting 
the  truth  of  history ;  but  the  romantic  character  which 
the  following  Narratives  possess,  has  not  been  gained 
by  a  sacrifice  of  truth,  since  our  Romance  consists  of 
marvellous  incidents,  verifying  the  saying  that  "  Truth 
is  stranger  than  Fiction."     As  in  Nature,  so  in  Art — 

"  'Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view  : " 

but  the  "  modern  instances  "  in  these  volumes  are  as  re- 
markable, in  character  as  the  notable  things  of  centuries 
ago.  Whether  we  regard  London  as  a  walled  town,  as 
a  labyrinth  of  courts  and  alleys,  or  as  a  majestic  city, 
with  2600  miles  of  streets,  and  360,000  inhabited  houses, 


VI 


Preface. 


we  shall  find,  alike  in  every  period,  a  succession  of  scenes 
calculated  to  excite  curiosity  and  awaken  wonder. 

This  work  ranges  from  the  building  of  the  first  Bridge 
at  London  to  the  present  century.  In  the  earlier  nar- 
ratives we  have  avoided  the  acquaintance  of  the  old 
chronicle,  as  unsuited  for  popular  reading.  Here  are 
Historic  Sketches  of  many  of  the  leading  events 
with  which  the  History  of  London  is  chequered.  In 
Remarkable  Duels,  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  term, 
and  in  the  sketches  of  NOTORIOUS  HIGHWAYMEN,  we 
get  some  glimpses  of  the  wild  life  of  the  Metropolis  in 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries ;  and  in  the 
section  of  ROGUERIES,  CRIMES,  and  PUNISHMENTS, 
are  pictured  many  dark  deeds,  while  Love  and  MAR- 
RIAGE present  us  with  lights  and  shadows  of  human  life 
always  interesting. 


CONTENTS. 


HISTORIC  SKETCHES. 


STORY  OF  THE   FERRYMAN'S  DAUGHTER,  ST  MARY  OVERS, 

AND  THE  FIRST  LONDON  BRIDGE, 
THE  BALLAD  OF  "  LONDON  BRIDGE  IS  BROKEN  DOWN," 
NOTED  RESIDENTS  ON  OLD  LONDON  BRIDGE, 
SMITHFIELD  AND  ITS  TOURNAMENTS, 
PLANTAGENET  PIGS,       .... 
"WHITTINGTON  AND  HIS  CAT," 
CROSBY  PLACE,  SHAKSPEARE,  AND  RICHARD  III., 
SORROWS  OF  SANCTUARY, 
THE  HUNGERFORDS  AT  CHARING  CROSS, 
JANE  SHORE  :   HER  TRUE  HISTORY,      . 
STORY  OF  A  KING'S  HEAD, 
QUEEN  ELIZABETH  BY  TORCHLIGHT,  . 
ROMANCE  OF  THE  BEAUCHAMP  TOWER, 
TRAITORS'  GATE,  IN  THE  TOWER, 
THE  BLOODY  TOWER,     .... 
TWO  PRISONERS  IN  THE  BELL  TOWER, 
WHAT  BECAME  OF  THE  HEADS   OF   BISHOP  FISHER  AND  SIR 

THOMAS  MORE,        .... 
EXECUTION  OF  LADY  JANE  GREY, 


I 

6 

9 

13 

14 
16 

22 
26 
28 
34 
37 
39 
4i 
47 
49 
51 

54 
56 


Vlll 


Co7itents. 


PAGB 

WHERE  WAS  ANNE  EOLEYN  BURIED  ?              .               .               .  59 
SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH  WRITING  HIS  "HISTORY  OF  THE 

WORLD,"  .......  60 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH  ATTEMPTS  SUICIDE  IN  THE  TOWER,  63 

THE  EXECUTION  OF  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH,               .               .  67 

THE  POISONING  OF  SIR  THOMAS  OVERBURY,             .               .  69 

A  FAREWELL  FEAST  IN  THE  TOWER,              ...  72 

THE  GUNPOWDER  PLOT  DETECTED,                •                •                •  73 

TWO  TIPPLING  KINGS,              ...'..  84 

FUNERAL  OF  JAMES  L,             .....  86 

HISTORICAL  COINCIDENCES,                ....  89 

QUEEN  HENRIETTA  MARIA  DOING  PENANCE  AT  TYBURN,  91 

"  OLD  PARR,"  .......  94 

GEORGE  AND  BLUE  BOAR  INN. — THE  INTERCEPTED  LETTER,  98 

LORD  SANQUHAR'S  REVENGE  :  A  STORY  OF  WHITEFRIARS,  99 

MARTYRDOM  OF  KING  CHARLES  I.,  .               .               .               .  IOI 

THE  STORY  OF  DON  PANTALEON  SA,              .               .               .  I04 

SIR  RICHARD  WILLIS'S  PLOT  AGAINST  CHARLES  II.,              .  I08 

MANSION  OF  A  CITY  MERCHANT  PRINCE,    .               i               .  1 10 

TREASURE-SEEKING  IN  THE  TOWER,              .               .               .  112 

COLONEL  BLOOD  STEALS  THE  CROWN  FROM  THE  TOWER,  1 13 

THE  STORY  OF  NAN  CLARGES,  DUCHESS  OF  ALBEMARLE,  .  120 

SIR  EDMUND  BERRY  GODFREY  :   HIS  MYSTERIOUS  DEATH,  I24 
COLONEL  BLOOD'S  ATTACK  UPON  THE  DUKE  OF  ORMOND 

IN  ST  JAMES'S  STREET,  .....  I30 

THE  HEROIC  LADY  FANSHAWE,           ....  I32 

CROMWELL'S  SKULL,                 .                .               .               .  135 

A  STORY  OF  MIDDLE  TEMPLE  GATE,               .               .               .  1 37 

THE  STORY  OF  NELL  GWYNNE,           ....  139 

FRANCIS  BACON  IN  GRAY'S  INN,         .               .               .               .  I47 

LORD  CRAVEN  AND  THE  QUEEN  OF  BOHEMIA,         .               .  I49 

ADDISON'S  "CAMPAIGN,"        .....  154 

LADIES  EXCLUDED  FROM  THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS,   .               .  158 


Contents. 


IX 


JEMMY  DAWSON,  ..... 

SECRET  VISITS  OF  THE  YOUNG  PRETENDER  TO  LONDON, 

THE  RIOTS  OF  1780,    ..... 

ALDERMAN  BECKFORD  AND  HIS  MONUMENTAL  SPEECH, 

ROYALTY  DEDUCED  FROM  A  TUB-WOMAN,  .  ; 

UNFORTUNATE  BARONETS,    .... 

THE  VICTORY  OF  CULLODEX, 

SUICIDE  OF  LORD  CLIVE,       .  .  .  . 

FUNERAL  OF  NELSON,  .... 

LORD  CASTLEREAGH'S  BLUNDERS,    . 

ACCESSION  OF  QUEEN  VICTORIA,       . 

THE  ROYAL  EXCHANGE  MOTTO, 

LONDON  RESIDENCE  OF  THE   EMPEROR  OF  THE   FRENCH 

IN  1847-8,  ..... 

THE  CHARTISTS  IN  1 848,        .... 
APSLEY  HOUSE,  ..... 


160 
163 
170 

175 
180 
l8l 

183 
184 
187 
190 
IQI 
193 

194 
196 
198 


REMARKABLE  DUELS. 


TRIAL  BY  BATTLE,      . 

THE  FIELD  OF  FORTY  FOOTSTEPS,    . 

THE  FAMOUS  CHESHIRE  WILL  CASE, 

DUEL    BETWEEN   THE   DUKE   OF    HAMILTON   AND   LORD 

MOHUN,  ...... 

DUEL  BETWEEN  LORD  BYRON  AND  MR  CHAWORTH, 
DUEL    BETWEEN     THE    DUKE    OF    YORK    AND    COLONEL 

LENOX,    .... 
"  FIGHTING  FITZGERALD,"     . 
PRIMROSE  HILL, 

LORD  CAMELFORD,  THE  DUELLIST, 
A  LITERARY  DUEL,     . 
A  TERRIBLE  DUEL,     . 


200 

202 
205 

208 
219 

22? 
228 
230 
231 
236 

239 


X 


Contents. 


NOTORIOUS  HIGHWAYMEN. 

HEROES  OF  THE  ROAD, 

CLAUDE  DUVAL,  «... 

JEMMY  WHITNEY,  THE  HANDSOME  HIGHWAYMAN, 
DICK  TURPIN,  .... 

M'LEAN,  THE  FASHIONABLE  HIGHWAYMAN, 
METROPOLITAN  HIGHWAYMEN, 


PAGB 

241 

244 
245 
247 
249 
253 


ROGUERIES,  CRIMES,  AND  PUNISHMENTS. 

ANCIENT  CIVIL  PUNISHMENTS, 
CAGE  AND  STOCKS  AT  LONDON  BRIDGE, 
FLOGGING  AT  BRIDEWELL,      . 
WITCHCRAFT  PENANCE  ON  LONDON  BRIDGE, 
STRIKING  IN  THE  KING'S  COURT, 
TORTURE — THE  RACK, 
PRESSING  TO  DEATH, 
DISCOVERY  OF  A  MURDER,       . 
ORIGIN  OF  THE  COVENTRY  ACT, 
RISE  OF  JUDGE  JEFFREYS, 
-  STORIES  OF  THE  STAR-CHAMBER, 
PERSONS  OF  NOTE  IMPRISONED  IN  THE  FLEET, 
THE  RISING  OF  SIR  THOMAS  WYAT,     . 
THE  STORY  OF  GEORGE  BARNWELL,   . 
LADY  HENRIETTA  BERKELEY, 

ASSASSINATION  OF  MR  THYNNE  IN  PALL  MALL, 
MURDER  OF  MOUNTFORT,  THE  PLAYER, 
TWO  EXTRAORDINARY  SUICIDES  AT  LONDON  BRIDGE, 
EXTRAORDINARY  ESCAPE  FROM  DEATH, 
HUMAN  HEADS  ON  TEMPLE  BAR, 
ADVENTURE  WITH  A  FORGER, 
ECCENTRIC  BENEVOLENCE,      . 


270 
272 
273 
275 
278 
28l 
283 

286 
287 
288 
290 

293 

300 

303 
3i3 
316 
322 
326 
328 

33i 
336 
339 


Contents. 


XI 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  LORD  FERRERS, 

BALTIMORE  HOUSE,      . 

THE  MINTERS  OF  SOUTHWARK, 

STEALING  A  DEAD  BODY, 

THE  EXECUTION  OF  DR  DODD, 

THE  STORY  OF  HACKMAN  AND  MISS  REAY, 

ATTEMPTS  TO  ASSASSINATE  GEORGE  III., 

TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION  OF  GOVERNOR  "WALL, 

CASE  OF  ELIZA  FENNING,  THE  SUSPECTED  POISONER, 

WAINWRIGHT,  THE  POISONER, 

RATCLIFFE  HIGHWAY  MURDERS, 

THF  CATO  STREET  CONSPIRACY, 

VAUX,  THE  SWINDLER  AND  PICKPOCKET,       . 

A  MURDERER  TAKEN  BY  MEANS  OF  THE  ELECTRIC  TE 

GRAPH,       .... 
STORIES  OF  THE  BANK  OF  ENGLAND, 


PAGE 
340 

345 
349 
352 

355 

362 

372 
376 

382 

385 
389 
39i 
394 

398 

403 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE. 

STORIES  OF  FLEET  MARRIAGES, 

STORY  OF  RICHARD  LOVELACE, 

WYCHERLY  AND  HIS  COUNTESS, 

STORY  OF  BEAU  FIELDING,       . 

BEAU  WILSON,  . 

THE  UNFORTUNATE  ROXANA, 

MRS  CENTLIVRE  AND  HER  THREE  HUSBANDS, 

STOLEN  MARRIAGES  AT  KNIGHTSBRIDGE, 

"  THE  HANDSOME  ENGLISHMAN," 

A  MAYFAIR  MARRIAGE, 

GEORGE  III.  AND  "THE  FAIR  QUAKERESS," 

GEORGE  III.  AND  LADY  SARAH  LENOX, 

LOVE  AND  MADNESS,  . 

EMMA,  LADY  HAMILTON, 


406 
413 

415 
418 

420 
423 
425 
426 

427 

433 
435 
436 
440 
441 


Xll 


Contents. 


BREACHES  OF  PROMISE, 

MARRIAGE   OF   MRS    FITZHERBERT   AND   THE    PRINCE  OF 

WALES,  ....... 

FLIGHT   OF    THE   PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE    FROM   WARWICK 

HOUSE,  ....... 

GEORGE  IV.  AND  HIS  QUEEN,  .... 


TAGH 

444 
446 

449 
456 


SUPERNATURAL  STORIES. 

A  VISION  IN  THE  TOWER, 

THE  LEGEND  OF  KILBURN,       . 

OMENS  TO  CHARLES  I.  AND  JAMES  II. 

PREMONITION  AND  VISION  TO  DR  DONNE, 

APPARITION  IN  THE  TOWER, 

LILLY,  THE  ASTROLOGER, 

TOUCHING  FOR  THE  EVIL, 

DAVID  RAMSAY  AND  THE  DIVINING-ROD, 

LADY  DAVIES,  THE  PROPHETESS, 

DR  LAMB,  THE  CONJURER, 

MURDER  AND  AN  APPARITION, 

A  VISION  OF  LORD  HERBERT  OF  CHERBURY 

A  VISION  ON  LONDON  BRIDGE, 

A  MYSTERIOUS  LADY, 

STORY  OF  THE  COCK  LANE  GHOST,    . 


459 
460 

462 

465 

468 

469 

475 
477 
478 

479 
481 

482 
485 
488 
489 


ROMANCE   OF   LONDON. 


ffxstuxit  Slutdjcs. 


Story   of   the    Ferryman's  Daughter,    St  Alary 
Overs,  and  the  First  London  Bridge. 

In  the  British  Museum  is  a  singularly  curious,  although 
probably  fabulous,  tract  of  30  pages,  entitled  "The  True 
History  of  the  Life  and  Sudden  Death  of  old  John 
Overs,  the  rich  Ferryman  of  London,  showing  how  he 
lost  his  life  by  his  own  covetousness.  And  of  his 
daughter  Mary,  who  caused  the  Church  of  St  Mary 
Overs  in  Southwark  to  be  built ;  and  of  the  building 
of  London  Bridge."  The  History  opens  as  follows  : 
— "Before  there  was  any  Bridge  at  all  built  over  the 
Thames,  there  was  only  a  Ferry,  to  which  divers  Boats 
belonged,  to  transport  all  Passengers  betwixt  Southwark 
and  Churchyard  Alley,  that  being  the  high-road  way 
betwixt  Middlesex  and  Sussex  and  London.  The  Ferry 
was  rented  of  the  City,  by  one  John  Overs,  which  he 
enjoyed  for  many  years  together,  to  his  great  profit ;  for 
it  is  to  be  imagined,  that  no  small  benefit  could  arise 

VOL.  I.  A 


2  Romance  of  Loudon. 

from  the  ferrying  over  footmen,  horsemen,  all  manner  of 
cattle,  all  market  folks  that  came  with  provisions  to  the 
City,  strangers,  and  others." 

Overs,  however,  though  he  kept  several  servants  and 
apprentices,  was  of  so  covetous  a  soul,  that,  notwith- 
standing he  possessed  an  estate  equal  to  that  of  the  best 
Alderman  in  London,  acquired  by  unceasing  labour, 
frugality,  and  usury,  yet  his  habit  and  dwelling  were 
both  strangely  expressive  of  the  most  miserable  poverty. 
He  had  an  only  daughter,  "  of  a  beautiful  aspect,"  says 
the  tract,  "  and  a  pious  disposition  ;  whom  he  had  care 
to  see  well  and  liberally  educated,  though  at  the  cheapest 
rate ;  and  yet  so,  that  when  she  grew  ripe  and  mature 
for  marriage,  he  would  suffer  no  man  of  what  condition 
or  quality  soever,  by  his  goodwill,  to  have  any  sight  of 
her,  much  less  access  to  her."  A  young  gallant,  how- 
ever, who  seems  to  have  thought  more  of  being  the 
Ferryman's  heir  than  his  son-in-law,  took  the  oppor- 
tunity, while  he  was  engaged  at  the  Ferry,  to  be  admitted 
into  her  company.  "  The  first  interview,"  says  the  story, 
"  pleased  well ;  the  second  better;  the  third  concluded 
the  match  between  them." 

"  In  all  this  long  interim,  the  poor  silly  rich  old 
Ferryman,  not  dreaming  of  any  such  passages,  but 
thinking  all  things  to  be  as  secure  by  land  as  he  knew 
they  were  by  water,"  continued  his  former  wretched  and 
penurious  course  of  life.  To  save  the  expense  of  one 
day's  food  in  his  family,  he  formed  a  scheme  to  feign 
himself  dead  for  twenty-four  hours,  in  the  vain  expecta- 
tion that  his  servants  would,  out  of  propriety,  fast  until 
after  his  funeral.  Having  procured  his  daughter  to 
consent  to  this  plot,  even  against  her  better  nature,  he 
was  put  into  a  sheet,  and  stretched  out  in  his  chamber, 


Story  of  the  Ferryman's  Daughter.  3 

having  one  taper  burning  at  his  head,  and  another  at  his 
feet,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time.  When,  how- 
ever, his  servants  were  informed  of  his  decease,  instead 
of  lamenting  they  were  overjoyed,  and,  having  danced 
round  the  body,  they  broke  open  his  larder,  and  fell  to 
banqueting.  The  Ferryman  bore  all  this  as  long,  and 
as  much  like  a  dead  man,  as  he  was  able;  "but  when  he 
could  endure  it  no  longer,"  says  the  tract,  "  stirring  and 
struggling  in  his  sheet,  like  a  ghost  with  a  candle  in 
each  hand,  he  purposed  to  rise  up,  and  rate  'em  for  their 
sauciness  and  boldness;  when  one  of  them,  thinking 
that  the  Devil  was  about  to  rise  in  his  likeness,  being  in 
a  great  amaze,  catched  hold  of  the  butt-end  of  a  broken 
oar,  which  was  in  the  chamber,  and  being  a  sturdy 
knave,  thinking  to  kill  the  Devil  at  the  first  blow, 
actually  struck  out  his  brains."  It  is  added  that  the 
servant  was  acquitted,  and  the  Ferryman  made  accessary 
and  cause  of  his  own  death. 

The  estate  of  Overs  then  fell  to  his  daughter,  and  her 
lover  hearing  of  it,  hastened  up  from  the  country  ;  but, 
in  riding  post,  his  horse  stumbled,  and  he  broke  his  neck 
on  the  highway.  The  young  heiress  was  almost  dis- 
tracted at  these  events,  and  was  recalled  to  her  faculties 
only  by  having  to  provide  for  her  father's  interment ;  for 
he  was  not  permitted  to  have  a  Christian  burial,  being 
considered  as  an  excommunicated  man,  on  account 
of  his  extortions,  usury,  and  truly  miserable  life.  The 
Friars  of  Bermondsey  Abbey  were,  however,  prevailed 
upon,  by  money,  their  Abbot  being  then  away,  to  give 
a  little  earth  to  the  remains  of  the  wretched  Ferryman. 
But,  upon  the  Abbot's  return,  observing  a  grave  which 
had  been  recently  covered  in,  and  learning  who  lay 
there,  he  was  not  only  angry  with  his  Monks  for  having 


4  Romance  of  London. 

done  such  an  injury  to  the  Church  for  the  sake  of  gain, 
but  he  also  had  the  body  taken  up  again,  laid  on  the 
back  of  his  own  ass,  and  turning  the  animal  out  of  the 
Abbey  gates,  desired  of  God  that  he  might  carry  him  to 
some  place  where  he  best  deserved  to  be  buried.  The 
ass  proceeded  with  a  gentle  and  solemn  pace  through 
Kent  Street,  and  along  the  highway,  to  the  small  pond 
once  called  St  Thomas  a  Waterings,  then  the  common 
place  of  execution,  and  shook  off  the  Ferryman's  body 
directly  under  the  gibbet,  where  it  was  put  into  the 
ground  without  any  kind  of  ceremony. 

Mary  Overs,  extremely  distressed  by  such  a  battalion 
of  sorrows,  and  desirous  to  be  free  from  the  importu- 
nities of  the  numerous  suitors  for  her  hand  and  fortune, 
resolved  to  retire  into  a  cloister,  which  she  shortly  after- 
wards did,  having  first  provided  for  the  building  of 
that  church  which  commemorates  her  name. 

There  is  extant  a  monumental  effigy  preserved  in  the 
Church,  which  is  commonly  reported  to  be  that  of 
Audery,  the  Ferryman,  father  of  the  foundress  of  St 
Mary  Overies.  As  a  supplement  to  the  story  contained 
in  the  tract,  it  is  related  that  the  pious  maiden,  out  of 
her  filial  love,  had  the  effigy  sculptured  in  memory  of 
her  father  ;  since  it  was  thought  to  represent  the  cada- 
verous features  of  the  old  waterman  :  it  represents  a 
skeleton  in  a  shroud  ;  but  the  workmanship  is  of  the 
15th  century,  and  Audery  certainly  died  long  before  the 
time  of  William  I.  Captain  Grose  has  engraved  this 
effigy  in  his  Antiquities,  and  describes  it  as  "a  skeleton- 
like figure,  of  which  the  usual  story  is  told,  that  the  per- 
son thereby  represented  attempted  to  fast  forty  days  in 
imitation  of  Christ,"  adding  that  he  died  in  the  attempt, 
having  first  reduced  himself  to  that  appearance. 


Story  of  the  Ferryman's  Daughter.  5 

Stow  attributes  the  building  of  the  first  Wooden 
Bridge  over  the  Thames  at  London  to  the  pious  brothers 
of  St  Mary's  Monastery,  on  the  Bank  side ;  and  this  on 
the  authority  of  Linsted,  the  last  Prior  of  St  Mary 
Overies,  who,  on  surrendering  his  Convent  at  the  Dis- 
solution, had  a  pension  assigned  him  of  £  100  per  annum, 
which  he  enjoyed  until  1553.  From  the  Supplement  to 
Dugdale's  Monasticon,  Stow  states  that  "  a  Ferry  being 
kept  in  the  place  where  the  Bridge  is  built,  the  Ferry- 
man and  his  wife  deceasing,  left  the  said  Ferry  to  their 
only  daughter,  a  maiden  named  Mary  ;  which,  with  the 
goods  left  her  by  her  parents,  as  also  with  the  profits 
rising  of  the  said  Fern-,  built  a  house  of  Sisters  in  the 
place  where  now  standeth  the  east  part  of  St  Mary 
Overies  Church,  above  the  choir,  where  she  was  buried. 
Unto  which  house  she  gave  the  oversight  and  profits  of 
the  Ferry.  But,  afterwards,  the  said  house  of  Sisters 
being  converted  into  a  College  of  Priests,  the  Priests 
built  the  bridge  of  timber,  as  all  the  other  great  bridges 
of  this  land  were,  and,  from  time  to  time,  kept  the  same 
in  good  reparations.  Till,  at  length,  considering  the 
great  charges  of  repairing  the  same,  there  was,  by  aid  of 
the  Citizens  of  London,  and  others,  a  Bridge  built  with 
arches  of  Stone,"  &c.  This  version  has  been  much 
opposed  by  antiquaries,  who  are  not  inclined  to  attribute 
the  building  of  the  first  Wooden  Bridge  to  the  Monks  of 
Southwark.* 

*  See  Chronicles  of  London  Bridge,  by  an  Antiquary,  pp.  40  44. 


Romance  of  L  ondon. 


The  Ballad  of  " London  Bridge  is  Broken 

Down!' 

THIS  very  popular  nurse's  song,  which  is  a  metrical 
illustration  of  the  connection  of  the  River  Lee  and 
London  Bridge,  has  a  scattered  history,  which  it  is 
difficult  to  trace.  One  of  the  most  elegant  copies  of 
the  ballad  is  to  be  found  in  Ritson's  rare  and  curious 
Gammer  Gurtoiis  Garland;  or,  The  Nursery  Parnassus, 
and  is  as  follows : — 

London  Bridge  is  broken  down, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
London  Bridge  is  broken  down, 

Willi  a  gay  lady. 

How  shall  we  build  it  up  again  '. 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
How  shall  we  build  it  up  again  ? 

With  a  gay  lady. 

Silver  and  gold  will  be  stolen  away, 

Danes;  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
Silver  and  gold  will  be  stolen  away, 

With  a  gay  lady. 

Build  it  up  with  iron  and  steel, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
Build  it  up  with  iron  and  steel, 

With  a  gay  lady. 

Iron  and  steel  will  bend  and  bow, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
Iron  and  steel  will  bend  and  bow, 

With  a  gay  lady. 

Build  it  up  with  wood  and  clay, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
Build  it  up  with  wood  and  clay, 

With  a  gay  lady. 


"London  Bridge  is  Broken  Down? 


■^> 


"Wood  and  clay  will  wash  away, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
Wood  and  clay  will  wash  away, 

With  a  gay  lady. 

Build  it  up  with  stone  so  strong, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lee  ; 
Huzza  !  'twill  last  for  ages  long, 

With  a  gay  lady. 

Another  copy  of  this  ballad  contains  the  following 
stanzas,  wanting  in  Ritson's,  and  coming  in  immediately 
after  the  third  verse,  "  Silver  and  gold  will  be  stolen 
away  ;  "  though  the  propositions  for  building  this  Bridge 
with  iron  and  steel,  and  wood  and  stone,  have,  in  this 
copy  also,  already  been  made  and  objected  to. 

Then  we  must  set  a  man  to  watch, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lea  ; 
Then  we  must  set  a  man  to  watch, 

With  a  gay  La-dee. 
Suppose  the  man  should  fall  asleep, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lea  ; 
Suppose  the  man  should  fall  asleep, 

With  a  gay  La-dee. 
Then  we  must  put  a  pipe  in  his  mouth, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lea  ; 
Then  we  must  put  a  pipe  in  his  mouth, 

With  a  gay  La-dee. 
Suppose  the  pipe  should  fall  and  break, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lea  ; 
Suppose  the  pipe  should  fall  and  break, 

With  a  gay  La-dee. 

Then  we  must  set  a  dog  to  watch, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lea  ; 
Then  we  must  set  a  dog  to  watch, 

With  a  gay  La-dee. 
Suppose  the  dog  should  run  away, 

1  )ance  o'er  my  Lady  Lea  ; 
Suppose  the  dog  should  run  away, 

With  a  gay  La-dee. 


8  Romance  of  London. 

Tli en  we  must  chain  him  to  a  post, 

Dance  o'er  my  Lady  Lea  ; 
Then  we  must  chain  him  to  a  post, 

With  a  gay  La-dee. 

In  these  verses  it  will  be  observed  how  singularly  and 
happily  the  burthen  of  the  song  often  falls  in  with  the 
subject  of  the  new  line  ;  though,  probably,  the  whole 
ballad  has  been  formed  by  making  fresh  additions,  in  a 
long  series  of  years,  and  is,  perhaps,  almost  interminable 
when  received  in  all  its  different  versions.  The  stanzas 
last  quoted  are  the  introductory  lines  of  an  old  ballad, 
which  the  copyist,  more  than  seventy  years  previously, 
had  heard  plaintively  warbled  by  a  lady  who  was  born 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  and  who  lived  till  nearly  that 
of  George  II.  Another  copyist  observes  that  the  ballad 
concerning  London  Bridge  formed,  in  his  remembrance, 
part  of  a  Christmas  carol,  and  commenced  thus  : — 

Dame,  get  up  and  bake  your  pies, 
On  Christmas-day  in  the  morning  : 

"The  requisition,"  he  continues,  "goes  on  to  the  Dame 
to  prepare  for  the  feast,  and  her  answer  is — 

London  Bridge  is  broken  down, 
On  Christmas-day  in  the  morning. 

These  lines  are  from  a  Newcastle  carol  :  the  inference 
has  always  been  that,  until  the  Bridge  was  rebuilt,  some 
stop  would  be  put  to  Dame  Christmas's  operations  ;  but 
why  the  falling  of  a  part  of  London  Bridge  should  form 
part  of  a  Christmas  carol  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  is  a 
connection,  doubtless,  long  since  gathered  into  the  wallet 
which  Time  carries  at  his  back,  wherein  he  puts  alms 
for  oblivion,  though  we  may  remark  that  the  history  and 
features  of  the  old  Bridge  of  that  famous  town  had  a 


Noted  Residents  on  Old  London  Bridge.  9 

very  close  resemblance  to  that  of  London.  The  author 
of  the  Chronicles  of  London  Bridge  refers  the  composition 
of  the  ballad  to  some  very  ancient  date,  when,  London 
Bridge  lying  in  ruins,  the  office  of  Bridge  Master  was 
vacant;  and  his  power  over  the  river  Lee — for  it  is, 
doubtless,  that  river  which  is  celebrated  in  the  chorus 
to  this  song — was  for  a  while  at  an  end.  The  ancient 
Music  to  the  Song  is  preserved :  it  has  been  adapted  to 
the  feet  as  well  as  the  tongue  :  about  sixty  years  ago, 
one  moonlight  night,  in  a  street  in  Bristol,  was  heard  a 
dance  and  chorus  of  bovs  and  girls,  to  which  the  words 
of  this  Ballad  gave  measure.  The  breaking-down  of 
the  Bridge  was  announced  as  the  dancers  moved  round 
,  in  a  circle,  hand-in-hand  ;  the  question,  '  How  shall  we 
build  it  up  again  ? '  was  chanted  by  the  leader,  whilst 
the  rest  stood  still." 


Noted  Residents  on  Old  London  Bridge. 

Several  traditional  mistakes  have  b.een  perpetuated,  as 
to  persons  supposed  to  have  dwelt  upon  London  Bridge. 
Thus,  the  author  of  Wine  and  Walnuts  tells  us  that 
John  Bunyan  resided  for  some  time  upon  the  Bridge, 
though  we  fail  to  discover  any  such  circumstance  in 
either  of  the  lives  of  that  good  man  now  extant ;  but  he 
certainly  preached  for  some  time  at  a  chapel  in  South- 
ward Perhaps,  however,  the  first  assertion  may  be 
explained  by  a  passage  in  the  Preface  to  "  The  Labours 
of  that  eminent  Servant  of  Christ,  Mr  John  Bunyan," 
London,  1692,  folio,  where  it  is  stated  that  in  168S  he 
published  six  books,  being  the  time  of  James  II.' s  liberty 
of  conscience,  and  was  seized  with  a  sweating  distemper, 
which,  after  his  some  weeks'  going  about,  proved  his 


i  o  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

death  at  his  very  loving  friend's,  Mr  Strudwick's,  a 
grocer — at  the  sign  of  the  Star — "  at  Holborn  Bridge, 
London,  on  August  31st." 

It  is  also  recorded  on  the  same  page  of  Wine  and 
Walnuts,  that  Master  Abel,  the  great  importer  of  wines, 
was  another  of  the  marvels  of  old  London  Bridge  ;  he 
set  up  a  sign,  "  Thank  God,  I  am  Abel"  quoth  the  wag, 
and  had  in  front  of  his  house  the  sign  of  a  bell.  It  is 
possible  there  may  be  some  traditionary  authority  for 
this  story ;  but  in  the  very  rare  tracts  relating  to 
Alderman  Abel,  preserved  in  the  British  Museum, 
there  is  nothing  concerning  his  residence  on  London 
Bridge. 

The  same  chapter  contains  some  authentic  notices  of 
Artists  who  really  did  live  upon  the  venerable  edifice. 
Of  these,  one  of  the  most  eminent  was  Hans  Holbein, 
the  great  painter  of  the  court  of  Henry  VIII. ;  though 
we  can  hardly  suppose  that  he  inhabited  the  Nonesuch 
House,  yet  his  actual  residence  is  certified  by  Lord 
Orford,  in  his  Anecdotes  of  Painting,  as  follows:  "The 
father  of  the  Lord  Treasurer  Oxford,  passing  over 
London  Bridge,  was  caught  in  a  shower,  and  stepping 
into  a  goldsmith's  shop  for  shelter,  he  found  there  a 
picture  of  Holbein, — who  had  lived  in  that  house, — 
and  his  family.  He  offered  the  goldsmith  £100  for  it, 
who  consented  to  let  him  have  it,  but  desired  first  to 
show  it  to  some  persons.  Immediately  after  happened 
the  great  Fire  of  London,  and  the  picture  was  de- 
stroyed." 

Another  famous  artist  of  London  Bridge  was  Peter 
Monamy,  so  excellent  a  painter  of  marine  subjects  as 
to  be  considered  but  little  inferior  to  Vandevelde  him- 
self.    Lord  Orford  says  of  him,  that  "he  received  his 


Noted  Residents  on  Old  London  Bridge.  1 1 

first  rudiments  of  drawing  from  a  sign  and  house  painter 
on  London  Bridge:"  and  that  "the  shallow  waves  that 
rolled  under  his  window,  taught  young  Monamy  what 
his  master-  could  not  teach  him,  and  fitted  him  to  paint 
the  turbulence  of  the  ocean." 

Edwards,  in  his  Continuation  of  Walpole's  Anecdotes, 
tells  us  that  Dominic  Serres,  the  marine  painter,  who 
died  in  1793,  once  kept  shop  on  London  Bridge.  To 
these  may  be  added  Jack  Laguerre,  the  engraver,  a 
great  humourist,  wit,  singer,  player,  caricaturist,  mimic, 
and  a  good  scene-painter,  son  of  that  Louis  who  painted 
staircases  and  saloons,  where,  as  Pope  says,  "sprawl 
the  saints  of  Verrio  and  Laguerre."  His  residence  was 
on  the  first  floor  of  the  dwelling  of  a  waggish  book- 
seller and  author-of-all-work,  named  Crispin  Tucker, 
the  owner  of  half-a-shop,  on  the  east  side,  under  the 
southern  gate  of  the  Bridge.  The  artist's  studio  was 
chiefly  in  the  bow-window  in  a  back  room,  which  pro- 
jected over  the  Thames,  and  trembled  at  every  half-ebb 
tide.  Here  also  Hogarth  resided  in  his  early  life,  when 
he  engraved  for  old  John  Bowles,  at  the  Black  Horse, 
in  Cornhill.  His  studio  resembled,  we  are  told  in  Wine 
and  Walnuts,  "one  of  the  alchemist's  laboratories  from 
the  pencil  of  the  elder  Teniers.  It  was  a  complete, 
smoke-stained  confusionary,  with  a  German  stove, 
crucibles,  pipkins,  and  nests  of  drawers  with  rings  of 
twine  to  pull  them  out ;  here  a  box  of  asphaltum,  there 
glass-stoppered  bottles,  varnishes,  dabbers,  gravers, 
etching-tools,  walls  of  wax,  obsolete  copper-plates, 
many  engraved  on  both  sides,  and  poetry  scribbled  over 
the  walls ;  a  pallet  hung  up  as  an  heir-loom,  the  colours 
dry  upon  it,  hard  as  stone  ;  all  the  multifarious  arcanalia 
of  engraving,  and,  lastly,  a  Printing  Press ! "     And  in 


1 2  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

Wine  and  Walnuts  is  an  amusing  account  of  Dean 
Swift's  and  Pope's  visits  and  conversations  with  the 
noted  Crispin  Tucker. 

Not  only  the  ordinary  buildings  in  the  Bridge  Street, 
which  were  formerly  occupied  as  shops  and  warehouses, 
but  even  the  Chapel  of  St  Thomas,  which,  in  later 
years,  was  called  Chapel  House,  and  the  Nonesuch 
House,*  were  used  for  similar  purposes  before  they  were 
taken  down.  Dr  Ducarel  relates  that  the  house  over 
the  chapel  belonged  to  Mr  Baldwin,  haberdasher,  who 
was  born  there;  and  when,  at  seventy-one,  he  was 
ordered  to  go  to  Chislehurst  for  a  change  of  air,  he 
could  not  sleep  in  the  country,  for  want  of  the  "noise," 
the  roaring  and  rushing  of  the  tide  beneath  the  Bridge, 
"  he  had  always  been  used  to  hear."  We  gather  from 
the  Morning  Advertiser  for  April  26,  1798,  that  Alder- 
man Gill  and  Wright  had  been  in  partnership  upwards 
of  fifty  years  ;  and  that  their  shop  stood  on  the  centre  of 
London  Bridge,  and  their  warehouse  for  paper  was 
directly  under  it,  which  was  a  chapel  for  divine  service, 
in  one  of  the  old  arches ;  long  within  legal  memory,  the 
service  was  performed  here  every  Sabbath  and  Saint's- 
day.  Although  the  floor  was  always  at  high-water 
mark,  from  ten  to  twelve  feet  under  the  surface;  yet  such 
was  the  excellency  of  the  materials,  and  the  masonry, 
that  not  the  least  damp,  or  leak,  ever  happened,  and 
the  paper  was  kept  as  safe  and  dry  as  it  would  have 
been  in  a  garret. 

Again,  in   Seymour's   Survey  of  London  and   West- 

*  This  remarkable  house  was  constructed  in  Holland,  entirely  of  wood, 
and,  being  brought  over  in  pieces,  was  erected  on  London  Bridge  with 
wooden  pegs  only,  not  a  single  nail  being  used  in  the  whole  fabric.  It 
stood  near  the  northern  entrance  to  the  Bridge. 


Smitlificld  and  its  Tournaments.  1 3 

minster,  1734,  it  is  stated  that,  at  that  time,  one  side  of 
the  Nonesuch  House  was  inhabited  by  Mr  Bray,  a 
stationer,  and  the  other  by  Mr  Wed,  a  drysalter. 

Sin  it /ificld  and  its  Tournaments. 

Many  remarkable  Tournaments  are  recorded  as  having 
taken  place  at  Smithfield,  especially  during  the  reign 
of  Edward  I  IT.  Here  that  warlike  monarch  frequently 
entertained  with  feats  of  arms  his  illustrious  captives, 
the  kings  of  France  and  Scotland;  and  here,  in  1374, 
towards  the  close  of  his  long  reign — when  the  charms 
of  Alice  Pierce  had  infatuated  the  doting  monarch — he 
sought  to  gratify  his  beautiful  mistress  by  rendering 
her  the  "  observed  of  all  observers/'  at  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  tournaments  of  which  we  have  any  record. 
Gazing  with  rapture  on  her  transcendant  beauty,  he 
conferred  on  her  the  title  of  "  Lady  of  the  Sun  ; "  and 
taking  her  by  the  hand,  in  all  the  blaze  of  jewels  and 
loveliness,  led  her  from  the  royal  apartments  in  the 
Tower  to  a  triumphal  chariot,  in  which  he  took  place 
by  her  side.  The  procession  which  followed  consisted 
of  the  rank  and  beauty  of  the  land,  each  lady  being 
mounted  on  a  beautiful  palfrey,  and  having  her  bridle 
held  by  a  knight  on  horseback. 

A  still  more  magnificent  tournament — for  invitations 
had  been  sent  to  the  flower  of  chivalry  at  all  the  courts 
of  Europe — was  held  at  Smithfield  in  the  succeeding 
reign  of  Richard  II.  The  opening  festivities  are  graphi- 
cally painted  by  Froissart,  who  was  not  improbably  a 
witness  of  the  gorgeous  scene  he  describes.  "At  three 
o'clock  on  the  Sunday  after  Michaelmas-day,  the  cere- 
mony   began.       Sixty   horses    in    rich    trappings,    each 


14  Romance  of  London. 

mounted  by  an  esquire  of  honour,  were-  seen  advancing 
in  a  stately  pace  from  the  Tower  of  London  ;  sixty  ladies 
of  rank,  dressed  in  the  richest  elegance  of  the  day,  fol- 
lowed on  their  palfreys,  one  after  another,  each  leading 
by  a  sirVer  chain  a  knight  completely  armed  for  tilting. 
Minstrels  and  trumpets  accompanied  them  to  Smithfield 
amidst  the  shouting  population  ;  there  the  queen  and 
her  fair  train  received  them.  The  ladies  dismounted, 
and  withdrew  to  their  allotted  seats  ;  while  the  knights 
mounted  their  steeds,  laced  their  helmets,  and  prepared 
for  the  encounter.  They  tilted  each  other  till  dark. 
They  all  then  adjourned  to  a  sumptuous  banquet,  and 
dancing  consumed  the  night,  till  fatigue  compelled  every 
one  to  seek  repose.  The  next  day  the  warlike  sport 
commenced ;  many  were  unhorsed ;  many  lost  their 
helmets  ;  but  they  all  persevered  with  eager  courage  and 
emulation,  till  night  again  summoned  them  to  their 
supper,  dancing,  and  concluding  rest.  The  festivities* 
were  again  repeated  on  the  third  day."  The  court 
subsequently  removed  to  Windsor,  where  King  Richard 
renewed  his  splendid  hostilities,  and  at  their  conclusion 
dismissed  his  foreign  guests  with  many  valuable  presents. 
This  picturesque  scene  is  from  the  pen  of  Captain  Jesse. 

Planta?enet  Pigs. 

We  gather  from  The  Guildhall  White  Book,  lately  tran- 
slated and  published  by  the  suggestion  of  the  Master  of 
the  Rolls,  the  following  curious  regulations  as  to  the 
City  Pigs  in  the  fifteenth  century  : — 

Pork  seems  to  have  been  (141 2)  more  extensively 
consumed  than  any  other  kind  of  butchers'-meat,  judging 
from  the  frequent  mention  of  swine,  and  the  laws  about 


Plantagenet  Pigs.  15 

them,  living  and  dead.  "  Lean  swine  "  are  named  as 
frequentors  of  Smithfield  Market,  apparently  as  a  means 
of  improving  their  condition.  In  Edward  Longshanks's 
days,  persons  living  in  the  City  were  allowed  to  keep 
swine  "  within  their  houses/'  with  as  free  a  rSnge  as 
that  porcine  pet  of  the  Irish  schoolmaster.  But  these 
Plantagenet  pigs  were  not  to  occupy  sties  that  encroached 
on  the  streets.  At  a  later  day,  the  permission  to  keep 
them  even  within  one's  house  would  seem  to  have  been 
limited,  as  we  have  seen,  to  master-bakers ;  and  it  seems 
to  have  been  at  all  times  a  standing  rule,  that  swine  were 
not  to  be  allowed  to  roam  about  the  streets,  fosses,  lanes, 
or  suburbs  of  the  City.  If  an.  erring  specimen  was 
found,  grunting  along  his  solitary  way,  defiant  of  statutes 
and  ordinances  in  such  cases  made  and  provided,  then 
might  such  vagrant  porker,  whether  straying  in  the  mere 
naughtiness  of  his  heart,  or  compelled  by  hunger,  be 
lawfully  slain  by  whatsoever  citizen  lighted  on  him  in 
his  vagabondage, — said  citizen  being  also  at  liberty  to 
retain  what  had  been  pig  but  was  now  pork,  the  carcase 
whole  and  entire  ;  unless,  indeed,  the  pig's  sometime 
owner  bought  it  of  him  at  a  stipulated  sum.  Not  even 
this  license  for  any  citizen  to  kill  any  stray  pig  was 
considered  effectual  enough  to  answer  the  legislative 
purpose.  The  vagrant  propensity  that  emptied  so  many 
a  sty  of  its  denizen  became  a  nuisance  ;  for  we  read  that 
early  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  four  men  were  "  chosen 
and  sworn  to  take  and  kill  all  swine  found  wandering 
within  the  walls  of  the  City,  to  whomsoever  they  might 
belong."  We  find,  however,  that  the  Renter  of  St 
Anthony's  Hospital  (the  patron  Saint  of  swine)'  was  "  a 
privileged  person  "  in  this  respect,  though  his  honesty 
was  impeachable,  since  he  had  to  make  oath  that  he 


1 6  Romance  of  London. 

would  not  "  avow  any  swine  found  at  large  in  the  City," 
nor  "  hang  any  bells  around  their  necks,  but  only  around 
those  pigs  which  have  been  given  them  in  pure  alms." 


"  Whittington  and  his  Cat!' 

The  nursery  tale  of  the  poor  boy,  who  rose  to  be  a 
wealthy  merchant  and  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  chiefly 
through  a  large  cum  of  money  obtained  for  him  by  the 
sale  of  a  cat,  is  a  proven  fiction ;  and  we  have  to  seek 
some  other  explanation  of  this  special  wonder.  Mr 
Keightley  has  well  observed  there  were  tales  of  a  similar 
nature  current  both  before  and  at  Whittington's  date, 
in  several  other  countries  —  in  South  America,  in 
Denmark,  in  Tuscany,  in  Venice,  and  in  Persia.  During 
the  Middle  Ages,  and,  doubtless,  at  other  periods,  there 
were  current  a  multitude  of  tales  and  stories  belonging 
to  no  individual,  but  perfectly  fabulous,  but  which  the 
popular  mind  was  continually  fixing  upon  persons  who 
had  rendered  themselves  remarkable,  as  a  manner  of 
expressing  the  popular  appreciation  of  their  character, 
or  explanation  of  the  means  by  which  they  gained  it. 
Hence  the  same  story  is  told  of  different  persons,  at 
different  periods,  and  in  different  countries.  Such  was 
the  origin  of  the  story  of  Whittington  and  his  Cat.  Its 
incidents  were  not  possible  in  Whittington's  time,  but 
they  sfre  exactly  in  accordance  with  the  sentiments  and 
state  of  things  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  when,  as  far  as 
the  Whittington  story  is  concerned,  it  seems  to  have 
originated. 

Still  some  curious  facts  are  adduced  in  support  of  the 
legend.     Mr  Deputy  Lott,  F.S.A.,  in  a  paper  read  by 


"  Whittington  arid  his  Cat?  \y 

him    to    the   London    and    Middlesex    Archaeological 
Society,  says : — 

"  At  Mercers'  Hall,  is  a  portrait  on  canvas  of  a  man 
about  sixty  years  of  age,  in  a  fine  livery  gown  and  black 
cap  of  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  such  as  Yeomen  of  the 
Guard  now  wear.  The  figure  reaches  about  half  the 
length  of  the  arms  from  the  shoulders  ;  on  the  left  hand 
of  the  figure  is  a  black  and  white  cat,  whose  right  ear 
reaches  up  to  the  band  or  broad  turning-down  of  the 
skirt  of  the  figure  ;  on  the  left  hand  upper  corner  of  the 
canvas  is  painted  '  R.  Whittington,  1536.'  The  size  of 
the  canvas  of  this  portrait  has  for  some  reason  been 
altered,  and  the  inscription  has  evidently  been  painted 
since  the  alteration  ;  yet  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  it 
was  then  invented,  and  if  not,  it  carries  the  vulgar 
ooinion  of  some  connection  between  Whittington  and  a 
cat  as  far  back  as  1536.  From  the  portrait  being  on 
canvas,  it  must  have  been  painted  at  a  much  later  period 
than  the  date  it  bears. 

"  But   there    is    an    engraved    portrait   by    Reginald 

Elstrack,  who  flourished  in  1590,  in  which  Whittington's 

hand  rests  on  a  cat:  this  print  was  executed  towards  the 

end  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  when  we  know  the  story 

existed,  and  was  probably  then  invented.    Elstrack  first 

engraved  Whittington  with  his  hand  on  a  scull,  evidently 

not  knowing  or  despising  the  legend  ;  but  persons  would 

not  buy  this  print  until  the  cat  was  substituted  for  the 

scull  :    the   cat   had    then    become   popular.       Neither 

Grafton  nor  Holinshed  says  anything  of  the  legendary 

history  of  Sir  Richard  Whittington  :  but  it  must  have 

been  current  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth ;  for  in  the  first 

scene  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Knight  of  the  Burning 

Pestle  (161 3),   the  citizen  says  to  the  prologue,  'Why 
vol.  1.  B 


1 8  Romance  of London. 

could  you  not  be  contented,  as  well  as  others,  with  the 
legend  of  Whittington  ? '  The  word  '  legend '  in  this 
place  would  seem  to  indicate  the  story  of  the  cat.  Cats, 
as  we  know,  fetched  a  high  price  in  America  when  it 
was  first  colonised  by  the  Spaniards.  Two  cats,  we  are 
told,  were  taken  out  as  a  speculation  to  Cuyaba,  where 
there  was  a  plague  of  rats,  and  they  were  sold  for  a 
pound  of  gold.  Their  first  kittens  fetched  each  thirty 
pieces  of  eight,  the  next  generation  not  more  than 
twenty,  and  the  price  gradually  fell  as  the  colony  became 
stocked  with  these.  The  elder  Almagro  is  said  to  have 
given  600  pieces  of  eight  to  the  person  who  presented 
him  with  the  first  cat  which  was  brought  from  South 
America." 

It  is  strange  what  a  propensity  the  vulgar  have  for 
applying  some  other  cause  than  industry,  frugality,  and 
skill,  seconded  by  good  fortune  (the  usual  and  general 
road,  I  believe,  to  wealth),  to  the  acquisition  of  riches. 
I  hardly  ever  knew,  says  Mr  Lott,  in  my  own  country, 
an  instance  of  the  attainment  to  opulence  by  a  man 
who,  as  the  phrase  goes,  had  risen  from  nothing,  that 
there  was  not  some  extraordinary  mode  of  accounting 
for  it  circulated  among  the  vulgar. 

In  Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  by  W.  Chappell, 
F.S.A.,  is  the  following: — "The  earliest  notice  of  'Turn 
again,  Whittington,'  as  a  tune — if  a  mere  change  of 
bells  may  come  under  that  denomination — is  in  Shirley's 
Constant  Maid,  Act  II.  Scene  2,  1640,  where  the  niece 
says : — 

"  '  Faith,  how  many  churches  do  you  mean  to  build 
Before  you  die  ?     Six  bells  in  every  steeple, 
And  let  them  all  go  to  the  City  tune, 
"Turn  again,  Whittington," — who  they  say 


"Whittington  and  his  Cat."  19 

Grew  rich,  and  let  his  land  out  for  nine  lives 
'Cause  all  came  in  by  a  cat.'  " 

A  ballad  was  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  a  few  months 
later,  then  a  drama  on  the  same  subject. 

The  imputed  "  low  birth "  of  Whittington  is  more 
distinctly  disproved  :  he  is  shown  to  have  descended 
from  the  Whittingtons,  who  were  owners  of  land  in 
Gloucestershire,  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Edward  I.;  their 
estate  being  at  Pauntley,  where,  in  the  church,  are 
emblazoned  the  arms  of  Whittington,  impaling  Warren, 
"thus  closely  identifying  our  hero,  whose  wife  was  Alice 
Fitzwarren,  with  the  Pauntley  family  beyond  dispute." 
It  is  equally  certain  that  Richard  Whittington  was  the 
son  of  Sir  Richard  Wrhittington.  That  he  rose  early  to 
wealth  and  civic  honours,  and  was  four  times  Lord 
Mayor  of  London,  is  proved  by  the  municipal  records. 
He  rebuilt  a  church,  founded  a  college,  and  was  altogether 
a  munificent  citizen.  In  his  third  mayoralty,  1419,  he 
entertained  Henry  of  Agincourt,  and  his  bride,  Catherine 
of  France.  Never  before  did  a  merchant  display  such 
magnificence  as  was  then  exhibited  in  the  Guildhall, 
whether  the  account  of  precious  stones  to  reflect  the  light 
of  the  chandeliers,  choicest  fish,  exquisite  birds,  delicate 
meats,  choirs  of  beautiful  females,  wine-conduits,  rare 
confections,  and  precious  metals,  be  at  all  constrained, 
is  problematical.  "  Surely,"  cried  the  amazed  king, 
"never  had  a  prince  such  a  subject.  Even  the  fires  are 
filled  with  perfumes." — "If  your  highness,"  said  Sir 
Richard,  "  inhibit  me  not,  I  will  make  these  fires  still 
more  grateful."  As  he  ceased  speaking,  and  the  king 
nodding,  acquiesced,  he  drew  forth  a  packet  of  bonds, 
and,  advancing  to  the  fire,  resumed,  "Thus  do  I  acquit 
your  highness  of  a  debt  of  .£60,000." 


20  Romance  of  London. 

In  1389,  Whittington  superintended  the  festivities  of 
a  masked  tournament  in  Smithfield,  lately  the  scene  of 
a  rebel  tumult.  "  Those  who  came  in  the  king's  party," 
says  Fabian,  "  had  their  armour  and  apparel  garnished 
with  white  harts,  that  had  crowns  of  gold  about  their 
necks.  Twenty-four  thus  appareled  led  the  horses  of 
the  same  number  of  ladies  by  chains  of  gold.  The 
jousts  continued  four  days,  in  the  presence  of  the  king, 
the  queen,  and  the  whole  court,  his  Majesty  himself 
giving  proofs  of  his  skill  and  dexterity.  During  the 
whole  time  open  house  was  kept,  at  the  king's  expense, 
at  the  Bishop  of  London's  palace,  for  the  entertainment 
of  all  persons  of  distinction." 

To  return  to  the  Cat :  there  is  still  another  explana- 
tion. Richard  Gough,  the  antiquary,  believes  that  the 
cat,  if  not  a  rebus  for  some  ship  by  which  Whittington 
made  his  fortune,  was  the  companion  of  his  arm-chair, 
like  Montaigne's. 

The  subject  is  treated  with  excellent  humour  by 
Foote,  in  his  comedy  of  the  Nabob,  where  he  makes  Sir 
Matthew  Mite  satirically  thus  address  the  Society  of 
Antiquaries  : — 

"  The  point  I  mean  to  clear  up  is  an  error  crept  into 
the  life  of  that  illustrious  magistrate,  the  great  Whit- 
tington, and  his  no  less  eminent  cat  :  and  in  this  dis- 
quisition four  material  points  are  in  question  : — 1st.  Did 
Whittington  ever  exist  ?  2d.  Was  Whittington  Lord 
Mayor  of  London  ?  3d.  Was  he  really  possessed  of  a 
cat  ?  4th.  Was  that  cat  the  source  of  his  wealth  ?  That 
Whittington  lived,  no  doubt  can  be  made ;  that  he  was 
Lord  Mayor  of  London  is  equally  true  ;  but  as  to  his 
cat,  that,  gentlemen,  is  the  Gordian  Knot  to  untie.  And 
here,  gentlemen,  be  it  permitted  me  to  define  what  a 


"'  Whittington  and  his  Cat."  2 1 


'& 


cat  is.  A  cat  is  a  domestic,  whiskered,  four-footed 
animal,  whose  employment  is  catching-  of  mice  ;  but  let 
puss  have  been  ever  so  subtle,  let  puss  have  been  ever 
so  successful,  to  what  could  puss's  captures  amount  ?  No 
tanner  can  curry  the  skin  of  a  mouse,  no  family  make  a 
meal  of  the  meat ;  consequently,  no  cat  could  give 
Whittington  his  wealth.  From  whence,  then,  does  this 
error  proceed  ?  Be  that  my  care  to  point  out.  The 
commerce  this  worthy  merchant  carried  on  was  chiefly 
confined  to  our  coasts :  for  this  purpose  he  constructed 
a  vessel,  which,  for  its  agility  and  lightness,  he  aptly 
christened  a  cat.  Nay,  to  this  our  day,  gentlemen,  all 
our  coals  from  Newcastle  are  imported  in  nothing  but 
cats.  From  thence,  it  appears,  that  it  was  not  the 
whiskered,  four-footed,  mouse-killing  cat,  that  was  the 
source  of  the  magistrate's  wealth ;  but  the  coasting, 
sailing,  coal-carrying  cat :  that,  gentlemen,  was  Whit- 
tington's  cat." 

There  is  a  strange  mixture  of  banter  with  fact  in  the 
above  passage.  Now,  when  Whittington  was  yet  a  boy, 
the  burning  of  coal  was  considered  such  a  public 
nuisance  that  it  was  prohibited  by  Act  of  Parliament 
under  pain  of  death  ;  but,  singular  enough,  by  the  time 
he  had  been  thrice  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  1418,  the 
importation  of  coal  formed  a  considerable  branch  of  the 
commerce  of  the  Thames  ;  and  although  a  person  was 
once  executed  for  a  breach  of  this  law,  it  is  supposed 
that  a  dispensation  was  made  in  Whittington's  favour  ; 
for  from  the  first  opening  of  the  coal  trade  in  England, 
and  for  ages  after,  it  had  a  reputation  for  making  for- 
tunes only  exceeded  by  that  of  the  mines  of  Golconda 
and  Peru.  The  catta,  or  collier,  is,  to  this  day,  called  a 
cat. 


22  Romance  of  London. 

The  spot  at  Highgate  Hill,  whereon  the  legend  states 
Whittington  stopped  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  Bow 
Bells,  which  he  imagined  prophesied  his  becoming  Lord 
Mayor,  is  believed  to  have  been  originally  the  site  of  a 
wayside  cross,  belonging  to  the  formerly  adjacent  lazar- 
house,  or  hospital,  and  Chapel  of  St  Anthony ;  this 
memorial  was  removed,  and  Whittington  is  stated  to  have 
placed  there  an  obelisk,  surmounted  by  a  cross,  which 
remained  until  1795,  when  was  erected  another  stone, 
which  has  since  been  twice  renewed.  The  hospital 
cross  would  thus  appear  to  have  suggested  the  Whit- 
tington monument,  which  popular  belief  has,  from 
time  to  time,  renewed. 

The  greatest  similitude  of  the  Cat  story  is  found  in 
the  Eastern  fable.  Sir  William  Gore  Ouseley  relates, 
on  the  authority  of  a  Persian  MS.,  that,  in  the  tenth 
century,  one  Keis,  the  son  of  a  poor  widow  in  Siraf, 
embarked  for  India,  with  his  sole  property,  a  cat.  There 
he  fortunately  arrived  at  a  time  when  the  palace  was 
so  infested  by  mice,  or  rats,  that  they  carried  off  the 
king's  food,  and  persons  were  employed  to  drive  them 
from  the  royal  banquet.  Keis  produced  his  cat,  the 
noxious  animals  soon  disappeared :  and  magnificent 
rewards  were  bestowed  on  the  adventurer  of  Siraf,  who 
returned  to  that  city* 


Crosby  Place,  Shakspeare,  and  Richard  III. 

THIS    interesting    domestic    mansion,    in    Bishopsgate 
Street,  presents  a  specimen  of  architecture  which  is  as 

*  The  Rev.  Mr  Lysons,  in  his  ingenious  volume  upon  this  inquiry, 
favours  the  legendary  origin. 


Crosby  Place,  Shakspcare,  and  Richard  III.         23 

good  as  any  perpendicular  work  remaining  of  the  kind  ; 
it  was  commenced  building  by  Sir  John  Crosbie,  about 
1470 ;  and  scarcely  was  it  completed  before  its  munifi- 
cent founder  died.  Stow  describes  the  mansion  as 
"  built  of  stone  and  timber,  very  large  and  beautiful,  and 
the  highest  at  that  time  in  London."  Eight  years 
subsequent  to  Crosbie's  death,  1483,  we  find  in  posses- 
sion no  less  a  person  than  Richard  Plantagenet,  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  afterwards  King  Richard  III.  He  was, 
probably,  a  tenant  under  Sir  John  Crosbie's  executors. 
Arriving  in  London  on  the  4th  of  May  1483,  Fabian 
tells  us,  the  Duke  caused  the  king  to  be  removed  to  the 
Tower,  and  the  Duke  lodged  himself  in  Crosby  Place. 
We  learn  also  from  Holinshed  that  "  by  little  and  little 
all  folke  withdrew  from  the  Tower,  and  drew  unto 
Crosbie's  in  Bishopsgate  Street,  where  the  Protector  kept 
his  household.  The  Protector  had  the  resort ;  the  king 
in  manner  desolate."  Here,  according  to  tradition,  the 
crown  was  offered  to  him  by  the  mayor  and  citizens  on 
the  25th  of  June  1483.  On  the  27th  he  was  proclaimed  ; 
and  on  the  following  day  he  left  Crosby  Place  for  his 
palace  of  Westminster. 

From  the  circumstance  of  Richard's  residence  here 
(says  the  Rev.  T.  Hugo),  this  mansion  derives  one  of  its 
special  attractions.  Not  simply,  however,  from  the  fact 
itself,  but  from  the  notice  which  it  has  on  this  account 
received  from  one,  who  has  only  to  make  a  place  the 
scene  of  his  matchless  impersonations  in  order  to  confer 
on  it  an  immortality  of  interest.  In  this  manner,  one 
greater  than  Richard  Plantagenet  has  done  that  for 
Crosby  Place,  which  the  mere  fact  that  it  was  the  home 
of  a  king  would  not  of  itself  impart.  Thrice  in  the  play 
of  Richard   III.,  our  own  Shakspeare  has  referred  to  it 


24  Romance  of  London. 

by  name.  First,  in  Act  I.  Scene  2,  we  have  the  Duke, 
reconciled  at  length  to  the  Lady  Anne,  thus  addressing 
her  : — 

If  thy  poor  devoted  servant  may 
But  beg  one  favour  at  thy  gracious  hand, 
Thou  dost  confirm  his  happiness  for  ever. 

Anne.  What  is  it? 

Glo.  That  it  may  please  you  leave  these  sad  designs 
To  him  that  hath  more  cause  to  be  a  mourner, 
And  presently  repair  to  Crosby  Place  ; 
Where — after  I  have  solemnly  interred, 
At  Chertsey  monastery,  this  noble  king, 
And  wet  his  grave  with  my  repentant  tears, — 
I  will  with  all  expedient  duty  see  you. 

The  reunion  was  here  (we  will  not  censure  the  slight 
anachronism  on  the  poet's  part),  and  it  led  to  Glouces- 
ter's marriage  with  the  lady  whose  vituperation  of  him 
had  been  so  unmeasured. 

In  another  scene,  3,  Act  I.,  where  he  commissions  his 
assassins  to  murder  Clarence,  he  adds — 

When  you  have  done,  repair  to  Crosby  Place. 

And  again,  in  Act  III.  Scene  1,  with  Buckingham  and 
Catesby,  where  Gloucester  sends  the  letter  to  sound 
Hastings  with  reference  to  his  designs  upon  the  crown, 
he  says  at  parting — 

Shall  we  hear  from  you,  Cates-by,  ere  we  sleep  s 
Catcshy.  You  shall,  my  lord. 
Glo.  At  Crosby  Place,  there  shall  you  find  us  both. 

Come,  let  us  sup  betimes  ;  that  afterwards 
We  may  digest  our  complots  in  some  form 

Here  the  supper  was  eaten,  and  the  complots  were 
digested.  Crosby  Place,  Shakspeare,  and  Richard,  are 
thus  identified.     It  has  been  said  that  "  the  reason  why 


Crosby  Place,  Shakspeare,  and  Richard  III.        25 

this  building  received  the  attention  which  it  has  from 
Shakspeare,  was  from  some  association  existing  in  his 
own  mind."  Doubtless  ;  but  the  writer  considers  that 
"it  is  not  too  much  to  suppose  that  he  had  been  admitted 
in  the  humble  guise  of  a  player  to  entertain  the  guests 
having  assembled  in  the  banqueting  hall,"  and  had  thus 
seen  and  admired  its  beauties.  This  Mr  Hugo  is  dis- 
posed to  regard  as  a  most  gratuitous  fancy.  We  are  in- 
debted to  Mr  Hunter,  in  his  interesting  illustrations  of 
the^  life,  studies,  and  writings  of  Shakspeare,  for  the 
knowledge  of  the  fact  that,  by  an  assessment'  of  the  date 
of  October  1,  1598,  the  40th  of  Elizabeth,  Shakspeare  is 
proved  to  have  been  an  inhabitant  of  the  parisli  of  St 
He/ens,  in  which  Crosby  Place  is  situated.  He  is 
assessed  in  the  sum  of  £$,  13J.  4d.,  not  an  inconsiderable 
sum  in  those  days.  Distinguished  by  the  special  favour 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  successor,  the  personal  friend 
of  such  men  as  Southampton,  Pembroke,  and  Mont- 
gomery, the  "  star  of  poets  "  was  often,  it  is  hoped,  a 
welcome  visitor  at  Crosby  Place,  and  looked  up  at  those 
graceful  timbers,  and  that  elegant  oriel,  from  an  honoured 
seat  at  the  high  table.  The  lady  who  tenanted  the 
house  during  some  of  the  best  known  years  of  Shak- 
speare's  life  was  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Pembroke, 
Sydney's  sister,  Pembroke's  mother,  immortalised  by 
rare  Ben  Jonson  :  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
"gentle"  Will  found  himself  here  not  unfrequently, 
and  ever  as  a  caressed  and  honoured  guest. —  Trans- 
actions of  the  London  and  Middlesex  A rclicso logical 
Society. 


Romance  of  London. 


Sorrows  of  Sanctuary. 

The  histories  of  the  privileged  precincts  in  the  me- 
tropolis, known  as  sanctuaries,  have  many  touching 
episodes.  Thus,  Miss  Halsted,  in  her  historical  memoir 
on  Richard  III.,  relates,  that  "To  sanctuary  Richard 
of  Gloucester  removed  the  Lady  Anne,  when,  says  the 
chronicler  of  Croyland,  he  '  discovered  the  maiden  in 
the  attire  of  a  kitchen-girl  in  London,'  in  which  degrad- 
ing garb  Clarence  had  concealed  her ;  and  Gloucester 
'caused  her  to  be  placed  in  the  Sanctuary  of  St  Mar- 
tin,' while  he  openly  and  honourably  sought  from  the 
king  his  assent  to  their  marriage.  The  Lady  Anne 
had  been  the  playmate  of  Gloucester's  childhood,  and 
the  object  of  his  youthful  affections.  Before  either  had 
passed  the  age  of  minority,  she  had  drunk  deeply  of  the 
cup  of  adversity ;  from  being  the  affianced  bride  of  the 
heir-apparent  to  the  throne,  and  receiving  homage  at  the 
French  court  as  Princess  of  Wales,  she  was  degraded 
to  assume  the  disguise  of  a  kitchen  girl  in  London, 
reduced  to  utter  poverty  by  the  attainder  of  herself  and 
parents.  Such  was  the  condition  of  Warwick's  proud 
but  destitute  child,  the  ill-fated  co-heiress  of  the  Nevilles, 
the  Beauchamps,  the  Despencers,  and  in  whose  veins 
flowed  the  blood  of  the  highest  and  noblest  in  the  land. 
The  Croyland  historian  exonerates  Richard  from  the 
unfounded  charge  of  seeking  the  affection  of  '  young 
Edward's  bride '  before  the  tears  of  '  widowhood  '  had 
ceased  to  flow ;  and  equally  so  of  his  outraging  a 
custom  most  religiously  and  strictly  observed  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  which  rendered  it  an  offence  against 
the  Church  and  society  at  large  for  '  a  widow '  to  espouse 


Sorrows  of  Sanctuary.  27 

a  second   time  before  the  first  year  of  mourning  had 
expired." 

The  Sanctuary  of  Westminster,  the  precinct  under 
the  protection  of  the  abbot  and  monks  of  Westminster, 
adjoined  Westminster  Abbey,  on  the  west  and  north 
sides.  In  this  sanctuary,  Edward  V.  was  "  born  in 
sorrow,  and  baptized  like  a  poor  man's  child."  In  1483, 
her  cause  being  lost,  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  having 
seized  the  young  Edward,  the  queen  "  gate  herself  in  all 
the  hast  possible,  with  her  yoonger  son  and  her 
daughters,  out  of  the  palace  of  Westminster,  in  which 
she  then  lay,  into  the  sanctuarie,  lodging  herself  and  her 
company  there  in  the  abbot's  place."  When  the  Arch- 
bishop came  from  York  Place  to  deliver  the  Great  Seal 
to  her,  he  arrived  before  day.  "  About  her  he  found 
much  heavinesse,  rumble,  hast,  and  businesse,  carriage 
and  conveiance  of  her  stuffe  into  sanctuarie,  chests, 
coffers,  packers,  fardels,  trussed  all  on  men's  backes,  no 
man  unoccupied,  some  lading,  some  going,  some  dis- 
charging, some  comming  for  more,  some  breaking  downe 
the  wals  to  bring  in  the  next  way.  The  Queen  herselfe 
sate  alone  on  the  rushes  all  desolate  and  dismaied,  whom 
the  Archbishop  comforted  in  the  best  manner  he  could, 
shewing  her  that  he  trusted  the  matter  was  nothing  so 
sore  as  she  tooke  it  for,  and  that  he  was  put  in  good 
hope  and  out  of  fearebythe  message  sent  him  from  the 
Lord  Chamberlaine."  "Ah  !  wo  worth  him,"  quoth  she, 
"  for  he  is  one  of  them  that  laboureth  to  destroy  me  and 
my  blood."  The  Archbishop  returned  "  yet  in  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  day,  by  which  time  he  might  in  his  chamber- 
window  see  all  the  Thames  full  of  boates  of  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester's  servants,  watching  that  no  man  should  go 
to  sanctuary,  nor  none  pass  unsearched."     Soon  after, 


28  Romance  of  London. 

the  Cardinal  and  the  Lords  of  the  Council  came  from 
the  treacherous  Protector,  desiring  her  to  surrender  up 
her  child.  "  She  verilie  thought  she  could  not  keepe  him 
there,  nowe  besett  in  such  places  aboute.  At  the  last, 
shee  tooke  the  yoong  Duke  by  the  hand,  and  said  unto 
the  Lordes,  '  Heere  I  diliver  him,  and  his  brother  in 
him,  to  keepe,  into  your  handes,  of  whome  I  shall  aske 
them  both  afore  God  and  the  worlde.'  ....  There- 
withall  shee  said  unto  the  child,  '  Farewell !  mine  owne 
sweete  sonne,  God  sende  you  good  keeping;  let  mee 
kisse  you  yet  once  ere  you  goe,  for  God  knoweth  when 
wee  shall  kisse  together  againe.'  And  therewith  shee 
kissed  him,  and  blessed  him,  turned  her  backe  and 
wept,  and  went  her  waie,  leaving  the  child  weeping  ar 
faste." 

The  Hungcrfords  at  Charing  Cross. 

The  histories  of  the  noble  houses  which  anciently 
skirted  the  northern  bank  of  the  Thames,  between 
London  Bridge  and  Westminster,  present  many  dark 
deeds,  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  and  terrible  enormities 
of  crime.  One  of  these  mansions  was  centuries  ago  a 
portion  of  the  possessions  of  the  Hungerfords  of  Wilt- 
shire ;  and,  although  the  face  of  the  property  was 
materially  changed  two  centuries  ago,  the  Hungerford 
name  lingered  in  the  market,  bridge,  and  street,  until 
1864. 

Nearly  three  centuries  and  a  half  ago,  one  of  this 
family,  Dame  Agnes  Hungerford,  was  attainted  of 
murder,  her  goods  were  forfeited  to  the  king's  grace, 
and  the  lady  suffered  execution  at  Tybourn,  on  the 
20th  of  February  1523,  and  was  buried  in  the  church 


The  Hungerfords  at  Charing  Cross.  29 

of  the  Grey  Friars,  of  which  we  have  the  following 
record  in  their  chronicle:  "And  this  yere  in  feverelle 
the  xxth  day  was  the  lady  Alys  Hungrford  was  lede 
from  the  Tower  unto  Holborne,  and  there  put  into  a 
carte  at  the  churchyard  with  one  of  her  servanttes,  and 
so  caryed  unto  Tyborne,  and  there  both  hongyd,  and 
she  burryed  at  the  Gray  freeres,  in  the  nether  end  of 
the  myddes  of  the  church  on  the  North  syde." 

A  great  mystery  hangs  about  the  records  of  this 
heinous  crime.  Stow  states  that  the  lady  died  for 
murdering  her  husband,  which  is  by  no  means  clear. 
No  other  Alice  Lady  Hungerford,  identifiable  with 
the  culprit,  could  be  discovered  but  the  second  of  the 
three  wives  of  Sir  Walter,  who  was  summoned  to  Par- 
liament as  Lord  Hungerford  of  Heytesbury,  in  1536; 
and,  considering  that  the  extreme  cruelty  of  that  person 
to  all  his  wives  is  recorded  in  a  letter  written  by  the 
third  and  last  of  them,  and  that  his  career  was  at  last 
terminated  with  the  utmost  disgrace  in  1540,  when  he 
was  beheaded  (suffering  at  the  same  time  as  the  fallen 
minister,  Thomas  Cromwell,  Earl  of  Essex),  it  was 
deemed  not  improbable  that  the  unfortunate  lady 
might  have  been  condemned  for  some  desperate  attempt 
upon  the  life  of  so  bad  a  husband  which  had  not  actually 
effected  its  object,  or  even  that  her  life  and  character  had 
been  sacrificed  to  a  false  and  murderous  accusation. 

In  this  state  the- mystery  remained  until  the  discovery 
of  the  inventory  of  the  goods  of  the  lady  attainted  ; 
when,  although  the  particulars  of  the  tragedy  remain 
still  undeveloped,  we  find  that  the  culprit  must  have 
been  a  different  person  from  the  lady  already  noticed  ; 
and  the  murdered  man,  if  her  husband,  of  course  not 
the  Lord  Walter. 


30  Romance  of  London. 

It  is  ascertained  by  the  document  before  us,  that  the 
Lady  Hungerford  who  was  hung  at  Tybourn  on  the 
23d  of  February  1523,  was  really  a  widow,  and  that  she 
was  certainly  attainted  of  felony  and  murder;  moreover, 
that  her  name  was  Agnes,  not  Alice,  as  stated  in  the 
Grey  Friars'  chronicle.  This  inventory  further  shows 
that  the  parties  were  no  other  than  the  heads  of  the 
Hungerford  family;  and  it  is  made  evident  that  the  lady 
was  the  widow  of  Sir  Edward  Hungerford,  the  father  of 
Walter,  Lord  Hungerford,  already  mentioned  ;  and  we 
are  led  to  infer  that  it  was  Sir  Edward  himself  who  had 
been  poisoned  or  otherwise  murdered  by  her  agency. 
It  is  a  remarkable  feature  of  the  inventory,  that  many 
items  of  it  are  described  in  the  first  person,  and  con- 
sequently from  the  lady's  own  dictation  ;  and  towards 
the  end  is  a  list  of  "the  rayment  of  my  husband's,  which 
is  in  the  keping  of  my  son-in-lawe."  By  this  expression 
is  to  be  understood  step-son,  and  that  the  person  so 
designated  was  Sir  Walter  Hungerford,  Sir  Edward's 
son  and  heir.  From  this  conclusion  it  follows  that  the 
lady  was  not  Sir  Walter's  mother,  who  appears  in  the 
pedigree  as  Jane,  daughter  of  John  Lord  Zouche  of 
Haryngworth,  but  a  second  wife,  whose  name  has  not 
been  recorded  by  the  genealogists  of  the  family. 

To  this  circumstance  must  be  attributed  much  of  the 
difficulty  that  hag  hitherto  enveloped  this  investigation. 
The  lady's  origin  and  maiden  name  are  still  unknown. 
The  inventory  describes  her  as  '"''Agnes,  Lady  Hunger- 
ford, zvydozve ;"  and  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  she 
was  the  second  wife  of  Sir  Edward  Hungerford,  of 
Heytesbury,  who,  in  his  will,  after  bequeathing  small 
legacies  to  churches  and  friends,  gives  the  residue  of  his 
goods  to  "Agnes  Hungerforde  my  wife." 


The  Hutigerfords  at  Charing-  Cross.  3 1 

But  though  the  inventory  assists  materially  in  clearing 
up  three  points  in  this  transaction,  viz. —  1.  the  lady's 
Christian  name  ;  2.  whose  wife  she  had  been  ;  and,  3. 
that  her  crime  was  "felony  and  murder;"  the  rest  of  the 
story  remains  as  much  as  ever  wrapped  in  mystery.  It 
it  not  yet  certain  who  was  the  person  murdered  ;  and  of 
the  motives,  place,  time,  and  all  other  particulars,  we 
are  wholly  ignorant.  Stow,  the  chronicler,  who  repeats 
what  he  found  in  the  Grey  Friars'  chronicle,  certainly 
adds  to  that  account  the  words,  "  for  murdering  her 
husband."  But,  as  Stow  was  not  born  until  two  years 
after  Lady  Hungerford's  execution,  and  did  not  compile 
his  own  chronicle  until  forty  years  after  it,  and  as  we 
know  not  whether  he  was  only  speaking  from  hearsay, 
or  on  authority,  the  fact  that  it  was  the  husband  still 
remains  to  be  proved. 

Excepting  on  the  supposition  that  the  Lady  Agnes 
was  a  perfect  monster  among  women,  it  is  almost  incon- 
ceivable that  she  should  have  murdered  a  husband  who, 
only  a  few  weeks,  or  days,  before  his  death,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  eleven  gentlemen  and  clergymen  known  to  them 
both,  signed  a  document  by  which  he  made  to  her 
(besides  the  jointure  from  lands)  a  free  and  absolute  gift 
of  all  his  personal  property,  including  the  accumulated 
valuables  of  an  ancient  family  \  and  this,  to  the  entire 
exclusion  of  his  only  son  and  heir !  When  the  character 
of  that  son  and  heir,  notoriously  cruel  to  his  own  wives, 
and  subsequently  sent  to  the  scaffold  for  an  ignominious 
offence,  is  considered  ;  and  when  it  is  further  recollected 
that  he  was  not  the  son,  but  only  the  step-son  of  this 
lady,  certain  suspicions  arise  which  more  than  ever 
excite  one's  curiosity  to  raise  still  higher  the  curtain 
that  hides  the  tragedy. 


2)2  Romance  of  London. 

The  inventory  includes  a  long  and  curious  catalogue 
of  the  lady's  own  dress  and  personal  ornaments  ;  with  a 
list  of  some  obligations  or  bonds  for  money;  some  items 
of  household  stuff  remaining  at  Jier  husband's  house  at 
Charing  Cross;  and  lastly  the  raiment  of  her  husband, 
which  was  in  the  keeping  of  her  son-in-law.  These 
curious  details  are  abridged  from  a  Paper  in  tlte  ArcJi- 
apologia,  vol.  xxxviii.,  by  J.  G.  Nichols,  F.S.A.,  and  the 
Rev.  J.  Jackson,  F.S.A. 

There  is  another  singular  story  of  the  Hungerford 
family,  which  may  have  originated  from  two  of  its 
members  having  met  with  ignominious  deaths.  The 
legend  is  of  the  device  of  a  toad  being  introduced  into 
the  armorial  bearings  of  the  Hungerfords,  in  memory  of 
the  degradation  of  some  member  of  the  family.  This 
tale,  the  Rev.  Mr  Jackson  pronounces  in  every  way 
nonsensical.  "Argent,  three  toads  sable,"  is  certainly 
one  of  their  old  quarterings  ;  as  may  be  seen  upon  one 
of  the  monuments  in  the  chapel  at  Farleigh  Castle,  near 
Bath.  "  But,"  says  Mr  Jackson,  "  it  was  borne  by  the 
Hungerfords  for  a  very  different  reason.  Robert,  the 
second  lord,  who  died  A.D.  1459,  had  married  the 
wealthy  heiress  of  the  Cornish  family  of  Botrcaux ;  and 
this  was  one  of  the  shields  used  by  her  family,  being,  in 
fact,  nothing  more  than  an  allusion,  not  uncommon  in. 
heraldry,  to  the  name.  This  was  spelled  variously, 
Botrcaux  or  Boterelles ;  and  the 'device  was  probably 
assumed  from  the  similarity  of  the  name  of  the  old 
French  word  Bolterol,  a  toad  (see  Cotgrave),  or  the  old 
Latin  word  Bottcrclla.  The  marriage  with  the  Bottreaux 
heiress,  and  the  assumption  of  her  arms,  having  taken 
place  many  years  before  any  member  of  the  Hunger- 
ford    family  was  attainted    or  executed    (as    some   of 


The  Hungerfords  at  Charing  Cross.  33 

them  afterwards  were),  the  popular  story  falls  to  the 
ground." 

We  now  come  to  a  wilder  trait  of  the  Hungerford 
family,  in  an  eccentric  memorial  of  one  of  its  members. 
Sir  Edward  Hungerford,  who  was  created  a  Knight  of 
the  Bath  at  the  coronation  of  Charles  II.,  is  known  as 
"  the  spendthrift : "  he  is  said  to  have  given  500  guineas 
for  a  wig  to  figure  in  at  some  ball ;  to  keep  up  his  foolish 
game,  he  sold,  at  one  time,  twenty-eight  manors ;  and 
he  pulled  down  part  of  his  large  town-house,  Charing 
Cross,  and  converted  the  other  portion  into  tenements 
and  a  market,  in  the  year  1650.  It  is  curious  to  find 
dedicated  to  "the  virtuous  and  most  ingenious"  Edward 
Hungerford,  &c,  a  son  of  the  spendthrift  Sir  Edward,  a 
small  volume  entitled  " Humane  Prudence ;  or,  The  Art 
by  which  a  man  may  Advance  himself  and  his  Fortune ;  " 
this  book  aiming  to  do  for  the  son  what  his  father,  the 
dissipator  of  the  Hungerford  estates,  most  grossly 
neglected — to  set  an  example  of  prudence  to  his  son. 
The  glory  of  the  Hungerfords  was  not  forgotten  in  the 
market-house  ;  for,  in  a  niche  on  the  north  side,  was 
placed  a  bust  of  one  of  the  family  in  a  large  wig — Sir 
Edward,  in  the  500-guinea  wig !  Beneath  was  a  pom- 
pous Latin  inscription,  with  the  date  of  its  erection, 
1682. 

We  remember  the  bewigged  bust,  which  disappeared 
with  the  old  market-house ;  but  the  evil  genius  still 
hovered  over  the  site  of  Hungerford  House,  and  in 
more  than  name,  in  the  failure  of  New  Hungerford 
Market,  was  prolonged  the  misfortune  so  long  asso- 
ciated with  the  Hungerford  family. 


V<  .1  .     !. 


34  Romance  of  London. 


yane  Shore,  her  true  History. 

NEITHER  of  our  historians  gives  the  name  of  this  noted 
woman's  parents.  Sir  Thomas  More  says  :  "  What  her 
father's  name  was,  or  where  she  was  born,  is  certainly 
not  known  ;  "  but  both  More  and  Stow  state  she  was 
born  in  London.  She  was  married  "somewhat  too 
soon "  to  William  Shore,  goldsmith  and  banker,  of 
Lombard  Street, — her  age  16  or  17  years.  She  lived 
with  Shore  seven  years,  and  about  1470  she  became 
concubine  to  King  Edward  IV.,  "  the  most  beautiful 
man  of  his  time."  In  his  resplendent  court  she  de- 
lighted all  by  her  beauty,  pleasant  behaviour,  and 
proper  wit  ;  for  she  could  read  well  and  write,  which 
few  of  the  brightest  ladies  then  could. 

Edward  died  in  1482  ;  and,  within  two  months,  Jane 
was  accused  by  Gloucester,  the  usurper,  of  sorcery  and 
witchcraft  :  he  caused  her  to  be  deprived  of  the  whole 
of  her  property,  about  3000  marks,  equal  now  to  about 
;£  20,000.  She  was  then  committed  to  the  Tower,  but  was 
released  for  want  of  proof  of  sorcery.  She  was  next 
committed,  by  the  Sheriffs,  to  Ludgate  prison,  charged 
with  having  been  the  concubine  of  Hastings,  for  which 
she  walked  in  penance.  Gloucester  then  consigned  her 
to  the  severity  of  the  Church.  She  was  carried  to  the 
Bishop's  palace,  clothed  in  a  white  sheet,  with  a  taper 
in  her  hand,  and  from  thence  conducted  to  St  Paul's 
Cathedral  and  the  cross,  before  which  she  made  a  con- 
fession of  her  only  fault.  "  Every  other  virtue  bloomed 
in  this  ill-fated  fair  with  the  fullest  vigour.  She  could 
not  resist  the  solicitations  of  a  youthful  monarch,  the 
handsomest  man  of  his  time.     On  his  death  she  was 


Jane  Shore.  35 

reduced  to  necessity,  scorned  by  the  world,  and  cast 
off  by  her  husband,  with  whom  she  was  paired  in  her 
childish  years,  and  forced  to  fling  herself  into  the  arms 
of  Hastings." 

"In  her  penance  she  went,"  says  Holinshed,  "in 
countenance  and  pace  demure,  so  womanlie,  that  albeit 
she  were  out  of  all  araie,  save  her  kettle  onlie,  yet  went 
she  so  faire  and  lovelie,  namelie,  while  the  wondering  of 
the  people  cast  a  comlie  rud  in  her  cheeks  (of  which  she 
before  had  most  misse),  that  hir  great  shame  wan  hir 
much  praise  among  those  that  were  more  amorous  of 
hir  bodie,  than  curious  of  hir  soule.  And  manie  good 
folks  that  hated  hir  living  (and  glad  were  to  see  sin 
corrected),  yet  pitied  they  more  hir  penance,  than 
rejoiced  therein,  when  they  considered  that  the  Pro- 
tector procured  it  more  of  a  corrupt  intent  than  any 
virtuous  affection." 

Rowe,  in  his  play,  has  thrown  this  part  of  her  story 
into  this  poetical  dress:— 

Submissive,  sad,  and  lonely  was  her  look ; 
A  burning  taper  in  her  hand  she  bore  ; 
And  on  her  shoulders,  carelessly  confused, 
With  loose  neglect  her  lovely  tresses  hung  ; 
Upon  her  cheek  a  faintish  flush  was  spread ; 
Feeble  she  seemed,  and  sorely  smit  with  pain  ; 
While,  barefoot  as  she  trod  the  flinty  pavement, 
Her  footsteps  all  along  were  marked  with  blood. 
Yet  silent  still  she  passed,  and  unrepining  ; 
Her  streaming  eyes  bent  ever  on  the  earth, 
Except  when,  in  some  bitter  pang  of  sorrow, 
To  heaven  she  seemed,  in  fervent  zeal,  to  raise, 
And  beg  that  mercy  man  denied  her  here. 

After  her  penance,  she  was  again  committed  to  Lud- 
gate,  where  she  was  kept  close  prisoner.  The  king's 
solicitor  would    have    married    her   but    for   Richard's 


36  Romance  of  Louden. 

interference.  After  his  death,  at  Bosworth,  Jane  was 
liberated  from  Ludgate.  There  is  a  tradition  that  she 
strewed  flowers  at  the  funeral  of  Henry  VII.  Calamitous 
was  the  rest  of  her  life  ;  and  she  died  in  1533  or  1534, 
when  more  than  fourscore  years  old  ;  and  no  stone 
tells  where  her  remains  are  deposited.  For  almost  half 
a  century,  Jane  Shore  was  a  living  monitress  to  avoid 
illicit  love,  however  fascinating ;  and  the  biographer, 
poet,  and  historian  made  her  such  for  nearly  three 
centuries  after  death  ;  in  ancient  chronicle  and  ballad, 
in  historical  record,  in  chap-book,  and  upon  our  stage, 
the  grave  moral  has  lasted  to  our  time.  Sir  Thomas 
More  says  that  Jane  begged  her  bread ;  and  the 
dramatist  has  adopted  this  error.  A  black-letter 
ballad,  in  the  Pepys  collection,  makes  Jane  die  of 
hunger  after  doing  penance,  and  a  man  to  be  hanged 
for  relieving  her ;  both  which  are  fictions,  and  led  to 
the  popular  error  of  Jane's  being  starved  in  a  ditch,  and 
thus  giving  the  name  to  Shoreditch  : — 

I  could  not  get  one  bit  of  bread, 
Whereby  my  hunger  might  be  fed  ; 
Nor  drink,  but  such  as  channels  yield, 
Or  stinking  ditches  in  the  field. 
Thus,  weary  of  my  life  at  lengthe, 
I  yielded  up  my  vital  strength 
Within  a  ditch  of  loathsome  scent, 
Where  carrion  dogs  did  much  frequent : 
The  which  now,  since  my  dying  dayc, 
Is  Shoreditch  call'd,  as  writers  saye. 

But  this  ballad  is  not  older  than  the  middle  of  the 
17th  century  ;  and  no  mention  is  made  of  Jane  so  dying 
in  a  ballad  by  Th.  Churchyard,  dated  1587.  Dr  Percy 
erroneously  refers  ShoreditcJi  to  "  its  being  a  common 
sewer,   vulgarly   shore,   or   drain."       It   is   also    called 


Story  of  a  King's  Head. 


0/ 


Scrditch;  which  is  the  most  correct,  according  to  the 
above  explanation.  Stow  declares  this  ancient  manor, 
parish,  and  street  of  London  to  have  been  called  Soers- 
ditch  more  than  400  years  before  his  time  ;  and  Weever 
states  it  to  have  been  named  from  Sir  John  de  Soer- 
dich,  lord  of  the  manor  temp.  Edward  III.,  and  who 
was  with  that  king  in  his  wars  with  France.  Two  miles 
north-east  of  Uxbridge  is  Ickenham  Hall,  the  seat  of 
the  Soerdich  family,  who  have  been  owners  of  the 
manor  from  the  time  of  Edward  III. 


Story  of  a  Kings  Head. 

STOW  relates  the  following  strange  discovery  of  the 
disposal  of  the  head  of  James  IV.  of  Scotland,  in  the 
chronicler's  description  of  the  Church  of  St  Michael, 
Wood  Street  :■ — 

"  There  is,"  he  says,  "but  without  any  outward  monu- 
ment, the  head  of  James  IV.,  King  of  Scots,  of  that 
name,  slain  at  Flodden  Field,  and  buried  here  by  this 
occasion.  After  the  battle,  the  body  of  the  said  king 
being  found,  was  closed  in  lead,  and  conveyed  from 
thence  to  London,  and  so  to  the  monastery  of  Sheen,  in 
Surrey,  where  it  remained  for  a  time,  in  what  order  I  am 
not  certain.  But  since  the  dissolution  of  that  house  in 
the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  Henry  Gray,  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
being  lodged  and  keeping  house  there,  I  have  been 
shewed  the  same  body  so  lapped  in  lead  close  to  the 
head  and  body,  was  thrown  into  a  waste  room  amongst 
the  old  timber,  lead,  and  other  rubble.  Since  the  which 
time,  workmen  there  (for  their  foolish  pleasure)  hewed 
off  his  head.  And  Launcelot  Young,  master-glazier  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  feeling  a  sweet  savour  to  come  from 


38  Romance  of  London. 

thence,  and  seeing  the  same  dried  from  moisture,  and 
yet  the  form  remaining  with  the  hair  of  the  head  and 
beard  red,  brought  it  to  London  to  his  house  in  Wood 
Street,  where  (for  a  time)  he  kept  it  for  the  sweetness ; 
but  in  the  end  caused  the  sexton  of  that  church  to  bury 
it  amongst  other  bones  taken  out  of  the  charnel,"  &c. 

The  above  statement  is  contradicted  by  the  Scottish 
historians  ;  but  Weever  is  positive  that  Sheen  was  the 
place  of  James's  burial.  There  is  also  another  story  of 
a  body  with  a  chain  round  the  waist,  said  to  have  been 
found  in  the  moat  of  Home  Castle,  and  by  the  tradition 
identified  with  that  of  James  IV.  of  Scotland ;  but  this 
has  been  disproved  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

A  correspondent  of  the  Athcnceum,  1852,  writes: 
"  The  curious  French  Gazette  records  that  the  king  was 
killed  within  a  lance's  length  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey ;  and 
Lord  Dacre,  in  his  letter  to  the  Lords  of  the  Council 
(orig.  Cal.  B.  ii.  115),  writes  that  he  found  the  body  of 
James,  and,  after  informing  Surrey  by  writing,  brought 
it  to  Berwick  ;  whilst  a  tablet,  which  was  fixed  to  the 
tomb  of  this  very  Earl  of  Surrey,  afterwards  second  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  in  Thetford  Abbey,  and  recounted  the  prin- 
cipal occurrences  in  his  eventful  life  (see  Weever  and  a 
MS.  copy  of  the  time  of  Eliz.  Jul.  c.  vii.),  stated,  'And 
this  done  [the  battle],  the  said  Earl  went  to  Berwick  to 
establish  all  things  well  and  in  good  order,  and  sent  for 
the  dead  body  of  the  King  of  Scots  to  Berwick;  and  when 
the  ordnance  of  the  King  of  Scots  was  brought  out  of 
the  field  and  put  in  good  suretie,  and  all  other  things  in 
good  order,  then  the  said  Earl  took  his  journey  towards 
York,  and  there  abode  during  the  King's  pleasure,  and 
carried  zuith  Jiim  the  dead  body  of  the  aforesaid  King  of 
Scots,  and  lay  there  until  such  time  as  the  King's  high- 


Queen  Elisabeth  by  Torchlight.  39 

ness  came  from  beyond  the  sea  after  his  winning  of 
Turwin  and  Torney.  And  then  his  highness  sent  for 
him  to  meet  him  at  Richmond,  and  so  he  did,  and 
delivered  unto  his  highness  the  dead  body  of  the  King  of 
Scots,  which  dead  body  teas  delivered  into  the  Charter- 
house there,  and  there  to  abyde  during  the  King's  pleasure' 
The  person  of  the  King  of  Scotland  must  have  been  as 
well  known  to  Lord  Dacre  from  his  recent  conferences 
with  him,  as  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey  from  his  residence  at 
the  Court  of  Scotland  on  the  occasion  of  his  conducting 
the  Princess,  afterwards  Queen  Margaret,  thither ;  and 
the  monastery  of  Sheen  (Shene)  alluded  to  by  Stow, 
having  been  occupied  by  monks  of  the  Carthusian 
order,  will  be  easily  recognised  as  the  Charter-house  of 
Richmond,  spoken  of  in  the  epitaph  of  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk." 

Queen  Elizabeth  by  Torchlight, 

BISHOP  GOODMAN,  in  his  Memoirs  of  the  Court  of 
King  James  I.  (the  manuscript  of  which  is  preserved  in 
the  Bodleian  Library),  has  left  this  curious  account  of 
Queen  Elizabeth's  popularity,  as  well  as  a  portraiture  of 
the  Virgin  Queen: — 

"  In  the  year  1588,  I  did  then  live  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  Strand,  near  St  Clement's  Church,  when  suddenly 
there  came  a  report  unto  us  (it  was  in  December,  much 
about  five  of  the  clock  at  night,  very  dark),  that  the  Queen 
was  gone  to  council,  and  if  you  will  see  the  Queen,  you 
must  come  quickly.  Then  we  all  ran  ;  when  the  court 
gates  were  set  open,  and  no  man  did  hinder  us  from 
coming  in.  Then  we  came  where  there  was  a  far  greater 
company  than  was  usual  at  Lenten  Sermons  ;  and  when 


40  Romance  of  London. 

we  had  stayed  there  an  hour,  and  that  the  yard  was  full, 
there  being  a  number  of  torches,  the  Oueen  came  out  in 
great  state.  Then  we  cried,  '  God  save  your  Majesty  ! 
God  save  your  Majesty !'  Then  the  Queen  turned  unto 
us,  and  said,  'God  bless  you  all,  my  good  people!'  Then 
we  cried  again, '  God  save  your  Majesty  !  God  save  your 
Majesty  ! '  Then  the  Queen  said  again  unto  us,  '  You 
may  well  have  a  greater  prince,  but  you  shall  never  have 
a  more  loving  prince  !  '  and  so,  looking  one  upon  another 
for  a  while,  the  Queen  departed.  This  wrought  such  an 
impression  upon  us,  for  shows  and  pageants  are  ever  best 
seen  by  torchlight,  that  all  the  way  long  we  did  nothing 
but  talk  what  an  admirable  Queen  she  was,  and  how  we 
would  adventure  our  lives  to  do  her  service.  Now  this 
was  in  a  year  when  she  had  most  enemies,  and  how  easily 
might  they  then  have  gotten  into  the  crowd  and  multi- 
tude to  have  done  her  a  mischief! 

"  Take  her  then  in  her  yearly  journeys  at  her  coming 
to  London,  where  you  must  understand  that  she  did 
desire  to  be  seen  and  to  be  magnified  ;  but  in  her  old 
age  she  had  not  only  wrinkles,  but  she  had  a  goggle 
throat,  a  great  gullet  hanging  out,  as  her  grandfather 
Henry  VII.  is  ever  painted  withal.  [Walpole,  in  his 
Royal  and  Noble  Authors,  has  given  the  impression  of 
one  of  Elizabeth's  coins,  which  was  struck  apparently  a 
few  years  before  her  death.  It  represents  her  very  old 
and  ugly.]  And  truly,  there  was  then  a  report  that  the 
ladies  had  gotten  false  looking-glasses,  that  the  Queen 
might  not  see  her  own  wrinkles ;  for,  having  been  ex- 
ceeding beautiful  and  fair  in  her  youth,  such  beauties 
are  very  aptest  for  wrinkles  in  old  age. 

"So  then  the  Queen's  constant  custom  was,  a  little 
before  her  coronation*-day,  to  come  from  Richmond  to 


Romance  of  the  Bcaucliainp  Tower,  41 

London,  and  dine  with  the  Lord  Admiral  (the  Earl  of 
Effingham)  at  Chelsea ;  and  to  set  out  from  Chelsea  at 
dark  night,  where  the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  Aldermen 
were  to  meet  her,  and  here,  all  the  way  long,  from 
Chelsea  to  Whitehall,  was  full  of  people  to  see  her,  and 
truly  any  man  might  very  easily  have  come  to  her 
coach.  Now,  if  she  thought  that  she  had  been  in 
danger,  how  is  it  credible  that  she  should  so  adventure 
herself?  King  James,  who  was  as  harmless  a  King  as 
any  was  in  our  age,  and  consequently  had  as  few  enemies, 
yet  wore  quilted  doublets,  stiletto-proof:  the  Queen  had 
many  enemies  ;  all  her  wars  depended  upon  her  life. 
She  had  likewise  very  fearful  examples  :  the  first  Duke 
of  Guise  was  shot;  Henry  III.,  the  French  King,  was 
stabbed ;  the  Duke  of  Orange  was  pistoled — and  these 
might  make  the  Queen  take  heed." 

Charles  Howard,  Earl  of  Effingham,  above  named, 
was  a  great  favourite  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  He  was  the 
only  person  who  had  influence  sufficient  to  persuade 
the  Queen  to  go  to  bed  in  her  last  sickness  ;  she  having 
an  apprehension  of  some  prediction,  as  it  was  thought, 
that  she  should  die  in  it. 

Romance  of  the  Beauchamp  Tower. 

It  has  been  fancifully  said  that  "  walls  have  ears." 
The  walls  of  the  "  prison-lodgings "  in  the  Tower  of 
London,  however,  bear  more  direct  testimony  of  their 
former  occupants  ;  for  here  the  thoughts,  sorrows,  and 
sufferings  of  many  a  noble  soul  and  crushed  spirit  are 
literally  cut  in  stone.  The  Beauchamp  or  Cobham 
Tower,  a  curious  s'pecimen  of  the  military  architecture 
of  the  12th  and   13th  centuries,  is  the  most  interesting 


42  Romance  of  London. 

portion  of  our  ancient  prison  fortress  ;  and  in  its  recent 
repair,  the  records  of  many  noteworthy  persons  confined 
within  its  walls  haye  been  carefully  preserved. 

The  Tower  originally  derived  its  name  from  Thomas 
de  Beauchamp,  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  was  imprisoned 
here  in  1397.  It  consists  of  three  apartments,  one 
above  the  other,  besides  a  few  small  passages  and  cells. 
The  lower  room  is  partly  below  the  ground,  and  must 
have  been  a  dismal  place  of  imprisonment.  A  circular 
staircase  leads  to  the  other  apartments,  in  which  have 
been  confined  so  many  eminent  individuals.  Many  of 
these  have  here  endeavoured  to  shorten  the  tedious 
hours  by  records  on  the  stone  walls  of  their  names  and 
sentiments  ;  and  hard  must  be  the  heart  which  could 
look  unmoved  at  many  of  the  inscriptions. 

These  memorials  have  been  cleansed  by  an  ingenious 
chemical  process  from  dirt  and  paint.  During  this 
operation  many  new  names  have  been  brought  to  light 
which  have  been  for  long  hidden  from  plaster.  &c. 
Amongst  these  is  a  sculptured  rebus— a  bell  inscribed 
TA.  and  Thomas  above,  the  memorial  of  Dr  Abel, 
chaplain  to  Queen  Catherine  of  Arragon.  Thomas 
Abel  was  a  man  of  learning,  a  great  master  of  instru- 
mental music,  and~well  skilled  in  modern  languages. 
These  qualifications  introduced  him  at  Court,  and  he 
became  domestic  chaplain  to  Queen  Catherine  of  Ar- 
ragon, wife  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  served  her  Majesty  in 
the  above-mentioned  capacity.  When  the  validity  of 
the  marriage  of  the  Queen  and  Henry  VIII.  became  a 
question,  the  affection  which  Dr  Abel  bore  towards  his 
mistress  led  him  into  the  controversy  to  which  it  gave  rise, 
and  he  opposed  the  divorce  both  by  words  and  writings. 
By  giving  in  to  the  delusion  of  the  "  Holy  Maid  of 


Romance  of  the  Bcaiichamp  Tower.  43 

Kent "  he  incurred  a  misprision,  and  was  afterwards 
condemned  and  executed  in  Smithfield,  together  with 
others,  for  denying  the  King's  supremacy,  and  affirming 
his  marriage  with  Oueen  Catherine  to  be  jrood. 

Another  sculpture  —  a  kneeling  figure  —  portrays 
Robert  Bainbridge,  who  was  imprisoned  for  writing  a 
letter  offensive  to  Queen  Elizabeth ;  James  Gilmor, 
1569;  Thomas  Talbot,  1462.  This  is  the  oldest  in- 
scription which  has  been  found  in  the  prison  :  this 
gentleman  here  was  in  1464,  and  had  kept  Henry  VI. 
prisoner  at  Waddington  Hall,  in  Lancashire. 

In  the  State  Prison  room  is  IANE.  IANE  cut  in 
letters  of  the  Elizabethan  style,  which  attract  more  at- 
tention from  visitors  than  memorials  of  more  elaborate 
design  and  execution.  These  letters  are  supposed  to 
have  been  cut  by  Lord  Guildford  Dudley,  as  a  solace, 
when  he  was  confined  in  a  separate  prison  from  his  un- 
happy wife.  This  is  the  only  memorial  preserved  of 
Lady  Jane  Grey  in  the  Tower. 

One  of  the  most  elaborate  devices  is  that  of  John 
Dvdle,  Earl  of  Warwick,  tried  and  condemned  in  1553 
for  endeavouring  to  deprive  Mary  of  the  crown  ;  but 
being  reprieved,  he  died  in  his  prison-room,  where  he 
had  wrought  upon  the  wall  his  family's  cognisance,  the 
lion,  and  bear,  and  ragged  staff,  underneath  which  is 
his  name  ;  the  whole  surrounded  by  oak-sprigs,  roses, 
geraniums,  and  honeysuckles,  emblematic  of  the  Chris- 
tian names  of  his  four  brothers,  as  appears  from  this 
unfinished  inscription  : — 

Yow  that  these  beasts  do  wel  behold  and  se, 
May  deme  with  ease  wherefore  here  made  they  be 
Withe  borders  eke  wherein  (there  may  be  found) 
4  brothers'  names,  who  list  to  scrche  the  grovnd. 


44  Romance  of  London. 

The  names  of  the  brothers  were  Ambrose,  Robert, 
Guildford,  and  Henry  :  thus,  A,  acorn  ;  R,  rose ;  G, 
geranium  ;  and  H,  honeysuckle  :  others  think  the  rose 
indicates  Ambrose,  and  the  oak  Robert  (robnr).  In  an- 
other part  is  carved  an  oak-tree  bearing  acorns,  signed 
R.  D.  ;  the  work  of  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester. 

Here  are  several  devices  of  the  Peverils,  on  a  cruci- 
fix bearing  a  heart,  wheatsheaves,  a  portrait,  initials, 
&c.  A  reference  to  Sir  Walter  Scott's  novels  of  the 
Fortunes  of  Nigel  and  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  shows  that 
their  distinguished  author  had  made  himself  acquainted 
with  the  various  portions  of  the  Tower.  The  lower 
right-hand  inscription  is  one  of  several  bearing  the  name 
of  Peveril.  The  wheatsheaves  are  the  armorial  bearings 
of  the  Peverils  of  Derbyshire.  It  is  by  no  means  un- 
likely that,  on  the  sight  of  these  stones,  Sir  Walter 
Scott  formed  the  plan  of  his  novel.  The  room,  above 
the  entrance  of  the  Bloody  Tower,  in  which  the  young 
Princes  are  said  to  have  been  murdered  by  Richard 
III.,  agrees  with  the  account  of  the  place  of  meeting 
between  Georgina  Harriet,  his  god-daughter,  and  Nigel. 
There  is  here  a  secret  closet  near  the  roof,  of  no  seeming 
use,  except  to  conceal  an  observer  from  the  prisoners, 
which  may  have  afforded  the  idea  of  the  "  lug  "  in  which 
James  I.  ensconced  himself. 

These  inscriptions  tell  their  own  sad  stories  : 

"  O  .  Lord  .  whic  .  art  .  of  .  heavn  .  King  .  Graunt  . 
gras  .  and  .  lvfe  .  everlastig  .  to  .  Miagh  .  thy  .  servant  . 
in  .  prison  .  alon  .  with  *  *  *  *  Tomas  Miagh."    Again : 

Thomas  Miagh,  whiche  lieth  here  alon, 

That  fayne  wovld  from  hens  be  gon, 

By  tortyre  straunge  mi  troth  was 

tryeel,  yet  of  my  libertie  denied.     1581,  Thomas  Myagh. 


Romance  of  the  Bcauchamp  Tower,  45 

He  was  a  prisoner  for  treason,  tortured  with  Skeving- 
ton's  irons  and  the  rack.  Next  is  the  inscription  of 
Thomas  Clarke  : — 

"  Hit  is  the  poynt  of  a  wyse  man  to  try  and  then 
trvste,  for  hapy  is  he  whome  fyndeth  one  that  is  ivst. 
T.  C."  Again  :  "  T.  C.  I  leve  in  hope  and  I  gave 
credit  to  mi  frinde  in  time  did  stande  me  moste  in 
hande,  so  wovlde  I  never  do  againe,  excepte  I  hade  him 
sver  in  bande,  and  to  al  men  wiche  I  so  vnles,  ye  svssteine 
the  leke  lose  as  I  do.  Vnhappie  is  that  mane  whose 
actes  doth  procvre  the  miseri  of  this  hovs  in  prison  to 
indvre.     1576,  Thomas  Clarke." 

"  Thomas  Willyngar,  goldsmithe.  My  hart  is  yours 
tel  dethe."  By  the  side  is  a  figure  of  a  bleeding  "hart," 
and  another  of  "  dethe;"  and  "T.  W."  and  "  P.  A." 

Thomas  Rose, 

Within  this  Tower  strong 

Kept  close 

By  those  to  whom  he  did  no  wrong.     May  8th,  1666. 

The  figure  of  man,  praying,  underneath  "  Ro.  Bain- 
bridge"  (1587-8). 

"Thomas  Bawdewin,  1585,  J vly.  As  vertve  maketh 
life,  so  sin  cawseth  death." 

"J-  C.  1538."  "Learne  to  feare  God."  "  Reprens  . 
le  .  sage  .  et  .  il  .  te  .  armera. — Take  wisdom,  and  he 
shall  arm  you." 

The  memorial  of  Thomas  Salmon,  1622,  now  let  into 
the  wall  of  the  middle  room,  was  formerly  in  the  upper 
prison-lodging  :  it  records  a  long  captivity,  and  consists 
of  a  shield  surrounded  by  a  circle  ;  above  the  circle  the 
name  "T.  Salmon;"  a  crest  formed  of  three  salmons, 
and  the  date  1622;  underneath  the  circle  the  motto  Nee 


46  Romance  of  London. 

tcmere,  ncc  timorc — "Neither  rashly  nor  with  fear."  Also 
a  star  containing  the  abbreviation  of  Christ,  in  Greek, 
surrounded  by  the  sentence,  Sic  vive  vt  vivas — "  So  live 
that  thou  mayest  live."  In  the  opposite  corner  are  the 
words,  Et  morire  ne  morieris — "And  die  that  thou 
mayest  die  not."  Surrounding  a  representation  of  Death's 
head,  above  the  device,  is  the  enumeration  of  Salmon's 
confinement :  "  Close  prisoner  8  moneths,  32  wekes,  224 
dayes,  5376  houres." 

On  the  ground  floor  are  "Walter  Parlew,"  dated 
"1569"  and  "1570";  an  anchor,  and  "Extrema 
Christus."  Near  these  is  "  Robart  Dudley/'  This 
nobleman  was  the  third  son  of  John  Dudley,  Duke  of 
Northumberland,  who  was  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill  in 
1553,  for  high  treason.  At  his  death,  his  sons  were  still 
left  in  confinement,  and  Robert  was,  in  1554,  arraigned 
at  Guildhall,  on  the  plea  of  high  treason,  and  condemned 
to  be  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered.  He  lay  under  this 
sentence  till  the  following  year,  when  he  and  his  brothers, 
Ambrose  and  Henry,  were  liberated  by  command  of 
Queen  Mary,  and  afterwards  rose  into  high  favour  at  the 
courts  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth.* 

On  the  ground-floor  also  is  : — 

The  man  whom  this  house  can  not  mend, 
Hath  evill  becom,  and  worse  will  end. 

"  Round  this  (Beauchamp)  chamber  (says  Mr  Hep- 
worth  Dixon),  a  secret  passage  has  been  discovered  in 
the  masonry,  in  which  spies  were,  no  doubt,  set  to  listen, 
and  report  the  conversation  or  soliloquies  of  prisoners, 
when  they,  poor  souls,  believed  themselves  alone."     The 

*  .See  Inscriptions  and  Devices  in  the  Beauchamp  Toiaer,  by  W.  R.  Dick. 
I8S3- 


Traitors  Gate,  in  the  Tower.  47 

men  who  lived  in  the  Tower  have  named  this  passage 
the  Whispering  Gallery. 

The  Beauchamp  Tower  was  used  as  a  prison  for  male 
offenders  only.  Some  years  since,  a  door  of  ancient 
oak,  knotted  with  iron,  was  seen  below  the  plaster:  this 
door  opened  to  a  sort  of  terrace  leading  to  the  Bell 
Tower,  containing  the  alarm-bell  of  the  garrison  :  here 
were  confined  Fisher,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  and  sub- 
sequently the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  other  illustrious 
captives ;  in  this  roof-promenade  they  took  the  air. 
The  walls  bear  some  memorials,  among  which  is  "Rcspice 
finem,  W.  D." 

One  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  prison-lodgings  is  thought 
to  have  been  the  second  and  third  stories  of  the  Beau- 
champ  Tower ;  here  he  devoted  much  time  to  chemistry 
and  pharmaceutical  preparations.  "  He  has  converted," 
says  Sir  William  Wade,  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  "  a 
little  hen-house  in  the  garden  into  a  still-house,  and  here 
he  doth  spend  his  time  all  the  day  in  distillations ;  .  .  . 
.  .  he  doth  show  himself  upon  the  wall  in  his  garden  to 
the  view  of  the  people  : "  here  Raleigh  prepared  his 
"  Rare  Cordial,"'  which,  with-  other  ingredients  added  by 
Sir  Kenelm  Digby  and  Sir  A.  Fraser,  is  the  Confcctio 
Aromatica  of  the  present  London  Pharmacopoeia. 

Traitors  Gate,  in  the  Tower. 

One  of  the  most  picturesque  relics  of  this  ancient  prison- 
house  is  the  Traitors'  Gate — the  water  entrance  to  the 
Tower — and  through  which  so  many  captives  passed 
never  to  return.  Here  the  Princess  Elizabeth  sat  on  the 
steps  in  the  midst  of  rain  and  storm,  declaring  that  she 
was  no  traitor.     Scores  of  pages  of  history  and  events 


48  Romance  of  London. 

affording  materials  for  both  the  poet  and  the  painter 
come  into  the  memory  at  the  mention  of  the  name  of 
this  gloomy  portal. 

Mr  Ferrey,  the  architect,  remarks  :  "  Few  persons  can 
be  aware  of  the  solemn  grandeur  which  this  water-gate 
must  have  presented  in  bygone  times,  when  its  architec- 
tural features  were  unmutilated.  Gateways  and  barbi- 
cans to  castles  are  usually  bold  and  striking  in  their 
design  ;  but  a  water-gate  of  this  kind,  in  its  perfect  state, 
must  have  been  quite  unique."  The  internal  features, 
however,  now  can  scarcely  be  discerned.  The  general 
plan  of  the  structure  consists  of  an  oblong  block,  each 
corner  having  an  attached  round  turret  of  large  dimen- 
sions. The  south  archway,  which  formed  the  water 
approach  from  the  Thames,  guarded  by  a:  portcullis,  is 
now  effectually  closed  by  a  wharf  occupying  the  entire 
length  of  the  Tower.  "  The  water,"  he  continues, 
"  originally  flowed  through  the  base  of  the  gate-house, 
and  extended  probably  beyond  the  north  side  of  it  to 
the  Traitors'  Steps,  as  they  were  called.  Here  the  super- 
incumbent mass  of  the  gateway  is  supported  by  an 
archway  of  extraordinary  boldness,  such  as  is  not  to  be 
found  in  any  other  gateway,  and  is  a  piece  of  masterly 
construction.  A  staircase  in  the  north-west  turret  con- 
ducts to  the  galleries,  or  wall  passages,  formed  on  a  level 
with  the  tops  of  the  archway.  A  stranger,  on  looking 
at  the  Traitors'  Gate  as  it  is  now  encumbered,  could 
possibly  form  an  idea  of  its  ancient  dignity.  The  whole 
of  the  upper  part  is  crammed  with  offices,  and  disfigured 
in  every  possible  manner;  and  the  gloom  of  the  Traitors 
Gate  is  now  broken  up  by  the  blatant  noise  of  steam- 
machinery  for  hoisting  and  packing  war-weapons."  The 
vibration  of  the  machinery  has  already  so  shaken  the 


The  Bloody  Tower.  .        49 

south-eastern  turret,  that  it  is  now  shored  up  in  order  to 
prevent  its  falling. 

Mr  Ferrey  adds,  that  the  enormous  size  of  the  north 
archway  must  have  been  for  the  admission  of  several 
barges  or  vessels  to  pass  within  the  present  boundary 
of  the  gateway  walls,  when  the  outer  portcullis  was 
closed ;  whilst  that  the  Thames  once  penetrated  further 
to  the  north.     By  this  entrance 

Went  Sidney,  Russell,  Raleigh,  Cranmer,  More. 

The  Bloody  Tower. 

ADJOINING  the  Wakefield,  or   Record   Tower,  is   the 

structure  with  the  above  terrific  name.     Here,  in  a  dark 

windowless  room,  in  which  one  of  the  portcullises  was 

worked,  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  is  said  to  have  been 

drowned  in  malmsey  ;  in  the  adjoining  chamber,  the  two 

princes  are  said  to  have  been  "smothered ; "  whence  the 

name  of  Bloody  Tower.     This  has  been  much  disputed  ; 

but  in  a  tract  temp.  James  I.,  we  read  that  the  above 

"  turret  our  elders  termed  the  Bloody    Toivcr ;  for  the 

bloodshed,   as   they    say,    of  those    infant    princes   of 

Edward  IV.,  whom  Richard  III.,  of  cursed  memory  (I 

shudder  to  mention   it),  savagely  killed,  two  together 

at  one  time."     In   the  latter  chamber  was  imprisoned 

Colonel  Hutchinson,  whose  wife,  daughter  of  Sir  Allen 

Apsley,  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  where  she  was  born, 

relates  the  above  traditions.     This  portion  was  formerly 

called  the  Garden  Tozuer ;  it  was  built  temp.  Edward  III., 

and   is    the  only  ancient  place  of   security  as  a  state 

prison   in  the  Tower.     It   is  entered  through    a    small 

door  in  the  inner  ballium  ;  it  consists  of  a  day-room  and 

a  bed-room,  and  the  leads  on  which  the  prisoner  was 
vol.  1.  D 


50  Romance  of  London. 

sometimes  allowed  to  breathe  the  air.  The  last  person 
who  occupied  these  apartments  was  Arthur  Thistle- 
wood,  the  Cato  Street  conspirator.  Westward  are  the 
Lieutenants  Lodgings  (the  Lieutenant's  residence), 
chiefly  timber-built,  temp.  Henry  VIII.  ;  in  1610  was 
added  a  chamber  having  a  prospect  to  all  the  three 
gates  of  the  Tower,  and  enabling  the  lieutenant  to  call 
and  look  to  the  warders.  In  the  Council  Chamber  the 
Commissioners  examined  Guy  Fawkes  and  his  accom- 
plices, as  commemorated  in  a  Latin  and  Hebrew 
inscription  upon  a  parti-coloured  marble  monument ; 
and  elsewhere  in  the  building  there  was  discovered, 
about  1845,  "an  inscription  carved  on  an  old  mantlepiece 
relating  to  the  Countess  of  Lenox,  grandmother  of 
James  I.,  '  commytede  prysner  to  thys  Logynge  for  the 
Marige  of  her  Sonne  my  Lord  Henry  Darnle  and  the 
Queen  of  Scotlande."  Here  a  bust  of  James  I.  was 
set  up,  in  1608,  by  Sir  William  Wade,  then  Lieutenant; 
the  walls  are  painted  with  representations  of  men  inflict- 
ing and  suffering  torture ;  and  the  room  is  reputed  to  be 
haunted !  The  last  person  confined  in  the  lodgings  here 
was  Sir  Francis  Burdett,  committed  April  6,  18 10,  for 
writing  in  Cobbett's  Weekly  Register. 

The  Bloody  Tozvcr  gateivay,  built  temp.  Edward  III. 
(opposite  Traitors'  Gate),  is  the  main  entrance  to  the 
Inner  Ward  :  it  has  massive  gates  and  portcullis,  com- 
plete, at  the  southern  end  ;  but  those  at  the  north  end 
have  been  removed.  We  read  in  Weale's  London,  p. 
160,  that  "the  gates  are  genuine,  and  the  portcullis  is 
said  to  be  the  only  one  remaining  in  England  fit  for  use. 
The  archway  forms  a  noble  specimen  of  the  Doric  order 
of  Gothic.  For  a  prison-entrance,  we  know  of  no  more 
perfect  model." 


Two  Prisoners  in  the  Bell  Tower.  5 1 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  only  the  grim  features 
of  the  Tower  which  tell  of  the  dark  deeds  done  within 
its  walls  have  been  preserved  ;  for,  of  the  Royal  Palace, 
the  abode  of  our  Sovereigns  to  the  time  of  Charles  II., 
no  view  exists.  The  site  is  now  occupied  by  wharves 
and  machinery. 


Two  Prisoners  in  the  Bell  Tower. 

The  Rev.  Thomas  Hugo,  F.S.A.,  in  his  admirable 
paper,  read  to  the  London  and  Middlesex  Archaeological 
Society,  upon  the  Bell  Tower  of  the  Tower  of  London, 
thus  picturesquely  introduces  two  of  the  illustrious 
tenants  of  this  historical  prison-house — this  gloomy 
dungeon,  and  the  scarcely  less  gloomy  chamber  immedi- 
ately above  it.  Of  course,  the  identification  of  particular 
prisoners  with  particular  spots  is  legendary,  and  we 
can  very  rarely  adduce  precise  and  historical  proof  of 
the  correctness  of  such  attribution.  Where,  however, 
tradition  has  constantly  gone  in  one  direction,  and 
where,  age  after  age,  the  same  legend  has  obtained,  it 
seems  to  savour  of  perverse  incredulity  to  hesitate  to 
accept  what  is  not  plainly  and  flagrantly  opposed  to 
likelihood.  Assuming  as  a  fact  what  tradition  asserts, 
— that  these  walls  once  looked  upon  two  faces,  among, 
doubtless,  many  others,  whose  owners  possess  consider- 
able attractions  for  the  minds  of  Englishmen.  The 
first  of  the  two  was  the  venerable  Fisher,  Bishop  ol 
Rochester,  who  fell  under  the  headsman's  axe  for  deny- 
ing the  spiritual  supremacy  of  Henry  VIII. 

The  Bishop  of  Rochester  was  one  of  the  foremost 
men  of  his  age,  and  was  for  many  years  confessor  to 
the  king's  grandmother,   the   Countess    of   Richmond  ; 


$2  Romance  of  London. 

and  it  is-  supposed  that  her  munificence  towards  our 
two  universities — by  founding  St  John's  and  Christ's 
Colleges  at  Cambridge,  and  the  professorships  of 
divinity  in  both  Oxford  and  Cambridge — was  mainly 
owing  to  his  pious  advice  and  direction.  He  sided,  as 
was  likely,  against  the  king  in  the  matter  of  Queen 
Katharine,,  whose  cause  he  warmly  advocated,  and, 
as  also  was  likely,  drew  down  upon  himself  the  dis- 
pleasure of  his  unscrupulous  sovereign.  At  length 
when  called  before  the  Lambeth  council,  and  com- 
manded to  acknowledge  the  king's  supremacy,  he 
resolutely  refused  to  do  so,  and  was  forthwith  com- 
mitted to  the  Tower. 

He  had  now  reached  his  eightieth  year,  and  the  cold 
damp  dungeon  into  which  he  was  thrust  was  not  calcu- 
lated to  prolong  his  days.  Perhaps  his  enemies  desired 
that  death  should  naturally  remove  him,  and  remove 
from  them  also  the  odium  which  could  not  fail  to  attach 
to  all  who  should  be  instrumental  in  his  more  direct 
and  manifest  destruction.  His  constitution,  however, 
was  proof  against  his  position,  and  for  many  months  he 
bore  his  privations  as  became  a  good  soldier  in  a  cause 
on  which  his  heart  and  soul  were  set  Out  of  his  pain- 
ful dungeon  he  wrote  to  Mr  Secretary  Cromwell  in 
these  words  : — "  Furthermore,  I  beseech  you  to  be  good 
master  to  me  in  my  necessity,  for  I  have  neither  suit 
nor  yet  other  clothes  that  are  necessary  for  me  to  wear, 
but  that  be  ragged  and  rent  shamefully.  My  diet  also, 
God  knoweth  how  slender  it  is  at  many  times  ;  and  now 
in  mine  age  my  stomack  may  not  away  with  but  a  few 
kinds  of  meat,  which,  if  I  want,  I  .decay  forthwith,  and 
fall  into  coughs  and  diseases  of  my  body,  and  cannot 
keep  myself  in  health.     And  as  our  Lord  knoweth,  I 


Two  Prisoners  in  the  Bell  Tower.  5  3 

have  nothing  left  unto  me  to  provide  any  better,  but  as 
my  brother  of  his  own  purse  layeth  out  for  me  to  his 
great  hindrance.  Therefore,  good  Master  Secretary,  I 
beseech  you  to  have  some  pity  upon  me,  and  let  me 
have  such  things  as  are  necessary  for  me  in  mine  age, 
and  especially  for  my  health.  .  .  .  Then  shall  you  bind 
me  for  ever  to  be  your  poor  beadsman  unto  Almighty 
God,  who  ever  have  you  in  His  protection  and  custody." 

This  was  written  in  the  depth  of  a  bitter  winter,  for 
the  asred  writer  concludes: — "This,  I  beseech  you,  to 
grant  me  of  your  charity.  And  thus  our  Lord  send  you 
a  merry  Christmas,  and  a  comfortable,  to  your  heart's 
desire. — At  the  Tower,  the  22nd  day  of  December." 
The  Bishop  left  this  abode  of  persecution  for  his  bloody 
death  on  Tower  Hill. 

The  scene  again  changes,  and  this  time  a  very  different 
prisoner  enters  the  portals  of  the  Bell  Tower.  It  is  now 
the  fair  and  blooming  face  of  a  young  and  noble  lady, 
afterwards  the  Queen  of  this  great  country,  then  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth.  Her  sister,  ever 
sullen  and  suspicious,  had  removed  her,  to  the  danger 
of  her  life,  from  her  home  at  Ashridge,  in  Hertfordshire, 
and  after  necessary  delay  at  Redborne,  St  Alban's, 
South  Mimms,  and  Highgate,'  she  at  length,  some  days 
after  the  beginning  of  her  journey,  arrived  at  Whitehall. 
Within  a  fortnight  she  was  lodged  in  her  prison  in  the 
Tower.  Doubtless  you  knowthe'story;  but  her  entrance 
into  the  fortress  deserves  a  moment's  mention.  The 
barge  was  directed  to  enter  by  Traitors'  Gate,  much 
to  the  annoyance  of  the  fair  prisoner.  It  rained  hard 
(an  old  chronicler  says),  and  a  certain  unnamed  lord 
offered  her  his  cloak  ;  but  she  "put  her  hand  back  with 
a  "-ood  dash,"  and  then,  as  she  set  her  foot  on  the  dreaded 


54  Romance  of  London. 

stairs,  she  cried  out  aloud — "  Here  landeth  as  good  a 
subject,  being  a  prisoner,  as  ever  landed  at  these  stairs: 
and  before  Thee,  O  God,  I  speak  it,  having  none  other 
friends  but  Thee."  A  few  minutes  afterwards  found  her 
a  fast  prisoner,  and,  as  tradition  tells,  in  the  very  turret 
to  which  we  have  been  drawing  your  attention. 


What  became  of  the  Heads  of  Bishop 
Fisher  and  Sir  Thomas  More. 

Fisher,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  and  Sir  Thomas  More, 
were  two  of  the  most  eminent  persons  who  were  executed 
for  not  acknowledging  King  Henry  VIII.  as  supreme 
head  of  the  Church  of  England.  Bishop  Fisher  was 
executed  on  St  Alban's  Day,  the  22nd  of  June  1535, 
about  ten  in  the  morning  ;  and  his  head  was  to  have  been 
erected  upon  Traitors'  Gate,  London  Bridge,  the  same 
night ;  but  that  it  was  delayed,  to  be  exhibited  to  Queen 
Anne  Boleyn.  We  gather  these  particulars  from  a 
curious  duodecimo,  written  by  Hall,  but  attributed  to 
Dr  Thomas  Baily,  1665,  who  further  relates: — "The 
next  day  after  his  burying,  the  head,  being  parboyled, 
was  pricked  upon  a  pole,  and  set  on  high  upon  London 
Bridge,  among  the  rest  of  the  holy  Carthusians'  heads 
that  suffered  death  lately  before  him.  And  here  I  can- 
not omit  to  declare  unto  you  the  miraculous  sight  of 
this  head,  which,  after  it  had  stood  up  the  space  of 
fourteen  dayes  upon  the  bridge,  could  not  be  perceived 
to  wast  nor  consume  :  neither  for  the  weather,  which  was 
then  very  hot,  neither  for  the  parboyling  in  hot  water, 
but  grew  daily  fresher  and  fresher,  so  that  in  his  lifetime 


Heads  of  Fislicr  and  More.  5  5 

he  never  looked  so  -well ;  for  his  cheeks  being  beautified 
with  a  comely  red,  the  face  looked  as  though  it  had 
beholden  the  people  passing  by,  and  would  have  spoken 
to  them  ;  which  many  took  for  a  miracle  that  Almighty 
God  was  pleased  to  shew  above  the  course  of  nature  in 
thus  preserving  the  fresh  and  lively  colour  in  his  face, 
surpassing  the  colour  he  had  being  alive,  whereby  was 
noted  to  the  world  the  innocence  and  holiness  of  this 
blessed  father  that  thus  innocently  was  content  to  lose 
his  head  in  defence  of  his  Mother  the  Holy  Catholique 
Church  of  Christ.  Wherefore  the  people  coming  daily 
to  see  this  strange  sight,  the  passage  over  the  bridge 
was  so  stopped  with  their  going  and  coming,  that  almost 
neither  cart  nor  horse  could  passe ;  and  therefore  at  the 
end  of  fourteen  daies  the  executioner  was  commanded 
to  throw  down  the  head,  in  the  night-time,  into  the  River 
of  Thames  ;  and  in  the  place  thereof  was  set  the  head  of 
the  most  blessed  and  constant  martyr  Sir  Thomas 
More,  his  companion  and  fellow  in  all  his  troubles,  who 
suffered  his  passion,"  on  Tuesday  "the  6th  of  July  next 
following,  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

The  bodies  of  Fisher  and  More  were  buried  in  the 
chapel  of  St  Peter  in  the  Tower ;  the  head  of  More,  says 
his  great-grandson,  in  his  life  of  him,  printed  in  1726, 
"Was  putt  upon  London  Bridge,  where  as  trayters' 
heads  are  sett  vpon  poles;  and  hauing  remained  some 
moneths  there,  being  to  be  cast  into  the  Thames,  because 
roome  should  be  made  for  diuerse  others,  who  in  plentiful 
sorte  suffered  martyrdome  for  the  same  supremacie; 
shortly  after  it  was  bought  by  his  daughter  Margarett, 
least, — as  she  stoutly  affirmed  before  the  councell,  being 
called  before  them  for  the  same  matter, — it  should  be 
foode  for  fishes ;  which  she  buried  where  she  thought 


56  Romance  of  London. 

fittest."  The  Chancellor's  pious  daughter  is  said  to  have 
preserved  this  relic  in  a  leaden  case,  and  to  have  ordered 
its  interment  with  her  own  body,  in  the  Roper  vault, 
under  a  chapel  adjoining  St  Dunstan's,  Canterbury, 
where  the  head,  it  is  stated,  was  seen  in  the  year  171 5, 
and  again  subsequently. 

Aubrey,  however,  states  that  the  body  of  More  was 
buried  in  St  Luke's  Church,  Chelsea;  "after  he  was 
beheaded,  his  trunke  was  interred  in  Chelsey  Church, 
near  the  middle  of  the  south  wall,  where  was  some  slight 
monument  erected,  which  being  worn  by  time,  about 
1644,  Sir  [John  ?]  Lawrence,  of  Chelsey  (no  kinne  to 
him),  at  his  own  proper  costs  and  charges,  erected  to.  his 
memorie  a  handsome  inscription  of  marble." — {Aubrey  s 
Lives).  The  monument  was  again  restored,  in  1833,  by 
subscription.  It  was  originally  erected,  in  1532,  by 
More  himself,  and  the  epitaph  (in  Latin)  was  written  by 
him.  Over  the  tombs  are  the  crest  of  Sir  Thomas  More  ; 
namely,  a  Moor's  head,  and  the  arms  of  himself  and  his 
two  wives. 

Execution  of  Lady  yane  Grey. 

TlIE  Tower  is  a  remarkable  monument  of  the  great,  yet 
not  to  its  advantage ;  "  for  the  images  of  the  children 
of  Edward  IV.,  of  Anne  Boleyn,  and  Jane  Grey,  and 
of  the  many  innocent  victims  murdered  in  times  of 
despotism  and  tyranny,  pass  like  dark  phantoms  before 
the  mind." 

The  place  of  execution  within  the  Tower,  on  the 
Green,  was  reserved  for  putting  to  death  privately ;  and 
the  precise  spot  whereon  the  scaffold  was  erected  is 
nearly  opposite  the  door  of  the  Chapel  of  St  Peter,  and 


Execution  of  Lady  Jane  Grey.  57 

is  marked  by  a  large  oval  of  dark  flints.  Hereon  many 
of  the  wisest,  the  noblest,  the  best,  and  the  fairest  heads 
of  English  men  and  English  women  of  times  long 
passed  away,  fell  from  such  a  block  and  beneath  the 
stroke  of  such  an  axe,  as  may  now  be  seen  in  the 
armouries.  One  of  the  most  touching  of  these  sad 
scenes  was  the  heroic  end  of  the  accomplished  and 
illustrious  Lady  Jane  Grey.  The  preparations  for  her 
execution  are  thus  detailed  in  "  The  Chronicle  of  Oueen 
Jane : " — 

.  "  By  this  tyme  was  ther  a  scaffolde  made  upon  the 
grene  over  agaynst  the  White  Tower,  for  the  saide  lady 
Jane  to  die  upon.  Who  with  hir  husband  was  appoynted 
to  have  been  put  to  death  the  fryday  before,  but  was 
staied  tyll  then,  for  what  cause  is  not  knowen,  unlesse 
yt  were  because  hir  father  was  not  then  come  into  the 
Tower.  The  saide  ladye  being  nothing  at  all  abashed, 
neither  with  feare  of  her  own  deathe,  which  then 
approached,  neither  with  the  sight  of  the  ded  carcase  of 
hir  husbande,  when  he  was  brought  in  to  the  chappell, 
came  fourthe,  the  levetenant  leding  hir,  in  the  same 
gown  wherin  she  was  arrayned,  hir  countenance  nothing 
abashed,  neither  hir  eyes  eny thing,  moysted  with  teares, 
although  her  ij  gentylwomen,  mistress  Elizabeth  Tylney 
and  mistress  Eleyn,  wonderfully  wept,  with  her  boke  in 
her  hand,  whereon  she  praied  all  the  way  till  she  cam  to 
the  saide  scaffolde,  wheron  when  she  was  mounted,  &c." 

Here  the  diarist  breaks  off.  The  following  account 
of  her  Last  Moments  is  from  the  pamphlet  entitled 
"The  Ende  of  the  Lady  Jane  Dudley." 

"  First,  when  she  mounted  upon  the  scaffolde,  she 
sayd  to  the  people  standing  thereabout:  'Good  people, 
I  am  come  hether  to  die,  and  by  a  lawe  I  am  condemned 


5  8  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

to  the  same.  The  facte,  in  dede,  against  the  quenes 
highnesse  was  unlawfull,  and  the  consenting  thereunto 
by  me:  but  touching  the  procurement  and  desyre  therof 
by  me  or  on  my  halfe,  I  doo  wash  my  handes  therof  in 
innocencie,  before  God,  and  the  face  of  you,  good  Chris- 
tian people,  this  day,'  and  therewith  she  wrong  her 
handes,  in  which  she  had  hir  booke.  Then  she  sayd, 
'  I  pray  you  all,  good  Christian  people,  to  beare  me  wit- 
ness that  I  dye  a  true  Christian  woman,  and  that  I  looke 
to  be  saved  by  none  other  meane  but  only  by  the  mercy 
of  God  in  the  merites  of  the  blood  of  His  only  Sonne 
Jesus  Christ :  and  I  confesse,  when  I  dyd  know  the 
word  of  God  I  neglected  the  same,  loved  my  selfe  and 
the  world,  and  therefore  this  plague  or  punyshment  is 
happely  and  worthely  happened  unto  me  for  my  sins  ; 
and  yet  I  thank  God  of  His  goodnesse  that  He  hath  thus 
geven  me  a  tyme  and  respet  to  repent. 

"'And  now,  good  people,  while  I  am  alyve,  I  pray 
you  to  assyst  me  with  your  prayers.'  And  then,  knelyng 
downe,  she  turned  to  Fecknam,  saying,  'Shall  I  say 
this  psalme  ? '  And  he  said  'Yea.'  Then  she  said  the 
psalme  of  Miserere  mei  Dens  in  English,  in  most  devout 
manner,  to  the  end.  Then  she  stode  up,  and  gave  her 
maiden  mistris  Tilney  her  gloves  and  handkercher,  and 
her  book  to  maister  Bruges,  the  lyvetenantes  brother; 
forthwith  she  untyed  her  gown.  The  hangman  went  to 
her  to  help  her  of  therewith ;  then  she  desyred  him  to 
let  her  alone,  turning  towardes  her  two  gentlewomen, 
who  helped  her  off  therwith,  and  also  with  her  frose 
paast  and  neckercher,  geving  to  her  a  fayre  handkercher 
to  knytte  about  her  eyes.  Then  the  hangman  kneeled 
downe,  and  asked  her  forgevenesse,  whome  she  forgave 
most  willingly.     Then  he  willed  her  to  stand  upon  the 


Where  zvas  Anne  Boleyn  Buried?  59 

strawe  :  whifth  doing,  she  sawe  the  block.  Then  she 
sayd,  '  I  pray  .  you  dispatch  me  quickly.'  Then  she 
kneeled  down,  saying,  '  Wil  you  take  it  of  before  I  lay 
me  downe?'  and  the  hangman  answered  her,  'No, 
Madame.'  SlTe  tyed  the  kercher  about  her  eyes  ;  then 
feeling  for  the  blocke,  saide,  '  What  shall  I  do  ?  Where 
is  it  ? '  One  of  the  standers-by  guyding  her  therunto, 
she  layde  her  heade  down  upon  the  block,  and  stretched 
forth  her  body  and  said:  'Lorde,  into  Thy  hands  I 
commende  my  spirite  ! '     And  so  she  ended." 

Where  was  Anne  Boleyn  Buried? 

THERE  is  a  tradition  at  Salle,  in  Norfolk,  that  the 
remains  of  Anne  Boleyn  were  removed  from  the  Tower, 
and  interred  at  midnight,  with  the  rites  of  Christian 
burial,  in  Salle  Church;  and  that  a  plain,  black  stone, 
without  any  inscription,  is  supposed  to  indicate  the  place 
where  she  was  buried.  In  Blomefield's  Norfolk,  no 
allusion  is  made  to  any  such  tradition,  in  the  accounts 
of  the  Boleyn  family,  and  their  monuments.  Lord 
Herbert  of  Cherbury,  in  his  History  of  King  Henry 
VIII.,  does  not  state  how  or  where  she  was  buried. 
Holinshed,  Stow,  and  Speed  say,  that  her  body,  with 
her  head,  was  buried  in  the  choir  of  the  chapel  in  the 
Tower;  and  Sandford,  that  she  was  buried  in  the  chapel 
of  St  Peter,  in  the  Tower.  Burnet,  who  is  followed  by 
Henry,  Hume,  and  Lingard,  says  that  her  body  was 
thrown  into  a  common  chest  of  elm-tree  that  was  made 
to  put  arrows  in,  and  was  buried  in  the  chapel  within 
the  Tower,  before  twelve  o'clock.  Sharon  Turner  quotes 
the  following  passage  from  Crispin's  account  of  Anne 
Boleyn's  execution,  written  fourteen  days  after  her  death, 


60  Romance  of  London. 

viz.  :  "  Her  ladies  immediately  took  up  her  head  and 
the  body.  They  seemed  to  be  without  souls,  they  were 
so  languid  and  extremely  weak ;  but  fearing  that  their 
mistress  might  be  handled  unworthily  by  inhuman  men, 
they  forced  themselves  to  do  this  duty ;  and  though 
almost  dead,  at  last  carried  off  her  dead  body  wrapt  in  a 
white  covering."  A  letter  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine, 
October  1815,  states:  "The  headless  trunk  of  the 
departed  Queen  was  said  to  be  deposited  in  an  arrow- 
chest,  and  buried  in  the  Tower  Chapel,  before  the  High 
Altar.  Where  that  stood,  the  most  sagacious  antiquary, 
after  a  lapse  of  less  than  300  years,  cannot  now  deter- 
mine ;  nor  is  the  circumstance,  though  related  by 
eminent  writers,  clearly  ascertained.  In  a  cellar,  the 
body  of  a  person  of  short  stature,  without  a  head,  not 
many  years  since  was  found,  and  supposed  to  be  the 
reliques  of  poor  Anne  ;  but  soon  after  reinterred  in  the 
same  place,  and  covered  up." 

The  stone  in  Salle  Church  was  sometime  since  raised, 
but  no  remains  were  to  be  found  underneath  it.  Miss 
Strickland  states  that  a  similar  tradition  is  assigned  to 
a  blackstone  in  the  church  at  Thornden-on-the-Hill :  but 
Morant,  in  his  History  of  Essex,  does  not  notice  it. 


Sir  Walter  Raleigh  Writing  his  "  History 

of  the  World!' 

RALEIGH  was  first  imprisoned  in  the  Tower  in  1592 
(eight  weeks),  for  winning  the  heart  of  Elizabeth  Throg- 
morton,  one  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  maids  of  honour,  "  not 
only  a  moral  sin,  but  in  those  days  a  heinous  political 
offence."  Raleigh's  next  imprisonment  was  in  1603 :  after 


Raleigh's  "History  of  the  World."  61 

being  first  confined  in  his  own  house,  he  was  conveyed 
to  the  Tower,  next  sent  to  Winchester  Gaol,  returned 
from  thence  to  the  Tower,  imprisoned  for  between  two 
and  three  months  in  the  Fleet,  and  again  removed  to 
the  Tower,  where  he  remained  until  his  release,  thirteen 
years  afterwards,  to  undertake  his  new  Expedition  to 
Guiana.  Mr  Payne  Collier  possesses  a  copy  of  that  rare 
tract,  A  Good  Speed  to  Virginia,  4to,  1609,  with  the 
autograph  on  the  title-page,  "  W.  Ralegh,  Turn  Lond.," 
showing  that  at  the  time  this  tract  was  published 
Raleigh  recorded  himself  as  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower  of 
London.  During  part  of  the  time,  Lady  Raleigh  resided 
with  her  husband  ;  and  here,  in  1605,  was  born  Carew, 
their  second  son.  After  she  had  been  forbidden  to 
lodge  with  her  husband  in  the  Tower,  Lady  Raleigh 
lived  on  Tower  Hill. 

At  his  prison-lodging  in  the  Beauchamp  Tower,  Sir 
Walter  wrote  his  political  discourses,  and  commenced 
his  famous  History  of  the  World,  which  he  published  in 
16 14.  Raleigh  wrote  his  History  avowedly  for  his 
patron,  Prince  Henry  of  Wales,  the  heir-apparent  to  the 
throne ;  upon  whose  death  Sir  Walter  is  stated  to  have 
burnt  the  continuation  of  the  work,  which  he  had 
written.  Another  account  in  the  Journal  de  Paris, 
1787,  relates  that  one  day,  while  writing  the  second 
volume,  Raleigh,  being  at  the  window  of  his  apartment, 
and  thinking  gravely  of  the  duty  of  the  historian,  and 
the  respect  due  to  truth,  suddenly  his  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  great  noise  and  tumult  in  the  court  under 
his  eye.  He  saw  a  man  strike  another,  whom,  from  his 
costume,  he  supposed  to  be  an  officer,  and  who,  drawing 
his  sword,  passed  it  through  the  body  of  the  person-  who 
struck  him  ;  but  the  wounded  man  did  not  fall  till  he 


62  Romance  of  London. 

had  knocked  down  his  adversary  with  a  stick.  The 
guard  coming  up  at  this  moment,  seized  the  officer,  and 
led  him  away  ;  while  at  the  same  time  the  body  of  the 
man  who  was  killed  by  the  sword-thrust  was  borne  by 
some  persons,  who  had  great  difficulty  in  penetrating 
the  crowd  which  surrounded  them. 

Next  day  Raleigh  received  a  visit  from  an  intimate 
friend,  to  whom  he  related  the  scene  which  he  had  wit- 
nessed the  preceding  day,  when  his  friend  said  that 
there  was  scarcely  a  word  of  truth  in  any  of  the  circum- 
stances he  had  narrated  ;  that  the  supposed  officer  was 
no  officer  at  all,  but  a  domestic  of  a  foreign  ambassador; 
that  it  was  he  who  gave  the  first  blow ;  that  he  did  not 
draw  his  sword,  but  that  the  other  had  seized  it  and 
passed  it  through  the  body  of  the  domestic  before  any 
one  had  time  to  prevent  him ;  that  at  this  moment  a 
spectator  among  the  crowd  knocked  down  the  murderer 
with  a  stick ;  and  that  some  strangers  bore  away  the 
body  of  the  dead  1 

"  Allow  me  to  tell  you,"  replied  Raleigh  to  his  friend, 
"that  I  may  be  mistaken  about  the  station  of  the 
murderer;  but  all  the  other  circumstances  are  of  the 
greatest  exactitude,  because  I  saw  every  incident  with 
my  own  eyes,  and  they  all  happened  under  my  window 
in  that  very  place  opposite  us  ;  where  you  may  see  one 
of  the  flag-stones  higher  than  the  rest." — "  My  dear 
Raleigh,"  replied  his  friend,  "  it  was  on  that  very  stone 
that  I  was  sitting  when  the  whole  occurred,  and  I 
received  this  little  scratch  that  you  see  on  my  cheek  in 
wrenching  the  sword  out  of  the  hands  of  the  murderer ; 
and,  upon  my  honour,  you  have  deceived  yourself  on  all 
points." 

Sir  Walter,  when  alone,  took  the  manuscript  of  the 


Raleigh  A  ttempts  Suicide  in  the  Tower.  63 

second  volume  of  his  History,  and,  reflecting  upon  what 
had  passed,  said,  "  How  many  falsehoods  must  there  be 
in  this  work !  If  I  cannot  assure  myself  of  an  event 
which  happened  under  my  own  eyes,  how  can  I  venture 
to  describe  those  which  occurred  thousands  of  years 
before  I  was  born,  or  those  even  which  have  passed  at 
a  distance  since  my  birth  ?  Truth !  truth  !  this  is  the 
sacrifice  that  I  owe  thee."  Upon  which  he  threw  his 
manuscript,  the  work  of  years,  into  the  fire,  and  watched 
it  tranquilly  consumed  to  the  last  leaf.* 


Sir  Walter  Raleigh  Attempts  Suicide  in 

the  Tower. 

JAMES  T.  had  not  long  been  seated  on  the  throne  before 
two  or  three  plots  against  him  were  discovered.  Among 
these  was  one  named  the  Spanish  or  Lord  Cobham's 
treason,  to  which  he  wickedly  declared  he  had  been 
instigated  by  Raleigh ;  and,  although  Cobham,  shortly 
afterwards,  fully  and  solemnly  retracted  all  that  he  had 
said  against  Sir  Walter,  he  was  committed  to  the  Tower, 
on  a  charge  of  high  treason,  in  July  1602.  While  there 
he  made  an  attempt  at  suicide  by  stabbing  himself, 
aiming  at  the  heart,  but  he  only  succeeded  in  inflicting 
a  deep  wound  in  the  left  breast.  We  have  Cecil's  written 
word  for  this ;  it  was  long  disputed.  The  following 
letter  which  Raleigh  wrote  to  his  wife  before  he  com- 
mitted the  act,  is  from  a  contemporary  copy,  transcribed 
from  Serjeant  Yelverton's  Collectionin  All-Souls' College, 
Oxford. 

*  Abridged  from  Curiosities  of  History,  1S57. 


64  Romance  of  London. 


"  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  to  his  Wife,  after  he  had  hurt 
himself  in  the  Toiver. 

"Receive  from  thy  unfortunate  husband  these  his 
last  lines,  these  the  last  words  that  ever  thou  wilt  receive 
from  him.  That  I  can  live  to  think  never  to  see  thee 
and  my  child  more,  I  cannot.  I  have  desired  God  and 
disputed  with  my  reason,  but  nature  and  compassion 
hath  the  victory.  That  I  can  live  to  think  how  you  are 
both  left  a  spoil  to  my  enemies,  and  that  my  name 
shall  be  a  dishonour  to  my  child,  I  cannot,  I  cannot 
endure  the  memory  thereof:  unfortunate  woman,  un- 
fortunate child,  comfort  yourselves,  trust  God,  and 
be  contented  with  your  poor  estate.  I  would  have 
bettered  it  if  I  had  enjoyed  a  few  years.  Thou  art  a 
young  woman,  and  forbear  not  to  marry  again :  it  is 
now  nothing  to  me ;  thou  art  no  more  mine,  nor  I  thine. 
To  witness  that  thou  didst  love  me  once,  take  care  that 
thou  marry  not  to  please  sense,  but  to  avoid  poverty, 
and  to  preserve  thy  child.  That  thou  didst  also  love  me 
living,  witness  it  to  others ;  to  my  poor  daughter,  to 
whom  I  have  given  nothing ;  for  his  sake,  who  will  be 
cruel  to  himself  to  preserve  thee.  Be  charitable  to  her, 
and  teach  thy  son  to  love  her  for  his  father's  sake.  For 
myself,  I  am  left  of  all  men  that  have  done  good  to 
many.  All  my  good  terms  forgotten,  all  my  errors 
revived  and  expounded  to  all  extremity  of  ill ;  all  my 
services,  hazards,  and  expenses  for  my  country,  plantings, 
discoveries,  flights,  councils,  and  whatsoever  else,  malice 
hath  now  covered  over.  I  am  now  made  an  enemy  and 
traitor  by  the  word  of  an  unworthy  man ;  he  hath  pro- 
claimed me  to  be  a  partaker  of  his  vain  imaginations, 


Raleigh  Attempts  Suicide  in  tlie  Tower.  65 

notwithstanding  the  whole  course  of  my  life  hath 
approved  the  contrary,  as  my  death  shall  approve  it. 
Woe,  woe,  woe  be  unto  him  by  whose  falsehood  we  are 
lost !  he  hath  separated  us  asunder  ;  he  hath  slain  my 
honour,  my  fortune ;  he  hath  robbed  thee  of  thy  husband, 
thy  child  of  his  father,  and  me  of  you  both.  O  God  ! 
Thou  dost  know  my  wrongs ;  know  then,  thou  my  wife 
and  child  :  know  then,  Thou  my  Lord  and  King,  that  I 
ever  thought  them  too  honest  to  betray,  and  too  good 
to  conspire  against.  But  my  wife,  forgive  thou  all  as  I 
do ;  live  humble,  for  thou  hast  but  a  time  also.  God 
forgive  my  Lord  Harry  (Cobham),  for  he  was  my  heavy 
enemy.  And  for  my  Lord  Cecil,  I  thought  he  never 
would  forsake  me  in  extremity ;  I  would  not  have  done 
it  him,  God  knows.  But  do  not  thou  know  it,  for  he 
must  be  master  of  thy  child,  and  may  have  compassion 
of  him.  Be  not  dismayed  that  I  died  in  despair  of 
God's  mercies ;  strive  not  to  dispute  it,  but  assure 
thyself  that  God  hath  not  left  me,  and  Satan  tempted 
me.  Hope  and  despair  live  not  together.  I  know  it  is 
forbidden  to  destroy  ourselves,  but  I  trust  it  is  forbidden 
in  this  sort,  that  we  destroy  not  ourselves  despairing  of 
God's  mercy. 

"The  mercy  of  God  is  immeasurable,  the  cogitations 
of  men  comprehend  it  not.  In  the  Lord  I  have  ever 
trusted,  and  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth :  far  is  it 
from  me  to  be  tempted  with  Satan  :  I  am  only  tempted 
with  sorrow,  whose  sharp  teeth  devour  my  heart.  O  God, 
Thou  art  goodness  itself,  Thou  canst  not  be  but  good  to 
me !  O  God,  Thou  art  mercy  itself,  Thou  canst  not  be 
but  merciful  to  me  ! 

"For  my  state  is  conveyed  to  feoffees,  to  your  cousin 

Brett  and  others  ;  I  have  but  a  bare  estate  for  a  short  life 
vol.  1.  1; 


66  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

My  plate  is  at  gage  in  Lombard  Street ;  my  debts  are 
many.  To  Peter  Vanlore,  some  £600.  To  Antrobus 
as  much,  but  Cumpson  is  to  pay  ^300  of  it.  To 
Michel  Hext  (Hickes),  ;£ioo.  To  George  Carew,  ;£ioo. 
To  Nicholas  Sanders,  .£100.  To  John  Fitzjames,  £100. 
To  MrWaddom,  £100.  To  a  poor  man,  one  Hawker, 
for  horses,  £jo.  To  a  poor  man  called  Hunt,  £"20. 
Take  first  care  of  these,  for  God's  sake.  To  a  brewer, 
at  Weymouth,  and  a  baker  for  my  Lord  Cecill's  ship 
and  mine,  I  think  some  £2>o  ;  John  Renolds  knowethit. 
And  let  that  poor  man  have  his  true  part  of  my  return 
from  Virginia  ;  and  let  the  poor  men's  wages  be  paid 
with  the  goods,  for  the  Lord's  sake.  Oh,  what  will  my 
poor  servants  think  at  their  return,  when  they  hear  I 
am  accused  to  be  Spanish,  who  sent  them,  to  my  great 
charge,  to  plant  and  discover  upon  his  territory !  Oh, 
intolerable  infamy !  O  God  !  I  cannot  resist  these 
thoughts  ;  I  cannot  live  to  think  how  I  am  derided,  to 
think  of  the  expectation  of  my  enemies,  the  scorns  I 
shall  receive,  the  cruel  words  of  lawyers,  the  infamous 
taunts  and  despites,  to  be  made  a  wonder  and  a  spec- 
tacle !  O  death  !  hasten  thee  unto  me,  that  thou 
mayest  destroy  the  memory  of  these,  and  lay  me  up  in 
dark  forgetfulness.  O  death !  destroy  my  memory, 
which  is  my  tormenter  ;  my  thoughts  and  my  life  can- 
not dwell  in  one  body,  But  do  thou  forget  me,  poor 
wife,  that  thou  mayest  live  to  bring  up  thy  poor  child. 
I  recommend  unto  you  my  poor  brother,  A.  Gilbert. 
The  lease  of  Sanding  is  his,  and  none  of  mine  :  let  him 
have  it,  for  God's  cause ;  he  knows  what  is  due  to  me 
upon  it.  And  be  good  to  Kemis,  for  he  is  a  perfect 
honest  man,  and  hath  much  wrong  for  my  sake.  For 
the  rest,  I  commend  me  to  them,  and  them  to  God. 


Execution  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  67 

And  the  Lord  knows  my  sorrow  to  part  from  thee  and 
my  poor  child ;  but  part  I  must  by  enemies  and  injuries, 
part  with  shame  and  triumph  of  my  detractors  ;  and 
therefore  be  contented  with  this  work  of  God,  and  for- 
get me  in  all  things  but  thine  own  honour,  and  the  love 
of  mine.  I  bless  my  poor  child,  and  let  him  know  his 
father  was  no  traitor.  Be  bold  of  my  innocence,  for 
God,  to  whom  I  offer  my  life  and  soul,  knows  it.  And 
whosoever  thou  choose  again  after  me,  let  him  be  but 
thy  politique  husband  ;  but  let  my  son  be  thy  beloved, 
for  he  is  part  of  me,  and  I  live  in  him,  and  the  difference 
is  but  in  the  number,  and  not  in  the  kind.  And  the 
Lord  for  ever  keep  thee  and  them,  and  give  thee  com- 
fort in  both  worlds." 

This  document,  the  genuineness  of  which  is  accre- 
dited, at  once  determines  the  much-vexed  question, 
whether  or  not  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  did  attempt  to  stab 
himself  in  the  Tower. 

The  Execution  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

RALEIGH  was  executed  on  the  29th  of  October  (old 
style)  161 8,  in  Old  Palace  Yard,  at  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing of  Lord  Mayor's  Day,  "  so  that  the  pageants  and 
fine  shewes  might  draw  away  the  people  from  beholding 
the  tragedie  of  one  of  the  gallantest  worthies  that  ever 
England  bred."  Early  in  the  morning  his  keeper 
brought  a  cup  of  sack  to  him,  and  inquired  how  he 
was  pleased  with  it.  "As  well  as  he  who  drank  of 
St  Giles's  bowl  as  he  rode  to  Tyburn,"  answered  the 
;ht,  and  said  it  was  good  drink,  if  a  man  might 
but  tarry  by  it.  "  Prithee,  never  fear,  Ceeston,"  cried 
he  to  his  old  friend   Sir  Hugh,  who  was  repulsed  from 


6S  Romance  of  London. 

the  scaffold  by  the  sheriff,  "  I  shall  have  a  place  !  "  A 
man  bald  from  extreme  age  pressed  forward  "  to  see 
him,"  he  said,  "  and  pray  God  for  him."  Raleigh  took 
a  richly- embroidered  cap  from  his  own  head,  and 
placing  it  on  that  of  the  old  man,  said,  "  Take  this, 
good  friend,  to  remember  me,  for  you  have  more  need 
on  it  than  I."  "  Farewell,  my  lords,"  was  his  cheerful 
parting  to  a  courtly  group  who  affectionately  took  their 
leave  of  him,  "  I  have  a  long  journey  before  me,  and 
I  must  e'en  say  good  by."  "  Now  I  am  going  to  God," 
said  that  heroic  spirit,  as  he  trod  the  scaffold,  and, 
gently  touching  the  axe,  added,  "  This  is  a  sharp  medi- 
cine, but  it  will  cure  all  diseases."  The  very  headsman 
shrank  from  beheading  one  so  illustrious  and  brave, 
until  the  unquailing  soldier  addressed  him,  "  What 
dost  thou  fear  ?  Strike,  man  !  "  In  another  moment 
the  mighty  soul  had  fled  from  its  mangled  tenement. 

Cayley  adds  :  The  head,  after  being  shown  on  either 
side  of  the  scaffold,  was  put  into  a  leather  bag,  over 
which  Sir  Walter's  gown  was  thrown,  and  the  whole 
conveyed  away  in  a  mourning-coach  by  Lady  Raleigh. 
It  was  preserved  by  her  in  a  case  during  the  twenty- 
nine  years  which  she  survived  her  husband,  and  after- 
wards with  no  less  piety  by  their  affectionate  son  Carew, 
with  whom  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  buried  at  West 
Horsley,  in  Surrey.  The  body  was  interred  in  the 
chancel  near  the  altar  of  St  Margaret's,  Westminster. 

In  the  Pepys  Collection  at  Cambridge  is  a  ballad  with 
the  following  title  :  "Sir  Walter  Rauleigh  his  Lamenta- 
tion, who  was  beheaded  in  the  Old  Pallace  of  West- 
minster the  29th  of  October  1618.  To  the  tune  of 
Welladay." 


Poisoning  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury.  69 


The  Poisoning  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury. 

ONE  of  the  most  monstrous  episodes  of  the  corrupt  reign 
of  James  I.  was  the  terrible  means  by  which  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury,  who  had  strenuously  exerted  his  influence  to 
prevent  the  marriage  of  the  Earl  of  Somerset  with  Lady 
Essex,  was,  first  by  the  contrivance  of  the  unprincipled 
woman  whom  he  had  already  made  his  enemy,  thrown 
into  the  Tower ;  and  soon  after  taken  off  by  poison 
administered  to  him  by  her  means,  and  with  the  privity 
of  her  husband.  She  owed  much  of  the  depravity  of  her 
disposition  to  the  pernicious  lessons  of  Mrs  Turner,  who 
lived  as  a  dependent  and  companion  to  Lady  Essex  in 
the  house  of  the  Earl  of  Suffolk.  This  abandoned 
woman  afterwards  became  the  wife  of  a  physician,  at 
whose  death,  owing  to  their  extravagant  and  riotous 
living,  she  was  left  in  very  straitened  circumstances,  and 
only  the  more  ready  to  become  the  agent  of  wicked 
purposes.  Sir  Thomas  Overbury  "  made  his  brags  " 
that  he  had  won  for  Somerset  the  love  of  his  lady  by  his 
letters  and  industry:  "To  speak  plainly,"  says  Bacon, 
"  Overbury  had  little  that  was  solid  for  religion  or  moral 
virtue,  but  was  wholly  possest  with  ambition  and  vain- 
glory: he  was  naught  and  corrupt;  a  man  of  unbounded 
and  impudent  spirit."  Mrs  Turner,  through  her  poverty, 
was  only  too  glad  to  become  again  the  confidante  and 
adviser  of  Lady  Essex,  to  whom  Rochester  had  betrayed 
Overbury,  who  had  enlarged  to  him  on  the  depraved 
character  of  his  proposed  wife.  Thereupon,  the  Countess 
vowed  the  destruction  of  Overbury.  First,  she  offered 
;£iCOO  to  Sir  John  Wood  to  murder  the  object  of  her 
resentment    in    a    duel.       Then    she    concocted    with 


70  "     Romance  of  London. 

Rochester  a  scheme  by  which,  by  a  representation  to 
King  James,  Overbury,  on  the  ground  of  having  shown 
contempt  for  the  royal  authority,  was  committed  to  the 
Tower,  where  he  was  detained  a  close  prisoner  under  the 
guardianship  of  a  new  lieutenant,  wholly  in  the  interest 
of  his  enemies,  who  had  procured  the  removal  of  the 
former  lieutenant  of  the  fortress. 

Sir  Thomas  Overbury  was  found  dead  in  the  Tower, 
from  an  infectious  disease,  as  was  alleged  ;  and  he  was 
hastily  and  secretly  buried,  according  to  the  register 
of  the 'Chapel  in  the  Tower,  Sept.  15,  161 3.  He  was 
strongly  suspected  to  have  been  poisoned  ;  but  the 
matter  was  passed  over  without  investigation,  and  the 
crime  was  not  fully  discovered  until  two  years  after  its 
commission.  A  new  minion  now  appeared  at  Court, 
and  the  fickle  King  resolved  to  get  rid  of  his  former 
favourite.  On  a  warrant  from  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Coke,  Somerset  and  his  wife  were  arrested  for  having 
occasioned  the  death  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury  ;  and 
along  with  them  persons  of  inferior  rank  who  had  acted 
as  their  accomplices.  These  were  Mrs  Turner ;  Ehves, 
the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower;  Weston,  the  warder,  who 
had  been  entrusted  with  the  immediate  custody  of  Over- 
bury ;  and  Franklin,  the  apothecary.  It  appeared  on 
the  trial  that  Mrs  Turner  and  the  Countess  of  Somerset 
had  had  frequent  consultations  with  Simon  Forman, 
a  noted  dealer  in  love-philtres,  then  in  high  fashion  : 
he  was  also  a  conjuror,  and  died  on  the  day  he  had 
prognosticated,  which  was  before  the  Overbury  pro- 
ceedings had  been  instituted.  It  did  not  appear  that 
Forman  had  any  active  concern  in  the  murder  ;  but  it 
was  proved  that  Mrs  Turner  procured  the  poison  from 
Franklin,  the  apothecary,  and  handing  it  to  the  warder, 


Poisoning  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury.  7 1 

Weston,  the  latter,  under  her  instructions,  and  with  the 
complicity  of  the  Lieutenant,  administered  it.  In  that 
rare  book,  Truth  brought  to  Light  by  Time,  we  read 
that  Overbury  was  poisoned  with  aquafortis,  white 
arsenic,  mercury,  powder  of  diamonds,  lapis  cortilus, 
great  spiders,  and  cantharides, — whatever  was,  or  was 
believed  to  be,  most  deadly,  "to  be  sure  to  hit  his  com- 
plexion." The  poisoning  was  perpetrated  with  fiendish 
perseverance.  It  appeared  in  evidence  that  arsenic 
was  always  mixed  with  his  salt.  Once  he  desired  pig 
for  dinner,  and  Mrs  Turner  put  into  it  lapis  cortilus  ; 
at  another  time  he  had  two  partridges  sent  him  from 
the  Court,  and  water  and  onions  being  the  sauce,  Mrs 
Turner  put  in  cantharides  instead  of  pepper;  so  that 
whatever  Overbury  took  was  poisoned. 

The  guilt  of  all  the  parties  was  completely  established, 
and  they  were  executed  at  Tyburn.  Mrs  Turner  was 
hanged  on  the  15th  of  November  161 5,  and  excited 
immense  interest.  She  was  a  woman  of  great  beauty, 
and  had  much  affected  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Her 
sentence  was  to  be  "hang'd  at  Tiburn  in  her  yellow 
Tiffiny  Ruff  and  Cuff,  she  being  the  first  inventor  and 
wearer  of  that  horrid  garb."  The  Ruff  and  Cuff  were 
got  up  with  yellow  starch,  and  in  passing  her  sentence, 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Coke  told  her  that  she  had  been 
guilty  of 'the  seven  deadly  sins,  and  declared  that  as  she 
was  the  inventor  of  the  yellow  starched  ruffs  and  cuffs, 
so  he  hoped  that  she  would  be  the  last  by  whom  they 
would  be  worn.  He  accordingly  ordered  that  she  should 
be  handed  in  the  sear  she  ha(1  mac|e  so  fashionable. 
The  execution  attracted  an  immense  crowd  to  Tyburn, 
and  many  persons  of  quality,  ladies  as  well  as  gentle- 
men, in  their  coaches.     Mrs  Turner  had  dressed  herself 


72  Romance  of  London. 

specially  for  her  execution  :  her  face  was  highly  rouged, 
and  she  wore  a  cobweb-lawn  ruff,  yellow  starched  :  an 
account  printed  next  day,  states  that  "  Her  hands  were 
bound  with  a  black  silk  ribbon,  as  she  desired,  and  a 
black  veil,  which  she  wore  upon  her  head,  being  pulled 
over  her  face  by  the  executioners  ;  the  cart  was  driven 
away,  and  she  left  hanging,  in  whom  there  was  no 
motion  at  all  perceived."  She  made  a  very  penitent 
end.  As  if  to  insure  the  condemnation  of  yellow  starch, 
the  hangman  had  his  hands  and  cuffs  of  yellow, 
"which,"  says  Sir  S.  D'Ewes,  "made  many  after  that 
day,  of  either  sex,  to  forbear  the  use  of  that  coloured 
starch,  till  it  at  last  grew  generally  to  be  detested  and 
disused." 

The  two  principal  criminals,  the  wretched  Somerset 
and  his  wife,  had  their  better  merited  punishment  com- 
muted into  confiscation  of  their  property,  and  an  im- 
prisonment of  some  years  in  the  Tower. 

A  Farewell  Feast  in  the  Tower. 

Bishop  Gardiner  was  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  while 
Sir  John  Markham  was  lieutenant  of  the  fortress  ;  at 
which  period,  the  long  examinations  published  in  the 
first  edition  of  Foxe's  A ctes  and  Alonuments,  disclose  a 
remarkable  picture  of  what  occurred  when  a  prisoner  of 
high  rank  received  his  discharge.  At  Midsummer,  in 
155 1,  the  bishop  was  daily  expecting  that  this  would  be 
his  happy  lot,  and  he,  therefore,  commanded  his  servant, 
John  Davy,  to  write  the  rewards,  duties,  and  gifts  due 
to  Master  Lieutenant,  and  the  Knight-Marshal,  and  the 
King's  servants,  such  as  he  intended  to  bestow  on  his 
departing.     He  also  caused  him  to  send  for  a  piece  of 


The  Gunpowder  Plot  Detected.  73 

satin,  to  be  divided  among  the  Lady  Markham  and 
others,  as  he  should  think  meet:  which  satin  was  bought, 
and  this  deponent  (John  Davy)  had  the  most  part  thereof 
in  keeping.  Also  the  said  bishop,  about  the  same  time, 
made  his  farewell  feast  (as  they  then  called  it)  in  the 
Council-chamber  in  the  Tower,  containing  two  or  three 
dinners,  whereat  he  had  the  Lieutenant  and  the  Knight- 
Marshal  and  their  wives,  with  divers  others,  as  Sir 
Arthur  Darcy  and  the  lady  his  wife,  Sir  Martin  Bowes, 
Sir  John  Godsalve,  with  divers  others,  such  as  it  pleased 
the  Lieutenant  and  Knight-Marshal  to  bring. 

Sir  John  Markham  the  Lieutenant,  and  Sir  Ralph 
Hopton  the  Knight-Marshal,  when  examined  on  the 
same  occasion,  both  asserted  that  the  bishop  called  it 
his  farewell  supper  ;  but  when  asked  whether  there  was 
"  any  custom  of  any  such  farewell  supper  to  be  made  of 
the  prisoners  when  leaving  the  Tower?"  they  answered 
that  they  could  not  depose. 

Before  the  above  period,  Sir  John  Gage  was  Con- 
stable of  the  Tower,  but,  as  a  Roman  Catholic,  much 
distrusted  ;  wherefore  the  government  of  the  fortress 
rested  chiefly  with  the  Lieutenant.  But  it  appears 
that  the  same  distrust  extended  towards  Sir  John 
Markham. 


The  Gunpowder  Plot  Detected. 

The  materials  for  elucidating  the  causes,  circumstances, 
and  consequences  of  the  Powder  Plot  have  been  sifted 
over  and  over  again  ;  notwithstanding  the  abundance  of 
documents  in  the  State  Paper  Office,  they  are  not  so 
complete  as  they  were  once  known  to  be  ;  and  "  it  is 
remarkable  that  precisely  those  papers  which  contribute 


74  Romance  of  London. 

the  most  important  evidence  against  Garnet  and  the 
other  Jesuits  are  missing." — (Mr  Jardine's  Narrative') 
The  Plot-room,  in  which  the  plot  was  hatched,  is  shown 
to  this  day  in  Catesby  Hall,  near  Daventry ;  the  dark 
lantern  which  Guido  Fawkes  carried  when  apprehended, 
is  shown  in  the  Ashmolean  collection  at  Oxford  ;  and 
the  famous  monitory  letter  to  Lord  Mounteagle  is 
preserved  in  our  Parliament  Offices :  but  the  tangled 
thread  of  the  foul  transaction  remains  to  be  unravelled 
— to  show  how  "  seven  gentlemen  of  name  and  blood," 
as  Fawkes  called  the  conspirators,  attempted  to  proceed 
to  the  extremity  of  "  murdering  a  kingdom  in  its  chief 
representatives." 

The  plot  originated  in  the  discontents  of  the  Roman 
Catholics  under  James  I.,  and  ended  with  the  detection, 
examination,  and  execution  of  the  principal  conspirators. 

The  first  meeting  of  five  of  them — Catesby,  Wright, 
Winter,  Fawkes,  and  Percy,  took  place  at  a  house  in 
the  fields  beyond  St  Clement's  Lane,  where,  having 
severally  taken  an  oath  of  secrecy  and  fidelity,  the 
design  was  discussed  and  approved  ;  after  which  they  all 
adjourned  to  an  upper  room  in  the  same  house,  where 
they  heard  mass  and  received  the  sacrament  from  Father 
Gerard,  a  Jesuit  missionary,  in  confirmation  of  their  vow. 
Next  was  purchased  a  house,  with  a  garden  attached 
to  it,  next  door  to  the  Parliament  House,  by  Percy,  a 
relative  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland,  under  the 
pretence  of  using  it  as  his  official  residence,  he  being  a 
gentleman  pensioner.  The  keys  of  this  house  were 
confided  to  Fawkes,  who  was  not  known  in  town,  and 
who  was  to  act  as  Percy's  servant.  From  the  cellar  of 
this  house  a  mine  was  to  be  made  through  the  wall  of 
the  Parliament  House,  and  a  quantity  of  combustibles 


The  Gunpowder  Plot  Detected.  75 

was  then  to  be  deposited  beneath  the  House  of  Lords. 
To  facilitate  operations,  another  house  was  taken  at 
Lambeth,  where  the  necessary  timber  and  combustibles 
were  collected  in  small  quantities,  and  removed  by  night 
to  the  house  at  Westminster.  A  man  named  Keyes, 
who  had  been  recently  received  into  the  conspiracy, 
was  placed  in  charge  at  Lambeth;  and  he,  with  John 
Wright's  brother,  Christopher,  were  enlisted  to  assist  in 
the  construction  of  the  mine. 

On  the  nth  December  1604,  the  "seven  gentlemen" 
entered  the  house  late  at  night,  having  provided  them- 
selves with  tools,  and  a  quantity  of  hard-boiled  eggs, 
baked  meats,  and  patties,  to  avoid  exciting  suspicion  by 
going  abroad  frequently  for  provisions.  All  day  long 
they  worked  at  the  mine,  carrying  the  earth  and  rubbish 
into  a  little  building  in  the  garden,  spreading  it  about 
and  covering  it  carefully  over  with  turf.  In  this  manner, 
these  determined  men  worked  away  at  a  wall  three  yards 
in  thickness,  without  intermission,  until  Christmas  eve; 
Fawkes  wore  a  porter's  frock  over  his  clothes,  by  way  of 
disguise.  At  the  same  time  they  consulted  respecting 
ulterior  measures  ;  planned  the  seizure  of  the  Duke  of 
Vork,  afterwards  Charles  I.,  and  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth ; 
they  also  arranged  for  the  general  rendezvous  in  War- 
wickshire, where,  soon  after,  they  enlisted  various  other 
confederates. 

Parliament  was  now  unexpectedly  prorogued  on  the 
7th  February ;  the  execution  of  the  plot  was  thus 
postponed  for  a  year.  The  conspirators  resumed  their 
labours  in  F*ebruary,  when  they  had  half-pierced 
through  the  stone,  wall  by  great  perseverance  and 
exertion.  Father  Grecnway  remarks,  that  it  seemed 
incredible  how  men  of  their  quality  could  undergo  such 


j6  Romance  of  London. 

severe  toil,  and  especially  how  Catesby  and  Percy,  who 
were  unusually  tall  men,  could  endure  the  intense  fatigue 
of  working  day  and  night  in  a  stooping  posture.  Their 
operations  were  not  carried  on  without  occasional  alarms, 
notwithstanding  their  precautions.  "  They  were  one 
day  surprised  by  the  tolling  of  a  bell,  which  seemed  to 
proceed  from  the  middle  of  the  wall  under  the  Parlia- 
ment House.  All  suspended  their  labour  and  listened 
with  alarm  and  uneasiness  to  the  mysterious  sound. 
Fawkes  was  sent  for  from  his  station  above.  The  tolling- 
still  continued,  and  was  distinctly  heard  by  him  as  well 
as  the  others.  Much  wondering  at  this  prodigy,  they 
sprinkled  the  wall  with  holy  water,  when  the  sound 
immediately  ceased.  Upon  this  they  resumed  their 
labour,  and  after  a  short  time  the  tolling  commenced 
again,  and  again  was  silenced  by  the  application  of  holy 
water.  This  process  was  repeated  frequently  for  several 
days,  till  at  length  the  unearthly  sound  was  heard  no 
more." — {jardine^) 

Shortly  after  this  alarm,  one  morning,  while  working 
upon  the  wall,  they  heard  a  rustling  noise  in  a  cellar 
nearly  above  their  heads.  At  first,  they  thought  they 
were  discovered :  but  Fawkes,  being  despatched  to 
reconnoitre,  it  turned  out  that  the  occupier  of  the  cellar 
was  selling  off  his  coals  in  order  to  remove,  and  that  the 
noise  proceeded  from  this  cause.  Fawkes  carefully 
surveyed  the  place,  which  proved  to  be  a  large  vault 
immediately  under  the  House  of  Lords,  and  very  con- 
venient for  their  purpose.  The  difficulty  of  carrying  the 
mine  through  the  wall  had  lately  very  much  increased. 
Besides  the  danger  of  discovery  from  the  heavy  blows  in 
working  the  stone  foundations,  as  the  work  extended 
towards  the  river,  the  water  began  to  flow  in  upon  them, 


The  Gunpowder  Plot  Detected.  jj 

and  not  only  impeded  their  progress,  but  showed  that 
the  mine  would  be  an  improper  depository  for  the 
powder  and  combustibles.  The  cellar  had  now  become 
vacant,  and  it  was  hired  in  Percy's  name,  under  the 
pretext  that  he  wanted  it  for  the  reception  of  his  own 
coals  and  wood.  The  mine  was  abandoned,  and  about 
twenty  barrels  of  powder  were  forthwith  carried  by  night 
across  the  river  from  Lambeth,  and  placed  in  the  cellar 
in  hampers  ;  large  stones  and  the  iron  bars  and  other 
tools  used  by  them  in  mining  were  thrown  into  the 
barrels  among  the  powder,  the  object  of  which  Fawkes 
afterwards  declared  to  be  "  to  make  the  breach  the 
greater,"  and  the  whole  was  covered  over  with  faggots 
and  billets  of  wood.  In  order  to  complete  the  deception, 
they  also  placed  a  considerable  quantity  of  lumber  and 
empty  bottles  in  the  cellar. 

The  preparations  were  complete  about  the  beginning 
of  May  1605.  They  then  carefully  closed  the  vault,  hav- 
ing first  placed  certain  marks  about  the  door  inside, 
by  which  they  might,  at  any  time,  ascertain  if  it  had 
been  entered  in  their  absence  ;  and,  as  Parliament  was 
not  to  meet  till  the  3rd  October,  they  agreed  to  separate 
for  some  months,  lest  suspicion  might  arise  from  their 
being  seen  together  in  London. 

In  the  meantime,  fresh  and  wealthy  accessions  were 
made  to  the  ranks  of  the  conspirators  ;  and  Sir  Everard 
Digby,  Ambrose  Rookwood,  Francis  Tresham,  and  the 
Littletons,  three  Roman  Catholic  gentlemen  of  station, 
were  drawn  into  the  plot.  To  meet  any  power  which 
might  be  brought  against  them  after  the  blow  was 
struck,  Catesby  had  raised  a  body  of  horsemen,  under 
the  pretence  that  they  were  for  the  service  in  the 
Spanish  force  in  Flanders. 


78  Romance  of  London. 

The  great  day  (November  5)  at  length  approached, 
and  the  confederates  held  frequent  consultations  at  a 
lone  house  near  Enfield  Chase,  and  another  alike  solitary 
on  the  Marches  near  Erith.  Here  their  plan  of  operations 
was  completed.  A  list  of  all  the  Peers  and  Commoners 
whom  it  was  thought  desirable  to  save  was  made  out, 
and  it  was  resolved  that  each  of  these  should  on  the  very 
morning  receive  an  urgent  message  to  withdraw  himself 
from  Westminster.  To  Guy  FaAvkes,  as  a  man  of  tried 
courage  and  self-possession,  was  allotted  the  perilous 
office  of  firing  the  mine.  This  he  was  to  perform  by 
means  of  a  slow  match  which  would  allow  him  time  to 
escape  to  a  vessel  provided  in  the  river  for  the  purpose 
of  conveying  him  to  Flanders. 

It  has  been  commonly  supposed  that  the  plot  was 
discovered  through  Tresham's  misgivings  and  desire 
towards  his  friends  :  he  was  especially  anxious  to  warn 
Lord  Mounteagle,  who  had  married  Tresham's  sister. 
Catesby  hesitated,  whereupon  Tresham  suggested  further 
delay  on  the  ground  that  he  could  not,  unless  time  was 
allowed  him,  furnish  the  money  he  had  engaged  to  pro- 
vide. This  proposal  confirmed  the  suspicions  which 
Catesby  entertained  of  Tresham's  fidelity,  but  he  thought 
it  prudent  to  dissemble. 

On  Saturday,  the  26th  of  October,  ten  days  before 
the  intended  meeting  of  Parliament,  Lord  Mounteagle 
ordered  a  supper  to  be  prepared,  not  at  his  residence  in 
town,  but  at  a  house  belonging  to  him  at  Hoxton. 
While  at  table  in  the  evening  a  letter  was  delivered  to 
him  by  one  of  his  pages,  who  said  he  received  it  from 
a  tall  man  whose  features  he  did  not  recognise.  Mount- 
eagle opened  the  letter,  and  seeing  that  it  had  neither 
signature  nor  date,  requested  a  gentleman  in  his  service, 


The  Gunpowder  Plot  Detected.  79 

named  Ward,  to  read  it  aloud.  This  letter  is  too  well 
known  to  need  reprinting  here.  On  the  following  day 
the  very  gentleman  who  had  read  the  letter  at  Mount- 
eagle's  table  called  on  Thomas  Winter  and  related  the 
occurrence  of  the  preceding  evening;  adding  that  his 
Lordship  had  laid  the  mysterious  missive  before  the 
Secretary  of  State  ;  and  ending  by  conjuring  him,  if 
he  were  a  party  to  the  plot  which  the  letter  hinted  at,  to 
fly  at  once. 

Winter  affected  to  treat  the  affair  as  a  hoax  ;  but,  as 
soon  as  possible,  he  communicated  the  intelligence  to  his 
colleague.  Catesby  instantly  suspected  that  Tresham 
was  the  writer.  Three  days  later,  in  consequence  of 
an  urgent  message,  Tresham  ventured  to  meet  Catesby 
and  Winter  in  Enfield  Chase.  On  being  taxed  with 
treachery,  he  repelled  the  charge,  and  maintained  his 
innocence  with  so  many  oaths,  that,  although  they  had 
resolved  to  despatch  him,  they  hesitated  to  take  his  life 
on  bare  suspicion.  Fawkes  was  then  sent  to  examine 
the  cellar.  He  found  all  safe.  Upon  his  return  they 
told  him  of  the  intelligence  they  had  got,  and  excused 
themselves  for  sending  him  on  so  dangerous  an  errand. 
Fawkes,  with  characteristic  coolness,  declared  he  should 
have  gone  with  equal  readiness  if  he  had  known  of  the 
letter ;  in  proof  of  which  he  undertook  to  revisit  the 
cellar  once  every  day  till  the  5th  of  November. 

On  the  3rd  of  November  the  conspirators  were  apprised 
by  Ward  that  the  letter  had  been  shown  to  the  King, 
A  council  was  held :  some  proposed  to  fly ;  others 
refused  to  credit  the  story  ;  and,  finally,  they  resolved 
to  await  the  return  of  Percy.  Percy  exerted  all  his  _ 
powers  to  reassure  his  associates,  and,  after  much  dis- 
cussion, Fawkes  agreed  to  keep  guard  within  the  cellar, 


80  Romance  of  London. 

Percy  and  Winter  to  superintend  the  operations  in  Lon- 
don, and  Catesby  and  John  Wright  departed  for  the 
general  rendezvous  at  Dunchurch.  We  now  reach  the 
catastrophe.  On  Monday  afternoon,  Nov.  4,  the  Lord 
Chamberlain,  whose  province  it  was  to  ascertain  that 
the  needful  preparations  were  made  for  the  opening  of 
the  Session,  visited  the  Parliament  House,  and,  in  com- 
pany with  Lord  Mounteagle,  entered  the  vault.  He 
asked  who  occupied  the  cellar  ;  and  then,  fixing  his  eye 
on  Fawkes,  who  pretended  to  be  Percy's  servant,  he 
observed  there  was  a  large  quantity  of  fuel  for  a  private 
house.  He  then  retired  to  report  his  observations  to 
the  King,  who,  upon  hearing  that  the  man  was  "a 
very  tall  and  desperate  fellow,"  gave  orders  that  the 
cellar  should  be  carefully  searched.  Fawkes  in  the 
meantime  had  hurried  to  acquaint  Percy,  and  then,  such 
was  his  determination,  returned  alone  to  the  cellar. 

About  two  in  the  morning  (it  was  now  the  5  th  of 
November),  Fawkes  opened  the  door  of  the  vault  and 
came  out,  booted  and  dressed  as  for  a  long  journey.  At 
that  instant,  before  he  could  stir  further,  he  was  seized 
and  pinioned  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  under  the  direction 
of  Sir  Thomas  Knevit.  Three  matches  were  found  in 
his  pocket,  and  a  dark  lantern  behind  the  door.  He  at 
once  avowed  his  purpose,  and  declared  that  if  he  had 
been  within  when  they  took  him  he  would  have  blown 
all  up  together.  The  search  then  began  ;  and,  on  the 
removal  of  the  fuel,  two  hogsheads  and  thirty-two  barrels 
of  gunpowder  were  discovered. 

It  was  nearly  four  o'clock  before  the  King  and 
Council  had  assembled,  when  Fawkes  was  carried  to 
Whitehall,  and  there,  in  the  Royal  bedchamber,  under- 


The  Gunpowder  Plot  Detected.  8 1 

went  examination.*  Though  bound  and  helpless,  he 
never  for  an  instant  quailed.  He  answered  every  ques- 
tion put  to  him  with  perfect  coolness  and  decision.  His 
name,  he  said,  was  John  Johnson,  his  condition  that  of 
a  servant  to  Mr  Percy.  He  declined  to  say  if  he  had 
accomplices,  but  declared  his  object  was,  when  the 
Parliament  met  that  day,  to  have  destroyed  all  there 
assembled.  Being  asked  by  the  King  how  he  could 
plot  the  death  of  his  children  and  so  many  innocent 
souls,  he  answered,  "  Dangerous  diseases  require  des- 
perate remedies."  A  Scottish  nobleman  asked  him  for 
what  end  he  had  collected  so  much  powder.  "  One  of 
my  ends,"  said  he,  "was  to  blow  Scotchmen  back  to  their 
native  place."  After  several  hours  spent  in  questioning 
him  he  was  conveyed  to  the  Tower.  His  subsequent 
fate,  and  that  of  his  accomplices,  need  not  be  detailed 
here. 

The  vault,  popularly  called  "  Guy  Fawkes's  Cellar," 
was  a  crypt-like  apartment  beneath  the  old  House  of 
Lords,  the  ancient  Parliament-chamber  at  Westminster, 
believed  to  have  been  rebuilt  by  King  Henry  II.  on 
the  ancient  foundations  of  Edward  the  Confessor's  reign. 
This  building  was  taken  down  about  the  year  1823, 
when  it  was  ascertained  that  the  vault  had  been  the 
ancient  kitchen  of  the  Old  Palace  ;  and  near  the  south 
end  the  original  buttery-hatch  was  discovered,  together 
with  an  adjoining  pantry  or  cupboard.  The  house 
through  which  the  conspirators  obtained  access  to  the 
vault  was  in  the  south-east  corner  of  Old  Palace 
Yard. 

Subsequent  to  this  complete  detection  of  the  plot, 

*  This  scene  has  been  admirably  painted  by  Mr  John  Gilbert,  and 
engraved  in  the  Illustrated  London  News  ;  and  detailed  as  above. 
VOL.  I.  F 


82  Romance  of  London. 

it  was  the  custom  to  search  and  carefully  examine  the 
several  vaults  and  passages  under  the  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment, previous  to  the  Sovereign  opening  the  Session. 
This  precautionary  inspection  was  performed  by  certain 
officers  of  Parliament,  headed  by  the  Usher  of  the 
Black  Rod,  who  went  through  the  vaults,  and  examined 
the  various  nooks  and  recesses.  The  search  took  place 
on  the  morning  of  the  day  of  the  royal  ceremonial. 

In  Spelman's  time,  the  Judges  went  to  church  in  state 
on  this  day.  Bishop  Sanderson,  in  one  of  his  sermons, 
says  :  "  God  grant  that  we  nor  ours  ever  live  to  see 
November  the  Fifth  forgotten,  or  the  solemnity  of  it 
silenced."  The  solemnity  long  out-lived  the  bishop  ; 
but  nearly  two  hundred  years  later  (in  1858),  the 
services  were  removed  from  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer. 

It  has  been  commonly  supposed  that  the  plot  was 
discovered  through  Francis  Tresham's  misgivings  and 
desire  to  warn  his  friends.  Mr  Jardine  has  investi- 
gated the  various  speculations  respecting  the  author- 
ship of  the  letter  to  Lord  Mounteagle,  and  the  curious 
doubts  as  to  whether  this  letter  was  not  a  device  to 
conceal  the  prior  revelation  of  the  plot  by  Tresham  in 
a  different  manner.  The  circumstances  under  which 
the  letter  was  received,  Tresham's  intimations  to  the 
confederates  that  the  plot  was  known,  his  anxiety  that 
his  friends  should  fly,  his  pressing  offers  of  money  to 
Catesby,  and  it  is  added  by  Roman  Catholic  writers, 
though  this  Mr  Jardine  discredits,  Tresham's  own 
death  in  prison,  are  supposed  to  point  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  plot  was  disclosed  by  some  machinery  of  which 
the  Government  were  unwilling  to  risk  the  exposure. 

At  all  events,  the  discovery  of  the  meaning  of  the 


The  Gunpowder  Plot  Detected.  83 

ambiguous  expressions  in  the  letter  to  Lord  Mount- 
eagle  was  not  due  to  the  discernment  of  the  King  ;  for 
Lord  Salisbury,  in  a  narrative  of  the  detection  of  the 
plot,  to  be  found  in  the  State  Paper  Office,  declares 
that  this  interpretation  of  the  letter  had  occurred  to  him- 
self and  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  had  been  communi- 
cated by  them  to  several  Lords  of  the  Council  before 
the  subject  had  been  mentioned  to  the  King.  To  the 
suggestions  of  the  same  discerning  personages  it  was  also 
owing  that  the  plot,  though  discovered,  was  allowed  for 
a  week  to  run  its  course,  and  that  no  search  was  under- 
taken at  the  cellar  till  the  4th  of  November,  the  day 
before  the  meeting  of  Parliament.  Then  Guy  Fawkes 
was  seized,  and  the  plot,  after  a  flight  and  feeble  insur- 
rection, came  to  a  close. 

John  Varley,  the  painter,  well  known  to  have  been 
attached  to  astrology,  used  to  relate  a  tradition,  that 
the  Gunpowder  Plot  was  discovered  by  Dr  John  Dee, 
with  his  Magic  Mirror  ;  and  he  urged  the  difficulty,  if 
not  impossibility,  of  interpreting  Lord  Mounteagle's 
letter  without  some  other  clue  or  information  than 
hitherto  gained.  Now,  in  a  Common  Prayer  Book, 
printed  by  Baskett,  in  1737,  is  an  engraving  of  the 
following  scene.  In  the  centre  is  a  circular  mirror,  on  a 
stand  in  which  is  the  reflection  of  the  Houses  of  Par- 
liament by  night,  and  a  person  entering  carrying  a  dark 
lantern.  Next,  on  the  left  side  are  two  men  in  the 
costume  of  James's  time,  looking  into  the  mirror  :  one, 
evidently  the  King ;  the  other,  from  his  secular  habit, 
not  the  Doctor  (Dee),  but  probably  Sir  Kenelm  Digby. 
On  the  right  side,  at  the  top,  is  the  eye  of  Providence 
darting  a  ray  on  the  mirror  ;  and  below  are  some  legs 
and  hoofs,  as  if  evil  spirits  were  flying  out  of  the  pic- 


84  Romance  of  London. 

ture.  The  plate  is  inserted  before  the  service  for  the  5  th 
of  November,  and  would  seem  to  represent  the  method 
by  which,  under  Providence  (as  is  evidenced  by  the  eye), 
the  discovery  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot  was,  at  that  time, 
seriously  believed  to  have  been  effected.  The  tradition 
must  have  been  generally  and  seriously  believed,  or  it 
never  could  have  found  its  way  into  a  Prayer  Book 
printed  by  the  King's  Printer. — (A.  A.,  Notes  and 
Queries,  2nd  S.  No.  201.) 

It  is  true  that  the  fame  of  Dee's  Magic  Mirror  Divi- 
nation was  at  its  zenith  about  the  time  of  the  Gun- 
powder Plot,  and  this  may  have  led  to  the  mirror  being 
adopted  as  a  popular  emblem  of  discovery  ;  or  it  may 
be  a  piece  of  artistic  design  rather  than  evidence  of  its 
actual  employment  in  the  discovery. 

Two  Tippling  Kings. 

In  1608,  when  Christian  IV.  of  Denmark,  brother  of 
the  Queen  of  James  I.,  came  into  England  to  visit  him, 
both  the  kings  got  drunk  together,  to  celebrate  the 
meeting.  Sir  John  Harrington,  the  wit,  has  left  a  most 
amusing  account  of  this  Court  revel  and  carousal.  He 
tells  us  that  "  the  sports  began  each  day  in  such  manner 
and  such  sorte,  as  well  nigh  persuaded  me  of  Mahomet's 
paradise.  We  had  women,  and  indeed  wine  too,  of  such 
plenty,  as  would  have  astonished  each  beholder.  Our 
feasts  were  magnificent,  and  the  two  royal  guests  did 
most  lovingly  embrace  each  other  at  table.  I  think  the 
Dane  had  strangely  wrought  on  our  good  English 
nobles  ;  for  those  whom  I  could  never  get  to  taste  good 
liquor,  now  follow  the  fashion,  and  wallow  in  beastly 
delights.     The  ladies  abandon  their  sobriety,  and  are 


Tzvo  Tippling  Kings,  S5 

seen  to  roll  about  in  intoxication.  In  good  sooth,  the 
Parliament  did  kindly  to  provide  his  Majestie  so  season- 
ably with  money,  for  there  have  been  no  lack  of  good 
livinge,  shews,  sights,  and  banquetings  from  morn  to 
eve. 

"  One  da}-  a  great  feast  was  held,  and  after  dinner 
the    representation    of   Solomon,    his    temple,    and   the 
coming  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba  was  made,  or  (as  I  may 
better  say)  was  meant  to  have  been  made,  before  their 
Majesties,    by   device    of  the    Earl    of    Salisbury    and 
others.     But,  alas !  as  all  earthly  things  do  fail  to  poor 
mortals   in  enjoyment,   so  did   prove  our   presentment 
thereof.     The  lady  who   did  play  the  Queen's  part  did 
carry  most  precious  gifts  to  both  their  Majesties  ;  but 
forgetting    the  steppes  arising  to  the    canopy,    overset 
her  caskets  into  his  Danish  Majesty's  lap,  and  fell  at 
his    feet,    though    I    think   it    was    rather    in    his   face. 
Much  was  the  hurry  and  confusion  ;  cloths  and  napkins 
were  at   hand   to  make  all  clean.      His   Majestie  then 
got  up,  and   would  dance  with  the   Queen  of  Sheba  ; 
but  he  fell  down  and  humbled  himself  before  her,  and' 
was  carried  to  an  inner  chamber,  and  laid  on  a  bed  of 
state,  which  was  not  a  little  defiled  with  the  presents 
of  the  Queen,  which  had  been  bestowed  on  his  gar- 
ments ;  such    as   wine,    cream,   jelly,   beverage,    cakes, 
spices,    and    other   good    matters.     The    entertainment 
and  show  went   forward,   and    most  of  the   presenters 
went  backward  or  fell  down  ;  wine  did  so  occupy  their 
upper  chambers.     Now  did  appear,  in  rich  dress,  Hope, 
Faith,   and    Charity.     Hope    did    essay  to    speak,    but 
wine  rendered  her  endeavours  so  feeble  that  she  with- 
drew, and  hoped  the  King  would  excuse  her  brevity. 
Faith  was  then  all  alone,  for  I  am  certain  she  was  not 


S6  Romance  of  London. 

joyned  to  good  works,  and  left  the  court  in  a  stagger- 
ing condition.  Charity  came  to  the  King's  feet,  and 
seemed  to  cover  the  multitude  of  sins  her  sisters  had 
committed ;  in  some  sorte  she  made  obeyance,  and 
brought  giftes,  but  said  she  would  return  home  again, 
as  there  was  no  gift  which  heaven  had  not  already 
given  his  Majesty.  She  then  returned  to  Hope  and 
Faith,  who  were  both  sick  ....  in  the  lower 
hall.  Next  came  Victory,  in  bright  armour,  and  pre- 
sented a  rich  sword  to  the  king,  who  did  not  accept  it, 
but  put  it  by  with  his  hand  ;  and  by  a  strange  medley 
of  versification,  did  endeavour  to  make  suit  to  the 
King.  But  Victory  did  not  triumph  long  ;  for,  after 
much  lamentable  utterance,  she  was  led  away  like  a 
silly  captive,  and  laid  to  sleep  in  the  outer  steps  of  the 
ante-chamber.  Now  did  Peace  make  entry,  and  strive 
to  get  foremoste  to  the  King ;  but  I  grieve  to  tell  how 
great  wrath  she  did  discover  unto  those  of  her  attend- 
ants ;  and  much  contrary  to  her  semblance,  made  rudely 
war  with  her  olive  branch,  and  laid  on  the  pates  of  those 
who  did  oppose  her  coming."  * 

Funeral  of  James  I. 

This  was  a  most  magnificent  and  costly  pageant  In 
the  Calendar  of  State  Papers,  edited  by  Mr  Bruce,  and 
still  more,  of  course,  in  the  documents  of  which  it  is  the 
abstract,  will  be  found  what  a  petitioning  there  was  on 
the  part  of  sundry  very  interested,  if  not  afflicted,  per- 
sonages, to  be  admitted  "  poor  mourners "  in  the 
procession  from  Denmark  (Somerset)   House  to  West- 

*  Nugce  Antiques,  ed.  1804,  vol.  1.,  quoted  in  a  note  to  Peyton's  "Cata- 
strophe of  the  Stuarts,"  in  the  Secret  History  oj  the  Court  of  James  I.,  vol  ii. 


Funeral  of  James  I.  87 

minster.  These  "  poor  mourners "  got  their  sable 
cloaks  for  their  attendance  and  officious  affliction. 
While  these  persons  obtained  cloaks,  parishes  were 
supplied  with  black  cloth,  and  did  not  like  to  be  over- 
looked in  the  distribution.  Thus,  we  meet  with  the 
minister  and  churchwardens  of  All  Hallows,  Barking-, 
petitioning  the  Commissioners  of  the  royal  funeral 
"  that  some  part  of  the  cloth  for  mourning  for  the  late 
King,  distributed  among  the  poor  of  the  divers  parishes 
in  London,  may  be  given  to  their  parish,  which  is  one 
of  the  poorest  within  the  walls  of  the  city." 

It  is  further  singular  to  discover  in  Mr  Bruce's 
volume  that  it  was  not  the  poor  alone  who  thought  to 
draw  profit  from  the  King's  funeral.  His  Majesty's 
gunners  are  there  spoken  of  as  praying  that  "  as  they 
had  allowance  of  reds  at  the  coronation  of  their  de- 
ceased master,  they  may  now,  at  his  funeral,  have 
allowance  of  blacks  !  "  And  observe  how  the  report  of 
this  artillery  petition  struck  on  the  tympanum  of 
"  Henry  Russell,  sworn  drummer  extraordinary  1  " 
requiring  "  that  he  may  have  black  cloth,  as  the  rest  of 
his  fellows  shall  have."  After  the  drummer  come  "  the 
Keepers  of  His  Majesty's  cormorants,"  who  "pray  that 
they  may  have  mourning  zveeds,"  not  for  the  birds,  but 
for  themselves.  They  had  at  least  as  good  right  to  it 
as  the  household  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  who 
might  have  put  decent  black  on  his  own  lacqueys  at  his 
own  cost.  But  the  people  had  to  pay  for  all.  Mr  Bruce 
registers  a  letter  from  John  Chamberlain  to  Sir  Dudley 
Carleton,  the  contents  of  which  inform  us  that  "  the 
great  funeral  took  place  on  the  7th  of  May  1625,  and 
was  the  greatest  ever  known  in  England.  Blacks  were 
given  to  9000  persons.      Inigo  Jones  did  his  part  in 


S8  Romance  of  London. 

fashioning  the  hearse.  The  King  was  chief  mourner. 
The  Lord  Keeper's  sermon  was  two  hours," — which 
must  have  been  an  intolerable  bore,  for  Williams  was  no 
orator,  and  his  sermon  was  a  contrast  between  the 
Solomon  of  old  and  the  Solomon  who  had  just  died, 
not  of  course  to  the  disparagement  of  the  defunct 
James  ;  and,  finally,  we  have  the  sum  total  of  expenses, 
including  fifty  pounds  fee  to  Surgeon  Walker  for 
embalming  the  body,  set  down  as  "  Charge  about 
;£ 50,000  !  "  In  July,  the  nation  felt  the  extravagance 
committed  in  conveying  James  to  the  God's  Acre  at 
Westminster,  in  May.  In  recording  Sir  John  Coke's 
report  of  a  message  of  Charles  to  the  Commons,  Mr 
Bruce  refers  to  a  portion  where  the  House  was  told 
that  "  the  ordinary  revenue  is  clogged  with  debts  and 
exhausted  with  the  late  King's  funeral  and  other  ex- 
penses of  necessity  and  honour."  Thus  ended  that 
smart  and  fatal  attack  of  ague,  from  all  apprehension  of 
which,  the  courtiers  at  Theobald's  sought  to  entice  the 
shaking  monarch  by  singing  the  old  distich  : — 

Ague  in  the  spring 
Is  physic  for  a  King. 

As  for  the  exhaustion  of  the  treasury,  Charles  did 
not  think  much  of  it  when  his  own  coronation  was  in 
question.  He  did  not,  however,  forget  the  two  hours' 
funeral  sermon  on  the  Solomons,  by  Williams,  and  the 
testy  Welshman  was  accordingly  not  only  forbidden  to 
preach  another  discourse  at  the  crowning,  but  compelled 
to  appoint  thereto  the  little  man  he  most  intensely 
hated — Laud.  —  From  the  Athencsum  review  of  Mr 
Brace's  work. 


Historical  Coincidences.  89 


Historical  Coincidences. 

By  a  signal  providence  (says  Wheatly),  the  bloody 
rebels  chose  that  day  for  murdering  their  King,  on 
which  the  history  of  Our  Saviour's  sufferings  (Matt. 
xxvii.)  was  appointed  to  be  read  as  a  Lesson.  The 
blessed  martyr  had  forgot  that  it  came  in  the  ordinary 
course ;  and  therefore,  when  Bishop  Juxon  (who  read 
the  morning  office  immediately  before  his  martyrdom) 
named  this  chapter,  the  good  Prince  asked  him  if  he 
had  singled  it  out  as  fit  for  the  occasion  ;  and  when  he 
was  informed  it  was  the  Lesson  for  the  Day,  could  not 
without  a  sensible  complacency  and  joy  admire  how 
suitably  it  concurred  with  his  circumstances. 

Macaulay,  in  his  History  of  England,  speaking  of  the 
Seven  Prelates  committed  to  the  Tower  by  James  II., 
says :  "  On  the  evening  of  Black-Friday,  as  it  was 
called,  on  which  they  were  committed,  they  reached 
their  prison  just  at  the  hour  of  divine  service.  They 
instantly  hastened  to  the  chapel.  It  chanced  that  in 
the  second  lesson  are  these  words :  '  In  all  things  ap- 
proving ourselves  as  the  ministers  of  God,  in  much 
patience,  in  afflictions,  in  distresses,  in  stripes,  in  impri- 
sonments.' All  zealous  churchmen  were  delighted  with 
this  coincidence,  and  remembered  how  much  comfort  a 
similar  coincidence  had  given  nearly  40  years  before,  to 
Charles  I.,  at  the  time  of  his  death." 

A  strange  story  of  the  ill-fated  bust  of  Charles  I. 
carved  by  Bernini,  is  thus  told  :  Vandyke  having  drawn 
the  King  in  three  different  faces, — a  profile,  three- 
quarters,  and  a  full  face, — the  picture  was  sent  to  Rome 
for  Bernini  to  make  a  bust  from  it.      He  was  unaccount- 


90  Romance  of  London. 

ably  dilatory  in  the  work  ;  and  upon  this  being  com- 
plained of,  he  said  that  he  had  set  about  it  several 
times,  but  there  was  something  so  unfortunate- in  the 
features  of  .the  face  that  he  was  shocked  every  time  that 
he  examined  it,  and  forced  to  leave  off  the  work ;  and, 
if  there  was  any  stress  to  be  laid  on  physiognomy,  he 
was  sure  the  person  whom  the  picture  represented  was- 
destined  to  a  violent  end.  The  bust  was  at  last  finished, 
and  sent  to  England.  As  soon  as  the  ship  that  brought 
it  arrived  in  the  river,  the  King,  who  was  very  impatient 
to  see  the  bust,  ordered  it  to  be  carried  immediately  to 
Chelsea.  It  was  conveyed  thither,  and  placed  upon  a 
table  in  the  garden,  whither  the  King  went  with  a  train 
of  nobility  to  inspect  the  bust.  As  they  were  viewing- 
it,  a  hawk  flew  over  their  heads  with  a  partridge  in  his 
claws  which  he  had  wounded  to  death.  Some  of  the 
partridge's  blood  fell  upon  the  neck  of  the  bust,  where 
it  remained  without  being  wiped  off.  This  bust  was 
placed  over  the  door  of  the  King's  closet  at  Whitehall, 
and  continued  there  till  the  palace  was  destroyed  by 
fire.  —  (Pamphlet  on  the  Character  of  Charles  I.,  by 
Zachary  Grey,  LL.D.) 

Howell,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Edward  Spencer,  Feb.  20, 
1647-8,  refers  to  the  proximate  execution  of  Charles  I. 
as  follows :  "  Surely  the  witch  of  Endor  is  no  fable  ; 
the  burning  Joan  of  Arc,  at  Rouen,  and  the  Marchio- 
ness d'Anere,  of  late  years,  in  Paris,  are  no  fables :  the 
execution  of  Nostradamus  for  a  kind  of  witch,  some 
fourscore  years  since,  who,  among  other  things,  foretold 
that  the  Senate  of  London  will  kill  their  King" 


Queen  Henrietta  Maria  doing  Penance  at  Tyburn.    91 

Queen  Henrietta  Maria  doing  Penance 

at  Tyburn. 

In  '  the  Crowle  Pennant,  in  the  British  Museum,  is 
a  German  print  of  considerable  rarity,,  representing 
Henrietta  Maria,  Queen  of  Charles  I.,  doing  penance 
beneath  the  triangular  gallows  at  Tyburn.  At  -a  short 
distance  is  the  confessor's  carriage,  drawn  by  six 
horses  ;  the  Queen  is  kneeling  in  prayer  beneath  the 
gibbet  ;  in  the  coach  is  seated  "the  Luciferian  Con- 
fessour,"  and  a  page,  bearing  a  lighted  torch,  stands  to 
the  left  of  the  carriage  door.  The  authenticity  of  this 
print  has  been  impeached :  but  we  have  a  distinct 
record  of  the  strange  scene  which  the  engraver  has 
here  illustrated. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  by  the  marriage  articles 
of  Charles  I.  and  Henrietta  Maria,  the  latter  was  per- 
mitted to  have  a  large  establishment  of  Roman  Catholic 
priests,  from  which  it  was  inferred  that  the  marriage 
was  assented  to  on  the  part  of  the  Papal  Hierarchy, 
with  the  secret  intention  of  rendering  it  the  stepping- 
stone  to  the  re-establishment  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
religion  in  this  country.  The  glaring  imprudence  with 
which  the  Queen's  household  endeavoured  to  effect  their 
purpose,  and  the  very  indirect  subjugation  in  which 
they  enthralled  their  royal  mistress,  however,  occasioned 
their  absolute  dismissal  from  the  kingdom,  by  Charles 
himself,  within  little  more  than  a  twelvemonth  after 
their  arrival  here. 

Henrietta  Maria  is  described  in  letters  of  her  time  as 
a  beautiful  woman,  in  stature  reaching  to  the  King's 
shoulders :     she    was    "  nimble    and    quiet,  black-eyed, 


92  Romance  of  London. 

brown  haired,  and  in  a  word  a  brave  lady."  Very 
soon  after  her  arrival  in  England,  her  enthralment  by 
the  priesthood  was  witnessed  by  the  King :  being  at 
dinner,  and  being  carved  pheasant  and  venison  by  His 
Majesty,  the  Queen  ate  heartily  of  both,  notwithstand- 
ing her  confessor,  who  stood  by  her,  had  forewarned 
her  that  it  was  the  eve  of  St  John  the  Baptist,  and  was 
to  be  fasted. 

Henrietta's  clergy  were  the  most  superstitious,  tur- 
bulent, and  Jesuitical  priests  that  could  be  found  in 
all  France.  Among  their  "  insolencies  towards  the 
Queene,"  it  is  recorded  that  Her  Majesty  was  once 
sentenced  by  her  confessor  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to 
Tyburn,  and  there  to  do  homage  to  the  saintship  of 
some  recently-arrived  Roman  Catholics.  "  No  longer 
agoe  than  upon  St  James,  his  day  last,  those  hypo- 
critical dogges  made  the  pore  Queene  to  walk  afoot 
(some  sidd  barefoot)  from  her  house  at  St  James's,  to 
the  gallowes  at  Tyborne,  thereby  to  honour  the  saint 
of  the  day,  in  visiting  that  holy  place,  where  so  many 
martyrs  (forsooth!)  had  shed  their  blood  in  defence  of 
the  Catholic  cause.  Had  they  not  also  been  made  to 
dabble  in  the  dirt  in  a  fowl  morning,  fro'  Somersett 
House  to  St  James's,  her  Luciferian  Confessour  riding 
allong  by  her  in  his  coach !  Yea,  they  made  her  to  go 
barefoot,  to  spin,  to  eat  her  meat  out  of  tryne  (treen  or 
Avooden)  dishes,  to  wait  at  table,  and  serve  her  servants, 
with  many  other  ridiculous  and  absurd  penances.  It  is 
hoped,  after  they  are  gone,  the  Queene  will,  by  degrees, 
finde  the  sweetness  of  liberty  in  being  exempt  from 
those  beggarly  rudiments  of  Popish  penance." — (Ellis's 
Original  Letters,  First  Series,  vol.  iii.  pp.  241-3.  Harl. 
MSS.  383.) 


Queen  Henrietta  Maria  doing  Penance  at  Tyburn.     93 

It  appears  that  the  French  -were  first  turned  out 
of  St  James's  and  sent  to  Somerset  House  :  a  letter 
states  that  they  were  immediately  ordered  "  to  depart 
thence  (St  James's)  to  Somerset  House,  although  the 
women  howled  and  lamented  as  if  they  had  been  going 
to  execution,  but  all  in  vaine,  for  the  Yeoman  of  the 
Guard,  by  that  Lord's  (Conway)  appointment,  thrust 
them  and  all  their  country  folkes  out  of  the  Queen's 
lodging,  and  locked  the  dores  after  them.  It  is  said, 
also,  the  Queen,  when  she  understood  the  design,  grewe 
very  impatient,  and  brake  the  glass  windows  with  her 
fiste :  but  since,  I  hear,  her  rage  is  appeased,  and  the 
King  and  shee,  since  they  went  together  to  Nonsuche, 
have  been  very  jocund  together." 

Then,  we  have  an  amusing  account  of  the  pecula- 
tions committed  by  these  "French  freebooters"  on  the 
Queen's  "  apparrell  and  linen,"  when  they  left  her  little 
more  than  one  gown  to  her  back.  In  about  a  month, 
the  King,  probably  from  some  fresh  machination  of  the 
discarded  train,  thus  issued  his  commands  to  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham  : — 

"  Steenie, — I  have  received  your  letter  by  Die  Greame. 
This  is  my  Answer :  I  command  you  to  send  all  the 
French  away  to-morrow  out  of  the  Towne.  If  you  can, 
by  fair  means  (but  stike  not  longe  in  disputing),  other- 
ways  force  them  away,  dryving  them  away  lyke  so 
maine  wyld  beastes  untill  ye  have  shipped  them,  and  so 
the  Devill  go  with  them.  Lett  me  heare  no  answer  but 
of  the  performance  of  my  command.  So  I  rest, 
"  Your  faithful,  constant,  loving  friend, 

"  Charles  R. 

"Oaking,  the  "jth  of  August  1626." 

Yet,  the  crew  would  not  go  without  an  order  from 


94  Romance  of  London. 

the  King,  which  reply  being  sent  post,  next  morning 
His  Majesty  despatched  to  London  the  Captain  of  the 
Guard,  with  yeomen  and  messengers,  heralds  and  trum- 
peters, first  to  proclaim  the  King's  pleasure  at  Somerset 
House  Gate  ;  which,  if  not  speedily  obeyed,  the  yeomen 
were  to  turn  all  the  French  out  of  Somerset  House  by 
head  and  shoulders,  and  shut  the  gate  after  them  ;  but 
they  went  the  next  tide. 


"  Old  Parr r 

THOMAS  PARR, familiarly  known  as  "Old  Parr," accord- 
ing to  the  inscription  upon  his  tomb  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  was  born  in  Salop,  in   1483,  but  the  day  of  his 
birth  is  not  given  ;  it  is  added  :  "  He  lived  in  the  reign 
of  ten  princes,  Edward  IV.,  Edward  V.,  Richard   III., 
Henry  VII.,  Henry  VIII.,  Edward  VI.,  Mary,  Eliza- 
beth,  James  I.,   and   Charles   I.,  aged   152   years;  and 
was  buried  here  Nov.    15,    1635."      In    1635,   about  a 
month  before  Parr's  death,  Taylor,  the  Water-poet,  pub- 
lished a  pamphlet,  entitled  :    "  The   Olde,  Olde,  very 
Olde  Man  ;  or,  The  Age  and   Long  Life  of  Thomas 
Parr,  the  Sonne  of  John    Parr  of  Winnington,  in  the 
Parish  of  Alderbury,  in  the  County  of  Shropshire,  who 
was  born  in  the  reign  of  King  Edward  IV.,  and  is  now 
living  in  the  Strand,  being  aged    152  years  and  odd 
months.     His  manner  of  Life  and  Conversation  in  so 
long  a  Pilgrimage  ;  his  Marriages,  and  his  bringing  up 
to  London  about  the  end   of  September  last,    1635." 
According  to  Taylor,  in  the  lifetime   of  his  first  wife, 
Parr  having  been   detected    in    an    amour  with  "  faire 
Catherine  Milton,"  at  the  age  of  105  : 


"  Old  Parr."  95 

'Twas  thought  meet, 
He  should  be  purg'd,  by  standing  in  a  sheet ; 
Which  aged  (he)  one  hundred  and  five  yeare 
In  Alderbury  parish  church  did  weare. 

The  Earl  of  Arundel,  being  in  Shropshire  visiting  his 
manors,  heard  of  this  "olde  man,"  and  was  pleased  to 
see  him  ;  his  lordship  ordered  a  litter  and  two  horses 
for  his  easy  conveyance,  and  that  a  daughter-in-law 
should  attend  him  ;  he  was  likewise  accompanied  by 
a  kind  of  Merry-Andrew,  known  as  John  the  Foole. 
These  were  all  brought  by  easy  journies  to  London. 
At  Coventry,  as  he  passed,  folks  were  very  curious, 
coming  in  such  crowds  that  Parr  was  well  nigh  stifled. 
The  Earl  had  Parr  brought  to  Arundel  House,  to  be 
shown  to  Charles  I.  He  was  at  first  lodged  at  No.  405 
Strand,  the  Queen's  Head  public-house  (rebuilt  in  the 
present  reign).  This  information  Mr  J.  T.  Smith  re- 
ceived, in  1 8 14,  from  a  person,  then  aged  90,  to  whom 
the  house  was  pointed  out  by  his  grandfather,  then  88. 

Parr  became  domesticated  in  the  Earl  of  Arundel's 
house,  but  his  mode  of  living  was  changed  ;  he  fed  high, 
drank  wine,  and  died  Nov.  14,  1635,  at  the  age  of  152 
years  9  months.  His  body,  by  the  King's  command, 
was  dissected  by  Harvey,  who  attributed  Parr's  death 
to  peripneumony,  brought  on  by  the  impurity  of  the 
London  atmosphere,  and  sudden  change  in  diet. 

Taylor  thus  describes  Parr  in  the  last  stage  of  his 
existence  : — 

His  limbs  their  strength  have  left, 
His  teeth  all  gone  (but  one),  his  sight  bereft, 
His  sinews  shrunk,  his  blood  most  chill  and  cold, 
Small  solace,  imperfections  manifold  : 
Yet  still  his  spirits  possesse  his  mortal  trunk, 
Nor  are  his  senses  in  his  ruines  shrunk  ; 


g6  Romance  of  London. 

But  that  his  hearing's  quicke,  his  stomach  good, 
Hee  '11  feed  well,  sleep  well,  well  digest  his  food. 
Hee  will  speak  heartily,  laugh  and  be  merry  ; 
Drink  ale,  and  now  and  then  a  cup  of  sherry  ; 
Loves  company,  and  understanding  talke, 
And  (on  both  sides  held  up)  will  sometimes  walke. 
And,  though  old  age  his  face  with  wrinkles  fill, 
Hee  hath  been  handsome,  and  is  comely  still ; 
Well  fac'd  ;  and  though  his  beard  not  oft  corrected, 
Yet  neat  it  grows,  not  like  a  beard  neglected. 
From  head  to  heel,  his  body  hath  all  over 
A  quick-set,  thick-set,  natural  hairy  cover. 

Taylor  gives  some  account  of  Parr's  domestic  life  : — ■ 

A  tedious  time  a  batchelour  he  tarried, 
Full  eightie  years  of  age  before  he  married. 
With  this  wife  he  liv'd  years  thrice  ten  and  two, 
And  then  she  died  (as  all  good  wives  will  doe). 
Shee  dead,  he  ten  years  did  a  widower  stay, 
Then  once  more  ventur'd  in  the  wedlock  way, 
And  in  affection  to  his  first  wife,  Jane, 
He  tooke  another  of  that  name  againe. 

Of  Parr's  issue,  the  Water-poet  writes  in  plain  prose  : 
■■  He  hath  had  two  children  by  his  first  wife,  a  son  and 
a  daughter.  When  he  was  over  a  hundred  years  oid, 
was  sworn  to  him  an  illegitimate  child,  for  which  his 
incontinence,  he  did  penance  by  standing  in  a  sheet, 
in  the  parish  church  of  Alberbury."  Granger  tells  the 
story  differently.  He  writes  thus  : — At  120  he  married 
Catherine  Milton,  his  second  wife,  by  whom  he  had 
a  child  :  even  after  that  he  was  employed  in  threshing 
and  other  husbandry  work.  And  when  about  152  years 
of  age,  he  was  brought  to  London,  by  Thomas,  Earl  of 
Arundel,  and  carried  to  court.  The  King,  Charles  I., 
said  to  him,  "  You  have  lived  longer  than  other  men, 
what  have  you  done  more  than  other  men  ?  "  He  replied, 
"  I  did  penance  when  I  was  a  hundred  years  old:' 


"Old  Parr."  97 

Taylor's  pamphlet,  entitled  "  The  Okie,  Okie,  very 
Olde  Man,"  was  published  while  the  patriarch  was 
residing  in  London  ;  and  the  statements  in  which  work- 
have  rarely  been  controverted. 

We  are  assured  that  Parr  laboured  hard  the  greater 
part  of  his  long  life,  and  that  his  food  was  in  general 
very  simple  and  even  coarse  : — 

Good  wholesome  labour  was  his  exercise, 

Down  with  the  Iamb,  he  with  the  lark  would  rise, 

The  cock  his  night-clock,  and  till  day  was  done, 

His  watch  and  chief  sun-dial  was  the  sun. 

lie  thought  green  cheese  most  wholesome  with  an  onion, 

He  ate  coarse  meslin-bread,  drank  '  milk  or 

Buttermilk,'  or  for  a  treat,  '  cyder  or  perry.' 

His  physic  was  '  nice  treacle '  or  '  Mithridate. 

He  entertained  no  gout,  no  ache  he  felt, 

The  air  was  good  and  temperate  where  he  dwelt, 

"While  mavisses  and  sweet-tongued  nightingales 

Did  chant  him  roundelays  and  madrigals, 

Thus,  living  within  bounds  of  Nature's  laws, 

Of  his  long  lasting  life  may  be  some  cause. 

Of  Parr's  bodily  appearance  the  poet  assures  us — 

From  head  to  heel  the  body  hath  all  over, 
A  quick-set,  thick-set,  nat'rall  hairy  coyer. 

Although  we  have  the  above  evidence  of  Parr's  ex- 
treme age,  it  is  not  documentary  ;  and  the  birth  dates 
back  to  a  period  before  parish  registers  were  instituted 
by  Cromwell.  Still,  the  fact  of  Henry  Jenkins's  age  is 
not  so  well  authenticated  as  Parr's. 

It  may  not  be  generally  known  that  his  grandson, 
Robert  Parr,  born  at  Kinver,  1633,  died  1757,  having 
lived  to  the  age  of  124. 

There  is  a  portrait  of  Parr,  stated  to  be  by  Rubens  : 
and  among  the  pictures  in  the  Ashmolean  Museum  at 
Oxford,  we  remember  to  have  seen  a  portrait  of  Parr 

vol.  1.  <; 


98  Romance  of  L ondon. 

two-thirds  length,  reasonably  presumed  to  have  been 
painted  from  the  life,  being  in  the  manner  of  the  period  : 
it  has  not  been  engraved. 

In  1 8 14,  old  Parr's  cottage  at  Alderbury  was  stand- 
ing :  it  had  undergone  very  little  alteration  since  the 
period  when  Parr  himself  occupied  it. 

George  and  Blue  Boar  Inn. — The 
Intercepted  Letter. 

The  long-known  George  and  Blue  Boar  Inn,  Holborn, 
which  was  taken  down  in  1864,  for  the  site  of  the  Inns 
of  Court  Hotel,  is  associated  with  a  great  event  in  our 
national  history.  Here  was  intercepted  the  letter  of 
Charles  I.,  by  which  Ireton  discovered  it  to  be  the 
King's  intention  to  destroy  him  and  Cromwell,  which 
discovery  brought  about  Charles's  execution.  In  the 
Earl  of  Orrery's  Letters  we  read  :  "  While  Cromwell  was 
meditating  how  he  could  best  '  come  in '  with  Charles, 
one  of  his  spies — of  the  King's  bedchamber — informed 
him  that  his  final  doom  was  decreed,  and  that  what  it 
was  might  be  found  out  by  intercepting  a  letter  sent 
from  the  King  to  the  Queen,  wherein  he  declared  what 
he  would  do.  The  letter,  he  said,  was  sewed  up  in  the 
skirt  of  a  saddle,  and  the  bearer  of  it  would  come  with 
the  saddle  upon  his  head  that  night  to  the  Blue  Boar 
Inn,  in  Holborn  ;  for  there  he  was  to  take  horse  and  go 
to  Dover  with  it.  This  messenger  knew  nothing  of  the 
letter  in  the  saddle  ;  but  some  persons  at  Dover  did. 
Cromwell  and  Ireton,  disguised  as  troopers,  taking  with 
them  a  trusty  fellow,  went  to  the  Inn  in  Holborn  ;  and 
this  man  watched  at  the  wicket,  and  the  troopers  con- 
tinued drinking  beer  till  about  ten  o'clock,  when  the 


Lord  Sanquhar s  Revenge.  99 

sentinel  at  the  gate  gave  notice  that  the  man  with  the 
saddle  was  come  in.  Up  they  got,  and,  as  the  man 
was  leading  out  his  horse  saddled,  they,  with  drawn 
swords,  declared  they  were  to  search  all  who  went  in 
and  out  there ;  but,  as  he  looked  like  an  honest 
man,  they  would  only  search  his  saddle.  Upon  this 
they  ungirt  the  saddle,  and  carried  it  into  the  stall 
where  they  had  been  drinking,  and  left  the  horseman 
with  the  sentinel ;  then,  ripping  up  one  of  the  skirts  of 
the  saddle,  they  found  the  letter,  and  gave  back  the 
saddle  to  the  man,  who,  not  knowing  what  he  had 
done,  went  away  to  Dover.  They  then  opened  the 
letter,  in  which  the  King  told  the  Queen  that  he 
thought  he  should  close  with  the  Scots.  Cromwell 
and  Ireton  then  took  horse  and  went  to  Windsor ;  and, 
finding  they  were  not  likely  to  have  any  tolerable 
terms  with  the  King,  they  immediately  from  that  time 
forward  resolved  his  rum." — The  Earl  of  Orrery's 
State  Letters. 

Lord  Sanquhar  s  Revenge :  a  Story  of 
IVhitefriars. 

The  ancient  precinct  of  Whitefriars  appears  to  have 
been  noted  as  the  abode  of  fencing-masters,  professors 
of  languages,  music,  and  other  accomplishments.  Here, 
in  the  reign  of  James  I.,  Turner,  the  fencing-master, 
kept  his  school,  at  which  Lord  Sanquhar,  a  Scotch 
nobleman,  one  day,  when  playing  with  Turner  at  foils, 
in  his  excitement  to  put  down  a  master  of  the  art,  was 
pressed  by  him  so  hard,  that  his  Lordship  received  a 
thrust  which  put  out  one  of  his  eyes.  "This  mischief," 
says  the  narrator,  "was  much  regretted  by  Turner;  and 


I  oo  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

the  Baron,  being  conscious  to  himself  that  he  meant  his 
adversary  no  good,  took  the  accident  with  as  much 
patience  as  men  that  lose  one  eye  by  their  own  default 
use  to  do  for  the  preservation  of  the  other."  "  Some 
time  after,"  continues  this  writer,  "  being  in  the  court 
of  the  great  Henry  of  France,  and  the  King  (courteous 
to  strangers),  entertaining  discourse  with  him,  asked 
him  '  How  he  lost  his  eye  ? '  he  (cloathing  his  answer 
in  a  better  shrowd  than  a  plain  fencer's)  told  him,  '  It 
was  done  with  a  sword.'  The  King  replies,  '  Doth 
the  man  live?'  and  that  question  gave  an  end  to  the 
discourse.  The  Baron,  however,  bore  the  feeling  of 
revenge  in  his  breast  some  years  after,  till  he  came  into 
England,  when  he  resolved  to  take  vengeance  upon 
the  unfortunate  fencing-master.  For  this  purpose  he 
hired  two  of  his  countrymen,  Gray  and  Carliel ;  but 
Gray's  mind  misgave  him,  and  Carliel  got  another 
accomplice  named  Irweng.  These  two,  about  seven 
o'clock  on  a  fine  evening  in  May,  repaired  to  the 
Friars,  and  there  saw  Turner  drinking  with  a  friend  at 
a  tavern  door:  they  saluted  one  another,  and  Turner 
and  his  friend  asked  Carliel  and  Irweng  to  drink,  but 
they  turning  about  cocked  a  pistol,  came  back  imme- 
diately, and  Carliel,  drawing  it  from  under  his  coat, 
discharged  it  upon  Turner,  and  gave  him  a  mortal 
wound  near  the  left  pap ;  so  that  Turner,  after  having 
said  these  words,  '  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me !  I  am 
killed,'  immediately  fell  down.  Carliel  and  Irweng  fled  : 
Carliel  to  the  town  ;  Irweng  towards  the  river,  but  mis- 
taking his  way,  and  entering  into  a  court  where  they 
sold  wood,  which  was  no  thoroughfare,  he  was  taken. 
Carliel  likewise  fled,  and  so  did  also  the  Baron  of  San- 
quhar,   The  ordinary  officers  of  justice  did  their  utmost, 


Martyrdom  of  Kitig  Charles  I.  ioi 

but  could  not  take  them  ;  for,  in  fact,  as  appeared  after- 
wards, Carliel  fled  into  Scotland,  and  Gray  towards  the 
sea,  thinking  to  go  to  Sweden,  and  Sanquhar  hid  himself 
in  England." 

James  having  made  the  English  jealous  by  the  favour 
he  had  shown  to  the  Scotch,  thought  himself  bound  to 
issue  a  promise  of  reward  for  the  arrest  of  Sanquhar 
and  the  assassins.  It  was  successful ;  and  all  three  were 
hung — Carliel  and  Irweng  in  Fleet  Street,  at  the  White- 
friars  Gate,  where  the  entrance  to  Bouverie  Street  now 
is ;  and  Sanquhar  in  front  of  Westminster  Hall. 

Scarcely  a  trace  of  old  Whitefriars  remains  ;  but  some 
buildings  named  "  Hanging  Sword  Alley"  remind  one 
of  the  schools  of  defence,  and  Sanquhar's  revenge. 

Martyrdom  of  King  Charles  I. 

SUCH  is  the  designation  of  this  anniversary  of  English 
history — one  of  the  darkest,  the  deepest,  and  most 
impressive  of  any  age  or  time — January  30th,  1649. 

Charles  was  taken  on  the  first  morning  of  his  trial, 
January  20th,  1649,  in  a  sedan-chair,  from  Whitehall 
to  Cotton  House,  where  he  returned  to  sleep  each  day 
during  the  progress  of  the  trial  in  Westminster  Hall. 
After  this,  the  King  returned  to  Whitehall ;  but  on 
the  night  before  his  execution  he  slept  at  St  James's. 
On  January  30th  he  was  "most  barbarously  murthered 
at  his  own  door,  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon." 
(Histor.  Guide,  3rd  imp.  1688.)  Lord  Leicester  and 
Dugdale  state  that  Charles  was  beheaded  at  Whitehall 
Gate.  The  scaffold  was  erected  in  front  of  the  Ban- 
queting-house,  in  the  street  now  Whitehall.  Sir  Thomas 
Herbert  states  that  the  King  was  led  out  by  "  a  passage 

UNTVF.T?'' 
s  .  B  LliiitAR 


1 02  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

broken  through  the  wall,"  on  to  the  scaffold  ;  but  Ludlow 
asserts  that  it  was  out  of  a  window,  according  to  Vertue, 
of  a  small  building  north  of  the  Banqueting-house, 
whence  the  King  stepped  upon  the  scaffold.  A  picture 
of  the  sad  scene,  painted  by  Weesop,  in  the  manner  of 
Vandyke,  shows  the  platform,  extending  only  in  length 
before  two  of  the  windows,  to  the  commencement  of  the 
third  casement.  Weesop  visited  England  from  Hol- 
land in  164.1,  and  quitted  England  in  1649,  saying 
"he  would  never  reside  in  a  country  where  they  cut 
off  their  King's  head,  and  were  not  ashamed  of  the 
action." 

The  immediate  act  of  the  execution  has  thus  been 
forcibly  described  : — "  Men  could  discover  in  the  King 
no  indecent  haste  or  flurry  of  spirits — no  trembling  of 
limbs — no  disorder  of  speech — no  start  of  horror.  The 
blow  was  struck.  An  universal  groan,  as  it  were — a 
supernatural  voice,  the  like  never  before  heard,  broke 
forth  from  the  dense  and  countless  multitude.  All 
near  the  scaffold  pressed  forward  to  gratify  their  oppo- 
site feelings  by  some  memorial  of  his  blood — the  blood 
of  a  tyrant  or  a  martyr!  The  troops  immediately 
dispersed  on  all  sides  the  mournful  or  the  agitated 
people." 

After  the  execution,  the  body  was  embalmed  under 
the  orders  of  Sir  Thomas  Herbert  and  Bishop  Juxon, 
and  removed  to  St  James's.  Thence  the  remains 
were  conveyed  to  Windsor,  where  they  were  silently 
interred,  without  the  burial  service,  on  the  7th  of 
February,  in  a  vault  about  the  middle  of  the  choir 
of  St  George's  Chapel.  One  hundred  and  sixty-five 
years  after  the  interment, — in  181 3, — the  remains  of 
King  Charles  were  found  accidentally,  in  breaking  away 


Martyrdom  of  King  Charles  I.  103 

part  of  the  vault  of  Henry  VIII.  On  the  leaden  coffin 
being  opened,  the  body  appeared  covered  with  cerecloth  ; 
the  countenance  of  the  King  was  apparently  perfect  as 
when  he  lived  ;  the  severed  head  had  been  carefully 
adjusted  to  the  shoulders;  the  resemblance  of  the  features 
to  the  Vandyke  portraits  was  perfect,  as  well  as  the 
oval  shape-  of  the  head,  pointed  beard,  &c.  ;  the  fissure 
made  by  the  axe  was  clearly  discovered,  and  the  flesh, 
though  darkened,  was  tolerably  perfect ;  the  back  of 
the  head  and  the  place  where  it  rested  in  the  coffin 
was  stained  with  what,  on  being  tested,  was  supposed 
to  be  blood.  The  coffin  is  merely  inscribed  "  King 
Charles,  1648;"  the  whole  funeral  charges  were  but 
£229,  $s. 

Sir  Robert  Halford  was  one  of  the  most  staunch 
Royalists  in  Leicestershire,  and  frequently  assisted  the 
King  with  money  in  his  difficulties ;  and  it  is  a  remark- 
able circumstance  that  a  descendant  of  his  family,  the 
late  Sir  Henry  Halford,  should  be  the  only  person, 
besides  the  Prince  Regent,  who  viewed  the  body  of 
the  decapitated  King,  upon  its  discovery  at  Windsor. 
Sir  Henry  cut  off  a  lock  of  the  King's  hair,  and  made 
Sir  Walter  Scott  a  present  of  a  part,  which  he  had  set 
in  virgin  gold  ;  with  the  word  "  Remember"  surrounding 
it  in  highly-relieved  black  letters. 

On  the  morning  of  the  execution,  Charles  gave  to 
his  faithful  attendants  these  interesting  memorials  :  to 
Sir  Thomas  Herbert  the  silver  alarm  watch,  usually 
placed  at  the  royal  bedside ;  to  Bishop  Juxon,  a  Gold 
Medal  mint-mark,  a  rose,  probably  for  a  £$  or  £6 
piece,  which  had  been  submitted  to  the  King  by 
Rawlins,  the  engraver,  for  approval — the  likeness  of 
the  sovereign  is  very  good  ;  also  the  George  (the  jewel 


1 04  Romance  of  L  ondon . 

of  the  Order  of  the  Garter)  worn  by  Charles  but  a  few 
moments  previous  to  his  decapitation. 

These  relics  have  been  preserved,  together  with  the 
Pocket-handkerchief  used  by  Charles  at  the  time  of  his 
execution  :  it  is  of  fine  white  cambric,  and  marked  with 
the  crown,  and  initials,  "  C.  R. ;"  also,  the  Shirt  and 
Drawers  worn  by  the  King ;  and  the  Holland  sheet 
which  was  thrown  over  his  remains. 


The  Story  of  Don  Pantaleon  Set. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  Strand,  there  was  built  under 
the  auspices  of  King  James  I.,  out  of  the  rubbish  of 
the  old  stables  of  Durham  House,  a  "New  Exchange," 
planned  somewhat  on  the  model  of  the  Royal  Exchange 
in  the  City,  with  cellars  beneath,  a  walk  above ;  and 
over  that  rows  of  shops,  which  were  principally  occu- 
pied by  sempstresses  and  milliners,  who  dealt  in  small 
articles  of  dress,  fans,  gloves,  cosmetics,  and  perfumery. 
Here,  at  the  sign  of  the  Three  Spanish  Gipsies,  sat 
Ann  Clarges,  who  sold  wash-balls,  powder,  gloves,  &c, 
and  taught  girls  plain  work  ;  she  became  sempstress  to 
Colonel  Monk,  contrived  to  captivate  him,  was  married 
to  him,  it  is  believed  while  her  first  husband  was  living ; 
she  died  Duchess  of  Albemarle.  At  the  Revolution,  in 
1688,  there  sat  in  the  New  Exchange  another  sempstress, 
whose  fortunes  were  the  reverse  of  the  rise  of  Ann  Clarges. 
This  less  favoured  lady  was  Frances  Jennings,  the 
reduced  Duchess  of  Tyrconnel,  wife  to  Richard  Talbot, 
lord-deputy  of  Ireland  under  James  II. :  she  supported 
herself  for  a  few  days  (till  she  was  known,  and  otherwise 
provided  for)  by  the  little  trade  of  this  place.  To  avoid 
detection  she  invariably  wore  a  white  mask,  and  a  white 


The  Story  of  Don  Pantalcon  Sa.  105 

dress,  and  was,  therefore,  known  as  the  White  Widow. 
This  anecdote  (of  questionable  veracity)  was  ingeniously- 
dramatised  by  Mr  Douglas  Jerrold,  for  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  in  1840,  as  "The  White  Milliner." 
Gay  has  not  forgotten  to  tell  us — 

The  sempstress  speeds  to  'Change  with  red-tipt  nose. 

Thither  flocked  the  gay  gallants  to  gossip  with  the  fair 
stallkeepers,  and  ogle  the  company.  Pepys  was  a  fre- 
quent visitor  here.  In  the  winter  of  1653,  there  came 
to  England  an  ambassador  from  the  King  of  Portugal, 
with  a  very  splendid  equipage  ;  and  in  his  retinue  his 
brother,  Don  Pantaleon  Sa,  a  Knight  of  Malta,  and  "  a 
gentleman  of  a  haughty  and  imperious  nature."  One 
day  in  November,  Don  Pantaleon  was  walking  with  two 
friends,  in  the  Exchange,  when  a  quarrel  arose  between 
them  and  a  young  English  gentlemen,  named  Gerard, 
who  accused  the  Portuguese  of  speaking  in  French 
disparagingly  of  England  ;  one  of  the  Portuguese  gave 
Mr  Gerard  the  lie ;  they  then  began  to  jostle,  swords 
were  drawn,  and  all  three  fell  upon  Gerard,  and  one  of 
them  stabbed  him  with  his  dagger  in  the  shoulder.  A 
few  unarmed  Englishmen  interfered^  separated  the  com- 
batants, and  got  the  Portuguese  out  of  the  Exchange, 
one  of  them  with  a  cut  upon  his  cheek. 

Next  evening  Don  Pantaleon,  to  take  his  revenge, 
v/ith  fifty  followers;  two  Knights  of  Malta,  led  on  by  a 
Portuguese  Captain  in  buff;  all  having  generally  double 
arms,  swords  and  pistols,  and  coats  of  mail ;  two  or  three 
coaches  brought  ammunition,  hand-grenades,  and  bottles, 
and  little  barrels  of  powder  and  bullets  ;  and  boats  were 
provided  ready  at  the  water-side.  They  had  resolved 
to  fall  upon  every  Englishman  they  should  find  in  or 
about  the    Exchange.     They  entered   all   with   drawn 


io6  Romance  of  London. 

swords  ;  the  people  fled  for  shelter  into  the  shops ;  there 
were  few  Englishmen  present,  but  of  these  four  were 
severely  wounded  by  the  Portuguese.  A  Mr  Greenaway, 
of  Lincoln's  Inn,  was  walking  with  his  sister  and  a  lady 
whom  he  was  to  have  married  :  these  he  placed  for 
safety  in  a  shop ;  he  then  went  to  see  what  was  the 
matter,  when  the  Portuguese,  mistaking  Greenaway  for 
Gerard,  gave  the  word,  and  he  was  killed  by  a  pistol 
shot  through  the  head.  The  crowd  now  grew  enraged, 
and  Don  Pantaleon  and  the  Portuguese  retreated  to  the 
house  of  embassy,  caused  the  gates  to  be  shut,  and  put 
all  the  servants  in  arms  to  defend  it.  Meanwhile,  the 
Horse  Guard  on  duty  had  apprehended  some  of  the 
Portuguese;  and  Cromwell  sent  Colonel  Whaley  in 
command,  who  pursued  others  to  the  Ambassador's 
house  with  his  horse,  and  there  demanded  that  the  rest 
should  be  given  up.  The  Ambassador  insisted  upon 
his  privilege,  and  that  by  the  law  of  nations  his  house 
ivas  a  sanctuary  for  all  his  countrymen  ;  but  finding  the 
officer  resolute,  and  that  he  was  not  strong  enough  for 
the  encounter,  desired  time  to  send  to  the  Lord  General 
Cromwell,  which  was  granted,  and  he  complained  of 
the  injury,  and  desired  an  audience.  Cromwell  sent  a 
messenger  in  reply,  to  state  that  a  gentleman  had  been 
murdered,  and  several  other  persons  wounded,  and  that 
if  the  criminals  were  not  given  up,  the  soldiers  would 
be  withdrawn,  and  "  the  people  would  pull  down  the 
house,  and  execute  justice  themselves."  Under  this 
threat,  Don  Pantaleon,  three  Portuguese,  and  an  English 
boy,  the  Don's  servant,  were  given  up ;  they  were 
confined  in  the  guard-house  for  the  night,  and  next 
day  sent  prisoners  to  Newgate,  whence  in  about  three 
weeks  the  Don  made  his  escape,  but  was  retaken. 


The  Story  of  Don  Pantaleon  Sa.  107 

By  the  intercession  of  the  Portuguese  merchants,  the 
trial  was  delayed  till  the  6th  of  July  in  the  following 
year,  when  the  prisoners  were  arraigned  for  the  crime  of 
murder.  Don  Pantaleon,  at  first,  refused  to  plead,  as 
he  held  a  commission  to  act  as  Ambassador,  in  the 
event  of  his  brother's  death,  or  absence  from  England. 
He  was  then  threatened  with  the  press,  when  he  pleaded 
not  guilty.  A  jury  of  English  and  foreigners  brought 
in  a  verdict  of  guilty,  and  the  five  prisoners  were 
sentenced  to  be  hanged.  Every  effort  was  made  to 
save  Don  Pantaleon's  life;  but  Cromwell's  only  reply 
was:  "Blood  has  been  shed,  and  justice  must  be  satis- 
fied." The  only  mercy  shown  was  a  respite  of  two  days, 
and  a  reprieve  from  the  disgraceful  death  of  hanging ; 
the  Ambassador  having  requested  that  he  might  be  per- 
mitted to  kill  his  brother  with  his  own  sword,  rather 
than  he  should  be  hanged. 

A  remarkable  coincidence  concluded  this  strange 
story.  While  Don  Pantaleon  lay  in  Newgate,  awaiting 
his  trial,  Gerard,  with  whom  the  quarrel  in  the  New 
Exchange  had  arisen,  got  entangled  in  a  plot  to 
assassinate  Cromwell,  was  tried  and  condemned  to  be 
hanged,  which,  as  in  the  Don's  case,  was  changed  to 
beheading.  Both  suffered  on  the  same  day,  on  Tower 
Hill.  Don  Pantaleon,  attended  by  a  number  of  his 
brother's  suite,  was  conveyed  in  a  mourning-coach  with 
six  horses,  from  Newgate  to  Tower  PI  ill,  to  the  same 
scaffold  whereon  Gerard  had  just  suffered.  The  Don, 
after  his  devotions,  gave  his  confessor  his  beads  and 
crucifix,  laid  his  head  on  the  block,  and  it  was  chopped 
off  at  two  blows.  On  the  same  day,  the  English  boy- 
servant  was  hanged  at  Tyburn.  The  three  Portuguese 
were  pardoned.     Pennant  says   that  Gerard  died  with 


1 08  Romance  of  L ondon. 

intrepid  dignity ;  Don  Pantaleon  with  all  the  pusil- 
lanimity of  an  assassin.  Cromwell's  stern  and  haughty 
justice,  and  perfect  retribution  exacted  on  this  occasion, 
have  been  much  extolled :  it  tended  to  render  his 
Government  still  more  respected  abroad  ;  and  settled  a 
knotty  point  as  to  "  the  inviolability  of  ambassadors." 

Sir  Richard  Willis's  Plot  against 
Charles  II. 

At  Lincoln's  Inn,  in  the  south  angle  of  the  great 
court,  leading  out  of  Chancery  Lane,  formerly  called 
the  Gate-house  Court,  but  now  Old  Buildings,  and  on 
the  left  hand  of  the  ground  floor  of  No.  24,  Oliver 
Cromwell's  Secretary,  Thurloe,  had  chambers  from  1645 
to  1659.  Thither  one  night  came  Cromwell  for  the 
purpose  of  discussing  secret  and  important  business. 
They  had  conversed  together  for  some  time,  when 
Cromwell  suddenly  perceived  a  clerk  asleep  at  his  desk. 
This  happened  to  be  Mr  Morland,  afterwards  Sir 
Samuel  Morland,  the  famous  mechanician,  and  not 
unknown  as  a  statesman.  Cromwell,  it  is  affirmed,  drew 
his  dagger,  and  would  have  despatched  him  on  the 
spot,  had  not  Thurloe,  with  some  difficulty,  prevented 
him.  He  assured  him  that  his  intended  victim  was 
certainly  sound  asleep,  since,  to  his  own  knowledge,  he 
had  been  sitting  up  the  two  previous  nights.  But 
Morland  only  feigned  sleep,  and  overheard  the  conversa- 
tion, which  was  a  plot  for  throwing  the  young  King 
Charles  II.,  then  resident  at  Bruges,  and  the  Dukes  of 
York  and  Gloucester,  into  the  hands  of  the  Protector ; 
Sir  Richard  Willis  having  planned  that,  on  a  stated 
day,  they  should  pass  over  to  a  certain  port  in  Sussex, 


Willis's  Plot  against  Charles  IT.  109 

where  they  would  be  received  on  landing  by  a  body  of 
5CO  men,  to  be  augmented  on  the  following  morning  by 
2coo  horse.  Had  the  royal  exiles  fallen  into  the  snare, 
it  seems  that  all  three  would  have  been  shot  immedi- 
ately on  reaching  the  shore  ;  but  Morland  disclosed  the 
designs  to  the  royal  party,  and  thus  frustrated  the 
diabolical  scheme. 

The  suites  of  chambers  of  which  we  have  been  speak- 
ing were  chiefly  erected  about  the  time  of  King  James 
I. ;  and  notwithstanding  that  square-headed  doorways 
have  superseded  the  arches,  and  sashed  windows  have 
taken  the  places  of  the  original  lattices  and  mullions, 
the  buildings  retain  much  of  their  original  character.* 
Curious  it  is  to  reflect,  as  we  pass  through  "  the  great 
legal  thoroughfare  "  of  Chancery  Lane,  that  in  Thurloe's 
chambers,  by  a  slight  stratagem,  was  saved,  some  two 
centuries  since,  the  Royal  cause  of  England.  Cromwell 
must  often  have  been  in  these  chambers  at  Lincoln's 
Inn  ;  and  here,  by  the  merest  accident,  was  discovered 
in  the  reign  of  William  III.  a  collection  of  papers  con- 
cealed in  the  false  ceiling  of  a  garret,  in  the  same  house, 
by  a  clergyman  who  had  borrowed  the  rooms  during 
the  long  vacation,  of  his  friend,  Mr  Tomlinson,  the 
owner  of  them.  This  clergyman  soon  after  disposed  of 
the  papers  to  Lord  Chancellor  Somers,  who  caused 
them  to  be  bound  up  in  67  volumes  in  folio.  These 
form  the  principal  part  of  the  Collections  afterwards 
published  by  Dr  Birch,  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Thurloe  State  Papers. 

The  above  anecdote  is  told  by  Birch,  in  his  Life 
of  Thurloe,  but  rests  upon  evidence  which  has  been 
questioned.     There  is  a  tradition,  too,  that  Cromwell 

*  Lincoln's  Inn  and  its  Library,  by  Spilsbury. 


no  Romance  of  L ondon. 

had  chambers  in  or  near  the  Gate-house,  but  his  name 
is  not  in  the  registers  of  the  Society ;  his  son  Richard 
was  admitted  as  student  in  the  23rd  year  of  Charles  II. 

Mansion  of  a  City  Merchant  Prince. 

The  fine  old  mansion  or  palace  of  Sir  Robert  Clay- 
ton (of  the  time  of  Charles  II.),  on  the  east  side  of 
Old  Jewry,  was  taken  down  in  the  year  1863.  The 
street  has  a  host  of  memories :  indeed,  for  its  length,  it 
is  one  of  the  most  historical  thoroughfares  in  the 
city  of  London.  Sir  Robert  Clayton  (who  has  lately 
been  often  named  as  the  munificent  benefactor  to  St 
Thomas's  Hospital)  built  the  above  stately  mansion  in 
the  Old  Jewry,  for  keeping  his  shrievalty,  in  the  year 

1671.  It  was  nobly  placed  upon  a  stone  balustraded 
terrace,  in  a  courtyard,  and  was  of  fine  red  brick, 
richly  ornamented.  John  Evelyn,  who  was  a  guest  at 
a  great  feast  here,  describes,   in  his  Diary,  Sept.  26, 

1672,  the  mansion  as  "built  indeede  for  a  greate 
magistrate  at  excessive  cost.  The  cedar  dining-room 
is  painted  with  the  history  of  the  Gyants'  War, 
incomparably  done  by  Mr  Streeter  ;  but  the  figures  are 
too  near  the  eye."  Mr  Bray,  the  editor  of  the  Diary, 
added,  in  1818,  "these  paintings  have  long  since  been 
removed  to  the  seat  of  the  Clayton  family,  at  Marden 
Park,  near  Godstone,  in  Surrey  ; "  in  the  possession  of 
the  present  Baronet.  In  1679-80  Charles  II.  and  the 
Duke  of  York  supped  at  the  mansion  in  the  Old  Jewry, 
with  Sir  Robert  Clayton,  then  Lord  Mayor.  The 
balconies  of  the  houses  in  the  streets  were  illuminated 
with  flambeaux  ;  and  the  King  and  the  Duke  had  a 
passage  made  for  them  by  the  Trained  Bands  upon  the 


Mansion  of  a  City  Merchant  Prince.  1 1 1 

guard  from  Cheapside.  Sir  Robert  represented  the 
metropolis  nearly  thirty  years  in  Parliament,  and  was 
Father  of  the  City  at  his  decease.  His  son  was  created 
a  Baronet  in  173 1-2.  Sir  James  Thornhill  painted  the 
staircase  of  the  old  Jewry  mansion  with  the  story  of 
Hercules  and  Omphale,  besides  a  copy  of  the  Rape  of 
Dejanira,  after  Guido. 

The  house  was  a  magnificent  example  of  a  City 
merchant's  residence,  and  had  several  tenants  before  it 
was  occupied  by  Samuel  Sharp,  the  celebrated  surgeon. 
In  1806,  it  was  opened  as  the  temporary  home  of  the 
London  Institution,  with  its  library  of  10,000  volumes. 
Here,  in  the  rooms  he  occupied  as  librarian  of  the 
Institution,  died  Professor  Porson,  on  the  night  of 
Sunday,  Sept.  25,  1S08,  with  a  deep  groan,  exactly  as 
the  clock  struck  twelve.  Dr  Adam  Clarke  has  left  a 
most  interesting  account  of  his  visits  to  Porson  here. 
The  Institution  removed  from  the  house  in  18 10,  and  it 
was  next  occupied  as  the  Museum  of  the  London 
Missionary  Society,  and  subsequently  divided  into 
offices.  The  Lord  Mayor's  Court  was  latterly  held  here. 
Although  it  had  been  built  scarcely  two  centuries,  this 
mansion  was  a  very  handsome  specimen  of  the  palace 
of  a  merchant  prince,  with  ceilings  and  walls  glowing 
with  gold,  and  colour,  and  classic  story ;  and,  with  its 
spacious  banqueting-room,  carrying  us  back  to  the 
sumptuous  civic  life  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries,  when  our  rich  citizens  lived  in  splendour  upon 
the  sites  whereon  they  had  accumulated  their  well- 
earned  wealth. 


]  1 2  Romance  of  L  ondon. 


Treasure-Seeking  in  the  Tower. 

PEPYS,  in  various  entries  in  his  Diary,  describes  this 
very  strange  secret : — "October  30,  1662.     To  my  Lord 
Sandwich,  who  was  in  his  chamber  all  alone,  and  did 
inform  me,  that  our  old  acquaintance,  Mr  Wade,  hath 
discovered  to  him  ^"7000  hid  in  the  Tower,  of  which  he 
was  to  have  two  for  the  discovery,  my  Lord  two,  and 
the  King  the  other  three,  when  it  was  found  ;  and  that 
the  King's  warrant  to  search,  runs  for  me  and  one  Mr 
Lee.     So  we  went,  and  the  guard  at  the  Tower-gate 
making  me  leave  my  sword,  I  was  forced  to  stay  so  long 
at  the  alehouse  close  by,  till  my  boy  run  home  for  my 
cloak.     Then  walked  to  Minchen  Lane,  and  got  from 
Sir  H.  Bennet  the  King's  warrant,  for  the  paying  of 
.£2000  to  my  Lord,  and  other  two  of  the  discoverers. 
(This  does  not  agree  with  the  first  statement  as  to  sharing 
the  money.)     After  dinner  we  broke  the  matter  to  the 
Lord  Mayor,  who  did  not,  and  durst  not,  appear  the 
least   averse  to  it.     So   Lee  and  I  and  Mr  Wade  were 
joined  by  Evett,  the  guide,  W.  Griffin,  and  a  porter  with 
pickaxes.     Coming  to  the  Tower,  our  guide  demands  a 
candle,  and  down  into  the  cellars  he  goes.     He  went 
into  several  little  cellars  and  then  out  of  doors  to  view, 
but  none  did  answer  so  well  to  the  marks  as  one  arched 
vault,  where,  after  much  talk,  to  digging  we  went,  till 
almost  eight  o'clock  at  night,  but  could  find   nothing; 
yet  the  guides  were  not  discouraged.     Locking  the  door, 
we  left  for  the  night,  and  up  to  the  Deputy-Governor, 
and  he  do  undertake  to  keep  the  key,  that  none  shall  go 
down  without  his  privity.     November  1st.    To  the  Tower 
to  make  one  triall  more,  where  we  staid  several  hours, 


Colonel  Blood  Steals  the  Crown  from  the  Tozver.  1 1 3 

and  dug  a  great  deal  under  the  arches,  but  we  missed  of 
all,  and  so  went  away  the  second  time  like  fools.  To 
the  Dolphin  Tavern.  Met  Wade  and  Evett,  who  do 
say  that  they  had  it  from  Barkestead's  own  mouth.  He 
did  much  to  convince  me  that  there  is  good  ground  for 
what  he  goes  about.  November  4th.  Mr  Lee  and  I 
to  the  Tower  to  make  our  third  attempt  upon  the  cellar. 
A  woman,  Barkestead's  confidante,  was  privately  brought, 
who  do  positively  say  that  this  is  the  place  where  the 
said  money  was  hid,  and  where  he  and  she  did  put  up 
the  £7000  in  butter-firkins.  We,  full  of  hope,  did  resolve 
to  dig  all  over  the  cellar,  which,  by  seven  o'clock  at  night, 
we  performed.  At  noon  we  sent  for  a  dinner,  dined 
merrily  on  the  head  of  a  barrel,  and  to  work  again.  But, 
at  last,  having  dug  the  cellar  quite  through,  removing 
the  barrels  from  one  side  to  the  other,  we  were  forced  to 
pay  our  porters,  and  give  over  our  expectations,  though, 
I  do  believe,  there  must  be  money  hid  somewhere." 
Under  December  17th,  we  read  : — "  This  morning  come 
Lee,  Wade,  and  Evett,  intending  to  have  gone  upon  our 
new  design  upon  the  Tower,  but,  it  raining,  and  the  work 
being  to  be  done  in  the  open  garden,  we  put  it  off  to 
Friday  next."     Such  is  the  last  we  hear  of  this  odd  affair. 

Colonel  Blood  Steals  the  Crown  from  the 

Tower. 

Scarcely  had  the  public  amazement  subsided  at  Colonel 
Blood's  outrage  upon  the  Duke  of  Ormond,*  when,  with 
the  view  of  repairing  his  fallen  fortunes,  he  plotted  to 
steal  the  crown,  the  sceptre,  and  the  rest  of  the  regalia 
from  the  Tower,  and  share  them  between  himself  and 

*  See  pp.  130-132. 
VOL.  I.  II 


1 1 4  Romance  of  L  ondon . 

his  accomplices.  The  regalia  were,  at  this  time,  in  the 
care  of  an  aged  man,  named  Talbot  Edwards,  who  was 
exhibitor  of  the  jewels,  &c,  and  with  whom  Blood  first 
made  acquaintance,  disguised  "in  a  long  cloak,  cassock, 
and  canonical  girdle,"  with  a  woman  whom  he  represented 
as  his  wife,  who  accompanied  him  to  see  the  crown  and 
jewels.  The  lady  feigned  to  be  taken  ill,  upon  which 
they  were  conducted  into  the  exhibitor's  lodgings,  where 
Mr  Edwards  gave  her  a  cordial,  and  treated  her  other- 
wise with  kindness.  They  thanked  him,  and  parted  ; 
and,  in  a  few  days,  the  pretended  parson  again  called 
with  a  present  of  gloves  for  Mrs  Edwards,  in  acknow- 
ledgment of  her  civility.  The  parties  then  became  inti- 
mate, and  Blood  proposed  a  match  between  Edwards's 
daughter  and  a  supposed  nephew  of  the  Colonel,  whom 
he  represented  as  possessed  of  ^200  or  ^300  a  year  in 
land.  It  was  arranged,  at  Blood's  suggestion,  that  he 
should  bring  his  nephew,  to  be  introduced  to  the  lady, 
at  seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  ninth  of  May 
1 67 1  ;  and  he  further  asked  leave  to  bring  with  him  two 
friends  to  see  the  regalia,  at  the  above  early  hour,  as 
they  must  leave  town  in  the  forenoon. 

Strype,  the  antiquary,  who  received  his  account  from 
the  younger  Edwards,  tells  us  that,  "at  the  appointed 
time  the  old  man  rose  ready  to  receive  his  guest,  and 
the  daughter  dressed  herself  gaily  to  receive  her  gallant, 
when,  behold,  parson  Blood,  with  three  men,  came  to 
the  jewel-house,  all  armed  with  rapier  blades  in  their 
canes,  and  each  with  a  dagger  and  a  pair  of  pistols. 
Two  of  his  companions  entered  with  him,  and  a  third 
stayed  at  the  door,  to  watch.  Blood  told  Edwards  that 
they  would  not  go  upstairs  until  his  wife  came,  and 
desired  him  to  show  his  friends  the  crown,  to  pass  the 


Blood  Steals  the  Crown  from  the  Tozver.  1 1 5 

time.  This  was  agreed  to ;  but  no  sooner  had  they 
entered  the  room  where  the  crown  was  kept,  and  the 
door,  as  usual,,  been  shut,*  than  'they  threw  a  cloth 
over  the  old  man's  head,  and  clapt  a  gag  into  his  mouth.' 
Thus  secured,  they  told  him,  that  'their  resolution  was 
to  have  the  crown,  globe,  and  sceptre ;  and  if  he  would 
quietly  submit  to  it,  they  would  spare  his  life,  otherwise, 
he  was  to  expect  no  mercy.'  Notwithstanding  this  threat, 
Edwards  made  all  the  noise  he  could,  to  be  heard  above ; 
1  they  then  knocked  him  down  with  a  wooden  mallet, 
which  they  had  brought  with  them  to  beat  together  and 
flatten  the  crown — and  told  him  that  if  yet  he  would  be 
quiet,  they  would  spare  his  life,  but  if  not,  upon  his  next 
attempt  to  discover  them,  they  would  kill  him,  and  they 
pointed  three  daggers  at  his  breast,' — and  the  official 
account  states,  stabbed  him  in  the  belly.  Edwards, 
however,  persisted  in  making  a  noise,  when  they  struck 
him  on  the  head,  and  he  became  insensible,  but,  recover- 
ing, lay  quiet.  The  three  villains  now  went  deliberately 
to  work  :  one  of  them,  Parrot,  put  the  globe  (orb)  into 
his  breeches ;  Blood  concealed  the  crown  under  his 
cloak  ;  and  another  was  proceeding  to  file  the  sceptre 
assunder,  in  order  that  it  might  be  put  into  a  bag, 
•  because  too  long  to  carry.' " 

Thus,  they  would  have  succeeded,  but  for  the  oppor- 
tune arrival  of  young  Mr  Edwards,  from  Flanders, 
accompanied  by  his  brother-in-law,  Captain  Beckman, 
who  proceeded  upstairs  to  the  apartments  occupied  by 
the  Edwardses.     Blood  and  his  accomplices,  thus  inter- 

*  In  the  room  in  the  Martin  tower,  where  the  regalia  were  kept,  before 
the  erection  of  the  new  Jewel  Office,  the  crown,  &c,  were  shown  behind 
strong  iron  bars,  which,  it  was  slated,  were  put  up  in  consequence  of 
Blood's  robbery  ;  on  one  occasion,  a  female  spectator  passed  her  hands 
through  the  bars,  and  nearly  tore  the  crown  to  pieces. 


1 1 6  Romance  of  London. 

rupted,  instantly  decamped  with  the  crown  and  orb, 
leaving  the  sceptre,  which  they  had  not  time  to  file. 
Edwards,  now  freed  from  the  gag,  shouted  "Treason!" 
"  Murder !"  and  his  daughter  rushing  out  into  the  court, 
gave  the  alarm,  and  cried  out  that  the  crown  was 
stolen.  Edwards  and  Captain  Beckman  pursued  the 
thieves,  who  reached  the  drawbridge ;  here  the  warder 
attempted  to  stop  them,  when  Blood  discharged  a  pistol 
at  him ;  he  fell  down,  and  they  succeeded  in  clearing 
the  gates,  reached  the  wharf,  and  were  making  for  St 
Katherine's-gate,  where  horses  were  ready  for  them, 
when  they  were  overtaken  by  Captain  Beckman. 
Blood  discharged  his  second  pistol  at  the  Captain's 
head,  but  he  escaped  by  stooping,  and  seized  Blood, 
who  struggled  fiercely ;  but  on  the  crown  being  wrested 
from  him,  in  a  tone  of  disappointment  he  exclaimed, 
"  It  was  a  gallant  attempt,  however  unsuccessful,  for  it 
was  for  a  crown  !"  A  few  of  the  jewels  fell  from  the 
crown  in  the  struggle,  but  they  were  recovered  and 
replaced.  Blood,  with  Parrot  (who  had  the  orb  and 
the  most  valuable  jewel  of  the  sceptre — the  baleas 
ruby — in  his  pocket),  were  secured,  and  lodged  in  the 
White  Tower,  and  three  others  of  the  party  were  sub- 
sequently captured.  Parrot  was  a  dyer  in  Thames 
Street.  One  of  the  gang  was  apprehended  as  he  was 
escaping  on  horseback. 

Young  Edwards  now  hastened  to  Sir  Gilbert  Talbot, 
master  of  the  jewel-house,  and  described  the  transac- 
tion, which  Sir  Gilbert  instantly  communicated  to  the 
King,  who  commanded  him  to  return  forthwith  to  the 
Tower,  and  when  he  had  taken  the  examination  of 
Blood,  and  the  others,  to  report  it  to  him.  Sir  Gilbert, 
accordingly,  returned  ;  but  the  King,  in  the  meantime, 


Blood  Steals  the  Crown  from  the  Tozver.         1 1 7 

was  persuaded  by  some  about  him  to  hear  the  examina- 
tion himself;  and  the  prisoners,  in  consequence,  were 
immediately  sent  to  Whitehall ;  a  circumstance  which 
is  thought  to  have  saved  them  from  the  gallows.  Blood 
behaved  with  great  effrontery ;  being  interrogated  on 
his  recent  outrage  on  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  he  acknow- 
ledged, without  hesitation,  that  he  was  one  of  the 
party ;  but  on  being  asked  who  were  his  associates,  he 
replied  that  "  he  would  never  betray  a  friend's  life,  nor 
deny  a  guilt  in  defence  of  his  own."  Lest  the  conceal- 
ments of  his  associates  should  detract  from  the  romance 
of  his  life,  he  also  voluntarily  confessed  to  the  King 
that  he,  Blood,  on  one  occasion,  concealed  himself 
among  the  reeds  above  Battersea,  in  order  to  shoot  his 
Majesty  while  bathing  in  the  Thames,  over  against 
Chelsea,  where  he  often  went  to  swim  ; — that  he  had 
taken  aim  for  that  purpose,  but  "his  heart  was  checked 
by  an  awe  of  Majesty;"  and  he  did  not  only  himself 
relent,  but  also  diverted  his  associates  from  the  design. 
This  story  was,  probably,  false ;  but  it  had  its  designed 
effect  on  the  King,  strengthened  by  Blood's  declaration 
that  there  were  hundreds  of  his  friends  disaffected  to 
the  King  and  his  ministers  ;  whereas,  by  sparing  the 
lives  of  the  few,  he  might  oblige  the  hearts  of  many, 
"who,  as  they  had  been  seen  to  do  daring  mischief, 
would  be  as  bold,  if  received  into  pardon  and  favour,  to 
perform  eminent  services  for  the  crown." 

Thus  did  the  audacious  and  wary  villain  partly  over- 
awe and  partly  captivate  the  good  nature  of  the  King, 
who  not  only  pardoned  Blood,  but  gave  him  a  grant  in 
land  of  ^500  a  year  in  Ireland,  and  even  treated  him 
with  great  consideration,  "as  the  Indians  reverence 
devils,  that  they  may  not   hurt    them."     Blood   is   said 


1 1 8  Romance  of  London. 

also  to  have  frequented  the  same  apartments  in  White- 
hall as  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  who  had  some  time  before 
barely  escaped  assassination. 

Charles  received  a  cutting  rebuke  for  his  conduct 
from  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  who  had  still  the  right  of 
prosecuting  Blood  for  the  attempt  on  his  life.  When 
the  King  resolved  to  take  the  Colonel  into  his  favour, 
he  sent  Lord  Arlington  to  inform  the  Duke  that  it  was 
his  pleasure  that  he  should  not  prosecute  Blood,  for 
reasons  which  he  was  to  give  him  ;  Arlington  was 
interrupted  by  Ormond,  who  said,  with  formal  polite- 
ness, that  "his  Majesty's  command  was  the  only  reason 
that  could  be  given ;  and  therefore  he  might  spare  the 
rest."  Edwards  and  his  son,  who  had  been  the  means 
of  saving  the  regalia,  were  treated  with  neglect ;  the 
only  rewards  they  received  being  grants  on  the  Ex- 
chequer, of  ;£200  to  the  old  man,  and  ^"ioo  to  his  son ; 
which  they  were  obliged  to  sell  for  half  their  value, 
through  difficulty  in  obtaining  payment. 

Strype  adds,  "  What  could  have  been  King  Charles's 
real  motive  for  extending  mercy  to  Blood  must  for  ever 
be  a  mystery  to  the  world  : "  unless  it  was  to  employ 
his  audacity  "  to  overawe  any  man  who  had  not  integ- 
rity enough  to  resist  the  measures  of  a  most  profligate 
Court." 

Colonel  Blood,  not  long  after  his  Tower  exploit,  was 
met  in  good  society  by  Evelyn,  who,  however,  remarked 
his  "villainous,  unmerciful  look;  a  false  countenance, 
but  very  well  spoken,  and  dangerously  insinuating." 
Evelyn  has,  however,  committed  a  strange  error  with 
respect  to  Blood  ;  for  he  inserts  in  his  Diary,  under 
May  10,  1 67 1  (the  very  day  after  the  Colonel's  Tower 
exploit),  that  he,   Evelyn,    "  dined    at    Mr  Treasurer's 


Blood  Steals  tlic  Crown  from  the  Tower.         119 

in  company  with  M.  de  Grammont,  and  several  French 
noblemen,  and  one  Blood,  that  impudent,  bold  fellow, 
who  had  not  long  before  attempted  to  steal  the  imperial 
crown  itself  out  of  the  Tower,"  &c.  Evelyn  must  be 
in  error.  "  He  could  not,"  remarks  Mr  Cunningham, 
"have  dined  the  next  day  at  Sir  Thomas  Clifford's." 
Blood  latterly  lived  in  Westminster,  traditionally,  in 
a  house  at  the  corner  of  Peter  and  Tufton  Streets. 
He  subsequently  libelled  his  former  patron,  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  who  obtained  in  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  a  verdict  of  ^10,000  damages.  Blood  was  thrown 
into  prison,  but  found  bail.  But  the  effect  was  too 
much  for  him,  and  after  fourteen  days'  sickness  he  fell 
into  a  lethargy,  and  expired  August  24,  16S0. 

Blood  was  quietly  interred  in  New  Chapel  Yard, 
Broadway,  Westminster,  two  days  after.  "But,"  says 
Cunningham,  "dying  and  being  buried  were  considered 
by  the  common  people  in  the  light  of  a  new  trick  on 
the  part  of  their  old  friend  the  Colonel.  So  the  coroner 
was  sent  for,  the  body  taken  up,  and  a  jury  summoned. 
There  was  some  difficulty  at  first  in  identifying  the 
body.  At  length  the  thumb  of  the  left  hand,  which  in 
Blood's  lifetime  was  known  to  be  twice  its  proper  size, 
set  the  matter  everlastingly  at  rest;  the  jury  separated, 
and  the  notorious  Colonel  was  restored  to  his  grave  in 
the  New  Chapel  Yard. 

In  the  Luttrell  collection  of  Broadsides  in  the 
British  Museum,  is  one  styled  "An  Elegie  on  Colonel 
Blood,  notorious  for  stealing  the  crown,"  in  which  we 
read  : — 

Thanks,  ye  kind  fates,  for  your  last  favour  shown, — 
For  stealing  Blood,  who  lately  stole  the  crown. 

The  conclusion  is': — 


120  Romance  of  London. 

At  last  our  famous  hero,  Colonel  Blood, — 

Seeing  his  projects  all  will  do  no  good, 

And  that  success  was  still  to  him  denied, — 

Fell  sick  with  grief,  broke  his  great  heart,  and  died. 

The  Literary  Fund  Society  possess,  in  their  house 
on  the  Adelphi  Terrace,  the  two  daggers  employed  by 
Blood  and  Parrot  at  the  Tower ;  they  are  beautifully 
chased  and  inlaid ;  the  handles  are  of  a  dark-red  wood, 
and  the  sheaths  of  embossed  leather.  Blood's  dagger 
(the  larger  one)  is  engraved  with  a  griffin-like  figure, 
and  is  dated  1620;  Parrot's  is  engraved  plainly  on 
both  sides  with  the  fleur-de-lis. 

Both  weapons  are  described  as  above,  and  engraved 
in  the  Illustrated  London  News. 

77ie  Story  of  Nan  Clarges,  Duchess  of 

Albemarle. 

The  most  singular  portion  of  General  Monk's  private 
history  is  his  marriage,  the  validity  of  which  was 
contested  upon  the  trial  of  an  action  at  law  between 
the  representatives  of  Monk  and  Clarges,  when  some 
curious  particulars  came  out  respecting  the  family  of 
the  Duchess. 

"  It  appeared  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  John 
Clarges,  a  farrier  in  the  Savoy,  and  farrier  to  Colonel 
Monk,  in  1632.  She  was  married  in  the  Church  of 
St  Lawrence  Pountney,  to  Thomas  Ratford,  son  of 
Thomas  Ratford,  late  a  farrier  servant  to  the  Prince 
Charles,  and  resident  in  the  Mews.  She  had  a  daughter, 
who  was  born  in  1634,  and  died  in  1638.  Her  husband 
and  she  '  lived  at  the  Three  Spanish  Gypsies,  in  the 
New  Exchange,   and  sold  wash-balls,  powder,  gloves, 


The  Story  of  Nan  Clarges.  121 

and  such  things,  and  she  taught  girls  plain  work* 
About  1647,  she,  being  a  sempstress  to  Colonel  Monk, 
used  to  carry  him  linen.'  In  1648,  her  father  and 
mother  died.  In  1649,  she  and  her  husband  'fell  out 
and  parted/  But  no  certificate  from  any  parish  register 
appears,  reciting  his  burial.  In  1652,  she  was  married 
in  the  Church  of  St  George,  Southwark,  to  '  General 
George  Monk ; '  and  in  the  following  year  was  delivered 
of  a  son,  Christopher  (afterwards  the  second  and  last 
Duke  of  Albemarle),  who  was  suckled  by  Honour 
Mills,  who  sold  apples,  herbs,  oysters,  &c.  One  of 
the  plaintiff's  witnesses  swore,  '  that  a  little  before 
the  sickness,  Thomas  Ratford  demanded  and  received 
of  him  the  sum  of  twentv  shillings ;  that  his  wife  saw 
Ratford  again  after  the  sickness,  and  a  second  time 
after  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Albemarle  were  dead.' 
A  woman  swore,  '  she  saw  him  on  the  day  his  wife 
(then  called  Duchess  of  Albemarle)  was  put  into  her 
coffin,  which  was  after  the  death  of  the  Duke,  her  second 
husband,  who  died  the  3d  of  January,  1669-70. 

"A  third  witness  swore,  that  'hesaw  Ratford  about  July 
1660.'  In  opposition  to  this  evidence,  it  was  alleged, 
that  'all  along,  during  the  lives  of  Duke  George  and 
Duke  Christopher,  this  matter  was  never  questioned,' 
that  the  latter  was  universally  received  as  only  son  of 
the  former,  and  that  'this  matter  had  been  thrice  before 
tried  at  the  bar  of  the  King's  Bench,  and  the  defendant 
had  three  verdicts.'  A  witness  swore  that  he  owed 
Ratford  five  or  six  pounds,  which  he  had  never  demanded. 
And  a  man,  who  had  married  a  cousin  to  the  Duke  of 
Albemarle,  had  been  told  by  his  wife,  that  Ratford  died 
five  or  six  years  before  the  Duke  married.     Lord  Chief 

*  See  p.  104,  ante. 


1 2  2  Romance  of  L  on  don. 

Justice  Holt  told  the  jury,  'If  you  are  certain  that  Duke 
Christopher  was  born  while  Thomas  Ratford  was  living, 
you  must  find  for  the  plaintiff.  If  you  believe  he  was 
born  after  Ratford  was  dead,  or  that  nothing  appears 
what  became  of  him  after  Duke  George  married  his 
wife,  you  must  find  for  the  defendant.'  A  verdict  was 
given  for  the  defendant,  who  was  only  son  to  Sir 
Thomas  Clarges,  knight,  brother  to  the  illustrious 
Duchess." 

It  does  not  appear  on  which  of  these  accounts  the 
jury  found  a  verdict  for  the  defendant — whether  because 
Ratford  was  dead,  or  because  nothing  had  been  heard 
of  him  ;  so  that  the  Duchess,  after  all,  might  have  been 
no  Duchess.  However,  she  carried  it  with  as  high  a 
hand  as  if  she  had  never  been  anything  else,  and  Monk 
had  been  a  blacksmith.  Pepys  gives  some  spiteful 
notices  of  her ;  describing  her  as  "  ever  a  plain  and 
homely  dowdy,"  and  "  a  very  ill-looked  woman,"  and 
going  still  further  : — 

4th  (Nov.  1666).  Pepys  says  that  Mr  Cooling  tells 
him,  "  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  is  grown  a  drunken  sot, 
and  drinks  with  nobody  but  Troutbecke,  whom  nobody 
else  will  keep  company  with.  Of  whom  he  told  me 
this  story  :  that  once  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  in  his 
drink  taking  notice,  as  of  a  wonder,  that  Nan  Hide 
should  ever  come  to  be  Duchess  of  York  :  '  Nay,'  says 
Troutbecke,  '  ne'er  wonder  at  that,  for  if  you  will  give 
me  another  bottle  of  wine,  I  will  tell  you  as  great,  if 
not  greater,  miracle/  And  what  was  that,  but  that  our 
dirty  Besse  (meaning  his  Duchess)  should  come  to  be 
Duchess  of  Albemarle." 

"4th  (April,  1667).  I  find  the  Duke  of  Albemarle 
at  dinner  with  sorry  company,  some  of  his  officers  of 


The  Story  of  Nan  Clargcs.  123 

the  army ;  dirty  dishes  and  a  nasty  wife  at  table,  and 
bad  meat,  of  which  I  made  but  an  ill  dinner.  Colonel 
Howard  asking  how  the  Prince  (Rupert)  did  (in  the 
last  fight)  ;  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  answering,  '  Pretty 
well ; '  the  other  replied,  '  but  not  so  well  as  to  go  to 
sea  again.' — '  How  ! '  says  the  Duchess,  '  what  should  he 
go  for,  if  he  were  well,  for  there  are  no  ships  for  him  to 
command  ?  And  so  you  have  brought  your  hogs  to  a 
fair  market,'  said  she." 

The  Duchess  of  Albemarle  is  supposed  to  have  had 
a  considerable  hand  in  the  Restoration.  She  was  a 
great  loyalist,  and  Monk  was  afraid  of  her  ;  so  that  it 
is  likely  enough  she  influenced  his  gross  understanding, 
when  it  did  not  exactly  know  what  to  be  at.  Aubrey 
says,  that  her  mother  was  one  of  the  "  five  women 
barbers,"  thus  sung  of  in  a  ballad  of  the  time  : 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  like, 

Or  ever  hear  the  fame, 
Of  five  women  barbers, 

That  lived  in  Drury  Lane  ? 

After  all,  her  father,  John  Clarges,  must  have  been  a 
man  of  substance  in  his  trade.  According  to  Aubrey's 
Lives  (written  about  1680),  Clarges  had  his  forge  upon 
the  site  of  No.  317,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Strand. 
"  The  shop  is  still  of  that  trade,"  says  Aubrey ;  "  the 
corner  shop,  the  first  turning,  on  ye  right  hand,  as  you 
come  out  the  Strand  into  Drury  Lane  :  the  house  is  now 
built  of  brick."  The  house  alluded  to  is  believed  to  be 
that  at  the  right-hand  corner  of  Drury  Court,  now  a 
butcher's.  An  adjoining  house,  in  the  court,  is  now  a 
whitesmith's,  with  a  forge,  &c.  Upon  Monk's  being 
raised  to  the  Dukedom,  and  her  becoming  Duchess  of 
Albemarle,  her  father,  the  farrier,  raised  a  Maypole  in 


124  Romance  of  L  ondon, 

the  Strand,  nearly  opposite  his  forge,  to  commemorate 
his  daughter's  good  fortune.  She  died  a  few  days  after 
the  Duke,  and  is  interred  by  his  side  in  Henry  VII. 's 
Chapel,  Westminster  Abbey.  The  Duke  was  succeeded 
by  his  son,  Christopher,  who  married  Lady  Elizabeth 
Cavendish,  granddaughter  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  and 
died  childless.  The  Duchess's  brother,  Thomas  Clarges, 
was  a  physician  of  note  ;  was  created  a  baronet  in  1674, 
and  was  ancestor  to  the  baronets;  whence  is  named 
Clarges  Street,  Piccadilly. 

Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey — His 
Mysterious  Death. 

One  of  the  darkest  blots  upon  our  Annals  is  the  so- 
called  Popish  Plot  in  1678,  first  broached  by  the  in- 
famous Titus  Oates  and  Dr  Tongue,  and  accusing  the 
Roman  Catholics  of  an  atrocious  conspiracy  to  assassi- 
nate the  King,  massacre  all  Protestants,  and  establish  a 
Popish  dynasty  in  the  Duke  of  York.  So  little  attention 
was  at  first  given  by  Charles  and  his  Council  to  Oates's 
discoveries,  that  nearly  six  weeks  were  suffered  to  elapse 
before  any  serious  or  strict  examination  was  made  into 
the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  Plot.  At  length,  Oates 
and  his  accomplice,  Tongue,  resolved  in  some  way  to 
make  the  matter  public;  and,  as  a  preparatory  step, 
Oates  drew  up  a  narrative  of  particulars,  to  the  truth 
of  which  he  solemnly  deposed  before  Sir  Edmund  Berry 
Godfrey,  who  was  an  eminent  Justice  of  the  Peace. 
"  This,"  says  Burnet,  "  seemed  to  be  done  in  distrust  of 
the  Privy  Council,  as  if  they  might  stifle  his  evidence ; 
which  to  prevent  he  put  into  safe  hands.  Upon  that 
Godfrey  was  chid  for  his  presuming  to  meddle  in  so 


Murder  of  Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey.  125 

tender  a  matter,"  and,  as  appeared  from  subsequent 
events,  a  plan  was  immediately  laid  to  murder  him  ; 
and  this,  within  a  few  weeks,  was  but  too  fatally 
executed. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Council,  which  had  now  taken 
up  the  business  with  warmth,  ordered  various  arrests 
of  Jesuits  and  Papists  to  be  made.  Coleman,  Secretary 
to  the  Duke  of  York,  was  first  committed  to  the  charge 
of  a  messenger  ;  and  whilst  in  his  custody,  it  was  gene- 
rally believed  that  he  had  a  long  private  conversation 
with  Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey,  who,  "it  is  certain," 
says  Burnet,  "  grew  apprehensive  and  reserved  ;  for, 
meeting  me  in  the  street,  after  some  discourse  on  .the 
present  state  of  affairs,  he  said,  he  believed  he  himself 
should  be  knocked  on  the  head;"  and  Godfrey's  sus- 
picion of  his  own  danger  was  confirmed  by  evidence 
before  the  House  of  Commons.  .  Coleman,  though  crimi- 
nated by  Oates's  statements,  was  a  personal  friend  of 
Godfrey,  and  warned  by  him  in  consequence  of  the 
danger  to  which  he  was  exposed. 

About  a  fortnight  afterwards,  on  Saturday,  October 
12,  Godfrey  was  missing  from  his  house  in  Green's 
Lane,  in  the  Strand,  near  Hungerford  Market,  where 
he  was  a  wood-merchant,  his  wood-wharf  being  at  the 
end  of  what  is  now  Northumberland  Street.  Nor  could 
the  most  sedulous  search  obtain  any  other  tidings  of 
Godfrey  for  some  days,  but  that  he  was  seen  near  St 
Clement's  Church,  in  the  Strand,  on  the  day  above 
mentioned  ;  he  left  home  at  nine  in  the  morning.  Shortly 
after  this,  he  was  seen  in  Marylebonc,  and  at  noon  of 
the  same  day  had  an  interview  on  business  with  one  of 
the  churchwardens  of  St  Martin's-in-the-Fields.  From 
this  time  Godfrey  was  never  seen  again  alive;  nor  was 


126  Roma)ice  of  Lojidou. 

any  message  received  by  his  servants  at  home.  Sunday 
came,  and  no  tidings  of  him  ;  Monday,  Tuesday,  Wed- 
nesday, and  Thursday  followed  with  the  like  result.  At 
six  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  last-mentioned  day, 
the  17th,  as  two  men  were  crossing  a  field  on  the  south 
side  of  Primrose  Hill,  they  observed  a  sword-belt,  stick, 
and  a  pair  of  gloves,  lying  on  the  side  of  the  hedge :  they 
paid  no  attention  to  them  at  the  time,  and  walked  on  to 
Chalk  Farm,  then  called  at  the  White  House,  where 
they  mentioned  to  the  master  what  they  had  seen,  and 
he  accompanied  them  to  the  spot  where  the  articles  lay  ; 
one  of  the  men,  stooping  down,  looked  into  the  adjoin- 
ing ditch,  and  there  saw  the  body  of  a  man  lying  on 
his  face.  It  was  Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey:  "his 
sword  was  thrust  through  him,  but  no  blood  was  on 
his  clothes,  or  about  him ;  his  shoes  were  clean  ;  his 
money  was  in  his  pocket,  but  nothing  was  about  his 
neck  [although  when  he  went  from  home,  he  had  a 
large  laced  band  on],  and  a  mark  was  all  round  it,  an 
inch  broad,  which  showed  he  had  been  strangled.  His 
breast  was  likewise  all  over  marked  with  bruises,  and 
his  neck  was  broken  :  and  it  was  visible  he  was  first 
strangled,  then  carried  to  that  place,  where  his  sword 
was  run  through  his  dead  body."  He  was  conveyed  to 
the  White  House,  and  information  sent  to  the  authorities. 
A  jury  was  impannelled,  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of 
death ;  the  evidence  of  two  surgeons  showed  that  God- 
frey's death  must  have  been  occasioned  by  strangulation, 
and  his  body  then  pierced  with  the  sword,  which  had 
been  left  sticking  in  the  wound.  The  ditch  was  dry, 
and  there  were  no  marks  of  blood  in  it,  and  his  shoes 
were  perfectly  clean,  as  if,  after  being  assassinated,  he 
had  been  carried  and  deposited  in  the  place  where  he 


Murder  of  Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey.  127 

■was  found.  A  large  sum  of  money  and  a  diamond  ring- 
were  found  in  his  pockets,  but  his  pocket-book,  in  which, 
as  a  magistrate,  he  used  to  take  notes  of  examina- 
tions, was  missing.  Spots  of  white  wax,  an  article  which 
he  never  used  himself,  and  which  was  only  employed 
by  persons  of  distinction,  and  by  priests,  were  scattered 
over  his  clothes  ;  and  from  this  circumstance  persons 
were  led  to  conclude  that  the  Roman  Catholics  were  the 
authors  of  his  death. 

This  full  confirmation  of  the  suspicions  of  the  public — 
that  Sir  Edmund  Berry  was  murdered  had  been  the 
general  discourse  long  before  any  proof  appeared — was 
regarded  as  a  direct  testimony  of  the  existence  of  the 
Popish  Plot ;  warrants  were  signed  for  twenty-six  persons 
who  had  been  implicated  by  Oates,  and  who  surren- 
dered themselves,  and  were  committed  to  the  Tower. 

Still,  many  persons  were  fully  persuaded  that  the 
Popish  Plot  had  no  real  existence.  The  King  is  sup- 
posed to  have  disbelieved  it,  but  never  once  exercised 
his  prerogative  of  mercy  ;  it  is  said  he  dared  not ;  his 
throne,  perhaps  his  life,  was  at  stake  ;  and  in  the  popular 
ferment,  upon  evidence  incredible,  or  rather  impossible 
to  be  true,  innocent  men  were  condemned  to  death,  and 
executed.  "  Who  can  read,"  says  Mr  Fox,  "the  account 
of  that  savage  murmur  of  applause,  which  broke  out 
upon  one  of  the  villains  at  the  bar  swearing  positively 
to  Stafford's  having  proposed  the  murder  of  the  King  ? 
And  how  is  this  horror  deepened  when  we  reflect,  that 
in  that  odious  cry  were  probably  mingled  the  voices  of 
men  to  whose  memory  every  lover  of  the  English  con- 
stitution is  bound  to  pay  the  tribute  of  gratitude  and 
respect." 

From  White  House,  the  corpse  of  Godfrey  was  con- 


1 2  8  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

veyed  home,  and  embalmed,  and,  after  lying  in  state 
for  two  clays  at  Bridewell  Hospital,  was  carried  from 
thence,  with  great  solemnity,  to  St  Martin's  Church,  to 
be  interred.  The  pall  was  supported  by  eight  knights, 
all  Justices  of  the  Peace  ;  and  in  the  procession  were  all 
the  City  Aldermen,  together  with  seventy-two  clergymen, 
in  full  canonicals,  who  walked  in  couples  before  the  body, 
and  a  great  multitude  followed  after.  The  clergyman, 
who  preached  a  sermon  on  the  occasion,  was  supported 
on  each  side  by  a  brother  divine.  The  body  was  interred 
in  the  churchyard  ;  and  a  tablet  to  the  memory  of  Sir 
Edmund  Berry  was  erected  in  the  east  cloister  of  West- 
minster Abbey. 

As  yet,  however,  the  perpetrators  of  this  murder  had 
not  been  discovered,  though  a  reward  of  ^500  and  the 
King's  protection  had  been  offered  to  any  person  making 
the  disclosure ;  but,  within  a  few  days  afterwards,  one 
William  Bedloe,  who  had  once  been  servant  to  Lord 
Bellasis,  and  afterwards  an  ensign  in  the  Low  Countries, 
was  brought  to  London  from  Bristol,  where  he  had  been 
arrested  by  his  own  desire,  on  affirming  that  he  was 
acquainted  with  some  circumstances  relating  to  Godfrey's 
death.  He  stated  that  he  had  seen  the  murdered  body 
in  Somerset  House  (then  the  Queen's  residence),  and 
had  been  offered  a  large  sum  of  money  to  assist  in 
removing  it.  "  It  was  remembered  that  at  that  time  the 
Queen  was  for  some  days  in  so  close  a  confinement  that 
no  person  was  admitted.  Prince  Rupert  came  there  to 
wait  on  her,  but  was  denied  access.  This  raised  a  strong 
suspicion  of  her  ;  but  the  King  would  not  suffer  that 
matter  to  go  any  further."  {Burnet.)  Coleman,  who 
was  soon  afterwards  convicted  of  High  Treason,  when 
he  lay  in  Newgate,  confessed  that  he  had  spoken  of  the 


Murder  of  Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey.  129 

Duke  of  York's  designs  to  Godfrey;  "upon  which  the 
Duke  gave  orders  to  kill  him." 

Soon  after,  Miles  Prance,  a  goldsmith,  who  had  some- 
time wrought  in  the  Queen's  Chapel,  was  taken  up  on 
suspicion  of  having  been  concerned  in  the  death  of 
Godfrey ;  and  on  his  subsequent  confession  and  testi- 
mony, confirmed  by  Bedloe  and  others,  Green,  Hill, 
and  Berry,  all  in  subordinate  situations  at  Somerset 
House,  were  convicted  of  the  murder,  which  they  had 
effected  in  conjunction  with  two  Irish  Jesuits,  who  had 
absconded.  It  appeared  that  the  unfortunate  Magis- 
trate had  been  inveigled  into  Somerset  House,  at  the 
water  gate,  under  the  pretence  of  his  assistance  being 
wanted  to  allay  a  quarrel ;  and  that  he  was  immediately 
strangled  with  a  twisted  handkerchief,  after  which  Green, 
"  with  all  his  force,  wrung  his  neck  almost  round."  On 
the  fourth  night  after,  the  assassins  conveyed  his  body 
to  the  place  where  it  was  afterwards  discovered,  near 
Primrose  Hill,  and  there  one  of  the  Jesuits  ran  his  sword 
through  the  corpse,  in  the  manner  it  was  found.  Green, 
Berry,  and  Hill  were  executed ;  each  of  them  affirming 
his  innocence  to  the  very  last. 

This  horrible  event  is  commemorated  in  a  contem- 
porary medal  of  Sir  Edmund  Berry,  representing  him, 
on  the  obverse,  walking  with  a  broken  neck  and  a  sword 
in  his  body ;  and,  on  the  reverse,  St  Denis  bearing  his 
head  in  his  hand,  with  this  inscription : — 

Godfrey  walks  up-hill  after  he  was  dead, 
Denis  walks  down-hill  carrying  his  head. 

There  is,  also,  a  medal,  with  the  head  of  Godfrey 
being  strangled ;  and  the  body  being  carried  on  horse- 
back, with  Primrose  Hill  in  the  distance :  also  a  large 

vol.  1.  i 


130  Romance  of  London. 

medallion,  with  the  Pope  and  the  Devil ;  the  strangu- 
lation by  two  Jesuits ;  Godfrey  borne  in  a  sedan  ;  and 
the  body,  with  the  sword  through  it. 


Col.  Blood's  Attack  upon  the  Great  Duke 
of  Ornwnd,  in  St  y antes  s  Street. 

The  adventures  of  the  notorious  Colonel  Thomas 
Blood,  form  one  of  the  most  curious  and  entertaining 
chapters  in  the  strange  history  of  the  period  in  which  he 
lived.  This  extraordinary  man  appears  to  have  been 
of  respectable  family,  and  was  at  one  time  in  the  com- 
mission of  the  peace.  In  1663,  the  Act  of  Settlement 
in  Ireland,  and  the  consequent  proceedings,  having 
seriously  affected  his  fortunes,  he  from  that  time  nour- 
ished an  inveterate  animosity  to  the  Duke  of  Ormond, 
then  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  whom  he  considered 
as  the  originator  of  the  measures  from  which  he  suffered. 
To  revenge  himself  upon  the  Duke,  he  entered  into  a 
conspiracy  with  a  number  of  other  malcontents  for 
exciting  a  general  insurrection,  and,  as  a  preliminary 
step,  for  the  surprisal  of  the  Castle  of  Dublin.  The 
plot  was  discovered,  and  some  of  the  conspirators 
apprehended  about  twelve  hours  before  the  appointed 
time  for  its  execution.  Blood,  however,  escaped,  and 
lived  to  make  a  more  desperate  attempt  upon  his 
old  enemy,  the  great  Duke,  in  the  public  streets  of 
London.  His  object  in  this  daring  undertaking  has 
been  variously  interpreted.  By  some  it  is  conceived  to 
have  been  the  extortion  of  advantages  by  the  deten- 
tion of  the  Duke ;  by  others  he  is  supposed  to  have 
been  actuated  by  a  deep  feeling  of  revenge,  which  he 


Blood's  A  ttack  on  the  Duke  of  Ormond.  131 

determined  to  gratify  by  hanging  the  Duke  at  Tyburn  ! 
Whatever  his  purpose,  it  is  plain,  from  Carte's  account 
of  this  incredible  outrage,  that  he  was  within  an  ace  of 
accomplishing  it : — 

"The  Prince  of  Orange  came  this  year  (1670)  into 
England,  and  being  invited,  on  December  6,  to  an 
entertainment  in  the  city  of  London,  his  Grace  at- 
tended him  thither.  As  he  was  returning  homewards 
on  a  dark  night,  and  going  up  St  James's  Street,  at 
the  end  of  which,  facing  the  Palace,  stood  Clarendon 
House,  where  he  then  lived,  he  was  attacked  by  Blood 
and  five  of  his  accomplices.  The  Duke  always  used  to 
go  attended  with  six  footmen These  six  foot- 
men used  to  walk  three  on  each  side  of  the  street,  over 
against  the  coach ;  but,  by  some  contrivance  or  other, 
they  were  all  stopped,  and  out  of  the  way  when  the 
Duke  was  taken  out  of  his  coach  by  Blood  and  his  son, 
and  mounted  on  horseback  behind  one  of  the  horsemen 
in  his  company.  The  coachman  drove  on  to  Clarendon 
House,  and  told  the  porter  that  the  Duke  had  been 
seized  by  two  men  who  had  carried  him  down  Pic- 
cadilly. The  porter  immediately  ran  that  way,  and 
Mr  James  Clarke,  chancing  to  be  at  that  time  in  the 
court  of  the  house,  followed  with  all  possible  haste, 
having  first  alarmed  the  family,  and  ordered  the  ser- 
vants to  come  after  him  as  fast  as  they  could.  Blood, 
it  seems,  either  to  gratify  the  humour  of  his  patron, 
who  had  set  him  upon  this  work,  or  to  glut  his  own 
revenge  by  putting  his  Grace  to  the  same  ignominious 
death  which  his  accomplices  in  the  treasonable  design 
upon  Dublin  Castle  had  suffered,  had  taken  a  strong 
fancy  into  his  head  to  hang  the  Duke  at  Tyburn. 

"Nothing  could  have  saved  his  Grace's  life  but  that 


132  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

extravagant  imagination  and  passion  of  the  villain, 
who,  leaving  the  Duke,  mounted  and  buckled,  to  one 
of  his  comrades,  rode  on  before,  and  (as  is  said)  ac- 
tually tied  a  rope  to  the  gallows,  and  then  rode  back  to 
see  what  was  become  of  his  accomplices,  whom  he  met 
riding  off  in  a  great  hurry.  The  horseman  to  whom 
the  Duke  was  tied  was  a  person  of  great  strength ;  but, 
being  embarrassed  by  his  Grace's  struggling,  could  not 
advance  as  fast  .as  he  desired.  He  was,  however,  got  a 
good  way  beyond  Berkeley  (now  Devonshire)  House, 
towards  Knightsbridge,  when  the  Duke,  having  got  his 
foot  under  the  man's,  unhorsed  him,  and  they  both  fell 
down  together  in  the  mud,  where  they  were  struggling 
when  the  porter  and  Mr  Clarke  came  up.  .  .  .  .The 
King,  when  he  heard  of  this  intended  assassination  of 
the  Duke  of  Ormond,  expressed  a  great  resentment 
on  that  occasion,  and  issued  out  a  proclamation  for  the 
discovery  and  apprehension  of  the  miscreants  concerned 
in  the  attempt." 

The  Heroic  Lady  Fanshawe. 

In  Portugal  Row,  the  south  side  of  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields, 
sometime  lived,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  Sir  Richard 
Fanshawe,  an  accomplished  person,  a  scholar,  and  "  in 
whose  quaint  translation  of  the  Camoens,"  says  Leigh 
Hunt,  "there  is  occasionally  more  genuine  poetry  than 
in  the  less  unequal  version  of  Mickle."  He  was  recalled 
from  an  embassy  in  Spain  for  having  signed  a  treaty 
without  authority ;  but  his  wife  suspected  him  to  have 
been  sacrificed  to  make  way  for  Lord  Sandwich,  as  his 
successor.  Lady  Fanshawe  was  a  very  frank  and  cordial 
woman,  and  wrote  an  interesting  memoir  of  her  husband, 


TJie  Heroic  Lady  Fanshawe.  133 

who  died  on  the  intended  day  of  his  return  to  England, 
of  a  violent  fever,  not  improbably  caused  by  this 
awkward  close  of  his  mission.  Lady  Fanshawe  was 
also  a  courageous  woman.  During  a  former  voyage 
with  her  husband  to  Spain,  the  vessel  was  attacked  by 
a  Turkish  galley,  well  manned ;  and  she  writes,  "  We 
believed  we  should  be  all  carried  away  slaves,  for  this 
man  had  so  laden  his  ship  with  goods  from  Spain,  that 
his  guns  were  useless,  though  the  ship  carried  sixty 
guns ;  he  called  for  brandy,  and  after  he  had  well 
drunken,  and  all  his  men,  which  were  near  two  hundred, 
he  called  for  arms,  and  cleared  the  deck  as  well  as  he 
could,  resolving  to  fight  rather  than  lose  his  ship,  which 
was  worth  thirty  thousand  pounds  ;  this  was  sad  for  us 
passengers,  but  my  husband  bid  us  be  sure  to  keep  in 
the  cabin,  and  not  appear — the  women — which  would 
make  the  Turks  think  we  were  a  man-of-war,  but  if 
they  saw  women  they  would  take  us  for  merchants  and 
board  us.  He  went  upon  the  deck,  and  took  a  gun  and 
bandoliers,  and  sword,  and,  with  the  rest  of  the  ship's 
company,  stood  upon  deck,  expecting  the  arrival  of  the 
Turkish  man-of-war.  This  beast,  the  captain,  had 
locked  me  up  in  the  cabin  ;  I  knocked  and  called  long 
to  no  purpose,  until  at  length  the  cabin-boy  came  and 
opened  the  door;  I,  all  in  tears,  desired  him  to  be  so 
good  as  to  give  me  his  blue  thrum  cap  he  wore,  and  his 
tarred  coat,  which  he  did,  and  I  gave  him  half-a-crown, 
and  putting  them  on,  and  flinging  away  my  night-clothes, 
I  crept  up  softly,  and  stood  upon  the  deck  by  my 
husband's  side,  as  free  from  sickness  and  fear,  as,  I 
confess,  from  discretion ;  but  it  was  the  effect  of  that 
passion  which  I  could  never  master."  However,  after 
some  parley,  the  Turk's  man-of-war  tacked  about,  and 


1 34  Romance  of  London. 

the  other  continued  its  course.  But,  when  Sir  Richard 
Fanshawe  saw  it  convenient  to  retreat,  looking  upon  his 
wife,  he  blessed  himself,  and  snatched  her  up  in  his  arms, 
saying,  "Good  God,  that  love  can  make  this  change!" 
and  though  he  seemingly  chid  her,  he  would  laugh  at  it 
as  often  as  he  remembered  that  voyage. 

On  Lady  Fanshawe's  return  to  England,  she  took  a 
house  in  Holborn  Row  (the  north  side  of  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields),  where  she  must  have  looked  upon  the  houses 
opposite  with  many  a  pang  of  grief.  She  returned  in 
a  sea  of  troubles,  which  she  bore  with  submission  to 
the  Divine  will.  "  I  had  not,"  she  writes,  "  God  is  my 
witness,  above  twenty-five  doubloons  by  me  at  my 
husband's  death,  to  bring  home  a  family  of  threescore 
servants,  but  was  forced  to  sell  one  thousand  pounds' 
worth  of  our  own  plate,  and  to  spend  the  Queen's  present 
of  two  thousand  doubloons  in  my  journey  to  England, 
not  owing  nor  leaving  one  shilling  debt  in  Spain,  I 
thank  God;  nor  did  my  husband  leave  any. debt  at  home, 
which  every  ambassador  cannot  say.  Neither  did  these 
circumstances  following  prevail  to  mend  my  condition  ; 
much  less  found  I  that  compassion  I  expected  upon 
the  view  of  myself,  that  had  lost  at  once  my  husband, 
and  fortune  in  him  ;  with  my  son,  but  twelve  months 
old,  in  my  arms  ;  four  daughters,  the  eldest  but  thirteen 
years  of  age  ;  with  the  body  of  my  dear  husband  daily 
in  my  sight  for  near  six  months  together,  and  a  dis- 
tressed family,  all  to  be  by  me  in  honour  and  honesty 
provided  for ;  and,  to  add  to  my  afflictions,  neither 
persons  sent  to  conduct  me,  nor  pass,  nor  ship,  nor 
money  to  carry  me  one  thousand  miles,  but  some  few 
letters  of  compliment  from  the  chief  ministers,  bidding 
'  God   help    me ! '    as   they   do   to   beggars,   and    they 


CrotmvelVs  Skull.  135 

might  have  added,  '  they  had  nothing  for  me,'  with 
great  truth.  But  God  did  hear,  and  see,  and  help 
me,  and  brought  my  soul  out  of  trouble  ;  and,  by  His 
blessed  providence,  I  and  you  live,  move,  and  have  our 
being,  and  I  humbly  pray  God  that  blessed  providence 
may  ever  relieve  our  wants.     Amen." 


Cromwell 's  Skull, 

There  is  said  to  be  a  skull,  maintained,  by  statements 
of  considerable  weight,  to  be  the  veritable  skull  of  the 
Protector,  carefully  kept  in  the  hands  of  some  person 
in  London — in  great  secrecy,  it  is  added,  from  the 
apprehension  that  a  threat  intimated  in  the  reign  of 
George  III.,  that,  if  made  public,  it  would  be  seized  by 
the  Government,  as  the  only  party  to  which  it  would 
properly  belong.  The  execution  of  such  a  threat,  it 
need  scarcely  be  added,  is  not  now  probable,  whatever 
may  have  been  former  apprehensions. 

The  identity  of  the  skull  of  Cromwell  may,  however, 
be  much  disputed  ;  Mr  W.  A.  Wilkinson,  of  Beckenham, 
Kent,  is  said  to  possess  the  skull,  with  arguments  on 
which  the  genuineness  of  the  relic  is  proved. 

In  the  Morning  Chronicle,  March  18th,  1799,  we 
read — "  The  Real  Embalmed  Head  of  the  powerful  and 
renowned  Usurper,  Oliver  Cromwell ;  with  the  Original 
Dies  for  the  Medals  struck  in  honour  of  his  Victory  at 
Dunbar,  &c,  are  now  exhibited  at  No.  5,  in  Mead 
Court,  Old  Bond  Street  (where  the  Rattlesnake  was 
shown  last  year)  :  a  genuine  Narrative  relating  to  the 
Acquisition,  Concealment,  and  Preservation  of  these 
Articles,  to  be  had  at  the  place  of  Exhibition." 

The   following  is  found   in   the   Additional  MS.  in 


136  Romance  of  L ondon. 

the  British  Museum,  and  is  dated  April  21,  1813; 
"  The  head  of  Oliver  Cromwell  (and,  it  is  believed,  the 
genuine  one)  has  been  brought  forth  in  the  City,  and 
is  exhibited  as  a  favour  to  such  curious  persons  as  the 
proprietor  chooses  to  oblige.  An  offer  was  made  this 
morning  to  bring  it  to  Soho  Square,  to  show  it  to  Sir 
Joseph  Banks,  but  he  desired  to  be  excused  from 
seeing  the  remains  of  the  old  Villainous  Republican, 
the  mention  of  whose  very  name  makes  his  blood  boil 
with  indignation.  The  same  offer  was  made  to  Sir 
Joseph  forty  years  ago,  which  he  then  also  refused. 
The  history  of  this  head  is  as  follows  : — Cromwell  was 
buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  with  all  the  state  of 
solemn  ceremony  belonging  to  Royalty ;  at  the  Re- 
storation, however,  his  body,  and  those  of  some  of  his 
associates,  were  dug  up,  suspended  on  Tyburn  gallows 
for  a  whole  day,  and  then  buried  under  them ;  the 
head  of  the  Arch  Rebel,  however,  was  reserved,  and 
a  spike  having  been  driven  through  it,  it  was  fixed  at 
the  top  of  Westminster  Hall,  where  it  remained  till 
the  great  tempest  at  the  beginning  of  the  18th  century 
(1703),  which  blew  it  down,  and  it  disappeared,  having 
probably  been  picked  up  by  some  passenger.  The 
head  in  question  has  been  the  property  of  the  family 
to  which  it  belongs  for  many  years  back,  and  is  con- 
sidered by  the  proprietor  as  a  relic  of  great  value  ;  it  has 
several  times  been  transferred  by  legacy  to  different 
branches  of  the  family,  and  has  lately,  it  is  said,  been 
inherited  by  a  young  lady. 

"  The  proofs  of  its  authenticity  are  as  follows : — 
It  has  evidently  been  embalmed,  and  it  is  not  probable 
that  any  other  head  in  this  island  has,  after  being 
embalmed,  been  spiked    and   stuck   up,  as   that  of  a 


A  Story  of  Middle  Temple  Gate.  137 

traitor.  The  iron  spike  that  passed  through  it  is  worn 
in  the  part  above  the  crown  of  the  head  almost  as  thin 
as  a  bodkin,  by  having  been  subjected  to  the  variations 
of  the  weather;  but  the  part  within  the  skull  which  is 
protected  by  its  situation,  is  not  much  corroded ;  the 
woodwork,  part  of  which  remains,  is  so  much  worm- 
eaten,  that  it  cannot  be  touched  without  crumbling ; 
the  countenance  has  been  compared  by  Mr  Flaxman, 
the  statuary,  with  a  plaster  cast  of  Oliver's  face  taken 
after  his  death,  of  which  there  are  several  in  London, 
and  he  declares  the  features  are  perfectly  similar." 

Mark  Noble  (whose  authority  is  questionable)  tells 
us  that  all  the  three  heads  (Cromwell's,  Ireton's,  and 
Bradshaw's)  were  fixed  upon  Westminster  Hall ;  and 
he  adds  that  Cromwell's  and  Bradshaw's  were  still  there 
in  1684,  when  Sir  Thomas  Armstrong's  head  was  placed 
between  them. 


A  Story  of  Middle  Temple  Gate. 

THE  original  gate-house  of  the  Middle  Temple  (rebuilt 
by  Wren,  as  we  now  see  it,  in  1684)  has  a  somewhat 
strange  history. 

Collins,  in  his  Peerage,  relates  that  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VI L,  when  Cardinal  Wolsey  was  only  a  school- 
master at  Lymington,  in  Somersetshire,  Sir  Amias 
Paulett,  for  some  misdemeanour  committed  by  him, 
clapped  him  in  the  stocks  ;  which  the  Cardinal,  when 
he  grew  into  favour  with  Henry  VIII.,  so  far  resented, 
that  he  sought  all  manner  of  ways  to  give  him  trouble, 
and  obliged  him  to  dance  attendance  at  London  for 
some  years,  and  by  all  manner  of  obsequiousness,  to 
curry  favour  with  him.     During  the  time  of  his  attend- 


138  Romance  of  London. 

ance,  being  commanded  by  the  Cardinal  not  to  depart 
London  without  license,  he  took  up  his  lodgings  at  the 
great  gate  of  the  Temple  towards  Fleet  Street.  Caven- 
dish states  that  Sir  Amias,  while  prisoner  here,  "  had 
re-edified  the  [gate-house]  very  sumptuously,  garnishing 
the  same  on  the  outside  thereof,  with  Cardinals'  hats 
and  arms,  and  divers  other  devices,  in  so  glorious  a  sort, 
that  he  thought  thereby  to  have  appeased  his  old  unkind 
displeasure."  By  others  it  is  said  to  have  been  Sir 
Amias's  resentment.  However,  Wolsey  was  too  politic 
to  regard  the  matter  in  either  of  the  above  lights ;  for, 
in  a  commonplace  book  of  Sir  Roger  Wilbraham,  who 
was  Master  of  the  Requests  in  the  time  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  we  read  that  the  Cardinal,  passing  through 
Fleet  Street  in  pontificalibus,  and  spying  his  own  arms, 
asked  who  set  them  up.  The  answer  was,  Sir  Anthony 
Pagett.  [This  must  be  Sir  Amias's  act.]  Wolsey 
smiled,  saying,  "  He  is  now  well  reclaimed  ;  for  where 
before  he  saw  him  in  disgrace,  now  he  honoured  him." 

Aubrey  states  that  Wolsey  laid  a  fine  upon  Sir  Amias 
to  build  the  gate  ;  and  that  in  1680,  the  arms  of  Paulett 
were  then  in  glass  there.  "  The  Cardinall's  amies  were, 
as  the  storie  sayes,  on  the  outside  in  stone,  but  time  has 
long  since  defaced  that,  only  you  may  still  discerne  the 
place  ;  it  was  carv'd  in  a  very  mouldering  stone."  [See 
Choice  Notes  from  Notes  and  Queries) 

We  may  here  note  an  interesting  fact,  gracefully 
related  by  Leigh  Hunt,  in  The  Town.  "  It  is  curious  to 
observe  the  links  between  ancient  names  and  their 
modern  representatives,  and  the  extraordinary  contrast 
sometimes  exhibited  between  the  two.  The  'Judge,' 
who  by  Henry's  orders  went  to  turn  Wolsey  out  of  his 
house,  without  any  other  form  of  law — a  proceeding 


The  Story  of  Nell  Gwynne.  1 39 

which  excited  even  the  fallen  slave  to  a  remonstrance 
— was  named  Shelley,  and  was  one  of  the  ancestors  of 
the  Poet !  the  most  independent-minded  and  generous 
of  men." 

The  Story  of  Nell  Gwynne. 

The  "pretty  witty  Nell"  was  born  on  Feb.  6,  1650,  in 
the  Coal  Yard,  Drury  Lane,  the  last  turning  on  the 
east  side,  as  you  walk  towards  St  Giles's.  The  horo- 
scope of  her  nativity,  the  work  perhaps  of  Lilly,  is  to 
be  seen  among  Ashmole's  papers,  in  the  Museum  at 
Oxford.  It  shows  what  stars  were  supposed  to  be  in 
the  ascendant  at  the  time.  Her  father,  it  is  said, 
was  Captain  Thomas  Gwynne,  of  an  ancient  family  in 
Wales.  Other  accounts  state  that  her  father  was  a 
fruiterer  in  Covent  Garden.  Her  mother,  who  lived 
to  see  her  daughter  the  favourite  of  the  King,  was 
accidentally  drowned  in  a  pond  near  the  Neat  Houses 
at  Chelsea.  Her  early  calling  was  to  be  sent  dressed 
as  an  orange-girl,  to  sell  fruit  and  attract  attention 
at  the  theatres,  as  we  gather  from  a  poem  of  the  time> 
attributed  to  Lord  Rochester : — 

But  first  the  basket  her  fair  arm  did  suit, 
Laden  with  pippins  and  Hesperian  fruit ; 
This  first  step  raised,  to  the  wondering  pit  she  sold 
The  lovely  fruit  smiling  with  streaks  of  gold. 

Nell  was  now  an  orange-girl,  holding  her  basket  of  fruit 
covered  with  vine-leaves  in  the  pit  of  the  King's  Theatre, 
and  taking  her  stand  with  her  fellow  fruit-women  in  the 
front  row  of  the  pit,  with  her  back  to  the  stage  ;  and 
the  cry  of  "  Oranges  !  will  you  have  any  oranges  ?" 
She  was  ten  years  old  at  the  Restoration  of  Charles  II., 


140  Romance  of  London. 

in  1660.  The  theatres  were  reopened  ;  women  came  on 
the  stage,  and  the  King  and  Queen,  the  Dukes  of  York 
and  Buckingham,  the  chief  courtiers,  and  the  maids 
of  honour,  were  among  the  constant  frequenters  of  the 
public  playhouses.  The  King's  Theatre  stood  in  Drury 
Lane,  on  the  site  of  the  present  building :  it  was  first 
opened  April  8,  1663,  when  Nell  was  a  girl  of  thirteen. 
Our  earliest  introduction  to  her  we  owe  to  Pepys,  the 
diarist,  who  sat  next  to  her  at  the  King's  House,  when 
s~he  was  sixteen,  and  was  fascinated  with  her  foot, 
described  as  the  least  of  any  woman's  in  England.  But 
she  was  first  lifted  from  humble  life  by  a  young  merchant 
who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  her  smart  wit,  fine  shape/ and 
the  smallness  of  her  feet ;  she  remembered  him  in  after 
life,  and  to  her  interest  he  owed  his  appointment  in  the 
Guards.  Nell  soon  became  an  actress,  noted  for  her 
beauty  and  her  merry  laugh ;  her  first  part  was  Lady 
Wealthy,  in  the  comedy  of  The  English  Monsieur,  a 
"mighty  pretty  play,"  in  which  the  women  did  very 
well ;  "  but,  above  all,  little  Nelly."  She  succeeded  so 
as  to  represent  prominent  parts  in  stock  plays :  one  cf 
her  successes  was  Celia,  in  the  Humorous  Lieutenant 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher ;  after  this  performance,  at 
which  Pepys  was  present,  he  says,  Mrs  Knep  "  brought 
to  us  Nelly,  a  most  pretty  woman,  who  acted  the  great 
part  of  Celia  to-day  very  fine,  and  did  it  pretty  well. 
I  kissed  her,  and  so  did  my  wife,  and  a  mighty  pretty 
soul  she  is  : "  he  sums  up  with  "  specially  kissing  of 
Nell."  But  her  greatest  part  was  the  "  comical " 
Florimel,  in  Dry  den's  Secret  Love,  or  the  Maiden  Queen, 
to  Hart's  Celadon ;  the  incidents  and  allusions  carrying 
a  personal  application  to  the  mistress  and  gallant. 
Nelly  was  now  living  in  the  fashionable  part  of  Drury 


The  Story  of  Nell  Gwy nne.  141 

Lane,  the  Strand  end,  near  the  lodgings  of  Lacy,  the 
actor,  at  the  top  of  Maypole  Alley,  and  over  against  the 
gate  of  Craven  House  ;  at  the  bottom  of  the  alley  was 
the  far-famed  Strand  Maypole,  upon  the  site  of  which 
is  the  Church  of  St  Mary-le-Strand  ;  the  alley  is  now 
Drury  Court.  Pepys  describes  pretty  Nelly  standing 
at  her  lodgings'  door  in  her  smock-sleeves  and  bodice, 
looking  at  "  merry  milkmaids  with  garlands  upon  their 
pails,  dancing  with  a  fiddle  before  them." 

Nelly  next  lived  with  Lord  Buckhurst,  keeping 
"  merry  house  "  at  Epsom  : — 

All  hearts  fall  a-leaping  wherever  she  comes, 

And  beat  night  and  day  like  my  Lord  Craven's  drums. 

Nell  was  soon  left  by  Buckhurst.  Hart,  her  great 
admirer,  hated  her]  and  she  grew  very  poor,  and 
resumed  her  old  parts  at  Drury  Lane.  On  the  19th 
October  1667,  the  Earl  of  Orrery's  Black  Prince  was 
produced  at  the  King's  House,  Nelly  playing  Alizia, 
or  Alice  Piers,  the  mistress  of  Edward  III. ;  the  King 
was  present,  and  was  so  charmed  with  her  beauty 
and  wit,  that  it  was  soon  reported  that  "  the  King  had 
sent  for  Nelly;"  and  it  proved  true.  She  was  often 
at  Whitehall,  but  still  attended  to  her  theatrical  en- 
gagements; but  Dryden's  Conquest  of  Granada,  in 
which  Nelly  had  a  part,  was  postponed  for  a  season, 
through  her  being  near  giving  birth  to  the  future  Duke 
of  St  Albans,  and  being  therefore  unable  to  appear. 
When  the  play  was  produced,  with  Nelly  as  Almahide, 
in  her  broad-brimmed  hat  and  waist-belt,  Charles 
became  more  than  ever  enamoured  : 

There  Hart's  and  Rowley's  souls  she  did  ensnare, 
And  made  a  king  a  rival  to  a  player. 


1 42  Romance  of  London. 

At  the  birth  of  Charles  Beauclerk,  Nelly  was  living 
in  apartments  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  soon  after  which 
she  removed  to  a  house  at  the  east  end  of  the  north 
side  of  Pall  Mall ;  and  next  year  to  a  house  on  the 
south  side,  with  a  garden  towards  St  James's  Park, 
which  was  at  first  conveyed  to  her  by  the  King  on 
lease,  but  subsequently  free  to  Nell  and  her  repre- 
sentatives for  ever ;  the  site  is  now  occupied  by  No.  79. 
Nelly  was  now  called  "  Madame  Gwin,"  and  the  King's 
amours  being  freely  talked  of  in  Parliament,  led  to 
Sir  John  Coventry  being  waylaid,  and  his  nose  cut  to 
the  bone,  that  he  might  remember  the  offence  he  had 
given  to  his  sovereign. 

Evelyn  records  a  walk  made  on  the  2nd  of  March 
167 1,  in  which  he  attended  Charles  through  St 
James's  Park,  where  he  both  saw  and  heard  "  a  familiar 
discourse  between  the  King  and  Mrs  Nelly,  as  they 
called  an  impudent  comedian,  she  looking  out  of 
her  garden  on  a  terrace  at  the  top  of  the  wall,  the 
King  standing  on  the  green  walk  under  it."  The 
garden  was  attached  to  her  house  in  Pall  Mall  ;  and 
the  ground  on  which  Nelly  stood  was  a  mount  or  raised 
terrace,  of  which  a  portion  may  still  be  seen  under  the 
Park-wall  of  Marlborough  House.  Of  this  scene  Mr 
Ward  has  painted  a  picture  of  surprising  truthfulness 
and  beauty*  Among  Madame  Gwynne's  Papers  (Bills 
sent  to  Nelly  for  payment),  there  is  a  charge  for  this 
very  mount.  There  is  no  reason  to  suspect  Nelly 
unfaithful  to  the  King,  or  that  Charles  did  not  appre- 
ciate her  fidelity  :  the  people  rejoiced  at  their  sovereign's 
loose  life,  and  Nelly  became  the  idol  of  the  town,  and 

*  Engraved   as  the   frontispiece  to  Mr  Peter  Cunningham's  piquant 
Story  of  Nell  Gwynne,  from  which  this  paper  is,  in  the  main,  abridged. 


The  Story  of  Nell  Gwynne.  143 

known  as  "the  Protestant  Mistress."  Her  Popish 
rival,  the  Duchess  of  Portsmouth,  was  very  hard  upon 
Nell  when  she  said,  "  Anybody  may  know  she  has  been 
an  orange-wench  by  her  swearing." 

Nell  Gwynne  was  delivered,  25th  December  1671,  of 
a  second  child  by  the  King,  who  was  called  James  in 
compliment  to  the  Duke  of  York  :  the  boy  thrived,  and 
became,  as  his  brother  still  continued,  a  favourite  with 
his  father.  On  December  27,  1676,  the  King  created 
his  eldest  son  Baron  of  Headington  and  Earl  of 
Burford.  The  mother's  house  at  Windsor  was  named 
Burford  House,  and  the  King  had  its  staircases  painted 
by  Verrio ;  and  this  was  the  rendezvous  of  all  who 
wished  to  stand  well  at  the  Castle. 

Nell  did  not  forget  her  aged  mother,  who  resided 
at  one  time  with  her  in  Pall  Mall ;  for  in  an  apothe- 
cary's bill,  accidentally  discovered  among  the  Ex- 
chequer papers,  are  charges  for  cordial  jelups  with 
pearls  for  "  Master  Charles,"  and  a  cordial  for  "  old 
Mrs  Gwynne."  Other  bills  (1674-6)  include  charges 
for  a  French  coach,  and  for  a  great  cipher  from  the 
chariot  painter  ;  for  a  bedstead,  with  silver  ornaments  ; 
for  side  boxes  at  the  Duke's  Theatre,  to  which  she 
never  went  alone,  but  often  with  as  many  as  four 
persons,  Nell  paying  for  all ;  for  great  looking-glasses  ; 
for  cleansing  and  burnishing  the  warming-pan ;  for 
the  hire  of  sedan-chairs;  for  dress,  furniture,  and 
table  expenses;  for  white  satin  petticoats  and  white 
and  red  satin  night-gowns ;  for  kilderkins  of  strong 
ale,  ordinary  ale,  and  "a  barrel  of  eights;"  for  alms 
to  poor  men  and  women ;  for  oats  and  beans,  and 
"  chancy "  oranges  at  threepence  each ;  "  for  a  fine 
landskip   fan ; "   for  scarlet   satin    shoes   covered  with 


144  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

silver  lace,  and   a  pair  of  satin  shoes  laced  over  with 
gold  for  "  Master  Charles." 

The  idea  of  founding  a  Royal  Hospital  at  Chelsea 
for  aged  and  disabled  soldiers,  is  said   to  have  origi- 
nated with  Nelly ;  the  first  stone  was  laid  by  the  King 
in    1682.      Nelly's    benevolence    and    sympathy   with 
the  suffering  strengthen  the  evidence  of  the  tradition 
as  to  the  foundation  ;  and  some  sixty  years  ago  her 
portrait  served  as  the  sign  of  a  public-house  adjoining 
the    Hospital;    the   tradition   is   still   rife   in    Chelsea. 
Dedications    of    books,   at   this   period,   to    "Madame 
Eleanor     Gwynne,"    though     adulatory,   bespeak     her 
popularity.     In   1680,  died  her   second   and   youngest 
son,  James;   and   in    1684,  the   boy   Earl   of  Burford 
was  created  Duke    of  St   Albans,  and   appointed   to 
the   then   lucrative   offices   of  Registrar   of    the   High 
Court  of.  Chancery  and  Master  Falconer  of  England. 
The  latter  office  is  still  enjoyed  by  the  present  Duke 
of  St  Albans.     The   former  office,  the  Registrarship, 
was  lost  to  the  Duke  of  St  Albans  through  the  stern 
justice   of  Lord  Thurlow ;  for  the  patent  having  ex- 
pired during  his  Chancellorship,  his  Lordship  refused 
to  renew  it.     The  only  letter  of  Nelly's  composition 
known  to  exist,  relates  to  this  period  of  her  life.     It  is 
written  on  a  sheet  of  very  thin  gilt-edged  paper,  in  a 
neat  Italian  hand,  not  her  own,  from  Burford  House, 
"  for  Madam  Jennings  over  against  the  Tub  Tavern  in 
Jermyn  Street,  London." 

Charles  II.  ended  his  dissolute  life,  sensible  of  his 
sins,  and  seeking  forgiveness  from  his  Maker.  His 
dying  request,  made  to  his  brother  and  successor,  con- 
cluded with  "Let  not  poor  Nelly  starve."  While  her 
grief  was   still  fresh,    the    "gold    stuff"   grew  scarcer 


The  Story  of  Nell  Gwynne.  145 

than  ever;  and  if  not  actually  arrested  for  debt  in 
the  spring  of  1685,  she  was  certainly  outlawed  for  the 
non-payment  of  certain  bills,  for  which  some  of  her 
tradesmen,  since  the  death  of  the  King-,  had  become 
very  clamorous.  Her  resources  were  now  slender 
enough.  But,  the  new  King  had  not  forgotten  the 
dying  request  of  his  only  brother,  "  Let  not  poor  Nelly 
starve;"  and  the  secret  service  expenses  of  King 
James  show  a  payment  to  Richard  Graham,  Esq.,  of 
£729,  2s.  3^/.,  "to  be  by  him  paid  over  to  the  several 
tradesmen,  creditors  of  Mrs  Ellen  Gwynne,  in  satisfac- 
tion of  their  debts  for  which  the  said  Ellen  stood  out- 
lawed." In  the  same  year,  the  King  relieved  Nelly 
by  two  additional  payments  of  ^500  each  ;  and  two 
years  after,  made  a  settlement  of  property  upon  her, 
and  "after  her  death,  upon  the  Duke  of  St  Alban's 
and  his  issue  male,  with  the  reversion  in  the  Crown." 

Nelly  now  fell  sick.  Her  friend,  Dr  Tenison,  Vicar 
of  St  Martin's,  in  which  parish  Pall  Mall  is  situ- 
ated, attended  her.  She  made  her  will,  and  signed  it 
E.  G.  only :  she  could  not  sign  her  name.  She  died 
of  apoplexy  in  November  1687,  in  her  38th  year,  but 
the  exact  day  is  unknown  ;  she  is  said  to  have  died 
piously  and  penitently.  Her  father  is  said  to  have  died 
in  a  prison  at  Oxford ;  and  she  left  ^"20  yearly  for  the 
releasing  of  poor  debtors  out  of  prison,  every  Christ- 
mas-day.* 

On  the  night  of  the  17th  November  1687,  Nelly 
was  buried,  according  to  her  own  request,  in  the 
church  of  St  Martin's-in-the-Fields.      The  expenses  of 

*  In  a  Report  on  the  Poultry  Compter,  in  1S11,  it  is  mentioned  that 
the  prisoners  received  sixty-five  penny  loaves  every  eight  weeks,  the  gift 
of  Eleanor  Gwynne. 

Vol,.  1.  K 


146  Romance  of  London. 

her  funeral,  £375,  were  advanced  from  the  next  quar- 
ter's allowance  of  £1500  a-year  which  King  James 
had  settled  upon  her.  Dr  Tenison,  too,  complied  with 
her  request,  and  preached  her  funeral  sermon. 

King  James  continued  the  mother's  pension  to  her 
son,  and  gave  him  the  colonelcy  of  a  regiment  of 
horse :  he  distinguished  himself  at  the  siege  of  Bel- 
grade, became  in  after-life  a  Knight  of  the  Garter, 
and  died  father  of  eight  sons,  by  his  wife,  the  high- 
born and  wealthy  heiress,  Lady  Diana  de  Vere,  a 
beauty  in  the  Kneller  collection  at  Hampton  Court. 
The  title  still  exists — and  has  been  in  our  time  con- 
spicuously before  the  public  from  the  vast  wealth  of 
the  late  Harriet,  Duchess  of  St  Alban's,  widow  of 
Coutts,  the  banker,  but  originally  known,  and  favour- 
ably too,  upon  the  comic  boards.  "  Not  unlike,  in 
many  respects,  were  Eleanor  Gwynne  and  Harriet 
Mellon.  The  fathers  of  both  were  in  the  army,  and 
both  never  knew  what  it  was  to  have  a  father.  Both 
rose  by  the  stage — both  had  wealthy  admirers — and 
both  were  charitable  and  generous"  (Cunningham.) 

There  are  many  portraits  of  Nell  Gwynne,  yet  very 
few  genuine :  the  only  picture  in  the  Royal  collection 
is  a  too  grave  and  thoughtful  picture  at  Hampton 
Court.  The  Duke  of  Buccleuch  has  a  miniature  head 
by  Cooper,  of  which  it  is  said  the  Exchequer  papers 
record  the  price  paid  to  the  painter.  The  most  curious 
engraved  portrait  of  her  is  that  after  Gascar,  engraved 
abroad — it  is  thought  by  Masson — in  which  she  wears 
a  laced  chemise,  lying  on  a  bed  of  roses,  from  which  her 
two  children,  as  Cupids,  are  withdrawing  the  curtains — 
King  Charles  II.  in  the  distance :  she  wears  as  well 
the  famous  Rupert   necklace   of  pearls.     The  Burney 


Francis  Bacon  in  Grays  Inn.  147 

impression  of  this  print,  in  the  British  Museum,  cost 
£39,  iSs.  Among  the  relics  of  Nelly  are  a  warming- 
pan,  with  the  motto,  "  Fear  God,  and  serve  the  King;" 
and  a  looking-glass,  of  elegant  form,  and  carved  figure 
frame,  said  to  have  belonged  to  her. 

Douglas  Jerrold  wrote  a  well-constructed  comedy  of 
Nell  Gwynne,  or  the  Prologue,  attempting  to  show 
"  some  glimpses  of  the  silver  lining  of  a  character,  to 
whose  influence  over  an  unprincipled  voluptuary  we 
owe  a  national  asylum  for  veteran  soldiers,  and  whose 
brightness  shines  with  the  most  amiable  lustre  in  many 
actions  of  her  life,  and  in  the  last  disposal  of  her 
worldly  effects." 

Francis  Bacon  in  Grays  Inn. 

BACON'S  attachment  to  gardens  and  to  rural  affairs,  one 
almost  fancies  is  shown  even  in  the  speech  which  he 
made  before  the  nobility,  when,  first  taking  his  seat 
in  the  High  Court  of  Chancery,  he  hoped  "that  the 
brambles  that  grow  about  justice  might  be  rooted 
out;"  adding  that  "fresh  justice  was  the  sweetest." 
At  Gorhambury  you  see  the  old  fish-ponds  which  were 
Bacon's  favourite  haunt ;  though  the  summer-house 
which  he  built  in  the  orchard  (answering  to  the  diasta  or 
summer-room  of  the  younger  Pliny,  at  his  beloved  Lau- 
rentium)  has  long  disappeared,  and  the  mansion  itself 
has  shared  the  same  fate.  His  Essay,  "  Of  Gardens," 
written  in  1625,  gives  us  "particulars  for  the  climate  of 
London,"  where  he  loved  to  practise  the  tasteful  art. 
Gray's  Inn  gardens  were  laid  out  under  his  direction, 
as  attested  in  the  following  entries  : — 

"In    the  40  Eliz.,  at   a  pension   of  the  bench,  'the 


148  Romance  of  London. 

summe  of  £7,  i$s.  ^d.  laid  out  for  planting  elm  trees' 
in  these  gardens,  was  allowed  to  Mr  Bacon  (afterwards 
Lord  Verulam  and  Lord  Chancellor).  On  the  14th 
November,  in  the  following  year,  there  was  an  order 
made  for  a  supply  of  more  young  elms ;  and  it  was 
ordered  '  that  a  new  rayle  and  quickset  hedges '  should 
be  set  upon  the  upper  long  walk,  at  the  discretion  of 
Mr  Bacon  and  Mr  Wilbraham  ;  the  cost  of  which,  as 
appeared  by  Bacon's  account,  allowed  20th  April,  42 
Eliz.,  was  £60,  6s.  8d.  Mr  Bacon  erected  a  summer- 
house  on  a  small  mount  on  the  terrace,  in  which,  if  we 
may  be  allowed  to  conjecture,  it  is  probable  he  fre- 
quently mused  upon  the  subjects  of  those  great  works 
which  have  rendered  his  name  immortal." — Pearce's 
Inns  of  Co7irt. 

To  this  day  here  is  a  Catalpa  tree,  raised  from  one 
planted  by  Bacon,  slips  of  which  are  much  coveted. 
The  walks  were  in  high  fashion  in  Charles  II.'s  time  ; 
we  read  of  Pepys  and  his  wife,  after  church,  walking 
"  to  Gray's  Inne,  to  observe  fashions  of  the  ladies, 
because  of  my  wife's  making  some  clothes." 

Bacon  is  traditionally  said  to  have  lived  in  the  large 
house  facing  Gray's  Inn  garden-gates,  where  Fulke 
Greville,  Lord  Brooke,  frequently  sent  him  home-brewed 
beer  from  his  house  in  Holborn.  Basil  Montagu,  how- 
ever, fixes  Bacon's  abode  on  the  site  of  No.  1  Gray's 
Inn  Square,  first  floor ;  the  house  was  burnt  February 
17th,  1679,  with  sixty  other  chambers  (Historian js  Guide, 
3rd  edit.  1688),  which  demolishes  Lord  Campbell's 
speculative  statement,  that  Bacon's  chambers  "  remain 
in  the  same  state  as  when  he  occupied  them,  and  are 
still  visited  by  those  who  worship  his  memory."  (Lives 
of  the  Lord   Chancellors,   vol.    ii.   p.    274.)       Mr   Mon- 


Lord  Craven  and  the  Queen  of  Bohemia.  149 

tagu,  who  died  in  1852,  possessed  a  glass  and  silver- 
handled  fork,  with  a  shifting  silver  spoon-bowl,  which 
once  belonged  to  Lord  Bacon,  whose  crest,  a  boar, 
modelled  in  gold,  surmounts  the  fork-handle. 

Lord  Craven  and  the  Queen  of  Bohemia. 

William  Lord  Craven,  the  hero  of  Creutznach,  by 
his  romantic  attachment  to  Elizabeth,  the  titular  Queen 
of  Bohemia,  has  inseparably  associated  their  names  in 
history.  According  to  the  old  Yorkshire  tradition, 
Craven's  father,  Lord  Mayor  in  161 1,  was  born  of  such 
poor  parents  that  they  sent  him,  when  a  boy,  by  a 
common  carrier  to  London,  where  he  became  a  mercer 
in  Leadenhall  Street,  and  grew  rich.  His  son,  the  sol- 
dier of  fortune,  distinguished  himself  under  Gustavus 
Adolphus ;  and  at  the  storming  of  Creutznach  in  1632, 
his  determined  bravery  led  to  the  fortress  being  taken 
after  two  hours'  conflict,  in  which  all  the  English  officers 
were  wounded.  Craven  then  attached  himself  to  the 
King  and  Queen  of  Bohemia.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  James  I.,  and,  with  the  reluctant  consent  of  her 
parents  (particularly  of  her  mother,  who  used  to  twit 
her  with  the  title  of  Goody  Palsgrave),  was  married  to 
Frederick,  the  Elector  Palatine,  for  whom  the  Protestant 
interest  in  Germany  erected  Bohemia  into  a  kingdom, 
in  the  vain  hope,  with  the  assistance  of  his  father-in-law, 
of  competing  with  the  Catholic  Emperor.  Frederick 
lost  everything,  and  his  widow  became  a  dependent  on 
the  bounty  of  Craven,  who  had  fought  in  her  husband's 
cause,  and  helped  to  bring  up  her  children.  It  is  through 
her  that  the  family  of  Brunswick  succeeded  to  the  throne 
of  this  kingdom,  as  the  next  Protestant  heirs  of  James  I. 


150  Romance  of  London. 

James's  daughter,  being  a  woman  of  lively  manners,  a 
queen,  and  a  Protestant  leader,  excited  great  interest 
in  her  time,  and  received  more  than  the  usual  portion  of 
flattery  from  the  romantic.  Donne  wrote  an  epithala- 
mium  on  her  marriage,  beginning — 

Here  lies  a  she  sun,  and  a  he  moon  there. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  had  permission  to  call  her  his  "royal 
mistress,"  which  he  was  as  proud  of  as  if  he  had  been  a 
knight  of  old.  And  when  she  lost  her  Bohemian  king- 
dom, it  was  said  that  she  retained  a  better  one,  for  that 
she  was  still  the  "  Queen  of  Hearts."  Sir  Henry  wrote 
upon  her  his  elegant  verses  beginning — 

You  meaner  beauties  of  the  night, 

in  which  he  calls  her 

Th'  eclipse  and  glory  of  her  kind. 

Her  courage  and  presence  of  mind  were  so  conspicu- 
ous, and  her  figure  and  manners  so  attractive,  though 
not  to  be  called  a  consummate  beauty,  that  in  her  royal 
husband's  time,  "half  the  army  were  in  love  with  her." 

In  1664,  Charles  II.  conferred  upon  her  heroic  ad- 
mirer the  titles  of  Viscount  Craven  and  Earl  Craven  ; 
and  on  the  death  of  Monk,  gave  him  the  Colonelcy  of 
the  Coldstream  regiment  of  Foot-guards.  His  Lordship 
resided  in  Drury  House,  which  he  rebuilt :  it  was  then 
called  Craven  House.  Earl  Craven  is  said  to  have  been 
privately  married  to  the  widowed  Queen  of  Bohemia  (he 
was  her  junior  by  twelve  years)  ;  "and  thus,"  remarks 
Dr  Whitaker,  "  the  son  of  a  Wharfdale  peasant  matched 
with  a  sister  of  Charles  I." 

In  Craven  House,  the  romantic  Queen  would  appear 
from   some   accounts  to  have   resided ;  but  the  truth 


Lord  Craven  and  tJic  Queen  of  Bohemia.         151 

is,  she  lived  in  the  adjoining  house,  probably  built  for 
her  by  Lord  Craven,  and  called,  for  many  years  after- 
wards, Bohemia  House,  and  finally  converted  into  a 
public-house,  which  bore  her  head  for  its  sign.  There 
is  said  to  have  been  a  subterranean  communication 
between  the  two  houses,  the  sites  of  which,  and  grounds, 
are  now  occupied  by  Craven  Buildings  and  the  Olympic 
Theatre. 

The  Queen  quitted  Bohemia  House  for  Leicester 
House,  "afterwards  Norfolk  House,  in  the  Strand,"  where 
she  died  in  February  166 1-2.  Whether  Lord  Craven 
attended  her  at  this  period  does  not  appear;  but  she 
left  him  her  books,  pictures,  and  papers.  Sometimes 
he  accompanied  her  to  the  play:  he  built  the  fine  house 
of  Hampstead  Marshall,  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
Kennet,  in  Berkshire,  as  a  sort  of  asylum  for  his  injured 
Princess :  it  cost,  although  not  finished,  ^60,000,  and 
was  destroyed  by  fire  in  171 8. 

Lord  Craven  long  resided  in  Craven  House  ;  he  was 
famed  for  his  bustling  activity :  whenever  there  was  a 
fire  in- London,  Lord  Craven  was  sure  to  be  seen  riding 
about  to  give  orders  to  the  soldiers,  who  were  at  such 
disasters  called  out  to  preserve  order ;  and  his  horse  is 
said  to  have  "  smelt  a  fire  as  soon  as  it  happened." 
Pepys  describes  Craven  as  riding  up  and  down,  "  like  a 
madman,"  giving  orders  to  the  soldiery ;  and  Lord  Dorset 
sings  of  "  Lord  Craven's  drums  "  beating  day  and  night. 
When  there  was  a  talk  in  his  old  age  of  giving  his 
regiment  to  somebody  else,  Craven  said,  that  "  if  they 
took  away  his  regiment  they  had  as  good  take  away  his 
life,  since  he  had  nothing  else  to  divert  himself  with." 
The  next  king,  however,  William  III.,  gave  it  to 
General  Talmash ;  yet  the  old  lord  is  said  to  have  gone 


1 5  2  Romance  of  London. 

on,  busy  to  the  last.  He  died  in  1697,  aged  nearly  89 
years.  He  was  intimate  with  Evelyn,  Ray,  and  other 
naturalists,  and  delighted  in  gardening.  "  The  garden 
of  Craven  House  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  present 
Drury  Lane ;  so  that  where  there  is  now  a  bustle  of  a 
very  different  sort,  we  may  fancy  the  old  soldier  busying 
himself  with  his  flower-beds,  and  John  Evelyn  discours- 
ing upon  the  blessings  of  peace  and  privacy."* 

Craven  and  Monk,  Duke  of  Albemarle,  heroically 
stayed  in  town  during  the  dreadful  pestilence ;  and,  at 
the  hazard  of  their  lives,  preserved  order.  For  their 
noble  services,  two  or  three  great  silver  flagons  were 
made,  as  gifts  of  the  King.  Craven  continued  to  reside 
at  Craven  House,  Drury  Lane,  throughout  the  whole 
time  of  the  Plague  in  1665-6.  He  first  hired  and  then 
purchased  a  field  on  which  pest-houses  (said  to  be  thirty- 
six  in  number)  were  built  by  him  for  persons  afflicted 
with  that  disease,  and  in  which  a  common  burial-ground 
was  made  for  thousands  who  died  of  it.  In  1687,  the 
Earl  gave  this  field  and  its  houses  in  trust  for  the  poor 
of  St  Clement's  Danes,  St  Martin's-in-the-Fields,  St 
James's,  Westminster,  and  St  Paul's,  Covent  Garden, 
to  be  used  only  in  case  of  the  plague  re-appearing;  and 
the  place  came  to  be  known  as  the  Earl  of  Craven's  Pest- 
field,  the  Pest-field,  the  Pest-house-field,  or  Craven-field. 
In  1734,  the  surrounding  district  having  become  covered 
with  houses  and  streets,  a  private  Act,  7th  George  II. 
c.  1 1,  discharged  this  pest-house-field  from  its  charitable 
trusts,  transferring  them  without  alteration  to  other 
land  and  messuages  at  and  near  Byard's  Watering  Place 
(Bayswater),  Paddington,  now  called  Craven  Hill. 

A  singular  memorial  of  this  heroic  man  existed  to 
*  See  The  Town.     By  Leigh  Hunt,  edit.  1858. 


Lord  Craven  and  the  Queen  of  Bohemia.  153 

our  time.  Craven  Buildings  were  erected  in  1723, 
upon  part  of  the  grounds  attached  to  Craven  House. 
On  the  wall  at  the  bottom  of  the  buildings  was  formerly 
a  fresco  painting  of  the  gallant  Earl,  who  was  repre- 
sented in  armour,  mounted  on  a  white  charger,  and 
with  a  truncheon  in  his  hand,  and  the  letters  W.  C. 
This  portrait  was  twice  or  thrice  repainted  in  oil  ;  the 
last  time  by  Edwards,  A.R.A.,  author  of  A  Treatise  on 
Perspective:  the  picture  has  been  some  years  obliterated.* 
The  Craven  Head  Tavern  was  one  of  the  offices  of 
Craven  House;  and  the  adjoining  stabling  belonged  to 
the  mansion. 

Craven  Buildings  have  had  some  remarkable  tenants : 
Hayman,  the  painter,  contemporary  with  Hogarth, 
lived  here.  The  famous  actress,  Mrs  Bracegirdle,  had 
likewise  a  house  here,  which  was  afterwards  inhabited 
by  the  equally  celebrated  Mrs  Pritchard.  In  the  back 
parlour  of  No.  17,  Dr  Arne  composed  the  music  of 
Comus.  Elliston  had  a  house  during  his  lesseeship  of 
the  Olympic  Theatre,  and  communicating  with  it ;  and 
the  same  house  was  temporarily  occupied  by  Madame 
Vestris  and  Mr  William  Farren,  as  Olympic  lessees. 

It  was  in  Drury  Lane  that  Pepys,  7th  June  1665, 
saw  two  or  three  houses  marked  with  a  red  cross  upon 
the  doors,  and  "Lord  have  mercy  upon  us"  writ  there, 
and  the  first  of  the  kind  he  ever  saw. 

It  will  be  recollected,  from  the  several  accounts  of 
the  Plague  in  London,  that  a  cross  was  affixed  by  the 
authorities  to  the  door  of  the  house  where  there  was  in- 
fection.    In  the  Guildhall  Library,  not  long  since,  among 

*  In  Pennant's  London,  edit.  1813,  we  read  :  "The  portrait  which 
was  preserved  by  the  late  Earl,  with  laudable  attention,  is  now  covered 
with  plaster." 


154  Romance  of  L ondon. 

some  broadsides,  was  found  one  of  these  "  Plague 
Crosses."  It  was  the  ordinary  size  of  a  broadside,  and 
bore  a  cross  extending  to  the  edges  of  the  paper,  on 
which  were  printed  the  words,  "  Lord  have  mercy  upon 
us."  In  the  four  quarters  formed  by  the  limbs  of  the 
cross,  were  printed  directions  for  managing  the  patient, 
regulations  for  visits,  medicines,  food,  and  water.  This 
"  Cross  "  is  not  now  to  be  found. 

Addisons  "  Campaign? 

THIS  celebrated  poem  originated  as  follows.  The 
Lord  Treasurer,  Godolphin,  though  not  a  reading  man, 
was  mortified,  and  not  without  reason,  by  the  exceed- 
ing badness  of  the  poems  which  appeared  in  honour 
of  the  Battle  of  Blenheim.  One  of  these  poems  has 
been  rescued  from  oblivion  by  the  exquisite  absurdity 
of  three  lines  : — 

Think  of  two  thousand  gentlemen  at  least, 
And  each  man  mounted  on  his  capering  beast ; 
Into  the  Danube  they  were  pushed  by  shoals. 

Where  to  procure  better  verses  the  Treasurer  did  not 
know.  He  understood  how  to  negotiate  a  loan,  or 
remit  a  subsidy  :  he  was  also  well  versed  in  the  history 
of  running  horses  and  fighting  cocks  ;  but  his  acquaint- 
ance amongst  the  poets  was  very  small.  He  consulted. 
Halifax  ;  but  Halifax  affected  to  decline  the  office  of 
adviser.  "  I  do  know,"  he  said,  "  a  gentleman  who 
would  celebrate  the  battle  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the 
subject ;  but  I  will  not  name  him/'  Godolphin,  who 
was  expert  at  the  soft  answer  which  turneth  away 
wrath,  gently  replied  that  the  services  of  a  man  such 
as  Halifax  had  described  should  be  liberally  rewarded. 


Addison's  "  Campaign?  155 

Halifax  then  mentioned  Addison,  but,  mindful  of  the 
dignity  as  well  as  of  the  pecuniary  interest  of  his  friend, 
insisted  that  the  Minister  should  apply  in  the  most 
courteous  manner  to  Addison  himself,  and  this  Godol- 
phin  promised  to  do. 

Addison  then  occupied  a  garret  up  three  pair  of 
stairs,  over  a  small  shop  in  the  Haymarket  In  this 
humble  lodging  he  was  surprised,  on  the  morning  fol- 
lowing the  conversation  between  Godolphin  and  Hali- 
fax, by  a  visit  from  no  less  a  person  than  the  Right 
Honourable  Henry  Boyle,  then  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  and  afterwards  Lord  Carleton.  This  high- 
born Minister  had  been  sent  by  the  Lord  Treasurer  as 
ambassador  to  the  needy  poet.  Addison  readily  un- 
dertook the  proposed  task — a  task  which,  to  so  good 
a  Whig,  was  probably  a  pleasure.  When  the  poem 
was  little  more  than  half  finished  he  showed  it  to 
Godolphin,  who  was  delighted  with  it,  and  particularly 
with  the  famous  similitude  of  the  Angel.  Addison 
was  instantly  appointed  to  a  Commissionership  worth 
about  two  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  was  assured 
that  this  appointment  was  only  an  earnest  of  greater 
favours. 

The  Campaign  came  forth,  and  was  as  much  admired 
by  the  public  as  by  the  Minister.  Its  chief  merit  is 
that  which  was  noticed  by  Johnson — the  manly  and 
rational  rejection  of  fiction.  Lord  Macaulay,  from 
whose  admirable  paper  on  Addison  these  details  are 
condensed,  there  refers  to  the  battles  with  which  Homer 
was  familiar,  of  men  who  sprung  from  the  gods — 
communed  with  the  gods  face  to  face — of  men,  one 
of  whom  could,  with  ease,  hurl  rocks,  which  two  sturdy 
hinds  of  a  later  period  would  be  unable  to  lift.     He, 


1 5 6  Romance  of  London. 

therefore,  naturally  represented  their  martial  exploits 
as  resembling  in  kind,  but  far  surpassing  in  magnitude, 
those  of  the  stoutest  and  most  expert  combatants  of 
his  own  age.  These  are  termed  by  Macaulay,  "  magni- 
ficent exasperations  of  the  real  hero;"  and  with  his 
usual  fondness  for  parallel,  so  successful  in  this  great 
master  of  the  art  of  writing,  Macaulay  remarks :  "  In 
all  rude  societies,  similar  notions  are  found.  There  are, 
at  this  day,  countries  where  the  Lifeguardsman  Shaw 
would  be  considered  as  a  much  greater  warrior  than 
the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Bonaparte  loved  to  describe 
the  astonishment  with  which  the  Mamelukes  looked 
at  his  diminutive  figure.  Mourad  Bey,  distinguished 
above  all  his  fellows  by  his  bodily  strength,  and  by 
the  skill  with  which  he  managed  his  horse  and  sabre, 
could  not  believe  that  a  man  who  was  scarcely  five  feet 
high,  and  rode  like  a  butcher,  could  be  the  greatest 
soldier  in  Europe." 

The  detestable  fashion  of  exaggeration  was  copied 
in  modern  times,  and  continued  to  prevail  down  to  the 
aee  of  Addison.  Several  versifiers  had  described  Wil- 
liam  turning  thousands  to  flight  by  his  single  prowess, 
and  dyeing  the  Boyne  with  Irish  blood.  Nay,  so 
estimable  a  writer  as  John  Philips,  the  author  of  the 
Splendid  Shilling,  represented  Marlborough  as  having 
won  the  battle  of  Blenheim  merely  by  strength  of  muscle 
and  skill  in  fence. 

Addison,  with  excellent  sense  and  taste,  departed 
from  this  ridiculous  fashion.  He  reserved  his  praise  for 
the  qualities  which  made  Marlborough  truly  great — 
energy,  sagacity,  military  science.  But,  above  all,  the 
poet  extolled  the  firmness  of  that  mind  which,  in  the 
midst  of  confusion,   uproar,   and   slaughter,   examined 


A  ddisoiis  "  Campaign."  1 5  7 

and  disposed  everything  with  the  serene  wisdom  of  a 
higher  intelligence. 

Here  it  was  that  he  introduced  the  famous  compari- 
son of  Marlborough  to  an  Angel  guiding  the  whirl- 
wind. Macaulay  then  points  to  one  circumstance  which 
appears  to  have  escaped  all  the  critics.  The  extra- 
ordinary effect  which  his  simile  produced  when  it  first 
appeared,  and  which  to  the  following  generation  seemed 
inexplicable,  is  doubtless  to  be  chiefly  attributed  to  a 
line  which  most  readers  now  regard  as  a  feeble  paren- 
thesis : — 

Such  as  of  late  o'er  pale  Britannia  pass'd. 

"Addison  spoke  not  of  a  storm,  but  of  the  storm.  The 
great  tempest  of  1703 — the  only  tempest  which,  in  our 
latitude,  has  equalled  the  rage  of  a  tropical  hurricane — 
had  left  a  dreadful  recollection  in  the  minds  of  all  men. 
No  other  tempest  was  ever  in  this  country  the  occasion 
of  a  parliamentary  address,  or  of  a  public  fast.  Whole 
fleets  had  been  cast  away.  Large  mansions  had  been 
blown  down.  One  prelate  had  been  buried  beneath 
the  ruins  of  his  palace.  London  and  Bristol  had  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  cities  just  sacked.  Hundreds 
of  families  were  still  in  mourning.  The  prostrate  trunks 
of  large  trees,  and  the  ruins  of  houses,  still  attested,  in 
all  the  southern  counties,  the  fury  of  the  blast.  The 
popularity  which  the  simile  of  the  Angel  enjoyed  among 
Addison's  contemporaries  has  always  seemed  to  us  to 
be  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  advantage  which,  in 
rhetoric  and  poetry,  the  particular  has  over  the  general." 
The  house  in  which  Addison  lodged  has  not  been 
identified  in  the  Haymarket  of  our  time.  We  have  a 
minute  record  of  Pope  having  visited  the  house  with  the 


158  Romance  of  London. 

feeling  of  homage  to  genius.  The  Bard  of  Twicken- 
ham is  stated  to  have  asked  Walter  Harte  to  ascend 
three  pair  of  stairs,  and  enter  a  small  top  room  above 
a  small  shop  in  the  Haymarket ;  when  they  were  within 
the  room,  Pope  said  to  Harte,  "  In  this  garret  Addison 
wrote  his  Campaign? 

Thackeray  has  cleverly  illustrated  this  bright  turn  in 
Addison's  fortunes.  He  quotes  from  the  Campaign 
Marlborough's  equanimity,  and  the  wonderful  simile  : — 

So  when  an  angel,  by  Divine  command, 
With  rising  tempests  shakes  a  guilty  land 
(Such  as  of  late  o'er  pale  Britannia  pass'd), 
Calm  and  serene  he  drives  the  furious  blast ; 
And  pleas'd  the  Almighty's  orders  to  perform, 
Rides  on  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm. 

"Addison  left  off  at  a  good  moment,"  adds  Thackeray. 
"That  simile  was  pronounced  to  be  the  greatest  ever 
produced  in  poetry.  That  angel,  that  good  angel,  flew 
off  with  Mr  Addison,  and  landed  him  in  the  place  of 
Commissioner  of  Appeals — vice  Mr  Locke,  providen- 
tially promoted.  In  the  following  year,  Mr  Addison 
went  to  Hanover  with  Lord  Halifax,  and  the  year  after 
was  made  Under-Secretary  of  State.  O  angel  visits! 
you  come  '  few  and  far  between '  to  literary  gentlemen's 
lodgings!  Your  wings  seldom  quiver  at  second-floor 
windows  now ! " 


Ladies  Excluded  from  the  House  of  Lords. 

It  was  in  the  year  1738  that  it  was  resolved  to  exclude 
ladies  from  the  galleries  of  the  two  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment.    The  execution  of  the  resolution  led  to  a  strange 


Ladies  Excluded  from  the  House  of  Lords.        159 

scene,  which  is  thus  cleverly  described  in  a  letter  of  this 
date,  by  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  : — 

"At  the  last  warm  debate  in  the  House  of  Lords,  it 
was  unanimously  resolved  there  should  be  no  crowd  of 
unnecessary  auditors ;  consequently,  the  fair  sex  were 
excluded,  and  the  gallery  destined  to  the  sole  use  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  Notwithstanding  which  deter- 
mination a  tribe  of  dames  resolved  to  show  on  this 
occasion  that  neither  men  nor  laws  could  resist  them. 
These  heroines  were — Lady  Huntingdon,  the  Duchess 
of  Queensbury,  the  Duchess  of  Amaster,  Lady  West- 
moreland, Lady  Cobham,  Lady  Charlotte  Edwin,  Lady 
Archibald  Hamilton  and  her  daughter,  Mrs  Scott,  Mrs 
Pendarves,  and  Lady  Saunderson.  I  am  thus  parti- 
cular in  their  names,  because  I  look  upon  them  to  be 
the  boldest  assertors,  and  most  resigned  sufferers  for 
liberty  I  ever  read  of.  They  presented  themselves  at 
the  door  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  Sir 
William  Saunderson  respectfully  informed  them  the 
Chancellor  had  made  an  order  against  their  admittance. 
The  Duchess  of  Queensbury,  as  head  of  the  squadron, 
pished  at  the  ill-breeding  of  a  mere  lawyer,  and  desired 
him  to  let  them  upstairs  privately.  After  some  modest 
refusals,  he  swore  by  G —  he  would  not  let  them  in. 
Her  Grace,  with  a  noble  warmth,  answered  by  G — 
they  would  come  in,  in  spite  of  the  Chancellor  and  the 
whole  House.  This  being  reported,  he  then  resolved  to 
starve  them  out ;  an  order  was  made  that  the  door 
should  not  be  opened  till  they  had  raised  the  siege. 
These  Amazons  now  showed  themselves  qualified  for 
the  duty  even  of  foot  soldiers  ;  they  stood  there  till  five 
in  the  afternoon,  without  either  sustenance  or  evacua- 
tion, every  now  and  then   playing  volleys  of  thumps, 


160  Romance  of  London. 

kicks,  and  raps  against  the  door,  with  so  much  violence 
that  the  speakers  in  the  House  were  scarce  heard. 
When  the  Lords  were  not  to  be  conquered  by  this,  the 
two  Duchesses  (very  well  apprised  of  the  use  of  strata- 
gem in  war)  commanded  a  dead  silence  for  half-an- 
hour ;  and  the  Chancellor,  who  thought  this  a  certain 
proof  of  their  absence  (the  Commons  also  being  very 
impatient  to  enter),  gave  order  for  the  opening  of  the 
door ;  upon  which  they  all  rushed  in,  pushed  aside  their 
competitors,  and  placed  themselves  in  the  front  rows  of 
the  gallery.  They  stayed  there  till  after  eleven,  when 
the  House  rose ;  and  during  the  debate  gave  applause, 
and  showed  marks  of  dislike,  not  only  by  smiles  and 
winks  (which  have  always  been  allowed  in  such  cases), 
but  by  noisy  laughs  and  contempts ;  which  is  supposed 
the  true  reason  why  poor  Lord  Hervey  spoke  so  miser- 
ably." 

Jemmy  Dawson. 

KENNINGTON  Common  was,  in  the  last  century,  the 
place  of  execution  for  the  county  of  Surrey ;  at  the 
present  day  it  presents  nothing  to  remind  us  of  its 
criminal  history.  It  is  no  longer  the  place  of  the 
gibbet,  or  has  its  green  turf  trodden  down  by  crowds 
flocking  to  pugilistic  contests,  or  the  orations  of  political 
brawlers  ;  but  it  is  now  a  healthful  place  of  recreation, 
with  its  lawn,  its  shrubs,  and  flowers.  With  the  great 
Chartist  gathering  in  1848  upon  this  spot,  the  political 
fame  of  Kennington  Common  may  be  said  to  have 
ceased. 

Still,   one  of  its   last  century  events  lingers"  in  the 
simple  tenderness  and  pathos  of  one  of  the  songs  of  Shen- 


Jan  my  Dawson.  1 6 1 

stone,  which  narrates  in  its  homely  verse  the  mournful 
tale  of  Captain  James  Dawson,  one  of  the  eight  officers 
of  the  Manchester  regiment  of  volunteers  in  the  service 
of  the  young  Chevalier,  who  were  hanged,  drawn,  and 
quartered  on  Kennington  Common,  in  1746. 

Shenstone,  "  whose  mind  was  not  very  comprehensive, 
nor  his  curiosity  active,"  was  content  to  take  the  event 
of  his  song  from  a  narrative  first  published  in  the  Parrot 
of  August  2,  1746,  as  follows: — Mr  James  Dawson  was 
one  of  those  unfortunate  gentlemen  who  suffered  on 
Kennington  Common  for  high  treason  ;  and  had  he 
either  been  acquitted  or  received  the  Royal  mercy 
after  condemnation,  the  day  of  his  enlargement  was  to 
have  been  the  day  of  his  marriage.  The  following  are 
the  particulars  of  his  execution,  and  the  fate  of  the 
unfortunate  young  lady  to  whom  he  was  sincerely 
attached  : — 

"On  her  being  informed  that  Mr  Dawson  was  to  be 
executed,  not  all  the  persuasions  of  her  kindred  could 
prevent  her  from  going  to  the  place  of  execution ;  she 
accordingly  followed  the  sledge  in  a  hackney  coach, 
accompanied  by  a  gentleman  nearly  related  to  her,  and 
a  female  friend.  Having  arrived  at  the  place  of  execu- 
tion, she  got  near  enough  to  see  the  fire  kindled  that 
was  to  consume  him,  and  all  the  other  dreadful  prepa- 
rations, without  betraying  any  of  those  emotions  her 
friends  apprehended.  But  when  all  was  over,  and  she 
found  he  was  no  more,  she  threw  her  head  back  in  the 
coach,  and  ejaculating,  '  My  dear,  I  follow  thee !  Lord 
Jesus,  receive  our  souls  together  ! '  fell  on  the  neck  of  her 
companion,  and  expired  the  very  moment  she  had  done 
speaking.  Most  excessive  grief,  which  the  force  of  her 
resolution  had   kept   smothered   within    her   breast,  is 

Vol..  1.  L 


1 62  Romance  of  L ondon. 

thought  to  have  put  a  stop  to  the  vital  motion,  and  suf- 
focated at  once  all  the  animal  spirits."  In  the  Whitehall 
Evening  Post  of  August  7,  1746,  the  above  narrative  is 
copied,  and  the  remark  added,  that  "upon  inquiry,  every 
circumstance  was  literally  true."  The  catastrophe  is 
thus  reproduced  in  Shenstone's  song  : — 

But  though,  dear  youth,  thou  shouldst  be  dragged 

To  yonder  ignominious  tree, 
Thou  shalt  not  want  a  faithful  friend 

To  share  thy  bitter  fate  with  thee. 

O  then  her  mourning  coach  was  called, 

The  sledge  moved  slowly  on  before  ; 
Though  borne  in  her  triumphal  car, 

She  had  not  loved  her  favourite  more. 

She  followed  him,  prepared  to  view 

The  terrible  behests  of  law  ; 
And  the  last  scene  of  Jemmy's  woes 

With  calm  and  steadfast  eye  she  saw. 

Distorted  was  that  blooming  face, 

Which  she  had  fondly  loved  so  long ; 
And  stifled  was  that  tuneful  breath, 

Which  in  her  praise  had  sweetly  sung ; 

And  severed  was  that  beauteous  neck, 

Round  which  her  arms  had  fondly  closed ; 

And  mangled  was  that  beauteous  breast, 
On  which  her  love-sick  head  reposed  ; 

And  ravished  was  that  constant  heart, 

She  did  to  every  heart  prefer; 
For  though  it  would  its  King  forget, 

'Twas  true  and  loyal  still  to  her. 

Amid  those  unrelenting  flames 

She  bore  this  constant  heart  to  see  ; 
And  when  'twas  mouldered  into  dust, 

Now,  now,  she  cried,  I  follow  thee. 


Secret  Visits  of  the  Young  Pretender.  1G3 

My  death,  my  death  alone  can  show 

The  pure  and  lasting  love  I  bore  : 
Accept,  O  Heaven  !  of  woes  like  ours, 

And  let  us,  let  us  weep  no  more. 

The  dismal  scene  was  o'er  and  past, 

The  lover's  mournful  hearse  retired ; 
The  maid  drew  back  her  languid  head, 

And,  sighing  forth  his  name,  expired. 


Secret  Visits  of  the  Young  Pretender  to 

London. 

At  Christmas  1864,  the  appearance  in  the  Times  journal 
of  a  letter  from  the  Queen's  Librarian  at  Windsor  Castle 
relating  to  the  Stuart  papers  acquired  by  George  IV., 
when  Prince  Regent,  and  deposited  in  the  Royal  Library 
by  William  IV.,  led  to  a  revival  of  the  historic  doubt 
as  to  the  Secret  Visits  of  Prince  Charles  Edward  (the 
young  Pretender)  to  London ;  and  produced  the  follow- 
ing very  interesting  evidences,  contributed  by  a  pains- 
taking correspondent  to  the  above-named  journal. 

It  seems  to  be  pretty  generally  taken  for  granted  that 
Prince  Charles  Edward  paid  but  one  single  visit  to  Lon- 
don ;  whereas  four  different  occasions  have  been  recorded 
in  which  he  is  said  to  have  risked  his  liberty,  if  not  his 
life,  by  making  secret  journeys  to  the  British  metropolis. 
The  first  of  these  presumed  adventures  is  thus  set  forth 
by  Forsyth,  the  accomplished  traveller  in  Italy : — 

"  England  was  just  respiring  from  the  late  Rebellion, 
when  in  1748,  on  the  faith  of  a  single  gentleman,  he  (the 
Prince)  set  off  for  London  in  a  hideous  disguise,  under 
the  name  of  Smith.  On  arriving  there,  he  was  introduced 
at  midnight  into  a  room  full  of  conspirators  whom  he 
had  never  seen.    '  Here/  said  his  conductor,  '  is  the  per- 


164  Romance  of  London. 

son  you  want,'  and  left  him  locked  up  in  this  mysterious 
assembly.  These  were  men  who  imagined  themselves 
equal  at  that  time  to  treat  with  him  for  the  throne  of 
England.  '  Dispose  of  me,  gentlemen,  as  you  please,' 
said  Charles.  '  My  life  is  in  your  power,  and  I  therefore 
can  stipulate  for  nothing.  Yet  give  me,  I  entreat  you, 
one  solemn  promise,  that,  if  your  design  should  succeed, 
the  present  family  shall  be  sent  safely  and  honourably 
home.'  For  a  few  days  the  young  adventurer  was  flat- 
tered with  the  glorious  prospect,  until  difficulties  arose 
on  the  part  of  the  French  Ambassador,  whose  Court  had 
cooled  in  the  Stuart  cause.  Charles  remained  on  the 
rack  of  suspense  for  a  week  in  London,  where  different 
persons  recognised  him  in  the  streets,  but  (such  was 
ever  his  only  good  fortune)  none  betrayed  him.  He 
then  returned  to  Paris  to  encounter  cruel  indignation, 
and  was  there  arrested  and  expelled  the  kingdom." — 
Forsytes  Remarks  on  Italy,  p.  436,  4th  ed. 

Lord  Stanhope,  in  his  History  of  England  (vol.  iii.  p. 
253,  note,  2d  ed.),  takes  it  for  granted  that  Forsyth  has 
mistaken  the  year  1748  for  1750;  but,  presuming  that 
Forsyth,  whose  "  scrupulous  accuracy"  Lord  Stanhope 
himself  admits,  is  correct  in  his  data  that  the  visit  was 
made  previously  to  the  Prince's  arrest  and  imprisonment 
by  the  French  Court,  in  that  case  it  must  unquestionably 
have  taken  place  before  the  year  1750.  The  coincidence 
is  rather  a  curious  one  that  the  nickname  of  "  Smith" 
was  the  same  which  the  Prince's  great-grandfather, 
Charles  I.,  adopted  on  the  occasion  of  his  clandestine 
and  romantic  visit  to  Spain  in  1623.  (Howell's  Letters, 
p.  132,  10th  ed.) 

That  Prince  Charles  visited  London  in  the  year  1750 
is  unquestionable  ;   indeed,  the  following  extract  from 


Secret  Visits  of  the  Young  Pretender.  165 

Dr  Kings  Anecdotes  of  his  own  Time  (p.  196  and  p.  199, 
note,  2d  ed.),  arc  of  themselves  sufficient  to  remove  any 
doubt  on  the  subject : — 

"September  1750,  I  received  a  note  from  my  Lady 
Primrose,  who  desired  to  see  me  immediately.  As  soon 
as  I  waited  on  her  (in  Essex  Street,  Strand),  she  led  me 
into  her  dressing-room  and  presented  me  to  the  Prince. 
If  I  was  surprised  to  find  him  there,  I  was  still  more 
astonished  when  he  acquainted  me  with  the  motives 
which  had  induced  him  to  hazard  a  journey  to  England  at 
this  juncture.  The  impatience  of  his  friends  who  were 
in  exile  had  formed  a  scheme  which  was  impracticable ; 
but  although  it  had  been  as  feasible  as  they  had  repre- 
sented to  him,  yet  no  preparation  had  been  made,  nor 
was  anything  ready  to  carry  it  into  execution.  He  was 
soon  convinced  that  he  had  been  deceived,  and  therefore, 
after  a  stay  in  London  of  five  days  only,  he  returned  to 
the  place  from  whence  he  came. 

"  He  came  one  evening  to  my  lodgings,  and  drank  tea 
with  me.  My  servant,  after  he  was  gone,  said  to  me 
that  he  thought  my  new  visitor  was  very  like  Prince 
Charles.  '  Why/  said  I,  '  have  you  ever  seen  Prince 
Charles  ? '  '  No,  sir/  replied 'the  fellow,  '  but  this  gentle- 
man, whoever  he  maybe,  exactly  resembles  the  busts  of 
Prince  Charles.'  The  truth  is,  these  busts  were  taken  in 
plaster  of  Paris  from  his  face." 

This  is  the  particular  visit,  the  duration  of  which  has 
been  a  matter  of  discussion  between  the  Queen's  Libra- 
rian and  Lord  Stanhope,  and  which  the  Prince  has  twice 
recorded  in  his  memoranda,  once  in  the  Old  and  again 
in  the  New  Style  : — 

"  O.S.  Ye  5th  Sept.  1750  arrived  ;  ye  nth  parted  to 
Dover." 


1 66  Romance  of  London. 

"  N.S.  At  London  ye  16th ;  parted  from  London  ye 

22d." 

Thus,  not  reckoning  the  broken  days  of  arrival  and 
departure,  it  will  be  seen  that  Dr  King's  statement 
{Anecdotes,  p.  197)  that  the  Prince's  stay  in  London  lasted 
for  "  five  days  only,"  is  perfectly  correct. 

The  two  notes  compared  and  found  inconsistent  as  to 
dates  by  Lord  Stanhope  may  be  reconciled  by  remem- 
bering the  eleven  days'  difference  between  old  and  new 
style  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  In  No.  1  the 
Pretender  says  he  "  parted  from  London  the  22d  and 
arrived  at  Paris  the  24th  ; "  the  dates,  new  style,  are  the 
same  as  those  he  gives  in  No.  2  as  "  O.S.,  the  nth 
parted  to  Dover  .  .  .  the  13th  at  Paris,"  the  old  style 
being  eleven  days  earlier. 

The  next  assumed  visit  of  Charles*  Edward  to  London 
took  place,  according  to  Hume,  in  1753  ;  or,  according 
to  Philip  Thicknesse,  in  his  Memoirs,  "about  the  year 
1754."  The  following  extract  of  a  letter  from  Hume  to 
Sir  John  Pringle,  dated  February  10,  1773,  contains  the 
principal  particulars  respecting  this  visit,  such  as  they 
were  related  to  the  historian  by  one  of  the  most  devoted 
of  the  partisans  of  the  House  of  Stuart,  Earl  Maris- 
chal : — 

"  That  the  present  Pretender  was  in  London  in  the 
year  1753  I  know  with  the  greatest  certainty,  because  I 
had  it  from  Lord  Marischal,  who  said  it  consisted  with 
his  certain  knowledge.  Two  or  three  days  after  his 
Lordship  gave  me  this  information  he  told  me  that  the 
evening  before  he  had  learned  several  curious  particulars 
from  a  lady  who  I  imagine  to  be  Lady  Primrose,  though 
my  lord  refused  to  name  her.  The  Pretender  came  to 
her  house  in  the  evening  without  giving  her  any  pre- 


Secret  Visits  of  the  Young  Pretender.  167 

paratory  information,  and  entered  the  room  where  she 
had  a  pretty  large  company  with  her,  and  was  herself 
playing  at  cards.  He  was  announced  by  the  servant 
under  another  name.  She  thought  the  cards  would 
have  dropped  from  her  hands  on  seeing  him,  but  she  had 
presence  enough  of  mind  to  call  him  by  the  name  he  had 
assumed,  to  ask  him  when  he  came  to  England,  and  how 
long  he  intended  to  stay  there.  After  he  and  all  the 
company  went  away,  the  servants  remarked  how  won- 
derfully like  the  strange  gentleman  was  to  the  Prince's 
picture,  which  hung  on  the  chimney-piece  in  the  very 
room  in  which  he  entered.  My  lord  added  (I  think 
from  the  authority  of  the  same  lady)  that  he  used  so 
little  precaution  that  he  went  abroad  openly  in  daylight 
in  his  own  dress,  only  laying  aside  his  blue  riband  and 
star ;  walked  once  through  St  James's,  and  took  a  turn 
in  the  Mall.  About  five  years  ago  I  told  this  story  to 
Lord  Holdernesse,  who  was  Secretary  of  State  in  the 
year  1753  ;  and  I  added  I  supposed  this  piece  of  intelli- 
gence had  escaped  his  Lordship.  '  By  no  means,'  said 
he,  '  and  who,  do  you  think,  first  told  it  me  ?  It  was  the 
King  himself  (George  II.),  who  subjoined,  "and  what  do 
you  think,  my  lord,  I  should  do  with  him?"'  Lord 
Holdernesse  owned  that  he  was  puzzled  how  to  reply  ; 
for  if  he  declared  his  real  sentiments  they  might  savour 
of  indifference  to  the  Royal  Family.  The  King  per- 
ceived his  embarrassment,  and  extricated  him  from  it 
by  adding,  '  My  lord,  I  shall  just  do  nothing  at  all,  and 
when  he  is  tired  of  England  he  will  go  abroad  again.'  I 
think  this  story,  for  the  honour  of  the  late  King,  ought 
to  be  more  generally  known."  {Nichols s  Literary  Anec- 
dotes of  the  iSth  Century ',  vol.  ix.  p.  401.) 

The  fact  of  this  remarkable  conversation  having  taken 


1 6$  Romance  of  L ondon. 

place  between  the  King  and  his  Minister  has  been  repu- 
diated by  Lord  Stanhope  {Hist,  of  Engl.,  vol.  iv.  p.  13), 
on  the  supposition  that  the  date  to  which  it  is  assign- 
able is  during  the  Prince's  visit  to  London  in  September 
1750;  and  accordingly,  as  his  Lordship  discovers  that 
during  all  that  month  George  II.  was  absent  in  his  Hano- 
verian dominions,  he  naturally  arrives  at  the  conclusion 
that  the  conversation  could  never  have  taken  place. 
Not  only,  however,  does  Hume,  in  his  letter  to  Sir  John 
Pringle,  three  times  over  mention  the  year  as  having 
been  1753,  but  Lord  Holdernesse,  who  vouches  for  the 
truth  of  it,  was  not  appointed  Secretary  of  State  till 
1751.  By  some  much  more  curious  conception  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  who  has  told  the  world  so  much  that  is 
interesting  respecting  Charles  Edward,  has  not  only 
committed  the  anachronism  of  making  George  III., 
instead  of  George  II.,  the  hero  of  the  foregoing  anec- 
dote, but  instances  it  as  proof  of  the  "  goodness  oi  heart 
and  soundness  of  policy  "  of  the  former  monarch.  (Red* 
gauntlet,  note  to  chapter  xi.)  The  following  is  the 
passage  in  Thicknesses  Memoirs  (p.  340),  previously 
referred  to  as  tending  to  corroborate  the  assumption 
that  the  Prince  paid  a  secret  visit  to  London  in  or 
about  the  year  1753  : — 

"  That  this  unfortunate  man  was  in  London  about  the 
year  1754  is  positively  asserted.  He  came  hither  con- 
trary to  the  opinions  of  all  his  friends  abroad,  but  he 
was  determined,  he  said,  to  see  the  capital  of  that  king- 
dom over  which  he  thought  himself  born  to  reign.  After 
being  a  few  hours  at  a  lady's  house  in  Essex  Street,  in 
the  Strand,  he  was  met  by  one  who  knew  his  person  in 
Hyde  Park,  and  who  made  an  attempt  to  kneel  to  him. 
This  circumstance  so  alarmed  the  lady  at  whose  house 


Secret  Visits  of  the  Voting  Pretender.  1 69 

he  resided,  that  a  boat  was  procured  the  same  night,  and 
he  returned  instantly  to  France." 

The  details  of  the  Prince's  visit  to  Essex  Street,  as 
related  by  Hume,  are  curiously  substantiated  by  a  me- 
morandum of  the  Right  Hon.  Charles  Williams  Wynn, 
to  whom  they  were  "often  repeated"  by  his  grand- 
mother, who  received  them  direct  from  Lady  Primrose 
herself.  It  appears  from  Mr  Wynn's  account  that,  in 
whatever  year  the  visit  to  which  he  refers  may  have 
occurred,  the  Prince  on  that  occasion  was  introduced  to 
Lady  Primrose  and  her  guests  by  the  name  of  "  Browne." 
{Diaries  of  a  Lady  of  Qualify,  p.  290.) 

The  fourth  and  last  of  the  assumed  secret  visits  of 
Charles  Edward  to  London  dates  in  1761,  this  being  the 
occasion  on  which  he  is  popularly  supposed  to  have 
been  a  spectator  of  the  coronation  of  George  III.  The 
following  is  Hume's  account  of  the  latter  incident,  as 
related  to  him  by  the  Earl  MarischaL  on  whose  sole 
authority  its  credibility  seems  to  rest : — 

"  What  will  surprise  you  more,  Lord  Marischal,  a  few 
days  after  the  coronation  of  the  present  King,  told  me  he 
believed  the  Pretender  was  at  that  time  in  London,  or  at 
least  had  been  so  very  lately,  and  had  come  over  to  see 
the  show  of  the  coronation,  and  had  actually  seen  it.  I 
asked  my  lord  the  reason  for  this  strange  fact.  '  Why,' 
says  he,  '  a  gentleman  told  me  so  that  saw  him  there, 
and  that  he  even  spoke  to  him  and  whispered  in  his  ear 
these  words,  'Your  Royal  Highness  is  the  last  of  all 
mortals  whom  I  should  expect  to  see  here.'  '  It  was 
curiosity  that  led  me,'  said  the  other;  '  but  I  assure  you,' 
added  he,  '  that  the  person  who  is  the  object  of  all  this 
pomp  and  magnificence  is  the  man  I  envy  the  least.' 
You  sec  this  story  is  so  nearly  traced  from  the  fountain- 


1 70  Romance  of  London. 

head  as  to  wear  a  great  face  of  probability.  Query — • 
What  if  the  Pretender  had  taken  up  Dymock's  gaunt- 
let ?  "     {Nichols's  Lit.  Anecdotes,  v.  ix.  p.  401.) 

With  regard  to  the  Prince's  renunciation  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  religion,  there  are  two  passages  in 
his  Memoranda  (Times,  December  27,  1864)  which  are 
valuable  as  showing  that  that  event  took  place  in  1750. 
With  regard  to  the  abstract  fact  of  the  Prince's  conver- 
sion to  Protestantism,  it  has  already  been  substantiated 
by  a  letter,  preserved  among  Bishop  Forbes's  MSS., 
from  the  Prince  to  his'  friends  in  Scotland,  dated  August 
12,  1762  ; — "  Assure  my  friends  in  Britain  that  I  am  in 
perfect  health.  .  .  .  They  may  be  assured  that  I  shall 
live  and  die  in  the  religion  of  the  Church  of  England, 
which  I  have  embraced."  {Chambers 's  History  of  the 
Rebellion  of  1745,  p.  422,  6th  ed.)  According  to  Hume, 
it  was  in  the  church  of  St  Mary-le-Strand,  or,  as  it  was 
then  styled,  "the  New  Church  in  the  Strand,"  that  Charles 
Edward  formally  renounced  the  Roman  Catholic  faith. 

It  may  be  mentioned  that  the  Lady  Primrose  who  has 
been  more  than  once  referred  to  was  the  same  lady  whose 
house  in  Essex  Street,  in  1747,  afforded  a  home  to  the 
celebrated  Flora  Macdonald  after  her  release  from  the 
mild  durance  in  which  she  had  been  detained  by  the 
Government.  Lady  Primrose,  whose  maiden  name  was 
Drelincourt,  was  the  daughter  of  the  Dean  of  Armagh, 
and  widow  of  Hugh,  third  Viscount  Primrose. 

The  Riots  of  1 780. 

THESE  disgraceful  tumults  originated  in  the  meeting 
held  by  the  Protestant  Association  in  Coachmakcrs' 
Hall,  whereat,  on  May  29,   17S0,  the  following  rcsolu- 


The  Riots  of  i  y So.  171 

tion  was  proposed  and  carried  : — "  That  the  whole  body 
of  the  Protestant  Association  do  attend  in  St  George's 
Fields  on  Friday  next,  at  10  of  the  clock  in  the  morning, 
to  accompany  Lord  George  Gordon  to  the  House  of 
Commons  on  the  delivery  of  the  Protestant  Petition  [for 
the  repeal  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Relief  Bill]."  His 
Lordship,  who  was  present,  observed,  "  If  less  than 
20,oco  of  his  fellow-citizens  attended  him  on  that  day, 
he  would  not  present  their  petition/'  On  the  day  ap- 
pointed (Friday,  the  2d  of  June),  the  Association 
assembled  in  St  George's  Fields.  There  was  a  vast 
concourse,  and  their  numbers  increasing,  they  marched 
over  London  Bridge  in  separate  divisions  ;  and  through 
the  City  to  Westminster — 50,000,  at  least,  in  number. 
Lord  George  Gordon  and  his  followers  wore  blue  ribands 
in  their  hats  ;  and  each  division  was  preceded  by  its 
respective  banner,  bearing  the  words  "  No  Popery."  At 
Charing  Cross  they  were  joined  by  additional  numbers, 
on  foot,  on  horseback,  and  in  carriages.  All  the  avenues 
to  both  Houses  of  Parliament  were  entirely  filled. 
About  eight,  the  Lords  adjourned,  and  were  suffered  to 
go  home ;  though  the  rioters  declared  that  if  the  other 
House  did  not  repeal  the  Bill,  there  would  at  night  be 
terrible  mischief.  Lord  George  Gordon  was  running 
backwards  and  forwards,  from  the  windows  of  the 
Speaker's  Chamber,  denouncing  all  that  spoke  against 
him  to  the  mob  in  the  lobby.  Still,  the  members  were 
besieged,  and  were  locked  up  for  four  hours ;  and  there 
was  a  moment  when  they  thought  they  must  have 
opened  the  doors,  and  fought  their  way  out  sword  in 
hand.  Lord  North  was  very  firm,  and  at  last  they  got 
the  guards  and  cleared  the  pass. 

Blue  banners  had  been  waved  from  the  tops  of  houses 


1 7  2  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

at  Whitehall  as  signals  to  the  people,  while  the  coaches 
passed,  whom  they  should  applaud  or  abuse.  Sir  George 
Savile's  and  Charles  Turner's  coaches  were  demolished. 
At  half-past  ten,  a  new  scene  opened  ;  the  mob  forced 
the  Sardinian  Minister's  Chapel  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields, 
and  gutted  it :  he  saved  nothing  but  two  chalices,  lost 
the  silver  lamps,  &c,  and  the  benches,  being  tossed  in 
the  street,  were  food  for  a  bonfire,  with  the  blazing 
brands  of  which  they  set  fire  to  the  inside  of  the  chapel, 
nor,  till  the  Guards  arrived,  would  suffer  the  engines  to 
play.  The  Roman  Catholic  Chapel  in  Warwick  Street, 
Golden  Square,  shared  the  same  fate  ;  and,  "  as  the 
owner  was  a  Prince  of  Smugglers,  as  well  as  Bavarian 
Minister,  great  quantities  of  rum,  tea,  and  contraband 
goods  were  found  in  his  house." 

On  Monday  the  mob  gutted  Sir  George  Savile's  house 
in  Leicester  Fields,  burnt  all  the  furniture  and  pictures, 
but  the  building  was  saved  ;  though  the  rioters  tore 
up  the  iron  railings,  which  they  carried  off  as  weapons. 
Next  day,  they  pulled  down  Sir  John  Fielding's  house 
in  Bow  Street,  and  burnt  his  goods  in  the  street.  They 
then  went  to  Newgate,  to  demand  their  companions  who 
had  been  seized,  demolishing  a  chapel.  The  Keeper 
could  not  release  them  but  by  the  Sheriff's  permission, 
which  he  sent  to  ask.  At  his  return  he  found  all  the 
prisoners  released,  and  Newgate  in  a  blaze.  The  mob 
had  broken  the  gates  with  crows  and  other  instruments, 
and  climbed  up  the  outside  of  the  cell  which  joined  the 
two  great  wings  of  the  building,  where  the  felons  were 
confined.  They  broke  the  roof,  tore  away  the  rafters, 
descended  and  released  the  prisoners.  Crabbe,  the  poet, 
then  a  young  man  in  London,  has  described  the  scene  in 
his  journal : — "  I  stood  andjsaw,"  he  says,  "  about  twelve 


The  Riots  of  '1780.  173 

women  and  eight  men  ascend  from  their  confinement  to 
the  open  air,  and  conducted  through  the  streets  in  their 
chains.  Three  of  these  were  to  be  hanged  on  Friday. 
You  have  no  conception  of  the  phrenzy  of  the  multitude. 
Newgate  was  at  this  time  open  to  all ;  anyone  might 
get  in ;  and,  what  was  never  the  case  before,  anyone 
might  get  out." 

From  Newgate  the  mob  went  to  Bloomsbury  Square, 
pulled  down  the  house  of  the  great  Lord  Mansfield, 
and  burnt  his  library:  but  what  his  Lordship  most  re- 
gretted to  have  lost  was  a  speech  that  he  had  made  on 
the  question  of  the  privilege  of  Parliament ;  he  said  that 
it  contained  all  the  eloquence  and  all  the  law  he  was 
master  of;  that  it  was  fairly  written  out,  and  that  he 
had  no  other  copy. 

On  Wednesday,  the  rioters  broke  open  the  Fleet,  the 
King's  Bench,  and  the  Marshalsea,  and  Wood  Street 
Compter,  and  Clerkenwell  Bridewell,  and  released  all 
the  prisoners.  At  night  they  set  fire  to  the  King's 
Bench.  The  Warden  of  the  Fleet  had  been  directed 
by  the  Lord  Mayor  not  to  resist  the  mob,  which  might 
have  been  easily  dispersed  by  a  few  soldiers.  The  con- 
flagration must  here  have  been  terrible — three  sides  of 
Fleet  Market  in  flames,  besides  portions  of  Fetter  Lane 
and  Shoe  Lane.  This  was  called  the  "  fatal  day."  Mr 
Langdale,  a  wealthy  Catholic  distiller  in  Holborn,  the 
day  before  had  tried  to  appease  the  mob  by  money  and 
liquor,  but  now  they  staved  in  the  casks,  and  set  his 
premises  on  fire ;  and  many  of  the  rioters  were  killed 
by  drinking  the  spirits.  Barnard's  Inn,  adjoining  Lang- 
dale's  distillery,  was  also  fired.  Seven  distinct  confla- 
grations were  to  be  seen  at  once.  The  mob  extorted 
money  from  several  persons  and  houses,  on  threats  of 


1 74  Romance  of  L ondon. 

burning  them  as  Catholics ;  and  the  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter, who  went  disguised  in  a  hackney-coach  to  Fleet 
Market,  was  stopped  and  plundered.  This  day  a  mob 
of  5000  set  off  for  (to  sack  and  burn)  Caen  Wood  (Lord 
Mansfield's),  but  were  met  on  the  road  by  a  militia  regi- 
ment and  driven  back. 

"  On  Wednesday,"  says  Dr  Samuel  Johnson,  "  I 
walked  with  Dr  Scott  (Lord  Stowell)  to  look  at  New- 
gate, and  found  it  in  ruins,  with  the  fire  yet  glowing. 
As  I  went  by,  the  Protestants  were  plundering  the 
Session-house  at  the  Old  Bailey.  There  were  not,  I 
believe,  a  hundred  ;  but  they  did  their  work  at  leisure, 
in  full  security,  without  sentinels,  without  trepidation, 
as  men  lawfully  employed,  in  full  day."  The  Bank  was 
attempted  the  same  night ;  but  the  height  of  the  panic 
had  passed,  and  Wilkes  headed  the  party  that  drove 
them  away.  The  fires,  however,  were  still  kept  up,  and 
it  was  not  till  the  9th  that  the  city  was  free  from  out- 
rage. Eleven  thousand  troops  had  been  assembled  in 
and  near  London,  and  camps  held  in  St  James's  and 
Hyde  Parks.  The  King,  during  the  nights  of  the  riots, 
sat  up  with  several  general  officers  at  the  Queen's  riding- 
house,  whence  messengers  were  constantly  despatched 
to  report  the  movements  of  the  mob  ;  and  a  large  num- 
ber of  troops  were  in  the  Queen's  Gardens  and  around 
Buckingham  House,  where  the  King  frequently  visited 
the  Queen  and  the  royal  children.  When  he  was  told 
that  the  mob  was  attempting  to  get  into  St  James's  and 
the  Bank,  he  forbade  the  soldiers  to  fire,  but  ordered 
that  they  should  keep  off  the  rioters  with  their  bayonets. 

On  the  9th,  Lord  George  Gordon,  whose  perfect 
sanity  has  since  been  questioned,  was  arrested  by  mes- 
sengers at  his  own  house  in  Wimpole  Street ;  he  was 


Bcckford's  Monumental  Speech.  175 

examined  by  the  Council,  and  thence  committed  a  pri- 
soner to  the  Tower,  and  for  ten  days  was  not  allowed  to 
see  his  friends.  He  was  tried  for  treason  in  the  Court 
of  King's  Bench,  but,  principally  through  the  powerful 
eloquence  of  Erskine,  was  acquitted.  In  1788,  having 
been  twice  convicted  of  libel,  he  was  compelled' to  seek 
safety  in  flight;  but  being  arrested  in  Holland,  and  sent 
back  to  England,  he  was  committed  to  Newgate,  where 
he  died  Nov.  1,  1793  :  he  is  buried  in  the  cemetery  of  St 
James's  Chapel,  Hampstead  Road,  without  a  stone  to 
distinguish  the  place  of  his  interment. 

Many  persons  lost  their  lives  in  affrays  with  soldiers, 
and  in  the  havoc  and  general  confusion  of  the  tumults ; 
but  it  is  remarkable  that  although  fifty-eight  of  the 
rioters  were  condemned  to  death  by  the  Commission 
appointed  to  try  them,  only  twenty-five  of  them  actually 
suffered.  The  places  of  execution  were  selected  near  to 
the  spot  where  the  criminal's  offences  had  been  com- 
mitted— a  person  was  hanged  at  the  Old  Bailey  "for 
demolishing  the  house  of  Mr  Akerman,  Keeper  of 
Newgate."  Seven  were  hanged  in  St  George's  Fields ; 
and  on  this  site  of  the  focus  of  the  Gordon  Riots,  sixty 
years  later,  in  1840,  was  founded  the  largest  Roman 
Catholic  church  erected  in  this  country  since  the  Refor- 
mation, a  remarkable  instance  of  the  improved  tolerant 
spirit  of  the  times, 

Alderman  Beckford  and  his  Monumental 

Speech, 

Tins  celebrated  partisan,  demagogue  some  call  him, 
was  alderman  of  Billingsgate  Ward,  and  occupied  a 
prominent  position  in  city  politics,  especially  in  the  first 


1 76  Romance  of  London. 

ten  years  of  the  reign  of  George  III.     This  notoriety 
was  much  aided  by  his  connection  with  Earl  Chatham, 
who  unquestionably  used  the  alderman   as   a   sort  of 
political  tool.     Beckford  was  of  an  ancient  Gloucester- 
shire family  :  among  the  principal  adherents  of  Richard 
III.  at  Bosworth,  was  Sir  William  Beckford.     After  the 
conquest  of  Jamaica,  in  1656,  the  Beckford  family  rose 
to  high  station  and  increased  in  wealth ;  and  the  father 
of  the  Alderman,  Peter  Beckford,  was  Speaker  of  the 
House  of  Assembly  of  Jamaica.     To  his  heir,  Peter, 
succeeded  William,  of  Fonthill,  in  Wiltshire.     Here  he 
resided  in  an  old  mansion,  which  was  burnt  down  in  the 
year  1755  ;  the  loss  was  estimated  at  £30,000.     When 
this  calamity  happened,  the  Alderman  was.  in  London : 
on  being  informed  of  the  event,  he  took  out  his  pocket- 
book,  and  began  to  write.     When  asked  what  he  was 
doing,  "  Only  calculating,"  he  replied,  "the  expense  of 
rebuilding  it.     I  have  an  odd  fifty  thousand  in  a  drawer, 
and  I  will  build  it  up  again.     It  will  not  be  above  a  thou- 
sand pounds  a-piece  difference  to  my  charity  children." 
Fonthill  House  was  accordingly  rebuilt  with  fine  stone. 
It  was  a  lofty  mansion,  with  a  centre  of  four  storeys,  and 
wings  connected  by  colonnades  ;  it  was  sumptuously  fur- 
nished.    In  1770,  upon  the  death  of  the  Alderman,  his 
only  son,  the  author  of  Vathck,  succeeded  to  the  property. 
Here  he  entertained  Lord  Nelson,  and  Sir  William  and 
Lady  Hamilton,  with  great  magnificence,  in  1800;  but 
a  few  years  after,  the  mansion  was  taken  down,  when 
the  materials  alone  were  sold  for  £10,000. 

To  return  to  the  Alderman's  history.  As  early  as 
1754  he  had  obtained  some  notoriety.  Walpole  writes  : 
"  Beckford  and  Delaval,  two  celebrated  partisans,  met 
lately  at  Shaftesbury  ;  the  latter  said — 


Beckford' s  Monumental  Speech.  177 

'  Art  thou  the  man  whom  men  famed  Beckford  call  ? ' 

T'other  replied — 

'Art  thou  the  much  more  famous  Delaval? ' " 

Beckford  sat  in  Parliament  for  the  City,  and  was  twice 
Lord  Mayor  ;  he  died  of  rheumatic  fever  during  his 
second  mayoralty,  June  21,  1770.  In  the  previous 
month  he  carried  a  strong  Remonstrance  to  the  King, 
garnished  with  my  Lord  Mayor's  own  ingredients. 
"The  Court,  however,"  says  Walpole,  "  was  put  in  some 
confusion  by  my  Lord  Mayor,  who,  contrary  to  all  form 
and  precedent,  tacked  a  volunteer  speech  to  the  Remon- 
strance. It  was  wondrous  loyal  and  respectful,  but, 
being  an  innovation,  much  discomposed  the  -ceremony. 
It  is  always  usual  to  furnish  a  copy  of  what  is  to  be  said 
to  the  King,  that  he  may  be  prepared  with  his  answer. 
In  this  case  he  was  reduced  to  tuck  up  his  train,  jump 
from  the  throne,  and  take  sanctuary  in  his  closet,  or 
answer  extempore,  which  is  not  part  of  the  royal  trade, 
or  sit  silent  and  have  nothing  to  reply."  The  City,  to 
mark  their  sense  of  Beckford's  spirit,  erected  in  the 
Guildhall  a  monumental  statue  of.  the  Lord  Mayor  in 
the  act  of  addressing  the  King  ;  and,  as  an  inscription, 
is  cut  his  own  speech  to  King  George  III.,  spoken,  or 
said  to  have  been  spoken,  in  great  excitement. 

The  circumstances  are,  however,  much  disputed.  To 
explain  these,  we  must  premise  that  for  some  time  pre- 
viously "  remonstrances,"  not  always  expressed  in  very 
courteous  terms,  had  been  addressed  by  the  Corporation 
to  the  King  (George  III.)  on  the  subject  of  various 
alleged  grievances.  At  these,  the  latter,  jealous  of  the 
slightest  infringement  on  his  prerogative,  took  excessive 
umbrage,  and  replied  to  them  accordingly.     The  intcr- 

VOL.  I.  M 


173  Romance  of  London. 

ference  of  the  Government  with  an  election  for  Mid- 
dlesex was  the  occasion  for  renewed  offence;  and  the 
citizens,  as  usual,  gave  vent  to  their  feelings  in  a  "  peti- 
tion and  remonstrance."     It  was  the  King's  angry  reply- 
to  this  address  which  is  said  to  have  drawn  from  Beck- 
ford    the  famous   speech   which   is   now   engraven    on 
his  monument.     It  has  been  stoutly  disputed  whether 
Beckford  actually  did  address  George  III.  in  the  words 
written  down  in  history  for  him,  and  which  also  appear 
on  his  monument  in  Guildhall.     These  words,  besides 
being  recorded  in  marble,  appear  also  in  the  minutes 
of  the  Common  Council  of  the  day  on  which  they  are 
stated  to  have  been  uttered  ;  still,  there  has  long  been  a 
tradition  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Guildhall,  that  Home 
Tooke,  who  wrote  them  for  Beckford,  tampered  with 
the  minute-books  in  the  Town-clerk's  office,  and,inserted 
what  was  intended  to  have  been  spoken  by  Beckford, 
had  his  Majesty  given  him  the  opportunity.     Mr  Peter 
Cunningham  first  embodied  that  doubt  in  a  communi- 
cation to  the  Times  ;  and,  since  then,  in  his  new  edition 
of  Horace   Walpoles  Letters,  he  has  strengthened  the 
statement  by   some  contemporary  authorities   bearing 
on  the  subject.     His  note,  in  vol.  v.  p.  238,  is  as  follows  : 
— "  The  speech  here  alluded  to   is  the  one  which  the 
Alderman  addressed  to  his  Majesty,  on  the  23d  of  May, 
with  reference  to  the  King's  reply,  that  '  he  should  have 
been  wanting  to  the  public,  as  well  as  to  himself,  if  he 
had  not  expressed  his  dissatisfaction  at  the  late  address.' 
At  the  end  of  the  Alderman's  speech,  in  his  copy  of  the 
City  Addresses,  Mr  Isaac  Reed  has  inserted  the  follow- 
ing note : — '  It  is  a  curious  fact,  but  a  true  one,  that 
Beckford  did  not  utter  one  syllable  of  this  speech.     It 
was  penned  by  Home  Tooke,  and  by  his  art  put  on  the 


Beckford'' s  Monumental  Speech.  179 

records  of  the  City,  and  on  Beckford's  statue;  as  he 
told  me,  Mr  Braithwaite,  Mr  Sayers,  &c.,  at  the  Athe- 
nian Club. — Isaac  Reed'  There  can  be  little  doubt  that 
the  worthy  commentator  and  his  friends  were  imposed 
upon."  In  the  Chatham  Correspondence,  vol.  iii.  p.  460, 
a  letter  from  Sheriff  Townsend  to  the  Earl  expressly 
states,  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  words  "  and 
necessary"  being  left  out  before  the  word  "  revolution," 
the  Lord  Mayor's  speech,  in  the  Public  Advertiser  of  the 
preceding  day,  is  verbatim  the  one  delivered  to  the 
King.  ( Wright.)  Gifford  says  (Ben  Jonson,  vi.  481)  that 
Beckford  never  uttered  before  the  King  one  syllable  of 
the  speech  upon  his  monument — and  Gifford's  statement 
is  fully  confirmed  both  by  Isaac  Reed  (as  above),  and 
by  Maltby,  the  friend  of  Rogers  and  Home  Tooke. 
Beckford  made  a  "  Remonstrance  Speech"  to  the  King; 
but  the  speech  on  Beckford's  monument  is  the  after- 
speech  written  for  Beckford  by  Home  Tooke. — See 
Mitford's  Gray  and  Mason  Correspondence,  pp.  438,  439. 
— Cu  n  n  ingham. 

Beckford's  mansion  in  Soho  Square,  at  the  corner  of 
Greek  Street,  was,  in  1863,  sold  for  £6400  to  the  House 
of  Charity.  It  had  long  been  the  office  of  the  old  Com- 
missioners of  Sewers,  and  was  subsequently  occupied 
by  the  Board  of  Works.  The  interior  has  some  well- 
designed  chimney-pieces,  architraves,  door  and  window 
dressings,  which  are  bold  and  characteristic  specimens 
of  the  time.  To  keep  alive  his  influence  with  the  City, 
Lord  Chatham  maintained  a  correspondence  with  Beck- 
ford ;  and  Walpole  states  that  the  day  before  .the  Alder- 
man died,  Chatham  "  forced  himself  into  the  house,  and 
got  away  all  the  letters  he  had  written  to  that  dema- 
gogue."    About   two    months   before   the   Alderman's 


i8o  Romance  of  London. 

death,  in  the  days  of  "  Wilkes  and  Liberty,"  Walpole 
notes  : — "  The  Lord  Mayor  had  enjoined  tranquillity — 
as  Mayor.  As  Beckford,  his  own  house,  in  Soho  Square, 
was  embroidered  (illuminated)  with  '  Liberty '  in  white 
letters  three  feet  high." 

Beckford's  only  son,  and  heir  to  his  enormous  fortune, 
Lord  Chatham's  godchild,  was,  at  the  period  of  his 
father's  death,  a  boy  ten  years  of  age.  Three  years  later, 
Lord  Chatham  thus  describes  him  to  his  own  son  Wil- 
liam : — "  Little  Beckford  is  just  as  much  compounded 
of  the  elements  of  air  and  fire  as  he  was.  A  due  pro- 
portion of  terrestrial  solidity  will,  I  trust,  come  and 
make  him  perfect."  "  He  was  afterwards,"  says  Lord 
Mahon,  "  well  known  in  a  sphere  totally  different  from 
his  father's — the  author  of  Vathek — the  fastidious  man 
of  taste — the  fantastic  decorator  of  Ramalhao  and 
Fonthill."  It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  right  pro- 
portion of  "terrestrial  solidity"  ever  came.  He  died  in 
1844,  in  his  eighty-fourth  year,  and  is  enshrined  in  a 
pink  granite  sarcophagus. 

Royalty  Deduced  from  a  Tub- Woman. 

In  1768,  there  appeared  in  the  newspapers  the  following 
paragraph  : — "  During  the  troubles  of  the  reign  of 
Charles  I.,  a  country  girl  came  to  London  in  search  of  a 
place ;  but  not  succeeding,  she  applied  to  be  allowed  to 
carry  out  beer  from  a  brewhouse.  These  women  were 
then  called  tub-zvomcn.  The  brewer,  observing  her  to 
be  a  very  good-looking  girl,  took  her  from  this  low 
situation  into  his  house,  and  afterwards  married  her ; 
and  while  she  was  yet  a  young  woman,  he  died,  and 
left  her  a  large  fortune.     She  was  recommended,  on 


Unfortunate  Baronets.  1 8 1 

giving  up  the  brewer)'-,  to  Mr  Hyde,  a  most  able  lawyer, 
to  settle  her  husband's  affairs  ;  he,  in  process  of  time, 
married  the  widow,  and  was  made  Earl  of  Clarendon. 
Of  this  marriage  there  was  a  daughter,  who  was  after- 
wards wife  to  James  II.,  and  mother  of  Mary  and  Artne, 
queens  of  England."  This  statement  was  answered  by 
a  letter  in  the  London  Chronicle,  December  20,  1768, 
proving  that  "  Lord  Clarendon  married  Frances,  the 
daughter  of  Sir  Tfiomas  Aylesbury,  knight  and  baronet, 
one  of  the  Masters  of  Request  to  King  Charles  I.,  by 
whom  he  had  four  sons — viz.,  Henry,  afterwards  Earl  of 
Clarendon  ;  Lawrence,  afterwards  Earl  of  Rochester ; 
Edward,  who  died  unmarried ;  and  James,  drowned  on 
board  the  Gloucester  frigate  :  also  two  daughters — Anne, 
married  to  the  Duke  of  York  ;  and  Frances,  married  to 
Thomas  Keightley,  of  Hertingfordbury,  in  the  county  pf 
Herts,  Esq."  This  story  appears  to  have  been  a  piece  of 
political  scandal.  The  mother  of  the  Protector,  Oliver 
Cromwell,  is  said  to  have  conducted  with  great  ability 
the  affairs  of  her  husband's  brewhouse  at  Huntingdon. 
This  some  republican  spirit  appears  to  have  thought  an 
indignity ;  so,  by  way  of  retaliation,  he  determined  on 
sinking  the  origin  of  the  inheritors  of  the  Crown  to  the 
lowest  possible  grade — that  of  a  tub-woman  ! 

The  same  story  has  been  told  of  the  wife  of  Sir 
Thomas  Aylesbury,  great-grandmother  of  the  two 
queens  ;  and,  for  anything  we  know  yet  of  her  family,  it 
may  be  quite  true. 

Unfortunate  Baronets. 

The  story  of  the  Gargraves — for  two  centuries  or  more 
a  family   of  the   highest   position   in   Yorkshire — is   a 


iS2  Romance  of  London. 

melancholy  chapter  in  the  romance  of  real  life.  Its 
chiefs  earned  distinction  in  peace  and  war  ;  one  died  in 
France,  Master  of  the  Ordnance  to  King  Henry  V.  ; 
another,  a  soldier  too,  fell  with  Salisbury  at  the  siege  of 
Orleans  ;  and  a  third  filled  the  Speaker's  chair  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  What  an  awful  contrast  to  this 
fair  picture  does  the  sequel  offer  !  Thomas  Gargrave,  the 
Speaker's  eldest  son,  was  hung  at  York  for  murder  ;  and 
his  half-brother,  Sir  Richard,  having  wasted  a  splendid 
estate,  was  reduced  to  abject  want.  At  Doncaster,  his 
excesses  are  still  the  subject  of  traditional  story,  and  his 
love  of  gaming  is  commemorated  in  an  old  painting, 
long  preserved  in  the  mansion  at  Badsworth,  in  which 
he  is  represented  playing  at  the  old  game  of  "shot," 
the  right  hand  against  the  left,  for  the  stake  of  a  cup  of 
ale.  The  close  of  Sir  Richard's  story  is  as  lamentable 
as  its  course.  An  utter  bankrupt  in  means  and  reputa- 
tion, he  is  stated  to  have  been  reduced  to  travel  with  the 
pack-horses  to  London,  and  was  at  last  found  dead  in  an 
old  hostelry  ! 

A  similarly  melancholy  narrative  applies  to  another 
great  Yorkshire  house.  Sir  William  Reresby,  baronet, 
son  and  heir  to  the  celebrated  author,  succeeded,  at  the 
death  of  his  father,  in  1689,  to  the  beautiful  estate  of 
Thryberg,  in  Yorkshire,  where  his  ancestors  had  been 
seated  uninterruptedly  from  the  time  of  the  Conquest, 
and  he  lived  to  see  himself  denuded  of  every  acre  of  his 
broad  lands.  Le  Neve,  in  the  MSS.  preserved  in  the 
Herald's  College,  states  that  he  became  a  tapster  in  the 
King's  Bench  Prison,  and  was  tried  and  imprisoned  for 
cheating  in  171 1.  He  died  in  great  obscurity.  Gaming 
was  among  Sir  William's  follies — particularly  cock- 
fighting.     The  tradition  at  Thryberg  is  (for  his  name  is 


The  Victory  of  Cullodai.  183 

not  quite  forgotten),  that  the  fine  estate  of  Dennaby  was 
staked  and  lost  on  a  single  main. 

Sir  William  Reresby  was  not  the  only  baronet  who 
disgraced  his  order  at  that  period.  In  1722,  Sir  Charles 
Burton  was  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey  for  stealing  a  seal ; 
pleaded  poverty,  but  was  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to 
transportation,  which  sentence  was  afterwards  commuted 
for  a  milder  punishment. 

The  Victory  of  Cullorfen. 

Great  were  the  faint-heartedness  which  seized  almost 
all  the  loyal  part  of  the  country,  and  the  folly  and  con- 
fusion which  reigned,  when  Prince  Charles  was  making 
his  way  to  Edinburgh,  and  on  from  Edinburgh  to  the 
South.  Jupiter  Carlyle  was  with  Smollett  in  the  British 
Coffee-house,  a  great  place  of  resort  for  Scotchmen, 
when  the  news  of  the  victory  of  Culloden,  which  put  an 
end  to  so  much  disgrace,  came  to  London.  Smollett 
then  lived  in  Mayfair,  and  Carlyle  had  to  take  supper 
in  New  Bond  Street,  and  they  went  very  cautiously 
through  the  streets  of  uproarious  London  to  their  desti- 
nations. The  mobs  were  riotous,  the  squibs  were  flying, 
and  the  two  canny  Scots  retired  into  a  narrow  entry  to 
pocket  their  wigs  lest  they  should  be  burnt,  and  to  draw 
their  swords  lest  they  should  be  attacked.  Smollett 
went  further,  and  cautioned  Carlyle  not  to  open  his 
mouth  lest  he  should  betray  his  country,  and  excite  the 
insolence  of  the  mob  against  the  Scotch  marauders; 
"  for  John  Bull,"  said  he,  "  is  as  haughty  and  valiant  to- 
night as  he  was  as  abject  and  cowardly  on  the  Black 
Wednesday  when  the  Highlanders  were  at  Derby." 
After  the  trembling  pair  got  to  the  top  of  the  Hay- 


1 84  Romance  of  London. 

market,  through  an  incessant  fire  of  squibs,  they  took  to 
the  narrow  lanes,  and  met  nobody  but  a  few  boys  at  a 
pitiful  bonfire,  to  which  they  contributed  sixpence  in 
grateful  memory  of  the  singeing  which  their  wigs  had 
escaped  from  an  infuriated  mob. 

Cumberland  Gate,  Hyde  Park,  and  Great  Cumber- 
land Street,  were  named  after  the  hero  of  Culloden.  In 
the  latter  street  is  a  public-house,  with  a  full-length  por- 
trait of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  for  its  sign.  Horace 
Walpole  has  an  excellent  reflection  upon  this  sort  of 
celebrity.  "I  was  yesterday,"  he  writes,  in  1747,  "out 
of  town,  and  the  very  signs  as  I  passed  through  the  vil- 
lages led  me  to  some  quaint  reflections  on  the  mortality 
of  fame  and  popularity.  I  observed  how  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland's  head  had  succeeded  almost  universally  to 
Admiral  Vernon's,  as  his  head  had  left  few  traces  of  the 
Duke  of  Ormond's.  I  pondered  these  things  in  my  heart, 
and  said  unto  myself,  '  Surely,  all  glory  is  but  a  sign  1" 

Stiicide  of  Lord  Clive. 

As  the  reflective  lover  of  the  metropolis  walks  upon  the 
west  side  of  Berkeley  Square,  he  may  be  reminded  that 
in  the  house,  No.  45,  the  great  Lord  Clive  put  an  end 
to  himself — with  a  razor,  some  say  with  a  penknife — on 
the  22d  of  November  1774,  having  just  completed  his 
forty-ninth  year. 

Walpole  relates  the  catastrophe,  with  a  difference. 
Writing  from  Arlington  Street,  November  23,  he  says : 
"  The  nation  had  another  great  loss  last  night — Lord 
Clive  went  off  suddenly.  He  had  been  sent  for  to  town 
by  some  of  his  Indian  friends — and  died.  .  .  .  Lord 
H.  has  just  been  here,  and  told  me  the  manner  of  Lord 


Suicide  of  L ord  Clive.  1 8  5 

dive's  death.  Whatever  had  happened,  it  had  flung 
him  into  convulsions,  to  which  he  was  very  subject.  Dr 
Fothergill  gave  him,  as  he  had  done  on  like  occasions,  a 
dose  of  laudanum  ;  but  the  pain  in  his  bowels  was  so 
violent,  that  he  asked  for  a  second  dose.  Dr  Fother- 
gill said,  'if  he  took  another,  he  would  be  dead  in  an 
hour.'  The  moment  Fothergill  was  gone,  he  swallowed 
another,  for  another,  it  seems,  stood  by  him,  and  he  is 
dead."  In  his  next  letter,  Nov.  24,  Walpole  writes : 
"  A  great  event  happened  two  days  ago, — a  political  and 
moral  event, — the  sudden  death  of  that  second  Kouli 
Khan,  Lord  Clive.  There  was,  certainly,  illness  in  the 
case ;  the  world  thinks  more  than  illness.  His  constitution 
was  exceedingly  broken  and  disordered,  and  grown  sub- 
ject to  violent  pains  and  convulsions.  He  came  unex- 
pectedly to  town  last  Monday,  and  they  say,  ill.  On 
Tuesday,  his  physician  gave  him  a  dose  of  laudanum, 
which  had  not  the  desired  effect.  Of  the  rest,  there  are 
two  stories  :  one,  that  the  physician  repeated  the  dose ; 
the  other,  that  he  doubled  it  himself,  contrary  to  advice. 
In  short,  he  has  terminated  a  life  at  fifty  of  so  much 
glory,  reproach,  art,  wealth,  and  ostentation !  He  had 
just  named  ten  members  for  the  new  Parliament." 

Thus  fell  the  founder  of  the  British  Empire  in  India. 
Some  lineaments  of  the  character  of  the  man  (says  Lord 
Macaulay)  were  very  early  discerned  in  the  child.  Let- 
ters written  by  him  in  his  seventh  year  indicate  his 
strong  will  and  fiery  passions,  sustained  by  a  constitu- 
tional intrepidity  which  sometimes  seemed  hardly  com- 
patible with  soundness  of  mind.  "  Fighting,"  says  one 
of  his  uncles,  "to  which  he  is  out  of  measure  addicted, 
gives  his  temper  such  a  fierceness  and  imperiousness, 
that  he  flies  to  it  on  every  trifling  occasion." 


1 8 6  Romance  of  L ondon. 

At  the  period  of  his  death,  Clive  appeared  secure  in 
the  enjoyment  of  his  fortune  and  his  honours.  "  He 
was  surrounded,"  says  Macaulay,  "by  attached  friends 
and  relations  ;  and  he  had  not  yet  passed  the  season  of 
vigorous  bodily  and  mental  exertion.  But  clouds  had 
long  been  gathering  over  his  mind,  and  now  settled  on 
it  in  thick  darkness.  From  early  youth  he  had  been 
subject  to  fits  of  that  strange  melancholy  'which  re- 
joiceth  exceedingly,  and  is  glad  when  it  can  find  the 
grave.'  While  still  a  writer  at  Madras,  he  had  twice 
attempted  to  destroy  himself.  Business  and  prosperity 
had  produced  a  salutary  effect  on  his  spirits.  In  India, 
while  he  was  occupied  with  great  affairs,  in  England, 
while  wealth  and  rank  had  still  the  charm  of  novelty, 
he  had  borne  up  against  it.  He  had  now  nothing  to  do, 
and  nothing  to  wish  for.  His  active  spirit  in  an  inactive 
situation  drooped  and  withered  like  a  plant  in  an  un- 
congenial air.  The  malignity  with  which  his  enemies 
had  pursued  him,  the  indignity  with  which  he  had  been 
treated  by  the  committee,  the  censure,  lenient  as  it  was, 
which  the  House  of  Commons  had  pronounced,  the 
knowledge  that  he  was  regarded  by  a  large  portion  of 
his  countrymen  as  a  cruel  and  perfidious  tyrant,  all  con- 
curred to  irritate  and  depress  him.  In  the  meantime, 
his  temper  was  tried  by  acute  physical  suffering.  Dur- 
ing his  long  residence  in  tropical  climates,  he  had  con- 
tracted several  painful  distempers.  In  order  to  obtain 
ease,  he  called  in  the  help  of  opium  ;  and  he  was  gra- 
dually enslaved  by  this  treacherous  ally.  To  the  last, 
however,  his  genius  occasionally  flashed  through  the 
gloom.  It  was  said  that  he  would  sometimes,  after 
sitting  silent  and  torpid  for  hours,  rouse  himself  to  the 
discussion   of  some  great  question,  would  display  full 


Funeral  of  Nelson.  I  Sy 

vigour  in  all  the  talents  of  the  soldier  and  the  states- 
man,  and  then  would  sink  back  into  his  melancholy- 
repose.        ...... 

In  his  death,  "  the  awful  close  of  so  much  prosperity 
and  glory,  the  vulgar  saw  only  a  confirmation  of  all 
their  prejudices  ;  and  some  men  of  real  piety  and  genius 
so  far  forgot  the  maxims  both  of  religion  and  of  philo- 
sophy, as  confidently  to  ascribe  the  mournful  event  to 
the  just  vengeance  of  God,  and  to  the  horrors  of  an  evil 
conscience.  It  is  with  very  different  feelings  that  we 
contemplate  the  spectacle  of  a  great  mind  ruined  by  the 
weariness  of  satiety,  by  the  pangs  of  wounded  honour, 
by  fatal  diseases,  and  more  fatal  remedies." 

He  made  magnificent  presents — even  to  Royalty. 
Walpole  tells  us,  in  1767,  "Lord  Clive  is  arrived,  has 
brought  a  million  for  himself,  two  diamond  drops,  worth 
£12,000,  for  the  Queen;  a  scimitar,  dagger,  and  other 
matters,  covered  with  brilliants,  for  the  King,  and  worth 
£20,000  more.  These  dandles  are  presents  from  the 
deposed  and  imprisoned  Mogul,  whose  poverty  can  still 
afford  to  give  him  such  bribes.  Lord  Clive  refused  some 
overplus,  and  gave  it  to  some  widows  of  officers  :  it 
amounted  to  £90,000." 

Funeral  of  Nelson. 

The  Victory,  with  the  remains  of  our  greatest  naval 
hero,  arrived  at  Sheerness,  Sunday,  December  25,  1805. 
On  the  following  morning,  the  body  was  placed  on 
board  the  Chatham  yacht,  proceeding  on  her  way  to 
Greenwich.  The  coffin,  covered  with  an  ensign,  was 
placed  on  deck.     Tuesday,  she  arrived  at  Greenwich ; 


1 8  8  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

the  body,  still  being  in  the  coffin  made  of  the  wreck  of 
V Orient,  was  then  enveloped  in  the  colours  of  the  Vic- 
tory, bound  round  by  a  piece  of  rope,  and  carried  by 
sailors,  part  of  the  crew  of  the  Victory,  to  the  Painted 
Hall,  where  preparations  were  made  for  the  lying -in- 
state on  January  5,  6,  and  7,  1806. 

On  January  8,  the  first  day's  procession  by  water  took 
place,  and  the  remains  were  removed  from  Greenwich  to 
Whitehall,  and  from  thence  to  the  Admiralty,  with  great 
pomp  and  solemnity.  The  procession  of  barges  was 
nearly  a  mile  long,  and  minute  guns  were  fired  during 
its  progress.*  The  banner  of  emblems  was  borne  by 
Captain  Hardy,  Lord  Nelson's  captain.  The  body  was 
deposited  that  night  in  the  captain's  room  at  the  Ad- 
miralty, and  attended  by  the  Rev.  John  Scott :  it  is  the 
room  to  the  left,  as  you  enter  the  hall. 

On  Thursday,  January  9,  the  procession  from  the 
Admiralty  to  St  Paul's  moved  forward  about  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning ;  the  first  part  consisting  of 
cavalry  regiments,  regimental  bands  with  muffled  drums, 
Greenwich  pensioners,  seamen  from  the  Victory,  about 
200  mourning  coaches,  400  carriages  of  public  officers, 
nobility,  &c,  including  those  of  the  Royal  Family,  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Clarence,  &c,  taking  part  in 
the  procession.  The  body,  upon  a  funeral  car,  was  , 
drawn  by  six  led  horses.  The  military  force  numbered 
nearly  Sooo  men.  At  Temple  Bar,  the  City  officers  took 
their  place  in  the  procession.  Upon  arriving  at  the 
Cathedral,  they  entered  by  the  west  gate  and  the  great 

*  The  Author  of  the  present  volume,  then  4  years  5  months  old,  has 
a  distinct  recollection  of  seeing  this  water  procession,  for  which  he  was 
held  up  by  a  nurse,  at  the  back  window  of  a  house,  two  doors  from  the 
south  foot  of  London  Bridge,  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  river. 


Funeral  of  Nelson.  1 89 

west  door  (fronting  Ludgate  Street),  ranging  themselves 
according  to  their  ranks.  The  seats  were  placed  under 
the  dome,  in  each  archway,  in  front  of  the  piers,  and  in 
the  gallery  over  the  choir.  The  seats  beneath  the  dome 
took  the  shape  of  the  dome,  and  held  3056  persons  : 
from  the  dome  to  the  great  west  door,  behind  an  iron 
railing,  persons  were  allowed  to  stand.  The  body 
was  placed  on  a  bier,  erected  on  a  raised  platform, 
opposite  the  eagle  lectern.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
service  in  the  choir,  a  procession  was  formed  to  the 
grave,  with  banners,  &c.  The  interment  being  over, 
Garter  proclaimed  the  style ;  and  the  comptroller,  trea- 
surer, and  steward  of  the  deceased,  breaking  their  staves, 
gave  the  pieces  to  Garter,  who  threw  them  into  the 
grave.  The  procession,  arranged  by  the  officers  of  arms, 
then  returned. 

For  a  few  days  the  public  were  admitted  by  a  shilling 
fee,  and  allowed  to  enter  the  enclosed  spot,  directly  over 
the  body,  looking  down  about  ten  feet,  and  were  grati- 
fied with  a  sight  of  the  coffin  in  the  crypt,  placed  upon  a 
platform  covered  with  black  cloth.  Upon  this  spot  was 
subsequently  erected  an  altar-tomb,  upon  which  was 
placed  the  coffin,  within  a  black  marble  sarcophagus, 
originally  made  by  order  of  Cardinal  Wolsey,  but  left 
unused  in  the  tomb-house  adjoining  St  George's  Chapel, 
Windsor.  It  is  surrounded  with  a  viscount's  coronet 
upon  a  cushion  ;  on  the  pedestal  is  inscribed  "  Nelson." 
The  remains  and  the  tomb  have  been  removed  a  short 
distance  ;  and  upon  the  spot  has  been  placed  the  granite 
sarcophagus  containing  the  remains  of  the  great  Duke  of 
Wellington. 

Nelson's  flag  was  to  have  been  placed  within  his 
coffin,  but  just  as  it  was  about  to  be  lowered  for  that 


190  Romance  of  London. 

purpose,  the  sailors  who  assisted  at  the  ceremony,  with 
one  accord,  rent  it  in  pieces,  that  each  might  preserve  a 
fragment  while  he  lived.  The  leaden  coffin  in  which  the 
remains  had  been  brought  home,  was,  in  like  manner, 
cut  in  pieces,  which  were  distributed  as  "  relics  of  Saint 
Nelson  " — as  the  gunner  of  the  Victory  called  them. . 

• 

Lord  CastlereagJis  Blunders. 

CASTLEREAGH  was  the  most  inelegant  rhetorician  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  He  possessed  unquestionably  very 
considerable  power  of  mind.  An  excellent  judge,  him- 
self one  of  the  most  skilful  of  living  debaters,  and  who 
sat  with  Castlereagh  in  the  House  of  Commons,  has  said 
that  he  often  pursued  his  object  in  debate  with  striking 
discernment  and  sagacity.  But,  in  doing  this,  he  blun- 
dered through  every  conceivable  confusion  of  metaphor. 
He  would  often  hesitate,  often  seem  confused,  often 
express  himself  by  some  strange  Irishism  that  became 
the  ridicule  of  his  opponents  ;  but  he  seldom  lost  the 
thread  of  his  argument,  or  delivered  a  speech  that  was 
logically  inconsequential. 

It  was  a  strange  instance  of  the  feebleness  of  rhetoric 
against  the  strength  of  rotten  burghs,  that  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  country  was  so  long  represented,  in  the  most 
polished  assembly  of  Europe,  by  a  man  who  could  not 
speak  in  debate  with  the  signs  of  education  which  almost 
any  gentleman  would  evince  in  his  conversation.  When 
Lord  Castlereagh  said,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  that 
"  he  would  then  embark  into  the  feature  on  which  the 
proposition  before  him  mainly  hinged,"  there  is  no 
wonder  that  Tom  Moore  asked  what  were  the  features  of 
a  gate  ?     When  he  commenced  a  reply  to  an  inquiry — 


Accession  of  Queen  Victoria.,  191 

if  he  really  said  as  was  reported — touching  a  resolution 
of  the  Allies  at  Vienna,  with  the  words,  "  I  and  the  other 
Sovereigns  of  Europe,"  the  House  must  have  laughed  at 
the  awkward  slip  which  let  fall  the  conviction,  no  doubt 
justly 'resting  on  his  mind,  that  he  had  been  on  an 
equality  at  Vienna  with  every  crowned  head.  It  was 
the  custom  and  delight  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh  to 
•  record  every  inelegant  phrase  as  it  dropped  from  Castle- 
reagh's  mouth,  in  a  little  book  which  was  ever  in  his 
pocket  as  he  went  down  to  the  House.  This  little  book, 
an  hour  or  two  later,  was  reproduced  at  many  a  Whig 
dinner-table.  "What  do  you  think  Castlereagh  has 
been  saying  just  now?"  Mackintosh  would  ask,  almost 
before  shaking  hands  with  his  host  and  hostess,  as  he 
drew  the  little  book  out  of  his  pocket-;  and  all  conver- 
sation was  suspended  to  hear  the  best  joke  of  the 
evening.  We  know  not  what  Sir  James  Macintosh's 
literary  executors  did  with  that  little  book  ;  but  if  they 
destroyed  it,  they  have  certainly  incurred  the  penalties 
of  a  high  breach  of  trust. 


■fc>* 


Accession  of  Queen  Victoria. 

In  the  Diaries  of  a  Lady  of  Quality,  we  find  the  follow- 
ing very  interesting  entry  : — 

"  June  1837. — On  Monday  we  were  listening  all  day 
for  the  tolling  of  the  bells,  watching  whether  the  guests 
were  going  to  the  Waterloo  dinner  at  Apsley  House. 
On  Tuesday,  at  2\  a.m.,  the  scene  closed,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  Lord 
Conyngham,  the  Chamberlain,  set  out  to  announce  the 
event  to  their  young  Sovereign.  They  reached  Ken- 
sington Palace  at  about  five  ;  they  knocked,  they  rang, 


1 9  2  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

they  thumped  for  a  considerable  time  before  they  could 
rouse  the  porter  at  the  gates  ;  they  were  again  kept 
waiting  in  the  courtyard,  then  turned  into  one  of  the 
lower  rooms,  where  they  seemed  forgotten  by  everybody. 
They  rang  the  bell,  desired  that  the  attendant  of  the 
Princess  Victoria  might  be  sent  to  inform  H.R.H.  that 
they  requested  an  audience  on  business  of  importance. 
After  another  delay,  and  another  ringing  to  inquire  the 
cause,  the  attendant  was  summoned,  who  stated  that  the 
Princess  was  in  such  a  sweet  sleep  she  could  not  venture 
to  disturb  her.  Then  they  said,  '  We  are  come  to  the 
Quccji  on  business  of  state,  and  even  her  sleep  must  give 
way  to  that.'  It  did  :  and  to  prove  that  she  did  not  keep 
them  waiting,  in  a  few  minutes  she  came  into  the  room 
in  a  loose  white  nightgown  and  shawl,  her  nightcap 
thrown  off,  and  her  hair  falling  upon  her  shoulders — her 
feet  in  slippers,  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  perfectly  collected 
and  dignified. 

"  The  first  act  of  the  reign  was  of  course  the  sum- 
moning the  Council,  and  most  of  the  summonses  were 
not  received  till  after  the  early  hour  fixed  for  its  meeting. 
The  Queen  was,  upon  the  opening  of  the  doors,  found 
sitting  at  the  head  of  the  table.  She  received  first  the 
homage  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  who,  I  suppose, 
was  not  King  of  Hanover  when  he  knelt  to  her ;  the 
Duke  of  Sussex  rose  to  perform  the  same  ceremony, 
but  the  Queen,  with  admirable  grace,  stood  up,  and, 
preventing  him  from  kneeling,  kissed  him  on  the  fore- 
head. The  crowd  was  so  great,  the  arrangements  were  so 
ill-made,  that  my  brothers  told  me  the  scene  of  swearing 
allegiance  to  their  young  Sovereign  was  more  like  that  of 
the  bidding  at  an  auction  than  anything  else."  [Sir  David 
Wilkie  has  painted  the  scene — but  with  a  difference.] 


The  Royal  Exchange  Motto.  193 


The  Royal  Exchange  Motto. 

VARIOUS  statements  have  been  made  regarding  the 
origin  and  cause  of  placing  the  motto  on  the  pediment 
of  the  Royal  Exchange,  London, — "  The  earth  is  the 
Lord's,  and  the  fulness  thereof," — the  general  impres- 
sion being  that  it  was  suggested  by  the  late  Prince 
Consort.  Mr  Tite,  M.P.,  architect  of  the  Exchange,  thus 
explains  the  matter:— "As  the  work  (the  building  of 
the  Exchange)  proceeded,  his  Royal  Highness  took 
much  interest  in  the  modelling  and  carving  of  the 
various  groups,  and  condescended  very  frequently  to 
visit  the  studio  of  the  sculptor  in  Wilton  Place.  The 
reader  may  recollect  that  the  figure  of  Commerce  stands 
on  an  elevated  block  or  pedestal  in  the  centre  of  the 
group,  and  it  became  a  subject  of  earnest  consideration 
with  Mr  Westmacott  and  myself  in  what  way  the  plain- 
ness of  this  block  could  be  relieved  ;  for  although  in  the 
original  model,  on  a  small  scale,  this  defect  did  not 
strike  the  eye,  yet  in  the  execution  it  was  very  apparent. 
Wreaths,  fasces,  festoons,  were  all  tried,  but  the  effect 
was  unsatisfactory  ;  and  in  this  state  of  affairs  Mr  West- 
macott submitted  the  difficulty  to  his  Royal  Highness. 
After  a  little  delay,  Prince  Albert  suggested  that  the 
pedestal  in  question  would  be  a  very  appropriate  situa- 
tion for  a  religious  inscription,  which  would  relieve  the 
plainness  of  the  surface,  in  an  artistic  point  of  view,  and 
at  the  same  time  have  the  higher  merit  of  exhibiting 
the  devotional  feelings  of  the  people  and  their  recog- 
nition of  a  superior  Power  ;  and  he  particularly  wished 
that  such  inscription  should  be  in  English,  so  as  to  be 
intelligible  to  all.  This  happy  thought  put  an  end  to 
VOL.  i.  n 


1 94  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

all  difficulty ;  and  as  Dr  Milman,  the  learned  Dean  of 
St  Paul's,  had  kindly  advised  me  in  reference  to  the 
Latin  inscriptions  on  the  frieze  and  in  the  Merchants' 
Area,  Mr  Westmacott  consulted  him  on  this  subject 
also;  and  he  suggested  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  which 
were  at  once  adopted." 

London  Residence  of  the  Emperor  of  the 
French  in  1847-8. 

On  the  north  side  of  King  Street,  leading  from  St 
James's  Square,  are  three  or  four  newly-built  houses 
of  handsome  Italian  style,  which  form  an  agreeable 
contrast  with  the  plain  dingy-looking  edifices  adjoining. 
The  house  most  to  the  west  of  this  short  row  is  destined 
to  be  for  future  time  one  of  the  places  of  mark  in  the 
metropolis  ;  for  here,  for  some  time,  resided,  in  com- 
paratively humble  circumstances,  the  remarkable  man 
who,  for  twenty  years,  held  the  power  of  benefiting  not 
merely  France,  but  the  whole  of  Europe.  It  is  curious 
to  contrast  the  position  of  Louis  Napoleon  at  that  time 
with  the  lofty  position  he  afterwards  attained,  treated 
as  he  was  with  marked  coldness  by  the  English  aris- 
tocracy, and  abused  and  ridiculed  by  the  chief  of  the 
press  ;  there  were,  however,  the  Count  d'Orsay  and 
others  who  knew  him  well — who  had  faith  in  the  man, 
and  dared  to  say  that  all  he  required  was  opportunity. 
It  was  when  a  resident  in  this  house  that  the  Prince  was 
sworn  in  as  one  of  the  150,000  special  constables  who 
came  forward  in  1848  to  prevent  the  dreaded  onslaught 
of  the  Chartist  rioters. 

On  the  outbreak  of  the  last  French  revolution,  Louis 
Napoleon  left  London  for  Paris,  and  addressed  a  letter 


Residence  of  the  French  Emperor  in  1847-8.       195 

to  the  Provisional  Government  of  France  to  the  follow- 
ing effect  : — 

"At  the  very  moment  of  the  victory  of  the  people, 
I  went  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  The  duty  of  every  good 
citizen  is  to  assemble  around  the  Provisional  Govern- 
ment of  the  Republic.  I  consider  it  the  first  duty  to  be 
discharged,  and  shall  be  happy  if  my  patriotism  may  be 
usefully  employed. — Receive,  &c, 

"  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

"  Paris,  Feb.  26." 

On  the  28th  of  February  he  sent  a  second  letter  to 
the  Provisional  Government,  as  follows : — 

"  GENTLEMEN, — The  people  of  France  having  de- 
stroyed by  their  heroism  the  vestiges  of  foreign  invasion, 
I  hasten  from  the  land  of  exile  to  place  myself  under 
the  banner  of  the  Republic  just  proclaimed. 

"  Without  any  other  ambition  than  that  of  serving 
my  country,  I  announce  my  arrival  to  the  members  of 
the  Provisional  Government,  and  assure  them  of  my 
devotedness  to  the  cause  they  represent,  as  well  as  my 
sympathy  for  their  persons. 

"Napoleon  Louis  Bonaparte." 

The  Times  of  that  date  observed  : — "  Prince  Louis 
Napoleon  has,  we  believe,  actually  embarked  for  France, 
and  landed  at  Boulogne,  the  scene  of  his  former  foolish 
attempt.  He  declares,  however,  that  he  goes  to  France 
merely  as  a  citizen,  to  tender  his  services  to  his  country." 

The  correspondent  of  the  Times,  writing  from  Paris, 
says  : — "  All  royal  arms,  or  other  emblems  of  royalty, 
are  taken  down  or  defaced  ;  still  there  are  people  who 


1 96  Romance  of  London. 

take  it  into  their  heads  that  the  Count  de  Paris  or  the 
Duke  de  Bordeaux  have  a  chance!  Prince  Louis  Napo- 
leon's name  begins  to  be  mentioned,  and  I  have  heard 
one  cry  of  '  Vive  l'Empereur  ! ' " 

The  progress  of  Louis  Napoleon  towards  the  attain- 
ment of  supreme  power  is  so  well  known  as  to  need  no 
particular  allusion  here.  Amid  the  splendours  of  the 
Imperial  Court — amid  that  excess  of  power  which  the 
once  contemned  and  ridiculed  exile  long  wielded,  his 
former  lodgings  in  King  Street,  and  the  many  associa- 
tions connected  with  them,  were,  we  dare  say,  not  en- 
tirely forgotten.  It  is  well  known  that  when  he  returned 
to  this  country  as  an  Emperor,  to  be  greeted  with  an 
ovation  at  every  step  of  his  progress,  while  the  Imperial 
cortege  was  passing  through  St  James's  Street,  Louis 
Napoleon  particularly  directed  the  attention  of  the 
Empress  to  the  house  he  resided  in  as  %.proscrit* 

The  Chartists  in  1848. 

The  10th  of  April  1848  is  a  noted  day  in  our  political 
calendar,  from  its  presenting  a  remarkable  instance  of 
nipping  in  the  bud  apparent  danger  to  the  peace  of  the 
country,  by  means  at  once  constitutional  and  reassuring 
public  safety.  It  was  on  this  day  that  the  Chartists,  as 
they  were  called,  from  developing  their  proposed  altera- 
tions in  the  representative  system,  through  the  "People's 
Charter,"  made  in  the  metropolis  a  great  demonstration 
of  their  numbers :  thus  hinting  at  the  physical  force 
which  they  possessed,  but  probably  without  any  serious 
design  against  the  public  peace.  On  this  day  the 
Chartists  met,  about  25,000  in  number,  on  Kennington 

*  From  the  Illustrated  Times. 


The  Chartists  in  1848.  197 

Common,  whence  it  had  been  intended  to  march  in 
procession  to  the  House  of  Commons  with  the  Charter 
petition  ;  but  the  authorities  having  intimated  that  the 
procession  would  be  prevented  by  force  if  attempted, 
it  was  abandoned.  Nevertheless,  the  assembling  of  the 
<7tftfj7-politicians  from  the  north,  by  marching  through 
the  streets  to  the  place  of  meeting,  had  an  imposing 
effect.  Great  preparations  were  made  to  guard  against 
any  mischief:  the  shops  were  shut  in  the  principal 
thoroughfares;  bodies  of  horse  and  foot  police,  assisted 
by  masses  of  special  constables,  were  posted  at  the 
approaches  to  the  Thames  bridges;  a  large  force  of  the 
regular  troops  was  stationed  out  of  sight  in  convenient 
spots;  two  regiments  of  the  line  were  kept  ready  at 
Millbank  Penitentiary;  1200  infantry  at  Deptford,  and 
30  pieces  of  heavy  field-ordnance  were  ready  at  the 
Tower,  to  be  transported  by  hired  steamers  to  any  re- 
quired point.  The  meeting  was  held,  but  was  brought 
to  "a  ridiculous  issue,  by  the  unity  and  resolution  of  the 
metropolis,  backed  by  the  judicious  measures  of  the 
Government,  and  the  masterly  military  precautions  of 
the  Duke  of  Wellington." 

"  On  our  famous  10th  of  April,  his  peculiar  genius  was 
exerted  to  the  unspeakable  advantage  of  peace  and 
order.  So  effective  were  his  preparations  that  the  most 
serious  insurrection  could  have  been  successfully  en- 
countered, and  yet  every  source  of  provocation  and 
alarm  was  removed  by  the  dispositions  adopted.  No 
military  display  was  anywhere  to  be  seen.  The  troops 
and  the  cannon  were  all  at  their  posts,  but  neither  shako 
nor  bayonet  was  visible  ;  and  for  all  that  met  the  eye, 
it  might  have  been  concluded  that  the  peace  of  the 
metropolis  was   still   entrusted  to   the   keeping  of  its 


198  Romance  of  L ondon. 

own  citizens.  As  an  instance,  however,  of  his  forecast 
against  the  worst,  on  this  memorable  occasion,  it  may- 
be observed  that  orders  were  given  to  the  commissioned 
officers  of  artillery  to  take  the  discharge  of  their  pieces 
on  themselves.  The  Duke  knew  that  a  cannon-shot  too 
much  or  too  little  might  change  the  aspect  of  the  day ; 
and  he  provided,  by  these  remarkable  instructions,  both 
for  imperturbable  forbearance  as  long  as  forbearance 
was  best,  and  for  unshrinking  action  when  the  moment 
for  action  came." — Memoir ;   Times,  Sept.  15-16,  1852. 

The  Chartists'  Petition  was  presented  to  the  House 
of  Commons  on  the  above  day,  signed,  it  was  stated,  by 
5,706,000  persons". 

Apsley  House. 

This  noble  mansion,  at  Hyde  Park  Corner,  Piccadilly — 
"  No.  1,  London,"  as  the  foreigner  called  it — is  erected 
partly  upon  a  piece  of  ground  given  by  George  II.  to 
an  old  soldier  named  Allen,  whom  the  King  recognised 
as  having  served  in  the  battle  of  Dettingen.  Upon  this 
spot  Allen  built  a  tenement  in  place  of  the  apple-stall, 
which,  by  sufferance,  had  been  kept  thereon  by  his  wife; 
and  before  the  erection  of  Apsley  House,  in  1784,  this 
piece  of  ground  was  sold,  for  a  considerable  sum,  by 
Allen's  descendants,  to  Apsley,  Lord  Bathurst.  The 
maternal  apple-stall  is  shown  in  a  print,  dated  1766. 

More  celebrated,  however,  is  the  mansion  as  the  town- 
house  of  Arthur,  Duke  of  Wellington ;  and  for  the  price- 
less testimonials  which  it  contains  to  the  true  greatness 
of  that  illustrious  man.  Yet,  during  the  unhealthy 
excitement,  when  the  Reform  Bill  agitators  clung  to 
the  wheels  of  the  Lord  Mayor's  stage-coach,  as  it  rolled 


Apslcy  House.  199 

into  the  courtyard  of  St  James's,  Apsley  House  was 
attacked  by  lawless  brawlers,  who  threw  stones  at  the 
very  gallery  in  which  was  celebrated  every  year  the 
victory  which  saved  England  and  Europe !  It  was  to 
protect  his  mansion,  after  the  windows  had  been  broken 
by  the  mob,  that  the  Duke  had  affixed  the  bullet-proof 
iron  Venetian  blinds,  which  were  not  removed  during 
his  Grace's  lifetime.  "They  shall  remain  where  they 
are,"  was  his  remark,  "  as  a  monument  of  the  gullibility 
of  a  mob,  and  the  worthlessness  of  that  sort  of  popu- 
larity for  which  they  who  give  it  can  assign  no  good 
reason.  I  don't  blame  the  men  that  broke  my  windows. 
They  only  did  what  they  were  instigated  to  do  by 
others  who  ought  to  have  known  better.  But  if  any  one 
be  disposed  to  grow  giddy  with  popular  applause,  I 
think  a  glance  towards  these  iron  shutters  will  soon 
sober  him." 

Lastly,  on  fine  afternoons,  the  sun  casts  the  shadow 
of  the  Duke's  equestrian  statue  full  upon  Apsley  House, 
and  the  sombre  image  may  be  seen,  gliding  spirit-like 
over  the  front. 


|>cm:irluiblc  gitck 


Trial  by  Battle, 

In  the  year  1S18  an  appeal  was  made  to  the  Court  of 
King's  Bench  to  award  this  ancient  mode  of  trial  in  a 
case  of  murder.  The  body  of  one  Mary  Ashford  was 
found  drowned,  with  marks  of  dreadful  ill-treatment 
upon  it,  and  Abraham  Thornton  was  committed  to  take 
his  trial  for  the  murder.  The  grand  jury  found  a  true 
bill,  but,  after  a  long  and  patient  trial,  the  petty  jury 
returned  a  verdict  of  "  not  guilty."  The  country  were 
much  divided  on  the  subject ;  and  the  evidence  was  very 
contradictory  on  the  trial,  especially  as  to  time  and  dis- 
tance. Mr  Justice  Holroyd,  who  tried  the  case,  was 
satisfied  with  the  verdict.  The  poor  murdered  girl's 
relations  preferred  an  appeal,  which  involved  a  solemn 
tender  of  trial  by  battle.  It  would  be  useless  to  dwell 
on  the  arguments  used  by  the  counsel  on  either  side: 
the  court  divided  in  favour  of  the  prisoner's  claim  to  trial 
by  zvagcr  of  battle,  and  the  challenge  was  formally  given 
by  throwing  down  a  glove  upon  the  floor  of  the  court ; 
but  the  combat  did  not  take  place,  and  the  prisoner 
escaped  from  the  punishment  which,  even. on  his  own 
admission  of  guilt,  he  had  so  fully  incurred.  A  wretched 
outcast,  shunned  and  dreaded  by  all  who  knew  him,  a 
few  months  after  his  liberation,  Thornton  attempted  to 
proceed  to  America  :  the  sailors  of  the  vessel  in  which 
he  was  about  to  take  his  passage  refused  to  proceed  to 


Trial  by  Battle.  201 

sea  with  such  a  character  on  board  ;  but,  disguising  him- 
self, he  succeeded  in  a  subsequent  attempt  to  procure  a 
passage,  and  thus  relieved  this  country  of  his  presence.  In 
consequence  of  the  above  revival  of  this  barbarous  prac- 
tice, a  bill  was  brought  in  by  the  then  Attorney-General, 
and  was  passed  into  a  law,  by  which  Wager  of  Battle,  and 
all  similar  proceedings,  were  abolished  altogether. 

Mr  Hewitt,  in  his  able  work  on  Ancient  Arms  and 
Armour,  says  :  "  In  the  thirteenth  century  we  first  obtain 
a  pictorial  representation  of  the  legal  duel  or  wager  of 
battle — rude,  it  is  true,  but  curiously  confirming  the 
testimony  that  has  come  down  to  us  of  the  arms  and 
apparel  of  the  champions," — on  one  of  the  miscellaneous 
rolls  in  the  Tower,  of  the  time  of  Henry  III.  The  com- 
batants are  Walter  Blowberne  and  Haman  le  Stare,  the 
latter  being  the  vanquished  champion,  and  figuring  a 
second  time  undergoing  the  punishment  incident  to  his 
defeat — that  is,  hanging.  Both  are  armed  with  the 
quadrangular-bowed  shield  and  a  baton  headed  with  a 
double  beak ;  and  are  bareheaded,  with  cropped  hair,  in 
conformity  with  an  ordinance  of  the  camp-fight.  An 
example  agreeing  with  this  description,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  square  shield  appearing  to  be  flat  instead  of 
bowed,  occurs  on  a  tile-pavement  found,  in  1856,  within 
the  precincts  of  Chertsey  Abbey,  Surrey. 

The  legal  antiquaries  were  disappointed  of  the  rare 
spectacle  of  a  judicial  duel,  by  the  voluntary  abandon- 
ment of  the  prosecution.  A  writer  of  the  time  observed  : 
— "Should  the  duel  take  place,  it  will  be  indeed  a  singular 
sight  to  behold  the  present  venerable  and  learned  judges 
of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  clothed  in  their  full  cos- 
tume, sitting  all  day  long  in  the  open  air  in  Tothill 
Fields,  as  the  umpires  of  a  match  at  single-stick.  Nor 
will  a  less   surprising   spectacle   be   furnished   by  the 


202  Romance  of  London. 

learned  persons  who  are  to  appear  as  the  counsel  of  the 
combatants,  and  who,  as  soon  as  the  ring  is  formed,  will 
have  to  accompany  their  clients  within  the  lists,  and  to 
stand,  like  so  many  seconds  and  bottle-holders,  beside 
a  pair  of  bare-legged,  bare-armed,  and  bare-headed 
cudgellists."  The  subject,  ludicrous  as  it  seemed,  was 
one  of  considerable  seriousness  and  importance.  The 
reflection  that  in  the  nineteenth  century  a  human  life 
might  be  sacrificed,  to  a  practice  which  might  have 
been  conceived  too  absurd,  impious,  and  cruel,  to  have 
outlived  the  dark  ages,  could  not  be  entertained  without 
pain.  In  the  following  year,  however,  this  barbarous 
absurdity  was  nullified  by  an  Act  (59  Geo.  III.  c.  46) 
abolishing  all  criminal  appeals  and  trial  by  battle  in  all 
cases,  both  civil  and  criminal,  and  thus  purifying  the  law 
of  England  from  a  blot  which  time  and  civilisation  had 
strangely  failed  to  wear  away. 

Dr  Luke  Booker,  of  Dudley,  wrote  a  kind  of  moral 
drama  on  this  occasion,  which  he  entitled  The  Mysterious 
Murder. 

The  Field  of  Forty  Footsteps. 

In  the  rear  of  Montague  House,  Bloomsbury,  until  the 
present  generation,  the  ground  lay  waste,  and  being  on 
the  edge  of  the  great  town,  presented  a  ready  arena  for 
its  idle  and  lawless  dangerous  classes.  It  appears  to 
have  been  originally  called  Long  Fields,  and  afterwards 
Southampton  Fields.  They  were  the  resort  of  depraved 
persons,  chiefly  for  fighting  pitched  battles,  especially  on 
the  Sabbath-day ;  such  was  the  state  of  the  place  up  to 
1800. 

Montague  House  and  Gardens  occupied  seven  acres. 
In  the  latter  were  encamped,  in  17S0,  the  troops 
stationed  to  quell  the  Gordon  riots  ;  and  a  print  of  the 


TJic  Field  of  Forty  Footsteps.  203 

period  shows  the  ground  in  the  rear  of  the  mansion  laid 
out  in  grass-terraces,  flower-borders,  lawns,  and  gravel- 
walks,  where  the  gay  world  resorted  on  a  summer's 
evening.  The  back  being  open  to  the  fields  extending 
to  Lisson  Grove  and  Paddington  ;  north,  to  Primrose 
Hill,  Chalk  Farm,  Hampstead,  and  Highgate  ;  and  east, 
to  Battle  Bridge,  Islington,  St  Pancras,  &c. :  the  north 
side  of  Queen  Square  was  left  open,  that  it  might  not 
impede  the  prospect.  Dr  Stukeley,  many  years  rector 
of  St  George's  Church,  in  his  MS.  diary,  1749,  describes 
the  then  rural  character  of  Queen  Square  and  its 
neighbourhood.  On  the  side  of  Montague  Gardens, 
next  Bedford  Square,  was  a  fine  grove  of  lime-trees ; 
and  the  gardens  of  Bedford  House,  which  occupied  the 
north  side  of  the  present  Bloomsbury  Square,  reached 
those  of  Montague  House.  We  can,  therefore,  under- 
stand how,  a  century  and  a  half  since,  coachmen  were 
regaled  with  the  perfume  of  the  flower-beds  of  the  gar- 
dens belonging  to  the  houses  in  Great  Russell  Street, 
which  then  enjoyed  "  wholesome  and  pleasant  air." 
Russell  Square  was  not  built  until  1804,  although  Bal- 
timore House  was  erected  in  1763;  and  it  appears  to 
have  been  the  only  erection  since  Strype's  Survey  to 
this  period,  with  the  exception  of  a  chimney-sweeper's 
cottage,  still  further  north,  and  part  of  which  is  still  to 
be  seen  in  Rhodes's  Mews,  Little  Guildford  Street.  In 
1800,  Bedford  House  was  demolished  entirely;  which, 
with  its  offices  and  gardens,  had  been  the  site  where  the 
noble  family  of  the  Southamptons,  and  the  illustrious 
Russells,  had  resided  during  more  than  200  years,  almost 
isolated.     (Dr  Rimbault.) 

The  Long  Fields  would  seem  to  have  been  early 
associated  with  superstitious  notions  ;  for  Aubrey  tells 
us,  that  on  St  John  Baptist's  Day,  1694,  he  saw,  at  mid- 


204  Romance  of  London. 

night,  twenty-three  young  women  in  the  parterre  behind 
Montague  House,  looking  for  a  coal,  under  the  root  of  a 
plantain,  to  put  under  their  heads  that  night,  "  and  they 
should  dream  who  would  be  their  husbands." 

But  there  is  stronger  evidence  of  this  superstition  in 
association.  A  legendary  story  of  the  period  of  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth's  Rebellion  relates  a  mortal  conflict 
here  between  two  brothers,  on  account  of  a  lady,  who 
sat  by ;  the  combatants  fought  so  ferociously  as  to  de- 
stroy each  other  ;  after  which,  their  footsteps,  imprinted 
on  the  ground  in  the  vengeful  struggle,  were  said  to 
remain,  with  the  indentations  produced  by  their  advanc- 
ing and  receding;  nor  would  any  grass  or  vegetation 
ever  grow  over  these  forty  footsteps.  Miss  Porter  and 
her  sister  upon  this  fiction,  founded  their  ingenious 
romance,  Coming  Out,  or  the  Field  of  Forty  Footsteps  ;  but 
they  entirely  depart  from  the  local  tradition.  At  the 
Tottenham  Street  Theatre  was  produced,  many  years 
since,  an  effective  melodrama,  founded  upon  the  same 
incident,  entitled  the  Field  of  Forty  Footsteps. 

Southey  records  this  strange  story  in  his  Common- 
place Book  (Second  Series,  p.  21).  After  quoting  a  letter 
from  a  friend,  recommending  him  to  "take  a  view  of 
those  wonderful  marks  of  the  Lord's  hatred  to  ducllinsr. 
called  The  Brothers  Steps,"  and  describing  the  locality, 
Southey  thus  narrates  his  own  visit  to  the  spot : — 

"  We  sought  for  near  half  an  hour  in  vain.  We  could  find  no  steps  at 
all  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  no,  nor  half  a  mile  of  Montague  House. 
We  were  almost  out  of  hope,  when  an  honest  man,  who  was  at  work, 
directed  us  to  the  next  ground,  adjoining  to  a  pond.  There  we  found  what 
we  sought,  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  north  of  Montague  House,  and 
500  yards  east  of  Tottenham  Court  Road.  The  steps  are  of  the  size  of  a 
large  human  foot,  about  three  inches  deep,  and  lie  nearly  from  north-east 
to  south-west.  We  counted  only  seventy-six ;  but  we  were  not  exact  in 
counting.    The  place  where  one  or  both  the  brothers  are  supposed  to  have 


The  Famous  Cheshire  Will  Case.  205 

fallen  is  still  bare  of  grass.     The  labourer  also  showed  us  the  bank  where 
(the  tradition  is)  the  wretched  woman  sat  to  see  the  combat." 

Southey  adds  his  full  confidence  in  the  tradition  of 
the  indestructibility  of  the  steps,  even  after  ploughing 
up,  and  of  the  conclusions  to  be  drawn  from  the  circum- 
stance.— Notes  and  Queries,  No.  12. 

Joseph  Moser,  in  one  of  his  Commonplace  Books,  gives 
this  account  of  the  footsteps,  just  previous  to  their  being 
built  over : — 

"June  16,  1800.  Went  into  the  fields  at  the  back  of  Montague  House, 
and  there  saw,  for  the  last  time,  the  forty  footsteps ;  the  building  materials 
are  there,  ready  to  cover  them  from  the  sight  of  man.  I  counted  more 
than  forty,  but  they  might  be  the  footprints  of  the  workmen." 

We  agree  with  Dr  Rimbault  that  this  evidence  estab- 
lishes the  period  of  the  final  demolition  of  the  footsteps, 
and  also  confirms  the  legend  that  forty  was  the  original 
number. 

In  the  third  edition  of  A  Booh  for  a  Rainy  Day,  we 
find  this  note  upon  the  above  mysterious  spot : — 

"  Of  these  steps  there  are  many  traditionary  stories  :  the  one  generally 
believed  is,  that  two  brothers  were  in  love  with  a  lady,  who  would  not 
declare  a  preference  for  either,  but  coolly  sat  down  upon  a  bank  to  witness 
the  termination  of  a  duel,  which  proved  fatal  to  both.  The  bank,  it  is 
said,  on  which  she  sat,  and  the  footmarks  of  the  brothers  when  passing  the 
ground,  never  produced  grass  again.  The  fact  is,  that  these  steps  were  so 
often  trodden  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  grass  to  grow.  I  have  fre- 
quently passed  over  them  ;  they  were  in  a  field  on  the  site  of  St  Martin's 
Chapel,  or  very  nearly  so,  and  not  on  the  spot  as  communicated  to  Miss 
Porter,  who  has  written  an  entertaining  novel  on  the  subject." 


The  Famous  Cheshire  Will  Case. 

The  Will  of  Dame  Lady  Anne  Fytton,  widow,  intro- 
duces us  to  two  families — the  Fittons  of  Gawsworth, 
and  the  Gerards,  their  cousins.      The  son  and  heir  of 


2o6  Romance  of  London. 

Lady  Anne  was  Sir  Edward  Fytton,  whose  sister  Pene- 
lope married  Sir  Charles  Gerard.  Fytton  and  Gerard ! 
what  a  coil  the  men  who  bore  these  names  made  some 
years  after  Lady  Anne  was  entombed  at  Gawsworth ! 
Will  upon  will,  lawsuit  upon  lawsuit — how  fierce  and 
foul  the  struggle,  which  began  in  one  century  with  for- 
gery, and  concluded  in  the  next  with  murder  in  Hyde 
Park. 

They  who  now  pass  through  Gerrard  Street  and 
Macclesfield  Street,  Soho,  pass  over  ground  where  the 
son  and  heir  of  Sir  Charles  Gerard,  first  baron  of  that 
name,  and  subsequently  Earl  of  Macclesfield,  kept  a 
gay  house,  surrounded  by  trim  gardens,  and  a  sulky 
French  wife,  whom  Charles  II.  forbade  continuing  her 
attendance  on  the  Queen,  because  the  lady  let  her 
tongue  wag  rudely  against  the  Castlemaine  whom 
Gerard  himself  received  at  his  mansion.  That  lord, 
who  gave  up  his  commission  of  the  Guards  for  a  dou- 
ceur of  £12,000  from  the  King,  who  wanted  the  dignity 
for  Monmouth,  was  a  fine  dresser,  a  false  friend,  a  tale- 
bearer against  Clarendon,  and  altogether  not  a  man  to 
be  esteemed.  His  uncle,  Sir  Edward  Fytton  of  Gaws- 
worth, had  died  childless,  entailing  (it  was  said)  his 
estates  on  a  kinsman,  William  Fytton,  who  was  suc- 
ceeded in  the  possession  by  his  son  Alexander.  To 
oust  the  latter,  nineteen  years  after  the  death  of  Sir 
Edward,  and  thirty  after  the  entail  had  been  confirmed, 
as  alleged,  by  a  deed-poll,  Gerard  produced  a  will  which 
would  be  looked  for  in  vain  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Court 
at  Chester,  It  purported  to  be  that  of  Gerard's  uncle, 
Sir  Edward,  duly  made  in  the  nephew's  favour.  Hot, 
fierce,  anxious,  was  the  litigation  that  followed.  Fytton 
pleaded  the  deed-poll,  but  Gerard  brought  forward  one 


The  Famous  Cheshire  Will  Case.  207 

Abraham  Granger,  who  made  oath  that  he  had  forged 
the  name  of  Sir  Edward  to  that  deed  under  menace  of 
mortal  violence.  Thereupon  the  judgment  of  the  Chan- 
cellor was  given  in  favour  of  Gerard,  and  the  deed 
declared  to  be  a  forgery.  Fytton,  as  soon  as  he  heard 
the  judgment  pronounced,  "rose  up,"  says  Roger  North, 
"  and  went  straight  down  to  a  shop  in  the  Hall,  took  up 
his  Lordship's  picture,  paid  his  shilling,  and,  rolling  up 
his  purchase,  went  off,  desiring  only  an  opportunity  in 
a  better  manner  to  resent  such  an  ancient  piece  of  jus- 
tice." 

Then  ensued  the  strangest  part  of  this  will  story. 
Abraham  Granger,  impelled  by  remorse  or  liberal  pay- 
ment, or  desire  to  escape  a  great  penalty  by  acknow- 
ledging the  smaller  offence,  appeared  in  court,  and  con- 
fessed that  he  had  perjured  himself  when  he  swore  that 
he  had  forged  the  name  of  Sir  Edward.  The  confession, 
however,  was  unsupported,  and  Fytton,  who  was  con- 
sidered the  responsible  person,  was  condemned  to  fine, 
imprisonment,  and  pillory.  But  he  was  not  a  man  to 
be  kept  from  greatness  by  having  suffered  such  degra- 
dation. Turning  Romanist,  he  was  patronised  by  James 
the  Second,  who  made  him  Chancellor  of  Ireland  and 
Baron  Gawsworth,  and  who  found  in  him  a  willing  and 
unscrupulous  instrument  in  James's  Irish  Parliament, 
and  active  in  passing  Acts  of  Forfeiture  of  Protestant 
property  and  Attainder  of  Protestant  personages. 

The  family  quarrel,  as  we  have  said,  ended  in  blood. 
Gerard  died  in  1693,  Earl  of  Macclesfield.  He  was 
succeeded  by  his  two  sons,  Charles,  who  died  childless, 
in  1701,  and  Fytton  Gerald,  Earl  of  Macclesfield,  who 
died,  without  heirs,  in  1702.  Ten  years  later  occurred,  in 
Hyde  Park,  that  savage  duel  between  Lord  Mohun,  and 


208  Romance  of  London. 

the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  in  which  both  adversaries  were 
slain.  Political  animosities,  which  ran  very  high  at  this 
period,  gave  a  peculiar  acrimonious  character  to  the 
transaction  ;  but  the  main  cause  was — these  two  men, 
Mohun  and  Hamilton,  were  husbands  of  co-heiresses, 
who  were  disputing  possession  of  the  old  Cheshire 
estates  of  the  Fyttons ;  and  they  brought  to  a  sanguin- 
ary end  the  old  Cheshire  will  case,*  as  will  be  seen  in 
our  next  narration. 


Duel  between  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  and 
Lord  Mohun. 

On  the  15th  of  November  171 2,  this  most  sanguinary 
duel  was  fought  near  Prince's  Lodge,  in  Hyde  Park. 
The  spot  was  known  as  "  the  Ring,"  parts  of  which  can 
be  distinctly  traced  on  the  east  of  the  Ranger's  grounds. 
This  memorable  struggle  is  minutely  detailed  in  Trans- 
actions during  the  Reign  of  Queen  Anne,  published  at 
Edinburgh  in  1790,  by  Charles  Hamilton,  a  member  of 
the  illustrious  house  of  Hamilton,  who  was  led  to  take  a 
peculiar  interest  in  the  subject. 

It  appears  that  upon  the  return  of  Lord  Bolingbroke 
from  Paris,  Queen  Anne  was  pleased  to  nominate  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton  her  Ambassador  Extraordinary  and 
Plenipotentiary  to  France.  Previously  to  his  departure 
upon  this  embassy,  his  Grace  laboured  to  bring  to  issue 
a  Chancery  suit,  which  for  some  time  had  lain  depend- 
ing between  Lord  Mohun  and  him,  whose  respective 
consorts  were  nieces  of  the  late  Earl  of  Macclesfield. 
By  appointment  the  two  lords  met  on  the  morning  of 

*  Abridged  from  the  AthencEum, 


Duke  of  Hamilton  and  Lord  Mohun.  209 

the  13th  November,  at  the  chambers  of  Olebar,  a  Master 
in  Chancery.  Upon  hearing  the  evidence  of  Mr  Whit- 
worth,  formerly  steward  of  the  Macclesfield  family,  an 
old  man,  whose  memory  was  much  impaired  by  age,  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton  said,  "  There  is  no  truth  or  justice  in 
him."  Lord  Mohun  replied,  "  I  know  Mr  Whit  worth  ; 
he  is  an  honest  man,  and  has  as  much  truth  as  your 
Grace."  This  grating  retort  was  not  noticed  by  the 
Duke.  Having  concluded  their  business,  the  parties 
separated  without  any  heed  or  apparent  animosity.'"' 
Lord  Mohun  that  night  supped  at  the  Queen's  Arms 
Tavern,  in  Pail  Mall,  in  the  company  of  General 
Macartney  and  Colonel  Churchill,  both  violent  men,  and 
declared  partisans  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  From 
the  tavern  Lord  Mohun  retired  to  his  own  house,  in 
Marlborough  Street.  Early  next  morning,  he  paid  a 
hurried  visit  to  General  Macartney  and  Colonel  Churchill, 
who  both  occupied  lodgings  in  the  same  house.  At- 
tended by  these  two  gentlemen,  his  Lordship  afterwards 
proceeded  to  Marlborough  House,  where  it  is  but  too 
plain  that  the  offending  party  was  prevailed  upon  to  send 
a  challenge  to  the  party  offended. 

Next  day  General  Macartney  with  Lord  Mohun  went 
to  the  Rose  Tavern :  the  Duke  and  his  Lordship  retired 
into  a  private  room,  and  ordered  a  bottle  of  claret,  a  part 
of  which  they  drank.  The  Duke  joined  some  company 
who  expected  him;  and  the. General  returned  to  my 
Lord  Mohun,  with  whom  he  went  away. 

Lord  Mohun  that  evening  again  supped  at  the  Queen's 

*  The  above  and  all  the  following  circumstances  are  extracted  with 
fidelity  from  different  examinations  taken  before  the  Privy  Council  after 
the  Duke's  cruel  catastrophe,  and  from  the  trial  of  General  Macartney  in 
the  Court  of  King's  Bench. 

VOL.  I.  O 


2 1  o  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

Arms  in  Pall  Mall,  with  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  Sir 
Robert  Rich,  Colonel  Churchill,  and  a  stranger.  About 
twelve  at  night,  General  Macartney  came  in,  took  Lord 
Mohun  to  the  Bagnio,  in  Long  Acre,  ordered  a  room 
with  two  beds :  here  the  General  and  his  Lordship 
slept ;  having  desired  to  be  called  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

Uncommon  pains  were  taken  to  keep  up  Lord  Mohun's 
spirits,  who  seems  to  have  had  very  little  inclination  for 
the  duel.  Yet  he  was  not  a  novice  at  fighting,  for  his 
Lordship  had  been  engaged  in  other  broils.  Swift  says 
he  had  twice  been  tried  for  murder.  The  Duke  so  little 
apprehended  foul  play  being  designed  against  him,  that 
at  seven  o'clock  on  the  next  morning,  15th  November,  as 
he  was  dressing  himself  to  repair  to  the  place  appointed, 
he  recollected  that  he  stood  in  need  of  a  second.  He 
despatched  a  footman  to  Colonel  Hamilton,  in  Charing 
Cross,  with  a  request  that  he  would  dress  himself  with 
expedition,  as  he  would  speedily  be  with  him.  The 
Duke  stepped  into  his  chariot,  ordered  the  coachman  to 
drive  to  the  Colonel's  lodgings,  went  in,  and  hurried  him 
away.  They  drove  on  to  Hyde  Park,  where  the  coach- 
man stopped.  The  Duke  ordered  him  to  drive  on  to 
Kensington.  Colonel  Hamilton  subsequently  deposed 
before  the  Privy  Council :  "  Coming  to  the  lodge,  we  saw 
a  hackney-coach  at  a  distance,  on  which  his  Grace  said, 
'  There  is  somebody  he  must  speak  with  ; '  but  driving 
up  to  it,  and  seeing  nobody,  he  asked  the  coachman, 
4  Where  are  the  gentlemen  you  brought  ? '  He  answered, 
'A  little  before.'  The  Duke  and  I  got  out  in  the  bottom, 
and  walked  over  the  Pond's  Head,  when  we  saw  Lord 
Mohun  and  General  Macartney  before  us.  After  this 
we  all  jumped  over  the  ditch  into  the  nursery,  and  the 


Duke  of  Hamilton  and  Lord  MoJiun.  2 1 1 

Duke,  turning  to  Macartney,  told  him,  '  Sir,  you  are  the 
cause  of  this,  let  the  event  be  what  it  will.'  Mac- 
artney answered,  '  My  lord,  I  had  a  commission  for  it.' 
Then  Lord  Mohun  said,  '  These  gentlemen  shall  have 
nothing  to  do  here  ;'  at  which  Macartney  replied,  '  We 
will  have  our  share.'  Then  said  the  Duke,  'There  is 
my  friend  ;  he  will  take  his  share  in  my  dance.'  We  all 
immediately  drew.  Macartney  made  a  full  pass  at  me, 
which  passing  down  with  great  force,  I  wounded  myself 
in  the  instep  ;  however,  I  took  the  opportunity  to  close 
with  and  disarm  Macartney  ;  which  being  done,  I  turned 
my  head,  and  seeing  my  Lord  Mohun  fall  with  the  Duke 
upon  him,  I  flung  down  both  the  swords,  and  ran  to  the 
Duke's  assistance.  As  I  was  raising  up  my  Lord  Duke, 
I  saw  Macartney  make  a  push  at  his  Grace.  I  imme- 
diately looked  whether  he  had  wounded  him,  but  per- 
ceiving no  blood,  I  took  up  my  sword,  expecting  that 
Macartney  would  attack  me  again, — but  he  walked  off. 
Just  as  he  was  going,  came  up  the  keepers  and  others, 
to  the  number  of  nine  or  ten,  among  the  rest  the  Duke's 
steward,  who  had  brought  with  him  a  surgeon,  who,  on 
opening  his  Grace's  breast,  soon  discovered  a  wound  on 
the  left  side,  which  entered  between  the  left  shoulder 
and  pap,  and  went  slantingly  down  through  the  midriff 
into  his  belly. 

"  The  surgeons,  who  afterwards  opened  the  body,  at 
the  same  time  confirmed  this  circumstance.  Let  any 
person  at  all  acquainted  with  the  fencing  attitudes 
determine  whether  such  a  wound  could  have  been  given 
by  the  opposed  adversary  in  the  act  of  fighting,  or 
whether,  while  lying  transfixed,  extended  on  his  back, 
he  could  have  thrust  his  sword  into  his  opponent's  bosom 
in  the  manner  above  described,  particularly  when  it  is 


2 1 2  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

considered  that  the  Duke  had  only  accidentally  slipped 
down  upon  the  wet  grass* 

"John  Reynolds,  of  Price's  Lodge,  further  deposed 
that  he  was  within  thirty  or  forty  yards  from  the  lords 
when  they  fell ;  that  my  Lord  Mohun  fell  into  the  ditch 
upon  his  back,  and  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  leaning  over 
him.  That  the  two  seconds  ran  into  them,  and  imme- 
diately himself,  who  demanded  the  seconds'  swords, 
which  they  gave  him ;  but  that  he  was  forced  to  wrest 
the  Duke's  sword  out  of  his  hand.  That  he  assisted  in 
lifting  up  the  Duke,  who  was  lying  on  his  face,  and  in 
supporting  him  while  he  walked  about  thirty  yards, 
when  he  said  he  could  walk  no  farther." 

There  is  another  version  of  this  sanguinary  affair  in  a 
letter  from  Macartney,  who  had  fled  to  the  Continent, 
written  to  a  friend  of  his  in  town.  This  represents 
Lord  Mohun  striving  to  prevent  the  duel,  for  which  pur- 
pose, on  his  behalf,  Macartney  waited  upon  the  Duke 
to  accommodate  the  matter ;  for  which  purpose  also 
his  Grace  had  sent  messengers  in  quest  of  Macartney. 
It  was  then  proposed  that  the  parties  should  meet  that 
night  at  the  Rose  Tavern,  in  Covent  Garden.  Macart- 
ney and  Lord  Mohun  went  together,  and  there  found 
the  Duke  of  Hamilton  alone,  and  (says  Macartney) 
"his  whole  dress  was  changed  from  a  long  wig  and 
velvet  clothes  I  had  left  him  in  to  a  riding  wig  and  stuff 
coat,  without  either  star  or  ribbon,  only  a  St  Andrew's 
cross,  and  an  old  white  cloak."  "  You  see,  sir,"  said  my 
Lord  Duke,  smiling,  "  that  I  am  come  en  cavalier^     "  I 

*  Lest  it.  should  be  surmised  that  he  might  have  held  his  sword  in  the 
left  hand,  it  should  here  be  mentioned  that  in  running  Lord  Mohun 
through  the  body  his  Grace  had  received  a  wound  in  the  right  arm,  which 
evinces  that  the  right  hand  was  his  sword  hand. 


Duke  of  Hamilton  and  Lord  Alohun.  2  r  3 

see  it,  indeed,  my  Lord,"  said  I ;  "  but  I  hope  it  is  on 
some  other  gallant  occasion,  no  way  relating-  to  our  last 
discourse."  His  Grace  replied,  "No,  faith, 'tis  for  the 
business  you  know  of,  for  le  mis  prcst-a-tout."  "  My 
Lord,"  said  I,  "  I  am  come  here  by  your  Grace's  com- 
mands, not  without  hopes  that,  discoursing  with  your 
Grace  and  your  friend,  things  might  be  better  under- 
stood, and  perhaps  settled  to  both  your  satisfactions." 
"  My  friend  is  here,"  said  my  Lord  Duke ;  and,  going  to 
the  door,  called  very  loudly,  "  Jack,  come  in."  Imme- 
diately enters  Colonel  Hamilton  in  a  red  coat  with  gold 
buttons;  and  the  Duke,  presenting  him  to  me,  said, 
"  Sir,  here  is  the  gentleman  who  is  to  entertain  you." 
Then,  turning  to  Colonel  Hamilton,  says,  "Do  you 
hear,  Jack?  "  Lord  Mohun  and  I  have  an  affair  to 
decide  which  no  one  is  to  know  of  but  yourself  and 
Mr  Macartney."  "With  all  my  heart,"  says  Colonel 
Hamilton;  "Mr  Macartney  and  I  know  one  another 
very  well."  There  being  wine  upon  the  table,  I  drank 
to  him  Duke  Hamilton's  health ;  he  pledged  it,  and  his 
Grace  drank  to  me  ;  on  which  I  filled  another  glass  and 
said,  "  My  Lord,  let  me  drink  to  a  happy  conclusion  of 
this  affair."     "With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  Duke. 

No  time  of  meeting  was  then  arranged,  and  Mac- 
artney left  the  Duke  and  Colonel  Hamilton  together. 
Macartney  declared  that  till  Hamilton  came  into  the 
room,  he  had  not  lost  hopes  of  an  accommodation  ;  but 
the  Duke  presenting  to  Macartney,  for  an  antagonist,  a 
gentleman  who  had  a  long  prejudice  to  him,  for  being 
made  major  over  his  head  in  the  Scots  Greys,  besides 
a  later  difference  which  happened  in  Scotland,  this 
unhappy  rencontre  made  him  incapable  of  further  pro- 
posals. 


2 1 4  Romance  of  L  ondon . 

Macartney  thus  relates  the  struggle  : — "  Immediately 
both  lords  drew,  and  I  can  give  little  account  of  their 
action,  being  at  the  same  instant  engaged  with  Colonel 
Hamilton,  with  whom,  after  some  parrying,  I  closed  in  ; 
and  getting  his  sword  from  him  with  my  left  hand,  he 
caught  hold  of  mine  with  his  right  hand  just  below  the 
hilt.  'Sir,'  said  I,  'struggle  not,  for  I  have  your  sword.' 
'  Sir/  said  he,  '  I  have  a  grip  of  yours  ;'  '  Quit  it,  then,' 
said  I,  '  and  don't  force  me  to  run  you  through  the  back, 
but  let's  haste  to  save  them.'  I  saw  the  lords  then 
struggle  and  fall  together,  their  ground  being  much 
changed  in  the  action.  While  I  was  yet  uttering  the 
words  I  mentioned  last  to  Colonel  Hamilton,  the  keeper 
came  up  and  found  us  two  in  this  posture,  standing 
upon  our  legs  close  struggling,  his  sword  in  my  left 
hand,  free  over  his  right  shoulder,  and  my  sword  in  my 
right  hand,  he  pulling  at  the  blade  with  both  his.  One 
of  the  keepers  took  our  two  swords,  and  I  think  another 
ran  at  the  same  instant  to  the  lords,  crying  out,  '  What 
a  deal  of  mischief  is  done  here !  Would  to  God  we 
had  come  sooner!  You  gentlemen  are  such  strange 
creatures!'  As  we  stepped  to  the  lords,  as  I  think  not 
above  four  yards  from  us,  Lord  Mohun  was  not  alto- 
gether on  his  back,  but  in  a  manner  between  lying  and 
sitting,  bending  forward  to  Duke  Hamilton,  of  whose 
sword  he  laid  a  hold  with  his  left  hand.  Duke 
Hamilton  was  on  his  knees  leaning  to  his  left  almost 
across  Lord  Mohun,  and  holding  Lord  Mohun's  sword 
also  fast  with  his  left  hand,  both  striving,  but  neither 
able,  to  disengage  himself  from  t'other.  One  of  the 
keepers,  with  Colonel  Hamilton,  first  lifted  the  Duke, 
while  with  another  I  endeavoured  the  same  service  to 
my  Lord  Mohun,  who  immediately  said  to  me,  '  I  be- 


Duke  of  Hamilton  and  Lord  Mohun.  2 1 5 

lieve  I  am  killed,  for  I  have  several  wounds  in  my 
belly.'  '  Good  God  forbid,'  said  I,  and  turning  him  off 
his  wounded  side  and  belly,  strove  in  vain  to  give  him 
relief.  I  saw  the  Duke,  supported  by  the  Colonel  and 
another,  walk  some  yards,  but  staggering,  which  I  im- 
puted to  a  great  gash  I  saw  in  his  leg,  which  I  thought 
had  cut  the  sinews.  I  continued  my  care  about  my 
Lord  Mohun  till  hopes  were  passed,  and  then  sent  his 
body  home  in  the  same  coach  that  brought  us."  Swift, 
in  his  Journal  to  Stella,  Nov.  15,  171 2,  says: — "The 
Duke  was  helped  into  the  Cake  House  by  the  Ring  in 
Hyde  Park,  and  died  on  the  grass  before  he  could  reach 
the  house." 

This  duel  assumed  a  high  political  colour.  The  Duke 
was  regarded  as  the  head  of  the  Jacobite  party,  and 
Lord  Mohun  a  zealous  Whig.  The  Duke's  appoint- 
ment as  ambassador  alarmed  the  Whigs,  on  the  sup- 
position that  this  nobleman  favoured  the  Pretender. 
Macartney  disappeared,  and  escaped  in  disguise  to  the 
Continent.  Colonel  Hamilton  declared  upon  oath,  be- 
fore the  Privy  Council,  that  when  the  principals  en- 
gaged, he  and  Macartney  followed  their  example ;  that 
Macartney  ivas  immediately  disarmed ;  but  the  Colonel, 
seeing  the  Duke  fall  iipon  his  antagonist,  threw  away 
the  swords,  and  ran  to  lift  him  up;  that  while  he  was 
employed  in  raising  the  Duke,  Macartney,  having  taken 
up  one  of  the  swords,  stabbed  his  Grace  over  Hamil- 
ton's shoulder,  and  retired  immediately.  A  proclama- 
tion was  issued,  promising  a  reward  of  £^00  to  those 
who  should  apprehend  or  discover  Macartney  ;  and  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton  offered  ,£300  for  the  same  purpose. 
The  Tories  exclaimed  against  this  event  as  a  party  duel. 
They  treated  Macartney  as  a   cowardly  assassin ;  and 


2 1 6  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

affirmed  that  the  Whigs  had  posted  others  of  the  same 
stamp  all  round  Hyde  Park  to  murder  the  Duke  of 
Hamilton,  in  case  he  had  triumphed  over  his  antagonist, 
and  escaped  the  treachery  of  Macartney.  The  Whigs, 
on  the  other  hand,  affirmed  that  it  was  altogether  a  pri- 
vate quarrel ;  that  Macartney  was  entirely  innocent  of 
the  perfidy  laid  to  his  charge  ;  and  that  he  afterwards 
submitted  to  a  fair  trial,  at  which  Colonel  Hamilton  pre- 
varicated in  giving  his  evidence,  and  was  contradicted  bv 
the  testimony  of  divers  persons  who  saiv  the  combat  at  a 
distance.  These  details  are  from  Smollett's  Continuation 
of  Hume's  History  of  England. 

Macartney  surrendered,  and  taking  his  trial  in  the 
Court  of  King's  Bench,  the  deposition  of  Colonel  Hamil- 
ton was  contradicted  by  two  park-keepers ;  the  General 
was  acquitted  of  the  murder,  and  found  guilty  of  man- 
slaughter only — was  restored  to  his  rank  in  the  army, 
and  gratified  with  the  command  of  a  regiment. 

Meanwhile,  General  Macartney  having  found  favour 
at  the  Court  of  Hanover,  was  afterwards  employed  by 
George  I.  in  bringing  over  the  6000  Dutch  troops  at  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Preston  Rebellion ;  soon  after 
which,  in  accordance  with  the  ribald  taste  of  the  day, 
the  tragic  duel  was  turned  into  the  following 

BALLAD   OF  DUKE   HAMILTON. 

Duke  Hamilton  was  as  fine  a  Lord, 

Fal  lal  de  ral  de  re,  O, 
As  ever  Scotland  could  afford  ; 

Fal  lal  de  ral  de  re,  O. 
For  personal  valour  few  there  were , 
Could  with  his  Grace  the  Duke  compare  : 
How  he  was  murdered  you  shall  hear. 

Fal  lal  de  ral  de  re,  O. 


Duke  of  Hamilton  and  L  ord  MoJiun.  2 1 7 

Lord  Mohun  and  he  fell  out  of  late, 

Fal,  &c. 
About  some  trifles  of  the  State ; 

Fal,  &c. 
So  high  the  words  between  them  rose, 
As  very  soon  it  turned  to  blows  : 
How  it  will  end  there 's  nobody  knows. 

Fal,  &c. 

Lord  Mohun,  who  never  man  could  face, 

Fal,  &c. 
Unless  in  some  dark  and  private  place, 

Fal,  &c. 

(Twice.) 
He  sent  a  challenge  unto  his  Grace. 

Fal,  &c. 

Betimes  in  the  morning  his  Grace  arose, 

Fal,  &c. 
And  straight  to  Colonel  Hamilton  goes ; 

Fal,  &c. 
Your  company,  sir,  I  must  importune, 
Betimes  in  the  morning,  and  very  soon, 
To  meet  General  M'Cartney  and  Lord  Mohun. 

Fal,  &c. 

The  Colonel  replies,  I  am  your  slave, 

Fal,  &c. 
To  follow  your  Grace  unto  the  grave. 

Fal,  &c. 
Then  they  took  coach  without  delay, 
And  to  Hyde  Park  by  break  of  day — - 
Oh  !  there  began  the  bloody  fray. 

Fal,  &c. 

No  sooner  out  of  coach  they  light, 

Fal,  &c. 
But  Mohun  and  M'Cartney  came  in  sight— 

Fal,  &c. 

(Twice.) 
Oh  !  then  began  the  bloody  fight. 

Fal,  &c. 


2 1 S  Romance  of  London. 

Then  bespoke  the  brave  Lord  Mohun, 

Fal,  &c. 
I  think  your  Grace  is  here  full  soon ; 

Fal,  &c. 
I  wish  your  Grace  would  put  it  bye, 
Since  blood  for  blood  for  vengeance  cry, 
And  loath  I  am  this  day  to  die. 

Fal,  &c. 

Then  bespoke  the  Duke  his  Grace, 

Fal,  &c. 
Saying,  Go  find  out  a  proper  place  ; 

Fal,  &c. 
My  Lord,  to  me  the  challenge  you  sent— 
To  see  it  out  is  my  intent, 
Till  my  last  drop  of  blood  be  spent. 

Fal,  &c. 

Then  these  heroes'  swords  were  drawn, 

Fal,  &c. 
And  so  lustily  they  both  fell  on  ; 

Fal,  &c 
Dulse  Hamilton  thrust  with  all  his  might 
Unto  Lord  Mohun  thro'  his  body  quite, 
And  sent  him  to  eternal  night. 

Fal,  &c. 

By  this  time  his  Grace  had  got  a  wound, 

Fal,  &c. 
Then  on  the  grass,  as  he  sat  down, 

Fal,  &c. 
Ease  M'Cartney,  as  we  find, 
Cowardly,  as  he  was  inclined, 
Stabb'd  his  Grace  the  Duke  behind, 

Fal,  &c. 

This  done,  the  traitor  ran  away, 

Fal,  &c. 
And  was  not  heard  of  for  many  a  day ; 

Fal,  &c. 


L  ord  Byron  and  Chaworth.  2 1 9 

In  Christian  land,  let's  hear  no  more 
Of  duelling  and  human  gore, 
The  story's  told — I  say  no  more — 

But  fal  lal  de  ral  de  re,  O. 

Duel  between  Lord  Byron  and  Mr 
Chaworth. 

EVERY  reader  of  the  "  Life  of  Lord  Byron  "  will  recol- 
lect that  the  granduncle  of  the  illustrious  poet,  in  the 
year  1765,  took  his  trial  in  the  House  of  Peers,  for  kill- 
ing in  a  duel,  or  rather  scuffle,  his  relation  and  neigh- 
bour, Mr  Chaworth,  "  who  was  run  through  the  body, 
and  died  next  day." 

Lord  Byron  and  Mr  Chaworth  were  neighbours  in  the 
country,  and  they  were  accustomed  to  meet,  with  other 
gentlemen  of  Nottinghamshire,  at  the  Star  and  Garter 
Tavern,  in  Pall  Mall,  once  a  month,  what  was  called  the 
Nottinghamshire  Club. 

The  meeting  at  which  arose  the  unfortunate  dispute 
that  produced  the  duel,  was  on  the  26th  of  January  1765, 
at  which  were  present  Mr  John  Hewet,  who  sat  as  chair- 
man ;  the  Hon.  Thos.  Willoughby ;  Frederick  Montagu, 
John  Sherwin,  Francis  Molineux,  Esqrs.,  and  Lord 
Byron;  William  Chaworth,  George  Donston,  and  Charles 
Mcllish,  junior,  Esq.;  and  Sir  Robert  Burdett ;  who 
were  all  the  company  present.  The  usual  hour  was  soon 
after  four,  and  the  rule  of  the  club  was  to  have  the  bill 
and  a  bottle  brought  in  at  seven.  Till  this  hour  all  was 
jollity  and  good  humour  ;  but  Mr  Hewet,  happening  to 
start  some  conversation  about  the  best  method  of  pre- 
serving game,  setting  the  laws  for  that  purpose  out  of 
the  question,  Mr  Chaworth  and  Lord  Byron  were  of 
different  opinions  ;  Mr  Chaworth  insisting  on  severity 


220  Romance  of  London. 

against  poachers  and  unqualified  persons  ;  and  Lord 
Byron  declaring  that  the  way  to  have  most  game  was  to 
take  no  care  of  it  at  all.  Mr  Chaworth,  in  confirmation 
of  what  he  had  said,  insisted  that  Sir  Charles  Sedley 
and  himself  had  more  game  on  five  acres  than  Lord 
Byron  had  on  all  his  manors.  Lord  Byron,  in  reply, 
proposed  a  bet  of  one  hundred  guineas,  but  this  was  not 
laid.  Mr  Chaworth  then  said,  that  were  it  not  for  Sir 
Charles  Sedley's  care,  and  his  own,  Lord  Byron  would 
not  have  a  hare  on  his  estate  ;  and  his  Lordship  asking, 
with  a  smile,  what  Sir  Charles  Sedley's  manors  were, 
was  answered  by  Mr  Chaworth, — Nuttall  and  Bulwell. 
Lord  Byron  did  not  dispute  Nuttall,  but  added,  B.ulwell 
was  his ;  on  which  Mr  Chaworth,  with  some  heat,  replied, 
"  If  you  want  information  as  to  Sir  Charles  Sedley's 
manors,  he  lives  at  Mr  Cooper's,  in  Dean  Street,  and,  I 
doubt  not,  will  be  ready  to  give  you  satisfaction  ;  and, 
as  to  myself,  your  Lordship  knows  where  to  find  me,  in 
Berkeley  Row." 

The  subject  was  now  dropped  ;  and  little  was  said, 
when  Mr  Chaworth  called  to  settle  the  reckoning,  in 
doine  which  the  master  of  the  tavern  observed  him  to  be 
flurried.  In  a  few  minutes,  Mr  Chaworth,  having  paid 
the  bill,  went  out,  and  was  followed  by  Mr  Donston, 

whom  Mr  C asked  if  he  thought  he  had  been  short 

in  what  he  had  said  ;  to  which  Mr  D replied,  "  No  ; 

he  had  gone  rather  too  far  upon  so  trifling  an  occasion, 
but  did  not  believe  that  Lord  Byron  or  the  company 
would  think  any  more  of  it."  Mr  Donston  then  returned 
to  the  club-room.  Lord  Byron  now  came  out,  and 
found  Mr  Chaworth  still  on  the  stairs  :  it  is  doubtful 

whether  Lord  B called  upon  Mr  C ,  or  Mr  C 

called  upon  Lord  B ;  but  both  went  down  to  the 


Lord  Byron  and  Chaworth.  221 

first  landing-place — having  dined  upon  the  second  floor, 
and  both  called  a  waiter  to  show  an  empty  room,  which 
the  waiter  did,  having  first  opened  the  door,  and  placed 
a  small  tallow-candle,  which  he  had  in  his  hand,  on  the 
table  ;  he  then  retired,  when  the  gentlemen  entered,  and 
shut  the  door  after  them. 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  affair  was  decided  ;  the  bell  was 
rung,  but  by  whom  is  uncertain  :  the  waiter  went  up, 
and,  perceiving  what  had  happened,  ran  down  stairs 
frightened,  told  his  master  of  the  catastrophe,  when  he 
ran  up  to  the  room,  and  found  the  two  antagonists 
standing:  close  together  :  Mr  Chaworth  had  his  sword  in 
his  left  hand,  and  Lord  Byron  his  sword  in  his  right ; 

Lord  B 's  left  hand  was  round  Mr  Chaworth,  and 

Mr  C 's  right  hand  was  round  Lord  B 's  neck,  and 

over  his  shoulder.     Mr  C desired  Mr  Fynmore,  the 

landlord,  to  take  his  sword,  and  Lord  B delivered  up 

his  sword  at  the  same  moment :  a  surgeon  was  sent  for, 
and  came  immediately.  In  the  meantime,  six  of  the 
company  entered  the  room ;  when  Mr  Chaworth  said 
that  "he  could  not  live  many  hours  ;  that  he  forgave 
Lord  Byron,  and  hoped  the  world  would  ;  that  the  affair 
had  passed  in  the  dark,  only  a  small  tallow-candle 
burning  in  the  room  ;  that  Lord  Byron  asked  him,  if  he 
addressed  the  observation  on  the  game  to  Sir  Charles 
Sedley,  or  to  him  ? — to  which  he  replied,  '  If  you  have 
anything  to  say,  we  had  better  shut  the  door,'  that 
while  he  was  doing  this,  Lord  Byron  bid  him  draw,  and 
in  turning  he  saw  his  Lordship's  sword  half  drawn,  on 
which  he  whipped  out  his  own  sword,  and  made  the  first 
pass;  that  the  sword  being  through  my  Lord's  waist- 
coat, he  thought  that  he  had  killed  him ;  and,  asking 
whether  he  was   not  mortally  wounded,  Lord   Byron, 


222  Romance  of  London. 

while  he  was  speaking,  shortened  his  sword,  and  stabbed 
him  in  the  belly."  When  Mr  Hawkins,  the  surgeon, 
arrived,  he  found  Mr  Chaworth  sitting  by  the  fire,  with 
the  lower  part  of  his  waistcoat  open,  his  shirt  bloody, 
and  his  hand  upon  his  belly.  He  inquired  if  he  was  in 
immediate  danger,  and  being  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
he  desired  his  uncle,  Mr  Levinz,  might  be  sent  for.  In 
the  meantime,  he  stated  to    Mr    Hawkins,  that  Lord 

Byron  and  he  (Mr  C )  entered  the  room  together ; 

that    his    Lordship   said   something  of  the  dispute,   on 

which  he,  Mr  C ,  fastened  the  door,  and  turning 

round,  perceived  his  Lordship  with  his  sword  either 
drawn,  or  nearly  so ;  on  which  he  instantly  drew  his 
own,  and  made  a  thrust  at  him,  which  he  thought  had 
wounded  or  killed  him  ;  that  then  perceiving  his  Lord- 
ship shorten  his  sword  to  return  the  thrust,  he  thought 
to  have  parried  it  with  his  left  hand,  at  which  he  looked 
twice,  imagining  that  he  had  cut  it  in  the  attempt;  that 
he  felt  the  sword  enter  his  body,  and  go  deep  through 
his  back ;  that  he  struggled,  and  being  the  stronger 
man,  disarmed  his  Lordship,  and  expressed  his  appre- 
hension that  he  had  mortally  wounded  him  ;  that  Lord 
Byron  replied  by  saying  something  to  the  like  effect ; 
adding  that  he  hoped  now  he  would  allow  him  to  be  as 
brave  a  man  as  any  in  the  kingdom.  Mr  Hawkins 
adds  that,  pained  and  distressed  as  Mr  Chaworth  then 
was,  and  under  the  immediate  danger  of  death,  he  re- 
peated what  he  had  heard  he  had  declared  to  his  friends 
before, — that  he  had  ratherbe  in  his  present  situation,  than 
live  under  the  misfortune  of  having  killed  another  person. 
After  a  little  while,  Mr  Chaworth  seemed  to  grow 
stronger,  and  was  removed  to  his  own  house :  addi- 
tional medical  advice  arrived,   but   no  relief  could  be 


Lord  Byron  mid  Chaworth.  223 

given  him  :  he  continued  sensible  till  his  death.  Mr 
Levinz,  his  uncle,  now  arrived  with  an  attorney,  to 
whom  Mr  Chaworth  gave  very  sensible  and  distinct 
instructions  for  making  his  will.  While  this  was  being 
done,  Mr  Chaworth  described  to  his  uncle  the  catas- 
trophe, as  he  had  related  it  to  Mr  Hawkins, — lamenting 
his  own  folly  in  fighting  in  the  dark,  an  expression  that 
conveyed  no  imputation  on  Lord  Byron ;  and  implied 
no  more  than  that  by  fighting  with  a  dim  light,  he  had 
given  up  the  advantage  of  his  own  superiority  in  swords- 
manship, and  had  been  led  into  the  mistake  that  he 
was  in  the  breast  of  his  Lordship,  when  he  was  but 
entangled  in  his  waistcoat ;  for  under  that  mistake  he 
certainly  was  when  Lord  Byron  shortened  his  sword, 
and  ran  him  through  the  body :  he  added  to  Mr  Levinz, 
that  he  died  as  a  man  of  honour,  and  expressed  satis- 
faction that  he  was  in  his  present  situation,  rather  than 
in  that  of  having  the  life  of  any  man  to  answer  for. 
The  will  was  now  executed,  and  the  attorney,  Mr  Part- 
ington, committed  to  writing  the  last  words  Mr  Cha- 
worth was  heard  to  say.  This  writing  was  handed  to 
Mr  Levinz,  and  gave  rise  to  a  report  that  a  paper  was 
written  by  the  deceased,  and  sealed  up,  not  to  be  opened 
till  the  time  that  Lord  Byron  should  be  tried;  but  no 
paper  was  written  by  Mr  Chaworth,  and  that  written 
by  Mr  Partington  was  as  follows  : — "  Sunday  morning, 
the  27th  of  January,  about  three  of  the  clock,  Mr 
Chaworth  said  that  my  Lord's  sword  was  half-drawn  ; 
and  that  he,  knowing  the  man,  immediately,  or  as  quick 
as  he  could,  whipped  out  his  sword,  and  had  the  first 
thrust;  that  then  my  Lord  wounded  him,  and  he  dis- 
armed my  Lord,  who  then  said,  '  By  G — d,  I  have  as 
much  courage  as  any  man  in  England.'" 


224  Romance  of  London. 

Lord  Byron  was  committed  to  the  Tower,,  and  was 
tried  before  the  House  of  Peers,  in  Westminster  Hall, 
on  the  1 6th  and  17th  of  April  1765.  The  prisoner 
was  brought  to  the  bar  by  the  deputy-governor  of  the 
Tower,  having  the  axe  carried  before  him  by  the 
gentleman  gaoler,  who  stood  with  it  on  the  left  hand 
of  the  prisoner,  with  the  edge  turned  from  him.  Lord 
Byron's  defence  was  reduced  by  him  into  writing,  and 
read  by  the  clerk.  The  Peers  present,  including  the 
High  Steward,  declared  Lord  Byron,  on  their  honour, 
to  be  not  guilty  of  murder,  but  of  manslaughter ;  with 
the  exception  of  four  Peers,  who  found  him  not  guilty 
generally.  On  this  verdict  being  given,  Lord  Byron 
was  called  upon  to  say  why  judgment  of  manslaughter 
should  not  be  pronounced  upon  him.  His  Lordship 
immediately  claimed  the  benefit  of  the  first  Edward 
VI.,  cap.  12,  a  statute  by  which,  whenever  a  Peer  was 
convicted  of  any  felony  for  which  a  commoner  might 
have  Benefit  of  Clergy,  such  Peer,  on  praying  the  bene- 
fit of  that  Act,  was  always  to  be  discharged  without 
burning  in  the  hand,  or  any  penal  consequence  what- 
ever. The  claim  of  Lord  Byron  being  accordingly 
allowed,  he  was  forthwith  discharged  on  payment  of  his 
fees.  This  singular  privilege  was  supposed  to  be  abro- 
gated by  the  7  &  8  Geo.  IV.,  cap.  28,  s.  6,  which  abo- 
lished Benefit  of  Clergy  ;  but  some  doubt  arising  on  the 
subject,  it  was  positively  put  an  end  to  by  the  4  &  5 
Vict.,  cap.  22.  {Celebrated  Trials  connected  zvith  the 
Aristocracy.     By  Mr  Serjeant  Burke.) 

Mr  Chaworth  was  the  descendant  of  one  of  the  oldest 
houses  in  England,  a  branch  of  which  obtained  an  Irish 
Peerage.  His  grandniece,  the  eventual  heiress  of  the 
family,  was  Mary   Chaworth,  the  object  of  the  early 


The  Duke  of  York,  and  Colonel  Lenox.  225 

unrequited  love  of  Lord  Byron,  the  poet.  Singularly- 
enough,  there  was  the  same  degree  of  relationship 
between  that  nobleman  and  the  Lord  Byron  who  killed 
Mr  Chaworth,  as  existed  between  the  latter  unfortunate 
gentleman  and  Miss  Chaworth. 

Lord  Byron  survived  the  above  trial  thirty-three 
years,  and,  dying  in  1798,  leaving  no  surviving  issue, 
the  title  devolved  on  his  grandnephew,  the  poet,  who, 
in  a  letter,  thus  refers  to  the  fatal  rencontre : — "  As  to 
the  Lord  Byron  who  killed  Mr  Chaworth  in  a  duel,  so 
far  from  retiring  from  the  world,  he  made  the  tour  of 
Europe,  and  was  appointed  master  of  the  stag-hounds 
after  that  event ;  and  did  not  give  up  society  until  his 
son  had  offended  him  by  marrying  in  a  manner  con- 
trary to  his  duty.  So  far  from  feeling  any  remorse  for 
having  killed  Mr  Chaworth,  who  was  a  'spadassin,'  and 
celebrated  for  his  quarrelsome  disposition,  he  always 
kept  the  sword  which  he  used  on  that  occasion  in  his 
bedchamber,  and  there  it  still  was  when  he  died." 


Duel  between  the  Duke  of  York  and  Colonel 

Lenox. 

In  the  year  1789,  the  Duke  of  York  said,  or  was  re- 
ported to  have  said,  that  Colonel  Lenox  (afterwards 
Duke  of  Richmond),  of  the  Coldstream  Guards,  had 
submitted  to  language  at  D'Aubigny's  Club,  to  which 
no  gentleman  ought  to  submit ;  and  on  the  Colonel's 
requesting  to  be  informed  to  what  language  his  Royal 
Highness  alluded,  the  Duke  replied  by  ordering  the 
Colonel  to  his  post.  After  parade,  the  conversation 
was  renewed  in  the  orderly-room.     The  Duke  declined 

VOL.  I.  P 


226  Romance  of  London. 

to  give  his  authority  for  the  alleged  words  at 
D'Aubigny's,  but  expressed  his  readiness  to  answer  for 
what  he  had  said,  observing  that  he  wished  to  derive  no 
protection  from  his  rank :  when  not  on  duty  he  wore  a 
brown  coat,  and  hoped  that  Colonel  Lenox  would  con- 
sider him  merely  an  officer  of  the  regiment,  to  which 
the  Colonel  replied  that  he  could  not  consider  his 
Royal  Highness  as  any  other  than  the  son  of  his  King. 
Colonel  Lenox  then  addressed  a  circular  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Club,  and  failing  to  receive  the  required 
information,  again  applied  to  his  Royal  Highness  to 
withdraw  the  offensive  words,  or  afford  the  means  of 
verifying  them. 

On  a  renewed  refusal  of  explanation,  a  hostile  mes- 
sage was  delivered,  and  the  parties  met  at  Wimbledon 
Common ;  his  Royal  Highness  attended  by  Lord  Raw- 
don,  and  Colonel  Lenox  by  the  Earl  of  Winchilsea. 
The  ground  was  measured  at  twelve  paces  :  Lenox  fired 
first,  and  the  ball  grazed  his  Royal  Highness's  side-curl ; 
the  Duke  of  York  did  not  fire.  Lord  Ravvdon  then 
interfered,  and  said  that  he  thought  enough  had  been 
done.  Lenox  observed  that  his  Royal  Highness  had 
not  fired.  Lord  Rawdon  said  it  was  not  the  Duke's 
intention  to  fire ;  his  Royal  Highness  had  come  out, 
upon  Colonel  Lenox's  desire,  to  give  him  satisfaction, 
and  had  no  animosity  against  him.  Lenox  pressed 
that  the  Duke  should  fire,  which  was  declined,  with  a 
repetition  of  the  reason.  Lord  Winchilsea  then  ex- 
pressed his  hope  that  the  Duke  of  York  would  have  no 
objection  to  say,  he  considered  Colonel  Lenox  a  man  of 
honour  and  courage.  The  Duke  replied  that  he  should 
only  say  that  he  had  come  out  to  give  Colonel  Lenox 
satisfaction,  and  did  not  mean  to  fire  at  him — if  Colonel 


The  Duke  of  York  and  Colonel  Lenox.  227 

Lenox  was  not  satisfied,  he  might  fire  again.  Lenox 
said,  he  could  not  possibly  fire  again  at  the  Duke,  as 
his  Royal  Highness  did  not  mean  to  fire  at  him.  On 
this,  both  parties  left  the  ground.  The  affair  led  to  a 
prolonged  discussion  among  the  officers  of  the  Cold- 
stream Guards,  who  at  length  passed  a  resolution  that 
Colonel  Lenox  had  behaved  with  courage,  but  not 
(under  very  trying  circumstances)  with  judgment. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  (George  IV.),  however,  took  up 
the  matter  with  a  high  hand,  as  an  insult  to  his  family. 
The  4th  of  June  being  the  King's  birthday,  a  State  ball 
was  given  at  St  James's  Palace,  which  came  to  an 
abrupt  conclusion,  as  thus  described  in  a  magazine  of 
the  period  : — "  There  was  but  one  dance,  occasioned, 
it  is  said,  by  the  following  circumstance : — Colonel 
Lenox,  who  had  not  danced  a  minuet,  stood  up  with 
Lady  Catherine  Barnard.  The  Prince  of  Wales  did  not 
see  this  until  he  and  his  partner,  the  Princess  Royal, 
came  to  Colonel  Lenox's  place  in  the  dance,  when, 
struck  with  the  incongruity,  he  took  the  Princess's  hand, 
just  as  she  was  about  to  be  turned  by  Colonel  Lenox, 
and  led  her  to  the  bottom  of  the  dance.  The  Duke  of 
York  and  the  Princess  Augusta  came  next,  and  they 
turned  the  Colonel  without  the  least  particularity  or 
exception.  The  Duke  of  Clarence,  with  the  Princess 
Elizabeth,  came  next,  and  his  Royal  Highness  followed 
the  example  of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  dance  pro- 
ceeded, however,  and  Lenox  and  his  partner  danced 
down.  WThcn  they  came  to  the  Prince  and  Princess, 
his  Royal  Highness  took  his  sister,  and  led  her  to  her 
chair  by  the  Queen.  Her  Majesty,  addressing  herself 
to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  said,  'You  seem  heated,  sir,  and 
tired  !'     'lam  heated  and  tired,  madam,'  said  the  Prince, 


228  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

'  not  with  the  dance,  but  with  dancing  in  such  company.' 
'  Then,  sir,'  said  the  Queen,  '  it  will  be  better  for  me  to 
withdraw,  and  put  an  end  to  the  ball!'  'It  certainly 
will  be  so,'  replied  the  Prince,  '  for  I  never  will  counten- 
ance insults  given  to  my  family,  however  they  may  be 
treated  by  others.'  Accordingly,  at  the  end  of  the 
dance,  Her  Majesty  and  the  princesses  withdrew,  and 
the  ball  concluded." 

A  person  named  Swift  wrote  a  pamphlet  on  the  affair, 
taking  the  Duke's  side  of  the  question.  This  occasioned 
another  duel,  in  which  Swift  was  shot  in  the  body  by 
Colonel  Lenox.  The  wound,  however,  was  not  mortal, 
for  there  is  another  pamphlet  extant,  written  by  Swift 
on  his  own  duel. 

Colonel  Lenox  immediately  after  exchanged  into  the 
35th  Regiment,  then  quartered  at  Edinburgh,  where  he 
became  very  popular ;  it  wras  suspected  from  his  quarrel 
with  the  Duke  being  attributed  to  a  lurking  feeling  of 
Jacobitism — Lenox  being  a  left-handed  descendant  of 
the  Stewart  race. 

"  Fighting  Fitzgerald? 

The  records  of  Tyburn,  or  of  Newgate,  do  not  yield  a 
parallel  to  the  worthlessness  of  the  individual  who,  in 
the  last  century,  was  infamously  known  as  "  Fighting 
Fitzgerald."  By  birth  and  fortune  a  gentleman,  by 
profession  a  soldier,  he  possessed  not  a  single  attribute 
of  either  character :  in  manners  offensively  low  and 
vulgar;  in  language  vituperative ;  in  habits  a  gamester 
and  a  brawler ;  the  most  noted  duellist  on  record,  yet  a 
coward  at  heart  was  this  ferocious  impostor. 

In  the  course  of  his  wicked  life,  he  fought  upwards 


"  Fighting  Fitzgcraldr  229 

of  twenty  duels,  killing  or  wounding  eighteen  of  his 
antagonists,  and  except  a  severe  wound  in  the  head, 
received  in  his  first  rencontre,  never  meeting  with  a 
scratch.  At  one  period  of  his  career,  he  came  in  colli- 
sion with  Captain  Scawen,  of  the  Guards.  From  that 
gentleman  having  stigmatised  his  conduct,  Fitzgerald 
determined  to  bully  him  into  an  apology,  and  meeting 
the  Captain  at  the  Cocoa-tree  Tavern,  he  demanded,  in 
his  usual  swaggering  manner,  whether  Captain  Scawen 
had  ever  dared  to  take  liberties  with  his  name  and  char- 
acter. "Liberties,  sir!"  was  the  response,  "no  liberties 
can  be  taken  with  that  which  is  already  infamous."  A 
meeting  was  the  consequence,  the  parties  passing  over 
to  the  Continent  for  the  purpose,  and  they  fought  on 
the  Austrian  territory,  near  Tournay.  Fitzgerald  fired 
first,  and  his  ball  passed  close  under  the  Captain's  chin. 
Scawen  then  prepared  to  fire,  but  Fitzgerald  anticipated 
the  intention,  by  firing  his  second  pistol  at  his  opponent, 
but  declaring  to  have  done  so  by  accident! — a  cold- 
blooded attempt  at  murder.  Captain  Scawen  then 
refused  to  fire,  and  the  duel  was  put  an  end  to  by  the 
Captain  apologising. 

In  Fitzgerald's  final  duel  with  Major  Cunningham, 
that  officer  insisted  upon  fighting  with  swords,  when  the 
secret  of  long  impunity  and  success  was  detected.  The 
Major  having  passed  Fitzgerald's  guard,  and  by  a 
powerful  thrust,  struck  against  the  other's  breast,  the 
weapon  snapped,  striking  against  a  steel  surface,  when 
Cunningham  taxed  his  opponent  with  wearing  armour, 
and  he  was  driven  off  the  field.  After  this  defeat,  Fitz- 
gerald retired  to  his  Irish  property  :  he  lived  a  life  of 
violence  and  outrage,  and  closed  his  career  of  crime  with 
the  murder  of  two  neighbouring  gentlemen,  for  which 


230  Romance  of  L ondon. 

he  was  tried,  convicted,  and  executed.  Twice  the  rope 
broke  in  the  attempt  to  hang  him  ;  and  twice  he  fell  to 
the  ground,  supplicating  for  five  minutes'  longer  life. 
Such  was  the  end  of  "  Fighting  Fitzgerald." 


Primrose  Hill. 

PRIMROSE  Hill  has  also  been  the  scene  of  several  san- 
guinary duels,  one  of  which  took  place  on  April  6,  1803, 
between  Lieut.-Col.  Montgomery  and  Captain  Macna- 
mara,  in  consequence  of  a  quarrel  between  them  in 
Hyde  Park.  They  met  the  same  evening :  Capt.  M.'s 
ball  entered  the  right  side  of  Col.  M.'s  chest,  and  passed 
through  the  heart.  He  instantly  fell  without  uttering  a 
word,  but  rolled  over  two  or  three  times,  as  if  in  great 
agony,  and  groaned ;  being  carried  into  Chalk  Farm 
tavern,  he  expired  in  about  five  minutes.  Col.  Mont- 
gomery's ball  went  through  Capt.  Macnamara,  entering 
on  the  right  side,  just  above  the  hip  :  it  passed  through 
the  left  side,  carrying  part  of  the  coat  and  waistcoat  in 
with  it,  and  taking  part  of  his  leather  breeches  and  the 
hip-button  away  with  it  on  the  other  side.  Capt.  Mac- 
namara was  tried  for  manslaughter  at  the  Old  Bailey ; 
he  received  an  excellent  character  from  Lords  Hood, 
Nelson,  Hotham,  and  Minto,  and  a  great  number  of 
highly  respectable  gentlemen:  the  jury  pronounced  a 
verdict  of  Not  Guilty. 

Primrose  Hill  has  been  also  called  Green-Berry-Hill, 
from  the  names  of  the  three  persons  who  were  executed 
for  the  assassination  of  Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey, 
and  who  were  said  to  have  brought  him  hither  after  he 
had  been  murdered  at  Somerset  House. 


Lord  Camelford,  the  Duellist.  231 


Lord  Camelford,  the  Duellist. 

The  turbulent  career  of  this  eccentric  peer,  bruiser,  and 
duellist,  presents  several  strange  and  amusing  incidents. 
He  was  the  great-grandson  of  the  famous  Governor  Pitt, 
who  acquired  most  of  his  ample  fortune  in  India  by  the 
purchase  of  the  "Pitt  diamond,"  which  was  sold  in 
Europe,  with  great  profit,  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
Resrent  of  France. 

Lord  Camelford  was  born  in  1775  ;  and  in  spirit  and 
temper,  when  a  boy,  was  violent  and  unmanageable. 
He  was  bred  to  the  Royal  Navy,  and  accompanied 
Captain  Vancouver  in  the  ship  Discovery,  where,  through 
his  refractoriness  and  disobedience  of  orders,  he  was 
treated  with  necessary  severity  of  discipline.  On  his 
return  home,  he  challenged  his  captain,  and  meeting 
him  in  Bond  Street,  was  only  prevented  from  striking 
him  by  the  interference  of  his  brother.  In  the  public 
life  of  the  metropolis,  his  pugnacity  most  strangely  dis- 
played itself.  On  the  night  of  April  2,  1799,  during  a 
riot  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  Lord  Camelford  savagely 
assaulted  and  wounded  a  gentleman,  for  which  assault 
a  jury  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  returned  a  verdict 
against  him  of  £500.  Soon  after  this  affair  he  headed 
an  attack  upon  four  watchmen  in  Cavendish  Square, 
when,  after  an  hour's  conflict,  his  Lordship  and  the 
other  assailants  were  captured,  and,  guarded  by  twenty 
armed  watchmen,  were  conveyed  to  the  watch-house. 
In  another  freak  of  this  kind,  on  the  night  of  a  general 
illumination  for  Peace  in  1801,  Lord  Camelford  would 
not  suffer  lights  to  be  placed  in  the  windows  of  his 
apartments,  at  a  grocer's  in    New  Bond   Street.     The 


232  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

mob  assailed  the  house  with  a  shower  of  stones  at  the 
windows,  when  his  Lordship  sallied  out,  and  with  a 
stout  cudgel  kept  up  a  long  conflict,  until  he  was  over- 
powered by  numbers,  and  retreated  in  a  deplorable  con- 
dition. His  name  had  now  become  a  terror.  Entering, 
one  evening,  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Coffee-House  in  Con- 
duit Street,  he  sat  down  to  read  the  newspapers.  Soon 
after  came  in  a  conceited  fop,  who  seated  himself  opposite 
his  Lordship,  and  desired  the  waiter  to  bring  a  pint  of 
Madeira,  and  a  couple  of  wax  candles,  and  put  them 
into  the  next  box.  He  then  drew  to  himself  Lord 
Camelford's  candle,  and  began  to  read.  His  Lordship 
glanced  at  him  indignantly,  and  then  continued  reading. 
The  waiter  announced  the  fop's  commands  completed, 
when  he  lounged  round  into  the  box,  and  began  to  read. 
Lord  Camelford  then,  mimicking  the  tone  of  the  cox- 
comb, called  for  a  pair  of  snuffers,  deliberately  walked 
to  his  box,  snuffed  out  both  candles,  and  his  Lordship 
deliberately  returned  to  his  seat.  The  coxcomb,  boiling 
with  rage,  roared  out,  "  Waiter !  who  is  this  fellow  that 
dares  thus  to  insult  a  gentleman  ?  Who  is  he  ?  What 
is  he?  What  do  they  call  him?"  "Lord  Camelford, 
sir,"  replied  the  waiter.  "Who?  Lord  Camelford!" 
returned  the  fop,  in  a  tone  of  voice  scarcely  audible, 
terror-struck  at  his  own  impertinence — "  Lord  Camel- 
ford!  What  have  I  to  pay  ?"  On  being  told,  he  laid 
down  the  money,  and  stole  away  without  daring  to  taste 
his  Madeira. 

James  and  Horace  Smith  relate  that  they  happened 
to  be  at  the  Royal  Circus  when  "  God  save  the  King  " 
was  called  for,  accompanied  by  a  cry  of  "  Stand  up  !" 
and  "  Hats  off !"  An  inebriated  naval  lieutenant,  per- 
ceiving a  gentleman  in  an  adjoining  box  slow  to  obey 


Lord  Camelford,  the  Duellist.  233 

the  call,  struck  off  his  hat  with  his  stick,  exclaiming, 
"Take  off  your  hat,  sir!"  The  other  thus  assaulted 
proved  to  be,  unluckily  for  the  lieutenant,  Lord  Camel- 
ford.  A  set-to  in  the  lobby  was  the  consequence,  where 
his  Lordship  quickly  proved  victorious.  "  The  devil  is 
not  so  black  as  he  is  painted,"  said  Mr  James  Smith  to 
his  brother  ;  "  let  us  call  upon  Lord  Camelford,  and 
tell  him  that  we  were  witnesses  of  his  being  assaulted." 
The  visit  was  paid  on  the  ensuing  morning,  at  Lord 
Camelford's  lodgings,  No.  148  New  Bond  Street.  Over 
the  fireplace  of  the  drawing-room  were  ornaments 
strongly  expressive  of  the  pugnacity  of  the  peer.  A 
long  thick  bludgeon  lay  horizontally  supported  on  two 
brass  hooks.  Above  this  was  placed  one  of  lesser 
dimensions,  until  a  pyramid  of  weapons  gradually  arose, 
tapering  to  a  horsewhip  : — 

Thus,  all  below  was  strength,  and  all  above  was  grace. 

Lord  Camelford  received  his  visitors  with  great  civility, 
and  thanked  them  warmly  for  the  call ;  adding  that 
their  evidence  would  be  material,  it  being  his  intention 
to  indict  the  lieutenant  for  an  assault.  "All  I  can  say 
in  return  is  this,"  exclaimed  the  peer,  with  great  cordi- 
ality, "if  ever  I  see  you  engaged  in  a  row,  upon  my 
soul  I  '11  stand  by  you."  Messrs  Smith  expressed  them- 
selves thankful  for  so  potent  an  ally. 

Lord  Camelford's  irritable  disposition,  which  had 
involved  him  in  numberless  quarrels  and  disputes,  at 
length  paved  the  way  to  his  fatal  catastrophe — about  a 
fortnight  after  the  scene  at  the  Royal  Circus.  He  had, 
for  some  time,  been  acquainted  with  a  Mrs  Simmons, 
who  had  formerly  lived  under  the  protection  of  Captain 
Best,  a  friend  of  his  Lordship.     An  officious  person  had 


2  34  Romance  of  London. 

represented  to  him  that  Best  had  said  to  this  woman 
something  scandalous  of  Lord  Camelford.  This  so  in- 
censed his  Lordship,  that  on  March  6th,  1804,  meeting 
with  Best  at  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Coffee-House,  he 
went  up  to  him  and  said,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  all 
who  were  present,  "  1  find,  sir,  that  you  have  spoken  of 
me  in  the  most  unwarrantable  terms."  Captain  Best 
replied  that  he  was  quite  unconscious  of  having  deserved 
such  a  charge.  Lord  Camelford  replied,  that  he  was 
not  ignorant  of  what  he  had  said  to  Mrs  Simmons,  and 
declared  him  to  be  "  a  scoundrel,  a  liar,  and  a  ruffian." 
A  challenge  followed,  and  the  meeting  was  fixed  for  the 
next  morning.  During  the  evening,  the  captain  trans- 
mitted to  Lord  Camelford  the  strongest  assurances  that 
the  information  he  had  received  was  unfounded,  and 
that,  as  he  had  acted  under  a  false  impression,  he  should 
be  satisfied  if  he  would  retract  the  expressions  he  had 
made  use  of;  but  this  his  Lordship  refused  to  do.  Cap- 
tain Best  then  left  the  coffee-house.  A  note  was  soon 
afterwards  delivered  to  his  Lordship,  which  the  people 
of  the  house  suspected  to  contain  a  challenge.  Infor- 
mation was  lodged  at  Marlborough  Street,  but  no  steps 
were  taken  by  the  police  to  prevent  the  meeting,  until 
near  two  o'clock  the  following  morning,  when  officers 
were  stationed  at  Lord  Camelford's  door :  it  was  then 
too  late. 

Lord  Camelford  had  already  left  his  lodgings,  to 
sleep  at  a  tavern,  so  as  to  avoid  the  officers.  Agreeably 
to  an  appointment  made  by  their  seconds,  his  Lordship 
and  the  captain  met  early  in  the  morning,  at  a  coffee- 
house in  Oxford  Street,  where  Mr  Best  made  another 
effort  to  prevail  on  Lord  Camelford  to  retract  the 
expressions   he   had   used.      To   all    remonstrance   he 


Lord  Camel  ford,  the  Duellist.  235 

replied,  "  Best,  this  is  child's  play — the  thing  must  go 


on." 


Accordingly,  his  Lordship  and  Captain  Best,  on 
horseback,  took  the  road  to  Kensington,  followed  by  a 
post-chaise,  in  which  were  the  two  seconds.  On  their 
arrival  at  the  Horse  and  Groom,  the  parties  dismounted, 
and  proceeded  by  the  path  to  the  fields  behind  Holland 
House.  The  seconds  measured  the  ground,  and  took 
their  stations  at  the  distance  of  thirty  paces — twenty- 
nine  yards.  Lord  Camelford  fired  first,  but  without 
effect.  An  interval  of  several  seconds  followed,  and, 
from  the  manner  and  attitude  of  Captain  Best,  the  per- 
sons who  viewed  the  transaction  at  a  distance,  imagined 
that  he  was  asking  whether  his  Lordship  was  satisfied. 
Best  then  fired,  and  his  Lordship  fell  at  full  length. 
The  seconds,  together  with  the  captain,  immediately  ran 
to  his  assistance,  when  he  is  said  to  have  seized  the 
latter  by  the  hand,  and  to  have  exclaimed,  "  Best,  I  am 
a  dead  man  ;  you  have  killed  me,  but  I  freely  forgive 
you."  The  report  of  the  pistols  had  alarmed  some  men 
who  were  at  work  near  the  spot,  when  Captain  Best 
and  his  second  thought  it  prudent  to  provide  for  their 
own  safety.  One  of  Lord  Holland's  gardeners  now 
approached,  and  called  to  his  fellow-labourers  to  stop 
them.  On  his  arrival,  Lord  Camelford's  second,  who 
had  been  supporting  him  as  well  as  he  was  able,  ran  for 
a  surgeon,  and  Mr  Thompson,  of  Kensington,  soon  after 
came  to  his  assistance.  His  Lordship  then  asked  the 
man  "  why  he  had  called  out  to  stop  the  gentlemen,  and 
declared  that  he  did  not  wish  them  to  be  stopped  ;  that 
he  himself  was  the  aggressor,  that  he  forgave  the  gentle- 
man who  had  shot  him,  and  hoped  God  would  forgive 
him  too."     Meanwhile,  a  chair  was  procured,  and   his 


236  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

Lordship  was  carried  to  Little  Holland  House,  where, 
after  three. days'  suffering,  he  expired. 

We  have  seen  that  Lord  Camelford,  in  his  heart, 
acquitted  Captain  Best ;  he  acknowledged  also,  in  con- 
fidence to  his  second,  that  he  himself  was  in  the  wrong ; 
that  Best  was  a  man  of  honour  ;  that  he  could  not 
prevail  on  himself  to  retract  words  he  had  once  used. 
The  reason  of  the  obstinacy  with  which  he  rejected  all 
advances  towards  a  reconciliation  was  that  his  Lordship 
entertained  an  idea  that  his  antagonist  was  the  best  shot 
in  England  ;  and  to  have  made  an  apology  would  have 
exposed  his  Lordship's  courage  to  suspicion. 

On  the  morning  after  his  decease,  an  inquest  was 
held  on  the  body,  and  a  verdict  of  wilful  murder  returned 
against  "  Some  person  or  persons  unknown  ;"  on  which 
a  bill  of  indictment  was  preferred  against  Captain  Best 
and  his  friend,  which  was  ignored  by  the  grand  jury. 

A  Literary  Duel. 

It  was  at  the  period  when  Fraser's  Magazine  was  in  the 
zenith  of  its  popularity,  that  its  publisher  got  involved 
in  two  unpleasant  results — a  horse-whipping  and  a  duel. 
The  Hon.  Mr  Grantley  Berkeley's  narrative  states  that 
a  lady  conceived  the  idea  of  asking  for  his  assistance, 
though  she  knew  him  only  by  repute,  in  a  delicate  diffi- 
culty, in  which  none  of  her  own  friends  were  able  to 
assist  her  ;  and  we  learn  that  he  did  take  up  her  quarrel, 
upon  excellent  grounds,  and  with  very  immediate  and 
considerable  effect.  The  culprit  in  the  case  was  the 
well-known  Dr  Maginn,  who,  having  the  lady  in  his 
power,  from  his  then  influence  as  a  literary  critic,  was 
pressing  upon  her,  as  the  price  of  averting  his  hostility, 


A  Literary  Dud.  237 

a  dishonourable  compliance  with  desires  which  were  at 
once  base  and  mercenary.  Mr  Berkeley  boasts  that  he 
succeeded  in  taking  Dr  Maginn's  intended  prey  out  of 
his  paws,  though  he  was  afterwards  warned  by  Lady 
Blessington,  who  was  subsequently  made  cognisant  of 
the  circumstances,  that  Maginn  would  watch  for  an 
opportunity  of  having  his  revenge.  The  opportunity 
which  came  was  the  publication,  some  time  afterwards, 
of  a  novel  by  Mr  Grantley  Berkeley,  which  Dr  Maginn 
took  the  opportunity  of  criticising  in  Fraser  s  Magazine, 
not,  however,  with  a  fair  criticism,  but  with  a  malignant 
insinuation  against  Lady  Huston  (Dowager-Duchess 
of  Grafton,  and  the  cousin  of  the  author),  to  whom  he 
had  very  naturally  dedicated  the  work.  It  would  have 
been  reasonable  that  any  man,  at  whose  lady  relative  a 
scandalous  insult  was  thus  pointed,  should  feel  a  little 
tingling  of  the  blood  in  consequence  ;  and  accordingly 
Mr  Grantley  Berkeley,  accompanied  by  his  brother 
Craven,  and  armed  with  a  stout  horsewhip,  waited  on 
Mr  Fraser,  the  publisher  of  the  magazine,  to  demand 
the  name  and  address  of  the  author  of  the  article  in 
question.  The  author  was  Dr  Maginn,  but,  as  Mr  Fraser 
declined  to  name  him,  Mr  Berkeley  assumed  that  he 
might  hold  Mr  Fraser  himself  responsible,  and  thereupon 
he  hauled  him  out  by  the  collar,  and  administered  a  most 
severe  chastisement.  For  the  moment  the  assault  was 
treated  as  a  police  case,  but  it  was  soon  converted  into 
the  subject  of  a  civil  action  ;  and  in  the  meantime  Dr 
Maginn,  though  with  no  exceeding  alacrity,  threw  him- 
self in  the  way  of  Mr  Berkeley,  and  arrangements  were 
made  for  a  hostile  meeting. 

In  the  duel  which  thereupon  took  place,  neither  com- 
batant fought  with  his  own  pistols;  though  both  of  them 


238  '        Romance  of  London. 

fought  with  Mr  Grantley  Berkeley's  choice  gunpowder, 
to  his  own  extreme  disgust.  They  fired  three  shots  at 
each  other,  Mr  Berkeley  aiming  at  his  antagonist's  legs, 
but  only  succeeding  in  hitting  the  heel  of  his  boot  and  the 
hinge  of  his  own  brother  Henry's  pistol-case,  on  which  it 
rested.  We  remember  hearing  at  the  time  that  the  latter, 
who  had  followed  his  brother  on  horseback  to  the  field, 
and  was  looking  on  from  behind  the  nearest  hedge,  was 
by  no  means  gratified  by  this  damage  to  his  property, 
and  that  his  disgust  at  this  incident  was  almost  the  only 
sentiment  he  expressed  upon  this  occasion.  At  all  events, 
no  further  damage  was  done  in  the  encounter,  except 
what  appears  to  have  been  the  dispersion  of  some  cotton 
wadding,  under  Dr  Maginn's  shirt-front,  by  the  third 
and  last  shot  from  Mr  Grantley  Berkeley's  pistol.  Mr 
Fraser  was  Dr  Maginn's  second,  and  Major  Fancourt 
was  that  of  Mr  Berkeley.  Subsequent  to  this  a  counter- 
action for  libel  was  brought  by  Mr  Berkeley  against  Mr 
Fraser  in  the  Exchequer,  but  the  litigation  on  both 
sides  was  compromised  by  the  simple  payment  of  Mr 
Fraser's  doctor's  bill.  Mr  Henry  Berkeley  subsequently 
had  a  correspondence  with  Dr  Maginn  on  another 
occasion,  when  he  again  assailed  the  honour  of  the 
Berkeley  family,  in  which,  metaphorically,  the  wadding 
flew  out  of  the  doctor  a  second  time,  while  the  public 
result  of  the  whole,  according  to  the  opinion  of  the 
author  and  principal  in  the  business,  and,  indeed,  in 
that  also  of  some  other  more  reasonable  people,  was  to 
the  effect  that  "  it  put  a  wholesome  restraint  upon  the 
herd  of  libellers  who,  in  the  Age  and  Satirist  newspapers, 
and  Fraser's  Magazine,  had  for  years  been  recklessly 
trading  upon  scandals  affecting  families  of  distinction." — > 
Times'  Revietv. 


A  Terrible  Duel.  239 


A  Terrible  Duel. 

In  the  reign  of  James  I.,  when  duelling  rose  to  a  fear- 
ful height,  the  following  conflict  occurred  between  the 
Duke  of  B.  and  Lord  B.,  concerning  a  certain  beautiful 
Countess  of  E.  The  Duke  challenged  the  Lord,  and, 
contrary  to  usage,  gave  him  the  choice  of  weapons,  the 
challenger's  privilege.  They  met  the  next  morning — a 
cold,  rainy,  miserable  morning  ;  time,  five  o'clock  ;  place, 
the  first  tree  behind  the  lodge  in  Hyde  Park.  They 
stripped  off  their  fine  scarlet  coats  trimmed  with  gold 
and  silver  lace — the  Duke  excessively  indignant  that 
they  should  examine  his  vest,  so  as  to  be  certain  there 
was  no  unlawful  protection  underneath,  but  the  Lord, 
more  accustomed  to  the  formalities,  submitting  to  the 
search  coolly  enough — and  then  they  took  their  pistols, 
before  taking  to  their  swords,  according  to  the  fashion 
of  the  times.  At  the  first  fire  the  Duke  missed,  but 
Lord  B.  hit  his  Grace  near  the  thumb ;  at  the  second 
fire,  the  Duke  hit  the  Lord.  They  then  drew  their 
swords  and  rushed  on  each  other.  After  the  first  or 
second  thrust  Lord  B.  entangled  his  foot  in  a  tuft  of 
grass,  and  fell ;  but,  supporting  himself  with  his  sword 
hand,  he  sprung  back,  and  thus  avoided  a  thrust  made 
at  his  heart.  The  seconds  then  interfered,  and  attempted 
to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  ;  but  the  Duke — who 
seems  to  have  been  the  most  fiery  throughout — angrily 
ordered  them  back,  threatening  to  stab  the  first  who 
again  interfered.  After  much  good  play  and  fine 
parrying,  they  came  to  a  "  close  lock,  which  nothing  but 
the  key  of  the  body  could  open."  Thus  they  stood, 
unable  to  strike  a  blow,  each  afraid  to  give  the  other 


240  Romance  of  London. 

the  smallest  advantage,  yet  each  struggling  to  free  him- 
self from  his  entanglement.     At  last,  by  one  wrench 
stronger  than  the  others,  they  tore  themselves  away  ; 
and  at  the  same  time  both  their  swords  sprang  out  of 
their  hands — Lord  B.'s  six  or  seven  yards  in  the  air. 
This  accident,  however,  did  not  retard  them  long  ;  they 
seized  their  weapons  again  and  fought  on.     The  Lord 
was  then  wounded  in  the  sword  arm  ;  but,  bearing  back, 
and  before  the  Duke  had  quite  recovered  from  his  lunge, 
he  ran  him  through  the  body.     The  blow  left  the  Lord 
unguarded  ;  and,  with  the  sword  through  him,  the  Duke 
cut  and  thrust  at  his  antagonist,  who  had  only  his  naked 
hand  wherewith  to  guard  himself.     After  his  hand  had 
been  fearfully  mangled  with  putting  aside  his  enemy's 
sword,  the  Lord  was  in  his  turn  run  through — one  rib 
below  the  heart.     Again  the  seconds  interfered ;  again 
without   success ;   when  the    Lord,   faint  from    loss  of 
blood,  fell  backward,  and,  in  falling,  drew  his  sword  out 
af  the  Duke's  wound.      "  Recovering  himself  a  little 
before  he  was  quite  down,  he  faltered  forward,  and  fall- 
ing with  his  thigh  across  his  sword,  snapped  it  in  the 
midst."      The  Duke  then  took  his  own  sword,  broke 
it,  and,   sinking  on  the  dead  body  of  his  antagonist, 
sighed  deeply,  turned  once,  and  died  :  the  cold,  drizzling 
rain  falling  chill  on  the  stiffening  bodies  and  the  dank 
grass* 

*  Abridged  from  Chambers's  "  Book  of  Days." 


^tAatlam  ^xcfyimmmm 


Heroes  of  the  Road. 

In  that  curious  record,  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary,  we 
find  some  fearful  pictures  of  the  crimes  of  the  people, 
and  the  work  of  the  public  executioner — the  institution 
which,  since  the  days  of  Hubert  de  Burgh,  had  made 
Tyburn  memorable  ground.  There  was  no  official  in 
the  kingdom  so  actively  employed  in  Luttrell's  day  as 
the  finisher  of  the  law.  Every  month  the  Old  Bailey 
judges  turned  over  to  him  a  crowd  of  wretches,  who 
were  not  necessarily  of  the  lowest  classes,  to  be  hung, 
burnt  in  the  hand,  branded  on  the  cheek,  or  to  be 
whipped.  Occasionally,  the  judges  gave  this  busy  func- 
tionary a  woman  to  burn  alive,  for  clipping  the  King's 
coin, — a  crime  in  which  parsons,  baronets,  bankers,  bar- 
risters, and  beggars  dabbled,  in  spite  of  the  inevitable 
penalty  of  hanging  for  male  clippers,  and  of  burning 
alive  for  females.  A  gang  of  gentlemen  clippers,  dis- 
satisfied with  the  condition  of  the  law,  as  it  regarded 
them  and  their  offences,  passed  over  to  Flanders  and 
commenced  clipping  the  Spanish  King's  coin.  Where- 
upon they  were  caught,  and  the  chief  of  them  were, 
according  to  our  diarist,  "boyld  to  death,"  or,  as  he 
elsewhere  describes  it,  "scalded  alive." 

Awful  as  were  the  executioner  and  his  work,  the 
criminal  delighted  to  exhibit  his  contempt  for  him. 

"A  highwayman  (1690),  lately  condemned  at  the  Sessions,  was  going  to 
he  tied  up  by  the  hangman  according  to  custom,  but  he  knock't  down  the 
hangman  in  the  face  of  the  court,  and  made  very  indecent  reflections  on 
the  court."     Nay,  at  the  very  gallows,  we  witnessed  this  incident  : — "The 

Q 


242  Romance  of  London. 

same  day  six  persons  were  executed  at  Tyburn  ;  some  of  them  behaved 
themselves  very  impudently,  calling  for  sack,  and  drank  King  James's  health, 
and  affronted  the  ordinary  at  the  gallows,  and  refused  his  assistance  ;  and 
bid  the  people  return  to  their  obedience,  and  send  for  King  James  back." 
While  thieves  and  murderers  at  the  gallows  thus  had  their  own  way, 
except  in  one  trifle — that  of  hanging — the  streets  were  at  the  mercy  of 
those  not  yet  captured.  "Most  part  of  this  winter  (1690-1)  have  been  so 
many  burglaries  committed  in  this  town  and  the  adjacent  parts  of  it,  and 
robberies  of  persons  in  the  evening,  as  they  walk't  the  streets,  of  their  hats, 
periwigs,  cloaks,  swords,  &c,  &c,  as  was  never  known  in  the  memory  of 
any  man  living." 

If  an  honest  man  called  a  hackney-coach  to  ride 
home,  he  was  anything  but  secure  from  being  strangled  ! 
These  vehicles  were  hired  as  being  convenient  for 
assassinations.  Clinch,  the  physician,  was  made  away 
with  in  one  of  them  ;  and  when  the  Government  re- 
solved to  put  the  hackney-coach  system  under  the 
regulation  of  commissioners,  the  coachmen  and  their 
wives  raised  a  riot.  The  first  found  their  bloody  privi- 
leges annihilated,  and  the  ladies  were  horrified  at  the 
prospective  loss  of  booty. 

It  was  especially  the  murderers  who  were  the  jolliest 
at  Tyburn.  We  read  of  one  Paynes,  who  "  had  killed 
five  or  six  persons  in  a  short  time  "  (1694),  and  he  "  kickt 
the  ordinary  out  of  the  cart  at  Tyburn,  and  pulled  off 
his  shoes,  saying  hee  'd  contradict  the  old  proverb,  and 
net  dye  in  them."  Kicked  the  ordinary  out  of  the  cart ! 
We  should  feel  indescribable  regret  at  this  insult  on  the 
reverend  gentleman,  were  it  not  for  the  circumstance 
that  he  probably  deserved  it.  The  Newgate  ordinary 
in  those  days  was  not  much,  if  at  all,  better  than  his 
flock.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  score  of  high- 
waymen together  to  be  in  Newgate,  and  they  oftener 
drank  than  prayed  with  the  ordinary,  who  preferred 
punch,  as  Fielding  says,  in  his  Jonathan  Wild,  the 
rather  that  there  is  nothing  said  against  that  liquor  in 
Scripture  !     Nothing  escaped  the  hands  of  the  highway- 


Heroes  of  the  Road.  243 

men, — they  even  stole  "  the  King's  pistolls  during  his 
stay  at  Petworth,  in  Sussex"  (1692).  If  any  class  was 
more  active  than  the  thieves,  it  was  that  of  the  French 
privateers, — one  vessel  of  which  roving  species  "  came 
up  the  river  (1693),  intending  to  have  seized  the  yacht 
that  carried  the  money  down  to  pay  the  fleet,  but  was 
taken,  and  she  is  now  before  Whitehall." 

It  was  a  narrow  escape !  But  no  privateer,  no  ordi- 
nary or  extraordinary  highwayman,  equalled  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  peculiar  industry  the  busy  individual 
who  (April  27,  1692)  "was  this  day  convicted  at  Session- 
house,  for  sacrilege,  rape,  burglary,  murder,  and  robbing 
on  the  highway  ;  all  committed  in  twelve  hours'  time." 
The  father  of  iniquity  himself  could  hardly  have  sur- 
passed this  worthy  son,  whose  dexterity  and  rapid  style 
of  performance  appear  to  have  saved  his  neck,  for  Mr 
Luttrell  does  not  record  his  execution.  Not  that  very 
severe  punishments  were  not  often  inflicted, — as  in  an 
entry  for  "Tuesday,  4th  July"  (1693),  which  tells  us 
that  "one  Cockburne,  a  nonjuring  person,  is  banished 
Scotland  for  ever." 

These  details  may  appear  insignificant,  but  they  are 
not  so,  in  so  far  as  they  intimate  much  of  the  quality 
and  contents  of  Luttrell's  Brief  Relation,  scarcely  a  page 
of  which  is  without  its  crimes  and  criminals.  They 
reflect,  too,  with  truthful  gloominess  the  aspect  of  the 
times,  and  wc  will  not  leave  them  without  adverting  to 
a  very  celebrated  personage,  whose  name  is  sometimes 
taken  to  be  a  myth,  though  his  office  is  acknowledged 
to  be  a  terrible  reality.  Under  the  head  of  January 
1685-6,  we  find  it  recorded  that  "Jack  Ketch,  the  hang- 
man, for  affronting  the  Sheriffs  of  London,  was  com- 
mitted to  Bridewell,  and  is  turned  out  of  his  place,  and 


244  Romance  of  London. 

one  Rose,  a  butcher,  put  in."  This  was  ruin  for  John, 
and  as  good  as  an  estate  for  the  butcher.  But  some 
men  provoke  fortune  to  desert  them,  and  Rose  was  one 
of  such  men.  In  the  May  of  the  year  above  named,  we 
read  that  "  five  men  of  those  condemned  at  the  Sessions 
were  executed  at  Tyburn :  one  of  them  was  one  Pascha 
Rose,  the  new  hangman,  so  that  now  Ketch  is  restored 
to  his  place."* 

Under  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  too,  we  read  that  a 
certain  scoundrel  named  Harris,  though  one  of  the 
Queen's  guard,  was  also  a  noted  highwayman,  at  the 
head  of  a  gang,  and  after  much  practice  was  brought 
very  near  Tyburn;  "but,"  says  Luttrell,  "'tis  said 
William  Penn,  who  obtained  the  Queen's  pardon  for 
Harris,  condemned  for  robbing  on  the  highway,  has  also 
got  a  commission  for  him  to  be  lieutenant  of  the  militia 
in  Pennsylvania,  to  which  plantation  he  is  to  be  trans- 
ported." Nor  was  Harris's  vocation  ungentiemanly, 
since  gentlemen  took  to  it,  and  were  caught  at  it,  as  we 
find  by  an  entry  in  Luttrell's  diary  to  the  effect  that, 
"Saturday,  Sir  Charles  Burtern,  barrt,  was  committed 
for  robbery  on  the  highway,  near  St  Alban's." 

Claude  Duval 

Was  a  famous  highwayman  of  the  17th  century,  who 
made  Holloway,  between  Islington  and  Highgate,  fre- 
quently the  scene  of  his  predatory  exploits.  In  Lower 
Holloway  he  was  long  kept  in  memory  by  D aval's  Lane, 
which,  strangely  enough,  was  previously  called  Devil's 
Lane,  and  more  anciently  Tolentone  Lane. 

Macaulay,  in  his  History  of  England,  tells  us  that 

*  From  a  paper  in  the  Athenaum  on  Luttrell's  work. 


Jemmy  Whitney ',  the  Handsome  Highwayman.      245 

Claude  Duval  "  took  to  the  road,  became  captain  of  a 
formidable  gang,"  and  that  it  is  related  "how,  at  the 
head  of  his  troop,  he  stopped  a  lady's  coach,  in  which 
there  was  a  booty  of  four  hundred  pounds  ;  how  he  took 
only  one  hundred,  and  suffered  the  fair  owner  to  ransom 
the  rest  by  dancing  a  coranto  with  him  on  the  heath." 
Mr  Frith  has  made  this  celebrated  exploit  the  subject 
of  one  of  his  wonderful  pictures,  which  has  been  en- 
graved. 

Duval's  career  was  cut  short :  he  was  arrested  at  the 
Hole-in-the-Wall,  in  Chandos  Street,  Covent  Garden, 
and  was  executed  at  Tyburn,  January  21,  1669,  in  the 
twenty- seventh  year  of  his  age  ;  and,  after  lying  in  state 
at  the  Tangier  Tavern,  St  Giles's,  was  buried  in  the 
middle  aisle  of  St  Paul's  Church,  Covent  Garden ;  his 
funeral  was  attended  with  flambeaux,  and  a  numerous 
train  of  mourners,  "  to  the  great  grief  of  the  women." 
Within  memory,  Duval's  Lane  was  so  infested  with 
highwaymen,  that  few  persons  would  venture  to  peep 
into  it,  even  in  mid-day;  in  1S31  it  was  lighted  with 
gas. 


yemmy  Whitney,  the  Handsome  High- 
wayman. 

Tins  hero  of  his  day  (1692),  while  jauntily  airing 
himself  in  Bishopsgate  Street,  was  attacked  by  the 
police  officials,  one  of  whom  he  traversed  with  "a 
bagonet,"  during  a  fight  which  the  intrepid  scoundrel 
sustained  for  an  hour  against  the  officers  and  a  mob. 
Subsequently,  most  of  his  gang  were  captured, — and 
among  them  were  a  livery  stable-keeper,  a  goldsmith, 


246  Romance  of  London. 

and  a  man-milliner !  The  last  must  have  been  an  ambi- 
tious fellow,  for  "taking  to  the  road"  was  looked  upon 
as  rather  a  dignified  pursuit;  and  no  less  a  person  than 
"  Captain  Blood,  the  son  of  him  that  stole  the  crown," 
was  said  at  this  very  period  to  be  keeping  up  his  gen- 
tility by  stopping  his  Majesty's  mails.  Whitney,  popu- 
lar as  he  was,  had  nothing  of  the  Macheath  in  him.  He 
was  no  sooner  in  irons  than  he  "offers  to  discover  his 
accomplices,  and  those  that  give  notice  where  and  when 
money  is  conveyed  on  the  road  in  coaches  and  waggons, 
if  he  may  have  his  pardon."  He  is  compelled,  however, 
to  stand  to  his  indictments ;  and  though  he  is  found 
guilty  only  on  three  out  of  five,  as  the  penalty  is  death, 
the  difference  to  him  is  not  material.  He  is  confidently 
said  to  have  "  broke  "  Newgate,  but  with  "  forty  pounds 
weight  of  iron  on  his  legs."  "  He  had  his  taylor,"  says 
Mr  Luttrell,  "make  him  a  rich  embroidered  suit,  with 
perug  and  hat,  worth  ;£ioo;  but  the  keeper  refused  to 
let  him  wear  them,  because  they  would  disguise  him 
from  being  known."  After  conviction,  he  again  offered 
to  "peach,"  and  plots  having  been  favourable  to  villains 
in  times  past,  "  'tis  said  he  has  been  examined  on  a 
design  to  kill  the  king."  Then  we  hear  of  him  address- 
ing letters  to  the  heads  of  Government ;  and  the  rascal 
enters  so  circumstantially  into  a  conspiracy  to  slay  the 
King  in  Windsor  Forest,  that  a  reprieve  reaches  him,  to 
enable  him  to  reveal  everything.  He  is  even  carried  in 
a  sedan  to  Whitehall !  The  wary  fellow,  however,  stipu- 
lates that  he  should  have  a  free  pardon  before  he 
"  makes  his  discovery."  The  high  contracting  parties 
cannot  agree,  and  Whitney  is  made  to  oscillate  between 
the  gaol  and  the  gibbet.  He  is  carried  to  Tyburn,  and 
brought  back  with  the  rope  round  his  handsome  neck. 


Dick  Turpin.  2^7 

He  will,  nevertheless,  tell  nothing  but  under  previous 
full  pardon.  A  warrant  is  then  issued  to  hang  him  "  at 
the  Maypole  in  the  Strand."  This,  however,  is  not 
done  ;  but,  finally,  the  Government  being  convinced  that 
he  has  nothing  to  reveal,  give  him  up  to  justice  ;  and 
Mr  Luttrell  compliments  him  by  noticing  him  under  his 
Bagshot  brevet-captaincy ;  and  tells  us  that  "  Yesterday 
(Wednesday,  1st  of  February  1693),  being  the  1st  in- 
stant, captn  James  Whitney,  highwayman,  was  executed 
at  Porter's  Block,  near  Cow  Crosse,  in  Smithficld  ;  he 
seemed  to  dye  very  penitent ;  was  an  hour  and  a  halfe 
in  the  cart  before  turn'd  off." — From  the  Athcnccuni 
paper  on  Luttrell 's  Diary. 

Dick  Ttirpin. 

The  great  feat  of  Turpin's  life  was  his  ride  from  London 
to  York  in  twelve  hours,  mounted  on  his  bonny  Black 
Bess,  as  told  in  the  story-books,  and  made  by  Mr  Harri- 
son Ainsworth  the  startling  episode  of  his  popular  novel 
of  Rockivood.  This  is  all  very  ingenious ;  but  it  is 
doubted  whether  Turpin  ever  performed  the  journey  at 
all.  Lord  Macaulay  had  no  faith  in  the  story.  He  was 
dining  one  day  at  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne's  ;  the 
subject  of  Turpin's  ride  was  started,  and  the  old  story 
of  the  marvellous  feat,  as  generally  told,  was  alluded  to, 
when  Macaulay  astonished  the  company  by  assuring 
them  that  the  entire  tale  from  beginning  to  end  was 
false  ;  that  it  was  founded  on  a  tradition  of  at  least  three 
hundred  years  old  ;  that,  like  the  same  anecdote  fathered 
on  different  men  in  succeeding  generations,  it  was  only 
told  of  Turpin  because  he  succeeded  the  original  hero  in 
the  public  taste;  and  that,  if  any  of  the  company  chose 


248  Romance  of  London. 

to  go  with  him  to  his  library,  he  would  prove  to  them 
the  truth  of  what  he  had  stated  in  "  black  and  white," — a 
favourite  phrase  with  Lord  Macaulay.* 

Turpin  was  long  the  terror  of  the  North  Road.  Upon 
a  verdant  plot  of  ground,  opposite  the  Green  Man, 
Finchley,  on  the  road  to  Barnet,  was  a  large  oak,  which 
had  weathered  some  centuries,  and  was  known  as 
"  Turpin's  Oak,"  from  the  notorious  Dick  having  often 
taken  up  his  station  behind  this  tree  when  he  was  intent 
upon  a  freebooting  excursion.  Its  closeness  to  the  high 
road  rendered  it  a  very  desirable  reconnoitring  spot  for 
Turpin,  as  well  as  for  highwaymen  generally,  who  a 
century  and  a  quarter  ago  were  continually  robbing  the 
mails,  as  well  as  commercial  travellers  (bagmen)  pro- 
ceeding to  and  fro  between  London  and  the  north  of 
England.  From  time  to  time  were  taken  out  of  the 
bark  of  this  oak  pistol-balls  which  had  been  discharged 
at  the  trunk  to  deter  highwaymen,  should  any  have 
been  at  hand,  from  attacking  the  parties  travelling.  Mr 
Nuthall,  the  solicitor,  was  upon  one  occasion  stopped  in 
his  carriage  by  two  highwaymen,  who  came  from  behind 
this  oak,  as  he  was  proceeding  to  his  country-house  at 
Monken-Hadley  ;  when  Mr  N.,  being  armed  with  pistols, 
wounded  one  of  the  thieves  so  severely,  that  he  died  of 
the  effects. 

Many  years  after  the  above  encounter,  as  Mr  Nut- 
hall  was  returning  from  Bath  to  the  metropolis,  he  was 
attacked  by  a  highwayman  on  Hounslow  Heath  ;  who, 
on  his  demands  not  being  complied  with,  fired  into  the 
carriage.  Mr  Nuthall  returned  the  fire,  and,  it  was 
thought,  wounded  the  man,  as  he  rode  off  precipitately. 
On  arriving  at  the  inn,  Mr  N.  wrote  a  description  of  the 
*  J.  C.  Hotten,  in  Notes  and  Queries,  2d  S.  ix. 


llf'Lea;?,  the  Fashionable  Highwayman.         249 

fellow  to  Sir  John  Fielding,  but  had  scarcely  finished 
the  letter  when  he  expired. 

Turpin  was  a  gay  gallant ;  Mrs  Fountain,  a  celebrated 
beauty  of  her  day,  and  nearly  related  to  Dean  Fountain, 
was  once  saluted  by  Turpin  in  Marylebone  Gardens. 
"  Be  not  alarmed,  madame,"  said  the  highwayman ; 
"  you  can  now  boast  of  having  been  kissed  by  Turpin;" 
and  the  hero  of  the  road  walked  off  unmolested.  Turpin 
was  hanged  at  York  in  1739. 

M'Lean,  the  Fashionable  Highwayman, 

FIGURED  in  the  first  half  of  the  last  century,  and  is 
portrayed  by  Horace  Walpole  with  exquisite  humour. 
He  was  robbed  by  M'Lean  in  the  winter  of  1749,  of 
which  Walpole  gives  this  account : — "  One  night  in  the 
beginning  of  November  1749,  as  I  was  returning  from 
Holland  House  by  moonlight,  about  ten  o'clock,  I  was 
attacked  by  two  highwaymen  in  Hyde  Park,  and  the 
pistol  of  one  of  them  going  off  accidentally,  razed  the 
skin  under  my  eye,  left  some  marks  of  shot  on  my  face, 
and  stunned  me.  The  ball  went  through  the  top  of  the 
chariot,  and  if  I  had  sat  an  inch  nearer  to  the  left  side, 
must  have  gone  through  my  head."  {Short  Notes.)  One 
of  these  highwaymen  was  M'Lean.  He  also  robbed 
Lord  Eglinton,  Sir  Thomas  Robinson  of  Vienna,  Mrs 
Talbot,  &c.  He  took  an  odd  booty  from  the  Scotch 
Earl,  a  blunderbuss. 

M'Lean's  history  is  very  particular ;  for  he  confesses 
everything,  and  is  so  little  of  a  hero  that  he  cries  and 
begs,  and,  Walpole  believes,  if  Lord  Eglinton  had  been 
in  any  luck,  might  have  been  robbed  of  his  own  blunder- 
buss.    His  father  was  an  Irish  Dean  ;  his  brother  was 


2  5  o  Romance  of  L  oudou. 

a  Calvinist  minister  in  great  esteem  at  the  Hague. 
M'Lean  himself  was  a  grocer  in  Welbeck  Street,  but 
losing  a  wife  that  he  loved  extremely,  and  by  whom  he 
had  one  little  girl,  he  quitted  his  business  with  two 
hundred  pounds  in  his  pocket,  which  he  soon  spent,  and 
then  took  to  the  road  with  only  one  companion,  Plunket, 
a  journeyman  apothecary. 

M'Lean  was  taken  in  the  autumn  of  1750,  by  selling  a 
laced  waistcoat  to  a  pawnbroker  in  Monmouth  Street, 
who  happened  to  carry  it  to  the  very  man  who  had 
just  sold  the  lace.  M'Lean  impeached  his  companion, 
Plunket,  but  he  was  not  taken.  The  former  had  a 
lodging  in  St  James's  Street,  over  against  White's,  and 
another  at  Chelsea;  Plunket  one  in  Jermyn  Street;  and 
their  faces  were  as  well  known  about  St  James's  as  any 
gentleman  who  lived  in  that  quarter,  and  who  perhaps 
went  on  the  road  too. 

M'Lean  had  a  quarrel  at  Putney  Bowling-green,  two 
months  before  he  was  taken,  with  an  officer  whom  he 
had  challenged  for  disputing  his  rank ;  but  the  captain 
declined,  till  M'Lean  should  produce  a  certificate  of  his 
nobility,  which  he  had  just  received.  Walpole  says: — 
"  If  he  had  escaped  a  month  longer,  he  might  have  heard 
of  Mr  Chute's  genealogic  expertness,  and  come  hither 
to  the  College  of  Arms  for  a  certificate.  There  were  a 
wardrobe  of  clothes,  three-and-twenty  purses,  and  the 
celebrated  blunderbuss,  found  at  his  lodgings,  besides  a 
famous  kept  mistress.  As  I  conclude  he  will  suffer,  I 
wish  him  no  ill.  I  don't  care  to  have  his  idea,  and  am 
almost  single  in  not  having  been  to  see  him.  Lord 
Mountford,  at  the  head  of  half  White's,  went  the  first 
day  ;  his  aunt  was  crying  over  him.  As  soon  as  they 
were  withdrawn,  she  said  to  him,  knowing  they  were  of 


M'Lean,  the  Fashionable  Highwayman.  25  1 

White's :  '  My  dear,  what  did  the  Lords  say  to  you  ? 
Have  you  ever  been  concerned  with  any  one  of  them  ?' 
— Was  it  not  admirable?  what  a  favourable  idea  people 
must  have  of  White's  ! — and  what  if  White's  should  not 
deserve  a  much  better  ?  But  the  chief  personages  who 
have  been  to  comfort  and  weep  over  the  fallen  hero  are 
Lady  Caroline  Petersham  and  Miss  Ashe ;  I  call  them 
Polly  and  Lucy,  and  ask  them  if  he  did  not  sing— 

'  Thus  I  stand  like  the  Turk  with  his  doxies  around.'  " 

To  this  Mr  Cunningham  adds  : — Gray  has  made  M'Lean 
immortal  in  his  Long  Story: — 

A  sudden  fit  of  ague  shook  him  ; 
He  stood  as  mute  as  poor  M'Lean. 

See  also  Soame  Jenyns  in  his  poem  of  The  Modem  Fine 
Lady,  written  this  year  : — 

She  weeps  if  but  a  handsome  thief  is  hung. 

To  which  he  appends  this  note  : — "  Some  of  the  brightest 
eyes  were  at  this  time  in  tears  for  one  M'Lean,  con- 
demned for  robbery  on  the  highway." 

Walpole,  in  his  next  letter,  dated  Sept.  1,  writes  : — 
"My  friend  M'Lean  is  still  the  fashion;  have  not  I 
reason  to  call  him  my  friend  ?  He  says,  if  the  pistol 
had  shot  me,  he  had  another  for  himself.  Can  I  do  less 
than  say  I  will  be  hanged  if  he  is  ?"  Next,  on  Sept. 
20: — "M'Lean  is  condemned,  and  will  hang.  I  am 
honourably  mentioned  in  a  Grub  Street  ballad  for  not 
having  contributed  to  his  sentence.  There  are  as  many 
prints  and  pamphlets  about  him  as  about  the  earth- 
quake." 

M'Lean  was  hung  at  Tyburn  ;  shortly  after  Walpole 
writes,  Oct.  18  :— "  Robbing  is  the  only  thing  that  goes  on 


252  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

with  any  vivacity,  though  my  friend  M'Lean  is  hanged. 
The  first  Sunday  after  his  condemnation,  three  thousand 
people  went  to  see  him  ;  he  fainted  away  twice  with  the 
heat  of  his  cell.  You  can't  conceive  the  ridiculous  rage 
there  is  of  going  to  Newgate  ;  and  the  prints  that  are 
produced  of  the  malefactors,  and  the  memoirs  of  their 
lives  and  deaths,  set  forth  with  as  much  parade  as — as — 
Marshall  Turenne's — we  have  no  generals  worth  making 
a  parallel." 

Mr  John  Taylor,  long  connected  with  the  Sim  news- 
paper, describes  M'Lean  as  a  tall,  showy,  good-looking 
man,  and  a  frequent  visitor  at  Button's  coffee-house,  on 
the  west  side  of  Russell  Street,  Covent  Garden.* 

A  Mr  Donaldson  told  Taylor  that,  observing  M'Lean 
paid  particular  attention  to  the  barmaid  of  the  coffee- 
house, the  daughter  of  the  landlord,  gave  a  hint  to  the 
father  of  M 'Lean's  dubious  character.  The  father  cau- 
tioned his  daughter  against  the  highwayman's  addresses, 
and  imprudently  told  her  by  whose  advice  he  put  her 
on  her  guard  ;  she  as  imprudently  told  M'Lean.  The 
next  time  Donaldson  visited  the  coffee-room,  and  was 
sitting  in  one  of  the  boxes,  M'Lean  entered,  and  in  a 
loud  tone  said,  "  Mr  Donaldson,  I  wish  to  spake  to  you 
in  a  private  room."  Mr  D.  being  unarmed,  and  natu- 
rally afraid  of  being  alone  with  such  a  man,  said,  in 
answer,  that  as  nothing  could  pass  between  them  that 
he  did  not  wish  the  whole  world  to  know,  he  begged 
leave  to  decline  the  invitation.  "  Very  well,"  said 
M'Lean,  as  he  left  the  room,  "  we  shall  meet  again." 
A  day  or  two  after,  as  Mr  Donaldson  was  walking  near 
Richmond,  in  the  evening,  he  saw  M'Lean  on  horse- 

*  Button's  subsequently   became  a   private   house,  and  Mrs  Inchbald 
lodged  there. 


Metropolitan  Highwaymen.  253 

back ;  but,  fortunately,  at  that  moment  a  gentleman's 
carriage  appeared  in  view,  when  M'Lean  immediately- 
turned  his  horse  towards  the  carriage,  and  Donaldson 
hurried  into  the  protection  of  Richmond  as  fast  as  he 
could.  But  for  the  appearance  of  the  carriage,  which 
presented  better  prey,  it  is  probable  that  M'Lean  would 
have  shot  Mr  Donaldson  immediately. 


Metropolitan  Highwaymen. 

The  highwayman  was,  in  thieves'  slang,  called  the 
Toby-man,  who,  issuing  forth  from  the  purlieus  of  Chick 
Lane,  or  Hatton  Wall,  in  the  guise  of  a  well-mounted 
cavalier,  armed  with  pistols  and  conteau  de  ckasse,  gal- 
lantly spurring  his  flashy  bit  of  blood  up  Holborn  Hill, 
on  his  route  to  Hounslow,  with  his  half-cast  military 
style  and  degage  air,  would  give  the  town,  and  especially 
the  female  portion  of  it,  assurance  of  an  accomplished 
and  amiable  cut-throat ;  and  who,  for  a  time,  took  the 
air  in  this  ostensible  way  with  as  much  impunity  as 
nonchalance.  He  knew  his  term,  and  could  reckon 
when  he  would  be  wanted,  for  there  were  watching  him 
those  who  understood  the  crime-market  better  than  to 
put  him  up  before  he  was  worth  his  price.  Blood- 
money*  was  the  tenure  of  his  prolonged  career  :  he  had 
his  day,  and  made  the  most  of  it ;  and  if,  through  a  vista 
of  dashing  exploits,  not  ungraced  by  the  smiles  of  the 
fair,  perhaps  including  some  passages  of  gallantry  and 
tenderness  at  Ranclagh,  and  other  resorts  of  fashion,  he 

*  The  division  of  the  reward  allowed  for  the  capture  of  a  noted  criminal 
was  frequently  arranged  at  a  "  Blood-feast."  In  Hogarth's  "  Industry 
and  Idleness,"  one  of  the  scenes  is  a  place  significantly  distinguished  as 
"The  Blood  Bowl  House,"  Chick  Lane. 


254  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

caught  ever  and  anon  uncomfortable  glimpses  of  the 
gibbet,  still  he  got  inured  to  the  anticipation,  and  he 
had  in  reserve  the  final  glory  of  "  dying  game."  And, 
when  his  time  was  up,  it  still  was  something  to  be 
escorted  to  Newgate  with  as  much  state  as  a  nobleman 
committed  for  high  treason  ;  and  at  his  trial  to  recognise 
from  the  dock  many  a  member  of  the  Clubs,  and  fair 
frequenters  of  the  assemblies,  with  whom  he  had  gambled 
or  gallanted  during  the  time  which  he  carried  it  with  a 
high  hand,  in  spite  of  something  stronger  than  a  slight 
suspicion.  At  length,  ripe  and  sentenced,  covered  with 
profession  and  honours,  his  last  ride  up  Holborn  resem- 
bled, indeed,  a  triumph  rather  than  aught  disgraceful, 
or  of  a  penitential  character.  The  knight  of  roads, 
apparelled  in  his  best  and  gayest,  and  wearing  with 
jaunty  gallantry  the  favours  and  farewell  tokens  of 
more  than  one  languishing  and  love-sick  fair,  would 
defy,  in  appearance  at  least,  the  heavy  tolling  of  St 
Sepulchre's  bell,  and  the  lugubrious  address  of  the 
sexton  as  he  passed  the  churchyard.  Proceeding  with 
undaunted  air,  the  hero  of  a  general  holiday,  he  would 
quaff  St  Giles's  bowl  by  the  way,  and,  arriving  at  Tyburn- 
tree,  and  having  made  his  speech  and  final  bow,  he 
would  kick  off  his  shoes,  and  submit  to  be  turned  off 
with  the  grace  of  a  courtier.  Thus  died  the  hero  of  the 
High  Toby,  destined  to  be  celebrated  by  St  Giles's 
minstrelsy,  and  to  furnish  the  theme  of  many  a  stirring 
relation,  when  weary  turnkeys  and  thief-takers  would 
sip  their  purl  round  the  fire  at  night,  in  Newgate  lobby, 
and  talk  of  the  good  old  times. 

One  of  the  most  notorious  heroes  of  the  road  was 
John  Rann,  "  Sixtecn-string  Jack,"  who  was  executed 
at  Tyburn,   November   30,    1774,  for  robbing  the  Rev 


Metropolitan  Highwaymen.  255 

Dr  Bell,  chaplain  to  the  Princess  Amelia,  in  Gannes- 
bury  Lane.  Rann  was  a  smart  fellow,  and  a  great 
favourite  with  a  certain  description  of  ladies ;  he  had 
been  coachman  to  the  Earl  of  Sandwich,  when  his  Lord- 
ship resided  in  the  south-east  corner  house  of  Bedford 
Row.  It  was  pretty  generally  reported  that  the  sixteen 
strings  worn  by  this  freebooter  at  his  knees  were  in  allu- 
sion to  the  number  of  times  he  had  been  tried  and 
acquitted.  However,  he  was  caught  at  last ;  and  J.  T. 
Smith  records  his  being  led,  when  a  boy,  by  his  father's 
playfellow,  Joseph  Nollekens,  to  the  end  of  John  Street, 
to  see  the  notorious  terror  of  the  King's  highway,  Rann, 
on  his  way  to  execution.  The  malefactor's  coat  was  a 
bright  pea-green  ;  he  had  an  immense  nosegay,  which 
he  had  received  from  the  hand  of,  one  of  the  frail  sister- 
hood, whose  practice  it  was  in  those  days  to  present 
flowers  to  their  favourites  from  the  steps  of  St  Sepul- 
chre's Church,  as  the  last  token  of  what  they  called 
their  attachment  to  the  condemned,  whose  worldly  ac- 
counts were  generally  brought  to  a  close  at  Tyburn,  in 
consequence  of  their  associating  with  abandoned  charac- 
ters. Such  is  Mr  Smith's  account  of  the  procession  of 
the  hero  to  Tyburn  ;  and  Nollekens  assured  Smith,  had 
his  father-in-law,  Mr  Justice  Welsch,  been  high-con- 
stable, they  could  have  walked  all  the  way  to  Tyburn 
by  the  side  of  the  cart. 

Mr  Grantley  Berkeley  recounts  the  circumstances  under 
which  Lord  Berkeley  shot  a  highwayman  who  stopped 
him  in  1774-5,  and  the  recital  of  Which  he  heard  from 
Lord  Berkeley  himself,  this  being  very  different  from 
the  description  in  the  Gentleman  s  Magazine,  and  that 
published  in  the  memoirs  of  Mr  Berkeley's  aunt,  the 
Margravine  of  Anspach.      Mr  Berkeley  hints  further, 


256  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

that  no  less  a  person  than  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Twysden 
of  Raphoe  was  given  to  these  marauding  enjoyments 
some  twenty  years  previously  to  the  attack  on  his 
father,  and  that  he  was  the  Bishop  who  was  shot  through 
the  body  on  Hounslow  Heath,  and  for  whom  the  inquiry 
was  gently  made  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine:  "Was 
this  the  Bishop  who  was  taken  ill  on  Hounslow  Heath 
and  carried  back  to  his  friend's  house,  where  he  died  of 
an  inflammation  of  the  bowels  ?"  This  episcopal  high- 
wayman was  the  father  of  the  celebrated  Lady  Jersey, 
notorious  for  her  friendship  with  the  Prince  of  Wales  * 

Mr  Grantley  Berkeley,  in  his  Life  and  Recollections, 
tells  a  story  of  one  Hawkes,  commonly  called  "The 
Flying  Highwayman,"  who,  in  the  disguise  of  a  Quaker, 
at  an  inn,  observed  the  movements  of  an  unsuspicious 
traveller,  and  the  places  on  his  person  where  he  disposed 
his  valuables,  &c. ;  and  who  actually,  while  this  person's 
back  was  turned,  removed  the  priming  from  his  pistols, 
and  then  at  their  next  rencontre  plundered  him  conve- 
niently and  pleasantly  of  everything.  It  appears  that  the 
highwayman  himself  was  captured  shortly  afterwards  at  a 
country  inn  by  two  adroit  Bow  Street  runners,  who  were 
themselves  disguised  as  clod-hoppers,  and  the  manner 
in  which  they  surprised  him  makes  a  very  telling  story 
in  Mr  Berkeley's  interesting  work.  There  is  a  very 
curious  supplement  to  the  above  interesting  narrative,  in 
the  statement  that  the  eccentric  Lord  Coleraine  paid  a 
visit  to  "The  Flying  Highwayman"  when  in  Newgate, 
and  offered  him  a  handsome  price  for  his  horse.  The 
high-minded  Hawkes  responded  warmly,  "  Sir,  I  am  as 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  proposal  as  for  your  visit. 
But,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  and  with  a  manner  which 

*  Times'  Revieiv, 


Metropolitan  Highwaymen.  257 

implied  his  increasing  confidence,  "the  mare  won't  suit 
you,  perhaps,  if  you  want  her  for  the  road.  It  is  not 
every  man  that  can  get  her  up  to  a  carnage!"  Lord 
Coleraine  was  so  pleased  with  this  little  trait  of  profes- 
sional sympathy,  that  he  advanced  him  ,£50  to  effect  his 
escape,  but  in  this  the  highwayman  failed  ;  so  he  hon- 
ourably returned  the  money  as  of  no  use,  and  submitted 
to  his  fate. 

A  century  ago,  hanging  was  a  punishment  of  daily 
occurrence,  and  appears  to  have  been  looked  upon  as 
one  of  the  most  natural  occurrences  in  the  world  ;  yet 
highway  robbery  increased  frightfully.  Whole  columns 
in  small  print  appear  in  the  newspapers  in  the  month  of 
March,  signed  by  Fielding  as  head  of  the  police  (the 
brother  of  the  novelist),  and  containing  a  long  list  of 
robberies  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  metropolis,  with 
descriptions  of  the  perpetrators,  and  offers  of  reward  for 
their  apprehension  ;  while  Blackheath  and  its  neighbour- 
hood had  become  so  dangerous  that  the  inhabitants  of 
Greenwich  and  the  adjoining  parishes  found  it  necessary 
to  enter  into  an  association,  and  to  contribute  to  a  fund 
out  of  which  they  offered  so  much  a  head,  on  a  gradu- 
ated scale,  for  mounted  highwaymen,  footpads,  house- 
breakers, &c,  taken  alive  or  dead. 

Sir  John  Fielding,  the  magistrate  just  named,  in  his 

Description  of  London  and  Westminster,  in  1775,  says  : — 

"  Robberies  on  the  highway  in  the  neighbourhood   of 

London   are   not  very  uncommon ;    these   are   usually 

committed  early  in  the  morning,  or  in  the  dusk  of  the 

evening ;  and,  as  the  times  are  known,  the  danger  may 

be  for  the  most  part  avoided.      But  the  highwaymen 

here  are  civil,  compared  to  those  of  other  countries,  do 

not  often  use  you  with  ill  manners,  have  been  frequently 
vol.  1.  k 


258  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

known  to  return  papers  and  curiosities  with  much 
politeness,  and  never  commit  murder  unless,  they  are 
hotly  pursued,  and  find  it  difficult  to  escape. 

"  There  are  harboured  in  London  a  considerable  gang 
of  rogues,  who  for  ingenuity  and  dexterity  exceed  all  in 
the  world  of  their  fraternity.  These  are  the  pickpockets 
of  the  place,  who  have  made  their  occupation  a  science, 
of  which  they  are  exquisite  professors.  They  look  upon 
themselves  as  a  sort  of  incorporated  body,  and  seem  to 
have  a  regular  correspondence  among  themselves.  For, 
as  many  of  these  are  always  under  confinement  in  the 
public  prison,  there  is  scarce  anything  of  extraordinary 
value  lost,  but  what  may,  upon  proper  application  to 
them,  be  effectually  recovered  in  a  short  time.  The 
way  to  avoid  injury  from  this  industrious  fraternity  is  to 
avoid  crowds,  to  leave  your  watch  at  home,  and  to  carry 
no  more  money  in  your  pocket  than  will  barely  serve 
for  the  purpose  of  the  day." 

Travelling  on  the  New  Road  after  nightfall  seems 
formerly  to  have  been  attended  with  some  risk,  as  will 
appear  from  such  notices  as  the  following,  appended  to 
the  Sadlers'  Wells  advertisements  and  bills  of  the  per- 
formances: — "  A  horse-patrole  will  be  sent  in  the  New 
Road  at  night,  for  the  protection  of  the  nobility  and 
gentry  who  go  from  the  squares  and  that  end  of  the 
town  :  the  road  also  towards  the  City  will  be  properly 
guarded,"  "June,  1783. — Patroles,  horse  and  foot,  are 
.stationed  from  Sadlers'  Wells  Gate,  along  the  New  Road, 
to  Tottenham  Court  Turnpike,  &c,  between  the  hours 
of  eight  and  eleven." 

In  1746,  robberies  were  so  frequent,  and  the  thieves 
so  desperate,  that  the  proprietor  of  Marylebone  Gardens 
was  obliged  to  have  a  guard  of  soldiers  to  protect  the 


Metropolitan  Highwaymen.  259 

company  to  and  from  London,  half  a  mile  distance.  In 
1794,  when  Mr  Lowe  was  lessee  of  Marylebone  Gardens, 
he  offered  a  reward  of  ten  guineas  for  the  apprehension 
of  any  highwayman  found  on  the  road  to  the  Gardens. 

Even  in  the  town  itself,  highwaymen  pursued  their 
game.  Mr  Cunningham  tells  us  that  "  the  iron  bars  of 
the  two  ends  of  Lansdowne  Passage  (a  near  cut  from 
Curzon  Street  to  Hay  Hill)  were  put  up  late  in  the 
last  century,  in  consequence  of  a  mounted  highwayman, 
who  had  committed  a  robbery  in  Piccadilly,  having 
escaped  from  his  pursuers  through  this  narrow  passage 
by  riding  his  horse  up  the  steps.  This  anecdote  was 
told  by  the  late  Thomas  Grenville  to  Sir  Frankland 
Lewis.  It  occurred  while  George  Grenville  was  minister, 
the  robber  passing  his  residence  in  Bolton  Street,  full 
gallop."     {Handbook  of  London,  2d  ed.  p.  281.) 

Horace  Walpole  relates  that,  late  in  September  1750, 
as  he  was  sitting  in  his  own  dining-room,  on  a  Sunday 
night,  in  Arlington  Street,  the  clock  had  not  struck 
eleven,  when  he  heard  a  loud  cry  of  "  Stop  thief!  "  A 
highwayman  had  attacked  a  post-chaise  in  Piccadilly, 
within  fifty  yards  of  Walpole's  house  :  the  fellow  was 
pursued,  rode  over  the  watchman,  almost  killed  him, 
and  escaped. 

In  1786 — a  period  when  robberies  in  capitals  appear 
to  have  been  a  sort  of  fashion— ron  January  7,  half  an 
hour  after  eight,  tJie  mail  from  France  was  robbed  in 
Pall  Mall — yes,  in  the  great  thoroughfare  of  London, 
and  within  call  of  the  guard  at  the  palace.  The  chaise 
had  stopped,  the  harness  was  cut,  and  the  portmanteau 
was  taken  out  of  the  chaise  itself.  About  Strawberry 
Hill  highway  robberies  were  very  frequent ;  the  parson 
and  his  wife    and    servant  were  stopped   by  footpads, 


260  Romance  of  London. 

just  by  Walpole's  gate,  and  were  not  so  fortunate  as  the 
lady  who,  in  going  to  a  party  at  a  neighbour's,  was 
robbed  of  her  purse — of  bad  money,  which  she  always 
carried  in  anticipation  of  being  plundered  ;  Walpole, 
her  companion  in  the  chaise,  lost  his  purse  of  nine 
guineas. 

Near  a  century  earlier  a  strange  robbery  was  com- 
mitted in  Pall  Mall.  Dr  Sydenham,  the  celebrated 
physician,  lived  in  this  street  from  1658  until  1689,  when 
he  died.  Mr  Fox  told  Mr  Rogers  that  Sydenham  was 
sitting  in  his  window,  looking  on  the  Mall,  with  a  pipe  in 
his  mouth,  and  a  silver  tankard  before  him,  when  a 
fellow  made  a  snatch  at  the  tankard,  and  ran  off  with  it. 
Nor  was  he  overtaken,  said  Fox,  before  he  got  among 
the  bushes  in  Bond  Street,  and  there  they  lost  him. 

The  Great  Western  Road  into  London,  crossing  the 
stream  at  Knightsbridge,  was  often  nearly  impassable 
from  its  depth  of  mud.  Wyat's  men,  in  his  rebellion  of 
1554,  having  crossed  the  Thames  at  Kingston,  entered 
London  by  this  approach,  and  were  called  "  draggletails," 
from  the  wretched  plight  they  were  in.  The  badness  of 
the  road  delayed  their  march  so  much  that  it  materially 
helped  their  discomfiture.  It  was  no  better  in  1736,  when 
Lord  Hervey,  writing  from  Kensington,  complained  that 
'*  the  road  between  this  place  and  London  is  grown  so 
infamously  bad,  that  we  live  here  in  the  same  solitude  as 
we  should  do  if  cast  on  a  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean ; 
and  all  the  Londoners  tell  us  there  is  between  them  and 
us  a  great  impassable  gulf  of  mud,"  Added  to  this  was 
the  danger  from  highwaymen  and  footpads.  "  Even  so 
late  as  1799,"  writes  Mr  Davis,  "it  was  necessary  to 
order  a  party  of  light  horse  to  patrol  every  night  from 
Hyde  Park  Corner  to  Kensington  ;  and  it  is  within  the 


Highwaymen  and  Footpads.  261 

memory  of  many  when  pedestrians  walked  to  and  from 
Kensington  in  bands  sufficient  to  ensure  mutual  pro- 
tection, starting  at  known  intervals,  of  which  a  bell 
gave  due  warning."  *  But  since  1830  all  has  changed. 
However,  it  is  not  ten  years  since  the  hawthorn  hedges 
finally  disappeared  at  the  Gore,  and  the  blackbird  and 
starling  were  heard.  Snipe  and  woodcocks  are  said  to 
have  been  shot  at  Knightsbridge  within  the  memory 
of  man.  And  we  find  Mrs  Anne  Pitt,  sister  of  Lord 
Chatham,  abandoning  her  house  at  Knightsbridge, 
through  its  being  desolate,  lonely,  and  unsafe. 

In  the  Kensington  register  of  burials  there  is  an  entry 
telling  of  their  terrible  condition  : — "  29th  November 
1687.  Thomas  Ridge,  of  Portsmouth,  who  was  killed  by 
thieves,  almost  at  Knightsbridge."  And  Lady  Cowper, 
in  her  diary,  October  1715,  writes  : — "  I  was  at  Kensing- 
ton, where  I  intended  to  stay  as  long  as  the  camp  was  in 
Hyde  Park,  the  roads  being  so  secure  by  it,  that  we  might 
come  from  London  at  any  time  in  the  night  without 
danger,  which  I  did  very  often."  Sixteen  years  before 
this  (1699),  Evelyn,  in  his  diary,  complains  of  robberies 
here  even  while  coaches  and  travellers  were  passing. 

That  the  innkeepers  connived  at  this  state  of  things 
we  have  evidence  in  the  memoirs  of  Sheffield,  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  who,  having  quarrelled  with  the  Earl  of 
Rochester,  the  wit,  they  agreed  to  fight  on  horseback,  a 
way  in  England  a  little  unusual,  but  Rochester  chose  it. 
"  Accordingly,"  says  the  Duke,  "  I  and  my  second  lay 
by  the  night  before  at  Knightsbridge  privately,  to  avoid 
the  being  secured  at  London  upon  any  suspicion  ;  which 
yet  we  found  ourselves  more  in  danger  of  there,  because 
we  had  all  the  appearance  of  highwaymen,  that  had  a 
*  Memorials  of  Knightsbridge, 


262  Romance  of  London. 

mind  to  be  skulking  in  an  old  inn  for  one  night;  but  this, 
I  suppose,  the  people  of  the  house  were  used  to,  and  so 
took  no  notice  of  us,  but  liked  us  the  better!'  And,  in  the 
Rehearsal,  we  have  this  allusion  to  the  innkeepers'  habits 
and  characters  : — "  Smith  :  But  pray,  Mr  Bayes,  is  not 
this  a  little  difficult,  that  you  were  saying  e'en  now, 
to  keep  an  army  thus  concealed  in  KnigJitsbridge  ? — 
Bayes:  In  "Knights-Bridge  stay. — Johnson:  No,  not  if 
the  innkeepers  be  his  friends." 

The  audacity  of  the  footpads  on  this  road  is  attested 
by  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  April  1740,  recording 
that  "  the  Bristol  mail  from  London  was  robbed  a  little 
beyond  Knightsbridge  by  a  man  on  foot,  who  took  the 
Bath  and  Bristol  bags,  and,  mounting  the post-bof  s  horse, 
rode  off  towards  London."  On  the  1st  of  July  1774, 
William  Hawke  was  executed  for  a  highway  robbery 
here  ;  and  two  men  were  executed  on  the  30th  of  the 
ensuing  November  for  a  similar  offence.  In  the  same 
year,  December  27,  Mr  Jackson,  of  the  Court  of  Requests 
at  Westminster,  was  attacked  at  Kensington  Gore  by 
four  footpads  :  he  shot  one  dead,  and  the  others  de- 
camped. Even  so  late  as  1799,  it  was  necessary  to  order 
a  party  of  light  horse  to  patrol  every  night  from  Hyde 
Park  Corner  to  Kensington. 

"  The  Half-way  House,"  an  inn  midway  between 
Knightsbridge  and  Kensington,  had  long  been  a  place 
of  ill-repute  ;  in  the  autumn  of  1846  it  was  taken  down, 
at  an  expense  of  .£3500,  besides  the  purchase  of  the  fee  : 
near  the  site  is  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Gate,  Hyde  Park. 
We  find  this  place  referred  to  in  the  trial  of  a  highway- 
man, who  was  sentenced  to  death  for  a  robbery  in  1752. 
The  principal  witness  deposed  : — "  The  chaise  to  the 
Devizes  having  been  robbed  two  or  three  times,  as  I  was 


Highwaymen  and  Footpads.  263 

informed,  I  was  desired  to  go  in  it,  to  see  if  I  could  take 
the  thief,  which  I  did,  on  the  3d  of  June,  about  half-an- 
hour  after  one  in  the  morning.  I  got  into  the  post- 
chaise  ;  the  post-boy  told  me  the  place  where  he  had 
been  stopped  was  near  the  Half-way  House,  between 
Knightsbridge  and  Kensington.  As  we  came  near  the 
house,  the  prisoner  came  to  us  on  foot,  and  said,  '  Driver, 
stop  ! '  He  held  a  pistol-tinderbox  to  the  chaise,  and 
said,  '  Your  money,  directly  ;  you  must  not  stay — this 
minute,  your  money.'  I  took  out  a  pistol  from  my  coat- 
pocket,  and  from  my  breeches-pocket  a  five-shilling 
piece  and  a  dollar.  I  held  the  pistol  concealed  in  one 
hand,  and  the  money  in  the  other.  I  held  the  money 
pretty  hard  ;  he  said,  '  Put  it  in  my  hat.'  I  let  him  take 
the  five-shilling  piece  out  of  my  hand  ;  as  soon  as  he  had 
taken  it,  I  snapped  my  pistol  at  him  ;  it  did  not  go  off; 
he  staggered  back,  and  held  up  his  hands,  and  said, 
'O  Lord!  O  Lord!'  I  jumped  out  of  the  chaise; 
he  ran  away ;  and  I  after  him,  about  600  or  700  yards, 
and  there  took  him.  I  hit  him  a  blow  in  the  back  ;  he 
begged  for  mercy  on  his  knees  ;  I  took  his  neckcloth  off, 
and  tied  his  hands  with  it,  and  brought  him  back  to  the 
chaise  ;  then  I  told  the  gentlemen  in  the  chaise  that  was 
the  errand  I  came  upon  ;  and  wished  them  a  good  jour- 
ney, and  brought  the  prisoner  to  London. — Question  by 
the  Prisoner:  Ask  him  how  he  lives. — Norton:  I  keep 
a  shop  in  Wych  Street,  and  sometimes  I  take  a  thief." 
The  post-boy  stated  on  the  trial  that  he  had  told  Norton, 
if  they  did  not  meet  the  highwayman  between  Knights- 
bridge and  Kensington,  they  should  not  meet  him  at  all 
— a  proof  of  the  frequency  of  these  occurrences  in  that 
neighbourhood. 

Mr  Walker,  the  police  magistrate,  writing  some  thirty 


264  Romance  of  London. 

years  ago  (1835),  gives  this  picture  of  the  security 
of  persons  in  the  metropolis ;  although  the  general 
impression  is  the  reverse.  "  Considering  the  enormous, 
and  in  many  parts  demoralised,  population  of  London, 
it  is  quite  marvellous  there  should  be  so  little  personal 
insecurity.  I  have  been  in  the  habit  for  many  years  of 
going  about  alL  parts  of  town  and  the  environs  at  all 
hours,  without  any  precaution,  and  I  never  experienced 
on  any  occasion  the  slightest  molestation;  and  I  scarcely 
ever  met  in  society  any  one  whose  actual  experience 
was  different.*  It  was  not  so  formerly,  as  the  following 
instances  will  serve  to  show.  At  Kensington,  within  the 
memory  of  man,  on  Sunday  evenings  a  bell  used  to  be 
rung  at  intervals  to  muster  the  people  returning  to  town. 
As  soon  as  a  band  was  assembled,  sufficiently  numerous 
to  insure  mutual  protection,  it  set  off ;  and  so  on  till  all 
had  passed.  George  IV.  and  the  late  Duke  of  York, 
when  very  young,  were  stopped  one  night  in  a  hackney- 
coach,  and  robbed,  on  Hay  Hill,  Berkeley  Square. 
The  Prince  and  a  party,  among  whom  were  old  Colonel 
Lowther  and  General  Hulse,  had  been  to  a  house  of  ill- 
repute  in  Berkeley  Street.  They  were  returning  on 
Hay  Hill,  when  they  were  stopped,  and  their  money 
was  demanded,  by  a  man  who  presented  a  pistol  at 
them.  Among  them  all  they  could  only  muster  half-a- 
crown.  To  cross  Hounslow  Heath,  or  Finchley  Com- 
mon, now  both  enclosed,  after  sunset,  was  a  service  of 
great  danger.  Those  who  ventured  were  always  well 
armed,  and  some    few  had   even    ball-proof    carriages. 

*  Sir  Richard  Phillips,  in  one  of  the  editions  of  the  Picture  of  London, 
gives  similar  experience ;  but,  a  few  years  before  his  death,  Sir  Richard 
was  robbed  of  his  gold  watch  as  he  stood  in  New  Palace  Yard  gazing 
at  the  King  in  procession  to  open  Parliament. 


Field  Lane.  265 

There  is  a  house  still  standing,  I  believe,  on  Finchley 
Common,  which,  in  those  days,  was  the  known  place  of 
rendezvous  for  highwaymen.  Happily,  these  things  are 
now  matters  of  history. 

"  I  will  add  one  more  instance  of  change.  A  retired 
hackney-coachman,  giving  an  account  of  his  life  to  a 
friend  of  mine,  stated  that  his  principal  gains  had  been 
derived  from  cruising  at  late  hours,  in  particular  quar- 
ters of  the  town,  to  pick  up  drunken  gentlemen.  If  they 
were  able  to  tell  their  address,  he  conveyed  them 
straight  home ;  if  not,  he  carried  them  to  certain 
taverns,  where  the  custom  was  to  secure  their  property 
and  put  them  to  bed.  In  the  morning  he  called  to  take 
them  home,  and  was  generally  handsomely  rewarded. 
He  said  there  were  other  coachmen  who  pursued  the 
same  course,  and  they  all  considered  it  their  policy  to 
be  strictly  honest.  The  bell  at  Kensington  and  the 
coachmen's  cruises  may  be  referred  back  a  little  more 
than  seventy  years,  and  afford  indisputable  and  consol- 
ing proofs  of  improvement  in  security,  wealth,  and 
temperance.  I  like  to  look  on  the  bright  side  of 
things." 

The  romance  of  thievery  has  in  a  great  measure 
departed,  though  much  of  the  reality  is  left  in  another 
shape.  The  clumsy  practice  of  criminal  robbery  has 
dwindled,  and  has  chiefly  fallen  into  the  hands  of  boys, 
trained  to  their  nefarious  course  by  the  fence,  who  takes 
the  lion's  share  of  the  spoil.  This  character  has  been 
portrayed  to  the  life  by  the  author  of  Oliver  Twist,  in 
the  admirable  impersonation  of  Fagin,  whose  den  is 
localised  in  Field  Lane,  which  extended  from  the  foot  of 
Holborn  Hill,  northward,  parallel  with  the  Fleet  Ditch  : 
it  was  thus  vividly  painted  in  1837  : — 


266  Romance  of  London. 

"Near  to  the  spot  on  which  Snow  Hill  and  Holborn 
meet,  there  opens,  upon  the  right  hand  as  you  come 
out  of  the  City,  a  narrow  and  dismal  alley  leading  to 
Saffron  Hill.  In  its  filthy  shops  are  exposed  for  sale 
huge  bunches  of  pocket-handkerchiefs  of  all  sizes  and 
patterns — for  here  reside  the  traders  who  purchase  them 
from  pickpockets.  Hundreds  of  these  handkerchiefs 
hang  dangling  from  pegs  outside  the  windows,  or  flaunt- 
ing from  the  door-posts ;  and  the  shelves  within  are 
piled  with  them.  Confined  as  the  limits  of  Field  Lane 
are,  it  has  its  barber,  its  coffee-shop,  its  beer-shop,  and 
its  fried  fish  warehouse.  It  is  a  commercial  colony  of 
itself, — the  emporium  of  petty  larceny,  visited  at  early 
morning  and  setting-in  of  dusk  by  silent  merchants,  who 
traffic  in  dark  back-parlours,  and  go  as  strangely  as 
they  come.  Here  the  clothesman,  the  shoe-vamper,  and 
the  rag-merchant  display  their  goods  as  sign-boards  to 
the  petty  thief ;  and  stores  of  old  iron  and  bones,  and 
heaps  of  mildewy  fragments  of  woollen  stuff  and  linen, 
rust  and  rot  in  the  grimy  cellars."* 

It  is  curious  to  find  the  initiatory  processes  of  picking 
pockets,  as  taught  by  Fagin  to  Oliver  Twist,  practised 
in  the  metropolis  nearly  three  centuries  ago.  Stow 
relates  the  case  of  "  One  Walton,  a  gentleman  born,  and 
some  time  a  merchant  of  good  credit,  but  fallen  by  time 
into  decay.  This  man  kept  an  alehouse  at  Smart's  Key, 
near  Billingsgate,  and  after,  for  some  misdemeanour, 
put  down,  he  reared  up  a  new  trade  of  life,  and  in  the 
same  house  he  procured  all  the  cut-purses  about  the 
City  to  repair  to  his  house.  There  was  a  schoolhouse 
set  up  to  teach  young  boys  to  cut  purses.  Two  devices 
were  hung  up  :  one  was  a  pocket,  and  another  was  a 

*  Oliver  Tivist.     By  Charles  Dickens. 


Field  Lane.  267 

purse.  The  pocket  had  in  it  certain  counters,  and  was 
being  hung  with  hawk's-bells,  and  over  the  top  did  hang 
a  little  sacring  bell.  The  purse  had  silver  in  it.  And 
he  that  could  take  out  a  counter  without  any  noise,  was 
allowed  to  be  a  public  Foyster ;  and  he  that  could  take 
a  piece  of  silver  out  of  the  purse  without  noise  of  any  of 
the  bells,  was  adjudged  a  judicial  Nypper,  according  to 
their  terms  of  art.  A  Foyster  was  a  pickpocket ;  a 
Nypper  was  a  pick-purse,  or  cut-purse." 

When  the  clearance  was  commenced  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago  for  the  new  street  from  the  foot  of  Holborn 
Hill  in  the  direction  of  Clerkenwell,  a  nestling-place  of 
crime  was  disturbed  in  Field  Lane,  but  much  of  the  old 
abomination  remained  in  the  alleys  and  other  narrow 
places  at  the  back  of  Cowcross  ;  whence  the  Fleet  Ditch 
was  then  open  as  far  as  Ray  Street,  Clerkenwell,  near 
the  spot  formerly  known  as  Hockley-in-the-Hole.  This 
place,  noted  for  its  bear  and  bull  baitings,  and  gladia- 
torial exhibitions,  from  the  time  of  Charles  II.,  is  referred 
to  in  the  Spectator ;  likewise  by  Pope,  Gay,  Fielding, 
and  other  authors  of  the  last  century.  Among  other 
exhibitions  with  which  the  public  were  regaled,  a  hand- 
bill, dated  1710,  specifies  the  Baiting  of  a  Mad  Ass; 
also,  a  Green  Bull,  probably  his  first  introduction  to  the 
pleasures  of  Hockley-in-the-Hole.  Some  of  the  streets 
of  this  neighbourhood  retain  names  significant  of  early 
times.  Brookhill,  and  Turnmill  Street,  convey  a  remi- 
niscence of  the  Turnmill  Brook  which  ran  down  here  into 
the  Fleet,  and  of  the  mill  belonging  to  the  Knights 
Hospitallers  of  St  John  of  Jerusalem,  which  was  turned 
byjts  waters.  Hard  by,  the  Clerkenwell,  now  repre- 
sented by  a  small  pump,  was  once  the  scene  of  the 
performance  of  dramatic  mysteries  by  the  Worshipful 


268  Romance  of  London. 

Company  of  the  Parish  Clerks  of  London.  On  the 
eastern  bank  of  the  Fleet  was  Cowcross,  so  called  from 
a  cross  which  formerly  stood  there  ;  and  not  far  from 
which,  at  the  entrance  to  Chick  Lane  from  Smithfield, 
anciently  stood  the  Gallows,  denominated  the  Elms, 
another  significant  boundary  ;  in  addition  to  which  may 
be  mentioned  the  Whipping  Post,  which  stood  at  the 
end  of  Bowling  Green  Lane,  Clerkenwell ;  the  Stocks 
and  the  Pillory  were  formerly  situated  in  Holborn,  near 
the  entrance  to  Ely  Place. 

On  the  demolition,  in  1844,  of  Chick  Lane,  or  West 
Street,  a  great  sensation  was  excited  by  certain  disco- 
veries made  in  the  old  Red  Lion  public-house,  formerly 
a  noted  receptacle  for  thieves.  Here  were  found  trap- 
doors, sliding  panels,  blind  passages;  and  other  provisions 
for  the  evasion  of  pursuers ;  a  plank  thrown  across  the 
Fleet  Ditch  in  the  rear  of  the  house  being  the  mode  of 
escape  to  the  opposite  bank  in  case  of  hot  pursuit. 
Certain  skeletons  were  also  shown  to  visitors  here  as 
having  been  found  on  the  premises  ;  but  it  is  now  known 
that  these  latter  accessories  had  only  been  procured  in 
order  to  make  up  a  show,  to  which  rank  and  fashion 
resorted  with  an  avidity  that  almost  rivalled  the  marvel- 
lous performance  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.* 

The  extraordinary  insecurity  of  London  and  its  neigh- 
bourhood a  hundred  years  ago  will  be  best  understood  by 
the  following  notes  of  highway  robberies  at  that  period : — 

Jan.  3.  "  Saturday  last  (Jan.  3),  about  ten  in  the  evening,  as  a  post-chaise 
was  coming  to  town  between  the  turnpike  and  Tottenham  Court  Road  and 
the  first  mile-stone,  with  the  Earl  of  March  and  George  Augustus  Selwyn, 
Esq.,  a  highwayman  stopped  the  postillion,  and  swore  he  would  blow  his 
brains  out  if  he  did  not  stop;  on  which  the  Earl  of  March  jumped  out  of 
the  chaise  and  fired  a  pistol,  and  the  highwayman  immediately  rode  off." 
— Lloyd's  Evening  Post,  Jan.  7. 

*  Abridged  from  Mr  Wykeham  Archer's  Vestiges  of  Old  London, 


Chick  Lane.  269 

"  Last  Sunday  night,  a  man  was  plundered  by  two  footpads  in  Moor- 
fields.' —AW*  Weekly  Journal. 

Jan.  5.  "On  Monday  night,"  a  gentleman  going  over  Moornelds  "was 
attacked  by  two  men  and  a  woman,  and  was  beaten  and  had  his  pockets 
rifled." — Lloyd's  Evening  Post. 

Jan.  II.  "Yesterday  evening,"  a  gentleman  was  robbed  by  a  single 
highwayman  near  Vauxhall  turnpike.  "  He  is  supposed  to  be  the  same 
person  that  has  committed  several  robberies  for  some  days  past  round  that 
part  of  the  country." — Ibid.  Friday,  Jan.  9. 

"  On  Sunday  evening,  as  Justice  Hervey,  of  Islington,  and  his  son  were 
coming  in  his  chariot  on  the  Paddington  Road,"  they  were  attacked  by 
two  highwaymen,  who,  however,  were  defeated  in  their  design.  It  appears 
that  the  justice  and  his  son  carried  pistols  loaded,  and  that  his  footman  was 
armed  with  a  carbine. — Ibid.  Jan.  14. 

"  On  Sunday  night  last,"  as  Dr  Lewis,  a  physician  of  Kingston,  in  Surrey, 
was  returning  in  his  post-chaise  from  London,  he  was  stopped  near  Vaux- 
hall by  two  highwaymen,  and  robbed  of  eighteen  guineas  and  his  gold 
watch, — Ibid.  Jan.  16. 

Jan.  12.  On  Monday  night,  a  gentleman  and  his  son  were  robbed  by 
footpads  on  their  way  from  Blackheath  to  the  Borough.  "  Their  behaviour 
was  very  civil,  and  they  returned  five  shillings  to  bring  them  to  town." — 
Ibid.  Jan.  14. 

Jan.  13.  "  On  Tuesday  evening,  the  Lord  Viscount  Gage  was  stopped  in 
a  post-chaise  between  Hounslow  and  Brentford,  by  a  single  highwayman, 
who  robbed  him  of  his  purse,  and  made  off." — Ibid.  Jan.  16. 

Jan.  1 4.  "  Wednesday  morning,  about  three  o'clock,  as  a  farmer  was 
coming  with  ki  load  of  hay  to  London,  he  was  stopped  and  robbed  the 
other  side  of  Shepherd's  Bush  by  a  single  highwayman,  who  stripped  him 
so  clean  that  he  could  not  pay  the  turnpike,  but  was  obliged  to  leave  his 
bridle  as  security  for  the  money." — Ibid.  Jan.  16. 

Jan.  23  was  the  day  after  that  of  the  nomination  for  the  election  for  the 
county  of  Surrey,  held  at  Epsom.  "  This  morning  early,  two  gentlemen, 
returning  from  the  general  meeting  held  yesterday,  at  Epsom,  were  robbed 
a  little  on  this  side  that  place,"  by  three  footpads;  "the  villains  wished 
them  joy  of  their  electioneering." — Ibid.  Jan.  23. 

The  operations  of  these  depredators  were  no  doubt 
assisted  by  the  neglect  of  the  roads,  and  by  the  darkness 
of  the  January  nights.  The  London  Chronicle,  in  the 
earlier  half  of  the  month,  informs  us  that — 

"It  was  so  very  dark  on  Tuesday  night  last  (January  6),  that  seven 
coaches  and  post-chaises  were  overturned  between  Greenwich  and  Dart- 
ford,  and  remained  there  till  Wednesday  morning." 


^aQtxtxm,  €mm*,  uvto  ^itnisljments. 


Ancient  Civil  Punishments. 

In  the  White  Book,  compiled  by  Richard  Carpenter, 
1419,  in  the  Mayoralty  of  Richard  Whittington,  we  find 
these  curious  enactments, 

Foreign  merchants  were  not  allowed  to  deal  with 
foreign  merchants,  or  "  merchant  strangers,"  as  they 
were  called  ;  and  in  an  instance  where  this  regulation 
was  infringed,  the  merchandise  was  forfeited.  In  the 
same  manner  a  foreigner  forfeited  meat  which  he  had 
sold  after  the  curfew  had  been  rung  out  at  St  Martin's- 
le-Grand.  A  merchant  who  had  set  a  price  upon  his 
own  corn  was  sent  to  prison,  and  another  was  sentenced 
to  the  pillory  for  offering  to  sell  corn  above  the  common 
selling  price.  A  chaplain  was  committed  to  the  Tun  (a 
round  prison  on  Cornhill)  for  "being  a  night-walker;"  a 
publican  was  sentenced  to  the  thew  (a  sort  of  pillory) 
for  using  a  false  quart ;  certain  bakers  who  had  holes  in 
their  tables,  by  means  whereof  (through  some  contriv- 
ance unknown  to  us  simple  men  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury) they  contrived  to  steal  their  neighbours'  dough, 
were  condemned  to  the  pillory ;  one  woman  was  sent  to 
the  Tun  for  being  out  at  night  after  lawful  hours,  and 
another  was  sentenced  to  the  thew  for  being  a  "  common 
scold  ;"  furs  were  forfeited  because  they  had  new  work 
with  old  ;   a  man  was  fjned  half  a  mark  for  drawing 


Ancient  Civil  Punishments.  271 

a  sword ;  and  amongst  a  number  of  punishments  for 
deceptions,  scandals,  and  evil-speaking,  one  person  was 
adjudged  imprisonment  for  a  year  and  a  day,  and  the 
pillory  once  a  quarter  for  three  hours,  with  a  whetstone 
tied  round  his  neck,  for  lies  that  were  disproved. 

Amongst  the  punishments  that  most  frequently  occur 
are  the  forfeitures,  fines,  imprisonments,  and  pillories 
awarded  for  selling  "  putrid  meat,"  "  stinking  fish,"  birds 
that  were  not  fit  to  be  eaten,  and  bread  with  pieces  of 
iron  in  it,  probably  intended  to  increase  its  weight.     The 
arts  of  fraud  were  never  practised  more  dexterously,  or 
over  a  larger  surface,  than  by  our  virtuous  progenitors 
of  the   twelfth  and  thirteenth   centuries.      There  was 
scarcely  a   single   craft   in  which   duplicities  were  not 
committed  ;  and  the  records  teem  with  illustrations  of 
these  delinquencies,  some  of  them,  indeed,  being  unintel- 
ligible in  the  present  day.     We  hear,  for  example,  of 
"false   hats,"    "false    bow-strings,"    "false   queeks"    (a 
kind  of  chess-board),  and  "  false  gloves,  breeches,  and 
pouches."      Other  swindles  are  more  comprehensible : 
such  as  hides  imperfectly  tanned;  plated  latten  sold  for 
silver ;  drinking  measures  with  a  thick  coat  of  pitch  in- 
serted in  the  bottom,  to  diminish  their  capacity  ;  false 
dice  ;  and  coal-sacks  of  deficient  size.     In  some  cases 
the  forfeited  articles  were  burned ;  in  others  they  were 
seized  and  detained  ;  and  in  many  instances  the  fraudu- 
lent dealers  were  personally  punished.     Nor  was  the 
watchfulness  of  the  city  authorities  limited  to  the  crimes 
of  trade ;  morals  were  looked  after  with  equal  activity. 
Anybody  who  walked  out  at  unseasonable  hours,  or 
who  bought  or  sold  after  curfew,  was  at  once  pounced 
upon  (unless  he  was  lucky  enough  to  effect  his  escape 
through   the   favouring  darkness),  and    lodged    in    the 


272  Romance  of  London. 

round-house  on  Cornhill ;  cut-purses,  who  were  adroit, 
numerous,  and  possessed  of  unbounded  audacity,  were 
generally  consigned  to  the  pillory ;  and  the  same  fate 
awaited  any  ingenious  vagrant  who  practised  the  "  Art 
of  Magic."* 

Cage  and  Stocks  at  Loudon  Bridge. 

We  do  not  find  that  in  the  days  of  Queen  Mary,  Lon- 
don Bridge  was  made  the  scene  of  any  of  the  numerous 
Protestant  martyrdoms,  which  have  eternally  blotted 
her  short  but  sanguinary  reign.  There  is,  however,  in 
Foxe's  Martyrs  a  short  anecdote  of  a  curious  incident 
in  St  Magnus  Church.  Upon  the  death  of  Pope  Julius 
III.,  in  1555,  Stephen  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester 
and  Lord  Chancellor,  wrote  to  Bonner,  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don, to  command  him,  in  Queen  Mary's  name,  to  order 
those  prayers  to  be  used  throughout  his  diocese  which 
the  Roman  Church  has  appointed  during  a  vacancy  in 
.the  Papal  See.  Upon  this  commandment,  says  Foxe, 
on  Wednesday  in  Easter  week,  the  17th  of  April,  there 
were  hearses  set  up,  and  dirges  sung,  for  the  said  Julius 
in  divers  places.  Now,  it  chanced  that  a  woman  came 
into  St  Magnus  Church,  at  the  bridge-foot,  and  there 
seeing  a  hearse,  and  other  preparation,  asked  what  it 
meant ;  a  bystander  said  it  was  for  the  Pope,  and  that 
she  must  pray  for  him.  "Nay,"  quoth  she,  "that  I  will 
not,  for  he  needeth  not  my  prayer ;  and  seeing  he  could 
fomive  us  all  our  sins,  I  am  sure  he  is  clean  himself: 
therefore,  I  need  not  pray  for  him."  She  was  heard  to 
say  these  dangerous  words  ;  and  by  and  by  was  carried 
unto  the  cage  at  London  Bridge,  and  "  bade  coole  her- 

*  Abridged  from  the  London  Review. 


Flogging  at  Bridewell.  273 

selfe  there."  In  some  of  the  editions  of  Foxe,  there  is 
an  engraving  representing  this  incident,  which  shows 
that  the  Stocks  and  Cage  stood  by  one  of  the  archways 
on  the  -bridge,  and  in  one  of  the  vacant  spaces  which 
looked  on  to  the  water. 

About  half  a  century  before  this,  Cages  and  Stocks 
had  been  ordered  to  be  set  up  in  every  ward  of  the  city 
by  Sir  William  Capell,  draper,  and  Lord  Mayor,  in 
1503.  The  last  Stocks  were  removed  about  forty  years 
since. 

Flogging  at  Bridewell. 

One  of  the  sights  of  London  formerly  was  to  go  to 
Bridewell  Hospital,  in  Blackfriars,  and  there  see  the 
unfortunate  prisoners  flogged  for  offences  committed 
without  the  prison.  Both  men  and  women,  it  appears, 
were  whipped  on  their  naked  backs,  before  the  Court  of 
Governors.  The  President  sat  with  his  hammer  in  his 
hand,  and  the  culprit  was  taken  from  the  post  when  the 
hammer  fell.  The  calls  to  knock  when  women  were 
flogged  were  loud  and  incessant — "  Oh,  good  Sir  Robert, 
knock !  Pray,  good  Sir  Robert,  knock,"  which  became 
at  length  a  common  cry  of  reproach  among  the  lower 
orders,  to  denote  that  a  woman  of  bad  character  had 
been  whipped  in  Bridewell : 

"This  labour  past,  by  Bridewell  all  descend, 
As  morning  prayers  and  flagellations  end." 

Pope's  Dunciad. 

Ned  Ward,  in  his  London  Spy,  gives  this  account  of 
the  Bridewell  Whippings  in  1699: — "We  turned  into 
the  gate  of  a  stately  edifice  my  friend  told  me  was 
Bridewell,  which  to  me  seemed  rather  a  prince's  palace 

vol.  1.  s 


274  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

than  a  house  of  correction ;  till  gazing  round  me,  I  saw 
in  a  room  a  parcel  of  ill-looking  mortals,  stripped  to 
their  shirts  like  haymakers  pounding  a  pernicious  weed, 
which  I  thought,  from  their  unlucky  aspects,  seemed  to 
threaten  their  destruction.  From  thence  we  turned  into 
another  court,  the  buildings  being,  like  the  former,  mag- 
nificently noble  ;  where  straight  before  us  was  another 
grate,  which  proved  the  women's  apartment.  We  fol- 
lowed our  noses,  and  walked  up  to  take  a  view  of  the 
ladies,  who  we  found  were  shut  up  as  close  as  nuns; 
but,  like  so  many  slaves,  were  under  the  care  and  direc- 
tion of  an  overseer,  who  walked  about  with  a  very  flexible 
weapon  of  offence,  to  correct  such  hempen-journeywomen 
as  were  unhappily  troubled  with  the  spirit  of  idleness. 
My  friend  now  reconducted  me  into  the  first  quadrangle, 
and  led  me  up  a  pair  of  stairs  into  a  spacious  chamber, 
where  the  court  was  sat  in  great  grandeur  and  order. 
A  grave  gentleman  was  mounted  in  the  judgment-seat, 
armed  with  a  hammer,  like  a  change-broker  at  Lloyd's 
Coffee-house,  and  a  woman  under  the  lash  in  the  next 
room,  where  folding-doors  were  opened,  that  the  whole 
court  might  view  the  punishment.  At  last  down  went 
the  hammer,  and  the  scourging  ceased ;  so  that,  I  pro- 
test, till  I  was  undeceived  I  thought  they  had  sold 
their  lashes  by  auction.  The  honourable  court,  I  ob- 
served, was  chiefly  attended  by  fellows  in  blue  coats 
and  women  in  blue  aprons.  Another  accusation  being 
then  delivered  by  a  flat-cap  against  a  poor  wench,  who 
having  no  friend  to  speak  in  her  behalf,  proclamation  was 

made,  viz., '  All  you  who  are  willing  E th  T 11 

should  have  present  punishment,  pray  hold  up  your 
hands ;'  which  was  done  accordingly,  and  she  was 
ordered  the  civility  of  the  house."     Hogarth,   in   the 


Witchcraft  Penance  on  London  Bridge.  275 

Fourth  Plate  of  his  Harlot's  Progress,  tells  the  moral 
story. 

Madam  Creswell,  the  celebrated  gay  woman  of  King 
Charles  the  Second's  reign,  died  a  prisoner  in  Bridewell. 
She  desired  by  will  to  have  a  sermon  preached  at  her 
funeral,  for  which  the  preacher  was  to  have  £10;  but 
upon  this  express  condition,  that  he  was  to  say  nothing 
but  what  was  well  of  her.  After  a  sermon  on  the 
general  subject  of  morality,  the  preacher  concluded 
with  saying,  "  By  the  will  of  the  deceased,  it  is  expected 
that  I  should  mention  her,  and  say  nothing  but  what 
was  WELL  of  her.  All  that  I  shall  say  of  her,  therefore, 
is  this :  She  was  born  well,  she  lived  well,  and  she  died 
well;  for  she  was  born  with  the  name  of  Creszvell,  she 
lived  in  Clerkenwell,  and  she  died  in  Brldezvell." 

In  the  precincts  of  Bridewell  lived  John  Rose,  who  is 
said  by  Stow  to  have  invented  a  lute  early  in  the  reign 
of  Queen  Elizabeth:  he  is  also  thought  to  have  been 
"  Rose,  the  old  Viol-maker;"  concerts  of  viols  being  the 
musical  entertainments  after  the  practice  of  singing 
madrigals  grew  into  disuse.  To  this  John  Rose's  son  is 
traced  the  "  Old  Rose,"  immortalised  in  the  song  men- 
tioned by  Izaak  Walton,  and  known  to  us  by  "  Sing  Old 
Rose,  and  burn  the  bellows." 

Witchcraft  Penance  on  London  Bridge. 

In  the  year  1440,  the  Bridge  Street,  by  which  is  meant 
as  well  the  passage  over  the  Thames  as  the  main  street 
beyond  it  on  each  side,  was  one  scene  of  the  public 
penance  of  Eleanor  Cobham,  Duchess  of  Gloucester,  for 
Witchcraft.  The  inflexible  honesty  of  the  Duke,  who 
was  Protector  of  England  during  the  minority  of  Henry 


276  Romance  of  London. 

VI.,  and  presumptive  heir  to  the  Crown,  had  created 
against  him  a  violent  party,  the  heads  of  which  were 
Cardinal  Henry  Beaufort,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and 
William  de  la  Pole,  first  Duke  of  Suffolk.  With  regard 
to  his  sovereign,  however,  not  all  the  spies  which  were 
placed  about  Humphrey  Plantaganet,  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester, by  these  powerful  and  inveterate  enemies,  could 
find  even  a  pretence  for  the  slightest  charge;  though 
that  which  they  were  unable  to  discover  in  him,  they 
found  in  his  Duchess,  who  was  then  accused  of  Witch- 
craft and  High  Treason.  It  was  asserted  that  she  had 
frequent  conferences  with  one  Sir  Roger  Bolinbroke,  a 
priest,  who  was  supposed  to  be  a  necromancer ;  and 
Margaret  Jourdain,  a  witch  of  Eye,  near  Westminster ; 
assisted  and  advised  by  John  Hum,  a. priest;  and 
Thomas  Southwell,  Priest  and  Canon  of  St  Stephen's, 
Westminster.  Shakspeare,  in  his  Second  Part  of  Henry 
VI.,  Act  I.,  Scene  2,  makes  the  Duchess  ask  Hum — 

Hast  thou  as  yet  conferr'd 
With  Margery  Jourdain,  the  cunning  witch  ; 
And  Roger  Bolinbroke,  the  conjuror  ? 
And  will  they  undertake  to  do  me  good  ? 

Hum.  This  they  have  promised, — to  show  your  highness 
A  spirit  rais'd  from  depth  of  underground, 
That  shall  make  answer  to  such  questions, 
As  by  your  grace  shall  be  propounded  him. 

Again,  in  Scene  4,  we  have  Bolinbroke  at  his  work, 
assisted  by  Mother  Jourdain,  and  Southwell,  the 
priest  : — 

Duchess.  Well  said,  my  masters  ;  and  welcome  all 
To  this  geer ;  the  sooner  the  better. 

Bolin.  Patience,  good  lady ;  wizards  know  their  times  : 
Deep  night,  dark  night,  the  silent  of  the  night, 
The  time  of  night  when  Troy  was  set  on  fire  ; 


Witchcraft  Penance  on  London  Bridge.  277 

The  time  when  screech-owls  cry,  and  ban-dogs  howl, 
And  spirits  walk,  and  ghosts  break  up  their  graves, — 
That  time  best  fits  the  work  we  have  in  hand. 
Madam,  sit  you,  and  fear  not ;  whom  we  raise, 
We  will  make  fast  within  a  hallow'd  verge. 

Here  they  perform  the  ceremonies  appertaining,  and 
make  the  circle  ;  Bolinbroke,  or  Southwell,  reads,  "  Con- 
juro  te,"  &c.  It  thunders  and  lightens  terribly;  then 
the  spirit  riseth,  &c.  York  and  Buckingham  enter 
hastily,  and  lay  hands  upon  "  the  traitors  and  their 
trash."  In  Act  II.,  Scene  1,  Buckingham  thus  describes 
to  the  King  the  actors  : — 


*fc> 


A  sort  of  naughty  persons,  lewdly  bent, — ■ 
Under  the  countenance  and  confederacy 
Of  Lady  Eleanor,  the  Protector's  wife, 
The  ringleader  and  head  of  all  this  rout, — 
Have  practis'd  dangerously  against  your  state, 
Dealing  with  witches,  and  with  conjurors  : 
Whom  we  have  apprehended  in  the  fact  ; 
Raising  up  wicked  spirits  from  underground. 

In  Scene  3,  we  have  the  sentence,  and  next  the  pen- 
ance. The  Duchess,  though  made  to  ask  questions  as 
to  the  King's  fate,  was  in  reality  charged  with  having 
his  image  made  of  wax,  which,  being  placed  before  a 
slow  fire,  should  cause  his  strength  to  decay  as  the  wax 
melted.  The  result  of  the  inquiry  was  that  Jourdain 
was  burned  in  Smithfield  : — 

The  witch  in  Smithfield  shall  be  burned  to  ashes. 

Southwell  died  before  his  execution  in  the  Tower ; 
Bolinbroke  was  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered  at  Tyburn  ; 
and  on  November  9th,  the  Duchess  was  sentenced  to 
perform  public  penance  at  three  open  places  in  London. 
On  Monday,  the  13th,  she  came  by  water  from  West- 


278  Romance  of  London. 

minster,  and  landing  at  the  Temple  Bridge,  walked,  at 
noon-day,  through  Fleet  Street,  bearing  a  waxen  taper 
of  two  pounds  weight  to  St  Paul's,  where  she  offered  it 
at  the  high  altar.  On  the  Wednesday  following  she 
landed  at  the  Old  Swan,  and  passed  through  Bridge 
Street  and  Gracechurch  Street  to  Leadenhall,  and  at 
Cree  Church,  near  Aldgate,  made  her  second  offering  ; 
and  on  the  ensuing  Friday  she  was  put  on  shore  at 
Oueenhithe,  whence  she  proceeded  to  St  Michael's 
Church,  Cornhill,  and  so  completed  her  penance.  In 
each  of  these  processions  her  head  was  covered  only  by 
a  kerchief ;  her  feet  were  bare  ;  scrolls,  containing  a 
narrative  of  her  crime,  were  affixed  to  her  white  dress ; 
and  she  was  received  and  attended  by  the  Mayor, 
Sheriffs,  and  Companies  of  London. 

From  the  Harleian  MS.,  No.  585,  we  learn  more  pre- 
cisely the  fate  of  Roger  Bolinbroke — that  the  same  day 
on  which  he  was  condemned  at  Guildhall,  he  was  drawn 
from  the  Tower  of  London  to  Tyburn,  and  there  hanged, 
headed,  and  quartered,  and  his  head  set  up  on  London 
Bridge  :  his  quarters  were  disposed  of  at  Hereford, 
Oxford,  York,  and  Cambridge. 

Striking  in  the  Kings  Court. 

CONTEMPTS  against  the  royal  palaces  have  been  always 
looked  upon  as  high  offences ;  and  by  the  ancient  law 
before  the  Conquest,  fighting  in  the  king's  palace,  or 
before  the  king's  judges,  was  punished  with  death.  By 
the  statute  33  Henry  VIII.,  c.  12,  malicious  striking  in 
the  king's  palace,  wherein  his  royal  person  resides, 
whereby  blood  is  drawn,  was  punishable  by  perpetual 
imprisonment,  and  fine  at  the  king's  pleasure,  and  also 


Striking  in  the  Kings  Court.  279 

with  the  loss  of  the  offender's  right  hand  ;  the  solemn 
execution  of  which  sentence  is  prescribed  in  the  statute 
at  length ;  but  by  9  Geo.  IV.,  c.  31,  this  punishment  is 
repealed.  It  appears,  however,  to  be  a  contempt  of  the 
kind  now  in  question  to  execute  the  ordinary  process  of 
the  law,  by  arrest  or  otherwise,  within  the  verge  of  a 
royal  palace,  or  in  the  Tower,  unless  permission  be  first 
obtained  from  the  proper  authority* 

Sir  Richard  Baker,  in  his  Chronicle,  thus  minutely 
describes  the  execution  of  the  above  barbarous  sen- 
tence : — 

On  the  10th  of  June  1541,  Sir  Edmund  Knevet  of 
Norfolk,  Knight,  was  arraigned  before  the  officers  of  the 
Green  Cloth  for  striking  one  Master  Cleer  of  Norfolk, 
within  the  Tennis  Court  of  the  King's  House.  Being 
found  guilty,  he  had  judgment  to  lose  his  right  hand, 
and  to  forfeit  all  his  lands  and  goods  ;  whereupon  there 
was  called  to  do  execution,  first,  the  Sergeant  Surgeon, 
with  his  instruments  pertaining  to  his  office ;  then  the 
Sergeant  of  the  Wood-yard,  with  a  mallet  and  block  to 
lay  the  hand  upon  ;  then  the  King's  Master  Cook,  with 
a  knife  to  cut  off  the  hand  ;  then  the  Sergeant  of  the 
Larder,  to  set  the  knife  right  on  the  joint ;  then  the 
Sergeant  Farrier,  with  searing-irons  to  sear  the  veins  ; 
then  the  Sergeant  of  the  Poultry,  with  a  cock,  which 
cock  should  have  his  head  smitten  off  upon  the  block,  and 
with  the  same  knife  ;  then  the  Yeoman  of  Chandry, 
with  sear-cloths  ;  then  the  Yeoman  of  the  Scullery,  with 
a  pan  of  fire  to  heat  the  irons,  a  chafer  of  water  to  cool 
the  ends  of  the  irons,  and  two  forms  for  all  officers  to  set 
their  stuff  on  ;  then  the  Sergeant  of  the  Cellar,  with 
wine,  ale,  and  beer ;  then  the  Sergeant  of  the  Ewry, 

*  Stephen's  Commentaries. 


2  8  o  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

with  bason,  ewre,  and  towels.  All  things  being  thus 
prepared,  Sir  William  Pickering,  Knight-Marshal,  was 
commanded  to  bring  in  his  prisoner,  Sir  Edmund 
Knevet,  to  whom  the  Chief-Justice  declared  his  offence, 
which  the  said  Knevet  confessed,  and  humbly  submitted 
himself  to  the  king's  mercy  ;  only  he  desired  that  the 
king  would  spare  his  right  hand  and  take  his  left  ;  "Be- 
cause," said  he,  "  if  my  right  hand  be  spared,  I  may  live 
to  do  the  king  good  service  : "  of  whose  submission  and 
reason  of  his  suit,  when  the  king  was  informed,  he 
granted  him  to  lose  neither  of  his  hands,  and  pardoned 
him  also  of  his  lands  and  goods. — Chronicle,  ed. 
1674. 

Chamberlayne  describes  the  ceremony  as  follows  : — 
The  Sergeant  of  the  King's  Wood-yard  brings  to  the 
place  of  execution  a  square  block,  a  beetle,  and  a  staple 
and  cords  to  fasten  the  hands  thereto.  The  Yeoman  of 
the  Scullery  provides  a  great  fire  of  coals  by  the  block, 
where  the  searing-irons,  brought  by  the  chief  Farrier, 
are  to  be  ready  for  the  chief  Surgeon  to  use.  Vinegar 
and  cold  water  are  to  be  brought  by  the  Groom  of  the 
Saucery ;  and  the  chief  officers  of  the  Cellar  and  Pantry 
are  to  be  ready,  one  with  a  cup  of  red  wine,  and  the 
other  with  a  manchet,  to  offer  the  criminal.  The  Ser- 
geant of  the  Ewry  is  to  bring  the  linen  to  wind  about  and 
wrap  the  arm  ;  the  Yeoman  of  the  Poultry,  a  cock  to 
lay  to  it ;  the  Yeoman  of  the  Chandlery,  seared  cloths ; 
and  the  Master  Cook,  a  sharp  dresser-knife,  which  at 
the  place  of  execution  is  to  be  held  upright  by  the 
Sergeant  of  the  Larder,  till  execution  be  performed  by 
an  officer  appointed  thereunto.  After  all,  the  criminal 
shall  be  imprisoned  during  life,  and  fined  and  ransomed 
at  the  king's  will. 


Torture. — The  Rack.  2  8 1 


Torture. — The  Rack. 

When,  in  1628,  Felton  was  about  to  be  put  on  his  trial 
for  the  assassination  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  it  was 
suggested  by  the  King  that  Felton  might  be  put  to  the 
rack,  in  order  to  make  him  discover  his  accomplices ; 
but  the  judges  unanimously  declared  that  the  laws  of 
England  did  not  allow  the  use  of  torture.  This  was  the 
first  adjudication  of  the  illegality  of  this  mode  of  ex- 
torting confession.  Lingard  says,  upon  this  point : — 
"  Notwithstanding  the  formal  opinion  of  the  judges  in 
the  case  of  Felton,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  practice 
continued  during  the  whole  reign  of  Charles  I.,  as  a 
warrant  for  applying  the  torture  to  one  Archer,  in  1640, 
is  to  be  seen  at  the  State  Paper  Office.  This,  however, 
appears  to  have  been  the  last  occasion  on  which  this 
odious  practice  was  resorted  to.  There  is  no  trace  of  it 
during  the  Commonwealth  ;  and  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
II.,  where  we  might  have  expected  to  find  it,  there  is  not 
a  single  well-authenticated  instance  of  the  application  of 
the  torture. 

"  The  following  is  an  account  of  the  kinds  of  torture 
chiefly  employed  in  the  Tower: — The  rack  was  a  large 
open  frame  of  oak,  raised  three  feet  from  the  ground. 
The  prisoner  was  laid  under  it  on  his  back  on  the  floor ; 
his  wrists  and  ankles  were  attached  by  cords  to  two 
collars  at  the  ends  of  the  frame  ;  these  were  moved  by 
levers  in  opposite  directions,  till  the  body  rose  to  a  level 
with  the  frame ;  questions  were  then  put,  and  if  the 
answers,  did  not  prove  satisfactory  the  sufferer  was 
stretched  more  and  more,  till  the  bones  started  from 
their  sockets.     The  '  scavenger's  daughter  '  was  a  broad 


282  Romance  of  L  ondon, 

hoop  of  iron,  so  called,  consisting  of  two  parts,  fastened 
to  each  other  by  a  hinge.  The  prisoner  was  made  to 
kneel  on  the  pavement,  and  to  contract  himself  into  as 
small  a  compass  as  he  could.  Then  the  executioner, 
kneeling  on  his  shoulders,  and  having  introduced  the 
hoop  under  his  legs,  compressed  the  victim  close  to- 
gether, till  he  was  able  to  fasten  the  extremities  over 
the  small  of  the  back.  The  time  allotted  to  this  kind 
of  torture  was  an  hour  and  a  half,  during  which  time 
it  commonly  happened  that  from  excess  of  compression 
the  blood  started  from  the  nostrils  ;  sometimes,  it  was 
believed,  from  the  extremities  of  the  hands  and  feet. 
Iron  gauntlets,  which  could  be  contracted  by  the  aid  of 
a  screw;  these  were  also  called  manacles.  They  served 
to  compress  the  wrists,  and  to  suspend  the  prisoner  in 
the  air,  from  two  distant  points  of  a  beam.  He  was 
placed  on  three  pieces  of  wood  piled  one  on  the  other, 
which,  when  his  hands  had  been  made  fast,  were  suc- 
cessively withdrawn  from  under  his  feet.  '  I  felt,'  said 
F.  Gerard,  one  of  the  sufferers  for  the  Gunpowder  Plot, 
'  the  chief  pain  in  my  breast,  belly,  arms,  and  hands. 
I  thought  that  all  the  blood  in  my  body  had  run  into 
my  arms,  and  began  to  burst  out  at  my  fingers'  ends. 
This  was  a  mistake ;  but  the  arms  swelled  till  the 
gauntlets  were  buried  within  the  flesh.  After  being 
thus  suspended  an  hour  I  fainted,  and  when  I  came  to 
myself  I  found  the  executioners  supporting  me  in  their 
arms  ;  they  replaced  the  pieces  of  wood  under  my  feet, 
but  as  soon  as  I  was  recovered  they  removed  them 
again.  Thus  I  continued  hanging  for  the  space  of  five 
hours,  during  which  I  fainted  eight  or  nine  times.' 

"A  fourth  kind  of  torture  was  a  cell  called   'Little 
Ease/  of  so  small  dimensions,  and  so  constructed  that  the 


Pressing  to  Death.  283 

prisoner  could  neither  stand,  walk,  sit,  nor  lie  in  it  at  full- 
length  ;  he  was  compelled  to  draw  himself  up  in  a  squat- 
ting posture,  and  so  remain  during  several  days." 

Hallam  observes,  that  though  the  English  law  never 
recognised  the  use  of  torture,  yet  there  were  many 
instances  of  its  employment  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth 
and  James ;  and,  among  others,  in  the  case  of  the 
Gunpowder  Plot.  He  says,  indeed,  that  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  "  the  rack  seldom  stood 
idle  in  the  Tower." 

SirWalter  Raleigh,  at  his  trial,  mentioned  that  Kentish 
was  threatened  with  the  rack,  and  that  the  keeper  of 
this  horrid  instrument  was  sent  for.  Campion,  a  Jesuit, 
was  put  to  the  rack  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth ;  and  in 
Collier's  Ecclesiastical  History  are  mentioned  other  in- 
stances during  the  same  reign.  Bishop  Burnet,  like- 
wise, in  his  History  of  the  Reformation,  states  that  Anne 
Askew  was  tortured  in  the  Tower  in  1546  ;  and  that  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  throwing  off  his  gown,  drew  the  rack 
so  severely  that  he  almost  tore  her  body  asunder.*  It 
appears  from  the  Cecil  Papers  that  all  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk's  servants  were  tortured  by  order  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  who  also  threatened  Hayward,  the  historian, 
with  the  rack. 

Pressing  to  Deafh. 

BETWEEN  the  Court-house  in  the  Old  Bailey  and 
Newgate  prison  is  a  large  open  space,  known  as  the 
Press-yard,  from  its  having  been  the  scene  of  the  ter- 
rible punishment  of  "  Pressing  to  Death  "  for  standing 

*  Prints  of  the  Rack  are  to  be  seen  in  the  old  edition  of  Foxe's  "Book 
of  Martyrs." 


284  Romance  of  L  on  don. 

mute — that  is,  when  a  prisoner,  arraigned  for  treason 
or  felony,  either  made  no  answer  at  all,  or  answered 
foreign  to  the  purpose.  He  was  examined  by  judges  : 
if  found  to  be  obstinately  mute,  then,  in  treason,  it  was 
held  that  standing  mute  was  equivalent  to  conviction  ; 
and  the  law  was  the  same  as  to  all  misdemeanours. 
But  upon  indictment  for  any  other  felony,  the  prisoner, 
after  trina  admonitio,  and  a  respite  of  a  few  hours,  was 
subject  to  the  barbarous  sentence  of  peine  forte  et  dure  ; 
viz.,  to  be  remanded  to  prison  and  put  into  a  low  dark 
chamber,  and  there  laid  on  his  back  on  the  bare  floor 
naked,  unless  where  decency  forbade ;  that  there  should 
be  placed  on  his  body  as  great  a  weight  of  iron  as  he 
could  bear,  and  more  :  that  he  should  have  no  susten- 
ance, save  only  on  the  first  day  three  morsels  of  the 
worst  bread,  and  on  the  second  three  draughts  of  stand- 
ing water  that  should  be  nearest  to  the  prison-door  ; 
and  that,  in  this  situation,  such  should  be  alternately 
his  daily  diet  till  he  died,  or,  as  anciently  the  judgment 
ran,  till  he  answered. 

In  the  Perfct  Account  of  the  Daily  Intelligence,  April 
1 6th,  165 1,  we  find  it  recorded  : — "  Mond.  April  14th. — 
This  Session,  at  the  Old  Bailey,  were  four  men  pressed 
to  death  that  were  all  in  one  robbery,  and,  out  of 
obstinacy  and  contempt  of  the  court,  stood  mute  and 
refused  to  plead." 

It  appears  from  the  Session  Papers  that  tying  the 
thumbs  together  of  criminals,  in  order  to  compel  them 
to  plead,  was  practised  at  the  Old  Bailey  in  the  reign 
of  Queen  Anne.  Among  the  cases  is  that  of  Mary 
Andrews,  in  172 1,  who  continued  so  obstinate  that 
three  whipcords  were  broken  before  she  would  plead. 
And  in  171 1,  Nathaniel  Haws  had  his  thumbs  squeezed, 


Pressing  tc  Death.  285 

after  which  he  continued  seven  minutes  under  the  press 
with  250  lbs.,  and  then  submitted. 

In  the  year  1659,  Major  Strangewayes  was  tried 
before  Lord  Chief-Justice  Glyn  for  the  murder  of  Mr 
John  Fussel,  and,  refusing  to  plead,  was  pressed  to  death. 
By  the  account  of  this  execution,  which  is  added  to  the 
printed  trial,  he  died  in  about  eight  minutes,  many 
people  in  the  Press-yard  casting  stones  upon  him  to 
hasten  his  death.  From  the  description  of  the  press,  it 
appears  that  it  was  brought  nearly  to  a  point  where  it 
touched  his  breast.  It  is  stated  likewise  to  have  been 
usual  to  put  a  sharp  piece  of  wood  under  the  criminal, 
which  might  meet  the  upper  part  of  the  rack  in  the 
sufferer's  body.  Holinshed  states  that  the  back  of  the 
criminal  was  placed  upon  a  sharp  stone.  Other  prece- 
dents mention  the  tying  his  arms  and  legs  with  cords, 
fastened  at  different  parts  of  the  prison,  and  extending 
the  limbs  as  far  as  they  could  be  stretched.* 

No.  674  of  the  Universal  Spectator  records  two  in- 
stances of  pressing  in  the  reign  of  George  II.  : — "Sept. 
5,  1741. — On  Tuesday  was  sentenced  to  death  at  the 
Old  Bailey,  Henry  Cook,  the  shoemaker,  of  Stratford, 
for  robbing  Mr  Zachary  on  the  highway.  On  Cook's 
refusing  to  plead,  there  was  a  new  press  made,  and  fixed 
to  the  proper  place  in  the  Press-yard  ;  there  having  been 
no  person  pressed  since  the  famous  Spiggot,  the  high- 
wayman, which  is  about  twenty  years  ago.  Barnworth, 
alias  Frasier,  was  pressed  at  Kingston,  in  Surrey,  about 
sixteen  years  ago." 

These  horrible  details  have  often  been  discredited  ; 
but  records  of  pressing,  so  late  as  1770,  exist ;  with  the 
addition,  however,  that  "  the  punishment  was  seldom 
*  Barrington,  On  the  More  Ancient  Statutes. 


286  Romance  of  London. 

inflicted,  but  some  offenders  have  chose  it  in  order  to 
preserve  their  estates  for  their  children.  Those  guilty  of 
this  crime  are  not  now  suffered  to  undergo  such  a  length 
of  torture,  but  have  so  great  a  weight  placed  on  them 
that  they  soon  expire." 

Discovery  of  a  Murder. 

In  a  collection  of  anecdotes,  written  about  the  beginning 
of  the  last  century,  in  the  Rawlinson  MSS.,  is  the  fol- 
lowing singular  narrative  : — 

Dr  Airy,  Provost  of  Queen's  College,  Oxon.  (1599— 
1616),  passing  with  his  servant  accidentally  through  St 
Sepulchre's  Churchyard,  in  London,  where  the  sexton 
was  making  a  grave,  observing  a  skull  to  move,  showed 
it  to  his  servant,  and  then  to  the  sexton,  who,  taking  it 
up,  found  a  great  toad  in  it,  but  withal  observed  a  ten- 
penny  nail  stuck  in  the  temple-bone  ;  whereupon  the 
Doctor  presently  imagined  the  party  to  have  been 
murdered,  and  asked  the  sexton  if  he  remembered  whose 
skull  it  was.  He  answered  it  was  the  skull  of  a  man 
who  died  suddenly,  and  had  been  buried  twenty-two 
years  before.  The  Doctor  told  him  that  certainly  the 
man  was  murdered,  and  that  it  was  fitting  to  be  inquired 
after,  and  so  departed.  The  sexton  thinking  much  upon 
it,  remembered  some  particular  stories  talked  of  at  the 
death  of  the  party,  as  that  his  wife,  then  alive,  and  mar- 
ried to  another  person,  had  been  seen  to  go  into  his 
chamber  with  a  nail  and  hammer,  &c. ;  whereupon  he 
went 'to  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  told  him  all  the 
story.  The  wife  was  sent  for,  and  witnesses  were  found 
who  testified  that  and  some  other  particulars ;  she  con- 
fessed, and  was  hanged. 


Origin  of  the  Coventry  Act.  287 


Origin  of  the  Coventry  Act. 

The  famous  Coventry  Act  against  cutting  and  maiming 
had  its  origin  in  the  following  piece  of  barbarous 
revenge  : — Sir  John  Coventry  was  on  his  way  to  his  own 
house,  in  Suffolk  Street,  in  the  Haymarket,  from  the 
Cock  Tavern,  in  Bow  Street,  where  he  had  supped,  when 
his  nose  was  cut  to  the  bone  at  the  corner  of  the  street 
"  for  reflecting  on  the  King."  It  appears  that  a  motion 
had  recently  been  made  in  the  House  of  Commons  to 
lay  a  tax  on  playhouses.  The  Court  opposed  the 
motion.  The  players,  it  was  said  (by  Sir  John  Birken- 
head), were  the  King's  servants,  and  a  part  of  his  plea- 
sure. Coventry  asked,  "  Whether  did  the  King's  plea- 
sure lie  among  the  men  or  the  women  that  acted  ? " 
— perhaps  recollecting  more  particularly  the  King's  visit 
to  Moll  Davis,  in  Suffolk  Street,  where  Charles  had 
furnished  a  house  most  richly  for  her,  provided  her  with 
"  a  mighty  pretty  fine  coach,"  and  given  her  a  ring  of 
;£/00,  "  which,"  says  the  page,  "  is  a  most  infinite 
shame."  The  King  determined  to  leave  a  mark  upon 
Sir  John  Coventry  for  his  freedom  of  remark,  and  he 
was  watched  on  his  way  home.  "He  stood  up  to  the 
wall,"  says  Burnet,  "  and  snatched  the  flambeau  out  of 
the  servant's  hands  ;  and  with  that  in  one  hand,  and  the 
sword  in  the  other,  he  defended  himself  so  well,  that  he 
got  more  credit  by  it  than  by  all  the  actions  of  his  life. 
He  wounded  some  of  them,  but  was  soon  disarmed,  and 
they  cut  his  nose  to  the  bone,  to  teach  him  to  remember 
what  respect  he  owed  to  the  King."  Burnet  adds,  that 
his  nose  was  so  well  sewed  up,  that  the  scar  was  scarce 
to  be  discerned. 


288  Romance  of  L  oiidon . 

"  In  the  age  of  Charles,  the  ancient  high  and  chival- 
rous sense  of  honour  was  esteemed  Quixotic,  and  the 
Civil  War  had  left  traces  of  ferocity  in  the  manners  and 
sentiments  of  the  people.  Encounters,  where  the  as- 
sailants took  all  advantages  of  number  and  weapons, 
were  as  frequent,  and  held  as  honourable,  as  regular 
duels.  Some  of  these  approached  closely  to  assassi- 
nation, as  in  the  above  case,  which  occasioned  the 
Coventry  Act,  an  Act  highly  necessary,  for  so  far  did 
our  ancestors'  ideas  of  manly  forbearance  differ  from 
ours,  that  Killigrew  introduces  the  hero  of  one  of  his 
comedies,  a  cavalier,  and  the  fine  gentleman  of  the 
piece,  lying  in  wait  for  and  slashing  the  face  of  a  poor 
courtezan  who  had  cheated  him."  * 


Rise  of  Judge  Jeffreys, 

TOWARDS  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  there 
was  a  rough  country-boy,  a  pupil  of  St  Paul's  School, 
who  stood  watching  a  procession  of  the  Judges  on  their 
way  to  dine  with  my  Lord  Mayor.  The  father  of-  the 
boy  wished  to  bind  him  apprentice  to  a  mercer ;  but 
the  aspiring  lad,  as  he  looked  on  the  train  of  Judges, 
registered  a  vow  that  he  too  would  one  day  ride  through 
the  City,  the  guest  of  the  Mayor,  and  die  a  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. His  sire  pronounced  him  mad,  and  resigned 
himself  to  the  idea  that  his  obstinate  son  would  one  day 
die  with  his  shoes  on. 

The  boy's  views,  however,  were  completely  realised, 
and  the  father's  prophecy  was  also  in  part  fulfilled.  The 
connection  of  the  notorious  Jeffreys  with  the  City  was, 

*  Leigh  Hunt's  Town. 


Rise  of  Judge  Jeffreys.  2S9 

from  an  early  period,  a  very  close  one.     He  drank  hard 
with,   and  worked  hard   for,  the   City  authorities,  and 
was  as  well  known  in  the  taverns  of  Aldermanbury  as 
Shaftesbury  was  in  the  same  district,  when  he  was  in- 
spired by  the  transitory  ambition  of  himself  becoming 
Vice-king  in  the  City.     From  the  time  that  Jeffreys 
became  Common  Serjeant — but  more  especially  from 
the  period  he  became  Recorder — he  kinged  it  over  the 
Vice-king.      He   was  Lord   Mayor,   Common  Council, 
Court  of  Aldermen,  and  supreme  Judge,  all  in  one  ;  and 
the  first-named  officer  had  really  a  melancholy  time  of 
it  during  the  period  Jeffreys  had  sway  in  the  City.     At 
the  feasts  he  was  a  tippling,  truculent  fellow, — brow- 
beating the  men,  and  staring  the  most  dauntless  of  the 
women  out  of  countenance.     In  the  latter  pastime  he 
was   well   matched,  perhaps   excelled,  by  his  learned 
brother  Trevor;  and   my  Lord   Mayor  Bludworth  had 
good  reason  to  remember  both  of  them.     The  Mayor 
had  a  fair  daughter,  the  young  and  wild  widow  of  a 
Welsh  squire,  and  one  who  made  City  entertainments 
brilliant  by  her  presence,  and  hilarious  by  her  conduct 
and  her  tongue.      There  was  a  wonderful  amount  of 
homage  rendered  to  this  Helen,  to  whom  it  mattered 
little  in  what  form  or  speech  the  homage  was  rendered. 
The  rudest  could  not  bring  a  blush  upon  her  cheek; 
her  ear  was  never  turned  away  from  any  suitor  of  the 
hour,  and  every  lover  was  received  with  a  laugh  and 
a    welcome    by   this    most   buxom    of    Lord    Mayor's 
daughters. 

When  she  finally  accepted  the  hand  of  Jeffreys,  her 
own  was  in  the  hand  of  Trevor  ;  and  no  City  match  was 
ever  so  productive  of  a  peculiar  sort  of  satirical  ballad 

as  this  one,  which  united  the  said  Mayor's  rather  too 
vol.  1.  .  t 


290  Romance  of  London. 

notorious  daughter  with  the  not  yet  too  infamous  Sir 
George.  Poets  and  poetasters  pelted  him  with  anony- 
mous epigrams ;  aldermen  drank  queer  healths  to  him 
in  their  cups ;  and  lively-tongued  women,  in  his  own 
court,  when  he  was  too  hard  upon  them,  would  thrust 
at  him  an  allusion  to  his  lady  from  Guildhall,  which 
would  put  him  into  a  fume  of  impotent  indignation. 

There  is  not  one  man  in  a  thousand,  probably,  who 
is  aware  that  the  blood  of  Jeffreys  and  the  Mayor  of 
London's  daughter  afterwards  flowed  in  noble  veins. 
They  had  an  only  son, — a  dissolute,  drunken  fellow,  with 
whom  even  aldermen  were  too  nice  to  have  a  carouse, 
and  whose  appearance  at  a  feast  scared  Mayors  who 
could  take  their  claret  liberally.  This  likely  youth, 
whose  intoxication  broke  down  the  solemnity  of  Dry- 
den's  funeral,  married,  in  spite  of  his  vices,  a  daughter 
and  sole  heiress  of  the  House  of  Pembroke.  The  only 
child  of  this  marriage  was  Henrietta,  who  married  the 
Earl  of  Pomfret,  and  enabled  Queen  Caroline  to  have  a 
grand-daughter  of  the  infamous  Judge  for  her  Lady  of 
the  Bedchamber.  One  of  Lady  Pomfret's  many  children, 
Charlotte  Finch,  was  well  known  to  many  of  our  sires. 
She  was  governess  to  George  the  Third's  children,  whom 
she  often  accompanied  to  the  City  to  witness  the  annual 
show;  the  great-great-grand-daughter  of  Judge  Jeffreys 
and  the  Guildhall  light-o'-love  thus  having  the  superin- 
tendence of  the  conduct  and  morals  of  the  young  Princes 
and  Princesses. — From  the  Athenczum,  No.  1723, 

Stories  of  the  Star-Chamber, 

THIS  odious  Court,  named  from  the  ceiling  of  the 
chamber  being  anciently  ornamented  with  gilded  stars, 


Stories  of  the  Star-Chamber.  291 

is  not  mentioned  as  a  Court  of  Justice  earlier  than  the 
reign  of  Henry  VII.,  about  which  time  the  old  titles  of 
"  the  Lords  sitting  in  the  Star-Chamber,"  and  "  the 
Council  in  the  Star-Chamber,"  seem  to  have  been 
merged  into  the  one  distinguishing  appellation  of  "  the 
Star-Chamber."  The  Judges,  before  and  subsequent  to 
this  alteration,  were  "  the  Lords  of  the  Council,"  as  they 
are  still  termed  in  the  Litany  of  the  Church  service. 
The  modes  of  proceeding  before  the  council  were  by 
the  mouth,  or  by  bill  and  answer.  After  the  sittings, 
the  Lords  dined  in  the  inner  Star-Chamber,  at  the 
public  expense.  In  political  cases,  "  soden  reporte,"  as 
it  was  called,  is  thought  to  have  meant  private  and 
secret  information  given  to  the  council.  The  person 
accused,  or  suspected,  was  immediately  apprehended 
and  privately  examined.  If  he  confessed  any  offence, 
or  if  the  cunning  examiner  drew  from  him,  or  he  let 
fall,  any  expressions  which  suited  their  purpose,  he  was 
at  once  brought  to  the  bar,  his  confession  or  examination 
was  read,  he  was  convicted  out  of  his  own  mouth,  and 
judgment  was  immediately  pronounced  against  him. 
Upon  admissions  of  immaterial  circumstances  thus 
aggravated,  and  distorted  into  confessions  of  guilt,  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland  was  prosecuted  by  word  of 
mouth,  in  the  Star-Chamber,  for  being  privy  to  the 
Gunpowder  Plot,  and  was  sentenced  to  pay  a  fine  of 
;£ 30,000,  and  be  imprisoned  for  life. 

The  Star-Chamber  held  its  sittings,  from  the  end  of 
Queen  Elizabeth's  reign  until  the  final  abolition  of  the 
court  by  Parliament  in  164.1,  in  apartments  on  the 
eastern  side  of  New  Palace  Yard  ;  these  buildings  bore 
the  date  1602,  and  E.  R.  and  an  open  rose  on  a  star; 
they    corresponded    with    the    "  Starre-Chamber"    in 


2  Q2  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

Aggas's  plan  of  London  in  1570.  The  last  of  the  build- 
ings was  taken  down  in  1836  ;  drawings  were  then  made 
of  the  court,  which  had  an  enriched  ceiling,  but  no 
remains  of  the  star  ornamentations,  notwithstanding, 
behind  the  Elizabethan  panelling,  the  style  of  the 
chamber  was  Tudor-Gothic.  The  remains  are  preserved 
at  Leasowe  Castle,  the  seat  of  the  Hon.  Sir  Edward 
Cust,  in  Cheshire. 

Imagination  can  scarcely  picture  a  more  terrible  judi- 
cature. This  tribunal  was  bound  by  no  law,  but  created 
and  defined  the  offences  it  punished ;  the  judges  were 
in  point  of  fact  the  prosecutors ;  and  every  mixture  of 
those  two  characters  is  inconsistent  with  impartial  jus- 
tice. Crimes  of  the  greatest  magnitude  were  treated  of 
in  this  court,  but  solely  punished  as  trespasses,  the 
council  not  having  dared  to  usurp  the  power  of  inflicting 
death. 

Among  the  many  abuses  of  the  process  was,  that  in 
the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  "many  solicitors  who 
lived  in  Wales,  Cornwall,  or  the  farthest  parts  of  the 
North,  did  make  a  trade  to  sue  forth  a  multitude  of 
subpoenas  to  vex  their  neighbours,  who,  rather  than 
they  would  travel  to  London,  would  give  them  any 
composition,  though  there  were  no  colour  of  complaint 
against  them."  The  process  might  anciently  be  served 
in  any  place :  in  Catholic  times,  usually  in  the  market 
or  the  church.  The  highest  number  of  the  council  who 
attended  the  court  in  the  reigns  of  Henry  VII.  and 
VIII.  was  nearly  forty,  of  whom  seven  or  eight  were 
prelates ;  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  the  number  was 
nearly  thirty,  but  it  subsequently  declined.  The  Chan- 
cellor was  the  supreme  judge,  and  alone  sat  with  his 
head   uncovered.      Upon  important  occasions,  persons 


Persons  of  Note  Imprisoned  in  the  Fleet.         293 

who  wished  "to  get  convenient  places  and  standing" 
went  there  by  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The 
counsel  were  confined  to  a  "laconical  brevity;"  the 
examinations  of  the  witnesses  were  read,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  court  delivered  their  opinions  in  order,  from 
the  inferior  upwards,  the  ,  Archbishop  preceding  the 
Chancellor. 

Every  punishment,  except  death,  was  assumed  to  be 
within  the  power  of  the  Star-Chamber  Court.  Pillory, 
fine  and  imprisonment,  and  whipping,  wearing  of  papers 
through  Westminster  Hall,  and  letters  "seared  in  the 
face  with  hot  irons,"  were  ordinary  punishments.  Henry 
VII.  had  a  fondness  for  sitting  in  the  Star-Chamber: 
the  court  was  the  great  instrument  for  his  "extort 
doynge;"  and  "the  King  took  the  matter  into  his  own 
hands,"  was  a  Star-Chamber  phrase  ;  and  "  my  attorney 
must  speak  to  you,"  was  a  sure  prelude  to  a  heavy  fine. 
"Wolsey  made  a  great  show  of  his  magnificence  in  the 
Star-Chamber;  he  proceeded  to  the  sittings  of  the 
court  in  great  state,  his  mace  and  seal  being  carried 
before  him;  "he  spared  neither  high  nor  low,  but 
judged  every  estate  according  to  their  merits  and 
deserts."  After  his  fall,  with  the  exception  of  occa- 
sional interference  in  religious  matters  and  matters  of 
police,  we  seldom  hear  of  the  Star-Chamber.  (See  the 
very  able  dissertation  by  John  Bruce,  F.S.A.,  Archeso- 
logia,  vol.  viii.) 

Persons  of  Note  Imprisoned  in  the  Fleet. 

For  nearly  eight  centuries  was  the  Fleet  a  place  of 
security  or  confinement,  and  the  terror  of  evil-doers  of 
almost  every  grade  :  its  cells  and  dungeons  were  tenanted 


294  Romance  of  London. 

by  political  and  religious  martyrs ;  besides  a  host  of 
men  of  more  pliant  consciences,  whom  the  law  stigma- 
tised as  debtors. 

The  early  history  of  the  prison  is  little  better  than  a 
sealed  book,  the  burning  of  the  building  by  Wat  Tyler 
being  the  only  noticeable  event.  By  the  regulations  of 
this  period,  the  Warden  might  arm  the  porters  at  the 
gates  with  halberts,  bills,  or  other  weapons. 

In  the  reigns  of  Edward  VI.  and  Queen  Mary,  several 
victims  of  those  bigoted  times  were  committed  here. 
Bishop  Hooper  was  twice  sentenced  to  the  Fleet,  which 
he  only  quitted,  in  1555,  for  the  stake  and  the  fire  at 
Gloucester.  In  the  Fleet  his  bed  was  "  a  little  pad  of 
straw,  with  a  rotten  covering  ;  his  chamber  was  vile  and 
stinking."  It  was  expected  that  he  would  have  accom- 
panied Rogers,  a  prebendary  of  St  Paul's,  to  the  stake ; 
but  Hooper,  after  his  trial,  was  led  back  to  his  cell,  to 
be  carried  down  to  Gloucester,  to  suffer  among  his  own 
people.  Next  morning  he  was  roused  at  four  o'clock, 
and  being  committed  to  the  care  of  six  of  Queen  Mary's 
guard,  they  took  him,  before  it  was  light,  to  the  Angel 
Inn,  St  Clement's,  tJien  standing  in  the  fields;  thence  he 
was  taken  to  Gloucester,  and  there  burnt,  with  dreadful 
torments,  on  the  9th  of  February :  the  spot  is  marked 
by  a  statue  of  the  Bishop,  beneath  a  Gothic  canopy, 
which  was  inaugurated  in  1863,  on  the  308th  anniver- 
sary of  Hooper's  martyrdom. 

The  Fleet  was  originally  the  prison  for  persons  com- 
mitted from  the  Court  of  Star-Chamber.  Bacon,  in 
early  life,  held  the  office  of  Registrar  of  this  infamous 
Court,  worth  about  ^"1600  per  annum.  In  his  Life  of 
King  Henry  VLL,  he  characterises  the  Court  as  "  one  of 
the  sagest  and  noblest  institutions  of  the  kingdom;" 


Persons  of  Note  Imprisoned  in  the  Fleet.         295 

"composed  of  good  elements,  for  it  consisteth  of  coun- 
sellors, peers,  prelates,  and  chief  judges." 

From  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  to  the  sixteenth  of  Charles 
I.  (1641),  the  Star-Chamber  was  in  full  activity.  Among 
the  political  victims  consigned  to  the  Fleet  were  Prynne 
and  Lilburne.  Prynne  was  committed  here  for  writing 
his  His  trio  was  tix,  taken  out  of  the  prison,  and,  after 
suffering  pillory,  branding,  mutilation  of  the  nose,  and 
loss  of  ears,  was  remanded  to  the  Fleet.  Lilburne, 
"Free-born  John,"  and  his  printer,  were  committed  to 
the  Fleet  for  libel  and  sedition :  the  former  was  smartly 
whipped  at  "  the  cart's  tail,"  from  the  prison  to  the 
pillory,  placed  between  Westminster  Hall  and  Star- 
Chamber,  and  subsequently  "doubly  ironed"  in  the 
prison  wards. 

After  the  abolition  of  the  Star-Chamber,  in  1641,  the 
Fleet  became  a  prison  for  contempt  of  the  Courts  of 
Chancery,  Common  Pleas,  and  Exchequer ;  and  it  con- 
tinued a  prison  for  debtors,  for  which  purpose  it  appears 
to  have  been  used  from  the  thirteenth  century  at  least, 
by  a  petition  from  John  Frauncey,  a  debtor  in  the  Fleet, 
A.D.  1290. 

Wycherley,  the  wit  and  dramatist,  lay  in  the  Fleet 
seven  years,  ruined  through  his  Countess'  settlement 
being  disputed,  was  thrown  into  prison,  and  is  said  to 
have  been  at  last  relieved  by  James  II.,  who  having 
gone  to  see  Wycherley's  Plain  Dealer  acted,  was  so 
delighted,  that  he  gave  orders  for  the  payment  of  the 
author's  debts,  and  settling  a  pension  of  £200  a-year  on 
him.     The  history  has  an  apocryphal  air. 

Sir  Richard  Baker,  the  Chronicler,  was  one  of  the 
most  unfortunate  debtors  confined  here  :  he  married  in 
1620,  and  soon  after  got  into  pecuniary  difficulties,  and 


2g6  Romance  of  London. 

was  thrown  into  the  Fleet  Prison,  where  he  spent  the 
remaining  years  of  his  life,  and  died  in  1644-45,  in  a 
state  of  extreme  poverty.  Mr  Cunningham,  from  the 
Rate-books  of  St  Clement's  Danes,  tells  us  that  Sir 
Richard  lived  in  Milford  Lane,  Strand,  from  1632  to 
1639  ;  possibly  Lady  Baker  resided  here.  Sir  Richard 
wrote  his  Chronicle,  published  in  1641,  and  other  works, 
as  a  means  of  subsistence  during  his  imprisonment. 
The  Chronicle  was  for  a  century  the  popular  book 
among  the  squires  and  ancient  country  gentlemen  of  the 
school  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  Sir  Richard's  resid- 
ence in  the  Fleet  was  not  very  compatible  with  refer- 
ence to  authorities  and  antiquarian  research  ;  though 
full  of  errors,  it  has  given  more  pleasure  and  diffused 
more  knowledge  than  historical  works  of  far  higher 
pretensions.  It  is  now  little  read  ;  but  we  may  remark, 
by  the  way,  that  some  historical  works  written,  and  most 
read  in  our  time,  are  by  no  means  the  most  accurate. 
Baker's  Chronicle  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  amusing 
"  prison  books,"  and  has  been  treated  with  much  un- 
merited ridicule.  Sir  Richard  was  buried  in  the  nearest 
church,  old  St  Bride's,  the  burial-place  of  the  Fleet 
Wardens.  Francis  Sandford,  author  of  the  Genealogical 
History,  died  in  the  Fleet  in  1693. 

To  Howel's  imprisonment  here  we  owe  his  very 
entertaining  Familiar  Letters,  several  of  which  are  dated 
from  here.  By  "  A  Letter  to  the  Earl  of  B.,  from  the 
Fleet,"  Nov.  20,  1643,  Howel  was  arrested  "one  morn- 
ing betimes,"  by  five  men,  armed  with  "  swords,  pistils, 
and  bils,"  and  some  days  after  committed  to  the  Fleet ; 
and  he  adds,  "As  far  as  I  see,  I  must  lie  at  dead 
anchor  in  this  Fleet  a  long  time,  unless  some  gentle  gale 
blow  thence  to  make  mc  launch  out."     Then  we  find 


Persons  of  Note  Imprisoned  in  the  Fleet.         297 

him  solacing  himself  with  the  reflection  that  the  English 
people  are  in  effect  but  prisoners,  as  all  other  islanders 
are.  Other  Letters,  by  Howel,  are  dated  from  the 
Fleet,  161 5-6-7  ;  some  are  dated  from  various  places, 
but  are  believed  to  have  been  written  in  the  Fleet :  still 
they  bear  internal  evidence  that  Howel  had  visited  these 
places. 

Howel's  Letters,  already  mentioned,  have  had  a  reflex 
in  our  time  in  Richard  Oastler's  Fleet  Papers,  "  a  weekly 
epistle  on  public  matters,"  inscribed  to  Thomas  Thorn- 
hill,  Esq.  of  Fixby  Hall,  Yorkshire,  whose  steward 
Oastler  had  been,  and  at  whose  suit  he  was  imprisoned 
here:  he  was  liberated  by  subscription,  February  12, 
1844,  and  has  left  an  interesting  account  of  his  imprison- 
ment. Of  Oastler,  a  colossal  bronze  group,  by  Philip, 
has  been  erected  at  Bradford,  in  memory  of  his  advocacy 
of  the  Ten-Hours  Factory  Bill. 

Among  the  distinguished  prisoners  here  was  the  im- 
petuous Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey,  who  was  first 
committed  here  for  sending  a  challenge  ;  he  was  allowed 
in  the  prison  the  use  of  two  servants  to  wait  upon  him, 
but  not  permitted  to  entertain  any  of  his  friends  at 
table.  He  made  several  applications  for  his  release  :  he 
pleads  to  the  Privy  Council  "  the  fury  of  reckless  youth," 
and  the  inoffensiveness  of  his  past  life  ;  and  begs  that  if 
he  may  not  be  liberated,  he  may,  at  least,  be  removed  to  a 
place  of  confinement  in  better  air  ;  he  was  then  removed 
to  Windsor,  and  in  four  days  released.  In  1543,  Surrey 
was  summoned  before  the  Privy  Council,  at  the  instance 
of  the  City  authorities,  for  having  eaten  flesh  in  Lent  ; 
and  for  having  with  young  Wyatt,  the  poet's  son,  and 
Pickering,  gone  about  the  streets  at  midnight  breaking 
windows  with  stone-bows.    To  the  first  charge  he  pleaded 


298  Romance  of  London. 

a  licence  ;  submitting  to  sentence  on  the  second,  for 
which  he  was  again  sent  to  the  Fleet.  During  his 
imprisonment  he  wrote  his  Satire  upon  the  Citizens, 
in  which  he  pretends  that  he  broke  their  windows  to 
awaken  them  to  a  sense  of  their  iniquities,  commenc- 


ing 


London  !  hast  thou  accused  me 
Of  breach  of  laws  ?  the  root  of  strife, 
Within  whose  breast  did  boil  to  see,  ' 
So  fervent  hot,  thy  dissolute  life  ; 
That  even  the  hate  of  sins  that  grow 
Within  thy  wicked  walls  so  rife, 
For  to  break  forth  did  convert  so, 
That  terror  could  it  not  repress. 

Surrey's  grave  irony  has  misled  the  editor  of  his  Poems, 
who  states  the  poet's  motive  to  have  been  a  religious 
one  ;  a  very  absurd  defence  of  a  vinous  frolic  of  window- 
breaking. 

We  pass  to  another  class  of  committals.  Keys  was 
sent  here  for  marrying  the  Lady  Mary  Grey,  the  sister 
of  Lady  Jane  Grey  ;  Dr  Donne,  for  marrying  Sir  George 
More's  daughter  without  her  father's  knowledge ;  Sir 
Robert  Killigrew,  for  speaking  to  Sir  Thomas  Overbury 
as  he  came  from  visiting  Sir  Walter  Raleigh ;  the 
Countess  of  Dorset,  for  pressing  into  the  Privy  Chamber, 
and  importuning  James  I.,  "contrary  to  command- 
ment ; "  and  Lucius  Carey,  Viscount  Falkland,  for 
sending  a  challenge. 

Nash  was  imprisoned  here  for  writing  the  satirical 
play  of  the  Isle  of  Dogs,  never  printed  :  he  died  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-five,  having  "  prodigally  conspired 
against  good  hours."  Pope  might  well  designate  the 
Fleet  "the  Haunt  of  the  Muses."  Robert  Lloyd, 
Churchill's  friend,  was  here  in  1764.     Parson  Ford,  who 


Persons  of  Note  Imprisoned  in  the  Fleet.         299 

figures  in  Hogarth's  Midnight  Conversation,  died  here 
in  1 73 1  ;  and  Parson  Keith,  of  May  Fair,  was  here  in 
1758.  Mrs  Cornelys,  who  gave,  in  Carlisle  House,  balls, 
concerts,  and  masquerades,  unparalleled  in  the  annals  of 
public  fashion,  by  her  improvidence  was  reduced  to 
become  "  a  vendor  of  asses'  milk,"  and,  sinking  still 
lower,  died  in  the  Fleet  in  1797. 

Another  eccentric  person  may  be  added  to  the  list — 
the  Chevalier  Desseasau,  a  native  of  Russia,  who  in  early 
life  bore  a  commission  in  the  service  of  that  country  ; 
but,  having  severely  wounded  a  brother  officer  in  a  duel, 
the  Chevalier  came  to  England,  and  here  passed  the 
remainder  of  his  days.  He  soon  became  acquainted 
with  Foote,  Murphy,  Goldsmith,  and  Johnson  :  he  was 
a  frequenter  of  Anderton's  Coffee-house  in  Fleet  Street, 
a  tavern  called  "  The  Barn  "  in  St  Martin's  Lane,  and 
several  coffee-houses  in  Covent  Garden.  He  at  length 
became  reduced  in  his  circumstances,  and  so  distressed 
as  to  be  confined  for  debt  in  the  Fleet  Prison ;  but  such 
was  the  confidence  placed  in  his  honour,  that  he  was 
allowed  to  go  out  of  the  prison  whenever  he  pleased. 
He  died  at  his  lodgings  in  Fleet  Market,  in  1775, 
aged  seventy,  and  was  interred  in  St  Bride's  Church- 
yard. 

Penn,  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania,  was  living  "within 
the  rules  of  the  Fleet"  in  1707  ;  "  Curll's  Corinna,"  Mrs 
Thomas,  was  also  a  ruler ;  and  Richard  Savage,  to  be 
secure  from  his  creditors,  was  directed  by  his  friends  to 
take  a  lodging  "  within  the  liberties  of  the  Fleet," 
and  here  his  friends  sent  him  every  Monday  a 
guinea.* 

*  Abridged  from  Walks  and  Talks  about  London  ;  interpolated. 


300  Romance  of  Loudon. 


The  Rising  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat. 

It  is  curious  to  find  this  event  of  three  centuries  since 
chronicled  with  as  much  minuteness  as  would  be  re- 
ported an  occurrence  of  yesterday,  in  a  morning  news- 
paper. Wyat  and  his  followers  lay  at  Deptford  until 
Saturday,  the  5th  of  February  1554,  when  "this  daie 
before  noone  all  horsemen  were  by  a  drom  commanded 
to  be  at  sainct  James  felde,  and  the  footemen  com- 
manded to  be  in  Fynsbury  felde  to  muster.  This  day, 
about  iij.  of  the  clocke,  sir  Thomas  Wyat  and  the 
Kentyshemen  marched  forwarde  from  Debtford  to- 
wardes  London  with  v.  auncientes,  being  by  estimation 
about  ij.  thousand  men  ;  which  their  comyng,  so  soone 
as  it  was  perceyved,  ther  was  shot  off  out  of  the  White 
tower  a  vi.  or  viij.  shott ;  but  myssed  them,  somtymes 
shoting  over,  and  somtymes  shoting  short.  After  the 
knowledge  thereof  once  had  in  London,  forthwith  the 
draybridge  was  cutt  downe  and  the  bridge  gates  shut." 
The  Londoners  were  preparing.  "  The  mayre  and  the 
sheryves  harnessyd  theymselves,  and  commanded  eche 
man  to  shutt  in  their  shoppes  and  wyndowes,  and  being 
redy  in  harnes  to  stande  every  one  at  his  dore,  what 
chance  soever  might  happen."  The  taking  of  wares, 
the  running  up  and  down,  the  weeping  women,  children 
and  maids  running  into  houses,  and  shutting  the  doors 
for  fear,  were  great.  "  So  terryble  and  fearfull  at  the 
fyrst  was  Wyat  and  his  armyes  comying  to  the  most 
part  of  the  cytezens,"  who,  the  chronicler  adds,  were  not 
accustomed  to  "  suche  incursions  to  their  cyty."  Wyat 
entered  into  Kent  Street,  and  by  St  George's  Church 
into  Southwark  ;  himself  and  part  of  his  company  came 


The  Rising  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.  301 

down  Barmesy  (Bermondsey)  Street.  The  people  of 
Southwark  did  not  oppose  the  new  comers,  but  enter- 
tained them.  Wyat  laid  two  pieces  of  ordnance  at  the 
Bridge  foot,  another  at  St  George's,  another  at  Ber- 
mondsey Street,  &c.  As  a  price  had  been  set  upon  his 
head,  he  had  the  name  of  Thomas  Wyat  fairly  written, 
and  set  on  his  cap.  He  paid  all  his  men,  and  saw  that 
they  paid  the  inhabitants  ;  and  his  motive  in  quitting 
Southwark  was  to  save  the  place ;  for  the  Lieutenant  of 
the  Tower  had  directed  all  his  great  ordnance  against 
Southwark  and  the  church  towers  of  St  Tooley's  and  St 
Marie  Overies. 

Wyat  retired  to  Kingston  ;  and  from  thence  pro- 
ceeded towards  the  western  part  of  London,  through 
Brentford.  "  The  quenes  scout,  apon  his  retourne  to 
the  court,  declared  their  coming  to  Brainforde,  which 
subden  newes  was  so  fearefull  that  therwith  the  quene 
and  all  the  court  was  wonderfully  affryghted.  Dromes 
went  thoroughe  London  at  iiij.  of  the  clocke,  warninge 
all  soldears  to  arme  themselves  and  to  repaire  to 
Charinge  crosse.  The  quene  was  once  determyned 
to  come  to  the  Tower  furthwith,  but  shortlie  after  she 
sende  worde  she  would  tarry  ther  to  se  the  uttermost. 
Mayny  thought  she  wolde  have  ben  in  the  felde  in 
person.  Here  was  no  small  a-dowe  in  London,  and 
likewise  the  Tower  made  great  preparation  of  defence. 
By  x.  of  the  clocke,  or  somewhat  more,  the  erle  of 
Penbroke  had  set  his  troopp  of  horsemen  on  the  hille 
in  the  higheway  above  the  new  brige  over  against  say  net 
James  ;  his  footemen  was  sett  in  ij.  battailles  somewhat 
lower,  and  ncrer  Charinge  crosse.  At  the  lane  turning 
downe  by  the  brike  wall  from  Islington-warde  he  had 
sett  also  certayn  other  horsemen,  and  he  had  planted 


302  Romance  of  L ondon. 

his  ordenance  apon  the  hill  side.  In  the  meane  season 
Wyat  and  his  company  planted  his  ordenance  apon  the 
hill  beyonde  sainct  James,  almost  over  agaynst  the  park 
corner ;  and  himself,  after  a  few  words  spoken  to  his 
soldears,  came  downe  the  olde  lane  on  foote,  hard  by 
the  courte  gate  at  saincte  James's,  with  iiij.  or  v.  auncy- 
entes ;  his  men  marching  in  goode  array.  Cutbart 
Vaughan,  and  about  ij.  auncyentes,  turned  downe  to- 
wards Westminster.  The  erle  of  Pembroke's  horsemen 
hoveryd  all  this  while  without  moving,  untyll  all  was 
passed  by,  saving  the  tayle,  upon  which  they  did  sett 
and  cut  of.  The  other  marched  forwarde,  and  never 
stayed  or  retourned  to  the  ayde  of  their  tayle.  ...  At 
Charinge  crosse  ther  stoode  the  lord  chamberlayne,  with 
the  garde  and  a  nomber  of  other,  almost  a  thousande 
persons,  the  whiche,  upon  Wyat's  coming,  shott  at  his 
company,  and  at  last  fiedd  to  the  court  gates,  which 
certayn  pursued,  and  forced  them  with  shott  to  shyt  the 
court  gates  against  them.  In  this  repulse  the  said  lord 
chamberlayn  and  others  were  so  amazed  that  men 
cryed  Treason  !  treason  !  in  the  court,  and  had  thought 
that  the  erle  of  Pembroke,  who  was  assayling  the  tayle 
of  his  enemys,  had  gon  to  Wyat,  taking  his  part  agaynst 
the  quene,  .  .  .  The  said  Wyat,  with  his  men,  marched 
still  forwarde,  all  along  to  Temple  barre,  also  thoroghe 
Fleete  street,  along  tyll  he  cam  to  Ludgate,  his  men 
going  not  in  eny  goode  order  or  array.  .  .  .  Thus  Wyat 
cam  even  to  Ludgate,  and  knockyd  calling  to  come  in, 
saying,  there  was  Wyat,  whom  the  quene  had  graunted 
their  requestes  ;  but  the  lorde  William  Howard  standing 
at  the  gate,  saide,  '  Avaunt,  traytour  !  thou  shalt  not 
come  in  here,'  And  then  Wyat  awhill  stayed,  and,  as 
some  say,  rested  him  apon  a  seate  [at]  the  Bejlsavage 


The  Story  of  George  Barnwell.  303 

gate  ;  at  last,  seing  he  coulde  not  come  in,  and  belike 
being  deceaved  of  the  ayde  which  he  hoped  out  of  the 
cetye,  retourned  back  agayne  in  arraye  towards  Charinge 
crosse,  and  was  never  stopped  tyll  he  cam  to  Temple 
barre,  wher  certayn  horsemen  which  cam  from  the  felde 
met  them  in  the  face  ;  and  then  begann  the  fight  agayne 
to  wax  hote." 

The  fate  of  Wyat  and  his  followers  need  not  be  de- 
tailed ;  the  latter  were  taken,  and  thrust  into  prisons, 
"  the  poorest  sort "  being,  in  the  words  of  the  chronicle, 
"  en  a  hepp  in  churches." 

The  Story  of  George  Barnwell. 

The  discrepancies  in  this  old  London  story  are  so 
numerous  and  conflicting  as  almost  to  defy  adjustment. 
"The  unhappy  youth,"  says  Dr  Rimbault,  "is  said  to 
have  figured  in  the  criminal  annals  of  the  time  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  ;  but  I  have  never  met  with  any  authenticated 
notice  of  his  trial  and  condemnation,"  The  story,  we 
need  scarcely  observe,  describes  the  career  of  a  London 
apprentice  hurried  on  to  ruin  and  murder  by  an  infamous 
woman,  who  at  last  delivers  him  up  to  justice  and  an 
ignominious  death.  These  circumstances  were  drama- 
tised by  George  Lillo,  in  hfs  well-known  tragedy,  The 
London  Merchant ;  or,  The  History  of  George  Barnwell, 
first  acted  in  1731  ;  and  stated  to  be  founded  upon  the 
old  ballad  of  George  Barnwell,  which,  Bishop  Percy  says, 
"was  printed,  at  least,  as  early  as  the  seventeenth 
century."  In  that  production,  Barnwell's  uncle  (who  is 
murdered)  is  described  as  a  wealthy  grazier  dwelling  in 
Ludlow;  in  a  wood  near  which  place  the  ballad  also 
describes  the  murder  to  have  been  committed.     This 


304  Romance  of  London. 

"  Tragical  Narrative,"  says  Bishop  Percy,  "  seems  to 
relate  to  a  real  fact ;  but  when  it  happened  I  have  not 
been  able  to  discover."  The  Ludlow  Guide  Book 
"  notices  the  circumstance  as  traditional  there,  and  the 
very  barn  and  homestead,  a  short  distance  on  the  left 
before  entering  Ludlow  from  the  Hereford  road,  we  are 
told  by  Dr  Rimbault,  are  still  pointed  out  as  the  ancient 
residence  of  the  victim." 

Lillo's  tragedy,  with  poetical  licence,  makes  the  scene 
of  the  uncle's  murder  to  be  within  a  short  distance  of 
London,  and  tradition  places  it  in  the  grounds  formerly 
belonging  to  Dr  Lettsom,  and  now  those  of  the  Gram- 
mar School  at  Camberwell,  in  Surrey,  Maurice,  the 
historian  of  Hindostan,  admits  this  recognition  into  his 
poem  of  Camberwell  Grove,  in  the  following  apos- 
trophe : — 

Ye  towering  elms,  on  whose  majestic  brows 

A  hundred  rolling  years  have  shed  their  snows. 

Admit  me  to  your  dark  sequester'd  reign, 

To  roam  with  contemplation's  studious  train  ! 

Your  .haunts  I  seek,  nor  glow  with  other  fires 

Than  those  which  Friendship's  ardent  warmth  inspires ; 

No  savage  murderer  with  a  gleaming  blade — 

No  Barnwell  to  pollute  your  sacred  shade ! 

Still,  the  old  ballad  lays  the  scene  of  Barnwell's  dissi- 
pation in  the  metropolis ;  in  Shoreditch  lived  Mrs  Mill- 
wood, who  led  him  astray  : — 

George  Barnwell,  then,  quoth  she, 

Do  thou  to  Shoreditch  come, 
And  ask  for  Mrs  Millwood's  house, 

Next  door  unto  the  Gun. 

Now,  Shoreditch  was  formerly  notorious  for  the  easy 
character  of  its  women ;  and  to  die  in  Shoreditch  was 
not  a  mere   metaphorical   term   for  dying  in  a  sewer. 


The  Story  of  George  Barnwell,  305 

(Cunningham!)  Curiously  enough,  the  common  notion 
of  Shoreditch  being  named  after  Jane  Shore,  the  mis- 
tress of  Edward  IV.,  is  a  vulgar  error  perpetrated  by  a 
ballad  in  Percy's  Rcliqucs;  its  notoriously  bad  character, 
in  each  case,  may  have  led  to  its  being  chosen  for  the 
poetical  locality.  Lillo,  by  transferring  the  scene  from 
a  wood  near  Ludlow  to  Camberwell  Grove,  doubtless 
added  to  the  popularity  of  the  drama,  by  the  celebrity 
of  the  latter  site  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  roman- 
tic localities  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  metropolis. 

Lillo,  in  writing  his  three  plays,  George  Barnwell, 
A  rden  of  Feversham,  and  Fatal  Curiosity,  evidently  had 
but  one  purpose  in  view,  to  exhibit  the  progress  from 
smaller  to  greater  crimes ;  to  which  point  he  would,  of 
course,  pay  more  attention  than  to  accuracy  of  locality. 
Thus,  the  impure  passion  of  Barnwell,  the  ill-suppressed 
attachment  of  Arden's  wife  for  the  lover  of  her  youth, 
and  the  impatience  under  poverty  of  the  Wilmots  (in 
Fatal  Curiosity),  are  the  three  beginnings  of  vice,  all  of 
which  terminate  in  murder.  Not  only  is  the  purpose  of 
these  plays  the  same,  but  the  same  measures  are  adopted 
in  all  for  its  attainment.  In  each  there  is  a  tempter  and 
a  tempted  ;  the  first  determined  in  vice,  the  latter  rather 
weak  than  intrinsically  vicious ;  thus  Barnwell  is  led  on 
by  Millwood,  Arden's  wife  by  her  paramour,  Mosly,  and 
Wilmot  by  his  wife,  Agnes.  George  Barnwell  is  the 
least  meritorious  in  execution  :  here  "  inflation  knows 
no  bounds ;  nature  is  sunk  altogether,  and  the  virtuous 
characters  are  not  human  beings,  but  speakers  of  moral 
essays,  and  those  in  the  worst  style.  The  prose  of 
Barnwell  is  remarkable ;  in  many  places  line  after  line 
will  read  as  blank  verse,  which  might  lead  to  a  surmise 

that  it  was  originally  written  in  verse,  and  chopped  up 
vol.  1.  u 


306  Romance  of  London. 

into  prose ;  unless,  indeed,  the  same  metrical  style  may 
be  that  which  naturally  follows  from  inflated  declama- 
tion." Nevertheless,  it  was  said  at  the  time  of  the  pro- 
duction of  Barnwell,  that  it  drew  more  tears  than  the 
rant  of  Alexander  the  Great.  It  attracted  attention  at 
once;  for  in  the  Daily  Post,  Monday,  July  5,  1731  (the 
year  of  its  production),  we  find :  "  Last  Friday  a 
messenger  came  from  Hampton  Court  to  the  play- 
house, by  the  Queen's  command,  for  the  manuscript  of 
George  Barnwell,  for  Her  Majesty's  perusal,  which  Mr 
Wilks  carried  to  Hampton  Court  early  on  Saturday 
morning  ;  and  we  hear  it  is  to  be  performed  shortly  at 
the  theatre  in  Hampton  Court,  for  the  entertainment  of 
the  royal  family,"  &c. 

To  return  to  the  discrepancies  of  locality.  Lillo's 
drama  shows  us  the  culprit,  in  companionship  with  his 
heartless  seducer,  led  from  a  London  prison  to  the 
scaffold;  and  Dr  Rimbault,  writing  in  1858,  tells  us 
that,  some  few  years  since,  an  old  parochial  document 
was  said  to  have  come  to  light,  showing  that  George 
Barnwell  had  been  the  last  criminal  hanged  at  St 
Martin' s-in-the-Fields,  before  the  Middlesex  executions 
were,  more  generally  than  before,  ordered  at  Tyburn ; 
yet  the  ballad,  of  much  older  date  than  the  play,  says 
that  Barnwell  was  not  gibbeted  here,  but  sent  "  beyond 
seas,"  where  he  subsequently  suffered  capital  punish- 
ment for  some  fresh  crime. 

The  popularity  of  the  drama  on  the  stage  doubtless 
led  to  its  being  wrought  into  a  story  book,  as  is  fre- 
quently done  in  the  present  day.  Of  Barnwell  there 
have  been  several  versions,  including  pamphlets.  In 
1 8 17  was  published  a  narrative,  with  great  pretension 
to  authority,  it  being  stated  in  the  title-page  as  "  by  a 


The  Story  of  George  Barnwell  307 

Descendant  of  the  Barnwell  family."  It  is  entitled, 
"Memoirs  of  George  Barnwell;  the  unhappy  subject 
of  Lillo's  celebrated  Tragedy ;  derived  from  the  most 
authentic  sources,"  &c.  ;  the  preface  is  dated  from  "  St 
Gad's,  Dec.  21,  1809."  This  book,  extending  to  some 
150  pages,  we  suspect  to  be  of  little  or  no  authority;  it 
is  written  in  the  worst  possible  style,  and  its  inflation 
transcends  that  of  the  drama  itself.  The  family  of  the 
Barnwells  are  stated  to  have  flourished  in  the  vale  of 
Evesham,  the  uncle  to  have  lived  at  Camberwell,  in 
Surrey,  and  the  apprentice's  master  to  have  been  "Mr 
Strickland,  a  very  considerable  woollen  draper  in  Cheap- 
side."  Next  we  have  the  Thorowgood  and  Truman, 
and  Maria,  from  the  drama ;  Sarah  Millwood  is  "  the 
daughter  of  a  respectable  merchant  in  Bristol ; "  her 
husband  loses  his  life  in  a  midnight  broil ;  the  widow 
sees  young  Barnwell  coming  out  of  a  banking-house  in 
Lombard  Street,  she  allures  him  to  "  her  residence  in 
Cannon  Street,"  where,  the  image  of  the  chaste  Maria 
flitting  from  George's  view,  the  wicked  widow  triumphs; 
she  removes  to  "a  lodging  in  Moorfields ;"  he  plunders 
his  masters  cash-drawer  of  a  hundred  pound  note, 
coaxes  his  uncle  out  of  money  :  then  we  have  a  borrow- 
ing from  the  ballad — George  is  cautioned  by  an  anony- 
mous letter,  and  is  referred  to  "Mrs  Millwood,  near  the 
Gun,  in  Shoreditcn:"  he  perpetrates  the  murder  in 
Camberwell  Grove,  and  his  uncle's  body  is  "  found  by  a 
farmer's  servant,  and  carried,  with  the  assistance  of  some 
passengers,  to  an  old  public-house  hard  by,  which  was 
well  known  by  the  sign  of  the  Tiger  and  the  Tabby." 
Meanwhile,  Barnwell's  disappearance  from  his  place  of 
business  is  advertised  by  his  master ;  the  murderer  has 
fled  into  Lincolnshire;  he  is  betrayed  to  his  master  by 


308  Romance  of  London. 

Millwood,  confesses  his  guilt,  and  is  "committed  to  the 
Marshalsea  Prison  in  Southwark,  to  take  his  trial  at  the 
next  Surrey  Assizes."  The  date  of  the  trial  is  here 
given,  "  1 8th  of  October  1706,  before  the  Lord  Chief 
Baron  Bury  and  Mr  Justice  Powell."  Millwood,  in  her 
evidence,  deposed  that  she  "  lived  in  Shoreditch,  next 
door  to  the  Gun,"  a  suspicious  coincidence  with  the 
words  in  the  ballad  of  the  previous  century.  Barnwell 
was  found  guilty,  and  executed,  according  to  the  above 
volume,  on  Kennington  Common.  To  the  account  of 
the  trial  it  is  added  that  Lillo,  the  dramatist,  was  con- 
temporary with  Barnwell,  which  seems  to  gainsay  its 
true  origin  of  the  story  from  the  old  ballad.  Barnwell's 
tragical  history  has  also  been  made  the  basis  of  a  novel, 
in  three  volumes,  by  Mr  Thomas  Skinner  Surr,  author 
of  the  Winter  in  London,  in  which,  however,  there  is 
little  of  the  narrative  of  assumed  facts,  or  regard  to  the 
colour  of  the  period  ;  it  is  almost  entirely  a  work  of 
fiction. 

Not  the  least  remarkable  incident  of  the  drama  of 
George  Barnwell  is  the  several  anecdotes  relative  to  the 
effect  produced  by  its  performance  on  young  men  who 
have  followed  vicious  courses,  and  have  been  reclaimed 
by  this  tragedy.  With  this  view,  the  play  was  usually 
performed  at  the  theatres,  on  the  night  after  Christmas- 
day,  and  on  Easter  Monday ;  but  this  practice  has  been 
for  some  years  discontinued,  as  it  failed  to  prove  attrac- 
tive. Among  the  instances  of  its  former  effect  is  the 
following,  related  by  Ross,  the  comedian  : — 

"In  the  year  1752,  during  the  Christmas  holidays,  I 
played  George  Barnwell,  and  the  late  Mrs  Pritchard 
played  Millwood.  Doctor  Barrowby,  physician  to  St 
Bartholomew's  Hospital,  told  me  he  was  once  sent  for 


The  Story  of  George  Barnwell.  309 

by  a  young  gentleman  in  Great  St  Helen's,  apprentice 
to  a  very  capital  merchant.  He  found  him  very  ill  with 
a  slow  fever,  a  heavy  hammer  pulse  that  no  medicine 
could  touch.  The  nurse  told  him  he  sighed  at  times  so 
very  heavily  that  she  was  sure  something  lay  heavily  on 
his  mind.  The  Doctor  sent  every  one  out  of  the  room, 
and  told  his  patient  he  was  sure  that  something  op- 
pressed his  mind,  and  lay  so  heavy  on  his  spirits  that 
it  would  be  in  vain  to  order  him  medicine  unless  he 
would  open  his  mind  freely.  After  much  solicitation  on 
the  part  of  the  Doctor,  the  youth  confessed  there  was 
something  lay  heavy  at  his  heart,  but  that  he  would 
sooner  die  than  divulge  it,  as  it  must-  be  his  ruin  if  it 
was  known.  The  Doctor  assured  him,  if  he  would  make 
him  his  confidant,  he  would,  by  every  means  in  his 
power,  serve  him,  and  that  the  secret,  if  he  desired  it, 
should  remain  so  to  all  the  world  but  to  those  who 
might  be  necessary  to  relieve  him. 

"After  much  conversation,  he  told  the  Doctor  he  was 
the  second  son  to  a  gentleman  of  good  fortune  in  Hert- 
fordshire, that  he  had  made  an  improper  acquaintance 
with  a  mistress  of  a  captain  of  an  Indiaman  then  abroad, 
that  he  was  within  a  year  of  being  out  of  his  time,  and 
had  been  entrusted  with  cash,  drafts,  and  notes,  which 
he  had  made  free  with,  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred 
pounds ;  that  going  two  or  three  nights  before  to  Drury 
Lane,  to  see  Ross  and  Mrs  Pritchard  in  their  characters 
of  George  Barnwell  and  Millwood,  he  was  so  forcibly 
struck  that  he  had  not  enjoyed  a  moment's  peace  since, 
and  wished  to  die  to  avoid  the  shame  he  saw  hanging 
over  him.  The  Doctor  asked  him  where  his  father  was  ? 
lie  replied  he  expected  him  there  every  minute,  as  he 
was  sent  for  by  his  master  on  his  being  taken  so  very 


3 1  o  Romance  of  London. 

ill.  The  Doctor  desired  the  young  gentleman  to  make 
himself  perfectly  easy,  as  he  would  undertake  his  father 
should  make  all  right ;  and  to  get  his  patient  in  a  pro- 
mising way,  assured  him,  if  his  father  made  the  least 
hesitation,  he  should  have  the  money  of  him.  The 
father  soon  arrived  :  the  Doctor  took  him  into  another 
room,  and,  after  explaining  the  whole  cause  of  his  son's 
illness,  begged  him  to  save  the  honour  of  his  family  and 
the  life  of  his  son.  The  father,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
gave  him  a  thousand  thanks,  said  he  would  start  to  his 
banker  and  bring  the  money.  While  the  father  was 
gone,  Dr  Barrowby  went  to  his  patient,  and  told  him 
everything  would  be  settled  in  a  few  minutes  to  his  ease 
and  satisfaction  ;  that  his  father  was  gone  to  his  banker 
for  the  money,  and  would  soon  return  with  peace  and 
forgiveness,  and  never  mention  or  even  think  of  it  more. 
"  What  is  very  extraordinary,  the  Doctor  told  me, 
that  in  a  few  minutes  after  he  communicated  this  news 
to  his  patient,  upon  feeling  his  pulse,  without  the  help 
of  any  medicine,  he  was  quite  another  creature.  The 
father  returned  with  notes  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred 
pounds,  which  he  put  into  the  son's  hands, — they  wept, 
kissed,  embraced  ;  the  son  soon  recovered,  and  lived  to 
be  a  very  eminent  merchant.  Doctor  Barrowby  never 
told  me  the  name,  but  the  story  he  mentioned  often  in 
the  green-room  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre  ;  and  after  tell- 
ing it  one  night,  when  I  was  standing  by,  he  said  to  me  : 
— '  You  have  done  some  good  in  your  profession,  more, 
perhaps,  than  many  a  clergyman  who  preached  last 
Sunday ' — for  the  patient  told  the  Doctor  the  play  raised 
such  horror  and  contrition  in  his  soul  that  he  would,  if 
it  would  please  God  to  raise  a  friend  to  extricate  him 
out  of  that  distress,  dedicate  the  rest  of  his  life  to  reli- 


The  Story  of  George  Ban  live  11.  3 1 1 

gion  and  virtue.  Though  I  never  knew  his  name,  or 
saw  him  to  my  knowledge,  I  had,  for  nine  or  ten  years, 
at  my  benefit  a  note  sealed  up,  with  ten  guineas,  and 
these  words  : — '  A  tribute  of  gratitude  from  one  who  was 
highly  obliged  and  saved  from  ruin  by  seeing  Mr  Ross's 
performance  of  Barnwell.' 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  truly, 

"  David  Ross." 

The  tragic  story  has  not  escaped  whipping  by  the 
satirist,  as  well  as  by  the  pantomimist.  James  Smith, 
in  one  of  the  "  Rejected  Addresses,"  thus  happily  turns 
the  story  into  racy  burlesque, — as  "  George  Barnwell 
Travestie  : " — 

George  Barnwell  stood  at  the  shop-door, 
A  customer  hoping  to  find,  sir  ; 
His  apron  was  hanging  before, 
But  the  tail  of  his  coat  was  behind,  sir. 
A  lady  so  painted  and  smart, 
Cried,  Sir,  I  've  exhausted  my  stock  o'  late  ; 
I  've  got  nothing  left  but  a  groat — 
Could  you  give  me  four  penn'orth  of  chocolate? 
Rum  ti,  &c. 

Her  face  was  rouged  up  to  the  eyes, 
Which  made  her  look  prouder  and  prouder  ; 
His  hair  stood  on  end  with  surprise, 
And  hers  with  pomatum  and  powder. 
The  business  was  soon  understood  ; 
The  lady,  who  wish'd  to  be  more  rich, 
Cried,  Sweet  sir,  my  name  is  Millwood, 
And  I  lodge  at  the  Gunner's  in  Shoreditch. 
Rum  ti,  &c. 

Now  nightly  he  stole  out,  good  lack! 
And  into  her  lodging  would  pop,  sir  ; 
And  often  forgot  to  come  back, 
Leaving  master  to  shut  up  the  shop,  sir. 


3 1 2  Romance  of  London. 

Her  beauty  his  wits  did  bereave — 
Determined  to  be  quite  the  crack,  O, 
He  lounged  at  the  Adam  and  Eve, 
And  call'd  for  his  gin  and  tobacco. 
Rum  ti,  &c. 

And  now — for  the  truth  must  be  told, 

Though  none  of  a  'prentice  should  speak  ill  — 

He  stole  from  the  till  all  the  gold, 

And  ate  the  lump-sugar  and  treacle. 

In  vain  did  his  master  exclaim, 

Dear  George  !  don't  engage  with  that  dragon  ; 

She  '11  lead  you  to  sorrow  and  shame, 

And  leave  you  the  devil  a  rag  on. 

Your  rum  ti,  &c. 

George  is  kicked  out  of  doors,  soon  spends  his  last 
guinea,  when  Millwood  gets  angry  and  remonstrates  : — 

If  you  mean  to  come  here  any  more, 
Pray  come  with  more  cash  in  your  pocket. 

She  then  suggests  making  "  Nunky  surrender  his  dibs/' 
and  he  is  equipped  for  the  crime  : — 

A  pistol  he  got  from  his  love — 
'Twas  loaded  with  powder  and  bullet ; 
He  trudged  off  to  Camberwell  Grove, 
But  wanted  the  courage  to  pull  it. 
There  's  Nunky  as  fat  as  a  hog, 
While  I  am  as  lean  as  a  lizard  ; 
Here  's  at  you,  you  stingy  old  dog  ! — 
And  he  whips  a  long  knife  in  his  gizzard. 
Rum  ti,  &c. 

All  you  who  attend  to  my  song, 

A  terrible  end  of  the  farce  shall  see, 

If  you  join  the  inquisitive  throng 

That  follow'd  poor  George  to  the  Marshalsea. 


L  ady  Henrietta  Berkeley.  3 1 3 

If  Millwood  were  here,  dash  my  wigs, 
Quoth  he,  I  would  pummel  and  lam  her  well ; 
Had  I  stuck  to  my  prunes  and  my  figs, 
I  ne'er  had  stuck  Nunky  at  Camberwell. 
Rum  ti,  &c. 

Their  bodies  were  never  cut  down  ; 
For  granny  relates  with  amazement, 
A  witch  bore  'm  over  the  town, 
And  hung  them  on  Thorowgood's  casement. 
The  neighbours,  I  've  heard  the  folks  say, 
The  miracle  noisily  brag  on  ; 
And  the  shop  is,  to  this  very  day, 
The  sign  of  the  George  and  the  Dragon. 
Rum  ti,  &c. 

Lady  Henrietta  Berkeley. 

THIS  unfortunate  lady,  whose  beauty  and  attractions 
proved  her  ruin,  was  fifth  daughter  of  George,  first 
Earl  of  Berkeley.  Mary,  her  eldest  sister,  married,  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  Ford,  Lord  Grey,  of  Werke — 
a  nobleman  of  infamous  memory,  and  to  whose  artifices 
the  Lady  Henrietta  fell  a  victim.  It  seems  that  he  had 
encouraged  a  passion  for  her  when  she  was  a  girl,  and 
basely  taking  advantage  of  the  opportunities  which  his 
alliance  with  her  family  afforded,  succeeded  in  effecting 
her  ruin  when  she  was  little  more  than  seventeen.  After 
she  had  acknowledged  an  affection  for  him,  the  intrigue 
was  continued  about  a  year  without  discovery,  but  with 
great  risk;  and, on  one  occasion,  as  he  himself  confessed, 
he  was  two  days  locked  in  her  closet  without  food, 
except  a  little  sweetmeats.  At  length  the  suspicions  of 
the  Countess  of  Berkeley  being  excited  by  some  trivial 
accident,  she  commanded  her  third  daughter,  the  Lady 
Arabella,  to  search  her  sister's  room  ;  on  which  the  latter 
delivered  up  a  letter  she  had  just  been  writing  to  Lord 


3 1 4  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

Grey,  to  this  effect : — "  My  sister  Bell  did  not  suspect 
our  being  together  last  night,  for  she  did  not  hear  the 
noise.  Pray  come  again  on  Sunday  or  Monday;  if  the 
last,  I  shall  be  very  impatient." 

This  disclosure  took  place  at  Berkeley  House,  in 
London ;  and  every  precaution  was  taken  to  prevent 
correspondence  or  any  clandestine  meeting  between 
the  parties ;  notwithstanding  which,  Lady  Henrietta 
contrived  to  elope  from  Durdanes,  a  seat  of  the  Berke- 
leys  near  Epsom,  and  to  join  Lord  Grey  in  London, 
with  whom  she  resided,  for  a  short  time,  in  a  lodging- 
house  at  Charing  Cross. 

The  Earl  of  Berkeley  then  indicted  him,  and  several 
other  persons,  for  conspiring  to  ruin  his  daughter,  by 
seducing  her  from  her  father's  house.  The  trial  came 
on  in  November  1682,  at  Westminster  Hall ;  and,  after 
a  most  affecting  scene,  the  Lady  Henrietta  being  her- 
self present,  and  making  oath  that  she  had  left  home 
of  her  own  accord,  the  jury  were  preparing  to  with- 
draw to  consider  their  verdict,  when  a  new  tone  was 
given  to  the  proceedings  by  the  lady  declaring,  in  oppo- 
sition to  her  father's  claim  of  her  person,  that  "she  would 
not  go  with  him,  that  she  was  married,  and  under  no 
restraint,  and  that  her  husband  was  then  in  court."  A 
Mr  Turner,  son  of  Sir  William  Turner,  then  stepped 
forward  and  declared  himself  married  to  the  lady. 
Sergeant  Jeffreys  then  endeavoured  to  prove  that 
Turner  had  been  married  before  to  another  person, 
then  alive,  and  who  had  children  by  him ;  but  in  this 
he  failed.  Turner  then  asserted  there  were  witnesses 
ready  to  prove  his  marriage  with  Lady  Henrietta,  but 
the  Earl  of  Berkeley  disputed  the  Court  having  the 
cognisance  of  marriages,  and  desired  that  his  daughter 


Lady  Henrietta  Berkeley.  3 1 5 

might  be  delivered  up  to  him.  The  Lord  Chief  Justice 
saw  no  reason  but  his  lordship  might  take  his  daughter; 
but  Justice  Dolben  maintained  they  could  not  dispose  of 
any  other  man's  wife,  and  they  said  they  were  married. 
The  Lord  Chief  Justice  then  declared  the  lady  free  for 
her  father  to  take  her ;  and  that  if  Mr  Turner  thought 
he  had  a  right  to  the  lady,  he  might  take  his  course. 
The  lady  then  declared  she  would  go  with  her  husband, 
to  which  the  Earl  replied,  "  Hussey,  you  shall  go  with 
me."  It  was  then  asked  if  Lord  Grey  might  be  dis- 
charged of  his  imprisonment.  Sergeant  Jeffreys  ob- 
jected ;  to  which  the  Chief  Justice  replied  : — "  How  can 
we  do  that,  brother  ?  The  commitment  upon  the  writ, 
De Homine Replegiando,  is  but  till  the  body  be  produced; 
there  she  is,  and  says  she  is  under  no  restraint."  It  was 
then  argued  that  the  lady  was  properly  the  plaintiff,  that 
Lord  Grey  could  not  be  detained  in  custody,  but  that 
he  should  give  security  to  answer  the  suit.  Accordingly 
he  was  bailed  out.     Then  followed  : — 

Earl  of  Berkeley. — My  Lord,  I  desire  I  may  have  my 
daughter  again.  L.  C.  J. — My  Lord,  we  do  not  hinder 
you  ;  you  may  take  her.  Lady  Henrietta. — I  will  go 
with  my  husband.  Earl  of  Berkeley. — Then,  all  that  are 
my  friends,  seize  her,  I  charge  you.  Z.  C.  J. — Nay,  let 
us  have  no  breaking  of  the  peace  in  the  Court. 

Despite,  however,  of  this  warning  of  the  Chief  Justice, 
Lord  Berkeley  again  claiming  his  daughter,  and  attempt- 
ing to  seize  her  by  force  in  the  Hall,  a  great  scuffle 
ensued,  and  swords  were  drawn  on  both  sides.  At  this 
critical  moment  the  Court  broke  up,  and  the  Judge, 
passing  by,  ordered  his  tipstaff  to  take  Lady  Henrietta 
into  custody  and  convey  her  to  the  King's  Bench,  whither 
Mr  Turner  accompanied  her.     On  the  last  day  of  term 


3 1 6  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

she  was  released  by  order  of  the  Court,  and  the  business 
being,  in  some  way,  arranged  among  the  parties  during 
the  vacation,  the  lawsuit  was  not  persevered  in. 

Lady  Henrietta  herself  is  stated  to  have  died,  un- 
married, in  the  year  1710  ;  consequently,  the  claim  of 
Turner  must  have  been  a  mere  collusion  to  save  Lord 
Grey. — A  bridged,  from  Sir  Bernard  Burke  s  A  necdotes  of 
the  A  ristocracy,  vol.  ii. 

A ssassinatioji  of  Mr  Thynne  in  Pall  Mall. 

As  the  visitor  to  Westminster  Abbey  passes  through 
the  south  aisle  of  the  choir,  he  can  scarcely  fail  to  notice 
sculptured  upon  one  of  the  most  prominent  monuments 
a  frightful  scene  of  assassination,  which  was  perpetrated 
in  one  of  the  most  public  streets  of  the  metropolis,  late 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II. 

This  terrible  and  mysterious  transaction  still  remains 
among  the  darkest  of  the  gloomy  doings  during  the 
period  of  the  Restoration,  and  the  violence  of  faction 
consequent  upon  it.  The  murder  of  Thynne  originated 
partly  in  a  love  affair,  and  partly,  in  all  probability,  from 
a  secret  political  motive.  The  names  and  the  interests 
of  some  of  the  proudest  and  most  powerful  families  in 
the  realm  were  involved  in  this  nefarious  homicide  ;  and 
it  is  quite  clear  that  while  the  actual  assassins  paid  the 
forfeit  of  their  crime,  the  instigator,  or  instigators,  for 
there  may  have  been  more  than  one,  were  allowed  to 
escape. 

The  interesting  but  innocent  subject  of  the  whole 
matter — the  mainspring  of  the  deed — was  a  daughter  of 
the  noble  house  of  Percy,  Lady  Elizabeth,  who,  before 
she  had  completed  her  thirteenth  year,  was  married,  so 


Assassination  of  Mr  Thynne.  317 

far  at  least  as  the  performance  of  the  ceremony  went,  to 
Henry  Cavendish,  styled  Earl  of  Ogle,  the  only  son  of 
Henry,  second  Duke  of  Newcastle  of  that  house.  But 
Lord  Ogle,  who  had  taken  the  name  and  arms  of  Percy, 
died  in  the  beginning  of  November  1680,  within  a  year 
after  his  marriage,  leaving  his  father's  dukedom  without 
an  heir,  and  the  heiress  of  the  house  of  Northumberland 
a  prize  for  new  suitors. 

The  fortunate  man,  as  he  was  doubtless  deemed,  who, 
after  only  a  few  months,  succeeded  in  carrying  off  from 
all  competitors  the  youthful  widow,  was  Thomas  Thynne, 
Esq.,  of  Longleat,  in  Wiltshire,  from  his  large  income 
called  "  Tom  of  Ten  Thousand."  The  society  in  which 
he  moved  was  the  highest  in  the  land.  He  had  been 
at  one  time  a  friend  of  the  Duke  of  York,  afterwards 
James  II. ;  but,  having  quarrelled  with  his  Royal  High- 
ness, he  had  latterly  attached  himself  with  great  zeal 
to  the  Whig  or  opposition  party  in  politics,  and  had 
become  an  intimate  associate  of  their  idol,  or  tool  for 
the  moment,  the  Duke  of  Monmouth.  He  had  sate 
as  one  of  the  members  for  Wiltshire  in  four  parlia- 
ments. At  Longleat,  where  he  lived  in  a  style  of  great 
magnificence,  Thynne  was  often  visited  by  Monmouth  : 
he  is  the  Issachar  of  Dryden's  glowing  description,  in 
the  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  of  the  Duke's  popularity- 
and-plaudit-gathering  progresses : — 

From  east  to  west  his  glories  he  displays, 
And,  like  the  sun,  the  Promised  Land  surveys. 
Fame  runs  before  him,  as  the  morning  star, 
And  shouts  of  joy  salute  him  from  afar ; 
Each  house  receives  him  as  a  guardian  god, 
And  consecrates  the  place  of  his  abode. 
But  hospitable  treats  did  most  commend, 
Wise  Issachar,  his  wealthy  western  friend. 


3 1 8  Romance  of  London. 

A  set  of  Oldenburg  coach-horses,  of  great  beauty,  which 
graced  the  Duke's  equipage,  had  been  presented  to  him 
by  Thynne. 

The  heiress  of  the  house  of  Percy  was  nearly  con- 
nected by  affinity  with  the  families  both  of  Lord  Russell 
and  Lord  Cavendish ;  Lady  Russell  was  a  sister  of  her 
mother  ;  and  the  family  of  her  late  husband,  Lord  Ogle, 
was  a  branch  of  that  of  the  Earl  of  Devonshire ;  so 
that  it  may  be  supposed  Thynne  was  probably  in  part 
indebted  for  his  success  in  his  suit  to  the  good  offices  of 
his  two  noble  friends.  It  would  appear,  however,  from 
an  entry  in  Evelyn's  Diary,  that  the  Duke  of  Monmouth 
was  more  instrumental  than  either. 

The  lady  was  fated  to  be  a  second  time  wedded  only 
in  form  :  her  marriage  with  Thynne  appears  to  have 
taken  place  in  the  summer  or  autumn  of  this  year  1681 ; 
and  she  was  separated  from  him  immediately  after  the 
ceremony.  One  account  is,  that  she  fled  from  him  of 
her  own  accord  into  Holland  ;  another,  and  more  pro- 
bable version  of  the  story,  makes  Thynne  to  have  con- 
sented, at  her  mother's  request,  that  she  should  spend  a 
year  on  the  Continent.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  she 
was  not  yet  quite  fifteen.  The  legality  of  the  marriage, 
indeed,  appears  to  have  been  called  in  question. 

It  was  now,  as  some  say,  that  she  first  met  Count 
Koningsmarck  at  the  Court  of  Hanover;  but  in  this 
notion  there  is  a  confusion  both  of  dates  and  persons. 
The  Count,  in  fact,  appears  to  have  seen  her  in  England, 
and  to  have  paid  his  addresses  to  her  before  she  gave 
her  hand,  or  had  it  given  for  her,  to  Thynne :  on  his 
rejection  he  left  the  country ;  but  that  they  met  on  the 
Continent  there  is  no  evidence  or  likelihood. 

Koningsmarck  appears  to  have  returned  to  England 


Assassination  of  Mr  Thynne.  319 

in  the  early  part  of  the  year  16S1.  At  this  time  Tom 
of  Ten  Thousand,  with  the  heiress  of  Northumberland, 
his  own  by  legal  title  if  not  in  actual  possession,  was 
at  the  height  both  of  his  personal  and  his  political 
fortunes. 

On  the  night  of  Sunday,  the  12th  of  February  1682, 
all  the  Court  end  of  London  was  startled  by  the  news 
that  Thynne  had  been  shot  passing  along  the  public 
streets  in  his  coach.  The  spot  was  towards  the  eastern 
extremity  of  Pall  Mall,  directly  opposite  to  St  Alban's 
Street,  no  longer  to  be  found,  but  which  occupied 
nearly  the  same  site  with  the  covered  passage  now 
called  the  Opera  Arcade.  St  Alban's  Place,  which  was 
at  its  northern  extremity,  still  preserves  the  memory  of 
the  old  name.  King  Charles  at  Whitehall  might  almost 
have  heard  the  report  of  the  assassin's  blunderbuss  ; 
and  so  might  Dryden,  sitting  in  his  favourite  front  room 
on  the  ground-floor  of  his  house  on  the  south  side  of 
Gerrard  Street,  also  hardly  more  than  a  couple  of  fur- 
longs distant. 

Meanwhile,  an  active  search  continued  to  be  made 
after  Koningsmarck,  in  urging  which  Thynne's  friends, 
the  Duke  of  Monmouth  and  Lord  Cavendish,  are 
recorded  to  have  been  especially  zealous. 

About  eight  o'clock  on  the  night  of  Sunday,  the  19th, 
exactly  a  week  after  the  commission  of  the  murder,  he 
was  apprehended  at  Gravesend  ;  and  on  the  Monday 
following  he  was  brought  up,  under  a  guard  of  soldiers, 
to  London. 

Thynne  had  survived  his  mortal  wound  only  a  few 
hours,  during  which  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  sat  by  the 
bedside  of  his  dying  friend.  He  expired  at  six  in  the 
morning.     Koningsmarck  and  the  other  three  prisoners, 


3  20  Romance  of  L ondon. 

after  being  examined,  were  lodged  in  Newgate  ;  and, 
an  indictment  having  been  found  against  them  by  the 
grand  jury,  at  Hick's  Hall,  on  Monday,  the  27th  of 
February  1681,  they  were  the  next  day  brought  up  to 
the  bar  at  the  Old  Bailey  to  be  arraigned  and  tried  : 
Charles  George  Borosky,  alias  Boratzi,  Christopher 
Vratz,  and  John  Stern,  as  principals  in  the  murder ; 
and  Charles  John  Count  Koningsmarck,  as  accessory 
before  the  fact. 

The  evidence,  and  indeed  their  own  confessions, 
clearly  proved  the  fact  of  Borosky  shooting  Thynne, 
and  Vratz  and  Stern  being  present  assisting  him. 

With  respect  to  Koningsmarck,  besides  the  testimony 
of  his  accomplices,  which  of  course  went  for  nothing 
against  him,  the  other  evidence  showed  him  living 
concealed  in  a  humble  lodging,  and  holding  communi- 
cation with  the  murderers  before  and  almost  at  the  time 
of  the  murder.  He  had  also  fled  immediately  after  the 
offence  was  committed,  and  expressions  of  his  in  anger 
against  Thynne  for  espousing  Lady  Ogle,  were  given 
by  the  witnesses.  To  this  it  was  answered  by  Konings- 
marck, that  the  men  accused  were  his  followers  and 
servants,  and  that  of  necessity  he  had  frequent  com- 
munion with  them,  but  never  about  this  murder ;  that 
when  he  arrived  in  London,  he  was  seized  with  a  dis- 
temper which  obliged  him  to  live  privately  till  he  was 
cured  ;  and,  finally,  that  he  never  saw,  or  had  any 
quarrel  with,  Mr  Thynne.  This  defence,  though  morally 
a  very  weak  one,  was  certainly  strengthened  by  the 
absence  of  direct  legal  proof  to  connect  the  Count  with 
the  assassination  ;  and  also  by  the  more  than  ordinarily 
artful  and  favourable  summing  up  of  Chief  Justice 
Pemberton,  who  seemed  determined  to  save  him. 


Assassination  of  Mr  Thymic.  321 

To  the  universal  astonishment  (save  of  Charles  and 
his  court),  the  Count  was  acquitted,  while  his  poor  tools 
were  hanged  ;  the  body  of  one  of  them,  a  Pole,  being 
gibbetted  "at  Mile-End, — being  the  road  from  the  sea- 
ports where  most  of  the  northern  nations  do  land." 
How  the  Count  slipped  his  neck  from  the  halter  is 
pretty  clearly  indicated.  Not  only  was  the  King's 
inclination  in  favour  of  the  Count  known  ;    but  "  one 

Mr   B ,   a  woollen-draper  in   Covent    Garden,  who 

was  warned  to  be  on  Count  Koningsmarck's  tryall  jury, 
was  askt  if  500  guinies  would  do  him  any  harm,  if  he 
would  acquit  the  Count ;  but  there  being  jurymen 
besides  enough,  he  was  not  called  ;  yet  this  he  hath 
attested."  This  was  a  large  sum  to  offer  to  a  single 
juryman,  for  there  is  little  doubt  but  the  full  pannel  was 
as  well  paid. 

The  convicted  prisoners  were  hanged  in  Pall  Mall 
the  10th  of  March  following  ;  and  Borosky,  who  fired 
the  blunderbuss,  was  suspended  in  chains  near  Mile- 
End,  as  above  stated. 

Evelyn  tells  us  that  "  Vratz  went  to  execution  like 
an  undaunted  hero,  as  one  that  had  done  a  fnendly 
office  for  that  base  coward,  Count  Koningsmarck,  who 
had  hopes  to  marry  his  widow,  the  rich  Lady  Ogle,  and 
was  acquitted  by  a  corrupt  jury,  and  so  got  away." 
Vratz  told  a  friend  of  Evelyn's,  who  accompanied  him 
to  the  gallows,  and  gave  him  some  advice,  "  that  he  did 
not  value  dying  of  a  rush,  and  hoped  and  believed  God 
would  deal  with  him  like  a  gentleman!' 

Count  Koningsmarck  found  it  expedient  to  export 
himself  from  this  country  as  fast  as  he  could,  after  he 
had  paid  his  fees  and  got  out  of  the  hands  of  the  officers 
of  justice  at  the  Old  Bailey. 

vol.  1.  x 


322  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

According  to  the  Amsterdam  Historical  Dictionary, 
he  went  to  Germany  to  visit  his  estates  in  1683  ;  was 
wounded  at  the  siege  of  Cambray,  which  happened  that 
same  year;  afterwards  went  with  his  regiment  to  Spain, 
where  he  distinguished  himself  at  the  siege  of  Gerona, 
in  Catalonia,  and  on  other  occasions ;  and,  finally,  in 
1686,  having  obtained  the  permission  of  the  French 
King,  accompanied  his  uncle,  Otho  William,  to  the 
Morea,  where  he  was  present  at  the  sieges  of  Navarin 
and  Modon,  and  at  the  Battle  of  Argos,  in  which  last 
affair  he  so  overheated  himself  that  he  was  seized  with 
a  pleurisy,  which  carried  him  off. 

To  end  the  story,  we  return  to  her  with  whom  it 
began,  the  heiress  of  the  long  line  and  broad  domains 
of  the  proud  Percies.  Lady  Ogle,  as  she  was  styled, 
became  an  object  of  still  greater  public  interest  or 
curiosity  than  ever,  on  the  catastrophe  of  her  second 
husband.  Her  third  husband  was  Charles  Seymour, 
Duke  of  Somerset. 

The  life  of  his  wife,  the  commencing  promise  of  which 
was  so  bright,  and  which  was  afterwards  chequered  with 
such  remarkable  incidents,  not  unmixed  with  the  wonted 
allotment  of  human  sorrow,  terminated  on  the  23rd  of 
November  1722.  The  Duchess,  when  she  died,  was  in 
her  fifty-sixth  year.  She  had  brought  the  Duke  thirteen 
children,  seven  sons  and  six  daughters,  of  whom  only 
one  son  and  three  daughters  arrived  at  maturity. 

Murder  of  Mount  fort,  the  Player. 

This  tragic  scene,  which  can  scarcely  be  called  a  duel, 
is  thus  circumstantially  related  in  Mr  Cunningham's 
excellent  Handbook   of  London.       In   Howard   Street, 


Murder  of  J\I on ntfort,  the  Player.  323 

between  Surrey  Street  and  Norfolk  Street,  in  the 
Strand,  lived  William  Mountfort,  the  player,  who  was 
murdered  before  his  own  door  on  the  night  of  the  9th 
of  December  1692.  "  The  story  is  an  interesting  one. 
A  gallant  of  the  town,  a  Captain  Richard  Hill,  had 
conceived  a  passion  for  Mrs  Bracegirdle,  the  beautiful 
actress.  He  is  said  to  have  offered  her  his  hand,  and  to 
have  been  refused.  His  passion  at  last  became  ungo- 
vernable, and  he  at  once  determined  on  carrying  her 
off  by  force.  For  this  purpose,  he  borrowed  a  suit  of 
night-linen  of  Mrs  Radd,  the  landlady  in  whose  house 
in  Buckingham  Court  he  lodged ;  and  induced  his 
friend,  Lord  Mohun,  to  assist  him  in  his  attempt ;  he 
dodged  the  fair  actress  for  a  whole  day  at  the  theatre, 
stationed  a  coach  near  the  Horseshoe  Tavern  in  Drury 
Lane,  to  carry  her  off  in,  and  hired  six  soldiers  to  force 
her  into  it,  as  she  returned  from  supping  with  Mr  Page, 
in  Prince's  Street  (off  Drury  Lane),  to  her  own  lodging 
in  the  house  of  Mrs  Dorothy  Brown,  in  Howard  Street. 
As  the  beautiful  actress  came  down  Drury  Lane,  at  ten 
at  night,  accompanied  by  her  mother  and  brother,  and 
escorted  by  her  friend  Mr  Page,  one  of  the  soldiers 
seized  her  in  his  arms,  and  endeavoured  to  force  her 
into  the  coach.  Page  resisting  the  attempt,  Hill  drew 
his  sword,  and  struck  a  blow  at  Page's  head,  which  fell, 
however,  only  on  his  hand.  The  lady's  screams  drew 
a  rabble  about  her,  and  Hill,  finding  his  endeavours 
ineffectual,  bid  the  soldiers  let  her  go. 

"  Lord  Mohun,  who  was  in  the  coach  all  this  time, 
now  stept  out  of  it,  and  with  his  friend  Hill,  insisted 
on  seeing  the  lady  home,  Mr  Page  accompanying  them, 
and  remaining  with  Mrs  Bracegirdle  some  time  after  for 
her  better  security.     Disappointed  in  their  object,  Lord 


324  Romance  of  London v 

Mohun  and  Captain  Hill  remained  in  the  street ;  Hill 
with  his  sword  drawn,  and  vowing  revenge,  as  he  had 
done  before  to  Mrs  Bracegirdle  on  her  way  home.  Here 
they  went  to  the  Horseshoe  Tavern  in  Drury  Lane,  for 
a  bottle  of  canary,  of  which  they  drank  in  the  middle  of 
the  street.  In  the  meantime,  Mrs  Bracegirdle  sent  her 
servant  to  Mr  Mountfort's  house  in  Norfolk  Street 
adjoining,  to  know  if  he  was  at  home.  The  servant 
returned  with  an  answer  that  he  was  not,  and  was  sent 
again  by  her  mistress  to  desire  Mrs  Mountfort  to  send 
to  her  husband  to  take  care  of  himself;  '  in  regard  my 
Lord  Mohun  and  Captain  Hill,  who  (she  feared)  had 
no  good  intention  toward  him,  did  wait  him  in  the 
street.'  Mountfort  was  sought  for  in  several  places 
without  success,  but  Mohun  and  Hill  had  not  waited 
long  before  he  turned  the  corner  of  Norfolk  Street  with, 
it  is  said  by  one  witness  (Captain  Hill's  servant),  his 
sword  over  his  arm.  It  appears,  in  the  evidence  before 
the  coroner,  that  he  had  heard  while  in  Norfolk  Street 
(if  not  before),  of  the  attempt  to  carry  off  Mrs  Brace- 
girdle, and  was  also  aware  that  Lord  Mohun  and  Hill 
were  in  the  street,  for  Mrs  Brown,  the  landlady  of  the 
house  in  which  Mrs  Bracegirdle  lodged,  solicited  him  to 
keep  away.  Every  precaution  was,  however,  ineffectual. 
He  addressed  Lord  Mohun  (who  embraced  him,  it  would 
appear,  very  tenderly),  and  said  how  sorry  he  was  to 
find  that  he  (Lord  Mohun)  would  justify  the  rudeness 
of  Captain  Hill,  or  keep  company  with  such  a  pitiful 
fellow  ('  or  words  to  the  like  effect '),  '  and  then,'  says 
Thomas  Leak,  the  Captain's  servant,  '  the  Captain  came 
forward  and  said  he  would  justify  himself,  and  went 
towards  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  Mr  Mountfort 
followed   him   and  drew.'       Ann   Jones,   a  servant  (it 


Murder  of  Mountfort,  the  Player.  325 

would  appear,  in  Mrs  Bracegirdle's  house),  declared 
in  evidence  that  Hill  came  behind  Mountfort,  and  gave 
him  a  box  over  the  ear,  and  bade  him  draw.  It  is  said 
they  fought  ;  Mountfort  certainly  fell  with  a  desperate 
wound  on  the  right  side  of  the  belly,  near  the  short  rib, 
of  which  he  died  the  next  day,  assuring  Mr  Page,  while 
lying  on  the  floor  in  his  own  parlour,  as  Page  declares 
in  evidence,  that  Hill  ran  him  through  the  body  before 
he  could  draw  his  sword.  Lord  Mohun  affirmed  they 
fought,  and  that  he  saw  a  piece  of  Mountfort's  sword 
lying  on  the  ground.  As  Mountfort  fell,  Hill  ran  off, 
and  the  Duchy  watch  coming  up,  Lord  Mohun  sur- 
rendered himself,  with  his  sword  still  in  the  scabbard. 

"  The  scene  of  this  sad  tragedy  was  that  part  of 
Howard  Street  which  lies  between  Norfolk  Street  and 
Surrey  Street.  Mountfort's  house  was  two  doors  from 
the  south-west  corner.  Mountfort  was  a  handsome 
man,  and  Hill  is  said  to  have  attributed  his  rejection  by 
Mrs  Bracegirdle  to  her  love  for  Mountfort,  an  unlikely 
passion,  it  is  thought,  as  Mountfort  was  a  married  man, 
with  a  good-looking  wife  of  his  own — afterwards  Mrs 
Verbruggen,  and  a  celebrated  actress  withal.  Mount- 
fort (only  thirty-three  when  he  died)  lies  buried  in  the 
adjoining  church  of  St  Clement's  Danes.  Mrs  Brace- 
girdle  continued  to  inhabit  her  old  quarters.  '  Above 
forty  years  since,'  says  Davics,  '  I  saw  at  Mrs  Brace- 
girdle's  house  in  Howard  Street  a  picture  of  Mrs  Barry, 
by  Kneller,  in  the  same  apartments  with  the  portraits 
of  Betterton  and  Congreve.'  Hill's  passionate  prompter 
on  the  above  occasion  was  the  same  Lord  Mohun  who 
fell  in  a  duel  with  the  Duke  of  Hamilton." 


326  Romance  of  L  ondou. 

Two  Extraordinary  Suicides  at  London 

Bridge. 

A  MELANCHOLY  instance  of  suicide,  which  took  place 
in  1689,  is  recorded  by  historians  of  London  Bridge 
as  bearing  testimony  to  the  power  of  the  torrent  of 
the  Thames  at  that  period.  It  is  thus  narrated  in  the 
Travels  and  Memoirs  of  Sir  JoJin  Rcresby,  Bart. : — 
"About  this  time,"  says  the  author,  "a  very  sad 
accident  happened,  which,  for  a  while,  was  the  dis- 
course of  the  whole  town :  Mr  Temple,  son  to  Sir 
William  Temple,  who  had  married  a  French  lady  with 
20,000  pistols,  a  sedate  and  accomplished  young 
gentleman,  who  had  lately  by  King  William  been  made 
Secretary  of  War,  took  a  pair  of  oars,  and  drawing  near 
the  Bridge,  leapt  into  the  Thames,  and  drowned  him- 
self, leaving  a  note  behind  him  in  the  boat  to  this  effect : 
'My  folly  in  undertaking  what  I  could  not  perform, 
whereby  some  misfortunes  have  befallen  the  King's 
service,  is  the  cause  of  my  putting  myself  to  this  sudden 
end  ;  I  wish  him  success  in  all  his  undertakings,  and  a 
better  servant.'"  Pennant,  in  repeating  this  anecdote, 
adds,  that  it  took  place  on  the  14th  of  April;  that  the 
unhappy  man  loaded  his  pockets  with  stones  to  destroy 
all  chance  of  safety,  and  instantly  sank  ;  adding  that 
"his  father's  false  and  profane  reflection  on  the  occasion 
was,  '  that  a  wise  man  might  dispose  of  himself,  and 
make  his  life  as  short  as  he  pleased/  How  strongly 
did  this  great  man  militate  against  the  precepts  of 
Christianity,  and  the  solid  arguments  of  the  most  wise 
and  pious  heathen  ! "  (Cicero,  in  his  S omnium  Sci- 
pionis.) 


Two  Suicides  at  London  Bridge.  327 

The  second  suicide,  of  date  about  half  a  century  later 
than  that  of  Mr  Temple,  was  committed  under  a  like 
mistaken  influence  and  perverted  reasoning.  Eustace 
Budgell,  who  contributed  to  the  Spectator  the  papers 
marked  "  X,"  through  Addison's  influence  obtained 
some  subordinate  offices  under  Government  in  Ireland. 
A  misunderstanding  with  the  Lord-Lieutenant,  Lord 
Bolton,  and  some  lampoons  which  Budgell  was  indis- 
creet enough  to  write  in  consequence,  occasioned  his 
resignation.  From  that  time  he  appears  to  have  trodden 
a  downward  course  ;  he  lost  .£20,000  in  the  South  Sea 
bubble,  and  spent  .£5000  more  in  unsuccessful  attempts 
to  get  into  Parliament.  In  order  to  save  himself  from 
ruin,  he  joined  the  knot  of  pamphleteers  who  scribbled 
against  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  he  was  presented  with 
.£1000  by  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough.  Much  of  the 
Craftsman  was  written  by  him,  as  well  as  a  weekly 
pamphlet  called  The  Bee,  which  commenced  in  1733,  and 
extended  to  one  hundred  numbers.  But  his  necessities 
reduced  him  to  dishonest  methods  for  procuring  support, 
and  he  obtained  a  place  in  the  Dunciad,  not  on  account 
of  want  of  wit,  but  want  of  principle,  by  appearing  as  a 
legatee  in  Tindal's  will  for  £2000,  to  the  exclusion  of  his 
next  heir  and  nephew;  a  bequest  which  Budgell  is 
thought  to  have  obtained  surreptitiously,  and  the  will 
was  set  aside.  With  this  stain  on  his  character,  Budgell 
fought  on  for  some  time,  but  he  became  still  deeper 
involved  in  lawsuits,  his  debts  accumulated,  and  at  last 
he  dreaded  an  execution  in  his  house.  This  prompted 
the  alternative  of  suicide.  In  1736,  he  took  a  boat  at 
Somerset  Stairs,  and  ordering  the  waterman  to  row 
down  the  river,  he  threw  himself  into  the  stream  as  they 
shot  London  Bridge.     Having,  like  Mr  Temple,  taken 


328  Romance  of  London. 

the  precaution  of  filling  his  pockets  with  stones,  like 
him,  Budgell  rose  no  more.  It  is  singular  that  Pennant 
should  have  overlooked  this  latter  suicide,  for  in  his 
London  he  remarks,  "  Of  the  multitudes  who  have 
perished  in  this  rapid  descent  (the  torrent  at  the  bridge), 
the  name  of  no  one  of  any  note  has  reached  my  know- 
ledge except  that  of  Mr  Temple,  only  son  of  the  great 
Sir  William  Temple." 

On  the  morning  before  that  on  which  Budgell 
drowned  himself,  he  had  endeavoured  to  persuade  a 
natural  daughter,  at  that  time  not  more  than  eleven 
years  of  age,  to  accompany  him.  She,  however,  refused, 
and  afterwards  entered  as  an  actress  at  Drury  Lane 
Theatre.  Budgell  left  in  his  secretary  a  slip  of  paper, 
on  which  was  written  a  broken  distich,  intended,  per- 
haps, as  an  apology  for  his  act : — 

What  Cato  did,  and  Addison  approved, 
Cannot  be  wrong. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  point  out  the  fallacy  of  his 
defence  of  his  conduct,  there  being  as  little  resemblance 
between  the  cases  of  Budgell  and  Cato,  as  there  is 
reason  for  considering  Addison's  Cato  written  with  the 
view  of  defending  suicide. 

Extraordinary  Escape  from  Death. 

Sheriff  Hoare,  in  his  Journal  of  his  Shrievalty,  relates 
that,  on  Monday,  November  24,  1740,  five  persons  were 
executed  at  Tyburn,  when  a  most  extraordinary  event 
happened  to  one  of  them — William  Duell,  aged  seven- 
teen years,  indicted  for  a  rape,  robbery,  and  murder, 
and   corvicted  of  the  rape.     Duell,  after  having  been 


Extraordinary  Escape  from  Death.  329 

hung  up  by  the  neck  with  the  others,  for  the  space  of 
twenty-two  minutes,  or  more,  was  cut  down,  and  being 
begged  by  the  Surgeons'  Company,  was  carried  in  a 
hackney-coach  to  their  hall  to  be  anatomised.  But 
just  as  they  had  taken  him  out  of  the  coach,  and  laid 
him  on  a  table  in  the  hall,  in  order  to  make  the 
necessary  preparations  for  cutting  him  up,  he  was,  to 
the  great  astonishment  of  the  surgeon  and  assistants, 
heard  to  groan ;  and  upon  examination,  finding  he  had 
some  other  symptoms  of  life,  some  of  the  surgeons  let 
him  bleed  ;  after  having  taken  several  ounces,  he  began 
to  stir,  and  in  a  short  space  of  time  was  able  to  rear 
himself  up,  but  could  not  immediately  speak  so  as  to  be 
heard  articulately.  Messages  were  sent  to  the  Sheriffs, 
and  the  news  was  soon  spread  about,  insomuch  that  by 
five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  a  great  mob  had  gathered 
about  Surgeons'  Hall,  in  the  Old  Bailey,  which  intimi- 
dated the  Sheriffs  and  their  officers  from  attempting  to 
carry  Duell  back  the  same  day  in  order  to  hang  him  up 
again,  and  complete  his  execution  ;  "  as,"  says  Sheriff 
Iloare,  "we  might  have  done  by  virtue  of  our  warrant, 
which  was  to  execute  him  at  any  time  in  the  day." 
Therefore  they  kept  him  till  about  twelve  o'clock  at 
night,  when,  the  mob  being  dispersed,  the  Sheriff  signed 
an  order  for  his  rc-commitment  to  Newgate,  whither  he 
was  accordingly  carried  in  a  hackney-coach  ;  being  put 
into  one  of  the  cells,  and  covered  up,  and  some  warm 
broth  given  him,  he  began  so  far  to  recover  as  to  be 
able  to  speak,  and  ask  for  more  victual,  but  did  not  yet 
seem  sensible  enough  to  remember  what  had  happened. 
Two  days  afterwards,  the  Sheriffs  waited  on  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle,  Secretary  of  State,  to  know  his  Majesty's 
pleasure  regarding  the  disposal  of  the  criminal  who  had 


330  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

thus  strangely  escaped  dissection  and  death,  and  who 
was  then  in  Newgate,  "fully  recovered  in  health  and 
senses."  His  Grace  desired  the  Sheriffs  to  draw  up  a 
narrative  of  the  circumstances  in  writing,  which  was 
accordingly  done ;  and  it  was  added,  that  the  prisoner 
had  been  found  guilty  on  no  other  evidence  but  his 
own  confession  before  a  Justice  of  the  Peace. 

The  story  of  the  lad's  recovery  now  became  known, 
and  persons  flocked  to  Newgate  to  see  him  and  ask  him 
questions,  but  he  remembered  nothing  of  his  being 
carried  to  execution,  or  even  of  his  being  brought  to 
trial ;  yet  Grub  Street  Papers  cried  about  the  streets 
gave  accounts  of  the  wonderful  discoveries  he  had  made 
in  the  other  world,  of  the  ghosts  and  apparitions  he  had 
seen,  "  and  such  like  invented  stuff  to  get  a  penny." 
The  conjectures  of  his  not  dying  under  the  execution 
were  various  ;  some  suggesting  it  was  because  he  was 
not  hung  up  long  enough ;  others,  that  the  rope  was 
not  rightly  placed  ;  others,  from  the  light  weight  of  his 
body.  But  the  true  reason,  as  Sheriff  Hoare  was  in- 
formed, was  accounted  for  physically, — he  having  been 
in  a  high  fever  since  his  commitment  to  Newgate,  for 
the  most  part  light-headed  and  delirious ;  and,  conse- 
quently, having  no  impression  of  fear  upon  him,  and 
his  blood  circulating  with  violent  heat  and  quickness, 
might  be  the  reason  why  it  was  the  longer  before  it 
could  be  stopped  by  suffocation ;  and  this  likewise 
accounted  for  his  not  knowing  anything,  that  had  hap- 
pened (he  being  so  ill)  either  at  his  trial  or  execution. 

It  does  not  appear  from  the  Sheriff's  Journal  whether 
Duell  received  a  pardon  ;  but  the  Gentleman  s  Magazine 
for  December,  in  the  above  year,  informs  us  that  he  was 
transported  for  life.     It  also  varies  the  statement  of  the 


Hitman  Heads  on  Temple  Bar.  331 

resuscitation — that  when  one  of  the  servants  at  Surgeons' 
Hall  was  washing  the  body  for  dissection,  he  found  the 
breath  to  come  quicker  and  shorter,  on  which  a  surgeon 
took  some  ounces  of  blood  from  him,  and  in  two  hours 
he  was  able  to  sit  up  in  a  chair. 

That  this  was  by  no  means  the  only  instance  of  the 
resuscitation  of  the  human  body  after  it  had  been  con- 
veyed to  Surgeons'  Hall  for  dissection,  is  evident  from 
the  following  curious  order,  made  at  a  Court  of  Assist- 
ants, on  the  13th  of  July  1587,  which  is  copied  from  the 
minute-books  of  the  Company,  and  here  modernised  : 
"  Item.  It  is  agreed  that  if  any  body  which  shall  at  any 
time  hereafter  happen  to  be  brought  to  our  hall  for  the 
intent  to  be  wrought  upon  by  the  anatomists  of  our 
Company,  shall  revive  or  come  to  life  again,  as  has  of  late 
been  seen,  the  charges  about  the  same  body  so  reviving 
shall  be  borne,  levied,  and  sustained  by  such  person  or 
persons  who  shall  happen  to  bring  home  the  body. 
And,  further,  shall  abide  such  order  or  fine  as  this 
House  shall  award."  Here  we  see  that  the  charges 
were  more  attended  to  by  the  Court  than  any  other 
consideration. 

Human  Heads  on  Temple  Bar. 

After  the  remains  of  traitors  ceased  to  be  placed  on 
London  Bridge,  when  the  right  to  dispose  of  the  quar- 
tered remains  of  the  subject  devolved  on  the  Crown,  that 
right,  as  regards  those  who  had  suffered  for  high  treason 
in  London,  was,  with  few  exceptions,  wholly  or  partially 
exercised  in  favour  of  Temple  Bar.  Thus  the  City  Bar 
became  the  City  Golgotha.  The  first  person  so  exposed 
was  Sir  Thomas  Armstrong,  the  last  victim  of  the  Rye 


332  Romance  of  London. 

House  Plot.  He  was  executed  at  Tyburn  ;  his  head 
was  set  up  on  Westminster  Hall,  and  one  of  the  quarters 
upon  Temple  Bar.  Sir  John  Friend  and  Sir  William 
Perkins,  conspirators  in  the  plot  to  carry  off  the  King  in 
1695,  on  his  return  from  Richmond  to  Kensington,  were 
the  next  ornaments  of  the  Bar ;  the  head  and  limbs  of 
Friend,  and  the  headless  trunk  of  Perkins,  being  placed 
upon  its  iron  spikes.  Evelyn  refers  to  this  melancholy 
scene  "  as  a  dismal  sight,  which  many  pitied.  I  think 
there  never  was  such  a  Temple  Bar  till  now,  except  once 
in  the  time  of  King  Charles  the  Second — viz.,  Sir  Thomas 
Armstrong."  The  head  of  Sir  John  Friend  was  set  up 
on  Aldgate  ;  on  account,  it  is  presumed,  of  that  gate 
being  in  the  proximity  of  his  brewery.  Sir  John  Fen- 
wick,  nearly  the  last  person  to  suffer  on  account  of  this 
conspiracy,  is  not  associated  with  the  Bar  ;  but  there  is 
a  remarkable  coincidence  in  the  death  of  King  William 
being  not  altogether  unassociated  with  the  execution  of 
this  northern  baronet.  The  King,  on  the  morning  of 
February  21,  1702,  rode  into  the  Home  Park  at  Hampton 
Court,  to  inspect  the  progress  of  a  new  canal  there,  and 
was  mounted  on  a  sorrel  pony,  which  had  formerly  been 
the  property  of  the  unfortunate  Sir  John  Fenwick. 
W'illiam  having  reached  the  works,  the  pony  accidentally 
placed  his  foot  in  a  molehill,  and  fell ;  the  King's  collar- 
bone was  fractured  by  the  fall,  of  the  effects  of  which  he 
expired  March  8.  The  adherents  of  James  eulogised 
their  beloved  "  Sorrel ;  "  and  the  wit  of  Pope  was  shown 
in  the  following  jeu  d' esprit,  contrasting  the  safety  of 
Charles  in  the  oak  at  Boscobel,  with  the  accident  to 
William  in  the  gardens  at  Hampton  : — 

Angels  who  watched  the  guardian  oak  so  well, 
How  chanced  ye  slept  when  luckless  Sorrel  fell  ! 


Human  Heads  on  Temple  Bar.  ^33 

To  return  to  Temple  Bar.  The  next  head  placed  on 
its  summit  was  that  of  Colonel  Henry  Oxburg,  who 
suffered  for  his  attachment  to  the  cause  of  the  Pretender. 
Next  was  the  head  of  Christopher  Layer,  another  of 
the  Pretender's  adherents,  whose  head  frowned  from 
the  crown  of  the  arch  for  a  longer  period  than  any  other 
occupant.  On  the  17th  of  May  1 723,  nearly  seven 
months  after  his  trial,  he  was  conducted  from  the  Tower 
to  Tyburn,  seated  in  a  ditch,  habited  in  a  full  dress 
suit,  and  a  tye-wig  ;  and  at  the  place  of  execution  he 
declared  his  adherence  to  King  James  (as  he  called  the 
Pretender),  and  advised  the  people  to  take  up  arms  on 
his  behalf.  "  The  day  subsequent  to  his  execution,  his 
head  was  placed  on  Temple  Bar ;  there  it  remained, 
blackened  and  weather-beaten  with  the  storms  of  many 
successive  years,  until,  as  we  have  remarked,  it  became 
its  oldest  occupant.  Infancy  had  advanced  into  matured 
manhood,  and  still  that  head  regularly  looked  down 
from  the  summit  of  the  arch.  It  seemed  part  of  the 
arch  itself."  *  A  curious  story  is  told  of  Counsellor 
Layer's  head.  One  stormy  night  it  was  blown  from  off 
the  Bar  into  the  Strand,  and  there  picked  up  by  Mr 
John  Pearce,  an  attorney,  who  showed  it  to  some  persons 
at  a  public-house,  under  the  floor  of  which  it  was  stated 
to  have  been  buried.  Dr  Rawlinson,  the  antiquary, 
meanwhile,  having  made  inquiries  after  the  head,  with  a 
wish  to  purchase  it,  was  imposed  upon  with  another 
instead  of  Layer's  head  ;  the  former  the  Doctor  pre- 
served as  a  valuable  relic,  and  directed  it  to  be  buried 
in  his  right  hand,  which  request  is  stated  to  have  been 
complied  with. 

*  Temple  Bar  ;  the  City  Golgotha.     By  a  Banister  of  the  Inner  Temple. 
1853- 


334  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

The  heads  of  the  victims  of  the  fatal  Rebellion  of  '45 
were  the  last  placed  upon  the  Bar  ;  those  being  Townley 
and  Fletcher.  Walpole  writes  to  Montague,  August  16, 
1746,  "  I  have  been  this  morning  at  the  Tower,  and 
passed  under  the  new  heads  at  Temple  Bar,  where 
people  make  a  trade  of  letting  spying-glasses  at  a  half- 
penny a  look."  There  is  a  scarce  print,  in  which  the 
position  of  the  heads  is  shown,  and  portraits  cleverly 
engraved.  For  several  weeks  people  flocked  to  this 
revolting  exhibition,  which  yielded  to  some  a  savage 
pleasure.  Dr  Johnson  relates  the  following  impression 
from  the  sight.  "  I  remember  once  being  with  Gold- 
smith in  Westminster  Abbey.  While  he  surveyed  Poets' 
Corner,  I  said  to  him  : — 

Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis. 

When   we   got   to   the   Temple   Bar,  he   stopped    me, 
pointed  to  the  heads  upon  it,  and  slily  whispered  me, 

Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis." 

Johnson  was  a  Jacobite  at  heart. 

Another  instance  of  political  feeling  is  narrated.  On 
the  morning  of  January  20,  1766,  between  two  and 
three  o'clock,  a  person  was  observed  to  watch  his  oppor- 
tunity of  discharging  musket-balls,  from  a  still  cross- 
bow, at  the  two  remaining  heads  upon  Temple  Bar. 
On  his  examination  he  affected  a  disorder  of  his  senses, 
and  said  his  reason  for  so  doing  was  his  strong  attach- 
ment to  the  present  Government,  and  that  he  thought 
it  was  not  sufficient  that  a  traitor  should  only  suffer 
death,  and  that  this  provoked  his  indignation  ;  and  that 
it  had  been  his  constant  practice  for  three  nights  past  to 
amuse  himself  in  the  same  manner ;  but  the  account 


Human  Heads  on  Temple  Bar.  335 

adds,  "  It  is  much  to  be  feared  that  he  is  a  near  relation 
to  one  of  the  unhappy  sufferers."  Another  account 
states  that,  "  Upon  searching  him,  above  fifty  musket- 
balls  were  found  wrapped  in  a  paper  with  this  motto, 
Eripuit  ille  vitam"  It  is  added,  that  on  March  31, 
1772,  one  of  the  heads  fell  down;  and  that  shortly 
after,  the  remaining  one  was  swept  down  by  the  wind. 
The  last  of  the  iron  poles  or  spikes  was  not  removed 
from  the  Bar  until  the  commencement  of  the  present 
century. 

Among  persons  living  in  the  present  century  who 
recollected  these  grim  tenants  of  the  Bar,  were  the  fol- 
lowing : — J.  T.  Smith  relates  that  in  1825,  a  person,  aged 
87,  remembered  the  heads  being  seen  with  a  telescope 
from  Leicester  Fields  ;  the  ground  between  which  and 
Temple  Bar  was  then  thinly  built  over.  Mrs  Black,  the 
wife  of  the  editor  of  the  Morning  Chronicle  newspaper, 
when  asked  if  she  remembered  the  heads  on  the  spikes 
on  the  Bar,  used  to  reply,  very  collectedly,  and,  as  usual 
with  her,  without  any  parade  of  telling  the  story  she  had 
to  relate,  "Boys,  I  recollect  the  scene  zvcll  I  I  have  seen 
on  that  Temple  Bar,  about  which  you  ask,  two  human 
heads — men's  heads — traitors'  heads — spiked  on  iron 
poles.  There  were  two.  I  saw  one  fall.  Women  shrieked 
as  it  fell ;  men,  I  have  heard,  shrieked :  one  woman  near 
me  fainted.  Yes,  I  recollect  seeing  human  heads  upon 
Temple  Bar." 

The  other  person  who  remembered  to  have  seen  human 
heads  upon  spikes  on  Temple  Bar  was  one  who  died  in 
December  1856 — Mr  Rogers,  the  banker-poet.  "I  well 
remember,"  he  said,  "one  of  the  heads  of  the  rebels 
upon  a  pole  at  Temple  Bar — a  black,  shapeless  lump. 
Another  pole  was  bare,  the  head  having  dropped  from 


336  Romance  of  London. 

it."  Mr  Rogers,  we  take  it,  was  the  last  surviving  person 
who  remembered  to  have  seen  a  human  head  on  a  spike 
on  the  Bar. 


Adventure  with  a  Forger. 

Dr  Somerville,  of  Edinburgh,  in  his  Second  Journey- 
to  London,  relates  the  following  singular  adventure, 
which  is  especially  interesting  for  the  portrait  which  it 
gives  of  Sir  John  Fielding,  the  police  magistrate  : — 

"  One  of  our  travelling  companions,  whose  behaviour 
had  excited  various  conjectures  in  the  course  of  our 
journey,  was  apprehended  at  the  Bank  of  England  the 
day  after  our  arrival  on  the  charge  of  forgery.  He  had, 
in  fact,  forged  and  circulated  the  notes  of  the  bank  to  a 
very  large  amount.  He  was  carried  before  Sir  John 
Fielding,  who  in  a  few  hours  discovered  the  lodgings  of 
the  several  persons  who  had  places  in  the  York  coach 
along  with  the  suspected  forger.  I  happened  to  be  in 
the  gallery  of  the  House  of  Commons  when  one  of  Sir 
John's  officers  arrived  at  my  sister's  house  in  Panton 
Square,  requiring  my  immediate  attendance  at  the  Police 
Office ;  and  it  was  not  without  entreaty  that  the  mes- 
senger was  prevailed  upon  to  desist  from  his  purpose  of 
following  me  to  the  House,  upon  the  condition  of  one 
of  my  friends  becoming  security  for  my  attendance  in 
Catherine  Street  at  eight  o'clock  next  morning.  The 
prisoner  had,  during  the  night,  made  an  attempt  to 
escape  by  leaping  from  the  window  of  the  room  where 
he  was  confined ;  and  having  failed  in  this  attempt,  his 
resolution  forsook  him ;  and  he  made  a  voluntary  con- 
fession of  his  guilt  in  the  presence  of  Sir  John  Fielding, 
a  few  minutes  before  my  arrival.     Sir  John,  when  in- 


Adventure  with  a  Forger.  337 

formed  of  my  being  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land, desired  me  to  retire  with  the  culprit,  whose  name 
was  Mathewson,  to  the  adjoining  chapel,  and  give  him 
admonitions  suitable  to  his  unfortunate  situation.  In 
consequence  of  my  advice,  he  made  a  more  ample  con- 
fession on  returning  to  the  bar.  The  circumstances 
which  he  added  to  his  former  confession  were  not,  how- 
ever, injurious  to  himself,  otherwise  I  should  not  have 
urged  him  to  mention  them,  but  such  as  I  thought  could 
not  be  concealed  consistently  with  the  sincerity  of  that 
repentance  which  he  now  professed. 

"  I  was  so  much  amused  and  interested  with  the 
appearance  of  Sir  John  Fielding,  and  the  singular  adroit- 
ness with  which  he  conducted  the  business  of  his  office, 
that  I  continued  there  for  an  hour  after  the  removal  of 
Mathewson,  while  Sir  John  was  engaged  in  the  investi- 
gation of  other  cases.  Sir  John  had  a  bandage  over  his 
eyes,  and  held  a  little  switch  or  rod  in  his  hand,  waving 
it  before  him  as  he  descended  from  the  bench.  The 
sagacity  he  discovered  in  the  questions  he  put  to  the 
witnesses,  and  a  marked  and  successful  attention,  as  I 
conceived,  not  only  to  the  words,  but  to  the  accents  and 
tones  of  the  speaker,  supplied  the  advantage  which  is 
usually  rendered  by  the  eye !  and  his  skilful  arrange- 
ment of  the  questions  leading  to  the  detection  of  con- 
cealed facts,  impressed  me  with  the  highest  respect  for 
his  singular  ability  as  a  police  magistrate.  This  testi- 
mony I  give  not  merely  on  the  observation  I  had  the 
opportunity  of  making  on  the  day  of  my  appearance 
before  him. 

"  I   frequently  afterwards  gratified   my  curiosity  by 

stepping  into  Sir  John  Fielding's  office  when  I  happened 

to  pass  near  Catherine  Street.     The  accidental  circum- 
vui..  1.  Y 


33S  Romance  of  L ondon. 

stance  of  my  having  been  his  fellow-traveller  to  London, 
gave  me  some  interest  in  Mathewson,  who,  before  his 
being  removed  from  the  office  of  Sir  John  Fielding,  had 
addressed  me  in  the  most  pathetic  and  earnest  language, 
beseeching  me  to  condescend  to  visit  him  in  prison.  I 
first  saw  him  again  in  Clerkenwell,  where  he  was  com- 
mitted till  the  term  of  the  Old  Bailey  Sessions.  The 
hardened,  ferocious  countenances  of  the  multitude  of 
felons  all  in  the  same  apartment,  the  indecency  and  pro- 
faneness  of  their  conversation,  and  the  looks  of  derision 
which  they  cast  upon  me,  awakened  sensations  of  horror 
more  than  of  pity,  and  made  me  request  to  be  relieved 
from  the  repetition  of  this  painful  duty.  I  did  not, 
therefore,  return  to  Clerkenwell ;  but  after  Mathewson's 
trial,  and  a  few  days  before  his  execution  (for  he  was 
executed),  I  made  him  a  visit  in  Newgate.  There  I 
found  him  sitting  in  the  condemned  hold,  with  two  other 
criminals  under  sentence  of  death.  I  requested  the 
officer  who  superintended  this  department  to  permit  me 
to  retire  with  Mathewson  to  a  private  room,  where  he 
entered  into  a  detailed  confession  of  his  guilt.  Mathew- 
son, at  our  interview  in  Sir  John  Fielding's  office,  made 
known  to  me  a  circumstance  which  he  thought  gave  him 
a  strong  claim  to  my  humane  services.  He  told  me  that 
his  father  had  for  a  long  time  been  in  the  service  of  Lord 
Minto,  the  Lord  Justice-Clerk,  and  that  he  had  been 
afterwards  patronised  by  his  Lordship  and  all  his  family 
on  account  of  his  diligence  and  fidelity.  He  had  heard 
my  name  mentioned  at  the  inn  at  Newcastle,  a  circum- 
stance which  determined  him  to  take  a  place  in  the  same 
coach  ;  and,  indeed,  I  had  observed  that  he  officiously 
clung  to  me  in  the  progress  of  our  journey.  He  attended 
Mr  Maclagan  and  me  to  the  playhouse  on  Saturday 


Eccentric  Benevolence.  339 

evening  after  our  arrival  at  York,  to  the  Cathedral  ser- 
vice  on  Sunday  morning,  and  to  Dr  Cappe's  chapel  in 
the  afternoon  —  though,  on  account  of  his  suspicious 
appearance  and  the  petulance  of  his  manner,  we  gave 
him  broad  hints  of  our  inclination  to  dispense  with  his 
company :  and  we  were  not  a  little  surprised  to  find 
him  seated  in  the  stage-coach  next  morning,  as,  on  our 
way  from  Newcastle,  he  had  told  us  that  he  was  to  go 
no  farther  than  York." 

Eccentric  Benevolence. 

EDWARD,  sixth  Lord  Digby,  who  succeeded  to  the 
peerage  in  1752,  was  a  man  of  active  benevolence.  At 
Christmas  and  Easter,  he  was  observed  by  his  friends 
to  be  more  than  usually  grave,  and  then  always  to  have 
on  an  old  shabby  blue  coat.  Mr  Fox,  his  uncle,  who 
had  great  curiosity,  wished  much  to  find  out  his  nephew's 
motive  for  appearing  at  times  in  this  manner,  as  in 
general  he  was  esteemed  more  than  a  well-dressed  man. 
On  his  expressing  an  inclination  for  this  purpose,  Major 
Vaughan  and  another  gentleman  undertook  to  watch 
his  Lordship's  motions.  They  accordingly  set  out  ;  and 
observing  him  to  go  to  St  George's  Fields,  they  followed 
him  at  a  distance,  till  they  lost  sight  of  him  near  the 
Marshalsea  Prison.  Wondering  what  could  carry  a 
person  of  his  Lordship's  rank  and  fortune  to  such  a 
place,  they  inquired  of  the  turnkey  if  a  gentleman 
(describing  Lord  Digby)  had  not  just  entered  the 
prison  ? 

"  Yes,  masters,"  exclaimed  the  fellow,  with  an  oath  ; 
"  but  he  is  not  a  man,  he  is  an  angel ;  for  he  comes  here 
twice  a  year,  sometimes  oftcner,  and  sets  a  number  of 


340  Romance  of  London. 

prisoners  free.  And  he  not  only  docs  this,  but  he  gives 
them  sufficient  to  support  themselves  and  their  families 
till  they  can  find  employment.  This,"  continued  the 
man,  "  is  one  of  his  extraordinary  visits.  He  has  but  a 
few  to  take  out  to-day." 

"  Do  you  know  who  the  gentleman  is  ?  "  inquired  the 
Major. 

"  We  none  of  us  know  him  by  any  other  marks," 
replied  the  man,  "  but  by  his  humanity  and  his  blue 
coat." 

The  next  time  his  Lordship  had  on  his  almsgiving 
coat,  a  friend  asked  him  what  occasioned  his  wearing 
that  singular  dress.  The  reply  was,  by  Lord  Digby 
taking  the  gentleman  shortly  after  to  the  George  Inn, 
in  the  Borough,  where  seated  at  dinner  were  thirty 
individuals  whom  his  Lordship  had  just  released  from 
the  Marshalsea  Prison  by  paying  their  debts  in  full. 

The  Execution  of  Lord  Ferrers. 

In  the  last  year  of  the  reign  of  George  II.  (1760),  our 
criminal  annals  received  an  addition,  which,  for  atro- 
city, has  few  parallels.  Horace  Walpole,  in  his  Letters, 
relates  this  event  with  his  accustomed  minuteness  and 
spirit. 

In  January  of  the  above  year,  Earl  Ferrers,  while 
residing  at  his  seat,  Staunton  Harcourt,  in  Leicestershire, 
murdered  Johnson,  his  steward,  in  the  most  barbarous 
and  deliberate  manner.  The  Earl  had  been  separated 
by  Parliament  from  his  wife,  a  very  pretty  woman, 
whom  he  married  with  no  fortune,  for  the  most  ground- 
less barbarity,  and  then  killed  his  steward  for  having 
been  evidence  for  her.     "  He  sent  away  all  his  servants 


The  Execution  of  Lord  Ferrers.  341 

but  one,"  says  Walpole,  "and,  like  that  heroic  murderess, 
Queen  Christina,  carried  the  poor  man  through  a  gallery 
and  several  rooms,  locking  them  after  him,  and  then  bid 
the  man  kneel  down,  for  he  was  determined  to  kill  him. 
The  poor  creature  flung  himself  at  his  feet,  but  in  vain  ; 
was  shot,  and  lived  twelve  hours.  Mad  as  this  action 
was  from  the  consequences,  there  was  no  frenzy  in  his 
behaviour ;  he  got  drunk,  and  at  intervals  talked  of  it 
coolly;  but  did  not  attempt  to  escape,  till  the  colliers  beset 
his  house,  and  were  determined  to  take  him  alive  or 
dead.  He  is  now  in  the  gaol  at  Leicester,  and  will  soon 
be  removed  to  the  Tower,  then  to  Westminster  Hall, 
and  I  suppose  to  Tower  Hill ;  unless,  as  Lord  Talbot 
prophesied  in  the  House  of  Lords,  '  Not  being  thought 
mad  enough  to  be  shut  up  till  he  had  killed  somebody, 
he  will  then  be  thought  too  mad  to  be  executed  ;'  but 
Lord  Talbot  was  no  more  honoured  in  his  vocation  than 
other  prophets  are  in  their  own  country." 

Lord  Ferrers  was  tried  by  his  peers  in  Westminster 
Hall,  and  found  guilty;  he  was  condemned  to  be 
hanged,  and  to  the  mortification  of  the  peerage,  to  be 
anatomised,  according  to  the  tenor  of  the  new  Act  of 
Parliament  for  murder.  The  night  he  received  the 
sentence  he  played  at  picquet  with  the  Tower  warders, 
would  play  for  money,  and  would  have  continued  to 
play  every  evening,  but  they  refused.  The  governor 
of  the  Tower  shortened  his  allowance  of  wine  after  his 
conviction,  agreeably  to  the  late  strict  Acts  on  murder. 
This  he  much  disliked,  and  at  last  pressed  his  brother, 
the  clergyman,  to  intercede,  that  at  least  he  might 
have  more  porter ;  for,  said  he,  what  I  have  is  not  a 
draught.  His  brother  protested  against  it,  but  at  last 
consenting  (and  he  did  obtain  it),  then  said  the  Earl, 


342  Romance  of  London. 

"  Now  is  as  good  a  time  as  any  to  take  leave  of  you — ■ 
adieu  !" 

On  the  return  of  the  Earl  from  his  trial  and  con- 
demnation, and  when  the  procession  reached  Thames 
Street,  a  servant  of  some  oilmen  there,  who  had  been 
set  to  watch  the  boiling  of  some  inflammable  substances, 
and  who  left  his  charge  on  the  fire,  went  out  to  see  the 
pageant,  and  on  his  return  the  man  found  the  whole  of 
the  oilman's  premises  in  flames  :  seven  dwelling-houses 
were  consumed,  with  all  the  warehouses  on  Fresh 
Wharf,  and  the  roof  of  St  Magnus  Church ;  the  whole 
of  the  destruction  being  estimated  at  ^40,000. 

On  the  last  morning,  May  5,  the  Earl  dressed  himself 
in  his  wedding-clothes,  saying  he  thought  this  at  least 
as  good  an  occasion  for  putting  them  on  as  that  for 
which  they  were  first  made.  He  wore  them  to  Tyburn  : 
this  marked  the  strong  impression  on  his  mind.  His 
courage  rose  on  the  occasion  ;  even  an  awful  procession 
of  above  two  hours,  with  that  mixture  of  pageantry, 
shame,  and  ignominy,  nay,  and  of  delay,  could  not 
dismount  his  resolution.  He  set  out  from  the  Tower 
at  nine,  amidst  crowds,  thousands.  First  went  a  string 
of  constables  ;  then  one  of  the  sheriffs  in  his  chariot 
and  six,  the  horses  dressed  with  ribbons ;  next,  Lord 
Ferrers,  in  his  own  landau*  and  six,  his  coachman  crying 
all  the  way ;  guards  at  each  side  ;  the  other  sherift's 
carriage  following  empty,  with  a  mourning  coach  and 
six,  a  hearse,  and  the  Horse  Guards.  Observe,  that  the 
empty  chariot  was  that  of  the  other  sheriff,  who  was  in 
the  landau  with  the  prisoner,  and  who  was  Vaillant,  the 

*  The  carriage  was,  after  the  execution,  driven  to  Acton,  where  it  was 
placed  in  the  coach  house,  was  never  again  used,  but  remained  there  until 
it  fell  to  pieces.     The  Earl's  wife  was  burned  to  death  in  1S07. 


The  Execution  of  Lord  Ferrers.  343 

French  bookseller,  in  the  Strand.  Lord  Ferrers  at  first 
talked  on  indifferent  matters,  and  observing  the  pro- 
digious confluence  of  people  (the  blind  was  drawn  up 
on  his  side),  he  said — "  But  they  never  saw  a  lord 
hanged,  and  perhaps  will  never  see  another."  One  of 
the  dragoons  was  thrown  by  his  horse's  leg  entangling 
in  the  hind-wheel.  Lord  Ferrers  expressed  much  con- 
cern, and  said,  "  I  hope  there  will  be  no  death  to-day 
but  mine,"  and  was  pleased  when  Vaillant  told  him  the 
man  was  not  hurt.  Vaillant  made  excuses  to  him  on 
the  office.  "  On  the  contrary,'''  said  the  Earl,  "  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you.  I  feared  the  disagreeableness  of 
the  duty  might  make  you  depute  your  under-sheriff.  As 
you  are  so  good  as  to  execute  it  yourself,  I  am  persuaded 
the  dreadful  apparatus  will  be  conducted  with  more 
expedition."  The  chaplain  of  the  Tower,  who  sat  back- 
wards, then  thought  it  his  turn  to  speak,  and  began  to  talk 
on  religion  ;  but  Lord  Ferrers  received  it  impatiently. 

Meanwhile,  the  procession  was  stopped  by  the  crowd. 
The  Earl  said  he  was  thirsty,  and  wished  for  some  wine 
and  water.  The  Sheriff  refused  him.  "Then,"  said  the 
Earl,  "  I  must  be  content  with  this,"  and  took  some  pig- 
tail tobacco  out  of  his  pocket.  As  they  drew  nigh,  he 
said,  "  I  perceive  we  are  almost  arrived  ;  it  is  time  to 
do  what  little  more  I  have  to  do  ; "  and  then,  taking  out 
his  watch,  gave  it  to  Vaillant,  desiring  him  to  accept  it 
as  a  mark  of  gratitude  for  his  kind  behaviour,  adding, 
"It  is  scarce  worth  your  acceptance,  but  I  have  nothing 
else  ;  it  is  a  stop  watch,  and  a  pretty  accurate  one." 
He  gave  five  guineas  to  the  chaplain,  and  took  out  as 
much  for  the  executioner.  Then  giving  Vaillant  a 
pocket-book,  he  begged  him  to  deliver  it  to  Mrs  Clifford, 
his  mistress,  with  what  it  contained. 


2,44  Romance  of  L ondon. 

When  they  came  to  Tyburn,  the  coach  was  detained 
some  minutes  by  the  conflux  of  the  people  ;  but  as  soon 
as  the  door  was  opened,  Lord  Ferrers  stepped  out,  and 
mounted  the  scaffold  :  it  was  hung  with  black  by  the 
undertaker,  and  at  the  expense  of  his  family.  Under 
the  gallows  was  a  new  invented  stage,  to  be  struck  from 
beneath  him.  He  showed  no  kind  of  fear  or  discom- 
posure, only  just  looking  at  the  gallows  with  a  slight 
motion  of  dissatisfaction.  He  spoke  little,  kneeled  for 
a  moment  to  the  prayer,  said  "  Lord,  have  mercy  upon 
me,  and  forgive  me  my  errors,"  and  immediately 
mounted  the  upper  stage.  He  had  come  pinioned  with 
a  black  sash,  and  was  unwilling  to  have  his  hands  tied, 
or  his  face  covered,  but  was  persuaded  to  both.  When 
the  rope  was  put  upon  his  neck,  he  turned  pale,  but 
recovered  his  countenance  instantly,  and  was  but  seven 
minutes  from  leaving  the  coach  to  the  signal  given  for 
striking  the  stage.  As  the  machine  was  new,  they  were 
not  ready  at  it ;  his  toes  touched  it,  and  he  suffered  a 
little,  having  had  time,  by  their  bungling,  to  raise  his 
cap  ;  but  the  executioner  pulled  it  down  again,  and  they 
pulled  his  legs,  so  that  he  was  soon  out  of  pain,  and 
quite  dead  in  four  minutes.  He  desired  not  to  be 
stripped  and  exposed ;  and  Vaillant  promised  him, 
though  his  clothes  must  be  taken  off,  that  his  shirt 
should  not.  The  decency  ended  with  him,  the  sheriffs 
fell  to  eating  and  drinking  on  the  scaffold,  and  helped 
up  one  of  their  friends  to  drink  with  them,  as  the  body 
was  still  hanging,  which  it  did  for  above  an  hour,  and 
then  was  conveyed  back  with  the  said  pomp  to  Surgeons' 
Hall  to  be  dissected  :  there  is  a  print  of  "  Lord  Ferrers, 
as  he  lay  in  his  coffin  at  Surgeons'  Hall."  The  execu- 
tioners fought  for  the  rope,  and  the  one  who  lost  it 


Baltimore  House.  345 

cried.  The  mob  tore  off  the  black  cloth  as  relics  ; 
"  but,"  says  Walpole,  "  the  universal  crowd  behaved  with 
great  decency  and  admiration,  as  well  they  might ;  for 
sure  no  exit  was  ever  made  with  more  sensible  resolution, 
and  with  less  ostentation." 

Earl  Ferrers  had  petitioned  George  II.  that  he  might 
die  by  the  axe.  This  was  refused.  "  He  has  done," 
said  the  old  king,  "  de  deed  of  de  bad  man,  and  he  shall 
die  de  death  of  de  bad  man."  One  luxury,  however, 
Lord  Ferrers  is  reported  to  have  secured  for  the  last 
hour  of  his  life — a  silken  rope. 

The  night  before  his  death  he  made  one  of  his 
keepers  read  Hamlet  to  him,  after  he  was  in  bed  ;  he 
paid  all  his  bills  in  the  morning,  as  if  leaving  an  inn  ; 
and  half-an-hour  before  the  sheriffs  fetched  him,  corrected 
some  Latin  verses  he  had  written  in  the  Tower. 

His  violence  of  temper  and  habitual  eccentricities 
occasioned'him  to  be  set  down  as  a  madman  by  his  con- 
temporaries, and  he  is  so  held  in  the  few  historical 
records  which  name  him.  He  hated  his  poor  wife,  and 
one  of  his  modes  of  annoying  her  was  to  put  squibs  and 
crackers  into  her  bed,  which  were  contrived  to  explode 
just  as  she  was  dropping  asleep.  But  she  extricated 
herself  through  a  separation  by  Act  of  Parliament,  and 
obtained  further  atonement  in  a  more  congenial  second 
union,  many  years  after,  with  Lord  Frederic  Campbell, 
brother  to  the  Duke  of  Argyll. 

Baltimore  House. 

Tins  noble  mansion,  in  Russell  Square,  at  the  south 
corner  of  Guildford  Street,  was  built  for  Lord  Baltimore 
in  the  year  1759:  subsequent  to  the  formation  of  the 


346  Romance  of  London. 

square,  the  house  was  divided  into  two  handsome  resi- 
dences, after  standing  above  forty  years ;  the  premises 
comprising,  with  gardens,  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
east  side  of  the  site  of  the  square. 

Baltimore  House  acquired  a  celebrity,  or  rather  noto- 
riety, disgraceful  to  its  titled  owner,  by  a  criminal 
occurrence  there,  which  excited  a  considerable  sensation 
at  the  time.  Frederick,  seventh  Baron  of  Baltimore, 
who  succeeded  his  father  in  his  title  and  estates  in  1751, 
was  a  man  of  dissolute  character;  he  married  the 
daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Bridgewater,  but  his  licentious- 
ness and  infidelity  rendered  the  nuptial  life  a  scene  of 
unhappiness.  He  is  known  to  have  kept  agents  in 
various  parts  of  the  metropolis  for  the  infamous  purpose 
of  providing  him  fresh  victims  to  his  passion.  Hearing 
through  one  of  his  agents,  a  Mrs  Harvey,  in  November 
1767,  that  a  young  Quaker  milliner,  named  Sarah 
Woodcock,  keeping  shop  on  Tower  Hill,  was  remarkably 
beautiful,  Lord  Baltimore  went  there  several  times, 
under  pretence  of  purchasing  lace  ruffles  and  other 
articles.  At  length  she  was  decoyed  into  his  lordship's 
carriage  by  one  Isaacs,  a  Jew,  who  had  become  an 
accomplice  of  Mrs  Harvey  in  the  vile'  conspiracy. 
Under  pretence  of  taking  Woodcock  to  a  lady,  who 
would  give  her  orders  for  millinery,  the  carriage  was 
driven  rapidly  from  Tower  Hill,  with  the  glasses  up  ; 
and  it  being  dark,  Woodcock  was  unaware  of  its  being 
other  than  a  hackney-coach,  until  at  length  they  arrived 
in  the  court-yard  of  Baltimore  House.  Upon  alighting, 
she  was  ushered  by  Mrs  Harvey  through  a  splendid 
suite  of  rooms,  when  Lord  Baltimore  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  Woodcock  became  greatly  alarmed,  as  she 
recollected  his  calling  upon  her  at  Tower  Hill.     Under 


Baltimore  House.  347 

pretext  of  his  being  steward  to  the  lady  she  was  to  be 
introduced  to,  the  poor  milliner  became  more  composed. 
Lord  Baltimore  withdrew,  and  soon  returned  with  a  Mrs 
Griffinburgh,  whom  he  represented  as  the  lady  about  to 
order  the  goods — this  being  another  of  the  creatures  of 
Lord  Baltimore ;  she  continued,  under  various  pretences, 
to  detain  Woodcock  until  a  late  hour,  when  she  became 
importunate  to  depart. 

Keeping  up  the  semblance  of  a  steward,  Lord  Balti- 
more took  her  over  several  apartments,  and  afterwards 
insisted  upon  her  staying  to  supper;  after  which,  being 
left  alone  with  her,  he  made  advances  which  she  in- 
dignantly repelled.  Doctor  Griffinburgh,  husband  of 
the  woman  of  that  name,  with  Mrs  Harvey,  came  to 
assist  his  lordship  in  his  vile  arts  ;  but  Woodcock  still 
refused  to  consent,  forced  her  way  to  the  door,  and 
insisted  upon  going  home.  At  a  late  hour,  she  was  con- 
ducted to  a  bed-room,  where,  with  agonising  distress, 
she  continued  walking  about  till  morning,  lamenting  her 
unhappy  situation  ;  the  two  women,  Griffinburgh  and 
Harvey,  being  in  bed  in  the  same  room.  In  the  morn- 
ing, Woodcock  was  conducted  to  breakfast;  but  refused 
to  cat,  and  demanded  her  liberty,  and  wept  incessantly; 
Lord  Baltimore  meanwhile  vowing  his  excessive  love, 
and  urging  it  as  an  excuse  for  detaining  her;  and  when- 
ever she  went  towards  the  windows  of  the  house,  to 
make  her  distress  evident  to  passengers  in  the  streets, 
the  women  forced  her  away.  Lord  Baltimore  persevered 
for  some  hours,  by  turns  soothing  and  threatening  her  : 
at  length,  under  pretence  of  taking  her  to  her  father,  if 
she  would  dry  her  eyes,  and  put  on  clean  linen  (supplied 
to  her  by  Mrs  Griffinburgh),  she  was  hurried  into  a 
coach,  and    conveyed    to  Woodcote  Park,   Lord  Balti- 


348  Romance  of  London. 

more's  family  seat,  at  Epsom ;  the  Doctor  and  the  two 
infamous  women  accompanying  Woodcock,  who,  at 
Woodcote,  yielded  to  his  lordship's  wicked  arts. 

Meanwhile,  Woodcock's  friends  had  obtained  a  clue 
to  her  detention  at  Woodcote,  and,  after  a  fortnight's 
painful  anxiety  at  her  absence,  a  writ  of  Habeas  Cor- 
pus was  obtained,  and  she  was  restored  to  her  liberty. 
Lord  Baltimore  and  his  two  female  accomplices  were 
tried  at  the  assizes  at  Kingston-upon-Thames,  25th 
March  1768.  After  a  long  investigation  of  evidence,  and 
much  deliberation  by  the  jury,  Lord  Baltimore  was 
acquitted,  the  case  appearing  to  have  been  one  of  seduc- 
tion rather  than  violation,  and  the  jury  considering 
Woodcock  not  altogether  guiltless  ;  and  there  was  an 
informality  in  her  deposition,  arising  evidently  from  the 
agitation  of  her  mind. 

After  the  trial,  Lord  Baltimore,  who  was  a  man  of 
some  literary  attainments,  disposed  of  his  property,  and 
quitted  the  kingdom.  He  died  at  Naples,  in  Septem- 
ber 1771  ;  and  his  remains  being  brought  to  England, 
lay  in  state  in  one  of  the  large  rooms  of  Exeter  Change, 
and  were  then  buried  in  Epsom  Church,  with  much 
funeral  pomp ;  the  cortege  extending  from  the  church  to 
the  eastern  extremity  of  Epsom. 

After  Lord  Baltimore's  tenancy  had  expired,  this 
house  was  inhabited  by  the  Duchess  of  Bolton  ;  Wed- 
derburne,  Lord  Chancellor  Loughborough ;  Sir  John 
Nicholl,  Sir  Vicary  Gibbs,  and  by  Sir  Charles  Flower, 
Bart.  The  mansion  did  not  altogether  loose  its  noto- 
riety until  its  division  into  two  residences :  the  unity  of 
the  house  is  still  preserved  in  the  pitch  of  the  slated 
roof;  one  of  the  residences  is  named  Bolton  House,  and 
the  corner  of  Guildford  Street,  Bolton  Gardens. 


The  Minters  of  Southwark.  349 

J.  T.  Smith  tells  us  that  he  remembered,  in  1777, 
going  with  his  father  and  his  pupils  on  a  sketching 
party  to  what  was  subsequently  called  Pancras  Old 
Church  ;  and  that  Whitefield's  Chapel  in  Tottenham 
Court  Road,  Montague  House,  Bedford  House,  and 
Baltimore  House,  were  then  uninterruptedly  seen  from 
the  churchyard,  which  was  at  that  time  so  rural  that  it 
was  only  enclosed  by  a  low  and  very  old  hand-railing, 
in  some  parts  entirely  covered  with  docks  and  nettles. 
Smith  remembered  also  that  the  houses  on  the  north 
side  of  Ormond  Street  commanded  views  of  Islington, 
Highgate,  and  Hampstead  ;  including  in  the  middle 
distance  Copenhagen  House,  Mother  Redcap's,  the 
Adam  and  Eve,  the  Farthing  Pie-house,  the  Queen's 
Head  and  Artichoke,  and  the  Jew's-harp  House. 

The  Minters  of  Southwark. 

A  LARGE  portion  of  the  parish  of  St  George  the  Martyr 
is  called  the  Mint,  from  a  "mint  of  coinage"  having 
been  kept  there  by  Henry  VIII.,  upon  the  site  of  Suf- 
folk Place,  the  magnificent  seat  of  Charles  Brandon, 
Duke  of  Suffolk,  nearly  opposite  the  parish  church. 
Part  of  the  mansion  was  pulled  down  in  1557,  and  on 
the  site  were  built  many  small  cottages,  to  the  increasing 
of  the  beggars  in  the  Borough.  Long  before  the  close 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  district  called  the  Mint 
had  become  a  harbour  for  lawless  persons,  who  claimed 
there  the  privilege  of  exemption  from  all  legal  process, 
civil  or  criminal.  It  consisted  of  several  streets  and 
alleys ;  the  chief  entrance  being  from  opposite  St 
George's  Church  by  Mint  Street,  which  had,  to  our 
_time,  a  lofty  wooden  gate :  there  were  other  entrances, 


350  Romance  of  L ondon. 

each  with  a  gate ;  like  Whitefriars,  it  had  its  Lombard 
Street.  It  thus  became  early  an  asylum  for  debtors, 
coiners,  and  vagabonds;  and  of  "the  traitors,  felons, 
fugitives,  outlaws,  condemned  persons,  convict  persons, 
felons,  defamed,  those  put  in  exigent  of  outlawry,  felons 
of  themselves,  and  such  as  refused  the  law  of  the  land." 
who  had,  from  the  time  of  Edward  VI.,  herded  in  St 
George's  parish.  The  Mint  at  length  became  such  a 
pest  that  its  privileges  were  abolished  by  law  ;  but  it 
was  not  effectually  suppressed  until  the  reign  of  George 
I.,  one  of  whose  statutes  relieved  all  those  debtors  under 
£$o,  who  had  taken  sanctuary  in  the  Mint  from  their 
creditors.  The  Act  of  1695-6  had  proved  inefficient  for 
the  suppression  of  the  nuisance,  though  it  inflicted  a 
penalty  of  ^"5°°  on  anv  one  wno  should  rescue  a  pri- 
soner, and  made  the  concealment  of  the  rescuer  a  trans- 
portable offence.  In  1705,  a  fraudulent  bankrupt  fled 
here  from  his  creditors,  when  the  Mint-men  resisted  a 
large  body  of  constables,  and  a  desperate  conflict  en- 
sued at  the  gate  before  the  rogue  was  taken.  A  child 
had  been  murdered  within  these  precincts,  when  the 
coroner's  officer  was  seized  by  the  Mint-men,  thrown 
into  "  the  Black  Ditch "  of  liquid  mud ;  and,  though 
rescued  by  constables,  he  was  not  suffered  to  depart 
until  he  had  taken  an  oath  on  a  brick,  in  their  cant 
terms,  never  to  come  into  that  place  again. 

At  the  clearance  of  the  place,  in  1723,  the  exodus 
was  a  strange  scene  :  "  Some  thousands  of  the  Minters 
went  out  of  the  land  of  bondage,  alias  the  Mint,  to  be 
cleared  at  the  quarter-sessions  of  Guildford,  according 
to  the  late  Act  of  Parliament.  The  road  was  covered 
with  them,  insomuch  that  they  looked  like  one  of  the 
Jewish  tribes  going  out  of  Egypt ;  the  cavalcade  con- 


The  21 Inters  of  Southwark.  3  5 1 

sisting  of  caravans,  carts,  and  waggons,  besides  numbers 
on  horses,  asses,  and  on  foot.  The  drawer  of  the  two 
fifditincr  cocks  was  seen  to  lead  an  ass  loaded  with 
geneva,  to  support  the  spirits  of  the  ladies  upon  the 
journey.  'Tis  said  that  several  heathen  bailiffs  lay  in 
ambuscade  in  ditches  on  the  road  to  surprise  some  of 
them,  if  possible,  on  their  march,  if  they  should  straggle 
from  the  main  body ;  but  they  proceeded  with  so  much 
order  and  discipline  that  they  did  not  lose  a  man  upon 
this  expedition." 

The  Mint  was  noted  as  the  retreat  of  poor  poets. 
When  it  was  a  privileged  place,  "poor  Nahum  Tate" 
was  forced  to  seek  shelter  here  from  extreme  poverty, 
where  he  died  in  1716 :  he  had  been  ejected  from  the 
laureateship,  at  the  accession  of  George  I.,  to  make  way 
for  Rowe.     Pope  does  not  spare  the  needy  poets : — 

No  place  is  sacred,  not  the  church  is  free, 
E'en  Sunday  shines  no  Sabbath-day  to  me  : 
Then  from  the  Mint  walks  forth  the  man  of  rhyme, 
Happy  to  catch  me  just  at  dinner-time. 

Johnson  has  truly  said  :  "  The  great  topic  of  his  (Pope's) 
ridicule  is  poverty  ;  the  crimes  with  which  he  reproaches 
his  antagonists  are  their  debts,  their  habitation  in  the 
Mint,  and  their  want  of  a  dinner." 

In  Gay's  Beggars'  Opera,  one  of  the  characters 
(Trapes)  says :  "  The  Act  for  destroying  the  Mint  was 
a  severe  cut  upon  our  business.  Till  then,  if  a  customer 
stept  out  of  the  way,  we  knew  where  to  have  her."  Mat 
o'  the  Mint  is  one  of  Macheath's  gang.  This  was  also 
one  of  the  haunts  of  Jack  Sheppard  ;  and  Jonathan 
Wild  kept  his  horses  at  the  Duke's  Head,  in  Redcross 
Street,  within  the  precincts  of  the  Mint.  Marriages  were 
performed  here,  as  in  the  Fleet,  the  Savoy,  and  in  May 


352  Romance  of  L ondon. 

Fair.  In  171 5,  an  Irishman,  named  Briand,  was  fined 
£2000  for  marrying  an  orphan,  about  thirteen  years  of 
age,  whom  he  decoyed  into  the  Mint.  The  following 
curious  certificate  was  produced  at  his  trial: — "Feb.  16, 
1715.  These  are  therefore  to  whom  it  may  concern, 
that  Isaac  Briand  and  Watson  Anne  Astone  were 
joined  together  in  the  holy  state  of  matrimony  (Nemine 
contradicente)  the  day  and  year  above  written,  according 
to  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Church  of  Great 
Britain. — Witness  my  hand,  Jos.  Smith,  Cler." 

The  Mint  of  the  present  century  was  mostly  noted 
for  its  brokers'  shops,  and  its  "  lodgings  for  travellers  ;" 
and  in  one  of  the  wretched  tenements  of  its  indigent 
and  profligate  population  occurred  the  first  case  of 
Asiatic  cholera  in  1832.  Few  of  the  old  houses  re- 
main. 

Stealing  a  Dead  Body. 

THE  burial-ground  of  St  George  the  Martyr,  Queen 
Square,  Bloomsbury,  is  a  long  and  narrow  slip  of  ground 
behind  the  Foundling  Hospital,  to  which  a  remarkable 
circumstance  is  attached.  On  October  9,  1777,  the 
grave-digger  and  others  were  detected  in  the  act  of 
stealing  a  corpse  from  this  ground  for  dissection,  the 
only  instance  of  this  kind  then  ever  known,  and  which, 
in  consequence,  involved  a  difficulty  in  the  decision  of 
the  law,  from  its  being  the  first  indictment  on  record  for 
such  a  crime. 

John  Holmes,  the  grave-digger  of  St  George's, 
Robert  Williams,  his  assistant,  and  Esther  Donaldson 
were  tried  under  an  indictment  for  a  misdemeanour, 
before  Sir  John  Hawkins,  chairman,  at  Guildhall,  West- 


Stealing  a  Dead  Body.  353 

minster,  6th  December  1777,  for  stealing  the  dead  body 
of  one  Mrs  Jane  Sainsbury,  who  died  in  the  October 
preceding,  and  was  interred  in  the  burial-place  of  the 
said  parish.  Mr  Howarth,  counsel  for  the  prosecution, 
stated  the  case  to  the  jury.  Mr  Keys,  counsel  for  the 
prisoners,  objected  to  the  indictment,  and  contended 
that  if  the  offence  was  not  felony,  it  was  nothing,  for  it 
could  not  be  a  misdemeanour,  therefore  not  cognisable 
by  that  court,  or  contrary  to  any  law  whatever.  Sir  J. 
Hawkins  inquired  of  Mr  Howarth  the  reason  for  not 
indicting  for  a  felony,  as  thereby  the  court  was  armed 
with  power  to  punish  as  severely  as  such  acts  deserved. 
Mr  Howarth  explained  this,  by  saying,  that  to  constitute 
a  felony  there  must  be  a  felonious  act  of  taking  away 
property  ;  and  if  the  shroud,  or  any  other  thing,  such  as 
the  pillow,  &c,  or  any  part  of  it,  had  been  stolen,  it 
would  have  been  a  felony.  In  this  case,  he  said,  nothing 
of  that  kind  had  been  done,  the  body  only  having  been 
stolen  ;  and  though,  in  their  hurry  of  conveying  away  the 
deceased,  the  thieves  had  torn  off  the  shroud,  and  left 
pieces  in  the  churchyard,  yet  there  being  no  inten- 
tion of  taking  them  away,  it  was  no  felony,  and,  there- 
fore, only  a  misdemeanour.  Mr  Keys  again  insisted  it 
was  no  misdemeanour  ;  but  Sir  John  Hawkins  very 
ably  refuted  him,  reminding  him  that  if  his  objection 
was  good,  it  was  premature,  for  it  would  come  as  a 
motion  for  an  arrest  of  judgment.  The  trial  then  went 
on. 

Mr  Eustanston,  who  lived  near  the  Foundling  Hos- 
pital, deposed,  that  going  by  that  hospital,  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  with  some  other  gentlemen,  they 
met  the  prisoner,  Williams  with  a  sack  on  his  back, 
and  another  person  walking  with  him.     Having  some 

vol  r.  z 


354  Romance  of  London. 

suspicion  of  a  robbery,  he  stopped  Williams,  and  asked 
him  what  he  had  got  there  ?  to  which  he  replied,  "  I 
don't  know;"  but  that  pulling-  the  sack  forcibly  from 
his  back,  he  begged  to  be  let  go,  and  said  he  was  "  a 
poor  man  just  come  from  harvest."  Mr  Eustanston 
then  untied  the  sack,  and,  to  his  astonishment,  found 
the  deceased  body  of  a  woman,  her  heels  tied  up  tight 
behind  her,  her  hands  tied  together  behind,  and  cords 
round  her  neck,  forcibly  bending  her  head  almost 
between  her  legs.  They  were  so  horrified  as  to  be 
prevented  securing  the  companion  of  Williams,  but 
they  took  him  to  the  Round  House,  where  he  was  well 
known  to  be  the  assistant  grave-digger  to  Holmes,  and 
went  by  the  name  of  Bobby.  Next  day,  Holmes  being 
applied  to  as  he  was  digging  in  the  burial-ground,  de- 
nied all  knowledge  of  Bobby,  or  Williams,  or  any  such 
man.  Neither  could  he  recollect  if  any  body  had  been 
buried  within  the  last  few  days,  or  if  there  had,  he  could 
not  tell  where.  However,  by  the  appearance  of  the 
mould,  they  insisted  on  his  running  into  the  ground  his 
long  iron  crow,  and  then  they  discovered  a  coffin,  only  six 
inches  under  ground,  out  of  which  the  body  had  been 
taken.  This  coffin  had  been  buried  a  few  days  before, 
very  deep ;  the  ground  was  further  examined,  and 
another  coffin  was  discovered,  put  of  which  the  body  of 
Mrs  Jane  Sainsbury  had  been  stolen ;  and  whilst  this 
search  was  taking  place,  Holmes  was  detected  hiding  in 
his  pockets  several  small  pieces  of  shroud,  which  lay 
around  the  grave. 

Mr  Sainsbury  was  under  the  painful  necessity  of 
appearing  in  court,  when  he  identified  the  body  found 
on  Williams  as  that  of  his  deceased  wife.  Williams 
was   proved   to    have   been    constantly   employed    by 


Execution  of  Dr  Dodd.  355 

Holmes,  in  whose  house  were  found  several  sacks 
marked  H.  Ellis — the  mark  upon  the  sack  in  which 
Mrs  Sainsbury  was  tied.  The  jury  found  the  two  men 
guilty,  but  acquitted  Esther  Donaldson.  They  <vere 
sentenced  to  six  months'  imprisonment,  and  each  to  be 
severely  whipped  twice  in  the  last  week  of  their  confine- 
ment, from  Kingsgate  Street  to  Dyott  Street,  St  Giles's, 
full  half  a  mile  ;  but  the  whipping  was  afterwards  re- 
mitted. 

In  St  George's  burial-ground  the  first  person  interred 
was  Robert  Nelson,  author  of  Fasts  and  Festivals  ;  this 
was  done  to  reconcile  others  to  the  place  who  had  taken 
a  violent  prejudice  to  it.  Dr  Campbell,  author  of  the 
Lives  of  the  Admirals,  and  Jonathan  Richardson,  the 
painter,  and  his  wife,  are  buried  here ;  also,  Nancy 
Dawson,  the  famous  hornpipe  dancer,  who  died  at 
Hampstead,  May  27th,  1767  ;  the  tombstone  to  her 
memory  in  St  George's  ground  simply  states — "  Here 
lies  Nancy  Dawson." 


The  Execution  of  Dr  Dodd. 

"  THE  unfortunate  Dr  Dodd,"  as  he  is  called,  was  gifted 
with  showy  oratorical  power;  he  shone  in  London,  and 
when  a  young  man,  as  a  popular  preacher.  George  III. 
made  him  his  chaplain  in  ordinary  ;  but,  in  1774,  he 
was  indiscreet  enough  to  write  an  anonymous  letter  to 
the  wife  of  the  Chancellor  Bathurst,  offering  £2000  for 
the  nomination  to  the  rectory  of  St  George's,  Hanover 
Square.  On  the  writer  being  discovered,  George  III. 
struck  him  off  the  list  of  royal  chaplains.  In  1776,  a 
chapel  was  built  for  Dodd,  in  Charlotte  Street,  Bucking- 


356  Romance  of  London. 

ham  Gate ;  "  great  success  attended  the  undertaking," 
writes  the  Doctor  ;  ';  it  pleased  and  it  elated  me." 

Horace  Walpole  says  : — "  Dodd  was,  undoubtedly, 
a  bad  man,  who  employed  religion  to  promote  his 
ambition,  humanity  to  establish  a  character,  and  any 
means  to  gratify  his  passions  and  vanity,  and  extricate 
himself  out  of  their  distressing  consequences.  Having 
all  the  qualities  of  an  ambitious  man  but  judgment, 
he  gladly  stooped  to  rise ;  and  married  a  kept  mistress 
of  Lord  Sandwich,  and  encouraged  her  love  of  drinking 
that  he  might  be  at  liberty  in  the  evenings  to  indulge 
himself  in  other  amours.  The  Earl  of  Chesterfield, 
ignorant  of  or  indifferent  to  his  character,  committed 
his  heir  to  his  charge,  and  was  exceedingly  partial  to 
him  ;  nor  was  his  pupil's  attachment  alienated  by  the 
Doctor's  attempt  to  make  a  simoniacal  purchase  of  a 
crown-living  from  the  Lord  Chancellor.  Even  his 
miscarriage  in  that  overture  he  had  in  great  measure 
surmounted  by  varied  activity,  and  by  ostensible  virtues 
in  promoting  all  charitable  institutions,  in  particular 
that  excellent  one  for  discharging  prisoners  for  debt,  of 
which  he  is  said  to  have  been  the  founder.  Still  were 
his  pleasures  indecently  blended  with  his  affected 
devotion  ;  and  in  the  intervals  of  his  mission,  he  in- 
dulged in  the  fopperies  and  extravagance  of  a  young 
Maccaroni,  both  at  Paris  and  the  fashionable  watering- 
places  in  his  own  country.  The  contributions  of  pious 
matrons  did  not,  could  not,  keep  pace  with  the  expense 
of  his  gallantries."  In  this  state  of  things,  Dodd  com- 
mitted his  last  fatal  act.  Importuned  by  creditors,  he 
forged  a  draft  on  his  own  pupil,  Lord  Chesterfield,  for 
^4200.  He  was  instantly  detected  and  seized,  not 
having  had  the  discretion  to  secure  himself  by  flight ; 


Execution  of  Dr  Dodd.  357 

nor  did  the  Earl  discover  that  tender  sensibility  so 
natural  and  so  becoming  a  young  man.  From  that 
moment  the  Doctor's  fate  was  a  scene  of  protracted 
horrors,  and  could  but  excite  commiseration  in  every 
feeling  breast.  Yet  he  seemed  to  deserve  it,  as  he  at  once 
abandoned  himself  to  his  confusion,  shame,  and  terror, 
and  had  at  least  the  merit  of  acting  no  parade  of  forti- 
tude. He  swooned  at  his  trial,  avowed  his  guilt,  con- 
fessed his  fondness  for  life,  and  deprecated  his  fate  with 
agonies  of  grief.  Heroism  under  such  a  character  had 
been  impudence.  As  the  Earl  was  not  injured,  the  case 
happened  to  be  mitigated.  An  informality  in  the  trial 
raised  the  prisoner's  hopes  ;  and  as  the  case  was  thought 
of  weight  enough  to  be  laid  before  the  judges,  these 
hopes  were  increased ;  but  his  sufferings  were  only 
protracted,  for  the  judges  gave,  after  some  time,  an 
opinion  against  him.  Thus  he  endured  a  second 
condemnation. 

"  The  malevolence  of  men  and  their  good  nature  dis- 
played themselves  in  their  different  characters  against 
Dodd.  His  character  appeared  so  bad  to  Dr  Newton, 
Bishop  of  Bristol,  that  he  saidj  '  I  am  sorry  for  Dr 
Dodd.'  Being  asked  why,  he  replied,  '  Because  he  is  to 
be  hanged  for  the  least  crime  he  ever  committed.' 
Every  unfavourable  anecdote  of  his  life  was  published, 
and  one  in  particular  that  made  deep  impression.  The 
young  lord,  his  pupil,  had  seduced  a  girl,  and  when 
tired  of  her,  had  not  forgotten  the  sacrifice  she  had 
made.  He  sent  by  Dr  Dodd  her  dismission  and  ^"iooo. 
The  messenger  had  retained  ^900  for  his  trouble.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  fallen  apostle  did  not  lose  the 
hearts  of  his  devotees.  All  his  good  deeds  were  set 
forth  in  the  fairest  light,  and  his  labours  in  behalf  of 


3  5  8  Romance  of  L ondon. 

prisoners  were  justly  stated  in  balance  against  a  fraud 
that  had  proved  innoxious.  Warm  and  earnest  sup- 
plications for  mercy  were  addressed  to  the  throne  in 
every  daily  paper,  and  even  some  very  able  pleas  were 
printed  in  his  favour.  The  Methodists  took  up  his 
cause  with  earnest  zeal  ;  Toplady,  a  leader  of  the  sect, 
went  so  far  as  to  pray  for  him.  Such  application  raised 
the  criminal  to  the  dignity  of  a  confessor  in  the  eyes  of 
the  people — but  an  inexorable  judge  had  already  pro- 
nounced his  doom.  Lord  Mansfieldj  who  never  felt 
pity,  and  never  relented  unless  terrified,  had  indirectly 
declared  for  execution  of  the  sentence  even  before  the 
judges  had  given  their  opinion.  An  incident  that 
seemed  favourable  weighed  down  the  vigorous  scale. 
The  Common  Council  of  London  had  presented  a 
petition  of  mercy  to  the  King.  Lord  Mansfield  urged 
rigour,  and  even  the  Chancellor  seconded  it ;  though,  as 
Dr  Dodd  had  offended  him,  it  would  have  been  more 
decent  to  take  no  part,  if  not  a  lenient  one.  The  case 
of  the  Perreaus  was  cited,  and  in  one  newspaper  it 
was  barbarously  said  that  to  pardon  Dr  Dodd  would 
be  pronouncing  that  the  Perreaus  had  been  murdered. 
Still  the  Methodists  did  not  despair,  nor  were  remiss. 
They  prevailed  on  Earl  Percy  to  present  a  new  petition 
for  mercy,  which,  it  was  said,  no  fewer  than  twenty-three 
thousand  persons  had  subscribed  ;  and  such  enthusiasm 
had  been  propagated  on  behalf  of  the  wretched  divine, 
that  on  the  eve  of  his  death,  a  female  Methodist  stopped 
the  King  in  his  chair  and  poured  out  volleys  of  execra- 
tions on  his  inexorability.  A  cry  was  raised  for  Dodd's 
respite,  for  the  credit  of  the  clergy ;  but  it  was  answered 
that,  if  the  honour  of  the  clergy  was  tarnished,  it  was 
by  Dodd's  crime  and  not  by  his  punishment.     He  ap- 


Execution  of  Dt  Dodd.  359 

pealed  to  Dr  Johnson  for  his  intercession,  and  Johnson 
compassionately  drew  up  a  petition  of  Dr  Dodd  to  the 
Kinc:,  and  of  Mrs  Dodd  to  the  Oueen.  He  wrote  The 
Convict's  Address  to  his  Unhappy  Brethren,  a  sermon 
which  Dr  Dodd  delivered  in  the  chapel  of  Newgate  ; 
also,  Dr  Dodd's  Last  Solemn  Declaration,  and  other 
documents  and  letters  to  people  in  power  ;  all  without 
effect.  The  King  was  inclined  to  mercy;  but  the  law 
was  allowed  to  take  its  course;  and  on  the  27th  of  June 
1777,  Dodd  was  conveyed,  along  with  another  malefactor, 
in  an  open  cart  from  Newgate  to  Tyburn,  and  there 
hanged  in  the  presence  of  an  immense  crowd.  In  ap- 
prehension of  an  attempt  to  rescue  the  criminal,  twenty 
thousand  men  were  ordered  to  be  reviewed  in  Hyde 
Park  during  the  execution,  which,  however,  though 
attended  by  an  unequalled  concourse  of  people, 
passed  with  the  utmost  tranquillity." 

A  friend  of  George  Selwyn  (who  delighted  in  wit- 
nessing executions)  has  thus  described  the  exit : — 
"  Upon  the  whole,  the  piece  was  not  very  full  of  events. 
The  Doctor,  to  all  appearances,  was  rendered  perfectly 
stupid  from  despair.  His  hat  was  flapped  all  round, 
and  pulled  over  his  eyes,  which  were  never  directed  to 
any  object  around,  nor  ever  raised,  except  now  and 
then  lifted  up  in  the  course  of  his  prayers.  He  came  in 
a  coach,  and  a  very  heavy  shower  of  rain  fell  just  upon 
his  entering  the  cart,  and  another  just  at  his  putting 
on  his  nightcap.  During  the  shower,  an  umbrella. was 
held  over  his  head,  which  Gilly  Williams,  who  was 
present,  observed  was  quite  unnecessary,  as  the  Doctor 
was  going  to  a  place  where  he  might  be  dried. 

u  The  executioner  took  both  the  Doctor's  hat  and 


360  Romance  of  London. 

wig  off  at  the  same  time.  Why  he  put  on  his  wig 
again,  I  do  not  know,  but  he  did  ;  and  the  Doctor  took 
off  his  wig  a  second  time,  and  tied  on  a  nightcap,  which 
did  not  fit  him  ;  but  whether  he  stretched  that,  or  took 
another,  I  could  not  perceive.  He  then  put  on  his 
nightcap  himself,  and  upon  his  taking  it,  he  certainly 
had  a  smile  on  his  countenance,  and  very  soon  after- 
wards, there  was  an  end  of  all  his  hopes  and  fears  on 
this  side  the  grave.  He  never  moved  from  the  place 
he  first  took  in  the  cart ;  seemed  absorbed  in  despair, 
and  utterly  dejected  ;  without  any  other  signs  of  ani- 
mation, but  in  praying.  I  stayed  until  he  was  cut 
down,  and  put  into  the  hearse."  The  body  was  hurried 
to  the  house  of  Davies,  an  undertaker,  in  Goodge  Street, 
Tottenham  Court  Road,  where  it  was  placed  in  a  hot 
bath,  and  every  exertion  made  to  restore  life — but  in 
vain." 

Walpole  tells  us  that  the  expected  commiseration  at 
the  execution  was  much  drawn  aside  by  the  spectacle  of 
an  aged  father,  who  accompanied  his  son,  one  Harris, 
who  was  executed  for  a  robbery  at  the  same  time.  The 
streaming  tears,  grey  hairs,  agony,  and,  at  last,  the 
appearance  of  a  deadly  swoon  in  the  poor  old  man,  who 
supported  his  son  in  his  lap,  deepened  the  tragedy,  but 
rendered  Dr  Dodd's  share  in  it  less  affecting. 

It  may  be  added  that,  in  1772,  Dr  Dodd  wrote  a 
pamphlet  entitled,  The  Frequency  of  Capital  Punishments 
inconsistent  with  Justice,  Sound  Policy,  and  Religion; 
and  that  two  days  before  he  forged  the  bond  on  Lord 
Chesterfield,  he  preached  for  his  last  time,  and  his  text 
was,  "  Among  these  nations  thou  shalt  .find  no  ease, 
neither  shall  the  sole  of  thy  foot  have  rest  :  but  the 
Lord  shall  give  them  a  trembling  heart  and  failing  of 


Execution  of  Dr  Dodd.  361 

eyes,  and  sorrow  of  mind  ;  and  thy  life  shall  hang  in 
doubt  before  thee,  and  thou  shalt  fear  day  and  night, 
and  shalt  have  no  assurance  of  thy  life."  (Dr  Doran  : 
Horace  Walpole's  Last  Journals)  How  fearfully  do 
these  coincidences  with  Dr  Dodd's  fate  give  evidence 
of  the  perturbed  state  of  his  mind. 

Among  the  good  service  which  he  did  to  society,  was 
his  being  an  early  promoter  of  the  Magdalen  Hospital, 
for  whose  benefit  he  preached  a  sermon  in  1759  ;  and 
again,  in  1760,  before  Prince  Edward,  Duke  of  York: 
both  sermons  are  eloquent  compositions,  were  printed, 
and  large  editions  were  sold.  Walpole  describes  his 
going  to  the  first  Magdalen  House,  beyond  Goodman's 
Fields,  with  a  party,  in  four  coaches,  with  Prince  Ed- 
ward, to  hear  the  sermon  :  he  sketches  the  sisterhood, 
about  one  hundred  and  thirty,  all  in  greyish-brown 
stuffs,  broad  handkerchiefs,  and  fiat  straw  hats  with  a 
blue  ribbon,  pulled  quite  over  their  faces.  "  The  chapel 
was  dressed  with  orange  and  myrtle,  and  there  wanted 
nothing  but  a  little  incense  to  drive  away  the  devil  or  to 
invite  him."  After  prayers,  Dr  Dodd  preached  in  the 
French  style,  and  very  eloquently  and  touchingly.  "  He 
apostrophised  the  lost  sheep,  who  sobbed  and  cried  from 
their  souls ;  so  did  my  Lady  Hertford  and  Fanny 
Pelham,  till,  I  believe,  the  City  dames  took  them  both 
for  Jane  Shores."  Dodd  then  addressed  his  Royal 
Highness,  whom  he  called  Most  Illustrious  Prince,  be- 
seeching his  protection.  After  the  service,  the  Governor 
kissed  the  Prince's  hand,  and  then  tea  was  served  by  the 
matron  in  the  parloir.  Thence  the  company  went  to 
the  refectory,  where  the  Magdalens,  without  their  hats, 
were  at  tables,  ready  for  supper.  "  I  was  struck  and 
pleased,"  says  Walpole,  "  with  the  modesty  of  two  of 


362  Romance  of  L ondon. 

them,  who  swooned  away  with  the  confusion  of  being 
stared  at." 

The  "  Story  of  the  Unfortunate  Dr  Dodd,"  related  by 
Mr  Percy  Fitzgerald,  and  published  in  the  spring  of 
1865,  adds  a  bright  relief  in  the  person  of  the  Rev. 
Weedon  Butler,  who  was  associated  with  Dodd,  and  was 
his  amanuensis,  and  his  assistant  in  his  literary  work 
and  his  church  duty  ;  but  he  did  not  participate  in  any 
of  Dodd's  dissipation,  or  was  he  cognisant  of  his  villany. 
His  admiration  for  the  popular  author  and  fashionable 
preacher  must  have  been  very  great  even  to  the  last. 
Weedon  Butler  was  at  Dodd's  side  during  his  execution  ; 
and,  on  the  night  after,  he  carried  the  body  to  Cowley, 
there  had  it  buried,  and  inscribed  the  name  over  it ;  and 
often  afterwards  visited  the  grave. 

The  Story  of  Hackmdn  and  Miss  Reay. 

This  romantic  tale  Horace  Walpole  refers  to  as  the 
strangest  story  he  had  ever  heard  ;  "  and  which,"  adds 
he,  "  I  cannot  yet  believe,  though  it  is  certainly  true." 
The  gay  Earl  of  Sandwich,  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty 
during  Lord  North's  administration,  in  passing  through 
Covent  Garden,  espied  behind  the  counter  of  a  milliner's 
shop — No.  4,  at  the  West-end  corner  of  Tavistock 
Court,  on  the  south  side  of  Covent  Garden  Market — a 
beautiful  girl,  named  Reay :  one  account  states,  his 
Lordship  was  purchasing  some  neckcloths.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  a  labourer  at  Elstree  ;  others  state  that 
her  father  was  a  staymaker,  in  Holywell  Street,  Strand  ; 
she  had  been  apprenticed  to  a  mantuamaker  in  Clerken- 
well  Close,  with  whom  she  served  her  time  out.  A  year 
or  two  after  this,  she  was  first  seen  by  Lord  Sandwich, 


The  Story  of Hack  man  and  Miss  Rcay.  363 

who  had  her  removed  from  her  situation,  had  her 
education  completed,  rendered  her  a  proficient  in  his 
favourite  arts  of  music  and  singing,  and  then  she  became 
.his  Lordship's  mistress.  He  was  old  enough  to  be  her 
father. 

Lord  Sandwich  took  Miss  Reay  to  his  seat — Hinchin- 
brook,  in  Huntingdonshire,  and  there  introduced  her  to 
his  family  circle,  to  the  distress  of  Lady  Sandwich- 
Here  Miss  Reay  soon  distinguished  herself  in  the 
oratorios  and  other  musical  performances,  at  Hinchin- 
brook  :  her  behaviour  is  described  as  very  circumspect  ; 
she  even  captivated  a  bishop's  lady,  who  was  really 
hurt  to  sit  directly  opposite  to  her,  and  mark  her  dis- 
creet conduct,  and  yet  to  find  it  improper  to  notice  her; 
"  she  was  so  assiduous  to  please,  was  so  very  excellent, 
yet  so  assuming/'  that  the  bishop's  lady  was  quite 
charmed  with  her.  At  this  time  Captain  Hackman, 
68th  Foot,  was  recruiting  at  Huntingdon  :  he  appeared 
at  a  ball,  was  invited  to  the  oratorios  at  Hinchinbrook, 
and  was  much  caressed  there.  The  captain  was  young 
and  handsome  :  he  fell  in  love  with  Miss  Reay,  and  she 
is  understood  not  to  have  been  insensible  to  his  passion. 
Hackman  proposed  marriage  ;  but  she  told  him  she  did 
not  choose  to  carry  a  knapsack.  Another  account 
states  that  Miss  Reay  was  desirous  of  marriage,  but 
feared  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  the  man  who  had  educated 
her,  in  which  sentiment  Hackman,  with  all  his  passion, 
is  said  to  have  partaken.  Walpole  states  that  he  was 
brother  to  a  respectable  tradesman  in  Cheapside  ;  that 
he  was  articled  to  a  merchant  at  Gosport,  but,  at  nine- 
teen, entered  the  army  ;  during  his  acquaintance  with 
Miss  Reay,  he  exchanged  the  army  for  the  church, 
and  was  presented  to  the  living  of  Wyvcrton,  in  Norfolk. 


3  64  Romance  cf  L  on  don. 

Meanwhile,  Miss  Reay  had  complained  to  Mr  Cradock, 
a  friend  of  Lord  Sandwich,  of  being  alarmed  by  ballads 
that  had  been  sung,  or  cries  that  had  been  made, 
directly  under  the  windows  of  the  Admiralty,  that 
looked  into  St  James's  Park  ;  adding,  such  was  the  fury 
of  the  mob,  that  she  did  not  think  either  herself  or  Lord 
Sandwich  was  safe  whenever  they  went  out ;  the  lady 
also  represented  to  Mr  Cradock  that  her  situation  was 
precarious,  that  no  settlement  had  been  made  upon  her, 
that  she  was  anxious  to  relieve  Lord  Sandwich  of  ex- 
pense ;  that  she  had  a  good  chance  of  success  at  the 
Italian  Opera  as  a  singer,  and  that  ,£3000  and  a  free 
benefit  had  been  offered  to  her. 

A  sudden  stop  was  now  put  to  Hackman's  final  expec- 
tations, and  he  became  desperate ;  Lord  Sandwich  has 
placed  Miss  Reay  under  the  charge  of  a  duenna  ;  Hack- 
man  grew  more  jealous;  He  was  induced  to  believe  that 
Miss  Reay  had  no  longer  a  regard  for  him,  and  he  re- 
solved to  put  himself  to  death.  In  this  resolution,  a 
sudden  impulse  of  frenzy  included  the  unfortunate  object 
of  his  passion. 

On  the  evening  of  April  7,  1779,  Miss  Reay  went,  with 
her  female  attendant,  to  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  to  see 
Love  in  a  Village.  She  had  declined  to  inform  Hack- 
man  how  she  was  engaged  that  evening ;  he  appears  to 
have  suspected  her  intentions,  watched  her,  and  saw  her 
carriage  pass  by  the  Cannon  Coffee -House  (Cockspur 
Street,  Charing  Cross),  where  he  had  posted  himself. 
Hackman  followed.  The  ladies  sat  in  a  front  box,  and 
three  gentlemen,  all  connected  with  the  Admiralty,  occa- 
sionally paid  their  compliments  to  them  ;  Mr  Hackman 
was  sometimes  in  the  lobby,  sometimes  in  an  upper  side- 
box,  and  more  than  once  at  the  Bedford  Coffee-House 


The  Story  of  Hack  man  and  Miss  Rcay.  365 

to  take  brandy-and-water,  but  still  seemed  unable  to 
gain  any  information.  The  dreadful  consummation  was, 
that  at  the  door  of  the  theatre,  directly  opposite  the 
Bedford  Coffee-House,  Hackman  suddenly  rushed  out, 
and  as  a  gentleman  was  handing  Miss  Reay  into  the 
carriage,  with  a  pistol  he  first  destroyed  this  most  un- 
fortunate victim. 

Another  report  states  the  catastrophe  thus : — "  Miss 
Reay  was  coming  out  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  in 
order  to  take  her.  coach,  accompanied  by  two  friends,  a 
gentleman  and  a  lady,  between  whom  she  walked  in  the 
piazza.  Mr  Hackman  stepped  up  to  her  without  the 
smallest  menace  or  address,  put  a  pistol  to  her  head,  and 
shot  her  instantly  dead.  He  then  fired  another  at  him- 
self, which,  however,  did  not  prove  equally  effectual. 
The  ball  grazed  upon  the  upper  part  of  the  head,  but 
did  not  penetrate  sufficiently  to  produce  any  fatal  effect; 
he  fell,  however,  and  so  firmly  was  he  bent  on  the  entire 
completion  of  the  destruction  he  had  meditated,  that  he 
was  found  beating  his  head  with  the  utmost  violence  with 
the  butt-end  of  the  pistol,  by  Mr  Mahon,  apothecary,  of 
Covent  Garden,  who  wrenched  the  pistol  from  his  hand. 
He  was  carried  to  the  Shakespeare,  where  his  wound  was 
dressed.  In  his  pocket  were  found  two  letters  ;  the  one 
a  copy  of  a  letter  which  he  had  written  to  Miss  Reay. 
When  he  had  recovered  his  faculties,  he  inquired  with  great 
anxiety  concerning  Miss  Reay ;  and  being  told  she  was 
dead,  he  desired  her  poor  remains  might  not  be  exposed 
to  the  observation  of  the  curious  multitude.  About  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  Sir  John  Fielding  came  to  the 
Shakespeare,  and  not  finding  Hackman's  wounds  of 
a  dangerous  nature,  ordered  him  to  Tothill  Fields 
Bridewell.       The    body    of    Miss    Reay    was    carried 


3C/6  Romance  of  London. 

into   the    Shakespeare   Tavern    for   the    inspection    of 
the  coroner." 

Walpole  details  the  assassination  as  follows  : — "  Miss 
Reay,  it  seems,  has  been  out  of  order,  and  abroad  but 
twice  all  the  winter.  She  went  to  the  play  on  Wed- 
nesday night  for  the  second  time  with  Galli  the  singer. 
During  the  play,  the  desperate  lover  was  at  the  Bedford 
Coffee-House,  and  behaved  with  great  calmness,  and 
drank  a  glass  of  capillaire.  Towards  the  conclusion  he 
sallied  into  the  piazza,  waiting  till  he  saw  his  victim 
handed  by  Mr  Macnamara  (an  Irish  Templar,  with  whom 
Miss  R.  had  been  seen  to  coquet  during  the  perform- 
ance in  the  theatre).  He  (Hackman)  came  behind  her, 
pulled  her  by  the  gown,  and,  on  her  turning  round, 
clapped  the  pistol  to  her  forehead,  and  shot  her  through 
the  head.  With  another  pistol  he  then  attempted  to 
shoot  himself,  but  the  ball  only  grazing  his  brow,  he 
tried  to  dash  out  his  brains  with  the  pistol,  and  is  more 
wounded  by  those  blows  than  by  the  ball. 

"  Lord  Sandwich  was  at  home,  expecting  her  to 
supper,  at  half  an  hour  after  ten.  On  her  not  returning 
an  hour  later,  he  said  something  must  have  happened : 
however,  being  tired,  he  went  to  bed  half  an  hour  after 
eleven,  and  was  scarce  in  bed  before  one  of  his  servants 
came  in,  and  said  Miss  Reay  was  shot.  He  stared,  and 
could  not  comprehend  what  the  fellow  meant ;  nay,  lay 
still,  which  is  full  as  odd  a  part  of  the  story  as  any.  At 
twelve  came  a  letter  from  the  surgeon  to  confirm  the 
account.  Now,  is  not  the  story  full  as  strange  as  ever 
it  was  ?  Miss  Reay  has  six  children  ;  the  eldest  son  is 
fifteen,  and  she  was  at  least  three  times  as  much." 

Among  the  inquirers  at  the  Admiralty,  next  morning, 
was  Mr  Cradock,  who  described  the  scene  of  horror  and 


The  Story  of  Hackman  and  Miss  Rcay.  367 

distress,  as  told  him  by  old  James,  the  black.  Lord 
Sandwich  for  a  while  stood,  as  it  were,  petrified,  till,  sud- 
denly seizing  a  candle,  he  ran  up-stairs,  and  threw  himself 
on  the  bed  ;  and  in  an  agony  exclaimed,  "  Leave  me 
for  a  while  to  myself — I  could  have  borne  anything  but 
this !  "  [Walpole  states  that  his  Lordship  was  already 
in  bed.]  Mr  Cradock  doubted  whether  Lord  Sandwich 
was  aware  there  was  any  connection  between  Mr  Hack- 
man  and  Miss  Reay.  She  was  buried  in  the  church  at 
Elstree,  "  where,"  says  Leigh  Hunt,  very  prettily,  "  she 
had  been  a  lowly  and  happy  child,  running  about  with 
her  blooming  face,  and  little  thinking  what  trouble  it 
was  to  cost  her."  The  Hertfordshire  village,  some  five- 
and-forty  years  after,  was  brought  into  notice,  in  con- 
nection with  the  murder  of  Weare,  the  gambler,  whose 
body  was  thrown  into  the  pond  at  Elstree. 

Lord  Sandwich  retired  for  a  few  days  to  Richmond. 
On  his  return  to  the  Admiralty,  where  the  portrait  of 
Miss  Reay  still  hung  over  a  chimney-piece,  Mr  Cradock 
found  his  Lordship  in  ill  health  ;  he  rarely  dined  out 
anywhere,  and  any  reference  to  or  reminder  of  Miss 
Reay  greatly  embarrassed  him.  He  survived  her  twelve 
years.  She  had  borne  him  nine  children,  five  of  whom 
were  then  alive.  One  of  these  attained  to  distinction — ■ 
namely,  Mr  Basil  Montague,  the  eminent  lawyer  and 
man  of  letters,  who  died  in  1851,  in  his  eighty-second 
year. 

Hackman  was  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey  for  the  murder. 
He  confessed  at  the  bar  that  he  had  intended  to  kill 
himself,  and  protested  that  but  for  a  momentary  frenzy 
he  should  not  have  destroyed  her,  "  who  was  more  dear 
to  him  than  life."  He  was,  however,  furnished  with  two 
pistols,  which  told  against  him  on  that  point.     Boswell, 


368  Romance  of  London. 

the  biographer  of  Dr  Johnson,  was  at  the  trial,  and  tells 
us  that  the  Doctor  was  much  interested  by  the  account 
of  what  passed,  and  particularly  with  Hackman's  prayer 
for  mercy  of  heaven.  He  said  in  a  solemn,  fervent  tone, 
"  I  hope  he  shall  find  mercy."  In  talking  of  Hackman, 
Johnson  argued  as  Judge  Blackstone  had  done,  that  his 
being  furnished  with  two  pistols  was  a  proof  that  he 
meant  to  shoot  two  persons.  Mr  Beauclerk  said,  "  No  ; 
for  that  every  wise  man  who  intended  to  shoot  himself, 
took  two  pistols,  that  he  might  be  sure  of  doing  it  at 
once.     Lord  — ■— 's  cook  shot  himself  with  one  pistol, 

and  lived  ten  days  in  great  agony.     Mr ,  who  loved 

buttered  muffins,  but  durst  not  eat  them  because  they 
disagreed  with  his  stomach,  resolved  to  shoot  himself, 
and  then  he  ate  three  buttered  muffins  for  breakfast 
before  shooting  himself,  knowing  that  he  should  not  be 
troubled  with  indigestion  ;  lie  had  two  charged  pistols ; 
one  was  found  lying  charged  upon  the  table  by  him, 
after  he  had  shot  himself  with  the  other."  "  Well  (said 
Johnson,  with  an  air  of  triumph),  you  see  here  one  pistol 
was  sufficient."  Beauclerk  replied,  smartly,  "  Because  it 
happened  to  kill  him,"  It  is  impossible  to  settle  this 
point. 

Boswell  addressed  a  long  letter  to  the  St  James  s 
Chronicle  upon  this  painful  subject.  He  commences  by 
observing:  "I  am  just  come  from  attending  the  Trial 
and  Condemnation  of  the  unfortunate  Mr  Hackman, 
who  shot  Miss  Reay,  and  I  must  own  that  I  felt  an 
unusual  Depression  of  Spirits,  joined  with  that  Pause 
which  so  solemn  a  warning  of  the  dreadful  effects  that 
the  passion  of  Love  may  produce,  must  give  all  of  us 
who  have  lively  Sensations  and  Warm  Tempers."  He 
goes  on  in  a  very  apologetic  strain  : — 


The  Story  of  Hack  man  and  Miss  Rcay.  369 

"As  his  (Mr  Hackman's)  manners  were  uncommonly- 
amiable,  his  mind  and  heart  seem  to  have  been  uncom- 
monly Pure  and  Virtuous.  It  may  seem  strange  at 
first,  but  I  can  very  well  suppose  that,  had  he  been  less 
virtuous,  he  would  not  now  have  been  so  criminal.  His 
case  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  that  has  ever 
occurred  in  the  History  of  Human  Nature;  but  it  is  by 
no  means  unnatural.  The  principle  of  it  is  very  philo- 
sophically explained  and  illustrated  in  the  ' Hypocon- 
driack,'  a  periodical  paper  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  people 
of  England,  and  which  now  comes  out  monthly  in  the 
London  Magazine." 

He  then  quotes  a  passage  from  the  paper,  which  is 
too  long  to  extract.  The  paper  so  praised  Boswell 
himself  was  the  author  of. 

Walpole  says  : — "  On  his  trial,  Hackman  behaved  very 
unlike  a  madman,  and  wished  not  to  live.  He  is  to 
suffer  on  Monday,  and  I  shall  rejoice  when  it  is  over; 
for  it  is  shocking  to  reflect  that  there  is  a  human  being 
at  this  moment  in  so  deplorable  a  situation." 

Hackman  was  executed  on  April  19,  1779.  He  was 
taken  to  Tyburn  in  a  mourning-coach,  containing,  be- 
sides the  prisoner,  a  sheriff's  officer,  and  James  Boswell, 
who,  like  Selwyn,  was  fond  of  seeing  executions.  The 
latter  was  not  a  spectator  of  Hackman's  end  ;  but  his 
friend,  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  attended  the  execution,  to 
give  some  account  of  Hackman's  behaviour.  "  The  poor 
man  behaved  with  great  fortitude ;  no  appearances  of 
fear  were  to  be  perceived,  but  very  evident  signs  of 
contrition  and  repentance.  He  was  long  at  his  prayers  ; 
and  when  he  flung  down  his  handkerchief  for  the  sign 
for  the  cart  to  move  on,  Jack  Ketch,  instead  of  instantly 
whipping  on  the  horse,  jumped  on  the  other   side  of 

vol.  1.  2  A 


3/0  Romance  of  London. 

him  to  snatch  up  the  handkerchief,  lest  he  should  lose 
his  rights.  He  then  returned  to  the  head  of  the  cart, 
and  jehu'd  him  out  of  the  world." 

In  the  St  James's  Chronicle  of  April  20,  1779,  is  the 
following  fuller  account  of  the  execution: — "A  little 
after  five  yesterday  morning,  the  Rev.  Mr  Hackman 
got  up,  dressed  himself,  and  was  at  private  meditation 
till  near  seven,  when  Mr  Boswell  and  two  other  gentle- 
men waited  on  him,  and  accompanied  him  to  the  chapel, 
when  prayers  were  read  by  the  Ordinary  of  Newgate, 
after  which  he  received  the  Sacrament ;  between  eight 
and  nine  he  came  down  from  chapel  and  was  haltered. 
When  the  sheriff's  officer  took  the  cord  from  the  bag  to 
perform  his  duty,  Mr  Hackman  said,  '  Oh  !  the  sight  of 
this  shocks  me  more  than  the  thought  of  its  intended 
operation  :'  he  then  shed  a  few  tears,  and  took  leave  of 
two  gentlemen.  He  was  then  conducted  to  a  mourning- 
coach,  attended  by  Mr  Villette,  the  Ordinary  ;  Mr  Bos- 
well ;  and  Mr  Davenport,  the  Sheriff's  Officer — when 
the  procession  set  out  for  Tyburn  in  the  following 
manner — viz.,  Mr  Miller,  City  Marshal,  on  horseback, 
in  mourning,  a  number  of  sheriff's  officers  on  horseback, 
constables,  &c,  Mr  Sheriff  Kitchen,  with  his  Under- 
Sheriff,  in  his  carriage ;  the  prisoner,  with  the  afore- 
mentioned persons  in  the  mourning-coach,  officers,  &c. ; 
the  cart  hung  with  black. 

"  On  his  arrival  at  Tyburn,  Mr  Hackman  got  out  of 
the  coach,  mounted  the  cart,  and  took  an  affectionate 
leave  of  Mr  Boswell  and  the  ordinary.  When  Mr 
Hackman  got  into  the  cart  under  the  gallows,  he  imme- 
diately kneeled  down  with  his  face  towards  the  horses, 
and  prayed  some  time;  he  then  rose  and  joined  in 
prayer  with  Mr  Villettc  and  Mr  Boswell  about  a  quarter 


The  Story  of  Hackman  and  Miss  Rcay.  371 

of  an  hour,  when  he  desired  to  be  permitted  to  have  a 
few  minutes  to  himself.  The  clergymen  then  took 
leave  of  him.  His  request  being  granted,  he  informed 
the  executioner  when  he  was  prepared  he  would  drop 
his  handkerchief  as  a  signal ;  accordingly,  after  praying 
about  six  or  seven  minutes  to  himself,  he  dropped  his 
handkerchief,  and  the  cart  drew  from  under  him." 

A  curious  book  arose  out  of  this  tragical  story.  In 
the  following  year  was  published  an  octavo,  pretending 
to  contain  the  correspondence  of  Hackman  and  Miss 
Reay.  The  work  was  entitled,  Love  and  Madness,  or 
Story  too  true,  in  a  Series  of  Letters  between  parties 
whose  names  would,  perhaps,  be  mentioned,  were  they  less 
known  or  less  lamented.  London,  1780.  The  book  ran 
through  several  editions.  The  author  was  Sir  Herbert 
Croft,  Bart.  Walpole  says  of  it :  "I  doubt  whether  the 
letters  are  genuine ;  and  yet,  if  fictitious,  they  are  exe- 
cuted well,  and  enter  into  his  character ;  hers  appear 
less  natural,  and  yet  the  editors  were  certainly  more 
likely  to  be  in  possession  of  hers  than  his.  It  is  not 
probable  that  Lord  Sandwich  should  have  sent  what  he 
found  in  her  apartments  to  the  press.  No  account  is 
pretended  to  be  given  of  how  they  came  to  light." 
Walpole  is  frequently  mentioned  in  a  long  letter  by 
Hackman,  pretending  that  Miss  Reay  desired  him  to 
give  her  a  particular  account  of  Chatterton  ;  he  gives 
a  most  ample  one,  but  it  is  not  probable  that  he  went 
to  Bristol  to  collect  the  evidence. 


3 7 2  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

Attempts  to  Assassinate  George  III. 

Two  desperate  attempts  were  made  upon  the  life  of 
George  III.,  in  addition  to  attacks  by  the  populace 
and  by  individuals. 

On  the  morning  of  August  2,  1786,  as  the  King  was 
stepping  out  of  his  post-chariot,  at  the  garden  entrance 
of  St  James's  Palace,  a  woman,  who  was  waiting  there, 
pushed  forward,  and  presented  a  paper,  which  his 
Majesty  received  with  great  condescension.  At  that 
instant,  she  struck  a  concealed  knife  at  the  Kine's 
breast,  which  his  Majesty  happily  avoided  by  bowing 
as  he  received  the  paper.  As  she  was  making  a  second 
thrust,  one  of  the  yeomen  caught  her  arm,  and,  at  the 
same  instant,  one  of  the  King's-  footmen  wrenched  the 
knife  out  of  the  woman's  hand.  The  King,  with  amaz- 
ing temper  and  fortitude,  exclaimed  at  the  instant,  "  I 
have  received  no  injury;  do  not  hurt  the  woman,  the 
poor  creature  appears  insane."  This  account  is  given 
by  Mrs  Delany,  in  her  Letters,  who  adds,  "  His  Majesty 
was  perfectly  correct  in  his  humane  supposition.  The 
woman  underwent  a  long  examination  before  the  Privy 
Council,  who  finally  declared  that  they  were  '  clearly 
and  unanimously  of  opinion,  that  she  was,  and  is,  in- 
sane.' The  instrument  struck  against  the  King's  waist- 
coat, and  made  a  cut,  the  breadth  of  the  point,  through 
the  cloth.  Had  not  the  King  shrunk  in  his  side,  the 
blow  would  have  been  fatal.  Margaret  Nicholson  was 
committed  to  Bethlehem  Hospital  as  a  criminal  lunatic, 
and  was  removed  with  the  other  inmates  from  the  old 
hospital  in  Moorfields  to  the  new  hospital  in  Lambeth, 
where  she, died  May  14,  1828,  in  her  ninety-ninth  year, 
having  been  confined  in  Bethlehem  forty-two  years." 


Attempts  to  Assassinate  George  III.  373 

The  second  attempt  of  this  diabolical  nature  was 
made  by  James  Hadfield,  in  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  on 
the  night  of  May  15,  1800.  In  the  morning,  the  King 
had  been  present  at  a  field-day  in  Hyde  Park,  when, 
during  the  exercise,  a  shot  wounded  a  young  gentleman 
who  stood  near  his  Majesty.  The  event,  which  hap- 
pened in  the  evening,  added  very  much  to  the  anxiety 
that  had  been  felt  from  what  had  occurred  in  the 
morning.  Their  Majesties  having  announced  their 
intention  of  going  to  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  the  house 
was  extremely  crowded.  The  Princesses  first  came 
into  their  box,  as  usual,  the  Queen  next,  and  then  the 
King.  The  audience  had  risen  to  receive  and  greet 
the  royal  family  by  clapping  of  hands,  and  other  testi- 
monies of  a  flection,  when  at  the  instant  his  Majesty 
entered,  and  was  advancing  to  bow  to  the  audience,  a 
man,  who  had  placed  himself  about  the  middle  of  the 
second  front  row  of  the  pit,  raised  his  arm  and  fired  a 
pistol,  which  was  levelled  towards  the  box.  The  flash 
and  the  report  caused  an  instant  alarm  through  the 
house  ;  after  an  awful  suspense  of  a  few  moments,  the 
audience,  pe'reeiving  his  Majesty  unhurt,  a  burst  of 
most  enthusiastic  joy  succeeded,  with  loud  exclamations 
of  "Seize  the  villain!  "  "Shut  the  doors  !  "  The  curtain 
was  by  this  time  drawn  up,  and  the  stage  was  crowded 
by  persons  of  all  descriptions  from  behind  the  scenes. 
A  gentleman  who  stood  next  the  assassin  immediately 
collared  him,  and,  after  some  struggling,  he  was  con- 
veyed over  into  the  orchestra,  where  the  pistol  was 
wrenched  from  him,  and  delivered  to  one  of  the  per- 
formers on  the  stage,  who  held  it  up  to  public  view. 
There  was  a  general  cry  of  "  Show  the  villain  !  "  who  by 
this  time  was  conveyed  into  the  music-room,  and  given  in 


374  Romance  of  London. 

charge  of  the  Bow  Street  officers.  The  cry  still  con- 
tinuing to  seize  him,  Mr  Kelly,  the  stage  manager,  came 
forward  to  assure  the  audience  that  he  was  safe  in 
custody.  The  band  then  struck  up  "  God  save  the 
King,"  in  which  they  were  cordially  joined,  in  full 
chorus,  by  every  person  in  the  theatre,  the  ladies  waving 
their  handkerchiefs  and  huzzaing.  Never  was  loyalty 
more  affectionately  displayed.  Mr  Sheridan,  ever  in 
attendance  when  the  King  visited  the  theatre,  the 
moment  the  alarm  was  given,  stepped  into  the  green- 
room, and  with  that  readiness  of  resource  which  rarely 
forsook  him,  in  a  few  minutes  wrote  the  following 
additional  stanza,  which  was  sung  : — 

From  every  latent  foe, 
From  the  assassin's  blow, 

Thy  succour  bring; 
O'er  him  Thine  arm  extend, 
From  every  ill  defend, 
Our  Father,  King,  and  Friend  ; 

God  save  the  King  ! 

This  extempore  verse,  inferred  by  the  audience  at 
once  to  have  been  written  by  Sheridan,  was  particularly 
gratifying  to  their  feelings,  and  drew  forth  bursts  of 
the  loudest  and  most  impassioned  applause. 

His  Majesty,  who  at  the  first  moment  of  alarm  had 
displayed  serenity  and  firmness,  was  now  evidently 
affected  by  the  passing  scene,  and  seemed  for  a  moment 
dejected.  The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  York,  who  were 
in  their  private  box  below,  hastened  to  the  King,  who 
was  eagerly  surrounded  by  his  family. 

After  the  Duke  of  York  had  conversed  for  a  few 
moments  with  the  King,  His  Royal  Highness  and  Mr 
Sheridan  went  into  the  music-room,  where  the  traitor 
was  secured.     Being  interrogated,  he  said  his  name  was 


Attempts  to  Assassinate  George  III.  375 

•  Hadfield,  and  it  appears  he  formerly  belonged  to  the 
15th  Light  Dragoons,  and  served  under  the  Duke  of 
York  in  Flanders,  where  he  was  made  prisoner.  He 
was  much  scarred  in  the  forehead,  of  low  stature,  and 
was  dressed  in  a  common  surtout,  with  a  soldier's  jacket 
underneath. 

In  the  music-room  he  appeared  extremely  collected, 
and  confessed  that  he  had  put  two  slugs  into  the  pistol. 
He  said  he  was  weary  of  life.  Sir  William  Addington 
then  came  in,  and  at  his  request  no  further  interrogations 
were  made,  and  the  man  was  conveyed  to  the  prison  in 
Coldbath  Fields,  where,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Dukes  of  York,  Clarence,  and 
Cumberland  went  to  see  him. 

As  soon  as  the  event  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
ministers,  a  Privy  Council  was  summoned,  and  at  ten 
o'clock  the  traitor  was  carried  to  the  Secretary  of  State's 
office,  where  the  Cabinet  ministers  and  principal  law 
officers  were  assembled,  and  he  continued  under  exa- 
mination for  some  time. 

Hadfield  was  brought  to  trial  on  June  26  following, 
and  after  an  investigation  of  eight  hours,  a  verdict  of 
"  Not  Guilty  "  was  returned.  He  was  then  remanded 
for  safe  custody  to  Newgate,  and  ultimately  being 
proved  of  insane  mind,  he  was  committed  to  Bethlehem. 
Mr  N.  P.  Willis,  when  he  visited  the  new  hospital  in 
1840,  conversed  with  Hadfield,  whom  he  describes  as 
quite  sane,  after  having  been  in  Bedlam  for  forty  years. 
"  He  was  a  gallant  dragoon,  and  his  face,"  says  Mr 
Willis,  "  is  seamed  with  scars,  got  in  battle  before  his 
crime.  He  employs  himself  with  writing  poetry  on  the 
death  of  his  birds  and  cats,  whom  he  has  outlived  in 
prison,  and  all  the  society  he  had  in  his  long  and  weary 


376  Romance  of  London, 

imprisonment.  He  received  us  very  courteously,  and 
called  our  attention  to  his  favourite  canary,  showed  us 
his  poetry,  and  all  with  a  sad,  mild,  subdued  resigna- 
tion that  quite  moved  me."  Hadfield  died  in  the  year 
after  Mr  Willis's  visit. 


Trial  and  Execution  of  Governor  Wall. 

EARLY  in  the  year  1802,  great  interest  was  excited  by 
the  trial  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Wall,  who  was  charged 
with  murder  committed  twenty  years  before.  It  was 
while  Governor  and  Commandant  of  Goree,  an  island 
on  the  coast  of  Africa,  that  Wall  committed  the  offence 
which  brought  him  to  the  scaffold — viz.,  the  murder  of 
one  Benjamin  Armstrong,  by  ordering  him  to  receive 
eight  hundred  lashes  on  the  iothjuly  1782,  of  which  he 
died  in  five  days  afterwards. 

"  Some  time  after  the  account  of  the  murder  of  Arm« 
strong  reached  the  Board  of  Admiralty,  a  reward  was 
offered  for  the  apprehension  of  Wall,  who  had  come  to 
England,  and  he  was  taken.  He,  however,  contrived 
to  escape  while  in  custody  at  Reading,  and  fled  to  the 
Continent  :  he  sojourned  there,  in  France  and  some- 
times in  Italy,  under  an  assumed  name,  where  he  lived 
respectably,  and  was  admitted  into  good  society.  He 
particularly  associated  with  the  officers  of  his  own 
country  who  served  in  the  French  army,  and  was  well 
known  at  the  Scotch  and  Irish  colleges  in  Paris.  He 
now  and  then  incautiously  ventured  into  England  and 
Scotland.  While  thus,  at  one  time,  in  Scotland  he 
made  a  high  match.  He  wedded  a  scion  of  the  great 
line  of  Kintail — viz.,  Frances,  fifth  daughter  (by  his  wife, 
Lady  Mary  Stewart,  daughter  of  Alexander,  sixth  Earl 


Trial  and  Execution  of  Governor  Wall.  377 

of  Galloway)  of  Kenneth  Mackenzie,  Lord  Fortrose, 
M.P.,  and  sister  of  Kenneth,  last  Earl  of  Seaforth.  Wall 
came  finally  to  England  in  1797.  He  was  frequently 
advised  by  the  friend  who  then  procured  him  a  lodging  to 
leave  the  country  again,  and  questioned  as  to  his  motive 
for  remaining ;  he  never  gave  any  satisfactory  answer, 
but  appeared,  even  at  the  time  when  he  was  so  studi- 
ously concealing  himself,  to  have  a  distant  intention 
of  making  a  surrender,  in  order  to  take  his  trial. 

"  His  high-born  wife  showed  him  throughout  his 
troubles  the  greatest  devotion  :  she  was  with  him  in 
Upper  Thornhaugh  Street,  Bedford  Square,  where  he 
lived  under  the  name  of  Thompson  when  he  was  appre- 
hended. It  is  most  probable  that,  had  he  not  written  to 
the  Secretary  of  State,  saying  he  was  ready  to  surrender 
himself,  the  matter  had  been  so  long  forgotten,  that  he 
would  never  have  been  molested  ;  but  once  he  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  law,  the  Government  had  but  one 
obvious  course,  which  was  to  bring  him  to  trial ;  which 
was  accordingly  done,  at  the  Old  Bailey,  on  the  20th 
January  1802.  The  main  point  of  Wall's  defence  was 
Armstrong's  being  concerned  in  a  mutiny,  which,  how- 
ever, was  not  alluded  to  in  a  letter  from  Wall  to 
Government,  on  his  return  from  Goree.  He  was  found 
guilty,  and  condemned  to  be  executed  on  the  following 
morning.  A  respite  was  sent,  deferring  his  execution 
until  the  25th.  On  the  24th  he  was  further  respited  till 
the  28th.  His  wife  lived  with  him  for  the  last  fortnight 
prior  to  his  conviction.  During  his  confinement  he 
never  went  out  of  his  room,  except  into  the  lobby  to 
consult  his  counsel.  He  lived  well,  and  was  sometimes 
in  good  spirits.  lie  was  easy  in  his  manners  and  plea- 
sant in  conversation  ;  but  during  the  night  he  frequently 


378  Romance  of  London. 

sat  up  in  his  bed  and  sung  psalms,  being  overheard  by 
his  fellow-prisoners. 

"  From  the  time  of  the  first  respite  until  twelve 
o'clock  on  the  nigmt  before  his  execution,  Wall  did  not 
cease  to  entertain  hopes  of  his  safety.  The  interest 
made  to  save  him  was  very  great.  The  whole  of  the 
day  previous  occupied  the  great  law  officers  ;  the  Judges 
met  at  the  Lord  Chancellor's  in  the  afternoon.  The 
conference  lasted  upwards  of  three  hours,  but  ended 
unfavourably  to  Wall.  The  prisoner  had  an  affecting 
interview  with  his  wife,  the  Hon.  Mrs  Wall,  the  night 
before  his  death,  from  whom  he  was  painfully  separated 
about  eleven  o'clock. 

"  When  the  morning  arrived,  Wall  ascended  the  scaf- 
fold, accompanied  by  the  Rev.  Ordinary ;  there  arose 
three  successive  shouts  from  an  innumerable  populace, 
the  brutal  but  determined  effusion  of  one  common 
sentiment,  for  the  public  indignation  had  never  been  so 
high  since  the  hanging  of  Mrs  Brownrigg,  who  had 
whipped  her  apprentices  to  death."  * 

John  Thomas  Smith,  the  well-known  artist,  who  had 
made  for  the  Duke  of  Roxburgh,  the  famous  biblioma- 
niac, many  drawings  of  malefactors,  was  commissioned 
by  the  Duke  to  add  to  the  collection  a  portrait  of 
Governor  Wall.  Smith  had  missed  the  trial  at  the  Old 
Bailey  ;  and  the  Duke  failed  to  secure  an  order  for  the 
artist  to  se'e  the  criminal  in  the  condemned  cell.  How- 
ever, Smith,  by  an  introduction  to  Dr  Ford,  the  Ordinary 
of  Newgate,  succeeded  in  his  wishes.  He  found  the 
Doctor  in  the  club-room  of  a  public-house  in  Hat  ton 
Garden,  pompously  seated  in   a  superb  masonic  chair, 

*  Celebrated  Trials  connected  with  the  Army  and  Navy.  By  Teler 
Burke,  Sergeant-at-Law.     1 865. 


Trial  and  Execution  of  Governor  Wall.         379 

under  a  crimson  canopy, — smoking  his  pipe  !  The 
introduction  over,  and  its  object  explained,  the  Doctor 
whispered  (the  room  was  crowded  with  company), 
"  Meet  me  at  the  felons'  door  at  the  break  of  day."  There 
Smith  punctually  applied  ;  but,  notwithstanding  the 
order  of  the  Doctor,  he  found  it  necessary,  to  protect 
himself  from  an  increasing  mob,  to  give  half-a-crown  to 
the  turnkey,  who  let  him  in.  He  was  then  introduced 
to  a  most  diabolical-looking  little  wretch,  designated 
"  the  Yeoman  of  the  Halter,"  Jack  Ketch's  head-man. 
Doctor  Ford  soon  arrived  in  his  canonicals,  with  an 
enormous  nosegay  under  his  arm,  and  gravely  uttered, 
"  Come  this  way,  Mr  Smith,"  who  thus  describes  the 
scene  he  witnessed  : — 

"  As  we  crossed  the  press-yard,  a  cock  crew  ;  and  the 
solitary  clanking  of  a  restless  chain  was  dreadfully 
horrible.  The  prisoner  had  not  risen.  Upon  our  enter- 
ing a  stone-cold  room,  a  most  sickly  stench  of  green 
twigs,  with  which  an  old,  round-shouldered,  goggle-eyed 
man  was  endeavouring  to  kindle  a  fire,  annoyed  me 
almost  as  much  as  the  canaster  fumigation  of  the 
Doctor's  Hatton  Garden  friends. 

"  The  prisoner  entered.  He  was  death's  counterfeit, 
tall,  shrivelled,  and  pale  ;  and  his  soul  shot  so  piercingly 
through  t]ie  port-holes  of  his  head,  that  the  first  glance 
of  him  nearly  petrified  me.  I  said  in  my  heart,  putting 
my  pencil  in  my  pocket,  '  God  forbid  that  I  should 
disturb  thy  last  moments.'  His  hands  were  clasped,  and 
he  was  truly  penitent.  After  the  yeoman  had  requested 
him  to  stand  up,  '  he  pinioned  him,'  as  the  Newgate 
phrase  is,  and  tied  the  cord  with  so  little  feeling,  that 
the  Governor,  who  had  not  given  the  wretch  the  accus- 
tomed fee,  observed,  '  You  have  tied   me  very  tight ; ' 


380  Romance  of  London. 

upon  which  Dr  Ford  ordered  him  to  slacken  the  cord, 
which  he  did,  but  not  without  muttering.  '  Thank  you, 
sir,'  said  the  Governor  to  the  Doctor,  '  it  is  of  little 
moment.'  He  then  observed  to  the  attendant,  who  had 
brought  in  an  immense  shovelful  of  coals  to  throw  on 
the  fire,  'Ay,  in  one  hour  that  will  be  a  blazing  fire  ;' 
then,  turning  to  the  Doctor,  questioned  him,  '  Do  tell 
me,  sir — I  am  informed  I  shall  go  down  with  great 
force ;  is  it  so  ? '  After  the  construction  and  action 
of  the  machine  had  been  explained,  the  Doctor  ques- 
tioned the  Governor  as  to  what  kind  of  men  he  had 
at  Goree.  '  Sir,'  he  answered,  '  they  sent  me  the  very 
riffraff.'  The  poor  soul  then  joined  the  Doctor  in  prayer  ; 
and  never  did  I  witness  more  contrition  at  a  condemned 
sermon  than  he  then  evinced. 

"  The  Sheriff  arrived,  attended  by  his  officers,  to 
receive  the  prisoner  from  the  keeper.  A  new  hat  was 
then  partly  flattened  on  his  head,  for,  owing  to  its  being 
too  small  in  the  crown,  it  stood  many  inches  too  high 
behind.  As  we  were  crossing  the  press-yard,  the  dread- 
ful execration  of  some  of  the  fellows  so  shook  his  frame, 
that  he  observed,  'the  clock  had  struck,'  and,  quicken- 
ing his  pace,  he  soon  arrived  at  the  room  where  the 
Sheriff  was  to  give  a  receipt  for  his  body,  according  to 
the  usual  custom.  Owing,  however,  to  some  informality 
in  the  wording  of  this  receipt,  he  was  not  brought  out  so 
soon  as  the  multitude  expected  ;  and  it  was  this  delay 
which  occasioned  a  partial  exultation  from  those  who 
betted  as  to  a  reprieve,  and  not  from  any  pleasure  in 
seeing  him  executed. 

"  After  the  execution,  as  soon  as  I  was  permitted  to 
leave  the  prison,  I  found  the  yeoman  selling  the  rope 
with  which  the  malefactor  had  been  suspended  at  a 


Trial  and  Execution  of  Governor  Wall.  3S 1 

shilling  an  inch  ;  and  no  sooner  had  I  entered  Newgate 
Street,  than  a  lath  of  a  fellow,  past  threescore  years 
and  ten,  and  who  had  just  arrived  from  the  purlieus  of 
Black  Boy  Alley,  exclaimed  :  '  Here's  the  identical  rope 
at  sixpence  an  inch.'  A  group  of  tatterdemalions  soon 
collected  round  him,  most  vehemently  expressing  their 
eagerness  to  possess  bits  of  the  cord.  It  was  pretty 
obvious,  however,  that  the  real  business  of  this  agent  was 
to  induce  the  Epping  buttermen  to  squeeze  in  their 
canvas  bags,  which  contained  the  morning  receipts  in 
Newgate  Market.  A  little  further  on,  at  the  north-east 
corner  of  Warwick  Lane,  stood  Rosy  Emma,  exuberant 
in  talk  and  piping-hot  from  Pie  Corner,  where  she  had 
taken  in  her  morning  dose  of  gin  and  bitters.  Her 
cheeks  were  purple,  her  nose  of  poppy-red,  or  cochineal. 
Her  eyes  reminded  me  of  Sheridan's  remark  on  those 
of  Dr  Arne, '  like  two  oysters  on  an  oval  plate  of  stewed 
beetroot.'  Emma,  in  her  tender  blossom,  I  understand 
assisted  her  mother  in  selling  rice-milk  and  furmety  to 
the  early  frequenters  of  Honey  Lane  Market ;  and  in 
the  days  of  her  full  bloom,  new-milk  whey  in  White 
Conduit  Fields,  and  at  the  Elephant  and  Castle.  Rosy 
Emma — for  so  she  was  still  called — was  the  reputed 
spouse  of  the  Yeoman  of  the  Halter,  and  the  cord  she 
was  selling  as  the  identical  noose,  was  for  her  own 
benefit — 

For  honest  ends,  a  most  dishonest  seeming. 

Now,  as  fame  and  beauty  ever  carry  influence,  Emma's 
sale  was  rapid.  This  money-trapping  trick,  steady 
John,  the  waiter  at  the  Chapter  Coffee-House,  assured 
me,  was  invariably  put  into  practice  whenever  superior 
persons  or  notorious  culprits  had  been  executed.  Then 
to  breakfast,  but  with  little  or  no  appetite.     However, 


3 8 2  Romance  of  London. 

I  made  a  whole-length  portrait  of  the  Governor,  by 
recollection,  which  Dr  Buchan,  the  flying  physician  of 
the  Chapter  frequenters,  and  several  of  the  Paternoster 
vendors  of  his  Domestic  Medicine,  considered  a  likeness  ; 
at  all  events,  it  was  admitted  into  the  portfolio  of  the 
Duke  of  Roxburgh,  with  the  following  acknowledg- 
ment written  on  the  back  : — '  Drawn  by  Memory.'  "  * 

After  hanging  a  full  hour,  Wall's  body  was  cut  down, 
put  into  a  cart,  and  immediately  conveyed  to  a  building 
in  Cowcross  Street  to  be  dissected.  Wall  was  dressed 
in  a  mixed-coloured  loose  coat,  with  a  black  collar, 
swan-down  waistcoat,  blue  pantaloons,  and  white  silk 
stockings.  He  appeared  a  miserable  and  emaciated 
object,  never  having  quitted  the  bed  of  his  cell  from  the 
day  of  condemnation  till  the  morning  of  his  execution. 

The  body  of  the  wretched  Governor  was  not  exposed 
to  public  view  as  usual  in  such  cases.  Mr  Belfour, 
Secretary  to  the  Surgeons'  Company,  applied  to  Lord 
Kenyon,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench,  to  know  whether  such  exposure  was  necessary ; 
and  finding  that  the  forms  of  dissection  only  were 
required,  the  body,  after  those  forms  had  passed,  was 
consigned  to  the  relations  of  the  unhappy  man  upon 
their  paying  fifty  guineas  to  the  Philanthropic  Society. 
The  remains  were  interred  in  the  churchyard  of  St 
Pancras-in-the-Fields. 

Case  of  Eliza  Penning)  tJie  Suspected 

Poisoner. 

MANY  are    the   cases   in   our  criminal    history  of  the 

extreme    danger   of  convicting  for  capital  offences    on- 

*  A  Book  for  a  Rainy  Day.     By  J.  T.  Smith.    Third  Edition.     1861. 


Case  of  Eliza  Feinting.  3  S3 

presumptive  or  circumstantial  evidence  alone  ;  but  in  no 
instance,  within  memory  of  the  present  generation,  was 
the  public  sympathy  more  intensely,  and,  as  since 
proved,  more  justly,  excited  than  in  the  following  case  : 
— Elizabeth  (Eliza)  Fcnning,  cook  in  the  family  of  Mr 
Olibar  Turner,  law  stationer,  of  Chancery  Lane,  was 
tried  on  April  11,  1815,  at  the  Old  Bailey,  before  the 
Recorder,  "that  she,  on  the  21st  day  of  March,  felo- 
niously and  unlawfully  did  administer  to,  and  cause  to 
be  administered  to,  Olibar  Turner,  Robert  Gregson 
Turner,  and  Charlotte  Turner,  his  wife,  certain  deadly 
poisons  (to  wit,  arsenic),  with  intent  the  said  persons  to 
kill  and  murder."  There  were  other  counts,  varying  the 
offence.  Mr  Gurney  conducted  the  prosecution.  The 
poison,  it  was  stated,  had  been  mixed  in  some  yeast 
dumplings,  of  which  the  family,  as  also  Eliza  Fenning, 
had  freely  partaken  at  dinner.  Although  violent  sick- 
ness and  excruciating  pain  was  the  result,  in  no  case, 
fortunately,  did  death  ensue.  Of  those  who  suffered 
the  most  was  Eliza  Fenning.  Medical  evidence  proved 
that  arsenic  was  mixed  with  the  dough  from  which  the 
dumplings  had  been  made.  No  counsel  in  criminal 
cases  being  then  permitted  to  address  the  jury  on  behalf 
of  the  prisoner  (except  on  points  of  law),  poor  Eliza 
Fenning  could  only  assert  her  innocence,  saying — "  I  am 
truly  innocent  of  the  whole  charge  ;  indeed  I  am !  I 
liked  my  place  ;  I  was  very  comfortable."  The  jury  in 
a  few  minutes  returned  a  verdict  of  Guilty,  and  the 
Recorder  immediately  passed  sentence  of  death. 

Had  it  not  been  for  this  calamitous  event,  in  a  very 
few  days  Eliza  Fenning  would  have  been  married  to 
one  in  her  own  position  of  life.  Her  bridal  dress  was 
prepared ;  with  girlish   pride  she  had  worked  a  little 


3 S4  Romance  of  London. 

muslin  cap,  which  she  proposed  wearing  on  that  joyous 
occasion.  In  this  bridal  dress,  and  little  muslin  cap, 
on  the  morning  of  the  25th  of  July  she  followed  the 
Ordinary  of  Newgate  through  the  gloomy  passages  of 
the  prison  to  the  platform  of  death.  Here  again  she 
firmly  denied  her  guilt ;  and  with  the  words  on  her 
lips,  "  I  am  innocent !  "  her  soul  passed  into  eternity. 

We  quote  these  details  from  Mr  J.  Holbert  Wilson's 
privately-printed  Catalogue :  it  is  added,  from  a  com- 
munication made  to  this  gentleman  by  one  acquainted 
with  Mr  Fenning's  family :  "  If  my  information  be  cor- 
rect, Eliza  Fenning  was  as  guiltless  of  the  crime  for 
which  she  suffered  as  any  reader  of  this  note  ;  but  some 
years  elapsed  before  the  proof  of  it  was  afforded.  At 
length,  however,  Truth,  the  daughter  of  Time,  unveiled 
the  mystery.  On  a  bed,  in  a  mean  dwelling  at  Chelms- 
ford, in  Essex,  lay  a  man  in  the  throes  of  death,  his 
strong  frame  convulsed  with  inward  agony.  To  those 
surrounding  that  bed/  and  watching  his  fearful  exit 
from  the  world,  he  disclosed  that  he  was  the  nephew  of 
a  Mr  Turner,  of  Chancery  Lane ;  that  many  years  since, 
irritated  with  his  uncle  and  aunt,  with  whom  he  resided, 
for  not  supplying  him  with  money,  he  availed  himself 
of  the  absence  for  a  few  minutes  of  the  servant-maid 
from  the  kitchen,  stepped  into  it,  and  deposited  a 
quantity  of  powdered  arsenic  on  some  dough  he  found 
mixed  in  a  pan.  Eliza  Fenning,  he  added,  was  wholly 
ignorant  of  these  facts.  He  made  no  further  sign,  but 
like  the  rich  man  in  the  Testament,  '  he  died  and  was 
buried.'  I  will  not  presume  to  carry  the  parallel 
further." 

Mr  Hone  published  a  narrative  of  the  above  case, 
with  a  portrait  of  the  poor  girl ;  this  vvas  replied  to,  and 


Wainwrighti  the  Poisoner.  385 

there  was  much  contention  upon  the  matter.  The 
medical  man  who  had  given  evidence  on  the  trial  suf- 
fered  considerably  in  his  practice.  She  was  the  last 
person  condemned  by  Sir  John  Sylvester,  Recorder. 

It  appears  that  the  circumstance  which  gave  colour 
to  the  case  against  the  accused  was,  that  she  had  often 
pressed  her  mistress  to  let  her  make  some  yeast  dum- 
plings, at  which  she  stated  herself  to  be  a  famous  hand. 
On  the  2 1st  of  March  the  brewer  left  some  yeast,  and, 
instead  of  getting  the  dough  from  the  baker's  the 
accused  made  it  herself* 


Wainwright \  the  Poisoner. 

The  system  of  defrauding  insurance  societies  seems 
first  to  have  manifested  itself  in  the  fraudulent  destruc- 
tion of  ships,  with  their  cargoes,  or  warehouses  with 
their  contents.  Cases  such  as  these  are  found  often 
enough  to  have  occupied  the  attention  of  our  criminal 
lawyers  towards  the  close  of  the  last  century.  They 
were  trivial,  indeed,  compared  with  the  desperate 
lengths  and  deadly  depths  to  which  in  a  few  short 
years  this  new  form  of  crime  extended  itself.  For- 
merly, we  believe,  in  every  office,  all  the  benefits  of 
insurance  were  forfeited  in  case  of  fraud,  death  by 
suicide,  duelling,  or  the  hands  of  the  executioner. 
Gradually,  but  not  wisely,  most  of  these  provisos  for 
non-payment  were  abandoned,  and  soon  we  hear  of 
various  endeavours  to  deceive  and  defraud.  Lives 
notoriously  unsafe  were  insured.  Suicides,  that  the 
premium  might  descend  to  the  family,  strange  as  it  is, 
have  more  than  once  been  known  to  occur ;  and  at  last, 

*  Abridged  from  Walks  and  Talks  about  London. 
VOL.  I.  2  B 


3S6  Romance  of  London. 

between  the  years  1S30  and  1835,  the  various  metro- 
politan offices  began  to  realise  the  alarming  extent  to 
which  they  were  open  to  the  machinations  of  clever, 
but  unprincipled  and  designing,  men  and  women. 

The  man  by  whom  this  lesson  was  taught  was  Thomas 
G.   Wainwright.     He  was  first  known   in  the  literary 
circles  of  the  metropolis,  as  an  able  writer  and  critic 
in  the  London  Magazine,  under  the  nom-de-plume  of 
Janus   Weathercock.      It   is    painful,    now   that    after 
events  have  shown  the  fearful  depths  to  which  he' fell, 
to  trace  in  his  writings  the  evil  influences  which  were 
then  plainly  operating  within.      Passionate  impulses, 
not  only  unchecked  but  fostered  ;  a  prurient  imagina- 
tion, rioting  in   the   conception    and    development   of 
luxurious  and  criminal  pictures,  intimate  but  too  plainly 
to  the  moralist  the  fruit  which  the  autumn  of  a  summer 
so  unhealthy  might  be  expected  to  produce.     Men  of 
this  class,  it  may  truly  be  said,  are  ever  trembling  on 
the  brink  of  a  precipice  ;  their  hour  of  trial  comes,  and 
they  fall.     So  was  it  with  Wainwright.     Poverty,  that 
most  trying  of  earthly  tests,  came  upon  him,  and  found 
him   not  only  unnerved  and   unarmed,    but   ready  to 
adopt  any  means  of  escape  from  its  galling  assaults, 
however  unscrupulous  and  deadly.     An  evil  imagina- 
tion,  morbidly  forced,  and  too  prolific  in  the  wildest 
sueeestions,  flattered  him  with  the  means  of  evasion — 
nay,  of  obtaining  even  wealth  ;  and  warily  and  delibe- 
rately, but  unconscious  of  an  avenger  at  his  heels,  he 
proceeded  to  carry  them  into  effect. 

At  this  period  of  his  history — 1825 — Wainwright 
ceased  to  write.  He  and  his  wife  (for  by  this  time  he 
was  united  to  an  amiable  and  accomplished  woman) 
went  to  visit  his  uncle,  to  whose  property  he  was  be- 


Wainwright,  the  Poisoner.  387 

lieved  to  be  the  intended  heir.  During  that  visit  the 
uncle  died,  leaving  the  property  in  question  to  his 
nephew,  by  whom  it  was  speedily  dissipated. 

Shortly  afterwards,  Miss  Helen  and  Miss  Madeline 
Abercrombie,  step-sisters  to  Mrs  Wainwright,  fatally 
for  the  life  of  one,  and  destructively  to  the  peace  of  all, 
became  inmates  of  the  family.  It  is  impossible,  what- 
ever be  our  wish,  to  clear  the  memory  of  Helen  Aber- 
crombie from  the  very  gravest  suspicions.  Be  it  sup- 
posed that,  controlled  by  a  power  to  which  she  had 
fatally  rendered  herself  subservient,  it  was  only  in- 
tended, when  these  insurances  were  effected,  that  by  a 
fictitious  death  the  means  should  be  obtained  from  the 
offices  to  linger  out  their  lives  alone  in  some  foreign 
land.  The  supposition  that  Wainwright  at  this  time 
really  purposed  compassing  her  death  is  scarcely  ten- 
able. She  was  the  most  prominent  actress  in  the  busi- 
ness, anxious  to  insure  to  a  considerable  extent,  and 
hesitating  not  at  falsehood  in  the  endeavour.  It  is, 
therefore,  impossible  to  acquit  her  of  complicity.  In- 
surances to  the  extent  of  £18,000  or  £20,000  were 
effected,  and  then  fearfully  indeed  were  the  tables  turned 
on  the  unhappy  dupe. 

Meanwhile  Wainwright,  like  a  chained  tiger,  was 
goaded  by  poverty.  Time  was  requisite :  time  must 
elapse  before  the  insurance  card  could  be  safely  played. 
In  the  interim,  money  must  be  had  ;  and,  availing  him- 
self of  the  fact  of  some  stock  lying  in  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land, to  the  dividends  only  on  which  he  and  his  wife 
were  entitled,  he  proceeded  to  forge  the  names  of  the 
trustees  to  six  several  powers  of  attorney,  authorising 
the  sale  of  the  principal.  This,  too,  soon  went,  and  the 
melancholy  denouement  drew  rapidly  on. 


388  Romance  of  L ondon. 

Miss   Abercrombie   now  professed   her  intention  of 

going  abroad,  and  made  a  will,  leaving  her  property  to 

her  sister,  and   assigning  her  policy  for  ^3000  in  the 

Palladium — which  zvas  only  effected  for  a  space  of  three 

years — to  Wainwright. 

The  very  night  following  she  was  taken  ill ;  in  a  day 
or  two,  Dr,  now  Sir  Charles,  Locock  was  called  in ;  the 
usual  probable  causes  were  at  once  suggested  and 
accepted  ;  exposure  to  cold  and  wet,  followed  by  a  late 
and  indigestible  supper  and  gastric  derangement,  was 
the  natural  diagnosis.  No  danger  was  apprehended  ; 
but  suddenly,  when  alone  in  the  house,  with  the  excep- 
tion at  least  of  her  sister  and  domestics,  Miss  Aber- 
crombie died.  In  justice  to  Wainwright,  it  should 
be  remembered  that  he  was  not  present.  A  post-mortem 
examination  was  held  ;  and  the  cause  of  death  was 
attributed  to  sudden  effusion  into  the  ventricles  of  the 
brain.  This,  it  need  scarcely  be  added,  was  only  con- 
jectural. 

In  due  course,  application  was  made  to  the  several 
offices  for  the  heavy  amounts  insured,  and  refused. 
This  was  an  unexpected  turn  in  the  affair ;  and  Wain- 
wright, unable  to  remain  longer  in  England,  went  abroad 
— after  having  brought  an  action,  however,  against  one 
insurance  office,  which  was  decided  against  him.  About 
this  time,  too,  his  forgery  on  the  Bank  of  England  was 
discovered,  and  to  return  to  England  was  tantaniount 
to  encountering  certain  death.  He  remained,  therefore, 
in  France,  and  there  his  master  apparently  soon  found 
other  work  for  him  to  do.  He  insured  the  life  of  a 
countryman  and  friend,  also  resident  at  Boulogne,  for 
^5000,  in  the  Pelican  Office.  After  one  premium  only 
had  been  paid,  this  life  too  fell  ;  and  Wainwright  was 


Ratdiffc  Highway  Murders.  389 

apprehended,  and  for  nearly  half-a-year  incarcerated  in 
Paris.  It  is  said  strychnine  was  found  in  his  possession  ; 
but  probably  at  that  period,  no  chemist,  not  even 
Orfila,  would  have  ventured  to  attempt  proving  poison- 
ing thereby. 

Impelled,  apparently  by  that  blind  and  inexplicable 
impulse  which  is  said  so  often  to  draw  criminals  back 
again  to  the  scenes  of  their  past  guilt,  Wainwright,  not- 
withstanding the  imminent  peril  attendant  on  such  a 
step,  ventured  to  return  to  London.  The  reader  who 
has  followed  the  slight  and  imperfect  clue  we  have 
endeavoured  to  supply,  may  conjecture  the  motive  which 
attracted  him  into  the  meshes  long  woven  and  laid  for 
him.  He  was  recognised,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours  captured  and  lodged  in  Newgate ;  and  now,  see- 
ing his  case  utterly  desperate — his  liberty,  if  not  his  life, 
hopelessly  forfeited — he  basely  turns  traitor  to  his  surviv- 
ing confederate,  or  confederates,  and  tenders  information 
which  may  justify  the  offices  in  refusing  to  pay  the 
various  policies  to  Madeline  Abercrombie.  If  we  rightly 
apprehend  the  case,  this  is  the  key  to  the  whole. 

After  a  consultation  held  by  all  the  parties  interested, 
and  with  the  sanction  of  the  Government,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  try  him  for  the  forgery  on  the  bank  only.  He 
was  sentenced  to  transportation  for  life,  and  no  long 
time  after  his  arrival  at  Sydney  he  died  in  the  General 
Hospital  of  that  city. 

Ratcliffe  Highway  Murders. 

THE  murders  of  Marr  and  Williamson,  in  Ratcliffe 
Highway,  arc  among  the  best-remembered  atrocities  of 
the   present   century.      Marr  kept  a  lace   and    pelisse 


3Q0  Romance  of  London. 

warehouse  at  29  Ratcliffe  Highway;  and  about  mid- 
night on  Saturday,  the  7th  of  December  181 1,  had  sent 
his  female  servant  to  purchase  oysters  for  supper,  whilst 
he  was  shutting  up  the  shop  windows.  On  her  return, 
in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  servant  rang  the  bell 
repeatedly  without  any  person  coming.  The  house  was 
then  broken  open,  and  Mr  and  Mrs  Marr,  the  shop-bo}?-, 
and  a  child  in  the  cradle  (the  only  human  beings  in  the 
house),  were  found  murdered. 

The  murders  of  the  Marr  family  were  followed,  twelve 
days  later,  by  the  murders  of  Williamson,  landlord  of 
the  King's  Arms  public-house,  in  Gravel  Lane,  Ratcliffe 
Highway,  his  wife,  and  female  servant.  This  was  in 
the  night,  and  a  lodger,  hearing  a  noise  below,  stole 
down-stairs,  and  there,  through  a  staircase  window,  saw 
the  murderers  searching  the  pockets  of  their  victims ;  he 
returned  to  his  bedroom,  tied  the  bedclothes  together, 
and  thus  let  himself  down  into  the  street,  and  escaped. 
The  alarm  was  given,  but  the  murderers  escaped  over 
some  waste  ground  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  were 
never  traced.  Some  circumstances,  however,  implicated 
a  man  named  Williams,  who  was  committed  to  prison, 
and  there  hanged  himself.  His  body  was  carried  on  a 
platform,  placed  in  a  high  cart,  past  the  houses  of  Marr 
and  Williamson,  and  was  afterwards  thrown,  with  a 
stake  through  his  breast,  into  a  hole  dug  for  the  pur- 
pose, where  the  New  Road  crosses,  and  Cannon  Street 
Road  begins. 

Great  was  the  terror  throughout  the  metropolis  and 
suburbs  after  these  atrocities.  "  Many  of  our  readers," 
says  Macaulay,  "  can  remember  the  terror  which  was  on 
every  face — the  careful  barring  of  doors — the  providing 
of  blunderbusses  and  watchmen's  rattles.     We  know  of 


The  Cato  Street  Conspiracy.  391 

a  shopkeeper  who,  on  that  occasion,  sold  about  three 
hundred  rattles  in  about  ten  hours."  It  was  very- 
common  to  see  from  the  street,  placed  in  an  up-stairs 
window,  a  blunderbuss,  with  an  inscription,  in  large 
letters,  "  Loaded/'  to  terrify  evil-doers,  though,  in  some 
cases,  they  were  thus  provided  with  a  ready  weapon  for 
murder. 

The  Cato  Street  Conspiracy. 

EARLY  in  the  year  1820 — a  period  of  popular  discon- 
tent— a  set  of  desperate  men  banded  themselves  together 
with  a  view  to  effect  a  revolution  by  sanguinary  means, 
almost  as  complete  in  its  plan  of  extermination  as  the 
Gunpowder  Plot.  The  leader  was  one  Arthur  Thistle- 
wood,  who  had  been  a  soldier,  had  been  involved  in  a 
trial  for  sedition,  but  acquitted,  and  had  afterwards 
suffered  a  year's  imprisonment  for  sending  a  challenge 
to  the  minister,  Lord  Sidmouth.  Thistlewood  was 
joined  by  several  other  Radicals,  and  their  meetings  in 
Gray's  Inn  Lane  were  known  to  the  spies  Oliver  and 
Edwards,  employed  by  the  Government.  Their  first 
design  was  to  assassinate  the  ministers,  each  in  his  own 
house  ;  but  their  plot  was  changed,  and  Thistlewood 
and  his  fellow-conspirators  arranged  to  meet  at  Cato 
Street,  Edgware  Road,  and  to  proceed  from  thence  to 
butcher  the  Ministers  assembled  at  a  Cabinet  dinner, 
on  February  23  rd,  at  Lord  Harrowby's,  39  Grosvenor 
Square,  where  Thistlewood  proposed,  as  "  a  rare  haul, 
to  murder  them  altogether."  Some  of  the  conspirators 
were  to  watch  Lord  Harrowby's  house,  one  was  to  call 
and  deliver  a  despatch-box  at  the  door,  the  others  were 
then  to  rush  in  and  murder  the  Ministers  as  they  sat 


392  Romance  of  London. 

at  dinner;  and,  as  special  trophies,  to  bring  away  with 
them  the  heads  of  Lords  Sidmouth  and  Castlereagh  in 
two  bags  provided  for  the  purpose  !  They  were  then  to 
fire  the  cavalry  barracks ;  and  the  Bank  and  Tower 
were  to  be  taken  by  the  people,  who,  it  was  hoped, 
would  rise  upon  the  spread  of  the  news. 

This  plot  was,  however,  revealed  to  the  Ministers  by 
Edwards,  who  had  joined  the  conspirators  as  a  spy. 
Still,  no  notice  was  apparently  taken.  The  preparations 
for  dinner  went  on  at  Lord  Harrowby's  till  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  but  the  guests  did  not  arrive.  The  Arch- 
bishop  of  York,  who  lived  next  door,  happened  to  give 
a  dinner  party  at  the  same  hour,  and  the  arrival  of  the 
carriages  deceived  those  of  the  conspirators  who  were  on 
the  watch  in  the  street,  till  it  was  too  late  to  give  warning 
to  their  comrades  who  had  assembled  at  Cato  Street  in 
a  loft  over  a  stable,  accessible  only  by  a  ladder.  Here, 
while  the  traitors  were  arming  themselves  by  the  light 
of  one  or  two  candles,  a  party  of  Bow  Street  officers 
entered  the  stable,  when  Smithers,  the  first  of  them  who 
mounted  the  ladder,  and  attempted  to  seize  Thistlewood, 
was  run  by  him  through  the  body,  and  instantly  fell  ; 
whilst,  the  lights  being  extinguished,  a  few  shots  were 
exchanged  in  the  darkness  and  confusion,  and  Thistle- 
wood  and  several  of  his  companions  escaped  through  a 
Avindow  at  the  back  of  the  premises  ;  nine  were  taken 
that  evening  with  their  arms  and  ammunition,  and  the 
intelligence  conveyed  to  the  Ministers,  who,  having  dined 
at  home,  met  at  Lord  Liverpool's  to  await  the  result  of 
what  the  Bow  Street  officers  had  done.  A  reward  of 
;£iooo  was  immediately  offered  for  the  apprehension  of 
Thistlewood,  and  he  was  captured  before  eight  o'clock 
next  morning  while  in  bed  at  a  friend's  house,  No.  8 


The  Cato  Street  Conspiracy.  393 

White  Street,  Little  Moorflelcls.  The  conspirators  were 
sent  to  the  Tower,  and  were  the  last  persons  imprisoned 
in  that  fortress.  On  April  20th,  Thistlewood  was  con- 
demned to  death  after  three  days'  trial ;  and  on  May  1st, 
he  and  his  four  principal  accomplices,  Ings,  Brunt,  Tidd, 
and  Davidson,  who  had  been  severally  tried  and  con- 
victed, were  hanged  at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  their  heads 
cut  off.  The  remaining  six  pleaded  guilty  ;  one  was 
pardoned,  and  five  were  transported  for  life. 

In  1830,  three  of  these  conspirators — Strange,  Wilson, 
and  Harris — were  seen  by  Judge  Therry,  at  Bathurst, 
New  South  Wales.  Strange  was  living  in  1862  ;  he  was 
for  many  years  chief  constable  of  the  Bathurst  district, 
and  was  then  the  terror  of  bushrangers,  for  capturing 
several  of  whom  he-  was  rewarded  by  the  Colonial 
Government.  The  reckless  disregard  of  danger  that,  in 
a  bad  cause,  made  him  an  apt  instrument  for  the  deed 
that  doomed  him  to  transportation,  made  him,  when 
engaged  in  a  good  cause,  an  invaluable  constable.  He 
obtained  a  ticket-of -leave  soon  after  his  arrival  from  Sir 
T.  Brisbane,  for  capturing,  in  a  single-handed  struggle, 
Robert  Story,  the  notorious  bushranger  of  his  time,  and 
many  other  marauders  of  less  note.  If  it  were  known 
that  "  the  Cato  Street  Chief"  (the  title  by  which  as  chief 
constable  he  was  known)  was  in  search  of  the  plunderers 
who  then  prowled  along  the  roads,  they  fled  from  the 
district,  and  his  name  was  quite  a  tower  of  strength  to 
the  peaceable  portion  of  the  community.  At  present  he 
is  the  head  of  a  patriarchal  home  on  the  banks  of  the 
Fish  River,  at  Bathurst,  surrounded  by  children  and 
grandchildren,  all  industrious  persons,  in  the  enjoyment 
of  a  comfortable  competence.  Wilson  was  also  for  some 
time  an  active  constable  under  Strange.     On  obtaining 


3  94  Romance  of  L ondon. 

the  indulgence  of  a  ticket-of-leave  he  married,  and  be- 
came the  fashionable  tailor  of  the  district,  with  a  sign- 
board over  his  shop  announcing  him  as  "Wilson,  Tailor, 
from  London." 

Vanx,  the  Swindler  and  Pickpocket. 

James  Hardy  Vaux,  remembered  by  his  contribution 
to  convict  literature,  presented  a  strong  instance  of  the 
constant  tendency  to  crime  that  some  individuals  ex- 
hibit. He  was,  when  very  young,  transported  to  New 
South  Wales  for  life.  After  the  usual  probationary 
course,  he  obtained  a  conditional  pardon,  which  placed 
him  in  the  position  of  a  free  citizen  in  New  South  Wales, 
provided  he  did  not  leave  the  colony.  The  violation  of 
the  condition  of  residence  subjected  him  to  be  remitted 
to  his  first  sentence — transportation  for  life.  He  escaped, 
however,  and,  on  his  arrival  in  England,  had  the  hardi- 
hood to  publish  a  book  descriptive  of  his  career  in  the 
colony,  which  attracted  some  attention  in  London  about 
the  year  1818. 

This  is,  by  no  means,  an  ordinary  work;  it  is  very 
minute  ;  though  it  is  hard  to  credit  such  a  narrative, 
unreservedly.  He  tells  us  that  he  generally  spent  his 
mornings,  from  one  to  five  o'clock,  the  fashionable 
shopping  hours,  in  visiting  the  shops  of  jewellers,  watch- 
makers, pawnbrokers,  &c.  Depending  upon  his  address 
and  appearance,  he  made  a  circuit  of  the  town  in  the 
shops,  commencing  in  a  certain  street  and  going  regu- 
larly through  it,  on  both  sides  of  the  way.  His  practice 
was  to  enter  a  shop,  and  request  to  look  at  gold  seals, 
brooches,  rings,  or  other  small  articles  of  value ;  and 
while  examining  them,  and  looking  the  shopkeeper  in 


Vaux,  the  Swindler  and  Pickpocket.  395 

the  face,  he  contrived,  by  sleight-of-hand,  to  conceal  two 
or  three,  sometimes  more,  in  the  sleeve  of  his  coat, 
which  was  purposely  made  wide.  Sometimes  he  would 
purchase  a  trifling  article,  to  save  appearances ;  another 
time  he  took  a  card  of  the  shop,  promising  to  call  again ; 
and  as  he  generally  saw  the  remaining  goods  returned 
to  the  window,  a  place  from  which  they  had  been  taken, 
before  he  left  the  shop,  there  was  hardly  a  probability 
of  his  being  suspected,  or  of  the  property  being  missed. 
In  the  course  of  his  career,  Vaux  was  never  detected  in 
the  fact ;  though,  once  or  twice,  so  much  suspicion  arose, 
that  he  was  obliged  to  exert  all  his  effrontery,  and  to 
use  very  high  language,  in  order,  as  the  cant  phrase  is, 
to  bounce  the  tradesmen  out  of  it;  and  Vaux's  fashion- 
able appearance,  and  affected  anger  at  the  insinuations, 
mostly  convinced  his  accuser  that  he  was  mistaken,  and 
induced  him  to  apologise  for  the  affront.  He  even  some- 
times carried  away  the  spoil,  notwithstanding  what  had 
passed ;  and  he  often  paid  a  second  and  a  third  visit  to 
the  same  shop,  with  as  good  success  as  the  first.  To 
prevent  accidents,  however,  he  made  it  a  rule  never  to 
enter  a  second  shop  with  any  stolen  property  about 
him  ;  for,  as  soon  as  he  quitted  the  first,  he  privately  con- 
veyed his  booty  to  his  assistant,  Bromley,  who  awaited 
him  in  the  street,  and  who,  for  this  purpose,  proved  very 
useful. 

By  this  course  of  depredation,  Vaux  acquired,  on  the 
average,  about  ten  pounds  a  week,  though  he  some- 
times neglected  shopping  for  several  days  together. 
This  was  not,  indeed,  his  only  pursuit,  but  was  his 
principal  morning  occupation ;  though,  when  a  favour- 
able opportunity  offered  for  getting  a  guinea  by  any 
other  means,  Vaux  never  let  it  slip.     In  the  evening,  he 


3 g6  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

generally  attended  one  of  the  theatres,  where  he  mixed 
with  the  best  company  in  the  boxes,  and  at  the  same 
time  enjoyed  the  performance.  He  frequently  con- 
veyed pocket-books,  snuff-boxes,  and  other  portable 
articles  from  the  pockets  of  their  proprietors  into  his 
own.  Here  he  found  the  inconvenience  of  wanting  a 
companion,  who  might  receive  the  articles  in  the  same 
manner  as  Bromley  did  in  the  streets  ;  but,  though  he 
knew  many  of  the  light-fingered  gentry,  whose  appear- 
ance was  good,  yet,  their  faces  being  well  known  to  the 
police-officers  who  attended  the  theatre,  they  would  not 
have  been  allowed  to  enter  the  house.  Here  Vaux  had 
the  advantage,  for  being  just  arrived  in  England,  and  a 
new  face  upon  the  town,  he  carried  on  his  depredations, 
under  the  very  nose  of  the  officers,  without  suspicion. 
Having,  however,  at  first,  no  associate,  he  was  obliged 
to  quit  the  theatre,  and  conceal  his  first  booty  in  some 
private  spot,  before  he  could  make,  with  prudence,  a 
second  attempt. 

Upon  the  whole,  Vaux  was  very  successful  as  to  the 
number  of  articles  he  filched — not  so,  as  to  their  value. 
He  very  frequently  obtained  nine  or  ten  pocket-books, 
besides  other  articles,  in  one  evening;  and  these  being 
taken  from  well-dressed  gentlemen,  he  had  reason  to 
expect  that  he  should  some  day  meet  with  a  handsome 
sum  in  bank-notes  ;  but  fortune  did  not  so  favour  him, 
for,  during  nearly  twelve  months'  almost  nightly  attend- 
ance at  some  public  place,  did  not  yield  more  than  £20 
in  a  book,  and  that  only  on  one  occasion.  He  several 
times  got  five,  ten,  or  eleven  pounds,  but  commonly 
one,  two,  or 'three  pounds;  and  generally  four  books 
out  of  the  five  contained  nothing  but  letters  or  memo- 
randa, or  other  useless  papers.     At  the  same  time  Vaux 


Vena;  the  Swindler  and  Pickpocket.  ^cyj 

knew  frequent  instances  of  common  street  pickpockets 
getting  a  booty  of  fifty,  one  hundred,  and  sometimes 
three  or  four  hundred  pounds.  However,  Vaux  never 
failed  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  night.  It  sometimes 
happened  that  the  articles  he  got,  particularly  pocket- 
books,  were  advertised  by  the  losers,  within  a  few  days, 
as  "  Lost,"  and  a  reward  offered  for  their  restoration  ; 
where  the  reward  was  worth  notice,  Vaux  restored  the 
property  by  means  of  a  third  person  whom  he  could 
confide  in,  and  whom  he  previously  tutored  for  the 
purpose. 

Vaux  soon  afterwards  made  his  way  to  Dublin,  where 
he  was  again  convicted  of  larceny,  and  transported  for 
seven  years,  under  the  assumed  name  of  James  Stewart. 
On  the  arrival  of  the  ship  that  conveyed  him  to  New 
South  Wales,  this  then  somewhat  remarkable  person  i$ 
thus  described  :  His  address  was  very  courteous,  and 
his  voice  was  of  a  remarkably  soft  and  insinuating  tone. 
He  expressed  a  deep  contrition  for  his  past  life,  vowed 
amendment,  poured  forth  his  gratitude  for  the  mercy 
that  had  been  shown  to  him,  expressing  a  hope  that  by 
his  future  conduct  he  might  prove  that  it  had  not  been 
unworthily  bestowed.  Perhaps  he  meant  at  the  moment 
all  that  he  uttered,  but,  so  incapable  had  he  become  of 
resisting  any  temptation  to  crime,  that  within  a  twelve- 
month after  his  arrival  a  second  time  as  a  convict,  he 
committed  a  felony  for  which  he  was  sent  to  work  for 
two  years  in  irons  on  the  public  roads. 


393  Romance  of  L  on  don. 

A  Murderer  taken  by  means  of  the 
Electric  Telegraph. 

The  capture  of  the  murderer  Tawell,  through  the 
instrumentality  of  the  Electric  Telegraph,  is  among  the 
earliest,  as  well  as  the  most  remarkable,  instances  of  its 
marvellous  achievements.  Although  the  facts  of  this 
case  may  be  in  the  recollection  of  some  readers,  we  shall 
here  narrate  its  main  points,  in  so  far  as  they  show  the 
wondrous  working  of  the  telegraph. 

On  Wednesday,  the  1st  of  January  1845,  a  woman, 
named  Sarah  Hart,  was  found  by  her  neighbours 
struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death,  in  her  cottage  at 
Salthill,  a  short  distance  from  the  Slough  station  of  the 
Great  Western  Railway.  On  the  evening  of  the  occur- 
rence, the  neighbour  who  overheard  the  poor  woman's 
screams  went  into  an  adjoining  garden,  and  there,  by 
the  dim  light  of  a  candle,  which  she  carried  in  her  hand, 
she  distinctly  saw  a  man,  in  the  garb  of  one  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  retreating  hastily  from  the  cottage 
whence  the  screams  proceeded  ;  and  further,  this  neigh- 
bour recognised  the  fugitive  as  bearing  the  appearance 
of  a  man  who  was  an  occasional  frequenter  of  the  house. 
He  was  seen  to  glance  hurriedly  about,  and  then  to 
make  for  the  Slough  road.  The  neighbour,  Mary  Ash- 
lee,  who  witnessed  his  precipitate  flight,  then  entered 
the  house,  where  she  found  Sarah  Hart  just  upon  the 
point  of  expiring.  Having  summoned  surgical  assist- 
ance, she  communicated  her  suspicions  to  her  neigh- 
bours ;  and  the  Rev.  E.  T.  Champneys,  Vicar  of  Upton- 
cum-Chalvey,  hearing  of  the  mysterious  death  of  the 
deceased,  and  that  a  person  in  the  dress  of  a  Quaker 


Murder  and  the  Electric  Telegraph.  399 

was  the  last  man  who  had  been  seen  to  leave  her 
cottage,  he  proceeded  to  the  Slough  station,  thinking  it 
likely  the  fugitive  might  proceed  to  town  by  the  railway. 
The  reverend  gentleman  saw  the  individual  described 
pass  through  the  railway  booking-office,  when  he  com- 
municated his  suspicions  to  Mr  Howell,  the  superinten- 
dent of  the  station.  The  man  (Tawell)  then  left  in  a 
first-class  carriage  without  interruption ;  and,  at  the 
same  instant,  Mr  Howell  sent  off,  by  the  electric  tele- 
graph, a  full  description  of  his  person,  with  instructions 
to  cause  him  to  be  watched  by  the  police,  upon  his 
arrival  at  Paddington. 

The  words  of  the  communication  were  precisely  as 
follows : — 

The  Message. 

"A  murder  has  just  been  committed  at  Salthill,  and 
the  suspected  murderer  was  seen  to  take  a  first-class 
ticket  for  London  by  the  train  which  left  Slough  at 
7I1.  42m.  r.M.  He  is  in  the  garb  of  a  Quaker,  with  a 
brown  great-coat  on,  which  reaches  nearly  down  to  his 
feet ;  he  is  in  the  last  compartment  of  the  second  first- 
class  carriage." 

Within  a  few  minutes  was  received 

The  Reply. 
"  The  up-train  has  arrived  ;  and  a  person  answering, 
in  every  respect,  the  description  given  by  the  telegraph, 
came  out  of  the  compartment  mentioned.  I  pointed 
the  man  out  to  Sergeant  Williams.  The  man  got  into 
a  New  Road  omnibus,  and  Sergeant  Williams  into  the 
same."  Thus,  while  the  suspected  man  was  on  his  way 
to  the  metropolis  at  a  fast  rate,  the  telegraph,  with  still 
greater  rapidity,  sent  along  the  wire  which  skirted  the 


400  Romance  of  London. 

path  of  the  carriage  in  which  he  sat  the  startling  in- 
structions for  his  capture. 

On  the  omnibus  arriving  at  the  Bank,  Tawell  got 
out,  crossed  oyer  to  the  statue  of  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton, where  he  stopped  for  a  short  time,  looking  about, 
it  is  supposed,  to  see  if  any  person  was  following  him. 
He  then  proceeded  to  the  Jerusalem  Coffee-House  ; 
thence,  over  London  Bridge,  to  the  Leopard  Coffee- 
House,  in  the  Borough  ;  then  back  again  to  Cannon 
Street,  in  the  city,  to  a  lodging-house  in  Scott's  Yard, 
where  he  was  apprehended  with  £12,  10s.  in  his  pocket, 
and  documents  that  led  to  his  being  identified. 

Thus  the  capture  was  completed  ;  and  it  was  well 
observed,  in  a  report  of  the  inquest  held  upon  the  mur* 
dered  woman,  that  "  had  it  not  been  for  the  efficient 
aid  of  the  electric  telegraph,  both  at  Slough  and  Pad- 
dington,  the  greatest  difficulty,  as  well  as  delay,  would 
have  occurred  in  the  apprehension  of  the  party  now  in 
custody."  Altogether,  this  application  of  the  telegraph 
produced  in  the  public  mind  an  intense  conviction  of 
its  vast  utility  to  the  moral  welfare  of  society. 

It  need  not  be  added  how  Tawell  was  tried,  con- 
victed, condemned,  and  executed  for  the  murder ;  some 
time  after  which,  few  persons  looked  at  the  telegraph 
station  at  Slough  without  feeling  the  immense  import- 
ance of  this  novel  application  of  man's  philosophy  to 
the  protection  of  his  race.  The  transmission  of  the 
signals  is  practically  instantaneous  ;  and  the  conversa- 
tion, by  means  of  the  keys,  may  be  carried  on  by  an 
experienced  person  almost  as  rapidly  as  a  familiar  piece 
of  music  could  be  played. 

It  is  a  curious,  but  perhaps  not  currently  known  fact, 
that  in  the  alphabet  used  by  this  electric  telegraph  there 


Murder  and  the  Electric  Telegraph.  401 

are  no  separate  signs  or  symbols  for  J,  Q,  or  Z,  though 
each  of  these  are  represented  by  their  synonymes,  or 
sister  sounds,  G,  K,  and  S.  This  is  occasionally  found 
awkward.  Its  convenience,  at  any  rate,  was  illustrated 
in  the  particular  case  of  Tawell,  who  probably  might 
have  escaped,  had  it  not  been  that  the  manipulator  at 
Paddington  was  aware  of  the  adverse  results  that  might 
arise  from  the  imperfection  connected  with  the  feature 
in  question.  It  was  the  particular  character  or  Quaker 
costume  of  Tawell  that  led  to  his  immediate  detection. 
The  manipulator  at  Slough  had  to  communicate  the 
fact  to  the  authority  at  Paddington,  that  the  suspected 
party  was  a  Quaker.  This  puzzled  him,  from  the  fact  of 
there  being  no  exclusive  symbol  for  0  in  the  category 
of  electric  letters  ;  and  the  using  of  the  letter  K  for  this 
purpose  might  have  led  to  confusion  and  loss  of  time. 
While  the  clerks  were  carrying  on  an  interchange  of 
"  not  understand,"  "repeat,"  &c,  &c,  six  or  seven  times, 
the  train  might  have  arrived,  and  Tawell  have  altogether 
escaped  detection.  It  fortunately  happened  that  the 
person  then  working  the  telegraph  at  Paddington  knew 
the  defect,  and  comprehended  at  once,  both  mechanically 
and  mentally,  what  was  intended  to  be  conveyed.  Of 
course,  had  Tawell  got  out  between  Slough  and  Pad- 
dington, and  not  at  the  latter  terminus,  he  would  have 
escaped,  as  the  telegraph  did  not  work  at  the  inter- 
mediate stations. 

John  Tawell,  it  appears,  from  Judge  Therry's  work 
on  Australia,  published  in  1864,  was  a  returned  convict, 
and  a  model  specimen  of  prison  reformation.  Previous 
to  his  transportation  to  New  South  Wales,  for  forgery, 
upwards  of  forty  years  before,  his  occupation  in  England 

was  that  of  a  commercial  traveller.     His  career  in  the 
vol.  1.  2  c 


402  Romance  of  London. 

colony  exhibited  a  strange  mixture  of  shrewdness  and 
money-making  talent,  combined  with  an  outward  show 
of  religion.  On  obtaining  partial  exemption  from  con- 
vict discipline,  he  became  the  principal  druggist,  and 
had  one  of  the  showiest  shops  of  that  kind  in  Sydney. 
After  a  prosperous  career  he  sold  his  business  to  a 
respectable  chemist  for  ^"14,000.  This  sum  he  judi- 
ciously invested  in  buildings  and  other  pursuits  of  profit. 
For  nearly  two  years  Tawell  occupied  a  house  opposite 
to  Mr  Therry's  in  Sydney.  He  struck  the  late  judge  as 
being  a  remarkably  well-conducted  person.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  and  he  wore  the 
broad-brimmed  hat,  appeared  always  in  a  neat  and 
carefully-adjusted  costume,  and  his  whole  appearance 
.and  manner  impressed  one  with  the  notion  of  his  being 
a  very  saintly  personage.  He  always  sought  the  society 
in  public  of  persons  of  reputed  piety.  Mr  Therry  often 
met  him  in  the  street,  accompanied  by  a  secretary  or 
collector  to  a  charitable  institution,  whom  he  assisted  in 
obtaining  contributions  for  benevolent  objects.  At  one 
time  he  took  up  the  cause  of  temperance  in  such  an 
intemperate  spirit,  that  he  ordered  a  puncheon  of  rum 
iie  had  imported  to  be  staved  on  the  wharf  in  Sydney, 
and  its  contents  poured  into  the  sea,  saying  that  he 
would  "  not  be  instrumental  to  the  guilt  of  dissemi-- 
nating  such  poison  throughout  the  colony."  At  another 
time  his  zeal  took  a  religious  turn,  and  he  built  in 
Macquarie  Street  a  commodious  meeting-house  for 
the  Society  of  Friends. 


Stories  of  the  Bank  of  England.  403 


Stories  of  the  Bank  of  England. 

THE  traditions  of  the  Bank  of  England  present  rackings 
of  human  cunning",  all  which  a  little  honesty  might  have 
saved.  Several  narratives  of  this  class  are  related  in 
Mr  Francis's  popular  History  of  the  Bank.  Such  are  his 
stories  of  Stolen  Notes.  For  example,  a  Jew  having 
purchased  £20,000  worth  of  notes  of  a  felon  banker's- 
clerk,  the  Jew,  in  six  months,  presented  them  at  the 
Bank,  and  demanded  payment ;  this  was  refused,  as  the 
bills  had  been  stolen.  The  Jew,  who  was  a  wealthy  and 
energetic  man,  then  deliberately  went  to  the  Exchange, 
and  asserted  publicly  that  the  Bank  had  refused  to 
honour  their  own  bills  for  £20,000  ;  that  their  credit 
was  gone ;  their  affairs  in  confusion  ;  that  they  had 
stopped  payment.  The  Exchange  wore  every  appearance 
of  alarm  ;  the  Hebrew  showed  the  notes  to  corroborate 
his  assertion;  he  declared  they  had  been  remitted  to  him 
from  Holland  :  his  statement  was  believed.  He  then 
declared  he  would  advertise  the  refusal  of  the  Bank  : 
information  reached  the  directors,  and  a  messenger 
was  sent  to  inform  the  holder  that  he  might  receive 
the  cash  in  exchange  for  the  notes.  The  fact  is,  the 
law  could  not  hinder  the  holder  of  the  notes  from 
interpreting  the  refusal  that  was  made  of  payment  as 
he  pleased — for  instance,  as  a  pretext  to  gain  time,  and 
belief  in  this  would  have  created  great  alarm  ;  all  which 
the  directors  foresaw — though  this  was  at  an  early  period, 
when  the  reputation  of  the  company  was  not  so  firmly 
established  as  at  the  present  time. 

Of  Lost  Notes  there  arc  some  entertaining  narratives. 
Thus,  in    1740,  a  bank   director  lost   a  £30,000  bank- 


404  Romance  of  London. 

note,  which  he  was  persuaded  had  fallen  from  the 
chimney-piece  of  his  room  into  the  fire.  The  Bank 
directors  gave  the  loser  a  second  bill,  upon  his  agree- 
ment to  restore  the  first  bill  should  it  ever  be  found,  or 
to  pay  the  money  itself  should  it  be  presented  by  any 
stranger.  About  thirty  years  after  this  had  occurred, 
the  director  having  been  long  dead,  and  his  heirs  in 
possession  of  his  fortune,  an  unknown  person  presented 
the  lost  bill  at  the  Bank,  and  demanded  payment.  It 
was  in  vain  that  they  mentioned  to  this  person  the 
transaction  by  which  the  bill  was  annulled  ;  he  would 
not  listen  to  it ;  he  maintained  that  it  had  come  to  him 
from  abroad,  and  insisted  upon  immediate  payment. 
The  note  was  payable  to  bearer ;  and  the  thirty  thou- 
sand pounds  were  paid  him.  The  heirs  of  the  director 
would  not  listen  to  any  demands  of  restitution,  and  the 
Bank  was  obliged  to  sustain  the  loss.  It  was  discovered 
afterwards  that  an  architect,  having  purchased  the 
director's  house,  had  taken  it  down,  in  order  to  build 
another  upon  the  same  spot,  had  found  the  note  in  a 
crevice  of  the  chimney,  and  made  his  discovery  an 
engine  for  robbing  the  Bank. 

The  day  on  which  a  Forged  Note  was  first  presented 
at  the  Bank  of  England  forms  a  memorable  event  in  its 
history.  For  sixty-four  years  the  establishment  had 
circulated  its  paper  with  freedom ;  and,  during  this 
period,  no  attempt  had  been  made  to  imitate  it.  He 
who  takes  the  initiative  in  a  new  line  of  wrong-doing, 
has  more  than  the  simple  act  to  answer  for ;  and  to 
Richard  William  Vaughan,  a  Stafford  linen-draper,  be- 
longs the  melancholy  celebrity  of  having  led  the  van  in 
this  new  phase  of  crime  in  the  year  1758.  The  records 
of  his   life   do   not   show  want,  beggary,  or  starvation 


Stories  of  Fleet  Marriages.  405 

urging  him,  but  a  simple  desire  to  seem  greater  than  he 
was.  By  one  of  the  artists  employed,  and  there  were 
several  engaged  on  different  parts  of  the  notes,  the  dis- 
covery was  made.  The  criminal  had  filled  up  to  the 
number  of  twenty,  and  deposited  them  in  the  hands  of 
a  young  lady  to  whom  he  was  attached,  as  a  proof  of 
his  wealth.  There  is  no  calculating  how  much  longer 
bank-notes  might  have  been  free  from  imitation,  had 
this  man  not  shown  with  what  ease  they  might  be 
counterfeited.  Thenceforth  forged  notes  became 
common. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century,  and  the  earlier 
portion  of  the  present,  the  cashier  of  the  Bank  was 
Abraham  Newland,  by  whom  all  prosecutions  for  for- 
gery of  the  notes  of  that  establishment  were  instituted. 
Strange  to  say,  the  largest  loss  ever  perhaps  sustained 
by  the  Bank,  through  the  dishonesty  of  a  servant,  was 
through  Newland's  nephew,  Robert  Astlett,  a  clerk  in 
the  establishment.  It  amounted  to  £320,000,  which 
consisted  in  plundered  Exchequer  Bills,  and  was  equal 
to  the  entire  half-yearly  dividend  of  1803,  the  year  in 
which  the  fraud  was  perpetrated.  Astlett  escaped 
through  the  bungling  of  the  Bank  counsel  in  framing 
the  indictment  against  him.  He  was  tried  under  the 
Bank  Act,  to  make  his  conviction  the  more  certain ; 
had  he  been  tried  under  the  ordinary  law  applicable  to 
common  cases  of  embezzlement,  he  would  have  been 
convicted. 


^obt  antr  ^KtxwQt 


Stories  of  Fleet  Marriages. 

These  unlicenced  marriages  are  said  to  have  originated 
with  the  incumbents  of  Trinity,  Minories,  and  St 
James's,  Duke's  Place,  who  claimed  to  be  exempt  from 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  performed 
marriages  without  banns  or  licence,  till  Elliott,  Rector 
of  St  James's,  was  suspended  in  1616.  The  trade  was 
then  taken  up  by  clerical  prisoners  living  within  the 
Rules  of  the  Fleet,  who,  having  neither  money,  character, 
nor  liberty  to  lose,  were  just  the  men  to  adopt  such  a 
traffic.  Mr  Burn,  who  has  devoted  much  attention  to 
these  strange  practices,  enumerates  eighty-nine  Fleet 
parsons,  most  of  them  lusty,  jolly  fellows,  but  thorough 
rogues  and  vagabonds,  guilty  of  various  offences,  many  of 
them  too  gross  to  be  named.  They  openly  plied  their 
trade,  as  in  the  following  specimens  : — 

"G.R. — At  the  ttue  chapel,  at  the  old  Red  Hand  and  Mitre,  three 
doors  up  Fleet  Lane,  and  next  door  to  the  White  Swan,  marriages  are 
performed  by  authority  by  the  Rev.  Mr  Symson,  educated  at  the  University 
of  Cambridge,  and  late  chaplain  to  the  Earl  of  Rothes. — N.B.  Without 
imposition." 

"J.  Lilley,  at  ye  Hand  and  Pen,  next  door  to  the  China  Shop,  Fleet 
Bridge,  London,  will  be  performed  the  solemnisation  of  marriages  by  a 
gentleman  regularly  bred  at  one  of  our  universities,  and  lawfully  ordained 
according  to  the  institutions  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  is  ready  to  wait 
on  any  person  in  town  or  country." 

"  Marriages  with  a  licence,  certificate,  and  crown-stamp,  at  a  guinea,  at 
the  New  Chapel,  next  door  to  the  China  Shop,  near  Fleet  Bridge,  London, 


Stories  of  Fleet  Marriages.  407 

by  a  regular  bred  clergyman,  and  not  by  a  Fleet  parson,  as  is  insinuated  in 
the  public  papers ;  and  that  the  town  may  be  freed  mistakes,  no  clergyman 
being  a  prisoner  within  the  Rules  of  the  Fleet  dare  marry  j  and  to  obviate 
all  doubts,  the  chapel  is  not  on  the  verge  of  the  Fleet,  but  kept  by  a 
gentleman  who  was  lately  chaplain  on  board  one  of  his  Majesty's  men-of- 
war,  and  likewise  has  gloriously  distinguished  himself  in  defence  of  his 
King  and  country,  and  is  above  committing  those  little  mean  actions  that 
some  men  impose  on  people,  being  determined  to  have  everything  con- 
ducted with  the  utmost  decorum  and  regularity,  such  as  shall  always  be 
supported  on  law  and  equity." — Daily  Advertiser. 

There  was  great  competition  in  the  business.  Thus, 
at  one  corner  might  be  seen  in  a  window — "  Wed  dines 
performed  cheap  here;"  and  on  another,  "  The  Old  and 
True  Register  ; "  and  every  few  yards  along  the  Ditch 
and  up  Fleet  Lane,  similar  announcements.  But  the 
great  trade  was  at  the  "  marriage-houses,"  whose  land- 
lords were  also  tavern-keepers.  The  Swan,  the  Lamb, 
the  Horse-shoe  and  Magpie,  the  Bishop  Biaire,  the  Two 
Sawyers,  the  Fighting  Cocks,  the  Hand  and  Pen,  were 
places  of  this  description  ;  as  were  the  Bull  and  Garter 
and  King's  Head  (kept  by  warders  of  the  Fleet  Prison). 
The  parson  and  landlord  (the  latter  usually  acted  as 
clerk)  divided  the  fee  between  them,  after  paying  a 
shilling  to  the  plyer,  or  tout,  who  brought  in  the  cus- 
tomers. The  marriages  were  entered  in  a  pocket-book 
by  the  parson,  and  on  payment  of  a  small  fee  copied 
into  the  regular  register  of  the  house,  unless  the  inter- 
ested parties  desired  the  affair  to  be  kept  secret.  Mar- 
riages were  performed  in  the  Fleet  previously  to  1754, 
in  the  Prison  Chapel. 

In  the  Grub  Street  Journal  of  January  1735,  wc 
read  : — "There  are  a  set  of  drunken,  swearing  parsons, 
with  their  myrmidons,  who  wear  black  coats,  and  pre- 
tend to  be  clerks  and  registers  of  the  Fleet,  and  who 
ply  about  Ludgate  I  Till,  pulling  and  forcing  people  to 


408  Romance  of  London. 

some  peddling  ale-house  or  brandy-shop  to  be  married; 
even  on  a  Sunday,  stopping  them  as  they  go  to  church, 
and  almost  tearing  their  clothes  off  their  backs."  Pen- 
nant confirms  this : — "  In  walking  along  the  streets  in 
my  youth,  on  the  side  next  the  prison,  I  have  often  been 
tempted  by  the  question,  '  Sir,  will  you  be  pleased  to 
walk  in  and  be  married  ? '  Along  this  most  lawless 
space  was  frequently  hung  up  the  sign  of  a  male  and 
female,  with  hands  conjoined,  with  'Marriages  performed 
within '  written  underneath.  A  dirty  fellow  invited  you. 
The  parson  was  seen  walking  before  his  shop;  a  squalid, 
profligate  figure,  clad  in  a  tattered  plaid  night-gown, 
with  a  fiery  face,  and  ready  to  couple  you  for  a  dram 
of  gin  or  roll  of  tobacco." 

The  following  are  a  few  cases  : — Since  Midsummer 
last,  a  young  lady  of  birth  and  fortune  was  deluded  and 
forced  from  her  friends,  and  by  the  assistance  of  a  wry- 
necked,  swearing  parson,  married  to  an  atheistical 
wretch,  whose  life  is  a  continued  practice  of  all  manner 
of  vice  and  debauchery.  And  since  the  ruin  of  my 
relative,  another  lady  of  my  acquaintance  had  like  to 
have  been  trepanned  in  the  following  manner : — This 
lady  had  appointed  to  meet  a  gentlewoman  at  the  Old 
Play  House,  in  Drury  Lane,  but  extraordinary  business 
prevented  her  coming.  Being  alone  when  the  play  was 
done,  she  bade  a  boy  call  a  coach  for  the  city.  One 
dressed  like  a  gentleman  helps  her  into  it,  and  jumps  in 
after  her.  "  Madam,"  says  he,  "  this  coach  was  called 
for  me,  and  since  the  weather  is  so  bad,  and  there  is  no 
other,  I  beg  leave  to  bear  you  company ;  I  am  going 
into  the  city,  and  will  set  you  down  wherever  you 
please."  The  lady  begged  to  be  excused,  but  he  bade 
the  coachman  drive  on.     Being  come  to  Ludgate  Hill, 


Stories  of  Fleet  Marriages.  409 

he  told  her  his  sister,  who  waited  his  coming  but  five 
doors  up  the  court,  would  go  with  her  in  two  minutes. 
He  went,  and  returned  with  his  pretended  sister,  who 
asked  her  to  step  in  one  minute,  and  she  would  wait 
upon  her  in  the  coach.  The  poor  lady  foolishly  followed 
her  into  the  house,  when  instantly  the  sister  vanished, 
and  a  tawny  fellow,  in  a  black  coat  and  a  black  wig, 
appeared.  "  Madam,  you  are  come  in  good  time ;  the 
doctor  was  just  agoing!"  "The  doctor!"  says  she, 
horribly  frightened,  fearing  it  was  a  madhouse,  "  what 
has  the  doctor  to  do  with  me? "  "  To  marry  you  to  that 
gentleman.  The  doctor  has  waited  for  you  these  three 
hours,  and  will  be  paid  by  you  or  that  gentleman  before 
you  go  ! "  "  That  gentleman,"  says  she,  recovering  her- 
self, "is  worthy  a  better  fortune  than  mine;"  and 
begged  hard  to  be  gone.  But  Doctor  Wryneck  swore 
she  should  be  married ;  or,  if  she  would  not,  he  would 
still  have  his  fee,  and  register  the  marriage  for  that 
night.  The  lady,  finding  she  could  not  escape  without 
money  or  a  pledge,  told  them  she  liked  the  gentleman 
so  well  she  would  certainly  meet  him  to-morrow  night, 
and  gave  them  a  ring  as  a  pledge,  "  which,"  says  she, 
"was  my  mother's  gift  on  her  death-bed,  enjoining  that, 
if  ever  I  married,  it  should  be  my  wedding-ring;"  by 
which  cunning  contrivance  she  was  delivered  from  the 
black  doctor  and  his  tawny  crew. 

The  indecency  of  these  practices,  and  the  facility 
they  afforded  for  accomplishing  forced  and  fraudulent 
marriages,  were  not  the  only  evils.  Marriages  could  be 
antedated,  without  limit,  on  payment  of  a  fee,  or  not 
entered  at  all.  Parties  could  be  married  without  declar- 
ing their  names.  Women  hired  temporary  husbands  at 
the  Fleet,  in  order  that  they  might  be  able  to  plead 


4 1  o  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

coverture  to  an  action  for  debt,  or  to  produce  a  certifi- 
cate in  case  of  their  being  enceinte.  These  hired 
husbands  were  provided  by  the  parson  for  five  shillings 
-each  ;  sometimes  they  were  women.  And  for  half-a- 
guinea  a  marriage  might  be  registered  and  certified  that 
never  took  place.  Sometimes  great  cruelty  was  prac- 
tised. In  17 19,  Mrs  Anne  Leigh,  an  heiress,  was 
decoyed  from  her  friends  in  Buckinghamshire,  married 
at  the  Fleet  Chapel  against  her  will,  and  barbarously 
ill-used  by  her  abductors. 

The  following  are  a  few  extracts  from  the  Register  of 
the  Fleet  Marriages  ; — 

"  1740.  Geo.  Grant  and  Ann  Gordon,  bachelor  and 
spinster :  stole  my  clothes-brush."  In  the  account  of 
another  marriage,  we  find,  "  Stole  a  silver  spoon." 

"  A  wedding  at  which  the  woman  ran  across  Ludgate 
Hill  in  her  shift,  'in  pursuance  of  a  vulgar  error  that  a 
man  was  not  liable  for  the  debts  of  his  wife  if  he  married 
her  in  this  dress,'  " 

"  Married  at  a  barber's  shop  next  Wilson's — viz., 
one  Kerrils,  for  half-a-guinea,  after  which  it  was  ex- 
torted out  of  my  pocket,  and  for  fear  of  my  life  de- 
livered." 

"  5  Nov.  1742  was  married  Benjamin  Richards,  in  the 
parish  of  St  Martin's-in-the-Fields,  BT  and  Judith  Lance, 
do.  sp.  at  the  Bull  and  Garter,  and  gave  [a  guinea]  for 
an  ante-date  to  March  ye  nth,  in  ye  same  year,  which 
Lilley  comply'd  with,  and  put  em  in  his  book  accord- 
ingly, there  being  a  vacancy  in  the  book  suitable  to  the 
time." 

"  Mr  Comyngs  gave  me  half-a-guinea  to  find  a  bride- 
groom, and  defray  all  expenses.  Parson  2s.  6d.  Hus- 
band  do.,    and    5s.    66.   myself.      [We   find    one   man 


Stories  of  Fleet  Marriages.  41 1 

married  four  times  under  different  names,  receiving  five 
shillings  on  each  occasion,  'for  his  trouble !"' 

"  1742,  May  24. — A  soldier  brought  a  barber  to  the 
Cock,  who,  I  think,  said  his  name  was  James,  barber  by 
trade,  was  in  part  married  to  Elizabeth  ;  they  said  they 
were  married  enough/' 

"A  coachman  came,  and  was  half-married,  and  would 
give  but  3s.  6d.,  and  went  off." 

"  Edward and  Elizabeth were  married,  and 

would  not  let  me  know  their  names." 

In  one  case,  the  parson  was  obliged  to  marry  a  couple 
in  terrorem:  but  "some. material  part  was  omitted." 

All  classes  flocked  to  the  Fleet  to  marry  in  haste, 
from  the  barber  to  the  officer  in  the  Guards — from  the 
pauper  to  the  peer  of  the  realm.  Among  the  aristo- 
cratic patrons  of  its  unlicenced  chapels  we  find  Lord 
Abergavenny  ;  the  Hon.  John  Bourke,  afterwards  Vis- 
count Mayo ;  Sir  Marmaduke  Grcsham  ;  Anthony 
Henley,  Esq.,  brother  of  Lord  Chancellor  Northington  ; 
Lord  Banff;  Lord  Montagu,  afterwards  Duke  of  Man- 
chester; Viscount  Sligo  ;  the  Marquis  of  Annandale  ; 
William  Shipp,  Esq.,  father  of  the  first  Lord  Mulgrave ; 
and  Henry  Fox,  afterwards  Lord  Holland,  of  whose 
marriage  Walpole  thus  writes  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  : — 
"  The  town  has  been  in  a  great  bustle  about  a  private 
match,  but  which,  by  the  ingenuity  of  the  Ministry,  has 
been  made  politics.  Mr  Fox  fell  in  love  with  Lady 
Caroline  Lenox  (eldest  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Rich- 
mond), asked  her,  was  refused,  and  stole  her.  Flis  father 
was  a  footman  ;  her  great-grandfather  a  king — Jiinc  illec 
laclirymcc  !     All  the  blood-royal  have  been  up  in  arms." 

In  the  Fleet,  the  errant  Edward  Wortley  Montague 
(Lady  Mary's  son)  was  married  ;  also  Charles  Churchill, 


4 1 2  Romance  of  L oudon. 

the  poet.  In  1702,  the  Bishop  of  London  interfered  to 
prevent  the  scandalous  practice,  but  with  little  effect; 
and  it  was  not  until  the  passing  of  the  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment, in  1754,  that  the  practice  was  put  an  end  to  :  on 
the  day  previously  (March  24),  in  one  register-book 
alone,  were  recorded  217  marriages,  the  last  of  the 
Fleet  weddings.  In  1S21,  a  collection  of  the  Registers 
of  Fleet  Marriages,  and  weighing  more  than  a  ton,  was 
purchased  by  the  Government,  and  deposited  in  the 
Bishop  of  London's  Registry,  Doctors'  Commons  :  the 
earliest  date  is  1674.  They  are  not  now,  as  formerly, 
received  in  evidence. 

After  the  Marriage  Bill  of  1754,  however,  the  Savoy 
Chapel  came  into  vogue.  On  January  2,  1754,  the 
Public  Advertiser  contained  this  advertisement :  "  By 
Authority. — Marriages  performed  with  the  utmost  pri- 
vacy, decency,  and  regularity,  at  the  Ancient  Royal 
Chapel  of  St  John  the  Baptist,  in  the  Savoy,  where 
regular  and  authentic  registers  have  been  kept  from 
the  time  of  the  Reformation  (being  two  hundred  years 
and  upwards)  to  this  day.  The  expense  not  more  than 
one  guinea,  the  five-shilling  stamp  included.  There 
are  five  private  ways  by  land  to  this  chapel,  and  two 
by  water."  The  proprietor  of  this  chapel  was  the  Rev. 
John  Wilkinson  (father  of  Tate  Wilkinson,  of  theatrical 
fame),  who  fancying  (as  the  Savoy  was  extra-parochial) 
that  he  was  privileged  to  issue  licences  upon  his  own 
authority,  took  no  notice  of  the  new  law.  In  1755,  he 
married  no  less  than  1190  couples.  The  authorities 
began  at  last  to  bestir  themselves,  and  Wilkinson 
thought  it  prudent  to  conceal  himself.  He  engaged  a 
curate,  named  Grierson,  to  perform  the  ceremony,  the 
licences  being  still  issued  by  himself,  by  which  arrange- 


Story  of  Richard  Lovelace.  4 1 3 

ment  he  thought  to  hold  his  assistant  harmless.  Among 
those  united  by  the  latter  were  two  members  of  the 
Drury  Lane  company.  Garrick,  obtaining  the  certifi- 
cate, made  such  use  of  it  that  Grierson  was  arrested, 
tried,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to  fourteen  years'  trans- 
portation, by  which  sentence  1400  marriages  were  de- 
clared void. 


Story  of  Richard  Lovelace. 

Richard  Lovelace,  one  of  the  most  elegant  of  the 
cavaliers  of  Charles  I.,  will  long  be  remembered  by  his 
divine  little  poem,  "  To  Althea,  from  Prison,"  which 
he   composed  in  the  Gate   House,  at  Westminster ;  it 

begins  with  : — 

"  When  Love  with  unconfined  wings 
Hovers  within  my  gates, 
And  my  divine  Althea  brings 
To  whisper  at  my  grates — 
When  I  lie  tangled  in  her  hair, 

And  fetter'd  in  her  eye, 
The  birds  that  wanton  in  the  air 
Know  no  such  liberty. 

•  *  •  •  •  • 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage, 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  tahe 

That  for  an  hermitage. 
If  I  am  freedom  in  my  love, 

And  in  my  soul  am  free  : 
Angels  alone,  that  soar  above, 

Enjoy  such  liberty." 

This  accomplished  man,  who  is  said  by  Wood  to  have 
been  in  his  youth  "  the  most  amiable  and  beautiful 
person  that  eye  ever  beheld,"  and  who  was  lamented 
by  Charles  Cotton  as  an  epitome  of  manly  virtue,  died 


4 1 4  Romance  of  L  ondon . 

at  a  poor  lodging  in  Gunpowder  Alley,  Shoe  Lane,  in 
1658,  an  object  of  charity. 

Leigh  Hunt,  with  the  fellow-feeling  of  a  poet,  says  : — 
"  He  (Lovelace)  had  been  imprisoned  by  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  lived  during  his  imprisonment  beyond  his 
income.  Wood  thinks  that  he  did  so  in  order  to  sup- 
port the  royal  cause,  and  out  of  generosity  to  deserving 
men  and  to  his  brothers.  He  then  went  into  the  ser- 
vice of  the  French  King,  returned  to  England  after 
being  wounded,  and  was  again  committed  to  prison, 
where  he  remained  till  the  King's  death,  when  he  was 
set  at  liberty.  Having  then,"  says  his  biographer, 
"  consumed  all  his  estate,  he  grew  very  melancholy 
(which  brought  him  at  length  into  a  consumption), 
became  very  poor  in  body  and  purse,  and  was  the 
object  of  charity,  went  in  ragged  clothes  (whereas, 
when  he  was  in  his  glory,  he  wore  cloth  of  gold  and 
silver),  and  mostly  lodged  in  obscure  and  dirty  places, 
more  befitting  the  worst  of  beggars  than  poorest  of 
servants,"  &c.  "  Geo.  Petty,  haberdasher  in  Fleet 
Street,"   says   John    Aubrey,   "  carried   20  shillings  to 

him   every    Monday  morning   from    Sir ■    Manny, 

and   Charles  Cotton;  Esq.,  for months  :  but  was 

never  repaid."  As  if  it  was  their  intention  he  should 
be !  Poor  Cotton,  in  the  excess  of  his  relish  of  life, 
lived  himself  to  be  in  want ;  perhaps  wanted  the  ten 
shillings  that  he  sent.  The  mistress  of  Lovelace  is 
reported  to  have  married  another  man,  supposing  him 
to  have  died  of  his  wounds  in  France.  Perhaps  this 
helped  to  make  him  careless  of  his  fortune  ;  but  it  is 
probable  that  his  habits  were  naturally  showy  and 
expensive.  Aubrey  says  he  was  proud.  He  was  ac- 
counted a  sort  of  minor  Sir  Philip  Sydney.     We  speak 


1 J  j  'ckerly  and  h  is  Countess.  4 1 5 

the  more  of  him,  not  only  on  account  of  his  poetry 
(which,  for  the  most  part,  displays  much  fancy,  injured 
by  want  of  selectness),  but  because  his  connection  with 
the  neighbourhood  probably  suggested  to  Richardson 
the  name  of  his  hero  in  Clarissa." 

Wycherly  and  his  Countess. 

In  lodcrinsrs  on  the  west  side  of  Bow  Street,  Covent 
Garden,  over  against  the  Cock  Tavern,  lived  Wycherly, 
the  dramatist,  with  his  wife,  the  Countess  of  Drogheda. 
Here  Wycherly  happened  to  be  ill  of  a  fever.  "  Dur- 
ing his  sickness  (says  his  biographer,  Cibber),  the  King 
(Charles  II.)  did  him  the  honour  of  a  visit;  when, 
finding  his  fever  indeed  abated,  but  his  body  extremely 
weakened,  and  his  spirits  miserably  shattered,  he  com- 
manded him  to  take  a  journey  to  the  south  of  France, 
believing  that  nothing  could  contribute  more  to  the 
restoring  his  former  state  of  health  than  the  gentle  air 
of  Montpelier  during  the  winter  season  :  at  the  same 
time,  the  King  assured  him,  that  as  soon  as  he  was  able 
to  undertake  the  journey,  he  would  order  five  hundred 
pounds  to  be  paid  him  to  defray  the  expenses  of  it. 

"  Mr  Wycherly  accordingly  went  to  France,  and 
returned  to  England  the  latter  end  of  the  spring  fol- 
lowing, with  his  health  entirely  restored.  The  King 
received  him  with  the  utmost  marks  of  esteem,  and 
shortly  after  told  him  he  had  a  son,  who  he  resolved 
should  be  educated  like  the  son  of  a  king,  and  that  he 
could  make  choice  of  no  man  so  proper  to  be  his 
governor  as  Mr  Wycherly  ;  and  that  for  this  service  he 
should  have  fifteen  hundred  pounds  a-ycar  allotted  to 
him  ;  the  King  also  added,  that  when  the  time  came 


41 6  Romance  of  London. 

that  his  office  should  cease,  he  would  take  care  to  make 
such  a  provision  for  him  as  should  set  him  above  the 
malice  of  the  world  and  fortune.  These  were  golden 
prospects  for  Mr  Wycherly,  but  they  were  soon  by  a 
cross  accident  dashed  to  pieces. 

"Soon  after  this  promise  of  his  Majesty's,  Mr  Dennis 
tells  us  that  Mr  Wycherly  went  down  to  Tunbridge,  to 
take  either  the  benefit  of  the  waters  or  the  diversions 
of  the  place,  when,  walking  one  clay  upon  the  Wells- 
walk  with  his  friend,  Mr  Fairbeard,  of  Gray's  Inn,  just 
as  he  came  up  to  the  bookseller's,  the  Countess  of 
Drogheda,  a  young  widow,  rich,  noble,  and  beautiful, 
came  up  to  the  bookseller  and  inquired  for  the  Plain 
Dealer.  '  Madam,'  says  Mr  Fairbeard,  '  since  you  are 
for  the  Plain  Dealer,  there  he  is  for  you/  pushing  Mr 
Wycherly  towards  her.  '  Yes,'  says  Mr  Wycherly, 
'  this  lady  can  bear  plain-dealing,  for  she  appears  to  be 
so  accomplished,  that  what  would  be  a  compliment  to 
others,  when  said  to  her  would  be  plain  dealing.'  '  No, 
truly,  sir,'  said  the  lady,  '  I  am  not  without  my  faults 
more  than  the  rest  of  my  sex  ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding 
all  my  faults,  I  love  plain-dealing,  and  am  never  more 
fond  of  it  than  when  it  tells  me  of  a  fault.'  '  Then, 
madam,'  says  Mr  Fairbeard,  '  you  and  the  plain  dealer 
seem  designed  by  heaven  for  each  other.'  In  short,  Mr 
Wycherly  accompanied  her  upon  the  walks,  waited  upon 
her  home,  visited  her  daily  at  her  lodgings  whilst  she 
stayed  at  Tunbridge  ;  and  after  she  went  to  London,  at 
her  lodgings  in  Hatton  Garden  :  where,  in  a  little  time, 
he  obtained  her  consent  to  marry  her.  This  he  did,  by 
his  father's  command,  without  acquainting  the  King; 
for  it  was  reasonably  supposed,  that  the  lady's  having 
a   great  independent  estate,   and   noble    and    powerful 


[  I  j 'dicrly  and  his  Countess.  4 1 7 

relations,  the  acquainting  the  King  with  the  intended 
match  would  be  the  likeliest  way  to  prevent  it.  As 
soon  as  the  news  was  known  at  court,  it  was  looked 
upon  as  an  affront  to  the  King,  and  a  contempt  of  his 
Majesty's  orders ;  and  Mr  Wycherly's  conduct  after 
marrying  made  the  resentment  fall  heavier  upon  him ; 
for  being  conscious  he  had  given  offence,  and  seldom 
going  near  the  court,  his  absence  was  construed  into 
ingratitude." 

"The  Countess,  though  a  splendid  wife,  was  not 
formed  to  make  a  husband  happy ;  she  was  in  her 
nature  extremely  jealous  ;  and  indulged  in  it  to  such  a 
decree,  that  she  could  not  endure  her  husband  should 
be  one  moment  out  of  her  sight.  Their  lodgings  were 
over  against  the  Cock  Tavern,  whither,  if  Mr  Wycherly 
at  any  time  went,  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  windows 
open,  that  his  lady  might  see  there  was  no  woman  in 
the  company." 

"  The  Countess,"  says  another  writer,  '<  made  him 
some  amends  by  dying  in  a  reasonable  time."  His  title 
to  her  fortune,  however,  was  disputed,  and  his  circum- 
stances, though  he  had  property,  were  always  con- 
strained. He  was  rich  enough,  however,  to  marry  a 
young  woman  eleven  days  before  he  died  ;  but  his 
widow  had  no  child  to  succeed  to  the  property.  In  his 
old  age  he  became  acquainted  with  Pope,  then  a  youth, 
who  vexed  him  by  taking  him  at  his  word,  when  asked 
to  correct  his  poetry.  Wycherly  showed  a  candid 
horror  at  growing  old,  natural  enough  to  a  man  who 
had  been  one  of  the  gayest  of  the  gay,  very  handsome, 
and  a  "  Captain."  He  was  captain  in  the  regiment  of 
which  Buckingham  was  colonel. 

Wycherly's  acquaintance  with  the  Duchess  of  Clevc- 

VOL.  I.  2D 


4 1 8  Romance  of  L  oiidon. 

land  commenced  oddly  enough.  One  day,  as  he  passed 
the  Duchess's  coach,  in  the  Ring-,  in  Hyde  Park,  she 
leaned  from  the  window  and  cried  out,  loud  enough  to 
be  heard  distinctly  by  him,  "  Sir,  you  're  a  rascal  ;  you  're 
a  villain  "  [alluding  to  a  song  in  his  first  play].  Wy. 
cherly,  from  that  instant,  entertained  hopes. 

Story  of  Beau  Fielding. 

Beau  Fielding  was  thought  worthy  of  record  by  Sir 
Richard  Steele,  as  an  extraordinary  instance  of  the 
effects  of  personal  vanity  upon  a  man  not  without  wit. 
He  was  of  the  noble  family  of  Fielding,  and  was  re- 
markable for  the  beauty  of  his  person,  which  was  a 
mixture  of  the  Hercules  and  the  Adonis.  It  is  de- 
scribed as  having  been  a  real  model  of  perfection.  He 
married  for  his  first  wife  the  Dowager  Countess  of 
Purbeck;  followed  the  fortunes  of  James  II.,  who  is 
supposed  to  have  made  him  a  major-general,  and  per- 
haps a  count ;  returned,  married  a  woman  of  the  name 
of  Wadsworth,  under  the  impression  that  she  was  a  lady 
of  fortune ;  and,  discovering  his  error,  addressed  or 
accepted  the  addresses  of  the  notorious  Duchess  of 
Cleveland,  and  married  her ;  but  she,  discovering  her 
mistake  in  time,  indicted  him  for  bigamy,  and  obtained 
a  divorce.  Before  he  left  England  to  follow  James, 
"  Handsome  Fielding,"  as  he  was  called,  appears  to 
have  been  insane  with  vanity  and  perverse  folly.  He 
always  appeared  in  an  extraordinary  dress  ;  sometimes 
rode  in  an  open  tumbril,  of  less  size  than  ordinary,  the 
better  to  display  the  nobleness  of  his  person  ;  and  his 
footmen  appeared  in  liveries  of  yellow,  with  black 
feathers  in  their  hats,  and  black  sashes.     When  people 


Story  of  B can  Fielding.  419 

laughed  at  him,  he  refuted  them,  as  Steele  says,  "by 
only  moving."  Sir  Richard  says  he  saw  him  one  day 
stop  and  call  the  boys  about  him,  to  whom  he  spoke  as 
follows  : — 

"  Good  youths, — Go  to  school,  and  do  not  lose  your 
time  in  following  my  wheels  ;  I  am  loth  to  hurt  you, 
because  I  know  not  but  you  are  all  my  own  offspring. 
Hark  ye,  you  sirrah  with  the  white  hair,  I  am  sure  you 
are  mine,  there  is  half-a-crown  for  you.  Tell  your 
mother,  this,  with  the  other  half-crown  I  gave  her,  .  .  . 
comes  to  five  shillings.  Thou  hast  cost  me  all  that,  and 
yet  thou  art  good  for  nothing.  Why,  you  young  dogs, 
did  you  never  see  a  man  before  ? "  "  Never  such  a  one 
as  you,  noble  general,"  replied  a  truant  from  Westmin- 
ster. "  Sirrah,  I  believe  thee  ;  there  is  a  crown  for  thee. 
Drive  on,  coachman."  Swift  puts  him  in  his  list  of 
Mean  Figures,  as  one  who  "  at  fifty  years  of  age,  when 
he  was  wounded  in  a  quarrel  upon  the  stage,  opened  his 
breast  and  showed  the  wound  to  the  ladies,  that  he 
might  move  their  love  and  pity ;  but  they  all  fell  a 
laughing."  His  vanity,  which  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  assisted  by  courage,  sometimes  got  him  into 
danger.  He  is  said  to  have  been  caned  and  wounded 
by  a  Welsh  gentleman,  in  the  theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields  ;  and  pressing  forward  once  at  a  benefit  of  Mrs 
Oldfield's,  "  to  show  himself,"  he  trod  on  Mr  Fulwood, 
a  barrister,  who  gave  him  a  wound  twelve  inches  deep." 
"  His  fortune,  which  he  ruined  by  early  extravagance,  he 
thought  to  have  repaired  by  his  marriage  with  Mrs 
Wadsworth,  and  endeavoured  to  do  so  by  gambling  ; 
but  he  succeeded  in  neither  attempt,  and  after  the  short- 
lived splendour  with  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  returned 
to  his  real  wife,  whom  he  pardoned,  and  died  under  her 


420  Romance  of  London. 

care.  During  the  height  of  his  magnificence,  he  carried 
his  madness  so  far,  according  to  Steele,  as  to  call  for 
his  tea  by  beat  of  drum  ;  his  valet  got  ready  to  shave 
him  by  a  trumpet  to  horse  ;  and  water  was  brought  for 
his  teeth,  when  the  sound  was  changed  to  boots  and 
saddle." 

Beau  Wilson. 

ONE  of  the  gayest  men  about  town  towards  the  end  of 
the  reign  of  William  III.,  was  a  young  man  of  fashion 
who  lived  in  the  most  expensive  style :  his  house  was 
sumptuously  furnished  ;  his  dress  was  costly  and  extra- 
vagant ;  his  hunters,  hacks,  and  racers  were  the  best 
procurable  for  money ;  and  he  kept  a  table  of  regal 
hospitality.  Now,  all  this  was  done  without  any  osten- 
sible means.  All  that  was  known  of  him  was,  that  his 
name  was  Edward  Wilson,  and  that  he  was  the  fifth  son 
of  Thomas  Wilson,  Esq.,  of  Keythorpe,  Leicestershire, 
an  impoverished  gentleman.  Beau  Wilson,  as  he  was 
called,  is  described  by  Evelyn  as  a  very  young  gentle- 
man, "  civil  and  good-natured,  but  of  no  great  force  of 
understanding,"  and  "  very  sober  and  of  good  fame."  He 
redeemed  his  father's  estate,  and  portioned  off  his  sisters. 
When  advised  by  a  friend  to  invest  some  of  his  money 
while  he  could,  he  replied,  that  however  long  his  life 
might  last,  he  should  always  be  able  to  maintain  him- 
self in  the  same  manner,  and  therefore  had  no  need 
to  take  care  for  the  future. 

All  attempts  to  discover  his  secret  were  vain ;  in  his 
most  careless  hours  of  amusement  he  kept  a  strict  guard 
over  his  tongue,  and  left  the  scandalous  world  to  con- 
jecture what  it  pleased.      Some   good-natured   people 


Beau  Wilson.  421 

said  he  had  robbed  the  Holland  mail  of  a  quantity  of 
jewellery,  an  exploit  for  which  another  man  had  suffered 
death.  Others  said  he  was  supplied  by  the  Jews,  for 
what  purpose  they  did  not  care  to  say.  It  was  plain  he 
did  not  depend  upon  the  gaming-table,  for  he  never 
played  but  for  small  sums. 

How  long  he  might  have  pursued  his  mysterious 
career,  it  is  impossible  to  say  :  it  was  cut  short  by 
another  remarkable  man  on  the  9th  of  April  1694.  On 
that  day,  Wilson  and  a  friend,  one  Captain  Wightman, 
were  at  the  Fountain  Tavern,  in  the  Strand,  in  company 
with  the  celebrated  John  Law,  who  was  then  a  man  about 
town.  Law  left  them,  and  the  captain  and  Wilson  took 
coach  to  Bloomsbury  Square.  Here  Wilson  alighted, 
and  Law  reappeared  on  the  scene ;  as  soon  as  they  met, 
both  drew  their  swords,  and  after  one  pass,  the  Beau  fell, 
wounded  in  the  stomach,  and  died  without  speaking  a 
sinele  word.  Law  was  arrested,  and  tried  at  the  Old 
Bailey  for  murder.  The  cause  of  the  quarrel  did  not  then 
come  out,  but  Evelyn  says:  "The  quarrel  arose  from  his 
(Wilson's)  taking  away  his  own  sister  from  lodging  in  a 
house  where  this  Law  had  a  mistress,  which  the  mistress 
of  the  house,  thinking  a  disparagement  to  it,  and  losing  by 
it.  instigated  Law  to  this  duel."  Law  declared  the  meet- 
ing  was  accidental,  but  some  threatening  letters  from 
him  to  Wilson  were  produced  on  the  trial,  and  the  jury, 
believing  that  the  duel  was  unfairly  conducted,  found 
him  guilty  of  murder,  and  he  was  condemned  to  death. 
The  sentence  was  commuted  to  a  fine,  on  the  ground 
of  the  offence  amounting  only  to  manslaughter  ;  but 
Wilson's  brother  appealed  against  this,  and  while  the 
case  was  pending  a  hearing,  Law  contrived  to  escape 
from  the  King's  Bench,  and  reached  the  Continent  in 


422  Romance  of  London. 

safety,  notwithstanding  a  reward  offered  for  his  appre- 
hension.    He  ultimately  received  a  pardon  in  17 19. 

Those  who  expected  Wilson's  death  would  clear  up 
the  mystery  attached  to  his  life,  were  disappointed.  He 
left  only  a  few  pounds  behind  him,  and  not  a  scrap  of 
evidence  to  enlighten  public  curiosity  as  to  the  origin  of 
his  mysterious  resources. 

While  Law  was  in  exile,  an  anonymous  work  appeared 
which  professed  to  solve  the  riddle.  This  was  The 
Unknown  Lady 's  Pacquct  of  Letters,  published  with  the 
Countess  of  Dunois'  Memoirs  of  the  Court  of  England 
(1708),  the  author,  or  authoress,  of  which  pretends  to 
have  derived  her  information  from  an  elderly  gentle- 
woman, "  who  had  been  a  favourite  in  a  late  reign  of  the 
then  she-favourite,  but  since  abandoned  by  her."  Ac- 
cording to  her  account,  the  Duchess  of  Orkney  (William 
III.'s  mistress)  accidentally  met  Wilson  in  St  James's 
Park,  incontinently  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  took  him 
under  her  protection.  The  royal  favourite  was  no 
niggard  to  her  lover,  but  supplied  him  with  funds  to 
enable  him  to  shine  in  the  best  society,  he  undertaking 
to  keep  faithful  to  her,  and  promising  not  to  attempt  to 
discover  her  identity.  After  a  time,  she  grew  weary  of 
her  expensive  toy,  and  alarmed  lest  his  curiosity  should 
overpower  his  discretion,  and  bring  her  to  ruin.  This 
fear  was  not  lessened  by  his  accidental  discovery  of  her 
secret.  She  broke  off  the  connection,  but  assured  him 
that  he  should  never  want  for  money,  and  with  this 
arrangement  he  was  forced  to  be  content.  The  "  elderly 
gentlewoman,"  however,  does  not  leave  matters  here,  but 
brings  a  terrible  charge  against  her  quondam  patroness. 
She  says,  that  having  one  evening,  by  her  mistress'  orders, 
conducted   a  stranger  to  her  apartment,  she  took  the 


The  Unfortunate  Roxana.  423 

liberty  of  playing  eaves-dropper,  and  heard  the  Duchess 
open  her  strong  box  and  say  to  the  visitor :  "  Take  this, 
and,  your  work  done,  depend  upon  another  thousand 
and  my  favour  for  ever ! "  Soon  afterwards  poor  Wilson 
met  his  death.  The  confidant  went  to  Law's  trial,  and 
was  horrified  to  recognise  in  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  the 
very  man  to  whom  her  mistress  addressed  those  mys- 
terious words.  Law's  pardon  she  attributes  to  the  lady's 
influence  with  the  King-,  and  his  escape  to  the  free  use 
of  her  gold  with  his  jailers.  Whether  this  story  was  a 
pure  invention,  or  whether  it  was  founded  upon  fact,  it 
is  impossible  to  determine.  Beau  Wilson's  life  and  death 
must  remain  among  unsolved  mysteries.  This  compact 
story  is  from  Chambers's  Book  of  Days. 

The  Unfortunate  Roxana. 

One  of  the  earliest  female  performers  was  an  actress  at 
the  theatre  at  Vere  Street.  Her  name  is  not  ascertained, 
but  she  attained  an  unfortunate  celebrity  in  the  part  of 
Roxana,  in  the  Siege  of  Rhodes.  She  fell  a  victim  to 
Aubrey  de  Vere,  the  last  Earl  of  Oxford  of  that  name, 
under  the  guise  of  a  private  marriage.  The  story  is  told 
by  Grammont,  who,  though  apocryphal,  pretends  to  say 
nothing  on  the  subject  in  which  he  is  not  borne  out  by 
other  writers.  His  lively  account  may  be  laid  before 
the  reader. 

"The  Earl  of  Oxford,"  says  one  of  Grammont's 
heroines,  "  fell  in  love  with  a  handsome,  graceful  actress, 
belonging  to  the  Duke's  theatre,  who  performed  to  per- 
fection, particularly  the  part  of  Roxana  in  a  very 
fashionable  new  play,  insomuch  that  she  ever  after 
retained    that    name.     This   creature   being   both  very 


424  Romance  of  London. 

virtuous  and  very  modest,  or,  if  you  please,  wonderfully 
obstinate,  proudly  rejected  the  presents  and  addresses 
of  the  Earl  of  Oxford.  The  resistance  inflamed  his 
passion  ;  he  had  recourse  to  invectives  and  even  spells ; 
but  all  in  vain.  This  disappointment  had  such  an  effect 
upon  him  that  he  could  neither  eat  nor  drink ;  this  did 
not  signify  to  him  ;  but  his  passion  at  length  became  so 
violent  that  he  could  neither  play  nor  smoke.  In  this 
extremity,  Love  had  recourse  to  Hymen  ;  the  Earl  of 
Oxford,  one  of  the  first  peers  of  the  realm,  is,  you  know, 
a  very  handsome  man  ;  he  is  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter, 
which  greatly  adds  to  an  air  naturally  noble.  In  short, 
from  his  outward  appearance,  you  would  suppose  he  was 
really  possessed  of  some  sense  ;  but  as  soon  as  ever  you 
hear  him  speak,  you  are  perfectly  convinced  to  the  con- 
trary. This  passionate  lover  presented  her  with  a 
promise  of  marriage,  in  due  form,  signed  with  his  own 
hand  ;  she  would  not,  however,  rely  upon  this  ;  but  the 
next  day  she  thought  there  could  be  no  danger,  when 
the  Earl  himself  came  to  her  lodgings  attended  by  a 
sham  parson,  and  another  man  for  a  witness.  The 
marriage  was  accordingly  solemnised  with  all  due  cere- 
monies, in  the  presence  of  one  of  her  fellow-players,  who 
attended  as  a  witness  on  her  part.  You  will  suppose, 
perhaps,  that  the  new  countess  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
appear  at  court  according  to  her  rank,  and  to  display 
the  Earl's  arms  upon  her  carriage.  This  was  far  from 
beine  the  case.  When  examination  was  made  concern- 
ing  the  marriage,  it  was  found  to  be  a  mere  deception  ; 
it  appeared  that  the  pretended  priest  was  one  of  my 
Lord's  trumpeters,  and  the  witness  his  kettle-drummer. 
The  parson  and  his  companion  never  appeared  after  the 
ceremony  was  over ;  and  as  for  the  other  witness,  he 


Jill's  Centlivre,  and  Iter  TJircc  Husbands.         425 

endeavoured  to  persuade  her  that  the  Sultana  Roxana 
might  have  supposed,  in  some  part  or  other  of  a  play, 
that  she  was  really  married.  It  was  all  to  no  purpose 
that  the  poor  creature  claimed  the  protection  of  the 
laws  of  God  and  man,  both  which  were  violated  and 
abused,  as  well  as  herself,  by  this  infamous  imposi- 
tion ;  in  vain  did  she  throw  herself  at  the  King's  feet  to 
demand  justice,  she  had  only  to  rise  up  again  without 
redress  ;  and  happy  might  she  think  herself  to  receive 
an  annuity  of  one  thousand  crowns,  and  to  resume  the 
name  of  Roxana,  instead  of  Countess  of  Oxford." 

Mrs  Centlivre,  and  Jier  Three  Husbands. 

In  Spring  Gardens,  Dec.  1,  1723,  died  Mrs  Centlivre, 
the  sprightly  authoress  of  the  Wonder,  the  Busy  Body, 
and  the  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife.  She  was  buried  at  St 
Martin's-in-the-Fields.  She  is  said  to  have  been  a 
beauty,  an  accomplished  linguist,  and  a  good-natured, 
friendly  woman.  Pope  put  her  in  his  Dunciad,  for 
having  written,  it  is  said,  a  ballad  against  his  Homer 
when  she  was  a  child  !  But  the  probability  is,  that  she 
was  too  intimate  with  Steele  and  other  friends  of 
Addison  while  the  irritable  poet  was  at  variance  with 
them.  It  is  not  impossible,  also,  that  some  raillery  of 
hers  might  have  been  applied  to  him,  not  very  pleasant 
from  a  beautiful  woman  against  a  man  of  his  personal 
infirmities,  who  was  naturally  jealous  of  not  being  well 
with  the  sex.  Mrs  Centlivre  is  said  to  have  been 
seduced  when  young  by  Anthony  Hammond,  father  of 
the  author  of  the  Love  Elegies,  who  took  her  to  Cam- 
bridge with  him  in  boy's  clothes.  Thfs  did  not  hinder  her 
from  marrying  a  nephew  of  Sir  Stephen  Fox,  who  died 


426  Romance  of  London. 

a  year  thereafter,  nor  from  having  two  husbands  after- 
wards. Her  second  was  an  officer  in  the  army,  of  the 
name  of  Carrol,  who,  to  her  great  sorrow,  was  killed  in 
a  duel.  Her  third  husband,  Mr  Centlivre,  who  had  the 
formidable  title  of  Yeoman  of  the  Mouth,  being  principal 
cook  to  Queen  Anne,  fell  in  love  with  her  when  she  was 
performing  the  part  of  Alexander  the  Great,  at  Windsor; 
for  she  Avas  at  one  time  an  actress,  though  she  never 
performed  in  London.  Her  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife  was 
pre-condemned  by  Wilks,  who  said,  coarsely  enough, — 
"  not  only  would  her  play  be  damned,  but  she  herself 
for  writing  it."  ' 

Stolen  Marriages  at  KuigJitsbridge. 

On  the  western  outskirts  of  the  metropolis,  at  Knights- 
bridge,  formerly  stood  a  little  building  called  Trinity 
Chapel,  near  the  French  Embassy,  on  the  site  of  a  lazar- 
house,  or  hospital,  the  foundation  of  which  is  hidden  in 
obscurity  :  what  is  more  remarkable,  it  is  not  exactly 
known  when  the  hospital  ceased  to  exist ;  the  last  allu- 
sion to  it  is  in  1720.  The  chapel  itself,  built  in  1699, 
and  refaced  in  1789,  has  been  replaced  by  a  more 
ecclesiastical  structure.  This  was  one  of  the  places 
where  irregular  marriages  were  solemnised,  and  it  is 
accordingly  often  noticed  by  the  old  dramatists.  Thus, 
in  Shadwell's  Sullen  Lovers,  Lovell  is  made  to  say, 
"Let's  dally  no  longer;  there  is  a  person  at  Knights- 
bridge  that  yokes  all  stray  people  together  ;  we  '11  to  him, 
he  '11  despatch  us  presently,  and  send  us  away  as  lovingly 
as  any  two  fools  that  ever  yet  were  condemned  to  mar- 
riage." Some  of  the  entries  in  this  marriage  register  are 
suspicious  enough— "secrecy  for  life,"  or  "great  secrecy," 


HThe  Handsome  Englishman?  427 

or  "  secret  for  fourteen  years,"  being  appended  to  the 
names.  Mr  Davis,  in  his  Memorials  of  Knightsbridge, 
was  the  first  to  exhume  from  this  document  the  name  of 
the  adventuress,  "  Mrs  Mary  Ayiif,"  whom  Sir  Samuel 
Morland  married  as  his  fourth  wife,  in  1687.  Readers 
of  Pepys  will  remember  how  pathetically  Morland  wrote, 
eighteen  days  after  the  wedding,  that  when  he  had 
expected  to  marry  an  heiress,  "  I  was,  about  a  fortnight 
since,  led  as  a  fool  to  the  stocks,  and  married  a  coach- 
man's daughter  not  worth  a  shilling."  In  1699,  an  entry 
mentions  one  "  Storey  at  ye  Park  Gate."  This  worthy 
it  was  who  gave  his  name  to  what  is  now  known  as 
Story's  Gate.  He  was  keeper  of  the  Aviary  to  Charles 
II.,  whence  was  derived  the  name  of  the  Birdcage  Walk. 
In  the  same  year,  "  Cornelius  Van  der  Velde,  Limner," 
was  married  here  to  Bernada  Vander  Hagen.  This  was 
a  brother  of  the  famous  William  Van  der  Velde,  the 
elder,  and  himself  a  painter  of  nautical  pictures,  in  the 
employment  of  Charles  II. — Saturday  Review. 


1 1 


The  Handsome  Englishman" 


<b 


! 


ABOUT  the  year  1730,  Mr  Edward  Walpole  (afterwards 
Sir  Edward,  and  brother  of  Horace  Walpole)  returned 
from  his  travels  on  the  Continent,  where  the  liberality 
of  his  father,  the  famous  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  had 
enabled  him  to  make  a  brilliant  figure  ;  through  his 
gallantries  he  had  no  other  appellation  in  Italy  than 
"  the  handsome  Englishman."  On  his  return  to  London, 
Mr  Walpole  had  lodgings  taken  for  him  at  a  Mrs 
Rennie's,  a  child's  coat  maker,  at  the  bottom  of  Pall 
Mall.  On  returning  from  visits,  or  public  places,  he 
often    passed    a   quarter  of  an  hour  in  chat   with  the 


428  Romance  of  London. 

young  women  of  the  shop.  Among  them  was  one  who 
had  it  in  her  power  to  make  him  forget  the  Italians,  and 
even  the  beauties  of  the  English  court.  Her  name  was 
Mary  Clement ;  her  father  was,  at  that  time  or  soon 
after,  postmaster  of  Darlington,  a  place  of  £50  per 
annum,  on  which  he  supported  a  large  family.  This 
young  woman  had  been  apprenticed  to  Mrs  Rennie,  and 
discharged  her  duties  with  honesty  and  sobriety.  Her 
parents,  however,  from  their  small  means,  could  supply 
her  very  sparingly  with  clothes  or  money.  Mr  Walpole 
observed  her  wants,  and  made  her  small  presents  in  a 
way  not  to  alarm  the  vigilance  of  her  mistress,  who 
exacted  the  strictest  morality  from  the  young  persons 
under  her  care.  Miss  Clement  is  described  as  beautiful 
as  an  angel,  with  good  but  uncultivated  sense.  Mrs 
Rennie  had  begun  to  suspect  that  a  connection  was 
forming  which  would  not  tend  to  the  honour  of  her 
apprentice.  She  apprised  Mr  Clement  of  her  suspicions; 
he  immediately  came  up  to  town,  met  his  daughter  with 
tears,  expressed  his  fears  ;  adding  that  he  should  take 
her  home,  where,  by  living  prudently,  she  might  chance 
to  be  married  to  some  decent  tradesman.  The  girl 
apparently  acquiesced  ;  but,  whilst  her  father  and  her 
mistress  were  conversing  in  a  little  dark  parlour  behind 
the  shop,  the  object  of  their  cares  slipped  out,  and, 
without,  hat  or  cloak,  ran  directly  through  Pall  Mall  to 
Sir  Edward  Walpole's  house,  at  the  top  of  the  street, 
where,  the  porter  knowing  her,  she  was  admitted,  though 
the  master  was  absent.  She  went  into  the  parlour, 
where  the  table  was  laid  for  dinner,  and  impatiently 
awaited  Sir  Edward's  return.  The  moment  came— he 
entered,  and  was  heard  to  exclaim  with  great  joy — 
"  You   here  !  "      What  explanation  took  place  was  in 


"  The  Handsome  Englishman"  429 

private ;  but  the  fair  fugitive  sat  down  that  day,  and 
never  after  left  it. 

The  fruits  of  this  connection  were  Mrs  Keppel, 
Maria,  afterwards  Lady  Waldegrave,  and  subsequently 
Duchess  of  Gloucester ;  Lady  Dysart,  and  Colonel 
Walpole,  in  the  birth  of  whom,  or  soon  after,  the  mother 
died.  Never  could  fondness  exceed  that  which  Sir 
Edward  cherished  for  the  mother  of  his  children  ;  nor 
was  it  confined  to  her  or  them  only,  since  he  provided 
in  some  way  or  other  for  all  her  relations.  His  grief 
at  his  loss  was  great ;  he  repeatedly  declined  overtures 
of  marriage,  and  gave  up  his  life  to  the  education  of  his 
children.  He  had  been  prompted  to  unite  himself  to 
Miss  Clement,  by  legal  ties,  but  the  threats  of  his  father, 
Sir  Robert,  prevented  his  marriage;  the  statesman 
avowing-  that  if  he  married  Miss  Clement,  he  would  not 
only  deprive  him  of  his  political  interest,  but  exert  it 
against  him.-  It  was,  however,  said  by  persons  who  had 
opportunity  of  knowing,  that  had  Miss  Clement  sur- 
vived Sir  Robert,  she  would  then  have  been  Lady 
Walpole.  * 

About  the  year  1758,  the  eldest  daughter,  Laura, 
became  the  wife  of  the  Honourable  and  Reverend 
Frederick  Keppel,  brother  to  the  Earl  of  Albemarle, 
and  afterwards  Bishop  of  Exeter.  The  Misses  Walpole 
now  took  high  rank  in  society.  The  sisters  of  Lord 
Albemarle  were  their  constant  companions  ;  introduced 
them  to  persons  of  quality  and  fashion  ;  in  a  word,  they 
were  received  everywhere  but  at  court.  The  shade 
attending  their  birth  shut  them  out  from  the  drawing- 
room  till  marriage,  as  in  the  case  of  Mrs  Keppel,  had 
covered  the  defect,  and  given  them  the  rank  of  another 
family.      The   second   daughter   of    the    above    union, 


430  Romance  of  London. 

Laura,  married  in  1784.  "  One  of  my  hundred  nieces," 
says  Horace  Walpole,  "  has  just  married  herself  by  an 
expedition  to  Scotland.  It  is  Mrs  Keppel's  second 
daughter,  a  beautiful  girl,  and  more  universally  admired 
than  her  sister  or  cousins,  the  Waldegraves.  For  such 
an  exploit  her  choice  is  not  a  very  bad  one  ;  the  swain 
is  eldest  son  of  Lord  Southampton.  Mrs  Keppel  has 
been  persuaded  to  pardon  her,  but  Lady  Southampton 
is  inexorable  ;  nor  can  I  quite  blame  her,  for  she  has 
thirteen  other  children,  and  a  fortune  was  very  requisite  ; 
but  both  the  bride  and  the  bridegroom  are  descendants 
from  Charles  II.,  from  whom  they  probably  inherit 
stronger  impulses  than  a  spirit  of  collateral  calculation." 
Lord  Southampton  was  grandson  of  the  Duke  of  Graf- 
ton ;  the  Bishop  of  Exeter's  mother  was  Lady  Anne 
Lenox,  daughter  of  the  first  Duke  of  Richmond. 

No  one  had  watched  the  progress  of  Sir  Edward 
Walpole's  family  upwards  with  more  anxiety  than  the 
Earl  Waldegrave,  who,  though  one  of  the  proudest 
noblemen  in  the  kingdom,  had  long  cherished  a  passion 
for  Maria  Walpole.  The  struggle  between  his  passion 
and  his  pride  was  not  a  short  one ;  and  having  con- 
quered his  own  difficulties,  it  now  only  remained  to 
attack  the  lady,  who  had  no  prepossession  ;  and  Lord 
Waldegrave,  though  not  young,  was  not  disagreeable. 
They  were  married  in  1759,  and  had  issue  three  daugh- 
ters ;  Elizabeth  Laura,  married  to  her  cousin  ;  George, 
fourth  Earl  Waldegrave ;  Charlotte  Maria,  married  to 
George,  Duke  of  Grafton  ;  and  Anne  Horatio,  married 
to  Lord  Hugh  Seymour.  In  April  1763,  Earl  Walde- 
grave died  of  small-pox,  and  his  lady  found  herself  a 
young  widow.  Had  Lord  Waldegrave  possessed  every 
advantage  of  youth  and   person,   his  death  could  not 


"  The  Handsome  Englishman. "  43 1 

have  been  more  sincerely  regretted  by  his  amiable 
relict.  Again  she  emerged  into  the  world  ;  she  refused 
several  offers  ;  amongst  others,  the  Duke  of  Portland 
loudly  proclaimed  his  discontent  at  her  refusal.  But 
the  daughter  of  Mary  Clement  was  destined  for  royalty  ; 
and  it  became  within  the  bounds  of  probability  that  the 
descendants  of  the  postmaster  of  Darlington,  and  Mary 
Clement,  the  milliner  of  Pall  Mall,  might  one  day  have 
swayed  the  British  sceptre.  Lady  Waldegrave,  after 
the  Earl's  decease,  became  the  wife  of  His  Royal  High- 
ness William  Henry,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  by  whom  she 
was  mother  of  the  late  Duke  of  Gloucester,  and  of  the 
Princess  Sophia  of  Gloucester. 

Horace  Walpole  has  recorded  some  amusing  traits  of 
his  brother,  Sir  Edward,  who  had  a  house  at  Englefield 
Green,  and  is  styled  by  Horace,  "  Baron  of  Englefield." 
"  He  is  very  agreeable  and  good-humoured,  has  some 
very  pretty  children,  and  a  sensible  and  learned  man 
that  lives  with  him,  one  Dr  Thirlby,  who,  while  in  Sir 
Edward's  house,  is  said  to  have  kept  a  miscellaneous 
book  of  Memorables,  containing  whatever  was  said  or 
done  amiss  by  Sir  Edward,  or  any  part  of  his  family. 
The  master  of  the  house,"  says  Horace,  "plays  extremely 
well  on  the  bass-viol,  and  has  generally  musical  people 
with  him."  As  to  personal  acquaintance  with  any  of 
the  Court  beauties,  little  could  be  said;  but  to  make 
amends,  he  was  perfectly  master  of  all  the  quarrels  that 
had  been  fashionably  on  foot  about  Handel,  and  could 
give  a  very  perfect  account  of  all  the  rival  modern 
painters.  He  was  the  first  patron  of  Roubiliac,  the 
sculptor,  who,  when  a  young  man,  chanced  to  find  a 
pocket-book  containing  a  considerable  number  of  bank- 
notes, and  some  papers,  apparently  of  consequence  to 


432  Romance  of  London. 

the  owner,  Sir  Edward  Walpole,  the  prompt  return  of 
which  was  gracefully  acknowledged  by  Sir  Edward's 
commissions  to  the  young  sculptor.  Horace  Walpole 
did  not  live  on  good  terms  with  his  brother ;  for  he  says 
— "  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  the  Baron  of  Engle- 
field  has  such  an  aversion  for  as  for  his  brother." 

Horace,  writing  January  8,  1784,  says  : — {i  My  brother, 
Sir  Edward,  is,  I  fear,  dying  :  yesterday  we  had  no 
hopes;  a  sort  of  glimmering  to-day,  but  scarcely 
enough  to  be  called  a  ray  of  hope.  He  has,  for  a 
great  number  of  years,  enjoyed  perfect  health,  and  even 
great  beauty,  without  a  wrinkle,  to  seventy-seven  ;  but 
last  August  his  decline  began  by  an  aversion  to  all 
solids.  He  came  to  town  in  the  beginning  of  Novem- 
ber;  his  appetite  totally  left  him;  and  in  a  week  he 
became  a  very  infirm,  wrinkled  old  man.  We  think 
that  he  imagined  he  could  cure  himself  by  almost  total 
abstinence.  With  great  difficulty  he  was  persuaded  to 
try  the  bark ;  it  restored  some  appetite,  and  then  he 
would  take  no  more.  In  a  word,  he  has  starved  him- 
self to  death,  and  is  now  so  emaciated  and  weak,  that 
it  is  almost  impossible  he  should  be  saved,  especially  as 
his  obstinacy  continues  ;  nor  will  he  be  persuaded  to 
take  sustenance  enough  to  give  him  a  chance,  though 
he  is  sensible  of  his  danger,  and  cool,  tranquil,  per- 
fectly in  his  senses  as  ever.  A  cordial,  a  little  whey,  a 
dish  of  tea,  it  costs  in  all  infinite  pains  to  induce  him 
to  swallow.  I  much  doubt  whether  entire  tractability 
could  save  him  !  " 

Walpole,  in  another  letter,  remarks  :  "  I  doubt  my 
poor  memory  begins  to  peel  off;  it  is  not  the  first  crack 
I  have  perceived  in  it.  My  brother,  Sir  Edward, 
made  the  same  complaint  to  me  before  he  died,  and  I 


A  Mayfair  Marriage.  433 

suggested  a  comfort  to  him,  that  does  not  satisfy  my- 
self. I  told  him  the  memory  is  like  a  cabinet,  the 
drawers  of  which  can  hold  no  more  than  they  can.  Fill 
them  with  papers  ;  if  you  add  more,  you  must  shove 
out  some  of  the  former.  Just  so  with  the  memory  : 
there  is  scarce  a  day  in  our  lives  that  something,  serious 
or  silly,  does  not  place  itself  there,  and,  consequently, 
the  older  we  grow,  the  more  must  be  displaced  to  make 
room  for  new  contents.  '  Oh  ! '  said  my  brother,  '  but 
how  do  you  account  for  most  early  objects  remaining?' 
Why,  the  drawers  are  lined  with  gummed  taffety.  The 
first  ingredients  stick ;  those  piled  higgledy-piggledy 
upon  them,  are  tossed  out  without  difficulty,  as  new 
are  stuffed  in  ;  yet  I  am  come  to  think  that  mice  and 
time  may  gnaw  holes  in  the  sides,  and  nibble  the  papers 


too." 


A  Mayfair  Marriage. 


In  the  autumn  of  1 748,  a  young  fellow,  called  Hand- 
some Tracy,  was  walking  in  the  Park  with'  some  of  his 
acquaintance,  and  overtook  three  girls :  one  was  very 
pretty ;  they  followed  them  ;  but  the  girls  ran  away, 
and  the  company  grew  tired  of  pursuing  them,  all  but 
Tracy.  He  followed  to  Whitehall  Gate,  where  he 
gave  a  porter  a  crown  to  dog  them  :  the  porter  hunted 
them — he,  the  porter.  The  girls  ran  all  round  West- 
minster, and  back  to  the  Haymarket,  where  the  porter 
came  up  with  them.  He  told  the  pretty  one  she  must 
go  with  him,  and  kept  her  talking  till  Tracy  arrived, 
quite  out  of  breath,  and  exceedingly  in  love.  He  in- 
sisted on  knowing  where  she  lived,  which  she  refused 
to  tell  him  ;  and  after  much  dispute,  went  to  the  house 
of  one  of  her  companions,  and  Tracy  with  them.     He 

VOL.  I.  2  E 


434  Romance  of  London. 

there  made  her  discover  her  family,  a  butter-woman  in 
Craven  Street,  and  engaged  her  to  meet  him  the  next 
morning  in  the  Park  ;  but  before  night  he  wrote  her 
four  love-letters,  and  in  the  last  offered  two  hundred 
pounds  a-year  to  her,  and  a  hundred  a-year  to  her 
mother!  Griselda  made  a  confidence  to  a  staymaker's 
wife,  who  told  her  that  the  swain  was  certainly  in  love 
enough  to  marry  her,  if  she  could  determine  to  be 
virtuous  and  refuse  his  offers.  "  Ay,"  said  she,  "  but 
if  I  should,  and  lose  him  by  it  ?  "•  However,  the  mea- 
sures of  the  cabinet  council  were  decided  for  virtue  ; 
and  when  she  met  Tracy  the  next  morning  in  the  Park, 
she  was  convoyed  by  her  sister  and  brother-in-law,  and 
stuck  close  to  the  letter  of  her  reputation.  She  would 
do  nothing,  she  would  go  nowhere.  At  last,  as  an 
instance  of  prodigious  compliance,  she  told  him,  if  he 
would  accept  such  a  dinner  as  a  butter-woman's  daughter 
could  give,  he  should  be  welcome.  Away  they  walked 
to  Craven  Street ;  the  mother  borrowed  some  silver  to 
buy  a  leg  of  mutton,  and  they  kept  the  eager  lover 
drinking  till  twelve  at  night,  when  a  chosen  committee 
waited  on  the  faithful  pair  to  the  minister  of  Mayfair. 
This  was  the  Rev.  Alexander  Keith,  who  had  a  chapel 
in  Curzon  Street ;  at  which  marriages  (with  a  licence  on 
a  5s.  stamp  and  certificate)  were  performed  for  a  guinea. 
Keith  was  in  bed,  and  swore  he  would  not  get  up  to 
marry  the  King,  but  that  he  had  a  brother  over  the  way, 
who  perhaps  would,  and  who  did.  The  mother  bor- 
rowed a  pair  of  sheets,  and  they  consummated  at  her 
house  ;  and  the  next  day  they  went  to  their  own  palace. 
In  two  or  three  days  the  scene  grew  gloomy  ;  and  the 
husband  coming  home  one  night,  swore  he  could  bear 
it   no   longer.      "  Pear  !    bear  what  ?  "      "  Why,   to    be 


George  III  and  "  The  Fair  Quakeress?  43  5 

teased  by  all  my  acquaintance  for  marrying  a  butter- 
woman's  daughter.  I  am  determined  to  go  to  France, 
and  will  leave  you  a  handsome  allowance.'''  "  Leave 
me !  Why,  you  don't  fancy  you  shall  leave  me  ?  I 
will  go  with  you."  "  What !  you  love  me,  then  ?  '' 
"  No  matter  whether  I  love  you  or  not,  but  you  sha'n't 
go  without  me."*     And  the)'-  went. 


George  III.  and  "The  Fair  Quakeress" 

In  the  middle  of  the  last  century  there  dwelt  in  Market 
Street,  St  James's,  a  linen-draper  named  Wheeler,  a 
Quaker,  whose  niece,  Hannah  Lightfoot,  "  the  fair 
Quakeress,"  served  in  her  uncle's  shop.  The  lady 
caught  the  eye  of  Prince  George  in  his  walks  and 
rides  from  Leicester  House  to  St  James's  Palace  ;  and 
she  soon  returned  the  attractions  of  such  a  lover.  The 
Duchess  of  Kingston  is  said  to  have  arranged  their 
meeting,  through  a  member  of  a  family  living  in  Exeter 
Street,  Knightsbridge.  Hannah  is  stated  to  have  been 
privately  married  to  the  Prince,  in  1759,  in  Kew  Church; 
another  story  gives  it  as  a  Mayfair  marriage,  by  Parson 
Keith,  at  Curzon  Street  Chapel  ;  and  to  this  it  was 
added  that  children  were  born  of  the  union,  of  whom  a 
son  was  sent,  when  a  child,  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
under  the  name  of  George  Rex  :  now,  in  1830  there 
was  living  in  the  colony  a  settler  of  this  name,  who  was 
sixty-eight  years  of  age,  and  the  exact  resemblance  in 
features  to  George  III. 

Another    version    is,    that    Prince   George's    intrigue 
alarming   the  royal   family,  it  was  contrived  to  marry 
the  fair  Quakeress  to  a  young  grocer,  a  former  admirer, 
*  Walpole'a  Letters  and  Correspondence^  ii.  127. 


436  Romance  of  London. 

* 

named  Axford,  of  Ludgate  Hill.  The  Prince  was  incon- 
solable ;  and  a  few  weeks  after,  when  Axford  was  one 
evening  from  home,  a  royal  carriage  was  driven  to  the 
door,  and  the  lady  was  hurried  into  it  by  the  attendants 
and  carried  off.  Where  she  was  taken  to,  or  what  became 
of  her,  was  never  positively  known  ;  it  is  stated  that  she 
died  in  1765,  and  that  her  death  disturbed  the  royal 
mind.  Axford,  broken-hearted,  retired  into  the  country  ; 
he  sought  information  about  his  wife  at  Weymouth  and 
other  places,  but  without  effect.  He  married  again,  and 
had  a  family,  and  died  about  18 10. 

There  is  a  fine  portrait  of  Hannah  Lightfoot,  by  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  at  Knowle  Park,  Kent,  which  was, 
doubtless,  painted  by  order  of  George  III.  In  the  cata- 
logue she  is  called  Mrs  Axford.  In  Sir  Bernard  Burke's 
Dictionary  of  the  Landed  Gentry  is  the  pedigree  of  "  Pry- 
therch  of  Abergole,"  by  which  it  appears  that  the  gentle- 
man who  is  said  to  have  married  her  granddaughter,  has 
had  by  her  no  less  than  fourteen  children.  It  is  added 
that  Hannah's  father,  Henry  Wheeler,  Esq.,  of  Surrey 
Square,  "  was  the  last  of  the  family  who  saw  her  on  her 
going  to  Keith  Chapel,  in  Mayfair,  to  be  married  to  a 
person  of  the  name  of  Axford,  a  person  the  family  knew 
nothing  of ;  he  never  saw  her  or  heard  of  her  after  the 
marriage  took  place  ;  every  inquiry  was  made,  but  no 
satisfactory  information  was  ever  obtained  respecting 
her." 

George  III. '  and  Lady  Sarah  Lenox. 

Lady  Sarah  Lenox,  born  in  1745,  was  one  of  the 
numerous  children  of  the  second  Duke  of  Richmond  of 
his  creation  (grandson  of  King  Charles  II.)  and  Lady 


Lady  Sarah  Lenox.  437 

Sarah  Cadogan,  daughter  of  Marlborough's  favourite 
general.  Lady  Sarah  grew  up  an  extraordinary  beauty. 
Horace  YValpole,  in  1761,  describes  her  as  taking  part 
in  some  private  theatricals  which  he  had  witnessed  at 
Holland  House.  The  play  selected  to  be  performed  by 
children  and  very  young  ladies  was  Jane  Shore  :  Lady 
Sarah  Lenox  enacting  the  heroine  ;  while  the  boy,  after- 
wards eminent  as  Charles  James  Fox,  was  Hastings. 
Walpole  praises  the  acting  of  the  performers,  but  par- 
ticularly that  of  Lady  Sarah,  who,  he  says,  "  was  more 
beautiful  than  you  can  conceive  .  .  in  white,  with  her 
hair  about  her  ears,  and  on  the  ground,  no  Magdalen  by 
Corrcggio  was  half  so  lovely  and  expressive." 

The  charms  of  this  lovely  person  had  already  made 
an  impression  on  the  heart  of  George  III.,  then  newly 
come  to  the  throne  at  two-and-twenty.  There  seems 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  young  monarch  formed  the 
design  of  raising  his  lovely  cousin  (for  such  she  was)  to 
the  throne. 

Early  in  the  winter  1760-1,  the  King  took  an  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  Lady  Sarah's  cousin,  Lady  Susan 
Strangeways,  expressing  a  hope  at  the  drawing-room, 
that  her  ladyship  was  not  soon  to  leave  town.  She  said 
she  should.  "  But,"  said  the  King,  "  you  will  return  in 
summer  for  the  coronation."  Lady  Susan  answered 
that  she  did  not  know — she  hoped  so.  "  But,"  said  the 
King  again, »  they  talk  of  a  wedding.  There  have  been 
many  proposals ;  but  I  think  an  English  match  would 
do  better  than  a  foreign  one.  Pray  tell  Lady  Sarah 
Lenox  I  say  so."  Here  was  a  sufficiently  broad  hint  to 
inflame  the  hopes  of  a  family,  and  to  raise  the  head  of  a 
blooming  girl  of  sixteen  to  the  fifth  heavens. 

It  happened,  however,  that  Lady  Sarah  had  already 


43  3  Romance  of  London. 

allowed  her  heart  to  be  preoccupied,  having  formed  a 
girlish  attachment  for  the  young  Lord  Nevvbottle,  grand- 
son of  the  Marquis  of  Lothian.  She  did  not,  therefore, 
enter  into  the  views  of  her  family  with  all  the  alacrity 
which  they  desired.  ■  According  to  a  narrative  of  Mr 
Grenville,  "  She  went  the  next  drawing-room  to  St 
James's,  and  stated  to  the  King,  in  as  few  words  as  she 
could,  the  inconveniences  and  difficulties  in  which  such 
a  step  would  involve  him.  He  said  that  was  his  business  ; 
he  would  stand  them  all  :  his  part  was  taken,  he  wished 
to  hear  hers  was  likewise.  In  this  state  it  continued, 
whilst  she,  by  advice  of  her  friends,  broke  off  with  Lord 
Newbottle,  very  reluctantly  on  her  part.  She  went  into 
the  country  for  a  few  days,  and  by  a  fall  from  her  horse 
broke  her  leg.  The  absence  which  this  occasioned  gave 
time  and  opportunities  for  her  enemies  to  work  ;  they 
instilled  jealousy  into  the  King's  mind  upon  the  subject 
of  Lord  Newbottle,  telling  him  that  Lady  Sarah  still 
continued  her  intercourse  with  him,  and  immedjately  the 
marriage  with  the  Princess  of  Strelitz  was  set  on  foot ; 
and,  at  Lady  Sarah's  return  from  the  country,  she  found 
herself  deprived  of  her  crown  and  her  lover  Lord  New- 
bottle, who  complained  as  much  of  her  as  she  did  of  the 
King.  While  this  was  in  agitation,  Lady  Sarah  used  to 
meet  the  King  in  his  rides  early  in  the  morning,  driving 
a  little  chaise  with  Lady  Susan  Strangeways  ;  and  once 
it  is  said  that,  wanting  to  speak  to  him,  she  went  dressed 
like  a  servant-maid,  and  stood  amongst  the  crowd  in  the 
guard-room,  to  say  a  few  words  to  him  as  he  passed 
by."  Walpole  also  relates  that  Lady  Sarah  would 
sometimes  appear  as  a  haymaker  in  the  park  at  Holland 
House,  in  order  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  King  as 
he  rode  past ;  but  the  opportunity  was  lost. 


Lady  Sarah  Lenox.  439 

It  is  believed  that  Lady  Sarah  was  allowed  to  have 
hopes  till  the  very  day  when  the  young  sovereign  an- 
nounced to  his  council  that  he  had  resolved  on  wedding 
the  Princess  Charlotte  of  Mecklenburg-Strelitz.  She 
felt  ill-used,  and  her  friends  were  all  greatly  displeased. 
With  the  King  she  remained  an  object  of  virtuous  ad- 
miration— perhaps  also  of  pity.  He  wished  to  soften  the 
disappointment  by  endeavouring  to  get  her  established 
in  a  high  position  near  his  wife ;  but  the  impropriety  of 
such  a  course  was  obvious,  and  it  was  not  persisted  in. 

Lady  Sarah,  however,  was  asked  by  the  King  to  take 
a  place  among  the  ten  unmarried  daughters  of  dukes 
and  earls  who  held  up  the  train  of  his  Queen  at  the 
coronation ;  and  this  office  she  consented  to  perform. 
It  is  said  that,  in  the  sober,  duty-compelled  mind  of  the 
sovereign,  there  always  was  a  softness  towards  the 
object  of  his  youthful  attachment.  Walpole  relates 
that  he  blushed  at  his  wedding  service  when  allusion 
was  made  to  Abraham  and  Sarah. 

Lady  Sarah  Lenox  in  1764  made  a  marriage  which 
proved  that  ambition  was  not  a  ruling  principle  in  her 
nature,  her  husband  being  "a  clergyman's  son,"  Sir 
Thomas  Charles  Bunbury,  Bart.  Her  subsequent  life 
was  in  some  respects  infelicitous,  her  marriage  being 
dissolved  by  Act  of  Parliament  in  1776.  By  her  next 
marriage  to  the  Hon.  Major-General  George  Napier, 
she  became  the  mother  of  a  set  of  remarkable  men, 
including  the  late  Sir  Charles  James  Napier,  the  con- 
queror of  Scinde  ;  and  Lieutenant-General  Sir  William 
Napier,  the  historian  of  the  Peninsular  War.  Her  lady- 
ship died  at  the  age  of  eighty-two,  in  1826,  believed  to 
be  the  last  surviving  great  granddaughter  of  Charles  II.* 

*  Abridged  from  Chambers's  Book  of  Days. 


440  Romance  of  London. 

Love  and  Madness. 

ABOUT  the  year    17S0,  a  young   East  Indian,  whose 
name  was  Dupree,  left  his  fatherland  to  visit  a  distant 
relation,  a  merchant,  on  Fish  Street  Hill.     During  the 
young  man's  stay,  he  was  waited  on  by  the  servant  of 
the   house,   a   country  girl,    Rebecca    Griffiths,   chiefly 
remarkable   for   the    plainness  of  her  person   and  the 
quiet  meekness  of  her  manners.     The  circuit  of  pleasure 
run,  and  yearning  again  for  home,  the  visitor  at  length 
prepared  for  his  departure  :  the  chaise  came  to  the  door, 
and  shaking  of  hands,  with  tenderer  salutations,  adieus, 
and  farewells,  followed  in  the  usual  abundance.     Re- 
becca, in  whom  an.  extraordinary  depression  had  for 
some  days  previously  been  perceived,  was  in  attend- 
ance, to  help  to  pack  the  luggage.     The  leave-taking  of 
friends  and  relations  at  length  completed,  with  a  guinea 
squeezed  into  his  humble  attendant's  hand,  and  a  brief 
"  God  bless  you,  Rebecca  !  "  the  young  man  sprang  into 
the  chaise,  the  driver  smacked  his  whip,  and  the  vehicle 
was  rolling  rapidly  out  of  sight,  when  a  piercing  shriek 
from  Rebecca,  who  had  stood  to  all  appearance  vacantly 
gazing  on  what  had  passed,  alarmed  the  family,  then 
retiring  into  the  house.     They  hastily  turned  round  :  to 
their  infinite  surprise,  Rebecca  was  seen  wildly  follow- 
ing the  chaise.     She  was  rushing  with  the  velocity  of 
lio-htning-  alon<j  the  middle  of  the  road,  her  hair  stream- 
ing  in  the  wind,  and  her  whole  appearance  that  of  a 
desperate  maniac ! 

Proper  persons  were  despatched  after  her,  but  she  waa 
not  secured  till  she  had  gained  the  Borough  ;  when  she 
was  taken  in  a  state  of  incurable  madness  to  Bethlehem 
Hospital,  where  she  some  years  after  died.     The  guinea 


Emma,  Lady  Hamilton.  441 

he  had  given  her — her  richest  treasure,  her  only  wealth 
— she  never  suffered,  during  life,  to  quit  her  hand  ;  she 
grasped  it  still  more  firmly  in  her  dying  moments,  and 
at  her  request,  in  the  last  gleam  of  returning  reason — 
the  lightening  before  death — it  was  buried  with  her. 
There  was  a  tradition  in  Bedlam,  that  through  the 
heartless  cupidity  of  the  keeper,  it  was  sacrilegiously 
wrenched  from  her,  and  that  her  ghost  might  be  seen 
every  night,  gliding  through  the  dreary  cells  of  that 
melancholy  building,  in  search  of  her  lover's  gift,  and 
mournfully  asking  the  glaring  maniacs  for  her  lost 
guinea. 

It  was  Mr  Dupree's  only  consolation,  after  her  death, 
that  the  excessive  homeliness  of  her  person,  and  her 
retiring  air  and  manners,  had  never  even  suffered  him 
to  indulge  in  the  most  trifling  freedom  with  her.  She 
had  loved  hopelessly,  and  paid  the  forfeiture  with  sense 
and  life. 

Emma,  Lady  Hamilton, 

A  CHARACTERISTIC  letter  of  this  extraordinary  woman 
has  been  communicated  to  Notes  and  Queries,  April  18, 
1 861.  Mrs  Burt,  the  lady  to  whom  the  letter  is  ad- 
dressed, was  well  acquainted  with  Emma  Lyons  when 
she  was  a  barefooted  girl  residing  at  Hawarden,  near 
Chester,  and  gaining  a  livelihood  by  driving  a  donkey, 
laden  with  coals  and  sand  for  sale.  Mrs  Burt,  having 
occasion  to  come  to  London,  brought  Emma  with  her 
at  the  request  of  Mrs  Lyons,  then  occupying  some 
situation  in  the  household  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton.*     When 

*  Emma  is  also  said  to  have  begun  life  in  the  metropolis  as  a  barmaid 
at  the  Coach  and  Horses  Inn,  in  Flood  Street,  Westminster,  but  to  have 
been  discharged  for  misconduct. 


442  Romance  of  London. 

in  the  course  of  time,  the  little  barefooted  girl  became 
Lady  Hamilton,  she,  during  her  absence  from  England, 
occasionally  wrote  to  her  old  friend  and  former  pro- 
tectress ;  but,  so  far  as  is  known,  this  is  the  only  one  of 
those  letters  now  in  existence,  and  is  in  the  possession 
of  a  grandson  of  Mrs  Burt : — 

"  Mrs  Burt,  at  Mr 
Boberts,  no.  16  uppet 
Johns  Street,  Marlebone 
London. 

"Caserta,  near  Naples,  decbr  26th  1792. 

"My  dear  Mrs  Burt,  I  Receved  your  very  kind  Letter 
this  morning  &  am  surprised  to  hear  my  poor  dear 
grandmother  can  be  in  want,  as  I  left  her  thirty  pound 
when  I  Left  england  besides  tea  sugar  &  several  thing* 
&  it  is  now  five  weeks  since  I  wrote  to  a  friend  of  ours 
&  endeed  a  relation  of  my  husbands  to  send  twenty 
pound  more  so  that  my  Grandmother  must  have  had  it 
on  cristmas  day,  you  may  be  sure  I  should  never 
neglect  that  dear  tender  parent  who  I  have  the  greatest 
obligations  to,  &  she  must  have  been  cheated  or  she 
never  cou'd  be  in  want,  but  you  did  very  Right  my 
dearest  friend  to  send  her  the  four  Guines  which  I  will 
send  you  with  enterest  &  a  thousand  thanks  endeed  I 
Love  you  dearly  my  dear  Mrs  Burt  &  I  think  with  plea- 
sure on  those  happy  days  I  have  pass'd  in  your  Com- 
pany, I  onely  wait  for  an  answer  from  our  friend  with 
the  account  of  my  grandmothers  having  Receved  her 
twenty  pounds  &  I  will  then  send  you  an  order  on  him 
for  your  money,  &  I  send  a  piece  of  Silk  to  make  you  a 
Gown  we  send  it  in  the  ship  Captain  newman,  who  sails 
for  england  this  month,  but  my  next  Letter  I  will  send 
you  a  bill  of  Loading.     I  wrote  you  a  Long  Letter  Last 


Emma,  Lady  Hamilton.  443 

march,  but  I  am  affraid  you  never  got  it,  which  I  am 
sorry  for  as  their  was  a  Long  account  of  my  reception 
at  the  Court  of  naples,  endeed  the  Queen  has  been  so 
Kind  to  me  I  cannot  express  to  you  she  as  often  invited 
me  to  Court  &  her  magesty  &  nobility  treats  me  with 
the  most  kind  and  affectionate  regard.  I  am  the  hap- 
piest woman  in  the  world  my  husband  is  the  best  & 
most  tender  of  husbands  &  treats  me  and  my  mother 
with  such  goodness  &  tenderness,  endeed  I  love  him 
dearly,  if  I  cou'd  have  my  dear  grandmother  with  me, 
how  happy  I  shou'd  be,  but  gods  will  be  done,  she  shall 
never  want  &  if  she  shou'd  wish  for  any  thing  over 
above  what  I  have  sent  her  Let  her  have  it  &  I  will 
repay  you  with  cntrest  &  thanks,  you  see  my  dear  Mrs 
Burt  in  a  year  &  2  months  she  will  have  had  fifty 
pounds  theirfore  I  have  nothing  to  Lay  to  my  charge,  I 
write  to  Mrs  Thomas  who  Lives  on  the  spot,  &  who  I 
hope  will  see  she  is  kindly  used,  I  enclose  this  in  a 
friends  Letter  to  save  you  the  postage  which  is  very 
dear.  I  will  write  to  you  as  soon  as  we  have  Receved 
the  answer  that  the  twenty  pounds  are  receved  &  I 
then  will  say  more  about  Mr  Connor,  my  dear  mother 
desires  her  best  Love  to  you  &  your  Brother,  &  pray 
present  my  Compliments  to  him  &  when  you  write  to 
Michell  say  every  thing  thats  kind  from  us  to  him. 
Miss  Dodsworth,  Mrs  Greffor  now,  is  brought  to  bed  & 
the  King  was  god  father  and  made  her  a  present  of  a 
Gold  watch  set  in  pearls  twelve  Sylver  Candlesticks,  a 
Sylver  tea  board  &  Sylver  coffey  pot  Suger  Basen,  &c. 
&c.  She  is  a  very  good  wife  and  Mr  Greffor  is  a  good 
man  &  the  King  is  very  fond  of  him  when  the  Court  is 
at  Caserta  we  go  with  them  and  I  see  M'3  Greffor  often. 
Sir  William  is  now  on  a  shooting  party  with  the  King, 


444  Romance  of  London. 

the  Queen  is  at  Caserta  &  our  family  is  now  there 
we  onely  Come  to  naples  for  a  few  days.  I  am  now  at 
Caserta,  we  have  a  good  many  english  with  us  the 
duchess  of  ancaster  Lord  &  Lady  cholmondly  Lady 
plymouth  Lady  webster  Lady  Forbes  &c.  &c.  they  all 
dined  with  me  yesterday.  I  expect  Sir  William  home 
to  night.  God  Bless  you  my  dear  Mrs  Burt,  &  thank 
you  for  all  your  goodness  write  soon  &  believe  me  your 
ever  true  and  affectionate  friend 

"Emma  Hamilton. 
"  Direct  for  Lady  Hamilton 
at  naples." 

The  anxiety  evinced  in  this  letter  by  Lady  Hamilton 
for  the  comfort  of  her  aged  relative,  places  her  in  a  most 
pleasing  light ;  and  the  mixing  up  of  this  matter  with 
the  accounts  of  the  distinguished  circle  of  which  she  was 
so  brilliant  an  ornament,  is  very  curious.  The  original 
is  written  in  a  bold  hand,  but  not  with  the  freedom  of  a 
practised  writer. 

It  is  to  the  credit  of  Lady  Hamilton,  that  in  her 
prosperity  she  was  neither  ashamed  of  her  origin  nor 
unmindful  of  her  friends.  Young  Burt,  the  son  of  Mrs 
Burt,  and  articled  to  an  engraver,  was  a  frequent  guest 
at  Merton,  where  he  sat  at  table  with  the  great  Nelson 
himself,  and  has  heard  Lady  H.  delight  her  company 
with  songs,  celebrating  the  deeds  of  the  hero,  and  amuse 
them  with  reminiscences  of  her  village  life. 


*;=>* 


BreacJies  of  Promise. 

Mr   Parker,   who   had   been   a   partner   in   Combe's 
Brewery,  was  one  of  the  oldest  and  dearest  friends  of 


Breaches  of  Promise.  445 

John  Thomas  Smith,  of  the  British  Museum.  Parker 
died  in  1828,  at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety  ;  and  of  him 
Mr  Smith  used  to  tell  a  remarkable  story,  which,  says 
the  editor  of  A  Book  for  a  Rainy  Day*  we  are  rather 
surprised  not  to  find  recorded  in  his  reminiscences.  It 
was  our  fortune  to  be  the  first  to  communicate  to  Mr 
Smith  the  fact  of  his  old  friend's  decease,  and  that  he 
had  bequeathed  to  him  a  legacy  of  £i  00.  "Ah,  sir!" 
he  said,  in  a  very  solemn  manner,  after  a  long  pause, 
"  poor  fellow !  he  pined  to  death  on  account  of  a  rash 
promise  of  marriage  he  had  made."  We  humbly  ven- 
tured to  express  our  doubts,  having  seen  him  not  long 
before  looking  not  only  very  un-Romeo-like,  but  very 
hale  and  hearty;  and  besides,  we  begged  to  suggest  that 
other  reasons  might  be  given  for  the  decease  of  a  re- 
spectable gentleman  of  ninety.  "  No,  sir,"  said  Mr 
Smith,  "what  I  tell  you  is  the  fact,  and  sit  ye  down,  and 
I  '11  tell  you  the  whole  story.  Many  years  ago,  when  Mr 
Parker  was  a  young  man,  employed  in  the  brewhouse  in 
which  he  afterwards  became  a  partner,  he  courted  and 
promised  marriage  to  a  worthy  young  woman  in  his  own 
sphere  of  life.  But,  as  his  circumstances  improved,  he 
raised  his  ideas,  and,  not  to  make  a  long  story  of  it, 
married  another  woman  with  a  good  .deal  of  money. 
The  injured  fair  one  was  indignant,  but  as  she  had  no 
written  promise  to  show,  was,  after  some  violent  scenes, 
obliged  to  put  up  with  a  verbal  assurance  that  she  should 
be  the  next  Mrs  Parker.  After  a  few  years  the  first 
Mrs  P.  died,  and  she  then  claimed  the  fulfilment  of  his 
promise,  but  was  again  deceived  in  the  same  way,  and 
obliged  to  put  up  with  a  similar  pledge.     A  second  time 

*  See  A  Book  far  a  Rainy  Day.      By  John  Thomas  Smith.      Third 
Edition.     1S61. 


44-6  Romance  of  London. 

he  became  a  widower,  and  a  third  time  he  deceived  his 
unfortunate  first  love,  who,  indignant  and  furious  beyond 
measure,  threatened  all  sorts  of  violent  proceedings.  To 
pacify  her,  Mr  P.  gave  her  a  written  promise  that,  if  a 
widower,  he  would  marry  her  when  he  attained  the  age 
of  one  hundred  years !  Now,  he  had  lost  his  last  wife 
some  time  since,  and  every  time  he  came  to  see  me  at 
the  Museum,  he  fretted  and  fumed,  because  he  should 
be  obliged  to  marry  that  awful  old  woman  at  last.  This 
could  not  go  on  long,  and,  as  you  tell  me,  he  has  just 
dropped  off.  If  it  had  not  been  for  this,  he  would  have 
lived  as  long  as  Old  Parr.  And  now,"  finished  Mr  Smith, 
with  the  utmost  solemnity,  "  let  this  be  a  warning  to  you. 
Don't  make  rash  promises  to  women  ;  but,  if  you  do  so, 
don't  make  them  in  writing." 


Marriage  of  Mrs  Fitzherbert  and  the 
Prince  of  Wales. 

The  beautiful  and  accomplished  Mrs  Fitzherbert  was 
the  daughter  of  Walter  Smythe,  Esq.,  of  Brambridge, 
Hants,  and  was  first  married  to  Edward  Weld,  Esq.,  of 
Lulworth,  Dorsetshire  ;  secondly,  to  Thomas  Fitzher- 
bert, Esq.,  of  Swismerton,  Staffordshire.  She  became  a 
second  time  a  widow,  living  on  a  handsome  jointure,  and 
greatly  admired  in  society  on  account  of  her  beauty 
and  accomplishments;  when,  in  1785,  being  twenty-nine 
years  of  age,  she  became  acquainted  with  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  who  was  six  years  younger.  He  fell  distractedly 
in  love  with  her,  and  was  eager  to  become  her  third  hus- 
band ;  but  she,  well  aware  that  the  Royal  Marriage  Act 
made  the  possibility  of  anything  more  than  an  appearance 


Jlfrs  FitzJicrbcrt  and  the  Prince  of  Wales.       447 

of  decent  nuptials  in  this  case  very  doubtful,  resisted  all 
importunities.  It  has  been  stated,  on  good  authority, 
that  to  overcome  her  scruples,  the  Prince  one  day  caused 
himself  to  be  bled,  put  on  the  appearance  of  having 
made  a  desperate  attempt  on  his  own  life,  and  sent  some 
friends  to  bring  her  to  see  him.  She  was  thus  induced 
to  allow  him  to  engage  her  with  a  ring  in  the  presence 
of  witnesses  ;  but  she  afterwards  broke  off  the  intimacy, 
went  on  the  Continent,  and  for  a  long  time  resisted  all 
the  efforts  made  by  the  Prince  to  induce  her  to  return. 
It  is  told  as  a  curious  fact  in  this  strange  love  history, 
that  one  of  the  persons  chiefly  engaged  in  attempting 
to  bring  about  this  ill-assorted  union  was  the  notorious 
Duke  of  Orleans  (Philip  Egalite). 

Towards  the  close  of  1785,  it  was  bruited  that  the 
heir-apparent  to  the  British  Crown  was  about  to  marry  a 
Roman  Catholic  widow  lady,  named  Fitzherbert.  Even 
Horace  Walpole  is  very  mysterious  about  the  rumour, 
for  in  February  1786,  he  writes  to  Sir  Horace  Mann: 
"  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  accounts  of  the  House 
of  Albany  (Pretender  family)  ;  but  that  extinguishing 
family  can  make  no  sensation  here,  when  we  have  other 
guess-matter  to  talk  of  in  a  higher  and  more  flourishing 
race;  and  yet,  were  rumour  —  ay,  much  more  than 
rumour,  every  voice  in  England — to  be  credited,  the 
matter,  somehow  or  other,  reaches  even  from  London  to 
Rome.  I  know  nothing  but  the  buzz  of  the  day,  nor 
can  say  more  upon  it ;  if  I  send  you  a  riddle,  fancy  or 
echo  from  so  many  voices  will  soon  reach  you  and 
explain  the  enigma,  though  I  hope  it  is  essentially  void 
of  truth,  and  that  appearances  rise  from  a  much  more 
common  cause."  Mr  Fox,  to  whose  party  the  Prince 
had  attached  himself,  wrote  to  his  Royal  Highness  on 


44-8  Romance  of  London. 

the  ioth  of  December  a  long  letter,  pointing  out  the 
dangerous  nature  of  the  course  he  was  following.  "  Con- 
sider," said  he,  "  the  circumstances  in  which  you  stand  : 
the  King  not  feeling  for  you  as  a  father  ought ;  the 
Duke  of  York  professedly  his  favourite,  and  likely  to  be 
married  to  the  King's  wishes ;  the  nation  full  of  its  old 
prejudices  against  Catholics,  and  justly  dreading  all  dis- 
putes about  succession."  Then  the  marriage  could  not 
be  a  real  one.  "  I  need  not,"  said  he,  "  point  out  to  your 
good  sense  what  source  of  uneasiness  it  must  be  to  you, 
to  her,  and,  above  all,  to  the  nation,  to  have  it  a  matter 
of  dispute  and  discussion  whether  the  Prince  is  or  is  not 
married."  The  whole  letter,  written  in  a  tone  of  sincere 
regard  for  the  Prince,  was  highly  creditable  to  the  good 
sense  of  the  writer. 

The  Prince  answered  on  the  instant,  thanking  Mr 
Fox  for  his  advices  and  warnings,  but  assuring  him  they 
were  needless.  "Make  yourself  easy,  my  dear  friend; 
believe  me,  the  world  will  now  soon  be  convinced  that 
there  not  only  is  [not]  but  never  was,  any  ground  for 
those  reports  which  have  of  late  been  so  malevolently 
circulated." 

Ten  days  after  the  date  of  this  letter— namely,  on  the 
2 1 st  of  December,  the  Prince  and  Mrs  Fitzherbert  were 
married  by  an  English  clergyman,  before  two  witnesses. 
Mr  Fox,  misled  by  the  Prince,  on  the  next  discussion  of 
the  subject  in  the  House  of  Commons,  contradicted  the 
report  of  the  marriage  in  toio,  in  point  of  fact  as  well  as 
of  law  ;  it  not  only  never  could  have  happened  legally, 
but  it  never  did  happen  in  any  way  whatever,  and  had, 
from  the  beginning,  been  a  base  and  malicious  falsehood. 
Home  Tooke,  in  a  strong  pamphlet  which  he  wrote  upon 
the  subject,  presumed  so  far  on  the  belief  of  the  mar- 


Flight  of  the  Princess  Charlotte.  449 

riage  as  to  style  Mrs  Fitzherbert  "  her  Royal  Highness." 
However,  the  public  generally  were  not  deceived.  Mrs 
Fitzherbert  lived  for  several  years  with  great  openness 
as  the  wife  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  in  the  enjoyment 
of  the  entire  respect  of  society,  more  especially  of  her 
husband's  brothers.  A  separation  only  took  place  about 
1795,  when  the  Prince  was  about  to  marry  (for  the  pay- 
ment of  his  debts)  the  unfortunate  Caroline  of  Bruns- 
wick. Mrs  Fitzherbert  survived  this  event  forty-two 
years,  and  never  during  the  whole  time  ceased  to  be 
visited."  The  lady  occasionally  resided  at  Brighton,  in 
a  neat  stone-coloured  villa,  with  verandas  in  front,  at 
the  south-east  corner  of  Castle  Square  :  this  house  was 
built  by  the  architect,  Mr  Porden,  for  Mrs  Fitzherbert, 
and  was  furnished  in  a  superb  style.  Here  Mrs  Fitzher- 
bert died  on  the  29th  of  March  1837,  in  her  eighty-first 
year. 

Flight  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  from 
Warwick  House. 

THE  marriage  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  with  the  Prince 
of  Orange  was,  in  1813,  it  is  well  known,  most  studi- 
ously desired  by  her  royal  father,  the  Prince  Regent, 
who,  however,  appears  to  have  been  opposed  in  his 
wishes  by  the  young  lady  herself,  as  well  as  certain 
members  of  her  household.  Miss  Knight,  the  Princess's 
sub-governess  or  companion,  in  explanation  to  Sir 
Henry  Halford,  the  Mentor  sent  by  the  Regent  to  for- 
ward his  views,  suggested  that  her  beloved  Princess  was 
really  somewhat  intractable,  and  that  they  were  not  to 
blame  if  she  showed  a  will  of  her  own.  Thus,  when  the 
Princess  was  told,  soon  after  that,  she  was  to  meet  the 
vol.  r.  2  F 


450  Romance  of  London. 

Prince  of  Orange  at  Lady  Liverpool's,  she  put  on  a 
blister  prematurely,  and  kept  away  from  the  party. 
Yet,  soon  after,  she  went  to  Egham  races,  which  Miss 
Knight  thought  more  reprehensible;  and  she  manifested 
a  yet  more  obstinate  will  of  her  own  when  Sir  Henry 
Halford,  in  addition  to  his  usual  prescriptions,  proposed 
to  her  to  marry  the  Prince  of  Orange  aforesaid.  "  Marry 
I  will,"  said  she  to  the  Princess  of  Wales,  "  and  that 
directly,  in  order  to  enjoy  my  liberty,  but  not  the  Prince 
of  Orange.  I  think  him  so  ugly  that  I  am  sometimes 
obliged  to  turn  my  head  away  in  disgust  when  he  is 
speaking  to  me,"  She  told  Sir  Henry  she  was  willing 
to  marry  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  but  not  the  Prince,  and 
Miss  Knight  felt  hurt  that  she  should  so  commit  herself; 
though  this  preference  of  her  cousin  was  better  received 
by  the  Regent  than  might  have  been  expected. 

Sir  Henry  returned  to  the  charge  on  the  subject  of  the 
Orange  match,  and  he  must  have  been  a  good  diploma- 
tist, for  he  speedily  overcame  the  Princess's  aversion. 
A  long  conference  with  her  on  the  29th  of  November 
appears  to  have  turned  the  current,  and  she  was  soon 
receiving  presents  and  meeting  the  would-be  futur. 
The  Princess  said,  "  He  is  by  no  means  so  disagreeable 
as  I  expected  ; "  and  when  the  Regent  took  her  aside 
one  night  at  Carleton  House,  and  said,  "  Well,  it  will 
not  do,  I  suppose  ? "  she  answered,  "  I  do  not  say  that. 
I  like  his  manner  very  well,  as  much  as  I  have  seen  of 
it ; "  upon  which  the  Prince  was  overcome  with  joy,  and 
joined  their  hands  immediately,  and  the  Princess  came 
home  and  told  Miss  Knight  she  was  engaged. 

Nevertheless,  the  Orange  match  was  not  to  be,  for  it 
went  off  on  the  resolute  determination  of  the  Princess, 
if  she  did  marry  the  Prince,  not  to  quit  England  and 


Flight  of  the  Princess  Charlotte.  45 1 

live  in  Holland.  Her  father  would  probably  have  gladly 
settled  her  anywhere  out  of  his  own  sight,  but  she  was 
invincible  upon  this  point.  It  is  implied  that  the  Grand 
Duchess  Catherine  secretly  aided  her  determination,  with 
a  view  to  secure  the  Orange  for  a  princess  of  Russia. 

Miss  Knight  was  now  sent  for  by  the  enraged  Regent, 
and  ordered  to  admonish  his  daughter,  which  she  did, 
though  to  very  little  purpose.  The  Regent  expressed 
violent  displeasure,  but  his  daughter  adhered  to  her 
stipulation.  The  Princess  of  Wales  wrote  with  glee  to 
Lady  Charlotte  Campbell  that  her  daughter  had  declared 
"  she  would  not  see  her  father  or  any  of  the  family  till 
their  consent  to  her  remaining  in  this  country  had  been 
obtained,  or  that  otherwise  the  marriage  would  be  broken 
off/'  The  Princess  took  a  course  of  her  own,  which  no 
one  was  able  to  influence.  Lord  Liverpool,  among 
others,  made  several  fruitless  attempts  to  induce  her 
Royal  Highness  to  waive  her  demands,  and  at  length 
affected  to  yield  to  them.  Thereupon  the  Princess  of 
Wales  was  excluded  from  the  Queen's  Drawing-Rooms, 
because  the  Regent  did  not  choose  to  meet  her,  and  the 
waters  wrere  further  troubled  on  this  account.  The 
Prince  of  Orange  apparently  consented  to  the  Princess 
Charlotte's  terms,  but  the  Regent  still  pressed  her,  while 
the  Queen  went  so  far  as  to  buy  her  wedding-clothes, 
though  the  question  was  unsettled.  When  the  Princess 
heard  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  Regent  to  sent  for 
the  Orange  family,  and  to  have  the  wedding  immedi- 
ately, she  was  in  a  state  of  great  alarm,  and  resolved  to 
have  a  further  explanation  with  the  futur  himself,  and  it 
finished  by  a  definite  rupture.  The  Emperor  of  Russia, 
then  in  this  country,  attempted  to  act  as  mediator,  but 
failed.     Of  course,  after  him  the   Bishop  of  Salisbury 


4  5  2  R  omance  of  L  on  don. 

failed  also;  though  he  intimated  that  unless  Princess 
Charlotte  would  write  a  submissive  letter  to  her  father, 
and  hold  out  a  hope  that  in  a  few  months  she  might  be 
induced  to  give  her  hand  to  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
arrangements  would  be  made  by  no  means  agreeable 
to  her  inclinations.  Her  Royal  Highness  wrote  to  the 
Regent  a  most  submissive  and  affectionate  letter,  but 
held  out  no  hope  of  renewing  the  treaty  of  marriage ;  nor 
was  it  renewed. 

Miss  Knight  had  failed  in  enforcing  the  Regent's 
wishes  upon  his  daughter.  She  asserts  that  sometime 
previously  the  Regent  tapped  her  on  the  shoulder  and 
said,  "  Remember,  my  dear  Chevalier,  that  Charlotte 
must  lay  aside  this  idle  nonsense  of  thinking  that  she 
has  a  will  of  her  own  ;  while  I  live  she  must  be  subject 
to  me  as  she  is  at  present,  if  she  were  thirty,  or  forty,  or 
five-and-forty."  This  programme  must,  however,  under 
any  circumstances  have  failed.  The  Regent  withdrew 
his  support.  The  Duchess  of  Leeds  sent  in  her  resig- 
nation, and  Miss  Knight's  dismissal  followed. 

The  dismissal  came  in  this  wise.  One  day  in  July, 
about  six  o'clock,  the  Regent  and  the  Bishop  came  to 
Warwick  House,  but  the  former  alone  came  up,  and 
desired  Miss  Knight  would  leave  him  with  the  Princess 
Charlotte.  He  was  shut  up  with  her  alone  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  and  then  had  another  quarter  of  an 
hour  assisted  by  the  Bishop.  But  when  the  door  opened, 
"she  came  out  in  the  greatest  agony,"  and  told  Miss 
Knight  that  she  was  wanted,  and  had  only  one  instant 
to  tell  her  that  she  and  all  the  servants  were  to  be  dis- 
missed, that  she  herself  was  to  be  confined  to  Carlton 
House  for  five  days,  then  to  go  to  Crartbourne  Lodge, 
where  she  was  to  sec  no  one  but  the  Queen  once  a-week, 


.     Fliglit  of  tlie  Princess  Charlotte.  453 

and  that  if  she  did  not  go  immediately,  the  Prince 
would  sleep  at  Warwick  House  that  night,  as  well  as  all 
the  new  ladies.  Miss  Knight  begged  her  to  be  calm, 
but  she  fell  on  her  knees  in  the  greatest  agitation, 
exclaiming,  "  God  Almighty!  grant  me  patience  ;  "  and 
then  Miss  Knight  went  up  for  her  own  share  of  the 
rating.  The  Prince  apologised  for  putting  a  lady  to 
inconvenience,  but  said  he  wanted  her  room  that  even- 
ing ;  and  summary  ejectment  followed. 

Then  came  the  afterpiece,  so  frequently  canvassed  by 
other  authorities.  While  this  interview  was  taking  place, 
the  Princess  Charlotte  had  slipped  down  the  back  stairs, 
called  a  hackney-coach,  and  fled  to  her  mother's.  The 
rush  of  great  dignitaries  after  her  has  been  recorded  in 
many  histories,  with  the  irreverent  expression  of  Lord 
Eldon,  "  that  she  kicked  and  bounced,"  but  for  a  long 
time  declined  to  leave  her  asylum. 

The  following  version  of  the  affair  is  from  the  pen  of 
Lord  Brougham  : — In  a  fine  evening  of  July,  about  the 
hour  of  seven,  when  the  streets  are  deserted  by  all 
persons  of  condition,  the  young  Princess  Charlotte 
rushed  out  of  her  residence  in  Warwick  House,  un- 
attended, hastily  crossed  Cockspur  Street,  flung  herself 
into  the  first  hackney-coach  she  could  find,  and  drove 
to  her  mother's  house  in  Connaught  Place.  The  Princess 
of  Wales  having  gone  to  pass  the  day  at  her  Blackheath 
villa,  a  messenger  was  despatched  for  her,  another  for 
her  law  adviser,  Mr  Brougham,  and  a  third  for  Miss 
Mercer  Elphinstone,  the  young  Princess's  bosom  friend. 
Brougham  arrived  before  the  Princess  of  Wales  had 
returned  ;  and  Miss  Elphinstone  had  alone  obeyed  the 
summons.  Soon  after  the  royal  mother  came,  accom- 
panied by  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay,  her  lady-in-waiting. 


454  Romance  of  London. 

It  was  found  that  the  Princess  Charlotte's  fixed  resolu- 
tion was  to  leave  her  father's  house,  and  that  which  he 
had  appointed  for  her  residence,  and  to  live  thenceforth 
with  her  mother.  But  Mr  Brougham  is  understood  to 
have  felt  himself  under  the  painful  necessity  of  explain- 
ing to  her  that,  by  the  law,  as  all  the  twelve  judges  but 
one  had  laid  it  down  in  George  I.'s  reign,  and  as  it  was 
now  admitted  to  be  settled,  the  King  or  the  Regent  had 
the  absolute  power  to  dispose  of  the  persons  of  all  of  the 
Royal  Family  while  under  age.  The  Duke  of  Sussex, 
who  had  always  taken  her  part,  was  sent  for  and  at- 
tended the  invitation  to  join  in  these  consultations.  It 
was  an  untoward  incident  in  this  remarkable  affair, 
that  he  had  never  seen  the  Princess  of  Wales  since  the 
investigation  of  1 806,  which  had  begun  upon  a  false 
charge  brought  by  the  wife  of  one  of  his  equerries,  and 
that  he  had,  without  any  kind  of  warrant  from  the  fact, 
been  supposed  by  the  Princess  to  have  set  on,  or  at  least 
supported,  the  accuser.  He,  however,  warmly  joined  in 
the  whole  of  the  deliberations  of  that  singular  night 
As  soon  as  the  flight  of  the  young  lady  was  ascertained, 
and  the  place  of  her  retreat  (discovered,  the  Regent's 
officers  of  state  and  other  functionaries  were  despatched 
after  her.  The  Lord  Chancellor  Eldon  first  arrived,  but 
not  in  any  particularly  imposing  state,  or,  "  regard  being 
had  "  to  his  eminent  station  ;  for,  indeed,  he  came  in  a 
hackney-coach.  Whether  it  was  that  the  example  of 
the  Princess  Charlotte  herself  had  for  the  day  brought 
this  simple  and  economical  mode  of  conveyance  into 
fashion,  or  that  concealment  was  much  studied,  or  that 
despatch  was  deemed  more  essential  than  ceremony 
and  pomp — certain  it  is,  that  all  who  came,  including 
the  Duke  of  York,  arrived  in  similar  vehicles,  and  that 


Flight  of  the  Princess  Charlotte.  455 

some  remained  enclosed  in  them,  without  entering  the 
royal  mansion.  At  length,  after  much  pains  and  many- 
entreaties,  used  by  the  Duke  of  Sussex  and  the  Princess 
of  Wales  herself,  as  well  as  Miss  Elphinstone  and  Lady 
C.  Lindsay  (whom  she  always  honoured  with  a  just 
regard),  to  enforce  the  advice  given  by  Mr  Brougham, 
that  she  should  return  without  delay  to  her  own  resi- 
dence, and  submit  to  the  Regent,  the  young  Princess, 
accompanied  by  the  Duke  of  York  and  her  governess,  who 
had  now  been  sent  for,  and  arrived  in  a  royal  carriage, 
returned  to  Warwick  House,  between  four  and  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  There  was  then  a  Westminster  election 
in  progress,  in  consequence  of  Lord  Cochrane's  expul- 
sion ;  and  it  is  said  that  on  her  complaining  to  Mr 
Brougham  that  he,  too,  was  deserting  her,  and  leaving 
her  in  her  father's  power,  when  the  people  would  have 
stood  by  her — he  took  her  to  the  window,  when  the 
morning  had  just  dawned,  and,  pointing  to  the  Park, 
and  the  spacious  streets  which  lay  before  her,  said  that 
he  had  only  to  show  her  a  few  hours  later  on  the  spot 
where  she  now  stood,  and  all  the  people  of  this  vast 
metropolis  would  be  gathered  together  on  that  plain, 
with  one  common  feeling  in  her  behalf — but  that  the 
triumph  of  one  hour  would  be  dearly  purchased  by  the 
consequences  which  must  assuredly  follow  in  the  next, 
when  the  troops  poured  in,  and  quelled  all  resistance 
to  the  clear  and  undoubted  law  of  the  land,  with  the 
certain  effusion  of  blood — nay,  that  through  the  rest 
of  her  life  she  never  would  escape  the  odium  which, 
in  this  country,  always  attends  those  who,  by  breaking 
the  law,  occasion  such  calamities.  This  consideration, 
much  more  than  any  quailing  of  her  dauntless  spirit, 
or  faltering  of  her  filial  affection,  is  believed  to  have 


45<3  Romance  of  London. 

weighed  upon  her  mind,  and  induced  her  to  return 
home. 

Warwick  House,  which  was  set  apart  for  the  residence 
of  the  Princess  Charlotte,  stood  at  the  end  of  Warwick 
Street,  which  stretches  from  Cockspur  Street  towards 
Carlton  House  Terrace.  It  had  once  been  the  residence 
of  Sir  Philip  Warwick,  the  Royalist  writer  of  the  most 
picturesque  memoirs  of  the  times  of  the  Civil  War.  It 
was  out  of  repair  and  uncomfortable,  "resembling  a  con- 
vent ;  "  but  here  the  Princess  and  Miss  Knight  looked 
upon  themselves  as  settled,  and  the  former  thought  her- 
self emancipated  and  comparatively  happy.* 

George  IV.  and  his  Queen. 

Immediately  after  the  death  of  George  III.,  Queen 
Caroline,  although  with  more  than  suspicion  hanging 
over  her  head,  hastened  to  England  to  claim  her  right 
to  the  throne  of  a  man  who  could  hardly  be  considered 
her  husband.  His  estrangement  from  her,  the  aversion 
he  had  manifested  from  the  first  moment  of  their  ill- 
assorted  marriage,  was  the  only  excuse  the  unfortunate 
woman  could  plead  for  her  errors.  The  announcement 
of  her  journey  to  England,  and  the  news  of  her  demands 
for  a  regal  reception,  caused  a  great  sensation.  "  Great 
bets,"  says  Lord  Eldon,  "  are  laid  about  it.  Some 
people  have  taken  50  guineas,  undertaking  in  lieu  of 
them  to  pay  a  guinea  a  day  till  she  comes."  .£50,000 
a-year  were  offered  if  she  would  consent  to  play  the 
Queen  of  England  at  some  Continental  court.  She  in 
her  turn  demanded  a  palace  in  London,  a  frigate,  and 

*  Abridged,  in  part,  from  the   Times  review  of  Miss  Knight's  Auto- 
biography. 


George  IV.  and  Jiis  Queen.  457 

the  restoration  of  her  name  to  the  Church  service. 
Nothing  short  of  the  prayers  of  the  faithful  would 
satisfy  her  craving  for  worldly  distinction.  Mr  Wil- 
berforce,  with  characteristic  indulgence,  admired  her 
for  her  spirit,  though  he  feared  she  had  been  "  very 
profligate."  Her  arrival  in  London  was  the  signal  for 
a  popular  ovation,  "  more  out  of  hatred  to  the  king 
than  out  of  regard  for  her."  For  many  weeks  the 
stout  lady  in  the  hat  and  feathers  was  the  favourite  of 
the  populace,  and  Alderman  Wood's  house  in  South 
Audley  Street,  where  she  had  taken  up  her  quarters, 
was  at  all  hours  of  the  day  surrounded  by  a  mob  of 
noisy  king -haters.  Mr  Wilberforce,  in  a  letter  to 
Hannah  More,  recounts  their  proceedings:  "A  most 
shabby  assemblage  of  quite  the  lowest  of  the  people, 
who  every  now  and  then  kept  calling  out,  '  Queen  ! 
Queen  1  '  and  several  times,  once  in  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  she  came  out  of  one  window  of  a  balcony  and 
Alderman  Wood  at  the  other."  At  which  the  crowd 
cheered  prodigiously.  When  her  trial  was  decided 
upon,  this  misguided  woman,  determined  to  brazen  it 
out  at  all  hazards,  threatened  to  come  daily  to  West- 
minster Hall  in  "  a  coach  and  six  in  high  style"  and 
she  also  insisted  on  being  present  at  the  coronation. 
"  She  has  written  to  the  king,"  says  Mr  Th.  Grenville, 
"  when,  and  in  what  dress,  she  should  appear  at  the 
coronation.  I  presume  the  answer  will  be  :  in  a  white 
sheet,  in  the  middle  aisle  of  the  Abbey." 

The  strictest  orders  were  given  for  her  exclusion,  but 
still  she  came,  and  among  the  extraordinary  and  dis- 
graceful scenes  of  the  time  is  that  of  a  Queen  of  Eng- 
land "  trying  every  door  of  the  Abbey  and  the  Hall/' 
and  at  length  withdrew. 


45  S  Romance  of  London. 

"  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  no  Diary  or  Journal 
published  since  1821  throws  any  new  light  upon  the 
question  of  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  the  Queen  ;  but  it 
is  significant  that  Lord  Grenville,  who  had  exculpated 
her  in  1806  upon  the  occasion  of  the  Delicate  Investi- 
gation, seems  to  have  had  no  doubt  as  to  her  miscon- 
duct in  1 82 1,  and  both  voted  and  spoke  against  her  on 
the  second  reading  of  the  Bill.  This  is  not  the  place  to 
discuss  a  nasty  personal  subject,  with  regard  to  which, 
we  suppose,  most  historians  will  not  differ ;  but  what- 
ever may  have  been  the  sins  of  Caroline  of  Brunswick, 
the  behaviour  of  George  IV.  towards  her  had  been  of 
such  a  kind  that,  in  our  judgment,  political  considera- 
tions alone  can  account  for  the  support  which  the  majo- 
rity of  the  House  of  Lords  afforded  him  at  the  trial. 
In  fact,  it  is  evident  from  many  sources,  that  the  real 
issue  in  the  case  was  lost  sight  of  by  all  parties  ;  and, 
if  it  may  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  the  people  that  they 
backed  the  Queen  solely  in  the  interest  of  revolution, 
it  is  equally  certain  that  the  mass  of  the  aristocracy  who 
sided  with  the  King,  only  did  so  because  they  thought 
that  the  constitution  was  in  danger."* 

*  Saturday  Revicvh 


aip  crmthinil  Btaxx cs. 


A  Vision  in  the  Tower. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  III.,  who  far  outwent  his  prede- 
cessors in  his  extensive  additions  to  the  Tower,  there  is 
recorded  the  following  strange  scene  : — 

In  1239,  the  King  had  accumulated  within  the  walls 
of  the  fortress  an  enormous  treasure,  which  he  intended 
to  use  for  its  still  greater  strength  and  adornment. 
Fate,  however — unless  we  choose  to  impute  it  to  human 
design — seemed  against  him.  The  works  were  scarcely 
completed  when,  on  the  night  of  St  George  in  the  fol- 
lowing year,  the  foundations  gave  way,  and  a  noble 
portal,  with  walls  and  bulwarks,  on  which  much  ex- 
pense had  been  incurred,  gave  way  and  fell  without  a 
moment's  warning,  as  if  by  the  effect  of  an  earthquake. 
Stranger  still,  no  sooner  were  the  works  restored  than, 
in  1 241,  the  whole  again  fell  down,  on  the  very  night 
and,  as  we  are  told,  in  the  very  self-same  hour,  which 
had  proved  so  destructive  to  them  in  the  year  preced- 
ing. Matthew  Paris — a  most  trustworthy  and  excel- 
lent historian  —  relates  the  whole  occurrence  in  his 
Latin  Chronicle,  and  gives  a  reason  for  the  fall  of  the 
portal  and  rampart,  which  exhibits  a  famous  character 
of  the  previous  age  in  a  light  which  to  many  of  my 
audience  is  no  doubt  new.     He  relates  how  that  as  a 


4C0  Romance  of  London. 

certain  priest  was  sleeping,  a  vision  was  granted  to  him. 
He  saw  a  venerable  figure  in  the  robes  of  an  archbishop, 
with  the  cross  in  his  hand,  walk  up  to  the  walls,  and, 
regarding  them  with  a  stern  and  threatening  aspect, 
strike  them  with  the  cross  which  he  held,  and  forthwith 
they  fell  as  if  of  some  natural  convulsion.  He  asked  a 
priest,  who  seemed  in  attendance  on  the  archbishop, 
who  he  was  ?  and  was  answered,  that  the  blessed 
martyr  of  Canterbury,  the  sainted  Becket,  by  birth  a 
Londoner,  knowing  that  these  walls  were  erected,  not 
for  defence  of  the  kingdom,  but  for  the  injury  and  pre- 
judice of  the  Londoners  his  brethren,  had  taken  this 
summary  mode  of  repressing  the  king's  designs.  On 
the  following  morning  the  vision  was  found  to  have 
been  accompanied  with  palpable  proof  that,  if  not  the 
archbishop,  some  all-powerful  agency  had  effected  the 
result  desired.  Becket  was  a  warm  defender  and 
princely  patron  of  the  people ;  and  the  Londoners 
rejoiced  at  the  destruction  of  these  new  buildings, 
which  they  said  were  a  thorn  in  their  eyes,  and  de- 
lighted to  attribute  their  ruin  to  one  whose  memory 
they  so  greatly  revered. — The  Rev.  T.  Hugo,  F.S.A. 


The  Legend  of  Kilburn. 

Kilburn,  a  hamlet  in  the  parish  of  Hampstead,  is 
named  from  the  priory  situated  near  the  spot  subse- 
quently occupied  by  a  tavern,  or  tea-drinking  house,  at 
a  fine  spring  of  mineral  water,  called  Kilburn  Wells, 
at  the  distance  of  rather  more  than  two  miles  from. 
London,  north-westward,  on  the  Edgeware  Road.  It 
derived   its   origin    from  a  recluse   or   hermit,    named 


The  L  cgcnd  of  Kilbum.  46 1 

Goodwyn,  \\\\o,  retiring  hither  in  the  reign  of  Henry  I., 
for  the  purpose  of  seclusion,  built  a  cell  near  a  little 
rivulet,  called,  in  different  records,  Cuneburna,  Keele- 
bourne,  Coldbourne,  and  Kilbourne,  on  a  site  surrounded 
with  wood.  The  stream  rises  near  West  End,  Hamp- 
stead,  and,  after  passing  through  Kilburn  to  Bayswater, 
it  supplies  the  Serpentine  reservoir  in  Hyde  Park,  and 
eventually  flows  into  the  Thames  near  the  site  of  Rane- 
lagh.  Whether  Goodwyn  grew  weary  of  his  solitude, 
or  from  whatever  cause,  it  appears  from  documents  yet 
extant,  that  between  the  years  1128  and  1134,  he 
granted  his  hermitage  of  Cuncbama  with  the  adjoining 
lands  to  the  conventual  church  of  St  Peter's,  West- 
minster, "  as  an  alms  for  the  redemption  of  the  whole 
convent  of  brethren,"  under  the  same  conditions  and 
privileges  with  which  "  King  Ethelrede  had  granted 
Hamstede,'i  to  which  manor  Kilburn  had  previously 
appertained,  to  the  same  church. 

There  is  a  curious  traditionary  relation  connected 
with  Kilburn  Priory,  which,  however,  is  not  traceable  to 
any  authentic  source.  The  legend  states,  that  at  a  place 
called  Saint  John's  Wood,  near  Kilburn,  there  was  a 
stone  of  a  dark-red  colour,  which  was  the  stain  of  the 
blood  of  Sir  Gervase  de  Mertoun,  which  flowed  upon  it 
a  few  centuries  ago.  Stephen  de  Mertoun,  being  ena- 
moured of  his  brother's  wife,  frequently  insulted  her 
by  the  avowal  of  his  passion,  which  she,  at  length, 
threatened  to  make  known  to  Sir  Gervase ;  to  prevent 
which,  Stephen  resolved  to  waylay  his  brother,  and  slay 
him.  This  he  effected  by  seizing  him  in  a  narrow  lane, 
and  stabbing  him  in  the  back,  whereupon  he  fell  upon  a 
projecting  rock,  which  became  dyed  with  his  blood.  In 
his    expiring    moments    Sir   Gervase,    recognising    hig 


462  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

brother,  upbraided  him  with  his  cruelty,  adding,  "  This 
stone  shall  be  thy  deathbed." 

Stephen  returned  to  Kilburn,  and  his  brother's  lady 
still  refusing  to  listen  to  his  criminal  proposals,  he  con- 
fined her  in  a  dungeon,  and  strove  to  forget  his  many 
crimes  by  a  dissolute  enjoyment  of  his  wealth  and 
power.  Oppressed,  however,  by  his  troubled  conscience, 
he  determined  upon  submitting  to  religious  penance  ; 
and,  ordering  his  brother's  remains  to  be  removed  to 
Kilburn,  he  gave  directions  for  their  re-interment  in  a 
handsome  mausoleum,  erected  with  stone  brought  from 
the  quarry  where  the  murder  was  committed.  The 
identical  stone  on  which  his  murdered  brother  had 
expired  formed  a  part  of  the  tomb ;  and  the  eye  of  the 
murderer  resting  upon  it,  the  legend  adds,  blood zvas  seen 
to  issue  from  it !  Struck  with  horror,  the  murderer 
hastened  to  the  Bishop  of  London,  and,  making  con- 
fession of  his  guilt,  demised  his  property  to  the  Priory 
of  Kilburn.  Having  thus  acted  in  atonement  for  his 
misdeeds,  grief  and  remorse  quickly  consigned  him  to 
the  grave. 

Omens  to  Charles  I.  and  James  II. 

In  the  career  of  these  unfortunate  monarchs  we  fall 
upon  some  striking  prophecies,  not  verbal  but  symbolic, 
if  we  turn  from  the  broad  highway  of  public  histories 
to  the  by-paths  of  private  memoirs.  Either  Clarendon, 
it  is,  in  his  Life  (not  his  public  history),  or  else  Laud, 
who  mentions  an  anecdote  connected  with  the  corona- 
tion of  Charles  I.  (the  son-in-law  of  the  murdered 
Bourbon),  which  threw  a  gloom  upon  the  spirits  of  the 
royal  friends,  already  saddened  by  the  dreadful  pesti- 


Omens  to  Charles  I  and  James  II.  463 

lence  which  inaugurated  the  reign  of  this  ill-fated 
prince,  levying  a  tribute  of.  one  life  in  sixteen  from  the 
population  of  the  English  metropolis.  At  the  corona- 
tion of  Charles,  it  was  discovered  that  all  London  would 
not  furnish  the  quantity  of  purple  velvet  required  for 
the  royal  robes  and  the  furniture  of  the  throne.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  Decorum  required  that  the  furniture 
should  be  all  en  suite.  Nearer  than  Genoa  no  consider- 
able addition  could  be  expected.  That  would  impose 
a  delay  of  150  days.  Upon  mature  consideration,  and 
chiefly  of  the  many  private  interests  that  would  suffer 
amongst  the  multitudes  whom  such  a  solemnity  had 
called  up  from  the  country,  it  was  resolved  to  robe  the 
Kins:  in  white  velvet.  But  this,  as  it  afterwards  occurred, 
was  the  colour  in  which  victims  were  arrayed.  And 
thus,  it  was  alleged,  did  the  King's  council  establish  an 
augury  of  evil.  Three  other  ill  omens,  of  some  celebrity, 
occurred  to  Charles  I. — viz.,  on  occasion  of  creating  his 
son  Charles  a  Knight  of  the  Bath ;  at  Oxford  some 
years  after ;  and  at  the  bar  of  that  tribunal  which  sat  in 
judgment  upon  him. 

The  reign  of  his  second  son,  James  II.,  the  next  reign 
that  could  be  considered  an  unfortunate  reign,  was  in- 
augurated by  the  same  evil  omens.  The  day  selected 
for  the  coronation  (in  1685)  was  a  day  memorable  for 
England — it  was  St  George's  day,  the  23rd  of  April, 
and  entitled,  even  on  a  separate  account,  to  be  held  a 
sacred  day  as  the  birthday  of  Shakespeare  in  1564,  and 
his  deathday  in  1616.  The  King  saved  a  sum  of  sixty 
thousand  pounds  by  cutting  off  the  ordinary  cavalcade 
from  the  Tower  of  London  to  Westminster.  Even  this 
was  imprudent.  It  is  well  known  that,  amongst  the 
lowest  class  of  the  English,  there  is  an  obstinate  pre- 


464  Romance  of  London. 

judice  (though  unsanctioned  by  law)  with  respect  to  the 
obligation  imposed  by  the  ceremony  of  coronation.  So 
long  as  this  ceremony  is  delayed,  or  mutilated,  they 
fancy  that  their  obedience  is  a  matter  of  mere  prudence, 
liable  to  be  enforced  by  arms,  but  not  consecrated  either 
by  law  or  by  religion.  The  change  made  by  James  was, 
therefore,  highly  imprudent ;  shorn  of  its  antique  tradi- 
tionary usages,  the  yoke  of  conscience  was  lightened 
at  a  moment  when  it  required  a  double  ratification. 
Neither  was  it  called  for  on  motives  of  economy,  for 
James  was  unusually  rich.  This  voluntary  arrangement 
was,  therefore,  a  bad  beginning ;  but  the  accidental 
omens  were  worse.  They  are  thus  reported  by  Blenner- 
hassett  {History  of  England  to  the  end  of  George  I.,  vol. 
iv.  p.  1760,  printed  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  175 1). 
"  The  crown  being  too  little  for  the  king's  head,  was 
often  in  a  tottering  condition,  and  like  to  fall  off." 
Even  this  was  observed  attentively  by  spectators  of  the 
most  opposite  feelings.  But  there  was  another  simul- 
taneous omen,  which  affected  the  Protestant  enthusiasts, 
and  the  superstitious,  whether  Catholic  or  Protestant, 
still  more  alarmingly.  "  The  same  day  the  king's  arms, 
pompously  painted  in  the  great  altar  window  of  a  Lon- 
don church,  suddenly  fell  down  without  apparent  cause, 
and  broke  to  pieces,  whilst  the  rest  of  the  window 
remained  standing."  Blennerhassett  mutters  the  dark 
terrors  which  possessed  himself  and  others.  "  These," 
says  he,  "were  reckoned  ill  omens  to  the  king." 


Premonition  and  Vision  to  Dr  Donne.  465 


Premonition  and  I  rision  to  Dr  Donne. 

In  the  crypt  of  St  Paul's  Cathedral  is  a  monumental 
effigy,  in  a  winding-sheet,  a  piece  of  sculpture  which 
excites  more  curiosity  than  many  a  modern  memorial 
in  the  church.  This  is  the  portrait  in  stone  of  John 
Donne,  Dean  of  St  Paul's,  and  a  poet  of  great  power 
and  touching  sweetness,  a  writer  of  nervous  prose,  and 
an  eloquent  preacher.  In  Walton's  life  of  him,  there  is 
something  remarkably  affecting  in  that  passage  wherein 
there  is  the  foreboding  of  ill  in  the  mind  of  Donne's 
wife — and  the  account  of  the  vision  which  appeared  to 
him.  At  this  time  of  Mr  Donne's  and  his  wife's  living  in 
Sir  Robert's  house,  in  Drury  Lane  (Sir  R.  Drewry),  the 
Lord  Hay  was  by  King  James  sent  upon  a  glorious 
embassy  to  the  French  king,  Henry  IV. ;  and  Sir  Robert 
put  on  a  sudden  resolution  to  subject  Mr  Donne  to  be 
his  companion  in  that  journey.  And  this  desire  was 
suddenly  made  known  to  his  wife,  who  was  then  with 
child,  and  otherwise  under  so  dangerous  a  habit  of  body 
as  to  her  health,  that  she  protested  an  unwillingness  to 
allow  him  any  absence  from  her,  saying  her  divining 
soul  boded  her  some  ill  in  his  absence,  and  therefore 
desired  him  not  to  leave  her.  This  made  Mr  Donne  lay 
aside  all  thoughts  of  his  journey,  and  really  to  resolve 
against  it.  But  Sir  Robert  became  restless  in  his 
persuasions  for  it,  and  Mr  Donne  was  so  generous  as  to 
think  he  had  sold  his  liberty  when  he  had  received  so 
many  charitable  kindnesses  from  him — and  told  his  wife 
so  ;  who,  therefore,  with  an  unwilling  willingness,  did 
give  a  faint  consent  to  the  journey,  which  was  proposed 
to  be  but  for  two  months  :  within  a  few  days  after  this 

VOL.  I.  2  O 


4.66  Romance  of  London. 

resolve,  the  Ambassador,  Sir  Robert,  and  Mr  Donne, 
left  London,  and  were  the  twelfth  day  got  safe  to  Paris. 
Two  days  after  their  arrival  there,  Mr  Donne  was  left 
alone  in  the  room,  where  Sir  Robert  and  he,  with  some 
others,  had  dined :  to  this  place  Sir  Robert  returned 
within  half-an-hour,  and  as  he  left,  so  he  found  Mr 
Donne  alone,  but  in  such  an  ecstacy,  and  so  altered  as  to 
his  looks,  as  amazed  Sir  Robert  to  behold  him,  insomuch 
as  he  earnestly  desired  Mr  Donne  to  declare  what  had 
befallen  him  in  the  short  time  of  his  absence ;  to  which 
Mr  Donne  was  not  able  to  make  a  present  answer,  but 
after  a  long  and  perplexed  pause,  said — "  I  have  seen  a 
dreadful  vision  since  I  saw  you  ;  I  have  seen  my  dear 
wife  pass  twice  by  me  through  this  room,  with  her  hair 
hanging  about  her  shoulders,  and  a  dead  child  in  her 
arms  ;  this  I  have  seen  since  I  saw  you."  To  which  Sir 
Robert  replied,  "  Here,  sir,  you  have  slept  since  I  saw 
you,  and  this  is  the  result  of  some  melancholy  dream, 
which  I  desire  you  to  forget,  for  you  are  now  awake." 
To  which  Mr  Donne  replied,  "  I  cannot  be  surer  that  I 
now  live,  than  that  I  have  not  slept  since  I  saw  you ;  and 
I  am  as  sure  that,  at  her  second  appearing,  she  stopped 
and  looked  me  in  the  face  and  vanished." 

Rest  and  sleep  had  not  altered  Mr  Donne's  opinion 
the  next  day,  for  he  then  affirmed  this  vision  with  a 
more  deliberate  and  so  confirmed  a  confidence,  that  he 
inclined  Sir  Robert  to  a  faint  belief  that  the  vision  was 
true.  It  is  well  said  that  desire  and  doubt  have  no  rest, 
and  it  proved  so  with  Sir  Robert ;  for  he  immediately 
sent  a  servant  to  Drury  House,  with  a  charge  to  hasten 
back,  and  bring  him  word  whether  Mrs  Donne  were 
alive,  and  if  alive,  in  what  condition  she  was  as  to  her 
health.     The  twelfth  day  the  messenger  returned  with 


Premonition  and  Vision  to  Dr  Donne.  467 

this  account : — "  That  he  found  and  left  Mrs  Donne 
very  sad  and  sick  in  her  bed  ;  and  that,  after  a  long 
and  dangerous  labour,  she  had  been  delivered  of  a  dead 
child.  And,  upon  examination,  the  abortion  proved  to 
be  the  same  day,  and  about  the  very  hour  that  Mr 
Donne  affirmed  he  saw  her  pass  by  him  in  his 
chamber." 

There  is  much  good  sense  and  true  feeling  in  the 
observations  of  good  Izaac  Walton  upon  this  case — so 
delightful  is  the  quaint  style,  which  is  the  good  plain 
dress  of  truth  :  "  This,"  he  adds,  "is  a  relation  that  will 
beget  some  wonder,  and  it  well  may,  for  most  of  our 
world  are  at  present  possessed  with  an  opinion  that 
visions  and  miracles  are  ceased.  And  though  it  is  most 
certain  that  two  lutes,  being  both  strung  and  tuned  to 
an  equal  pitch,  and  then  one  played  upon,  the  other  that 
is  not  touched,  being  laid  upon  a  table,  will  (like  an  echo 
to  a  trumpet)  warble  a  faint  audible  harmony  in  answer 
to  the  same  tune  ;  yet  many  will  not  believe  there  is 
any  such  thing  as  a  sympathy  of  souls ;  and  I  am  well 
pleased  that  every  reader  do  enjoy  his  own  opinion." 

Walton  says  he  had  not  this  story  from  Donne  him- 
self, but  from  a  "  Person  of  Honour,"  who  "  knew  more 
of  the  secrets  of  his  heart  than  any  person  then  living," 
and  who  related  it  "with  such  circumstance  and  asseve- 
ration," that,  not  to  say  anything  of  his  hearer's  belief, 
Walton  did  "verily  believe"  that  the  gentleman  "him- 
self believed  it." 

Drury  House  was  in  the  parish  of  St  Clement's 
Danes,  in  the  Strand.  Donne,  soon  after  his  wife's 
death,  preached  in  the  church  a  sermon,  taking  for  his 
text,  "  Lo,  I  am  the  man  that  have  seen  affliction."  He 
also    had    erected    in    the    church    his  wife's    tomb   by 


468  Romance  of  London. 

Nicholas  Stone  ;  it  was  destroyed  when  St  Clement's 
Church  was  rebuilt  in  16S0. 


Apparition  in  the  Tower. 

AUBREY  relates,  in  his  Miscellanies,  "  Sir  William  Dug- 
dale  did  inform  me  that  Major-General  Middleton  (since 
Lord)  went  into  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  to  endeavour 
to  make  a  party  for  Charles  I. ;  an  old  gentleman  (that 
was  second-sighted)  came  and  told  him  that  his  endea- 
vour was  good,  but  he  would  not  be  successful :  and, 
moreover,  that  they  would  put  the  king  to  death,  and 
that  several  other  attempts  would  be  made,  but  all  in 
vain  ;  but  that  his  son  would  come  in,  but  not  reign,  but 
at  last  would  be  restored."  This  Lord  Middleton  had  a 
great  friendship  with  the  Laird  Bocconi,  and  they  had 
made  an  agreement,  that  the  first  of  them  that  died 
should  appear  to  the  other  in  extremity.  The  Lord 
Middleton  was  taken  prisoner  at  Worcester  fight,  and 
was  prisoner  in  the  Tower  of  London  under  three  locks. 
Lying  in  his  bed  pensive,  Bocconi  appeared  to  him :  my 
Lord  Middleton  asked  him  if  he  were  dead  or  alive  ?  he 
said,  dead,  and  that  he  was  a  ghost ;  and  told  him  that 
within  three  days  he  would  escape,  and  he  did  so,  in  his 
wife's  clothes.  When  he  had  done  his  message,  he  gave 
a  frisk,  and  said : — 

Given?ii,  Givenni,  'tis  very  strange, 

In  the  world  to  see  so  sudden  a  change. 

And  then  gathered  up  and  vanished.  This  account  Sir 
William  Dugdale  had  from  the  Bishop  of  Edinburgh. 
And  this  (says  Aubrey)  he  hath  writ  in  a  book  of  mis- 


Lilly,  tJic  Astrologer.  469 

ccllanies,  which  I  have  seen,  and  is  now  deposited  with 
other  books  of  his  in  the  Museum  of  Oxford. 


Lilly,  the  Astrologer. 

LILLY  lived  in  credulous  times.  He  first  acquired  a 
taste  for  fortune-telling  by  accompanying  his  mistress 
to  "  a  cunning  or  wise  man/'  as  to  the  chance  of  surviv- 
ing her  husband,  with  whom  she  was  dissatisfied.  When 
she  died,  Lilly,  who  had  been  her  surgical  attendant, 
found  attached  to  her  armpit  a  bag  in  which  were  several 
sigils,  as  he  terms  them  ;  the  obtaining  of  which  contri- 
buted to  strengthen  his  predilection  for  the  occult  sciences. 
He  chanced  to  become  acquainted  with  an  eccentric 
personage  named  Evans,  who  gave  him  the  first  bent 
toward  the  studies  which  tinctured  so  strongly  his  future 
life.  Lilly  studied  for  some  time  under  Evans,  until 
they  quarrelled  regarding  the  casting  of  a  figure,  when 
the  teacher  and  pupil  parted.  Our  hero  had  already 
bought  a  great  quantity  of  astrological  books,  and  was 
so  far  initiated  as  to  carry  on  his  pursuit  without  assist- 
ance. 

He  retired  to  the  country  for  four  or  five  years  ;  after 
which,  in  164.1,  "perceiving  there  was  money  to  be  got 
in  London,"  he  returned  thither,  and  began  assiduously 
to  labour  in  his  vocation.  He  soon  became  known,  more 
especially  as  he  did  not  content  himself  with  practising 
the  arts  of  prophesying  and  magic  in  private,  but  also 
published  a  work,  termed  Merlin  the  Younger,  which  he 
continued  subsequently  to  issue  as  a  periodical  almanack. 
This  arrested  the  attention  of  men  very  speedily,  and  his 
fame  became  universal. 


4/0  Romance  of  London. 

One  of  his  trumpery  bundles  of  periodical  prophecies 
attracted  the  anxious  attention  of  Parliament,  whose 
members,  not  altogether  approving  of  some  of  the 
author's  dark  sayings,  ordered  him  to  be  imprisoned. 
As  the  sergeant-at-arms,  however,  was  conveying  him 
away,  a  personage  stepped  forward,  who  saved  the  as- 
trologer from  the  distress  of  a  long  imprisonment,  which, 
after  he  was  once  in  gaol,  might  have  been  his  doom. 
"  Oliver  Cromwell,  lieutenant-general  of  the  army,  having 
never  seen  me,  caused  me  to  be  produced  again,  where 
he  steadfastly  beheld  me  for  a  good  space,  and  then  I 
went  with  the  messenger."  Nevertheless,  he  was  not 
taken  at  that  time  to  gaol,  and  though  he  gave  himself 
up  to  custody  next  day  from  motives  of  deference  to 
the  Parliament,  he  was  liberated  again  immediately  by 
Cromwell's  interposition.  Whether  or  not  Cromwell 
believed  in  the  astrologer's  power,  it  is  impossible  to  say, 
but  certainly  he  and  his  party  owed  some  gratitude  to 
Lilly.  At  the  siege  of  Colchester,  when  the  parliamen- 
tarian soldiers  grew  doubtful  of  the  issue  of  the  attack, 
and  slackened  somewhat  in  their  exertions,  Lilly  and 
another  person  of  the  same  character  were  sent  for  to 
encourage  the  besiegers,  which  they  did  by  predicting 
the  speedy  surrender  of  the  place,  as  it  really  fell  out. 
Another  example  of  the  same  kind  occurred  when  Crom- 
well was  in  Scotland.  On  the  eve  of  one  of  the  battles 
fought  by  Oliver,  a  soldier  mounted  himself  on  an  emi- 
nence, and  as  the  troops  filed  past  him,  he  cried  out, 
"  Lo,  hear  what  Lilly  saith  ;  you  are  in  this  month  pro- 
mised victory  ;  fight  it  out,  brave  boys — and  then  read 
that  month's  prediction  !  " 

Our  astrologer  declares  that,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
Civil  War,  his  opinions  leant  decidedly  to  the  side  of  the 


Lilly,  the  Astrologer.  471 

Royalists,  until  they  gave  him  some  ground  of  offence. 
His  sentiments  in  reality,  however,  appear  to  have  been 
strongly  guided  by  the  circumstance  of  which  party  was 
at  the  time  uppermost.  He  prophesied  first  for  the 
King  ;  when  his  cause  declined,  our  hero  prophesied 
stoutly  for  the  Parliament ;  and  when  its  influence  waned, 
he  put  forth  some  broad  hints  of  its  approaching  fall. 
King  Charles  himself  put  great  confidence  in  the  powers 
of  Lilly  ;  for  at  the  time  of  his  stay,  or  rather  confine- 
ment, at  Hampton  Court,  when  he  meditated  an  escape 
from  the  soldiery  that  surrounded  him,  he  despatched  a 
secret  messenger  to  the  astrologer,  desiring  him  to  pro- 
nounce what  would  be  the  safest  place  of  refuge  and 
concealment.  Lilly  erected  a  figure  and  gave  an  answer, 
but  the  prediction  was  not  put  to  the  proof;  the  King, 
before  it  could  be  acted  on,  being  removed  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight.  In  his  Memoirs,  Lilly  boasts  that  he  procured 
for  Charles,  when  in  Carrisbroke  Castle,  a  file  and  a 
bottle  of  aqua-fortis,  with  which  to  sever  the  bars  of  his 
window  asunder. 

Next,  the  House  of  Commons,  after  the  Great  Fire  of 
London,  called  the  astrologer  once  more  before  them, 
and  examined  him  as  to  his  forc-knoivlcdge  of  that 
calamity,  which  was  then  attributed  to  conspirators. 
Lilly  answered  them  in  the  following  words  :  "  May  it 
please  your  honours,  after  the  beheading  of  the  late 
King,  considering  that  in  the  three  subsequent  years  the 
Parliament  acted  nothing  which  concerned  the  settle- 
ment of  the  nation  in  peace ;  and  seeing  the  generality 
of  the  people  dissatisfied,  the  citizens  of  London  dis- 
contented, and  the  soldiery  prone  to  mutiny,  I  was 
desirous,  according  to  the  best  knowledge  God  had 
given  me,  to  make  inquiry  by  the  art  I  studied,  what 


47 2  Romance  of  L oudon. 

might  from  that  time  happen  unto  the  Parliament  and 
the  nation  in  general.  At  last,  having  satisfied  myself 
as  well  as  I  could,  and  perfected  my  judgment  therein,  I 
thought  it  most  convenient  to  signify  my  intentions  and 
conceptions  thereof,  in  types,  hieroglyphics,  &c,  without 
any  commentary,  that  so  my  judgment  might  be  con- 
cealed from  the  vulgar,  and  made  manifest  only  to  the 
wise — I  herein  imitating  the  examples  of  many  wise 
philosophers  who  had  done  the  like.  .  .  .  Having  found 
that  the  city  of  London  should  be  sadly  afflicted  with  a 
Great  Plague,  and  not  long  after  with  an  exorbitant 
Fire,  I  framed  these  hieroglyphics  as  represented  in  my 
book,  which  have  in  effect  proved  very  true,"  One  of 
the  wiseacres  of  the  Committee  then  asked  him,  "  Did 
you  foresee  the  year  ?  "  "  I  did  not,"  replied  Lilly,  "  nor 
was  desirous  ;  of  that  I  made  no  scrutiny."  The  astro- 
loger then  told  them  that  he  had  found,  after  much 
pains,  that  the  fire  was  not  of  man,  but  of  God. 

To  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  folly  which  could 
believe  him  to  have  predicted  the  Fire  and  Plague,  we 
may  mention  that,  in  the  book  where  the  prophecy  is 
said  to  occur,  he  gives  sixteen  pages  of  woodcuts,  being 
enigmatical  emblems  of  what  was  to  befall  the  city  for 
many  hundred  years  to  come.  On  the  eighth  page  is  a 
set  of  graves  and  zvinding-sliects,  and  the  thirteenth  some 
houses  on  fire,  and  this  is  the  prediction  !  The  Fire  and 
Plague  were  almost  in  one  year,  and  the  figures  in  the 
book  are  in  very  different  places,  though  he  meant  the 
emblems  to  indicate  consecutive  events.  Besides,  a 
rebellion  would  have  filled  the  graves,  a  burnt  warehouse 
would  have  answered  the  figure  fire,  just  as  well  as  the 
plague  or  the  burning  of  half  the  city.  The  hiero- 
glyphics", we  may  add,  depicted  every  event  under  the 


Lilly,  the  Astrologer.  473 

sun,  so  that  the  astrologer  in  no  case  could  have  been 
put  out.  The  inferior  and  uneducated  classes  of  the 
community  followed,  with  blind  superstition,  the  example 
set  before  them  by  their  betters.  Love,  sickness,  trade, 
marriage,  and  on  a  thousand  other  subjects,  was  the 
astrologer  daily  consulted,  not  only  by  the  citizens  of 
London,  but  by  residents  in  every  corner  of  the  land. 
And  so  skilfully  and  equivocally  did  he  frame  his  re- 
sponses, that  he  was  very  seldom  brought  into  annoy- 
ance from  the  failure  of  his  predictions.  This  was 
fortunate  for  him,  for  though  the  courts  of  law  would 
not  meddle  with  a  true  prophet,  they  did  not  scruple  to 
punish  a  bungler  in  the  art.  On  one  occasion,  a  "  half- 
witted young  woman  "  brought  him  before  the  courts  to 
answer  for  having  taken  two-and-sixpence  from  her  for 
a  prediction  regarding  stolen  goods.  Lilly  spoke  for 
himself,  and  having  satisfied  the  court  that  astrology 
was  a  lawful  art,  he  got  easily  off  by  proving  the  woman 
to  be  half  mad. 

Of  his  success  in  deception,  there  exist  abundance  of 
proofs.  The  number  of  his  dupes  was  not  confined  to 
the  vulgar  and  illiterate,  but  included  individuals  of  real 
worth  and  learning,  who  courted  his  acquaintance  and 
respected  his  predictions.  We  know  not  whether  it 
"should  more  move  our  anger  or  our  mirth  "  to  see  an 
assemblage  of  British  senators — the  contemporaries  of 
Milton  and  Clarendon,  of  Hampden  and  Falkland — in 
an  age  which  roused  into  action  so  many  and  such 
mighty  energies,  gravely  engaged  in  ascertaining  the 
causes  of  a  great  national  calamity,  from  the  prescience 
of  a  knavish  fortune-teller,  and  puzzling  their  wisdoms 
to  interpret  the  symbolical  flames  which  blazed  in  the 
mis-shapen  woodcuts  of  his  oracular  publications.    From 


474  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

this  disgrace  to  the  wisdom  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
we  have  to  make  one  memorable  exception. 

Butler,  in  his  Hudibras,  has  inimitably  portrayed 
Lilly  under  the  character  of  Sidrophel ;  nearly  all  that 
the  poet  has  ascribed  to  him,  as  Dr  Grey  remarks,  in  his 
annotations,  the  reader  will  find  verified  in  his  autobio- 
graphy : — 

Quoth  Ralph,  Not  far  from  hence  doth  dwell 
A  cunning  man,  hight  Sidrophel, 
That  deals  in  Destiny's  dark  Counsels, 
And  sage  Opinions  of  the  Moon  sells, 
To  whom  all  People  far  and  near 
On  deep  Importances  repair  ; 
When  Brass  and  Pewter  hap  to  stray, 
And  Linen  slinks  out  of  the  way  ; 
When  Geese  and  Pullen  are  seduced, 
And  Sows  of  Sucking  Pigs  are  chows'd  ; 
When  Cats  do  feel  indisposition 
And  need  the  opinion  of  Physician  ; 
When  Murrain  reigns  in  Hogs  and  Sheep, 
And  Chickens  languish  of  the  Pip ; 
When  Yeast  and  outward  means  do  fail 
And  have  no  power  to  work  on  Ale  ; 
When  Butter  does  refuse  to  come, 
And  Love  grows  cross  and  humoiirsome, 
To  Him  with  Questions  and  with  Urine 
They  for  Discovery  flock,  or  Curing. 

Hudibras,  Part  ii.  Canto  3. 

Of  Lilly's  Wliite  King's  Prophecy  eighteen  hundred 
copies  were  sold  in  three  days,  and  it  was  oft  reprinted. 
Lilly  left  to  a  tailor,  whom  he  had  adopted,  the  copy- 
right of  this  almanack,  which  he  had  continued  f 
lish  for  thirty  successive  years. 


Touching  for  the  Evil.  475 


Touching  for  the  Evil. 

The  Touching'  for  Disease  by  the  royal  hand  is  men- 
tioned by  Peter  of  Blois  in  the  twelfth  century  ;  and  it 
is  stated  to  be  traceable  to  Edward  the  Confessor.  Sir 
John  Fortescue,  in  his  defence  of  the  house  of  Lancaster 
against  that  of  York,  argued  that  the  crown  could  not 
descend  to  a  female,  because  the  Queen  is  not  qualified 
by  the  form  of  anointing  her,  used  at  the  coronation,  to 
cure  the  disease  called  "  the  King's  Evil."  Aubrey  re- 
fers to  "the  king's  evill,  from  the  king  curing  of  it  with 
his  touch."  This  miraculous  gift  was  almost  reserved 
for  the  Stuarts  to  claim.  Dr  Ralph  Bathurst,  one  of  the 
chaplains  to  King  Charles  I.,  "no  superstitious  man," 
says  Aubrey,  protested  to  him  that  "  the  curing  of  the 
king's  evill  by  the  touch  of  the  king  doth  puzzle  his 
philosophic  ;  for  when  they  were  of  the  House  of  Yorke 
or  Lancaster,  it  did."  The  solemn  words,  "  I  touch,  but 
God  healeth,"  were  always  pronounced  by  the  sovereign 
when  he  "touched"  or  administered  "the  sovereign 
salve,"  as  Bulwer  calls  it.  Then  we  read  of  vervain  root 
and  baked  toads  being  worn  in  silken  bags  around  the 
neck,  as  charms  for  the  evil. 

The  practice  of  touching  was  at  its  full  height  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  II. ;  and  in  the  first  four  years  after  his 
restoration  he  "touched"  nearly 24,000  persons.  Pepys, 
in  his  Diary,  June  23,  1666,  records  how  he  waited  at 
Whitehall,  "  to  see  the  king  touch  people  for  the  king's 
evil."  He  did  not  come,  but  kept  the  poor  persons 
waiting  all  the  morning  in  the  rain  in  the  garden : 
"  afterward  he  touched  them  in  the  banqueting-house." 
The   practice   was   continued    by   Charles's  successors. 


4/6  Romance  of  London. 

The  Hon.  Dairies  Barrington  tells  of  an  old  man  who 
was  witness  in  a  cause,  and  averred  that  when  Oueen 
Anne  was  at  Oxford,  she  touched  him,  then  a  child,  for 
the  evil :  the  old  man  added,  that  he  did  not  believe 
himself  to  have  had  the  evil;  but  "his  parents  were 
poor,  and  he  had  no  objection  to  a  bit  of  gold."  Again, 
Dr  Johnson,  when  a  boy,  was  taken  by  his  father  from 
Lichfield  to  London  to  be  touched  for  the  evil  by 
Queen  Anne,  in  17 12,  and  whom  Johnson  described  as 
a  lady  in  diamonds,  and  a  long  black  hood.  Mrs  Bray 
speaks  of  a  "  Queen  Anne's  farthing  "  being  a  charm  for 
curing  the  king's  evil  in  Devonshire. 

At  a  late  period,  the  use  of  certain  coins  was  in  com- 
mon vogue,  which,  being  touched  by  the  king,  were 
supposed  to  have  the  power  of  warding  off  evil  or 
scrofula.  These  coins  are  called  Royal  Touch-pieces : 
several  are  preserved  in  the  British  Museum  ;  and  Mr 
Roach  Smith  has  one  which  has  been  so  extensively 
used  that  the  impression  is  quite  abraded.  The  Pre- 
tender had  his  touch-pieces,  and  thought  that  he  had  a 
right  to  the  English  crown,  and  therefore  had  the  power 
to  confer  the  royal  cure  :  probably,  the  claim,  in  either 
case,  was  equal. 

"  The  practice  was  supposed  to  have  expired  with  the 
Stuarts;  but  the  point  being  disputed,  reference  was 
made  to  the  library  of  the  Duke  of  Sussex,  and  four 
several  Oxford  editions  of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer 
were  found,  all  printed  after  the  accession  of  the  House 
of  Hanover,  and  all  containing  as  an  integral  part  of  the 
service  'the  office  for  the  healing.'" — Lord  Bray broohe's 
Notes  to  Pepyss  Diary. 


David  Ramsay  and  the  Divining  Rod.  477 

David  Ramsay  and  the  Divining-Rod. 

AMONG  the  many  strange  tales  told  of  the  mysterious 
use  of  the  Divining-rod  is  the  following  in  Lilly's  Life 
and  Times : — 

"In  the  year  1634,  David  Ramsay,  his  Majesty's 
clock-maker,  had  been  informed  that  there  was  a  great 
quantity  of  treasure  buried  in  the  cloister  of  West- 
minster Abbey  ;  he  acquaints  Dean  Williams  therewith, 
who  was  also  then  Bishop  of  Lincoln  ;  the  Dean  gave 
him  liberty  to  search  after  it,  with  this  proviso,  that  if 
any  was  discovered,  his  church  should  have  a  share  of 
it.  Davy  Ramsay  finds  out  one  John  Scott,  who  pre- 
tended the  use  of  the  Mosaical  rods,  to  assist  him 
herein.  I  was  desired  to  join  with  him,  unto  which  I 
consented.  One  winter's  night,  Davy  Ramsay,  with 
several  gentlemen,  myself,  and  Scott,  entered  the 
cloisters ;  we  played  the  hazel  rod  round  about  the 
cloister  ;  upon  the  west  side  of  the  cloisters  the  rods 
moved  one  over  another,  an  argument  that  the  treasure 
was  there.  The  labourers  digged  at  least  six  feet  deep, 
and  there  we  met  with  a  coffin  ;  but  in  regard  it  was  not 
heavy,  we  did  not  open,  which  we  afterwards  much 
repented.  From  the  cloisters  we  went  into  the  Abbey- 
church,  where,  upon  a  sudden  (there  being  no  wind  when 
we  began),  so  fierce,  so  high,  so  blustering  and  loud  a 
wind  did  rise,  that  we  verily  believed  the  west  end  of  the 
church  would  have  fallen  upon  us.  Our  rods  would  not 
move  at  all ;  the  candles  and  torches,  all  but  one,  were 
extinguished,  or  burned  very  dimly.  John  Scott,  my 
partner,  was  amazed,  looked  pale,  knew  not  what  to 
think  or  do,  until   I  gave  directions  and  command  to 


4/3  Romance  of  London. 

dismiss  the  demons  ;  which,  when  done,  all  was  quiet 
again,  and  each  man  returned  to  his  lodging  late,  about 
twelve  o'clock  at  night.  I  could  never  since  be  induced 
to  join  with  any  in  such  like  actions  (Davy  Ramsay 
brought  a  half-quartern  sack  to  put  the  treasure  in). 

"The  true  miscarriage  of  the  business  was  by  reason 
of  so  many  people  being  present  at  the  operation,  for 
there  were  about  thirty,  some  laughing,  others  deriding 
us  ;  so  that  if  we  had  not  dismissed  the  demons,  I 
believe  most  part  of  the  Abbey  church  had  been  blown 
down.  Secrecy  and  intelligent  operators,  with  a  strong 
confidence  and  knowledge  of  what  they  are  doing,  are  best 
for  this  work." 


Lady  Davies,  the  Prophetess. 

The  prophetic  Madame  Davers,  who  is  mentioned  by 
Randolph  in  1638,  is  the  notorious  Lady  Eleanor 
Davies,  the  youngest  daughter  of  George,  Earl  of 
Castlehaven,  and  wife  of  Sir  John  Davies,  Attorney- 
General  for  Ireland.  She  was  a  remarkable  woman, 
but  unfortunately  believed  that  a  prophetic  mantle  had 
descended  upon  her.  The  idea  that  she  was  a  prophetess 
arose  from  finding  that  the  letters  of  her  name,  twisted 
into  an  anagram,  might  be  read,  Reveal,  O  Daniel '! 
For  some  of  her  prophetical  visions  she  was  summoned 
before  the  High  Commission  Court.  "  Much  pains," 
says  Dr  Heylin,  "was  taken  by  the  Court  to  dispossess 
her  of  this  spirit ;  but  all  would  not  do  till  the  Dean  of 
Arches  shot  her  with  an  arrow  from  her  own  quiver,  and 
hit  upon  the  real  anagram.  Dame  Eleanor  Davies, 
Never  so  mad  a  ladic  !      She  was  subsequently  prose- 


Dr  Lamb,  the  Conjuror.  479 

cuted  for  "  An  enthusiastic  epistle  to  King  Charles," 
for  which  she  was  fined  ^"3000,  and  imprisoned  two 
years  in  the  Gatehouse,  Westminster.  Soon  after  the 
death  of  Sir  John  Davies,  she  married  Sir  Archibald 
Douglas,  but  seems  not  to  have  lived  happily  with  either 
of  her  husbands.     She  died  in  the  year  1652. 


Dr  Lamb,  the  Conjuror. 

Dr  John  Lamb,  of  Tardebigger,  in  Worcester,  was  a 
vile  impostor,  who  practised  juggling,  fortune-telling, 
recovering  lost  goods,  and  likewise  picked  the  pockets 
of  lads  and  lasses,  by  showing  the  earthly  countenances 
of  their  future  husbands  and  wives  in  his  crystal  glass. 
He  was  indicted  at  Worcester  for  witchcraft,  &c,  after 
which  he  removed  to  London,  where  he  was  confined 
for  some  time  in  the  King's  Bench  Prison.  He  there 
practised  as  a  doctor  with  great  success,  till,  having 
committed  an  outrage  on  a  young  woman,  he  was  tried 
at  the  Old  Bailey,  but  saved  from  punishment  by  the 
powerful  influence  of  his  patron  and  protector,  Bucking- 
ham, whose  confidential  physician  he  was.  The  popular 
voice  accused  Lamb  of  several  grave  offences,  particularly 
against  women ;  and  on  the  very  same  day  that  the 
Duke  was  denounced  in  the  House  of  Commons  as  the 
cause  of  England's  calamities,  his  dependent  and  doctor 
was  murdered  by  an  infuriated  mob  in  the  city  of 
London.  The  story  of  his  death,  from  a  rare  contem- 
porary pamphlet,  is  worth  transcribing  : — 

"  On  Friday,  he  (Dr  Lamb)  went  to  see  a  play  at  the 
Fortune  Theatre,  in  Golden  Lane,  Cripplcgate,  where 
the  boys  of  tho  town,  and  other  unruly  people,  having 


4S0  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

observed  him  present,  after  the  play  was  ended,  flocked 
about  him,  and  (after  the  manner  of  the  common  people, 
who  follow  a  hubbub  when  it  is  once  set  on  foot)  began 
in  a  confused  manner  to  assault  and  offer  him  violence. 
He,  in  affright,  made  towards  the  city  as  fast  as  he 
could,  and  hired  a  company  of  sailors  that  were  there  to 
be  his  guard.  But  so  great  was  the  fury  of  the  people, 
who  pelted  him  with  stones  and  other  things  that  came 
next  to  hand,  that  the  sailors  had  much  to  do  to  bring 
him  in  safety  as  far  as  Moorgate.  The  rage  of  the 
people  about  that  place  increased  so  much,  that  the 
sailors,  for  their  own  sake,  were  forced  to  leave  the  pro- 
tection of  him ;  and  then  the  multitude  pursued  him 
through  Coleman  Street  to  the  Old  Jewry,  no  house 
being  able  or  daring  to  give  him  protection,  though  he 
attempted  many.  Four  constables  were  there  raised 
to  appease  the  tumult,  who,  all  too  late  for  his  safety, 
brought  him  to  the  Counter  in  the  Poultry,  where  he 
was  bestowed  upon  command  of  the  Lord  Mayor.  For, 
before  he  was  brought  thither,  the  people  had  had  him 
down,  and  with  stones  and  cudgels,  and  other  weapons, 
had  so  beaten  him  that  his  skull  was  broken,  and  all 
parts  of  his  body  bruised  and  wounded  ;  whereupon, 
though  surgeons  in  vain  were  sent  for,  he  never  spoke  a 
word,  but  lay  languishing  till  the  next  morning,  and 
then  died." 

On  the  day  of  Lamb's  death,  placards  containing  the 
following  words  were  displayed  on  the  walls  of  London : 
"  Who  rules  the  kingdom  ? — The  King.  Who  rules  the 
King? — The  Duke.  Who  rules  the  Duke? — The  devil. 
Let  the  Duke  look  to  it,  or  he  will  be  served  as  his 
doctor  was  served."  A  few  weeks  afterwards  the  Duke 
was  assassinated  by  Felton. 


Murder  and  an  Apparition.  48 1 

In  a  very  rare  pamphlet  giving  an  account  of  Lamb 
is  a  woodcut  of  his  "  ignominious  death,"  the  citizens 
and  apprentices  pelting  him  to  death,  June  13,  1628. 


Murder  and  an  Apparition. 

AUBREY  relates,  in  his  Miscellanies,  that  in  1647,  the 
Lord  Mohun's  son  and  heir  (a  gallant  gentleman,  va- 
liant, and  a  great  master  of  fencing  and  horsemanship) 
had  a  quarrel  with  Prince  Griffin  ;  there  was  a  challenge, 
and  they  were  to  fight  on  horseback  in  Chelsea  Fields 
in  the  morning.  Mr  Mohun  went  accordingly  to  meet 
him,  but  about  Ebury  Farm,*  he  was  met  by  some,  who 
quarrelled  with  him  and  pistoled  him ;  it  was  believed, 
by  the  order  of  Prince  Griffin  ;  for  he  was  sure  that  Mr 
Mohun,  being  so  much  the  better  horseman,  would  have 
killed  him  had  they  fought. 

Now,  in  James  Street,  in  Covent  Garden,  did  then 
lodcre  a  crentlewoman,  a  handsome  woman,  but  common, 
who  was   Mr   Mohun's   sweetheart.      Mr   Mohun   was 

*  Ebury  or  Eybury  Farm,  "towards  Chelsea,"  was  a  farm  of  430 
acres,  meadow  and  pasture,  let  on  lease  by  Queen  Elizabeth  (when  we 
hear  of  it  for  the  first  time),  to  a  person  of  the  name  of  Whashe,  who  paid 
£zi  per  annum,  and  by  whom  "  the  same  was  let  to  divers  persons,  who, 
for  their  private  commodity,  did  enclose  the  same,  and  had  made  pastures 
of  arable  land  ;  thereby  not  only  annoying  her  Majesty  in  her  walks  and 
progresses,  but  to  the  hindrance  of  her  game,  and  great  injury  of  the  com- 
mon, which  at  Lammas  was  wont  to  be  laid  open  "  (Strype).  Eybury 
Farm  occupied  the  site  of  what  is  now  Ebury  Square,  and  was  originally 
of  the  nature  of  Lammas-land,  or  land  subject  to  lay  open  as  common, 
after  Lammas-tide,  for  the  benefit  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  parish.  The 
Neat  at  Chelsea  was  of  the  same  description,  and  the  owners  of  Piccadilly 
Hall  and  Leicester  House  paid  Lammas-money  to  the  poor  of  St  Martin's 
long  after  their  houses  were  erected,  as  late  as  the  reign  of  Charles  II. — 
Cunningham's  Handbook  oj  London,  2nd  edit.  p.  172. 

VOL.  I.  2  H 


482  Romance  of  London. 

murdered  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning;  and  at  that 
very  time,  his  mistress,  being  in  bed,  saw  Mr  Mohun 
come  to  her  bedside,  draw  the  curtain,  look  upon  her, 
and  go  away ;  she  called  after  him,  but  no  answer ; 
she  knocked  for  her  maid,  asked  her  for  Mr  Mohun  ;  she 
said  she  did  not  see  him,  and  had  the  key  of  her  cham- 
ber-door in  her  pocket.  This  account  (adds  Aubrey) 
my  friend  aforesaid  had  from  the  gentlewoman's  own 
mouth,  and  her  maid's. 

A  parallel  story  to  this  is,  that  Mr  Brown  (brother- 
in-law  to  the  Lord  Coningsby)  discovered  his  murder 
to  several.  His  phantom  appeared  to  his  sister  and  her 
maid  in  Fleet  Street,  about  the  time  he  was  killed  in 
Herefordshire,  which  was  about  a  year  since,  1693. 


A  Vision  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cher  bury. 

A  PASSAGE  in  the  life  of  this  profound  and  original 
thinker,  but  of  fanciful  temperament,  presents  us  with 
one  of  the  most  striking  instances  recorded  in  modern 
times  of  direct  divine  interposition. 

Lord  Herbert,  who  lived  in  the  reigns  of  James  I.  and 
Charles  I.,  and  who  died  in  the  same  year  as  the  latter 
monarch,  is  described  by  Leland  to  have  been  "of  the 
first  that  formed  deism  into  a  system,  and  asserted  the 
sufficiency,  universality,  and  absolute  perfection,  of 
natural  religion,  with  a  view  to  discard  all  extraordinary 
revelation  as  useless  and  needless.  He  was  inimical  to 
every  positive  religion,  but  admitted  the  possibility  of 
immediate  revelation  from  heaven,  though  he  denied 
that  any  tradition  from  others  could  have  sufficient 
certainty.     Five  fundamental  truths  of  natural  religion 


A   Vision  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Clicrbury.         483 

he  held  to  be  such  as  all  mankind  are  bound  to  acknow- 
ledge, and  damned  those  heathens  who  do  not  receive 
them  as  summarily  as  any  theologian. 

These  opinions  are  the  groundwork  of  Herbert's  work 
De  Veritatc,  &c,  having  completed  which  he  showed  it 
to  the  great  scholar,  Hugo  Grotius,  who  having  perused 
it,  exhorted  him  earnestly  to  print  and  publish  it  ; 
"  howbeit,"  says  Herbert,  in  his  Memoirs,  the  earliest 
instance  of  autobiography  in  our  language,  "as  the 
frame  of  my  whole  book  was  so  different  from  anything 
which  had  been  written  heretofore,  I  found  I  must  either 
renounce  the  authority  of  all  that  had  been  written 
formerly,  concerning  the  method  of  finding  out  truth, 
and  consequently  insist  upon  my  own  way,  or  hazard 
myself  to  a  general  censure,  concerning  the  whole 
argument  of  my  book  ;  I  must  confess  it  did  not  a  little 
animate  me  that  the  two  great  persons  above-mentioned 
(Grotius  and  Tieleners)  did  so  highly  value  it,  yet  as  I 
knew  it  would  meet  with  much  opposition,  I  did  con- 
sider whether  it  was  not  better  for  me  awhile  to  suppress 
it ;  being  thus  doubtful  in  my  chamber,  one  fair  day  in 
the  summer,  my  casement  being  opened  towards  the 
south,  the  sun  shining  clear,  and  no  wind  stirring,  I  took 
my  book  De  Veritate  in  my  hand,  and  kneeling  on  my 
knees,  devoutly  said  these  words  : — 

" '  O  thou  eternal  God,  Author  of  the  light  which  now 
shines  upon  me,  and  giver  of  all  inward  illuminations,  I 
do  beseech  Thee  of  Thy  infinite  goodness  to  pardon  a 
greater  request  than  a  sinner  ought  to  make  ;  I  am  not 
satisfied  enough  whether  I  shall  publish  this  book  De 
Veritate  ;  if  it  be  to  Thy  glory,  I  beseech  Thee  give  me 
some  sign  from  heaven;  if  not,  I  shall  suppress  it.' 

"  I  had  no  sooner  spoken  these  words,  but  a   loud, 


484  Romance  of  L  07idon. 

though  yet  gentle  noise  came  from  the  heavens  (for  it 
was  like  nothing  on  earth),  which  did  so  comfort  and 
cheer  me,  that  I  took  my  petition  as  granted,  and  that 
I  had  the  sign  I  demanded,  whereupon  also  I  resolved 
to  print  my  book  ;  this  (how  strange  soever  it  may 
seem)  I  protest  before  the  eternal  God  is  true,  neither 
am  I  in  any  way  superstitiously  deceived  herein,  since 
I  did  not  only  clearly  hear  the  noise,  but  in  the  serenest 
sky  that  I  ever  saw,  being  without  all  cloud,  did  to  my 
thinking  see  the  place  from  whence  it  came. 

"  And  now  I  sent  my  book  to  be  printed,"  &c. 

Dr  Leland  makes  the  following  observations  on  this 
part  of  the  narrative  : — "  I  have  no  doubt  of  his  lord- 
ship's sincerity  in  the  account.  The  serious  air  with 
which  he  relates  it,  and  the  solemn  protestation  he 
makes,  as  in  the  presence  of  the  eternal  God,  will  not 
suffer  us  to  question  the  truth  of  what  he  relates — viz., 
that  he  both  made  that  address  to  God  which  he  men- 
tions, and  that  in  consequence  of  this,  he  was  persuaded 
that  he  heard  the  noise  he  takes  notice  of,  and  which  he 
took  to  come  from  heaven,  and  regarded  as  a  mark  of 
God's  approbation  of  the  request  he  had  made ;  and, 
accordingly,  this  great  man  was  determined  by  it  to 
publish  the  book.  He  seems  to  have  considered  it  as  a 
kind  of  imprimatur  given  to  him  from  heaven,  and  as 
signifying  the  divine  approbation  of  the  book  itself,  and 
of  what  was  contained  in  it." — View  of  the,  Deistical 
Writers,  i.  27. 

Lord  Herbert  "  dyed  (1648)  at  his  house  in  Queen 
Street,  in  the  parish  of  St  Giles's-in-the-Fields,  very 
serenely ;  asked  what  was  the  clock,  and  then,  sayd  he, 
an  hour  hence  I  shall  depart ;  he  then  turned  his  head 
to  the  other  side  and  expired." — Aubrey's  Lives,  ii.  387. 


A  Vision  on  London  Bridge.  485 


A  Vision  on  London  Bridge. 

In  a  very  rare  and  curious  pamphlet  in  the  Royal 
Library,  in  the  British  Museum,  we  find  the  following 
account  of  a  Vision  seen  upon  London  Bridge  in  March 
1661.  The  book  itself  is  only  a  small  quarto  of  lour 
leaves  ;  but  the  title  is  magnificent :  "  Strange  News 
from  the  West,  being  Sights  seen  in  the  Air  Westward, 
on  Thursday  last,  being  the  21  day  of  the  present 
March,  by  divers  persons  of  credit  standing  on  London 
Bridge  between  7  and  8  of  the  clock  at  night.  Two 
great  Armies  marching  forth  of  two  Clouds,  and  en- 
countering each  other;  but,  after  a  sharp  dispute,  they 
suddenly  vanished.  Also,  some  remarkable  Sights  that 
were  seen  to  issue  forth  of  a  Cloud  that  seemed  like  a 
Mountain,  in  the  shape  of  a  Bull,  a  Bear,  a  Lyon,  and 
an  Elephant  and  Castle  on  his  back,  and  the  manner 
how  they  all  vanished." 

The  following  are  the  details  of  the  vision  : — "  Upon 
the  2 1st  day  of  March,  about,  or  between  7  and  8  of  the 
clock  at  night,  divers  persons  living  in  the  City,  as  they 
came  over  London  Bridge,  discovered  several  clouds  in 
strange  shapes,  at  which  they  suddenly  made  a  stand,  to 
see  what  might  be  the  event  of  so  miraculous  a  change 
in  the  motion  of  the  Heavens.  The  first  cloud  seemed 
to  turn  into  the  form  or  shape  of  a  Cathedral,  with  a 
tower  advancing  from  the  middle  of  it  upwards,  which 
continued  for  a  small  space,  and  then  vanished  away. 
Another  turned  into  a  tree,  spreading  itself  like  an  oak — 
as  near  as  could  be  judged — which,  in  a  short  space, 
vanished.  Between  these  two  was,  as  it  were  standing, 
a  great  mountain,  which  continued  in  the  same  form 


486  Romance  of  London. 

near  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  after  which,  the  mountain 
still  remaining,  there  appeared  several  strange  shapes, 
one  after  another,  issuing  out  of  the  said  mountain, 
about  the  middle  of  the  right  side  thereof;  the  first 
seemed  to  be  formed  like  a  Crokedile,  with  its  mouth 
wide  open  ;  this  continued  a  very  short  space,  and,  by- 
degrees,  was  transformed  into  the  form  of  a  furious 
Bull ;  and,  not  long  after,  it  was  changed  into  the  form 
of  a  Lyon ;  but  it  continued  so  a  short  time,  and  was 
altered  into  a  Bear,  and  soon  after  into  a  Hog,  or  Boar, 
as  near  as  those  could  guess  who  were  spectators.  After 
all  these  shapes  had  appeared,  the  mountain  seemed  to 
be  divided  and  altered  into  the  form  of  two  monstrous 
beasts,  fastened  together  by  the  hinder  parts,  drawing 
one  apart  from  the  other  :  that  which  appeared  on  the 
left  hand  resembled  an  Elephant  with  a  castle  upon  its 
back  ;  that  upon  the  right  hand,  we  could  not  so  well 
determine,  but  it  seemed  to  us  like  a  Lyon,  or  some 
such  like  beast. 

"  The  castle  on  the  back  of  the  Elephant  vanished, 
the  Elephant  himself  losing  his  shape ;  and  where  the 
castle  stood,  there  rose  up  a  small  number  of  men,  as 
we  judged,  about  some  four  or  six  ;  these  were  in  con- 
tinual motion.  The  other  beast,  which  was  beheld  on 
the  right  hand,  seemed  to  be  altered  into  the  form  of  a 
horse,  with  a  rider  on  its  back,  and,  after  a  small  pro- 
portion of  time,  the  whole  vanished,  falling  downward. 
Then  arose  another  great  cloud,  and  in  small  time  it 
formed  itself  into  the  likeness  of  the  head  of  a  great 
Whale,  the  mouth  of  which  stood  wide  open.  After  this, 
at  some  distance,  on  the  right  hand,  appeared  a  cloud, 
which  became  like  unto  a  head  or  cap,  with  a  horn,  or 
ear  on  each  side  thereof,  which  was  of  a  very  consider- 


A   Vision  on  London  Bridge.  487 

able  length.  Between  these  two  rose  a  few  men,  who 
moved  up  and  down  with  a  swift  motion  ;  and  immedi- 
ately after,  they  all  vanished  except  one  man,  who  still 
continued  moving  up  and  down,  with  much  state  and 
majesty.  In  the  meantime  arose  near  adjacent  unto 
this  head,  or  cap,  another  cloud,  out  of  which  cloud 
issued  forth  an  Army,  or  great  body  of  men  ;  and  upon 
the  left  hand  arose  another  Army,  each  of  which 
marched  one  towards  the  other ;  about  this  time  the 
single  man  vanished  away — and  the  two  Armies  seemed 
to  approach  very  near  each  other  and  encounter,  main- 
taining a  combat  one  against  the  other,  and,  after  a 
short  combat,  all  vanished.  During  all  this  time,  there 
seemed  to  our  best  apprehension,  a  flame  of  fire  along 
the  Strand,  towards  the  city  of  London."  Such  is  the 
account  of  these  "  strange  sights,"  as  they  are  truly 
called. 

This  was  the  age  for  seeing  wonders  in  the  air,  which 
it  was  sometimes  dangerous  not  to  see.  The  author  of 
the  History  of  the  Great  Plague  tells  us  that  he  was  in 
some  danger  from  a  crowd  in  St  Giles's,  because  he 
could  not  discover  an  Angel  in  the  air  holding  a  drawn 
sword  in  his  hand. 

The  author  of  the  Chronicles  of  London  Bridge  well 
observes:  "  Minds  of  more  weakness  than  piety  gave  a 
ready  faith  to  such  visions  ;  and  in  convulsed  or  sorrow- 
ful times,  were  often  hearing  voices  which  spake  not, 
and  seeing  signs  which  were  never  visible  :  willing  to 
deceive,  or  be  deceived,  they  saw,  like  Folonius,  clouds 
'  backed  like  an  ousel/  or  '  very  like  a  whale : ' 

"  So  hypochondriac  fancies  represent 
Ships,  armies,  battles,  in  the  firmament ; 
Till  emaller  eyes  the  exhalations  solve, 
And  all  to  its  first  matter,  clouds,  resolve." 


4  8  S  Romance  of  L  ondon. 


A  Mysterious  Lady. 

In  James  Street,  Covent  Garden,  towards  the  begin- 
ning of  the  last  century,  lived  a  mysterious  lady,  who 
died  in  the  month  of  March  1720,  and  was  then  de- 
scribed as  "  unknown."  She  was  a  middle-sized  person, 
with  dark  brown  hair  and  very  beautiful  features,  and 
mistress  of  every  accomplishment  of  high  fashion.  Her 
age  appeared  to  be  between  30  and  40.  Her  circum- 
stances were  affluent,  and  she  possessed  many  rich 
trinkets,  set  with  diamonds.  Mr  John  Ward,  of 
Hackney,  published  several  particulars  of  her  in  the 
newspapers ;  and,  amongst  others,  that  a  servant  had 
been  directed  by  her  to  deliver  him  a  letter  after  her 
death ;  but  as  no  servant  appeared,  he  felt  himself 
required  to  notice  those  circumstances,  in  order  to 
acquaint  her  relations  that  her  death  occurred  suddenly 
after  a  masquerade,  where  she  declared  she  had  con- 
versed with  the  King  ;  and  it  was  remembered  that  she 
had  been  seen  in  the  private  apartments  of  Queen  Anne, 
though,  after  the  Queen's  demise,  she  lived  in  obscurity. 
This  unknown  arrived  in  London  from  Mansfield,  in 
1 7 14,  drawn  by  six  horses.  She  frequently  said  that 
her  father  was  a  nobleman,  but  that  her  elder  brother 
dying  unmarried,  the  title  was  extinct ;  adding,  that  she 
had  an  uncle  then  living,  whose  title  was  his  least  re- 
commendation. It  was  conjectured  that  she  might  be 
the  daughter  of  a  Roman  Catholic  who  had  consigned 
her  to  a  convent,  whence  a  brother  had  released  her 
and  supported  her  in  privacy.  She  was  buried  at  St 
Paul's,  Covent  Garden. 


Story  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.  4S9 


Story  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost. 

EVERY  one  has  heard  of  this  noted  imposture,  and  most 
persons  agree  that  it  made  much  more  noise  in  its  day 
than  all  the  spirits  in  Queen  Anne's  reign  put  together. 
After  the  lapse  of  a  hundred  years,  we  hear  it  repeatedly 
referred  to  as  a  sort  of  climax  of  imposition  ;  and  the 
story  will  bear  repetition.  The  scene  is  a  narrow  lane, 
over  against  Pie  Corner,  in  Smithfield,  where  the  Great 
Fire  of  London  ended. 

In  the  year  1762,  Mr  Parsons,  the  clerk  of  St 
Sepulchre's  Church,  lived  in 'a  house  in  Cock  Lane, 
West  Smithfield.  Being  a  frugal  man,  Parsons  let 
lodgings  ;  and  being  an  unlucky  one,  he  let  his  lodgings 
to  a  lady  who  went  by  the  name  of  Miss  Fanny,  and 

was  the  sister  of  the  deceased  wife  of  a  Mr  K ,  with 

whom  Fanny  cohabited.  Miss  Fanny  took  into  her  bed, 
"  in  the  absence  of  the  gentleman,  who  was  in  the 
country,"  her  landlord's  daughter,  a  child  twelve  years 
old.  Some  days  afterwards,  Miss  Fanny  complained  to 
the  family  of  violent  knockings,  which  kept  her  awake 
at  night.  They  were  like  the  hammering  of  a  shoe- 
maker upon  his  lapstone,  and  were  attributed  to  that 
cause ;  but  the  neighbour  shoemaker  ceased  work  on 
Sunday,  and  the  hammerings  were  as  loud  as  ever.  The 
nuisance  became  serious.  Mr  and  Mrs  Parsons  invited 
their  neighbours  to  hear  the  noises,  and  every  one  came 
away  convinced  that  there  was  a  ghost  behind  the 
wainscoting.  The  clergyman  of  the  parish  was  invited 
to  exorcise,  but  he  prudently  declined  to  come  to 
knocks  with  such  a  ghost.  Miss  Fanny,  who  hardly 
cared  to  have  so  much  public  attention  drawn  upon  her 


490  Romance  of  L ondon. 

private  arrangements,  quitted,  and  went  to  live  at 
Clerkenwell.  She  afterwards  there  died,  and  was  buried 
in  St  John's  Church. 

For  eighteen  months,  quiet  had  reigned  in  Cock 
Lane  ;  but  immediately  Miss  Fanny  died,  the  knockings 
recommenced.  In  whatever  bed  the  child  was  placed, 
knockings  and  scratchings  were  heard  underneath,  and 
the  girl  appeared  to  be  violently  agitated  as  by  fits. 
Parsons,  the  father,  had  now,  either  in  fraud  or  in  con- 
viction, thoroughly  taken  the  matter  up4  He  undertook 
to  question  the  ghost,  and  dictated  how  many  knocks 
should  serve  for  an  answer  affirmative  or  negative.  By 
much  cross-examination,  it  was  discovered  that  the 
rapper  was  the  ghost  of  Miss  Fanny,  who  wished  to 
inform  the  world  that  "  the  gentleman,"  whom  we  wot 
of,  had  poisoned  her,  by  putting  arsenic  into  her  purl 
when  she  was  ill  of  the  small-pox. 

The  girl  became  alarmed ;  and  the  story  getting 
wind,  the  house  in  Cock  Lane,  in  which  the  father  lived, 
was  visited  by  hundreds  and  thousands  of  people — 
many  from  mere  curiosity,  and  others,  perhaps,  with  a 
higher  object  in  view.  Indeed,  it  became  a  fashion  to 
make  up  parties  to  visit  the  scene  of  the  imposture. 
Horace  Walpole  (January  29,  1762)  says,  "  I  am 
ashamed  to  tell  you  that  we  are  again  dipped  into  an 
egregious  scene  of  folly.  The  reigning  fashion  is  a 
ghost — a  ghost  that  would  not  pass  muster  in  the 
paltriest  convent  in  the  Apennine.  It  only  knocks  and 
scratches  ;  does  not  pretend  to  appear  or  to  speak.  The 
clergy  give  it  their  benediction ;  and  all  the  world, 
whether  believers  or  infidels,  go  to  hear  it."  Again  : 
"  I  could  send  you  volumes  on  the  ghost,  and  I  believe, 
if  I  were  to  stay  a  little,  I  might  send  its  life,  dedicated 


Story  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.  491 

to  my  Lord  Dartmouth,  by  the  ordinary  of  Newgate,  its 
two  great  patrons.  A  drunken  parish  clerk  set  it  on 
foot,  out  of  revenge,  the  Methodists  have  adopted  it, 
and  the  whole  town  think  of  nothing  else. 

"  I  went  to  hear  it,"  says  Walpole,  "  for  it  is  not  an 
apparition,  but  an  audition.  We  set  out  from  the  Opera, 
changed  our  clothes  at  Northumberland  House,  the 
Duke  of  York,  Lady  Northumberland,  Lady  Mary 
Coke,  Lord  Hertford,  and  I,  all  in  one  hackney-coach, 
and  drove  to  the  spot :  it  rained  in  torrents ;  yet  the 
lane  was  full  of  mob,  and  the  house  so  full  we  could  not 
get  in  ;  at  last  they  discovered  it  was  the  Duke  of  York, 
and  the  company  squeezed  themselves  into  one  another's 
pockets  to  make  room  for  us.  The  house,  which  is  bor- 
rowed, and  to  which  the  ghost  has  adjourned,  is  wretch- 
edly small  and  miserable  ;  when  we  opened  the  chamber, 
in  which  were  fifty  people,  with  no  light  but  one  tallow- 
candle  at  the  end,  we  tumbled  over  the  bed  of  the  child 
to  whom  the  ghost  comes,  and  whom  they  are  murder- 
ing by  inches  in  such  insufferable  heat  and  stench.  At 
the  top  of  the  room  are  ropes  to  dry  clothes.  I  asked 
if  we  were  to  have  rope-dancing  between  the  acts?  We 
heard  nothing  ;  they  told  us,  as  they  would  at  a  puppet- 
show,  that  it  would  not  come  that  night  till  seven  in  the 
morning ;  that  is  when  there  are  only  'prentices  and  old 
women.  We  stayed,  however,  till  half-an-hour  after  one. 
The  Methodists  have  promised  their  contributions  ;  pro- 
visions are  sent  in  like  forage,  and  all  the  taverns  and 
ale-houses  in  the  neighbourhood  make  fortunes.  The 
most  diverting  part  is  to  hear  people  wondering  when  it 
ic  ill  be  found  out,  as  if  there  was  anything  to  find  out — 
as  if  the  actors  would  make  their  noises  when  they  can 
be  discovered." 


492  Romance  of  L  ondon. 

Mrs  Montague  writes  to  Mrs  Robinson — "  As  I  sup- 
pose you  read  the  newspapers,  you  will  see  mention  of 
the  ghost ;  but  without  you  were  here  upon  the  spot, 
you  could  never  conceive  that  the  most  bungling  per- 
formance of  the  silliest  imposture  could  take  up  the 
attention  and  conversation  of  all  the  fine  world/'  Grave 
persons  of  high  station,  and  not  thought  of  as  candi- 
dates for  Bedlam,  came  away  from  Cock  Lane  shaking 
their  heads  thoughtfully.  The  clerk  of  St  Sepulchre's 
found  the  ghost  the  most  profitable  lodger  he  had  ever 
had.  The  wainscots  were  pulled  down,  and  the  floor 
pulled  up,  but  they  saw  no  ghost,  and  discovered  no 
trick.  The  child  was  removed  to  other  houses,  but  the 
ghost  followed,  and  distinctly  rapped  its  declaration  that 
it  would  never  leave  her. 

As  the  noises  were  made  for  the  detection,  it  is  said, 
of  some  human  crime,  many  gentlemen,  eminent  for 
their  rank  and  character,  were  invited  by  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Aldrich,  of  Clerkenwell,  to  investigate  the  reality  of  the 
knockings ;  and  this  was  the  more  necessary,  as  the 
supposed  spirit  had  publicly  promised,  by  an  affirmative 
knock,  that  one  would  attend  any  one  of  the  gentlemen 
into  the  vault  under  the  church  of  St  John,  Clerken- 
well, where  the  body  was  deposited,  and  give  a  token 
of  her  presence  by  a  knock  upon  her  coffin.  This  in- 
vestigation took  place  on  the  night  of  the  ist  of  Feb- 
ruary 1762;  and  Dr  Johnson,  one  of  the  gentlemen 
present,  printed  at  the  time  an  account  of  what  they 
saw  and  heard  : — About  ten  at  night  the  gentlemen 
met  in  the  chamber  in  which  the  girl,  supposed  to  be 
disturbed  by  a  spirit,  had,  with  proper  caution,  been 
put  to  bed  by  several  ladies.  They  sat  rather  more 
than  an  hour,  and  hearing  nothing,  went  down-stairs, 


Story  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.  493 

when  they  interrogated  the  father  of  the  girl,  who  denied, 
in  the  strongest  terms,  any  knowledge  or  belief  of  fraud. 
The  supposed  spirit  had  before  publicly  promised,  by 
an  affirmative  knock,  that  it  would  attend  one  of  the 
gentlemen  into  the  vault  under  the  church  of  St  John, 
Clerkenwell,  where  the  body  is  deposited,  and  give  a 
token  of  her  presence  there  by  a  knock  upon  her  coffin ; 
it  was  therefore  determined  to  make  this  trial  of  the 
existence  or  veracity  of  the  supposed  spirit.  While 
they  were  inquiring  and  deliberating,  they  were  sum- 
moned into  the  girl's  chamber  by  some  ladies  who  were 
near  her  bed,  and  who  had  heard  knocks  and  scratches. 
When  the  gentlemen  entered,  the  girl  declared  that  she 
felt  the  spirit  like  a  mouse  upon  her  back,  and  was 
required  to  hold  her  hands  out  of  bed.  From  that 
time,  though  the  spirit  was  very  solemnly  required  to 
manifest  its  existence  by  appearance,  by  impression  on 
the  hand  or  body  of  any  present,  by  scratches,  knocks, 
or  any  other  agency,  no  evidence  of  any  preternatural 
power  was  exhibited.  The  spirit  was  then  very  seriously 
advertised,  that  the  person  to  whom  the  promise  was 
made  of  striking  the  coffin  was  then  about  to  visit  the 
vault,  and  that  the  performance  of  the  promise  was  then 
claimed.  The  company  at  one  o'clock  went  into  the 
church,  and  the  gentleman  to  whom  the  promise  was 
made  went  with  another  into  the  vault.  The  spirit  was 
solemnly  required  to  perform  its  promise,  but  nothing 
more  than  silence  ensued  :  the  person  supposed  to  be 
accused  by  the  spirit  then  went  down  with  several 
others,  but  no  effect  was  perceived.  Upon  their  return, 
they  examined  the  girl,  but  could  draw  no  confession 
from  her.  Between  two  and  three  she  desired  and  was 
permitted  to  go  home  with  her  father.     It  is,  therefore, 


494  Romance  of  London. 

the  opinion  of  the  whole  assembly,  that  the  child  has 
some  art  of  making  or  counterfeiting  a  particular  noise, 
and  that  there  is  no  agency  of  any  higher  cause. 

Of  course  the  inquiry  made  the  matter  worse.  John- 
son had  discovered,  at  the  utmost,  that  the  spirit  told 
lies  ;  whereas  the  point  in  dispute  was  whether  the 
spirit  made  noises.  As  matter  of  probability,  it  could 
scarcely  be  less  probable  that  the  spirit  should  be  a 
false  spirit,  than  that  it  should  be  a  spirit  at  all.  John- 
son was  laughed  at  by  the  whole  town,  and  fashion  was 
beginning  to  tire  of  its  toy. 

Churchill  ridiculed  the  inquiry  in  a  poem  in  four 
books,  called  the  "Ghost"— a  poem  whereof  little  is 
now  remembered  but  the  sketch  of  Johnson,  under  the 
name  of  Pomposo. 

We  quote  the  rest  of  the  story  from  a  contemporary : 
—  It  was  now  given  out  that  the  coffin  in  which  the 
body  of  the  supposed  ghost  had  been  deposited,  or  at 
least  the  body  itself,  had  been  displaced,  or  removed 

out  of  the  vault.     Mr  K ,  therefore,  thought  proper 

to  take  with  him  to  the  vault  the  undertaker  who  buried 
Miss  Fanny,  and  such  other  unprejudiced  persons  as,  on 
inspection,  might  be  able  to  prove  the  weakness  of  such 
a  suggestion. 

Accordingly,  on  February  25th,  in  the  afternoon,  Mr 

K ,  with  a  clergyman,  the  undertaker,  clerk,  and 

sexton  of  the  parish,  and  two  or  three  gentlemen,  went 
into  the  vault,  when  the  undertaker  presently  knew  the 
coffin,  which  was  taken  from  under  the  others,  and  easily 
seen  to  be  the  same,  as  there  was  no  plate  or  inscrip- 
tion ;  and,  to  satisfy  further,  the  coffin  being  opened 
before  Mr  K ,  the  body  was  found  in  it. 

Others,  in  the  meantime,  were  taking  other  steps  to 


Story  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.  495 

find  out  where  the  fraud,  if  any,  lay.  The  girl  was 
removed  from  house  to  house,  and  was  said  to  be  con- 
stantly attended  with  the  usual  noises,  though  bound 
and  muffled  hand  and  foot,  and  that  without  any  motion 
in  her  lips,  and  when  she  appeared  asleep  :  nay,  they 
were  often  said  to  be  heard  in  rooms  at  a  considerable 
distance  from  that  where  she  lay. 

At  last  her  bed  was  tied  up,  in  the  manner  of  a  ham- 
mock, about  a  yard  and  a  half  from  the  ground,  and 
her  hands  and  feet  extended  as  wide  as  they  could 
without  injury,  and  fastened  with  fillets  for  two  nights 
successively,  during  which  no  noises  were  heard. 

The  next  day,  being  pressed  to  confess,  and  being 
told  that  if  the  knockings  and  scratchings  were  not 
heard  any  more,  she,  her  father,  and  mother,  would  be 
sent  to  Newgate  ;  and  half  an  hour  being  given  her  to 
consider,  she  desired  she  might  be  put  to  bed  to  try  if 
the  noises  would  come  :  she  lay  in  her  bed  this  night 
much  longer  than  usual,  but  no  noises.  This  was  on  a 
Saturday. 

Sunday,  being  told  that  the  approaching  night  only 
would  be  allowed  for  a  trial,  she  concealed  a  board 
about  four  inches  broad,  and  six  long,  under  her  stays. 
This  board  was  used  to  set  the  kettle  upon.    Having  got 

into  bed,  she  told  the  gentleman  she  would  bring  F 

at  six  the  next  morning. 

The  master  of  the  house,  however,  and  a  friend  of 
his  being  informed  by  the  maids  that  the  girl  had  taken 
a  board  to  bed  with  her,  impatiently  waited  for  the 
appointed  hour,  when  she  began  to  knock  and  scratch 
upon  the  board,  remarking,  however,  what  they  them- 
selves were  convinced  of,  "  that  these  noises  were  not 
like  those  which  used  to  be  made."     She  was  then  told 


496  Romance  of  London. 

that  she  had  taken  a  board  to  bed,  and  on  her  denying 
it,  searched,  and  caught  in  a  lie. 

The  two  gentlemen,  who  with  the  maids  were  the  only 
persons  present  at  the  scene,  sent  to  a  third  gentleman, 
to  acquaint  him  that  the  whole  affair  was  detected,  and 
to  desire  his  immediate  attendance ;  but  he  brought 
another  along  with  him. 

Their  concurrent  opinion  was  that  the  child  had  been 
frightened  into  this  attempt  by  the  threats  which  had 
been  made  the  two  preceding  nights ;  and  the  master  of 
the  house  also,  and  his  friend,  both  declared  "  that  the 
noises  the  girl  had  made  that  morning  had  not  the  least 
likeness  to  the  former  noises." 

Probably  the  organs  with  which  she  performed  these 
strange  noises  were  not  always  in  a  proper  tone  for  that 
purpose,  and  she  imagined  she  might  be  able  to  supply 
the  place  of  them  by  a  piece  of  board. 

At  length,  Mr  K ,  the  paramour  of  Fanny,  thought 

proper  to  vindicate  his  character  in  a  legal  way.  On  the 
10th  of  July,  the  father  and  mother  of  the  child,  one 
Mary  Frazer,  who,  it  seems,  acted  as  an  interpreter  be- 
tween the  ghost  and  those  who  examined  her,  a  clergy- 
man, and  a  reputable  tradesman,  were  tried  at  Guildhall, 
before  Lord  Mansfield,  by  a  special  jury,  and  convicted 

of  conspiracy  against  the  life  and  character  of  Mr  K ; 

and  the  "Court,  choosing  that  he  who  had  been  so  much 
injured  on  this  occasion  should  receive  some  reparation 
by  the  punishment  of  the  offenders,  deferred  giving  sen- 
tence for  seven  or  eight  months,  in  the  hope  that  the 
parties  might,  in  the  meantime,  make  it  up.  Accord- 
ingly, the  clergyman  and  tradesman  agreed  to  pay  Mr 
K a  round  sum,  some  say  between  five  and  six  hun- 
dred pounds,  to  purchase  their  pardon,  and  were  there- 


Story  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.  497 

upon  dismissed  with  a  severe  reprimand.  The  father 
was  ordered  to  stand  in  the  pillory  three  times  in  one 
month,  once  at  the  end  of  Cock  Lane,  and  after  that 
one  year  in  the  King's  Bench  Prison ;  Elizabeth,  his 
wife,  one  year ;  and  Mary  Frazer,  six  months  in  Bride- 
well, with  hard  labour.  But  the  father  appearing  to  be 
out  of  his  mind  at  the  time  he  was  first  to  stand  on  the 
pillory,  the  execution  of  that  part  of  his  sentence  was 
deferred  to  another  day,  when,  as  well  as  on  other  days 
of  his  standing  there,  the  populace,  instead  of  pelting 
him,  collected  for  him  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 
Mr  Brown,  of  Amen  Corner,  who  had  published  some 
letters  on  the  affair,  did  not  fare  so  well ;  for  he  was  fined 
.£50.  The  mistress  of  the  Ladies'  Charity  School,  on 
Snow  Hill,  was  a  believer  in  the  story;  for,  in  the  school 
minutes,  1763,  the  Ladies  of  the  Committee  censured 
the  mistress  for  listening  to  the  story  of  the  Cock  Lane 
Ghost,  and  "  desired  her  to  keep  her  belief  in  the  article 
to  herself." 

In  the  course  of  the  year,  Oliver  Goldsmith  wrote  for 
Newbury,  the  publisher,  a  pamphlet  descriptive  of  the 
Cock  Lane  Ghost,  for  which  he  received  three  guineas  ; 
it  is  reprinted  in  Cunningham's  edition  of  Goldsmith's 
Collected  Works. 

The  trick  is  thought  to  have  been  carried  on  by 
means  of  ventriloquism,  a  faculty  then  little  understood. 
The  girl  ultimately  confessed  as  much.  She  died  so 
recently  as  1807,  having  been  twice  married  ;  her  second 
husband  was  a  market-gardener  at  Chiswick.  {London 
Scenes  and  London  People,  1863.)  Such  is  the  author's 
explanation  ;  but  the  more  probable  story  is,  that  the 
bed-clothes  being  opened,  the  board  was  found,  upon 

vol.  1.  2  1 


498  Romance  of  Lotidon. 

which  the  girl  had  been  accustomed  to  rap  ;  and  this 
simple  process  annihilated  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost. 

Another  explanation  is,  that  K had  incurred  the 

resentment  of  Parsons  by  pressing  him  for  the  payment 
of  some  money  he  had  lent  him  ;  and  revenge  for  which 
is  supposed  to  have  prompted  the  diabolical  contrivance. 
The  Rev.  Mr  Moore,  to  whom  the  spirit  promised  to 
strike  the  coffin,  and  who  accompanied  Dr  Johnson  in 
the  investigation,  was  so  overwhelmed  by  the  detection 
of  the  imposture  that  he  did  not  long  survive  it. 

We  have  another  circumstance  to  add  relating  to  the 
body  of  Fanny,  which  we  have  received  from  Mr  Wyke- 
ham  Archer.  When  this  artist  was  drawing  in  the  crypt 
of  St  John,  in  a  narrow  cloister  on  the  north  side  (there 
being,  at  that  time,  coffins  and  fragments  of  shrouds, 
and  human  remains  lying  about  in  disorder),  the  sexton's 
boy  pointed  out  to  Mr  Archer  one  of  the  coffins,  and 
said  it  was  "  Scratching  Fanny."  Being  thus  reminded 
of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost,  Mr  Archer  removed  the  lid  of 
the  coffin,  which  was  loose,  and  saw  therein  the  body  of 
a  woman,  which  had  become  adipoccre ;  the  face  perfect, 
handsome  oval,  with  aquiline  nose.  (Mr  Archer  asked, 
"  Will  not  arsenic  produce  adipocere  ?")  She  was  said  to 
have  been  poisoned,  although  the  charge  is  understood 
to  have  been  disproved.  Mr  A.  was  assured  by  one  of 
the  churchwardens  that  the  coffin  had  always  been 
understood  to  contain  the  body  of  the  woman  whose 
spirit  was  said  to  have  haunted  the  house  in  Cock  Lane. 

In  the  Liber  A/bus  (1419),  we  read  that,  in  the  Plan- 
tagenet  times,  loose  women,  and  men  who  encouraged 
them,  were  led  through  the  town — the  men  to  the  pil- 
lory, with  mocking  minstrels,  and  the  women,  with  the 


Story  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.  499 

same  mockery,  through  Cheap  and  Newgate — to  Cock 
Lane,  there  to  take  up  their  abode,  just  outside  the  City 
walls.  In  Cock  Lane,  some  sixty  years  since,  wholesale 
whipmakers  lived,  and  grew  wealthy  ;  the  place  being 
handy  to  Smithfield. 


INDEX. 


Abel,  Dr,  in  the  BeauchampTower, 
42 

Accession  of  Queen  Victoria,  191 

Addison's  Campaign,  154 

Albemarle  (Ann  Clarges),  Duchess 
of,  her  Story,  120-124 

Ann,   the    Lady,    in   Westminster 
Sanctuary,  26 

Anne  Boleyn,  where  buried,  59 

Apparition  in  the  Tower,  468 

Apsley   House    and    the   Duke   of 
Wellington,  19S 

Aristocratic  Fleet  Marriages,  410 

Assassinations  of  George  III.,  At- 
tempted, 372 

Assassination  of  Mr  Thynne  in  Pall 
Mall,  316 

B 

Bacon,  Francis,  in  Gray's  Inn,  147 
Baker,  Sir   Richard,    in   the   Fleet 

Prison,  295 
Ballad  of  Duke  Hamilton,  216 
Ballad  of"  London  Bridge  is  Broken 

Down,"  6 
Baltimore  House,  Story  of,  345 
Baltimore,  Lord,  Trial  of,  348 
Bainbridge,  Robert,    in   the   Beau- 
champ  Tower,  43 


Bank  of  England,   Stories  of  the, 

403 
Bank-Notes,  Forged,  404 
Bank-Notes  Lost,  403 
Bank-Notes  Stolen,  403 
Barnwell,    George,  Story   of,    303- 

313 

Baronets,  Unfortunate,  1S1 

Beau  Fielding,  Story  of,  418 
Beau  Wilson,  Story  of,  420-423 
Beauchamp  Tower,  Romance  of  the, 

41 
Beau  clerk,  Charles,  first  Duke  of  St 

Alban's,  142 
Beckford,  William,  Boyhood  of,  1 76 
Beckford's  Monumental  Speech,  175 
Bell  Tower,  Two  Prisoners  in,  51 
Benevolence,    Eccentric,    of    Lord 

Digby,  339 
Berkeley,    the    Hon.    G.,    and   Dr 

Maginn,  Duel  between,  236 
Berkeley,  Lady  Henrietta,  Misfor- 
tunes of,  313 
Best,  Captain,  and  Lord  Camelfonl, 

Duel  between,  233-236 
Blood,  Colonel,  his  attack  upon  the 

Duke  of  Ormond,  130 
Blood,   Colonel,  Death  and  Burial 

of,  119 
Blood,  Colonel,  steals  the  Crown, 

113 


502 


Index, 


Bloody  Tower,   in   the    Tower   of 

London,  49 
Bloomsbury,  Rural,  202 
Body -stealing,   first   case    of,   352- 

355 
Bohemia,    Queen     of,     and     Lord 

Craven,  149 
Bracegirdle,  Mrs,  carried  off  by  Lord 

•Mohun,  323 
Breaches    of   Promise,    Stories   of, 

444 
Bridewell  Whippings,  273 
Brothers'  Steps,  Story  of,  204 
Buckhurst  and  Nell  Gwynne,  141 
Budgell,  Eustace,    Suicide  of,  327, 

328 
Byron,   Lord,   and    Mr   Chaworth, 

Duel  between,  219-225 


Cage  and  Stocks  at  Old  London 

Bridge,  272 
Camelford,  Lord,  the  Duellist,  231 
Caroline,    Queen    of   George   IV., 

456 

Castlereagh,  Lord,  his  Blunders, 
190 

Cat  Story,  Eastern,  22 

Catesby  and  Percy,  and  the  Gun- 
powder Plot,  74 

Cato  Street  Conspiracy,  Account  of 
the,  391 

Centlivre,  Mrs,  and  her  Three  Hus- 
bands, 425 

Charing  Cross  and  the  Hungerfords, 
28 

Charles  I.,  Bernini's  Bust  of,  89 

Charles  L,  Martyrdom  of,  101 

Charles  I.,  Relics  of,  103 


Charles    II.    and    Colonel    Blood, 

116,  117 
Charles  II.,  death  of,  144 
Charles  II.  and  Nell  Gwynne,  140 
Charlotte,  Princess,  her  flight  from 

Warwick  House,  449 
Charlotte,    Princess,    and  her  pro- 
posed marriage  to  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  449 
Chartists,  the,  in  184S,  196 
Chaworth,   Mr,   and   Lord   Byron, 

Duel  between,  219-225 
Chelsea    Church  and   Sir  Thomas 

More's  Remains,  56 
Chelsea  Hospital  and  Nell  Gwynne, 

144 
Cheshire  Will  Case,  Famous,  205 
Chick   Lane,   or  West   Street,  de- 
molished, 268 
Christian  IV.,  King  of  Denmark, 

84 
Clarges,   Ann,   Duchess    of    Albe- 
marle, Story  of,  120-124 
Clarges,    Ann,    at    the    New    Ex- 
change, 104 
Clarges,  the  Strand  Farrier,  123 
Clayton,  Sir  Robert,  his  mansion  in 

Old  Jewry,  110 
Clerkenwell,  Old,  Brutal  sports  in, 

267 
Clive,  Lord,  Suicide  of,  1S4 
Cock  Lane  in  ancient  times,  498 
Cock  Lane  Ghost,  Story  of,  4S9-499 
Coincidences,  Historical,  89 
Coventry  Act,  Origin  of  the,  2S7 
Court  Revel,  Strange,  84 
Craven  House,   Drury  Lane,    152, 

153 
Craven,   Lord,    and  the  Queen  of 
Bohemia,  149 


Index. 


503 


Creswell,  Madam,  in  Bridewell,  275 
Cromwell,    Oliver,    and    Lilly   the 

Astrologer,  470 
Cromwell's  Skull,  Story  of,  135 
Crosby     Place,     Shakspeare,     and 

Richard  III.,  22 
Crown,    the,    stolen     by     Colonel 

Blood, 113 
Culloden,  Victory  of,  183 
Cunningham's  Story  of  Nell  Giuynne, 

I  $2 

D. 

Daggers    of   Blood    and    Parrot, 

120 
Davies,  Lady,  the  Prophetess,  478 
Dee's  Magic  Mirror  and  the  Gun- 

powder  Plot,  83 
Divining  Rod,  the,  in  Westminster 

Abbey,  477 
Dodd,  Dr,  Execution  of,  355 
Don  Pantaleon  Sa,   Story  of,  104- 

108 
Donne,  Dr,  Premonition  and  Vision 

to,  465 
Dudley,    Earl  of  Warwick,  in  the 

Beauchamp  Tower,  43 
Dudley,  Robart,  in  the  Beauchamp 

Tower,  46 
Duel  between  the  Duke  of  Hamilton 

and  Lord  Mohun,  208-219 
Duel  between  the  Duke  of  York  and 

Col.  Lenox,  225-228 
Duel  between  Lord  Byron  and  Mr 

Chaworth,  219-225 
Duel  between  Lord  Camelford  and 

Captain  Pest,  233,  234 
Duels  of  "  Fighting  Fitzgerald,"  228 
Duel,  a  literary  one,  236 


Duel,  a  terrible  one,  239 
Duval,  Claude,  the   Highwayman, 
244 


Ebury  Farm,  Chelsea,  481 
Elizabeth,    Princess,    in    the     Bell 

Tower,  53 
Elizabeth,     Princess,    at     Traitors' 

Gate,  48 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  by  Torchlight,  39 
Escape  from  Death,  Extraordinary, 

328 
Execution  of  Cato  Street  Conspira- 
tors, 393 
Execution  of  Dr  Dodd,  355 
Execution  of  Don  Pantaleon  Sa  and 

Gerard,  107 
Execution  of  Earl  Ferrers  for  Mur- 
der, 342,  343 
Execution  of  Eliza  Fenning,  384 
Execution  of  Governor    Wall,   de- 
scribed by  J.  T.  Smith,  378 
Execution  of  Hackman  for  Murder, 

369-371 
Execution  of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  56 
Execution  of  Thynne's  Murderers, 

321 
Execution  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  67 


Fanshawe,  the  Heroic  Lady,  132 
Farewell  Feast  in  the  Tower,  72 
Fawkes,  Guido,  and  his  fellow-con- 
spirators, 74 
Fawkes,  Guido,  before  James  L,  81 
Fenning,  Eliza,  the  supposed   poi- 
soner, case  of,  382 
Ferrers,  Lord,  Execution  of,  340 


504 


Index. 


Ferryman's     Daughter, "  Story    of 

the,  I 
Field  of  Forty  Footsteps,  Story  of, 

202 
Fielding,  Beau,  Story  of,  418 
Fielding,    Sir    John,    and    London 

Robberies,  257 
Fielding,  Sir  John,  Sketch  of,  336 
Field  Lane,  Fagin,  and  Oliver  Twist, 

265,  266 
"  Fighting  Fitzgerald,"  his  Duels, 

228 
Fire  and  Plague,  Great,  foretold  by 

Lilly,  471 
Fisher,  Bishop,  Funeral  of,  54 
Fisher,  Bishop,  in  the  Tower,  51—54 
Fitzherbert,    Mrs,    married   to    the 

Prince  of  Wales,  446 
Fleet    Marriages,    Stones   of,  406- 

413 
Fleet  Marriage  Registers,  409 
Fleet  Prison,    Persons  of  Note  in, 

293 

Flogging  at  Bridewell,  273 
Forger,  Adventure  with,  336 
Fonthill  and  the  Beckfords,  1 76 
Forty  Footsteps,  Story  of,  202 
Fox,   Mr,  and  the  Marriage  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  Mrs  Fitzher- 
bert, 447 
Funeral  of  James  I.,  86 
Funeral  of  Lord  Nelson,  187 

G. 

Gargraves,  Stories  of  the,  181 
George  Barnwell,  Story  of,  303-313 
George  Barnwell  Travestie,  311 
George   and  Blue  Boar  Inn,   Hol- 
born,  98 


George  III.  and  Alderman  Beck- 
ford,  177 

George  III.  and  "  the  Fair  Qua- 
keress," 435 

George  III.  and  Lady  Sarah  Lenox, 
436 

George  IV.  and  his  Queen,  456 

Godfrey,  Sir  Edmund  Berry,  Death 
of,  124 

Goodman,  Bishop,  his  account  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  by  Torchlight, 

39 
Gordon,  Lord  George,  and  Riots  of 

17S0,  170-175 
Gray's    Inn   Gardens   and    Francis 

Bacon,  147 
Grey,  Lady  Jane,  Execution  of,  56 
Gunpowder  Plot  Detected,  73-84 
"  Guy  Fawkes's  Cellar,"  81 


H. 


Hackman  and  Miss  Reay,  Story  of, 
362-371 

Hadfield,  James,  attempting  to  shoot 
George  III.,  373 

"Half-way  House'  between  Knights- 
bridge  and  Kensington,  262 

Hamilton,  Duke  of,  and  Lord  Mo- 
hun,  their  Duel,  208-219 

Hamilton,  Emma,  Lady,  Letters  of, 
441 

Handsome  Englishman,  the,    Story 

of,  427-433 

Hawkes,  "  The  Flying  Highway- 
man," 256 

Heads  of  Bishop  Fisher  and  Sir 
Thomas  More,  54 

Henrietta  Maria,  Queen,  her  Pen- 
ance at  Tyburn,  91 


Index. 


505 


Herbert,  Lord,  his  Vision,  482-4S4 

Heroes  of  the  Road,  241 

Highwayman  shot  by  Lord  Berke- 
ley, 255 

Highwaymen,  Notorious,  241-269 

Highway  Robberies  in  Pall  Mall  and 
Piccadilly,  260 

High  way  Robberies  bet  ween  Knights- 
bridge  and  Kensington,  260,  261 

Hoare,  Sheriff,  his  Account  of  an 
Escape  from  Death,  328 

Holborn  Hill,  last  ride  up,  254 

Howard,  Henry,  Earl  of  Surrey,  in 
Fleet  Prison,  297 

Howel,  the  Letter-writer,  in  the 
Fleet  Prison,  296 

Human    Heads    on    Temple    Bar, 

331   ' 

Hungerfords,  the,  at  Charing  Cross, 
28 


Inscriptions  and  Devices  in  the 
Beauchamp  Tower,  41-47 


Jack  Ketch,  243 

James  I.,  Funeral  of,  86 

James  IV.  of  Scotland,  Story  of  his 

Head,  37 
Jane  Shore,  her  true  History,  34 
Jeffreys,  Judge,  Rise  of,  2S8 
Jemmy   Dawson,   tragic    Story    of, 

160 
Jemmy    Whitney,    the    Handsome 

Highwayman,  245 
Johnson,   Dr,  and  the  Cock   Lane 

Ghost,  492 


K. 

Kilburn,  the  Legend  of,  460 
King's  Head,  Story  of  one,  37 
Kings,  Two  Tippling,  84 
Koningsmarck,  Count,  and  the  Mur- 
der of  Thynne,  318-322 

L. 

Ladies  excluded  from  the  House  of 

Lords,  158 
Lamb,  D.,  the  Conjuror,  account  of, 

479 
Layer's  Head  on  Temple  Bar,  333 
Lenox,  Colonel,  and   the   Duke  of 

York,  Duel  between,  225-228 
Lenox,    Lady    Sarah,   and    George 

III.,  436 
Letter  of  Emma,  Lady  Hamilton, 

441. 
Letter,  Intercepted,  at  the  George 

and  Blue  Boar  Inn,  98 
Letter  to  Lord  Mounteagle  on  the 

Gunpowder  Plot,  78 
Letter,  the  only  one,  of  Nell  Gwynne, 

144 
Letter   of  Sir  W.   Raleigh   to   his 

Wife,  64 
Lightfoot,  Hannah,  "  the  fair  Qua- 
keress," 435 
Lillo's  George  Barnwell,  303 
Lilly,  the  Astrologer,  Account   of, 

469-474 
Lincoln's  Inn  and  Willis's  Plot,  10S 
Lincoln's    Inn   Fields,   Lady   Fan- 

shawe  in,  134 
London  Bridge,  the  first,  I 
"London  Bridge  is  Broken  Down," 

Ballad  of,  6 


5o6 


Index. 


London  Bridge,  Old,  Noted   Resi- 
dents on,  9 
Love  and  Madness,  Story  of,  440 
Loz'e  and  Madness,  by  Sir  Herbert 

Croft,  371 
Love    and     Marriage,    Stories    of, 

406-458 
Lovelace,  Richard,  Story  of,  413 
Luttrell,  Narcissus,  his  Diary,  241 

M. 

Macaulay,    Lord,    on    Addison's 

Campaign,  154 
Macaulay,    Lord,   his    Account    of 

Lord  Clive,  185 
M  'Lean,  the  Fashionable  Highway- 
man, 249 
Magdalen  Hospital  and  Dr  Dodd, 

361 
Maginn,  Dr,  and  the  Hon.  Grantley 

Berkeley,  Duel  between,  236 
Mansion  of  a  City  Merchant  Prince, 

no 
Marriages,  Fleet,  406 
Marriages,  Stolen,  at  Knightsbridge, 

426 
May  Fair  Marriage,  a  Story,  433 
Metropolitan  Highwaymen,  noted, 

253 

Middle  Temple  Gate,  Story  of,  137 

M inters  of  South wark,  the,  349 
Mohun,   Lord,    and    the    Duke   of 

Hamilton,  their  Duel,  208-219 
Mohun,  Lord,  kills  Mountfort,  the 

Player,  325 
Montague  House  and  Gardens,  202 
Montague,  Lady  Mary  Wortley,  and 

the  Exclusion  of  Ladies  from  the 

House  of  Lords,  159 


More,  Sir  Thomas,  Head  of,  54 
Mounteagle,  Lord,  and  Gunpowder 

Plot,  78 
Murder  and  an  Apparition,  481 
Murder  of  Sir  Edmund  Berry  God- 
frey, 124-130 
Murder  of  Mountfort,  the  Player, 

322 
Murder,  Strange  Discovery  of,  286 
Murderer  taken  by  means   of  the 

Electric  Telegraph,  398 
Mysterious  Death  of  Sir  Edmund 

Berry  Godfrey,  124-130 
Mysterious  Lady,  Story  of,  488 

N. 

Napoleon  III.,  London  Residence 
of,  194 

Nell  Gwynne,  Story  of,  139-147 

Nelson,  Funeral  of,  187 

New  Exchange,  Strand,  104 

New  Road  Robberies,  258 

Nicholson,  Margaret,  attempts  to 
assassinate  George  III.,  372 

November  the  Fifth  and  Gunpow- 
der Plot,  78 

O. 

Omens  to  Charles  I.  and  James  II., 

462 
Orange  Girls  and  the  Old  Theatres, 

139 

Ormond,  Duke  of,  attacked  by  Col. 
Blood,  130 

Overs,  St  Mary,  and  the  First  Lon- 
don Bridge,  1 

Overbury,  Sir  Thomas,  Poisoning 
of,  69 

Oxford,  Earl  of,  and  Roxana,  423 


Index. 


507 


P. 


Painters  Resident  on  Old  London 

Bridge,  10 
Palace,  Royal,  in  the  Tower,  51 
Tall  Mall,  Nell  Gywnne  living  in, 

142 
Parliament  House  and  Gunpowder 

Plot,  73-82 
"  Parr,  Old,"  account  of,  94 
Penance  of  Jane  Shore,  35 
Penance  of  Queen  Henrietta  Maria 

at  Tyburn,  91 
Penance  for  Witchcraft  on  London 

Bridge,  275 
Pepys's  Account  of  the  Duke  and 

Duchess  of  Albemarle,  122 
Pepys  and  Nell  Gwynne,  140 
Pepys  seeking  Treasure  in  the  Tower, 

112 

Pest    Field    and    Plague    Crosses, 

152 

Peverils  in  the  Beauchamp  Tower, 

44 

Pigs  in  the  Streets  of  London,  14 

Plantagenet  Pigs,  14 

Poisoning  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury, 

69 
Popish    Plot,    the,    and    Godfrey's 

Murder,  127 
Premonition    and    Vision     to    Dr 

Donne,  465 
Pressing  to  Death,  283 
Pretender,   the    Young,   his   Secret 

Visits  to  London,  163-170 
Primrose    Hill    and    Sir    Edmund 

Berry  Godfrey,  126-128 
Primrose  Hill  and  its  Duels,  230 
Princes  in  the  Tower,  Murder  of, 

49 


Frisons  burnt  in  the  Riots  of  1780, 

172,  173 
Prisoners,  Noted,  in  the  Fleet,  294 
Punishments,  Ancient  Civil,  270 

R. 

Rack,  Punishment  of  the,  2S1- 
283 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  attempts  sui- 
cide, 6t, 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  Execution  of, 
67 

Raleigh's,  Sir  W.,  Prison-lodgings 
in  the  Tower,  47 

Raleigh,  Sir  W.,  writing  his  History, 
61 

Ramsay,  David,  and  the  Divining. 
Rod,  477 

Ratcliffe  Highway  Murders  in  1S11, 

3S9 
Reay,    Miss,    shot     by    Hackman, 

365 
Reresby,  Sir  W.,  Story  of,  182 

Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  at 
Crosby  Place,  22 

Riots  of  1780,  account  of,  170 

Rising  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  300 

Robberies,  Highway,  a  century  ago, 
268,  269 

Rogueries,  Crimes,  and  Punish- 
ments, 270-405 

Ross,  and  the  Play  of  George  Barn- 
well, 308 

Roxana,   Story  of  the  unfortunate, 

423 

Royal  Exchange  Motto,  193 
Royalty  deduced  from  a  Tub-woman, 

1  So 
Rules  of  the  Fleet  Prison,  299 


503 


Index. 


S. 


St  Paul's  Crypt,  Nelson,  and  Wel- 
lington, 189 
Salmon,  Thomas,  in  the  Beauchamp 

Tower,  45 
Sandwich,    Earl,   and    Miss   Reay, 

362 
Sanquhar,  Lord,  his  Revenge,  99. 
Savoy  Chapel  Marriages,  412 
Selwyn's  Account    of    Dr    Dodd's 

Execution,  359 
Shakspeare  and  Crosby  Place,  24 
Shore,  Jane,  her  Tree  History,  34 
Sixteen-string  Jack,    the  Highway- 
man, 254 
Skull  of  Cromwell,  135 
Smithfield  and  its  Tournaments,  13 
Sorrows  of  Sanctuary,  26 
Southwark  Minters,  the,  349 
Stanhope,  Lord,  on  the  Secret  Visits 
of  the  Young  Pretender  to  Lon- 
don; 164 
Star-Chamber  Stories,  290 
Stealing  a  Dead  Body,  352 
Storm,  Great,  of  1703,  157 
Striking  in  the   King's  Court  pun- 
ished, 278 
Suicide  of  Lord  Clive,  184 
Suicides,  two  extraordinary,  at  Lon- 
don Bridge,  326 
Supernatural  Stories,  459 


Tav/ell,    the    Murderer,    and  the 

Electric  Telegraph,  398 
Temple,  Mr,  Suicide  of,  326 
Thornton,  Abraham,  and  Trial  by 

Battle,  199 


Thynne,    Mr,    assassinated  in  Pall 

Mall,  316 
Torchlight     Procession    of    Queen 

Elizabeth,  39 
Torture  and  the  Rack  Punishments, 

281 
Touching  for  the  Evil,  Account  of, 

.475 
Tournaments  in  Smithfield,  13 
Tower,  and  Anne  Boleyn's  Burial, 

59 
Tower,  the,  and  Beauchamp  Tower, 

41-47 
Tower,  Col.  Blood  steals  the  Crown 

from,  113 
Tower,  and  the  Bloody  Tower,  49 
Tower,  and  Execution  of  Lady  Jane 

Grey,  56 
Tower,  Farewell  Feast  in,  72 
Tower,  and  Sir  Thomas  Overbury, 

69 
Tower,  and  Traitor's  Gate,  47 
Tower,  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  60- 

63    ' 

Townley  and  Fletcher's  Heads  on 
Temple  Bar,  334 

Treasure  Seeking  in  the  Tower,  112 

Trial  by  Battle,  199 

Trial  of  Lord  Byron  for  Duelling, 
224 

Trial  of  Hackman  for  Murder,  367 

Turner,  the  Whitefriars'  Fencing- 
master,  99 

Turner,  Mrs,  and  Yellow    Starch, 

71 

Turpin,  Dick,  the  Highwayman, 
247 

Tyburn  Executions,  242 

Tyburn,  Penance  of  Queen  Hen- 
rietta Maria  at,  91 


Index. 


509 


VaUX,  James  Hardy,  the  Swindler 

and  Fickpocket,  394-397 
Victoria,  Queen,  Accession  of,  191 
Vision  on  London  Bridge,  4S5 
Vision  of    Lord   Herbert  of  Cher- 
bury,  482-484 
Vision  in  the  Tower,  459 


W. 

Wainwright,   the  Poisoner,  Case 

of.  3S5-3S9 

Wall,  Governor,  Trial  and  Execu- 
tion of,  376-382 

Walpole,  Horace,  his  Account  of 
Lord  Clive,  184-187  ;  The  Cock 
Lane  Ghost,  490 ;  Dr  Dodd, 
356-359  5  Earl  Ferrers,  345  ;  the 
Murder  of  Miss  Reay,  366 ; 
M'Lean,  249,  251 

Walpole,  Edward,  the  Handsome 
Englishman,  427-433 

Wellington,  Duke  of,  and  Aspley 
House,  198;  Chartist  agitation,i97 


Westminster  Sanctuary,  27 
Whitefriars   and   Lord    Sanquhar's 

Revenge,  99 
White  Widow,  Story  of  the,  104,105 
"  Whittington  and  his  Cat,"    Story 

of,  16 
Whittington  and   Stone,    Highgate 

Hill,  22 
Will   Case,    the  Famous  Cheshire, 

205 
Willis's   Plot    against   Charles    II. 

108 
Wilson,  Beau,  Story  of,  420-423 
Witchcraft     Penance    on     London 

Bridge,  275 
Wolsey  and  Middle  Temple  Gate,  137 
Wycherly  and  his  Countess,  Story 

of,  415-418 
Wycherley    in    the    Fleet    Prison, 

295 
Wyat,  Sir  Thomas,  Rising  of,  300 


York,  Duke  of,  and  Colonel  Lenox, 
Duel  between,  225-228 


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