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SANTA BA_R3AIiA COLLEGE LIBRARY
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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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