Old and New London, A Narrative of its History, its People and its Places. Illustrated with Numerous Engravings from the Most Authentic Sources. vol 2

Thornbury, Walter

1872-78

Chapter LI: Newgate Street.Tallis

Chapter LI: Newgate Street.Tallis

 

In Grey Franciscan friars arrived in London from Italy, and by the assistance of the

Preaching Friars

of , obtained a temporary residence in . They soon found patrons, John Ewin, a mercer, purchasing for them a vacant spot of ground in the parish of St. Nicholas Shambles (from a fleshmarket held there), which he gave for the use of these friars; and William Joyner, Lord Mayor in (Henry III.), built the choir. Henry Wallis, a succeeding Lord Mayor, added the body of the church. A new and grander church was commenced in (Edward I.) at the joint expense of Queen Margaret, wife of Edward I.; John of Brittany, Earl of Richmond; Gilbert de Clare, the Earl of Gloucester; and other pious and generous persons. This church, according to Stow, was consecrated in , and is described as feet long, feet broad, and feet inches high. The chancel ceiling was painted, and the windows glowed with stained glass.

In connection with this church the illustrious Richard Whittington founded a library, in , and furnished it with desks and settles for students. It is especially noted that patient transcriber was paid for copying the works of Nicholas de Lira.

At the dissolution, Henry VIII., who tore all he could from piety and poverty, used the church as a warehouse for French plunder. In the king gave the priory (church, library, chapter-house,

and cloisters) to the Mayor and Corporation of London. The magnificent tyrant, at the same time, gave the city the Hospital of St. Bartholomew the Little, and the parish churches of St. Ewin in Newgate Market and Nicholas in the Shambles, and directed that these parishes, a part of St. Sepulchre's parish, situated within Newgate, and all the site of the late dissolved priory, should form parish, and that the church of the priory should be the parish church, and be called

Christ Church

within Newgate, founded by Henry VIII.

The church, swept away in the fiery flood of , was rebuilt from Wren's design, in , and was completed in the year of Queen Anne. The patronage of is vested in the Mayor and Commonalty of London, as governors of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. The parish of St. Leonard, , was united to that of , and the Dean and Chapter of , patrons of , therefore present alternately. By the original grant of Henry VIII. there be assistant readers. The present ,. feet long and broad, is not more than half as large as the old church, the western plot of ground being turned into a burial-ground. The steeple is feet high. The interior is generous and spacious, with a wagon-headed ceiling and clerestory windows, with the old pagan adornments of fat cherubims, tasteless scrolls, and coarse foliage. An ornamental band connects each

p.428

Corinthian column. A great theatrical gallery at the west end, piled up with a huge organ, is set apart, together with the side galleries, for the Bluecoat boys. The pulpit has carved panels representing, after a fashion, the Evangelists and the Last Supper. The marble font is carved with fruit, flowers, and cherubims. The church was repaired, and what churchwardens are pleased to call beautified, in , and again in . The old burial fees in the happily bygone days of intramural interments were high enough at this church - for an inhabitant in the chancel; for a stranger. While the lucky inhabitant paid for his tombstone, the poor stranger's friends had to lay down for his.

On the north wall at the east end of the church is a brass tablet to the memory of Dame Mary Ramsey, who died in , and who established a free writing-school in . Here, where queens have rested and murderers mouldered, lies the great Nonconformist minister, Richard Baxter, on whose tomb no more fitting epitaph could be placed than the title of his own book, This excellent man, of Shropshire birth, in the earlier part of his life became master of a free-school at Dudley. In he took orders, having then no scruples about conformity, but soon after, some Nonconformist friends began to slowly influence his mind. He then began to distrust the surplice, objected to the cross in baptism, and found flaws in the Prayer Book and the Liturgy. In he was minister at Kidderminster; but when the civil wars broke out, and after Naseby, he became chaplain to Colonel Whalley's Puritan regiment, and was present at several sieges. The Cavaliers said he killed of their party and stole his medal, a story which Baxter publicly denied. On his preaching against Cromwell he was sent for to Court, and told of the great things God ha done for the Parliament. Baxter replied that the honest people of the land took their ancient monarchy to be a blessing, and not an evil, and humbly craved Cromwell's patience, that he might ask him how they had forfeited that blessing, and to whom that forfeiture was made. Cromwell replied, angrily,

There was no forfeiture; but God had changed it as pleased Him.

A few days after, Cromwell sent to ask Baxter for his opinion on liberty of conscience, which Baxter gave him. On Charles's restoration, Baxter, who was a sect in himself was appointed of the king's chaplains, and was frequently with the godless monarch. He assisted as a commissioner at the Savoy Conference, and drew up a reformed liturgy. Lord offered this crochety but honest theologian the bishopric of Hereford, but he declined the appointment, and went on preaching about London. For illegal preaching he was sent to gaol for months, but eventually discharged before the expiration of that period. After the indulgence in he preached at Pinner's Hall, in , in House, at a chapel he built himself in , and in . In Baxter was taken before Lord Chief Justice Jefferies, for remarks on James II. in his and sent to prison, after much vulgar abuse from Jefferies, for years, but in he was pardoned by King James. At Baxter's last disgraceful trial, that cruel bully, the Lord Chief Justice, told him that Oates was then standing in the pillory in New , and that if he. (Baxter) was on the other side of the pillory at the same time, he (Jefferies) would say that of the greatest rogues and rascals in the kingdom stood there. Like an avalanche of mud the foul words poured forth from this unjust judge.

Ay,

said [extra_illustrations.2.428.1] ,

this is your Presbyterian cant; truly called to be bishops; that is, himself and such rascals, called to be bishops of Kidderminster, and other such places; bishops set apart by such factious, snivelling Presbyterians as himself; a Kidderminster bishop, he means. According to the saying of a late learned author, every parish shall maintain a tithe-pig metropolitan.

Mr. Baxter beginning to speak again, says he to him,

Richard, Richard, dost thou think we will hear thee poison the court, &c.? Richard, thou art an old fellow--an old knave; thou hast written books enough to load a cart, every

one

as full of sedition (I might say, treason) as an egg is full of meat. Hadst thou been whipped out of thy writing-trade

forty

years ago it had been happy. Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the. gospel of peace, and thou hast

one

foot in the grave; 'tis time for thee to begin to think what account thou intendest to give. But leave thee to thyself, and I see thoul't go on as thou hast begun; but, by the grace of God, I will look after thee. I know thou hast a mighty party, and I see a great many of the brotherhood in corners, waiting to see what will become of their mighty don, and a doctor of the party (looking to Dr. Bates) at your elbow; but, by the grace of Almighty God, I'll crush you all.

After this Baxter retired to a house in Charterhouse Yard, where he assisted a Mr. Sylvester every Sunday morning, and preached a lecture every Thursday. He died in the year . Baxter is said to have written more than distinct treatises. This somewhat hair-splitting man

p.429

 

[extra_illustrations.2.429.1]  believed in election, but rejected the doctrine of reprobation. If any improved the common grace given to all mankind, it was Baxter's belief that the improvement must be followed by special grace, which led on to final acceptance and salvation. This was the half-way road between Calvinism and Arminianism.

On the east wall is a tablet to the memory of Dr. Trapp, who was vicar of the united parishes of and St. Leonard, , for years, and died in . This learned translator and controversialist lived in . Near the communion-table is a large monument to Sir John Bosworth, Chamberlain of the city, who died in , and his wife, Dame Hester Bosworth; and also a plain tablet to Mr. John Stock, many years a painter at the Royal Dockyard, and who died in . He left for charitable and philanthropic purposes. A marble monument, with a bust, records the Rev. Samuel Crowther, nearly years incumbent of this church. He was a grandson of Richardson, the novelist, and was born in New . He was struck down with apoplexy while reading morning prayers. The inscription to his memory runs thus :--

This monument is raised by his grateful parishoners and friends to the memory of the Reverend Samuel Crowther, M.A., formerly fellow of New College, Oxford, and nearly

thirty

years minister of these united parishes. He was born

January 9, 1769

, and died

September 28, 1829

. Gifted with many excellent endowments, he was enabled by grace to consecrate all to the service of his Divine Master. The zeal, perseverance, and fidelity with which, under much bodily infirmity, he laboured in this place till his last illness (borne nearly

five

years with exemplary resignation), his humble, disinterested, and catholic spirit, his suavity of manners, and sanctity of life, manifested a self-devotion to the cause of Christ, and the best interests of mankind, never to be forgotten by his flock; to whom he endeared himself, not more in the able discharge of his public duties than in his assiduous and affectionate ministrations, as their private counsellor, comforter and friend; and among whom the young, the poor, and the afflicted were the especial objects of his solicitude. To the excellence of that gospel which he preached with a simple and persuasive eloquence, that gained every ear, his life has left a testimony, sealed in death, by which he yet speaks.

The tombs of alabaster and marble, and the marble gravestones from this church, sold for by the greedy goldsmith, Martin Bowes, we have already mentioned, in our chapter on .

Among the more remarkable epitaphs is the following, on the tablet to the memory of the Rev. Joseph Trapp just referred to; It was written by Trapp himself:--

Death, judgement, heaven and hell! think, Christian, think!

You stand on vast eternity's dread brink;

Faith and repentance, piety and prayer,

Despise this world, the next be all our care ;

This, while my tomb the solemn silence breaks,

And to the eye this cold dumb marble speaks,

Tho' dead I preach: if e'er with ill success

Living, I strove the important truths to press,

Your precious, your immortal souls to save,

Hear meat least, oh, hear me from the grave!

The steeple of is thought by many very pleasing.

It rises,

says Mr. Godwin, who in some respects condemns it,

as all Wren's towers

do

rise, and as all towers should

rise,

directly from the ground, giving to the mind of the beholder that assurance of stability which under other circumstances is wanting.

There are small Grecian columns on each storey of the tower, and an elliptical pediment. The vases on the top of the peristyle were taken down some years ago. The basement storey of is open on sides, and forms a porch to the east chancel. The east end, which faces , is disfigured by enormous buttresses. In a vault, discovered in , near the church, is the well-preserved body of a man, supposed to be that of some Newgate malefactor.

The Spital sermons, says Mr. Trollope in , in his book on , originated in an old custom, by which some learned person was appointed yearly by the Bishop of London to preach at Cross, on Good Friday, on the subject of

Christ's Passion.

On the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday following other divines were appointed to uphold the doctrine of

The Resurrection,

at the pulpit-cross in the Spital (Spitalfields). On the Sunday following, a preached at Paul's Cross, and passed judgment upon the merits of those who had preceded him. At these sermons the Lord Mayor and aldermen attended, ladies also, on the Monday, forming part of the procession; and, at the close of each day's solemnity, his lordship and the sheriffs gave a private dinner to such of their friends amongst the aldermen as attended the sermon. From this practice the civic festivities at Easter were at length extended to a magnificent scale. The children of took part in the above solemnities, so that, in , When it became necessary to rebuild the pulpit-cross at the Spital, a gallery was erected also for their accommodation. In the great Rebellion the pulpit was destroyed, and the sermons were discontinued till the Restoration, after which the Spital sermons, as they were still called, were revived at ,

p.430

. They have since been reduced to , and, from , have been delivered at , .

It was on their appearance at the Spital that the children of wore the blue costume by which they have since been distinguished.

Instead of the subjects,

continues Mr. Trollope,

which were wont to be discussed from the pulpit-cross of St Mary Spital, discourses are now delivered commemorative of the objects of the

five

sister hospitals; and a report is read of the number of children maintained and educated, and of sick, disorderly, and lunatic persons for whom provision is made in each respectively. On each day the boys of

Christ's Hospital

, with the legend

He is risen

attached to their left shoulders, form part of the civic procession, walking, on the

first

day, in the order of their schools, the king's boys bearing their nautical instruments, and, on the

second

, according to their several wards, headed by their nurses.

A curious old bas-relief, says Mr. Cunningham (writing in ), not ill-cut, over the entrance to Bull's head Court, preserves the memory of a small giant and a very great dwarf. The quaint effigies of the disproportioned couple represent William Evans, an enormous Welsh porter, at , in the service of Charles I., and [extra_illustrations.2.430.1] , the vain but gallant dwarf immortalised by Scott, in This bas-relief, Walpole thinks, was probably a shop-sign. Evans, a mammoth-like man, stood feet inches high, while his choleric companion was only feet inches. At a court masque at , the porter drew Sir Jeffrey out of his pocket, to the amazement and amusement of all the ladies of that not too respectable court.

Hudson's

first

appearance at Court,

says Sir Walter, in a noteto

was his being presented, as mentioned in the text, in a pie, at an entertainment given by the Duke of Buckingham to Charles I. and Henrietta Maria. Upon the same occasion the duke presented the tenant of the pasty to the queen, who retained, him as her page. When about

eight

years of age, he was but eighteen or

twenty

inches high, and he remained stationary at that stature till he was

thirty

years old, when he grew to the height of

three

feet

nine

inches, and there stopped.

Being teased by a young gallant, named Crofts, who threatened to drown him with a syringe, Hudson called out his antagonist at Calais, and killed him with his shot.

This singular

lusus naturae

,

says Scott,

was trusted in some negotiations of consequence. He went to France, to fetch over a midwife to his mistress, Henrietta Maria. On his return he was taken by Dunkirk privateers, when he lost many. valuable presents sent to the queen from France, and about £ 2,500 of his own. Sir William Davenant makes a real or supposed combat between the dwarf and a turkey-cock the subject of a poem called Jeffreidos. The scene is laid at Dunkirk, where, as the satire concludes- Jeffrey strait was thrown when, faint and weak, The cruel fowl assaults him with his beak. A lady midwife now he there by chance Espied, that came along with him from France. A heart brought up in war, that ne'er before This time could bow, he said, doth now implore Thou, that delivered hast so many, be So kind of nature as deliver me.

In 1644 the dwarf attended his royal mistress to France. The Restoration recalled him, with other royalists, to England. But this poor being, who received, it would seem, hard measure both from nature and fortune, was not doomed to close his days in peace. Poor Jeffrey, upon some suspicion respecting the Popish Plot, was taken up in 1682, and confined in the Gatehouse Prison, Westminster, where he ended his life, in the sixty-third year of his age. Jeffrey Hudson has been immortalised by the brush of Vandyke, and his clothes are said to be preserved as articles of curiosity in Sir Hans Sloane's museum.

It was to the

Salutation and Cat

(odd combination of incongruous signs), No. , , that Coleridge used to retreat, in his youthful fits of melancholy abstraction at college debts, bad health, impotency of will, and lost opportunities. This was about the time that, by a wild impulse, day, at the corner of , the young philosopher enlisted in the Light Dragoons, under the odd north-country name of Comberbach. It was at the

Salutation and Cat

that [extra_illustrations.2.430.2]  day ferreted out the lost dreamer, the veritable Alnaschar of modern literature, and tried to rouse him from the trance of fear and half-insane idleness. The

Magpie and Stump,

a very old inn on the north side of this street (where the old sign of the place was reverently preserved in the bar), has lately been pulled down.

At a convivial meeting at the

Queen's Arms Tavern

(No. ), says Peter Cunningham, Tom D'Urfey obtained the suggestion of his merry but coarse miscellany,

Pills to purge Melancholy.

This Court wit, a naturalised French Huguenot seems to have been the gay, witty, careless Captain Morris of his day. People often spoke of seeing

p.431

King Charles II., at , leaning on Tom's shoulder and humming, over a song with him, and to have heard him at Kensington, singing his own gay songs, to amuse heavy Queen Anne. He was the author of plays, which have not been forgotten by original dramatists of a later date. He became poor in his old age, and Addison saved him from poverty by a well-timed theatrical benefit,

In , south side of , a was built by Wren, when the Great Fire had destroyed their house at , where Harvey had lectured on his great discovery of the circulation of the blood. The house, built on part of the mansion of the old Earl of Warwick, was began in , and opened in . The special point of the college was the octagonal domed entrance-porch, feet in diameter, which was of the ingenious architect The interior above the porch was the lecture-room, light, lofty, and open to the roof. Garth, in --his pleasant satire against the apothecaries, thus sketched it--

Not far from that most celebrated place

Where angry Justice shows her awful face,

Where little villains must submit to fate,

That great ones may enjoy the world in state,

There stands a dome, majestic to the sight,

And sumptuous arches bear its oval height;

A golden globe; plac'd high with artful skill,

Seems to the distant sight--a gilded pill.

The amphitheatre, afterwards degraded into a meat-market, is praised by Elmes for its convenient arrangement and its acoustic qualities. Nor could even the modern Goth despise the fine lofty hall, the magnificent staircase, the stucco-garlands of the dining-room, and the carved oak chimney-piece and gallery. On the north and south were the residences of the college officers, on the west the principal front, -storeyed, the lower Ionic, the upper Corinthian. On the east was the octagon, with the gilt ball above, and below a statue of Sir John Cutler.

About this same Cutler an odd story is told, which is well worth repeating.

In (Charles II.) Sir John Cutler, a rich city man, and a notorious miser, related to Dr. Whistler, the president of the college, expressed a generous wish to contribute largely to the rebuilding of the house, and a committee was actually appointed to thank him for his kind intentions. Cutler gravely accepted the thanks, renewed his promises, and mentioned the parts of the building for which he intended to pay. In the college, grateful for favours yet to come, voted statues to the king and Cutler, and years afterwards borrowed money of Sir John, to discharge some builder's debts, the college being now completed. This loan seems to have in some way changed Cutler's intentions, for in his executors brought a demand on the college for , including the promised sum which had never been given, but had been set down as a debt. The indignant college threw down , which the imperturbable executors took as payment in full. The college at once erased the grateful inscription-

Omnis Cutleri cedit labor Amphitheatro,

which they had engraved on the pedestal of the miser's statue, and would no doubt have ground the statue down to powder, had they not been ashamed.

This Cutler was the same Volpone whom Pope mentions, in his -

His grace's fate sage Cutler could foresee,

And well (he thought) advised him,

Live like me.

As well his grace replied,

Like you, Sir John?

That I can do, when all I have is gone.

Cutler is ridiculed by Arbuthnot, in his where, in ridicule of of Locke's philosophic opinions, he describes a pair of Cutler's cottons, which were darned so often by his maid, that they at last became silk. Cutler's funeral is said to have cost , and of his daughters married the Earl of Radnor.

Some anecdotes of th old physicians who have paced up and down seem almost indispensable to a sketch, however brief, of the old . No can we begin better than with the famous Dr. Radcliffe, the preeminent physician that arose after the removal of the college to the building erected by Wren in . Radcliffe, a man eager for money, and of rough Abernethy manners, had the cream of all the London practice, when he lived in , next door to Sir Godfrey Kneller, the great painter. He was brusque even with kings. When called in to see King William, at Kensington, finding his legs dropsically swollen, he frankly said,

I would not have your

two

legs, your Majesty, not for your

three

kingdoms;

and on another visit the Jacobite doctor boldly told the little Dutch hero-

Your juices are all vitiated, your whole mass of blood corrupted, and the nutriment for the most part turned to water; but,

added the doctor,

if your Majesty will forbear making long visits to the Earl of Bradford

(where, to tell the truth, the king was wont to drink very hard),

I'll engage to make you live

three

or

four

years longer, but beyond that time no physic can protract your Majesty's existence.

On occasion, when Radcliffe was sent for from the tavern (for he did not dislike wine) by

p.432

Queen Anne, he flatly refused to leave his bottle and the company.

Tell her Royal Highness,

he bellowed,

that it's nothing but the vapours. She is as well as any woman breathing, only she won't believe it.

With a fantastic wit worthy of Sydney Smith himself, he told a hypochondriacal lady who consulted him about a nervous singing in the head, to

curl her hair with a ballad;

and in his vexation at the fancies of female patients, he anticipated female doctors, by proposing an Act of Parliament to entitle nurses alone to attend women.

Dr. Radcliffe was once sent for,

says the author of

into the country, to visit a gentleman ill of a quinsy. Finding that no external or internal application would be of service, he desired the lady of the house to order a hasty-pudding to be made. When it was done, his own servants were to bring it up; and while the pudding was preparing, he gave them his private instructions. In a short time it was set on the table, and in full view of the patient.

Come, Jack and Dick,

said Radcliffe,

eat as quickly as possible; you have had no breakfast this morning.

Both began with their spoons; but on Jack's dipping once only for Dick's twice, a quarrel arose.

College Of Physicians, Warwick Lane. Interior Of The Quadrangle.

Spoonfuls of hot pudding were discharged on both sides, and at last handfuls were pelted at each other. The patient was seized with a hearty fit of laughter, the quinsy burst, and discharged its contents, and my master soon completed the cure.

Steele, in the , ridiculed the old doctor's love-making. Dr. Radcliffe was unlucky enough to be accused by the Whigs of killing Queen Mary, and by the Tories of causing the death of Queen Anne, by refusing to attend her in her last illness. He was himself dying at the time, and was unable to attend; but the clamour of the mob was so loud, accompanied even by threats of assassination, that they are said to have hastened the great physician's death, which took place just months after the queen died.

Dr. Mead, the physician of George II., was, unlike Radcliffe, a polished and learned man, who succeeded to much of his predecessor's business, and occupied his old house in . He was the doctor to encourage inoculation for the small-pox, and practised the Oriental system on condemned criminals, with the consent of George I. He attended Pope, Sir Isaac Newton, and Bishop Burnet in their last illnesses. Mead is

p.433

said to have gained nearly a year yet was so hospitable, that he did not leave more than . When not at his house in , Mead usually spent his evenings at

Batson's

Coffee House, and in the afternoon his apothecaries used to meet him at

Toms',

near Covent Garden, with written or verbal reports of cases for which he prescribed without seeing the patient, and took half-guinea fees. He died in , and was buried in the Temple. As an instance of Mead's generosity the following story is told:--In , when the celebrated Dr. Friend, a friend of Atterbury, was sent to the Tower, Mead kindly took his practice, and on his release by Sir Robert Walpole, presented the escaped Jacobite with the result, guineas.

 

Dr. Askew, another of the great physicians of the Georgian era, lived in , where he crammed his house with books, and entertained such men as Archbishop Markham, Sir William Jones, Dr. Farmer,

Demosthenes

Taylor, Dr. Parr, and Hogarth. The sale of Dr. Askew's library, in , Covent Garden (), occupied days.

Dr. William Pitcairn, who resided in , , was for several years president of the college. [extra_illustrations.2.434.1] , another eminent physician here, was a nephew of the great John Hunter. Sir Hans Sloane was elected President of the in . He was an Irishman by birth, and a Scotchman by descent, and had accompanied the Duke of Albemarle to

p.434

Jamaica as his physician. In he was created President of the Royal Society, on the death of Sir Isaac Newton, and became physician to George II. On his death, in , his museum and library were purchased by the nation, and became the nucleus of the .

In this brief notice of early physicians we must not forget to include that very -rate poet, Sir Richard Blackmore, son of a Wiltshire attorney. No poor poet was ever so ridiculed as this great man of Saddlers' Hall. Dryden and Pope both set him up in their Parnassian pillory; and of him Swift wrote-

Sternhold himself he out-Sternholded.

Dryden called him-

A pedant, canting preacher, and a quack.

In spite of this endless abuse of a well-meaning man, William III. knighted him, and Addison pronounced his ambitious poem, to be

one

of the, most useful and noble productions in our English verse.

Among the eccentric physicians who have paced up and down , and passed across the shadow of the Golden Pill, was [extra_illustrations.2.434.2] , a friend of Garrick, and physician to College. Of this rough old cynic Mr. J. C. Jeaffreson, in his tells the following capital stories:--

Amongst the vagaries of this eccentric physician,

says Mr. Jeaffreson,

was the way in which he extracted his own teeth. Round the tooth sentenced to be drawn he fastened securely a strong piece of catgut, to the opposite side of which he affixed a bullet. With this bullet, and a full measure of powder, a pistol was charged. On the trigger being pulled, the operation was performed effectually and speedily. The doctor could only rarely prevail upon his friends to permit him to remove their teeth by this original process. Once a gentleman who had agreed to try the novelty, and had even allowed the apparatus to be adjusted, at the last moment exclaimed, Stop, stop, I have changed my mind But I haven't, and you're a fool and a coward for your pains, answered the doctor, pulling the trigger. In another instant, the tooth was extracted, much to the timid patient's delight and astonishment.

Before setting out, on one occasion, for a journey to Norfolk, incredulous with regard to cash-boxes and bureaus, he hid a considerable quantity of gold and notes in the fireplace of his study, covering them up artistically with cinders and shavings. A month afterwards, returning (luckily a few days before he was expected), he found his old housemaid preparing to entertain a few friends at tea in her master's room. The hospitable domestic was on the point of lighting the fire, and had just applied a candle to the doctor's notes, when he entered the room, seized on a pail of water that chanced to be standing near, and, throwing its contents over the fuel and the old woman, extinguished the fire and her presence of mind at the same time. Some of the notes, as it was, were injured, and the Bank of England made objections to cashing them.

Monsey lived to extreme old age, dying in his Rooms in College on the , in his year;

and his will,

continues Mr. Jeaffreson,

was as remarkable as any other feature of his career. To a young lady mentioned in it, with the most lavish encomiums on her wit, taste, and elegance, was left an old battered snuff-box, not worth sixpence; and to another young lady, whom the testator says he intended to have enriched with a handsome legacy, he leaves the gratifying assurance that he changed his mind on finding her

a pert, conceited minx.

After inveighing against bishops, deans, and chapters, he left an annuity to

two

clergymen who had resigned their preferment on account of the Athanasian doctrine. He directed that his body should not be insulted with any funeral ceremony, but should undergo dissection. After which, the

remainder of my carcase

(to use his own words)

may be put into a hole, or crammed into a box with holes, and thrown into the Thames.

In obedience to this part of the wills Mr. Forster, surgeon, of

Union Court

,

Broad Street

, dissected the body, and delivered a lecture on it to the medical students, in the theatre of

Guy's Hospital

. The bulk of the doctor's fortune, amounting to about

£ 16,000

, was left to his only daughter for life, and after her demise, by a complicated entail, to her

female

descendants.

As a physician, Dr. John C. Lettsom, who died in , was a most fortunate man; for without any high reputation for professional acquirements, and with the exact reverse of a good preliminary education, he made a larger income than any other physician of the same time. Dr. John Fothergill never made more than in year; but Lettsom earned in ; in ; in ; and in . After that period his practice rapidly increased, so that in some years his receipts were as much as .

That singular club, the Cauliflower, chiefly patronised by booksellers from , was held at the

Three

Jolly Pigeons

in Butcher Hall

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Lane, now .

The

Three

Pigeons,

says the anonymous author of Tavern Anecdotes (),

is situated in

Butcher Hall Lane

, bounded by

Christ Church

and

Snow Hill

on the west,

St. Martin's-le-Grand

and

Cheapside

on the east, by

Newgate Street

and

Ivy Lane

(where Dr. Johnson's club was held), and

Paternoster row

on the south, and by

Little Britain

on the north. Of the last-mentioned, Washington Irving has given an admirable picture in his

Sketch Book;

but as he has not given a portrait of the last resident bookseller of eminence in that ancient mart of bibliopolists, he has left us the pleasing task of performing an humble attempt in that way; but even we, who knew the character, are almost spared the trouble; for, could the old literary frequenters of Batson's and Will's Coffee-houses again appear in human shapes, with their large, wiry, white, curled wigs, coats without a collar, raised hair buttons, square pendicular cut in front, with immense long hanging sleeves, covering a delicate hand, further graced by fine ruffles; a long waistcoat, with angled-off flaps, descending to the centre of the thigh; the small-clothes slashed in front, and closed with

three

small buttons;. with accurate and mathematically cut, square-toed, shortquartered shoes, with a large tongue, to prevent a small-sized square silver buckle hurting the instep, or soiling the fine silken hose, they would present an exact and faithful portrait of the late Edward Ballard standing at his shop, at the

Globe,

over against the pump, in

Little Britain

. He was the last remaining bookseller of that school, if we except the late James Buckland, at the sign of the

Buck,

in

Paternoster row

, with

one

or

two

others, and put

one

in mind of Alexander Pope, in stature, size, dress, and appearance. The writer of this article recollects, when a boy, frequently calling at his shop, and purchasing various books, in a new and unbound state, when they were considered to be out of print, and some of them really scarce. This arose from the

obscurity

of the once celebrated

Little Britain

, and the great age of its last resident bookseller, who to the last retained some shares and copyrights (notwithstanding he and his brother had sold the most valuable to Lintot), in school and religious books; with the last remains of a stock, principally guarded and watched by an old faithful female servant.

The permanent secretary of the

Free and Easy Counsellors under the Cauliflower

was a worthy old fellow, Mr. Christopher Brown, an assistant of Mr. Thomas Longman, in , who delighted in his quiet glass of Tabby's punch, a pipe, and a song, after the labours of the day. This faithful old clerk had refused all offers of friends to set him up in independent business. Before the purchase of Mr. Evans's business the great firm of Longman was conducted by merely principals and assistants.

The large cauliflower painted on the ceiling of the club was intended to represent the cauliflower head on the gallon of porter, which was paid for by every member who sat under it at his initiation. The president's chair, a masterpiece of Chippendale's workmanship, was sold in at Christie and Manson's. The height is feet less inches; breadth in front, from to inches. An exquisitely-carved cauliflower adorns the chair, extending from near the top of the chair downwards to the end of the root exactly foot; while the spread-out leaves, including the flower, extend a foot across; so that it was literally true of whoever occupied the chair, that he sat

under the cauliflower.

The sides and arms of the chair are adorned with leaves, and both legs and arms are fluted, the whole being carved out of solid dark Spanish mahogany. A footboard, serving the purpose of a slightly-raised platform for the use of the speaker, also of solid mahogany, is attached to the chair by hinges.

In , , of the bagnios, or Turkish bath, was opened in , as Aubrey carefully records. Strype calls it

a neatcontrived building, after the Turkish mode, seated in a large handsome yard, and at the upper end of Pincock Lane, which is indifferent well-built, and inhabited. This bagnio is much resorted unto for sweating, being found very good for aches, &c., and approved of by our physicians.

A writer in the , No. , mentions the bagnio in , and in . Hatton, in , describes it as a very spacious and commodious place for sweating, hot bathing, and cupping, and with a temperature of eighteen degrees of heat. The roof was of a cupola shape, and the walls set with Dutch tiles. The charge was a person, and there were special days for ladies. There were servants in attendance; and to prove the healthiness of the place, Hatton mentions that servant had been in attendance for years, days a week.

, an obscure turning between and , was, in , the scene of a great imposture. The ghost supposed to have been heard rapping there, in reply to questions, singularly resembled the familiar spirits of our modern mediums. The affair commenced in , by Parsons, the officiating clerk of St. Sepulchre's, observing, at early prayer, a genteel

p.436

couple standing in the aisle, and ordering them into a pew. On the service ending, the gentleman stopped to thank Parsons, and to ask him if he knew of a lodging in the neighbourhood. Parsons at once offered rooms in his own house, in , and they were accepted. The gentleman proved to be a widower of family from Norfolk, and the lady the sister of his deceased wife, with whom he privately lived, unable, from the severity of the cruel old canon law, to marry her, as they both wished. In his absence in the country, the lady, who went by the name of Miss Fanny, had Parson's daughter, a little artful girl about years of age, to sleep with her. In the night the lady and the child were disturbed by extraordinary noises, which were at attributed to a neighbouring shoemaker. Neighbours were called in to hear the sounds, which continued till the gentleman and lady removed to Clerkenwell, where the lady soon after died of small-pox. In January of the next year, according to Parsons, who, from a spirit of revenge against his late lodger, organised the whole fraud, the spiritualistic knockings and scratchings re-commenced. The child, from under whose bedstead these supposed supernatural sounds emanated, pretended to have fits, and Parsons began to interrogate the ghost, and was answered with affirmative and negative knocks. The ghost, under cross-examination, declared that it was the deceased lady lodger, who, according to Parsons, had been poisoned by a glass of purl, which had contained arsenic. Thousands of persons, of all ranks and stations, now crowded to , to hear the ghost, and the most ludicrous scenes took place with these poor gulls.

Even Horace Walpole was magnetically drawn to the clerk's house in . The clever fribble writes to Sir Horace Mann, :

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 Apennines. 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. I, in which number you may guess, go to-morrow; for it is as much the mode to visit the ghost as the Prince of Mecklenburg, who is just arrived. I have not seen him yet, though I have left my name for him.

Again Walpole writes:--

I went to hear it, 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 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 borrowed, and to which the ghost has adjourned, is wretchedly 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 murdering 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 them contributions. Provisions are sent in like forage, and all the taverns and ale-houses in the neighbourhood make fortunes.

(Walpole to George Montagu, .)

Of the descent into the vaults of , Clerkenwell, to hear the spirits rap on her coffinlid, Johnson, who was present, writes :--

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, where they interrogated the father of the girl, who denied in the strongest terms any knowledge or belief of fraud. While they were inquiring and deliberating, they were summoned 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, when the spirit was very solemnly required to manifest its existence by appearance, by impression on the hand or body of any present, or any other agency; but 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 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.

In the following account of a a pamphleteer of the time says:--

To have a proper idea of this scene, as it is now carried on, the reader is to conceive a very small room, with a bed in the middle; the girl at the usual hour of going to bed, is undressed, and put in with proper solemnity. The spectators are next introduced, who sit looking at each other, suppressing laughter, and wait in silent expectation for the opening of the scene. As the ghost is a good deal offended at incredulity, the persons present are to conceal theirs, if they have any, as by this concealment they can only hope to gratify their curiosity; for, if they show, either before or when the knocking is begun, a too prying, inquisitive, or ludicrous turn of thinking, the ghost continues usually silent, or, to use the expression of the house, Miss Fanny is angry. The spectators, therefore, have nothing for it but to sit quiet and credulous, otherwise they must hear no ghost, which is no small disappointment to persons who have come for no other purpose.

The girl, who knows, by some secret, when the ghost is to appear, sometimes apprizes the assistants of its intended visitation. It first begins to scratch, and then to answer questions, giving two knocks for a negative, but one for an affirmative. By this means it tells whether a watch, when held up, be white, blue, yellow, or black; how many clergymen are in the room, though in this sometimes mistaken. It evidently distinguishes white men from negroes, with similar other marks of sagacity. However, it is sometimes mistaken in questions of a private nature, when it deigns to answer them. For instance, the ghost was ignorant where she had dined upon Mr. K--'s marriage; how many of her relations were at church upon the same occasion; but, particularly, she called her father John, instead of Thomas--a mistake, indeed, a little extraordinary in a ghost. But perhaps she was willing to verify the old proverb, that It is a wise child that knows its own father. However, though sometimes right, and sometimes wrong, she pretty invariably persists in one story, namely, that she was poisoned, in a cup of purl, by red arsenic, a poison unheard of before, by Mr. K--, in her last illness, and that she heartily wishes him hanged.

It is no easy matter to remark upon an evidence of this nature; but it may not be unnecessary to observe, that the ghost, though fond of company, is particularly modest upon these occasions, an enemy to the light of a candle, and always most silent before those from whose rank and understanding she could most reasonably expect redress.

This knocking and scratching was generally heard in a little room in which Mr. P----'s two children lay, the eldest of which was a girl about twelve or thirteen years old. The purport of this knocking was not thoroughly conceived till the eldest child pretended to see the actual ghost of the deceased lady mentioned above. When she had seen the ghost, a weak, ignorant publican also, who lived in the neighbourhood, asserted that he had seen it too, and Mr. P-- himself (the gentleman whom Mr. K-- had disobliged by suing for money) also saw the ghost about the same time. The girl saw it without hands, in a shroud; the other two saw it with hands, all luminous and shining. There was one unlucky circumstance, however, in the apparition. Though it appeared to three several persons, and could knock, scratch, and flutter, yet its coming would have been to no manner of purpose had it not been kindly assisted by the persons thus haunted. It was impossible for a ghost that could not speak to make any, discovery; the people, therefore, to whom it appeared, kindly undertook to make the discovery themselves, and the ghost, by knocking, gave its assent to their method of wording the accusation.

The girl was at last, we are glad to say, detected. When the child was bound hand and foot in a hammock, the ghost, it was found, was always silent. morning, when the child had been threatened with Newgate if she did not arouse the ghost, she was found to have concealed a small board under her stays, on which she produced the supernatural sounds. The bubble then burst.

The gentleman accused, remarks Mr. Pinks;

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 acted as interpreter of the noises, a clergyman, and a, tradesman, were tried at

Guildhall

, before Lord Mansfield, by a special jury, and convicted of conspiracy. Sentence was deferred for several months, in order to give the offenders an opportunity of making Mr.--some compensation in the meantime. Accordingly, the clergyman and tradesman gave him several

hundred pounds

, and were thereupon dismissed with a reprimand. Parsons was

sentenced to be placed

three

times in the pillory, at the end of

Cock Lane

, and then to be imprisoned for

two

years in the King's Bench gaol. Strange to relate, the rabble, who usually assembled in large numbers to witness and to assist in carrying out the former part of such a sentence, were in this case moved with compassion for the victim of the strong arm of the law, and refrained from offering him, while thus exposed, any insult, either by word or deed, and a public subscription was afterwards raised for his benefit. Mrs. Parsons was sentenced to be imprisoned for

one

year, and Mary Frazer for

six

months, with hard labour. Miss Parsons, the agent of the mysterious noise, and who doubtless acted under her father's instructions, was twice married, and died in

1806

.

 

While drawing the crypt of

St. John's

, Clerkenwell,

says Mr. J. W. Archer,

in a narrow cloister on the north side, there being at that time coffins, fragments of shrouds, and human remains lying about in disorder, the sexton's boy pointed to

one

of the coffins, and said that it was

Scratching Fanny.

This reminding me of the

Cock Lane

Ghost, I removed the lid of the coffin, which was loose, and saw the body of a woman, which had become adipocere. The face was perfect, handsome, oval, with an aquiline nose. Will not arsenic produce adipocere? She is said to have been poisoned, although the charge is understood to have been disproved. I inquired of

one

of the churchwardens of the time, Mr. Bird, who said 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

.

At the

King's head,

in , Dr. Johnson established of his earliest clubs for literary dis cussion. The chief members were the Rev. Dr Salter, father of the Master of the Charterhouse Mr. (afterwards Dr.) John Hawkesworth; Mr Ryland, a merchant, a relation of Johnson's; Mr John Payne, then a bookseller, afterwards chief accountant of the Bank; Mr. Samuel Dyer, a learned young man, intended for the dissenting ministry; Dr. William M'Ghie, a Scots physician; Dr. Edmund Barker, a young physician; Dr. Richard Bathurst, and Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Hawkins.

[extra_illustrations.2.439.1] , now removed to the neighbourhood of Charterhouse, was originally a mealmarket.

R. B.,

in Strype, says that before the Great Fire there was a market-house here for meal, and a middle row of sheds, which had gradually been converted into houses for butchers, tripe-sellers, and the like. The country-people who brought provisions were forced to stand with their stalls in the open street, exposed to all the coaches, carts, horses, and cattle. The meat-market, says Peter Cunningham, had become a centre of trade
when the stalls and sheds were removed from and the localities round the church of St. Nicholas Shambles.

, Stow says, derived its name from an ancient house there, built by the Earls of Warwick. This messuage in Eldenese Lane (the old name) is on record in the year of Henry VI. as occupied by Cicille, Duchess of Warwick. In the year of Henry VI., when the greater estates of the realm were called to London, Richard Nevill, the Earl of Warwick, justly named the

king-maker,

came there, backed by sturdy vassals, all in red jackets embroidered with ragged staves before and behind.

At whose house,

says Stow,

there were oftentimes

six

oxen eaten at a breakfast; and every tavern was full of his meat, for he that had any acquaintance at that house might have there so much of sodden and roast meat as he could prick and carry upon a long dagger.

[extra_illustrations.2.439.2] , with the date , is inserted in the wall of end of .

The [extra_illustrations.2.440.1] , on the east side of the lane, is the house where Archbishop Leighton

p.440

 

[extra_illustrations.2.440.2] 

[extra_illustrations.2.440.3]  died. According to Burnet, in his

History of His Own Times,

he (

Archbishop Leighton

) used often to say that if he were to choose a place to die in, it should be an inn; it looking like a pilgrim's going home, to whom this world was all as an inn, and who was weary of the noise and confusion in it. He added that the officious tenderness and care of friends was an entanglement to a dying man; and that the unconcerned attendance of those that could be procured in such a place would give less disturbance. And he obtained what he desired; for he died (

1684

) at the

Bell

Inn, in

Warwick Lane

.

The

Oxford Arms

Inn, formerly on the west side of the street, is mentioned in a carrier's advertisement in the , -. Edward Bartlet, an Oxford carrier, who had removed from the

Swan

at Bridge, started his coaches and wagons from thence times a week. He also announced that he kept a hearse, to convey

a corps

to any part of England.

is called Snore Hill by Stow, and Sore Hill by Howell. At the time of the Great Fire it seems to have been known as Snore Hill and indifferently. By the time Gay wrote his antithetical line-

When from

Snow Hill

black steepy torrents run,

however, the latter name seems to have become fixed. It was always an awkward, roundabout road; and in , when was built, it was superseded as the highway between and .

There is event in its history, brief as it is, that deserves special remembrance. At the house of his friend, Mr. Strudwick, a grocer, at the sign of the

Star,

, that brave old Christian, [extra_illustrations.2.440.5] , died, in . This extraordinary genius was the son of a tinker, at Elstow, near Bedford, and grew up a wild, dissolute youth, but seems to have received early strong religious impressions. He served in the Parliamentary army at the siege of Leicester, and the death of a comrade who took his post as a sentry produced a deep effect on his thoughtful mind. On returning to Elstow, Bunyan married a pious young woman, who seems to have led him to read and study religious books. At the age of , after great spiritual struggles, Bunyan was admitted into church-fellowship with the Baptists, and baptised, probably near midnight, in a small stream near Bedford Bridge. His spiritual struggles still continued, he believed himself rejected, and the day of grace past; then came even doubts of the being of a God, and of the authority of the Scriptures. A terrible illness, threatening consumption, followed this mental struggle, but with health came the calm of a serene faith, and he entered the ministry. A great trouble followed, to further purify this great soul. He lost his wife; but a wife proved equally good and faithful. It being a time of persecution, Bunyan was soon thrown into Bedford gaol, where he pined for long years. There, with some other innocent people, Bunyan preached and prayed incessantly, and wrote the part of his immortal

Parting with his wife and children Bunyan himself describes as

pulling the flesh from his bones,

and his heart was especially wrung by the possible hardships of his poor blind daughter, Mary.

Oh, the thought of the hardships my poor blind

one

might be under,

he says,

would break my heart to pieces.

Bunyan maintained himself in prison by making tagged laces, and the only books he had were the bible and Foxe's

Book of Martyrs.

When God makes the bed,

he says, in of his works,

he must needs be easy that is cast thereon. A blessed pillow hath that man for his head, though to all beholders it is hard as a stone.

The jug in which his broth was daily taken to the prison is still preserved as a relic, and his gold ring was discovered under the floor when the prison was demolished.

Bunyan was released in , when Quakers and Baptists were also set free. He then obtained a licence to preach at a [extra_illustrations.2.440.6]  in Bedford, and he also continued his trade as a brazier. In this good man published his allegory, and completed the last part of

In spite of his consistent zeal, Bunyan was denounced by his enemies as a wizard, a Jesuit, and a highwayman. His popularity among his own people was, however, very great. When he preached in London some people used to collect, so that he had almost to be pulled over their heads into the pulpit. His end was characteristic. He was returning home from a visit to Reading, where he had gone to reconcile an offended father to a prodigal son, when he was seized, at the house in , with a fatal fever. His departure must have been like that of the pilgrims he himself describes :--

Now I saw in my dream that by this time the pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah (Isa. lxii.

4

--

12

; Cant. ii.

10

-

12

), whose air was very sweet and pleasant; the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day

Moor Gate

Bridge Gate

the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair, neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were going to; also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the shining ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of Heaven.

To also belongs an anecdote of Dobson, of the most eminent of our early painters. Dobson, son of the master in the Alienation Office, was compelled by his father's extravagance to become an apprentice to a stationer and picturedealer. He soon began to excel in copying Titian and Vandyke, and exhibited his copies in a window in . Vandyke himself, who lived in Blackfriars, not far off, passing day, was so struck with Dobson's work, that he went in and inquired for the author. He found him at work in a poor garret, from which he soon rescued him. He shortly afterwards recommended him to King Charles, who took him into his service, and sat to him often for his portrait, and gave him the name of the English Tintoret. Dobson's style is dignified and thoughtful, and his colour delightful in tone. of his finest portrait groups is at , and in the in the fine collection at Wilton House, he is said to have introduced a portrait of Prince Rupert. The Civil Wars, and the indifference which the Puritans manifested to art, no doubt reduced Dobson to poverty, and he died poor and neglected, in , in .

 
 
Footnotes:

[extra_illustrations.2.428.1] Jefferies

[extra_illustrations.2.429.1] Bill head-Henry Servante, 103 Newgate Street

[extra_illustrations.2.430.1] Sir Geoffrey, or Jeffrey Hudson

[extra_illustrations.2.430.2] Southey

[extra_illustrations.2.434.1] Dr. Baillie

[extra_illustrations.2.434.2] Monsey

[extra_illustrations.2.439.1] Newgate Market

[extra_illustrations.2.439.2] A little bas-relief of the famous Guy, Earl of Warwick

[extra_illustrations.2.440.1] Old Bell Inn

[extra_illustrations.2.440.2] St. Andrew's Church from Snow Hill

[extra_illustrations.2.440.3] Bunyan's Statue, Bedford

[extra_illustrations.2.440.5] John Bunyan

[extra_illustrations.2.440.6] chapel

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 Title Page
 Chapter I: Fishmonger's Hall and Fish Street Hill
 Chapter II: London Bridge
 Chapter III: Upper Thames Street
 Chapter IV: Upper Thames Street
 Chapter V: Lower Thames Street
 Chapter VI: The Tower
 Chapter VII: The Tower (continued)
 Chapter VIII: Old Jewel House
 Chapter IX: The Tower, Visitors to the Tower
 Chapter X: The Neighbourhood of the Tower
 Chapter XI: Neighbourhood of the Tower, The Mint
 Chapter XII: Neighbourhood Of The Tower
 Chapter XIII: St. Katherine's Docks
 Chapter XIV: The Tower Subway and London Docks
 Chapter XV: The Thames Tunnel
 Chapter XVI: Stepney
 Chapter XVII: Whitechapel
 Chapter XVIII: Bethnal Green
 Chapter XIX: Spitalfields
 Chapter XX: Bishopsgate
 Chapter XXI: Bishopsgate
 Chapter XXII: Cornhill
 Chapter XXIII: Leadenhall Street
 Chapter XXIV: Leadenhall Street
 Chapter XXV: Shoreditch
 Chapter XXVI: Moorfields
 Chapter XXVII: Aldersgate Street
 Chapter XXVIII: Aldersgate Street
 Chapter XXIX: Cripplegate
 Chapter XXX: Aldgate
 Chapter XXXI: Islington
 Chapter XXXII: Islington
 Chapter XXXIII: Canonbury
 Chapter XXXIV: Highbury-Upper Holloway-King's Cross
 Chapter XXXV: Pentonville
 Chapter XXXVI: Sadler's Wells
 Chapter XXXVII: Bagnigge Wells
 Chapter XXXIII: Coldbath Fields and Spa Fields
 Chapter XXXIX: Hockley-In-The-Hole
 Chapter XL: Clerkenwell
 Chapter XLI: Clerkenwell-(continued)
 Chapter XLII: Smithfield
 Chapter XLIII: Smithfield and Bartholomew Fair
 Chapter XLIV: The Churches of Bartholomeu-The-Great and Bartholomew-The-Less
 Chapter XLV: St. Bartholomew's Hospital
 Chapter XLVI: Christ's Hospital
 Chapter XLVII: The Charterhouse
 Chapter XLVIII: The Charterhouse--(continued)
 Chapter XLIX: The Fleet Prison
 Chapter L: The Fleet River and Fleet Ditch
 Chapter LI: Newgate Street
 Chapter LII: Newgate
 Chapter LII: Newgate (continued)
 Chapter LIV: The Old Bailey
 Chapter LV: St. Sepulchre's and its Neighbourhood
 Chapter LVI: The Metropolitan Meat-Market
 Chapter LVII: Farringdon Street, Holborn Viaduct, and St. Andrew's Church
 Chapter LVIII: Ely Place
 Chapter LIX: Holborn, to Chancery Lane
 Chapter LX: The Northern Tributaries of Holborn
 Chapter LXI: The Holborn Inns of Court and Chancery
 Chapter LXII: The Holborn Inns of Court and Chancery (continued)