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 LX: The Northern Tributaries of Holborn.
Chapter LX: The Northern Tributaries of Holborn.
In speaking of the tributary streams of human activity which flow into from the north, we shall begin a little to the east of Ely Place, and mention which has lately been improved out of existence, namely, . , extending from the foot of northward, and in this way lying parallel with Fleet Ditch, used to be an infamous haunt of the Now, its site, entered off , may be visited by the inquiring stranger with somewhat of a feeling of disappointment that respectability is not half so picturesque as its opposite. In , was vividly sketched by Charles Dickens, in his
he says,
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Northward from ran , which once formed a part of the pleasant gardens of Ely Place, and derived its name from the crops of saffron which it bore. But the saffron disappeared, and in time there grew up a squalid neighbourhood, swarming with poor people and thieves. Strype, in , describes the locality as he says, ran from into , and here we have a name recalling the vineyard of old Ely Place. Cunningham () mentions that so dangerous was this neighbourhood in his day that when the clergy of St. Andrew's, (the parish in which the purlieu lies), visited it, they had to be accompanied by policemen in plain clothes. | |
Old Chick Lane debouched into . The beginning of its destruction was in . The notorious thieves' lodging-house here, formerly the tavern, we have already noticed. It had various cunning contrivances for enabling its inmates to escape from the pursuit of justice. Fleet Ditch lay in the rear, and across it by a plank the hunted vagabonds often ran to conceal themselves in the opposite knot of courts and alleys. | |
Moving westward, we come to [extra_illustrations.2.543.1] so called after the Sir Christopher Hatton we have already met with as Lord Chancellor in Elizabeth's reign, and after
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Strype describes as
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We get a glimpse of active building operations going on here in the middle of the century, in Evelyn's -
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In Dennis's , we come upon a passage relating to an almost-forgotten poet and playwright who, on matrimonial thoughts intent, once haunted this locality. This is part of a romantic story told in Cibber's in repeating which we must begin by informing the reader that of Wycherly's most successful plays was entitled . The writer went down to Tunbridge, to take either the benefit of the waters or the diversions of the place, and when walking day upon the Wells Walk with his friend Mr. Fairbeard, of , just as he came up to the bookseller's, the Countess of Drogheda, a young widow, rich and beautiful, came to the bookseller and inquired for . says Mr. Fairbeard, pushing Mr. Wycherley towards her. says Mr. Wycherley,
said the lady;
says Mr. Fairbeard,
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The upshot of the affair was that Mr. Wycherley accompanied the countess on her walks, waited on her home, visited her daily at her lodgings, followed her to town, and, as we have seen, at brought his wooing to a successful close. | |
A gallant beginning should have a good ending. But it was not so here: the lady proved unreasonably jealous, and led the poor poet a sad life. Even from a pecuniary point of view he made a bad bargain of his marriage, for after her death her bequest to him was disputed at law, and, drowned in debt, he was immured in a gaol for years. | |
The celebrated physician, Dr. George Bate, who attended Oliver Cromwell in his last illness, died in in . He was born in at Maid's Morton, near Buckingham. He rose to great eminence in his profession, and when King Charles kept his court at Oxford, was his principal physician there. When the king's affairs declined, he removed to London, and adapted himself so well to the changed times that he became chief physician to the Lord Protector, whom he is said to have highly flattered. Upon the restoration he got into favour again with the royal party, and was made principal physician to Charles II., and Fellow of the Royal Society. This, we are told, was owing to a report, raised on very slender foundation, and asserted only by his friends, that he gave Cromwell a dose of poison which hastened his death. | |
, which intersects , is interesting as that in which Joseph Strutt, the antiquarian writer, died, on the . We have already given some particulars regarding him, when speaking of St. Andrew's Churchyard, in which he was buried. There is a publichouse of the name of the in this street. This is a sign dating from before the Reformation. It is the emblematical representa- | |
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[extra_illustrations.2.544.1] tion of the sorrowful mysteries of the Rosaryviz, the heart of the Holy Virgin pierced with swords. , adjoining the publichouse in , is immortalised by Charles Dickens in | |
, says the novelist, | |
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The next tributary to be mentioned is [extra_illustrations.2.544.2] , which runs from to . says Stow, Strype, describing it in his own time, says,
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Following northwards, we come to . It is too far removed from our main thoroughfare to be mentioned without an excuse. We make the excuse, however, for the sake of the eminent artist who breathed his last here. Here, in , died George Morland, the celebrated painter. It was in a sponging-house. He had been taken in execution by a publican, for a debt amounting, with costs, to about , and was conveyed to this place in , overwhelmed with misfortune, debt, and neglect; every evil being aggravated by the bitterness of self-reproach. | |
says his biographer,
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With regard to the works of this unfortunate and dissipated artist, justly entitled to the appellation of it is certain that they will be esteemed so long as any taste for art remains in the kingdom. Even his ordinary productions will give pleasure to all who are charmed with an accurate representation of nature. His command over the implements of his profession was very great, so great, indeed, that the use of them became to him a nature. Thus pictures flowed from his pencil with the most astonishing rapidity, and without that patience and industry which works even of inferior merit so often require. While he was in the prime of life, with a constitution unimpaired, his chief efforts were in picturesque landscape, in which every circumstance was represented with the utmost accuracy and spirit; and it is such subjects as these, to which he devoted his attention for about years, that have secured him an imperishable reputation. In such pieces, the figures he introduced were of the lowest order, but they retained a consistency appropriate to the surroundings. When, from increasing depravity of manners, | |
p.545 | he left the green woodside, and became the constant inmate of the alehouse, his subjects were of a meaner cast, for he only painted what he saw. says Mr. F. W. Blagdon,
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He was much given to mischievous amusement, and was fond of making a disturbance in the night, and alarming his neighbours. A frolic of this sort had nearly cost him dear :--Whilst living at , he, with the assistance of a drunken companion, actually broke open his own house, and enjoyed beyond description the alarm it occasioned his family, some relations being at the time with him on a visit. He was at length taken up by some persons who witnessed the transaction, when it turned out that he had apprised the watchman of his intentions, and even bribed him to assist. | |
, , is familiar enough to the general public as leading to the church of St. Alban's--a church which, for sundry reasons, has been of late somewhat prominently before the world. Few, however, of those who pass up and down its well-trodden pavement are aware of the interesting memories which belong to the neighbourhood. | |
In a lodging in Brooke Street-most probably No. -on the , the marvellous boy, Chatterton, put an end to his life by swallowing arsenic in water. The house was then No. , and in the occupation of a Mrs. Angel, a sackmaker. The poet was years and months old at the time of his death. | |
With Chatterton's career in Bristol--where he was born on the --with his rowley forgeries, with his communications with Horace Walpole, and the discovery of their spurious nature, we shall not meddle at present. But we may profitably spend a short time here in speaking of his life from the time of his arrival in the great metropolis till his sad end. Dissatisfied with Bristol, and feeling certain that in London his talent would be duly honoured, he came here about the end of . To his correspondents he boasted that he had had distinct resources to trust to: was to write, another was to turn Methodist parson, and the last was to shoot himself. The last resource, unfortunately, is in everybody's power. A friendly group saw him start; he arrived in town, and settled in lodgings in , but afterwards removed to the above-mentioned address in . For the space of months he struggled against fate, but the records we have of his doings are obscure and untrustworthy. It is true he sent flaming accounts to friends in Bristol of his rising importance; that he found money to purchase and transmit to his mother and sister useless articles of finery; and also that he did his best to form profitable connections: it may well be doubted, however, whether any large amount of success or remuneration rewarded his extraordinary efforts. | |
His literary attempts were of a political kind, and he contrived to write on both sides of the question . He also produced numerous articles of a miscellaneous kind in prose and verse. At time he seemed in a fair way for fortune, for Lord Mayor Beckford encouraged him, and accepted of the dedication of an essay; but before the essay could appear, Beckford died. He made a profit, however, on the Lord Mayor's death, and wrote down on the back of a MS., Wilkes also took notice of him, but, likely enough, he was more ready with his praise than with his money. | |
At length, work failed the unfortunate poet, and he began to starve; his literary pursuits were abandoned, and he projected to go out to Africa as a naval surgeon's mate. He had picked up some knowledge of surgery from Mr. Barrett, the historian of Bristol, and now requested that gentleman's recommendation; but he thought proper to refuse. The short remainder of his days was spent in a conflict between pride and poverty. | |
says Dix, in his
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When he was found lying on his bed, stiff and cold, on the , there were remains of arsenic between his teeth. Previous to committing suicide, he seems to have destroyed all his manuscripts; for when his room was broken open, it was found littered with little scraps of paper. | |
He was interred, after the inquest, in a pauper's | |
burial-ground, as mentioned by us already (Vol. I., p. ); but there is a story, also related by us elsewhere, to which some credit may perhaps be given, that his body was removed to Bristol, and secretly stowed away in the churchyard of St. Mary Redcliffe. says Mr. Chalmers, And so perished in destitution, obscurity, and despair, who, under happier circumstances, might have ranked among the of his generation. | |
Of the house in which the poet terminated his strange career, Mr. Hotten, in his gives some interesting reminiscences. At the date of Mr. Hotten's writing, the house was occupied by a plumber, of the name of Jefford. he says,
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The--epitaph adopted for Chatterton's monument in Bristol was written by himself; and with it we leave him, to pass on to a happier subject:--
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Philip Yorke, the great [extra_illustrations.2.548.1] (born ), was articled, without a fee, it is said, to an attorney named Salkeld, in . It was rather against the wish of his mother, who was a rigid Presbyterian. She expressed a strong wish, and sometimes she declared her ambition to be that However, an offer having been made by Mr. Salkeld, she withdrew her objections, and Philip was transferred to the metroplis, to exhibit He had received an imperfect education-his family being in narrow circumstancesand whilst applying to business here with the most extraordinary assiduity, he employed every leisure moment in endeavouring to supply the defects of his early training. says Lord Campbell, in his
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By these means he gained the entire good-will and esteem of his master, who, observing in him abilities and application that prognosticated his future eminence, entered him as a student in the Temple, and suffered him to dine in the Hall during the terms. But his mistress, a notable woman, thinking she might take some liberties with a , used frequently to send him from his business on family errands, and to fetch in little necessaries from Covent Garden and other markets. This, when he became a favourite with his master, and entrusted with his business and cash, he thought an indignity, and got rid of it by a stratagem which prevented complaints or expostulation. In his accounts with his master there frequently occurred This Mr. Salkeld observed, and urging on his wife the impropriety and ill housewifery of such a practice, put an end to it. | |
There were at that time in Mr. Salkeld's office several young gentlemen of good family and connections, who had been sent there to be initiated in the practical part of the law. With these Philip Yorke, though an articled clerk, associated on terms of perfect equality, and they had the merit of discovering and encouraging his good qualities. | |
continues Lord Campbell, In but he now bade adieu to that legal haunt, and had a commodious chamber assigned him in . And now we have started him fairly in the race for the Lord Chancellorship, the goal at which he arrived in . He held the office of Lord Chancellor for years. His reputation as a judge was very high; indeed, so great confidence was placed both in his uprightness and in his professional skill, that during the whole of his Chancellorship, riot of his decisions was set aside, and only were tried on appeal. | |
, running off , as well as itself, derives its name from Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke, Brooke House was subsequently known as Warwick House, and stood, according to Mr. Cunningham, where now stands. | |
It was in Brooke House that, on the , Lord Brooke met with his tragical fate. He had been attended for many years by Ralph Haywood, a gentleman by birth, who thought that the least his master could do for him would be to reward his long services by bequeathing him a handsome legacy. It fell out, however, that Lord Brooke not only omitted Haywood's name from his will, but unfortunately allowed him to become cognisant of the fact. Irritated at this, and, besides, at having been sharply reprimanded for some real or imaginary offence, Haywood determined to have his revenge. He entered Lord Brooke's chamber, had a violent dispute with him, and ended by stabbing him in the back. The assassin, then retreated to his own apartment, locked himself in, and committed suicide, killing himself by the same weapon with which he had stabbed his master. Lord Brooke survived only a few days. | |
Lord Brooke was born at Beauchamp Court, in Warwickshire, in , and was educated at Oxford. Upon his return to England, after a Continental tour to finish his education, he was introduced to the Court of Elizabeth by his uncle, Robert Greville. He speedily became a favourite with the Queen, though he did not fail to experience some of the capriciousness, as well as many of the delights, of royal favour. He and Sir Philip Sidney became fast friends, and when, in , the latter unfortunately closed his earthly career, he left Lord Brooke (then simply Mr. Greville) -half of his books. The reign of James I. opened happily for him. At the king's coronation he was made K.B., and an office which he held, in connection with the Council of the Court of Marches of Wales, was confirmed to him for life. In the year of James I., he obtained a grant of Warwick Castle. This seems to have gratified him exceedingly; and the castle being in a ruinous condition, he laid out in repairing it. He afterwards occupied the posts of Under-Treasurer and Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Lord of the King's Bedchamber. On the death of King James, he continued in the privy council of Charles I., in the beginning of whose reign he founded a history lecture in the University of Cambridge, and endowed it with a salary of a year. He did not long survive this last act of generosity; for though he was a munificent patron of learning and learned men, he at last fell a victim to the extraordinary outrage, as we have seen, of a discontented domestic. | |
He was the author of several works; but it is for his generosity to more successful authors than himself that he is chiefly to be remembered. says Chalmers, His kindness to Sir William Davenant must also be mentioned. | |
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[extra_illustrations.2.550.1] He took a fancy to that poet when he was very young, and received him into his family, and it is quite likely that the plan of the earlier plays of Davenant was formed in Brooke House; they were published shortly after Lord Brooke's death. | |
is the last northern tributary we have to mention. It derives its name, as might naturally enough conclude, from the adjacent inn of court. says Stow,
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To the novel-reader will be always interesting. Tom Jones entered the great metropolis by its narrow, dingy thoroughfare, on his way to put up at the in . Jones, as well as Partridge, his companion, says Fielding,
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It was there he hoped to find Sophia Western, but --the unquiet sleep that lovers have. | |
We can picture to ourselves the excitement with which Fielding's hero and his companion rode down . They had, an hour or before, had an adventure with a highwayman, an adventure told by the novelist in his chapter on and which we shall repeat here for the benefit of those who, though perhaps on nodding acquaintance with the have not yet had leisure to listen to all his long history. | |
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They parted, and Jones and Partridge rode on towards London, conversing of highwaymen. Jones threw out some satirical jokes on his companion's cowardice; but Partridge gave expression to a new philosophy:-- said he,
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Among the famous residents in were Hampden and Pym. It was here that they held their consultations, when the matter of the ship-money was pleaded in the Star-Chamber. | |
poets are also to be mentioned in connection with the lane. The of these is James Shirley, the poet and dramatist. This once wellknown writer was educated at College, Oxford, and was destined for the Church. Archbishop Laud advised him against carrying out the design, the reason being, according to Shirley's biographer, that the archbishop, who was a rigid observer of the canons of the Church, had noticed that the future poet had a large mole on of his cheeks. Notwithstanding this, however, Shirley eventually took orders, and obtained a curacy near St. Albans. He would have been better to have remained as he was, for his religious opinions became unsettled, and leaving the Church of England, he soon went over to Rome. After trying to maintain himself by teaching, he made his way to London, took up his abode in , and became a writer for the stage. | |
Happily, he lived in a golden age for dramatic genius. Charles I. appreciated him, and invited him to court, and Queen Henrietta Maria conferred on him an appointment in her household. But soon the Civil War broke out. The poet then bade adieu to wife and children, and accompanied the Duke of Newcastle in his campaigns. On the failure of the king's cause he returned to London, ruined and desponding. His patron had perished on the scaffold, and his occupation as a play- Wright was being denounced from every pulpit in the land. He did the most sensible thing possible in the circumstances--he resumed his occupation of schoolmaster. His success was considerable; and he showed his attention to his profession by publishing several works on grammar. | |
After a time came the Restoration, and with it the revival of his plays, but it brought no long career of prosperity to the poet. His death was remarkable. His house, which was at that time in , was burned to the ground in the Great Fire of , and he was forced, with his wife, to retreat to the suburbs, where the fright and loss so affected them both, that they died within some hours of each other, and were buried in the same grave. | |
The poet to be noticed is John Ogilby, whom the late Mr. Jesse terms but whom Mr. Chalmers characterises by the juster | |
p.552 | terms of and He was in his youth bound apprentice to a dancing-master in . In this line of life he soon made money enough to purchase his discharge from his apprenticeship. His talents as a dancer led to his introduction at court; but unluckily, at a masque given by the Duke of Buckingham, in executing a caper, he fell, and so severely sprained of the sinews of his leg as to be incapacitated from such lively exhibitions for the future. He had, however, a resource still left for him, as he continued to teach dancing. After a time he became author by profession, and wrote, translated, and edited all the, rest of his days. Towards the close of his career he was appointed cosmographer and geographic printer to Charles II. |
The and last poet is the Rev. John Langhorne, known to every school-boy and girl for his lines beginning- His favourite haunt was the in this lane, a house celebrated in the last century for its Burton ale. It is a pity that Langhorne was too fond of the pleasant beverage: over-indulgence in it is said to have hastened his end. Chalmers certainly suggests a lame excuse for his tippling habits--that he had twice lost his wife. Langhorne deserves remembrance, if for nothing else than the excellent translation of Plutarch's which he executed in company with his brother William, and which has become so universally popular. To judge from his writings, he was a man of an amiable disposition, a friend to religion and morality; and, though a wit, we never find him descending to grossness or indelicacy. He was born in , and died on the . | |
Numerous indeed are the spots in about which some memory hovers, or concerning which some good anecdote might be unearthed. Towards the close of the eighteenth century there was a public-house in this lane called the but the lion being the work of an artist who had not given very deep study to the personal appearance of the monarch of beasts, the establishment was commonly spoken of by its humorous frequenters as the It bore no good character. A Mr. Francis head, in giving evidence, in , before a Committee of the , appointed to inquire into the state of education of the people of England and Wales, said,
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Walking up , the turning comes to on the right is Fox Court. There is nothing attractive about its outward appearance, but, like nearly every nook and corner of old London, it has its own story to tell. says Mr. Jesse,
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The life of Savage was a singular , and, as narrated by his intimate friend, Dr. Johnson, has attracted great interest from all classes of readers. After undergoing experiences of the strangest diversity, at time living in the most lavish luxury, at another on the brink of starvation; a successful poet to-day, and standing in the felon's dock on a charge of murder to-morrow, he died in , in the debtors' prison at Bristol, exhibiting, as Johnson observes, with characteristic solemnity of antithesis, a lamentable proof that
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Fox Court opens into , and Mr. Cunningham points out this strange coincidence between the career of Savage, and that of the equally unfortunate Chatterton:
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Footnotes: [extra_illustrations.2.543.1] Hatton Garden [extra_illustrations.2.544.1] Old Houses-Leather Lane [extra_illustrations.2.544.2] Leather Lane [extra_illustrations.2.548.1] Lord Chancellor Hardwicke [extra_illustrations.2.550.1] Carriage Repository |