Old and New London, A Narrative of its History, its People and its Places. Illustrated with Numerous Engravings from the Most Authentic Sources. vol I
Thornbury, Walter
1872-78
Whitefriars.
Whitefriars.
So rich is London in legend and tradition, that even some of the spots that now appear the blankest, baldest, and most uninteresting, are really vaults of entombed anecdote and treasurehouses of old story. Whitefriars that dull, narrow, uninviting lane sloping from to the river, with gas works at its foot and mean shops on either sidewas once the centre of a district full of noblemen's mansions; but Time's harlequin wand by-and-by | |
183 | turned it into a debtors' sanctuary and thieves' paradise, and for half a century its bullies and swindlers waged a ceaseless war with their proud and rackety neighbours of the Temple. The dingy lane, now only awakened by the quick wheel of the swift newspaper cart or the ponderous tires of the sullen coal-wagon, was in olden times for ever ringing with clash of swords, the cries of quarrelsome gamblers, and the drunken songs of noisy Bobadils. |
In the reign of Edward I., a certain Sir Robert Gray, moved by qualms of conscience or honest impulse, founded on the bank of the Thames, east of the well-guarded Temple, a Carmelite convent, with broad gardens, where the white friars might stroll, and with shady nooks where they might con their missals. and Ram Alley were then part of their domain, and there they watched the river and prayed for their patrons' souls. In Courtenay, Earl of Devon, rebuilt the Whitefriars Church, and in a Bishop of Hereford added a steeple. In time, greedy hands were laid roughly on cope and chalice, and Henry VIII., seizing on the friars' domains, gave his physician--that Doctor Butts mentioned by Shakespeare--the chapter-house for a residence. Edward VI.--who, with all his promise, was as ready for such pillage as his tyrannical father-pulled down the church, and built noblemen's houses in its stead. The refectory of the convent, being preserved, afterwards became the Whitefriars Theatre. The mischievous right of sanctuary was preserved to the district, and confirmed by James I., in whose reign the slum became jocosely known as Alsatiafrom Alsace, that unhappy frontier then, and later, contended for by French and Germans-just as and that shy neighbourhood at the north-west side of used to be called the Caribbee Islands, from its countless straits and intricate thieves' passages. The outskirts of the Carmelite monastery had no doubt become disreputable at an early time, for even in Edward III.'s reign the holy friars had complained of the gross temptations of (an alley near ). Sirens and Dulcineas of all descriptions were ever apt to gather round monasteries. Whitefriars, however, even as late as Cromwell's reign, preserved a certain respectability; for here, with his supposed wife, the Dowager Countess of Kent, Selden lived and studied. | |
In the reign of James I. a strange murder was committed in Whitefriars. The cause of the crime was highly singular. In young Lord Sanquhar, a Scotch nobleman, who with others of his countrymen had followed his king to England, had an eye put out by a fencing-master of Whitefriars. The young lord--a man of a very ancient, proud, and noble Scotch family, as renowned for courage as for wit-had striven to put some affront on the fencing-master at Lord Norris's house, in Oxfordshire, wishing to render him contemptible before his patrons and assistants--a common bravado of the rash Tybalts and hot-headed Mercutios of those fiery days of the duello, when even to crack a nut too loud was enough to make your tavern neighbour draw his sword. John Turner, the master, jealous of his professional honour, challenged the tyro with dagger and rapier, and, determined to chastise his ungenerous assailant, parried all his most skilful passadoes and staccatoes, and in his turn pressed Sanquhar with his foil so hotly and boldly that he unfortunately thrust out of his eyes. The young baron, ashamed of his own rashness, and not convinced that Turner's thrust was only a slip and an accident, bore with patience several days of extreme danger. As for Turner, he displayed natural regret, and was exonerated by everybody. Some time after, Lord Sanquhar being in the court of Henry IV. of France, that chivalrous and gallant king, always courteous to strangers, seeing the patch of green taffeta, unfortunately, merely to make conversation, asked the young Scotchman how he lost his eye. Sanquhar, not willing to lose the credit of a wound, answered cannily, The king replied, thoughtlessly, and no more was said. This remark, however, awoke the viper of revenge in the young man's soul. He brooded over those words, and never ceased to dwell on the hope of some requital on his old opponent. years he remained in France, hoping that his wound might be cured, and at last, in despair of such a result, set sail for England, still brooding over revenge against the author of his cruel and, as it now appeared, irreparable misfortune. The King of Denmark, James's toss-pot father-in-law, was on a visit here at the time, and the court was very gay. The news that Lord Sanquhar heard was, that the accursed Turner was down at Greenwich Palace, fencing there in public matches before the kings. To these entertainments the young Scotchman went, and there, from some corner of a gallery, the man with a patch over his eye no doubt scowled and bit his lip at the fencing-master, as he strutted beneath, proud of his skill!and flushed with triumph. The moment the prizes were given, Sanquhar hurried below, and sought Turner up and down, through court and corridor, resolved to stab him on the spot, though even drawing a | |
184 | sword in the precincts of the palace was an offence punishable with the loss of a hand. Turner, however, at that time escaped, for Sanquhar never came across him in the throng, though he beat it as a dog beats a covert. The next day, therefore, still on his trail, Lord Sanquhar went after him. to London, seeking for him up and down , and in all the chief and taverns. The Scot could not have come to a more dangerous place than London. Some, with malicious pity, would tell him that Turner had vaunted of his skilful thrust, and the way he had punished a man who tried to publicly shame him. Others would thoughtlessly lament the spoiling of a good swordsman and a brave soldier. The mere sight of the turnings to Whitefriars would rouse the evil spirit nestling in Sanquhar's heart. Eagerly he sought for Turner, till he found he was gone down to Norris's house, in Oxfordshire--the very place where the fatal wound had been inflicted. Being thus for the time foiled, Sanquhar returned to Scotland, and for the present delayed his revenge. On his next visit to London Sanquhar, cruel and steadfast as a bloodhound, again sought for Turner. Yet the difficulty was to surprise the man, for Sanquhar was well known in all the taverns and fencing-schools of Whitefriars, and yet did not remember Turner sufficiently well to be sure of him. He therefore hired Scotchmen, who undertook his assassination; but, in spite of this, Turner somehow or other was hard to get at, and escaped his pursuers and the relentless man whose money had bought them. Business then took Sanquhar again to France, but on his return the brooding revenge, now grown to a monomania, once more burst into a flame. |
At last he hired Carlisle and Gray, Scotchmen, who were to take a lodging in Whitefriars, to discover the best way for Sanquhar himself to strike a sure, blow at the unconscious fencingmaster. These men, after some reconnoitring, assured their employer that he could not himself get at Turner, but that they would undertake to do so, to which Sanquhar assented. But Gray's heart failed him after this, and he slipped away, and Turner went again out of town, to fence at some country mansion. Upon this Carlisle, a resolute villain, came to his employer and told him with grim set face that, as Gray had deceived him and there was he would e'en have nobody but himself, and would assuredly kill Turner on his return, though it were with the loss of his own life. Irving, a Border lad, and page to Lord Sanquhar, ultimately joined Carlisle in the assassination . | |
On the , about o'clock in the evening, the murderers came to a tavern in Whitefriars, which Turner usually frequented as he returned from his fencing-school. Turner, sitting at the door with of his friends, seeing the men, saluted them, and asked them to drink. Carlisle turned to cock the pistol he had prepared, then wheeled round, and drawing the pistol from under his coat, discharged it full at the unfortunate fencing-master, and [extra_illustrations.1.184.1] the left breast. Turner had only time to cry, and fell from the ale-bench, dead. Carlisle and Irving at once fled-Carlisle to the, town, Irving towards the river; but the, latter, mistaking a court where wood was sold for the turning into an alley, was instantly run down and taken. Carlisle was caught in Scotland, Gray as he was shipping at a sea-port for Sweden; and Sanquhar himself, hearing were offered for his head, threw himself on the king's mercy by surrendering himself as an object of pity to the Archbishop of Canterbury. But no intercession could avail. It was necessary for James to show that he would not spare Scottish more than English malefactors. | |
Sanquhar was tried in Hall on the , before Mr. Justice Yelverton. Sir Francis Bacon, the Solicitor-General, did what he could to save the revengeful Scot, but it was impossible to keep him from the gallows. Robert Creighton, Lord Sanquhar, therefore, confessed himself guilty, but pleaded extenuating circumstances. He had, he said, always believed that Turner boasted he had put out his eye of set. purpose, though at the taking up the foils he (Sanquhar) had specially protested that he played as a scholar, and not as able to contend with a master in the profession. The mode of playing among scholars was always to spare the face. | |
continued the quasi-repentant murderer, he added,
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Lord Sanquhar then proceeded to deny the aspersion that he was an ill-natured fellow, ever revengeful, and delighting in blood. He confessed, however, that he was never willing to put up with a wrong, nor to pardon where he had a power to retaliate. He had never been guilty of blood till now, though he had occasion to draw his sword, both in the field and on sudden violences, where he had both given and received hurts. He allowed that, upon commission from the king to suppress wrongs done him in his own country, he had put divers of the Johnsons to death, but for that he hoped he had need neither to ask God nor man for forgiveness. He denied, on his salvation, that by the help of his countrymen he had attempted to break prison and escape. The condemned prisoner finally begged the lords to let the following circumstances move them to pity and the king to mercy:--, the indignity received from so mean a man; , that it was done willingly, for he had been informed that Turner had bragged of it after it was done; , the perpetual loss of his eye; , the want of law to give satisfaction in such a case; , the continued blemish he had received thereby. | |
The Solicitor-General (Bacon), in his speech, took the opportunity of fulsomely be praising the king after his manner. He represented the sputtering, drunken, corrupt James as almost divine, in his energy and sagacity. He had stretched forth his long arms (for kings, he said, had long arms), and taken Gray as he shipped for Sweden, Carlisle ere he was yet warm in his house in Scotland. He had prosecuted the offenders
said this gross time-server,
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Mr. Justice Yelverton, though Bacon had altogether taken the wind out of his sails, summed up in the same vein, to prove that James was a Solomon and a prophet, and would show no favouritism to Scotchmen. He held out no hope of a reprieve. he said, with ample legal verbiage, The manner of his death would be, no doubt, as he (the prisoner) would think, unbefitting to a man of his honour and blood (a baron of years' antiquity), but was fit enough for such an offender. Lord Sanquhar was then sentenced to be hung till he was dead. The populace, from whom he expected were full of pity for a man to be cut off, like Shakespeare's Claudio, in his prime, and showed great compassion. | |
On the ( Day) Lord Sanquhar was hung before Hall. On the ladder he confessed the enormity of his sins, but said that till his trial, blinded by the devil, he could not see he had done anything unfitting a man of his rank and quality, who had been trained up in the wars, and had lived the life of a soldier, standing more on points of honour than religion. e then professed that he died a Roman Catholic, and begged all Roman Catholics present to pray for him. He had long, he said, for worldly reasons, neglected the public profession of his | |
186 | faith, and he thought God was angry with him. His religion was a good religion--a saving religion --and if he had been constant to it he was verily persuaded he should never have fallen into that misery. He then prayed for the king, queen, their issue, the State of England and Scotland, and the lords of the Council and Church, after which the wearied executioner threw him from the ladder, suffering him to hang a long time to display the king's justice. The compassion and sympathy of the people present had abated directly they found he was a Roman Catholic:The same morning, very early, Carlisle and Irving were hung on gibbets in , over against the great gate of the Whitefriars. The page's gibbet was feet higher than the serving-man's, it-being the custom at that time in Scotland that, when a gentleman was hung at the same time with of meaner quality, the gentleman had the honour of the higher gibbet, feeling much aggrieved.if he had not. |
The riotous little kingdom of Whitefriars, with all its frowzy and questionable population, has been admirably drawn by [extra_illustrations.1.186.1] in his fine novel of recently so pleasantly recalled | |
to our remembrance by Mr. Andrew Halliday's dexterous dramatic adaptation. Sir Walter chooses a den of Alsatia as a sanctuary for young Nigel, after his duel with Dalgarno. At stroke of Scott's pen, the foggy, crowded streets eastward of the Temple rise before us, and are thronged with shaggy, uncombed ruffians, with greasy shoulderbelts, discoloured scarves, enormous moustaches, and torn hats. With what a Teniers' pencil the great novelist sketches the dingy precincts, with its blackguardly population:-- says the author of It is to a dilapidated tavern in the same foul neighbourhood that the gay Templar, it will be remembered, takes Nigel to be sworn in a brother of Whitefriars by drunken and knavish Duke Hildebrod, whom he finds surrounded by his councillors--a bullying Low Country soldier, a broken attorney, and a hedge parson; and it is here also, at the house of old Miser Trapbois, the young Scot so narrowly escapes death at the hands of the poor old wretch's cowardly assassins. | |
The scoundrels and cheats of Whitefriars are admirably etched by Dryden's rival, [extra_illustrations.1.188.1] . That unjustly-treated writer (for he was by no means a fool) has called of his comedies, in the Ben Jonson manner, It paints the manners of the place at the latter end of Charles II.'s reign, when the dregs of an age that was indeed full of dregs were vatted in that disreputable sanctuary east of the Temple. The the degraded clergymen who married anybody, without inquiry, for , the broken lawyers, skulking bankrupts, sullen homicides, thievish money-lenders, and gaudy courtesans, Dryden's burly rival has painted with a brush full of colour, and with a brightness, clearness, and sharpness. which are photographic in their force and truth. In his dedication, which is inscribed to that great patron of poets, the poetical Earl of Dorset, dwells on the great success of the piece, the plot of which he had cleverly from the of Terence. In the prologue, which was spoken by Mountfort, the actor, whom the infamous Lord Mohun stabbed in , the dramatist ridicules his tormenter Dryden, for his noise and bombast, and with some vigour writes-
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The moral of Shadwell's piece is the danger of severity in parents. An elder son, being bred up under restraint, turns a rakehell in Whitefriars, whilst the younger, who has had his own way, becomes in spite of a good deal more gallantry than our stricter age would pardon. The worst of it is that the worthy son is always being mistaken for the scamp, while the miserable Tony Lumpkin passes for a time as the pink of propriety. Eventually, he falls into the hands of some Alsatian tricksters. The of these, Cheatley, is a rascal who, tickets him, in his , as According to his own account, the cheat lies perdu, because his unnatural father is looking for him, to send him home into the country. Number , Shamwell, is a young man of fortune, who, ruined by Cheatley, has turned decoy-duck, and lives on a share of the spoil. His ostensible reason for concealment is that an alderman's young wife had run away with him. The rascal, Scrapeall, is a low, hypocritical moneylender, who is secretly in partnership with Cheatley. he rascal is Captain Hackman, a bullying coward, whose wife keeps lodgings, sells cherry brandy, and is of more than doubtful virtue. He had formerly been a sergeant in Flanders, but ran from his colours, dubbed himself captain, and sought refuge in the Friars from a paltry debt. his blustering scamp stands much upon his honour, and is alternately drawing his enormous sword and being tweaked by the nose. A lion in the estimation of fools, he boasts over his cups that he has whipped men through the lungs. He talks a detestable cant language, calling guineas and half-guineas Money, with him is
a good hat is to be well off is to be This consummate scoundrel teaches young country Tony Lumpkins to break windows, scour the streets, to thrash the constables, to doctor the dice, and get into all depths of low mischief. Finally, when old Sir William Belfond, the severe old country gentleman, comes to confront his son, during his disgraceful revels at the tavern, in Dogwell Court, , the scamps raise a shout of The drawers join in the tumult; the Friars, in a moment, is in an uproar; and eventually the old gentleman is chased by all the scum of Alsatia, shouting at the top of their voices, He has a narrow escape of being pulled to pieces, and emerges in , hot, bespattered, and bruised. It was no joke then to threaten the privileges of Whitefriars. | |
189 | |
Presently a horn is blown, there is a cry from to Hanging-sword Alley, from Ashen-tree Court to , of and in a moment they are with a cry of The skulking debtors scuttle into their burrows, the bullies fling down cup and can, lug out their rusty blades, and rush into the From every den and crib red-faced, bloated women hurry with fire-forks, spits, cudgels, pokers, and shovels. They're with a vengeance. Pouring into the Temple before the Templars can gather, they are about to drag old Sir William under the pump, when the worthy son comes to the rescue, and the Templars, with drawn swords, drive back the rabble, and make the porters shut the gates leading into Alsatia. Cheatley, Shamwell, and Hackman, taken prisoners, are then well drubbed and pumped on by the Templars, and the gallant captain loses half his whiskers. he moans,
says Cheatley, Cheatley threatened endless actions. Hackman swears his honour is very tender, and that this affront will cost him at least murders. As for Shamwell, he is inconsolable. he moans, as he shakes his wet hair and rubs his bruised back. When at last they have got free, they all console themselves with cherry brandy from Hackman's shop, after which the observes, somewhat in Falstaff's manner,
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Later in the play there is still another rising in Alsatia, but this time the musketeers come in force, in spite of all privileges, and the scuffle is greater than ever. Some debtors run up and down without coats, others with still more conspicuous deficiencies. Some cry, many leap from balconies, and make for the water, to escape to the Savoy or the Mint, also sanctuaries of that day. The play ends with a dignified protest, which doubtless proved thoroughly effective with the audience, against the privileges of places that harboured such knots of scoundrels. says,
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Be sure the pugnacious young Templars present all rose at that, and great was the thundering of red-heeled shoes. King William probably agreed with , for at the latter end of his reign the privilege of sanctuary was taken from Whitefriars, and the dogs were at last let in on the rats for whom they had been so long waiting. other places of refuge--the Mint:and the Savoyhow- ever, escaped a good deal longer; and there the Hackmans and Cheatleys of the day still hid their ugly faces after daylight had been let into Whitefriars and the wild days of Alsatia had ceased for ever. | |
In earlier times there had been evidently special endeavours to preserve order in Whitefriars, for in the State Paper Office there exist the following rules for the inhabitants of the sanctuary in the reign of Elizabeth :
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All traces of its former condition have long since disappeared from Whitefriars, and it is difficult indeed to believe that the dull, uninteresting region that now lies between and the Thames was once the riotous Alsatia of Scott and . | |
And now we come to , a palace, then | |
190 | a prison. The old palace of (Bridget's Well) was rebuilt upon the site of the old Tower of Montfiquet (a soldier of the Conqueror's) by Henry VIII., for the reception of Charles V. of France in . There had been a Roman fortification in the same place, and. a palace both of the Saxon and Norman kings. Henry I. partly rebuilt the palace; and in a vault with Norman billet moulding was discovered in excavating the site of a public-house in . It remained neglected till Cardinal Wolsey () came in pomp to live here. Here, in , when Henry's affection for Anne Boleyn was growing, he made her father (Thomas Boleyn, Treasurer of the King's House) Viscount Rochforde. A letter of Wolsey's, , to the Lord Admiral, is dated from and from to no less than was paid in repairs. Another letter from Wolsey, at , mentions that the house of the Lord Prior of Hospital, at , had been granted by the king for a record office. The palace must have been detestable enough to the monks, for it was to his palace of that Henry VIII. summoned the abbots and other heads of religious societies, and succeeded in squeezing out of them , the contumacious Cistercians alone yielding up . |
It was at the palace at (in ) that [extra_illustrations.1.190.1] disclosed the scruples that, after his acquaintance with [extra_illustrations.1.190.2] , troubled his sensitive conscience as to his marriage with [extra_illustrations.1.190.3] . says Lingard, condensing the old chronicles, Yet, notwithstanding he made all this parade of conscious superiority, Henry was prudent enough not by any means to refuse the aid of precaution. A rigorous search was made for arms, and all strangers, with the exception only of merchants from each nation, were ordered to leave the capital. | |
At the trial for divorce the poor queen behaved with much womanly dignity. says Hall, the chronicler, and after him Stow, [extra_illustrations.1.191.1] [extra_illustrations.1.191.2] | |
was endowed with the revenues of the Savoy. In the City companies were taxed for fitting it up ; and the next year Machyn records that a thief was hung in of the courts, and, later on, a riotous attempt was made to rescue prisoners. | |
In Mr. Lemon discovered in the State Paper Office some interesting documents relative to the imprisonment in , in (Elizabeth), of many members of the Congregational Church. Bishop Grindal, writing to Bullinger, in describes this schism, and estimates its adherents at about , but more women than men. Grindal says they held meetings and administered the sacrament in private houses, fields, and even in ships, and ordained ministers, elders, and deacons, after their own manner. The Lord Mayor, in pity, urged them to recant, but they remained firm. Several of these sufferers for conscience' sake died in prison, including Richard Fitz, their minister, and Thomas Rowland, a deacon. In the year , within months, prisoners, including many Spaniards, were sent to . | |
The [extra_illustrations.1.191.3] soon proved costly and inconvenient to the citizens, by attracting idle, abandoned, and people. In (James I.) the City erected at large granaries and coal-stores; and in the old chapel was enlarged. In the Great Fire ( years after the Restoration) the buildings were nearly all destroyed, and the old castellated river-side mansion of Elizabeth's time was rebuilt in quadrangles, the chief of which fronted the (now a sewer under the centre of ). We have already given on page a view of as it appeared previous to the Great Fire; and the [extra_illustrations.1.191.5] given on page in the present number shows its appearance after it was rebuilt. Within the present century, Mr. Timbs says, the committee-rooms, chapel, and prisons were rebuilt, and the whole formed a large quadrangle, with an entrance from , the keystone of the arch being sculptured with the head of Edward VI. stone bridge over the Fleet was painted by Hayman, Hogarth's friend, and engraved by Grignon, as the frontispiece to the volume of In the burial-ground at , now the coal-yard of the City Gas Company, was buried, in , Dr. Johnson's friend poor blameless Levett. The last interment took place here, Mr. Noble says, in , and the trees, and tombstones were then carted away. The gateway into is still standing, and such portions of the building as still remain are used for the house and offices of the treasury of the Hospital property, which includes Bedlam. | |
The flogging at is described by Ward, in his 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 when women were flogged were loud and incessant. which became at length a common cry of reproach among the lower orders, to denote that a woman had been whipped in . [extra_illustrations.1.191.4] , the celebrated | |
192 | procuress of King Charles II.'s reign, died a prisoner in . She desired by to have a sermon preached at her funeral, for which the preacher was to have , but upon this express condition, that he was to say nothing but what was well of her. A preacher was with some difficulty found who undertook the task. He, after a sermon preached on the general subject of mortality, concluded with saying, (Cunningham.) |
In (Queen Anne) Hatton describes It was also a hospital for indigent persons. art-masters (decayed traders) were also lodged, and received about apprentices. The boys, after learning tailoring, weaving, flax-dressing, & c., received the freedom of the City, and donations | |
of each. Many of these boys, says Hatton, They wore a blue dress and white hats, and attended fires, with an engine belonging to the hospital. The lads at last became so turbulent, that in their special costume was abandoned. was the old cant name for , and it is so called in | |
The scene of the plate of Hogarth's finished in (George II.), is laid in . There, in a long, dilapidated, tiled shed, a row of female prisoners are beating hemp on wooden blocks, while a truculent-looking warder, with an apron on, is raising his rattan to strike a poor girl not without some remains of her youthful beauty, who seems hardly able to lift the heavy mallet, while the wretches around leeringly deride her fine apron, laced hood, and figured gown. There are degraded men among the female hemp-beaters-- an old card-sharper in laced coat and foppish wig; another who stands with his hands in a pillory, on which is inscribed the admonitory legend, A cocked hat and a dilapidated hoop hang on the wall. | |
193 | |
That excellent man, [extra_illustrations.1.193.1] , [extra_illustrations.1.193.2] visiting in , gives it a bad name, in his book on He describes the rooms as offensive, and the prisoners only receiving a penny loaf a day each. The steward received eightpence a day for each prisoner, and a hemp-dresser, paid a salary of , had the profit of the culprits' labour. For bedding the prisoners had fresh straw given them once a month. It was the only where either straw or bedding was allowed. No out-door exercise was permitted. In the year there had been confined in prisoners. | |
In , Pennant describes as still having arches and octagonal towers of the old | |
| palace remaining, and a magnificent flight of ancient stairs leading to the court of justice. In the next room, where the whipping-stocks were, tradition says sentence of divorce was pronounced against Katherine of Arragon. | |
says Pennant,
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A writer in () gives a very bad account of . says the writer,
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Latterly was used as a receptacle for vagrants, and as a temporary lodging for paupers on their way to their respective parishes. The prisoners sentenced to hard labour were put on a treadmill which ground corn. The other prisoners picked junk. The women cleaned the prison, picked junk, and mended the linen. In , there was built adjoining Bedlam a House of Occupation for young prisoners. It was decided that from the revenue of the hospital () reformatory schools were to be built. The annual number of contumacious apprentices sent to rarely exceeded , and when Mr. Timbs visited the prison in he says he found only lad, out of the apprentices of the great City. In (says Mr. Noble) the governors refused to receive a convicted apprentice, for the very excellent reason that there was no cell to receive him. | |
The old court-room of ( by ) was a handsome wainscoted room, adorned with a great picture, erroneously attributed to Holbein, and representing Edward VI. granting the Royal Charter of Endowment to the Mayor, which now hangs over the western gallery of the hall of . It was engraved by Vertue in , and represents an event which happened years after the death of the supposed artist. Beneath this was a cartoon of the Good Samaritan, by Dadd, the young artist of promise who went mad and murdered his father, and who is now confined for life.in Broadmoor. The picture is now at Bedlan, There was a fine full-length of swarthy Charles II., by Lely, and full-lengths of George III. and Queen Charlotte, after Reynolds. There were also murky portraits of past presidents, including an equestrian portrait of Sir William Withers (I ). Tables of benefactions also adoried the walls. In this hall the governors of dined annually, each steward contributing towards the expenses, the dinner being dressed in a large kitchen below, only used for that purpose. The hall and kitchen were taken down in . | |
In the entrance corridor from (says Mr. Timbs) are the old chapel gates, of fine ironwork, originally presented by the equestrian Sir William Withers, and on the staircase is a bust of | |
195 | the venerable [extra_illustrations.1.195.2] , who died in his year. [extra_illustrations.1.195.1] |
The prison (whose inmates were sent to Holloway) was pulled down (except the hall, treasurer's house, and offices) in . | |
Dock (now Tudor and William Streets and ) was long noted for its taverns, and was a favourite landing-place for the Thames watermen. (Noble.) | |
The gas-works of Whitefriars are of great size. n Mr. Winsor, a German, lit a part of London () with gas, and in he applied for a charter. Yet, even as late as , says r. Noble, the inquest-men of St. Dunstan's, full of the vulgar prejudice of the day, prosecuted William Sturt, of , , for continuing for months past by reason whereof and divers noisome and offensive stinks and smells and vapours he causes the houses and dwellings near to be unhealthy, for which said nuisance William Knight, the occupier, was indicted at the sessions. as we have seen in a previous chapter, underwent the same persecution. Yet Knight went on boldly committing his harmless misdemeanour, and even so far, in the next year (), as to start a company and build gas-works on the river's bank at Whitefriars. Gas spoke for itself, and its brilliancy could not be gainsaid. Times have changed. There are now London companies, producing a rental of a million and a half, using in their manufacture tons of coal, and employing a capital of more than and a half millions. Luckily for the beauty of , these gas-works at Whitefriars, with their vast black reservoirs and all their smoke and fire, are about to be removed to Barking, miles from London. | |
The theatre in Whitefriars seems to have been built in the hall of the old Whitefriars Monastery. Mr., Collier gives the duration of this theatre as from to . A memorandum from the manuscript-book of Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels to King Charles I., notes that From entries of the Wardmote Inquests of St. Dunstan's, quoted by Mr. Noble, it appears that the Whitefriars Theatre (erected originally in the precincts of the monastery, to be out of the jurisdiction of the mayor) seems to have become disreputable in , and ruinous in , when it is mentioned that The Theatre, that took its place, was erected about , and the Earl of Dorset somewhat illegally let it for a term of years and down, Dorset House being afterwards sold for . The theatre was destroyed by the Puritan soldiers in , and not rebuilt till the Restoration. | |
At the outbreak of pleasure and vice, after the Restoration, the actors, long starved and crestfallen, brushed up their plumes and burnished their tinsel. Killigrew, that clever buffoon of the Court, opened a new theatre in in , with a play of Beaumont and Fletcher's; and [extra_illustrations.1.195.3] (supposed to be Shakespeare's illegitimate son) opened the little theatre, long disused, in , the rebuilding of which was commenced in , on the site of the granary of Salisbury House. In time Davenant migrated to the old Tennis Court, in , on the south side of , and when the Great Fire came it erased the Granary Theatre. In , on Davenant's death, the company (nominally managed by his widow) returned to the new theatre in , designed by Wren, and decorated, it is said, by Grinling Gibbons. It opened with Dryden's , which had already had a run, having been played in . On Killigrew's death, the King's and Duke's Servants united, and removed to in ; so that the Dorset Gardens Theatre only flourished for years in all. It was subsequently let to wrestlers, fencers, and other brawny and wiry performers. The engraving on page , taken from Settle's Empress of Morocco In it was used for the drawing of a penny lottery, but in , when it threatened to re-open, Queen Anne finally closed it. It was standing in (George I.), when Strype drew up the continuation of Stow, but it was shortly after turned into a timber-yard. The Company next had their offices there, and in water was ousted by fire, and the City were established in this quarter, with | |
196 | a dismal front to the bright and pleasant . |
Pepys, the indefatigable, was a frequent visitor to the Whitefriars Theatre. A few of his quaint remarks will not be. uninteresting:--
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Dryden, in his prologues, makes frequent mention of the Dorset Gardens Theatre, more especially in the address on the opening of the new , . The Whitefriars house, under Davenant, had been the to introduce regular scenery, and it prided itself on stage pomp and show. The year before, in Shadwell's opera of , the machinery was very costly, and scene, in which the spirits flew away with the wicked duke's table and viands just as the company was sitting down, had excited the town to enthusiasm. , another opera by , perhaps adapted from Moliere's Court spectacle, had succeeded the . St. Andre and his French dancers were probably engaged in Shadwell's piece. The king, whose taste and good sense the poet praises, had recommended simplicity of dress and frugality of ornament. This Dryden took care to well remember. He says:--
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Then he brings in the dictum of the king:--
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And when, in , the burnt-out company had removed to the Theatre, Dryden had said, in the same strain,-- [extra_illustrations.1.196.1] | |
In another epilogue Dryden alludes sarcastically to the death of Mr. Scroop, a young rake of fortune, who had just been run through by Sir Thomas Armstrong, a sworn friend of the Duke of Monmouth, in a quarrel at the Dorset Gardens Theatre, and died soon after. This fatal affray took place during the representation of Davenant's adaptation of | |
From Dryden's various prologues and epilogues we cull many sharply-outlined and brightcoloured pictures of the wild and riotous audiences of those evil days. We see again the in the upper boxes wooing the masked beauties, crying to the French dancers and beating cadence to the music that had stirred even the stately Court of Versailles. Again we see the scornful critics, bunched with glistening ribbons, shaking back their cascades of blonde hair, lolling contemptuously on the foremost benches, and There from rises the tipsy laugh, the prattle, and the chatter, as the dukes and lords, the wits and courtiers, practise what Dryden calls or --the diving bow being especially admired, because it-
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Nor does the poet fail to recall the affrays in the upper boxes, when some quarrelsome rake was often pinned to the wainscoat by the sword of his insulted rival. Below, at the door, the Flemish horses and | |
197 | the heavy gilded coach, lighted by flambeaux, are waiting for the noisy gallant, and will take back only his corpse. |
Of Dryden's coldly licentious comedies and ranting bombastic tragedies a few only seem to have been produced at the Dorset Gardens Theatre. Among these we may mention , , , and . was acted at the Duke's Theatre, in Dorset Gardens; because, being a satire upon a Court vice, it was deemed peculiarly calculated for that playhouse. The concourse of the citizens thither is alluded to in the prologue to . Ravenscroft, also, in his epilogue to the play of , which was acted at the same theatre, takes occasion to disown the patronage of the more dissolute courtiers, in all probability because they formed the minor part of his audience. The citizens were his great patrons. | |
In the , , there is the following notice, quoted by Smith:--
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In Dr. Davenant seems, by rather unfair tactics, to have bought off and pensioned both art and Kynaston from the King's Company, and so to have greatly weakened his rivals. Of these actors some short notice may not be uninteresting. Hart had been a Cavalier captain during the Civil Wars, and was a pupil of Robinson, the actor, who was shot down at the taking of Basing House. Hart was a tragedian who excelled in parts that required a certain heroic and chivalrous dignity. As a youth, before the Restoration, when boys played female parts, Hart was successful as the Duchess, in Shirley's . In Charles's time he played Othello, by the king's command, and rivalled Betterton's Hamlet at the other house. He created the part of Alexander, was excellent as Brutus, and terribly and vigorously wicked as en Jonson's Cataline. Rymer, says Dr. Doran, styled Hart and Mohun the Aesopus and Roscius of their time. As Amintor and Melanthus, in , they were incomparable. Pepys is loud too in his praises of Hart. His salary, was, however, at the most, a week, though he realised yearly after he became a shareholder of the theatre. Hart died in , within a year of his being bought off. | |
Kynaston, in his way, was also a celebrity. As a handsome boy he had been renowned for playing heroines, and he afterwards acquired celebrity by his dignified impersonation of kings and tyrants. Betterton, the greatest of all the Charles II actors, also played occasionally at Dorset Gardens. Pope knew him; Dryden was his friend; Kneller painted him. He was probably the greatest Hamlet that ever appeared; and Cibber sums up all eulogy of him when he says, The enchantment of his voice was such, adds the same excellent dramatic critic, that the multitude no more cared for sense in the words he spoke,
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Even when Whitefriars was at its grandest, and plumes moved about its narrow river-side streets, Dorset House was its central and most stately mansion. It was originally a mansion with gardens, belonging to a Bishop of Winchester; but about the year (Henry III.) a lease was granted by William, Abbot of , to Richard, Bishop of Sarum, at the yearly rent of , the Abbot retaining the advowson of , and promising to impart to the said bishop any needful ecclesiastical advice. It afterwards fell into the hands of the Sackvilles, held at by a long lease from the see, but was eventually alienated by the good Bishop Jewel. A grant in (James I.) confirmed the manor of to Richard, Earl of Dorset. | |
The Earl of Dorset, to whom Bishop Jewel alienated the Whitefriars House, was the father of the poet, [extra_illustrations.1.197.1] Lord High Treasurer to Queen Elizabeth. The bishop received in exchange for the famous old house a piece of land near Cricklade, in Wiltshire. The poet | |
198 | earl was that wise old statesman who began an allegorical poem of gloomy power, in which the poet intended to make all the great statesmen of England since the Conquest pass by to tell their troublous stories. He, however, only lived to write legend--that of Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham. of his finest and most Holbeinesque passages relates to old age:--
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At the Restoration, the Marquis of Newcastle, --the author of a magnificent book on horsemanship--and his pedantic wife, whom Scott has sketched so well in inhabited a part of Dorset House; but whether Great Dorset House or Little Dorset House, topographers do not record. says Mr. Peter Cunningham, quoting Lady Anne Clifford's
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Footnotes: [extra_illustrations.1.184.1] shot him near [extra_illustrations.1.186.1] Scott [extra_illustrations.1.188.1] Shadwell [extra_illustrations.1.190.1] King Henry VIII [extra_illustrations.1.190.2] Ann Boleyn [extra_illustrations.1.190.3] Katherine of Arragon [extra_illustrations.1.191.1] New Bridge Street and Obelisk 1755 [extra_illustrations.1.191.2] Bridewell Palace about 1660 [extra_illustrations.1.191.3] Bridewell [extra_illustrations.1.191.5] general bird's-eye view1720 [extra_illustrations.1.191.4] Madame Creswell [extra_illustrations.1.193.1] Howard [extra_illustrations.1.193.2] John Howard autograph [extra_illustrations.1.195.2] Chamberlain Clarke [extra_illustrations.1.195.1] Black Lion Inn, Whitefriars [extra_illustrations.1.195.3] Davenant [extra_illustrations.1.196.1] So we expect the lovers, braves, and wits; The gaudy house with scenes will serve for cits. [extra_illustrations.1.197.1] Thomas Sackville |
