CHAPTER XIX.
PALL MALL EAST, SUFFOLK STREET, &c.
The University Club-house and the Royal College of Physicians—The Society of Painters in Water-Colours—Benjamin West's Chefs d'Œuvres—Messrs. Colnaghi's and Messrs. Graves' Print-shops—The Assassination of Thomas Thynne—Grant of Land to Edward Russeli in 1692—The
Old Horse-pond—Suffolk House—Suffolk Street—Miss Vanhomrigh and Dean Swift—Stanislaus, King of Poland—Mr. Chenevix's Toyshop—The "Cock Tavern" and Mr. Pepys—The "Calves' Head Club"—The Gallery of British Artists—Suffolk Place and "Moll Davis"—Dorset Place and Whitcomb Street—Hedge Lane—Supposed Remains of the Old Royal Mews—Oxendon Street Chapel—The Attack on
Sir John Coventry—James Street—The Royal Tennis Court—Fawkes, the Conjuror—Orange Street Chapel—Sir Isaac Newton's Residence—Panton Street—Goldsmith's and Burke's Visit to the Puppets—Hamlet, the Jeweller—Messrs. Ambroise and Brunn's Entertainments—The
Société Franeaise de Bienfaisance—A Singular Atmospheric Phenomenon—Arundell Street—Coventry Street—Coventry House—Sights and
Amusements—Messrs. Wishart's Tobacoo and Snuff Manufactory—The Kilted Highlander as a Sign for Snuff-shops.
Extending eastward from the southern end of Her
Majesty's Theatre to Trafalgar Square, and skirting
the northern end of Cockspur Street, is Pall Mall
East. Here, at the corner of Suffolk Street, stands
the United University Club-house, of which we
have already spoken (fn. 1) in our chapter on "Clubland," and also the principal front of the Royal
College of Physicians, described in the previous
volume.†
At No. 5 are the rooms of the old Society of
Painters in Water-Colours. Externally the building possesses nothing to call for special mention,
excepting, perhaps, a new and elegant doorway,
which was erected in 1875; this, alike in design
and workmanship, is worthy of the gallery to which
it gives access. The society itself originated in
1808, when its first exhibition of water-colour drawings took place. It was at first blended with that
of the Royal Academy; but in 1821 the painters in
this branch of art determined to exhibit their productions separately from other artists, and erected
the house in Pall Mall East expressly for the
purpose. The exhibition is open during the greater
part of the year, and comprises usually about 500
pictures of various kinds, among which, as might
be expected, landscapes generally predominate.
This society has always limited the exhibition
entirely to its own members; but the body of artists
showed a gradual and steady increase.
Here, in the year 1819, were exhibited the chefs
d'æuvres of Benjamin West, President of the Royal
Academy, including his "Christ rejected by the
Jews," and "Death on the White Horse." The
former contains nearly two hundred figures, in their
appropriate costumes, all these displaying some
passion of grief, pity, astonishment, revenge, exultation, or total apathy. The principal figures of
Christ, the High Priest, Pilate, and many others,
taken as single objects, are scarcely to be equalled
in the entire compass of art. It is enriched with a
splendid frame, carved after the model of the gate
of the Temple of Theseus at Athens.
From its central position, Pall Mall East has
always been a favourite locality in the world of
art; and the two old-established shops for the
sale of prints and engravings—that of Messrs.
Colnaghi, adjoining the College of Physicians, and
of Messrs. Graves, close by the Royal Opera
Arcade—have tended to keep up its reputation in
this respect. At No. 9, on the north side of the
street, are the offices of the Palestine Exploration
Fund, to which Biblical scholars are so largely
indebted for bringing to light many objects in
Jerusalem and elsewhere, which throw light on
the narrative of the Holy Scriptures, as well as
on the manners and customs of the Jewish
people two thousand years ago.
Nearly opposite the south-west corner of what is
now the Opera House, on Sunday, February 12th,
1681, Mr. Thomas Thynne was "most barbarously
shot with a musketoon in his coach, and died next
day." The instigator of this crime, as we have
already related in describing Thynne's monument
in Westminster Abbey, (fn. 3) was Count Köningsmark,
who was in hopes of gaining the hand of the rich
heiress, Lady Elizabeth Ogle, to whom Thynne
was either already married or else contracted.
The sentiment of Köningsmark on this occasion furnishes a curious insight into the ideas as to
violence current in the days of the early Stuarts.
We learn from the "State Trials" that he "allowed
that the assassination of Mr. Thynne by his bravoes
was a stain on his blood, but only such a one as
a good action in the wars . . . would easily wash
out!" Three of the ruffians whom he hired to do
the deed were tried at the Old Bailey, found guilty,
and hanged on the spot whereon the murder was
committed. The cowardly villain, the Count himself, however, escaped the just punishment of his
crime, getting off by securing the favour of a
corrupt jury. Strangely enough, the jury who
acquitted the real and principal agent, condemned
the actual perpetrator of the deed, Colonel Vrats,
who was hung, and, being of good family in
Holland, was allowed to have his body embalmed
and carried thither; so Evelyn, at least, tells us in
his "Diary."
Two parcels of waste ground—no doubt, a part
of the old site of the Royal Mews, containing
about three acres, bounded on the east by the
once rural Hedge Lane, by the Haymarket on the
west, and by Cockspur Street on the south, including Suffolk and Little Suffolk Streets—were
granted by the Crown, in 1692, to Edward Russell,
no fine being taken "on account of the eminent
services" of the grantee. It may be added, in
excuse for the grant, that in the good old days
before George III. was king, when Leicester
Square was Leicester Field—a "dirty place where
ragged boys used to assemble to play at chucks"—between the bottom of the Haymarket and "the
King's Mews" there was a horse-pond, where
stray horses were taken to water, and in which
pickpockets were ducked when caught in the act.
Mr. Peter Cunningham considers that in early
times there was a town mansion of the Earls of
Suffolk on the site of what is now Suffolk Street;
and quotes, in support of his views, the commencement of the ballad of Suckling, already given above
on page 219. The Suffolks, however, subsequently
became possessed of what was afterwards Northumberland, but was for a time called Suffolk, House,
at Charing Cross, when they removed to their new
quarters.
In this street, which now consists almost entirely
of modern houses, and has been transformed partly
into Pall Mall East, and partly into Dorset Place,
formerly resided the unhappy Miss Vanhomrigh,
the poor "Vanessa" of Dean Swift, a lady who
died of a broken heart through her unfortunate
attachment to the Dean. The witty Dean, when
in London on the affairs of the Irish Church,
made the acquaintance of this young lady and her
mother, the widow of a Dutch merchant, and
became so constant a visitor at their house, as to
leave there "his best gown and cassock for convenience." As he was a man of middle age, while
she was not twenty, it was thought quite a matter
of course that he should direct her studies; but
this direction of her reading soon ripened into
quite another affair, and it was only when Miss
Vanhomrigh's affections were deeply and irrevocably engaged that she discovered, on following the
Dean back to Ireland, that he had a wife living—his "Stella." This discovery was shortly afterwards
followed by the young lady's death.
THE COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS.
While the melancholy fate of Miss Vanhomrigh
was the common topic of conversation in London
circles, and while every one was reading the Dean's
"Cadenus and Vanessa," somebody is said to have
remarked to Mrs. Swift, or rather to Mrs. Johnson—for she was always known by the latter, and never by
the former name—that surely "Vanessa" must have
been an extraordinary woman to have inspired the
Dean to write such fine verses upon her. "That's
not at all clear," said the lady, offended with and
yet proud of her husband, and hurt besides in her
own vanity, "for it is very well known that the
Dean could write finely upon a broomstick."
Malcolm tells us that the last and most unfortunate King of Poland, Stanislaus Augustus, lodged,
in 1754, in Suffolk Street, at the house of a Mr.
Cropenhole. We also learn incidentally that "over
against Suffolk Street, Charing Cross," in the reign
of George II., was the celebrated toy-shop of Mr.
Chenevix, where tickets for most of the West-end
"shows" and exhibitions were sold.
In Suffolk Street was an old hostelry, the "Cock,"
much praised by Samuel Pepys, who thus writes,
under date March 15, 1669: "Mr. Hewes and I
did walk to the Cocke, at the end of Suffolk Street,
where I never was (before): a great ordinary
mightily cried up, and there bespoke a pullet;
which, while dressing, he and I walked into St.
James's Park, and thence back, and dined very
handsome, with a good soup and a pullet for 4s. 6d.
the whole." It would appear that on the whole
the diarist was well pleased with the accommoda
tion; for in less than a month afterwards he took
his wife and some other friends thither, where they
were "mighty merry," the house being "famous for
good meat, and particularly for pease-porridge."
THE OLD TENNIS COURT, NEAR THE HAYMARKET.
A tavern in this street—possibly the "Cock,"
already mentioned—appears to have been at one
time the head-quarters of the famous, or rather
infamous, "Calves' Head Club," established by
the Puritans and Roundheads in ridicule of the
memory of Charles I. At all events, here, on one
occasion, was held one of the meetings of this
club, which, in the year 1735, produced a serious
riot. At this meeting it is said by tradition that a
bleeding calf's head, wrapped in an old napkin, was
thrown out of the window into the street below,
while the members of the club inside were drinking
the pious toast of confusion to the Stuart race!
Lord Middlesex, however, who was one of those
present on the occasion, denies the truth of this
indictment in a letter to Mr. Spence, which is
published in "Spence's Anecdotes." In this letter
he says that there happened to be a bonfire of
straw made by some boys in the street under the
windows, and that some of the company, "wiser or
soberer than the rest," proposed drinking some
loyal and popular toasts to the mob outside, and
that the only toasts drank by the members were
the King, the Queen, the Royal Family, the Protestant Succession, Liberty and Property, and the
present Administration. Stones were then flung,
the windows of the tavern were broken, and a
regular row ensued, which was only suppressed by
the arrival, an hour later, of "the justice, attended
by a strong body of guards, who dispersed the
populace."
The author of the "Secret History of the Calves'
Head Club, or the Republicans Unmasked" (supposed to be "Ned Ward," of alehouse memory),
ascribes the origin of this association to Milton
and other partisans of the Commonwealth, who, in
opposition to Bishop Juxon, Bishop Sanderson, and
other loyalists, used to meet together on the 30th
of every January, having compiled for their own
use a form of prayer for the day, not very unlike
that which was till lately to be found in the Book
of Common Prayer. "After the Restoration," observes the writer of this pamphlet, "the eyes of
the Government being on the whole party, they
were obliged to meet with a great deal of precaution; but in the reign of King William they met
almost in a public manner, apprehending no danger.
. . . They kept in no fixed house, but moved
about from place to place, as they thought convenient." The place where they met when his
informant was present was in a blind alley near
Moorfields, where "an axe was hung up in the clubroom, and was reverenced as a principal symbol in
this diabolical sacrament. Their bill of fare was a
large dish of calves heads, dressed in several ways,
by which they represented the king, and his friends
who had suffered in his cause; a large pike with a
smaller one in his mouth, as an emblem of tyranny;
a large cod's head, by which they intended to represent the person of the king singly; a boar's head
with an apple in his mouth, to represent the king as
bestial, as by their other hieroglyphics they had
made him out to be foolish and tyrannical. After
the repast was over, one of their elders presented
an 'Icon Basilicé,' which was with great solemnity
burnt on the table, whilst anthems were being sung.
After this, another produced Milton's 'Defensio
Populi Anglicani,' upon which all present laid their
hands, and made a protestation in form of an oath
ever to stand by and maintain the same. After the
table-cloth was removed, the anniversary anthem,
as they impiously called it, was sung, and a calf's
skull, filled with wine or other liquor, and then a
brimmer, went about to the pious (?) memory of
those worthy patriots who had 'killed the tyrant,'
and relieved their country from his arbitrary sway;
and lastly, a collection was made for the mercenary
scribbler [probably meaning John Milton], to
which every man contributed according to his zeal
for the cause and the ability of his purse. The
company consisted only of Anabaptists and Independents; and the famous Jeremy White—formerly
chaplain to Oliver Cromwell, who, no doubt, came
to sanctify with his pious exhortations the ribaldry
of the day—said grace before and after dinner."
"Although no great reliance," says Wilson, in his
"Life of Defoe," "is to be placed upon the faithfulness of Ward's narrative, yet in the frighted mind
of a high-flying Churchman, continually haunted by
such scenes, the caricature would easily pass for a
likeness. It is probable, therefore, that the above
account must not be accepted without many grains
of salt to qualify it. The name and idea of the club
is sufficiently disgusting, and a lasting dishonour,
not to the murdered king, but to its founders."
At the corner of Suffolk Street and Pall Mall
East is the Gallery of British Artists. The building, which was completed in 1824, is entered by a
Doric portico, designed by Mr. Nash, and consists
of a suite of six octagonal galleries, all on one floor,
and lighted from above, designed by Mr. James
Elmes.
In consequence of the limited size of the rooms
at Somerset House, where the Royal Academy
held its exhibitions, the Society of British Artists
was instituted in 1823 for the annual display of
the works of living artists in the various branches
of painting, sculpture, architecture, and engraving.
The fund raised for the erection of the building,
&c., was by donations and subscriptions, which were
divided into eight classes, and admissions awarded
in accordance with the amount given or subscribed.
In a notice of the building printed in the Mirror,
in 1824, it is stated that it was "intended as a
building for the reception of ancient models, casts,
&c., and students; the ground storey is occupied
by a portico of the Grecian Doric, having coupled
antæ, the proportions, apparently, from the Temple
of Theseus, at Athens; the upper storey is a continuation of the antæ throughout the front; in the
centre is a window with a pediment, frieze, architrave, &c., from the Temple of Erectheus, at Athens,
ornamented with pateræ, as are also the antæ; the
ornaments are of terra cotta, the whole surmounted
by a bold cornice."
Suffolk Place, leading to Suffolk Street, is mentioned by Strype as consisting of handsome
houses. They do not, however, appear to have
been aristocratically tenanted. At all events, here
lived the notorious "Moll Davis," in a mansion
which Charles II. had furnished expensively for
her—an arrangement of which even Pepys speaks
as "a most infinite shame;" she kept also, as he
tells us, "a mighty pretty fine coach."
Running up northwards from Pall Mall East, in
the rear of Suffolk Street, are Dorset Place and
Whitcomb Street, its continuation, which leads
towards Coventry Street. This follows the course
of the old "Hedge Lane," which, till about 1830,
commemorated the once rural character of the
neighbourhood of the Haymarket and Leicester
Fields.
It is related of Steele, Budgell, and Phillips, that
one evening, when they were coming out of a
tavern or coffee-house in Gerrard Street, they were
warned that there were some suspicious characters
waiting to waylay any stray foot-passengers in
Hedge Lane. "Thank ye," said the wits, and each
hurried off home by a different way.
Hedge Lane is marked in the map of Ralph
Aggas, temp. Elizabeth, and was, even in the days
of Charles II., what the name implied—a lane
running into the fields, and bordered by hedges.
The Duke of Monmouth is said to have lived here
before taking up his abode in Soho, where we have
already seen him located. According to Mr. Peter
Cunningham, Maurice Lowe, the painter, was also
a resident of this lane. It was still called Hedge
Lane in the days of Dr. Johnson, of whom Boswell
tells us that, in April, 1778, on his way to dine at
the West-end, he got out of the hackney-coach at
the bottom of Hedge Lane in order to leave a
letter containing charitable aid for a "poor man in
distress," probably a hungry author.
The Royal Mews, already mentioned, in the
reign of Henry VIII., as standing near the bottom
of the lane, was burnt in 1534, and some remains
(or what were supposed to be remains) of its charred
walls were discovered in 1821.
Oxendon Street, which runs parallel to the Haymarket, from north to south, about half way
between it and Leicester Square, contains, on its
western side, a Nonconformist chapel, to which a
history is attached. It was built by no less a
man than that "prince of Independents," Richard
Baxter, "adjoining the wall of the house of Mr.
Secretary Coventry," to whom Baxter's principles
were so unpalatable that it is said he caused the
soldiers to beat drums under the chapel windows
to drown the preacher's voice. The Secretary was
so far successful in this outrageous conduct that he
forced Baxter to give up the chapel, which afterwards became a chapel-of-ease to the parish in
which it stood. The following curious notice
respecting it will be found in the Spectator, under
date November 30, 1711: "This is to give notice
to all promoters of the holy worship, and to all
lovers of the Italian tongue, that on Sunday next,
being the 2nd of December, at five in the afternoon, in Oxendon Chapel, near the Haymarket,
there will be divine service in the Italian tongue,
and will continue every Sunday at the aforesaid
hour, with an Italian sermon, preached by Mr.
Casotti, Italian minister, author of a new method
of teaching the Italian tongue to ladies," &c.
Malcolm, in his "Londinium Redivivum," after
quoting the advertisement, adds a waggish remark,
to the effect that the chapel is still (1807) in use,
though "not for the above purpose of teaching the
Italian language." We learn that the chapel, after
serving as a "tabernacle" or chapel-of-ease to St.
Martin's-in-the-Fields, passed into the hands of the
"Scottish Secession."
It was in this street that Sir John Coventry was
living at the time of the attack made on him in the
Haymarket, as noticed in the preceding chapter.
It appears that Sir John had been supping with
some friends at the Cock Tavern in Bow Street,
and was, at the time, on his way home. A motion
had recently been made in the House of Commons
to lay a tax on playhouses. The Court opposed
the motion. The players, it was said (by Sir John
Birkenhead), were the king's servants, and a part of
his pleasure. Coventry asked, "Whither did the
king's pleasure lie, among the men or the women
that acted?" perhaps recollecting more particularly
the king's visit to Moll Davis in Suffolk Street,
where Charles had furnished a house for her, provided her with "a mighty pretty fine coach," and
given her a ring of £700, "which," says the page
(like Pepys), "is a most infinite shame." The
king determined to leave a mark upon Sir John
Coventry for his freedom of remark, and he was
marked on his way home. "He stood up to the
wall," says Burnet, "and snatched the flambeau
out of the servant's hands; and with that in one
hand, and the sword in the other, he defended
himself so well, that he got more credit by it than
by all the actions of his life. He wounded some
of them, but was soon disarmed, and "they cut his
nose to the bone, to teach him to remember what
respect he owed to the king." Burnet adds, that
"his nose was so well sewed up, that the scar was
scarcely to be discerned."
Eastward from the Haymarket, a little north of
the theatre, stretches James Street, on the south side
of which is a building which was till lately occupied
by the Royal Tennis Court. Tennis, if we may
trust old writers, derives its name from the French
Hand-ball or Palm-play, and was played in London
as far back as the sixteenth century, in covered courts
erected for that special purpose. Henry VII. and
Henry VIII. were both fond of tennis; the latter
added a tennis-court to his palace at Whitehall.
James I., we know, recommended tennis to his
son as a game well becoming the dignity of a
prince. Charles II. was an accomplished master
of the game, and had a particular dress which he
wore when playing it here. Timbs tells us that
there was another tennis-court not far off, in Windmill Street, belonging to and attached to Piccadilly
Hall. He also mentions "one called Gibbons's
in Clare Market, where Killigrew's comedians
sometimes performed," and others in Holborn,
Blackfriars, and Southwark, where there were (and
possibly still are) small thoroughfares still bearing
the name of Tennis Courts. The court in James
Street, it may be added, was one of the favourite
haunts of Charles II. It was closed about the
year 1863, and has lately been converted into a
storehouse for military clothing.
In this street, in the reign of George II., the
conjuror Fawkes used to locate his "show" in the
intervals between the various London and suburban
fairs, at which he put in his appearance, anticipating
the tricks of Colonel Stodare of our own time.
The eastern end of James Street is continued by
Orange Street—so called after the Prince of Orange,
William III.—which is crossed by St. Martin's
Street, running northwards into the centre of the
south side of Leicester Square. The corner of
Orange and St. Martin's Street is occupied by a
Nonconformist chapel. Next to the chapel stands
a house which is still visited by pilgrims from all
parts of the world, as having been the last London
residence of Sir Isaac Newton. He removed hither
in 1710 from Jermyn Street, but did not die here, as
is erroneously said by Dr. Burney in an anecdote
related to Boswell, and mentioned in his "Life of
Johnson." The house is now an hotel; on its roof
was till lately a small observatory built by a subsequent tenant, but often supposed to have been
Newton's own. The house had subsequently as its
tenants Dr. Burney and his daughter Frances, who
here composed her once (and still) popular novel,
"Evelina." Frances Burney (Madame D'Arblay)
dates from this house many of the letters published
in her diaries; and Mr. Henry Thrale—Johnson's
friend and host—writing to Miss Burney, playfully styles the inmates of the house his "dear
Newtonians."
Panton Street, which forms one of the connecting
links between the Haymarket and Leicester Square,
was so called after its ground landlord, Colonel
Panton, of whom we have spoken in the preceding
chapter as having won his money at the card-table,
and refusing to touch a card again. It has been
said, though erroneously, that the street received
its name from a kind of horse-shoe called a panton;
but the derivation was long accepted on account
of its immediate proximity to the Haymarket,
where horses must constantly have required the
farrier's art.
Forster tells us in his "Life of Goldsmith" that
poor Oliver and Edmund Burke once paid a visit to
some very ingenious puppets exhibited here. Burke
praised in particular the dexterity of one puppet,
who tossed a pike with military precision. "Psha!"
remarked Goldsmith, with some warmth, "I could
do it better myself." Boswell adds that Goldsmith
afterwards went home to supper with Burke, and
broke his shin by attempting to show the company
how much better he could jump over a stick than
the puppets.
In a large room in Panton Street, Messrs.
Ambroise and Brunn gave a "variety entertainment," consisting of "Ombres Chinoises," "danses
de caractère," and sundry "metamorphoses" by a
veritable magician; this being patronised by the
Court, the price of admission was raised to five
shillings. This same room was occupied, in a
subsequent season, by the conjuror Breslau.
It is, perhaps, worth noting that Hamlet, the
great jeweller of the time of the Regency, who had
nearly all the aristocracy on his books, and of
whom we have already spoken in our notice of
Cranbourn Alley, Leicester Square, at one time
had his business in Panton Street. He made a
colossal fortune, but afterwards hastening to be rich
in excess, he lost it through unfortunate speculations.
At No. 5 in this street was established, in 1842,
a charitable institution, entitled the Société
Française de Bienfaisance, for the relief of the
distressed French in London. Its chief operations
consist in giving temporary help in money and
bread to numerous French artisans out of work.
Before quitting Panton Street, we may add, on
the authority of Hughson's "London," that in the
afternoon of the 9th of June, 1803, a most singular
phenomenon happened here. He writes: "The
inhabitants were alarmed by a violent and tremendous storm of rain and hail, which extended
only to Oxendon Street, Whitcomb Street, Coventry
Street, and the Haymarket, a space not exceeding
200 acres. For about seven minutes the torrent
from the heavens was so great that it could only
be compared to a cataract rushing over the brow
of a precipice. In the midst of the hurricane an
electric cloud descended in Panton Street, which
struck the centre of the coachway, and sunk in to
a great depth, forming a complete pit, in which
not a vestige of the materials which had before
occupied the space could be found. The sulphurous odour from the cloud was so powerful
that for several seconds the persons near the spot
were almost suffocated. No further damage was
done, except filling the neighbouring kitchens and
cellars with water, which soon escaped through the
gulf formed by the electric fluid."
Arundell Street, which leads from Panton Square
to Coventry Street,
preserves the memory of its original
ground landlord,
Lord Arundell of
Wardour; but the
freehold has long
since passed away
from the family.
WISHART'S SHOP-CARD.
Coventry Street
derived its name
from Mr. Henry
Coventry, Secretary
of State in the reign
of Charles II., whose
private mansion
stood on its south
side, with a garden
wall running down
behind what now is
the west side of
Oxendon Street. In
the London Gazette
for July—August,
1674, is an advertisement offering a
reward for the recovery of a white,
long-haired landspaniel, lost between
London and Barnet,
on application to
"the porter at Mr. Secretary Coventry's house
in Pickadilly." Coventry House, according to
Pennant, stood on the site of a building called in
the old plans of London "The Gaming House."
The Secretary, it may be added, died here in
1686, and was buried in the church of St. Martin's
in-the-Fields. Coventry Street was continued eastwards beyond Leicester Square into St. Martin's
Lane about the year 1842; the compensation paid
to the freeholder of the ground, the Marquis of
Salisbury, exceeded £70,000.
Like the rest of this neighbourhood, Coventry
Street in its time has had its places of amusement.
At one of these, in 1835, was exhibited the "Parisian
infernal machine." This extraordinary exhibition
comprised a likeness of the murderer Gerard (alias
Fieschi), before and after the perpetration of his
crime, attempting to assassinate the French king
and his sons; also a model of the room and of
the infernal machinery, taken from drawings made
on the spot by distinguished artists, sent to Paris
expressly for that purpose. The advertisements
announcing this place of entertainment state that
"Ladies may visit
this exhibition,
where the most
serupulous attention
has been observed
not to wound the
most fastidious delicacy."
In 1851, one of
the most popular
exhibitions, perhaps, was that of a
French wizard,
named Robin, whose
performance took
place in a building
at the end of Coventry Street.
One of the oldest
establishments in
Coventry Street is
the tobacco and
snuff manufactory
of Messrs, Wishart.
The "card" of the
firm a century and
a half ago, and still
used, is a curiosity
in its way. A facsimile of it is here
given.
Mr. J. Larwood
humorously remarks in his "History of Sign-boards,"
"Since the Highlander's love of snuff and whisky
was such, that he wished to have a Ben Lomond of
the former and a Loch Lomond of the latter, nobody
could make a better public-house sign than the
'Highland Laddie,' nor a better sign for a snuffshop than the kilted Highlander, who generally
stands guard at the door of these establishments."
The following skit appeared shortly after the
Rebellion of 1745, when every effort was made to
suppress the nationality of the Scotch, down to
their ballads and their kilts:—"We hear that the
dapper wooden Highlanders who so heroically
guard the doors of snuff-shops intend to petition
the Legislature in order that they may be excused
from complying with the Act of Parliament with
respect to the change of dress, alleging that they
have ever been faithful subjects to his Majesty,
having constantly supplied his guards with a pinch
out of their mulls when they marched by; and so
far from engaging in any rebellion, they have never
entertained a rebellious thought: whence they
humbly hope that they shall not be put to the
expense of buying new clothes."
SIR ISAAC NEWTON'S HOUSE.
The "Two Heads" in this street was, in 1760,
the sign of an advertising dentist, who thus makes
known his profession in the London Evening Post:
"Ye beauties, beaux, ye pleaders at the bar,
Wives, husbands, lovers, every one beside
Who'd have their heads deficient rectify'd,
The dentist famed, who by just application
Excels each other operator in the nation,
In Coventry's known street, near Leicester Fields,
At the 'Two Heads,' full satisfaction yields.
Teeth artificial he fixes so secure,
That as our own they usefully endure;
Not merely outside show and ornament.
But every property of teeth intent;
To eat as well as speak, and form support
To falling checks and stumps from further hurt.
Nor is he daunted when the whole is gone,
But by an art peculiar to him known,
He'll so supply, you'll think you've got your own.
He scales, he cleans, he draws; in pain gives case,
Nor in each operation doth fail to please.
Doth the foul scurvy fierce your gums assault?
In this he also rectifies the fault
By a fam'd tincture. And his powder, nam'd
A Dentifrice, is also justly fam'd.
Used as directed, 'tis excellent to serve
Both teeth and gums—cleanse, strengthen, and preserve.
Foul mouth and stinking breath can ne'er be lov'd;
But by his aid these evils are remov'd."
In this street, towards the close of the last
century, if the tradition runs aright, there was
a famous fish-shop which numbered Sir Joshua
Reynolds (who lived hard by in Leicester Square)
among its daily customers. The great painter
would generally stroll so far before breakfast,
examine the fish that lay on the leads, turn them
over and reverse their position; then, having
chosen what was to his taste, he would go back to
breakfast, report the state of the fish-market, and
send his sister to effect the purchase. "Miss
Reynolds," the old fishmonger used to say, "never
chose; Sir Joshua never paid; and both were good
hands at driving bargains."