CHAPTER VI.
SOUTHWARK (continued).—HIGH STREET, &c.
"Brevis est via."—Virgil, "Eclogues."
The Southwark Entrance to London Bridge—The Town Hall—Southwark Fair—Union Hall—Dr. Elliotson—Mint Street—Suffolk House—Lant Street—Charles Dickens's Home when a Boy—The Mint—Great Suffolk Street—The "Moon-rakers"—The Last Barber-surgeon—Winchester Hall—Finch's Grotto Gardens—The Old Workhouse of Southwark—King's Bench Prison—Major Hanger, Dr. Syntax, Haydon,
and George Moreland, Inmates of the King's Bench—The "Marshal" of the King's Bench—Alsager's Bleaching-ground—Blackman
Street—Sir James South—Eliza Cook—Kent Street—A Disreputable Neighbourhood—The Lock Hospital—A Hard-working Philanthropist—St. George's Church—The Burial-place of Bishop Bonner—Marriage of General Monk and Nan Clarges—The Marshalsea—Anecdotes of
Bishop Bonner—Colonel Culpeper—Dickens's Reminiscences of the Marshalsea—The Sign of "The Hand"—Commercial Aspect of
Southwark—Sanitary Condition of Southwark—Appearance of Southwark in the Seventeenth Century.
The Borough, High Street, as we have already
shown, serving for many centuries as the entrance
into London from Surrey and Kent, and, indeed,
from the Continent, has always been a very important thoroughfare of the metropolis; but, as a
pleasant, gossiping writer of modern times, Mr.
Miller, has truthfully observed in his "Picturesque
Sketches"—"What a different feature does the
Southwark entrance to London Bridge present to
what it did only a few brief years ago! Every
few minutes omnibuses are now thundering to
and from the railway terminus; while passengers
think no more of journeying to Brighton and
back, and remaining eight or ten hours there,
on a long summer's day, than they formerly did of
travelling to Greenwich; for it took the old, slow
stage-wagons as long to traverse the five miles to
the latter as our iron-footed steed to drag the five
hundred passengers at his heels, and land them
within sight of the wide, refreshing sea."
Starting from St. Saviour's Church, and passing
under the railway bridge which spans the road,
we now make our way southward. The alterations
made in the High Street, when Southwark Street
was planned and formed, involved the demolition
of the Town Hall. This building stood at the
angle formed by the High Street and Compter
Street, and dated its erection from the close of
the last century, when it was built in place of an
older edifice, which had become ruinous. The
old Town Hall, in its turn, too, occupied the
place of a still older hall, having been rebuilt in
the reign of Charles II. After the union of the
parish of St. Margaret-at-Hill with that of St.
Saviour's, the old church of the former parish was
desecrated, being used partly as a prison, and
partly as a court of justice. The building was
destroyed in the fire of 1676. A statue of the
king was placed in front of the building by which
it was succeeded; and on the base of the pediment
was an inscription notifying the "re-edification,"
with the date 1686. On one side of the statue
were the arms of London; and on the other, those
of Southwark. On the occasion of the rebuilding
of the hall in 1793, the statue of the king, instead
of being replaced in its original situation, was sold,
and set up in a neighbouring court called Three
Crown Court, upon a pedestal of brickwork, the
inside of which, strange to say, was made to serve
as a watch-box for a "Charley." At the same
time, a figure of Justice, which had formerly, in
conjunction with one of Wisdom, supported the
Lord Mayor's seat in the Town Hall, was placed
near the bar of a neighbouring coffee-house. On
this event, the following jeu d'esprit is preserved in
Concanen and Morgan's "History of the Parish of
St. Mary Overy:"—
"Justice and Charles have left the hill,
The City claimed their place;
Justice resides at Dick West's still;
But mark poor Charles's case:
Justice, safe from wind and weather,
Keeps the tavern score;
But Charley, turned out altogether,
Keeps the watch-house door."
After remaining for some time in Three Crown
Court, the poor unfortunate monarch, we believe,
found a resting-place in the shady nook of a garden
in the New Kent Road. The prison, or compter,
as it was called, was removed to Mill Lane, Tooley
Street, but has since been demolished.
The new Town Hall was a very plain and unpretending structure. It consisted of a rusticated
basement, from which rose four Ionic pilasters.
The windows were arched, and the interior was
fitted up as a police-office. The police-court was
eventually removed further southward, to Blackman
Street. In front of the Town Hall, facing Blackman Street, the hustings for the election of representatives for the borough were usually erected.
The Town Hall has been occasionally used for
criminal trials. Thus we read that on the 23rd of
June, 1746, eight of the judges went in procession
from Serjeants' Inn to the Town Hall on St. Margaret's Hill, and opened the special commission
for the trial of the prisoners concerned in the
rebellion in Scotland. Those prisoners who were
found guilty and received sentence of death were
soon afterwards hung, drawn, and quartered on
Kennington Common. Between their trial and
execution the prisoners were confined in the new
gaol, Southwark.
On St. Margaret's Hill, in the immediate neighbourhood of the Town Hall, Southwark Fair was
formerly held. This fair, afterwards so famous,
was established by virtue of a charter from King
Edward VI., dated 1550. The charter cost the
good citizens of London nearly £650—a large
sum at that period—and the fair itself was to
be held on the 7th, 8th, and 9th of September. It
was one of the three great fairs of special importance, described in a proclamation of Charles I.,
"unto which there is usually extraordinary resort
out of all parts of the kingdom." The fairs here
referred to, according to Rymer, were "Bartholomew Fair, in Smithfield; Sturbridge Fair, in Cambridge; and Our Lady Fair, in the borough of
Southwark." It was opened in great state by the
Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, who rode over London
Bridge, and so on to Newington, thence back
to the Bridge House, where, of course, was a
banquet. "The 'hood-bearer' on this occasion,"
writes John Timbs, "wore a fine embroidered cap,
said to have been presented to the City by a
monastery in 1473."
Allusions to the fair are frequent enough in the
old writers; but it is most familiar to us through
Hogarth's picture of "Southwark Fair." In his
time the fair lasted fourteen days, and extended
from St. Margaret's Hill, the spot where it was
originally held (near the Town Hall), to the Mint;
and of course the visitors comprised a considerable
portion of the inhabitants of that favoured locality.
In Hogarth's plate—a copy of which we reproduce on page 55—we see Figg, the prize-fighter,
with plastered head, riding on a miserable nag;
Cadman, a celebrated rope-dancer, is represented
flying by a rope from the tower of St. George's
Church to that part of the Mint which lies in the
rear of the houses opposite. The portrait of
another famous rope-dancer, Violante, is introduced
by Hogarth. From the steeple of the church
of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, soon after its completion, this slack-rope performer descended, head
foremost, on a rope stretched across St. Martin's
Lane to the Royal Mews, in the presence of the
princesses and a host of noble personages. Besides
these characters, Hogarth shows us a beautiful
woman beating a drum, attended by a black boy
with a trumpet; a booth tumbling down, and the
name of the piece to be performed, the Fall of
Bagdad, is inscribed on the tottering paper lantern.
Tamerlane, in full armour, is being taken into
custody by a bum-bailiff; and in the background
are shows with enormous placards announcing the
Royal Wax-work, the horse of Troy, and the wonderful performances of Bankes and his horse. If
the company frequenting the fair was of a strange
sort, the entertainments offered appear to have
been of a suitable character. From old advertisements of the fair, of dates between 1730 and 1740,
we learn that at Lee and Harper's great booth
was performed a thrilling tragedy called Bateman,
or the Unhappy Marriage; but, lest the audience
should be too much affected, it was lightened by
the Comical Humours of Sparrow, Pumpkin, and
Sheer going to the Wars. There appears to have
been as great a taste for burlesque as that which
now exists; but the subjects were curiously chosen.
We have the rudiments of a modern pantomime
in The Fall of Phaëton, interspersed with comic
scenes between Punch, Harlequin, Scaramouch,
Pierrot and Columbine, "which," we are told, "the
town has lately been in expectation to see performed." The performers, it should be remembered,
were not wretched show-folk, but the regular actors
of the large theatres, who regularly established
booths at Bartholomew's and Southwark Fairs, in
which the most charming actresses and accomplished actors thought it no disgrace to appear in
the miserable trash mentioned above. In the
biography of "Jo Miller," we read that the sound
of Smithfield revelry had but just died away, to be
caught up, as if in echo, by Southwark, when the
Daily Post, having shed a tearful paragraph upon
the opening sepulchre of "Matt Prior," proceedeth
to tell how that "Mr. Doggett, the famous player,
is likewise dead, having made a standing provision
annually for a coat and badge, to be rowed for
by six watermen on the 1st of August, being
the day of His Majesty's happy accession to the
Throne." This was on the 23rd of September,
1721. Two days afterwards we read, "Yesterday
the remains of Mr. Dogget were interred at Eltham,
in Kent." So far the humble player—now for the
courtier poet. "The same evening the remains of
Matthew Prior, Esquire, were carried to the Jerusalem Chamber, and splendidly interred in Westminster Abbey." When "Jo" received the news
of Doggett's death, we have not the smallest doubt
that he was too much overcome to go on with
the part he was playing at Southwark Fair; and
having that day divided the profits of the Smithfield
speculation with Pinkey and Jubilee Dickey, he
assiduously mourned his departed master at the
"Angel Tavern," which then stood next door to
the King's Bench.
Besides the theatrical entertainments, Faux's
sleight of hand and the mechanical tricks and
dexterity of Dr. Pinchbeck were for many years
favourite adjuncts of Southwark Fair.
John Evelyn in his "Diary," under date 13th
September, 1660, says, "I saw in Southwark, at
St. Margaret's Faire, monkies and asses dance and
do other feates of activity on ye tight rope; they
were gallantly clad à la mode, went upright, saluted
the company, bowing and pulling off their hatts;
they saluted one another with as good a grace as
if instructed by a dancing-master. They turned
heels over head with a basket having eggs in it,
without breaking any; also with lighted candles
in their hands and on their heads, without extinguishing them, and with vessells of water, without
spilling a drop. I also saw an Italian wench
daunce and performe all the tricks on ye tight rope
to admiration; all the Court went to see her.
Likewise here was a man who tooke up a piece
of iron cannon of about 400 lb. weight, with the
haire of his head onely."
From Pepys's own quaint and amusing description, too, we glean some further particulars of the
entertainments provided here. On the 21st of September, 1668, he writes: "To Southwark Fair, very
dirty, and there saw the puppet-show of Whittington,
which is pretty to see; and how that idle thing do
work upon people that see it, and even myself
too! And thence to Jacob Hall's dancing on the
ropes, where I saw such action as I never saw
before, and mightily worth seeing; and here took
acquaintance with a fellow who carried me to a
tavern, whither came the music of this booth, and
by-and-by Jacob Hall himself, with whom I had
a mind to speak, whether he ever had any mischief
by falls in his time. He told me, 'Yes, many,
but never to the breaking of a limb.' He seems a
mighty strong man. So giving them a bottle or
two of wine, I away."
In the reign of George II. the fairs of London
were in the zenith of their fame. Mr. Frost observes in his "Old Showmen:"—"During the
second quarter of the eighteenth century they were
resorted to by all classes of the people, even by
royalty; and the theatrical booths which formed
part of them boasted of the best talent in the
profession. Not only were they regarded as the
nurseries of histrionic ability, as the provincial
theatres came afterwards to be regarded; but they
witnessed the efforts to please of the best actors
of the London theatres when in the noon of their
success and popularity. Cibber, Quin, Macklin,
Woodward, Shuter, did not disdain to appear before
a Bartholomew Fair audience, nor Fielding to
furnish them with the early gushings of his humour.
The inimitable Hogarth made the light of his
peculiar genius shine upon them, and the memories
of the 'Old Showman' are preserved in more than
one of his pictures."Southwark Fair was not
finally suppressed till 1763. The booth-keepers
used to collect money for the relief of the prisoners
in the Marshalsea.
In the registers of the parish of St. Margaret's
occurs the following curious entry, under date
1451–2: "Recd. in dawnsing [dancing] money of
the Maydens, iiis. viijd." To what this may refer,
whether to any religious ceremony or public procession, it is at this distant period difficult to tell.
At the east end of Union Street, close by St.
Margaret's Hill, formerly stood Union Hall. On
the opening of this street to the Borough by taking
down the "Greyhound Inn," in 1781, Union Hall
was built by subscription, for the use of the magistrates, previous to which time they sat at the "Swan
Inn," which was afterwards converted into a private
house. On the passing of the Police Act in 1830
Union Hall was made one of the Metropolitan
police offices. On the destruction of the old Town
Hall, as above mentioned, the sessions for the
county were held there, though it was not adequate
to the business till the county gaol and a sessions
house were built nearer to Newington Butts.
At No. 104 in the High Street was born Dr.
Elliotson, F.R.S., the celebrated physician. He
was the son of a chemist and druggist, whose house
bore the sign of the "Golden Key," of which a
token exists. Dr. Elliotson was a devoted student
of mesmerism and mesmeric influences, upon which
he wrote largely. Thackeray, it may be added,
was taken ill when writing "Pendennis," and was
saved from death by Dr. Elliotson, to whom, in
gratitude, he dedicated the novel when he lived to
finish it. Dr. Elliotson died in 1868.
Mint Street, opposite St. George's Church, keeps
in remembrance a mint for the coinage of money,
which was established here by Henry VIII. at
Suffolk House, the residence of his brother-in-law,
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. The mansion
was a large and stately edifice, fronting upon the
High Street. It was ornamented with turrets and
cupolas, and enriched with carved work; at the
back, the range of outbuildings formed an enclosed
court. The house was sometimes called the
"Duke's Palace," as well as Suffolk House; and it
is likewise mentioned as "Brandonne's Place, in
Southwarke," in Sir John Howard's expenses, under
the year 1465. It was exchanged by the Duke
of Suffolk with Henry VIII., the king giving him
in return the house of the Bishop of Norwich in
St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. On this exchange the
mansion took the name of Southwark Place, and a
mint was established here for the king's use.
THE MINT, SOUTHWARK, IN 1825.
Edward VI., in the second year of his reign, came
from Hampton Court and dined at this house,
where he knighted John Yorke, one of the Sheriffs
of London. He afterwards returned through the
City to Westminster. Queen Mary gave the mansion to Nicholas Heath, Archbishop of York, "and
to his successors for ever, to be their inn or lodging
for their repair to London," as a recompense for
York House, Westminster, which was taken from
Wolsey and the see of York by her royal father.
Archbishop Heath sold the premises, which
were partly pulled down, many small cottages being
built on the site. Some portion of the house which
was left became the residence of Edward Bromfield, who was Lord Mayor in 1637. He was
owner of the premises in 1650. His son John was
created a baronet in 1661, and in 1679 he was
described as "of Suffolk Place, Bart.," in the
marriage settlement with Joyce, only child of
Thomas Lant, son and heir of William Lant, a
merchant of London. This estate devolving to the
Lant family, we find that in the reign of Queen
Anne an Act was passed for the improvement of
Suffolk Place, empowering Thomas Lant to let
leases for fifty-one years. In 1773 it was advertised
to be let as seventeen acres, on which were 400
houses, with a rental of £1,000 per annum. The
entire estate was sold early in the present century,
in ninety-eight lots, the rental of the estate having
been just doubled. The family of Lant are still
kept in remembrance by Lant Street, which runs
from Blackman Street parallel with Mint Street.
A back attic at the house of an "Insolventcourt agent" belonging to the Marshalsea, in Lant
Street, was one of the temporary homes of Charles
Dickens when a boy; it was the same in which he
described Mr. Bob Sawyer as living many years
afterwards. "A bed and bedding," he writes,
"were sent over for me and made up on the floor.
The little window had a pleasant prospect of a
timber-yard; and when I took possession of my
new abode, I thought it was a Paradise." The
various members of the family of the InsolventCourt Agent are immortalised as the "Garlands"
in the "Old Curiosity Shop."
THE KING'S BENCH, SOUTHWARK, IN 1830.
The Mint is thus curiously described in the
"New View of London," published in 1708:—"It is on the west side of Blackman Street, near
against St. George's Church, and was so called for
that a sumptuous house, built by Charles Brandon,
late Duke of Suffolk, in the reign of Henry VIII.,
coming into the king's hands, was called Southwork
(sic) Place, and a mint of coinage was there kept
for the king. The inhabitants of late—like those
of the White Fryars, Savoy, &c.—have assumed to
themselves a protection from arrests for debts,
against whom a severe though just statute was
made in the 8 and 9 William and Mary, whereby
any person having moneys owing from any in these
pretended privileged places, may, upon a legal process taken out, require the Sheriffs of London and
Middlesex, the head Bailiff of the Dutchy Liberty,
or the High Sheriff of Surrey, or Bailiff of Southwork, or their deputies, to take out a posse comitatus, and arrest such persons, or take their goods
upon execution." And then follows a long list of
penalties, including the pillory, to which all persons
resisting their authority are exposed. It is added,
"Yet notwithstanding this place pretends as much
to Privilege as before, though this Act has supprest
all other (such-like) places. And these streets are
reckoned within the compass of this Mint—viz.,
Mint Street, Crooked Lane, and Bell's Rents; also
Cannon Street, Suffolk Street, St. George Street,
Queen Street, King Street, Peter Street, Harrow
Alley, Anchor Alley, and Duke Street, all in the
parish of St. George's, Southwork." The Mint, as
the district was called, consisted, therefore, of several
streets, whose inhabitants claimed the privilege of
protection from arrest for debt—a privilege which,
says the "Ambulator" (1774), "has since been suppressed by the legislature, who have lately passed
an Act for establishing a Court of Conscience here
for the better recovery of small debts."
The place had become a refuge for the worst
characters—in fact, another Alsatia, into which
few bailiffs or officers of justice dared to venture.
Felons and outlaws, debtors and vagabonds, herded
there; and to this day it is one of the plague-spots
of the metropolis. Marriages, not à la mode, like
those of Mayfair and the Fleet, were performed
here constantly, and highwaymen and burglars
found a secure retreat in its mazy courts. Mat o'
the Mint is one of Macheath's companions, and
Jonathan Wild was a frequent visitor. To poor
authors it was a more secure Grub Street; but
though duns could not enter, starvation and death
could. Here, in 1716, died Nahum Tate, once
poet laureate, and, in conjunction with Brady, the
author of that metrical version of the Psalms which
superseded Sternhold and Hopkins's psalmody in
prayer-books. Allusion is often made to the precincts of the Mint by the poets and comic writers.
The reader of Pope's satires will not forget the
lines—
"No place is sacred, not the church is free,
E'en Sunday shines no 'Sabbath Day' to me;
Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme,
Happy to catch me just at dinner-time."
Nathaniel Lee, the dramatist, lived often in the
Mint; he had frequent attacks of insanity, and at
one period of his life spent four years in Bedlam.
He wrote eleven plays, and possessed genius (as
Addison admitted) well adapted for tragedy, though
clouded by occasional rant, obscurity, and bombast.
Latterly, this ill-starred poet depended for subsistence on a small weekly allowance from the theatre.
He died in 1691 or 1692. Pope often alludes to
the Mint with scorn, and he makes mention of
Lee's existence here in the following couplet:—
"In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint,
Like Lee or Budgell, I will rhyme and print."
There are numerous allusions in old gossiping
books and pamphlets of the seventeenth century to
the customs of the Mint, the vagabond population
of which maintained their privileges with a high
hand. If a bailiff ventured to cross the boundary
of the sanctuary, he was seized and searched for
proofs of his calling; then, when the perilous documents were found, dragged by the mob from pump
to pump, and thoroughly soused. A ducking in
one of the open sewer ditches followed, and then
he was made to swear, kissing a brickbat debaubed
with filth from the cloaca, that he would never again
attempt to serve a process in the Mint. The next
step was the payment of certain fees for the purchase of gin. If he had no money in his pockets,
he was handed over to the tender mercy of the
women and boys, who gave him a few more duckings and shampooings with filthy brickbats, and
then kicked him out of the precincts.
An attempt was made to curtail the privilege of
protection afforded by the Mint in the reign of
William III., but it was not finally suppressed till
the Georgian era.
Thomas Miller, in his "Picturesque Sketches of
London," published in 1852, gives the following
description of the old Mint, which he had written
seven years previously, after visiting the remains of
this dilapidated neighbourhood:—"Stretching from
St. George's Church, in the Borough, into the high
road which leads to the cast-iron bridge of Southwark, are no end of narrow courts, winding alleys,
and ruined houses, which a bold-hearted man would
hesitate to thread after dusk. Here stand numbers
of houses which are unroofed and uninhabited.
Years ago they were doomed to be pulled down,
and it was resolved that a wide open street should
be built upon the space they now occupy. Years
may still roll on before they are removed. There
is no place like this in the suburbs of London, no
spot that looks so murderous, so melancholy, and
so miserable. Many of these houses, besides being
old, are very large and lofty. Many of these courts
stand just as they did when Cromwell sent out his
spies to hunt up and slay the Cavaliers, just as
they again were hunted in return, after the Restoration, by the Royalists, who threaded their intricacies,
with sword and pistol in hand, in search of the
fallen Roundheads. There is a smell of past ages
about these ancient courts, like that which arises
from decay—a murky closeness—as if the old winds
which blew through them in the time of the Civil
Wars had become stagnant, and all old things had
fallen and died just as they were blown together,
and left to perish. So it is now. The timber of
these old houses looks bleached and dead; and
the very brickwork seems never to have been new.
In them you find wide, hollow-sounding, decayed
staircases, that lead into great ruinous rooms, whose
echoes are only awakened by the shrieking and
running of large black-eyed rats, which eat through
the solid floors, through the wainscot, and live and
die without being startled by a human voice. From
the Southwark Bridge Road you may see the roofs
of many of these great desolate houses; they are
broken and open; and the massy oaken rafters are
exposed to the summer sun and the snow of winter.
Some of the lower floors are still inhabited; and at
the ends of these courts you will see standing, on
a fine day, such characters as you will meet with
nowhere besides in the neighbourhood of London.
Their very dress is peculiar; and they frequent the
dark and hidden public-houses which abound in
these close alleys—placed where the gas is burning
all day long. Excepting the courts behind Long
Lane, in Smithfield, we know no spot about London
like this, which yet fronts St. George's Church, in
the Borough."
"The Mint," says Charles Knight, in his "London," "was the scene of 'the life, character, and
behaviour' of Jack Sheppard; and within the
same precincts, at the 'Duke's Head,' still standing in Redcross Street, his companion in villainy,
Jonathan Wild, kept his horses. The Mint and
its vicinity has been an asylum for debtors, coiners,
and vagabonds of every kind, ever since the middle
of the sixteenth century. It is districts like these
which will always furnish the population of the
prisons, in spite of the best attempts to reform and
improve offenders by a wise, beneficent, and enlightened system of discipline, until moral efforts
of a similar nature be directed to the fountainhead of corruption. There are districts in London
whose vicious population, if changed to-day for
one of a higher and more moral class, would
inevitably be deteriorated by the physical agencies
by which they would be surrounded, and the
following generation might rival the inhabitants of
Kent Street or the Mint."
The Mint is awfully memorable in modern
annals; for amid the squalor of its narrow streets
appeared, in 1832, the first case of Asiatic cholera
in the metropolis. Again, Thomas Miller, in his
work above quoted, refers to this miserable locality
when he says, "The 'Land of Death,' in which
we dwelt, was Newington, hemmed in by Lambeth,
Southwark, Walworth, Bermondsey, and other
gloomy parishes, through which the pestilence (fn. 1)
stalked like a destroying angel in the deep shadows
of the night and the open noon of day."
In the autobiographical reminiscences of his
childhood, which are embodied in his "Life,"
by Mr. John Forster, Charles Dickens describes
the quaint old streets of "low-browed" shops
which lay between Rowland Hill's chapel in the
Blackfriars Road, and his humble lodgings in Lant
Street, mentioned above, along which he had to
pass night by night, in returning from his drudgery
at Hungerford Stairs. He tells us of the boot-lace
and hat and cap shops which he patronised, and
of another shop conspicuous for its sign of "a
golden dog licking a golden pot," over the door,
and which may still be seen at the corner of Charlotte Street, Blackfriars Road. He tells us also
how on Saturday nights he would be seduced into
the inside of show-vans containing the "Fat Pig,"
the "Wild Indian," and the "Little Dwarf Lady,"
in this immediate neighbourhood.
In the early part of the year 1877, steps were
taken by the Metropolitan Board of Works with
the view of levelling with the ground a large part
of the disreputable neighbourhood now under
notice. The areas comprised Mint Street, King
Street, and Elizabeth Place. Mint Street area included the wretched street of that name, associated
with robberies and crimes of all sorts, which leads
from the Borough to Southwark Bridge Road; and
it was further proposed to widen the new street and
Harrow Street to a minimum width of thirty feet,
and to extend Little Lant Street of the same width
into Mint Street, at a cost of over £15,000.
Great Suffolk Street, nearer "Stones' End," is
named from Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk,
who, as stated above, lived here, in Suffolk House.
This street was formerly known by the name of
"Dirty Lane," an appellation which it very well
deserved. The "Moon-rakers" is the sign of a
public-house in this street, where it has stood for
upwards of half a century. "The original of this,"
says Mr. Larwood, in his "History of Sign-boards,"
"may have been one of the stories of the 'Wise Men
of Gotham.' A party of them going out one bright
night, saw the reflection of the moon in the water;
and, after due deliberation, decided that it was a
green cheese, and so raked for it. Another version
is, that some Gothamites, passing in the night over
a bridge, saw from the parapet the moon's reflection in the river below, and took it for a green
cheese. They held a consultation as to the best
means of securing it, when it was resolved that
one should hold fast to the parapet whilst the
others hung from him hand-in-hand, so as to form
a chain to the water below, the last man to seize
the prize. When they were all in this position,
the uppermost, feeling the load heavy, and his
hold giving away, called out, 'Hallo! you below,
hold tight while I take off my hand to spit on it!'
The wise men below replied, 'All right!' upon
which he let go his hold, and they all dropped into
the water, and were drowned."
In this street lived the last barber who let blood
and drew teeth in London, the last of the barber
surgeons; he died there about 1821, as Mr. Cunningham was told by an old and intelligent hairdresser in the Strand; "To which," adds Mr. John
Timbs, in his "Autobiography," "I may add my
remembrance of his shop-window, with its heap of
drawn teeth, and the barber's pole at the door.
His name was Middleditch, and, renovare dolorem,
I have a vivid recollection of his dentistry."
At the corner of Great Suffolk Street and Southwark Bridge Road stands Winchester Hall. This
is neither more nor less than a concert-room, of
the ordinary music-hall type, and is attached to a
public-house which originally bore the sign of "The
Grapes." Close by this spot, in former times, were
some well-known pleasure-grounds. They bore the
name of Finch's Grotto Gardens, and were situated
on the west side of Southwark Bridge Road. They
were first opened as a place of public resort about
the first year of the reign of George III. Here
Suett and Nan Cuttley acted and sang, if we may
trust the statement of John Timbs, who adds that
the old Grotto House was burnt down in 1796, but
soon afterwards rebuilt, a stone being inserted in
its wall with the following inscription:—
"Here herbs did grow
And flowers sweet;
But now 'tis called
St. George's Street."
"Within my remembrance," writes Mr. John
Reynolds in his agreeable work, "Records of My
Life," "there was a place called Finch's Grotto
Gardens, a sort of minor Vauxhall, situated near
the King's Bench Prison. There was a grotto in
the middle of the garden, and an orchestra and
rotunda. The price of admission was sixpence,
and the place was much frequented by the humbler
classes." He goes on to say, as a proof of the
estimate in which the place was held, that "Tommy
Lowe, after having once been proprietor of Marylebone Gardens, and having kept his carriage, "was
absolutely reduced to the necessity of accepting an
engagement at these Grotto Gardens."
Finch's Grotto Gardens, doubtless, was one of
those suburban tea-gardens which were at one time
pretty plentiful in the outskirts of London. The
Prussian writer, D'Archenholz, in his account of
England, published towards the close of the last
century, is represented by Chambers as observing
that, "The English take a great delight in the public
gardens near the metropolis, where they assemble
and take tea together in the open air. The number
of these in the neighbourhood of the capital is
amazing, and the order, regularity, neatness, and
even elegance of them are truly admirable. They
are, however," he adds, "very rarely frequented by
people of fashion; but the middle and lower ranks
go there often, and seem much delighted with the
music of an organ which is usually played in an
adjoining building."
A large building, occupying three sides of a
quadrangle, adjoining Finch's Grotto Gardens, was
at one time the workhouse of St. Saviour's parish.
It was built at an expense of about £5,000, and
was opened in 1777. Under the new Poor Law
Act, the parish of St. Saviour's forms a union with
that of Christchurch; St. Saviour's is the larger
parish of the two.
At the south-west corner of Blackman Street,
and at the entrance to the Borough Road, stands
the large building, surrounded by a high brick
wall, formerly known as the King's (or Queen's)
Bench Prison. The original King's Bench Prison
stood on the east side of the High Street, near
the Marshalsea, and was certainly as old as the
time of Richard II. Thither Prince Hal (afterwards Henry V.) was sent by Judge Gascoigne
for endeavouring to rescue a convicted prisoner,
one of his personal attendants—that is, if we may
believe the genial old gossiper, Stow—but some
historians have repudiated the story altogether.
It is, however, mentioned by Hall, Grafton, and
Sir Thomas Elyot, a favourite of Henry VIII., in
his book called "The Governour."
In a play called Henry V., written in the time of
Elizabeth, before 1592, in the scene in which the
historical account of the violence of the prince
against the chief justice is introduced, Richard
Tarlton, a famous comedian and mimic, acts both
judge and clown. One Knell, another droll comedian of the time, acted the prince, and gave the
chief justice such a blow as felled him to the
ground, to the great diversion of the audience.
Tarlton, the judge, goes off the stage, and returns
as Tarlton, the clown: he demands the cause of
the laughter. "Oh," says one, "hadst thou been
here to have seen what a terrible blow the prince
gave the judge." "What! strike a judge!" says
the clown: "terrible indeed must it be to the
judge, when the very report of it makes my cheek
burn."
Readers of the "Uncommercial Traveller" of
Charles Dickens will not forget the glimpse that
we catch from him of the interior of the old King's
Bench Prison, and of its many inmates suffering
and dying of the "dry-rot." The prison was removed to the present situation towards the close
of the last century. Wilkes was confined here in
1768, and the mob endeavoured to rescue him.
A riot ensued, the military were called out, and
fired on the people in St. George's Fields, which
at that time extended as far as this spot. A
spectator, William Allen, was killed, and the jury
returned a verdict of "wilful murder" against the
soldier who fired the shot. The soldier was a
Scotchman, a countryman of "Jack Boot," and in
those days that was enough to condemn him. The
tomb of Allen might be seen in the old church at
Newington Butts. The King's Bench Prison was
burnt down by Lord George Gordon's rioters in
1780. It was, however, speedily rebuilt, and is
thus described by Mr. Allen, in his "History of
Surrey," 1829:—"The prison occupies an extensive area of ground; it consists of one large pile
of building, about 120 yards long. The south, or
principal front, has a pediment, under which is a
chapel. There are four pumps of spring and river
water. Here are 224 rooms, or apartments, eight
of which are called state-rooms, which are much
larger than the others. Within the walls are a
coffee-house and two public-houses; and the shops
and stalls for meat, vegetables, and necessaries of
almost every description, give the place the appearance of a public market; while the numbers of
people walking about, or engaged in various
amusements, are little calculated to impress the
stranger with an idea of distress, or even of confinement. The walls surrounding the prison are
about thirty feet high, and are surmounted by
cheveaux de frise; but the liberties, or 'rules,' as
they are called, comprehend all St. George's Fields,
one side of Blackman Street, and part of the
Borough High Street, forming an area of about
three miles in circumference. These rules are
usually purchasable after the following rate, by the
prisoners: five guineas for small debts; eight
guineas for the first hundred pounds of debt, and
about half that sum for every subsequent hundred
pounds. Day-rules, of which three may be obtained in every term, may also be purchased for
4s. 2d. for the first day, and 3s. 10d. for the others.
Every description of purchasers must give good
security to the governor, or, as he is called,
marshal. Those who buy the first-mentioned may
take up their residence anywhere within the precincts described; but the day-rules only authorised
the prisoner to go out on those days for which they
are bought. These privileges," adds the writer,
"render the King's Bench the most desirable (if
such a word may be thus applied) place of incarceration for debtors in England; hence persons
so situated frequently remove themselves to it by
habeas corpus from the most distant prisons in the
kingdom." A strict attention to the "rules," it
may be added, was very seldom enforced—a fact
so notorious, that when Lord Ellenborough, as
chief justice of the King's Bench, was once applied
to for an extension of the "rules," his lordship
gravely replied that he really could perceive no
grounds for the application, since to his certain
knowledge the rules already extended to the East
Indies! In cases of this kind, however, when
discovery took place, the marshal became answerable for the escape of the debtor. This prison
was properly a place of confinement for all cases
that could be tried in the Court of King's Bench.
"The discipline of the prison," writes Mr.
Richardson, in his "Recollections of the Last HalfCentury," "was tyrannical, yet lax, capricious and
undefined. The regulations were either enforced
with violence and suddenness, or suffered to
become a dead letter. Nobody cared much about
them; and at one time or other they were broken
by every prisoner within the walls. Occasionally
an example was made of a more than usually
refractory inmate; but the example was despised
as a warning, and operated as an incentive to
infraction. The law by which the prisoners were
kept in some sort of moral subordination emanated
from themselves, and from the necessity which
is recognised in all communities of combinations
of the weak to resist the oppressions of the strong,
a very mild administration of justice was acknowledged and enforced. The exigencies of the
system demanded dispatch and vigour. A sort of
'lynch-law' superseded the orders of the marshal.
It was the duty of that functionary to reside in
a house in the court-yard, within the outward
boundary of the prison. It was meant by the
legislature that he should be at hand to administer
justice, to attend to applications for redress, to
enforce obedience by his presence, prevent disturbance among the unruly host of his subjects,
and to carry into effect the orders which, as a
servant of the Court of King's Bench, he was
bound to see respected. It is notorious that Mr.
Jones, for many years the marshal of the prison, did
not reside. He was only in attendance on certain
days at his office, and held a sort of court of inquiry
into the state of his trust, the turnkeys and the
deputy-marshal acting as amici curiæ, and instructing him in his duties. He made, at stated times,
inspections of the prison; and in his periodical
progress was attended by his subordinates in great
state. He was a fat, jolly man, rather slow in his
movements, not very capable of detecting abuses
by his own observation, and not much assisted
in his explorations by others. It was a mere farce
to see him waddle round the prison. His visits
produced no beneficial effect: the place, somewhat
more orderly during the time of his stay, on the
moment of his departure relapsed into its normal
state of irregularity and disorder. In the halcyon
days of his authority there was no such institution
as the Court for the Relief of Insolvent Debtors.
The legislature from time to time cleared out the
over-gorged prisons by passing Acts to discharge
unfortunate insolvents, and what was called the
'Lords' Act' helped to prevent the enormous
conflux of such people. But this inefficient kind
of legislation was not what was wanted; it acted
as a temporary alleviation of the miseries and
abominations of the system, but it failed to abate
the nuisance, which may be said to have flourished
with renewed vigour from the prunings which
removed its effects. The consequence was that
the prison was crowded with persons of all classes,
ranks, callings, professions and mysteries—nobles
and ignobles, parsons, lawyers, farmers, tradesmen,
shopmen, colonels, captains, gamblers, horsedealers, publicans, butchers, &c. The wives of
many of these shared the fortunes and misfortunes
of their husbands; and scores of widows and
spinsters were amongst the majority who could not
pass the gates. It may be calculated that the
numerical strength of this strange colony amounted
to an average of eight hundred or a thousand
individuals."
THE MARSHALSEA PRISON, IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
The state of this gaol is thus described by
Smollett, about the time of its establishment in the
Borough Road; it was much in the same state
down till late in the present century:—"The
King's Bench Prison … appears like a neat little
regular town, consisting of one street, surrounded
by a very high wall, including an open piece of
ground, which may be termed a garden, where the
prisoners take the air, and amuse themselves with a
variety of diversions. Except the entrance, where
the turnkeys keep watch and ward, there is nothing
in the place that looks like a gaol, or bears the least
colour of restraint. The street is crowded with
passengers; tradesmen of all kinds here exercise
their different professions; hawkers of all sorts
are admitted to call and vend their wares, as in
any open street in London. There are butchers'
stands, chandlers' shops, a surgery, a tap-house,
well frequented, and a public kitchen, in which
provisions are dressed for all the prisoners gratis,
at the expense of the publican. Here the voice of
misery never complains, and, indeed, little else
is to be heard but the sound of mirth and jollity.
At the further end of the street, on the right hand,
is a little paved court leading to a separate building,
consisting of twelve large apartments, called staterooms, well furnished, and fitted up for the reception of the better sort of Crown prisoners; and
on the other side of the street, facing a separate
direction of ground, called the common side, is
a range of rooms occupied by prisoners of the
lowest order, who share the profits of a beggingbox, and are maintained by this practice and some
established funds of charity. We ought also to
observe that the gaol is provided with a neat
chapel, in which a clergyman, in consideration of
a certain salary, performs divine service every
Sunday."
THE MARSHALSEA IN 1800.
The Racquet Court of the Marshalsea.
Interior of the Palace Court of the Marshalsea.
John Howard, the philanthropist, found in the
King's Bench Prison a subject for deserved complaint. He describes the Gatehouse at Westminster as empty, but this as full to overflowing.
Indeed, it was so crowded in the summer of 1776,
that a prisoner paid five shillings for a separate
bed, and many who had no crown-pieces to spare
for such a luxury, lay all night in the chapel. The
debtors, with their families, amounted to a thousand, two-thirds of whom were lodged within the
prison walls, the rest "living within the rules."
Here, at the close of the last century, the
notorious George Hanger, Lord Coleraine, was
an inmate for nearly a twelvemonth. We have
already had occasion to speak of this eccentric and
unfortunate nobleman. (fn. 2) At one time he tried to
"make both ends meet" by recruiting for the East
India Company, and at another by starting as a
coal merchant. With respect to the former occupation, he tells us that he spent £500—"costs
out of pocket," as the lawyers say—in establishing
and organising agencies for recruits in all the large
towns of England, but that an end was put to this
work by various disputes among the directors in
Leadenhall Street as to the best place for recruiting barracks. The decision, wherever it placed the
depôt, threw him out of employ, robbed him of
his £500 and six years' labour, and lost him an
income of £600 a year. The result was that he was
sent to the King's Bench, and had to start afresh
with a capital of £40 in hand! No wonder that
next year he thought of trade in earnest as much
better than such precarious work. Not long before
this, Major Hanger—as he was more frequently
called—had become one of the jovial associates
of the then Prince of Wales, who made him one of
his equerries, with a salary of £300 a year, an
appointment which, together with the employment
which he undertook of raising recruits for the East
India Company, afforded him the means of living
for a time like a gentleman. His good fortune
did not, however, last long, and the major was
soon on the high road to the King's Bench, which
he entered in June, 1798. He spent about ten
months in "those blessed regions of rural retirement," as he jokingly styles his prison, possibly
remembering the lines of Lovelace—
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and peaceful take
That for a hermitage;"
and he declares that he "lived there as a gentleman
on three shillings a day." Released from prison,
he now applied for employment on active service,
but in vain; so he formed the resolution of taking
to trade, and set up at one time as a coal merchant, and at another as dealer in a powder for
the special purpose of setting razors. Specimens
of this powder he carried about in his pocket to
show to "persons of quality," whom he canvassed
for their patronage! How far he flourished in the
coal business we do not hear; but, as he mentions
a kind friend who gave him a salary sufficient to
keep the wolf from the door, in all probability
he did not make one of those gigantic fortunes
which the coal owners and coal merchants are
in the habit of realising now-a-days at the cost of
the long-suffering British householder.
In this prison were confined many of the objects
of Government prosecutions during the ministries
of Pitt, Addington, Perceval, and Lord Liverpool.
John Timbs tells us, in his "Autobiography,"
that amongst those who were living here in lodgings, "within the rules of the King's Bench," in
1822, was the indefatigable and eccentric William
Coombe, better known as "Dr. Syntax," the author
of "A Tour in Search of the Picturesque." He
wrote this to fit in with some drawings by Rowlandson; and the two combined, published by Ackerman, in the Strand, became one of the luckiest of
literary ventures. Besides the above work, Coombe
was also the author of "The Letters of a Nobleman to his Son" (generally ascribed to Lord Lyttelton), the "German Gil Blas," &c. He had travelled,
when young, as a man of fortune, on the Continent,
and had made "the grand tour," and had been a
companion of Lawrence Sterne. In middle life,
however, he ran through his fortune, and took to
literature as a profession, and among other connections he had formed one with Mr. Walter, of
the Times. Mr. Crabb Robinson tells us in his
"Diary" that "at this time, and indeed till his
death, he was an inhabitant of the King's Bench
Prison," and that "when he came to Printing
House Square it was only by virtue of a day-rule.
I believe," adds Mr. Robinson, "that Mr. Walter
offered to release him from prison by paying his
debts; but this he would not permit, as he did not
acknowledge the justice of the claim for which he
suffered imprisonment. He preferred to live upon
an allowance from Mr. Walter, and was, he said,
perfectly happy." Coombe is said to have been
the author of nearly seventy various publications,
none, however, published with his own name. He
ran through more than one fortune, and died at an
advanced age.
Poor Haydon, (fn. 3) about 1828, was an inmate of
this prison, where he painted a "Mock Election"
that was held within its walls. The picture was
purchased by George IV. for £500. Another
painter of note who was consigned to the King's
Bench was George Morland. In 1799 he was
arrested, and being allowed to live "within the
rules," instead of within the gaol itself, he took a
house in the neighbourhood, in St. George's Fields,
which soon became the haunt of all the profligates
of the prison. "In this cavern of indolence, dissipation, and misery," writes the author of "Great
Painters and their Works," "Morland reigned and
revelled. But the inevitable end was approaching.
He was struck with palsy; and when the Insolvent
Act of 1802 brought release, it was to the poor
miserable wreck—physical, intellectual, and moral—of what had once been George Morland."
In the early part of the present century, the
emoluments of the "marshal" of the King's Bench
amounted to about £3,590 a year; of which £872
arose from the sale of beer, and £2,823 from the
"rules." About the year 1840 an Act was passed
for the better regulation of this prison, by which
the practice of granting "day-rules" was abolished;
and the prison thenceforth, till its abolition as a
debtor's prison about the year 1860, was governed
according to regulations provided by one of the
secretaries of state. After the abolition of imprisonment for debt, this prison remained unoccupied for a short period. It was afterwards used
as a military prison, and about 1870 it passed into
the hands of the Convict Department.
Near the King's Bench Prison was the manufactory and bleaching-ground of Mr. Alsager, who
gave up his prosperous business in order to write
the "City Articles" for the Times, in which he
ultimately came to own a share.
Again making our way towards London Bridge,
we pass by "Stones' End" into Blackman Street,
a thoroughfare mentioned in "The Merry Man's
Resolution" published in the "Roxburgh Ballads:"
"Farewel to the Bankside,
Farewel to Blackman's Street,
Where with my bouncing lasses
I oftentimes did meet;
Farewel to Kent Street garrison,
Farewel to Horsly-down,
And all the smirking wenches
That dwell in Redriff town:
And come, love,
Stay, love,
Go along with me;
For all the world I'll forsake for thee."
In a large house, on the east side of this street,
resided for many years Mr. (afterwards Sir James)
South, the son of a chemist and druggist. While
practising medicine, South gave special attention
to astronomy. Between 1821 and 1823, from the
roof of his house, which was nearly opposite Lant
Street, he, in conjunction with Mr. (afterwards Sir)
J. F. Herschel, made some valuable observations
on 380 double and triple stars, both astronomers
being armed with what in that day were considered
powerful telescopes of five inches aperture, constructed by Tulley. A few years later South removed to Campden Hill, Kensington, where he
fitted up a telescope of larger dimensions. Of the
sale of his instruments at the last-named place we
have given an account in a former chapter. (fn. 4) He
was one of the founders of the Royal Astronomical
Society, and was knighted by William IV. in 1830.
He died in 1867.
George IV., in his last hours, expressed a desire
that Sir James should receive from the Civil List
a pension of £300 per annum, which was con
ferred by King William IV. Many years ago,
when it was thought desirable by some persons to
have a second national observatory, Sir James
South offered to build it at his own expense, and
endow it with his own magnificent instruments; but
the offer was declined by the Government. A
scientific account of Sir James South's astronomical
observations in Blackman Street, and of their
results, accompanied by an elaborate description
of the five-feet and seven-feet telescopes with which
they were made, will be found in the "Philosophical
Transactions" for 1825.
Another distinguished native of the same part of
Southwark is the gifted poetess, Eliza Cook, who
was born here in December, 1818, and who from
early womanhood has stirred the hearts of the
middle classes of Englishmen and Englishwomen
by her spirited and hearty songs as few other poets
have done. Joseph Lancaster, the educationist,
was born in Kent Street in 1778.
Until the formation of the Dover Road early
in the present century, Kent Street, commencing
eastward of St. George's Church, at the north end
of Blackman Street, was part of the great way
from Dover and the Continent to the metropolis.
This narrow thoroughfare, originally called Kentish
Street, was a wretched and profligate place. As
far back as 1633 it was described as "very long
and ill-built, chiefly inhabited by broom-men and
mumpers," and to the last it was noted for its
turners' and brush-makers' shops, and broom and
heath yards; yet some of these men rose to wealth
and position. John Evelyn tells us of one Burton,
a broom-man, who sold kitchen-stuff in Kent
Street, "whom God so blessed that he became a
very rich and a very honest man, and in the end
Sheriff of Surrey." During the plague in 1665,
Evelyn, under date of 7th September, writes:
"Came home, there perishing neere 10,000 poor
creatures weekly; however, I went all along the
City and suburbs from Kent Street to St. James's,
a dismal passage, and dangerous to see so many
coffins expos'd in the streetes, now thin of people;
the shops shut up, and all in mournful silence, as
not knowing whose turn might be next. I went to
the Duke of Albemarle for a pest-ship, to wait on
our infected men, who were not a few."
Kent Street was the route taken by Chaucer's
jolly pilgrims, of whom we shall have more to say in
the next chapter, when dealing with the "Tabard"
Inn; by the Black Prince, when he rode a modest
conqueror with the French king by his side; and
by which Jack Cade's rabble rout poured into the
metropolis, quite as intent, we may fairly suppose,
upon plunder as upon political reform. In this
street, as early as the fourteenth century, stood the
Loke, an hospital for lepers, afterwards known as
the Lock, a name still retained by the well-known
hospital in the Harrow Road, Paddington. (fn. 5) An
open stream, or rather ditch, dividing the parishes
of St. George and St. Mary, Newington, was also
called the Lock; but whether it derived its name
from the hospital, or the hospital from the stream,
is uncertain. It rose in Newington (the open
ground on its banks being called Lock's Fields,
a name which it still retains), was crossed from
early times by a bridge at the end of Kent Street,
and flowed through Bermondsey into the river.
Kent Street has borne its evil reputation to the
present day; and it is immortalised in Charles
Dickens's "Uncommercial Traveller" as "the
worst kept part of London—in a police sense, of
course—excepting the Haymarket." Smollett says,
"It would be for the honour of the kingdom to
improve the avenue to London by way of Kent
Street, which is a most disgraceful entrance to
such an opulent city. A foreigner, in passing this
beggarly and ruinous suburb, conceives such an
idea of misery and meanness, as all the wealth
and magnificence of London and Westminster are
afterwards unable to destroy. A friend of mine
who brought a Parisian from Dover in his own
post-chaise, contrived to enter Southwark when it
was dark, that his friend might not perceive the
nakedness of this quarter." Since the formation of
the Dover Road, Kent Street has been no longer
the great highway to Kent, a fearful necessity to
timid travellers; but it still retains much of its old
character, as the chosen resort of broom and brush
makers. Towards the close of the last century
this street, although the only thoroughfare from the
City to the Old Kent Road, presented a scene of
squalor and destitution unequalled even in St.
Giles's. Gipsies, thieves, and such-like characters,
were to be met with in almost every house; and
men, women, children, asses, pigs, and dogs were
often found living together in the same room.
Filled with a noble desire to do something to
instruct and improve the condition of the rising
generation in this crowded neighbourhood, Thomas
Cranfield, a hard-working tailor, then residing in
Hoxton, and formerly a corporal at the siege of
Gibraltar in 1782, resolved, if possible, to establish
a Sunday-school in Kent Street. For this purpose, in 1798, he hired a room, and at once undertook, with no other help than that given by his
wife, the education of the "wild Arabs" who came
to receive instruction in this novel manner. The
reputation borne by the neighbourhood for vice
and profligacy was in itself quite sufficient to deter
many persons with any benevolent intentions from
venturing into the street. Undaunted by the magnitude of the undertaking, for some months this
philanthropic individual and his wife, travelling
every Sunday all the way from Hoxton with three
of their children, occupied themselves with the
task they had set themselves, and with so much
success, that in a short time the fruits of their selfdenying exertions became conspicuously apparent
to others, and at last other voluntary teachers summoned up courage to undertake the same work.
Finding his labours in Kent Street rewarded with
success, and being now reinforced by additional
volunteers, Cranfield determined to open a similar
school in the Mint, close by, a locality even worse
than Kent Street. This school also succeeded,
and soon after their establishment these schools
were incorporated with the Sunday-school carried
on in Surrey Chapel, under the title of the "Southwark Sunday-school Society," the Rev. Rowland
Hill becoming the first president. Nine of these
schools still exist, and many of the children born in
Southwark within the last seventy years owed their
education and their position in after life to the
voluntary instruction given in these Sunday-schools.
A nobleman on one occasion being present at
one of these Sunday-school anniversaries at Surrey
Chapel, and being struck not only with the cleanly
appearance of the children, but with the respectability of the teachers, asked Rowland Hill what
salary the latter received for their arduous duties.
Mr. Hill gave the following reply: "It is very little
of this world's goods that they get, unless it is now
and then a flea, or another insect not quite so
nimble in its movements."
St. George's Church, at the corner of the High
Street, Borough, and of Blackman Street, is dedicated to St. George the Martyr, the patron saint of
England. The original church, which stood here,
belonged to the Priory of Bermondsey; it was a
very ancient edifice, and was dedicated to St.
George of Cappadocia. It is described in the
"New View of London," published in 1708, as "a
handsome building, the pillars, arches, and windows
being of Gothic design, and having a handsome
window about the middle of the north side of the
church, whereon were painted the arms of the
twenty-one companies of London who contributed
to the repair of this church in 1629, with the names
of the donors; the sums respectively given by
them amounting in all to £156 16s. 8d. This
edifice was sixty-nine feet long to the altar-rails,
sixty feet wide, and thirty-five feet high. The
tower, in which were eight bells, was ninety-eight
feet high."
We hear of the old church as having been given
in 1122, by Thomas Arderne, on whose ancestor
the parish had been bestowed by the Conqueror, to
the abbot and monks of Bermondsey. It is stated
in the work above mentioned that among the distinguished persons who lie buried in St. George's
Church, are Bishop Bonner, (fn. 6) who is said to have
died in 1557, in the Marshalsea Prison (a place,
as Dr. Fuller observes, the safest to secure him
from the people's fury); and the famous Mr.
Edward Cocker, a person so well skilled in all
parts of arithmetic as to have given rise to the
classic phrase, "according to Cocker." The tradition in Queen Anne's time was that Bonner's
grave was under the east window of the church,
and that Cocker, "the most eminent composer and
engraver of letters, knots, and flourishes of his
time," lay "in the passage at the west end, within
the church, near the school." Such, at all events,
was the statement of the then sexton; and, as
he died about the year 1677, in all probability the
tradition may be accepted. Cocker's fame was
chiefly made by his "Vulgar Arithmetic," published
after his death by his friend, John Hawkins, who
possibly wrote the following epigram upon him:—
"Ingenious Cocker! now to rest thou'st gone,
No art can show thee fully but thine own.
Thy vast arithmetic alone can show
The sums of thanks we for thy labours owe."
Here also was interred John Rushworth, the
author of "Historical Collections" relating to proceedings in Parliament from 1618 to 1640. Rushworth died in the King's Bench. In the graveyard of this church it was the custom to bury
prisoners who died in the King's Bench and the
Marshalsea.
In this church General George Monk, afterwards
Duke of Albemarle, was married in 1652, to Nan
Clarges, (fn. 7) the daughter of a farrier in the Strand,
and widow of another farrier named Radford or
Ratford, who had been his sempstress, and "used
to carry him linen."Mr. Henry Jessey, who subsequently became an Anti-Paedobaptist, and was
immersed by Hanserd Knollys, was, during the
Commonwealth, the minister of this church.
The old church having undergone many repairs,
and being ruinous, the parishioners applied to
Parliament, and obtained an Act to have another
church erected in its place; in consequence of
which the present edifice was begun in 1734, and
finished in about two years. The architect was
a Mr. John Price, and the expense of the building
was defrayed by a grant of £6,000 out of the
funds appropriated for building fifty new churches
in the metropolis and its vicinity. It was repaired
in 1808, at a cost of £9,000. The plan of the
building is a parallelogram, with a square tower at
the west end, surmounted by a second storey of an
octagon form, and crowned by an octangular spire,
finished with a ball and vane. The church throughout is very plain. It is built of dark red brick,
with stone dressings, in a heavy Dutch style, and
has altogether a tasteless aspect. In looking at
such a building as this, well may we exclaim in
the words of a divine of the nineteenth century,
"Ichabod! the glory of the Church has departed.
I never observe the new churches on the Surrey
side of the river without imagining that their long
bodies and short steeples look, from a distance,
like the rudders of so many sailing-barges. Where
is the grand oriel? where is the old square tower?
What have we in their stead? A common granary
casement and a shapeless spire." Pennant describes the steeple of St. George's Church as "most
awkwardly standing upon stilts." It may be added
that the large bell of this church is tolled nightly,
and is probably a relic of the curfew custom.
THE OLD "TABARD" INN, IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
About midway between St. George's Church and
London Bridge, stood in very remote times the
Marshalsea, or prison of the Court of the Knight
Marshal, in which all disputes arising between
servants of the royal household, and offences committed within the King's Court, were adjudicated
upon. Its jurisdiction extended for twelve miles
round Whitehall, the City of London excepted. It
was once of high dignity, and coeval with the
Courts of Common Law. This Marshal's, or
Palace Court, as it was afterwards called, was
removed from Southwark to Scotland Yard in
1801; it was abolished by Act of Parliament in
1849, and ceased to exist from the end of that
year. For very many years no legal business was
transacted in the Marshalsea Court, though it continued to be opened and closed with the same
legal formalities as the Palace Court, the judges
and other officers being the same in both.
In the "New View of London" we read: "The
Marshal's Court, situate or kept in the Marshalsea
Prison on the eastern side of the Burrough (sic) of
Southwark, was first intended for determining causes
or differences among the king's menial servants,
held under the Knight Marshal, whose steward is
judge of this court, and whereunto also belong four
council (sic) and six attorneys." Here follow the
names of these ten privileged gentlemen, with a
note to the effect that "none except members of
Clifford's Inn may practise in this court." In 1774
we find the Marshalsea described as "the county
gaol for felons and the Admiralty gaol for pirates."
THE OLD "TABARD" INN. (From a Sketch taken shortly before its demolition.)
We have no exact record of the first establishment of the Marshalsea prison, but we find it
casually mentioned in an account of a mob riot in
1377. A sailor belonging to the fleet commanded
by the Duke of Lancaster, Lord High Admiral,
was killed by a man of gentle blood, who was
imprisoned in the Marshalsea; but it being supposed by the sailors that powerful friends were at
work to obtain his pardon, a number of sailors
broke into the prison, murdered the offender, and
then hanged his body on the gallows, returning
afterwards to their ships with trumpets sounding.
Four years afterwards, Wat Tyler's followers seized
and murdered the marshal of the prison. Bishop
Bonner, the last Roman Catholic Bishop of London,
having been deposed by Queen Elizabeth, died (as
stated above) a prisoner in the Marshalsea, where
he had been ordered to be confined. He had
been previously imprisoned there during the reign
of Edward VI. He was buried, as we have already
seen, in St. George's Church, hard by.
"Another anecdote is told of Bishop Bonner,"
says Charles Knight, in his "London," "at the
period of his committal to the Marshalsea, which
is worth repeating here, as it shows his temper
in a more favourable light than that which the
voice of the public ascribes to him. On his way
to the prison, one called out, 'The Lord confound
or else turn thy heart!' Bonner coolly replied,
'The Lord send thee to keep thy breath to cool
thy porridge.' To another, who insulted him on
his deprivation from the episcopal rank, he could
even be witty. 'Good morrow, Bishop quondam,'
was the remark. 'Farewell, knave semper,' was
the reply." Bonner died on the 5th of September, 1569, having been a prisoner here for about
ten years. In Queen Elizabeth's time, the Marshalsea was the second in importance among the
prisons in London. Political satirists, George
Wither among them, were confined there; and,
in conjunction with the other Southwark prisons,
it was the place of durance of Udal and other
Puritan martyrs. Among other notorious inmates
was George Barnwell, who killed his uncle at
Camberwell, if we may believe the mock heroic
lines on that hero of the shop and counter in the
"Rejected Addresses."
In 1685 Colonel Culpeper was consigned to the
Marshalsea as a prisoner. John Evelyn tells the
story of his seizure, in his "Diary," under date
July 9th of the above year:—"Just as I was
coming into the lodgings at Whitehall, a little
before dinner, my Lord of Devonshire standing
very neere his Majesty's bed-chamber doore in
the lobby, came Colonel Culpeper, and in a rude
manner looking my lord in the face, asked
whether this was a time and place for excluders
to appeare. My lord at first tooke little notice
of what he said, knowing him to be a hot-headed
fellow, but he reiterated it, my lord asked Culpeper whether he meant him; he said, yes, he
meant his lordship. My lord told him he was
no excluder; the other affirming it againe, my
lord told him he lied, on which Culpeper struck
him a box on the eare, which my lord return'd,
and fell'd him. They were soone parted; Culpeper was seiz'd, and his majesty order'd him to
be carried to the Greene Cloth officer, who sent
him to the Marshalsea as he deserved."
The Marshalsea escaped Lord George Gordon's
rioters, in June, 1780, when the King's Bench,
the Borough, and Clink prisons were demolished;
but shortly afterwards it was removed nearer to
St. George's Church, where it remained until its
abolition in 1849. At that time it contained sixty
rooms and a chapel.
For a description of this prison as it was half a
century ago, the reader may as well be referred to
the "Little Dorritt" of Charles Dickens, who lays
within its precincts most of the scenes of the first
part, and several in the latter part of the second.
These scenes were drawn from life, as the elder
Dickens passed here a considerable part of his days
while his son was a lad; and here the future "Boz,"
coming to visit his selfish and indolent father,
picked up much of his practical acquaintance with
the lower grades of society and London life, which
he afterwards turned to account. "The family,"
he writes, "lived more comfortably in prison than
they had done for a long time out of it. They
were waited on still by the maid-of-all-work from
Bayham Street, the orphan girl from Chatham
workhouse, from whose sharp little worldly, yet
also kindly, ways I took my first impressions of
the Marchioness in 'The Old Curiosity Shop.'"
Most readers of Dickens's works will remember
old Mr. William Dorritt, the "father of the Marshalsea," and Amy, the "Little Mother"—the
"child of the Marshalsea."
In 1856, whilst engaged in the purchase of Gad's
Hill, Charles Dickens paid a visit to the Marshalsea, then in the course of demolition, to see what
traces were left of the prison, of which he had
received such early and vivid impressions as a boy,
and which he had been able to rebuild almost
brick by brick in "Little Dorritt," by the aid of his
wonderfully retentive memory. He writes to his
friend, John Forster, "Went to the Borough yesterday morning before going to Gad's Hill, to see if I
could find any ruins of the Marshalsea. Found a
great part of the original building, now 'Marshalsea
Place.' I found the rooms that had been in my
mind's eye in the story. … There is a room
there, still standing, that I think of taking. It is
the room through which the ever-memorable signers
of Captain Porter's petition filed off in my boyhood.
The spikes are gone, and the wall is lowered; and
any body can go out now who likes to go, and
is not bed-ridden."
Some considerable portion of the Marshalsea is
still standing, in Angel Court, on the north side
of St. George's Church; it is now used for business
purposes.
In 1663 was published a book entitled "The
Ancient Legal Course and Fundamental Constitution of the Palace-Court or Marshalsea; with the
Charges of all Proceedings there, and its present
Establishment explained, whereby it will appear of
what great authority this Court hath been in all
Times." This is a very scarce little volume, known
to few, and unmentioned by the bibliographers. At
the time of publication the Court, whose authority
was held by Fleta to be next to the High Court of
Parliament, was kept every Friday in the Court
House on St. Margaret's Hill, and might be held
in any other fit place within twelve miles of Whitehall.
In the neighbourhood of the Marshalsea prison
there was formerly an inn with a sign-board called
the "Hand." If we may trust a statement in
Tom Brown's "Amusements for the Meridian of
London," this board, whether it represented the
hand of a man or of a woman, was always regarded as an evil sign.
Southwark, it is almost needless to remark,
embraces an important manufacturing and commercial district. Along the water-side, from Bermondsey to Lambeth, there is a long succession
of wharves and warehouses, which all seem to ply
a busy trade. A considerable hat manufacture
is carried on in and around St. Saviour's parish.
Bermondsey abounds with tanners and curriers.
Southwark is also the chief place of business for
persons connected with the hop trade; and within
its limits are probably the largest vinegar-works,
and certainly one of the largest breweries in the
world. Apparently, some of the tradesmen of
"the Borough" were persons of substance in the
Middle Ages. At all events, a writer in Notes and
Queries, on the authority of Mr. W. D. Cooper, says
"that a certain Harry Baily, or Bailly, a 'hostelry
keeper' of Southwark, represented that borough
in Parliament in the reigns of Edward III. and
Richard II." Mr. Timbs confirms his identity by
an extract which he quotes from the Subsidy Roll
of 4 Richard II., A.D. 1380, in which Henry Bayliff,
"Ostyler," and Christian, his wife, are assessed at
two shillings. He adds, "We cannot read Chaucer's
description of the Host without acknowledging the
likelihood of his being a popular man among his
fellow-townsmen, and one likely to be selected for
his fitness to represent them in Parliament." As
we have shown in a previous chapter, too, coming
down to more recent times, the elder Mr. Thrale,
the founder of Barclay and Perkins's brewery, was
for some time a representative of Southwark in
the House of Commons, as also was Mr. Apsley
Pellatt, of the Falcon Glass Works.
The tradesmen of Southwark—even if some of
them have attained to opulence—are, however,
we fear, like those of most other places; and there
are, or have been, "black sheep" among them,
for in the "History of Quack Doctors" we read
that in the reign of Edward VI. one Grig, a poulterer in Surrey, was set in the pillory at Croydon,
and again in the Borough, for "cheating people
out of their money, by pretending to cure them by
charms, or by only looking at the patient."
The principles of free trade would seem to have
been almost unknown in the reign of Edward I.,
if, as stated by Maitland in his "History of London," it was ordained that "no person should go
out of the City into Southwark to buy cattle," and
the bakers of Southwark in like manner were
forbidden to trade in the City.
The Surrey side of the Thames being so low
and flat, and void of all that can act as a relief to
its monotony, was almost on that very account
predisposed to be made into a pleasure resort.
Added to this, its rents were low, on account of
the tolls upon the bridges, and hence a sufficient
number of acres to constitute a public garden were
easily obtainable, even by somewhat impecunious
speculators, and the very great success of Vauxhall
Gardens had somehow or other familiarised the
public mind with the idea that it was the "right
thing" to go across the water for pleasure, leaving
the cares of home for the north side of the river.
The sanitary arrangements of Southwark certainly were not good in the early part of the reign
of George III. Pigs and sheep were killed for the
London markets in many parts of the Borough.
"The kennels of Southwark," writes Dr. Johnson,
during his Scottish tour, with reference to this circumstance, "run blood two days in every week."
We can form a tolerably accurate notion of the
extent and appearance of Southwark at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Southward of
St. George's Church and the Mint spread St.
George's Fields, reaching nearly to the archiepiscopal palace at Lambeth, and the village of
Newington. The Kent Road was a lane between
hedgerows; and there were bishops' palaces and
parks, mansions, theatres, and pleasure-gardens
near the green banks of the river. There were
forts for the defence of the borough at the end of
Blackman Street, near the Lock Hospital, and in
St. George's Fields, where afterwards stood the
"Dog and Duck," at the eastern end of the present
Bethlehem Hospital. The old High Street of
Southwark had gabled houses and large quadrangular inns, dating from the early Norman times; and
between them and the Abbey of Bermondsey were
open spaces and streams flowing gently towards
the river. Pasture-lands, farms, and water-mills
were farther east towards Redriff (now Rotherhithe),
and Horselydown was indeed a grazing place for
horses. Now all that is changed; but it is pleasant
to think of the old days, even amid the constant
bustle and crowding at the entrance of the busiest
of London railway stations.
The journal of a London alderman, at the close
of the last century, under date of Sunday, 25th
June, 1797, thus describes the Southwark of his
day:—"I dined in the Boro' with my friend Parkinson en famille, and in the evening walked thro'
some gardens near the Kentish Road, at the
expense of one halfpenny each. We went and
saw a variety of people who had heads on their
shoulders, and eyes and legs and arms like ourselves, but in every other respect as different from
the race of mortals we meet at the West-end of the
town as a native of Bengal from a Laplander.
This observation may be applied with great truth
in a general way to the whole of the Borough and
all that therein is. Their meat is not so good,
their fish is not so good, their persons are not so
cleanly, their dress is not equal to what we meet
in the City or in Westminster; indeed, upon the
whole, they are one hundred years behindhand in
civilisation."