CHAPTER XXVIII.
BLACKFRIARS ROAD.—THE SURREY THEATRE, SURREY CHAPEL, &c.
Formation of Blackfriars Road—The Surrey Theatre, originally the "Royal Circus and Equestrian Philharmonic Academy"—The Circus burnt
down in 1805—The Amphitheatre rebuilt, and under the Management of Elliston—The Manager in a Fix—The Theatre burnt down
in 1865, and rebuilt the same year—Lord Camelford and a Drunken Naval Lieutenant—The "Equestrian" Tavern—A Favourite Locality
for Actors—An Incident in Charles Dickens' Boyhood—The Temperance Hall—The South London Working Men's College—The South
London Tramway Company—The Mission College of St. Alphege—Nelson Square—The "Dog's Head in the Pot"—Surrey Chapel—The
Rev. Rowland Hill—Almshouses founded by him—Paris Garden—Christ Church—Stamford Street—The Unitarian Chapel—Messrs.
Clowes' Printing Office—Hospital for Diseases of the Skin—The "Haunted Houses" of Stamford Street—Ashton Lever's Museum—The
Rotunda—The Albion Mills.
This great thoroughfare—which, starting at Blackfriars Bridge, meets at the Obelisk five other roads
in St. George's Circus—assumed something like
its present shape and appearance in the last half
of the last century. It seems at one time to have
been called St. George's Road, but was long known
as Great Surrey Street. The road is perfectly
straight, and is about two-thirds of a mile in length.
Pennant, as we have already remarked, describes
the roads crossing St. George's Fields as being "the
wonder of foreigners approaching by this road to
our capital, through avenues of lamps, of magnificent breadth and goodness." One foreign ambassador, indeed, thought London was illuminated
in honour of his arrival; but, adds Pennant, "this
was written before the shameful adulteration of
the oil," which dimmed the "glorious splendour!"
Pennant, doubtless, was a knowing man; but he
lived before the age of gas, and was easily satisfied.
One of the earliest buildings of any note which
were erected in this road was Christ Church, near
the bridge on the west side, occupying part of
the site of old Paris Garden; then came Rowland Hill's Chapel, or, as it is now generally called,
"Surrey Chapel," of both of which we shall speak
more fully presently. Next came the Magdalen
Hospital, which we have already described; and
finally, the Surrey Theatre. The early history of
this theatre, if Mr. E. L. Blanchard states correctly
the facts in his sketch of it, the "Playgoer's Portfolio," affords an illustration of the difficulties
under which the minor theatres laboured in their
struggle against the patented monopoly of Drury
Lane and Covent Garden. The place was first
opened under the title of the "Royal Circus and
Equestrian Philharmonic Academy," in the year
1782, by the famous composer and song-writer,
Charles Dibdin, aided by Charles Hughes, a clever
equestrian performer. It was originally planned
for the display of equestrian and dramatic entertainments, on a plan similar to that pursued with
so much success at Astley's. The entertainments
were at first performed by children, the design
being to render the circus a nursery for actors.
The play-bills of the first few months' performances
end with a notice to the effect that a "Horse-patrol
is provided from Bridge to Bridge." The theatre,
however, having been opened without a licence, was
closed by order of the Surrey magistrates, but this
was not done without a disturbance, and until the
Riot Act had been read on the very stage itself.
In the following year a licence was obtained, and
the theatre being re-opened, a successful harvest
appeared now in prospect, when differences arose
among the proprietors which seriously threatened its
ruin. Delphini, a celebrated buffo, was appointed
manager in 1788, in succession to Grimaldi, the
grandfather of the celebrated clown of Covent
Garden and Sadler's Wells Theatres; he produced
a splendid spectacle, with a real stag-hunt, &c.
Then there were several "dog-pieces," so called
because they were put together in order to introduce upon the stage as actors two knowing dogs,
"Gelert" and "Victor," whose popularity was such
that they had an hour every day set apart for
them to receive visitors. Afterwards a series of
"Lectures on Heads" were given here by a Mr.
Stevens, (fn. 1) and many pantomimic and local pieces
were performed with indifferent success; among
the latter were the "Destruction of the Bastile,"
"Death of General Wolfe," &c. The popularity of
the theatre was largely increased by the skill of
a new stage manager, John Palmer, a gay-hearted
comedian, who rather enjoyed than otherwise a
life "within the Rules of the King's Bench;" but
this gleam of sunshine came to an end, in 1789,
by the arbitrary and (it would seem) illegal committal of Palmer to the Surrey Gaol as a "rogue
and a vagabond," a clause being, at the same time,
inserted in the Debtor's Act making all such places
of amusement "out of the Rules."
Having been conducted for several years by a
Mr. James Jones and his son-in-law, John Cross,
as lessees, with average success, the Circus was
destroyed by fire in August, 1805; it was, however, rebuilt and re-opened at Easter, 1806. In
1809 the lesseeship was taken in hand by Elliston,
who introduced several of Shakespeare's plays, and
otherwise endeavoured to raise the character of the
house. His success was such that he now resolved
to attempt an enlargement of the privileges of his
licence, a step which is thus recorded by Mr. E. L.
Blanchard: "Hitherto the performances authorised
did not permit the introduction of a dialogue,
except it was accompanied by music throughout.
On the 5th of March, 1810, Sir Thomas Turton
presented to the House of Commons a petition for
enabling Mr. Elliston and his colleagues to exhibit
'all such entertainments of music and action as
are commonly called pantomimes and ballets,
together with operatic or musical pieces, accompanied with dialogue.' The petition, however, was
rejected, on the ground that it would 'go far to
alter the whole principle upon which theatrical
entertainments are at present regulated within the
metropolis and twenty miles round.' The expenses
of this fruitless appeal were £100 for the petition,
and £30 more for a second application to the
Privy Council."
The amphitheatre, which had previously been
the arena for occasional equestrian exercises, was
now converted into a commodious pit for the spectators, and the stables into saloons. Melo-dramas
now became the order of the day; and here Miss
Sally Brook made her first appearance in London.
All sorts of varieties followed. One piece was
brought out specially to exhibit two magnificent
suits of armour of the fourteenth century, which
afterwards appeared in the Lord Mayor's show. (fn. 2)
Tom Dibdin, in 1816, having offered his services
as stage-manager under Elliston, the Circus was
extensively altered and re-opened as "The Surrey,"
and he held sway here till 1822. After that time the
theatre had a somewhat chequered existence, and
on the whole may be said to have been one of the
chief homes of the English sensational melo-drama.
At one time the gig in which Thurtell drove, and
the table on which he supped, when he murdered
Mr. Weare, were exhibited; and at another, the
chief attraction was a man-ape, Mons. Goufflé. In
1827 Elliston became lessee a second time, and
made several good hits, being seconded by such
actors as T. P. Cooke, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, &c.
It was perhaps during the lesseeship of Elliston
that the greatest "hit" was made at "The Surrey."
"Elliston," as a writer in the Monthly Magazine tells
us, "was, in his day, the Napoleon of Drury Lane,
but, like the conqueror of Austerlitz, he suffered
his declensions, and the Surrey became to him a St.
Helena. However, once an eagle always an eagle;
and Robert William was no less aquiline in the day
of adversity than in his palmy time of patent prosperity. He was born to carry things with a high
hand, and he but fulfilled his destiny. The anecdote
we are about to relate is one of the ten thousand
instances of his lordly bearing. When, on one occasion, 'no effects' was written over the treasury-door
of Covent Garden Theatre, it will be remembered
that several actors proffered their services gratis,
in aid of the then humble but now arrogant and
persecuting establishment; among these patriots
was Mr. T. P. Cooke. The Covent Garden
managers jumped at the offer of the actor, who
was in due time announced as having, in the true
play-bill style, 'most generously volunteered his
services for six nights!' Cooke was advertised for
'William,' Elliston having 'most generously lent
[N.B., this was not put in the bill] the musical score
of Black-Eyed Susan, together with the identical
captains' coats worn at a hundred and fifty court
martials at the Surrey Theatre. Cooke—the score—the coats, were all accepted, and made the most
of by the now prosecuting managers of Covent
Garden, who cleared out of the said Cooke, score,
and coats one thousand pounds at half-price on the
first six nights of their exhibition. This is a fact;
nay, we have lately heard it stated that all the sum
was specially banked, to be used in a future war
against the minors. Cooke was then engaged for
twelve more nights, at ten pounds per night—a
hackney-coach bringing him each night, hot from
the Surrey stage, where he had previously made
bargemen weep and thrown nursery-maids into convulsions. Well, time drove on, and Cooke drove
into the country. Elliston, who was always classical,
having a due veneration for that divine 'creature,'
Shakespeare, announced, on the anniversary of the
poet's birthday, a representation of the Stratford
Jubilee. The wardrobe was ransacked, the propertyman was on the alert, and, after much preparation,
everything was in readiness for the imposing
spectacle. No! There was one thing forgotten—one important 'property!' 'Bottom' must be a
'feature' in the procession; and there was no ass's
head! It would not do for the acting manager
to apologise for the absence of the head—no, he
could not have the face to do it. A head must be
procured. Every one was in doubt and trepidation, when hope sounded in the clarion-like voice of
Robert William. 'Ben!' exclaimed Elliston, 'take
pen, ink, and paper, and write as follows.' Ben
(Mr. Benjamin Fairbrother, the late manager's
most trusted secretary) sat 'all ear,' and Elliston,
with finger on nether lip, proceeded—'My Dear
Charles,—I am about to represent, "with entirely
new dresses, scenery, and decorations," the Stratford Jubilee, in honour of the sweet swan of Avon.
My scene-painter is the finest artist (except your
Grieve) in Europe; my tailor is no less a genius;
and I lately raised the salary of my property-man.
This will give you some idea of the capabilities of
the Surrey Theatre. However, in the hurry of
"getting up" we have forgotten one property—everything is well with us but our "Bottom," and he
wants a head. As it is too late to manufacture—not but that my property-man is the cleverest in the
world (except the property-man of Covent Garden)—can you lend me an ass's head; and believe me,
my dear Charles, yours ever truly, Robert William
Elliston. P.S.—I had forgotten to acknowledge
the return of the Black-Eyed Susan score and coats.
You were most welcome to them.'
"The letter was dispatched to Covent Garden
Theatre, and in a brief time the bearer returned
with the following answer:—'My Dear Robert,—It is with the most acute pain that I am compelled
to refuse your trifling request. You are aware, my
dear sir, of the unfortunate situation of Covent
Garden Theatre; it being at the present moment,
with all the "dresses, scenery, and decorations,'
in the Court of Chancery, I cannot exercise that
power which my friendship would dictate. I have
spoken to Bartley, and he agrees with me (indeed,
he always does) that I cannot lend you an ass's
head—he is an authority on such a subject—without
risking a reprimand from the Lord High Chancellor.
Trusting to your generosity and to your liberal construction of my refusal, and hoping that it will in
no way interrupt that mutually cordial friendship
that has ever subsisted between us, believe me,
ever yours, Charles Kemble. P.S.—When I next
see you advertised for "Rover," I intend to leave
myself out of the bill, and come and see it.'
"Of course this letter did not remain long unanswered. Ben was again in requisition, and the
following was the result of his labours:—
"'Dear Charles,—I regret the situation of
Covent Garden Theatre; I also, for your sake,
deeply regret that the law does not permit you to
send me the "property" in question. I knew that
law alone could prevent you; for were it not for
the vigilance of equity, such is my opinion of
the management of Covent Garden, that I am
convinced, if left to the dictates of its own judgment, it would be enabled to spare asses' heads,
not to the Surrey alone, but to every theatre in
Christendom. Yours ever truly, Robert William
Elliston. P.S.—My wardrobe-keeper informs me
that there are no less than seven buttons missing
from the captains' coats. However, I have ordered
their places to be instantaneously filled by others.'
"We entreat our readers not to receive the
above as a squib of invention. We will not pledge
ourselves that the letters are verbatim from the
originals; but the loan of the Surrey music and
coats to Covent Garden, with the refusal of Covent
Garden's ass's head to the Surrey, is 'true as holy
writ.'"
At the time when Elliston was lessee of the Surrey
and the Olympic Theatres, about 1833, the actors,
who were common to both houses, had to hurry from
St. George's Fields over Blackfriars Bridge to Wych
Street, and occasionally back again also, the same
evening. Sometimes the "legitimate drama" was
performed here in a curious fashion. The law
allowed only musical performances at the minor
theatres: so a pianoforte tinkled, or a clarionet
moaned, a dismal accompaniment to the speeches
of Macbeth or Othello. The fact is that, as Dr.
Doran tells us in the epilogue to "His Majesty's
Servants, "the powers of the licenser (the Lord
Chamberlain) did not extend to St. George's Fields,
where political plays, forbidden on the Middlesex
side of the river, were attractive merely because
they were forbidden." Considerable excellence
has generally been shown in the scenery at this
theatre, which appeals through the eye to the "sensations" of the lower classes; and M. Esquiros,
in his "English at Home," tells us that Danby, as
scene-painter, produced at the Surrey some of the
chastest effects ever witnessed on an English
stage.
After the death of Elliston, the lesseeship was
held in succession by Davidge, Osbaldiston, Creswick, and other individuals of dramatic note; but
it never rose far above mediocrity. The fabric was
burnt down a second time in January, 1865, but
rebuilt and re-opened in the course of the same
year, great additions and improvements having been
made in its interior arrangements.
The change in the name of this theatre, after it
ceased to be used for equestrian performances, is
thus mentioned in the "Rejected Addresses:"—
"And burnt the Royal Circus in a hurry:
'Twas called the Circus then, but now the Surrey."
James Smith, in a note in the "Rejected Addresses," writes:—"The authors happened to be at
the Royal Circus when 'God save the King' was
called for, accompanied by a cry of 'Stand up!'
and 'Hats off!' An inebriated naval lieutenant
perceiving a gentleman in an adjoining box slow
to obey the call, struck his hat off with his stick,
exclaiming, 'Take off your hat, sir.' The other thus
assailed proved to be, unluckily for the lieutenant,
Lord Camelford, the celebrated bruiser and duellist.
A set-to in the lobby was the consequence, where
his lordship quickly proved victorious."
The exterior of the old theatre was plain but neat,
and the approaches very convenient. The auditorium, which was nearly square in form, was exceedingly spacious. The upper part of the proscenium
was supported by two gilt, fluted composite columns
on each side, with intervening stage-doors and
boxes. The pit would seat about 900 persons.
The general ornamentation of the boxes, &c., was
white and gold. The gallery, as customary in the
minor theatres, was remarkably spacious, and would
hold above 1,000 persons. It descended to a level
with the side boxes in the centre, but from its
principal elevation it was continued along both
sides over them. The ceiling sprang from the
four extremities of the front and of the side
galleries. The centre was painted in imitation of
a sky, with genii on the verge and in the angles.
A handsome chandelier depended from the centre,
besides smaller ones suspended from brackets over
the stage-doors, which were continued round the
boxes.
The present theatre, which, as we have stated
above, was built in 1865, is a great improvement
upon the old building in every respect. It is considerably larger, and its construction cost £38,000;
the machinery, with the new appliances insisted on
by the Lord Chamberlain for the security of life
from fire, cost nearly £2,000. Like most of the
minor theatres in London, the Surrey has of late
years been occasionally used on Sundays for religious "revival" services, thereby reconciling to
some extent the old enmities between the pulpit
and the stage.
The fact of the Surrey Theatre having been at
one time used for the exhibition of feats of horsemanship is kept in remembrance by the sign of a
tavern which adjoins it, called "The Equestrian."
The actors of the transpontine theatres of half
a century ago very naturally had their habitations
almost invariably on the south side of the Thames.
Elliston himself lived in Great Surrey Street (now
Blackfriars Road); Osbaldiston in Gray's Walk,
Lambeth; Davidge, of the Coburg, afterwards
manager of the Surrey, lived in Charlotte Terrace,
near the New Cut. St. George's Circus, at the south
end of Blackfriars Road, was so thickly peopled by
second-rate actors belonging to the Surrey and the
Coburg, that it was called the Theatrical Barracks.
Hercules Buildings, in the Westminster Bridge
Road, had then, and for twenty years afterwards,
a theatrical or musical family residing in every
house. Stangate, at the back of "Astley's," was
another favourite resort for the sons and daughters
of Thespis; and the cul de sac of Mount's Place,
Lambeth, where Ellar, the famous harlequin, lived
and died, was also in great repute as a residence
for the pantomimic and equestrian fraternity.
A house "somewhere beyond the obelisk," but
not capable of identification now, was the scene
of a trifling event in the early life of Charles
Dickens, which he records with some minuteness
in the autobiographical reminiscences preserved by
Mr. J. Forster in his published "Life!" When his
father had to pass through the insolvent Court of
the Marshalsea, it was necessary to prove that
the apparel and personal matters retained were
not above £20 in value. Charles, we suppose,
must have been regarded by the law as part and
parcel of his father, for he had to appear before
an official at this house in his best holiday clothes.
"I recollect his coming out to view me with his
mouth full and a strong smell of beer upon him,
and saying, good-naturedly, 'That will do,' and
'All right.'" He adds: "Certainly the hardest
creditor would not have been disposed (even if
legally entitled) to avail himself of my poor white
hat, my little jacket, and my corduroy trousers.
But I had in my pocket an old silver watch, given
me by my grandmother before the blacking days,
and I had entertained my doubts, as I went along,
whether that valuable possession might not bring
me above the twenty pounds' standard. So I was
greatly relieved, and made him a low bow of
acknowledgment as I went out."
THE SURREY THEATRE.
1. The Old Theatre, 1865.
2. Interior of New Theatre, 1865.
3. Ruins of the Old Theatre, 1865.
ROWLAND HILL'S CHAPEL IN 1814.
Between the Surrey Theatre and the Peabody
Buildings, which, as we have already stated, stand
on the site formerly occupied by the Magdalen
Hospital, is the Temperance Hall, a neat brickbuilt Gothic structure, one of several others erected
by the London Temperance Halls' Company. It
was built in 1875, and is used for concerts, lectures,
temperance meetings, and so forth.
Further northwards, between Webber Street and
Great Charlotte Street, is a house, No. 91, used
as the Working Men's College. It was opened
in 1868, for the purpose of giving to the working
men of South London, and their families, the
means of a thorough education. Professor Huxley
has long acted as principal of the college. Among
the work carried on here are technical classes for
carpenters and bricklayers, elementary classes in
chemistry and in mathematics, and a Civil Service
class.
A few doors further northward are the offices
of the South London Tramway Company, which
was founded in 1870, in order to supply cheap and
rapid communication by street cars, on the American
principle. The company have laid down no less
than 20½ miles of street-rails along the high roads
connecting Vauxhall, Westminster, Blackfriars, and
London Bridges with Greenwich, Deptford, Camberwell, Brixton, Kennington, and Clapham. The
cars constantly in use are 90 in number, employing about 1,000 horses and 350 men. They carry in
the course of a year about 15,000,000 passengers.
Nearly opposite the above-mentioned offices is
the modern Mission College of St. Alphege, named
after the saint with whose murder by the Danes
the reader has been already made acquainted in our
account of Greenwich. (fn. 3)
Nelson Square, close by, on the east side of
Blackfriars Road, was doubtless built at the commencement of the century, when the great naval
hero was in the height of his glory, and named
in honour of him. Beyond a tavern, bearing the
sign of the "Lord Nelson," the square is merely
occupied by small tradesmen and as lodginghouses, and therefore is one of those fortunate
places which has little or no history attached to it.
The "Dog's Head in the Pot" is mentioned
as an old London sign in a curious tract, printed
by Wynkyn de Worde, called "Cocke Lorelle's
Bote." A sign of this description is still to be
seen in the Blackfriars Road, over the door of a
furnishing ironmonger's shop, at the corner of
Little Charlotte Street, close by Nelson Square.
Surrey Chapel, which stands on the eastern side
of the road, at the opposite corner of Little Charlotte Street, about 500 yards from Blackfriars
Bridge, is an ugly octagonal building, with no pretensions to any definite style of architecture. It
is still often called "Rowland Hill's Chapel," after
its former minister, the Rev. Rowland Hill, who,
though the son of a Shropshire baronet and a
deacon of the Established Church, became a
Dissenter from conviction, and was for half a
century the able and eloquent minister of a congregation of Calvinistic Methodists who worshipped
here. He was eloquent, witty, and warm-hearted,
and was for many years a power in the religious
world, being on the best of terms with the more
"Evangelical" portion of the national clergy.
His wit was almost as ready as that of Douglas
Jerrold or Theodore Hook. Once when preaching
near the docks at Wapping, he said, "I am come
to preach to great, to notorious, yes, to Wapping
sinners!" Another day, observing a number of
persons coming into his chapel, not so much to
hear his sermon as to escape the rain, he declared
that though he had known of persons making
religion a cloak, he had never heard of it being
made an umbrella before! His congregation were
much attached to him personally, and always subscribed liberally in answer to his appeals to their
purses; and he, therefore, compared them to a
good cow, which gives the more the more that
she is milked! His wife was too fond of dress for
a minister's wife; and it is said that within these
walls he would often preach at her by name,
saying, "Here comes my wife, with a whole wardrobe on her head and back;" but this story is
apocryphal. At all events, he always denied its
truth, declaring that though he was always outspoken
in denouncing vanity and frivolity, he was not a
bear, but a Christian and a gentleman!
In his youth Rowland was noted for that redundant flow of spirits which never failed him even
to his latest years. He was, likewise, even in his
younger days, celebrated for wit and humour, an
instance of which occurred at Eton, on the occasion
of a discussion among the scholars as to the power
of the letter H. Some contended that it had the
full power of a letter, while others thought it a
mere aspirate, and that it might be omitted altogether without any disadvantage to our language.
Rowland earnestly contended for its continuance,
adding, "To me the letter H is a most invaluable
one, for if it be taken away, I shall be ill all the
days of my life." With the intention of qualifying
himself for one of the livings in the gift of his
family, he entered St. John's College, Cambridge,
where, from his serious behaviour and somewhat
unusual zeal in visiting the sick and engaging in
out-door preaching, he became the subject of much
obloquy. When the time came for taking orders,
he found that his former "irregular" conduct
proved an insuperable difficulty. His brother
Richard was the only member of his family who
approved of his eccentric conduct at this period.
For several years after leaving college he had been
extensively occupied in out-door preaching, both
in the country and in the metropolis. The Church
of England pulpits were, of course, not then open
to him; but among the Dissenters no such obstacle
existed. It was at one time generally believed
that he would be the successor of Whitefield at
Tottenham Court Road Chapel. During four
years he experienced six refusals from several
prelates; but in 1773 the Bishop of Bath and
Wells consented to admit him to deacon's orders.
His first curacy was Kingston, near Taunton. The
Bishop of Carlisle had promised to ordain him a
priest, but was commanded by the Archbishop of
York not to admit him to a higher grade in the
Church, on account of his irregularity. This refusal
caused Rowland to remark that he "ran off with
only one ecclesiastical boot on." After leaving his
curacy, he returned to his former course of fieldpreaching, and during the next ten years he visited
various parts of England, Wales, and Ireland,
London not excepted. "As we are commanded,"
he once remarked, "to preach the Gospel to every
creature, even to the ends of the world, I always
conceived that in preaching through England,
Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, I stuck close to my
parish." In later life nothing gave him greater
pleasure than the occasional offer of a Church of
England pulpit, for to the close of his life, although
fraternising extensively with the Dissenters, he
considered himself a clergyman of the Established
Church. The time at length came when his
somewhat erratic career was to end in a more
settled ministry in the metropolis, and where his
former popularity would be still further extended.
Being in London during the riots of 1780, Rowland Hill took advantage of the opportunity afforded him of addressing the large multitudes then
assembled in St. George's Fields, sometimes preaching to as many as 20,000 persons. Up to this
period of his life, he had exercised his ministry
irregularly, preaching in Church of England pulpits
when practicable, but more frequently in Dissenting
chapels or in the open air. He had, it is said, for
some time felt the desirability of a settled ministry,
and his wish was soon afterwards carried into effect
by some liberal-minded persons coming forward
with subscriptions towards the erection of a large
chapel in the south of London. The spot selected
was in the new road then recently opened from
Blackfriars Bridge to the Obelisk. Among the
contributors to the proposed chapel were Lord
George Gordon, who gave a donation of £50,
Lady Huntingdon, and others. The first stone
was laid early in 1782, and the building, which cost
about £5,000, was opened in June, 1783. From
that time till his death, in 1833, Mr. Hill was the
minister of the chapel, residing in the adjoining
parsonage-house for the long period of fifty years.
When first erected, the chapel stood almost
among fields, but in the course of a few years the
locality on every side became thickly populated.
With regard to the shape of the chapel, Mr. Hill
is stated to have once remarked that he liked a
round building, for it prevented the devil hiding
in any of the corners. Its close proximity to the
public road, and the excellence of the singing, for
which it was long celebrated, induced many passersby to enter the chapel. Many wealthy persons
were regular attendants; and among the occasional
visitors were Dean Milner, William Wilberforce,
Ambrose Serle, and the Duke of Kent. Sheridan
once said, "I go to hear Rowland Hill, because
his ideas come red-hot from the heart." Dean
Milner once told him, "Mr. Hill, Mr. Hill! I felt
to-day—'tis this slap-dash preaching, say what they
will, that does all the good;" and the Duke of
Kent, in Mr. Hill's parlour, mentioned how much
he was struck by the service, especially the singing.
Sir Richard Hill, the brother of Rowland, was
one of the first trustees, and a frequent attendant.
Although in every particular it was essentially a
Dissenting chapel, the liturgical service of the
Church of England was regularly used, while the
most celebrated preachers of all denominations
have occupied the pulpit. For the first few years
after the erection of the chapel, Mr. Hill availed
himself of the occasional services of clergymen of
the Establishment, among whom were the Revs.
John Venn and Thomas Scott, and also some
eminent Dissenting ministers. But, in 1803, the
publication of a satirical pamphlet directed against
the Established clergy, entitled "Spiritual Characteristics," having special reference to an Act
then recently passed in Parliament, with the object
of enforcing the residence of some of the beneficed clergy, and generally believed to have been
written by Mr. Hill, resulted in the withdrawal of
the services of his clerical friends. It was his
usual custom to spend the summer of each year in
itinerant preaching in various parts of England
and Wales, and during these absences from London his pulpit was regularly supplied by eminent
Dissenting ministers. He found time to visit
Scotland more than once. The popularity of
several of his substitutes was so great that the
spacious chapel, which had sittings for about 2,000
persons, was sometimes more crowded than when
Rowland Hill was the officiating minister. Very
large sums have been annually raised for the
various charitable institutions and religious societies connected with Surrey Chapel. The organ,
which in its day was considered a powerful instrument, was for many years played by Mr. Jacobs,
whose musical ear was so fine that he was selected
by Haydn to tune his pianoforte. The singing at
Surrey Chapel was long a special feature; and Mr.
Hill is said to have once remarked that he "did not
see why the devil should have all the good tunes,"
for in his lifetime and some years afterwards it was
a common occurrence to hear certain hymns, composed by Rowland Hill, sung to the tunes of "Rule,
Britannia," or the "National Anthem."
The poet Southey, who paid a visit to Surrey
Chapel in 1823, when Rowland Hill was in his
seventy-ninth year, gives in one of his letters the
following particulars:—
"Rowland Hill's pulpit is raised very high;
and before it, at about half the height, is the
reader's desk on his right, and the clerk's on his
left—the clerk being a very grand personage, with
a sonorous voice. The singing was so general and
so good, that I joined in it. During the singing,
after Rowland had made his prayer before the
sermon, we were beckoned from our humble
places by a gentleman in one of the pews. He
was very civil; and by finding out the hymns for
me, and presenting me with the book, enabled
me to sing, which I did to admiration. Rowland,
a fine, tall old man, with strong features, very like
his portrait, began by reading three verses for his
text, stooping to the book in a very peculiar
manner. Having done this, he stood up erect, and
said, 'Why, the text is a sermon, and a very weighty
one too.' I could not always follow his delivery,
the loss of his teeth rendering his words sometimes
indistinct, and the more so because his pronunciation is peculiar, generally giving e the sound of
ai, like the French. His manner was animated
and striking, sometimes impressive and dignified,
always remarkable; and so powerful a voice I
have rarely or ever heard. Sometimes he took off
his spectacles, frequently stooped down to read a
text, and on these occasions he seemed to double
his body, so high did he stand. He told one or
two familiar stories, and used some odd expressions,
such as, 'A murrain on those who preach that
when we are sanctified we do not grow in grace!'
And again, 'I had almost said I had rather see
the devil in the pulpit than an Antinomian!' The
purport of his sermon was good; nothing fanatical,
nothing enthusiastic; and the Calvinism it expressed was so qualified as to be harmless. The
manner, that of a performer, as great in his line
as Kean or Kemble: and the manner it is which
has attracted so large a congregation about him,
all of the better order of persons in business."
Mr. Hill sometimes caused his chapel to take
a prominent part on public occasions, even in
politics. For instance, when the peace of Amiens
took place in 1802, he exhibited in front of his
chapel an appropriate transparency, with the quaint
motto, "May the new-born peace be as old as Methuselah!" When, a few months later, the peace
was at an end, and the invasion of this country
was threatened by Napoleon, volunteer companies
were raised in every district. Mr. Hill at once
invited the volunteers in and around the metropolis
to come to his chapel to hear a sermon, on the
afternoon of the 3rd of December, 1803, on which
occasion the building was thronged in every part.
Of this service he afterwards remarked, speaking
of the volunteers, "I acknowledge that your very
respectacle appearance, your becoming deportment
while in the house of God, and especially the
truly serious and animated manner in which you
all stood up to sing the high praises of our God,
filled me with solemn surprise, and exhibited before
me one of the most affecting scenes I ever beheld."
Mr. Hill composed a hymn specially for the occasion, which was sung to the tune of the "National
Anthem;" and another commencing thus—
"When Jesus first, at Heaven's command,
Descended from his azure throne,"
which was sung to the air of "Rule, Britannia."
After the battle of Waterloo, in which five of his
nephews were engaged, a neat transparency, which
attracted some attention, was placed in front of
the chapel. At the head of it two hands held,
on a scroll, the words, "The tyrant is fallen!"
Under this came a quotation from Obadiah 3, 4;
to which was added, "Be wise now, therefore, O
ye kings; be instructed, ye judges of the earth."
The subject of the painting was the sun setting
on the sea, exhibiting on the shore, to the left, a
lion crouching at the foot of a fortress near the
trophies of war; and to the right, a lamb lying by
the implements of agriculture, with a village church
and a cottage before it.
Rowland Hill's labours as a philanthropist are
not so generally known as his fame as a preacher.
During one of his summer visits to Wotton-underEdge, Gloucestershire, where he had erected a
small chapel, he became acquainted with Dr.
Jenner, who lived in the vicinity of that village.
He soon saw the advantages resulting from vaccination, and henceforward very earnestly recommended the practice of inoculation, publishing,
in 1806, a pamphlet on the subject, in which he
defended the new proposal from the aspersions of
some of its opponents. "This," said he, "is the
very thing for me;" and wherever he went to
preach on his country excursions, he frequently
announced after his sermon, "I am ready to
vaccinate to-morrow morning as many children
as you choose; and if you wish them to escape
that horrid disease, the small-pox, you will bring
them." One of the most effective vaccine boards
in London was established at Surrey Chapel. At
different places he instructed suitable persons in
the use of the lancet for this purpose. It has been
stated that in a few years the numbers inoculated
by him amounted to more than 10,000. It may
be further added that the first Sunday School in
London was established in Mr. Hill's chapel. (fn. 4)
His untiring exertions on behalf of religious
liberty ought not to be forgotten. In the earlier
part of the present century a most determined effort
was made to subject Dissenting chapels to parochial
assessments, or the payment of poor's rates, and
the experiment was first tried with Surrey Chapel,
on account of its nondescript character. Mr. Hill
resisted the attempt, because he regarded it as an
invasion of the Toleration Act, which George III.,
in his first speech from the throne, had pledged
himself to maintain inviolable. Mr. Hill and his
friends were summoned to attend at the Guildford
sessions, and although they gained a temporary
success, they were compelled to appear on five
subsequent occasions, on each of which the
parochial authorities were unsuccessful. The
subject was then taken up by the Dissenters generally, Mr. Hill meanwhile publishing a pamphlet
on the subject, which soon passed through three
editions. His exertions were at last crowned with
success by the passing of the Religious Worship
Act, which repealed certain Acts relating to religious
worship and assemblies, and henceforward set the
question for ever at rest. During these inquiries
concerning the taxation of Surrey Chapel, it was
elicited in evidence that instead of the revenues
of the chapel going to Rowland Hill, as was by
some persons believed, it turned out that the
chapel was vested in the hands of trustees, and
after the payment of all expenses incident to
public worship, only a small surplus remained.
Some person once said of him, "Rowland Hill
must get a good annual sum by his chapels and
his travelling;" and on this coming to his ears,
he remarked, "Well, let any one pay my travelling
expenses for one year, and he shall have all my
gains, I promise him." He did not relax his
labours even in old age, for in one week, when
past seventy-one, he travelled a hundred miles in
a mountainous part of Wales, and preached twenty-one sermons. During his long ministry of sixty-six
years he preached at least 23,000 sermons, many
of which were delivered in the open air, being an
average of 350 every year.
In the "Picture of London" for 1802 the name
of Mr. Rowland Hill is placed at the head of the
popular preachers among the "Calvinistic Methodists." He is described as "remarkable for a very
vehement kind of eloquence, and on all subjects
having the gift of a ready utterance; he is followed," adds the writer, "by the most crowded
audiences, chiefly composed of the lower classes of
society. . . . . Many of the most popular
preachers among the Methodists are ordained
ministers of the Established Church, and have no
objection to administer the ordinances of religion
either in the church, the chapel, the meeting-house,
or the open air." As a preacher, he long held a
position in the religious world which has never
been paralleled, except, perhaps, by Robert Hall.
Even Bishop Blomfield declared that Mr. Hill was
the best preacher that he had ever heard. On one
occasion Bishop Maltby accompanied Dr. Blomfield to the Surrey Chapel. The two bishops were
great Greek scholars, and as the preacher floundered in some allusion to the original Greek of his
text, the two prelates sat and winked at each
other, enjoying the fun.
Mr. J. T. Smith, in his "Book for a Rainy Day,"
tells an amusing anecdote concerning Rowland
Hill, which we may be pardoned for quoting. Mr.
Smith narrates how that one Sunday morning, in
his younger days, he was passing Surrey Chapel on
his way to Camberwell, when the "swelling pipes"
of the organ had such an attraction that he was
induced to go inside. He then proceeds:—"No
sooner was the sermon over and the blessing
bestowed, than Rowland electrified his hearers
by vociferating, 'Door-keepers, shut the doors!'
Slam went one door; bounce went another; bang
went a third; at last, all being anxiously silent as
the most importantly unexpected scenes of Sir
Walter Scott could make them, the pastor, with a
slow and dulcet emphasis, thus addressed his congregation:—'My dearly beloved, I speak it to my
shame, that this sermon was to have been a charity
sermon, and if you will only look down into the
green pew at those—let me see—three and three
are six, and one makes seven, young men with red
morocco prayer-books in their hands, poor souls!
they were backsliders, for they went on the Serpentine River, and other far distant waters, on a
Sabbath; they were, however, as you see, all
saved from a watery grave. I need not tell ye that
my exertions were to have been for the benefit of
that benevolent institution, the Humane Society.
What! I see some of ye already up to be gone;
fie! fie! fie!—never heed your dinners; don't be
Calibans, nor mind your pockets. I know that
some of ye are now attending to the devil's whispers. I say, listen to me! take my advice, give
shillings instead of sixpences; and those who intended to give shillings, display half-crowns, in
order not only to thwart the foul fiend's mischievousness, but to get your pastor out of this
scrape; and if you do, I trust Satan will never put
his foot within this circle again. Hark ye! I have
hit upon it; ye shall leave us directly. The Bank
Directors, you must know, have called in the
dollars; now, if any of you happen to be encumbered with a stale dollar or two, jingle the Spanish
in our dishes; we'll take them, they'll pass current
here. Stay, my friends, a moment more. I am
to dine with the Humane Society on Tuesday next,
and it would shock me beyond expression to see
the strings of the Surrey Chapel bag dangle down
its sides like the tags upon Lady Huntingdon's
servants' shoulders. Now, mind what I say, upon
this occasion I wish for a bumper as strenuously
as Master Hugh Peters did when he recommended
his congregation in Broadway Chapel to take a
second glass.'" Mr. Smith adds, as a foot-note,
that it is recorded of Hugh Peters, a celebrated
preacher during the usurpation of Oliver Cromwell,
that when he found the sand of his hour-glass had
descended, he turned it, saying, "Come, I know
you to be jolly dogs, we'll take t'other glass."
Mr. Sidney, one of Rowland Hill's biographers,
relates an amusing instance of his ready wit. It
seems he was accustomed, when in the desk, to
read any request for prayer that might be sent in.
One day he thus commenced—"'The prayers of
this congregation are desired for'—well, I suppose
I must finish what I have begun—'the Rev.
Rowland Hill, that he will not go riding about in
his carriage on Sundays.'" Not in the least disconcerted, Mr. Hill looked up, and gravely said,
"If the writer of this piece of folly and impertinence
is in the congregation, and will go into the vestry
after service, and let me put a saddle on his back,
I will ride him home, instead of going in my
carriage." He then went on with the service as if
nothing unusual had happened. Being reminded
of this circumstance many years afterwards by Mr.
Sidney, he said it was quite true. "You know I
could not call him a donkey in plain terms."
From the Rev. T. W. Aveling's "Memoirs of
the Clayton Family" we quote two anecdotes of
Rowland Hill:—As he was entering Surrey Chapel,
one Sunday morning, Mr. Hill passed two lads, one
of whom said to his companion, "Let's go and
hear Rowland Hill, and have some fun." The old
gentleman went inside the porch, just before the
boys, and gave directions to the verger to put them
in a certain pew, in front of the pulpit, and fasten
the door. This was done. After the prayers
were finished, Mr. Hill rose and gave out his text—"The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all
the nations that forget God" (Ps. ix. 17); and
looking full into the faces of the two youths, who
sat immediately before him, he said, significantly,
"And there's fun for you." The congregation,
somewhat familiar with the old man's oddities, felt
sure that he had a special reason for this strange
remark; and when, each time he repeated the text,
this singular commentary immediately followed, all
looked to see in what direction his glance was
turned, and the two lads soon found themselves
"the observed of all observers." The tremor and
alarm with which they heard the words that reminded them of their design on coming that
morning to Surrey Chapel were not diminished
when they saw every eye fixed upon them, whichever way they looked; and conscience, "which
doth make cowards of us all," wrought so powerfully—in conjunction with Mr. Hill's illustrations
of his text—that one of them fainted away, and had
to be carried out by his companion. The latter
remained comparatively unaffected, except with a
temporary feeling of shame. The youth who
fainted returned the next Sunday to the chapel;
in the course of time he became an Independent
minister; and before he died was chairman of the
Congregational Union. The other grew up careless and abandoned, and became an outcast from
country and friends.
INTERIOR OF THE ROTUNDA, BLACKFRIARS ROAD, IN 1820.
Another anecdote has been related of Mr. Hill,
which shows the readiness and wit with which
London working men can sometimes retort an
unwelcome reproof. One day, going down the
New Cut, opposite his chapel, he heard a brewer's
drayman, who was lowering some barrels, swearing
most fearfully. Rowland Hill rebuked him very
solemnly, and said, "Ah, my man! I shall appear
one day as a witness against you." "Very likely,"
rejoined the offender; "the biggest rogues always
turn king's evidence!" This unwelcome retort
made Mr. Hill resolve to be cautious in future,
when he reproved such men again, how he reproved
them.
Rowland Hill's biographers inform us that a
generous benevolence was a distinguishing trait of
his character, and that he seemed to possess the
power of inspiring his flock with a similar spirit.
On two occasions on which collections were made
in the churches and chapels throughout the kingdom (the Patriotic Fund at Lloyd's, and the subscription for the relief of the German sufferers), the
collections at Surrey Chapel are recorded to have
been the largest raised at any one place. The
sum annually raised for charitable and religious
institutions at Surrey Chapel has varied from
£2,000 to £3,000.
Rowland Hill's death took place in April, 1833,
in the eighty-ninth year of his age. Up to the last
fortnight of his life he was able to preach a sermon
of nearly an hour's duration once every Sunday.
He was buried, at his own request, beneath the
pulpit of Surrey Chapel. The funeral service was
attended by a very large congregation; his nephew,
the head of his family, Lord Hill, then Commanderin-Chief of the army, being the chief mourner.
A tablet and bust in his memory were placed soon
afterwards in the gallery behind the pulpit. His
successor in the ministry of Surrey Chapel was the
Rev. James Sherman, on whose resignation, in the
year 1854, the pulpit became occupied by the Rev.
Newman Hall.
Rowland Hill, when advanced in life, became
possessed of some fortune; and accordingly, at his
decease, he left the large sum of £11,000 to the
Village Itinerancy, together with sundry donations
to different religious institutions. Besides these
bequests, he left a sum of money for the perpetuation of Surrey Chapel at the expiration of the lease;
but this gift having subsequently been declared
informal, as coming under the Statute of Mortmain,
the bequest reverted to Hackney College, and in
1859 the congregation set themselves zealously to
work to subscribe a sum equal to that which they
had lost (£8,000). As they were unable to obtain
a renewal of the lease, a new church was erected in
the Westminster Bridge Road, on the site formerly
occupied by the Female Orphan Asylum, as we
have already stated; (fn. 5) and to this new building
the congregation migrated in July, 1876. Since
that date Surrey Chapel has been occupied by the
Primitive Methodists.
Surrey Chapel became "the centre of a system
of benevolent societies designed to reach the
various classes of the community;" and in 1812
Rowland Hill established some almshouses in the
adjacent Gravel Lane, in a thoroughfare now
known as Hill Street, on a spot ominously enough
named Hangman's Acre, where twenty-four poor
widows found a home. Mr. Charlesworth, in his
recently published "Life of Rowland Hill," thus
records the eccentric preacher's mode of dealing
with applicants:—"An aged female wished to
qualify herself for admission to an almshouse by
becoming a member of the church. 'So you wish
to join the church?'—'If you please, sir.' 'Where
have you been accustomed to hear the Gospel?'—'At your blessed chapel, sir.' 'Oh! indeed; at my
blessed chapel; dear me! And how long have you
attended with us?'—'For several years.' 'Do you
think you have got any good by attending the
chapel?'—'Oh! yes, sir. I have had many blessed
seasons.' 'Indeed! Under whose ministry do
you think you were led to feel yourself to be a
sinner?'—'Under your blessed ministry.' 'Indeed!
And do you think your heart is pretty good?'—'Oh, no! sir; it is a very bad one.' 'What! and
do you come here with your bad heart, and wish
to join the church?'—'Oh, sir! I mean that my
heart is not worse than others; it is pretty good
on the whole!' 'Indeed! that's more than I can
say; I'm sure mine's bad enough. Well, have
you heard that we are going to build some blessed
almshouses?'—'Yes, sir, I have.' 'Should you
like to have one of them?' Dropping a very low
curtsey, she replied, 'Yes, sir, if you please.' 'I
thought so. You may go about your business, my
friend; you won't do for us.' The severity of this
treatment was doubtless justified by Mr. Hill's
knowledge of the applicant, and the suspicion of
her ulterior object."
On the west side of Blackfriars Road, about
midway between Great Charlotte Street and the
bridge, is Christ Church, which dates its erection
from the middle of the last century. The parish
of Christ Church was taken out of that of St.
Saviour, Southwark, and was originally part of the
district called the Liberty of Paris Garden. This
spot, as we have shown in a previous chapter, (fn. 6) was
one of the ancient places of amusement of the
metropolis; and it seems to have been much
frequented on Sundays for bear-baiting, a favourite
sport in the time of Queen Elizabeth. Paris
Garden, according to the ancient maps, extended
from the west end of Bankside and the Liberty
of the Clink towards what is now the southern
extremity of Blackfriars Bridge. On the east it
appears bounded by a mill-stream and mill-pond,
and a road marked as leading to Copt Hall; there
was also a mill, with gates, between the pond and
the Thames. There is, or used to be, a ditch or
dyke running across Great Surrey Street; but for
some years it has been covered or built upon. All
buildings thereon are subject to a ground-rent,
payable to "the steward of the manor of Old Paris
Garden, and are collected half-yearly. (fn. 7) In the
centre of the Liberty stood a cross, from which a
narrow thoroughfare, marked "Olde Parris Lane,"
leads down to the river. On the south-east, a
winding thoroughfare, with water on both sides,
leads to St. George's Fields; and on the south-west
another to the "Manner (sic) House." There are
small rows of cottages along parts of these roads.
In early times very few houses stood on this
marshy ground; but we have an account of a
mansion or manor-house built upon a somewhat
elevated part of the marsh, near the river, by one
Robert of Paris, in the reign of Richard II.; the
locality is still indicated by the name of Upper
Ground Street. "It is said," writes the author of
"London in the Olden Time," published in 1855,
"that the king commanded the butchers of London to purchase this estate by the river-side for
the purpose of making it a receptacle for garbage
discharged from the city slaughter-houses, so that
the inhabitants might not be annoyed therewith.
This plot of ground, called Paris Garden—for so it
has always been designated—is, or was, surrounded
by the Thames and its waters which flow through
ditches at high tides."
It appears that subsequently this estate of Robert
of Paris came into the possession of the prior and
monks of Bermondsey Abbey; but on the dissolution of the monasteries it was sold, and fell into lay
hands. About one hundred and fifty years afterwards, in the reign of William and Mary, we find
Paris Garden an inhabited locality, the property
of a gentleman named Marshall, who founded and
endowed here a church, which he named Christ
Church, having obtained an Act of Parliament converting the ancient manor of Paris Garden into a
parish under that name.
The first church was erected at the expense of
Mr. Marshall, and finished in 1671. The steeple
and spire, which were 125 feet high, were not completed till 1695. This edifice, in consequence of
the badness of the foundations, soon became so
dilapidated, that in 1737 Mr. Marshall's trustees
applied to Parliament for power to rebuild it, with
the sum of £2,500, which had accumulated in
their hands from the trust, and obtained an Act for
that purpose. The present structure was accordingly erected. This is situated in a spacious burialground. The plan of the fabric is nearly square;
and at the west end is a square tower, flanked
by lobbies. The walls are of brick, with stone
dressings. The tower is built partly within and
partly without the wall of the church; it is in three
storeys: the lower has an arched doorway, with a
circular window over it, and the second and third
storeys each have arched windows. An octagon
turret of wood rises above the parapet in two
stages, the lower forming the plinth to the other;
in four of the faces are dials, and the whole is
finished with a cupola and vane. The general
appearance of the body of the church is plain and
uninteresting, both externally and internally. The
great east window contains some ornamented
stained glass and a painting of the descending
dove; in the side lights are the arms of the see of
Winchester, impaled with those of Izaak Walton's
"good Bishop Morley," who was bishop of that
diocese at the time of the consecration of the
church.
In Church Street, about the year 1730, Mr.
Charles Hopton founded a row of almshouses for
twenty-six "decayed housekeepers," each of whom
received £10 per annum and a chaldron of coals.
At a short distance northward of Christ Church,
Stamford Street branches off westwards from Blackfriars Road, and thus forms a connecting link with
that thoroughfare and Waterloo Bridge Road. It
is a good broad street, dating from the beginning
of this century; and, with York Road westward of
it and Southwark Street to the east, serves as a
direct communication, almost parallel with the
river, from the High Street, Borough, to Westminster Bridge and Lambeth. On the south side
of Stamford Street is a chapel, built about the year
1824, for the Unitarians. The building, from an
architectural point of view, forms a striking contrast with the generality of chapels and meetinghouses. A portico, of the Grecian Doric order,
occupies the whole front of the edifice, and imparts to it a commanding and temple-like aspect.
The wall within this portico is unbroken by any
other aperture than a single door, forming the
entrance to the building. The interior corresponds
with the exterior in simplicity of taste and in the
style of its decoration, which is of that plainness
that it might even satisfy a congregation of
Quakers.
Nearly opposite the above-mentioned chapel, at
the corner of Hatfield Street, is the Hospital for
Diseases of the Skin, an institution which since its
establishment, in 1841, has done a deal of good
in the gratuitous medical treatment of the poor
afflicted with cutaneous diseases. This institution
was originally established in New Bridge Street,
Blackfriars, and from 800 to 1,000 of the suffering
poor are every week relieved here.
In Duke Street, close by, are the extensive
printing works of the Messrs. Clowes and Sons.
This is one of the largest establishments of the
kind in the kingdom, and from its presses have
issued many of the works of Charles Dickens,
Charles Knight, and other eminent men of letters,
as well as the publications of the "Incorporated
Council of Law Reporting for England and Wales,"
numerous military works, and statistical reports for
various Government offices. The firm, in 1840,
undertook the contract for supplying the famous
Mulready envelope. The Mirror stated that they
arranged to supply the public with half a million
a day; but the design was distasteful to the public,
and the envelope was speedily recalled.
At the corner of Stamford Street and Blackfriars
Road, on the spot now occupied by the Central
Bank of London and three or four large houses
adjoining it, stood, till 1874, a row of tenements,
which for many years previously, owing to the
eccentricity of their owner, a Miss Angelina Read,
had been allowed to remain unoccupied. They
had long been windowless, and the dingy rooms
encumbered with dirt and rubbish and overrun
with rats; indeed, such a forlorn and desolate
aspect had they assumed that they became generally known as "the haunted houses." In the
above year, Miss Read having bequeathed them to
the Consumption Hospital at Brompton, they were
demolished, and some fine buildings have been
erected in their place.
A few doors northwards of Stamford Street, on
the west side of Blackfriars Road, is the building
once occupied by the museum collected by Sir
Ashton Lever, and removed hither from Leicester
Square, (fn. 8) when it became the property of a Mr.
Parkinson. The following is a fac-simile of an
advertisement of the exhibition, taken from a
London newspaper of March, 1790:—
LEVERIAN MUSEUM,
ALBION STREET,
The Surrey End of Black Friars Bridge.
This admired Assemblage of the Productions
of Nature and Art, with several curious and valuable
additions, both presented and purchased, continues to be
exhibited every day (Sundays excepted) from Ten to Six.
Admittance Half a Crown each person.
Good Fires in the Rotunda, &c.
Recently added to the Museum, a variety of Specimens
of the most rare and beautiful Birds from GUAYANA, in
SOUTH AMERICA.
Annual Admission Tickets may be had at the Museum,
at One Guinea each.
Part the First of the Catalogue of this Collection may be
had at the following places:—Messrs. White and Son, in
Fleet Street; Mr. Robson, in New Bond Street, Mr.
Elmsly, in the Strand; Mr. Sewell, in Cornhill; and at the
Museum. Price 2s. 6d.
This curious, extensive, and valuable collection
here experienced the most mortifying neglect, till,
in 1806, it was finally dispersed by public auction,
in a sale which lasted forty days. The premises
were subsequently occupied by the Surrey Institution, which was established in the following year.
Here some gentlemen proposed to form an institution on the Surrey side of the river, on a plan
similar to that of the Royal Institution in Albemarle Street. It was intended to have a series of
lectures, an extensive library and reading-rooms, a
chemical laboratory and philosophical apparatus,
&c. In 1820 this valuable institution was dissolved,
the library, &c., being sold by auction. After
that, the building, which was called the Rotunda,
was occupied for some years as a wine and concertroom. In September, 1833, it was opened as the
Globe Theatre. Two years previously it had been
appropriated to all kinds of purposes, including
the dissemination of the worst religious and political
opinions, and penny exhibitions of wax-work and
wild beast shows. In 1838 the Rotunda was
again opened as a concert-room; but the concern
never prospered, and its vicissitudes afterwards are
not worth noting. It was finally closed as a place
of amusement about the year 1855, and the building is now used for business purposes, being known
as the Rotunda Auction and Sale Rooms.
At the foot of Blackfriars Bridge formerly stood
a range of buildings, which at one time constituted
part of the Albion Mills. This extensive concern
was set on foot by a company of spirited and
opulent individuals, with the view of counteracting
the impositions but too frequently practised in the
grinding of corn. On the 3rd of March, 1791,
the whole building, with the exception of the corner
wing, occupied as the house and offices of the
superintendent, was destroyed by fire, together with
four thousand sacks of flour which it contained.
When these mills were burnt down, Horace Walpole was not ashamed to own that he had literally
never seen or heard of them, though the flakes and
the dust of burning grain were carried as far as
Westminster, Palace Yard, and even to St. James's.
"One may live," writes Walpole, "in a vast capital,
and know no more of three-parts of it than of
Carthage. When I was in Florence I have surprised some Florentines by telling them that
London is built (like their city, where you often
cross the bridges several times in a day) on each
side of the river, and yet that I had never been
but on one side; for then I had never been in
Southwark." What would Horace Walpole have
said of London, had he lived in the reign of
Victoria?
The front of the mill remained for many years
unrepaired, but was subsequently formed into a
row of handsome private habitations. These, in
turn, were demolished a few years ago, to make
room for the Blackfriars station and goods depôt
on the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway.
Somewhere near this spot, at no great distance
from the southern end of Blackfriars Bridge, stood
the most westerly of the play-houses on Bankside—the Swan Theatre. It was a large house, and
flourished only a few years, being suppressed at
the commencement of the civil wars, and soon
afterwards demolished.
Before the building of Blackfriars Bridge, in
1766, there was a ferry at this spot for the conveyance of traffic across the river. An idea of the
value of some of the ferries on the Thames may be
formed from the circumstance that on the construction of this bridge the committee of management agreed to invest the Waterman's Company
with £13,650 Consolidated Three per Cent. Annuities, to satisfy them for the loss of the Sunday
ferry at Blackfriars, which was proved to have produced, upon an average for fourteen years, the sum
of £409,000.