Old and New London Part 35

As soon as he had ascended the scaffold, which was much elevated in order that the people might behold the spectacle, Garnet saluted the Recorder somewhat familiarly, who told him that "it was expected from him that he should publicly deliver his real opinion respecting the conspiracy and treason; that it was now of no use to dissemble, as all was clearly and manifestly proved; but that if, in the true spirit of repentance, he was willing to satisfy the Christian world by declaring his hearty compunction, he might freely state what he pleased." The deans then told him that they were present on that occasion by authority, in order to suggest to him such matters as might be useful for his soul; that they desired to do this without offence, and exhorted him to prepare and settle himself for another world, and to commence his reconciliation with G.o.d by a sincere and saving repentance. To this exhortation Garnet replied "that he had already done so, and that he had before satisfied himself in this respect." The clergymen then suggested "that he would do well to declare his mind to the people." Then Garnet said to those near him, "I always disapproved of tumults and seditions against the king, and if this crime of the powder treason had been completed I should have abhorred it with my whole soul and conscience."

They then advised him to declare as much to the people. "I am very weak," said he, "and my voice fails me. If I should speak to the people, I cannot make them hear me; it is impossible that they should hear me."

Then said Mr. Recorder, "Mr. Garnet, if you will come with me, I will take care that they shall hear you," and, going before him, led him to the western end of the scaffold. He still hesitated to address the people, but the Recorder urged him to speak his mind freely, promising to repeat his words aloud to the mult.i.tude. Garnet then addressed the crowd as follows:--"My good fellow-citizens,--I am come hither, on the morrow of the invention of the Holy Cross, to see an end of all my pains and troubles in this world. I here declare before you all that I consider the late treason and conspiracy against the State to be cruel and detestable; and, for my part, all designs and endeavours against the king were ever misliked by me; and if this attempt had been perfected, as it was designed, I think it would have been altogether d.a.m.nable; and I pray for all prosperity to the king, the queen, and the royal family."

Here he paused, and the Recorder reminded him to ask pardon of the King for that which he had attempted. "I do so," said Garnet, "as far as I have sinned against him--namely, in that I did not reveal that whereof I had a general knowledge from Mr. Catesby, but not otherwise." Then said the Dean of Winchester, "Mr. Garnet, I pray you deal clearly in the matter: you were certainly privy to the whole business." "G.o.d forbid!"

said Garnet; "I never understood anything of the design of blowing up the Parliament House." "Nay," responded the Dean of Winchester, "it is manifest that all the particulars were known to you, and you have declared under your own hand that Greenaway told you all the circ.u.mstances in Ess.e.x." "That," said Garnet, "was in secret confession, which I could by no means reveal." Then said the Dean, "You have yourself, Mr. Garnet, almost acknowledged that this was only a pretence, for you have openly confessed that Greenaway told you not in a confession, but by way of a confession, and that he came of purpose to you with the design of making a confession; but you answered that it was not necessary you should know the full extent of his knowledge." The dean further reminded him that he had affirmed under his own hand that this was not told him by way of confessing a sin, but by way of conference and consultation; and that Greenaway and Catesby both came to confer with him upon that business, and that as often as he saw Greenaway he would ask him about that business because it troubled him.

"Most certainly," said Garnet; "I did so in order to prevent it, for I always misliked it." Then said the Dean, "You only withheld your approbation until the Pope had given his opinion." "But I was well persuaded," said Garnet, "that the Pope would never approve the design."

"Your intention," said the Dean of Winchester, "was clear from those two breves which you received from Rome for the exclusion of the King."

"That," said Garnet, "was before the King came in." "But if you knew nothing of the particulars of the business," said the Dean, "why did you send Baynham to inform the Pope? for this also you have confessed in your examinations." Garnet replied, "I have already answered to all these matters on my trial, and I acknowledge everything that is contained in my written confessions."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LIBRARY OF ST. PAUL'S (_see page 256_).]

Then, turning his discourse again to the people, at the instance of the Recorder, he proceeded to the same effect as before, declaring "that he wholly misliked that cruel and inhuman design, and that he had never sanctioned or approved of any such attempts against the King and State, and that this project, if it had succeeded, would have been in his mind most d.a.m.nable."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE FACE IN THE STRAW."--FROM ABBOT'S "ANTHOLOGIA,"

1613 (_see page 266_).]

Having thus spoken, he raised his hands, and made the sign of the cross upon his forehead and breast, saying, "_In nomine Patris, Filii, et Spiritus Sancti! Jesus Maria! Maria, mater gratiae! Mater misericordiae!

Tu me ab hoste protege, et hora mortis suscipe!_" Then he said, "_In ma.n.u.s tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum, quia tu redemisti me, Domine, Deus veritatis!_" Then, again crossing himself, he said, "_Per crucis hoc signum fugiat procul omne malignum! Infige crucem tuam, Domine, in corde meo;_" and again, "_Jesus Maria! Maria, mater gratiae!_"

In the midst of these prayers the ladder was drawn away, and, by the express command of the King, he remained hanging from the gallows until he was quite dead.

The "face in the straw" was a miracle said to be performed at Garnet's death.

The original fabricator of the miracle of the straw was one John Wilkinson, a young Roman Catholic, who at the time of Garnet's trial and execution was about to pa.s.s over into France, to commence his studies at the Jesuits' College at St. Omer's. Some time after his arrival there, Wilkinson was attacked by a dangerous disease, from which there was no hope of his recovery; and while in this state he gave utterance to the story, which Endaemon-Joannes relates in his own words, as follows:--"The day before Father Garnet's execution my mind was suddenly impressed (as by some external impulse) with a strong desire to witness his death, and bring home with me some relic of him. I had at that time conceived so certain a persuasion that my design would be gratified, that I did not for a moment doubt that I should witness some immediate testimony from G.o.d in favour of the innocence of his saint; though as often as the idea occurred to my mind, I endeavoured to drive it away, that I might not vainly appear to tempt Providence by looking for a miracle where it was not necessarily to be expected. Early the next morning I betook myself to the place of execution, and, arriving there before any other person, stationed myself close to the scaffold, though I was afterwards somewhat forced from my position as the crowd increased." Having then described the details of the execution, he proceeds thus:--"Garnet's limbs having been divided into four parts, and placed, together with the head, in a basket, in order that they might be exhibited, according to law, in some conspicuous place, the crowd began to disperse. I then again approached close to the scaffold, and stood between the cart and place of execution; and as I lingered in that situation, still burning with the desire of bearing away some relic, that miraculous ear of straw, since so highly celebrated, came, I know not how, into my hand. A considerable quant.i.ty of dry straw had been thrown with Garnet's head and quarters into the basket, but whether this ear came into my hand from the scaffold or from the basket I cannot venture to affirm; this only I can truly say, that a straw of this kind was thrown towards me before it had touched the ground. This straw I afterwards delivered to Mrs. N----, a matron of singular Catholic piety, who inclosed it in a bottle, which being rather shorter than the straw, it became slightly bent. A few days afterwards Mrs. N---- showed the straw in a bottle to a certain n.o.ble person, her intimate acquaintance, who, looking at it attentively, at length said, 'I can see nothing in it but a man's face.' Mrs. N---- and myself being astonished at this unexpected exclamation, again and again examined the ear of the straw, and distinctly perceived in it a human countenance, which others also, coming in as casual spectators, or expressly called by us as witnesses, likewise beheld at that time. This is, as G.o.d knoweth, the true history of Father Garnet's straw." The engraving upon the preceding page is taken from Abbot's "Anthologia,"

published in 1613, in which a full account of the "miracle" is given.

At 65, St. Paul's Churchyard, north-west corner, lived the worthy predecessor of Messrs. Grant and Griffith, Goldsmith's friend and employer, Mr. John Newbery, that good-natured man with the red-pimpled face, who, as the philanthropic bookseller, figures pleasantly in the "Vicar of Wakefield;" always in haste to be gone, he was ever on business of the utmost importance, and was at that time actually compiling materials for the history of one Thomas Trip. "The friend of all mankind," Dr. Primrose calls him. "The honestest man in the nation," as Goldsmith said of him in a doggerel riddle which he wrote.

Newbery's nephew printed the "Vicar of Wakefield" for Goldsmith, and the elder Newbery published the "Traveller," the corner-stone of Goldsmith's fame. It was the elder Newbery who unearthed the poet at his miserable lodgings in Green Arbour Court, and employed him to write his "Citizens of the World," at a guinea each, for his daily newspaper, the _Public Ledger_ (1760). The Newberys seem to have been worthy, prudent tradesmen, constantly vexed and irritated at Goldsmith's extravagance, carelessness, and ceaseless cry for money; and so it went on till the hare-brained, delightful fellow died, when Francis Newbery wrote a violent defence of the fever medicine, an excess of which had killed Goldsmith.

The office of the Registrar of the High Court of Admiralty occupied the site of the old cathedral bakehouse. Paul's Chain is so called from a chain that used to be drawn across the carriage-way of the churchyard, to preserve silence during divine service. The northern barrier of St.

Paul's is of wood. Opposite the Chain, in 1660 (the Restoration), lived that king of writing and arithmetic masters, the man whose name has grown into a proverb--Edward c.o.c.ker--who wrote "The Pen's Transcendancy," an extraordinary proof of true eye and clever hand.

In the Chapter House of St. Paul's, which Mr. Peter Cunningham not too severely calls "a shabby, dingy-looking building," on the north side of the churchyard, was performed the unjust ceremony of degrading Samuel Johnson, the chaplain to William Lord Russell, the martyr of the party of liberty. The divines present, in compa.s.sion, and with a prescient eye for the future, purposely omitted to strip off his ca.s.sock, which rendered the ceremony imperfect, and afterwards saved the worthy man his benefice.

St. Paul's Coffee House stood at the corner of the archway of Doctors'

Commons, on the site of "Paul's Brew House" and the "Paul's Head"

tavern. Here, in 1721, the books of the great collector, Dr. Rawlinson, were sold, "after dinner;" and they sold well.

Child's Coffee House, in St. Paul's Churchyard, was a quiet place, much frequented by the clergy of Queen Anne's reign, and by proctors from Doctors' Commons. Addison used to look in there, to smoke a pipe and listen, behind his paper, to the conversation. In the _Spectator_, No.

609, he smiles at a country gentleman who mistook all persons in scarves for doctors of divinity. This was at a time when clergymen always wore their black gowns in public. "Only a scarf of the first magnitude," he says, "ent.i.tles one to the appellation of 'doctor' from the landlady and the boy at 'Child's.'"

"Child's" was the resort of Dr. Mead, and other professional men of eminence. The Fellows of the Royal Society came here. Whiston relates that Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Halley, and he were once at "Child's," when Dr. Halley asked him (Whiston) why he was not a member of the Royal Society? Whiston answered, "Because they durst not choose a heretic."

Upon which Dr. Halley said, if Sir Hans Sloane would propose him, he (Dr. Halley) would second it, which was done accordingly.

Garrick, who kept up his interest with different coteries, carefully cultivated the City men, by attending a club held at the "Queen's Arms"

tavern, in St. Paul's Churchyard. Here he used to meet Mr. Sharpe, a surgeon; Mr. Paterson, the City Solicitor; Mr. Draper, a bookseller, and Mr. Clutterbuck, a mercer; and these quiet cool men were his standing council in theatrical affairs, and his gauge of the city taste. They were none of them drinkers, and in order to make a reckoning, called only for French wine. Here Dr. Johnson started a City club, and was particular the members should not be "patriotic." Boswell, who went with him to the "Queen's Arms" club, found the members "very sensible, well-behaved men." Brasbridge, the silversmith of Fleet Street, who wrote his memoirs, has described a sixpenny card club held here at a later date. Among the members was that generous and hospitable man, Henry Baldwin, who, under the auspices of Garrick, the elder Colman, and Bonnell Thornton, started the _St. James's Chronicle_, the most popular evening paper of the day.

"I belonged," says Brasbridge, "to a sixpenny card club, at the 'Queen's Arms,' in St. Paul's Churchyard; it consisted of about twenty members, of whom I am the sole survivor. Among them was Mr. Goodwin, of St.

Paul's Churchyard, a woollen draper, whose constant salutation, when he first came downstairs in the morning, was to his shop, in these words, 'Good morrow, Mr. Shop; you'll take care of me, Mr. Shop, and I'll take care of you.' Another was Mr. Curtis, a respectable stationer, who from very small beginnings left his son 90,000 in one line, besides an estate of near 300 a year."

"The 'Free and Easy under the Rose' was another society which I frequented. It was founded sixty years ago, at the 'Queen's Arms,' in St. Paul's Churchyard, and was afterwards removed to the 'Horn' tavern.

It was originally kept by Bates, who was never so happy as when standing behind a chair with a napkin under his arm; but arriving at the dignity of alderman, tucking in his callipash and calipee himself, instead of handing it round to the company, soon did his business. My excellent friend Briskett, the Marshal of the High Court of Admiralty, was president of this society for many years, and I was constantly in attendance as his vice. It consisted of some thousand members, and I never heard of any one of them that ever incurred any serious punishment. Our great fault was sitting too late; in this respect, according to the principle of Franklin, that 'time is money,' we were most unwary spendthrifts; in other instances, our conduct was orderly and correct."

One of the members in Brasbridge's time was Mr. Hawkins, a worthy but ill-educated spatterdash maker, of Chancery Lane, who daily murdered the king's English. He called an invalid an "individual," and said our troops in America had been "_manured_" to hardship. Another oddity was a Mr. Darwin, a Radical, who one night brought to the club-room a caricature of the head of George III. in a basket; and whom Brasbridge nearly frightened out of his wits by pretending to send one of the waiters for the City Marshal. Darwin was the great chum of Mr. Figgins, a wax-chandler in the Poultry; and as they always entered the room together, Brasbridge gave them the nickname of "Liver and Gizzard." Miss Boydell, when her uncle was Lord Mayor, conferred sham knighthood on Figgins, with a tap of her fan, and he was henceforward known as "Sir Benjamin."

The Churchyard publisher of Cowper's first volume of poems, "Table Talk," and also of "The Task," was a very worthy, liberal man--Joseph Johnson, who also published the "Olney Hymns" for Newton, the scientific writings of the persecuted Priestley, and the smooth, vapid verses of Darwin. Johnson encouraged Fuseli to paint a Milton Gallery, for an edition of the poet to be edited by Cowper. Johnson was imprisoned nine months in the King's Bench, for selling the political writings of Gilbert Wakefield. He, however, bore the oppression of the majority philosophically, and rented the marshal's house, where he gave dinners to his distinguished literary friends.

"Another set of my acquaintances," says Leigh Hunt in his autobiography, "used to a.s.semble on Fridays at the hospitable table of Mr. Hunter, the bookseller, in St. Paul's Churchyard. They were the survivors of the literary party that were accustomed to dine with his predecessor, Mr.

Johnson. The most regular were Fuseli and Bonnycastle. Now and then G.o.dwin was present; oftener Mr. Kinnaird, the magistrate, a great lover of Horace.

"Fuseli was a small man, with energetic features and a white head of hair. Our host's daughter, then a little girl, used to call him the white-headed lion. He combed his hair up from the forehead, and as his whiskers were large his face was set in a kind of hairy frame, which, in addition to the fierceness of his look, really gave him an aspect of that sort. Otherwise his features were rather sharp than round. He would have looked much like an old military officer if his face, besides its real energy, had not affected more. There was the same defect in it as in his pictures. Conscious of not having all the strength he wished, he endeavoured to make up for it by violence and pretension. He carried this so far as to look fiercer than usual when he sat for his picture.

His friend and engraver, Mr. Houghton, drew an admirable likeness of him in this state of dignified extravagance. He is sitting back in his chair, leaning on his hand, but looking ready to pounce withal. His notion of repose was like that of Pistol.

"A student reading in a garden is all over intensity of muscle, and the quiet tea-table scene in Cowper he has turned into a preposterous conspiracy of huge men and women, all bent on showing their thews and postures, with dresses as fantastic as their minds. One gentleman, of the existence of whose trousers you are not aware till you see the terminating line at the ankle, is sitting and looking grim on a sofa, with his hat on and no waistcoat.

"Fuseli was lively and interesting in conversation, but not without his usual faults of violence and pretension. Nor was he always as decorous as an old man ought to be, especially one whose turn of mind is not of the lighter and more pleasurable cast. The licences he took were coa.r.s.e, and had not sufficient regard to his company. Certainly they went a great deal beyond his friend Armstrong, to whose account, I believe, Fuseli's pa.s.sion for swearing was laid. The poet condescended to be a great swearer, and Fuseli thought it energetic to swear like him. His friendship with Bonnycastle had something childlike and agreeable in it.

They came and went away together for years, like a couple of old schoolboys. They also like boys rallied one another, and sometimes made a singular display of it--Fuseli, at least, for it was he who was the aggressor.

"Bonnycastle was a good fellow. He was a tall, gaunt, long-headed man, with large features and spectacles, and a deep internal voice, with a tw.a.n.g of rusticity in it; and he goggled over his plate like a horse. I often thought that a bag of corn would have hung well on him. His laugh was equine, and showed his teeth upwards at the sides. Wordsworth, who notices similar mysterious manifestations on the part of donkeys, would have thought it ominous. Bonnycastle was extremely fond of quoting Shakespeare and telling stories, and if the _Edinburgh Review_ had just come out, would have given us all the jokes in it. He had once a hypochondriacal disorder of long duration, and he told us that he should never forget the comfortable sensation given him one night during this disorder by his knocking a landlord that was insolent to him down the man's staircase. On the strength of this piece of energy (having first ascertained that the offender was not killed) he went to bed, and had a sleep of unusual soundness.

"It was delightful one day to hear him speak with complacency of a translation which had appeared in Arabic, and which began by saying, on the part of the translator, that it pleased G.o.d, for the advancement of human knowledge, to raise us up a Bonnycastle.

"Kinnaird, the magistrate, was a sanguine man, under the middle height, with a fine lamping black eye, lively to the last, and a body that 'had increased, was increasing, and ought to have been diminished,' which is by no means what he thought of the prerogative. Next to his bottle, he was fond of his Horace, and, in the intervals of business at the police office, would enjoy both in his arm-chair. Between the vulgar calls of this kind of magistracy and the perusal of the urbane Horace there must have been a quota of contradiction, which the bottle, perhaps, was required to render quite palatable."

Mr. Charles Knight's pleasant book, "Shadows of the Old Booksellers,"

also reminds us of another of the great Churchyard booksellers, John Rivington and Sons, at the "Bible and Crown." They published, in 1737, an early sermon of Whitefield's, before he left the Church, and were booksellers to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge; and to this shop country clergymen invariably went to buy their theology, or to publish their own sermons.

In St. Paul's Churchyard (says Sir John Hawkins, in his "History of Music") were formerly many shops where music and musical instruments were sold, for which, at this time, no better reason can be given than that the service at the Cathedral drew together, twice a day, all the lovers of music in London--not to mention that the choirmen were wont to a.s.semble there, and were met by their friends and acquaintances.

Jeremiah Clark, a composer of sacred music, who shot himself in his house in St. Paul's Churchyard, was educated in the Royal Chapel, under Dr. Blow, who entertained so great a friendship for him as to resign in his favour his place of Master of the Children and Almoner of St.

Paul's, Clark being appointed his successor, in 1693, and shortly afterwards he became organist of the cathedral. "In July, 1700," says Sir John Hawkins, "he and his fellow pupils were appointed Gentlemen Extraordinary of the Royal Chapel; and in 1704 they were jointly admitted to the place of organist thereof, in the room of Mr. Francis Piggot. Clark had the misfortune to entertain a hopeless pa.s.sion for a very beautiful lady, in a station of life far above him; his despair of success threw him into a deep melancholy; in short, he grew weary of his life, and on the first day of December, 1707, shot himself. He was determined upon this method of putting an end to his life by an event which, strange as it may seem, is attested by the late Mr. Samuel Weeley, one of the lay-vicars of St. Paul's, who was very intimate with him, and had heard him relate it. Being at the house of a friend in the country, he took an abrupt resolution to return to London; this friend having observed in his behaviour marks of great dejection, furnished him with a horse and a servant. Riding along the road, a fit of melancholy seized him, upon which he alighted, and giving the servant his horse to hold, went into a field, in a corner whereof was a pond, and also trees, and began a debate with himself whether he should then end his days by hanging or drowning. Not being able to resolve on either, he thought of making what he looked upon as chance the umpire, and drew out of his pocket a piece of money, and tossing it into the air, it came down on its edge, and stuck in the clay. Though the determination answered not his wish, it was far from ambiguous, as it seemed to forbid both methods of destruction, and would have given unspeakable comfort to a mind less disordered than his was. Being thus interrupted in his purpose, he returned, and mounting his horse, rode on to London, and in a short time after shot himself. He dwelt in a house in St. Paul's Churchyard, situate on the place where the Chapter-house now stands. Old Mr. Reading was pa.s.sing by at the instant the pistol went off, and entering the house, found his friend in the agonies of death.

"The compositions of Clark are few. His anthems are remarkably pathetic, at the same time that they preserve the dignity and majesty of the church style. The most celebrated of them are 'I will love thee,'

printed in the second book of the 'Harmonia Sacra;' 'Bow down thine ear,' and 'Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem.'

"The only works of Clark published by himself are lessons for the harpsichord and sundry songs, which are to be found in the collections of that day, particularly in the 'Pills to Purge Melancholy,' but they are there printed without the ba.s.ses. He also composed for D'Urfey's comedy of 'The Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters,' that sweet ballad air, 'The bonny grey-eyed Morn,' which Mr. Gay has introduced into 'The Beggar's Opera,' and is sung to the words, ''Tis woman that seduces all mankind.'"

"Mattheson, of Hamburg," says Hawkins, "had sent over to England, in order to their being published here, two collections of lessons for the harpsichord, and they were accordingly engraved on copper, and printed for Richard Meares, in St. Paul's Churchyard, and published in the year 1714. Handel was at this time in London, and in the afternoon was used to frequent St. Paul's Church for the sake of hearing the service, and of playing on the organ after it was over; from whence he and some of the gentlemen of the choir would frequently adjourn to the 'Queen's Arms' tavern, in St. Paul's Churchyard, where was a harpsichord. It happened one afternoon, when they were thus met together, Mr. Weeley, a gentleman of the choir, came in and informed them that Mr. Mattheson's lessons were then to be had at Mr. Meares's shop; upon which Mr. Handel ordered them immediately to be sent for, and upon their being brought, played them all over without rising from the instrument."

"There dwelt," says Sir John Hawkins, "at the west corner of London House Yard, in St. Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the 'Dolphin and Crown,' one John Young, a maker of violins and other musical instruments. This man had a son, whose Christian name was Talbot, who had been brought up with Greene in St. Paul's choir, and had attained to great proficiency on the violin, as Greene had on the harpsichord. The merits of the two Youngs, father and son, are celebrated in the following quibbling verses, which were set to music in the form of a catch, printed in the pleasant 'Musical Companion,' published in 1726:--

"'You sc.r.a.pers that want a good fiddle well strung, You must go to the man that is old while he's young; But if this same fiddle you fain would play bold, You must go to his son, who'll be young when he's old.

There's old Young and young Young, both men of renown, Old sells and young plays the best fiddle in town.

Young and old live together, and may they live long, Young to play an old fiddle, old to sell a new song.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: EXECUTION OF FATHER GARNET (_see page 265_.])

"This young man, Talbot Young, together with Greene and several persons, had weekly meetings at his father's house, for practice of music. The fame of this performance spread far and wide; and in a few winters the resort of gentlemen performers was greater than the house would admit of; a small subscription was set on foot, and they removed to the 'Queen's Head' tavern, in Paternoster Row. Here they were joined by Mr. Woolaston and his friends, and also by a Mr. Franckville, a fine performer on the viol de Gamba. And after a few winters, being grown rich enough to hire additional performers, they removed, in the year 1724, to the 'Castle,' in Paternoster Row, which was adorned with a picture of Mr. Young, painted by Woolaston.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL (_see page 272_).]