THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL
Hitherto our exploration of the Scott country had revealed a
never-ending succession of ruined castles, palaces, and abbeys; of
picturesque rivers, lakes, cataracts, and quiet pools; of seashores
where thunderous waves dashed against precipitous cliffs; of quaint
villages and queer-looking dwelling-houses; of weird caverns and
strange monuments suggesting the superstitions and fantasies of bygone
ages; of pleasant meadows, wild moors, rounded hilltops, and rugged
mountains; of a thousand tangible objects of interest which had in some
way suggested to Sir Walter the theme for a poem or story. But when we
reached Scott's London, the camera, which had faithfully recorded all
the other scenes, refused to perform its function. The tangibleness of
the subjects had ceased. My lenses have excellent physical eyes but no
historical insight. They insist upon seeing things as they are and
will not record them as they once existed. The London of Nigel
Olifaunt has completely disappeared and in its place a new London has
arisen. To photograph the city of to-day as the scenes of Nigel's
adventures, would be like painting the 'Purchase of Manhattan Island
from the Indians' with a background of fifty-story 'sky-scrapers.' From
such a task my faithful camera shrank, and I was obliged to lay it
aside, to turn over, for several days, the pages of {317} some huge
piles of books on Old London in the British Museum.
Lockhart, who places 'The Fortunes of Nigel' in the first class of
Scott's romances, says that his historical portrait of King James I
'stands forth preëminent and almost alone.' This, indeed, is the whole
object of the book,--to picture the London of King James and the
personal peculiarities of that monarch. Scott was thoroughly
saturated--so to speak--with the history and literature of that period,
and especially with the dramas of Ben Jonson and his contemporaries;
and this enabled him to picture the manners of the time almost as if
they were within his personal recollection.
It is an amusing portrait of a pompous, strutting, and absurd monarch
who yet possessed enough learning, as well as ready wit, to gain the
title of 'the wisest fool in Christendom.' Through his famous tutor at
Stirling Castle, George Buchanan, who freely boxed the royal ears and
administered spankings the same as to other boys, the King had early
acquired a certain taste for learning. He evinced a fondness for the
classics and yearned to become a poet. He wrote in verse a paraphrase
of the Revelation of St. John and a version of the Psalms, besides
prose disquisitions on every conceivable subject. His conversation, as
described by Scott, was a curious compound of Latin, Greek, English,
and the broad Scotch dialect. His tastes, as well as character, were
suggested by the appearance of a table in the palace, which, says the
novelist, 'was loaded with huge folios, amongst which lay light books
of jest and ribaldry; and, amongst notes of unmercifully long orations,
and essays on kingcraft, were mingled miserable roundels {318} and
ballads by the Royal 'Prentice, as he styled himself, in the art of
poetry, and schemes for the general pacification of Europe, with a list
of the names of the King's hounds, and remedies against canine madness.'
A man of medium height and somewhat corpulent, James managed to make
his figure seem absurdly fat and clumsy, by having his green velvet
dress quilted, so as to be dagger-proof, for he was both timid and
cowardly. The ungainly protuberance thus artificially acquired was
accentuated by a pair of weak legs, which caused him to roll about
rather than walk, and to lean on other men's shoulders when standing.
'He was fond of his dignity while he was perpetually degrading it by
undue familiarity; capable of much public labour, yet often neglecting
it for the meanest amusement; a wit, though a pedant; and a scholar,
though fond of the conversation of the ignorant and uneducated.'
[Illustration: Sketch Map of London]
Contrasting strongly with this weak and ludicrous character, Scott
introduced the sterling qualities of a noble Scotchman, George Heriot,
to whom Edinburgh is indebted for one of her most splendid benevolent
institutions, Heriot's Hospital, where for nearly three centuries the
poor fatherless boys of the city have been transformed into eminent and
useful citizens, honoured and respected in many parts of the world.
George Heriot, nicknamed by the King 'Jingling Geordie,' was the son of
an Edinburgh goldsmith, to whose business he succeeded. At thirty-six
years of age he had the good fortune to be appointed goldsmith to Queen
Anne, and shortly after, goldsmith and jeweller to her husband, then
James VI of Scotland. On his accession to the English throne as James
I, in 1603, Heriot followed the King {319} to London. In those times,
and until the eighteenth century, goldsmiths commonly acted as bankers.
Heriot made full use of his unusual opportunity and laid the foundation
of a large fortune. Disheartened by the loss of his young and
beautiful wife, who died at the age of twenty-one, Heriot made a will
leaving his entire property, amounting to £23,625, for the
establishment of the hospital. His picture is thus described in a
quotation copied by Scott in one of his notes: 'His fair hair, which
overshades the thoughtful brow and calm, calculating eye, with the cast
of humour on the lower part of the countenance, are all indicative of
the genuine Scottish character, and well distinguish a person fitted to
move steadily and wisely through the world, with a strength of
resolution to ensure success and a disposition to enjoy it.'
The weakness of James is still further accentuated in the novel by the
introduction of his imperious favourite, George Villiers, the first
Duke of Buckingham, whom the King called 'Steenie,' from his fancied
resemblance to the portrait of the martyr, Stephen, as painted by the
Italian artists. 'James endured his domination rather from habit,
timidity, and a dread of encountering his stormy passions, than from
any heartfelt continuation of regard towards him.' The King's favour,
nevertheless, made Buckingham the richest nobleman in England (with
possibly a single exception) and the virtual ruler of the kingdom. The
constant companion of the Duke was Baby Charles, as James insisted upon
calling his son, afterward King Charles I, for whose ruin and death on
the scaffold James was himself, all unconsciously, rapidly paving the
way. David Ramsay, the whimsical {320} and absent-minded watchmaker,
who kept shop in Fleet Street, near Temple Bar, was a real character,
who held the post of 'watchmaker and horologer' to James I. His most
famous performance was a search for hidden treasure in the cloister of
Westminster Abbey, by the use of Mosaic rods, or divining rods, which,
according to the current account, failed solely because of the presence
of too many people. The irreverent laughter of these persons caused a
fierce wind to spring up so suddenly that 'the demons had to be
dismissed' for fear the church would fall in on them.
These are the real characters of the story. To identify the scenes a
good map of Old London, will accomplish more than a personal visit.
Such a map need only follow the windings of the Thames, which for
centuries was the great silent highway of London,--a distinction which
it did not lose until the beginning of the nineteenth century. Over
the highway passed the royal barge of Elizabeth, as described in
'Kenilworth,' and it was by this same method of travelling that George
Heriot conducted his young friend, Nigel, to the presence of the King
at Whitehall. For the streets of the city were narrow and crowded, and
rioting, as the result of debauchery and licentiousness, was not
infrequent, so that few cared to ride on horseback, and carriages,
except for the high nobility, were entirely unknown. So the Thames was
the one great artery through which flowed both the business and social
life of the city.
When King George and Queen Mary, at the recent coronation, passing
through the Admiralty Arch in Trafalgar Square, turned into Whitehall
on their way to Westminster Abbey, their route lay between great {321}
rows of government buildings, lined with thousands of cheering
subjects. Had conditions remained as they were in King James's time,
this part of the triumphal procession would have been entirely within
the limits of their own royal palace.
Whitehall Palace, originally built in 1240, was for three centuries
called York House, or York Place, taking its name from the fact that it
was the London residence of the Archbishop of York. Under Cardinal
Wolsey it was rebuilt and refurnished in a style of magnificence
excelling anything ever before known in England and equal in splendour
to the best in the palaces of the kings. With the fall of Wolsey in
1529 the mansion became the property of King Henry VIII, who changed
the name to Whitehall, and proceeded to enlarge and improve both the
palace and the grounds. A plan published in 1680 shows that the
buildings, with their courtyards and areas, then covered twenty-three
acres. It included a cock-pit and a tennis-court, on the site of the
present Treasury buildings, and the Horse-Guards Parade was then a
tilt-yard. These arrangements sufficiently suggest some of the
favourite amusements of royalty. Henry VIII took great delight in
cock-fighting and James I amused himself with it regularly twice a
week. Queen Elizabeth found pleasure in tournaments and pageants, and
it is recorded that in the sixty-seventh year of her age she 'commanded
the bear, the bull, and the ape to be bayted in the Tilt-yard.'[1]
King James I found the palace in bad repair and determined to rebuild
it on a vast and magnificent scale. {322} Inigo Jones, one of the most
famous architects of his time, was employed and made plans for a
building, which, if completed, would have covered an area of
twenty-four acres. Judging from drawings now in the British Museum, it
seems a pity that this admirable project was never fully executed.
Only the banqueting-hall was finished, and this still remains as the
sole survivor of the Palace of Whitehall. Its chief historical
interest lies in the fact that, from one of its windows, Charles I
stepped out upon the scaffold where he was beheaded.
If we were to follow ancient custom and use the Thames for our highway,
as did two hundred peers and peeresses at the late coronation, we
should now row down the river and land at Charing Cross Pier, where we
should find the remnant of the sumptuous palace built by 'Steenie,' the
Duke of Buckingham. This is the York Water Gate, formerly the entrance
to the Duke's mansion from the Thames, but now high above the water,
overlooking the garden of the Victoria Embankment.
Continuing down the river, we should stop at Temple Pier, and visit the
Temple Gardens, where Nigel walked in despair, after his encounter with
Lord Dalgarno in St. James's Park, and where, it will be remembered, he
fell in with the friendly Templar, Reginald Lowestoffe. The Temple
property was granted in 1609 by James I to the benchers of the Inner
and Middle Temple for the education of students and professors of the
law. Oliver Goldsmith lived in Middle Temple Lane, and in the same
house, Sir William Blackstone, the great English jurist, and William
Makepeace Thackeray, also had chambers. {323} Dr. Johnson lived in
Inner Temple Lane, as did Charles Lamb, who was born within the Temple.
Coming out into Fleet Street, we should stand before the figure of a
griffin on a high pedestal, which marks the site of Temple Bar. In
Scott's time it was an arch crossing the street, and in the time of
King James, merely a barricade of posts and chains. When the
coronation procession passed this point, King George V, according to
ancient custom, paused to receive permission from the Lord Mayor to
enter the City of London. The civic sword was presented to the King
and immediately returned to the Lord Mayor, after which the procession
resumed its march.
Within Temple Bar and on the north side of Fleet Street, between Fetter
Lane and Chancery Lane, is St. Dunstan's Church, built in 1832 on the
site of an older church building. A few yards to the eastward,
according to Scott, was the shop of David Ramsay, the watch-maker,
before which the two 'stout-bodied and strong-voiced' apprentices kept
up the shouts of 'What d'ye lack? what d' ye lack?'--very much after
the fashion of a modern 'barker.' This was the opening scene of the
novel, though not suggested in the slightest by the Fleet Street of
to-day.
On the opposite side a narrow lane, called Bouverie Street, leads down
toward the river along the eastern boundary of The Temple, into
'Whitefriars,' or Alsatia, where Nigel was compelled to take refuge for
a time in the house of the old miser, Trapbois. The 'Friars of the
Blessed Virgin of Mount Carmel,' otherwise known as the 'White Friars,'
established their London house in 1241, between Fleet Street and the
Thames, on land {324} granted by Edward I. This carried with it the
privileges of sanctuary or immunity from arrest, which were allowed to
the inhabitants long after the dissolution of the religious houses.
Indeed, before the suppression of the monastery, the persons of bad
repute, who had flocked to the district in great numbers, were wont to
make so much disturbance with their continual clamours and outcries,
that the friars complained that they could not conduct divine service.
The privilege was confirmed by James I, and in his time, as a
consequence, 'Alsatia,' as the district came to be called, was one of
the worst quarters in London. It was the common habitation of thieves,
gamblers, swindlers, murderers, bullies, and drunken, dissipated
reprobates of both sexes. Its atmosphere, thick with the fogs of the
river, fairly reeked with the smell of alehouses of the lowest order,
which outnumbered all the other houses. The shouts of rioters, the
profane songs and boisterous laughter of the revellers, mingled with
the wailing of children and the screaming of women. The men were
'shaggy, uncombed ruffians whose enormous mustaches were turned back
over their ears,' and they swaggered through the dirty streets,
quarrelling, brawling, fighting, swearing, and 'smoking like moving
volcanoes.' They waged a ceaseless warfare against their proud and
noisy, but not so disreputable, neighbours of The Temple.
Coming back to our imaginary trip by river (for we really visited these
sites either on foot or by taxi-cab), we continue down the river,
passing under Blackfriars Bridge, and stop for a moment at Paul's
Wharf, near where Nigel found quarters in the house of John Christie,
the honest ship-chandler. Journeying {325} onward, we pass under
London Bridge, which in James's time was the only means of crossing the
river, other than by boat. It was then overloaded with a great weight
of huge buildings, many stories high, under which passed a narrow
roadway. At the southern entrance was a gate, the top of which was
decorated with the heads of traitors. All the buildings were finally
cleared away in 1757 and 1758.
Passing under London Bridge we soon come to the Tower of London, which
the unfortunate Nigel entered through the Traitor's Gate. From the
time of William the Conqueror, by whom its foundations were begun,
until the reign of Charles II, the Tower of London was used as a palace
by the kings of England. It has been said that the 'strong monarchs
employed the Tower as a prison, the weak ones as a fortress.' It was
as a prison that the Tower achieved its unenviable fame in history as
London's lasting shame;
With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
In its dark precincts many of the noblest of England's men and women
found themselves prisoners, the majority of them perishing upon the
block. Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard, wives of Henry VIII; Lady
Jane Grey and her husband Guildford Dudley; the father[2] and the
grandfather[3] of Dudley; and Sir Walter Raleigh were among the most
famous of these victims. Nigel was confined in the Beauchamp Tower,
where many distinguished persons were imprisoned. The inscriptions to
which Scott refers may still be seen, including that {326} of Lady Jane
Grey, though it is probable that this was written by her husband or by
his brother, who is supposed to have carved the device of the bear and
ragged staff, 'the emblem of the proud Dudleys,' which is an elaborate
piece of sculpture on the right of the fireplace.
To complete our survey of the scenery of 'The Fortunes of Nigel,' we
have to continue our journey down the Thames until we land in Greenwich
Hospital and the Royal Naval College, which occupy the site of the old
royal palace, formerly called Placentia or Pleasaunce. It was a
favourite royal palace as early as 1300, though it passed into the
hands of the nobility and came back to the Crown in 1433 on the death
of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. It was the birthplace of King Henry
VIII and of Mary and Elizabeth. The building was enlarged by Henry
VIII, James I, and Charles I. Charles II caused it to be pulled down,
intending to carry out some ambitious plan, but succeeded in erecting
only the building which is now the west wing of the hospital. Back of
the palace is an extensive park of one hundred and ninety acres. This
is where Nigel unexpectedly encountered the King, at the very climax of
a stag-hunt, frightening him nearly to death; and here he was
unceremoniously arrested and hurried off to the Tower. The park still
has herds of deer, though they are no longer hunted, and a row of fine
old chestnuts, originally planted by command of Charles II, who laid
out the enclosure. In the centre is a hill, surmounted by the famous
Royal Greenwich Observatory, from whose meridian longitude is reckoned
and whose clock determines the standard of time for all England.
Just as 'The Heart of Midlothian' had produced {327} a vivid picture of
life in Edinburgh during the reign of George II, so 'The Fortunes of
Nigel' reproduced the life of London in the time of King James. For
this brilliant study, not only of the curious monarch, but of the
strange manners and customs as well as the lawlessness of the city,
which the King's folly did so much to create, the novel has been
generally accorded a very high rank among Scott's productions.
[1] Quoted from Sydney's 'State Papers,' in _The Old Royal Palace of
Whitehall_, by Edgar Sheppard, D.D.
[2] John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland.
[3] Edmund Dudley, the notorious agent of King Henry VII.
{328}