ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.
St. Paul's Churchyard and Literature--Queen Anne's Statue--Execution of
a Jesuit in St. Paul's Churchyard--Miracle of the "Face in the
Straw"--Wilkinson's Story--Newbery the Bookseller--Paul's
Chain--"Cocker"--Chapter House of St. Paul's--St. Paul's Coffee
House--Child's Coffee House and the Clergy--Garrick's Club at the
"Queen's Arms," and the Company there--"Sir Benjamin" Figgins--Johnson the
Bookseller--Hunter and his Guests--Fuseli--Bonnycastle--Kinnaird--Musical
Associations of the Churchyard--Jeremiah Clark and his Works--Handel at
Meares' Shop--Young the Violin Maker--The "Castle" Concerts--An Old
Advertisement--Wren at the "Goose and Gridiron"--St. Paul's School--Famous
Paulines--Pepys visiting his Old School--Milton at St. Paul's.
The shape of St. Paul's Churchyard has been compared to that of a bow
and a string. The south side is the bow, the north the string. The
booksellers overflowing from Fleet Street mustered strong here, till the
Fire scared them off to Little Britain, from whence they regurgitated to
the Row. At the sign of the "White Greyhound" the first editions of
Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis" and "The Rape of Lucrece," the
first-fruits of a great harvest, were published by John Harrison. At the
"Flower de Luce" and the "Crown" appeared the _Merry Wives of Windsor_;
at the "Green Dragon," in the same locality, the _Merchant of Venice_;
at the "Fox," _Richard II._; at the "Angel," _Richard III._; at the
"Gun," _Titus Andronicus_; and at the "Red Bull," that masterpiece,
_King Lear_. So that in this area near the Row the great poet must have
paced with his first proofs in his doublet-pocket, wondering whether he
should ever rival Spenser, or become immortal, like Chaucer. Here he
must have come smiling over Falstaff's perils, and here have walked
with the ripened certainty of greatness and of fame stirring at his
heart.
The ground-plot of the Cathedral is 2 acres 16 perches 70 feet. The
western area of the churchyard marks the site of St. Gregory's Church.
On the mean statue of Queen Anne a scurrilous epigram was once written
by some ribald Jacobite, who spoke of the queen--
"With her face to the brandy-shop and her back to the church."
The precinct wall of St. Paul's first ran from Ave Maria Lane eastward
along Paternoster Row to the old Exchange, Cheapside, and then
southwards to Carter Lane, at the end of which it turned to Ludgate
Archway. In the reign of Edward II. the Dean and Chapter, finding the
precinct a resort of thieves and courtesans, rebuilt and purified it.
Within, at the north-west corner, stood the bishop's palace, beyond
which, eastward, was Pardon Churchyard and Becket Chapel, rebuilt with a
stately cloister in the reign of Henry V. On the walls of this
cloister, pulled down by the greedy Protector Somerset (Edward VI.), was
painted one of those grim Dances of Death which Holbein at last carried
to perfection. The cloister was full of monuments, and above was a
library. In an enclosure east of this stood the College of Minor Canons;
and at Canon Alley, east, was a burial chapel called the Charnel, from
whence Somerset sent cart-loads of bones to Finsbury Fields. East of
Canon Alley stood Paul's Cross, where open-air sermons were preached to
the citizens, and often to the reigning monarch. East of it rose St.
Paul's School and a belfrey tower, in which hung the famous Jesus bells,
won at dice by Sir Giles Partridge from that Ahab of England, Henry
VIII. On the south side stood the Dean and Chapter's garden, dormitory,
refectory, kitchen, slaughterhouse, and brewery. These eventually
yielded to a cloister, near which, abutting on the cathedral wall, stood
the chapter-house and the Church of St. Gregory. Westward were the
houses of the residentiaries; and the deanery, according to Milman, an
excellent authority, stood on its present site. The precinct had six
gates--the first and chief in Ludgate Street; the second in Paul's
Alley, leading to Paternoster Row; the third in Canon Alley, leading to
the north door; the fourth, a little gate leading to Cheapside; the
fifth, the Augustine gate, leading to Watling Street; the sixth, on the
south side, by Paul's Chain. On the south tower of the west front was
the Lollard's Tower, a bishop's prison for ecclesiastical offenders.
The 2,500 railings of the churchyard and the seven ornamental gates,
weighing altogether two hundred tons, were cast in Kent, and cost 6d. a
pound. The whole cost L11,202 0s. 6d.
In 1606 St. Paul's Churchyard was the scene of the execution of Father
Garnet, one of the Gunpowder Plot conspirators--the only execution, as
far as we know, that ever desecrated that spot. It is very doubtful,
after all, whether Garnet was cognizant that the plot was really to be
carried out, though he may have strongly suspected some dangerous and
deadly conspiracy, and the Roman Catholics were prepared to see miracles
wrought at his death.
On the 3rd day of May, 1606 (to condense Dr. Abbott's account), Garnet
was drawn upon a hurdle, according to the usual practice, to his place
of execution. The Recorder of London, the Dean of St. Paul's, and the
Dean of Winchester were present, by command of the King--the former in
the King's name, and the two latter in the name of God and Christ, to
assist Garnet with such advice as suited the condition of a dying man.
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 God 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 multitude. 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 damnable; 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." "God 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
circumstances in Essex." "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."
[Illustration: 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 damnable."
[Illustration: "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
manus 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 pass 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
God 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
quantity 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 noble
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 God 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 Cocker--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 compassion, and with a prescient eye
for the future, purposely omitted to strip off his cassock, 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, "entitles 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 L90,000 in one line, besides an
estate of near L300 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 assemble 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
Godwin 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 coarse,
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 passion 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
twang 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 God, 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
assemble 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 passion 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 passing 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 basses. 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 scrapers 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.'
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: OLD ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL (_see page 272_).]
"The 'Castle' concerts continuing to flourish for many years, auditors
as well as performers were admitted subscribers, and tickets were
delivered out to the members in rotation for the admission of ladies.
Their fund enabling them, they hired second-rate singers from the
operas, and many young persons of professions and trades that depended
upon a numerous acquaintance, were induced by motives of interest to
become members of the 'Castle' concert.
"Mr. Young continued to perform in this society till the declining state
of his health obliged him to quit it; after which time Prospero
Castrucci and other eminent performers in succession continued to lead
the band. About the year 1744, at the instance of an alderman of
London, now deservedly forgotten, the subscription was raised from two
guineas to five, for the purpose of performing oratorios. From the
'Castle' this society removed to Haberdashers' Hall, where they
continued for fifteen or sixteen years; from thence they removed to the'
King's Arms,' in Cornhill."
A curious old advertisement of 1681 relates to St. Paul's
Alley:--"Whereas the yearly meeting of the name of Adam hath of late,
through the deficiency of the last stewards, been neglected, these are
to give notice to all gentlemen and others that are of that name that at
William Adam's, commonly called the 'Northern Ale-house,' in St. Paul's
Alley, in St. Paul's Churchyard, there will be a weekly meeting, every
Monday night, of our namesakes, between the hours of six and eight of
the clock in the evening, in order to choose stewards to revive our
antient and annual feast."--_Domestic Intelligence_, 1681.
During the building of St. Paul's, Wren was the zealous Master of the
St. Paul's Freemason's Lodge, which assembled at the "Goose and
Gridiron," one of the most ancient lodges in London. He presided
regularly at its meetings for upwards of eighteen years. He presented
the lodge with three beautifully carved mahogany candlesticks, and the
trowel and mallet which he used in laying the first stone of the great
cathedral in 1675. In 1688 Wren was elected Grand Master of the order,
and he nominated his old fellow-workers at St. Paul's, Cibber, the
sculptor, and Strong, the master mason, Grand Wardens. In Queen Anne's
reign there were 129 lodges--eighty-six in London, thirty-six in
provincial cities, and seven abroad. Many of the oldest lodges in London
are in the neighbourhood of St. Paul's.
"At the 'Apple Tree' Tavern," say Messrs. Hotten and Larwood, in their
history of "Inn and Tavern Signs," "in Charles Street, Covent Garden, in
1716, four of the leading London Freemasons' lodges, considering
themselves neglected by Sir Christopher Wren, met and chose a Grand
Master, _pro tem._, until they should be able to place a noble brother
at the head, which they did the year following, electing the Duke of
Montague. Sir Christopher had been chosen in 1698. The three lodges that
joined with the 'Apple Tree' lodge used to meet respectively at the
'Goose and Gridiron,' St. Paul's Churchyard; the 'Crown,' Parker's Lane;
and at the 'Rummer and Grapes' Tavern, Westminster. The 'Goose and
Gridiron' occurs at Woodhall, Lincolnshire, and in a few other
localities. It is said to owe its origin to the following
circumstances--The 'Mitre' was a celebrated music-house in London House
Yard, at the north-west end of St. Paul's. When it ceased to be a
music-house, the succeeding landlord, to ridicule its former destiny,
chose for his sign a goose striking the bars of a gridiron with his
foot, in ridicule of the 'Swan and Harp,' a common sign for the early
music-houses. Such an origin does the _Tatler_ give; but it may also be
a vernacular reading of the coat of arms of the Company of Musicians,
suspended probably at the door of the 'Mitre' when it was a music-house.
These arms are a swan with his wings expanded, within a double tressure,
counter, flory, argent. This double tressure might have suggested a
gridiron to unsophisticated passers-by.
"The celebrated 'Mitre,' near the west end of St. Paul's, was the first
music-house in London. The name of the master was Robert Herbert,
_alias_ Farges. Like many brother publicans, he was, besides being a
lover of music, also a collector of natural curiosities, as appears by
his 'Catalogue of many natural rarities, collected with great industrie,
cost, and thirty years' travel into foreign countries, collected by
Robert Herbert, _alias_ Farges, gent., and sworn servant to his Majesty;
to be seen at the place called the Music-house, _at the Mitre_, near the
west end of S. Paul's Church, 1664.' This collection, or, at least, a
great part of it, was bought by Sir Hans Sloane. It is conjectured that
the 'Mitre' was situated in London House Yard, at the north-west end of
St. Paul's, on the spot where afterwards stood the house known by the
sign of the 'Goose and Gridiron.'"
St. Paul's School, known to cathedral visitors chiefly by that murky,
barred-in, purgatorial playground opposite the east end of Wren's great
edifice, is of considerable antiquity, for it was founded in 1512 by
that zealous patron of learning, and friend of Erasmus, Dean Colet. This
liberal-minded man was the eldest of twenty-two children, all of whom he
survived. His father was a City mercer, who was twice Lord Mayor of
London. Colet became Dean of St. Paul's in 1505, and soon afterwards (as
Latimer tells us) narrowly escaped burning for his opposition to
image-worship. Having no near relatives, Colet, in 1509, began to found
St. Paul's School, adapted to receive 153 poor boys (the number of
fishes taken by Peter in the miraculous draught). The building is said
to have cost L4,500, and was endowed with lands in Buckinghamshire
estimated by Stow, in 1598, as of the yearly value of L120 or better,
and now worth L12,000, with a certainty of rising.
No children were to be admitted into the school but such as could say
their catechism, and read and write competently. Each child was
required to pay fourpence on his first admission to the school, which
sum was to be given to the "poor scholar" who swept the school and kept
the seats clean. The hours of study were to be from seven till eleven in
the morning, and from one to five in the afternoon, with prayers in the
morning, at noon, and in the evening. It was expressly stipulated that
the pupils should never use tallow candles, but only wax, and those "at
the cost of their friends." The most remarkable statute of the school is
that by which the scholars were bound on Christmas-day to attend at St.
Paul's Church and hear the child-bishop sermon, and after be at the high
mass, and each of them offer one penny to the child-bishop. When Dean
Colet was asked why he had left his foundation in trust to laymen (the
Mercers' Company), as tenants of his father, rather than to an
ecclesiastical foundation, he answered, "that there was no absolute
certainty in human affairs, but, for his part, he found less corruption
in such a body of citizens than in any other order or degree of
mankind."
Erasmus, after describing the foundation and the school, which he calls
"a magnificent structure, to which were attached two dwelling-houses for
the masters," proceeds to say, "He divided the school into four
chambers. The first--namely, the porch and entrance--in which the
chaplain teaches, where no child is to be admitted who cannot read and
write; the second apartment is for those who are taught by the
under-master; the third is for the boys of the upper form, taught by the
high master. These two parts of the school are divided by a curtain, to
be drawn at will. Over the headmaster's chair is an image of the boy
Jesus, a beautiful work, in the gesture of teaching, whom all the
scholars, going and departing, salute with a hymn. There is a
representation of God the Father, also, saying, 'Hear ye him,' which
words were written at my suggestion."
"The last apartment is a little chapel for divine service. In the whole
school there are no corners or hiding-places; neither a dining nor a
sleeping place. Each boy has his own place, one above another. Every
class or form contains sixteen boys, and he that is at the head of a
class has a little seat, by way of pre-eminence."
Erasmus, who took a great interest in St. Paul's School, drew up a
grammar, and other elementary books of value, for his friend Colet, who
had for one of his masters William Lily, "the model of grammarians."
Colet's masters were always to be married men.
The school thus described shared in the Great Fire of 1666, and was
rebuilt by the Mercers' Company in 1670. This second structure was
superseded by the present edifice, designed and erected by George Smith,
Esq., the architect of the Mercers' Company. It has the advantage of two
additional masters' houses, and a large cloister for a playground
underneath the school.
On occasions of the sovereigns of England, or other royal or
distinguished persons, going in state through the City, a balcony is
erected in front of this building, whence addresses from the school are
presented to the illustrious visitors by the head boys. The origin of
this right or custom of the Paulines is not known, but it is of some
antiquity. Addresses were so presented to Charles V. and Henry VIII., in
1522; to Queen Elizabeth, 1558; and to Queen Victoria, when the Royal
Exchange was opened, in 1844. Her Majesty, however, preferred to receive
the address at the next levee; and this precedent was followed when the
multitudes of London rushed to welcome the Prince of Wales and Princess
Alexandra, in 1863.
The ancient school-room was on a level with the street, the modern one
is built over the cloister. It is a finely-proportioned apartment, and
has several new class-rooms adjoining, erected upon a plan proposed by
Dr. Kynaston, the present headmaster. At the south end of this noble
room, above the master's chair, is a bust of the founder by Roubiliac.
Over the seat is inscribed, "Intendas animum studiis et rebus honestis,"
and over the entrance to the room is the quaint and appropriate
injunction found at Winchester and other public schools--"Doce, disce,
aut discede."
St. Paul's School has an excellent library immediately adjoining the
school-room, to which the eighth class have access out of school-hours,
the six seniors occupying places in it in school-time.
In 1602 the masters' stipends were enlarged, and the surplus money set
apart for college exhibitions. The head master receives L900 a year, the
second master L400. The education is entirely gratuitous. The
presentations to the school are in the gift of the Master of the
Mercers' Company, which company has undoubtedly much limited Dean
Colet's generous intentions. The school is rich in prizes and
exhibitions. The latest chronicler of the Paulines says:--
"Few public schools can claim to have educated more men who figure
prominently in English history than St. Paul's School. Sir Edward North,
founder of the noble family of that name; Sir William Paget, who from
being the son of a serjeant-at-mace became privy councillor to four
successive sovereigns, and acquired the title now held by his
descendant, the owner of Beaudesert; and John Leland, the celebrated
archaeologist; William Whitaker, one of the earliest and most prominent
chaplains of the Reformation; William Camden, antiquarian and herald;
the immortal John Milton; Samuel Pepys; Robert Nelson, author of the
'Companion to the Festivals and Fasts of the Church of England;' Dr.
Benjamin Calamy; Sir John Trevor, Master of the Rolls and Speaker of the
House of Commons; John, the great Duke of Marlborough; Halley, the great
astronomer; the gallant but unfortunate Major Andre; Sir Philip Francis;
Sir Charles Wetherell; Sir Frederick Pollock, the late Lord Chief Baron;
Lord Chancellor Truro; and the distinguished Greek Professor at Oxford,
Benjamin Jowett."
Pepys seems to have been very fond of his old school. In 1659, he goes
on Apposition Day to hear his brother John deliver his speech, which he
had corrected; and on another occasion, meeting his old second master,
Crumbun--a dogmatic old pedagogue, as he calls him--at a bookseller's in
the Churchyard, he gives the school a fine copy of Stephens'
"Thesaurus." In 1661, going to the Mercers' Hall in the Lord Admiral's
coach, we find him expressing pleasure at going in state to the place
where as a boy he had himself humbly pleaded for an exhibition to St.
Paul's School.
According to Dugdale, an ancient cathedral school existed at St. Paul's.
Bishop Balmeis (Henry I.) bestowed on it "the house of Durandus, near
the Bell Tower;" and no one could keep a school in London without the
licence of the master of Paul's, except the masters of St. Mary-le-Bow
and St. Martin's-le-Grand.
The old laws of Dean Colet, containing many curious provisions and
restrictions, among other things forbad cock-fighting "and other
pageantry" in the school. It was ordered that the second master and
chaplain were to reside in Old Change. There was a bust of good Dean
Colet over the head-master's throne. Strype, speaking of the original
dedication of the school to the child Jesus, says, "but the saint robbed
his Master of the title." In early days there used to be great war
between the "Paul's pigeons," as they were called, and the boys of St.
Anthony's Free School, Threadneedle Street, whom the Paulines nicknamed
"Anthony's pigs." The Anthony's boys were great carriers off of prizes
for logic and grammar.
Of Milton's school-days Mr. Masson, in his voluminous life of the poet,
says, "Milton was at St. Paul's, as far as we can calculate, from 1620,
when he passed his eleventh year, to 1624-5, when he had passed his
sixteenth."