CHAPTER XXVI.
MOORFIELDS AND FINSBURY.
The Early Days of Moorfields—Curious Skates—Various Moorfield Scenes—A Fray between Butchers and Bakers—The Carpenters' Company and
their Hall—Moorfields at the Time of the Great Fire—The Artillery Ground—The Trained-Bands—The Tabernacle in Moorfields—The Old
Bedlam—Miscellaneous Trades in Moorfields—The Hospital of St. Luke—The Present Hospital—Peerless Pool—St. Luke's ChurchFinsbury Fields—An Old-fashioned Medical Quarter of London—Great Change in the Character of the Inhabitants of Finsbury—Bunhill
Fields Burial Ground—The Great Plague Pit in Finsbury—Finsbury as an Ecclesiastical Property—Treaties for the Transfer of Bunhill
Fields Cemetery to the Dissenters—Negotiations between the City Corporation and the Ecclesiastical Commissioners—Lackington and his
History—The London Institution—Finsbury Pavement.
"This Fen or Moor Field,"says Stow, "stretching
from the wall of the City betwixt Bishopsgate and
the postern called Cripplesgate, to Finsbury, and
to Holywell, continued a waste and unprofitable
ground a long time, so that the same was all letten
for four marks the year in the reign of Edward II.;
but in the year 1415, the 3rd of Henry V., Thomas
Falconer, Mayor, caused the wall of the City to be
broken toward the said moor, and built the postern
called Moorgate, for the ease of the citizens to
walk that way upon causeys towards Iseldon and
Hoxton."
Fitzstephen the monk, who wrote a curious
account of London in the reign of Henry II.,
describes Moorfields as the general place of amusement for London youth. Especially, he says, was
the Fen frequented for sliding in winter-time, when
it was frozen. He then mentions a primitive substitute for skates. "Others there are," he says,
"still more expert in these amusements; they place
certain bones—the leg-bones of animals—under the
soles of their feet, by tying them round their ankles,
and then taking a pole shod with iron into their
hands, they push themselves forward by striking it
against the ice, and are carried on with a velocity
equal to the flight of a bird, or a bolt discharged
from a cross-bow." The piece of water on which
the citizens of London performed their pastimes is
spoken of by Fitzstephen as "the great Fen or
Moor which watereth the walls of the City on the
north side."
The barren region of Moorfields and Finsbury
was first drained (no doubt to the great indignation
of the London apprentices) in 1527, laid out in
pleasant walks in the reign of James I., and first
built on after the Great Fire, when all the City was
turned topsy-turvy. Moorfields before this must
have been a melancholy region, with raised paths
and refuse-heaps, deep black ditches, not inodorous, and detestable open sewers; a walk for
thieves and lovers, suicides and philosophers, and
as Howes (1631) says, "held impossible to be
reformed."
It is described by Peter Cunningham, in a few
lines that conceal much research, as a place for
cudgel-players and train-band musters, for its madhouse (one of the lions of London), and for its
wrestlers, pedestrians, bookstall-keepers, and balladsellers. Ben Jonson makes old Knowell follow his
son there, when he has the suspicious appointment
in the Old Jewry; and worthy Brainworm has to
do his best to screen his young master. In "The
Embassy to England in 1626" of Bassompierre,
that French ambassador mentions, after dining
(the Duke and Earls of Montgomery and Holland
having brought him home), taking a fashionable
walk in the Moorfields. Sir William Davenant
(Charles II.) wittily talks of the laundresses and
bleachers of Moorfields, "whose acres of old linen
make a show like the fields of Carthagena (the
great naval depot of Spain), when the five months'
shifts of the whole fleet are washed and spread."
In one of Peter Cunningham's series of admirablyselected extracts bearing on London topography,
we find chatty Pepys (June, 1661) going to Moorfields to see the northern and western men wrestle.
Then comes a fray in Moorfields between the
butchers and weavers, described by the same
diarist, very characteristic of the old guild jealousies, not even then quite forgotten—"26th July,
1664. Great discourse yesterday of the fray in
Moorfields; how the butchers at first did beat
the weavers, between whom there hath been ever
an old competition for mastery, but at last the
weavers rallied, and beat them. At first the
butchers knocked down all for weavers that had
green or blue aprons, till they were fain to pull
them off and put them in their breeches. At last
the butchers were fain to pull off their sleeves, that
they might not be known, and were soundly
beaten out of the field, and some deeply wounded
and bruised; till at last the weavers went out
triumphing, calling, '£100 for a butcher!'"
In 1671, Shadwell, a close imitator of Ben
Jonson and the old school whom Dryden ridiculed,
sneers, in his "Humourist," at a French surgeon,
originally a barber, whose chief customers were the
cudgel-players of Moorfields, and drawers (waiters)
whose heads had been broken with quart-pots.
In the "Scowrers" (so called after the predecessors
of the Mohocks, those London night-roysterers
who made even Swift tremble), the same fat poet
makes Lady Maggot, a vulgar pretender, talk with
contempt of walking with her husband. "Well,"
says the insolent parvenu, "I shall never teach a
citizen manners. I warrant you think you are in
Moorfields, seeing haberdashers walking with their
whole fireside." Garth alludes to the cheap bookstalls of Moorfields; and long after Gray refers in
a letter to Warton to "a penny history that hangs
upon the rails in Moorfields;" while Tom Brown
(1709, Queen Anne), to illustrate the insolence
and forgetfulness of prosperity, describes how a
cutler despises a knife-grinder, and "a well-grown
Paul's Churchyard bookseller, one of the trade
that sells second-hand books under the trees in
Moorfields."
Carpenters' Hall, on the southern side of London
Wall, is one of the few City Halls which escaped
the Great Fire of 1666. It was also, says Timbs,
nearly destroyed in a great fire Oct. 6, 1849, when
the end walls and windows were burned out, and
the staircase and roof much damaged; while the
burning building was only separated from Drapers'
Hall by the garden and fore-court. The Hall was
originally built in 1429. The walls of old London
faced it, and beyond were Moorfields, Finsbury,
and open ground. The exterior possesses no trace
of antiquity. The court-rooms were built in 1664,
and the principal staircase and entrance-hall by
W. Jupp about 1780; the latter is richly decorated
with bas-reliefs of carpentry figures and implements, with heads of Vitruvius, Palladio, Inigo
Jones, and Wren, designed by Bacon; and the
street archway has also a fine bust of Inigo Jones,
by Bacon.
The Great Hall has a rich and beautiful ceiling,
put up in 1716, the supporting pillars springing
from the corbels of the old arched timber roof. On
the western side, surmounted by an embattled oak
beam, is a series of four fresco paintings, which
were discovered in 1845 by a workman in repairing
the hall. The subjects are divided by columns
painted in distemper; the ground-work is laths,
with a thick layer of brown earth and clay held
well together with straw, and a layer of lime, upon
which the paintings are executed.
The subjects are:—1. Noah receiving the commands from the Almighty for the construction of
the ark; in another portion of the picture are
Noah's three sons at work. 2. King Josiah ordering the repair of the Temple (2 Kings xxii.);
mentioning carpenters and builders and masons as
having no reckoning of money made with them,
"because they dealt faithfully." 3. Joseph at work
as a carpenter, the Saviour as a boy gathering the
chips; Mary spinning with the distaff; the figure of
Joseph represents that in Albert Durer's woodcut
of the same incident, executed in 1511. 4. Christ
teaching in the synagogue; "Is not this the carpenter's son?" Each painting has a black-letter
inscription, more or less perfect. The figures are
of the school of Holbein; the costumes are temp.
Henry VIII. Above the picture, in the spandrel
of the arch, are painted the Company's arms, and
"Shreeves" and "Robard" of an inscription remain, intimating it to commemorate the benefit
of some sheriffs. The southern wall has some
decorative Elizabethan work. The eastern window
has carved oak mullions and Renaissance bases,
and some armorial painted glass, date 1586. There
are a few carved wooden panels, besides the series
of corbels, some of good workmanship.
About the date of the Carpenters' Company's
earliest charter there is considerable uncertainty.
Their common seal and grant of arms is dated
1466; and a guild of carpentry is noticed in
1421–2. The earliest entry in the Company's
books is dated 1438; they contain many proofs of
their power over the trade. Among the pictures
are portraits of William Portington, master carpenter
to the Crown, temp. Elizabeth and James I.; and
John Scott, ordnance carpenter and carriage-maker,
temp. Charles II. The Company also possess four
very curious caps or crowns (the oldest 1561), still
used by the master and wardens. Among their
plate are three silver-gilt hanaps (1611, 1612, 1628),
which are borne in procession round the hall on
election-day. Cakes are presented to the members
of the court on Twelfth Day, and ribbon-money to
them on Lord Mayor's Day.
Moorfields was crowded after the Great Fire.
"The poor inhabitants," writes Evelyn, "were dispersed about St. George's Fields, and Moorfields,
as far as Highgate, and several miles in circle;
some under tents, some under miserable huts and
hovels; many without a rag or any necessary
utensils, bed, or board, who from delicateness,
riches, and easy accommodations, in stately and
well-furnished houses, were now reduced to extremest poverty and misery. In this calamitous
condition, I returned with a sad heart to my house,
blessing and adoring the distinguishing mercy of
God to me and mine, who, in the midst of all this
ruin, was like Lot, in my little Zoar, safe and
sound."
"Here in Moorfields," says Strype, "is the new
Artillery Ground, so called in distinction from
another artillery garden near St. Mary Spittal, where
formerly the Artillery Company exercised; who,
about the latter end of King James I. his reign,
were determined to remove thence, and to hold their
trainings and practice of arms here; being the third
great field from Moorgate, next to the six windmills,
which field, Mr. Leat, one of the twenty captains,
with great pains, was divers years a-preparing to
that purpose. The reason of this, their remove,
was, because now their meetings and number consisted of many more soldiers than the old ground
could well contain, being sometimes 6,000. Though
sometimes, notwithstanding, they went to the old
artillery, and continued so to do in my memory."
HALL OF THE CARPENTERS' COMPANY.
It was this company, then known by the name
of the Trained-bands, which decided the fate of
the great civil war. On every occasion they
behaved with the spirit and perseverance of the
most veteran troops. They were commanded by
Skippon, captain of the Artillery Garden, who had
served long in Holland, and raised himself from
a common soldier to the rank of captain, and
proved himself an excellent officer. From the
service he had been in he came over full of prejudice against the Church and State, so was greatly
in the confidence of his party. He was totally
illiterate, but his speeches to his soldiers had more
weight in their ears than the finest oratory. On
marching to join the Earl of Essex, this was his
speech: "Come, my boys, my brave boys, let us
pray heartily and fight heartily; I will run the same
fortune and hazards with you. Remember the
cause is for God; and for yourselves, your wives,
and children. Come, my honest brave boys, pray
heartily and fight heartily, and God will bless you."
The Tabernacle, in Moorfields, was built in 1752;
previously to which, in 1741, shortly after Whitefield's separation from Wesley, some Calvinistic
Dissenters, says Mr. Timbs, raised for Whitefield a
large shed near the Foundry, in Moorfields, upon a
piece of ground lent for the purpose, until he should
return from America. From the temporary nature
of the structure it was called the Tabernacle, in
allusion to the Tabernacle of the Israelites in the
Wilderness; and the name became the designation
of the chapels of the Calvinistic Methodists generally. Whitefield's first pulpit here is said to have
been a grocer's sugar hogshead, an eccentricity not
improbable. Silas Todd describes the Moorfields
Tabernacle, about 1740, as "a ruinous place, with
an old pantile covering, a few rough deal boards
put together to constitute a temporary pulpit, and
several other decayed timbers, which composed
the whole structure." John Wesley also preached
here (the Foundry, as it was called), at five in
the morning and seven in the evening. The
men and women sat apart; and there were no
pews, or difference of benches, or appointed
place for any person. At this chapel the first
Methodist Society was formed in 1740. "In
1752, the wooden building was taken down, the
site was leased by the City of London, and the
present chapel was built, with a lantern roof. It
is now occupied by Independents, and will hold
about 4,000 persons. This chapel was the cradle
of Methodism; the preaching-places had hitherto
been Moorfields, Mary-le-bone Fields, and Kennington Common." The building here alluded to
was pulled down in 1868, and a smaller chapel
erected on the site.
OLD BETHLEM HOSPITAL, MOORFIELDS ABOUT 1750.
The old Bedlam, one of the chief lions of Moorfields, was a low, dismal-looking pile; enclosed by
heavy gates, and surrounded by squalid houses.
"When I remember Moorfields first," says
"Aleph" (i.e., Mr. William Harvey), "it was a
large open quadrangular space, shut in by the
Pavement to the west, the hospital and its outbuildings to the south, and lines of shops without
fronts, occupied chiefly by dealers in old furniture,
to the east and north. Most of these shops were
covered in by screens of canvas or rough boards, so
as to form an apology for a piazza; and, if you were
bold enough, in wet weather you might take refuge
under them, but it was at the imminent risk of your
purse or your handkerchief. As Field Lane was
the favourite market for wearing apparel, at a low
charge, so these stores afforded an endless choice
of decayed upholstery to poorer purchasers: a
broken-down four-poster or a rickety tent bedstead
might be secured at almost any price, 'No reasonable offer was refused.' It was interesting to inspect
the articles exposed for sale: here a cracked
mirror in a dingy frame, a set of hair-seated chairs,
the horse-hair protruding; a tall, stiff, upright easy
chair, without a bottom; a cupboard with one shelf
left of three, and with half a door; here a black
oak chest, groaning to be scraped, so thick with
ancient dust that it might have been the den of
some unclean animal in Noah's ark; a washhandstand, with a broken basin; a hall clock-case, with
a pendulum, but no dial; and other hopelessly
invalided household necessaries, too numerous to
mention. These miscellaneous treasures were
guarded by swarthy men and women of Israel,
who paraded in front of their narrow dominions all
the working day; and if you did but pause for an
instant, you must expect to be dragged into some
hideous Babel of frowsy chattels, and made a purchaser in spite of yourself. Escaping from this
uncomfortable mart to the hospital footway, a
strange sense of utter desertion came over you;
long, gloomy lines of cells, strongly barred, and
obscured with the accumulated dust, silent as the
grave, unless fancy brought sounds of woe to your
ears, rose before you; and there, on each side of
the principal entrance, were the wonderful effigies
of raving and moping madness, chiselled by the
elder Cibber. How those stone faces and eyes
glared! How sternly the razor must have swept
over those bare heads! How listless and dead
were those limbs, bound with inexorable fetters,
while the iron of despair had pierced the hearts of
the prisoned maniacs! Those terrible presentments of physical anguish were till lately preserved
in the entrance of the new hospital, but a rumour
went the round of the press that they were about
to be removed." This presentiment proved correct,
and these two remarkable statues may now (says
Mr. Harvey in 1863) be seen in the South Kensington Museum, where they are infinitely less appropriate than in their old home.
"Opposite to Bethlem Hospital, on the north
side of Moorfields, stood the hospital of St. Luke,
a long plain building, till of late," says Pennant,
"appropriated to the same purposes, but totally independent of the former." It was founded on the
humane consideration that Bethlem was incapable
of receiving all the miserable objects which were
offered. A few years before Pennant's writing, in
1790, the patients were removed from the old
hospital to a new one, erected under the same
name, in Old Street, on the plan of the former,
extending in front 493 feet.
In 1753 (says Timbs) pupils were admitted
to the hospital; and Dr. Battie, the original physician, allowed medical men to observe his practice.
This practice fell into disuse, but was revived in
1843, and an annual course of chemical lectures
established, at which pupils selected by the physicians of the different metropolitan hospitals are
allowed to attend gratuitously. In 1754 incurable
patients were admitted, on payment, to the hospital
on Windmill Hill.
"There are few buildings in the metropolis,
perhaps in Europe," says Elmes, "that, considering the poverty of the material, common English
clamp-bricks, possess such harmony of proportion,
with unity and appropriateness of style, as this
building. It is as characteristic of its uses as that
of Newgate, by the same architect."
This building was commenced in 1782, when
green fields could be seen in every direction, and
the foundation-stone was laid by the Duke of
Montague, July 30; the cost, about £50,000,
being defrayed by subscriptions. George Dance,
junior, was the architect.
Since the first admission of patients on July 30th,
1751, to the same day 1791, 4,421 were admitted,
of which 1,936 were discharged cured, and 1,465
uncured. By a very liberal regulation, uncured
patients could be taken in again, on the payment
of five shillings a week. This was afterwards
increased to seven shillings; so that their friends
might, if they pleased, try a second time the force
of medicine on their unhappy relations or connections. The number of patients received into
the hospital from its opening to April 25, 1809,
amounted to 9,042, of whom 3,884 were discharged uncured or as idiots, and 35,911 as cured.
Seven hundred died during that period. The old
hospital was at last pulled down and replaced by a
row of houses.
The hospital was incorporated in 1838, the
end infirmaries added in 1841; a chapel in 1842,
and open fire-places set in the galleries; when also
coercion was abolished, padded rooms were provided for violent patients, and an airing ground set
apart for them; wooden doors were substituted for
iron gates, and unnecessary guards and bars removed from the windows. In 1843 were added
reading-rooms and a library for the patients, with
bagatelle and backgammon boards, &c. By Act 9
& 10 Vict, cap. 100, the Commissioners of
Lunacy were added to the hospital direction. In
1848, Sir Charles Knightley presented an organ to
the chapel, and daily service was first performed.
The hospital was next lighted with gas; the drainage, ventilation, and the supply of water improved,
by subscription at the Centenary Festival, June 25,
1851.
"On St. Luke's Day (October 18), a large number
of the patients are annually entertained with dancing and singing in the great hall in the centre of the
hospital, when the officers, nurses, and attendants
join the festival. Balls are also given fortnightly."
Since the year 1684, when Bethlem Hospital admitted into its wards seventy-three lunatic patients,
and since the establishment of St. Luke's in 1751,
about 40,000 insane persons have been treated in
these two institutions. Within comparatively few
years insanity in England has more than tripled.
During the last forty-five years or so, several large
asylums have been built in the metropolitan counties: for example, Hanwell, 1831; Earlswood
Asylum for Idiots, founded in 1847; and Colney
Hatch, 1851. The Lunatic Asylum for the City
of London is situated near Dartford. It was
erected at the expense of the Corporation of
London, and opened in the year 1866, for the
reception and treatment of lunatic patients chargeable upon the City of London, and upon the
several unions in the City. It contains accommodation for 284 patients.
"Immediately behind this hospital," Pennant
remarks, "was Peerless Pool, in name altered
from that of Perilous Pond, so called, says old
Stow, from the numbers of youths who had been
drowned in it in swimming." In our time,
says Pennant writing in 1790, it has, at great
expense, been converted into the finest and
most spacious bathing-place now known; where
persons may enjoy the manly and useful exercise with safety. Here is also an excellent
covered bath, with a large pond stocked with
fish, a small library, a bowling green, and every
innocent and rational amusement; so that it is
not without reason that the proprietor hath
bestowed on it the present name."
The parish of St. Luke was taken out of that
of St. Giles, Cripplegate, by an Act of George
II.'s reign. The same writer directs the reader's
attention to the steeple of the church (built in
1732) which terminates most singularly in a fluted
obelisk.
From Moorfields we have not far to go to Finsbury. It was in Finsbury Fields, on his return after
his exploits in Scotland, that the great Protector,
the Duke of Somerset, was met and congratulated
by the Lord Mayor, aldermen, and citizens of
London. According to the chronicler, Holinshed,
"The mayor and aldermen, with certain of the
commons, in their liveries and their hoods, hearing
of his approach to the City, the 8th of October
(1548), met him in Finsbury Fields, where he took
each of them by the hand, and thanked them for
their good wills. The Lord Mayor did ride with
him till they came to the pond in Smithfield, where
his grace left them, and rode to his house of Shene
that night, and the next day to the king at Hampton Court."
As the old fashionable medical quarter of London, Finsbury has a peculiar interest. The special
localities of doctors used to be Finsbury Square,
Finsbury Pavement, Finsbury Place, Finsbury
Circus, Broad Street, and St. Helen's Place, which,
fifty years since, swarmed with doctors and surgeons, who made larger earnings out of the chiefs
and prosperous business folk of the City than the
West-end faculty made out of the Court and aristocracy. At the same time young surgeons and
doctors occupied small houses in the adjacent
courts, just as the young barristers and pleaders
housed themselves in modest streets and yards near
the Inns of Court. William Eccles, formerly surgeon
of the Devonshire Square Hospital, and Royal Free
Hospital, a noteable surgeon thirty or forty years since,
had his first house in Union Court, Broad Street.
His successor (Edward Chance) lived afterwards
in the same house; but was about the only surgeon
residing in a street which once housed not less than
a score of surgeons and physicians. Broad Street
and Union Court are now made up of chambers
tenanted by stock-brokers and other City agents.
The last pre-eminently great physician to practise
in the City was Henry Jeaffreson, M.D. (Senior
Physician of St. Bartholomew's), who died some
years since in Finsbury Square, where he had
long made a larger income than any other doctor of
his day. Several eminent doctors still live in Finsbury Square and Finsbury Pavement. St. Helen's
Place (Bishopsgate) also still houses a few well-to-do
doctors. Charterhouse Square was another great
place for East-end doctors.
But the migrations of the eminent doctors is
not so much due to mere fashion, as to the centralisation and development of commerce, which
have raised the rentals of the residential parts of
the quarter so prodigiously, that only very wealthy
folk could afford to house themselves there. Such
a house as Mr. Eccles had in Broad Street at some
£210 a year rent and taxes, is now-a-days let
as offices and business chambers for £1,000 a
year. Hence, the commercial families have moved
westward from economy, as well as from disinclination to live in a socially deserted district. The
doctors now swarm in Cavendish Square, Harley
Street, Wimpole Street, Henrietta Street, Queen
Anne Street, Brook Street, Savile Row, and Spring
Gardens; and in these days of circular railways
and fast cabs, they are as accessible to their unfashionable visitors in such quarters as the old
Finsbury doctors were to their outlying patients.
When the doctors and surgeons thus swarmed in
the Finsbury district, the City and its adjacent
districts were largely inhabited by wealthy families,
that have now also migrated westward, as their
doctors naturally have.
That Campo Santo of the Dissenters, the Bunhill
Fields burial-ground (no longer used for interments), is on the west side of the Artillery Ground,
and close to Finsbury Square.
It is generally supposed that the Bunhill Fields
Cemetery was the site of the Great Plague pit, so
powerfully described (from hearsay) by Defoe.
Peter Cunningham, usually so exact, has said so,
and every writer since has followed in his wake.
That the conjecture is entirely erroneous is admirably shown in the following accurate account by
Mr. J. C. Jeaffreson, who has devoted much time
to the study of the question:—The burial-ground
in Bunhill Fields, said our authority in 1866,' preserves the ashes of Cromwell's favourite minister,
Dr. Goodwin, John Owen, the Puritan Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, General Fleetwood, John Bunyan,
Daniel Defoe, John Home Tooke, Isaac Watts,
Blake, Stothard, Susannah Wesley (the mother of
John Wesley), and many other eminent persons.
The "great pit in Finsbury," mentioned by Defoe
in his "Journal of the Plague in 1665," occupied ground that abuts on the upper end of
Goswell Street; whereas Bunhill Fields Cemetery
lies within a step of the Artillery Ground, and a
stone's throw of Finsbury Square. The precise
locality of Defoe's "Pit" can be pointed out by
any person familiar with the novelist's "Journal"
and the map of London. In the passage of
Defoe which describes how John Hayward, the
driver of a dead-cart, was on the point of consigning to the gloomy pit a wretched street-musician,
who, whilst in a sound sleep, or perhaps stupefied
with drink, had been thrown upon a load of corpses,
the writer of the "Journal," says, "Accordingly when
John Hayward, with his bell and the cart, came
along, finding two dead bodies lie upon the stall,
they took them up with the instrument they used
and threw them into the cart, and all this while
the piper slept soundly. From thence they passed
along and took in other dead bodies, till, as honest
John Hayward told me, they almost buried him
alive in the cart. Yet all this while he slept
soundly. At length the cart came to the place
where the bodies were to be thrown into the
ground; which, as I do remember, was at Mountmill; and as the cart usually stopped some time
before they were ready to shoot out the melancholy
load they had in it—as soon as the cart stopped
the fellow awaked, and struggled a little to get his
head out from among the dead bodies; when,
raising himself up in the cart, he called out, 'Hey!
where am I?" Of the locality called Mountmill,
the topographer and historian, William Maitland,
writing in 1739, observes, in his "London," "At
Mountmill, near the upper end of Goswell Street,
was situate one of the forts which were erected by
order of Parliament, for the security of the City of
London in the year 1643. But the same being
rendered useless at the end of the Civil War, a
windmill was erected thereon; from which it
received its present name." The popular impression that Defoe's "great pit in Finsbury" was on
the site of the present Bunhill Fields Cemetery is
no master for surprise, when it is known that the
ground of the Dissenters' graveyard was actually
set apart and consecrated, in 1665, for the reception of victims of the plague. That the place was
not used for the especial purpose for which it was
consecrated, we have Maitland's authority.
"Of the ground thus set apart by the Corporation of London for a graveyard the City merely
owned a lease. Lying in the centre of a large
tract, which the City had held for 350 years
under a succession of leases, granted by successive
prebendaries of Finsbury, the civic authorities had
a limited right over the spot. The fee-simple
of the ground was part of the estate attached to
the prebend of Finsbury, one of the prebends of
St. Paul's Cathedral; and though prebendaries of
Finsbury have repeatedly renewed old leases and
granted new leases of the land, the freehold of the
estate has never passed out of the hands of the
Church. The last lease of the Finsbury estate,
made by the Church to the City, was executed in
1769, and is a good instance of the nice little
arrangements that were formerly made with Church
property. Under the authority of a private Act of
Parliament, the then Prebendary Wilson gave a lease
of the Finsbury estate to the civic Corporation for
ninety-nine years, the said lease being renewable at
the expiration of seventy-three years, for fourteen
years; whereby the term still to expire would become forty years, and afterwards renewable every
fourteen years, in like manner for ever. Hence,
under this grant, the City, by duly renewing the
lease, could hold for ever ground which is now
covered by some of the most valuable residential
property in London: (fn. 1) By this same private Act,"
the writer goes on to say, "the City was empowered
to keep three-sixths of the net rents, profits, and
annual proceeds arising from the estate during the
lease. Two-sixths of the same revenue were reserved to Prebendary Wilson and his assigns, and
the remaining one-sixth of the income was retained for the prebendary and his successors. This
pleasant little arrangement was sanctioned by legislation in the good old times! As holders of the
largest single share of the income, the civic authorities took the entire management of the estate,
which has, certainly, prospered in their hands. But
though the rent-roll has increased prodigiously
under civic management, the rulers of the City—so far as one portion of the estate, i.e., Bunhill
Fields Cemetery, is concerned—cannot be said to
have acted discreetly, and in one matter affecting the entire property they have been guilty of
astounding remissness. Having only a leasehold
tenure of the graveyard, they systematically sold
the graves in perpetuity, accepting for them money
which the buyers of graves would never have
thought of paying for ground that might be built
upon, or turned into a cattle-market, at the end of
a ninety-nine years' lease. Having originally the
right to renew the lease on the expiry of seventythree years, the tenants omitted to renew; and, in
consequence, through this omission, their interest
in the estate would terminate in 1867.
"It should be observed, that in 1801 the Corporation bought the interest in the estate secured to
the Wilson family; consequently, since the date of
that purchase, the City has received five-sixths of
the annual net income derived from the property.
In 1842—in which year, by the terms of the agreement, the Corporation could have renewed the
lease—the leaseholders negotiated for the purchase
of the freehold of the estate, and the Bishop of
London introduced a bill into the Upper House
for legalising the sale. Having passed the Lords,
this Bill encountered defeat in the Commons, where
it was rejected as a money bill that ought to have
originated in the Lower Chamber. Occupied with
this Parliamentary contest, the civic authorities
allowed the time to pass without exercising their
right to renew the lease; and, in consequence of
this remissness, their interests, in 1867, devolved
on the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, in whom the
estate of the prebendary of Finsbury vested in 1856.
On the termination of the civic interest the Commissioners derived from the property about sixty
thousand pounds per annum.
"Not only has the City lost its hold over this
magnificent Cental, but it finds itself in an awkward discussion with the buyers of graves in Bunhill
Fields Cemetery on the one hand, and the Ecclesiastical Commissioners on the other. Apprehensive
that the graveyard may be desecrated on the
termination of the lease, the Dissenters have, on
two occasions, asked the Commissioners to preserve
the ground from profanation. On each occasion
the Commissioners have expressed a readiness to
settle terms. For; £10,000 they will make over
to trustees the burial-ground—the freehold of which
is computed as worth; £100,000—on condition
that, should it be converted to secular uses, their
present rights revive. Moreover, the Commissioners
have expressed their readiness to preserve the
sacred character of the ground, provided the civic
authorities pay into the purse of the Commission
the sums which they have received for the feesimple of graves which they had no power to sell.
Anyhow, for £10,000 the custody of the cemetery
may be purchased; and, if no better terms can be
made with the Commissioners, it seems clear that
the City is morally bound to supply this sum, for
the fulfilment of its engagements to the purchasers
of graves.
"There are good reasons to believe that the
Commissioners will not stand out for the last
farthing of the sum just mentioned. In previous
arrangements concerning burial-grounds—the graveyard, for instance, which contains John Wesley's
bones— they acted in a conciliatory and fair
manner; and in the present case special considerations counsel them to take a moderate
course. In the first place, the ground was actually
consecrated; and an Ecclesiastical Commission
could not, without indecency, authorise the disturbance of a consecrated burial-ground. Moreover, the Ecclesiastical Commissioners are morally
bound by the action of the City. Throughout the
stewardship of the municipal authorities the Church
has received a portion of the proceeds of the
Finsbury estate. The prebendaries, who have
received the one-sixth of the revenue reserved
to the prebend, by taking a sixth of the money
derived from the sale of graves, may be said to
have given ecclesiastical sanction to the defective
arrangement; and however irregular the arrangement and the sanction may be, it would not be
wise in the Ecclesiastical Commissioners to disregard them. The relations of the City and the
Commission in this matter involve some delicate
questions. However, as a body that has greatly
benefited by the entire transaction, and as a society
bound to fulfil its contracts with private persons,
the Corporation should effect a settlement of the
dispute, even at the sacrifice of £10,000.
BUNHILL FIELDS BURIAL-GROUND.
"An account of the negotiations for securing
Bunhill Fields to the Corporation of London as a
place for recreation, and to prevent desecration
of the graves of many eminent Englishmen, was
eventually presented to the Common Council. The
report stated that the Ecclesiastical Commissioners
appear to have proposed to accept, for the preservation of the ground, five-sixths of the purchase
money paid for vaults, &c., to the Corporation
during its current lease. The total receipts were
£24,000, i.e., averaging £247 a year. Half this
sum had been applied in connection with the prebend of Finsbury; the other was received by the
Corporation. Failing agreement about the price
to be paid by one of these parties to the other,
the negotiations stood over. The latest proposal
of the Commissioners was to arbitrate. The committee declined this, and denied the existence of a
legal claim on the Corporation on the part of the
Commissioners. The report concluded by stating
that no useful result would be obtained by further
correspondence, and recommended that the Corporation should repeat the offer to preserve the ground
for public use and from desecration, plant, and
watch it, in failure of performing which the land
might revert to the Commissioners; also that they
should be authorised to second the efforts of parties
who might apply to Parliament or the public for aid
to save the graves from speculating builders, and
the site for public service. The report was adopted,
and referred back to be carried into effect. It was
alleged that the Commissioners valued the ground
at about £100,000, and asked what the Corporation would give for its preservation. If this
be true," said a writer to the Times, "the Commissioners, considering that they represented a party
which has already received cash for preserving the
graves, were hard driven. The Ecclesiastical
Commissioners are probably not so black as they
are painted. Would it not serve all ends if the
Government introduced a Bill to the House of
Commons to permit, or, better still, to enjoin the
Commissioners to relax their hold on the ground,
be content with the half share of profits already
received, and that the onus of maintaining the
ground should be placed upon the recipients of the
other moiety, who are anxious to receive it? It
has been stated officially that the Commissioners
already receive £50,000 a year on account of
the Finsbury prebend. It appears that in 1655,
when the estates of that office were sold, the City
bought the fee-simple, and for ten years following
paid no rent. At the Restoration the property was
taken back, rent demanded and paid, to recover
which the Corporation farmed part of the land for
interments, which began as early as 1665, or the
Great Plague. At one time the City received as
much as £700 per annum from this source. In
1852 the ground was closed, and the registers
removed to Somerset House. This year (1867)
the whole estate reverts to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, who may feel it their duty so far to
violate their natural feelings as to let it for building
leases. As literary men, if not equally as cosmopolitans, the late and present Chancellors of the
Exchequer ought to unite in exonerating the Ecclesiastical Commissioners from this probably painful
sense. It would be disgraceful to the Government
if the desecration took place."
THE OLD POST OFFICE, IN LOMBARD STREET, ABOUT 1800.
This negotiation was eventually completed, and
the old cemetery is now a place where meditative
men may wander and quietly contemplate the old
text, "Dust to dust." The Act for the preservation
of the ground as an open space was passed 15th
July, 1867, and it was reopened by the Lord Mayor
on the 14th of October, 1869. It may be added
that a monument to Defoe, the immortal author
of "Robinson Crusoe," subscribed by boys and
girls, was inaugurated on the 15th of September of
the following year.
Lackington, one of the most celebrated of our
early cheap booksellers, lived in Chiswell Street,
Finsbury, and afterwards at the "Temple of the
Muses," Finsbury Place. The shop, into which a
coach and six could be driven, was destroyed by
fire in 1841. In 1792 Lackington cleared £5,000
by his business, and retired with a fortune in 1798.
The following selections from his autobiography
show a curious mixture of piety, vanity, and love
of business.
"I was born," he says, "at Wellington, in
Somersetshire, 31st August (old style), 1746. My
father, George Lackington, was a journeyman shoemaker. He displeased his own father by marrying a woman without a shilling, of a mean family,
in my grandmother Trott's poor cottage; and that
good woman took me to church, unknown to my
father, who was (nominally) a Quaker, that being
the religion of his ancestors. My father ultimately became a drunkard, but to our mother we are
indebted for everything. Never did I hear of a
woman who worked and lived so hard as she did
to support eleven children. For many years she
worked nineteen and twenty hours out of every
twenty-four. Whenever she was asked to drink
half a pint of ale, she always asked leave to take
it home to her husband, who was always so mean
and selfish as to drink it. Out of love to us she
abstained from all drink save water. Her food was
chiefly broth (little more than water and oatmeal),
turnips, potatoes, cabbages, carrots. Her children
fared somewhat better, but not much. I was put
for two or three years to a dame school, kept by
an old woman, where I was thought, from being
able to repeat several chapters of the New Testament, to be a prodigy of science; but my mother
soon became so poor that she could not afford twopence a week for my schooling. Indeed, I was
forced to nurse my brothers and sisters, and soon
forgot what little I knew. Then I became the
captain of all the mischievous boys in the place;
so that if an old woman's lanthorn were kicked out
of her hand, or drawn up a sign-post, or if anything were fastened to her tail, or if her door were
nailed up, I was sure to be accused of the crime
whether I were guilty or not. For spiriting the town
lads to mock our butcher, who was given to yawning,
I had nearly been killed like one of his calves, for
he flung his cleaver at me. At ten years old I cried
apple pies in the street. I had noticed a famous
pieman, and thought I could do it better myself.
My mode of crying pies soon made me a street
favourite, and the old pie merchant left off trade.
You see, friend, I soon began to make a noise in
the world. But one day I threw my master's child
out of a wheelbarrow, so I went home again, and
was set by my father to learn his trade, continuing
with him for several years. My fame as a pieman
led to my selling almanacks on the market days at
Christmas. This was to my mind, and I sorely
vexed the vendors of 'Moore,' 'Wing,' and 'Poor
Robin.' My next move was to be bound apprentice for seven years to Mr. George and Mrs. Mary
Bowdon—yes, to both wife and husband, and an
honest, worthy couple they were. They were Anabaptists, and I attended their place of worship;
though, for a long while, I had no idea that I had
any concern in what the minister preached about.
Master had two sons who had been at school, but
all they read was the Bible. Master's whole library
consisted of a school-size Bible, Watt's Hymns,
Foote on Baptism, Culpepper's 'Herbal,' 'The History of the Gentle Craft,' 'Receipts in Physic,' and
a 'Ready Reckoner.'
* * * *
"I was soon able to read easy parts of the Bible
and Wesley's Hymns; every leisure minute was so
employed. I worked from six to ten, yet managed
to read six chapters every day, as well as some sermons. My eyes were good, and I could often read
by moonlight. I was far gone in enthusiasm, and
on a Sunday, being locked in my room to prevent
my going to meeting, I opened the Bible and read,
'He has given His angels charge concerning thee,
and in their hands shall they bear thee up, lest at
any time thou shouldest dash thy foot against a
stone.' Wherefore I threw myself out of window.
I was carried back to bed, where it was a month
before I recovered the use of my limbs. I was
ignorant enough to think that the Lord had not
used me very well, and resolved not to put so much
trust in Him for the future.
* * * *
"For many years I have expended two-thirds of
my profits, but never more. Once I beckoned
across the way for a pot of porter; then a dinner,
roast veal; then with an addition of ham; and then
a wind-up of pudding. Once a glass of brandy-andwater was a luxury; raisin wine followed; then
good red port; nor was sherry long behind. It was
not long before the country was a necessity once a
year; lodgings first, then my own mansion; and at
length the inconveniences of a stage coach were
remedied by a chariot.
* * * *
"My new wife's attachment to books was for
tunate. She delighted to be in the shop, and could
readily get any article that was asked for. Such
constant attention procured me many customers.
I wanted a larger stock, but had no capital. Mr.
John Dennis, an oilman, of Cannon Street, offered
to be my partner, and to advance money in proportion to the stock. We soon laid out the cash in
second-hand books, which at once doubled them.
In 1779 we published a catalogue of 12,000
volumes. We took £20 the first week."
This partnership was dissolved in 1780. In that
year Lackington determined to give no credit, and
though he admits he had some difficulties in carrying out the plan, he says it fully answered. His
business steadily increased; and the catalogue for
1784 contained 30,000 volumes. He declares he
sold at a very small profit, and, ultimately, was able
to give a higher price when purchasing than other
booksellers. At the trade sales there were often
80,000 volumes sold in an afternoon. It was common to destroy one-half or three-fourths of them in
order to keep up the prices. This Lackington did
for some time, but soon resolved not to destroy any
good books, but to sell them off at a half or a
quarter of the publication prices.
"My purchases," says he, "were now very large.
I have purchased 6,000 copies of one book, and at
one time have had 10,000 copies of Watts's Hymns
and as many of his Psalms in my possession. At
one trade sale I have purchased books to the
amount of £5,000. To remind me of what has led
to my prosperity, I have put for a motto on the
doors of my carriage, 'Small profits do great things.'
I remain in business because I have fifty poor
relations, some very young, some old and infirm.
I can manage better for them than they can for
themselves. I maintain my good old mother, who
is still alive at Wellington. I support two aged
men and one woman. I also maintain and educate
four children. I now sell fully 100,000 volumes
annually. I publish two catalogues yearly, and of
each 3,000 copies."
His final residence was Budleigh Salterton,
Devon, where he built a third chapel, which cost
£2,000, appointing one Hawkey, a retired army
minister, his chaplain, with a stipend of £150 per
annum. Lackington's health declining—he suffered
from epileptic fits, and ultimately from apoplexy
and paralysis—he died November 22, 1815, aged
seventy, and his remains were interred in Budleigh
Churchyard.
The London Institution, Finsbury Circus, was
established in 1805, and incorporated 1807. The
cost of the building was £31,124, and its annual
income is about £3,000 per annum, derived from
funded property, and six annual payments. The
number of volumes is about 70,000, which are
available for the holders of a proprietor's share or a
nominee of a proprietor, having his medal or ticket.
In the winter time, when the lectures are delivered
by leading men of science, the theatre is as full as
can well be imagined, and is by no means a quiet
resting-place; but the reading-room is a treat, and
it is pleasant to get away from the City bustle, and
take shelter there. Another recommendation of
the place is that under the library there is a wellsupplied newspaper room. (Timbs.)
"The Pavement—so called, no doubt," says
Aleph, " as the only firm pathway in the neighbourhood—was formerly edged with some fifty or sixty
brick houses, with very unpretentious shops attached—bakers, butchers, ale and spirit stores, and the
like, with a chapel in the centre; the whole giving
no promise of the gay and tempting shop-windows,
blazing with gas, so soon to be substituted. Yet
most of the buildings are unaltered, even now; only
the facia has been 'improved and beautified.'
"How, you will ask, was the centre of old Moorfields employed, in its chrysalis state?: Variously,
In the days of Wesley and Whitefield it was the
favourite haunt of open-air preachers. Both those
remarkable men chose the spot for their London
lectures; and they often gathered audiences of a
fabulous number—the prints of the period say, of
20,000, 30,000, and even 50,000. They had begun
to preach in the churches, but it was alleged the vast
crowds made that practice dangerous, and they
extemporised pulpits under the blue vault of heaven.
The Tabernacle, not far distant, was the result of
this movement.
"In 1812, and long after, carpet-beating was the
chief use of the dry or sloppy area (according to
the season). Poles with ropes stretched across were
placed at intervals, and sturdy arms brandishing
stout sticks were incessantly assaulting Turkey, Kidderminster, and Brussels floor-covers, and beating
out such clouds of dust that as you passed it was
expedient to hold your cambric or bandanna over
your mouth and nostrils. Then you had, in fairtime, those humble incentives to gambling which
for a penny offer the chance of winning a tin box or
a wooden apple. Five uprights are stuck in deep
holes; you stand a few yards off, supplied with
short sticks, and if you can knock away box or
apple without its lapsing into the hole, it becomes
your property, and the gain may be about twopence. Those days are gone; the open space is
filled in with a strange conglomeration of buildings,
public and private—the London Institution, a
Catholic cathedral, a Scotch church, a seceding
ditto, the Ophthalmic Hospital, Finsbury Circus
and dwellings of all sizes, accommodating a mixed
population, varying in position from extreme poverty
to wealth."