Volume Ii Part 14 (1/2)
The sign of the Grave Maurice remained against the house in the Whitechapel-road till the year 1806, when it was taken down to be repainted. It represented a soldier in a hat and feather, and blue uniform. The tradition of the neighbourhood is, that it is the portrait of a prince of Hesse, who was a great warrior, but of so inflexible a countenance, that he was never seen to smile in his life; and that he was, therefore, most properly termed _Grave_.
MATHEMATICAL SOCIETY, SPITALFIELDS.
It is curious to find that a century and a half since, science found a home in Spitalfields, chiefly among the middle and working cla.s.ses; they met at small taverns in that locality. It appears that a Mathematical Society, which also cultivated electricity, was established in 1717, and met at the Monmouth's Head in Monmouth-street, until 1725, when they removed to the White Horse Tavern, in Wheeler-street; from thence, in 1735, to Ben Jonson's Head in Pelham-street; and next to Crispin-street, Spitalfields. The members were chiefly tradesmen and artisans; among those of higher rank were Canton, Dollond, Thomas Simpson, and Crossley. The Society lent their instruments (air-pumps, reflecting telescopes, reflecting microscopes, electrical machines, surveying-instruments, etc.) with books for the use of them, on the borrowers giving a note of hand for the value thereof. The number of members was not to exceed the square of seven, except such as were abroad or in the country; but this was increased to the squares of eight and nine. The members met on Sat.u.r.day evenings: each present was to employ himself in some mathematical exercise, or forfeit one penny; and if he refused to answer a question asked by another in mathematics, he was to forfeit twopence. The Society long cherished a taste for exact science among the residents in the neighbourhood of Spitalfields, and acc.u.mulated a library of nearly 3000 volumes; but in 1845, when on the point of dissolution, the few remaining members made over their books, records, and memorials to the Royal Astronomical Society, of which these members were elected Fellows.[32] This amalgamation was chiefly negotiated by Captain, afterwards Admiral Smyth.
FOOTNOTE:
[32] Curiosities of London, p. 678.
GLOBE TAVERN, FLEET-STREET.
In the last century, when public amus.e.m.e.nts were comparatively few, and citizens dwelt in town, the Globe in Fleet-street was noted for its little clubs and card-parties. Here was held, for a time, the Robin Hood Club, a Wednesday Club, and later, Oliver Goldsmith and his friends often finished their Shoemaker's Holiday by supping at the Globe. Among the company was a surgeon, who, living on the Surrey side of the Thames (Blackfriars Bridge was not then built), had to take a boat every night, at 3_s._ or 4_s._ expense, and the risk of his life; yet, when the bridge was built, he grumbled at having a penny to pay for crossing it. Other frequenters of the Globe were Archibald Hamilton, ”with a mind fit for a lord chancellor;” Carnan, the bookseller, who defeated the Stationers' Company upon the almanac trial; Dunstall, the comedian; the veteran Macklin; Akerman, the keeper of Newgate, who always thought it most prudent not to venture home till daylight; and William Woodfall, the reporter of the parliamentary debates. Then there was one Glover, a surgeon, who restored to life a man who had been hung in Dublin, and who ever after was a plague to his deliverer. Brasbridge, the silversmith of Fleet-street, was a frequenter of the Globe. In his eightieth year he wrote his _Fruits of Experience_, full of pleasant gossip about the minor gaieties of St. Bride's. He was more fond of following the hounds than his business, and failure was the ill consequence: he tells of a sporting party of four--that he and his partner became bankrupt; the third, Mr. Smith, became Lord Mayor; and the fourth fell into poverty, and was glad to accept the situation of patrol before the house of his Lords.h.i.+p, whose a.s.sociate he had been only a few years before. Smith had 100,000_l._ of bad debts on his books, yet died worth one-fourth of that sum. We remember the Globe, a handsomely-appointed tavern, some forty years since; but it has long ceased to be a tavern.
THE DEVIL TAVERN.
This celebrated Tavern is described in the present work, Vol. I., pp.
10-15, as the meeting-place of the Apollo Club. Its later history is interesting.
Mull Sack, _alias_ John Cottington, the noted highwayman of the time of the Commonwealth, is stated to have been a constant visitor at the Devil Tavern. In the garb and character of a man of fas.h.i.+on, he appears to have levied contributions on the public as a pick-pocket and highwayman, to a greater extent than perhaps any other individual of his fraternity on record. He not only had the honour of picking the pocket of Oliver Cromwell, when Lord Protector, but he afterwards robbed King Charles II., then living in exile at Cologne, of plate valued at 1500. Another of his feats was his robbing the wife of the Lord General Fairfax. ”This lady,” we are told, ”used to go to a lecture on a weekday, to Ludgate Church, where one Mr. Jacomb preached, being much followed by the precisians. Mull Sack, observing this,--and that she constantly wore her watch hanging by a chain from her waist,--against the next time she came there, dressed himself like an officer in the army; and having his comrades attending him like troopers, one of them takes out the pin of a coach-wheel that was going upwards through the gate, by which means, it falling off, the pa.s.sage was obstructed; so that the lady could not alight at the church-door, but was forced to leave her coach without. Mull Sack, taking advantage of this, readily presented himself to her ladys.h.i.+p; and having the impudence to take her from her gentleman usher, who attended her alighting, led her by the arm into the church; and by the way, with a pair of keen or sharp scissors for the purpose, cut the chain in two, and got the watch clear away: she not missing it till sermon was done, when she was going to see the time of the day.” At the Devil Tavern Mull Sack could mix with the best society, whom he probably occasionally relieved of their watches and purses. There is extant a very rare print of him, in which he is represented partly in the garb of a chimney-sweep, his original avocation, and partly in the fas.h.i.+onable costume of the period.[33]
In the Apollo chamber, at the Devil Tavern, were rehea.r.s.ed, with music, the Court-day Odes of the Poets Laureate: hence Pope, in the _Dunciad_:
”Back to the Devil the loud echoes roll, And 'Coll!' each butcher roars at Hockley Hole.”
The following epigram on the Odes rehearsals is by a wit of those times:
”When Laureates make Odes, do you ask of what sort?
Do you ask if they're good, or are evil?
You may judge--From the Devil they come to the Court, And go from the Court to the Devil.”
St. Dunstan's, or the Devil Tavern, is mentioned as a house of old repute, in the interlude, _Jacke Jugeler_, 1563, where Jack, having persuaded his cousin Jenkin,
”As foolish a knave withall, As any is now, within London wall,”
that he was not himself, thrusts him from his master's door, and in answer to Jenkin's sorrowful question--where his master and he were to dwell, replies,
”At the Devyll yf you l.u.s.t, I can not tell!”
Ben Jonson being one night at the Devil Tavern, a country gentleman in the company was obtrusively loquacious touching his land and tenements; Ben, out of patience, exclaimed, ”What signifies to us your dirt and your clods? Where you have an acre of land I have ten acres of wit!” ”Have you so,” retorted the countryman, ”good Mr. Wise-acre?”
”Why, how now, Ben?” said one of the party, ”you seem to be quite stung!” ”I was never so p.r.i.c.ked by a hobnail before,” grumbled Ben.
There is a ludicrous reference to this old place in a song describing the visit of James I. to St. Paul's Cathedral on Sunday, 26th of March, 1620:
”The Maior layd downe his mace, and cry'd, 'G.o.d save your Grace, And keepe our King from all evill!'
With all my hart I then wist, the good mace had been in my fist, To ha' p.a.w.n'd it for supper at the _Devill_!”
We have already given the famous Apollo ”Welcome,” but not immortal Ben's Rules, which have been thus happily translated by Alexander Brome, one of the wits who frequented the Devil, and who left _Poems and Songs_, 1661: he was an attorney in the Lord Mayor's Court:
”_Ben Jonson's Sociable Rules for the Apollo._
”Let none but guests, or clubbers, hither come.
Let dunces, fools, sad sordid men keep home.