tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31305665209541946262024-02-01T22:40:26.805-08:00Time Present and Time PastMark Patton's BlogMark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.comBlogger317125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-88838076386681140622023-05-07T08:02:00.000-07:002023-05-07T08:02:13.843-07:00On Being an Islander: Reflections on Current Exhibitions in Oxford and CambridgeExhibitions currently showing at the University Museums of Oxford and Cambridge tackle the question of what it means, and what it has meant in the past, to be an "islander." The exhibition at Oxford's Ashmolean Museum, <a href="https://www.ashmolean.org/exhibition/labyrinth-knossos-myth-reality" target="_blank">"Labyrinth: Knossos, Myth and Reality"</a> (showing until 30th July), focuses, specifically, on the Bronze Age "Palace Civilisation" of Crete; whilst that at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, <a href="https://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/visit-us/exhibitions/islanders" target="_blank">"Islanders: The Making of the Mediterranean"</a> (showing until 11th June), deals with the prehistory and ancient history of three of the Mediterranean's largest islands - Crete, Sardinia, and Cyprus.<br><br>
As an islander myself (born and brought up on the Channel Island of Jersey, and having lived all but one year of my life on islands and archipelagoes, including the UK "mainland," on which I live today), I have an inevitable interest in such topics. Back in 1996, I published a book, <i>Islands in Time: Island Sociogeography and Mediterranean Prehistory</i>(Routledge). In it, I sought to adapt the long-standing "Theory of Island Biogeography," used by biologists around the world, to the very different data-sets of archaeology, and the study of human communities. Island Biogeography Theory makes use of physical variables, such as island size, and distance from adjacent mainlands, to understand the processes of colonisation of islands by animal and plant species, and the probability of their survival in an insular environment. It has long been understood that evolution on islands can produce "endemic" species that occur nowhere else, including, famously, the marine iguanas and giant tortoises of the Galapagos Islands.<br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkByXgN6OnjFDYbbO1O_qc6C9fYTw_0j3MlY1OrkMKP_UkTRNdedk95MY7nE3HeC2T8zCHlP9iXkDXYbCRB41mAoCgUO486rvPSXQst0BGXtdJpcme_Nx_vBxHNj5o07DkquMa43fpvjsq6TpLSMjKjJqmnCXHNMCtnU5mTtMEATMKgFXiz9PaaGmc/s884/Island%20Biogeography%20Diagram.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="884" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkByXgN6OnjFDYbbO1O_qc6C9fYTw_0j3MlY1OrkMKP_UkTRNdedk95MY7nE3HeC2T8zCHlP9iXkDXYbCRB41mAoCgUO486rvPSXQst0BGXtdJpcme_Nx_vBxHNj5o07DkquMa43fpvjsq6TpLSMjKjJqmnCXHNMCtnU5mTtMEATMKgFXiz9PaaGmc/s320/Island%20Biogeography%20Diagram.png"/></a></div> Summary diagram of Island Biogeography Theory, from B.H. Warren <i>et al.</i> 2015, in <i>Ecology Letters</i> 18, 200-217.<br><br><i></i> <br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvom4Q3XdgGnBZkDlshIiQJAzGrKVpOmmNjEjvRuRCdh0UbOBuyW2SDuKJRriVYZIeuLYoEYVg0xwDMo8bJqEBLTZ6adGfyg9smfT_n8OGwzwlHBM0-dzjVw53xrddMCG-DQABeRiglm9TbhJxbPHwr14_WvD_PLOy2YuM-4sfZykaXrSFUJXKL6X/s1600/Islands%20in%20Time%202.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvom4Q3XdgGnBZkDlshIiQJAzGrKVpOmmNjEjvRuRCdh0UbOBuyW2SDuKJRriVYZIeuLYoEYVg0xwDMo8bJqEBLTZ6adGfyg9smfT_n8OGwzwlHBM0-dzjVw53xrddMCG-DQABeRiglm9TbhJxbPHwr14_WvD_PLOy2YuM-4sfZykaXrSFUJXKL6X/s320/Islands%20in%20Time%202.jpg"/></a></div>
I was struck, in the 1990s, by possible archaeological corollaries of such phenomena, which I termed "cultural elaborations:" the Minoan "palaces" of Crete occur nowhere else in the Mediterranean; likewise the stone temples of Neolithic Malta; and the Bronze Age towers known as <i>nuraghe</i>, on Sardinia. On the other hand, as Mary Beard has pointed out in a contribution to the Fitzwilliam exhibition, islands, in archaeological terms, can be as much about "connectedness" as about isolation. The early 20th Century ethnographer, Bronislaw Malinowski, in his famous study (<i>Argonauts of the Western Pacific</i>) of elaborate exhange networks on the Trobriand Islands, to the north of Papua New Guinea, showed how such "connectedness" could be a medium for the emergence of social complexity in island communities.<br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_jI_SQ6xxDWhgZG97BG7e9PbYiGeaLUUC5slOpPuaxCTet-bI8B0miNy7vIV2HBLbWerFF5kJn9SF6KZXrwHIXwXFcyn-qCRGcfaQ1Jvp6y6rlvdeca9KbGrfHW043pOtA6FtwH8zWnV6nUGKCA5PgIL8SIsw5ioiMxDLj0YNJ1hKbUii19OxmpE/s1599/Gigantija.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1599" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_jI_SQ6xxDWhgZG97BG7e9PbYiGeaLUUC5slOpPuaxCTet-bI8B0miNy7vIV2HBLbWerFF5kJn9SF6KZXrwHIXwXFcyn-qCRGcfaQ1Jvp6y6rlvdeca9KbGrfHW043pOtA6FtwH8zWnV6nUGKCA5PgIL8SIsw5ioiMxDLj0YNJ1hKbUii19OxmpE/s320/Gigantija.jpg"/></a></div>
The stone temple of Ggantija on Gozo, Malta, 3600-2500 BC. Photo: BoneA, Licensed under CCA. <br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cX7XEM-8oIK6f63o495i1NrR1UyD6V4UeOzlqfQbV5MouX5jHgfkziRR5K0cX1-75NDyQzohvYQdXJdRYQSbzTtlsxaWhyk-qATunHOlMky_xXKJynltG4Ke3XwlTw44Mq-B7fy7n85c-G96w-64uly_maDitbyTAgbr55BvEbTPwwxtTVSolkkC/s600/Nuraghe_Losa.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cX7XEM-8oIK6f63o495i1NrR1UyD6V4UeOzlqfQbV5MouX5jHgfkziRR5K0cX1-75NDyQzohvYQdXJdRYQSbzTtlsxaWhyk-qATunHOlMky_xXKJynltG4Ke3XwlTw44Mq-B7fy7n85c-G96w-64uly_maDitbyTAgbr55BvEbTPwwxtTVSolkkC/s320/Nuraghe_Losa.jpg"/></a></div>
Nuraghe Losa, Sardinia, 13th-14th Century BC. Photo: Elena at Italian Wikimedia (image is in the Public Domain).<br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6xwvvyvEX-5mjSkyn0PhuQGmKrb9bvyiCkPPRogmDGZecJeZXJwiAHy8mK9miEKQxTPCdeRjpRWp3RMvXs7K47Ra6edhaFUJ3AxIK4B_bQ-FbpInqlBot4KGinurmn36lX9EfNlFz0lejqXiu275_Kpo4-5MjOYJd_rk0uZEbToByx2uKJg6pxj-/s1920/Bronzetti_nuragici_al_museo_Archeologico_di_Cagliari.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6xwvvyvEX-5mjSkyn0PhuQGmKrb9bvyiCkPPRogmDGZecJeZXJwiAHy8mK9miEKQxTPCdeRjpRWp3RMvXs7K47Ra6edhaFUJ3AxIK4B_bQ-FbpInqlBot4KGinurmn36lX9EfNlFz0lejqXiu275_Kpo4-5MjOYJd_rk0uZEbToByx2uKJg6pxj-/s320/Bronzetti_nuragici_al_museo_Archeologico_di_Cagliari.jpg"/></a></div>
Nuraghic bronze warrior figurines from Sardinia, 1000-700 BC. Photo: Prc90, Licensed under CCA.<br><br>
Unsurprisingly, the case studies that I used in my 1996 book are, by any modern standard, thoroughly out of date, yet many of the same questions about island societies continue to suggest themselves. Geographically, of course, there is a world of difference between Crete, Cyprus, and Sardinia, on the one hand; and the true "oceanic" insularity of, say, the Galapagos, Easter Island, or even the Trobriand Islands, on the other. These, however, are differences of degree, rather than differences of kind.<br><br>
The Oxford exhibition focusses specifically on the site of Knossos, on Crete, the largest and longest-enduring of the Minoan "palaces" of Crete. One of my students recently asked whether "palace" was really the most appropriate term for these extraordinary buildings. Neither he nor I could suggest a better term, but the problem is a real one: they were clearly, at least in part, residential complexes, and the principal residents must surely have belonged to an elite, but there is none of the abundant evidence for "kingship" that one finds in contemporary Mesopotamia (Iraq) or Egypt, until the very end of the "palatial period," when it seems to have been introduced by Mycenaeans from the Greek mainland.<br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTbBCc_I9KGJNvJ8xWjQWGV7qyGbWQ5eTy4qoU0Hvan8vISKrPBzvR8zN14Dz_ImCMRC4NLJuovjHh4hTvMLHADUT2fqpZ1FFrLcICp2jsaBF9tDrcrrhwz7TdukdxqAzH4fLk7jLLbzeHh_27qREqWo5TO2QAd1Z5bAfdpZ4zCAmDkd0to-1otHV/s1599/Knossos_-_03.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1599" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTbBCc_I9KGJNvJ8xWjQWGV7qyGbWQ5eTy4qoU0Hvan8vISKrPBzvR8zN14Dz_ImCMRC4NLJuovjHh4hTvMLHADUT2fqpZ1FFrLcICp2jsaBF9tDrcrrhwz7TdukdxqAzH4fLk7jLLbzeHh_27qREqWo5TO2QAd1Z5bAfdpZ4zCAmDkd0to-1otHV/s320/Knossos_-_03.jpg"/></a></div>
The Palace of Knossos. Photo: Lapplaender, Licensed under CCA. <br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75ATZMYSQgYrT0miN4zitWUuUVB6V9EfkCq_W0V8jQ7UBtPUBHVDbbMB3CVQ5-RBt-io-YgUJNPRY3eTJpaN_OOWYRkkGaob6QxItkoOTcE57CV3lr6gU_84QeiuoT_aGDS-YdZ268J-DiVgnKkhgLfhK1wyfJllEK_Nk9BQ1DR2ngC6EIdAcKVf5/s1600/Kamares_vases,_Heraklion.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="910" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75ATZMYSQgYrT0miN4zitWUuUVB6V9EfkCq_W0V8jQ7UBtPUBHVDbbMB3CVQ5-RBt-io-YgUJNPRY3eTJpaN_OOWYRkkGaob6QxItkoOTcE57CV3lr6gU_84QeiuoT_aGDS-YdZ268J-DiVgnKkhgLfhK1wyfJllEK_Nk9BQ1DR2ngC6EIdAcKVf5/s320/Kamares_vases,_Heraklion.jpg"/></a></div>
"Kamares Ware" pottery from Crete, c1800-1700 BC. This distinctive pottery seems to have been produced in workshops closely associated with the palaces themselves, but some vessels were exported, and have been found as far away as Egypt, attesting to Minoan Crete's "connectedness" to the wider world of the eastern Mediterranean. Photo: Bernard Gagnon, Licensed under CCA. <br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAvLBou-c-dq4kk_NGBibF6YcHn6J-3YZ_Z8N8TM3GCL5bT-dnVFYpPQfVN-Uct0KOwDcfjo-HyMvzia15A2uS5ZEpk1O1SpRE3vT4i54xC08ZRxfZt_ERZzrF1uaJ_Z5keRIwBMhnuwboasUC8XuI98wXbiD2YlutJgMrsLIyFUExb7EcLuQQh3X/s5184/Knossos%20Poros%20Ewer.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAvLBou-c-dq4kk_NGBibF6YcHn6J-3YZ_Z8N8TM3GCL5bT-dnVFYpPQfVN-Uct0KOwDcfjo-HyMvzia15A2uS5ZEpk1O1SpRE3vT4i54xC08ZRxfZt_ERZzrF1uaJ_Z5keRIwBMhnuwboasUC8XuI98wXbiD2YlutJgMrsLIyFUExb7EcLuQQh3X/s320/Knossos%20Poros%20Ewer.JPG"/></a></div>
"Marine Style" ewer from Poros, Crete, 1500-1450 BC, on display at the Ashmolean Museum. This style seems to have emerged at Knossos in the aftermath of the destruction of Crete's other palaces, possibly as a result of a tsunami following the catastrophic eruption on the neighbouring island of Thera. Photo: Mark Patton, Licensed under CCA.<br><br>
Whilst most of the objects on display at the Ashmolean come either from the museum's own collection, or from the Heraklion Museum on Crete, those on display at the Fitzwilliam are drawn from a wider range of collections, and vary, in date, from the time of the Mediterranean's first farming communities, more than ten thousand years ago, to the flourishing of Greek and Roman civilisation between the Fifth Centuries BC and AD.<br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul6DXmtv9Q3eJ-YxVGUzkRAVAr2ckywjg_Bs0w6t-dtpZVibMNDh6wBloG7iXv1JURYP62vWqmNcQxI2Y3RkbNHOyTP9yp6Lzrp_BUXpSNq5cAo-g36aviGtQfh47DW2AsmZRD8u154r916ym_W8CWrNwStIMCVG4rTLRIiZ_caAlwEiMaCEYdgGs/s1365/Cycladic%20Figurines.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul6DXmtv9Q3eJ-YxVGUzkRAVAr2ckywjg_Bs0w6t-dtpZVibMNDh6wBloG7iXv1JURYP62vWqmNcQxI2Y3RkbNHOyTP9yp6Lzrp_BUXpSNq5cAo-g36aviGtQfh47DW2AsmZRD8u154r916ym_W8CWrNwStIMCVG4rTLRIiZ_caAlwEiMaCEYdgGs/s320/Cycladic%20Figurines.jpg"/></a></div>
Marble figurines from the Cycladic Islands, 2800-2000 BC, made, probably on the island of Naxos, and widely exhanged around the Aegean, probably before the age of sail. Photo: Sailko, Licensed under CCA.<br><br>
There is a superabundance of extraordinary artefacts on display in both exhibitions, and questions are thrown up, to which, it seems, there are no more definitive answers available in 2023 than there were in 1996, although there are, incontestibly, more sites known, and more artefacts excavated and catalogued, and, thus, available to display.<br><br>
For those, like myself, with an appetite for still more, both exhibitions are accompanied by a lively programme of events, and we have to hope that these will, in some way, be brought together and conserved as a permanent legacy of two exhibitions that I, for one, will not be forgetting any time soom.<br><br>
Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://Author.to/MarkPatton" target="_blank">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-41879629967253022272022-01-09T07:13:00.004-08:002022-12-27T06:57:33.738-08:00Thomas Lambe, Soap-Boiler and Baptist Preacher: A Religious and Political Radical in 17th Century London<p>This blog-post is a summary of research that I carried out for the Worshipful Company of Tallow Chandlers, during the course of 2020 and 2021, and presented to the company in November, 2021. Thomas Lambe, a freeman of the company in the early decades of the 17th Century, was a soap-boiler (a producer of soap from rendered animal fat - an activity forming part of the craft and mystery of tallow-chandlery as defined at the time), who was also a controversial Baptist preacher, and a leading member of the "Levellers," a radical political movement agitating for universal manhood suffrage (the vote for every adult male), fixed-term parliaments, the abolition of capital punishment for theft, and the abolition of imprisonment for debt. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEwJlqvxSadEbl5KOJ6MZushGQbQ0vroO81yiNVWwaN6Z74ZDj2clvucoX8OQTB7eTz3U8SQeRhoKVFZbdZAbFj8iuTE7We53cOVKiGraexcnnyaB1uECixCrmjq4XjAwUkx8qVPGH6DDuFN0rKrpFLdyeRZv-b-8b_RQiV_Su09E8_JthQ8w0zCFs=s1960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1033" data-original-width="1960" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEwJlqvxSadEbl5KOJ6MZushGQbQ0vroO81yiNVWwaN6Z74ZDj2clvucoX8OQTB7eTz3U8SQeRhoKVFZbdZAbFj8iuTE7We53cOVKiGraexcnnyaB1uECixCrmjq4XjAwUkx8qVPGH6DDuFN0rKrpFLdyeRZv-b-8b_RQiV_Su09E8_JthQ8w0zCFs=w400-h211" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">London in the late 16th Century.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYsZiFE5YN1FJB4W0Z0Sz9cmBDQoDfGg24pKB-tDQX2yQSJWQEx94Lg5HDNzvupGTgz3Bd2EOOLarDeqjJD36qVopFOTBgUsAMYKiCOtji_WjboM9OgeFAF_4Madz0BaBJddUvwGLdWl4Mc7Q3eYgBWb5coIo9vfjXX0OrjHoTcs6BQRm2zEE2LZXA=s781" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="675" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYsZiFE5YN1FJB4W0Z0Sz9cmBDQoDfGg24pKB-tDQX2yQSJWQEx94Lg5HDNzvupGTgz3Bd2EOOLarDeqjJD36qVopFOTBgUsAMYKiCOtji_WjboM9OgeFAF_4Madz0BaBJddUvwGLdWl4Mc7Q3eYgBWb5coIo9vfjXX0OrjHoTcs6BQRm2zEE2LZXA=w346-h400" width="346" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Illustration from <i>The Declaration and Standard of the Levellers of England</i>, 1649.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>Several of the most widely read recent books on the "Leveller" movement (a label rejected by most of its supporters, on the grounds that they did not support the "levelling of mens' estates," except on a purely voluntary basis), including John Rees's <i>The Leveller Revolution</i>, state that Lambe was one of two tallow chandlers involved in its leadership, the other being Thomas Prince. I did not, however, find Prince's name in the membership records of the company, and nor could I find any particular reason why Prince, who made his living as a cheese-monger, should have been a member of it. Prince is a fascinating historical figure in his own right, but my research focused on Thomas Lambe (to confuse matters further, there seem to have been two Baptist preachers named Thomas Lambe active in London at the same time; one described as a soap-boiler, the other as a merchant; and I am writing only about the former).</p><p>Thomas Lambe seems to have been born at Colchester, where he may also have served an apprenticeship as a tallow chandler and soap-boiler. I was unable to trace a baptismal record for him, but he did marry Dorcas Prentice there in 1619. Whilst living in Colchester, the couple fell foul of the authorities several times: they were excommunicated in 1636, for failing to attend (Anglican) worship, and for refusing to have one of their children baptised; the following year, still in Colchester, Thomas was arrested for "soap-boiling on the Sabbath." </p><p>Thomas Lambe seems to have taken up residence in London by 1624 (the date at which his name first appears in the membership records of the Tallow Chandlers). The fact that his name appears, in the 1620s and 1630s, both in London and in Colchester, might suggest that he and Dorcas had two homes, the one in Colchester very possibly shared with one or more of their parents. Thomas was imprisoned in the Fleet Gaol in 1640, for unlicensed preaching in Whitechapel (provoking a riot when constables attempted to break up the meeting); but, by 1641, had established a Baptist congregation in Bell Alley (off Coleman Street, near the Guildhall); by this time, he seems to have been permanently resident in London. He undertook several preaching tours of England, visiting Guildford, Portsmouth, & Devizes; and baptising people in the Severn and the Colne (he seemingly had more sense than to do so in the filthy waters of the Thames at London).</p><p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPH6w6PRsJmFm-qm0CBWZmwPGmDu-r1MAMs3yDf7oI0L5dUqkVQUpMt9nHEyPyxzKwN94YsJm4DkXm7dQ3jxCKXV8va5l6w0t6yb8ER3gnIim-JUXZ3mCW0gXSQP6EAWiFSrQFkisqrSSChdfeDoeBRC9RWwEOUuI2_-Ooo_wXYyVVAzTBUP_q2Kdo=s1123" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPH6w6PRsJmFm-qm0CBWZmwPGmDu-r1MAMs3yDf7oI0L5dUqkVQUpMt9nHEyPyxzKwN94YsJm4DkXm7dQ3jxCKXV8va5l6w0t6yb8ER3gnIim-JUXZ3mCW0gXSQP6EAWiFSrQFkisqrSSChdfeDoeBRC9RWwEOUuI2_-Ooo_wXYyVVAzTBUP_q2Kdo=w285-h400" width="285" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Dippers Dipp'd," from an anti-Baptist pamphlet by Daniel Featley (1649), portraying Baptists as schismatics.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>Lambe's congregation in Bell Alley soon gained a reputation for religious radicalism. The Presbytereian, Thomas Edwards, complained about the role of "mechanicks" (artisans and working people, without formal training in theology) in preaching: Lambe even encouraged women, including a lace-maker, Mrs Attaway, to preach in his church, someting that would not have been permitted in more conventionally "Puritan" congregations (few people in 17th Century England considered themselves to be "Puritans" - the term was almost always used in a derogatory sense, to refer to people who saw themselves as Presbyterians, "Independents" - in modern terms Congregationalists, Baptists, and Quakers). Edwards (whose agenda was to extinguish all forms of "Puritanism" other than his own) raised further objections to Lambe's congregation:</p><p>"<i>Many use to resort to this church and meeting, the house and yards full, especially young youths and wenches flock thither ... in the latter end of the Lord's Day, many persons, some from the separate churches</i> [Independent, Quaker], <i>others from our churches </i>[formerly Anglican, converted to Presbyterian worship], <i>will go to this Lambe's church for novelty, because of the disputes and wranglings that will be there upon questions ... several parties in one room, some speaking in one part, some in another ... </i>"</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqLZl-PIAeeex9XNO-XGfyGn0tKjCqs1SgSK9N1x49kvI_rO8wcpVWRiHPVTgu-rVALOQyddj194Fm8UvDqhV7rz9F_SaVWXfHO7SnsB2Z-ZeZRb7qgo_HOcav5iSArHhkxKikIQIHQNFxRJLfThT-_T7_JUNSal0Xwg8V4TvIY3SreDeTMqMW1DFw=s450" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="450" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqLZl-PIAeeex9XNO-XGfyGn0tKjCqs1SgSK9N1x49kvI_rO8wcpVWRiHPVTgu-rVALOQyddj194Fm8UvDqhV7rz9F_SaVWXfHO7SnsB2Z-ZeZRb7qgo_HOcav5iSArHhkxKikIQIHQNFxRJLfThT-_T7_JUNSal0Xwg8V4TvIY3SreDeTMqMW1DFw=w400-h201" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bell Alley, 17th Century plan.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>Among the questions thus debated by Lambe's congregants was the suggestion, heretical to men such as Edwards, of "universal reconciliation," according to which everyone (or, at the very least, all Christian believers) would ultimately be saved, through the boundless love and grace of Jesus Christ.</p><p>Lambe was a close associate of Richard Overton, also a Baptist (and thus probably a member of Lambe's congregation), and a "Leveller," who ran an undreground printing operation from Bell Alley.</p><p>The Wren Library at Trinity College, Cambridge, holds one of very few surviving copies of Lambe's <i>Treatise of Particular Predestination</i>, printed by Overton, which argues that:</p><p>" ... <i>the spirit of the Gospel, which holds forth Christ's giving himself, a ransom for all men [1 Tim, 6], a propitiation for the sinnes of the whole world [1 John, 2,2], and that he tasted death for every man [Heb.2.9], which is such a glorious truth, as without which first the Gospel of God's free grace cannot be preached to all men.</i>"</p><p>He goes on, in this pamphlet, to argue against the Calvinist notion (accepted by most Presbyterians and Independents, as well as by many less radical Baptists) that only some people have been chosen by God for salvation.<i> </i> </p><p>In 1641, as the battle lines were being drawn up between Charles I and Parliament, "Puritans" within the City of London (already, probably, in a small majority) staged an effective coup, replacing all, or nearly all, of the Anglicans and Royalists on the Common Council with Presbyterians and Independents whose loyalty was to Parliament. Isaac Pennington became the first in a line of "Puritan" Lord Mayors. The new administration quickly formed a "Committee of Safety," and took control of the "London Trained Bands." This militia, which had served for many years as a police and civil defence force, and as an informal fire brigade, would become the backbone of the Parliamentary Infantry, under the command of Philip Skippon, a Presbyterian who had served as a mercenary, on the Protestant side, in the Thirty Years War in Germany. If Thomas Lambe had ever served in the Trained Bands, it would have been in the 1620s, when he was first living in London. Although we do not know when he was born, his date of marriage suggests that, by the 1640s, he would probably have been considered too old for front-line military service.</p><p>Whilst he probably played no active role in the civil wars themselves, he was certainly engaged in the attempt to define the new society that it was hoped would emerge from them. Together with his friends, the printer, Richard Overton; the cheese-monger, Thomas Prince; and other prominent Londoners, including John Lilburne; he was a member of the "Levellers," a movement which some have seen as England's first political party. Initially, in the 1640s, it was a loose alliance of men, who met to discuss political topics, in taverns including The Windmill and The Whalebone, both in Lothbury. One such discussion group was the "Robin Hood Club," and the association with the legendary outlaw was more than accidental. Later, members of these various discussion groups took to wearing a sea-green ribbon, as a means of identifying themselves.</p><p>A "Leveller" manifesto of 1649, signed by Lilburne, Prince, and Overton, sets out what they thought to be at stake: "<i> ... an opportunity which, these 600 years, has been desired, but could never be obtained, of making this a truly happy and wholly free nation ... </i>" </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgarB19-PjmAtDb1O7FlcYgpyO6r_lcGgUcsmf_dIYy0Y7Io2wHtWzsF0XufiP1XYbJ-kIyC69j75NBAHYFx21wEuTUr_T39BGTQbVNeW_VDSJ7dNbk118xFKnIkcICEhXqUg1_U4mmJqi8ZAlV2-dp9BlV3wXuSPUaJxA6V5qUQJTmzTJid7NALRSK=s242" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="172" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgarB19-PjmAtDb1O7FlcYgpyO6r_lcGgUcsmf_dIYy0Y7Io2wHtWzsF0XufiP1XYbJ-kIyC69j75NBAHYFx21wEuTUr_T39BGTQbVNeW_VDSJ7dNbk118xFKnIkcICEhXqUg1_U4mmJqi8ZAlV2-dp9BlV3wXuSPUaJxA6V5qUQJTmzTJid7NALRSK=w284-h400" width="284" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "Leveller" manifesto, 1647.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>The "Levellers" seem to have been a genuinely grass-roots movement, led by artisans and "mechanicks," rather than by intellectuals. Leaving aside John Milton's <i>Areopagitica</i> (1644), which many of these men might indeed have read, but the title of which probably meant little to them, radical tracts of the time, including "Leveller" pamphlets, do not draw their inspirations from the examples of either the Athenian Democracy, or the Roman Republic, nor do they make reference to the constitutional example of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Instead, they draw on folk traditions of Anglo-Saxon resistance to Norman rule (seeing Charles Stuart as the successor of William the Conqueror), including the mythical example of Robin Hood, and the supposedly "consensual" or constitutional basis of rule by the Anglo-Saxon Kings, including Alfred the Great. </p><p>Here, for example, is Gerard Winstanley, writing in 1649 (and criticising not Charles Stuart, who by that stage was dead, but the "Puritan" establishment of the Commonwealth itself):</p><p>"<i>O what mighty delusion, do you, who are the powers of England, live in! That while you pretend to throw down the Norman yoke, and Babylonish power, and have promised to make the groaning people of England a Free People; yet you still lift up that Norman yoke, and slavish tyranny, and holds the People as much in bondage, as the Bastard Conquerour himself, and his Councel of War</i>."<i> </i></p><p>The "Leveller" manifestoes of 1648-49 were radical indeed, including commitments to "manhood suffrage" (the right of every man, possibly excluding servants, to vote); fixed term (biennial) parliaments; "absolute" freedom of religion (it is a little unclear whether this was intended to include Roman Catholics or Jews); the abolition of capital punishment for theft; and the abolition of imprisonment for debt. For so long as these were simply matters for discussion in London taverns, Presbyterians and "Silken" (presumably well-heeled and socially conservative) Independents paid little attention to them, but, by 1647, "Leveller" opinions were gaining currency within the ranks of the New Model Army, which senior commanders, including Oliver Cromwell, took far more seriously.</p><p>In the Putney Debates, chaired by Cromwell, and prompted by arrears in pay to soldiers, the "Leveller," Colonel Thomas Rainsborough, argued that:</p><p>"<i>I think that the poorest hee that is in England hath a life to live, as the greatest hee; and therefore, truly Sir, I think itt clear, that every Man that is to live under a Government ought first by his own Consent to put himself under that Government; and I do think that the poorest man in England is not at all bound in a strict sense to that Government that he hath not had a voice to put Himself under.</i>"</p><p>To which Henry Ireton (Cromwell's son-in-law, and a representative of the Army high command) responded:</p><p>" ... <i>no man hath a right to an interest or share in the disposing of the affairs of the kingdom ... that hath not a permanent fixed interest in this kingdom.</i>"</p><p>Ireton's point was that citizenship, including the right to vote, was only for property owners, a principle that held fast in English law until 1918 (when, incidentally, property qualifications were introducedd for women, just as they were abolished for men). The army grandees listend politely to the arguments in 1647, but did not toleraate them after the talks broke up. In April, 1649, weeks after the execution of Charles I, an NCO and "Leveller," Robert Lockyer, faced a firing squad in the churchyard of Saint Paul's Cathedral, having been charged with mutiny against his officers. At his funeral, a procession of 3000 people included Parliamentary soldiers wearing the sea-green ribbons of the "Levellers." London "Levellers," including Thomas Lambe, are likely to have been in the crowd, and may have given speeches, although none have not been preserved.</p><p>The hopes of London radicals, such as Lambe, Prince, Overton, and Lilburne, were comprehensively dashed when Cromwell took power as Lord Protector in 1653. Thomas Lambe's conventicle had moved, by this stage, from Bell Alley to Smithfield, but we hear nothing of him beyond this date. We do not know the date of his death, or of Dorcas's, and, if they were buried in London, the records are likely to have been destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666.</p><p>The legacy of the "Levellers" proved to be far longer lived than the movement itself: many of their objectives, including manhood suffrage, were taken up by the Chartists, in the 1840s, although they, like the "Levellers" before them, failed to achieve these objectives in their lifetimes. Significantly, Chartist rhetoric drew explicitly on the example of the "Levellers," and of the 14th Century "Peasants' Revolt," more so than on the examples sof democracy or republicanism in the ancient world that had been favoured by some of the French Revolutionaries of the late 18th Century; or the more explicitly socialist themes that marked out 1848 as a "Year of Revolutions" in France, Germany, and Italy.</p><p>We do not, in any direct sense, have the "Levellers" to thank for our current parliamentary democracy, still less for our constitutional monarchy, which most of them would probably have opposed; but the 1640s saw the first moment in our history in which matters of constitutional government, as well as those of religious faith, were freely and openly discussed, not only in the corridors of power, but in taverns, and on the streets, and by "mechanicks," as well as by intellectuals, and by university-educated clergy. </p><p>Many of the ideas that first arose in this moment (manhood suffrage, religious tolerance, the abolition of imprisonment for debt) have been quietly incorporated into our law in the centuries that followed, whilst others (including biennial parliaments) have been dropped for good reasons. The debates themselves, however, continue, and it is in this broader sense, perhaps, that we are, all of us, the sons and daughters of that moment.</p><p> Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://Author.to/MarkPatton" target="_blank">amazon</a>. </p>Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-50009046120690153692020-12-06T09:09:00.000-08:002020-12-06T09:09:01.704-08:00The Streets of Old Westminster: Apsley House and Hyde Park - Military London Past and Present<p>A visitor to London, exploring he City of Westminster, and having visited <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-streets-of-old-westminster-green.html" target="_blank">Green Park</a>, can leave the park by the north-east gate, and turn left onto the south side of Piccadilly. A short walk, passing the RAF Bomber Command Memorial on the left, brings us to Hyde Park Corner, today a confusing "spaghetti junction" of roads and underpasses. In the middle of a traffic island sits the Wellington Arch, designed by Decimus Burton in the 1820s to commemorate the Duke's victory over Napoleon Bonaparte at the Battle of Waterloo. There is a small exhibition space inside the arch, now managed by English Heritage, so it is sometimes possible to go inside.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-h8iuw371xCbm9pGVzeZFoOHqr6p_TV_FZcCwRf3VKEcZAxwAKobWXADOl4YWWhhqo3aaN1HDLGAamS_dOtXMgOugt-eCqk0PazMXBMEy6rCOVYR-kQ9ImpijVWGs1Wiyi6iswin-_w/s1067/Welington+Arch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-h8iuw371xCbm9pGVzeZFoOHqr6p_TV_FZcCwRf3VKEcZAxwAKobWXADOl4YWWhhqo3aaN1HDLGAamS_dOtXMgOugt-eCqk0PazMXBMEy6rCOVYR-kQ9ImpijVWGs1Wiyi6iswin-_w/w300-h400/Welington+Arch.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wellington Arch. Photo: Carlos Delgado (CC-BY-SA).</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The Duke of Wellington himself took up residence in Apsley House, just to the north of the arch, in 1817, two years after the battle, as he planned a political career. Originally built in red brick, in the 1770s, to a design by Robert Adam, it was the Duke who added the facade of Portland stone (many London buildings, which appear to be of stone, are actually built of brick, with a similar stone facade. Apsley House, like Spencer House, is an early example of an aristocratic town house, built in the closing decades of the 18th Century, when the "London Social Season" was coming in to vogue. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidi5JlV5IbBTVjKdwgljkAhwHlD7jbrGCoqHLZuxIDq1Vpr9SIntwXgtMd3S6BWcVHC5BFPq1Ti9LV7Vi2wsGkAFO9jJRiTx0j144prFwhXR3fataSBjG2Hk5j5EYWvH-8RoSpfYAl6SI/s1024/Apsley+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidi5JlV5IbBTVjKdwgljkAhwHlD7jbrGCoqHLZuxIDq1Vpr9SIntwXgtMd3S6BWcVHC5BFPq1Ti9LV7Vi2wsGkAFO9jJRiTx0j144prFwhXR3fataSBjG2Hk5j5EYWvH-8RoSpfYAl6SI/w400-h300/Apsley+House.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apsley House. Photo: Viosan (licensed under GNU). </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>Behind Apsley House is the Queen Elizabeth Gate, leading in to Hyde Park, the third and largest of the royal parks situated in close proximity to one another (the others being <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2019/09/the-streets-of-old-westminster-strange.html" target="_blank">Saint James's Park</a> and Green Park). Following the path to the north, known as Broad Walk, one passes a colossal statue of Achilles, on the right, also intended as a tribute to the Duke of Wellington and his victory. Designed by Richard Westmacott, it was inaugurated in 1822. As the first recorded example of a nude public statue in London, it attracted a good deal of public comment.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZVKEB56nyoJkdNe5x3-13x5DsEQZ7vzykKs_4B1-u9KCSeDK_014eoXudzWhWyJHVH6zOlXlBmOBsGMnDWDwLqoK8MsFp1DQN1-2eU9aqz0J3Zc9Xlv9PyncJdUC7tpc22OIOGzqUwA/s686/Hyde+Park+Achilles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="490" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZVKEB56nyoJkdNe5x3-13x5DsEQZ7vzykKs_4B1-u9KCSeDK_014eoXudzWhWyJHVH6zOlXlBmOBsGMnDWDwLqoK8MsFp1DQN1-2eU9aqz0J3Zc9Xlv9PyncJdUC7tpc22OIOGzqUwA/w286-h400/Hyde+Park+Achilles.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue of Achilles. Photo: Andrew Dunn (licensed under CCA).</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GImUutAfQPRdkkO7zbZqFsK1u0oiMz8qhSYDopSvNgwPcWcVFdqHfnGl_QEGp1Y_noGUeBE4q8rVxTejcOWGF0EX4Oy7kCG2FVWeZJ4-dtQTn9jPGD5XowwcGnqFPRfVpUCYN556VME/s1024/Achilles+Cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="1024" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GImUutAfQPRdkkO7zbZqFsK1u0oiMz8qhSYDopSvNgwPcWcVFdqHfnGl_QEGp1Y_noGUeBE4q8rVxTejcOWGF0EX4Oy7kCG2FVWeZJ4-dtQTn9jPGD5XowwcGnqFPRfVpUCYN556VME/w400-h286/Achilles+Cartoon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George Cruikshank's cartoon of the unveiling of the statue (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Beyond Achilles is a more stark and modern memorial, to those killed in the terrorist atrocities in London on 7th July, 2005, a series of events that I remember well (my then girlfriend was close to the Russell Square bomb, shaken, though unhurt, but she was terrified that I might have gone to the British Library, and got caught up in the King's Cross bomb - in fact, I was at home, working on my biography of Sir John Lubbock). </p><p>The 7/7 Memorial sits on, or close to, the remains of a much earlier piece of London's military history. In 1642, as battle-lines were being drawn up between King Charles I and Parliament, the City of London declared for Parliament. The City's Militia, or "Trained Bands," which would, in time, become the backbone of the Parliamentary Infantry, now joined with thousands of Londoners to build an enormous earthwork, to defend not only "The City," but also the "West End," Lambeth, Southwark, and the docklands to the east.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrsCI-Gt6WUVKAXj2j94pD8w05Jq3sV9_IfDiQ6odXifnKZC5hBiAu8TM8nn-peZftLSWTnptUtN2SMnVAHvNEymEsBai3Y9Zm7eDb_QrW7z_Ez9SlBb5bjoUCYwfA0_LydOaCw6-2XE/s1024/London+Civil+War+defences.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="1024" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrsCI-Gt6WUVKAXj2j94pD8w05Jq3sV9_IfDiQ6odXifnKZC5hBiAu8TM8nn-peZftLSWTnptUtN2SMnVAHvNEymEsBai3Y9Zm7eDb_QrW7z_Ez9SlBb5bjoUCYwfA0_LydOaCw6-2XE/w640-h382/London+Civil+War+defences.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">London's Civil War defences, as sketched by George Vertue in 1738 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5k15lqKJ-WAHuYRMCm0BGJ4LfIub7wfAmUx7rQlbuDm5loUGz27SxTHgJ20loyWvN0zKk_QP5Z2d9J6_fbyF98vvMYxy9CHuQOdiQCpSgCoii3e9TxspE2Mcek-z1Hkry94dwcsOlr14/s600/ROQUE+map+1746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="600" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5k15lqKJ-WAHuYRMCm0BGJ4LfIub7wfAmUx7rQlbuDm5loUGz27SxTHgJ20loyWvN0zKk_QP5Z2d9J6_fbyF98vvMYxy9CHuQOdiQCpSgCoii3e9TxspE2Mcek-z1Hkry94dwcsOlr14/w400-h328/ROQUE+map+1746.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Roque Map (1746) showing the line of the Civil War earthworks running parallel to "Tyburn Lane" (now Park Lane).<br /> </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>One corner of this earthwork must lie beneath Hyde Park, and run parallel to Park Lane (to our right). The management of the Royal Parks are convinced that its outline can be traced in the humps and bumps that are visible today, but other historians are sceptical. There has been a great deal of landscaping in the past two hundred and fifty years, and a geophysical survey (and, perhaps, excavation) would be necessary to distinguish, with any certainty, the earth moved in the 17th Century from that move in the 18th or the 19th. There can be little doubt, however, that the earthwork is there to be found, and, with it, a control point on the road leading from London to Oxford (today's Oxford Street and Bayswater Road), a likely entry point for Royalist spies.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvR_uqoMWhtK2kfEOWg29eGTyTxDox8ASkm27-F1IZu1QwmbFwqtJUvKQN9wF1kZXQoqavm5n-tLus8eHrbBS1c1z48wyDFuVErYDFDlSrUDEI49cBdgyBL_smzPdz35F-TP2Jx0T1HiM/s550/Hyde+Park+Civil+War+Earthwork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="550" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvR_uqoMWhtK2kfEOWg29eGTyTxDox8ASkm27-F1IZu1QwmbFwqtJUvKQN9wF1kZXQoqavm5n-tLus8eHrbBS1c1z48wyDFuVErYDFDlSrUDEI49cBdgyBL_smzPdz35F-TP2Jx0T1HiM/w400-h184/Hyde+Park+Civil+War+Earthwork.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Possible earthwork, to the right of the 7/7 Memorial (photo: www.hydeparkknohow.uk).</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>Hyde Park, as we see it today, was laid out in the 1720s, by Charles Bridgeman, working for George I. Its central water-feature, The Serpentine, was created by damming the Westbourne River. What had previously been a haunt of highwaymen, preying on travellers along the Oxford Road, and a duelling place for offended aristocrats, became a leisure ground for fashionable ladies. In 1851, the park hosted the Great Exhibition, with its Crystal Palace.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkfgYtuZRHJF6CWYS6XeGBosJXds_ty-Y6bbEfO5CVwd6pFE3Q79vl4mBCBS2pdX2P9zjw3iwIDGKklLgZw9ipmPtAEZYRM2ArtvR_FZllPQIuXwhQ2QfqhppatPL57Fsh1dSZbTtwro/s300/300px-Aerial_view_of_Hyde_Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkfgYtuZRHJF6CWYS6XeGBosJXds_ty-Y6bbEfO5CVwd6pFE3Q79vl4mBCBS2pdX2P9zjw3iwIDGKklLgZw9ipmPtAEZYRM2ArtvR_FZllPQIuXwhQ2QfqhppatPL57Fsh1dSZbTtwro/w400-h400/300px-Aerial_view_of_Hyde_Park.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyde Park from the air. Photo: Ben Leto (licensed under CCA).</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0-vimKDKJpaf83iQ67UV3oo9AlHCVUPZbB7Wc5AvYklKnyklrc_Cu_ITGtUYKIggxd_nkeZIn7sd_pSxEKsiprB3VD5RRuseYZai7vRIOfnpWYntXO8ib1pshKj3f1xa0NdAhXYnW0U/s1920/Crystal_Palace_from_the_northeast_from_Dickinson%2527s_Comprehensive_Pictures_of_the_Great_Exhibition_of_1851._1854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="1920" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0-vimKDKJpaf83iQ67UV3oo9AlHCVUPZbB7Wc5AvYklKnyklrc_Cu_ITGtUYKIggxd_nkeZIn7sd_pSxEKsiprB3VD5RRuseYZai7vRIOfnpWYntXO8ib1pshKj3f1xa0NdAhXYnW0U/w400-h216/Crystal_Palace_from_the_northeast_from_Dickinson%2527s_Comprehensive_Pictures_of_the_Great_Exhibition_of_1851._1854.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Crystal Palace (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAjQD18iidCkIUp2PqvCWnA20nDzoo2g8qGsPvUjkNGttSHUcnKR_UWAakNQ1IKX6dB4GUDEEtSRULkK3SJ8H7fGv1hms1g4qoGzH-yRjenQleyQk-N4sFcnEcif20IEJXaw1XKbjbEQ/s1024/Hyde+Park+Serpentine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAjQD18iidCkIUp2PqvCWnA20nDzoo2g8qGsPvUjkNGttSHUcnKR_UWAakNQ1IKX6dB4GUDEEtSRULkK3SJ8H7fGv1hms1g4qoGzH-yRjenQleyQk-N4sFcnEcif20IEJXaw1XKbjbEQ/w400-h300/Hyde+Park+Serpentine.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Serpentine/ Photo: Jamie101 (licensed under CCA).</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3A_KnIHGep7vwWtpBKF4S_WexjgmaFDx0fhXLCHvELWrG1EdYC2VPNUdp3Ty7MeiOjstF7GmZ9jDk1WKCEYPP7UCzoPisBqKVa8EwguWAhvBc_ZPKcyntVPeU58HP3LDbVHAgQWYVf_E/s700/Pissarro_Hyde_Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="700" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3A_KnIHGep7vwWtpBKF4S_WexjgmaFDx0fhXLCHvELWrG1EdYC2VPNUdp3Ty7MeiOjstF7GmZ9jDk1WKCEYPP7UCzoPisBqKVa8EwguWAhvBc_ZPKcyntVPeU58HP3LDbVHAgQWYVf_E/w400-h328/Pissarro_Hyde_Park.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyde Park, by Camille Pissarro. Tokyo Fuji Art Museum (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELojc2xMbvIc1Mq-6jHk0QJxbu1Q4HRy7eMqWzeYascD7VFy_900b5MI6zL6rrKhMRQRO8mc7PZ6lH4AjPKubSzbvzpNSyScexrWam9UQ1BhpAmvzAsSBcN2Czi3MzNAZkqiObOr-_nM/s1200/Hyde+Park+Lady+of+Fashion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="1200" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELojc2xMbvIc1Mq-6jHk0QJxbu1Q4HRy7eMqWzeYascD7VFy_900b5MI6zL6rrKhMRQRO8mc7PZ6lH4AjPKubSzbvzpNSyScexrWam9UQ1BhpAmvzAsSBcN2Czi3MzNAZkqiObOr-_nM/w400-h269/Hyde+Park+Lady+of+Fashion.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Lady of Fashion of the 20th Century," by Claude Allin Shepperson, 1914 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The Military are still present, however. Gun salutes are fired from the park on State occasions, by the Royal Horse Artillery, and, as a sign of changing times, when I last witnessed this ceremony, the commanding officer was, for the first time, a woman. A barracks overlooks the park, and cavalry horses are still exercised along the "rides." What was once the western periphery of the metropolis now sits close to its centre.</p><p>Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://Author.to/MarkPatton" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. </p>Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-86004860171452045712020-11-30T00:50:00.000-08:002020-11-30T00:50:27.330-08:00Virtual Cultural Tourism: A New Departure<p>This is a very brief post, by way of an introduction to our new sister-site, <a href="https://markpattonassociates.blogspot.com/2020/11/virtual-cultural-tourism-new-departure.html" target="_blank">Mark Patton Associates</a>, where, for the first time, I am offering "virtual cultural tours," beginning with a four-day tour of Poland in December, 2020.</p><p>If, like many people that I know, your travel plans over the recent months have been frustrated by the circumstances of the lock-down, and the ongoing uncertainty of Brexit, such tours may well give you something to look forward to over the Christmas break, and into the New Year (we will be announcing new destinations in the coming months). Please click on the link above to learn more.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQEa5M_DM2YZXnqc3l0MDm_ejo599CqGWTq-YPOM1eOjBGb6j5tm0Tl_7F_7m4EgOC_lVrkLLUen_i3_-K2cVb1U_T2Jpr4HHNMnv8EY6WCpxB8zuSDLVmSj6qmxCzJz0Qth_poFp7QM/s1024/Wawel+Castle+from+Vistula+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQEa5M_DM2YZXnqc3l0MDm_ejo599CqGWTq-YPOM1eOjBGb6j5tm0Tl_7F_7m4EgOC_lVrkLLUen_i3_-K2cVb1U_T2Jpr4HHNMnv8EY6WCpxB8zuSDLVmSj6qmxCzJz0Qth_poFp7QM/w400-h300/Wawel+Castle+from+Vistula+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Krakow's Wawel Castle from the River Vistula. Photo: EIGENWERK (licensed under GNU). <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>If, on the other hand, virtual cultural tourism is simply not your thing, please don't worry - the focus of this site will continue to be on history and historical writing, as it always has been, and we will keep the two sites, and the two activities, entirely separate. </p>Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-78368617106086126102020-03-21T07:34:00.000-07:002020-03-21T08:02:15.577-07:00The Streets of Old Westminster: Green Park and Spencer House.A visitor to London, exploring the City of Westminster, and having viewed <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2019/09/the-streets-of-old-westminster-strange.html">Saint James's Park and Buckingham Palace</a>, can enter Green Park via Canada Gate, immediately to the north. Green Park is one of three Royal Parks in close proximity to one another (the others being Saint James's and Hyde Park). It has no buildings or lakes (although the Tyburn Stream runs beneath it), and no flowerbeds, just grass, mature deciduous trees, and, in the spring, daffodils.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1QI0a2F0jFErhtiNzbliYTGD8RdaW6gcAx8k29n4dYe9PZ3KNo6DkgrrlY2bRVAtCos0eUR80RwSKxhYiXJAlW6vDzrR0k3k7l2Y0XUx13d-Semv8G_Cnk5wpgIRzGcCPFoHYBqE1tw/s1600/Green+Park+Canada+Gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1QI0a2F0jFErhtiNzbliYTGD8RdaW6gcAx8k29n4dYe9PZ3KNo6DkgrrlY2bRVAtCos0eUR80RwSKxhYiXJAlW6vDzrR0k3k7l2Y0XUx13d-Semv8G_Cnk5wpgIRzGcCPFoHYBqE1tw/s400/Green+Park+Canada+Gate.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canada Gate. Photo by Jordan 1972 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguu_Fy_VPI3C0ZaCPTOY0QvnR0TpO97oS7RhcdSBWUvTqiJmSveiY0HjrlupSsEq71LSN8kGHwbMP78LActzuLCvmyyLz2Ue06uG3vpmIbovqlFi9wDuTNJOaUXmTWvnGDZfFPLwmYuEg/s1600/Green+Park+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguu_Fy_VPI3C0ZaCPTOY0QvnR0TpO97oS7RhcdSBWUvTqiJmSveiY0HjrlupSsEq71LSN8kGHwbMP78LActzuLCvmyyLz2Ue06uG3vpmIbovqlFi9wDuTNJOaUXmTWvnGDZfFPLwmYuEg/s400/Green+Park+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Park. Photo by David Iliff (License CC BY-SA-3.0).</td></tr>
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The park was first enclosed, in the Sixteenth Century, by the Poultney family, and passed into the hands of the Crown in 1668. It was landscaped, in something like its present form, by John Nash, in 1820, the favoured architect of George IV, who shaped much of what we now think of as the "West End."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11kF8x7IuYad_5TH8BXhDXqfNGsdNzSdhxgz4RBwAMJrFD0lVkwxi-QQ3TwkxCTfCj57QuUelO4cXyYJPlkhSqkUfVIYdUU5JoSj4oIlA3hX9F4-KGbNO6wcuwqPFJJ309AFwKXIfljA/s1600/Green+Park+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11kF8x7IuYad_5TH8BXhDXqfNGsdNzSdhxgz4RBwAMJrFD0lVkwxi-QQ3TwkxCTfCj57QuUelO4cXyYJPlkhSqkUfVIYdUU5JoSj4oIlA3hX9F4-KGbNO6wcuwqPFJJ309AFwKXIfljA/s400/Green+Park+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Park. Phto by Jordan 1972 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Even before Nash's time, however, the fringes of Green Park had become fashionable as a location for the residences of the wealthy and powerful, those who had every reason to locate themselves in close proximity to the Royal Court. As the Eighteenth Century progressed, and the memories of Civil War faded, it became increasingly common for aristocratic families to spend at least part of the year in London. The idea of the "social season" was born: the German composer, George Frideric Handel, set up residence at London in 1713, anticipating the arrival of his patron, George, Elector of Hanover, soon to be crowned as George I of England. Handel brought with him new tastes in Italian opera, which many young aristocrats would have encountered in the course of their <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-grand-tour-classical-antiquity-and.html">Grand Tours</a>. Now they could enjoy it at the heart of their own capital city, and share the experience with their wives and families. Opera, however, was just one element of the social season, the main point of which was to see and be seen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZK-BIwuuud1ApbbRfNSf1WlQyz_lzfSbXIT7-vhWZqINjWnAxrOq6GWrUd785w6aZQjgyuINv_d9PHzK8DqEd4TYd8Cqsh-QWwyd0akhnk5KnS9AX3-At9BFMup-t1zGZUzscE2ZX7I/s1600/Green+Park+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1280" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZK-BIwuuud1ApbbRfNSf1WlQyz_lzfSbXIT7-vhWZqINjWnAxrOq6GWrUd785w6aZQjgyuINv_d9PHzK8DqEd4TYd8Cqsh-QWwyd0akhnk5KnS9AX3-At9BFMup-t1zGZUzscE2ZX7I/s400/Green+Park+map.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Park, c 1833, by W. Schmollinger (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbEutGMtZ-XOdXhL5biUbm8GsFIQuP4oW1mutCLW7gqGzA-37_CdaibjMofDaqZsCTjN3zPIqk7U2CkKHfO_ca3_54wQ81kFixIKfYiJhN7mPZtA-JcPE1OoZS4GI8pMfRiYHU3sETCA/s1600/Green_Park%252C_London%252C_England_and_Constitution_Hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbEutGMtZ-XOdXhL5biUbm8GsFIQuP4oW1mutCLW7gqGzA-37_CdaibjMofDaqZsCTjN3zPIqk7U2CkKHfO_ca3_54wQ81kFixIKfYiJhN7mPZtA-JcPE1OoZS4GI8pMfRiYHU3sETCA/s400/Green_Park%252C_London%252C_England_and_Constitution_Hill.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Park. Photo b Jordan 1972 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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There is one aristocratic house overlooking Green Park, which can (in ordinary times, which these are not) be visited on Sundays. This is <a href="https://www.spencerhouse.co.uk/">Spencer House</a>, commissioned, in 1756, by John, the 1st Earl Spencer (an ancestor of the late Princess Diana). The exterior of the house was designed by John Vardy (a pupil of William Kent), and the interiors (largely) by James Stuart, recently returned from a sojourn in Athens, where he had drawn inspiration from ancient art and architecture that was beyond the reach of most "Grand Tourists." Tours of the house which must be booked in advance, take in the "State Rooms" (Ante-Room, Library, Dining Room, Palm Room, Music Room, Lady Spencer's Room, Great Room, and Painted Room), which, together, make up one of the earliest and finest examples of Neo-Classical domestic architecture in the British Isles (I am unable to post photographs of the interior here, but a virtual tour may be had on the <a href="https://www.spencerhouse.co.uk/state-rooms/">Spencer House website</a>).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0iQ-T_oFb8RqHYdoh3ohwSpcs83K9FuxRynBz6CGyGsrNaZ18_9-2rgHhKoq9EHj-88IPKd8qoikvvucMxzQAfy9bZiO1d2svTDtPJBNxOo2wrYCk2QzLUfHdZlXSDoo1yPHOUII0Vg/s1600/Spencer_House_Thomas_Malton_Jr_pub_1800_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="372" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0iQ-T_oFb8RqHYdoh3ohwSpcs83K9FuxRynBz6CGyGsrNaZ18_9-2rgHhKoq9EHj-88IPKd8qoikvvucMxzQAfy9bZiO1d2svTDtPJBNxOo2wrYCk2QzLUfHdZlXSDoo1yPHOUII0Vg/s400/Spencer_House_Thomas_Malton_Jr_pub_1800_edited.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spencer House in c 1800, by Thomas Malton Jr (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The "social season" changed the face of London: aristocratic families arrived with retinues of servants, but word soon got around that there were opportunities in service in the capital, and the flow of migrants from the countryside to the capital increased. There were opportunities, too, in retail, and in related industries, such as dress-making and millinery. Great houses had much need of groceries, porcelain, glassware, furniture, and fabrics, and streets such as Piccadilly, Jermyn Street, and Saville Row, grew up to meet these needs. A handful of the businesses established at the time, such as Fortnum & Mason, are still trading today.<br />
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The world of Eighteenth Century London was one in which there were few restrictions on business, or limits to ambition, but it was also one without social protection or safety nets. In the words of John Gay's (1728) <i>Beggar's Opera</i> (itself a parody of the Italian operas playing in the West End): "<i>The gamesters and lawyers are jugglers alike/If they meddle your all is in danger/like gypsies, if once they can finger a souse/Your pockets they'll pick and they'll pilfer your house/And give your estate to a stranger.</i>"<br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be ordered from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-80450151681168904962020-01-06T07:55:00.003-08:002020-01-06T07:55:43.279-08:00Great Books of 2019: The Matter of Troy Revisited2019 has been an unusual year, in that the short-lists for major literary awards have included a number of novels which take their inspiration, directly or indirectly, from one of the oldest stories in the European literary canon: that of the Siege of Troy, and its immediate aftermath. This story may well have its origins in the intertwined realities and mythologies of the Aegean Bronze Age, and finds its earliest literary manifestation in Homer's <i>Iliad</i> and <i>Odyssey</i>, thought to have been written down for the first time in the mid-8th Century BC. These foundational texts have already influenced writers over more than a hundred generations, from Aeschylus & Sophocles; through Vergil and Ovid; to Shakespeare, Milton, and James Joyce (they even influenced Dante and Chaucer, who could read not a single sentence of Homer, but rather relied on the versions of the story recorded by the later Latin writers). For a writer of the 21st Century to situate himself or herself in this tradition is to make a bold claim, but also to take on a great challenge. What can such a writer possibly add to a story that has been constantly reworked in the course of 2800 years?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthRhnkTs9wW53vEko1WhFxp4MSDhhWYyi6QytLZ3Q3aGC28Bv6_77kQWD-iRphOHVdXvQZH8WD0pjcsMAn7thws0vBSmBnYvUowTq4InhxFOuG6bQNrn3xfBx-12zUc77nGCDNHbqPSA/s1600/British+Museum+Paris+vase+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="539" data-original-width="750" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthRhnkTs9wW53vEko1WhFxp4MSDhhWYyi6QytLZ3Q3aGC28Bv6_77kQWD-iRphOHVdXvQZH8WD0pjcsMAn7thws0vBSmBnYvUowTq4InhxFOuG6bQNrn3xfBx-12zUc77nGCDNHbqPSA/s400/British+Museum+Paris+vase+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vase, found at Thebes, possibly depicting the abduction of Helen by Paris. Photo: British Museum. This vessel, dated c 735 BC, may have been made during Homer's lifetime.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5tNkEWX7PwbTkFcS5QfLkYvrBGQZgdX7Ad7HwrrAnWz6q9ld1yw2vxvEbmKSSYKFw4V5OvFbdxSUW5FObF1CMhbeJrUoLMVn6y89xVzIL2KXO5PZ6EjlVVxU3c9BQV1BJ6Hk4Gbt2fo/s1600/British+Museum+Paris+vase+detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="750" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5tNkEWX7PwbTkFcS5QfLkYvrBGQZgdX7Ad7HwrrAnWz6q9ld1yw2vxvEbmKSSYKFw4V5OvFbdxSUW5FObF1CMhbeJrUoLMVn6y89xVzIL2KXO5PZ6EjlVVxU3c9BQV1BJ6Hk4Gbt2fo/s320/British+Museum+Paris+vase+detail.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detail of the vase above.</td></tr>
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Homer and Vergil were epic poets, not historical novelists, and the novelist, unlike the poet, is almost invariably concerned with viewpoint, since that, arguably, is what makes the novel a novel. The default viewpoint of the epic poet is that of the <i>rhapsode</i> himself, even if he narrates through his protagonist (Odysseus, for example): he is omniscient; party even to the deliberations of the gods; and inevitably male. For Pat Barker, in <i>The Silence of the Girls</i>, and for Natalie Haynes, in <i>A Thousand Ships</i>, the point, then, is to tell the old story from new (and specifically female) viewpoints. Both of these novels take their lead from Homer's <i>Iliad</i>, and neither takes any great liberties with the story itself.<br />
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Barker takes (for the most part) a single female viewpoint: that of Briseis, the enslaved woman from a city allied to Troy, over whom Achilles and Agamemnon quarrel. She follows most of the conventions of the realist novel, and paints a vivid picture of life, in slavery, in an enemy camp. Barker is not the first novelist to narrate the story from Briseis's point of view (<a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2014/12/great-books-of-2014-my-personal-choices.html">Judith Starkston</a> does so in <i>Hand of Fire</i>, and with a good deal more historical attention to the cultural context of the Anatolian Bronze Age), but she does so with great humanity and compassion, and with an understanding of the realities of war that she has honed over years of writing about more recent conflicts:<br />
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<i>"The hospital hut filled with men tossing and turning in sweaty sheets. The few brave enough to visit their friends carried lemons stuck with twigs of rosemary and bay, but nothing could keep the noxious fumes out of your lungs. This was not the coughing plague so some of those who fell ill did survive, but many didn't. By the end of the first week, men were dying in such numbers that funerals could no longer be dignified rituals honouring the dead. Instead, bodies were transported under cover of darkness t a deserted part of the beach to be disposed of as swiftly and secretly as possible. Corpse fires were visible from Troy and nobody wanted the Trojans to know how many Greeks were dying, so often five or six bodies would be thrown on to a single pyre.</i>"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQdPOUHZUcf57wlOEgGIPeXW4WU1MIzB269lgDx8u5o48tuxZzniGkToFbwE9E623TD3uAnp7YKm3VPwcSoyP88MvazZxq4oId6T-9bucJtZOCpsiy1QJLgFYOwBAO12nyFYiUs6ER2E/s1600/Pat+Baker+Silence+of+the+Girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="261" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQdPOUHZUcf57wlOEgGIPeXW4WU1MIzB269lgDx8u5o48tuxZzniGkToFbwE9E623TD3uAnp7YKm3VPwcSoyP88MvazZxq4oId6T-9bucJtZOCpsiy1QJLgFYOwBAO12nyFYiUs6ER2E/s320/Pat+Baker+Silence+of+the+Girls.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
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Barker does, at times, depart from Briseis's viewpoint and narrates, either omisciently, or from the viewpoint of other characters (Patroclus, for example), but I found these departures distracting, rather than enlightening, given the clear focus of the novel as a whole.<br />
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Haynes, on the other hand, makes a virtue of her frequent switches in viewpoint: Briseis is one of her protagonists, but so is Calliope (the Muse of Epic Poetry), Creusa (the wife of Aeneas), Iphigenia (the daughter of Agamemnon), Penelope (the wife of Odysseus) and "The Trojan Women" as a group. Her descriptions of the squalor of the Greek camp were, for me, less vivid than Barker's, but this is balanced by the delightfully poignant humour of some of her viewpoints, notably Penelope's. Haynes draws, not only on Homer's <i>Iliad</i> and <i>Odyssey</i>, but also on Euripides's <i>Trojan Women</i> and <i>Hecabe</i>, Vergil's <i>Aeneid</i>, and Ovid's <i>Heroides</i>.<br />
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"<i>Sing Muse, he says, and the edge in his voice makes it clear that this is not a request. If I were minded to accede to his wish, I might say that he sharpens his tone on my name, like a warrior drawing his dagger across a whetstone, preparing for the morning's battle. But I am not in the mood to be a muse today. Perhaps he hasn't thought of what it is like to be me. Certainly he hasn't: like all poets, he thinks only of himself. But it is surprising that he hasn't considered how many other men there are like him, every day, all demanding my unwavering attention and support. How much epic poetry does the world really need?"</i><br />
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It is surely a misfortune, both for Barker, and for Haynes, that they embarked upon these projects at more or less the same time. They are very different writers, with very different approaches, and rather different backgrounds, but they have chosen the same material, the same events, the same characters, and I wonder how many readers will have the appetite for both? I read them both because the "reception" of Greek classics by later writers, including my own contemporaries, is one of the topics that I teach; but perhaps what is missing, in both cases, is something more than merely a different viewpoint (or set of viewpoints) to distinguish these works from all the reworkings that have come before?<br />
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Madeline Miller, in <i>Circe</i>, takes her inspiration from <i>The Odyssey</i>, rather than <i>The Iliad.</i> Again, the emphasis is on a different (and female) viewpoint, that of the witch, Circe, who turns Odysseus's men into pigs, and delays his return home. Circe, however, is immortal, and this creates a difficulty for a novelist. When I tell my students that the novel, as a literary form, is fundamentally concerned with <i>viewpoint</i>, I take for granted that the viewpoint is a human one, and that there is much that can remain unsaid, simply on the basis of our shared humanity: this includes our mortality, our sexuality (the fact of it, rather than its specific nature), our embededness in institutions and relationships that existed before we were born, and will continue to exist after we are dead. Circe is not human, and there is therefore much about her existence that cannot remain unsaid, that must rather be explained. I found these explanations a good deal more distracting than Barker's occasional shifts of viewpoint, precisely, in this instance, because I already understood the concepts that were being explained:<br />
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"<i>The fury did not bother with lecture. She was a goddess of torment and understood the eloquence of violence. The sound of the whip was a crack like oaken branches breaking. Prometheus' shoulders jerked and a gash opened in his side long as my arm. All around me indrawn breaths hissed like water on hot rocks. The fury lifted her lash again ... The wounds of gods heal fast, but the Fury knew her business and was faster ... I had understood gods could bleed, but I had never seen it. He was one of the greatest of our kind, and the drops that fell from him were golden, smearing his back with a terrible beauty.</i>"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWyIPF_EnR3nWkoZ2BddrB0JcwbvpKTVU83QRyCBvB6fK4wrZWmmr5wOZ3xzqCE5SVyxv1cH2wj00xLvgu5UhCZ0O56Fn4zDRN8Zu3MrQTrh7yiYDr2K3LW4B-sIq5n7u4pX419aKG7s/s1600/Madeline+Miller+Circe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="261" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWyIPF_EnR3nWkoZ2BddrB0JcwbvpKTVU83QRyCBvB6fK4wrZWmmr5wOZ3xzqCE5SVyxv1cH2wj00xLvgu5UhCZ0O56Fn4zDRN8Zu3MrQTrh7yiYDr2K3LW4B-sIq5n7u4pX419aKG7s/s320/Madeline+Miller+Circe.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
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Miller does not confine herself to Homer's account: being immortal, Circe exists before Odysseus, and continues to exist after him (his departure from her island is, in a sense, the tipping point of the novel); like Haynes, she draws on other sources (one could almost believe that she has read the lost - or perhaps, mythical - <i>Telegoniad</i>, as well as the <i>Iliad</i> and <i>Odyssey</i>), and there is a twist in the tale of Circe's relationship with Odysseus. The twist, however, comes before the end, and that means that "the end," when it comes, is something of an anti-climax.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GqSZilt-SIajhgULBMp5eD8CtWPhvYEBhdM3Zp9svDaZh0sHxGs7kdfPpLXDAc-RNOdAKbz7pFzyWjUML_VYz_EGRRcnO-wd2WZS3jOJeGaPhplnT7QJ0S08WU0BXSPIa64Ux31CE3A/s1600/Sophilos+Dinos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="941" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GqSZilt-SIajhgULBMp5eD8CtWPhvYEBhdM3Zp9svDaZh0sHxGs7kdfPpLXDAc-RNOdAKbz7pFzyWjUML_VYz_EGRRcnO-wd2WZS3jOJeGaPhplnT7QJ0S08WU0BXSPIa64Ux31CE3A/s400/Sophilos+Dinos.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sophilos Dinos, in the British Museum, made c 580-570 BC, and depicting the wedding of Peleus and Thetis (the parents of Achilles).</td></tr>
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Chigozie Obioma's <i>An Orchestra of Minorities</i> is a very different sort of novel: it is not a work of historical fiction, and does not share characters with, or recreate the events described in, Homer's <i>Iliad</i> or <i>Odyssey</i>. <i>The Odyssey</i> is invoked, but only a few times, and in passing (the protagonist has read a version of it a long time ago). What is shared with the Homeric epic is its broad themes and structure (a man leaves his homeland with a clear purpose in mind; he undertakes a long, arduous, and perilous journey; and ultimately returns, a changed and damaged man, to find that the realities that he thought he was coming back to have changed utterly).<br />
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The wanderer is not Greek, but Nigerian, and he travels, not as a warrior to Troy, but as a student to Northern Cyprus, where he finds that he has been deceived and defrauded by someone he had thought of as a friend. Like the other books here, Obioma's novel is bound up with mythology, but it is the mythology of the Igbo people of Nigeria, and it is only partially explained, which, for me, made the book more, not less, exciting. The viewpoint of the novel is not that of the protagonist, Chinonso, himself, but rather that of his <i>Chi</i>, a sort of guardian spirit, accountable, not to its human "host," but to the Igbo pantheon of deities and ancestral spirits.<br />
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"<i>Chukwu, it struck him now, in this distant country of sky and dust and strange men, that what she feared that day had no happened to him. A poultry farmer named Jamike Nwaorji, having groomed him for some time, having plucked excess feathers from his body, having fed him with mash and millet, having let him graze about gaily, having probably staunched a leg wounded by a stray nail, had now sealed him up in a cage. And all he could do now, all there was to do now, was cry and wail. He had now joined many others, all the people Tobe had listed who had been defrauded of their belongings - the Nigerian girl near the police station, the man at the airport, all those who have been captured against their will to do what they did not want to do either in the past or the present, all who have been forced into joining an entity they do not wish to belong to, and countless others. All who have been chained and beaten, whose lands have been plundered, whose civilisations have been destroyed, who have been silenced, raped, shamed and killed. With all these people, he'd come to share a common fate. They were the minorities of this world whose only recourse was to join this universal orchestra in which all there was to do was cry and wail.</i>"<br />
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In the twenty-eight centuries since the death of Homer, his stories of the fall of Troy have been retold many times. Take, for example, the <i>Ephaemeris Belli Trojani</i> of Dictys Cretensis (c 350 AD), or the <i>Roman de Troie</i> of Benoit de Ste-Maure (c 1160), or the <i>Historia Destructionis Troiae</i> of Guido delle Colonne (c 1287): these texts are historically important, in that they kept those stories alive in a world in which Greek was no longer understood, but, in literary terms, they hardly rank as canonical. Those reworkings of the "Matter of Troy" (in Medieval Europe, it became subsumed under the "Matter of Rome," which, even before Vergil's time, was believed to have been founded by the descendants of Trojan refugees) that have really counted, that have shaped the development of European and World literature, have been those that have transformed, rather than those that have simply retold those stories: Vergil's focus on the journey of a refugee, rather than that of a conquering hero; Dante's elision of Classical and Catholic ideas of the afterlife; Milton's Protestant epic, which grants real agency to the universal anti-hero; and James Joyce's adoption of the epic idiom to the daily realities of life in early Twentieth Century Dublin. If we are looking, in this young century of ours, for an heir to this great tradition, my money would be on Chigozie Obioma. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roman Republican coin of C. Mamilius Limetanius (c 82 BC), depicting Odysseus.</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-13230240138076714332019-12-08T07:39:00.003-08:002019-12-09T03:00:55.238-08:00The Ghosts of the Day: A New Short StoryAs we approach the end of 2019, and to mark the 180th anniversary, this year, of the birth of photography, I am releasing this short story, which I wrote a few years ago.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
Ghosts of the Day.</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles Bitry de Brullioles
considered himself a connoisseur in all things, but he liked to keep distinct the
varied compartments of his life, savouring the joys of each in its proper time
and place. Generally in the mornings, when he left his apartment on the Place
des Vosges, he would walk through the narrow, dark and crowded streets of Paris
towards the Greek and Egyptian Museum in the palace of the Louvre, where he was
engaged in the copying and translation of hieroglyphic inscriptions. On this
June morning, however, he had agreed to do a favour for a friend, and he
therefore made his way in the opposite direction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">His route took him along the broader boulevards towards a <i>quartier</i> that he normally visited only
in the evenings, or on Sundays after Mass. The night’s soft rain had left a
film of water on the pavement, which shimmered like quicksilver in the light of
the ascending sun. The light dazzled him, momentarily, as he crossed the Rue
Froissart, and he was grateful for the shade of the plane trees on the
Boulevard des Filles-du-Calvaire. One of his ancient great-aunts had spent her
life as a “girl of the calvary,” a Benedictine nun in the convent that had once
stood thereabouts. Thoughts of other girls, however, now intruded on his mind. He
wondered how he would feel if he were to encounter, at this unaccustomed hour,
one of the actresses or circus-girls with whom he had only recently spent an
evening. He wondered, also, how they would respond to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The new market was crowded with people, and the
costermongers were in full-cry. “Old clothes for sale!” “Who’ll buy a bonnet
for eight <i>sous</i>?” “Pencils, sir,
pencils!” “Sealing wax, wax, wax, wax!” Crouched on the pavement, a blind man
with a parrot on his shoulder begged for alms. Charles reached into his pocket,
took out a few sous and dropped them into the man’s lap. The bird squawked its
thanks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles quickened his pace as he walked past the theatres
on the Boulevard du Temple. The Funambules, the Cirque Olympique, the Lazzari,
the doors to all of them were firmly shut. Although there was a steady stream
of people walking in both directions along the pavement, and noisy processions
of phaetons, carts and barouches clattering over the cobbles of the road, the
side-shows were all closed up and their barkers silenced. No stilt-walkers
picked their way between the people gazing in fruiterers’ windows. No dancers
peered down from the taut rope stretched high above them between buildings on
either side of the road.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcEzvjO_11caPrWYVTGg3Edw2Cw2QBMEvKSz2Hl0fhZvrjki01YKyZ7eZfI0Nth98M7cKph_v6P9fANojW6DassPV08g-qxMeomQ-Eb8o-yXK7HQk9JzH4u-3_bN0e9AgBAy13nrvFxI/s1600/Theatres_of_the_boulevard_du_Temple_%2528with_labels%2529_-_Walsh_1981_p20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="1600" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcEzvjO_11caPrWYVTGg3Edw2Cw2QBMEvKSz2Hl0fhZvrjki01YKyZ7eZfI0Nth98M7cKph_v6P9fANojW6DassPV08g-qxMeomQ-Eb8o-yXK7HQk9JzH4u-3_bN0e9AgBAy13nrvFxI/s640/Theatres_of_the_boulevard_du_Temple_%2528with_labels%2529_-_Walsh_1981_p20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theatres of the Boulevard du Temple, c 1862 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrBvR_ZxFv8T8-0Uv4vMDB0nuFhyphenhyphenl2JWwLGPwrEt_C3pbmqrbfjSTIyOulSaySXSMIWVDKkpdUkPuDngZcz4t1U_jggwEbFro0MGJoNlsGAQnYtQJYTkuvoI5DUPfwK_zMcK4cGyAW-A/s1600/Boulevard+du+Temple+theatres+painting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="1600" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrBvR_ZxFv8T8-0Uv4vMDB0nuFhyphenhyphenl2JWwLGPwrEt_C3pbmqrbfjSTIyOulSaySXSMIWVDKkpdUkPuDngZcz4t1U_jggwEbFro0MGJoNlsGAQnYtQJYTkuvoI5DUPfwK_zMcK4cGyAW-A/s640/Boulevard+du+Temple+theatres+painting.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theatres of the Boulevard du Temple, c 1862, by Adolphe Martial Potemont (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">What was new, however, was the smell of freshly baked
bread. Charles felt someone brush against him. He looked around, and there was
the queen of the rope-dancers, Madame Saqui herself, both feet planted on <i>terra firma</i>, and without her gaudy
costume, her feather headdress or her make-up. She had just come out of a
baker’s shop with a baguette in one hand and a basket of vegetables in the other.
He had never been so close to her, and she was much older than he had imagined,
her face wrinkled and eyes downcast. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz452RBLyExSiKEr3sf7yzrRNS5YuzEkEH6iiVAPyk26HdxJeXmwnD2fDdFTbsKBE6WelI8mhv7bfRHBxQsR8_cgkw0w4asQ6rysemdHWEu-cr7o9RQ7IXNg-xdOR_sFcMQ5BpCHDIRyY/s1600/Madame_Saqui.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="663" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz452RBLyExSiKEr3sf7yzrRNS5YuzEkEH6iiVAPyk26HdxJeXmwnD2fDdFTbsKBE6WelI8mhv7bfRHBxQsR8_cgkw0w4asQ6rysemdHWEu-cr7o9RQ7IXNg-xdOR_sFcMQ5BpCHDIRyY/s320/Madame_Saqui.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madame Saqui, from P. Ginisty (1907), <i>Memoires d'une Danseuse de Cord, </i>Private Publication (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He glanced beyond her, and his heart almost stopped. In the
queue for the bakery were two younger women with whom he had enjoyed a much
closer acquaintance, Arlette and Amandine, the two dwarves from the Funambules.
Arlette smiled at him, but it was a quick, discreet smile, and she turned away
immediately to talk to her sister, who seemed not to have noticed him at all. He
hurried on his way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Beside a water-pump on the street corner, a boot-black polished
a man’s shoes. Charles checked his
pocket watch. It was five minutes to eight. He waited until the boy had
finished and the man had paid. Then he approached the boy, who looked up at
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Do you want your shoes polished, <i>Monsieur</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles glanced down and saw a splash of white paint on the
pavement beside the boy’s box. He nodded, and tapped the box twice with the tip
of his cane. The boy’s mouth opened in a broad grin that revealed a missing
front tooth. Charles put his right shoe up for the boy to polish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You don’t live round here, do you sir, but I have seen you
before. Was it last Saturday?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No,” said Charles. “I don’t come here on Saturdays. I go
to confession on Saturdays. I come here sometimes in the evenings, and on
Sundays after Mass.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The boy applied the polish, and then went to work with his
brush. He was, Charles judged, about sixteen, with tanned skin and a mop of
dark, wiry hair. His clothes were old, and did not fit him well, perhaps passed
down from an older brother, but they were clean and unpatched.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Have you always lived here?” Charles asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No sir. We lived at Toulon, but my father was killed in
the war in North Africa. That was when I was eight. My mother brought us to
Paris to live with our uncle. At least it’s easier to find work here than it is
at Toulon. If I ever go back it will be to join the Navy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The boy paused. “I think I’ve finished this shoe, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles bent down and whispered, “No, carry on.” Then he
straightened his back and looked around him. Men and women passed close on both
sides, brushing against his own back, and against the boy’s. One man stopped, and
seemed to be looking at them. He whispered something to a dirty-faced boy. Charles
had seen this man before. He had been dining at the Café Vincent with Estrella,
one of the riders from the Cirque Olympique, and the man walked in. He
remembered the look of fear on her face when she saw him. She had whispered his
name, Barentin he thought it was, involved in extortion and the like. Charles
felt his skin prickle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Shall I polish the other shoe now?” asked the boy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles nodded, and shifted so that his left foot was on
the box, keeping Barentin in view as closely as he dared without allowing his
gaze to become obvious. He forced a smile and looked back at the boy. “Does
your mother work?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“When we first came she found work in a café, but then she
fell sick, and after that she couldn’t find work. My sister and I have to take
care of her now. Anne-Marie goes out to the market and buys some meat, she and
mother make it into pies, and I sell them outside the theatres in the evening.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">That must have been where the boy had seen him. There were
often pie-sellers hanging around as people left the theatre. He was always
escorting someone to dinner, so had never bought one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">An old woman leaned across the boy to draw water from the
pump. “Stupid place to set up your stall,” she muttered under her breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She threw water in the boy’s face, and he recoiled. Charles
shooed her away with his cane. He turned again to the boy. “How many pies do
you sell in an evening?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Twenty on a good night,
less than half of that if it’s raining.” He paused. “I think your shoes are
done now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles checked his watch. Twenty minutes past eight. He
searched around for Barentin, but he was nowhere to be seen. He looked down at
his shoes, now polished as perfectly as a cuirassier’s boots. “Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He took two silver <i>écus</i>
from his pocket and placed them into the boy’s hand. The boy’s mouth fell open.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Put them away,” Charles whispered urgently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The boy put the coins into his trouser pocket and Charles
turned to walk away, but the boy picked up his box and followed him, tugging at
his coat. “Please sir, I’m afraid. I
don’t know what to do with coins like these. Someone will steal them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles seized the boy’s shoulder. He was about to tell him
to pull himself together and get lost when he saw in the boy’s eyes the same
look of terror that he had seen in Estrella when faced by Barentin. “Follow
me,” he said, releasing his grip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The cafés were not yet open for business but the door of
the Café Vincent was ajar. Peering in, Charles saw the waitress, Colette,
setting the tables. “She knows me well enough,” he thought. He turned to the
boy. “In here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Colette walked towards them. “I’m afraid we don’t open
until nine o’clock…oh, Monsieur Charles, I didn’t expect to see you!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He doffed his hat to her. “Can we sit down in a corner? It’s
important.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes, of course,” she said, pointing to a table at the back
of the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The boy looked around in apparent amazement at the green
marble columns and the large silvered mirrors hanging on the walls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Can I get you something to drink?” Colette asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Two coffees, please,” said Charles then, looking at the
boy, “I think he could do with something stronger. Can we have two cognacs as
well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What is your name?” Charles asked, hoping to put the boy
at his ease.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Gaston, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, Gaston, let me have those coins back for a moment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Gaston placed them on the table and, when Colette came back
with the drinks, Charles asked if she would exchange them for bronze coins. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“How many are there?” Gaston asked when she brought them to
the table in a bowl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Two hundred and forty <i>sous</i>
in total,” said Charles, “but these are two-<i>sol</i>
coins, so a hundred and twenty. Now put some in each of your pockets….” he took
a cotton handkerchief from his pocket, “and wrap some in this and put them in
your box, and take them all home. Don’t walk around with them any more than you
have to. Buy enough polish to last you a year, and buy some laces to sell to
people. Shoelaces always break at the most inconvenient moment. You could buy
other things to sell, too. Combs, for example, dog collars, I don’t know….” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Gaston beamed at him over the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles lifted his brandy glass in a toast. Gaston clinked
his glass, then took a large gulp and spluttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“My God, that’s no way to drink cognac,” said Charles.
“Russians drink like that, Frenchmen don’t! Sip it, like this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Imitating Charles, Gaston twirled his glass, then took a
sip, smaller this time, and smiled. “Is this what gentlemen drink?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles laughed. “You don’t have to be a gentleman to drink
it, but be careful. It’s strong, and the more you drink the more you want. I’ve
seen men drink their way through more <i>écus</i>,
in the space of a single evening, than you have sous in your box and pockets.”
He did not say, as he might have done, that he had occasionally done so
himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When they had finished their drinks, Charles settled the
bill and shook hands with Gaston, and they went their separate ways, Gaston to stash
his money safely, Charles hoped, and he himself towards the Louvre and his
inscriptions. He had not walked more than a few metres, however, when he caught
sight of Estrella on the other side of the road. There was no mistaking her
sleek, black hair. She was walking arm in arm with one of the strongmen from
the circus, an absurd caricature of a man, Charles thought, with biceps that
seemed to have a life of their own, and a moustache and sideburns without a
beard. At first he was shocked, but he realised quickly enough that he had neither
right nor reason to be. They appeared to be deep in conversation, and he walked
on quickly, hoping that she had not spotted him, or at least that she might not
have realised that he had noticed her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A dark shadow of guilt descended on Charles as he walked
away, and he was not sure why. It was not about the way he had treated the
people of the Boulevard. After all, he had treated Gaston kindly, plied Estrella
with Champagne fit for a queen, practically drowned Arlette and Amandine in the
finest vintages of the most noble wines. Perhaps it was more a sense that, on
this particular morning, he had impinged upon their world at a time when he had
no business being there, seen into corners of it that they had not chosen to
show him. It felt like spying on a woman through a keyhole. He knew very well
that he would not welcome them strolling into the Louvre when he was discussing
inscriptions with <i>Monsieur le Comte</i> de
Forbin, or taking their places next to him at the <i>table d’hote</i> at the Brussels Hotel. He quickened his pace, anxious
to return to his own daytime world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles spent the rest of the
day with his inscriptions, had a brief conversation with <i>Monsieur le Comte</i>, and took lunch, as usual, at the Brussels Hotel,
where he enjoyed the convivial company of a retired colonel who had fought for
the emperor in the shadow of the pyramids themselves. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhia4JM6N9tmXmw4AAXPbwOwvfN_XbyBNyQ2HDsuJuqljbcW94AXx8Ia12KJbNye_PGKhOr_kUM9RKmi0x1mGTuxj_BzS1P7pGhtrxNUqmXIyyxUaqbURvnYhkWs-MWR3TKUjCDd27md-E/s1600/Musee+du+Louvre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="550" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhia4JM6N9tmXmw4AAXPbwOwvfN_XbyBNyQ2HDsuJuqljbcW94AXx8Ia12KJbNye_PGKhOr_kUM9RKmi0x1mGTuxj_BzS1P7pGhtrxNUqmXIyyxUaqbURvnYhkWs-MWR3TKUjCDd27md-E/s320/Musee+du+Louvre.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Musee de Louvre (in the background are the ruins of the church of St-Louis-de-la-Louvre, destroyed during the French Revolution), by Etienne Bouhot (1822), Musee Carnavalet (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He walked back to his apartment on the Place des Vosges and
was not surprised when his valet handed him a note from his friend, the artist,
Louis Daguerre, inviting Charles to call on him later that evening. Charles had
done a small favour for this friend, though he did not quite understand what it
had all been about, and he was intrigued to know more. Louis was as much a
showman as he was an artist, and enjoyed his little secrets and surprises. Charles
read the letter once more. Louis would send a hired carriage to wait for him at
seven o’clock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When the carriage arrived, Charles asked the driver not to
go along the boulevards, but to take the longer route past the church of St
Elisabeth of Hungary. The “Boulevard of Crime” had, at least for the moment,
lost its lustre in his eyes. Louis’ house in the Rue des Marais was scarcely
more than a stone’s throw away from it, yet it was in a different world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The door was open, and Louis came out onto the street to
greet him. A squat man with a thick
moustache, and a mass of curly hair falling over his collar, Louis smiled
broadly and held his arms apart to embrace him. With Louis’ hand on Charles’s
shoulder, they entered the hallway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madame Daguerre came down the stairs beaming. “<i>Bonsoir, Monsieur,</i>” she said. “My dear
Louis has been pacing up and down for an hour, waiting for you to arrive. We
have a bottle of Champagne on ice he ordered specially.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh,” said Charles, “and what is it we are celebrating?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But of course, I must show him!” Louis held out his hands
to take his wife’s and, gently pulling her towards himself, kissed her on the
lips. “We will join you in a few minutes. I will take our friend down to the
laboratory.” He gestured towards the
spiral staircase leading down to what Charles had always assumed to be the
wine-cellar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What need has an artist of a laboratory?” Charles asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You will see, <i>mon
vieux</i>. You will see.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As they descended the iron stairs, strange alchemical
smells rose up to greet them in clouds so thick they were almost visible. They
had a dizzying effect on Charles. He trusted his friend, but felt like Dante
following Virgil into the infernal regions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Candles were set around the basement room, by the light of
which Charles could make out shelves of glass flasks, some empty, others filled
with yellow and purple liquids. A large leather-bound book lay open on the
table beside a silver candelabrum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Louis thrust into Charles’s hand a flat sheet of copper,
the size of a small painting. It shone and shimmered in the candlelight. He
jabbed his finger at it excitedly. “There you are, my friend, <i>trans-fi-gu-ré</i>…like Christ himself!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles leaned over the table, holding the metal towards
the candle-flame. At first he saw nothing but, as he turned it, patterns
emerged, lines and veins, as on polished marble. He looked more closely, and
the patterns resolved themselves into the outlines of buildings. They were not
just any buildings. This was an engraving, or something like an engraving,
showing the view at the top end of the Boulevard du Temple, but the road was
entirely free of traffic and the pavements devoid of people. The Boulevard was
never like that, not even at the dead of night.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vX8Yvz8DBQiTLISwD0-sdR2VSBD5sB0BlOKveM0dv8YcLT3VRpExFcs7nQZ6V-8-Onsy58de0r-KCKIvCGXicN5qqUrYqrYi1cnjFZXrgRScC0TMEWMDRw0LGROBICIAPYxR2HbuYU8/s1600/Boulevard+du+Temple+Daguerrotype.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="1280" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vX8Yvz8DBQiTLISwD0-sdR2VSBD5sB0BlOKveM0dv8YcLT3VRpExFcs7nQZ6V-8-Onsy58de0r-KCKIvCGXicN5qqUrYqrYi1cnjFZXrgRScC0TMEWMDRw0LGROBICIAPYxR2HbuYU8/s400/Boulevard+du+Temple+Daguerrotype.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the Boulevard du Temple, by Louis Daguerre, 1838 or 1839 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoX_8zw9_bDSCohpRfl4S2wr5h8lVNgoh3fF7LWuvfG8iSrsVu6gTY0Ktf59PHXB_G9SpoUvFFkwps_p3ibuGtdf3RIh1PZW65BpDpvKuZvW9uFDORaK-HGF7AtrA27CKQNPBBNTZCdRA/s1600/Niepce+studio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="360" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoX_8zw9_bDSCohpRfl4S2wr5h8lVNgoh3fF7LWuvfG8iSrsVu6gTY0Ktf59PHXB_G9SpoUvFFkwps_p3ibuGtdf3RIh1PZW65BpDpvKuZvW9uFDORaK-HGF7AtrA27CKQNPBBNTZCdRA/s400/Niepce+studio.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A photographic laboratory of c 1840, reconstructed at the Musee Niepce, Saint-Loup-de-Varennes, Burgundy (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He looked at Louis. “How am I ‘transfigured?’ I’m not even
there!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Louis laughed. Then he reached
into a drawer and pulled out a magnifying glass. “Look more closely, <i>mon ami</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles peered through the glass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What do you see now?” asked Louis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He could now make out the water-pump on the corner of the
road and, beside it, his own image, with one foot placed on Gaston’s box.
Gaston was largely hidden by the pump, but Charles could clearly see his own frock-coat
and low-crowned hat.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvwoKTraIMIq-B_JFPlsduBheeN4n1ueb8A49DSgGNThDyQtuT_RJywSYCyn-GUlP4p936CDQI9niZKlTT1HwUt4ed0ipa7CVyBDQk2Tca1tHWf2nuURfT4Rzz1PARFpOG9d7u4Ec2W8/s1600/Boulevard+du+Temple+detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1083" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvwoKTraIMIq-B_JFPlsduBheeN4n1ueb8A49DSgGNThDyQtuT_RJywSYCyn-GUlP4p936CDQI9niZKlTT1HwUt4ed0ipa7CVyBDQk2Tca1tHWf2nuURfT4Rzz1PARFpOG9d7u4Ec2W8/s320/Boulevard+du+Temple+detail.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detail of the picture above.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But I don’t understand,” he protested. “The street was
full of people and the road was crowded with carts and carriages. There was an
old woman leaning over to draw water from the pump, and….”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“They are all there,” said Louis, with a flick of his hand,
“but they are ghosts, in broad daylight! You and the boy are the only ones
captured because you were the only ones who remained more or less still for
fifteen minutes, just as I asked you to. But let us take it upstairs and join Louise.
She hasn’t seen it yet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A tune was playing on the pianino as they climbed the
stairs, which Charles did not recognise. Perhaps Madame Daguerre had composed
it herself. She stopped playing as they came in, and stood up to greet them.
Louis opened the champagne and poured them each a glass. They sat down around
the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“To the new art of…heliography,” said Louis, raising his
glass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Were you impressed by this ‘miracle’ he showed you?” asked
Madame Daguerre.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Very
much so,” said Charles. “He must have been working on this for a long time?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madame Daguerre sighed loudly. “Night and day for more than
three years. He hardly talks about anything else, and barely comes to bed at
all!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles said nothing, but was surprised since, with him,
Louis rarely spoke of anything but painting. The <i>Comte</i> de Forbin considered him one of the greatest painters since
Claude, and his works hung all around the room in which they sat. It is strange
how people have different existences. Louis Daguerre the artist and Louis
Daguerre the alchemist. Charles Bitry the epigrapher and Charles Bitry the
philanderer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, here it is,” said Louis, handing the plate to his
wife, “and I promise not to talk about it at all tomorrow. We shall dine at Le
Rocher de Cancale.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As she examined the plate, Louis got up and fetched the
device with which it was created, showing it to Charles. It was a mahogany box
with a ground-glass lens at one end, and a slot for the copper plate at the
other. The “magic,” apparently, lay in the iodine of silver used to coat the
plate before it was placed in the device, and the mercurial vapours, sulphur
and soda to which it was exposed afterwards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I didn’t make it here,” said Louis, pointing to his studio
window. “I was across the road, standing on the roof.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Madame Daguerre put the copper plate back on the table, and
Charles picked it up to look at it again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You know,” said Louis, “you are the first person in the
world to be captured in this way.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Someday, this will hang in the Museum of Drawings in the Louvre,”
Charles replied, “but I would rather the world didn’t know it was me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Louis shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody in the world knows
that except the three of us, and we will not reveal it. People may speculate,
and some may even invent things, but we will take the secret with us to our
graves.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles examined the picture closely. A captive of the
light, he was alone among the invisible ghosts. He saw his coat and hat, yet he
might as well be naked. Alone as he must expect to be on judgement day, and as
small as he would surely seem in the gaze of his creator. Nobody else would be
there to answer or plead for him. Not Arlette, Amandine, Estrella; nobody. How
could they, when he had moved through their lives as swiftly as they themselves
had walked along the boulevard that morning? The light, at least, had revealed
that to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What did you make of the boy,” Louis asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles laughed. “He’s never had so much money in his
hands, that’s for sure. He doesn’t live in a world of <i>francs</i> and <i>écus</i>, only in
a world of <i>sous</i>. I doubt he’s
literate, but he seems intelligent. He was not dealt a great hand in the casino
of life, but he seems to be playing it well enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A smile spread across Louis’ face. “He polished my shoes last
week, and that’s what I thought, too.” He pointed at the mahogany box. “This is
going to change the world. I’m having breakfast on Wednesday with a man who
thinks we can sell the idea to the government for 300,000 francs. I think we
can make more on our own. But we would need to train people to use the apparatus.
We don’t need literate men who would write it all down and sell it to someone
else. We need intelligent men who have never seen the sort of money that will
come from all of this. I wish I could talk to that boy now. I’m in a position
to deal him an ace if he’s willing to play it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles picked up the copper plate and examined it once
again. Despite appearances, he was not altogether alone in the image. Gaston
was there, even if he was hidden by the pump. Charles rose to his feet. “I
think I know where I can find him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“At this hour?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes, this is just the hour to find him. He sells pies
outside the theatres.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Surely we can leave this until tomorrow?” Madame Daguerre
protested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But no, Madame,” Charles insisted, “for your husband has
promised every moment of tomorrow to you, and we must hold him to it! I can’t
teach the boy how to use the apparatus, but I can show him how a picture is
composed. I don’t suppose he’s ever really looked at pictures, certainly not
with the eyes of an artist.” He glanced at the bottle sitting in the ice-bucket
on the table. “I don’t suppose he’s ever tasted Champagne either. Let’s save
him a glass.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But we haven’t even offered you anything to eat,” said Madame
Daguerre.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Charles put on his hat. “If I do manage to find the boy, we
may come back with some pies. If we are taking him away from his work it would
be churlish not to buy them from him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Outside, in the Rue
des Marais, a single star shone brilliantly in the fading violet light of the </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">early evening sky. Charles Bitry de Brullioles strode with purpose towards the
Boulevard du </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Temple, not to take his pleasures but to offer what help he could. </span><br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-48375357694183194932019-09-03T02:26:00.000-07:002019-09-03T02:26:58.510-07:00The Streets of Old Westminster: "Strange Woods:" - St James's Park & Buckingham PalaceA visitor to London, having walked along the <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2019/07/the-streets-of-old-westminster-victoria.html">Victoria Embankment</a>, can walk along the northern side of Parliament Square, and cut through Great George Street into St James's Park. One of the many things that I love about living in London, in comparison with other great World cities, is the expanses of green space and mature trees to be found even at the heart of the metropolis. St James's is just one of the eight Royal Parks of London (though there are many other green spaces), and covers an area of almost 57 acres, with a stretch of fresh water running down its centre.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqPAhDY-TOoKoYmGkCmpf6hjaLmw8B_iA7wCm9Q76s-BXzCGCqOV186m4gTpD-7rjjFNf3_cYNgNgcbJ1QwXV7QoOVJiAFYVAXZJXktX2rVyf47PmNo4Oq3K7dIPwxezZsgNbc85EpNk/s1600/St_James%2527s_Park_Lake_%25E2%2580%2593_East_from_the_Blue_Bridge_-_2012-10-06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="1199" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqPAhDY-TOoKoYmGkCmpf6hjaLmw8B_iA7wCm9Q76s-BXzCGCqOV186m4gTpD-7rjjFNf3_cYNgNgcbJ1QwXV7QoOVJiAFYVAXZJXktX2rVyf47PmNo4Oq3K7dIPwxezZsgNbc85EpNk/s400/St_James%2527s_Park_Lake_%25E2%2580%2593_East_from_the_Blue_Bridge_-_2012-10-06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St James's Park, looking east towards Whitehall. Photo: Colin, licensed under CCA.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Originally an area of marshland, on either side of the River Tyburn (a left-bank tributary of the Thames, now almost completely invisible), the land was purchased by Henry VIII, and drained during the reign of James I. In James's time, it housed a menagerie, through which camel, crocodiles, and an elephant roamed. "Birdcage Walk," which runs along the southern edge of the park, is named for the aviaries that once lined its route. It was through St Jame's Park that his son, Charles I, too his last walk, from St James's Palace to his execution at Whitehall, guarded by Oliver Cromwell's soldiers.<br />
<br />
When Charles II came to the throne in 1660, he had the park redesigned by the French landscape architect, Andre Mollet (a contemporary of the more famous, and more expensive, Andre Le Notre), with a canal at its centre. Charles was known to promenade his mistresses here, and it soon became the custom that favoured gentlemen of the court were given keys to the park, so that they might use it for similar assignations. It was the Russian Ambassador to the court of Charles II who first presented pelicans to live in the park, and there are still pelicans there today, although they may not be descended from the original birds.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5veiBDfCKqoTUKznWqUM-3Nb0oiCJicTJz_RTCL4vaCOmtRD36YbXy3zpz2_oX0QfnyxirxmtolrH7uXIh7f2taLrFKBP3LzdP9plIknPM1UxhWdZdWXz7YYHD4Sdm9IJw8OnKn1PUzU/s1600/St_James%2527s_Park_%2528original_layout%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="474" data-original-width="640" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5veiBDfCKqoTUKznWqUM-3Nb0oiCJicTJz_RTCL4vaCOmtRD36YbXy3zpz2_oX0QfnyxirxmtolrH7uXIh7f2taLrFKBP3LzdP9plIknPM1UxhWdZdWXz7YYHD4Sdm9IJw8OnKn1PUzU/s400/St_James%2527s_Park_%2528original_layout%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mollet's original drawing of the layout of St James's Park (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-c9mt92E5mwUwtgHEuLIywMJhgcFkaPMh20_VSziuLH8XZkxCTqIXUnqqv0r8GR-mJlFb6gcDGT08OmtAEU2GxMSFIvWTbXxluv3YomoyECWIZFEHUte-t3T1E98QfRZMVjKtzU4Rrs/s1600/Saint+James%2527s+Park+1680.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="1378" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-c9mt92E5mwUwtgHEuLIywMJhgcFkaPMh20_VSziuLH8XZkxCTqIXUnqqv0r8GR-mJlFb6gcDGT08OmtAEU2GxMSFIvWTbXxluv3YomoyECWIZFEHUte-t3T1E98QfRZMVjKtzU4Rrs/s400/Saint+James%2527s+Park+1680.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St James's Park in c 1680, reproduced by F.T. Smith in 1804 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
The courtier, libertine, and poet, John Wilmot, the Second Earl of Rochester, summed up the park's Seventeenth Century reputation in his poem, <a href="http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/john_wilmot/poems/10966">"A Ramble in St James's Park:"</a><br />
<br />
"<i>Much wine had passed, with grave discourse</i><br />
<i>Of who f****s who, and who does worse</i><br />
<i>(Such as you usually do hear</i><br />
<i>from those that diet at The Bear),</i><br />
<i>When I, who still take care to see</i><br />
<i>Drunkenness relieved by lechery,</i><br />
<i>Went out into St James's Park</i><br />
<i>To cool my head and fire my heart.</i><br />
<i>But though St James has th'honour on't,</i><br />
<i>Tis consecrate to p***k and c**t.</i><br />
<i>There, by a most incestuous birth,</i><br />
<i>Strange woods spring from the teeming earth ...</i><br />
<i>...Each imitative branch does twine</i><br />
<i>In some loved fold of Aretine,</i><br />
<i>And nightly, now, beneath their shade</i><br />
<i>Are buggeries, rapes, and incests made ...</i>"<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhscIsf04VA_N2MJ1zjrifqiTYjczvDJRJiX2cH47V23jYOVvshg9cTc0cT6kM2at7MwLiUA6ofPheQyMIZXcW2kl1B_7rh6mSKO7qKbyr23TKd1nm2cPWfnVu3OmexXf9wW6L2BTNsLPw/s1600/John_Wilmot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="944" data-original-width="761" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhscIsf04VA_N2MJ1zjrifqiTYjczvDJRJiX2cH47V23jYOVvshg9cTc0cT6kM2at7MwLiUA6ofPheQyMIZXcW2kl1B_7rh6mSKO7qKbyr23TKd1nm2cPWfnVu3OmexXf9wW6L2BTNsLPw/s400/John_Wilmot.jpg" width="321" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, by Peter Lely, c 1677. Photo: Victoria & Albert Museum 491-1882 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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In the Eighteenth Century, the eastern end of the canal was filled in to make way for Horse Guards' Parade; and the entire park was redesigned by the architect, John Nash, in the Nineteenth - the straight canal became a more sinuous "lake," and an ornamental bridge was added. The bridge was in the Oriental style popular at the time, and had a pagoda at its centre, which burned down when a fireworks display, to celebrate<i> </i>the defeat of Napoleon, went catastrophically wrong.<i> </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWRyINTmJA_7m-4DaW_bdoJedgyFU3J4szQbf4kc7ca08swiZeZgkMLEDVrHdvb1T0LaFXYciiT8wNy8mkBNzMHDnCg0Q2SDVizkGJetqHV58EllXTkjdTdZF54eXgp-Db0AksYlE3wk/s1600/St_James%2527s_Park_mall1745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="1199" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWRyINTmJA_7m-4DaW_bdoJedgyFU3J4szQbf4kc7ca08swiZeZgkMLEDVrHdvb1T0LaFXYciiT8wNy8mkBNzMHDnCg0Q2SDVizkGJetqHV58EllXTkjdTdZF54eXgp-Db0AksYlE3wk/s400/St_James%2527s_Park_mall1745.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St James's Park, by Joseph Nickolls, 1771-72. Photo: Royal Collections Trust (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_R8y2ksQKc-ZNlelXZYcHaZgAlYhPf-phPoGThsjbWxA3LVMRTZE1g30AGUnRbtP49AgsXwmDPnM2a6i1NMTSs2Xt7vyXVLvRngOPIhcWabMxV6V3hbIChjpp7hZjThMpxXa9HtSlbOU/s1600/Saint+James%2527s+Park+pagoda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="608" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_R8y2ksQKc-ZNlelXZYcHaZgAlYhPf-phPoGThsjbWxA3LVMRTZE1g30AGUnRbtP49AgsXwmDPnM2a6i1NMTSs2Xt7vyXVLvRngOPIhcWabMxV6V3hbIChjpp7hZjThMpxXa9HtSlbOU/s640/Saint+James%2527s+Park+pagoda.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pagoda and Bridge in Saint James's Park (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZbE_FD2oVhnIT_DVW7M5fA5a0TusnUXvILO5_pPt_yQpEQ69psmLyIr8LoCdPv8pj9CkO24zqmKx-0scIAlAhUv50d6LqWhLRQy3pKv3SMVdITvfvtkb2Q0-gJtvZUnA652sGM8Mmmk/s1600/Saint+James%2527s+Park+1833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1280" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZbE_FD2oVhnIT_DVW7M5fA5a0TusnUXvILO5_pPt_yQpEQ69psmLyIr8LoCdPv8pj9CkO24zqmKx-0scIAlAhUv50d6LqWhLRQy3pKv3SMVdITvfvtkb2Q0-gJtvZUnA652sGM8Mmmk/s640/Saint+James%2527s+Park+1833.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St James's Park in 1833, by W. Schmollinger (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The Ornithological Society of London endowed the park with a much wider assortment of exotic wildfowl, as can be seen today, and also built the Birdkeeper's Cottage, which still stands.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjhfTzrz7N1AptPSW5WBTQCWJJBM9ePaYO-aZeJ8Zi84NozCMm7myFvb8ljkwn5lf-3HNEf1h-0dtsP57m_e4KEC5RgrohUql9JpAjFhWtE4Q9T_Foj_ITnCXTj7pyXSTrUUzH9gEGzs/s1600/Saint+James+Birdkeeper%2527s+Cottage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="1600" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjhfTzrz7N1AptPSW5WBTQCWJJBM9ePaYO-aZeJ8Zi84NozCMm7myFvb8ljkwn5lf-3HNEf1h-0dtsP57m_e4KEC5RgrohUql9JpAjFhWtE4Q9T_Foj_ITnCXTj7pyXSTrUUzH9gEGzs/s400/Saint+James+Birdkeeper%2527s+Cottage.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Birdkeeper's Cottage. Photo: Peter K. Burton (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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At the western end of the park, a series of opulent Seventeenth Century residences were replaced, in 1703, by a single estate, known as Buckingham House. This was bought by George III, in 1761, as a retreat for his Queen, Charlotte. When George IV ascended the throne, he employed John Nash to convert it into a palace worthy of a King. Nash's works included the Marble Arch, which was moved to its present location (where the Tyburn gallows had once stood) in 1847, to make way for a new East Wing to the Palace, which is the main facade presented to the public today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2TJlOYdKch032TZzon5nltbU3yjLq56sgtXhASp2iR15Z7qJ28vwlvwjk-qSEIiPYIaMLxVV2T-ZwoKAUj5go44ddHn3mXc1u-YQnN_I9-olA1n2eJYpGfnQmhjWL0G08R_0zvCyDPM4/s1600/Buckingham_House_1710.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="964" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2TJlOYdKch032TZzon5nltbU3yjLq56sgtXhASp2iR15Z7qJ28vwlvwjk-qSEIiPYIaMLxVV2T-ZwoKAUj5go44ddHn3mXc1u-YQnN_I9-olA1n2eJYpGfnQmhjWL0G08R_0zvCyDPM4/s400/Buckingham_House_1710.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buckingham House in 1710 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxLG57_0CUqqcGdiltMwOTNdWz5VpaUrKs450JBRcZKFK_Y29BTKzbBXGvT4ODGopfcMqDJbnV-xDWVj6rixIdwkzw8Q6bqGuarbFn8cKz9nU0llijKSzK8IHxXLU3uYlXIYGbjJqp_k/s1600/Buckingham+Palace+1837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="640" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxLG57_0CUqqcGdiltMwOTNdWz5VpaUrKs450JBRcZKFK_Y29BTKzbBXGvT4ODGopfcMqDJbnV-xDWVj6rixIdwkzw8Q6bqGuarbFn8cKz9nU0llijKSzK8IHxXLU3uYlXIYGbjJqp_k/s400/Buckingham+Palace+1837.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buckingham Palace in 1837, by John Woods (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkxSphdo8agQTvOSAvSc_mYejGs96wmFRnKJEGX12f5miJ8Kx-PJHr5eYOMBg1epl__LVHsy8LYaCzLlcVcmrORSfasfsrDaAftXVIoS_YlpzoX91A9_h6UOTcoIIFAFWVYRdRp1DakHM/s1600/Buckingham+Palace+from+Saint+James%2527s+Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1200" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkxSphdo8agQTvOSAvSc_mYejGs96wmFRnKJEGX12f5miJ8Kx-PJHr5eYOMBg1epl__LVHsy8LYaCzLlcVcmrORSfasfsrDaAftXVIoS_YlpzoX91A9_h6UOTcoIIFAFWVYRdRp1DakHM/s400/Buckingham+Palace+from+Saint+James%2527s+Park.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buckingham Palace from St James's Park. Photo: Pointillist (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books may be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>. Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-29932010823677814682019-07-28T03:07:00.000-07:002019-08-05T23:22:09.455-07:00The Streets of Old Westminster: The Victoria Embankment - Sanitation and Underground RailwaysA visitor to London, exploring the City of Westminster, and having walked along <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2019/06/the-streets-of-old-westminster.html">The Strand</a>, can walk through Victoria Embankment Gardens from York Water Gate, and cross the A3211 onto the riverside. We are here immersed in a cityscape in the strictest sense: nothing about the Thames here is "natural," apart from the water itself; in fact, it is very largely the work of one man, Joseph Bazalgette (1819-91), whose monument is to be found here.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2U-jxNbV392FnhBtrH0fJhXIFIFnY1TNYLZ4hM8Wyyjmu4HsMw7D6rV9YUpKs2Il9i5H9aXxkFm2aiyWm6l_tBIFaO18w7JlD1q10DhYsNEwxXEPLZ5PPY1XqZ2HKmMc5zjmkTSPY78M/s1600/Victoria+Embankment+1930+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="1024" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2U-jxNbV392FnhBtrH0fJhXIFIFnY1TNYLZ4hM8Wyyjmu4HsMw7D6rV9YUpKs2Il9i5H9aXxkFm2aiyWm6l_tBIFaO18w7JlD1q10DhYsNEwxXEPLZ5PPY1XqZ2HKmMc5zjmkTSPY78M/s400/Victoria+Embankment+1930+b.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Victoria Embankment in c 1896, Hallwyl Museum (Sweden), image is in the Public Domain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqR4xCR_A7dNEBCk2b7tyP59UG_S5L7QPNwiCgqVl9LQDH0mYxgZkjPtq7dniorMOdyMyekoV6TQduuthaZ80fqgxsa8xwQTXaEqkWVZdNAEb6rmIk7QzDWZ3kszIBWJ6P0aCnzej91M/s1600/Victoria+Embankment+1930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="1280" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqR4xCR_A7dNEBCk2b7tyP59UG_S5L7QPNwiCgqVl9LQDH0mYxgZkjPtq7dniorMOdyMyekoV6TQduuthaZ80fqgxsa8xwQTXaEqkWVZdNAEb6rmIk7QzDWZ3kszIBWJ6P0aCnzej91M/s400/Victoria+Embankment+1930.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Victoria Embankment in c 1930 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilueAIZFPr6r_jzicga94Vz73jkWVYVe1FrkQRAnCmwwbXECEWDqUch82UgPDpepLD7Bz5K-dMaPLGgIVZJPHHDasZFKkSj6habFicCEN28RVVFncRjKPUz4N4cpgGfhEEAGOaNFOBnFA/s1600/JosephBazalgettePortrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="606" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilueAIZFPr6r_jzicga94Vz73jkWVYVe1FrkQRAnCmwwbXECEWDqUch82UgPDpepLD7Bz5K-dMaPLGgIVZJPHHDasZFKkSj6habFicCEN28RVVFncRjKPUz4N4cpgGfhEEAGOaNFOBnFA/s320/JosephBazalgettePortrait.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joseph Bazalgette, by Locke & Whitfield Photographic Studios, National Portrait Gallery (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Bazalgette was an engineer, who had cut his teeth on railway construction projects connecting London to the provinces. In 1858, however, he was given a very different problem to solve. The Thames and its tributaries had, since Roman times, served as an open sewer. As the city grew rapidly throughout the Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth Centuries, increasing volumes of waste were channeled into it. An invisible threshold was crossed in 1851, the year of the <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/a-history-of-world-in-50-novels-31.html">Great Exhibition</a>: for the first time in British history, more people now lived in its towns and cities, than in the countryside. Utilitarian reformers had, in some instances, accidentally made the situation worse. Many Londoners had used a flushing toilet for the first time on their visit to the exhibition (literally "spending a penny" for the privilege): the reformers now encouraged them to install them at home, and to dispense with cess-pits (which Londoners had used for centuries), in favour of new public sewers, emptying directly into the Thames. Flushing toilets without mains sewers was a disastrous combination, since it more than doubled the volume of toxic waste to be removed. The result was the "Great Stink" of 1858, when conditions became unbearable, even for MPs and peers in the Palace of Westminster, but this, itself came in the wake of major cholera epidemics in 1832, 1848, 1849, and 1854, which, between them, had carried off hundreds of thousands of Londoners.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBGERhi8qERYYPNowe1pDziZwNGla6Lz9Eh9pqSYVxHP77rUWHIVyVcO7tqHpd9rLQ0FTN75NtOWsX9ceTXMfHuqmIlbzOtfV69bgWd502Ko_g-lJNlub1fEsum_yVEmWQc9dsz_XNCs/s1600/Monster+soup.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="702" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBGERhi8qERYYPNowe1pDziZwNGla6Lz9Eh9pqSYVxHP77rUWHIVyVcO7tqHpd9rLQ0FTN75NtOWsX9ceTXMfHuqmIlbzOtfV69bgWd502Ko_g-lJNlub1fEsum_yVEmWQc9dsz_XNCs/s400/Monster+soup.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Monster Soup," 1828, Wellcome Collection (Image is in the Public Domain). In fact, the presence of such creatures as are shown here would be indications of a healthy estuarine ecosystem: no microscope of the time was powerful enough to show the bacteria, let alone the viruses, that actually threaten human health.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV99sDUi2G4Me6wZQMJU3_MSBJaMJWn56rq6F0X1ari-hXG3b9ZpDHmfyw4L48YtqM60esV1NdyQF0gDpTB151Fz-oDXtpuQUbBkHwZjmTgYsTM624L3eGq7v9QK0_A4bkXy3DxOZIKFg/s1600/Great+Stink+Faraday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="553" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV99sDUi2G4Me6wZQMJU3_MSBJaMJWn56rq6F0X1ari-hXG3b9ZpDHmfyw4L48YtqM60esV1NdyQF0gDpTB151Fz-oDXtpuQUbBkHwZjmTgYsTM624L3eGq7v9QK0_A4bkXy3DxOZIKFg/s400/Great+Stink+Faraday.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cartoon of 1858, showing Michael Faraday presenting his card to Father Thames (Image is in the Public Domain). In fact, Faraday, the go-to man of science for so many practical challenges, played little part in finding the solutions to this problem.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PPPx7gogg4yJGTHl1QGQkkJZ8li-_e41dg43w9IY8LY1S2VBKPbskTxHjWR_DzZbnzf2DNlCbWw1E4wLyQ7lZlkIOTg59aCdqBANXa8LdGyzcvRhb9p82N7JzL5zS4iuTheGs3R53Xc/s1600/Great+tink+Offspring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="323" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PPPx7gogg4yJGTHl1QGQkkJZ8li-_e41dg43w9IY8LY1S2VBKPbskTxHjWR_DzZbnzf2DNlCbWw1E4wLyQ7lZlkIOTg59aCdqBANXa8LdGyzcvRhb9p82N7JzL5zS4iuTheGs3R53Xc/s400/Great+tink+Offspring.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cartoon of 1858 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicryJ2EaQlqggLYJ2_GzLI51NLsXWpi5MYTt1g2LYQ8QRHITWcpXjxP0h2_0IrlpK6mf2_PVYYxbW4Ibh_BlL7it7dSDGkNVND08NmNokfRQA4LP_PRFEq6MCLGcIw3Xaw2emPJ9qn9Po/s1600/The_silent_highwayman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="975" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicryJ2EaQlqggLYJ2_GzLI51NLsXWpi5MYTt1g2LYQ8QRHITWcpXjxP0h2_0IrlpK6mf2_PVYYxbW4Ibh_BlL7it7dSDGkNVND08NmNokfRQA4LP_PRFEq6MCLGcIw3Xaw2emPJ9qn9Po/s320/The_silent_highwayman.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Punch cartoon of 1858 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtGMQQhgnTTGDqJD9iCTHi4quN8k5vx7uaxHzhyNHvI-UdQhqR2GIq1l5K56UtFveTlKcMbNN1zRxvfA1OtYm-vi0F0yNPXus949wi3Y_m1XeJ_baF5PBeHrcF_VH3rweDKdiVz0msCE/s1600/Cholera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="638" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtGMQQhgnTTGDqJD9iCTHi4quN8k5vx7uaxHzhyNHvI-UdQhqR2GIq1l5K56UtFveTlKcMbNN1zRxvfA1OtYm-vi0F0yNPXus949wi3Y_m1XeJ_baF5PBeHrcF_VH3rweDKdiVz0msCE/s320/Cholera.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young Venetian woman, aged 23, before and after contracting cholera, 1831, Wellcome Collection (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
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Bazalgette, working for the Metropolitan Board of Works, proposed an ambitious solution. He did not know that cholera was caused by contaminated water (few, in his time, even suspected this to be the case), but he did know that people should not be drinking water contaminated by human excrement. A network of sewers were required, with two main channels, one following the northern, and the other following the southern bank of the Thames. The only sensible place to put these, without demolishing large numbers of expensive buildings, was in the space between the high and low tide-marks. The river was thus narrowed and deepened, with the additional advantage that floods became far less frequent.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbU8T-IGG3X3fpomAGoIATyDbffkLEwH-k1rWAUlRG-p0xrvstuxi3DKlVFtvEkp6zkO1OfqCXesMmgypo8XrOd00m8D2qQh1boH-G5qdHoNa1cDfeMRbYHPmVzJmxF1dcI_aH4AigkU/s1600/Bazalgette+Sewer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="461" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbU8T-IGG3X3fpomAGoIATyDbffkLEwH-k1rWAUlRG-p0xrvstuxi3DKlVFtvEkp6zkO1OfqCXesMmgypo8XrOd00m8D2qQh1boH-G5qdHoNa1cDfeMRbYHPmVzJmxF1dcI_aH4AigkU/s400/Bazalgette+Sewer.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bazlgette's sewer system, taking waste far to the east of London. Image: Philg88 (licensed under CCA). </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIq8Zpqo0uv9X-jc2NVfiFJZeNYnJOQrn9YIncURoZ8kZiOHnMTRQ0PEnHesh-saBX3p4oaEFisPTRc-_jNgQO-bOHw4loFHrnJmsfXE39VncWmSYMiLeXbqcLJTTZyKBq3elTT8wdsj4/s1600/Bazalgette+Sewer+construction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIq8Zpqo0uv9X-jc2NVfiFJZeNYnJOQrn9YIncURoZ8kZiOHnMTRQ0PEnHesh-saBX3p4oaEFisPTRc-_jNgQO-bOHw4loFHrnJmsfXE39VncWmSYMiLeXbqcLJTTZyKBq3elTT8wdsj4/s1600/Bazalgette+Sewer+construction.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The construction of sewers at Old Ford, Bow, in 1859 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtBQ9IoF1H_g85mrZDcJcVxkI6xde37UF6c7xiW7A4OoNSKm-x-xcWdJCwnKDg29KyHbV6IL-PCB7XDdrhUFcwtmMJLB6R4xCJ6rP4Gm9qQNavbNfkIubOlKeTrxFnUN69TGmWfZE60Q/s1600/Side_sewer_in_River_Fleet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1024" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtBQ9IoF1H_g85mrZDcJcVxkI6xde37UF6c7xiW7A4OoNSKm-x-xcWdJCwnKDg29KyHbV6IL-PCB7XDdrhUFcwtmMJLB6R4xCJ6rP4Gm9qQNavbNfkIubOlKeTrxFnUN69TGmWfZE60Q/s320/Side_sewer_in_River_Fleet.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Side-sewer carrying the River Fleet (between Westminster and the City of London). Photo: Matt Brown (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsBpwpvNRleRnm8cq9SakUX2HiXzi50e2RlSosbNXHRSqkFSTQdJWJCahquP3gZ_tB0eciKGhKdvJRx1IxOGmG2tWoTcMjs_kAEd6Eo1xLbo861vi-12D47ex_rLYMvn_A8aJK5U2bxE/s1600/Victoria+Embankment+construction+1865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="459" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsBpwpvNRleRnm8cq9SakUX2HiXzi50e2RlSosbNXHRSqkFSTQdJWJCahquP3gZ_tB0eciKGhKdvJRx1IxOGmG2tWoTcMjs_kAEd6Eo1xLbo861vi-12D47ex_rLYMvn_A8aJK5U2bxE/s400/Victoria+Embankment+construction+1865.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The construction of the Victoria Embankment, c 1865 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The scale of Bazalgette's ambition was not limited to sanitation. "<i>We're only going to do this once,</i>" he insisted, "<i>and there's always the unexpected.</i>" He therefore insisted that the pipes be double the diameter that most other engineers thought prudent. The "unexpected" included the astonishing growth of London's population since the mid-Nineteenth Century, and his sewers do still serve us today, although London's authorities, and Bazalgette's engineering successors, are now, one hundred and sixty one years on, building a replacement network. The "unexpected" was one thing, but what Bazalgette did anticipate, and make specific provision for, was no less remarkable. Since he was, necessarily, involved in land reclamation, he made space for an underground railway (today's District and Circle Line), and for services as yet unplanned (water and gas supply pipes, telephone and electricity cables - you may well be reading this courtesy of a fibre-optic cable installed in Bazalgette's "additional" tunnel for unexpected things).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuuENO5zG7B3lipgzEo43yF9EmHbGPOZZq5Rle4vNM4bCenR9ilXgEYQrCzWj7DBaTvqJZTnMDC2egEm4Ui33kNLJ1dfwfBXrSqA-ENewymOuJuFNJqWP_Iyuaw9gJ15vlRgwJd5X1PU/s1600/Victoria+Embankment+section.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="584" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuuENO5zG7B3lipgzEo43yF9EmHbGPOZZq5Rle4vNM4bCenR9ilXgEYQrCzWj7DBaTvqJZTnMDC2egEm4Ui33kNLJ1dfwfBXrSqA-ENewymOuJuFNJqWP_Iyuaw9gJ15vlRgwJd5X1PU/s320/Victoria+Embankment+section.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cross-section of the Victoria Embankment at Charing Cross, showing the railway tunnel (lower left), sewer (lower right), and service tunnel (upper right). Image is in the Public Domain. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQ6syaG1rDizZ9biCtXohRmFXtpJIp_MieYruJ1z9RQ5nnSB9W3zjSR2dX14J6Bfn7hkpGpvMk4kfYWoKKoJpAxl8Ve5jtE3eg8AXbICJ3VqSL5hM_D5lQ8X944qP4ZXlakGUZNbJzlY/s1600/Tube+Map+1908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1128" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQ6syaG1rDizZ9biCtXohRmFXtpJIp_MieYruJ1z9RQ5nnSB9W3zjSR2dX14J6Bfn7hkpGpvMk4kfYWoKKoJpAxl8Ve5jtE3eg8AXbICJ3VqSL5hM_D5lQ8X944qP4ZXlakGUZNbJzlY/s400/Tube+Map+1908.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tube Map of 1908, with the District Line shown in green, by Dodo van den Bergen (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44089WqFnA6LHbs-Ryh1o-emTIi2ofLcJccjyQ9w8m34IQAXtYR8oXUePzUxx2RKWOJbxjEyn0qihh1Nzzmn8MMb8D1FPfSB8-w1chCj0k8qDqonftxiO7LtymxwgH2xs-08LcqnAVk8/s1600/District_Railway_at_Charing_Cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="496" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44089WqFnA6LHbs-Ryh1o-emTIi2ofLcJccjyQ9w8m34IQAXtYR8oXUePzUxx2RKWOJbxjEyn0qihh1Nzzmn8MMb8D1FPfSB8-w1chCj0k8qDqonftxiO7LtymxwgH2xs-08LcqnAVk8/s400/District_Railway_at_Charing_Cross.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The District Railway at Charing Cross, 1914, by Charles Sharland (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Bazalgette's scheme, starting in 1858, required 10,000 labourers to build eight miles of intercepting sewers, and 1100 mils of street sewers. By the time that <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2018/04/impressionists-in-london.html">Claude Monet</a> arrived in London in 1871, as a refugee from the Franco-Prussian War, the work was largely complete, and London had, not only a fully functioning sewer system, but an underground railway; life free from cholera; and an elegant water-front to match the finest in Europe.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmUyziI_0x7gS1QqDMNdU7A3J8rAgXDIzukohA-61IehuNt1YKgwVAxDDKO5YM_iCn4n1GOYqEZyFBx3zHIl2mS8rEyStXA0oxUQYNLF07nVgv_mxJYzKGvPWWhQCFFB3tn9U6li8s6A/s1600/Monet+Thames.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="653" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmUyziI_0x7gS1QqDMNdU7A3J8rAgXDIzukohA-61IehuNt1YKgwVAxDDKO5YM_iCn4n1GOYqEZyFBx3zHIl2mS8rEyStXA0oxUQYNLF07nVgv_mxJYzKGvPWWhQCFFB3tn9U6li8s6A/s400/Monet+Thames.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Thames below Westminster, by Claude Monet, c 1871. Image: National Gallery (Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNTx0MZduCj_QuzwvnzUxFehbdKiKJn1JnpI31DVf_E2jz4Ish1MKhf44bAKQUTZTCm-_xJ9-Zdpm5rwxKLivnaLsUKXW6DNFOvS6YMCXJyWTKTXozY4DwFqB8LF2JiScPQrwdjNidj4/s1600/Joseph+Bazalgette+Memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNTx0MZduCj_QuzwvnzUxFehbdKiKJn1JnpI31DVf_E2jz4Ish1MKhf44bAKQUTZTCm-_xJ9-Zdpm5rwxKLivnaLsUKXW6DNFOvS6YMCXJyWTKTXozY4DwFqB8LF2JiScPQrwdjNidj4/s400/Joseph+Bazalgette+Memorial.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bazalgette's memorial, on the Victoria Embankment. Photo: Lonpicman (licensed under GNU).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38ywq1HKZn0OYEzZMmFO8CWkqXvK_wpPCt0OEA-ssncAkupKnpXfsviBvrB7UL4N-B3yeMHewCuxxQ1QRIcuwS2ThADewBrcA7LNoT4n205V1xT8JStTB_2JPLwpX-f6uF_NTICpKBZ8/s1600/Cleopatra%2527s+Needle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38ywq1HKZn0OYEzZMmFO8CWkqXvK_wpPCt0OEA-ssncAkupKnpXfsviBvrB7UL4N-B3yeMHewCuxxQ1QRIcuwS2ThADewBrcA7LNoT4n205V1xT8JStTB_2JPLwpX-f6uF_NTICpKBZ8/s320/Cleopatra%2527s+Needle.jpg" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Cleopatra's Needle," on the Victoria Embankment. Erected by PharaohThutmose III, at Heliopolis, in c 1450 BC, it was given to Britain by Egypt in 1819, to celebrate the defeat of Napoleon, and was erected here in 1878. Photo: Ethan Doyle White (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-43233330152410875082019-06-11T07:27:00.000-07:002019-06-11T07:27:41.340-07:00The Streets of Old Westminster: Lundenwic and The StrandA visitor to London, exploring the City of Westminster, and having walked along <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-streets-of-old-westminster.html">Whitehall</a>, can turn to the east and walk along The Strand, passing Charing Cross Railway Station on the right. This was the main street of early Saxon Lundenwic, the trading port that replaced the Roman city of Londinium, which had been abandoned following the collapse of Roman administration in Britain in the early Fifth Century AD. Whereas Roman ships, sailing to and from the Mediterranean, tied up at stone wharves in the old city, the very different vessels that plied the "Whale Roads" of the early Middle Ages, connecting Lundenwic to the markets of the North Sea and the Baltic, were beached on strands. "The Strand" was, literally, the strand, in the sense of a beach, before the Thames was embanked in the Nineteenth Century. Lundenwic, a settlement of wooden buildings, extended from Saint Martin-in- the-Fields in the west to Saint Clement Danes in the east: traces of it have been found in archaeological excavations over the past hundred years, and can be seen in the Museum of London.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4u7s_YxTleR_DOik-SZ2NomzMPRK-IJMPBMiYSeBnGTQaKmoT4vv305L2BvJF_pen7gW5yQHOLJkEAllwG0VsCdVEBCI-o3vYdr5RgUowgipSiiCjhoX-EYp6E1pzlxFUohyphenhyphenJ2E6V7SM/s1600/Lundenwic+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="602" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4u7s_YxTleR_DOik-SZ2NomzMPRK-IJMPBMiYSeBnGTQaKmoT4vv305L2BvJF_pen7gW5yQHOLJkEAllwG0VsCdVEBCI-o3vYdr5RgUowgipSiiCjhoX-EYp6E1pzlxFUohyphenhyphenJ2E6V7SM/s400/Lundenwic+map.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Map of Lundenwic, Museum of London (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Nothing of Lundenwic (other than the course of The Strand itself) is visible on the ground today. There is, similarly, little to see of most of the opulent great houses that, throughout the Middle Ages and into the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, lined the road that connected the Royal courts of <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-streets-of-old-westminster-from.html">Westminster</a> and <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-streets-of-old-westminster.html">Whitehall</a> to <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/the-wards-of-old-london-fleet-street.html">Fleet Street</a> and <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2017/02/from-city-to-metropolis-historic.html">The City</a>: including the London residences of the Dukes of Lancaster; the Earls of Essex and Arundel; and the Bishops of Durham, Exeter, Carlisle, Chester, Worcester and Bath. The grandest of these palaces was the Savoy, which was owned by John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, until it was destroyed in the "Peasants' Revolt" of 1381: the name, alone, survives as The Savoy Hotel, which remains one of London's most exclusive addresses.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCda8pvrEcHBbL70Xt_7zQzvZkdIINJ1ZuPMRQHK5pRttphsRaCrm0GgEULxUqBbZc1AB0FnmWbS3GzcrcM1sB_1Wqo0wJx5WqpIVcu-Hc6ydfjbQSwdmd4kPHQwVxYWd0Iz0TXcWjsg/s1600/Strand+1822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="541" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCda8pvrEcHBbL70Xt_7zQzvZkdIINJ1ZuPMRQHK5pRttphsRaCrm0GgEULxUqBbZc1AB0FnmWbS3GzcrcM1sB_1Wqo0wJx5WqpIVcu-Hc6ydfjbQSwdmd4kPHQwVxYWd0Iz0TXcWjsg/s400/Strand+1822.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Strand in 1822, showing Saint Mary-le-Strand and Saint Clement-Danes behind, Museum of London (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdg4SKyzLd1NNKwASYZIorXy1dpxlRxCjKyx-53S2AuskeLQLMp4M-pJ8ZiP9McjLQrbG1L_Tjt2-hKpdnrim5M7QDzOwJhFwpqs9G5jShShbgbFr6IY1_4UPVNQQqUMnJv65cU0NJcbg/s1600/The+Strand+1593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="712" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdg4SKyzLd1NNKwASYZIorXy1dpxlRxCjKyx-53S2AuskeLQLMp4M-pJ8ZiP9McjLQrbG1L_Tjt2-hKpdnrim5M7QDzOwJhFwpqs9G5jShShbgbFr6IY1_4UPVNQQqUMnJv65cU0NJcbg/s400/The+Strand+1593.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Strand in 1593 (the Norden Map). British Library (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIALinG5ixHhpn4udKinBtlsJdyHyawlXEMdGlrSloSlqAcIs4pBVuDgytvt_RNtAdQ1sZfstIPAXQej5B5gCkc5w-xKahZ9-xY7qVlXhyphenhyphen1oBrKy3AZ4pHsMpkPJ_CfruzqCy20OvZFk/s1600/Wenceslas_Hollar_-_Arundel_House%252C_from_the_N..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="1600" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIALinG5ixHhpn4udKinBtlsJdyHyawlXEMdGlrSloSlqAcIs4pBVuDgytvt_RNtAdQ1sZfstIPAXQej5B5gCkc5w-xKahZ9-xY7qVlXhyphenhyphen1oBrKy3AZ4pHsMpkPJ_CfruzqCy20OvZFk/s400/Wenceslas_Hollar_-_Arundel_House%252C_from_the_N..jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arundel House from the north, by Wenceslas Hollar, 1647 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQpQDghS0gxucOtHzRnvJOA0Xr-zVQlSWWETgv0dVWtN56RePCnx-g3E5UIjWfNwHFzV26JR0jAgzXkr92EqWoLjDSkXxJEOEqNhgUF0T2NOQa9E6NwnPgqqz87M5f7PxeuamhUzqRuZI/s1600/Durham_House_Smith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="251" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQpQDghS0gxucOtHzRnvJOA0Xr-zVQlSWWETgv0dVWtN56RePCnx-g3E5UIjWfNwHFzV26JR0jAgzXkr92EqWoLjDSkXxJEOEqNhgUF0T2NOQa9E6NwnPgqqz87M5f7PxeuamhUzqRuZI/s400/Durham_House_Smith.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Durham House in 1806, by John Thomas Smith (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lR0zGprRcspKjGwKcfKSWuv9wBrcxwmXdCtVIlqRvUCx8lZ-apuMK0e09utyCeISrpSa654bH9F6o1P7d3026jRScsA_Er_DodypWwGW2HHtx4O80x-FOVEde6D_36f6LgZC-mdri5c/s1600/Plan_of_the_savoy_1736.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="455" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lR0zGprRcspKjGwKcfKSWuv9wBrcxwmXdCtVIlqRvUCx8lZ-apuMK0e09utyCeISrpSa654bH9F6o1P7d3026jRScsA_Er_DodypWwGW2HHtx4O80x-FOVEde6D_36f6LgZC-mdri5c/s400/Plan_of_the_savoy_1736.png" width="335" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plan of the Savoy Palace in 1736, from W.J. Loftie (1878) <i>Memorial of the Savoy</i> (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The one palace that can still be visited is Somerset House, originally built by Edward Seymour, first Earl of Hertford, and later Duke of Somerset, in 1549. It was sequestered by the Crown, following Seymour's execution in 1552, and subsequently occupied by Anne of Denmark (the wife of James VI and I); Henrietta Maria (the wife of Charles I); and the Parliamentary General, Thomas Fairfax. In its current, neo-Classical, incarnation, it was designed by Sir William Chambers, with new wings being added in 1831 and 1856.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANhyHCVwx8k3fU0M2v0fXzpZ8Ghkw7UPbfDFZbof12k-AWn623e_XJSHY6_89-188FfxJtShwjKMzmO7f1KQRcZKgAMKgmOSW2fqs6bSR_wpsDOpVZEzxfpJcXDfPFC5NALJgmlNt2yo/s1600/Somerset_House_by_Kip_1722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="400" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANhyHCVwx8k3fU0M2v0fXzpZ8Ghkw7UPbfDFZbof12k-AWn623e_XJSHY6_89-188FfxJtShwjKMzmO7f1KQRcZKgAMKgmOSW2fqs6bSR_wpsDOpVZEzxfpJcXDfPFC5NALJgmlNt2yo/s400/Somerset_House_by_Kip_1722.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somerset House, by Jan Kip, 1722 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Cy_zOEhP4bzFb2_fjEdYphuOKZOHu-zviupm1AVC1R8R7Rptv13fh0Xi9u9ftYuXcTEGQ_TgBl6yIDmegPE7rBFZw3AL_XhojabU-x2z0rddxjCH5MeC73v9K46Le1i0VFBruvGp9uw/s1600/CanalettoSomersetHouseTerrace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="389" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Cy_zOEhP4bzFb2_fjEdYphuOKZOHu-zviupm1AVC1R8R7Rptv13fh0Xi9u9ftYuXcTEGQ_TgBl6yIDmegPE7rBFZw3AL_XhojabU-x2z0rddxjCH5MeC73v9K46Le1i0VFBruvGp9uw/s400/CanalettoSomersetHouseTerrace.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The terrace of Somerset House, by Canaletto, 1750 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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"Old money" gave way to "new" in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, and, by the mid-Nineteenth Century, The Strand was very much the domain of entrepreneurs, whose primary business was popular entertainment. One such was Carlo Gatti, an impoverished Swiss immigrant who came to London in 1847, and sold chestnuts and waffles from street stalls. He went on to introduce the ice cream to British consumers for the first time, selling one-lick portions in wafer shells from a stall in Hungerford Market.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxEyQE0GlT28PA3rY9POuTkQaBrP4Tl82gvi8Jzr2wFbnbKdH3vVqWQghp0nmc0wh6ml3JL5gb-w3GAv6i0qQ_Ov-YNmigDqTZzTvoU6Ihh9mor21qkY0-sGyg1YnIji19z62ahISYAQ/s1600/Old+Hungerford+Market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="622" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxEyQE0GlT28PA3rY9POuTkQaBrP4Tl82gvi8Jzr2wFbnbKdH3vVqWQghp0nmc0wh6ml3JL5gb-w3GAv6i0qQ_Ov-YNmigDqTZzTvoU6Ihh9mor21qkY0-sGyg1YnIji19z62ahISYAQ/s400/Old+Hungerford+Market.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Hungerford Market, 1805 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLR7Xhyphenhyphenket1yPwTaawmrWMbsxeNBcPZSWNC6c_29pfOgyIjt5iCoUZyEX9aP3kcLpwmy30V_1NDtF_wa6pthjeRFKlwxa_u-SV0QngqX0dcg5pPtzE67LaiytDXsTjxvJ_Hi58SG5BbQQ/s1600/ice_cream_seller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="928" data-original-width="730" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLR7Xhyphenhyphenket1yPwTaawmrWMbsxeNBcPZSWNC6c_29pfOgyIjt5iCoUZyEX9aP3kcLpwmy30V_1NDtF_wa6pthjeRFKlwxa_u-SV0QngqX0dcg5pPtzE67LaiytDXsTjxvJ_Hi58SG5BbQQ/s400/ice_cream_seller.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A vendor of ice-cream, 1870s, British Library (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZCHIMEIti2kQdzSq4bmlwOt0Ak7NQWu8QY3MZoJr4kMcYQ_awbOQK0U0nABZdLf3juRllfTwAIQQ_2TEbZdY0uH5Q6INhQMjnbCVnyeefjCJgX7yFLhIjYBa255hTGoL6hW9elzCuQQ/s1600/Penny+Ice+Man.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="491" data-original-width="407" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZCHIMEIti2kQdzSq4bmlwOt0Ak7NQWu8QY3MZoJr4kMcYQ_awbOQK0U0nABZdLf3juRllfTwAIQQ_2TEbZdY0uH5Q6INhQMjnbCVnyeefjCJgX7yFLhIjYBa255hTGoL6hW9elzCuQQ/s400/Penny+Ice+Man.gif" width="331" /></a></div>
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The market was badly damage by a fire in 1854, but Gatti was insured. He built a music hall with the proceeds of his pay-out, and sold the site to the South-Eastern Railway Company in 1862 at an enormous profit (Charing Cross Station now stands on this site). He opened a second music hall, "Gatti's in the Road," in 1865; and a third, "Gatti's in the Arches," in 1867. In 1871, he returned to Switzerland, a millionaire.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Z1rpv1-0FOg55ZQ2aIrnHjyAvcJE5PTQ04fqrnMjhtHhpvetlt8qDNQnSDCpwGCIVdStwiIGHWFG2ezYsP2s1iTScG-234kKBnSrGGXFDu6A20nJEj_PwUXxrmB_jg4hLwU07y7zXsg/s1600/Katie+Lawrence+at+Gattis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="614" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Z1rpv1-0FOg55ZQ2aIrnHjyAvcJE5PTQ04fqrnMjhtHhpvetlt8qDNQnSDCpwGCIVdStwiIGHWFG2ezYsP2s1iTScG-234kKBnSrGGXFDu6A20nJEj_PwUXxrmB_jg4hLwU07y7zXsg/s400/Katie+Lawrence+at+Gattis.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katie Lawrence at Gatti's, by Walter Sickert, c 1903 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGemy2cP2TXh5uftCeN23E0boDBtrpgaPIYHKC_PsL8yqdRpk5jxMZpxOlnX5WF5ASXIIENE2DKduYk68O599wwhKLNQfQ0DSOGaDMG4rz-yuONmYqUXkMjcv91eHB31uY4IX8oLB5r-0/s1600/Gatti+music+hall+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="236" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGemy2cP2TXh5uftCeN23E0boDBtrpgaPIYHKC_PsL8yqdRpk5jxMZpxOlnX5WF5ASXIIENE2DKduYk68O599wwhKLNQfQ0DSOGaDMG4rz-yuONmYqUXkMjcv91eHB31uY4IX8oLB5r-0/s400/Gatti+music+hall+poster.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poster for Gatti's (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Another of these entertainment tycoons was Sir Richard d'Oyly Carte, who leased the Opera Comique, off The Strand, in 1874, and who went on to promote the works of William Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan. Like Gatti, he reinvested his early profits, opening the Savoy Theatre in 1881: with seating for 1300 people, this was the first public building in the World to be lit by electricity. With the profits from <i>The Mikado</i>, in 1889, he opened the Savoy Hotel, on the site of John of Gaunt's old palace, employing the dream-team of Cesar Ritz as Manager, and Auguste Escoffier as Head Chef. D'Oyly Carte had to fire both for lining their pockets at his expense, but they did not remain in disgrace for long, going on to found the Ritz Hotel.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRoNbLDHKAFmfLQSSFDFfmwpzc-qZhJWK1vnl6t__KGzKjojPVf3i_aBfSMFQ1bVAucqphAQ6YCiOYvInswq1ec35d5Jf57L1tcRjCJqa562ff5_P07Dd0t04ZQsujTzyPylyx8M6amw/s1600/Savoy+Theatre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="491" data-original-width="330" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRoNbLDHKAFmfLQSSFDFfmwpzc-qZhJWK1vnl6t__KGzKjojPVf3i_aBfSMFQ1bVAucqphAQ6YCiOYvInswq1ec35d5Jf57L1tcRjCJqa562ff5_P07Dd0t04ZQsujTzyPylyx8M6amw/s400/Savoy+Theatre.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Savoy Theatre, 1881 (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAD0zk7Lrbk30LyGkHAbgGDJVYKr405YWIk_07x9A6bVf7ZvLadolT-x_f7DFBS_-Xtpl5JpqH5VT8edQZOuvpseZlvBD1CKAhtngpzAMCW8BRKqGNGe-fnMVGjbxHqCPMS2EIbhF1Ao/s1600/1881_Patience.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1033" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAD0zk7Lrbk30LyGkHAbgGDJVYKr405YWIk_07x9A6bVf7ZvLadolT-x_f7DFBS_-Xtpl5JpqH5VT8edQZOuvpseZlvBD1CKAhtngpzAMCW8BRKqGNGe-fnMVGjbxHqCPMS2EIbhF1Ao/s400/1881_Patience.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
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To the east of Charing Cross Station, Villiers Street slopes down towards the Thames (it is named after George Villiers, the first Duke of Buckingham (a favourite of James VI and I, and subsequently an adviser to his son, Charles I). Watergate Walk leads off to the east, and brings us to York Watergate, which gave access to Villiers's palace from the river, the preferred means of transport for the wealthier residents of Seventeenth Century London. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaTXbMzTSMZYOidqDdnaW0kGRr1vQNVA5imKKzdUdJUpqhrLriXjhSKkb4mxtD-WpCIeEF9RxmlykA9mQz4-3yL6Te3Uq3MSliitA1fwRblRCNX6xsdCuGq_LdvjYsPcO5zYHrlHoPxSk/s1600/York+Water+Gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaTXbMzTSMZYOidqDdnaW0kGRr1vQNVA5imKKzdUdJUpqhrLriXjhSKkb4mxtD-WpCIeEF9RxmlykA9mQz4-3yL6Te3Uq3MSliitA1fwRblRCNX6xsdCuGq_LdvjYsPcO5zYHrlHoPxSk/s400/York+Water+Gate.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The York Water Gate (1626). Photo: Mike Peel (www.mikepeel.net), licensed under CCA.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADDF3hbj2Lbzq7VaqKFy7IJXPxHmQXgwJPpVA7252JmjyQ14xAXBIouKqSIqABQmQR4Xbyfpp18nAV1CDwVfWTF3YUTC4OqdTWq9gvYoawArTcuWe1B97aGCTjLxDV-Xr665sQRx39Cw/s1600/Pether+York+Water+Gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="600" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADDF3hbj2Lbzq7VaqKFy7IJXPxHmQXgwJPpVA7252JmjyQ14xAXBIouKqSIqABQmQR4Xbyfpp18nAV1CDwVfWTF3YUTC4OqdTWq9gvYoawArTcuWe1B97aGCTjLxDV-Xr665sQRx39Cw/s400/Pether+York+Water+Gate.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Adelpi from the River, by Henry Pether, c 1850, Museum of London (Image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-87335470685291419752019-03-21T08:50:00.001-07:002019-04-11T23:47:49.383-07:00The Story of London in 50 Novels: 13 - "The Giant O'Brien," by Hilary MantelLondon's seasonal fairs, of which <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2016/10/the-wards-of-old-london-st-bartholomew.html">Bartholomew Fair</a> was the best known, had, since Medieval times, been a focus for public entertainment, as well as social interaction and commercial transactions. Storytellers and performing bears, jugglers, musicians, and fortune tellers, all vied for the attentions of stall-holders and revelers. Later, as "London" became more than just "The City," and as burgeoning theatres and shopping arcades attracted increasing numbers of people to "The West End," entrepreneurs from across the British Isles, and from further afield, began to think in terms of "curiosities" that they could "exhibit" for the entertainment of an eager (and sometimes gullible) public.<br />
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Throughout the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, there were "sapient pigs," trained to perform calculations, spell out words, and even tell fortunes, by picking up cards with their mouths; "mermaids," created by stitching together the desiccated torsos of monkeys with the tails of fish; and a whole host of bearded ladies, hermaphrodites, and "freaks of nature."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVhCY14VvbQz2MRyT8_3-gB2KyrnmblOuNmOk-2Z1zIIn3dis5OTBCUq_VMmxm41Kx2ktXj5HG-u3FoUQ4ue8jY0khdArB3a1HRXxq3k9iOzty101aj10VBI9WgGJvvmBpYnPeRrAKEM/s1600/Toby_the_sapient_pig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="264" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVhCY14VvbQz2MRyT8_3-gB2KyrnmblOuNmOk-2Z1zIIn3dis5OTBCUq_VMmxm41Kx2ktXj5HG-u3FoUQ4ue8jY0khdArB3a1HRXxq3k9iOzty101aj10VBI9WgGJvvmBpYnPeRrAKEM/s400/Toby_the_sapient_pig.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Advertisement for "Toby the Sapient Pig," 1817 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Often suffering from disabilities or serious illnesses, the living "exhibits" were mercilessly exploited for the profit of others. Some "exhibitions" were overtly racist, as in the case of Sara Baartmans ("the Hottentot Venus"), a woman from southern Africa, who was exhibited in London and Paris between 1810 and 1815.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQxD_sdxcWLv54VrolSYJOL21kWeJV3HNulWxigRmy77q_xztOFsSNK6dWVyoHzriSt6msKrEUVmqMXBSQSsGvKHHvTw6y30ZDQXQu32YuruOdRkVxWrE19PN94nBB3vk-_PlN6-AkcZI/s1600/Sara+Baartman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQxD_sdxcWLv54VrolSYJOL21kWeJV3HNulWxigRmy77q_xztOFsSNK6dWVyoHzriSt6msKrEUVmqMXBSQSsGvKHHvTw6y30ZDQXQu32YuruOdRkVxWrE19PN94nBB3vk-_PlN6-AkcZI/s400/Sara+Baartman.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caricature by William Heath (1810), of Sara Baartman, with the politicians, Richard Sheridan (in green), and Lord Grenville (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Charles Byrne (1761-83), the "Irish Giant," was born in County Tyrone, and arrived in London in 1782. He was 7'7" (2.31 metres) tall, the result (we now know) of the pituitary tumour that would take his life just a year later. He was exhibited at Spring Garden-gate, Piccadilly, and Charing Cross, and, on his death, his body was acquired, contrary to his own wishes (he had asked to be buried at sea), by the surgeon, John Hunter. Despite recent attempts to secure a burial for his remains in accordance with his wishes, his skeleton is still on display in the Hunterian Museum in Lincoln's Inn Fields (the remains of Sara Baartman, by contrast, were returned to South Africa for burial).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLFy_R60Rqte-uK8TNoEEajBKDfDxJfDXX2jQo2VBTZNGdlUIloRUsKpdsb0QX5MVy0huzL7OpnFAMhR15-jcU-SBZac5RySSsAcMR0eSzx0SiCcKiaxOEtBc_SfnQFg1PnpnzI-s-78/s1600/Charles+Byrne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="913" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLFy_R60Rqte-uK8TNoEEajBKDfDxJfDXX2jQo2VBTZNGdlUIloRUsKpdsb0QX5MVy0huzL7OpnFAMhR15-jcU-SBZac5RySSsAcMR0eSzx0SiCcKiaxOEtBc_SfnQFg1PnpnzI-s-78/s400/Charles+Byrne.jpg" width="350" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles Byrne (centre), flanked by the Knipe brothers (twin giants), by John Kay, National Portrait Gallery D14755 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebO6DVL62fKh1u9vM70qhCrGLNaTW3GT6x73xxO4QsjuzDrOPs0e51J9oHxknLsdl7lk4fA4lNEA07A6_jrRApp5d0YTBHtSKrNkfsC29pxqfe7aUnR1Y2da_sYLBdye7Ghu2K8eu7eI/s1600/Hunterian+Museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1200" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebO6DVL62fKh1u9vM70qhCrGLNaTW3GT6x73xxO4QsjuzDrOPs0e51J9oHxknLsdl7lk4fA4lNEA07A6_jrRApp5d0YTBHtSKrNkfsC29pxqfe7aUnR1Y2da_sYLBdye7Ghu2K8eu7eI/s400/Hunterian+Museum.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hunterian Museum, with Charles Byrne's skeleton at the end. Photo: Paul Dean (StoneColdCrazy) - licensed under GNU.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxbxzf3oDVdLE11TzklnY2WC58qZ93mqjFl87jM-ZG9yxS24OMR1DBbF7Qu2INAUZkxIHu8EwQuc3Y8Xpo-0_wiBmcZ0odCF6pqMh1emMn5V7jAs6JiaeWObZiT1-r4zWs9C0kafmCrE/s1600/John_Hunter_by_John_Jackson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="702" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxbxzf3oDVdLE11TzklnY2WC58qZ93mqjFl87jM-ZG9yxS24OMR1DBbF7Qu2INAUZkxIHu8EwQuc3Y8Xpo-0_wiBmcZ0odCF6pqMh1emMn5V7jAs6JiaeWObZiT1-r4zWs9C0kafmCrE/s400/John_Hunter_by_John_Jackson.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Hunter, portrait by John Jackson (1815), after a lost original (1786) by Sir Joshua Reynolds: National Portrait Gallery 77 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Hilary Mantel's novel, <i>The Giant O'Brien </i>is based on Byrne's life story, but, by changing the name, she gives herself free license to invent the many details that history has not remembered about the real man (we know almost nothing of Byrne's background, character, or life in London beyond his public appearances).<br />
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In the novel, the life-stories of the giant, Charles O'Brien, and that of the surgeon, John Hunter, are juxtaposed. Both are outsiders in London, but, whilst the dour Scot is a calculating man of science; the Irish giant is a man steeped in traditional story-telling and folklore, a generous and engaging character with an original perspective on London life. Whether this reflects the personality of the real Charles Byrne is open to question (he is unlikely to have had much learning of any kind, and may have suffered from mental impairment as a result of his condition), but what is certain is that London in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries was a meeting place for people from many different backgrounds, and with sharply contrasting outlooks on the world.<br />
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"<i>London is like the sea and the gallows. It refuses none. Sometimes on the journey, trapped in the ship's stink and heave, they had talked about the premises they would have at journeys end. They should be commodious, Vance said, and in a fashionable neighbourhood, central and well-lit, on a broad thoroughfare where the carriages of the gentry can turn without difficulty. 'My brother has a lodging in St Clement's Lane,' Claffey said, 'I don't know if it's commodious.' Vance blew out through his lips. 'Nest of beggars,' he said. 'As to your perquisites and embellishments, Charlie, they say a pagoda is the last word in fashion' ... 'Will you have a story?' the Giant soothed them. For the time must be passed, must be passed" ... The Giant did not stop to ask what kind of story they would like, for they were contentious, like fretful children, and were in no position to know what was good for them. 'One day,' he began, the son of the King of Ireland journeyed to the east to find a bride.' 'Where east?' Vance asked, 'East London?' 'Albania,' the Giant said. 'Or far Cathay.'" </i><br />
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<i>"Seventeen forty-eight saw John Hunter, a set-jawed red-head astride a sway-backed plodder, heading south towards the stench of tanneries and soap-boilers. He came to London across Finchley Common, with the gibbeted corpses of villains groaning into the wind ... At the top of Highgate Hill he came to the Gatehouse Tavern, and observed London laid out before him. The evening was fine and the air mild." </i><br />
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<i>"London is ringed by fire, by ooze. Men with ladders carry pitch-soaked ropes in the street, and branched globes of light sprout fro the houses. Pybus thinks they have come to a country where they do not have a moon, but Vance is sure they will see it presently, and so they do, drowned in a muddy puddle in Chandos Street." </i><br />
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<i>"That summer the Giant grew rich. He washed in Castille soap, and made the purchase of some decanters. His followers ate green peas and strawberries. Joe Vance played with the writing set, and Pybus, Claffey, and Jankin haunted the skittle-alleys, the cock-fighting, the prize-fighting, the dog-fighting, and the bull-baiting. 'If we go on so,' said Claffey, grinning, 'we will have tamboured waistcoats like the quality, and silver buckles to our shoes.' 'What do you mean, if we go on so/ I am not likely to shrink.'</i><br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-61995642617995738432019-02-03T06:46:00.000-08:002019-02-03T09:51:59.800-08:00How Art Began? Antony Gormley on Prehistoric ArtThe British sculptor, Antony Gormley, in a recent television programme (<a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b0c1ngds/antony-gormley-how-art-began">available on BBC I-Player until the end of February</a>), explored the question of how art began, among some of the earliest human hunter-gatherer groups during the Pleistocene era (between 2.6 million and 11.7 thousand years ago). Like the exploration of the same topic by the German film-director, Werner Herzog, in his documentary, <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2011/03/forgotten-dreams-in-land-of-painted.html">"The Cave of Forgotten Dreams"</a>, his viewpoint is an intensely personal one: that of an artist, confronting the work of his fellow artists (albeit across a chasm spanning tens of millennia); rather than that of an archaeologist or prehistorian, trying to make sense of "Palaeolithic art," alongside other categories of material evidence. Whilst Herzog's exploration was of a specific site (the Chauvet Cave, in the French valley of the Ardeche), Gormley, refreshingly, takes a truly Global perspective, travelling through France and Spain, and on to Australia, by way of Indonesia, taking in, along the way, some of the most important recent discoveries in his field of interest.<br />
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Antony Gormley and I are separated in age by just fifteen years, and, early in our careers, we both undertook journeys through Europe, alighting (it would seem from the glimpses of his photo album) at many of the same prehistoric sites. His journey took place at the end of his training at the Slade School of Art; whereas my various journeys happened before, during, and after my archaeological studies at Cambridge; so it would be unsurprising if we were seeking answers to different questions (although he had previously followed the same course at Cambridge that I would later follow, and would surely have been taught by some of the same people).<br />
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Intriguingly for a sculptor, Gormley has almost nothing to say about Palaeolithic sculpture (there is plenty of it, in ivory, bone, and stone, and some of the finest pieces featured in the British Museum's recent "Ice Age Art" exhibition), focusing instead on the paintings and engravings found on the walls of caves, and on outcrops of rock. His journey begins, unsurprisingly, in the French valley of the Dordogne, at the site of Les Combarelles, which featured in my youthful "Grand Tour," as it did in his.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3PL1Z3tQgQzAip0RfDkJtXH9p0Ohk2uCAJAvx1o9rQs9yRIk772UmsUyEuYhRmT2Lgic5vXjMyoY6MHjfaC5dRmhqj4NuqD2xegpBF-oVzlGOTXpn0wgGoZKTixG8OcJqYL5DpmX9VM/s1600/Les+Combarelles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="539" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3PL1Z3tQgQzAip0RfDkJtXH9p0Ohk2uCAJAvx1o9rQs9yRIk772UmsUyEuYhRmT2Lgic5vXjMyoY6MHjfaC5dRmhqj4NuqD2xegpBF-oVzlGOTXpn0wgGoZKTixG8OcJqYL5DpmX9VM/s400/Les+Combarelles.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cave of Les Combarelles. Photo: Ethan Doyle White (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfbxv-REXWgy1p5mqWFigmWQEccu-KTAtESReLGqeRez26bpiwTBngHImJUChKpKlcLvyy9imSVgctSql3AioTeVcA3Uq-dF29gHuxMU5H-b-CVe8o3O6LzJf4DR3NzYruS032Fy31Bs/s1600/Combarelles+Lion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="627" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfbxv-REXWgy1p5mqWFigmWQEccu-KTAtESReLGqeRez26bpiwTBngHImJUChKpKlcLvyy9imSVgctSql3AioTeVcA3Uq-dF29gHuxMU5H-b-CVe8o3O6LzJf4DR3NzYruS032Fy31Bs/s400/Combarelles+Lion.jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Engraving of a lion, Les Combarelles. Photo: Heinrich Wendel (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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The cave contains more than six hundred paintings and engravings, made by hunter-gatherers between thirteen and eleven thousand years ago. For Gormley, it is "<i>a cathedral of memory, but also of joy in living things</i>," and reflects the timeless concern of the artist with the question: "<i>what does it feel like to be alive now.</i>" He continues to the nearby cave of Font-de-Gaume, where the art is seventeen thousand year old. "<i>It's the act of drawing that's the thing,</i>" he concludes, "<i>and maybe it came, and maybe it didn't</i>." We must, he insists, "<i>give up on the idea of the hairy caveman being a brute</i>," but I imagine that he must have given up on such ideas, as I had, before beginning his studies, or we would neither of us have made the early-career "pilgrimages" that we did.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-msZq5Kt4_96KkjvbhrHQItmgW3eAdmdt3UgsNGuRvgOTkdaNmzUJtBqTqqtIWrL-uuvgVrGUzHuOA6r091d4yjnakm7rX5GLAWAjo7MyWPqbYXPwTHZ_4EcQGBYe4QG7AFMs9p7ON8/s1600/Reindeer_painting_from_Font-de-Gaume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="363" data-original-width="677" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-msZq5Kt4_96KkjvbhrHQItmgW3eAdmdt3UgsNGuRvgOTkdaNmzUJtBqTqqtIWrL-uuvgVrGUzHuOA6r091d4yjnakm7rX5GLAWAjo7MyWPqbYXPwTHZ_4EcQGBYe4QG7AFMs9p7ON8/s400/Reindeer_painting_from_Font-de-Gaume.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reindeer depicted on the wall of Fond-de-Gaume. Image: H. Breuil, 1912 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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At Pech-Merle, he meets the French prehistorian, Michel Lorblanchet, who has undertaken an experimental reconstruction of some of the painted works.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuME17ilB4hpIjBLjsI4-4BUcR54GzpdlGjyqtBcyqpY5SADYZOjdYVS6mR3WUVyxxJf3rcQoI3p4sN4SGzUIk0ifQGVxWk08fexL5l0ACebaD7uRdeajpS89fx2GqvLA_sDIjnVPCKk/s1600/Pech_Merle_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuME17ilB4hpIjBLjsI4-4BUcR54GzpdlGjyqtBcyqpY5SADYZOjdYVS6mR3WUVyxxJf3rcQoI3p4sN4SGzUIk0ifQGVxWk08fexL5l0ACebaD7uRdeajpS89fx2GqvLA_sDIjnVPCKk/s400/Pech_Merle_main.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hand-stencil from Pech-Merle. Photo: French Ministry of Culture, PA00094994 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIgi8Bmf28cokEPwnpli8_daSp8YYPwDmtohNhTyXwuJCnVr_e_2zlokzIPdKCVfqJGhZPkL46G1p23BoFqCnz7K5z6OfM2u0nE2M7GGcsRLPZGJmfE0ExETRwfN5TUXmnAs8mebc2d4/s1600/Pech_Merle_cave_leopard_spotting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1074" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIgi8Bmf28cokEPwnpli8_daSp8YYPwDmtohNhTyXwuJCnVr_e_2zlokzIPdKCVfqJGhZPkL46G1p23BoFqCnz7K5z6OfM2u0nE2M7GGcsRLPZGJmfE0ExETRwfN5TUXmnAs8mebc2d4/s400/Pech_Merle_cave_leopard_spotting.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horses depicted at Pech-Merle. Photo: Kersti Nebelsiek (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Lorblanchet considers sites such as Pech-Merle, Font-de-Gaume, and Les Combarelles as "Temples of Nature," and he is surely influenced, here, by his Eighteenth Century compatriot, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who romanticised the status of hunter-gatherers as existing in an idyllic "state of nature." Rousseau's vision, in turn, goes back to the Classical ideas of the Greek poet, Hesiod, and the Roman Ovid:<br />
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"<i>No cities were yet ringed round with deep, precipitous earthworks; long straight trumpets and curved bronze horns never summoned to battle ... but nations were free to practice the gentle arts of peace. The Earth was equally free and at rest, untouched by the hoe, unscathed by the plough-share, supplying all needs from its natural resources. Content to enjoy the food that required no painful producing, men simply gathered arbutus fruit and mountain strawberries ..." </i>(Ovid's <i>Metamorphoses, </i>translated by David Raeburn, Penguin Classics).<br />
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This is unlikely to have been the view of an Ice Age forager-artist, standing with her daughters looking down on the valley of the Lot, or the Dordogne.<br />
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At Niaux, in the French Pyrenees, Gormley encounters "<i>a very different kind of imagery.</i>" It reminds him of the work of Picasso, and, as he explains, he does not care for Picasso "<i>because he was a predator.</i>" For him, this art is full of egotism, and obsessed with death, infused with "<i>our species sense of superiority, and the right to end the lives of other creatures.</i>" He sees in it "<i>the beginning of the end</i>" of a world view based on a appreciation of the human role within nature, yet its artists lived between twelve and fourteen thousand years ago, and may well have been the contemporaries of those at Les Combarelles. Perhaps, in his own terms, Gormley has simply encountered an individual artist for whom he does not care?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7iQzRINn_FPImimIZRSjxWllMwDJcBWxfFLm0DRMNjeivkx0KL-U0Ip0MnWOahEHuwox3zZaiRNM3lVEACYbcm2PBjaokpcEdhZcJ-AGSN3VpT7pMOTf3WCde_TXOonRxDi6afHnhmI/s1600/Niaux+bison.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7iQzRINn_FPImimIZRSjxWllMwDJcBWxfFLm0DRMNjeivkx0KL-U0Ip0MnWOahEHuwox3zZaiRNM3lVEACYbcm2PBjaokpcEdhZcJ-AGSN3VpT7pMOTf3WCde_TXOonRxDi6afHnhmI/s400/Niaux+bison.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bison depicted at Niaux. Photo: HTO (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The journey continues into Spain, where Gormley visits the site of La Cueva del Castillo. The art here is, at least superficially, similar to some of that at Pech-Merle, but the surprise comes with the dating: the hand-stencils here go back some forty thousand, eight hundred years, meaning that a wider chasm separates its artists from those of Niaux or Les Combarelles than separates them from contemporary artists such as Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin, or Antony Gormley himself.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKO-NInjhM2KMsRy-hQsTd28r5qS6PF9rEwiUzOustRyhAN5cskP6drqRPA_yOYIwT2sz_KHZHrGrsakKTYGeu376fdNQvmSGymVmwMaTebF8VGrTjsVUslpaleOq_zwfFVhnNJSQlKZc/s1600/Cueva_del_Castillo_interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKO-NInjhM2KMsRy-hQsTd28r5qS6PF9rEwiUzOustRyhAN5cskP6drqRPA_yOYIwT2sz_KHZHrGrsakKTYGeu376fdNQvmSGymVmwMaTebF8VGrTjsVUslpaleOq_zwfFVhnNJSQlKZc/s400/Cueva_del_Castillo_interior.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paintings in the Cueva del Castillo. Photo: Government of Cantabria (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SShGOZZ8ddWBk2iKFszP32IMOSfpvhzzsZyCPwvB483gHmh093XAzRJUCq6J8TrQneRZ3k-KSU3oFyOED3tmd-5PmfnkW9ODGBT7rQGbrDDmQgcnK_tGy2HFtKUc32QpaEiKW6ietuc/s1600/Cueva+del+Castillo+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1014" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SShGOZZ8ddWBk2iKFszP32IMOSfpvhzzsZyCPwvB483gHmh093XAzRJUCq6J8TrQneRZ3k-KSU3oFyOED3tmd-5PmfnkW9ODGBT7rQGbrDDmQgcnK_tGy2HFtKUc32QpaEiKW6ietuc/s400/Cueva+del+Castillo+hands.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hand-stencils in the Cueva del Castillo. Photo: Miguel Anguel de Arribas (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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This poses further questions. Gormley was presumably taught at Cambridge, as I was, that the practice of art was unique to fully modern humans, our own species, <i>Homo sapiens sapiens</i>. Yet the dates from El Castillo, and other sites in Spain (some going back more than sixty thousand years) raise the likelihood that art was being produced by some of the other human species (including Neanderthals) with whom our ancestors shared the Earth over a period of millennia (most modern Europeans, in any case, share a proportion of Neanderthal DNA, showing that the two species not only interbred, but that the offspring were fertile, and some of them were, themselves, our ancestors).<br />
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Further surprises (at least for those who have not been following the most recent discoveries at conferences, or via social media) come from further afield. At Petta Kare, on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi, hand stencils remarkably like those from El Castillo and Pech-Merle have been found to date back forty thousand years; and the site itself seems to have continued in use for more than a millennium, with later artists, around thirty thousand years ago, adding representations of the babirusa, a native wild pig (images not publicly available, although they are shown in Gormley's film).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaVtOQMP7SqWchIMlrzBO6GkPdMdDV2VIDd9oGHQXXyCpdgtPMCDeMEELKjmPuNm_tiYj7-0zVBkssT7i8r-NHWKrsJpILuTNSnAQxVnA2IbpDBDsq0Rztc4Dv_HA9lZ6DwQZ0Y33KCo/s1600/Pettakare+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaVtOQMP7SqWchIMlrzBO6GkPdMdDV2VIDd9oGHQXXyCpdgtPMCDeMEELKjmPuNm_tiYj7-0zVBkssT7i8r-NHWKrsJpILuTNSnAQxVnA2IbpDBDsq0Rztc4Dv_HA9lZ6DwQZ0Y33KCo/s400/Pettakare+hands.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hand-stencils from Petta Kare. Photo: Cahyo Ramadhani (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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In Australia, the dating evidence is, for the moment, more ambiguous, but the earliest art may date back as far as sixty thousand years. Here again, however, we encounter the restless ghosts of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Ovid, and Hesiod; which haunt not the sacred places of the Aboriginal Australians, but rather the deepest recesses of our own European imaginations. Modern Aboriginals, some of them artists themselves, are presented as the direct inheritors of this ancient tradition, but can this be any more true than to see Antony Gormley as standing in a direct line of succession from the unnamed masters (or, indeed, mistresses) of Pech-Merle?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsSP_gOlJgnVrOyAQpxybc1JYMmaN_sLihNUv21EGYzqxvxlJv6mf0f0LVROTqNyySALmE2SNyGix2JXVAyJMi-evBWm6p0LsNJhCCh5ylLVCFASYSZr2grZ9V9KV5aUHCLvdW_jw8OM/s1600/Bradshaw_rock_paintings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsSP_gOlJgnVrOyAQpxybc1JYMmaN_sLihNUv21EGYzqxvxlJv6mf0f0LVROTqNyySALmE2SNyGix2JXVAyJMi-evBWm6p0LsNJhCCh5ylLVCFASYSZr2grZ9V9KV5aUHCLvdW_jw8OM/s400/Bradshaw_rock_paintings.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Human figures from Kimberley, Western Australia. Photo: Tim JN1 (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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Aboriginals are not "survivors" from the Palaeolithic (except in the sense that we all are), clinging to a tradition that the rest of us abandoned more than ten centuries ago, but, like us, inventors and innovators of their own dynamic culture. Antony Gormley is, I suspect, very likely to be proven right in his belief that we would find early prehistoric art in other regions of the world (in Africa and India, for example), "<i>if only we looked hard enough.</i>" In the course of this looking, we might well discover that the human concern with "<i>leaving a trace,</i>" which we see alike in the surviving works of the World's earliest artists, and in those of contemporary artists around the World, is written into the DNA, not only of our species (<i>Homo sapiens sapiens</i>), but of an entire genus (<i>Homo</i>), of which we happen to be the only surviving representatives.<br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
<br />Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-38050094926943963572019-01-13T08:02:00.001-08:002019-06-08T10:13:33.816-07:00The Streets of Old Westminster: Precincts of the Palace of WhitehallA visitor to London, exploring the City of Westminster, and having explored <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-streets-of-old-westminster-from.html">Parliament Square</a>, can walk northwards, along Whitehall, to Trafalgar Square. Whitehall today is lined, as it has been since the Seventeenth Century, by government buildings (HM Treasury, The Ministry of Defence, The Scottish and Welsh Offices), and by statues of some of the leading figures in British military history. Downing Street, where the Prime Minister of the day resides, leads off from it, as does Scotland Yard, formerly the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police from 1829. Whitehall also forms part of one of the most important ceremonial routes in the life of the nation: Royal coronation, wedding, and funeral processions pass this way (replacing the Medieval and Early Modern processional route from the Tower of London through the City); and it is at the heart of the annual commemoration of British and Commonwealth War dead.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9XecIdlDy3nGsnNftkv7H2w6T7ENDZFBvbjaabiaKKnxf0Z2FVokl6P0KFSZBbtDa3kOIErlJxqvxGRTaz3X4P666ie-KZeX9XC1_TEtHtosLyI3P9t2kDAUHMkSuq8RuHw-YPKTbCow/s1600/Whitehall+1953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="1197" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9XecIdlDy3nGsnNftkv7H2w6T7ENDZFBvbjaabiaKKnxf0Z2FVokl6P0KFSZBbtDa3kOIErlJxqvxGRTaz3X4P666ie-KZeX9XC1_TEtHtosLyI3P9t2kDAUHMkSuq8RuHw-YPKTbCow/s400/Whitehall+1953.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whitehall in 1953, decorated for the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. Photo: Ben Brooksbank (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHXtK9vrNWLxNvaPkojIjmuzRiwxRmOix5mLMnrHobBQHKEnvHKgvtJ5RI9Gtg9s133-jMBDtar1pOYYvyk6D4Qarb7ITkFBxnSXPJSWlZMiBKZQaL16s8UDsQc-1r46MTTDcVRFjzTQ/s1600/Whitehall+monuments.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHXtK9vrNWLxNvaPkojIjmuzRiwxRmOix5mLMnrHobBQHKEnvHKgvtJ5RI9Gtg9s133-jMBDtar1pOYYvyk6D4Qarb7ITkFBxnSXPJSWlZMiBKZQaL16s8UDsQc-1r46MTTDcVRFjzTQ/s400/Whitehall+monuments.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whitehall today, looking south, with the Monument to the Women of World War II; and the Cenotaph in the background. Photo: Tbmurray (licensed under CCA). </td></tr>
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In the Thirteenth Century, the area lay outside the precincts of the Palace of Westminster. Most of the English bishops and archbishops kept palaces in London, allowing them to participate in the life of the Court, including the House of Lords. This was York Place, the London palace of the Archbishops of York. As such, it was occupied by Cardinal Wolsey, but was later seized from him by Henry VIII.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD65l2F-buxgKGqhbvYeVT9eJXES5bdBLtAt1WOK5OIWFF9WN4qqgUrRmg1ziyMoyI8JDPE1CZ14ulDDy_sZd48SK4CYzuetoO5LHAgXaS8R93hOosul_-EZJmz5v9n0XZMC5OjV_ZOPk/s1600/Wyngaerde_Palace_of_Whitehall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="857" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD65l2F-buxgKGqhbvYeVT9eJXES5bdBLtAt1WOK5OIWFF9WN4qqgUrRmg1ziyMoyI8JDPE1CZ14ulDDy_sZd48SK4CYzuetoO5LHAgXaS8R93hOosul_-EZJmz5v9n0XZMC5OjV_ZOPk/s400/Wyngaerde_Palace_of_Whitehall.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sketch of the Palace of Whitehall, c 1544, including a water-gate (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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During the reigns of Edward VI, Mary I, and James I, the two palaces (Westminster and Whitehall) functioned, in effect, as a single complex. Henry VIII added a bowling green and tennis court, and James I commissioned Inigo Jones to design what is now "The Banqueting House."<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDEERFLT-5OmCvHHjEhAI2D25RnsmQ-WD5gKYT6LNoQ6cE4CbcpNnxaDxed_LmSzxuaaXpSbzgDWlFINNaPL7HL37FrkESh_jWbglYLDfg-8utKKyouw1FoiU6gh6hWtt6vKMyZNhZrQ/s1600/Ingo_Jones_plan_for_a_new_palace_at_Whitehall_1638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="400" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDEERFLT-5OmCvHHjEhAI2D25RnsmQ-WD5gKYT6LNoQ6cE4CbcpNnxaDxed_LmSzxuaaXpSbzgDWlFINNaPL7HL37FrkESh_jWbglYLDfg-8utKKyouw1FoiU6gh6hWtt6vKMyZNhZrQ/s400/Ingo_Jones_plan_for_a_new_palace_at_Whitehall_1638.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inigo Jones's plan for a new Palace of Whitehall, c 1638 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExyfPE7g6ztaAfeob04PGAor_BCaQqkkG1l5vwDAq1Sfa9RYF9vJanfu_lhY1GeONnW2RCZhrwm16VxR911tX2ptrrLk9W8Ab3hPl7vDAtM5RcMS3GCEpCjiIWCPoDaIYBHAioFIQZdo/s1600/Banqueting_House_London.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="600" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExyfPE7g6ztaAfeob04PGAor_BCaQqkkG1l5vwDAq1Sfa9RYF9vJanfu_lhY1GeONnW2RCZhrwm16VxR911tX2ptrrLk9W8Ab3hPl7vDAtM5RcMS3GCEpCjiIWCPoDaIYBHAioFIQZdo/s400/Banqueting_House_London.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Banqueting House." Photo: ChrisO (licensed under GNU).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXo1UAu-QekjBMmmaPnzEv0Ml0SsQjmztQmGDqhJE0mzZC3QSF1O3rDkZxH-x2EbyAIhEAqdep_RGIGKPmA2kzBfgtoeKI2OeLW0TqeC2WX_OuDt9WQH8XLm-JjWlTNZXLDg20gw8IlU/s1600/Banqueting_House_03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="610" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXo1UAu-QekjBMmmaPnzEv0Ml0SsQjmztQmGDqhJE0mzZC3QSF1O3rDkZxH-x2EbyAIhEAqdep_RGIGKPmA2kzBfgtoeKI2OeLW0TqeC2WX_OuDt9WQH8XLm-JjWlTNZXLDg20gw8IlU/s400/Banqueting_House_03.jpg" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ceiling of the "Banqueting House," painted by Peter Paul Rubens, and commissioned by Charles I as a memorial to his father, James I. Photo: The Wub (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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In 1606, Shakespeare's <i>Macbeth</i>, with its dark themes of regicide and ensuing chaos, received its first performance in this building, in front of James I and his Queen, Anne of Denmark; yet just forty-three years later, the same building witnessed a true regicide, as their son, Charles I, stepped out from one of its windows onto the scaffold, witnessed by a young <a href="https://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.com/2016/01/samuel-pepys-plague-fire-and-revolution.html">Samuel Pepys</a>, who recalled a single Biblical verse: "<i>The memory of the wicked shall rot.</i>"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRuUYywnAUa2KA6oh1BOU4KQayM2-cZrxiKFAIVqr-ZRVsi7RSNoP00jXtitXYas3uoCVrBwFEV8iqbf06EU4AYjhdz6f4FzXaxeb0fhMfN793L0-sRzBGMV1AvzFd-zc9msUjN8Hxkk/s1600/The_Execution_of_Charles_I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1015" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRuUYywnAUa2KA6oh1BOU4KQayM2-cZrxiKFAIVqr-ZRVsi7RSNoP00jXtitXYas3uoCVrBwFEV8iqbf06EU4AYjhdz6f4FzXaxeb0fhMfN793L0-sRzBGMV1AvzFd-zc9msUjN8Hxkk/s400/The_Execution_of_Charles_I.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The execution of Charles I, c 1649 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Pepys had been taken to witness the execution by his father's cousin, the Republican, Sir Edward Montagu, and, during the Commonwealth era, the Palace of Whitehall was occupied by Montagu's patron, Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. A few decades on, both Montagu and Pepys were Royal servants, playing key roles in the Navy of Charles II. Pepys began his career as a Naval administrator living, effectively, as Montagu's servant, in his grace and favour apartment in Axe Yard; and later had his own home and offices nearby. There were bars and restaurants in New Palace Yard, where Pepys wined and dined his business contacts and his mistresses; and a theatre, where he enjoyed plays.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzfoPthHaTDgHhoEQzq3euy3RRNyVfy_Bz3xY24CdfADeNC85pWMRKqz8AYs-dqAehyR0bRjfUHbjPMWqBYtD4muxVS_ZfJ_8FkTNvStO00RW4YqLFqD6cIup_p_MgcVkAuVfoR2WCW0/s1600/Palace+of+Whitehall+1680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="914" data-original-width="1280" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzfoPthHaTDgHhoEQzq3euy3RRNyVfy_Bz3xY24CdfADeNC85pWMRKqz8AYs-dqAehyR0bRjfUHbjPMWqBYtD4muxVS_ZfJ_8FkTNvStO00RW4YqLFqD6cIup_p_MgcVkAuVfoR2WCW0/s640/Palace+of+Whitehall+1680.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Palace of Whitehall in 1680 (image is in the Public Domain.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBAohdLdvD-VA6kPAM3vfLWosC4NDCRxS30xfXLxbSQu7e9qrvsZhY4nzomg3KPgvQmEkmQ2iPpJygOzGE3y6po0pV5EriMtwwCxzp8mNbS6qAGWeC4raNagAl8qXjSC-PRzi5hEKIQY/s1600/Hollar+New+Palace+Yard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="970" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBAohdLdvD-VA6kPAM3vfLWosC4NDCRxS30xfXLxbSQu7e9qrvsZhY4nzomg3KPgvQmEkmQ2iPpJygOzGE3y6po0pV5EriMtwwCxzp8mNbS6qAGWeC4raNagAl8qXjSC-PRzi5hEKIQY/s640/Hollar+New+Palace+Yard.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Palace Yard in 1647, by Wenceslas Hollar (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBeTbaOl1982Puh9qZF4ns7BhCXmR8WHUy9iZ-o3OSQ54cmQvxff_4SA6pdEXJspQOh8LhofRSoYTK869b9w7Wf1HcjiLx2a2F1bTqtkzi24VdjkDWgsceFL0kQawl0_nrrnMVvjrUyo/s1600/The_Old_Palace_of_Whitehall_by_Hendrik_Danckerts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBeTbaOl1982Puh9qZF4ns7BhCXmR8WHUy9iZ-o3OSQ54cmQvxff_4SA6pdEXJspQOh8LhofRSoYTK869b9w7Wf1HcjiLx2a2F1bTqtkzi24VdjkDWgsceFL0kQawl0_nrrnMVvjrUyo/s400/The_Old_Palace_of_Whitehall_by_Hendrik_Danckerts.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old Palace of Whitehall, by Hendrick Danckaerts, c 1675, with the "Banqueting House" on the left (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<br />
Whitehall was re-modeled as a public street in the Eighteenth Century, and the elements of the former palace were gradually dismantled, leaving only the "Banqueting House" as a reminder of its former glories.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrKocQEC9T0vRMPtq7Q1tY8vjGbeeVaAGDvFUxJ6RejCGE-Oo9TK4T1VTUpLBC8GXoZ9UgX4bc2tmd8etJ10OxiIHam1HJBH0W6KsmyNlbI5gKTqKLM-kIBqgBe2jm5mk8RLftpFTx1s/s1600/Whitehall+1740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="656" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrKocQEC9T0vRMPtq7Q1tY8vjGbeeVaAGDvFUxJ6RejCGE-Oo9TK4T1VTUpLBC8GXoZ9UgX4bc2tmd8etJ10OxiIHam1HJBH0W6KsmyNlbI5gKTqKLM-kIBqgBe2jm5mk8RLftpFTx1s/s400/Whitehall+1740.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whitehall in 1740, looking south, by John Maurer: the "Banqueting House" is on the left (image is in the Public Domain). The "Holbein Gate" at the centre was builtin 1532, and demolished in 1759.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscbkHKTLnrefSqHORmzI-nMLdQrU29v00OZBTNPOyKy8EoqzcinyY5XlWzFJHdES9F1PPjsxqjjmSogCmeMJtsX1m213E78Is8xo0B_ip9OIhp_uIZb9JJGHYr2l9bIbuPs3y6PzfmPo/s1600/Horse_Guards_London.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscbkHKTLnrefSqHORmzI-nMLdQrU29v00OZBTNPOyKy8EoqzcinyY5XlWzFJHdES9F1PPjsxqjjmSogCmeMJtsX1m213E78Is8xo0B_ip9OIhp_uIZb9JJGHYr2l9bIbuPs3y6PzfmPo/s400/Horse_Guards_London.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Horse Guards Building was designed by William Kent (better known for the interiors and gardens of stately homes), and built, after his death, between 1750 and 1759. Photo: Alistair Welkin (licensed under CCA). </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2XKoA6b-OYa9uMYJX67d4VworqkMuuziXyNRl0iSGHX2ZsXtB_ENsWgGaYJFgx9IT0a0_2XnuiIehEKVUCJB6sr3URfaxhs6Nq-fqG-onN0kp9Mq47D3XXJkmyKzoCjJXFzDy3kaQ6U/s1600/Whitehall_OS_OpenData_map.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="651" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2XKoA6b-OYa9uMYJX67d4VworqkMuuziXyNRl0iSGHX2ZsXtB_ENsWgGaYJFgx9IT0a0_2XnuiIehEKVUCJB6sr3URfaxhs6Nq-fqG-onN0kp9Mq47D3XXJkmyKzoCjJXFzDy3kaQ6U/s400/Whitehall_OS_OpenData_map.png" width="323" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The modern layout of Whitehall (Ordnance Survey, image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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At the Northern end of Whitehall stood Charing Cross, built between 1291 and 1294 to commemorate the funeral procession of Eleanor of Castille, Edward I's Queen. This was destroyed as an "idolatrous" symbol during the era of Cromwell's Commonwealth (the copy that now stands outside Charing Cross Station in The Strand was built during the Nineteenth Century). An equestrian statue of Charles I was erected, in its place, in 1675, and has stood there ever since.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ow1qDoaNe92P28fIw2WGA2bb7G3TsCGG1KshPJXD9tXrscRvWZTl0ZEBz4WSPVg2otVFHdvoGBG5JbOHsNTMZLYsgWaeLQt0HLtx7Cp069xta1weBKxXEsXt1FPy_E1FaY2_jq3UEZg/s1600/Charing+Cross+Rocque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="805" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ow1qDoaNe92P28fIw2WGA2bb7G3TsCGG1KshPJXD9tXrscRvWZTl0ZEBz4WSPVg2otVFHdvoGBG5JbOHsNTMZLYsgWaeLQt0HLtx7Cp069xta1weBKxXEsXt1FPy_E1FaY2_jq3UEZg/s400/Charing+Cross+Rocque.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charing Cross, from John Rocque's map of 1746 (image is in the Public Domain). Northumberland House was the London residence of the Percy family, Dukes of Northumberland. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RQ9SinG4Zp-obTPyFKE9xYmI-n5gs4nU7AdEylZ4kWBudsg8BGrf7ynQu0AlDJyx8IMjuQL_24LLKrdy7ft2TOtFNC-vIyDvwgGZd_hypVvpir2wSxdL8CGGQO2IWIq6Aq4BACPfH3g/s1600/Charing+Cross+Canaletto.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="1200" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RQ9SinG4Zp-obTPyFKE9xYmI-n5gs4nU7AdEylZ4kWBudsg8BGrf7ynQu0AlDJyx8IMjuQL_24LLKrdy7ft2TOtFNC-vIyDvwgGZd_hypVvpir2wSxdL8CGGQO2IWIq6Aq4BACPfH3g/s400/Charing+Cross+Canaletto.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charing Cross and Northumberland House, by Canaletto, 1752 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_vhrAobDJnEuCUpRE23RFSMR8R3ZQVpOrFUAtp-CLfJ8N_I-115ElMbFa1_MtEwMyz5Zz1ZoY93Y1dV33dBQPnAsEyuGOFIPfKM-KOA5hg3intv_cwAqwuyPZ4u3zN3fNwuUlrMvgNk/s1600/Pillory_Charing_Cross_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="855" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_vhrAobDJnEuCUpRE23RFSMR8R3ZQVpOrFUAtp-CLfJ8N_I-115ElMbFa1_MtEwMyz5Zz1ZoY93Y1dV33dBQPnAsEyuGOFIPfKM-KOA5hg3intv_cwAqwuyPZ4u3zN3fNwuUlrMvgNk/s400/Pillory_Charing_Cross_edited.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pillory at Charing Cross, by Thomas Rowlandson & Augustus Charles Pugin, 1809 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Trafalgar Square as we know it today was laid out between 1842 and 1843, the present National Gallery standing on the site of a succession of royal stables, the earliest of which seems to have been built in the Thirteenth Century, to house the King's falcons, as well as his horses. Trafalgar Square is, in a very real sense, the symbolic heart of London, a venue for both public celebrations and political protests.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjck1E98txqU8MrNp2JWrRJJQvW1cab8G2s_pkSCe0zs3wMtrwGwnkiXP2FvyKvNIDM7tpN3B8bekQixFe09uMte0ZX8ZRBm1WWYgtF-hyfC83W_rz_XeCFWZWrXcEKfZDkRh5AHUfR99A/s1600/Royal_Stables_in_the_Mews%252C_Charing_Cross._Etching_by_Cook%252C_1793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="408" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjck1E98txqU8MrNp2JWrRJJQvW1cab8G2s_pkSCe0zs3wMtrwGwnkiXP2FvyKvNIDM7tpN3B8bekQixFe09uMte0ZX8ZRBm1WWYgtF-hyfC83W_rz_XeCFWZWrXcEKfZDkRh5AHUfR99A/s400/Royal_Stables_in_the_Mews%252C_Charing_Cross._Etching_by_Cook%252C_1793.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Royal Stables at Charing Cross, designed by William Kent, and completed in 1793 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8vLqv4V7-eV_RegfRV6a7iIxp5B5BaJXcSQgp7pKLfQP90zKPr9A1LGpNGjaUo1xb34FnXTauh-UtGGJ5H5t6hM2hG-YDMpDogEzYcLEWrRGBchLusngcBuNWXW_3_Xv8D9PhyphenhyphenKl9z4/s1600/Trafalgar+Square+Pollard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="830" data-original-width="1200" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8vLqv4V7-eV_RegfRV6a7iIxp5B5BaJXcSQgp7pKLfQP90zKPr9A1LGpNGjaUo1xb34FnXTauh-UtGGJ5H5t6hM2hG-YDMpDogEzYcLEWrRGBchLusngcBuNWXW_3_Xv8D9PhyphenhyphenKl9z4/s400/Trafalgar+Square+Pollard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trafalgar Square before the building of Nelson's Column, by James Pollard, c 1839. Berger Collection, Denver, Colorado (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjgcGezVWO64e6EAPg9n_A_ujbsCAJg_8_-jLM9xDtxeQOwwQsdNVTk-9SNVSYbLCtZKIQTxceS1bh3aF2pmALLuzJYL_qv54GYerwsEtpCn1SkA4iu1xuYwKzrstFSpmOTg49IN_wDU/s1600/Bird_Eye_Pictures_of_Trafalgar_Square_1909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="968" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjgcGezVWO64e6EAPg9n_A_ujbsCAJg_8_-jLM9xDtxeQOwwQsdNVTk-9SNVSYbLCtZKIQTxceS1bh3aF2pmALLuzJYL_qv54GYerwsEtpCn1SkA4iu1xuYwKzrstFSpmOTg49IN_wDU/s400/Bird_Eye_Pictures_of_Trafalgar_Square_1909.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trafalgar Square taken by Sir Norman Lockyer from a helium balloon, 1909 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-26389494600310769442018-11-12T02:08:00.001-08:002018-11-12T22:40:42.624-08:00The Story of London in 50 Novels: 12 - "The Quality of Mercy," by Barry Unsworth Eighteenth Century London was the hub of a continually expanding network of global contacts. At its wharves and quays, ships arrived bearing lacquer-ware, porcelain, and tea from China; cotton fabrics from India; tobacco from North America; chocolate from Mexico; coffee and spices from Indonesia; and sugar from the Caribbean; smaller ships brought coal from the north-eastern ports of England, which was increasingly burned as a fuel in London, in preference to wood, the nation's forests having been depleted for the building of ships. The new commercial system was underpinned by innovations in banking, insurance, and corporate governance; but it was also underpinned by something more tangible, yet less visible to most Londoners: the trade in human beings.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaj1zOii4h8WQJrGdehpHBku5EV_i_CW6zKBCu0atol0Qkgi5irMHqgmz-XIKbzu3YIABkKcoT0dOhL13o1n4JUj09HXrcsPAGwp1snbzKj0A40MerA86Wmu8U_7MA-nDhtpLLdBv6yA/s1600/Coal+Trade+C18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaj1zOii4h8WQJrGdehpHBku5EV_i_CW6zKBCu0atol0Qkgi5irMHqgmz-XIKbzu3YIABkKcoT0dOhL13o1n4JUj09HXrcsPAGwp1snbzKj0A40MerA86Wmu8U_7MA-nDhtpLLdBv6yA/s1600/Coal+Trade+C18.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coal merchant's advertisement (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtkIolT4dzku3LGTmpNLiddTmgAnTAuVdPmyKUMemhdsKJtcMtZFrqzXm5Shyphenhyphen_b0CAhb1hzDZkr-F2p-E5mbGTSyJeqigXtEFzGcBbiQyv1qMjJ36BUtuEYRlaZpELCPCMD2R1BBjU5k/s1600/Pool+of+London+C18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="800" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtkIolT4dzku3LGTmpNLiddTmgAnTAuVdPmyKUMemhdsKJtcMtZFrqzXm5Shyphenhyphen_b0CAhb1hzDZkr-F2p-E5mbGTSyJeqigXtEFzGcBbiQyv1qMjJ36BUtuEYRlaZpELCPCMD2R1BBjU5k/s400/Pool+of+London+C18.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pool of London, by John Wilson Carmichael (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_JtFDNBeQkrSes_fvbF4bR735mrDy0-YxctVD4K8pCI2Jxy3-vFTmPjY3zzN9U48lqQQB5pyalO-N_Nf1ZV6IQpBHhdcafyUa6zYUPN8ebTjh4ajYp7QrvI5AtVCvlRxcakzjIWz9yE/s1600/Coffee+house+C18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="196" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_JtFDNBeQkrSes_fvbF4bR735mrDy0-YxctVD4K8pCI2Jxy3-vFTmPjY3zzN9U48lqQQB5pyalO-N_Nf1ZV6IQpBHhdcafyUa6zYUPN8ebTjh4ajYp7QrvI5AtVCvlRxcakzjIWz9yE/s400/Coffee+house+C18.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Advertisement for a coffee house in London (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Almost every spoonful of sugar consumed in London, and every tot of rum carried on the ships for the benefit of their crew-members, had been produced on plantations in colonies such as Jamaica or Barbados, on the basis of slave-labour. The slaves were Africans, who had been shipped to the Caribbean, often on British ships, with British captains; they were the property of British plantation owners; yet very few of them ever came to Britain itself. Although tens of thousands of ordinary Britons owned shares in companies that formed part of the supply chain, slavery itself was largely out of sight and out of mind.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0lOPZ2FadHCkmTc_fu3TOsFSOQ_o8XtYzlJc4jJF3o1Xj9VgavkaD2106Ed4Qa_6u-rlF5fcdm385y9PoPWbdZik1FZAggMuXfhgESwMqkDtU1Y3_iuTmqcCWOcwRDsSDa-XZMJvp-0/s1600/Slave_Dance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="801" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0lOPZ2FadHCkmTc_fu3TOsFSOQ_o8XtYzlJc4jJF3o1Xj9VgavkaD2106Ed4Qa_6u-rlF5fcdm385y9PoPWbdZik1FZAggMuXfhgESwMqkDtU1Y3_iuTmqcCWOcwRDsSDa-XZMJvp-0/s400/Slave_Dance.jpg" width="356" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Slave Dance," by Dirk Valkenburg, Dutch Brazil (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rqsTZY24g0EaeQuo9ASLD596WuB1uPWSb2kccNqYILbWf_wriv1SiEShgqnL4RG07pNTCkx_25Qv1-_Ljbr9vHgSGfnOnw_C1fYDyRX3Cl9Grp_8miHOUkrHX84VL9XDeUKVX4c1CSY/s1600/May-Morning-by-John-Collet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1294" data-original-width="1600" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rqsTZY24g0EaeQuo9ASLD596WuB1uPWSb2kccNqYILbWf_wriv1SiEShgqnL4RG07pNTCkx_25Qv1-_Ljbr9vHgSGfnOnw_C1fYDyRX3Cl9Grp_8miHOUkrHX84VL9XDeUKVX4c1CSY/s400/May-Morning-by-John-Collet.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May Morning," by John Collet, 1770: Museum of London (image is in the Public Domain). A black servant joins the celebrations: under English law, he would not have been a slave.</td></tr>
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From the mid-Eighteenth Century, movements emerged in Europe, committed to the abolition of slavery. Within Britain, these campaigns were often led by Evangelical Christians, and by religious dissenters, including Quakers and, later, Methodists. In 1777, a key ruling at the Old Bailey determined that a fugitive slave who had arrived in England, was a free man, since English law included no provision for the institution of slavery, and that, in the words of Lord Justice Mansfield, "[slavery] <i>is so odious that nothing can be suffered to support it, but positive law</i>" (in other words, an Act of Parliament, which never actually came to pass).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9sas1CJmgUahrUEFyi8MdhoFMhCvyeu2T-TrGvWxXIprZWvGm7abGPuY8faM3JcPVxwTw_5bhcTdgxxpl8PIWQhJpqvUAJqE9KFY0d0mXD2e4F0q9kmZgWrgbAj_JKMmFIKIYXlJmQo/s1600/Dido_Elizabeth_Belle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="858" data-original-width="1000" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9sas1CJmgUahrUEFyi8MdhoFMhCvyeu2T-TrGvWxXIprZWvGm7abGPuY8faM3JcPVxwTw_5bhcTdgxxpl8PIWQhJpqvUAJqE9KFY0d0mXD2e4F0q9kmZgWrgbAj_JKMmFIKIYXlJmQo/s320/Dido_Elizabeth_Belle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portrait of Lord Mansfield's nieces, Dido Elizabeth Belle and Lady Elizabeth Lindsay, Scone Palace, Scotland, 1778 (image is in the Public Domain). Dido was the daughter of a slave mother and a planter father, and lived as a member of Lord Mansfield's household.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1yTUaL3rEO3X9R_38t3cPD_MJvCUICOCj71ODfNXVQp8XOhQ4nzF1R4JYmVBlIGQ1f-8JI3ug14ngS-8iLgcpgLBSv5MMKDbM6_5JrlucjCPKN8MhDbLWU3TR1V0sXleccXSp9wtjkI/s1600/Wedgwood+slavery+medalion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1yTUaL3rEO3X9R_38t3cPD_MJvCUICOCj71ODfNXVQp8XOhQ4nzF1R4JYmVBlIGQ1f-8JI3ug14ngS-8iLgcpgLBSv5MMKDbM6_5JrlucjCPKN8MhDbLWU3TR1V0sXleccXSp9wtjkI/s320/Wedgwood+slavery+medalion.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Design for an Abolitionist medallion, by Josiah Wedgwood, 1795 (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBOLXSoIEpMhXtirVY5Vzkco0x3w4oGmSaQeN26aFTydMY5h-fcOFVGxvrnOSTYMmTrY3eE5Eic6TKymYaL3qno6Ww1UKVrK0iaoPdrA4Z87OVQZXRvUeKlUlWGCsRb5baikUaPoU6Kg/s1600/IgnatiusSanchobook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="1249" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBOLXSoIEpMhXtirVY5Vzkco0x3w4oGmSaQeN26aFTydMY5h-fcOFVGxvrnOSTYMmTrY3eE5Eic6TKymYaL3qno6Ww1UKVrK0iaoPdrA4Z87OVQZXRvUeKlUlWGCsRb5baikUaPoU6Kg/s400/IgnatiusSanchobook.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first book published by an African author in English, 1782 (image is in the Public Domain). Direct testimony by individuals with first-hand experience of slavery played an important part in the Abolitionist movement. </td></tr>
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With so many vested interests, however, the process of abolition was a slow and painful one. Slavery was formally abolished by the newly created French Republic in 1794, but this was revoked by Napoleon Bonaparte in 1802. In England, William Wilberforce's act of 1807 outlawed the Transatlantic Slave Trade, but British plantation owners continued to make use of slave labour until 1833.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4L4TjxCU9uEfeLX6DeT3bBSqy0qoMLc2BRhEpx1b_Avn-mWGAJ-QjmniMSKg7oXZ-djlTWQjnrMpOjy32t2CDIXb5l1L07sSVsDNU2LEmHP6eL-Pq5RuQXE_ZehMkN50-W99GnyscDE/s1600/Moreau+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1314" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4L4TjxCU9uEfeLX6DeT3bBSqy0qoMLc2BRhEpx1b_Avn-mWGAJ-QjmniMSKg7oXZ-djlTWQjnrMpOjy32t2CDIXb5l1L07sSVsDNU2LEmHP6eL-Pq5RuQXE_ZehMkN50-W99GnyscDE/s400/Moreau+2.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Illustration from Voltaire's "Candide" (widely read across Europe). His protagonist meets a maimed slave in Surinam: "it is at this price that you eat sugar in Europe," the caption reads. Image: Jean-Michel Moreau, 1787 ((image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Barry Unsworth's novel, <i>The Quality of Mercy</i>, is based around an imagined conflict (though closely based on historical circumstances), between a ship-owner, Erasmus Kemp, whose slave-ship has been taken over by its crew,and run aground in Florida; and the abolitionist, Frederick Ashton, who accuses Kemp of insurance fraud (in claiming for the value of slaves allegedly thrown overboard on the orders of the Captain), and seeks to demonstrate, in the courts, that, as human beings, the slaves had never been Ashton's lawful property. The situation is complicated by a love-interest between Kemp and Ashton's sister; and by the position of Sullivan, the ship's Irish fiddler, one of the few men who might actually know what happened on the ship, and who is, unbeknown to Kemp or Ashton, making his way on foot to a mining community in County Durham, with a message for the family of a murdered ship-mate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8AInYNHP57HGLFutg7Gmq9Fr5G5d7PiSmuVHss1xUZ8fH4FxJN4eoHdVxju1inS6Z_RjstHY8lHVdkmHXTJxaES8PuYvuyCIlZSJxgfQOR8j8Sr_XSB4dwr59j7zMrbE74Jo3Rcu16A/s1600/The+Quality+of+Mercy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="292" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8AInYNHP57HGLFutg7Gmq9Fr5G5d7PiSmuVHss1xUZ8fH4FxJN4eoHdVxju1inS6Z_RjstHY8lHVdkmHXTJxaES8PuYvuyCIlZSJxgfQOR8j8Sr_XSB4dwr59j7zMrbE74Jo3Rcu16A/s320/The+Quality+of+Mercy.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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"<i>On finding himself thus accidentally free, Sullivan's only thought was to get as far as he could from Newgate prison while it was still dark. Fiddle and bow slung over his shoulders, he set off northwards, keeping the river at his back. In Holborn he lost an hour, wandering in a maze of courts. Then an old washer-woman, waiting outside a door in the first light of day, set him right for Gray's Inn Lane and the northern outskirts of the city ... An hour's walking brought him to the rural edges of London, among the market gardens and brick kilns north of Gray's Inn Road ... At a junction of lanes here was a huddle of houses and a small inn. He was hungry but he did not dare to stop. One way led to Watford the other to St Albans. He took a shilling from his new purse and tossed it. It came down heads. St Albans then.</i>"<br />
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<i>"'I had hoped the business might be settled privately between us,' Van Dillen said. 'The outcome must be doubtful in law and if we go to the extent of a hearing there are costs to be thought of. Why should we fatten the lawyers, Mr Kemp?' He was not finding the interview easy. He was physically uncomfortable, for one thing; the seat of his chair was too small for a man of his bulk, and the weather was unseasonably hot. The room had only one window, and the morning sun, strong despite the clogging air of London, slanted through it and lay directly on him. He felt overheated in his bob-wig and broadcloth suit ... He felt an itch on the side of his neck, some insect crawling there ... the windless days and early heat had produced a plague of small black beetles that flew about blindly, getting tangled in wigs and snared in the corner of eyes, copulating and dying, leaving a scurf of corpses ... 'What can be predicted are the legal costs,' Van Dillen said. 'My good sir, the facts are not in dispute, at least as regards the central fact of the Negroes being cast overboard and the necessity thereof.' 'It is precisely the necessity of it that the insurers will dispute if it comes before a court.</i>"<i><br /></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvewoqa115Pz44NwOGwDHpPjZMON5v4r2W0rwLYAzRHj9nH5HVOUUoxzWM7sJcwZXTpTqRhA4ieGnfdGSMSWnWpDfDK7DGWSy7SXsvdlcHFDRKFNzuslmaNsxUFNhwC6MvL6UZYQNtoT8/s1600/Turner+slavers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvewoqa115Pz44NwOGwDHpPjZMON5v4r2W0rwLYAzRHj9nH5HVOUUoxzWM7sJcwZXTpTqRhA4ieGnfdGSMSWnWpDfDK7DGWSy7SXsvdlcHFDRKFNzuslmaNsxUFNhwC6MvL6UZYQNtoT8/s400/Turner+slavers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Slavers throwing overboard the dead and dying," by J.M.W. Turner, 1840, Museum of Fine Art, Boston, 1840 (image is in the Public Domain). Slavery was already illegal in British territories at this time, but Turner was campaigning for its global abolition.</td></tr>
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"<i>The insurance claim on eighty-five African slaves, cast overboard while still alive from the deck of the 'Liverpool Merchant' on grounds of lawful jettison, was heard at the Guildhall, Justice Blundell presiding. In contrast to the long course of postponements and delays that preceded it, the hearing itself was brief, occupying no more than three hours of the court's time. The insurers were represented by an elderly lawyer named Price, who had a large experience of such cases. Kemp's lawyer, Pike, had wished to hold his fire for the criminal trial at the Old Bailey, which was due to be held at a date not yet specified; he had recommended a young barrister named Waters to represent the ship's owner.</i>"<i> </i><br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-21504872813543359152018-10-14T02:51:00.000-07:002018-10-14T02:51:48.494-07:00The Story of London in 50 Novels: 11 - "The Fatal Tree," by Jake ArnottThe London that endured the <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-story-of-london-in-50-novels-10.html">Great Plague</a> of 1665 was largely swept away, the following year, by the Great Fire of London. Although blamed, at the time, on foreign or Catholic <i>agents provocateurs</i>, the fire was, in fact, an accident; the inevitable consequence of the growth of a city of timber-framed buildings with thatched roofs. The new city that sprung up in its place was built, largely, of brick, stone, and tile, and had, as its centre-piece, Sir Christopher Wren's bold new design for Saint Paul's Cathedral, as controversial a piece of architecture in its time as anything built by Norman Foster, Richard Rogers, or Renzo Piano in our own times. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0N3Bc71SUvT1-jwqXb5tYJKHo-s9dbmDbFN_qUJRhFmsh6KSRnMPSLvLcxYIS8vZ38rjhlbjBF4WF0MSecwPCczIJdM6xSczH3FHPPsnMzx6Ch8971mn3sjphWSzPvmNGUkyfGuKIens/s1600/London+1751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="500" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0N3Bc71SUvT1-jwqXb5tYJKHo-s9dbmDbFN_qUJRhFmsh6KSRnMPSLvLcxYIS8vZ38rjhlbjBF4WF0MSecwPCczIJdM6xSczH3FHPPsnMzx6Ch8971mn3sjphWSzPvmNGUkyfGuKIens/s400/London+1751.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">London in 1751, by Thomas Bowles (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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London was still growing, its population swelling from an estimated 200 thousand in 1600; to 600 thousand in 1700; and 959 thousand by 1801; an increase fueled mainly by migration from the British countryside. Members of the aristocracy were, increasingly, spending part of the year "in town," attracted by a "social season" that included performances of Shakespearean plays and Italian opera; and the life of the coffee-house, which combined business with pleasure. Many poorer people were attracted to the city by the new opportunities in domestic service and the retail trade, but social mobility operated in both directions, downwards, as well as upwards: a servant, apprentice, or shop-worker who lost his or her position (including women who became pregnant, who were almost invariably dismissed) had few options open to them apart from prostitution or crime.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-gtNgYDLaa_efj69ZYeMXD4mA7TWRKAak3LRRs9zzEIjDdWtpuoLPYXZ7dvrS4QcVUsdU4nHVGMWiBxCAeqGmb4rrRpmEy0nDL3mUEinTOC_jP1Tmhr2ZStBCiHB7FUzHKpX0B9wAds/s1600/London+Rocque+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="1280" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-gtNgYDLaa_efj69ZYeMXD4mA7TWRKAak3LRRs9zzEIjDdWtpuoLPYXZ7dvrS4QcVUsdU4nHVGMWiBxCAeqGmb4rrRpmEy0nDL3mUEinTOC_jP1Tmhr2ZStBCiHB7FUzHKpX0B9wAds/s400/London+Rocque+map.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Roque's map of London, 1741-45 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSLnAf0awzGKQjnXe3m1ckN7UWp5jqll2fjoJG8fQrKq8aArrJp7qJROzwRpaQ4TDHjxW3j6H0CQ8ichiTJea6UUo8k6mt9FbsZs1c7rOn-XOdBl-6xyQQ-6gZWpB3LVk6-DhJ4VkEIQ/s1600/Hogarth+Rake.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="810" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSLnAf0awzGKQjnXe3m1ckN7UWp5jqll2fjoJG8fQrKq8aArrJp7qJROzwRpaQ4TDHjxW3j6H0CQ8ichiTJea6UUo8k6mt9FbsZs1c7rOn-XOdBl-6xyQQ-6gZWpB3LVk6-DhJ4VkEIQ/s400/Hogarth+Rake.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Rake at the Rose Tavern," by William Hogarth, Sir John Soane's Museum. The anti-hero of the series (<i>The Rake's Progress</i>), Tom Rakewell, is here being relieved of his watch by a prostitute.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMnzO7D_HYZItvB_y_lURqacb7Xa1JBzlbQ_fydNMIB86tU96NaozVedDtuSUcR_UOQxqmXi8IWWlMSA66_3Cs6WWwfNo5SkVW1Y_7jHYvq37KL9BlFG2r005FzAjSo6HfLWTClXgMmk/s1600/Hogarth+Rake+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="600" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMnzO7D_HYZItvB_y_lURqacb7Xa1JBzlbQ_fydNMIB86tU96NaozVedDtuSUcR_UOQxqmXi8IWWlMSA66_3Cs6WWwfNo5SkVW1Y_7jHYvq37KL9BlFG2r005FzAjSo6HfLWTClXgMmk/s400/Hogarth+Rake+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Rake in Prison," by William Hogarth, Sir John Soane's Museum.</td></tr>
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In a city without a Police force, the fear of crime was real, and ever-present, and the authorities responded with harsher and harsher penalties. In 1688, there were fifty offences listed as being punishable by death; by 1776, there were almost two hundred; by 1799, two hundred and twenty. Prostitutes and pickpockets feared both the cells of Newgate Prison, and the "triple-tree" of the Tyburn gallows, where Marble Arch stands today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkvYsPWOuw6qcE7SOFYdNTkX4DDfSpKJOC4qj3Ibm1etQ2f0RC3e8oFxMbWxwdR1EhHSOm5k6Vaa6X8afUrZVbsAFf5FAcukh9LHbHS84M2LvNL7rBigevATEkynGvT8rKsnmeFjb0yI/s1600/Newgate+prison+1780+plan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="729" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkvYsPWOuw6qcE7SOFYdNTkX4DDfSpKJOC4qj3Ibm1etQ2f0RC3e8oFxMbWxwdR1EhHSOm5k6Vaa6X8afUrZVbsAFf5FAcukh9LHbHS84M2LvNL7rBigevATEkynGvT8rKsnmeFjb0yI/s400/Newgate+prison+1780+plan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newgate Prison, 1780 plan by the architect, Charles Dance.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLfhCDXy3xNXWtub-38tr_eD727N1j-kUg4cHfg-_6nXFlYznpdq69frAhST3i76jLIcqeVjg-tLkmsGqkHTI8spCFfg8bCHCRmPLwUj0qzVyI06ZITItuSJW-smQsq08eLRoYq6OrH4/s1600/Newgate_Prison%252C_Inner_Court%252C_18th_century._Wellcome_L0001330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLfhCDXy3xNXWtub-38tr_eD727N1j-kUg4cHfg-_6nXFlYznpdq69frAhST3i76jLIcqeVjg-tLkmsGqkHTI8spCFfg8bCHCRmPLwUj0qzVyI06ZITItuSJW-smQsq08eLRoYq6OrH4/s400/Newgate_Prison%252C_Inner_Court%252C_18th_century._Wellcome_L0001330.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Inner Court of Newgate Prison in the 18th Century (image is in the Pubic Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9pEuBu6w_yGBfQWnUxuieo9ny3KWI0GDfliTfbqr9bKkN-yyXKfxZiyW7yfu0fFvRCLjslqjZGLAMCQU5ocjScomtIJpG_W4BomZW9JuY_SecV7rO-a_KTZG9HKqWyMi3APmiCEtwAY/s1600/newgate-prison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="657" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9pEuBu6w_yGBfQWnUxuieo9ny3KWI0GDfliTfbqr9bKkN-yyXKfxZiyW7yfu0fFvRCLjslqjZGLAMCQU5ocjScomtIJpG_W4BomZW9JuY_SecV7rO-a_KTZG9HKqWyMi3APmiCEtwAY/s400/newgate-prison.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newgate Prison in 1902, prior to its demolition (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-7M2Z0ipE0RUg6C8ym5p9azBu0CFIwzJrCxn4jui6VI4lZPNy8HhvKVD7pwOYFtM85donWHZLl8Lzv056mnxKoLPTuqJPnT4FMiBMkoaTSHqEdZXMeOdF-QOCf024IZG4EUDIvvBbFM/s1600/Newgate+Prison+1902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1024" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-7M2Z0ipE0RUg6C8ym5p9azBu0CFIwzJrCxn4jui6VI4lZPNy8HhvKVD7pwOYFtM85donWHZLl8Lzv056mnxKoLPTuqJPnT4FMiBMkoaTSHqEdZXMeOdF-QOCf024IZG4EUDIvvBbFM/s400/Newgate+Prison+1902.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newgate Prison in 1902.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxCDwFJpUnZ3zrw13QuVu6R5Odu1FlG_spHZwu45ixx5lu-F7mewgD74Miszcw4v4QNigKBLFaLgz6UgOSEt259qNx4Q8lTcLxwJsfxVwvIHIsugoFwptyw1S65BbiS42gmbVruKto0w/s1600/Tyburn_tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="341" data-original-width="556" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxCDwFJpUnZ3zrw13QuVu6R5Odu1FlG_spHZwu45ixx5lu-F7mewgD74Miszcw4v4QNigKBLFaLgz6UgOSEt259qNx4Q8lTcLxwJsfxVwvIHIsugoFwptyw1S65BbiS42gmbVruKto0w/s400/Tyburn_tree.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tyburn in 1680, National Archives WORK 16/376 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The City authorities employed "Under-Marshals" to keep law and order, and to apprehend & prosecute criminals, but, heavily dependent on testimonies from within the criminal community, the opportunities for, and temptations of, corruption were manifest and manifold. The most notorious example was the self-styled "Thief-Taker General," Jonathan Wild, who was himself hanged at Tyburn in May, 1725.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0nupB0Hwt50-62cUg-_m6jS8IyQe110ID11VYJZWfxKtuT6x170AAV6QaH7GEhURgZ2uf0yEyVr5eBsdsUsqjv1MdFIVzvtkR1I8sNZi2Kprb4IUG-UKltF3wXbY0jT2BkK2PPIieV4/s1600/Ticket_to_the_hanging_of_Jonathan_Wild.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1255" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0nupB0Hwt50-62cUg-_m6jS8IyQe110ID11VYJZWfxKtuT6x170AAV6QaH7GEhURgZ2uf0yEyVr5eBsdsUsqjv1MdFIVzvtkR1I8sNZi2Kprb4IUG-UKltF3wXbY0jT2BkK2PPIieV4/s400/Ticket_to_the_hanging_of_Jonathan_Wild.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ticket for the public execution of Jonathan Wild (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prison scene from John Gay's <i>The Beggar's Opera</i> (1728), which satirises both the legal and political situations of the day, by William Hogarth (1728), Tate Britain (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6VEkbU-HJT3SEEPabPRBbHgJynSxdQsohDYXKTf2_ELLyoHYsWD9ZmwPu1ZTEr9MIGi46QTfPUHID6wgf70zIA8xYjGEZGv3M_nOCJdaGORK_-npGflWlrlAiOCtHXkclnaJ66ececs/s1600/The+Fatal+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6VEkbU-HJT3SEEPabPRBbHgJynSxdQsohDYXKTf2_ELLyoHYsWD9ZmwPu1ZTEr9MIGi46QTfPUHID6wgf70zIA8xYjGEZGv3M_nOCJdaGORK_-npGflWlrlAiOCtHXkclnaJ66ececs/s320/The+Fatal+Tree.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
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Jake Arnotts novel, <i>The Fatal Tree</i>, follows the criminal careers of Elizabeth Lyon ("Edgworth Bess"), and her lover, the burglar, Jack Sheppard. These were real people (Sheppard was hanged in 1724; Lyon was transported to Maryland), and Arnott has made extensive use of the records of trials at the Old Bailey: his Bess narrates her own story, using the "Canting" patois known to have been used by prostitutes and criminals in Eighteenth Century London), which is interspersed with the commentary of William Archer, a fictional journalist (addressed to his editor) with personal and criminal secrets of his own.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDHXvcygTFfUNJhpfC9TWzjWMIzCMDTKWqlZTQXZucB0uTmNrvt0ZgtDnkA8BUt6XkHgRAfajT4CFS0XwaZ3rUVej16WDajgYqAk2BX5ORieYwMD7xnJi0QBvJh-8c_rSiYuMz3a6ZN4/s1600/Jack_Sheppard_-_Thornhill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="621" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDHXvcygTFfUNJhpfC9TWzjWMIzCMDTKWqlZTQXZucB0uTmNrvt0ZgtDnkA8BUt6XkHgRAfajT4CFS0XwaZ3rUVej16WDajgYqAk2BX5ORieYwMD7xnJi0QBvJh-8c_rSiYuMz3a6ZN4/s320/Jack_Sheppard_-_Thornhill.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack Sheppard, by James Thornhill, 1724 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Elizabeth Lyon:<br />
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"<i>I was born in the small town of Edgworth, some ten miles north of London, the year Queen Anne came to the throne.If any seek significance as to why the place of my birth was later to provide my notorious alias, they might note that the old Roman road from thee makes one straight line to London, without a single turn or bend in it, and ends directly where Tyburn now stands. So this as my swift journey from innocence and, in truth, I was headed for the gallows of that wicked city too soon and far too young ... ".</i><br />
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"<i>Arriving in London I felt a fierce assault on all my senses: the bewildering parade of people and carriages in the streets, the mad bustle of business, the shriek and clatter of its traffic. And the stench! Scattered heaps of filth, dead fish and offal, dung everywhere. Ragged beggars clamoured at every corner. I held my little bundle close and made to walk in a manner that might show I knew my way. But I was hopelessly lost.</i>"<br />
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"<i>It was dark as we left the coffee-house, and the lamps of the link-boys glowed here and there, marking out a constellation across the cobbled piazza. One of the theatres had just emptied its crowd, an now a boisterous audience set forth to make its own drama. We passed the column with its sundials and gilded sphere. On its steps women sat selling hot milk and barley broth. I was led up a side-street to a quiet and respectable-looking terrace. 'Welcome to our house of civil reception,' said Punk Alice, as she ushered me up some steps to the front door. As we entered, a surly footman roused himself from a chair in the hallway. 'Fetch Mother,' Alice snapped at him, and he skulked off to some back-parlour.</i>"<br />
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William Archer:<br />
<i><br /></i>
"<i>Dear Applebee, Thank you for the ten guineas received on account and your comments on the text. You rightly protest that many will complain of the possible corrupting influence of this story, that Bess rather flaunts her bodily crimes and pleads little for the mercy of her soul. But you know as well as any that this might be her final whoring and could well be a draw to the public. From a shadow-world a shadow-gospel is rendered: the flesh made word where only the intoxication of sin can be offered as mitigation. And though I'm sure that the idle reader may appreciate this, it is to be hoped that when her case comes up before the next sessions she can deliver a better defence than that. But, then, you know the old jest about a jade who plied her trade by the Temple: that if she had as much law in her head as she had in her tail, she would be one of the ablest counsels in England.</i>"<i> </i><br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
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Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-15517091617551869662018-09-23T05:30:00.000-07:002018-10-28T01:19:32.443-07:00The Streets of Old Westminster: From Thorney Island to Parliament SquareA visitor to London, exploring the City of Westminster, and walking northward along <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-streets-of-old-westminster-millbank.html">Millbank</a> from Vauxhall Bridge towards Parliament Square, crosses an invisible line, somewhere between Millbank Tower (the tallest building along the route) and Thames House (the headquarters of the domestic security service, MI5), marking the southern edge of Thorney Island. Thorney island was an <i>eyot</i> or <i>ait:</i> an island formed by the deposition of sediments, often at the confluence of two rivers, in this case the Thames and the Tyburn, the latter flowing south from Hampstead through what is now Saint James's Park (archaeologists from the Museum of London have recently been studying the course of the now largely invisible River Tyburn, and the results of their researches can be seen <a href="http://molarchaeology.maps.arcgis.com/apps/Cascade/index.html?appid=6b00daa1acac4df7a2fcde06104bac1a">here</a>).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlFSqdtxDjhkOg4moyJGkezNU8DyHExsNbzHENTHgpewdxhqSVTbLXgZ_FuYX3yKjHat2bV6hqUzZUoxEYwkTDsyfxHhg48cAxOCQoUSEGEgOA8vSl07HmovlHUNVJaCYq10jOHi6ld4/s1600/Thorney+Island.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="797" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlFSqdtxDjhkOg4moyJGkezNU8DyHExsNbzHENTHgpewdxhqSVTbLXgZ_FuYX3yKjHat2bV6hqUzZUoxEYwkTDsyfxHhg48cAxOCQoUSEGEgOA8vSl07HmovlHUNVJaCYq10jOHi6ld4/s400/Thorney+Island.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thorney Island. Photo: www.locallocalhistory.co.uk.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCZTrlw7rzgkA5XT5k9mbgnsME54PRf77Ne1WLQ19WUtt60KOp68GnxUVNTwdEe8cLeRK02InX34Vut3B_fAM_rZ-9JJmHPsG69m3LK2ftTfkFgzSv724NN8EQV9IkMIcAYdGRb7We8s/s1600/Bush+Eyot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCZTrlw7rzgkA5XT5k9mbgnsME54PRf77Ne1WLQ19WUtt60KOp68GnxUVNTwdEe8cLeRK02InX34Vut3B_fAM_rZ-9JJmHPsG69m3LK2ftTfkFgzSv724NN8EQV9IkMIcAYdGRb7We8s/s400/Bush+Eyot.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bush Eyot, on the River Thames in Berkshire, gives an impression of what Thorney Island might have looked like before it was built upon. Photo: Nancy (licensed under CCA). </td></tr>
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There are records of a church having been built on the island as early as the Seventh Century AD, by Mellitus, Bishop of London, an Italian Benedictine who came to England as part of the mission sent by Pope Gregory the Great, under Saint Augustine, to Christianise the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. The Palace of Westminster, Parliament Square, and Westminster Abbey all stand on what was once Thorney Island, chosen by the later Anglo-Saxon Kings as the royal centre of London, some distance to the west (and, importantly, upstream) from the bustling (and frequently noisy and malodorous) commercial port and City.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTwAv5j7JHkWNOG55ewxAJhcYj8Xf_IknD-_JNPa_qvhFypxu5yW-hx6unM5XvVLtarNx6OwTAHRzPApxPuO6rkZFbx77NBcw8YRDlgn0tHhxvD51LtZ9HiPEttuHuvxSE7GYRhH3f_k/s1600/Westminster_16C.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1048" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTwAv5j7JHkWNOG55ewxAJhcYj8Xf_IknD-_JNPa_qvhFypxu5yW-hx6unM5XvVLtarNx6OwTAHRzPApxPuO6rkZFbx77NBcw8YRDlgn0tHhxvD51LtZ9HiPEttuHuvxSE7GYRhH3f_k/s400/Westminster_16C.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conjectural reconstruction of Thorney Island in the reign of King Henry VIII, with the Palace of Westminster (foreground), Westminster Hall (centre), Westminster Abbey (top), and Saint Margaret's Church (to the right of the abbey). H.J. Brewer, 1884 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Almost opposite the Sovereign's Entrance to the House of Lords is the Jewel Tower, built in the Fourteenth Century, on the orders of King Edward III. As its name suggests, it was intended to house valuable items of Royal regalia. Its foundations, as revealed by archaeologists, testify to its original position on the shores of a tidal islet, prone to flooding.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAfv6hKWouBbJhCzPyoyYYxGr0MG8SbV1Y-V25StwbjEyEsmaKNp_yf8PlLnkQIGiHafRUI_1Qc3hAfbTy7RX-cr5pmC5MweFWLdcJBIjAn-wIOohd__PL0rB0OhTXxqtAixEZarG8Jc/s1600/Jewel_Tower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="504" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAfv6hKWouBbJhCzPyoyYYxGr0MG8SbV1Y-V25StwbjEyEsmaKNp_yf8PlLnkQIGiHafRUI_1Qc3hAfbTy7RX-cr5pmC5MweFWLdcJBIjAn-wIOohd__PL0rB0OhTXxqtAixEZarG8Jc/s400/Jewel_Tower.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Jewel Tower. Photo: lonpicman (licensed under GNU).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv55XBDO5FzZc6TxKj4EorDvr4_u31c1p2peJKYIZ0R1dP1thhvhU4X3Zk6LYZ1AfF3A8jHZ4gFdMlNNtu3OYm3wqRhA_iNOS76xtc9_myoVKaldze-93UOCbc20u02thvaDTtwtIZBrE/s1600/Jewel+Tower+foundations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv55XBDO5FzZc6TxKj4EorDvr4_u31c1p2peJKYIZ0R1dP1thhvhU4X3Zk6LYZ1AfF3A8jHZ4gFdMlNNtu3OYm3wqRhA_iNOS76xtc9_myoVKaldze-93UOCbc20u02thvaDTtwtIZBrE/s400/Jewel+Tower+foundations.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The foundations of the Jewel Tower, with oak sleepers resting on elm piles. Photo: Tracey and Doug (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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The Palace of Westminster that we see today was built by the Nineteenth Century architects, Charles Barry and <a href="https://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.com/2017/04/augustus-pugin-architect-of-victorian.html">Augustus Pugin</a>, following a disastrous fire in 1834. The first palace on the site, however, was built by King Edward the Confessor, in the Eleventh Century, its position on an island presumably providing an element of security. Among the earliest elements to survive is Westminster Hall, built in 1097, and then the largest hall in Europe. Its wooden roof was commissioned by King Richard II, in 1393, from the Royal Carpenter, Hugh Herland. The hall, which saw (among many others) the trials of Sir Thomas More, Guy Fawkes, and King Charles I; together with other parts of the Parliamentary Estate, can be <a href="https://www.parliament.uk/visiting/">visited by the public</a> when Parliament is in Recess.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfskY_eF9DRPJWKvRPh-0Q0qDH0iC1GBsaqbYIC_AtUEMxV8UueUb68-L2BKX1F8jO-QAPKzwBtqhyphenhyphenebK6Qk32DC_5wjTolx3s7YweEyuQgEAoVOBbmC18ZFrK9QpDxi1XCW13a1PMs_Q/s1600/Westminster+Abbey+from+London+Eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfskY_eF9DRPJWKvRPh-0Q0qDH0iC1GBsaqbYIC_AtUEMxV8UueUb68-L2BKX1F8jO-QAPKzwBtqhyphenhyphenebK6Qk32DC_5wjTolx3s7YweEyuQgEAoVOBbmC18ZFrK9QpDxi1XCW13a1PMs_Q/s400/Westminster+Abbey+from+London+Eye.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parliament Square from the London Eye, showing the Elizabeth Tower of the Palace of Westminster (left), Saint Margaret's Church (centre left), and Westminster Abbey (centre). Photo: Tebbetts (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzkQ8ibSxWoV-7v2bYDsZU2WifgGc4lWzG-mIqfrenRM6b5qtJhAIgsIdoXA8tHlw-E4qJjEi7QtDFMN5iXoEGW0LQOsrs6bYoEp7eK0NbpoErApHYuf2CQQZjKDlXM1pHJLUxGW0kDnc/s1600/Westminster_Hall_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="860" data-original-width="633" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzkQ8ibSxWoV-7v2bYDsZU2WifgGc4lWzG-mIqfrenRM6b5qtJhAIgsIdoXA8tHlw-E4qJjEi7QtDFMN5iXoEGW0LQOsrs6bYoEp7eK0NbpoErApHYuf2CQQZjKDlXM1pHJLUxGW0kDnc/s400/Westminster_Hall_edited.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Westminster Hall in 1808, by Thomas Rowlandson & Augustus Pugin (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i18LJUDDndbInKEW59hJYdAnS5c6AS4aSTeISF3FK3_pEZTqAfEFlYCbi4KzLMp9aFyt4rPTNpnS_HiK0tMA52upAteKr3wqSRcn1Rb3U1B3eTs7RXKKi3j-od8v-PdH5vVgb4v6GT8/s1600/Edward_the_Confessor_Penny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="602" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i18LJUDDndbInKEW59hJYdAnS5c6AS4aSTeISF3FK3_pEZTqAfEFlYCbi4KzLMp9aFyt4rPTNpnS_HiK0tMA52upAteKr3wqSRcn1Rb3U1B3eTs7RXKKi3j-od8v-PdH5vVgb4v6GT8/s320/Edward_the_Confessor_Penny.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Penny of King Edward the Confessor. Photo: Rasiel Suarez (licensed under CCA). </td></tr>
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Parliament Square, in its current form, was laid out in 1868. Around it are statues of prominent statesmen (Churchill, Palmerston, Disraeli, Sir George Canning, Sir Robert Peel, Abraham Lincoln, Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi), and, the most recent addition, the Womens' Suffrage campaigner, Millicent Fawcett.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCI-f1vFUi13q4CuYy8jWmV5_yTfPzkVnugFq99xRPlSsx-PAxWPUsGCmAUca_qh15WpcZwasDV7Q2Ws5i91MyVCFZAAZnhiboP92dtvoyvz9TQuC8keiSUSqrtEo-7ovEczOmXKXlGdw/s1600/Parliament_square_360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="1600" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCI-f1vFUi13q4CuYy8jWmV5_yTfPzkVnugFq99xRPlSsx-PAxWPUsGCmAUca_qh15WpcZwasDV7Q2Ws5i91MyVCFZAAZnhiboP92dtvoyvz9TQuC8keiSUSqrtEo-7ovEczOmXKXlGdw/s640/Parliament_square_360.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parliament Square. Photo: wjh31 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AbuEg-0jCAnvvb0ruo5-cDofr8NpBTZSRUtvf5Gy-mhfNyJOW66So0IY-Y-PJr1KsU_OULQDHRFXea873ev5J1WPCAOorqrjzM_Q1qorMzgOCeh9jPW1EeHp9S_DJFAf7G4_tRL6Jj8/s1600/Millicent+Fawcett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AbuEg-0jCAnvvb0ruo5-cDofr8NpBTZSRUtvf5Gy-mhfNyJOW66So0IY-Y-PJr1KsU_OULQDHRFXea873ev5J1WPCAOorqrjzM_Q1qorMzgOCeh9jPW1EeHp9S_DJFAf7G4_tRL6Jj8/s400/Millicent+Fawcett.jpg" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue of Millicent Fawcett, Parliament Square. Photo: Garry Knight (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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On the west side of Parliament Square is the Supreme Court, formerly Middlesex Guildhall, built between 1912 and 1913; and, on the south side, Saint Margaret's Church (established in the Twelfth Century but rebuilt in the Sixteenth and Eighteenth Centuries); and Westminster Abbey, the burial place of English monarchs throughout the Middle Ages and into the Early Modern period, and the scene of coronations from the time of William the Conqueror down to the present day.<br />
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At the same time as he was building the first Royal Palace on Thorney Island, King Edward the Confessor re-modeled the old Benedictine monastery, established by Bishop Mellitus, into a Royal Church, in which he, and his wife, Edith, would ultimately be buried. The number of monks increased dramatically over the following decades, with the "Abbey of Saint Peter" (its official title throughout the Middle Ages) becoming one of the great landowners of England by the time of the Domesday survey of 1087. Much of the City of Westminster is built on land that once belonged to the monks, supplying them with wool and leather for their clothing; meat, cheese, fruit, and vegetables to eat; and milk and ale to drink (the abbey had, by this stage, been taken within the pan-European Cluniac family, whose monks, often with close aristocratic and royal connections, ate and drank very well).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_j_GjR_8KS7I5WwR6vkUdSz7B_E1nTFWYoCk5Mat-z1ZgzIJ8Og9Oz50RosmOAI1e0tG2J_jYds90YXb6HWF6UInwkjDdbvBGxr7W5wXJg4n3-LM9iBcYe1hEKl3dHsXSp2CeAKi_O8/s1600/Bayeux+Tapestry+Westminster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="732" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_j_GjR_8KS7I5WwR6vkUdSz7B_E1nTFWYoCk5Mat-z1ZgzIJ8Og9Oz50RosmOAI1e0tG2J_jYds90YXb6HWF6UInwkjDdbvBGxr7W5wXJg4n3-LM9iBcYe1hEKl3dHsXSp2CeAKi_O8/s400/Bayeux+Tapestry+Westminster.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The body of King Edward the Confessor being carried to the Abbey of Saint Peter, from the Bayeux Tapestry (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Most of the abbey that we see today dates from the rebuilding that began under King Henry III, in 1245, although each successive generation, including our own, has made its mark on the fabric of the building.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDYcYbLxw6Y_9D_QFnnBdKAUoEyQCfWY-F7Aerdbcy9Uv5cP6sUODROtjB9DGuc36NtgHsIkUiXg0rRDmR6-nEfMUoNq3atTrjj7Jk9OVx2hRgl0KZM4kmqcjldAXFbmNAilfxOdzoIw/s1600/Westminster+Abbey+C20+Martyrs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="1200" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDYcYbLxw6Y_9D_QFnnBdKAUoEyQCfWY-F7Aerdbcy9Uv5cP6sUODROtjB9DGuc36NtgHsIkUiXg0rRDmR6-nEfMUoNq3atTrjj7Jk9OVx2hRgl0KZM4kmqcjldAXFbmNAilfxOdzoIw/s400/Westminster+Abbey+C20+Martyrs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Figures of Twentieth Century Martyrs, above the West Door of Westminster Abbey. Photo: Dnalor_01 (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-69398253013605591452018-09-02T05:41:00.000-07:002018-09-21T15:57:23.359-07:00The Streets of Old Westminster: Millbank - the North Bank of the ThamesA visitor to London, having explored the <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-streets-of-old-lambeth-waterloo.html">Borough of Lambeth</a>, and arrived back at <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-streets-of-old-lambeth-streatham.html">Vauxhall Bridge</a>, can cross the bridge into the western end of the City of Westminster. The street that now bears the name of Millbank (after a Medieval tidal mill, owned by the Benedictine monks of Saint Peter's, otherwise known as Westminster Abbey) follows the northern (or "Middlesex") bank of the River Thames, between Chelsea and the Houses of Parliament. The modern view, as one walks across the bridge, is dominated by the Neoclassical facade of the Tate Britain art gallery.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbP4jti2095ZA4GJrGKQ1s-x3A0lCH2-GkcodHSO5u45RRQurM4yhxzQohsbYF5hIHCSQaDrvleitjFKL8NnTnFKSM0RAlnZY-tG-3aOrKrzyFzFZ_0Y28GpqGoNwuunwK0VM42fsEDw/s1600/Tate+Britain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbP4jti2095ZA4GJrGKQ1s-x3A0lCH2-GkcodHSO5u45RRQurM4yhxzQohsbYF5hIHCSQaDrvleitjFKL8NnTnFKSM0RAlnZY-tG-3aOrKrzyFzFZ_0Y28GpqGoNwuunwK0VM42fsEDw/s400/Tate+Britain.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tate Britain. Photo: Adrian Pingstone (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
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Those who have been following these perambulations from <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2015/11/the-wards-of-old-london-bread-street.html">the outset</a> may have realised, by now, that we are traveling around Greater London somewhat in the manner of Henri Matisse's "Snail" (a work, incidentally, that I first saw, as a teenager, in this gallery, but which now hangs in the <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2017/05/the-streets-of-old-southwark-west.html">Tate Modern</a>), having visited the City of London, crossed the river into Southwark and Lambeth, and now crossing it once again to visit Westminster.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHctYobmYnMzXdLPKetL2c3CPUyezIDEi5IP6dKd8UWem7srum-RrQh9DjzUZRTUvFRk9_JICbCtEEkz-0oUahCdfu_49kzQ1QMNkH_Bb3475urOG4_4m1DFjxQJfPhDyPD-CTyh5MefQ/s1600/Matissesnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="300" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHctYobmYnMzXdLPKetL2c3CPUyezIDEi5IP6dKd8UWem7srum-RrQh9DjzUZRTUvFRk9_JICbCtEEkz-0oUahCdfu_49kzQ1QMNkH_Bb3475urOG4_4m1DFjxQJfPhDyPD-CTyh5MefQ/s400/Matissesnail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Snail," by Henri Matisse, 1953, Tate Modern (reproduced under Fair Usage Protocols).</td></tr>
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We have already encountered the sugar magnate, <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-streets-of-old-lambeth-streatham.html">Henry Tate</a>, at his one-time home in Streatham, and it was he who gave his name to the art gallery, having paid for its construction. The gallery opened to the public in 1897, an is now linked by a shuttle-boat service to its sister-gallery at Bankside, a great way to see the waterfronts of the Thames in the boroughs that we have been exploring. In Atterbury Street, on the side of the gallery, can be seen the scars of German bombing raids in 1940 and 1941.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1Q8afmZy8PM4-smS_RVvsuU36lyqrk5DsDnWCYFVvV_uFAw-Jy7hJWxV2V_Gd0QL6IW6FuZYYC1ieGjLCLShUsI092QnLPhjc7Ovwzd3haO83-X9u5HRUdEwcKr_wvuOtf74z9ZApws/s1600/Tate_Britain_Atterbury_St_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1Q8afmZy8PM4-smS_RVvsuU36lyqrk5DsDnWCYFVvV_uFAw-Jy7hJWxV2V_Gd0QL6IW6FuZYYC1ieGjLCLShUsI092QnLPhjc7Ovwzd3haO83-X9u5HRUdEwcKr_wvuOtf74z9ZApws/s320/Tate_Britain_Atterbury_St_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bomb damage on the wall of Tate Britain. Photo: www.stuckism.com (licensed under GNU).</td></tr>
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Both the gallery, and the adjacent Chelsea College of Art and Design (previously the headquarters of the Royal Army Medical Corps) were built on the site of a earlier prison. In fact, there had been a prison camp in the marshes here since the time of the Battle of Worcester (1651), with defeated Royalists being held here by Parliamentary forces prior to being sent for hard labour in Britain's overseas colonies. By the time that <a href="https://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.com/2016/01/samuel-pepys-plague-fire-and-revolution.html">Samuel Pepys</a> was writing his famous diary, this had been abandoned, and he records "Tothill Fields" as "a low, marshy locality," suitable for shooting snipe (not a bird that one commonly sees in the area today).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRTOIa8yHC4AlWAvF_JNCjZNbknsvvBXH8_sghFa24acBhRIS9slZeop0ceWRukifMs8zxweiNnDQbwqkMdYrs2pRR9BxWQB51sy8jKcDSC6VC8G3nvFqcVLl6q0pajww_lBEZv-t8MQ/s1600/Chelsea_College_of_Art_and_Design.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="1000" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRTOIa8yHC4AlWAvF_JNCjZNbknsvvBXH8_sghFa24acBhRIS9slZeop0ceWRukifMs8zxweiNnDQbwqkMdYrs2pRR9BxWQB51sy8jKcDSC6VC8G3nvFqcVLl6q0pajww_lBEZv-t8MQ/s400/Chelsea_College_of_Art_and_Design.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chelsea College of Art and Design, built in 1907 as the headquarters of the Royal Army Medical Corps. Photo: Entangle (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMefkzkJ6xAVTtqUQcj1ubqugpytQ26nxRXcdsCGrawtzm9Lk5-ELK9Hdn-yKkXabC2IEZFf_dLTQF0Sadyh5Untf5ME6_eqhdXtSBe5BPg2SsshcNNsoPeSe8xvEYH4lt84_SV0tTcKs/s1600/OS_Millbank_Tate_etc_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1097" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMefkzkJ6xAVTtqUQcj1ubqugpytQ26nxRXcdsCGrawtzm9Lk5-ELK9Hdn-yKkXabC2IEZFf_dLTQF0Sadyh5Untf5ME6_eqhdXtSBe5BPg2SsshcNNsoPeSe8xvEYH4lt84_SV0tTcKs/s400/OS_Millbank_Tate_etc_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ordnance Survey Map of 1912 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The more famous Millbank Prison, which functioned from 1816 to 1890, and which was demolished prior to the construction of the gallery and college, was closely associated with the transportation of convicts to Australia, since it was here that most of the prisoners were held before being loaded into barges and taken downstream to the ships that would carry them away. Although much of the literature (both fictional and non-fictional) inspired by these journeys have emphasised the hardships endured by the convicts (which were certainly real enough), it was intended, at least in part, as a more humane alternative to the gallows.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyTYewO7nT5VqyJG-eCM-UQbArmKz_8mRc1-I2CjnGgTM5sqd9BjBAMMx1aahug4y63eXO0ZwMITG58bzjEHJZpIBD7IlowFbnNaDha1odcVHPWF765qIyHr0ZdiWsQ5cOk2oGgVv3ys/s1600/Transportation.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="520" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyTYewO7nT5VqyJG-eCM-UQbArmKz_8mRc1-I2CjnGgTM5sqd9BjBAMMx1aahug4y63eXO0ZwMITG58bzjEHJZpIBD7IlowFbnNaDha1odcVHPWF765qIyHr0ZdiWsQ5cOk2oGgVv3ys/s400/Transportation.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Black-eyed Sue and Sweet Poll of Plymouth taking their leave of their lovers, who are going to Botany Bay," by Robert Sayer, 1792. National Library of Australia (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The prison itself was originally conceived by the philosopher, Jeremy Bentham (1747-1832), as part of a utopian scheme for the management, and ultimate reform, of offenders, but his <i>panopticon</i> design (intended to ensure surveillance of prisoners at all times, at minimum expense) proved to be impractical, and was never actually built. Instead, the prison became a byword for squalor and contagion, and few voices were raised to lament its demolition.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6xwhaD7Lc0I2yVy5UO4XFpPdv8fouwphnvjMDUT7JcOvXwRz8zJF8D7RRd2GbKcSZQnnuIWHwv9bIO4tCqhGYycTmmhK8cMeA8w02wYy3t24rvpthFOs91LMycXH0RrBcWVkEtleBi4/s1600/Jeremy_Bentham_by_Henry_William_Pickersgill_detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6xwhaD7Lc0I2yVy5UO4XFpPdv8fouwphnvjMDUT7JcOvXwRz8zJF8D7RRd2GbKcSZQnnuIWHwv9bIO4tCqhGYycTmmhK8cMeA8w02wYy3t24rvpthFOs91LMycXH0RrBcWVkEtleBi4/s320/Jeremy_Bentham_by_Henry_William_Pickersgill_detail.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeremy Bentham, by Henry William Pickersgill (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78u9SHeYc0-oacKKeiFkUY37NOaGp-jE8V840TtU_9VFbZJ_TwadWBTwi5xZZc_-Q6GW6aJGR8Wbm9LIQyruUjX_CiA2enmY_4puObIQz5vFipaxdMV7saCMjWdiE9jg4Umg7wpzRXMg/s1600/Panopticon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="816" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78u9SHeYc0-oacKKeiFkUY37NOaGp-jE8V840TtU_9VFbZJ_TwadWBTwi5xZZc_-Q6GW6aJGR8Wbm9LIQyruUjX_CiA2enmY_4puObIQz5vFipaxdMV7saCMjWdiE9jg4Umg7wpzRXMg/s400/Panopticon.jpg" width="362" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bentham's "Panopticon" design, 1791 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TC9txCB8yQzpUCKE-et5iLr9BjxJwTkjdbGJe01ljoWuzd4GclUkFWkTgKHUzL37SACPcSEkmBve-zzbpKcIlfJE19jRxTbT5pl8_f7KtER0ywJrIF-jLjCo-33dtb7awdutF_7nbDU/s1600/Millbank_Prison_Plan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1008" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TC9txCB8yQzpUCKE-et5iLr9BjxJwTkjdbGJe01ljoWuzd4GclUkFWkTgKHUzL37SACPcSEkmBve-zzbpKcIlfJE19jRxTbT5pl8_f7KtER0ywJrIF-jLjCo-33dtb7awdutF_7nbDU/s400/Millbank_Prison_Plan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plan of Millbank Prison, as actually built, G.P. Holford, 1828 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-bEBjMkoo7qcFXmOMtLYZLiOWAkMAM79gNcbVKJdagXhL3gpmDWsDog9kAVnmvhyphenhyphenB8qCnQNGwWM15ezwdUA3Qv9YUuTdHuQfSM5r697ArcRmjq5uMgOhkP14lPw906pq2fU77Q0A6Js/s1600/Milbank+Prison+a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="313" data-original-width="508" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-bEBjMkoo7qcFXmOMtLYZLiOWAkMAM79gNcbVKJdagXhL3gpmDWsDog9kAVnmvhyphenhyphenB8qCnQNGwWM15ezwdUA3Qv9YUuTdHuQfSM5r697ArcRmjq5uMgOhkP14lPw906pq2fU77Q0A6Js/s400/Milbank+Prison+a.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Millbank Prison, 1829, by Thomas Hosmer Shepherd (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-lZxrZVIG1gfeBbaCTX0do6wdkgPHUqMTtgr7k4bSp2tQiyEBouqGO1SaOv7Ca_7zfGOa9dWiIt6gtVFuU83Y52txXuAtBw4uZXNbcdJyHiL5MhCaGLF7liNTULShCJqEk7XwWTo_pY/s1600/Burial_ground_at_Millbank_Prison.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="864" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-lZxrZVIG1gfeBbaCTX0do6wdkgPHUqMTtgr7k4bSp2tQiyEBouqGO1SaOv7Ca_7zfGOa9dWiIt6gtVFuU83Y52txXuAtBw4uZXNbcdJyHiL5MhCaGLF7liNTULShCJqEk7XwWTo_pY/s400/Burial_ground_at_Millbank_Prison.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The burial ground at Millbank Prison, 1862 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Today, the path that follows the north bank of the Thames, as we walk towards Parliament Square, is pleasantly shaded by plane trees on the river-side; with the offices of government departments and political parties on the other side of the road; and little evidence remaining of those who passed this way en route for the most uncertain of futures.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrek2PKkuJPPXGMiZ8AAnL3w502E8JeD2lOjmf8e2mMZ-89Uf8Z29IZKZxIZ14pn540_z2-OlphNaQQaojnPzYg1VDhziNKvgCQNj6WOZGk_n2vC9mgpVFhS-vWK2luqY_K9JCUtUBGo/s1600/Millbank+Tower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrek2PKkuJPPXGMiZ8AAnL3w502E8JeD2lOjmf8e2mMZ-89Uf8Z29IZKZxIZ14pn540_z2-OlphNaQQaojnPzYg1VDhziNKvgCQNj6WOZGk_n2vC9mgpVFhS-vWK2luqY_K9JCUtUBGo/s400/Millbank+Tower.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Millbank Tower from Vauxhall. Photo: Iridescenti (licensed under GNU).</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-34489638184256579232018-08-15T06:22:00.000-07:002018-08-15T06:22:00.983-07:00The Story of London in 50 Novels: 10 - "A Journal of the Plague Year," by Daniel Defoe.In 1663, news first reached London of a plague that had been devastating the city of Amsterdam. The extensive trade links between England (especially London) and the Netherlands (most significantly Amsterdam) made it more or less inevitable that the sickness would, in time, make its way to these shores. The plague (both bubonic and pneumonic) was no stranger to Londoners: there had been periodic outbreaks over a period of more than three centuries, the most serious, by far, being the "Black Death" of 1347-8, which wiped out somewhere between a third and a half of the population of England, and set the ground for fundamental social and economic change.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6k3jj1C82v1YcRqnPbFwGZkZdQPaANGmPKzgpjiqLy4v3DpF8TOk5iSCGuBnzLSdQsN4GLxFgKFosFwbrDhrAfa7-K31YIUDB19pAXzK0KOcYtBqpCn7GknkgI7c8a63XAmaanjLiROo/s1600/Plague+of+1665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="750" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6k3jj1C82v1YcRqnPbFwGZkZdQPaANGmPKzgpjiqLy4v3DpF8TOk5iSCGuBnzLSdQsN4GLxFgKFosFwbrDhrAfa7-K31YIUDB19pAXzK0KOcYtBqpCn7GknkgI7c8a63XAmaanjLiROo/s400/Plague+of+1665.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Plague of London, 1665 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The most recent strain of the plague reached London in the autumn and winter of 1664-5, and raged through the summer of the latter year. Many of the City's wealthier citizens fled into the countryside; as did King Charles II and his court, settling first in Salisbury, and later in Oxford. There was only a limited window of time in which such escape was possible: as soon as the news of the plague spread to the rural districts, the people of the countryside became unwilling to accommodate their urban neighbours, or even allow them to pass. <br />
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The Lord Mayor of London, Sir John Lawrence, and most of the Aldermen, had, in any case, opted to remain, and to oversee the City's defences against the unseen killer. Between the, they saw to it that the dead were buried; that regular "Bills of Mortality" were published; and that those known to be suffering from the disease were quarantined in their homes to prevent the spread of contagion.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil6wi1SlxpRxj70EbPpAFhK9GEstmVHpnvYwiF8joFFKCdzC4QyaQnL2vUX-vBYzhEo63ekPvaxyzERuAeuvQAMOpLYwnhZ-PX-Au8jQZJQVBFNvnGgXIC_3Dg9MtNERg97aHEf4D4Dnk/s1600/Bill+of+Mortality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="379" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil6wi1SlxpRxj70EbPpAFhK9GEstmVHpnvYwiF8joFFKCdzC4QyaQnL2vUX-vBYzhEo63ekPvaxyzERuAeuvQAMOpLYwnhZ-PX-Au8jQZJQVBFNvnGgXIC_3Dg9MtNERg97aHEf4D4Dnk/s400/Bill+of+Mortality.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill of Mortality (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapC4Fr1XJE7IeLdU_eealqxqCxv_BXdmG8iVUfQtGx_Lcnm1P79DW_CDwNKZBT8BN_BkbMmYEEcTIYZk8S3smMNTzl_-W0HTGhRjOduQ8yyUDRCG5tm3cbCfFYKZtofitaKEhjAnjSGU/s1600/Bill_of_Mortality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapC4Fr1XJE7IeLdU_eealqxqCxv_BXdmG8iVUfQtGx_Lcnm1P79DW_CDwNKZBT8BN_BkbMmYEEcTIYZk8S3smMNTzl_-W0HTGhRjOduQ8yyUDRCG5tm3cbCfFYKZtofitaKEhjAnjSGU/s400/Bill_of_Mortality.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill of Mortality (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFlWAbPsQIZxIdsTaWReILaaNe1vqgCyn4cpL8_9dBqxHsxG5u_pi5FMuTWfKQ-3-opE5Ywur56mIr1Qau2p3_7ZSLSxaTdVwux4S3LN6w42ndBj7lE4Vz3AB2NWLNAUhkIIzJAMdrRs/s1600/PlagueDoctor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="307" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFlWAbPsQIZxIdsTaWReILaaNe1vqgCyn4cpL8_9dBqxHsxG5u_pi5FMuTWfKQ-3-opE5Ywur56mIr1Qau2p3_7ZSLSxaTdVwux4S3LN6w42ndBj7lE4Vz3AB2NWLNAUhkIIzJAMdrRs/s400/PlagueDoctor.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Plague Doctor (image is in the Public Domain): the "beak" held aromatic plants, believed to stave off contagion. Seventeenth Century doctors could, in fact, do nothing to help patients suffering from the plague, although they could, and did, record the progress of the disease in such a way as to improve the understanding of the process of infection. </td></tr>
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Ultimately, the disease would kill around 100,000 people (roughly a quarter of London's population), and it would disappear almost as suddenly as it had fallen upon the City. The role of the following year's Great Fire of London in destroying what remained of the disease has probably been over-stated: it seems, rather, that he disease had simply completed its life-cycle. The over-land trade routes that connected the Mediterranean world with the Far East, and along which the plague seems originally to have spread into Europe, were, by this time, in decline, replaced by the maritime routes around the southern tip of Africa and across the Indian Ocean, that were being opened up by Portuguese and Dutch navigators.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHI228o6bB73rXYW_ic4L5aNS5LNDo4rXhwoMqm1UUBH4IJpxJZZH-opKsZnbneeCmvDK5uNDXGSSWHpLoakexWxDHpoIi8hRA-G36HD1DD59J88bBLWoQpnHKHDI520IwmGY5EzNTS4/s1600/A+Journal+of+the+Plague+Year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="286" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHI228o6bB73rXYW_ic4L5aNS5LNDo4rXhwoMqm1UUBH4IJpxJZZH-opKsZnbneeCmvDK5uNDXGSSWHpLoakexWxDHpoIi8hRA-G36HD1DD59J88bBLWoQpnHKHDI520IwmGY5EzNTS4/s320/A+Journal+of+the+Plague+Year.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>
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Daniel Defoe's book, <i>A Journal of the Plague Year</i>, published in 1722, has often been seen as a work of non-fiction <i>reportage</i>. It is written in the first person, and appears to be a detailed eyewitness account, but can hardly be so, since Defoe had been just five years old in 1665. The account is credited to "H.F." (possibly Defoe's Uncle, Henry Foe, on whose reminiscences the author may have relied). Although Defoe has sometimes been cited as the first English novelist (John Bunyan and Aphra Behn arguably have stronger claims), those making this suggestion have generally had in mind <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> (1719) and <i>Moll Flanders</i> (1722). Recently however, <i>A Journal of the Plague Year </i>has itself been reconsidered as a novel (and, indeed, a historical novel, since it was written fifty-seven years after the events that it describes took place. Writers of Defoe's generation had yet to agree on a clear definition of what a novel actually was, but this account, though clearly rooted in detailed empirical research, has a number of the features that we might recognise as typical of the novel, including characters (though not many of them), and dialogue (though not very much of it). As such, it gives a fascinating insight, not only into London life during the Great Plague, but also into the embryology of the historical novel in English.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3ls9Avuj7Uh90ankVV3HTGU-A7qvCSdYH4NBkjLweziKqbmBFO_2S-qJoqJ0TQ9Yb_q2Bj5SU5bMr5jZHdk7fPM6u1skHbgtPx-tIxWIA4I1Ugb60Q45eGoZ-Rib2ilVyOb9HRa06es/s1600/Daniel+Defoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="752" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3ls9Avuj7Uh90ankVV3HTGU-A7qvCSdYH4NBkjLweziKqbmBFO_2S-qJoqJ0TQ9Yb_q2Bj5SU5bMr5jZHdk7fPM6u1skHbgtPx-tIxWIA4I1Ugb60Q45eGoZ-Rib2ilVyOb9HRa06es/s400/Daniel+Defoe.jpg" width="333" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daniel Defoe, possibly after Sir Godfrey Kneller, National Maritime Museum (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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"<i>It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest of my neighbours, heard in ordinary discourse that the plague was returned again in Holland; for it had been very violent there, and particularly at Amsterdam and Rotterdam, in the year 1663, whither, they say, it was brought, some said from Italy, others from the Levant, among some goods that were brought home from their Turkey fleet; others said that it was brought from Candia; others from Cyprus. It mattered not from whence it came; but all agreed it was come into Holland again.</i>"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rtT9Oec8f_GfaZU5lLCtfCm7waVonbXers54XyFTiNiaVvx_3fiM4fr65t0vZzrDHBhv_xyVugYspZoOzABSl6Ivr7iq7ITShxcr5AqsgrYUsZ7MML8_1-4yO5_5i4mPknL7aTe569A/s1600/London+in+1665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="1280" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rtT9Oec8f_GfaZU5lLCtfCm7waVonbXers54XyFTiNiaVvx_3fiM4fr65t0vZzrDHBhv_xyVugYspZoOzABSl6Ivr7iq7ITShxcr5AqsgrYUsZ7MML8_1-4yO5_5i4mPknL7aTe569A/s400/London+in+1665.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">London in 1665, by Wenceslas Hollar (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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" <i>... now the weather set in hot, an from the first week in June the infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills rose high; the articles of the fever, spotted fever, and teeth began to swell; for all that could conceal their distempers did it, to prevent their neighbours shunning and refusing to converse with them, and also to prevent authority shutting up their houses; which, though it was not yet practised, yet was threatened, and people were extremely terrified at he thoughts of it ... I lived without Aldgate, about midway between Aldgate Church and Whitechapel Bars on the left hand or north side of the street; and as the distemper had not reached to that side of the city, our neighbourhood continued very easy. But at the other end of the town their consternation was very great: and the richer sort of people ... thronged out of town with their families and servants ... this was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and ... it filed me with very serious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city, and the unhappy condition of those that would be left in it.</i>"<br />
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"<i>I say they had dug several pits in another ground, when the distemper began to spread in our parish, and especially when the dead-carts began to go about, which was not, in our parish, till he beginning of August. Into these pits they had put perhaps fifty or sixty bodies each; then they made larger holes wherein they buried all that the cart brought in a week, which, by the middle to end of August, came to from 200 to 400 a week; and they could not well dig them larger, because of the order of the magistrates confining them to leave no bodies within six feet of the surface; and the water coming on at about seventeen or eighteen feet ... </i>" <br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-67469254685521510752018-07-22T06:04:00.000-07:002018-07-22T06:04:37.143-07:00The Story of London in 50 Novels: 9 - "Nothing Like the Sun," by Anthony BurgessThe golden age of English theatre spanned the reigns of Elizabeth I and James I. It was overwhelmingly a London phenomenon (although productions did tour, especially when the plague was raging in the City), and is not really matched in any of the other major cities of Europe, where the main cultural achievements of the late Renaissance were in the fields of painting, sculpture, architecture, and music. We have already looked at this in relation to <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.com/2018/04/the-story-of-london-in-50-novels-7.html">Christopher Marlowe</a>, but his career was cut short by murder, and his reputation, in modern times, has been eclipsed by that of his longer-lived contemporary, William Shakespeare.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmW4JEERdMXaICVCTm5uLQxbO7cb9GNmhGkuc3c8pIQyxeovKsawDpOjuspMaFqVDHIotDHDYeGg6fS6SuAoQ-ljcnfWpCa-qUoVdIG5Tr2DGMtpFyby0dTxTjtUcWuOu0QCTM_XVWTU/s1600/Shakespeare+Chandos+Portrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="702" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmW4JEERdMXaICVCTm5uLQxbO7cb9GNmhGkuc3c8pIQyxeovKsawDpOjuspMaFqVDHIotDHDYeGg6fS6SuAoQ-ljcnfWpCa-qUoVdIG5Tr2DGMtpFyby0dTxTjtUcWuOu0QCTM_XVWTU/s400/Shakespeare+Chandos+Portrait.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Shakespeare, by John Taylor, 1610 (The Chandos Portrait). Image: National Portrait Gallery (Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Unlike Marlowe, Shakespeare did not have the advantage of a university education (he might, perhaps, have taken a degree at Oxford, had his family not fallen upon hard times, the result of ill-advised business risks taken by his father). Shakespeare probably arrived in London some time between 1585 and 1592, and joined an acting troupe, the Lord Chamberlain's Men, who staged productions at The Theatre in Shoreditch. He soon began writing, as well as acting, attracting the jealousy of rival playwrights. Robert Greene (when did we last see a play of his performed?) wrote, in 1592, that " ... <i>there is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger's heart wrapped in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes Factotum is in his own conceit the only shake-scene in a country</i>."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzP89FPoIjC8xtEliyx-YD_E0GJZwtnAwWSpfRlEpYguevVaRUIVnf7NVfyYTSqJU8bCirr1GPT-BH0onNH2_5CF7Fr6ZT1jNdyoWm_9iyxdozIP1vvWZPGXGghVgksCf4_v9UjF7bB0/s1600/Shakespeare_coat-of-arms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="278" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzP89FPoIjC8xtEliyx-YD_E0GJZwtnAwWSpfRlEpYguevVaRUIVnf7NVfyYTSqJU8bCirr1GPT-BH0onNH2_5CF7Fr6ZT1jNdyoWm_9iyxdozIP1vvWZPGXGghVgksCf4_v9UjF7bB0/s400/Shakespeare_coat-of-arms.jpg" width="336" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coat of arms procured by Shakespeare for his father, 1596. Image: College of Heralds (Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The Theatre had been built by James Burbage, the father of the actor, Richard, who played the leading roles in many of Shakespeare's plays, but the lease on the land expired in 1599, and the actors, assisted by a carpenter, dismantled the theatre, and transported the timber, beam by beam, across the Thames. Their new theatre, The Globe, opened in 1599, and it was here that several of Shakespeare's plays, including Julius Caesar and Henry V, were first performed.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rGJmphnGCjQdKPhGeTIUf8un7PaChdo_VaWdqHoBOU2T4-kP0dWuSnhsXVAhy7DnaVYbr8Fd33o75o2bIXXH7txw78DcJrCRlPzwZvFMAd_gZmX9yumNwOO_3_P9xs0Td_FuQ9fWn44/s1600/The+Globe.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="337" data-original-width="520" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rGJmphnGCjQdKPhGeTIUf8un7PaChdo_VaWdqHoBOU2T4-kP0dWuSnhsXVAhy7DnaVYbr8Fd33o75o2bIXXH7txw78DcJrCRlPzwZvFMAd_gZmX9yumNwOO_3_P9xs0Td_FuQ9fWn44/s400/The+Globe.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Globe in 1647, by Wenceslaus Hollar (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFckgFd3SzNnIyIWWIT_lGpnYzSgvDDMvPkGxiJkST80c50u-R29GFDS4YlbEXOrVICmClQb0z_H8cQOr9AypCnA4pnEZshIIdMfGPIUu7Ksjupe6znjxJQmHB0AmhHSKaRiw6tMMthX4/s1600/Globe_theatre_london.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFckgFd3SzNnIyIWWIT_lGpnYzSgvDDMvPkGxiJkST80c50u-R29GFDS4YlbEXOrVICmClQb0z_H8cQOr9AypCnA4pnEZshIIdMfGPIUu7Ksjupe6znjxJQmHB0AmhHSKaRiw6tMMthX4/s400/Globe_theatre_london.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The reconstructed "Shakespeare's Globe," opened in 1997. Photo: ChrisO (licensed under GNU).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kvYDWIjXtQUdQml-B5oXwclTGozBLKBpG2W5HdnKHVk9o3DIuPCyyIGmypEkGoTA2gZqBWsFW6LKm_ONsxY34SXWPHwKAJOwI1_GC9ZPLHAAC_Gr9a_H9CzjzOo63gkF2mq7ucz3vGE/s1600/Original+location+of+The+Globe.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="517" data-original-width="505" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kvYDWIjXtQUdQml-B5oXwclTGozBLKBpG2W5HdnKHVk9o3DIuPCyyIGmypEkGoTA2gZqBWsFW6LKm_ONsxY34SXWPHwKAJOwI1_GC9ZPLHAAC_Gr9a_H9CzjzOo63gkF2mq7ucz3vGE/s400/Original+location+of+The+Globe.png" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original location of The Globe. Image: Old Moonraker (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikkMOoz27xeb8Xq-Fd2DSvVh9ejoVugvpnsJk6vVWnNUo0asR_A0XKISVH2J4D40uKjvEyB9JUtBMg3HZsz8Lqfh1q3ba84_UnxAbU5hyphenhyphenIphTlE5FAUmO1eoi8SsG3IvSBqwxBgAOyrMg/s1600/Hodge%2527s_conjectural_Globe_reconstruction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="876" data-original-width="1200" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikkMOoz27xeb8Xq-Fd2DSvVh9ejoVugvpnsJk6vVWnNUo0asR_A0XKISVH2J4D40uKjvEyB9JUtBMg3HZsz8Lqfh1q3ba84_UnxAbU5hyphenhyphenIphTlE5FAUmO1eoi8SsG3IvSBqwxBgAOyrMg/s400/Hodge%2527s_conjectural_Globe_reconstruction.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conjectural reconstruction of The Globe, by Walter Hodges (1958). Image: Folger Shakespeare Library (licensed under CCA). </td></tr>
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Shakespeare's true home was always in Stratford-upon-Avon (in London he lived in rented rooms), and he retired there in 1613, dying three years later. In 1642 the theatres, including The Globe, were closed by Parliamentary decree, marking the end of the London theatre's golden age.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4YhH59Jvz8809HJwcHSv1ObUqfYWKmL0j26pGbAyUnnajRh87LfT2ib4gRIhJOjDIp7DW25YLj9Aldu5zZ832_jXhJl-d5go8QEb0e7I8noe3-edIABaWwTz9SNg3-d2F2R5HhYC6L4/s1600/Nothing+Like+The+Sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4YhH59Jvz8809HJwcHSv1ObUqfYWKmL0j26pGbAyUnnajRh87LfT2ib4gRIhJOjDIp7DW25YLj9Aldu5zZ832_jXhJl-d5go8QEb0e7I8noe3-edIABaWwTz9SNg3-d2F2R5HhYC6L4/s320/Nothing+Like+The+Sun.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
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Anthony Burgess's novel, <i>Nothing Like the Sun</i>, follows Shakespeare's perambulations between Stratford and London, and explores his personal and professional relationships, including his romantic entanglements with both women and men (of the private life of the historical Shakespeare we actually know very little, although there are good reasons for believing that he may have been, in modern terms, bisexual). The novel presents a vivid picture both of Shakespeare's (imagined) character, and of the London through which he walked.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJNJfFo3_p6NU30EdFzAwzIMzElJjdyTdWGnxIj7hAhXlvW1hGctfEgIW0XXGmUbK9ExqAuJDIaXY3H3fniqtxFZo6vYnlYr8RP1Rbjay3js3GuFpBKTLvSCZMstBKuWjKroQeH3njxjk/s1600/Hollar+long+view+of+London.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="291" data-original-width="1500" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJNJfFo3_p6NU30EdFzAwzIMzElJjdyTdWGnxIj7hAhXlvW1hGctfEgIW0XXGmUbK9ExqAuJDIaXY3H3fniqtxFZo6vYnlYr8RP1Rbjay3js3GuFpBKTLvSCZMstBKuWjKroQeH3njxjk/s640/Hollar+long+view+of+London.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long View of London, by Wenceslaus Hollar, 1647 (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nhpReLRt_JvYzclieu9PgDmssl3ESrI0bYUaCIfewf7TDgFItyAzCOsSp4hfgPiY1pTLvSfiDqc3wZjZshyphenhyphenXUgNxFyuliOAGnlhyphenhyphen30rKzTvD0GQcW9cNv6fyPKFhaV34ozHL2mVxVV8/s1600/Visscher+Panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="1500" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nhpReLRt_JvYzclieu9PgDmssl3ESrI0bYUaCIfewf7TDgFItyAzCOsSp4hfgPiY1pTLvSfiDqc3wZjZshyphenhyphenXUgNxFyuliOAGnlhyphenhyphen30rKzTvD0GQcW9cNv6fyPKFhaV34ozHL2mVxVV8/s640/Visscher+Panorama.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panorama of London, by Claes Visscher, 1616. Image: Library of Congress (Public Domain).</td></tr>
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"<i>Far from the river now. North of the divers fair and large builded houses for merchants and suchlike. North even of the City Wall and the fair summer houses north of the wall. Good air in Shoreditch. The Theatre a finer playhouse than The Rose. Burbage as good a man of business any day as Henslowe and an old player too, though, from what I see, of no great skill. But now, his son promises, this Richard. He may yet go further than Alleyn. Is that Giles Alleyn from whom old Burbage got the land of Ned's kin? It may be so. In '76 it was. A lease of twenty-one years. A mere patch with rank grass and dog-turds, even a man's bones they say. A skull grinning up at the surveyors. And now a fair playhouse. Twenty-one years, let me see. To '98, which is but four more. Will this Alleyn renew? Were I he I would not. But it is the men more than the playhouse, sure. The Lord Chamberlain's Men</i>."<br />
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"<i>Let me take a breath, let me take a swig, for, my heart, she is coming. She is about to make her entrance. It was while he was walking off Bishopsgate - Houndsditch, Camomile Street, St Helen's Place, St Helen's Church - that he saw her. She stepped from her own coach outside a house near St Helen's, escorted by her unveiled maid. But, in the fresh fall wind, her veil lifted an instant; he saw. He saw a face the sun had blessed to gold ... They were rehearsing Romeo at the Theatre when, in a break or brief ale-intermission, he asked old James Burbage ... 'There be many tales touching her origins. Her own story is (or they say so) that she was brought back as an infant from the East Indies by Sir Francis Drake himself, in the Golden Hind that lies at Deptford now. It is said that both her father and mother were a sort of noble Moors of those parts and were killed by Drake's men in a fight they had there, then she was left all alone and weeping and so, in pity, was brought to England to be in a manner adopted</i>.'"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXa5k-OMkYL815DDVkn-mlkX8w0A-shHbA6yNsYKOQWxlulLLEe9Il-cCuXnltmdR0lCKkBZF85ihnHTra8JHKiFBM8toYp3659YpMKS0h0y3B83887-gGCZQGMozmCsjMEV-YfTQBf8/s1600/St_Helens_Bishopsgate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="640" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXa5k-OMkYL815DDVkn-mlkX8w0A-shHbA6yNsYKOQWxlulLLEe9Il-cCuXnltmdR0lCKkBZF85ihnHTra8JHKiFBM8toYp3659YpMKS0h0y3B83887-gGCZQGMozmCsjMEV-YfTQBf8/s400/St_Helens_Bishopsgate.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saint Helen's, Bishopsgate, where Shakespeare was, for a time, a parishioner. Photo: Lonpicman (licensed under GNU). </td></tr>
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Richard Burbage:<br />
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"<i>They have relented: we may play again.</i><br />
<i>Gain, though - what gain? Only the Rose hath gained</i><br />
<i>With three new petals that to us be thorns.</i><br />
<i>Spencer and Shaa and pestilential Ben</i><br />
<i>Have navigated the rough Marshal's sea</i><br />
<i>And are three masts now for the Admiral</i>."<br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
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<br />Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-20331946055603581072018-06-14T06:06:00.000-07:002018-06-14T07:31:16.777-07:00The Streets of Old Lambeth: Streatham - The Road SouthA visitor to London, exploring the Borough of Lambeth, and having visited <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2018/05/the-streets-of-old-lambeth-brixton-from.html">Brixton</a>, can take any one of several buses (159, 133, 333, 118) southwards to Streatham Hill. The railway station here opened in 1856, as part of the West End of London and Crystal Palace Railway, the arrival of which made this area of south London more attractive to London's burgeoning population of commuters. Even before this, however, horse-drawn omnibuses had opened up Streatham to residential development; and, going back to the Eighteenth Century, it was a place to which Londoners came to "take the waters" from local springs; and where the wealthy built their mansions, away from the smoke and noise of the City, yet close enough to commute on horseback, or by carriage.<br />
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The current A23 (Streatham Hill, which becomes Streatham High Road as we move south) was a minor Roman Road connecting London to Portslade (now part of Brighton and Hove) on the south coast. In the Seventeenth Century, it was "improved" as a coaching route running through Croydon and East Grinstead to Lewes and the port of Newhaven. England's first supermarket (Express Dairies Premier Supermarket) opened here in 1951.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaJfgcEpUdPR0-_BWkunqoDjHytJTr9K8GWOtS9LJYbZUq3MgGol8MKhVj3sdv81j3KJNZW3getMre2kh041pWc1A2WPjEN80_7lLwvuoaCwaNNZ2o8nfJ135a5-_4VdQHPguIpDW8v0/s1600/Red+House+Stables+Streatham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="590" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaJfgcEpUdPR0-_BWkunqoDjHytJTr9K8GWOtS9LJYbZUq3MgGol8MKhVj3sdv81j3KJNZW3getMre2kh041pWc1A2WPjEN80_7lLwvuoaCwaNNZ2o8nfJ135a5-_4VdQHPguIpDW8v0/s400/Red+House+Stables+Streatham.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stables of the Red House Coaching Inn, Streatham, by William West Neve, 1884. Image: Praefectus Fabum (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2cUV9UmsMSzcFDsKbNBo_bm2SvCy0WHmVklFAF1WXeRGXAGHTaWbImlJKw5yXwNlJtrZB4x-XVLvaf-3NXO8gAR6xuPvIJUMciTtM5oUr0K8VpNkg22xx3Z3O54embLoIxdBjTZgWr4w/s1600/Streatham_Public_Library.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2cUV9UmsMSzcFDsKbNBo_bm2SvCy0WHmVklFAF1WXeRGXAGHTaWbImlJKw5yXwNlJtrZB4x-XVLvaf-3NXO8gAR6xuPvIJUMciTtM5oUr0K8VpNkg22xx3Z3O54embLoIxdBjTZgWr4w/s400/Streatham_Public_Library.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Streatham Public Library. Photo: Matthew Black (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2rnkfEv-ShTZ3ICGz4Q3ITBe19e0K-4HeO1ahznFboWyGAn4ztXEZSuhdiRvYkfZJvEZDcFckdc25Eah6GLuTlbvxUrTSSl6XVQhjs2RYLJc8ilNhOHdCe-jCvV5IuOd35IVRap9J9U/s1600/streatham-high-road-00350-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="640" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2rnkfEv-ShTZ3ICGz4Q3ITBe19e0K-4HeO1ahznFboWyGAn4ztXEZSuhdiRvYkfZJvEZDcFckdc25Eah6GLuTlbvxUrTSSl6XVQhjs2RYLJc8ilNhOHdCe-jCvV5IuOd35IVRap9J9U/s400/streatham-high-road-00350-640.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Streatham High Road in 1895 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9TRpv0aweVNd_XfFaovQu7CFvjG8698xEoRxdj9pWPEEu7fY6fxOqiCqgJFwk2_fpGutoSIOK6z9zWNqxWdI_hJtGB1uGAxkKdb5qNCs__C6G-8k0qhZhT2Okvn4BPgVMafOYABNaOY/s1600/Streatham_bombing_damage_1916_IWM_HO_101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="800" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9TRpv0aweVNd_XfFaovQu7CFvjG8698xEoRxdj9pWPEEu7fY6fxOqiCqgJFwk2_fpGutoSIOK6z9zWNqxWdI_hJtGB1uGAxkKdb5qNCs__C6G-8k0qhZhT2Okvn4BPgVMafOYABNaOY/s400/Streatham_bombing_damage_1916_IWM_HO_101.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bomb damage in Streatham, caused by a German Zeppelin raid in September, 1916. Photo: Imperial War Museum, HO 101 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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To the east of the road, two churches stand opposite one another. Saint Leonard's dates back to Saxon times (Estreham is mentioned as a village in the Domesday Book of 1086, its sheep producing wool to make habits for the monks of Bec-Helloun Abbey in Normandy), but only the Fifteenth Century tower predates 1831. The second, taller, church is the Roman Catholic Church of the English Martyrs, opened in 1893, to serve the large community of Irish origin, many of whom worked on the railways which their grandfathers and great-grandfathers had helped to build.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfaRSOaj4Kg_lCmP8U-JZB_DUuuGe3uYchiJqFfVHEr432ofGOLSiZuFJ4qPVpo21nHPxJEsQI03JV8YdcHnuJh5vErNrcwr88jPIdY9w5ngm2xMTQ46HK44BpjuJVOiopN8U7VR-kUs/s1600/St_Leonard%2527s_Church%252C_Streatham_%25285990092166%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1184" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfaRSOaj4Kg_lCmP8U-JZB_DUuuGe3uYchiJqFfVHEr432ofGOLSiZuFJ4qPVpo21nHPxJEsQI03JV8YdcHnuJh5vErNrcwr88jPIdY9w5ngm2xMTQ46HK44BpjuJVOiopN8U7VR-kUs/s400/St_Leonard%2527s_Church%252C_Streatham_%25285990092166%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saint Leonard's Church. Photo: Robert Cutts (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDxQ9LYLv7QJQZR3_h2Wj0ynL8Q4Eys1X0XLD7xM20Z5k40PxlqvOM8pFlAUcA4AlcIUwms3GjEIEGG3wAtDXJZawUtM7cF2pJXIh3cdnFdNFlqp2ImabN7xpckQtZ7kN1AYhKqdujbg/s1600/Saint+Leonard%2527s+Church+Interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDxQ9LYLv7QJQZR3_h2Wj0ynL8Q4Eys1X0XLD7xM20Z5k40PxlqvOM8pFlAUcA4AlcIUwms3GjEIEGG3wAtDXJZawUtM7cF2pJXIh3cdnFdNFlqp2ImabN7xpckQtZ7kN1AYhKqdujbg/s400/Saint+Leonard%2527s+Church+Interior.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The interior of Saint Leonard's Church. Photo Stephen Craven (licensed under CCA). </td></tr>
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Continuing south along the road, and passing Streatham railway station on the right, we come to Streatham Common, one of the many green spaces that make the London suburbs a pleasant place to live. Most of its mature trees were planted in the late Nineteenth Century. Overlooking the common is Park Hill House (not accessible to the public): it was built, in 1830, by the banker and silver-merchant, William Leaf; but was home, from 1851 to 1899, to the sugar-merchant and philanthropist, Sir Henry Tate. Born in Liverpool, the son of a Unitarian minister, Tate was a self-made man, who endowed not only Streatham's and Brixton's public libraries, but also the Tate Gallery, Liverpool Royal Infirmary, Liverpool University, and the University of London's Bedford College for women.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqWFSxvEIWYmhecL-0NrdFywMPw6OywW_aAsui-Mupx8Qwr55xncc-_zn0gYwMxCKEk8y1VGJ2e95EoexW0l6-0ZUSs-1Inejd6k6KkWkfwTuIAS8xNcQk54slDDlsUtQnVeyqRF0nJc/s1600/Streatham_Common_in_2005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqWFSxvEIWYmhecL-0NrdFywMPw6OywW_aAsui-Mupx8Qwr55xncc-_zn0gYwMxCKEk8y1VGJ2e95EoexW0l6-0ZUSs-1Inejd6k6KkWkfwTuIAS8xNcQk54slDDlsUtQnVeyqRF0nJc/s400/Streatham_Common_in_2005.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Streatham Common. Photo: Noel Foster (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0OTd-WUTBn3XWYI9XHbbunPOUINWJlbIOXHcWIsbPYhhnFTa4yRcCxEazUS1S2CvkJH0X3EtYt7JuurPTcocMGUZ90h8WY9NDOZVKfl_D2veZ3xN3jNFFRdYKObHKBnjq4O-YubtYPI/s1600/Autumn_on_Streatham_Common_-_geograph.org.uk_-_736026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0OTd-WUTBn3XWYI9XHbbunPOUINWJlbIOXHcWIsbPYhhnFTa4yRcCxEazUS1S2CvkJH0X3EtYt7JuurPTcocMGUZ90h8WY9NDOZVKfl_D2veZ3xN3jNFFRdYKObHKBnjq4O-YubtYPI/s400/Autumn_on_Streatham_Common_-_geograph.org.uk_-_736026.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn on Streatham Common. Photo: Nicky Johns (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwTdOwmJ2kPgz61nfo964j-Yoslj7vb-wwBehEm4Y5q5aYVDAH3oc1M-qS9QDlsYgU7cBex1ls11PLx3fONjiHhKymrl3uzEoFX8NSmfdYajX7HlEiy-uBkYABEBMSQSTazJc6hN7-jk/s1600/Park+Hill+Streatham+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="350" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwTdOwmJ2kPgz61nfo964j-Yoslj7vb-wwBehEm4Y5q5aYVDAH3oc1M-qS9QDlsYgU7cBex1ls11PLx3fONjiHhKymrl3uzEoFX8NSmfdYajX7HlEiy-uBkYABEBMSQSTazJc6hN7-jk/s400/Park+Hill+Streatham+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Park Hill House, Streatham (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0S8hXRd142tsWEbVSDUYI6VjeZgGQu0anwzQemwH6MnohdQVKPNph1s1No9QVMnKa46iTQzaADvVl_cpOx0PPpOYVLze6-sBoBq2YGZf8kDNOziKbKIQRlTXz6PPwGqtzdn2yi_m6qVw/s1600/Henry+Tate+painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1208" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0S8hXRd142tsWEbVSDUYI6VjeZgGQu0anwzQemwH6MnohdQVKPNph1s1No9QVMnKa46iTQzaADvVl_cpOx0PPpOYVLze6-sBoBq2YGZf8kDNOziKbKIQRlTXz6PPwGqtzdn2yi_m6qVw/s400/Henry+Tate+painting.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sir Henry Tate, by Sir Hubert von Herkomer, 1897. Image: Tate Britain (Public Domain).</td></tr>
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We have now completed our exploration of the Borough of Lambeth. From outside Streatham railway station, one can take a bus (159, 133, or 118) back to Brixton, and then the Victoria Line to <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2018/04/the-streets-of-old-lambeth-vauxhall.html">Vauxhall</a>, walking across Vauxhall Bridge into the City of Westminster.<br />
<br />
Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
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<br />Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-25112127403704945362018-06-02T02:52:00.000-07:002018-06-02T09:36:46.607-07:00The Story of London in 50 Novels: 8 - "The House of Doctor Dee," by Peter AckroydLondon during the Sixteenth and early Seventeenth Centuries was a bustling port, with ships arriving on a daily basis from the most dynamic cities of Europe: Stockholm & Copenhagen; Rotterdam & Antwerp; Bordeaux & Seville; Genoa & Venice. These ships brought furs, timber, wine, silks, and spices, but, just as importantly, they brought knowledge and information, and they brought books. Following the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turk in 1453, waves of Greek immigrants settled in Italy, some of them bringing manuscripts from the Byzantine Imperial Archives. Many found work as tutors, teaching Greek to the children of aristocrats and wealthy merchants, and some, at least, of these, must have found their way to England. The brightest among these immigrants, however, set to work translating the classic works of Greek philosophy, mathematics, and literature into Latin. These works soon appeared in Italian, English, Dutch, and French translations.<br />
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In 1527, a boy named John Dee was born in the shadow of the Tower of London, the son of a merchant family of Welsh descent. As a child, he probably spent time on the London docks, and developed a prodigious gift for languages. By the time he began his studies at Cambridge in the 1540s, he could read both Greek and Latin, and probably French, German, and Dutch as well.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGJXj3_cgaWUUu2n2BpInGCIxCVAimlX6NUtzn5hOlZ9mq5LCISE3gDOHOMCbST4n0Qo3pE14Jh9aYTfRCwi0dtDNPE47bw4qV0C3iIf2t7EVSsZctmcIKpJEiDJCadM3jkUi9p0nbVrN/s1600/John_Dee_Ashmolean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="499" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGJXj3_cgaWUUu2n2BpInGCIxCVAimlX6NUtzn5hOlZ9mq5LCISE3gDOHOMCbST4n0Qo3pE14Jh9aYTfRCwi0dtDNPE47bw4qV0C3iIf2t7EVSsZctmcIKpJEiDJCadM3jkUi9p0nbVrN/s320/John_Dee_Ashmolean.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doctor John Dee, Ashmolean Museum, anonymous portrait (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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He became one of the first fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge, following its foundation in 1546, and began the tradition, which survives at Cambridge to this day, of staging Greek plays in the original language. His production of Aristophanes's <i>Peace</i> gained him a reputation as an illusionist or magician (nobody was quite sure which), as he sent an actor into the roof-space of Trinity College, clinging to the back of a giant beetle, probably with the assistance of college porters who had served as Petty Officers in the Royal Navy. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4INKEf70U1I5PoGji-0fBHbiH77hPFXxx0JY55e-8LzzjreJZel_xFP68n8EfUr1BPw8n1ysEiSjf-Zgl5OGtqGHBGKUXxPbPx-Tk16DDFuEHLdgT_tsAmNv5K1o81bxWFP3lQMWJWXu/s1600/Aldine+Press.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4INKEf70U1I5PoGji-0fBHbiH77hPFXxx0JY55e-8LzzjreJZel_xFP68n8EfUr1BPw8n1ysEiSjf-Zgl5OGtqGHBGKUXxPbPx-Tk16DDFuEHLdgT_tsAmNv5K1o81bxWFP3lQMWJWXu/s320/Aldine+Press.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The logo of Venice's Aldine Press (image is in the Public Domain). Aldines were the Penguins of their day. Working in partnership with the Doge's brother, the publisher, Aldus Manutius had a monopoly of books printed in Greek on Venetian territory: he played a key role in establishing a pan-European and multi-lingual market for the Greek classics in Renaissance Europe. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37FLydSSK60cEe3iZps9RS7DbXbvr8tcJESQ-5GWJlfGD2lP704MekQ44vjxy0fnyvqT2BRqTGHMM9q4j7rmH_rBT3tcq_uIw_PUkSg0IkvrdD9U3QBrOYZ-BYRpWtAOs1x3JJIzM0mKY/s1600/Aldine+Herodotus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1110" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37FLydSSK60cEe3iZps9RS7DbXbvr8tcJESQ-5GWJlfGD2lP704MekQ44vjxy0fnyvqT2BRqTGHMM9q4j7rmH_rBT3tcq_uIw_PUkSg0IkvrdD9U3QBrOYZ-BYRpWtAOs1x3JJIzM0mKY/s320/Aldine+Herodotus.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Aldine Latin translation of the works of Herodotus (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Despite his Cambridge connections, and his extensive European travels (Louvain, Brussels, Paris, Krakow, Prague), Dee remained, for much of his adult life, a Londoner, accumulating a vast library at his home in Mortlake. He was a philosopher, an alchemist, an astrologer, and a mathematician; an early English enthusiast for the philosophy of Plato, but also for the more esoteric ideas of "Hermes Trismegistus," a supposed Egyptian contemporary of Moses. Like many of his generation, Dee made no distinction between what we would call "science," and what we might think of as "occult" activities. He believed in a harmonious synthesis of all forms of human and divine knowledge: he taught Euclidian mathematics to navigators; but he also experimented in communication with angels. The British Museum holds a collection of objects that he used for these experiments, including an <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOPuF9D-1cU">obsidian mirror</a>, probably seized by a Spanish conquistador from an Aztec priest in Mexico.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNB7JqEnnAdA5puVNcjiyxOkJC8EWg5dMX6imWpgJT-sdq1ipja5Rw1UtaabG_Mt3JTVMhGEh6ZqdXv5RHd66aMNoFcIprKNIeZynid03Ru2Gbc-Nc8sRufrfPMyKZKoGcXifjIkxQarW/s1600/John+Dee+crystal+ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNB7JqEnnAdA5puVNcjiyxOkJC8EWg5dMX6imWpgJT-sdq1ipja5Rw1UtaabG_Mt3JTVMhGEh6ZqdXv5RHd66aMNoFcIprKNIeZynid03Ru2Gbc-Nc8sRufrfPMyKZKoGcXifjIkxQarW/s320/John+Dee+crystal+ball.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crystal ball, believed to have been owned by John Dee. Photo: British Museum (non-commercial license CC-BY-NC-SA 4.0).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLpaAzD8rJino8rFDoWnciUg68uWaDR8stKp9RBseX9zLnV_IxKr1yuvphnFyW3kvKrKAsa0yl2vYXmCoA2trGDPeZj6Pp2hpQN5XBi09tyl2S6vodRdUTtY2q1nEQPJB8z0qO2aUiDvlC/s1600/John_Dee%2527s_Seal_of_God.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1160" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLpaAzD8rJino8rFDoWnciUg68uWaDR8stKp9RBseX9zLnV_IxKr1yuvphnFyW3kvKrKAsa0yl2vYXmCoA2trGDPeZj6Pp2hpQN5XBi09tyl2S6vodRdUTtY2q1nEQPJB8z0qO2aUiDvlC/s320/John_Dee%2527s_Seal_of_God.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Seal of God," believed once to have been owned by John Dee. Photo: Geni (licensed under GNU).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxI2i3FggbUqMx-MDtaouElTXIfBqu06O6HV9CdhBF7J3sFCRm3guW1hDrBYwFVGTf8DHYKnoDUIyMIJr76hI8fud97bUwlg_7n2elb16CvrnOFoSvZlhMXU0nZf0XGIYxyiNFVI2D2X1/s1600/Corpus_Hermeticum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="420" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxI2i3FggbUqMx-MDtaouElTXIfBqu06O6HV9CdhBF7J3sFCRm3guW1hDrBYwFVGTf8DHYKnoDUIyMIJr76hI8fud97bUwlg_7n2elb16CvrnOFoSvZlhMXU0nZf0XGIYxyiNFVI2D2X1/s320/Corpus_Hermeticum.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Corpus Hermeticum," translated from Greek to Latin by Marsilio Ficino in 1471 (image is in the Public Domain). Thought by Ficino, and by his patron, Cosimo de Medici, to have been written by an ancient Egyptian sage, the original is probably a Roman forgery of the 1st Century AD. Ficino's translation was a key source for Dee's occult experimentation.</td></tr>
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Peter Ackroyd's novel, The House of Doctor Dee, brings together two London-based stories, both narrated in the first person: the first by a fictional modern character, Matthew Palmer; and the second by John Dee himself. The connection between them arises from Palmer's inheritance, from his father, of a house that once belonged to Dee (although Ackroyd uses artistic license to move this from Mortlake to Clerkenwell - nothing, in fact, remains of Dee's actual home). The worlds of the Sixteenth and Twentieth Centuries come together, as Palmer researches and imagines the ghosts of London Past; and Dee divines and imagines those of London Yet to Come.<br />
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"<i>But why was I thinking about these people, as I sat in the house at Clerkenwell? They were no more than phantoms conjured up out of my weakness, their voices less real to me than the shape of this ground-floor room and the texture of its thick stone walls ... I heard myself talking into the air in my sudden exaltation: 'Let the dead bury their dead' ... Then I noticed something ... And there came upon me a curious fear - that there were, somehow, shadows where no shadows should have been. No, they were not shadows. They were patterns in the dust, caught suddenly in the changing light of that summer's evening</i>."<br />
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"<i>We were so close to the waterside that we would take our quadrant ... down Water Lane to Blackfriars Stairs where, among the barges and the herring buses, we called out 'Westward! Westward! until one of the passing watermen noticed us. The wherry took us by the open fields beside Lambeth Marsh where, with the quadrant established upon firm earth, we would make various observations of the sun's progress. Sometimes, coming or going, we were close to falling into the Thames over head and ears with the cumbersomeness of the quadrant, but we always escaped onto dry ground ... There were sly citizens who were accustomed to call us sorcerers or magicians for all this measuring ... 'They had nothing to do with what is vulgarly called magic.' I took more wine to consume the fire within me. 'Mine are wonderful sciences, greatly aiding our dim sight for the better view of God's power and goodness. I am, by profession, a scholar, sir, and not some magician or mountebank.</i>'"<br />
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"<i>Now look upon this. Look upon the world without love. I awoke and found myself in as black a night as I have ever known; but I was not in my chamber. I was walking abroad, with the help of a lantern and candle, and now stood below the wall of the city. The stone rose before me like the face of that idol discovered in the Devonshire mines, yet as I raised my lantern I saw all the wrinkles, cracks, crevices and flaws that lay within the ancient stones ... I passed in through the More Gate even as there came the sound of a horn, and one blown with such force that the echo redoubled again in the dark London air. I knew these streets so well that without any light I could have made my way but, when I put up my lantern by All Allowes in the Wall, I saw many citizens walking slowly through the lane there in long gowns and velvet coats. Each one held a wax candle lighted in his hands, and sighed continually as if his bowels might break ... Why did they walk and moan continually, down Wormwood Street and Broad Street?</i>"<br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
<br />Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-14766945509394067182018-05-10T07:36:00.000-07:002018-05-10T11:39:01.248-07:00The Streets of Old Lambeth: Brixton - From Countryside to "Inner City"A visitor to London, exploring the Borough of Lambeth, and having arrived at <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2018/04/the-streets-of-old-lambeth-vauxhall.html">Vauxhall Bridge</a>, can turn southward, and cross the roundabout to Vauxhall Underground Station. From here, on the Victoria Line, it is just two stops to our penultimate port-of-call within the borough, Brixton.<br />
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In the Eighteenth Century, Brixton was open countryside, producing food for the London markets, and known, especially, for its strawberries. There is even a windmill, close to the station, built in 1816, at just the time that the whole character of the district was set to change, prompted by the construction of Vauxhall Bridge, which opened the area up to commuters. The houses built by developed along Brixton Road and Brixton Hill, and on the roads leading off from them, attracted wealthy residents: Whitehall civil servants; proprietors of West End shops; City solicitors and architects.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqBvOk66dZcUNFWxGsk9sTLpoGV0gmpKeWGO-wHwzTa39gXlo5PsKdnpN2UBfGukWR8y4dvWHPQ9nArVXAo0l3gnwfMHzynr7ciFL0sTnG7vgDg_TEhQcN_ZPXW3E4kfkpJkxG-mm7_yXa/s1600/Brixton_Hundred.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="640" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqBvOk66dZcUNFWxGsk9sTLpoGV0gmpKeWGO-wHwzTa39gXlo5PsKdnpN2UBfGukWR8y4dvWHPQ9nArVXAo0l3gnwfMHzynr7ciFL0sTnG7vgDg_TEhQcN_ZPXW3E4kfkpJkxG-mm7_yXa/s400/Brixton_Hundred.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Brixton "Hundred" in 1760, by Eman Bowen (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEd6QcYzuciNQU7k4bz_JEJdmcbKruWyZhyN1jzw8pz1A0PVZxSxUS9dijqMax0zGTy660HVYDXtzK1767DUc1A7LHAjfNFXgPrCgURtkHQmfWV0c6KyqFWLbb3jpDlR22hVMD8mB2vJg/s1600/Ashby%2527s_mill_1864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEd6QcYzuciNQU7k4bz_JEJdmcbKruWyZhyN1jzw8pz1A0PVZxSxUS9dijqMax0zGTy660HVYDXtzK1767DUc1A7LHAjfNFXgPrCgURtkHQmfWV0c6KyqFWLbb3jpDlR22hVMD8mB2vJg/s1600/Ashby%2527s_mill_1864.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashby's Mill, Brixton, in 1864 (it was built in 1816) - image is in the Public Domain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSeD4nD4q0XMLbD0v3mT8aGv_3DzpPKUeRVn2toduw76KBven3rDiwHllEbwB6zvi4PMLMBgl3uOkZkBD69_NVy1-OCPbhMeAPnoOES0HhuFHUz1JddbS2tppnWnvfb478Q_6uhpHGdmv/s1600/tate-library-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="620" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSeD4nD4q0XMLbD0v3mT8aGv_3DzpPKUeRVn2toduw76KBven3rDiwHllEbwB6zvi4PMLMBgl3uOkZkBD69_NVy1-OCPbhMeAPnoOES0HhuFHUz1JddbS2tppnWnvfb478Q_6uhpHGdmv/s320/tate-library-13.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheep grazing on Rush Common, 1892, close to the site of the Tate Library (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisxDi7OfYz5YZwnlDDjtP2EA5MaaSJDrYA_xqCfOqVbDZaPUA5gpuifmul5LAxdBSI5tkK6D8_Wld2D2FDwWKfB7oxnYo27Efpcvu92CGZh6qX4C9_GzPllOLNdCb67D654gAQD02MaZG/s1600/Brixton_Road_from_Acre_Lane%252C_Winter_1883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="1199" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisxDi7OfYz5YZwnlDDjtP2EA5MaaSJDrYA_xqCfOqVbDZaPUA5gpuifmul5LAxdBSI5tkK6D8_Wld2D2FDwWKfB7oxnYo27Efpcvu92CGZh6qX4C9_GzPllOLNdCb67D654gAQD02MaZG/s320/Brixton_Road_from_Acre_Lane%252C_Winter_1883.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brixton Road from Acre Lane, 1883. Photo: Lambeth Archives (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNlTTlh-xVc85TlCbHXC5S5F-J5QzMMN_PJtfRBplQmpKi3sZO0davGYOW8xsCJy46jDn58TnGcrCm2WzKNfwsrUwreCVNGhRMGx7sFmOCovz0pqXx0n-Xr1wpgppOqroHPaamCSayJGb/s1600/White_Horse_public_house%252C_Brixton_Road%252C_1907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1200" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNlTTlh-xVc85TlCbHXC5S5F-J5QzMMN_PJtfRBplQmpKi3sZO0davGYOW8xsCJy46jDn58TnGcrCm2WzKNfwsrUwreCVNGhRMGx7sFmOCovz0pqXx0n-Xr1wpgppOqroHPaamCSayJGb/s320/White_Horse_public_house%252C_Brixton_Road%252C_1907.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brixton Road, 1907 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The arrival of the Chatham, London, and Dover Railway in the second half of the Nineteenth Century provided a further boost to the burgeoning suburbs: in 1880, Brixton's Electric Avenue became the first street in London to be lit by electricity; and residents soon had the benefits of a public library (courtesy of the sugar magnate and philanthropist, Sir Henry Tate); and one of the first purpose-built cinemas in England (then the Electric Pavilion, now the Ritzy).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8XbTj-dcZ8eqrTAX7yJxlvujyW5BJQJULTWb3QEVtW8sWknEuYI7tSZod0S1_W9p1Qk4bAyblI7xTWwNssOYjvrRBkaJp3bfG4E_lf7anFEhUzEV-nUd0R2B-H-cBMBCtZj3njh1mhnP/s1600/Electric_Avenue_by_Baron_Corvo%252C_The_Sketch%252C_1895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="676" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8XbTj-dcZ8eqrTAX7yJxlvujyW5BJQJULTWb3QEVtW8sWknEuYI7tSZod0S1_W9p1Qk4bAyblI7xTWwNssOYjvrRBkaJp3bfG4E_lf7anFEhUzEV-nUd0R2B-H-cBMBCtZj3njh1mhnP/s320/Electric_Avenue_by_Baron_Corvo%252C_The_Sketch%252C_1895.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Electric Avenue, Brixton, in 1895. Photo by Frederick Rolfe (image is in the Public Domain)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfEDw6tiooEakrQSc8-AfeBuVdE3NutVjMK7py_ipdDoRaMz6jojRakyMCOZGuWvvI-ZVV8TCOFIRmZ_GjHs4xHHiJq1hecstZLXo3HZfX78ttEG3MUkd7vQSXCzeUIE5Uvm3_QHmYR4_/s1600/tate-library-postcard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="620" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfEDw6tiooEakrQSc8-AfeBuVdE3NutVjMK7py_ipdDoRaMz6jojRakyMCOZGuWvvI-ZVV8TCOFIRmZ_GjHs4xHHiJq1hecstZLXo3HZfX78ttEG3MUkd7vQSXCzeUIE5Uvm3_QHmYR4_/s320/tate-library-postcard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tate Library, Brixton (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9TvJ7PIrgYHSCKdU3dN33dPJekZ88X7JEtm7sIuIq9LtuJVH-0iFHZ3PP1m9MlHnlbo9Uc_f3G-Gz-BPjflUUDkKN3KFS1PlP0fkVSDWlvSVvSFctnF-SimDgtNVv5S2WeJMzTnZwN62p/s1600/tate-library-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="619" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9TvJ7PIrgYHSCKdU3dN33dPJekZ88X7JEtm7sIuIq9LtuJVH-0iFHZ3PP1m9MlHnlbo9Uc_f3G-Gz-BPjflUUDkKN3KFS1PlP0fkVSDWlvSVvSFctnF-SimDgtNVv5S2WeJMzTnZwN62p/s320/tate-library-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The arrival of the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) to open Brixton's Tate Library, 1893 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_P-y1hndGnFsjAOG0Z_h793G3_-xtzFGjVSqFBBb1eONTH2H9yTYtdxIX6KMYIMgngNWE2rgCelm5WVl34z8XtvknCbfOj2b2Jj0HAn2Gr1uehVlc_FkwXVoqKIEsxv5-w0O1lD9L_apg/s1600/tate-library-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="620" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_P-y1hndGnFsjAOG0Z_h793G3_-xtzFGjVSqFBBb1eONTH2H9yTYtdxIX6KMYIMgngNWE2rgCelm5WVl34z8XtvknCbfOj2b2Jj0HAn2Gr1uehVlc_FkwXVoqKIEsxv5-w0O1lD9L_apg/s320/tate-library-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The upper reading room of the Tate Library (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycIeK-MGUcBUIASybXkW37XIb063h5v92jCGohvlsXrxgZzg8UZHHxUH_sE-VU9jPrAKa-wicsUAs70YIe9uok7WwndbHkw0UpMbQ0lfUZbjde6z0X5JIGvcEFuDgSiHbwAf4H8gbfyKo/s1600/Brixton_1889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="607" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycIeK-MGUcBUIASybXkW37XIb063h5v92jCGohvlsXrxgZzg8UZHHxUH_sE-VU9jPrAKa-wicsUAs70YIe9uok7WwndbHkw0UpMbQ0lfUZbjde6z0X5JIGvcEFuDgSiHbwAf4H8gbfyKo/s400/Brixton_1889.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles Booth's (1889) "Poverty Map" of Brixton, but there is little poverty here: Yellow indicates "upper middle class;" red "lower middle class;" and pink "fairly comfortable, good, ordinary earnings." Image is in the Public Domain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGsr-K_RJWkCZfeguc1Ro40wyZqlBNc8ja7EdEsQjZU_kNJAj-8ZmHMii6UDCkGF6dfX5mH6hEyEz9SREhLdO8hLSX5fbEhAmGQpFry6XBYcRBtJ2pr4OZrPkFlMHSeEaR_kuhTZErpg3/s1600/RitzyCinemaBrixton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="502" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGsr-K_RJWkCZfeguc1Ro40wyZqlBNc8ja7EdEsQjZU_kNJAj-8ZmHMii6UDCkGF6dfX5mH6hEyEz9SREhLdO8hLSX5fbEhAmGQpFry6XBYcRBtJ2pr4OZrPkFlMHSeEaR_kuhTZErpg3/s320/RitzyCinemaBrixton.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ritzy Cinema, Brixton. Photo: C. Ford (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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By the early years of the Twentieth Century, however, wealthier residents were moving further out from the centre of London, into leafier suburbs. Many of Brixton's grand houses were subdivided into flats, and some fell into disrepair. Others suffered bomb damage in both World Wars.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Xa0Aiz1_jO3vk6aTMgMvslnu5SOwamdPrZkL-3rtpJh8LcgUfrzZQn_OoGdZe3urO9Pu6dczYAW2kBGlycFCUUGCnyNhtbqkQcUHfQeHkZZ33b8M_rNWxdgSzZuHtZvonQAeMrJONQGb/s1600/Brixton_bombing_damage_1916_IWM_HO_98.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="642" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Xa0Aiz1_jO3vk6aTMgMvslnu5SOwamdPrZkL-3rtpJh8LcgUfrzZQn_OoGdZe3urO9Pu6dczYAW2kBGlycFCUUGCnyNhtbqkQcUHfQeHkZZ33b8M_rNWxdgSzZuHtZvonQAeMrJONQGb/s320/Brixton_bombing_damage_1916_IWM_HO_98.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bomb damage in Brixton, following a raid by German airships, September 1916. Photo: Imperial War Museum H098 (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
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In the aftermath of the Second World War, a new wave of immigrants arrived in Britain from the Commonwealth territories of the Caribbean. Many had fought on the British side in the war, but they now returned to fill an acute labour shortage in the British Isles. 492 of these people arrived in London on the steamship, the Empire Windrush, in June 1948. They were initially accommodated in the Clapham South Deep Shelter (which had served as a bomb shelter during the Blitz), and, since the closest labour exchange was in Brixton's Coldharbour Lane, and cheap rental properties were available nearby, many settled in Brixton, finding work in the National Health Service, and in London's transport infrastructure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit8bGnEyKo9YdbsvpauvtSLaKpi9bpiSI2qo6uGPCkBM41KvC7fQOtxcbgd8dg3Ybr_mtan6Wm0eF9FYm2BdyUki2iE3gBNhjoFrKHWyITVYLwaxRMVGkKalK-xuIqHNHRFqblCF3wtX_n/s1600/West_Indians_in_Britain_during_the_Second_World_War_CH11478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="611" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit8bGnEyKo9YdbsvpauvtSLaKpi9bpiSI2qo6uGPCkBM41KvC7fQOtxcbgd8dg3Ybr_mtan6Wm0eF9FYm2BdyUki2iE3gBNhjoFrKHWyITVYLwaxRMVGkKalK-xuIqHNHRFqblCF3wtX_n/s320/West_Indians_in_Britain_during_the_Second_World_War_CH11478.jpg" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">West Indian airmen in the Second World War. Photo: Imperial War Museum (non-commercial license) CH11478.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkc4QfMkYt6kP-WANEfDzV-4U1_p66sNLZYCcu6PHFKItBwy3mTQIe8yw550Q-yz5Xzr8HtmA7IrBDYzF4MeAHfNBmHH8ExKxPetOZRJaWqpsiOEJSNRADGhGFX9svERfzSA-_jGJ85eir/s1600/West_Indians_in_Britain_during_the_Second_World_War_D21361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="769" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkc4QfMkYt6kP-WANEfDzV-4U1_p66sNLZYCcu6PHFKItBwy3mTQIe8yw550Q-yz5Xzr8HtmA7IrBDYzF4MeAHfNBmHH8ExKxPetOZRJaWqpsiOEJSNRADGhGFX9svERfzSA-_jGJ85eir/s320/West_Indians_in_Britain_during_the_Second_World_War_D21361.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A reception at the Colonial Office for West Indian women of the ATS, hosted by the Duke of Devonshire (foreground, centre). Photo: Imperial War Museum (non-commercial license) D21361.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRD3ITWIBgFeW5rXTrF0_fozeVZeTPH6xkz75NuQzie9Olxnb-4kKuQ5UEvHM06VeQMLpoH3hVXCGPetnzJ5DI9BQ5EbDULYWj8Qk_URzJOSms8ZpQ7zQVPDgOz5csDmnXtqcvkdXDEPCS/s1600/Windrush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="332" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRD3ITWIBgFeW5rXTrF0_fozeVZeTPH6xkz75NuQzie9Olxnb-4kKuQ5UEvHM06VeQMLpoH3hVXCGPetnzJ5DI9BQ5EbDULYWj8Qk_URzJOSms8ZpQ7zQVPDgOz5csDmnXtqcvkdXDEPCS/s320/Windrush.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Empire Windrush. Photo: Michael Griffin (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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In fact, the Windrush was only ever a symbol (albeit a powerful one) for a wider social and cultural phenomenon. Its arrival did not mark the beginning of Caribbean immigration to the British Isles (around 15,000 West Indians had worked in Britain's munitions factories during the First World War), and many more immigrants arrived, over the coming years, on subsequent crossings, or by air. Many were shocked by the racism that they encountered in England, with politicians, such as Enoch Powell, and, later, neo-Fascist organisations such as the National Front and British National Party, whipping up fear and hatred of anyone who was not white.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5UTQ7I_Zc0rJvcm4lHK2ukQZZ-bhLGmm3BdtyihVsFzbWiG8o9W5H2-H8nPRqq4diHkjdkY51NNhAEhZy4LmK7_1czfBVTA-HLzPakPTYCmr4tWHwyUNHT93MhnZJ670Xw7Gf1pM4rsFN/s1600/nurses-in-london-1954-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="460" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5UTQ7I_Zc0rJvcm4lHK2ukQZZ-bhLGmm3BdtyihVsFzbWiG8o9W5H2-H8nPRqq4diHkjdkY51NNhAEhZy4LmK7_1czfBVTA-HLzPakPTYCmr4tWHwyUNHT93MhnZJ670Xw7Gf1pM4rsFN/s320/nurses-in-london-1954-007.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nurses in London, 1954 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU62v1ATAQgIJOWw9SEBi3PexZeHRMjjY5Wc8n5YVWtlU6J5hogKbjlpkTgWlev8zd8yMIC3OBHQnQ9a1OYrDm5bLCVYgUln606onZZeTKOZNSL1jzsX1DeTUiy_0AbFYUYb44XxxkWkpa/s1600/West+Indian+family+Brixton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU62v1ATAQgIJOWw9SEBi3PexZeHRMjjY5Wc8n5YVWtlU6J5hogKbjlpkTgWlev8zd8yMIC3OBHQnQ9a1OYrDm5bLCVYgUln606onZZeTKOZNSL1jzsX1DeTUiy_0AbFYUYb44XxxkWkpa/s320/West+Indian+family+Brixton.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A West Indian family in Brixton, 1950s (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Over the course of the 1970s, Brixton became increasingly impoverished. The term "inner city" (which never referred, as one might expect, to the Cities of London or Westminster, but rather to the run-down residential suburbs, with high immigrant populations) became associated with urban decay, poor housing, and high unemployment and crime. All of these factors contributed to the riots that broke out in Brixton in April, 1981, but the spark was ignited by "Operation Swamp," a Police initiative to crack down on street crime, making extensive use of the "Sus Law," allowing them to stop and search people at will. This law was applied in a blatantly discriminatory way, with the public humiliation of young black people by a Police force that was overwhelmingly white. Over the course of a number of days, several hundred people were injured; more than 150 buildings damaged; and 100 vehicles burned.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOPG3AOVhj69T5cIMeow5IUBRB-Ns-S-CGXLCCvucXE728XY3DZkUF89YuW_mcfKD_5RoyfD1HSbjdFCSKdvVcEruHEuyAnerqQb1L63ftz06VgJBdt3sgJNcI9IeRtNQDbepPckrL8_w_/s1600/1981_Brixton_Riots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="850" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOPG3AOVhj69T5cIMeow5IUBRB-Ns-S-CGXLCCvucXE728XY3DZkUF89YuW_mcfKD_5RoyfD1HSbjdFCSKdvVcEruHEuyAnerqQb1L63ftz06VgJBdt3sgJNcI9IeRtNQDbepPckrL8_w_/s400/1981_Brixton_Riots.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Th 1981 Brixton riots. Photo: Kim Aldis (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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In the decades that have followed, Brixton has been extensively regenerated, and efforts made to heal the wounds. The reform of the Metropolitan Police happened more slowly than many would have wished, but it is now a very different organisation to that whose officers struggled to force their way along Brixton High Street in 1981. Black and Caribbean culture are celebrated in Brixton, yet the shadow of racism has not altogether been swept away. The British Home Secretary was recently forced to resign, over a scandal in which Caribbean immigrants of the "Windrush Generation" were denied access to essential services, and, in some cases, threatened with deportation, because they found themselves unable to prove their right to remain in a country in which most of them have worked and paid taxes for the whole of their adult lives. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEige_w1Z6ETo9GdaJySeP0Nzeg2fAtKExnbOHDEqhrr6z7-Ew331uoUv1Li3KIYDe57MKDAR_FAFmcP2py5P3D1Fy9wJm7gXg24WgnYgFiWe6zSByv0JovbAsNH4sFGFibbUW_Mfsjzrcja/s1600/TheWindmillMural.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="500" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEige_w1Z6ETo9GdaJySeP0Nzeg2fAtKExnbOHDEqhrr6z7-Ew331uoUv1Li3KIYDe57MKDAR_FAFmcP2py5P3D1Fy9wJm7gXg24WgnYgFiWe6zSByv0JovbAsNH4sFGFibbUW_Mfsjzrcja/s320/TheWindmillMural.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural, celebrating Brixton's rural past, by artists Mick Harrion and C. Thorp. Photo: Leticia Golubov (lemanja75, licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitI06-ZOynm0mB-FKRiJEJhLrbUVU7a4dazwvwknLHCJUlBzCvTFtd0OzWXHDnlG9_3E4SuEq70cWNXw1a58VmFOWUAvKNVQOmJg7ScJgvavX1PQ9JKf0wlEYGRzjYdKLgRNMayJEU3IM4/s1600/Brixtonstationmural2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="281" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitI06-ZOynm0mB-FKRiJEJhLrbUVU7a4dazwvwknLHCJUlBzCvTFtd0OzWXHDnlG9_3E4SuEq70cWNXw1a58VmFOWUAvKNVQOmJg7ScJgvavX1PQ9JKf0wlEYGRzjYdKLgRNMayJEU3IM4/s400/Brixtonstationmural2.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural at Brixton Station, by artists Karen Smith and Angie Biltcliffe. Photo: Leticia Golubov (lemanja 75), licensed under CCA.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi803qlRY8RvD4hEAHtGaz8U5pA3q53OFhKWWaDwYb1PK1JY0JI0sXVn3Si1-YNNnAWlVqI2m9OV7OCXlqr5yISBXnD3DHGKoBh5vAif9H1zgYr0pnoAEzCzyviyOJtvewyePDu4y3-1NeW/s1600/Lambeth_Town_Hall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1034" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi803qlRY8RvD4hEAHtGaz8U5pA3q53OFhKWWaDwYb1PK1JY0JI0sXVn3Si1-YNNnAWlVqI2m9OV7OCXlqr5yISBXnD3DHGKoBh5vAif9H1zgYr0pnoAEzCzyviyOJtvewyePDu4y3-1NeW/s320/Lambeth_Town_Hall.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lambeth Town Hall, Brixton, opened 1908. Photo: Steve Cadman (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcjCOMSmSEF6_IQPOy_NpuaO2_Pgz46zSHJvKzrgab5a4gJFa_0vypsKW-BCTzHMY9cZ6EMMHAA1TkdH8F3-lWBNWicQY21SNJabHrdlPl_XUUJv-VL1-SoidurLK7fW9gL7zlerLSpp2/s1600/Windrush_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcjCOMSmSEF6_IQPOy_NpuaO2_Pgz46zSHJvKzrgab5a4gJFa_0vypsKW-BCTzHMY9cZ6EMMHAA1TkdH8F3-lWBNWicQY21SNJabHrdlPl_XUUJv-VL1-SoidurLK7fW9gL7zlerLSpp2/s320/Windrush_2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windrush Square, Brixton. Photo: Felix-felix (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>. Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-42083173043966877672018-04-29T07:25:00.000-07:002019-07-28T00:19:18.342-07:00Impressionists in LondonA major exhibition currently open at Tate Britain highlights the London works of a group of (mainly) French painters living in London in the second half of the Nineteenth Century. Not all of the works on display are, in the strictest sense, "Impressionist:" there are Impressionist masterpieces by some of the best known figures of the movement, such as Claude Monet and Camille Pissarro; but there are also works by members of their extended social circle, such as James Tissot, who are not conventionally regarded as "Impressionists;" and works by non-French artists, such as the American, James Abbott McNeill Whistler, who were, to a greater or lesser extent, influenced by the movement in general, and, more specifically, by their own social contacts with its key members. Together, these artists furnish us with a distinctive pictorial vision of late Victorian London, its outlying residential districts as well as the city's most prominent landmarks.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjn-l4lxDdK5nE_gCrERyO6CsbQZXwrhMIsNVdoD6NQoX86wNbS0rdQmrOvSdwwwmvWc3sk-UodSw0-0xRs1zTIhvCvgAc4aZ5dOPt8ZgLHmSfdtlEBsRUwEoD38OyBrCxi1ubNyaAOcM6/s1600/Claude_Monet_-_Houses_of_Parliament%252C_London.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="888" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjn-l4lxDdK5nE_gCrERyO6CsbQZXwrhMIsNVdoD6NQoX86wNbS0rdQmrOvSdwwwmvWc3sk-UodSw0-0xRs1zTIhvCvgAc4aZ5dOPt8ZgLHmSfdtlEBsRUwEoD38OyBrCxi1ubNyaAOcM6/s400/Claude_Monet_-_Houses_of_Parliament%252C_London.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Houses of Parliament, by Claude Monet, 1900-1901, Art Institute of Chicago (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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The subtitle of the exhibition is "French Artists in Exile, 1870-1904," and its starting point is the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71, which devastated much of France. The Siege of Paris, in particular, which lasted from September 1870 to January 1871, left large areas of the capital in ruins, and its population on the brink of starvation. Many French people, including the artists, Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro, and James Tissot; together with the art-dealer, Paul Durand-Ruel (who sold many of their works to American collectors), found a welcome in London.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9pedMg3b2kWDKH3hVadErqsuAjRg2OtO18cY64F5zRL66rJNQayXfko3NqGEFLVDkqrGJcKgXR5HZ9AeL_736oZpxR9hfG4W8oui6QBA3CYWSXTEGlj6WWw-G83rYnMNy8sMJxqEAppl/s1600/Saint+Cloud+Franco-Prussian+War.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="751" data-original-width="911" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9pedMg3b2kWDKH3hVadErqsuAjRg2OtO18cY64F5zRL66rJNQayXfko3NqGEFLVDkqrGJcKgXR5HZ9AeL_736oZpxR9hfG4W8oui6QBA3CYWSXTEGlj6WWw-G83rYnMNy8sMJxqEAppl/s400/Saint+Cloud+Franco-Prussian+War.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The devastated district of Saint-Cloud, Adolphe Braun (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMKHmwOX6if7K9Vcw5240xU8daMEAQ3n720iw90Z1bnJfROkOubcTn9KNXnXIKBEN2L9GR1qBJzEvzbv7Eo7nTBULpRqzxCxGfjaVgVF2IbWvjmIyPZSbWx9nePnjBA1kVgtriLAXzeknO/s1600/Menu-siegedeparis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="605" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMKHmwOX6if7K9Vcw5240xU8daMEAQ3n720iw90Z1bnJfROkOubcTn9KNXnXIKBEN2L9GR1qBJzEvzbv7Eo7nTBULpRqzxCxGfjaVgVF2IbWvjmIyPZSbWx9nePnjBA1kVgtriLAXzeknO/s400/Menu-siegedeparis.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parisian restaurant menu for Christmas Day, 1870. Some of the meat had been procured from the city zoo, and delicacies available for those who could afford them included stuffed donkey head; elephant consume; rib of bear; and haunch of wolf.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoKF5HR0MEO73I2klRkajFgYXg_5BWGfTMPKdgDUUfAR8bj2Cme5_x4F-qtzuUIpW_Lyyc1WBnoYlPlv5EfRcHl-1o4iIdU5LXCkt1383zIgpGMM-RXtm0mogmjmk5e9MWClgYndWJt1T/s1600/Paul+Durand-Ruel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoKF5HR0MEO73I2klRkajFgYXg_5BWGfTMPKdgDUUfAR8bj2Cme5_x4F-qtzuUIpW_Lyyc1WBnoYlPlv5EfRcHl-1o4iIdU5LXCkt1383zIgpGMM-RXtm0mogmjmk5e9MWClgYndWJt1T/s320/Paul+Durand-Ruel.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The art-dealer, Paul Durand-Ruel, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1910. </td></tr>
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The war itself was followed by a left-wing uprising, the Paris Commune, which was violently suppressed by the right wing government of the Third Republic. Some of the artists, including Tissot, had direct or indirect links to the uprising, and preferred exile to the reprisals that they feared at home. For its part, the British government and people seem to have had few concerns about the influx of refugees, welcoming the contributions that they made to the nation's cultural life, whilst keeping tabs on any who might be tempted to stir up political dissent within Britain.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjNi1PKiw_gh9UHuSfyXdtTVmZ37az8yIJ22QSvALxjteQqnbstbH6vNOnyFHo5WCUFYi1W4YeW06VXMfU5xBoas16XnSD-NJooDMO-e9wiFsDUGu0apIHjBOOuHUxQ4b3IyCXRjvH-1h/s1600/Barricade+Rue+de+Rivoli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="846" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjNi1PKiw_gh9UHuSfyXdtTVmZ37az8yIJ22QSvALxjteQqnbstbH6vNOnyFHo5WCUFYi1W4YeW06VXMfU5xBoas16XnSD-NJooDMO-e9wiFsDUGu0apIHjBOOuHUxQ4b3IyCXRjvH-1h/s400/Barricade+Rue+de+Rivoli.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barricades in the Rue de Rivoli, Pierre-Ambroise Richebourg, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (284087 - licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsc3VF8qI45dWlWWNZGO6ON0B2kv4irwnhUbzw88Jc0-sN_8CTxWjafVC-AIXeOVa9d_i-zRGPkR10ky74yQ7wohmo7yo_7bsIBF7NOBtt3wLESH_Yfuk6y9_vmkc0_dm8cvAd9ujZx0s/s1600/James_Tissot_-_Holyday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="1109" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsc3VF8qI45dWlWWNZGO6ON0B2kv4irwnhUbzw88Jc0-sN_8CTxWjafVC-AIXeOVa9d_i-zRGPkR10ky74yQ7wohmo7yo_7bsIBF7NOBtt3wLESH_Yfuk6y9_vmkc0_dm8cvAd9ujZx0s/s400/James_Tissot_-_Holyday.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Holyday," by James Tissot, 1876 (private collection, image is in the Public Domain). Tissot established a studio in fashionable Saint John's Wood, with iced Champagne available in the waiting room.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XLepmYfKfIPK1CPt4z0D7CSAnWyHROzOOGVzKy-Apw1W2O1NxF-57fLYOxx-BnwpqeoCeTA2ehQJY4IKNrvYANnm9AqQnh3TcS_rw4AaCaNcGFUbkBYyetx-I9HgRtjWUhijvqKta9bC/s1600/Bath_Road%252C_London_by_Camille_Pissarro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1108" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XLepmYfKfIPK1CPt4z0D7CSAnWyHROzOOGVzKy-Apw1W2O1NxF-57fLYOxx-BnwpqeoCeTA2ehQJY4IKNrvYANnm9AqQnh3TcS_rw4AaCaNcGFUbkBYyetx-I9HgRtjWUhijvqKta9bC/s400/Bath_Road%252C_London_by_Camille_Pissarro.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bath Road, Chiswick, by Camille Pissarro, 1897, Ashmolean Museum (WA 1951.225.4 - image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVog7yVaJuh6UxRDQddSIO0O6SsB6IeVlu_gDmaS-WeRe0ZIFfCEoZb_Xah_5SYqdJwa1-Df4sSeisLGTJbI1xGDMGNKJ80qrsG-8fZ_1CEFQCzvjzmlOOnupkUQy6_ixq8CNFtCq11Ja1/s1600/Pissarro%25E2%2580%2594Old_Chelsea_Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="900" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVog7yVaJuh6UxRDQddSIO0O6SsB6IeVlu_gDmaS-WeRe0ZIFfCEoZb_Xah_5SYqdJwa1-Df4sSeisLGTJbI1xGDMGNKJ80qrsG-8fZ_1CEFQCzvjzmlOOnupkUQy6_ixq8CNFtCq11Ja1/s400/Pissarro%25E2%2580%2594Old_Chelsea_Bridge.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Chelsea Bridge (actually Battersea Bridge), by Camille Pissarro, Smith College Museum of Art (image is in the Public Domain). </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh3OCu7ZdOfQ0COUhJ3MKs8znm8pWDFsbAu_oXLUVIbFy5UKn5lsiLJ7272jB0m8Zki6GA7Px64ffcAl3963nstEeGT6b10mskv8RhS7-ZfK2sngIyVOd_rpeK877iNnCq9dJE4yjzGjf/s1600/Whistler+Battersea+Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="681" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh3OCu7ZdOfQ0COUhJ3MKs8znm8pWDFsbAu_oXLUVIbFy5UKn5lsiLJ7272jB0m8Zki6GA7Px64ffcAl3963nstEeGT6b10mskv8RhS7-ZfK2sngIyVOd_rpeK877iNnCq9dJE4yjzGjf/s400/Whistler+Battersea+Bridge.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nocturne in Blue and Gold, Battersea Bridge, by James Abbott McNeill Whistler, Tate Collection (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5QlXammr0hQoUbbBwYoA7xBhukpcuhLUe44oVPx-V2ah4FjQJ41tZ5I88eeZmtw2-yaOUXj0IkTJ2aTrobNQvZ0s3yn163NJAMpUmmatr6sEZmT3krEmmSUgYintNYRhFtT4a2nGViHd/s1600/Alfred_Sisley_-_Molesey_Weir%252C_Hampton_Court_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="888" data-original-width="1199" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5QlXammr0hQoUbbBwYoA7xBhukpcuhLUe44oVPx-V2ah4FjQJ41tZ5I88eeZmtw2-yaOUXj0IkTJ2aTrobNQvZ0s3yn163NJAMpUmmatr6sEZmT3krEmmSUgYintNYRhFtT4a2nGViHd/s400/Alfred_Sisley_-_Molesey_Weir%252C_Hampton_Court_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Molesey Weir (near Hampton Court), by Alfred Sisley, National Gallery of Scotland (Na 2235 - image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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For many of the artists, their stay in London as refugees, however brief, was the beginning of a long association with Britain. Claude Monet's most famous images of the capital, for example, were created not by the penniless thirty-year-old refugee, but by the mature (and financially successful) artist, who returned three decades later, staying and dining in the luxury of the Savoy Hotel.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnmAMi7NDRNFwisR8mK38qOsiLWY3Zl_GufoCmpMugawLsRmtjGK9YqidOV9lMSkYyn3tnsieULQu-TutgAN8JGKnDv3dNMXiP_IFlyfBbegAnbjnkQ2AUhiNEb-IphfDpzyIQIzSgeLZ/s1600/Claude_Monet_-_Charing_Cross_Bridge_%2528Saint_Louis%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="1037" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnmAMi7NDRNFwisR8mK38qOsiLWY3Zl_GufoCmpMugawLsRmtjGK9YqidOV9lMSkYyn3tnsieULQu-TutgAN8JGKnDv3dNMXiP_IFlyfBbegAnbjnkQ2AUhiNEb-IphfDpzyIQIzSgeLZ/s400/Claude_Monet_-_Charing_Cross_Bridge_%2528Saint_Louis%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charing Cross Bridge, by Claude Monet, 1899-1901, Saint Louis Art Museum (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYFx_-S761j8KUvlmmAk_cb9Op3j9B67IL4G4o6cWZAQWH0-Atsz8In4z819vlEMrTRTgzd7vilhMHpodjRubJxnWmqaICAagRpzHaJiNt_jm4a8FkJXhELRb1CZGRQHj7WH7OMHHtZ0c/s1600/Derain_CharingCrossBridge.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="828" data-original-width="1024" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYFx_-S761j8KUvlmmAk_cb9Op3j9B67IL4G4o6cWZAQWH0-Atsz8In4z819vlEMrTRTgzd7vilhMHpodjRubJxnWmqaICAagRpzHaJiNt_jm4a8FkJXhELRb1CZGRQHj7WH7OMHHtZ0c/s400/Derain_CharingCrossBridge.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charing Cross Bridge, by Andre Derain, 1906 (image is in the Public Domain). Derain was set to London by his dealer, Ambroise Vollart, with a commission to produce thirty views of London, inspired by Monet's earlier works.</td></tr>
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The paintings produced between 1870 and 1904 by French Impressionists; their compatriots; and their British and American admirers; placed London on the artistic map of Europe, the sweep of the Thames, and the distinctive buildings along it, as familiar as images of Paris or Rome, Florence or Venice, Vienna or Saint Petersburg.<br />
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The EY Exhibition, "Impressionists in London," is open at Tate Britain until the 7th May.<br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGGzc5Hk7yKhfBy4FuhInPAryUjYvbAFHVn8C5WqeXVQb-b0w2bXILpdozguXo_68HQCsxHZ0SAXbuPo-dA_Pt-jG-Qc5JiswIWN7EkbhViuj-BWTu323Jory0oaRoELqpjXaWboZoCxn/s1600/Omphalos+Cover+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1002" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGGzc5Hk7yKhfBy4FuhInPAryUjYvbAFHVn8C5WqeXVQb-b0w2bXILpdozguXo_68HQCsxHZ0SAXbuPo-dA_Pt-jG-Qc5JiswIWN7EkbhViuj-BWTu323Jory0oaRoELqpjXaWboZoCxn/s320/Omphalos+Cover+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br />Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-67204085781794607422018-04-13T05:47:00.000-07:002018-04-13T05:47:48.493-07:00The Story of London in 50 Novels: 7 - "The Marlowe Papers," by Ros BarberIt has sometimes been said that England, in contrast to Italy, France, Germany, and the Netherlands, never really had a "Renaissance." To the extent that this is true at all (questionable in itself), it applies only to the visual arts, and most particularly not to literature, drama, or philosophy. In fact, it can be argued that the institution of the commercial theatre, which, in the Sixteenth and early Seventeenth Centuries, was almost uniquely English, and, more specifically, London-based, brought some of the key themes of the Renaissance to a far wider audience than had been the case in most of the countries of continental Europe. If it is true that there was never an English Leonardo or Michelangelo, then it is equally true that Italy (at least, not in this time period) never produced an equivalent to Christopher Marlowe or William Shakespeare.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIItbULueBQM852qZhm336iiK9jqyZvODOOQMY2nVb7SkUpDoKYbiYCyJx8p_kL2rNdzpOKczml-GBT4crO_3dpjLOagaON8pgcHW67HZtfq89LE67MXVt55gFTSeXlNVh929uZlsilGaK/s1600/Christopher_Marlowe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="631" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIItbULueBQM852qZhm336iiK9jqyZvODOOQMY2nVb7SkUpDoKYbiYCyJx8p_kL2rNdzpOKczml-GBT4crO_3dpjLOagaON8pgcHW67HZtfq89LE67MXVt55gFTSeXlNVh929uZlsilGaK/s320/Christopher_Marlowe.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portrait, believed to be of Christopher Marlowe, Corpus Christi College Cambridge (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Even in terms of the visual arts, the aesthetics of the European Renaissance were brought to London by continental artists, such as the Florentine sculptor, Pietro Torrigiano, and the German painter, Hans Holbein. Printed texts circulated widely, if not always freely, and these included original works in Italian, French, and German; as well as the Latin classics; and Latin translations of ancient Greek texts (in England, as elsewhere in Europe, many more people could read Latin than Greek). With no effective copyright laws in operation, anyone was free to translate these works into English, and Saint Paul's Churchyard was the place where most London booksellers kept their stalls. It was here that the dramatists of the day found much of the inspiration for their stories.<br />
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London's first commercial theatre was established by James Burbage in Shoreditch in 1576, and, in the decades that followed, many more were established around the outskirts of The City, including The Globe, The Rose, and The Swan, on <a href="http://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2017/04/the-streets-of-old-southwark-east.html">Southwark's Bankside</a>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpgBzvsUlYu5p2P2x7D-_QoKncoWuvUGTRF4fdCnwB3qxgxh04qLfVRnugcmhUaj-TtvbgWPCTw0BRKi9Z-85qsq3rqz7fIpos8x_PyAx06OfgNNFFhZKH8ovnIPHMuy9L7LEZgNmE83jf/s1600/The+Theatre.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="330" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpgBzvsUlYu5p2P2x7D-_QoKncoWuvUGTRF4fdCnwB3qxgxh04qLfVRnugcmhUaj-TtvbgWPCTw0BRKi9Z-85qsq3rqz7fIpos8x_PyAx06OfgNNFFhZKH8ovnIPHMuy9L7LEZgNmE83jf/s400/The+Theatre.png" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Burbage's Theatre in Shoreditch (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOhjHyeBdWNYxRmhMkxtjnJPkLO6EF03ZQxZ3h1kXm6MBamqbv3aH2BoVJxaSCSW0qHMK8pNuShrE8azQZdbsXaW4tdq5sgC5AsJNQbqvmVbrKpVcVe7RMt-hi0AFqzH1n5H_0ByijYgK/s1600/London+play-houses.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="400" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOhjHyeBdWNYxRmhMkxtjnJPkLO6EF03ZQxZ3h1kXm6MBamqbv3aH2BoVJxaSCSW0qHMK8pNuShrE8azQZdbsXaW4tdq5sgC5AsJNQbqvmVbrKpVcVe7RMt-hi0AFqzH1n5H_0ByijYgK/s400/London+play-houses.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">London's early play-houses (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcofcjUAEufXhKRGDbG4l8YSL1BsZaTZTCsBtHmAGEAJPpQKhtbKtQ3LqlZ67B68_2UOSHDPrPHBqsqtMCvz3YZJmV18Wwd581CLYjQ1__0Y9JRlG9WHAOVZPBjHaDc5SSPn36LNsWlw7/s1600/Rose+Theatre+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcofcjUAEufXhKRGDbG4l8YSL1BsZaTZTCsBtHmAGEAJPpQKhtbKtQ3LqlZ67B68_2UOSHDPrPHBqsqtMCvz3YZJmV18Wwd581CLYjQ1__0Y9JRlG9WHAOVZPBjHaDc5SSPn36LNsWlw7/s400/Rose+Theatre+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excavation of The Rose Theatre, Southwark, where many of Marlowe's plays were performed. </td></tr>
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Despite his humble background (his father was a shoemaker in Canterbury), the poet and dramatist, Christopher Marlowe, had taken a degree at Cambridge, and, unlike his broad contemporaries, William Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, was probably literate in Greek, as well as Latin (Greek plays were performed in the original in Cambridge colleges, and Marlowe may well have acted in these). His apparently short life (1564-93) is shrouded in mysteries: including his possible involvement in espionage; and the circumstances of his violent death.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWN5xrLtG2PnKB5lMGuRXaV7nMP1SM6gojctgWlnGRrvyzqzKyMerB-O-w-cKwng_9wGYtCwg9HKVJaci565SYJHc9_ERNO7-7SoMNRLRtt2hz3cm46IYGk0MpCQQEU4B2fVlpucGMm39/s1600/The+Marlowe+Papers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWN5xrLtG2PnKB5lMGuRXaV7nMP1SM6gojctgWlnGRrvyzqzKyMerB-O-w-cKwng_9wGYtCwg9HKVJaci565SYJHc9_ERNO7-7SoMNRLRtt2hz3cm46IYGk0MpCQQEU4B2fVlpucGMm39/s320/The+Marlowe+Papers.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
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Ros Barber's <i>The Marlowe Papers</i> is a <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2014/05/historical-fiction-in-verse.html">novel in verse</a>, exploring the possibility that his life did not end with a "<i>great reckoning in a little room</i>," in Deptford in 1593, but that his death was, rather, staged, and that he subsequently escaped into exile on the continent (this suggestion has been made many times over the years, and there are documented examples of fugitives escaping under similar circumstances). As such, the novel not only takes the reader into the heart of London's first theatre-land; and into the dangerous world of late Tudor England, with all of its religious and political tensions; but also into the soul of a troubled man, facing permanent separation from the world that he loves, and even the loss of his identity itself. <br />
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"<i>Church-dead. And not a headstone in my name.</i><br />
<i>no brassy plaque, no monument, no tomb,</i><br />
<i>no whittled initials on a makeshift cross,</i><br />
<i>no pile of stones upon a mountain top.</i><br />
<i>The plague is the excuse; the age's curse</i><br />
<i>that swells to life as spring gives way to summer,</i><br />
<i>to sun, unconscious kisser of a warmth</i><br />
<i>that wakens canker as it wakens bloom.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Now fear infects the wind, and every breath</i><br />
<i>that neighbour breathes on neighbour in the street</i><br />
<i>brings death so close you smell it on the stairs.</i><br />
<i>Rats multiply, as God would have them do.</i><br />
<i>And fear infects like mould; like fungus, spreads -</i><br />
<i>Folks catch it from the chopped-off ears and thumbs,</i><br />
<i>the burning heretics and eyeless heads</i><br />
<i>that slow-revolve the poles on London Bridge ... </i>"<br />
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" <i>... This banished man is writing you a poem,</i><br />
<i>the only code I know that tells the truth,</i><br />
<i>though truth was both my glory, and my ruin,</i><br />
<i>the laurel, and the handcuff, of my youth.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>London seduced me. Beckoned me her way</i><br />
<i>and spread herself beneath me, for a play.</i>"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0HkKwJockLicP9SsHL5pKdH3GdR-NkQHsfF6rmHUNHLEfJ4FK9pNOEbEhksU41br3GaS_6_msB5nuz0PL8IaJ7-GeBB-ukaA3j_ol22V3GMWN9TEtCBgcSrZYJ8Q8IblFm-i8osaJba_/s1600/Edward_alleyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="272" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0HkKwJockLicP9SsHL5pKdH3GdR-NkQHsfF6rmHUNHLEfJ4FK9pNOEbEhksU41br3GaS_6_msB5nuz0PL8IaJ7-GeBB-ukaA3j_ol22V3GMWN9TEtCBgcSrZYJ8Q8IblFm-i8osaJba_/s400/Edward_alleyn.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edward Alleyn was one of the greatest actors on the London stage, and made many of Marlowe's theatrical roles his own (c 1626, image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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"'<i>They've never seen the like before.' Applause</i><br />
<i>a clapping swell like starlings after grain</i><br />
<i>and Edward Alleyn's striding off the stage</i><br />
<i>dressed as the thunderous Tamburlaine. 'Some beer!'</i><br />
<i>He claps me on the back. 'Look what you've made.</i><br />
<i>It seems they love a monster. As do I</i>.'"<br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
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<br />Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3130566520954194626.post-82146982603115210052018-04-02T06:47:00.000-07:002018-04-02T06:47:02.385-07:00The Streets of Old Lambeth: Vauxhall - Pleasure Gardens and Glass Works A visitor to London, exploring the Borough of Lambeth, and, having viewed the <a href="https://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk/2018/03/the-streets-of-old-lambeth-garden-museum.html">Garden Museum</a>, can continue southwards along the Albert Embankment towards Vauxhall Bridge. The current bridge was opened in 1906, replacing an earlier one (originally called Regent Bridge), built between 1809 and 1816. At low tide (the Thames is tidal as far as Richmond), rows of wooden posts can be seen on either side of the modern bridge: those downstream of the bridge have been dated by archaeologists to the late Mesolithic or early Neolithic period (c 4500 BC); those upstream to the Bronze Age (c 1500 BC). It is unclear whether these represent early bridges, or ritual features/symbolic boundaries such as those discovered at Flag Fen, near Peterborough. Further information can be found <a href="http://www.vauxhallandkennington.org.uk/firstbridge.shtml">here</a>. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Vauxhall Bridge in 1816 (Image is in the Public Domain). Part of the Millbank Penitentiary can be seen, under construction, on the right.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Vauxhall Bridge. Photo: Marxville (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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The Vauxhall riverside is today dominated by the headquarters of the UK's Secret Intelligence Service (MI6), designed by the architect, Terry Farrell, but throughout much of the Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth Centuries, it was a place of leisure and industry. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfdignorNbRxXca3OIwxjeZPZJl1WAlQqMO79jCRKnuynnxIhc0yq27aPtZFdbiOk7Ouv_q2-1CwyRCPlB0UwtWXqa3Yny7bBqEUeie47WiT6OQCj_VmlRjD8ntNu7uOzgfMSZu4sPTGN/s1600/Vauxhall+Cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfdignorNbRxXca3OIwxjeZPZJl1WAlQqMO79jCRKnuynnxIhc0yq27aPtZFdbiOk7Ouv_q2-1CwyRCPlB0UwtWXqa3Yny7bBqEUeie47WiT6OQCj_VmlRjD8ntNu7uOzgfMSZu4sPTGN/s400/Vauxhall+Cross.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The less-than-secret headquarters of MI6 at Vauxhall Cross. Photo: Laurie Nevey (licensed under CCA).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rCtzPogTAy40RHYmCxmQWj-buIHEgW0ITLvKs9yNw9Q7Kcx_hOa43jYOlPqV330qNHJznb8-x0V8-z16E_WkI5KXPiJn5C99eKX1y4tRnWbtmTFvR78mLPXfwftd7MGxRLsQVEmdv_u-/s1600/Rocque_Vauxhall_and_Westminster_%2528cropped%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="636" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rCtzPogTAy40RHYmCxmQWj-buIHEgW0ITLvKs9yNw9Q7Kcx_hOa43jYOlPqV330qNHJznb8-x0V8-z16E_WkI5KXPiJn5C99eKX1y4tRnWbtmTFvR78mLPXfwftd7MGxRLsQVEmdv_u-/s400/Rocque_Vauxhall_and_Westminster_%2528cropped%2529.png" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vauxhall and Westminster in 1746, by John Rocque (image is in the Public Domain): ferries, rather than bridges, provide crossing points.</td></tr>
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There are gardens to the east of the building today, but they are a pale reflection of those to be found on the riverside from the Seventeenth until the mid-Nineteenth Century. Samuel Pepys visited in June, 1665:<br />
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" <i>... I took boat, and to Fox Hall, where we spent two or three hours talking of several matters very soberly and contentfully to me, which, with the ayre and pleasure of the garden, was a great refreshment to me, and, methinks, that which we ought to enjoy ourselves in</i>." <br />
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Another diarist, John Aubrey, tells us that:<br />
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"<i>Sir Samuel Morland built a fine room, anno 1667, the inside all of looking glass, and fountains very pleasant to behold, which is much visited by strangers: it stands in the middle of the garden, covered with Cornish slate, on the point of which he placed a Punchinello, very well carved, which held a dial, but the winds have demolished it</i>."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYEu31oSGmXPWYTY04u6kxWzy0aWv8CTLaPyr6IOnBGcCliYQtys_86u5FYTdNBmVQ_EfoLjDmY-L95m7K_glyF3vzLudP5iO7KKbfrCiByiQBoJ0FaOn8YruUbq6rNTaHFO6YcJ-y78b/s1600/Vauxhall_Gardens_by_Samuel_Wale_c1751+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="500" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYEu31oSGmXPWYTY04u6kxWzy0aWv8CTLaPyr6IOnBGcCliYQtys_86u5FYTdNBmVQ_EfoLjDmY-L95m7K_glyF3vzLudP5iO7KKbfrCiByiQBoJ0FaOn8YruUbq6rNTaHFO6YcJ-y78b/s400/Vauxhall_Gardens_by_Samuel_Wale_c1751+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens in 1751, by Samuel Wale (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlknTpjB2YZktt2aqycrXiFUAnCqVNojXf0dez_Crgda7qLm6zNZRm4zC031QMA6xnBhpsPHPRQWGiox397_nyuCVgaYd1R0tsV18KfkTX6y3l4vCPSOrNy0YpaeHnei4IlFXg2nB1GD4/s1600/Thomas_Rowlandson_-_Entrance_to_Vauxhall_Gardens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="716" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlknTpjB2YZktt2aqycrXiFUAnCqVNojXf0dez_Crgda7qLm6zNZRm4zC031QMA6xnBhpsPHPRQWGiox397_nyuCVgaYd1R0tsV18KfkTX6y3l4vCPSOrNy0YpaeHnei4IlFXg2nB1GD4/s400/Thomas_Rowlandson_-_Entrance_to_Vauxhall_Gardens.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entrance to Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, c 1790, by Thomas Rowlandson (image is in the Public Domain.</td></tr>
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Later attractions included a "Turkish Tent," "Chinese Pavilion," bandstand, ruins, and arches. In 1749, a rehearsal of Handel's "Music for the Royal Fireworks" attracted an audience of twelve thousand. In the Nineteenth Century, the gardens were lit by fifteen thousand glass lamps, and visitors could ascend in a hot-air balloon to take in the view. Yet, as the Victorian age rolled on, the gardens became less fashionable: catering was notoriously expensive, and poor value (sandwiches reputedly made with ham cut so thin as to be transparent); and the shrubbery provided hiding places both for prostitutes and their clients, and for pick-pockets. Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens closed in 1859.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkqbwZf3XOgsL4pMrBJqSvhCgGEdsVIER7TezIfoQT_v7vwSE2erZlDfCAAdJ5VHeWY5wf9q1v-A9voAtRi5pHlER4LAOe4EIVjBAbmxwmZJezc9NTXkRdswx9vTEfc84hd_otkqR-HpEK/s1600/Vauxhall_Gardens_-_plan_-_1826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="437" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkqbwZf3XOgsL4pMrBJqSvhCgGEdsVIER7TezIfoQT_v7vwSE2erZlDfCAAdJ5VHeWY5wf9q1v-A9voAtRi5pHlER4LAOe4EIVjBAbmxwmZJezc9NTXkRdswx9vTEfc84hd_otkqR-HpEK/s320/Vauxhall_Gardens_-_plan_-_1826.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plan of Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens in 1826 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Industry co-existed with the pleasure gardens, and continued in the area after they had closed. Sir Edward Zouche established a glass-works in 1612. This later passed into the hands of the second Duke of Buckingham, described by Dryden as a "<i>chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon</i>," who employed Venetian glass-workers in an attempt to manufacture plate glass for windows. This factory continued to operate until the 1780s.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0oI2OEOaTauORG86hQwi-kNrKtlCGgtWyvEinNqqh8o6n4vRvDK-Sp3zQwNxtcBOWZg55O3JjxfUIZeZuO3XXlxNkL6kWz83jQPg2mDY4b9myONehL3SWQtfHJy6GdC7x7sO4lKzeZdXB/s1600/Vauxhall+glassworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="400" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0oI2OEOaTauORG86hQwi-kNrKtlCGgtWyvEinNqqh8o6n4vRvDK-Sp3zQwNxtcBOWZg55O3JjxfUIZeZuO3XXlxNkL6kWz83jQPg2mDY4b9myONehL3SWQtfHJy6GdC7x7sO4lKzeZdXB/s400/Vauxhall+glassworks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vauxhall Glass Works in 1746 (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Archaeological research, in advance of the construction of the MI6 building, revealed the remains of a second glass-works, established by John Baker in the Seventeenth Century, and which produced wine bottles among other products. Charles Kempton and Sons continued making glass in Vauxhall until 1928, when they transferred their operations outside of London.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ip6gpPI_jgAB0VoiVwwBKZZIE-Jwm3r5t1WIWtUhtIa1Y5SiqvvJNeBi0feQ_eWu7X3Ow77doiXRSXkhOpRFgBLv4hbIvNySxPzEj2cB6nF4XW5cp_QAip0biLk0X5bYa4kimNIjGrUT/s1600/johnbaker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="212" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ip6gpPI_jgAB0VoiVwwBKZZIE-Jwm3r5t1WIWtUhtIa1Y5SiqvvJNeBi0feQ_eWu7X3Ow77doiXRSXkhOpRFgBLv4hbIvNySxPzEj2cB6nF4XW5cp_QAip0biLk0X5bYa4kimNIjGrUT/s400/johnbaker.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKLxToVfCHFAMIZyE9qp71FSV-ZP6omWZfeoycwOJMV0sdIFeFU_D1EMoiBLxiUUjUYGNgk8v_c8IST3dTJY6EPVS8qQN37u9oJFMbPP4WQfEnoMN__2cl5Q_TRNttl4nvQa3v1MO2kyT/s1600/Kempton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKLxToVfCHFAMIZyE9qp71FSV-ZP6omWZfeoycwOJMV0sdIFeFU_D1EMoiBLxiUUjUYGNgk8v_c8IST3dTJY6EPVS8qQN37u9oJFMbPP4WQfEnoMN__2cl5Q_TRNttl4nvQa3v1MO2kyT/s1600/Kempton.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catalogue of glassware from Charles Kempton and Sons (image is in the Public Domain).</td></tr>
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Nor was glass-making the only industrial activity taking place in Vauxhall. The Vauxhall Iron Works were established in 1897, and, in 1903, they branched out to encompass the new technology of the automobile age. The Vauxhall Motor Company produced cars here from 1903 to 1906, when operations moved to Luton.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCH8m4JQ3oO3A3XjCiy9d_P12FBuCIq5e-IBc0jaVMLNbRjSxMqSiVZrhhS_6CdFbth3D4KExOvmZDUaYZqhwHuff9isDi8p0Yna-PWEt9ZuaGn5cda5fE-5onNrt8A6RLG5p0OsaWsZL/s1600/Vauxhall+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="800" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCH8m4JQ3oO3A3XjCiy9d_P12FBuCIq5e-IBc0jaVMLNbRjSxMqSiVZrhhS_6CdFbth3D4KExOvmZDUaYZqhwHuff9isDi8p0Yna-PWEt9ZuaGn5cda5fE-5onNrt8A6RLG5p0OsaWsZL/s400/Vauxhall+car.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An early Vauxhall car, in a German motor rally of 1931. Photo: German Federal Archives, Bild 102-12207 (licensed under CCA - CC-BY-SA 3.0).</td></tr>
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Industrial Vauxhall way badly damaged by bombing during the Second World War, and, in the second half of the Twentieth Century, the district took on the largely residential character that it retain to this day.<br />
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Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction, whose books can be purchased from <a href="http://author.to/MarkPatton">Amazon</a>.<br />
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<br />Mark Pattonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06621801968983662236noreply@blogger.com0