My Guilty Secret - London Trivia #4

Photo courtesy of Cheezburger.com

I have a guilty secret - I quite like watching 'Bargain Hunt' - (for my US friends, this is a daytime TV show where generally clueless couples buy trash from antique fairs with the aim of selling it at auction for profit. The couple that makes the most profit, or smallest loss, wins!) Hosted by the epitome of an English gentleman, Tim Wannocott, halfway through the show Tim visits a place of historical interest and on the occasion that inspired this post, he visited the Sir John Soanes museum London.

Tim Wonnacott - photo courtesy of the BBC.

Sir John Soanes was the Georgian architect who designed the Bank of England, amongst other notable buildings. But what sparked my interest during Tim's segment, was the sheer eccentricity of Soanes home - which also doubled as a museum in his lifetime. Soanes was a collector of architectural artefacts and filled his house with antique marble fragments of statues and friezes, mainly from ancient Rome. From the glimpse I got on the TV it looked too interesting to miss and living close to London I went to visit.

Soanes Museum - the cream coloured building to the left of the picture.

Soanes Museum is at 12 - 14 Lincoln's Inn Fields, London and entry is free!
Greek and Roman marbles line the stairwells, a full sized Egyptian sarcophagus in the basement, a room of Hogarth's mounted on hinged walls. In the basement, Soanes created an atmosphere reminiscent of catacombs or Roman burial chamber, of which the centre piece was the magnificent Egyptian sarcophagus of King Seti I; bought by Soanes when the British Museum refused to pay 2,000 pounds for it. With hieroglyphics as yet deciphered in his time, and a very important antiquity, Soanes celebrated the arrival of his new piece with three evening parties, illuminated by three hundred oil lamps and attended by nearly a thousand people.



The Bank of England - designed by Sir John Soanes.

Mrs Soanes must have had the patience of a saint to put up with the stamp of her husband's overwhelming personality, but by all accounts they were a happy couple. A mark of Soanes' eccentricity was his 'Monk's Parlour.' This was a downstairs room designed in a gothic fashion, with dark sombre colours and heavy furniture to illustrate the importance of light (or lack of it) in creating atmosphere. What is even more delightful is that when Soanes wanted to be alone he would claim:
"Padre Giovanni has come to visit," and disappear into the Monk's Parlour to take tea. However since Padre Giovanni was fictitious, actually a play on Soanes' own name 'John' - his visits were an excuse to enjoy solitude.

The sarcophogus in Soanes house - and yes it is as mad as this!

 I've gone a long way round the houses to say I'm proud that my 'guilty secret' inspired a visit to a place I hadn’t heard of before- and I feel less guilty as a result!

Have you ever visited somewhere you saw on TV and were blown away by the experience?

Do leave a comment and join the conversation!

Portraits of Sir John Soanes by Sir Frances Chantry.

Dead Cats and Commercialism - London Trivia #3

Today's tale of London trivia tells how the exclusive shopping venue, the Burlington Arcade, Piccadilly came into being.

The original triple arch entrance to the Burlington Arcade.

For those unfamiliar with London, the Burlington Arcade is a parade of high-end shops housed in Georgian splendour, beside the current home of the Royal Academy, Burlington House. However, did you know that in 1819 these Georgian shops came into existence to stop dead cats falling on Lord Cavendish when he sat in his garden?

Interior of the Burlington Arcade today.

 In the early 19th century Lord George Cavendish was the owner of Burlington House. But no matter how splendid his residence, Lord Cavendish derived little pleasure from sitting outside because of a constant rain of oyster shells, apple cores, bottles and even the odd dead animal. This was because an alleyway ran alongside his property and the passers-by liked to lob their rubbish over his garden wall.

The Burlington Arcade - interior.

Cavendish's solution was to commission Samuel Ware to design a arcade of small shops in the alleyway, and do away with the nuisance of the uncouth public dumping their rubbish over his wall. The result was the Burlington Arcade, which still exists as a retail mall to this day. Opened on 20th March, 1819, the mall reputedly cost 49,000 pounds to build, rent for a single unit was a little over 12 pounds a year. One of the first lease holders was patronised by the Prince Regent to supply gold lace for his uniforms.



The Burlington Arcade to the left and the edge of the Royal Academy to the right.

Originally a single storey building, an upper level was added in 1906 with apartments to let (as one wit put it, "To a better sort of courtesan".) The original triple arch entrance was removed in 1931 and a new design added, which was much disliked at the time. The shops are small but famous for selling expensive, luxury goods - hence quality over quantity.

Lord George Augustus Cavendish.

 A beadle (the Georgian equivalent of a security man) patrolled the mall in order to stop the 'wrong sort' entering. The first beadles were recruited from the Cavendish family regiment of the 10th Hussars to enforce a strict code of conduct within the arcade which included: no running, whistling or playing musical instruments, no carrying large parcels and no babies' prams. In the 19th century the beadle had a leather armchair at the entrance on which to sit whilst keeping an eye on visitors. It was also the beadle's job to ring a hand-bell to tell the shops to close. To this day there is still a team of four beadles(but no chair) and they have the authority to eject you from the arcade if behaving inappropriately.

Widget- because she's cute...and I wouldnt want her falling on my head!

So finally, if you visit the longest covered street in Britain, spare a thought for the Burlington Arcade's original reason for being - to stop dead cats falling on Lord Cavendish's head!

London Trivia #2 - Where is the centre of London?

Photo courtesy of Cheezburger.com

To celebrate London 2012, in this second post of historical trivia I attempt to answer the question: where is the centre of the capital? I had some vague notion that the statue of Eros at Piccadilly Circus marked the spot, but it turns out I am wrong! Neither is it Buckingham Palace or St Paul's Cathedral…so where is it?

Buckingham Palace from the air- photo Thomas Nugent.

The actual spot is marked by a brass plaque in what was medieval Charing Cross (more of this later), near the currentTrafalgar Square and the equestrian statue of King Charles I.

Statue of Charles I , southern corner of Trafalgar Square.

To find out why this spot is defined as the centre of London we need to go back to the 11th century and the time of Edward the Confessor. Edward was one of the last Anglo-Saxon kings (reigning 1042 - 1066) and he pledged to go on a pilgrimage to Rome, but civil unrest meant he couldn’t leave his kingdom. In recompense for breaking his vow he decided to build a large church. He chose an area of high ground  near the marshes of the Thames, demolished the existing monastery and started building that which later became Westminster Abbey.

Edward the Confessor, depicted in the Bayeux tapestry.

However merchants in the old city of London considered it an unreasonable distance to travel to Westminster and the new seat of authority, and so when traders wanted to hear the latest government policy they met at a half way point -  Charing Cross. It is this spot, marked by the brass plaque and is still the official centre of London, so much so that people working within a 6 mile radius can claim London-weighting for their expenses and are entitled to extra payments.


Westminster Abbey - built of the site of Edward's church. Photo Karen Matthews.

And finally, I mentioned medieval Charing Cross, near Trafalgar Square, a short distance from the modern Charing Cross. The original spot was marked by the memorial cross erected by King Edward in 1290, to mark the route of his beloved wife's, Queen Eleanor, funeral procession. The giant cross became such landmark that when the new Charing Cross railway station was opened in 1865, to drum up publicity the original monument was removed and a new and grander memorial erected beside the station to establish a landmark.

Charing Cross station - from the London Eye. Photo Mike McMillan.

London Trivia - #1 - Pavements.

Craig's Court, London - photo courtesy of R Sones.

To celebrate the arrival of the London Olympics 2012,  I'm starting a short series of blog posts about the more unusual aspects of London's history. Let's start with the story of how pavements came to become common place in the capital.

Before the mid 1750's the pedestrian was much neglected! Roads occupied the total width of the street between the buildings on either side. Most of the roads were also very narrow and it was incredibly dangerous for anyone on foot because on coming vehicles could crush them against a wall. Like a lot of things, it took someone of power and influence to be inconvenienced before anything was done to solve the problem.

Widget says: "Do what I say or the toy gets it!"

This person was the Speaker of the House of Commons, Mr Speaker Onslow. One day in the early 1760's he set off to visit the Earl of Harrington at home in his large house in a small square just off Craig's Court, London. Harrington's house was approached by a narrow alleyway (see header photo) and as Onslow pushed on in a large, stately carriage, the wheels stuck fast to the houses on either side. It was jammed so tightly that the coach's doors couldn’t be opened and Mr Speaker Onslow became a prisoner inside his own vehicle. After many fruitless attempts to move the vehicle the humiliated Speaker was rescued by cutting a hole in the roof of the carriage and pulling him out that way.

Carriage photo courtesy of John Lloyd.

            On his return to parliament Onslow helped institute a bill decreeing that all householders must pay for a row of kerbstones in front of their property, to warn and thereby stop drivers progressing before they got stuck.

Once the kerbstones marked a boundary to show the limit of a road's width, pavements evolved on the building side as a safer place for pedestrians to walk.

The modern day House of Commons, as seen from the Thames.

And finally, a black market in kerbstones developed with the unscrupulous stealing them to use themselves in front of their home or to sell on. Since the Admiralty was also duty bound under the pavement act of 1762 to provide kerb stones, they marked them with an arrow to discourage theft. The arrow was a traditional mark introduced by Elizabeth I to denote army and navy property, and apparently is still used today for this purpose.

Kerbstone marked with an arrow - courtesy of Roger Templeman.

Horse Play - Smuggling #5

Have you ever seen a horse acting suspiciously?

Well that’s exactly what 18th century revenue officers were on the look out for!

Smugglers, once their contraband was ashore had to transport it inland for sale, and for this they needed horse power. Some gangs used equines employed in legitimate trade as cover for owning large numbers of horses. An example were the horses of the North Kent Seasalter company: by day they shifted timber from the Forest of Blean to the local tanneries, and by night transported contraband inland. A smuggling gang on Romney Marsh also owned horses, but set them to graze in groups of two or three to attract less attention, but when rounded up could raise a caravan up to 200 beasts strong.

The free-traders were notoriously cunning and this extended to their horses. Stories exist of smugglers shaving their horses and soaping or oiling them, to make it more difficult for the excise men to capture them. These horses were highly trained and their cunning masters also taught them to stop on the command "Gee-up" and bolt when told "Woah!"

Many of these horses could also find their own way home. This came in handy with the nag loaded with contraband, leaving the smuggler free to create a diversion for any prying eyes. The horse, carrying illicit barrels, found his way back to the stable where a conspirator waited to unload. A variation on this story was one horse who became disoriented by the alcoholic vapours eminating from the tubs strapped to his back, and wandered to his neighbour's house - who happened to be a customs officer. The officer, alerted by the sound of hooves, impounded the contraband and then followed the now unladen horse as he found his way back to the correct house.

Another way of obtaining horsepower was to have an agreement with local farmers. In Great Holland, one particular farmer was fond of drinking spirits and left his gate unlocked when his barrel was running low, as a sign that his horses could be used in return for a tub of gin or brandy.

"I know he's around here somewhere...."

However this cosy arrangement did not always run smoothly. A winded or exhausted horse was no use for farm work, but to refuse smugglers the priviledge of 'borrowing' a horse could result in a campaign of intimidation. Akin to a modern protection racquet, those who didn’t co-operate found hayricks catching fire, sheep falling ill, or on one occaision a farmer returning from market was unseated from his horse by a cord stretched between two trees across the road.

In my latest release,  our heroine, Hope Tyler falls foul of a smuggler bent on revenge...find out how and why by reading 'Hope's Betrayal'.

A Place of Safety - Smuggling #4

'A dreadful thing from the cliff did spring.' - Old Norfolk folk tale

From ghostly dogs to hidden chambers under dung heaps - smugglers were very resourceful at hiding contraband and truth being stranger than fiction, in the 18th century methods of concealment were many and varied indeed.

Hiding contraband liquor in a pub cellar was an obvious a solution except that the smaller kegs used by smugglers were easy to spot. However, the landlord of the 16th century 'Spread Eagle' pub was one step ahead; his tavern possessed a concealed well, accessible only from the roof, the shaft of which provided an excellent hiding place. Failing that, there are many tales of landlord's wives in their voluminous skirts, sitting on top of barrels to hide them whilst the revenue man made his rounds.

A less obvious hiding place was the church. Situated on Romney Marsh, Snargate Church had a crypt that was used for storing tobacco. Indeed, on one occasion in a thick fog, the vicar was able to safely find his way to the church by following the strong smell of tobacco! Apparently the nave of Snargate Church is decorated with a painting of a ship, which is an early smugglers symbol, code for a place of safety.

Another church hiding place was the ceiling void, although this wasn’t always without consequence. During Sunday service at Langton Matravers, the choir was singing a psalm when the roof collapsed and kegs rained down on the congregation.

Some tricks were inventive, such as having a fire-proof void beneath a hearth. When the revenue men called a fire was lit on top of the hidden chamber to prevent detection. A similar idea was using a cellar hidden beneath a dung heap. The dung was moved aside to reveal a trap door, the contraband concealed, the manure replaced and a herd of sheep driven past to cover the footprints. However in the case, tragedy resulted. When the gang went to retrieve their goods, they failed to listen to warnings about letting the foul air in the cellar clear before going in. Three men were overcome by fumes, two of whom died as a result.

Moonrakers.

 Another place was a false partition in a stable - with the addition a vicious horse guaranteed to kick any intruders. In some villages smuggled goods were weighted down and thrown into the village pond, to be retrieved at a more convenient time. When revenue men came across villagers in Bishops Canning, Wiltshire, trawling the pond with line and hook, they demanded to know what was going on. The villager pointed to the moon's reflection and said he was trying to recover, "The big yellow cheese". This trick earned them the nickname of "Moonrakers." In true British humour the inhabitants of Bishops Canning reveled in their new notoriety and even spread rumours that they put manure around the church tower to make it grow taller.

And finally, another way to discourage unwanted snooping was to spread fear. A Cornish vicar was said to be able to 'raise dead and lay ghosts' at will; a tall tale to keep people away from the graveyard when a smuggling run was in progress. A similar story was spread that local cannibals hid tubs of human flesh in nearby caves, and they would eat anyone found disturbing the kegs. There is also a persistent Norfolk legend about Old Shuck, a ghost dog with a one glowing eye and fiery breath. Anyone seeing Old Shuck was sure to be dead within the year. To further terrify gullible villagers the smugglers tied a lantern round the neck of a black ram when a landing was due, to scare away nosy locals!

With all of this to contend with, you have to feel sorry for Captain Huntley in his fight against smugglers! Find out how he gets on in "Hope's Betrayal." (Currently a 25% discount on the cover price during July at Smashwords - just enter the code SSW25. http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/163804 )

           

The Renaissance Betrothal - guest post by Freda Lightfoot.

I'm delighted to welcome author, Freda Lightfoot, to the blog.

Born in Lancashire, Freda has been a teacher, bookseller and, in a mad moment, a smallholder on the freezing fells of the English Lake District where she attempted to live the ‘good life’. She has now given up her thermals to live in an olive grove in Spain, where she produces her own olive oil and sits in the sun. She began her writing career by publishing over 50 short stories and articles, and has published 39 novels including many bestselling family sagas and historical novels.

So without further ado, welcome Freda! 

The Renaissance Betrothal.

Popular since the Middle Ages, betrothal ceremonies frequently involved some sort of ceremony or symbolic act. This is believed to date back to the time of ancient Rome. In Anglo-Saxon England the joining of hands to seal the betrothal was common as we know from the term ‘handfasting’ to signify a betrothal. In fourteenth and fifteenth century Italy, the betrothal was sealed by a handshake between the parents, or at best the father of the bride and the prospective groom. In sixteenth century France this ritual was known as les accords. There would be the giving of a ring, often a gimmel ring which was in two parts, one to be worn by the prospective groom, the other by the bride, the two joined together to form the wedding ring. Records indicate the drinking of wine to toast the agreement, or taking part in a sumptuous feast ‘in the name of marriage’, or simply be sealed with a kiss.

Some examples of antique gimmel rings.

The betrothal ceremony confirmed that these two people promised to marry one another, an agreement which could be considered more legally binding than the marriage ceremony itself. Once betrothed, if a couple had sexual intercourse, then they were considered married. And a betrothal contract could only be broken if both parties agreed.

Not that the young woman concerned had much say in the matter. Marriage was less about love and more about wealth, position and power, which meant, as we romantic novelists know, plenty of opportunity for extra-curricular activity in the way of affairs. Henry IV is reputed to have enjoyed at least 60 mistresses with whom he sired numerous illegitimate children, and three or four maîtresse-en-titre. But with Henriette de’Entragues he perhaps took on more than he’d bargained for she had set her sights on nothing less than marriage, and with it a crown. She therefore insisted upon a promesse de matrimonio before agreeing to surrender her maidenhead, allegedly still intact, and becoming his mistress. In a weak moment of overwhelming desire, Henry agreed that if she could give him a son, then he would marry her. A decision which was to create untold problems in the years ahead, and leave Henriette fighting a battle for what she perceived as her rights, at whatever the cost.

Henriette de'Entragues.

Next came the fiançailles when the bans were published. The parents, bride and bridegroom would visit the curé together to attend to this important matter. Then came the Epousailles which of course took place in church. The bridegroom was not allowed to enter without giving a considerable sum in alms, and guests were chosen to attend the wedding breakfast with an eye to the money they’d be likely to give. A bowl was handed round at dinner into which donations for a ‘nest-egg’ for the couple could be dropped.

Marie de Medici's wedding.

Henry left such traditions to the bourgeoisie, but provided well for all his children, whatever their status, and was a loving father. Those he had with Henriette shared the royal nursery with the legitimate heirs he had with his queen, Marie de Medici, much to that lady’s displeasure. But Henry loved to play with them, and it was so much more practical to keep them all together in one place. The people of Paris were highly entertained by the fact that his mistress and queen were often enceinte at the same time.

 Thank you so much for you interesting post, Freda. I hugely enjoyed reading "The Queen and the Courtesan" and can heartily recommend it to all lovers of historical fiction.

Click for link.

You can find out more about Freda and her work here:

The Queen and the Courtesan, published 29 June, can be found as a paperback or ebook her

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Queen-Courtesan-Freda-Lightfoot/dp/1847513972/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1338886284&sr=1-1

Most of Freda's titles are now available as ebooks on Amazon, Kobo, Smashwords etc. Links to them can be found here:-  http://www.fredalightfoot.co.uk

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