General Chemistry 11Th Edition Full Chapter
General Chemistry 11Th Edition Full Chapter
General Chemistry 11Th Edition Full Chapter
Edition
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebooksecure.com/download/ebook-pdf-general-chemistry-11th-edition/
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
“THE FOLLY” ON THE THAMES
VIEWS.
1. A view of Whitehall from the water, showing the Folly Musick
House on the Thames. Engraved in Wilkinson’s Londina Illustrata, vol.
i. No. 88, from a drawing taken about the time of James II. “in the
possession of Thomas Griffiths, Esq.”
2. The Southern Front of Somerset House with its extensive
Gardens, &c., showing the Folly. A drawing by L. Knyff, about 1720,
engraved by Sawyer Junior, and published (1808) in J. T. Smith’s sixty
additional plates to his Antiquities of Westminster. This is copied, with
a short account of the Folly, in E. W. Brayley’s Londiniana (1829), vol.
iii. 130, 300. It is substantially the same as the view on a larger scale
engraved by Kip in Strype’s Stow, 1720, ii. bk. 4, p. 105. Cp. also an
engraving (W. Coll.) “Somerset House, La Maison de Somerset.” L.
Knyff del. I. Kip sc. undated, before 1720?
BELVEDERE HOUSE AND GARDENS, LAMBETH
The Flora Tea Gardens (or Mount Gardens), were on the right
hand side of the Westminster Bridge Road going towards the
Obelisk, and opposite the Temple of Flora. They were in existence
about 1796–7. The gardens were well kept and contained “genteel
paintings.” They were open on week-days and on Sundays till about
11 p.m., and the admission was sixpence.
Among the frequenters were democratic shopmen, who might be
heard railing against King and Church, and a good many ladies
respectable and the reverse. The “Sunday Rambler” (1796–7)
describes the company as very orderly, but at some time before
1800 the place was suppressed on account of dissolute persons
frequenting it.
Some small cottages were then built in the middle of the garden,
which retained a rural appearance till shortly before 1827, when
several rows of houses, “Mount Gardens,” were erected on the site.
[The Flora Tea Gardens described in A Modern Sabbath (1797),
chap. viii., are evidently identical with the Mount Gardens mentioned
by Allen (Lambeth, 335), though he does not mention their alternative
name (cp. Walford, vi. 389). Allen (loc. cit.) is the authority for the
suppression of the gardens.]
THE TEMPLE OF FLORA
VIEWS.
There appear to be no extant views. The site may be ascertained
from Horwood’s Plan, 1799; and from Willis’s Plan, 1808. In the Crace
Coll. (Cat. p. 122, No. 69) are “Two drawn plans of a plot of land
called the Apollo Gardens, lying next the Westminster Bridge Road to
the Obelisk,” by T. Chawner.
DOG AND DUCK, ST. GEORGE’S FIELDS
(St. George’s Spa)
In about ten years the Dog and Duck had become a place of
assignation and the haunt of “the riff-raff and scum of the town.” One
of its frequenters, Charlotte Shaftoe, is said to have betrayed seven
of her intimates to the gallows. At last, on September 11, 1787, the
Surrey magistrates refused to renew the license. Hedger, like the
Music Hall managers of our own time, was not easily beaten. He
appealed to the City of London, and two City justices claiming to act
as justices in Southwark, renewed the license seven days after its
refusal by the County magistrates. The legality of the civic
jurisdiction in Surrey was tried in 1792 before Lord Kenyon and other
judges, who decided against it. The license of the Dog and Duck was
then made conditional on its being entirely closed on Sundays.[309]
In 1795 the bath and the bowling-green were advertised as
attractions and the water might be drunk on the usual terms of
threepence each person. About 1796 the place was again open on
Sundays, but the license was lost. This difficulty the proprietor
surmounted by engaging a Freeman of the Vintners Company, who
required no license, to draw the wine that was sold on the premises.
The “Sunday Rambler” who visited the place (circ. 1796) one
evening about ten o’clock found a dubious company assembled. He
recognised a bankrupt banker and his mistress; a notorious lady
named Nan Sheldon; and another lady attired in extreme fashion
and known as “Tippy Molly,” though once she had been a modest
Mary Johnson. De Castro (Memoirs), with a certain touch of pathos,
describes the votaries of the Dog and Duck in its later days as “the
children of poverty, irregularity and distress.”[310] It would, indeed, be
easy to moralise on the circumstance that the place was soon to
become the inheritance of the blind and the lunatic. In or before 1799
the Dog and Duck was suppressed, and the premises, after having
been used as a public soup-kitchen, became in that year the
establishment of the School for the Indigent Blind, an institution
which remained there till 1811.
“LABOUR IN VAIN” (ST. GEORGE’S SPA IN BACKGROUND,
1782.)
Meanwhile, the enterprising Hedger, had made a good use of his
profits by renting (from about the year 1789) a large tract of land in
St. George’s Fields at low rates from the managers of the Bridge
House Estate. The fine for building was £500, but Hedger
immediately paid this penalty, and while sub-letting a portion of the
ground, ran up on the rest a number of wretched houses which
hardly stood the term of his twenty-one years’ lease. From this
source he is said to have derived £7,000 a year. He died in the early
part of the present century,[311] having obtained the title of The King
of the Fields, and the reputation of a “worthy private character.” He
left his riches to his eldest son, whom the people called the Squire.
The Dog and Duck was pulled down in 1811 for the building of the
present Bethlehem Hospital, the first stone of which was laid on 18
April, 1812. The old stone sign of the tavern, dated 1716, and
representing a spaniel holding a duck in its mouth, and the Arms of
the Bridge House Estate, was built into the brick garden-wall of the
Hospital where it may still be seen close to the actual site of the once
notorious Dog and Duck.
[Trusler’s London Adviser (1786), pp. 124, 164; Fores’s New Guide
(1789), preface, p. vi; Allen’s London, iv. 470, 482, 485; A Modern
Sabbath, 1797, chap. viii.; Wheatley’s London P. and P. s.v. “St.
George’s Fields” and “Dog and Duck”; Humphreys’s Memoirs of De
Castro (1824), 126, ff.; Manning and Bray, Surrey, iii. 468, 554, 632,
701; Allen’s Lambeth, p. 7, 347; Gent. Mag. 1813, pt. 2, 556; Rendle
and Norman, Inns of Old Southwark, p. 368, ff.; Walford, vi. 343, 344,
350–352, 364; Larwood and Hotten, Signboards, 196, 197; Notes and
Queries, 1st ser. iv. 37; newspaper cuttings in W. Coll.]
VIEWS.
1. The old Dog and Duck Tavern, copied from an old drawing 1646,
water-colour drawing by T. H. Shepherd, Crace, Cat. p. 646. No. 27.
2. The Dog and Duck in 1772. A print published 1772. Crace, Cat.
p. 646, No. 28.
3. Woodcut of exterior, 1780, in Chambers’s Book of Days, ii. 74.
4. “Labour in Vain, or Fatty in Distress” (St. George’s Spa in the
background), print published by C. Bowles, 1782, Crace, Cat. p. 647,
No. 35, and W. Coll.
5. Engraving of the exterior, 1788 (W. Coll.).
6. Interior of the Assembly Room. A stipple engraving, 1789,
reproduced in Rendle and Norman, Inns of Old Southwark, 373.
7. Sign of Dog and Duck, engraved in Walford, vi. 344; cp. Crace,
Cat. p. 646, No. 32, and Rendle and Norman, Inns of Old Southwark,
p. 369.
THE BLACK PRINCE, NEWINGTON BUTTS
These small gardens, about one acre and a half in extent, were
pleasantly situated on the south bank of the Thames, immediately to
the south of Vauxhall Bridge (built 1811–1816). Under the name of
Smith’s Tea-Gardens they were probably in existence some years
previous to 1779. “A Fête Champêtre, or Grand Rural Masked Ball,”
with illuminations in the garden and the rooms, was advertised to
take place on 22 May, 1779, at 10 p.m., the subscription tickets being
one guinea.
About May 1784 the gardens were taken by Luke Reilly, landlord
of the Freemasons’ Tavern in Great Queen Street, who changed the
name to the Cumberland (or Royal Cumberland) Gardens.[315] At
this time they were open in the afternoon and evening, and visitors to
Vauxhall Gardens sometimes had refreshments there in the arbours
and tea-room while waiting for Vauxhall to open; or adjourned thither
for supper when tired of the larger garden.
In August 1796 a silver cup given by the proprietor was competed
for on the river by sailing boats. In 1797 a ten years’ lease of the
gardens and tavern was advertised to be sold for £1,000.
From 1800 to 1825 the gardens were much frequented by
dwellers in the south of London. Between three and four o’clock in
the morning of May 25, 1825, the tavern was discovered to be on
fire. The engines of Vauxhall Gardens and of the various Insurance
Offices came on the scene, but the fire raged for more than an hour,
and the tavern and the ball-room adjoining were completely
destroyed and the plantation and garden greatly injured. In October
of the same year the property on the premises was sold by the
lessors under an execution and at that time the gardens were, it
would seem, finally closed.[316]
WATERSIDE ENTRANCE TO CUMBERLAND GARDENS.
The South Lambeth Water Works occupied the site for many
years and the Phœnix Works of the South Metropolitan Gas
Company are now on the spot.[317]
[Newspaper cuttings in W. Coll.; Walford, vi. 389, 449; Timbs,
Curiosities of London (1868), p. 18, and Club Life, ii. 261; Picture of
London, 1802, 1823 and 1829; the Courier for 25 and 26 May, 1825;
Allen, Lambeth, p. 379.]
VIEWS.
“Cumberland Gardens, &c.” A view by moonlight of the waterside
entrance to the gardens. Undated (circ. 1800?). W. Coll.
The gardens are well marked in Horwood’s Plan, D. 1799.
VAUXHALL GARDENS
§ 1. 1661–1728
These, the most famous of all the London pleasure gardens, were
known in their earliest days as the New Spring Garden at Vauxhall,
and continued till late in the eighteenth century to be advertised as
Spring Gardens.[318]
The Spring Garden was opened to the public shortly after the
Restoration, probably in 1661.[319] It was a prettily contrived
plantation, laid out with walks and arbours: the nightingale sang in
the trees; wild roses could be gathered in the hedges, and cherries
in the orchard. The Rotunda, the Orchestra, and the Triumphal
Arches, distinctive features of the later Vauxhall, were then non-
existent, and the proprietor’s house from which refreshments were
supplied was probably the only building that broke the charm of its
rural isolation. It was a pleasant place to walk in, and the visitor
might spend what he pleased, for nothing was charged for
admission. It soon became one of the favourite haunts of Pepys,
who first visited it on 29 May 1662. On hot summer days, he would
take water to Foxhall with Deb and Mercer and his wife, to stroll in
the garden alleys, and eat a lobster or a syllabub. On one day in May
(29, 1666) he found two handsome ladies calling on Mrs. Pepys. He
was burdened with Admiralty business—“but, Lord! to see how my
nature could not refrain from the temptation, but I must invite them to
go to Foxhall, to Spring Gardens.”
In a few years the Spring Garden became well known. Fine
people came thither to divert themselves and the citizen also spent
his holiday there, “pulling off cherries [says Pepys] and God knows
what.” The song of the birds was charming, but from about 1667
more sophisticated harmony was furnished by a harp, some fiddles,
and a Jew’s trump. About this time the rude behaviour of the gallants
of the town began to be noted at the Spring Garden. Gentlemen like
“young Newport” and Harry Killigrew, “a rogue newly come back out
of France, but still in disgrace at our Court,” would thrust themselves
into the supper-arbours and almost seize on the ladies, “perhaps civil
ladies,” as Pepys conjectures. “Their mad talk [he adds] did make
my heart ake,” though he himself, at a later time, was found at the
gardens eating and drinking with Mrs. Knipp, “it being darkish.”
During the last thirty years of the seventeenth century, the Spring
Garden, if less perturbed by the Killigrews and Newports, was not a
little notorious as a rendezvous for fashionable gallantry and intrigue.
“’Tis infallibly some intrigue that brings them to Spring Garden” says
Lady Fancyful in ‘The Provoked Wife’ (1697), and Tom Brown
(Amusements, 1700, p. 54) declares that in the close walks of the
gardens “both sexes meet, and mutually serve one another as
guides to lose their way, and the windings and turnings in the little
Wildernesses are so intricate, that the most experienced mothers
have often lost themselves in looking for their daughters.” It is not
hard to picture Mrs. Frail “with a man alone” at Spring Garden;
Hippolita eating a cheese-cake or a syllabub “with cousin,” and the
gallant of Sedley’s ‘Bellamira’ (1687) passing off on Thisbe the fine
compliments that he had already tried on “the flame-coloured
Petticoat in New Spring Garden.”
On the evening of 17 May, 1711, Swift (it is interesting to note)
visited the gardens with Lady Kerry and Miss Pratt, “to hear the
nightingales.”[320] The visit of Addison’s Sir Roger in the spring of
1712 is classical.[321] “We were now arrived at Spring Garden, which
is exquisitely pleasant at this time of year. When I considered the
fragrancy of the walks and bowers, with the choirs of birds that sung
upon the trees, and the loose tribe of people that walked under their
shades, I could not but look upon the place as a kind of Mahometan
Paradise.” You must understand, says the Knight, there is nothing in
the world that pleases a man in love so much as your nightingale.
“He here fetched a deep sigh, and was falling into a fit of musing,
when a mask, who came behind him, gave him a gentle tap upon the
shoulder, and asked him if he would drink a bottle of mead with her.”
The old Knight bid the baggage begone, and retired with his friend
for a glass of Burton and a slice of hung beef. He told the waiter to
carry the remainder to the one-legged waterman who had rowed him
to Foxhall, and, as he left the garden animadverted upon the morals
of the place in his famous utterance on the paucity of nightingales.
In 1726 the Spring Garden is singled out as one of the London
sights,[322] but it would seem that it had fallen into disrepute, and
that fresh attractions and a management less lax were now
demanded.[323]
§ 2. 1732–1767.
In 1728 Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the true founder of Vauxhall Gardens,
obtained from Elizabeth Masters a lease of the Spring Gardens for
thirty years at an annual rent of £250, and by subsequent purchases
(in 1752 and 1758) became the actual owner of the estate. He
greatly altered and improved the gardens, and on Wednesday 7
June 1732 opened Vauxhall with a Ridotto al fresco. The visitors
came between nine and eleven in the evening, most of them wearing
dominoes and lawyers’ gowns, and the company did not separate till
three or four the next morning. The later Vauxhall numbered its
visitors by thousands, but at this fête only about four hundred people
were present, and the guard of a hundred soldiers stationed in the
gardens, with bayonets fixed, was an unnecessary precaution. Good
order prevailed, though a tipsy waiter put on a masquerading dress,
and a pickpocket stole fifty guineas from a visitor, “but the rogue was
taken in the fact.” A guinea ticket gave admission to this
entertainment, which was repeated several times during the summer.
From about 1737 the Spring Gardens began to present certain
features that long remained characteristic. The admission at the gate
was one shilling, the regular charge till 1792, and silver tickets were
issued admitting two persons for the season, which began in April or
May.[324]
An orchestra containing an organ was erected in the garden, and
the concert about this time lasted from five or six till nine. About 1758
this orchestra was replaced by a more elaborate ‘Gothic’ structure
“painted white and bloom colour” and having a dome surmounted by
a plume of feathers. The concert was at first instrumental, but in
1745 Tyers added vocal music, and engaged Mrs. Arne, the elder
Reinhold, and the famous tenor, Thomas Lowe, who remained the
principal singer at Vauxhall till about 1763.
VAUXHALL TICKET BY
HOGARTH (AMPHION ON
DOLPHIN).
On the opening day of the season of 1737 “there was (we read) a
prodigious deal of good company present,” and by the end of the
season Pinchbeck was advertising his New Vauxhall Fan with a view
of the walks, the orchestra, the grand pavilion, and the organ.
The proprietor was fortunate in the patronage of Frederick Prince
of Wales, who had attended the opening Ridotto and often visited
Vauxhall till his death in 1751.[325] On 6 July, 1737, for instance, His
Royal Highness with several ladies of distinction and noblemen of
his household came from Kew by water to the Gardens, with music
attending. The Prince walked in the Grove, commanded several airs
and retired after supping in the Great Room.
Of fashionable patronage Vauxhall had, indeed, no lack till a very
late period of its existence; but the place was never exclusive or
select, and at no other London resort could the humours of every
class of the community be watched with greater interest or
amusement. “Even Bishops (we are assured) have been seen in this
Recess without injuring their Character.” To us, some of its
entertainments seem insipid and the manners and morals of its
frequenters occasionally questionable, but the charm of the place for
our forefathers must have been real, or Vauxhall would hardly have
found a place in our literature and social history. The old accounts
speak of Spring Gardens not only with naïve astonishment, but with
positive affection. “The whole place” (to borrow the remark, and the
spelling, of a last century writer) “is a realisation of Elizium.” One of
the paintings in the gardens represented “Two Mahometans gazing
in wonder at the beauties of the place.” Farmer Colin, after his
week’s trip in town (1741) returned to his wife full of the wonderful
Spring Gardens:—
Oh, Mary! soft in feature,
I’ve been at dear Vauxhall;
No paradise is sweeter,
Not that they Eden call.
VAUXHALL TICKET BY
HOGARTH
(“SUMMER”).