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December 19th
Born: Charles
William Scheele, distinguished chemist, 1742,
Stralsund; Captain William Edward Parry, Arctic
navigator, 1790, Bath.
Died: Frederick Melchior, Baron Grimm,
statesman and wit, 1807, Gotha; Benjamin Smith Barton,
American naturalist, 1815; Augustus Pugin,
architectural draftsman, 1832; Joseph Mallord William
Turner, painter, 1851, Chelsea.
Feast Day: St. Nemesion, and others,
martyrs, 250. St. Samthana, virgin and abbess, 738.
J. M. W. TURNER
Joseph Mallord William Turner, R.A., was the son of
a barber, and was born at his father's shop, in Maiden
Lane, in London, in 1775. The friendly chat of the
celebrities of the time in that room of frizzling and
curling, persuaded Turner, the father, that his son
would become a great man; so he gave him a very fair
education, and in his rude way encouraged the lad's
taste for art. The son formed a close friendship with
a clever young artist like himself, Girtin, who would have been, had he lived,
some critics say, his great rival. Turner himself used good-naturedly to assert:
'If poor Tom had lived, I should have starved.'
In 1789, Turner entered the Royal Academy as a
student. After remaining there in that capacity for
five years, and working actively at his profession for
other five, during which periods he sent to the
exhibition no less than fifty-nine pictures, he was
elected in 1799 an associate of the Royal Academy. In
the two following years he exhibited fourteen
pictures, and in 1802 was elected an academician. Till
this date he had chiefly been known as a landscape
painter in water-colours, but thenceforth he turned
his attention to oil-painting, and in the ensuing
half-century produced at the Academy exhibitions
upwards of two hundred pictures. In 1807, he was
elected professor of perspective in the Royal Academy,
and the following year appeared his Liber Studiorum,
or Book of Studies, which Charles Turner, Mr. Lupton,
and others, engraved. Other engraved works by him are
his illustrations of Lord Byron's
and Sir Walter
Scott's poems; Roger's Italy and Poems; The Rivers of
England; The Rivers of France, and Scenery of the
Southern Coast.
To enumerate the different paintings
of Turner would be impossible. They have established
him as the greatest of English landscape painters, and
earned for him the appellation of the 'English
Claude,' to whom, indeed, many of his admirers
pronounce him superior. Among his more famous
pictures, reference may specially be made to his Kilchurn Castle, Loch Awe;' 'The
Tenth Plague of
Egypt;' 'The Wreck of the Minotaur;' 'Calais Pier;'
'The Fighting Temeraire Tugged to her Last Berth;'
'The Grand Canal, Venice;' ' Dido and Eneas;' 'The
Golden Bough;' 'Modern Italy;' 'The Fall of Carthage,'
and 'The Building of Carthage.' The sea in all its
varied aspects, but chiefly under that of gloom or
tempests; bright sunny landscapes and noble buildings,
lighted up by the glowing rays of the setting sun; and
generally nature in her weird-like and unwonted moods,
form the favourite themes of this great artist.
Through all his productions the genius of a poet
declares itself, impressing us with the same
mysterious feeling of ineffable grandeur that we
experience in reading the works of Dante or Milton.
The eccentricity of his colouring and indefiniteness
of his figures, rendering many of his later pictures,
to ordinary observers, nothing more than a splash or
unmeaning medley, have been frequently animadverted
on; and with respect to the pictures executed during
the last twenty years of his life, it cannot be
denied, notwithstanding their unfailing
suggestiveness, that much of this censure is well
founded.
The Royal Academy treated Turner well, and he, in
return, adhered to it devotedly to his death, But the
prime of his life was spent in struggles with poverty,
in unmerited obscurity, and battles with his
employers. He had a rigid sense of justice, and a
proud consciousness of his own merits and the dignity
of his art. The pertinacity with which he exacted the
last shilling in all cases made him seem mean. The
natural way in which he continued to retain the
simple, we might say uncouth, habits which poverty
taught him, after he became wealthy, caused him to be
branded as a miser. His gruff and peculiar ways, his
honesty, as well as his proficiency, made him many
enemies. But he lived to reach a high pinnacle of
popularity, and to know himself fairly appreciated.
Turner's life is a strange story, a narrative at
once painfully and pleasingly interesting. Many seeds
of human frailty, many taints of a vulgar origin were
never uprooted, though ever kept in check by a truly
noble soul. Turner was emphatically a child of nature.
His faults were natural frailties not restrained, his
virtues rather good impulses than acquired principles.
When he rudely dismissed a beggar-woman, and then ran
after her with a five-pound note, he furnished a key
which unlocks his whole life.
We must set one thing against another. Turner was
rough and blunt; yet of how many could it be said,
that 'he was never known to say an ill word of any
human being, never heard to utter one word of
depreciation of a brother-artist's work?' Let the
reader learn to wonder at Turner's greatness, by
applying to himself such a test. A curious tale is
told of his obstinacy. He was visiting at Lord
Egremont's. He and his host quarrelled so desperately
as to whether the number of windows in a certain
building was six or seven, that the carriage was
ordered, and Turner driven to the spot, to count them
for himself, and be convinced of his mistake. But on
another occasion, when Lord Egremont ordered up a
bucket of water and some carrots, to settle a question
about their swimming, Turner proved to be in the
right.
He was fond of privacy, and on this subject
Chantrey's stratagem, by which he got into the
artist's studio, long remained a standing joke against
Turner. There were some things, unhappily, connected
with his private life, which were wisely kept
concealed; and when, to an unknown residence, which he
had at Chelsea, the old man retired at last to die, he
was only discovered by his friends the day before his
final journey.
Undoubtedly, Turner was fond of hoarding, but he
was too great to become a miser. He hoarded his
sketches even more eagerly than his sixpences. If he
amassed �140,000, it was to leave it to found a
charity for needy artists. This was his life's wish.
If his grasping was great, his pride was greater. For
when his grand picture of 'Carthage' was refused by
some one, for whom it was painted to order, at the
price of �100, Turner, in his pride, resolved to leave
it to the nation. 'At a great meeting at Somerset
House, where Sir Robert Peel, Lord Hardinge, and
others were present, it was unanimously agreed to buy
two pictures of Turner, and to present them to the
National Gallery, as monuments of art for eternal
incitement and instruction to artists and all
art-lovers. A memorial was drawn up, and presented to
Turner by his sincere old friend, Mr. Griffiths, who
exulted in the pleasant task. The offer was �5000 for
the two pictures, the 'Rise,' and 'Fall of
Carthage.' Turner read the memorial, and his eyes
brightened. He was deeply moved: he shed tears; for he
was capable, as all who knew him well knew, of intense
feeling. He expressed the pride and delight he felt at
such a noble offer from such men, but he added
sternly, directly he read the word 'Carthage'�'No, no;
they shall not have it,' at the same time informing
Mr. Griffiths of his prior intention.
All his friends loved him, and he was really, as we
have stated, no miser. There was silver found under
his pillow, when he left any place he had been staying
at; but this was because he was too sensitive to offer
it to the servants in person. We read of him paying,
of his own accord, for expensive artist-dinners, of
his giving a merry picnic, of his sending upwards of
�20,000 secretly to the aid of a former patron.
Turner was generous-hearted, too, in other than
pecuniary matters. He pulled his own picture down, to
find a place for the picture of some insignificant
young artist, whom he wished to encourage. He
blackened a bright sky in one of his academy pictures,
which hung between two of Lawrence's, so as to cast
its merits into the shade. In this befouled condition,
he allowed his own production to remain throughout the
exhibition; and whispered to a friend, to allay his
indignation: 'Poor Lawrence was so distressed; never
mind, it'll wash off; it 's only lampblack!'
His genuine affections were never drawn out. The
history of his first love is a sad story of
disappointment, enough to darken a life. He always
stuck close to his old 'dad,' as he called him; but
quitted, much to the old man's disappointment, a
pleasant country-house and garden, for a dull house in
town. The reason for this proceeding oozed out one day
in conversation with a friend: 'Dad would work in the
garden, and was always catching cold.'
This great artist's will, after all, was so loosely
expressed, that its intentions were to a great extent
frustrated, and the bulk of his property, which he had
bequeathed for national and artistic purposes, was
successfully claimed by his relatives. By a
compromise, however, effected with the latter, the
magnificent series of oil-paintings and drawing,,
known as the Turner Collection, have been secured for
our national galleries as the most exalted trophies of
British art.
ALMANACS
FOR THE ENSUING YEAR
The year is now drawing to its close, the Christmas
festivities are in active preparation, and almost
every one is looking forward with cheerful
anticipation to the welcome variety from the regular
pursuits and monotonous routine of ordinary life,
which characterises the death of the Old year, and the
birth of the New one. Youngsters at school are looking
eagerly forward to the delights of home and the
holidays�the intermission from study and scholastic
restraint; the sliding, skating, and other sports of
the season; the mince-pies, the parties, and the
pantomimes. A universal bustle and anticipation
everywhere prevails. Hampers with turkeys, geese,
bacon, and other substantial provisions are coming up
in shoals to town as presents from country friends;
whilst barrels of pickled oysters, and boxes of cakes,
dried fruits, and bonbons find their way in no less
force to the provinces. Nor in thus providing for
material and gastronomic enjoyment, are the more
refined and intellectual cravings of humanity
neglected. Christmas-books of all shapes, sizes, and
subject-matter blaze forth magnificently in
booksellers' windows, decked in all the colours of the
rainbow, resplendent in all the gorgeousness of modern
bookbinding, and displaying the grandest trophies of
typographic and illustrative skill. The publishers of
the various popular periodicals now put forth the 'extra Christmas number,' and
the interest and
curiosity excited by this last are shared with the
graver and more business-like 'almanacs for the
ensuing year.'
The time-honoured street-cry just quoted, may still
be heard echoing through many of our public
thoroughfares, though it is probably much less common
now than it used to be, when itinerant venders of all
kinds found a greater toleration from the authorities,
and a far readier market with the public for their
wares. In the present day, people generally resort to
the regular book-sellers or stationers for their
almanacs. Here purchasers of all means and tastes may
be suited, whether they desire a large and
comprehensive almanac, which, in addition to the mere
calendar, may furnish them with information on all
matters of business and general utility throughout the
year, or whether they belong to that class whose
humble wants in this direction are satisfied by the
expenditure of a penny.
It is well known that the Stationers' Company of
London enjoyed, in former times, a monopoly of the
printing of all books; and long after this privilege
had gradually been withdrawn from them, they continued
to assert the exclusive right of publishing almanacs;
but this claim was successfully contested in 1775 by
Thomas Carnan, a book-seller in St. Paul's Churchyard,
who obtained a decision against the company in the
Court of Common Pleas, and this judgment was
subsequently concurred in by parliament, after an
animated discussion. The Stationers' Company continued
the publication of almanacs with considerable profit
to themselves, notwithstanding this infringement of
what they deemed a vested right; and to the present
day this branch of trade, the sole relic of a business
which formerly comprehended the whole world of
literature, forms, in spite of competition, a most
profitable source of revenue to the association.

'Almanac Day' at Stationer's Hall
The
day on which the Stationers' Company issue their
almanacs to the public (on or near the 22
nd
November) presents a very animated and exciting scene,
and is delineated in the accompanying engraving. We
quote the following description from Knight's London:
'Let us
step into Ludgate Street, and from thence through the
narrow court on the northern side to the Hall. The
exterior seems to tell us nothing, to suggest nothing,
unless it be that of a very commonplace looking
erection of the seventeenth century, and therefore
built after the fire which destroyed everything in
this neighbourhood; so we enter. Ha! here are signs of
business.'
The Stationers cannot, like so many of its
municipal brethren, be called a dozing company; indeed
it has a reputation for a quality of a somewhat
opposite kind. All over the long tables that extend
through the hall, which is of considerable size, and
piled up in tall heaps on the floor, are canvas bales
or bags innumerable. This is the 22nd
of November. The
doors are locked as yet, but will be opened presently
for a novel scene. The clock strikes, wide asunder
start the gates, and in they come, a whole army of
porters, darting hither and thither, and seizing the
said bags, in many instances as big as themselves.
Before we can well understand what is the matter, men
and bags have alike vanished�the hall is clear;
another hour or two, and the contents of the latter
will be flying along railways, east, west, north, and
south; yet another day, and they will be dispersed
throughout every city and town, and parish and hamlet
of England; the curate will be glancing over the pages
of his little book to see what promotions have taken
place in the church, and sigh as he thinks of
rectories, and deaneries, and bishoprics; the sailor
will be deep in the mysteries of tides and new moons
that are learnedly expatiated upon in the pages of
his; the believer in the stars will be finding new
draughts made upon that Bank of Faith, impossible to
be broken or made bankrupt�his superstition as he
turns over the pages of his Moore�but we have let out
our secret.
Yes, they are all almanacs�those bags
contained nothing but almanacs: Moore's and
Partridge's, and Ladies' and Gentlemen's, and
Gold-smiths', and Clerical, and White's celestial, or
astronomical, and gardening almanacs�the last, by the
way, a new one of considerable promise, and we hardly
know how many others. It is even so. The�at one
time�printers and publishers of everything, Bibles,
prayer-books, school-books, religion, divinity,
politics, poetry, philosophy, history, have become at
last publishers only of these almanacs and
'prognostications,' which once served but to eke out
the small means of their poorer members. And even in
almanacs they have no longer a monopoly. Hundreds of
competitors are in the field. And, notwithstanding,
the Stationers are a thriving company. In the general
progress of literature, the smallest and humblest of
its departments has become so important as to support
in vigorous prosperity, in spite of a most vigorous
opposition, the company, in which all literature�in a
trading sense�was at one time centered and monopolised!
'
It is not necessary here to enter into the
history
of almanacs, a subject which has already been
thoroughly discussed in the introduction to this work.
We may remark, nevertheless, that till a comparatively
recent period, the general subject-matter of which the
majority of almanacs was composed, reflected little
credit, either on the general progress of the nation
in intelligence, or the renowned company by whom these
books were supplied. The gross superstitions and even
indecencies which disfigured Poor Relict's Almanac,
and the predictions and other absurdities of the
publications bearing the names of Partridge and Moore,
continued to flourish with unimpaired vigour up to
1828. In that year, the Society for the Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge issued in the British Almanac a quiet
protest against the worthless pabulum hitherto
supplied to the public. This new work both found
extended favour with the public, and produced a signal
reform in most of the popular almanacs. In the
following year, Poor Robin disappeared altogether from
the stage; a great portion of the astrology which
pervaded the other almanacs was retrenched; and since
that period the publications of the Stationers'
Company have kept pace with the growing requirements
and improved tastes of the age.
LONDON
STREET NOMENCLATURE
The sponsors of Old London performed their duties
more conscientiously than most of their successors; as
a consequence, the names of the older streets of the
capital serve not only as keys to their several
histories, but as landmarks by which we can measure
the changes wrought by time in the topographical
features of the city. The streams which once murmured
pleasantly near the abodes of the Londoners have long
since been degraded into sewers, but their memory is
pre-served in the streets of Fleet, Walbrook, and
Holborn (old bourne), the ward of Lanz bourne, and the
parish of St. Marylebone�a corruption of St. Mary-le-bourne.
The favourite trysting-places of the youthful
citizens, the wells to which. they flocked in the
sweet summer-time, have left their names to
Clerkenwell, Holywell Street, Bridewell, and Monkwell
Street; as the mineral springs have to Spafields and
Bagnigge Wells Road. The wall that encompassed the
city has disappeared, with all its gates, but London
Wall, Aldgate, Aldersgate, Moorgate, Bishopsgate,
Newgate, Cripplegate, and Ludgate, are still familiar
words. Barbican marks the site of the ancient
burgh-kenning or watch-tower. Covent Garden and Hatton
Garden remind us that trees bore fruit and flowers
once bloomed. in these now stony precincts, while Vine
Street (the site of the vineyard of the royal palace
at Westminster), and Vinegar Yard, Drury Lane
(originally Vine-garden Yard), speak of the still more
distant day when the grape was cultivated successfully
in town.
Cheapside was the principal market or chepe in
London; the fish-market was held in Fish Street, the
herb-market in Grass (Grace) Church Street,
corn-dealers congregated in Cornhill, bakers in Bread
Street, and dairymen in Milk Street. Friday Street
takes its name from a fish-market opened there on
Fridays. Goldsmith's Row, Silver Street, Hosier
Street, Cordwainer Street (now Bow Lane), and the
Poultry, were inhabited respectively by goldsmiths,
silversmiths, stocking-sellers, boot-makers, and
poulterers. Garlick Hill was famous for its garlic. In
Sermon, or Shermonier's Lane, dwelt the cutters of the
metal to be coined into pence. Ave-Maria Lane, Creed
Lane, and Paternoster Row, were occupied principally
by the writers and publishers of books containing the
alphabet, ayes, creeds, and paternosters. Cloth-fair
was the resort of drapers and clothiers, and the
Haymarket justified its name until 1830, when the
market was removed to another quarter.
The Northumberland lion still looks over Charing
Cross, and a peer of the realm resides, or did reside
a few years ago, in Islington, yet no one would look
for a duke in Clerkenwell, or expect to find
aristocratic mansions just out of the lord mayor's
jurisdiction. Such associations were not always
incongruous, the town-houses of the Earls of Aylesbury
and the Dukes of Newcastle stood on the ground now
occupied by Aylesbury and Newcastle Streets,
Clerkenwell; Devonshire House did not give way to the
square of that name (Bishopsgate Without) till the
year 1690, and in earlier times the kingmaker feasted
his dependents where Warwick Lane abuts on Newgate
Street. Succumbing to fashion's constant cry of
'Westward ho!' the old mansions of the nobility have
been pulled down one by one, bequeathing their names
to the houses erected on their sites. To this
aristocratic migration London owes its squares of
Bedford, Berkeley, Leicester, and Salisbury, and the
streets rejoicing in the high-sounding names of
Exeter, Grafton, Newport, Albemarle, Montague,
Arundel, Argyll, Brooke, Burleigh, Chesterfield, and
Coventry. Clare-market tells where the town-house of
the Earls of Clare stood. Essex Street (Strand) takes
its name from the mansion of Elizabeth's ill-fated
favourite; Dorset Court (Fleet Street), from that of
the poetical earl; and Scotland Yard marks the site of
the lodging used by the kings of Scotland and their
ambassadors. Bangor Court (Shoe Lane), Durham Street
(Strand), Bonner's Fields, Ely Place (Holborn), and
York Buildings (Strand) are called after long-vanished
episcopal palaces. The religious houses of the
Dominican, Augustine, White and Crouched Friars, have
their memory preserved in Blackfriars, Austin-friars,
Whitefriars, and Crutched-friars. Mincing-lane derived
its name from certain tenements belonging to the nuns
or minchuns of St. Helen, and Spitalfields took its
appellation from the neighbouring priory of St. Mary
Spital.
Euston Square, Fitzroy Square, Russell Square,
Tavistock Street, Portland Place, and Portman Square,
are named after the titles of the ground-landlords;
one celebrated nobleman has thus commemorated both
name and dignity in George Street, Villiers Street,
Duke Street, Of Alley, and Buckingham Street. Woburn
Square, Eaton Square, and Ecclestown Street, Pimlico,
were named after the country-seats of the landowners
who built them. Sometimes street names have been
conferred in compliment to individuals more or less
famous. Charles, King, and Henrietta Streets, Covent
Garden, and Queen's Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, were
so styled in honour of Charles I. and his consort;
Charles Street, James Square, was named after the
Merry Monarch; York and James Streets (Covent Garden),
after his brother. Rupert Street (Haymarket) was so
designated after fiery Rupert of the Rhine; Princes
Street, Wardour Street, after James I's eldest son,
whose military garden occupied a portion of the site;
Nassau Street, Soho, was so called in compliment to
William III; Queen's Square (Bloomsbury), after Queen
Anne; and Hanover Square, in honour of her successor.
Later, still, we have Regent Street, King William
Street, Adelaide Street, with Victoria and Albert
Streets without number. Theobald's Road was James I's
route to his Hertfordshire hunting-seat; King's Road,
Chelsea, George III's favourite road to Kew.
The
famous 'Mr. Harley,' afterwards Earl of Oxford, gave
Oxford Street its name; Denvill Street (Clare Market)
was called after one of the five members whose
attempted arrest by Charles I was the commencement of
the momentous struggle between King and Commons. The
list of 'In Memoriam' streets is a long one; among
them are Greville Street, Holborn�from Fulke Greville,
the friend of Sir
Philip Sidney; Hans Place and
Sloane
Street�after Sir
Hans Sloane, the architect of
the
Bank of England, and Lord of Chelsea Manor;
Southampton Street, Strand�in honour of Lady Rachel
Russell, the model-wife, who was a daughter of the
Earl of Southampton; Suffolk Street, Southwark�after
Brandon, the earl of that name, who married Henry
VIII's sister, Mary; Stafford Row, Pimlico�from Lord
Stafford, one of Oates's victims; Throgmorton
Street�from Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, said to have
been poisoned by the Earl of Leicester; Hare Court
Temple--after Sir N. Hare, Master of the Rolls in the
reign of Elizabeth; Cumberland Street and Gate�after
the victor of Culloden Field. Literary celebrities
come in for but a small share of brick-and-mortar
compliments.
Mrs. Montagu, the authoress, lives in
Montagu Place (Portman Square); Killigrew, the wit,
has given his name to a court in Scotland Yard; and
Milton has received the doubtful compliment of having
the notorious Grub Street of the Dunciad days
rededicated to him. The founder of the Foundling
Hospital is justly commemorated in Great Comm Street;
and Lamb, the charitable cloth-worker, who built a
conduit at Holborn in 1577, has his munificence
recorded in Lamb's Conduit Street. Downing Street
takes its name from Sir George Downing, secretary to
the treasury in 1667; and the once fashionable Bond
Street was called after Henrietta Maria's comptroller
of the household. Barton Booth, the Cato of Addison's
tragedy, has left his name in Barton Street,
Westminster; the adjacent Cowley Street, being called
after his birthplace. These are not the only
thoroughfares connected with the drama; the site of
the old Fortune Theatre is marked by Playhouse Yard
(Central Street); and that of the Red Bull Theatre, by
Red Bull Yard (St. John's Street Row). Globe Alley and
Rose Alley are mementoes of those famous playhouses;
while the Curtain Theatre is represented by the road
of that name. Apollo Court, Fleet Street, reminds us
of Jonson's glorious sons of Apollo. Spring Gardens (Charing
Cross) was a favourite resort of pleasure-seekers in
Pepy's time, but nought but its name is left now to
recall its fame, a fate that has befallen its rival
Vauxhall.
Old Street was the old highway to the north-eastern
parts of the country. Knight Rider Street was the
route of knights riding to take part in the Smithfield
tournaments. Execution Dock, Wapping, was the scene of
the last appearance of many a bold pirate and
salt-water thief. Bowl Yard (St Giles's) was the spot
where criminals were presented with a bowl of ale on
their way to Tyburn. Finsbiuy and
Moorfields were
originally fens and moors; Houndsditch was an open
ditch noted for the number of dead dogs cast into it;
Shoreditch was known as Soersditch long before the
goldsmith's frail wife existed. Paul's Chain owes its
name to a chain or barrier that used to be drawn
across St. Paul's Churchyard, to insure quietness
during the hours of divine worship. The Great and
Little Turnstiles were originally closed by revolving
barriers, in order to keep the cattle pastured in
Lincoln's Inn Fields from straying into Holborn. The
Sanctuary (Westminster) was once what its name
implies. The Birdcage-Walk (St James's Park) derived
its name from an aviary formed by James I. The
aristocratic neighbourhood of May Fair is so called
from the annual fair of St. James, which was held
there till the year 1809.
Corruption has done its work with street-names. The
popular love of abbreviation has transformed the Via
de Alwych (the old name for Drury Lane) into Wych
Street, and Gatherum into Gutter Lane, while vulgar
mispronunciation has altered Desmond into Deadman's
Place, Sidon into Sything and Seething Lane,
Candlewick into Cannon Street, Strypes Court (named
after the historian's father) into Tripe Court, St.
Olave's into Tooley Street, Golding into Golden
Square, Birch over into Birchin Lane, Blanche-Appleton
into Blind-chapel Court, and Knightenguild Lane (so
called from tenements pertaining to the knighten-guild
created by Edgar the Saxon) into Nightingale Lane.
Battersea figures in Domesday Book as Patricesy,
passing to its present form through the intermediate
ones of Baltrichsey and Battersey; Chelsea, known to
the Saxons as Cealchylle, and to Sir Thomas More as
Chelcith, is, according to Norden, 'so called from the
nature of the place, whose strand is like the diesel,
coesel or cesol, which the sea casteth up, of sand and
pebble stones, thereof called. Cheselsey, briefly
Chelsey.'
In the fourteenth century, Kentish-town was
known as Kamiteloe; Lambeth assumes the various shapes
of Lamedh, Lamhee, Lamheth, and Lambyth; Stepney was
once Stebenhede, and afterwards Stebenhytlie;
Islington took the form of Isendune, Iseldon or
Eyseldon; Kensington was Chenesitune, and
Knightsbridge appears in the reign of Edward. III as
'the town of Knighbrigg.' Other changes have been
wrought by mere caprice. There may have been reasons
for converting Petty Prance into New Broad. Street,
Dirty Street into Abingdon Street, Stinking Lane,
otherwise Chick Lane, otherwise Blow-bladder Lane,
otherwise Butcher-hall Lane, into King Edward Street,
Knave's Acre into Poultney Street, Duck Lane into Duke
Street, and Pedlar's Acre into Belvedere Road; but
Cato Street (the scene of Thistlewood's conspiracy),
Monmouth Street (celebrated for its frippery and
second-hand garments), Dyot Street, and Shire Lane
(which marked the line of boundary between the city
and the county), might well have been left in
possession of these old names; nothing has been gained
by rechristening them Homer Street, Dudley Street,
George Street, and Lower Searle's Place.
December 20th
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