17 Gough Square
City of London EC4A 3DE
Wednesday November 12 2014
We had a commitment for lunch-time so an 11AM start suited us
very well; Mary still being overseas, Jo and Linda arrived by bus and took a
short walk from the bustle of Fleet Street and Farringdon Road. Gough Square is
a surprisingly small and quiet enclave between these two more major
thoroughfares. In fact Johnson lived in over a dozen different addresses during
his time in London but think of this residence as ‘Johnson – the Dictionary
Years’ with apologies to Sue Townsend
and Adrian Mole.
Johnson was born in Lichfield Staffordshire and seemed to
have been a rather sickly child – it is thought that he had
scrofula, a type of
tuberculosis and seemed to suffer with his chest for most of his
life. Nothwithstanding this, most
accounts and portraits depict him as singularly robust and he was clearly fond
of his food. He lived from 1709 to 1784 making him a near contemporary of last
week’s ‘collector’ John Hunter. Sam Johnson was no collector – in fact he had
great trouble hanging on to money at all – unless you see him as a collector of
words. He rented this property as it was close to his printer, a Scot named William
Strahan.
The house has four stories plus a basement, where now are
located the museum’s office and toilets.
The public enters into the Dining Room from a side door
probably added later. Each room is simply furnished with plain tables and
chairs to allow the visiting public to sit and read the copious laminated room notes, which give some information
about Johnson and his many friends and acquaintances. Basically he moved in celebrity circles and
knew the actors, writers, politicians and clergymen of the day. Unusually for
the time he was open to mixing with women on an equal footing and entertained
the so-called ‘
blue-stockings' of the day
'along with all the men. These were formidable women who translated the
classics, wrote letters and journals
and travelled. Each room contains a
range of prints pictures and portraits, many of them by or copies of Reynolds,
as he too was a friend of Johnson’s. Surprisingly (to me at least) the one person
he did not entertain here was his eventual biographer, James Boswell, as they
met after he moved on in the neighbourhood.
From entering the dining room which is now the ticket office
and shop (with a nice range of postcards giving the most famous of his
quotations – it also has a neat cellaret in the corner handy for storing more
stock) you enter the actual hall behind the very impressive front door. Apart
from the massive chain, made by the women chainmakers of Edgbaston (pioneers of
claiming for a 5 day week) and bolts there are spikes across the upper fanlight
to deter any one from posting a small child thief through the top of the door!
Apparently Johnson was often in debt and tended to keep front door callers at
bay.
The front parlour has the original wood panelling and a
rather lovely striking upright clock. It
is also the room where the museum commemorates the life and times of Johnson’s
servant
Francis Barber
(probably a name given by his plantation owner in Orange
County Jamaica before he was sold on when the plantation came under the hammer).
But a lad when he came to England, he was sent to school by Johnson and he
remained with Johnson till the latter’s death; Francis (Frank) married an
English girl and was left £70 by Johnson in his will (considered a generous legacy for a servant) . Rather
movingly Francis and his wife née Elizabeth Ball moved to Lichfield after his
master’s death.
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Johnson had himself married another Elizabeth who was some
20 years his senior but she died soon after they moved to this house. He never
remarried and apparently lived in some fear of being alone; hence perhaps the
relentless socialising. The other
memorable (or not) figure depicted in this room is the Earl of Chesterfield who
was supposed to be the patron and sponsor of the Dictionary but put virtually
no money upfront and then only a small amount on publication. Admittedly
Johnson had reckoned three years and the completed work took him seven , which
is still a MASSIVE achievement when you think it took the whole French Academy
forty years…
The Parlour has a Powder Cupboard even larger than the one
we saw at Southside House – the ubiquitous wigs, seen in most portraits in the
house needed a space somewhere. The
centrally located stairs lead up to two very handsome adjoining rooms, a withdrawing room for
‘ladies’ to one side and Elizabeth Carter (she of the Classical translations)
had a room here also. The pretty little ‘whatnot’, a piece of
furniture like a cake stand, is hers. The
delicate glass fronted bookcases hold their works. Also here you can see a
chest used by David Garrick the actor; he had been a pupil of Johnson’s during
his brief phase as a school teacher in Lichfield and followed him to London. Johnsons’ father had been a bookseller, who
travelled the Midlands with his stock but was not good financially and Samuel
was not able to complete his education at Pembroke College Oxford when money
for fees ran out…
The views from this room are charming and include a
Victorian addition of a stained glass window and a memorial to Hodge, the cat (also
commemorated in a statue down the square). Johnson of course would have had the
real thing. One of the few artefacts in the house includes an excellent brass
door knocker with Johnson as the handle bit and the cat as where you strike.
Once in London Johnson became a jobbing journalist working
for a variety of publications – the ‘Rambler’ and the ‘Gentlemen’s Magazine’ – but
became well known for his parliamentary reports in an era where parliament did
not really allow reporting. On the basis of his facility with words he was
approached to compile a dictionary. There had been attempts and compilations
before but Samuel Johnson was the first to give examples and contexts for the
different meanings of words often using literary quotations. Additionally he
addressed all parts of speech. Like many
before and since he tried to ‘rationalise’ English spelling but soon realised
this was a non-starter and stuck to the original plan of the dictionary.
Upstairs another level is in fact the library, which
probably was used as a bedroom – more portraits of friends and peers line the
room. In one corner there is a video with re-enacters going through a conversation
between Johnson and Boswell – the sort of questions he would have asked prior
to writing the biography but also ones that enhance the visitors understanding
of the man and his times. There is a stunningly lively description of the shops
and delights of Fleet Street from a German satirist who lived nearby:
‘The street looked as though it was illuminated for
some festivity; the apothecaries and druggists display glasses filled with
gay-coloured spirits, in which Dietrich’s lackey could bathe; they suffuse
many a wide space with purple yellow verdigris-green or azure light. The
confectioners dazzle your eyes with their candelabra and tickle your nose with
their wares… Above this din and the hum
and clatter of thousands of tongues and feet one hears the chimes from church towers, the bells of the postmen,
the organs the fiddles the hurdy-gurdies and the tambourines of the English
mountebanks, and the cries of those who sell hot and cold viands in the open at
street corners… Suddenly a man whose
handkerchief had been stolen will cry ’Stop Thief’ and everyone will begin
running and pushing and shoving—many of them not with any desire of catching
the thief, but of prigging for themselves, perhaps a watch or purse.’
The museum visitor is
offered headphones to maintain the calm atmosphere of the house.
It is on this level that you get introduced to the Thrales
of Southwark (where Mr. ran a brewery: he was the money, she was the brains)
and of Streatham where he lived with his wife Hester. They became close friends
of Johnson, and he often spent time with them away from ‘London’. After Henry died Johnson and Hester continued
their relationship through her second marriage to her children’s Italian piano
teacher. A cabinet displays her ‘tea equipage’ (tea-set to you and me)
reminding us how important a ceremony this was for the times and especially the
women (see
Twinings Museum).
The top floor is the Garret but actually pretty roomy and
with more than adequate head room. Here Johnson assembled a half dozen helpers
(paid interns hopefully) who sorted his work but did not do the definitions
while he worked on the dictionary – at times ‘dull work’ as he put it. There are two volumes available to browse on
the table. It is impressive to think
there was no replacement work of similar stature until the Oxford English
Dictionary of the early 20
th Century.
Up here are reminders that this garret was used by ARP
wardens during the war for ‘R&R‘ including some music making, and that a
bomb did destroy part of the roof (and neighbouring cottage) . Fortunately the
house was rescued and restored and opened for paying visitors (reductions for
National Trust members). It is a great place to learn more about one of
London’s real characters and his salon society; he appreciated brevity and
clarity so I would today have fallen short of his expectations and high
standards.
We have had quite a serious and warlike time recently, so it was with great pleasure that Mary, Linda and I met outside the Fan Museum for a bit of delicacy and elegance. The Museum is housed in two Georgian terrace houses, and was charming in every way. The people on reception were informative and friendly (and National Trust members get a serious discount!) The Fan Makers have had guild status since the early 18th century, and exhibitions have played a part in their history from the start. In France, there were different guilds for the makers of different components. The Fan Museum itself is the outcome of generous patronage by Dickie and Helen Alexander, the former head of Securicor and his wife, whose portrait hangs in one of the downstairs rooms.
The street sign of a Japanese fan maker marks the doorway to the shop, but we ignored the retail opportunities for the moment, while learning the names for the different parts of the fan (leaf, ribs, guard and sticks) and then examining the detailed displays. There were pictures of Indian fixed fans, punkahs, and also examples of Malaysian and Sri Lankan fans. A round fixed fan is called a 'cockade fan' by the way. But the French and other European fans are the real treasures. Ivory is now unacceptable; but when you see how finely and delicately it can be carved, you can understand why craft workers loved it so much. Apparently (don't read this next phrase, Sophie) hippopotamus teeth were also used. There were examples of mother-of -pearl and tortoiseshell fans.
Some of the leaves (see, we had read the information about components of the fan) were mounted as pictures on the wall. One was by Gaugin, and one by Sickert: an illustration of the music hall song 'the boy I love is up in the gallery'. The ground floor also had modern electric fans, of the Xpellair variety and a modern Dyson bladeless fan.
On the way upstairs (proper carpet! we liked that) we passed fans made for the 1878 Paris Exhibition as well as early 18th century Japanese fans.
The lady at the entrance had explained that, because of the fragility and light sensitivity of the Collection, the Museum has changing exhibitions, and the current one is 'Visions of Beauty'. We have seldom come across a more appropriate name for an Exhibition. Many of these fans were from the early 18th century, with mother-of-pearl or ivory sticks, often with extra embellishments in silver. We learned that the reverse of the leaf (which faces the user) would also have a design on it, though usually simpler than the 'public' face.
As a lifelong reader of Georgette Heyer, I had always been puzzled by the concept of a 'chicken skin' fan, but we now know that this is a very fine form of kid. One of these had a picture of Bacchus and Ariadne by Guido Reni: the painting was sold by Henrietta Maria to raise money for her husband Charles I in the Civil War, but he fan still exists.
There were fans with recognisable people (the mistresses of French Kings, for example) and one of two actors, surrounded by their five children; the rest of the leaf had scenes from various productions.
We were interested to see a couple of 'eventails a necessaire': fans which also contained smelling salts, rouge, sewing kits and so on. Some of these were from the 18th century but there was also an art deco one in celluloid with a tiny powder compact in the handle.
The Exhibition extends into the 20th century, with a group of wooden fans, using pretty ladies to advertise various products: a forerunner, we supposed, of promotional calendars.
We then went down into the shop, which is very reasonably priced and has some lovely things in it, and also made use of the award winning loos. We cannot, of course, speak for the Gents, but the Ladies had fan shaped soap in a fan shaped dish, a flower arrangement and a comfy chair in case of need. On the back of each door was the Grand Magazine's 1760 encomium in praise of fans.
