"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage:
Minds, innocent and quiet, take
That for an hermitage.
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soare above,
Enjoy such liberty."
Here were confined, also, Goodman, Bishop of Gloucester; and Sir Jeffrey Hudson, the little dwarf, who was first in the service of the Duchess of Buckingham, and afterwards in that of Queen Henrietta Maria, and was twice painted by Vandyck. Hudson died in the prison. Hampden, Sir John Eliot, and Lilly, the astrologer, were imprisoned at various times, and Titus Oates died in the gatehouse in his sixty-third year. Richard Savage, the poet, adds another name to the list. In 1776 the Dean and Chapter of Westminster ordered that the gatehouse should be pulled down, but one wall, adjoining the house once inhabited by Edmund Burke, was still standing in 1836.
Close by was Thieving Lane, through which thieves were taken to the prison without passing by the sanctuary and claiming its immunity.
Within the High Gate was the Abbey Precinct, and with this we pass into by far the most interesting part of Westminster—that part that may be called the nucleus, round which cluster so many historical memories that the mere task of recording them is very great.
PART III
THE HEART OF WESTMINSTER.
As we, in imagination, pass through the ancient prison gate, at the east end of Victoria Street, we find on the left Prince's Street, formerly called Long Ditch. His Majesty's Stationery Office stands on the east, a large dull brick building, stuccoed in front, built round a courtyard. Lewisham Street and Parker Street are long narrow foot-passages, running east and west, the latter a cul-de-sac. The tablet on the wall is much worn, but seems to have borne the date "Parker Street, 1621." This is in accordance with the lines of old flat-casemented, two-story houses which line each side of the street.
Westminster Hospital originated in 1715 at a small house in Birdcage Walk from which outdoor relief was administered. Five years later the hospital began to receive in-patients, and in 1724 began a new lease of usefulness in a building in Chapel Street with accommodation for sixty in-patients. Nine years after the removal to Chapel Street the hospital was transferred to James Street. This change of position was objected to by part of the governing body, who seceded, and eventually established St. George's Hospital at Hyde Park Corner. In 1834 the present building was erected. It was the first to be established by voluntary contributions in London. It is unique in possessing an incurable ward, and in the system of nursing, which is carried out by contract. The leads are utilized as an airing-ground for the patients.
The Guildhall or Sessions House of Middlesex is an ancient institution. Previous to 1752 the sessions were held at the Town Court House near Westminster Hall. In 1805 the Guildhall was erected from designs by S. P. Cockerell at the spot where the present Gothic fountain is. The present building is on the site of the Sanctuary. A little building of heavy stonework, about sixty feet high, once stood here; it had one door only, of solid oak, covered with iron plates, and this led into a sombre chapel. This was St. Peter's Sanctuary, dedicated to the Holy Innocents, and to it any hunted criminal had the right of entry. Apparently, his pursuers might besiege him without danger of sacrilege, but at any rate he could defy them in tolerable security within those massive walls. There do not seem to be many records of the occasions on which it was used; we do not hear of the quick step and panting breath of the fugitive as he neared that doorway, nor read of the sense of relief with which he shot the bolts into place before he crept up to the roof to peep over the low parapet and see if his enemies were hard upon his heels. Yet these things must have happened again and again. The most touching occasion recorded in history is when the Queen-mother Elizabeth sought refuge here with her younger son Richard and her daughters. It was not a new thing to her to have to seek protection thus. She had been here before, and her elder boy, destined for so short a reign and so cruel a death, had been born within the confines of the prison-like walls. On the second occasion, when the ferocious Richard, Duke of Gloucester, sought to obtain possession of his younger nephew, he respected the limits of sanctuary, but with his plausible tongue he persuaded the Archbishop who accompanied him to consent to his schemes, and he silenced, if he did not assuage, the mother's fears. So the little Richard was taken to die in the Tower with his brother, and small use had sanctuary been to him.
The work of the demolition of this massive keep was going on in 1775, but it does not seem to have proceeded regularly; people came and tore away fragments from the walls as they listed, and the gloomy building vanished piecemeal.