by Deryn Lake
Historical Note
John Rawlings, Apothecary, was a real person. He was born circa 1731, though his actual parentage is somewhat shrouded in mystery. He was made Free of the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries on 13th March, 1755, giving his address as 2, Nassau Street, Soho. This links him with H.D. Rawlings Ltd. who were based at the same address over a hundred years later. Rawlings were spruce and ginger beer manufacturers and in later years made soda and tonic waters. Their ancient soda syphons are now collectors items and can only be found in antique shops. I am very proud to own one which was presented to me by my French fan club, based at the College La Millaire at Thionville.
John Fielding, the Blind Beak, received his knighthood in 1761. It is not on record where this ceremony actually took place and his name does not appear on the St. James’s Palace list. However, this doesn’t necessarily rule out the fact that the solemnities could have taken place there so the matter remains unproved. For the sake of my story I decided to place him at that most exciting of venues. If the facts are different, then I apologise to Sir John, who, I feel certain, wouldn’t mind at all.
Miss Elizabeth Chudleigh was the eighteenth century’s most celebrated bigamist. Brought up by her mother in very poor circumstances in Devonshire, Elizabeth’s face was most definitely her fortune and her first serious love affair took place when she was fifteen years old. She almost married the Duke of Hamilton but an interfering aunt intercepted their correspondence and the relationship broke up. She married the Hon. Augustus Hervey privately on 4th August, 1744, the service conducted by the rector of Lainston, Mr. Amis. Both of them returned to their jobs, he as a lieutenant in the navy, she as Maid-of-Honour to Augusta, Princess of Wales and the marriage was kept secret. However, when Augustus returned to England in October, 1746, the inevitable happened and next year Elizabeth was secretly delivered of a son. He was put out to foster in Chelsea and died shortly after. By this time, Elizabeth and Augustus had split up and she preferred to conduct her life as Miss Chudleigh until, in 1759, her husband drew near the title of Earl of Bristol owing to the failing health of his brother. She now thought it sensible to establish the fact that she was married to the heir and, quite literally, forced Mr. Amis, lying on his deathbed, to enter her marriage in the register book. She shortly afterwards became the mistress of Evelyn Pierrepoint, Duke of Kingston, and her affair with him became a matter of notoriety when on 4th June, 1760, she gave a splendid ball in honour of the birthday of the Prince of Wales, soon to be George III. Meanwhile her husband, anxious to be rid of her, announced that he was suing for divorce but she refused to admit that a marriage had ever taken place. She counter- sued, denying everything, but was very disturbed when she had to take an oath declaring that she was a spinster. However, typically, she did. The court found for her and on the 8th March, 1769, she bigamously married the Duke of Kingston. She was presented as Duchess to the King and Queen, who wore her favours, as did the officers of state. However, her real husband, very bitter by now, renewed his matrimonial case in 1773. Fortunately for the Duke he died in that same year. In the terms of his will, the poor old fellow left her all his property for life and his entire fortune on the condition that she remained a widow, the reason for this restriction being her weakness for any adventurer who flattered her.
Elizabeth went abroad but finding some difficulty in obtaining money, threatened her English banker in Rome with a pistol. He paid up. When she returned to this country, trouble lay in wait. The late Duke’s nephew laid a charge of bigamy against her and she was found guilty. Her real husband, who was by now Earl of Bristol, was also gunning for her, still wanting divorce. Elizabeth fled and never returned to England again. She died in Paris in 1788 at the age of sixty-eight.
If readers think that the character of Jack Morocco is far fetched, then let them turn their attention to Julius Soubise, the beloved black boy of the Duchess of Queensberry, upon whom the character is based. Soubise’s exploits were amazing and, I quote ‘(he) became one of the most conspicuous fops of the town. He frequented the Opera, and the other theatres; sported a fine horse and groom in Hyde Park; became a member of many fashionable clubs, and made a figure.’ He also had a wonderful life style, including a beautiful mistress, an apartment full of hothouse flowers and extravagant dinner parties complete with claret and champagne. Eventually he overstepped the mark and was hustled abroad by the Duchess for secuding a maid in sordid circumstances. He died in a riding accident in India as dramatically as he had lived.
The study of the black population in eighteenth century England is absolutely fascinating and I would recommend anyone interested to read Black England by Gretchen Gerzina. From abject slaves to pampered pets, this book tells it all and is essential reading for serious students. My thanks to John Oram for giving me a copy and drawing my attention to the role of negroes in our historic society.
The Pandemonium Club actually existed, its membership consisting of bright sparks and wits of the day. However, its initiation ceremony has not been passed down to us and I have therefore borrowed the rites of the Humbug Club, which was formed later in the eighteenth century, too far removed in time for John Rawlings to have been a member. The President of the Humbugs signed himself Humbugallo Rex, and Screech, the owl, countersigned all documents as Secretary. What really happened at Pandemonium ceremonies, I leave to the imagination of the reader!