The Inauguration of the Teatro di San Carlo

In 1736 theatre-loving King Charles VII of Naples and Sicily took a long look at the Teatro San Bartolomeo in Naples and was not impressed by what he saw. By then in its 116th year and somewhat worse for wear, the building was sorely in need of a refresh or, even better, a replacement.

The king decided that this dilapidated building simply wouldn't do as the flagship arts venue of the city and summoned architect Giovanni Antonio Medrano to design and build a new theatre. The brief was simple, the theatre must stand in the heart of Naples, directly adjoining the Royal Palace, and be a beacon for the arts. 

Medrano worked alongside artistic director Angelo Carasale to design the new structure, the two men envisioning a building of unparalelled theatricality with a capacity of over 3000, in all senses fit for a king. The project was to cost 75,000 ducats and building began in early 1737. In a testament to the vision, skill and efficiency of the builders, the Teatro di San Carlo was completed in just seven months and the inaugural performance took place on 4th November 1737, with a production of Achille in Sciro, by Domenico Sarro and featuring the first female soprano, Anna Peruzzi, in a lead role.

The show was a magnificent spectacle and the most illustrious names in Italy were in attendance, leaving the King a most pleased monarch. The theatre hosted some of the legendary names in opera before its interior was destroyed by fire in 1816. Redesigned and rebuilt within the year, Teatro di San Carlo stands to this day, its halls ringing to the sound of the greatest operatic compositions the world has known.

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The Last Hanging at Tyburn

To end the week of Halloween, we return to the Tyburn gallows on the anniversary of the last public hanging at this iconic place, that of a highwayman named John Austin. Now, I take as my inspiration the notes of my dear of grandmother Gilflurt and unfortunately, a rather ribald night with the Duke of Marlborough resulted in a gin spillage that has smudged the date somewhat and she is too cloudy to recall at present. Historians are not in agreement on the date of this final hanging with both 3rd and 7th November 1783 given as likely candidates. Since the trial at the Old Bailey definitely took place on 29th October, I am going to plump for 3rd so let us continue!

On 23rd October 1783, John Spicer was on the road for London, having left Grays in Essex with the intention of finding a new situation in life. Unfamiliar with the city, Spicer had been glad to make the friendship of two men who offered to direct him to reputable lodgings and travelled with him for a couple of days. However, rather than conduct him safely to a rooming house, the men took their victim to open fields near Bethnal Green and threatened him with a cutlass, leaving him in no doubt that he would die if he did not go along with their demands to hand over his valuables. Despite being outnumbered and unarmed, Spicer fought furiously but Austin and his accomplice were able to wrestle him to the ground, tying his hands tightly and taking all of his possessions.

The attack was interrupted by James Strong, a local man who had been working in his employer's garden. His efforts to apprehend the assailants were unsuccessful but he took the badly wounded Spicer to the infirmary, where his injuries were tended. It appeared then that Austin and his accomplice had made good their escape but the greedy felon returned to the scene of his crime in daylight to see if he had left anything behind. Strong apprehended Austin, who complained that he was an innocent man; he explained that he had been forced to participate in the robbery by a stranger, who threatened him with death if he did not comply. Whilst the men waited for the watch to arrive, Austin was locked in a stable and, when he was released, the takings from the robbery were found concealed in his makeshift prison.

Industry and Idleness, Plate 11; The Idle 'Prentice Executed at Tyburn by William Hogarth 

After hearing the testimonies and defence, the judge, Mr Eyre, passed sentence of death on Austin and just days later he was taken by cart to the Tyburn gallows amid a crowd of spectators. The condemned man apparently passed the journey in a dignified fashion though panic overtook him as the noose was fixed and he told the crowd, "Good people, I request your prayers for the salvation of my departing soul; let my example teach you to shun the bad ways I have followed; keep good company, and mind the word of God." This short speech completed, the cap was put over his head and as he began to speak again the cart started forward and the noose tightened; rather than face a quick death, Austin was slowly strangled for ten minutes.

Austin was the last man to die at Tyburn and from that day hangings moved to Newgate. There are many more stories to tell of this dark place but for now, I hope you pass a restful Sunday and take care on the road to London, no matter how friendly your travelling companions might seem.

An Abrasive Regent: Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange (Hanover, Germany, 2nd November 1709 – The Hague, The Netherlands, 12th January 1759) 

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange, 1736

Not so long ago we met the well-meaning if not always successful William IV, Prince of Orange and today I'm pleased to introduce his wife, Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange. A lady of illustrious lineage, Anne was the daughter of the future King George II and granddaughter to the man who would become King George I. A woman of strong will and no small amount of political talent, she endured personal trials on the road to power.

When Anne was born to George and Caroline of Ansbach at Herrenhausen Palace, her grandfather was not yet King of Great Britain and she was titled Duchess Anne of Brunswick-Lunenburg, named in honour of her grandfather's second cousin Queen Anne. As was usual for a young lady of her station, Anne enjoyed a comprehensive education and excelled in music under the illustrious tuition of our old friend, Handel. These lessons with the composer left Anne with a lifelong appreciation for music and she was particularly fond of the work of her tutor, who would later provide the music to accompany her own words at her wedding to William.

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange by Johann Valentin Tischbein, 1753

The young Duchess spent much of her childhood in England and at the age of eleven Anne was laid low by smallpox; her suffering caused Caroline of Ansbach to have her other daughters inoculated but by then, it was too late for the young Duchess. Permanently scarred by the disease, Anne was not cowed by her misfortune and returned to her studies as she recovered, her parents already on the lookout for a suitable match. She was named Princess Royal in 1727 by her father, becoming the second holder of the title.

Anne was one of the many potential candidates on the shortlist of possible brides for King Louis XV of France but nothing came of this particular negotiation. Instead, she was married to William IV, Prince of Orange on 25th March 1734 in the Chapel Royal at St James's Palace. The couple formed an immediate fondness for one another and once their honeymoon at Kew was over, the newlyweds sailed for Holland. As we will see, their life was not always picture-perfect but they eventually had five children, two of whom would survive into adulthood.

Anne, Princess Royal and Princess of Orange by Bernard Accama, 1736

Although happy in the company of her husband, when William left his bride at home and travelled to the Rhineland on military business, Anne found herself utterly at sea in her new home and became dreadfully homesick for the familiar surroundings she had left behind. Absolutely convinced that she was pregnant, she travelled back to England and remained there until her father and husband decided that enough was enough, and told her to return to Holland. In fact, there was no pregnancy and Anne returned to her husband and tried once again to settle into married life, finally establishing herself at court and creating a home of her own. A force to be reckoned with, Anne was politically astute and opinionated, two traits that would certainly come to the fore in later years.

In 1751 the 40 year old William died, leaving his widow as regent for their three year old son, William V. She served in this role until her death, proving herself as a leader even as her somewhat abrasive personality made her less than popular. Not all of her policies were successful though and she was not able to secure Dutch support for England in the Seven Years' War, finding increasing antagonism between her adopted homeland and that of her childhood difficult to reconcile.

The formidable regent finally succumbed to dropsy at the age of 49; more regents would follow until William V finally reached majority in 1766, beginning an eventful reign and a story for another time!

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

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The Literary Scourge of Landowners: Garlieb Merkel

Garlieb Helwig Merkel (Lēdurga,Latvia, 1st November 1769 – Riga, Latvia, 9th May 1850)

After our somewhat gruesome diversion into throat slashing, highway robbery and the Tyburn tree for Halloween yesterday, we are back in more staid company today with a Livonian gentleman of letters, Garlieb Merkel.

Merkel was born the son of a rural priest and though he did not share the privileged early life of some of our salon guests, he was a studious child, possessed of a fierce intelligence. Encouraged by his family he toiled hard at his studies and by the age of 17 was in regular employment as a private tutor to upper-class children. His work naturally took him to Riga where the young man found himself surrounded by intellectuals, excited by the opportunities and ideas he found in the in the capital. Throwing himself into this new world, Merkel became part of influential intellectual circles, who were impressed by his eloquence and passion.

When Merkel was 27 he published Die Letten (Die Letten vorzüglich in Liefland am Ende des philosophischen Jahrhunderts, Ein Beytrag zur Völker- und Menschenkunde), a searing indictment of the challenges and abuses the peasantry faced at the hands of their Baltic German landlords and landowners. The book made a plea to the Imperial Russian government to address these injustices and set right the many cruel wrongs that the poor were experiencing. Merkel's work found a concerned audience and was republished in several languages.

Perhaps inevitably, the backlash from the landowners was swift and furious and Merkel fled Livonia for Europe, eventually taking up residence in Berlin. He remained in Germany and worked as a writer, journalist and editor for a decade before returning to his homeland. Here he continued to write, publishing several volumes of memoirs and political works; although Merkel would live to a ripe old age, Die Letten was not actually translated into Latvian until the end of the 20th century, long after those furious landowners had shuffled off to pastures new.