William Dempsey was a wonder among wonders.
By 18, he had risen from a gang of London street rogues to be the personal plaything of the Marquess of Argyll. Maintained in splendour, celebrated at masquerades – with everything he could wish for.
Now all has come crashing down. He is put out in the rain without patronage, his West End apartment, or a place among the ton.
So on a stormy night, he arrives at a house in Southwark. Marathon Moll's in the Mint – the bawdyhouse he worked in during his ascent and where he earned the name Blue Billy.
But is Marathon Moll's a place from which to rise again? For there is one in the crowd, who catches his eye. Who takes his hand and promises something better.
Or does Moll's signify a return to his roots? For one day, a second and very different young man raps on the door. Takes his hand and asks him to return to his past.
To the cat language of vagabonds. The canting dialect of thieves.
To the schemes, and the dreams, of his youth.
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Guest post - Setting the scene... The Mint, Southwark
There's something about an underdog that really gets me fired up. I always root for them, I want them to succeed. In sports, in business. Whatever it is, I'm always, always drawn to an underdog.
Even… in the setting for a novel?
Well… yes.
In finding a setting for the story of Blue Billy, a former street boy who must rise after a great fall, it was important to find a setting which reflected his state of mind. Billy was raised on the rough streets of 18th century London, born to a den of thieves, after which he graduated to prostitution in a bawdyhouse before finding a wealthy Marquess to keep him. He then falls from grace – kicked out of his luxury apartment and obliged to return to the bawdyhouse. So, I needed a setting for this house to reflect that scrappiness Billy needs to get his life on track again.
Enter the Mint, in Southwark. The Mint not only fit my requirements, but it seemed almost criminal (much in the Mint was, by the way) to leave uncelebrated this diminutive yet notorious district of London south of St Saviour's parish west of the Borough High Street.
A short-lived mint authorized for use in the mid 1500's gave the area its name, but it was as a haven for London's debtors that the area came to be known. A special charter exempted the area from City control, notably those officials sent to incarcerate citizens for unpaid debts. As such, the Mint became known as a "Liberty" – a refuge for London's delinquents. Six days a week, the area was guarded by bill collectors, waiting to seize anyone who ventured outside the Liberty of the Mint – every day except Sunday when debts could not be collected. Sunday, then, became the day when residents might leave the district without fear of being arrested. The male residents of the Mint were often seen venturing out on Sundays dressed in their best (in the hope of being taken for carefree) and so came to be known as "Sunday gentlemen".
In 1722 a law was passed withdrawing that special exemption from City laws. By this time, however, the criminal element was firmly established in the area. And so, by 1771, the year in which my novel is set, though the Mint was no longer a haven for debtors, it was too well-established as a home for lowlifes to be regarded as much else. This was exactly Billy's state of mind – knowing he is of low origins but determined to improve himself, just like the Mint!
And oh, how the Mint tried to improve itself! New homes were built, businesses were opened. Yet that same criminal element continued to linger and call the place home. You had only to look across the High Street to see not one, but two prisons – King's Bench and Marshalsea, both known as dreadful dens of misery. And then there was simply the Mint's long and well-established reputation, perhaps the biggest obstacle of all to surmount.
The Mint's greatest attempt to rehabilitate itself came in 1760 with the opening of a pleasure garden called Finch's Grotto Garden. London, of course, already had two wildly popular pleasure gardens, Vauxhall and Ranelagh. But a go-getter by the name of Thomas Finch decided it was time to open one in the Mint – a place which could host ridottos, orchestral diversions and celebrations of all varieties. His garden was smaller and more intimate than its rivals and an all-out campaign was launched to lure the ton to his new garden. By all accounts it had everything that a pleasure garden should have. It contained some lofty evergreens and fine shrubs, as well a 'medicinal' spring over which a grotto was constructed. Some intimate walks were there, as well as a ballroom called the Octagon Room.
Yet by all accounts the garden, the grounds, and the Octagon room were only infrequently used. A few balls were given, a few concerts, and an occasional display of fireworks. Competition from London's larger and more established gardens was simply too much to allow for one more, especially when it happened to be in area few would otherwise venture into.
And so, Finch's Grotto Garden, which was bounded on the south by the aptly named Dirty Lane, a border which in fact placed the garden within the Rules of the King's Bench prison, was demolished in 1773.
This, then, was the tragically underdog history of the Mint by the 1770s. As a setting for my story, it had won my heart completely. This scruffy and colourful district would contain the bawdyhouse in which my hero would search for a new path and a better future for himself.
I couldn't give the Mint the happy ending it seemed so much to deserve. But maybe, just maybe, I might be able to give one to Billy.
About David
David Lawrence is the author of two queer historical novels – 'Hugh: A Hero without a Novel' and 'Blue Billy's Rogue Lexicon'. As a writer, he loves taking a deep dive into the politics, social norms, and events of 18th century England while presenting humorous and unique coming-of-age tales.
A native of the American Southwest, David has spent much of his life in Great Britain, France, and Finland. He now lives in the American Northwest – Helena, Montana – with his Finnish partner.
By day he loves hiking under the Big Sky of his beautiful adopted state.
By night, however, he prefers wandering the byways of 18th century London…
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