Fifty years ago, [The Beulah Spa Gardens], with their pump -room, rosary, archery-ground, maze, camera obscura, &c., were one of the most fashionable resorts near London, and, on the occasion of the visit of Marshal Soult, they attracted such a large assemblage of the upper classes that the carriages extended from the neighbouring church of All Saints to Crown Lane. Associated with the gay scenes which the gardens presented […] was a handsome young man known as the Spanish Minstrel, who sang love-lyrics on the lawn in the intervals of the band programme, accompanying himself on the guitar, and, with his dark complexion, ample cloak, turban hat, and the national instrument of the sunny south, looked his assumed part to the life. “Who is he?” was a question which every visitor to the gardens asked, and which no one could answer. 

[…]

When, however, the handsome Charles Cochrane appeared in “society” as the husband of a wealthy widow, there were many persons who recognized in him the Spanish Minstrel who had turned the heads of so many younger ladies by his good looks while singing and strumming at the Beulah Spa Gardens.