CHAPTER XXIII.
NOBLE MANSIONS IN PICCADILLY.
"Est via declivis."—Ovid.
Clarendon House—Lord Clarendon incurs the Displeasure of the Populace—Extracts from the Diaries of Evelyn and Pepys referring to Clarendon
House—The Name of "Dunkirk House" given to the Mansion—Its Demolition—Berkeley House: Descriptions of the Building—Devonshire House: Description of the Building—The Picture Galleries and Library—The Earl of Devonshire, and the Murder of Mr. Thynne of
Longleat—Anecdote of the First Duke of Devonshire—Devonshire House as a "Pouting Place of Princes"—The Mansion as a Rendezvous
of the Whig Party—Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire—Walpole's Compliment to the House and its Owner—Fashionable Entertainments
and Dramatic Performances at Devonshire House—Stratton Street—Mrs. Coutts, afterwards Duchess of St. Albans—Sir Francis
Burdett: his Seizure, and Committal to the Tower—Pulteney Hotel—Bath House—Anecdotes of Lord Orford and Lord Bath—Watier's
Club—The Dilettanti Society—Grafton House, now the Turf Club—Egremont House, now the Naval and Military Club—Hertford
House—Coventry House, now the St. James's Club—The Rothschilds—Viscountess Keith—Hope House, now the Junior Athenæum Club—John, Earl of Eldon—Gloucester House—The Duke of Queensberry, "Old Q."—Lord Byron's Residence—Lord Palmerston's House—The "Hercules Pillars"—The "Triumphal Chariot"—Historical Remarks.
Along the line of Piccadilly, when the district
was more or less open country, besides Burlington
House, stood some of the mansions of the nobility
of the seventeenth century.
Westward of Burlington House, facing the top
of St. James's Street, and on the site of what is
now Bond Street, Stafford Street, and Albemarle
Street, formerly stood Clarendon House. Pennant
places the mansion as far to the north as Grafton
Street; but the existing maps would seem to show
that Stafford Street would mark more precisely the
spot on which it stood. In a plan of London
etched by Hollar, in 1686, it is evident that the
centre of Clarendon House must have occupied
the whole of the site of Stafford Street. No. 74,
in Piccadilly, the publishing house of the late Mr.
J. C. Hotten—now Messrs. Chatto and Windus—is
said to be built of the old materials of the mansion.
It was a heavy, high-roofed house, standing a little
back from the street, with projecting wings; it had
square-headed windows, including a row of attic
windows which pierced the roof. A flight of stone
steps led up to the door, which was in the centre.
Lord Clarendon, when Lord Chancellor under
Charles II., having built his magnificent house
soon after the sale of Dunkirk to Louis XIV.,
about the year 1664, found that he had incurred
in the eyes of the people the full blame of the
transaction, and that his mansion was called by
the public not Clarendon but Dunkirk House, on
the supposition that it had been built with French
money. No sane person can doubt the fact of
Charles II. having received large sums from the
Court of Versailles for purposes hostile to the
interests of his people; but there is no proof whatever that Lord Clarendon was privy to such transactions, much less that he derived any personal
profit from them. It was, in his case, the old story
repeated—
"Delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi."
A view of Lord Clarendon's house as it appeared
during its brief decade of existence, may be found
in the first volume of Charles Knight's "London,"
and there is also an engraving of it in the Gentleman's Magazine for August, 1789.
From the Diaries of Evelyn and Pepys we learn
something of the varying fortunes of Clarendon
House during its brief existence. Under date 15th
October, 1664, Evelyn writes: "After dinner, my
Lord Chancellor and his lady carried me in their
coach to see their palace now building at the
upper end of St. James's Street, and to project the
garden." Pepys, in January, 1665–6, makes this
entry in his Diary: "To my Lord Chancellor's new
house which he is building, only to view it, hearing
so much from Mr. Evelyn of it; and indeed it is
the finest pile I ever did see in my life, and will be
a glorious house." Evelyn, about the same time,
wrote to Lord Cornbury, the Chancellor's eldest son:
"I have never seen a nobler pile . . . Here is
state, use, solidity, and beauty, most symmetrically
combined together. Nothing abroad pleases me
better, nothing at home approaches to it." Besides
the laying out of the gardens, Evelyn appears to
have contributed to the internal adornment of this
magnificent mansion, for in March, 1666–7, he sent
the Chancellor a list of "pictures that might be
added to the assembly of the learned and heroic
persons of England which your lordship has
already collected;" and on a subsequent occasion,
in recording the fact of his dining here with Lord
Cornbury, after the Chancellor's flight, Evelyn
remarks that it is "now bravely furnished, especially with the pictures of most of our ancient and
modern wits, poets, philosophers, famous and
learned Englishmen, which collection I much
commended, and gave a catalogue of more to be
added." Pennant says it was built with the stones
intended for the rebuilding of St. Paul's.
The whole place, according to Charles Knight,
"would seem to have resembled in stately dignity
the style of the 'History of the Great Rebellion.'"
"The plague, the Great Fire, and the disgraceful
war with Holland," says the above authority, "had
goaded the public mind into a temper of savage
mutiny; and the 'wits and misses,' to aid their
court intrigues against the Chancellor, had done
what in them lay to direct the storm against his
head. The marriage of the Chancellor's daughter
to the Duke of York and the barrenness of the
Queen were represented as the results of a plot;
the situation of Clarendon House, looking down
on St. James's, and the employment of stones collected with a view to repair St. Paul's, were tortured
into crimes." At length the storm of public wrath
fairly burst over Clarendon House, as the following
entry in Pepys's "Diary" will show. Under date
14th of June, 1667, he writes:—"Mr. Harter tells
me, at noon, that some rude people have been, as
he hears, at my Lord Chancellor's, where they have
cut down the trees before his house, and broke
his windows; and a gibbet either set up before
or painted upon his gate, and these words writ,
'Three sights to be seen—Dunkirk, Tangier, and
a barren Queen.'"
In a volume of rare London ballads and broadsides in the British Museum is one entitled, "A
Hue and Cry after the Earl of Clarendon," dated
in 1667. Our readers may gather how strong was
the popular feeling against him on account of the
sale of Dunkirk from the opening lines:—
"From Dunkirk House there lately ran away
A traitor whom you are desired to slay.
You by these marks and signs may th' traitor know,
He's troubled with the gout in feet below.
* * * * * * * * *
This hopeful blade being conscious of his crimes,
And smelling how the current of the times
Ran cross, forsakes his palace and the town
Like some presaging rat ere th' house fall down."
Evelyn mentions, in the following terms, a journey
made by him in June, 1683, along Piccadilly, doubtless on the way to his residence in Dover Street:—"I returned to town in a coach with the Earle of
Clarendon, when, passing by the glorious palace
his father had built but few years before, which
they were now demolishing, being sold to certain
undertakers [contractors], I turned my head the
contrary way till the coach was gone past it, lest
I might minister occasion of speaking of it, which
must needs have grieved him that in so short a
time their pomp was so sadly fallen."
"The sumptuous palace," writes Macaulay, "to
which the populace of London gave the name of
Dunkirk House, is among the many signs which
indicate the shortest road to boundless wealth in
the days of Charles II." The enormous gains then
made by prime ministers, partly by salaries, and
partly by the sale of posts and places, were the
real secret of the tenacity with which men clung
to office in those days.
Lord Clarendon seems to have been particularly
fond of this mansion, though it was so offensive to
the public. The day before his lordship's flight,
Evelyn "found him in his garden at his new-built
palace, sitting in his gowte wheel-chaire, and seeing
the gates setting up towards the north and the
fields. He looked and spake very disconsolately.
Next morning I heard he was gone." His lordship, even in his exile, after writing that "his weakness and vanity" in the outlay he made upon it,
"more contributed to that gust of envy that had so
violently shaken him than any misdemeanour that
he was thought to have been guilty of," confesses
that, when it was proposed to sell it, in order to
pay his debts and to make some provision for his
younger children, "he remained so infatuated with
the delight he had enjoyed, that, though he was
deprived of it, he hearkened very unwillingly to the
advice."
Under date of September, 1683, Evelyn thus
writes in his "Diary:"—"I went to survey the
sad demolition of Clarendon House, that costly
and only sumptuous palace of the late Lord
Chancellor Hyde, where I have often been so
cheerful with him, and sometimes so sad. . . .
The Chancellor gone and dying in exile," he
continues, "the earl, his successor, sold the building, which cost £50,000, to the young Duke of
Albemarle for £25,000 to pay debts, which how
contracted remains yet a mystery, his son being
no way a prodigal. . . . However it were, this
stately palace is decreed to ruin, to support the
prodigious waste the Duke of Albemarle had made
of his estate since the old man died. He sold it
to the highest bidder, and it fell to certain rich
bankers and mechanics, who gave for it and the
ground about £35,000; they design a new town,
as it were, and a most magnificent piazza. . . .
See the vicissitude of earthly things! I was
astonished at the demolition, nor less at the little
army of labourers and artificers levelling the
ground, laying foundations, and contriving great
buildings, at an expense of £200,000, if they
perfect their design."
In Smith's "Streets of London" it is stated that
"the earliest date now to be found upon the site
of Clarendon House is cut in stone and let into
the south wall of a public-house, the sign of 'The
Duke of Albemarle' in Dover Street, thus: 'This
is Stafford Street, 1686.'"
It is said by Isaac D'Israeli, in his "Curiosities
of Literature," that the two Corinthian pilasters
on either side of the gateway of the "Three
Kings," on the north side of Piccadilly, are the
only remains of the house built by the great Earl
of Clarendon, whose name, however, has been
perpetuated, at all events, down to the year 1870,
in the Clarendon Hotel hard by.
Berkeley House, a little further to the west,
according to Pepys, was built about the same time
as Clarendon House. It was so called because it
was built for Lord Berkeley, of Stratton, an able
officer in the Royal army under Charles I., and
whose name is still commemorated in the neighbourhood, by Berkeley Square and by Berkeley and
Stratton Streets. Slightly at the rear, as it would
seem, was a farm-house, from which Hay Hill,
possibly, derives its name.
"Before the date of Burlington House," writes
Pennant, "there was built here a fine mansion
belonging to the Berkeleys, Lord Berkeley (of
Stratton). It stood between the south end of
Berkeley Square and Piccadilly, and gave the name
to the square and an adjacent street (Berkeley
Street). The misery and disgrace which the
profligacy of one of the daughters brought on
the house, by an intrigue with her brother-in-law,
Lord Grey (afterwards engaged in the Monmouth
Rebellion), is too lastingly recorded in our State
Trials ever to be buried in oblivion."
Evelyn tells us that the mansion was "very well
built," and that it had "many noble rooms; but,"
he adds, "they are not very convenient, consisting
but of one corps de logis. They are all rooms of
state, without closets. The staircase is of cedar;
the furniture is princely; the kitchen and stables
are ill placed, and the corridor worse, having no
respect to the wings they join to. For the rest,
the fore-court is noble, so are the stables, and,
above all, the gardens, which are incomparable, by
reason of the inequality of the ground, and a pretty
piscina [a fish-pond]. The holly hedges on the
terrace I advised the planting of. The porticos
are in imitation of a house described by Palladio,
but it happens to be the worst in his book, though
my good friend, Mr. Hugh May, his lordship's
architect, affected it."
In the "New View of London," published in
1708, Berkeley House is described as "a spacious
building on the north side of Portugal Street, near
Piccadilly, with a pleasant, large court, now in the
occupation of the Duke of Devonshire. The
house," it is added, "is built of brick, adorned
with stone pilasters, and an entablature and pitched
pediment, all of the Corinthian order, under which
is a figure of Britannia carved in stone. At some
distance on the east side is the kitchen and
laundry; and on the west side stables and lodging-rooms, which adjoin to the mansion by brick
walls, and two circular galleries, each elevated on
columns of the Corinthian order, where are two
ambulatories."
Independently of the beauties of the mansion
and gardens, there is but little interest attaching to
Berkeley House. Its founder is represented by
Pepys as "a passionate and but weak man as to
policy; but, as a kinsman, brought in and promoted by my Lord St. Albans." It was destroyed
by fire on the 16th of October, 1733, soon after it
had passed into the hands of William, first Duke
of Devonshire.
"On the site of the house," continues Pennant,
"fronting Piccadilly, stands Devonshire House.
Long after the year 1700 it was the last house in
this street, at that time the portion (sic) of Piccadilly." He means, no doubt, that the Piccadilly
of that day formed only a portion of the present
long street.
The old house, according to Pennant, was frequented by Waller, Denham, and many others of
the wits and poets of the reign of Charles II.;
and he speaks of it as containing, in his own time,
an excellent library and a very fine collection of
medals. He also enumerates the pictures, which
are very much the same as now, adding, that the
collection of specimens by the great Italian
masters "is by far the finest private collection now
in England."
The author of the "New Critical Review of
the Public Buildings" speaks in very high terms of
the former Devonshire House, the ruins of which
were still standing in 1736, when he wrote. He
attributes its destruction to the carelessness of the
duke's servants, and their disregard of the family
motto, "Cavendo tutus." He describes it as
simple in plan, yet very elegant, and quite worthy
of the master hand of Inigo Jones, its only fault
being the great number of its chimneys, which he
calls "a heavy Gothic incumbrance to the whole."
He laments the loss of a fine statue of Britannia,
which, having escaped the flames, was accidentally
destroyed by a second act of carelessness.
The present Devonshire House is briefly dismissed by Mr. J. H. Jesse with the curt remark
that, "except during the brief period when the
beautiful Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, held
her court within its walls, and when Fox, Burke,
Windham, Fitzpatrick, and Sheridan did homage
at her feet, little interest attaches to the present
edifice." But we think that this remark is scarcely
just; for the court of Georgiana, the beautiful
duchess (of whom we have made mention in our
account of the Westminster election at Covent
Garden), was not a very "brief" one, nor does it
deserve to be put aside out of memory after so
summary a fashion.
The mansion, which for more than a century
has divided with Holland House the reputation of
being the head-quarters of the leaders of the great
Whig party, was built about the year 1737, by
William, third Duke of Devonshire, on the site of
part of the property of Lord Berkeley of Stratton.
The design of the house was by Kent; and it cost
upwards of £20,000. The house recedes a little
from the rest of the houses in this street. It has
little or nothing in its exterior appearance to
recommend it to particular notice, but its interior is
richly stored with some of the finest works of art
in any private collection.
DEVONSHIRE HOUSE, ABOUT 1800.
The entrance to the house was originally up a
double flight of stone steps, arranged as an external
staircase, in the front, and leading straight into the
reception-rooms on the first floor; but this arrangement was done away by the late duke, who
made the entrance on the ground level into a hall
of low elevation, beyond which he threw out on
the north or garden side a semi-circular apse,
containing a new staircase. The interior staircase
on the north side, of marble and alabaster, with rails
of solid crystal, was erected by the late duke. The
ornamentation of the great staircase, and of most
of the rooms in the house, is by Mr. Crace.
The picture-galleries in this house are scattered
through the long range of rooms which passes all
round it on the first floor. It would be impossible,
in this work, to give a complete list of the art
treasures that are to be found here, but we may
mention a few of the most important. In the
large north room hang "The Madonna and Child
and St. Elizabeth," by Rubens; "The Prince and
Princess of Orange," by Jacob Jordaens; and also
"a Portrait," unknown, by Titian. In the greenroom adjoining is "Jacob's Dream," by Salvator
Rosa, and "Samson and Delilah," by Tintoretto.
In the blue drawing-room is "Moses in the Bulrushes," by Murillo. A small room on the north
side is hung almost entirely with specimens of Van
Dyke, including a noble portrait of the great
Lord Strafford; in the same room is Lord Richard
Cavendish, by Sir Joshua Reynolds. In addition to
the portraits mentioned above, the list also comprises John Hampden's friend, Arthur Goodwin,
by Van Dyke, and his daughter Jane, wife of
Philip, Lord Wharton; a head of the virtuous and
accomplished Lord Falkland; Sir Thomas Browne
(author of the "Religio Medici"), his wife, and
daughters; a Jewish Rabbi, by Rembrandt; a
head of Titian, by himself; Philip II., by the
same; and the old Countess of Desmond. A list
of some of the finest pictures to be seen in this
mansion is printed in Dr. Waagen's work on "Art
and Artists in England."
SIR FRANCES BURDETT.
In the library here is kept John Philip Kemble's
celebrated collection of old English plays, probably
the finest in existence. It was made at the cost of
£2,000, and was purchased by the sixth duke, after
the collector's death. The library is very rich also
in other departments of early English literature.
The gardens in the rear of the house are mostly
laid down in turf as lawns, and contain some fine
elm-trees.
But to pass from the bricks and mortar of the
house to the personal history of its owners. We
have already mentioned the murder in Pall Mall
of Mr. Thynne, of Longleat. The then Earl of
Devonshire, as friend of Mr. Thynne, desired to
avenge his death, and challenged the dastardly
foreigner, who had plotted his assassination, to
meet him in a duel. The Count (says Pennant)
accepted the challenge, but afterwards his conscience (!) prevented him from meeting the Earl.
It is some comfort to know that on returning to his
own country the Count met with that fate which he
so richly deserved here.
A good story is told in the "Apology for the
Life of Colley Cibber" respecting the Earl of
Devonshire, who was raised to the dukedom in
reward for the leading part which he took in the
Revolution of 1688. Being one day in the Royal
Presence Chamber shortly before that event, and
being known to be no friend of the Court or the
Ministry, he was insulted by a person who trod
purposely on his foot. The insult was returned on
the spot by a blow, which brought the offender
to his senses. But as the act was committed within
the king's court, the striker was sentenced to a
fine of thirty thousand pounds. Having, however,
time allowed for paying it, he retired to Chatsworth,
whither King James sent a messenger to him with
offers to mitigate the fine if he would pay it promptly.
The earl, knowing the "lie of the land," replied, that
if his Majesty would allow him a little time longer,
he would rather choose to play "double or quits"
with him. The Revolution being near at hand, there
was no time for any further parley; and the king
speedily found himself in a position in which he
might inflict, but could not enforce, the fine.
It is stated of the above nobleman, by Dr. W.
King, in "Anecdotes of his Own Times," that he
received, after the accession of George I., more
than £200,000 in places and pensions, without
having done any service to his country or his
sovereign. Let us hope that this censure was not
well deserved, or else that the money has since
been recouped to the country by the services of
his descendants.
Like Leicester House, already mentioned, (fn. 1)
Devonshire House played for two years the part
of a "pouting place of princes." From 1692 to
the death of her sister Mary, Anne, Princess of
Denmark, and her husband lived here, not being
on the best of terms with their then Majesties.
For a century and a half this house has been
one of the special rendezvous of the Whig party.
"Three palaces in the year 1784," writes Sir N.
W. Wraxall, "the gates of which were constantly
thrown open to every supporter of the 'Coalition'
(against Pitt), formed rallying-points of union."
One of these was Burlington House, then tenanted
by the Duke of Portland; the second was Carlton
House, the residence of George, Prince of Wales;
the third was Devonshire House, which, "placed
on a commanding eminence opposite to the Green
Park, seemed to look down upon the Queen's
House, constructed by Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, in a situation much less favoured by nature."
At this time its leading spirit was Georgiana,
Duchess of Devonshire, a lady whose character
formed a perfect contrast to the indolence of her
husband, and who, in respect of her beauty, her
accomplishments, and the part which she played in
the world of politics, may be compared with Anne
Genevieve de Bourbon, Duchesse de Longueville,
in the French annals. She is described by Sir N.
W. Wraxall as "one of the most distinguished ladies
of high rank whom the last century produced.
Her personal charms," he adds, "constituted her
smallest pretension to universal admiration; nor
did her beauty consist, like that of the Gunnings,
in regularity of features and faultless formation of
limbs and shape; it lay rather in the graces of her
deportment, in her irresistible manners, and the
seduction of her society. Her hair was not without a tinge of red, and her face, though pleasing,
had it not been illumined by her mind, might
have been considered an ordinary countenance.
Descended, in the fourth degree, lineally from
Sarah Jennings, the wife of John Churchill, Duke
of Marlborough, she resembled the portraits of that
celebrated woman. In addition to the external
advantages which she received from nature and
fortune, she possessed an ardent temper, susceptible
of deep as well as strong impressions, a cultivated
understanding, illumined by a taste for poetry and
the fine arts, and much sensibility, not exempt,
perhaps, from vanity and coquetry."
In our account of Covent Garden, (fn. 2) and the
scenes witnessed there in former times in connection
with the elections for Westminster, we had occasion
to speak of the part taken by the Duchess of
Devonshire in securing the return of Mr. Fox in
1784. The following lines were written in consequence of her Grace's canvass on his behalf:—
"Arrayed in matchless beauty, Devon's fair
In Fox's favour takes a zealous part;
But oh! where'er the pilferer comes—beware!
She supplicates a vote, and steals a heart."
The lines quoted above were, no doubt, intended
as complimentary to the duchess; she had, however, a more elegant compliment paid to her one
day at Chatsworth by a gentleman who, after viewing the garden and the library, applied to her the
words of Cowley:—
"The fairest garden in her looks,
And in her mind the choicest books."
Towards the close of her life, however, the
beautiful duchess would often say "that of all the
compliments paid her, the drunken Irishman, who
asked to light his pipe by the fire of her beautiful
eyes, paid her the highest."
It was at Devonshire House, however, and not at
Carlton Palace, that the procession of the multitude
was brought to an end on the occasion of Fox's
election to which we refer; and so great was the
excitement that, according to Sir N. W. Wraxall,
"on the procession entering the great court in
front of the house, the Prince of Wales, who had
already saluted the successful candidate from the
garden wall on the side of Berkeley Street, appeared
within the balustrade before the mansion, accompanied by the most eminent members of the Whig
Coalition, both male and female, Fox dismissing
the assembled mob with a brief harangue."
The Duke of Devonshire, if not a man of very
great abilities, was a man of his word and the soul
of honour. Dr. Johnson said of him that he was
"a man of such 'dogged veracity,' that if he had
promised an acorn, and not one had grown in his
woods that year, he would have sent to Denmark
for one!" A strong testimony to a Whig nobleman's honour from so staunch a Tory as the learned
doctor.
William, the third duke, who is satirised by
Pope for his meanness, as "dirty D——," was a
staunch Whig, like the rest of his family. Horace
Walpole said of him, that "his outside was unpolished and his inside unpolishable."
It is said that one day, not long after the erection of the present mansion, the great Sir Robert
Walpole looked in to make a morning call on its
owner, and not finding him at home, left on his
table the following Latin epigram:—
"Ut dominus domus est; non extra fulta columnis
Marmoreis splendet: quod tenet, intus habet."
A higher or more graceful compliment could hardly
be paid to either the house or its owner, than to
say that they were both "all glorious within."
George IV., as Prince of Wales, was a constant
frequenter of the coteries and parties of Devonshire
House, which was at that time the resort, not only
of the Whig Opposition, but of all the wits and
beaux esprits of the time. Among the rest were
Sheridan, Grey, Whitbread, Lord Robert Spencer,
Fox, Hare, Fitz-Patrick, and George Selwyn, all
members of the society of bon ton in their day.
Mr. T. Raikes thus mentions Devonshire House
in his "Journal:"—"In these entertainments, which
many years ago engrossed all the wit and fashion
of London society for a long period, since quoted
as the era of refinement and pleasure, Lady Bessborough was a leading character. Even Lady
Grenville now, when she meets an ancient votary
of those days, illustrated by her mother, will say,
'He, too, remembers Devonshire House.'"
Here, in 1814, William, the sixth Duke of
Devonshire, gave several splendid entertainments
to the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia,
and the other military personages who accompanied the Allied Sovereigns to England. Here
the Prince of Orange was present at a grand ball
on the evening before he returned to the Continent
in the character of the discarded lover of the
Princess Charlotte. Shortly before, Lady Brownlow
tells us in her "Reminiscences," she had seen the
royal affianced pair at a party given by the Prince
Regent at Carlton House, when the Emperor of
Russia and the King of Prussia were present.
"At this party I well remember seeing the Princess
Charlotte and the Prince of Orange sitting together
and walking about arm-in-arm, looking perfectly
happy and lover-like. What were the intrigues
and influences that changed the princess's feelings
and caused her to break off the marriage is a
mystery, known, I believe, to few. There were
many rumours—many stories afloat, but none to
be relied on; the only thing positive being the
fact that the prince was dismissed."
The entertainments at Devonshire House have
not been confined to balls and such-like aristocratic
amusements, but have had a much wider range.
Here the celebrated dwarf, Count Boruwlaski, was
received by the Duke and the Duchess at one of
their entertainments and presented by their Graces
to the King, the Queen, and the Prince of Wales,
and the rest of the nobility, with whom he became
a "lion," and by whom he was fetêd and caressed
to an extent which would strike us as absurd and
incredible if we did not remember the more recent
visit of "Tom Thumb" to this metropolis and the
fuss that was made with him.
But Devonshire House has its literary as well as
its fashionable and political associations. As very
many of our readers will remember, it was more
than once, in the time of the late duke, the scene
of amateur private theatricals given on a scale of
magnificence which reminds us of the days when
English actors were "the king's" and the duke's
"servants." When, in 1850, Charles Dickens, in
concert with Sir E. Bulwer Lytton, was endeavouring to set afloat the "Guild of Literature and Art"
by the proceeds of a farce written by the former,
and a comedy by the latter, the Duke of Devonshire,
as Mr. Forster tells us in his "Life of Dickens,"
"offered the use of his house in Piccadilly for
their first representations, and in his princely way
discharged all the expenses attending them. A
movable theatre was built and set up in the great
drawing-room, and the library was turned into a
green-room. Not so Bad as we Seem was played
for the first time at Devonshire House on the 27th
of May, 1851, before the Queen and the Prince
Consort, and as large an audience as could be
found room for. Mr. Nightingale's Diary was the
name of the farce." The representation was a
great success. It was repeated several times over
at the Hanover Square Rooms, and continued at
intervals both in London and in the country during
that and the following year. Among the distinguished authors and artists who took part in the
performance at Devonshire House, besides Lord
Lytton and Dickens, were Douglas Jerrold, John
Leech, and Mr. Maclise.
The western side of Devonshire House is
bounded by a street without a thoroughfare, called
Stratton Street, after Lord Berkeley of Stratton, by
whom it was built in the year 1694. At No. 12 the
gallant Lord Lynedoch died, at the age of ninetyfour, in 1843. This street, and also Berkeley
Street, on the east side of Devonshire House, it
would seem, were laid out after a design of John
Evelyn, who thus writes under date June, 1684:—"I went to advise and give directions about building two streets in Berkeley Gardens, reserving the
house and as much of the garden as the breadth
of the house. In the meantime I could not but
deplore that sweet place (by far the most noble
gardens, courts, and accommodations, stately porticos, &c., anywhere about town) should be so
much straitened and turned into tenements. But
that magnificent pile and gardens contiguous to
it, built by the late Lord Chancellor Clarendon,
being all demolished and designed for piazzas and
buildings, was some excuse for Lady Berkeley's
resolution of letting out her gardens, also for so
excessive a price as was offered, advancing near
£1,000 per annum, in mere ground rents; to such
a mad intemperance was the age come of building
about a city by far too disproportionate already to
the nation."
In the corner house of Piccadilly and Stratton
Street, noticeable for its fine bow windows, overlooking the Green Park, lived for many years the
rich and benevolent Mrs. Coutts, widow of Thomas
Coutts, the banker, originally Miss Harriet Mellon,
the actress, and afterwards Duchess of St. Albans.
As an instance of her benevolence, it is recorded
that, in the year 1836, when a fund was set on foot
for the relief of the Spitalfields weavers, she not
only sent a subscription equal in amount to that
of royalty, but also gave the weavers an order for
a suite of damask curtains for her drawing-rooms,
at the price of a guinea a yard, an example which
was followed by other wealthy families.
Captain Gronow tells us, in his "Anecdotes and
Reminiscences," an amusing story connected with
this house. On the day after the coronation of
George IV., Mr. Hamlet, the jeweller, came to the
house, expressing a wish to see the wealthy banker.
It was during dinner; but owing, no doubt, to a
previous arrangement, he was at once admitted,
when he placed before Mr. Coutts a magnificent
diamond cross which had been worn the previous
day by the Duke of York. It at once attracted the
admiration of Mrs. Coutts, who loudly exclaimed,
"How happy I should be with such a splendid
specimen of jewellery!" "What is it worth?"
immediately exclaimed Mr. Coutts. "I could not
allow it to pass out of my possession for less than
£15,000," said the wary tradesman. "Bring me
a pen and ink," was the only answer made by the
doting husband, and he at once drew a cheque
for that amount upon the bank in the Strand; and
with much delight the worthy old gentleman placed
the jewel upon the fair bosom of the lady.
"Upon her breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore."
The following anecdote of the early life of this
lady, as related by herself, may be of interest:—"When I was a poor girl," she used to say,
"working very hard for my thirty shillings a week,
I went down to Liverpool during the holidays,
where I was always kindly received. I was to
perform in a new piece, something like those pretty
little affecting dramas they get up now at our
minor theatres, and in my character I represented
a poor, friendless orphan girl, reduced to the most
wretched poverty. A heartless tradesman prosecutes the sad heroine for a heavy debt, and
insists on putting her in prison unless some one
will be bail for her. The girl replies, 'Then I
have no hope—I have not a friend in the world.'
'What! will no one be bail for you, to save you
from prison?' asks the stern creditor. 'I have
told you I have not a friend on earth,' was my
reply. But just as I was uttering the words I saw
a sailor in the upper gallery springing over the
railing, letting himself down from one tier to
another, until he bounded clear over the orchestra
and footlights, and placed himself beside me in a
moment. 'Yes, you shall have one friend at least,
my poor young woman,' said he, with the greatest
expression in his honest sunburnt countenance; 'I
will go bail for you to any amount. And as for you,'
turning to the frightened actor, 'if you don't bear
a hand, and shift your moorings, you lubber, it will
be worse for you when I come athwart your bows.'
Every creature in the house rose; the uproar was
perfectly indescribable; peals of laughter, screams
of terror, cheers from his tawny messmates in the
gallery, preparatory scrapings of violins from the
orchestra; and amidst the universal din there
stood the unconscious cause of it, sheltering me,
'the poor, distressed young woman,' and breathing
defiance and destruction against my mimic persecutor. He was only persuaded to relinquish his
care of me by the manager pretending to arrive
and rescue me with a profusion of theatrical banknotes."
The Duchess of St. Albans, who died in 1837,
left her immense fortune, amounting, it is said,
to £1,800,000, to Miss Angela Burdett, who thereupon assumed the additional name of Coutts.
It was stated in the newspapers at the time, that
the weight of this enormous sum in gold, reckoning
sixty sovereigns to the pound, is 13 tons 7 cwt.
3 qrs. 12 lbs., and would require 107 men to carry
it, supposing that each of them carried 298 lbs.,
equivalent to the weight of a sack of flour. This
large sum may be partially guessed, by knowing
also that, counting at the rate of sixty sovereigns
a minute for eight hours a day, and six days, of
course, in the week, it would take ten weeks, two
days, and four hours to accomplish the task. In
sovereigns, by the most exact computation (each
measuring in diameter 17/20 of an inch, and placed
to touch each other), it would extend to the length
of 24 miles and 260 yards, or about the distance
between Merthyr and Cardiff; and in crown pieces,
to 113½ miles and 280 yards. It may be noted
that £1,800,000 was the exact sum also left by
old Jemmy Wood, the banker and millionaire of
Gloucester, who died in 1836. After inheriting
the property in question, Miss Burdett-Coutts distinguished herself by furthering works of charity
and benevolence, and in recognition of her largeheartedness she was, in the year 1871, raised to
the peerage as Baroness Burdett-Coutts.
Close by, during his demagogue days, lived Sir
Francis Burdett, the father of Lady Burdett-Coutts.
The old baronet enjoyed the distinction of being
the last political or state prisoner who was confined
in the Tower of London. On April 6, 1810, a
vote passed the House of Commons for his committal to the Tower, on account of a letter written
and published by him in Cobbett's Register of a
week or two previously, which was considered to
"libellous and scandalous, and a breach of privilege." Sir Francis resisted the Speaker's warrant
for his committal "upon principle," wishing, of
course, to make political capital out of the affair,
and to be regarded by the mob as a patriot.
Accordingly that part of Piccadilly which lay opposite his house was blocked up by a mob from Westminster and the southern suburbs, who kept on
shouting "Burdett for ever!" till the Guards were
called out and rode up to the spot. They were
received on their arrival with a volley of stones.
The Guards charged the mob, whence they were
nicknamed the "Piccadilly Butchers." The whole
of the West-end of London was in uproar and
confusion, and the windows of the chiefs of the
party who had procured the warrant for his arrest
were smashed. At length, on the third day, Sir
Francis Burdett, believing further resistance vain,
was taken prisoner in the king's name, and carried
off in a glass coach; but, in spite of this being
done with all possible privacy, the mob tried to
stop the carriage on Tower Hill, and a conflict
ensued between the soldiers and the people, in
which one rioter lost his life, and others were
wounded.
The riot arose out of the following circumstances,
the account of which we abridge from Hughson:—"On the 21st of February, a Mr. John Gale Jones,
a well-known orator at various debating societies in
the metropolis, was committed to Newgate by an
order of the House of Commons for a gross breach
of the privileges of that House. The breach complained of was contained in a bill issued from a
debating society, called the 'British Forum,' of
which Jones was president. The question in the
bill was, 'Which was a greater outrage on the
public feeling, Mr. Yorke's enforcement of the
standing order to exclude strangers from the House
of Commons, or Mr. Windham's recent attack on
the liberty of the press?'
"On the 12th of March, Sir Francis Burdett
moved in the House of Commons that John Gale
Jones should be discharged on the ground of the
illegality of the measure. This motion, however,
was lost; and on the 24th of March there appeared
in Cobbett's Political Register a letter inscribed, 'Sir
Francis Burdett to his constituents, denying the
power of the House of Commons to imprison the
people of England,' accompanied with the arguments by which he had endeavoured to convince
the gentlemen of the House of Commons that
their acts in the case of Mr. Jones were illegal.
On the 26th, the publication was brought before
the House of Commons by Mr. Lethbridge, who
desired the Speaker to ask Sir Francis Burdett
whether he acknowledged himself to be the author
of the letter, which Sir Francis did. The next
day Mr. Lethbridge resumed the subject, and laid
the number of Cobbett's Register before the House.
Sir Francis Burdett made a short but very able
defence; and after some further discussion the
House adjourned till next day, March the 28th, and
then to the 5th of April, when the resumed debate
was continued till half-past seven in the morning;
the House then voted that Sir Francis Burdett
should be committed to the Tower, the letter in
question being a libellous and scandalous paper,
reflecting upon the just rights and privileges of that
House. The sergeant-at-arms found great difficulty
in serving his warrant; and it was not until the
fourth day after he had received it from the Speaker,
that Sir Francis was conveyed to the Tower, and
only then by means of breaking into his house,
attended by a posse of constables and soldiers."
CAMBRIDGE HOUSE, IN 1854.
On the prorogation of Parliament, June 21st,
the captive was set free, but he did not care to
return home with the same demonstrations. The
populace had planned a triumphal procession from
the Tower to Piccadilly; but Sir Francis contrived
to give his friends the slip, crossed the river in a
boat, and drove off in a carriage, which was waiting
for him on the south side of London Bridge, for
his country residence at Wimbledon. The story of
his committal to the Tower narrated above stands
out in strong contrast to the staunch Conservatism
which marked his later years; nevertheless he
was
"Through good and ill report, through calm and storm,
For forty years the pilot of reform."
Mr. J. H. Jesse identifies the house No. 80, one
door east from the corner of Bolton Street, as that
from which Sir Francis was carried a state prisoner
to the Tower, and he quotes the following jeu
d'esprit on the arrest:—
"The lady she sat and she played on the lute,
And she sang, 'Will you come to my bower?'
The sergeant-at-arms had stood hitherto mute,
But now he advanced, like an impudent brute,
And said, 'Will you come to the Tower?'"
The house was subsequently occupied by the Duke
of St. Albans, who, however, migrated two or three
doors more to the east when he married the widow
of Thomas Coutts, of whom we have spoken above.
Late in life Sir Francis Burdett, who was known
among his constituents at Westminster as "Old
Glory," changed his colours, abandoned his Radical
allies, and died a most loyal and peaceable Conservative. About the year 1820 he had removed
to St. James's Place, where he died, and as we
have already seen in a previous chapter, (fn. 3) his death
was as pathetic as his parliamentary life had been
famous.
At the western corner of Bolton Street, facing
Piccadilly, stands Bath House, the residence of
Lord Ashburton. It contains a fine collection of
pictures, chiefly of the Dutch and Flemish schools,
formed by the builder of the mansion, Mr. Alexander
Baring, afterwards the first Lord Ashburton of the
present creation. Dr. Waagen gives a list of the
pictures to be seen here, in his work on "Art and
Artists in England." The house occupies the site
of the Pulteney Hotel, where many royal personages
were lodged during their visits to London; among
others the Emperor Alexander of Russia, during
the sojourn of the Allied Sovereigns in 1814. It
was so called because it had been formerly the residence of Pulteney, Earl of Bath, the great rival
and antagonist of Sir Robert Walpole. Pulteney,
who up to about 1741 had been, as a commoner,
the most violent and popular patriot of his day,
dwindled down, in 1742, into the Earl of Bath.
Sir Robert Walpole, when forced, about the same
time, to retire into the peerage, had laid this trap
for his antagonist, who readily fell into it. On
their first meeting, after what one of them called
their respective "falls up-stairs," Lord Orford said
to Lord Bath, with malicious good humour, "My
lord, you and I are now the most insignificant
fellows in England." A coronet, in fact, as well as
a mitre, has often proved an extinguisher, and this
fact well illustrates Pope's line with reference to
William Pulteney:—
"He foams a patriot to subside a peer."
OLD HYDE PARK CORNER, IN 1820. (From Mr. Crace's Collection.)
Walpole relates the following story concerning
the earl, which appears almost too amusing to be
true:—"Lord Bath once owed a tradesman eight
hundred pounds, and would never pay him. The
man determined to persecute him till he did; and
one morning followed him to Lord Winchilsea's,
and sent up word that he wanted to speak with
him. Lord Bath came down, and said, 'Fellow,
what do you want with me?' 'My money,' said
the man, as loud as ever he could bawl, before all
the servants. He bade him come next morning,
and then would not see him. The next Sunday
the man followed him to church, and got into the
next pew; he leaned over, and said, 'My money;
give me my money.' My lord went to the end of
the pew; the man too—'Give me my money.'
The sermon was on avarice, and the text, 'Cursed
are they that heap up riches.' The man groaned
out, 'O Lord!' and pointed to my Lord Bath; in
short, he persisted so much, and drew the eyes of
all the congregation, that my Lord Bath went out
and paid him directly." Lord Bath died not long
after the accession of George III.
At the opposite corner of Bolton Street stood,
from 1807 to 1819, Watier's Gambling Club. Concerning the origin of this club—or rather, gaming
house, for it was nothing more—the following
anecdote is told by Captain Gronow:—"Upon one
occasion, some gentlemen of both 'White's' and
'Brooks's' had the honour to dine with the Prince
Regent, and during the conversation the Prince
inquired what sort of dinners they got at their
clubs; upon which Sir Thomas Stepney, one of
the guests, observed that their dinners were always
the same, the eternal joints or beef-steaks, the
boiled fowl with oyster sauce, and an apple tart.
'That is what we have at our clubs, and very
monotonous fare it is.' The Prince, without further
remark, rang the bell for his cook, Watier, and in
the presence of those who dined at the royal
table, asked him whether he would take a house
and organise a dinner-club. Watier assented, and
named the Prince's page, Madison, as manager,
and Labourie, from the royal kitchen, as cook.
The club flourished only a few years, owing to the
night-play that was carried on there. The favourite
game played there was 'Macao.'" The Duke of
York patronised it, and was a member. Tom
Moore also tells us that he belonged to it. The
dinners were exquisite; the best Parisian cooks
could not beat Labourie.
Mr. John Timbs, in his account of this club,
remarks, with sly humour, "In the old days, when
gaming was in fashion, at Watier's Club both
princes and nobles lost or gained fortunes between
themselves;' and by all accounts "Macao" seems to
have been a far more effective instrument in the
losing of fortunes than either "Whist" or "Loo."
Mr. Raikes, in his "Journal," says that Watier's
Club, which had originally been established for
harmonic meetings, became, in the time of "Beau"
Brummell, the resort of nearly all the fine gentlemen
of the day. "The dinners," he adds, "were superlative, and high play at 'Macao' was generally introduced. It was this game, or rather losses which
arose out of it, that first led the 'Beau' into difficulties." Mr. Raikes further remarks, with reference
to this club, that its pace was "too quick to last,"
and that its records show that none of its members
at his death had reached the average age of man.
The club was closed in 1819, when the house was
taken by a set of "black-legs" who instituted a
common bank for gambling. This caused the ruin
of several fortunes, and it was suppressed in its
turn, or died a natural death.
At the end of the last or early in the present
century it was proposed that the Dilettanti Society,
already mentioned by us in our account of the
"Thatched House Tavern," should erect a permanent home for itself in Piccadilly, either near the
Pulteney Hotel, or else near the foot of the descent,
opposite the Ranger's Lodge; but the proposal was
never carried out.
At the south-west corner of Clarges Street is
the Turf Club. This club was originally established in Grafton Street. The building, formerly
known as Grafton House, is dull, heavy, and ugly,
probably the ugliest house in London. It was
built, says Charles Knight, by the father of Mr.
Michael Angelo Taylor, M.P., but others say by
the duke himself, who forgot to insert a door, and
who therefore had to buy the adjoining house in
Clarges Street, in order to make an entrance. The
house was taken by the Turf Club towards the
close of the year 1875.
Passing along Piccadilly, we soon arrive at No.
94, the Naval and Military Club. The building,
the site of which was once occupied by an inn,
was originally erected for the Earl of Egremont,
and called Egremont and afterwards Cholmondeley
House. The house has a noble appearance; it is
fronted with stone, and overlooks the Green Park.
It has a small court-yard in front of it. For
many years it was the residence of Adolphus, late
Duke of Cambridge, who died here in 1850, and
whose name it bore also when occupied by Lord
Palmerston, whose body was brought hither from
Brockett Hall, where he died, in 1865, the day
before it was deposited in Westminster Abbey.
Shortly after his lordship's death the house was
purchased by the Naval and Military Club, who
have greatly improved it.
Between White Horse and Engine Streets (No.
105) is a noble Italian mansion, called Hertford
House, after the late Marquis of Hertford, who
built it about the year 1850, from the designs of a
Polish or Russian architect, named Novosielski. It
was left by Lord Hertford to his natural son, Sir
Richard Wallace, who sold it to one of the family
of the Goldsmids. Though his lordship built the
house, he chose, with his usual eccentricity, never
to reside in it, because the parishioners of St.
James's refused to allow him to pave the street in
front of it after a fashion of his own. The house
contained a very fine collection of works of art,
purchased by Lord Hertford from the galleries of
Cardinal Fesch, the late King of Holland, and
Lord Ashburnham, and many others from the Saltmarshe collection.
The next house westward, at the opposite side
of Engine Street, is Coventry House, now the St.
James's Club. It was for a century the residence
of the Earls of Coventry, one of whom procured,
by his influence, the abolition of the "May Fair"
in the rear of his mansion. It occupies the
site of the old "Greyhound Inn," and, as Mr.
John Timbs informs us, it was bought by the Earl
of Coventry of Sir Hugh Hunlocke, in 1764, for
10,000 guineas.
The house adjoining the St. James's Club is the
residence of the Baroness Meyer de Rothschild,
widow of Baron Meyer Amschel de Rothschild, of
Mentmore, Buckinghamshire, who was many years
M.P. for Hythe, and who died in 1874. The
house of another member of this wealthy family is
situated further westward, next to Apsley House.
The Rothschilds, who began by sweeping out a
small shop in the Jews' quarter of the city of
Frankfort, over which hung suspended the sign of
the "Red Shield," whence they derive their name,
have become the metallic sovereigns of Europe.
From their different establishments in Paris, London, Vienna, Frankfort, St. Petersburg, and Naples
they have obtained a control over the European
exchanges which no party ever before could accomplish, and they now seem to hold the strings
of the public purse. No sovereign without their
assistance now could raise a loan. When the first
Baron Rothschild was at Vienna, having contracted
for the Austrian loan, the emperor sent for him to
express his satisfaction at the manner in which the
bargain had been concluded. The Israelite replied, "Je peut assurer votre Majesté que la maison
de Rothschild sera toujours enchantée de faire
tout ce qui pourra être agréable à la maison
d'Autriche."
Nathan Meyer de Rothschild, the father of the
two sons mentioned above, and himself the third
son of the founder of the wealth and influence of
this great commercial family, was a native of Frankfort; he was naturalised as a British subject by
royal letters patent in the reign of George III., and
subsequently was advanced to the dignity of a
Baron of the Austrian Empire. He died in 1836,
leaving a family of four sons, all Austrian barons.
Ten years later, in 1846, an English baronetcy was
conferred on his second son, Anthony, with remainder, failing his own male issue, to the sons of
his elder brother Lionel. Sir Anthony died in
January, 1876, when his English title accordingly
passed to his nephew, Mr. Nathan Meyer de
Rothschild, M.P. for Aylesbury.
A few doors westward, at No. 110, lived for
many years Hester Maria, Viscountess Keith. She
was the last remaining link between the present
generation and that brilliant literary circle which
congregated around Johnson at "the Club," and
which thronged the hospitable mansion of her
mother, Mrs. Thrale, at Streatham. During the
first eighteen years of her life she was surrounded
by Johnson, Reynolds, Garrick, Boswell, Beauclerk, and Bennet Langton. Johnson was her
tutor, and Baretti her language-master. From
her mother she learnt to value and to cultivate
intellectual pursuits, while from her excellent father
she derived those solid and sterling qualities which
belong more especially to the true English character.
On the death of Mr. Thrale, and the re-marriage of
her mother to Signore Piozzi—a marriage highly
disapproved by the Leviathan of literature—Miss
Thrale retired to her late father's house at Brighton,
where she applied her mind to several courses of
severe study, and acquired a knowledge of many
subjects rare in a woman at all times, and especially so in the less cultivated days of the last
century. Here she remained until the time arrived
for her to take possession of the fortune left her by
her father, when she settled herself in a handsome
mansion in London. In the meantime she had
the misfortune to lose her valued friend and preceptor, the illustrious Johnson, whose death-bed
she assiduously attended. A few days before his
death the venerable philosopher addressed Miss
Thrale in these words:—"My dear child, we part
for ever in this world; let us part as Christians
should: let us pray together." He then uttered a
prayer of fervent piety and deep affection, invoking
the blessing of Heaven on his pupil. In 1808,
Miss Thrale became the wife of George Keith
Elphinstone, Admiral Viscount Keith, one of the
most distinguished commanders by whom the naval
honour of Great Britain was so greatly exalted
during the war against the great Napoleon. Lady
Keith was left a widow in 1823. For several years
she held a distinguished position in the highest
circles of the fashionable world in London, and
was one of the original patronesses of "Almack's."
Having lived to the advanced age of ninety-five,
Lady Keith died in March, 1857.
The house standing at the south-east corner of
Down Street is the Junior Athenæum Club. This
splendid mansion was built for the late Mr. Henry
Thomas Hope, M.P., in 1849–50, from the designs
of M. Dusillon and Professor Donaldson. The
building has some remarkably handsome external
decorations in stone and metal, in the modern
French style. The decorations were executed
chiefly by French artists, and the iron railing is
particularly fine, both with regard to design and
workmanship. The mansion was for some years
known as Hope House, and during the time of
Mr. Hope's occupation it was noted as containing
one of the finest picture-galleries in London. The
pictures were chiefly of the Dutch and Flemish
masters, and of the very highest quality of art in
these schools; they were obtained by Mr. Hope's
ancestors (bankers at Amsterdam) principally from
the painters themselves. A list of the principal of
them is given in Dr. Waagen's "Art and Artists
in England." Mr. Hope had also here a fine
collection of ancient Greek sculpture. Mr. Hope,
who was the owner of Deepdene, in Surrey, and
was many years M.P. for Gloucester, &c., died in
1861, leaving an only daughter, who was married
in the same year to Alexander, sixth Duke of Newcastle. Shortly after Mr. Hope's death his house
was sold, and converted into a club.
The house at the corner of Hamilton Place,
facing Piccadilly, was for many years the town
residence of John, Earl of Eldon, the distinguished
Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, and
Lord Chancellor of England, during the early part
of the present century. He died in 1838.
Gloucester House, at the corner of Park Lane,
was formerly the residence of William Henry, the
last Duke of Gloucester, who purchased it on his
marriage with the Princess Mary, and who died
in 1834. In spite of being Chancellor of Cambridge, he was called "Silly Billy." Mr. Raikes
describes him as "a quiet, inoffensive character,
rather tenacious of the respect due to his rank, and
strongly attached to the ultra-Tory party." The
mansion was previously the residence of the Earl of
Elgin, at which time it was known as Elgin House.
Here, on their first arrival in this country, were
deposited the Elgin Marbles, previous to their
removal to Burlington House, whence they were
taken to the British Museum in 1816. It is in
allusion to this fact that Lord Byron, in his
"English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," calls Elgin
House a "stone shop," and
"General mart
For all the mutilated blocks of art."
The houses now numbered 138 and 139, between
Park Lane and Hamilton Place, were, at the beginning of the present century, one mansion, remarkable for its large bow window, and occupied by
the eccentric and licentious Duke of Queensberry,
better known to society by his nickname of "Old
Q." In his old age, when sated with pleasures of
the grossest kind, he would sit in sunny weather
in his balcony, with an umbrella or parasol over
his head, and amuse himself with watching the
female passers-by, ogling every pretty woman, and
sending out his minions to fetch them in, as a spider
will draw flies into his web. The duke had an
exterior flight of steps built to aid him in this sport.
These steps were removed long subsequently to
his death, in 1810.
Mr. T. Raikes, in his "Journal," under date of
1840, writes:—"The late Duke of Queensberry,
whom I remember in my early days, called 'Old
Q.,' was of the same school as the Marshal Duc de
Richelieu in France, and as great a profligate. He
lived at the bow-window house in Piccadilly, where
he was latterly always seen looking at the people who
passed by; a groom on horseback, known as Jack
Radford, always stood under the window to carry
about his messages to any one whom he remarked
in the street. He kept a physician in the house,
and, to ensure attention to his health, his terms
were that he should have so much per day while he
lived, but not a shilling at his death. When he
drove out he was always alone in a dark-green
vis-à-vis, with long-tailed black horses; and during
winter, with a muff, two servants behind in undress,
and his groom following the carriage, to execute his
commissions. He was a little, sharp-looking man,
very irritable, and swore like ten thousand troopers:
enormously rich and selfish."
The duke was one of the three individuals who
were said to be the fathers of Maria Fagniani, afterwards Marchioness of Hertford, to whom he left a
very large portion of his property; the title passing
to a distant relative, the Duke of Buccleuch.
Of the two houses above mentioned, that numbered 139 maintained its celebrity by being at one
time the residence of Lord Byron. Here he was
living when the separation between himself and
Lady Byron took place a year after their illstarred marriage; and here he wrote "Parisina"
and the "Siege of Corinth." It was also from
this house that Lady Byron left the poet, carrying with her his infant child, whom he commemorates so touchingly as "Ada, sole daughter of my
house and heart." "The moment that my wife
left me," he writes, "I was assailed by all the
falsehoods that malice could invent or slander
publish; . . . . there was no crime too dark
to be attributed to me by the moral (?) English,
to account for so common an occurrence as a
'separation in high life.' I was thought a devil,
because Lady Byron was allowed to be an angel!"
Poor man! bad as he may have been, he deserved
to have met with a creature endowed with some
small store of sympathy, and at least some little
feminine weakness, in the woman whom he made
his wife.
At No. 144, one of the mansions between
Hamilton Place and Apsley House, Lord Palmerston was living about the time of the Crimean
War, and shortly before his acceptance of the Premiership. His lordship removed thence to Cambridge House, of which we have already spoken as
being now the Naval and Military Club.
Where Apsley House now stands, if we may
accept the statement of Charles Knight, was the
tavern called the "Hercules' Pillars," "the same
at which the redoubted Squire Western, with his
clerical satellite, is represented as taking up his
abode on his arrival in London, and conveying the
fair Sophia." The sign of the "Hercules' Pillars"
was given to the tavern probably as marking, at
that time, the extreme "west-end" of London.
Its name is recorded by Wycherley, in his Plain
Dealer, and is said to have been a haunt of the
Marquis of Granby, and of other members of the
titled classes. The character of the house in Fielding's time may be gathered from the following
quotation from "Tom Jones," touching Squire
Western's arrival in London:—"The squire sat
down to regale himself over a bottle of wine, with
his parson and the landlord of the 'Hercules'
Pillars,' who, as the squire said, would make an
excellent third man, and would inform them of the
news of the town; for, to be sure, says he, he
knows a good deal, since the horses of many of
'the quality' stand at his door."
Mr. J. H. Jesse tells us that the tavern in question
stood between Apsley House and Hamilton Place,
and that, on account of its situation, it was much
frequented by gentlemen from the West of England.
Wherever may have been the exact spot on which
the house stood, it seems at best to have been a
comfortable but low inn on the outskirts of the
town, where gentlemen's horses and grooms were
put up, and farmers and graziers resorted.
In the reign of George II. all the ground to the
west of Devonshire House up to Hyde Park Corner
was covered by a row of small shops and yards of
the statuaries; nor were the latter of the best and
purest kind, if we may judge by the loud complaints against their design and execution uttered
by the author of "A New Critical Review of the
Public Buildings, &c.," at that date. In fact, the
tasteless atrocities in sculpture there perpetrated
could not well be exceeded now-a-days by the artists
of the "figure-yards" of the Euston Road. On
the site of the last remaining "figure-yard" in this
neighbourhood was built, in the early part of the
reign of George III., a house for the eccentric and
notorious Lord Barrymore, but it was burnt down
before it had been many years in his occupation.
Between the "Hercules' Pillars" and what now
is Hamilton Place, instead of the magnificent
houses of the Marquis of Northampton, and Barons
Lionel and Ferdinand de Rothschild and others,
long known collectively as Piccadilly Terrace, was
a row of low and mean tenements, one of which
bore conspicuously in the street before it the
grand sign of the "Triumphal Chariot." Mr. J. H.
Jesse suggests that "this was, in all probability, the
'pretty tavern' to which the unfortunate Richard
Savage was conducted by Sir Richard Steele on
the occasion of their being closeted together for a
whole day, busy in composing a hurried pamphlet
which they had to sell for two guineas before they
could pay for their dinner," as Johnson tells us in
his "Life of Savage." The tavern is stated to have
been a "watering-house" for hackney-coaches, &c.
Charles Knight says that "by the kerbstone in
front of it there was a bench for the porters, and a
board over it for depositing their loads;" and he
gives a view of just such another "watering-house"
still standing at Knightsbridge in 1841, answering
in every minute detail to the above, except in the
sign, for it is not the "Triumphal Chariot," nor a
"chariot" at all, but "The White Hart."
HAMILTON PLACE IN 1802. (From a Drawing in the Guildhall Library.)
The sign of the "Triumphal Chariot" was
probably an allusion to the soldiery from the
barracks, who were its chief supporters. Mr. J.
T. Smith, in his "Antiquarian Rambles in the
London Streets," tells us that, "in the middle of
the last century, this and other public-houses were
much resorted to by the red-coats on Sundays and
review-days, when long wooden seats were fixed in
the street before the doors for the accommodation
of as many barbers, all busily employed in powdering the hair of these sons of Mars!"
Near the "Hercules' Pillars" and "Triumphal
Chariot," there would appear to have been quite a
cluster of other small inns, "convenient" to the
wayfarer as he entered London from the western
counties. Mr. Larwood enumerates among these
the "Red and the Golden Lion," the "Swan," the
"Horse Shoe," the "Running Horse," the "Barley
Mow," the "White Horse," and the "Half Moon,"
of which the last has left the trace of its being in
the name of a street running out of Piccadilly.
Thoughtful observers will note the slight but
graceful bend of the roadway of Piccadilly, and
will see in it with us a proof that the road itself was
of ancient date. Modern streets are almost always
driven straight; but the earliest roads follow the
tracks of cart-wheels and pack-horses; and probably
it was by the pack-horses or market-carts of five
centuries ago that this road was first gradually
worn. The only proof of its existence in the days
of antiquity is to be found in the map of Ralph
Aggas, where it forms but a continuation of the
line marked out at the top of the Haymarket as
"the way to Reading," just as what now is Oxford
Street is marked "the way to Uxbridge." We
find, however, a corroboration of the map in the
narrative of the rebellion raised by Sir Thomas
Wyatt and his Kentish followers on the unpopular
marriage of Queen Mary with Philip of Spain,
when it would seem that, in addition to a lower
way running past the front of St. James's Palace
to Charing Cross, there was also a "highway on
the hill," along which some of the rebel forces
and ammunition were brought up. This event
is, indeed, the earliest matter of historical interest
connected with Piccadilly. We read that, unable
to effect the passage of London Bridge, Wyatt
marched to Kingston, where he crossed the Thames,
and so forced his way to Knightsbridge. In our
account of Charing Cross (fn. 4) we have already given
the narrative of Wyatt's advance on London, as
told by honest John Stow, and therefore we need
not repeat it here, further than to say that, in all
probability, it was in Piccadilly that he "planted
his ordenance," for the old chronicler tells us
that it was upon a hill beyond St. James's, "almost
over against the Park Corner, on the hill in the
highway, above the new bridge over against St.
James's."
THE ROYAL INSTITUTION.
How Wyatt passed on first to Charing Cross
and then to Ludgate, how he was there captured,
and how he was beheaded and afterwards quartered
on Tower Hill, are matters well known to nearly
every reader of English history. His head, as
Stow further informs us, was set up on the gallows
at Hay Hill, at that time almost if not quite in
sight of the spot where he had left his "ordenance." The "new bridge" spoken of in Stow's
narrative probably spanned the brook which ran
in this direction down from Tyburn, giving its
appellation to the Brook Fields, whence "Brook
Street" derives its name, as we shall see in a
future chapter.
It was near the western extremity of Piccadilly
that the citizens of London fortified themselves
against the threatened approach of Charles I. and
his army in 1642, when the citizens of the Westend, aided by the female population, and, indeed,
even ladies of high birth and blood, lent a helping
hand in the trenches, and in throwing up earthworks.
In this emergency, men, women, and even children,
assisted in hundreds and thousands, and speedily
a rampart of earth was raised, with batteries and
redoubts at intervals. The fort here was armed
with four bastions. The active part taken by the
women in this undertaking is described with much
graphic humour by Butler, in his "Hudibras." He
writes that they
"Marched rank and file, with drum and ensign,
T' entrench the city for defence in;
Raised ramparts with their own soft hands,
To put the enemy to stand;
From ladies down to oyster-wenches
Laboured like pioneers in trenches,
Fall'n to their pickaxes and tools,
And helped the men to dig like moles."
In spite of its proximity to the Court suburb, it
would appear that Piccadilly was not a very secure
thoroughfare, even during the reigns of the first
Hanoverian kings. For instance, it is on record,
that in 1726 the Earl of Harborough was stopped
here, whilst being carried in his sedan chair, during
broad daylight; we read that "one of the chairmen
pulled a pole out of the chair and knocked down
one of the villains, while the earl came out, drew
his sword, and put the others to flight, but not before
they had raised their wounded companion, whom
they took off with them." Indeed, even a quarter
of a century later, the neighbourhood of Piccadilly,
and, in fact, all the western and northern suburbs
of London, were infested with footpads and highwaymen; and, under cover of the darkness, favoured
by the ill-lighted and ill-protected state of the
streets, highway robberies continued to be committed with impunity, in the heart of London, up
to a much more recent period than is generally
supposed. Mr. Jesse tells us that about the year
1810 a near relative of his own, accompanied by
a friend, was forcibly stopped in a hackney-coach
in Piccadilly, opposite to St. James's Church, by
ruffians, who presented their pistols, and forced
them to give up their money and watches. He
adds, that in this case the driver, in all probability,
was in league with the highwaymen.
The modern history of Piccadilly may be soon
told. In process of time the thoroughfare has
undergone great alteration since buildings were
first erected on its northern side. Bath House,
of which we have spoken above, was the first
mansion of any pretension erected to the west of
Devonshire House; and down to about the year
1770, with the exception of the one just named,
there were no houses more than one or two
storeys high. Many years ago the pavement on
the north side of all the middle portion was raised,
and formed a terrace; and when the name of the
terrace ceased to be used in this part of the street,
it came to be applied to the larger mansions further
westward and lying between Down Street and
Apsley House. Now, however, it is restricted to
the row of houses situated to the west of Hamilton
Place.
About the end of the year 1825 the toll-gate at
Hyde Park Corner, which narrowed the thoroughfare, interrupted the traffic, and gave a confined
appearance to the street, was removed. Mr. Hone,
in his "Every Day Book," published in the year
1826, thus records the sale by auction of this tollgate:—"The sale by auction of the 'toll-houses'
on the north and south side of the road, with the
'weighing-machine' and lamp-posts at Hyde Park
Corner, was effected by Mr. Abbott, the estate
agent and appraiser, by order of the trustees of
the roads. They were sold for building materials;
the north toll-house was in five lots, the south in
five other lots; the gates, rails, posts, and inscription boards, were in five more lots; and the enginehouse was also in five lots." It is not stated what
amount was realised by the sale, but Hone gives
a graphic illustration representing the auctioneer
raising his hammer and calling out, "Going,
going, gone!" He adds, "The whole are entirely
cleared away, to the great relief of thousands of
persons resident in this neighbourhood," and then
he moralises as follows: "It is too much to expect
everything vexatious to disappear at once; this
is a good beginning, and, if there be truth in the
old saying, we may expect a good ending." At
the same sale were put up and knocked down the
weighing-machine and toll-house at "Jenny's Whim,"
of which we shall have more to say when we come
to Knightsbridge, and also the toll-house near the
"Original Bun-house" at Chelsea, with the lampposts on the road.
Thanks to the iron roads out of London, which
steam has opened of late years, Piccadilly is no
longer the great "coaching" thoroughfare which it
was in the days "when George III. was King;"
but still, "in the season," it is always lively and
well filled, and there is no street in London where
the miscellaneous character of London conveyances
and "carriage folk," from the outside passengers
on a lordly "drag," down to the city clerks on
the knifeboards of omnibuses, and even to the
donkey-driving costermongers, may be seen in
greater variety. All ranks are jostled together in
Piccadilly, if anywhere in this great metropolis.