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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

Bought with the income
of the
ALFRED E. PERKINS FUND

AN
ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE

STREETS OF LONDON,

WITH

ANECDOTES OF THEIR MORE CELEBRATED RESIDENTS.

BY JOHN THOMAS SMITH,
LATE KEEPER OF THE PRINTS AND DRAWINGS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM;
AUTHOR OF " NOLLEKENS AND HIS TIMES,"
AND "A BOOK FOR A RAINY DAY,"

EDITED BY
CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
PuBIfel)er {n (©rlrfnars ta f^er mn^tSts.
1846.

CONTENTS

THE FIRST VOLUME.

FAGE
From Hyde Park Corner to Charing Cross ... 4
From Charing Cross to Westminster Abbey, Westminster
Hall, and the Houses of Parliament . .137
From Charing Cross to Waterloo Bridge . . . 223
From Waterloo Bridge to Temple Bar . . . 338

AN

ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE

IN

THE STREETS OF LONDON.

The great Poet has said that the contemplative man
can find "sermons in stones and good in everything."
The averment has never been disputed ; all the •svorkl
admits its truth, and it is only brought forward here
that we may claim for London stones more capabilities of
instruction than stones in general afford. To the con
templative man who walks over the wide-extending
leagues of pavement of this busy city, and who remem
bers something of the history of each street as he passes
it, what a vast amount of amusement and instruction is
spread out ! As he loiters along, to all the world appa
rently an idle and unconcerned spectator, how his fancy
may be charmed, his sensibility awakened, his emulation
excited, and his patriotism warmed by the recollection,
that here in this alley lived a poet ; here in this laire a
great man died in want and sorrow ; here in this street
VOL. I. B

2 AN ANTIQUAEIAN EAMBLE
another great man surmounted difficulties, that to weaker
minds would have been insurmountable ; and here in this
square lived the friend of his country and of his kind,
whose name is a household word of love and admiration.
To the man who strolls through London in this spirit,
the great city becomes, indeed, a world of itself, and he
may travel over it with more delight and instruction
than many gather in the whole of Europe, over which
they are whirled in their post-chaises, remembering
nothing but that they have gone over a certain number
of leagues, and seen a certain number of capital cities,
and returning home again with the same quantity of
ideas with which they set out.
The inhabitant of this great city, who looks a little
deeper than the surface of things, need never lack
amusement in his idle hours. He has only to extend
his map before him, and consider the various tribes and
nations that inhabit his little world, and then take a
journey among them, and study the difference of their
manners, appearance, mode of life, and even language,
and he will be surprised at the immense variety. There
is scarcely more difference betwixt Englishmen and
Frenchmen than there is betwixt the inhabitants of St.
James's and Whitechapel, St. Giles's and Spitalfields,
Islington and Gravel Lane : and then the history of
those various regions — their separate laws, religions,
characteristics, occupations, amusements : — why, it is
like studying the geography of a continent !
What a fearful romance is a great city ! Could we
get at the secrets of each house, whether of the past or
the present, what pictures of human strife, misery.

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. ,3
cruelty, self-immolation, madness, and despair, we might
unfold ! How many, too, of a brighter aspect we might
discover ; — pictures of ardent struggle for the right, of
patient suffering, of virtue strong amid temptation, of
unwearying benevolence, and of Christian loving-kind
ness ! But without endeavouring to penetrate so far, we
purpose to make a few journeys of discovery through the
principal thoroughfares or arteries of this " mighty heart
of England ;" noting, as we pass, the various memorabiHa
of each spot, conjuring up reminiscences of the great and
the good, the wise and the witty of former ages ;
remarking the physical changes each spot has undergone,
and comparing the elegance and civilization of the present
with those of the past ; gaining amusement now, and
now wisdom, and sometimes both combined ; and even
when gaining neither, travelling over our allotted ground
in a kindly and uncaptious spirit.
It will be hard, indeed, if country stones can elicit
sermons, that town bricks and mortar cannot be as
fruitful as they in the lessons which they teach, or the
delight which they afford. Let each melancholy Jacques
moralize among trees; — we, for the present more« sociable,
will moralize among houses.
Boswell, speaking of the entertainment the streets
afforded him, remarks, "I have often amused myself
with thinking how different a place London is to dif
ferent people. They whose narrow minds are con
tracted to the consideration of some one particular
pursuit, view it only through that medium. A politician
thinks of it only as the seat of government in its different
departments ; a grazier as a vast market for cattle ; a
B 2

4 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
mercantile man as a place where a prodigious deal of
business is done upon 'Change ; a dramatic enthusiast as
the grand scene of theatrical entertainments ; a man of
pleasure as an assemblage of taverns, &c. ; but the intel
lectual man is struck with it as comprehending the whole
of human life in aU its variety, the contemplation of
which is inexhaustible." To all the classes thus enume
rated by the Laird of Auchinleck, *and to many others,
we shall address ourselves, or rather, to the last only,
which comprises in its wide extent man of every grade
and profession ; not only politician, grazier, merchant,
dramatist, and man of pleasure, but the poet, the man of
letters, the painter, the musician, the divine, the soldier,
the sailor, and the lawyer. We shall be less exclusive
than Boswell, and look for the intellectual without refer
ence to profession. Our first journey shall be from
HYDE PARK CORNER TO CHARING CROSS.
But first, although we confess to a predilection for
the antiquities of the metropolis, we must cast a moment's
glance at Apsley House, the mansion of the Duke of
AVellington. This mansion, which since its enlargement has been
extolled at least as highly as it deserves, was in the first
instance built from a design furnished by the Messrs.
Adams for Lord Chancellor Apsley. When, in 1828, it
came into possession of "The Duke," the taste of Sir
Geoffrey Wyattville was called into requisition. From
his designs, and under his superintendence, Apsley House
was wholly remodelled and greatly enlarged; and the
result is a substantial building, which cannot offend the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 5
most fastidious taste, but which will not extort any great
amount of admiration. It has a rusticated basement :
and the principal front offers to the eye a pediment sup
ported by four Corinthian columns. The interior is very
splendid. The picture gallery and the ball-room, which
extends the whole depth of the building, are extremely
beautiful. Apsley House is interesting, as being the residence of
the greatest captain and one of the greatest men of this
or of any former age. Time, which must make it vener
able, will confer more and more lustre upon it; and a
century hence, what we now look upon with curiosity
will be regarded with reverence.
The architectural taste of Mr. Decimus Burton is
shown conspicuously in the entrance to Hyde Park,
which was completed in 1828. The frontage of this
beautiful building is 107 feet in length. It consists of a
screen of fluted Ionic columns, with three arches for
carriages, and two entrances for foot passengers. Pour
handsome columns sustain the entablature of the central
gateway. Above this is a frieze, which runs round the
four sides of the building. This frieze bears testimony
to the genius and skill of Mr. Archibald Henning, a
worthy son of the highly ingenious and ill-requited John
Henning. It represents a naval and military triumphal
procession. The side gateways are ornamented by two
insulated Ionic columns. Messrs. Bramah manufactured
the gates, which are exquisite specimens of bronzed iron
work. The other, commonly called the triumphal arch, is of
the Corinthian order, and was built about the same time

6 AN ANTIQUARIAN EAMBLE
as the one we have just described. Four columns, two
on each side of the arch, sustain the portico. Six
Corinthian pilasters adorn the arch itself. The front
towards the Green Park presents exactly the same
appearance as the other. The vaulted roof in the
centre is wrought into elegantly sculptured compart
ments. There is a chamber within for the porter ; and
a small stair-case leads to the summit. G. R. and the
royal arms are disposed alternately along the entabla
ture. The gates of this arch, equally beautiful with
those of its opposite neighbour, were likewise manufac
tured by Messrs. Bramah.
Some years ago, as our readers are probably aware, it
was decided to commemorate the achievements of the
Duke of Wellington by a testimonial. The execution of
this work was confided to the competent genius of Mr.
Wyatt. That gentleman entered upon his grateful task,
and completed a design which is said to be worthy of the
artist ; and which, undoubtedly, is the largest equestrian
statue in the world. The work finished, it became a
grave question where it was to be placed. A committee
of noblemen and gentlemen of reputed taste was accord
ingly formed, to take into consideration at what spot, or
on what eminence this mighty man and horse might most
worthily be stationed. The committee (having obtained
Her Majesty's sanction and approval) at length decided
that the top of the triumphal arch was the place of all
others to show to admiration the beauty of Mr. Wyatt's
magnificent statue. But now the critic began to carp.
There was no precedent for an equestrian statue on an
arch. Besides, the arch itself was too small for the

IN THE STREETS OE LONDON. 7
statue. One noble lord pleasantly observed that, when
the horse was placed on his destined summit, it would
appear from his windows like that wondrous horse
"whereon the Tartar king did ride;" an aerial steed
that had walked or galloped, or was about to do so,
over the houses. But his Lordship forgot that, if the
arch had been a pedestal, the self-same appearance would
be presented to him.
It has at length been arranged that the horse and his
rider shall be suffered to ascend the arch " on trial." If
an enlightened public, after due examination, do not
approve their appearance, they are to come down again ;
when some other, and if possible, better situation will be
chosen for them. We venture to predict, that once up,
they will not come down ; and we shall not be surprised
if, after all, it be acknowledged that the much-derided
committee have chosen well and wisely.
This district, which is now covered by many noble
mansions, including those of Lord Willoughby d'Eresby,
the late Duchess Countess of Sutherland, the Earl of
Cork, and others; and including Hamilton Place, and
the other streets towards Bath-House, was, a century ago,
one of the most deplorable in the neighbourhood of
London, and swarmed with low public-houses, bearing
the following signs, viz : " The Pillars of Hercules," " The
Golden Lion," "The Triumphant Car," "The Horse
Shoe," " The Red Lion," " The Running Horse," " The
Swan," "The Barley-Mow," "The White Horse," and
" The Half Moon." The two last gave names' to streets.
These public-houses, about the middle of the last
century, were much visited on Sundays; but those

8 AN ANTIQUARIAN EAMBLE
contiguous to Hyde Park were chiefly resorted to by
soldiers, particularly on review-days, when there were
long wooden seats fixed in the street before the houses
for the accommodation of six or seven barbers, who were
employed on field-days in powdering those youths who
were not adroit enough to dress each other. Yet it
was not unusual for twenty or thirty of the elder soldiers
to bestride a form in the open air, where each combed,
soaped, powdered, and tied the hair of his comrade, and
afterwards underwent the same operation himself.
It was to one of these low public-houses that Sir
Richard Steele and the unfortunate poet. Savage, retired
to order a dinner without the money to pay for it, and
where the former remained some hours in pawn, as it
were. Johnson, in his affecting Life of Savage, relates,
" That one day he was desired by Sir Richard, with an
air of the utmost importance, to come very early to his
house the next morning. Savage went accordingly, found
the chariot at the door, and Sir Richard waiting for him,
and ready to go out. What was intended, and whither
they were to go. Savage could not conjecture, and was
not willing to inquire. The coachman was ordered to
drive on, and they hurried with the utmost expedition to
Hyde Park Corner, where they stopped at a petty tavern,
and retired to a private room. Sir Richard then informed
him that he intended to publish a pamphlet, and that he
had desired him to come thiiher that he might write for
him. They soon sat down to their work. Sir Richard
dictated, and Savage wrote till the dinner that was
ordered was put upon the table. Savage was surprised
at th6 meanness of the entertainment, and after some hesi-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 9
tation ventured to ask for some wine, which Sir Richard,
not without reluctance, ordered to be brought. They then
finished their dinner and proceeded in their pamphlet,
which they concluded in the afternoon. Mr. Savage then
imagined his task was over, and expected that Sir Richard
would call for the reckoning and return home ; but he
was deceived in his expectations, for Sir Richard told
him that he was without money, and that the pamphlet
must be sold before the dinner could be paid for.
Savage was, therefore, obliged to go and offer their
new production for sale for two guineas, which, with
some diflSculty, he obtained. Sir Richard then returned
home, having retired that day only to avoid his creditors,
and composed the pamphlet only to discharge his
reckoning." So far Johnson; but he does not inform us of the
subject of the pamphlet, or the name of the bookseller
who published it. Let no needy author imitate the
example. He who writes a pamphlet now, will not
gain two pence by it, much less two guineas. Leading
articles in newspapers supply the place of pamphlets too
well; and he who publishes a pamphlet now-a-days, may
think himself fortunate if he have not to pay twenty or
thirty pounds, instead of receiving anything, for indulg
ing so far his vanity.
Before proceeding further from Hyde Park Corner, we
should not omit to mention that in the year 1642, when
London was fortified against the Royal Army, a large fort
with four bastions was erected close to the spot where the
noble arch now stands. Men, women, and children alike
took part, such was the enthusiasm of the Roundheads

10 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
against the CavaUers in erecting these fortresses all round
both London and Southwark. As Butler sings in his
Hudibras, " From ladies down to oyster-wenches.
Laboured like pioneers in trenches.
Fell to their pickaxes and tools.
And helped the men to dig like moles."
The now aristocratic thoroughfare, known as Park
Lane, was called formerly Tyburn Lane. The large
house at the south-west corner, now inhabited by Her
Royal Highness the Duchess of Gloucester, was formerly
in the occupation of the Earl of Elgin. Here were first
exhibited the famous marbles which will ever bear his
Lordship's name. Byron, in his " English Bards and
Scotch Reviewers," written at a time when he felt in
clined to sneer and carp at everything, calls this house
" a stone shop," and " General mart
For all the mutilated blocks of art."
Three years afterwards, in 1811, Byron's indignation
against Lord Elgin for the spoliation of Greece still en
during, he wrote his bitter " Curse of Minerva," in which
the Goddess, addressing Britain, exclaims,
" 'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth,
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.
Survey this vacant, violated fane,
Recount the relics torn that yet remain;
These Cecrops placed, this Pericles adorn'd;
That Adrian rear'd when drooping science mourn'd.
What more I owe, let gratitude attest,
Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest."
In the year 1816, Parliament voted the sum of
£35,000 for the purchase of the marbles, and they were

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 11
removed from their former place of exhibition to the
British Museum, where they remain, fine studies, acces
sible to English artists; but enduring mementos of a
very unworthy cupidity.
The house No. 133, Piccadilly, was built by the late
Duke of Queensberry for the celebrated Kitty Frederick.
The first house on the right hand was, it is said, designed
by George III., to whom are also attributed the designs
for the Trinity House on Tower Hill, and the Office of
.Ordnance, which formerly stood in Margaret Street, at
the east end of St. Margaret's Church, but which was de
molished during the alterations completed in that part of
Westminster about the year 1822.
The ground behind the opposite houses, between the
back of Lord Coventry's, No. 106, and the south side
wall of the Earl of Chesterfield's garden, in Ourzon
Street, was, in 1722, an irregular space; " May-fair Row"
and " Hay-hiU Row" being, at that time, the only regular
buildings. There was, within memory, on the western
portion, partly on the site of Hertford Street, an old
wooden public-house, one of the original signs of the
" Dog and Duck," behind which, towards the north, was
a sheet of clear water, nearly two hundred feet square,
surrounded by a gravel walk of about ten feet in width,
boarded up knee high, and shaded all round by willows.
This pond was notorious for that cruel sport called
"Duck Hunting," so long the delight of the English
butchers. The ground upon which Hertford Street,
Curzon Street, Shepherd's Market, &c., stand, was an
nually for many years covered with booths during the
period of May Fair. The following copies of a few of

12 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the original show-bills may afford some entertainment
the lovers of the Drama. WILLIAM REX.
MAY-FAIR.
M I L L E R'S,
OR THE Loyal Association Booth,
AT the upper END OP
Brook-field Market,
NEAR Hy"de Park Corner.
During the time of MAY-FAIR will be presented-
AN excellent droll, CALLED
KING WILLIAM'S HAPPY DELIVERANCE
AND Glorious Triumph over his Enemies,
OR THE Consultation of the
POPE, DEVIL, FRENCH KING, and the GRAND TURK,
WITH THE WHOLE FoRM OF THE SlEGE OF NaMUR,
AND THE HUMOURS OF A Renegade FRENCH MAN
AND BRANDY JEAN,
with the conceits of scaramouch and harlequin,
together with the best Singing and Dancing that was
EVER SEEN IN A FaIR, ALSO A DIALOGUE SONG.
VIVAT REX.

HUSBAND'S BOOTH,
at the upper end of Brookfield Market
NEAR Hyde Park Corner.
DURING the Time of the Fair will be presented
AN Excellent Droll, call'd The Fairy Queen, or
LOVE FOR LOVE,
AND THE Humours of the Hungry Clown,
TOGETHER WITH THAT EXCELLENT ART OP
VAULTING ON THE MANAGED HORSE,
Performed by THOMAS SIMPSON, the famous
VAULTING MASTER OP ENGLAND,
with Songs and Dances, Scenes, Flyings and Masheens,
the like never seen in the Fair before.
VIVAT REX.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 13
ANNE REGINA,
At Mr. Finley's and Mrs. Barnes's Booth,
standing on the same ground as it did last year,
during the time of May Fair,
are to be seen
THE FAMOUS ROPE DANCERS OF EUROPE.
VIVAT REGINA.

At John Sleep's Musick Booth, prom
(TURNMILL STREET),
in Brook-field Market, at the sign of
THE STAR MUSICK-BOOTH,
during the Sixteen days op May Fair,
all Gentlefolks and others will be entertained
WITH variety of ALL SORTS OF
MUSICK, SINGING, DANCING,
AND OTHER PLEASANT PASTIMES.
VIVAT REGINA.

THE DROLL
INTERMINGLED WITH A MOST
DELIGHTFUL MERRY
COMEDY
AFTER THE MANNER OF AN
OPERA,
WITH EXTRAORDINARY VARIETIES OF
SINGING AND DANCING,
by
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF SOUTHAMPTON'S
Servants. VIVAT REGINA.
It appears from other May Fair bills of the same
period, that Sorias as Scaramouch ; Baxter as Har
lequin; and Evans as an Equestrian, were for their
respective talents the favourite performers of their
time.

14 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
The following extract is from No. .597 of " The Post
man" for April 6th, 1699 : —
" These are to give notice, that on the first day of
May next will begin the Fair at the east end of Hide
Park, near Bartlet House, and continue for fifteen days
after. The two first days of which will be for the
sale of Leather and live Cattle ; and care is and will be
taken to make the ways leading to it, as well as the
ground on which it is kept, much more convenient than
formerly for persons of quality that are pleased to resort
thither." May-Fair was granted by King James II., in the
fourth year of his reign, to Sir John Coell and his heirs
for ever, in trust for Henry Lord Dover* and his heirs
for ever. It was held in Brook-field, commenced on the
1st of May, and lasted fifteen days, but was finally put
down in 1708.
In 1703, one Cork, a butcher, was executed at
Tyburn for killing a peace-officer in May Pair.
Shepherd's Market, still in use, was named after the
ground landlord who built and resided in that long white
mansion on the north side of Curzon Street, for many
years inhabited by Lady Fane, and afterwards by Lady
Reade, who died in it. The surrounding ground, now
so completely covered by the houses of the noble and
the wealthy, was in 1750 so little esteemed, that Mr.
Shepherd offered his freehold mansion, just alluded to,
and gardens for the small sum of 500/. However, after
the death of Lady Reade, this house and gardens were
* The second son of Thomas Jermyn, and nephew to the first
Earl of St. Albans.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 15
purchased by Lord Carhampton for about 500/.; and
his Lordship, after making considerable improvements,
sold it to the present Lord Wharncliffe, then Mr. Stuart
Wortley, the Member for the county of York, for the sum
of 12,000/.
Much about the middle of the last century, when
marriage ceremonies were performed at a minute's notice,
a person of the name of Keith, who had a chapel in the
Fleet Prison, also officiated on the ground opposite to
Lord Wharncliffe's house, where Curzon Street Chapel
now stands ; and this spot, at the time of May Fair, was
much frequented for that purpose ; but this disgraceful
custom was only practised by profligate and ruined cha
racters, and was entirely abolished by the Marriage Act
in 1754.
The house on the left in Piccadilly was built by
Novosichki for the late Earl of Barrymore, but was
unfinished at his death, and remained so for many years,
until it was taken as an hotel. It has been rendered
memorable ever since the royal visitors, the Emperor of
Russia and the late Queen of Wirtemburg, then Duchess
of Oldenburg, resided in it during their stay in London.
It was then kept by Escudier, and is now styled, " The
Pulteney and Russian Imperial Hotel."
On the site of the houses east of the Pulteney Hotel,
including that now No. 102, the residence of the late
Earl of Mexborough,''^ stood the original leaden figure
yard, founded by John Van Nost, a Dutch sculptor who
* At Lord Mexborough's, in 1800, was exhibited Masquener's
picture of Bonaparte reviewing his troops in the Place de Carousel.
This, being before the peace of Amiens, was the first accurate like
ness of that extraordinary man which had been exhibited in Lon
don.

16 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
came to England with King William III. His effects
were sold March 1, 1711, after his death, and the pre
mises were advertised as standing near " The Queen s
Mead-house" in Hyde Park Road.
It appears from a plan taken by John Mackay, senior
and. junior, mathematicians of St. James's Westminster,
of the parish of St. George's Hanover Square, hanging
in the vestry-room, that on March, 1725, the time it
was drawn, the reservoir in the Green Park opposite to
the houses described above had two rows of trees closely
planted all round it ; a few of these now remain at either
end and on the north side. This plan also displays ice
houses as then standing in the Green Park.
In Mortimer's Universal Directory, published in 1763,
mention is made of a John Van Nost as following the
profession of a statuary in St. Martin's Lane, opposite to
May's Buildings, probably a descendant of the original
vendor of the leaden figures. Van Nost's business was
taken in 1739 by Mr. John Chore, who served his time
to his brother. Sir Henry Ohere, the statuary who exe
cuted several monuments in Westminster Abbey. This
despicable manufactory must still be within memory, as
the attention of nine persons in ton was arrested by
these garden ornaments. The figures were cast in lead as
large as life, and frequently painted with an intention to
resemble nature. They consisted of Punch, Harlequin,
Columbine, and other pantomimical characters; mowers
whetting their scythes; hay-makers resting on their
rakes; game-keepers in the act of shooting, and Roman
soldiers with /re/ocfe; but, above all, that of an African
kneeling with a sun-dial upon his head found the most
extensive sale.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 17
For this sort of decoration there were three other
manufactories in Piccadilly, viz. : Dickenson's, which
stood on the site of the Duke of Gloucester's house, be
fore mentioned ; Manning's, at the west corner of White
Horse Street, the site of which is occupied by Mrs.
Dumerg's, No. 96; and Carpenter's, that stood where
Egremont House was afterwards erected. Egremont
House was the residence of the late Marquis of Chol-
mondeley. All the above four figure yards were in high
vogue about the year 1 740. They certainly had casts
from some of the finest works of art, viz. : the Apollo
Belvidere, the Venus de Medicis, &c. ; but these leaden
productions, although they found numerous admirers and
purchasers, were never countenanced by men of true
taste ; for it is well known, that when applications were
made to the Earl of Burlington for his sanction, he
always spoke of them with sovereign contempt, observing
that the uplifted arms of leaden figures, in consequence
of the pliability and weight of the material, would in
course of time appear little better than crooked billets.
There has not been a leaden figure manufactory in
London since the year 1 78 7, when Mr. Chere died. Not
that the public taste improved with their disappearance.
One absurdity only gave place to another. As late as
the year 1826 or 1827, painted cats and parrots, and
plaster casts of the most inferior description were
hawked about the town, and met with an extensive sale.
Within the last few years, however, public taste has
improved considerably. All these have disappeared, and
busts of poets, painters, musicians, and illustrious men,
very beautifully executed, are alone seen on the boards
VOL. I. c

18 AN ANTIQUARIAN EAMBLE
of the Italian dealers, with copies of some of the finest
models of the Antique.
Half Moon Street was built in 1730, as appears by
that date on the south-west corner house. Its name, as
already observed, was taken from the Half Moon public-
house which stood at the corner. Clarges Street, origi
nally called "Clarges Street, in Hay-hiU Row," was
built by Sir Walter Clarges. The family had a house
nearly opposite St. James's Church, which, in 1708, was
occupied by the Venetian Ambassador.
Few persons, from the appearance of the Piccadilly
front, could have been aware of the extensive premises
of Bath House, standing, u.ntil the year 1821, at the
south-west corner of Bolton Row. It contained upwards
of fifty excellent rooms, besides numerous servants'
offices and capacious cellars. The ceiling of the library
was richly carved with foliage, and most splendidly
gilt ; its chimney-piece could not have cost less than
between 6002. and 700/.; it was of the finest Carrara
marble, and was profusely decorated with fruit and
flowers. The foliated pannels of the staircase were
adorned with busts of Homer, Cicero, Seneca, &c. At
the end of the garden, which extended nearly into Cur
zon Street, there was a large stone basin of water, in
the centre of which, upon a lofty pedestal, was placed a
copy of the Venus de Medicis, as large as the original.
The late Sir William Pulteney was a solitary inhabit
ant of this immense house for many years, at whose
death it was let to the Duke of Portland for eight
years; This mansion was taken down in 1821, and a most

IN THE STEEETS OP LONDON. 19
substantial house erected upon its site for tlie present
Lord Ashburton, then Mr. Baring.
Among the advertisements of sales by auction in the
original edition of the "Spectator," in folio, published
in 1711, the mansion of Streater, Jun. is advertised as
Us country house, being near Bolton Row, in Piccadilly ;
his town residence was in Gerrard Street, Soho. The
next house is of political notoriety. No. 80; it is now
the residence of Lady Guildford, and was inhabited by
the late Sir Francis Burdett in 1810, at the time the
Baronet was committed to the Tower. It was here that
he was taken into custody by the Serjeant-at-Arms,
after a resistance of four days.
Stratton Street was so named in compliment to the
Stratton line of the Berkeleys, on whose estate it was
buUt. The large house at the corner was for many years
the residence of the well-known Mrs. Coutts, the widow
of the rich banker, and the wife afterwards of the Duke
of St. Albans. Evelyn, in his " Memoirs," states that on
September 25, 1672, ie visited Lord John Berkeley in
his stately new house, which it was reported had cost
him near 30,000/. The staircase was of cedar.
Evelyn speaks of the gardens as incomparable, and
states that he advised the planting of the holly-hedges
on the terrace, and that Mr. Hugh May was his Lord
ship's architect.
In " The Postman," No. 94, in the year 1695, a
silver cistern is advertised valued at 750/., the pro
perty of the Prince and Princess of Denmark ; it was
stolen out of Berkeley House, and was shortly afterwards
discovered at Twickenham, in the possession of a distiller
C 2

20 AN ANTIQUAEIAN EAMBLE
there, who was tried, cast, and condemned. It would
appear from this, that Queen Anne and her spouse
resided in Berkeley House.
In " The Post Boy" for March 30, 1697, appears the
following notice : — " To-morrow His Majesty is to dine
with His Grace the Duke of Devonshire at Berkeley
House." His Majesty did dine there, as may be seen
from the papers of the following day.
After a fire, which burnt the house to the ground, the
present mansion was erected from a design by Kent, and
is now inhabited by His Grace the Duke of Devonshire.
Here are given those magnificent balls and fetes which
excite the admiration of half the fashionable world that
are invited to them, and the envy of the other half that
are excluded. liis Grace is the leader of the fashion,
and enjoys in the age of Victoria as great a renown for
dancing as Sir Christopher Hatton did in the age of
Elizabeth. Diverging a little from the straight path, we traverse a
narrow dirty street, by the wall of His Grace's garden,
which leads us on into Berkeley Square, which, some fifty
or a hundred years hence, will be visited by multitudes,
eager to see the house once inhabited by so remarkable
a man as Lord Brougham ; it is a large house on the west
side, marked No. 48.
Proceeding a little onwards in the same district, and
returning to the east end of the square, we ascend Hay
IIill, where the severe skirmish was fought in the year
1554, between a party of the troops of Queen Mary and
the insurgents under Sir Thomas Wyatt, and where the
latter were defeated with considerable loss. Sir Thomas,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 21
who was the son of the elegant poet of tho same name,
the friend of the Earl of Surrey, was afterwards com
mitted to the Tower, and, being found guilty of high
treason, he was executed ; his head was aflixed to a pole
on the summit of Hay Hill, his legs upon London Bridge,
and his arms in another part of the capital. Three of
his companions were also hanged on Ilay Hill. The
place was then, and indeed for a hundred and fifty years
afterwards, an open field, a considerable distance from
any house.
The following notices may be acceptable to the
London historians, as they settle the periods of the
commencement and destruction of that princely edifice
which stood on the site of the south end of Albemarle
Street, Clarendon House : —
Evelyn, in his "Memoirs," vol. I, page 380, states that
on the 28th of November, 1666, he wenj; to see Clarendon
House, which was nearly completed.
Bishop Burnet, speaking of the Earl of Clarendon, in
1667, says, " The king had granted him a large piece of
ground, near St. James's, to build a house on; he
intended a good, ordinary house, but, not understanding
those matters himself, he put the managing of that into
the hands of others, who run him into a vast charge of
about 50,000/., three times as much as he had designed
to lay out upon it. During the war, and in the plague
year, he had about three hundred men at work, which
he thought would have been an acceptable thing, when
so many men were kept at work, and so much money, as
was duly paid, circulated about. But it had a contrary
effect : it raised a great outcry against him ; some called

22 AN ANTIQUAEIAN RAMBLE
it « Dunkirk House,' intimating that it was built by his
share of the price of Dunkirk; others called it 'Holland
House,' because he was believed to be no friend to the
war. So it was given out that he had the money from
the Dutch. It was visible, that, in a time of public
calamity, he was building a very noble palace. Another
accident was, that before the war there were some
designs on foot for the repairing of St. Paul's, and
many stones were brought thither. That project was
laid aside during the war; he upon that bought the
stones, and made use of them in building his own house.
This, how slight soever it may seem to be, yet had a
great effect by the management of his enemies."
Evelyn, again, observes that, on the 26th of April,
1667, he saw the house finished. Again, December 9th,
1667, he visited the late Lord Chancellor, who was sitting
in his " gowt wheele-chayre," and seeing the gates setting
up towards the north and the fields, and that the next
morning he heard he was gone. Again, on the 20th
December, 1668, Evelyn says he dined at Lord Corn-
bury's, at Clarendon House, and saw pictures of most of
our ancient and modern wits.
In 1683, after the Chancellor's death, Evelyn says, the
earl his successor sold that which cost 50,000/. to the
young Duke of Albemarle for 25,000/.; however, in
consequence of his extravagance since the old duke's
death, he sold it, including the ground about it, for
35,000L ; and it was pulled down, to make way for
Albemarle Street, Stafford Street, &c.
The earhest date now to be found upon the site of
Clarendon House is cut in stone, and let into the south

IN THE STEEETS OP LONDON. 23
wall of a public-house, the sign of " The Duke of Albe
marle," in Dover Street, thus : " This is Stafford Street,
1686." In a plan of London etched by Hollar, in 1666,
it is evident that the centre of Clarendon House must
have occupied the whole of the site of Stafford Street.
September 21st, 1699. " The French ambassador has
taken Sir Thomas Bond's House in Piccadilly. Sir
Thomas was Comptroller of the Household to King
Charles the Second, To the, east of Bond Street", whiqh
probably was so named after that family, stands Burling
ton House, the gate of which will be memorable as long
as Hogarth's satirical print of it remains. The hall
and ceilings were painted by Sebastian Ricci. Whatever
objections may have been made to its lofty wall, the
•beautiful arcade within wiU always be admired.
To the honour of Burlington House and the noble earl,
it must be recollected that when Pope, Gay, Arbuthnot,
and others crowded here, Handel was one of its resident
visitors for the space of three years, before he lived in
the house, now Mr. Partington's, No. 57, on the south
side of Brook Street, .four doors from Bond Street, and
two from the gateway. The house and its visitors are
thus commemorated by Gay, in the second canto of his
"Trivia:"  Burlington's fair palace still remainsj
Beauty, within — without, proportion reigns ;
Beneath his eye declining art revives.
The wall with animated pictures lives.
There Handel strikes the strings, the melting strain
Transports the soul, and thrills thro' every vein.
There oft I enter — but with cleaner shoes.
For Burlington's beloved by every muse.
* A pun on the name of this street is attributed to a celebrated

24 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Queensberry House, in Burlington Gardens, the resi
dence of his noble patrons, the Duke and Duchess of
Queensberry, was the house where this amiable poet
breathed his last. He died on the 4th of December,
1 732. After the performance of his " Beggar's 0|5era"
had been prohibited by the Lord Chamberlain, he was
taken into the house of the duke and duchess, who paid
him, says Johnson, the most affectionate attention for the
remaining part of his life. The duke, considering his
want of economy, undertook the management of his
money, and gave it him as he wanted it. But it is sup
posed," continues Johnson, "that the discountenance of
the Court sank deep into his heart, and gave him more
discontent than the applauses or tenderness of his friends
could overpower. Pie soon fell into his old distemper —
an habitual colic ; and languished, though with many
intervals of ease and cheerfulness, till a violent fit at last '
seized him, and hurried him to the grave, as Arbuthnot
reported, with more precipitance than he had ever
known." His body lay in state in Exeter Change in the
Strand, and on the 23rd of December, was, at eight o'clock
in the evening, buried in Poet's Corner. His pall was
supported by the Earl of Chesterfield, Lord Cornbury,
the Hon. Mr. Berkeley, General Domer, Mr. Gore, and
Mr. Pope.
On the western part of Burlington House, the present
Duke of Devonshire, then the noble owner, not only
wit, and I hope its introduction here may not be deemed too
frivolous. He proposed that Bond Street and Bow Street should
exchange names; the former to be called Beau Street, and the
latter, in allusion to the public office and its magistrate Bond
Street.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 25
sheltered the Elgin Marbles during the debates in Parlia
ment respecting them, but made accommodation for the
students to study from them.
This magnificent mansion, which had been for thirty
years the residence of the late Duke of Portland, was
sold by the present Duke of Devonshire to his uncle.
Lord George Cavendish, who has improved it in a spirited
and princely manner.
That most comfortable, quiet, and well-regulated set
of chambers, now under the denomination of the Albany,
stand partly on the site of two houses and long gardens,
which originally reached as far as Vigo Lane. The first
was inhabited in the year 1715, by Sir John Clarges,
and the one toward the east by Lady Stanhope ; they
were taken down, and another mansion erected, which in
1725, according to the plans in St. George's Vestry-room.
was inhabited by the Earl of Sunderland. The first Lord
Melbourne, father of our late Whig Premier, expended
vast sums upon this spot ; his lordship had the ceiling of
the ball-room painted by Cipriani, and those of the other
best rooms by Wheatley and Rebecca. The Duke of
York, who had much improved Lord Amherst's house at
Whitehall, exchanged houses with Lord Melbourne ; it
then received the appellation of York House, and when
his Royal Highness left it, the house was divided into
chambers, the garden built upon, and, in compliment to
its last Royal owner, received the name of his Scottish
dukedom of Albany.
In the vestry of St. James's Church are carefully pre
served the portraits of the eminent prelates, Tenison,
Clarke, Seeker, and Parker.

26 ' AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
On the south wall of this church, near the communion
table, is an appropriate little monument to Dodsley, the
bookseller. On the western wall of the paved church
yard will be found the following epitaph to the memory
of a favourite musical composer :— " Here lieth interred
the remains of Mr. Mathias Vento. He departed this
life the 22nd of November, 1776, aged 40." A small
stone let into the south wall of the tower presents the
foUowing inscription:— "TOM D'URFEY, died Feb. ye
26th, 1723." D'Urfey's "PiUs to Purge Melancholy,"
were published in the year 1720. On a flat stone on
the west side of the parsonage-house is inscribed, " In
memory of Mr. James Gillray, the caricaturist, who de
parted this life 1st of June, 1815, aged 58 years."
The Egyptian Hall, nearly opposite to Bond Street,
is a spacious building, designed by Robinson and deco
rated by L. Gahagan, with the figures of Isis and Osiris,
at the expense of 16,000Z., independent of an annual
ground-rent of 300Z., payable to Government.
At the east end of Piccadilly stood for many years
the two inns, "The Black Bear" and "The White
Bear," (formerly the Fleece Inn,) nearly opposite to each
other; the former of which was taken down (1820,)
to make way for the north side of the Regent Circus ;
the latter still remains, and stands on Crown land.
It was at the White Bear that Luke Sullivan, the
engraver, died. He engraved, among several others, that
very interesting print, "The March to Finchley," from
Hogarth's picture, now in the Foundling Hospital. It
was' in this inn that Chatelain, the engraver, also breathed
his last.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 27
He had taken his lodging here only the night previous,
and was so much reduced in his circumstances that Mr.
Panton Betew, a silversmith, then of Old Compton Street,
a well-known friend to Brooking, TuU, Gainsborough, and
other artists, Mr.. Vivares, the engraver, for Avhom Chate
lain had formerly worked as an etcher of landscapes, and
several other old friends, buried him in the poor ground
of St. James's Workhouse, Poland Street.
It is also worth commemorating that the late President
of the Royal Academy, Mr. West, in consequence of there
being no other nightly lodging-house in London, for there
were no Hummums at that time, lodged at the White
Bear the first night of his arrival from America.
Near the lower part of this street, called Piccadilly,
stood " Wiustanley's Water-Theatre," as appears by the
following advertisfement given in the folio edition of the
"Spectator," in the paper for July 23, 1711 : —
"At the Request of several Persons op Quality. The
famous Water-Theatre of the late ingenious Mr. Winstanley will
continue to be shown for one fortnight, and no' longer, this season.
There is the greatest curiosities in works, the like was never per
formed by any. It is shown for the benefit of his widow every
evening, between 5 and 6 of the clock, with several new additions
made this summer; as three new stages, sea-gods and goddesses,
nymphs, mermaid, and satyrs, all of them playing of water as
suitable, and some with fire mingling with water, and a sea-triumph
round the barrel that plays so many liquors, all which is taken
away after it hath performed its part, and the barrel is broken in
pieces before the spectators. Boxes are 2s. ed., pit Is. 6d., first
gallery Is., upper gallery 6d. It is at the lower end of Pickadilly,
and is known by the wind-mill on the top of it."
Similar advertisements are to be found in the folio
editions of "The Guardian" and "The Englishman,"
published in 1713, in which it appears the performances

28 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
were varied, and rendered more attractive by the addi
tions of " flying dragons, with their mouths filled with
fire, water, and perfumes."
In Windmill Street, so called from a windmill, which
formerly stood on that spot, at thQ sign of the " Coach-
makers' Arms," one of the early concerts was held,
admittance to which was only sixpence ; the others were
performed at Lambeth Wells ; the " Blacksmith's Arms,"
on Lambeth Hill, behind St. Paul's ; the " Cock and
Lion," in St. Michael's Alley, Cornhill ; and the " Uni
corn," at floxton, as may be seen from " The London
Spy," published in 1695.
In Aggas's plan of London, supposed to have been
published about the year 1560, the western road, which
commences at the top of the Hay Market, is inscribed
" The waye to Readinge."
The following are various notices of Piccadilly :—
In Blount's " Glossography," published 1656, the term
Pickadill is thus defined : — " The round hem of a gar
ment, or other thing; also a kinde of stiff collar, made in
fashion of a band." However, perhaps that famous
Ordinary near St. James's, called Pickadilly, took
denomination, because it was then the outmost or
skirt house of the suburbs that way. Others say it
took name from this, that one Higgin, a tailor, who
built it, got most of his estate by Pickadilles, which, in
the last age, were much worn in England. However,
the following account seems to be the earliest in which
mention is made of PickadiUes. Stevens, in his curious
little work, entitled " Essayes and Characters," published
1615, speaking of the di-ess of a plain country bride-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 29
groom, page 354, says, — "The Taylor likewise must be
a vexation to him, or his cloathes would never sit hand
somely; But (above all) a bridle in his mouth would
serve better than a Pickadell; for if you restrain him
from his objects, &, the engine of his necke, you put him
into the Pillory."
The pillory and piccadillos are also thus glanced at
by Butler in his " Hudibras," part iii., canto 1st: —
" Than other perj'ries do the laws,
Which when they're proved in open court,
Wear wooden piccadillo's for't."
In Beaumont and Fletcher's " Pilgrim," act ii., scene 2,
allusion is made to the practice of wearing Pickadelles
by a character to whom a halter has been adjudged —
" This [halter] is a coarse wearing ;
'Twill sit but scurvily upon this collar;
But patience is as good as a French piokadel."
Ben Jonson, in his " Devil is an Ass," act ii., scene 2,
alludes to — " That truth of pickerdill in cloathes.
To boast a sovereignty over ladies."
Pickadils were frequently of an enormous size. Dray
ton, in his " Mooncalf," says of a woman —
" In everything she must be monst'rous,
Her piccadil above her crown appears.''
King James being expected on a visit to Cambridge,
in 1615, an order against wearing pickadils was issued
by the vice-chancellor, reference to which is perpetuated
by Ruggle, in his " Ignoramus "— -
" Leave it, scholar, leave it, and take it not in snuff,
For he that wears no piokadel, by law may wear a ruflV
The following notice of Piccadilly is curious at this

30 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
distance of time:— In Gerard's "Herbal," published in
the reign of Queen Elizabeth (1596), the author, talking
of the "small wild buglosse," says this little flower
" growes upon the drie ditch bankes about PickadiUa,
from which it would appear that the name had been
given to the place even at this early periodc
In that extremely rare plan of London, published by
Faithorne in 1658, the same spot is denominated Picka
dilly Hall.
In the " Memoirs of Evelyn," this part of the town is
mentioned July 13, 1662. He says he was one of the
commissioners for reforming the buildings and streets of
London, and that they ordered the paving of the road
from St. James's North, " which was a quagmire," and
likewise of the Haymarket about " Pigudello." In the
8th and 9th of William III., an act was made for paving
and regulating the Haymarket in the parish of St. Mar
tin's in the Fields, and St. James's within the Liberty of
Westminster. The following are inscriptions on tokens issued by
tradesmen of Piccadilly : — " Robert Beard, in (reverse)
PickadiUa, 1662. God save the King." This was two
years after the restoration of King Charles the Second.
" Richard Thorp Grocer, (reverse,) in Pickadilly, 1666,
his halfe penny."
"William HiU, 1670, (reverse,) Piccadilly."
In the reign of King Charles II. the street called
Piccadilly only extended to the site of Swallow Street.
The way from thence to the site of Devonshire House
was called Portugal Street, probably in compliment to
Queen Catherine of Portugal, consort of Charles II.; and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 31
from Devonshire House to Hyde Park Corner was called
"the road to Exeter." The street denominated the
Haymarket has, at aU events, been a place for the sale
of that commodity ever since the reign of Queen Eliza
beth, as it is under that appellation in Aggas's plan, and
at that time evidently out of town, as there were hedge
rows on either side, and few indications of houses nearer
than the village of Charing, and the air was so clear that
the washer-women conveyed their linen in tubs to spread
it upon the grass in the fields, commencing on the site of
the present Opera House.
The following inscription on a token in the British
Museum may not only afford the name of an early
tradesman of this place but one of the first venders of
Sea Coal : — " Nathaniel Robins, at the Sea Coale seller,
1666, (reverse,) Hay Markett, in PickadiUa, his half
penny." Probably Henry Croke, the brother of Henry, Pro
fessor of Rhetoric in Gresham OoUege, was one of the
first respectable inhabitants of the Haymarket, as the
Professor died in his house in 1680, November 17.
The large house No. 17, on the south-west corner of
James's Street, now inhabited by Hastings and White,
chemists to Her Majesty, was evidently built in the reign
of King Charles II. ; and tradition says that that monarch
and the Duke of York used to walk through it to the
Tennis Court, behind which it stiU stands, bearing the
date of 1673 on its front.
The next buUding of notoriety was the little theatre,
originally called the French theatre. It was erected in
1720 by one Potter, with the design of letting it to a

32 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
company of foreign performers. A new theatre on the
same site was built by the celebrated Foote, which was
opened in 1767. It is said that the most profitable per
formances ever carried on in this house were those of the
famous Maddox, in 1 770. A copy of a biU of fare is here
introduced, announcing his first appearance in England : —
" At the Theatre Royal in the Hay-Market, ou Monday next, the
10th instant, Mr. Maddox will, for the first time of his performing
in England, exhibit several feats of activity, as undermentioned. —
1. He will swing and walk on the wire. 2. Balance a pipe on full
swing to the extent of the wire. 3. A cross balance. 4. Takes
a long pipe in his mouth, and places another on the small end
whilst on full swiug. 5. Balances an egg upon a straw on the
wire. 6. A double cross balance. 7. Balances a straw on the
edge of a glass, and kneels on the wire. 8. Places a long pipe
on a harp, and puts a bunch of pipes into a bowl. 9. A tri
angular balance. 10. Balances a hat on the tip-end of a pipe
several ways. 11. Stands with one foot on the wire, balances a
straw upon the edge of a glass, and plays on the fiddle at the
same time. 12. Plays several tricks with two forks and two
apples. 13. Stands with one foot on the wire, balances a pipe
on the top of a hoop, and beats a country-dance on a drum at
the same time. 1 1. Will set a table across the wire, and perform
a table-dance with three pewter plates. 15. Stands on his head
on the wire in full swing.
Second part. Tosses and catches a straw on different parts of
his face, and from his left to his right shoulder; from thence to his
knees down to his feet; tosses it up again to his forehead, and from
thence to his right heel ; then holds a wine glass in his mouth, and
tosses the straw with his heel into the glass ; takes the straw with
the ear downwards, and with a blast blows it topsy-turvy. Balances
and blows the French-horn, plays on the fiddle, and beats a drum,
all at one time. He will balance two peacocks' feathers, one on
the edge of a glass, and the other on his nose; with many other
performances too tedious to mention.
Tlurd part. He will perforin several physical experiments, such
as have never been seen in England. And the whole will conclude
with a grand transparent scene, in which will be introduced a

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 33
musical Dialogue between William and Mary, call'd LOVE and
RESOLUTION; composed by Dr. Arne, and sung by Mr. Baker
and Mrs. Beaumont.
To which will be added a new ballad-dance, by Mr. Leppi.
Between the different performances the audience will be enter
tained with singing and dancing. As IVIr. Maddox has spared
no expense to make the whole as entertaining as possible to the
public, he hopes to meet with their approbation.
As many have been deterred from going to see performances on
the wire, merely from the apparent danger, Mr. Maddox does not
propose having his more than three feet from the stage.
Boxes, 5s. ; pit, 3s. ; first gall., 2s.; upper gall.. Is.
The doors to be opened at five o'clock, and to begin exactly at
six. The house will be opened twice a week, Mondays and Thurs
days." (See "The Public Advertiser" for Saturday, Decem
ber 8th, 1770.)
The profits of this Strawman's agility in one season
amounted to 11,000/., being 2,500/. more than Garrick's
a few years previous, as may be seen from Davies's Life
of that great actor.
A remarkable instance of credulity in connexion with
this theatre remains to be stated. In the year 1749, an
advertisement appeared in the newspaper, stating that on
a certain evening a famous bottle-conjuror would perform.
He undertook to elicit the music of any known instru
ment from the walking cane of any of the audience, after
which he would walk into a quart bottle, placed upon a
table in the middle of the stage, and sing in it. On the
appointed night the house was crowded to suffocation,
but, as the conjuror was tardy in making his appearance,
the audience became impatient, and roared out for a
return of their money. The stage-manager at last
appeared ; exhorted them to keep quiet, and promised
VOL. I. D

34 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
that their money should be returned if no performance
took place. Some person in the pit caUed out that, if
the ladies and gentlemen who were impatient would pay
double price, he would walk into a pint bottle ! A burst
of laughter foUowed the announcement ; the spectators
became sensible, for the first time, of their own foUy,
and a tremendous riot began. The discontented people
of the pit and gaUery tore up the benches, broke the
lamps, and made a complete wreck of the inside of the
theatre. They afterwards coUected the spoils, and car
ried them into the open street, and made a bonfire of
them. It was not the present edifice that was honoured by
the appearance of Foote and Garrick. That building
was taken down in the year 1820, and the present
elegant theatre erected from the designs of Mr. Nash.
It was first opened on the 4th of July, 1821, when the
performances were Sheridan's Comedy of the "Rivals,"
and a new Vaudeville, caUed " Peter and Paul," which
was never suffered to become an old one.
Between this theatre and Cockspur Street, opposite to
the present Opera House, Broughton, the Champion of
England, as he caUed himself, in the reign of George II.,
kept a public-house, whose sign was that of his own por
trait without his wig, as a bruiser. Underneath it was
the foUowing Une from Virgil ; {M. V. 484.)
" Hie victor Csestus aftemque repono."
In one of the numerous boxing-biUs of the day, dated
January 1st, 1742, Broughton commences the new year
with proposals for erecting an amphitheatre for the
manly exercise of boxing. This stage was erected within

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 35
the premises of the " Adam and Eve" pubUc-house, at
the end of Tottenham Court Road. Hogarth has taken
it into the left side of his picture of " The March to
Finchley." Broughton also, on the 1st of February,
1747, proposed to open "A Boxing Academy" at his
house in the Haymarket, for the instruction of gen
tlemen, "where the whole theory and practice of that
truly British art, with aU the various stops, blows, cross-
buttocks, &c., incident to combatants, wiU be fuUy taught
and explained."
Theophilus Cibber was a great amateur among the
boxers, as weU as in the business of the play-house. He
was frequently applied to for a vaunting biU, of which
the following, for Broughton's theatre, is here introduced
as a specimen :
"AT THE NEW THEATRE
"IN THE HAY-MARKET, ON WEDNESDAY THE
29th of this instant April.
" The beauty of the Science of defence will be shown in a Trial of
Skill, between the following masters, viz :—
"Whereas, there was a battle fought on the 18th of March last,
between MR. JOHNSON, from Yorkshire, and MR. SHERLOCK,
from Ireland, in which engagement they came so near as to throw
each other down. Since that rough battle, the said SHERLOCK
has challenged JOHNSON to fight him, strapt down to the stage,
for twenty pounds; to which the said JOHNSON has agreed; and
they are to meet at the time and place above mentioned, and fight
in the following manner, viz., to have their left feet strapt down to
the stage, within the reach of each other's right leg; and the most
bleeding wounds to decide the wager. N. B. The undaunted young
James, who is thought the bravest of his age in the manly art of
boxing, fights the stout-hearted George Gray, for ten pounds, who
values himself for fighting the famous Glover, at Tottenham
Court. Attendance to be given at ten, and the m/xslers mount at
twelve. Cudgel-playing and boxing to divert the gentlemen till
the battle begins."
D 2

36 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
In one of these biUs " Frenchmen are requested to
bring smelling-bottles."
This Broughton lived to the age of eighty-five, and
died in 1789. He was many years a Yeoman of the
Guard. Retracing our steps on the other side of the street,
that we may re-enter Piccadilly, and arrive at Pall Mall,
by way of St. James's Street, the first object that solicits
remarkable attention is the Italian Opera House, in the
present reign the favourite resort of Majesty.
The first Opera House in the Haymarket was built by
Sir John Vanbrugh. It was first opened in 1 705, under
the appellation of the Queen's Theatre, for the exclusive
performance of Italian operas. In the year 1720, in
consequence of the inadequate support received from the
public, a fund of 50,000/. was raised by subscription, of
which King George I. contributed 1000/., and the
general management of the concern vested in a governor,
deputy-governor, and twenty directors, under the name
of the Royal Academy of Music. Owing to its inele
gance and inconvenience, this building was continuaUy
under process of alteration and improvement. On the
night of the 17th of June, 1789, a fire broke out in the
theatre which, in the course of a few hours, laid it in
ruins. Madame RaveUi, one of the performers, had a
narrow escape from perishing in the flames. A smaU
part of the wardrobe and a few other trifling articles
were the only things saved. Pennant, in his " Itinerary"
condemns the buUding, and says the fire was happily the
means of removing it effectually. Preparations were
immediately made for the erection of a new edifice, and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 37
the design of Mr. Novosichki having been adopted, the
foundation-stone of the present building was laid on the
3rd of April, 1790, by the Earl of Buckinghamshire.
It was never much admired when completed, and in
general considered so gloomy and inelegant that Mr.
Nash and Mr. G. Repton were employed, in 1820, to
decorate and improve it. Under their superintendence
the colonnade on three sides of the building was erected,
and the emblematical figures in basso relievo, displaying
the rise and progress of music, placed along the front.
They are from the design of Mr. B. Biibb, the sculptor.
It is weU known that the |irst hint of introducing
Italian operas into England was given in the reign of
Charles II., at the Duchess of Mazarine's, at Chelsea.
In Market Lane, which has given place to the Western
Colonnade of the Opera House, lived Torre*, the print-
seller ; he was the principal and famous fire-worker at
Mary-le-bone Gardens.
In St. Alban's Street, on the site of which the lower
and western side of Waterloo Place now stands, stood
the mansion of Jermyn, Earl of St. Alban's. It was on
the .north-west corner of Charles Street, and is thus
noticed in the "Historian's Guide," p. 57, — " On May
31, 1670, His Majesty and His Royal Highness were
entertained at supper by the Prince of Tuscany at St.
* It was either on him or on one of his brother artists in pyro-
techny, that it was proposed to parody Dryden's celebrated prose
epitaph on Purcell, whom the poet described as received into " that
blessed place where only his music could be exceeded." The parody
of course referred to " that cursed place where only his fireworks
could be exceeded."

38 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Alban's House, in St. James's Fields." This was the
night before the Duke departed for HoUand. The house
afterwards was a tavern, and remained so until it was
taken down for the improvements made in Regent Street
m 1820 and 1821. The foUowing inscription, though
without date, was upon a token issued by one of its
landlords,—" George Carter at ye St. Albans, (reverse)
in St. Albans Street, neere St. James Market."
Sept. 27, 1665, at the time of the plague, a market
was proclaimed to be kept in St. James's Fields. The
foUowing inscription is upon a token of one of its early
inhabitants, — " Richard Athy, 1668, (reverse) in St.
James Markett-place, his halfe-peny."
Mrs. Anne Oldfield, the actress, so well-known for her
kindness to the poet Savage, who was born in PaU Mall
in 1683, was, when in her sixteenth year, assistant to
Mrs. Voss, keeper of the Mitre Tavern in this market.
When she became celebrated in her profession, she resided
in Southampton Street, Covent Garden, died in Gros-
venor Street, Oct. 23, 1730, and, previously to her
interment in Westminster, lay in state in the Jerusalem
Chamber. It appears by an advertisement in " The Spectator,"
dated Sept. 14, 1711, that the keeper of the wine-vaults
under this market, invited the pubhc by stating that he
constantly kept four fii-es, and accommodation of eat
ables. Jermyn and St. Alban's Streets were named
after the proprietor of those and the neighbouring streets,
Jermyn, Earl of St. Alban's, in compliment to whom the
armorial bearings of that family (sable a crescent between

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 39
two mullets in pale argent,) are displayed over the south
entrance of St. James's Church""'.
Before the reader descends St. James's Street, his atten
tion is requested to those of Bennet and ArUngton, so
caUed from Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington. The
ground which the above streets occupy was the famous
mulberry-gardens, a place of public entertainment until
granted by patent, the ,24th of Charles II., (1672), to
the above-named Earl.
The king demised to Henry, Earl of Arlington, at a
rent of twenty shiUings per annum, that whole piece or
parcel of ground, caUed the Mulberry Gardens, situated
in the parish of St. Martin's in the Fields, together with
eight houses, with their appurtenances thereon, for ninety-
nine years, from the Feast of St. John the Baptist, then
last past, if there should be no former lease of the pre
mises, to Walter Lord Aston, or any other person, unde
termined ; and if there should be any such lease unde
termined, then, for ninety-nine years from the determi
nation of such lease. This ground, probably about that
time, ceased to be a place of pubHc entertainment, and
became part of the gardens of Arlington House.
Dryden used to frequent this garden ; he ate tarts
there with Mrs. Anne Reeve, his mistress, as we learn
* Mr. Dallaway, (" Observations on English Architecture,")
being ignorant of the heraldic allusion and its propriety, has dealt
out a hypercritical censure against Sir Christopher Wren for the
introduction of these ornaments, which he complains of as better
suited to a pagan temple of Diana than to a Christian church.
Thus has this modern champion of the cross hurled his anathemas
against the crescent with all the zeal, and much of the inteEigence ,
of an ancient crusader.

40 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
from a curious passage in his life by Malone*, quoted
from a contemporary writer, whose name is not given f.
From Sir Charles Sedley's (the Rake and Mohock,) play
of " The Mulberry Garden," published in 1668, it appears
that the company assembled there in the evening, and
that there were arbours in the gardens, in which they
were regaled with cheesecakes, syllabubs, and wine
sweetened with sugar. The ladies frequently went there
in masks. In this comedy it is said, that he who wished
to be considered a man of fashion, always drank wine
and water at dinner, and a dish of tea afterwards. In
act i., scene 2, of the same play, Ned Estridge observes
to Harry Modish, —
" These country ladys, for the first month, take up their places
in the mulberry-garden as- early as a citizen's wife at a new play.
Harry Modish. — And for the most part are as easily discovered.
They have always somewhat on, that is just left off by the better
sort. Ned Estridge. — They are the antipodes of the Court; for when
a fashion sets there, it rises among them."
In " The Humorous Lovers," a comedy written by the
Duke of Newcastle, and published in 1677, the third
scene of act i. is in the mulberry-garden. Baldman
* See Malone's " Life of Dryden," vol. i., p. 466.
t The sarcastic author of the " Pursuits of Literature" has not
spared Malone for the minute precision with which such, tales are
recorded by him :
Nor he, whose essence wit and taste approved,
Forget the midberry tarts that Dryden loved.
Pursuits of Literature, P. iv., 227.
Surely, however, where Dryden is the theme, the biographer who
records these little traits of character and domestic life is entitled
not only to our forgiveness, but to our gratitude.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 41
observes to Courtly, " 'Tis a delicate plump wench; now
a blessing on the hearts of them that were the contrivers
of this garden; this wilderness is the prettiest convenient
place to woo a Widow Courtly."
It appears from " The Memoirs of Evelyn," that the
mansion in which Mr. Secretary Bennet (afterwards
created Lord Arlington) resided was called Goring
House. This was probably one of the eight houses
mentioned in the grant to his Lordship in 1 6 72.
Evelyn, on March 29, 1665, went to Mr. Secretary
Bennet's (Goring House) : he observes it was ill-built,
but that it might be much improved. On September
21, 1674, Evelyn laments Lord Arlington's loss by fire
at Goring House, and states that it was " consumed to
ye ground."
In 1708, ArUngton Street was inhabited by the Duke
of Richmond, Lord Guildford, Lord Kingston, Lord
Brooke, and Lord Cholmondeley ; in 1711 by the Earl
of Stair; and in 1749 by the Earl of Middlesex, member
for Old Sarum; Sir William Codrington, member for
Beverley; John Pitt, Esq., member for Wareham; and
Charles Horatio Walpole, member for Callington.
The Honourable Horace Walpole dated many of his
letters from this street, in which he resided for several
years before he went to Berkeley Square.
The iUustrious Charles James Fox was also an inha
bitant of this street, and the late Duke of York died in
it in 1827, in the house of the Duke of Rutland.
The Marquis Camden's is one of the finest houses in
the street. It stands in the recess on the right from
PiccadiUy. In this mansion there is a whole length

42 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
portrait of the late Lord Camden seated : it was painted
for GuUdhaU by Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was obliged
to paint another one in a standing position, as it was to
be placed near the pictures of the late King and Queen,
by Ramsay.
The houses on the south of the Marquis Camden's are
Lord Sefton's, the Marquis of SaUsbury's, the Earl of
Zetland's, and Lord Yarborough's. At the last-named
mansion, in the gaUery leading to the HaU, the late
Lord placed the foUowing busts of eminent men — they
are aU in marble from the hand of NoUekens, viz.. Mar
quis of Rockingham, Mr. Fox, Mr. Pitt, the late Duke of
Devonshire, Lord 0. Cavendish, the Earl of Leicester,
Lord Milton, Francis Duke of Bedford, Sir G. SaviUe,
Mr. 0. Windham, Sir Joseph Banks, Dudley Long North,
and Earl PitzwiUiam. In the hall there are busts of
Pope and Sterne, also by NoUekens. Here his Lordship
has placed the fine marble group of Neptune and Triton,
by Bernini, purchased of the executors of Sir Joshua
Reynolds for the sum of 500/. In this haU Hkewise
stands Bacon's figure of Mars, larger than life, in marble*.
St. James's Street was in 1670 caUed " The long
street." It was in this street and not in Piccadilly, as
has been often stated, that the infamous Colonel Blood,
whose name is so weU known for his daring attempt to
* These, however, form but a very small proportion of his Lordship's
invaluable stores. The celebrated Niobe (attributed to Scopas) is
in the Gallery at Brocklesby ; and when we recollect that all the
treasures of the " Museum Worsleianum" will also be concentrated
in the heir of this family, it is scarcely going too far to pronounce
the collection unrivalled by that of any other individual in the
country.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 43
rob the Tower of the regalia of England, set upon the
Duke of Ormond, aided by four ruffians, and attempted
to assassinate him on his way to Clarendon House. The
object of the conspirators was not, however, the instan
taneous murder of the Duke. They intended to carry
him to Tyburn, and hang him on the stationary gibbet
upon that spot, in revenge for a punishment inflicted
upon some companions of theirs in Ireland during the
Duke's administration of the affairs of that country. The
Duke was dragged out of his carriage, and tied on a horse
behind one of the viUains, who was spurring his steed
towards Tyburn. He managed, however, to disengage
his hands and struggle with his assailant, until his do
mestics arrived to his rescue. The future favour shown
by the Court to this sanguinary ruffian is a mystery
which it is not easy to unravel. After his attempt upon
the regalia he received a pension of 500Z. per annum,
was constantly seen in. the purlieus of the Court and in
the presence chamber, and was pardoned by the Duke of
Ormond for his offence against him, at the earnest soU-
citation of the Court.
This street is known aU over Europe for its clubs, the
more noticeable of which we shaU descrii)e, as we descend
the hiU towards St. James's Palace.
As we turn into St. James's Street from PiccadUly,
we see to the right a very massive and imposing struc
ture, which, however, presents at this moment an appear
ance of ominous blackness, suggestive of the name by
which, in common with some of its fellows in the neigh
bourhood, it was popularly caUed. This edifice, which

44 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
seems to have been "built in the ecUpse," was, until
lately, Crockford's, or the St. James's Club House.
We borrow from an article in a popular periodical, the
author of which, from his signature, " Perditus," may be
presumed to be " one who hath had losses," the foUow
ing description of the interior as it shone in its palmy clays.
" On entering from the street, a magnificent vestibule
and staircase break upon the view ; to the right and left
of the haU are reading and dining-rooms. The staircase
is of a sinuous form, sustained in its landing by four
columns of the Doric order, above which are a series of
examples of the Ionic order, forming a quadrangle, with
apertures to the chief apartments. Above the pUlars is
a covered ceiling perforated with luminous panels of
stained glass, from which springs a dome of surpassing
beauty; from the dome depends a lantern containing
a magnificent chandelier.
" The state drawing-room next attracts attention, — a
most noble apartment, baffling perfect description of its
beauty, but decorated in the most florid style of the
school of Louis Quatorze. The room presents a series of
panels, containing subjects, in the style of Watteau,
from the pencU of Mr. Martin, a relative of the celebrated
historical painter of that name : these panels are alter
nated with splendid mirrors. A chandelier of exquisite
workmanship hangs from the centre of the ceiling, and
three large tables, beautifully carved and gUded, and
covered with rich blue and crimson velvet, are placed .in
different parts of the room. The upholstery and decora
tive adjuncts are imitative of the gorgeous taste of George

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 45
the Fourth. Royalty can scarcely be conceived to vie
with the style and consummate splendour of this magni
ficent chamber.
" The lofty and capacious dining-room, supported by
marble piUars, and furnished in the most substantial and
aristocratic style of comfort, is equal to any arrangement
of the kind in the most lordly mansions.
" The drawing-room is aUowed to be one of the most
elegant apartments in the kingdom.
" The sanctum-sanctorum, or play-room, is compara
tively small, but handsomely furnished. In the centre of
the apartment stands the aU-attractive hazard-table,
innocent and unpretending enough in its form and ap
pearance, but fatally mischievous and destructive in its
conjunctive influence with box and dice. On this table
it may with truth be asserted that the greater portion,
if not the whole, of Crockford's immense wealth was
achieved; and for this piece of plain, unassuming ma
hogany he had doubtless a more profound veneration
than for the most costly piece of furniture that ever
graced a palace. This bench of business is large, and of
oval shape, well stuffed, and covered with fine green cloth,
marked with yeUow lines, denoting the different depart
ments of speculation. Round these compartments are
double lines, similarly marked, for the odds or propor
tions between what is technically known as the main and
chance. In the centre on each side are indented posi
tions for the croupiers, or persons engaged at the table
in calUng the main and chance, regulating the stakes,
and paying and receiving money as the events decisive of
gain and loss occur.

46 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
" Over the table is suspended a three-Ught lamp, con
veniently shaded, so as to throw its full luminous power
on the cloth, and at the same time to protect the eyes of
the croupiers from the Ught's too strong effect. At an
other part of the room is fixed a writing-table or desk,
where the Pluto of the place was wont to preside, to
mete out loans on draft or other security, and to answer
aU demands by successful players. Chairs of easy make,
dice-boxes, bowls for holding counters representing sums
from 1/. to 200/., with small hand-rakes used by players
to draw their counters from any inconvenient distance
on the table, may be said to complete the furniture, ma
chinery, and implements of this great worhshop."
This vast gaming-house was buUt in 1827, from de
signs by the Messrs. Wyatt. It is now to be sold.
Arthur's, Graham's, the Cocoa Tree, the Guards', the'
Albion, and the Colonial Clubs, do not caU for anjj
special notice.
The Conservative Club, recently completed, is a very
handsome buUding, and, considered as a whole, deserves
almost as much praise as has been bestowed upon it.
Taken altogether, the fagade is rich and imposing.
Moreover, it has something unusual in its design. But
this edifice has not escaped criticism. It has been ob
jected that the striking novelties we see in it, so far from
being among its merits are, on the contrary, disagreeable
whims and oddities. The entrance-porch and bay-win
dows, retreating within the buUding, are said to impart a
weakness, where soUdity ought to have been most strongly
expressed. White's is the next which claims attention. It was

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 47
built from a design of James Wyatt. This is on the left
hand from Piccadilly ; the original White's was more in
the middle on the right hand. White's Chocolate House
is referred to in the folio edition of the " Spectator," pub
hshed in 1711. The foUowing is an extract from Cole's
MSS., vol. xxxi., page 171, in the British Museum: — ¦
" The following humorous address was supposed to be wrote by
Colonel Lytelton, brother to Sir George Lytelton, in 1752, on His
Majesty's return from Hanover, when numberless addresses were
presented. White's Chocolate House, near St. James's Palace, was
the famous gaming-house, where most of the nobility had meetings
and a Society. It was given to me December 8th, 1752, by Sir
Robert Smyth, Baronet, at Horseth Hall.
" The Gamester's Address to the King.
" Most righteous Sovereign :
" May it please your Majesty,
"We, the Lords, Knights, &c,, of the Society of Whites, beg
leave to throw ourselves at your Majesty's feet, (our honours and
consciences lying under the table, &c., our fortunes being at stake)
and congratulate your Majesty's happy return to these Kingdoms,
which assembles us together, to the great advantage of some, the
ruin of others, and the unspeakable satisfaction of all — both us, our
wives, and children.
" We beg leave to acknowledge your Majesty's great goodness and
lenity in allowing us to break those laws which we ourselves have
made, and you have sanctified and confirmed; while your Majesty
alone religiously observes and regards them.
" And we beg leave to assure your Majesty of our most unfeigned
loyalty and attachment to your sacred person ; and that next to
the Kings of Diamonds, Clubs, Spades, and Hearts, we love, honour,
and adore you."
" To which his Majesty was pleased to return this most gracious
, answer, —
" My Lords and Gentlemen, —
" I return you my thanks for your loyal address : but whilst I
have such rivals in your affection as you tell me, I can neither
think it worth preserving or regarding. I look upon you yourselves
as a pack of cards, and shall deal with you accordingly."

48 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
The members of White's consist of 1000, who pay
each ten guineas a year, and one guinea to the head
waiter, who finds aU the other attendants. The club
pay for their own cards and dice. In the dining-room is
a whole-length portrait of King George I. as large as
Ufe, presented by the late Earl of Besborough. On
either side the chimney-piece is a picture by Canaletti,
spiritedly painted. One is a view of London, taking in
London Bridge when the houses were upon it, from old
Somerset House Gardens ; the other is of Westminster,
with the bridge just built, taken from the water, off Cuper's
Gardens, a place of public entertainment in the last
century, in some respects similar to those of Vauxhall
now. John White died September 28, 1768.
In 1711, on one of the corners of Jermyn Street, stood
"The Anchor Tavern," and in 1728 Ozanda kept a cho
colate-house, which went by his name.
The subscription-house below Jermyn Street, on the
left hand, now Boodle's, formerly called the " Savoir
Vivre," consists of about 500 members. The one oppo
site to it, Brookes's, buUt after a design by Holland, con
sists of 550. Here are the portraits of the late Duke of
Devonshire and of the Right Hon. C. J. Fox. There was
a beginning of a portrait of Dudley North, but as it was
in an unfinished state it was raffled for, and now is in pri
vate hands. In the adjoining street. Park Place, lived Sir
Wm. Musgrave, Bart., from whose interesting coUection of
British portraits Bromley derived most of his materials
for his catalogue : the house is now No. 9.
In the house No. 29, on the south, lived and died the

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 49
famous GiUray; the shop for years was well known as
Miss Humphrey's, the caricature printseller, sister of the
conchologist, and the vender of his works. GiUray was
first the pupil of the friendly Mr. Ashby, the cele
brated writing engraver, of whom there is a portrait
engi'aved. He afterwards studied under Bartolozzi,
and engraved several portraits and other subjects in a
steady mechanical way, but soon followed the genuine
bent of his genius, though, it must be acknowledged, it
was too often at the expense of honour and even com
mon honesty. He would by his pubUcations either
divulge family secrets which ought to have been ever at
rest, or expect favours for the plates which he destroyed.
This talent, by which he made many worthy persons so
uneasy, was inimitable ; and his works, though time may
destroy every point of their sting, will rentain specimens
of a rare power, both for character and composition.
Among numerous instances, he suffered himself to be
the hireling against Samuel Ireland, the publisher of the
pretended Shakspeare papers. Ireland had given away
an etching, a portrait of himself This print Gillray
copied, and offered a few impressions publicly for sale in
Miss Humphrey's shop window, December 1, 1797, with
the foUowing inscription added under it, declaring it to
have been written by the Rev. Wm. Mason, but it was
weU known it came from the pen of the late George
Steevens, viz. : —
" Four forgers, born in one prolific age,
Much critical acumen did engage.
The first was soon by doughty Douglas scar'd,
Tho' Johnson would have screen'd him had he dar'd* ;
* Lander.
VOL. I. B

50 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
The next had all the cunning of a Scot* ;
The third, invention, genius, — nay, what nott?
Fraud, now exhausted, only could dispense
To her fourth son their threefold impudence."
GiUray was buried in the churchyard of St. James,
PiccadUly, as already stated.
The newspapers of 1711 state that, "At the 'Bunch
of Grapes,' next door to the Bagnio, in St. James's
Street, was sold extraordinary good cask Florence wine,
at 6s. per gaUon." This must have been the next house
to Pero's, now Fenton's, on the right-hand side — a bagnio
of old standing, as appears by the title of a catalogue of
the valuable coUection of pictures, the property of the
late Mr. Bartrum AumaUkey, alias Pero, who kept the
bagnio previous to 1714. The auction took place at the
" Two Blue Flower-pots," in Dean Street, Soho, Jan. 5th,
1714. The first lot was AumaUkey's own portrait — a
three-quarter's, and sold for 2s. 6d. The second portrait
was of himself also — it was painted by Lutterel in
crayons on copper, and was knocked down for 5s. And
what is stiU more woeful, a portrait of Louis the Four-
reenth, as large as life, by Sir Godfrey Kneller, (who,
according to Spence, was to make choice of any seat in
heaven,) brought the sum of 2s. !
The next house of notoriety is now No. 62, occupied
by Lanriere, 'the JeweUer. It was formerly held by an
old lady, weU known under the appeUation of " Political
Betty." Gentlemen took jeUies there.
Every nook of St. James's Place can boast of its great
inhabitants in the days of yore. Addison lodged in it,
before he married Lady Warwick. Mrs. Robinson, the
* Macpherson. f Chatterton.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 51
Actress, Hved in the house now No. 13. And in a MS.
letter, addressed by John Wilkes to his friend, Mr. DeU
of Aylesbury, Sept. 11, 1756, he says, "Direct to me at
Mrs. Murray's, in St. James's Place, where I am in very
elegant lodgings."
Nor is this spot now less classic. The house. No, 22,
was buUt on the site of one inhabited by the late Duke
of St. Alban's, for Samuel Rogers, Esq., author of " The
Pleasures of Memory," &c. James Wyatt, R.A., was the
architect, but much of its elegance depended on its
worthy owner. Here are treasured some of the finest
works of modern and ancient art. Flaxman designed the
cornices and chimney-pieces; Stothard shines in vivid
splendour in the decorations of a cabinet, designed by
Mr. Rogers as a receptacle for his choice specimens ot
ItaUan art, among which are his matchless impressions
of the Cartoons at Hampton Court : each print is pro
duced by blocks of seventeen colours, and also with one
block charged with sUver, and another with gold. Among
his pictures are nine by Sir Joshua Reynolds — three ot
the more noticeable of which are, Little Puck, Cupid and
Psyche, The Sleeping Girl.
The house No. 25 was formerly inhabited by Lord
Guildford, and now is by Sir Francis Burdett. The library
is singularly elegant, being an octagon, surrounded on
five sides by a gaUery ; the fittings-up are of a beautiful
wood, caUed snake-wood, procured by Lord Guildford
from Ceylon, whilst he was Governor of that colony. In
the dining-room is an ancient puteal with most beautiful
bas reUefs, and an alto-relievo of a Greek phUosopher.
The staircase is partly in imitation of the. Temple of
Pandrosos,
e2

52 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Earl Spencer's is the next to be noticed. It was
designed by Vardy in 1763 ; the figures on the top were
executed by Michael Henry Spong, the Dane, before
mentioned. The attractions of this house, as well as all
the others possessed by the noble Earl, can never be
equal to those of his lordship's library, for an account of
which the reader is referred to the work of the Rev.
Dr. Frognall Dibdin.
The reader wiU now return to St. James's Street, and
notice the house No. 76, at the south corner of Little
St. James's Street, which is remarkable as the spot where
Gibbon the historian breathed his last.
The next object of notoriety is " The Thatched
House Tavern," so caUed in 1711. From the appear
ance of the back of this house, so long known under the
above appellation, it may reasonably be looked upon as
one of the earliest structures buUt so near the Palace.
It will long be remembered as the place of meeting
of some of the first clubs for rank and talent in
England. The pictures which adorn the room in which the mem
bers of the Dilettanti Society hold their meetings, are
portraits of the foUowing gentlemen, viz.
Sir Bourchier Wrey.
Sir James Gray.
Sir Wallis Shirley.
The Earl of Moira.
Earl of Sandwich.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, by himself, without a cap, looking over the
right shoulder.
Mr. Farquhar.
Earl of Besborough.
Earl 0^ Holdernesse.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 53
Major-General Gray.
Mr. Brand.
Col. Denny.
Sir Henry Englefield, by Sir Thomas Lawrence.
Lord Dundas, by ditto.
Mr. Howe.
Lord Barrington.
Mr. Harris.
Lord Galloway.
Mr. West.
Lord le Despencer.
Saml. Savage, Esq.
Baron Hobergh.
Sir Brownlow Sherard.
Earl of Blessington.
Duke of Dorset.
Lord Hyde.
Duke of Bedford, and Richard Payne Knight, Esq, by Sir
Thomas Lawrence.
A portrait of Lord Sandwich is at the south end of
the room ; he was founder and president of the Catch
Club. This room, which is spacious and the best in the house,
has two chimneys on the west side ; over the one at the
north end of the room there are portraits of the fol
lowing gentlemen all in one picture, a whole length
canvas. The late Lord Mulgrave; the late Lord Dundas ;
Lord Seaforth ; Hon. C. Greville; Charles Crowle, Esq.;
Sir Joseph Banks, and the Duke of Leeds.
Sir Joseph Banks and the Duke of Leeds over the
chimney at the south end of the room ; in another of
the same dimensions are portraits of the following gen
tlemen ; — Sir WiUiam Hamilton, Sir Watkin WUliam
Wynn, (grandfather of the present Baronet,) Richard

54 AN ANTIQUAEIAN RAMBLE
Thompson, Esq., Sir John Taylor, Payne Galway, Esq.,
John Smith, Esq., and Walter Spencer Stanhope, Esq.
Both these pictures are invaluable specimens of Sir
Joshua, as they are now as fresh as when first painted.
Over the chimney of a back room, on the first floor,
hangs another portrait of Sir Joshua Reynolds, with
spectacles on, simUar to the one in the royal coUection,
engraved by Caroline Watson. This picture was pre
sented by Sir Joshua, as the founder of The Club, which
commenced in 1764, at the "Turk's Head Tavern," in
Gerrard Street, Soho, though the annals are not earUer
than AprU 7, 1775. The Club, which originaUy con
sisted of thirty members, on the 7th of May, 1780,
was augmented to thirty-five, and not to exceed forty.
On the death of the landlord of the " Turk's Head" the
Club moved, in 1 783, to the sign of the " Prince," in Sack-
viUe Street, from thence to Baxter's, in Dover Street,
and then, on January 17, 1792, to Parsloe's, in St.
James's Street, and from thence, on February 26, 1799,
to the " Thatched House," where it now remains.
After the death of Sir Charles Bunbury, Bart., the
late Earl Spencer presided as the father Of the Club.
The foUowing are inscriptions upon tokens issued by
tradesmen of this street ; —
" WiUiam Maslet, 1663, (reverse) in St. James's Street,
his halfpeny."
"H _ , , in S. Jams Streete, (reverse) in Westminster."
T M
" Smith Edward, at ye Poet's (reverse) Head in St.
James's Street, his halfe peny."

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 55
" Kenyon Roger, in Stable (reverse) Yard, at St.
James's, 1666, his halfe penny; t> '*
The reader is now conducted to Cleveland Row. Berk
shire House, afterwards Cleveland House, was inhabited
by the Duchess of Cleveland, one of the many favou
rites of King Charles II. It originaUy belonged to the
Howards, Earls of Berkshire, of whom it was purchased
by Charles II., for the purpose of being presented to the
beautiful Barbara, who was known in her own age by the
name of the Fairy. The house was then much larger
than it is at present, and the Duchess finding it more
spacious than was necessary for her state, sold part of it,
which was afterwards converted into two or three sepa
rate dweUings. It was long the residence of the late
Duke of Sutherland, when Marquis of Stafford, who
made various alterations and improvements in it.
The large building which stands nearly opposite, over
topping considerably the mean-looking waUs of the old
palace of St. James, was buUt originally for the late
Duke of York. After his death it, was purchased by the
Marquis of Stafford, whose son, the present Duke of
Sutherland, resides in it. The duke, since his accession
to the title, has added an additional story to the edifice.
It is now known under the three several names of York
House, Stafford House, and Sutherland House. The
noble owner, however, dates from Sutherland House,
and this should be considered the true name of it.
St. James's Palace next claims attention. The mean
ness of its exterior appearance has Jong been a jest.
When the Czar, Peter the Great, was in England, he

56 AN ANTIQUARIAN EAMBLE
advised WilUam III. to change dweUings with his old
saUors, and give them St. James's for Greenwich. The
late king, WUliam IV., on visiting Greenwich, had a
simUar notion; for talking to an old saUor, whom he
recognised as having served with him in his youth, he
jocularly told him that he ought to think himself weU
off, for he had a much better house to live in than the
king had.
On the site of this buUding there stood originaUy an
hospital, dedicated to St. James, for fourteen leprous
women, founded before the Norman invasion. It was
rebuUt in the reign of Henry III. At the dissolution of
the reUgious houses, Henry VIII., admiring the situation,
puUed down the hospital, "and made," says Holinshed,
" a fair mansion and a park." It is the same buUding
which remains to this day. It was erected when
Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, was Grand Master of
the Masons ; in consequence, the design of the palace is,
by many persons, attributed to him. It remained
during the reigns of Elizabeth, James, and Charles I.,
a mere appendage to the palace of Whitehall. James I.
presented it to his luckless and eldest son. Prince
Henry, who resided in it tiU his death, in 1612, in a
manner which has never been satisfactorily explained,
but which there is every reason to suppose was by slow
poison. It is hard to imagine what dangerous secrets
there were between the king, Carr, Earl of Somerset,
and Sir Thomas Overbury, unless they had relation to
this prince's death, or another crime— the dark shadow
of which hangs upon the memory of those personages.
In the reign of Charles I., Mary di Medicis, his

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 57
mother-in-law, and queen-mother of France, resided for
a period of three years in St. James's Palace. She was
invited over in 1638, by her daughter the queen, that
she might be safe from the machinations of Richelieu.
She was no favom-ite with the people of London, and on
the day of her arrival, as she was proceeding to the
palace, a tumult took place, in which three persons were
killed. The Earl of Holland, who was then Lord-
Lieutenant of Middlesex, gave orders that a guard of a
hundred musqueteers of the militia should turn out for
her protection, but the men replied that they might
have better things to do than to wait upon a foreigner.
They went, however, and brought the queen in safety to
St. James's. Waller wrote a complimentary poem to
her upon landing. She enjoyed a considerable pension
while in England: it is said in the Notes to WaUer's
Poems, Edinburgh edition of 1777, to have amounted to
3000/. a month. Parliament, in 1641, petitioned for
her removal out of the kingdom; and the Earl of
Arundel was ordered to attend her to Cologne. The
sum of 10,000/. was voted as a provision for her
jom'ney. Charles I., as we learn from Whitelock, was brought
to this palace from Windsor by the army preparatory to
his trial, and here he passed the last three days of his
melancholy life. After the restoration, Charles II. took
a great fancy to this palace. He refurnished and redecoT
rated it, and made various improvements and alterations
in the park, which will be hereafter noticed.
"James II.," says Pennant, "when the Prince of
Orange had approached in force near the capital, sent a

58 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
most necessitated invitation to that prince to take his
lodgings in St. Jaines's. The prince accepted it, but at
the same time intimated that he could brook no neigh
bour at WhitehaU. The poor Queen, Mary D'Este, took
her departure in an open wherry with her infant child,
and was rowed across the Thames at midnight to Lam
beth, amid the drenching of a most pitUess storm. On
her landing she remained crouched for an hour under
the waU of St. Mary's Church, awaiting the coach that
was to convey her to Gravesend."
The infant, afterwards so weU known as the Pretender,
was born in the Palace of St. James, in the room, caUed
in Pennant's time, the Old Bed-chamber, and used as an
anti-chamber to the levee-room. A foolish story was
long current about this child — that he was not the son
of the Queen, but that, her infant having been stiU-born,
the chUd of some underling of the palace, or of some
poor person in the neighbourhood, was brought into the
royal bed in a warming-pan. This absurdity has long
lost its last believer.
In the reign of WUliam III., St. James's was fitted up
as a residence for the Princess Anne and her hiisband
Prince George of Denmark. On her accession, it became
the constant residence of the Court, Whitehall Palace
having been burned down in 1695. Every successive
sovereign has continued to inhabit it, with the sole excep
tion of her present Majesty, who prefers the Palace at
Pimlico. Here, however, are invariably held all the
levees and drawing-rooms.
An interesting anecdote of the first arrival of George
II. in his Palace of St. James, is related in the recently

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 59
pubUshed correspondence of Horace Walpole. Sir
Robert often complained to him in Latin — for the
minister spoke no German, and the king no EngUsh —
that the Hanoverians in his train were so venal and
rapacious ; to which His Majesty at once replied by giving
an instance of the venality and rapacity of English ser
vants, always on the look-out for vaUs. " This is a
strange country," said the king; "the first morning
after my arrival at St. James's, I looked out of the
window, and saw a park with walks, a canal, &c., which
they told me were mine. The next day Lord Chetwynd,
the ranger of my park, sent me a fine brace of carp out
of my canal ; and I was told I must give five guineas to
Lord Chetwynd's servant for bringing me my own carp,-
out of my own canal, in my own park."
The principal entrance to the Palace is through a lofty
gate-house, on the PaU MaU side, which opens on a small
quadrangular court, with a piazza on the right. Visitors
are admitted here in the absence of the sovereign, on the
payment of a gratuity to the attendant. The first room
they reach is the guard-room, which is a gallery formed
into an armoury. In this room the Yeomen of the
Guard attend on state occasions. Passing through
various rooms which require no particular notice, the
visitor reaches the State Apartments, which look towards
the Park.
A fire broke out in the palace on the 21st of
June,, 1809, which did damage to the amount of nearly
one hundred thousand pounds, and destroyed the whole
of the east wing of the inner court yard.
The state apartments were fitted up in the most ele-

60 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
gant manner by order of George IV., in 1824. They
consist of a suite of three rooms, the innermost being the
presence-chamber, and the other two drawing-rooms. In
the first drawing-room are pictures of Tom-nay and Lisle,
towns memorable in the annals of former wars, and a
portrait of George II. in his robes. In the second are
two sea-pieces, representing the victories of Howe and
Nelson, and also a portrait of George III.
The presence-chamber is by far the most magnificent
of the suite, and contains the throne, surmounted by a
rich canopy of crimson velvet, trimmed with broad gold
lace, and embroidered with a star and crown in gold.
This room also contains two large pictures, representing
the battles of Vittoria and Waterloo.
Behind the presence-chamber is the Queen's closet,
where her Majesty gives audience to her ministers.
When the Courts were held at St. James's Palace in
the reign of George III., it was customary for the Mar^
shalmen to attend the nobility for a christmas-box, and
to send in a ticket with their names. The following is
a copy of one, used early in the late King's reign, pre
served in -a curious and interesting collection of similar
things presented to the British Museum by Lady
Banks. "HIS MAJESTY'S
Six Marshall's Men,
who attend the gates at St. James's Palace to regulate and call up
the coaches and servants, and conduct the chairs, &c. ;
viz.,
Roh. Lee. Thos. King.
Hen. Mackinder. Will. Shipman.
Rich. Franklin. Rob. Smith.
The first tickets were without the royal arms before

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 61
the marriage, and the latter number of marshalmen
amounted to eight. This custom was discontinued in
1815, in consequence of the great disgust expressed at
it by foreigners, at the time of the reception of the royal
and imperial visitors in 1814.
Before proceeding down PaU Mall, we must turn into
St, James's Square, that square around which Richard
Savage and Samuel Johnson, ere their names became
eminent in English Uterature, once paced the live-long
night, when they had no money to procure a night's
lodging, Johnson himself mentioned the circumstance
to Sir Joshua Reynolds, and added, that he and his com
panion were not at all depressed by their situation, but
in high spirits, and brimful of patriotism ; and as they
traversed the solitary square, inveighed against the
minister, (Walpole,) and resolved they would stand by
their country.
Conduct, after all, is fate. Johnson emerged from this
obscurity, not by his superior talent, for Savage had that
within him which was never properly brought out, but
by his prudence and his perseverance, and his art in
gaining friends, and keeping them. Savage, with even
more genius, sank only the deeper into the slough of
despond and ruin. He, too, could make friends, but he
could not keep them, and was alike a prodigal of his
time, his money, and his health. Many were the nights
and the days, too, that he passed in the streets. When
he* was employed upon his tragedy of "Sir Thomas
Overbury," " he was," says Johnson, " often without lodg
ings and often without meat, nor had he any other con
veniences for study than the fields or the streets aUowed

62 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
him. There he used to waUc and form his speeches, and
afterwards step into a shop, beg for a few moments the
use of the pen and ink, and write down what he had
composed upon paper which he had picked up by acci
dent," The sad unhappy records of literature have no
distress deeper than this.
It appears by Godfrey's print, after a drawing made
by HoUar, probably in the reign of Charles I,, that a
stone conduit stood on or near the spot now occupied by
the equestrian bronze statue of King WUUam III,, exe
cuted by Bacon, in the centre of the square, and that
the whole of PaU MaU was then clear of houses from the
vUlage of Charing to St, James's Palace,
Some persons of rank must have resided in that spa
cious mansion on the south side of King Street, for many
years known as Nerot's Hotel, now No, 19, The pre
mises are old, certainly of the time of King Charles II.,
as it is evident, by a large heavy carved staircase, the
fashion of that time, the pannels of which are adorned
with nine historical pictures of ApoUo and Daphne, &c.,
very Ul done, and now much defaced. The house cannot
easUy be overlooked, as it has twenty-four windows in
front. Almack's, so weU known for the brilliant balls which
gather together aU the combined nobUity and beauty of
Great Britain, was designed by Robert MUne, the archi
tect of Blackfriars Bridge.
St. James's Square is buUt on the site of St, James's
Fields, and the surrounding streets were named after
King Charles II. and his royal brother the Duke of
York, afterwards James II.— viz.. King Street, Charles

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 63
Street, Duke Street, and York Street. This last was
the first street in London that was paved for foot pas
sengers. It appears by the newspapers, published during the
reign of King WiUiam III, that fireworks then were the
amusement for the people, and that Ulumination lamps
were not at that time in use.
The foUowing extracts are from " The Flying Post,"
"The Post Boy," and "The Post Man," the most
fashionable papers of the day : —
ST. JAMES'S SQUARE.
" Yesterday being the day of thanksgiving appointed
by the States-General for the peace. His ExceUency the
Dutch ambassador made a very noble bonfire before his
house in St, James's Square, consisting of about 140
pitch barrels placed perpendicularly on seven scaffolds,
during which the trumpets sounded, and two hogsheads
of wine were kept continually running amongst the com
mon people."— See No. 388 of " The Post Man," 1697.
" November 14, 1695. Last night His Majesty came
to supper at the Earl of Romney's, in St. James's Square ;
between seven and eight o'clock the fire-works were fired,
which were as magnificent as any that ever were seen in
England. Th^e were several pyramids and figures with
the king's crown in the middle, &c., the particulars where
of, for want of room, I cannot here relate.
" The King's Guards encompassed the square, and
there was such a concourse of people, that never the like
was seen, and they had untiled several houses to make
room for the spectators." — ^See No. 81 of " The Postman."

64 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
" Thursday, December 2, 1697. Thursday being ap
pointed for the day of Thanksgiving, the same was
ushered in with ringing of beUs ; the king went to the
Chapel Royal, where, &c., and at night we had bonfires
and illuminations. The fine fire-works in St. James's
Square were lighted after this manner. About twelve
o'clock, the Foot Guards lined the avenues ; the rockets
and all things being fixed on the rails the day before :
a little after six, the king, attended by his g-uards, came
to the Earl of Romney's house, from whence soon after
a signal was given, by firing a rocket for the fire-works to
go off, which were immediately lighted ; the perform
ance was extraordinary fine, and much applauded ; the
same continued somewhat better than half an hour, and
there were divers sorts of fire-works ; some had the
king's name, others the arms of England ; in a word,
they were very curious. There was a man and a woman
unfortunately kUled, and divers others hurt by the faUing
down of sticks. About half an hour after. His Majesty
went to St. James's, there being a very fine ball." — See
No. 403 of the "Post Boy."
" The same evening, (Thursday, December 2,) His
Majesty went to the Earl of Romney's house in St,
James's Square, and saw the fire-works, which were let
off between six and seven. The streets*were all illumi-
minated, and particularly at a peruke-maker's in Russell
Court : there was a prodigious candle, of sixteen pounds'
weight, set up in the window, with two others, of twelve
pounds' weight, on each side it, and on a table before the
door were twelve candles of one pound each, at which
sat several gentlemen drinking His Majesty's health, with

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 65
all the demonstration of zeal and affection imaginable,"
—See "The Postman" for December 4, 1697,
" Yesterday, (Monday, May 1 6,) in the afternoon.
Count TaUard, the French Ambassador, made his public
entry. The Earl Marshal's men came first, then followed
the Earl of Macclesfield's footmen, after them twenty of
the Ambassador's footmen, in red Uveries with gold lace ;
then came two of the Ambassador's gentlemen and six
pages on horseback; next came two heralds before His
Majesty's coach, in which was His Excellency the Am
bassador, the Earl of Macclesfield, and some others of
quaUty ; after them came three of His Royal Highness
the Prince of Denmark's coaches, and next three of the
Ambassador's coaches, the first of them very rich, and
drawn by eight horses ; then followed His Grace the Duke
of Norfolk's coach, with about forty-seven more, drawn by
six horses each. There was a splendid entertainment pre
pared for His Excellency at Ossulston House, in St. James's
Square."— See "The Flying Post" for May 17, 1698,
"About 10 o'clock at night, (His Majesty) being
accompanied by the Right Honourable the Earls of Port
land and Selkfrk, Lord Lexington, Lord Overkirk, &c.,
from Holland, besides such of the nobility, officers, &c.,
who met him on the road, he came through the city with
a strong party of the Guards, two officers riding on each
side close to the coach ; there being illuminations all over
the City, with great crowds of people, loud acclamations,
and there were two pyramids of candles, and an arch
before the Bank of England, and the king's cipher and
crown at his Grace the Duke of Bedford's. His Majesty
went by the Horse Guards, through the Parks, and
VOL, I. P

66 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
about 11, arrived at Kensington, where that night the
Court was crowded with persons of quaUty, but much
more yesterday,"— See the " Flying Post" for Monday,
Dec, 5th, 1698,
It appears by Sutton NichoU's print of St, James's
Square, pubUshed in 1 720, that there was then a foun
tain in the centre, which played to about the height of
fifteen feet ; that there was a pleasure-boat on the water,
and that numerous posts were placed at a smaU distance
from the houses all round the square.
It is said that Admiral Boscowen, who Hved in the
house now occupied by Lord Falmouth, was the first
person who had cannons fixed into the earth as posts.
In 1684, the Duchess of Ormond died at her house
in St. James's Square. From the "Post Boy," No. 411,
published in 1698, it appears that this house was taken
for the Count de TaUard, the French Ambassador, The
rent paid by the Count was no less than 600/, per annum
— an enormous sum, even for a house in St, James's
Square, at that period.
In 1708, the foUowing noblemen resided in 'the Square,
viz., the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Northumberland,
the Duke of Ormond, Lord Pembroke, Lord Radnor,
Lord Torrington, Lord Kent, and Lord Ossulston. Some
of these houses in this year let for 500/. per annum. In
1 724, the Earl of Sunderland, the Duke of Kent, and Lord
Bathurst resided in the Square.
On the 24th May, 1738 (4th of June, New Style),
Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales was de-
Uvered of the late King George III., at Norfolk House,
St. James's Square. The room is remaining in which

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 67
the princess was confined. The-state bed in which the
birth took place is yet preserved by the Duke of
Norfolk at Worksop. The young prince was privately
baptized on the same day. On the 14th of March in the
foUowing year, the Princess of Wales, who stUl resided in
Norfolk House, was delivered of another prince, who, on
the 11th of AprU, was baptized by the names of Edward
Augustus. He afterwards became Duke of York.
Next to Norfolk House is the official town residence of
the Bishops of London, which was rebuUt about 1819 or
1820. In the house at the north-west corner of this square,
formerly belonging to Lord EUenborough, the chief-jus
tice, the celebrated Roxburgh library was sold in the
year 1812.
The house next to this on the western side from the
Dowager Countess of Beauchamp's, was the residence of
the late Lord Amherst whUst commander-in-chief
The house two doors beyond it, in the direction of
King Street, deserves to be particularly recorded. It
was from the balcony in the front of this mansion, that,
on the night of Tuesday, the 20th June, 1815, George
the Fourth, then Prince Regent, announced to the popu
lace the news of the battle of Waterloo, and displayed
the eagles and trophies which had just arrived. It was
then in the occupation of Mrs. Boehm, and the Prince
was honouring one of her parties with his presence at
the moment the despatches were received.
The next house was once the property of Lady
Francis, the widow of Sir Philip Francis, to whom the
P 2

68 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
letters of Junius have been attributed. Lady Francis
lent this house to the unfortunate Queen Caroline in the
month of August, 1820, and ft was from thence that
Her Majesty proceeded every day in state to the House
of Peers during the progress of the attempted biU of
" Pains and Penalties."
The house now occupied by the Naval and MiUtary
Club, wUl long be memorable as the residence of
the most unpopular minister that ever had power in
England — the Marquis of Londonderry, or, as he is
generaUy called. Lord Oastlereagh, whose very name,
even now, after nearly twenty years have passed over
his untimely grave, excites feeUngs the very reverse of
charitable or humane, and who is more extensively
remembered by the cruel aUiteration of Lord Byron than
by his title without the epithet — " Carotid-artery-cutting
Castlereagh." Those who have sprung up to manhood
since that minister was in the zenith of his power have
some difficulty in comprehending the extraordinary ven
geance with which his memory has been pursued. In
his case the grave does not, to use the affecting words of
Washington Irving, " bury every error, cover every
defect, extinguish every resentment." Thousands look
down upon it without feeling "a compunctious throb
that they have warred against the memory of the poor
handftU of earth that moulders within it." The old
maxim, " De mortuis nil nisi bonum," is not aUowed
to apply to him; and many a foul word and bitter
invective is excited when his career and deeds are
spoken of His body after the commission of the fatal

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 69
act, on the 12th of August, 1822, was removed
by night from his seat at Crayford, in Kent, to his
house in St. James's Square, the coroner's jury hav
ing previously returned their verdict of temporary in
sanity, and every day until the funeral, crowds assembled
in front of the house, and gave vent to their bad feelings
in hisses. The body lay in state in an apartment on the
ground floor, called the yellow room, which had been
used as a sort of waiting-room, where many hundreds of
persons visited it. On the morning of the funeral, the
crowd was very great in the square, but there was no
disturbance, and no unseemly exhibition of any kind.
When the procession reached Westminster Abbey the
case was very different. " At the moment when the
body was removed from the hearse," says an eye-witness,
who wrote in the Morning Chronicle, " a loud and general
shout of exultation escaped from the people. That swell
ing shout of triumph, for such it was, was but too dis
tinctly heard in the body of the church, and must have
fallen heavUy on the hearts of those assembled there.
The body was quickly borne into the Abbey, amid the
waving of hats and the hisses and groans of thousands."
A curious circumstance was afterwards stated. On
the Friday preceding his death, the day on which he
complained to his physician that all his ideas were con
fused, he was observed to be sauntering along St. James's
Square and PaU MaU. Pie was pointed out to a gentle
man who had never seen him before, who, feeling some
ciu'iosity about a man who had wielded in his hand the
destinies of Eiu'ope, foUowed him for a considerable dis-

.70 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
tance. He proceeded up St, James's Street to Picca
diUy, and to the great astonishment of his observer,
plunged amid a crowd of people that surrounded the
coaches at the White Horse CeUar, where making up to a
Jew boy who had a tray of cheap penknives for sale, he
bargained with him for a white-handled one, of which
the price was a shUUng, He put it hastily into his waist
coat pocket, threw down the shiUing, and walked away.
The gentleman mentioned the circumstance on the same
evening as a mark of eccentricity in so distinguished a
man, and thought no more of it untU he read in the
newspapers a few days afterwards, that the Ul-fated mini
ster had committed self-murder with a simUar instru
ment. None of the servants had ever seen the knife
before, and none of them knew where he had procured
it. We now return again into PaU MaU, and recommenc e
our walk from St, James's Palace towards Charing Cross,
This noble street, which bids fair in a short time to con
tain nothing but club-houses, or club-palaces as they might
be caUed, was in the reign of Queen Elizabeth a country
road, bounded by a waU on the south towards the Park,
and on the north by a row of trees, aU beyond it for
miles being inclosed fields, intersected only by the two
great roads, now PiccadiUy and Oxford Street, but then
caUed the roads to Reading and to Oxford, It remained
nearly in the same state untU the time of Charles II., as
appears by Faithorne's plan, in which there is a double
row of trees to the north, amounting to forty-two in
number. There must, however, have been some houses

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 71
in it in the reign of James II., for the "London Gazette"
of the 23rd March, 1685, contains the foUowing adver
tisement relative to a runaway slave : —
" A tannymore, (tawnymoor,) with short bushy hair.
Very well shaped, in a grey livery, lined with yeUow,
about seventeen or eighteen years of age, with a silver
collar about his neck, with these directions. Captain
George Hastings' boy, Brigadier in the King's Horse
Guards. Whoever brings him to the Sugar-loaf, in the
PaU-MaU, shaU have 40.?. reward."
In the foUowing year, the learned Dr. Sydenham re
sided at his house in PaU MaU, near the " Pestle and
Mortar," Marlborough House was buUt in the year 1709, from
a design by Sir Christopher Wren, as a national com
pliment to the great Dnke of Marlborough, It cost
40,000Z, The third Duke of Marlborough added an
upper story, and improved the ground floor, which origi
naUy wanted the state-room. After the death of the
Princess Charlotte, in 1817, this house became the resi
dence of Prince Leopold, now King of the Belgians, It
was, on the decease of His late Majesty WUliam IV,,
granted for the use of the Queen Dowager Adelaide, who
now resides in it.
The rambler through the streets wiU remark the
various magnificent edifices which have arisen within late
years on the south side of PaU MaU, The first from the
Palace is the Oxford and Cambridge Club, buUt in 1838,
from the designs of Sir Robert and Mr, Sidney Smirke,
The number of members was originaUy limited to seven

72 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
hundred and fifty, but has lately been enlarged to one
thousand. The admission money is twenty guineas, and
the annual subscription six.
The next are the two great political clubs, the Carlton
and the Reform. The first was buUt from the design of
Sir Robert Smirke. The number of members is about
one thousand ; the entrance money ten guineas, and the
annual subscription the same.
The Reform Club is perhaps the finest as regards archi
tecture, and the most splendid as regards size, of the
two. The architect was Mr. Barry. The number of
members is limited to one thousand, exclusive of the
members of either House of Parliament and foreigners of
distinction. The entrance money is twenty guineas, and
the annual subscription five.
The foUowing additional details of this superb edifice,
are abridged from an able notice of the architect's
designs, selected by the Club in December, 1837; and
reported in the "Civil Engineer and Architect's Journal,"
No. 4, January, 1838. "The competing architects were
Mr. Sidney Smirke, Mr. Blore, Mr. Cockerell, and Mr.
Barry. The instructions were to produce a Club-house
which should surpass all others in size and magnificence ;
one which should combine aU the attractions of other
Clubs, such as baths of various kinds, biUiard-rooms,
smoking-rooms, with the ordinary accommodations, be
sides the additional novelty of private chambers, or
dormitories. The site extends from the spot formerly
occupied by the temporary National GaUery, (the resi
dence of the late Sir Walter Stirling,) on one side of the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 73
temporary Reform Club-house, over the vacant plot of
ground on the other side. This extent gives a frontage
towards PaU MaU, of about 135 feet. 'The Athenseum,'
in Pall MaU, occupies a space of 76 feet ; the frontage
of ' the Travellers' ' is 74 feet ; and that of ' the Conser
vative,' or ' Carlton Club,' 90 feet : the PaU MaU front of
the new Club is, therefore, nearly equal to that of the
' Athenaeum' and ' Travellers" together, and one-third
longer than the ' Carlton.' The introduction of chambers
above the ordinary rooms of the new Club-house, renders
the elevation, also, about a third higher than its neighbours.
The ground is rented of the Commissioners of Woods
and Forests; and it. is computed that the revenue of the
chambers, calculated to yield from 1500/. to 2000/., wUl
cover aU expenses of ground-rent, taxes, rates, &c.
" The preference of Mr. Barry's design was nearly una
nimous. Independent of other advantages, his plans
entered into much fuller detaUs, and conveyed a much
clearer impression of aU the various compartments, as
weU as of the whole building, than those of his compe
titors. He furnished, besides the ordinary plans, sketches
of the more important rooms, in which was indicated the
proposed mode of decoration. A similar advantage was
possessed by Mr. Barry's plans of the Houses of Parha-
ment. In that instance, too, they were the most nume
rous and complete.
" In the exterior, Mr. Barry has produced an elevation
in harmony with his own elegant TraveUers' Club-house,
and its neighbour, the Athenaeum ; and, though, design
ing an edifice nearly twice as large as either, he has

74 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
succeeded in not detracting from their importance, and
in preserving the superior grandeur of the Reform
Club-house. We fear he found ft necessary to leave ' the
Conservative' to its chances.
" Mr. Barry has taken as a model, the celebrated Palazzo
di Farnese, at Rome; designed by that mighty genius
Michael Angelo Buonarotti, during the Pontificate of
Paul the Third, a.d. 1545, and buUt by Antonio San-
gallo. It will be remembered that the Farnese Palace
contains the gaUery of Annibale Caracci. Even with aU
the necessary modifications, Mr. Barry's elevation, fronting
PaU MaU, bears a very strong resemblance to the Farnese
Palace ; and the adoption of so splendid a model affords
evidence of our architect's exceUent judgment, and
correct appropriation of a design most suitable to the
purpose. " The new Club-house, though consisting of six floors
from the basement, presents, in Pall MaU, a frontage of
only three from the ground : the basement and mezzanine
below ground, and the chambers in the roof, being
unseen. The entrance, like that of ' the TraveUers',' is
several steps above the ground, and in the centre of the
buUding in Pall Mall. There are four windows on each
side of the entrance ; nine windows equi-distant on the
first floor, and the same number on the second. The
pediments surmounting the windows on the first floor in
PaU MaU, are supported by Corinthian columns* ; and
* " These are alterations from the original design. We have been
favoured with an inspection of the drawings, which are elaborately
beautiful."

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 75
at the back, looking over Carlton Gardens, by Ionic
pilasters, rusticated. A balustrade, somewhat resembling
that of ' the Travellers',' rises from the ground. The
whole design is one of massive grandeur.
" Our admiration increases with the examination of the
arrangement of the interior details. An Italian court,
(34%^- feet by 29 feet,) beginning at the base, is placed in
the centre of the quadrangle, and is partly occupied by
the grand saloon, already described. The principal
chamber, on the ground floor, is the coffee-room, sup
ported by Ionic columns, and having a view into the
gardens. The drawing-room, above the coffee-room, is
supported by Corinthian columns, and so constructed
that it may be divided into two or three rooms ; and the
library is simUarly supported. There are, in aU, upwards
of 134 apartments in this magnificent buUding."
The TraveUer's Club is a smaUer buUding, between the
Reform Club and the Athenseum. It was buUt in 1832,
by Mr. Barry. The entrance money is thirty guineas,
and the annual subscription ten.
The Athenseum is a very chaste and elegant edifice,
erected in 1829 from the designs of Mr. Decimus Burton.
It was instituted for the association of individuals known
for their scientific or literary attainments, artists of emin
ence in any class of the fine arts, and noblemen and
gentlemen distinguished as liberal patrons of Uterature,
science, and art. The number of members is very con
siderable; the entrance-money twenty guineas, and the
annual subscription six.
Directly opposite stands another elegant edifice, the

76 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
United Service Club, buUt from the designs of Mr.
Nash. Defoe, writing in the year 1703, gives the foUowing
account of Pall MaU, and of the various coffee-houses in
St. James's Street, the forerunners of the clubs of the
present day. "I am lodged," says he, "in the street
called Pall MaU, the ordinary residence of all strangers,
because of its vicinity to the Queen's palace, the park,
the parliament-house, the theatres, and the chocolate and
coffee-houses, where the best company frequent. If you
would know our manner of Uving, 'tis thus : — we rise by
nine, and those that frequent great men's levees find
entertainment at them till eleven, or, as in HoUand,
go to tea-tables; about twelve, the beau monde assem
bles in several coffee or chocolate-houses; the best of
which are the Cocoa Tree and White's chocolate-houses,
St. James's, the Smyrna, Mrs. Rochford's, and the British
coffee-houses ; and all these so near one another, that in
less than an hour you see the company of them aU. We
are carried to these places in chairs (or sedans,) which
are here very cheap, a guinea a- week, or a shiUing per
hour ; and your chairmen serve you for porters to run on
errands, as your gondolas do at Venice."
In the reign of WiUiam III, the Duke of Schomberg
buUt a house in PaU MaU. Schomberg House was that
large front with uniform projections, part of which is
now inhabfted by Messrs. Payne and Foss, the booksel
lers. The Duke, an old man of eighty-two, was kiUed at
the battle of the Boyne, by an accidental shot, it was
thought, from one of his own men. The house was next

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 77
inhabited by his son. It was afterwards divided into
three private residences by Astley the painter, who
rented the whole of it. He reserved the centre for his
own use, and let the two sides. Many years afterwards
it was inhabited by another painter, Robert Bowyer, who
collected a large gaUery of engravings and paintings by
the best masters, to illustrate the history of England,
which he caUed the Historic GaUery. The exhibition
proved anything but successful, and Mr. Bowyer applied
to Parliament for assistance. An [Act was then passed
empowering him to dispose of the coUection by public
lottery, which ultimately took place in the year 1807.
Carlton House, the name of which is preserved in the
fine range of buUdings overlooking the park, was piUled
down in 1827. It belonged originaUy to the Earl of
Burlington, and was in 1 732 inhabited by the Countess
Dowager Burlington. At that time there were houses
standing before it, where the screen designed by Holland
was afterwards erected.
George IV., when Prince of Wales, permitted Mr.
Sheridan to reside in the brick house on the west. Tliis
palace, as is well known, was the grand resort of the
Ulustrious Whigs, when the Prince of Wales took that
side in politics. Many a saturnalia did those waUs wit
ness in the days of his hot youth. It was from hence
that the Princess, his daughter, stole away on the 12th
of July, 1814, in a hackney-coach, to the house of her
mother in Connaught Place. She was brought back the
same night by the Lord ChanceUor, as may be seen,
together with many other interesting particulars of the

78 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
same event, in the graphic sketches of another Lord
ChanceUor, recently pubUshed in the ."Edinburgh Re
view," and since coUected into volumes.
In 1824, the palace had a narrow escape from destruc
tion. On the 8th of June a fire broke out in one of the
sitting rooms, which was not extinguished before the
room was destroyed, with several very valuable pictures
which it contained.
One record of the many convivial nights psssed in this
palace has been preserved in Lockhart's "Life of Sir
Walter Scott," which is interesting, not so much on ac
count of the giver of the feast as of the receiver : —
" Towards midnight, the Prince caUed for ' a bumper,'
with aU the honours, to ' the Author of Waverley,' and
looked significantly, as he was charging his own glass, to
Scott. Scott seemed somewhat puzzled for a moment,
but instantly recovering himself and fiUing his glass to
the brim, said, 'Yom" Royal Highness looks as if you
thought I had some claim to the honours of this toast.
I have no such pretensions, but shaU take good care that
the real Simon Pure hears of the high compUment that
has now been paid him.' He then drank off his claret,
and joined with a stentorian voice in the cheering, which
the Prince himself timed. But before the company could
resume their seats. His Royal Highness exclaimed, ' Ano
ther of the same, if you please, to ' the author of Marmion,'
— and now, Walter, my man, I have checkmated you for
ance! The second bumper was followed by cheers still
more prolonged : and Scott then rose and retured thanks
in a short address, which struck the Lord Chief Commis-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 79
sioner as ' alike grave and graceful.' This story has been
circulated in a very perverted shape. I now give it on the
authority of my venerated friend, who was — ^unlike, per
haps, some others of the company at that hour, — able to
hear accurately, and content to see single. He adds,
that having occasion the day after to caU on the Duke
of York, his Royal Highness said to him, 'Upon my
word, Adam, my brother went rather too near the wind
about Waverley; but nobody could have turned the
thing more prettily than Walter Scott did, and upon the
whole I never had better fun.'
" The Regent, as was his custom with those he most
delighted to honour, uniformly addressed the poet, even
at their first dinner, by his Christian name, ' Walter.'
" Before he left town he again dined at Carlton House,
when the party was a stUl smaUer one than before, and
the merriment, ^if possible, stiU more free. That nothing
might be wanting, the Prince sang several capital songs
in the course of that evening ; as witness the lines in
Sultan Serendib: —
' I love a prince will bid the bottle pass,
Exchanging with his subjects glance and glass.
In fitting time can, gayest of the gay.
Keep up the jest and mingle in the lay.
Such Monarchs best our freeborn humour suit.
But despots must be stately, stern, and mute.'
" Before he returned to Edinburgh, on the 22nd of
May, the Regent sent him a gold snuff-box, set in briUiants,
with a medaUion of His Royal Highness's head on the
Ud, ' as a testimony,' (writes Mr. Adam, in transmitting
it,) ' of the high opinion His Royal Highness entertains
of your genius and merit.' "

80 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Among various reminiscences of Pall Mall, it should
be stated that the British Institute for the encouragement
of British art was established in it in the year 1805.
The gallery was first opened in February, 1806.
No. 100, PaU Mall, puUed down in 1838, and on the
site of which now stands the Reform Club House, was
long known as the National Gallery. It formerly
belonged to John Julius Angerstein, Esq., who had a
large collection of very valuable paintings. After his
death his pictures were purchased by the Government for
57,000/, to form the nucleus of a national gallery.
These, with others successively purchased, or received by
bequest or otherwise from wealthy individuals, were
exhibited in this house until the year 1837, when they
were transferred to the building erected to receive them
in Trafalgar Square. The pictures, it is true, are better
lodged now, but these things are "ordered better in
France." Gainsborough, the artist, died in PaU MaU on the 2nd
of August, 1788.
The first gas lamp was set up in PaU MaU in the year
1809. During the riots of 1795, the mob broke the state-
carriage of King George III. to pieces, opposfte to
St. James's Palace, Pall MaU. The king had been
foUowed by the crowd from the House of Peers, and
several stones were thrown at him on the way ; on his
arrival in Pall MaU he aUghted from the state-carriage,
and was driven in a private coach to Buckingham House,
or the Queen's Palace, as ft was then caUed. The mob,
seeing the king drive away, gathered round the empty

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 81
carriage with shouts of "No war! no war! — give us
bread — bread," stripped it of its ornaments, and scat
tered the fragments in the streets. The military were
caUed out to disperse the crowd; and in the evening,
both Houses of Parliament voted addresses to the king
expressive of their attachment to his person and govern
ment, and a proclamation was issued offering a reward
of 1000/. for the discovery of the perpetrators of the
outrage. The foUowing tradesmen of Pall MaU issued their
tokens : —
"Richard Pinck at y^ Hercules (reverse) Pillars in
Palmal 1667 his halfepenny."
" Rogerman Mathew at y° 2 (reverse) in the Old Pell-
mell 67 His Halfepenny tit.-vt."
"Adams Richard at the (reverse) Tavern in PaU-
MaU." There was the sign of the "Crown" in Pall Mall in
1686, All these tokens prove that Pall Mall was closely
inhabited soon after the Restoration,
In 1689, ^'The Lady Griffin" lived in PaU Mall, who
was seized for having treasonable letters put into false
bottoms of two large brandy bottles, in the first year of
his Majesty's reign.
Before houses were numbered, it was a common prac
tice with tradesmen not much known, when they adver
tised, to mention the colour of their next neighbour's
door, balcony, or lamp, of which custom the following
copy of a hand-biU will present a curious instance : —
" Next to the Golden Door, opposite Great Suffolk Street, near
VOL, I. G

82 AN ANTIQUAEIAN RAMBLE
Pall Mall, at the Barber's Pole, llveth a certain person, Robert
Barker, who having found out an excellent method for sweating or
fluxing of wiggs; his prices are 2s. 6d. for each bob, and 3s. for
every tye luigg and pig-tail, ready money.'"
From Gay's exceUent " Trivia" we learn the state of
Pall MaU in the early part of the eighteenth century. It
would seem to have been the grand mart of perfumers,
and to have been, besides, very ill-paved: —
" 0 bear me to the paths of fair Pell Mell;
Safe are thy pavements, grateful is thy smell :
At distance rolls along the gilded coach,
Nor sturdy carmen on thy walks encroach.
No lets would bar thy ways, were chairs deny'd
The soft support of laziness and pride;
Shops breathe perfumes, thro' sashes ribbons glow.
The mutual arms of ladies and the beau :
Yet still even here, when rains the passage hide.
Oft the loose stone spurts up a muddy tide,
Beneath the careless foot."
What annoyances our ancestors must have suffered in
the streets — bad pavements — no Ughts at night — and the
perfect freedom of dustmen and chimney-sweeps to make
as much noise as they pleased! The only street regula
tion in Gay's time, appears to have been that which con
fined the chairmen to the middle of the road, aUuded to
in the above lines, and in the foUowing from the same
poem:— " Let not the chairman with assuming stride.
Press near the wall and rudely thrust thy side ;
The laws have set him bounds ; his servile feet
Should ne'er encroach where posts defend the street.
Yet who the footman's arrogance can quell.
Whose flambeau gilds the sashes of Pell Mell, •
When in long rank a train of torches flame.
To light the midnight visits of the dame?

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 83
These chairs have long since vanished from the streets
of London. Twenty years ago one might occasionaUy and
by some rare chance be seen, in some remotely fashionable
street, bearing some olden dowager to or froifi a visit;
but now the last has vanished from the metropolis. In
country towns they are sometimes to be seen even yet;
and so near the metropolis as Greenwich, we remember,
not a year ago, to have been startled on a dark night by
the sudden apparition of two of them, preceded each by
its torch-bearer. We thought time had gone back again
in its course a whole century, and we foUowed the relics
tUl they reached their destination, half expecting to see a
dame with patches, a pyramidical head-dress, a huge
fan, a curly lap-dog, and a hoop petticoat descend from
each. It was in the " Star and Garter" Tavern in Pall Mall,
that the celebrated duel was fought between WiUiam, the
fifth Lord Byron, great uncle of the poet, and Mr. Cha-
worth. The dispute arose on the question of which of
the two had the most game on his estates. They were
both so infuriated with wine that they insisted upon
fighting immediately; and retiring into an adjoining
room, iUumined only by the feeble ray of one taUow
candle, they fought with swords across the dining-table.
Mr. Chaworth, although the more expert swordsman,
received a mortal wound, and shortly afterwards expired.
Lord Byron was tried before his peers in Westminster
HaU, and found guilty of manslaughter ; but claiming the
benefit of the statute of Edward VI., he was discharged
upon payment of his fees. The next Lord Byron, as is
well known, conceived a youthful passion for the grand-
G 2

84 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
daughter of this Mr. Chaworth, and has immortalized her
in his poetry under her name of " Mary.'
The fine flight of steps, on the summft of which stands
the York Column, now invite us to stroU into the park,
before we continue om' course towards Charing Cross and
WhitehaU. The York Column was erected between the
years 1830 and 1833, from the design of Mr. B. Wyatt.
The money for its erection was raised by public subscrip
tion. It is 124 feet high, the same height as the celebrated
column of Trajan at Rome. The pedestal is formed of
Aberdeen, and the shaft of Peterhead granite. The
bronze statue of the Duke of York is 14 feet high,
and was executed by Westmacott. The cost of raising
it from the ground to its elevated position, including
the fixing and removal of the scaffold, was upwards of
400/. Having entered the park, we proceed at once to
Buckingham Palace, the town residence of Her Majesty.
The original house was built in 1703, upon the site of
the second Arlington House, the residence of the Earl of
Arling-ton, and buUt for him after he was burnt out of
Arlington House, PiccadiUy, as already stated. There is
a rare print of this house, ill done, said to have been the
production of Sutton Nichols. It has the initials S. N.
Of this there is a copy, in a worse manner, by John
Seago. By the plan drawn of the parish of St. George,
Hanover Square, now hanging in the vestry of the
church, it appears that about five-sixths of the house,
caUed " Tart HaU," in which .the Lord Viscount Stafford
resided, was in St. George's parish, as the boundary line

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 85
cuts off about a sixth part of the south end of it, which
is in the adjoining parish.
This house stood opposite to the park, on the ground
between Buckingham House and the commencement of
the houses in James Street; the site of Stafford Row
was part of its garden. It was built in the reign of
Charles I., for Alathea, Countess of Arundel. Its next
possessor, her second son. Lord Stafford, fell a victim to
the evidence of Titus Gates, and was beheaded in 1680.
During the popular frenzy, excited by the supposed
j)opish plot, the Arundel marbles in this house were
buried in the garden, lest the bigotted mob should have
mistaken them for popish saints, and destroyed them.
Buckingham House was purchased of Lord Arlington
by the weU-known John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham,
who, having obtained from the Crown an additional lease
of land, including a portion of the domains of Tart Hall,
puUed down the old house in the year 1703, and erected
a new and more magnificent one. This nobleman, first
known as the Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Marquis and
Duke of Normanby, and then as the Duke of Buck
ingham, was a great man and a small litterateur in his
day. In the latter character he is enshrined in the
pages of Johnson's "Lives of the Poets," although he
might, if merit or genius were the passport, have been
very properly left out. He enjoyed, in his day, the
reputation of a Mohock, and was a very gallant soldier.
He married a daughter of King Charles II., and died in
1720. He left Buckingham House to his son, Sir
Charles Herbert Sheffield, of whom it was purchased by
the Crown, In the year 1775, it was granted as a resi-

86 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
dence for the queen, in lieu of Somerset House, which
was then puUed down. It afterwards went by the name
of the Queen's House, and was the constant residence of
Queen Charlotte. George IV., in the year 1825, em
ployed Mr. Nash, the architect, to make various altera
tions, and he was employed upon it untU his death.
Mr. Blore was then entrusted with the work, and it may
now be caUed altogether a new edifice, for it does not
preserve one sign of its former shape or proportions.
There was a dome upon it, erected by one of the archi
tects, which did not please the taste of George IV,, and
it was taken down.
It was not in a habitable state during the reign of
WiUiam IV., but Her present Majesty took up her abode
in it soon after her accession. The principal front forms
three sides of a square, enclosing a space about 250 feet
in diameter. In the centre is a portico, the lower part
in the Doric, and the upper in the Corinthian order
of architecture. The garden front is a simple elevation
of the Corinthian order, resting on a rustic Ionic base
ment, from whence there is a broad terrace leading to
the garden. The interior is fitted up with the magnifi
cence befitting the abode of a Queen of England. On
the ground-floor are Her Majesty's private rooms and the
library. The grand staircase is of fine white marble,
and leads to the throne-room and drawing-rooms. The
former is ornamented with basso-relievos, by Bailey,
from designs by Stothard. The picture-gallery is a mag
nificent apartment, extending to a length of 164 feet,
being 28 broad. But this palace is not spacious enough
for Her Majesty and the Royal Family. Accordingly,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 87
the sum of 150,000/. was voted last session to make such
alterations in it, or additions to it, as may be desirable.
The principal approach to the palace is formed by an
arch of white marble, built in imitation of the arch of
Constantino at Rome, and is adorned with sculpture by
Westmacott and Bailey. Considered per se, it is a
beautiful building, but standing where it does, it has
anything but a good effect. On the top of this arch is
hoisted the standard of England whenever the Queen is
present. The silk of this magnificent flag is said to have
cost 140/.
The immediate back of the palace, which even now is
not a very creditable neighbourhood, was, in the days of
Ben. Jonson, the abode of the very refuse of London.
In his play of the " Alchymist," he says " GaUants, men
and women, and of aU sorts, tag-rag and bob-tail, have
been seen to flock here in threaves, these ten weeks, as to
a second Hoxton or PimUco." In another part of the
same play he says, " Besides other gaUants, oyster-
women, sailors' wives, tobacco-men — another Pimlico."
It is in contemplation at present to form almost a new
town between this and Westminster Abbey, and remove
the dirty, narrow, iU-paved, and almost pestilential
streets of old Westminster — the grand nest of thieves
and beggars, and fuU of pawn-shops, old clothes ware
houses, and gin-palaces. The immense number of the
latter is a feature in this part of the town, — and indeed,
through London generaUy it may be remarked, that the
poorer the neighbourhood, the more magnificent the gin-
palaces. Perhaps the one is the result of the other.
AU traveUers remark upon the drunkenness of the people

88 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
of London : in no other city in Europe is it common to
see a drunken woman, even of the lowest and most
degraded class. But how common is it in this capital!
The writer of a treatise, caUed the " London and Country
Brewer," pubUshed in 1738, when the drunkenness of
the lower orders was as prevalent as it is now, gives the
following explanation of the origin of the vice amongst
us. The passage, bating the opinion at the commence
ment, is valuable and curious, as affording an insight into
the manners of the popiUace more than a century ago; and
the price of liquors at that time. He says, page 17,
" Our drunkenness as a national vice takes its date from
the restoration of Charles II., or a few years after. Joy,
mirth, good cheer, and good liquor, were the solace of the
common people in 1661. They rejoiced that after a
long usurpation the king should enjoy his own again;
that after a long series of blood and confusion, and a
civil war in the bowels of the country, the people should
enjoy a public peace and tranquUlity; that trade should
flom-ish, and plenty succeed misery and want. These
were the several reasons of their joy ; and very merry,
and very mad, and very drunken the people were ; and
grew more and more so every day. As to the materials,
beer and ale Avere considerable articles; they went a
great way in the work at first, but were far from being
sufficient, and then strong waters, which had not been
long in use, came into play. The occasion was this : —
In the Dutch wars it had been observed that the captain
of the IloUander's men-of-war, Avhen they were about to
engage with our ships, usually set a hogshead of brandy
abroach afore the mast, and bid the men drink sustick

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 89
that they might fight lustich; and our poor seamen felt
the force of the brandy to their cost. We were not long
behind them ; but suddenly after the war, we began to
abound in strong-water shops. These were a sort of
petty distUlers who made up those compound waters
from such mixed and confused trash as they could get to
work from. Such as damaged and eager or sour wines — •
wines that had taken salt water in at sea; lees and
bottoms ; also damaged sugars and molasses, grounds of
cyder, &c. For till then there was very little distilling
known in England, but for physical uses. The spirits
were bad, but they mixed them with such additions as
they could get to make them palatable ; and gave them
the name of cordial waters. The strong-water shops
made a vast show of glasses, labelled like the gallipot
Latin of the apothecaries, with innumerable hard names,
to set them off. Here, as at a fountain, the good Avines
ftirnished their little fireside cupboards with a needful
bottle for a cherishing cup ; and hence, as from whole
sale dealers, all the little chandlers' shops, not in London
and its adjacent parts only, but over great part of
England, were furnished for sale; and to the personal
knowledge of the writer hereof, and of thousands still
Uving, not the chandlers' shops only, but just as is now
complained of the barber chirurgeon, were furnished with
the same, and sold it by retail to the poor people who
came under their operations. The nanies of some of the
liquors were, — aqua vitse, anniseed Avater; aqua mira-
bUis, cinnamon water; aqua salis, clove water; aqua
dulcis, plague Avater; cholick water, AA^iich in short was
Geneva. These, and many more; but aqua vitse and

90 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
anniseed water Avere the favourite Uquors, and in time
the latter prevaUed; the quantity drank was prodigious.
It was the Geneva of these times ; it was cried about the
streets, of which the memory of Anniseed Robin wiU be
a never dying testimony; who was so weU known in
LeadenhaU and the Stock Market for his Uquor and his
broad brimmed hat, that it became proverbial when we
saw a man's hat hanging about his ears, to say, he looks
like Anniseed Robin. The bum-boats continue to this
day crying a dram of the bottle in the river among the
ships, — this was the dram drinking age. A sudden stop
was put to it, for the French outdid them exceedingly;
and pouring in their brandy at a cheap rate, the physicians
recommended it, and people took their drams in plain
brandy. The best was sold for twopence the quartern;
the poor could have a large dram for a halfpenny, and
the fellows that cried about the streets carried with them
little double dram-cups, which being held on one side was a
penny, and on the other side a halfpenny. This held on
for several years, and the custom-house books AvUl show
the prodigious consumption, tUl the late Revolution, when
a war with France breaking out, brandy rose from two
pence to sixpence the quartern, and from thence to such
a scarcity that no good brandy was to be got at any
price. The poor Avent from the dram-cup to the ale
house pint, to their great regret as Avell as expense."
Twenty years ago, Westminster, and especially that
part of it behind the Bird Cage Walk, abounded in old-
fashioned quaint pubUc-houses. One of them, known by
the sign of the " Cock," was so very ancient that it was
behoved, ft is not known exactly upon what authority, that

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 91
the Avorkmen employed in building Westminster Abbey
received their wages there. Perhaps they were the
workmen who built Henry the Seventh's Chapel, And
even on the latter supposition, the pot-house would have
been a very old one. But this, along with many others,
has disappeared; the "Cock," — the last of its race,
having been puUed down sometime in 1835 or 1836.
Gin shops, two stories higher than their neighbours, with
their lamps almost as large as hackney-coaches, their
expensive plate-glass and mahogany, have taken their
place. The beggar emerging from his filthy hovel, where
there is neither fire nor light, can, if he has but three
half-pence in his hand, drink his cheerful glass of slow
poison, in a sort of saloon more magnificently fitted up
than the palaces of noblemen or even kings, four hundred
years ago ; warm himself by a patent stove, and expose
his rags in the glare of the brilliant gas, and be served
by dainty-looking damsels who show him all manner of
civility. This part of Westminster was always the resort of
low characters. TothiU Fields was, in the days of
James I., the abode of bull-baiters, ragamuffins, beggars,
and thieves, and is now the haunt of the three latter.
In the time of the Plague, there was a lane which went
by the name of Thieving Lane, from the character of its
inhabitants, and close to it was built the Plague Hos
pital. In the accounts of the parish of St. Margaret's
for the Plague year, there are the foUowing entries : —
"Paid to a chirurgeon that was brought out of London
to search the bodie of a Frenchman that died in Thiev
ing Lane, five shiUings." " Paid to Arthur Oondall for

92 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
380 short deals, and other timber, to build the Plague
House in Tuthill Fields, as by his biU appeares,
31/. 19s. id." " Paid att severall times for printed bills
of ' Lord have mercie upon us,' to sett upon ye visitted
houses, ten shUlings." " Paid unto John Walker, the
beadle, by the appointment of the vestrie for his paines
in shutting upp houses that were visitted, and for setting
padlocks, biUs, and redd + crosses on the doores, thirty
shiUings." In the year 1703, there was a famous bear-garden in
TothiU Fields. The following advertisement appeared
in the pubUc papers of the 10th of AprU in that year : —
" At William Well's Bear Garden in Tuttle Fields, this present
Monday, the 10th of April, will be a green bull baited, and twenty
doggs fight for a collar, and that dogg that runs farthest and fairest
wins the collar; with other diversions of bull-baiting and bear-
baiting. Beginning at two of the clock."
But these matters have led us from the Park, and
re-entering it at the Buckingham Gate, we will make the
tour of it, and re-ascend the stairs by the Duke of York's
PiUar, uutU Ave again reach Pall Mall. The Park, ori
ginally a sAvamp, was first enclosed and drained by
Henry VIII., after the suppression of the hospital of
St. James. It received no great improvement during
the reign of his successors, or indeed until after the
Restoration. A characteristic incident occurred in it
under Charles I. Very early after his marriage he took
offence at the presumption, impertinence, and extrava
gance of the numerous train of servants that had accom
panied his Queen from France ; and in Ellis's coUection
of " Original Letters illustrative of English History," Ave

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 93
learn the manner in Avhich at last he was urged to drive
them all back to their OAvn country. The confessor, and
the other priests in her train, were very importunate to
have the chapel at St. James's finished for the perform
ance of mass, but found the King very slow. RencAV-
ing their entreaties, the King at last told them that, if
the Queen's closet were not large enough for the purpose,
they might say mass in the great chamber ; if that would
not do, they might go into the garden ; and if that were
not large enough, they might take the Park. A letter,
dated July 5th, 1626, states that, on the Monday pre
vious, the King, on entering the Queen's apartment,
found a number of Frenchmen, her servants, irreverently
dancing and curvetting in her presence, upon which he
took her by the hand, led her away, and locked the
doors after him. In a short time afterwards. Lord
Conway was deputed with a message to the French
bishop, with the other clergy, and the servants of the
Queen. He led them out into the Park, when he told
them, one and all, that the King's pleasure Avas, that they
should immediately pack up their effects and leave the
country. The French bishop said he Avas in the nature
of an ambassador, and Avould not do so unless he had
orders from his own sovereign; but Lord Conway told
him the French King had no authority in England, and
that if they did not all go by fair means, it Avould be
necessary to see what force could accomplish. When
the women learned this, they began to howl and cry, and
the Queen in her anger broke some of the windows Avith
her fists. Charles, however, was inexorable, and they
were finally put on board ship and sent away — Avith

94 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
presents, however, among them to the amount of 22,000/.,
to soothe their anger.
Soon after his restoration, Charles II. planted the
avenues of the Park, made a canal, and an aviary for
rare birds, which gave name to the present Bird-cage
Walk. " Here," says CoUey Cibber, " Charles was often
seen amid crowds of spectators, feeding his ducks, and
playing with his dogs, affable even with the meanest -of
his subjects." We see none of this royal affabUity in
the present day, except in some countries of the Con
tinent. The King of HoUand is not ashamed to walk
the streets and look in at the print-shops ; the King of
Prussia, untU old age in a manner disabled him, was
almost as accessible as a shopkeeper; and the King of
the Belgians has been known, as well as the King of
HoUand, to stop his carriage that a lame beggar might
have no difficulty in throwing in his petition. Such is
the respect to rank, that a king in important matters
may be the greatest tyrant that ever lived, yet be beloved
if he wiU converse politely with a costermonger. How
ever, the populace of England and France at the present
day are too rude, and their monarchs not in a condition
— the one from age and sex, and the other from political
circumstances — ^to be too profuse in their affabiUty, and
too accessible to strangers. Charles II., with a view of
providing a snug sinecure for M. St. Evremond, had
Duck Island in the Park formed into a government.
St. Evremond was the first and last governor of Duck
Island, and drew his salary accordingly. At least, it is
beUeved by Pennant, Pegge, and others, that he was the
only governor, though the fact is not certain. Charles

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 95
also formed the Mall on the other side. It was then a
smooth hollow walk, half a mile in length, bordered by
a wooden screen, and bounded at the end by an iron
hoop. Succeeding monarchs allowed the public the pri-
vUege of walking here ; and in the reign of William III.,
the narrow passage still existing was opened through
Spring Gardens for their accommodation. The canal at
that time was two thousand eight hundred feet long and
one hundred broad.
Evelyn, in his " Memoirs," observes — " In his time, the
Park was stored with numerous flocks of fowle. There were
also deer of several countries — white, spotted like leo
pards; antelopes, as elk, red deer, roebucks, staggs,
Guinea grates, Arabian sheep," &c. In his "Silva,"
book iii., he says — "And therefore I did much prefer
the walk of elms at St. James's Parle, as it lately grew
branchy, intermingling their reverend tresses, before the
present trimming them up so high, especially since, I
fear, the remedy comes too late to save their decay,
(could it have been avoided) if the amputations of such
overgrown parts as have been cut off, should not rather
accelerate it by exposing their large and many wounds
to the injuries of the weather, which will endanger the
rotting of them, beyond aU that can be apply'd by tar,
or otherwise, to protect them.
" I do rather conceive their infirmities to proceed from
what has not long since been abated of their large spread
ing branches, to accommodate with the MaU, as any one
may conjecture, by the great impression which the wet
has already made in those incurable scars, that being
now multiplied must needs the sooner imp are them, the

96 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
roots having likewise infinitely suffered by many dis
turbances about them. In aU events, this walk might
have enjoyed its goodly canopy, Avith aU their branchy fur
niture for some ages to come, since 'tis hardly one that first
they were planted ; but this defect is providentially and
nobly suppUed by their successors of the lime-trees, which
Avill sooner accomplish their perfection by taking away the
chesnut-trees, which wiU else do them prejudice. But it
is now (and never till noAv) that those Avalks and ranks
of trees, and other royal amenities, are sure to prosper,
whUst they are entirely under the care and culture of the
most industrious and knowing Mr. Wise, to whom, and
to his partner, Mr. London, I not only acknowledge
myself particularly obliged, but the Avhole nation for
what they have contributed to the sweetest, useful, and
most innocent diversions of life, gardens and planta
tions." By the following observation, also in Evelyn's " Silva,"
it appears these fine trees were about to be destroyed.
" That living gaUery of ' aged trees' was once pro
posed to the late Council of State (as they called it,) to
be cut down and sold, that with the rest of His Majesty's
houses already demolished and marked out for destruc
tion, his trees might likewise undergo the same destiny,
and no footsteps of monarchy remain unviolated."
" The Board of Green Cloth has issued Avarrants for
clearing St. James's Park of the shoe-cleaners and aU
vagrants, and sending them to the House of Correction."
—See " The Daily Post" for October 31, 1728.
From the numerous dramatic authors who wrote at the
time of Charles II., it appears that Hyde Park Avas then

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 97
the scene of gaiety for wit and beauty, especially for
those who rode round the ring.
In the reign of Charles II., as may be seen in
Faithorne's Plan, the north half of the Parade in the
front of the Horse Guards, was occupied by a square
inclosure, surrounded by twenty-one trees, with one tree
in the centre. The same plan displays a broad running
water, Avith a bridge of two arches in the middle. It
commenced on the site of the house where the gunner
resides, and went immediately across the lower part of
the parade to the site of the north end of Duke Street.
In this plan there is no canal in the middle of the park,
nor any appearance of the Decoy, so that it must have
been taken very early after the Restoration. The Decoy,
arranged by Charles II., took up nearly half the ground
south of the canal, opposite to where Storey's Gate now
stands. It was while Charles was taking his usual daUy walk
in the MaU, that he first received intimation of the pre
tended Popish plot, which, supported by the perjury of
Titus Gates, was the means of bringing so many worthy
men to the scaffold, and of exciting such a spirit of fana
ticism in the nation. " On the 12th of August, 1678,"
says Hume, " one Kirby, a chemist, accosted the king,
as he was walking in the park, — ' Sir,' said he, ' keep
within the company ; your enemies have a design upon
your life, and you may be shot in this very walk.' Being
asked the reason of these strange speeches, he said that
two men, called Grove and Pickering, had engaged to
shoot the king, and Sir George Wakeman, the Queen's
physician, to poison him. This intelligence, he added,
VOL. 1. H

98 AN ANTIQUAEIAN RAMBLE
had been communicated to him by Dr. Tongue, whom, if
permftted, he would introduce to his majesty." The
results of this conversation are but too weU known, and
form altogether one of the most remarkable passages of
English history.
Aubrey, the credulous, relates in his " MisceUanies," the
foUowing anecdote of another incident which occurred in
the park.
" Avise Evans had a fungous nose, and said it was
revealed to him, that the king's hand would cure him ;
and at the first coming of King Charles II. into St.
James's Park, he kissed the king's hand, and rubbed
his nose with it, which disturbed the king, but cured
him." When the various improvements were made in the
park under Charles's directions, the courtly Waller, always
ready to flatter power, whether it existed in the person
of a king or a protector, a Charles or an OUver Crom
well, wrote a poem, in which he compared the park
in its new shape to the Garden of Eden ; he then con
tinued, —
" For future shade, young trees upon the banks
Of the new stream appear in even ranks ;
The voice of Orpheus or Amphion's hand.
In better order could not make them stand.
May they- increase as fast, and spread their boughs.
As the high fame of their great owner grows !
May he live long enough to see them all
Dark shadows cast, and as his palace tall !"
In another passage of the same poem he thus compli
ments the king upon his skiU in playing at the ball in
the MaU, Avhich he first laid out for the purpose ;— •

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 99
" Here a well-polished mall gives us the joy,
To see our prince his matchless force employ;
His manly posture and his graceful mien.
Vigour and youth in all his motions seen ;
His shape so lovely, and his limbs so strong.
Confirm our hopes, we shall obey him long.
No sooner has he touched the flying ball,
But 'tis already more than half the mall ;
And such a fury from his arm has got,
As from a smoking culverin it were shot."
The epithet " well pohshed mall" in these lines applies
probably to its appearance; afterwards it Avas covered
with white cockle-shells, at the express command of the
king, who appointed a person to the office of " Cockle
Strewer." Of the various buUdings that look into the park we
shall speak in due order as we pass in front of them by
way of Charing Cross and WhitehaU. There is one,
however, which wiU not be noticed in that route, and
which is too remarkable to be left unmentioned. Duke
Street Chapel, with a flight of steps leading to the park,
formed originally a wing of the mansion of the notorious
Judge Jeffries. The house was built by Jeffries, and
James II., as a mark of especial favour, allowed him to
make an entry to the park by the steps alluded to. The
son of Jeffries inhabited it for a short time, and it was
afterwards purchased by the Government, and converted
into an office for the Commissioners of the Admiralty,
where they remained till the present Admiralty was pre
pared for them. The house was then divided into several
compartments ; one Aving became the chapel, as already
stated, and upon or very near the site of the other,
H 2

100 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
stands the handsome buUding recently erected, and
knoAvn as Her Majesty's State Paper Office.
Storey's Gate, the entrance to the park from Great
George Street, is, properly. Storehouse Gate. There
was formerly a storehouse for the Ordnance here, where
fireworks were prepared and deposited upon occasions of
public rejoicings.
Proceeding up the Bird Cage Walk, the phUosophic
rambler wiU be pleased to be reminded that there is a
gate and a flight of steps leading to Queen Square,
where Jeremy Bentham lived and died.
Near the site of the New Barracks, named after the
Duke of WelUngton, there was, untU the year 1770, a
large piece of water, distinct from the canal which runs
through the middle, known by the name of Rosamond's
Pond. It may be seen in the map printed with "En-
tick's Survey of London in 1756." The foUowing ex
tract from the " Public Advertiser," for the 7th of July,
1 770, wUl show the time when this pond was fiUed up.
" A gate is opened into Petty France for the convey-
eince of bringing soil in to fiU Rosamond's Pond and the
upper part of the canal. When this is finished, a new
lawn wiU appear in front of the Queen's Palace, all those
trees cut down which obstruct it, and then the whole
park wUl be new modeUed, and fresh orders stuck up to
prevent disobedience."
We now enter the enclosm*e, with its pleasant walks,
two covered islands, and tortuous canal. Famous as the
park was for its ducks in the days of Charles II., the
coUection of birds that float upon the waters now is far
more valuable and remarkable, and comprises water-fowl

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 101
of every common, and of many rare, species. They
belong to the Ornithological Society; and boards dis
played upon various trees in the park request the pubUc
to take care that no hm-t is offered them. The notice is
unnecessary, and almost insulting to the people. Nobody
eA^er thinks of molesting them ; and it is a pleasant
sight, AA'hich may be witnessed at all hours of the day in
fine weather, to see the numerous children and young
people, laden with biscuits and manchets, and aU busUy
engaged in feeding the swans, the geese, the ducks, the
teal, and the widgeons, that flock around them. Even
the timid sparrows grow bold, and come to be fed, scores
at a time ; by their superior agiUty and their power
of flight, very often making prize of larger pieces in
tended for the geese, but which the latter, by their
unwieldiness, were unable to pounce upon in time.
The enclosure of the park was laid out in its present
agreeable form in the years 1827 and 1828. Before
that period, the canal was straight from one end to the
other, paraUel with the MaU and Bird Cage Walk, as
constructed in the time of Charles II. On the return of
peace in 1814, and in celebration of that event, a grand
national festival was instituted in the Parks on the 1st
of August. In Hyde Park there was a mimic naval
fight on the Serpentine, and a fair which lasted several
days; in the Green Park was erected a splendid edifice,
caUed "The Temple of Concord;" and in St. James's
Park a buUding which outlasted all the rest. A Chinese
bridge of wood was thrown over the canal, upon the
centre of which was constructed a taU pagoda, decorated
with piUars and boxes for the exhibition of fireworks;

102 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
and Chinese lanterns were distributed in various parts
of the Bird Cage Walk and the Mall. Unfortunately,
the pagoda took fire about midnight, and in the confu
sion two persons lost their lives. The bridge remained
for many years, until the improvements were made in
1827, and was a great convenience to the public,
especiaUy to persons who wished to cross from Queen
Square to St. James's Street and that neighbourhood.
They have now to make the tour of half the park.
Gas lamps, which had been making slow progress in
various parts of London since the year 1809, were first
introduced into St. James's Park in 1822. At that
time, the gates were strictly closed at ten o'clock, so that
no person could pass through. The unusual Ught, and
its total uselessness to the excluded public, gave occasion
to the following verses, by an unknown author, which
are said to have been stuck up on one or on several trees
in the MaU : — " The trees iu the park
• Are illumined with gas,
But after it's dark.
No creature can pass.
Ye sensible wights
Who govern our fates,
Extinguish your lights;
Or open your gates."
The two pieces of cannon on the parade, in front of
the Horse Guards, are placed there as trophies of British
valour. That on the north side, a long piece of ord
nance ornamented Avith various Oriental devices, was
taken from the enemy at the battle of Alexandria ; it is
mounted on an English carriage. That on the other

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 103
side is a mortar on a large dragon, very finely executed.
It was employed by the French in bombarding Cadiz,
and abandoned by them, under Marshal Soult, in their
retreat after the battle of Salamanca. It was presented
to the Prince Regent by the Spanish nation, and placed
in the park in 1816. The illustrious marshal, on his
visit to this country upon the occasion of Her Majesty's
coronation, is said to have made some good-humoured
remark when he saw it. Whether he discovered himself
what it was, or whether some good-natured friend
pointed it out to him, is not known.
Having now made the tour of the pai'k, we re-enter
PaU MaU where we quitted it, and passing the fine Club
House of the United Service, proceed by Cockspur
Street to PaU Mall East, and then, before reaching
Charing Cross, to all that old and interesting district
which lies to the north-west of it, including Leicester
Square and its adjoining streets.
In Cockspur Street, in the open space near the Hay
market, where the road branches off into Pall Mall East,
stands the equestrian statue of George III. It was
erected in 1837, and is the Avork of Mr. Wyatt. Its
cost was upwards of 4000 Z. Critics object to the cocked-
hat and tie-wig in the royal figure ; but some ages hence
these abused parts will be the most valuable in the
whole statue. It may very reasonably be asked why a
plain English gentleman should be represented in the
dress of a Roman tribune 1 Let the man appear, even in
a statue, in his habit as he lived, and, Avhatever Ave may
say, posterity will be grateful to us. We should Uke to
know exactly the ordinary Avalking-dress of Csesar or

104 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Brutus, and how they wore their hair; and we should not
complain if they had cocked-hats or periwigs, if we knew
them to be exact copies of nature.
In Pall MaU East, corner of Suffolk Street, are two
societies for the encouragement of British art: the
Society of British Artists, established in 1828, for the
annual exhibition and sale of the works of living sculptors
and painters; and the Society of Painters in Water
Colom'S, estabUshed twenty years antecedently, for the
exhibition of the works of members and associates only.
The Society of British Artists seceded from the Royal
Academy in 1823, and their institution dates from the
21st of May. in that year. Their gaUery consists of a
suite of six rooms, and their exhibition is open during
the months of April, May, June, and July. The Society
of Painters in Water Colours formerly exhibited at the
Egyptian HaU, PiccadiUy.
The Royal CoUege of Physicians is that large buUd
ing looking towards St. Martin's Church, and was built
in 1823, from the designs of Sir Robert Smirke. The
institution owes its origin to the celebrated Dr. Linacre,
Physician to Henry VIII., and successor in that office to
the equally well-known Dr. Butts, who is enshrined in
the page of Shakspeare. At the intercession of Wolsey,
who approved highly of the project, the King granted a
charter, dated the 23rd of September, 1518, by which
thirty members of the medical profession were incorpo
rated into a perpetual coUege. The charter provided
that no man, although a graduate in physic, might with
out Ucence under the seal of the coUege, practise physic
in or within seven mUes of London, under the penalty of

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 105
five pounds for every month they practise. The corpo
ration had power also to administer oaths, fine and
imprison offenders, and to search apothecaries' shops to
see whether the drugs were properly compounded. Dr.
Linacre gave up his house in Knight Rider's Street,
Doctors' Commons, for the use of the corporation, from
Avhence they removed to Amen Corner, in a house built
expressly for them by Dr. Harvey, the discoverer of the
circulation of the blood. They remained here till . they
were burned out by the great fire of London, in 1666,
when they erected a new house for themselves, with a
fine library of medical books, in Warwick Lane. From
the latter place they removed to their present splendid
habitation in 1823. The number of FeUows, originally
thirty, was increased by Charles I. to forty, and by
James II. to eighty. The number is now unlimited.
In Suffolk Street, which now consists almost entirely
of modern houses, and has been transformed partly into
PaU MaU East, and partly into Dorset Place, formerly
resided the unhappy Miss Van Homrigh, who became
smitten with the wit and learning of a somewhat ugly and
very iU-natured man. All the world knows the story of
the attachment she formed for Dean Swift, and of the
very unhandsome and ungentlemanly manner in which
she was treated by him. She resided in Suffolk Street
with her sister and mother, who had a small indepen^
dency bequeathed to her by her husband, a Dutch mer
chant. Swift was in London upon some affairs relating
to the Irish Church, and had lodgings in Bury Street.
Being introduced to this family, he soon became intimate
with them, and generaUy left his best gown and wig

106 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
there, that he might take them home in his Avay, and
dress in proper time before he went to the House of
Lords. The young lady, who admired the mind and not
the person of the man, soon showed, as the Dean di
rected her studies, that she was far from indifferent.
The Dean was flattered at the impression he had made,
and encouraged her admiration into love. Things haA'-
ing gone so far, the young lady by her mother's advice,
made the Dean an offer of marriage, Avhich offer the
Dean declined, but without stating the reason — that he
Avas already engaged, and perhaps actually married to,
another lady, a Mrs. Johnson. To explain to her more
fully and more gracefully than he could do in any other
manner, he wrote very soon afterwards his poem of
" Cadenus and Vanessa." Cadenus, is a transposition of
Decanus, the Dean, and Vanessa, the poetical word into
Avhich he translated Van Homrigh. In this poem he
describes her character and his own. He says —
" When glittering dames
From round the purlieus of St. James
Came to pay her visits — They found
The room with volumes littered round;
Vanessa held Montaigne, and read.
While Mrs. Susan combed her head."
And he thus explains the attachment that grew up
betAveen them: —
" Cadenus many things had writ,
Vanessa much esteemed his wit.
And called for his poetic works ;
Jleantime, the boy in secret lurks.
And while the book was in her hand,
The urchin fromhis private stand

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 107
Took aim, and shot with all his strength
A dart of such prodigious length.
It pierced the feeble volume through,
And deep transfixed her bosom too.
Some lines, more moving than the rest,
Stuck to the point that pierced her breast.''
The Dean was at this time more than forty, and Miss
Van Homrigh in her twentieth year ; and though he had
no personal charms to recommend him to a lady's eyes, —
though his own, as he says, were almost bUnd with read
ing, — and though he was either married, or ought to have
been, he continued, even after his refusal, to keep up a
correspondence with her,' and increase the passion which
as a clergyman he ought never to have formed, and which
as a gentleman, if he had formed, he should have con
quered. After the death of her mother, her and her sister's
affairs being left in some, confusion, she proceeded to
Ireland, partly to avoid her mother's creditors until some
arrangement was made for their payment, and partly to
be near the Dean. For eight years the Dean kept up a
correspondence with her ; for eight years she nourished
the hope that she would one day be his wife, Avhcn in
1723 the fatal secret was disclosed to her by the Dean
himself that he was already married.
The shock Avas too much for her, and she died broken
hearted in less than a month afterwards. While her
melancholy fate Avas the common topic of conversation,
and while everybody Avas reading " Cadenus and Va
nessa," somebody remarked to Mrs. Swift, or rather to
Mrs. Johnson, for she was always knoAvn by the latter,
and never by the former name, that surely Vanessa must

108 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
have been an extraordinary woman to have inspired the
Dean to write such fine verses upon her : " That's not at
aU clear," said the lady, offended with, and yet proud of
her husband, and hurt besides in her OAvn vanity, " for
it is very weU knoAvn that the Dean could write finely
upon a broomstick." Dr. Johnson makes a very lame
apology for Swift in his " Lives of the Poets," which he
caUs an " honest apology :" that he for these eight long
years " delayed the disagreeable disclosure from time to
time, dreading the immediate burst of her distress, and
watching for a favourable moment." Mr. Leigh Hunt, in
his papers on the Streets of the Metropolis, published in
his "London Journal," in 1835, has adopted from a
writer in the " New Monthly Magazine," a mistake, by
which the character of Swift is placed unwittingly in a
light stUl more odious. Quoting some lines from " Ca
denus and Vanessa," in which Swift compares himself to
a faUing oak and her to a sapUng, and showing the foUy
of attempting to yoke them together, the writer says, it
.is a pity Swift did not make this reflection at first, when
he used to go to Suffolk Street, to change his wig and
gown, and drink coffee. The fact is, however, that SAvift
did think of it then ; that the poem was not written to
triumph over Vanessa, when the correspondence had
continued for years, as the writer imagines, but at the
very commencement of it, and to explain to her why he
refused her offer of marriage. In it he teUs her plainly,
" Cadenus, common forms apart.
In every scene had kept his heart.
Had sighed and languished, vowed and writ
For pastime, or to show his wit."

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 109
This certainly Avas candid enough, but the lady chose not
to believe it. She continued to love and admire, and he
to be flattered for years aftewards, so that he has not the
sin to answer for of having written these lines after his
deception had brought her to the grave. The remorse
he exhibited was great, and appears to have been sincere,
and when SteUa, his wife, died soon afterwards, he had
every reason to believe that his conduct to her and to
Miss Van Homrigh had also hastened her end. He
never enjoyed any real happiness afterwards.
It was at a low tavern in Suffolk Street, that some
aristocratic roysterers met together on the 30th of January,
1735, and played that frolic which gave occasion to the
story about the Calves' Head Club, and excited a riot in
the street, and great talk and commotion in the world
of politics. WEether such a club as this ever existed
appears very questionable. The anonymous author of
the " Secret History of the Calves' Head Club, or the
Republican unmasked," fooUshly attributes its origin to
Milton, and says that they met on the anniversary of the
execution of Charles I. ; that their bill of fare was always
a large dish of calves' heads, dressed various ways, by
which they represented Charles I. and the royalists, who
had suffered in his cause. On the removal of the cloth,
they sang their anniversary anthem ; a calf's skull fiUed
with wine or other liquor was handed round, and every
man drank to the pious memory of the worthy patriots
who had voted for the death of the King. However this
may be, it now appears certain that the meeting in Suf
folk Street was not of this description; that the com
pany did not drink confusion to the race of the Stuarts,

110 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
and did not throw a bleeding calf's head out of the win
dow, as was believed at the time, and for many years
subsequently. Lord Middlesex, one of the company,
writing to Mr. Spence, gives the foUowing true version of
this affair, which created so much noise in its day. The
letter was first published in Spence's " Anecdotes."
"Whitehall, Feby. ye 9th., 1735.
" Dear Spanco, —
" I don't in the least doubt but long before this time the noise of
the riot on the 30th of January has reached you at Oxford, and
though there has been as many lies and false reports raised upon
the occasion in this good city as any reasonable man could expect,
yet I fancy even those may be improved and increased before they
come to you. Now, that you may be able to defend your friends,
(as I don't in the least doubt you have an inclination to do,) I'll
send you the matter of fact literally and truly, as it happened,
upon my honour. Eight of us happened to meet together, the 30th
of January; it might have been the 10th of June, or any other day
in the year; but the mixture of the company has convinced most
reasonable people by this time, that it was not a designed or pre
meditated aff'air. We met, then, as I told you before, by chance
upon this day, and after dinner, having drunk very plentifully,
especially some of the company, some of us, going to the window,
unluckily saw a little nasty fire made by some boys in the street,
of straw, I think it was, and immediately cried out, ' D — n it, why
shouldn't we have a fire as well as anybody else?' Up comes the
drawer. ' D — n you, you rascal, get us a bonfire !' Upon which
the imprudent puppy runs down, and without making any difficulty,
(which he might have done by a thousand excuses, and which, if he
had, in all probability some of us would have come more to our
senses,) sends for the faggots, and in an instant, behold ! a large bonfire
blazing before the door. Upon which some of us, wiser, or rather
soberer, than the rest, bethink themselves then for the first time
what day it was, and fearing the consequences a bonfire on that
day might have, proposed drinking loyal and popular healths to the
mob (out of the window), which by this time was very great, in
order to convince them that we did not intend it as a ridicule upon
that day. The healths that were drunk out of the window were

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. Ill
these, and only these, * The King, Queen, and Royal Family,' ' The
Protestant succession,' ' Liberty and property,' ' The Present Ad
ministration.' Upon which the first stone was flung, and then
began our siege; which, for the thue it lasted, was at least as
furious as that of Phillipsburgh. It was more than an hour before
wo got any assistance ; the more sober part of us, during this time,
had a fine time of it; fighting to prevent fighting, in danger of
being knocked on the head by the stones that came in at the
windows, in danger of being run through by our mad friends, who,
sword in hand, swore they would go out, though they first made
their way through our bodies. At length the justice, attended by
a strong body of guards, came and dispersed the populace. The
person who first stirred up the mob is known ; he first gave them
money, and then harangued them in a most violent manner. I
don't know if he did not fling the first stone himself. He is an
Irishman,, and a priest, and belonging to Truberti the Venetian
Envoy. This is the whole story from which so many calves' heads,
bloody napkins, and the Lord knows what, has been made. It has
been the talk of the town and the country, and small beer and
bread and cheese to my friends the garretteers in Grub Street for
these few days past. I, as well as your friends, hope to see you
soon in Town. After so much prose, I can't help ending with
a few verses.
" Oh, had I lived in merry Charles's days,
When dull the wise were called, and wit had praise ;
When deepest politics could never pass
For aught, but surer tokens of an ass ; — -
When, not the frolics of one drunken night
Could touch your honour, make your fame less bright,
Tho' mob-formed scandal raged, and Papal spite. " Middlesex."
We now proceed up the narroAv thoroughfare called
Whitcombe Street, which was formerly called Hedge
Lane, and was in the days of Charles I. what that name
implied — a lane running into the fields, and bordered by
hedges. A pleasant story relative to this street is told
by three of the writers in the " Spectator," — pleasant
enough to the reader now, but not pleasant at the time

113 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
to the parties concerned. It is said that Sir Richard
Steele, Eustace BudgeU (a relative of Addison), and
Ambrose PhUlips (the poet), aU friends of Addison, and
contributors to his paper, were coming out of a tavern,
and were about to turn into Hedge Lane, when somebody
told them that some very suspicious-looking felloAvs were
standing at the bottom, as if in wait. " Thank ye,"
exclaimed the wits; and without waiting for further
parley, each cast an alarmed glance behind him, parted
company with his fellows, and hurried away as fast as
his legs could carry him, and was soon lost from sight.
At the top of Hedge Lane, or Whitcombe Street, to
the left, is Coventry Street, so named from Coventry
House, the residence of the Lord Keeper, Coventry, and
Henry Coventry, Secretary of State, who died here in
1686; a noted gaming-house stood upon this spot at the
beginning of the seventeenth century, Mr, Garrard, in
a letter to Lord Strafford, written in 1635, speaks of " a
fair house in the fields beyond the Mouse," where there
were two bowling-greens, made to entertain bowlers and
gamesters at an expense of about 4000/, The keeper of
the place had been a servant of the Lord Chamberlain,
SackviUe, Earl of Dorset, " The latter," says Mr. Gar
rard, "much frequented the place, and bowled great
matches." Lord Clarendon also mentions the house, and
caUs it a " fair house for entertainment and gaming, with
handsome gravel walks with shade, and where there were
also an upper and lower bowling-green, whither many of
the nobUity and gentry of the best quality resorted for
exercise and recreation." Sir John SuckUng, the poet
and dramatist, was a frequenter of these gardens. Au-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 113
brey, in his " Lives of Eminent Men," says " Sir John Avas
one of the best bowlers of his time in England. He
played at cards rarely weU, and did use to practise by
himselfe a-bed, and there studyed the best Avay of
managing the cards. I remember his sister's comeing
to the Peccadillo bowling-green crying for the feare he
should lose all their portions."
There is a considerable number of gaming-houses in
the neighbourhood at the present time, so that the bad
character of the place is at least two centuries old, or
ever since it Avas built upon. A curious circumstance
relating to this street, and the bad character it bears,
was stated during a celebrated trial for felony in the
year 1839. A Jew dealer in bullion, who bought
upwards of 3000/. worth of gold-dust which had been
stolen under very extraordinary circumstances, was ad
mitted to become approver against his accomplices. The
man had two shops, one in the Strand and the other in
Coventry Street. On his cross-examination in the Cen
tral Criminal Court, he was asked whether the exposure
of his conduct had not hurt his business 1 He replied that
he had been obliged to give up his shop in the Strand, as
nobody would deal with him, but in Coventry Street his
character had not been injured.
Passing through Sydney Alley — so named from the
illustrious family of the Sydneys, Earls of Leicester, Ave
arrive in Leicester Square, where they had their town
house. It stood on the north side of the square, Avhere
the passage caUed Leicester Place has since been made.
This house was once the residence of Elizabeth, Queen of
Bohemia, daughter of James L, a kind, gentle, exem-
VOL. I. I

114 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
plary, but unhappy lady, whose memory was long popular
in England. She died here in 1661. There is a good
portraft of her at Hampton Court Palace. Pennant caUs
Leicester House the " pouting-place of princes," because
George II., when he quarreUed with his father, retired
there ; and because Frederick, Prince of Wales, his son,
did the same thing, for the very same reason. The last-
mentioned prince, father of George III., died here on the
20th of March, 1751. He had caught cold about three
weeks previously, while walking in Kew Gardens, and
increased his malady some days before he died by coming
from the House of Lords on a cold night with the win
dows of his chariot down. The Princess of Wales was
six months advanced in pregnancy at the time, but she
sat up watching by his bed-side for seven nights before
he expired. Her child was born in July, and was bap
tized by the name of CaroUne Matilda. Her eldest son
George then became Prince of Wales, and resided occa
sionaUy with his mother at Leicester House, untU his
accession to the throne. The princess continued to
occupy it untU her removal to Carlton House, when
Leicester House became the residence of private persons.
Sir Asheton Lever's fine museum was first exhibited in
it. The museum, consisting of objects of natural history,
and pronounced by Mr. Pennant to have been the most
astonishing coUection ever made by any individual, was
disposed of by lottery, and gained by a Mr. James Par
kinson, who removed it to Southwark, where it was
exhibited for some time. The coUection was finaUy
dispersed in the year 1806; the sale lasted forty days.
On the west of the sfte of this ancient buUding, aU

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 115
traces of which have disappeared, is SaviUe House.
George III, during the life-time of his father, had apart
ments in this house; and on his accession to the throne
gave them up to his brother, the Duke of York, who
inhabited them tiU a new house was buUt for him in Pall
Mall. The duke was waited upon here by the Lord
Mayor and a deputation of Aldermen, Common Council-
men, and members of the Grocer's Company, and pre
sented with two gold snuff-boxes ; the one presented by
the Grocers with the freedom of their Company, and the
other by the Lord Mayor with the freedom of the City.
SavUle House belonged at this time, not to the Royal
Family, but to the family from whom it took its name ;
and after the Duke of York left it, became the residence
of Sir George SaviUe, for many years representative in
Parliament of the county of York. Sir George, in the
memorable session of 1779, moved the first reading of the
biU, which afterwards became law, securing to the Roman
Catholics throughout the country the free exercise of their
religion in licensed chapels. This bUl was the immediate
precursor of the disgracefiU "No Popery" riots of the fol
lowing year, when the mob, under that arch-bigot and
crazy fanatic. Lord George Gordon, committed such
frightful excesses. Sir George SaviUe was not forgotten
by the rioters, who, after destroying the Catholic chapels
in various parts of the town, wreaked some of their ven
geance upon the mover of the bUl of toleration. His
house was — to use the common, but ugly phrase, sanc
tioned, however, by the lips of the Duke of WelUngton —
" completely gutted" of all its valuable furniture, books,
and paintings, of which an immense bonfire was made in
I 2

116 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the streets. Miss Linwood's exhibition of pictures in
needlework, which have been recently sold, was exhibited
in this house for nearly forty years. In the large room,
during the popular excitement previous to the passing of
the Reform BiU, the National Political Union held its
meetings. Concerts are now given there occasionaUy, and
public meetings held. The ground floor, is cUvided into
various shops.
ilr. J. T. Smith, who, for many years of his life, was
employed in collecting materials for this work, and who
was fond of learning from very old people their reminis
cences of London in their youth, had a conversation in
the year 1825 with a gentleman named Packer, then in
his eighty-seventh year, and who remembered Leicester
Fields long before the accession of George III. He said
it was a dirty place, where ragged boys assembled to
play at chuch. In the King's MeAvs adjoining was a
cistern where the horses were Avatered, behind which was
a horse-pond, where pickpockets that were caught in the
neighbourhood were taken and ducked. This old gentle
man remembered better than anything else the marriage
of the Hon. John Spencer, ancestor of the present Earl
Spencer, with ?tliss Poyntz, the splendour of which took
a great hold upon his youthful imagination. He said
they made their first visit to court (that was, to Leicester
House, to the Prince Frederick and Princess of Wales
first, before they went to the King at St. James's, as was
then commonly the practice) on a Sunday after the
morning service. The procession consisted of two car
riages and a chair. In the first carriage were the bride
groom and Lord Cowper, with three footmen behind ; in

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 117
the second, the mother and sister of the bride, also with
three footmen behind ; the bride foUoAved, in a new sedan
chair, lined Avith Avhite satin, a black page walking be
fore, and three footmen behind, all in the most superb
liveries. The diamonds Avorn by the newly married pair
were presented to Mr. Spencer by Sarah, Duchess of
Marlborough, and were worth 100,000/. The shoe-
buckles of the bridegroom were alone worth 30,000/.
Mr. Packer added to this narration, that the streets were
so thinly built upon in this neighbourhood about that
time, that when the heads of two men, who were executed
for participation in the Scottish rebellion, Avere placed on
Temple Bar, a man stood in Leicester Fields Avith a
telescope to give the boys a sight of them for a halfpenny
a-piece. The names of two of the greatest artists that England
boasts of are associated with Leicester Square. Sir
Joshua Reynolds and WiUiam Hogarth lived and died
in it. Hogarth's house was one of the two that now
form the Sabloniere Hotel ; Sir Joshua Reynolds's was on
the opposite side, the fourth house from Sydney's AUey.
We point them out thus particularly, that the young
enthusiasts in art, of Avhom there are, no doubt, hundreds,
up-springing to maturity and fame, may know exactly
Avhere to visit them, aiid have their emulation excited by
the visit. Both houses Avere the resort of the wits of
the day, especially Sir Joshua's. Johnson — the Johnson —
was his constant guest; BosweU, too, came there; and, in
his better days, the author of that sweetest of sweet
poems, " The Deserted Village." Sir Joshua died at this
house on Thursday evening, February 28, 1792, at the

lis AN ANTIQUARIAN RAJIBLE.
age of sixty-nine. On the 3rd of March his remains were
interred in the crypt of .St. Paul's.
Among other Ulustrious inhabitants of Leicester Square
was the eminent surgeon, John Hunter, who Uved next
door to Hogarth's. The square was also inhabited in
1728 by Arthur Onslow, the speaker of the House of
Commons, and by Lords North and Grey.
The Marquis of Oaermarthen, who resided in Leicester
Fields, in 1698, in the house of the Earl of Aylesbury,
gave a ball there, on the 2nd of April in that year, to
Peter the Great, then on a Aisit to this country. The
Marquis and Peter were boon companions — drani brandy
together with pepper in it — for such was Peter's whim —
and were rowed up and doAvn the Thames at aU hours
of the day and night. It does not appear whether the
Czar danced or not ; most probably he did not. for he was
very shy of shoAving off before strangers. At a grand
baU given by King WiUiam at St. James's Palace, he
would not mix Avith the company at aU, but, at his ovm
request, was put into a smaU room, where he could see
aU that passed Avithout being seen himself He was
fonder of drinking with Lord Caermarthen than of seeing
company. Upon another occasion, when staying Avith
him in Leicester Fields, he drank a pint of brandy and a
bottle of sheny before dinner, eight bottles of sack after-
Avards. and then went to the play, none the worse, at
least to outward appearance.
In the year 1677, when Leicester House stood almost
alone, there were rows of elm-trees in the court before it.
extending nearly half the Avidth of the present square.
In a newspaper caUed the " Country Journal," or " Crafts-

IX THE STREETS OP LONDON. 119
man," dated the 16th of AprU, 1737, appeai-s the fol
lowing paragraph : —
" Leicester-fields is going to be fitted up in a very elegant manner ;
a new wall and rails to be erected all round, and a bason in the
middle, after the manner of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and to be done by
a voluntary subscription of the inhabitants."
The equestrian statue of George I., which now stands
in the middle of the square, was put up shortly before
the year 1812. It originaUy stood at Canons, near
Edgeware, and was the property of James Brydges,
Duke of Chandos, whose property, after his death, was
sold by auction in 1 744. Who was the possessor of it,
between that time and the date of its erection in the
square, we have not been able to ascertain.
Nobody passing through Leicester Square can faU to
remark the shabby and dirty appearance of the place, so
unlike the other squares of London, which are generaUy
clean, handsome, and weU buUt. It has a foreign air,
too; and were it not for the trees and statue in the
middle, might weU be mistaken for the Grande Place of
some continental city. On every side rise hotels with
foreign names, ' kept by foreign landlords, and marked
Restaurant. Occasionally, a label may be seen in a win
dow Avith the inscription, " Table d'h6te k cinq heures."
The linen-drapers and other shopkeepers take especial
care to inform aU passengers that they can speak French
or German; and the cigar-shops here, or in the streets
adjoining, add to that information that their owners can
even speak Spanish and Portuguese ; and the loungers in
the square give visible, ocular, and olfactory demonstra
tion that they are not EngUshmen — their tanned skins.

120 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
long moustachios, military coats, alike give evidence of
the Frenchman, the Spaniard, the Italian and the Pole.
The jabber of their various languages give corroborative
testimony ; and the mingled fumes of garlic and tobacco,
which they all indulge in, complete the proof that this
district is a foreign colony in the heart of London.
The adjoining streets abound Avith lodging-houses, where
they all flock together. Polish exiles, Italian supernu
meraries of the opera, French figurantes of the inferior
grades, German musicians, teachers and translators of
languages, and keepers of low gaming-houses — all con
gregate here. Formerly the Spaniards were the chief
frequenters of the place, but most of them have disap
peared, and gone back to their own country. But a
vast improvement has been effected lately by the erection
of Cranbourn Street, and by other important alterations
in this neighbourhood.
This foreign appearance of Leicester Square is not of
recent growth. It seems to have been the favourite
resort of strangers and exUes ever since the place Avas
built on. Maitland, who wrote more than a hundred
years ago, describing the parish of St. Anne's, in which
it is situate, says — " The fields in these parts being but
lately converted into buildings, I have not discovered
anything of great antiquity in this parish. Many parts
of it so greatly abound with French, that it is an easy
matter for a stranger to imagine himself in France."
Gerrard Street, .the residence now of a considerable
number of artists, takes its name from Gerrard, Eari of
Macclesfield, aaIioso title is preserved in the street
adjoining. This nobleman was a warm adherent to

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 121
the cause of Charles II. when in exile; but he set
himself against the tyranny of his brothers. His Lord
ship died in 1693. Lord Mohun, the notorious duellist,
who Avas killed in that sanguinary duel, (or, more cor
rectly speaking, battle, for there Avere six combatants
altogether,) betAveen him and the Duke of Hamilton,
resided in Gerrard Street. It is related of Lady Mohun,
that she was very much displeased that the bloody corpse
of her lord should have been laid on her best bed!
This man had been engaged in many other encounters of
the same kind, either as principal or second. He and
the Earl of Warwick were tried before the Peers for
murder in the reign of William III., but were both
acquitted. The person who lost his life was one Captain
Coote : the parties were all half drunk, and fought three
on each side in the dark, in Leicester Fields. Lord
WarAvick was tried on the 28 th, and Lord Mohun on the
29th of March, 1699.
But more illustrious names than any yet mentioned
are associated with this street. Edmund Burke lived in
it in the year 1788 ; and Dryden inhabited it for many
years, with his wife the Lady Elizabeth HoAvard. Here,
too, the poet died, in the year 1701. During the April
of that year, he had been troubled with gout and
erysipelas in his leg, but recovering a little in a few
days, he Avent out to take a turn in the garden behind
his house, when he was seized with a violent pain under
the ball of the great toe of his right foot. The pain was
so great that he was unable to stand; and being carried
into the house by his servants, a surgeon Avas sent for,
Avho found a small black spot on the place affected.

122 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Dryden immediately foretold his death; he caUed his
son Charles to him, told him that mortification had com
menced, and that the doctors would probably attempt to
cut off his leg, but that, upon his filial duty, he was not
to suffer him to be dismembered. It is difficult to say
Avhether his life might not have been spared, if he had
consented to the operation; but his resolution was
unbending not to suffer it, and he died on the 1st of
May. A disgraceful scene occurred in Gerrard Street at his
funeral. On the Sunday following his death, a grand
procession of eighteen mourning-coaches were ready to
move towards Westminster Abbey, when a party of
aristocratic mohocks and disturbers of the peace, headed
by Lord Jeffries, the son of the infamous judge of the
same name, passed through the streets, intoxicated,
although it was morning, and bent upon mischief
Jeffries asked whose funeral it was, and being told, he
protested vehemently, that so great a man as Dryden
should not be buried in that shabby manner, and that he
woiUd, with the leave of Lady Elizabeth, have the
honour of his interment, and further, bestow the sum of
1000/. to erect a monument in the Abbey. With
several of his companions, he rushed up stairs to her
room, where the widow lay sick in bed, and repeated
what he had said in the street. Lady Elizabeth refused
her consent, upon which the heartless rake fell upon his
knees, and swore he would never move till she aUowed
him to conduct the funeral. The poor lady, weakened
with grief and iUness, was so frightened by this roysterer
and his croAv, that she fainted away, upon which Jeffries

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 123
rushed down stairs, and pretending that he had her
authority, stopped the funeral, and ordered the body to
be carried to an undertaker's in Cheapside, and there left
tiU further orders. In the meantime, Westminster Abbey
was lighted up, and the bishop in attendance to perform
the last rites. He waited for some hours, and then
retired. Jeffries, when waited upon by the undertaker
of Cheapside, said he knew nothing of the matter, — that
if he had done anything, he had done it in a drunken
frolic, and would have no more to do with it. In con
sequence of this unfeeling and ruffianly conduct, the
body was not buried until three weeks afterwards.
Immediately after the funeral, Mr. Charles Dryden sent
a chaUenge to the feUow who had so outraged every
feeling of decency and humanity, but received no answer.
He sent messengers who were always denied, and finally
watched for him in the streets, to chastise him. Jeffries,
who to his other evil qualities added that of cowardice,
kept carefuUy out of his way for three years, when Mr.
Charles Dryden was unfortunately drowned in the
Thames near Windsor.
Dryden's house was No. 43, and his study was the
front parlour. It still exists, but appears to have
been more than once renovated since the time of the
poet. It was in one of the streets leading from Leicester
Square, that Theodore GardeUe, a Frenchman, a limner
and enameller, committed a murder, which, until the
more recent crime of James Greenacre, was considered
the most atrocious and revolting that had ever been

124 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
committed in England; always excepting those perpe-<
trated by the " Burkers." Like Greenacre, he cut up the
body of his victim, and disposed of it piece by piece to
avoid detection. He was considered a clever artist, and
enamelled the head of Voltaire, with whom he was
acquainted, on a snuff-box, which afterAvards sold for a
great price. He was executed in the Hay-market, in
1760, and his body Avas afterAvards hung in chains on
Hounslow Heath.
But the reminiscences of this neighbourhood are more
glorious than this. To the names of a Hogarth, a-
Dryden, and a Reynolds, a Burke and a Hunter, Avho
inhabited it, must be added the stiU more illustrious
name of Isaac Newton. The house is still existing
in Leicester Place to which he removed after he had
been chosen president of the Royal Society, and is an
Italian restaurateur's, and knoAvn as the " Hotel Newton."
About thirty-five or forty years ago, the house was taken
by a Frenchman, who built an observatory on the top of
it, fitted it up Avith various mathematical instruments
Avhich he had bought at the second-hand shops, and
exhibited them to the public as the identical instruments
used by the great phUosopher, before Avhose time " Nature
and Nature's laws lay hid in night." The man reaUzed
a considerable sum before his false pretences were ex
posed. Passing from Leicester Square we went unti? recently
through Cranbourn AUey, the great bonnet mart of Lon
don. Those Avho are ignorant of the toAvn may be amused
to learn that at every shop door in this alley, Avhile it

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 125
existed, a young Avoman of decent appearance was sta
tioned all day long, on the Avatch for customers, whom it
Avas her business to entice or to drag into the shop, and
force to purchase, Avhether they- Avould or no. These young
women were known b)"^ the name of " She Barkers," to
distinguish them from the " He Barkers," who Avere sta
tioned at the second-hand clothes-shops, and who acted
the same annoying part towards the men. Woe used
to betide the woman of the middle classes who passed
through Cranbourn AUey Avith an unfashionable bonnet !
It was immediately seen from one end of the place to
the other, and twenty barkers beset her, each in turn, as
she walked forward, arresting her course by invitations
to inspect the ware that was for sale within. Many a
one has had her cloak or shawl torn from her back by
these rival sisters of trade, during their struggles to draw
her within their den, each pulling a different way.
At the north-west angle of Newport Street formerly
stood the toAvn house of the noble family of Newport.
On the west side of the garden that belonged to it, on
the site of part of Gerrard Street, was an artillery-
ground, as we are informed by Maitland, in Avhich the
Middlesex MUitia and the Westminster Train Bands
were exercised. Maitland says that, at the other end
of this street, the family of Bolingbroke had once a
house. In Newport Street Avas born the celebrated Home
Tooke, the son of a poulterer in Newport Market, Being
once asked by some of his aristocratic schoolfelloAvs what
his father was, he replied " a turkey merchant." They

126 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
never discovered the joke, and treated him with great
respect in consequence.
In this street also Francis Vivares, the engraver, kept
a taUor's shop. His landlord, Mr. Peltro, a plate-chaser,
of Porter Street, accidentaUy discovered his genius for
the arts, candidly told him that he was a very bad tailor,
but that he would make an exceUent engraver. Mr.
Vivares soon after this went to Paris, where he studied
under Le Bas. He then returned to England, where he
was particularly assisted by Chatelain. He Hved for
many years in Great Newport Street, where he published
an engraved list of his OAvn works, which he had also
published himself.
St. Martm's Lane, Greek Street, and aU this neigh
bourhood, were long the very head-quarters of the artists.
A sprinkling of them may be stiU met about Soho
Square now; and Newman Street is fuU of them ; but in
the time of Benjamin West, and before the formation of
the Royal Academy, Greek Street, St. Martin's Lane,
and Gerrard Street, was thefr colony. Old Slaughter's
Coffee House in St. Martin's Lane, was their grand resort
in the evenings, and Hogarth was a constant visitor. In
1753, the artists used to meet at the "Turk's Head," in
Greek Street, and from thence their secretary, Mr. F. M.
Newton, dated a printed letter to the principal artists, to
form a select body for the protection and encouragement
of art.
Another Society of Artists met under the auspices
of Mr. Moser, in Peter's Court, St. Martin's Lane, from
the year 1739 to 1767. After contmued squabbles.

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 127
which had lasted many years, the principal artists, in
cluding Benjamin West, Richard Wilson, Edward Penny,
Joseph Wilton, Sir WiUiam Chambers, G. M. Moser,
Paul Sandby, and J. M. Newton, met together at the
" Turk's Head," Avhere many others having joined them
they agreed to petition the king (George III.) to become
Patron of a Royal Academy op Art. His Majesty
consented, and the new society took a room in Pall Mall,
opposite to Market Lane, where they remained until the
king, in the year 1771, 'granted them apartments in Old
Somerset House.
Little St. Martin's Lane was caUed Cock Lane before
the year 1708.
The foUowing are amoug a number of tokens issued
by tradesmen of St. Martin's Lane : —
Marriott Matt : at the Kings (reverse) head at the end
ot St. Martins his half peny.
Richard WUlson in Mealman (reverse) S. Martins
Lane 1657.
WiU Foord at j^ Crook Bill (reverse) in St. Martins in
y« Fields 1668 his halfe peny. 0
Carter WiUiams (reverse) in St. Martins Lane -^ tt-
Lyne Richard (reverse) St. Martines Lane tj ti
WiU Robinson at y« Goulden (reverse) in St. Martins
Lane 1667 his halfepeny.
The handsome church of St. Martin was completed in
1726, from the designs of Gibbs the architect. In the
reign of Henry VIII., a small church was built here, at

128 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the king's expense, on account of the poverty of the
parish, which was then very thinly inhabited. It 1607,
the parish had so increased in wealth and population,
that it was found necessary to make very considerable
additions to the buUding. In 1721, the increase had
been so much greater, that it was judged advisable to
provide far better accommodation than the old church
could afford by any process of alteration, and it Avas
puUed clown, and the present edifice erected on its site.
It was in the old church that the body of Sir Edmondbury
Godfrey, murdered upon Primrose HiU in the time of
Charles II., under those mysterious circumstances which
historians have never been able to clear up, was buried
with great magnificence. The popiUar excitement from
the fear of the Papists Avas extreme. Hume says, that
previous to the funeral, the body Avas carried into the
City, attended by vast multitudes. It was pubUcly
exposed in the streets, and viewed by aU ranks of men,
and every one Avho saw it Avent away inflamed, as well
by the mutual contagion of sentiments as by the dismal
spectacle itself The funeral was celebrated with great
parade. The corpse Avas conducted through the chief
streets of the city. Seventy-two clergymen marched
before, and above a thousand persons of distinction fol
lowed after. At the funeral sermon two able-bodied
divines mounted the pulpit, and stood on each side of
the preacher, lest in paying the last duties to the
unhappy magistrate, he should before the whole people
be assassinated by the Papists.
The foUoAving notice regarding the old church

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 129
appears in the Journals of the House of Commons, vol.
iu. p. 399 :—
"Ao. 1648-4, Feb. 14. Ordered, That the pew in St. Martin's
Church, belonging to the Earl of Berkshire's house, be appointed
and set apajt for the Scott's Comisioners, and the vestry-men of that
parish are hereby required to take notice hereof, and prepare the
pew." Until the year 1826, this end of St. Martin's Lane
was a narrow thoroughfare, l^ut in that year all the
houses opposite to the church were pulled down, by
which means a fine opening was made, and a view ob
tained from PaU Mall East of the noble portico of the
sacred edifice.
Vast improvements have been made in this spot
within the last eight years. The old Mews have been
removed — a fine open space made towards Spring
Gardens, with the name of Trafalgar Square, in the
middle of which are two handsome fountains, a triumphal
column, which we shall mention at large presently,
and lastly, a National GaUery has been erected.
The Mews, which stood upon the site of the latter
edifice, was appropriated for the reception of the royal
falcons from a very early period — Pennant says, at least
from the reign of Richard II. — but it would appear that
existed even earUer. By the wardrobe accounts of
Edward I., in 1299, ft is shown that Hawkin, the king's
falconer, had 2s. 4c/. aUowed him for shoes.
In the 13th Edward II., John De La Becke had the
custody of the King's Mews, called "de mutis apud
VOL. I. K

130 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Charryng juxta Westmonasterium," delivered to him. —
Ibid. p. 250.
John De St. Alban appears to have succeeded De La
Becke in the custody of this Mews, in the 10th of Edward
III.— Ibid. vol. U. p, 108,
In the reign of Richard II., the weU-known Sir Simon
Burley was keeper of the King's Falcons at Charing
Cross ; and the illustrious father of English poetry,
Geoffrey Chaucer, either in that or in the first year of the
subsequent reign, was clerk of the King's works, and of
the Mews at Charing.
The Mews Avas changed to stables in the reign of
Henry VIII., by reason of a fire which burnt the royal
stables at Bloomsbury.
The notorious Colonel Joyce was imprisoned in the
Mews by order of Oliver Cromwell, as appears by a small
sheet of four pages, published in 1659, and now extremely
rare, entitled — " A True Narrative of the occasions and
causes of the late Lord-Gen. CromAvell's anger and indig
nation against Lieut.-Col. George Joyce, (sometime Cor
net Joyce, who secured the King at Holmby,) and his
proceedings against him to cashier him from the army,
and imprison and destroy him in his estate."
In the third page of this sheet, it is stated that the
Colonel was carried away by musqueteers to the Mews,
and put into a close chamber within the common Dutch
prison, Avhere he was overrun with vermin, and where he
was forced to continue above ten days. After great
importunity he obtained a removal to another chamber
in the Mews, where he feU sick with the filthy smeUs

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 131
and other inconveniences, and continued ten weeks, but
was often sent to by Oliver Cromwell to lay doM^n his
commission, which he absolutely refused to do, declaring
to all how unworthily he was dealt Avith, and that all
that had been SAvorn against him Avas false.
This building was pulled down in 1,732, when a new
and more -handsome edifice, used as the royal stables,
was erected upon its site. This lasted about a century,
and Avas in its turn pulled doAA^n to make room for the
National Gallery. This building was erected between
the years 1834 and 1837, from the design of Mr. Charles
Wilkins. The front is about 500 feet in length. In the
centre is a portico, Avith eight columns of the Corinthian
order, the ascent to which is formed by a flight of steps
at each side, the whole surmounted by an ornamented,
if not an ornamental, dome. Critics with reason object
to this edifice that it is too low in comparison with the
objects by Avhich it is surrounded ; the portico of St.
Martin's church being considerably higher, and even the
houses in Suffolk Place at the other end, against which it
is affixed, being several yards more lofty. However
there is this to be said for the architect, that the dimen
sions of the edifice were not his work, but that of the
House of Commons, Avhich uniformly shows itself liberal
enough when the whims of royalty are to be pleased,
but which grows unnecessarily and most inconveniently
economical whenever it is a question of advantage for the
people. A few thousands of pounds in addition would
have rendered this edifice worthy of the British nation,
and have saved us many " odious comparisons" Avith our
K 2

132 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
more liberal, and perhaps more enUghtened neighbours.
One of the last occasions upon which the late King
WUUam IV. appeared in public, was to visit this
exhibition before its formal opening. His Majesty, at
tended by Queen Adelaide and several members of his
court, went through the rooms on the 28th of April,
1837, and they were opened for public exhibition on the
1st of May.
It is generaUy believed that the idea of erecting a
monument in the metropoUs worthy of Nelson originated
with om* late King William IV. Certain it is that he
favoured the design of opening to the people the square
at Charing Cross, of naming it " Trafalgar," and of
placing in its centre some monument to Nelson, such as
might not disgrace the patronage of a sovereign, or the
immortal glories of the hero. Such, in the main, was the
origin of the " Nelson Testimonial," in Trafalgar Square.
For this noble object a subscription was opened, and a
committee organized, the Duke of Buccleuch lending his
efficient aid as chairman. Unfortunately, the sovereign
did not live to witness the progress of his favourite pro
ject. (We may as well add, in this place that there
appears at last some hope that this work wiU be com
pleted.) To resume : — On a considerable sum being raised, the
committee advertised for designs for a monument of
architecture and sculpture; the rewards of 250/., 150Z.,
and 100/. respectively, being promised to the author of
the design which the commfttee should deem first,
second, and third in order of merft; and the highest

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 133
premium was awarded to Mr, William Railton, The de
signs were then submitted to the inspection of the pubUc,
with certain additions, alterations, and amendments ; and
the committee, on June 22, confirmed, their former choice,
and finally decided upon the design of Mr. RaUton.
In the choice of his design the architect carefully con
sidered every species of monument, not only with respect
to the subject itself but also with reference to the site,
the character, and dimensions of the surrounding buUd
ings, and the amount (30,000/.) which was to be ex
pended on his performance. Anything in the nature of
a temple he conceived to be entirely out of the question,
both on account of the expense, and the screen it would
offer, from every point of view, to some one or more of
the neighbouring edifices, thus destroying their effect;
whUst a group of figures, on the other hand, (keeping
within the proposed sum,) must necessarUy be so very
limited as to be appreciated Only on close inspection, but
producing no distant effect, especiaUy when corroded, as
it soon would be, by the damp and smoky atmosphere
of the metropoUs. Mr. RaUton submitted that a column,
by affording an opportunity for the combined efforts of
the architect and sculptor, would produce both near and
distant effects ; and being in keeping with the surround
ing buildings, would tend, more than any other species
of monument, to bring the entire scene into general har
mony, without in the least degree destroying the effect of
any portion of it.
Mr. Railton chose the Corinthian order, as being the
most lofty and, in his opinion, the most elegant in its

134 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
proportions, and because it had never before been used
in England for this purpose. The shaft is placed upon a
pedestal, having on its four sides bassi relievi of Nel
son's four principal engagements, viz., St. Vincent, Co
penhagen, Nile, and Trafalgar; the bassi relievi being
eighteen feet square, and the figure of Nelson in each
seven feet high. The pedestal is raised on a flight of
fifteen steps, at the angles of which are African lions in
a recumbent position. The shaft is uniformly fluted
throughout, the lower and upper torns being ornamented
Avith oak leaves. The capital is taken from the bold and
simple example of Mars Ultor at Rome, and a figure of
Victory is introduced on each side ; from thence rises a
circular pedestal, ornamented with a wreath of laurel, and
surmounted by a colossal statue. The dimensions of the
Avhole foUow: — HEIGHT. WIDTH.
 10 feet 104 feet

Pedestal  ,  39
Base of Column  9
Shaft  90
Capital  14
Pedestal.,,.  14
Statue  17

206 12

Total 193 feet.
This monument, on the whole, may be pronounced a
very handsome ornament to the almost unparaUeled site
on which it is placed, and is highly creditable to the
abiUties of the architect. If we say there is little
originality in its conception, that will, perhaps, hardly
be considered as detracting from the merits of the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 135
author; for English architects have not yet learned to
create, and English taste is satisfied with imitations of the
antique. Objections have been taken to the cocked-hat
on the head of the statue. Undoubtedly, the effect is
not poetical ; and it is true. Nelson is most easily recog
nized in our engravings of the hero, when, as most fre
quently we see him, bare-headed. But when we remem
ber the height at which the statue is placed; when, after
straining our eyes to examine it, we discover that the
features are not to be discerned, it AviU be allowed that
the cocked-hat was necessary; for without it Nelson
could, not well have been identified, or be made to
appear any body else than a private gentleman who had
chanced to lose his right arm.
We now pass across Trafalgar Square to Spring
Gardens, which, until the time of Charles II., were AA^hat
their name implies. During the Republic, and after the
Restoration, they were more thickly built upon, and
Prince Rupert took a house there, where he died in
1682, in the sixty-third year of his age. Here also
died Mrs. Centlivre, the celebrated dramatic authoress,
especially remembered for her bustling and entertain
ing comedies, the "Bold Stroke for a Wife." the
" Wonder," and the " Busybody." Centlivre, by whose
name she is alone remembered, was her third hus
band, and yeoman of the mouth — a cook, or a cook's
assistant, in the service of Queen Anne, who fell in love
with her when she Avas acting in male attire at Windsor.
Her name then was Carroll. Her fine legs and pretty
face captivated the yeoman's eyes, and her wit and good-

136 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
nature captivated his heart, Mrs. Centlivre figures in
the " Dunciad," Pope, in the notes to the passage says,
" She writ many plays and a song before she was seven
years old; she also Avrote a ballad against Mr. Pope's
' Homer' before he began it." The last part of the sen
tence explains why she was reckoned among the dunces.
She was buried in St. Martin's Church.
We have now arrived at Charing Cross, and ended
the first part of our peregrinations.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 137

PART II.

FROM CHARING CROSS TO WESTMINSTER ABBEY,
WESTMINSTER HALL, AND THE HOUSES OF
PARLIAMENT.
HoRNE Tooke, in his " Diversions of Purley," derives
the word Charing from the Saxon word charan, to turn ;
and the situation of the original village, on the bend or
turning of the Thames, gives probability to this ety
mology. In the reign of Edward I., Charing was a rural
hamlet on the highway between London and West
minster, consisting of no more than a dozen houses, or
hovels. It took the additional name of Cross from the
wooden cross set up by that monarch, as a testimony of
his conjugal affection, strong beyond the grave, for his
beloved Eleanor. Wherever her corpse rested, on its
transit from Grantham, in Lincolnshire, to Westminster
Abbey, the place of her sepulture, the affectionate king
erected a cross in commemoration of her. A stone
cross, from the design of Cavalini, afterwards replaced
the original wooden one ; and it lasted untU the fanati
cism, which broke forth in England in the seventeenth
century, swept it away with many other remarkable
Works of art which reminded the multitude of that faith
which they abhorred. It waS demolished in 1647, by

138 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
an order of the House of Commons, which had been
issued three years preA'iously, but for some reason or
other not carried into effect immmediately, as Avas the
case Avith the cross at Cheapside. The royalists did not
let the opportunity slip, but turned the order into ridi
cule, in the song entitled the "Downfall of Charing
Cross." Undone, undone, the lawyers are.
They wander about the town;
Nor can find the way to Westminster,
Now Charing Cross is down.
At the end of the Strand they make a stand,
Swearing they are at a loss,
And chafing say, that's not the way.
They must go by Charing Cross.
The Parliament; to A'ote it down.
Conceived it very fitting;
For fear it should fall, and kill them all.
In the house as they were sitting.
But neither man, woman, nor child.
Will say, I'm confident.
They ever heard it speak a word
Against the Parliament.
An informer swore it letters bore.
Or else it had been freed;
I'll take, in troth, my bible oath.
It could neither write nor read.
The Committee said that, verily,
To popery it was bent;
For aught I know it might be so.
For to church it never went.
Lilly, the astrologer, says, in his " Observations on the
Life and Character of Charles I.," that the workmen
Avere employed for three months, (June, July, and
August, 1647,) in pulling ft down, and that some of the

IN THE STEEETS OP LONDON. 139
stones were used to form the pavement before White
haU. The admirers of relics bought some of them, and
had them made into knife-handles ; and Lilly saAV some
of them which Avere polished, and looked like marble.
The site remained vacant for thirty-one years, when the
equestrian statue that now adorns it Avas placed there by
order of Charles IL, and a pedestal erected expressly for
it by Grinlyn Gibbons. The statue was cast in 1633, by
Le Sueur, for the Earl of Arundel, but was ordered by
the House of Commons, after the execution of the king,
to be sold and broken to pieces. It was purchased by
John River, or Rivet, a brazier, who foreseeing, perhaps,
that the monarchy might, s6me day or other, grow into
good odour again with the people, buried the statue in
his garden somewhere in Holborn.
The following inscription is copied from a large sheet
print of the statue, beautifully engraved, in the manner
and time of Faithorne, but without name or date; ex
tremely rare.
" This portraiture was drawne from the magnificent figure cast in
brasse by that most famous artist. Monsieur Le Sueur, An. Donj.
1633, exceeding the proportion of the life, being almost 10 foot
high, and Tvith great hazzard, charge, and care preserved under
ground by John Rivet, brasier, living at Holbern Conduit at ye
Diall*. The brazier, it appears, made a very good thing of his
bargain, for he bought a large quantity of old brass,
which he made into knife and fork-handles, and publicly
* Malcolm, in his account of London, supposes that the statue
was concealed during the Interregnum in a vault under the church
of St. Paul's, Coveut Garden, but all the authorities are against this
supposition.

140 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
advertised as being manufactured of the king's statue.
They sold wonderfuUy, both parties being aUke eager to
procure them ; — ^the roundheads to triumph over royalty
— the cavaUers to preserve a memento of their Sove
reign. It does not appear what sum the brazier received
for the statue at the Restoration, or even whether he
was alive. The Parliament of 1678 voted the sum of
70,000/. for solemnizing the funeral, and for erecting a
monument to the memory of Charles I., and out of this
sum a portion went towards the repurchase of this
statue and the erection of the pedestal by Grinlyn
Gibbons. There is an idle story abroad, and very generaUy
beUeved, that the horse is Avithout a girth. This asser
tion appears to have been first made in a periodical
publication caUed the "Medley," for August, 1719,
which is quoted by Malcolm, in his "Account of Lon
don," affirmed by him to be the fact, and since copied
by numerous writers. Any person who vriU take the
trouble to look at the statue, wiU see that there is a
girth passing over a very strong rein on the right of the
anunal. Of Charing Cross and its sm-rounding buildings, per
haps the rare print by Sutton NichoUs is the earliest ; it
is a sheet print, and of a size with those pubUshed in
Strype's Stow. It appears by this view, that there were
about forty smaU square stone posts then, surrounding
the pedestal on which the statue is placed, and that that
spot then was a standing place for hackney-chafrs ; it
also shows that every house had a long stepping-stone at
a smaU distance from its front, for the accommodation

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 141
of those who used carriages. Perhaps no place is better
known all over Britain than Charing Cross. It affords a
couplet in the match-boy's song, —
" I cry my matches by Charing Cross,
Where sits a black man on a black horse."
When Bloomsbury Church was finished, the figure of
King George I. surmounting the steeple excited much
criticism, and gave rise to the following lines, printed
in a sixpenny book for chUdren about 1756 ; —
" No longer stand staring,
My friend, at Cross Charing,
Amidst such a number of people ;
For a man on a horse
Is a matter of course,
But look, here is a king on a steeple * !"
Charing Cross was for many centuries a place of punish
ment, and its piUory was among the most famous of the
many that formerly stood in London. Among many
notorious persons who underwent that degradation in
this place were Titus Gates, for his well-known perjuries,
and Parsons, the chief concoctor of that memorable im
position, known by the name of the Cock Lane Ghost.
The following extract from " The Daily Advertiser" for
the 11th of June, 1731, will show the sort of punish
ment that was sometimes inflicted upon unhappy indivi
duals in the pillory.
* There is another epigram on this subject which is worth re
membering: —
" It might shortly be proved, without pains or research.
That the King's claims are good to be head of the Church ;
This, however, contents not the Bloomsbury people,
Who're determined to make him the head of the steeple."

143 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
" Yesterday Japhet Crook, alias Sir Peter Stranger, stood on
the pillory for the space of one hour; after which he was seated in
ail elbow-chair, and the common hangman cut both his ears off
with an incision knife, and shewed them to the spectators; after
wards delivered them to Mr. Watson, a sherifi''s officer, then slit
both his nostrils with a pair of scissors, and scar'd them with a hot
iron, pursuant to his sentence. He had a surgeon to attend him on
the pillory, who immediately apply'd things necessary to prevent
the effusion of blood. He underwent it all with undaunted courage ;
afterwards went to the Ship Tavern, at Charing Cross, where he
stay'd some time, then was carried to the King's Bench Prison,
to be confined there for life. During the time he was on the
pillory he laughed, and deny'd the fact to the last."

Charing Cross is also memorable for more sanguinary
punishments than this. Here, in the reign of Charles II.,
were executed Hugh Peters, chaplain of Oliver Cromwell,
Scrope, Jones, Harrison, and many other of the regicides.
It will be remembered that there Avas neither cross nor
statue at this time, and the scaffold for the execution of
these unhappy men stood on the spot now occupied by
the pedestal of Grinlyn Gibbons. They all died with
the courage of heroes. As Harrison was led to the scaf
fold, (we quote the State Trials,) some one called out to
him in derision, " Where is your Good old Cause T He
with a cheerful smile clapped his hand on his breast, and
said, " Here it is, and I am going to seal it with my
blood." And when he came to the sight of the galloAVS,
he was transported with joy, and his servant asked him
how he did ; he answered " Never better in my life,"
His servant told him, " Sir, there is a crown of glory
prepared for you ;" " 0 yes," replied he, " I see." When
he Avas taken off the sledge, the hangman desired him to
forgive him : " I do forgive thee," said he, " with aU my

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 143
heart, as it is a sin against me," and told him he wished
him all happiness, and further said, " alas, poor man,
thou dost it ignorantly ; the Lord -grant that this sin
may not be laid to thy charge !" and putting his hand
into his pocket, he gave him all the money he had, and
so parting Avith his servant, hugging him in his arms, he
went up the ladder with an undaunted countenance.
The people observing him to tremble in his hands and
legs, he, taking notice of it, said, " Gentlemen, by reason
of some scoffing that I do hear, I judge that some do think
I am afraid to die by the shaking I have in my hands
and knees, I tell you NO, but it is by reason of much
blood that I have lost in the wars, and many Avounds I
have received in my body, which caused this shaking and
weakness in my nerves. I have had it this twelve years.
I speak this to the praise and the glory of God ; He hath
carried me above the fear of death, and I value not my
life because I go to my Father, and I am assured I shall
take it again. Gentlemen, take notice, that for being in
strumental in that cause, (an instrument of the Son of
God,) which hath been pleaded amongst us, I am brought
to this place to suffer death this day : and if I had ten
thousand lives, I could freely and cheerfully lay them all
doAvn to witness to this matter." After he Avas hanged,
a horrible scene took place. In conformity to the bar
barous sentence then, and many years afterAvards, always
executed upon persons convicted of treason, he was cut
down alive and stripped, his belly was then cut open,
his bowels taken out and burnt before his eyes. Harrison,
in the madness of his agony, rose up wildly, it is said,
and gave the executioner a box on the ear, and then fell

144 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
down insensible. It was the last effort of matter over
mind, and for the time it conquered.
Jones and Scrope, both very old men, were drawn in
the sledge together. "Their grave and graceful coun
tenances," says the account in the " State Trials," " accom
panied with courage and cheerfulness, caused great
admiration and compassion in the spectators, as they
passed along the street to Charing Cross. The execu
tioner had done his part upon three others that day, and
was so drunk with blood, that, like one surfeited, he was
sick at stomach, and not being able himself he set his
boy to finish the tragedy upon Colonel Jones." On the
night before his death, he told a friend he had no other
temptation but this, lest he should be too much trans
ported, and so neglect and slight his life, so greatly was
he satisfied to die in such a cause. This enthusiastic old
man — one of the stern, hard. Iron-sides of Cromwell —
grasped his friend in his arms as he mounted the scaffold;
"Farewell!" said he, in a tone of tenderness, "I could
wish thee in the same condition as myself that our souls
might mount up to heaven together, and share in eternal
joys!'^ Hugh Peters, the famous preacher of Oliver Comwell,
was afraid beforehand that his spirits would fail him, and
that he should not behave himself with proper heroism
at the last hour. Another, of the name of Cooke, was
executed before him, and Peters was made to sit within
the raUs to behold his death. We shaU again quote the
simple language of the author of this account in the
" State Trials :" " While sitting thus, one came to him
and upbraided him with the death of the king, bidding

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 145
him, with opprobrious language, to repent. He replied
'Friend, you do not well to trample upon a dying man;
you are greatly mistaken ; I had nothing to do in the
death of the king.' When Mr. Cooke was cut down and
brought to be quartered, one they caUed Colonel Turner,
told the sheriff's men to bring Mr. Peters near, that he
might see him. By-and-by, the hangman came to him all
besmeared in blood, and rubbing his bloody hands
together, tauntingly asked him, 'Come, how do you like
this — how do you Uke this work?' To whom Mr. Peters
repUed, ' I am not, I thank God, terrified at it : you may
do your worst!'
" When he was going to his execution, he looked about
and espied a man to whom he gave a piece of gold,
having bowed it first, and desired him to go to the place
where his daughter lodged, and to carry that to her as a
token from him, and to let her know that his heart was
as fuU of comfort as it coiUd be, and that, before that
piece should come into her hands, he should be with God
in glory, " Being upon the ladder, he spake to the sheriff, saying,
'Sir, you have here slain one of the servants of God
before mine eyes, and have made me to behold it on
purpose to terrify and discourage me; but God hath made
it an ordinance to me for my strengthening and encou
ragement,' When he was going to die he said to himself
'What, flesh! art thou unwiUing to go to God through
the fire and jaws of death 1 Oh!' he added, to the speo-
tators, ' this is a good day ; He is come that I have long
looked for, and I shaU soon be with Him in glory.' And
so he smiled when he went away. What Mr. Peters
VOL. I. • L

146 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
said further at his execution, either in his speech or
prayer, it could not be taken, in regard his voice was low
at the time, and the people uncivil."
It is by such men as these that revolutions can only
be made; it is by pardoning such men as these, and
making friends of them, that kings would gain as much
glory as they do shame for sacrificing them. What a
record of tears and blood is the history of England —
what horrible barbarity has been exercised in the abused
name of Justice — what a recklessness of the sacred life of
man has been shown upon every occasion, until within
the last few years ! Civilization has now happUy brought
forth some of her choicest and most ennobling fruits.
The punishment of death, when it is inflicted, is inflicted
Avithout unnecessary cruelty, and Avith no mockery. And
the time, perhaps, may come — at least, philanthropists
may hope for it, and struggle for it — -that LaAv and
Revenge Avill not sit cheek by jowl upon the same judg
ment-seat, thinking not so much of the repression of
future, as of vengeance for past offences. The deaths of
these stern republicans, Avhich throw a melancholy
interest around Charing Cross, had, notAvithstanding the
brutality of some of the people, so powerful an effect
upon the public mind, and awoke so much sympathy,
that the Government gave orders that no more of them
should be executed in the heart of London. The
remainder Avere conveyed to Tyburn accordingly.
But Charing Cross is rich in recollections ; and leaving
this gloomy page in its history, Ave turn to a brighter
one, associated with the names and the revelries of the
poets. It abounded, at the end of the seventeenth, and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 147
for nearly the whole of the eighteenth century, Avith
taverns and other places of public entertainment, the
resort of the Avits and literati. The foUoAving are the
names of the principal houses of this description Avhich
were in existence between the year 1680 and 1730: —
" The Elephant," " The Sugar Loaf" " The Old Man's
Coffee-house," " The Old Vine," " The Three Flower de
Luces," " The British Coffee-house," " The Young Man's
Coffee-house," " The Three Queens," " Locket's Ordinary,"
"The Rummer," and "Robinson's Coffee-house." The
names of many of these are to be met Avith in the
" Spectator" and " Tatler," but for our purpose we shall
confine ourselves to the three last, as deserAing of special
notice. "Locket's Ordinary" was fashionable in the days of
Buckingham — that Buckingham of whose character
Dryden wrote the Avell-known description, and Avhose
death " in the worst inn's worst room" has been sung of
by Pope. This coffee-house is often mentioned in the
plays of Vanbrugh, Cibber, and the other dramatists of
that period; and by one of them. Sir George Etherege,
it was constantly frequented. Sir George only discon
tinued the Ordinary when he had run up a bill which he
was unable to pay, when he began to absent himself
Mrs. Locket thereupon sent a man to dun him, and
threaten him with a prosecution if he did not pay. Sir
George, an utter poco-cwante, sent back Avord to Mrs.
Locket, that if she stirred a step in the matter he would
kiss her. On receiving this answer, the good lady, much
exasperated, called for her hood and scarf and told her
husband, who interposed, " that she would see if there
L 2

148 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
was any feUow alive who would have the impudence."
— "Prithee! my dear, don't be so rash," said her hus
band ; " there is no teUing what a man may do in his
passion!" " The Rummer Tavern," the site of which is at the
back of No. 14, Charing Cross, was kept by an uncle of
Matthew Prior, the poet and diplomatist. The uncle's
name was Samuel Prior; and in his house, it appears,
used to be held an anniversary dinner of the nobility and
gentry living in the parish of St. Martin's in the Fields'.
The young poet, having lost his father at an early age,
was taken into the house of his uncle, who sent him for
some time to Westminster School under the care of Dr.
Busby. After he had made what his uncle thought a
sufficient progress in his studies, he took him home, with
the view probably of teaching him his own business.
Prior, in an epistle written to his friend, Fleetwood
Shepherd, many years afterwards, says —
" My uncle, rest his soul ! when living
Might have contrived me ways of thriving ;
Taught me with cider to replenish
My vats, or ebbing tide of Rhenish;
So when for hock, I drew pricked white-wine.
Swear t'had the flavour, and was right-wine."
He was saved from this fate, however, by mere chance ;
for, according to Bishop Burnet, he was found one day
by the Earl of Dorset, at a window of the " Rummer,"
reading " Horace." His lordship, a lover of poetry, and
himself a poet in a small way, was struck with the cir
cumstance; and finding that the youth had a mind above
his station, and an ardent desire for knowledge, inva-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 149
riably the accompaniment to genius, he undertook the
care of his fortunes, and supported him for four years at
Cambridge. Prior afterwards rose to distinction, not
only in the Uterary but in the political world — ratted
from the Whigs to the Tories — ^became a diplomatist
and a member of Parliament, and an ambassador — got
into difficulties, narrowly escaped an impeachment; and
was finally, at the age of fifty-three, turned adrift upon
the world, after a short imprisonment in the custody of
the serjeant-at-arms, without a shiUing, He had friends,
however, and abUities. He pubUshed his poems by sub
scription, and raised a sum which is enough to make a
poet's mouth water — ^four thousand guineas. The Earl
of Oxford made him a present of the like sum to buy a
house at Down HaU in Essex, and thither he retired, and
passed the short remainder of his days in peace,
"Robinson's Coffee-house" is associated with the name
of another, but less fortunate poet. Matthew Prior, the
orphan, and nephew of a tavern-keeper, rose to power,
and wealth, and renown, Richard Savage, the son of an
earl, by a mother as nobly born as the father, lived a life
of constant poverty and misfortune, and died in a gaol,
beholden to the humanity of a prison-keeper for the last
crust to put into his mouth, and the last blanket that
covered him.
Savage had come into London from Richmond, to pay
for lodgings that he had formerly taken in Westminster,
but which he had left without discharging the rent, when
he accidentaUy met two gentlemen named Merchant and
Gregory, with whom he went into a coffee-house, and
drank tiU a very late hour in the night. It was in fact

150 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
so late, that they considered it quite useless to attempt to
get a bed, so they determined to walk the streets tiU
morning, and amuse themselves as they best could.
Unluckily, they soon afterwards passed "Robinson's Coffee
house," which was a tavern that bore no very good name,
and seeing a Ught in the Avindow, they knocked at the
door, and were admitted. Merchant, who appears to
have been the drunkest of the party, demanded a room
with much insolence of tone and manner. He was told
that there was a good fire in the parlour (it was a cold
raw night in November), and that the company were
just about to leave it. Merchant pushed forward, over
turning everything in his way, and was foUoAved by
Gregory and the unlucky poet. Merchant, who was
quarrelsome in his cups, placed himself betAveen the rest
of the company and the fire, and soon after kicked down
the table. A quarrel ensued; swords were drawn on
both sides, and a Mr. Sinclair received a mortal wound
from the Aveapon of Savage. A servant girl who inter
posed was also wounded by the same hand, and Savage
and his tAvo companions fled for their lives. Losing their
presence of mind, they were discovered iu a few minutes,
lurking in a back court, by some soldiers who had been
called from the Gate House at Westminster to quell the
disturbance. They were imprisoned in the Gate House,
and in the morning, the unfortunate Mr. Sinclair having
died of his Avounds, they were removed to NeAA'gate. The
trial excited great interest in London. Savage received
the chai-actcr of a quiet inoffensive man, and pleaded
that the bloAv Avliich had deprived his feUoAv-creature of life
was not premeditated, but given in self defence. Judge

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 151
Page, Avho tried the case, a judge Avho is damned to ever
lasting fame in the verse of Pope, for his hard words and
his love of hanging, endeavoured to exasperate the jury in
the following address, which Savage used afterwards to
repeat : —
" Gentlemen of the jury! you are to consider that Mr,
Savage is a very great man, a much greater man than
you or I, gentlemen of the jury; that he wears very fine
clothes, much finer clothes than you or I, gentlemen of
the jury ; that he has abundance of money in his pocket,
much more money that you or I, gentlemen of the jury ;
but, gentlemen of the jury, is it not a very hard case,
gentlemen of the jury, that Mr, Savage should therefore
kill you or me, gentlemen of the jury"?"
After this elegant address, the jury found a verdict of
"guilty of murder" against Savage and Gregory, Avho had
swords, and of manslaughter only against Merchant,
the original cause of all the mischief Avho was not
armed. Sentence of death was recorded against the two
former, and for many months Savage fully expected that
he should close his miserable life upon the scaffold. His
mother, the author of all his ills, tried hard to bring
about this result, and for some time successfully thwarted
the efforts that Avere made to save him. Her own unna
tural cruelty was at last exposed at Court, and Savage
was pardoned after six months' painful confinement in
NoAvgate. In all English literature there is not a more
affecting narrative than the life of this poet by Dr.
Johnson — it has all the interest of romance, Avith aU the
value of truth — and the style has as many beauties as

152 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
are to be found in any other composition of that great
writer, with fewer of his mannerisms and defects.
Charing Cross is associated with the names of two
other poets besides these — Ben Jonson and James Thom
son. It is supposed that rare Ben was born in Hartshorn
AUey, in Charing Cross, somewhere near the place where
Craig's Court now stands, but this is not certain. Honest
old FuUer, speaking of him, says, "I cannot with aU my
industry trace him to his cradle, but I can fetch him
from his long coats. When a little child he Uved in
Hartshorn Lane, Charing Cross, where his mother married
a bricklayer for her second husband. He was first bred
in a private school in St. Martin's Lane, and then in
Westminster School."
Rare Ben also Uved in an aUey, as appears from his
famous answer to King Charles I., who had sent him a
very tardy and very small sum, when he was in poverty
and sickness — " I suppose he -sends me this, because I
live in an alley — teU him his soul lives in an alley!"
In the first-floor of the house now inhabited by Messers.
Parker and Co., the MUitary and Naval Booksellers, a
little further up the street towards WhitehaU, Thomson
the poet took lodgings, when he first arrived in London to
try his fortune. He had few friends and Uttle money,
and trusted to make his fortune by his poem of "Winter,"
the MS. of which he brought with him. Ultimately it
did make his fortune ; but he had to undergo many pri
vations and disappointments in the meantime. In this
lodging he wrote part of his " Summer." The other two
Seasons were written at Hammersmith and Richmond.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 153
We shaU now proceed to Westminster Abbey, linger
ing with the reader, sometimes on the right side of the
way, and sometimes on the left; and finding some
thing worthy to be remembered at every step ; for the
ground is classic, and every inch of it, if it had a tongue,
could teU a tale worth hearing.
Before we quit Charing Cross — the spot according to
Johnson, at which might be seen " the fuU tide of human
existence" — we should not omit to mention that Sir
Nicholas Bacon, the father of the Ulustrious Francis, had
a house here, where he died in 1578, "He was," says
Camden in his " History of Elizabeth," " a man exceed
ing gross-bodied, sharp-witted, of singular wisdom, rare
eloquence, exceUent memory, and a pUlar, as it were, of
the Privy CouncU." Elizabeth used to say of him, " My
Lord Keeper's soul is well lodged,"
There is a tradition, that on the site of Messrs. Drum-
monds and Co's banking-house, OUver Cromwell had a
house. Be this true or not, he certainly resided in King
Street, Westminster, previous to his usurpation; indeed,
he lived there when he was appointed Lieutenant of
Ireland, as wUl be seen hereafter.
The whole of the street opposite to the statue of King
Charles to the site of the Admiralty, was formerly much
narrower; the houses, when Drummond's was buUt, were
set back fuU forty feet more to the west, upon an open
square place caUed " CromweU's yard."
That interesting print of Night, one of Hogarth's
Four Times of the Day, presents an accurate view of the
spot, taken before the street was widened.
The same print may also be instanced as affording the

154 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
best display of house-signs of any, — delineating the
costume of the time.
On the site of the Admiralty stood Peterborough
House (aftei-Avards called Wallingford House). It was
on the top of this mansion that Archbishop Usher
attempted to see the execution of Charles I., as appears
by the following extract from Parr's Life of that prelate,
" At the time of His Majesty's murther, the Lady Peter
borough's House, (where my Lord then lived,) being
just over against Charing Cross, divers of the Countess'
gentlemen and servants got upon the leads of the house,
from whence they could see plainly what was acting
before Whfte-HaU,"
" The primate, who could not stand the sight, fainted,
was taken down and put on his bed,"
This will clearly prove to the satisfaction of many
people, that King Charles Avas beheaded on the west
front of Whitehall, and not, as has been often asserted
in conversation, on the ground behind the building in
Privy Gardens, Avhere the statue of King James is
placed. Many persons insist that the statue is pointing
to the very spot of his father's execution, ' The fact is
strictly this ; — the King, who is very absurdly depicted
in the habit of a Roman commander, formerly held a
truncheon in his hand, and if any person will take the
pains to satisfy himself upon the point, he will see a
regular circle made through the hand to receive it. This
truncheon, Mr. J. G. Smith remembered perfectly well to
have seen when he was a boy ; but it has since either
ftdlen out, being loose, or taken away, or stolen, for
nobody knows Avhat has become of it.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 155
But to return to WalUngford House, Avliich seems,
during the reign of Charles. I. and the CommouAvealth, to
have been caUed indiscriminately by the two names,
Peterborough or WaUingford. It Avas inhabited for some
time by the well-knoAvn General Fleetwood, after his
return from the government of Ireland, to which he had
been appointed by Cromwell. Fleetwood, it should be
remembered, married one of CromAvell's daughters, after
the death of her first husband, Ireton. In his apart
ments, after the death of the Protector, were held the
meetings known in history by the name of the WaUing
ford House Cabal, which brought about the doAvnfal of
the second Protector, Richard, and aided the restoration
of Charles II. WaUingford House then became the
property of the celebrated Villiers, duke of Buckingham,
the son of the Duke of the sam.e name who was mur
dered by Felton. He inhabited it occasionally, along
with York House in the Strand, close adjoining, and kept
a daUy levee for astrologers, alchymists, and quacks of
every description; poets, painters, and musicians being
included in the number. He is chiefly remembered noAv
in the verse of Dryden, as —
" A man so various, that he seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome ;
StiS' in opinions, always in the wrong.
Was everything by starts, and nothing long.
But, iu the course of one revolving moon.
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and ImfToon ;
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking.
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
„ Blest madman ! who could every hour employ
With something new to wish or to enjoy !

156 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Railing and praising were his usual themes.
And both, to show his judgment, in extremes :
So over-violent, or over-civil,
That every man with him was God or Devil.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.
Beggared by fools, whom still he found too late.
He had his jest, and they had his estate.
He laughed himseK from court, then sought relief
By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief.
For spite of him the weight of business fell
On Absalon, or wise Achitophel.
Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft.
He left not faction, but of that was left."
It has been well remarked by Sir Walter Scott upon
this inimitable passage, that it touches rather upon the
ridiciUous than the criminal parts of Buckingham's cha
racter. " The unprincipled libertine," says Sir Walter,
" who slew the Earl of Shi-ewsbury whUe his adulterous
Countess held his horse in the disguise of a 'page, and
who boasted of caressing her before he changed the
bloody clothes in which he had murdered her husband, is
not exposed to hatred, whUe the spendthrift and castle-
buUder are held up to contempt."
After the death of Buckingham, WalUngford House
remained some time untenanted, and in the reign of
WiUiam III. it was appointed for the Admiralty Office,
which previous to that time had been in Duke Street,
Westminster. It was for the greater part demolished in
the reign of George IL, and the present Admiralty Office
erected on its site from the design of Ripley.
In the apartments usuaUy occupied by the First Lord
of the Admiralty in his official capacity, the chimney-
pieces are very elegant, particiUarly those in the drawing-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 157
room, dining-room, and best bed-chamber. They were
brought from the superb mansion of Sir Gregory Page
at Blackheath, after it was demoUshed, and the materials
sold in separate lots, in 1787. In another apartment are
placed the original pictm-es and drawings by Hodges,
made during the first voyage of Captain Cook.
On the opposite side of the street, stand the various
entrances to that precinct known as Scotland Yard, an
ancient appendage to the royal palace of Whitehall, and
noAV chiefly remarkable as the head-quarters of the
MetropoUtan Police.
On this spot there was formerly a small palace, built
for the reception of the kings of Scotland, when they
came in early ages to do homage for their fiefs in Cum
berland. As society advanced, and the rights of each
sovereign of the two extremities of Britain became more
distinct and defined, this practice was abandoned. In
the reign of Henry VIII. the palace was appropriated to
the Queen Margaret of Scotland, his sister, and widow of
James IV. of Scotland, in right of their descent from
whom, the Stuarts afterwards ascended the throne of
Great Britain. It afterwards became incorporated with
the royal palace of Whitehall, and was divided into
various offices for the members of the household.
A desperate adventure happened to the weU-known
*Lord Herbert of Cherbury opposite Scotland Yard, which
he has related in his Autobiography. The Lady Ayres,
wife of Sir John Ayres, and one of the ladies-in-waiting
upon Anne, Queen of James I.,, was indiscreet -enough to
entertain a most unmatronly regard for Lord Herbert,
and to wear his miniature in her bosom, without ever

158 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
having received, if Lord Herbert is to be beUeved, the
slightest encouragement from him. The fact coming to
the knowledge of her husband, he hired four ruffians, and
placing himself at their head, Avatched for Lord Herbert,
as he was coming from Whitehall on horseback, attended
by two lacquies. As he reached Scotland Yard, Sir John
rushed upon him Avith a sword and dagger, and one of his
lacquies, a great felloAv, ran away and left him to his fate.
In this first encounter. Lord Herbert's horse received
several wounds, and kicked and plunged so violently as to
keep the assassins at bay some minutes. Lord Herbert,
aiming a blow at Sir John Ayres, unfortunately broke his
sword at the hUt, and Avith no other defence than this
remnant of his weapon, defended himself most valiantly.
Alighting from his horse, ' his foot caught in the stirrup,
and he was thrown violently on the ground ; but being
extricated from that position by his other lacquey, a
little Shropshfre boy, he managed to regain his feet and
get his back against a wall, and wage unequal warfare
with the whole of his assailants. In a few minutes he
Avas surrounded by upwards of thirty persons, friends and
adherents of Sir John, Avho encouraged the assassins by
their shouts to make short work of him. Two gentlemen,
seeing so many men set against one, came to the rescue,
and Sir John Ayres was twice thrown to the ground ; he
got up a third time, and making a more furious assault,*
stuck his dagger into Lord Herbert's side, where it
remained sticking for a minute or two, until pulled out by
Henry Cary, afterwards Lord Falkland. Lord Herbert,
in the meantime, wrestling with his assailant. Sir John
was throAvn a third time, when Lord Herbert, kneeling

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 159
upon his body, wounded him in four places Avitli his piece
of a sword, and nearly cut his hand off. The desperate
combat Avas then ended. Sir John's friends carrying him
away senseless to a boat that was Avaiting for him at
Whitehall Stairs, Lord Herbert recovered of his wounds
in ten days, and sent a challenge to Sir John Ayres • to
meet him in equal combat in the field, with his SAVord in
hand, but received for answer that Sir John Avould not
meet liim, but would kill him with a musket out of a
window. Sir John Ayres Avas afterwards arrested by order of
the Privy Council, and several times examined : he ex
pressed great contrition for his offence, alleging his wife's
confession of criminality as a paUiation, Avhich, however,
she afterwards recanted. His father disinherited him for
his conduct, and he became, as the Duke of Lennox told
Lord Herbert, " the most miserable man living." By the
desire of the king he was discharged from custody, and
Lord Herbert was commanded neither to send nor receive
any challenge from him, nor to pursue the matter further.
Milton, when he was Latin Secretary to CromAvell, had
lodgings in Scotland Yard, and his infant son died when
he resided there. Vanbrugh, the poet and architect,
built a house for himself in Scotland Yard, out of the
ruins of the old palace of Whitehall, which was burned
down at the close of the seventeenth century, as Ave shall
hereafter have occasion more particularly to relate. This
house was much ridiculed by the Avits of the time, espe
ciaUy by SAvift, who wrote two poems about it, in one of
which he describes all the poets of London hunting about
in the rubbish of Whitehall for the house of "brother

160 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Van," and finding at last a little thing, resembUng a goose-
pie, upon which they all exclaim —
" Thrice happy poet ! who may'st trail
Thy house about thee, like a snail ;
Or harnessed to a nag, at ease
Take journies in it, like a chaise ;
Or in a boat, whene'er thou wilt,
Can'st make it serve thee for a tilt.
Capacious house ! it's owned by all ;
Thou art well contrived, though thou art small."
The house, however, from other authorities, appears
not to have deserved the condemnation of men of taste ;
and Vanbrugh was only the butt for wicked wits because
he was a man of influence, and obnoxious to them for his
politics. We are now, as Leigh Hunt has remarked, in the
very thick of the air of royalty ; and reminiscences start
before us at every step, of the able and haughty Wolsey,
the bluff and cruel Harry, the shrewd and shrewish
Elizabeth, the pedantic and lubberly James, the melan
choly and mistaken Charles, the hard unflinching Crom
well, the despicable and licentious Charles IL, and the
still more despicable and licentious Stuart that succeeded
him, and with whose reign the glories of Whitehall
passed away. The whole place teems with the memo
ries of the Tudors and the Stuarts : at one spot we are
reminded of their luxury and their magnificence; at a
second, of their intrigues and their pleasures ; at a third
of their tyranny; and at another of their punishment;
and we think as we pass, if their spectres coiUd one and
all revisit the sunshine of this world, what a motley mul
titude they and their ministers and retainers would make :

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 161
what gravity, what gaiety; what thoughtlessness, what
madness, Avhat guilt, what misery, Avhat ingratitude ; and
what pomp, pride, obsequiousness, and sycophancy would
be dwellers on earth again !
Of -this memorable piece of ground, extending from
the present Scotland Yard along the banks of the
Thames, well nigh to Westminster Hall, and including
the Horse Guards, the Treasury, and the chief part of
ParUament Street, the reader will expect a histoiy. A
short one it must be, and embracing only the more
salient and remarkable incidents; for a complete history
of it, between the time of the disgrace of Wolsey and
that of the more important disgrace of James IL, would
occupy volumes, and form almost a history of England;
whose fate was concentrated in the men that lived, and
moved, and ruled and debated upon this spot.
The first house erected here was for the powerful and
princely Hubert de Burgh, the Lord High Justiciary of
England, during the reign of Henry III. By him it was
bequeathed to the brotherhood of the Blackfriars, near
Holborn, who sold it in the middle of the thirteenth
century to Walter de Grey, the Archbishop of York. It
continued to be inhabited by the prelates of that see
until the time of Wolsey, and to be called York Place.
It is quite needless to dilate upon the dignity of the Great
Cardinal; — his pomp, his lavish generosity, his more
than royal magnificence, and his hospitality, surpassing
anything ever before seen in England. Somebody, we
do not recollect who, compared this prelate to a turkey,
pampered and fatted up by his master, only to furnish
forth a feast at last. The simUe, though far from digni-
VOL. I. M

162 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
fied, has an air of homely truth about it, for every body
knows what a meal the bluff monarch made of his fat
favourite at last, — ^how he enriched himself with his
treasures — and how much stouter he grew after he had
sacrificed him.
York Place was one of the richest spoils that fell into
Henry's hands by the cardinal's fall; and he was so weU
pleased with it, that he made it his own abode, the royal
palace at Westminster having faUen into decay and ruin.
He immediately commenced various improvements, —
erected a new gallery, a gate-house across the street to
the wall of the park, a tennis-court, a cock-pit, and a
tUt-yard. One of the haUs of York Place seems to have
been caUed the Whitehall, and the name was, in course
of time, given to the whole building, although Henry, by
an Act passed in 1536, annexing this domain to the
former royal residence at Westminster, gave the name of
" The King's Palace of Westminster" to his new abode.
But this name never became common ; and during, his
reign, and ever afterwards, it was called WhitehaU,
The two most important acts of Henry's life, as regards
posterity, were passed in this building. In a closet,
secretly, in January, 1533, he married Anne Boleyn,
whom he afterwards beheaded ; and in another apartment
he died, in January, 1548, having but a few days pre
viously beheaded the accomplished gentleman and poet,
the Earl of Surrey.
Let us, for an instant, caU up in review the men and
women who flitted about WhftehaU whUe he was the
owner of it ; what a gallant company we shall see — and
how unfortunate the most of them were made, both in

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 163
life and death, from ever having come in contact with this
memorable brute! First of all, comes Wolsey, with his
red cap, mounted on his mule, in a gorgeous robe,
followed by a train of gentlemen and servants as
gorgeously attired as himself among whom shine con
spicuously two — Cavendish, the founder of the 'present
ducal family of Devonshire, and Thomas Cromwell, the
blacksmith's son of Putney ; the latter a staid and sober
gentleman, and perhaps the only one of all the crowd of
flatterers and parasites that pressed around the great
minister, who felt any affection for him as a man, and
who would have loved him as much if he had been plain
Thomas Wolsey, feeding a flock upon the mountains, as
he did when the fate of an empire hung upon his nod.
Next comes Sir Thomas More, with his intelligent and
quiet face, attired in flowing robes of the soberest colours,
and Fisher, bishop of Rochester, little thinking how soon
their heads are to be stuck upon pikes on the gate of
London Bridge.
Among the throng is Erasmus, who, from having no
power, and standing in nobody's way, escaped scathless,
with bluff Hans Holbein, harmless, and useful, and minis
tering to the love of art, which, amid all his sensuality,
distinguished his master above all the other princes of
his age. Then we have the Dukes of Norfolk and Suf
folk, the former of whom well nigh lost his head, and
remained many years a prisoner in the Tower : his
chivalrous son, the Earl of Surrey, who was not so for
tunate, and the philosophic friend of his youth and man
hood, and brother poet, Sir Thomas Wj'att, who made
unhappy acquaintance Avith a dungeon, as a reward for
M 2

164 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
his services. Then we have CromweU again in another
character, as the powerful Earl of Essex, the exterminator
of the monkish houses, the patron of learning, and the
first subject in the realm, doing kind actions Avhenevcr it
lay in his poAver, although he found no one to do a good
deed by him, or say a kind word in his favour, when the
axe of the executioner was sharpening to decollate him ;
and not least conspicuous in the throng that pass before
the glass of memory,"are the wives of the monarch — the
staid but affectionate Catherine of Arragon, divorced ;
the pretty Anne Boleyn, beheaded; then, the as pretty
Jane Seymour, who died in childbed, and for whose fate,
Avonderful to relate, Henry shed perhaps the only tears
he Avas ever known to weep ; the beautiful but guilty
Catherine Howard, beheaded ; the corpulent Ann of
Cleves, divorced ; and, the luckiest of aU, Catherine
Parr, who had, however, one very narrow escape of being
sent to the Tower, and of losing her head as a necessary
consequence. If to join these we sum up the children,
all afterwards destined to wield the sceptre, — Edward VI.,
Mary, and Elizabeth, — we shall have as perfect a phan
tasmagoria as may be, of the chief personages who might
be seen about Whitehall in the days of the eighth
Henry. The next monarch seldom resided at Whitehall, and
almost the only incident worthy of remembering, in con
nexion with this palace during his reign is, that he had
a pulpit erected in the open air in the Privy Gardens,
where Latimer used to preach, and Avhere he used to
Usten to him. It was not untU the reign of Elizabeth
that Whitehall became as splendid as it was under Henry

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 16. J
VIII. Tilts and tournaments, and masques and mumme
ries, bull-baiting and bear-baiting, and all sorts of fan
tastic festivals were celebrated within its precincts. And
if Ave summoned up the choice spirits of that age, who
repaired here to receive honour from the fountain head
of sovereignty, and to flutter in the brilliant train of the
queen, what an assemblage of memorable names there
would be, comprising wise ministers and staid philoso
phers, and great sea-captains, and immortal poets, and
gentlemen more chivalrous in their speech and bearing
than the knights-errant of old, whose imitators they
avowed themselves to be : — Cecil and Burleigh, and
Nicholas Bacon, and his great son Francis ; Drake and
Raleigh ; Spenser and Shakspeare ; Philip Sydney and
Henry Lee, and Leicester and Essex; and hundreds of
others less celebrated. The pageantries and festivals at
WhitehaU were almost of yearly occurrence, but the most
splendid was that instituted in 1581, when Elizabeth was
in her forty-eighth year, to give the Commissioners, Avho
came from France on the part of the Duke D'Anjou to
negotiate a marriage, a fine idea of the splendour of her
court, and the love and gallantry of her subjects.
A new banqueting-house, on the site of the present
biulding of the same name, Avas erected for the occasion,
composed of wood, .covered with flags, canvas, and a pro
fusion of gilding, intermingled with ivy and other foliage.
Three hundred and seventy-five men were employed
upon it for a period of tAventy-four days, and at a cost
of nearly two thousand pounds. On the arrival of the
commissioners, a pageant, which seems to have been the
conception of Sir PhiUp Sydney, was made for their

166 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
amusement after the banquet. The gaUery in which, the
Queen sat was caUed " the Fortress of perfect Beauty ;"
and four knights — the Earl of Arundel, the Lord Wind
sor, Sir PhUip Sydney, and Fulke GrevUle, caUing them
selves the "four foster-chUdren of Desire" — assaulted the
fortress after some nonsense verses had been recited,
(the contemporary historian, HoUnshed, pronounces them
to have been delectable,) firing rose-water, and perfumes,
and flowers upon it, aU the whUe calling upon " perfect
Beauty to yield to Desire." Four other knights, among
whom was that chivalrous, but very fooUsh old gentle
man. Sir Henry Lee, then entered to do battle on behalf
of perfect Beauty, and a tUting-match immediately com
menced, which lasted untU nightfaU. The same mum
meries were re-enacted on the foUowing day. The four
foster-children of Desire entered amid melancholy music,
and pretending to be dispirited, and half-overcome in
their encounter against Beauty and her champions, sent
forth their herald to express their wiUingness to fight,
and their despair of victory, but begging Her Highness to
console them in death or overthrow by looking upon
them with the eyes of her peerless beauty. Various
combats then took j)lace untU evening, when a page was
despatched, bearing an olive-branch in his hand, to an
nounce the submission of the chaUengers, and praying as
a great favour that perfect Beauty would accept of them
as her bondsmen for ever, and pardon them for having
made violence accompany desire. Perfect Beauty, as in
duty bound, granted their request, returned many thanks
to aU the knights, and so the sports ended. The nego
tiations^ of marriage ended not very long afterwards; and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 167
this beautiful virgin of forty-eight remained a beautiful
A'irgin (at least so everybody told her) untU seventy,
when she died; and her subjects found out for the first
time that, after aU, she was a very ugly old woman.
During the reign of James I., WhitehaU resounded
with the voice of revelry, and festival succeeded festival
Avith great rapidity. Immediately on the King's arrival
from Scotland, he conferred the honour of knighthood
upon three hundred persons in Whitehall Gardens, and
knights in a year or two became as plentiful as black
berries; and WhitehaU, as before, swarmed with cour
tiers. Carr, earl of Somerset, displayed his handsome
Umbs for the gaze, and his smooth cheek for the sicken
ing kisses of his royal master. His paramour, Lady
Essex, excited in aU admiration of her beauty, and smiled,
and smiled, and looked bewitching, while she was think
ing in her heart how she could best prevail upon her
lover to send poor Sir Thomas Overbury to the other
world. At a later period was to be seen the Duke of
Buckingham — Steenie, as the King caUed him — entering
the palace at aU hours, and penetrating into the private
apartments, no one knew how; and besides his queen
and children. Coke, and Bacon, and Ben Jonson were no
unfrequent visitors, and aU upon their several affairs —
Ben's being to write masques for the very costly enter^
tainments which James was so fond of giving. The
masque of " Blacknesse," which he wrote when the young
Prince Charles was created Duke of York, was played at
an expense of nearly 3000/. When his elder brother
was made Prince of Wales, five years afterwards, there
was another masque and entertainment still more expen-

168 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
sive ; the fireworks alone, which were exhibited on the
Thames opposite WhitehaU, having cost that sum.
There Avas besides a grand tournament in the yard, and
the representation of a naval fight ; but the most costly
of these entertainments was that on the marriage of the
Elector Palatine with James's daughter Elizabeth, in 1613,
who afterwards became so popular, and whose title — ^the
Queen of Bohemia — was for nearly a century all the rage
for pubUc-house signs; not to mention the cost of the
banquets, the balls, the tilting-matches, and other festi
vities. Some idea of the general expense may be formed
from the fact, that the fireworks exhibited in the gardens,
and in front of them on the Thames, cost 9000/.
It was the intention of King James to have rebuilt
the palace of WhitehaU in the most magnificent manner,
from the designs of Inigo Jones. These designs have
been often republished ; but the finest impression of them
is a large one, in separate sheets, of the several fronts,
given to the world by the Earl of Bm-liugton, in 1 748
and 1749. The plan, however, was not carried into
effect, partly on account of the death of James, -but
chiefly because a reign succeeded his, during which the
public money was not to be procured for it. A banquet
ing house, on the site of the wooden one erected by
Queen Elizabeth, was built by Inigo Jones, in 1607. It
was burnt down in 1619; when the present edifice from
the designs of the same great architect was erected. It
was, until the last few years, used as a chapel for the troops.
It has been sometimes said that it forms the only remains
of the royal palace ; but this is an error, as part of the
Treasury near Downing Street, on the other side of the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 169
public way, is a remnant of the old York Place of
Cardinal Wolsey.
During the early part of the reign of Charles I., Wliite-
hall continued to be the scene of gaiety, and various costly
masques and triumphs were produced. Inigo Jones had
constant employment in one Avay or another. And the
great Rubens was engaged to paint the ceiling of the
banqueting-house, for which he received 3000/. and the
honour of knighthood. The subject is the apotheosis of
James I., represented in nine compartments. The
ceiling was repaired by Kent in the reign of George IL,
and again by Cipriani in 1780, at an expense of 2000/.
But the era of rejoicing and of encouragement of the
arts soon passed aAvay, and a gloomy and dismal time
succeeded. Long before the final catastrophe, which
wUl for CA^er be associated in melancholy union with the
name of Whitehall, that palace ceased to be the abode of
the sovereign. Fanatical zealots in politics, and bigots in
religion laid their rude hands upon the paraphernalia of
royalty, years before they sharpened the axe for the
sacred head of its representative. On the 1 6th of July,
1645, the masque-house, built of fir and very tastefully
decorated under the superintendence of Inigo Jones, was
puUed down by order of the Plouse of Commons, and the
materials sold for fire-wood ; and exactly a week after
wards, a series of votes passed the same body, declaring
that all the pictures and statues in Whitehall, (which
they persisted in calling York Place, although the name
had become obsolete,) which were not superstitious,
should be sold for the.benefit of Ireland and the North;
but those Avhich were superstitious, such as images or

170 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
statues of saints, — the -Virgin Mary, or Jesus Christ —
should be forthwith burned. The readers who are
curious to learn more particularly the works of art that
were destroyed in pursuance of that order, and such as
were saved from the wreck, may refer to " Walpole's
Anecdotes of Painting," where they Avill be found duly
set forth.
The great event by which Whitehall is distinguished
is so well known, that it seems almost unnecessary to do
more than merely refer to it. However, those who do
not need to be informed, may be reminded, that here
Charles I. was executed on the 30th of January, 1649.
The reader who has gathered his knowledge of that event
from Hume — so long the most popular of EngUsh histo
rians — might imagine that the unfortunate king passed
his last days in Whitehall, and was merely brought from
the interior to the outside of that edifice to suffer. Such
is not the fact : the king spent the last three days of his
life in St. James's Palace ; and was brought from thence
through the Park to Whitehall on the fatal morning,
some hours before that fixed for the execution. It was
then, and not every night, as Hume has it, "that the
noise of the workmen employed in framing the scaffold,
and in other preparations, resounded in his ears." He
remained in his bedchamber engaged in acts of devotion
till the final hour arrived, when he was led along the
galleries to the banqueting-house, through the waU of
which a passage was broken to the scaffold. A man in
a closed visor stood ready to perform the office of execu
tioner. After the short and feeling address to the few.
persons who could hear him, and his affecting coUoquy'

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 171
with good Bishop Juxon, to Avhom he repUed, " I go from
a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no dis
turbance can have place," the King laid his head upon
the block, and the man in the visor struck it from his
body at one blow. Another man in a similar disguise
held it up immediately, all dripping with blood, and
exclaimed, " This is the head of a traitor."
The grief and astonishment of the nation when the
news of this event reached them were extreme; but
Hume forgets the severe dignity of history in his repre
sentation of the results of this grief He says that
" women cast forth the untimely fruit of their womb when
they learned it : that others fell into convulsions, or sank
into such a melancholy as attended them to their graves ;
and that some, unmindful of themselves, as though they
could not or would not survive their beloved prince,
suddenly feU down dead !" AU this was an exaggera
tion, which was not necessary to depict the real sorrow
of the nation, and no properly authenticated instance of
any one of these results can be brought forward. The
historian is more accurate, when he adds, " The very
pulpits were bedewed with unsuborned tears; those
pulpits which had formerly thundered out the most
violent imprecations and anathemas against him. And
all men united in their detestation of those hypocritical
parricides, who by sanctified pretences, had so long dis
guised their treason, and in this last act of iniquity had
thrown an indelible stain upon the nation."
Cromwell next inhabited the palace of Whitehall,
where a few months after the execution of the king, he
was to be found constantly preaching to the people. His

172 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
sermons sometimes were three hours long. Such was the
length of that which he delivered in WhitehaU pulpit on
the 16th of July, after the King's death, in Avhich he
hypocritically prayed " that God would take from off his
shoulders the government of this mighty nation, as it
was a burden too grievous to be borne."
With all his fanaticism and bigotry, CromweU was not
such an enemy to the arts, as the men with Avhom he
had all his life acted. He exerted himself to save many
of the pictures and statues in Whitehall, and bought
back many of the late King's coUection, which had been
sold by order of the Parliament, including, among others,
those grand specimens of the genius of Raphael, which,
under the name of the Cartoons, are known all over the
civilized world, and which now adorn the royal gallery of
Hampton Court.
Evelyn, who visited Whitehall in the time of Crom
well, relates in his " Diary," under the date of the 11th of
February, 1656, that he found Whitehall, where of late
years he had not been, very glorious and weU-furnished
as far as he dared to go, and was glad to find that the
rare piece of Henry VII., done on the waUs of the King's
privy-chamber, had not been much defaced.
Many remarkable events happened in Whitehall during
the time of Cromwell. After the dissolution of the
Long ParUament, by that grand master-stroke which
showed the man of genius, he issued his letters of sum
mons to about one hundred and forty persons, to appear
at Whitehall on the 4th of July, 1652, to take upon
them the administration of the government. On the
day appointed one hundred and tAventy persons, who

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 173
Avere afterwards called the Barebones Parliament, met in
the Council Chamber, to whom Cromwell declared that
they had " a clear call" to assume the supreme authority
of the Commonwealth. They held but this one meeting
in WhitehaU, and adjourned the next day to the Parlia
ment House, where they sat about six months, when it
was moved that their sitting any longer Avould not be
for the good of the Commonwealth. The Speaker and
many of the members then proceeded to WhitehaU, Avhere
they delivered their resignation in writing to the Pr-o-
tector. A few of the members Avho refused to resign,
continued to sit in the house, on the pretence that they
were " seeking the Lord," but being unceremoniously
turned out by Colonel White, who told them Avith a con
temptuous " pish !" that the Lord had not been within
those walls for twelve years, they made a virtue of ne
cessity, and proceeded after their brethren to Whitehall.
It was from WhitehaU that CromweU tAvice proceeded
to the Chancery Court in Westminster Hall, to be so
lemnly sworn into office as Lord Protector of the realm ;
the first time on the 16th of December, 1653, and the
second on the 26th of June, 1657. Having taken the
oath, and subscribed the parchment which set forth his
powers, he sat down covered, in the chair of state;
received the broad seal of England from the Commis
sioners, and the sword of state of the city of London
from the hands of the Lord Mayor, to Avhom, according
to royal custom, he again returned it. He then returned
with a grand procession to WhitehaU, the Lord Mayor
bareheaded carrying the sword before him.
Seven weeks before the last ceremony of this kind.

174 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
another remarkable scene had happened within the pre
cincts of Whitehall. Cromwell summoned the Parlia
ment to meet him in the Banqueting House, to whom he
announced his solemn determination not to accept the
title of King — not, however, before he had weU weighed
the danger he escaped, by refusing this dignity, which
if circumstantial evidence can ever be believed at all, he
was most anxious to assume.
Cromwell expired in Whitehall on the 3rd of Sep
tember, 1658, in the midst of one of the most fearful
hurricanes that had been remembered for many years in
England, a circumstance which alike gave occasion for
the boasting of the republicans, and the sneers of the
royalists. "Nature was convulsed, the very elements
were in grief at the death of so great a man," exclaimed
his friends; while his enemies would have it that the
storm was the work of the devil, who had ridden on its
wings to carry off the soul of Oliver to the infernal
regions. Richard Cromwell, during his brief season of nominal
power, resided in Whitehall; and when his career was
ended, received notice to quit it within six days, with an
allowance of 20,000/. to pay off his debts. General
Monk became the next occupier, and kept the place
warm till Charles II. arrived. His restored Majesty
received the assembled Lords and Commons at WhitehaU.
On the meeting of his second Parliament, previous to the
arrival of his queen, he introduced a passage into his
speech, from which ft would appear that the state of
Whitehall and the street adjacent was anything but
comfortable as regarded paving. " The mention of my

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 175
wife's arrival," said His Majesty, " reminds me to desire
you to put that compUment upon her, that her entrance
into the town may be with more decency than the ways
will now suffer it to be ; and for that purpose I pray you
would quickly despatch and pass such laws as are before
you, in order to the amending of those ways, in order
that she may not find WhitehaU surrounded with
water." The scenes of gaiety that Whitehall witnessed in the
days of EUzabeth and James I. were never to be revived.
Charles II. kept a merry court, but it wanted the refine
ment of Elizabeth's and the heartiness of James's. " AU
its precincts," says Evelyn, " were fiUed with lewd crea
tures," who consumed his substance and scandalized his
reign. The Duchess of Portsmouth had apartments
aUotted to her far more splendid than the queen's,
which, according to Evelyn's account, were not more
richly furnished than those of a private gentlewoman.
Those of the Duchess had been thrice puUed down, and
as often rebmlt, to please her expensive whims, and were
hung with the most exquisite and costly tapestry that
could be procured in Europe, and furnished with cabinets,
screens, vases, table-stands, chimney-furniture, sconces,
branches, pendule clocks, all of massive gold and silver,
besides many valuable paintings, which had been taken
out of the queen's rooms to adorn hers.
Charles died in this palace of an apoplectic fit, on the
1st of February, 1685. He was in his usual good health
six days before his death. Evelyn, writing the day
after, recaUed to his memory the scene he had witnessed
in the royal apartments of WhitehaU so shortly before

176 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the king was reduced, by the touch of death, to an
equality with the beggar, " I can never forget," says he,
"the inexpressible luxury and profaneness, gaming, and
all dissoluteness, and, as it were, total forgetfulness of
God, (it being Sunday evening,) which this day se'nnight
I was witness of; the king sitting and toying with his
concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, Mazarine, &c. ; a
French boy singing love-songs in that glorious gaUery,
while about twenty of the great courtiers and other disso
lute persons were at basset, round a large table, a bank
of at least 2000/. in gold before them; upon which two
gentlemen who were with me held up their hands in
astonishment. Six days after, all was in the dust!"
James IL, during his short occupancy of Whitehall,
made some changes in the buildings; chiefly in those set
apart for the purposes of religion, which he rendered
more convenient for the performance of the Romish
ritual. He also commenced a new range of buildings by
the water-side, near the place where Richmond Terrace
now stands, including a chapel and apartments for his
queen, Mary D'Este. " The embroidery of the queen's
bed," says Evelyn, "cost 3000/., and the carving about the
chimney-piece, by Grinlyn Gibbons, was incomparable."
Yet the queen did not long enjoy this magnificence; her
husband soon lost his kingdom for a mass ; and one cold
bitter December night, amid a furious storm of wind and
rain, Mary D'Este was obUged to take her infant in her
arms, wrap a cloak around her, and be rowed across the
Thames in an open boat, and make her escape from
England. This was on the 6th of December, 1688;
and on the 1 7th the king quitted the same palace and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 177
his throne for ever. On the 13th of February following,
the Prince and Princess of Orange arrived, and took
possession of the royal apartments, and on the foUoAving
day were proclaimed King and Queen of England.
With the male line of the Stuarts ended the glories of
Whitehall; the palace, which had seen much of their
profusion, their debauchery, their faithlessness, and their
incapacity, did not last long after them. On the 10th
of April, 1691, a fire broke out in the apartments for
merly occupied by the Duchess of Portsmouth, which
burned down all that range of buildings to the Avater-
side, and all those over the large stone gallery. They
were never rebuilt ; and another conflagration, more
extensive, which broke out about seven years afterwards,
completed the ruin the first had begun. The whole of
the palace, with the exception of the Banqueting House
that still remains, some inferior offices, and the lodgings
of some of the nobility, fell a prey to the flames. There
were burnt, besides the royal apartments, about one
hundred and fifty houses, inhabited by the officers of the
court and others, and twenty were blown up by gun
powder to prevent further damage. Sir Christopher
Wren had apartments in the palace, in right of his office
of Surveyor-General, which were burnt with the rest.
Sir Christopher was very active in his exertions to save
the palace, and when that became hopeless, the valuable
pictures and works of art which it contained. Many of
them were consumed, some trampled on and destroyed'
in the confusion, and a considerable number stolen by
the crowd.
George I, converted the Banqueting House, sole rera-
VOL. I, N

178 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
nant of former splendour, into a chapel, and granted a
stipend of 30/, yearly to twelve clergymen, taken equaUy
from the two Universities, who officiate each a month
in turns. The garrison of the Horse Guards attend every
Sunday. The site of the ancient palace is now occupied by the
district knoAvn as Scotland Yard and the several man
sions in the Privy Gardens, WhitehaU Place, and Rich
mond Terrace on the river side of the pubUc street, and
includes the houses of the Earl of Liverpool, Sir Robert
Peel, the Duke of Buccleuch, the Marquis of AUsa, the
Earl of Harrington, the Earl of Malmesbury, the Earl
of Selkirk, Lord HoAvick, Lord James Stuart, and Lord
Henley. The Horse Guards occupies the site of the
old Tilt Yard, erected by Henry VIIL, which was
a long, enclosed space, extending from the Admiralty
to the commencement of the Treasury, and memorable
as the scene of the tournaments and pageants of Henry
and Elizabeth, to which aUusion has afready been made.
The Horse Guards, though far from exhibiting a
specimen of pure architecture, is stiU, in its front to the
Parade, imposing, both from its extent and the exceUent
preservation of its stone. It is the work of Nardy, the
same architect to whom, as already mentioned, we owe
the front of Earl Spencer's mansion in the Green Park.
The lowness of the arch in the centre has not escaped
animadversion; and when it is considered that it forms
the grand entrance to the park, through Avhich the
sovereign has (untU very recently) been always accus
tomed to pass in his way to ParUament, it is to be
lamented that a greater elevation could not be given to

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 179
it. There is a satirical print of the state-coach passing
under it, where the coachman's head is in evident danger
of coming in coUision with the key-stone.
Melbourne House, adjoining the Horse Guards, was
buUt by Payne, the architect, for Sir Matthew Feather-
stonehaugh. It was for many years inhabited by General
Amherst, and afterwards by Frederick Duke of York,
who exchanged it with the late Lord Melbourne for his
house in PiccadUly. The Duke of York made consider
able improvements in it under the superintendence of
HoUand the architect, who built a new front to it, and
the dome portico across the street. It is now in
habited by Lady Dover. A few yards south of it, an
ciently stood the gate said to have been designed by
Hans Holbein for Henry VIIL, (engraved by G. Vertue,
and published by the Society of Antiquaries). It was
probably from the window of this gate that Queen
Mary, in the year 1553, commanded her Gentlemen
Pensioners to stand by her, when Sir Thomas Wyatt
was expected to seize the palace. A medal was struck
upon Her Majesty's' escape. — See " Evelyn's Numismata,"
p, 92, The offices of the Treasury are contiguous. The old
grey remnant of a building which forms a part of the
suite, is supposed to be the only remaining portion of
Wolsey's original mansion of York Place. The Park
front that reaches to the extremity of Downing Street,
with which there is communication leading to the Park
by a low arched passage, was buUt from the design of
Kent, and consists of three stories, of the Tuscan, Doric,
and Ionic styles of architecture. The new building,
N 2

180 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
caUed the Council Office, facing Whitehall, was built in
1826, from the design of Sir John Soane.
These buUdings are on the site of the ancient Cock
pit, formed for the amusement of Henry VIIL ; a brutal
amusement, Avhich Avas long considered, but unjustly so,
to be peculiarly EngUsh. Admiral M'Bride, a brave
sailor of the old school, constantly kept game-cocks on
board his ship, and, on the morning of an action, endea
voured, and that successfully, to animate his men by the
spectacle of a cock-fight between decks. Besides the Royal
Cock-pit at WhitehaU there Avere two others, one in Drury
Lane and the other in Jewin Street. Queen Elizabeth
frequently enjoyed the diversion, as well as the rougher
and more sanguinary one of buU-baiting. Roger Ascham,
her secretary for the Latin tongue, was also partial to it,
as appears from Abraham Dacre's " Annals of Queen
Elizabeth," and was frequently to be seen in the Royal
Cock-pit at "Whitehall. James I. was also addicted to the
sport, which continued to be encouraged by the Court
untU Oliver Cromwell and his party began to feel their
power, and it was prohibited by him in 1654. It revived
again at the Restoration, and the Cock-pit Avas used for
its former purposes, until it was destroyed by fire with
the rest of WhitehaU. The sport is still popular in
England, but comparatively rare to what it used to be,
on account of its iUegality.
Turning noAV to the right, Ave pass up a dingy, shabby,
solitary street, whose name is famous all over Europe,
and Avhich a stranger from the Continent, on his first
arrival in London, expects to be the grandest street in
this mighty metropolis. He is miserably disappointed in

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 181
DoAvning Street, for instead of a magnificent range of
public offices, he sees some mean-looking houses, and a
pavement Avhich seems almost deserted, except by a sen
tinel, who Avalks his melancholy beat up and doAvn by the
door of the Foreign Office. He thinks there must be
some mistake, and inquires of the sentinel, and hears
that he is indeed in Downing Street, the very seat of the
power of England ; that that silent house on his left
hand, with the sentry-box at the door, is the Foreign
Office, where ministers have sat and controled the des
tinies of Europe, and that the equally mean, deserted-
looking house, at the further extremity, is the Colonial
Office, where the destinies of a round of colonies, upon
which the " sun never sets," are regulated.
UntU the year 1839, Downing Street looked even more
miserable than now. A dirty public-house stood at the
corner, and there was a row of third-rate lodging-houses
between that and the Foreign Office, which have now
been all removed; preparatory to the erection of a
handsome suite of public offices.
Leaving the modern Parliament Street, which has but
few reminiscences to induce us to linger on its broad
pavement, we prefer to pass along to Westminster Abbey,
and the Houses of the Legislature, by the more ancient
thoroughfare of King Street ; which, however unpromis
ing its outward appearance, has more recollections of
interest than its successful and more flaunting rival. It
was through King Street that Elizabeth, and James, and
Charles I. used to make their way to the Houses of Par
liament ; and by the same road the stern old republicans
of the days of Oliver Cromwell proceeded to the same

182 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
place, some on foot and some on horseback. When car
riages became common, and the members began to use
them. King Street was found too narrow, and when
WhitehaU Palace was burned down, a broader thorough
fare was made from Charing Cross for the convenience of
those vehicles.
CromweU, as already mentioned, had a house in King
Street before he went to Ireland, as wUl appear from the
foUoAving extract from the " Mercurius Pragmaticus," No.
13, from Tuesday, July 10th, to Tuesday, July I7th,
1649. The editor, in page 1427, speaking of Oliver,
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, says : —
" Who this afternoone, when the House was rising, and had ad
journed untill the Thursday following, did take his leave of Master
Speaker and all the members then present, and taking horse at his
house in King Street, he advanced towards Winsor, it being his
way towards Ireland, attended with a retinue of gallant men for
his life-guard ; the trumpets sounding all the way as they marched
through the streets."
In No. 225 of the "Moderate InteUigencer," from
Thursday, July 5th, to Thursday, July 12th, 1649, ap
pears the foUowing relative to the same event : — "July 10.
" This evening, about 5 of the clock, the Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland began his journey, by the way of Windsore, and so to
Bristol; he went forth in that state and equipage as the like hath
hardly been seen, himselfe in a coach with six gallant Flanders'
mares, whitish-grey, divers coaches accompanying him, and very
many great officers of the army; his life-guard consisting of 80
gallant men, the meanest whereof a commander or esquire in stately
habit, with trumpets sounding almost to the shaking of Charing
Cross, had it been now standing. Of his life-guard many are
coUonels, and believe it, it's such a guard as is hardly to be
parallel'd in the world. The Lieutenant's colours are white and
blue."

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 183
In Coles' MSS. in the British Museum, vol. xxxiii., p.
38, there is the following acknowledgment: —
"A letter of Cromwell's to his wife, lent to me by Mr. Lort
Jany. 19th, 1772, but from what authority he copied it I forgot to
jBuquire. It appears to have been written to his wife in King
Street.
" My Dearest,
" I'have not leisure to write much; but I could chide thee, that in
many of thy letters thou writest to me, that I should not be un
mindful of thee and thy little ones. Truly, if I love you not too
well, I think I err not on the other hand much.
" Thou art dearer to me than any creature : let that suffice. The
Lord hath shewed us an exceeding mercy ; who can tell how great
it is ! My weak faith hath been upheld ; I have been in my inward
man marvellously supported, though I assure +hee I grow an old
man, and feel infirmities of age marvellously stealing upon me.
Would my corruptions did as fast decrease ! Pray on my behalf in
the latter respect. The particulars of our late success, Harry Vane
or Gil. Pickering will impart to thee. My love to all dear friends.
Thine, " 0. Cbomwell.
"Dunbar, the 4th of Sept., 1650."
King Street can boast other illustrious inhabitants,
among whom stands first Edmund Spenser, a dear name
in English literature. After his return from Ireland, he
took lodgings here, probably that he might be near the
Court, from which he stUl expected the reward which his
genius and virtues entitled him to. The site of the house
is not known, or many a poetical pUgrim would have paid
the tribute of a reverential visit to the spot, more espe
ciaUy hallowed as the place where the poet died.
Another inhabitant of King Street whose residence in
it deserves to be particularly recorded, was the poet and
statesman SackvUle, Lord Buckhurst and Earl of Dorset,
ancestor of that Earl of Dorset, who was the author of
that well-known song, " To aU you ladies now at land,"

184 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
and patron of Prior and other wits of that time, Dorset
the elder is chiefly known as a poet for his " Induction
to the Mirror for Magistrates," He died suddenly as he
was attending a meeting of the Privy Council at White
hall, on the 19th of AprU, 1608, He was in the eighty-
first year of his age.
Another poet had lodgings in King Street at a later
period, — Carew, the favourite of his contemporaries, and
author of " Coelum Britannicum," a masque, written for
Charles I., and one of the very few performed at White
hall during that prince's reign. He was also the author
of many elegant songs, among which the one beginning —
" Know, Celia, since thou art so proud,
'Twas I that gaA'e thee thy renown;"
the dispute " between Celia's lips and eyes," and a third,
beginning — " He that loves a rosy cheek.
Or a coral lip admires,"
are now old familiar friends to every reader of taste.
Pope has classed Carew among the mob of gentlemen
who Avrote with ease ; but we may add a sentence which,
without disputing Pope's authority, AviU give a wholly
different complexion to his judgment, "he wrote with
ease, but he wrote well."
Dr. Anderson, in his edition of the Poets, records him
as one of the most deserving wits about the Court of
Charles I. Phillips says he was considered " among the
chiefest of his time for delicacy of Avit and poetic fancy ;"
and Clarendon pronounces him to have been "of a pleasant
and facetious Avit, and to have made many poems, espe
cially in the amorous Avay, which for the sharpness of the

IN THE STEEETS OP LONDON. 185
fancy, and the elegancy of the language in which this
fancy was spread, were at least equal, if not superior, to
any of that time." Ben Jonson, Dr. Donne, Thomas May,
and Sir John Suckling, frequently visited him in King
Street, and led a merry life Avith him. Davenant Avas
also his friend, and wrote some verses to him, in which
he represents all the lovers of England as wishing him
dead, who wrote love songs so Avell that no one else had
any chance of competing with him : —
" Upon my conscience, wheresoe'er thou diest,
Tho' in the black and mourning time of Lent,
There will be seen in King Street where thou liest.
More triumphs than in days of Parliament.
How glad and gaudy then will lovers be.
For every lover that can verses read,^
Hath b( n so injured by thy Muse and thee.
Ten tL, isand, thousand times he wished thee dead."
Carew was a gentleman of the Privy Chamber and
Sewer in Ordinary to King Charles I. He is supposed
to have died in 1639.
Bums meeting by chance in an old coUection with his
song beginning —
" Ask me why I send you here
This firstling of the infant year,"
was SO struck with its beauty, that he tried his OAvn hand
upon it, modernized it, and improved it, as he always did
with the old songs he condescended to retouch.
In Charles Street, leading from King Street on the
right, in the house, now No. 1 9, on the south-west corner
of Crown Court, and occupied as an eating-house, lived
that extraordinary negro, Ignatius Sancho, who was born
in 1729 on board a ship in the slave-trade. He Avas

186 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
butler to the Duke of Montague, and when he left service
gave his last shUling to see Garrick play " Richard III."
About 1773, he ventured to open a grocer's shop, by the
assistance of the Montague family. He died in 1780.
Garrick and Sterne used to visit him, and Mortimer, the
painter, frequently consulted him as to his pictures.
" God's image, though cut in ebony."
In a work entitled " Sancho's Letters, with Memoirs of
his Life," by Joseph JekyU, Esq., M.P., pubUshed Dec.
30th, 1802, there is a portrait of him engraved by Barto
lozzi after a picture by Gainsborough. The title is also
adorned with an engraving by the same artist. , The first
letter in the work is dated from Charles Street, Feb.
14th, 1768, in which he says, " My best half and San-
chonetta's are all well." Sterne concludes a letter
Avritten to him July 27th, 1776, " And so, good-hearted
Sancho, adieu!" In one of Sancho's letters to Miss I.,
dated from Charles Street, June 20th, 1775, he observes:
" This end of the town is fairly regatta mad, and the
prices they ask are only five shUUngs each seat. They
are building scaffoldings on Westminster Hall, and the
prayers of aU parties are now for a fine evening. May
your evenings be ever fair and mornings bright!" The
aUusion in this passage is to a grand regatta on the
Thames, between Westminster and Ranelagh Gardens; the
first exhibition of the kind that was ever known in Eng
land, and which, from its novelty, attracted vast crowds
of spectators. The next was given by the Duke of
Newcastle, on the 7th of August foUowing, at his seat
Oatlands, near Chertsey, which was attended by equal
multitudes.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 187
Arrived at the end of King Street, we come in sight
of the most classical ground in aU England — the spot
where the Legislature of this great empire has assembled
for ages — where its sovereigns have been crowned, and
where the ashes of most of them moulder with those of
the most Ulustrious of their subjects — the great statesmen,
the great poets, the great captains, the great philoso
phers, and the great divines, who have successively
appeared to adorn the name of Britain, Its memories
are so many, that we must linger among them with a
fond delay, convinced that in no other equal space of
ground, even in ancient Greece itself could we find the
association of so many choice spirits and so many great
events, to haUow each foot of it.
Proceeding first to the venerable Abbey — claiming first
notice, not only from its age, but for its importance — we
shaU cross over to its great door, and enter it by the way
of kings, and not sneak into it, as we are obliged to do
every day, by the narrow porch of Poet's Corner. As
we traverse the space now occupied by enclosures or
squares, by the Westminster Hospital and the West
minster Sessions House, we must not forget that we
stand on the site of the ancient Sanctuary, which was
puUed down in the year 1750 to make room for a
market-house. This was one of the many places that
formerly existed in London where criminals might find a
temporary refuge from the law — a practice which was far
from being so absurd as Pennant, following in the wake
of other writers, has represented it. In times when
every man went armed — when feuds were of hourly
occurrence in the streets — when the age had not yet

188 AN ANTIQUARIAN EAMBLE
learned the true superiority of right over might, and
when private revenge too often usurped the functions of
justice, it was essential that there shoiUd be some places
Avhither the homicide might flee, and find refuge and
protection until the violence of angry passions had sub
sided, and there Avas a chance of a fair trial for him.
In this sanctuary, Elizabeth Grey, Queen of Ed-
Avard IV., took refuge, when the victorious Warwick was
marching to London to dethrone her husband and restore
Henry VI. She was pregnant at the time with the
young Prince Edward, afterwards murdered with his
brother in the Tower, by order of the bloody Gloucester.
Shakspeare, in the third part of " Henry VI.," thus
makes the unhappy queen aUude to her flight, in an
swer to Lord Rivers, who asks what has become of
Warwick : —
" I am informed that he comes towards London,
To set the crown once more on Henry's head;
Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends must down.
But to prevent the tyrant's violence,
(For, trust not him that hath once broken faith,)
I'll hence forthwith into the Sanctuary,
To save at least the heir of Edward's right.
There shall I rest secure from force and fraud.
Come, therefore, let us fly, while we may fly,
If Warwick take us, we are sure to die."
The Queen succeeded in reaching the sanctuary, where
she remained till her chUd was born, and her husband
again restored to that throne where Henry VI. sat after
his restoration for so short a period. After the death
of EdAvard, when the ambition of Gloucester — foiled as
long as her children lived, rendered her position most

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 189
insecure — she fled again to the sanctuary with her
younger son, the Duke of York, the elder being already
in the power of Gloucester, events thus commemorated
in the magic page of Shakspeare. EUzabeth, embracing
her son, exclaims —
" Ah me, I see the ruin of my house :
The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind ;
Insulting tyranny begins to jut
Upon the innocent and aweless throne.
Welcome destruction, blood, and massacre !
I see, as in a map, the end of all.
Come, come my boy, we will to sanctuary."
The Archbishop of York replies —
" My gracious lady, go,
And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace
The seal I keep ; and so betide to me.
As well I tender you and all of yours.
Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.''
They Avere not allowed to remain long in security.
The prelate who had led them thither was mainly instru
mental in inducing the poor unhappy mother, by false
promises, to deUver up her son. Shakspeare, true to
history, thus ends the sad story in this colloquy between
the Archbishop, who was also Cardinal, and Gloucester's
instrument, the Duke of Buckingham :—
Buckingham. —
" Lord Cardinal, will your Grace
" Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?
If she deny. Lord Hastings, go with him.
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
Cardinal. —
" My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
Can from his ijiother win the Duke of York,

190 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Anon expect him here ; but if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary ! Not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.
Buckingham. —
" You are too senseless-obstinate, my Lord,
Too ceremonious and traditional;
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserved the place ;
This prince hath neither claimed it nor deserved it.
Therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it.
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there.
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary-men;
But sanctuary-children, ne'er till now.
Cardinal. —
" My Lord, you shall o'errule my mind for once.
Come on. Lord Hastings, wiU you go with mel
Hastings. —
" I go, my Lord.''
They succeeded too weU ; not by force, but by special
pleading and false words, and the result was, that the
child was smothered with his brother in the Tower, in a
manner that every Englishman who can read is ac
quainted with, and Ungers upon as one of the saddest,
most interesting, and most affecting events of EngUsh
history. This Sanctuary was a church in the form of a cross,
buUt very strongly of stone; and Dr. Stukely, who
remembered it prior to its demoUtion in 1750, describes
it as of vast strength, and with great difficulty puUed
down. The reader who wishes for more particulars
about it, wiU find them in Dr. Stukely's account, in the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 191
first volume of the " Arch^ologia," page 39, Upon the
site of it was built a market-house, which, after standing
for about fifty years, became disused and unprofitable,
and it was pulled down to make way for the GuildhaU
for the city of Westminster,
Upon the old market-place of Westminster, which
stood nearer towards the middle of Charles Street, an
event occurred in the reign of Elizabeth, which shows
the smaU degree of liberty of speech and writing enjoyed
in that age, and under that enlightened sovereign. The
Duke of Anjou, for whose ambassador she instituted the
masques and reveUings already described at sufficient
length in our account of the palace of WhitehaU, after
wards came privately into England to pay his court to
her. Being a papist, the proposed match was not con
sidered with much favour by the people, who stiU remem
bered, as but of recent occurrence, the Smithfield burnings
for heresy in the previous reign, and dreaded a renewal
of them should the Queen marry a prince of that religion.
Though the proposal never came to anything, Elizabeth
was very jealous whUe it was under consideration. One
John Stubbs, of Lincoln's Inn, a barrister, wrote a tract
against the match, thus intituled — " The Discoverye of a
gaping gulphe, whereinto Englande is like to be swal
lowed, by another French marriage, if the Lord forbid
not the banns, by letting her Majestye see the sin and
punishment thereof" In this tract, printed by one
Singleton, and circulated by a servant named Robert
Page, whom Stubbs employed, the visit of the prince
¦was represented as an unmanlike, unprincelike, needy,
French kind of wooing; and he and his family were

192 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
stated to be alike enemies of the gospel, and tyrants and
oppressors in their hearts. These and other expressions
gave great offence to the Queen ; and Stubbs the writer,
and Page the publisher, were forthwith arrested and
brought to trial, under an act against seditious libels,
made in the reign of Mary, for " attempting to draw her
Highness's good and dutiful subjects into a suspicion and
mishking of her Majesty's actions, as though the same
tended to the prejudice of the realm, and subversion of
the state of true religion," Both the prisoners were found
guUty, and condemned to have their right hands cut off
in the market-place of Westminster.
Both Stubbs and Page conducted themselves with
great fortitude at the place of punishment, as appears
from the account of Camden, who was a spectator of the
cruel scene. Stubbs, after his condemnation, wrote a
very eloquent and affecting letter to the Queen, acknow
ledging his guilt, and praying for the "pardon of his
hand," " that he might ever bear it about with him whUe
he Uved, as an evident gaze to aU the world of her prince
like, ladyUke, Christian, free mercy towards him, provok
ing others, as it were, by its living testimony, to deserve
weU of her by well-doing, who was so ready to do well
by one who was undeserving, and to be graciously merci
ful to so grievous an offender." He concluded by praying,
that the Lord God might cut off both their hands and
shorten their arms, who did not with all their hearts pray
for her everlasting life in heaven after her godly, long,
happy, honourable, healthful, and joyful life upon earth.
This petition was unheeded, and the sentence was carried
into effect. Stubbs made a speech upon the scaffold full

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 193
of eloquence and manly feeling; and putting his hand
upon the block, where the executioner. Math a butcher's
cleaver and a mallet, was Avaiting, he fell on his knees,
and prayed to the people — " Pray for me, noAv my cala
mity is at hand!" Camden says that as soon as his
hand was off, he pulled off his cap with his left hand,
waA^ed it in the air, and exclaimed — " God save tlic
Queen !" He then fainted away, and Avas removed.
The multitude did not join in his shout. Camden says
they were deeply silent, either from horror at this new
and unusual punishment, or else out of commiseration
towards the man, who was of honest and unblameable
repute, or else out of sympathy for his offence, for the
marriage was very unpopular. Page behaved himself
even more nobly than his master. His words upon the
scaffold were — " I take God to witness, that knoweth the
hearts of all men, that I am sorry I have offended her
Majesty, so I did never mean harm to her Highness's
person, crown, or dignity, but have been as true a subject
as any in England to the best of my ability." Then
holding up his right hand, he said, " This hand did I put
to the plough, and got ray living by it many years. If
it had pleased her Highness to have pardoned it, and to
have taken my left hand or my life, she would have dealt
more favourably with me, for now I have no means to
live; but God, which is the Father of us aU, wUl provide
for me. I beseech you aU to pray for me, that I may
take this punishment patiently." He then laid his hand
upon the block, and implored the executioner to do his
work effectually at one blow. .The man, however,
daunted perhaps, and unnerved by the inflexible courage
VOL, I, o

194 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
of his victim, had to strike twice before the hand was
severed. Page, heroic even in this agony, lifted up the
stump, and pointing with his left hand to his lost member,
exclaimed — " I have left there the hand of a true EngUsh-
man!" and so he went from the scaffold, says the ac
count, " stoutlie and with great courage."
To the west of the Sanctuary stood the Almonry,
where the alms of the abbot and monks of Westminster
Avere formerly distributed. It is said that the first print
ing press ever known in England was used on this spot
by WiUiam Caxton in 1474, under the protection of the
Abbot of Westminster. The first Avork printed was, as
is weU known, that father of printed books — " The Game
and Play of the Chess." Most writers are agreed that
this great honour belongs to the city of Westminster,
though there is some dispute as to the exact site of the
printing-office ; but, as Pennant has remarked, all acknow
ledge that it was within the precincts of the Abbey.
The wide space between the back of Great George
Street on the north, and the Abbey on the south, and
between Westminster Hall on the east, and the West
minster Hospital on the west, was, until some years after
the beginning of the present century, a crowded district
covered with narrow streets and miserable houses. They
were aU swept away prior to 1810, by which means a
great improvement was effected, and the view of the
Abbey thrown open. The space thus cleared was for
many years known by the name of the "Desert of
Westminster." Before we enter the Abbey, let us pause for awhUe on
the outside, and narrate as succinctly as we can the

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON, 195
history of the venerable edifice from its foundation to the
present time. The spot on which it stands was originaUy
one of the most desolate in the neighbourhood of London,
surroimded on three sides by water, overgrown with
brambles, and known by the name of Thorney Island, A
church dedicated to St, Peter was founded on it in the
year 610, by Sebert, King of the Bast Saxons, on the
spot where, according to tradition, there formerly stood
a temple of ApoUo, erected by the Romans, and thrown
down by an earthquake in the fifth century, St. Peter
himself according to a Romish legend, came down from
Heaven to consecrate it, with a host of angels. The
night was dark and stormy, and the Saint missed his
way, and instead of descending upon Thorney Island,
alighted unluckily in Lambeth. It might be supposed
that a saint who had come so far would have had no
difficulty in getting across a river ; but, from the monkish
legend, it appears that he was reduced to great embarrass
ment. The heavenly choir who accompanied him flew
over with the greatest ease, but Peter was obUged to
wait untU he found a waterman, and in those days water
men were scarce, to row him across. He at last found
one Edric, a fisherman, who undertook the duty without
fee or reward, and he was safely landed on Thorney
Island. He directed Edric to wait for him tiU he came
back, and to take particular notice what he should see
in the church; Edric did so, and to his great wonder,
saw it lighted up immediately with a most glorious iUu-
mination, and heard the sound of angelic voices hymning
most heavenly music. He heard a solemn voice pro
nouncing the prayers of the Christian ritual, and aU the
0 2

196 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
ceremonies of the Mass. It lasted for about half an
hour, when the Ughts were suddenly extinguished, and
the stranger stood at his side, and demanded to be
rowed back again to Lambeth. The wondering fisherman
obeyed ; and in the voyage across Avas made fully sensible
of the heavenly character of his companion. St. Peter,
himself a fisherman, Avas revealed to the fisherman Edric,
whom he charged on the morrow to find Mellitus, the
Bishop of London, and tell him that the church needed
no further consecration, and that there would be found
in evidence of the supernatural visit, the chrism that
had been used in the ceremony, and the dripping of the
miraciUous Avax candles with which the edifice had been
iUuminated. As a reward to Edric for his trouble in
twice conveying him over the Thames, he directed him to
cast his nets into the river. Edric did so, and drew up
with great difficulty a miraculous draught of salmon.
" Present a tithe of them to the Church," said St. Peter,
" and as long as you continue to do so, you and your
successors shall never want for salmon." So saying, St,
Peter disappeared in a flood of glory.
This legend was religiously believed until the Reforma
tion, and a curious custom arose from it, which was
observed until the year 1382. On the anniversary of
the consecration of the Abbey, the fisherman had a right
to sit at the same table with the Prior, and he might
demand of the ceUarer, ale and bread ; and the cellarer
might take of his fish as much as he could grasp of
the tail with his four fingers only, holding his thumb
erect. St. Paul's Church having been founded about the same

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 197
time, by the same King Sebert, was knoAvn by the name
of the East, and that of St. Peter's by the name of the
West, Minster. The former name Avas shortly afterAvards
discontinued, but the latter remained, and gave name to
the great city that in the course of time was formed
around it. This church, Avhich was probably of wood,
was burned by the Danes, and restored by Edgar, at the
instigation of St. Dunstan, in the year 958. This build
ing, Avhich also appears to have been of Avood, was pulled
doAvn by Edward the Confessor, after it had stood less
than ninety years, and rebuilt with stone in a mag
nificent manner. It took eleven years to erect, and was
completed in 1066, a few months before WiUiam the
Norman invaded England.
This buUding was aUowed to stand for one hundred
and seventy nine years only, Avhen Henry III. resolved
to puU it down, and erect upon its site a church stUl
more magnificent in itself and endowed more richly than
its predecessors. The present Abbey was the result,
which was commenced by Henry III., 1245, and finished
in forty years, in the fourteenth year of Edward I., but
only as far as the end of the choir. Stow differs from
other authorities, and says the rebxulding Avas commenced
in the third year of Henry, and finished thus far in
sixty-six years.
Succeeding monarchs continued this work, but it made
smaU progress until the reign of Henry VII., when it
was finally completed by the erection of that most
elegant chapel which bears his name. The chapel of
Edward the Confessor, Avhere the early kings are buried,
havino- been AveU nigh fiUed with monuments prior to the

198 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
time of Henry VlL, that monarch determined to erect a
more magnificent mausoleum for his own famUy. The
chapel of the Virgin was puUed down to make room for
it, as also an adjacent tavern, knoAvn by the sign of
" the White Rose," and which, with other houses, appears
to have been buUt against the Abbey waUs, as we com
monly see to this day on some of the fine cathedrals on
the Continent. The architect was the famous Sfr Re
ginald Bray, and the foundation stone was laid by Islip,
Abbot of Westminster, on the 11th of February, 1503.
At the dissolution of the religious houses, the monks of
Westminster, headed by their Abbot, WiUiam Benson,
sm-rendered their monastery to the king, and Benson
became first Dean.
Westminster, formerly a burgh only, afterwards became
a city by its establishment as a bishoprick. Thomas
Thirleby was the first and last who enjoyed that dignity,
and on his translation to Norwich ia 1550, the see was
suppressed, but Westminster has ever since ranked as a
city, and the second in the empire.
It was in the contemplation of the proud Protector
Somerset to have puUed down Westminster Abbey and
St. Margaret's Church adjoining, and to take the ma
terials to buUd his own palace in the Strand. This was
rather too daring, but he actuaUy commenced the demoU
tion of St. Margaret's. The parishioners assembled in
great numbers, with arms, drove away the Protector's
workmen, and kept watch round this building for some
days to prevent any attack upon it. A few months
previously, the chm-ch of St. John's of Jerusalem, beyond
Smithfield, was undermined and blown up Avith gun-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 199
powder by Somerset's order; and the people of West
minster swore to die rather than suffer a similar sacrilege
in their city. Their valour, and. Pennant says, "the
bribe of fourteen manors," prevaUed upon the Protector
to desist, and the venerable Abbey and the small chutch
in its shadow were preserved.
Mary restored the abbot and monks of Westminster,
but they were aU expeUed in the reign of Elizabeth, and
Fakenham, their superior, confined for Ufe in Wisbeach
castle. In 1560, it was converted into a coUegiate
church, consisting of a dean and twelve secular canons,
thirty petty canons and other members, two school
masters and forty king's or queen's scholars, twelve alms
men, and many officers and servants. " This, however,"
as Pennant remarks, "does not seem to have been the
first foundation of the celebrated Westminster School.''
Stow, in his " Survey of London," quotes the words of
Abbot Ingulphus, who says, "he was educated here in
the reign of Edward the Confessor, and remembered
engaging in controversies with his queen, and receiving
presents from her in his boyish days."
In the year 1629 the Abbey had faUen into so ruinous
a state, that the most extensive repairs were found
necessary. Either from the hopelessness of obtaining a
parUamentary grant, or from his own abounding Ube-
rahty, the then Dean, Dr. WiUiams, afterwards Arch
bishop of York, undertook the repairs at his own private
cost, increased the Ubrary, and added to the number of
scholars on the foundation. During the period of the
OommonAvealth, the revenues of the Abbey were seized,
and the building itself sustained considerable injury

200 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
from the hands of the rude soldiery. All the articles of
gold and sUver were carried away, with other things of
smaUer value which happened to be portable, and the
usual services of the cathedral Avere discontinued. Early
in the next century, Sir Christopher Wren was employed
to restore the abbey, with a grant from the House
of Commons, and under his direction the two great
Avestern towers Avere completed. Sir Christopher was
for twenty-five years employed upon the Abbey, from
1698 to his death in 1723. It was his original plan
to have erected a lofty steeple, besides the toAvers.
The repairs were continued after Sir Christopher's
death; and in the reign of George II. additional sums
were gi-anted by ParUament for carrying on the works;
and from that time untU the present some renova
tion or other, or addition or improvement, has been
continuaUy going forward in this national edifice. A
handsome choir was erected at the close of the last cen
tury, under the direction and from the plans of Mr.
Keene, surveyor to the Abbey. A fire broke out on the
square tOAver on the roof on the 9th of July, 1803, which
did great damage to this newly-erected choir, and for a
time threatened the destruction of the whole edifice.
Some workmen who had been employed to repair the
leads on the roof carelessly left their portable furnace
unattended while they went to their dinner at one
o'clock. About two o'clock, the vergers discovered that
the flat roof underneath, which is supported by braces of
timber and plaster, curiously gift, was in flames. The
moften lead from the roof feU plentifully on to the choir,
with pieces of biu-ning Avood, and did great damage. A

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 201
vast concourse of persons immediately assembled, all
anxious to lend their aid in rescuing the venerable Abbey
from the ruin that menaced it, and brought water in
buckets from the Thames to extinguish the flakes as they
fell. Owing to the great height of the roof nothing
could be done to stop the progress of the flames in that
quarter, until the arrival of the engines, and it was four
hours before all 'danger was over. A contemporary ac
count of the accident represents the concourse of people
as greater than ever was drawn together by any fire in
London. Troops of horse were stationed at the prin
cipal avenues to preserve order, and see that the very
eagerness of the crowd to render assistance did not
defeat its own object by causing confusion. The Dukes
of Cumberland and Gloucester were present, and used
great exertions. The damage done Avas considerable, and
repaired at the expense of the Dean and Chapter. Par
Uament, a short time afterwards, voted further sums for the
renovation of Henry the Seventh's chapel, which has been
finally completed within tlie last ten years, and remains
not only a magnificent monument of the liberality of its
founder and the genius of its builder, but of the skiU and
judgment of those who were entrusted Avith the task of
restoring it.
And thus have we traced the mere outAvard history of
its waUs. As Ave enter the sacred, edifice a series of
histories even more intimately connected Avith its name
open themselves out before us — reminiscences of kings
and heroes, and poets and statesmen — of coronations and
funerals, and all the pomp of the dead and living, of
Avhich this building has witnessed more than any other in

202 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
this realm. Like Addison, we delight to walk in the
Abbey and reflect upon its history, and often consider,
as he did, " what innumerable multitudes of people lie
confused together under the pavement of that ancient
cathedral — ^how men and women, friends and enemies,
priests and soldiers, monks and prebendaries, are crum
bled amongst one another, and blended together in the
same common mass — ^how beauty, strength, and youth,
with old age, weakness, and deformity, Ue undistinguished
in the same promiscuous heap of matter." The humblest
vUlage burial-place can inspire the poet or philosopher
with thoughts of a noble melancholy ; but hoAV much
grander and more solemn the reflections that may be
excited in the same heart by the last abode of the mor
tality of kings. How trite the subject, yet how new —
how often dwelt upon, yet how fuU of ever-fresh material
for lessons of wisdom — ^how common and famUiar, yet
how elevating and subUme ! But of all the delightful
passages that the round of English literature affords in
connexion with om- subject, none are so beautiful as the
reflections of Addison in the " Spectator," part of which
we have already quoted. They are known to most
readers, but those who know them best wiU be the best
pleased to meet with them again. "I have left," said
the essayist, " this repository of our English kings for the
contemplation of another day, when I shall find my mind
disposed for so serious an amusement. I know that
entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark and
dismal thoughts in timorous minds and gloomy imagina
tions ; but for my own part, though I am always serious,
I do not know what it is to be melancholy, and can

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 203
therefore take a vieAv of nature in her deep and solemn
scenes with the same pleasure as in her most gay and
delightftil ones. By this means I can improve myself
Avith those objects which others consider with terror.
When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion
of envy dies within me ; when I read the epitaphs of the
beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet
with the grief of parents upon a tomb-stone, my heart
melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the
parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for
those whom we must quickly foUow. When I see kings
lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival
Avits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided
the world Avith their contests and disputes, I reflect with
sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, fac
tions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several
dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday and
some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day
when we shaU aU of us be contemporaries and make our
appearance together." It is to be regretted that the
promise conveyed at the commencement of this fine
passage was not performed, and that Addison never
favoured the world with his own further reflections upon
this "reposftory of kings." His visit afterwards Avith
Sir Roger de Coveriey, in which the good knight's com
ments were aUowed to take the place of his own, is but a
poor substitute, and sadly disappoints the expectations
he had raised. But after Addison, who shaU moralize 1
Certainly, not we. We shaU therefore walk through this
solemn buUding, classifying for the reader, as we pass, the
names of the illustrious dead who are either buried within.

204 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
or whose monuments are erected within, giving no note
or comment Avhich might draw upon our presumptuous
pen comparisons which could not fail to be to its dis
advantage. And first, even in death as they were in life, let the
royal personages be considered. There are the tombs of
Edward the Confessor and his Queen Editha ; of Ma
tilda, the benevolent Queen of Henry I. ; of Henry III. ;
of the warlike Edward I., and his fondly beloved wife
Eleanor; of EdAvard III., and his queen Philippa; of
Richard IL, and his queen Anne, Avho first taught the
English ladies the use of the side-saddle; of Margaret
Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby, mother of
a race of kings; of Henry VII., and his queen Elizabeth;
of Edward V. and the Duke of York, the two poor
princes smothered in the Tower ; of Queen Elizabeth a,nd
her luckless rival, Mary Queen of Scots ; of Charles II. ;
of William III. and Queen Mary; and of Queen Anne
and Prince George of Denmark, the last royal person
ages interred within these waUs.
Mingling their dust with that of these inheritors of
thrones, lie the great statesmen whose counsels upheld
them, and one or two Avhose counsels helped to undermine
them. Villiers, who fell by the assassin's hand, and
Halifax ; Chatham, who died in the performance of his
duty, and M'hose dying eloquence was never surpassed by
living man ; Mansfield, who has left a fame as spotless,
but not so briUiant ; the two unfortunates, Percival and
Londonderry, the one dying by the assassin's hand and
the other by his own ; Grattan, Canning, Sheridan, and
WUberforce ; and stiU greater names, the mighty rivals.

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 205
Fox and Pitt, sleeping side by side, and each on his
monument claiming and receiving the respect and admi
ration of every man who is proud of the name of Briton.
After these come the men Avho served their country, if
not Avith the sage counsel and the eloquent tongue, with
the undaunted heart and strong arm. Monk who restored
the monarchy, and those who fought for it by sea
and land, — Oloudesley Shovel, Ligonier, Howe, Warren,
Kemperfeldt, Wolfe, Eyre Coote, and others as worthy.
And then the poets in their exclusive corner : — old
father Chaucer, the divine Spenser, rare Ben Jonson,
the witty Butler, the vigorous Dryden, the chaste Addi
son, the elegant Gay, the tender Thomson, the melancholy
Gray, the classic Goldsmith, the pious Watts, with Prior,
Rowe, Mason, Congreve, Johnson, and others of lesser
note. And besides these, in various parts of the Abbey
are the monuments to other great men, the heroes whom
peace produces as plentifuUy as war ; — Newton, who dis
covered new Avorlds, and made us better acquainted with
the laws which maintain the old; Watt, than whom no
man ever bestowed more solid advantages upon a country ;
and painters, musicians, actors, antiquaries, and learned
men innumerable, including the names of Handel, Garrick,
Busby, Burney, Kemble, Arnold, Kneller, Banks, Camden,
and Isaac Barrow.
The Abbey contains eleven chapels, named St. An
drew's, St. Michael's, St. John Evangelist's, IsUp's, St.
John Baptist's, St. Paul's, Henry Vth's., St. Nicholas's,
St. Edmund's, St. Benedict's, and Henry Vllth's.
Besides the tombs we have mentioned, there are various
objects of interest in the Abbey, which receive their due

206 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
share of admiration from aU visitors : the monument to
the memory of the lady who died of a pricked finger;
the fine piece of sculpture by Roubillac, erected in me
mory of Lady Nightingale ; the sword of King Edward I. ;
the wax figures of VUliers, Duke of Buckingham, Queen
EUzabeth, and others ; and, greatest curiosity of aU, the
coronation-stone, rough, shapeless, dirty, but which it is
impossible to behold without a certain feeling of respect
and awe. It is hard to say how many of the ancient
monarchs of Scotland sat upon it to be crowned, ere it
was brought away in triumph from Scone by the victorious
Edward. This monarch verUy believed, as the Scotch
did, that it was the veritable stone that served the patri
arch Jacob for a pUlow, when he dreamed that mag
nificent dream, and saw aU the angels descend from
heaven as by a ladder. It was the greatest trophy King
Edward could carry away, and the loss of it struck sore
terror into the heart of Caledonia. Since that time,
every succeeding monarch of England has sat upon it on
the day of his coronation, and the stone has naturally
become an object of great interest. Its fabulous and its
real antiquity, and its regal uses alike combine to render
it, uncouth and shapeless though it be, a national curi
osity, and a relic of incalculable value. Most visitors to
the Abbey desire to sit upon it, and we learn from Addi
son, that, in his day, a fine to the verger was the punish
ment of the man who placed himself upon this seat of
kings. It is sometimes hinted at now, but very rarely,
the verger being forbidden to demand anything beyond
the customary fixed fee for admission.
The church of St. Margaret's, standing, as it were.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 207
under the protection of the Abbey, and looking, in point
of size, if we may make the comparison, like a child
holding by its mother's apron, has also its interest, if it
were for nothing else than for containing the ashes of
Sir Walter Raleigh, and of the early poet, Skelton, so
feared for his satires in the reign of Henry VIIL The
church, at first a chapel, was founded by Edward the
Confessor, and rebuUt by Edward I. and Edward IV.
It was repaired and enlarged in the years 1641, 1651,
and 1682; and again in 1735 and 1758. In the latter
year 4000/. was voted by the House of Commons for the
purpose, in addition to 2000/. voted in 1735, it being con
sidered a national church for the accommodation of the le
gislature. It was finaUy beautified in 1803, and a handsome
pew made for the Speaker in front of the west gaUery.
The window, of beautifiUly stained glass, which orna
ments this church, is much admired, and represents the
crucifixon. Its history is not a little curious. It was
intended as a present to Henry VII. to adorn the
chapel he Avas then buUding, by the magistrates of
Dordrecht, in Holland. It took five years in com
pleting, and, the king dying in the meantime, it came,
by some unexplained means, into the possession of the
abbots of Waltham. The last abbot, to prevent its
destruction, at the period of the dissolution of the
religious houses, had it removed to a private chapel at
NewhaU, belonging to the Butlers, earls of Ormond. It
next became the property of the Earl of Wiltshire, father
of Queen Anne Boleyn, along with the domains of
NewhaU, which were successively possessed by Thomas
Ratcliffe, earl of Sussex, George VUliers, duke of Buck-

208 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
ingham, and General Monk. During the civil wars,
when so many beautiful windows of stained glass were
destroyed, this one Avas removed from the chapel and
buried in the gardens of NewhaU, Avhere it remained
until the Restoration, Avhen Monk, then duke of Albe
marle, had it dug up and replaced in its former position.
On the failure of the succession to the dukedom of Albe
marle, NcAvhall fell to ruin, and was purchased, after the
lapse of some time, from the heirs, by John Olmins, Esq.
The latter pulled down a considerable part of the chapel,
but preserved the fine window, in the hope that it
would, some day, be laurchased for Westminster Abbey.
He had it taken to pieces, and packed up in boxes, in
which state it remained, it is said, for some years, until
it was bought by Mr. Conyers, to adorn his chapel at
Copthall, in Essex. It cost this gentleman a considerable
sum to have it repaired again. The Avindow remained in
this place till the death of Mr. Conyers, when his son
built a new house, and having no further use for so splen
did a piece of glass, sold it to the Committee appointed
for the repairing and beautifying of St. Margaret's Church.
Thus the window, after so long a series of adventures, —
buried, broken up, and bandied about from place to
place, was restored at last to its legitimate use, and fixed
almost upon the very spot its first donors intended, after
a lapse of nearly three hundred years.
Leaving the church, we find ourselves in Old Palace
Yard, and in part of Westminster Hall and the tem
porary Houses of Lords and Commons. Before entering
upon the history of the time-honom-ed Hall, let us pause
a moment on this open ground and consider what it is.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 209
and what it has been. It forms a considerable square,
having on the east the River Thames, and a line of Ioav
sheds for the workmen employed in the embankment for
the Houses of Parliament, and on the west a green
enclosure with some stunted trees, amid which rises the
statue of Canning, erected by Westmacott. On the north
are the venerable HaU of Westminster and some ruinous
remains of the old parliamentary and regal buildings,
and on the south a row of private houses, amid which
project, most prominently, the bay-windows of the
King's Arms Hotel, famous in the electioneering annals
of the city of Westminster. In the middle of the square
are to be seen, at aU hours, a dirty assemblage of
hackney-coaches and cabriolets and their unmannerly
drivers. But the ground upon which their horses stand
is classic, and has been the scene of many great events.
Towards the Thames there was, in the days of Elizabeth,
and as late as Charles IL, a handsome conduit, or foun
tain, and near the place where the steps now lead up to
Westminster Bridge, stood a Clock-Tower, supposed by
some to have been the prison of Richard Lovelace, the
poet, where he was confined by the House of Commons
in CromweU's time, for presenting a petition from the
county of Kent, praying for the restriction of the king to
his rights. While in captivity he wrote that beautiful
song to "Althea, from Prison," so weU knoAvn and so
much admired; and which ends —
" Stone walls do not a prison make.
Nor iron bars a cage ;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage.
VOL. I, P

210 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
If I have freedom in my love.
And in my soul am free ;
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty."
It is by no means certain, however, that to the Clock-
House belonged the honour of harbouring the poet, but
more probably he was confined in the Gate-House, which
was often used as a prison. Lovelace was the gayest,
most accomplished, and most popular gallant of his day ;
dressed better than any man of his time, and Avas more
esteemed by the ladies. He soon ran through a comfort
able fortune, and ended his days in a state of poverty,
but little removed from actual starvation, in a miserable
lodging near Shoe Lane.
The origin of the Clock-House is explained by the
following tradition. In the reign of Henry III. Rodul-
phus de Ingham, Chief Justice of the King's Bench,
commiserating the hard case of a poor man, who had
been cast in damages to the amount of 13s. id. in an
action for debt, erased the record in the court roU, and
substituted the sum of 6s. 8c?. The plaintiff in the cause
memoraUzed the King upon the injustice done him, and
the judge Avas fined for his misconduct in the sum of 800
marks. The clock was built with the money, and the
bell was tolled at intervals every day during the sitting
of the Courts to remind the Judges of the fine inflicted
upon their brother. The Clock-House Avas demolished in
the year 1715, and the bell conveyed to St. Paul's
Cathedral. The open space of Palace Yard was long the scene
for the infliction of minor punishments, where scolds and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 211
libeUers stood in the pillory to be pelted by all the raga
muffins of Westminster. It has been also the scene of
severer punishments, and is rendered for ever memorable
as the place of execution of Sir Walter Raleigh, Avhose
ashes, as Ave have already mentioned, are deposited in
the adjoining church of St. Margaret's. He Avas executed
on Thursday, the 29th of October, 1618, in pursuance
of a sentence passed, as is well known, fifteen years pre
viously. He was brought to Palace Yard at nine in the
morning, as we learn from the " State Trials," and mani
fested during his last moments an earnest striving to die
without exhibiting a sign of fear. He had suffered for
some days of a fever, and lest the weakness of his body
should be considered a Aveakness of mind, he stopped
immediately he arrived on the scaffold, and addressed
the persons about him, saying — " I desire you will bear
with me withal; and if I show any weakness, I beseech
you to attribute it to my malady, for this is the hour in
Avhich it is wont to come." He then sat doAvn, paused
awhile, and directing his eyes towards a AvindoAv where
Lords Arundel, Northampton, Doncaster, and some
gentlemen were sitting, he said, as if addressing them,
that he thanked God that he had been brought out to
die in the daylight and not in the darkness, meaning
probably that he rejoiced he was not put secretly to
death in the ToAver. Perceiving that the lords did not
hear what he said, as they were at some distance from
the scaffold, he raised his voice, but Lord Arundel en
treated him not to do so, as they Avould come to the
scaffold beside him, and hear Avhat he had to say. Space
was made for them accordingly, and Sir Walter, in a
p 2

212 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
firm voice, made a long speech in defence and explana
tion of his conduct. He then prepared himself for death,
giving away his hat, his cap, and some money to such
persons about him as he knew, that they should preserve
them as memorials of him after he was gone. Taking
leave of Lord Arundel, he requested him — so strong
even in that hour was his desire to stand well in the
estimation of his contemporaries and of posterity — to
desire the King that no scandalous writings to defame
him should be pubUshed after his death. He then said,
" I have a long journey to go, and must therefore bid
you farewell." Taking off his doublet and gown, he
desired the executioner to show him the axe. The latter
appeared to hesitate a little, upon which Raleigh said,
" I prithee, let me see it ! Dost thou think I am afraid V
The man then gave it to him, and the victim felt care
fully along its edge, and said to the sheriff, smiUng,
" This is a sharp medicine, but it wiU cure aU my
diseases." He then walked to the several sides of the
scaffold, and entreated the people to pray that God
would give him strength. The executioner kneeling
down to entreat his forgiveness. Sir Walter laid his hand
upon his shoulder, and said he freely forgave him. Being
asked which way he would lay his head upon the block,
he answered, " So the heart be straight, it is no matter
which way the head lieth." He then laid his head upon
the block, his face being turned towards the east ; and
the executioner, throwing down his cloak lest he should
spoU Sir Walter's embroidered gown, struck off his head
at two blows, the body never shrinking or moving. The
head was, according to the customary practice, shown at

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 213
both sides of the scaffold, and then put into a red leather
bag. His wrought velvet gown was thrown over it, and
it was carried away in a mourning-coach to his discon
solate widow — to her to whom he addressed such affecting
letters from the Tower — and placed, with his body, in
St. Margaret's.
The foUowing are tokens of tradesmen who resided in
Old Palace Yard:—
Thomas Pearson in the Olde (reverse) PaUace Yard,
in Westminster.
John Guy in ye Old PaUace (reverse) Yard, in West-
C
minster, 1666 his halfepenny j ^
John Harman at the (reverse) in y« Ould PaUace half
P'^^I^S. g
Tho. Stone at the (reverse) Legg in Palace Yard ^ p_
Edward Gibson (reverse) in y" New PaUace Yard
Potter, 1662.
Westminster HaU, for many ages the principal seat
of the courts of law, was originaUy built by William
Rufus as the banqueting-haU of his adjoining palace.
His subjects were sorely taxed for this and other expenses.
He often kept his Christmases here in great state, accord
ing to the fashion of the Norman princes. The building
was considered the most magnificent hall in England;
but there being little or no protection by means of
embankment from the high tides of the Thames, it was
very often overflowed, and its foundations rendered
insecure. Part of it was puUed down some years pre
vious to 1397, by order of Richard IL, and the present

214 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
edifice erected in its stead. Pennant describes the altera
tions made by this monarch, and according to Stow, his
authority, the expense Avas paid by a tax on aU foreigners
or refugees in England. Shortly after its completion, he
kept his Christmas in the Hall with a profuse splendour.
The number of his guests each day is said to have been
10,000, and the cooks employed 2000. The Coronation
banquets have also been given from a jerj early age in
the same Hall ; and occasionally, when the monarch was
inclined to be liberal, the poor were entertained with
prodigal feasting. Henry III., whose constant exactions
made him an unpopular king, endeavoured to gain mob-
favour by the splendour of these feasts. By orders given
to his treasurer, William de Haverhall, in the year 1236,
he caused 6000 poor men, Avomen, and children to be
fed, the Aveakest and most aged in the great Hall, as the
place of honour, and in the lesser HaU those who Avere
younger and in more reasonable plight; the children of
both sexes being regaled in the apartments of the "King
and Queen.
The Parliament, Avhen that body Avas a mere appendage
to the royal state, and had no settled place of meeting,
often assembled in Westminster HaU. When the altera
tions in the Hall Avere in progress during the reign of
Richard II. a sort of barn, for it could not have been
much better, if Stow's description be correct, was erected
for their accommodation. It is described as having been
formed of Avood, and covered with tiles, and open on all
sides, that every body might hear what Avas said and
done. The Hall from its noble dimensions, being the largest

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 215
room in Europe unsupported by pUlars, or 270 feet in
length, by 74 in width, has been generally selected as
the scene of state trials of importance. The reader
needs not be informed, but merely i-eminded, that in this
place were tried Charles I., the Earl of Strafford, Lord
William Russell, Algernon Sydney, &c. ; and in compara
tively recent times, Warren Hastings. Here also took
place, in 1776, the celebrated trial of the Duchess of
Kingston for bigamy, which lasted six days, and excited
as much interest throughout the country as if the fate
of miUions had depended upon the result.
The interior of the HaU was, until the middle of the
last century or later, filled with shops and staUs, princi
pally of books and printsellers. Several books published
at that and an earlier period bear the imprint of West
minster Hall. The following is the title of a scarce tract,
pubUshed by a bookseller, whose shop was in the Hall : —
" A Sermon preached before the Hon''^^. House of Com
mons at St. Margaret's, Westminster, October 10th, 1666,
being the Fast Day appointed for the late dreadful Fire
in the City of London. London, printed by Robert
White, for Henry Mortlock, and are to be sold at his
shop, at the sign of the White Hart, in Westminster HaU,
1666." Several old prints represent the four sides of the Hall
as entirely covered with shops, and the barristers walk
ing about among them, and making purchases. The
outside of the Hall was in like manner almost hidden
from view by the number of petty coffee-houses stuck
against it. These were all removed about the year
1810.

216 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Leading from the HaU are the four principal courts of
law, which are dignified in Term by the daily presence of
the judge, — the Court of Chancery, the Court of Exche
quer, the Court of Common Pleas, and the Court of
Queen's Bench, with the three courts, adjuncts to the
Chancery and the Queen's Bench, — the Vice ChanceUor's
and the RoU's Court, and the BaU Court. The most
ancient of these is the Court of Chancery, where, from
the Conquest until the middle of the sixteenth century,
some dignitary of the Church has usuaUy sat to perform
the high duties of Lord Chancellor. Among eminent
churchmen who have filled the office, might be enumerated
half the prelates who have held the see of Canterbury,
including Thomas k Becket and Cardinal Wolsey. After
the reign of Henry VIIL this high office was no more
bestowed upon ecclesiastics. The names of the eminent
men who have since that time sat on the honoured bench
of the Court of Chancery, include many which wiU Uve
in the affection and admiration of posterity, as long as
England, remains a nation, or its language endures upon
the globe.
The next court in point of antiquity is the Court of
King's or Queen's Bench, so caUed as the sex of the
sovereign may happen. Here the early Saxon, and after
them some of the Norman monarchs, sat in person to
hear the complaints of their subjects; and hence the
name by which it is stUl known, although no king since
Edward IV. has continued the practice.
The Court of Common Pleas was estabUshed ^in the
year 1215, and the Court of Exchequer, in 1079. The
Court of Exchequer Chamber, generaUy used as the place

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 217
where aU the judges deliberate together upon important
and questionable points of laAA^, was instituted by Edward
III. in the year 1359, and improved by Elizabeth in
1584. The actual halls where these courts now sit are
of comparatively recent erection. The former courts were
built from the designs of Kent, the architect surveyor-
general of Public Works in the reign of George II.
Great alterations were made in these courts in the year
1813, under the superintendence of Mr. James Wyatt,
and in 1824 they were rebuilt as they now stand by Sir
John Soane.
Adjoining to the courts of law is the site of the
Houses of Lords and Commons, which were accidentaUy
burned doAvn in 1834, and where a new and splendid
edifice from the plans of Mr. Barry is in course of
erection. The House of Lords, of which at the present time
a gateway is the only remains, was formed of a spacious
apartment formerly used as a court of requests, and at
the union of Great Britain and Ireland was hung with
some landscape tapestry, representing the defeat of the
Spamsh Armada, the gift of the States of Holland to
Queen Elizabeth.
Between the House of Lords and the House of Com
mons was an apartment called the Painted Chamber,
said to have been the bed-room of Edward the Confessor,
but on insufficient authority, there being no good grounds
for beUeving it to have been of an antiquity so venerable.
In this room Parliaments were often summoned to attend,
and in it was signed the death-warrant of Charles I. It

218 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Avas also used as the place of conference of the two
Houses on their committees.
The destruction of the House of Commons of the very
AvaUs and floor that Harley, Walpole, Pitt, Fox, Canning,
and other illustrious men, trod upon and looked on,
was justly regarded as a national calamity — far more
serious than the mere loss of the buUdings and their
contents. A pile more commodious and more elegant will
soon stand on the site of the old one, but future orators
and patriots will not be able to say, " Here, in this very
room — here, upon these benches, sat the great men whose
names shine in the pcage of English history — here, they
resisted tyranny — here, they established and maintained
the constitution — and here, they rendered the name of a
Briton synonymous over the globe with the liberator of
the slave — the friend of freedom and the ciAilizer of
mankind." There is, hoAvever, this hope, and almost
certainty, that new patriots, new orators, new statesmen
Avill arise, as illustrious as the old, in time, to shed a lustre
upon their modern place of meeting, and enact deeds
within it, Avhicli, after years have passed, AviU render its
reminiscences as dear as any that hallowed the old
spot. St. Stephen's Chapel, the original name of the buUding
in which for many generations the Commons of England
assembled, was first established by King Stephen in
honour of the saint of the same name. It was rebuilt by
King EdAvard III., in 1347, and dedicated "to the honour
of Almighty God, and especially of the blessed Virgin and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 219
of the martyr St. Stephen." He ordained it to be col
legiate under the government of a dean, twelve canons
secular, vicars, choristers, and subordinate officers, and
endowed it liberally Avith lands in Yorkshire and Berk
shire, and Avith his inn, situate in Lombard Street, Lon
don, and his tower in Bucklersbury. He also built for
the use of the chapel, in the little sanctuary A\'estward, a
bell-toAver covered with lead, in which were placed three
very large bells, which were generally rung at coronations
or at the funerals of royal personages. The dismal sound
of these bells Avas popularly said to turn all the beer
sour in the vicinity.
This monastery was not surrendered during the life of
Henry VIII. It was not, however, allowed to escape,
but was summoned to surrender under Edward VI. Its
revenues at that time were calculated at 1085/. 10s. 5d.
The building was then granted by Edward to be used as
the permanent chamber of Parliament, which body before
that time had no settled place of meeting. Various
alterations and additions were made to the chapel at
successive periods to render it more convenient for the
members. On the Union Avith Ireland, when the Commons re
ceived so large an accession to their numbers, the entire
side Avails were taken clown, except the buttresses that
supported the ancient roof and thrown several feet back,
by which more seats were procured.
The fire which caused the destruction both of this and
the other House of Parliament, broke out in the library
of the House of Lords at half-past six o'clock in tlie
evening of the 16th of October, 1834. The persons

220 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
employed to burn a large quantity of wooden taUies,
formerly used in the ChanceUor of the Exchequer's office,
instead of burning them in the open space between the
Speaker's house and the river, put them into a large
stove in one of the rooms in the House of Lords. The
flues, in consequence, became over-heated, and set fire to
the wood-work of the library. The flames spread Avith
great rapidity, and although they were immediately dis
covered, and every exertion made by the fire-men, the
police, the mUitary, and the people, who assembled in
great crowds, to subdue them, it soon became but too
apparent that aU their efforts would be unavailing. The
efforts of the fire-men were then directed to the preserva
tion of Westminster HaU, and that structure was happUy
saved, with some sUght damage to the upper waU imme
diately opposite to the entrance. Fears were entertained
for the safety of the venerable Abbey, but, happUy, it
escaped without injury. The flames were not subdued
tiU a late hour. A great quantity of valuable records
perished, together with the libraries of both Houses. The
total loss to the nation was estimated at upwards of
200,000/. Next morning. King WUliam IV. came from
Windsor, having started the instant he heard of the
calamity, and spent some time among the stiU-smoking
ruins. He offered to give up either of his palaces for
the use of the Legislature until new Houses could be
built; but the situation of neither being considered suit
able, it was finally resolved to erect a temporary building
at the expense of about 20,000/., in which the Lords and
Commons now carry on their deliberations. Architects
were then invited to send in plans for the new buUdings,

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. '221
and ultimately that of Mr. Barry was adopted. Several
years ago, as we learn from the notes to Dr. Hughson's
description of Westminster, it was suggested by Mr. Mal-
ton, author of a " Picturesque Tour through London,"
" that Westminster Hall, with its surrounding buildings,
Avhich are inconvenient and insufficient for the various
purposes to which they are appropriated, might give way
to the noble idea of forming the whole of this hetero
geneous mass into one grand design, which would extend
from Margaret Street to the river side, and from thence
return by a spacious embankment by the House of Com
mons into the Old Palace Yard. In such a magnificent
plan the different departments of the Legislature might
be accommodated in a manner suitable to their respective
dignities." The expense of such an undertaking was
long the only obstacle, and the fire having rendered this
a matter of necessity, the improvement is carrying out
upon the plan recommended.
The Star-Chamber, the last vestiges of which will have
disappeared ere these pages meet the eye of the reader,
formed a part of the mass of buildings included in West
minster HaU, and the Houses of the Legislature. " The
name of this court of justice," says Pennant, " so tre
mendous in the Tudor and part of the Stuart reign, was
not taken from the stars with which its roof is said to
have been painted (which were obliterated even before
the reign of Queen Elizabeth), but from the Starra, or
Jewish covenants, which were deposited there by order
of Richard I., in chests under three locks. No starr was
allowed to be vaUd except found in those reposftories,
where they remained tUl the banishment of the Jews

222 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
by Echvard I. In the reigns of Henry VII. and
Henry VIIL a new-modeUed court was erected here,
consisting of divers lords, spiritual and temporal, with
two judges of the courts of Common Law, without the
intervention of a jury." The powers of this court were so
abused, that it was abolished altogether by the House of
Commons in the 1 6th of Charles I., under circumstances
familiar to every reader of English history.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 223

PART in.

FROM CHARING CROSS TO WATERLOO-BRIDGE.
Once more making Charing Cross our point of departure,
we proceed doAvnwards through the busiest thoroughfares
of London, Avhere money-making multitudes continuaUy
pass to and fro, and where, as Dr. Johnson remarked to
BosweU, the fuU tide of human existence is to be
seen. The Strand and Fleet Street, from Charing Cross
to St. Paul's, are not only the busiest places in London,
but among the richest in memories of the past. The
road formed in early ages, the connecting link between
the city of London and the viUage of Charing and city of
Westminster, and in more modern times, has become a
component part of the latter city. " Up to the year
1353," says Pennant, "the Strand was an open high
way, with here and there a great man's house, with gar
dens to the water-side. In that year it was so impass
able, that Edward III., by an ordinance, directed a tax
to be raised upon avooI, leather, vfine, and aU goods
carried to the staple at Westminster from Temple Bar to
Westminster Abbey, for the repair of the road ; and that
aU owners of houses adjacent to the, highway should
repair as much as lay before their doors." Thirty years

224 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
afterwards, toUs were granted for paving the Strand from
the Savoy to Temple Bar, and many enactments for the
same purpose were made between that date and the year
1532, when an Act was passed for the uniform paving of
the whole line, the costs to be defrayed by the owners of
the land. Before the latter year there was no continued
street. The Strand was a rural road, and nothing inter
vened but a few scattered houses. " But about the year
1560," says Pennant, " a street was formed, loosely built;
for aU the houses on the south side had great gardens to
the river, were called by their owners' names, and in
after-times gave name to the several streets that suc
ceeded them, pointing down to the Thames. Each of
them had stairs for the conveniency of taking boat. As
the Court was for centuries either at the palace of West
minster or at WhitehaU, a boat was the customary con
veyance of the great to the presence of their sovereign.
The north side was a mere line of houses from Charing
Cross to Temple Bar — aU beyond was country. The
gardens which occupied part of the site of Covent Garden
were bounded by fields, and St. Giles's was a distant
country viUage."
The first building from Charing Cross, in the direction
of Temple Bar, was, in very early times, a hermitage,
with a chapel dedicated to St. Catharine, which seems to
have been occasionaUy used as the lodging for such
bishops as came to attend the Court, and had no other
residence in London or Westminster. WiUis, in his
" History of the See of Llandaff," states, on the autho
rity of the Patent Rolls of the forty-seventh year of
Henry III., that WiUiam de Radnor, the then bishop.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 225
had permission from the King to lodge, with all his re
tainers, within the precincts of the hermitage at Charing,
whenever he came to London. Immediately adjoining,
or probably opposite, stood the ancient hospital of St.
Mary Ronceval, a cell to the priory of the same name in
Navarre. It was founded by William Marichal, earl of
Pembroke, in the reign of Henry III., suppressed by
Henry V. as an alien priory, restored by Edward IV.,
and finaUy suppressed by Edward VI., and its posses
sions granted to Sir Thomas Cawarden, to be held in
free soccage of the honour of Westminster. It then
came to Henry Howard, earl of Northampton, in the
reign of James I., who, finding it in an uninhabitable and
ruinous state, pulled the greater portion of it clown, and
employed Bernard Jansen, the architect, to erect a more
commodious mansion upon its site. This edifice was
known by the name of Northampton House, from its
noble owner, who died in it in 1624. By his will it was
left to his kinsman, the Earl of Suffolk, Lord Treasurer,
and was then called Suffolk House. The' heiress of this
family married Algernon Percy, and the mansion thus
came into the possession of the noble family of Northum
berland about the year 1642, in which it has ever since
remained, and borne their name for about tAvo centuries.
The mansion, as built by Bernard Jansen, consisted of
three sides of a quadrangle, and the principal apartments
were in the upper end next to the Strand, then a
much narroAver thoroughfare at Charing Cross than it is
now. Algernon Percy, almost immediately after he
came into possession, commenced buUding the fourth
side towards the river, that the principal apartments
VOL. I. Q

226 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
might be removed from the dust and noise of the Strand.
Inigo Jones was the architect. Evelyn, in his " Diary,"
under date of the 8th of June, 1658, speaks of having
gone to see the pictures soon after this side of the
quadrangle was completed. The pictm'C that chiefly drew
his attention was the Cornaro Family, by Titian, which
still remains one of the principal ornaments of the mansion.
Considerable improvements were made in the building
about the year 1750, and again in 1829 or 1830. The
lion on the top, on the Strand side, is a famUiar ac
quaintance of aU the Londoners. A whimsical story has
long been in circulation about it. Some wag undertook,
for a trifling wager, to coUect a crowd in the streets of
London upon any pretence, however absurd. He went
accordingly, leaned his back against Charing Cross, and
looked very earnestly up to the lion. In less than a
minute he was joined by one or two of the passers. He
took out a spy-glass and looked stUl more intently at the
lion. In less than five minutes about a hundred people
had assembled, and the whisper went among them that
at a certain hour the Uon would wag his taU ! Still the
crowd increased ; the Strand became impassable, and the
greatest curiosity was manifested; several swore posi
tively that they saw the taU wagging, and long argu
ments ensued pro and con. The story adds, that the
crowds were not dispersed till a smart shower came on,
and even then, some of the most pertinacious believers
ensconced themselves in covered alleys and under door
ways to watch the phenomenon.
An lustorical event of importance is connected with
this edifice. In the year 1660, when General Monk had

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 227
taken up his quarters in the palace of Whitehall, he was
invited by the Earl of Northumberland, in the name of
the nobiUty and gentry of England, to a conference in
Northumberland House, to discuss the state of the na
tion. Monk attended, and the restoration of Charles IL,
the event in every body's mind, but winch had not as yet
been openly talked of was, for the first time, proposed in
direct terms.
The side of the Strand next the river being that first
built upon, wUl necessarily claim more notice than the
other. Craven Street, the second street citywards from
Northumberland House, and leading towards the Thames,
deserves honourable mention, as having been the abode
of Benjamin Franklin. The house inhabited in 1777 by
the great phUosopher, was No. 7, that which is now
occupied by "The Society for the ReUef of Persons
Imprisoned for Small Debts." Craven Street was also
the abode of the late James Smith, SoUcitor to the Ord
nance, one of the authors of the "Rejected Addresses,"
and of various other works. His house was No. 27.
He died here on the 24th of December, 1839. The
foUowing extemporaneous effusions, relative to this street,
are said to have been made at dinner by that gentleman
and his friend Sir George Rose : —
J. S. — " At the top of my street the attorneys abound,
And down at the bottom the barges are found :
Fly, Honesty, fly, to some safer retreat,
For there's craft in the river and craft in the street.
SirG.B. — "Why should Honesty fly to some safer retreat,
From attorneys and barges — od' rot 'em —
For the lawyers are just at the top of the street.
And the barges are Jv^t at the bottom."
Q 2

228 AN ANTIQUARIAN EAMBLE
"The branching streets that from Charing Cross
divide," mentioned in the second book of Gay's " Trivia,"
as resounding with the cry of "Clean your honour's
shoes!" are no longer in existence, having been all cleared
away to make room for the improvements of Trafalgar
Square, the West Strand, King WiUiam Street, and the
LoAvther Arcade, between the years 1827 and 1832.
The street has thus been considerably widened, and a
row of very handsome houses erected in place of the old
dUapidated ones that formerly nodded over the head of
the passenger, and threatened to crush him in their
ruins. Among the few new buildings on the river side, the
new Hungerford Market is the most prominent. The
market takes its name from the family of Hungerford, of
Farleigh, in the county of Wilts. Sir Edward Hunger
ford, who was made a Knight of the Bath at the corona
tion of Charles IL, converted his mansion into various
small tenements and a market. The latter was rebuilt
in 1831 in a handsome manner, and forms a great orna
ment to the bank of the river. It is besides one of the
most frequented steam-boat piers in London, and on a
fine Sunday or holiday during.the summer months it is a
scene of great bustle and animation.
Hungerford Suspension Bridge would, fifty years ago,
have been accounted a world's wonder; but the genius
of Telford has familiarized the marvel to our minds.
One suspension bridge must of necessity be like another,
and this pretty faithfully " reflects its brother" at Ham
mersmith. ViUiers Street, that runs from the Strand paraUel with

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 229
the east side of Hungerford Market, is so called from tho
Villiers', dukes of Buckingham, on the site of whose
princely mansion it is erected. The house that anciently
stood here, was caUed the Bishop of NorAvich's inn; but
being exchanged in 1535 for the abbey of St. Benett
Holme, in Norfolk, it became the property of Charles
Brandon, duke of Suffolk. In the reign of Mary it
was pm-chased by the Archbishop of York, and called
York House, but did not long continue to be inhabited
by the prelates of that see, as Ave find that in the reign
of Elizabeth, the Lord Keeper Sir Nicholas Bacon, and
the Lord Keeper Sir Thos. Egerton, both resided in it.
Shortly after the latter took up his abode in it, his illus
trious son Francis was born in it. This event took place
on the 22nd of January, 1561, and here the future
Lord ChanceUor, philosopher, and statesman, passed his
infancy and childhood, being often taken to Court by his
father to converse with the Queen, who delighted to prove
the strength of his mind by questions, which he answered
with such abUity and gravity that Her Majesty often
playfaUy caUed him her young Lord Keeper. It is
related of the sage that, when a boy at York House, he
used to go to play with liis companions in St. James's
Fields, and that there was a brick conduit there with a
singular echo, the cause of which, even at that early age,
he was exceedingly anxious to discover, and often stole
away from his playmates for that purpose. In his after
years he resided principally in Gray's Inn, but stUl re
tained York House. He celebrated here the sixtieth
anniversary of his birth, in company with many of his

230 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
friends. Ben Jonson was one of the guests on that
occasion, and composed the foUowing verses, which, says
Mr. Martm, in his " Character of Lord Bacon," were
most likely recited by the poet himself"
" Hail, happy genius of this ancient pile !
How comes it all things so about thee smile?
The fire, the wine, the men ; and in the midst
Thou stand'st, as if some mystery thou didst.
Pardon, I read it in thy face ! The day
For whose return, and many, all these pray.
And so do I. This is the sixtieth year
Since Bacon and thy lord was born, and here;
Son to the grave, wise keeper of the seal.
Fame and foundation of the English weal.
What then the father was, that since is he.
Now with a title more to the degree ;
England's High Chancellor, the destined heir
In his soft cradle to his father's chair.
Whose even thread the Fates spin round and full.
Out of their choicest and their richest wool.
'Tis a brave cause of joy, let it be known.
For 'twere a narrow gladness kept thine own.
Give me a deep-crown'd bowl, that I may sing.
In raising him, the wisdom of my king."
Bacon after his release from the Tower seems never
to have returned to inhabit York House, being forbidden
to come within the verge of the Court. He was allowed
to reside at his house at Gorhambury, " where," to use
his own affecting words, " he lived upon the sword-point
of a sharp air, and angered if he went abroad, duUed if
he stayed within, solitary and comfortless, without com
pany, banished from aU opportunities to treat with any to
do him good, and to help out any wrecks ; and that which
was one of his greatest griefs — his wife that had been

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 231
no partaker of his offending, made to be the partaker of
the misery of his restraint." Bacon found this banish
ment so irksome, that he prepared a petition to the Lords
to be aUowed to return to York House, where he might
have " company, physicians, conference with his creditors
and friends about his debts and the necessities of his
estate, helps for his studies and the writings he had in
hand," concluding his petition with the foUowing eloquent
appeal, "Herein your Lordships shall do a work of
charity and nobility : you shaU do me gooji ; you shall
do my creditors good; and it may be, you shaU do pos
terity good, if out of the carcass of dead and rotten
greatness, as out of Samson's lion, there may be honey
gathered for the use of future times!" Bacon was much
attached to York House. " It is the house," said he,
" wherein my father died, and wherein I first breathed ;
and there wUl I yield my breath, if so please God, and
the King avUI give me leave, though I be now by fortune
(as the proverb is) like a bear in a monk's hood. At
least no money, no value shaU make me part with it."
After four or five months' earnest solicitation, Bacon was
permitted to leave Gorhambury; his fine was remitted,
but he was not allowed to reside within the verge of the
Court. He therefore took a smaU house at Chiswick.
The favourite Buckingham had cast a longing eye upon
York House, and its great OAvner was no more to possess
it. His friend Sir Edward SackviUe, who knew the in
clinations of Buckingham and the Lords, advised Bacon
to part with his residence, and thereby perhaps avert
their enmity, if he did not gain their good-wiU. "In

232 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
York House," said Sir Edward SackviUe in a letter to
Bacon, "Avere gone, the town were yours, and all your
straitest shackles cleared off, besides more comfort than
the city air only. I have told Mr. Meautys how I could
wish your Lordship to make an end of it. From him I
beseech you take it, and from me only the advice to per
form it. If you part not speedily with it, you^may
defer the good which is approaching near you, and dis
appointing other aims (Avhich must shortly receive con
tent or never), perhaps anew yield matter of discontent,
though you may indeed be as innocent as before." Mr.
Meautys (a creditor of Bacon's, and who used him
" coarsely," and meant, as the phUosopher said in a
moment of bitterness, " to saw him asunder,") writing to
support Sir Edward's advice, said, " The great Lords long
to be in York House. I know your Lordship cannot
forget they have such a savage word among them as
fleecing'.- An Act of Parliament was passed on the
19th of May, 1624, whereby York House and estate
were " assured" to the king, and they were then granted
to Buckingham, the man by whose influence chiefly they
were wrested from Lord Bacon. Buckingham employed
Inigo Jones to rebuUd a great part of it in a style of
much magnificence.
The York Stairs or Water Gate, at the bottom of
Buckingham Street, wiU give some idea of the beauty of
the building, of which this is now the sole remnant.
This gate has been universaUy admired and pronounced
to be the most perfect piece of building that does honour
to the name of Inigo Jones. " It is planned," says the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 233
author of the " Critical Review of Public Buildings," " in
so exquisite a taste, formed of such equal and harmonious
parts, and adorned with such proper and elegant decora
tions, that nothing can be Censured or added." The
Duke lived here in the most expensive manner till his
unhappy assassination by Felton, when it became the
property of his more celebrated or more notorious son —
whichever the reader chooses to consider him. It was
then leased to the Earl of Northumberland, (whose son
Algernon had not yet married the Heiress of Suffolk, and
received a town house Avith her,) together with its goods,
furniture, and pictures, for the small sum of 350/.
During the usurpation of Cromwell and the Parliament,
York House was considered public property, and as such
bestowed as a reward for his services on General Lord
Fairfax. The heiress of that nobleman married the
Duke of Buckingham, and the house again reverted to its
legal owner, who resided in it for many years after the
Restoration, being extravagant enough to maintain two
first-rate houses within a few yards of each other for his
own occupation. He, hoAvever, preferred Wallingford
House on the other side of Charing Cross, of which we
have already made mention ; and being in want of money
towards the close of his career, he sold the whole estate
of York House for buUding on. Several streets were
laid out upon its site, which Avent generally by the name
of York Buildings; but are now distinguished each by
its separate appellation, containing a word of the" name
or title of the last owner. Thus we have to this day
George Street, ViUiers Street, Duke Street, Of Alley, and
Buckingham Street.

234 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Of VUliers Street the foUowing notice occurs in the
" Memoirs of Evelyn," vol. I. p. 530 : " l7th Nov., 1683.
I took a house in ViUiers Streete, York BuUdings, for
the winter, having many important concernes to dispatch,
and for the education of my daughters."
York Stairs are approached from a smaU inclosed
terrace, planted with lime-trees, used as a promenade by
the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who maintain the
fabric and terrace from the proceeds of a rate levied on
their houses for that purpose. On the river-front is a
large archway opening upon steps that lead down to the
water, with a window on each side. These, conjointly
with four rusticated columns, support an entablature,
crowned by an arched pediment and two couchant lions
holcUng shields. In the middle of the pediment, within
a scroU, are the arms of the ViUiers' famUy. On the
street side are three arches flanked by pUasters, support
ing an entablature, on which are four baUs. Above the
key-stones of the arches are ornamental shields with
anchors, that in the centre bearing the VilUers' arms
impaUng those of Manners. The Villiers' motto, Fidei
coticula crux, is inscribed upon the freize.
Peter the Great, on his visit to this country, had
lodgings in York Buildings, in a house overlooking the
river, supposed to be that on the left-hand corner of
Buckingham Street. Here, after rowing about on the
Thames between Deptford and London, he used often to
retire and spend his evenings with Lord Caermarthen,
drinking hot brandy with pepper in it — a fiery beverage,
of which he was fond, and Avhich served to digest the
raw viands and the train-oil of his ordinary diet.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 235
Passing Coutts's celebrated bank, — a gloomy-looking
house. No. 58 in the Strand, and more like a prison or a
mad-house than the temple of Mammon, which it is, — we
stand upon the site of the ancient pile, caUed Durham
House or Palace, famous in the history of England as the
place where Lady Jane Grey was married, and for other
events of historical interest. It is now covered by several
streets, bearing the general name of the Adelphi; so
caUed from the Greek word, signifying "brothers," because
it was built and planned by four brothers of the name of
Adam, Durham Place, the mansion itself stood on the
spot now occupied by John Street, extending to the river,
with offices and outbuildings, extending to the Strand.
It was erected, according to Stow, by Thomas de Hat
field, bishop of Durham, between the years 1345 and
1381, and continued to be inhabited by his successors
until the 26th of Henry VIIL, when Tonstal, the then
bishop, exchanged it with the king for another mansion
in Thames Street. On his marriage with Ann of Cleves,
Henry held a great tournament in the Tilt Yard at
Westminster, and each day after the jousting the chal
lengers invited the Court to a sumptuous repast in
Durham Place. The sports lasted six days, and at the
conclusion, in addition to the king, queen, the Court, the
foreign ambassadors, the nobility, and principal knights,
the givers of the feast invited the members of the House
of Commons, the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London,
with their wives, and many other persons. The king
rewarded the chaUengers for their feast and their prowess
by a yearly pension of one hundred marks each, to them
and their heirs for ever, payable out of the revenues of

236 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the hospital of St. John of Jerusalem. He might have
found a better appropriation for the church property.
Under the administration of the affairs of England by
the ambitious family of the Seymours, during the minority
of Edward VI., a mint was established in Durham Place,
under the management of Sir WUliam Sherington. The
money coined was to have been used in corrupting the
army and people, and generally to aid the Lord Admiral,
Thomas Seymour, in his designs upon the throne. His
practices were discovered, and he suffered death. Sir
WiUiam Sherington was also condemned, but he escaped
punishment, and was employed by the next possessor of
Durham Place in a simUar occupation. As ambitious as
the Seymours, Dudley, earl of Northumberland, appeared
at one time more successful, and his liberality and mag
nificence were the universal theme of the populace. The
marriage of Lady Jane Grey with his son. Lord Guild
ford Dudley, was celebrated Avith much splendour within
these walls, simultaneously with the marriage of two
other members of his aspiring family : Lord Herbert with
the Lady Catherine Grey, sister of the Lady Jane, and
Lord Hastings, heir of the Earl of Huntiugdon, with the
Lady Catherine Dudley, the duke's youngest daughter.
When the unfortunate Lady Jane was brought from Sion
House by her father-in-law to assume the crown, be
queathed to her as if it had been of the goods and chattels
of King Edward VI., she Avas lodged in Durham Place,
and from thence escprted, with all the pride, pomp, and
paraphernalia of royalty, to the Tower, — the luckless
queen of a few days. Queen Mary granted Durham
Place to the see to which it originaUy belonged; but

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 237
Elizabeth, on her accession, claimed it as one of the royal
palaces, and granted the use of it to Sir Walter Raleigh,
who continued to inhabit it till a short time after her
death. It Avas one of the charges brought against
Raleigh under James I., that he received Lord Cobham
at his apartments in Durham Place, and there conspired
with him and others hoAv to advance the Lady ArabeUa
Stuart to the throne. In Aubrey's " Letters," vol. III.,
p. 513, there is the following description of Sir Walter's
lodgings : '" Durham House was a noble palace ; after he
came to his greatness he lived there, or in some apart
ment of it. I well remember his study, which was on a little
turret, that looked into and over the Thames, and had
the prospect, which is as pleasant, perhaps, as any in the
world, and which not only refreshes the eie-sight, but
cheers the spirits, and (to speake my mind) I believe
enlarges an ingeniose man's thoughts."
On Raleigh's imprisonment in the Tower, Durham
Place was granted by the King to Toby Matthew^^ bishop
of Durham, and afterwards archbishop of York. The
stables at this time were in a very ruinous condition.
Strype says, "ready to faU, and very unsightly in so
pubUc a passage to the Court and Westminster." The
Earl of Salisbury, to whom they belonged, granted the
site to_^ build an exchange for the sale of miUinery. It
was buUt upon the plan of the Royal Exchange, and was
solely occupied by sempstresses and milliners. King
James and his Queen attended the opening of it, and it
was named by the Queen, "the 'Burse of Britain." It
was afterwards called the New Exchange. In 1640,
Durham Place was purchased of the See of Durham by

238 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
PhUip, earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, who puUedit
down, and converted the site into streets. In 1 73 7, the
Exchange was also puUed down, and a frontage of dweU-
ing houses and shops made to the Strand. Two romantic
stories are related of the Exchange, which stood almost
directly opposite to the site of the present Adelphi
Theatre. In the year 1653, one Don Pantaloon de Saa,
brother of the Portuguese ambassador to the court of
OUver CromweU, quarreUed with a gentleman named
Geraud in the public walk of the Exchange, whither they
had both come, as was the fashion Avith the young gal
lants of the day, to ogle and flirt Avith the miUiners.
Some opprobrious expressions escaped Mr. Geraud, and
the Portuguese determined on vengeance after the
manner of his own country. He hired some bravos to
come with him to the Exchange on the foUowing day.
They waited a short time, and saw a gentleman, whom
they mistook for Mr. Geraud, walking with a lady, when
they rushed upon him, and stabbed him to death with
their poniards. They were immediately seized, and Don
Pantaloon being tried, was found guUty and sentenced to
death. By a strange coincidence, Mr. Geraud, whom he
had intended to make his victim, was executed on the
very same scaffold, on the very same day, for being con
demned in a plot against the life of OUver CromweU.
The other story relating to the Exchange is of the
days of WiUiam III. A sempstress, whose face nobody
had ever seen, was observed day after day to take her
station at her staU dressed in white, and wearing a white
mask. She excited great curiosity, and carried on in
consequence a more profitable trade than any of her

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 239
companions. All the fashionable world of London Avent
to visit her, and she became known by the name of the
" White MUliner." It was at length discovered that this
mysterious lady was no other than the Duchess of Tyr-
connel, the widow of Richard Talbot, lord-deputy of
Ireland under James IL, and who was reduced to such
extremity of distress that she would have starved if it
had not been for the little trade she then carried on.
Her relatives, ignorant of her extremity, provided for her
immediately the story became known.
The estate of Durham Place was purchased, about the
year 1760, of the Earl of Pembroke by the Messrs.
Adam, brothers and architects, who built the stately
terrace overlooking the river, named after them, the
Adelphi. Durham Yard is a narrow passage, running
right under this pile to the coal-wharves on the banks of
the river. Mr. Malton says, the project of clearing away
the smaU houses upon this uneven spot of ground, and
buUding so magnificent a terrace upon their site, was " a
project that excited very much attention at the time.
The extreme depth of the foundations, the massy piers
of brick work, and the spacious subterranean vaults and
arches, excited the wonder of the ignorant and the ap
plause of the skUful ; whUe the regiilarity of the street
in the superstructure, and the elegance and novelty of
the decorations equaUy delighted all descriptions of
people." Soon after the terrace was built, . the centre
house was purchased by Garrick, whose widow continued
to inhabit it till her death.
Boswell relates that he and Johnson visited Mrs. Gar
rick here the first day her house was opened after her

240 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
husband's death, and that they met Sir Joshua Reynolds
there, with Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Boscawen, and others.
" She looked well," says BosweU, "talked of her husband
with complacency; and Avhile she cast her eyes at his
portrait which hung over the chimney-piece, said, that
' death was now the most agreeable object to her.'" The
old lady lived to, be ninety years of age. As Johnson
and BosAvell came away from Mrs. Garrick's, Johnson
remembered that his friend Beauclerck had died in one of
the houses of the same terrace. The two stopped for
awhUe, leaned on the rails, and looked into the Thames.
" I said to him," says BosweU, with some emotion, " that
I Avas now thinking of tv/o friends we had lost, who once
lived in the buildings behind us." " Ay, sir," replied
Johnson, tenderly, " and two such friends as cannot be
supplied." While we are upon the subject of this terrace, we must
not forget the joke recorded against a late worthy alder
man of London. The healths of the Prince Regent and
the Duke of York being proposed at a public dinner
where they were present, as the " Adelphi," the alderman
drank the toast, and proposed another directly after
wards — " While we are toasting the streets," said he,
"I don't see why we shouldn't toast Finsbury Square.
I propose Finsbury Square with three times three!"
Robert, John, George, and James Streets, in the Adel
phi, are so caUed from the names of the brothers Adam.
In John Street, at Osborn's Hotel, resided the King of
the Sandwich Islands, on his visit to this country in the
reign of George IV. His Otaheitan Majesty stands a
fair chance of being long remembered in England, from

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 241
the Avell-knoAvn song made about him, called " The King
of the Cannibal Islands," which has been popular ever
since. It is probable, hoAvever, that the song will out-
liA^e his memory, having found its Avay to, and become a
favourite in the new world of North America and Aus
tralia, where the circumstances that gave rise to it were
never knoAvn.
In John Street is the building designed by the Messrs.
Adam, for " The Society for the Encouragement of Arts,
Manufactures, and Commerce ;" " a building," says Mr.
Malton, " simple without meanness, and grand without
exaggeration." The interior, besides the various offices
of the Society, contains appropriate apartments for de
positing the models which have obtained prizes. The
" Great Room" is a noble apartment, forty-seven feet in
length, forty-two in breadth, and forty in height, illu
minated through a dome. The sides are ornamented by
six large pictures, painted by James Barry, so connected
in a series as to illustrate the maxim, " that the attain
ment of happiness, individual as well as public, depends
on the development, proper cultivation, and perfection
of the human faculties, physical and moral, which are so
weU calculated to lead human nature to its true rank,
and the glorious designation assigned for it by Provi
dence." The first picture exhibits mankind in a savage
state, exposed to all the inconvenience and misery of
neglected culture ; the second represents a harvest-home,
or thanksgiving to Ceres and Bacchus; the third, the
victors at the Olympic games ; the fourth. Navigation,
or the triumphs of the Thames ; the fifth, the distribu
tion of rewards by the Society; and the sixth, Elysium,
VOL. I. ¦ K

242 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
or the state of final retribution. The pictures are aU of
the same height, viz., eleven feet ten inches. The first,
second, fourth, and fifth are fifteen feet two inches long ;
the thfrd and sixth, which occupy the whole breadth of
the room at the north and south ends are each forty-
two feet long. Besides these, the room contains whole-
length portraits of the various Presidents of the Society,
since its estabUshment in 1753; a bust of Franklin, who
was one of the most active members of the Society, and
other busts, statues, and pictures of ingenious and Ulus
trious men.
Mr. Robert Adam, the eldest of these brothers, died in
' March, 1792 ; he, was buried in Westminster Abbey, in
the south aisle ; his pall was supported by the Duke of
Buccleuch, the Earl of Coventry, the Earl of Lauderdale,
Lord Stormont, Lord Frederick Campbell, and Mr.
Pulteney. The brothers were the sons of WiUiam Adam,
himself an architect of soj2j<s eminence in Scotland.
They were born at Kirkaldy, and educat4d at the Univer
sity of Edinburgh. ;
Again returning to the Strand, we arfrive at Sahsbury
Street, which, with OecU Street, stand^ upon the site of
SaUsbury House, the residence of ^{j. Robert Cecil,
second son of the wise Burleigh, thyujinister of Eliza
beth. SaUsbury Street was the^Jgi^^ence of the famous
Partridge, the cobbler and .'ilmanack-maker, whose death,
as aUeged by Swift, under 4he name of Bickerstaff, kept
the town in good humour for a month. Partridge, in a
great rage, knocked a man down opposfte his own door,
for crying about the town an account of his death, an
incident which kept up the laugh against him when it

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 243
was dying away ; the joke, however, ruined his almanack,
and Partridge never was himself again.
SaUsbury House was a large structure, surmounted by
turrets, fronting the river, and having a wall to the Strand,
which thoroughfare the Earl caused to be leveUed, and
substantiaUy paved the Avhole way before it. His suc
cessor, the second Earl of SaUsbury of this family, divided
the mansion iuto two, the one going by the name of
Great, and the other of Little Salisbury House, the Earl
himself inhabiting the former and letting out the latter,
as the old book says, " to persons of quality." Little
SaUsbury House was afterwards puUed down, and a
rather mean-looking street buUt on its site, which in its
turn was piUled down, and the present handsomer street
erected under the superintendence of James Paine, the
architect. Between this and Great Salisbury House,
which occupied the site of Cecil Street, an exchange was
buUt, upon the plan of the Burse of Britain, further up
the Strand ; it was caUed the Middle Exchange, and
consited of one long covered room, leading from the
Strand to the Thames, with shops and staUs on each
side, and a flight of steps at the end to the river, where
boats could be hired. The place became the resort of
abandoned women; no respectable persons would take
staUs in it, and it soon went to decay. It was ultimately
puUed doAvn in 1696 by the Earl, along with Great
Salisbury House, when OecU Street was first buUt.
A little beyond this was Ivy Bridge, under which there
was a narrow passage to the Thames, that formed the
boundary line between the Liberty of the Duchy of Lan
caster and the City of Westminster. " Near this bridge,"
R 2

244 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
says Pennant, " the Earl of Rutland had a house, in
Avhich several of that noble family breathed their last."
In the Strand, exactly opposite Ivy Bridge, Thomas Parr,
the " olde olde man," as he was called, had lodgings
when he came to London, to be shown as a curiosity to
Charles I. The authority for this fact is a Mr. Green
ing, who, in the year 1814, being then about ninety years
of age, mentioned it to Mr. J. T. Smith, saying, that he
perfectly weU remembered when a boy, having been
shoAvn the house by his grandfather, then eighty-eight
years of age. The house, which stood at the commence
ment of the present century, had been known for more
than fifty years as the " Queen's Head," public house.
On the other side of the Strand stood, up to a very
late period, Exeter Change, famous, among other matters,
for its wild beasts. This place, which is almost within
the recollection of the young generation, was erected on the
grounds of Exeter House, the residence of Lord Burleigh.
The first house built upon the spot appears to have been
the parsonage-house of the parish of St. Clement Danes,
but the ground having come into the possession of the
Crown, it was granted to various persons until the reign
of Elizabeth, when again reverting to the Crown, it was
bestowed by that sovereign upon her wise minister, then
Sir William CecU. The house which he built was then
called Cecil House, but on his being ennobled, it took
its designation from his title. The gardens extended,
on the west to a green lane, the site of the present
Southampton Street, and on the east to the spot Avhere
the Lyceum is buUt. The Queen once paid him a visit
in this house Avhen he Avas very iU Avith the gout.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 245
The Queen, it appears, wore a very high pyramidical
head-dress upon this occasion, so high that the master of
the household to Burleigh desired Her Majesty to stoop,
or she could not enter the door. " For your master's
sake I will stoop," replied the Queen, " but not for the
King of Spain."
Seeing, on her entrance, that Burleigh could not com
fortably stand, she insisted that he should sit in her
presence. The minister began to apologize for the bad
ness of his legs, but Avas stopped Avith that very civil and
very sensible speech which has been so often quoted.
" My Lord, Ave do not make use of you for the badness
of your legs, but for the goodness of your head."
Burleigh usually maintained a household of about
eighty persons here, and was very charitable to the poor
of his OAvn and the adjoining parishes. It is a pity for
his memory that he had so little appreciation of merit,
and that he poisoned the Queen's ear against the illus
trious and amiable author of the " Fairie Queene," and
withheld from him, in his distress, the relief that his
royal mistress was willing to afford him. Burleigh died
in this house in the year 1598, when it became the pro
perty of his eldest son Thomas, afterwards Earl of
Exeter. For many years the two sons of this nobleman
had mansions opposite to each other in the Strand,
Salisbury House, already mentioned, being the abode of
Robert, the second son of Burleigh. After the great fire
of London, Burleigh, or, as it was generally called,
Exeter House, was granted to the doctors of the ecclesi
astical law, and here the various Courts of Arches, Surro-

246 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
gates. Admiralty, and the Prerogative Court were kept
untU new places were found for them in Doctors' Com
mons. The lower part was then converted into an
Exchange for the sale of cutlery and fancy goods, and
contiuued in existence untU the year 1828 or 1829,
when it was removed, and the Strand widened.
Exeter HaU was erected upon part of the site of the
Exchange, as a place where the various charitable and
reUgious societies of the metropoUs might hold their
meetings, the inconvenience of hiring accommodation in
taverns or theatres having been long complained of It was
built in 1830, from the design of Mr. G. Deering. The
only part it presents towards the street is a portico of
two pUlars and two pilastres, over which is the Greek
inscription, "Philadelphia." The building comprises
several apartments used as the offices and committee-
rooms of various societies, besides two haUs, one accom
modating about eight hundred persons, and the other, on
the upper floor, spacious enough to hold three thousand.
It is a noble apartment, 136 feet long by 76 wide, and
adorned with the most magnificent organ in London,
made expressly for the use of the Sacred Harmonic
Society, whose concerts take place in it.
Running west and north of this edifice is Exeter
Street, a mean place, with no pretensions to beauty,
cleanliness, or good character. It was in this street that
Samuel Johnson had his first lodgings in London, at the
house of a miUiner or stay-maker, and where he was
often reduced to great straits for a subsistence.
A Uttle to the east, on the river side of the Strand,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 247
and adjoining the ancient palace of the Savoy, stood a
large mansion, Av;hich also boasted of many noble occu
pants. In the time of Henry VIIL it belonged to the
see of Carlisle, and was known by the name of CarUsle
House, but being exchanged with the King for Rochester
Place at Lambeth, it was granted by lienry to the
founder of the ducal family of Bedford, and became their
first tOAvn residence, being known by the names of Bed
ford House and RusseU House, In the reign of James I,
it was the property of the Earls of Worcester, and had
altered its name accordingly. The last earl of that
family dying in 1627, it descended to his son, who Avas
created Duke of Beaufort, and once more its designation
was exchanged. WhUe the Lord ChanceUor Clarendon's
great house was building in Piccadilly, he hired this
mansion of the Duke, paying him a rental of 500/. a-year
for it.
Worcester House being at length in a very dUapidated
state, was pulled down by the Duke of Beaufort, who
purchased another for himself at Chelsea, and built a
smaUer house in the Strand. In the year 1695 this was
accidentally burned down, as appears from the following
notice in No. 80 of the "Postman."
"On Saturday, in the evening, about five o'clock, a
violent fire broke out in Beaufort BuUdings, in the
Strand, in the house of John Knight, Esq., Treasurer of
the Custom-house, which, in less than two hours, burnt
that house down to the ground, and also consumed the
Duke of Beaufort's house and another."
The grounds were shortly afterwards cleared, and

248 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
some handsome houses, the present Beaufort BuUdings,
Avere erected on the site.
The Palace of the Savoy, Avithin the ancient precincts
of Avhich we have noAV arrived, Avas formerly one of the
most magnificent buildings upon the banks of the Thames.
The chapel attached to it, and which is not the original
edifice, but one rebuilt by George I., is the only remains
of this once venerable and historical pile. It obtained
its name from Peter de Savoy, uncle of Eleanor, queen
of Henry III., who, being on a visit to his niece in the
year 1245, obtained, by means of her influence over the
king, not only titles but possessions in England. He Avas
created Earl of Savoy and Richmond, and had a grant
of this piece of ground between the Strand and the
Thames. It appears from the following extract, ¦^•' there
were houses standing upon it at the time, which must
have been pulled down Avhen he built his palace : — " In
30 Henry III. the king granted to Peter de Savoy the
inheritance of those houses in the street called the Strand,
in the suburbs of London, and adjoining to the river of
Thames, formerly belonging to Brian de Lisle, paying
yearly to the king's exchequer, at the Feast of St.
Michael, three barbed arrows for all services." Peter de
Savoy not choosing to end his days in England, trans
ferred his mansion to the provost and chapter of Mont-
joy, of whom it was purchased after the death of Henry
III. by the queen, as a residence for her son Edmund,
afterAvards Earl of Lancaster. Henry, duke of Lancas-
* a. "Cart 30 Hen. 3. p. 1. m. ii. in Cedula^
b. c. d. Ex magno Registro Ducatus Lane' titulo Midx."

IN THE STEEETS OP LONDON. 249
ter, his son, repaired and partly rebuUt the palace, Avhich
still retained its original name, at an expense of upwards
of 50,000 marks. From this poAverful noble it descended
to one stiU more powerful, the famous John of Gaunt,
Avho lived here in almost royal state, and where — which is
a fact more interesting than his magnificence, — Geoffrey
Chaucer was his frequent guest.
Here, under the protection of the Duke and his ami
able duchess Blanche, Chaucer passed the happiest hours
of his life, and here also he found a wife in the person of
Philippa, a lady of the Duchess's household, and sister to
the Lady Catharine Swynford. Some of his happiest
poems were composed in the Savoy, and were on the
subject of its inmates ; among Avhich must be especiaUy
noticed the one entitled " Chaucer's Dream," which is an
aUegorical history of the loves of John of Gaunt and
Blanche of Lancaster, and of his own marriage Avith the
Lady Philippa. Whether the poet Avere married in the
Savoy, or in the neighbouring church, does not appear.
The lines in reference to the ceremony and the place of
it are — " On the morrow.
When CA^ery thought and every sorrow
Dislodg'd was out of mine heart.
With every woe and every smart ;
Unto a tent, prince, and princess,
Methought brought me and my mistress ;
And said we weren at full age.
There to conclude our marriage.
With ladies, knighten, and squiers.
And a great host of ministers :
Which tent was Church parochial.
Ordained was, in especial,

250 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
For the feast and for the sacre,
Where archbishop and archdiacre
Ysungen full out the service.
After the custom and the guise
Of holy Church's ordinance ;
And after that to dine and dance
Brought were we, and to divers plays."
During John of Gaunt's occupancy, the Savoy was
twice pillaged by a mob. The first occasion was in the
year 1376, when the Duke had made himself unpopular
by his bold speech to the Bishop of London in St. Paul's
church at the citation of Wickliffe. Lord Percy, the
friend of John of Gaunt, had requested that WickUffe
might be aUowed to sit ; but the Bishop of London re
plied, that he must stand up and remain uncovered, for
he appeared there as a criminal, and no criminal could
be aUowed to sit in the presence of his judges. John of
Gaunt in great anger turned to the Bishop, and ex
claimed, loud enough to be heard by the whole assembly,
" that he would humble his pride, and the pride of every
arrogant bishop in the kingdom." The prelate made
some reply, which increased the anger of the Duke of
Lancaster so much, that he turned pale in the face, and
whispered in the ear of the Bishop, that rather than sit
there and be insulted by a priest, he would drag him out
of the church by the hair of his head. The threat was
heard by the nearest bystander, and was soon whispered
from one to another tUl every body in the church was
aware of it. It then became rumoured among the po
pulace, who, anxious for the condemnation of WickUffe,
had assembled in great multitudes in the churchyard.
A cry immediately arose among them, and it was pro-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 251
posed to break into the church, and pull John of Gaunt
from the judgment-seat. At his departure he was
received with yeUs by the mob, who ran after and pelted
him with dirt. He was so exasperated against them,
that he proceeded immediately to Westminster, where the
Parliament was sitting, and introduced a motion that
from that day forth all the privileges of the citizens of
London should be annulled; that there should be no
longer a lord mayor, sheriff, or other popular magistrates,
and that the entire jurisdiction within the city should be
vested in Lord Percy, the chief Marshal of England.
When news of this proposal reached the citizens on the
foUowing day, they assembled in great numbers, swearing
to have the Ufe of the duke. After pillaging the Mar-
'shalsea, where Lord Percy resided, they proceeded to
the Savoy, and kUled a priest whom they found in the
house, and thought to be Lord Percy in disguise. They
then broke aU the valuable furniture, and threw the
fragments into the Thames, and left little more standing
than the bare waUs of the palace. John of Gaunt and
Lord Percy Avere dining at the house of a wealthy mer
chant in the city when this news reached them, and
from thence they escaped in disguise by rowing up the
river in an open boat, passing the Savoy at the very
moment while the mob were throwing the magnificent
furniture from the windows.
Five years afterwards a still more serious attack was
made upon the Savoy. John of Gaunt being particularly
obnoxious to the rebels under Wat Tyler, the whole body
of the insurgents, under the guidance of that chief marched
to the Savoy with the intention of burning it to the

252 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
ground. Proclamation, says Stow, was previously made
by the leaders that, as their object was not plunder, aU
the rich jewels, furniture, pictures, plate, and other articles,
should be burned or thrown into the Thames, and that
any one appropriating the property to his own uses
should suffer death. The Duke of Lancaster was then
absent pm-suing the war in Scotland, and the attack being
sudden, no means of defence were taken by those in
possession of the palace. It is not true, as stated in
" Harding's Chronicle," and copied by other writers, that
the Duke Avas in the Savoy at the time, and fled into
Scotland in consequence. John of Gaunt was no such
craven ; and if he had been in London, and had fled, he
would not have fled to such a distance. No royal palace
in Christendom at that time contained greater wealth
than the palace of the Savoy ; and the greater portion of
it was destroyed. The rebels broke the vessels of gold
and silver into small pieces, and threw them into the
Thames; tore the rich hangings of velvet silk and
embroidered drapery, together with an immense quan
tity of linen and wearing-apparel into shreds, or burned
it; and the rings or jewels were bruised in mortars,
and the fragments thrown into the flames, or into the
river. It is said, that one of the insurgents being seen to
hide a valuable piece of plate in his bosom, was thrust
into the fire with his booty and burned to death, amid
the shouts of his felloAvs, Avho exclaimed that they were
freemen and lovers of justice, not thieves and robbers.
In the matter of wine they Avere less scrupulous, and
hundreds of them, breaking into the cellars, were soon in
a state of utter drunkenness. Thirty-two of them Avere

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 253
accidentally inclosed in a cellar, by masses of falling
stones and rubbish from the burning palace, where they
died of suffocation. Some of the rioters found a number
of barrels which they thought to contain gold and silver,
and flung them into the flames. They contained gun
powder; an awful explosion was the consequence, which
blew up the great hall, completely destroyed several
houses, and reduced the palace to a heap of ruins.
It does not appear that it was ever rebuilt. One of
the scenes in Shakspeare's affecting play of " Richard II."
is supposed to pass in a room of the Savoy, though at
the date it was nothing but a ruin. The Duke of Lan
caster must, however, have had some residence in London,
though historians have forgotten to mention Avhere it was.
Throughout the dismal civil strife of the red and white
roses, this house of the great ancestor of the Lancastrian
line remained a mournful spectacle to the Londoners of
the ravages of domestic warfare. In the reign of Henry
VII. the ground Avas cleared, and that prince founded an
hospital on its site, for the reception of one hundred poor
people. The building was begun by Henry VII., and
completed by his son in the fifteenth year of his reign.
The building was in the form of a cross, and over the
entrance gate, opposite the Strand, Avas the following
inscription: —
" Hospitium hoc iuopi turba Savoia vocatum,
Septimus Henricus fundavit ab imo Solo."
The hospital, which was dedicated to St. John the
Baptist, consisted of a master and four brethren, who
were to be in priests' orders, and officiate in their turns.
They were to stand alternately by day and night at the

254 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
gate, and if they saw any poor distressed persons they
were to ask them in and feed them. If such persons were
traveUers, they were to be lodged for the night and dis
missed on the foUowing morning, with a letter of recom
mendation to the next hospital, and as much money as
would defray their expenses on the road thither.
In the reign of Edward VI., part of the revenues of
the hospital were bestowed on the more recent institutions
of BrideweU and Christ Church. The motive for this
seems to have been the abuses which had crept into the
administration of its affairs. Stow, in speaking of its
condition at that time, says, that instead of being a
lodging for pilgrims and strangers, it became a refuge
for loiterers, vagabonds, and disreputable women; that
they lay aU day in the field, and were harboured there
at night, so that the hospital was rather a maintenance
of beggary; than any reUef to the poor.
Queen Mary, shortly after her accession, endowed it
with other lands in lieu of those of which it had been
dispossessed, and refurnished it with beds and bedding;
but its affairs continued to be sadly mismanaged, and, in
the twelfth year of Elizabeth, it was found necessary to
deprive Thomas Thurland, then master, of his office for
corruption and embezzlement of the hospital estates.
The mastership of the Savoy was an office promised
to the poet Cowley by Charles I., and afterwards by
Charles IL, neither very remarkable for keeping their
promises. Wood says, he lost it through certain persons,
enemies of the Muses, but who these persons were we
are not informed. When the office was finally bestowed
upon another by Charles IL, Cowley's disappointment was

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 255
great, and to add to his chagrin, his play, the " Cutter
of Coleman Street" was unsuccessful at the same time-
In his despondenc}', and with a view perhaps to shame
the Court for its base ingratitude to a man of genius, who
had besides served the Stuarts long and faithfuUy, he
wrote his weU-known "Complaint," a poem which Johnson
says excited more contempt than pity, probably because it
was a confession of weakness, Avhich in illustrious men
the envious and ill-natured are but too happy to see. By
such, and such only, could Cowley have been looked on
with contempt. In an anonymous satire published at
the time, he is represented as the "Savoy-missing CoAvley,
making apologies for his bad play." He shortly after
wards withdrew from courtly life, in which he had been
fed for so many years on the poisonous aliment of " hope
deferred," to the retirement of the country, where he
died. The Savoy, which as a charity appears never to have
answered the purposes of its founders, continuing to be
iU-governed by men who dissipated its revenues, was
finally suppressed in the reign of Queen Anne.
It was used as a barracks for five hundred soldiers,
and as a prison for deserters during the remaining part
of the eighteenth century, and until the approaches to
the New Waterloo, or as it Avas originally called the
Strand, Bridge in 1814, rendered its removal necessary.
The church of St. John the Baptist, or of St. Mary,
by which it is commonly, though erroneously, designated,
and the flight of steps leading from the Strand, are the
only remains of the ancient hospital. The church was
repaired and partially rebuilt in the reign of George I.

256 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Savoy Street, leading down to the German Church,
occupies the site of the Middle Savoy Gate, above
Avhich were the arms of Henry VII., and the inscription
setting forth that he was the founder. The coal-wharves
on the Thames occupy the site of the ancient river-front
of the hospital, and the houses in Lancaster Place, lead
ing to Waterloo Bridge, occupy the site of another portion
of the edifice.
In the church are several monuments of the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries ; and here, says Aubrey, in his
"Letters," vol. ni.p. 537, is buried George Wither, the poet.
He died on the 2nd of May, 1667, in his eightieth year,
and the exact place of his interment, according to Aubrey,
was within the east door of the church. There is no
stone to mark the spot where sleeps the author of the
beautiful song — ¦' Shall I, wasting in despair.
Die, because a woman's fair.''
and of many others as beautiful,.
In this chapel was buried another poet — venerable
Gawain Douglas, rightly named the Chaucer of Scotland,
and Anne Killigrew, celebrated by Dryden.
At the time when Fleet and May Fair marriages were
so notorious in London, it appears that the priest of the
Savoy Chapel carried on the same trade. The following
advertisement is taken from the " Public Advertiser" of
the 2nd January, 1754 : —
" Bv AuTHORiTA^. — Marriages performed with the utmost privacy,
decency, and regularity, at the Ancient Royal Chapel of St. John
the Baptist, in tho Savoy, where regular and authentic registers
have been kept from the time of the Reformation (being two hundred

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 257
years and upwards) to this day. The expense not more than one
guinea, tlie five-shilling stamp included. There are five private
ways by land to this chapel, and two by water."
The chapel also possessed the privUege of Sanctuary,
as appears from the foUowing extract from No. 180 of
"the Postman" for July, 1696 :—
" On Tuesday a person going into the Savoy to
demand a debt due from a person Avho had taken sanc
tuary there, the inhabitants seized him, and after some
consultation agreed, according to their usual custom, to
dip him in tar and roll him in feathers, after which they
carried him in a wheelbarrow into the Strand, and bound
him fast to the May-pole, but several constables and
others coining in, dispersed the rabble, and rescued the
person from their abuses."
We have now arrived at the great theatrical district of
London, and must forsake for awhile the straight paths
of the Strand, to wander in the crooked and mazy
thoroughfares of Drury Lane and Covent Garden, con
juring up at every step some reminiscence of poets and
players, and wits and artists, with whose names in these
purlieus the very air is thick.
Proceeding up Bedford Street, so named from the
noble owner of the district, we arrive within the area of
Covent Garden Market. This name, as is well knoAvn,
is a corruption of Convent Garden, so called from its
having originally been the garden of the convent belong
ing to the Abbots of Westminster. At the dissolution
of the religious houses, the estate was granted to John,
earl of Bedford, with an adjoining field called the Seven
Acres, afterwards formed into a street, and now caUed
Long Acre.
VOL. I, S

258 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
In our account of this neighbourhood, we must proceed,
if Ave can, not only with a due regard to time, but of proper
topographical order. Beginning with Covent Garden
Market and Theatre, we shaU take each of the streets in
regular succession, and when Ave have got through them
aU, proceed to Drury Lane Theatre, and treat it and its
neighbourhood after a simUar fashion — from thence
proceeding to Long Acre and Great Queen Street to
Lincoln's Inn Fields, we avUI make a circuit, and return
again into the Strand, to take our walk down it from
the Savoy, where we quitted it, to Temple Bar.
This little spot of ground wiU detain us long. Within
its small area aU the wits, since the days of Charles IL,
were accustomed to meet ; and leaving the pubUc career
of the players for the moment out of the question, we
shaU make acquaintance with them in the comfortable
arm-chairs and places of honour in tavern parlours, — we
shaU discourse upon the literary reminiscences of WUls'
and Button's — visit the place where BosweU was first
introduced to Johnson — ^look into the house where
Dryden spent his evenings — visit the burial-place of the
author of Hudibras — stand upon the doorway of the
house of Sir Peter Lely — and take a peep at the place
where Voltaire had lodgings when he visited England.
We shall begin, then, with the area which gave name
to the whole neighbourhood. Covent Garden has been
a market for fruit and vegetables, and the finest in
England, ever since the year 1634, when Francis, earl
of Bedford, cleared away the old buUdings and began the
formation of a new and handsome square. Inigo Jones
was the archftect he employed. The portico, or piazzas.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 259
of the north-eastern side, which stiU remain, were built
by him ; and the original intention was to have carried
them aU round the square, after the model of the celebrated
square in Arras. There was a continuation of the piazzas
on the south-east, which was accidentally burnt down,
and never rebuilt. The church was also erected from
the design of the same great architect. In Walpole's
" Anecdotes of Art," there is a story about this building
which deserves repetition, whether true or false. The
Earl is said to have told Inigo, that he wished to have as
plain and convenient a structure as possible, — something,
in short, a little better than a barn. The architect
replied that he would build a barn, but it should be the
handsomest in England. For this barn the Earl paid
4,500/. Many doubt the truth of the story altogether.
It was related to Walpole by the Speaker Onslow. Of
this church, which some have admired as one of the
master-pieces of Inigo Jones, Walpole said he could not
see any beauty in it. " The barn-roof over the portico,"
says he, in his "Anecdotes of Art," "strikes my eye
with as little idea of dignity or beauty as it could do if
it covered nothing but a barn." He adds in a note that,
in justice to its great architect, it must be confessed that
the defect is not in the architect, but in the order.
Ralph, himself an architect, is as loud in its praise in his
" Critical Review of Public Bmldings." He says, "The
church of St. Paul, Covent Garden, is one of the most
perfect pieces of architecture that the art of man can
produce. Nothing can be possibly imagined more
simple, and yet magnificence itself can hardly give
greater pleasure." The edifice was completely repaired
s ^

260 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
in the year 1788, at an expense of 11,000/., and the
exterior walls, which were formerly of brick, substantially
cased with Portland stone. Eleven years after, the
church was accidentally reduced to a shell by a fire that
broke out in consequence of the negligence of some
plumbers who were employed to repair the lead on the
roof The parishioners, notwithstanding the great ex
pense of the recent repairs, determined to restore it to its
original state, and Mr. Hardwick, the architect previously
employed, was entrusted with the work.
Several celebrated personages are buried in the church
and church-yard. First, in point of date, though he is
more notorious than celebrated, is Carr, earl of Somerset,
the favourite of James I., and the poisoner of Sir Thomas
Overbury. His daughter, sprung of an obscure stock,
both by the father's and mother's side, was a virtuous
and noble-minded woman, and, marrying the Earl of
Bedford, became herself the mother of one of the brightest
names in English history — Lord William Russell, the
martyr in the cause of freedom, and companion in death
with the noble Algernon Sydney. It Avas the connexion
of the infamous Carr with this family that led to his
burial in this church.
The next in point of date is the author of Hudibras.
Mr. LongTieville, of the Temple, the steady friend of
Butler, and who mainly supported him iu his latter
years, when the ungrateful Stuart upon the throne, Vi^hose
cause he had so greatly served, had deserted him, was
anxious to have buried the poet in Westminster Abbey.
He- solicited for that purpose the contributions of those
Avealthy persons, his friends, whom he had heard speak

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 261
in terms of admiration of Butler's genius and of respect
for his character, but none of them Avould contribute,
although he offered to head the Ust with a considerable
sum. Mr. Longiieville then buried his friend at his own
expense in this church, with the greatest privacy, but
very decently, himself and seven other persons foUowing
to the grave. The exact place of sepulture is described
by his editor, Dr. Zachariah Grey, as being " at the Avest
end of the churchyard, on the north side, under the wall
of the said church, and under that wall which parts the
yard from the common highAvay." A monument Avas
erected in Westminster Abbey to Butler's memory forty-
one years after his death, by Mr. John Barber, a citizen
of London. Another monument has more recently been
erected to mark the spot where his remains are moulder
ing, with the following inscription —
" A few plain men, to pomp and pride unknown.
O'er a poor bard have raised this humble stone ;
Whose wants alone his genius could surpass.
Victim of zeal, the matchless Hudibras !
What, though fair Freedom suifer'd in his page?
Reader ! forgive the author — for the age.
How few, alas, disdain to cringe and cant,
When 'tis the mode to play the sycophant.
But oh! let all be taught from Butler's fate.
Who hope to make their fortune by the great,
That wit and pride are always dangerous things.
And little faith is due to courts and kings."
Sir Peter Lely is also buried in this church. He had
a house in the square, where he lived in great magni
ficence. The original name of the family was Vander-
vaes; but Sir Peter's father, a gaUant felloAv and an

262 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
officer in the army, having been born at a perfumer's
shop, the sign of the lily, was commonly known by
the name of Captain Lily, a name which his son
thought to be more euphonious to English ears than
Vandervaes, and which he retained when he settled here,
with the slight alteration in the speUing. After Sir Peter's
death, his valuable collection of prints was sold by auc
tion at his house in Covent Garden, as appears by the
foUowing advertisement from the " London Gazette," of
the 16th February, 1687:—
" Upon Monday in Easter week will be exposed by public auc
tion, a most curious and valuable collection of drawings and prints,
made with great expense and care, by Sir Peter Lely, painter to
His Majesty. The drawings are all of the most eminent masters
of Italy, &c., being originals, and most curiously preserved. The
prints are all the works of Mark Antoine, after Rafael, and the
other best Italian Masters ; and of the best impressions and proof-
prints, in good condition and curiously preserved ; some are double
and treble. The sale will be in the house in Covent Garden, where
Sir Peter Lely lived."
Wycherley and Southerne, the dramatists, are also buried
in the church. The latter died at his lodgings some
where in Covent Garden. He was the friend of Dryden,
Pope, and Gray, and died in 1746, at the age of eighty-
five. He is described by Oldys "as a venerable old
gentleman, who used to attend the evening prayers at
the church of St. Paul, Covent Garden. He was always
neat and decently dressed ; commonly in black, with his
sUver sword and sUver locks."
Among other persons interred here are Joe Haines,
MackUn, and Estcourt, the comedians ; Closterman, the

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 263
artist ; Dr. Arne, the musician ; Sir Robert Strange, the
engraver ; and Dr. Walcot, better known as Peter Pindar.
In the open space opposite to the church, are erected
the hustings on occasions of a parliamentary election for
Westminster; where the wit sometimes flies about, and
sometimes the cabbage-stalks and turnips. We once heard
of a foreigner who came over to England expressly to
witness a contested election for Westminster, and the
scene in Covent Garden Market at the nomination and
poUing. He had been informed that the scene was pe-
cuUarly EngUsh, and that he could have no opportunity
so favourable to obtain an insight into the character of
our countrymen. Certainly all Europe could not offer a
paraUel exhibition; and so far the stranger was right.
Whether he came in the now-distant times of Sheridan
and Fox, or the more recent times of Burdett and
Evans, he would no doubt have been equaUy surprised
at what he saw. This piece of ground is also the
scene of Hogarth's weU-known picture of the "Frosty
Morning." We learn from the foUowing passage of Gay's " Trivia"
that this was a famous place in his day for the game of
foot-baU, which has now faUen into disuse in London,
and a revival of which the poUce are strictly forbidden
to aUow. " Where Covent Garden's famous temple stands.
That boasts the work of Jones' immortal hands.
Columns with plain magnificence appear.
And graceful porches lead along the square.
Here oft my course I bend, when lo ! from far,
I spy the furies of the foot-ball war.

264 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE.
The 'prentice quits his shop to join the crew.
Increasing crowds the flying game pursue ;
Thus, as you roll the ball o'er snowy ground.
The gathering globe augments with every round.
But whither shall I run? the throng draws nigh.
The ball now skims the street, now soars on high ;
The dex'trous glazier strong returns the bound.
And jingling sashes in his penthouse sound."
To recount the various reminiscences of all the taverns
and coffee-houses around Covent Garden would require a
volume. From the days when this place was first built
on untU our own, these taverns have been the chief resort
of the "men about town;" of playwrights, tragedians,
comedians, painters, cloAvns, dashing wits, and men of
pleasure. The reminiscences of the landlord of one of
them, " The Bedford," as they have never before been
published, will be found of interest, from the celebrity of
the names to which they refer. Mr. Stacie, who had
kept the " Bedford Arms," or been connected with it, for
more than fifty years, related to Mr. J. T. Smith, in 1812,
many anecdotes of the iUustrious visitors of his parlour
dming that period; but unfortunately Mr. Smith made
no note of the conversation until some time afterwards,
Avhen he had forgotten many of the circumstances. This
much he remembered, however, that John and Henry
Fielding, Hogarth, Churchill, Lloyd, and OUA^er Gold
smith, held a gossipping shilling-rubber club in the par
lour of the " Bedford" when Mr. Stacie kept it. Henry
Fielding was described by Stacie as "a very merry
fellow indeed," and ChurchUl as " a stupid-looking
man." The latter was doubtless true enough, for ChurchiU
had by this time become a confii-med rake and di'unkard.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 265
which no man can be long, Avithout bearing the mark of
the beast upon his face. It was at one of these whist
meetings that Churchill quarrelled A^ith Hogarth, and
used very insulting language towards him. ChurchiU,
swollen with pride, (for his foolish admirers had told
him that he excelled Pope in poetry, though Johnson,
more just in his estimate of his powers, publicly called
him a " very shaUow felloAv,") perpetuated the quarrel
by publishing some foolish verses, (there are no less than
654 of them,) called an "Epistle to Hogarth," in which
the great artist was accused of every crime, and of all
didness ; and represented as a man to whom in others
" Genius and merit were a sure ofi'ence,
And whose soul sicken'd at the name of sense.''
Hogarth had his revenge ; and the stolid sensual face
of the rhymester has been handed down to posterity in
" Bruin." Among other frequenters of the " Bedford" Avas Shuter,
the comedian, but he came less often than those above-
named. He preferred Ioav ale-houses. In the early part of
Mr. Stacie's career there was a tavern in Covent Garden,
kept by a woman called Moll King. She was very
witty, and her house Avas much frequented, though it
Avas little better than a shed. " Noblemen and the first
beaux," said garrulous Mr. Stacie, " after leaving Court,
would go to her house in full dress, Avith SAvords and
bags, and in rich brocaded silk coats, and walked and
conversed with persons of every description. Moll
would serve chimney-sweepers, gardeners, and the mar
ket-people, in common with her lords of the highest

266 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
rank. Mr. Apjjeece, a taU thm man in rich dress, was
her constant customer. He was called CadwaUader by
the frequenters of MoU's."
But the taverns and old houses of Great RusseU
Street and Bow Street claim more attention. For who
can forget that in the former were Tom's and Button's 1
and that BosweU first made the acquaintance of Samuel
Johnson in RusseU Street 1 and that in Bow Street was
WUl's, the grand resort of Dryden and the Avits of his
day 1 Many wUl be pleased to learn that these celebrated
houses are still in existence, though they are no longer
used for the same purposes as before ; the Clubs of St.
James's Street having long since extinguished, if we may
use such a word in reference to them, the coffee-houses
of our ancestors. The house No. 1 7, Great RusseU Street,
is the identical Tom's.
In the preface to a recent publication of Mr. TUl's,
"Descriptive Particulars of EngUsh Coronation Medals,"
that gentleman gives the foUowing account of No. 17.
" I cannot let slip the present opportunity in mention
ing that the house in which I reside, (17, Great Rus
seU Street, Covent Ga!rden,) was the famous Tom's
Coffee-house, memorable in the reign of Queen Anne,
and for more than half a century afterwards : the room
in which I conduct my business, as a coin dealer, is
that which, in 1764, by a guinea subscription among
nearly seven hundred of the nobility, foreign ministers,
gentry, and geniuses of the age, became the card-room
and place of meeting for many of the now iUustrious
dead, tUl 1768, when a voluntary subscription among

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 267
its members induced Mr. Haines, the then proprietor,
(and the father of the present occupier of the house,)
to take in the next room westward, as a coffee-room;
and the whole floor en suite was constructed into card
and conversation rooms. Here assembled Dr. John
son, Garrick, Murphy, Dr. Dodd, Dr. Goldsmith, Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Foote, Moody, Beard, Count Bruhl,
Dr. MacNamara, Sir PhUip Francis, (the supposed
author of "Junius,") George Colman the elder, the
Dukes of Northumberland and Montague, the Marquises
of Granby and Monthermor, Admiral Lord Rodney,
Hemy Brougham, Esq., (the father of the present Lord
Brougham,) Dr. Kennedy, (a distinguished Numismatist,)
George Steevens, Warner, and other Shakespearean com
mentators, with a bevy and host of talent, of great and
distinguished names, the representatives of foreign courts
to England, and many others, all of whom have long
since passed to that bourne from which no traveller
returns." Button's Coffee House is spoken of in the "Guardian"
as "over against Tom's, in Covent Garden." Addison
was the great patron of this house, and by his influence
it became the chief resort of the literary Whigs of that
day, as WUl's was of the literary Tories. Button was
once servant to Lady Warwick, with whom Addison con
tracted so dignified but uncomfortable a marriage, and
though at first but a waiter in the house, it was always
known by his name. In the 114th number of the
" Guardian" it is mentioned that a lion's head was set up
at Button's, " a proper emblem of knowledge and action,
being aU head and paws," for the reception of the

268 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
"Guardian's" correspondence. After Addison's death
the prosperity of Button began to wane, and a few years
afterAvards his name appeared in the books of St. Paul's,
Covent Garden, as receiving an allowance from the
parish. Mr. Till, in his work already quoted, gives us
the following account of the after-fate of the lion's head,
from which it appears that it is still in existence, and
preserved as a relic by the house of Russell : —
"Addison's lion's head, reckoned the best head in
England, after having become a receptacle of papers, and
a spy for the 'Guardian,' was moved to the 'Shake
speare's Head Tavern,' under the Piazza in Covent
Garden, kept by a person named Toi&kyns; and, in
1751, was, for a short time placed in tii^' Bedford Coffee
House,' immediately adjoining the 'Shakespeare Tavern,'
and there employed as a medium of literary communica
tion by Dr. John HiU, author of the ' Inspector.' In
1769, Tomkyns was sucq/°4pd by his waiter, named
Campbell, as proprietor of the tavern and lion's head,
and by him the latfcM"w/4s retained till 1804^ when it was
jDurchased by the lim Charles Richardson, after whose
death, in 1827, it vtevolved to his son, and has since
become the property of his grace the Duke of Bedford."
Addison was considered a sort of demi-god at Button's,
where he generaUy spent his evenings. " Addison," says
Pope, as we are informed by Spence, " usually studied all
the morning; then met his party at Button's, dined
there, and stayed for five or six hours, and sometimes
far into the night. I Avas of the company for about a
year, but found it too much for me. It hurt my health,
and so I quitted it." But this Avas not the only reason ;

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 269
— a coolness grcAv up between these illustrious men:
Pope confessed that he ahvays found in Addison some
thing more pleasing than he found in other men; but
Addison appears to have been envious and jealous ; and
to have grown less fond of the society of Pope, as the
latter became more celebrated. The favourable recep
tion his proposals met with for translating the " lUad,"
Avas not pleasing to the " Spectator ;" and Johnson says,
that from that moment his kindness to Pope seems to
have abated. When, finally, the " Iliad" was published,
the Addison party at Button's spoke of it with disrespect,
and lauded the rival version of " Tickell" as by far the
most faithful and elegant. " But I," said Pope, " have
the town on my side. But it is not uncommon for the
smaller party to supply by industry what it wants in
numbers. I appeal to the people as the rightful judges,
and while they are not inclined to condemn me, I shall
not fear the high-fliers at Button's." Many of these
high-fliers at Button's he afterwards damned to eternal
fame in the "Dunciad," and Ambrose PhiUips one of
-them, known in his day as " Namby Pamby," celebrated as
" slow and creeping," is said to have hung up a rod at
Button's, as an intimation of what Pope might expect if
he showed his face there. CoUey Cibber, Avho had much
greater provocation than Phillips, is said to have done
the same. Phillips Avas known for his courage and for
his superior dexterity with the sword, and Pope prudently
kept out of his way. Phillips, who became afterwards a
justice of the peace, never forgave the satirist; and
used to mention him, whenever he could get a man in

270 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
authority to listen to him, as an enemy to the Govern
ment. Among other weU-known wits who made Button's
their head-quarters, must be mentioned Swift, Steele,
Arbuthnot, Savage, Eustace BudgeU, Martin Folkes, and
Drs. Garth and Armstrong — both able physicians and
pleasing poets.
We shaU have more to say of the coffee-houses of
the last centmy when we arrive at WUl's, and cUscourse
upon Dryden, the tutelary divinity of the place. In
the meantime, before we leave Great RusseU Street,
we must remember that at No. 8, James BosweU was
first introduced to Samuel Johnson, to the very great
deUght of the former, and to the no smaU entertain
ment of aU lovers of light Uterature ever since. The
house was then kept by Davies, the bookseUer, whose
character cannot be better described than in the words
of BosweU himself " Mr. Thomas Davies, the actor,"
says he, "who then kept a bookseUer's shop in Rus
sell Street, Covent Garden, told me that Johnson was
very much his friend, and came frequently to his house,
where he more than once invited me to meet him ; but
by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented
from coming to us. Mr. Davies was a man of good
understanding and talents, with the advantage of a
liberal education. He was a friendly and very hospitable
man. Both he and his wife, who had been celebrated
for her beauty, though upon the stage for many years,
maintained an uniform decency of character; and John
son esteemed them, and lived in as easy an intimacy with

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 271
them as any family which he used to visit. Mr. Davies
recoUected several of Johnson's remarkable sayings, and
was one of the best of the many imitators of his voice and
manner while relating them. He increased my impatience
more and more to see the extraordinary man whose works
I highly valued, and whose conversation was reported to
be so peculiarly exceUent. At last, on the 1 6th of May,
when I was sitting in Mr. Davies' back parlour, after
having drank tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson un
expectedly came into the shop; and Mr. Davies, having
perceived him through the glass-door in the room we
were sitting in, advancing towards us, he announced his
awftd approach, somewhat as an actor in the part of
Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of
his father's ghost — ' Look, my Lord, it comes.' Mr. Davies
mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to
him. I was much agitated, and recollecting his prejudice
against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to
Davies, 'Don't teU him where I come from.' 'From
Scotland,' cried Davies, roguishly. ' Mr. Johnson,' said
I, 'I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help
it.' I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as a
light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as
a humiUating abasement at the expense of my country.
But however that might be, this speech was somewhat
unlucky, for with that quickness of wit for Avhich he was
so remarkable, he seized the expression, ' come from
Scotland !' which I used in the sense of being of that
country ; and as if I had come away from it, or left it, he
retorted, ' That, Sir, I find is what a great many of your
countrymen cannot help.' This stroke stunned me a

272 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
good deal ; and when we had sat down, I felt myself not
a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of Avhat might
come next." Boswell then goes very minutely through
their conversation ; and having presumed to differ with
this great bear, Avith regard to the liberality of Garrick,
he got such a rebuff, that he began to fear that the hope
he had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was
blasted. "And in truth," continued Bozzy, "had not
my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution
uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have
deterred me from making any further attempts. Fortu
nately, however, I remained upon the field not wholly
discomfited." They got on better together at a later hour, and Davies
having left them alone for a short time, the Doctor hav
ing no one to exhibit his pomposity to, answered the
timid remarks of his humble and zealous admirer with
more civility. "In short," adds Boswell, " I was satis
fied that though there Avas a roughness in his manner,
there was no ill-nature in his disposition. Davies fol
lowed me to the door; and when I complained to him a
little of the hard blows AA-hich the great man had given
me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying,
' Don't be uneasy; I can see he likes you very well.'"
Turning from Great Russell Street into Bow Street, we
arrive at the head-quarters of the poets in the days of
Dryden, and of the metropolitan police in our own. Sir
Walter Scott, in his "Life of Dryden," furnishes us
with much interesting gossip relative to the poet lau
reate, from which, and from various contemporary pas
sages in plays and poems, it would appear that Bow

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 273
Street was then the most fashionable part of London, —
famous as Bond Street and Regent Street have since
become as the Avalk or lounge of the exquisites and fine
gentlemen about toAvn. In the epilogue to one of Dry
den's plays, spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle, is this pas
sage : —
" I've had to-day a dozen billet-doux.
From fops, and wits, and cits, and Bow Street beaux.''
Sir Walter Scott remarks on this, that Avith merely a
slight alteration in the spelling, a modern poet would
have written Bond Street beaux. A billet-doux from
Bow Street, he adds justly, would now be more alarming
than flattering.
Jacob Tonson, the booliseller, had a house in Bow
Street, in which he drove some of his hardest bargains
Avith the poet. The bookseller was a Whig, the poet a
Tory, and it suited the pecuniary interests of the former,
that Dryden's forthcoming translation of Virgil should
be dedicated to King William. Dryden would not con
sent, although Tonson, in furtherance of his own vicAvs,
had directed the engraver employed upon the illustrations
of the Avork, " to aggravate," as Sir Walter Scott plea
santly expresses it, " the nose of ^neas in the plates
into a sufficient resemblance to the hooked promontory
on the king's countenance." Dryden still held out, — for
though in want of money he had a conscience. Tonson
considering, like other tradesmen, that this was very
presumptuous in a man who lacked ten guineas, stopped
the supplies to bring him to reason. Still the poet re
mained conscientious ; and, faiUng to induce Tonson to
accommodate him by fair means Avith the money he
VOL. I, T

274 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
needed, he sent him the following verses to his house in
Bow Street, as a poetical portrait of a shabby book
seller : — " With leering looks, bull-faced, and freckled fair.
With two left legs and Judas-coloured hair.
And frouzy pores that taint the ambient air."
" And teU the dog when you deliver it," said Dryden to
his messenger, " that the man who wrote these liues can
write more !" The money was paid immediately.
The gaUant and handsome Wycherley, the dandy and
dramatist, had lodgings in Bow Street, where Charles II.
once paid him a visit, when he was ill. So generous was
the prince upon this occasion, when his generosity was
not needed, that he gave Wycherley 500Z. to pay the
expenses of a journey to the south of France, which he
recommended for the benefit of his health. On his
return, Wycherley stayed some time at Tunbridge WeUs,
where he made the acquaintance of the Countess of
Drogheda, whom he afterwards married.
Their courtship thus happened: — As Wycherley and
his friend, a Mr. Fairburn, were passing a bookseller's
shop, they saw a young and very beautiful lady stop and
inquire for the " Plain Dealer," of which Wycherley was
the author. "Madam," said Mr. Fairburn, (we quote
Cibber's Life of the Poet,) " since you are for the ' Plain
Dealer,' there he is for you," putting Mr. Wycherley
towards her. "Yes," says Mr. Wycherley, "this lady
can bear plain dealing, for she appears to be so accom
plished, that what would be a compliment to others
would, when said to her, be plain dealing." " No, truly
sir," said the lady, " I am not without my faults any

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 275
more than the rest of my sex ; and yet, notwithstanding
aU my faults, I love plain dealing, and am never more
fond of it than when it teUs me of a fault." " Then,
madam," says Mr. Fairburn, "you and the Plain
Dealer seem by heaven designed for each other." This
lady was the Countess of Drogheda, a young widow, as
rich as she was beautiful ; and this was the beginning of
an acquaintance which ended in their marriage. The
King was much displeased at the match, and would not
receive Wycherley afterwards. They resided at the
bachelor-lodgings of the dramatist in Bow Street. The
lady was very fond but very jealous; and when Wych
erley occasionaUy went to the " Cock Tavern," which was
exactly opposite his door, he was obUged to prevail upon
the drawer to open the windows, while his lady did the
same at home, that she might convince herself there was
no woman in the company.
The " Cock Tavern" was the resort ot the rakes and
Mohocks of that day. An infamous frolic is related of
Sir Charles Sedley and others at this house, which is
thus told by Johnson, in his " Life of SackvUle, lord
Dorset:" — "SackviUe, who was then Lord Buckhurst,
with Sir Charles Sedley and Sir Thomas Ogle, got drunk
at the " Cock" in Bow Street, by Covent Garden, and going
into the balcony exposed themselves to the public in very
indecent postures. At last, as they grew warmer, Sedley
stood forth naked, and harangued the populace in such
profane language, that the public indignation was awak
ened. The crowd attempted to force the door, and being
repulsed, drove in the performers with stones, and broke
the windows of the house. For this misdemeanour they
T 2

276 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
were indicted, and Sedley was fined five hundred pounds.
What was the sentence of the others is not known.
Sedley employed KilligroAV and another to procure a
remission of the King, but (mark the friendship of the
dissolute !) they begged the fine for themselves, and exacted
it to the last groat."
Bow Street being the resort of such gentry as these,
it is not to be wondered at if it became the resort of the
vicious in a humbler sphere. In the time of Gay, the
pickpockets were abundant, and a description of thieves,
now extinct — the wig and sword stealers — were not un
frequent both here and in other districts : —
" Where the mob gathers, swiftly shoot along.
Nor idly mingle in the noisy throng ;
Lured by the silver hilt amid the swarm.
The subtile artist will thy side disarm;
Nor is thy flaxen wig with safety worn :
High on the shoulder, in a basket borne,
Lurks the sly boy, whose hand, to rapine bred,
Plucks ofi' the curling honours of thy head."
Wigs in those days were worth stealing, being some
times of the value of forty or fifty pounds, and in most
cases worth from ten to fifteen. A hat was never Avorn
over them, but carried under the arm. Dryden speaks
of the periwig of a Bow Street dandy as one that " the
touch of hat never profaned." Thus the theft Avas not
only profitable, but comparatively easy ; and the method
of performing it, as described by Gay, was certainly
ingenious. No modern improvements in the art of thiev
ing can stand in competition Avith it.
Will's Coffee-house, the predecessor of Button's, and
even more celebrated in its time than that, stood in Bow

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 277
Street. It is an error to suppose, as many do, that the
site of it is in Lincoln's Inn Fields, where there is at
present a coffee-house of the same name. It was origi
nally called the "Red Cow," and then the "Rose," and stood
near the corner of Rose Street, noAV called Rose Alley,
to Avhich it gave name. The room in which Dryden Avas
accustomed to sit, was on the first floor, and his place
Avas the place of honour by the fireside in winter, and at
the corner of the balcony overlooking the street in the
fine weather. It appears from Malcolm, in his " Londi-
nium RecUvivum," quoting from Spence, that the com
pany did not sit in separate boxes, after the unsocial
fashion of taverns and public-houses at the present day,
but at open tables in various parts of the room, as at the
clubs in England, and common taverns on the Continent.
The appeal was made to Dryden upon any literary dis
pute, and here, as in other similar places of meeting, the
visitors divided themselves into parties ; and we are told
by Ward, that the young beaux and Avits, who seldom
approached the principal table, thought it a great honour
to have a pinch out of Dryden's snuff-box. We also
learn, from the following anecdote, preserved by Spence,
some particulars of Dryden's conversation at this place :
— Dean Lockyer says, " I was about seventeen Avhen I
fii'st came up to town, and was an odd-looking boy, with
short rough hair, and that sort of awkAvardness which
one always brings up at first out of the country with
one. However, in spite of my bashfulness and appear
ance, I used now and then to thrust myself into Will's,
to have the pleasure of seeing the most celebrated Avits
of that time who then resorted thither. The second

278 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
time that ever I was there, Mr. Dryden Avas speaking of
his own thiugs, as he frequently did, especiaUy of such
as had been lately pubUshed. ' If anything of mine is
good,' says he, ' it is Mac Flecnoe ; and I value myself
the more upon it, as it is the first piece of ridicule written
in heroics.' On hearing this, I plucked up my spirit so
far as to say, in a voice but just loud enough to be heard,
' that Mac Flecnoe was a very fine poem, but that I had
not imagined it to be the first that was ever writ that
way.' On this Dryden turned short upon me, as sur
prised at my interposing ; asked me how long I had been
a dealer in poetry; and added, with a smile, 'Pray, sir,
what is that you did imagine to have been writ so
before f I named BoUeau's 'Lutrin' and Tassoni's
' Secchia Rapita,' which I had read, and knew Dryden
had borrowed some strokes from each. ' 'Tis true,' said
Dryden; 'I had forgotten them.' A little after, Dryden
went out, and in going spoke to me again, and desired
me to come and see him the next day. I was highly
deUghted with the invitation, went to see him accord
ingly, and was weU acquainted with him ever after as
long as he lived." In the paucity of materials relating
to the manners and conversation of Dryden this anec
dote is not a Uttle valuable. The poet appears in an
amiable light in it ; and a man of less kindness of heart
and good sense would have been for ever offended at
being thus corrected by a raw lad in the presence of
strangers. It bears out the character grren him by his
most intimate and attached friend, "He was," says
Congreve, "of a nature exceedingly humane and com
passionate, ready to forgive injuries, and capable of a

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 279
sincere reconcUiation with those who had offended him.
His friendship, where he professed it, went beyond his
profession. He was of a very easy and very pleasing
access, but somewhat slow, and, as it were, diffident in
his advances to others. He had that in his nature
which abhorred intrusion into any society whatever
He was extremely ready and gentle in his correction ot
the errors of any writer who thought fit to consult him
and fuU as ready and patient to admit the reprehensions
of others, in respect of his own oversights or mistakes."
Prior, in his " Town and Country Mouse," gives us a
little additional insight into these nights at WiU's, when
Dryden was present. The Unes are complimentary to
Dryden, though it is evident the writer did not intend
them to be so.
" As I remember, said the sober mouse,
I've heard much talk of the wit's coffee-house ;
Thither, says Brindle, shalt thou go, and see
Priests sipping coffee, sparks and poets, tea.
Here rugged frieze, there quality well drest,
These baffling the Grand Seignor, those the test ;
And there shrewd guesses made, and reasons given,
That human laws were never made in heaven.
But, above all, what shall oblige thy sight,
And fiU thy eye-balls with a vast delight.
Is the poetic judge of sacred wit.
Who does i' th' vastness of his glory sit;
And as the moon, who first receives the light
With which she makes these nether regions bright,
So does he shine, reflecting from afar
The rays he borrowed from a better star.
For rules which from Corneille and Rapin flow.
Admired by all the scribbling herd below;
From French tradition, while he does dispense
Unerring truths, 'tis schism, — a damned offence.
To question his, or trust your private sense."

280 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Pope, before he Avas twelve years of age, conceived
that admiration for Dryden, which he "encouraged for the
remainder of his life. Dryden's versification he even then
considered his model, and he was impressed Avith such
veneration, that he persuaded some friends to take him
to Will's Coffee House, and Avas delighted that he could
say he had seen Dryden. Pope afterAvards described
him as a " plump man Avith a down look, and not very
conversible." Who wiU not join with Dr. Johnson, in
the wish, that Dryden could have known the value of the
homage that was paid him, and foreseen the future
greatness of his young admirer?
Will's Coffee House being the grand resort of Avits and
critics, it is not surprising that it should become also the
head-quarters of envy, slander, and detraction. Where
personal malice against a successful, or jealousy of a rival
author, could not vent themselves in print for want of
those vehicles which are so abundant in our own day,
they Avere vented, viva voce, in the coffee-room. Here
lampoons were read in manuscript, and he who brought
most of them was the best companion, and most enter
taining feUow. Here new jokes were first put into circu
lation ; here was the heart of wit, whence the streams
Avere distributed through their several channels to the
furthest extremities of the town ; here was the vestibule
to the temple of literary renown, thronged with aspi
rants Avho could get no further, and who shoAved but little
mercy to those who could, unless, perchance, they hoped
to advance themselves under cover of their wing, and
gain renoAvn as the mere adjunct to a greater man than
themselves. Dryden, though emphatically the great man

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 281
at WUl's, was not alloAved to escape the shafts of envy
or ill-nature, which Avere continually shot at all reputa
tions by the inferior frequenters of the place. In the
course of time one man became the general mouth-piece
of all the libellers and satirists. Whenever a new lam
poon was made, the author brought it to him, and he
read it aloud at WiU's, or distributed copies of it in ma
nuscript to all who applied for it. This fellow's name
was Julian, and Dryden, who had suffered from his
slander, addressed an epistle to him, in Avhich his resent
ment betrayed him into a coarseness of invective only
worthy of the subject of his satires.
Sir Walter Scott, in his edition of Dryden's works,
has coUected the foUoAving particulars of this felloAV and
his vocation, which are interesting, though the subject
be worthless, inasmuch as they show the manners of the
age. He says, " the extremity of license in manners
necessarUy leads to equal license in personal satire, and
there never was an age in which both were carried to
such an excess as in that of Charles II. These per
sonal and scandalous libels acquired the name of lam
poons from the established burden formerly sung to
them, — "Lampone, lampone, camerada; lampone!"
Dryden suffered under these violent and invisible assaults
as much as any man of his age, to which his own words,
in several places of his Avritings, and also the existence of
many of the pasquinades themselves in the Luttrel Col
lection, bear ample witness. In many of his Prologues
and EpUogues he alludes to this rage for personal satire.

282 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
and the employment which it found for the half and
thi'ee-quarter wits and coui'tiers of the time. Upon the
general practice of Avriting lampoons, and the necessity of
finding some mode of dispersing them, which should diffuse
the scandal widely whUe the authors remained concealed,
was founded the self-created office of JuUan, " Secretary,"
as he caUed himself " to the Muses." This person at
tended WiU's, the " Wits' Coffee House," as it was caUed,
and dispensed among the crowds who frequented that
place of gay resort, copies of the lampoons which had
been privately communicated to him by then" authors,
" He is described," says Mr, Malone, " as a very drunken
feUow, and at one time Avas confined for a Ubel," From
a passage in one of the letters from the " Dead to the
Living," we learn that after JuUan's death, and the mad
ness of his successor, Summerton, "lampoon felt a sensible
decay, and there was no more that brisk spirit of verse
that used to watch the follies and vices of the men and
women of figm-e, that they could not start new ones,
faster than lampoon exposed them,"
It would be weU for oiu' age if it could boast that
these men had left no successors. We have, it is true,
no JuUans and Summertons to stand in a coffee-house,
and spm-t out their OAvn slander and other people's, but
Ave have weekly prints that perform an equivalent office,
and disperse the slander even: more effectuaUy. No
doubt these men got well cudgeUed sometimes, though
there is no record of the fact.
UnluckUy for himself Dryden was suspected to be the
author of a lampoon, though he had nothing in the world

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 283
to do with it, and was waylaid and beaten on his way
from WiU's to his own house in Gerrard Street. The
real libeUer was Lord Mulgrave, and the libeUee Lord
Rochester ; and the latter believing the common report of
the town, that Dryden was concerned in it, from some
praises in it bestowed upon his patron. Lord Mulgrave,
hired three bravoes to beat him in Rose AUey, on his way
home from WUl's. A reward of 50/. was offered in the
" Gazette" for the discovery of the perpetrators of this
outrage, but they remained concealed.
" The town," says Sir Walter Scott, " was, however, at
no loss to pitch upon Rochester as the employer of the
bravoes, with whom the public suspicion joined the
Duchess of Portsmouth, equaUy concerned in the supposed
affront thus avenged."
After Dryden's death in 1701, WiU's continued for
about ten years to be stUl the Wits' Coffee House, when
Addison, as already stated, transferred all the patronage
to Button's.
There was no theatre in Bow Street at this time,
though one had been in existence in Drury Lane for
about a century. The only rival to Drury Lane Theatre
in the days of Dryden, was Davenant's, in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, of which we shaU have to speak hereafter.
Covent Garden Theatre was first buUt in 1 733, and
opened by Rich, the harlequin, under the patent of
Davenant, After various alterations in the course of
years, it was almost whoUy rebuilt in 1787. It had no
front in Bow Street at that time, being surrounded by
private houses and shops. It was again enlarged in
1792,

284 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
On the 20th of September, 1808, about four o'clock
in the morning, the theatre was discovered to be on fire,
and in less than three hours, though the greatest exertions
Avere made to save it, the whole of the interior was
destroyed, together with the library, most of the scenery,
and seven of the adjoining houses, fronting to Bow
Street. The value of the property destroyed was up-
Avards of 107,000/., of which the insurances only covered
about 50,000/. By the faUing in of the roof several
firemen and other persons, in all nineteen, lost their
lives, and many others were seriously injured.
The theatre Avas at that time under the direction of
]\Iessrs. Harris and J. P. Kemble, and great efforts were
made by them, in which they were cordially aided by the
pubUc, to buUd a new theatre within the foUowing year.
The architect employed was Mr. Smirke ; the houses in
Bow Street were all cleared away, and in less than
twelve months after the foundation was laid, the present
building Avas completed. It is an elegant structure of
the Doric order, built on the model of the Temple of
Minerva at Athens.
The night of its opening, September 18, 1809, wiU be
ever memorable in the annals of the stage, as then began
the famous, long-contested, bitter, but happUy unsanguinary
wars, which are immortaUzed under the name of O.P.
There is nothing cabalistic in these letters, although these
dissensions, of which they are the name, were doubtless
in the first place the work of a cabal, which soon ex
tended itself over the town, and drove it at last from its
propriety. In consequence of the great expense of the new buUd-

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 285
ing, it was deemed advisable by the managers to raise
the prices of admission from three shillings and sixpence
to four shillings for the pit, and from six shillings to
seven shillings for the boxes. This announcement, Avhich
was made some weeks previous, excited much angry
comment in the newspapers, and as soon as the curtain
drew up on the night of opening, the people in the pit
made such an uproar, that not a word was audible the
whole evening. Their cry was " Old Prices," Avhich they
kept up without intermission for hours, Avhen some
magistrates, who happened to be present, read the Riot
Act from the stage, and some of the most noisy were
taken into custody.
On the next night the riot was still more violent, and
placards bearing the words " Old Prices" were introduced
into the pit. For six nights in succession every variety
of noise Avas made, by trumpets, cat-calls, watchmen's
rattles, hooting, hissing, groaning, and the imitation oi
the barking of dogs, the mewing of cats, the braying of
asses, and the lowing of bulls, till at last the actors made
no efforts to proceed with their parts, but merely walked
on the stage to see how the row went on, and then
walked off again. At last it M^as found necessary to shut
up the house. A statement of the affairs of the theatre
Avas drawn up, and submitted to the arbitration of a
committee of gentlemen, who decided, after a few days,
that the average profits of the six preceding years had
been but 6f per cent., and that, even under the advanced
prices of the then season, owing to the great expense of
rebuilding so magnificent a theatre, the profits would be
but 3^ per cent, upon the capital expended, while a

286 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
return to the Old Prices could only be effected at the
ruinous loss of 15s, per cent. It was hoped that this
statement would satisfy the play-goers, who by this time
had assumed the name of O.P.s, but they were of opinion
that this was not a true statement, and that inordinate
salaries, which might advantageously be retrenched, were
given to Madame Catalini, and other performers. The
consequences were, that on the night of re-opening, the
same system was recommenced. Plays were announced,
but never performed. Kemble, foi-merly so great a
favourite, was assailed with every opprobrious epithet;
placards were stuck up in every quarter of the pit, and
affixed on the top of poles, to be thrust into the faces of
the actors when they appeared on the stage. Besides
cat-caUs, trumpets, French bugles, and watchmen's rattles,
dustmen's bells were introduced into the pit and galleries
to increase the uproar, until at last no person who valued
his tympanum would venture into the house. The town
seemed to have lost its senses on this subject, and O.P.
handkerchiefs and O.P. waistcoats became aU the rage;
the latter, which were only worn in the theatre, had an
0 embroidered upon one flap, and a P on the other. O.P.
hats, adorned with the same letters, were also worn ; and
even ladies sported O.P. bonnets. O.P. toothpicks and O.P.
seals were also manufactured, and had a great sale. The
O.P. handkerchiefs led to O.P. flags, which were brought
into the galleries, and unfurled at intervals amid great
applause. The attempts of the constables, and boxers in
the manager's pay, to capture the bearers of flags and
placards, led to constant fights, and although many were
apprehended every evening, and held to baU at Bow

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 287
Street Police Office, new men were constantly found to
keep up the same system.
After some weeks, it was thought that the crowd, who
paid to join in the disturbance, were, notwithstanding all
the uproar they created, fiUing the manager's pockets,
and it was thereupon determined by the O.P.s that they
would not, in future, favour him with their company till
the half-price began. Thus, frequently, the first part of
the night's performances passed off with comparative
quiet, but the 0,P, had the remainder to themselves.
The curtain generally feU at an early hour, when the
O.P.s, after singing " God save the King" in full chorus,
got up sham fights in the pit, scrambled over the benches
into the boxes, and invaded the stage, concluding the
whole by dancing the famous O.P. dance. This was
done by a number of fellows forming into a ring, and
stamping alternately with the right and left foot, call
ing out "O.P." at intervals of a minute or so, Avith a
drawling and monotonous sound, sometimes loud enough
to be heard in the street.
Several lawsuits and prosecutions were the result, the
most important of which were those brought by or
against a barrister of the name of Clifford, who had,
somehow or other, become the acknowledged leader of
the O.P.s. Clifford brought an action for false imprison
ment against Brandon, the box-keeper, for giving him
into custody as a ringleader in these disturbances, and he
gained his cause, with 5/. damages. This victory in
creased the numbers and pertinacity of the O.P.s, and the
placards introduced into the pit bore the words "A

288 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
British jury for ever," in addition to the letters " O.P."
For sixty-six nights, in all, these riots continued, when
they were suddenly brought to a close by a concession on
the part of Mr. Kemble.
On the occasion of a grand public dinner, given at the
"Crown and Anchor Tavern" to Mr. Clifford, to cele
brate his victory over the box-keeper, Mr. Kemble made
his appearance among the bacchanalians, to their no
little surprise, and a conference being held in an ad
joining room, a treaty was ultimately agreed upon, by
Mr. Kemble as captain of the defensive, and by Mr. Clif
ford as generalissimo of the offensive belligerents. The
terms were, that the boxes should remain at the ad
vanced price, that the pit admissions shoiUd be reduced
to 3s. 6d., and that aU prosecutions and actions on both
sides shoiUd be immediately stayed. This compromise
was announced the same night at the theatre, where its
reception was not very cordial, the inveterate O.P.
insisting that Brandon, the box-keeper, should be in
stantly dismissed. To this the managers could not
consent, as the man's only fault was his zeal in the
service of his employers, and the pit, offended at the
refusal, once more danced the O.P. dance. On the
foUoAving night it was announced that Brandon had
resigned, and good humour was thus finally restored.
Mr. Kemble was greeted, on his apjiearance, with the
most rapturous applause; the various actors Avere seve-
raUy called upon to receive congratulations; and a
large placard, the last of its race, was exhibited in front
of the pit, bearing in letters a foot long, the welcome

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 289
words, "We are satisfied." And thus ended the
O.P. riots, which for months had kept the metropolis in
an uproar.
We might linger loug on the reminiscences of the
various actors Avho have figured upon the boards of this
theatre, but must close our account of it with this sketch
of the most remarkable event in its history, as Ave have
yet to make the circuit of the Avhole district of Covent
Garden. From Bow Street, the entrance to Avhicli has
been lately Avidened, Ave shall pass into Long Acre, and
notice the various streets in the neighbourhood, of Avhich
there is not anything to be said, and then through Great
Queen Street, into Lincoln's Inn Fields. From thence wo
shall make our way through Clare Market and its purlieus
to Drury Lane and its theatre, and then again by Cathe
rine Street into the Strand.
Long Acre, noAv inhabited chiefly by coach-makers
and the subordinate trades of painters, varnishers, wheel-
makers, sadcUers, and such like, was, in the reign of
Henry VIIL, an open field, called the Elms, from a row
of those trees that grew upon it. The next name it
acquired was the " Seven Acres," which Avas in the reign
of Charles I., when it was first laid out into streets,
changed into the Long Acre. In this street, as we learn
from the Notes to the "Dunciad," the weU-known
Edward Ward kept a public-house. Taylor, the "Water-
Poet," as he was caUed, also kept a public-house in it.
The foUowing notice of him appears in " Lord Somers's
Tracts,"- vol. III., p. 43 :—
"John Taylor, well known by the title of the Water-
Poet. He retained his veneration for the Stuart family
VOL. I. u

290 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
long after their more courtly panegyrists had found other
subjects of flattery ; and when, in his old age, he kept an
ale-house in Long Acre, he ventured to set up the sign
of the 'Mourning Crown;' but as this gave offence to
the saints of the commonwealth, he was forced to substi
tute his own head, with this motto —
' There's many a head stands for a sign ;
Then, gentle reader, why not mine V "
In " Chalmer's Apology" it is said, " Taylor was born
in 1584, and was, of course, the contemporary of Shake
speare, though twenty years younger. The waterman
must often have caUed on Shakespeare, who is said to
have Uved on Bankside. They must have chopp'd
verses together." The Notes to the "Dunciad" give
the foUowing account of him : " John Taylor, the water-
poet, an honest man, who owns he had not learned so much
as the accidence ; a rare example of modesty in a poet —
' I must confess I do want eloquence.
And never scarce did learn my accidence ;
For having got from possum to posset,
I there was gravelled, and could no further get.'"
" He wrote four-score books in the reigns of James I.
and Charles I., and afterwards, like Edward Ward, kept
an ale-house in Long Acre. He died in 1654."
Long Acre enjoys the pre-eminence of having pos
sessed the first Mug-house in London. The Tory riots
led to the Mug-house Clubs, in the days of the first George,
and wiU be noticed more particularly when we get to Fleet
Street, but the original house, which does not seem to
have been at all polftical, claims some notice. The fol
lowing account of ft appears in the "Journey through

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 291
England," and is quoted by Malcolm in his "Anecdotes
of London."
" But the most diverting or amusing of all, is the
' Mug House Club,' in Long Acre, where, every Wednes
day and Saturday, a mixture of gentlemen, lawyers, and
tradesmen, meet in a great room, and are seldom under a
hundred. They have a grave old gentleman, in his own
gray hairs, now within a few months of ninety years
old, who is their president, and sits in an armed chair,
some steps higher than the rest of the company, to keep
the whole room in order. A harp always plays aU the
time at the lower end of the room, and every now and
then one or other of the company rises and entertains
the rest with a song, and (by-the-bye) some are good
masters. Here is nothing drank but ale, and every gen
tleman hath his separate mug, which he chalks on the
table where he sits as it is brought in ; and every one
retires when he pleases, as from a coffee-house. The
room is always so diverted with songs, and drinking from
one table to another to one another's healths, that there
is no room for politics, or anything that can sour con
versation. One must be up by seven to get room, and
after ten the company are, for the most part, gone.
This is a winter's amusement that is agreeable enough to
a stranger for once or twice, and he is weU diverted with
the different humours when the mugs overflow.
" On King George's accession to the throne, the Tories
had so much the better of their friends to the Protestant
succession, that they gained the mobs on all pubUc days
to their side. This induced a set of gentlemen to esta-
bUsh Mug Houses in aU the corners of this great city,
u 2

292 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
for well-affected tradesmen to meet and keep up the
spirit of loyalty to the Protestant succession, and to be
ready, upon all tumults, to join their forces for the sup
pression of the Tory mobs."
It is alleged of Prior, the- poet, that after having spent
the evening with Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift,
he would go and smoke a pipe and drink a bottle of ale
with a common soldier and his Avife, in Long Acre,
before he went to bed. This woman, the soldier's Avife, —
some say a cobbler's and some an ale-keeper's wife, — was
the beauty whom he celebrates under the name of Chloe.
One of his poems to her begins thus, —
" When Chloe's picture was to Venus shown.
Surprised, the goddess took it for her own."
And another ends with the following, of which the Eng
lish is not very choice, or the rhyme very euphonious, —
" Then finish, dear Chloe, this pastoral war,
And let us, like Horace and Lydia, agree ;
For thou art a girl as much brighter than her.
As he was a poet sublimer than me."
Pope says, every body knew what a wretch this Avoman
Avas, and adds, on another occasion, " Prior was not a
right good man ; he used to bury himself for whole days
and nights together with this poor mean creature, and
often drank hard."
In Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, so named from
Henrietta, Queen of James I., died Paul Whitehead, the
Poet,\ on the 30th of December, 1774. He was buried
at Teddington, Avith the exception of his heart, which was
taken out as he requested in his will, enclosed in an urn,
and deposited in a mausoleum on the grounds of his

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 293
patron, the Lord Le Despencer, at High Wycombe.
Paul bequeathed 50/. by his wiU to defray the expenses
of this ceremony.
Mrs. Clive, the actress, also resided in this street,
before she retired to her cottage, near Strawberry Hill,
given to her by Horace Walpole. Partridge, the Alma
nack-maker, had also a shop here before he removed to
better lodgings in SaUsbury Street, where he told for
tunes, and caUed himself " Student in Physic and
Astrology." In James Street, Garrick had lodgings in 1747, as
appears from the foUoAA'ing advertisement in the " Gene
ral Advertiser" for the 7th of AprU in that year. " Mr.
Garrick hopes the gentlemen and ladies Avho had taken
places for his benefit the 16th of last month, will excuse
his deferring it to the 30th of this, his illness not per
mitting him to have it sooner. Tickets and places to be
had at Mr. Garrick's lodgings, in James Street, Covent
Garden, and of Mr. Page, at the stage-door of the
theatre." Some years previously, a mysterious lady resided in
James Street, who created much interest and curiosity in
the neighbourhood, and in other parts of the town. In
Malcolm's " Anecdotes of London, during the eighteenth
century," there is the foUowing account of her. " In
the month of March, 1 720, an unknown lady died at her
lodgings in James Street, Covent Garden. She is repre
sented to have been a middle-sized person, with dark
brown hair and very beautiful features, and mistress of
every accomplishment peculiar to ladies of the first
fashion and respectability. Her age appeared to be

294 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
between thirty and forty. Her circumstances were afflu
ent, and she possessed the richest trinkets of her_ sex,
generaUy set with diamonds. A John Ward, Esq., of
Hackney, published many particulars relating to her in
the papers, and amongst others, that a servant had been
directed by her to deliver him a letter after her death,
but as no servant appeared, he felt himself required to
notice those circumstances, in order to acquaint her rela
tives of her decease, which occurred suddenly after a
masquerade, where she declared she had conversed with the
king, and it was remembered that she had been seen in
the private apartments of Queen Anne, though after that
queen's demise she Uved in obscurity. This unknoAvn
arrived in London from Mansfield in 1714, drawn by six
horses. She frequently said that her father was a noble
man, but that, her elder brother dying unmarried, the
title was extinct, adding, that she had an uncle then
liAdng, whose title was his least recommendation. It was
conjectured that she might be the daughter of a Roman
Catholic, who had consigned her to a convent, whence a
brother had released her and supported her in privacy."
It seems likely enough that she was connected in some
way with the Stuart famUy, and with their pretensions
to the throne.
Dr. Arne, the celebrated composer, was born in King
Street, where his father kept an upholsterer's shop. His
sister, Mrs. Cibber, was born in the same house. Arne,
the father, is said to have been the original of the up
holsterer in Murphy's farce of that name. He did not
encourage the early taste manifested by his son for the
study of music; and the future composer, when a boy,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 295
was obliged to steal time from the night to devote him
self to his darling science, and practise in a garret on a
muffled spinet when aU the family were asleep. It is
related of the old upholsterer, that going one night to a
concert, he saw his son officiating as the leader of the
orchestra, and that this was the first intimation he
received of his musical proficiency. His house was the
sign of the "Two Crowns and Cushions." There was
at the same time a tavern in Great RusseU Street
caUed the " Crown and Cushion."
Voltaire in his young days, after his release from the
BastiUe, Avhere he had suffered imprisonment for libel,
came over to England, and took lodgings in Maiden
Lane, at a perruquier's, whose house bore the sign of the
White Peruke. He made acquaintance with the principal
men of letters of that day ; and some of his correspon
dence with Swift IS dated from this house.
Voltaire in his personal appearance corresponded per
fectly with the EngUsh popular notion of a Frenchman ;
" he looked so witty, profligate, and thin," was so poUte,
satirical, and well di'cssed, and seemed so thoroughly in
his leanness to convey the notion of a man who fed on
frogs and soupe-maigre, that the mob often taunted him
as he passed. One day he was beset by so great a
crowd, that he was forced to shelter himself against a
door-way, where, mounting the steps, he made a flaming
speech in English, which he spoke with tolerable correct
ness, in praise of the magnanimity of the English nation,
and their love of freedom; with which the people were
so delighted, that their jeers were turned into applauses.

296 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
and he was carried in triumph to Maiden Lane upon the
shoulders of the mob.
Returning again into Covent Garden and Long Acre,
Ave pass into Lincoln's Inn Fields, by Great Queen Street.
The latter was one of the most fashionable streets in
London in the time of the Stuarts. " It Avas then in
habited," says Pennant, "by many people of rank.
Among others Avas CouAvay House, the residence of the
noble family of that name; Paulet House", belonging to
the Marquis of Winchester; and the house in Avhich
Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, finished his romantic life.
The fronts of certain houses, possibly of those or others
of the nobility, are distinguished by brick pilasters and
rich capitals."
In his house in this street. Lord Herbert appears to
have written the greater part of his treatise " De Veri-
tate," of the publication of which he himself relates so
singular a story. He says the book began by him, and
formed in all its principal parts in England, was finished
in France. " The work was no sooner perfected," says
Lord Herbert, " than I communicated it to Elugo Grotius,
that great scholar, who having escaped his prison in the
Low Countries, came into France, and Avas much wel
comed by me and Monsieur Tieleners, also one of the
greatest scholars of the time, who, after they had perused
it, and given it more commendation than it is proper for
me to repeat, exhorted me earnestly to print and publish
it. Howbeit, the frame of my Avhole work was so dif
ferent from anything that had been written before, I
found I must either renounce the authority of all that

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 297
had been Avritten formerly concerning the method of
finding out truth, and consequently insist upon my own
way, or hazard myself to a general censure concerning
the whole argument of iny book. I must confess it did
not a Uttle animate me, that the two great persons above
mentioned did so highly value it, yet as I knew it would
meet with much opposition, I did consider whether it
was not better for me for aAvhile to suppress it.
"Being thus doubtful in my chamber, one fair day in
the summer, my casement being open towards the south,
the sun shining clear, and no wind stirring, I took my
book " De Veritate" in my hand, and kneeling on my
knees, devoutly said these Avords, ' Oh thou eternal God,
author of the light which now shines upon me, and giver
of aU inward illuminations, I do beseech thee of thy infi
nite goodness to pardon a greater request than a sinner
ought to make. I am not satisfied enough whether I
shaU pubUsh this book " De Veritate." If it be for thy
glory, I beseech thee give me some sign from heaven ; if
not, I shall suppress it!' I had no sooner spoken these
words but a loud though gentle noise came from the
heavens, (for it was like nothing on earth,) which did so
comfort and cheer me that I took my petition as granted,
and that I had the sign I demanded ; Avhereupon also I
resolved to print my book. This (how strange soever
it may seem) I protest before the Eternal God is true.
Neither am I any Avay superstitiously deceived herein,
since I did not only hear the noise, but in the serenest
sky that ever I saw, being without all cloud, did to my
thinking see the place from Avhence it came."
It should be stated that Lord Herbert disbelieved the

298 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
truth of revelation, and that his book was written to dis
prove it. What weak points there are in the strongest
minds ; and how just, as far as they go, are the remarks
of Horace Walpole upon this subject: "How could a man,"
said he, " who doubted of general, believe in individual,
revelation '? What vanity, to think his book of such
importance to the cause of truth, that it could extort a
declaration of the divine wUl, when the interest of half
mankind could not!" It was not only most egregious
vanity, but vanity with a touch of madness in it. Indeed,
the whole story of this man's Ufe shows him to have been
a crack-brained enthusiast, madder in his own way than
ever Don Quixote was in his.
Besides the houses of the nobUity in Great Queen
Street enumerated by Pennant, was the Earl of Bristol's.
The foUowing passage occurs in the "Memoirs of Evelyn,"
vol. I., page 414: "May 26th, 1671. The Eari of
Bristol's house, in Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields,
was taken for the Commissioners of Trade and Planta
tions, and furnished with rich hangings of the king's. It
consisted of seven rooms on a floor, with a long gaUery,
gardens, &c."
Sir Godfrey Kneller resided in this street. He and
RadcUffe, the physician, were next-door neighbours.
Horace Walpole, in his " Anecdotes of Painting," relates
a story of them. " Kneller," says he, " was fond of
flowers, and had a fine collection. As there was great
intimacy between him and the physician, he permitted
the latter to have a door into his garden ; but Radcliffe's
servants gathering and destroying the flowers, KneUer
sent him Avord he must shut up the door. RadcUffe

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 299
replied peevishly, " Tell him he may do anything with it
but paint it." " And I," answered Godfrey, " can take
anything from him but his physic."
Pope and Gay often visited the painter in his studio.
The following anecdote of Kneller, whose vanity is well
known, was related by Pope to Spence. "As I was
sitting by Sir Godfrey Kneller one day," said the poet,
" while he was drawing a picture, he stopped, and said,
' I can't do as well as I should do, unless you flatter me
a little, Mr. Pope ; you know I love to be flattered.' I
was, for once, wiUing," continued Pope, " to try how far
this vanity would carry him, and after considering a pic
ture which he had just finished, for some while very
attentively, I said to him in French (for he had been
talking some time before in that language), ' We read in
the Holy Scriptures that God made man after his own
image, but I think, if He had man to make again, he
Avould make him after the image on that canvas.' Sir
Godfrey Kneller turned round, and said, very gravely,
' You are quite right, Mr. Pope — par Dieu, I think so
too!'" At Coachmaker's HaU, in Great Queen Street, was
held the remarkable meeting of the Protestant Associa
tion which led to the riots under Lord George Gordon in
1780. The house of Mr. Justice Cox, in this street, was
one of those destroyed by the rioters a few days after
wards. At present, the most remarkable building in Great
Queen Street, is the Freemason's Tavern. The founda
tion-stone of this edifice was laid on the 1st of May,
1775, by Lord Petre, attended by aU the great officers

300 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
of the fraternity of Free and Accepted Masons. The
great hall is both spacious and handsome, and contains
several good portraits of illustrious Masons, among whom
most conspicuous are the Duke of Sussex, in his once-
favomite Highland costume, and his brother, the Duke of
York. We now arrive in Lincoln's Inn Square. The house
No. 4 deserves especial notice as having been the chambers
of the Literary Fund Society, established for the relief of
distressed and meritorious authors, and UberaUy sup
ported by the pubUc. George IV. and WiUiam IV. an
nually contributed one hundred guineas to its fimds, and
this Uberal subscription is continued by her present most
gracious Majesty. A few doors further on is the house
of the late Sir John Soane, the architect, a neat edifice
buUt by himself in 1792. Since his death, his valuable
museum has been opened to the pubUc once a Aveek, with
certain restrictions. It contains a coUection of antiqui
ties, besides books, manuscripts, and pictures, which
he bequeathed to the nation, with the sum of 30,000/.,
the interest of which is to be applied in maintaining it.
The museum consists of the rooms on two floors of the
house. The lower floor is named the sarcophagus room,
from the large sarcophagus brought by Belzoni, the
Egyptian traveUer, from a cave at Gornou, on the Nile,
and bought of him by Sir John Soane for 2000/. The
room is fitted up in the form of a Roman cemetery, with
apertiu'es in the waUs containing funereal urns, busts,
candelabra, and fragments of sculptm'e. Besides this
room are the Picture Cabinets and the Monk's Parloiu',
the latter fitted up in the style of the 16 th century, and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 301
containing a spacious window, richly painted with tAventy
subjects in chiar'-oscuro, in compartments.
Behind this side of the square was one of the worst
neighbourhoods in London in the reign of Charles II.
It was called Whetstone Park, and Avas the great resort
of thicA^es and lewd women. In the "State Poems"
there is a set of verses entitled, " On the three Dukes
killing the Beadle on Sunday morning, February 26,
1671." The three dukes were the three sons of Charles
IL, who, in a drunken frolic in this place, had assaulted
the beadle, who unfortunately lost his life in consequence,
though that consummation of the frolic was never in
tended by its perpetrators. It does not appear that the
young men were ever called to account for wtiat they had
done. The doggrel rhyme mentions that a ball at the
palace was put off in consequence.
" See what mishaps dare e'en invade Whitehall ;
This silly fellow's death puts off the ball.
And disappoints the Queen — ^poor little chuck !"
This part of Lincoln's Inn Square long preserved its
bad character. The foUoAving lines from the third book
of the " Trivia" describe its frequenters in the time -of
Gay:— " Where Lincoln's Inn, wide space, is rail'd around.
Cross not with venturous steps; — there oft is found
The lurking thief, who, while the daylight shone.
Made the Avails echo with his begging tone ; ,
That crutch, which late compassion moved, shall wound
Thy bleeding head, and fell thee to the ground.
Though thou art tempted by the linkman's call,
Yet trust him not along the lonely wall ;
In the midway he'll quench the flaming brand.
And share the booty with the pilfering band."

302 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
We shaU have fm-ther occasion to speak of the London
thieves and beggars when we arrive in Dyot Street, St.
GUes's, and that neighbourhood; but the one sort that
made Lincoln's Inn Fields thefr head-quarters we had
better describe at once. Malcolm, in his " Manners and
Customs of London," gives an account of the Lincoln's
Inn Field rufflers, from materials suppUed by the second
edition of the "Canting Academy," pubUshed in 1674.
The ruffler was a wretch who assumed the character of a
maimed soldier, and begged from the claims of Naseby,
EdgehUl, Newbury, and Marston Moor. Those who were
stationed in the city of London were generaUy found in
Lincoln's Inn Fields and Covent Garden, and their prey
was people of fashion, whose coaches were attacked-
boldly, and, if denied, their OAvners were told boldly, —
" 'Tis a sad thing that an old crippled cavaUer should be
suffered to beg for a maintenance, and a young cavaUer
that never heard the whistle of a buUet should ride in
his coach."
Lincoln's Inn Fields form part of the ancient Ticket
Fields, which extended from hence past the spot where
St. GUes's Church is noAV buUt. Queen Elizabeth, afraid
that London would become too large, issued more than
one proclamation against the increase of building.
James I. was smitten with the same fear, and in a royal
mandate, dated the 4th of September, 1612, and ad
dressed to certain justices of the peace for the county of
Middlesex, he states it to be his express pleasure and
commandment that the erection of new buUdings in
Lincoln's Inn Fields should be restrained, and requires
the said justices to apprehend and commit to prison any

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 303
one Avho should be found so offending, or to take sureties
of him or them to appear before the Privy Council to
answer the charge. This measure, it appears, was
adopted at the request of the benchers and students of
the Inn. It was found unavailing. Buildings continued
to be erected, and six years afterwards it was thought a
wiser course of policy, to prevent the buUding of small
mean houses by various projectors, to lay out the whole
space in a regular plan. A commission was accordingly
granted in 1618, intrusted to the care of Lord Chan
ceUor Bacon, the Earls of Worcester, Pembroke, Arundel,
and others, for the better disposition of these grounds.
-Inigo Jones was employed to draAv up a plan. The
commission alleged in their report that more public
works had been undertaken near and about the city of
London within the sixteen previous years than in ages
before. That the grounds caUed Lincoln's Inn Fields
were much planted round with dwellings and lodgings of
noblemen and gentlemen of quality, but at the same time
were much deformed by cottages and mean buUdings,
encroachments on the Fields, and nuisances to the neigh
bourhood. The commissioners, desirous to reform those
grievances, had determined " to frame and reduce those
fields both for sweetness, uniformity, and comeliness into
such walks, partitions, or other plots, and in such sort,
manner, and form, both for pubUc health and pleasure,
as by Mr. Inigo Jones should be accordingly drawn by
way of map."
Inigo Jones proposed to build the square on a uniform
plan, and a specimen of what it would have been, had his
suggestions been carried into effect, may be seen, from

304 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the centre house on the west, now divided into two,
which was formerly inhabited by the Earls of Lindsay
and their descendants the Dukes of Ancaster. The plan
was considered too costly, and therefore remained unac-
compUshed, but noblemen and others, desirous of inhabi
ting the square, were aUowed to build for themselves;
and in the course of time many handsome buUdings arose,
although the uniformity of the square was not preserved.
The north side was called NeAvman's Row, the west,
Arch Row, the south, Portugal Row, and the east, Lin
coln's Inn Wall.
By the plan of Inigo Jones, the area of the square
was to have been made of the exact dimensions of the
base of the largest of the Egyptian pyramids.
The large house at the north-west corner, now divided
into tAvo, and partly occupied by the Society for the Pro
pagation of Christian Knowledge, and with a passage under
it to Great Queen Street, formerlj- belonged to the Duke
of Newcastle, minister of George IL, and is stUl occasion
aUy caUed Newcastle House. It was buUt about the year
1686, by the Marquis of Powis, and called Powis House.'
On the abdication of James IL, Lord PoAris foUowed
him to France, where he was created Duke of Powis, —
a barren honour, but all that the ex-monarch had it
in his power to bestow.
There is a story abroad, that at the waU on this side
Ben Jonson worked when he was a bricklayer. The
authority for the story is Aubrey, whose Avords are : —
" His mother after his father's death married a brick
layer ; and 'tis generally said that he wrought for some
time with his father-in-law, and particiUarly on the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 305
garden wall of Lincoln's Inn, next to Chancery Lane.
A knight or bencher Avalking through, and hearing him
repeat some Greek names out of Homer, discoursed with
him, and finding him to have a wit extraordinary, gave
him some exhibition to maintain him at Trinity College,
Cambridge." Honest old FuUer also teUs this story : —
"He helped," says he, "in the building of the new
structure of Lincoln's Inn, Avhere, having a trowel in his
hand, he had a book in his pocket." Mr. Gifford, in his
edition of the works of Ben Jonson, denies that the
poet ever worked as a bricklayer, and treats this story
as a "figment."
The entrance to Lincoln's Inn is not from the square,
but from Chancery Lane. The gate was built by Sir
Thomas Level, once a member of this inn, and afterwards
treasurer of the household to Henry VII. The other
parts were rebuUt at different times, but much about the
same period. The inn itself was established at the end
of the thirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth century,
by Henry Lacy, earl of Lincoln, Avhose name it still
bears, and who died in it in 1312. The ground origi
nally belonged to the Bishops of Chichester; "one of
whom," says Pennant, " in after times granted leases of
the buUding to certain students of the law, reserving to
themselves a rent, and lodgings for themselves, whenever
they came to London." This seems to have taken place
about the time of Henry VII. In the great hall of this
inn the Lord Chancellor holds his sittings.
On the south side of the square, various eminent law
yers have in their time resided, including the Lord Cnan-
ceUors Camden, Loughborough, and Erskine, and the
VOL. I. X

306 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Lords Chief Justices Kenyon and Mansfield. The large
centre house was buUt for the Royal CoUege of Surgeons,
incorporated in 1800, when they were first separated
from the more ancient corporation of the Barber-Sur
geons. Their spacious haU was rebuUt in 1837 as it
now stands. In the museum is the extensive anatomical
collection of the celebrated John Hunter.
A narrow, dingy, street behind this side of the square,
is stUl caUed Portugal Street. A good half of it is
occupied by a squaUd-looking burial-ground belonging to
the church of St. Clement Danes, in which the remains
of Joe MiUer, " the father of jokes," are interred. No
thing in the streets of London strikes the continental
stranger with more disgust than the burial-grounds which
are so frequent. In a well-ordered metropoUs, cemeteries
would never be suffered in the midst of the habitations
of the Uving, and public attention, lately directed to the
subject, has devised a partial remedy, in the estabUshment
of cemeteries at Highgate, Hampstead, Kensal-Green,
and other spots, at a short distance from London. It is
to be hoped that the time will come when no parish shall
be aUowed a burial-ground to its church, but shall be
compelled to inter its dead at a distance from the living.
The recent revelations of Mr. Walker on the church
yards of London, are enough to make the blood curdle,
and have done much to call attention to the enormous
evil. Portugal Street was so named in compliment to the
Queen of Charles IL, and is celebrated as the site of Sir
WiUiam Davenant's theatre. Though it is the general
opinion that there was but one theatre in this quarter.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 307
there appear to have been two; but it is not a little
difficult to determine the exact site of each, and the
exact periods when they were opened. Killigrew, in the
year 1661, had a theatre in the Tennis Court, Vere
Street, Clare Market, but he and his company removing
to Drury Lane, in 1663, there was an end for the time of
this first of the Lincoln's Inn Fields' theatres. In 1662,
whUe KiUigrew was stiU in his old quarters. Sir William
Davenant's, or the " Duke's" company, as they were caUed,
to distinguish them from KiUigrew's, or the " King's "
company, removed from Salisbury Court to a new theatre
in Portugal Street. Davenant's company performed here
until 1671, when for some reason or other, which does
not appear, they returned to Salisbury Com-t. In 1694,
Betterton and Congreve re-opened the theatre in Portugal
Street, under a licence from King William III., and Bet
terton continued to manage its affairs untU 1704, when
the neighbours complained of it as a nuisance. He then
assigned his patent to Sir John Vanbrugh, who, finding
the premises too small, erected a theatre in the Hay
market, The Portugal Street theatre being thus aban
doned, remained empty for about ten years, when it was
re-opened by Mr, Rich, "The performers," says the
author of the introduction to Baker's " Biographia Dra-
matica," " were so much inferior to those at Drury Lane,
that the latter carried away all the applause and favour
of the town. In this distress the genius of Rich sug
gested to him a species of entertainment which, at the
same time that it hath been deemed contemptible, has
ever been followed and encouraged. Harlequin, Panta
loon, and aU the host of pantomimic pageantry were
X 2

308 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
brought forward, and sound and show obtained a victoi'y
over sense and reason. The fertiUty of Mr. Rich's in
vention in these entertainments, and the excellence of his
own performance, must at the same time be acknow
ledged. By means of these only he kept the managers
of the other house at all times from relaxing their dili
gence, and to the disgrace of public taste, frequently
obtained more money by ridiculous and paltry perform
ances, than all the sterling merit of the other theatre was
able to acquire." . . . Rich and his company re-
moA'-ed, in 1733, to the then newly-erected theatre of
Covent Garden, and the old one was shut up for about
two years. It was then taken by a Mr. Giffard, from
Goodman's Fields, who not finding his speculation answer,
gave it up in 1737, when it ceased to be a theatre. It
was afterwards occupied as a pottery warehouse, and has
now disappeared altogether. It stood nearly opposite to
the burial-ground.
Many curious particulars relative to the theatre in
Lincoln's Inn Fields are to be found in Pepys's " Diary."
We cannot foUoAV him through his minutiae, but one cir
cumstance connected Avith them deserves mention. He
says, that at the theatre in Vere Street, he first saw a
Avoman on the stage.
It appears from the researches of Malone and others,
that Desdemona was the first character ever performed
by a female in this country, and that this very necessary
reform Avas first introduced at this theatre on the 8th of
December, 1660. The prologue on this occasion was
written by Thomas Jordan, and contained, among other
passages, the foUoAving apologies for the innovation :—

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 309
" I come, unknown to any of the rest.
To tell the news : I saw the lady dress'd !
The woman plays to-day ! Mistake me not.
No man in gown, or page in petticoat ;
A woman to my knowledge — yet I can't.
If I should die, make afiidavit on't.
Do you not twitter, gentlemen? I know
You will be censuring. Do it fairly though.
'Tis possible a virtuous woman may
Abhor all sorts of lewdness, and yet play 
Play on the stage, where all eyes are upon her.
Shall we count that a crime, France counts an honour?
In other kingdoms husbands safely trust 'em ;
The difference lies only in the custom.
* » * * * *
* V- ¦:;- # Ii- *
But, to the point : in this reforming age.
We have intents to civilize the stage;
Our women are defective, and so sized.
You'd think they were some of the guard disguised.
For to speak truth, men act, that are between
Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen ;
With bone so large, and nerve so incompliant.
When you call Desdemona — enter. Giant !
We shall purge everything that is unclean.
Lascivious, scurrilous, impious, or obscene;
And when we've put all things in this fair way,
Barebones himself may come to see a play.''
Although the introduction of women on the stage was
as successful as it deserved to be, there was for a long
time some difficulty in procuring the requisite numbers
to fill the parts,
" There was stUl," says Cibber, " a necessity now and
then to put the handsomest young man into petticoats."
Kynaston, an actor, was very often chosen ; " and he
was," adds Cibber, " so beautiful a youth, that the ladies
of quality prided themselves on taking him Avith them in

310 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
their coaches to Hyde Park in his theatrical habit, after
the play, which in those days they might have time to
do, as plays were then used to begin at four o'clock."
Kynaston's chief female character was Evadne, in the
Maid's Tragedy ; and Cibber teUs an amusing story which
he heard from Kynaston's own mouth of the shifts the
stage was then put to : —
"The King (Charles II.) coming a little before his
usual time to a tragedy, found the actors not ready to
begin, when his Majesty, not choosing to have as much
patience as his good subjects, sent to them to know the
meaning of it, upon which the master of the company
came to the box, and rightly judging that the best
excuse for their default would be the true one, fd,irly told
his Majesty that the Queen was not shaved yet. The
King, whose good humour loved to laugh at a jest, as
weU as to make one, accepted the excuse, which served
to divert him tiU the male queen (Kynaston) could be
effeminated." Before quitting Lincoln's Inn Fields, we must not forget
to mention the most remarkable incident in its history,
the execution of the patriot, Lord WUliam RusseU. The
circumstances of his trial, and the heroic conduct of his
wife. Lady Rachel, are too weU known. They are too
much of the History of England, to be part of the history
of a street, and we need not dweU upon them. The
reason of his execution in this spot, says Pennant, was,
that it was the nearest open space from Newgate, where
he was confined. It was thought more advisable to
convey him through the comparatively quiet line of
Holborn, than through the crowded city to Tower HiU,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 311
for rumours of an intention to rescue him had been
circulated. Burnet says that the Duke of York, the bitter enemy
of Lord RusseU, moved the King that he might be exe
cuted in front of his own door in Southampton Square, but
the King rejected this as indecent, and the middle of
Lincoln's Inn Fields was fixed upon. On his way from
Newgate, on turning into Little Queen Street, he shed a
tear at the remembrance of his wife, for he turned to the
Dean of Canterbury, and said, " I have often turned to
the other hand (towards his own house) with great com
fort, but now I turn to this with greater."
" TUlotson and I," says Dr. Burnet, " went with him in
the coach to the place of execution. Some of the crowd
that fiUed the streets wept, whUe others insulted. He
was touched by the tenderness that the one gave him,
but did not seem at all provoked by the other. He was
singing psalms a great part of the way, and said he
hoped to sing better soon. As he observed the great
crowds of people aU the way, he said to us, ' I hope I
shaU quickly see a much better assembly.' When he
came to the scaffold he walked about it four or five times.
Then he turned to the sheriffs and delivered his paper.
He protested that he had always been far from any
designs against the king's life or Government. He prayed
God would preserve both, and the Protestant reUgion.
He wished aU Protestants might love one another, and
not make way for Popery by their animosities. The
« «»substance of the paper he deUvered to the sheriffs was,
first, a profession of his religion and his sincerity in it ;
that he was of the Church of England, but wished aU

312 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
would unite together against the common enemy; that
churchmen M^ould be less severe, and dissenters less scru
pulous. He owned he had a great zeal against Popery,
which he looked on as an idolatrous and bloody religion,
but that, although he was at all times ready to venture
his life for his religion or his country, yet this would
never have carried him to any black or wicked design.
No man ever had the impudence to move to him any
thing with relation to the king's life. He prayed heartily
for him, that in his person and Government he might be
happy, both in this world and the next. He protested,
that in the prosecution of the popish plot he had gone
on in the sincerity of his heart, and that he never knew
of any practice with the witnesses. lie owned he had
been earnest in the matter of the exclusion, as the best
way in his opinion to secure both the king's life and the
Protestant religion; and to that he imputed his present
sufferings; but he forgave all concerned in them, and
charged his friends to think of no revenge. He thought
his sentence Avas hard,. upon which he gave an account of
all that had passed at Shepherd's. From the heats that
Avere in choosing the sheriffs, he concluded that matter
Avould end as it now did, and he was not much surprised
to find it fall upon himself He wished it might end in
him : killing by law was the worst form of murder. He
concluded with some very devout ejaculations. After he
had delivered this paper, he prayed by himself; then
TiUotson prayed with him. After that, he prayed again
by himself and then undressed himself and laid his head»
on the block, without the least change of countenance;
and it was cut off at tAVo strokes."

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 313
Does it not seem strange that no memorial has been
placed upon the spot of this tragedy 1 The flowers grow
upon the death-scene of the martyr of civil and religious
freedom; but a monument ought to have been erected
upon it, James IL, in the extremity of the misfortune
that deservedly fell upon him, applied to the heart-broken
father of Lord William Russell to aid him. " My Lord,"
said he, " you are an honest man, have great credit, and
can do me signal service." " Ah sire," replied the Earl,
" I am old and feeble, but I once had a son !" James was
so struck with the solemn answer, that he walked about
the room, and could not speak for some minutes.
Some writers have mistakenly repeated that Algernon
Sydney, another victim in the same cause, was also
executed in Lincoln's Inn Fields. It will be found, how
ever, that the place of his execution was Tower Hill.
Duke Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, contains a Roman
OathoUc chapel, the same that was formerly attached to
the Sardinian Embassy, and which was nearly destroyed
in the " No Popery" riots of 1780.
This street is ever memorable as the scene of the early
hfe of Benjamin Franklin. His lodgings Avere in Duke
Street, and he worked as a journeyman printer in the
office of Mr. Watts, in Great Wyld Street, adjoining.
He first of aU worked for a twelvemonth at a printer's,
named Palmer, in Bartholomew Close; but he worked
for Mr. Watts during the remainder of his stay in Eng
land. It was in 1 725 that he took his lodgings, consist
ing of one room, at the house of a widow lady opposite
the Catholic chapel, ior which he paid at the rate of
three-and-sixpence a week. His landlady was a clergy-

314 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
man's daughter, who, marrying a Catholic, had abjured
Protestantism, and became acquainted with several dis
tinguished families of that persuasion. She and Franklin
found mutual pleasure in each other's society. He kept
good hours, and she, being too lame with the gout to
leave her room, their evenings were generally passed
together. "Our supper," says Franklin, in his "Memofrs,"
" was only half an anchovy each, on a very little sUce of
bread and butter, and half a pint of ale between us ; but
the entertainment was her conversation." In the garret
of the same house lodged a maiden catholic lady of great
piety, but not without eccentricity. She had been sent
to the Continent, when a girl, to take the veil; but the
cUmate not agreeing with her, she returned to England,
and lived for the remainder of her Ufe even more strictly
than if she had still inhabited a nunnery. She had a
small estate, out of which she reserved the sum of 1 2Z, a
year for her own wants, devoting the rest to charitable
purposes, and living almost entirely upon water-gruel.
Her presence was thought a blessing to the house, and
the occupants refused to take any rent from her. " I
was once," says Franklin, "permitted to visit her. She
was cheerful and polite, and conversed pleasantly. The
room was clean, but had no other furniture than a mat^
trass, with a table, a crucifix, a book, a stool, which she
gave me to sit on, and a picture over the chimney, of
St. Veronica displaying her handkerchief with the mira
ciUous figure of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she
explained to me with great seriousness. She looked pale,
but was never sick ; and I give it as another instance on
how small an income life may be supported."

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON, 315
Franklin, while here, was the great reformer of the
workmen in Great Wyld Street, " On my entrance,"' says
he, " I worked at first as a pressman, conceiving that I
had need of bodUy exercise, to which I had been accus
tomed in America, where the printers work alternately as
compositors and at the press. I drank nothing but
water; the other workmen, to the number of fifty, were
great drmkers of beer. I carried, occasionally, a large
form of letters in each hand, up and down stairs, while
the rest employed both hands to carry one. They were
surprised to see by this, and many other examples, that
the 'American Aquatic,' as they used to caU me, was
stronger than those that drank porter. The beer-boy
had sufficient employment during the whole day in
serving that house alone  My example prevaUed
with several of them to renounce their abominable prac
tice of bread and cheese, with beer, and they procured,
like me, from a neighbouring house, a good basin of warm
gruel, in which was a smaU slice of butter, with toasted
bread and nutmeg. This was a much better breakfast,
which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely,
three half-pence, and at the same time preserved the
head clearer. Those who continued to gorge themselves
with beer, often lost their credit with the publican, from
neglecting to pay their score. They had then recourse
to me to become security for them, ' their light,' as they
used to caU it, ' being out.' I attended at the table every
Saturday evening, to take up the little sums which I
had made myself answerable for, and which sometimes
amounted to near thirty shiUings a week. This circum
stance, added to the reputation of my being a tolerably

316 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
good 'gabber,' or, in other words, skilful in the art of
burlesque, kept up my importance among them. I had,
besides, recommended myself to the esteem of my master
by my assiduous application to business, never observing
Saint Monday. My extraordinary quickness in com
posing always procured me such work as was most urgent
and which is commonly best paid.''
Forty years afterwards, when he came to England as
the agent of Massachusetts, Franklin went to visit his old
office, and the old press where the days of his youth
had passed. He went to the two pressmen who were
working at it, and inviting them to drink, told them of
the circumstances of his early life. This press was long .
preserved by Messrs. Cox, the printers of Great Queen
Street ; but a few years since, it was disposed of to Mr.
IlarrUd, who raised a considerable sum by its exhibition,
for the benefit of decayed printers ; after which it was
bought by some American gentlemen, with the intention
of having it carefully preserved in Franklin's native city.
We pass from this street into Clare Market, so called
from the Earls of Clare, to whom the ground belonged,
and one of whom built the market about the year 1657.
This now filthy and almost putrid neighbourhood was
the scene where " Orator Henley" held forth in the days
of Pope, who has damned him to everlasting fame in the
"Dunciad." Some describe his oratory as having been
in Newport Market; but it would appear from Henley's
own advertisements, that it was first in Newport Market,
and afterwards in Clare Market, or that Newport and Clare
Market must have been one and the same. The price
of admission to the lectures of this half-crazed mounte-

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON, 317
bank was one shiUing. Pope, in the " Dunciad," speaks
of his pulpit as a " gilt tub," but in a note to the passage
it is stated, " the pulpit of a Dissenter is usually called a
tub," but that of Mr. Orator Henley was covered with
velvet and adorned with gold. He had also a fair altar,
and over it this extraordinary inscription, " The Primi
tive Eucharist." He had, in early life, been a candidate
for the lectureship of Bloomsbury parish, but was rejected
by the congregation because he threw himself about too
much in the pulpit. Rushing into a room where the
principal parishioners were assembled, he thus addressed
them, "Blockheads! are you qualified to judge of the
degree of action necessary for a jDreacher of God's word 1
Were you able to read, or had you sufficient sense, you
sorry knaves, to understand the renowned orator of
antiquity, he would tell you, almost the only requisite of
a public speaker was 'action! action! action!' But I
despise and defy you — provoco ad populum — the public
shall decide between us." He therefore published his
"Sermon," to show their iU-taste in rejecting him; and
when he held forth in Clare Market, if any of his
Bloomsbury friends ventured into the room, he could not
resist the opportunity of having a fling at him. With a
triumphant look at the crowds by whom he was sur
rounded, he would fix his eyes upon him and exclaim,
"You see, sir, all mankind are not of your opinion!
There are, you perceive, a foAV sensible people in the
world, who consider me not wholly unqualified for the
office I have undertaken." Pope says of him " that he
would have been worthy of ancient Egypt — a decent
priest where monkeys were the gods !" He lectured upon

318 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Divinity on Sundays and de omnibus rebus on Wednes
days and Fridays.
The foUowing are specimens of his advertisements,
issued during the year 1 729 : " At the Oratory, in
Newport Market, to-morrow, at half an hour after ten,
the sermon vrUl be on the Witch of Endor. At half an
hour after five, the theological lecture wUl be on the con
version and original of the Scottish nation, and of the
Picts and Caledonians, St. Andrew's reUcs and pane
gyric, and the character and mission of the Apostles.
On Wednesday, at six, or near the matter, take your
chance, wUl be a medley oration on the history, merits,
and praise of confusion, and of confounders, in the road,
and out of the way. On Friday AviU be that of Dr.
Faustus and Fortunatus, and conjuration. After each,
the ' Chimes of the Times,' No. 23 and 24."
The foUowing advertisement was issued for Sunday,
September 28th, 1729 : "At the Oratory, the corner of
Lincoln's Inn Fields, near Clare Market, to-morrow, at half
an hour after ten ; 1st. The postU avUI be on the turning of
Lot's wife into a pUlar of salt. 2nd. The sermon wUl be
on the necessary power and attractive force which reU
gion gives the spfrit of a man with God and good spirits.
At five o'clock; 1st. The postU wUl be on this point —
in what language our Saviour wUl speak the last sentence
on mankind. 2nd. The lecture wUl be on Jesus Christ's
sitting at the right hand of God, and where that is : the
honours and lustre of his inauguration: the learning,
piety, and criticism of that glorious article.
"The Monday's orations avUI shortly be resumed. On
Wednesday the oration wiU be on the skits of the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 319
fashions, or a live gaUery of flaming pictures in all ages,
ruffs, muffs, puffs manifold ; shoes, wedding-shoes, two-
shoes, sUp-shoes, heels, clocks, pantofles, buskins, panta
loons, garters, shoulder-knots, periwigs, head-dresses,
modesties, tuckers, farthingales, corkins, minnikins, slam
makins, ruffles, round-robins, toUet-fans, patches; dame,
forsooth, madam, my lady — the wit and beauty of my
grannum : Winnifred, Joan, Bridget, compared with our
Winny, Jenny, and Biddy ; fine ladies and pretty gentle
women; being a general view of the beau monde, from
before Noah's flood to the year 1729. On Friday wiU
be something better than last Tuesday, After each, a
bob at the times."
It would appear that Henley continued to lecture at
the same place for nearly twenty years. In one of his
lectures during the year of the rebeUion in Scotland, he
uttered some expressions which were thought seditious,
and he was cited before the Privy CouncU. He was
asked why he turned the exertions of good citizens into
ridicule, when they were endeavouring to preserve the
peace of the empfre, and especiaUy why he tried to
inflame the minds of the people, by his satires against
Archbishop Herring ? It should be remembered that the
Archbishop, in his zeal for the House of Hanover, had
proposed, or actuaUy commenced, arming the clergy, and
. Henley's reply excited great laughter : " I thought there
was no great harm, my Lords," said he, " in cracking a
joke on a red Herring!"
In reply to several other questions, and why he med
dled with affairs of state at aU, he repUed to the Earl of
Chesterfield, "My Lords, I must Uve." The Eari of

320 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Chesterfield rejoined, " I see no kind of reason for that ;"
at which the other Lords were observed to laugh. Hen
ley appeared irritated, and then said — " That is a very
good thing, my L6rd, but it has been said before." He
was detained in custody for a few days, and then dis
missed as an impudent fellow, without sufficient reason
in him to be dangerous.
It is not exactly known at what period his lectures
in Clare Market were discontinued. His eccentricity
became more decided as he grew older, and he appears
finally to have gone quite mad. He died in 1 75 6, in
the 54th year of his age.
• Prom Clare Market we pass into Drury Lane, stUl bear
ing the same character as when Gay thus apostrophized,
more than a century ago, the walks of London streets : —
" 0 may thy virtue guard thee thro' the roads
Of Drury's mazy courts and dark abodes.
The harlot's guileful paths."
Drury Lane derives its name from the town house of
the noble family of Drury, buUt by Sir WilUam Drury,
in the reign of Elizabeth, and which stood on the ground
now occupied by Craven Buildings, and the Olympic
Theatre. Sir William was Lord Deputy of Ireland, and died at
Waterford in 1579 — some say, in a duel about prece
dency, but this is not clear. His son. Sir Robert Drury>
was the true friend of Dr. John Donne, that rugged
satirist — the " greatest wit, but not the best poet of our
nation," as Dryden characterized him.
When Dr. Donne and his wife were in great distress
for a subsistence, OAving to the enmity of the lady's

IN THE STEEETS OP LONDON. 321
father. Sir George More, who was exceeding wroth at her
secret marriage with Donne, they were invited by Sir Ro
bert Drury to live in his house, untU better fortune smUed
upon them. A curious story is related of them here by
Isaac Walton, in his " Life of Dr. Donne," which Ave shall
repeat, leaving the reader, if he be incredulous, to his
incredulity, and if he be, like old Isaac, of abundant
faith, to a belief which is not Avithout its comforts, to
those who can bring themselves to it.
Sir Robert Drury being sent on an embassy to Henry
IV. of France, resolved to take Donne with him ; but
Mrs. Donne being then far advanced in her pregnancy,
and in iU health besides, solicited her husband not to leave
her, teUing him that her " divining soul boded her some
iU in his absence." Donne immediately determined that
he would not go, but Sir Robert Drury treated the refusal
as a mere piece of folly, and finally persuaded Donne to
accompany him, A few days after their arrival in Paris,
Sir Robert, Donne, and some other persons having dined
together, Donne was left alone in the dining-room, where
he remained by himself for about half an hour. Sir
Robert Drury, on re-entering the room, was surprised to
find Donne with a pale and haggard face, and a wildness
and ecstasy in his eye, and earnestly asked him what
was the matter 1 Donne for some moments could make
no reply; but at last he said, " I have seen a dreadful
vision since I saw you, I have seen my dear wife pass
twice by me in this room, with her hair hanging
about her shoulders, and a dead chUd in her arms.
This I have seen since I saw you," Sir Robert told
him that he must have been taking an after-dinner
VOL, I, Y

322 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
nap in his chair, but Donne protested that he had not
slept, and added, that the second time his wife appeared,
she stopped before him, looked mournfully in his fiice,
and vanished. Sir Robert stiU treated the matter as a
dream, and Donne stUl persisted that the apparition was
real, and became in consequence so melancholy, that Sfr
Robert's doubts were shaken, and he despatched a mes
senger expressly to Drury House, to learn how Mrs,
Donne was. The man went and returned to Paris in
twelve days, and brought back, says Walton, this account,
— " that he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad and sick
in her bed, and that after a long and dangerous labour,
she had been delivered of a dead chUd." And upon
examination, the abortion proved to have been the same
day, and about the very hour that Mr. Donne affirmed
he saw her pass by him in his chamber.
" This is a relation," continues Isaac, " that wUl beget
some wonder ; and weU it may, for most of our world
are at present possessed with an opinion, that visions and
miracles are ceased. And though it is most certain, that
two lutes being both strung and tuned to an equal pitch,
and then played upon, the other that is not touched,
being laid upon a table at a distance, wUl, like an echo
to a trumpet, warble a faint audible harmony, in answer
to the same tune, yet many wiU not believe that there is
any such thing as the sympathy of souls, and I am well
pleased that every reader do enjoy his own opinion."
Walton's Ulustration is poetical, and not iU expressed,
and he might have left it there without much imputation
upon his credulity ; but he goes on to prove the reality of
the vision by many arguments, into which we shaU not

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 323
foUow him, thinking that the story ends much better with
his own words in the quotation above.
After the death of Sir Robert Drury, this house
became the property of Lord Craven, the hero of Creutz-
nach, so weU known for his bravery in the wars of Gus
tavus Adolphus, and for his romantic attachment to
Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, the daughter of James I.
He was the eldest son of Sir WiUiam Craven, Lord
Mayor of London in 1611, and passed the greater part
of his life on the Continent, whither he had proceeded
before the CivU Wars to join the forces of Gustavus
Adolphus, until the Restoration, when Charles II. con
ferred upon him the titles of Viscount and Earl Craven.
He rebuUt Drury Place, and erected on part of the site
of the old buUdings a large brick house, four stories
high, which ever after continued to be caUed by his
name, and where Craven Street now stands. In this
house the Queen of Bohemia would appear from some
accounts to have resided, but the truth is, she resided in
the adjoining house, probably built for her by Lord
Craven, and caUed, for many years afterwards, Bohemia
House, and finaUy turned into a pubUc house, which bore
her head for its sign. Mr. Moser, in his " Vestiges," is
of opinion that there was a subterranean communication
between the two buUdings, and he had seen some vaults
accidentaUy broken into, that tended to confirm him in
that beUef The Earl was thought to have been privately
married to the queen, — a woman of great sweetness of
temper and amiability of manners, an universal favou
rite both in this country and Bohemia, where her gentle
ness acqufred her the title of " The Queen of Hearts."
Y 2

324 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAJIBLE
By right of thefr descent from her the House of Hanover
ascended the throne of this kingdom. It was upon her,
in her young days, that Sfr Henry Wotton Avrote his weU-
knoAvn Unes, beginning,
" Ye meaner beauties of the night,
That poorly satisfy our eyes.
More by your number than your light ;
Ye common people of the skies.
What are ye, when the moon shall rise?"
Lord Craven often accompanied her to the play, and
other pubUc resorts, and at her death she left him her
books, pictures, and papers. There is a Ukeness of her
at Hampton Coiu't.
Lord Craven was a bustUng active man, fond of war,
and strange to say, fond of gardening, and divided his
time between both, or at least such imitations of war as
he could find in the streets of London. He was colonel
of a regiment of guards, and kept the soldiers in con
tinual bustle. Lord Dorset, in a song in praise of his
mistress, says, —
'•' The people's hearts leap wherever she comes.
And beat night and day, like my Lord Craven's drums."
Whenever there was a fire in London, Lord Craven was
sure to be seen riding about to give orders to the soldiers,
who were generaUy caUed out to preserve order, and it
became a common saying, that " his very horse smelt
the fire at a distance." In the reign of WiUiam III.,
when he was upwards of eighty years of age, but stUl a
hale old feUow, there was some talk of giving his regi
ment to a younger man, when he exclaimed, " They may
as weU take away my life as my regiment, for I have

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 325
nothing else to divert myself with." The regiment was,
however, given to a younger man, and the old warrior of
Gustavus, corresponding to the very beau-ideal of a
soldier, and from whose character Sterne might have
conceived his first notion of Uncle Toby, was left with
out his hobby. But war was stiU the subject of his
talk, although he devoted himself more to his garden
than he had previously done. This garden extended a
considerable distance in a paraUel line with Drury Lane,
where Evelyn sometimes visited him. What a pity that
there is no record of their conversation left! We know
what the man of peace might have said about his beloved
trees and flowers, but the answers of the man of war,
bound to him by this one congenial sentiment, are more
difficult to imagine. The old soldier died in 1697, in
his eighty-fifth year, hale, cheerful, and bustUng to
the last.
The foUowing is the advertisement of his death, copied
from No. 301 of the " Post Boy," for the 10th of April,
1697,— "Yesterday, 9th, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the Right
Honourable the Earl of Craven departed this life at his house in
Drury Lane, in the 85th year of his age. He was an excellent
soldier, and served in the wars under Palsgrave of the Rhine, and
also under the great Gustaphus Adolphus, where he performed
sundry warlike exploits to admiration ; and, in a word, he was then
in great renowne. He is succeeded in estate and honour, as Baron
Craven, as Hampstead Marshal, by the Hon. William Craven, son
to Sir William Craven of Combe Abbey."
Craven BuUdings were erected on part of the grounds
of this mansion about the year 1723. Bohemia House
was converted into a tavern, the sign of the " Queen of

326 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Bohemia," which it retained tUl the year 1790 or 1791,
when several adjoining houses were accidentaUy burned
down, and itself so much injured as to be rendered unin
habitable. It remained in this state for ten or twelve
years, when it was puUed down, and the materials sold.
In 1803, Mr. PhUip Astley, the celebrated equestrian,
took a lease of the ground for sixty-three years, and
erected the Olympic PaviUon, the present Olympic
Theatre, upon its site, from his own designs, and for
equestrian performances exclusively. It was opened by
him for that purpose on the 18th of September, 1806.
Mr. EUiston, who became the lessee in 1813, changed its
name from the Olympic PavUion to the Royal Olympic
Theatre; and the horses being removed to the other side
of the Thames, burlettas and other similar entertainments
were provided. In 1826, the property was sold by
auction, and again in 1828 or 1829. Madame Vestris
then became the lessee, and conducted for many years
the affairs of this elegant Uttle theatre with some advan
tage to her interest, and much credit to her taste and
judgment, and very much gratification to the toAvn. On
her removal to Covent Garden in 1839, the Olympic
was taken by Mr. Butler, who provided the same species
of entertainment for playgoers as his predecessor, though
scarcely Avith as much success.
Among the residents in Craven Buildings may be men
tioned Hayman the painter, EUiston the actor, and three
favourite actresses from the time of Dryden to our own
— namely, Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Pritchard, and Madame
Vestris. Craven House, which existed in the time of Pennant,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 327
is described by him as " a large brick pile, concealed by
other buildings." The last vestiges of the buUding finally
disappeared about 1809, when the site was included in
the buildings for the Olympic Theatre.
Drury Lane is celebrated as having been the residence
of the famous Nan Clarges, duchess of Albemarle. Her
father was a blacksmith in the Savoy.
The foUowing quotation relating to her is originally
from a MS. of Mr. Aubrey, in Ashmole's Museum, and
has been reprinted in Granger's " Biographical History."
" When he (Monck) was prisoner in the Tower, his sem-
stress, Nan Clarges, a blacksmith's daughter, atteuded
upon him. It must be remembered that he was then
in want, and that she assisted him. She was not at
aU handsome nor cleanly. Her mother was one of the
five women-barbers, and a woman of bad character. A
baUad was made on her and the other four; the burden
of it was — " Did you ever hear the like.
Or ever hear the same.
Of five women-barbers,
That lived in Drury Lane?"
Nan Clarges was much abused by her contemporaries
for the vulgarity of her manners. Even in that age,
when refinement of conversation was not very common,
she was considered coarse. Monk had a great opinion
of her understanding, and often consulted her in the
greatest emergencies, and it is said that he was very
much afraid of her; "that he did not like to offend her,
as she presently took fire, and her anger knew no bounds."
Pepys, who had no respect for the Duchess, relates the

328 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
following, under date of the 4th of November, 1666: —
" Mr. Cooling teUs me the Duke of Albemarle is groAvn
.a drunken sot, and drinks with nobody but Troutbecke,
AA'hom nobody else will keep company with, of whom he
told me this story, that once the Duke of Albemarle, in
his drink, taking notice, as of a wonder, that Nan Hide
should ever come to be Duchess of York, 'Nay,' says
Troutbecke, ' ne'er Avonder at that, for if you wUl give
me another bottle of wine, I wiU tell you as great, if not
a greater miracle. And what Avas that, but that our dirty
Bess (meaning his Duchess) should ever come to be
Duchess of Albemarle.' " In other parts of his " Memoirs,"
Pepys describes the Duchess as a " plain homely dowdy,"
and " a very ill-looked Avoman." She died the 23rd of
January, 1670, after a long and tedious indisposition,
surviving her husband but twenty days.
Nell Gwynne resided in Drury Lane, before she re
moved, in the plenitude of royal favour, to more sumptu
ous apartments in Pall Mall. It should be, however,
remembered that Drury Lane was then a fashionable
street. It is the minute Pepys, who had an eye for
everything and for eVery body, who records the fact. He
says, under date of May 1st, 1667, " To Westminster, in
the way meeting many mUkmaids, with garlands upon
their pails, dancing with a fiddler before them, and saw
pretty Nelly standing at her lodging-door in Drury Lane,
in her smock sleeves and bodice, looking at them. She
seemed a mighty pretty creature."
We learn from this extract another circumstance
pending the fact of Nell Gwynne's residence in Drury
Lane, namely, that before the sweeps took to celebrating

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 329
May Day, that duty Avas performed by the milk-maids.
There is a tradition, but resting upon no good authority,
that NeU Gwynne, before she went on the stage, used to
seU oranges in Drury Lane.
Pope speaks of Drury Lane as being the residence of
poor authors : — " Keep your piece nine years —
' Nine years !' cries he, who, high in Drury Lane,
Lulled by soft zephyrs thro' the broken paue.
Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before term ends,
Obliged by hunger and request of friends."
According to the minute detaUs given by Defoe, in his
" Journal of the Plague Year," that awful visitation first
showed itself in Drury Lane. His words are, — " At the
atter end of November, or the beginning of December,
1664, two men, said to be Frenchmen, died of the
plague in Long Acre, or rather, at the upper end of
Drury Lane. The family they were in, endeavoured to
conceal it as much as possible, but as it had gotten some
vent in the discourse of the neighbourhood, the Secre
taries of State got knowledge of it ; and concerning them
selves to inquire about it, in order to be certain of the '
truth, two physicians and a siu'geon were ordered to go
to the house and make inspection. This they did, and
finding evident tokens of the sickness upon both the
bodies that were dead, they gave their opinions publicly
that they died of the plague ; whereupon it was given in
to the parish clerk, and he also returned them to the
HaU, and it was printed in the weekly bill of mortality
in the usual manner. The people shoAved a great con
cern at this, and began to be alarmed all over the town."
We have now to speak of Drury Lane Theatre, and so

330 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
end our reminiscenses of this street. Even so early as
the time of Shakspeare there was a theatre here, which
had formerly been a cock-pit, and was caUed sometimes
by that name, and sometimes the Phoenix. Mr. Malone
says it was buUt or rebuilt not very long before the year
1617, in which year, on the 4th of March, we learn from
"Camden's Annals of King Janies I.," it was puUed
down by the mob. It was called the Phoenix from its
having that fabulous bird for its sign, and is described as
having been opposite the " Castle" tavern in Drury Lane.
There are stUl two aUeys in existence which are named
after this theatre, — Cock-pit AUey, in Great Wyld Street,
and Phoenix AUey, leading from Hart Street into Long
Acre. The players here were denominated the Queen's
servants untU the death of Anne, queen of James I.,
which title they resumed when Charles I. ascended the
throne. The first play in print, expressly said to have
been acted at Drury Lane, is the " Wedding," by Shirley,
printed in 1629.
Among other plays acted at this primitive house may
be mentioned " The Jew of Malta," by Marlowe ; "Woman
KiUed with Kindness," by Heywood; "-The Wftch of
Edmonton," by Ford; the "Whfte DevU," by Webster;
and the "New Way to Pay old Debts," by Massinger;
the only one among them all that still retains its place
upon the stage. None of Shakspeare's plays were acted
in Drury Lane at this period.
During the gloomy times of the fanatics of the Com
monwealth, this theatre was shut up with the rest, and
some say, turned into a conventicle, but of this there is

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 331
no evidence. It was re-opened by Sir Wm. Davenant
in 1658, who had it for a year or two, untU he removed
to the more commodious buUding in Lincoln's Inn Fields,
of which we have already spoken. KUligrew then per
formed with a smaU company at the Phoenix for a short
time ; when, finding it inconvenient, he pulled it down,
and erected a larger edifice on part of its site, and it thus
extended to very nearly the same spot on which the
present theatre stands. The new house was opened on
the 8th of April, 1662, and the company were caUed the
King's servants. Shakspeare's plays now took possession
of the boards of Drury, and were occasionally per
formed with those of Shfrley, Massinger, Ford, Beaumont
and Fletcher, and the newer ones of Dryden, and Sir
Charles Sedley. Pepys, an inveterate play-goer of that
day,] relates in his "Diary" some curious particulars of
the manners of the theatres ; but his own opinions as to
the merits of the plays, — if they may in any way be
looked upon as expressive of the popular opinion of the
times — are more curious. They show how slow was the
reputation of Shakspeare. Like the sturdy oak that is
to last a thousand years, it was long in growing. Other
reputations sprang up in a day, and died in another; but
his^-Uke the acorn — at first brought forth but a smaU
plant, which only rose to be a tree in the course of many
weary years, but stiU kept on increasing until its branches
spread and overshadowed the land. Pepys talks of the
"Midsummer Night's Dream," as "the most insipid,
ridiculous play, that ever he saw in his Ufe;" of the
" Taming of the Shrew," as " a mean play, and a siUy
play, and an old one ;" and of the " Merry Wives of

332 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Windsor," as " a play that did not please him at aU, in
no part of it ;" and of " Henry the Fourth" as a play
that pleased him only in one part, where Falstaff says
"What is honour?' When he saw "Othello," he was
so iU-pleased with the actors, that he does not tell us his
opinion of the play itself While Pepys thus speaks of
the plays of Shakspeare, he is loud in praise of others,
which have long since disappeared from the stage, never
more to be revived. " The Indian Queen," by Sir Robert
Howard and Dryden, he thought a " most pleasant show,
and beyond his expectation, good." " Bartholomew Fair,"
by Ben Jonson, he calls " the best comedy in the world."
The " Rival Ladies," by Dryden, " a very innocent and
most pretty, witty, play." " Volpone," by Ben Jonson,
" a most excellent play : the best he ever saw." The
" Change of Crowns," by Ned Howard, " the best he
ever saw at this house, (Drury Lane,) being a great play,
and serious ;" and the " SUent Woman," by Ben Jonson,
" the best comedy that ever was wrote."
" The King's Theatre," as it Avas then called, did not last
long, being burned down within ten years of its erection,
together with upwards of fifty of the adjoining houses. It
was rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren, and opened again
on the 26th of March, 1674; on which occasion a pro
logue from the pen of Dryden was spoken. It would
appear that the new building was not so magnificent as
the town had been led to believe it would be : Dryden
says,— " A plain-built house, after so long a stay.
Will send you half unsatisfy'd away ;
When fall'n from your expected pomp, you find
A bare convenience only is designed.

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 333
You, who each day can theatres behold.
Like Nero's palace, shining all with gold.
Our mean ungilded stage will scorn, we fear.
And for the homely room disdain the cheer.
****** They who are by your favours wealthy made.
With mighty sums may carry on the trade ;
We, broken bankers, half-destroyed by fire.
With our small stocks to humble roofs retire :
For fame and honour we no longer strive.
We yield in both, and only beg to live."
In 1686 it was agreed by the patentees of this theatre
and of the Duke's Company, in Lincoln's Inn Fields,
that as there was not sufficient encouragement on the
part of the pubUc to support the theatres, they should
unite and perforin only at Drury Lane, and upon this
occasion also, a play caUed the " King and Queen" being
performed, a prologue was written by Dryden. Rich
and Sir Richard Steele were successively patentees ; by a
license granted to the latter in the first year of George I.,
he continued, with the assistance of Wilks, Booth, and
Cibber, to carry on its affairs with considerable success,
until the year 1733, when the rival theatre of Covent
Garden was buUt, since which time, in spite of the increase
of the town, there has never been sufficient encouragement
of the drama to maintain these two large theatres together
in that degree of prosperity which their managers ought
reasonably to look forward to. The next two patentees
after Sir Richard Steele, namely, Highmone and Fleet
wood, were both ruined.
In the year 1741, the building having become ruinous,
(which shows, by the way, that Dryden's prologue but
spoke the truth as to the meanness of the edifice and the

334 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
poverty of its buUders,) it was greatly altered and
enlarged, and almost rebuilt. Garrick became the
manager in 1747, when the weU-known address of Dr.
Johnson was spoken, beginning —
" When Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes
First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose.''
Garrick continued to be almost its sole support untU
his death, when the property changed. The new pro
prietors having also purchased the dormant patent of
KiUigrew, rebuilt the theatre on a more magnificent scale
than before. The architect was Mr. Henry Holland, and
the new theatre was opened in 1794, after the sum of
200,000/. had been expended upon it. The stage was
75 feet wide, and the interior was calculated to hold
upwards of 3,600 persons. The exterior was never
completed. This unlucky buUding scarcely lasted above
fifteen years.
On the 24th of February, 1809, a fire broke out,
which totaUy destroyed it with aU its scenery, dresses,
and appurtenances. Sheridan, whose fortune was in
volved in it, was at the time in the House of Commons,
and a sudden blaze being observed from the windows,
several members rushed out to ascertain where the fire
was raging. They soon returned with the information,
mournful to aU, but especiaUy so to Sheridan, that
Drury Lane theatre was on fire. The House was occu
pied in discussing the question of the Spanish war, on
which Sheridan had expressed his intention of speak
ing, and so much sympathy was felt for him that a
motion was made to adjourn the debate, but Sheridan
repUed, with much presence of mind and, calmness under

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 335
misfortune, "that whatever might be the extent of the
private calamity, he hoped it would not interfere with
the pubUc business of the country." With these words
he retfred from the House, and arrived in Drury Lane
just in time to ascertain that he was a ruined man, and
that there was no hope of saving any portion of the
buUding. It is said of him, we know not with what truth,
that he afterwards went into a tavern on the other side
of the street, where he was found by a friend, drinking a
bottle of wine. His friend wondered, which Sheridan
observing, asked "If a man might not be aUowed to enjoy
a glass at his own fire-side 1" Thus is wit superior to
misfortune ; a man wiU joke in the jaws of ruin, and some
have had their jest, though they knew they must die the
next minute.
Great exertions were made to rebuild the theatre; and
the requisite funds having been subscribed, the plan of
Mr. Benjamin Wyatt was adopted, and the buUding com
menced in 1811. It proceeded with great rapidity, and
was opened for the first time on the 10th of October,
1812, the performances being "Hamlet" and "The DevU
to Pay." The house is not so capacious as fts prede
cessor, holding about 800 persons less.
The beautiful address of Dr. Johnson for the opening
of the former theatre being remembered, the proprietors,
anxious to have another as good for their opening night,
inserted the foUowing advertisement in the news
papers : —
"Rebuilding of Drury Lane Theatre.— The committee are desirous
of promoting a ^ir and free competition for an Address, to be
spoken upon the opening of the Theatre, which will take place on

336 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the 10th of October next; they have therefore thought fit to an
nounce to the public, that they will be glad to receive any such
compositions, addressed to their secretary, at the Treasury-Office,
in Drury Lane, on or before the last day of August, sealed up, with
a distinguishing word, number, or motto, in the corner, correspond
ing with the inscription on a separate sealed paper, containing the
name of the author, which wiU not be opened unless containing the
name of the successful candidate. — Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,
Augt. 6th, 1812."
Other advertisements afterwards appeared, offering
twenty guineas as the prize, and extending the time for
the sending in of the address to the 10th of September.
The result was, that their desks were covered Avith
poetical contributions ; but not one of them was of more
than mediocre merit — that species of merit, detested, as
the wit said, " both by gods and men." They were in
sad despair, as we learn from the notes to the coUected
works of Lord Byron, when Lord HoUand interfered, and,
not without difficulty, prevailed on Lord Byron to write
an address for the occasion, "at the risk," the poet
feared, "of offending a hundred rival scribblers and a
discerning pubUc." Lord Byron's address was accepted,
and delivered on the night of opening by Mr. EUiston,
who performed the part of Hamlet. The foUoAving pas
sage, giving a short history of the former edifice was
much applauded, though the address was generaUy voted
tame by the diurnal critics — perhaps because it was not
well spoken : —
" As soars this fane to emulate the last,
Oh, might we draw our omens from the past !
Some hour, propitious to our prayers, may boast.
Names such as hallow still the dome we lost.
On Drury, first your Siddons' thrilling art»
O'erwhelm'd the gentlest, storm'd the sternest heart;

IN THE STRKETS OF LONDON. 337
On Drury, Garrick's latest laurels grew,
Here your last tears retiring Roscius drew,
Sigh'd his last thanks, and wept his last adieu.
The admirable jeu d' esprit of Janies and Horace Smith,
entitled '.' The Rejected Addresses," wUl long preserve
the memory of the burning of Old Drury.
This theatre has scarcely ever prospered since it was
built. It was conducted, after the retirement of Mr. T.
Sheridan, by a committee of proprietors, but Avith such
small success, that they became involved in debt and
unable to pay the performers. In 1814 it was let for
fourteen years to the highest bidder, Avhich happened to
be Mr. EUiston, who therefore took it at the yearly rental
of 10,200/., and to expend 15,000Z. in repairs. Captain
PolhiU afterAvards became the lessee, and lost large sums
of money. The tAvo last lessees, Messrs. Bunn and
Hammond, Avere made bankrupts by their speculation.
Towards the middle of the year 1840 it was re-opened,
after being prematurely closed for some months, for the
new entertainment of promenade concerts.
Passing through Brydges Street and Catherine Street
Ave arrive once more in the Strand, and resume our walk
down that ancient thoroughfare towards St. Paul's.

VOL. I.

338 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE

PART IV.

FROM WATERLOO BRIDGE TO TEMPLE BAR.
Returning from Drury Lane, we pass by Catherine
Street, which bore rather a questionable character
when Gay wrote his "Trivia." It has improved its
morals since his time, and is now the head-quarters of
newsmen and newspapers. Here are published the
"Morning Herald," the "Court Journal," the "Naval
and MUitary -Gazette," the " Gardeners' Gazette," the
" Court Gazette, &c." The Sans Pareil, a small theatre
in this street, which has been closed for many years,
is now turned into a shop. It was taken about thirty
years ago, by a Mr. Scott, who obtained a license, from
the Lord Chamberlain for the performance of operettas
with the addition of dancing and pantomimes.
WeUington Street, a short distance westward, is a
modern street, forming one of the approaches to Waterloo
Bridge. At the corner is D'Oyley's warehouse, where
there Avas a fashionable shop of the same name, for the
same articles of manufacture, in the days of Addison.
This house, which was rebuUt in 1838, stands, as we
learn from Pennant, upon the site of Wimbledon House,
buUt by Sir Edward CecU, son to the first Eari of Exeter,
and created Viscount Wunbledon by Charles I.

in THE STREETS OP LONDON. 339
In this street is the elegant theatre known by the
names of the English Opera House and the Lyceum.
The original Ljceum, buUt by Mr. James Payne, the
architect, in 1765, fronted towards the Strand, and was
occupied for a short period as an academy for the Society
of Artists, for the exhibition of their pictures. When
they quitted it, the place was let out to various persons,
sometimes being occupied by painters, and sometimes by
conjurors. In the year 1807 it Avas opened by Mr. Ar
nold, for regular theatrical performances, principally
operas ; and when Drui'y Lane Theatre was burned down
in 1808, it was taken by the latter company until their
own house was rebuilt. The old house was taken down
in 1815, and a new edifice erected, from the design of
Mr. Beazley, the architect and dramatic author. This
building was unfortunately destroyed by fire in March,
1830. Preparations were immediately made to construct
a stiU more elegant edifice than that destroyed, and a
new sfte, after some delay, having been fixed upon, the
present theatre was built, and opened in 1834.
We are now within sight of Waterloo Bridge, the
finest structure of fts kind in Europe, not even excepting
the New London Bridge. A great portion of the pre
cincts of the old palace of the Savoy was pulled down,
as we have already mentioned, to make room for it, and
the foundation stone was laid in September, 1811. The
original name given to ft was the Strand Bridge*, but
before fts completion the glorious battle of Waterloo was
* There was a little bridge in the Strand at a very early period,
over a small stream that ran down Catherine Street into the Thames,
which went by the same name. There is an amusing paper in the
Z 2

340 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
fought, and it was determined to give that name to the
new structure. The architect was the late Mr. John
Rennie, and the bridge was finished within the short
space of six years. It was opened Avith great pomp on
the 18th of June, 1817, the second anniversary of the
battle of Waterloo, in presence of the Duke of Welling
ton, the Prince Regent, the Duke of York, and other
illustrious personages.
Oanova said of this bridge, that it Avas " Avorth a visit
from the remotest corner of the earth." It consists of
nine elliptical arches, of one hundred and twenty feet
span, and thirty-five feet elevation, and from shore to
shore measures twelve hundred and forty-two feet. The
view from the bridge is particularly fine, and affords a
complete panorama of London, Westminster, Southwark,
and Lambeth.
Somerset House, the river front of Avhich is by far the
most prominent object in the view, stands upon ground
of historical importance. According to Stow, the
Bishops of Worcester had their toAvn residence here in
the thirteenth century, and the Bishops of Lichfield and
Coventry, theirs. The latter building, says this authon
Avas called Chester's Inn, as the Bishoprick of Chester
Avas at that time annexed to the see of Lichfield and
Coventry. The Bishops of Landaff had also their inn
Avithin the same precincts; and close by stood the Strand
Inn, an inn of Chancery, belonging to the Temple, in
" Spectator," No. 454, for the 11th of August, 1712, by Sir Richard
Steele, in which he describes the landing of the market-girls
at Strand Bridge from Richmond and its vicinity to Covent
Garden.

in the streets op londoxY. ;34i
Avhich Occleve the poet, the contemporary of GoAver and
Chaucer, is said to have studied the laAV. All these
houses were pulled down by the powerful Protector
Somerset, to make room for his palace, Avhich he intended
to make more magnificent than any that had ever before
been seen in England, not even excepting the splendid,
and at that time recent, erection of Hampton Court.
Sir WilUam Dugdale, in his "Baronetage," vol. ii. p. 363,
speaking of this nobleman, says —
" Many well-disposed miudes conceived a very hard opinion of
hhn, ,for causing a church near Strand Bridge, and two bishojjs'
houses to be pulled down, to make a seat for his new building,
(called Somerset House) ; in digging the foundation whereof, tho
bones of many who had been there buried, wore cast up and carried
into the fields. And because the stones of that church and those
houses were not sufficient for that work, the steejde and most p)art of
the.churih of St. John of Hierusalem near Smithfield were mined
and overthrown with powder, and the stones carried thereto. So
likewise the cfoisfer on the north side of St. Paid's^Cathedral, and
the charnel-house on the south side thereof, with the chapel; tho
tombes and monuments therein being all beaten down, the bones of
the dead carried into Finsbury Fields, and the stones converted to
this building. And it was confidently affirmed, that, for the same
purpose, he intended to have pulled down St. Margareis Church at
Westminster, but that the standing thereof was preserved by his
fall." After his execution the palace became the property of
the Crown, and the use of it was granted by Queen
EUzabeth to her cousin, by the mother's side. Lord
Hunsdon, and here she frequently visited him. Anne
of Denmark, Queen of James I., kept her court here ; and,
during her lifetime, it was knoAvn by the name of Den
mark House. Wilson, in his " Life of James I.," says,
" The Queen kept a continual mascarado in it ; she and

342 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
her ladies, like so many sea-nymphs or Nereides, appear
ing in various dresses, to the ravishment of the be
holders." From this time the palace appears to have been con
sidered the appanage of the Queen Consort of England.
Queen Henrietta Maria resided in it with her extravagant
French household, and the too open encouragement which
she gave to Catholics and foreigners, was the occasion of
many disputes between her and her husband, and of no
little ill-wiU towards her on the part of the nation. The
foUowing particulars, extracted from L'Estrange's " Life
of Charles I." and quoted by D'Israeli in his " Com
mentaries" on the life and reign of that monarch, afford
an interesting specimen of court manners. After having
endured repeated annoyance from the Queen's French
household, Charles deterinined at last, by one bold effort
to get rid of them altogether, and having summoned
them all together, says L'Estrange, he addressed them in
the following speech : —
" Gentlemen and ladies,
" I am driven to that extremity, as I am personally come to
acquaint you, that I very earnestly desire your return into France.
True it is, the deportment of some amongst you hath been very
inofiensive to me; but others again have so dallied with my
patience, and so highly afironted me, as I cannot, and will not,
longer endure it."
" The king's address implicating no one," says D'IsraeU,
" was immediately foUowed by a voUey of protestations
of innocence. An hour after he had deUvered his com^
mands, Lord Conway announced to the foreigners, that
early in the morning carriages and carts and horses would
be ready for them and their baggage. Amidst a scene

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 343
of confusion, the young bishop (he was scarcely of age)
protested that this was impossible ; that they owed debts
in London, and that much was due to them. On the
foUowing day, the Procureur-General of the queen flew
to the Keeper of the Great Seal at the Privy Council,
requiring an admission to address his Majesty, then pre
sent at his CouncU, on matters important to himself and
the queen. This being denied, he exhorted them to
maintain the queen in aU her royal prerogatives ; and he
was answered, ' So we do.' Their prayers and disputes
served to postpone their departure. Their conduct during
this time was not very decorous. It appears, by a con
temporary letter-writer, that they flew to take possession
of the queen's wardrobe and jewels. They did not leave
her a change of Unen, since it was with difficulty her
Majesty procured one. Every one now looked to lay his
hand on what he might caU his own. Everything he
could touch was a perquisite. One extraordinary expe
dient, was that of inventing bills to the amount of 10,000/.
for articles and other engagements in which they had
entered for the service of the queen, which her Majesty
acknowledged, but afterwards confessed that the debts
were fictitious."
The king, after waiting a reasonable time for their
departure, at last grew so indignant at the continual de
lays and obstacles which arose every day, that he sent
the foUowing letter to the Duke of Buckingham to make
an end of it, in answer to one from the duke : —
" Steenie,
" I have received your letter by Die Greame (Sir Richard Gra-
hame). This is my answer : I command you to send all the French

344 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
away to-morrow out of the towne, if you can by fair meanes, (but
stike not long in disputing), otherways force them away, dryving
them away lyke so manie wilde beastes, until ye have shipped
them, and so the devil goe with them. Let me heare no answer,
but of the performance of my command. So I rest
" Your faithful, constant, loving friend, " C. R."
" Oakiug, " The Seventh of August, 1026."
" This order," says Mr. D'IsraeU, " put an end to the de
lay, but the king paid the debts, the fictitious ones and all,
— at the cost, as it appears, of 50,000Z. Even the haughty
beauty, Madame St. George, was presented by the king, on
her dismission, with several thousand pounds and jewels.
" The French bishop and the whole party, having
contrived all sorts of delays, to avoid the expulsion, the
yeomen of the guard were sent to turn them out of Somer
set House, whence the juvenile prelate, at the same time
making his protest and mounting the steps of the coach,
took his departure ' head and shoulders.' In a long pro
cession of near forty coaches, after four days' tedious
travelling, they reached Dover; but the spectacle of
these impatient foreigners, so reluctantly quitting Eng
land, gesticulating their sorrows, or their quarrels, ex
posed them to the derision and stirred up the prejudices
of the common people. As Madame St. George, whose
vivacity is always described as extremely French, was
stepping into the boat, one of the mob could not resist
the satisfaction of flinging a stone at her French cap.
An EngUsh courtier, who was conducting her, instantly
quitted his charge, ran the feUow through the body, and
quietly returned to the boat. The man died on the spot,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 345
but no further notice appears to have been taken of the
inconsiderate gallantry of the English courtier."
The foUowing extract from a tract, entitled " Certain
information from several parts of the Kingdom," p. 87,
No. 11, under date of Friday, March 31, 1643, shows
the popular feeling against popery and the French at
that time : —
" This day, the images and popish pictures that were found in
Somerset House, and the chappell thereof, were all burnt and
utterly destroyed, together with all the Jesuits' call-papers and
bookes that could be found there; and tho costly hangings in the
chappell were also totally defaced and spoiled, to the end that no
signe or character of popery might remain there."
In the year 1659 an Act Avas passed for the sale of the
honours, manors, and lands belonging to King Charles,
his consort, and son, for the payment of the army, and it
would appear from LudloAv's " Memoirs,'' that Somerset
House, with the exception of the chapel, was sold for
10,000Z. The Restoration, however, intervened before
the bargain was completed. Walpole, in his " Anecdotes
of Painting," thus details the circumstances by which
Somerset House escaped destruction during the period of
the Revolution : — " An account of it," says he, " is
preserved in a very scarce tract, intituled, ' An Essay on
the Wonders of God in the times that preceded Christ,
and how they meet in him ; written in France, by John
D'Espagne, Minister of the Gospel, who died in 1650,
and noAv published in English, by his Executor, Henry
Browne; London, 1662, 8vo.' In the preface, the Editor
teUs us that the author preached at the French Church
in Durham House, Avhere his sermons were attended by
many of the nobiUty and gentry. That being demolished,

346 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
he says it pleased God to touch the hearts of the nobility
to procure us an order of the House of Peers to exercise
our devotions at Somerset House Ohapel; which was the
cause not only of the driving away of the Anabaptists,
Quakers, and other sects that had got in there, but also
of hindering the pulling down of Somerset House, there
having been twice an order of the late usurped powers
for selling the said house; but we prevaUed so, that we
still got an order to exempt the chapel from being sold,
which broke the design of those who had bought the
said house, who thought for thefr improvement to have
made a street from the garden through the ground the
chapel stands on, and so up the back yard to the great
street of the Strand, by pulUng down the said chapel."
Among other reminiscences of Somerset House at this
period, it should not be forgotten that Inigo Jones, the
architect of the building, and who-^had lodgings in it, died
here on the 21st of July, 1651, and that the body of
CromweU was laid in state in the great haU. It was
removed hither from WhitehaU, where he died, and lay in
state on the 1st of November, 1658, and foUowing days.
" He was represented," says Ludlow, in his " Memoirs,"
" in effigie, standing on a bed of crimson velvet, covered
with a gown of the like coloured velvet, a sceptre in his
hand and a crown upon his head." LudloAV adds, that
upon the occasion of his funeral, the people were so pro
voked at the gorgeous and royal display, that they threw
dirt in the night upon his escutcheon, which was placed
over the great gate of Somerset House.
After the Restoration, Somerset House again became
the residence of the widowed Henrietta Maria, who spent

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 347
considerable sums in beautifying and improving it. That
bland old courtier Waller— for though only fifty-seven at
this time, he was a veteran in courtly usages — wrote some
verses to Her Majesty upon the occasion, beginning —
" Great Queen, that does our island bless
With princes and with palaces.
Treated so ill, chased from your throne.
Returning, you adorn the town;
And with a brave revenge do show,
Their glory went and came with you.''
And ending —
" The state and order does proclaim.
The genius of the royal dame.
Each part with just proportion graced,
And all to such advantage placed.
That the fair view her window yields.
The town, the river, and the fields ;
Entering, beneath us we descry.
And wonder how we came so high.
She needs no weary feet ascend.
All seems before her feet to bend ;
And here, as she was born, she lies,
High, without taking pains to rise."
Cowley also wrote some verses upon the same occasion,
fiUed with the grossest flattery, in which God and his
godUke mistress are represented as thinking alike ! Some
of the verses may be quoted, as containing a description
of the Strand and the river at that period. The palace
itself is represented as speaking : —
" Before my gate a street's broad channel goes.
Which still with waves of crowding people fiows ;
And every day there passes by my side.
Up to its western reach the London tide.
The spring-tides of the term — my front looks down
On all the pride and business of the town ;

348 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
My other fair and more majestic face.
For ever gazes on itself below.
In the best mirror that the world can show.
And here, behold, in a long bending row.
How two joint cities make one glorious bow;
The midst, the noblest place, possessed by me.
Best to be seen by all, and all o'ersee.
AVhich way soe'er I turn my joyful eye.
Here the great court, there the rich town I sjjy.
On either side dwells Safety and Delight,
Wealth on the left, and Power sits on the right."
But Queen Henrietta Maria was not permitted to have
all the palace to herself It was by right the residence
of the Queen Consort, and the unhappy and neglected
Catharine of Portugal kept her Court in it, inferior how
ever in splendour to that of Henrietta Maria. Pepys in
his "Diary," gives a description of the sort of life that
Avas led here at this period. " Meeting," says he, " Mr.
Pierce, the chirurgeon, he took me into Somerset House,
and there carried me into the Queen Mother's presence-
chamber, Avliere she Avas with our, own Queen, sitting on
the left hand, whom I did never see before ; and though
she be not very charming, yet she hath a good modest
and innocent look, which is pleasing. Here I also saw
Madame Oastlemaine, and, which pleased me most, Mr.
Crofts, the King's bastard, a most pretty spark, of about
fifteen years old; who, I perceive, do hang much upon
my Lady Castlemaine, and is always with her, and I hear
both the Queens are mighty kind to him. By-and-by in
comes the King, and anon the Duke and his Duchess (of
York) ; so that they being all together, was such a sight
as I never could almost have happened to see Avith so
much ease and leisure. They staid tiU it Avas dark, and

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 349
then Avent away ; the King and his Queen, and my Lady
Castlemaine and young Crofts in one coach, and the rest
in other coaches. Here Avere great stores of ladies, but
very few handsome. The King and Queen were very
merry, and he Avould have made the Queen Mother be
lieve that his Queen was with chUd, and said that she
said so, and the young Queen ansAvered, ' You lie,' which
was the first EngUsh word that ever I heard her say,
Avhich made the King good sport, and he would have
niade her say in English, ' confess and be hanged.' "
After the death of Monk, duke of Albemarle, which
took place at his lodgings, in the Cock-pit, Whitehall, on
the 4th of January, 1 6 70, the king gave orders that his
remains should be conveyed to Somerset House, to lay in
state. The ceremony is described as being more magnifi
cent than was ever known before in the case of a subject.
He was afterwards buried with almost regal pomp in
Henry the Seventh's Chapel.
It was long believed that Somerset House was the
scene of the extraordinary and stUl mysterious murder of
Sir Edmondbury Godfrey; but Pennant's reasons for
supposing this opinion to be erroneous seem quite satis
factory. " The infamous witnesses," says he, " declared
that he was waylaid, and inveigled into Somerset House,
under pretence of keeping the peace between tAvo servants
Avho were fighting in the yard ; that he Avas there strangled,
his neck broken, and his own SAVord run through his body;
that he was kept four days before they ventured to re
move him. At length, his corpse was first carried in a
sedan chair to Soho, and then on a horse to Primrose
HiU, between Kilburn and Hampstead. ^'' '¦• '"" It

350 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
is not probable the murder was committed within these
waUs, for the assassins would never have hazarded a dis
covery by carrying the corpse three mUes, when they
could have so safely disposed of it in the Thames. The
abandoned character of the Avitnesses Prance and Bedloe,
together with the absurd and irreconcUable testimony
which they gave on the trial, has made unprejudiced
times doubt the whole story."
On the death of Charles IL, Catharine of Braganza
removed entfrely to this palace, where she kept her court
for nearly seven years. She quitted England for Portu
gal in 1692, leaving the care of the palace to the Earl of
Faversham, who resided in it untU after her death in
1705, when the place reverted to the Crown. It then
became appropriated as the occasional lodgings of Ulus
trious persons, or ambassadors, who visited England ; and
so continued untU its demolition.
The foUowing description of the old buUding is taken
from Mr. Brayley's abridgment of an account by Mr.
Moser in the " European Magazine."
"At the extremity of the royal apartments, which
might be termed semi-modern, two large folding-doors
connected the architecture of Inigo Jones with the
ancient structure; these opened into a long gallery on
the first floor of a building which occupied one side of the
water garden; at the lower end of which was another
gaUery, or suite of apartments, which made an angle
forming the original front towards the river, and extending
to Strand Lane. This old part of the mansion had been
long shut up, and reputed to be haunted. When opened
by the direction of Sir WUUam Chambers, the long gal-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 351
lery was observed to be lined with oak in smaU panels ;
the heights of their moiUdings had been touched with
gold; it had an oaken floor, and stuccoed ceiUng, from
which stiU depended part of the chains, &c., to Avhich
had hung chandeliers. Against the sides some sconces
stiU remained. From several circumstances, it was
evident that this gaUery had been used as a baU-room.
" The furniture which had decorated the royal apart
ments had, for the conveniency of the Academy, and
perhaps prior to that estabUshment, been removed to this
and the adjoining suite of apartments. It was extremely
curious to observe, thrown together in the utmost confu
sion, various articles the fashions and forms of which
showed that they were the production of different
periods. In one part, were the vestiges of a throne and
a canopy of state ; in another, curtains for the audience-
chamber, which had once been crimson velvet, fringed
with gold, but which, except in the deepest folds, had
faded to an oUve colour. AU the fringe and lace, except a
few threads and spangles, had been ripped off: the orna
ments of the chairs of state demoUshed, and stools,
couches, screens, and fire-dogs, broken and scattered
about in a state of derangement, which might tempt a
phUosopher to moralize upon the transitory nature of
sublunary splendour and human enjoyments.
" In the suite of apartments which formed the other
side of the angle fronting the Thames, and which had
been adorned in a style of splendour and magnificence
creditable to the taste of the age of Edward VI., part of
the ancient furniture remained; and indeed, from the
stability of fts materials and construction, might have

352 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
remained for centuries, had proper attention been paid
to its preservation. The audience-chamber had been
hung with silk, Avhich was in tatters, as Avere the curtains,
gilt leather covers, and painted screens. In this and a
much longer room were various articles which had been
confusedly removed from other apartments : some of the
sconces, though reversed, were still against the hangings ;
and one of the brass gilt chandeUers still depended from
the ceiling. Passing through these rooms, a pair of
doors, with difficulty opened, gave access to an apartment
upon the first floor of a small pile, which formed a kind
of tower at the end of the old building ; and the internal
part of which was unquestionably the Avork of Inigo
Jones. This had been used as a breakfast or dressing-
room by Catharine, the queen of Charles IL, and had
more the appearance of a small temple than of a room.
It was of an octagonal form, and the ceiling rose in a
dome from a beautiful cornice. There appeared such an
elegant simplicity in the architecture, and such a truly
attic grace in the ornaments, that Sir William Chambers
exceedingly regretted the necessity there was for its
dilapidation. The figures painted upon the panels were
in fresco ; the ornaments under the surbase Avere in thefr
heights touched Avith gold. The few articles of furniture
that remained here were in the antique style, and there
Avere several pictures upon the ground. From this room
a small door opened upon the staircase; and on the
ground-floor was an apartment of an octagonal form, lined
entirely with marble, in the interior closets of which
Avere a hot and a cold bath."
The general state of Somerset House— its mouldering

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 353
walls and decayed furniture, broken casements, falling
roof and the long range of its uninhabited and unin-
habftable apartments — presented to the mind in strong,
though gloomy colours, a correct picture of those dilapi
dated castles, the haunts of spectres and magicians, which
have so highly distinguished the romances of recent
times. The Avinding stairs, dark galleries, long arcades,
ceUs and dungeons, as they might have been termed,
impervious to the solar beam, in the ancient part of this
building, Avere indeed most admirably adapted for scenes
of a terrific and doleful character, in which ghosts and
gleaming torches, banditti, murderers, cowled friars, and
shrieking virgins might have threaded the mazes of its
gloomy precincts in all the appaUing grandeur of the
creations of a RadcUffe — making night horrible.
In the year 1775, Somerset House, which had been
settled on the Queen Consort in 1761, in the event of
her surviving his Majesty, was again vested in the King,
and Buckingham House or Palace settled upon the Queen
instead. The object of this change Avas to enable the
Government to demoUsh the old building, and erect a
new one to be laid out for the A^arious public offices.
The Act to this effect was passed on the 26th of May,
and the demolition shortly afterwards commenced. The
designs of Sir WiUiam Chambers for the new edifice
having been adopted, the works were commenced under
the superintendance of that architect, and five years
afterwards the Strand and river fronts were nearly com
pleted. In a report made to the House of Commons on
the 1st of May, 1780, relative to the progress of the
works. Sir WilUam Chambers thus describes the buUding :
VOL. I. 2 A

354 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
— " The Strand front extends 135 feet, is 61 feet deep,
and has two wings, each 46 feet wide and 42 feet in
depth, the whole being seven story high. It is faced
with Portland stone, built with hard greystock brick,
Russian timber, and the best material of aU kinds, and is
covered partly with copper, and partly with lead and
Westmoreland slate. All the fronts of this structure are
decorated with a rustic arcade basement, a Corinthian
order of columns and pUasters, enriched windows, balus
trades, statues, masks_, medaUions, and various other
ornamental works necessary to distinguish this principal
and most conspicuous part of the design, which being in
itself trifling, as compared with the whole, requfred not
only particular forms and proportions, but Ukewise some
profusion of ornaments to mark its superiority. Decora
tions, too, have been more frequently employed in the
vestibule of entrance, and in aU the public apartments
of this buUding, than wUl be necessary in the remainder
of the work, because the vestibule, opening to the most
frequented street in London, is a general passage to the
whole design, and the apartments are intended for the
reception of useful learning and poUte arts, where, it is
humbly presumed, specimens of elegance should at least
be attempted. The work just described forms the upper
part or northern side of a large quadrangular court, being
in Avidth 210 feet, and in depth 296 feet, surrounded
with buUdings 54 feet deep and six stories high, con
taining the Navy, the Navy Pay, the VictuaUing, and
the Sick and Hurt Offices, the Ordnance Office, the
Stamp, Salt, and Tax Offices, the Surveyor-General of
Crown Lands, and the offices of the Duchies of Lancaster

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 355
and Cornwall; also the offices of the two Auditors of
Imprests and the Pipe, the Measurer's Remembrancer
the Clerk of the Estreats, and Comptroller of the Pipe,
with various apartments for secretaries and other persons
whose residence in their several offices has been judged
convenient for the public service  Besides
the progress made in the extensive works already men
tioned, the foundations are laid at a considerable space
in the river for the embankment, to the extent of 438
feet, by a width of 46 feet, upon which is raised a rustic
granite basement, 13 feet 7 inches high, with a range of
arched stone gaUeries and apartments built thereon, all
to the same extent." The architect calculated the total
expense of the building at 250,000?., but various appli
cations to Parliament for further sums increased the cost
of it to more than half a miUion sterling. Many of the
pubhc offices mentioned in the list above given are stiU
kept here, besides various others since estabUshed; and
there is stiU accommodation for such new departments
as the exigencies of the pubUc service require.
The Strand front of this fine edifice, though much
admired, is not equal in beauty to that upon the river.
The latter has a proud and commanding appearance;
and were it not for the insignificant cupola upon the top
of it, would be, St. Paul's excepted, the noblest edifice in
London. In Somerset House are the chambers of the Royal
and Antiquarian Societies. The Royal Society, esta
bUshed in the reign of Charies IL, had fts first loca
tion in Old Gresham CoUege, Aldersgate Street, whence,
after the great fire of London, ft removed to Arundel
2 A 2

356 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
House, in the Strand. When its former premises were
rebuilt, the Society returned to them. It then went
to Crane Court, Fleet Street; but its various lodgings
being all found inconvenient, apartments were aUotted
to it in Somerset House by George III., soon after the
completion of the present edifice. Dr. Spratt ascribes
the origin of this distinguished society to the Hon. Robert
Boyle, Sir William Petty, and Dr. Wilkins, who, with
the Bishop of Bristol, Drs. Wallis, Goddard, WUlis,
Bathurst, Christopher (afterAvards Sir Christopher) Wren,
and Messrs. Rook and Matthew Wren, were in the habit
of meeting in the apartments of Dr. Wilkins, of Wadham
College, Oxford. Their meetings Avere interrupted in
1658 by the breaking up of their company, owing to the
necessary absence of various members to fulfil their
duties in different parts of the country; but a few of
them meeting again in London, once more became the
focus of a ncAv society. They at last excited the atten
tion of Charles IL, who, by letters patent of the 22nd
of April, 1663, incorporated them under the appeUation
of " The President, Council, and Fellows of the Royal
Society of London for improving Natural Knowledge."
It is said that Charles frequently attended the meetings
of the Society, and an amusing story is related of a hoax
that he once played off upon the learned members, some
of whom were continuaUy flattering him for an extent of
erudition and knowledge which he Avell kncAV he did not
possess. No one presumed to doubt his word, — no one
ventured to differ Avith him in opinion, however absurd it
might be.
One day, says the story, the King entered the apart-

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 357
ments of the Society apparently lost in meditation,
and advancing to the table, said, Avith a grave air and
accent, " Mr. President, my lords, and gentlemen : What is
the reason that, if I nearly fill tAvo paUs of equal dimen
sions with water, and then put into one of them a living
fish weighing four pounds, that the one containing the
fish Avill still not be heavier than the other'?" An ani
mated discussion immediately arose, and various opinions
were stated with due gravity, and abundance of learned
arguments and authorities in support of each. " The fish
being buoyant, is the cause of no accession of Aveight,"
said one. " The momentum of life, and the vis inertite of
the animal," said another, " prevent any pressure on the
sides of the vessel, and an atmosphere existing around a
living body, the fish is, as it were, suspended therein, so that
the scale cannot be at all affected by its individual weight;"
wliUe a third advanced a proposition equally intelligible
to others, but far more satisfactory to himself " Please
your Majesty," said an old member, at last, " I doubt the
fact." "Ods bodikins, and so do I, honest man," ex
claimed the King, bursting into laughter; " and I hope,
for the future, before you reason upon alleged facts, you
wiU first of all ascertain them to be so." This story, like
most very good stories, has been most probably height
ened, to produce an effect, by the various narrators whose
mouths or books it has passed through; but if true, His
Majesty, after aU, had more sense than the world has
given him credit for. However, it woiUd be a pity that
such a story should be lost; and it wiU. serve as an
admirable pendant to the as AveU-known story of Canute,

358 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
who took as effective but a more striking course to rebuke
his flatterers.
The Society of Antiquaries, established in 1572, met
for many years at the Heralds' CoUege, Doctors' Com
mons, but took up its abode in Somerset House about
the same time as its sister society already mentioned.
Among the original members of the infant society were
Camden, " the nourrice of antiquity," Archbishop Parker,
honest John Stow, and Sfr Robert Cotton. Application
was made to Queen Elizabeth, in 1589, for a charter of
incorporation, but was refused, upon ¦ various pretexts.
James, to whom a similar application was made, also
refused it, and the society became extinct. It was
revived again under happier auspices in 1707; but a
charter was not obtained until 1751. The preamble
to the charter states that, " Whereas the study of anti
quity and the history of former times has ever been
esteemed highly commendable and useful, not only to
improve the minds of men, but to incite them to virtuous
and noble actions, and such as may hereafter render
them famous and worthy examples to posterity; and
whereas several of our loving subjects, who have for
several years past met together for their mutual improve
ment in such studies and inquiries, have humbly besought
us to grant unto them our Royal Charter of incorpor
ation, for the better carrying on of the said purposes,"
&c. The charter then proceeds to set forth the arrange
ment and style of the society, which shall be called " The
Society of the Antiquaries of London, of which we do
hereby declare ourselves to be the founder and patron."

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 359
The first president was Martin Foulkes, and the present
is the Earl of Aberdeen. The proceedings of the society
are annually printed under the title of " Archseologia."
Their library contains many valuable manuscripts, besides
a choice and extensive collection of printed books.
The exhibitions of the Royal Academy of Arts have
been removed from Somerset House, since the erection
of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, where they
are now held.
Opposite to Somerset House are the offices of the
" Morning Chronicle," " Morning Post," " Weekly Chro
nicle," and " Satirist" newspapers.
In a lodging opposite to Somerset House, supposed to
be in the house occupied at present by the " Morning
Chronicle," died the once-celebrated Doctor WilUam
King, author of the "Art of Cookery," and other hu
morous poems. This author, with great natural powers,
had no industry; he loved pleasure, and was careless
of money, and with these various qualities it is not sur
prising, though he had many friends, that he should
have died at last in comparative poverty. He had been
Uving for some months with a friend in Lambeth, when
the Earl of Clarendon, his relative, who had apartments
in Somerset House, hearing of his distress, and that his
health was rapidly failing, took lodgings for him opposfte
to his own windows, that he might render his last days
comfortable. He was the friend of Swift and other
leading poUticians of that party, by whose influence he
was more than once provided with a place, but he never
kept one long, or saved any money while he had one.
He died on Christmas-day,' 1712.

360 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Proceeding down the Strand Ave arrive at the hand
some church of St. Clement Danes. Near this spot for
merly stood the May-pole, aUuded to by Gay, in his
" Trivia," and by Pope in the " Dunciad." OriginaUy
there was a cross at this place,' of which Stow in his
"Survey of London," says, that in. the year 1294, and
previously, the justices itinerant sat to administer justice
without London. In place of this cross a May-pole was
set up, some say by John Clarges, the blacksmith, the
father of the famous Ann Clarges, first Duchess of Albe
marle. It is probable, however, that a May-pole stood
here long before his time, and it is not even sure whether
the one which he erected stood in the Strand or in Drury
Lane. During the austere reign of the Puritans, Avhen theatres
were closed, and every sort of popular amusement was
considered sinful, the May-poles fell into disrepute, and
were pulled down in various parts of London. Among
the rest, the famous May-pole in the Strand came to the
ground. With the restoration of the monarchy, the
people saw the restoration of their ancient sports; and
on the very first May -day after the return of Charles IL,
the May-pole in the Strand was set up again, amid great
popular rejocing. The foUowing account of the ceremony
is taken from a rare tract of the times, entitled "The
Citie's Loyaltie displayed. London, 4to., 1641," and
quoted in the first volume of Hone's " Every-Day Book,"
page 557: —
"Let me declare to you the manner in general," says
the loyal author, " of that stately cedar erected in the
Strand, 134 feet high, commonly caUed the May-pole,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 361
upon the cost of the parishioners there adjacent, and the
gracious consent of His sacred Majesty, with the illus
trious Prince the Duke of York. This tree was a most
choice and remarkable piece ; 'twas made below bridge,
and brought in two parts up to Scotland Yard, near the
King's Palace, and from thence it was conveyed, April
14th, to the Strand, to be erected. It Avas brought with
a streamer flourishing before it, drums beating all the
way, and other sort of musick. It was supposed to be
so long that landsmen, as carpenters, could not possibly
raise it. Prince James, the Duke of York, Lord High
Admiral of England, therefore commanded twelve sea
men to come and officiate the business ; whereupon they
came, and brought their cables, pulleys, and other tack-
Ung, with six great anchors. After these M'ere brought
three crowns, borne by three men bareheaded, and a
streamer displaying aU the way before them, drums beat
ing, and other music playing, numerous multitudes of
people thronging the streets, Avith great shouts and ac
clamations all day long.
" The May-pole then being joined together, and hooped
about with bands of iron, the crown and vane, with the
King's arms, richly gUded, was placed on the head of it ;
a large top, like a balcony, was about the middle of it.
This being done, the trumpets did sound, and in four
hours' space it was advanced upright ; after Avhich being
established fast in the ground, again great shouts and
acclamations did the people give, that rang throughout
aU the Strand. After that came a morris-dance, finely
decked Avith purple scarfs, in their half shirts, Avith a
tabor and pipe, the ancient music, and danced round

362 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE -
about the May-pole, and after that danced the rounds
of their liberty. Upon the top of this famous standard
is likewise set up a royal purple streamer, about the
middle of it are placed four crowns more, with the King's
arms UkeAvise. There is also a garland set upon it, of
various colours, of delicate rich favours, under which are
to be placed three great lanthorns, to remain for three
honours, that is, one for Prince James, duke of York,
Lord High Admiral of England ; the other for the Vice-
Admfral; the third for the Rear-Admiral. These are
to give Ught on dark nights, and to continue so as long
as the pole stands, which wiU be a perpetual honour for
seamen. It ^ is placed as near hand as they coijld guess
in the very same pit where the former stood, but far more
glorious, higher, and bigger than ever any one that stood
before it ; and the seamen themselves do confess that it
could not be built higher, and there is not such an one in
Europe besides, which doth highly please His Majesty
and the iUustrious Prince, Duke of York. Little chil
dren did much rejoice, and ancient people did clap their
hands, saying that golden days began to appear. I
question not but it wUl ring like melodious music through
out every county in England when they read this story
exactly penned. Let this story satisfy for the glories of
London, that other loyal subjects may read what we here
do see."
In the year 1677, a fatal duel was fought under this
May-pole. Early one morning, Mr. Robert Percival,
second son of the Right Honourable Sir Robert Percival,
was found dead under the May-pole, with a deep wound
under his left breast. His sword, drawn and bloody, lay

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 363
beside him. This young man was the most notorious
duelUst of his time ; and although but nineteen years of
age, had fought as many duels as he numbered years.
His antagonist was never discovered, although great
rewards were offered for his apprehension. The only
clue was a hat with a bunch of ribbons in it, suspected
to belong to the celebrated Beau Fielding, but it was
never traced home to him. Sir Philip Percival, the elder
brother of this unhappy youth, made great efforts to dis
cover the murderer; and it is related that he violently
attacked a gentleman in the streets of Dublin, whom he
accidentally met, whose name he did not know, and whom
he had never seen before, declaring that he had kiUed his
brother. They were parted by the spectators, and Sir
Philip could only account for his conduct by saying, that
as soon as he saw the gentleman, he was convinced that
he was concerned in the death of his brother, though why
such a belief had taken possession of him he could not
teU. The May-pole, having long been in a state of decay, was
pulled down in 1713, and a new one, with two gUt balls
and a vane on the top of it, was erected in its stead.
This did not continue long in existence; for, being in
1718 judged an obstruction to the view of the church
then building, orders were given by the parochial authori
ties for its removal. Sir Isaac Newton begged it of the
parish, and it was conveyed to Wanstead Park, where it
long supported the largest telescope in Europe, belonging
to Sir Isaac Newton's friend, Mr. Pound, the rector of
Wanstead. It was 125 feet long; and presented to Mr.

q64 an ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE

o

Pound by Mr. Huson, a French member of the Royal
Society. The church of St. Mary-le-Strand, built by Gibbs, the
architect of St. Martin's in the Fields, is one of the fifty
ordered to be built in the reign of Queen Anne. The old
church of the same name stood considerably more to the
south, and was pulled down by the Protector Somerset to
make room for his new palace. The parish was without
a church in consequence, from the reign of Edward VI.
to that of Queen Anne. The first stone was laid by Mr.
Gibbs, on the 25th of February, 1714, and the edifice was
completed in three years and a half It was not, how
ever, consecrated until the 1st of January, 1723.
Architectural critics do not admire this church. Gwynn
says, that it is " expensive and rich without the least ap
pearance of grandeur ;" that " it is divided into too many
parts ;" and that " the steeple is a confused jumble of rich
parts piled one above another, without any regard to the
shape of the Avhole ; and has this additional fault, that it
appears to stand upon the roof of the church." Ralph
in his " Critical Review of Public Buildings," says, that
this church "is one of the strongest instances in the
Avorld that it is not expense and decoration that are
alone productive of harmony and taste. The architect
appears to have set down with a resolution of making it
as fine as possible, and, with this view, has crowded every
inch of space about it with ornament ; nay, he has even
carried this humour so far that it appears nothing but a
cluster of ornaments, without the proper vacuity to
relieve the eye, and give a necessary contrast to the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 365
Avhole. The steeple is liable to as many objections as
the church. It is abundantly too high, and in the profile
loses aU kind of proportion, both wfth regard to itself
and the structure it belongs to. In short, this church
wiU always please the ignorant for the same reasons that
it is sure to displease the judge."
Another critic, Mr. Malton, in his picturesque " Tour
through London and Westminster," is more indulgent.
He says, it has a pleasing and picturesque appearance,
and that it has been more censured than it merits. The
architect himself gives the foUowing explanation of the
disproportionate height of the steeple, and of other
matters : — " The new church in the Strand," says he,
" caUed St. Mary-le-Strand, was the first building I Avas
-employed in after my arrival from Italy, which being
situated in a very public place, the Commissioners for
buUding the fifty churches, of which this is one, spared
no cost to beautify it. It consists of two orders, in the
upper of which the lights are placed; the wall of the
lower being solid to keep out noises from the street, is
adorned with niches. There was at first no steeple
designed for this church, only a small campanile or
turret, for a bell was to have been over the west end of
it; but at the distance of eighty feet from the Avest front
there was a column 250 feet high, intended to be erected
in honour of Queen Anne, on the top of Avhich her statue
was to be placed. My design for this column was ap
proved by the Commissioners, and a great quantity of
stone was brought to the place for laying the foundation
of it ; but the thoughts of erecting that monument being
laid aside upon the queen's death, I was ordered to erect

366 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
a steeple, instead of the campanile first proposed. The
building being then advanced twenty feet above ground,
and therefore admitting of no alteration from east to
west, I was obliged to spread it from north to south,
which makes the plan oblong, which should otherwise
have been square." But after aU, says Leigh Hunt in
the " London Journal," " he need not have made the
steeple so high; but what was to be done with the
stones'? This, in the mouth of parish virtu, was a
triumphant reply."
A serious accident, by which three Uves were lost,
happened at this church on the proclamation of peace in
1802. Just as the heralds came abreast of this place, a
man on the roof of the church at the eastern end leaned
too forcibly upon one of the stone urns, which ornament
the stone raiUng that runs around the roof The stone
gave way, and the street below being crowded Avith
people, three young men were kUled by its faU. The
one was struck upon the head, and kUled on the spot ;
the second so much wounded that he died on his way to
the hospital; and the third died two days afterwards.
A young woman was seriously injured, and several others
were more or less hurt. The urn, which weighed about
two hundred pounds, struck against the cornice of the
church in its descent, and carried part of it away. Such
was the force of the fall, that the urn broke through a
large flag-stone of the pavement below, and buried itself
upwards of a foot in the ground. The man who had
accidentally done aU the mischief feU back on the roof
and fainted away, in which state he was found by the
persons who came to take him into custody. It appeared

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 367
that no blame was attributable to him, and he was dis
charged. The urn stood upon a socket, but instead of
being secured by a strong iron spike running up the
the centre, there was nothing but a wooden one, which
was entirely decayed, and broke off by the pressure of the
man's hand, as he Avas leaning forward to obtain a better
view of the proceedings below.
The space to the west of St. Mary-le-Strand is thought
to have been the first coach-stand in London. Coaches
were first introduced into England from Hungary, in
1580, by FitzaUan, earl of Arundel; but it was not until
nearly, if not more than half a century afterwards, that
the luxury of riding in this manner descended to the
people. ' In the year 1634, Captain BaUy, who accom
panied Sir Walter Raleigh in his famous expedition to
Guiana, employed four hackney-coaches, with drivers in
Uveries, to ply at the May-pole, in the Strand, fixing his
own rates. It is not very clear, however, that Captain
BaUy was the first who carried on this speculation in
London, though his name is the earUest mentioned. In
Hone's "Every Day Book," vol. I., p. 1300, ft is men
tioned that, in the year 1613, Stourbridge Fair had
acquired such celebrity, that hackney-coaches attended it
from London; and that subsequently not less than sixty
coaches pUed at this fair, which was then the largest in
England. In 1625, the number of coaches for the whole city
amounted only to twenty. In the course of about thirty
years the number of hackney-coaches in London had so
prodigiously increased, that it was thought necessary to
issue the foUowing royal proclamation : —

368 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
"By the King.
"A PROCLAMATION
" To restrain the abuses of Hackney Coaches in the Cities of London
and Westminster, and the Suburbs thereof.
"CHARLES R.
" Whereas the excessive number of hackney coaches, and coach
horses, in and about the Cities of London and Westminster, and
the Suburbs thereof, are found to be a common nuisance, to the
publique dammage of Our people, by reason of their rude and dis
orderly standing, and passing to and fro, in and about our said
Cities and Suburbs, the streets and highways being thereof pestered
and made unpassable, the pavements broken up, and the common
passages obstructed and become dangerous, Our peace violated, and
sundry other mischiefs and evils occasioned : —
" We, taking into Our Princely consideration these apparent incon
veniences, and resolving that a speedy remedy be applyed to meet
with and redress them for the future, do by and with the advice of
Our Privy Counsel, publish Our Royal will and pleasure to be, and
we do by this Our Proclamation e:spressly charge and command,
That no person or persons, of what estate, degree, or quality what
soever, keeping or using any hackney coache.s, or coach horses, do,
from and after the first day of November next, permit or sufl'er
the said coaches and horses, or any of them, to stand, or remain, in
any of the streets or passages in or about Our said Cities, either of
London or Westminster, or the Suburbs belonging to either of
them, to be there hired; but that they and every of them keep
their said coaches and horses within their respective coach-houses,
stables, and yards, (whither such persons as desire to hire the same
may resort for that purpose,) upon pain of Our high displeasure,
and such forfeitures, pains, and penalties, as may be inflicted for
the contempt of Our Royal commands in the premises, whereof we
shall expect a strict accompt.
" And for the due execution of Our pleasure herein, We do fur
ther charge and command the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of Our
City of London, That they in their several wards, and Our Justices
of Peace within Our said Cities of London and Westminster, and
the Liberties and Suburbs thereof; and all other Our Officers and
Ministers of Justice, to whom it appertaiueth, do take especial care
in their respective limits, that this Our command be duly observed.
And that they from time to time return the nanies of all those who

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 369
shall wilfully offend in the premises, to Our Privy Council, and to
the end that they may be proceeded against by indictments and pre
sentments, for the nuisance and otherwise, according to the severity
of the law, and demerits of the offenders.
" Given at Our Court at Whitehall, the eighteenth day of Oc
tober, in the twelfth year of our reign.
" God save the King.
"London: printed by John Bill and Christopher Barker, printers
to the King's most Excellent Majesty. 1C66."
Under the date of 1667, the foUoAving, with relation
to hackney-coaches, appears in Pepys's ''^Diary :" " N ay,
and he (Evelyn) teUs me he met my Lord Oxford and
the Duke of Monmouth in a hackney-coach with tAvo
footmen in the Park, with their robes on; Avhich is a
most scandalous thing, so as all gravity may be said to
be lost amongst us."
To the southward of St. Mary-le-Strand, and paraUel
Avith the main street of the Strand, to the south of it,
runs the ancient thoroughfare of HolyAvell Street, the
resort of Jew clothes-dealers, and a rather dangerous
street for quietly-disposed people of shabby gentility to
pass through. It appears to have received its name
from one of the numerous springs in this district, and
which are described by Fitzstephen in his account of
London, and translated by Stow, as " sweete, wholesome,
and cleere, and much frequented by schoUers and youth
of the citie in summer evenings, when they walk forth to
take the aire." Various other springs about London
appear to have received at times the same name of Holy
well, and, among others, may be mentioned HolyAvell,
near Bishopsgate Street, and the more famous spring at
Sadler's WeUs, which, as may be seen in Strutt's inter-
VOL. I. 2 b

370 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
esting volume on the "Sports and Pastimes of the People
of England," went by this name about the time of the
Restoration. Before turning down into the various memorable
streets branching from the south of the Strand, and-
leading downwards to the Thames, we shaU proceed
eastward, as far as the church of St. Clement's Danes,
passing, in om- way, the office of the " Observer" and
" BeU's Life in London," formerly the office of the
" Morning Chronicle," when under the management of
Mr. Perry. How different is the Strand now, to what
it was when Gay wrote —
" Where the fair columns of St. Clement stand.
Whose straitened bounds encroach upon the Strand;
Where the low penthouse bows the walker's head.
And the rough pavement wounds the yielding tread ;
Where not a post protects the narrow space.
And, strung in twines, combs dangle in thy face ;
Summon at once thy courage, rouse thy care.
Stand firm, look back, be resolute, beware !
Forth issuing from steep lanes, the collier's steeds
Drag the black load ; another cart succeeds ;
Team follows team, crowds heaped on crowds appear.
And wait impatient till the road grows clear.''
The church, it is true, still encroaches too much upon
the highway, and the coal-merchant's steeds yet draw
the black load up steep Milford Lane ; but the dangling
combs have disappeared, and there is no necessity for
such excessive caution as was then recommended.
The name of this church has given rise to much
learned research and angry controversy. According to
WiUiam of Malmesbury, the Danes burned down the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 371
church that stood on this spot when the country was
infested by those invaders. "Desirous at length to
return to Denmark," says this old historian, " they were
about to embark, when they were, by the judgment of
God, aU slain at London, in a place which has since been
caUed the church of the Danes." In the account given
by Mr. Recorder Fleetwood to Lord Burleigh, who Uved
in the parish, it is stated that when the Danes were
driven out of England, a few who were married to
English women were aUowed to remain, upon condition
that they should reside between Ludgate and Thorney
Island, Westminster. Here they erected a church, which
was caUed "Ecclesia dementis Danorum." Mr. Moser,
in his " Vestiges," is of opinion that the church was first
dedicated to St. Clement in the reign of Richard I., to
compUment Clement HI.*, who then fiUed the papal chair.
This, however, must be erroneous, as Fitzstephen, who
-wrote in the reign of Richard's father, speaks of the weU
adjoining, as St. Clement's weU. It appears certain,
however, that a church has stood on this site for upwards
of eight hundred years. The present edifice was rebuilt
in the year 1680 by Edward Pierce, under the direction
of Sfr Christopher Wren, as we learn from the foUowing
inscription on a marble stone on the north side of the
chancel : — " To the Glory of God
and for the solemn worship of his holy name. This old
church being greatly decayed, was taken down in the
year 1680, and rebuift and finished in the year 1682 by
the pious assistance of the Rev. Dr. Gregory Hascara,
rector, and the bountiful contributions of the inhabftants
2 B 2

372 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
of this parish, and some other noble benefactors. Sir
Christopher Wren, his Majesty's surveyor, freely and
generously bestowing his great care and skill towards
the contriving and building of it ; Avhich good work Avas
all along greatly promoted and encouraged by the zeal
and diligence of the vestry."
St. Clement's Church was the one most frequented by
Dr. Johnson. Sir John Falstaff and Justice Shallow, as
the readers of Shakspeare will remember, make especial
mention of the chimes, and Shallow studied the law in
the neighbouring inn of the same name.
Shallow. — •" Oh, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night
in the windmill in St. George's Fields.
Fals. — " No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of
that. Shal. — " Hah, it was a merry night. And is Jane Nightwcirk
alive ?
Fals. — " She lives. Master Shallow.
Shal. — "She never could away with mo.
Fals. — " Never, never : she would always say she could not
abide Master Shallow.
Shal. — " By the mass I could anger her to the heart. She was
then a bonaroba. Doth she hold her own well ? — and had Robin
Nightwork by old Nightwork, before I came to Clement's Inn.
Silence. — " That's fifty-five years ago.
Shal. — " Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this
knight and I have seen! Ah, Sir John, said I well?
Fal. — "We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shal
low. Slud. — " That we have, that we have, that we have ; in faith,
Sir John, we have; our watchword was Hem, boys! Come, let's to
dinner; come, let's to dinner: O, the days that we have seen!
Come, come."
The street has not mightily improved in its morals
since Shakspeare Avrote. St. Clement's is one of the very

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 373
few churches that still keeps up the old practice of the
chimes. Hentzner, in his " Travels," speaking of the bells
of London, says, page 89, " They (the English) are vastly
fond of great noises, such as the firing of cannon, drums,
and the ringing of beUs, so that it is common for a number
of them, that have got a glass in their heads, to go up
into some belfrey and ring the bells for hours together."
The Londoners still encourage the same practice, to the
great annoyance sometimes of quiet people.
To the left of us are three inns of the law — dark,
dingy, dirty, desolate-looking places, which almost make
one melancholy to go into them, and conjure up visions
of bankruptcy, distress, starvation, and legal plunder,
which it is difficult to repress. The Temple itself the
parent of them all, is gloomy enough, but there is an air
of elegance, substantiality, and honourable antiquity
about that, which is sadly wanting here. To call them
antique woiUd be to flatter them: they are frail, and
squalid, and crazy to a degree ; the bricks of each deso
late house are black with age; the window-panes an inch
thick with the dust of neglect ; the stairs worn hoUoAV by
the repeated tread of clerks and clients, and as black as
the waUs without ; whUe the passages and banisters are
greasy with the marks of unclean fingers.
The first is Clement's, and is an Inn of Chancery.
" It has been conjectured," says Mr. Moser, in his " Ves
tiges," " that near this spot stood an inn as far back as
the time of King Ethelred, for the reception of the pil
grims who came to Clement's WeU ; that a religious house
was in process of time estabUshed, and that the church
arose in consequence. Be this as it may, the holy

374 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
brotherhood was probably removed to some other situa
tion. The ' Holy Lamb,' an inn on the west side of the
lane, received the guests; and the monastery was con
verted, or rather perverted, from the purposes of the
gospel to those of the law."
In the garden of Clement's Inn is to be seen the figm-e
of a naked negro, supporting a sun-dial. It was pre
sented to the society by the ground-landlord, HoUes,
lord Clare, and was once thought a great ornament.
PubUc opinion, however, is not now so favourable to it.
The foUowing epigram, aUuding to the lawyers around,
is said to have been stuck upon it : —
" In vain, poor sable son of woe,
Thou seek'st the tender tear;
For thee in vain with pangs they fiow ;
For mercy dwells not here.
From cannibals thou fled'st in vain ;
Lawyers less quarter give ;
The first won't eat you tiU you're slain.
The last will do't alive."
The next inn to be noticed is New Inn, which may
boast of having educated the great Sir Thomas More,
who here studied the law previously to his removal to
Lincoln's Inn, of which he afterwards became a member.
This inn, before it was appropriated to the lawyers, was
a common hostefry, known by the sign of the " Blessed
Virgin." It was procured, in 1485, from Sir John
Finerx, some time chief justice of the King's Bench, for
61. per annum. It is now an Inn of Chancery, and the
only one belonging to the Middle Temple.
Lyon's Inn, the third to be noticed, is an appendage
to the Inner Temple, and is the dirtiest and gloomiest-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 375
looking of the three. It is an inn of considerable anti-
qmty, entries having been made in the stewards' books
as early as the time of Henry V.
On the same, or northern side of the Strand, a little
further towards Temple Bar, and immediately beyond
St. Clement's Church, is a row of houses named Pickett
Street. This was formerly called Butcher Row, which,
in 1790, is described by Mr. Malcolm in his "Londinium
Redivivum" as a dirty place, composed of wretched fabrics
and narrow passages, undeserving of the name of streets.
The houses overhung their foundations, the receptacles of
dirt and disease, and the bane of London. Alderman
Pickett projected improvement, by which aU these houses
were removed, and the new street buUt upon their site
was appropriately named after him. While this improve
ment was in progress in 1802, the workmen who were
constructing the sewers to the eastward of St. Clement's
Church, discovered an ancient stone bridge of one arch,
about eleven feet in length. "It was covered," says
Mr. Malcolm, in his work just quoted, " several feet in
depth by rubbish and soU, and found to be of great
strength in the construction. A doubt arises whether
this was the ' Pons Novi Templi,' or Bridge of the New
Temple, passed by the lords and others who attended
ParUament at Westminster, after going out of the city to
this place by water, which, wanting repair, Edward III.
caUed upon the Knights Templars to effect, or an arch
turned over a guUy or ditch, when the road, now the
street termed the Strand, was a continued scene of filth."
Clifton's eating-house in Butcher Row was the resort
of Dr. Johnson, as we learn from the minute BosweU.

376 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
" Happening to dine," says the Laird of Auchinleck, " at
' Clifton's Eating House' in Butcher Row, I was surprised
to see Johnson come in and take his seat at another table.
The mode of dining, or rather being fed, at such houses
in London, is Avell known to many to be peciUiarly un
social, as there is no ordinary or united company, but
each person has his OAvn mess, and is under no obligation
to hold any intercourse Avith any one. A liberal and
full-minded man, however, who loves to talk, wUl break
through this churlish and unsocial restraint. Johnson
and an Irish gentleman got into a dispute concerning
the cause of some part of mankind being black. ' Why,
sir, (said Johnson,) it has been accounted for in three
ways : either by supposing that they are the posterity of
Ham, who was cursed; or that God at first created two
kinds of men, one black and another white ; or that by
the heat of the sun the skin is scorched, and so acquires
a sooty hue. This matter has been much canvassed
among naturalists, but has never been brought to any
certain issue.' What the Irishman said, is totally ob
literated from my mind ; but I remember that he became
very warm and intemperate in his expressions, upon
which Johnson rose, and quietly walked away. When
he had retired, his antagonist took his revenge, as he
thought, by saying, ' He has a most ungainly figure, and
an affectation of pomposity unworthy of a man of
genius.' "
It was in returning from an eating-house or tavern in
Butcher Row that Nathaniel Lee, commonly known as
the mad poet, met his death. He was going to his
lodgings in Duke Street from the " Bear and Harrow,"

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 377
when, having taken too much wine, he stumbled and was
stifled in the snow. This man's madness was chiefly, if
not entirely, brought on by his beastly intemperance;
and he was long confined in Bedlam, Avhere he wrote a
play in twenty-five acts. He was only in his thirty-
fifth year Avhen he died in this melancholy manner,
and he was buried in the neighbouring churchyard of
St. Clement's.
Mr. Moser, who attentively Avatched the demoUtion of
the ancient buUdings at Butcher Row, gives the foUoAving
account of it in his " Vestiges." — " The stack of houses
Avhich lately occupied the spot Avhich now forms a wide
opening on the west side of Temple Bar, Avas, Avith
respect to the ground-plan, in the form of an obtuse
ang-ular triangle, the eastern line of AA'hich Avas formed
by a shoemaker's, a fishmonger's, and another shop, with
wide-extended fronts, and its western point blunted by
the intersection of the vestry-room and alms'-houses of
St. Clement's parish ; both the sides also contained shops
of various descriptions : the south (Strand), a number of
respectable tradesmen, such as bakers, dyers, drysalters,
smiths, tin-plate workers, &c. : the north. Butcher Row,
was, as its name implied, really a flesh-market. It was
at first whoUy occupied by butchers, who had from a
very early period brought their meat in carts from the
country, and sold it just without the civic liberties for
the supply of the western parts of the city. These
foreign butchers, as they were termed, were considered
so extremely useful in repressing the exorbitant demands
of the native butchers, and lowering the prices of the
London markets of those days, that the competition Avas

378 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
encouraged, and their dealings attended with such success,
that I fear the desire of immoderate profit operated
upon them as it has upon their descendants in the
present age, and induced them to become stationary;
perhaps to go hand-in-hand with the people they had
formerly opposed. Be this as it may, in the reign of
Queen Elizabeth, Butcher Row, which had, for the pur
pose I have specified, (the convenience of foreign butch
ers,) been in the twenty-first year of Edward I. granted
to Walter le Barbut, took the form of an established
market. In process of time other shops besides butchers,
fishmongers, and greengrocers, were opened. Many, I
presume, can remember a scalemaker's, tinman's, fine-
drawer's, ' Betty's Chop House,' cheesemonger's, grocer's,
&c. The houses of the whole stack were originaUy of
wood, one story overhanging the other; and indeed the
style of buUding, ornaments, &c., strongly indicated the
date of its erection."
Through the gateway in Pickett Street are Shire Lane
and New Court, the latter weU known for an Independent
Meeting-house, where the celebrated Daniel Burgess used
to hold forth in the days of the Revolution and Restora
tion. Of Daniel many stories have been told, of the
same texture as those which are now circulated with
regard to Whitfield, Rowland HiU, and others. To
him is attributed a facetious sermon upon the text taken
from Job, in which he speaks of " a robe of righteousness."
" If" said the preacher, " any of you would have a suit
for a twelvemonth, let him repair to Monmouth Street;
if for his lifetime, let him apply to the Court of Chan
cery ; and if for aU eternity, let him put on the robe of

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 379
righteousness." His chapel was burnt by the mob during
the riots in Sacheverel's time. Bradbury and Winter,
almost as celebrated in their day as Burgess was in his,
were successors at his chapel.
Returning again to the Strand, we must retrace our
steps westward, and notice the various streets leading
down to the river, of which the names are Surrey Street,
Arundel Street, NorfoUi Street, Essex Street, MUford
Lane ; and Howard Street, which intersects them, running
for a short distance paraUel with the Thames and the
Strand. To the eastward of Somerset House, where the various
streets just mentioned are situated, stood Bath's Inn, or,
as it was sometimes called, Hampton Place, the town
residence of the Bishop of Bath and WeUs. During the
time of Edward VL, when the Seymours were all-power
ful in England, this palace was taken possession of by
one of the famUy, the Lord Thomas Seymour, High
Admfral, from whom it received the name of Seymour
Place. This ambitious nobleman married Henry VIII.'s
widow, Catherine Parr, and she dying in childbed, he
made advances to the Princess Elizabeth, then in her
1 6th year. " The latter," says Hume, " whom even the
hurry of business and the pursuits of ambition could
not, in her more advanced years, disengage entirely
from the tender passions, seems to have listened to the
insinuations of this man, who possessed every talent
proper to captivate the affections of the fair." The
Princess EUzabeth had Uved for some months in this
house, under his protection and that of her mother-
in-law, Catherine Parr, and the enemies of Lord Sey-

380 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
mour accused him of a design upon the hand of the
Princess long before his own wife's death. It appears,
indeed, from Burleigh's "State Papers," that the hand
some and intriguing nobleman was fond of romping with
this young girl in his wife's absence, and that EUzabeth
Avas far from displeased at his attentions. He used to
go to her bedroom before she was up, and when she
heard him coming, " she ran out of her bed to her
maidens, and then went behind the curtains of her bed."
At Hanworth also he romped with her in the garden, and
cut her goAvn in a hundred pieces. It was also noticed
of Elizabeth, that she always blushed modestly whenever
the Lord Thomas was spoken of But Elizabeth's con
sent to their marriage was not sufficient; for Henry VIII.
had excluded his daughters from the succession, if they
married without the consent of his executors. This
Lord Seymour could not hope to obtain, and his ambition
leading him to more violent measures, he finally perished
on the scaffold, as is weU knoAvn to all the readers of
English history. His death seems to have been as
unquiet as his life, for " he dyed," to use the words of
Bishop Latimer, "very daungerouslye, yrksomelye, and
horriblye." After his death, the house became the property of the
HoAvards, Earls of Arundel, and took the name of
Arundel Palace. In this house, it appears from the
parish register of Chelsea, extracted by Mr. Lyson, in his
" Environs of London," died, on the 25th of February,
1603, the Countess of Nottingham, who was buried at
Chelsea three days afterwards. Her death brings to
recollection another romantic story of Queen Elizabeth,

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 381
for this Avas the lady who Avithheld from the Queen the
ring she had given to her unhappy favourite, Essex.
The foUowing is the story as related by Dr. Bird, and
inserted in the " Memoirs of the Peers of England during
O to
the reign of James I." The Countess was related by
marriage to the Howard famUy, which accounts for her
dying in their palace : —
"The foUowing curious story," says the compiler,
" was frequently told by Lady Elizabeth Spelman, great
grand-daughter of Sir Robert Cary, brother of Lady
Nottingham, and afterwards Earl of Monmouth, whose
curious memoirs of himself were published a few years
ago by Lord Corke : — ' When Catherine, Countess of
Nottingham, was dying (as she did according to his lord
ship's OAvn account, about a fortnight before Queen Eliza
beth), she sent to her Majesty to desire that she might
see her, in order to reveal something to her Majesty,
without the discovery of which, she could not die in
peace. Upon the queen's coming. Lady Nottingham
told her, that, AvhUe the Earl of Essex lay under sentence
of death, he was desirous of asking her Majesty's mercy,
in the manner prescribed by herself during the height of
his favour; the queen having given him a ring, which
being sent to her as a token of his distress, might entitle
him to her protection. But the Eari, jealous of those
about him, and not caring to trust any of them with it,
as he was looking out of his window one morning, saw a
boy, with whose appearance he was pleased ; and en-
casino' him by money and promises, directed him to
carry the ring, which he took from his finger and threw
down, to Lady Scroope, a sister of the Countess of Not-

382 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
tingham, and a friend of his lordship, who attended upon
he queen, and to beg of her that she would present it
to her Majesty. The boy, by mistake, carried it to Lady
Nottingham, who showed it to her husband, the admiral,
an enemy of Lord Essex, in order to take his advice.
The admiral forbid her to carry it, or return any answer
to the message ; but insisted upon her keeping the ring.
The Countess of Nottingham having made this discovery,
begged the queen's forgiveness; but her Majesty answered,
' God may forgive you, but I never can!' and left the room
with great emotion. Her mind was so struck with the
story, that she never went into bed, nor took any suste
nance from that instant, for Camden is of opinion, that
her chief reason for suffering the Earl to be executed,
was his supposed obstinacy in not applying to her for
mercy.'" In this house lodged the Duke de Sully, then Marquis
of Rosny, when he was sent over ambassador from Henry
IV. to James I. The polite Sully, who was somewhat
neglected by the master of the ceremonies on his first
arrival, was too well bred to complain, and with a philo
sophy which did him credit, appeared determined to
make the best of everything. He describes the house in
his " Memoirs," as one of the finest and most commo
dious of any in London, from the great number of apart
ments on the same floor ; but the prints of it represent
it as a rather mean and low building, commanding, how
ever, a very fine view of the river and Westminster.
" To any one," says Dr. Hughson, in a note to Moser's
account of Butcher's Row, " who remembers the strtic-
ture of these old houses, it will appear difficult to con-

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 383
ceive how the ambassador and representative of Henry
IV. could, in those days of state and splendour, be, even
for a short period, accommodated in this place. Its
interior (for I witnessed its demolition,) consisted of
smaU, incommodious rooms, four, nay six or eight upon a
floor; a well-staircase running up the middle in the
rudest style, lighted by a skylight which only diffused a
darkness visible over the upper stories, while the lower
were, as Dr. Johnson says, totaUy abumbrated. The
ceUings were low, traversed by large un wrought beams
in different directions, and lighted, if that phrase could
with propriety be applied, by smaU casement-windows;
yet here we find that Gallic complaisance induced the
Marquis to reside without murmuring." There seems to
be some mistake here, for the princely Lord Seymour of
Sudeley, when his brother the Duke was building so fine
a house next door to him, would never have been content
with an edifice such as this description would lead us to
beUeve it was ; neither would James I., whose desire it
was to treat SuUy with the greatest respect and consi
deration, have lodged him in a mean buUding. The fact
is, that this description applies to a house in Butcher
Row, occupied by Count Beaumont, the French ambassa
dor, where SuUy slept for one night only, and not to Arun
del Palace, which stood on the opposite side of the way,
further doAvn towards the river, and was demoUshed long
before the time either of Dr. Hughson or Mr. Moser.
It was not in a house with such low miserable rooms
that a few years after Sully's time the magnificent Tho
mas Howard, earl of Arundel, would have resided, or
where he would have placed his fine coUection of mar-

384 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
bles, some of which are still to be seen at Oxford, and
bear his name. Clarendon, who was no friend of the
Earl, thus describes the house and its owner : —
" The Earl," says he, " seemed to live, as it were, in
another nation, his house being a place to which all
people resorted, who resorted to no other place ; strangers,
or such as affected to look like strangers, and dressed
themselves accordingly. He was willing to be thought a
scholar, and to understand the most mysterious parts of
antiquity, because he made a wonderful and costly pur
chase of excellent statues whilst in Italy and in Rome,
(some whereof he could never obtain permission to re
move out of Rome, though he had paid for them,) and
had a rare collection of medals. As to all parts of
learning, he Avas almost illiterate, and thought no other
part of history so considerable as Avhat related to his
own family, in which, no doubt, there had been some
very memorable persons. It cannot be denied that he
had in his own person, in his aspect,, and countenance,
the appearance of a great man, which he preserved in his
gait and motion. He wore and affected a habit very
different from that of the time, such as men had only
beheld in 'pictures of the most considerable men : all
Avhich drew the eyes of most, and the reverence of many,
towards him, as the image and representative of the
ancient nobility, and native gravity of the nobles, Avlien
they had been most venerable; but this was only his
outside, his nature and true humour being much disposed
to levity and delights, which indeed Avere very despicable
and childish."
Arundel House, after the great fire of 1666, became.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 385
as Ave have already mentioned, the temporary lodging
of the Royal Society, Avhither they were invited by the
then owner, the Duke of Norfolk, into whose possession
it had come by succession. It was inhabited by that
family, and called Norfolk Plouse, till near the close of
the seventeenth century, when it was pulled doAvn, and
the site laid out into Norfolk, Howard, Surrey, and Arundel
Streets. It Avas originaUy intended to build a more
magnificent house for the Duke of Norfolk upon the spot,
or, at least, upon the part of the* property adjoining the
river; but, although an Act of Parliament for the pur
pose Avas applied for, and obtained, the design was
abandoned. In the Strand, between Arundel and Norfolk Streets,
in the year 1698, Uved Sir Thomas Lyttleton, speaker of
the Plouse of Commons. Next door to him, lived the
father of Bishop Burnet. " This house," says Dr. Plugh-
son, writing iu 1810, "continued in the Burnet family
tUl within memory, being possessed by a bookseller of the
same name, — a coUateral descendant from the bishop."
At the south-west corner of Norfolk Street, the cele
brated Quaker Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, had
' lodgings ; and in the same street, Dr. Brocklesby, the
physician, the friend of Burke and Dr. Johnson, resided
for more than thirty years. In Norfolk Street, also,
lived Mountford, the player; and in Howard Street, the
once popular and engaging Mrs. Bracegirdle. The street
opposfte her house was the scene of a melancholy event,
of which her beauty, acting upon another's madness, was
the principal cause. Mrs. Bracegirdle was one of the
most fascinating women of her age, and half the fashion-
VOL. I. ^ ^

386 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
able young men of that day were, or pretended to be, in
love with her. Congreve says, it was a kind of fashion
among them to avow a tenderness for her. Rowe, in an
" Imitation of Horace," book 2, ode 4, addressed to the
Earl of Scarsdale, aUudes to the passion for her, which
that nobleman took no pains to conceal, and in a tone
of banter advises him to marry her, (although he had a
wife living,) and set the town at defiance.
Among others who were smitten with her charms was
a half-cracked feUow, of the name of HUl, a captain in
the army, a nian about town, a drunkard, and companion
of buUies and profligates. One of her favourite parts
was Statira, in which she always gained much applause ;
and her lover, Alexander, was performed by her friend
and neighbour Mountford, who was generaUy as much
applauded in his part, as she was in hers. In Alexander,
as performed by Mountford, were to be seen, says Cibber,
" the great, the tender, the penitent, the despairing, the
transported, and the amiable, in the highest perfection;
and if anything could excuse that desperate extravagance
of love, that almost frantic passion, it was the Statfra of
Mrs. Bracegirdle." This Captain HiU, whom Leigh Hunt
calls "a dark-souled fellow in the pit," imagined that
this fictitious love was real; and having made proposals
to the lady, which she had rejected on account of his bad
character, he nourished the fiercest jealousy agamst
Mountford, whom he supposed to be his rival, and
swore, with many bitter oaths, that he would be revenged
upon him. One night, when this play had been per
formed, the mimic passion of the pair so penetrated his

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 387
soul that he could not rest, and he resolved to carry off
the lady.
The infamous dueUist, Lord Mohun, of whom we have
already spoken, in our account of Gerrard Street, Soho,
to whom he communicated his design, agreed to assist
him in it. Upon the night appointed, they dined to
gether; and, having changed clothes, went to Drury
Lane Theatre at six o'clock, where the desperate lover
expected to feast his eyes upon the beauty of Mrs.
Bracegfrdle. It appears, however, that she was not to
perform that night ; so, taking a coach, they drove to her
lodgings, in Howard Street. Here they found that she
had gone out to supper, to the house of a Mr. Page, in
Princes Street, Drury Lane. Thither, accordingly, they
drove, without loss of time, and waited patiently tiU she
came out. She appeared, at last, at the street door, with
her mother and brother, Mr. Page Ughting them out.
HiU immediately seized her, and endeavoured, with the
aid of some ruffians whom he had hfred for the purpose,
to place her in the coach, where Lord Mohun sat, with
a loaded pistol in each hand. Old Mrs. Bracegirdle
screamed, and threw her arms around her daughter's
waist ; her brother and Mr. Page rushed to the rescue ;
and a crowd assembling, HiU was forced to let go his
hold, and decamp as fast as he was able. Mrs. Brace
girdle and her friends then proceeded to her lodgings in
Howard Street, Captain HiU and Lord Mohun foUowing
shortly afterwards on foot ; they knocked at the door with
the intention, ft is said, of begging pardon of Mrs.
Bracegfrdle for the outrage upon her; but the people
inside refused to open ft ; upon which, HiU and Mohun,
2 c 2

388 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
half mad with drink, sent to a neighbouring tavern for a
bottle of wine, which they drank in the street, and then
began to perambulate before the door, with drawn swords
in their hands. Mrs. Brown, the landlady of the house,
being greatly alarmed, sent out to knoAV what they meant
by such conduct, Avhen they said, they were waiting for
Mountford, the actor, and whenever they met with him
they would have revenge. Messengers were immediately
despatched to Mountford's house close by ; and he not
being at home, his wife in great alarm sent to all his
usual places of resort, Avarning him of the danger ; but,
unfortunately for him, he was not to be found. The
watch were also sent for, and questioned PIUl and Lord
Moliim, and begged them to depart peaceably. The
watch, it is to be supposed, were discreet men, and did
not like to get into a fight with two such desperate look
ing buUies, so they spoke them fair, and learned from
Lord Mohun, who Avas very civil, that "he was a peer of
the realm ; that he had been drinking a bottle of wine ;
but that he was ready to put up his sword, if they par
ticularly desired it." The watch, with proper respect to
this " peer of the realm," asked if his friend would not
put up his sword also; but Mohun replied, that his
friend could not do so, as he had lost the scabbard of it.
The watchmen, still prudent and cautious with such
dangerous customers, — peers both of them, for aU they
knew, — went to the tavern Avhere the wine had been pro
cured, to make further inquiries about them, leaving the
bullies to themselves. In the meantime, the unhappy
Mountford, suspecting no evil, passed down the street, on
his way home; and Mrs. Brown, the landlady, who had

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 389
been anxiously waiting all the while at her windoAv,
rushed out to warn him of his, danger. Not understand
ing her, he contiuued his course down the street, and
coming up with the buUies, the following conversation
took place, according to the testimony of a female servant
who lived next door, and who heard the whole pro
ceedings. Lord Mohun spoke first, and embracing Mr. Mount
ford, said, " Mr. Mountford, your humble servant : I am
glad to see you."
"Who is this ?— Lord Mohun?" said Mountford.
" Yes it is," said his lordship.
"What brings your lordship here at this time of
night 1" ¦
Lord Mohun answered the query by another, and said,
"I suppose you were sent for, Mr. Mountford V
" No indeed," replied he, " I came by chance."
" Plave you not heard of the business of Mrs. Brace
girdle 1"
" Pray, my lord," said HUl, breaking sUence for the
first time, "hold your tongue. This is not a convenient
time to discuss this business."
The servant, who repeated this conversation at the
trial, added to this, that Hill seemed desirous to go away,
and puUed Lord Mohun as if he were anxious to proceed
no further ; but that Mountford, taking no notice of HiU,
continued his conversation with Lord Mohun, and said
he was sorry to see him assisting Captain Hill in such an
evil action as that, and desiring him to forbear.
Hill immediately struck him a box on the ear, and
upon Mountford demanding, Avith an oath, Avhat that was

390 AN A2sTIQUARIAN RAAIBLE
for, attacked him sword in hand. Mountford drew in
sefr-defence, but was run through the body before he had
time to strike a blow. He died of his wound the next
daj', declaring, Avith his last breath, that Lord Mohun
offered him no violence, but that HUl struck him with
his left hand, and then stabbed him before he had time
to draw his -sword. HUl fled from justice, but Lord
Mohun was taken into custody, and tried for the mm-der.
He was acquitted, however, for want of evidence. It is
not known what became of HUl, but the end of the
bloodthfrsty dueUist Mohun is notorious.
Congi'eve, who was a frequent guest at Mrs. Brace-
gfrdle's, was her neighbour also, and Uved for many yeai's
in Sm-rey Street. He first of aU Uved in Howard Street,
but he quitted that house for a better one in Surrey
Street, when he first became acquainted Avith the Duchess
of Marlborough. Voltafre, on his arrival iu England,
anxious to see Congreve, whose works he very much
admfred, paid him a visit. Let Voltafre himself relate
the cfrcumstance. " At om* interview," says he, " Con
greve spoke of his works as of trifles that were beneath
him, and hinted to me in our first conversation that I
should visit him upon no other footing than upon that of
a gentleman, who led a life of plainness and simpUcity
I answered, that had he been so unfortunate as to be a
mere gentleman I shoiUd never have come to see him ;
and. I was very much disgusted at so unseasonable a
piece of vanity." Congi-eve died at this house on the
28th of January, 1 728-9, and was buried in Westminster
Abbey. In relation to a house in Norfolk Street, the foUowing

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 391
paragraph appears in No. 411 of the "Postman" for
January 13, 1698: — "On Monday night the Czar of
Muscovy arrived from HoUand, and went directly to the
house prepared for him in Norfolk Street, near the
water-side." He Avas visited here on the following day
by King WilUam, and afterwards by the principal
nobility, and indeed by such a host of persons that he
was quite incommoded. The following appeared in
No. 424 of the "Postman :" — " The Czar of Muscovy being
too much crowded with visits in town, has taken that
which was Admiral Benbow's house at Deptford, that he
may live more retiredly." The house here aUuded to was
Saye's Place, where the Victualling Office now stands, and
belonged to the celebrated John Evelyn. An account of
the Czar's doings here is to be found in " The Thames and
its Tributaries."
Eastward, nearer to Temple Bar, is Essex Street, which
derives its name from the unhappy Earl, the last fa
vourite of Queen EUzabeth. Formerly a portion of the
Temple, called the Outer Temple, extended over this
ground, which, in the reign of Edward IL, became the
property of Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, and
Lord Treasurer of England. Here he buUt a town resi
dence for the bishops of that see. In the sanguinary
troubles that signaUzed this reign, the Bishop of Exeter
was firm to the King's cause against the Barons. The
city of London embraced the contrary side, and the
Bishop having been appointed custos of the city, de
manded the keys from the Lord Mayor, Hammond
Chickwell, that he might prevent the entrance of any
troops which the Barons might send to aid the Revo-

392 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
lution. The popiUace, hearing of the circumstance,
arose, and, fearful that the Lord Mayor would obey
the mandate, proceeded in a body to his residence, where
they seized his person, and took away the keys. They
then went to the Bishop's newly-erected house in the
Strand, which they sacked and destroyed. The Bishop,
on the first alarm, moimted his horse and endeavoured to
escape. He got safely through Temple Bar, but was
pursued by the mob, and overtaken at the northern en
trance to St. Paul's, in which he was desirous of finding
sanctuary. He was puUed off his horse, and di'agged
through the mire of the street to Cheapside, where, after
a mock trial in the open air, that lasted but a few
minutes, he was declared an enemy to the people and
the country, and sentenced to be beheaded. Thp sen
tence Avas carried into effect immediately; one of the
mob undertook the office of executioner, and the head of
the luckless prelate was smitten from his body at one
blow, and paraded round the city on the point of a
spear. His brother, and one of his domestics, who had
been seized by the mob before they sacked the house in
the Strand, shared a simUar fate; and thefr bleeding
and naked bodies Avere ignominiously thrown, without
burial, into a heap of nibbish on the banks of the
Thames. Exeter Place, as it was called, was shortly afterwards
rebuUt, and continued to be the town residence of the
bishops of that see untU the reign of Henry VIII. But
this was a house of troubles ; and, with the exception of
the bishops, after Walter Stapleton, almost every one of
its OAvners died a violent death. Lord Paget, its pos-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 393
sessor in the reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VL,
and from Avhom it took the name of Paget House, had a
narrow escape of losing his life by the hands of the
executioner. This nobleman, who, as Sir WiUiam Paget,
had filled various public offices in the reign of Henry,
and fought at Boulogne, with great credit, under the
command of the poetic Earl of Surrey, Avas destined to
higher honours in the reign of his successor. Pie (being
still a commoner) negociated a peace betAveen France
and England, and was sent ambassador to the court of
Charles V. After his return, he was rewarded for his
services with the Garter, made Comptroller of the Royal
Household, Chancellor of the Duchy of Cornwall; and
was raised to the peerage by the title of Lord Paget of
Beaudesert. The Protector Somerset, who was the
great source of his honours, fell, and Lord Paget fell
with him. He was accused of having conspired Avith
the Duke to invite several noblemen to Paget House,
with the design of having them assassinated ; and upon
this charge he was committed to the Tower. He was
kept for many months a prisoner; and although his
innocence was made apparent by the trial of Somerset,
he was formally degraded from the order of the Garter,
upon pretence that he was not a gentleman by blood,
and then set at Uberty. Queen Mary, hoAvever — for he
was a good Catholic and had shoAvn his zeal — restored
him to aU his honours, employed him as an ambassador,
and bestowed upon him the office of Lord Privy Seal.
The next occupier of this house was Thomas Howard,
fourth duke of Norfolk, son of of the chivalrous, ill-fated,
and poetic Earl of Surrey, executed by Henry VIIL,

394 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
and destined to a Ufe almost as romantic, and quite as
iU-fated, as that of his father. From him this buUding,
which is described at this time as being very magnificent,
took the name of Norfolk House. His ambition, and its
sad result, are well knoAvn. For a design to espouse
Mary, Queen of Scots, he was tried for high treason by
the advisers of Elizabeth. The charges against him were,
"that he had entered into a treasonable conspfracy for
deposing the Queen, taking away her Ufe, and invading
her kingdom, by raising war and bringing in a foreign
power; that though he knew for certain that Mary, late
Queen of Scots, had usurped the crown, the title, and the
arms of England, he had treated about a marriage with
her, Avithout acquainting the Queen, and had lent her a
sum of money, contrary to what he had promised under
his hand; that though he was sure that the Earls of
Northumberland and Westmoreland, and others, had
raised a rebeUion against the Queen, an'd were driven
into Scotland, yet he had supplied them vdth money;
that he had, by his letters, craved aid from the Pope, the
King of Spain, and the Duke of Alva, to set the Queen
of Scots at liberty, and to restore the popish reUgion in
England." Upon these charges he was found guilty, and
sentenced to be hanged, beheaded, and quartered. When
in the Tower, a few days prior to his execution, he Avrote
several affecting letters to his son PhUip, bidding him
worship God, and beware of ambition, and if he valued
happiness, to avoid Courts altogether, " except," said the
dying father, " it be to do your prince a service, and that,
as near as you can, in the meanest degree, for this place
hath no certainty ; either a man, by foUoAving thereof

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 395
hath too much worldly pomp, which in the end throws
him down headlong, or else he liveth there unsatisfied,
either that he cannot attain to himself that he would, or
else that he cannot do for his friends as his heart
desireth." The unhappy young man did not inherit his
father's honours : he preserved his title of Earl of
Arundel, which he had borne by courtesy during his
father's Ufetime, and was, like him, committed to the
Tower upon various charges which were never proved,
where he died, after a dreary imprisonment of ten years.
Norfolk House then became the residence of Dudley,
earl of Leicester, the princely owner of Kenilworth, at
that time basking in the sunshine of royal favour, and
once more changed its name. By him it was bequeathed
by will to his son-in-laAV, the unhappy Robert Devereux,
earl of Essex, the last favourite of EUzabeth. It was
now caUed Essex House, and became more celebrated
than ever it was before. WhUe stUl in the occupation of
the Earl of Leicester, we should not forget to mention
that the author of " The Fairy Queen" was a frequent
visitor there, and that his visits did not altogether cease
when the house came into new hands, for both these
noblemen were warm friends of genius ; and Essex him
self was a poet of no mean order, or, rather, he might
have been, if the cares of state and the turmoil of ambi
tion had left him leisure for the cultivation of the muse.
Spenser dedicated his pretty poem of " Virgil's Gnat" to
the Earl of Leicester; and in his " Prothalamion, or
spousal verses on the marriages of the Ladies Elizabeth
and Catherine Somerset," he recaUs to the mind of Essex
the benefits which he, the poet, had received from his

396 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
predecessor, and hints that he is stiU in a state when
such benefits would be useful to him. The hint was not
lost upon Essex. "Near to the Temple," said the
poet — " Stands a stately place.
Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace
Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell.
Whose want too well now feels my friendless case :
But, ah! here fits not well
Olde woes, but ioyes, to tell
Against the bridale daye, which is not long :
Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.
Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer.
Great England's glory, and the world's wide wonder.
Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine did thunder.
And Hercules' two pillars standing near
Did make to quake and feare :
Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie !
That fillest England with thy triumph's fame,
Joy have thou of thy noble victorie.
And endless happiness of thine own name.
That promiseth the same.
That through thy prowess and victorious arms
Thy country may be freed from foreign harms ;
And great Eliza's glorious name may ring
Through all the world, filled with thy wide alarms;
Which some brave Muse may sing
To ages following.
Upon the bridal day, which is not long :
Sweet Thames! run softly till I end my song.''
It Avas in this house that the high-spirited, hot-
blooded, and ambitious Earl, shut himself up, after he
had received the box on the ear from Queen Elizabeth.
That hasty blow and its results led to his nun. He
might have curbed his pride a little Avhen he reflected
that it Avas but a Avoman's hand that inflicted it ; and if

IN THE STREETS OF LONDON. 397
instead of resenting it as he did, he had affected to con
sider it as a proof that he was not altogether indifferent
to her, his fate would not have been so tragical in its
conclusion as it was. In fact, it showed Elizabeth's ten
der regard for the man ; and, great as her anger might
have been against any other lord of her councU, against
Burleigh, Egerton, or Sir Walter Raleigh, -or any other
whom she respected, but did not love, she would never
have forgotten herself or lost sight of the dignity of the
Queen in the petulance of the woman. But Essex did
not feel that tenderness for her which she felt for him ;
and clapping his hand to his SAVord, he swore that he
Avould not bear such usage, were it from Plenry VIIL
himself He then hastily retired from Court to Essex
House, where he shut himself up for some days, refusing
to see any but his most intimate friends. Sir Thomas
Egerton, the Chancellor, Avrote to him to make proper
submission ; but Essex stouly refused. " If the vilest of
aU indignities is done me," he wrote to the Chancellor
in reply, " does religion enforce me to sue for pardon 1
Doth God require it 1 Is it not impiety to do it? Why?
cannot princes err? Cannot subjects receive wrong? Is an
earthly power infinite ? Pardon me, my lord, I can never
subscribe to these principles. Let Solomon's fool laugh
when he is stricken ; let those that mean to make their
price of princes show no sense of princes' injuries. As for
me, I have received wrong — I feel it. My cause is good —
I know it. And whatsoever happens, aU the powers on
earth can never exert more strength and constancy in
oppressing, than I can show in suffering, everything that
can or shaU be imposed upon me." When this letter

398 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
containing many as noble passages as the foregoing, was
shown to Elizabeth, she had good sense enough to per
ceive the fine manly feeling that pervaded it, and per
haps loved Essex all the more for his independence and
scorn of flattery. He was soon drawn from his retire
ment in the Strand, reinstated in aU his former favour,
and sent as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. His discontent
and impatience while in Ireland are well known. He
neither liked the service on which he was employed, nor
the absence from Court which it occasioned. He was
afraid that his enemies at home were endeavouring to
supplant him, and in all his letters to Elizabeth at this
time he expressed a dissatisfaction, which to her seemed
anything but loyal. When prose would not do to con
vince the understanding of the sovereign, he tried verse,
to work upon the sensibility of the woman, and he con
cluded one letter, in which he had caUed Ireland " the
cursedest of all islands," by the following rhymes, which
must have given his royal mistress but a poor opinion of
his discretion. After wishing that he could Uve like a
hermit for the remainder of his days, he says, —
" From all society, from love and hate
Of worldly folk ; then should he sleep secure.
Then wake again, and yield God every praise.
Content with hips and hawes, and bramble-berry;
In contemplation parting out his days.
And change of holy thoughts to make him merry.
Who when he dies, his tomb may be a bush.
Where harmless robin dwells with gentle thrush.
" Your Majesty's exiled servant, "Robert Essex.''
Plis sudden return from his government was a grievous
error on his part. It is always dangerous to play the

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 399
lover with an old woman ; and so Essex found it to his
cost. On his arrival in London he, Avithout stopping at
his OAvn house, hastened to the palace before any one
knew of his return, and, besmeared with dirt and sweat
from hard riding, forced his way into Her Majesty's bed
chamber. The Queen had just arisen, and was sitting
with her hair about her face. Essex fell on his knees,
kissed her hand, and was so well received, that he flat
tered himself he had made a master-stroke of polie^y.
He was dismissed for that morning, and went to his own
house with a light heart. On his return to the palace
in the afternoon, he found things had altered, and he
was ordered into the custody of the Lord Keeper,
and prevented from returning to his countess, although
she was in daily expectation of her accouchement. He
remained for upwards of six months in custody in
the Lord Keeper's house, during which period he feU
dangerously iU; so dangerously, that the Queen was
alarmed, and sent no less than eight physicians to him,
and also a message that she would visit him herself if it
were consistent with her honour. Upon his recOvery he
was allowed to retire to his own house; EUzabeth de
claring, in the presence of those who she knew would
repeat the matter to Essex, " that aU she did or designed
to do against him was for his reformation, and not his
ruin." Sir Richard Berkeley was instaUed in his house
by the Queen as his nominal gaoler ; and Essex, show
ing great humiliation and contrition, was lUtimately re
lieved of this indignity, and left with no other restraint
than that he should not appear at Court or approach Her
Majesty's person.

400 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
Essex sent her a letter of thanks. "This further
degree of goodness," saith he, " doth sound in my ears as
if your Majesty spake these Avords, 'Die not, Essex, for
though I punish thine offence, and humble thee for thy
good, yet will I one day be served again by thee.' My
prostrate soul makes this answer, ' I hope for that blessed
day.' And, in expectation of it, all my afflictions of body
and mind are humbly, patiently, and cheerfuUy borne by
me." " The Countess of Essex," says Hume, " daughter
of Sir Francis Walsingham, possessed, as well as her hus
band, a refined taste in literature; and the chief conso
lation which Essex enjoyed during this period of anxiety
and expectation, consisted in her company, and in read
ing with her those instructive and entertaining authors,
which, even during the time of his greatest prosperity, he
had never entirely neglected."
-Essex remained but for a short time at his house in
the Strand, thinking it better for his health and peace
of mind to retire into the country with his countess.
Before his departure he charged Lord Plenry Howard to
inform the Queen, " that he kissed her hands and the rod
she had used in correcting him; but could never regain
his usual cheerfulness till he was vouchsafed an admission
to that presence which had always influenced his hap
piness, and in which he was sufficiently blessed as long
as he moved within its sphere. He had now resolved to
make amends for his error, and to say, with Nebuchad
nezzar, ' Let my dwelling be with the beasts of the field,
to eat grass as an ox, and to be wet with the dew of
heaven,' tiU it shaU please her to restore my understand
ing to me." The Queen, when this was reported to her.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. _ 401
repUed, "That she heartily wished his actions might
accord with his expressions. But," she added, "aU is
not gold that gUtters; and if the furnace of affliction
produce such effects, I shaU hereafter have the better
opinion of my chymistry."
• But the patience of Essex could not endure for ever.
He had too many enemies at Court, who were continuaUy
exasperating the Queen against him, and when he applied
for the renewal of a patent office which he held, it was
not only denied, but an insulting expression was added,
"that an ungovernable beast should be stinted in his
provender, that he might be the better managed." Essex
at last threw off aU restraint ; and, trusting to his popu
larity among the people of London, which had been for
some time daily increasing, returned to Essex House,
ready for the most desperate enterprises. He gave
sumptuous entertainments daUy to men of aU parties,
but courted chiefly the OathoUcs and the Puritans, untU
he discovered which of the two would be most flattered
by his adhesion, and most Ukely to do hun service in
return. He finaUy attached himself to the Purftans,
;then a daily increasing sect. " He engaged," says Hume,
" the most celebrated preachers to resort to Essex House.
He had daily prayers and sermons in his famUy, and
invfted aU the zealots in London to attend these pious
exercises; for such was the disposftion now begin
ning to prevaU among the English, that instead of feast
ing and pubUc festivals— the methods anciently practised
to gain the populace— nothing so effectuaUy ingratiated
an ambitious leader with the pubUc as these fanatical en
tertainments." In these designs he was aided, if he were
VOL. I. ^ ^

402 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
not instigated, by Meyrick, his steward, and Cuffe, his
secretary, by whose manoeuvres with the people and per
suasion with Essex, the popularity and discontent of the
Earl increased daily. A man so pettish and yet so open-
hearted as Essex, was not the fittest to succeed in treason.
His mind was upon his tongue, and he spoke it freely on
aU occasions. Every word Avas reported to Elizabeth,
who had her spies in his household ; but that which gave
her more offence than all was, that he should have said
that " her mind was as crooked as her body." This was
a double insult, and its very truth in one sense but ren
dered it the more intolerable to the beauty of nearly
three score and ten. He also made overtures to the
King of Scots, Avhich, however, Elizabeth did not know
at the time, or in all probability his career would have
been much sooner brought to a termination. Finally, in
1601, eaten up with ambition, smarting under the sense
of wrong, that usually exasperates a discarded favourite,
and impeUed onwards by desig'uing men, he formed his
grand project for an overthrow of the Government. A
council of malcontents in the Earl's confidence was formed,
who met frequently at Drury Plouse, on the other side of
the Strand, in order that, should intelUgence of their
meeting get abroad, the suspicion should not be directed
against Essex. The principal persons engaged besides
Essex were, the Earl of Southampton, (Shakspeare's
friend,) Sir Ferdinand Gorges, Sir Christopher Blount,
Sir John Davies, John Littleton, and Sir John Davers,
the latter being at that time owner of Drury House.
The project at last determined upon by Essex, in con
junction with these associates, was to seize upon the

IN THE STEEETS OP LONDON. 403
palace, and force the Queen to dismiss all her advisers.
It was resolved that Sir Christopher Blount should attack
the palace-gates Avith a body of picked men; that Sir
John Davies should occupy the hall with another de
tachment; that Sir John Davers should obtain pos
session of the guard and presence-chamber; and that
Essex himself with the main body of his adherents,
should rush in upon the Queen's apartments ; which done,
he wOuld entreat her upon his bended knees, and with
every manifestation of respect and loyalty, to remove his
enemies from Court, call another parliament, and by com
mon consent settle a new plan of government.
The Queen, who had some suspicion of their plans,
despatched Sir Robert SaviUe to discover whether there
were any unusual concourse of people daUy at Essex
Plouse ; and he obtained admittance upon the pretence
of a friendly visit. In consequence of his report to the
Queen, whatever it was, Essex received a summons to
appear before the Privy CouncU. He excused himself
on the plea of indisposition, and immediately assembled
aU his principal adherents to deliberate on what was
now to be done. This was on the 7th of February; and
as affairs had now come to a crisis, it Avas determined
to risk aU, or perish in the attempt. The idea of seizing
the palace was abandoned as impracticable, and EUza
beth, as if she had been fully informed of aU their de
signs, had doubled aU her guards. It was therefore
resolved, as the only alternative, to arouse the people,
Essex fondly imagining that his voice, if he caUed upon
them, would bring them in their thousands and tens of
thousands to support his cause. On the following day,
2 D 2

404 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
the Earis of Southampton and Rutland, the Lords Sandys
and Mounteagle, with about three hundred gentlemen of
inferior degree, assembled at Essex House. One of them,
Sir Ferdinand Gorges, proving false to his accomplices,
took care to inform Elizabeth of their proceedings by
inteUigence secretly conveyed to Sir Walter Raleigh.
WhUe they deliberated, measures were taken to apprize
the Lord Mayor of the attempt about to be made upon
the city, and the Lord Keeper Egerton, together with the
Earl of Worcester, Sir WUUam KnoUys, and Lord Chief
Justice Popham, with a retinue, were despatched to
Essex House to ' learn the cause of their assembUng.
They were admitted to the house one by one through a
wicket, but their attendants were excluded. "After
some altercation," says Hume, " in which they charged
Essex's retainers upon their aUegiance to lay down their
arms, and were menaced in thefr turn by the angry mul
titude who surrounded them, the Earl, who found that
matters were past recal, resolved to leave them prisoners
in his house, and to proceed to the execution of his
former project." He accordingly communicated this
design to his friends, and it being approved by them, the
Lord Keeper, and the Chief Justice, and the rest who
accompanied them, were shut up in a room, while Essex
and his friends, to the number of about two hundred,
armed only Avith their walking-swords, saUied forth to
arouse the people. Temple Bar was opened for him,
and he was joined in his progress by the Earl of Bedford
and Lord CromweU, and some others. The citizens
gathered around in great numbers, more from surprise and
curiosity than for any other motive, as Essex soon dis-

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 405
covered to his sorrow. In vain he exhorted them to
take up arms. The crowd, which at first was only curi
ous, grew every moment hostUe, until Essex, hearing that
he had been publicly proclaimed a traitor at Westminster,
determined to retreat and seek for safety in his own
house. He turned back for that purpose, but found that
the streets had been barricadoed against him by the
citizens, and a strong company under the command
Sir John Levison. He attempted, however, to force his
way; and in the skirmish which ensued, Tracy, a young
man to whom he bore great friendship, was kiUed. The
Earl then struck suddenly down into one of the narrow
passages leading from Fleet Street to the river, at the
bottom of which he and several of his company procured
boats, and rowed themselves to Essex House, the garden
of which abutted upon the Thames. ' On their arrival
they found that Sir Ferdinand Gorges had set their
prisoners at liberty, and had accompanied them to Court.
Essex, reduced to despair, now determined to fortify his
house, and hold out to the last extremity. He stood a
siege of four hours, and then surrendered at discretion.
The night being very dark, and the tide not serving to
pass the cumbrous and dangerous bridge to the Tower,
Essex and Lord Southampton were conveyed up the
river in a boat to Lambeth Palace, where they passed
the night. On the foUoAving morning they were con
ducted to the Tower, together with the Eari of Rutland,
Lords Sandys, Cromwell, and Mounteagle, Sfr John
Davers, and Sfr Henry Bromley. Others, prisoners of
inferior note, were conveyed to Newgate.
Ten days afterwards, Essex and Southampton were

406 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
brought to trial, and found guilty of high treason.
Southampton threw himself upon the Queen's mercy,
protesting that he had never harboured a thought of evil
against his prince; that all he had done was purely
owing to his affection for the Earl of Essex ; and that his
going into the city Avas Avith no other design than to
facilitate the access of Essex to the Queen, that he might
make a personal complaint of the wrongs that were done
him. He declared, moreover, that he had never drawn
his sword on the occasion, and that he had hindered, as
much as in him lay, the firing of any shot from Essex
Plouse. Essex begged with great eloquence for the life of his
friend, but declared that for himself he had no boon to
ask. He protested, however, that he never had any evil
intentions against the Queen; that he was a good sub
ject, and a true friend to the kingdom. Lest even this
should be construed into a prayer for mercy, he begged
the Lords to understand that he said this much, not to
preseiwe a life of which he was heartily weary, but
purely for the sake of his friends, whose affection for him
had led them into this peril.
The Lord Pligh Steward passed sentence of death
upon them both, and advised Essex to implore the
Queen's mercy. When the sentence was given that he
should be beheaded and quartered, Essex said, in a
serious tone, " If Her Majesty had pleased, this body of
mine might have done her better service, — however, I
shall be glad if it prove serviceable to her any way."
The struggle in EUzabeth's breast on the condemnation
of her favourite is well known. During the six days

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 407
that he lived after his condemnation " she felt," to use
the language of Hume, "a perpetual combat betAveen
resentment and incUnation, pride and compassion, the
care of her own safety, and concern for her favourite;
and her situation during this interval was perhaps more
an object of pity, than that to which Essex himself was
reduced." If the Earl would have asked for pardon, her
proud heart would have been but too happy to have
granted it ; but he AvoxUd not sue for ft ; and Elizabeth,
with deep anguish — all the deeper and more poignant,
because she Avas compelled to conceal it — signed the
warrant for his execution, and he died.
The affecting story of the ring withheld from the
Queen, by the Countess of Nottingham, Ave have already
related. Essex was only in his thirty-fourth year when
he thus perished. He was the most popular nobleman of
his day, and died universally regretted. Warton says of
him, so popular was he during his bright, brief troubled
career, that he scarcely ever quitted England, or even the
Metropolis, on the most frivolous enterprise, without a
pastoral or other song in his praise, which was sold and
sung in the streets.
The Earl of Southampton was retained a close prisoner
in the Tower until the accession of James I., when he
was liberated. Sir Gilly Meyrick, the steward, and
Henry Cuffe, the secretary of the Earl of Essex, were
hanged and quartered at Tyburn, and Sir Charles Davers
and Sir Christopher Blount were beheaded on Tower
HiU. Of the other conspfrators, some were pardoned,
and some were sentenced to fine and imprisonment, but
none suffered capitally except those above mentioned.

408 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
In Essex House was born that other Earl of Essex, as
celebrated in the annals of England as his father. Pie
had less romance in his composition than his luckless
sire, and his life was aU the happier for it. He was
quite a child when his father died, and Lady Walsing
ham, his grandmother, took charge of his education. He
had just entered his fom'teenth year when he was
betrothed to the Lady Prances Howard, daughter of the
Earl of Suffolk, who was a year younger. The Earl
traveUed on the Continent for four years, and was mar
ried at Essex House shortly after his return. The lady,
however, had formed another connexion during his
absence, and refused to share his bed, and ultimately
separated herself from him, to throw herself into the
arms of the handsome Carr, Viscount Rochester, and after
wards Earl of Somerset. Their infamous career, and their
participation in the wicked murder of Sir Thomas Over
bury, are weU known. Essex was too happy to be rid of
such a woman, and a divorce took place upon a pretext
and after a trial which are a disgrace to the age and to
the court and character of James I. The future career.
of Essex, as general of the Parliamentary army during
the civU war, is too famUiar to aU readers of English
history to need repetition. His death, during the time
that Charles I. remained a prisoner with the Scottish
army at Newcastle, was, says Hume, " a public misfor
tune. Fully sensible of the excesses to which affairs had
been carried, and of the worse consequences which were
stiU to be apprehended, he had resolved to concUiate a
peace, and to remedy, as far as possible, aU those iUs to
which, from mistaken, rather than any bad intentions, he

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 409
had himself contributed. The Presbyterian, or the
moderate party among the Commons, found themselves
considerably weakened by his death, and the small
remains of authority which still adhered to the Plouse of
Peers were, in a manner, whoUy extinguished."
.The following extracts from the MS. journal of the
House of Commons, of the I7th of October, 1646, are
interesting, and preserve a record of proceedings which
took place at Essex House after the death of the Earl, of
which we have no other account.
" The House being informed y«: y Marquis of Hertford his lady,
or some others, by their or any of their appointment, had this last
night about 12 of the clock, seized on all the ready moneys, goods,
and divers writings and papers in Essex House, belonging to the
late Earl of Essex deceased,
" Resolved,
" That the whole examination of the matter of fact of this inform
ation be referred to y Comm"., which Committ«. are likewise to
examine whether the articles for the rendition of Oxford, or the
priviledges of this House, be hereby broken.
" The House being informed y Mr. Devereux and some others at
the door could acquaint the House more particularly with this busi
ness, " It is resolved, &c.,
" That Mr. Devereux, Mr. Isham, and such other wittnesses as
are at the door, and can prove the preceding information, shall be
now called in.
" Mr. Devereux was called in, and acquainted the House that he
went to Essex House this morning, and desired Mr. Isham to de
liver unto him an indenture or conveyance concerning some lands
entailed on him, and Mr. Isham told him it was not now in his
power to do it, for the Lady Marchioness of Hertford sent for him
up into her chamber about 12 of the clock at night, and that not
only the writings, but likewise all y" money, to y= value of £3,700,
andgoods there were seized on, and taken out of his possession.

410 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
" Another witness did likewise inform the said particulars.
" Mr. Prideaux. Mr. Holies.
Sir John Danvers. Mr. Purefoy.
Sir Arthur Hazlerigg. Sir W". Lewis.
Mr. Maynard. Mr. Morley.
Sir Hen. Vane. Mr. Miles Corbett.
Mr. Gerrard. Mr. Edwards.
Mr. White. Mr. Reynolds.
Mr. Robinson. Sir Phil. Stapleton.
Mr. Lisle. Mr. Knightley.
Sir Tho^ Pelham. Sir W". Armyn.
Mr. Recorder L'. Gen". Cromwell.
Mr. Selden Mr. Dennis Bond.
Sir Hen''. Mildmay. Mr. Harley.
Mr. Scawen Mr. Bainton.
Sir. Nath. Fiennes. Mr. Tho». Cheeke.
Mr. Crew.
" This Comm'°., or any five of them, are to examine the whole
matter of fact of y" information given to the House concerning the
seizing of the Earl of Essex's writings, money, and goods at Essex
House, and whether y" articles for the rendition of Oxford, and the
priviledges of this House, be not thereby broken ; and are to meet
upon it this afternoon, at 2 of the clock, in the Exchequer Chamber,
and have power to send for partys, papers, witnesses, and records,
&c. " Resolved, &c.,
" That the moneys, goods, and writings taken out of the pos
session and custody of Mr. Isham, or others, at Essex House, by
the Marq'. of Hertford, or by his lady, or by any other person or
persons by his, their, or either of their appointments, shall be de
livered and restored to the possession, hands, and custody of the
Earl of Northumberland, E. of Warwick, and Mr. Solic.-Gen"., or
such as they shall appoint to receive the same, untiU the House
shall take further order.
" The queon being propounded, that this House doth declare
y' neither y' Marq" of Hertford, or any other pson y' hath been in
arms ag" the Parliam' shall attend the funerall of y' Earl of Essex
as a mourner, and that the execut"^" be desired to take care herein,
and, the question being put, whether this question shall be now put.

Tell"

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 411
" The House was divided.
" The Noes went forth.
Sir Phil. Stapleton. 1
Mr. Whitlock. | Noes . . 30
Sir W'". Armyn. )
Mr. Bond. / ^eas . . 48
" So that the question passed with the affirmative.
" Resolved, &c.,
" That this House doth declare that neither y= Marq". of Hert
ford, or any other pson, that hath been in arms ag" the Parliament,
shall attend the funerall of the Earl of Essex as a mourner, and
that the exec" be desired to take care herein. "October 20th.
" That all the members of the House do attend the funerall of
the ,Earl of Essex at Essex House, on Thursday next, at ten of
y" clock." Essex House was occupied by men of rank till after
the Restoration, when it fell to neglect and ruin, and
was appropriated to various uses. The greater part of it
was pulled down towards the close of the seventeenth
century, and the present Essex Street, Devereux Court,
and other neighbouring thoroughfares, laid out upon its
site. The Unitarian chapel in Essex Street was formerly
caUed Essex Plouse, and is a part of the original
buUding. In Essex Street, Dr. Johnson, as the curious may see
in Boswell, formed a club, the year before he died. It
Avas held at a tavern or public-house called the " Essex
Plead," kept by a man aa'Iio had been a servant of Mr.
Thrale. " The terms," said Johnson, writing to Sir Joshua
Reynolds, and inviting him to become a member, " are lax,
and the expenses light. We m.eet thrice a week, and he
Avho misses forfeits two-pence." Sir Joshua declined to
become a member of an association so plebeian as to fine

412 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE
a man two-pence*; but the club prospered, nevertheless,
and survived its founder.
In Devereux Court is the " Grecian Coffee-house," stand
ing upon the site of a tavern of the same name, of which
Sir Richard Steele makes mention in the " Tatler."
We now return again to the Strand, and are in sight
of Temple Bar; but before proceeding in our next walk,
we must take notice of some other matters of interest
connected with this street, which we have omitted in our
progress. In the Strand lived Dodsley, Tonson, and
MiUer, the celebrated bookseUers, whose names are so
intimately connected with the literature of England. In
connexion with the name of Tonson, we must not omit
to mention the well-known Kit-Cat Club. This club
derived its name from Christopher Cat, who kept the
" Fountain Tavern" in the Strand, and who was cele
brated for the excellence of his mutton-pies, and in whose
house the club first met. The forty-two pictures pre
sented by the members of this club to Tonson, the book
seUer, were removed by him, in the beginning of the last
century, to Barnes Elms, and placed near his house in a
handsome room, lately standing on the grounds of Henry
Hoare, Esq. It was Uned with red cloth, and measured
40 feet in length, 20 in width, and 18 in height. At
the death of Mr. Tonson, in 1736, they became the pro
perty of his great nephew, who died in 1767; they were
then removed to Water Oakley, near Windsor, and after
wards to Mr. Baker's, at Hertingfordbury.
Relative to the withdrawal or expulsion of Jacob
* The true reason was, that Barry, whom he hated, and perhaps
envied, was one of the members.

IN THE STREETS OP LONDON. 413
Tonson from the Kft Cat Cluh, there is a curious hand-
biU of the day, preserved in the collection of the King's
Pamphlets, vol. xix., in the British Museum, a collection,
by the way, which is little known, and seldom caUed for,
but which contains matters that wUl repay the student
of history who wiU take the trouble to examine them : —
" ADVERTISEMENT.
" Whereas some persons have maliciously reported, that the
famous bookseller was on Thursday, the 4th day of January, iu
the year of our Lord 1704, infamously expelled a certain society
call'd the K — t C — t Club : and that the said bookseller, for his
ill-timed freedom with some of the principal members, at the read
ing of a late satyr upon his parts and person, was beaten to an
ungentleman-like degree; and is since clapt up in a mad-house.
This is to certify, that the said bookseller did of his own free
Inotion valiantly withdraw himself from the S|iid society, in scorn
of being their jest any longer ; and that he was not beaten (what
ever he had reason to fear) in his intellects, but at this very day
walks the publick streets without a keeper, and to satisfy any
gentleman's curiosity is still ready to talk as sensibly as ever.
" Subscribed
" Jurat, coiam me " Jacob.
" Nosno T. loca J.
" There is now in the press, and will speedily be published, a
POEM, call'd "Jacob's Revenge;
" Being a comical account of the grounds and reasons of the book
seller's quitting the K — t C — t Club, to be sold by the Booksellers
of London and Westminster."
In the "New View of London," pubUshed in 1708, it
is mentioned as a remarkable circumstance attaching to
the history of Prescott Street, near the Strand, that
instead of signs, the houses were distinguished by num
bers, as the stair-cases in the Inns of Court, and Chan
cery. The foUowing advertisement, taken from news-

414 AN ANTIQUARIAN RAMBLE, &C. '
papers a century and a half old, are interesting at this
distance of time, as they show the shifts to which adver
tisers were reduced, to point out their houses to their
customers, in the absence of numbers : —
" Doctor James Tilborgh, a German doctor, states that he liveth
at present over against the New Exchange iu Bedford St., at the
sign of the ' Peacock,' where you shall see at night two candles
burning within one of the chambers before the balcony; and a Ian-
thorn with a candle in it upon the balcony : where he maybe spoke
withal alone, from 8 in the morning till 10 at night."
The following is of the year 1699 : —
"Dr. Anderson's pills, sold by J. Inglis, now living at the
' Golden Unicorn,' over against the May-pole in the Strand."
The next is from the " Spectator " of the 29th of
April, 1718, when numbers were becoming more com
mon :r-
" In George Street, in York Buildings in the Strand, the third
house on the right hand, number 3 being over the door, may be had
money lent, upon plate and jewels at reasonable rates.
" Attendance from 8 o'clock in the morning till 2 in the after
noon."

END OP VOL. I.

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