London: volume 2
Knight, Charles.
1851
XXXV-The Strand.
XXXV-The Strand.
About the commencement of the last century, when the workmen were digging a foundation for the existing church of St. Mary, they discovered at the depth of feet the virgin earth; forming, of course, originally the surface of , and a striking evidence of the derivation of the name of this great metropolitan thoroughfare. Where now all this crowding and bustle, this continual hurrying to and fro, not of chariots and horsemen, but of omnibuses and cabs, and all the many varieties of transport which luxury or necessity have devised, are incessantly going on, till could fancy the very houses must be weary of the eternal din, and long to be what Wordsworth describes them as seeming-asleep; where all things speak to the eye and ear, and haply not unfrequently to the heart and mind also, of the presence of the busiest population perhaps of the globe, in its busiest aspect,--once was merely a bare and marshy shore; where doubtless the cry of the bittern from its reedy nest has often broke upon the ear of the half-naked, but gaily ornamented, human wanderer from the neighbouring city of huts! And the very circumstance of the name being applied to this part of the banks of the Thames only seems to show that it remained long after all other parts in the vicinity of the growing London had lost their native character and appearance. The great cause of change in must have been the erection of Abbeyby Sebert, King of the East Saxons, in the century, and the consequent necessity of making the former a thoroughfare. The rebuilding of the Abbey and the establishment of a palace by the Confessor in the century must have also materially enhanced its importance. Buildings gradually arose in different parts of the line. Before the close of the century the magnificent palace of the Savoy, the church of St. Mary, and the hamlet of Charing were all in existence. Yet the state of continued to present a curious contrast to the edifices that here and there adorned it, and to the splendid pageants and processions that on occasions of high ceremony-such as the coronation or burial of a monarch, for instance-wound their slow length along through countless thousands of spectators. Here is a picture of it, so late as . In a petition presented that year to Edward II., by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood of the Palace at , it is stated that the footway at the entrance of , and from thence to the Palace, was so bad that the feet of horses, and rich and poor men, received constant damage, particularly in the rainy season; at the same time the footway was interrupted by . The petition was answered by an order appointing certain persons assessors for levying a tax on the inhabitants between and the , to defray the expenses of the repairs desired. Such a tax was too unjust to be enforced; consequently, in , during the reign of Edward III., a toll was levied on all goods carried either by land or water to the Staple at , to pay for the parts of where there were no houses, and, where there were, the owners, somewhat more reasonably, were to defray the charge; particularly as it was pointed out (and this is interesting as another cause of the progress of ) Essex House, , and the Inn of the Bishops of Norwich, afterwards York House, by this time spread out their extensive and embattled piles towards , and their gardens, and terraces, and water-stairs down to the river; but the openings between them, neither narrow nor far between, still left the river exposed to the passengers on the southern side, whilst on the north there was the open country extending toward the pleasant Highgate and Hampstead Hills, merely interspersed here and there with scattered buildings. Among the characteristic features of the way at this period were the . we fancy we hear the reader exclaiming; yes, strange as it may seem, there were at least between and , though the waters beneath them were neither very wide, deep, nor turbulent. They were, in short, so many water-courses gliding along from the meadows on the north, and crossing in their way to the Thames; though at the same time of sufficient importance to be bridged over. The sites of of these bridges are marked out and permanently preserved by the names given to the lanes through which their channels found way,--Ivy-bridge Lane, and .Strand-bridge Lane opposite the end of , to which we shall have occasion to recur in connection with a, highly important remain of antiquity. The | |
150 | former was pulled down prior to the appearance of Stow's publication in the century; but the latter was then still standing. The bridge remained buried in the soil, its existence utterly unknown (the careful Stow does not mention it, so that it had long disappeared before his time), till , when it was discovered during the construction of new sewers a little eastward of . It was of stone, and consisted of arch about feet long, very antique in its appearance, and of the most durable construction. Another feature of the ancient Strand was a stone cross, standing in front of the spot now occupied by , at which, says Stow, Blount, in his gives us an example of the nature of the business transacted on these occasions, when he mentions that a bargain was here settled between the King and Laurence de Broke for his hamlet of Renham in Middlesex. After the disappearance of the cross the famous May-pole assumed its place. |
By the time of Edward VI. had become pretty well closed up on both sides, on the south or river side by the walls of the long line of noble and episcopal mansions, and on the north by a single row of houses. , and its continuation , extending near to , were now middle-aged and certainly highly respectable houses. Some of the buildings recently pulled down in the -mentioned street were, we learn from excellent authority, above years old; and the fleurs-de-lis on the front of many of the houses in this neighbourhood carried back the thoughts of the spectator to the glories of the Henry, the conqueror of Agincourt, whose triumphal return to his countrymen these ornamental decorations are supposed to have commemorated. From this time, indeed, it began to be found that had progressed too fast for the comfort of passengers through it; it became choked up with the evidences of its prosperity; and later times have had to undo much of what was now done, as in the case of the removal of this very , and, still more recently, of Exeter «Change. Its very soil had grown so valuable, that the earls and bishops, its original owners, could no longer afford to occupy so large a share as they required for their respective residences; so they pulled them down, and thus prepared the way for the erection of a houses where had stood before. changed its stables into an Exchange in ; later in the century York House became the streets now known under names which perpetuate the designation and rank of him who worked the metamorphosis-
Essex House and Arundel House did not long survive the fall of their old aristocratic neighbours; whilst the Savoy, though it still managed for a time to keep off destruction, by becoming a garrison in part and a prison in another, was finally swept away, with the important exception of the chapel, during the present century, on the building of . Gay thus commemorates the earlier of these changes :-- [n.151.1] With another picture by the same hand, and representing the same time, the early part of the century, we conclude these preliminary notices of :--
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The features here described--the low penthouse, rough pavement, and the combs dangling in the face of every passer-by-remained till within a few years ago on the south side of : the north having been previously arranged as we now find it, through the spirited efforts of an alderman of London; and as to the who is there that does not know there is as much and as frequent cause for impatience as ever, if has no eyes for, or apprehension of, the beauty of the magnificent horses that draw it, and by issue so proudly forth from these steep and miserable-looking lanes? | |
We cannot better commence our walk through than by a notice of the improvements just referred to. Stow here refers doubtless to the Cross we have before mentioned; and, consequently, the existing must have formed a portion of the he describes. The remainder was , granted by Edward I. to Walter de Barbier, for the residences of as they were called, but who were, in fact, country butchers only, who brought their meat in carts, and offered it for sale just without the civic jurisdiction. The principle of competition in reducing price seems to have been thus early acted on as well as understood. In reference to Malcolm observes- The pulling down of all these was undertaken in pursuance of a plan suggested by Alderman Pickett, and the existing soon rose in their room. Unfortunately for the success of the plan, the stream of traffic flowed round the southern side of the church; and the houses, being found too large for ordinary inhabitants, were under-let, and the consequence is a very marked dissimilarity between the appearance of the opposite portions of this fine area. , however miserable its aspect in the days of its decline, had many interesting reminiscences. Here was the residence of the French ambassador, in which the Duke de Sully was a | |
153 | resident |
for a single night, the of his temporary abode in London, whilst the palace of Arundel was being prepared for him. Like most of those fine picturesque-looking mansions which characterised ancient London, the house consisted generally of small and low rooms, many of them on the same floor. The ceilings were traversed by large rude beams, and a well staircase, lighted by a skylight from the top, extended from the ground to the roof. Roses, crowns, fleurs-de-lis, dragons, &c., formed the ornaments of its front. The house bore the date of . The half-insane, half-inspired dramatic poet Lee resorted here; and it was, says Oldys, This church has been spoken of in such very different terms by men who ought to be competent judges, that does not know whether to elevate the hands in admiration or in disgust. In an age when architecture was reaching its lowest point of abasement, it is something not to have been the worst. Malcolm designates it a beautiful church; then, again, Mr. Malton says it is a disgusting fabric, and Lambert a very handsome edifice. Whatever the architecture of the building, its history is very interesting, though the chief points there also are disputed. The part of the name is no doubt derived from its dedication to St. Clement, a disciple of the apostle Peter; but the meaning of the appellation has been a much vexed question. Stow's account of the matter is as follows : This latter transaction refers to the great massacre of the Danes which took place in Ethelred's reign, simultaneously in different parts of the country, and the Danes are supposed to have fled to the church for shelter. Lastly, there is the account, ascribing to the church a still more ancient date, given by Fleetwood, the antiquary, and Recorder of London, to the Lord Treasurer Burghley; to the effect that, when Alfred drove most of the Danes out of the kingdom in , those residing in London who had married Englishwomen were allowed to live between and Ludgate, and that they built a synagogue, which was afterwards consecrated and called by its present appellation. It is clear enough that the name could not be derived from all these sources, but the incidents themselves are consistent each with each, and may all be true: nay, they even partially support each other. Supposing Fleetwood's account to be correct, we have at once an explanation why Harold's body should be brought to , and why the Danes should fly thither in their extremity for shelter. The church was given to the Knights Templars by Henry II. The existing building, on the merits of which critics seem to have had so much difficulty to come to anything like agreement, was built toward the end of the century by Edward Pierce, under the direction of Sir Christopher Wren, though the steeple was the work of Gibbs.[n.154.1] The chief features of the exterior are the steeple, the portico, | |
155 | and the rounded eastern end; of the interior, the semicircular row of composite pillars extending from east to west and facing the altar, the festooned intercolumniations, the gilt flowers and gilt capitals, the large vault of the nave, and the magnificent pulpit. In the new vestry-room, on the north side of the churchyard, is a painting by Kent, the protege of Lord Burlington, which formed originally the altar-piece. Its history is curious. In an order was received from Bishop Gibson directing its removal, in consequence of its being supposed to contain portraits of the Pretender's wife and children. The parish was in a commotion, for the painting had been a very expensive , and was doubtless much admired. The Bishop's order, however, was executed, and the picture, from being the principal ornament of the church of St. Clement, became the at the coffee-room of the well-known neighbouring tavern, the Crown and Anchor. After some years had elapsed it was again restored to the church, though even to this day it has not resumed its old position. Hogarth, who, as is well known, ridiculed Kent and his noble patron in his picture of Burlington Gate, and again in his where Pope is introduced, engraved a burlesque of this picture. Kent, indeed, erred in having anything to do with either painting or sculpture; in architecture he was better, in landscape-gardening excellent. In the parish of , Fabyan, the chronicler, lived, as we learn from his will; and it was from a certain plot of ground within the parish limits that a curious custom, still observed by the Sheriffs on being sworn into their office in the Court of Exchequer, originated. In the year Walter de Bruin, a farrier, purchased a piece of ground here from the Crown for the erection of a forge, on condition of paying horse-shoes, and the proper number of nails required to fasten them, annually into . |
From we pass to where the noble archway, and its lofty columns, attract the eye on the northern side; that is the entrance to the inn of St. Clements,--the inn immortalized by Shakspere as the home of Master Shallow in his templar days. | |
The inn is named from the church, and dates at least as far back as , when students of the law are known to have had their lodging here. Prior to that time there is supposed to have been an inn for the reception of penitents who came to well, as old as the reign of Ethelred. This well is the same that Fitz Stephen refers to as of the excellent springs and to which the scholars from School, and the youth from the city, used to saunter of summer evenings. It is now covered with a pump, but there still remains the well flowing as steadily and freshly as ever. Over the gate --a device, an anchor, which is explained as referring to the martyrdom of St. Clement, who was believed to have been tied to an anchor and thrown into the sea by the Emperor Trajan. The Hall and numerous residences form courts, through which is a thoroughfare to and New Inn. The Hall is an elegant well-proportioned room, with a good portrait of Sir Matthew Hale among its other pictures. In a garden belonging to the Inn is a statue of a kneeling African supporting a dial, which was purchased by Holles, Lord Clare (whose family occupied the Inn during the reign of some of the Tudors), and presented to the society. In Knox's are some | |
156 | lines written upon this statue, which were found, it is said, day affixed to it. The point of the satire is somewhat old, though the form is new and clever:--
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In St. , adjoining, lived Sir John Trevor, cousin to Lord Chancello Jeffries, and twice Speaker of the . He was bold enough to caution James against his arbitrary conduct, and Jeffries against his cruel violence. Pity that he was not honest also! He was found guilty of corrupt practices by the , and had himself to put the question, as Speaker, whether he ought not to be expelled the House, and declare it to be carried in the affirmative. A rich piece of practical justice! Whilst we are on this side of the way we may as well notice Lyon's Inn, an appendage of the Inner Temple, and a place of great antiquity. It had formerly an entrance from , which crossed near the centre, but now from to the Inn closed up. Marks of the gateway from are still visible on the house above; and at the corner of the low passage on the other side of the street leading into is a carved and painted lion's head. We are in a curious street. Everything here is ancient: its inhabitants, principally Jews, being of course by no means an exception. But all old things seem to be passing away. Houses are being pulled down; and the moral character seems to be changing as well as the architectural. It is a fact, at least, that we have passed through several times of late without an attempt at obstruction on the part of the industrious salesmen. With and the famous Maypole we shall conclude what we may call these irregular parts of . | |
The old church of St. Mary occupied the site of the eastern part of the present , and was among the or public buildings pulled down by the proud and reckless Protector to make way for the pile he was about to build. The congregation waited a long time in the expectation that he would fulfil his promise of erecting another place of worship, joining themselves in the mean time to the congregation of . Somerset died without having done anything for them, and a removal took place--the church of the Savoy being this time the adopted place. Here they remained till the erection of the present edifice, which was the of the churches ordered to be built during Queen Anne's reign. Gibbs, the architect, in his own account of , says it was the building he was employed in after his arrival from Italy. Few structures have been more severely criticised. The great fault, it seems generally agreed, is the profusion of ornaments and the multitude of small parts; on the other hand, it possesses the high excellence of being admirably designed for the site, and the union of the facade and tower is eminently happy. The interior also is fine, though liable to the same objection of being too much ornamented. The side walls display ranges of pilasters, with entablatures, above the other; the ceiling is semi-oval, covered with decorations in stucco; and | |
157 | the altar at the east end, with a very large and striking-looking alcove, has paintings of the Annunciation and the Passion. The pulpit is very beautifully carved, and has a sounding-board in the form of a shell. A serious accident happened here in at the proclamation of peace. Just as the heralds were passing the church, a man, who was standing behind the stone railing that runs round the roof, leaned against of the ornamental urns, which, being only fastened by a decayed wooden spike running up the centre, gave way, and fell among the dense crowd below. A terrible cry was raised by those who saw its descent, and in the confusion that ensued many persons were hurt, besides who were killed by the urn, which weighed about . The poor fellow who had been the innocent cause of the mischief was found to have fallen backward and fainted away, of course from pure fright. The Maypole, as we have before mentioned, stood in front of the site of , and in the place where had been formerly the stone cross. The setting up of this Maypole is attributed to John Clarges, blacksmith, whose daughter had married Monk, afterwards Duke of Albemarle. The parliamentary ordinance of swept away this among all the rest of the Maypoles; but, on the Restoration, a new and loftier was raised with great ceremony and rejoicing. From a rare tract, entitled published at the time, it appears the pole was a stately cedar, feet long, a choice and remarkable piece, made below bridge, and brought in parts up to . From thence it was conveyed, oh the , to , a streamer flourishing before it, amidst the beating of drums and the sound of merry music. The Duke of York sent seamen with cables, pulleys, &c., with great anchors, to assist in raising it; and after them came men, bareheaded, carrying crowns. The pieces were then joined together and hooped with bands of iron, the crowns, with the King's arms, richly gilt, were placed on the top, the trumpets sounded, the men began their work, and in hours' time it was raised upright and established fast in the ground. Then the drums and trumpets beat again, and resounded with the shouts of the assembled multitudes. A party of morrice-dancers now came, Strange doings these for ! If could by any magic revive the scene for a moment, how the New Police would be mystified! All that's fair must fade, and Maypoles enjoy no special exemption. In it became necessary to have a new , which was accordingly set up on the , with gilt balls and a vane on the summit, and, on particular days, the extra decorations of flags and garlands. This was removed about the time of the erection of the New Church, and presented by the parish to Sir Isaac Newton, who sent it to the rector of Wanstead; that gentleman caused it to be raised in Wanstead Park, to support the then largest telescope in Europe. Removed though it was, it was got destined to be forgotten. This is the same Maypole that figures in the as the starting-place for the racers:--
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Extending from as far as the present and Devereux Court was anciently an Outer Temple, which, with the Inner and Middle Temples, constituted the residences of the Knights. From their hands it passed, in the time of Edward III., into the possession of the Bishops of Exeter, who occupied it till the reign of Henry VI. under the name of Exeter House. It was afterwards successively held by Sir William (afterwards Lord) Paget, who called it Paget Place; the Duke of Norfolk, of whom we have spoken in our account of the ; then by Elizabeth's and unworthy favourite, the Earl of Leicester, who gave it also his own name; and lastly by the nobler but less fortunate successor in the Queen's heart, the Earl of Essex. of the Bishops | |
who possessed it found a grave as well as a home here. This was Miles Stapleton, who greatly improved or rebuilt the mansion, looking forward doubtless to a long lease of enjoyment; but during the disturbances of the reign of Edward II. was seized by the mob as of the King's friends, beheaded in , and then buried in a heap of sand or rubbish at his own door. The chief memory of this place is of course connected with Essex, and the rash act for which he was executed. Elizabeth and he had quarrelled more than once or twice before the last irreconcilable difference. She had been offended by his conduct in joining the expedition to Cadiz without her permission, by his marriage with the daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, and above all by a dispute concerning the appointment of an assistant in the affairs of Ireland, when he was about to visit that country as Lord Deputy. This last quarrel terminated in her boxing his ears, and bidding him The provocation was, it is said, his turning his back upon her. The indignant noble clapped his hand to his sword, and swore he would not have put up with such an insult from Henry VIII. He went, however, though with great reluctance, to Ireland, surrounded by a brilliant staff, and was followed for some miles from London by crowds of Londoners, crying, In a letter written by him from the seat of his government, he complains sadly of his position, calls Ireland the and concludes with a passage | |
159 | that would certainly astonish the head of a government in the present day, if he received any such in his despatches. Essex wishes he could live like a hermit
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It is difficult to estimate the nature of Essex's Irish government, thwarted as he was on all sides. The Cecils were his enemies at court, and in Ireland he was not allowed to make his own subordinate appointments. When he named the Earl of Southampton, his friend, general of the horse, the Queen compelled him to revoke the appointment. All consequently went wrong; and at last, feeling perhaps that he was making no progress in subduing the enemies to whom he was opposed, and that his sudden presence at court might counteract the machinations of his rival, he arrived unexpectedly Michaelmas Eve, about in the morning, at the court gate, and made his way hastily up to the Queen's bedchamber, where he found Elizabeth newly up, with her hair about her face. She received him graciously; and he left her, thanking God that, though he had suffered much trouble and storms abroad, he found a sweet calm at home. The calm was but of short continuance; the Cecils and others were at work, and that very evening he was ordered to consider himself a prisoner in his room. After months of restraint he wrote a touching appeal to the Queen, which was not answered for months more, when he was released, but ordered not to appear at court. In a few days a valuable patent he held for the monopoly of sweet wines expired, and he petitioned for a renewal to aid his shattered fortunes. It was refused; and in a manner that made the refusal the least mortifying part of the business. was the Queen's remark. Essex now became desperate; and unfortunately there was at hand ready to direct his thoughts into the worst channels-Cuffe, his secretary, a man who has been described as [n.159.1] By him Essex was advised to remove Sir Robert Cecil, Raleigh, and others, forcibly from court, and so make the way clear for the recovery of his ascendancy. Other men joined in this advice, and, finally, relying upon his extraordinary popularity with the Londoners, he determined to adopt it. A strong party of officers who had served under him took up lodgings about , and formed themselves into a council. The gates of Essex House were thrown open to flocks of Catholic priests, Puritan preachers, soldiers, sailors, young citizens, and needy adventurers; these proceedings of course immediately attracted the notice of the government, and Essex was summoned to appear before the Privy Council. A note from an unknown writer, warning him to provide for his safety, was at the same moment put into his hand, and he was informed that the guard at the | |
160 | palace had been doubled. Essex saw he must at once strike or be stricken; so, on the following morning, Sunday, the -, he determined to march into the city during sermon-time at Cross, and call upon the people to join him, and force their way to the Queen. His dear friend, the Earl of Southampton, with the Earl of Rutland, Lords Sandys and Mounteagle, and about gentlemen, were ready to accompany him, when the Lord Keeper Egerton, Sir William Knollys, the Lord Chief Justice Popham, and the Earl of Worcester arrived, and demanded the cause of the disturbance. They were admitted without their attendants; when Egerton and Popham asked what all this meant. was the reply uttered in a loud and impassioned tone; The Lord Chief Justice said he ought to explain his case to the Queen, who would do impartial justice. Some voices now cried out, The Lord Keeper, then putting on his hat, commanded the assembly, in the Queen's name, to lay down their arms and depart. Louder cries now broke out, Essex immediately conducted them to an inner apartment, bolted the door, and placed a guard of musqueteers to watch it. Drawing his sword, he then rushed out, followed by most of the assembly. At Cross, to their surprise, they found no preaching--no congregation--the Queen having sent orders to that effect to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen. The Earl, addressing the citizens he met with, cried, and entreated them to arm. But they contented themselves with crying, and left him to his fate. Uncertain what to do, Essex went to the house of of the sheriffs, and remained for some time. About in the afternoon he again went forth, and passed to and fro through many streets, till, seeing that his followers were fast disappearing, he directed his footsteps towards Essex House. Barricades had been formed in the mean time, and at Ludgate he was attacked by a large body of armed men whom the Bishop of London had placed there. Several persons were wounded in the affray. Essex was twice shot through the hat, and his step-father, Sir Christopher Blount, was severely wounded and taken prisoner. The Earl retreated into , where, being faint, drink was given him by the citizens. At he obtained a boat, and so got back to Essex House, where he found that his last hope, the hostages, were gone; his trusted friend and servant, Sir F. Gorge, having set them at liberty, hoping thereby to make his own peace with the Queen. He now fortified his house, determined to die rather than be taken, hoping still to receive assistance from the citizens. But a great force soon hemmed him in on all sides; several pieces of artillery were planted against the house, amongst the rest on the tower of . A faithful follower, Captain Owen Salisbury, seeing all was lost, stood openly in a window, bareheaded, desiring there to meet his death. He was hit on the side of the head:-- he exclaimed. It was sufficient, however; for it saved him from the fate he dreaded-execution as a traitor: he died on the following morning. About at night Essex demanded a parley, and surrendered to the Lord Admiral upon a promise of a-fair hearing and a speedy trial. |
161 | The friends, Essex and Southampton, were sent to the Tower, the other prisoners to the various gaols. We need not follow the details of the sad history any farther, but pass at once to the conclusion. The Earls were found guilty, and Essex was executed on Ash Wednesday, the , about in the morning, in an inner court of the Tower-Sir Walter Raleigh looking on from the Armoury. It was said the execution was made thus private from the Queen's fear of what Essex might say touching her own virtue. Rash and criminal as this insurrection might be, it would be wrong to judge of Essex's character merely from that event. He was a brave soldier, an accomplished scholar, a true friend (what an expression was that of his in a letter to the Lord Keeper Egerton, ), and a generous and high-spirited man: circumstances alone, acting upon his great fault, an unrestrained temper, prevented his having also the reputation of a loyal subject. Among his other claims to favourable remembrance, there is for which he deserves especial honour and reverence--in a most intolerant age he was a most tolerant governor. Several of Essex's principal followers, including the instigator Cuffe, were executed. Southampton was saved from the block, but remained a close prisoner during the Queen's life-and that life it appears was embittered to a fearful degree by these melancholy transactions. Essex remained the darling of the people, whilst the ministers-his rivals, enemies, insulted and hooted whenever they appeared abroad. Even she herself was looked on coldly. The particulars of the romantic story of the ring sent to the Queen by Essex after his condemnation, as collected by Dr. Birch,[n.161.1] and repeated in the are so interesting, and belong so peculiarly to the memories of (for the Countess died in the neighbouring Arundel House), that we cannot resist the temptation of transcribing them :-- says the compiler of this work,
continues the compiler, An additional confirmation is given by the recorded incidents of Elizabeth's conduct during her last illness. For days and nights together prior to her decease she refused to go to bed, but lay upon the carpet with cushions around her, buried in the profoundest melancholy. Let us pass on to the other and pleasanter memories which yet hold us to this interesting place. The author of the who had been a visitor at the house during Leicester's life, and had received assistance from that nobleman, thus writes in his (he has been speaking of the Temple):-- The hint in these verses was, as has been observed, rather broad, but in strict harmony with the feelings and habits of the great writers and patrons of the time. Essex no doubt appreciated it rightly: at all events it was he who buried the poet in . Essex's son, the Earl of Essex who commanded the parliamentary forces in the civil war, was born here. When he was got rid of by the Commons' famous self-denying ordinance, Lord Clarendon says the whole parliament, the day after he had resigned his commission, came to Essex House to return him thanks for his great services. The only existing remains of Essex House are a pair of very large and fine stone pillars, with Corinthian capitals, at the end of the street; probably the original supports of the water-gate of the mansion. In Devereux Court is the oldest and most famous of London coffeehouses, the Grecian; with a bust of the Earl of Essex on its front, which appears to be a fine work, although from its height it is difficult to judge. Cibber, we were told, was the sculptor. Between and Stow says an ancient chapel formerly |
163 | existed, called St. Spirit. Next to is , which, with Norfolk, Surrey, and Howard Streets, the latter crossing the others, mark the site of the once stately mansion and gardens of Arundel House, and derive their names from its latest possessors. |
The earliest notices we possess of this mansion refer to it as the London residence of the Bishops of Bath and Wells, when it was called Bath's Inn, or Hampton Place. In the reign of Edward VI. it was in the King's hands, who sold it to his uncle, Lord Thomas Seymour, who, when Stow wrote, had lately and given to it the appellation . During his time the house was the scene of some strange intrigues and dalliances, in which the Virgin Queen figures in a somewhat equivocal manner, and which had well-nigh ended in her marriage, and the addition of a King Thomas to the roll of British sovereigns. In Seymour, who held the post of Lord Admiral, married the Queen Dowager Catherine, Henry VIII.'s last wife, and buried her the year following, not without raising suspicions of foul play. The crime supposed was, however, never supported by any tangible evidence, and seems to have arisen more than anything else from the known intimacy between the Princess Elizabeth and him. He contrived to place the Princess at , evidently with the object of marrying her, and sharing in the succession to the throne. And there is little doubt that she liked him. His vaulting ambition, however, overleaped itself, and his trial and execution for practices speedily followed, and put an end to all his schemes. Reverting to the Crown, was sold by it to the Earl of Arundel, with several other messuages, for £, and another change of name took place: thenceforward it was called Arundel House. Clarendon gives an interesting but somewhat satirical account of the place and its master, the collector of the famous marbles, at this period. He says the Earl seemed to live,
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The magnificent collection of marbles referred to in this passage of course adorned Arundel House at the time in question, when it was the common resort of many eminent artists. Among those also who more particularly enjoyed the Earl's | |
164 | favour and patronage were Inigo Jones, Vandyke, Hollar, Nicholas Stone, and Le Soeur. The Earl's treasures were thus arranged:--the principal statues and busts were ranged along the gallery, the others in the garden, where he had the inscribed marbles let into the wall. The collection comprised not less than statues, busts, and inscribed marbles. When the mansion was about to be pulled down about , the entire collection was offered for sale, but, no single purchaser appearing, it was divided into several portions, and dispersed. Enough, however, ultimately found their way to Oxford to give name to a collection which comprises many of the Earl's most valued relics. From the Earl of Arundel the house passed by marriage into the hands of the Howard family, and became the seat of the Dukes of Norfolk, when it received its latest designation of Norfolk House. The Countess of Nottingham, who plays so important a part in the romantic episode in the tragical history of the Earl of Essex, died here, as before mentioned, in . Her husband was a Howard, so she was probably on a visit at the time. The next visitor of importance was the Duke de Sully, during the performance of his mission from Henry IV. of France to James I., immediately after the accession of the latter; Norfolk House having been temporarily appointed as his place of residence. The great French statesman speaks of it as of the finest and most commodious mansions in London, having a great number of apartments on the same floor. From hence he appears to have removed to Crosby Place. After the Great Fire of London learning also found shelter within its walls. The Royal Society, being burnt out of Gresham College, were invited by the Duke to reside here; they did so, and remained for some years. On their removal the whole was pulled down, and the present Arundel, Norfolk, Surrey, and Howard Streets, rose on the site. |
Footnotes: [n.151.1] Gay's Trivia, b. ii. [n.154.1] Britton and Brayley's London and Middlesex, vol. iii. part 2, p. 167. [n.159.1] Reliquae Wottoniae. [n.161.1] Negotiations, p. 206. |
