At this point begins that remarkable series of clubs for which Piccadilly is almost as famous as Pall Mall; indeed, between the United Empire Club at No. 84, and the Lyceum, at No. 128, there are a good baker’s dozen of these “assemblies of good fellows, meeting under certain conditions,” as Dr. Johnson defined them. Those in this quarter of the town are for the most part comparatively modern, and I believe I am right in saying that not one of their names will be found included in Timbs’ interesting work on “Clubs and Club Life.” It would form but monotonous reading to set them all down here, and I should be arrogating to myself by doing so the functions of the compiler of Directories were I to attempt it, but as we go along, one or two will require a word chiefly from the fact of their inhabiting houses which are otherwise interesting.
CLARGES STREET.
Clarges Street, however, for a moment, intervenes before we come to one of them. It was formed between 1716 and 1718, by Sir Walter Clarges, on ground adjoining Clarges House, the residence of his father, Sir Thomas, who, it will be remembered, was the brother-in-law of the great Duke of Albemarle. Like all the streets in this neighbourhood, it is connected with many a well-known name; Mrs. Delany, the friend of George III. and Queen Charlotte; Miss O’Neil, the beautiful actress, who nearly extinguished Mrs. Charles Kemble, and created a furore by her rendering of “Juliet” at the Dublin theatre; Edmund Kean, whom no one could extinguish, and who is said to have kept a tame puma in his house; the beautiful Emma Hart, better known as Lady Hamilton; William Mitford, who wrote the story of Grecian prowess, and was himself a Colonel of Militia; Mrs. Carter, that learned lady, who introduced Epictetus to the unlearned; and Lord Macaulay, who remembered everything, and was called by Lord Melbourne “a book in breeches,” highly to the amusement of Queen Victoria. These are some of the great ones who have left their record on the houses in Clarges Street.
HALF MOON STREET.
Half Moon Street, close by, which takes its name from an old inn with this sign, one of the many public houses which at one time congregated in this quarter, of which the “Hercules Pillars,” the “Swan,” the “Golden Lion,” the “Horse Shoe,” the “Barleymow,” and the “White Horse,” may be mentioned—was formed about 1730. Boswell once lodged here, and on his own shewing, gave admirable dinners, “and some claret,” to such as Hume and Franklin; Garrick and Oglethorpe. Madame D’Arblay’s last residence was also here, over a linen-draper’s shop; and here, “in a little, projecting window,” might once have been seen “all day long, book in hand, with lively gestures and bright eyes,” the poet Shelley; so that someone said he only wanted a pan of water and some fresh turf “to look like a young lady’s bird, hanging outside for air and song.” Here, too, it was, while stepping into her carriage, that the notorious Lola Montes, was arrested in 1849, on a charge of bigamy.
CAMBRIDGE HOUSE.
For a moment a break in the succession of tributary streets, gives us pause to return to some of the more interesting houses in Piccadilly itself; and one of the most noticeable of these is that once known as Cambridge House, but now as the Naval and Military or “In and Out” Club, the latter colloquial designation having its simple origin in the large “In” and “Out” directions for drivers, at its two entrances. This fine house has had at least four names, for, besides those given, it was originally known as Egremont House, and later as Cholmondeley House. It took its first title from the second Earl of Egremont, who died here in 1763 “of an apoplexy, which from his figure was reasonably to be expected,” writes Lord Chesterfield. The third Earl, whom Mrs. Delany thought “a pretty man,” and even Horace Walpole allowed to be handsome, also lived here for a time. The name of the house was changed to Cholmondeley House when the first Marquis of Cholmondeley was residing here. He had been Chamberlain to the Prince of Wales in 1795, and was, after George IV.’s accession, Lord Steward of the Household; he died in 1827, and some years later the old Duke of Cambridge (father of the late Duke) came to reside here, when the designation of the house was again changed to that of its owner.
Many are the good stories told of His Royal Highness and his habit (like Lord Dudley’s) of “thinking aloud,” particularly in church—such as his audible remark, when the parson had uttered the words “Let us pray,” of “By all means;” his “No, no, I don’t mind tithes, but can’t stand half,” when the clergyman had read the text as to the expediency of giving half of one’s possessions to the poor; and his common-sense view of the non-efficacy of a certain prayer for rain: “No good—shan’t get rain while the wind’s in this quarter;” and so on.
On his death in 1850, the Duke was succeeded in the occupancy of the house by a man who was also the hero of many excellent “mots”—Lord Palmerston.
“The frolicsome statesman, the man of the day