ST. JAMES’S SQUARE IN 1760.
In Lord Cowper’s, No. 4, is that magnificent room designed by Lord Burlington, which is a wonder to those who see it for the first time. This is one of the few houses in the Square which has remained in the hands of a single family since the Square was formed by Lord St. Alban’s, in Charles II.’s day. Lord Strafford’s house is next door; and on the other side it is flanked by Lord Bristol’s, another of the houses to which one family has steadfastly adhered.
It is curious, having this in view, and remembering the aristocratic traditions associated with the Square, to find so many of the houses now turned to alien uses. Clubs—the Windham, the Sports, the Portland, the Nimrod, the East India, and the Army and Navy—occupy no less than half a dozen of them; the London Library is housed in a rebuilt structure on the site of the former residence of Admiral, the Earl of Torrington; and an art gallery peers out of the corner premises abutting on King Street.
Members of the great families of Sunderland, Portland, Halifax, Legge, Hyde, Devonshire, etc., besides those I have mentioned, have all resided here; so, too, did the wonderful old Lady Newburgh, who remembered I don’t know how many sovereigns, and was a friend of one of the most unfortunate, Charles I.; the first Lord Palmerston, who married an heiress under romantic circumstances; Sir Allen Apsley, who was Treasurer to the Duke of York, and who on one occasion received the future James II. as a guest beneath his roof “for one night only,” as they say in theatrical circles; Sir Cyril Wyche, who was a President of the Royal Society; Sir John Duncombe, a former Chancellor of the Exchequer; and Sir Charles Grandison; besides Ambassadors from nearly all the courts of Europe.
No; it is to the past that we must turn to find even this most select of Squares in its glory. When all the great houses were standing—Cleveland House (now represented by a huge and incongruous block of flats), Lord Jermyn’s fine mansion, on the site of the Portland Club, and Mr. Guinness’s residence, and Ossulston House, where the Bank and Lord Falmouth’s now stand—an additional distinction must have been given the Square, especially when we remember the great and beautiful residents who were then to be seen in its precincts.
The history of this Square is a particularly fascinating one; but it can be but lightly touched on here.[2] As we have seen, a king was born in its chief house, so, at a later day, a queen was to be observed driving from another residence, that of the notable Sir Philip Francis, to take her trial at Westminster, and a curious print of the period shows Queen Caroline in her carriage surrounded by a vast crowd leaving No. 17, which house, together with its next door neighbour, was subsequently to be demolished to make room for the East India Club.
Another notable residence is No. 20, the only example in the Square, but a fine one, of Robert Adam’s work. It was for many years the home of the Watkin Williams Wynn family, for one of whom it was built, in 1772, until recently, when it passed into Lord Strathmore’s possession.
But not always have the residents been of noble birth or irreproachable morals, and as we again emerge into Pall Mall by the Army and Navy Club’s gorgeous buildings—the work of Parnell, and standing on the spot where once the famous Raggett, the proprietor of White’s, opened the unsuccessful Union Club—we are reminded that in a small house on part of its site once lived that Moll Davis, the actress, whose singing of an old ballad attracted the questionable attentions of Charles II. The footsteps of the Merry Monarch must have often echoed in the Square, where the siren dwelt, and where also lived so many of his friends and acquaintances. Other footsteps have been heard here; those of Johnson and Savage, who, cold and hungry, passed a whole night wandering round the central garden with its statue of King William III. (which was so unconscionable a time in getting itself erected), while they settled the affairs of the nation and dreamed of that immortality which one, at least, was to attain.
By the bye, that open space, formerly a mere rubbish heap, has seen many vicissitudes. Once it had a considerable piece of water within its enclosure, and was octagonal in shape; earlier still it was merely enclosed by posts and rails in a most uncompromising square; to-day it is, to use a much-loved 18th century word, an “umbrageous” garden.
The present inhabitants would be sufficiently startled if Mr. Brock were to suggest a display of fireworks there; but in past days this was a regular concomitant to any great public rejoicings, and many of the influential residents interested themselves in these “feux d’artifice.” The victory of the Boyne, the capture of Namur, the Peace of Ryswick were some of the more notable occasions for, as contemporary prints assure us, really remarkable efforts in pyrotechnic display.