The shops of Bond Street have always been famous. In the early years of the 19th century the so-called Western Exchange was established there, but has long since disappeared. Its size can be estimated by the illustration here given, taken from an old coloured print of the day.
But undeniably fashionable and central as is Bond Street, the stranger will be struck at its exceeding tenuity, especially in that part where Grafton Street joins it. Here, during the season, one is accustomed to see carriages and carts in apparently inextricable confusion, until the white glove of authority is raised aloft and confusion ceases to be confounded.
Lord Beaconsfield, who knew and loved his London thoroughly, once wrote that, “Those who know Bond Street only in the blaze of fashionable hours can form but an imperfect conception of its matutinal charm when it is still shady and fresh, when there are no carriages, rarely a cart, and passers-by gliding about on real business.”
Should, then, we wish to feel “as in some Continental city,” which the author of “Endymion” assures us is the case, if we share Bond Street with the lark, we must join this blythe spirit, before the late breakfasted “West End” surges through its long vista.
One of the street’s former residents, we may be sure, never did this, for, when the poet Thomson was lodging at a milliner’s here, he, to use Mrs. Piozzi’s words, “seldom rose early enough to see the sun do more than glisten on the opposite windows of the streets.”
BURLINGTON STREET AND BURLINGTON GARDENS.
Burlington Gardens, leading to Old Burlington Street, and, by Vigo Street, to Regent Street, is the first thoroughfare we come to on the right after leaving Piccadilly. Old Burlington Street has passed through no less than three changes of name. In 1729 it was known as Nowell Street; four years later it blossomed into Great Burlington Street; to-day this adjective is, appropriately, discarded. It, of course, takes its name from Lord Burlington, whose palace stood between Burlington Gardens and Piccadilly, and whose grounds once occupied the land where the street now runs. The West End branch of the Bank of England is housed in Burlington Gardens in the residence formerly known as Uxbridge House, from the lesser title of that Marquis of Anglesea who once owned it, and who died here, in 1854. Famous for his share in the victory of Waterloo, one of his legs lies buried in the little church adjoining the battle field, and the old soldier was once surprised, on paying it a subsequent visit, to find the resting place of his limb converted into a sort of shrine. Uxbridge House was erected in 1790-2 by Vardy and Bonami, and stood on the site of Queensbury House, where Gay’s patron and patroness, who set up that great monument to the poet, in Westminster Abbey, once lived.
Another titled lady, whose connection with a poet has alone caused her name to survive, resided in Burlington Street, in the person of Lady Warwick, the widow of the great Addison; and among other past inhabitants mention may be made of Lord Hervey (Pope’s “Sporus” and “Lord Fanny”); Mark Akenside, the poet-physician, who died here in 1770; and Sir Joseph Banks, who took a house here in the following year; Colonel Ligonier (whose portrait by Reynolds is one of that Master’s memorable achievements), and the Marquis Cornwallis, who resided at No. 29, where he died in 1805.
Another great soldier is indirectly connected with the street, for we find Wolfe writing to his mother and brother who were at one time living here, although there is no evidence to show that the hero of “The Heights of Abraham” himself ever resided in Burlington Street. The “great” Lady Cork—for I think she deserves the adjective—is, however, closely associated with this street. That noble patroness of literature, and last of the “blue stockings”—to use the words in their best sense—died here, in 1840, and Hayward has recorded the charm of her personality, her good nature, and unusual gifts.
It is an interesting fact that in Burlington Street brass door-plates bearing the names of private persons (of which Lord Powis’s in Berkeley Square is the sole survivor) were first used in London.