MR. MACKENZIE GRIEVES
In former days there were certain well-known Englishmen who made their home in Paris, Lord Hertford and his brother, Lord Henry Seymour, and later on Sir Richard Wallace, being conspicuous examples. The last of those, however, whom I remember was Mr. Mackenzie Grieves, a gentleman of the old school who in early life had been an officer in the “Blues,” and who died not a great number of years ago. Whenever he came to England he rarely failed to pay a visit to Strathfieldsaye, and there I frequently used to meet this polished representative of all that was best in the French society of the past. Possessing the most charming manners, there was something about him which vividly recalled what one had heard of the best days of the old régime; his costume, for instance, though of extreme simplicity, had a particular note of distinction which has now totally disappeared from men’s dress. A remarkable judge of horse flesh, especially of the great Norman horses known as percherons, he was also well known as a perfect master of the haute école. His judgment in Turf matters was also held in very great respect in Paris, and his immaculate frock-coat and voluminous tie were seldom absent from Longchamps, where he had something to do with the direction of the races.
One of the principal reasons given by Mr. Mackenzie Grieves for his love of Paris was the delightful nature of its environs, as well as the charm of the Bois de Boulogne, an ideal spot for a morning ride. London, alas! has nothing to equal this, and in these days one has to go many miles out before reaching the real country.
One of the greatest changes which I have witnessed, indeed, has been the overflow of London into the pleasant fields which formerly lay quite close to what are now the inner line of suburbs. Streets and streets of uninteresting and depressing-looking little houses now cover districts which not so very long ago were quite rural. About the time I was married people used very often to drive out to the market gardens, which were then quite close, and eat fruit there. The strawberry season was the great time for these excursions. In 1840 quite large nursery gardens existed at Paddington, whilst some hundreds of acres near what is now Battersea Park were utilised for the same purpose up to much more recent times. The gardens here were especially noted for the early fruit and vegetables which they produced, as also for their asparagus, said to be the best grown in the neighbourhood of London.
Hammersmith, on the other hand, was famous for its fruit,—strawberries, raspberries, and the like, being grown in great perfection. Fulham also formerly produced a great quantity of fruit and vegetables, and though several acres of land which had previously served for this purpose were put to other uses in 1865, the ground stretching towards Hammersmith and North End was pretty well covered with market gardens as late as the ’seventies. In my childhood, of course, Chelsea and Hammersmith were considered quite in the country. As an instance of this, it may be mentioned that in the Royal Blue Book for 1826 Chelsea Farm is given as the “country residence” of Lady Cremorne. The ground occupied by this lady’s house, after being utilised for the celebrated Cremorne Gardens, has now been covered with streets.
GROWTH OF LONDON
Every year London grows bigger and bigger, and the day now seems to be not far distant when the road to southern watering-places, such as Brighton, will run through an almost unbroken line of villas. Of late there seems to be a tendency to live more and more out of London, City men and others making a practice of travelling up and down every day, journeys which can now be made in perfect comfort and convenience. Luxury in travelling, as in most other things, has much increased.
Marvellous it is how, within my lifetime, the general standard of comfort amongst all classes has been raised, though not, I fear, with any particular increase of contentment. The so-called necessaries of life have become very much multiplied, and there is now a universal craving for amusement which was quite unknown in old days. Everything is comparative, and the luxury of to-day becomes the necessity of to-morrow. The life of the poorer classes living in the country, notwithstanding the fact that wages were lower than at present, was certainly not an unhappy one in old days, when there was a bond of sympathy existing between landlord and tenantry which is now, except in some few cases, a thing of the past. Classes were then more strictly defined, and the farmers, the majority of them sturdy yeomen of far more distinguished descent than most of the brand-new Peers of to-day, would have laughed to scorn any idea of calling themselves gentlemen; now, however, it would seem that every one is a gentleman or a lady.
Universal and, as many think, misdirected education has completely destroyed the picturesque side of village life, and in the place of the quaint old traditions and picturesque beliefs handed down by their forefathers, modern villagers possess a rudimentary smattering of all sorts of useless knowledge, which, imperfectly assimilated, serves but to render them loutish copies of the townsmen whom it is their ambition to imitate.
OLD SUPERSTITIONS