Picturesque London

by Percy Fitzgerald

Here, in King Street, is Christie’s—which has been, however, more disastrous than Crockford’s to many an artistic gull. Never can be forgotten the ridiculous displays at one or two of the famous picture sales five or six years ago. Within the last twenty years there have been great days at “Christie’s,” when on the “view” days the streets were blocked with carriages, and the dilettanti, in a sort of mad fervour, gaped, and raved, and bid for works whose value is now admitted to be about a quarter of what was then paid. Not to be forgotten was the spectacle and pressure of the perspiring, enthusiastic, and ignorant dowager, with her daughters, pushing her way round and staring at the works; and the grave, subdued excitement of the courteous administrators of the place, who felt how much was at stake. There were other field days, when the noble Dudley contended for the great Sèvres jars and won them at ten thousand guineas. It would also be a history of human folly, and infatuation of cracked amateurs, who nibbled away their fortune, in confidence of their own precious judgment, when all they bought was to “fetch double hereafter.”

This rather grimed waste of brick wall on the south side of King Street is “Willis’s Rooms,” familiar enough; but it is not so well known that here used to be held the old “Almack’s” balls. They were instituted a full century ago as gambling and dancing rooms. There is a pleasant old-fashioned flavour in the term “The Rooms,” and there are “the Rooms” still at Bath, and at York. These are of a pleasing rococo pattern, rich and florid, and the design is of the good old spacious school, now extinct. “Willis’s Rooms” is the sole survival of such things in London. Some years ago we had the Hanover Square Rooms, of the same kind, long since converted into a club. The rooms in King Street are enriched with florid old stucco, but it has been coloured, to suit the tastes of the day, with execrable feeling. Almack was originally one MacCall, a Scot, who came to “Town,” and thinking his name somewhat too provincial, reversed the syllables. Close by is the St. James’s Theatre, built by Braham, and where, till the hour of her death, his daughter, Lady Waldegrave, had her box. This pretty house has since been enlarged after the modern fashion, and a balcony added; and the observer may note that the ceiling and the portion of the auditorium nearest the stage, with the panelling of the boxes, belongs to the old theatre.

Hard by is the picturesquely-placed old Palace of St. James’s, which, however, has been sorely maimed by later improvements; witness the “skimpy” colonnade in its court. The really effective bit is the old-fashioned gateway, with its towers of fine, rubicund brick, hard as stone, as ripe in colour and crusted as old port. It is a welcome, familiar object, well proportioned, with a Dutch quaintness and effect in its belfry. How pleasant and satisfactory it is may be conceived by simply imagining it away from the bottom of St. James’s Street. Some fifty years ago it was suggested to George IV., by his Minister, that the whole Palace should be sold, and pulled down, to supply resources for building ugly Buckingham Palace! Mr. Whistler has noted the gaiety of the scene, and has done an etching of the lively, cheerful view. Every passer-by avails himself of the services of the pleasant, cheerful clock, and its agreeable unpretending chimes. Our old friend the tower is all for practical use, his cupola sheltering the bells, his gate for passage, his dial for telling time. And what a right well-proportioned, conspicuous dial it is! It is seen at once that the building was intended for it, and it for the building, whereas in numberless so-called clock towers the clock face seems to have been merely “stuck on” as an afterthought, or a hole made in which a dial was inserted. There is art in so simple a thing as this.

Few undertakings have been more ridiculed or sneered at than the quarter of Regent Street which was for a time one of the boldest and most daring schemes in the way of building that could be conceived. It has always been the fashion to speak of the plaster palaces, and the pretence of the architecture, but there can be no doubt that Waterloo Place, the Quadrant, and the houses of Regent Street are the most effective and gayest portions of London. The general design is admirable, and the Quadrant is particularly graceful and original. Waterloo Place and the terrace and steps leading into the Park are picturesque and foreign. Even the Insurance Office, with its piazza, closing the vista afar off, could not be spared. The two blocks on each side passing Carlton House Terrace are singularly effective. The

STATUE OF SIDNEY HERBERT, BY FOLEY.

conception had a perfect airiness and magnificence; and we may be certain forms the ideal of London for persons at a distance. It is curious to think that within living memory there was a stately palace standing where the terraces now are—the well-known Carlton House, which displayed an open colonnade somewhat of the pattern of the Duke of Westminster’s house in Grosvenor Street. The problem set to the architect, Nash, was to make an attractive thoroughfare up to Portland Place, and thus join the new Regent’s Park with the Green Park. The Quadrant within living memory was far more imposing than it is now, owing to the lofty colonnade which ran in front of the shops. This, however, was found to interfere with trade and public order; it was accordingly removed: the line of the parapet may be still followed along the walls.[7] The cost of this important work was very little, scarcely a million and a half, which included all charges, purchase of ground, and goodwill, and the return in annual rentals was put at about thirty-five thousand pounds, which at three per cent, was a fair investment for so important a scheme. For his own residence the architect designed the old Gallery of Illustration, with its courtyard in front, which contained a long, well-designed gallery at the back, still to be seen, intended for the display of architectural objects. It is now a Club. The variety of patterns displayed in Regent Street does credit to the imagination of the designers; and the curious in styles will have no difficulty in identifying some houses that are the work of Sir John Soane, and which exhibit his special oddities. The impetuous Pugin used to describe the whole as “a nest of monstrosities.”

CHAPTER X.
LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS.

IN no part of London is there felt such a mixture of sensations as when we enter Lincoln’s Inn Fields. There is a tone of old-fashioned repose mixed with quaintness, and a “large air of neglect” too. There are ancient houses enough and decayed chambers. The Square itself has a certain pleasant old fashion, and is not trimmed up as are the modern ones. It is rather an old garden run to seed. There is a tradition that it is the exact area of the base of one of the Pyramids; but this has been found by measurement not to be exact. I never pass the side of the Fields that faces the Inn without examining with a deep interest the range of mansions that line it, once inhabited by personages of state and quality, now by clerks. These are of an architectural and stately pattern, and though altered, cut up, subdivided, and otherwise disfigured, can, by a little exercise of the imagination, be readily restored to their former state.