Indeed, few can conceive how many interesting streets, houses, corners, churches, and general “surprises” are to be found by those who know where to look for them. There are people who have been brought up, “man and boy,” as it is called, in London, and lived there all their life long, and who think it is little more than a repetition of the Strand and Fleet Street, and that the City is all like Lombard Street. What London abounds in is the picturesque and the poetical: there is really an abundance of charming “bits,” of artistic buildings, and of relics as noteworthy as any in a foreign town. Some of them we pass every day, but familiarity obscures their merit. Others, too, we pass every day, but they are hid behind screens and walls, or locked in behind old rusty gates. Often thinking of these ignored treasures, I determined to explore for myself, and see if I could do something in a humble way to introduce to better notice this “Picturesque London,” or the picturesqueness of London. Prompted by this sympathetic impulse, I have for years made regular, diligent “travels in London” as an explorer, and have been astonished at all I saw. It was true, no doubt, that many of these things were described in the official guide-books, but after the appraising, registering fashion of such works. What one has looked for was some one with sympathy to point out the merits and beauties. I pursued my new calling with a growing relish, often directed to inspect curiosities by a friendly counsellor, more often stumbling on them by accident. In time it was amazing what a number of old houses, old doorways, old churches, old corners, I was thus introduced to, what unsuspected treasures were laid open, and above all what a new fund of entertainment was provided for a simple street promenader.
I shall now proceed to share my enjoyment with the courteous reader, and we shall make our wanderings in rather a fitful way, chiefly as the explorer made them, almost without system, dealing with these objects as they lie grouped together within compass of a day’s travelling.
PICTURESQUE LONDON.
CHAPTER I.
ST. MARGARET’S CHURCH, WESTMINSTER.
WE shall commence our pilgrimage at that striking and imposing scene, the old “Broad Sanctuary,” Westminster. Few may have noted the quaint obelisks which at intervals help to form the inclosure! Lately the churchyard was laid down in grass, and the flagging removed; but it may be doubted if this be a real improvement. The air of space seems diminished. A sward of this kind is becoming in a genuine close, as at Salisbury, where the cathedral is in the country; but here the minster is in the heart of the town—in the streets—and the grass seems to have an artificial air. Sixty years ago this inclosure displayed a number of fine old trees, which would have been in admirable keeping, and a picturesque adornment. But when the coronation of George IV. was at hand, the obsequious Dean and Chapter determined to erect scaffolding and ample theatres to view the procession; and the trees were cut down. As Mr. Croker said, they had been so ill-advised or so greedy as to take this step, and the “loss of this ornament to the public was great, while the profit to the Chapter did not perhaps amount to £10.”
One solitary altar-tomb, carefully railed round, will be noted in this large inclosure, and we may speculate as to the reasons for this toleration, where all the rest have been swept away. The inscription is almost illegible; but it is the memorial of a certain wealthy Mr. Davies. He was the owner of all the estate where are now Grosvenor Square and the adjoining streets; from him this enormous property passed to the Grosvenor family, and Davies Street was so named in his honour. No doubt it was owing to this august connection that his tomb was allowed to remain. But his heritors might have the inscription re-cut.
From a Drawing by Herbert Railton.
The group of buildings—the Abbey, Westminster Hall, the Houses of Parliament, the bridge beyond, the Westminster School—might be set off with prodigious effect were there one of real artistic instincts to undertake the task. Nothing, for instance, can be meaner or more ineffective than Palace Square with its statues. It is obvious that this should be treated as a place, with an imposing and attractive object as its centre; instead of which we find it divided in two by a broad walk, and the whole effect is frittered away. There is something grotesque in the statues ranged round dos à dos, huddled together with a commercial view to convenience. A single statue, it may be said, needs an area to itself to have proper effect; as we may see in the Place Verte at Antwerp, where that of Rubens is sufficient to give point to the whole area.