So lately as December, 1877, an action was brought by the owner of the Sir Paul Pindar Tavern in Bishopsgate Street to restrain the neighbouring hospital from pulling down the adjoining old house. The two houses were said to be to some extent framed together, so that parts of the rooms of one would be immediately above or below the rooms of the other. The two had probably formed originally one house. The buildings were old and interesting, and the plaintiff deposed that he attributed much of the value of the good-will “to the antique and quaint appearance of his house.” It appeared that the one house was separated from the other by a timber-framed partition, and that a portion of this had been removed to enable the South Kensington authorities to get some large and handsome ceilings. Already Sir Paul Pindar’s house leans ominously, as though the foundations were giving way. This elegant old mansion might be placed in a museum, so profuse and delicate are the carvings and carved panellings. Mr. Birch tells us it was built about the year 1650, the owner being a wealthy merchant, who gave a sum of £10,000 to old St. Paul’s Church. The ceilings of the two rooms are exceedingly rich, one representing, in flat relief, the sacrifice of Isaac, the other being divided into geometrical patterns. What will become of this work when the old building has to be taken down?
SIR PAUL PINDAR’S HOUSE.
Mr. Birch notes with much praise the fine old mansions of St. Helen’s, their fine design and material, of “cut brick.” The date 1646 is on one of the pilasters. He thinks—and is probably right—that it is the work of Inigo Jones, who was employed on the church, where some of the screens and also the doorways are of his design. In No. 9 is to be seen a good fire-place. To the same architect also, Mr. Birch attributes “a very noble chimney-piece” in the house No. 25, Bishopsgate Street—Crosby Hall Chambers. It is a duty of rather mixed experience, the hunting up these relics, and the request to be admitted to see a room or hall upstairs is sometimes received suspiciously, but often enough very cordially. In some cases the City mind cannot understand the taste that prompts such inquiries. But on the whole there is a courtesy and cordiality of reception which is gratifying, the owner seeming flattered that his property should attract the notice of the curious. Mr. Birch, always a sympathetic observer, describes an old chamber in the Ward Schools of St. Botolph, Billingsgate, as a perfect gem, with its fine oak panels running round, in each panel an excellent painting in chiaro oscuro. Another imposing chamber is that one at Islington where the Directors of the New River Company meet, with its fine ceiling wrought with an oval in Inigo Jones’s manner. But in truth there is an abundance of these old apartments in London, stately, dignified, but comparatively unknown and difficult to find.
In Hanover Square and George Street there is quite a Dutch tone, as any one will see who pauses and glances from one house to the other. Removing the shops, in imagination, as well as the plaster with which the old brickwork has been encrusted, and peopling them with fine company, carriages waiting at the door, we can see what the old pattern was. Many are rich in pilasters and cornices, and it will be noted that most of the windows are slightly arched. They are, in fact, of the same pattern as some of the stately mansions in Grosvenor Square inhabited by the “nobility and gentry,” and would have the same effect if occupied by such tenants. A curious and elaborately adorned house stands on the right of the church—the fashionable St. George’s.
ROOM IN SIR PAUL PINDAR’S HOUSE.
To an artistic eye one of the pleasantest sights is an old-fashioned mansion standing in its garden, with an elegant gate of twisted iron, monograms, and a gilt helmet, it may be, interlaced, with sinuous leaves gracefully bent. Through its openings we see the straight flagged walk leading to the fan-shaped steps, with the smooth flowing rail of hammered iron, opening out in a graceful curve. The doorway is tall and narrow, with an overhanging cornice. The windows exhibit a feeling of design and balance. There are the high, the solidly imperishable carved eaves which no damp can penetrate. The whole has an air of grace; it suits its garden, and its garden suits it. Out at Clapton, nearly opposite to the Salvationist Barracks, is a house of this pattern; pleasing, if only as a survival of the well-designed suburban house, and which will well repay a walk. It is now a ladies’ school.