OLD DOORWAY, WHITTINGTON’S HOUSE.
In Hatton Garden there are many doorways of different types. Grecian triangular pediments supported on bold Ionic columns, and forming bold porches. The rusticated style, too, is found here in abundance. Nos. 81 and 102 are worth looking at.
Wandering down the wharves at Lambeth, and hard by the hideous iron bridge, where we expect to find marble yards and trusses of hay and mounds of coal, we come on a magnificent doorway, richly carved and of the shell pattern; carved, also, are its pilasters. This work seems as sound as it was on the day it was set up. In Essex Street, Strand, on the right hand as we go down, we shall find some half a dozen doorways of merit, each of a different pattern and offering curious variety of treatment. In the City, close to Tower Hill, and in Seething Lane, and in quiet St. Catherine’s Court, we shall find some really imposing doorways, some grouped and thus made more effective. So also in Broad Street, off New Oxford Street. In Soho, once a fashionable quarter, in Gerrard Street and in Dean Street, there are some fine examples. There are some hundreds, in short, to be discovered in London; and they are well worth searching for.
At No. 8, Grosvenor Square, will be noted some airy and elegant treatment of old-fashioned iron railings, and which have been but little restored. It is not, moreover, limited to the doorway, but extends along the area. There are many doorways in London where a bit of “flourish” connects the brick wall next the door with the iron railing of the area with not unpleasing effect. In Greek Street, Soho, there are many of a solid kind, and we have mentioned how rich the adjoining Dean Street is in such entrances. These all speak of stately mansions to correspond, fine stairs, and spacious halls.[27]
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHELSEA AND FULHAM.
EVERY Londoner of taste should make himself familiar with his river, ever placidly winding on and offering a spectacle of grace that never palls. It supplies a constant suggestion of rural beauty, even if we go no further in search of it than to Battersea, where there is a quaint Dutch tone. At Chelsea its many fitful changings begin. But even here, within a few years, what violent alterations, and how much has been lost! Here, for instance, is a sketch which I made not very many years ago, which is scarcely recognizable now.
“Beyond Battersea Bridge the tiled houses begin at once; the footways along the banks are sternly blocked, and we begin to see those charming slopes and swards, and snatches of old houses playing hide and seek with us between the trees. Here, we might, as it were, suddenly awaken one who has travelled much, and ask him, as he rubs his eyes, to name the river abroad on which he is sailing; to say whether it was the Dutch or German portion of the Rhine, the Meuse, or any other important river. To the eye not too much familiarized, it has a curiously foreign air. But as we glide on and draw in to shore we observe a shaded walk, sheltered by two rows of tall trees. On a long, irregular pier, not of the correct hewn stone, modern pattern, but of earth and wood, or piles, and through the trees and that delightful shade which dapples all the walk in patterns, though outside it the sun is blazing fiercely, we see figures promenading, and beyond them as background—a cosy row of red brick houses—an old-fashioned terrace, of the brick of Queen Anne’s special hue, with twisted iron railings and gates in front. At the edge of the road in front of the trees is an irregular wooden railing, against which loungers rest. Below them are boats drawn up. As we glide on we come to the centre, where the trees open, and a little suspension pier juts out to let the steamers land passengers; and behind the pier the terrace breaks into a crescent. Here we land, and find ourselves on ‘Cheyne Walk, Chelsea.’ The whole has the air of one of those Dutch views we see in picture shops. There is a deal of grass-green paint; Dutch-built barges of a varnished yellow lying low in the water; and as we walk along in the shade the strong Dutch smell ‘grows,’ as from the canals, and makes the delusion stronger. One would like to live in this Cheyne Walk, as many great people did a long time ago, and as Maclise did only yesterday. There is his house, with a little garden in front, as they all have, and a gate of elegant iron tracery, with initials and flowers worked in. Inside they are all panels and stucco, with noble chimney-pieces, and gardens behind, stretching far back with shady trees, and some a fountain.