“The sound of the church-going bell”
was certain of being wafted to the Grange, which was got rid of in consequence.
From Michael’s Grove, Brompton Crescent is nearly a straight row of twenty-five houses, and forms an angle to the line of the main Fulham Road, uniting with Michael’s Place at “Crescent House,” where the carriage communication was formerly interrupted by a bar, in place of which a post supporting two lamps is now substituted.
No. 9 was for some time in the occupation of Dr. Oswald Wood, the translator (1835) of Von Hammer’s ‘History of the Assassins,’ and who died at the early age of thirty-eight, on the 5th of November, 1842, in the West Indies, where he held the appointment of Provost-Marshal of Antigua.
At No. 13 Brompton Crescent resided Charles Incledon, the rival of his neighbour Braham, whose singing he was wont to designate as “Italianised humbug;” declaring that no one but himself, Charles Incledon, knew how to sing a British ballad: and it must be admitted, that “The Storm” and “Black-eyed Susan,” as sung by Incledon, produced a deep impression on the public mind. He was a native of Cornwall, and the son of a medical gentleman. As a chorister, under the tuition of Jackson, in Exeter Cathedral, Incledon acquired his knowledge of music; for when he was fifteen he entered the Royal Navy, in which he served in the West Indies from 1779 to 1783, when he abandoned the naval profession, and joined a theatrical company at Southampton. After a popular professional career of upwards of forty years as a public singer, Incledon died at Worcester, on the 11th of February, 1826.
Of Incledon many amusing anecdotes are told, chiefly
caused by his inordinate vanity, and his mental singleness of purpose. He thought of no one but himself; he saw nothing beyond the one and immediate object at which he grasped; and yet these faults were caused rather by natural weakness of intellect than by an unkind or selfish disposition. In fact, Incledon lived and died a petted servant of the public; which administered intoxicating draughts of applause to his self-esteem.
Mr. G. Rodwell, already mentioned as having been an inhabitant of No. 14 Brompton Row, resided at No. 15 Brompton Crescent, in 1830.
No. 20 Brompton Crescent was, between the years 1822 and 1844, occupied by Mr. Planché, well known as, perhaps, the most prolific and skilful dramatic writer of the day, and as a gentleman of high literary and antiquarian attainments. His connexion with the last musical efforts of the German composer Weber, in his opera of ‘Oberon,’ which was produced at Covent Garden on the 12th of May, 1826, [65] cannot be forgotten; and to Planché’s knowledge of costume and taste for pictorial effects the English stage is deeply indebted. In the drawing-room of this house have some of our most agreeable acting dramas been composed, and nothing could have been, in its style and appointments, more typical of Planché’s dialogue than was the apartment—smart and neat, fit for all occasions, and suited in a moment to the present purpose, whatever that might be. It was polished and elegant; but there was nothing superfluous, beyond a bit of exquisite china on the
mantel-piece, or a picture, excellent in its way, on the wall; something which pleased the eye, and which the mind received and relished like a nicely-pointed joke. A well-painted portrait of Planché himself, by Briggs, the Royal Academician, which has been engraved, hung opposite to the fireplace; and, as if to carry out the similitude between Planché’s writings and the place where they were written, folding-doors revealed a back drawing-room, which, like his memory, was richly stored with the works of heralds and antiquaries, and of our elder dramatists and poets, so judiciously arranged, that in a moment he was certain of producing the precise passage or the effect which he desired. At the same time so completely was this little battery of knowledge masked under quaint bindings and tasteful covers, that no one suspected what a mine of learning lay beneath; nor, like his own mental resources, was a volume displayed without cause, or unclasped without its effect.