PARKS
HYDE PARK
“Is there a more gay and graceful spectacle in the world than Hyde
Park ... in the merry month of May or June?”--BEACONSFIELD.
The London parks certainly do not deserve the epithet “unnoticed,” but I
have met few people who knew anything about their story. Foreigners
coming to London for the first time always exclaim at their beauty, but
the Londoners take them as a matter of course, and hardly anyone stops
to inquire their history or even the reason for their names. Yet much of
the city’s history is bound up with that of the parks, and their story
is a mirror of the changing fashions of London.
Hyde Park, for instance--that vast space of 390 acres in the very heart
of the city, enjoyed by prince and plutocrat and pauper with equal
freedom so long as they keep on their feet, for the rule of the roadway
is not so democratic--what a tale it could tell of the brave sights it
has seen since it was first enclosed in 1592! Before Charles I.’s time
the park, that took its name from the Manor of Hyde, was only to be
enjoyed by the king and court, who hunted and hawked there; but in
Stuart days there were foot and horse races and drives and merry-making.
It has always been a favourite haunt of Mayfair. Evelyn used to “take
the aire in Hide Park,” very annoyed at having to pay one shilling and
sixpence for the privilege, and so did Pepys, obviously gratified that
his wife attracted attention. De Gramont, the witty observer of Charles
II.’s court, is quoted as saying: “Hyde Park everyone knows is the
promenade of London--the promenade of beauty and fashion.”
In the days of Charles II. all the world went to the Ring, a circular
course of about 350 yards laid out by the Merry Monarch, between the
Ranger’s Cottage and the present tea-house. How fashionable the drive
was Pepys tells us when he says: “Took up my wife and Deb and to the
park, where being in a hackney and they undressed, was ashamed to go
into the Tour but went round the park and so with pleasure home.”
In those days there was a cake-house, where cheese-cakes, syllabub and
tarts were sold--refreshments probably more attractive than those of
to-day.
Places of refreshment might so easily add enormously to the amenities of
the London parks and gardens if good food, attractively and quickly
provided, could be obtained. Nature has furnished an exquisite
background for a sylvan meal, but anyone who has ordered tea at one of
these places carries away a regret for what might have been. Perhaps
that is why it has never been fashionable to take tea in the park since
the Georgian days when people stood on chairs to see the beautiful Miss
Gunnings pass by.
The latest fashions were always worn first in Hyde Park. The daring of
any Paris _mannequin_ at the Grand Prix pales before the effect made by
the Lady Caroline Campbell of George III.’s reign, who “displayed in
Hyde Park the other day a feather four feet higher than her bonnet.”
In Victorian days the smart world strolled on the south walk between
Hyde Park Corner and Alexandra Gate, but to-day that is given over to
the curious strata of society, vomited up from a volcanic war, that now
fill the stalls in the theatres and the restaurants that used to call
themselves exclusive.
Fashion is slowly retiring--first to the part of the park opposite Park
Lane and then to the northern side opposite Lancaster Gate. Perhaps it
is making the tour, and when the profiteer and his family have
discovered that they are in sole possession of this south-east part of
the park, they will move off and the wheel will turn once more.
Why the big statue close to Hyde Park Corner is called the Achilles
Statue is one of London’s mysteries for which there is no more reason
than the nursemaid had when she familiarly designated Watts’ “Physical
Energy” in Kensington Gardens as “The Galloping Major.” “Achilles” is a
copy of one of the horse trainers of the Monte Cavallo in Rome. The Pope
gave the cast, the Ordnance Department gave the metal of the cannon
taken in the battles of Salamanca, Vittoria, Toulouse and Waterloo, and
the women of England subscribed £10,000 to this memorial of the Iron
Duke and his comrades-in-arms. Where Achilles comes in, I do not know.
Each of the great London parks is associated with some special English
sovereign. Charles II. is the godfather of St. James’s Park; Regent’s
Park, like Regent Street, was planned for the glorification of the man
who was afterwards George IV.; Battersea is associated with Prince
Albert the Good, and we owe Kew to the Princess Augusta, mother of
George III.
Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens owe their allegiance to Queen Caroline,
George II.’s queen. It was she who converted the ponds and the
Westbourne stream into the fifty acres of water of the Serpentine which,
now derived from the Thames, feeds the ornamental water in Buckingham
Palace Gardens and St. James’s Park. The king thought she was doing it
all out of her own purse and smiled at all her schemes, little dreaming
that with Walpole’s aid she was letting him in for some £20,000--a fact
he only discovered after her death.
Unfortunate Parisians, who are obliged to skirt the Tuileries gardens,
closed inexorably at seven o’clock on a summer evening, envy the
Londoner who may enjoy the leafy cool of his parks till long after dark,
the carriage entrances not being closed till midnight.
You may see an extraordinary number of quite different phases of English
life in Hyde Park. There are the loafers, including the errand boys and
that mysterious class of people who seem to have nothing to do in life
but “invite their soul” at eleven o’clock of a fine morning. Unless they
are content with a bench, the peace has made this feat more expensive
than it used to be, for when the price of everything else was happily
falling, the rusty individual who was wont to interrupt true lovers’
conversations by heartlessly demanding a penny, was suddenly inspired to
double the price of the chairs that have been hired in the park for the
last hundred years.
Then there is the gallant sight of Rotten Row, named from the Route du
Roi that William III. used when he rode from Whitehall to Kensington.
The present Rotten Row was made by George I. when he wanted a shorter
cut through the park. The best time to see the riders is the early
morning, and the bathers have to get up still earlier if they want to
plunge into the Serpentine, for the bathing is over at 8.30 a.m.
In the afternoon the Hyde Park orator comes into his own and the whole
of the Marble Arch corner turns into a factory for letting off steam. It
is let off by the partisans of different religions who vociferate side
by side, each demonstrating that his particular set of tenets is the
only means to salvation. It is let off by socialists and communists and
bolsheviks, and everyone who fancies he can alter the existing
conditions to his own advantage,--and behind all these fiery-tongued
speechmakers stand the placid good-natured policemen who look on with
all the indulgence of a kindly nurse towards a fractious child,
answering an amused inquiry with a paternal: “It don’t ’urt anyone and
it does them a power of good to get it off their chests!”
Among the phases to be noticed are the picnic parties who come to the
park prepared to make a day of it, and the children of every class of
society, and the nursemaids whose very name reminds one of his Majesty’s
forces both military and naval, who are also ardent patrons of the park.
There are many minor points of interest,--the queer little dogs’
cemetery near the Victoria Gate on the north side, the dell, a
sub-tropical garden near the east end of the Serpentine not far from the
fountain with the charming Artemis statue--but the most delightful way
to see the park at its very best is to go there in the early morning
carrying a picnic breakfast and take a boat at the boathouse south of
the rangers’ lodge. I have always envied the park ranger who lives in
this mansion. The first of his race was appointed by Henry VIII. at the
princely salary of sixpence a day, but when this was objected to by the
Government economy enthusiasts of that time, it was reduced to
fourpence.
The tiny stone cottages of the keepers, with the classic architecture
that makes them look so ridiculously important, are not really the
smallest houses in London. I think that honour must surely belong to the
porter’s lodge at the Fetter Lane entrance to the Record Office, unless
you count as a house No. 10, Hyde Park Place. Though it certainly has a
street door all to itself, it has only one room.
The park authority, so careless when it is a matter of eating and
drinking, is careful to provide more artistic pleasures for the Hyde
Park crowds. Bands play there on many summer evenings--the announcements
are made in the Press--and now and then the League of Arts arranges an
entertainment, when thousands of people flock to see the Morris dancing
or some old play performed with a background of green trees.
KENSINGTON GARDENS
“Sometimes a child will cross the glade.”
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
Henry James once expressed the opinion that the view from the bridge
that crosses the Serpentine where Hyde Park joins Kensington Gardens has
an “extraordinary nobleness,” and there is something indescribably
beautiful and unexpected about it. The grey buildings in the distance
look like some palace of the _fata morgana_ over the shimmering water.
I do not know if Sir James Barrie is responsible for the feeling that
you would not be surprised at anything that might happen in Kensington
Gardens. Who would be bold enough to assert that when the last child has
left the Peter Pan statue the squirrels do not come and play with their
stone brothers? Kensington Gardens are the paradise of the child and the
flower lover. There are ugly things in it, of course, like the Albert
Memorial, though everyone does not think it ugly: I was once startled at
hearing that souvenir of Victorian taste fervently admired by some
fellow bus passengers. But the Serpentine, and the Round Pond on a sunny
morning when the fleet is engaged in serious manœuvres--and the Broad
Walk: Wren’s orangery--the lovely sunk garden with its pleached walk of
lime trees with the avenue Queen Caroline planted--and above all, the
Flower Walk in the sunlit air after a shower,--if visitors to London
have time for nothing else they should carry away a memory of Kensington
Gardens.
GREEN PARK AND ST. JAMES’S
“Satirists may say what they please about the rural enjoyments of a
London citizen on Sunday.”--W. IRVING.
Walking along Piccadilly from Hyde Park Corner on the “sulky” side, as
Mr. Street calls it in his charming _Ghosts of Piccadilly_, many
[Illustration: PETER PAN STATUE IN KENSINGTON GARDENS]
people wonder at the meaning of the ledge on the curb of the pavement
nearly opposite the entrance to 128, Piccadilly. It owes its existence
to a benevolent old clubman who, from his comfortable window armchair,
noticed the porters bearing heavy burdens on their backs and toiling up
the slope of Piccadilly. The ledge was fixed at the right height, so
that they might rest their burdens without unfastening them.
Green Park was once much larger than its present sixty acres or so, but
George III. took some of it in 1767 to enlarge the gardens of old
Buckingham House. It is now the happy hunting-ground of the gentlemen
who love to lie full length on the grass--the not inconsiderable army of
people who would dread communism if they ever thought about anything,
and would bitterly regret under any other régime the halcyon days when
the out-of-work dole of a benevolent government of bourgeois permitted
these free Britons to lounge at peace.
Their presence is perhaps the reason why the Green Park is not a
fashionable rendezvous, like Hyde Park, although some of the great
London houses, Stafford House, Bridgewater House, Spencer House, etc.,
border it on the east side. The wrought iron and gilded gates bearing
the Cavendish crest and motto that were formerly used as the entrance to
Devonshire House have now been placed in Green Park opposite the
building they guarded so long. These beautiful old gates have had a
chequered history. Seven generations ago, in the eighteenth century,
they began their existence at Turnham Green, where they guarded the
approach to the house of the second Lord Egmont and bore the arms of the
Perceval family. The house changed owners and was pulled down, and in
1838 the gates were bought by the sixth Duke of Devonshire for his
Chiswick house. They stayed there for fifty-nine years, before they came
to spend a brief quarter of a century watching the ebb and flow of
Piccadilly.
The Duke of Devonshire already had beautiful gates at Chiswick when he
bought these, for the Earl of Burlington who got the house in 1727 and
whose daughter and sole heiress married a Duke of Devonshire, was also a
connoisseur in gates, and had begged a beautiful pair of Inigo Jones
design from Sir Hans Sloane, who did not appreciate them. When they were
being moved, Pope wrote:
_Passenger._ Oh Gate! how cam’st thou here?
_Gate._ I was brought from Chelsea last year,
Battered with wind and weather;
Inigo Jones put me together,
Sir Hans Sloane
Let me alone,
So Burlington brought me hither.
Green Park has another gate, part of which I am sure is unnoticed, for
how many people know that in the Wellington Arch at the top of
Constitution Hill, at the upper end of the Green Park, sixteen
policemen and an inspector have their happy home. Their special task is
to direct the traffic at Hyde Park Corner, no easy matter in the season
or when the king and queen and other notabilities come driving out to
take the air. From their bedroom in the Arch they can climb on to the
wide flat top, and under the shadow of the splendid group of Peace in
her flying chariot, look over a wonderful vista of park and palace and
highway.
ST. JAMES’S PARK
“La beauté de Londres n’est pas dans ses monuments mais dans son
immensité.”--ZOLA.
What would old Lenôtre, Louis XIV.’s court gardener, who laid out St.
James’s Park, think if he could see his handiwork to-day? He would make
a witty jest of it, perhaps, for he was a charming old man of a
guileless simplicity that made him beloved of everyone, even in the most
artificial court in Europe. Charles II. invited the famous French
landscape gardener, who had created Versailles out of a sandhill, to
come and transform the swampy meadow that adjoined the palace Henry
VIII. had fashioned out of the twelfth-century Lepers Hospital,
dedicated to St. James the Less, which has given its name to the palace
and park.
St. James’s has always been a very royal park since the days when the
young Princess Elizabeth rode through it from her father’s new palace
to the court at Whitehall, attended “with a very honourable confluence
of noble and worshipful persons of both sexes.” Charles I. took his last
walk through it on his way to the scaffold in Whitehall. Charles II.
spent much of his time playing with his dogs and feeding his ducks
there, and he planted some of the oaks from the acorns of the royal oak
at Boscobel. His aviary on the south side is still remembered in the
name of Birdcage Walk, and the tradition is carried on by the aquatic
birds that again haunt the ornamental water as before the war.
Walpole in his reminiscences quotes George I. as saying:
This is a strange country. The first morning after my arrival at
St. James’s, I looked out of the window, and saw a park with walls,
canal, etc., which they told me were mine. The next day, Lord
Chetwynd the Ranger of _my_ Park, sent me a fine brace of carp out
of _my_ canal; and I was told I must give five guineas to Lord
Chetwynd’s servant for bringing me _my own_ carp out of _my own_
canal _in my own garden_.
I always loved, too, the reply of Walpole’s father to Queen Caroline
when she asked how much it would cost to close St. James’s Park for the
royal use and he answered, “only three crowns, Madam.”
REGENT’S PARK
“London is before all things an incomparable background.”--F. M.
HUEFFER.
Regent’s Park to most people spells the Zoo, the place where one may see
the best menagerie in the world. It is the successor of Marylebone Park,
a royal hunting-ground until Cromwell’s day. It was laid out in its
present style after 1812 by Nash, the man who designed Regent Street,
and named after the Prince Regent, who thought he would build a country
house here.
It is so far removed from Mayfair that its glories have been neglected,
but now that fashion has drifted north of Hyde Park and even Bloomsbury
is having its recrudescence, Regent’s Park may wake up any day and find
itself famous. It is beautifully laid out and tended, and garden lovers
from other lands will like it immensely if they take a tube to Baker
Street and spend an hour or so there, either boating on the lovely lake
or walking in the gardens.
The Royal Botanic Gardens, enclosed by a circular walk, are reached from
York Street by a road running north between Bedford Women’s College and
the Toxophilite Society (which ordinary people are content to call the
Archery Club). It is only open to the general public on Mondays and
Saturdays on payment of one shilling.
On this west side of the park is St. Dunstan’s Lodge, the home of Mr.
and Mrs. Otto Kahn, who gave their house for some years to the late Sir
Arthur Pearson for his hostel for the education of the blind.
It was once the home of the Marquess of Hertford, who was the original
of Thackeray’s Marquis of Steyne in _Vanity Fair_
BATTERSEA PARK
“It takes London of all cities to give you such an impression of
the country.”--HENRY JAMES.
Battersea Park is another of London’s lovely gardens. It takes its name
from the old parish and manor of Battersea, a gradual corruption of the
Patricesy or Peter’s Isle, by which it was known in Domesday Book as
belonging to the Abbey of St. Peter at Westminster.
There is nothing very interesting historically about the park, as it was
only laid out in 1852, on Battersea Fields, the scene of a duel in 1829
between the Duke of Wellington and the Marquis of Winchelsea, but it is
one of the favourite parks of London and the only one that fringes the
borders of the Thames. It has a lovely sunk garden, that is a dream of
beauty in the summer time, and letters are always appearing in the
papers about the birds that nest among its trees. Four of the 188 acres
are laid out as a sub-tropical garden. There is a lake with rowing
boats to hire, and arrangements are made for cricket and other sports.
If the park has no history, one can find curious bits of old London
quite close to it by turning out of the west gate and asking the way to
Church Road, off the Battersea Bridge Road, and near the river. First
there is the old church of St. Mary’s, ugly enough in itself, but it was
where William Blake was married, and where Turner used to sketch the
wonderful effects on the Thames. Lovers of quaint epitaphs will find a
delicious one composed by himself to the famous Henry St. John, Lord
Bolingbroke, who “was Secretary of State under Queen Anne and in the
days of King George I. and King George II. something more and better.”
Lord Bolingbroke was a true Battersea man, for he was born there in 1678
and died in 1751. His second wife, who shares the honour of his
monument, was a niece of Madame de Maintenon. Battersea has been closely
connected with the St. John family for four hundred years, though they
sold their manor to the Spencers in 1763. A bit of it may still be seen
in the adjoining flour mills, where, I believe, it is possible to see
the wonderful ceiling and staircase, and the lovely cedar-panelled room
overlooking the river, where Pope wrote his _Essay on Man_.
KEW GARDENS
“Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn’t far from London).”
ALFRED NOYES.
Kew is too far afield to be called unnoticed London, but it is the most
wonderful of all the London gardens and so easy to reach that to miss it
would be a matter for perpetual regret.
Anyone can tell you the way to get there: either from Waterloo to Kew
Bridge, when you will have to walk across the bridge to get to the main
entrance of the gardens, or by the District Railway to Kew Gardens
station, or by tram from Hammersmith.
There is so much to see there that over-much direction destroys the
greatest pleasure of finding out what you like best, and everyone has
his own opinion as to what time of the year the gardens are most
beautiful. The poet loves “Kew in lilac-time,” the lover of gorgeous
colour goes down to see the regiments of tulips, massed as they are
nowhere else outside Holland. Kew in rhododendron and azalea time ought
not to be missed, but I think the loveliest sight of all is Kew in
bluebell time, when it looks as if a bit of the sky had fallen
earthwards on either side of the Queen’s Walk, and in the middle of the
wilderness you come across the deserted little ivy-clad cottage, the sea
of blue sweeping up to the very door to which no pathway now leads.
It was once the Queen’s Cottage, built by George III. for Queen
Charlotte, in the days when they led the domestic existence that Fanny
Burney described in her _Diary_; but no one now uses it and it stands
there with a mute air of resignation at its fallen fortunes, little
dreaming how much its unexpected beauty adds to the pleasure of the
discoverer of this lovely corner.
Kew, like the other parks, had its royal origin. Its founder was the
Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, the wife of Frederick Prince of Wales,
who, eight years after her husband’s death, interested herself in the
laying out of the exotic garden at Kew that was the nucleus of the vast
collection of 24,000 different varieties of plants.
Kew has always been beloved by artists. Sir Peter Lely had a house at
Kew Green and Johann Zoffany the painter, whose fame has so lately been
augmented by the publication of his life and memoirs, lived in Zoffany
House at Strand-on-the-Green, a delightful old-world riverside village
close to Kew Bridge. He is buried in the early eighteenth-century church
of St. Ann, where Gainsborough also lies.
And now come back to London and I will show you a Lilliputian park I am
sure you have never noticed. It is so tiny; long ago it was the
churchyard of St. Botolph without Aldersgate, dedicated to that kindly
patron of all travellers, but now it is a charming retreat with an
additional attraction that I leave you to discover, and because it is so
close to the General Post Office it is always called The Postman’s
Park.
There are other lovely unnoticed oases of green round about London town;
Brockwell Park with its fine old walled garden, and Dulwich and
Southwark. Their tales must wait for another time, for now it only
remains for me to say with Pope:
Dear, damn’d, distracting town, farewell.
INDEX
“Achilles” Statue, 199, 200
“Adam and Eve” public-house, 184
Adam, the brothers, 48, 49
Addison, 10, 25, 109, 156, 168
Adelphi, 48, 49
Admiralty, old home of, 76
Albert Memorial, 204
Albert, Prince, 200
All Hallows, Barking, 73, 74
Anne, Queen, 124, 135
Apothecaries’ Society, 18
Ascham, Roger, 115
Ashburnham House, 169
Augusta, Princess, 200, 215
Bacon, Sir Francis, 107, 113, 156
Barking, Convent of, 74
Battersea Manor, 213
Baxter, 135
Bedford, Duke of, 34
_Beggar’s Opera_, 114, 122
Bells of St. Clement’s, 50, 53, 54
Bess of Hardwicke, 8
Bible, revisers of, 167
Birdcage Walk, 210
Black Prince, 24, 56, 86
Blackstone, 60
Blake, Admiral, 170
Blake, William, 213
Bolingbroke, Lord, 213
Bond, Sir Thomas, 27
Boniface, Archbishop, 142, 144
Botanic Gardens, Royal, 211
Bracegirdle, Mrs., 168
Brompton Road, 25
Brooke, Rupert, MS. of, 178
Browne, William, 7
Brummell, Beau, 34
Buckingham, Dukes of, 43, 44
Buckingham Street, 42-46
Buns and Bunhill Place, 14
Burke, 36
Burney, Dr., 10
Burney, Fanny, 10, 121, 215
Butler, Samuel, 136
Campbell, Lady Caroline, 199
Campbell, Thomas, 122
Caroline, Queen, 200, 204, 210
Carthusian Monks, 151, 152
Catherine of Braganza, 11, 18
Cellini, Benvenuto, 133
Charing Cross, 40-42, 158
Charles I., 210;
statue of, 41, 160, 196
Charles II., 9, 13, 83, 96, 116, 128, 129, 139, 198, 200, 209, 210
Charlotte, Queen, 34, 215
Charterhouse:
as mansion, 148, 151-5;
as school and hospital, 155-7;
features, 157
Charterhouse scholars, 156
Chaucer, 38, 42, 56, 73, 85
Cheapside, 84, 85, 90-93
Chelsea:
Belgian refugees, 4, 7;
buns, 14;
Burney, Dr., 10;
Carlyle’s house, 12;
Charles II., 9, 11;
Cheyne Walk, 8, 11, 12;
communications, 1, 20;
Crosby Hall, 4, 7, 8, 17;
Danvers, Lady, 17;
famous inhabitants, 10-12, 22, 23;
Flower Show, 19, 20;
Gwynne, Nell, 8-10, 13;
Hospital and pensioners, 10, 12;
James, Henry, 13, 16;
King’s Road, 9;
More’s Gardens, 4;
More, Sir Thomas, 2-4, 7, 8, 15;
Old Church, 14-17;
Paradise Row, 8;
Physic Garden, 17-19;
Ranelagh Gardens, 21, 22;
restaurants, 14;
Sandford Manor House, 9, 10;
shops, 14;
studios, 23
Chesterfield, Lord, 21
Church bells, lore of, 53, 75, 84
Churches:
All Hallows, Barking, 73, 74;
Bow, 84-87;
Chelsea Old Church, 14-17;
Holy Trinity, Knightsbridge, 26;
Moravian Chapel, Nevill’s Court, 134, 135;
St. Anne’s, Soho, 36, 37;
St. Bartholomew’s, Smithfield, 141-4;
St. Clement Danes, 49, 50, 53-55;
St. Clement’s, Eastcheap, 50;
St. Ethelburga’s, 87;
St. Etheldreda’s Chapel, 112-14;
St. James’s, Piccadilly, 33;
St. Margaret’s, Westminster, 170, 171;
St. Mary-le-Strand, 46;
St. Mary’s, Battersea, 213;
St. Olave’s, 74-77;
St. Supulchre’s, Holborn, 114, 115, 137;
Temple, 63, 64
Cicill, Master Robert, 55
City churches, 87, 88, 93
City Companies, 93-102:
Bowyers, 94;
Clothworkers, 99, 100;
Drapers, 99;
Fishmongers, 99, 101, 102;
Fletchers, 94;
Goldsmiths, 99, 101, 102, 166;
Grocers, 99, 101;
Hatters and Haberdashers, 95, 99, 100;
Horners, 94;
Ironmongers, 99, 194;
Lorriners, 94;
Mercers, 99, 100, 101;
Merchant Taylors, 99, 100, 157;
Pattenmakers, 94;
Salters, 99;
Skinners, 99;
Stationers, 102;
Upholders, 94;
Vintners, 99, 100
City Guilds and their halls, 99-102
Clifford’s Inn, 136
Coal Exchange, 71, 72
Cockney, true home of, 84
Coke, Sir Edward, 113, 136, 156
Collingwood Street, 134
Commons, first meeting-place of, 162
Congreve, 168
Coram, Captain Thomas, 179-80
Court Leet, 56, 57
Cranmer, Archbishop, 79, 113
Cromwell, Oliver, 128, 160
“Crooked Billet” inn, 78
Curfew at Lincoln’s Inn, 130
“Czar’s Head” tavern, 47
Davies, Mary, 55
Delaney, Mrs., 178
De Montfort, Simon, 162
De Morgan, William, 12
Devonshire, Duchess of, 22
Devonshire House gates, 207, 208
Dickens, 178, 180, 185
Dickensian London, 45, 67, 69, 77, 93, 106, 117, 122
Domesday Book, 2, 133, 165
Donne, Dr. 16, 17, 129
Dorchester, Earl of, 34
Dover Street, 27, 28, 29
Dryden, 36, 169
Durham House, 48, 49, 152
Dutch pictures, 191, 193
Ebury, Manor of, 55
Edward III., 85, 86, 91
Elgin Marbles, 175-7
Eliot, George, 11
Elizabeth, Queen, 8, 28, 29, 65, 70, 75, 101, 108, 153-5, 209
Ely, Bishops of, 28, 29
Ely Place, an old-world corner, 111, 112
Erasmus, 4
Essex, Earl of, 47, 132
Evans, William, 116
Evelyn, John, 18, 27, 28, 44, 46, 47, 128, 198
Felton, Lavinia, 122
Fielding, 10, 45
Fire, the Great:
devastating effects, 138, 140;
Evelyn’s account, 138, 139;
origin, 138;
Pepys and, 76, 100, 138;
rapid reconstruction, 140, 101
Fleet Street, 57, 58, 84
Flemish carvings, 125;
MSS., 124, 125;
pictures, 193
Flowers for criminals, 114
Foundling Hospital, 178-80, 183-85
Fragonard, pictures by, 192
Franklin, Benjamin, 102
French pictures, 192
Furniture, 187, 188, 193, 194
Gainsborough, 184, 215
Garrick, David, 34
Gaskell, Mrs., 11
Gaunt, John of, 56, 113
Geffrye, Sir Robert, 194
George I., 210
George II., 184, 189
George III., 207, 215
George IV., 33, 200
Gibbons, Grinling, carvings by, 13, 33, 83, 105, 160, 195, 196
Giltspur Street, 114, 137
Gog and Magog, 97, 98
Goldsmith, Oliver, 22, 60, 63, 66, 67
Grafton, Duchess of, 34
Gray’s Inn, 107-10
Gresham, Sir Thomas, 94, 101
Greuze, pictures by, 192
Grey, Lady Jane, 49, 80, 131, 138, 152
Grosvenor, Sir Thomas, 55
Guildhall, 97, 98;
Library, 98, 99;
Museum, 99
Gwynne, Nell, 9, 10, 13, 122
Halifax, Lord, 34
Hamilton, Lady, 38
Handel, 178, 184, 185, 189
Hatton, Christopher, 28, 29, 65, 113
Hatton Garden, 28, 29, 110, 111, 179
Haweis, Rev. H. R., 11
Haymarket Shoppe, 33, 35
Hazlitt, 37
Henry III., 130, 144
Henry IV., 91, 167
Henry VIII., 3, 4, 16, 53, 77, 78, 80, 99, 100, 113, 132, 170, 209
Henry, Prince of Wales, 58, 59
Herbert, George, 17, 169
Hertford, Marquesses of, 190, 191, 212
Heywood, John, 3
Hobbema, pictures by, 193
Hogarth, 123, 125, 178, 179, 183, 184
Holbein, 4
Holywell Street, 70
Horse Guards, 159, 161
House of the Converts, 130, 131
Howard, Lord Thomas, 155
Howard, Philip, 154, 155
Howard, Thomas, 153
Hudson, Sir Jeffrey, 116
Huguenots, 19, 37
Hume, David, 45
Hungerford Market, 42
Hunt, Leigh, 12
Hyde Park orators, 201, 202
Inns of Court, 126, 127
James I., 58, 80, 155, 156, 160
Jewellery collections, 189
Jewellery, Jacobean, 32, 99
Johnson, Dr., 21, 22, 36, 39, 54, 63, 66, 105, 148, 158
Jones, Inigo, 34, 48, 118, 121, 129, 160, 169, 208
Jonson, Ben, 7, 126, 169
Kew Gardens, seasons of, 214
Kingsland Road, 194
Kingsley, Charles and Henry, 11
Kit-Cat Club, 109, 110
Kneller, 184
Knights Hospitallers of St. John, 147, 148
Knightsbridge, 24-26
Knockers, sanctuary, 75
Lamb, Charles, 60, 63, 66, 67
Lambeth Palace, 144
Lancaster House (London Museum), 29-32
Lawson, Cecil, 11
Lectures, museum, 174;
their value, 186
Legh Cup, 101
Leicester House, 37
Lely, Sir Peter, 215
Lenôtre, 209
Leverhulme, Lord, 31
Libraries:
Guildhall, 98, 99;
King’s, 174, 175;
Lincoln’s Inn, 129
Lincoln’s Inn:
entrance, 126;
history and features, 128-30
Lincoln’s Inn Fields:
gardens, 117, 118;
houses, 118, 121, 122;
theatre, 122
Lindsay House, 121
Loafers, park, 201, 207
Lody, Charles, 83
London Bridge, relics of, 89, 102
London Parochial Charities, 18, 19
London Stone, 70
Lord Mayor, prestige of, 96;
procession and banquet, 97
Lovel, Sir Thomas, 126, 128
Maclise, David, 11
Manny, Sir Walter, 151, 152
Mansion Houses, 88-90
MSS., illuminated, 124, 188
Marble Arch, 103
Mary, Queen, going-away dress of, 32
Mary Queen of Scots, 8, 131, 153, 154, 175
Maypoles, 25, 50
Mazarin, Duchess de, 8, 9
Medici, Marie de, 91
Mercers’ Chapel, 88
Merchant’s House, seventeenth century, 73
Meredith, George, 11
Mews, Royal, 42
Milton, 118, 122
“Mitre” Inn, 112
Mohun, Lord, 36
Monmouth, Duke of, 37, 129
Monument, 71
More, Sir Thomas, 2-4, 7, 15, 38, 79, 80, 129
Museum houses, 12
Museum, how to see, 173
Museums:
British, 172-178;
Geffrye, 193-96;
Guildhall, 99;
London, 29-32;
Royal College of Surgeons, 122;
Soane, 123-26;
South Kensington, 118, 185-89;
United Services’, 158-60;
Wallace Collection, 190-93
Musical instruments, 188, 189
Napoleonic souvenirs, 124, 160
Nash, 211
Nevill’s Court, 133-35
Norfolk, Duke of, 15
North, Sir Edward, 152, 153
Oldfield, Nance, 168
Old Watling Restaurant, 90
Orleans, Charles d’, 80
Panier Alley, 116
Parish registers, 55
Parks:
Battersea, 212, 213;
Brockwell, 216;
Green, 207-9;
Hyde:
dogs’ cemetery, 202;
life, 199, 201, 202;
lodges, 202, 203;
music and dancing, 203;
mysterious statues, 199, 200;
past and present, 197-99;
Serpentine, 200, 201;
Kensington Gardens, 203, 204;
Kew Gardens, 214, 215;
Postman’s, 215;
Regent’s, 211, 212;
St. James’s, 209, 210
Paving of London, 104
Pearson, Sir Arthur, 212
Pembroke, Countess of, 7
Pepys, 8, 39, 44, 74, 75, 76, 77, 100, 104, 107, 122, 128, 129, 170, 198
Persian MSS., 188
Peter Pan Statue, 204
Peter the Great, 45-7, 72, 124, 127, 128
Petersham, Lord, 35
Philippa, Queen, 85, 86
Pickering Place, 30
Plane tree, Wood Street, 92
Pope, 28, 109, 208, 213, 216
Port of London Authority’s tower, 77
Prince Henry’s Room, 57, 58
Princes, the Little, 80
Prior, Matthew, 168, 169
Punch, 42
Pye Corner, 138
Queen’s Cottage, Kew, 214, 215
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 58, 59, 79, 80, 132, 170
Ranelagh Club, 21, 109
Ranelagh Gardens, 21, 22
Raphael cartoons, 184, 187
Record Office treasures, 130-33
Refreshments, park, 198, 199
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 22, 36, 183, 184, 190
Richard II., 132, 167
Roman baths, 57, 66, 69, 70, 72
Roman London, 68-70, 72, 77
Romney, 190
Roper, William, 2, 7
Roses, York and Lancaster, 64, 65
Rossetti, the brothers, 11
Rotten Row, 201
Rousseau, 45, 124
Royalty and parks, 200
Rubens, paintings by, 160, 193
Russell, Lord, of Killowen, 34
Russians in Bow Church, 87
St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, 137
St. Dunstan’s Lodge, 212
St. James’s Palace, 30
St. John’s Gate, 147, 148
Savoy Chapel Royal and Manor, 55, 56
Sayes Court, Deptford, 46
Sculpture in British Museum, 175-7
Seething Lane, 74, 76, 77
Serpentine bathers, 201
Shakespearean London, 53, 64, 65, 70, 71, 110, 113, 167
Shrewsbury, Lady, 34
Sidney, Sir Philip, 132
Sloane, Sir Hans, 4, 18, 173, 208
Smith, Captain John, 115
Smithfield, 137, 141
Snuff-takers, 33, 34
Soane Museum, peculiarities of, 123-26
Soane, Sir John, 123-25
Soho, a king’s grave in, 35, 37
Spenser, 64
Stanley, Dean, 165
Staple Inn, Holborn, 105, 106
Steele, Sir Richard, 44, 156
Stone effigies, 115, 116, 137, 138
Strand, 40, 42, 47, 49
Strand Lane, 57, 69
Street names, lore of, 85, 93
Sutherland, Duke of, 31
Sutton, Sir Thomas, 155, 156
Swan, device and sign, 91, 92
Swift, 14
Symons, Arthur, 67
Tattersall’s, 26, 27
Temple:
Church, 63, 64;
entrances, 60, 63;
Fountain Court, 67;
Hall, 65;
memories, 60, 63, 64-67
Tennant Collection, 192
Tennyson, Lord, 122
Thackeray, 63, 156, 191, 212
Thornhill, Sir James, 196
Thynne, Thomas, 121
Thynne, William, 73, 74
Tonson, Jacob, publisher, 109, 110
Took’s Court, 106
Tower of London, 79, 80, 83
Trade unions, past and present, 94, 95
Trafalgar Square, 42
Trinity House, 76-78
Turner, 11, 124, 213
Turner, Sir William, 88, 89
Tyburn, 104, 114, 152
Tyler, Wat, 147
Wallace, Sir Richard, 191
Walpole, Horace, 10, 21, 22, 36, 109, 196, 200, 210
War relics of the services, 160
Wardrobe Court, 134
Water Gates:
Buckingham Street, 43, 48;
Essex House, 47
Watling Street, 68, 90
Watteau, 125
Watts’s “Lawgivers” fresco, 129;
“Physical Energy” statue, 200
Webb, 169
Wellington Arch, 208, 209
Wesley and Whitefield, 135
Westbourne Stream, 24, 25, 200
Westminster Abbey:
Chapel of the Pyx, 165, 166;
Chapter House, 162, 165;
funeral effigies, 166;
Jericho Room, 167;
Jerusalem Chamber, 167, 168;
Little Cloister, 166, 167
Westminster, Dukes of, 55
Westminster School, 168, 169
Whistler, 11, 12
Whitehall Palace, remains of, 160
Whittington, 84, 96, 101
William III., 46, 89, 121, 188
Williamson’s Hotel, 89, 90
Window, east, of St. Margaret’s, 170, 171
Wolsey, Cardinal, 132
Wonders, World’s, in British Museum, 176
Wood Street, 32, 92, 93
Woodwork, old, 72
Wren, Sir Christopher, 33, 53, 54, 60, 71, 86, 88,
100, 114, 124, 141, 160, 169, 204
York House and its tenants, 44
Young, Launcelot, 92, 93
Zoffany, Johann, 215
Zoological Gardens, 211
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