Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
PICTURESQUE LONDON.
INSCRIBED
WITH MUCH REGARD
TO
THE RIGHT HON. DAVID PLUNKET, M.P.,
FIRST COMMISSIONER OF WORKS
[Illustration]
_Picturesque London_
_BY_
_Percy Fitzgerald, M.A., F.S.A._
_ILLUSTRATED BY_
W. HATHERELL,
A. W. HENLEY,
W. C. KEENE,
HUME NISBET,
HERBERT RAILTON,
G. SEYMOUR,
W. F. YOUNG, ETC.
_With a Frontispiece in Photogravure of_
“_THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT_.”
(_From a Drawing by_ HUME NISBET.)
London:
WARD & DOWNEY,
1890.
PREFACE.
In the following pages I have attempted to describe the numerous
artistic treasures and beauties of London. These attractions are so
abundant and varied, that I have not been able to do more than select
specimens, as it were, of each class; but enough has been given to
inspire the reader with an eagerness to set out, and make these
discoveries for himself. The aim throughout has been to show that the
Metropolis is as well furnished with “the picturesque” as any foreign
city, and that there is much that is romantic and interesting, which,
without a sympathetic guide, might escape notice. There are various
modes of “seeing sights.” One, the most common, is the regular official
method “the Guide Book;” when the stranger goes round, and stares, and
takes care that he sees each object set down in his Book. No fruit or
profit comes from this process, which leaves a feeling of tediousness.
How welcome, on the other hand, is some living guide, the friend that
knows the subject, that can point out the special merits and beauties
with sympathy, describe in a few words why this or that is attractive,
or admired. What was before a mere blank mass of details, now becomes
vivified, and has meaning; something of this kind is, in a small way,
attempted here.
These “Travels in London” have been the result of many years’
exploration. I have always found a never-failing pastime to observe as I
walked, and made expeditions into far off and little known quarters,
rarely without discovering something novel and unexpected. I must add,
however, that these records do not pretend to be at all in the nature of
a “guide,” or to supply historical or archæological information. They
simply register impressions.
In the same spirit the Illustrations have been selected, so as to convey
the artistic feeling with which the various scenes impress us. I am
conscious too of shortcomings, especially when I think of the
conscientious labours of Peter Cunningham, Thornbury, and Walford,
though in another department of the subject; but these, I trust, will be
excused in consideration of the goodwill and enthusiasm, in which the
work has been carried out.
P. F.
_Athenæum Club_,
_September, 1890._
CONTENTS.
I.--ST. MARGARET’S CHURCH, WESTMINSTER 1
II.--THE WESTMINSTER TOBACCO-BOX--THE WESTMINSTER PLAY 9
III.--ASHBURNHAM HOUSE--THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, &c. 16
IV.--WESTMINSTER ABBEY 26
V.--THE ADELPHI AND THE STRAND 38
VI.--THE ROMAN BATH--COVENT GARDEN 49
VII.--THE NATIONAL GALLERY 57
VIII.--SIR JOHN VANBRUGH AND ST. MARTIN’S LANE 68
IX.--PICCADILLY, BOND STREET, AND ALBERT GATE 78
X.--LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS 92
XI.--THE OLD INNS--CLIFFORD’S, STAPLE’S, BARNARD’S 99
XII.--DICKENS IN LONDON 114
XIII.--WATERLOO BRIDGE, THE LAW COURTS, ST. PAUL’S, ETC. 122
XIV.--OLD SUBURBAN MANSIONS 145
XV.--OLD TOWN MANSIONS 154
XVI.--OLD SQUARES 170
XVII.--THE OLD TAVERNS 176
XVIII.--TAVERNS 183
XIX.--CITY WALKS 195
XX.--THE OLD CITY HALLS 206
XXI.--ALLHALLOWS, ST. OLAVE’S, ELY CHAPEL, ETC. 211
XXII.--OLD ST. BARTHOLOMEW’S, ST. HELEN’S & OTHER CHURCHES 221
XXIII.--WREN’S CHURCHES 232
XXIV.--MODERN CHURCHES 240
XXV.--THE CHARTERHOUSE--THE NEW RIVER 249
XXVI.--CANONBURY TOWER 253
XXVII.--THE QUEEN ANNE STYLE--OLD DOORWAYS 258
XXVIII.--CHELSEA AND FULHAM 266
XXIX.--PUTNEY--FULHAM 272
XXX.--CHISWICK, KEW, RICHMOND, AND THEIR SUBURBS 277
XXXI.--WILLIS’S ROOMS--THE PALACES 293
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Houses of Parliament _Frontispiece._
Garden of Ashburnham House _facing_ p. 18
Adelphi Terrace “ 38
Entrance to the Roman Bath “ 49
The Old Roman Bath, Strand “ 50
Covent Garden “ 53
St. Etheldreda’s Church “ 217
* * * * *
The Cloisters, Westminster Abbey 2
Lambeth Palace 8
In Little Dean’s Yard 13
Tablet, Emanuel Hospital 15
The Staircase, Ashburnham House 17
The Blewcoat School, Westminster 19
Emanuel Hospital 21
Westminster Abbey 27
The Nightingale Monument 32
The Water Gate 46
The National Gallery 57
Statue of General Gordon in Trafalgar Square 69
St. Anne’s Church, Soho 72
Across the Hall, Dorchester House 82
The Red Drawing Room, Dorchester House 84
Statue of Sidney Herbert, by Foley 90
Sir John Soane’s Museum 94
Old Gateway, Lincoln’s Inn 97
A Corner of Lincoln’s Inn 98
Old Doorway, 24, Carey Street 100
Gateway, Staple Inn 102
King’s Bench Walk 103
Barnard’s Inn 106
Clifford’s Inn 107
Gray’s Inn 108
The Fountain, Middle Temple 109
Fountain Court, Temple 110
Hall and Library, Gray’s Inn 111
Gray’s Inn Hall 112
Garden Gate, Gray’s Inn 113
Doughty Street 120
The Law Courts 131
St. Paul’s Cathedral 135
Chimney Piece, by Steevens 140
The Duke of Wellington’s Monument, St. Paul’s 141
Cromwell’s House, Highgate 147
Fairfax House, Putney 148
Raleigh House 151
Room in The Sir Paul Pindar Tavern 158
Sir Paul Pindar’s House 159
Room in Sir Paul Pindar’s House 160
Berkeley Square 173
Mansion in Cavendish Square 175
The White Hart 178
The George Inn, Borough 180
The Old Cock Tavern 187
The Magpie and Stump, Portsmouth Street 194
Fresh Wharf and St. Magnus’ Steeple 198
College Hill--Whittington’s House 199
View of the Tower from London Bridge 201
St. Giles’, Cripplegate 203
Old Doorways, Laurence Pountney Hill 205
Brewer’s Hall Courtyard 207
Allhallows, Barking 212
St. Olave’s, Hart Street 213
The Savoy Chapel 214
The Savoy 215
The Crypt, St. Etheldreda’s 216
Old Roman Font in Crypt of St. Etheldreda’s 217
Doorway, St. Helen’s 221
St. Helen’s 223
St. Etheldreda’s 225
Gateway to Great St. Helen’s and Almshouses 227
Belfry, St. Helen’s Church 229
Monument of Sir William Pickering 230
Steeple of St. Mary-le-Bow 233
Steeple of St. James 235
St. Stephen’s, Walbrook 236
St. Mary Woolnoth 238
Interior of the Oratory 243
Confessional in the Oratory 244
Our Lady’s Altar in the Oratory 245
The Sanctuary, Farm Street 247
Old Charterhouse 251
Doorway, 70, Grosvenor Street 260
Doorway, Painter Stainers’ Hall 262
Extinguishers, Berkeley Square 263
Old Doorway, Whittington’s House 264
Cheyne Walk 267
Old Putney Bridge 273
Hogarth’s House, Chiswick 278
Maid of Honour Row, Richmond 281
Church Row, Hampstead 289
Grand Staircase, Buckingham Palace 295
Millais’s Studio 297
Alma Tadema’s Former Studio 299
Herkomer’s Studio 301
INTRODUCTION.
The subject of London, old and new, has ever offered a charm and even
fascination, attested by the countless works which crowd the shelves of
the library. The entries under the word “London” fill nearly a volume of
the British Museum catalogue. These old folios and quartos, grey and
rusted like the churches and halls they celebrate, have a dilapidated,
decayed tone, as though they also wanted “restoring”; and there is a
welcome quaintness and sincerity in the style of such antiquaries as
Northuck, Strype, Stowe, Pennant, and others, which contrast with the
more prosaic tone of the modern handbooks. These old scribes belonged to
that amazing and unrequited class, “the county historian”: such were
honest, laborious Whitaker and Plot. There is nothing more pathetic than
the record of these unselfish enthusiasts, who, after collecting
subscriptions and devoting their lives and life-blood to these huge
quartos, generally ruined themselves by the venture. Now, long after
they have mouldered away, their huge tomes fetch large prices at
auction; or some dapper editor of our day re-issues them, with airy
notes of his own, taking care to point out the various “blunders” of the
poor departed Dryasdust who laboured so faithfully and so modestly.
An interesting speculation might be found in considering the different
ways persons have looked on the great aggregate of London. For those of
fashion it is little more than an enlarged Grosvenor or Belgrave Square:
it has few associations, historical or otherwise; while its “curios” may
be useful as a sort of raree-show for the crowd. As the excellent
Boswell put it, “I have often amused myself with thinking how different
a place London is to different people. They whose narrow minds are
contracted to the consideration of some one particular pursuit, view it
only through that medium. A politician thinks of it merely as the seat
of government in its different departments; a grazier as a vast market
for cattle; a mercantile man as a place where a prodigious deal of
business is done upon ’Change; a dramatic enthusiast as the grand scene
of theatrical entertainments; a man of pleasure as an assemblage of
taverns, etc., etc.; but the intellectual man is struck with it as
comprehending the whole of human life in all its variety, the
contemplation of which is inexhaustible.”
Stowe, Maitland, Grose, Pennant, Brayley, Leigh Hunt, with J. T. Smith,
the author of “Walks in London,” the invaluable Peter Cunningham, and
other “guides and friends,” in their dealings with London town seem to
have been fascinated by one particular mode of treatment, viz.: the
tracking out of all the personages and the social and historical
incidents that are connected with particular spots. So diligently has
this sort of investigation been pursued that some sort of connection has
been established between every modern spot and corner and some great
memory. Old houses, old inns, old streets and chambers, have all been
thus registered and illustrated by quotations from books of their time.
As Leigh Hunt says, “Nor perhaps is there a single spot in London in
which the past is not visibly present to us, either in the shape of some
old buildings, or at least in the names of the streets, or in which the
absence of more tangible memorials may not be supplied by the antiquary.
In some parts of it we may go back through the whole English history,
perhaps through the history of man, as when we speak of St. Paul’s
Churchyard, a place in which you may get the last new novel, and find
remains of the ancient Britons and of the sea. There also, in the
Cathedral, lie painters, patriots, humorists, the greatest warriors and
some of the best men; and there, in St. Paul’s School, was educated
England’s epic poet, who hoped that his native country would never
forget her privilege of ‘teaching the nations how to live.’”
Elia seems to touch a more sympathetic note. He was, indeed, an idolater
of the city. “London,” he cried, “whose dirtiest Arab-frequented alley,
and her lowest-bowing tradesman I would not exchange for Skiddaw,
Helvellyn, James, Walter, and the parson into the bargain. Oh! her lamps
of a night, her rich goldsmiths, print shops, toy shops, mercers,
hardwaremen, pastrycooks, St. Paul’s Churchyard, the Strand, Exeter
Change, Charing Cross, and the man upon a black horse. These are thy
gods, O London! All her streets and pavements are pure gold, I warrant
you. At least I know an alchemist that turns her mud into that metal--_a
mind that loves to be at home in crowds_.” This is pleasant rapture. In
another place he grows almost wanton over what he calls “the furniture
of his world,” that is, “streets, streets, streets, markets, theatres,
churches, Covent Gardens, shops sparkling with pretty faces of
industrious milliners, neat seamstresses, ladies cheapening, gentlemen
behind counters lying, authors in the streets with spectacles ... lamps
lit at night, pastrycooks’ and silversmiths’ shops, beautiful Quakers of
Pentonville, noise of coaches, drowsy cry of mechanic watchmen at night,
with bucks reeling home drunk. If you happen to wake at midnight, cries
of ‘Fire!’ and ‘Stop thief!’ Inns of Court with their learned air, and
halls and butteries, just like Cambridge colleges; old bookstalls
‘Jeremy Taylors,’ ‘Burtons on Melancholy,’ on every stall. These are the
pleasures of London ... for these may Keswick and the giant brood go
hang.” And his humorous _penchant_ for the city was so strong that he
would call aloud, “_Give me Old London at fire and plague times_,”
rather than “healthy country air” and “purposeless exercise.”
The mutations in the aspect of London are taking place with an almost
alarming rapidity, so that it becomes difficult even to note them.
Hardly a week passes without some old street or mansion being menaced,
and marked for destruction. Of a morning we see the new and significant
“hoarding” set up: in a week or two we pass again, and the
“housebreakers,” as they are called, are hard at work with their
pickaxes, shovelling down the old Queen Anne bricks in showers of dust.
From year’s end to year’s end this goes on. The hungry eyes of the
speculator, or of the thriving man of business, are often fixed upon the
old Wren churches, which, in his view, so idly cumber space that might
be covered with useful warehouses at enormous rents. It is sad to think
that eventually it will be found impossible to resist this
never-relaxing pressure, and that within a few years the clearing away
of these venerable memorials will have set in. The recent clamour about
St. Mary’s in the Strand is truly significant, the spoilers knowing well
that if they can insert their wedge or pickaxe here, a happy beginning
will have been made. These old buildings have few authorized friends or
guardians beyond the amiable amateur.
“London,” as a writer in _The Builder_ says, “is still, in spite of all
pullings down, and removals of the so-called worn-out and out of date
buildings, full every here and there of quaint spots, and bits of
architecture, and even of poetic remembrances in dreary nooks and
corners. Many of the antique streets are yet in existence, as far as the
_plans_ of them go; and the irregularity of house pulling down and
improvement necessitates differences in the size and height of the
houses, which make up the crooked street, and leave the idea of it, as
it was, almost intact.”
It is fashionable to abuse the old city, to be ashamed of it, when
comparing it with foreign towns. Dr. Waagen, who was in London in 1838,
took away a not very favourable impression of London architecture. “The
outside of the brick houses,” he says, “in London is very plain, and has
nothing agreeable in the architecture, unless it be the neat and
well-defined joints of the brick-work. On the other hand, many of the
great palace-like buildings are furnished with architectural decorations
of all kinds, with pillars and pilasters. There are two reasons why most
of them have a rather disagreeable effect. They are destitute of
continuous simple main lines, which are indispensable in architecture to
produce a grand effect, and the decorative members are introduced in a
manner _entirely arbitrary_, without any regard to their original
meaning. This absurdity is carried to the greatest excess in the case of
columns, ranged here, as wholly unprofitable servants, directly before a
wall. This censure applies in an especial manner to most of the works of
the deceased architect, Nash. In truth, he had a peculiar knack of
depriving masses of considerable dimensions of all meaning, by breaking
them into a number of little projecting and receding parts.”
He is even more severe on some of the churches; for instance, All Souls,
in Langham Place, “a circular building in two stories, with Ionic and
Corinthian columns, surmounted by a pointed sugar-loaf.”
“If the immense sums expended in architectural abnormities had always
been applied in a proper manner, London must have been the handsomest
city in the world.” Exceptions, however, to this general blame, he
admits, are Somerset House, which has the air of a regal palace, and the
“new Post Office,” which has quite “a noble effect.”
It is interesting to reflect how the thoroughfares have affected eminent
persons. When Leigh Hunt saw a house with flowers in the balcony, or
otherwise prettily disposed or arranged with taste, he was seized with
an irresistible longing to knock at the door, ask for the proprietor,
and formally thank him for the pleasure he had given to a careless
passer-by! It might be curious to see this graceful appreciation pass
from theory to action; and conjure up the face of, say, some retired
cheesemonger as he came down to receive the compliment. His natural
sense would be--and would be in the case not merely of a retired
cheesemonger, but of an average person--an idea of affront. Johnson, as
we have been told again and again, enjoyed Fleet Street, though it must
be confessed the removal of Temple Bar has somewhat spoiled this
association. There was the idea of formal entrance to the City--much as
one would pass under the portals of an old castle to gain the courtyard.
The not unpicturesque oval where the Law Courts stand has gained, but
Fleet Street has lost. Nay, there was a pleasure, when vulgarly reared
aloft on an omnibus, in rumbling under that archway. It was like
entering an old fortified town.
One might be inclined to think that a few reflections, new or old, could
be suggested by the streets, where custom has so much staled any variety
that existed. Leigh Hunt again declares that there is not a single
London street--that endless world of flagging, stone, and brick--from
which the pleasant vision of a tree is not to be seen. I believe the
fact to be true in the main--certainly was true in his day. What curious
survivals still remain to us--such as would make the foreigner stop and
look back at long and eagerly, and go unheeded by the careless resident!
To give an instance or two: On a Sunday morning the early promenader is
likely to meet a little procession passing through the Mall of ten or a
dozen boys, gorgeously clad in scarlet coats of antique cut, richly and
profusely laced with gold, with black hose and shoes with buckles,
college caps with gold tassels. Few even in London have encountered
these little gentry, and if they did would wonder exceedingly. They
belong to the Court, and are the singing boys of the Royal Choir. Again,
to pass by Newgate Street and look in between the railings at the boys
of the old foundation of “Christ’s” busily engaged enjoying
football--what a quaint costume, the orange stockings, the monastic gown
confined with a leather strap--like a “Frere”--and the curious rule
which interdicts wearing hat or cap, apparently without injury. And we
have still left the “Beefeaters” or Yeomen of the Guard.
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.
[Illustration: _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.
In the shadow of Westminster Abbey stands a homely-looking edifice of
Churchwarden’s Gothic. Uninviting as is the exterior of St. Margaret’s,
its interior is most interesting and suggestive. Restored not many years
ago with excellent taste and reserve, it has been gradually beautified
under the direction and encouragement of the rector, Archdeacon Farrar;
so that, small and unpretending as it seems, a couple of hours may be
profitably spent in viewing it. The interior is of the collegiate
pattern, with a flat panelled roof supported by airy and elegant columns
with delicate mouldings. The walls have been judiciously allowed to
display the outlines of their stones, which furnish good detail and
background. No church of its size, perhaps, is so rich in tombs and
tablets, all of which are more or less interesting; and they are
disposed so as to heighten the general effect. Some are fitted on to the
light columns, shield-like, and bent to the mouldings. Most of the
memorials are of one formal kind; a bust or medallion in the middle, a
pediment above, and below a black marble slab or tablet with the
inscription. The marbles are mostly of rich russet tones, or of a plum
tint.
The idea of making the painted windows illustrate the story of eminent
persons connected with the place or parish is a happy one; for it
enriches as well as beautifies the church. The legends, moreover, have
been supplied by distinguished poets. One great window, which displays
its brown and amber glories in honour of Queen Elizabeth and Sir Walter
Raleigh, is a present from the Americans; and Mr. Lowell has written
these lines for it:--
The New World’s sons, from England’s breast we drew
Such milk as bids remember whence we came;
Proud of the Past from which our Present grew,
This window we erect to Raleigh’s name.
The window is a handsome one, and is richer and deeper in its tones than
its fellows. Long ago a meagre white tablet with a bold inscription was
placed here by “The Roxburghe Club,” to commemorate Caxton. Over the
tablet a painted window has recently been fitted, the gift of the
printers of London--a happy and becoming tribute; while the Laureate,
who has given abundant work to printers all over the globe, has supplied
these lines:--
Thy prayer was “light, more light while time shall last;”
Thou sawest a glory growing on the night,
But not the shadows which that light will cast
Till shadows vanish in the light of light.
Some of the side windows are poor and thin in tone, as if done in
water-colour; but the rich depth and gorgeousness of the great
window--as of old wine seen deep down in the glass--eclipses the rest.
There is also a window to the memory of the ill-fated Lord Frederick
Cavendish. The inscription is not particularly happy, and his
fellow-victim is described as “Mr. T. N. Burke.” Another commemorative
window which seems prosaic is that of the Jubilee, the Queen in the
centre, in full view of her great ancestor Elizabeth. Here Mr. Browning
furnished the verse:--
Fifty years’ flight! Where should he rejoice
Who hailed their birth, who as they die decays?
This--England echoes his attesting voice,
Wondrous and well, thanks, Ancient Thou of days!
A regular riddle or crux, which strains the wit, as we ponder over the
meaning. Merriment and wonder were alike excited by the last line, with
its odd punctuation:--
“Wondrous and well, thanks, Ancient Thou of days!”
There is also the Milton window--the Poet’s wife and daughter are buried
here--given by another amiable American, Mr. Childs, with an inscription
by Whittier:--
The New World honours him whose lofty plea,
For England’s freedom, made her own more sure;
Whose song, immortal as its theme, shall be
Their common freehold while both worlds endure.
The last line seeming rather prosaic, the author good-naturedly offered
to substitute “heirloom” for “freehold.” But “freehold” stands. Another
window celebrates Sir Erskine May, whose severe, thoughtful face is
portrayed in various Scriptural attitudes--_e.g._, as the Faithful
Steward, with the legend “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”
Another interesting memorial was set up on December 18th, 1888, thus
further enriching the associations of the church. This was in honour of
the gallant Admiral Blake, and takes the shape of a three-light window
in the north aisle. The upper portions are of an allegorical kind; the
lower depicts incidents from Blake’s life, such as the indignity of the
ejection of his body from the Abbey in 1661, after the Restoration. Mr.
Lewis Morris, another of the poets of our time, has furnished spirited
verses, and sings:--
Strong sailor, sleeping sound as sleep the just,
Rest here: our Abbey keeps no worthier dust.
This fashion is interesting, and original too. For, as we pass from
window to window, we can review our history, and the striking lines
attached to each will linger in the memory. Thus we have five poets
contributing to the glories of these windows.
The old tablets with which the walls are incrusted have an interest from
the originality of the style and the richness of material. Here we find
the rather grim likeness of the worthy Palmer, and of Emery Hill, whose
almshouses and schools are still to be seen in Westminster. Many Court
ladies find rest in the church: such as Lady Dorothy Stafford, “who
served Queen Elizabeth forty years, lying in the bed-chamber;” or Lady
Blanche Parry, “chief gentlewoman of Queen Elizabeth’s Privy Chamber,
and keeper of her Majesty’s jewels, whom she faithfully served from her
Highness’s birth;” or Anne Ellis, “who was born in Denmark, and was
Bedchamber Woman to Queen Anne.” We come on a record “To the memory of
the right virtuous and beautiful gentlewoman, Mistress Margaret
Ratcliffe, one of the maids of honour to Queen Elizabeth, and who died
at Richmond.” Many of the men, too, have served their King, like
Cornelius Vandam, “souldier with King Henry at Turney, Yeoman of the
Guard, and Usher to Prince Henry, King Edward, Queen Mary, and Queen
Elizabeth;” or Peter Newton, “who served King James and King Charles,
and was Usher of the Black Rod.”
Some of the inscriptions are quaint and touching, like that which
celebrates “the late deceased Virgin Mistress Elizabeth Hereicke”:--
Sweet Virgin, that I do not set
Thy grave verse up in mournful jet
Or dappled marble, let thy shade
Not wrathful seeme, or fright the Maid
Who hither, at the weeping Howres,
Shall come to strew thy Earth with Flowres.
No: know, blest Soule, when there’s not one
Reminder left of Brasse or Stone
Thy living Epitaph shall be,
Though lost in them, yet found in me.
Deare, in thy bed of Roses then,
Till this world shall dissolve, as Men
Sleepe, while we hide thee from the light,
Drawing thy curtains round--Good night.
With much simplicity another lady, Dame Billing, frankly tells us of the
happiness she enjoyed with her three husbands, whom she sets down in
their order, “garnishing the tablet with their armes.” Another widow
records on an old battered “brass” the merits of one Cole, her latest
partner, at great length; whereof an extract:--
In Parliament, a Burgesse Cole was placed
In Westminster the like, for many years;
But now, with Saints above, his soul is graced,
And lives a Burgess with Heaven’s Royal Peers.
There is also seen here Pope’s well-known epitaph on Mrs. Corbett,
which won Dr. Johnson’s highest praise, though he takes the objection
that her name is not mentioned in the lines themselves. It is well worth
quoting:--
Here rests a woman, good without pretence,
Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense;
No conquest she but her own sense desired,
No arts essayed, but not to be admired.
Of this line the Doctor says with grim humour: “I once heard a lady of
great beauty and excellence object that it contained an unnatural and
incredible panegyric--of this let the ladies judge.”
Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,
Convinced that virtue only is our own:
So unaffected and so composed a mind,
So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refin’d;
Heaven as its purest gold, by tortures tried,
The saint sustained it, but the woman died.
Of a quaint sort is the following to a Westminster boy:--
_Richard Nott, aged 11 years. His Schoolfellow Walter Thomas made his Epitaph._
Dear to his parents here doth lye,
A youth admired for Piety,
His years eleven, yet knew more
Of God than many of threescore.
Another monument is that of Mrs. Barnett, who died in 1674, leaving £40
yearly for poor widows. A large oatmeal pudding is, or used to be, given
at the “Feast,” to commemorate that this “worthy lady” sold oatmeal
cakes at the church doors. Skelton, the poet, is interred here: also
Thomas Churchyard, Hollar, the famous engraver, and Colonel Blood of
regalia memory. There can be read here the entry of Milton’s marriage
with Mrs. Catherine Woodcocke, and of Edmund Waller to Ann Bankes. There
is also recorded the baptism of Thomas Betterton, the actor, in 1635.
Titus Oates, Jeffreys, and Bishop Burnet’s children were baptized here.
These are interesting associations.
But the glory of the whole is the wonderful window over the
Communion-table, with its fine depth of blue, a treat for the eye, and
satiating it with colour. This impoverishes, as it were, all the modern
performances near it. A great authority on painted glass, Mr. Winston,
declares it to be “the most beautiful work in this respect, of
harmonious colouring,” he was acquainted with. The subject is the
Crucifixion. It is divided into five compartments, three of which are
filled by pictures of our Saviour and the two thieves. Below them are
the holy women, a crowd of Roman soldiers, etc.; over the good thief a
tiny angel is seen, bearing off his soul to Paradise, while a little
demon has the impenitent one on his back. On one side is the portrait
of a young king at his prayers, arrayed in crown and mantle, with the
armed St. George overhead; on the other side a lady, also kneeling, over
whom watches St. Catherine. This window had quite a strange course of
adventures. According to one account, it was a present to King Henry
VII. from the Dutch States-General, and was intended for his beautiful
chapel. Another version runs that it was a present from the King and
Queen of Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella. It took five years to make, and
by that time King Henry VIII. had succeeded. Whether his religious views
had altogether changed, or he had other reasons, the window was not set
up, and he made it a present to the abbey at Waltham. On the Dissolution
it was bought by General Monk, who brought it down to New Hall, where it
was well protected during the Civil War. From New Hall it passed to a
Mr. John Olmius, who sold the window to Mr. Conyers, of Copt Hall, where
it was set up; and there it seemed likely to remain. Unluckily it
entered into the minds of the Churchwardens’ Committee of St.
Margaret’s, in 1758, to have a thorough restoration of their old church.
Dreadful windows, the same that were to be seen about twenty years ago,
were put in: a common “household parapet,” as it was called, was added,
with the homely porch. But now they bethought themselves of Mr.
Conyers’s beautiful window, and bought it for 400 guineas. Thereupon the
Chapter, offended by its “Popish” character, commenced a lawsuit to have
the window removed; but the action was decided against them. There is a
loving cup which celebrates this victory. Thus this rich and glowing
feast of colour was retained. Below it there is a curious oaken reredos,
elaborately carved into the shape of a large picture--the Supper at
Emmaus--the work of a Soho artist some 120 years ago. The pulpit is a
rather fantastic thing, coloured like a sugar-plum. There is an antique
bench in the porch, used at the distribution of the weekly dole of
sixpences and bread to a number of poor widows.
Archdeacon Farrar, the Rector, takes jealous care of St. Margaret’s, and
has excited public interest in the church by his improvements and
reforms. He has opened it regularly for some hours in the day; numbers
are seen gazing in astonishment at the unexpected monuments and curios.
The churchyard that encompasses it is, however, associated with a
degrading history. There is somewhere in the inclosure “a nameless and
promiscuous pit,” as Archdeacon Farrar calls it, into which were flung,
shortly after the Restoration, the remains of some twenty Republicans
who had been interred in the Abbey. The bodies of Cromwell, Ireton, and
Bradshaw were hung up at Tyburn, and their heads fixed on pikes on the
top of Westminster Hall. But into the pit was cast the body of the
Protector’s mother, who was ninety years old at her death, the great
Admiral Blake, Dr. Twiss, and others of less note. It is fair, however,
to say that the Royal warrant did not order this outrage, and has a
specious reasonable air. It ran:--
It is his Majestie’s express pleasure and command that you cause
the bodies of the severall persons undernamed wᶜʰ have been
unwarrantably interred in Henry the 7th and other Chappels and
places wᵗʰ in the collegiate Church of Westminster since the year
1641 to be forthwith taken up and buried in some place of the
Churchyard adjoining to yᵉ said Church, whereof you may not faile,
and for so doing this shall be yʳ warrant. Dated at yᵉ Court of
Whitehall, Sept. 9, 1661.
[Illustration: LAMBETH PALACE.]