Chapter XII (1)

The Strand in 1353--St Mary Rounceval--Northampton House--Earl of Surrey, the Poet--Suffolk House--Suckling's _Ballade upon a Wedding_--Algernon Percy, Earl of Northumberland--The Restoration planned at Northumberland House--Lady Elizabeth Percy--Her Romantic Marriages--Murder of "Tom of Ten Thousand"--The "Proud" Duke of Somerset--_Edwin and Angelina_--Goldsmith at Northumberland House--Fire Here--Dr Percy's Library saved--the Famous Lion--Demolition of the House--The Duke's Lament--Northumberland Avenue--Craven Street--Benjamin Franklin--Sir Joshua Reynolds--Heinrich Heine--The Author of _Rejected Addresses_--J.S. Clarke.

THE last of the great mansions of the Strand, Northumberland House, which was swept away so recently as 1874, was a landmark of great antiquity. For it terminated the palaces of the nobles which existed for centuries on the north bank of the Thames from Blackfriars to Charing Cross. It may be observed that in 1353 the Strand was an open highway, with here and there a great man's house where gardens stretched to the water's edge. It was then so impassable that Edward III. directed the levying of a tax upon wool, leather, wine, and "all goods" carried to Westminster from Temple Bar to the Abbey, for the repair of the road; and he further ordered that all owners of houses adjacent to the highway should repair as much as lay before their doors. "There was no continued street here," says Pennant, "till about 1533: before that time it entirely cut off Westminster from London, and nothing intervened except a few scattered houses, and a village which afterwards gave name to the whole. St Martin's stood literally in the fields. But about the year 1560 a street was formed, loosely built; for all the houses on the south side had great gardens to the river, were called by their owners' names, and in aftertimes gave name to the several streets that succeeded them, pointing down to the Thames; each of them had stairs for the conveniency of taking boat.... The north side was a mere line of houses from Charing Cross to Temple Bar; all beyond was country. The gardens which occupied part of the site of Covent Garden were bounded by fields, and St Giles's was a distant country village."

The site of Northumberland House was that which had been previously occupied by the "hospital" or chapel of St Mary Rounceval. "Then," says Stow, "there was an hospital of St Marie Rouncivall by Charing Cross (a cell to the priory and convent of Roncesvalles in Navarre, in Pamplona diocese), where a fraternity was founded in the 15th year of Edward IV., but now the same is suppressed and turned into tenements." On the other hand, Pennant gives it a still greater antiquity, for he states that the chapel was founded, by William, Earl of Pembroke, in the reign of Henry III., repressed by Henry V. among the alien priories, and rebuilt by Edward IV., "who fixed a fraternity in it." Dissolved by Henry VIII., the property was granted by Edward VI. to Sir Thomas Cawarden, a private individual who did not attain to fame. From him it passed to Sir Robert Brett, and thence, by purchase, to Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton, who, in the reign of James I., built the immediate predecessor of Northumberland House. This Henry Howard, the first Earl of Northampton (1540-1614) was the second son of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, the poet. He was the most learned nobleman of his day. He may have had some religious sentiment in purchasing the original site of the chapel of St Mary, for he lived and died a Roman Catholic.

In the building of his "sumptuous palace," which he called Northampton House, he had for his architects Bernard Jansen, who was more a stonemason than an architect, and another maker of funeral monuments, Gerrard Christmas (Garret Christmas). The latter carved for himself the initials C. Æ. (Christmas Ædificavit), in large capitals over the old stone gateway, which was replaced by a new front towards the Strand in the reign of George II. At that time the house consisted of three sides of a quadrangle, the centre facing the Strand, and, of course, with gardens down to the river. The Earl of Northampton died here in 1614, and by his will bequeathed the house and garden to his nephew, Thomas Howard, first Earl of Suffolk, the second son of Thomas Howard the third, fourth Duke of Norfolk. As Lord Thomas Howard he distinguished himself against the Armada in 1588. He completed the quadrangle of Northampton House by building the front towards the Thames, and he changed the name to Suffolk House. The Earl of Suffolk died here in 1626, and his son, Theophilus, inherited the property. On his death, in 1640, James, the third Earl of Suffolk (1619-1688), inherited it. His sister, the Lady Elizabeth Howard, was married, in 1642, to Algernon Percy, Earl of Northumberland. By an indenture dated a few days before the marriage, the property was conveyed by the Earl of Suffolk to the Earl of Northumberland, a change which led also to the nomenclature of the house, which has had such a long career, and the destruction of which many Londoners still lament.

Before coming to the history of Northumberland House as it appeared from the middle of the seventeenth century--when great changes were made in its structure--until its demolition in 1874, it is interesting to note that one of the quaintest, and, in some respects, most charming of the old English poems had its origin in the marriage of Roger Boyle, Lord Broghill, the first Earl of Orrery, to Lady Margaret Howard, daughter of the first Earl of Suffolk, the builder of Northampton House. This is the event which called forth, in 1637, Sir John Suckling's _Ballade upon a Wedding_, in which one of the prettiest conceits in the English language occurs. The verses are too long to quote _in extenso_, but some extracts may be given, as they are germane to the matter of this particular history. The wedding is supposed to be described by a rustic, writing to his friend in the country:--

"I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen.

* * * * *

At Charing-Crosse, hard by the way Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, There is a house with stairs; And there did I see comming down Such folk as are not in our town, Vorty, at least, in pairs.

* * * * *

Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on which they did bring, It was too wide a peck. And to say truth, for out it must, It looked like the great collar, just, About our young colt's neck.

Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light. But oh! she dances such a way, No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.

* * * * *

Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison, Who sees them is undone; For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Katherine pear, The side that's next the sun.

Her lips were red, and one was thin; Compared to that was next her chin, Some bee had stung it newly; But Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze, Than on the sun in July.

Her mouth so small when she does speak, Thoud'st swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours or better, And are not spent a whit."

Algernon Percy, the tenth Earl of Northumberland, who was called by Lord Clarendon "the proudest man alive," became guardian of the two youngest children of Charles I. in 1645, and was one of the commissioners appointed to negotiate with the King at Newport in 1648. He took no part in public affairs during the Commonwealth and Protectorate. In the spring of 1660, George Monk--afterwards the Duke of Albemarle, and the husband of "Nan" Clarges--was invited, with the Earl of Manchester, Sir William Waller, and others to Northumberland House, and here, "in secret confidence with them," says Clarendon, "some of those measures were concerted which led to the speedy restoration of the Monarchy." Algernon Percy, who was a privy councillor after the Restoration, died in 1668. His son and successor, Josceline Percy, dying in 1670, without male issue, the property passed to his daughter, the Lady Elizabeth Percy (1667-1722). This lady had a strange matrimonial career. At the age of twelve she was "married" to Henry Cavendish, Earl of Ogle (son and heir of Henry, Duke of Newcastle), but he died in his youth. Two years later--that is to say, in 1681--she espoused Thomas Thynne, of Longleat, Wilts.

Thynne, who was nicknamed "Tom of Ten Thousand," in consequence of his great wealth, was the Issachar of _Absalom and Achitophel_. Lady Elizabeth, soon after the death of Lord Ogle, had been given in marriage by her grandmother to Thynne, who, however, had agreed, on account of the youth of his bride, that the marriage should not be consummated until a year had elapsed. The lady, however, took such a dislike to Thynne that she fled for protection to Lady Temple at the Hague. "In the meantime, the famous Count Königsmark--noted for his beauty and intrigues in most of the Courts of Europe--had accidentally met Lady Ogle in public, and had either fallen in love with her person, or with the vast fortune of which she was the mistress. That the feeling was reciprocal there is not the least reason to suppose. Königsmark, however, equally daring and unprincipled, determined by foul, if not by fair means, to make her his wife, and, as the first step, projected the assassination of the unfortunate Thynne. The persons whom he hired to commit the crime were three foreigners--one Captain Vratz, a German; a Lieutenant Stern, a Swede; and one George Borotski, a Pole. The two former seem to have been as daring and reckless adventurers as any age could produce. Borotski, on the other hand, was a quiet, uneducated man, who appears to have acted entirely from a feeling of retainership, without any thought of the gold which had induced his accomplices to undertake to commit the crime. The night of Sunday, the 12th of February 1682, was fixed upon for the perpetration of the foul deed. Accordingly, having had their several parts assigned to them, between seven and eight o'clock the three assassins, mounted on horseback, posted themselves in a part of Pall Mall, nearly opposite to the present Opera Colonnade, through which they had ascertained the equipage of Thynne was likely to pass. As soon as the coach appeared in sight, they all three rode up to the window, and, by their imposing attitude, compelled the coachman to halt. One shot only was fired, which was from a musketoon, carried by Borotski. So true, however, was the aim, that as many as five bullets entered the body of his victim. Thynne was forthwith carried to his own residence, where he lingered till about six o'clock the following morning, when he expired."[64] Königsmark attempted to escape, but he was arrested at Gravesend at the very moment that he was about to set foot on a foreign vessel. He was immediately brought to trial, and, after some delay, acquitted. His accomplices were condemned to death, and, on March 10, executed in Pall Mall, on the spot where they had committed the atrocious crime. Thynne was buried in Westminster Abbey, and a monument in white marble, representing the tragedy in bas-relief, was erected to his memory.

Thus, in the language of Lawrence Echard, the historian, Lady Elizabeth Percy had been a "virgin widow" twice ere, on May 30, 1682--at the age of fifteen--she became a wife. Her third husband was Charles Seymour (1662-1748), the sixth Duke of Somerset, commonly called "the proud duke." By an arrangement made before the marriage, he assumed the surname and arms of Percy, "but from that stipulation he was released when her grace attained her majority." The duke and duchess lived "in great state and magnificence" at Northumberland House. The duchess died in 1722, and the duke, dying in 1748, was succeeded by his eldest son, Algernon, Earl of Hertford and seventh Duke of Somerset, who, in 1749, was created Baron Warkworth of Warkworth Castle, Northumberland, and Earl of Northumberland, with remainder, in default of male issue, to Sir Hugh Smithson, Bart., a country gentleman of Stanwick, in Yorkshire, who had married his only daughter, the Lady Elizabeth Seymour. Sir Hugh Smithson was raised to the dukedom of Northumberland in 1766, and the title remains with his descendants at the present day. Algernon Seymour greatly improved the Strand front of Northumberland House, and built the gallery, or great room, which formed the western wing of the south side. In the cornice, or balustrading, on the top of the south front he had inserted the letters and date: A.S.P.N. (Algernon Seymour Princeps Northumbriæ), A.D. 1749.

Goldsmith is connected with Northumberland House through his poem, _Edwin and Angelina_. It was suggested in the course of discussions on ballads with Dr Percy (1729-1811), editor of the famous _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_, first published in 1765. Percy, who had rooms in Northumberland House, was visited here by Goldsmith, and one result of this acquaintanceship was the poem in question, which was privately "Printed for the amusement of the Countess of Northumberland." Copies of this edition are extremely rare, and, apart from their scarcity, they possess an independent value inasmuch as they show Goldsmith's painstaking care in the preparation of his verse. By comparing this edition with subsequent issues, "we perceive that even the gentle opening line has been an after-thought; that four stanzas have been re-written; and that the two which originally stood last have been removed altogether. These, for their simple beauty of expression, it is worth while here to preserve. The action of the poem having closed without them, they were, on better consideration, rejected; and young writers should study and make profit of such lessons. Posterity has always too much upon its hands to attend to what is irrelevant or needless; and no one so well as Goldsmith seems to have known that the writer who would hope to live must live by the perfection of his style, and by the cherished and careful beauty of unsuperfluous writing.[65]

"'Here amidst sylvan bowers we'll rove,
From lawn to woodland stray;
Blest as the songsters of the grove,
And innocent as they.

To all that want, and all that wail,
Our pity shall be given;
And when this life of love shall fail,
We'll love again in heaven.'"

Goldsmith's own account of the blunder which he made on the occasion of one of his visits to this old mansion is as follows:--"I dressed myself in the best manner I could, and, after studying some compliments I thought necessary on such an occasion, proceeded to Northumberland House, and acquainted the servants that I had particular business with the duke. They showed me into an antechamber, where, after waiting some time, a gentleman, very elegantly dressed, made his appearance. Taking him for the duke, I delivered all the fine things I had composed, in order to compliment him on the honour he had done me; when to my fear and astonishment, he told me I had mistaken him for his master, who would see me immediately. At that instant the duke came into the apartment, and I was so confounded on the occasion that I wanted words barely sufficient to express the sense I entertained of the duke's politeness, and went away exceedingly chagrined at the blunder I had committed."

To Sir John Hawkins, the Middlesex magistrate, who drew up Johnson's will, and, in 1787-89, published Johnson's _Life and Works_, we are indebted for a description of another meeting with the Duke of Northumberland. "Having one day," he says, "a call to wait on the late Duke, then Earl of Northumberland, I found Goldsmith waiting for an audience in an outer room; I asked him what had brought him there: he told me, an invitation from his lordship. I made my business as short as I could, and, as a reason, mentioned that Dr Goldsmith was waiting without. The earl asked me if I was acquainted with him. I told him I was, adding what I thought likely to recommend him. I retired, and staid in the outer room to take him home. Upon his coming out, I asked him the result of his conversation. 'His lordship,' says he, 'told me he had red (_sic_) my poem,' meaning the _Traveller_, and was much delighted with it; that he was going lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and that, hearing that I was a native of that country, he should be glad to do me any kindness.' 'And what did you answer, asked I, to this gracious offer?' 'Why,' said he, 'I could say nothing but that I had a brother there, a clergyman, that stood in need of help: as for myself'" (this was added for the benefit of Hawkins), "'I have no dependence on the promises of great men: I look to the book-sellers for support; they are my best friends, and I am not inclined to forsake them for others.' Thus, adds the teller of the anecdote, did this idiot in the affairs of the world trifle with his fortunes, and put back the hand that was held out to assist him! Other offers of a like kind he either rejected or failed to improve, contenting himself with the patronage of one nobleman, whose mansion afforded him the delights of a splendid table, and a retreat for a few days from the metropolis."

The incident thus related, says Forster, "may excuse the comment attached to it. Indeed, the charge of idiotcy in the affairs of the Hawkins-world may even add to the pleasure with which we contemplate that older-world picture beside it, of frank simplicity and brotherly affection. This poor poet, who, incomprehensibly to the Middlesex magistrate, would thus gently have turned aside to the assistance of his poorer brother the hand held out to assist himself, had only a few days before been obliged to borrow fifteen shillings and six-pence 'in Fleet Street,' of one of those 'best friends' with whose support he is now fain to be contented." The duke of these anecdotes was Sir Hugh Smithson (1715-1786), the first Duke of Northumberland of the third creation. He married, in 1774, Elizabeth Seymour, the heiress of the Percy property.

The front of Northumberland House was 162 feet in length, the court being 81 feet square. The coping along the Strand front "was a border of capital letters," and, at the funeral of Queen Anne of Denmark, in May 1619, a young man in the crowd was killed by the letter "S," which had been pushed off by the too eager spectators on the roof. There were many famous pictures at Northumberland House. On June 9, 1658, Evelyn records: "I went to see the Earl of Northumberland's pictures, whereof that of the Venetian Senators was one of the best of Titian's, and another of Andrea del Sarto, viz., a Madona, Christ, St John, and an Old Woman, etc., a St Catherine of Da Vinci, with divers portraits of Van Dyke; a Nativity of Georgioni; the last of our blessed Kings (Charles I.) and the Duke of York, by Lely; a roserie by the famous Jesuits of Bruxelles, and severall more. This was in Suffolk House: the new front towards the gardens is tollerable, were it not drown'd by a too massie and clomsie pair of stayres of stone, without any neate invention."

Fire threatened to destroy the house on more than one occasion. In March, 1780, an outbreak occurred about five o'clock in the morning, "and raged till eight, in which time it burnt from the east end, where it began, to the west. Among the apartments consumed are those of Dr Percy, Bishop of Carlisle. We are happy to inform our readers that the greatest part of the doctor's invaluable library is fortunately preserved." The famous lion which delighted Londoners for a century and a quarter was placed in his proud position in 1752. It was cast in lead, from a model by Carter, and was twelve feet in length. There is a pleasant fiction to the effect that the noble brute, when first placed upon his pedestal, had his head towards Carlton House and St James's Palace, but afterwards upon some rebuff experienced by one of the dukes of Northumberland turned his face towards the city of London. The lion was subsequently removed to Syon House, Isleworth, the Middlesex seat of the Northumberlands. "The vestibule of the interior was eighty-two feet long, and more than twelve feet in breadth, ornamented with Doric columns. Each end communicated with a staircase, leading to the principal apartments facing the garden and the Thames. They consisted of several spacious rooms fitted up in the most elegant manner, embellished with paintings, among which might be found the well-known 'Cornaro Family,' by Titian, a work well worthy of its reputation, and for which Algernon, Earl of Northumberland, is stated to have given Vandyck 1000 guineas, and a wonderful vase, which now has a story of its own; 'St Sebastian Bound,' by Guercino; 'The Adoration of the Shepherds,' by Bassano; and others by well-known masters. The great feature of the house was the ball-room, or grand gallery, upwards of 100 feet in length, in which were placed large and very fine copies by Mengs, after Raphael's 'School of Athens,' in the Vatican, of the size of the originals; also the 'Assembly of the Gods,' and the 'Marriage of Cupid and Psyche,' in the Farnesina; the 'Triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne,' from Caracci's picture in the Farnese Palace; and 'Apollo driving the Chariot of the Sun,' from Reni's fresco in the Villa Rospigliosi, at Rome. These celebrated works, and the decoration of the noble apartment, constituted it one of the landmarks of high art in the metropolis. The grand staircase consisted of a centre flight of thirteen moulded vein marble steps, and two flights of sixteen steps, with centre landing twenty-two feet by six feet, two circular plinths, and a handsome and richly-gilt ormolu scroll balustrade, with moulded Spanish mahogany hand-rail. The mansion contained nearly 150 rooms for the private use of the family."[66]

The destruction of Northumberland House was due to the necessity of a direct thoroughfare from Charing Cross to the Embankment. As early as 1866, the Metropolitan Board of Works--the predecessor of the London County Council--had perceived the need, and had suggested a new street through the site of Northumberland House and its grounds. "The Duke of Northumberland of that day, however, set his face determinedly against any interference with his ancestral mansion, and his opposition received much support from members of both Houses of Parliament, and from those who looked with disfavour on a proposal to destroy the last of the palaces of the English nobles which three centuries ago stood on the south side of the Strand now occupied by the streets leading from it to the river. The Metropolitan Board was forced to yield to the resistance which then and for several years after was offered to every attempt to get power to take Northumberland House. Eventually the necessities of the case were so strongly pressed that further resistance was abandoned, and the Board having, in 1872, learned that the present Duke of Northumberland was willing to sell his property, an agreement was in the year 1873 concluded and ratified by Parliament, under which the Board acquired his Grace's property upon payment of £500,000, the Board at the same time obtaining power to make the new street."[67] The opposition of the owner of Northumberland House to the destruction of this historical property was natural enough, and many otherwise uninterested persons lamented the proposed demolition. The Duke of Northumberland--the sixth duke of his creation--writing in 1866, said: "The Duke of Northumberland is naturally desirous that this great historical house, commenced by a Howard, continued by a Percy, and completed by a Seymour, which has been the residence of his ancestors for two centuries and a half, should continue to be the residence of his descendants; but the Metropolitan Board of Works are desirous that this house, which, with its garden, is one of the landmarks of London, and is probably the oldest residential house in the metropolis, should be destroyed."

The sale was concluded in June, 1874, and, in September and October of that year, "the fine old mansion underwent its final stage of degradation." Its materials were sold by auction. The lots consisted of 3,000,000 bricks, the grand marble staircase, the elaborate ornamentation of the various apartments and corridors, and lead to the weight of 400 tons. The sale realised but £6500, and of this sum the great staircase--subsequently removed to No. 49 Prince's Gate--brought £360. Some of the pictures had been removed to Alnwick Castle, Northumberland, others to the ducal town residence, No. 2 Grosvenor Place. "The progress of wealth and luxury," said a writer in the _Standard_ at the time of the projected demolition, "has long since dimmed the splendours of what was once the proudest of the London houses of the English nobility. The march of fashion westward had left it isolated amidst an uncongenial neighbourhood of small shops. Commerce had overtaken and overwhelmed it, so that it stood somewhat abruptly in the full stream of London life, making it too violent a contrast with the surrounding houses, and destroying whatever of felicity there might have been in the situation. In the days when the Strand was but a road between London and Westminster, lined with private houses of the great and noble on either side, and with gardens going down to the river, it might have been an abode fit even for the proud Earls of Northumberland, to whom it descended. But with the Thames Embankment on one side, and Trafalgar Square on the other, with omnibuses perpetually passing its front door, Northumberland House was a standing anachronism, if not an impediment, which was destined to succumb to the influence of time and the Metropolitan Board of Works." It may be added that during the Great Exhibition of 1851, the public were admitted by ticket to view the house at the rate of ten thousand a week.

Northumberland Avenue was opened in March, 1876. It is 950 feet long and 84 feet wide, the width between the pavements being 60 feet. The Strand portion of the house is marked by the Grand Hotel, the opening of which, in 1880, was considered of so much importance that its initiation was attended by the Lord Mayor of the City of London, who was accompanied by the sheriffs. Two other of the Gordon hotels in this Avenue, the Métropole and Victoria, opened in 1885 and 1887 respectively, indicate the site of the extensive gardens of Northumberland House. The handsome building of the Constitutional Club, the offices of the Royal Colonial Institute, and the headquarters of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, are also in Northumberland Avenue.

Craven Street, which still retains much of its old-world air, is chiefly notable for the fact that Benjamin Franklin lived here, at No. 7, at the house of Mrs Margaret Stevenson, during the entire period of his visits to London as agent for the House of Assembly, Philadelphia, and "other provinces." Leigh Hunt, speaking of this circumstance, says: "What a change along the shores of the Thames in a few years (for two centuries are less than two years in the lapse of time), from the residence of a set of haughty nobles, who never dreamt that a tradesman could be anything but a tradesman, to that of a yeoman's son, and a printer, who was one of the founders of a great state!" He was visited here in February, 1755, by William Pitt (the first Earl of Chatham, 1708-1788), and, wrote Franklin, "He stayed with me near two hours, his equipage waiting at the door." The house, which is marked by a tablet, is now a private hotel.

Mark Akenside, the poet and physician, was visited in this street, on January 22, 1761--at which time he was physician to Queen Charlotte--by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Heinrich Heine, during his stay in England, April 23 to August 8, 1827, lodged at No. 32 Craven Street. A notorious resident of this street was James Hackman (1752-1779), incumbent of Wiveton, Norfolk. He fell in love with Martha Ray, who was the mother of nine children, of whom Lord Sandwich was the father. His passion was so great that, as the lady would not marry him, he shot her dead on the night of April 7, 1779, in the piazza of Covent Garden Theatre. He turned the pistol upon himself, but without fatal effect. He was hanged at Tyburn twelve days later.

A more interesting resident was James Smith, one of the authors of the _Rejected Addresses_, who lived for many years at No. 27, where he died on December 24, 1839. This remarkable literary character, the son of a solicitor to the Ordnance, was born in 1775. At the age of twenty-seven he had made his mark in Fleet Street, and, from 1807 to 1817, the articles to the _Monthly Mirror_ entitled "Horace in London" were written by him. In 1812, with his younger brother, Horatio, he published the _Rejected Addresses_, in which Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, and other writers were parodied with admirable felicity. He wrote many of the "Entertainments" for Charles Mathews the Elder, including _Country Cousins_ in 1820, and the _Trip to France_ and the _Trip to America_ in the two succeeding years. For the last two sketches he received a thousand pounds. "A thousand pounds!" he used to exclaim, with a shrug of the shoulders, "and all for nonsense."[68] He was lucky enough to obtain a legacy of £300 for a complimentary epigram on Mr Strachan, the King's printer. Being patted on the head when a boy by Chief-Justice Mansfield, in Highgate churchyard, and once seeing Horace Walpole on his lawn at Twickenham, were the two chief historical events of Mr Smith's quiet life. The four reasons that kept so clever a man employed on mere amateur trifling were these--an indolent disinclination to sustained work, a fear of failure, a dislike to risk a well-earned fame, and a foreboding that literary success might injure his practice as a lawyer. His favourite visits were to Lord Mulgrave's, Mr Croker's, Lord Abinger's, Lady Blessington's, and Lord Harrington's. Pretty Lady Blessington used to say of him, that "James Smith, if he had not been a _witty_ man, must have been a _great_ man. He died in his house in Craven Street, with the calmness of a philosopher, on the 24th of December, 1839, in the sixty-fifth year of his age."[69] It was on his own street that he wrote the well-known epigram:

"In Craven Street, Strand, ten attorneys find place, And ten dark coal-barges are moor'd at its base; Fly, Honesty, fly! seek some safer retreat, For there's _craft_ in the river, and _craft_ in the street."[70]

This satire led to a retort by Sir George Rose, the judge and well-known legal writer, in extemporaneous lines written at a dinner:

"Why should Honesty fly to some safer retreat,
From attorneys and barges?--'od rot 'em!--
For the lawyers are _just_ at the top of the street,
And the barges are _just_ at the bottom."

Lawyers still have their offices in Craven Street, but the coal-barges vanished in 1876. A few doors from James Smith's, in the house on the left-hand side from the Strand, there lodged, in 1885, the celebrated American comedian, John Sleeper Clarke (1834-1899). His rooms overlooked the back of what was then the Avenue Theatre. This house, opened on March 11, 1882, was rebuilt by Mr Cyril Maude, and, on the eve of its re-opening, December 5, 1905, it was destroyed by the fall of the roof of Charing Cross Station. Again rebuilt by Mr Maude, it was opened, on January 28, 1907, as the Playhouse. The theatrical associations of this part of London are, indeed, like Mr Weller's knowledge of London, "extensive and peculiar."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 64: _The Court of England under the Stuarts_, Jesse, vol. iii., pp. 356-7.]

[Footnote 65: Forster's _Goldsmith_.]

[Footnote 66: _Old and New London_, vol. iii., p. 140.]

[Footnote 67: _London in the Reign of Victoria_, G. Laurence Gomme, pp. 156-7.]

[Footnote 68: _Memoirs of James Smith_, vol. i., p. 32.]

[Footnote 69: _Haunted London_, pp. 140-141.]

[Footnote 70: _Gothic Miscellanies_, James Smith, vol. ii., p. 186.]

Appendix

SAMUEL PEPYS AND THE ADELPHI

_January 31, 1668._--Up, and by coach, with W. Griffin with me, and our Contract-books, to Durham Yard to the Commissioners for Accounts. [See page 37.]

_May 10, 1668._--From church home with my Lady Pen; and after being there an hour or so talking, I took her ... and old Mrs Whistler, her mother-in-law, by water ... as far as Chelsy, and so back to Spring Garden ... and so to water again, and set down the old woman at home at Durham Yard.

_April 26, 1669._--I am told by Betty, who was all undressed, of a great fire happened in Durham Yard last night, burning the house of one Lady Hungerford. [See page 38.]

* * * * *

_February 11, 1660._--My wife and I ... went out again to show her the fires, and after walking as far as the Exchange, we returned and to bed.

_March 12, 1660._--My wife and I to the Exchange, where we bought a great many things.

_July 7, 1660._--Thence to the 'Change, where I bought two fine prints of Ragotti from Rubens.

_July 18, 1660._--After a little stay we all went by water to Westminster as far as the New Exchange.

_September 3, 1660._--Up and to Mr ----, the goldsmith, near the New Exchange.

_September 22, 1660._--From thence by coach home (by the way, at the new Exchange I bought a pair of short black stockings to wear over a pair of silk ones for mourning ...).

_November 12, 1660._--Mr Comptroller and I sat a while at the office to do business, ... and from thence by coach (setting down his sister at the New Exchange) to Westminster Hall.

_April 20, 1661._--With Mr Creed to the Exchange and bought some things, as gloves and bandstrings, etc.

_September 2, 1661._--My wife ... met at the 'Change with my young ladies of the Wardrobe, and there helped them to buy things.

_March 24, 1662._--Thence by water to the New Exchange.... Thence at the New Exchange and so home.

_April 15, 1662._--With my wife, by coach, to the New Exchange, to buy her some things; where we saw some new-fashion pettycoats of Sarcenett, with a black broad lace printed round the bottom and before, very handsome, and my wife had a mind to one of them, but we did not then buy one.

_October 7, 1662._--So towards the New Exchange, and there while my wife was buying things I walked up and down.

_January 12, 1663._--After dinner to the 'Change to buy some linen for my wife.

_February 26, 1663._--From the New Exchange home to the Tower.

_April 10, 1663._--Then to my Lord's lodgings, met my wife and walked to the New Exchange. There laid out 10s. upon pendents and painted leather gloves, very pretty and all the mode.

_May 4, 1663._--She and I to Mr Creed to the Exchange, where she bought something.

_May 7, 1663._--Up ... with my wife, leaving her at the New Exchange.

_May 30, 1663._--Creed and I ... walked to the New Exchange, and there drank our morning draught of whey, the first I have done this year.

_June 12, 1663._--So to the Exchange, to buy things with my wife; among others a vizard for herself.

_August 24, 1663._--Walked to the New Exchange, and there drank some whey.

_August 29, 1663._--Thence to my wife, and calling at both the Exchanges, buying stockings for her and myself.

_October 5, 1663._--So to the New Exchange, and there met Creed.

_October 12, 1663._--To the Old Exchange, and there cheapened some laces for my wife.... I was resolved to buy one worth wearing with credit, and so to the New Exchange, and there put it to making.

_October 14, 1663._--So to fetch my wife, and so to the New Exchange about her things.

_October 16, 1663._--Then to the Exchange and to several places.

_October 19, 1663._--Took up my wife at Mrs Harper's ... and so called at the New Exchange for some things for her.

_October 21, 1663._--I to the Exchange.... From my brother's with my wife to the Exchange, to buy things for her and myself, I being in the humour of laying out money, but not prodigally, but only in clothes, which I every day see that I suffer for want of.

_October 30, 1663._--Then by coach with my wife to the New Exchange, and there bought and paid for several things.

_November 4, 1663._--I to the New Exchange and several places to buy and bring home things.

_November 19, 1663._--Thence with Sir G. Carteret by coach, and he set me down at the New Exchange.

_January 9, 1664._--I took coach and called my wife and her mayd, and so to the New Exchange, where we bought several things of our pretty Mrs Dorothy Stacy, a pretty woman, and has the modestest look that ever I saw in my life.

_February 1, 1664._--I hear how two men last night, justling for the wall about the New Exchange, did kill one another, each thrusting the other through; one of them of the King's Chappel, one Cave, and the other a retayner of my Lord Generall Middleton's.

_February 13, 1664._--Walked to the New Exchange, and after a turn or two and talked, I took coach and home.

_April 1, 1664._--Setting my wife down at the New Exchange, I to White Hall.... So with Creed to the 'Change, and there took up my wife and left him.

_April 6, 1664._--Bought a pretty silke for a petticoate for my wife, and thence set her down at the New Exchange.... To the 'Change for my wife.

_April 9, 1664._--With my wife by coach to her Tailor's and the New Exchange.

_April 26, 1664._--So walked to the New Exchange, and there had a most delicate dish of curds and creame, and discourse with the good woman of the house.... Thence up, and after a turn or two in the 'Change, home to the Old Exchange.

_May 9, 1664._--After dinner, in Sir W. Pen's coach; he set my wife and I down at the New Exchange, and after buying some things, we walked to my Lady Sandwich's.

_May 21, 1664._--So abroad with my wife by coach to the New Exchange, and there laid out almost 40s. upon her.

_June 21, 1664._--So to the New Exchange, meeting Mr Moore, and he with us.

_June 22, 1664._--At noon to the 'Change and coffee-house.

_July 7, 1664._--Thence to the New Exchange to drink some creame, but missed it.

_August 11, 1664._--However, abroad, carried my wife to buy things at the New Exchange.

_September 12, 1664._--So I to Mr Creed's lodgings, and with him walked up and down in the New Exchange, talking mightily of the convenience and necessity of a man's wearing good clothes, and so after eating a messe of creame, I took leave of him.

_January 16, 1665._--Povy and I walked together as far as the New Exchange, and so parted.

_January 20, 1665._--Abroad with my wife about several businesses, and met at the New Exchange, and there to our trouble found our pretty Doll is gone away.

_March 9, 1665._--Abroad with my wife, left her at the New Exchange.

_May 12, 1665._--Thence called my wife at Unthanke's to the New Exchange and elsewhere to buy a lace band for me, but we did not buy.

_June 7, 1665._--We to the New Exchange, and there drank whey, with much entreaty getting it for our money, and (they) would not be entreated to let us have one glasse more.

_July 11, 1665._--Had Mary meet me at the New Exchange.

_March 10, 1666._--To the New Exchange, and there I did give my valentine, Mrs Pierce, a dozen payre of gloves, and a payre of silke stockings.

_April 18, 1666._--Thence to the Exchange, that is, the New Exchange, and looked over some play books, and intend to get all the late new plays.

_April 20, 1666._--To the New Exchange, there to get a list of all the modern plays, which I intend to collect and to have them bound up together.

_May 4, 1666._--To the New Exchange about play books.

_May 14, 1666._--I left my wife at the New Exchange.... At the New Exchange took up my wife again.

_May 23, 1666._--After dinner Creed and I and wife and Mercer out by coach, leaving them at the New Exchange.

_May 29, 1666._--Set Mrs Pierce in at the New Exchange.

_June 6, 1666._--Away go I by coach to the New Exchange.

_June 17, 1666._--Wanting a coach to carry us home I walked out as far as the New Exchange to find one, but could not. So downe to the Milke-house, and drank three glasses of whey, and then up into the Strand again.

_July 17, 1666._--I did take my wife out to the New Exchange to buy things.

_August 8, 1666._--I met with Mrs Burroughs by appointment, and did agree ... for her to meet me at the New Exchange, while I by coach to my Lord Treasurer's, and then called at the New Exchange, and thence carried her by water to Parliament stayres.

_August 21, 1666._--Dined at home and sister Balty with us. My wife snappish because I denied her money to lay out this afternoon; however, good friends again, and by coach set them down at the New Exchange.

_September 7, 1666._--So to Creed's lodging, near the New Exchange, and there find him laid down upon a bed; the house all unfurnished, there being fears of the fire's coming to them. [See page 39.][71]

_September 11, 1666._--So with Sir W. Batten to the New Exchange by water.

_October 27, 1666._--I took them out to the New Exchange, and there my wife bought things, and I did give each of them a pair of jessimy plain gloves and another of white.

_November 12, 1666._--So great a stop there was at the New Exchange, that we could not pass in half an houre, and therefore 'light and bought a little matter at the Exchange, and then home.

_November 26, 1666._--Among others with Mrs Burroughs, whom I appointed to meet me at the New Exchange in the afternoon.... I took coach to the New Exchange.... Having staid as long as I thought fit for meeting of Burroughs, I away and to the 'Change again, and there I do not find her now.

_December 31, 1666._--I did take money and walk forth to several places in the towne as far as the New Exchange, to pay all my debts.... Thence to the New Exchange to clear my wife's score.

_January 23, 1667._--To the New Exchange, there to take up my wife and Mercer.

_January 25, 1667._--I away by coach with my wife, and left her at the New Exchange.

_February 5, 1667._--Thence by coach to the New Exchange, and there laid out money, and I did give Betty Michell two pair of gloves and a dressing-box.

_February 11, 1667._--My Lord carried me and set me down at the New Exchange, where I stayed at Pottle's shop till Betty Michell come.

_February 14, 1667._--Thence away by coach to Sir H. Cholmly and Fitzgerald and Creed, setting down the two latter at the New Exchange.

_March 9, 1667._--Carried Mrs Pierce and wife to the New Exchange, and there did give her and myself a pair of gloves.

_March 13, 1667._--Sent my wife to the New Exchange.

_March 20, 1667._--So to the New Exchange, where I find my wife.

_April 5, 1667._--So by coach to the New Exchange and Mercer's.

_April 17, 1667._--My wife being sent for by me to the New Exchange, I took her up, and there to the King's playhouse.

_April 25, 1667._--Thence by coach to my Lord Treasurer's, and there being come too soon to the New Exchange, but did nothing.

_May 13, 1667._--I away to the New Exchange, and there staid a little.

_July 5, 1667._--To the New Exchange to buy gloves and other little errands.

_July 13, 1667._--After dinner my wife and I to the New Exchange, to pretty maid Mrs Smith's shop, where I left my wife.... I home by coach, taking up my wife at the Exchange.

_July 17, 1667._--Then by coach, set my wife down at the New Exchange.

_July 26, 1667._--I then abroad with my wife and left her at the New Exchange.

_August 10, 1667._--To the New Exchange, to the bookseller's there, where I hear of several new books coming out.

_August 12, 1667._--Then walked to the New Exchange, and there to my bookseller's, and did buy Scott's _Discourse of Witches_.... Thence I to the printseller's over against the Exchange towards Covent Garden, and there bought a few more prints of cittys.

_August 16, 1667._--Thence to the New Exchange with my wife, where at my bookseller's I saw _The History of the Royall Society_, which, I believe, is a fine book, and have bespoke one in quires.

_August 20, 1667._--Thence, with my Lord Brouncker to the Duke's Playhouse (telling my wife so at the 'Change, where I left her).

_August 21, 1667._--My wife and I mighty pleasant abroad, she to the New Exchange, and I to the Commissioners of the Treasury.

_August 27, 1667._--My wife and I, with Sir W. Pen, to the New Exchange, set her down.... Having done here, I to the Exchange, and there find my wife gone with Sir W. Pen.

_September 16, 1667._--So parted at the New Exchange, where I staid reading Mrs Phillips' poems till my wife and Mercer called me.

_October 2, 1667._--Then by coach to the New Exchange, and there met my wife and girl.

_October 28, 1667._--Calling at the New Exchange, and there buying _The Indian Emperour_, newly printed.

_January 2, 1668._--I took my wife and her girl out to the New Exchange, and there my wife bought herself a lace for a handkercher, which I do give her, of about £3, for a new year's gift, and I did buy also a lace for a band for myself.

_January 17, 1668._--So home, and there alone with my wife and Deb. to dinner, and after dinner comes Betty Turner, and I carried them to the New Exchange.

_February 21, 1668._--Thence with Lord Brouncker and T. Harvey as far as the New Exchange.

_February 25, 1668._--Thence set my wife at the New Exchange, and I to Mr Clerke, my solicitor ... so I by water with him to the New Exchange and there we parted, and I took my wife and Deb. up, and to the nursery.... Thence to the New Exchange, to take some things home that my wife hath bought, a dressing-box and other things for her chamber and table, that cost me above £4.

_April 9, 1668._--I to the New Exchange, there to meet Mrs Burroughs, and did take her in a carosse and carry her towards the Park, kissing her.

_April 28, 1668._--Thence to the New Exchange to pay a debt of my wife's there, and so home.

_April 30, 1668._--Thence to the New Exchange, and then home.

_May 1, 1668._--I back again to the New Exchange a little.

_May 6, 1668._--Thence by water to the New Exchange, where bought a pair of shoe-strings.

_May 9, 1668._--I towards the New Exchange and there bought a pair of black silk stockings at the hosier's that hath the very pretty woman to his wife, about ten doors on this side of the 'Change.

_May 20, 1668._--Down to the New Exchange, and there cheapened ribbands for my wife, and so down to the Whey house and drank some and eat some curds, which did by and by make my belly ake mightily.

_May 27, 1668._--So homeward toward the New Exchange, and meeting Mr Creed he and I to drink some whey at the whey-house, and so into the 'Change and took a walk or two.

_May 28, 1668._--By coach to the New Exchange, and there by agreement at my bookseller's shop met Mercer and Gayet.

_May 30, 1668._--Thence to the New Exchange, and there met Harris and Rolt, and one Richards, a tailor and great company-keeper.... Thence set Rolt and some of (them) at the New Exchange.

_May 31, 1668._--I by water to the New Exchange.

_June 20, 1668._--Took my wife up, and calling at the New Exchange at Smith's shop, and kissed her pretty hand.

_July 29, 1668._--So to the New Exchange.

_July 30, 1668._--Out with my wife to the New Exchange.

_July 31, 1668._--My wife and Deb. and I, with Sir J. Minnes, to White Hall, she going hence to the New Exchange.

_August 31, 1668._--So to the New Exchange and paid for some things.

_September 21, 1668._--This day I met Mr Moore in the New Exchange, and had much talk of my Lord's concernments.

_October 20, 1668._--So to my tailor's and the New Exchange, and so by coach home, and there, having this day bought _The Queene of Arragon_ play, I did get my wife and W. Batelier to read it.

_October 21, 1668._--So I away to the New Exchange, and there staid for my wife.

_November 23, 1668._--So to the looking-glass man's by the New Exchange.

_January 1, 1669._--Up, and with W. Hewer, to the New Exchange, and then he and I to the cabinet-shops, to look out, and did agree, for a cabinet to give my wife for a New Year's gift, and I did buy one cost me £11.

_January 11, 1669._--Calling at the New Exchange for a book or two to send to Mr Shepley and thence home.... Thence to the New Exchange, to buy some things; and among others my wife did give me my pair of gloves, which, by contract, she is to give me in her £30 a year.

_February 4, 1669._--So to the New Exchange, and thence home to my letters.

_February 15, 1669._--Thence to my cozen Turner's, where, having ... been told by her that she had drawn me for her Valentine, I did this day call at the New Exchange, and bought her a pair of green silk stockings and garters and shoe-strings, and two pair of jessimy gloves, all coming to about 28s.

_March 3, 1669._--After the play we to the New Exchange.

_March 8, 1669._--I had walked to the New Exchange and there met Mr Moore.

_April 7, 1669._--I to the New Exchange to talk with Betty, my little sempstress.

HANNAH MORE AND GARRICK'S FUNERAL

Adelphi, _Feb. 2, 1779_.

We (Miss Cadogan and myself) went to Charing Cross to see the melancholy procession. Just as we got there, we received a ticket from the Bishop of Rochester, to admit us into the Abbey. No admittance could be obtained but under his hand. We hurried away in a hackney coach, dreading to be too late. The bell of St Martin's and the Abbey gave a sound that smote upon my very soul. When we got to the cloisters, we found multitudes striving for admittance. We gave our ticket, and were let in, but unluckily we ought to have kept it. We followed the man, who unlocked a door of iron, and directly closed it upon us and two or three others, and we found ourselves in a tower, with a dark winding staircase, consisting of half a hundred stone steps. When we got to the top there was no way out; we ran down again, called, and beat the door till the whole pile resounded with our cries. Here we staid half an hour in perfect agony; we were sure it would be all over: nay, we might never be let out; we might starve; we might perish. At length our clamours brought an honest man--a guardian angel, I then thought him. We implored him to take care of us, and get us into a part of the Abbey whence we might see the grave. He asked for the Bishop's ticket, we had given it away to the wrong person, and he was not obliged to believe we ever had one: yet he saw so much truth in our grief, that though we were most shabby, and a hundred fine people were soliciting the same favour, he took us under each arm--carried us safely through the crowd, and put us in a little gallery directly over the grave, where we could see and hear everything as distinctly as if the Abbey had been a parlour. Little things sometimes affect the mind strongly! We were no sooner recovered from the fresh burst of grief than I cast my eyes, the first thing, on Handel's monument and read the scroll in his hand, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." Just at three the great doors burst open with a noise that shook the roof; the organ struck up, and the whole choir advanced to the grave, in hoods and surplices, singing all the way: then Sheridan, as chief mourner; then the body (alas! whose body), with ten noblemen and gentlemen, pall-bearers; hardly a dry eye--the very players, bred to the trade of counterfeiting, shed genuine tears.