[98] Ibid., vol. ii., p. 271.

[99] Spence's Anecdotes, Singer's edit. p. 355.

[100] Swift's Works, _ut supra_, vol. iv., p. 41.

[101] _Tatler_, No. 142. According to the author of a lively rattling book, conversant with the furniture of old times, Arbuthnot was a great amateur in sticks. "My uncle," says he, "was universally allowed to be as deeply skilled in caneology as any one, Dr. Arbuthnot not excepted, whose science on important questions was quoted even after his death; for his collection of the various headed sticks and canes, from the time of the first Charles, taken together, was unrivalled."--_Wine and Walnuts_, vol. i., p. 242.

[102] Tatler, No. 86.

[103] Spence's Anecdotes, by Singer, p. 337.

[104] Ibid.

[105] Tatler, as above, vol. iv., p. 600.

[106] Censura Literaria, vol. iv., p. 345.

[107] Imitations of Horace, Ep. i., book ii.

[108] Pennant, _ut supra_, p. 172.

[109] Faerie Queen, book vi., canto iii.

[110] Britannia's Pastorals, book i., song iii.

[111] Londinium Redivivum, vol. ii., p. 279.

[112] See Malcolm's Londinium Redivivum, vol. iii., 453.

[113] Boswell, _ut supra_, vol. i., p. 441.

[114] Malone, on the pa.s.sage in Boswell, ibid.

[115] Boswell, vol. ii., p. 117.

[116] Beauclerk, of the St. Alban's family, was a descendant of Charles II., whom he resembled in face and complexion, for which Johnson by no means liked him the less.

[117] Anecdotes of Samuel Johnson, &c. Allman, 1822, p. 69.

[118] Boswell, vol. iii., p. 398.

[119] Johnson's Court runs into Gough Square, "a place lately built with very handsome houses, and well inhabited by persons of fashion."--_Maitland's History and Survey of London_, by Entick, folio, 1756 p. 961.

[120] Boswell, vol. i., p. 384.

[121] Boswell, vol. i., p. 400.

[122] Id., p. 408.

[123] Boswell, vol. ii., p. 469.

[124] Boswell, vol. ii., p. 455.

[125] Ibid., vol. iv., p. 77.

[126] Ibid., vol. iii., p. 327.

CHAPTER IV.

THE STRAND.

Ancient State of the Strand -- Butcher Row -- Death of Lee, the dramatic Poet -- Johnson at an Eating-House -- Ess.e.x Street -- House and History of the favourite Earl of Ess.e.x -- Spenser's Visit there -- Ess.e.x, General of the Parliament -- Ess.e.x Head Club -- Devereux Court -- Grecian Coffee-House -- Twining, the accomplished Scholar -- St. Clement Danes -- Clement's Inn -- Falstaff and Shallow -- Norfolk, Arundel, Surrey, and Howard Streets -- Norfolk House -- Ess.e.x's Ring and the Countess of Nottingham -- William Penn -- Birch -- Dr. Brocklesby -- Congreve, and his Will -- Voltaire's Visit to him -- Mrs.

Bracegirdle -- Tragical End of Mountford the Player -- Ancient Cross -- Maypole -- New Church of St. Mary-le-Strand -- Old Somerset House -- Henrietta Maria and her French Household -- Waller's Mishap at Somerset Stairs -- New Somerset House -- Royal Society, Antiquarian Society, and Royal Academy -- Death of Dr. King -- Exeter Street -- Johnson's first Lodging in London -- Art of living in London -- Catherine Street -- Unfortunate Women -- Wimbledon House -- Lyceum and Beef-steak Club -- Exeter Change -- Bed and Baltimore -- The Savoy -- Anecdotes of the d.u.c.h.ess of Albemarle -- Beaufort Buildings -- Lillie, the Perfumer -- Aaron Hill -- Fielding -- Southampton Street -- Cecil and Salisbury Streets -- Durham House -- Raleigh -- Pennant on the Word Place or Palace -- New Exchange -- Don Pantaleon Sa -- The White Milliner -- Adelphi -- Garrick and his Wife -- Beauclerc -- Society of Arts, and Mr. Barry -- Bedford Street -- George, Villiers, and Buckingham Streets -- York House and Buildings -- Squabble between the Spanish and French Amba.s.sadors -- Hungerford Market -- Craven Street -- Franklin -- Northumberland House -- Duplicity of Henry, Earl of Northampton -- Violence of Lord Herbert of Cherbury -- Percy, Bishop of Dromore -- Pleasant mistake of Goldsmith.

In going through Fleet Street and the Strand, we seldom think that the one is named after a rivulet, now running under ground, and the other from its being on the banks of the river Thames. As little do most of us fancy that there was once a line of n.o.blemen's houses on the one side, and that, at the same time, all beyond the other side, to Hampstead or Highgate, was open country, with the little hamlet of St.

Giles's in a copse. So late as the reign of Henry VIII. we have a print containing the vill a of Charing. Citizens used to take an evening stroll to the well now in St. Clement's Inn.

In the reign of Edward III. the Strand was an open country road, with a mansion here and there, on the banks of the river Thames, most probably a castle or stronghold. In this state it no doubt remained during the greater part of the York and Lancaster period. From Henry VII.'s time the castles most likely began to be exchanged for mansions of a more peaceful character. These gradually increased; and in the reign of Edward VI. the Strand consisted, on the south side, of a line of mansions with garden walls; and on the north, of a single row of houses, behind which all was field. The reader is to imagine wall all the way from Temple Bar to Whitehall, on his left hand, like that of Kew Palace, or a succession of Burlington Gardens; while the line of humbler habitations stood on the other side, like a row of servants in waiting.

As wealth increased, not only the importance of rank diminished, and the n.o.bles were more content to recollect James's advice of living in the country (where, he said, they looked like ships in a river, instead of ships at sea), but the value of ground about London, especially on the river side, was so much augmented, that the proprietors of these princely mansions were not unwilling to turn the premises into money. The civil wars had given another jar to the stability of their abodes in the metropolis; and in Charles the Second's time the great houses finally gave way, and were exchanged for streets and wharfs. An agreeable poet of the last century lets us know that he used to think of this great change in going up the Strand.

"Come, Fortescue, sincere, experienc'd friend, Thy briefs, thy deeds, and e'en thy fees suspend; Come, let us leave the Temple's silent walls; Me, business to my distant lodging calls; Through the long Strand together let us stray; With thee conversing, I forget the way.

Behold that narrow street which steep descends, Whose building to the slimy sh.o.r.e extends; Here Arundel's fam'd structure rear'd its fame: The street alone retains the empty name.

Where t.i.tian's glowing paint the canva.s.s warmed, And Raphael's fair design with judgment charmed, Now hangs the bellman's song; and pasted here The coloured prints of Overton appear.

Where statues breathed, the works of Phidias' hands, A wooden pump, or lonely watch-house stands.

There Ess.e.x's stately pile adorned the sh.o.r.e, There Cecil's, Bedford's, Villiers',--now no more."[127]

As the aspect in this quarter is so different from what it was, and the quarter is one of the most important in the metropolis, we may add what Pennant has written on the subject:--

"In the year 1353, that fine street the Strand was an open highway, with here and there a great man's house, with gardens to the water's side. In that year it was so ruinous, that Edward III., by an ordinance, directed a tax to be raised upon wool, leather, wine, and all goods carried to the staple at Westminster, from Temple Bar to Westminster Abbey, for the repair of the road; and that all owners of houses adjacent to the highway should repair as much as lay before their doors.

Mention is also made of a bridge to be erected near the royal palace at Westminster, for the conveniency of the said staple; but the last probably meant no more than stairs for the landing of the goods, which I find sometimes went by the name of a bridge.

"There was no continued street here till about the year 1533; before that it entirely cut off Westminster from London, and nothing intervened except the 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 after times 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, of which many to this day bear the names of the houses. As the court was for centuries either at the palace at Westminster, or Whitehall, a boat was the customary conveyance of the great to the presence of their sovereign. 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. These are circ.u.mstances proper to point out, to show the vast increase of our capital in little more than two centuries."[128]

The aspect of the Strand, on emerging through Temple Bar, is very different from what it was forty years ago. "A stranger who had visited London in 1790, would on his return in 1804," says Mr.

Malcolm, "be astonished to find a s.p.a.cious area (with the church nearly in the centre) on the site of Butcher Row, and some other pa.s.sages undeserving of the name of streets, which were composed of those wretched fabrics, overhanging their foundations, the receptacles of dirt in every corner of their projecting stories, the bane of ancient London, where the plague, with all its attendant horrors, frowned destruction on the miserable inhabitants, reserving its forces for the attacks of each returning summer."[129]

The site of Butcher Row, thus advantageously thrown open, is called Pickett Street, after the alderman who projected the improvements.

Unfortunately they turned out to be on too large a scale; that is to say, the houses were found to be too large and expensive for the right side of the Strand in this quarter; the tide of traffic between the city and Westminster flowing the other side of the way. The consequence is, that the houses are under-let, and that something of the old squalid look remains in the turning towards Clement's Inn, in spite of the pillared entrance.

Butcher Row, however squalid, contained houses worth eating and drinking in. Johnson frequented an eating-house there; and, according to Oldys, it was "in returning from the Bear and Harrow in Butcher Row, through Clare Market, to his lodgings in Duke Street, that Lee, the dramatic poet, overladen with wine, fell down (on the ground, as some say--according to others, on a bulk), and was killed, or stifled in the snow. He was buried in the parish church of St. Clement Danes, aged about thirty-five years."[130] "He was a very handsome as well as ingenious man," says Oldys, "but given to debauchery, which necessitated a milk diet. When some of his university comrades visited him, he fell to drinking out of all measure, which, flying up into his head, caused his face to break out into those carbuncles which were afterwards observed there; and also touched his brain, occasioning that madness so much lamented in so rare a genius. Tom Brown says, he wrote, while he was in Bedlam, a play of twenty-five acts; and Mr.

Bowman tells me that, going once to visit him there, Lee showed him a scene, 'in which,' says he, 'I have done a miracle for you.' 'What's that?' said Bowman. 'I have made you a good priest.'"

Oldys mentions another of his mad sayings, but does not tell us with whom it pa.s.sed.