Kitobni o'qish: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 473, January 29, 1831»

THE STRAND, ANCIENT AND MODERN

(Inscription copied from the original of the annexed Engraving.)

We have often, in our antiquarian notices of the Metropolis, touched upon the olden topography of COVENT GARDEN and THE STRAND, and illustrated our pages with some portion of its history. Thus, in vol. xii. p. 40, the "regular subscriber" will find, an Engraving, and descriptive notes of Old Covent Garden: in vol. xiii. p. 122, he will find a second notice of the same spot; and in the same volume, p. 241, is a whole-page Engraving of the original Somerset House, with ample details of its foundation, the neighbouring district, &c. The reader should turn to these pages, and re-read them in connexion with the few particulars we have now to add.

To aid the first Engraving, with the Strand Cross and Covent Garden, we may quote that—

"Most of the ground occupied by the above parish was, in ancient times (anno 1222), an extensive garden, belonging to the Abbot and Convent of Westminster, and thence called the Convent Garden, from which the present appellation is an evident corruption. This estate, with other contiguous lands of the Abbots, which were originally named the Elms, and afterwards Seven Acres, and Long Acre, having reverted to the town at the Dissolution, was given by Edward the Sixth to his ill-fated uncle, the Duke of Somerset; after whose attainder, as appears from the original Minutes of the Privy Council, there was a patent granted in March, 1552, to John Russell, Earl of Bedford, and Lord Privy Seal, per Bill. Dom. Regis 'of the gift of the Covent, or Convent Garden, lying in the parish of St. Martin in the Fields, near Charing Cross, with seven acres, called Long Acre, of the yearly value of 6l. 6s. 8d., parcel of the possessions of the late Duke of Somerset, to have to him and his heirs, reserving a tenure to the King's Majesty in socage, and not in capite.' Shortly after, the Earl of Bedford erected a mansion, principally of wood, for his town residence, near the bottom of what is now Southampton Street;¹ and that building, which obtained the name of Bedford House, remained till the year 1704: it was inclosed by a brick wall, and had a large garden extending northward, nearly to the site of the present market-place."

The Engraving scarcely requires further explanation. The Royal Procession to the Convent in the distance, with the young King, Edward VI. beneath a canopy, has a picturesque, if not imposing effect. By the way, a Correspondent, who appears to delight in the quaint sublime, tells us that in digging the foundation of the Market just erected in Covent Garden, a quantity of human bones were dug from a rich black mould, at the depth of five feet from the surface, opposite James-street. "The Irish labourers threw them forth, and the sun again gleamed upon the probable particles of holy nuns, till the heavy feet of costermongers, &c. scattered them, and carried the crumbling relics sticking to their muddy heels, throughout the town. This northern portion of the market might probably have been the Convent burial-ground."

A general descriptive outline of the Strand will assist the second view. Malcolm tells us that "the Strand once consisted of palaces for the Monarch, Archbishop, Bishops, a Royal Hospital, and mansions of the nobility. Yet a complaint occurs in the rolls of parliament of the high road between the Temple and the village of Charing being so deep and miry as to be almost impassable." Mr. Brayley, in his interesting Londiniana, gives the following:—

"In ancient times the STRAND was an open space, extending from Temple Bar to the village of Charing, sloping down to the river, and intersected by several streams from the neighbouring high grounds, which in this direction emptied themselves into the Thames. In after ages, when the residence of the court at Westminster had become more frequent, and the Parliament was held there, the Strand, being the road thence from the City, became the site of several magnificent mansions belonging to the nobility and clergy, most of which were situated on the south side, and had large gardens extending to the water's edge.

"The first of these mansions from Temple Bar, was Exeter House, an inn belonging to the Bishops of Exeter, afterwards called Paget House, and Leicester House, and finally Essex House, from being the residence of the favourite of Queen Elizabeth; under the latter appellation it has given name to the street, now built upon the spot where it formerly stood. Between that mansion and the present Milford Lane, was a Chapel, dedicated to the Holy Ghost, called St. Spirit, 'vpon what occasion founded,' says Stow, 'I have not read.'² To the west of this chapel was an Inn, belonging to the Bishop of Bath, called Hampton Place, and afterwards Arundel House, standing on the site of the present Arundel Street.—Further to the westward was an Inn of Chancery, called Chester's Inn, and Strand Inn, near which the Bishop of Landaff had also an Inn. At a short distance from the latter place was the Strand Bridge; 'and vnder it,' says Stow, 'a lane or way down to the landing-place on the bank of the Thames,'³ the site of which is still marked by Strand Lane. Not far from the bridge stood the Bishops of Chester's Inn ('commonly called Lichfield and Couentrie.'⁴), and adjoining it the Bishop of Worcester's Inn, both of which were pulled down by the Protector Somerset, in 1549, when he erected Somerset House.⁵ Opposite the Bishop of Worcester's Inn formerly stood a stone cross, at which, says Stow, 'the justices itinerants sate without London.'⁶ Near this spot afterwards was erected the May Pole, which was removed in 1713.⁷ The next mansion was the Palace of the Savoy, adjoining to the walls of which were the gardens of the Bishop Carlisle's Inn, afterwards called Worcester House, now the site of Beaufort Buildings. The next in succession was Salisbury House, which has given name to Salisbury and Cecil Streets. Proceeding onwards, and passing over Ivy Bridge, the magnificent structure of Durham House presented itself, which at one period was a royal palace. Nearly adjoining was an Inn belonging to the Bishops of Norwich, afterwards called York House, from becoming the residence of the Archbishops of York, when their former mansion at Whitehall was converted into a royal palace by Henry the Eighth. York Stairs, at the bottom of Buckingham Street, still marks the water-gate of the estate, which subsequently became the property of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, whose names and titles are perpetuated in the various streets, &c. built upon it. The last mansion near the village of Charing, and now the only remaining one, was called Northampton House, afterwards Suffolk House, and now Northumberland House, from being the residence of the Dukes of Northumberland.

"On the north side, the Strand presented but few houses of note. Wimbledon House, on the spot lately occupied by D'Oyley's Warehouse, which had been erected by Sir Edward Cecil, was burnt down in 1628. At a little distance, westward, was Burghley House, afterwards Exeter House, and now partly occupied by Exeter 'Change; on the other part, and its attached ground, were erected the several streets and alleys receiving names from the Cecil family."

THE LAST WISH

(For the Mirror.)

Edward Rose, who died at Barnes, bequeathed an annual amount of 20l. to the parish, on condition that rose-trees should be planted round his tomb.

Vide Crofton Croker.

 
Ay! o'er them shall the soft wind blow,
And kiss their lips of bloom—
The fair, the bright in sunset's glow;
—Plant roses on my tomb.
 
 
The cypress is a mournful tree,
And bodes an early doom;
But lovely eyes shall weep o'er me;
—Plant roses o'er my tomb.
 
 
When feverish dreams assail with dread
The bosom's haunted gloom,
Oh, why should we lament the dead?
—Plant roses on my tomb.
 
 
The birds shall sing, amid their leaves,
To skies of richest bloom;
But cypress-shade the spirit grieves;—
—Plant roses on my tomb.
 
 
I loved them when a careless child,
And bless'd their deep perfume,
When lute and song my dreams beguiled;
—Plant roses on my tomb.
 
 
The fragrance touch'd with golden light,
And beautified with bloom;—
Oh, plant them in the sunset bright,
To consecrate my tomb.
 

R.A.⁸

HALCYON DAYS

(To the Editor.)

In illustration of your correspondent P.T.W.'s article, entitled "Halcyon Days," in No. 471, I beg to furnish you with the following, from a friend's album:—

 
There is a bird, a little bird, of plumage bright and gay,
Free as the tenants of the sea, free as its finny prey;
In wintry storms she lays her eggs, the briny sands among,
And twice seven days sweet calms succeed where billows roared along.
These are the sailor's Halcyon Days, when pleasure's on the main;
The young ones hatched, the storm appears, and Boreas rules again.
 

H.H.C.