Part 8

We are now in the diminutive parish of St. George the Martyr, carved out of that of St. Andrew's, Holborn, and originally including Red Lion Square and the streets adjacent.

Gloucester Street was named after Queen Anne's sickly little son, the only one of her seventeen children who survived infancy. Robert Nelson, author of "Fasts and Festivals," was at one time a resident. The street is narrow and dirty, lined by old brick houses; here and there is a carved doorway with brackets, showing that, like most streets in the vicinity, it was better built than now inhabited, and it is probable that where sickly children now sprawl on doorsteps stately ladies in hoops and silken skirts once stepped forth. St. George's National Schools are here, and a public-house with the odd name of Hole in the Wall, a name adopted by Mr. Morrison in his recent novel about Wapping.

Queen Square was built in Queen Anne's reign, and named in her honour, but it is a statue of Queen Charlotte that stands beneath the plane-trees in the centre.

When it was first built, much eulogy was bestowed upon it, because of the beautiful view to the Hampstead and Highgate Hills, for which reason the north side was left open; it is still open, but the prospect it commands is only the further side of Guilford Street. The Square is a favourite place for charitable institutions. On the east side was, until 1902, a College for Working Men and Women, designed to aid by evening classes the studies of those who are busy all day.

The Hospital for Paralysis and Epilepsy is on the same side. This was instituted in 1859, but the present building was in 1885 opened by the Prince of Wales, and is a memorial to the Duke of Albany, and a very splendid memorial it is. The building, which occupies a very large space along the side of the Square, is ornately built of red brick and terra-cotta, with handsome balconies and a porch of the latter material. There are four wards for men and five for women, with two small surgical wards; also two contributing wards for patients who can afford to pay something toward their expenses.

Almost exactly opposite, across the Square, is a new red-brick building. This is the Alexandra Hospital, for children with hip disease, and sometimes a wan little face peeps out of the windows.

On the south side is the Italian Hospital, lately rebuilt on a fine scale. There are other institutions and societies in the Square, such as the Royal Female School of Art, but none that call for any special comment.

Among the eminent inhabitants of the Square were Dr. Stukeley, the antiquary, appointed Rector of the church, 1747--he lived here from the following year until his death in 1765; Dr. Askew; and John Campbell, author, and friend of Johnson, who used to give Sunday evening "conversation parties," where the great Doctor met "shoals of Scotchmen."

The Church of St. George the Martyr stands on the west side of the Square, facing the open space at the south end. It was founded in 1706 by private subscription as a chapel of ease to St. Andrew, and was named in honour of one of the founders, who had been Governor of Fort George, on the coast of Coromandel. "The Martyr" was added to distinguish it from the other St. George in the vicinity. It was accepted as one of the fifty new churches by the Commissioners in Queen Anne's reign, was consecrated in 1723, and had a district assigned to it. It was entirely rearranged and restored in 1868, and has lately been repainted. It is a most peculiar-looking church, with a spire cased in zinc. Small figures of angels embellish some points of vantage, and the symbols of the four Evangelists appear in niches. The windows are round-headed, with tracery of a peculiarly ugly type; but the interior is better than the exterior, and has lately been repaired and redecorated throughout.

Powis House originally stood where Powis Place, Great Ormond Street, now is. This was built by the second Marquis or Duke of Powis, even before he had sold his Lincoln's Inn Fields house to the Duke of Newcastle, for he was living here in 1708. The second Duke was, like his father, a Jacobite, and had suffered much for his loyalty to the cause, having endured imprisonment in the Tower, but he was eventually restored to his position and estates. The house was burnt down in 1714, when the Duc d'Aumont, French Ambassador, was tenant, and it was believed that the fire was the work of an incendiary. The French King, Louis XIV., caused it to be rebuilt at his own cost, though insurance could have been claimed. In 1777 this later building was taken down.

Lord Chancellor Thurlow lived in this street at No. 46, and it was from this house, now the Working Men's College, that the Great Seal was stolen and never recovered.

Dr. Mead, a well-known physician, had a house here, afterwards occupied by the Hospital for Sick Children.

The Working Men's College began at the instigation of a barrister in 1848, and was fathered by the Rev. F. D. Maurice, who was Principal until his death. It grew rapidly, and in 1856 became affiliated to London University. The adjacent house was bought, in 1870 additional buildings were erected, and four years later the institution received a charter of incorporation. Maurice was succeeded in the principalship by Thomas Hughes, and Hughes by Lord Avebury, then Sir John Lubbock.

The Hospital for Sick Children is a red-brick building designed by Sir C. Barry. Within, the wards are lined by glazed tiles, and the floors are of parquet. Each ward is named after some member of the Royal Family--Helena, Alice, etc. The children are received at any age, and the beds are well filled. Everything, it is needless to say, is in the beautifully bright and cleanly style which is associated with the modern hospital. The chapel is particularly beautiful; it is the gift of Mr. W. H. Barry, a brother of the architect, and the walls are adorned with frescoes above inlaid blocks of veined alabaster.

The Homoeopathic Hospital, which is on the same side of the street nearer to the Square, is another large and noticeable building. This is the only hospital of the kind in London. The present building occupies the site of three old houses, one of which was the residence of Zachary Macaulay, father of the historian. There are in all seven wards, two for men, three for women, one for girls, and one for children. The children's ward is as pretty as any private nursery could be. The hospital is absolutely free, and the out-patient department exceptionally large.

In Great Ormond Street there are also one or two Benefit Societies, Manchester Unity Independent Order of Oddfellows for the North London District, and many sets of chambers. This district seems particularly favourable to the growth of charitable institutions.

Lamb's Conduit Street is called after one Lamb, who built a conduit here in 1577. This was a notable work in the days when the water-supply was a very serious problem. Thus, a very curious name is accounted for in a matter-of-fact way. In Queen Anne's time the fields around here formed a favourite promenade for the citizens when the day's work was done.

The parish of St. George, Bloomsbury, which lies westward of St. George the Martyr, is considerably larger than its neighbour. The derivation of this name is generally supposed to be a corruption of Blemund's Fee, from one William de Blemund, who was Lord of the Manor in Henry VI.'s reign. Stow and others have written the word "Loomsbury," or "Lomesbury," but this seems to be due to careless orthography, and not to indicate any ancient rendering.

The earliest holder of the manor of whom we have any record is the De Blemund mentioned above. There are intermediate links missing at a later date, but with the possession of the Southampton family in the very beginning of the seventeenth century the history becomes clear again. In 1668 the manor passed into the hands of the Bedfords by marriage with the heiress of the Southamptons. This family also held St. Giles's, which, it will be remembered, was originally also part of the Prebendary of St. Paul's.

The Royal Mews was established at Bloomsbury (Lomesbury) from very early times to 1537, when it was burnt down and the mews removed to the site of the present National Gallery (see The Strand, same series).

The parish is largely composed of squares, containing three large and two small ones, from which nearly all the streets radiate. The British Museum forms an imposing block in the centre. This is on the site of Montague House, built for the first Baron Montague, and burnt to the ground in 1686. It was rebuilt again in great magnificence, with painted ceilings, according to the taste of the time, and Lord Montague, then Duke of Montague, died in it in 1709. The house and gardens occupied seven acres. The son and heir of the first Duke built for himself a mansion at Whitehall (see Westminster, same series, p. 83), and Montague House was taken down in 1845, when the present buildings of the Museum were raised in its stead.

The Museum has rather a curious history. Like many of our national institutions, it was the result of chance, and not of a detailed scheme. In 1753 Sir Hans Sloane, whose name is associated so strongly with Chelsea, died, and left a splendid collection comprising "books, drawings, manuscripts, prints, medals, seals, cameos, precious stones, rare vessels, mathematical instruments, and pictures," which had cost him something like L50,000. By his will Parliament was to have the first refusal of this collection for L20,000. Though it was in the reign of the needy George II., the sum was voted, and by the same Act was bought the Harleian collection of MSS. to add to it; to this was added the Cottonian Library of MSS., and the nation had a ready-made collection. The money to pay for the Sloane and Harleian collections was raised by an easy method of which modern morals do not approve--that is to say, by lottery. Many suggestions were made as to the housing of this national collection. Buckingham House, now Buckingham Palace, was spoken of, also the old Palace Yard; of course, the modern Houses of Parliament were not then built. Eventually Montague House was bought, and the Museum was opened to the public in 1757. However, it had not ceased growing. George III. presented some antiquities, which necessitated the opening of a new department; to these were added the Hamilton and Townley antiquities by purchase, and in 1816 the Elgin Marbles were taken in temporarily. On the death of George III., George IV. presented his splendid library, known as the King's Library, to the Museum, not from any motive of generosity, but because he did not in the least appreciate it. Greville, in his Journal (1823), says: "The King had even a design of selling the library collected by the late King, but this he was obliged to abandon, for the Ministers and the Royal Family must have interposed to oppose so scandalous a transaction. It was therefore presented to the British Museum."

It then became necessary to pull down Montague House and build a Museum worthy of the treasures to be enshrined. Sir Robert Smirke was the architect, and the present massive edifice is from his designs. The buildings cost more than L800,000.

As this is no guide-book, no attempt is made to classify the departments of the Museum or to indicate its riches. These may be found by experiment, or read in the official guides to be bought on the spot.

On the east is Montague Street, running into Russell Square.

Southampton House, the ancient manor-house, celebrated for the famous lime-trees surrounding it, stood on the ground now occupied by Bedford Place. Noorthouck describes it as "elegant though low, having but one storey." It is commonly supposed to have been the work of Inigo Jones. When the property came into the Bedford family, it was occasionally called Russell House, after their family name. Maitland says that, when he wrote, one of the Parliamentary forts, two batteries, and a breastwork, remained in the garden. The house was demolished in 1800, and Russell Square was begun soon after. A double row of the lime-trees belonging to Bedford House had extended over the site of this Square. All this ground had previously been known as Southampton Fields, or Long Fields, and was the resort of low classes of the people, who here fought their pitched battles, generally on Sundays. It was known during the period of Monmouth's Rebellion as the Field of the Forty Footsteps, owing to the tradition that two brothers killed each other here in a duel, while the lady who was the cause of the conflict looked on. Subsequently no grass grew on the spots where the brothers had planted their feet.

Southey, in his "Commonplace Book," thus narrates his own visit to the spot:

"We sought for near half an hour in vain. We could find no steps at all within a quarter of a mile, no, nor half a mile, of Montague House. We were almost out of hope, when an honest man, who was at work, directed us to the next ground, adjoining to a pond. There we found what we sought, about three-quarters of a mile north of Montague House, and 500 yards east of Tottenham Court Road. The steps are of the size of a large human foot, about three inches deep, and lie nearly from north-east to south-west. We counted only seventy-six; but we were not exact in counting. The place where one or both the brothers are supposed to have fallen is still bare of grass. The labourer also showed us where (the tradition is) the wretched woman sat to see the combat." Southey adds his full confidence in the tradition of the indestructibility of the steps, even after ploughing up, and of the conclusions to be drawn from the circumstance (Notes and Queries, No. 12).