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poet and prince, taken prisoner at Agin-iature-portrait painters which died out with court, was consigned. Thirteen shillings Sir William Ross-photography having and fourpence a day, allotted for the barred all further succession might be prisoner's keep would not go far towards seen going proudly to Puddle Dock to paint maintaining a duke in the present day; the portrait of that semi-royal lady. Somebut the shillings which the Duke spent in times he had to return disappointed, the vithe City would be represented now by vacious Arabella having gone off to her disnearly as many pounds, and doubtless all tant country-house at Chelsea, without letThames Street rejoiced at the liberal way ting Hilliard know of her absence. It was in which the money was spent. The in- near Puddle Dock that Shakespeare's Lonhabitants rejoiced, too, when this Duke of don house stood, which he left to the bestSuffolk married Alice, the granddaughter loved of his children, Susannah Hall. The of Chaucer, and for the second time a fashion of the place waned; but as late widow-now of a late Earl of Salisbury. as the reign of Charles II. it had its adThis was the Suffolk, too, with whom mirers. When Clodpate, in Shadwell's the glory of Suffolk Lane passed away. comedy "Epsom Wells," refers to LonHe was beheaded at sea. His son, Duke don as "that stinking town!" Lucia exJohn, died of grief at the ruin of his fam-claims: "That stinking town! I had ily; and yet he may have thought that the rather be Countess of Puddle Dock than City had never seen such glory as he was Queen of Sussex!" likely to bring to it, after his marriage From Puddle Dock to the Tower was, with Elizabeth Plantagenet, sister of Ed- in the olden time, the chosen abiding-place ward IV. and Richard III. The eldest of noble personages. There were buildson of this marriage (John de la Pole) was ings there so magnificent in their solidity thought of by Richard for his successor as and age, that the common people, who had King of England; but the Battle of Stoke, no doubt about Julius Cæsar having been at which Richard's nephew was slain, fight- in London, ascribed them all to that illusing against Henry VII., prevented Eng- trious stranger. When the native princes land from chronicling the reign of a John of Wales came up to the metropolis, they the Second. John's brother Edmund, were superbly housed in this locality. The known as Earl of Suffolk, was the fugitive fact was long kept in memory by the popwhom Spain, with almost as little honour ular name given to the place - Petty and honesty then as she has now, basely Wales. In like manner, Scotland Yard, surrendered to Henry VII., who murdered now head-quarters of the Metropolitan Pohim on the scaffold to get rid of a possible lice, has its name from the circumstance pretender to the crown. Edmund had of its having once been the spot where three brothers surviving him: Richard, Scottish princes dwelt, on their repairing who fought under France against Eng- to London, on business or pleasure. Keepland; and Humphrey and Edward, who ing closer, as we wish to confine ourselves were quiet scholars at Cambridge, and to the City, we must not omit to mention published no pretensions even to be lords Little Britain. The Earls or Dukes of of Suffolk Lane. Edward attained no Brittany, when they were intimately conhigher dignity than Archdeacon of Richmond, in Yorkshire. Humphrey died without a history. The name of a lane in the City, if the lane still exists as we write, is all the memorial left of the brilliant fortunes and the gloomy fate of the once powerful family of De la Pole!

That family ennobled Suffolk Lane. It sufficed for a lady alone to glorify Puddle Dock. In that place once stood a mansion inhabited by no less distinguished a personage than the Lady Arabella Stuart, the first-cousin of James I., and so near to the crown besides, as a descendant of Henry VII. that James, unable to get rid of her by the scaffold, killed her by slow degrees and long confinement in the Tower. When Arabella lived in Puddle Dock, it was, of course, a fashionable locality. Hilliard, the first of that noble line of English min

nected with this Greater Britain, resided in that vicinity to Aldersgate. When those great personages ceased to live there occasionally, and to gather fashionable crowds around them, the place fell into the hands of the sellers of old books. The shops were morning and afternoon clubs where scholars and wits, and the booksellers themselves, as witty and scholarly as their visitors, made the day pass gloriously, while business went on none the less briskly. Earls and bishops and other members of the higher classes long continued to resort to Little Britain, though they may not have had dwelling-houses there. It was in or near Little Britain that Izaak Walton met Bishop Sanderson in sad-coloured clothes. The prelate had been looking for books, and was glad to have a gossip with Izaak. They stood

talking in the street, till wind and rain | ing of whom is as naturally laid to Dudley, drove them for shelter beneath a pent- Earl of Leicester, as the desecration of house. They were driven thence by in churches is charged on Oliver Cromwell. crease of the storm, and they found genial shelter in "a cleanly house," where they had bread and cheese and ale, as they sat and continued their conversation by a good fire! We all know how Walton could talk, and we may judge of Sanderson's gifts by the double testimony of Izaak and King Charles. When Sanderson, as chaplain to that unlucky king, used to preach before him, Charles once said: "I carry my ears to hear other preachers, but I carry my conscience to hear Mr. Sanderson, and to act accordingly." Before that time, Sanderson was only Rector of Boothby Pagnell. Walton described him and his charge in these words: "His parish, his patron, and he lived together in a religious love and a continued quietness." Quaint must have been the gossip of the bishop and the Fleet Street hosier and angler. But what would now be said if the world were told that the present Bishop of London and even such an accomplished fisherman as Mr. John Bright, had been, any night or day in the year, drinking their ale, eating their crust of bread and cheese, and gossiping over the fire, at any tavern within the most refined part of the metropolitan district?

But even still more fruitful of good results was the accidental visit of the Earl of Dorset to the once aristocratic Little Britain. He went thither, like Bishop Sanderson, in search of books to his taste; and it was while they were being looked out for him that the earl, by the merest chance, took up a volume which happened to lie before him. Dorset opened the book, and his eye fell upon passages which arrested his attention, and excited in him the utmost delight. He bought the work. He had never heard of it, but there was something in this "Paradise Lost," by one John Milton, which induced him to think he had discovered a treasure. "If your lordship," said the bookseller, can say anything in favour of the book, after reading it, I shall be glad, for the copies lie on hand, like waste paper." My lord did read, did like, and did talk of this marvellous poem- which is now much more talked of than read. He sent it to Dryden, and Dryden returned it with the remark," This man cuts us all out, and the ancients too!"

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In an earlier period of the locality, Sir
Thomas Cromwell, desiring to live like a
noble - which even the earldom of Essex
could not make him built himself a
stately mansion here, with a garden run-
ning northward. The garden was not
spacious enough for either his mind or
body. It abutted on the garden-grounds
in which stood humbler houses than his
own, and these Sir Thomas coveted, to do
as he pleased with. Sir Thomas was
quite as high-handed a man as his master,
as the sequel showed. A host of diggers
and delvers and builders suddenly took
possession of the place. They lifted Sir
Thomas's pales, and struck them in two-
and-twenty feet farther north, taking so
much of other men's land, without caring
to ask their consent and without any fear
of their displeasure. A house stood in
their way: it was that of the father of
Stowe the chronicler, and it stood in a
pretty garden, close to Cromwell's pales.
While the owner was absent, Cromwell's
men lifted this house out of the ground,
placed rollers under it, and moved it above
a score of feet northward. When old
Stowe returned home, his house and gar-
den seemed to have been turned round.
So did the old man's head; but when that
recovered from the confusion into which it
was temporarily thrown, he went to the
surveyors of the work, and begged to know
by what right they had moved his house
and cut off a full half of his garden. While
the navvies of that day drew their line, cut
their trench, laid a foundation, and built
thereon a high brick wall, the surveyors
told Stowe that they had done what they
had done because their master, Sir Thomas,
had commanded them so to do.
durst go to argue the matter," says the son
of the despoiled; "but each man lost his
land, and my father paid his whole rent,
which was 6s. 6d. a year, for that half
which was left." Stowe speaks of his own
knowledge, and assigns as one of his
reasons for so speaking (having both the
rise and fall of Cromwell in his mind), to
remind good folk "that the sudden rising
of some men causeth them in some matters
to forget themselves."

"No man

Old Stowe's rent multiplied by twenty, for its present equivalent, does not seem high. In the present day, the value of Old Fashion and present Fact present that very same land, and indeed of land in themselves to our mind as we pass through the City generally, is arbitrary; there is Throgmorton Street. It acquired its name no standard valuation. It is not long since from Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, the poison- the Corporation of London bought the

ground-rent of the Mansion House at tough discussion over the matter; but the thirty-three years' purchase. In one part result was that the former agreed to give of Lombard Street, land was lately being thirty-five thousand pounds for Beta's sold at twenty pounds per foot, while in property, which he was half inclined to another part land of the same quality was part from! Thus far all went on in a busibeing bought at fifty-five pounds per foot. nesslike way. Alpha gave his cheque to Many are the illustrations of fancy and the original seller for ten thousand pounds, speculative prices being asked and given and took Beta's for double the money; for land, the old-fashionable occupiers of while Beta received Gamma's cheque for which never dreamed of, as they kept their thirty-five thousand pounds, and pocketed state where merchants now have their the difference. All these transactions counting-houses. Very few years have were accomplished in about a week or ten elapsed since a speculator waited on the days. After a little further lapse of time owner of certain houses in the City, and Beta meets Gamma, and sympathetically offered him ten thousand pounds for the asks, “What are you going to do with whole. The offer was refused. A second that property?" "Well," replies Gamma, speculator appeared; he offered twelve in a cool indifferent sort of way, on secthousand pounds, and his offer and money ond thoughts, I didn't care about keeping were accepted. After this bargain was it; and so I have let it go, at a sacrifice! concluded, Speculator No. 1 reappeared to "Would it be impertinent to ask what you renew negotiations. Being told that the call a sacrifice?" "Not at all," was the affair was closed, he found out the pur- frank reply of candid Gamma. "I let it chaser, reopened the business, and after go dirt cheap, considering its real value! much conference he bought for twenty I was satisfied with obtaining fifty thouthousand pounds what he might have had sand pounds for it!" "Oh! were you originally for half the money! Speculator No. 2 thus made the pretty profit of eight thousand pounds, with much ease and to his perfect satisfaction.

There is a more recent and perhaps a more singular instance of these speculative bargains: property being both bought and sold, and money being put into instead of being taken from the pocket throughout each stage of the process, except the final one. In one of the large city thoroughfares, where several fine old wrecks of mansions testify to the pristine splendour of the scene, a block of those ancient seats of grandeur was to be sold. A purchaser presented himself; we will call him Alpha. His offer of ten thousand pounds was taken, and the money was to be paid within a certain number of days. On his way home Alpha meets Beta, and informs him of what he had bought, but not of the price paid. "Do you mean to keep the property, or sell it?" asked Beta. "I don't mind parting with it for twenty thousand pounds," answered Alpha. Beta tried a little fencing; but he knew the value of the property, and he ultimately gave the sum demanded for it. A day or two after, Gamma receives a note from Beta, to state that he has certain houses and land in his possession, which he is half-inclined to part with; will Gamma go and look at it for himself, and make an offer if he is inclined to purchase? Gamma went; his practised eye saw the value of what was for sale, and the future profit that could be made out of it. Gamma and Beta had

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The

really?" gasped Beta; "delighted to hear
it! I told you you would make your
money out of the purchase, when you
bought the property of me."
"Have you
any more to sell?" asked Gamma.
last was, in fact, well-content with the way
he turned his bargain. Beta laughed, and
expressed himself satisfied too. He hur-
ried off to Alpha, and said to him, "Now
that the business is closed and done be-
tween you and me, will you tell me what
was the original price you paid for the
property you sold me?" "With all the
pleasure in life," answered Alpha. "I
gave ten thousand pounds for it."-"Now
I'll tell you something in return. You
know I gave you double that sum. I sold
at a profit of fifteen thousand pounds to
Gamma, of whom old Delta has purchased
it for fifty thousand!" Alpha had reaped
cent. per cent., but his heart sank within
him. He calculated the harvest he might
have gathered, and became depressed and
altogether out of tune. A fixed but not a
pleasing melancholy seems to enshroud
him; and when he is asked for a subscrip-
tion that may help to alleviate some wide-
spreading devastation, he smiles a sad
smile, shakes his head slowly, and apolo-
getically remarks, "Have you forgotten
that I lost forty thousand pounds in a
speculation some time ago?" He is posi-
tive to this day, that if he had met Delta
first, instead of only doubling his outlay,
as he had done by encountering Beta, he
would have multiplied it by five. He for-
got his real gain in his hypothetical loss,

and ever since he has refused to be comforted.

Quebec Street. In very early days young English princes lived at Stepney. In the days of the Prince Regent his daughter lived in Oxford Street. The extreme east and the extreme western street no longer belong to royal or fashionable London.

From The Spectator.

It would require a volume, and a large one, to point out all the spots in the City which were once the seats of fashion and of fashionable people. We have suggested a few only, our space not permitting more. The course of Fashion has set in westward. There was a time when the proper thing to do was to "ride in a coach" round and round Covent Garden. For a time after that now melancholy-looking thoroughfare, THE QUEEN OF THE FRENCH.* Tavistock Street, was built, Fashion took THE list of Bourbon memoirs which the such possession of it that the block of car- last few years have furnished to the sturiages in the afternoon was worse than dents of the great European catastrophes anything to be witnessed in that way, at of our and our fathers' generation is comthe highest of the season, in Hyde Park. pleted by this very lucid and interesting Bond Street succeeded, till Regent Street volume. That it suggests matter of presousted Bond Street from the proud pre-ent political interest is shown by the first eminence. The nobleman who now lives edition having sold out so rapidly that most to the eastward is the Duke of North- when a few days after publication a copy umberland. A duke in the Strand seems was inquired for on behalf of the Spectator, infra dig.; but when the Strand was really it had to be produced from M. Levy's the open strand of the then silvery Thames, dukes and earls were by no means uncommon there. It is not very many years since we had a king and queen living nearer to Temple Bar than the Duke of Northumberland. It must be confessed that the royal pair were of a fishy quality. They were the King and Queen of the Sandwich Islands, and they lived in the hotel at the corner of Adam Street, Adelphi. On their first visit to the theatre, Covent Garden, bills printed on satin lay in their box. The royal pair took them for silk pocket-handkerchiefs, provided for them as a delicate sort of attention, and they put them to present use accordingly.

private table; there were none left on the shelves of that immense publishing house. We doubt not that the book will be received with interest in England, where the grand and somewhat austere figure of the aged Queen of the French so long survived, amidst the respect of all men.

Her birth carries us back to far-away days. She was born at Naples in 1782, her mother being daughter to Maria Theresa, and sister to Marie Antoinette; Queen Caroline is not pleasantly renowned in England, having been mixed up with Nelson in certain regrettable episodes of his great career. Upon these M. Trognon touches with a fearless pen. He shares Louis Philippe's opinion of his mother-inThere are many persons living, who are law, and does not hesitate to say so. For not in the sere or yellow leaf, who remem- the rest, he does justice to certain good ber that the Princess Charlotte of Wales, and even great qualities. She was a good heir to the throne of England, had her wife to a weak husband, and a devoted first wedded home with her husband, mother to a numerous offspring; she had Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, in plenty of ability and, it may be presumed, Oxford Street. The bridegroom, previous a general desire to do her duty as queen. to the marriage, had lived in humble lodg- But she hated the French Revolution, ings over the shop of a London oilman. which had tortured and then murdered But Oxford Street, for a royal young pair, her sister, and she was unscrupulous and standing, as we may say, within the very despotic in her opposition, plotting and shadow of the throne, does seem a queer ordering with a desperation which brought place wherein to build a new marriage- her schemes to naught. She had Napoleon bower. The house, it must be said, was on one side of her, and the cool, determined (and is) at the extreme south-west corner diplomatists of England on the other. of Oxford Street, from which it stands Her career ended in her being ignominiback. Camelford House, as it was called, ously dismissed from Sicily by order of has now an entrance from Park Lane to the English Ambassador; and she went take it out of the vulgar dominion; but to end her days with her nephew at Vienna. the old entrance from Oxford Street is

still seen in the walled-up structure where

Vie de Marie Amélie, Reine des Francais. Par

once stood the gates, exactly opposite M. Auguste Trognon. Paris. Michel Levy Frères.

Not long before her death she wrote to her daughter the Duchess of Geuoa that her life was over. "I am no longer an object of interest to any save a few old women who never stir from home, but who yet do come out to look at the last surviving child of the great Maria Theresa."

for forty years. Whenever in her private diaries the wife mentions the husband, it is always with a touch of profound and even ceremonions allegiance. She calls him "the best of husbands," and on the occasion of his eldest son's death, "that venerable and unfortunate father."

She held unswervingly to him under But whatever her political sins, she public circumstances which cannot but have brought up her children carefully, and the been painful and disagreeable to her, a most Princess Amélia was a well taught, orderly, Catholic Bourbon. She had great affection quiet little girl. The King her father for Charles X.; she dearly loved her first spoilt her whenever he could get a chance. cousin, the Duchesse d'Angoulême; but Nearly eighty years after, the aged Queen the Citizen King was her lord and her used to talk, at Twickenham, of being king, and to him she sacrificed all her relataken in her father's hunting parties near tions with them, not so far as we are alCaserta, and of the delight they gave her. lowed to know, ever looking back, except Her youth knew one great pleasure; a on the occasion of the Duchesse d'Anlong visit paid to Vienna in 1800. Of the goulême's death in 1851, when she seems ten children of the great Empress only to have felt acutely that her place was not two survived; Queen Caroline and the by her dying cousin's bed-side. Archduchess Elizabeth, abbess of Inn- We will honestly state the principal imsprück; but the Emperor Leopold had left pression made upon us by this memoir, for eight sons, and two of these were married the life of the parents could not but powto the Princess Amélia's own sisters. erfully influence the sons, and those sons are Eight nice handsome young cousins, one prominent amidst the powers and chances of whom had a romantic habit of wander- of the future of Europe. It seems to us ing beneath her windows, were enough to that Louis Philippe to a certain extent make the time pass pleasantly to the best misunderstood the principles of the Revobehaved young princess. It was the Arch-lutionary party, and that his short reign, duke Antoine who showed so marked a with its disastrous ending, proved his mispreference; but he was destined for the take. In this life of his devoted wife we Church, and the youthful courtship came see him from the first an object of into nothing. One cannot help thinking stinctive suspicion to the elder Bourbons: that this peculiarly tranquil and conscientious nature would have been happier wedded to an Austrian Archduke than to the uneasy fate of the Duke of Orleans.

and this suspicion he did not exactly deserve, for he was unquestionably a good man in the common sense of the word, and we, for one, do not believe he plotted against his cousins. But when after 1815, he returned to France and settled at the Palais Royal, he allowed himself to be in some sort the centre of the opposition, and the impression rests on our minds, though

Yet her marriage to the latter was purely one of choice. When first they met, the Royal family of Naples was living in a sort of provincial exile at Palermo, Naples being in the hands of Bonaparte; while the Duke of Orleans was only a we are unable to cite texts to support it, cousin, regarded with peculiar disfavour, at the equally exiled Court of France. The Princess was twenty-seven, the Duke ten or twelve years older, and they seem to have been quite determined to marry each other very soon after their acquaintance began. It was not quite easy; for the Duke was in bad odour for liberalism, and certain authorities of the Neapolitan Court tried to turn the scales against him. But the Princess declared she would enter a convent if the marriage were forbidden, and on the 25th of November, 1809, she became the wife of Louis Philippe. The student of human nature may well wonder what quality in the Duke's nature won for him an affection which was in its way romantic, and never seems to have flagged

that he did not bear himself towards the authorities at the Tuileries in such a manner as to induce them to listen to him. The fifteen years of the Restoration were all-important years for France. Men of the most brilliant ability were coming into notice both in the political and the religous and literary spheres. It was then that Thiers and Guizot, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Dupanloup, and Montalembert were all young, they, and many another such as they, whom France can show no more. We believe that a great and healthy activity then reigned in the country, and that the antagonism of the two parties might have been reduced to strong constitutional opposition: It is true that the second of the two legitimate Kings was a

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