Percy Fitzgerald

THE so-called “Queen Anne style” has within the past few years displayed itself in every shape of extravagance, running riot, as it were, in fantastic freaks of brick. Entirely new quarters, as in the regions close to Sloane Street, have sprung up, entirely covered with these singular edifices. They seem to be dark, uncomfortable tenements, with peaks and gables of the most elaborate kind, and are certain to require constant repairs.

Considering that England has been the country of bricks, it is astonishing that so little is known of the principles of brick-building, which the modern development seems to defy. In foreign countries nothing can be more satisfactory than the treatment of this material, always used in a way that will best set it off. The effect of brick is produced by the display of broad surface, and by the exhibition of masses of brick, as in towers. Being of one geometrical size and pattern bricks have little cohesion; whereas stones, of irregular sizes and patterns, can be blended into masses difficult to separate or dissolve. All these florid gables are certain to disintegrate; and, further, owing to the system of laying bricks in masses of mortar, the process of disintegration is made more certain. The lumps of mortar soon dry up and powder away, and the bricks do little more than rest upon one another. Bricks or tiles are very friable and brittle, and any bold cutting or carving, though it may look stout and effective at first, will certainly decay and drop off in fragments, owing to the lodgment of wet in the cracks, etc. Any one that studies the old brickwork will discover that the mouldings, pilasters, etc., are of the most delicate character and in low relief, so as to attract rain or decaying dirt as little as possible.

The rather piquant Hans Place used to be one of the most retired and picturesque inclosures in London. In shape it is an octagon, the houses thin, narrow, and compact, well suited to the person known to auctioneers as “the bachelor of position,” or the old maid of snug resources. The little “Square,” with its low railing, ancient trees and flowers, had a monastic air. The place was completely shut out and shut in also. At this moment it is being regularly and gradually rebuilt, and the uniform narrowness of the space filled by each house gives opportunity for a Bruges-like picturesqueness of design and variety. Rents have gone up amazingly, as the houses have gone up; and the “bachelors of position” have given place to families of a more opulent class. A very striking entrance to the little square has been made from Lennox Gardens, between two stately mansions with towers which correspond in design. In a few years the whole will have been reconstructed, and for variety of pattern and contrast there will be few things more effective in London.

The use of terra-cotta has certainly been carried to an excess. It is now used as a building material, like stone or brick, instead of as mere “dressing” or ornament. Owing to its warping in the “baking” the jointing is bad and irregular, and cracks speedily show themselves. Even the decorative portions, garlands, boys, etc., seem never in the airy spirit of the material, and are too elaborate and “undercut.” Some years ago there was a fashion of profusely carving the brick, in situ, in rich and florid relief, for which the material is too frail and perishable.

It is pleasant, however, to find that a “brick style” is now being gradually evolved, much more suitably adapted to the material and its purposes. In the long terraces now rising on the numerous ruthless clearances are to be seen specimens treated after genuine delicate principles, that is, masses of surface, with bold, simple, and light projections, instead of the toy, or cardboard, surfaces hitherto in fashion. This new evolution is probably not intentional, and has worked itself out on fixed principles.

Indeed, a diligent pilgrim through London will discover many modern, pleasing houses of brick and terra-cotta, which, if somewhat bizarre, have striking merit of design. A remarkable group of this kind of edifice will be found at Courtfield Gardens, near Earl’s Court. These mansions are of original and even fantastic design, being built of a yellow terra-cotta, and running wild in richness of decoration and general treatment. The porches, doorways, windows are all irregular: the work is costly and beautiful; even the steps in front are inlaid with marbles and mosaics. The visitor is taken by surprise. It is pleasant to find that the beautiful type of Bruges houses, models of endurance and grace, has been “discovered” by our architects. So simple and yet so varied is this pattern that a large volume has been published, depicting all the most notable examples.

Charles Lamb complained of the gradual destruction of the antique fountains that were being abolished in his time; and in our day the lover of old London picturesqueness has to bewail the steady and certain destruction that is going on around him year by year. Old gateways, old churches, old houses, with, of course, their old doorways, are fast disappearing. The old doorways, of which there are very many in London, with their attendant lamps and railings, would not have held their place so long but for their fine, solid workmanship needing no repair. They add distinction and perhaps additional money value to the houses themselves.

In Grosvenor Street, where there are many fine old mansions, there are some effective doorways which exhibit the depths, lights and shadows, and the effective air of having a door’s duty to do; while the richness of the carving in the two little “girders” that support the mouldings are wonderfully pleasing. Here we find an unpretending but most effective doorway, at No. 50, quiet and pleasing, with a fanciful carving of a Lion’s head; No. 48 is also worthy of notice.

DOORWAY, 70, GROSVENOR STREET.

In the same street there is one charming house, No. 70, of rich, warm, tinted brick; and, though grimed enough, yet still with a dignity of its own. It boasts a graceful doorway, though it suffers from the window next to it being turned into a second door. Another porch in the same street, and worthy of a glance, from its unpretending yet effective grace, is that of No. 73, which is compact, small, yet deep, with a little carving, which is sufficient; even the lamps lend effect. In Old Burlington Street, at No. 30, is to be found a plain and simple doorway, very singularly effective and well proportioned. The great noblemen’s mansions in Grosvenor Square have all received ponderous portico decorations; but the little doors they shelter betray the original form of entrance. One of the most odious, and at the same time favourite, of these shapes is the conversion of the whole portico into a chamber or box, by which shift a sort of mean hall is gained, but there is no shelter.

In Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square, are to be found some doorways of distinct patterns, examples, also, of architectural merit. They are of stone, and treated as stone should be, with boldness and simplicity. There is a grace in the device—two sprays crossed, a bold head, the arrangement of the lines being in the Renaissance fashion. These meritorious bits of art are Nos. 11 and 12, the latter disfigured by being painted raspberry colour.

Crossing now the line which separates trade from fashion, viz., Oxford Circus, we shall see what doorways are to be found in a promenade Citywards. Off Portland Street, in little-known Mortimer Street, are two notable houses, Nos. 70 and 72. These are treated from top to bottom in a rich style of “embroidery” that recalls some old Bruges house. Sir Paul Pindar’s House is justly admired: but these have almost an equal claim to admiration. There are borders, and “devices,” and ’scutcheons, and a general air of grace and elegance. Like all such tasteful structures, they appear to be in sound condition. What is the history of these two houses? We search in vain the folios of the untiring Smith and his fellows. The doorway of one has a richly-carved, semi-circular border runner, but broken and raised over the centre to admit of a panel decorated with sprays. These attract little attention, and will probably be soon swept away, but they are certainly remarkable enough. Passing into Holborn, and halting not far from the well-known restaurant of that name, we find a curiously retired little street, almost a cul de sac, and known as Featherstone Buildings. Here will be seen no less than seventeen richly-carved doorways, each with its canopy and pilasters and deeply-embayed mouldings and recesses, all, too, in excellent preservation. A curious contrast this to the homely character of the owners or lodgers. Next we pass to a better-known street, Great Ormond Street, which had almost a sort of reputation for its ornaments; but, unhappily, the demolisher has been at work of late, and but little is left. There is one elaborate doorway of an imposing sort, that of the office of the Royal Standard Benefit Society, lofty, arched, and supported on columns, a very elaborate and handsome piece of work. Opposite these is one really graceful and beautiful, No. 17, all embroidered, with a sort of lace-work carving down, and well-wrought “ears” supporting the canopy. No. 8 is also worth attention. Only a few years ago there were several remarkable houses here, notable for their railings, lamps, etc., but they have been levelled.

Passing down to the rear of the new Law Courts, to Carey Street, there was standing a few years ago a very remarkable house that might have been transported from Normandy. There was, indeed, nothing resembling it in London. It was a corner one, with a high wavy roof, bold massive eaves and gables, its upper storey hanging over the street and supported on a pillar. Its doorway was surprisingly elegant, and nothing could exceed the grace and freedom of the carving of the two boys who supported it. But it was carted away, no doubt disposed of as a work of art, and the house was soon after levelled.

Pursuing our rambles as far as Cannon Street, we turn into Laurence Pountney Hill, and there are surprised at the sight of an imposing coupled doorway, treated in a masterly style; the date, 1703, showing us that this style of work was in vogue at the beginning of last century. It will be noted in favour of this sort of work, what a rich variety of treatment has been offered the specimens we have been considering.

Passing yet lower down into Queen Victoria Street, we find among a number of levelled houses that old building known as the Painter Stainers’ Hall, with a pleasing and effective doorway, set off by carving of garlands and flowers, with the shield and arms of the company in the centre. Finally, making our way to College Hill, we find ourselves in front of what is called “Whittington’s House,” which is remarkable for its arched doorway, treated in a florid and original fashion. The circular window over it adds a point and character to the design.

In Hatton Garden there are many doorways of different types. Grecian triangular pediments supported on bold Ionic columns, and forming bold porches. The rusticated style, too, is found here in abundance. Nos. 81 and 102 are worth looking at.

Wandering down the wharves at Lambeth, and hard by the hideous iron bridge, where we expect to find marble yards and trusses of hay and mounds of coal, we come on a magnificent doorway, richly carved and of the shell pattern; carved, also, are its pilasters. This work seems as sound as it was on the day it was set up. In Essex Street, Strand, on the right hand as we go down, we shall find some half a dozen doorways of merit, each of a different pattern and offering curious variety of treatment. In the City, close to Tower Hill, and in Seething Lane, and in quiet St. Catherine’s Court, we shall find some really imposing doorways, some grouped and thus made more effective. So also in Broad Street, off New Oxford Street. In Soho, once a fashionable quarter, in Gerrard Street and in Dean Street, there are some fine examples. There are some hundreds, in short, to be discovered in London; and they are well worth searching for.

At No. 8, Grosvenor Square, will be noted some airy and elegant treatment of old-fashioned iron railings, and which have been but little restored. It is not, moreover, limited to the doorway, but extends along the area. There are many doorways in London where a bit of “flourish” connects the brick wall next the door with the iron railing of the area with not unpleasing effect. In Greek Street, Soho, there are many of a solid kind, and we have mentioned how rich the adjoining Dean Street is in such entrances. These all speak of stately mansions to correspond, fine stairs, and spacious halls.[27]