Palaces of Power E-Book

Stephen Hoare

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 393

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

'A tour of gentleman's clubs from their rowdy beginnings to their stately present' - The Times 'This book vividly captures clubland's brief history in all its transient (and occasionally squalid) glory' - Daily Mail 'Stephen Hoare's genial history of this Clubland-at-home is a fascinating story told with wit and verve' - Professor Jerry White, Birbeck University of London The core of what we call St James's dates from the late seventeenth century, when large estates were leased by the Crown to the landed gentry after the Restoration in 1660. St James's clubs, coffee houses and institutions have been shaped by enterprise, political conflict and Britain's emerging role as an Imperial power. This is the historic heart of London's Clubland. Over 300 years, Clubland has extended its reach to encompass Piccadilly, Mayfair, Bond Street, Covent Garden and Westminster. Ever discreet, the clubs do not draw attention to themselves, though their members are often highly influential individuals who are leaders in politics, the law, the media and much more. Palaces of Power charts the evolution of London's Clubland, St James's, exploring the social and cultural history of the city's most prestigious district, and studying the tensions between the world of privilege and an emerging public realm over the last three centuries.

Leseprobe

To Pauline,with love

First published 2019

The History Press

97 St George’s Place, Cheltenham,

Gloucestershire, GL50 3QB

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© Stephen Hoare, 2019

The right of Stephen Hoare to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978-0-7509-9284-8

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

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CONTENTS

Foreword

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1: A Royal Village

Early Days

A Royal Palace Takes Shape

A Noble Development

The Parish

A Bustling Hub

Royal St James’s

St James’s Park

Chapter 2: Coffee-house Sociability

A Public Realm

Secret Societies

Learned Societies

Private Spaces

The Craze for Clubs

The Dilettanti

The Thatched House

Coffee-Women

The Birth of Journalism

Revolt of the Coffee-Men

Coffee-House Politicians

White’s: From Coffee-House to Club

Chapter 3: The Rise of the Dandy

Idle Pleasures

The Original Clubman

Brooks’s: The Story of a Whig Club

The Dandies’ Club

Beau Brummel

Defining the Dandy

Wellington’s War Heroes

Hero and Practical Joker

Dressing the Male Peacock

Last Throw of the Dice

End of an Era

Chapter 4: The Beau Monde

The London Season

Debutantes

Marriage à la Mode

Almack’s

The ‘Lady Patronesses’

Sarah, Lady Jersey

By Royal Command - Opera at the Haymarket

Pleasure Gardens

The Temple of Hymen

Chapter 5: A Looking Glass World

Gambling Hells

Hellgate

A Harlot’s Progress

The Demi-Monde

Masquerade

The Cyprian’s Ball

Gender Identity

Arrested for Debt

Tom and Jerry

The Four Horse Club, the Daffy Club, and the Pugilistic Club

Chapter 6: Palaces of Power

Athens Re-Imagined

Model Institutions

A Grand Vision

High Ideals

Wellington’s Clubland

St James’s and the Military

Military Clubs

Political Powerhouses

Clubland’s Masterchef

Below Stairs

Clubmen

Influential Women

Chapter 7: A Window on the World

A Diplomatic Mission

Hub of Empire

Politics and International Affairs

Diplomacy

Political Division

Fred Burnaby: Heroic Adventurer

Lizzie Le Blond: Alpine Pioneer

Pushing Boundaries

The American Multi-Millionaire

Clubland Around the World

A Transport Hub

Theatreland

Tea at the Ritz

The Duchess of Jermyn Street

Votes for Women

Britain at War

Chapter 8: The Jazz Age: St James’s in the 1920s and ’30s

Post-War Recovery

The ‘Bright Young Things’

A Cultural Melting Pot

London Lets its Hair Down

C.B. Cochran

Catering for the Masses

Sweetheart

High Society

Relaxed Morals

Queen of Clubs

The ‘Playboy Prince’

Dressed to Impress

Redevelopment

Chapter 9: Clubland at War

Impressions of War

Preparations for War

Governments in Exile

Blitzkrieg

Christmas 1940

Club Hospitality

Party Like There’s No Tomorrow

Business as Usual

Allied Nerve-Centre

The Guards’ Chapel

Chapter 10: Clubland Reborn

Post-War Revival

A Family Tradition

Keeping Faith with the Past

Mohammed Anzaoui

Pressure for Change

Krishan Chudasama, the Oriental Club

Palaces of Power

Luxury Brands

Clubland Revived

List of Clubs

List of Sources

FOREWORD

The London members’ club is an extraordinary success story. It is a product of the very beginnings of modern London in the eighteenth century. It transformed itself, both in numbers and in the luxuriousness of its clubhouses, in the nineteenth century – for many, the club’s golden age. In the twentieth century it is possible to discern signs of decline and decay, especially in the club’s historic centre in the aristocratic parish of St James’s, Westminster. Even then, though, the idea of the club never lost its attractiveness. And now, in the last twenty or thirty years in particular, the club has burst far beyond its historic confines in one or two central London parishes and found a new lease of life in districts that once had lurid reputations for vice and crime but have now been resurrected as ultra-smart. Rather than being rendered irrelevant to the modern age, the club has readily accommodated London’s restless desire for all things new; rather than discarded as unfashionable, the London club has recovered its reputation as a symbol of good taste. Why is this?

One reason, it seems to me, lies in the very nature of London. Even in the eighteenth century, London was an urban wonder. The largest city in Europe, it dwarfed the towns and cities of Britain. So, in many ways, it still does. After a period of decay for thirty years or so following the Second World War, when London lost over 2 million people and scores of thousands of jobs, it has recovered to reach and even surpass its previous high-point of some 8¾ million people; the next largest city (Birmingham) is just about one-eighth of its size.

In all this time, London’s growth has depended on immigration. Even in the eighteenth century only a minority of Londoners were London-born. In the nineteenth century, ten decades of astonishing growth when the metropolis multiplied its population six-fold, immigration was so much the life-blood of the city that observers worried that the pure-bred cockney was a mere specimen of physical and mental degradation. Even in the years of London’s decline in the second half of the twentieth century, largescale immigration from home and abroad fuelled those positive signs of energy and rebirth that coalesced in ‘Swinging London’. In the twenty-first century, when the British-born population now makes up just 62 per cent and when more than a third of Londoners are born abroad, the economic driving-force of immigration is plain for all to see. London, then, is a city of strangers. And so it has been for the past 300 years.

It is in this migrant-fuelled growth of London 300 years ago that we find the birth of the club as an idea and when we see that idea taking root in metropolitan soil. It should come as no surprise that freemasonry assumed its modern world-wide form in London in 1717, for it was in this city of strangers that men – and it was men at that time – had to create their own connections, make their own ‘friends’ on whom they could rely in frequent times of trouble. The lodge and the club formed part of this solution to a pressing need for those newly arrived in London: the need for an identity in a whirling city where perhaps you might know just one or two people, sometimes none at all; the need for neighbourliness in a city notorious for a shifting preoccupied population that never seemed to root itself in one place; and for visibility in a place where swarming crowds rendered every individual invisible.

The club survived and, indeed, now flourishes because it continues to fulfil these needs. All this is not to deny the club’s ups and downs in its 300-year history. It has not had an easy ride. Just as London has suffered its own blows of outrageous fortune, the club has had to adapt to changing circumstances, uncomfortable and incomplete though that adaptation has sometimes proved – the antediluvian reluctance of a few clubs to admit women members is a case in point. If the London club has shown an indestructible longevity then in the process it has become a great deal altered. Not the least of these changes has been that move away from its historic centre. As London has grown on the ground, so has its ‘Clubland’ become far-flung and dispersed. And yet the historic connection with clubs and St James’s is still so strong that when people speak of London’s Clubland, as they still do, it is the streets between and around Piccadilly and Pall Mall that they have in mind.

Stephen Hoare’s genial history of this Clubland-at-home reveals to us just how that connection between the club and St James’s arose and how it changed over time. It is a fascinating story and it is told with wit and verve. Those of us who think we know our London history tolerably well will find much that is new here. And Hoare convinces us that the London club, and its connection with London’s most exclusive parish, is a story that goes to the heart of just what London has meant to its people over the past 300 years.

Jerry WhiteReform ClubJune 2019

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book grew out of my MA dissertation at Birkbeck, University of London, the title of which was A comparison of the coffee-houses of St James’s and Cornhill in the long eighteenth century. For this I would like to thank my supervisor Professor Jerry White for the advice he gave when I decided to extend the scope of my studies to focus on members’ clubs. Also, to Professor Penelope Corfield of Royal Holloway College University of London, Dr Gillian Williamson and members of the Long Eighteenth Century Seminar Group at the Institute for Historical Research, Senate House for their support and encouragement. Thanks also to my fellow journalist and historian Peter Guy Brown for his constructive comments on my draft and especially to Michael Jeremy Hodges of Brooks’s for his forensic eye for detail when reading the final manuscript.

I am indebted to the many London clubs whose response to my inquiries has given my book depth and focus. I offer especial thanks to Charles Sebag-Montefiore, secretary of the Society of Dilettanti, Mark Rivett, secretary of the Oriental Club, Julie Owens of the ‘In and Out’ Naval and Military Club, Sheila Markham, librarian of the Travellers Club and Brooks’s, Simon Blundell, librarian of the Reform Club, Mohammed Anzouai, Chief Steward at the Reform Club, Sheron Easter, membership secretary of the Reform Club, Dr Peter Urbach, archivist at the Reform Club, Jennie de Protani of the Athenaeum, Seth Alexander Thevoz, librarian of the National Liberal Club, and, not least, to Helen O’Neill and Yvette Dickerson of the London Library, St James’s Square, and Lizzie Morcom of Senate House Library.

For the chapter on the jazz age I am grateful to the highly knowledgeable Ray Pallett. Ray’s website Memory Lane www.memorylane.org.uk should be essential reading to anyone interested in the big bands of the 1930s.

Essential in giving this book the authentic flavour of Clubland were the members who generously entertained me at their clubs. Thank you one and all for the gin and tonics, whisky and sodas, and for a memorable lunch at White’s. Your anecdotes were invaluable. In particular, I would like to thank Michael Jeremy Hodges of Brooks’s, John Martin Robinson of the Travellers Club, Pratt’s and the Beefsteak, Krishan Chudasama of the Oriental Club, and Robbie Lyle of White’s for their hospitality and for sharing their knowledge of their clubs.

Finally, I thank my wife and co-conspirator Pauline for her dedicated support over the years this project took shape. I value her patience, encouragement, and encyclopaedic knowledge of the novels of Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer and of course our shared enthusiasm for that supreme chronicler of Victorian Clubland, Anthony Trollope.

The owners of copyright material have been contacted and have given permission, for which the author expresses his gratitude. While every effort has been made to trace secondary sources, some have proved hard to trace and for this the author offers his sincere apologies.

INTRODUCTION

Take a stroll from Trafalgar Square along Cockspur Street and Pall Mall and then turn sharp right at St James’s Palace into St James’s Street. You will pass a series of grand buildings flanked by cast-iron gas lamps, with stone steps and porters guarding the doors. On your left is the Institute of Directors, formerly the United Service Club, while directly opposite fronting onto Waterloo Place there is the Athenaeum with its classical Greek frieze and statue of Pallas Athene. Moving onwards, along Pall Mall, are the Travellers Club, the Reform Club, the Royal Automobile Club and the Oxford and Cambridge Club. On the west side of St James’s Street is the Carlton Club, while further up is Brooks’s and the former Crockford’s clubhouse, while on the opposite side are Boodle’s and White’s. And if you should take a detour to St James’s Square you will see the ‘In and Out’ Naval and Military Club, and the East India Club. This is the historic heart of London’s Clubland.

Clubland is, of course, much bigger, and is constantly evolving, but it is a world normally hidden from public view. Over 300 years, Clubland has extended its reach to encompass Piccadilly, Mayfair, Bond Street, Covent Garden and Westminster. The clubs are a valuable part of London’s built environment with most historic clubhouses listed grade one architecturally. Despite being highly visible, Londoners take these classical clubhouses for granted as part of the streetscape. Ever discreet, the clubs do not draw attention to themselves. Nevertheless, their members are often highly influential individuals who are leaders in politics, finance, business, the law, the established church, the arts and the media and much more.

In telling the story of Clubland I have presented a slice of political and social history. It cannot be told through events alone – although many clubs were established at times of great political upheaval and national crisis. Events like the Napoleonic wars and the Great Reform Act were a catalyst to club formation.

In the end, this book is a biography of Clubland. Focused on St James’s and Piccadilly, the clubs have spawned a colourful cast of characters and the story of St James’s features – among others – lords and ladies, bawds and madams, dandies, speculators, generals, prime ministers, shopkeepers, suffragettes, nightclub owners, boxers, gamblers and jazz singers. You will meet such characters as Beau Brummel, society hostess Sarah, Lady Jersey, the Prince Regent, the Duke of Wellington and the courtesan Harriette Wilson, the alpine pioneer Lizzie Le Blond, the jazz singer ‘Hutch’, and former Prime Minister Harold Macmillan.

Clubland has been shaped by its close connection to the sources of power, royalty, the aristocracy, the army, Parliament, the diplomatic and civil service and the law. Unsurprisingly, clubs reflect traditions built over centuries. Highly individualistic, and yet able to adapt to changing times, the members’ club has been a model that has been exported across the world. Global centres of power, influence and resources like London, Tokyo, New York, Paris and Berlin have a common thread of attracting and building enclaves of luxury and fashion.

For over 300 years, St James’s, Piccadilly and the West End has remained the location for London’s most exclusive clubs. Throughout economic depression, and even war, there has always been – and always will be – a demand for the personalised services only a club can provide.

CHAPTER 1

A ROYAL VILLAGE

The Pail Mail, a fine long Street, which from the Hay Market runs in a streight Line Westwards into St. James’s-street. The Houses on the South Side have a pleasant Prospect into the King's Garden; and besides, they have small Gardens behind them, which reach to the Wall, and to many of them there are raised Mounts, which give them the Prospect of the said Garden, and of the Park.

From John Strype, A Survey of the Cities of Londonand Westminster 1720

It all began at the Palace. The focal point of St James’s has been for many hundreds of years St James’s Palace. Established early in the twelfth century as a hospital run by Augustinians for ‘fourteen leprous women’, St James’s Palace was originally situated in the middle of open countryside known as St James’s Fields. There was a spring close by, capped by a brick conduit which provided fresh drinking water for the hospital dedicated to St James the Less. The building was acquired along with 185 acres of surrounding land by Henry VIII in 1528 from the Provost of Eton College. Following a complete refurbishment, the hospital’s monastic halls and corridors took on a new life as a royal residence. The red-brick gate tower at the bottom of St James’s Street proclaims the palace’s Tudor origins. It is ironic that what began life as a charitable institution was later to become synonymous with the power, wealth and decadence of Restoration London. By 1698 and the Palace being occupied by William and Mary, St James’s was about to enter a new chapter of what had been a chequered history.

Early Days

John Strype’s Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster was published in 1720. Quoted above, it provides the most comprehensive picture of London as it looked following the rebuilding that took place after the Great Fire of 1666. By the time Strype described St James’s and Westminster, the sprawling Palace of Whitehall had been severely damaged by fire on 4 January 1698. Only Inigo Jones’s Banqueting Hall, the Great Hall at Westminster and the Jewel Tower survived the conflagration. An open space near St James’s Palace was the site of St James’s Fair, a riotous annual celebration ‘held on St James’s Day near his Majesty’s house at St James’s’.1 St James’s Day was 25 July. The fair continued until 1698 when William and Mary adopted St James’s Palace as their royal residence. The fair subsequently moved to Mayfair.

John Strype’s St James’s was an urban village lying to the north of what had been a walled royal deer park. The ‘raised Mounts’ in the back gardens of the houses on the south side of Pall Mall were populated with summer houses and gazebos. The ‘Pail Mail’ mentioned in the Survey had in the first half of the seventeenth century been a long straight pitch for the eponymous game of bowls enjoyed by royalty and aristocracy up to the mid-seventeenth century.

But St James’s Palace was no quiet backwater. Pall Mall, the wide thoroughfare leading up to it, was populated with taverns and four-and five-storey mansions of the rich including the magnificent Schomberg House, built on the south side of Pall Mall in 1698 for the Duke of Schomberg. The first duke was part of a family of French generals and was born in the Palatinate. He was second in command to William of Orange on his 1688 expedition to England. Part of his house still stands next door to the Oxford and Cambridge Club. A short way to the north of Pall Mall, one of London’s vital mail coach routes, the road to Reading, Bath and Bristol terminated at the coaching inns of Piccadilly. This major highway known as Piccadilly was linked to St James’s Palace by St James’s Street, a short avenue of substantial brick-built homes occupied mainly by aristocratic courtiers and wealthy merchants.

A Royal Palace Takes Shape

After fire had rendered the Palace of Whitehall uninhabitable, the reigning monarchs William and Mary established their London court here in 1698. St James’s was all set for its next phase as a principal royal residence. Their successor, Queen Anne, ordered an extensive building programme to be carried out with a new suite of royal apartments designed by Sir Christopher Wren. The reign of Queen Anne (1702–1714) was the catalyst for St James’s rapid development, as nobility, courtiers, ambassadors to the Court of St James, soldiers, tradesmen and servants gravitated to the new dwellings and lodgings that were springing up around the royal palace.

Development was well under way long before the royal court took up residence in St James’s Palace. John Strype describes St James’s Street as a ‘spacious street well inhabited by Gentry’. Around fifteen substantial brick-built houses fronted onto the rough, un-metalled street which ran from the palace gates to the ‘important way to Readinge’, as Strype refers to Piccadilly. St James’s was a safe haven from the Great Plague of 1664 which had spread like wildfire in the City of London’s densely packed tenements. The fresh drinking water provided by the nearby well would have been a valuable asset for the street’s early inhabitants.

The rate books prove conclusively not only the growing popularity of St James’s Street but also the fashionable character it was assuming. ‘Sir Ralph Clare, in 1635, is joined in the following year by Sir John Bingley … In 1641 we find besides Lord Berkshire, (Sir William) Pulteney and (Sir Henry) Henn, Sir David Cunningham, the Earl of Danby and Lord Gorringe.’2

Prior to the accession of Charles II, St James’s Palace played a minor role as annexe to the main seat of power at Whitehall Palace. The history of Clubland has its roots in 1660 with the Restoration of the monarchy following the Commonwealth of Oliver Cromwell that had been established after a bloody civil war and the execution of Charles I. The power vacuum following the death of Cromwell led to a re-invigorated, re-invented monarchy which needed to establish a new order based on aristocratic patronage. King Charles II set about enlarging and refurbishing St James’s Palace to create a royal residence for his brother the Duke of York, later James II.

The first official mention of St James’s Street dates from 1659 in the final year of Oliver Cromwell’s short-lived Commonwealth. The Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660 saw King Charles II reward his loyal followers with large parcels of Crown land on generous leases. As the Court orbited around St James’s Place, the development of the urban village known as St James’s began.

The newly ennobled supporters of King Charles II were granted long leases to build stately mansions for themselves and invest in high status speculative developments such as St James’s Square. Charles also gifted a splendid house on Pall Mall close by the royal palace to his mistress Nell Gwynn. The gift, more generous than to any of his other numerous lovers, was made doubly so when Miss Gwynn demanded and was given the freehold of the property. Her former house is still the only one in Pall Mall to be freehold.

Another recipient of royal largesse was not quite so lucky. Queen Anne granted her one-time favourite and confidante Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough, £44,000 and a leasehold to build a grand mansion next to St James’s Park in recognition of her husband’s successful campaigns in the War of Spanish Succession. Designed by Sir Christopher Wren and completed in 1711, Marlborough House was the duke and duchess’s London home. With the house came the right to drive a carriage on the Mall in St James’s Park, a privilege reserved for the king and his closest friends. With the accession of King George I, the Marlboroughs’ prodigious spending came under public scrutiny. Scandalous reports reached the government that Sir John Vanbrugh the architect of Blenheim Palace was owed a vast sum by the duchess for building work carried out but deliberately withheld.

Vanbrugh was ruined and the Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole, was determined to exact revenge. He removed the duchess’s privilege of driving in St James’s Park and closed off the principal carriageway into her house. The duchess then petitioned the king for permission to buy and demolish two neighbouring houses to create a grand carriage entrance onto Pall Mall. Walpole nipped this scheme in the bud by extending the Crown leases on the houses by thirty years, thus preventing their sale and demolition. Piqued, the duchess had no choice but to abandon her grand plans. After the end of Walpole’s long reign as prime minister, the duchess was finally able to buy and demolish a small house to the west next door to the German Chapel to the side of St James’s Palace to create a modest carriageway to her house. The narrow entrance created a dog-leg which proved an obstacle for carriages. To cap it all, Walpole, when in power, had bought one of the houses overlooking Marlborough House that had escaped demolition for his son, Edward. When the lease on Marlborough House expired in 1828, it was brought back into government ownership.

A Noble Development

As St James’s became fashionable, the nobility built grand mansions along Piccadilly. Lord Arlington, Richard, Earl of Burlington and the Duke of Albemarle developed land that lay to the north of Piccadilly. Burlington’s grand mansion, Burlington House, is now the Royal Academy while Arlington Street takes its name from its aristocratic landlord.

In 1661 the Bailiwick of St James’s was leased by Queen Henrietta Maria’s trustees to the trustees of Henry Jermyn, the Earl of St Albans ‘who over the course of the next eight years granted some twenty leases along the whole of the east side of St James’s Street and also on the west side south of Park Place’.3 The Court of St James’s attracted aristocrats and courtiers, military officers and their wives, many of whom were involved in ceremonial duties at the court. Neighbouring streets including Jermyn Street, Duke Street, Bury Street and King Street attracted not only Stuart courtiers but members of Parliament, scientists and an odd assortment of wealthy individuals. Sir Isaac Newton, the Duke of Marlborough, in the days when he was plain Colonel Churchill, and the apothecary and part-time highwayman William Plunkett lived on Jermyn Street.

In 1662 Jermyn applied to Charles II for a lease of 45 acres upon which to build ‘great and good houses … fit for the dwellings of noblemen and persons of quality’.4 By gifting these leaseholds, a large swathe of St James’s Fields gave way to imposing houses built in what was later called Queen Anne style with projecting eaves and dormer windows. The Jermyn family continued to own the leasehold land until 1740 when it reverted to the Crown as did similar estates.

St James’s Square was built in stages between 1665 and 1720. Built in partnership with the builder Nicholas Barbon, this was London’s first speculative development and a blueprint for the fashionable London squares that were developed over the subsequent centuries. Early residents of St James’s Square included Thomas Thynne, Viscount Weymouth; William Hervey, Earl of Bristol; Edward Howard, Duke of Norfolk; The Duke of Kent; Sir John Heathcote, MP for Bodmin; and Sir Everard Fawkener, Postmaster General. Thynne did not live long to enjoy the fashionable London life. He was assassinated by Colonel Graz and Lieutenant Stern who ambushed his coach in Pall Mall and shot him dead on 12 February 1681. The murderers were hanged but not Count Konigsmark, the man who had ordered the killing in revenge for Thynne’s winning the hand of Lady Ogle to whom he believed himself engaged.

St James’s was slowly but surely adopting something of the reputation of ‘the wild West End’. Alongside the urban village’s grand houses, there grew up a haphazard collection of shops, livery stables, theatres, concert halls and places of entertainment as well as numerous taverns like the Eagle and Child, the Chequer, the Coach and Horses, the Star and Goat, and the Thistle and Crown, all to be found on Pall Mall. The fine houses of St James’s Street soon found themselves jostling cheek by jowl with the encroaching shops and coffee-houses. In the eighteenth century, the nobility began to move out as their former homes changed hands and were bought by up-and-coming tradesmen. Typical of incomers was the local ‘fruit woman’ Betty Neale who ran a fruit and vegetable business from number 62 St James’s Street. Born in St James’s Street in 1730, Neale claimed she had only ever been out of the street on two occasions. In business from around 1750 till her retirement in 1783, Betty’s fruit shop was patronised by men and women of the ton who came to hear the latest gossip about court life or scandalous stories of sexual intrigue. When Horace Walpole and his friends visited Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens in 1750, they invited Betty who ‘accompanied the party with hampers of strawberries and cherries’.5

One family business survives from this era at number 3 St James’s Street. Wine merchant Berry Bros & Rudd started life in 1698 when the Widow Bourne established a grocer’s opposite St James’s Palace. Her daughter Elizabeth married William Pickering and the young couple began supplying the newly fashionable chocolate and coffee-houses with ground coffee beans. The firm grew and took on a partner, John Clarke, whose grandson George Berry took over running the family firm in 1810. Renamed Berry, the grocer’s shop survives intact although by the early nineteenth century, wine had overtaken coffee as the main stock in trade. Visitors to the original Berry Bros shop can still see the massive set of scales used to weigh coffee beans. And when sacks of coffee were no longer weighed, the scales were put to good use weighing gentlemen who wished to check the progress of their diet. Berry Bros still keeps the original ledger on which is recorded the weight of Beau Brummel, the Prince Regent and many others. Berry Bros & Rudd is now a luxury brand.

St James’s Street was an expensive address and households struggled to make ends meet. As a result, many residents of St James’s Street took in lodgers. Paying for board and lodging was a cheap and convenient way of acquiring a fashionable address at a fraction of the cost of buying or renting a property. Some famous people lodged here. Alexander Pope, the historian and MP Edward Gibbon and the essayist Joseph Addison were among the many people of note who rented lodgings on St James’s Street. Close by, Bury Street could be described as the epicentre of eighteenth-century ‘bed-sit land’. Jonathan Swift arrived from Dublin in 1710, describing his situation thus:

I lodge in Berry Street, where I removed a week ago. I have the first floor, a dining room and a bed-chamber at eight shillings a week; playing deep, but I spend nothing for eating, never go to a tavern, and very seldom in a coach; yet, after all, it will be expensive.6

Addison’s friend and literary collaborator Richard Steele and his wife also lodged in Bury Street. The impecunious Steele had a fraught relationship with their landlady, a Mrs Vanderput who had the writer arrested for unpaid rent in November 1708. In a letter, Steele referred to his landlady as ‘that insufferable brute’.

St James’s Street must clearly have attained a degree of notoriety for a pillory was set up in Park Place, St James’s Street in around 1690. Miscreants – more often than not seditious Jacobites – could be forced to stand with their hands locked in the crossbar of the pillory while the public hurled abuse or rotten fruit at them. The pillory was sited near a stand for sedan chairs which stood parked in rows while their chairmen rested while waiting for their next fare. It was a busy public thoroughfare.

Central to the story of Clubland was the burgeoning number of taverns, coffee and chocolate-houses. White’s was established in St James’s Street in 1693 and in Pall Mall, Ozinda’s opened in 1694. In St James’s Street, coffee and chocolate-houses followed in quick succession. The Cocoa Tree opened in 1698, the Star and Garter Tavern in 1700, the Smyrna in 1702, the Thatched House Tavern in 1704, and the St James’s Coffee-House in 1705. Highly fashionable beverages imported from Italy and Portugal revolutionised social habits, segregating men from women and providing a public sphere where politics could be debated and card games played for high stakes. These coffee and chocolate-houses were the unlikely precursors of some of London’s most famous clubs.

By the early eighteenth century, St James’s Street was a prosperous enclave. William Hogarth’s A Rake’s Progress, painted in 1734, depicts a streetscape composed of plain, three-storey, brick-built, flat-fronted Queen Anne houses. There appears to have been a steep gradient at the north end of St James’s Street, and houses there fronted onto a terraced walkway ascended by steps. This arrangement caused a lot of accidents with sedan chairs and people falling down the steps. The result was that in 1765, the Westminster Paving Commissioners carried out works to level the street. But this also led to some strange anomalies. In some houses, cellars were raised above ground level and in others, doorways were sunken. A correspondent for the London Chronicle wrote:

Some gentlemen are forced to dive into their own parlours … some persons, not thinking of the late alterations, attempting to knock at their own door, have frequently tumbled up their new-erected steps, while others, who have been used to ascend to their threshold, have as often, for the same reason, tumbled down.7

Following the invasion of coffee-houses, most of the nobility had moved onwards and upwards to grand houses in St James’s Square and Piccadilly. St James’s Street was the home of successful tradesmen. By the end of the century the tradesmen had moved on and most of their houses had been sold and demolished to make way for the imposing classical buildings and clubhouses we see today.

The Parish

The growing area needed a church and in 1684 Sir Christopher Wren completed St James’s Church, Piccadilly, setting the seal on Henry Jermyn’s success. The parish covered an area bounded by St James’s Palace, Pall Mall, Piccadilly and the Haymarket, and included St James’s Square, Jermyn Street, Pall Mall, Haymarket, and St James’s Street. The parish originally included parts of Mayfair, Soho and extended as far as Coventry Street, leading to Leicester Fields better known today as Leicester Square. In later centuries this small and tightly defined area was to become the nucleus of London’s Clubland.

At the time, the neighbouring parishes were St Margaret’s Westminster, St Anne’s Soho and St Martin-in-the-Fields. St George’s Hanover Square was established in 1724 as the parish church of Mayfair after parish boundaries were redrawn following the New Churches in London and Westminster Act of 1710, which led to the creation of a commission to oversee the building of fifty new churches to serve London’s fast expanding population. St James’s Church, Piccadilly stood on what was then called Portugal Street later renamed Piccadilly, a thoroughfare which took its name from a Pickadill, meaning the outer hem of a skirt or collar. At the time the area could truly be said to represent the outskirts of London, and this is the likely origin.

St James’s included London’s biggest concentration of royal households: St James’s Palace, Cumberland House, York House and Clarence House. The impact of having a royal household on the doorstep led to rapid gentrification.

A Bustling Hub

Passengers and goods for the regular mail coaches departing London-bound for Windsor, Reading, Bath, Bristol and all points west were served by huge coaching inns which stood near the site of the present day Piccadilly Circus. Coaches either started from Piccadilly or were making their first port of call on a journey which had begun in a City coaching inn such as the Bell Savage on Ludgate Hill. The principal coaching inns were the White Bear on the site of what is now the Trocadero, the White Horse located on the south side of Piccadilly facing up Bond Street, both built around 1670–80, and the Three Kings built in 1683. The Gloucester Coffee-House, Piccadilly, was a busy coach terminus serving Windsor, Bath, Bristol, Worcester, Ludlow, and Dover.

The mail coach, with driver and guard, and with luggage and passengers piled up on the roof, as well as four people inside the coach itself, would travel at about 7–8 miles an hour, meaning that a journey might take several days with overnight stops at inns or stages along the route. A system of well-maintained turnpike roads (where a toll was paid) speeded up the mail but even so, a fresh team of horses would be needed every 15 to 20 miles. Turnpikes reduced the time of the journey from London to Bristol from thirty-eight hours to sixteen hours.8

The basic design of the coaching inn can be seen from London’s sole surviving coaching inn, the George on Borough High Street, which was the terminus for the Rochester mail route. It has a large gateway for horse-drawn stagecoaches and a yard where the coaches set down passengers and where the horses could be untethered, fed, watered and rested at stables to the rear. Around all four sides of the inn yard would be a staircase leading to balustraded galleries which provided access to bedrooms for guests needing overnight accommodation and private dining rooms. On the ground floor were the ticket office, goods porters, a mail office and public waiting rooms where passengers would wait for their coach. It was a ceaseless hive of activity. These inns fulfilled exactly the same function as a modern railway terminus.

The proximity of these coaching inns was vital to the economy of St James’s and fed into the area’s growing reputation as a premium shopping district. Wealthy individuals patronising the St James’s shops and warehouses might order goods such as medicines, tea, coffee, haberdashery, fashionable clothes, boots, hats, sporting guns, clocks, and even optical instruments which were then parcelled and dispatched to their country estates by mail coach.

Royal St James’s

As a residence, St James’s Palace was not always a firm favourite with royalty. It was far too public and indeed anyone strolling in St James’s Park would have had a clear view of palace life. George III preferred the seclusion of Windsor Castle and Kew Palace, leaving the Court of St James’s as a place where foreign dignitaries and ambassadors were received. In 1783 George III’s son, the Prince of Wales, was given Carlton House which he expanded and developed as a royal palace. Here, the Prince of Wales attracted a disreputable crowd of courtiers all seeking influence as his father withdrew from public life. Carlton House effectively became a parallel court.

St James’s set the gold standard for London streets, which at the time were overwhelmingly muddy, rutted and hazardous. Duke Street, St James’s was the first thoroughfare in London to have pavements for pedestrians. Pall Mall was the first to be lit by gas. An experimental technology, coal gas was pioneered by a German, Frederick Winsor, who staged a demonstration of his new lighting at his home in 93–94 Pall Mall in 1807. The innovation attracted the attention of the Prince of Wales.

In 1824, the Prince of Wales, now George IV, decided to demolish Carlton House in anticipation of a move to Buckingham House. The large vacant plot created enabled the construction of Waterloo Place and the Duke of York Steps which provided a vista to St James’s Park. Carlton House Terrace was built on the site of what was known as ‘the King’s Garden’, also known as ‘the Wilderness’, situated between the backs of mansions on Pall Mall and St James’s Park. This land had once been owned by the scientist Robert Boyle who was granted it by Queen Anne on a thirty-oneyear lease from 1709. The queen also gave Boyle a noble title, Lord Carlton. Reverting to the Crown estate, Lord Carlton’s garden gave its name to Carlton House and subsequently to the terrace. It is a delightful irony that the Royal Society of which Boyle – Lord Carlton – was a founder member should now be located in Carlton House Terrace.

St James’s Park

King Charles II opened up the previously private royal deer park to create a public pleasure garden in 1660. His first decision was to order the Mall to be re-metalled to provide a suitable surface for carriages and horses. St James’s Park was wooded with rows of trees and occasional clumps. Parallel to the Mall was a long, wide canal originally fed by water from the River Tyburn. To the right of this canal was a shallow, oblong lake, Rosamund’s Pond, located on what is now Birdcage Walk. The land between the Mall and the canal bank was laid out as a series of tree-lined walks. Tame deer roamed the park, and ducks lived in a ‘duck decoy’ constructed to one side of the canal. Then, as now, seventeenth-century children would be taken to ‘feed the ducks’. The park was also home to a small herd of dairy cattle, and milkmaids were on hand to milk the cows and sell this natural drink to the public at a penny a cup. St James’s Park quickly became a place for public promenading where the aristocracy and middle classes could engage in gentle conversation and even mingle with royalty. Officers of the Life Guards were often to be seen off duty but in military uniform.

Baron Bielfeld, a visitor to London, wrote in 1741:

I enter a long and spacious walk they call the Mall. It is now mid-day and I find it thronged with the beau monde of both sexes, who pass hastily along. The ladies here wear a kind of negligee, in which they appear still more charming than in a most laboured dress. Every part of their apparel is extremely neat; instead of a large hoop, they have short petticoats, and their gowns are elegant but not gaudy, they have short cloaks trimmed with lace.9

The old formal park of 1660 was given a total revamp around 1770 as part of works carried out by the landscape architect Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown. George III had purchased Buckingham House for his queen and he wanted to improve the vista. Brown’s garden design scheme envisaged converting the canal and Rosamund’s Pond into a long, narrow lake that widened at the east end to encircle an island covered with trees. Rosamund’s Pond and the canal were drained and filled in, but it was left to the architect John Nash who finally completed the digging of the lake in the 1820s, by which time its water was supplied by the Chelsea Water Works. Some years later, visitors to the park would have encountered its most famous residents, a flock of pelicans, descendants of a pair of which were presented to King Charles II in 1664 by the Russian ambassador. Although these birds are now resident in St James’s Park, they were originally housed at the Tower of London menagerie where all exotic animals presented to the monarch were kept. When the menageries closed in 1835, the pelicans were re-homed in St James’s Park.

The Court of St James’s attracted the aristocracy and the beau monde to this urban village. The social divide between the upper classes and people of the ‘middling sort’ created a fertile ground for the development of a ‘public realm’ where gentlemen and ladies could mix freely with people of their own rank and status in the area’s many coffee-houses, inns and taverns. This burgeoning ‘public realm’ created the necessary precondition for the birth of London’s Clubland.

1 E. Beresford Chancellor, Memorials of St James’s Street, Grant Richards, London, 1922, p. 25

2 E. Beresford Chancellor, Memorials of St James’s Street, Grant Richards, London, 1922, p. 16

3 British History Online

4 Calendar of State Papers, Vol. 340, pp. 3, 5, 6

5 E. Beresford Chancellor, Memorials of St James’s Street, Grant Richards, London, 1922, p. 185

6 Jonathan Swift, Journal to Stella, 29 September 1710

7The London Chronicle, 15–17 August 1765

8 The Postal Museum www.postalmuseum.org

9Letters of Baron Bielfeld, 1740-1741

CHAPTER 2

COFFEE-HOUSE SOCIABILITY

This is to give notice to all ingenious gentlemen

In and about the cities of London and Westminster

Who have a mind to be instructed in the noble sciences

Of music, poetry, and politics, that they repair

To the Smyrna Coffee House in Pall Mall.

Advertisement from the Tatler, 8 Oct 1709

In 1730 a slim guidebook A Brief and Merrie History of England was published explaining the strange nature of English customs to a foreign audience. Purporting to be the work of ‘Mohamad Hadgi, Physician to his Excellency Cossem Hojah, late envoy for the Government of Tripoli in South-Barbary’, the book was, in fact, the work of satirist Anthony Hilliar:

They (Londoners) represent these Coffee-houses as the most agreeable Things in London … but in other respects they are loathsome, full of Smoak, like a Guard-Room. I believe ’tis these Places that furnish the Inhabitants with Slander, for there one hears exact Accounts of everything done in Town as if it were but a Village.

At those Coffee-Houses near the Court, called White’s, St James’, Williams’s, the conversation turns chiefly upon Equipages, Essence, Horse-Matches, Tupees, Modes, Mortgages and Maidenheads; the Cocoa Tree upon Bribery and Corruption, Evil-Ministers, Errors and Mistakes in Government …1

Rather than being quiet retreats where the individual could order a coffee and drink it in peace, anyone who entered a coffee-house would have to be prepared to engage in rowdy debate, often with complete strangers. A crowded room furnished with plain bench seating and sawdust covering the floor, coffee-houses and their slightly more exclusive counterpart chocolate-houses were essentially masculine spaces where gentlemen would sit cheek by jowl.

A large pot of thick, dark coffee would be simmering in front of a fire from which a servant would pour the viscous liquid into small china mugs called cans. Bitter and full of grounds, coffee was a reviving if somewhat bitter drink whereas chocolate was a thick sweet brew flavoured with vanilla. In the packed room a rabble-rousing orator might be complaining loudly against the government or, huddled in a corner, a group might be discussing in hushed tones the latest scandal in court. In the hubbub of conversation, social distinctions were often blurred.

A Public Realm

For all its humour, Hilliar’s Brief and Merrie History is an accurate description of an early eighteenth-century St James’s Coffee-House. The egalitarian atmosphere promoted by coffee drinking coincided with the birth of a new social class popularly referred to as the ‘middling sort’.

Seventeenth-century society was based upon a land-owning aristocracy and the mass of the population lived in varying degrees of poverty. By the eighteenth century, social mobility was beginning to accelerate. St James’s attracted professionals, such as lawyers, doctors, stock-jobbers, speculators, bankers, and successful merchants, retailers and shop-keepers who formed what became known as ‘the middling sort’. These individuals had aspirational values and styled themselves gentlemen. Coffee-houses created a public realm where men of the ‘middling sort’ could mix with the established nobility and gentry.

In St James’s Street alone, there were twenty-five coffee- and chocolate-houses doing business throughout the eighteenth century.2 Business failure was high with the majority lasting in business no more than five years. But popular establishments like the Cocoa Tree, Gaunt’s, White’s, Ozinda’s, St James’s, the Smyrna and Williams’ survived and thrived, often moving to bigger premises on the same street.

The definition of a coffee-house was fluid. Taverns, coffee-houses and the more upmarket chocolate-houses co-existed in close proximity and many served a similar clientele.3 Proprietors of both types of establishment needed a victualler’s licence if they were to sell spirits, as most did.4 Many gentlemen frequented both types of establishment. Customer loyalty would be based on the quality of the roasted coffee served, and on whether the establishment served additional beverages like tea, chocolate, or liquor.