Devonshire House, demolished 1924

Change is always difficult.  Writing in 1937, the 6th Duke of Portland (1857-1943) looked back on the London he knew as a young man:

In 1880 the great houses of London, taking them roughly from north to south, were: Hertford House in Manchester Square, the residence of Sir Richard Wallace, a son of Lord Hertford, now the home of the Wallace Collection; Grosvenor House in Upper Grosvenor Street, the residence of the Duke of Westminster; Dorchester House in Park Lane, built at vast expense by Mr. Holford on the lines of a Florentine palazzo... Londonderry House, also in Park Lane; Landsdowne House in Berkeley Square; Devonshire House in Piccadilly; Spencer House, overlooking St. James's Park; Chesterfield House; Stafford House... the home of the Duke of Sutherland; Bridgewater House, that of Lord Ellesmere; Apsley House, that of the Duke of Wellington; Montagu House in Whitehall, the residence of the Duke of Buccleuch; and Holland House, that of Lord Ilchester. 

- Men, Women, and Things, Memories of the Duke of Portland, K.G., G.C.V.O. [London: Faber & Faber, 1937]


Montagu House, demolished after 1917


Holland House, largely destroyed in bombing raids during the War, the remains now a youth hospice.

All these great houses the Duke explains were "thrown open every season for large social gatherings."  But by 1937, only four were still maintained as private residences, and "hideous" buildings had taken the place of Grosvenor House, Landsdowne House and Dorchester House.  

I think it is probably almost impossible for most of us born after the War (World War II, that is), to fuly appreciate the significance of the changes in the world the Duke was attempting to represent by this list of 13 houses.  The large cheap workforce necessary to keep them all running and clean and the inhabitants clothed and fed and groomed and tended to being the least of it.  Once, while attempting to fathom the matter, a man who didn't like me turned and asked in a tellingly acid tone, "And who are your people?"  As though, like the Duke, I too was lamenting the loss of a noble way of life.   

Which was absurd, as you know.  The best I might claim would be some past life nostalgia for holding a tray.  Which would completely miss the point.  One would sooner regret the end of slavery or the use of whale-bone corsets or public hangings, although I admit, there are times lately when I wish public executions of the enemies of the people weren't quite so frowned upon.  But I digress.

No, I'm simply interested in how we understand history.  We all have our share of heartaches and sorrows, our personal regrets and losses.  Wasn't I lamenting only the other day the vanishing Pennsylvania farmhouse? What's interesting to me is the question of when it all changed.  When, that is, the shift in balance (in consciousness, in awareness, in power) took place that sent us all teetering into another way of living altogether, another world, another paradigm.  The year, in other words, when everything important happened.    

The Duke's opinion in the matter, however, I must hasten to inform you, is not 1904.   Tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse, the Duke begins, but then gets specific,  explaining that the world as it should be and had always been, as he had come to know it and as symbolized by the great houses of London where he had gone to parties hosted by his social peers, which is to say the aristocracy and the immensely rich ruling elite who entertained in the Season, that this world essentially ended "with the election of 1906 and the Limehouse speeches of a prominent politician" [Lloyd George], which in turn signaled the demise of a strong opposition to "those who support socialistic or communistic principles."