DEAD WALLS.
Loup was the lament in Kensington Gore at the prospective rise of a spectacle of industry in its vicinage ; but the dirge slowly died away, when it was found that neither a joint purse, patrician morgue, nor scandal itself, was likely to avail against the plain uti- lity, royal patronage, and national distinction of the project. But
now that the signs are unmistakeable of an unique structure speedily emerging, which the Gorians will have the =bought grace of be- holding, it seems only reasonable that they should offer some atonement for past slight and opposition. Free interchange of benefits is the cardinal tendency of the age ; and as they will soon be gratified by a show unprecedented, which the world may never see the like of again, it seems fair to meet it, on their part, by some reciprocity of contribution. What we would suggest is, that they forthwith erase the abominable dead wall that stretches fiefore them almost uninterruptedly from Kensington to Knightsbridge ; and, as they will soon have a sample sight of all nations, let all nations have a sight of them. As it is, it might be in- ferred that they wish neither to see, nor to be seen by, aught that the world contains. But really the senseless brickwork in question is the great disfigurement of the Western entrance of London ; and what could have induced the occupants of so many , recherché mansions to live walled in like the inmates of peni- tentiaries or lunatic asylums, passes comprehension. Of course the right is indisputable—that is proverbially consecrated ; but it is , the taste and wholesomeness of the thing, and the sanction it gives to the common European sentiment of English pride, reserve, and exclusiveness, that is questionable.
It is true, Kensington is not alone in its glory; the same clois- tered or Bustle gloom may be descried thick in Mayfair and the Grosvenor, Cavendish, and Berkeley Square districts ; it -lowers over our most beautiful suburban hamlets ; Sheen, Kew, and Twickenham, are studded with noble villas barricaded up like so many robber-dens in the melancholy sera of the baronial wars. Who, with any poetic glow or love of nature, has not wished for the trumpet blast of Jericho to lay flat the- cold obstruction that excludes from view, for the best part of a mile, on the ascent to , Richmond Hill, the most soul-inspiring landscape of the kingdom ? What is the good of it all ? it profits none, but curtails to many a cheering gratification. Nor is the right quite clear : the exclusive look-out was not bought by the Lord President, nor by his neigh- bours ; they have no right to throw a " blanket over the moon " ; it is a common peep, and the thousands who yearly visit this fa- vourite locale ought to be free to enjoy it. The worst aspect of the dreary subject is, that the epidemic is on the increase, and descending from higher to lower strata. Even the officials of the British Museum claim to be walled in ; they too hate the sight of the profane vulgar, and ask for an em- bankment twelve feet high to hide their fastidiousness. But perhaps a compromise may be effected with these high personages for a dwarf wall and neat palisade. At all events, it is time to make a stand, when our own servants affect to be superior to pass- ing glances.
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