What do a Royal Park, King Edward VII and a Tube Station have in Common?
A Royal Park
Whether you are a visitor in London or working in the neighbourhood, you cannot have missed noticing the beautiful, ornate blue gate to Green Park on Piccadilly, near Green Park Station.
It’s never open, be it for cars or pedestrians. The pedestrian entrance is a mere 20 meters away, and you see from the picture, no driver would be able to go through these gates without subsequently giving their car mechanics a lot of work…
If they did though, they would drive in a straight line on what’s looking like a processional way to another gate, called Canada Gate, which is never open either, leading to Buckingham Palace:
The only procession I ever saw here was elephants, a couple of years ago
But what’s the story behind this seemingly useless gate? As with many things in London, this question led me to discover a new fascinating piece of the city’s history.
A Gateway to a Grand Past: Devonshire House
The blue gate isn’t just decorative; it’s a relic from a bygone era. It was once the grand entrance to Devonshire House, a luxurious palace that graced Piccadilly for more than 2 Centuries, standing close to this site from the 17th century until its demolition in the 1920s.
Home to the Dukes of Devonshire, the Palladian style house was completed in 1740 for the 3rd Duke, with William Kent serving as architect. This structure was built to replace the former Berkeley House, which burned down in 1733.
Berkeley House had been built in the 17th century by Lord Berkeley, and used to be the residence of one of Charles II’s mistress, Barbara Villiers, before the 1st Duke of Devonshire bought it in 1696.
The Dukes of Devonshire
The Duke of Devonshire is a British aristocratic title held by the Cavendish family, one of the wealthiest and most politically influential families since the 16th century. Their estates are actually in Derbyshire, in the East Midlands, and the title is unrelated to the county of Devon (formerly Devonshire)
At the top of the gate you can see the family’s coat of arms and motto ‘Cavendo Tutus’, which is Latin for ‘Safety through caution’.
It is not the most badass motto I ever encountered, but I do appreciate the Cavendish/Cavendo heraldic latin pun.
It is also on the facade of Chatsworth house, the Derbyshire seat of the Cavendish family since 1549:
Fun fact: it is also the official name for Cavendish Pianos in China:
King Edward VII
Devonshire House was a playground for London’s elite. Renowned for its opulent interiors and extravagant all-night parties filled with dancing, gossip, and gambling, it was frequented by socialites and even royalty, including the Prince of Wales, first-born son of Queen Victoria, who would later become King Edward VII.
In fact the king, known for his fondness for motor cars (quite the novelty back then! – He was the first royal to own an automobile), probably used this very gate to drive from Devonshire House to Marlborough House (also marked on the maps), his residence before he became King, or Buckingham Palace, both located a short distance away.
The Devonshire House Ball
The year 1897 was marked by a momentous social event, the highlight of the London season.
It was an elaborate fancy dress ball, hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, held on 2 July 1897 to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria (that is a reign of 60 years if – like me – you are never sure) .
Following the death of her beloved husband Prince Albert in 1861, Queen Victoria had withdrawn from social life and wasn’t present at the ball. For any social event, “the mantle of royal entertaining” was passed to the Prince of Wales and his wife Princess Alexandra.
The Devonshires were close friends of the Prince and Princess of Wales, and decided to organise the ball: more than 700 invitations were sent out a month before the event, although some reports of the event stated up to 3,000 invites.
By accident, Alfred, Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (Edward’s brother, 4th child of Victoria and Albert) and his wife Maria did not receive invitations. When the Duchess of Devonshire saw her at a different jubilee fête and asked if she was coming, the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha reportedly freezingly replied, ‘’Certainly not!’’
All the ‘crème de la crème’ was there: almost all of the British royal family, and nearly every other European royal family was represented.
Fortunately for us, the Duke of Devonshire had invited a photographer, who set up a tent in the garden behind the house to photograph the guests in costume during the Ball, and here are a few of them, just for your eyes:
The Prince of Wales dressed as the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitallers of Malta
The Princess of Wales, Alexandra, as Queen Marguerite de Valois
The Duchess of Devonshire as Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra
Viscount D’Abernon dressed as the Frans Hals’ painting ‘Willem van Heythuysen Posing with a Sword’
Victor Cavendish (later the 9th Duke of Devonshire) as Jean de Dinteville from Hans Holbein’s painting, The Ambassadors
And my personal favourite:
The Countess of Warwick, dressed as Marie Antoinette
You can find them all (?) on the National Portrait gallery Website here.
Following the ball, the Duchess received a letter indicating that the Prince found the party was a success.
A tube station
However, by the late 19th century, a new villain emerged: Estate Duties, a hefty tax burden on inherited wealth, and the 20th century only brought financial hardship for the Cavendish family.
The 9th Duke inherited significant debt, and coupled with these new inheritance taxes, the family was forced to make a heartbreaking decision: Devonshire House, with its vast grounds, a large 3 acre garden, had to be put up for sale in 1920, as well as many of the family’s valuables, including books printed by William Caxton and 1st editions of Shakespeare.
The sale was finalised in 1920 at a price of £750,000 (about £28 million in today’s money).
Sadly, the magnificent Devonshire House was demolished in 1924.
The two purchasers were Shurmer Sibthorpe and Lawrence Harrison, 2 wealthy industrialists.
Of course many people objected that the proposed demolition was an act of vandalism, but their reply was:
“Archaeologists have gathered round me and say I am a vandal, but personally I think the place is an eyesore.”
But was it though?
Although the exterior of Kent’s Devonshire House was quite plain, the interiors were said to be sumptuous, with a 40-foot long library the highlight of the three-story house.
The demolition was mentioned nostalgically several times in literature: Virginia Woolf’s Clarissa Dalloway recalls, as she passed down Piccadilly, of “Devonshire House without its gilt leopards”, a reference to the house’s gilded gates.
It also inspired the war poet and author Siegfried Sassoon to write his “Monody on the Demolition of Devonshire House”.
In 1924-1926, a new office block was built on the site, fronting directly onto Piccadilly, also known as ‘Devonshire House’.
The building became the UK headquarters of the French automobile manufacturer Citroën, with showrooms occupying the lower three floors, and what used to be the wine cellar of Devonshire House is now the ticket office of Green Park Underground station.
Some of the paintings and furniture from Devonshire House survive at Chatsworth House, and the wrought-iron entrance gate, between its rusticated piers topped with seated sphinxes, has been relocated on the south side of Piccadilly as an entrance to Green Park.
Today, these ornate gates stand as the sole physical reminder of Devonshire House’s past glory. They were awarded Grade II listed status in 1970, recognizing their historical and architectural significance.
Framing the Broad Walk in Green Park, they offer a majestic vista down to the Victoria Memorial and Buckingham Palace.
And Voilà. Mystery solved.
Helene
