wn a little narrow street on
the south side of the Strand. Many people must have noticed these
things, few have had the curiosity to explore further; yet it is well
worth while to get down from omnibus or cab and venture into this little
backwater of the Savoy. Between eleven and one, and two and four
o'clock every day the garden gate is open, and the verger is in the
chapel, ready to answer questions. The little graveyard garden, with its
waving trees, is a veritable oasis in the desert of brick and mortar,
and the quaint chapel with its turret forms a suitable background. The
precincts of the Savoy appertain to the Duchy of Lancaster, and as such
are royal property; the reigning Sovereign keeps up the place, and pays
for choir and service. In former days many irregular marriages were
performed here, until the place gained a reputation second only to the
Fleet Prison. Weddings are still held here, though the procedure is now
strictly legal. The origin of the church was in the reign of Henry VII.,
but the fire which raged in 1864, and burnt out the interior, destroyed
many old relics, and the present interior is Early Victorian. There is a
curious old oil-painting opposite the door, which looks as if it had
been part of a triptych, and in the chancel two quaint little stone
figures, which survived the fire. The latest stained-glass window was
filled in quite recently in memory of D'Oyley Carte. It was unveiled by
Sir Henry Irving in the spring of 1902. Several persons of importance
have been buried here, but none whose names are sufficiently well known
to merit quotation. Many Bishops have been consecrated in the chapel,
and it was here that the memorable Conference on the Book of Common
Prayer took place in Charles II.'s reign. The chapel was made parochial
after the greedy Somerset had destroyed the first Church of St. Mary le
Strand, in order to use its materials for his own mansion. It had before
that time been dedicated to St. John the Baptist, but was henceforth
known as St. Mary le Savoy.

The history of the precinct of Savoy is difficult to treat in a volume
like the present, because it requires a book to itself. It is not the
paucity of material, but the quantity, that is embarrassing. The great
palace which stood here first was built by Simon de Montfort, Earl of
Leicester, one of the Barons to whom our present Constitution is due. By
one of the frequent vicissitudes of the times, when no man's land or
propert