N«^-=^ 'i ^^^^ I m 1 \ } \ ' f f !} - ' 'mS «^»5»^.v«»w^».'"^ 1 ];^i 1 i tta i iii i >,rn^i i iiiwniuwMM HM f»''i^n^HK tiii^eftimim mttkmi m PP! *<<» hbl, stx ■\ DA 683.B37 London bY... day. and, ni^ht : | |g^ 3 T153 DDS3fi277 7 DA 683 B37 Ji«i¥i€ >jooa qio LONDON BY DAY AND NIGHT; OR, MEN AND THINGS IN €^t ($tt\ii 3HetrnpnIi0 BY DAVID W. BART LETT. NEW YORK: HURST & CO., Publishers, 122 NASSAU STREET, PREFACE. It is customary, we believe, to write a preface, if one ven- Eiires to do that somewhat dangerous, though not uncommon thing — make a book. Taking advantage of this custom, we will not let our firstling go forth without a single explanation to live or die, according to its intrinsic merits. Our words shall be few, however — simply in explanation of the circum- stances under which we saw the emporium of England. In the autumn of 1847, at the age of nineteen, we sailed from Boston for Liverpool, and resided in the English capital for a year : again in the July of 1850 we set sail from New York for Liverpool, and spent another twelvemonth in London. This volume is the result of our observations during that time. We simply write of what we saw, and therefore the work is not a hand-book to London ; we have described some things at length, others with brevity, but make no pretensions of de- scribing all even of the prominent men and things in the Eng- lish metropolis. But as a faithful description of such men and things as came under our observation — as a true account of our own impressions of London, its places, people, their man- ners and customs, we hope for it the good opinion of those who raay honor it with attention. VI PREFACE. During our first year in London we were so busily occupied as scarcely to be able to have a fair view of its renowned places and men, but during our last year there, seeing and describing was our principal employinent. Our companion during that ear was our cousin and friend, Rufus C. Reynolds, Esq., and we cannot refrain from mentioning here the enthusiasm with which we together threaded the myriad avenues of the great town, seeking out not only the abodes of wealth and splendor, but the haunts of the poor and down-trodden. There are probably inaccuracies in the style of our pages, and possibly in statement, though, we trust, to a very limited extent. Our object has been to give a vi\nd j^icture of the English Metropolis, shifting quickly and easily from one sub- ject to another, and treating no single subject at any great length. We have, in carrying out our plan, made use of mat ter which has, in a more condensed and inaccurate form, been furnished by us while abroad, to several American journals ; but it has been revised and rewritten, and much new matter added thereto. If the reader is amused and instructed, our purpose will be accomplished. D. W. BARTLETT Thk Pines, Avon, Conn., February, 1852. CONTENTS, ►-•-♦- CHAPTER I. FIRST IMPRESSIONS. rxajt The Shore 11 Liverpool to Loudon 13 The Streets 20 St. Clement's Inn 26 Smithfield 28 CHAPTER n. THE PARKS. Hyde Park 82 Victoria Park 39 CHAPTER HL PLACES AND SIGHTS. Christ Church Hospital 42 Fires 47 Madame Tassaud's 51 Gutta Percha Factory 56 Saint Katharine Docks 59 CHAPTER IV. PICTURES OF MEN. George Cruikshank 63 Alfred Tennyson 61 Vlil CONTENTS. PAGR Charles Dickens 71 R. M. Milnes 74 Douglas Jerrold 76 CHAPTER V. CUSTOMS AND COSTUMES. Customs 78 Olasses 83 Costume 87 p]nglish Women 90 Burials in London 94 The Country 99 English Homes 1 04 Christmas , 106 CHAPTER VI. ENOLISH POVERTY. Spitalfields ; . HI Duck Lane 1 20 The Poor Tinker 1 24 St. Giles 126 CHAPTER VH. PERSONS OF NOTE. Sir Charles N"apier . . , . . . . 1 8C Duke of Wellington ] 33 jVlacaulay " 138 Browning. 140 Bulwer , 141 WiUiam and Mary Howitt 144 Thomas Carlyle 151 Ebenezer Elliott 155 CHAPTER Vni. REMARKABLE PLACES. Billingsgate Market , 160 Thames Tunnel 163 The Old Bailey 169 Somerset House 176 The Fire Monument 179 A Jewish Synagogue 184 CONTENTS. IX CHAPTER IX. THE ARISTOCRACY. page The Fobles 190 Earl of Carlisle 196 Lord Brougham 201 CHAPTER X. JOURNALISM. The Times 203 Daily Press 207 Weekly Press 210 CHAPTER XL THE QUEEN AND PRINCE ALBERT 213. CHAPTER XH. PARLIAMENT. House of Lords 218 House of Commons 223 CHAPTER Xni. A TRIP TO HAMPTON COURT 228 CHAPTER XIV. REMINISCENCES OP THE PAST. Bunyan's Grave 237 Stoke Newington 2-14 Kampstead and Highgate 245 Chatterton 249 Nelson's Tomb • . 253 CHAPTER XS^. STRANGERS IN LONDON. Americans. 257 Grisi and Alboni 26C Freiligrath , 263 A* X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVI. POPULAR ORATORS. pj^Q, Edward Miall 268 Henry Vincent 269 CHAPTER XVH. PULPIT ORATORS. Dr.McNeile \ 275 Fox 277 Thomas Binney 280 CHAPTER XVin. WESTMINSTER ABBEY 283 CHAPTER XIX. MENANDTHINGS. Spencer T. Hall 293 Mr. Muntz ■ 298 Sir Peter Laurie 801 Temperance 303 The People 306 English Habits 311 Oppression , 315 CHAPTER XX. THE CRYSTAL PALACE. The Opening 318 The Exhibition 320 The Close 323 CHAPTER XXI. FAREWELL 326 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. CHAPTEB I FIRST IMPRESSIONS. THE SHORE. It was a morning in autumn, fair and lovely ^ wKen We first gazed upon the shores of Ireland while on our way from Bos- ton to Liverpool. We had been careeriiior over rough and disagreeable seas for many days and nights, and to wake and suddenly discover the beautiful fields of Ireland close under our quarter, seemed magical. The morning sun was upon it making it radiant with beauty, the hues of the landscape were emerald, and the sky was a mellow-gfay— and it was not strange that our hearts throbbed with enthusiastic excitement. The sight of land is always dear to the sailor, and espe- cially to those unused to the mountain wave ; but now we Were approaching those countries of old renown which we had longed to see for many a year, and our enthusiasm was the keener from this feeling of exquisite romance^ which can- not be described. The sailors were joyous with their uncouth but hearty land- songs and were getting the anchor^chains out — the passengers were indastriously packing their baggage for the unpleasant ordeal at the Custom House, and a few looked almost sadly upon the staunch vessel which had borne us so safely ovm 12 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON, the dangers of the ocean, and to which we were now about to bid farewell. The wind bore lis quickly along our course, and soon we had crossed the channel oyer to the Welsh coast and had the pleasure of gazing at the grand Welsh mountains and the picturesque hamlets and windmills. The number of sail in- creased as we neared the mouth of the Mersey, and at last when a little, snorting steam4ug — looking puny though in reality our master — favor-ed us with its assistance, we were surrounded by vessels of all shapes and sizes and from the four quarter.? of the world. Our veteran captain now came upon the quarter-deck in land- clothes— the striped shirt-collar and pilot overcoat were relin- quished for another voyage. The passengers too were dressed for shore, and had smiling faces, and some were so utterly de- void of romance as to talk audibly of English roast-beef, and plum-puddings! The pilot gave us a half dozen old news- papers to read, while he gladly accepted an American cigar, which he smoked with the exquisite satisfaction of knowing it. bad never paid duty at a Custom House, And finally Liverpool looms up in the distance, with ht^ steeples, her great forest of ships and steamers, and her g'- gantic docks. We are no longer at the sport of the winds, but are fairly abreast the town, and our anchor goes hissing down to seize upon reality once more. There is a noise of. cheering among the crew, and we transfer ourselves and bag- gage to the little Tug and steer for the Custom House, Here we are detained for an hour, perhaps longer, and undergo an tuipieasant examination, but at last it is all over and we stand free in the streets of Liverpool— we are in the Old World ! But we cannot afford to pass by the Custom. House so easily. The officers of the English Custom Houses are by no means the same kind of men as those who officiate in our own Cus- tom Houses. Ours are invariably gentlemen, and treat stran- FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 13 gers with politeness. Such is not always the case in England The officer into whose hands we fell at Liverpool was ex- ceedingly morose, though we handed him the key of oui trunk to gaze at what he pleased. And he overturned the whole contents, and opened a little daguerreotype-portrait and weighed it, charging so much the ounce upon it I It seemed to us excessively mean for great England to charge us a few pennies on our mother's picture I We think the official ex- ceeded his duty, probably because he was in a bad humor. We have never since been so ill-treated by an English official, and think that this one in his surliness was not a fair speci- men of the class. LIVERPOOL TO LONDON. That which strikes the American most forcibly, as he en- ters London, is the apparent age and magnificent solidity of everything about him. He has been accustomed to look upon everything, save the region of the skies, as transitory and ephemeral. In a land where great towns grow up in a few years, change is the law and passion of the people The cities, even in the Atlantic States, are constantly undergoing such transitions that were a citizen of one of them to absent him- self ten years he could scarcely know the place upon his return as the one he had left. Whole miles of streets, perhaps, have been added, great buildings erected, and large sections torn down, or burnt and rebuilt during his absence. Many of our railroads have, to an English eye, an unfinished appearance, and some of them are temporary performances Railway bridges are often constructed of wood, spiles being driven into the earth, instead of using the solid stones which can never decay. Some of them cross tracts of territory where the shrieks of the stearn-horse startle the will deer in their lonely haunts. 14 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. When the American lands in Liverpool, the first sig^ht which bursts upon him is of the tluays and Docks, and theii solid masonry strikes him M'ith wonder. They seem to have existed for ages, and promise to exist without repair for all ages to come. The long rows of warehouses, and stores, look grim and dark as if they had seen a year of Avinters. The bricks of which they are made are twice the size of American bricks, and are dark as iron in their color. When the railway is taken for London the trans-Atlantic stranger is surprised to see how thoroughly, how strongly, and on what a magnificent scale the road is constructed. From London to Liverpool there are two carefully laid tracks, and a portion of the distance three and four. It would be con- sidered madness to run trains upon a line vv'ith but one track, and the law would not allow it. He notices how splendidly all the bridges are made, as if to last forever; how hills are tunnelled through, and yawning chasms wired over with sus- pension bridges ; hov^^ careful the ofiicers of the road are of the life in their keeping ; not allowing any one to cross the track, or stand upon the platform of the car, or put his head out of the window while under way ; and yet with all this care, when he gets to London and looks at his watch he finds that he has made his journey of 210 miles quicker than he ever made a similar journey before, in his life. If he carac in a first-class car he was, however, better satisfied with its com- fort and ease than its price, for upon the whole, Am-^rican railway travelling is cheaper by one third than the English. For his ride he paid nearly twelve dollars, which is one half more than he would have paid for the same distance en an American line. It is on the rail that the American [generally gets his first taste of English prices and manners. Of all men, save us from travelling Englishmen. They are no more like themselves at home and surrounded by their household gods, than is a sleeping tiger like a tiger awake and voracious. In FIRST IMPRRSSIONS. 15 coming from Liverpool to London we were shut up in a car with an Englishman whose profession was, judging hy ap- Dearances, commercial. He eyed us from head to foot aa carefully as if we had been an orang-outang instead of a humble member of the human fraternity. But he never ven- tured to utter a loud word. At last we ventured to say : " It is a pleasant day. sir I" He replied by a mere monosyllable, and evidently woul not talk — so we rode for miles until a vision of beauty — a lovely valley with a stream meandering through it, and with soft hills in the distance — burst upon us, and we could not hold our tongue, and exclaimed, "How beautiful!" It seemed as if a ghost of a smile flitted over his face aa we said this, as if he was not entirely insensible to praise of his native land from the lips of a foreigner, but he uttered not a word till we arrived at the Euston Square Station, when one of the railway porters ran off with his trunk by mistake, and he bellowed forth his wrath lustily, while we exclaimed in our heart, " Capital ! — the man can talk !" This is a feature in the English which is often noticed and commented on harshly by strangers who only reside in Eng- land for a short time, and to a certain extent it is richly deserved ; but we have learned from experience that often these very men v.'ho are so morose as travellers, are really noble, and kind, and faithful, and perhaps generous to a fault. It is one of the peculiarities of a London man of business, that he is shy of strangers v;hile travelling, but if in any manner you find your way to his heart and home, you are surprised to discover a region of beauty and kindness you had not dreamt of, and if you are in need, or sorrow, the sanctities of home are freely offered to you, and even pressed upon you ; his purse is yours to any extent, and your name will never be- come quite obliterated nom his heart. — At first sight the Frenchman gives you a more cordial greeting, but he is not 16 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. constant and grandly unchanging. While all is fair, he is impulsively warm and courteous, but he soon wearies of any great exertions in your favor, if they include anything more costly than politeness. Still a valuable lesson may be learned from the politeness of the French — you may give gladsome- ness to the stranger's heart often by words and looks, which cost nothing. The Englishman shows his rough qualities first — his gentle ones afterwards. Emerson says, that in ad- versity the Englishman is grand. He is right, and also to persons in adversity, throughout liis conduct to such, if they are his friends, he is grand i It is unwise to judge a people superficially, as the majority of English travellers have judged America ; and the American in London is very liable to. make up his mind that the race of Englishmen is the least affectionate of any on the face of the earth, but such is not the fact. At first sight they appear to be so, but a second sober view reveals a different story. If the stranger leaves the Euston Square railway station for a fashionable hotel, he will order the cabman to drive hiin to somewhere west of Charing Gross, or to Morley's Tavern, at Charing Cross. If he is a business man, he will drive to somewhere within the limits of the city-proper, in the region of the Royal Exchange, perhaps to the North and South American Hotel facing it. These two points of attraction — Charing Cross and the Royal Exchange — are nearly three miles apart, and the genuine Pelham never is to be seen east of the Cross. Sheridan once caught the celebrated Beau Brummel on the unfashionable side of the Cross ; the elegant and fastidious Beau v/as severely mortified, or affjctcd to be go, and attempted several excuses, when Sheridan adminis- tered to him a pungent rebuke under the color of a witticism If the stranger in London is a man of wealth and fashion, and proceeds to a West End ILtel, he very soon learns that paying for fashion is vastly dearer in London than pajing foi FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 17 it in New York. It is quite a different thing, living in the metropolis of England like a gentleman of wealth and hlood, from living in an American town as such. Instead of your Astor House or Irving House prices of from two to five dollars a day, the same attention and almost extravagant profusion of delicacies will cost from ten to twenty dollars per day Everything is charged for separately. Every dish and every attention, we might almost say, must be paid for in British gold. And when your bill is settled, you must make a large allowance for the fees to the waiters, chambermaid, " boots," and so forth. You will perhaps wish a carriage or cabriolet of your own, and will be obliged to pay twice or tl'T'?*'; times the amount for any kind of an establishment by the month oi six months, that you would pay in Boston or New York. You can get nothing, look at nothing, without paying dearl} for it. The appearance of the streets at the West End will be much more pleasant to you than of those of any other quarter of London. There is an air of cleanliness about them one sees nowhere else in town, but even they look older and much more substantial than the streets of American towns. You wander forth from your Hotel, and stand upon thefin€ Square which contains the Ueservoir and Nelson's Monument. You are 7tot pleased with either, for they have serious faults The fountain is not equal to its position — you are reminded of the jet from a hand-syringe — it is so thread-like and insig- nificant. The building which contains the National Gallery of Paintings stands on the northern side of the Square, but you are not exactly pleased with it, and so turn your back to t, and wander down southward toward the river Thames. A sight of Westminster Abbey suddenly bursts upon you, and the?i you are struck dumb with awe at the age and glorious beauty of the scene, and when you remember how many ceu" tunes the brave old building hag withstood the beatings of 2 18 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. the winter storms — how many summers' suns have gilded ita towers, so that glooms and smiles have alike become daguer- reotyped upon its countenance, you feel your heart tremble with a solemn, yet half-pathetic delight ! Another and a more gorgeous spectacle presents itself to your wondering eyes — the nev/ Houses of Parliament not yet completed, but near enough so to win your unbounded admi- ration. Such architectural beauty (unless you have previously traversed the continent) 'your eyes are unaccustomed to, and you prize it moie than thost; who have been born among it. You are surprised with the number, the splendor and mag ni licence of the carriages of the aristocracy. It seems liter- ally as if there was no end to brilliant equipages and turn- outs, and you conclude that the wealth of London is almost boundless. All day long at Charing Cross you may see pri- vate carriages of great beauty and costliness speeding awaj like the wind, hither and thither, up from Downing-street away towards Piccadilly and Hyde Park — in every direction The great Parks are open to view, and their rural scenery contrasts strangely with the brick houses and forests of chim- neys. You enter them, and tread upon soft, green grass ; birds sing melodiously over your head in the branches of the lofty trees ; children gambol in the sunshine before you, and you conclude that Englishmen have a care for health as well as wealth. Some unlucky day you chance to lose your way, and wander a little back of Westminster Abbey into old Pye street, or Duck Lane. Great heavens I— what can this mean ? You see wretchedness the most bitter, destitution the most utter, and vice the most terrible, that ever you saw. It was but a step from your forraer paradise to this unsightly hell — and all, too within a stone's throw of the glorious old Abbey I You never wdll forget the shock you received that day, and when you are in your room, and have pondered over it. you are satisfied that everything in this world has its dark, as FIRSr IMPRESSIONS. 19 well as bright side — and that truly London has one side which is too painfully dark and horrible to gaze at with complacent nerves. Perhaps you are not a man of fashion, but a man of busi- ness, and drive from the railway straight to the Exchange, down in the city. Almost your first walk is to see venerable St. Paul's, the most remarkable piece of architecture in Lon- don, if not in the world ; and when you gaze upon it, it is with a feeling of reverence for so much solemn beauty. It was never our lot to gaze upon a building of such majesty as St. Paul's. Those who are competent to judge assert that it is only equalled by one building in the world, and that is St. Peter's, at Rome ; and that, in the opinion of some eminent critics, does not surpass it. London has few public buildings to be proud of ; it is upon the whole a smoky, gloomy town, but three buildings it may justly glory in — the new Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and Saint Paul's. The majestic grandeur of the lat- ter settles down upon London with a grace which adds great dignity to the metropolis of the British Empire. After seeing St. Paul's, you hurry at once to see Thames Tunnel — that wonder of the world, and you acknowledge, as you gaze upon it, that it is a living proof of the industry and genius of the English nation. But, if your hotel be in the vicinity of the Exchange, you very soon venture east — east, mto that wild wilderness of misery and suffering called Spit- aliields. You traverse street after street, and see nothing but the most disgusting, the most beseeching poverty. There are thousands of men and women there who never have known what plenty is, what pure joy is, but are herded together, thieves, prostitutes, robbers and working-men, in frightful masses. You meet beggars at every step ; at night the streets are crowded with wretched women, called in mockery " women of pleasure," and you are horror-struck when you 20 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. learn from reliable sources, that many of these are but chil dren in age— but fourteen years old, some of them, and the fear of starvation is what has driven them to vice. Upon their faces there is a look of wan despair which tells the story of their infamy. Your impressions, first and last, are, that in London there is good and ill ; enormous wealth and terrible poverty ; great '/irtue and frightful vice ; beautiful churches and thousands who can never enter them for want of decent raiment ; — in fact that London is the wealthiest and most wretched city in the world — the city of extremes I THE STREETS, (fee. After spending a few days at a hotel, we learned from an English friend the fact, that superior comfort and independence could be secured for less money by taking apartments in a private house. This we did, renting a sleeping apartment, a drawing-room, use of plate, and service for a reasonable sum. This is in fact the universal mode of living among English bachelors, and is more economical, if one chooses to make it so, than a life at a hotel. You dine as richly as, and when you please ; go and come when you please ; invite as many friends to take supper with you as suits your fancy, and be- sides paying a certain sum for the use of apartments, plate and servants, only pay the market price for provisions con- sumed. We soon liked the ease and freedom of^life in lodg- i igs in preference to the more noisy, bustling life of a hotel. By degrees the streets became familiar to us, that is, the leading thoroughfares in the more central portions of the town — as a matter of course the greater portion of London for months was an unexplored wilderness to us. Regent-street is one of the most spacious and elegant streets in the world, and we doubt if it has an equal. There ■ FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 21 is a grandeur in its width, in the lofty beauty of its buildings, which are simple though rich, which we have scarcel} if ever seen otherwheres. The western part of Piccadilly is a splendid street, and is very fashionable, as the Diike of Wel- inglon lives in it and other distinguished noblemen But the busiest, noisiest, and most crowded street in the English metropolis is that called the " Strand." It runs rom Charing Cross eastward to Temple Bar — the same street under the name of "Fleet," extends east of Temple Bar to St. Paul's Cathedral. Dr. Johnson in his day considered Charing Cross to be the most lively spot in London, and it is in our opinion the case now, for from it one sees the traffic of the " city" combined with the aristocratic equipage of the West End. Temple Bar is the western boundary of the ancient city of London, and therefore the Strand belongs to Westminster. The Bar or Gateway is a quaint-looking structure', dingy with smoke, and always has its apparently useless gates secured apart. We must except state occasions, for then her majesty Q,ueen Victoria cannot pass through that gateway without asking permission of the city authorities. Her power as Clueen of territories so vast that the sun never sets upon them avails her nothing then — she must sue for admittance like a very beg'gar I It is a curious sight when she enters the city-proper upon state occasions. The dingy old gates of Temple Bar are then folded together and locked as if a foreign invader were to be kept out. The royal procession goes slowly on until the Bar is reached, and it stops humbly and asks if it may enter. One of the Q,ueen's officers, ap- parelled, as a matter of course, in gorgeous gewgaws, descends from a carriage and knocks upon the gate. The Lord Mayor of London asks with as much pompous dignity as if he really didn't know : " Who is there ?" The reply comes with equal pomposity-— 22 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. "The aueen!" Then the gates are opened, and amid protestations or" loyalty and love the monarch enters the city of London I The cus- tom seems to outsiders a foolish and laughable one, but not so to the Londoner. To him it is a legal, constitutional right which he never would think of relinquishing to the most popular sovereign in the world — thanks to his genuine English love of liberty and independence. It is one of the privi- leges of the city of London — that even the King cannot enter it without leave I It matters little now, but the times once were when the privilege were worth possessing, when rapacious men sat upon the throne — and such times may be again. It seems a waste of words where so gentle a creature as Victoria Guelph is concerned, a nonsensical form, but no one can tell the temper of England's rulers in the future I The Londoner, notwithstanding his profuse exhibitions of loyalty, is neverthe- less proud of this privilege, and it gratifies him not a little to know that even the monarch cannot enter his gates without liberty I In coming from the Strand through Fleet-street to the Exchange one gets a fine view of Saint Paul's, and the con- trast on week-days between its holy grandeur and the din and strife of the Fleet and Strand is singular and striking. Fleet- street is somewhat famous for the hasty and irreverent mar- riages once perpetrated in it. Husbands and wives were bought and sold with astonishing facility and dispatch on the spot ; shameless wretches for paltry fees married whoever presented themselves, and sometimes, indeed often, the cere- nony was performed in the street. It was unsafe for a pretty woman to venture near it, and rich heiresses were sometimes forcibly abducted and married in the Fleet against their will ; worse yet, even women who for some object wished to establish the legal fact that they were married, and «tiil did not wish the trouble of a husband, came to the Flee*, FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 2S and bribed some low fellow to go through the ceremony of marriage, with the understanding that as soon as it was over that he was never to be seen again. The Strand is almost entirely given up to shops and places of business. Go where you will in it and you are sure to find a constant succession of draper's shops, book-stores, and lun- cheon rooms. There are several journals published in it. The ^'Nonconformist,'' edited by Edward Miall, one of the first writers in London, is published in the Strand. " Puncli' is on the city side of Temple Bar — the building in which it is publish- ed stands upon the spot where formerly stood the house in which the immortal Milton lived. The " Morning Chronicle'" is published in the Strand, the paper on which Charles Dickens was once a reporter, and in which he first published " Sketches by Boz." The " Illustrated London News,'' and many other well-known journals are also published in it. The noise of the street is at times overpowering to a person of weak nerves, and the confusion indescribable. It is almost as much as a man's life is worth to attempt to cross it on cer- tain times. Sometimes for half a mile it is completely choked up with vehicles of all descriptions, so wedged in together that a long time elapses before the current moves on again. The policeman with his leather-topped hat and baton is busy giving an order here, assisting there, and exercising in a laughable manner his authority. There have been occasions jvlien a dense fog has suddenly at night settled down upon the Strand, and carriages have become so entangled with each other, that they were obliged to remain until the fog raised its gloomy pall from the earth. There are many circumstances which combine to make Charing Cross one of the busiest spots in London. There, several streets pour forth iheir crowds of people, and car nages of all descriptions. Standing by Nelson's Column ons can on one hand see the splendid equipages of the aristocracy, 24 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. and oil the other get a good view of the competition and spirit and energy of the trade in the city. It is the spot where Commerce and Nobility seem to shake hands with each other — where splendid Pride smiles coldly and yet half- patronizingly down upon toiling Industry and energetic Trade. Edward I., centuries ago, going to Westminster Abbey to inter his consort, stopped at " the little hamlet of Chariri.g," and erected a cross in honor of the resting-place. There were then but few buildings there — what a change ! Upon the identical spot where the cross w^as placed, now stands the statue of Charles I. It was once condemned by Parlia- ment to be broken up, but was saved by a lover of royalty upon the spot ; before the statue was replaced, the regicides suffered death. It was there that the noble Harrison was so inhumanly tortured to death, his very bowels being cut out before his eyes by the officers of the unprincipled and luxuri- ous Charles II. The lofty courage which the regicides exhibited on that spot of death, made a profound impression upon the hearts of the people, and the government paused amid its bloody ca- reer for very fear. Although tortures the most fiendish were heaped upon Harrison, not a single murmur escaped his lips, not a cry or reproach until he was seized with delirium. After he had been cut down alive and his bowels cast into the fii'e before his eyes, by his executioner, he rose on his feet and gave the wretch a blow on his ear. The act was, how- ever, a delirious one, for during the earlier stages of his tor tures, when he must have felt more keenly the agony of suf- fering, he was calm and uncomplaining, and suffered like a Christian martyr. We have often, when on the spot, contrasted the noise and tumult of the scene around it with the quiet and beautiful Sfiave of one of the regicides on the Green in the city of New FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 51 Haven — the calm and natural death of one, with the liorribib atrocities which caused the death of the other. Tavistock-street, which lies just in the rear of a portion of the Strand, is the place where Lord Sandwich first saw the beautiful but unfortunate actress, Miss Ray. Maiden Lane, not far off, was the street in which Voltaire, resided while in England, and from a house in it he wrote a celebrated letter to Dsan Swift. There is another street, not far from Tavistock-street, Rus- sell-street, which once contained the little book-shop where James Boswell was first introduced to the great Dr. Johnson. Little did the loquacious and fawning Scotchman then sup- pose that he was one day to become the biographer of the man before whom he trembled, and in that manner hand himself, arm-in-arm with Samuel Johnson, down to succeed- ing ages ! Who that has ever read his life of Johnson, will ever forget his description of the interview in the little book- shop in E-ussell- street ? Who does not delight to forget him- self and the cares which press sorely about him in the pages of Boswell, notwithstanding all their adulation ? He tells us honestly and simply how he felt before " the awful approach" of the author of the Rambler, and it is for this childish sin- cerity that he is so liked. A man who will not hesitate, as he did not, to describe scenes wherein he himself acted the part of a fool, for the pleasure of the friend he is describing, may be relied on as a truth-teller. It was utterly impossible for him to worship more than one man, and he was Johnson ; and he wrote one of the most interesting biographies that ever was written, when he wrote the life of his great hero, the great master in English literature. Macaulay, however, has* very conclusively shown that, however great a master in lite- rature, he was not without grievous faults as a man, and that he used his pen against the cause of liberty. There is a building in Holborn-street, now occupied by a 26 WHAT I SAW IN LONDOX. wholesale dealer in furniture, which once contained in a little garret-room the boy-poet, Chatterton. We visited it one day but discovered no traces of the garret-room. In answer to our inquiries, the proprietor informed us that Lord Bacon once had a suite of apartments in it — the name of Chattertoa he seemed never to have heard before ! It was there that Chatterton lived for a short time and perished. It was there that, after being deserted by friend after friend, and while on the point of starvation, with his own hands he ended his young life. He was dying by inches with hunger, while the conceited Walpole, who had turned him off to die with less compunction than a hunter would feel when shooting a deer, was luxuriously supplied with all that wealth could purchase ; and so the young poet was buried among the paupers of Shoe Lane ! But the world has not suffered his name and mem- ory to perish ; and though no shaft of marble may t^ver tell the stranger where his dust lies, yet he shall never, so long as the English language lives, be forgotten ! He lives as well as Horace Walpole, and it is easier to forgive his errors, committed while in despair, and while tasting the woes of bitterest poverty, than to forgive those of the nobleman who, amid all the rich blessings which God had shed upon him, grew fastidious and proud, and despised God's image unless it were covered with the insignia of nobility. ST. CLEMENT'S INN. There are in London many quaint old places, and it was always our delight when there to linger about them. There is one which opens into the Strand. We had often noticed while walking in it a queer-looking archway, on the northern side, with enormous pillars, and looking more like the en- trance to a palace than anything less pretending. As noth- ing presented itself to view beyond them, save a row of littk FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 27 shops, a cluster of orange- women, and hot-potato-boys, we came to the conchision that the grand entrance mu&t have been the work of some madman who chanced to have gold as well as a disordered brain, until in reading one of Albert * Smith's stories, we got at the truth of the matter. One of his renowned characters, (in " Christopher Tadpcle,") Mr. Gudge the lawyer, had his office beyond these pillars, and his poor clerk used to come and buy a hot potato occasionally of Stipier, under the archway, which was a most grandiloquent preface to modest and ruinous — St. Clement's Inn ; a quarter sadly infested with lawyers. During our next walk up the Strand, we entered the opening with a desire to gaze at a spot sacred to law. At first we saw nothing but a succession of dirty shops, and the street gradually narrowed down to a mere foot-path, so that the archway could never have been intended for the entrance of carriages ; for should they enter, there would be no retreat except by a reversion of the wheels. We soon entered the open court of the Inn, and it certainly was one of the quaintest places we ever were in before. The court was square, with a little central plot of ground enclcsed by what was once an iron fence of some solidity, but which now was in a state of melancholy dilapidation. The grass on the small bit of lawn was bright and green, but the two or three old trees which were there looked forlorn enough. The buildings, which were of brick, were of a sickly hue, and there was a stillness over everything like that of a coun- try church-yard. This then was the spot in honor of which the imposing archway had been erected ; this was the home for lawyers. A more dismal, ghost-like place we hope never to see, and by a slight use of imagination, we could believe the spot haunted with the spirits of ruined clients. The patch of beautiful grass under our feet and the strip of heav- en's blue overhead, only made the gloominess by contrast more intense. 28 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. The houses seemed to have existed for centuries, so antique were they in every feature. The lawyers in them were either not in them, or were still as a breezeless day on the ocean. The iron pickets of the fence were, some of them, broken and thers nearly rusted out with age. The noise of the Strand fjoated indistinctly, in surges, to our ears, for a thick breast- work of buildings guarded the spot from the passionate cries and noises of the world. The distance was not long — a few steps would bring us into the busiest thoroughfare in London ; and still this antiquated place was as quiet as if a mortal had *not placed foot in it for half a century. The spirit of progress or improvement had not dared to lay its innovating finger upon aught. It would have been an easy matter to suppose that it looked the same in the days of Coke. While we were there we saw only one person ; he had gray hair, and wore old-fashioned breeches, and stockings, and seemed to be the guardian spirit of the quaint old spot. There is egress from the place by foot-paths, through gates, northward into Hol- born and southward into the Strand. Turning southward, in a few minutes v^^e plunged into the uproar and confusion of the street — it seemed like passing from death once more into hfe ! SMITHFIELD. Some distance to the north-east of St. Clement's Inn is Smith field Market, where live cattle are bought and sold ; a place renowned wherever the religion of Protestantism is known ; for upon that open area of ground Latimer and Rid- ley were burned. But it is a sorry place in which to indulge in sentiment, for it is one of the greatest nuisances in London. We arose early one Monday morning and visited it before breakfast. On our way we crossed " Bartholomew Close," the place where the author of Paradise Lost once hid himself from his governmental persecutors. We also saw " the Barbican." FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 29 Although it was very early when we stood with " Smith- Held" before us yet the market was fall of cattle. The place was exceedingly noxious, and it struck us that it must be ex- ceedingly prejudicial to the health of the inhabitants who V9 bide in the streets in its vicinity. The market is an open area, paved with small round stones, and contains eight or nine acres of ground. In one quarter there were hundreds of small enclosures for sheep, pigs and calves, and across the other portions strong fences ran to which the cattle are generally tied. Sometimes a circle of " beeves" IS made by obliging a dozen of them to turn their heads to- gether in a common centre, and a good driver without rope or sentre-post will keep a dozen of powerful cattle together for hours in this manner. There were that morning about ten thousand head of cattle in the market, and perhaps twenty thousand head of sheep. The noise and confusion of the place was indescribable. Scores of shepherd's and drover's dogs were tied to the fences, their " occupation gone" now that the cattle or sheep were penned up or secured. Nevertheless whenever a squad of sheep were marched off by some metro- politan buyer, the curs, as if unaware of any honest bargain by which the ownership had been transferred, set up a shrill howl of discontent. There were acres of cattle and sheep, and hundreds of buyers and sellers, and all in the very heart of London. The buildings surrounding the market were gen- erally low and ancient in their appearance, and their inhabi- tants seemed to be of a different race from the rest of the Londoners. And this was where " the fires of Smithfield" were lit ! On this spot the first martyrs of the great Reformation perished There was something strange to us in the thought that there were houses before us whose walls saw the kindling flames as they wrapt in their lurid glow the bodies of Ridley and Latimer ! But Smithfield is not now the field for martyrs 30 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. to perish on — neither is it hke the field of Waterloo — a place which nien take pleasure in visiting, in honor of heroic deeds, for Waterloo is yet a beautiful spot, while Srnithfield is a nuisance. Yet the deeds of the martyrs were incomparably greater and holier than any that were ever enacted upon the field of Waterloo. We were sorry we had visited Srnithfield, for previously the name of " Smithfield" had a sound of heroic martyrdom in it, but henceforth its name is redolent of traffic and wild bulls and unpleasant odors. It is strange that so civilized a city as London has allowed so long a live cattle-market in its bosom. What would Bos- tonians think if Brighton Market were held on the Common ? ■ — think that all Cochituate could not wash out the disgrace I Yet London has allowed the intolerable nuisance for ages. Heads of cattle are constantly driven to and from the market through the principal streets of the city, to the constant danger of the people. Many lives have been sacrificed— women have been gored to death on the public side-walks. There is nothing in the world which clings so long to life as an old, London " privilege." But at last Parliament has in- terfered, and the market is doomed. It was in vain that half the v/ealth of London clung to the dangerous " privilege," the legislators for the kingdom would no longer look on such a horrible plague-spot in the centre of the greatest city in the civilized world ! The men of capital stirred every nerve to prevent the parliamentary act, but were, thank heaven, de- feated. It is proposed by some to turn the market into a park^ — a happy thought. A marble shaft should then point out thi? spot where the martyrs perished, and it would be a sacred place to the Protestants of the world. CHAPTER II. THE PARKS. There is no park in London which, in point of fashion, at all approaches to Hyde Park. There is Victoria Park away in the eastern part of London, amid beggars and poor people, mechanics and small tradesmen — its acres have God's sky over them like those in Hyde, but never a man of ton sets his foot there, for it is too vulgar, too plebeian ground I Its grass is just as green and soft as that in wealthier quarters — and the poor bless God for it — ^but splendid carriages are never to be seen in it, nor people of wealth and respectable standing in society, reckoning after the English manner. St, James Park is beautiful, but it is not fitted for car- riages like Hyde, and Fashion never deigns to walk in town during the season. Green Park spreads out in front of Piccadilly, and is pleas- ant, but it has no Serpentine river to add to its beauty. It ia a famous place for the children to romp in, and scream, and dance, and play wild sports. Poor men's children are fond of coming there to catch a sight of the blue skies, and to play in the free breezes which sweep across it. The stomachs of the elite are altogether too delicate to bear the sight of these ragged and dirty-faced children — if they were as delicate in the treatment of their consciences, it would be better for them- selves and the world lying in misery about them. Regent's Park is of greater extent than any other in the 82 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. Metropolis. It has its Botanical and Zoological Gardens, its Hippopotamus, and in fact all manner of wild beasts, so that the miUion go there, not for fresh air, or to exhibit them- selves, but to see its curious sights, just as they flock to the National Gallery, or the Museum. The only park where people may be said to go to see, and be seen, is Hyde Park, and as it is tlie only fashionable one in London, is worthy of a careful description. Its extent is not far from 400 acres. Regent's Paik has an area of over 400 ; St. James of 83 ; Kensington Gardens, 290; Green Park, 71; Victoria Park, IGO ;. and Green- wich Park, 174. So that London is very well off for breath- ing-spots, considering the immense worth of space Avhere the parks are situated. Still there is a strong party who are urging upon Parliament to construct still another park for the people in the region of Finsbury. HYDE PARK Hyde Park is situated in the centre of the .fashion and re- epectability. Piccadilly runs into it ; " Belgravia" (the region of Belgrave Square) lies a trifle to the south-east of it, while Bromjiton is a little to the south-west. Green Park runs up as close to it as the pathway which separates them will allow, and St. James' Park stands in about the same relation to Green Park, that Green does to Hyde, so that there are three parks touching each other at the corners. One may start at the Horse Guards in St. James' Park, and go in a north- western direction over green fields for a long distance uutii at the farther end of Hyde Park. We have often walked in Hyde Park, and yet were never fond of it in the afternoon of the " season," for then there is always such a blaze of fashion there, as to make it unpleasant THE PARKS. 33 to any one whose object in coming, is to get fresh air and exercise. One frosty morning, when the renowned Crystal Palace was being buiit, with a friend, we arose early to give it a visit, well knowing that at that hour of the day, as well as season of tbe year, — the fashionables being in the country — we were secure from any crowd of people. We entered Piccadilly — a street which contains some of the finest residences in the world, and which at the same time is one of the noisiest and busiest thoroughfares in Jjondon. On Park Lane corner, we hesitated a moment^ to gaze at the residence of Mr. Abbott Lawrenc), our Minister at the Court of St. James. The building is a rich and substantial affair and must rent enor- mously in that quarter, but happily Mr. Lawrence has money enough aside from his salary to support himself in almost any style of grandeur. We believe Americans find no fault with his hospitality — those Americans who are in London. The only time we ever entered his superb mansion, we were on business, to get a passport viso&d for the Continent. We, with the friend with us, were treated with great politeness. In fact all the officers of the American Embassy in London are in good repute. There are many who yet speak of Mr. Ban- croft, our former Minister at London, in terms of great respect and praise. The American Consul in London — who has, we believe, held his post for a long time— is worthy of all praise. So far as our own expei 'ence goes, and it tallies exactly with that of many other Americans we have seen, he is invariably kind and attentive to Americans, and we doubt whether we have a more faithful officer in any other part of the world. Leaving Park Lane corner behind, we soon came in sight of the grand arched entrance to the Park, on the right, and stopping first, a few moments to gaze at an enormous statue of the Duke of Welhngton, which stands on the left, we passed under the archway into the Park. ''* 3 34 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. After entering, we stopped again to gaze at the residence of the Duke of Wellington, which stands on a corner of the Park and Piccadilly. Yes, we were in the front of the famous Apsley Hous?, the home of " the hero of a hundred fights I" In front of his drawing-room windows, stands the great monument in memory of his deeds — he can never look out of his windows without seeing it, and were he so modest as to ever forget them, that would be no gentle reminder of his military greatness. " But look at those western windows I" said our friend, pointing at all the windows which fronted the Park. '• Yes !" we replied, " iron shutters are over every one, and that reminds us of a portion of the Duke of Wellington's character." "How?" " Why, in the times of the great Reform Bill Agitation, years ago, this ' Iron Duke,' whom the people had worshipped so abjectly, bitterly opposed them, and stood sword in hand in defence of the most outrageous frauds. He was ready to shed his blood in defence of the iniquitous rotten borough system, and even went so far as to offer to march an arniy to Birmingham and shoot down the crowds of people, who were justly dissatisfied with the gross oppression of the aristocracy. And he would perhaps have done it, had he not upon sound- ing his officers, discovered the frightful fact to him, that in such a civil warfare, they could not be depended on ! He was then in power as Prime Minister, and the people wanted him to resign and make way for liberal principles, but he would not. It was then that in their anger, they gathered in mobs about his residence, and broke in pieces these western windows, which he had ironed up as they now remain. However, the iron-willed soldier was broken down by the spirit of the nation, and at midnight of a memorable day^ resigned his power into the hands of the sovereign," THE PARKS. 85 But now the spacious Park lay spread out before our eyes with its acres of green turf, and its lofty trees, with gracetul branches. All winter long, the grass in the English Parks looks verdant ; either because the frosts are not sufficiently powerful to wither it, or because frost does not affect English grass as it does that in America, It seemed like a country view, if only Piccadilly and Knightsbridge could have been shut cut from the scene. The Serpentine Kiver looked beautiful ill the morning's sun, stretching gracefully away into Kensing- ton Grardens. We walked down to the edge of the sheet of water, and found a thin coating of ice already formed on a portion of it. When it is frozen sufficiently thick to bear the weight of men, the sight on a frosty morning is a stirring one, for the whole area of ice will then be covered with skaters, young and old. Some of course will understand the art, and will glide gracefully away with the swiftness of a bird, here and there, making circles and elliptical figures in profusion. But the majority will be either beginners, or awkward per- formers, and the figures which they cut are ludicrous enough — only equalled by the performances of Mr. Samuel Pickwick on Mr. Wardle's ice-pond I Himdreds are gathered to enjoy the sport on the banks of the stream, who shout and laugh at the sudden descent of some unlucky amateur upon the hard ice, while those who are ex- pert, win plaudits from fine gentlemen and beautiful ladies. Upon the river, or its bank, scattered near the most dangerous places, are the men in the employ of the Eoyal Humane Society, as well as some of the metropolitan police, ready for any accident ; and not a season passes away during which several are not rescued from a death in the Serpentine. They stand ready with their instruments, their hooks and ropes, and other contrivances for rescuing those who may chance to be too venturesome and break through the ice, so that every one is willing to run risks, he is so sure of being saved. Sometimes ' 'i WHAT I SAW IN LOXDOX. there are weeks together when there is skating on the Ser< pontine, but that is a rare thing. A few days of ice- weather is almost always folio v/ed by mild weather, which melts away the ice and spoils the excellent sport in which the boys and men join. Passing along one of the avenues for carriages, we soon came in sight of the Cr3^stal Palace, or building of the Great Exhibition. It was not finished, but the structure was so far completed as to give to us an idea of its wonderful beauty. It lay away to the south-western extremity of the Park, and showed well from almost any quarter save the thoroughfare in front of it, which wa& too near for a good view. The workmen were all over it, and around it, like bees in a hive, making the air hum with their industrious noise. It was the song of labor — not so sweet perhaps as Jenny Lind's thriUing notes, and yet of far more im[)ortance. What but labor could construct such a palace of glass, to be the wonder and delight of the nations ? What but labor could have exhibited such a sight as the World's Fair ? While we stood looking upon the wonderful sight, and lis- tening to the music of the workmen's hammers, two young ladies stopped not far from us to gaze also at the fairy struc» ture. They were neatly attired, and had evidently come out in despite of fashion for an early walk before breakfast, for the sake of health. One of them had dark hair, which swept back across her argent neck in curls, while her eyes were like diamonds. The other had cheeks which might ival the most delicate rose, the crimson and m.arble were so exquisitely intermixed. " Here," said our friend, " are two ladies who dare to laugh at Fashion, for if they were her devotees they would not be here at this day or hour I" Yet they were very beautiful, and probably wealthy, and a health was theirs, which the women of fashion never know. THE PARKS. dl What a luxury it is to meet in society a woman of beauty and perhaps rank, and especially intellect, who acts the pure woman out in daily life, never curbing in her sweet benevo- lence to suit the cold dictates of fashion-mongers; never re- fusing to pluck flowers while the dew is on them, because the rich-vulgar say that the night was made for those who have money and rank, and the day for the poor who must work ! But the fair couple soon tripped away, leaving us to moral- ize as we pleased on women and fashion, and rank and labor. It was in Hyde Park, if we recollect aright, that Sir Robert Peel met with the accident which resulted in his death. E-iding up one of the avenues his horse became frightened, threw him to the ground, and fell upon him with so much force that he was fatally wounded, and in a few hours the man who was the glory of the British nation, and who a short time before was in the full vigor of manhood, lay a cold corpse, and the nation was in tears. It was a sudden and awful stroke, and the nation trembled. It was in this Park, too, that many years ago, Oliver Crom- well met with an accident which came near proving fatal to his life. Riding over these grounds one day, he took a iancy to drive his carriage, and so mounted the driver's seat, and grasped the reins. But he was awkward at the business of driving horses, or the steeds were not aware that it was great Oliver P. who guided them, for they ran and overturned the carriage. Cromwell was thrown out, and the loaded pistol which he invariably wore about his person went off', tho charge escaping his body only by a hair's breadth. Bui we have spoken of this Park as the park of fashion and must say something of its appearance when it is in alJ its peculiar glory. That is in May and June, on any pleas- ant day after one o'clock. It is the height of vulgarity to appear in it much before that hour, but after — -what a blaze 38 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. of fashion ! Then all the various avenues are crowded with brilliant equipages, horsemen and gentlemen on foot. Thou- sands are gathered there upon this spot ; the carriages full of gpJendidly- attired ladies, who are continually nodding (how very slightly !) their heads to this person and that, while the lioTses slowly pace up one pathway and down another. Yon- der you see the carriage of the Field Marshal, Duke of VVel- Imgtoii, and in it sits an old man with white hairs, and a back bent with age, and a nose never- to be mistaken — the Homan nose of the hero of Waterloo I There perhaps you see, upon a prancing steed, the black-haired and brilliant- eyed D'Israeli, bowing to this Duchess or that Honorable Mrs. Somebody. There goes the Countess of Jersey, prouder in her mien than the Q,ueen herself — and close following after, in chaste carriage, that sweet poetess, the beautiful " Undying One," the Honorable Mrs, Norton. Crowd surges after crowd as wave follows wave out in the ocean, made up of wealth, and rank, and intellect. In Hyde Park many a love-affair has been nursed, and many an intrigue carried on. You see that fair young man, perhaps modestly on foot among these crowds, how earnestly he looks for one carriage, and Avhen at last he spies it coming straight up towards him in the distance, how nervous he looks — and now that it is against him, takes off his hat to that fair young girl in it, who crimsons to her forehead as she, watching carefully that no one sees her, drops her white kid glove to him ! Alas for her ; — 'tis a case of secret love, and the chances are ten to one that some match-making mamma will break her young heart. But all intrigues carried on here are not so pure and innocent as this. Many is the home which has bijen made wretched by soft whispers uttered here, many the seduction coolly carried on from day to day until the ruin was complete, of some creature whom God had once fashioned pure and beautiful. THE PARKS. 39 Sunday is said tG be the day when the Park is fullest- then there are sometimes 30,000 or 40,000 people in it. VICTORIA PAEK. But from looking at the Park of fashion let us turn to tha Victoria Park. We visited it one Sunday afternoon, because nothing is to be seen in it save on Sundays, when the labor- ng population is not at work. This park is emphatically the park of the poor. No fashion enters it ; wealth and so-styled respectability shun it. It is situated north-east of London, and immediately adjoins Bethnal Green and Spitalfields, those great rendezvous for the wretched, vile, and suffer- ing. It is miles east of that great airing-place of the aris- tocracy, Hyde Park, and has no fellowship with any of the other parks. It is kicked out of their society for its want of name, ancient associations, and its poverty. Yet, though the grounds are new and not all laid out, it i;. a beautiful park. Its entrance-gate is, though not costly, in good taste, and the first department is laid out very grace- fully. There are miniature lakes in it, full of swans and other aquatic birds. A beautiful island is formed by one of them, and upon it there is an elegant and fairy-like structure in the Chinese style of architecture, which is, in the proper season, almost buried among a profusion of flowers and shrubs and plants. The open fields are kept beautifully green, the walks are well gravelled, and it is one of the healthiest spotr within ten or fifteen miles of London, in any direction. The proximity of Bethnal Green is aprt to subtract from the pleasure of visiting it, but in a few minutes' walk, if you choose, you can leave all London out of sight. It was one Sunday afternoon when we started out to see Victoria Park in all its glory — ^^dth the people it was intend- ed for, in it. Our walk lay through a portion of Spitalfields 40 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON and Bethnal Green, and was not pleasant. The streets wftfQ crowded with a filthy set of vagabonds — very likely so be- cause they were unable to obtain work — and the shops were at least half of them open ; the gin-shops especially appear- ing to be driving a heavy business. Some of the streets through which we walked were very low and dirty, and sometimes it was with difficulty that we faced our Avay through them, the odors that greeted us at every step were so nauseating. After a long walk we came to BethnaF Green, where there is a good-looking church and a pleasant green, though the houses and streets in the vicinity are all of the poorest kind, or pretty much so. In a few minutes the Park was in sight. Immediately in front of the Park-gate there are two or three acres of open land, unenclosed, upon which the people gather for any kind of meetings, and we could already see several different crowds or assemblages. The people were the workmen of London, that we could see plainly enough by their brawny arms, work-worn hands, and care-worn faces. The mechan- ics of London, to our eye, are a sad-looking set of men. They are not like the English farmers with their red cheeks and lasty voices ; not like the.race of English squires fatted upon roast-beef and plum-pudding, but are either beer- bloated and sodden-eyed, or pale and care-worn. We stopped before one of the crowds of people to see what was the subject of excitement. There were two or three hundred men gathered around a little hillock, upon which a pale young man stood delivering a sort of political speech. Said he, in earnest tones, as we approached : " Yes I hypocrite Lord Ashley has established a reading- room for working-men ! A reading-room for the working- men of London I And what do you suppose this philan- thropic nobleman gives us to read ? Why I the only paper THE PARKS. 41 whici we can find there is the bloody Times I That pa* per which calls the noble Mazzini a scoundrel, which eu- logizes batcher Haynau, which is paid for its advocacy of despotism by Austria — that is the paper which, my Lord Asliley dares to offer us to read ! He and the proprietors of that paper pretend to love us, and yet refuse to give ns our God-given rights I Call themselves our friends, and still tax us till we bleed at every pore, and refuse to let us vote I" There was a rough eloquence in tho words of the speaker, and the crowd that gathered about him seemed to feel all that the rude orator felt, and to despise the Times and the aristocracy. We watched their faces carefully to get some indications of the spirit within, and saw clearly by the com- pressed lips and clenched fists that they felt keenly the des- potic conduct of the English nobles. We passed on to another collection of people, and there ''Universal Suffrage" was the theme of the speaker. He told his hearers how that in England only one in every six of male adults can vote, while all are taxed alike, and de- ta'led some of the abominations which are practised under the "glorious constitution of old England." Going on a little further, we found a smaller group gath- ered about an honest Scotchman, who with an open Bible in his hand, was warning his hearers to " flee from the wrath to come." His voice was raised to its highest pitch, and his body kept swaying to and fro in a most ludicrous manner, and we found it impossible to resist a quiet smile. Yet we honored the pious old man for coming to such a place and sowing the good seed, though upon such a barren soil. Every momxcnt his audience grew smaller, until at last only two or three were left, and the preacher closed up his Bible as if in despair. It is a sad thing, but there are frightful masses of people i2 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. in London, who know little and care less for the Bible or re- ligion, and what is sadder still, we fear the English churchea are in a manner to blame for it. These hard-working men have got to think that a religious man is an aristocrat, that a churchman is one who debars them from their political rights. The State-church they think lives upon what is not its own ; its bishops upon immense salaries wrung from the people vA'iile they are starving. They see the well-dressed religion- ists in their coaches before the churches, and imagine that the Bible upholds oppression and fraud, and in their anger they cast it beneath their feet. Mistaken men ! — and yet as such to be pitied as condemned. It is a startling fact, and one which no proper judge can deny, that infidelity is in creasing in London among the working classes, and it is our belief that for this infidelity those persons who are practical infidels, though professional Christians, must to a g/eat de- gree be held responsible. These poor men feel that their rights are defrauded from them, and no amount of argument will convince them that their defrauders are good men. It is too much to expect that the oppressed will judge their op- pressors with liberality. Victoria Park is every pleasant Sunday the scene of gath- erings for almost blasphemous purposes. The language of some of the speakers is many times fearfully wicked, but it indicates to the careful observer the religious condition of the poorest classes of the metropolis. Upon the very spot v/here we lingered to listen to the pious Scotchman, Bishop Bonner once lived, and some of the trees are now standing which used to flourish in his garden. Turning in at the Entrance-gate, we were among a better class than those who congregated on the open common out- side of it. There were many men, women, and children wandering over the grounds, but almost all, if not quite, were of the humblest classes. There was but a sprinkling of wo- THE PARKS. 48 men, as the women of the wretched classes are, if anything-, worse in their tastes than the men. Drunken women are as common, or nearly so, in London, as drunken men. At the entrance of the eastern park — for a highway divides the park in two — there is a pretty porter's cottage, or lodge, where we saw all manner of intoxicating liquors, and also edibles. The eastern park is much larger than the western, but is not so well cultivated, or so tastefully laid out and decorated. It is much like any public common, and yet we liked ram- bling over it better than over its more civilized neighbor, for its wildness savored more of the country, and the breezes seemed freer as they swept over it. CHAPTER III. PLACES AND SIGHTS. CHE-IST-CHUPuCH HOSPITAL. Walkiig one day towards Holborn, we came in sight, suddenly, of Christ-church Hospital and its droves of bluecote boys We stopped before the great yard in front of the build- ing, leaning against the iron railing which separated the spa- cious yard and the boys from the noisy street, and looked in iipon the young children. They were all out at play in their long, blue " cotes," or rather gowns, and all were bareheaded. We believe they are not allowed caps, for we never yet saw one of them, whether at the hospital or threading the streets in all v/eathers, with any covering upon the head. Their gown, or " cote," as it is called, is of blue, under which is a yellow skirt. Their legs are dressed like those of an old squire clinging to the customs of an age long since gone to 'L)blivion. Perhaps fifty of the boys were in the yard at play. Those who raced and leaped rolled up their gowns in a pecu- liar manner, so as to have their nether limbs free from in iumbrance, preaching a silent sermon in favor of Bloomer- tsm at the same time. Some played at ball, others at the aid game of " bye," while others still stood listlessly around, gazing at the active ones. The sight of these boys brought our school-days vividly to mind, and while gazing at thenr we lived them over ajrain. PLACPJS AND SIGEITS. 46 We remembered that gentle Elia, quaint but tender- hearted Charles Lamb, once played in the yard before us, and frolicked like the boys we were now gazing at. Here was the spot where he was educated, and which he has so quaintly described in his sketches of his school-day life. Does not the reader remember where he tells about one poor " blue- cote boy," who was noticed to conceal at diimer slight por- tions of meat ; how for this he was watched and dogged by his fellows, as if he were "ripe for Newgate, or the galJows ; and at last it became evident that he tvas a thief; that the bits of meat which he saved at dinner (irom his own plate) were certainly carried every day away from the school, the Hospital, or its precincts, and disposed of in some strange and unaccountable manner ? And how at last when the poor boy was looked upon as a little monster, it all came out : that out of his own dinner he had saved enough to keep a dear father and mother from starvation, suffering hunger him- self, to help them in their dreadful poverty- — and how the noble, noble boy received instead of a reprimand, a reward for his generous, and even heroic conduct ? While we stood there, Elia's simple but pathetic story came fresh into mind, and we could" not help looking upon the play-ground with a deeper interest because of it. Lamb never complained of the treatment he received w^hile at Christ-church, and always held his old teachers in great es- teem. And a kind teacher is always loved in after years by those to whom he has shown affection. There are few who are grown to manhood who do not cherish some of the warm- est feelings for some kind old instructor, or it may be village schoolmaster, who wasted his life in preparing the young to enjoy the world. But if a kind teacher is never forgotten, it is quite as" true that a cruel one is always remembered. A child forgets a single wrong which is counterbalanced by kind- ness, but never continued cruelty. If ever he meets the cruel 46 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON". master in after life, he looks upon him with a shuddering di« gust. Coleridge was educated here — he who sang so sublimely of " Sovran Blanc," before his eyes had rested upon it — and here used to laugh and play in his young days. But some- how he did not fare so well as Lamb, for he says he used to go to sleep so hungry sometimes, that he would dream all night of revelling among cakes and pies, and the choicest dainties ; and that whenever in the day-time he passed the shops where tempting edibles were exhibited in the windows he so longed for them, that it was a pain to go past them I It was while he was at school here, that he caught a rheu- matism which lasted him for life. Upon a holiday he, with some of his fellows, wandered up upon the banks of the New E-iver. Accepting some foolish challenge, Coleridge plunged into the stream, or pond, and in his clothes swam across it. He remained in his wet clothes all day at play, and never re- covered from the effects of his folly. But while we stood leaning against the iron fence, the boys suddenly left the play-ground, and entered the school room. In a minute the yard, v/hich looked so pleasant and so full of life just before, wore an air of sombre sadness. There was a gloom over the spot which never deigns to visit the green play-grounds in the country. We looked at the Hospital. It is a fine-looking structure — with gray and venerable walls, and a spire and turrets which are graceful without any com- promise of dignity. It was erected as a hospital for 2^oor boys. This was the intention of its originator, who gave the funds which support it, and yet in a strictly legal manner, the in- tentions of the donor are set aside. Only those boys can enter it now who have friends and considerable money, for it is looked upon as a fine berth for a boy. We forget the amount which is generally paid to secure a situation in it, but it is pnough to keep out all literally pooi' boys. It is a very common PLACES AND SIGHTS. 4^ thing in this world to see in such benevolent institutions the wishes of the founder conripletely overlooked as soon as he is fairly hid from sight in his grave, but there is a peculiar cru- elty in the case of Christ-church Hospital. FIRES. We do not believe, in the matter of fires, that one half the number occur in London, in any given year, that occur in New York, in proportion to the number of buildings in both towns. During two years in London we witnessed only two fires — one an extensive one, and the other only a single build- ing. Nor saw we any alarms of fire, which are such a daily occurrence in our own towns, though some of course occurred. There are no such fire-companies in London as exist in Amer- ica. There are no organizations like those of Philadelphia, New York and Boston, and yet fewer buildings are consumed in the course of a year in proportion to the whole number, than are consumed in Philadelphia, New York or Boston. The city government, we believe, has not anything to do with fire-engines, companies, or fires — nothing whatever. The Insurance Companies take care of the city or town, and every- body feels that it is their business, and they prefer to attcMid to tbeir own business, rather than leave it in the hands of in- dependent companies. But, as some might at first imagine, they do not confine themselves to the houses which they in- sure, but exert themselves as heartily in extinguishing the fire in an uninsured building as in one msured. The reason, which as a matter of course is a selfish oiiC, is obvious enough — a house uninsured, if left to itself, would soon set on fire a half-dozen insured houses, and the result would be a great loss to the Insurance Companies. Several fire-companies unite and provide disciplined bands of firemen, who act as leaders, for the crowd which alwayf 48 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. gathers to see a fire, are made to assist. These bands have their rendezvous at convenient places, and are always ready for any calamity. One of these spots is a singular scene. At all hours of the day and night you will find several splendid tire-engines, well mounted upon strong cars, to which are at- [ ached two or four pov/erful horses. The gates are always open, the horses harnessed, and the lines in the hands of a driver. Besides the driver, there are to each team several firemen, dressed and ready for action, and there they stand, ready in a second's notice to fly to the scene of conflagration. A large number of engines and horses are on hand for use, and several are constantly harnessed and manned for service. There are several depots scattered over the metropolis from which the engines start. The costume of the firemen is fine, the horses are always spirited, and the sight v/hen they are in motion, is one of life and spirit. To insure the quick transmission of news of fires to head- quarters, the policeman who on observing a fire, first gives notice at an engine-station, receives a reward amounting to about $2.50, and still another reward is given to the engine which first appears on the ground. Now suppose that news reaches an engine-station of a fire ; instantly the word of advance is given to the horses, and the car flies with the speed of the wind over the stony streets. Everybody by law must get out of its way, and give it a clear ath, for it is flying on an errand of mercy — to save life and properly. The sight of one of these cars thundering over the pavement is really grand, as the uniform of the firemen is conspicuous, the engines are beautiful, and the horses full of mettle Arrived at the scene of the fire, and at once the hose of the engine is applied to the street-plug — for the water-companiea only obtain charters on condition of giving all the Avatei which is needed for fires, free of cost. A suitable band of PLACES AND SIGHTS. 46 me;n for working the engines is soon gathered from the crowd, by offering twenty-four cents for the first hour, twelve for the next, and so on, besides a feast of bread and cheese and ale, to wind off with. Twenty to thirty men are needed to work each engine, but a iire never yet occurred in London where there was a lack of men for hire on these terms. The trained firemen attend to all the dangerous parts of the service, and the common laborers merely work the engines. The brigade- men, as they are called, wear a compact dress, with a stiff leathern helmet to protect the head, and often make coura- geous and dangerous attacks upon the devouring element. If it is necessary to enter a room full of smoke and flames, a fireman with a smoke-proof dress enters at once to the rescue of the perilled object. The work goes on coolly, but with wonderful dispatch, and when all is over, all parties who have worked adjourn to the nearest public-house to partake of the beforehand-bargain ed-for bread and cheese and ale. There are in London forty or fifty engines managed by the Fire Brigade, and besides these there are two which are al- ways floating on the Thames, which require a hundred men each to be worked effectively, and when in full operation, pour forth a volume of two tons of water, each, per minute I The Fire Brigade belongs to some eighteen or twenty In- surance Companies, and has fifteen or sixteen stations. There are a Superintendent and Captains, and the men are promoted according to their energy and trustworthiness. We need not add that they are paid well, and only those employed who are stout, strong, and full of expertness. Here is one of the great advantages they have over the members of fire-com- panies in American towns who do not make it their business. They aie not generally persons of extraordinary strength, and can never be so skilful as men who make the putting out of fires a profession. The whole cost of the establishment is not great, and the " 4 50 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. Insurance Connpanies can well afibrd to pay large sums ratheJ than dispense with their energy and skill. The men are as ompletely under the control of officers as are soldiers, and A^hen one is commanded lo undertake anything, if it be a work which is full of the most frightful danger, he no more thinks of flinching than the soldier on the battle-field. Centuries ago the business of preventing and extinguishing fires devolved wholly upon the municipal government. The town was divided into four groat quarters by the Corporation, immediately after the great fire, of which the Fire Monument is commemorative, and the regulations which were then is- sued for the safety of London are still preserved among the archives of the city. We will copy one or two, which will awaken a smile on account of the quaintness of their phrase- ology : " Item. That every of the said quarters shall be furnished and provided, at or before the feast of our Lord God next en- suing, of eight hundred leathern buckets, fifty ladders, viz., ten forty-two foot long, ten sixteen foot long, and ten twelve foot long ; as also of so many hand-squii'ts of brass as mil ftirnish two for every parish, four and twenty pick-axe sledges and forty shod-shovels." Another item obliged every Alderman who had passed th« office of shrievality to provide " four and twenty buckets and one hand-squirt of brass," and all those who had be«» sheriffs to provide " twelve buckets and one hand-squirt U brass 1" The amount of property insured in England against fire is astonishingly great. A tax laid upon all insurance-paper proves that more than five hundred millions pounds' worth is insured every year. Some years since the aurora-horealis so completely deceived the London Fire Brigade, that from eleven o'clock at night tiU six in the morning, twelve engines with seventy-five me* PLACES AND SIGHTS. 61 were tearing about, all over the streets, in search of what they thought must be a fire. The Humane Society keeps in several streets a mechanical contrivance by which, in case of fire at night, persons may escape from the bed-chambers in high stories with safety to the pavement below. In some instances this contrivance is simply a ladder on wheels, so that it may easily be moved about ; in other cases it consists of a movable chair, which moves up and down a ladder-frame. A person throws him- self into the chair from his window, and his weight causes it to sink slowly and safely to the ground. Often in night- walks we have noticed these simple contrivances moving about from street to street, but do not know how often they are successful in rescuing life from destruction by fire. MADAME TASSAUD'S. One of the " lions" of London is Madame Tassaud's Exhi- bition of Wax Work in Baker-street. It is both brilliant and fashionable, and is constantly crowded. Its fame is world- wide, but no person who has not visited it with his own eyes, can gain any adequate conception of its completeness, bril liancy and startlingly natural appearance. It is situated in the West End, and was originated by Madame Tassaud, at an expense of more than $300,000. Her personal history is one of singular interest. She was born at Berne in Switzer- hnd, in the year 1760, about two months after the death of her father, and was adopted by her uncle M. Curtius, then a distinguished wax-modeller in Paris. She was singularly fortunate in making the friendship of such men as Lafayette» Mirabeau, Voltaire, and other celebrated men of that age. In 1782 she was employed in the art of modelling by the Prin- cess Elizabeth, sister of Louis XVL, and the palace at Ver- sailles was her home. 52 ■^HAT I SAW IN LONDON. During the awfui reign of terror her patrons were mar derea around her, and she, herself, ran great risks, and wag exposed to the most imminent perils. Her genius was her safeguard, for the State could not spare her services, and the uthorities made her State Modeller. She was obliged to ake casts of many of the heads of her best friends, as well as bitterest enemies. In 1833 she opened in London her present unrivalled ex- ibition of wax-work, which has ever since constantly been receiving accessions. No celebrated character is unrepre- sented there, and although she has expended nearly a half million, yet the returns are enormous. She and her sons (she has died since our first visit to the place), are immensely rich, and are every day accumulating more. The evening is the time .to see the gallery in its glory, for then its myriads of gorgeous gas-lights and chandeliers present an imposing appearance. The first evening on which we visited it, Madame Tassaud was aliv and in good health, for one so much advanced in years. We entered the saloon in Baker-street through a beautiful hall richly adorned with antique casts and modern sculptures, passed up a flight of stairs magnificent with arabesques, artificial flowers and large mirrors, and halted at the entrance-door to deposit our fee of one shilling into the hands of the veritable Madame Tassaud herself, who sat in an arm-chair by the entrance, as motion- less as one of her own wax- figures. It was well worth the shilling to see her. The sight from where we stood was gorgeous beyond de« scription. Five hundred flames of light streamed forth into every nook and recess of the vast apartment, making an in- tense light, which was reflected and re-reflected a thousand times by a perfect wall of mirrors. The room is one hundred feet in length, and fifty in breadth, and its walls are panelled with plated glass, and decorated with draperies and gilt orna^ PLACES AND SIGHTS, 53 ments in the Louis Q^uatorze style. Two large aisles run through the apartment ; upon the four sides of the room are ranged all the single figures and small groups, while the large and complicated ones have a central position. From the entrance door, where we stood, the view was better than any other for gazing upon the whole group, of groups. The blazing light, the figures, and the mass of via- tors, from the height of fashionable circles down to the poor- est of the middle-classes, combined to make it a scene of gaiety and excitement. It seemed as if we had been ushered into the presence of the great dead, for the figures were natural as life. Washington and. Napoleon, Danton and Robespierre were all around us, and Paganini with his violin, and sweet, artless Jenny Lind, without her voice. Splendid ottomans and sofas were ranged along the aisles, at convenient distances for the accommodation of the visitors, and really it was difficult always to distinguish the \«^ax from the live flesh and blood I Over the entrance there was a gallery filled with musi- cians, who discoursed sweet and ancient airs, which added to the enchantment of the scene. As we passed down one ©f the aisles a figure, entitled " The Sleeping Beauty," arrest^ our attention ; a .young girl, beautiful as a poet's vision, "lying down to pleasant dreams," her gentle breast heaving to and fro like life — yet it was only wax. There was Jenny Lind, pure and artless Jenny, with smiles upon her face, a'.id her lips looking so much like singing, with a song behind them ready to burst forth, that we involuntarily hushed oui steps as if to hear! There was Kean in one of his finest characters, Macready, Ellen Tree (now Mrs. Kean), and ail the celebrated actors and actresses in the world. There was Paganini, living, breathing — with his slight fingers grasping the veritable violin upon which he used to play His dark, brilliant, enthusiastic features sent a thrill 54 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. through us while we gazed at him, and it seemed as if we should hear those wondrous fingers once more startle the world with their magical performances upon the old violin. In close proximity stood Napoleon. He had on the same gray overcoat which he wore at Austerlitz and Waterloo. His Emiling face looked down upon us disdainfully, and his hand was upon his sword. An involuntary martial- thrill ran through us as we gazed at his dark, small form, and thought of his victories. The next moment our eyes fell upon the statue of one so noble and even godlike that the tears started to our eyes as we exclaimed, " Look I look ! for there is Wash- ington !" With his mild eyes and gray hair, his noble stal- wart form, he stood forth in remarkable contrast with the little, swarthy, brilliant Napoleon. The one great and good, and with the thanks of millions encircling his republican brow ; — the other great, but intensely selfish and intensely devilish, and with the curses of the millions he crushed be- neath his iron heel screeching in his ears like Pandemonium. " Oliver P.," Carlisle's God, stood facing the gentle-eyed Charles, whom he executed ; and eloquent Edmund Burke confronted the splendid but rapacious Hastings. There was William Cobbett in his plain farmer's dress, and by some unseen agency he kept bowing politely to the visitors. Wax figures were so placed on the borders of the aisle, some prominent and others receding, that it was often cifficult to distinguish the wax from the live figures. A couple of our friends visiting the Gallery one evening, one of them trod upon a gentleman's foot, and of course begged his pardon. His companion laughed, saying, " You are begging pardon from a wax-figure !" Not long after, his companion who had laughed so heartily over his blunder, touched him, saying, " Look at this figure — is it not beautiful ?*' The " figure,'' with a blush and PLACES AKD SIGHTS. 55 smile, turned away ; young men have been known to make love to such " figures I" At the western part of the room there was the " golden chamber," a small apartment for the exhibition of George IV. and his coronation and state robes. Madame Tassaud pur- chased them at a cost of $90,000. Glueen Elizabeth was here, all bedizened with jeM^els, and close at her side Clueen Mary of Scotland — her victim — arrayed in a plain mourning uit. There was Mirabeau, with his great and splendid forehead ; there were Robespierre and Danton, the Girondists. Milton, and Shakspeare, and Spenser, and the " wondrous boy, Chat- terton," had each their niche of honor. One of the finest of the large groups was that of the royal family, Albert and Victoria, and their host of princes and princesses, all modelled to the life. There was one room called " The Room of Horrors," which was too horrible to gaze at. There were the heads of some of the victims of the French Revolution, ail bloody and ghastly. The sight was enough to chill one's blood, and we came away from the apartment with a keen sense of relief. The exhibition as a whole, is probably the best in the world, and will well pay the stranger for an evening's visit. There is to us a pleasure in walking among the great of former ages in this manner, after we have become conversant with their lives through history. There is a pleasure in looking upon Napoleon's old gray coat, and Paganini's violin, and seeing, though but in wax, how they looked dressed like other men, instead of in marble, or steel engravings, or upon 66 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. GUTTA PERCHA FACTORY. We made a visit one day to the " Gutta Percba Company*s Works," and as they are the only company in the United Kingdom holding the original patent, and first imported gutta percha from " over the seas," and as a necessary consequence are at the head of the world in their manufactures, we will give a hasty sketch of what we saw on our visit. The man- ufactory is situated in the northern part of London, near a canal which runs into the interior of the country, and is large and commodious. We were introduced to the manager, who is a man of po- liteness and urbanity (qualities not too common in the business life of London), and sat down in his office for a few moments while he gave out orders for various and distant departments of the large manufactory without leaving his desk, by simply applying his lips to different month-pieces close at hand, the sound being carried through gutta percha tubes to the far- thest corner of the vast building. In a few minutes, we repaired to the cutting department. Here the lumps of gutta percha are sliced into thiit pieces by revolving knives, which cut six hundred slices per minute, propelled by steam. The gutta percha as it is imported from India is not fit for use — the collectors being careless — and it must undergo a process of purification here. The slices, when they drop from the revolving knives, are thin, and have the appearance of old leather. The manager next took us to the boiling and kneading-room. The slices are first put into enormous iron boilers, and boiled till of the consistency of tough dough, when they are thrown into a machine Vv^ith rows of teeth, revolving eight hundred times per minute, and which tear the masses of gutta percha into infinitesimal shreds The shreds are put into cold water, the gutta percha PLACES AND SIGHTS. 57 pure and unalloyed rising to the surface, while the dirt and refuse matter sinks to the hottom. It is then skimmed off, and put into lumps, to which a heat of 200 degrees is applied, and in this state the lumps, while plastic, are put into steam kneading-machines, to work out all the air and water that may exist in the pores of the substance. This process is a very curious and interesting one. After the gutta perch a romes from the kneading-machine, it is by machinery moulded into the thickness of common leather, and is ready for use, or perhaps it is left in lumps, as occasion may require. We next went into the department where soles are made for boots and shoes. The gutta percha was in a plastic state, and while thus the soles are cut and shaped. The shoema,ker, or mender, by applying enough heat, can shape the sole of the shoe, or any one can mend his own boots with slight trouble, by merely applying one side of the sole to a hot fire, "and at once placing it to the bottom of the boot — Avhen cold, it adheres better than if it had been pegged on, and will not only outwear leather, but will entirely keep out the wet. There were many boys in this department, and we ascertained that their wages were about one dollar and a quarter, or a half, per week — they, of course, boarding and lodging them- selves. / We visited the tubing department, and saw the process of manufacturing gutta percha tubes. A very long one was being tried ; it was for a mine, down in the country ; the mouth-piece was to be above ground, from which orders could be given to workmen in the vaults below It was more than lour hundred feet in length, and was well constructed. Here, too, pumps were made, pipes for fire-engines, and all manner of tubes. Here we saw the identical electrical wire, covered w^ith gutta percha, which first connected England with France — the true chain of brotherhood. The manager gave us a piece, as a memento of the great feat of connecting the c* 58 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. English and French shores, though twenty miles of sea intei venes between them. Next we visited the most interesting department of ail- that where the nicer and more delicate articles are con- structed. Here we first saw a beautiful frame, with the bor- ders exhibiting every appearance of the finest carving, and with the inner portions exquisitely gilded. We were sur- prised that plain gutta percha could thus be made to resem- ble the choicest carved or gilded oak, rosewood, or mahogany. And not with the chisel, but merely by pressing the ungainly lumps into a mould, so that once a mould constructed, hun- dreds and thousands of beautiful frames are turned out with out the usual expense of artist-work. And they have a great advantage over wood in the fact that they never can be broken ; dash them to the ground with all your strength, and it will not harm them. The manager took some delicate- looking flower-vases and threw them to the floor with violence ; they bounded back into the air, but were not shivered. Here, too, we saw beautiful works of art — the head of a deer, with the ears falling, like real ears, the horns were slender and nat- ural, but could not be broken. Impressions of faces and busts hung about the walls of the room, or were issuing from the hands of ingenious workmen. Some of the faces were those of distinguished Americans. "We also saw some very clever stereotyping that had been done with gutta percha. There was a beautiful gutta percha life-boat, which though full of water, and without the usual air-huoys, will not sink, gutta percha is so much the lighter than water. There were sou'- wester hats for sailors — capital things.^ as they are impervious to water and the action of salt. With leather it is otherwise, for water saturates it, and salt is its deadliest enemy. There was lining for bonnets, soft and flexible as silk, yet made of gutta percha. What surprised us more was an array of liquid gutta percha in bottles, to PLACES AND SIGHTS. 69 cure wounds and cuts and chilblains ! There were stetho- scopes, and battery-cells, and insulating-stools, speaking-trum- pets, tiller-ropes, &c. &c. Yet the first sample of gutta percha which ever saw Eng- land was sent by Dr. Montgomerie, in 1843. The tree of which it is the sap, was discovered by an Englishman in the forests of Singapore. The tree bears a much-esteemed fruit, the timber is good, a kind of ardent spirits is made from it, a medicine, and the flowers are also used for food. The first year of the discovery only two hundred weight were imported into England, while last year over 30,000 cwt. were entered at the docks. SAINT KATHARINE DOCKS, We received an invitation one morning from a gentleman 3onnected with one of the largest mercantile houses in Lon- don, to visit with him Saint Katharine Docks and Vaults, We were never more surprised in our life — we had formed no adequate idea of the extent of the vaults and docks — of the immense quantities of wines and merchandise lying in the docks. It will be • remembered that this is only one of several docks, the London and West India docks being much larger. We started out from our home about nine o'clock in the morning, found the celebrated Aldgate Pump in our way, and had an exceedingly fine view of the Tower, and a party of soldiers who were being drilled inside the walls. Turning in at a little gate which was guarded by officers we entered the docks, and then passed into a little room, where our friend piocured orders for us to descend into the vaults. We first visited the wine-vaults, A and B, as they are designated. We descended several stone steps into what looked like a dark cellar, and here in a little outer-room 30 WHAT I SAW IN LOIS'DON, lamps attached to long sticks were given to each of U3, and a conductor accompanied ns over the vaults. The outside walk of one of the vaults is a mile in length, and it rnns un- derneath a city of houses and streets. We could hear the carriages and carts over our heads, dimly sounding like low and distant thunder. The wine-casks v/ere piled one above another to the wall overhead, and little aisles were made running away across the vaults, so that they could he easily trcxversed. A kind of sawdust filled up the walks, &o that the path was soft to the feet. The fragrance of the place was really delicious — the air seemed loaded with a scent of grapes. Our friend remarked that the firm he was connected with had at that time in these vaults $250,000 worth of wines — Oporto, Sherry, and Madeira, He ordered the conductor to tap several casks to ghov/ the quality of the wine, as is the custom when trying to sell to customera. This is the way a majority of the w'mes are sold. As soon as they are imported the merchant stores them in the vaults, and sells them there : we allude to the wholesale dealers, for in England a retail dealer in anything is not called a merchant. This gives rise to a great practice of giving orders to taste wine in the docks. Many a party of gay persons gets orders without the slightest intention of purchasing any wines. And many ladies of standing visi* the vaults, and, however strange it may appear to Americans, yet it is true that often ladies of wealth and respectability come av/ay from them tipsy. The conductor assured us that it ivas a co'mmon thing for ladies to leave the vaults in a state of inebriation, and that they must be from the re- spectable circles of society or they never could have secured the written orders from the importing merchants. An Amer- ican Captain, who is a friend of ours, was once the witness in his own cabin of the drunken pranks of a party of ladies and gentlemen, v/ho having made a tour of the vaults, PLACES AND SIGHTS. 61 finished the visit b)^ coming on board his ship. They came to the docks in their fine carnages, but were so inebriated in his cabin, as to conduct themselves in the most vulgar manner An immense quantity of wine is lost by leakage and drink- age every year from the vaults, as every one would imagine who has seen the casks tapped for tasters. We noticed some of the different marks on the casks of our friend's port wine — - guch as " Old Duke," " Vintage 1834," "Particular," "Ex- tra Particular," &c. It seems to us that the effect of tasting wines upon ladies who visit the vaults, was not such gene- rally as to make them "particular," much less " extra particu- lar," in their conduct afterward. After visiting two vaults we went to the engine-works, which are used to pump water into the docks at low water. The M^orks are immense in size and power — the fly-wheels are 225 feet in diameter, and weigh each ten tons. The cy- linder is so large that a man can stand up straight inside of it. By this machine one hundred tons of water jper minute can be pump-^d into the docks ; or 35,000 gallons. The bottlmg department is where the wine is put in bottles for those who wish to purchase it so, rather than in casks. The mixing department is where liquors of different strengths are mixed — brandies for instance — the result being an article of different quality and a certain measured strength.^ We saw in the tobacco warehouses enormous quantities of the yellow weed. The overseer remarked, that the day be- fore, a manufacturer in Fleet-street paid $15,000 in dutiea on tobacco for cigars. It is a difficult thing to get a really good cigar in London — those that are really foreign, and of the first quality, sell high. We were much pleased with the indigo warehouses, and especially with the one devoted to dye gnms, and so forth. The overseer gave us a bit of incense- gum, used mostly in cathedrals, and which sells as high aa $250 the pound. We saw large quantities of guinea-grains, 62 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. the main use of which is to make strong gin ! Almost all gin is drugged with it, and it must be a consolation to the gin-drinker to know that guinea-grains and water is in reality the stuff of w^iich his "gin" is^made. So in the matter of " port wine," the drinker may feel glad to know that faj more "port" is drank every year in England, than is annu ally made at Oporto I Logwood is a fine ingredient, it is said in manufacturing home-made " port" — grapes are scaroel* necsssary. CHAPTER IV. PICTURES OF MEN. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. There are few people in America who have not heard of that erratic jet extraordinary genius, George Cruikshank. It is many years since he struck out in a new path, and the result is that he has won for himself a brilliant fame. There have been a thousand followers at his heels, and some of them have attained great eminence as artists, though not one of all of them has equalled the master. He is without any doubt the drollest, most intensely comical, of all artists, and still is sometimes very beautiful and pathetic. In a single group of his, you will find abundant cause for laughter and tears. While he shakes your sides with laugh- ter at some humorous conception, he makes you weep over some young face that has such a gentle, heart-broken sorrow upon it, that you cannot help it. Every face and figure in his sketches is alive and endowed with the faculties of life. Misery has her own sad features ; Fun and Humor are full of their pranks ; while Vice looks more hideous than Death, Mr. Cruikshank is one of the most popular men and artists in England, and everywhere he goes he is sure to be greeted with shouts and cheering. One reason for this is, that he is known to be a real friend to the people. A great many ar- tists have no opmions whatever, upon any subject disconnected C4 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. with their art. But George Cruikshank is a man as well as artist. A few years since he joined the friends of Temperance, and it is almost impossible in America to appreciate the sacrifice consequent upon such an act in England. For a distinguished person in good society in London to swear off from wine, is an act which requires a great deal of moral courage, though there be an entire absence of a liking for the beverage. You meet it everywhere at rich men's tables, and are expected, as a matter of course, to drink with the ladies. But Cruikshank signed the pledge, and kept it strictly. The fact was that he was in danger of ruin, and the pledge wa.s his salvation. Men of genius always are, when the wine-cup is fashionable, above all other men. The love of excitement in such is a powerful passion, and " the ruby wine" is often their deadliest bane. It would be needless to point out in- stances where the loftiest have fallen. Douglas Jerrold, the witty, yet sometimes deeply pathetic writer, is making a sad wreck of himself through the extravagant use of intoxicating hquors. Mr. Cruikshank often makes his appearance in public at temperance meetings. He has been at Exeter Hall and Drury Lane. However, he is not an orator, but he is so dis- tniguished as an artist, that his presence is counted as a grea,t favor. A public meeting never goes off in London with eclai unless several distinguished men are present. Earls, Dukes, and Lords, though noodles in point of intellect, make an im- jiression on the public through their titles ! George Cruikshank was born in London, of Scotch parents, and within the sound of " Bow Bells" we suppose, for he calls himself a " cockney." His father possessed quite a genius for etching, and his oldest brother E-obert was for a time asso- ciated with him, his name frequently accompanying that of George in the illustration of various works ; but the genius of the latter soon raised him above father and brother. PICTURES OF MEN. 65 He commenced etching while quite j'oung, and studied snaracters in low life along the banks of the river Thames. He could never have risen to so high a position as he haa done, had he not studied life in London in all its phases and aspects. He is as perfectly acquainted with the etiquette of the lowest tap-room as the choices^ drawnig-room. 'Not a character of note, whether in low life or high, has escaped his eagle eye ; and the result of this watchfulness, this tendency to observe, is apparent in all his sketches. It Vi'as liis series of etchings entitled " Mornings at Bow-street," and " Life in London," which first attracted the attention of London and England. Shortly after this he illustrated the political squibs of the celebrated William Hone, and these added to his fame. Mr. Hone was then a noted infidel, bat afterwards under the preaching of the remarkable Thomas Binney, became a sin- cere Christian, We have alluded to one of the causes of Mr. Cruikshank's popularity as being his friendship for the people. He is rad- ical to the core, and such is his devotion to Liberalism, that he haig invariably refused to caricature any man who is a true friend of progress, or to allow his talents to be used in any manner or shape, against the cause of Progress. In this he is like another distinguished artist, Kichard Doyle, a Catholic. When the Anti-Catholic Agitation swept over England, Punch, the journal of wit and humor, with which he was professionally connected, came out so decidedly against Popery, that the faithful Doyle left it to his pecimiary hurt. Protes- tants admired his consistency, while they deplored his religious principles and belief. The acknowledged talent of Gruikshank is such, that he has ten tim.es the employment offered him that he can exe- cute, and sets his own prices. For what once he used to re- ceive five dollars, he now gets fifty. His sense of the ludi- crous is excessively keen — -he has bo superior in I>ondon in 5 \6 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. that faculty. He cannot walk in the streets a half-mile, without picking up some grotesque figure, or face, where ordinary men would have seen nothing worthy of observation. A few years ago he went down to Manchester, to attend a great Anti-Corn Law Meeting, and convulsed the immense audience with laughter, by rising in his own odd way, and telling them that " he had come to Manchester, and attended the meeting that night in a professional manner, and that frora v/hat he had seen, he had no doubt that he should be v/ell paid for his trouble !" A London writer remarking upon him says, that he is the only man he knows who is equal to the class of under-cabmen in London. This class is the most impudent and insulting of any to be found on the face of the earth ; but George Cruik- shank is always ready for them. If they bluster and scold, he imitates them so exactly and thoroughly, that they are glad to let him off without cheating him out of an extra six- pence, as they generally do their customers. Mr. Cruikshank is very eccentric, and from this fact many people think him cross and unmannerly ; but such is not the case. He has a warm heart and a generous hand, but is ex- tremely odd. In person he is well-made ; about the middle height, and has light-colored hair. He has a very expressive face — the" eye is drollery and keenness combined. He has a pale coun- tenance, handsome whiskers, a good but receding forehead, and a good general figure. He always dresses well, very well • — some say foppishly, but it is our opinion that those who say so mistake a rich and flowing style of dress for foppishness. In the main portions of London, if a person dares to patronize a French tailor, he is at once accused of foppishness, while those who cling to the barbarous styles in fashion in London are gentlemen of taste I A portion of the aristocracy are so PICTURES OF MEN. 67 much in France, however, that they imbibe French notions in dress, as well as in some more important matters. The devotion of Mr. Cruikshank to the cause of Tem- perance is noble and disinterested. The Times has deigned to point its thunder at him in a leading article, but he has his revenge in dissecting the Times on the platform at Exeter Hall, and it certainly is not saying too much (poor an orator as the artist is), to say that he does not come out of the fray second best. The friends of Temperance appreciate his labors, and respect his philanthropy equally with his genius. ALFRED TENNYSON. It is a rare thing to meet Alfred Tennyson in London society. Since the publication of his first volume of poems — twenty years ago — he has led a retired life, so much so, that even in literary circles, he has scarcely ever been seen. Possibly to-night, you may find him over a meerschaum at the Howitt's, but where he will be on the morrow a mesmerist could not divine. Up among the Wordsworthian lakes one day ; into a quiet nook in town the next ; but rarely in general society. These at least, were his characteristics be- fore his recent marriage. He has always sought privacy, and it seems half-impudent to attempt to say anything of one who has so studiously kept aloof from London society. His poetry is quite another matter, for that he has given to the world to criticize as it may. No one need be told that the poet loves to wander where :— " On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook, falling through the clov'n ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea." 68 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. The love of country, and country things, is strong and passiona,te in the poet's breast, and his love of the town is faint. But he is often in London. There is an old tavern in the metropolis where Sam John- son, Garrick, Goldsmith, Reynolds, and others used to meet for social purposes. The name of this tavern is " The Cock," and its head- waiter is of tremendous proportions. Tennyson used to like to go there, and take a steak with a friend, and after awhile wrote a poem on it, commencing with the line : " Oh, plump head waiter at the ' Cock.' " One day a friend of ours dropped in at the tavern, and calling the head-waiter to him, drew forth a volume of Ten nyson's poems and forthwith read to him the poem in question. It had a most inflating effect upon the waiter — he was immortalized in Tennysonian verse ! Not long after our friend had the pleasure of dining there in company with the poet, and contrived to whisper to the head-waiter that Tennyson was present. His attentions at once became pom- pous and obsequious, so much so as to excite the laughter of the poet. '-' What can be the matter with the fellow ?" he asked. " It is a penalty you pay for your distinction," was the reply. " Have you forgotten your poem on ' The Cock V Some one has, I dare say, been reading it to him !" Although Tennyson has not been fond of promiscuous society, he has not been averse to spending the long evenings of a London winter, in the society of a few select and dear friends, and these know well how rich a feast it is to listen to his conversation, which, if it be not so profuse as that of Macaulay, is the more to be prized. It seems, sometimes, strange that a poet who could make such exquisite " Orianas," and " Claribels," and " Lillians ;' PICTURES OF MEN. 69 whose great theme has been the sublime passion of love, should wait until almost middle age for marriage. We know ihat it has been more than hinted, that he has been a suiTerer through his afTections, but one could not derive the fact from his poetry. He is not like Byron or Lamartine, and if he chooses, such heart-trials should forever be shrouded in secrecy, " Locksley Hall," is one of his most impassioned, burning poems, and yet it is a simple story, and quite common in this inaterial world of ours. The poet loves a lady — is loved in return — she proves false and marries a mere man of the world. Those who have read the poem, need not be reminded of its beauty, pathos, and passion. But we do not intend a critique on Alfred Tennyson's poetry — our object is merely to say a few things of the jDoet. No one who has ever looked straight into the beautiful eyes of Tennyson, will doubt his being a poet, even if he has never read a line of his poetry, for there is "unwritten poetry" in those eyes. There is a spiritual beauty in them one rarely sees — not merely intellectual, but full of love and mildness. His forehead is large and rather retreating ; his lips have a fulness, which betokens the capacity for powerful passion; his hair is dark, and hangs in rich masses down almost upon his shoulders. The general appearance of his countenance is one of gentle melancholy. It is very plain after you have seen his face, that he has known what it is to suffer. With the melancholy, there is a modesty, as if he shrank from general observation, as he does in fact. In his fme brow, and the expression of his mouth, one gets an idea of his great power as a poet ; and from his eyes flashes the fire of a " fine phrenzy." There are some earnest reformers — and they are really men of intellect — in England who think that Tennyson's poetry is not imbued with the spirit of the age — that in devotion to ^0 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. mere Beauty, he has neglected Truth. That he has not asserted the glory of mere manhood, and has been too wilhng .to agree with the aristocratic and conventional usages and opinions Avhich obtain in England, and which only exalt man according to his ribbons and garters. But certainly in " Clara Vere de Vere/' the poet not only shows little respect for rank, but gives a pungent lesson for the aristocracy to ponder. It is a well-known fact, that personally, he has never relished the cold and heartless conventionalities which break so many hearts in the proud " sea-rock isle." He has shown his inde- pendence, in refusing to mingle heartily in such society, upon such terms as it demanded of him. The critics are generally supercilious in their treatment of a young author, and the more so if he is of great promise. The cause for such superciliousness we cannot give, but it was the case with Alfred Tennyson. His first volume appeared in 1830, and at once the whole pack of critics set up a cry of " Affectation I" " affectation I" and scarcely one of them all, seemed willing to recognize in him a poet. There was one exception which should be mentioned. W. J. Fox, the celebrated " infidel preacher," as he is styled by the orthodox, in an able article at the time, declared that in Alfred Tennyson he saw the germs of a great poet. How true was his prediction I Two years later, a second volume was issued by the poet, and at first it met with a poor reception. He then waited ten year?, before publishing another volume, and by that time the world was ready to give him its praise. He waited patiently, labored faithfully, and received his reward. Let every one thus labor truly and bide his time, for it will surely come. Mr. Tennyson is at last poet-laureate, which many regret, as the ofiice may tend to narrow his ideas of freedom. Such "iiowever need not be the case, though Wordsworth wrote PICTURES OF ME^^ '71 Bome very foolish and abject verses in his capacity of Poet to the Q,neen. It nriight have been as well to have given the honor to Leigh Hunt, vv^ho by nature — of late years— is By coph antic. Of Tennyson's early life and education, W3 can only say — he is the son of a clergyman, and studied at Trinity College at Cambridge. CHARLES DICKENS. Among the literary characters of London, Charles Dickens is quite as well known in America as any, and better than the majority. As a public we have had a strong love and admiration for him as an author and novelist, and a pretty thorough dislike for him as a traveller, or travelling writer. We do not like to have such " a chiel amang us takin' notes !" He is a man of various quahties — full of geniahty, kindness, and humor, and yet not without a certain meanness, as is ap- parent in his " American Notes." Who that has wept over the sorrows of poor " Oliver Twist," or shuddered at the atrocious crimes of the Jew Fagin, and Sykes ; that has followed the fortunes of poor little Nell, until she droops and dies ; that has laughed till his sides ached over Dick Swiveller and his Marchioness, or Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller ; or " made a note of" " "WaFr," in Dombey and Son ; that has felt his heart tremble for the fate of little " Emily," in David Copperfield, will ever forget Charles Dickens — or wish to forget him ? It matters not if he has made serious blunders — we cannot spare his genius ! The " mistake of his lifetime," was the publication of the *' American Notes." Englishmen were disappointed in them, though not chagrined, as we were, as a matter of course. Perhaps we were the more deeply hurt, from the fact that some portions of the book were unpleasantly true. Be that 72 WHAT I SAW irf LONDON. as it may, as a whole, the " jSTotes" were a libel upon Amer ica, and Charles Dickens is sorry for his foolish act. We know that he denies this in the preface to a late edition o! the " JNTotes," but we are nevertheless well satisfied that he would not write such a book again, for any consideration, foi the English people have so high an opinion of us as to doub' all such morose books upon America. However, let the mat ter pass into oblivion, as Charles Dickens himself desires. One never meets Charles Dickens in the streets of London, without a feeling of reverence for his genius, which you can discover in those peculiar eyes of his. Upon his forehead is "the broad mark of intellect, and he is physically well-made. His burly head of hair gives him a continental aspect, not suited to London streets or drawing-rooms. His position as a novelist is universally acknowledged as high — perhaps the highest of any living prose-writer. He is as popular now as ever, though there is not so much excite- ment about him as there was six years ago. He is probably paid higher prices for his novels than any other writer in Eng- land, if not in Europe, possibly excepting Macaulay and La- martine. Yet he is constantly poor, for he has no calculation, no economy. His income is princely, and he might have amassed a pretty fortune, with prudence ; instead of that, he is in debt, and half the time in fear of bailifls. One thing should be spoken in Dickens' praise — his books? have never flattered the English aristocracy — and yet they are favorites among that aristocracy. We have known Americans who objected to his works, that there is not " high life" enough in them ; yet such a man as the Earl of Car- lisle, with the blood of the Howards coursing in his veins, passionately admires his works, and does not ask for descrip- tions of aristocratic life. He has never flattered the nobles of England. His characters are all below aristocratic life- — Dut nobles, nevertheless, have wept over them. PICTURES OF MEN. IS Mt. Dickens has a lovely family ; it is well known that he has risen from humble life to his present distinguished position, though he has known few hardships in comparison with many sons of Literature. The " Household Words," a weekly journal, with which Mr, Dickens has not half so much to do as some people im- agine, has a large circulation, mainly in consequence of his popularity, though it well merits its success. Mr. Home, a distinguished London writer, in a long and able paper upon Mr. Dickens' productions, shows how much poetry there is in his prose. Who does not remember the beautiful paragraph which closes the death of gentle Nell in the " Old Curiosity Shop?" Yet few even thought those words were perfect poetry, only lacking rhyme. Mr. Home, without altering or misplacing a word, divides them thus, and says truly that they equal in profound beauty some of the best passages of Wordsworth : "Oh, it is hard to take to heart The lesson that such deaths will teach But let no man reject it, For it is one that all must learn, And is a mighty, universal Truth, When Death strikes down the innocent and young For every fragile form from which he lets The parting spirit free, A hundred virtues rise In shapes of mercy, charity and love To walk the world and bless it ; Of every tear That sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves. Some good is born, some gentler nature comes." Trul)- this is poetry ! And the man who could write it must have a heart soft and sympathizing, as well as genius. It is a rare thing for a man to possess universal and abiding popularity without good cause, and the secret of Mr. Dickens' 74 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. popularity lies in the homely, natural beauty of his writings. His humor is irresistible, because life-like, and his pathos melts all hearts, because it is true and unaffected. We well recollect when first we read the " Old Curiosity Shop," and how evening after evening we followed, with in- tense interest the old man and little Nell ; how we laughed over Dick Swiveiler, and hated ugly duilp ; how gentle, never-murmuring Nell stole our heart away, and when, after bitter poverty, she died, so young in years, so old in sorrow, how the sad event haunted us with the vividness of a real and present death. To us, the man who wrote that story will ever be a bright genius, and also a man worthy of affec- tion. R. M. MILNES. Richard Monckton Milnes is somewhat known with us as a poet — he is also a Member of ParUament. He, however, makes no pretensions as a statesman or law-maker, his chief merit being that of a sweet rhymer. We have often been charmed by his songs, which are generally exquisitely beau- tiful in measure and in conception. He scarcely ever speaks in the House, but is popular with the " powers that be," gen- erally taking good care to move with the aristocracy. He is not popular with the people, not even as a poet, for his poems oftencr figure in Court Albums, and Books of Beauty, than elsewhere. Still he is a man of ardent sympathies, and though lacking poetic impulse and fire, he is full of delicate song and sentiment, and possesses an acute ear, as well as the power to constru ct rhymes which will satisfy the nicest- critic. When we first visited the House of Commons, Mr. Milnea was pointed out to us, and when we gazed upon his chaste and beautiful brow, and saw the flash of intelligence in hia eye, we saw that he had at least the outward form of genius PICTLKES OF MEN. "75 But in poL'tic capabilities he has been surpassed by men whose names are unknown to the world. How few are there with us who ever heard the name of Charles Tennyson ? Alfred Tennyson the world worships as a poet — but does it know Charles Tennyson ? Such a person there is, in or near London, v/ho has written some of the m.ost beautiful poetry ever published. Several years ago he published a small vol- ume of poetry, in a modest, retiring manner. He is a brother of Alfred Tennyson, and has never published a verse isince when he issued that little volume. The book, now nearly out of print, overflowed wath the most beautiful and touching poetry ; some was chaste and tender as any Keats ever wrote ; some passionate as Byron's ; and not a line was common- place. The critics, even, said Charles Tennyson promised to be a great poet. But the spirit of song had descended with richness and power upon his brother Alfred (so he thought), and he modestly retired from the paths of poetry, that his brother might receive the undivided honors of the world I Is there not something exquisitely touching in such a renounce- ment of all personal ambition in favor of a brother perhaps st'.ll more richly gifted in song ? That first little book of poems, so beautiful and promising, was his last. Here is a sonnet from it, and we know the reader will agree with us in calling it beautiful : "to mart. " I trust thee from my soul, Mary dear But oft-times, when delight has fullest power, Hope treads too lightly for herself to hear, And doubt is ever by until the hour . I trust thee, Mary, but till thou art mine, Up from thy foot unto thy golden hair, let me still misgive thee and repine, Uncommon doubts spring up with blessings rare 1 Thine eyes of purest love give surest sign, J WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. Drooping with fondness, and thy blushes tell A flitting tale of steadiest faith and zeal ; Yet I will doubt — to make success divine ! A tide of summer dreams with gentlest swell "Will bear upon me then, and I shall love most well I" DOUGLAS JERROLD. Mr. Jerrold is a man of literary note in London — is a writer of caustic power, and is better known as a shining wit than a writer of pathos, though in portions of his works there are touches of exquisite tenderness. There is, how- ever, an irony in most of his writings, which is too bitter to be pleasant, and which is, perhaps, one result of achieving a brilliant position in a country where titles are worth more than genius. Mr. Jerrold seems to care little for the criti- cisms of the world, not so much as he should. He is a man of brilUant parts, and it is to be lamented that his personal example should be a dangerous one for his friends to follow. It cannot be concealed that he is wearing out a constitution naturally strong by the use of intoxicating liquors. It is not a strange thing for Douglas Jerrold to be intoxicated. He is a man of remarkable looks, yet you can read dissipation on his countenance, and nowhere has it so sad a look as when it glares out beneath the brow of genius. An English friend vouches for the following anecdote of he witty writer, while in his cups. At a private bachelor dinner-party, while the "red wine" was circulating freely, until the author and his jovial friends had become, to use the fashionable phrase for inebriety, highly exhilarated, it was proposed by one of the party to seize upon a Frenchman present, who was possessed of whis- kers and a moustache of large dimensions, and shave him close and clean. The proposition was seconded by the author of "Mrs. Caudle," and- the ensuing morning the poor French- PICTURES OF MEN. 7*? man awoke from a half delirium to find himself beardless, t( his great chagrin. It is when himself, and free from all intoxicating influen ces, that Jerrold writes his noblest performances — but some of his pages contain internal evidence of being the offspring of a brain diseased by the use of wine. The father of Mr. Jerrold Avas the manager of a country theatre, but Douglas, when eleven years old, went on board a man-of-war as midshipman, where he remained two years, until heartily sick of the life. At thirteen, poor and friend- less, he came to London to make his fortune. He first learned the trade of printing, and after a time began to write minor dramas for the small theatres. He produced his " Hent Day" in 1832, and on the night that it was played, in Drury Lane Theatre, one of the principal actors in it was an old chum of Jerrold's on board the man-of-war — and they had not seen or heard of each other for sixteen years till that night. Li 1836 he published "Men of Character," in three vol- imies, a work of much ability. Then came " Bubbles of the Day," followed by " Cakes and Ale" — both capital pro- ductions. His " Chronicles of Clovernook" are inimitable, and " The Folly of the Sword" is a powerful thrust at wai. There is, however, too much of destructibility in his nature — and his bitter satire does not relish for a long time. CHAPTER V. COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS CUSTOMS. In the streets of London the American is at once struck with the appearance of the dray-horses. They are generally of a Flemish breed, but such enormous creatures we never 5aw in an American town, nor even in Paris. They are uni- versally used for all heavy business in London, and the city- proper is full of them during business hours. Their strength is massive, and their whole appearance one of great solidity and power. They seem to have a natural tendency to obes- ity, for we never saw a poor one. Some of them are as large as three or four common horses, and we once saw one which we presume would have weighed down half a dozen respect- able horses of the common breed. As many as five or six are sometimes attached to one load, but are always harnessed one before the other, and never two abreast. The loads which they draw are enormous, but not beyond their strength. In fact the whole race of horses in London is far superior to those of Paris. Fine carriages and horses are a rare sight in the French capital in comparison with the famous West End of London. Whether the climate of France affects the breed injuriously or not we do not know, but they are much inferior in size and beauty to the horses of London, whether dray, car- riage, or riding horses. COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. YO 111 the matter of carriages, too, the stranger from America is struck with surprise. The family carriages of the aristoc- racy are perhaps the most magniticent of any in the world. Thousands of dollars are often expended on the grand family carriage, and when the family comes to town for the season, from the country, they come hy railway, yet in the family carriage, for it is a peculiar feature to England, that private families ride hy rail in their own carriages, which are lashed safely to platform cars — the price of that kind of travelling being dear, as a matter of course. In this manner they travel quietly and in a secluded man- ner, and when arrived in town, the carriage, which bears the family coat-of-arms, is ready for service, the horses having perhaps arrived in advance. We scarcely ever yet travelled in England by rail, without noticing on every train one (or more), private carriage attached. AVith the single exception of handsome family carriages, England is in the rear of America, in that line of manufac- tures. All other vehicles are at least as heavy again as those used with us. We have often wondered why such unwieldy and enormous things are continued in use in this age of inven- tion. The cabriolets are generally much too heavy for one horse to draw, and the transportation wagons are all tivice as heavy as is necessary, and are constructed with little in- genuity. The omnibuses are tolerably well constructed, and are al- ways, when the road is clear, driven with speed. They hold twelve iu; and the same number outside. On certain routes you can travel six miles for three-pence — six cents, American money. The conductors have a wretched way of abbreviating the names of the places to which they drive, so that a strangei finds it impossible to understand them. We were one evening at a family party where George Catlin, of Indian renown, arrived an hour too late. He had been carried miles out of 80 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. his way by trusting to the voice of an omnibus " cad.'* As an example, we will give the genuine omnibus-pronunciation of " Kingsland," a district adjoining the city. The conduc- tors going there generally sing out " Ins-la !" " Ins-la !" Other names are murdered in a still more atrocious manner by these unmannerly fellows. There is one conductor in London who has amassed quite a property, but rich as he is, he still continues to attend to the six-pences and three-pences of travellers, at the door of his old omnibus. On pleasant days he dresses in a fine blue broadcloth coat, white vest, and spares no expense in any part of his wardrobe. He is looked upon as a natural curiosity. At least one half the days in a year of London weather are wet and rainy, and during ^uch weather the streets are full of mud. We have not the faintest conception of muddy side- walks in American towns. In such weather no man can walk the streets without covering his nether garments with filth, and it might be supposed that it would be utterly im- possible for ladies to walk in such weather. An American town-bred lady would as soon think of swimming up the Thames against tide, as walking far in such ankle-deep mud, but English ladies do it, and with consummate dexterity too. We have often in such weather wondered, how the ladies whom we have met on the side- walks could keep themselves Bo neat and dry, but continued practice has made them ex- pert. You will see scores of fine ladies on such days, as well as on the sunniest, each suspending her garments gracefully with one hand, just above the reach, of the mud, and tripping along on tiptoe wnth admirable skill, or perhaps walking with wooden clogs under her shoes. Some of them will walk milea in this manner, preserving their dresses and skirts in their original purity. The natural fondness of the English women for out-door exercise, will not be curbed in any weather. Those who are very wealthy and in town, will not walk in COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 81 town, but as soon as the season is over, they fly to the country for air and exercise. The town-season in England is not very long, and therefore, instead of staying out q/" London, as many of our fashionable people do, out of American towns, for a few weeks, many of the best families stay in it only a few. Those families not rich enough for country-seats and carriages, do not hesitate to get their exercise 07i foot, ?m^ there are many families with one, two, and even three hundred thousand dol- lars, who do not consider themselves worth enough to keep an establishment of that kind. Men with an income of five or six thousand dollars a year, generally do not keep carriages if residing in London. Some do not wish to keep up an estab- lishment, and others think they cannot afford one. The passenger4rade from one part of London to another, by the pigmy steamers which ply up and down the river Thames, is a peculiar feature of London. Thousands, and tens of thou- sands travel up and down the river by these little boats, be- cause they are cheaper than the omnibuses, and in going by them, one avoids the noise of the streets. You can go from London Bridge, in the city, up to Westminster, near the Houses of Parliament, for a half-penny, penny, or two-pence, according to the line of boats you take, and the distance is more than thiee miles. Or you can go from Chelsea, an up- per suburb of London, down to Thames Tunnel, a distance of eight miles, for three-pence. These boats are very small, and have no comfortable cabins for passengers, and all sit upon deck, no matter what the weather may be. This would not suit the American pubhc, but Englishmen are, though great grumblers, not so luxurious in their tastes as we are — at least in such matters. On pleasant days the ride on the river- boats is delightful and refreshing, after moving amid the hubbub of the streets. These steamers are all worked on the low-pressue principle, and it is low enough to suit anybody, we are sure. A few ^* 6 82 ^VHAT I SAW IN LONDOrs. years since one of the cheap boats burst its boiler, and great was the excitement over England, though, if we recollect aright, only one man was killed. There are half-penny, penny, and two-penny boats con- stantly running between different points, from early in the morning until one o'clock at night. The captains of the boats always stand on the paddle-box, and with one hand make? the signs for the helmsman to follow, and a boy stands perched over the engineer's department, who sings out in a shrill voice the orders of the captain, that the grim officer below, who has the machinery under the control of his lingers, may know when to start, when to stop, and when to reverse the motion of the paddle-wheels. The master of the boat, though perhaps never in his life out of sight of St. Paul's, nevertheless has the air of a man who has braved " the mountain wave,'* and whose " home is on the deep." And he is as weather- beaten as any sea-veteran, for he hardly ever leaves his boat, Londoners do not pronounce many of their words as Ameri- cans do. We are inclined to think that well-bred Englishmen take more pains with their pronunciation, than the same class with us, but if the whole population is taken into account, we are far, very far in advance of England. There is a peculiar pronunciation common to Londoners, and the stranger who has a careful ear, can at once distinguish it from the pronunciation of Manchester or Bristol, and easily from that of an American. There are words used too, which have a very different signification with us, and some which would be called vulgar. Expressions are common in comparatively good society, which would not suit American ears. A wet, disagreeable day is often called by fine ladies, " a nasty day," and when a person is exhausted with a long walk, or any physical exertion, it is common to say, * I am knocked up," a phrase which to a ibreigner has no signification whatever. Why physical COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 83 weariness should be styled " knocked up"-ness, we cannot possibly imagine. The word " guess" has no such signification in England, as is given to it in Yankee-land. However we have high authority for clinging to our use of the word. The old authors used it in the same manner. r Ever since Judge Halliburton, of Nova Scotia, wrote his " Sam Slick," Englishmen have supposed that the dialect of tliat worthy gentleman, is the dialect of pretty much the whole American people. Whenever any journalist wishes to give Jonathan a severe hit, the expressions, " tarnatioit sm.art" or " pretty considerable," are used with terrible effect ! We doubt if there is a people under the sun, that so murders its own language as the English. There are many dialects, even in England. A well-educated man cannot understand the working-people in country parts. Some drop the letter h, where it should be used, Sind vice versa, and others give every letter a wrong sound. Surely it ill becomes any one belong- ing to such a country to iind fault with American pronunciation. CLASSES. There are many classes of people to be met in the streets of London, and occasionally there are faces and figures which it is impossible to forget. There is little man-worship in the business streets — a lord in Cheapside, is no more than a merchant, and nobody stops to inquire whether he be a lord, or tallow chandler. Up at the West End, beyond the pre- cincts of the city-proper, you will find plenty of it, for Trade does not reign supreme there, but Wealth and Blood. There you may see a plenty of fine carriages every day, and lords and splendid ladies, and the people often gaze at them as if awe-struck. Some of the English nobles are intensely proud and will not acknowledge a civility. 64 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. A friend of ours was one day walking in one of the Parks, when the Duke of Wellington chanced to ride past on horse- back. Several English gentlennen, within a few feet of him, pulled off their hats and bowed. The old Duke looked Straight at them, but never touched his hat nor bowed his head in return I Our friend trusted that the sycophants had learned a lesson which would profit them. Hov/ different was his conduct from that of George Washington on such occasions. No man ever bowed to him, however humble in station, without an acknowledgment of the compliment. West of Charing Cross, the carriages in th^ streets are generally elegant, and the horses fine and full of mettle. The people walking in the streets are unlike those down in the city. There is a look of fashion in their garments, a gentility in figure, one does not see in the Cheapside, or Lom- bard-street. There are more idlers here — men hunting after pleasure, instead of poor clerks with pale faces hurrying away on errands, or portly merchants going to, or returning from the Exchange. At the proper time of day, splendid carriages stand before the doors of some of the elegant shops, while the beautiful ladies who came in them are " shopping." Countesses and Duchesses in any quantity are occasionally thus ernployed. The female nobility of England is, without any doubt, the finest in the world. Their beauty is almost unequalled, and their graceful pride only gives to it a wondrous charm. They are far superior as a class to the male nobility, in beauty, and there is no class of merely fashionable women in the world who will bear a comparison with them. They do not disdain to get sufficient physical exercise for health, while in the country, taking long rides and walks and ramblimg over the fields, and riding on horseback while in town. The fashion- able women of America do not look one half so healthy or wholesomely beautiful, for they are too fastidious for out-of-door exercise. But the true type of the American women is COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 85 Bweeter, fairer, more delicately beautiful, than even an English peeress. But if the West End of London can show its proud and beautiful peeress, the East End has its pale factory, or shop- girl, and the sight of some of these is enough to draw tears into any eyes. Imagine a girl of fifteen, with soft blue eyes. once merry perhaps, and a face white as snow, and long, thin, and trembling arms, a slight body and almost tottering steps. See how sad those young eyes are, which at so young an age should only know smiles, but in fact know only tears. The sight is as touching a picture, as any you can look at in any painting-gallery in London. The very poverty of her dress as it is neat, and even graceful, adds to the pathos of the sight. She turns those blue, tearful eyes up at you, as if she thought you of a different race from herself, belonging to another world, for you are well dressed, and have money and a look of pride, while she never knows what it is to sit down to a well -furnished table, or to ride in a carriage, or to ride at all. No, she cannot even walk among the trees and flowers in the country — they are too far away, and she must work all the livelong day, or starve. This sight is not an uncommon one in London, by any means, nor are you obliged always to leave the West End to find it, for there are wan and suffering women right among the proud and noble. We have seen faces in Belgravia which were sad enough to make one weep. We have often met in the streets, an old-fashioned English farmer, and he is a sight to make one's heart grow warm and merry. For his rubicund figure speaks pleasantly, and emphatically too, of all the comforts of an English farm-house. His face is round and merry, and his cheeks rich as rarest port, while his voice, though rough, is honest and manly. Perchance one of his daughters is with him in his cart, and if so, you can see a specimen of the country health of old 86 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. England. Her eyes are full of witcher}^ and her face all smiles, and you know that s/ze has never known career suffer- ing. Contrast her fair merry countenance with the pale anxious face of the tremhling shop-girl I The streets of London are full of such contrasts The old English Squire is another character which one meets, though rarely, in the husy thoroughfares, and we con- fess that he always looks as if out of his place. He alv/ays dresses — if he is of the real old-fashioned class — as English squires dressed two hundred years ago. His face reminds you of ale and port wine, and " the old roast beef of England." His knees shine with silver buckles, and he discards the small clothes of the present age. His horror of anything French amounts to a mania, and a moustache is in his opinion, about as becoming as " a shoe»brush stuck beneath the nose." And though he talks loudly and harshly, with all his stiff toryism, and his utter detestation of all new lights, ideas, and politics, the old Squire has a warm heart beating beneath that old- fashioned wai>tcoat. He is generous to a fault, as you vrould be sure to believe, were you once to sit down to his plenteous table, and live with him awhile at home. He has no business to be seen in London, however— he is not in keeping there. The English merchant is generally a fine-looking man, with an easy countenance, just tinged with wine perhaps. On ' Change' he is not the being that he is at home. Business seems for a time to freeze up his manners and sympathies. In the streets you can tell him by his portly dignified air. Hfi looks different from the American merchant, because possessed of more phlegm. A New York or Boston man of business looks too worn and excited when in the streets, to compare favorably with one of tlie same class in London. The chimney-sweeps are a class that could not well be dispensed v/ith, and they are a singular class, too. Their cries may be heard in every street, early in th? morning, at COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 87 one lies upon his pillow. Their vocation is a bad one, and they deserve better pay than they get. Many of them are mere boys, and we once knew of a case where a lad was sent up a chimney by his bra'al master while it was yet v/arm, and when he came down he was almost smothered, and sc severely burned that he died in a few hours. COSTUME. The day for splendid costume is nearly over in England. The old days, " the brave days of old," are passed away never to return. Perhaps no country in the world has paid more attention to all "the })omp and circumstance" of dress than England, in the centuries that are past. But now even pro- fessional costume is nearly extinct. Black is now the univer- sal color ; it used to be distinctive of the clerical profession, but the innovating age has made it common to all classes, md clergymen have now nothing but the white cravat to dis- tinguish their dress from anybody's else, and that even is worn by many besides clergymen. A man of the world may in the morning put on his dash- ing colors if he please — his flashing vest and pants, but aa soon as evening comes he becomes sober, and a rigid etiquette obliges him to wear a dress of black. But the clergyman Tjannot even vary his color, nor wear moustachee, though he iam dance on certain occasions. The bar, and the army and navy, the police and the beadles, have each their peculiar dress, while on duty. In the street you cannot tell a peer from a shopman by the dress, generally the peer is the plainer dressed of the two. But you can always tell a gentleman by his manners. All nobles are not gentlemen, nor all gentlemen nobles, but a true gentleman will command respect wherever he is, unless it be among a certain portion of fashionable aristocracy. 88 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. There is a peculiar set of people in all countries distingiiisli ed more for their worship of trifles than of genius, intellect, or goodness ; where a gentleman is not always sure of atten- ion — but real gentlemen avoid the society of such. The Court dress, although splendid, has little of the extrav- aganC3 of the courts of Ehzabeth and James I. It is said that the shoes worn hy Sir Walter Ealeigh on levee-days were worth more than thirty thousand dollars, they v/ere so studded with precious stones, and the rest of his attire Wds in a similar style of extravagance. A couple of pounds will now shoe the best peer in England. The artists complain of the penuriousness of the present age. In the old times a painting was worth looking at with its fine drapery and great show of dress ; but now every one is dressed plain and sleek, and all are alike. In a group of figures in a painting it certainly makes some difference in the fjffect whether all are arrayed alike, or difierently. It is said that the finest example of royal costume extant may be seen in the effigy of Edward III. in Westminster Abbey, and his queen, Philippa. The king is arrayed in a long dalmatic, open in front nearly to the thigh, and showing the tunic beneath. The mantle is fastened across the breast by a belt richly jewelled. The queen wears a close-fitting gown, a richly jewelled girdle, and tight sleeves. A wreath is fastened by brooches on the shoulders. Prince Albert and Glueen Victoria were thus attired at the grand " Bal Masque'^ given at Buckingham Palace in the year 1842 The mutations in costume during the last three and four centuries are too frequent to describe. In head-dress at one time lofty periwigs were in fashion ; at another pomatum and powder, a fashion which Pitt knocked to pieces when he invented the Hair Powder Tax. The sex has been guilty of some of the most grotesque Bostumes, and the absurdest of all was the hoop-petticoat, COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 89 which, gave the wearer the appearance of a walking balloon. There are many strange stories as to its invention ; probably It v/as introduced for the accommodation of the ladies of the court, who were of easy virtue — such is the opinion of good, judges. Cia'taiu it is that public sentiment had a good share in driving the fashion out of existence, by accusing those who chuig. to it of bad morals. Stiff stays are out of fashion in a majority of English society, and silks are retreating before the sublime array of satins. The clergy once were guilty of wearing as pompous a cos- tume as the class of courtiers. The Reformation wrought a change, for vestments, emblazoned caps, and rich embroide- ries, were laid aside. The mysticism of religion in the Eng- lish Church is done away. In the olden times chasubles, dalmatics, and tunics, which were originally derived from the same class of articles in kingly attire, were worn by Protes- tant clergy, but were finally rejected by them, and the style of clerical dress became by degrees more refined and severe. English lawyers cling with an inveterate passion to the ancient styles of legal dress and etiquette, though it is now a common thing to see a member of the legal profession wear- ing whiskers, a practice which was not allowed in the olden time, those hairy appendages to the human face being then usually confined to military gentlemen. Boots and shoes are generally made so as to wear longer than ours, but are also higher in price. The extremities are differently shaped from ours, and altogether they are lacking in beauty of shape. An English woman has not the art of dressing so well as a French woman with the same means. She lacks taste. The English children are dressed in the finest manner. Go into the parks on a pleasant summer day, and you will meet with hundreds of the wee things dressed in Scottish hats and feath- er, and with their legs entirely bare. The English children 90 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. are generally robustly healthy, and, generally speaking, more pains are taken with their physical education than with chil- dren in America. There is a general idea in America that clothing is much cheaper in England than here Clothes ot" certain descrip- tions are, but a fashionable coat costs as much in London as New York, and pantaloons more. A West End tailor charges more than a New York tailor, but cheap garments can be j)iirchased, ready made, with less money in England than in America. ENGLISH WOMEN. When we enterea for the first time an English drawing- room, almost our first thought was — " How robust are the English ladies 1" and after much observation we are ready again to repeat the thought. The room contained perhaps a dozen women, from eighteen to fifty years of age, and not one among the number was sallow or faded, much less wrinkled, with age. After walking in the leading promenades of fash- ion and beauty, we found it the same there ; the women were healthy — physically well-educated. A friend, who is an American, chanced to be in the House of Lords when it was prorogued by the Q,ueen in person, and there was present a splendid collection of female nobility — he was astonished to Bee such unmistakable health upon every face. It was the same wherever we went — -in the lecture-room ; in the great hall ; at the concert, the theatre, and the church — the appearance of the vast majority of the women indicated abundant and vigorous health. The cheek was round, and Imed with the rose ; the forehead exuberant ; the eye large and beautiful ; the chest well developed ; and — we confess it — the feet somewnat large I We at first were tempted to denominate the beauty of Eng- iish women as gross, but after thought, could not do so. If COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 91 pure nature be gross, if health be not refined, then certainly we do prefer grossness to refinement. If illness breeds a su perior beauty, then give to us the inferior charms which are the offspring of health I " Comparisons are odious," yet the reader will excuse us if we make a comparison between American and English ivomen of fashion, on the simple point of health and healthy habits. The tastes of the two classes do not seem to agree in this matter. In many of our ^fashionable circles it is not the de- sire of women to be in robust health. If a young lady be languishing, with a snowy cheek just tinged with crimson, if she have a tremulous voice, she may expect to break a score of hearts ! For such a creature to think of walking a mile, would be sheer madness I If she goes out, it is in her softly- cushioned carriage, with servants to wrap her carefully av/ay from the benignant influences out of doors, and the vulgar wind and sunshine have not a stray peep at that exquisite skin of hers. As for the fields and flowers, never in her life have her soft feet danced upon them — yet for hours she has waltzed upon the arm of some handsome young navy-oflicer, in a hot dan- cing-assembly. ]N"ever in her life has she played in the wild- wood with the birds and flowers ; with June skies over her, and a June sun looking into her open, radiant face I Never has she been gloriously flushed with exercise got from chasing after rare flowers and plants ; from climbing to the summits of lofty hills — for this all would have been vulgar I Have we exaggerated the picture ? Here is one of English women of fashion. In England, the highest ladies exercise much in the open air — and as they are healthy iu body, so in mind. Sickly sentimentalism and a " rose-water philanthropy" which ex- pends itself over French romances and artificial flowers, has no lot or portion in their characters. They are noble women ; 92 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. and their children are worthy of them, for they are red cheeked, of stout muscle and nimhle gait, of fine health and appetite. The simple reason is, that English women, as well as children, exercise in the open air. An English woman of refinement thinks nothing of walking half a dozen miles, nothing of riding on horseback twenty, nothing even of leap- ing hedges on the back of a trusty animal ! We remember once being at the home of William and Mary Howitt, before they had left " The Elms," when some one proposed that we should make a little family visit to Ep- ping Forest — distant four or five miles. The thought did not enter our brain that they expected to go on foot. As we crossed the threshold, we looked for the carriage, but the la- dies said we were going a-foot, of course! And so we walked all the way there, and rambled over the beautiful forest. As we walked back, we half expected to see the ladies faint, or drop down exhausted, and when we sat down a moment upon a bit of greensward, we ventured to ask — " Are you not vsry tired ?" The reply was, and accompanied by a m.erry laugh, " To be sure not — I could walk a half-dozen miles yet !" We were once conversing with an English lady eighty years old — the mother of a distinguished author — upon this excellent habit of walking, when she remarked — " When I was a young woman, and in the country, I often walked ten miles to meeting of a Sunday morning I" This was the secret of her mellow old age. The English women love fl.owers, and also to cultivate them, and we know of no more beautiful sight than of a fair, open-browed, rosy-cheeked woman among a garden full of plants and flowers. Talk of your merry creatures in hot drawing-rooms " by the light of a chandelier" — to the marines I Here is beauty fresh from God's hand, and Nature's — here are human flowers and those of Nature blooming together. COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 93 Mrs. Browning, in " Lady Geraldine's Courtship," has a b^autifa picture of an English woman ; — " Thus, her foot upon the new-mown grass — bareheaded, with the flowing- Of the virginal white vesture gathered closely to her throat; With the golden ringlets in her neck, just quickened by her going, And appearing to breathe sun for air, and doubting if to float, " With a branch of dewy maple, which her right hand held above her, And which trembled, a green shadow, in betwixt her and the skies, — A.S she turned her face in going — thus she drew me on to love her, And to study the deep meaning of the smile hid in her eyes." And again : — " And thus, morning after morning, spite of oath, and spite of sorrow Did I follow at her drawing, while the week-days passed along ; Just to feed the swans this noontide, or to see the fawns to-morrow— Or to teach the hill-side echo, some sweet Tuscan in a song. " Aye, and sometimes on the hill-side, while we sat down in the gow- ans. With the forest green behind us, and its shadow cast before ; And the river running under; and across it from the rowens, A brown partridge whirring near us, till we felt the air it bore. " There obedient to her praying, did I read aloud the poems Made by Tuscan flutes." English tourists in America are given to ridiculing the ex- cessive prudery of our women, but we much prefer that deli- cate sense of what is improper which characterizes American women. In this the English women of certain classes are coarser than ours. The Continent is so near that they im- "bibe a certain laxity, not in their morals, but in their modes of expression, dress, and manners, which the best classes of American women would not tolerate. Mrs. Trollope calls them prudes for this, but notwithstanding that, we prefer the 94 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. exquisite puritj of mind and manners to be found among oui women, to the less refined habits of English ladies. There ia a beauty also among the rural women of America, which iij exquisite delicacy is not rivalled in any portion of the world. But in the matter of physical health, we can learn a useful lesson from Eno-land. ^ BURIALS IN LONDON. We beg pardon of the reader for saying a few words upon an unpleasant subject — that of London burials. We shall not give you pleasant pictures of country church-yards, with tall cedars of Lebanon and cypresses, and waving grass over the graves — alas ! no ; there is little of beauty and serenity in London church-yards ! And yet the cemeteries are beautiful, but they are far bo- yond the limits of the town. There is beautiful Highgate Cemetery — Kensal Green Cemetery, and Abney Park — all pleasant and quiet spots. But it is only the privileged ones who are buried in such places, only the rich and powerful. Wealth in London helps a man after death. It can and does lay his aching bones to rest in a quiet spot, it covers over his grave with flowers, and the songs of birds — is not that some- thing ? The wealthy are buried here — where are the poor buried ? Li Paris, city burials were long ago abolished. It is the same in almost all European towns, but it is not so in London. A few years since, the subject was brought before Parliament, and facts were elicited which created great excitement, and which resulted in good, but the practice still continues with some restrictions. We are the more determined to give our readers an insight into this unpleasant subject, as it is of great iinportan ce th at th e inhabitants of A merican cities should , before they become any older, avoid the errors of European cities. We COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 95 are glad that Boston has her lovely Mount Auburn, New York her sweet Greenwood shades, and Philadelphia her Laurel Hill ; and we hope with all our lieart, that in every city in America, cemeteries ivithout the confines of the town may spring up, and that public opinion will prevent any more burials in town. Many times in our walks about London we have noticed the grave-yards attached to the various churches, for in almost every case, they are elevated considerably above the level of the sidewalk, and in some instances, five or six feet above it. The reason was clear enough — it was an accumulation for years of human dust, and that too in the centre of the largest city in the world. We soon made the discovery that the burial business (we beg of the reader not to be shocked", for we tell the unvar- nished truth) was a thieving trade in London, a speculation into which many enter, and a great profit to the proprietors of the city churches, whether State or Dissenting. Upon reading authorities, we were thunderstruck at the state of things only three or four years since, and which are now only slightly improved. Extra cautions were taken during the cholera year, but since, matters have been allowed to take the old and accustomed channels. The facts which we state are but too trite. They Avere sworn to by men to be trusted, before a Committee of tlio House of Commons, appointed by that body to search into this horrible burial trade. St. Martin's Church, measuring 295 feet by 379, in the course of ten years received 14,000 bodies ! St, Mary's, in the region of the Strand, and covering only half an acre, has by fair computation during fifty years received 20,000 bodies Was ever anything heard of more frightful ? But hear this : two men built, as a mere speculation, a Methodist Church in New Kent Road, and in a mammoth vault 96 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. beneath the floor of that church, 40 yards long, 25 wide, and 20 high, 2000 bodies were found, 7iot buried, but piled up in coffins of wood one upon the other. This in all con- science IS horrible enough, but seems quite tolerable in com- parison with another case. A church, called Enon Chapel, was built some twenty years ago, by a ministei', as a speculation, in Clement's Lane in the Strand, close on to that busiest thoroughfare in the world. He opened the npper part for the worship of God, and devoted the lower — separated from the upper merely by a board floor — to the burial of the dead. In this place, 60 feet by 2^ and 6 dee2'), 12,000 bodies, have been interred! It was dangerous to sit in the church ; faintings occurred every day in it, and sicknes=;, and for some distance about it, life was not safe. And yet people not really knowing the .state of things, never thought of laying anything to the vault under the chapel. But perhaps the reader will exercise his arithmetical powers, and say that it would be impossible to bury 12,000 persons in so small a place, within twenty years. He dees not understand the manner in which the speculating parson managed his aiTairs, It came out before the Committee of the House of Commons, that aixty loads of " mingled dirt and human remains" were carted away from the vault at diifer- ill dindy ! Six abeles i' the kirk-yard grow on the north side in a row,— - jyi sloidy I And the shadows of their tops rock across the little slopes Of the grassy graves below. On the south side, and the west, a small river runs in haste,—- Toll slowly! And between the river flowing, and the foir green trees a-growing Do the dead lie at their rest. On the east I sat that day, up against a willow gray— Toll sloidy I Through the rain of willow-branches I could see the low hill-ranges, And the river on its way. There I sat beneath the tree, and the bell tolled solemnly, — Tali slowly! While the trees and river's voices tlowed between the solemn noises- Yet Death seemed more loud to me." Not far from London there are many beautiful suburban villages to which a denizen of the city can easily go. One afternoon ,of May, just at night, with a friend, we started for a little country excursion. Just as we arrived at the wharf, below London Bridge, a crier on board one of the many steam- ers in sight, sung out, " Passengers for Greenwich and below !'' and as we wished to go "' below," we hastily jumped aboard. It was one of the tiniest boats imaginable, and looked hardly capacious enough to carry the passengers on her deck — as for officers, there didn't seem to be many. The captain stood on the Mdieel-houFC, which was about the size of a western cheese- box, and motioned to the man at the wheel, in the stern of the boat, which way to steer. Whenever he gave out an order or warning, which was done in a sublime bass, a little boy shrieked it over in treble to the engineer below. The captain shouted gruffly "■ All aboard !'' the young one exe- cuted his shrill echo — the little paddle-wheels began to turn, and we were shooting off into the centre of the stream. 102 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. There were many passengers on board, and it was not difficult to discover from dress or action their various con- ditions. Some of them were clerks, who, after a- laborious day's work, were going down to Greenwich to sleep, for i ealth's sake ; others were men of capital, going to their ft )lendid homes down the river, where famous dinners wt^re awaiting them ; it was too late for the pleasure-seekers. At every place where our boat touched, some one or more of our pprty deserted the boat — and now our turn was come, tho little steamer touched land for us, we gave up our tickets and landed in a small village in the midst of the glorious country. There was a hill away at the left, and as the sun was only half an hour high, we ran for it. Half our time was lost in gaining its summit, but the view amply repaid us for our trouble. The sunset was inferior every way to hundreds we have seen in America, but the landscape was the loveliest we ever had seen. We were in Surrey, and its soft undulations l^y before us like the swells of the sea. Hamlets, hedges, farm-houses and cottage-homes were' scattered at our feet. The village green was below in full view, and out upon it were boys and girls shouting for very happiness. Hov/ different their voices to the voices of the children in London streets ! Around the farm-houses the quiet cows were gathered, and the milkmaids were at their work. Every field was fringed with a beautiful r i},^e, and every garden bloomed with choice flowers. Their fragrance came up the hill to us on the soft breeze that was playing. There was also some new-mowii hay near us, which sent up its pleasant odor for our enjoyment. The breeze came fitfully, never strong, and often dying away completely ; at such times, with not a leaf trembling, and the full, bright Bun going to rest behind the trees, the scene was a perfect pic- ture of happy peace. No rude noise startled us ; the music of a tiny stream touched our ears pleasantly ; there were no COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 103 harsh London noises ; no dismal sights and noxious scents ; nc whining mendicants or flaunting prostitutes. The sun had now set, but lo I the full moon arose in the east, promising an evening of great beauty. We now descended the hill, and entered a quaint little inn and asked for tea and toast. The little room that we had it in looked out upoa the west, which was all moonlit, and there we sat and talked, and sipped our tea. Once more we were out in the open air, with the moon- light pale and tender falling down upon us, instead of the rays of the sun. We took a path into the fields, though the dew was heavy upon the grass, and wandered away among the trees and out on the hills. We soon came in view of' an old English castle, deserted now, but once inhabited by princes. The influence of the moonlight must have been magical, for we existed for a time in the past ; and from the windows of the castle streamed the light of a thousand lamps, and the sound of dancing reached our ears. There were princes there, and earls ; queens of beauty and grace, with the blood of kings coursing in their veins. As we approached the ruined building, a rabbit leaped out from his hiding-place, and brought our thoughts from the past to the present, and after gazing awhile at the ruins, we passed on to the stream that had tinkled its music so pleasantly in our ears, and sat down n the little bridge v/hich crossed it. And the present seemed more beautiful than the past. Those days so fraught with chivalric deeds were after all bereft of true humanities. Their happiness was a hollow one. The lords and ladies might enjoy the moonlight, but the peasants were chattels. Perhaps a noble earl occasionally ran daring risks for the hand of some fair and titled lady, but he did not hesitate to break the heart of a peasant's only daughter. But the evening was gone, and we ran over the fields to a 104 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. railway station and in a few moments were whirling back to London, to spend the night at an English home. And a true English home is as sweet and beautiful a place as a Mahome- tan conld wish for his paradise ! It exhibits tnat exquisite finish, which is the consequence of culti\ration. When we gpe ik of an English home, we mean a home among the select mid he classes, not among noblemen or working-men, for am' ag the former, there is hoUow-heartedness, and abject devotion to mere conventionalities — a disgusting pride of blood, wealth an^ connections. And were we to describe the homes of the latter — the toiling laborers of England — we should picture broken casements, expiring fires, haggard eountenance&, and young children crying for bread. ENGLISH HOMES. ySit we choose now to describe — • " The 7)urry homes of England !— Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light ! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told, Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old." In the English heart there is a deep love of quiet, ealm enjoyments, and home joys — this is the reason why the English home is so lovable. Unlike the French, they are not suited with an eternal round of festivities, balls, or theatrical amusements. The Frenchman lives continually abroad, and scarcely at all at home. In England the holidays, even in London, have a rural tinge. When the Frenchman would rush to the Boulevards., the more quiet and sedate EngliMh- COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 105 man gathers his children about him, and goes to spend the day at Eppiug Forest, Gravesend, or Kerr Gardens. It would be no jleasnre for him to wander over the fashionable walks of the city, but away from the crowd, in the bosom of his family, he indulges in the height of felicity. AmoDg the middle classes in England, or perhaps we should say the upper-middle, there is no degree of want, but rather profusion of all that can minister to the respectable appetites of mankind. The house, the grounds, the situation and pros- pect are nearly perfect We have seen many Enghsh homes and never for once came away from one without an enthusi astic admiration of the sweet garden in which it pleasantly nestled. Painting ministers to the eye, and music to the ear. In the morning at nine the father sits down cosily with his family to his dry toast and coffee, his morning newspaper and family letters, devouring them all together. The Times with fresh news from all quarters of the world lies open before him, and the " resonant steam eagles" have been flying all night that he may read his letters with his morning meal. He then starts for his counting-house, or his office, and with a luncheon at mid-day satisfies his appetite until the dinner- hour — which is at four, five, or six, as circumstances may be — when he dines with his family around him. Tea is served at seven, a simple but generally a very joyous meal. Supper is ready at nine or ten, of which the childre never partake. A true English home is intelligent, educated, and full of love. All that Painting, Sculpture and Poetry, can do to beautify it, is done, and Music lingers in it as naturally as suiishine in a dell. Those who say the English are not a hospitable, frank, generous people, know nothing of their inner life. A railway ride across from Liverpool to Paris, reveals nothing of the character of the people. It is a part of their system of conventionalities to preserve a cool exterioi E* 106 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. when in the business world. Take these very men at home and the transition is almost miraculous. The knitted brow is smoothed with smiles, and the silent tongue has become voluble with joy. And the influence of the English homes upon the children — is it not visible over the world ? Those eveniiig joys never are forgotten, but in the time of tempta- tion, gather about the heart of youth, like a group of angels, guarduig it from all sin. " By the gathering round the winter hearth, When twilight called unto winter mirth ; By the fairy tale or legend old In that ring of happy faces told ; By the quiet hour when hearts unite In the parting prayer, and kind good-night ; By the smiling eye and loving tone, Over their life has a spell been thrown. It hath brought the wanderer o'er the seas To die on the hills of his own fresh breeze; And back to the gates of his father's hall, It hath led the weeping prodigal." CHRISTMAS. Christmas is the best of the London Holidays, being more universally observed than any other. The last Christmas was our second Christmas in London, and the last was exactly ike the first. The same bustle in all the markets, the same preparations everywhere ; loaded railway trains, with game and poultry from the country. Perhaps a week before Christmas, we noticed that all the markets began to increase in the quantity and quality of their stoves, and in front of them all, green branches of holly were hung as emblems of the coming holiday. The game shops were full of pheasants, rabbits, and venison ; the confec- tioners exhibited a richer than usual assortment of saccha'- COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 107 fine toys ; at the book-shops, Christmas presents began to appear, consisting of every variety of beautiful books. As the day approached, all these shops, in fact all the shops of whatever kind, increased in the splendor and quantity of their wares ; the very countenances of the people in the streets were brighter than usual, and the rose was deeper on more than one young maiden's cheek, as she thought that on the coming festival-day, she would bid farewell forever ,0 maidenhood. For the day is renowned for its weddings throughout England. The reason being, we suppose, because of the festivities everywhere which fall, in the case of a wed- ding, naturally around the parties as if in their honor, as well as in honor of Christmas. The day preceding Christmas, the whole of London seemed to be engaged in purchasing the wherewithal to enliven and adorn the next. Then, indeed, the shops did look as if utterly incapable of containing their treasures, and from top to bottom, were lined with sprigs of laurel, and box, and pine, and holly ! Then the windows of the confectionery-shops displayed most gorgeous sights for young and eager eyes. In the book-shops Cruikshank and Doyle, Thackeray and Punch, had scattered a thousand laughable books and pictures, as if to make the people laugh during the holidays, whether they wished to do or not ! The streets on Christmas Eve were one continuous blaze of show and ornament. From Piccadilly to Whitechapel the bells rung, and the people flocked to the churches. For a week previous to Christmas-day, the weather had been black and foggy, full of rain, and mud, and hypochondria, but Christmas morning the sun rose to gaze all day long down upon the pleasant earth. The sky was blue and serene, the weather mild, and the chimes of the bells, ringing out against the sunshine, seemed to fill the air with joy. Every shop was shut like the Sabbath, but the streets were full of happy 108 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. faces flocking to and from tlie churches, or wandering in the streets to sharpen their appetites for the Christmas dinner. At all the Unions, or poor-houses, the inmates had pudding, roast-beef, and porter — happy day for the poor v/retches ; it was the only day of the year when they could taste of a lux- ury, and they swung their hats in honor of " merry Christ- mas." After noon the streets began to grow thin, and M'ith a friend we left town to eat onr Christmas dinner among the trees Christmas in the country! The very thought of it makes the heart glow with pleasure. It conjures up such sights of fairy children v/ith laughing eyes and crimson cheeks, and home-joys and pleasures ! It made our hearts beat fast with pleasure to stand upon the gref^n grass and look into the pleasant sky, and hear the few lingering birds sieg — to run races with children, and re- call the time v*^hen we were young and ran races with ou? fellows in America ! 'And when at last v/e all gathered around that groaning table, fair faces and manly faces, yet each one full of Christ- mas smiles, and with pleasant converse and laughing humor tasted the viands it supported, it indeed seemed that Christ- mas in England was a happy festival. And when, the dinner past, the shutters were drawn, and the fire blazed bright in the grate, when we drew our chairs before it, and in the flickering fire-light one after another told stories of perils on sea and land, or of pale and shadowy £^"hosts, so that in the dim and shadowy corners of the draw- ing-room the shadows from the Are seemed to be ghosts of departed days — we said,—" Merry, merry Christmas !" And v/hen by a mere touch, all the room looked brilliant as noonday, and the evening plays came on, and we thought of all the pantomimes at the theatres that night — we, choos- ing to remain in the presence of such natural joys and pleag" COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 109 ares rather than to go to Drury Lane or Covent Garden — when we looked into the happy, loving eyes of those around us, and saw how calmly joyous were all in that room ; — and when at last we were in our chamber ibr sleep, and our head lay on a soft pillow, we thought — last thought before going to sleep ! — may we never forget the English Christmas — nor Palatine Cottage ! But the next morning — what a change ! The day after Christmas is a joyful day for menials, and a provoking on for everybody else. It is a day for " Christmas boxes." Ou that day every person who has during the previous year served you in any capacity almost, will present himself, tip his hat, and say — " Christmas box, please, sir 1" expecting you to make him a present of money. The custom is such an old one that few care to disobey it, but to an American in London it is a dis- agreeable usage. When the paper-carrier left at our apart- ments a morning copy of The Times, instead of allowing the servant to bring it to us, as usual, he made his own appear- ance at our breakfast-room door, and doffing his hat said— » " Christmas box, please, sir I" There was no resisting his demand, and our purse v/as made thinner hy his call. In a few moments the postman made his appearance, made a like demand, with like success. An hour later and the coalman v/ished his Christmas box ; still later the laundress hers, until at night we found no silver left in our purse. Some merchants present the postman with a Christmas box of a guinea, or five dollars. All clerks in large establish ments expect ti he treated in a like manner. There is a dis position, however, in high quarters, to discontinue the practice. The government, it is said, will no longer allow the postman to demand or ask for any Christmas boxes, and many large mercantile houses have resolved not to obey so senseless a usage any longer. 110 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. The custom of feeing servants at hotels is another usage ol England which is especially vexatious to a foreigner. Not BO much because of the expensiveness of the practice as of the indeliniteness of the sum expected. A stranger knows not how much the servants expect for a fee. London waiters expect more than those of Liverpool, and there is no regu- larity over the kingdom in the amount charged in fees by the servants, in similar situations. The American knows not how much to give, and fearing tc offend, generally gives altogethe? too much. CHAPTEE VI ENGLISH POVERTif. SPITALFIELDS. The West End of London is the residence of the wealthy and noble ; the central portions are principally occupied by men of business ; and the East End is the abode of the poor and wretched. The stranger who has entered London from the West, can scarcely believe, after a residence among the princely dwellings and palaces of Belgravia, that there is a quarter in London like that called Spitalfields, and when he sees it fbi the first time, he is astonished above measure. When we lirst gazed at the destitution and horrible wretched- ness of Spitalfields, our blood ran cold at the sight, and when- ever we hear the great English metropohs eulogized as the residence of princes in wealth, and nobility, Ave think of ome of the sights which our eyes have witnessed, among hose parts where the poorer classes herd together, and which we never can efface from our memory. There is a vast population lying east of Bishopsgate-strcet, and in wretchedness it may safely challenge a comparison with any people, or class, or nation under the sun. Spitalfields, the region of Bethnal Green, and Whitechapel, all centre together, making a vast area wholly occupied by poor people. The first-mentioned quarter, Spitalfields, is the residence of the poorest of the poor. In it the buildings are low and black— the interiors small, ill-ventilated, but crowded ; and the streets 112 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. almost too disgusting to describe. In traversing them, one is assailed by the most noxious stenches, and the most disagree- able sights. This region is no small part of London — not a mere Five Points which occupies a small space — it is the res- idence of the laboring population of London ; there are hun- dreds of thousands of men, women, and children in it ;— some just raised above utter wretchedness ; others utterly wretched. That many of these people are without principle and virtue, must be evident from the fact that, in London there is an im mense number of thieves and, prostitutes — the latter unfortu- nate class alone numbering about 80,000. Among the laboring people of London, as a matter of col^rse, there are some who reside in comfortable houses, and have enough to eat and drink — but where there is one of this character and condition, there are ten who are without the decencies of a common home in this country — to say nothing of luxuries and superfluities. In some streets there are almost ordy thieves, robbers and prostitutes ; in the others there are mechanics and laboring men ; and in some, perhaps a majority, the thieves, prostitutes, and laboring poor, are herded together in about equal numbers. We took especial pains to learn, through observation, the condition of- the Ltrri- don laboring population, and we were forced by our observa- tions, and the testimony of reliable men, to the conclusion, that by far the m.ajority— probably five sixths- — of this class do not possess the common comforts of life. Li fact, when a me- chanic is, what is styled in England, " in comfortable circum- stances," his condition here would be thought a sad one. A small apartment, with a loaf of bread and a jug of ale, satisfies the English workman — thank heaven, it is not so here I The neat house, with its prettily furnished rooms, its books and papers, its laughing children, which a laboring man in America possesses, the London laborer never even dares to hope for, except in extraordinary cases. ENGLISH POVEllTY. 113 The rent of buildings in respectable quarters is so high, that a laboring man cannot pay it, and it is folly for him to think of it. So he is compelled to locate his wife and chil- dren amJd disease, and crime, and misery. His wages will not allow him to consult his tastes, nor even his convictions of right and propriety. • Bread is tolerably cheap, but everything else is dear ; tlic price is about twelve cents the quartern loaf; butter is from twenty to twenty-eight cents per pound ; good sugar twelve cents, pure tea two dollars the pound, though a miserable mixture may be had for half that sum. The best steaks are twenty-four cents a pound, and fish are high-priced. Let us suppose a case : a mechanic locates in the region of Spitalfields — he is forced to do so because he cannot pay the rents of wholesome neighborhoods — he has a wife and six children depending upon his labor. Say that he is so 'brtunate as to earn five dollars a week, (always in England, exclusive of board)— how well, how sumptuously can he live on that ? Can he eat meat every day ? Not oftener than every Sunday, Can he pay to send his children to school ? No. He pays his rent— lives upon plain bread and cheese and beer — and rejoices if he is able to keep his children off the parish. He is taken ill— is there any income then ? No. He dies — and v>'here goes the mother with her six children ? To the poor-house ! How happy can a man be with such a prospect forever staring him in the face ? The London working-man Cfi?inot lay up money v/ithout practising too severe self-denial. But suppose our laboring man, instead of getting five dol- lars a v/eek, only gets two — which is oftener the case — what then can he do ? He must herd with the vicious. If he has daughters, they become prostitutes. It is a horrible thing to contemplate, but who is sure that he could withstand the corrupt influences of such an earthly pandemonium as Spital- 114 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. fields; when Starvation — a most potent pleader — pointed ai the only means of subsistence, towards Vice ? Let the pure in heart be constantly surrounded by vicious persons and sights, and confronted by Starvation, and how long would it be be- fore they would lose that beautiful purity which now is their crowning glory ? But the poor mechanic's daughter never had education, nor the light of religion, was never made to feel the beauty of virtue — and the transition is not so great, ot so terrible. And the father sees his children walking in lie paths of Vice — can he say to them, " The way of the transgressor is hard?" They will ask, "Was it not hard before we transgressed ?" and what can he reply ? One of the most frightful features of London poverty is — the lax morality of the poor, in theories and principles, as well as acts. The discipline of suffering is good for man to a certain extent, but it should never touch his stomach. jSTo man can face hunger long. It vanquishes principles and beliefs — it overrides conscience even, or silences it.' These Spitalfields men feel that their social condition is terrible and unjust, and they believe it right to steal when they can get a chance. It is useless to preach to them — they must have bread first. Stay their stomachs first — give them housesT-air. water, and light, by doing away with all class-legislation, by throwing taxation wholly upon property, by making citizens of these working-masses, and then pour into their ears the truth. Tell them then it is wicked to steal — ^but not before, because it is useless. And the religious world will one day be astonished to see how these home-heathens will receive the truths of revelation — when the church shall take her stand upon the side of the defenceless and down-trodden. These ignorant masses need softening by kindness, and they will open their ears to religious truth. That the great majority of the depraved eharacters in thii region are accustomed to think their avocations without any ENGLISH POVERTY. 115 peculiar sin, we have little doubt. A kind of necessity, in their sight, makes the avocation of a thief as honorable as that of a mechanic. A case came to our knowledge while in London, which is a good illustration. The story is true in every particular. A boy from a low lodging-house in Spital fields, went one evening to a E.agged-School in the vicinity. Liking it, he continued his visits in order that he might gain a little education. By degrees he got so that he could read in the Testafnent. The teachers liked him — he was a faith- ful, good-hearted-boy, though born in the midst of pollution He was generous and kind. The School which he attended generally opens at six o'clock on Sunday evening, and closes at eight. The churches generally close at half-past eight or nine. There is a large one but a little distance from this Ragged-School. One Sunday evening the Superintendent kept the boys uncommonly late, until at last this boy's pa- tience was exhausted, and he rose from his seat and walkc-d to the master, asking : . "Please, sir, what time is it ?" " Half-past eight," was the reply. " Please, sir, may T go out ?" he then asked. " Why do you wish to go out ?" interrogated the master. " Because ifs about time for church to break wp l"" *' Well, and what do you care about when the church breaks up ?" " Please, sir," answered the boy, with a perfectly innocent countenance, and as if he M^ere saying the most natural thing in the world, " Please, sir, that's the time for busioiess .'" A smile spread over the teacher's face, as he saw how frankly the boy had confessed his avocation of stealing — but the circumstance might make one weep, for it indicates a sad state of things when the boys in the streets steal under the impr lion that they are pursuing an honest vocation. The masl himself related the story to us, and gave us many 116 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. other facts wh-.^h have come under his own ohservation, all going to prove that the general opinion among the thieves of this degraded quarter of London is, that there is nothing sinful in the avocation of a thief And yet this is in London, which claims to be the most civilized city in the world I Here is a vast population to whom the name of Jesus Christ is hardly known. And their social condition is so wretchedly low that preaching will do them little good. They must somehow be raised to a better condition, encouraged instead of being, as at present, trodden into the dust. We were fortunate in making the friendship of a gentle man in London who has devoted much of his time to this unfortunate class of people. He has ventured into all parts of Spitalfields, and sometimes to the great danger of his per- son. Sometimes when we have accompanied him over cer- tain portions of this great quarter of the metropolis, we have returned home with the opinion that there yawns between the rich and poor of London a great gulf almost like that be- tween heaven and hell. Not merely in reference to deeds, but in everything — aspirations, thoughts, and prine4ples, as well as mere act ons. Among these people there are many^ men and women who were once educated and refined, and m.oved in good society. Nor was it indulgence in intoxicat- ing liquors which brought them there — it was but a turn in the wheel of Fortune — a loss of property, and people with gentle hearts and affections were doomed to such a life. Language is too feeble to portray the mental suflerings of such families, and death is looked for by such as a prisoner looks for a re- prieve. Our friend went one day with a policeman into a terrible haunt in Spitalfields to hunt up a ragged school-boy. They entered a room which was small ; the walls were covered with dirt and vermin, ana yet 30 or 40 men, women, and children were gathered in it, some huddling about the fire. ENGLISH POVERTY. Il7 ana others eating their supper. Our friend could not bear the atmosphere of the room, and after hastily making one or two inquiries, was retreating, when one of the nurriber ap proached and said : " JVe are a hard set, sir, but there is a young feller in the next room who is eddicated, sir, — and he is dying .'" " Dying I" echoed our friend, " let me see him." He was shown into a miserable apartment, and there, upon a wretched couch, lay a young man with a face singularly marked with intellect, and yet wearing an expression of in- tense misery — and indeed he seemed to be dying. Our friend spoke to him in a kind manner, and he answered in a low and melancholy voice. He was widely different from the herd about him, and by degrees his history came from his lips, and it appeared that the only cause why he lay there was, 2^overty. He never drank, was not vicious — but he was dying, and, great God ! in the metropolis of the civilized world, dying of hunger ! He was Avorn down to a skeleton. He could get no employment, he would not steal, as those did who were about him — and this was the result. He was of a good family, well educated, but misfortune in business had plunged his father into the depths of poverty, and he, the son, was starving in Spitalfields. And while he lay there, he had an uncle who was wealthy — who had twice been a mayor of a provincial city. Said he — " I met my rich cousin a few weeks since on the sidewalk. He would not know me. He saw I was starving ; I told him go ; but he turned me off without a penny I" Thus it i that Poverty in London steps in between blood-relations. An uncle will let a boy v, ith a dead sister's blood coursing in his veins, starve to death before he will try to help him — he would ruin himself were he to help all his poor relations, in such a country as England. A friend of ours because of hia kindness of heart employed a young man 9s writing-clerk 118 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. who had a young wife and children to suppo^-t He found that he had an only brother who is the Captain: of one of Her Majesty's mail steamers, and who has a fine income, and when this poor clerk was out of employment and half starv- ing, he went on his knees before his wealthy brother — who flung him 2 sovereign and walked away I But to return to our first story. Oar friend spoke to the young man of his mother, and he burst into tears. She was dead — and a smile spread over his face v/hile he said it — a smile of joy. Oh I hoio glad he was, that slie died before misfortune came. Our friend asked if he had any sisters — a burning blush suffused his features, and he replied in agony, •' Would that she had died v/ith her mother !" All was told in that single sentence — the suffering, sorrow, and shame. " But she is dead now, poor girl," he added, '* and God will, I know, judge leniently one who suffered so much." The young man was removed to a place where he was Kindly nursed, but in a few days died. Tlie physician said that starvation was the cause. We do not wish the reader to suppose that London is the wretchedest, wickedest city in the world — not by any means — but we do think the social state of England is such, that in many cases the ties of blood and marriage are snapt asun- der as an inevitable consequence of that system which de- presses man in the mass, and elevates a few to unbounded wealth, education, and privilege. It cannot be otherwise, argue round it as we may. Everything which tends to raise the civil position of the ivliole people of any country, adds to the comfort, sobriety, and religious fervor of that people, and everything which tends to depress the masses, in their civil rights, adds to their M^oe, vice, and wretchedness. Much has been written and spoken about the miserable habits of beer-drinking, which almost every English work- man has. It is true that it is a vile and wide-spread habit, ENGLISH POVERTY. 119 but we never expect to see the class of English v^^orking men temperance men, until they possess civil rights. It would bo quite as rational to expect our negro population to become masters in literature while in slavery. The cause of temper- ance, from the first, has moved slowly onward in England — L'ut in America it \vd& been just the reverse, for the universal elian.ge of sentiment here in a few years is astonishing. The simple reason is, that the people in this country have rights and homes, and equal privileges. The social [losition of man may be so low as to shut out all encouragement from his heart. If he practises self-denial, he does not reap any striking benefits therefrom. Let the great class of English working-men have their rights, and they will with proper ex- ertion become temperate and good. We know that it is argued by many that Englishmen must cease their beer- drinking before they will have their political rights granted them — that they must become known for sobriety and indus- try, and then they can demand their rights with success. This to a certain extent is true, but after all, social reforms are exceedingly slow in a country- where the majority of the people are without the franchise. GMve to a body of men their civil rights, and you add to their dignity of character, and they will strive earnestly to be worthy of their position. Let them remain as mere cyphers, politically, and they lose ambition, and will turn to sensual gratifications. Either the animal or the intellectual qualities in a man will become fully developed. Make him a serf, and you help to develop his animal propensities ; make him a citizen, and you de- velop his intellect. If to-morrow the right of voting were accorded to every honest man in England, the v/ork of the temperance reformers would be comparatively easy. To be sure the poverty of the people and their ignorance would have to be overcome, but all difficulties would vanish when the people become citizens. Their ambition would be strong 120 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. and steady; unjust laws would be repealed; a system of common schools established, and the miUions of w'orking-men m England would with pride become possessors of happy, €ober homes. DUCK LANE. With a city missionary — a pious and courageous man — we ne day visited Duck Lane. As we approached it, we no- ticed that the buildings were small, low, and filthy, with their few windows stuffed with rags, pasteboard, or broken panes of glass. The doors were generally swinging wide open, revealing any quantity of half-nude children wdth gquaiid faces. The only business-places w^ere little groceries and pawn shops. The latter were full of various articles of clothing, a few watches, and a very extensive assortment of handkerchiefs, which fact, was proof enough that the pawn- shops, as they are called in this region, are principally sup- ported by thieves. We now entered Duck Lane— but saw no signs of beggary there. Li fact, the population of that street are not beggars, but thieves and prostitutes. They are too fierce to beg. We saw no shops or places of business, but 4ie street had an air of suspicious silence. The. gas-lights were dimly burning, and occasionally a couple of policemen, arm-in-arm, were walking down the street. Here we saw a window open, revealing the form of a well-rouged girl, sitting hy it as a decoy, to tempt some foolish man to enter her haunt ef the depraved ; yonder there were sounds of a violin, as if music must minister to the wants of even the wretched peo- ple of this region. We passed on a little way down the street, and then turned into a narrow court on the left, which was full of darkness. The missionary stopped before a li:tle building and knocked. Where we were going was only known to himself, but soon an old woman appeared at the door, which she opened to ui. ENGLISH POVERTY. 121 Her face was frank and lionest, indeed we were surprised tc see such a face in Duck Lane. " She is the only honest person I know in the Lane," said the missionary, and the woman seemed to like the compli- m3nt very much. We now passed up a narrow and rickety stairway, until we came to a little room or hall, into which opened several doors, but all were shut. This was the old woman's room ; in it there was a pallet of straw, a three-legged table, one or two old chairs, a kettle, and a very meagre assortment of crockery — and that was the whole furniture of the room. The missionary turned to the doors of the tier of rooms oppo- site and asked : " Are any of the people of those rooms in ?" She replied that they were all out " And on business ?" said the missionary with a smile Pointing at a particular door he said : " That room is the place of resort for a well-organized band of thieves. I have been there, and the captain of the band gives me a pound sterling every year for Ragged Schools I" "But what can be his object?" we asked, " A good one," replied our friend, " for he is desirous to keep all young persons from growing up as he has done, lie is too old, he says, to live now by any honest avocation — \\c must steal or starve. But he wants his own children to go to the Ragged Schools and become honest and live by indus- try, if it be possible, and so he gives his pound a year for the support of the schools I" After we had talked awhile, the missionary proposed that we should visit a Thieves' Hotel farther down the street. Once more we entered the dark court and the silent street, and walked slowly on till we came to a door over which there was the sign " Hotel." We paused at the threshold a moment, to hear the talk and uproar within. Then taking 1'^ 122 WHAT I SAW IN LONDOK. good care of our purses and handkerchiefs, we opened th» door and pas ed into the bar-room. There were, perhaps, a dozen persons in the room, some of them drinking, some smok- ing, and others talking to each other in a low voice. They eyed us closely at first, as if we had no business there, but rco;znizing the missionary, they relapsed into their former positions, and paid little attention to us. For the missionar}' is at liberty to go where he pleases in this dan^Brous region hd has helped the vile and wretched so many times wher* they were ill, that they never harm him ; besides, they have •confidence in him that he will not reveal anything to the po- lice, as his great object is to save the young, and make known the retributions and the felicities of the next world to all. The bar-maid, in the hotel, was bestuck with cheap jew- elry, and covered with paint, and carried on a species of co- quetry with her low admirers. The thieves were many of them well-dressed, but all were wretched in feature, and when we opened the door and were again in the street, the missionar}'' told us that in almost all their cases they were thieves because they could not earn bread any other way — told us that they were the most ignorant of all heathen — that they knew notliing of God or Jesus Christ, nor ever heard of them save in oaths I We were now abreast the Abbey — glorious Westminstci Abbey — and splendid carriages rolled by, with wealth and obility. Perhaps it was the breaking up of some missionary T.ieeting, where thousands had been voted to spread the Biblo in Afghanistan or Turkey ; while from the Avindows of their meeting-hall they could have seen worse infidels than the sun shines upon in Turkey, and darker souls than any that exist in Afghanistan I Upon one of onr visits to the various Ragged Schools of the metropolis, we became much interested in a lad ten or elcvem. years old, who had a frank, open countenance. H© wm ENGLISH POVERTY. 123 dressed in a suit of rags, but still had an air of nobleness. He was reading busily in his Testament, and would stop occasion- ally, and ask 'Such curious questions cf his teacher, that we could not help smiling. We sat down by his side, and asked him ivhere he lived. " I live almost everywhere," was his reply. We asked him hota he lived. " Almost Siiiyliota, too," was his reply. " But what is your business ?" we asked. ■ " I am a water-cress boy," was his reply, *' and get up every morning at two oclock, and go on foot three or four miles, and sometimes six or eight, into the edge of the coun- try, to buy water-cresses. I get a basket of them there for a shilling, and by crying them all day, generally clear one shil- ling on the lot, which pays my board and lodging." " But can you live upon a shilling a day ?" we asked. " Yes, pretty well — but many times I don't make a shilling, and then I buy a crust of bread, and ' go and sleep under an arch of a bridge, or some old crate or box, down on the wharves I" Just then the teacher beckoned me away, and said : " The lad you have been talking with comes here every eve- ning to study — and that too when he is obliged to be up every morning between two and three o'clock. Not long since, his mother was imprisoned for arrearages in her rent — the sum needed to release her was but ten shillings — and this lad al- most starved himself, and slept out-of-doors, until he had saved money enough to release his mother from the jail ! "Was that not heroism ?" Aye — that boy was a truer hero than ever was Napoleon upon the battle-field, for while one was intensely selfish, the other was ready to suffer for others ! 124 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. THE POOR TINKER,. When the E.ag-ged School system was first introduced in London, it was dangerous to go to the schools, as there were villains ready to injure both teachers and visitors. The plac<'. where the first school was organized was in one of the most dangerous parts of London, not far from Duck Lane, and its first teacher was a poor but honest tinker, who lived near the spot. He was very poor, yet he spent all his evenings and Sundays g,t the school. To be sure he was ignorant himself, and was as ragged as any of his scholars, but his devotion was great, and he labored faithfully until Ragged Schools be- came popular, and teachers from the educated classes volun- teered their services — then the kind old tinker came to the missionary who founded the school, and said, with tears in his honest eyes : " I am too poor, too ragged, sir, for the school — they will not need me any longer I" One day the missionary asked us if we would like to see a specimen of the honest poverty of England. We answered him in the affirmative, and followed him into old Pye-street, where w^e stopped before a mere hut, not six feet by twelve square, the walls of brick, and a few boards thrown loosely over the top for a roof. The only window was in the top of the door, which swung upon leather hinges. We entered the room, but there was scarcely place for us. An old chair, a few culinary utensils, a few tools, were the contents of the room. A few coals were dimly burning in the grate, and an old man, with gray hair, and pale, worn features, yet with a saintly forehead, was bending over them, vainly endeavoring to solder an old kettle which he held in one hand. As we came in, he started up and grasped the missionary's hand, while tears stole do\^n his haggard cheeks and rolled off upon the earth below — for there was no floor. The sight was one ENGLISH POVEKTY. 125 we never hid seen before, and Ave stood, half doubting oni identity — doubting whether it could be possible that such poverty existed in great London. "It is the tinker, our first teacher," said the missionary, " and he is very — God knows Iwio — poor !" Ah I — we saw that — it was indeed the saddest sight we ever witnessed. We shook his hand — a faint, forced smile rested like a shadow upon his face for a moment, and then flitted away, and the tear-drops gathered again in lis eyes. We heard a low moan in a farther corner of tlie apartment, and when we looked into it, saw stretched upon a bed of straw upon the naked earth, a woman, apparently in the last stages of consumption. Great Heavens ! — and was this hon- est poverty in England ? Was this a sample of life among the poor of London ? " She is my luife /" said the tinker, looking up at us in a beseeching manner. And then the missionary took the poor woman's hand, and kneeling down upon the cold earth, com- forted her worn heart by telling her that in heaven there is no more sorrow or suffering I Her breath came short and quick, and she spoke in whispers, but we saw that she was glad to die. It was like wandering all the hot summer day in search of a garden of flowers and cool springs ; — and now she sees the entrance-gate, she snuffs the odorous air, and hears with her thirsty imagination the gurgling of the cool streams I " Ton will be happy there," said the missionary. " Yes ! yes I" she answered, but the tears sprang into her eyes as she asked : " But who will take care oi him ?'' pointing at the tinker. " He who has thus far taken care of you both," replied the missionary. The old man was still trying to mend the kettle. 126 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. " I would not try to mend it — 'tis not worth the trouble,' said the missionary. " I shall g-et a few pennies if I do," said the old man, " and I want to get her a few more comforts before she dies — but I "ear 'tis too old to mend." It was an appeal to our purse which could not be withstood, and when the old man's hot tears of gratitude rained upon our hands, we felt richly paid for the few pieces of silver we had given away. When we came away, and saw in the open street a thousand elegant carriages rolling away ; saw the rich and proud on every hand, our heart grew indignant. The next day the old tinker's wife was a corpse, and he is now strug- gling on alone. ST. GILES. London has its St. Giles as well as St. James — its Seven Dials and Saffron Hill, as well as its Strand and Regent- street. In giving the reader a few glimpses of Duck Lane, and Spitalfields, we have not unfolded a tithe of the horrors of London poverty. We sometimes talk of poverty in America, and there is suffering in many of cur great towns, but when contrasted with the hidden horrors of a London life among the poor, it sinks into insignificance. Our poverty is not American — it is imported. No great class is here poor — but in England nd Wales alone there are three millions of paupers I St. Giles in London is one of the prominent quarters where poverty and the loM^est species of vice abound. It is crowded by a half-Irish population, of all occupations, and no occupa- tions, guilty of all manner of vices, from petty thieving up to cold-blooded murder. The London Statistical Society recently appointed a com- mittee to examine the sanitary condition of Church Lane in St. Giles. A friend of ours was one of that committee, and ENGLISH POVERTY. 127 here are a few of the facts embodied In their report. The Lane is three hundred feet long, and contains thirty-two houses. It has three gas-lights, and water is supplied to it three times a week, but no tanks or tubs were to be found. The first house which the committee visited contained forty-five persons, and only six rooms, and twelve beds I The windows were broken in — really a beneficial thing — and filth abounded everywhere. In the second building, there were fifty persons, and thirteen beds In the third, there were sixty-one persons, and only nine beds, averaging seven persons to a bed, and these of both sexes, all ages and conditions I When it is re- membered that these buildings are low, small, and wretched ; the rooms mere pens, some idea of their occupants can be formed. The three houses mentioned are only a fair sample of the whole Lane, every house of which the Committee visited. In their report, made for the use of Parliament, they say : " In these wretched dwellings, all ages and both sexes, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, grown-up brothers and sisters, stranger adult males and females, and swarms of children, — the sick, the dying, and the dead, are herded together with a proximity and mutual pressure which the brutes would resist : where it is physically impossible to pre- serve the ordinary decencies of life, where all sense of pro- priety and self-respect must be lost." Such is the picture of London poverty, drawn too, by Englishmen. Into this region, scarcely ever, does splendid Vice set its feet. Here are only common thieves and the lowest of the prostitutes. Sin is horrible in its lineaments in St. Giles — it can put on no seductive features there. The expert gamester and richly apparelled prostitute of St. James, little expect to one day make their home in the filthy St. Giles ; yet a few years will accomplish the transition. It is invariably the last resort of the wretched and vicious 128 V/HAT I SAW IX LONDON. When all other portions of London have cast tliem out, St. Giles opens its doors to them, Vv'eil knowing that they can go no farther — till they step into their graves. And yet, such is the power of love, there have been instances of reform even among these lowest of the low. Our friend the missionary in one of his visits to this quarter, met with a young thief who seemed to possess certain good qualities. He met him one Sunday morning in the Strand, well dressed, and pre- pared to carry on his business of thieving, when the missionary went up to him, and took his arm saying : " Come, go with me to church, this morning." " You dare not go to church in company with a thief," replied the young man. " I dare — go come with me," said the missionary. " But the police will know me, and think I go to church to steal, and will turn me out," replied the thief. But the good missionary would not let him off, and he went to church that morning. After the service was over, the missionary said : " Let us go to a walk in the Park I" The thief was melted by his kindness, and asked, "Are you not ashamed to be seen walking with me ?" "No," said the good man, " I am never ashamed of any being who possesses a soul destined to immortality." When they were in the Park he again addressed the thief. " Would you not like to quit your present life ?" "Yes — if I could keep from starvation," answered the young man. " Well, I will get you a situation as gardener in the country, with moderate wages — will you go, and promise me you will do your best ?" " But they will first or last d'scover that I was a thief, and will discharge me." " I will pledge that if you henceforth conduct yourself honorably, you shall succeed — will you promise ?" ENGLISH POVERTY. 129 *'I will!" The result was that the young thief became an honest man, and rose gradually to moderate wealth and education. He is at present the principal of" a large school in one of the first cities in England, He rose because he first had an honest man to recommend him to a good place, and because his early life was shrouded in the strictest secrecy. But the majority of this class have no one to befriend ther.i, indeed the world shrinks with disgust from them, and their course is steadily downward. F* 9 CHAPTER Vll. PERSONS OF NOTE SIR CHARLES NAPIER. Among the naval and military characters of Great Britain, Sir Charles Napier holds a distinguished position. He is S.ear Admiral, but aside from his titles is a man of character, a few traits of which we propose to sketch. He is quite as widely known from his writings, as from his military charac- ter, though possessed of great energy and military talents. His " Lights and Shades of Military Life" have been pub- lished in several countries, and his letters on India, where he has spent a portion of his life, have made a great stir in Eng- land He has something of Andrew Jackson's character — is stern, resolute, and sometimes imprudent. He is a singular author, for he attacks persons and cabinets with his pen, as he would an enemy with his sword in time of war, and as a matter of course, makes himself many enemies. Occasionally he constructs sentences which remind one of Junius, but he descends to coarse personalities too often, in a controversy. Yet there is such a sailor-like honesty and heartiness in all he does and says, that he is very popular, and his books meet with a ready sale. In fact he is pretty generally on the right side of a question, unluckily sometimes, when he damages it by his fiery enthusiasm. He does not hesitate to loudly condemn the atrocities perpetrated by the British Government in India; PERSONS OF NOTE. ]3l to assert that there is hlood upon its hand, and that it will hereafter cry " Out, damned spot ;" yet it will not *' out." His high position as a commander and nobleman, gives him a hearing whenever he asks it, and he is always ready to at- tack anybody, in the Times^ who ventures to hold an opinion contrary to his own, in reference to the array or navy. There is one capital trait in his character — he cares no more for a ^ord than for a cobbler. Sometime in 1849, while Sir Charles was in India, a famous letter appeared in the colums of the Times, attacking him for some recent letters of his, and was signed " Scott Portland." This is the manner in which his Grace the Duke of Portland subscribes himself, and so the reading pub- lic knew, generally, and they anticipated rare sport when the Duke's strictures should reach Napier at Merchistoun. But the gallant Admiral has always been so busy, that he has not kept in memory all the names of the nobility, and never sus- pected that the letter was written by a Duke, and so his reply in the Times commenced with : "I do not know who Mr. Scott Portland is ; but he knows so little about his subject, that his letter is hardly worth an- swering." The Duke in his letter had praised General Napier, the cousin of Sir Charles, and he thus pungently noticed it : " I am much pleased at the high respect Mr. Scott Port- land has for my cousin the General, and much distressed at his want of respect for the Admiral ; but that, I take leave to observe, has nothing to do either with the construction of steam-vessels, or the defence of the country ; and I think, had he left out the latter part of his letter, it would have been more creditable to himself, and given him more weight with the public." The latter part of the Duke's letter was devoted to per- sonalities, while the first part contained the real matter in 132 WHAT I SAW IN LONDOIT, controTersy At last Sir Charles became aware that he was waging a dispute with an emi»ent man- — a Duke — but his Dnly allusion to it, his only apology was the following preface to his next letter in the Times : "So it appears that Mr. Scott Portland turns out to be no less a personage than His Grace of Portland! I never could have thought that a Doke would have condescended to make a gratuitous attack on a half-pay admiral whom he never saw ; he did,-»-and he got his answer. Now for his second letter," The world is ready to forgive such a man for niany faults, and thoiTgh he is constantly firing his guns at the Premier or Cabinet, the Board of Admiralty or the Secretary of the If avy, yet he is universally popular. His hearty boldness is liked and pardoned by those v/lio would not pardon the &ame spin* if exhibited by a mere civilian. In his personal appearance, Sir Charles Kapier is very striking. In height he is rather above the ordinary stature of men, his figure ia none of the finest, and yet i§ coRimand- ing. Hi§ forehead is espansive but retreating, and hia face very strongly marked by iurrows. He has a shaggy pair of gray-blaek whi&kers, and ha§ a couple of fierce and large eye- brows, and from behind these hie piercing eyes shine out with a half-ferocious intelligence. His nose is rather long, and slightly Roman — altogether he is one of the most striking ui&R we ever met. An utter stranger, if used to reading faces, Vv^ould at once pronounce him a reraaikable man. His crotchets all show themgelves in his face. There is the fire of genius in his eyes, but there is also a look of odd defiance there, which at once lets you into the secret of his always being in hot water. He loves battle — war to the knife is his delight, and whether it be with the pen or sword, physical or mental, it matters little to him, so that he can be fighting. Of course with hii talents and position in society, it is not dif« PERSONS OF NOTE. 133 ficult to pick a quarrel, and he is constantly disputing with, or attacking somebody. There are many such characters in this world, and many of them, with all their destructiveness, are not ba:^ at heart. DUKE OF WELLINGTON. The Duke of Wellington, we need not say, is one of the most renowned characters among the military heroes of Eng- land, and the world. We are aware that much has been written about him for the past twenty years, until his name tires one, yet there is much in his character to admire, as wdl as much to detest. That iron will of his which nothing could ever break through, or triumph over, must excite our admiration, for there is much grandeur in it. It has made him what he is — -one of the most distinguished men in Europe. His dogged firmness is only equalled by that of Joseph Hume, the parliamentary economist. But while we admire the Duke's energy of character, we cannot applaud the use which he has often made of that energy, and almost terrible will. He was as firm, while Prime Minister, against the righteous demands of an incensed people, as he was on the field of Waterloo, or in the battles fought on Spanish soil, where his genius and energy won for him so many honors. He was as willing to draw his sword upon the starving mechanics of Birmingham, who dared to plead for their just rights, as upon the enemy across the chau* nel. It Vv'as the discovery of this fact which suddenly over- threw the man from the grand pedestal of universal popular- ity on which he stood. It was this fact which shivered through a million hearts, leaving horror where before there was almost worship. The nation had shouted pseans in his praise ; the sky grew dark with the dust raised by the feet of millions gathered to 134 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. do him honor ;^— he was " the saviour of his country," "the hero of a hundred fights," the nation's God, for the hour at least. So many iron statues were cast of him, that to this day he goes hy the name of " the Iron Duke." Suddenly the people saw in him their deadliest enemy. He opposed all their political rights ; he advocated the most abominable abuses, and dared the people to a trial of their strength. The agitation of the Eeform Bill became greater, profonnd- er, until millions were in a state of dangerous excitement. They only asked for simple rights. They did not demand that the monarchy should be overthrown, or the aristocracy — they merely asserted a principle which was maintained centuries before in Spain, that " taxation without representa- tion is tyranny." The Duke of Wellington, instead of speaking soothing words to the people who loved him, and adored him — instead of concession, unsheathed his sword, and drew his fingers lightly across its edge before their eyes, trying its keenness, as a butcher does his knife before he cuts the throat of a lamb. Then burst forth the rage, and horror, and disgust of the people. From one end of Great Britain to the other there arose a cry of passionate indignation, and the Duke fell from his position, and with the people has never recovered, no, nor ever will recover it. In their madness the multitude broke in his windows, and in fear he ironed them up, and the thousands of foreigners present at the Great Fair at Hyde Park had before them not only the great monument in his honor, but also a monument to his shame in those ironed windows. We first saw the Duke three or four years ago in the House of Lords, and were of course struck with his appearance Although very old there is firm decision upon his face, and he resists the usual weaknesses of old age with great success PERSONS OF NOTE. 135 He is no orator now, nor ever was ; nor has he, we think, shown himself to be a statesman. Yet he speaks very often in the House of Lords. On such occasions he always seems to lean upon Lord Brousfham, and turns to him constantly, and is answered by his erratic lordship with an approving uod of the head. His body, once tall and firm, is slip;htly bent, and there is a tremulousness in his motions which be- trays his years. We were astonished to see a man eighty years ohl bear himself so finely. His peculiar nose told us the instant our eyes fell upon him who he was — it has not a duplicate in the world. Three years later than our first sight of the old hero we saw him one day at the Admiralty Office. He mounted his steed and rode away. We could see plainly that he had grown old, from his face and manner, and yet were astonished to see so old a man mount his horse, and gallop ofi" like a young officer. He wore his favorite Hessian boots, and over- coat of blue, a white neckerchief, and a common English hat. We could not look at the old man without a feeling of mournfulness. We know the man has lacked true senti- ments, but there is something grand in his stately old age. Besides for a few years past he has abstained from doing or saying anything which is unpopular with the people. Wheth- er his glory gained on the battle-field be hollow or not, it was the people of England who shouted him on — it was for them he fought, and tJiey cannot well deny him honor as a war- rior, howevei much they may detest his statesmanship. The House of Commons has a celebrated character in Colonel Sibthorpe — celebrated not for intellect, or for gemus, but for eccentricity. He is a kind of David Crockett, without Crockett's great energy of character. He never rises to speak without setting the whole House into a roar of laughter, and yet he never utters any brilliant sayings. There 136 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. is often a rough wit in what he says, but if another member would have uttered it no laughter would have ensued. His character is such that what he says can never assume dig nity. He is a fine-looking, hearty man, with a jovial coun- tenance ; is a great racer, gambler, and Vv'iue-drinker, and somehow his very appearance seems to give a flavor to his words. He makes short speeches, so full of odd ideas and humorous arguments, that the members cannot help laugh- ing no matter upon what side he chances to be in the de- bate. He is one of the aristocracy — a kind of pet of theirs, and yet is an exceedingly coarse and vulgar man in many things. He often crows like a cock in the House when he is' tired of the speech of a fellow-member, or will interrupt him in other ways. He was bitterly opposed to the building of the Crystal Palace, principally because the ground upon which it stood w'as the resort of the aristocracy, and they could not pursue their horseback rides as usual with thousands oi the vulgar, common people around them. His hatred of foreigners, too, is intense, and he prophesied all manner of evils as the result of such an incoming of foreigners to see the great Exhibition. He frequently called upon God to strike the crystal building with his lightnings and dash it in pieces I The proper place for such a conceited idiot is not in Parliament, but in a Lunatic Asylum. Were he a poor man he would never be tolerated in the House of Commons ; and we are very sure he would not dare to act in Congress at Y/ashington as he does in the English House of Com- mons. But a scion of the English aristocracy can act the ibol to perfection, and no one dares to murmur. Fine ladies smile as beautifully upon him as if he were really a gentle- man, v/hile at the same time they curl their proud lips in scorn at the base sight of a Commoner, however fair and gentlemanly. Colonel Sibthorpe is also a notorious libertine, and we were PERSONS OF NOTE. 137 told by exce.lent authority that upon the death of a favorite mistress an English hishop condoled with him «pon his loss. Such a fact needs no comment, A someT>'hat sinirnlar character in England is Mr. Feargus D' Connor, once the leader of the great body of the Chartists — a political body who agitated for universal suffrage, and five other, as they termed them, grand reforms. Their grand mistake was in not concentrating upon one point — uni- versal suffrage. For it is clear enough that when the peo- ple have obtained the right to vote, universally, they can elect such a Parliament as they please, and that Parliament or House of Commons can pass such laws as they please. But this party scattered their energies upon sis objects instead of one, and as a result have obtained nothing, the party and agitation being now pretty much silenced. Mr. O'Connor was the leader, but he was a man of bad moral character^ and such men are never to be trusted in political matters, and Mr. O'Connor hae^'ong since lost the confidence of the working-men of England. Ten years ago he was a man of considerable abilities, and was feared by the Government, unless, as many think, he was bribed by the Government to lead on the people in matters of reform, and to so lead them as to disgust the better portion of the country with their cause and thus surely defeat reform. Such things have be- fore now been done by the English rulers. Feargus O'Con- nor was then a good speaker, only he lacked real sincerity — ■ he could not conceal the air and manner of a demagogue which he was at heart. Since then he has developed hinrt- elf thoroughly before the nation, and no confidence is felt iis him. Of late he seems to have lost his usual powers of mind, and makes the most ridiculous speeches. He tried to address Kossuth in a public meeting at Southampton in th^ most inflated manner, but w^as promptly put down. 138 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. MACAULAY. Mr. Macaulay's fame is not confined to England, nor aro his works read so extensively there as in America. He is now disconnected with politics, as he ever should be. He is now in his proper sphere, with his pen in hand, for he has too much genius to be a mere politician. As an ora- tor lie has won the highest praise, but not as a mere poli- tician; and in an election was defeated by a far less talented, but more straightforward man. Few v»^ho were in Parlia- ment at the time will ever forget his memorable debate with Groker, his political as well as literary enemy. T. B. Macaulay's father was a strong advocate of the abo- lition of slavery, and the son has inherited the anti-slavery opinions of the father, who was the companion of Wilberforce. But in politics Macaulay has been rather unfortunate. We know that he won a brilliant oratorical fame while in Par- liament, but his course was such as to displease his constitu- ents. He was too much of a party man — bound up with an- cient Whigism, or more properly speaking, 'modern Whigism, which is amazingly like Toryism. He was unpopular with the people. It was thought, and with a good deal of truth, that he did not act up to what he had written. Few writers do. Guizot has written very fair sentences in favor of liberty, but his acts have been just the opposite. So, the historian, while a member of Government, seemed to lose his love of freedom. He commenced his political career by being appointed Com missioner of Bankrupts. One act should ever be remembered to his honor — while president of a commission, appointed to framxC a penal code for India, he incurred the greatest odium by insisting that the nativr-*' should in law-privileges be on an equality with the English ""or this he was attacked in an PERSONS OF NOTE. 139 outrageous manner by Englishmen in India, w-ho wished the laws to discriminate in their favor. It is far better that Macaulay is now freed from the slavery of politics, and engaged in literature. He is truly one of the most magnificent writers of this age, and it is doubtful whether he is not, as a writer of gorgeous prose, highly ornamental, but full of ideas, the most talented of any man living. His essays written as he says in the preface to one edition, " when fresh from college," are, some of them, notwithstanding the traces of youth they bear, master-pieces of prose-writing. His essay on Byron is rich and satisfying, while that on Warren Has tings is as fine biography as one often meets with in the world of literature. His books, notwithstanding their beautiful classicality, are exceedingly popular with the middle-classes, and one great reason for this lies in the fact that while he is classical, he i? not coldly so. He is warm, and his heart beats manfully through his pages. His ornament is always in good taste, and gives a color to his writings which makes them relished by the people. His publishers pay him highly for his works — the Long- mans pay him enormously for his History of England. The two volumes which sell in America for less than one dollar, sell in England for eight. It will, perhaps, be thought that the high price must keep it out of the reach of all but wealthy people, but such is not the case. Circulating libraries are more common in England than with us, and sooner or later, through them, all intelligent persons, if poor, get the reading of Macaulay's works. A single circulating library in London purchased one hundred copies of the first volume of Macau- lay's last work, and is in the habit of purchasing largely of all new books, yet the subscription-price is as low as five dol- lars a year. This is the lowest price, and for it you only take one book at a time, but it answers all purposes for the pool 140 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. scholar. If you are tolerably rich, and live in the country, you can pay hign and take thirty or forty books at a time I The personal ai-pearance of Mr. Macauiay is prepossessing. He is large and full — has an oval face, whichjs not pale and scholar-like, but rich and ruddy. His eyes are dark and beautiful, his hair fine and curly, liis forehead retreating, but large and intellectual. His manners are refined but hearty, and his conversation is exceedingly interesting and brilliant. We need not say that he is welcome to any society — he is a favorite among the very highest in rank and power. He is a lion at conversational parties, and it is thought talks some- times too copiously. His early essays were first collected and published in Amer- ica, and he made the publication here an excuse for the issue of the collection in England. With all his home-popularity he probably has a larger number of readers in America than in England. BROWNIXG. E,oBEE.T Browning is one of the finest-looking men among the literary celebrities of London. There is a classical beauty in his features which it is rare to see out of Greece or Italy. His hair is long, and ricli, and black ; his eyes are very bright and dark ; his forehead, which slopes backward, is capacious, and white as marble, and his neck with the soft whiskers coming down upon it, looks finely. And he is the husband of Elizabeth B. Barrett — both poets, and both strik- ingly original in their compositions, Elizabeth Barrett was for years before her marriage with Mr. Browning, the inmate of a sick chamber, and for months such was her extremely delicate state that she lived in darkness, could not bear even the soft light of the sky. After their marriage, th*^ poets went to Italy, and there was written Mrs. Browning's poem to her " first-born" child. # PERSONS OF NOTE. 141 Although Robert Browning is not a popular poet, as he wiites in too exalted a style for the masses, yet his firstlings were well received, after which he went to Italy and wan- dered leisurely over its enchanting hills and valleys. Four years of unbroken silence followed his first volume, which in- troduced him to the English public, when his " Sordello" appeared. He is regarded by the " select few" as a great but erratic thinker, while the great majority of Englishmen hardly know his name. He is better appreciated in America by the peo- ple than in his native land. His wife is more popular than himself, for she has written poetry in homelier language than he usually deigns to employ BULWER. Sir E. L. Bulwer is to be seen in town during the " sea.- Hon," as certain months of the year are termed by the fash- ionables of England. He has one of the most beautiful coun- try-residences in England, the land above all others for fine fountry-seats. It is called Knebworth Park, and lies in Hert- fordshire, and was the property of his mother, who was the daughter and heiress of Henry Warburton Lytton, Esq. He is the youngest son of General Bulwer, of Haydon Hail, in the county of Norfolk, and at an early age entered the House of ' ^t he claims that there is always a moral in them, but the tendency of all his books is bad. He has a good personal appearance, and sometimes at- tempts to address reform-meetings, but the people will not often hear him. Such a man does more to corrupt a nation than a hundred common propagators of infidelity, for he educes the young by glowing pictures of sensuality and crime. He professes to draw his stories from actual London life, but if such were the case, it is no apology for him. The truth is not to be portrayed to all minds in the style of his writings. m THOMAS CARLYLE. Thomas Carlyle is one of the first among the literary celebrities of London. We should not venture to write much concerning him, since he has characterized us as " a nation of bores," only that we have the pleasant consolation of feeling that we never even so much as looked at his dwelling-house. Any American who, after all that Mr. Carlyle has written of "bores," will persist in trying to see him, must indeed be a man of energetic impudence. The " Latter Day Pamphlets" have been bitterly received in England, as well as here — even his best friends were displeased with them. But Mr. Carlyle should not, and will not be judged by those pamphlets. His recent book, " The Life of John Stirling," proves that the hand that wrote the life of Schiller has not lost its cunning. No one can doubt his great intellect — no one can doubt his masterly genius He has heart too, and earnest sympathies for humanity. He cares little for rank ; gewgaws cannot blind him to that which is hid beneath them. He is a wild, earnest, mysterious Scotchman. Who needs to be told that his style is strange and fantastical ? Some call it affectation 162 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. — others his natural utterance. His life has been a singular one, and men write from their lives. A happy experience may color his style with rainbow hues, while darkness and 6uflering may have a contrary effect. It is at any rate true, that Thomas Carlyle has walked through dark places, and has had a sombre experience. His style might have been far different from what it is, had he not wrestled with the world as few men do. He was born in the south of Scotland, but at a young age went to Germany, whejre he remained for years. He became thoroughly acquainted with the German language, and with rnany distinguished literary men, in Germany. He became the attached friend of the great Goethe, and the attachment was mutual. He came beiore the English world first through the maga- zines, and anonymously, but his original style and great ener- gy of thought could not fail to attract attention. His first book appeared in 1826, and was a translation of Goethe's " Wilhelm Meister." Then came a life of SchilJer, and afterward, a German E.omance. His later works we need not mention, for they are better known in America than in England. He is indeed more popular here than at home. From the first, Carlyle has had a hard life to live. In early life he was not at all successful. He was bitterly criticized, and the world did not, as in the case of many authors, rush in between critic and author for the latter's defence. His books were not popular, nor was he acknowledged to be a great writer. There were a few who clung to him, and they only partially understood him. The majority of men would have lost heart, but for years he struggled on, and never thought of despairing. His life of Schiller was received at first with surprising coldness, and yet was so highly praised in Germany, that PIRSONS OF NOTE. 153 G jethe translated it into the German, and bestowed the high- est compliments on Mr. Carlyle. It is singular how for years his books were neglected. Volume after volume came dead-born from the press, as it were, and yet the brave spirit of the heroic Scotchman was not to be conquered. In 1832 he added something to the sale of his books by a series of lectures delivered at the West End of London, and though his audiences were small, yet they were composed of the wealthy and powerful. The fashionables made the discovery that^^he had genius, and at once his books began to sell. He has lectured many times since then in different parts of London, but always to com- paratively small, though exceedingly refined audiences. He is perhaps the most awkward public speaker one could hear for a twelve-month, even in such a place as London. He uses very little gesture, rubs his hands together, screws his mouth up into all manner of shapes, and yet his dark eyes shine with earnest enthusiasm, and his whole person bears the im- press of solemn earnestness. And then the "matter richly compensates for the lack oi mariner. He opens to your view brilliants and diamonds, and whole veins of shining ore, and yet it is done in an abrupt and disjointed style. You are jerked along hither and thither ; made to stumble over this and that uncouth sentence, yet you get such glimpses of beauty and grandeur that you dare not complain I The tone of his voice is harsh and unpleasant — he has no control over it whatever, and some of his delicate admirers make complaint of this. His style of speaking is a good deal like his style of writing — it is unpleasant, yet the matter re- deems all. England is the greatest place we ever yet were in for de- manding an author's religious opinions. Every author, every stranger, is asked the exact state of his religious belief Mr. Tarlyle has been questioned, but is too proud to answer his G* 154 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. inquisitors. His religious belief was with himself and his fxod. Many accuse him of being a Deist, but we do not credit the accusation. He probably is latitudinarian in his views of the Bible, but is no infidel. It is said that Mr. Carlyle has a small property, from which he derives a slender income aside frofn that Yi^iieh comes from his published works. He lives very plainly in Chelsea, a sub- urb of London, on the southern bank of the Thames. He is tall and slender in his person, has dark hair and a dark countenance also. His forehead is high, but not broad —his face ia poor, and his cheek-bones are conspicuous. He IS getting to look old, and in fact getting to be advanced in years He has little of what is styled politeness — so say some of his intimate friends — and does not knov/ how to bandy com- pliments. But to those whom he loves he is kind and affec- iionate. People will have their own opinions of Thomas Carlyle as Ru author and a man — ours are that fie has extraordinary genius, but that there is a certain amount of " sheer fudge" mixed with it. His notions respecting human government show how genseless a great man can be at times." Almost any other man would be dubbed a fool for publishing such nonsense. The position of a literary man in England is not so high as m France. If he be exceedingly distinguished, the aristocracy and nobility are ready to do him honor in a 2Jatronizi77g manner. In France, the literary man takes the first rank in society— Vt^ealth and blood retreat before the advent of genius. No man in social position stands higher in France than La- raartine. Dickens in England is as niuch respected, but is in- ferior in social position to Lamartine. There is too much worship for mere rank in England to give Genius a fair chance. Thomas Carlyle in France or in Germany, would PERSONS OF NOTE. 155 be a greater character, in social respects, than he is in Eng- land, EBENEZER ELLIOTT. Ebenezer Elliott, the " Corn Law Rhymer," the "Poet of the Poor," is dead, but it is one of our happiest thoughts that we once met him, heard the eloquence of his lips, and pazed at the sweet, though passionate enthusiasm of his face. He died the first day of December, 1849, at his own resi- dence, not far from Sheffield, where he used to carry on the iron business. We can see him now as we saw him that rare night in London (he was not often in London), sitting by a pleasant coal-fire, with his gray hair and rugged countenance, upon which usually there was a smile. We can see those clear, blue eyes of his, and the brilliant flashes which they gave forth as sentiment required, and even the tone of his voice is still in our ears. He used to talk with great force — his sen- tences were energetic and abrupt. We need not speak of his poetry— the world has given him his niche of honor. In conversation, he was always fuJl to the brim of animation, and was the soul of a literary party. One who was not ac- quainted with his characteristics, would have taken him to be an awful man, for when he was fired up he looked the stern enthusiasm of his nature There was no half-way feel- mg about the man — if his indignation was excited at all, it was in an almost terrific manner. His pathos was entirely free from namby-pamby ism— it was clear, and touching, and hardly ever failed to draw tears from the hearts of those who read him. Sweet and mild as the carol of an early spring bird are some of his lays, v/hile others, and the majority, are full of the bitterest and most powerful indignation. He is terse in expression, and is sometimes accused of needless harshness. It may be so, but the man had a hard-heirtcd 156 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. set of men to deal with, when he sang songs against the English aristocracy. In early life he had a hard lot, suffer- ing from constitutional sensitiveness, and there is a fair ex- cuse for his burning plaints of indignation and scorn. He is a strong prose-writer, but the world knows very little of him in that character. His command of the strongest Saxon is wonderful— he crushes an enemy into nonentity — yet the poet is a man of finest pathos and sensibilities. He it was who wrote of a dying boy : — " Before- thy leaves thou com'st once more, White blossom of the sloe ! Thy leaves will come as heretofore, But this poor heart, its troubles o'er, Will then lie low. ***** " Then panting woods the breeze will feel, And bowers, as heretofore, Beneath their load of roses reel ; But I through woodbine-leaves shall steal No more — no more ! " Well, lay me by my brother's side, Where late we stood and wept, For I was stricken when he died— - I felt the arrow when he sighed His last and slept." "We saw the poet at a literary re-union m the great me» tropolis, and well remember how joyous the party was when the name of " Ebenezer Elliott'' was announced. We had longed for a sight of the veteran poet and reformer — the man who by his verses could rouse a nation to their duty. When he entered the drawing-room, we almost all rose to do him honor. His hair was bushy and gray ; his forehead high, broad, and compact ; he Vv^as tall and sinewy in frame ; when he was still, his eyes were of a cold blue, but when he wa» PERSONS OF NOTE. 157 excited, they stirred you with their brilliance and various shades of emotion ; his eyebrows were large, and gave him a wild appearance ; his face was broad and marked with char acter and decision, and his lips closed together with that ex pression of almost dogged firmness, which few possess. He sat down and conversed pleasantly for awhile ; but at length some person made a careless political remark reflecting on the people of England, and extolling the nobility. Then the old man's eyes flashed, and his frame quivered with emo- tion. When his tongue was fairly loosed, he came down upon the extollers of the nobility with tremendous power. His words were thick and abrupt ; terse, and bitter, and ve- hement, and yet you felt that all he said was not against the utterer of the sentiment, but the sentim.ent itself. Ebenezer Elliott was born in March, 1781, and was con- sequently over sixty-eight years old when he died. His father was clerk in some iron-works near E-otherham, and received a salary of X300 a year, which in those days was considered a large salary. In his youth it is said that the poet was distinguished for two qualities — a keen sensitiveness and an inability to make any progress at school. He says of himself, that his stupidity was made worse by the help of a schoolfellow, who was in the habit of solving his arithmetical problems for him, so that he got over as far as the rule-of-three without understanding numeration, addition, subtraction or division I His old school- master, after many eflbrts, gave him up for a dunce, and his fa- ther, after finding that he knew nothing from his books, put him at hard work in an iron-foundry near by. He had a brother, named Giles, whom everybody said was smart, and who was clerk in the counting-room of young Ebenezer's employers. Many a time he wept, alone in his little bed-chamber, over his situation and his sad ignorance, and there alone did he make vows which were the secret of his after greatness. 15S WHAT I SAW iX LONDON. One of his youthful friends was Joseph Rarasbotham, thi son of the old school maiter who had decided that he was a dunce, and this friend clung to him, and as he was fitting himself to enter the ministry, his studies were of the higher clasB. Young Elliott used to hear him recite Greek poetry, and was entranced with the music of the ver.«c, without un- derstanding a syllable of what he heard. He committed to memory the introductory lines of the Iliad, and in after-life was fond of repeating them as remembrances of his boyhood. At this time in the poet's history he suffered the aeutest misery, and it is said that previous to his death he commenced an autobiography, but when he got as far as this part of bis life he could not bear to dwell upon it, and threw the manu- script into the fire, v/ith his eyes flooded with tears. He came to Sheffield six or eight hundred dollars in debt, and commenced the iron business. Year followed year, and yet he was unsuccesgful, until, at la?t. after enduring every hardship, he was happy in business He grew rich fast, and had not the great panic of 1837 overtaken him in the midst of trade, he would have been an immensly wealthy man. As it ^vas he lost twenty or thirty thousand dollars, and was glad to retreat from the manufacture of bar-iron. He built himself a fine villa, out of town, enclosed by an acre of beau- tiful ground, which was surrounded by a high wall, shutting out all sights of the manufacturing town. With his sons he again went into business in the iron and steel trade, and was at the time of his death engaged in it, though not personally attentive to it. His office in the iron warehouse used to be reckoned a place of great curiosity, for alongside ponderous ledgers, amid dust and smoke, were vol- umes of Shakspeare, and Milton, and Dante, and all the master-poets. Here he would sit and write entries in hia ledgers, or poetry, letters of buiiness, or prose for the press. The literary history of the poet is full of interest, but wc PERSONS OF NOtE. 159 can only allude to it. From the day on which the young Ramsbotham recited Greek poetry to him, he \yas filled with a burning desire himself to express his thoughts in rhyme. He applied himself to his books, became a proficient in mathe- matics, a fine reader, a handy chirographer, and well read in general literature. His first poems were written in defence of the poor, and a.s at that time the critics were all in the employ of rich and noble men, they did not deign to no- tice the poet of the poor, or only sneered at his rhymes. But he who could make a fortune out of nothing was not to be disheartened at this, but continued to ponr forth touching and beautiful gongs, with those that were harsh with indig- natory eloquence. The keenness of his satire could not fail of attracting the notice of his aristocratical opponents, and their notices of him were &uch as to add fire to Elliott's heart. In the great Corn-Law straggle he battled like a giant for cheap bread, and the nation hailed him as one of its deliverers. The critics at last gave in, and admitted that he iva?> a poet. So he won a fame and a fortune together ! He " weighed out iron and ideas — took in gold and glory !" He was sick for several months previous to his death, and when it seized upon him was engaged in the revision of an en- larged edition of his poetic works for the press. During his last illness he composed several beautiful poems. His descend- ants are five sons and two daughters. Three of the former carry on the old business at Sheffield, while the other two ar© Church-of-England clergyroeK. CHAPTER VIIL EE M A RKABLE PLACES BILLINGSGATE MARKET. Foul language is often characterized as " billingsgate," but we dare say there are some in America who use the word without understanding its origin. It comes from the great fish-market in London, called Billingsgate. It is the only wholesale fish-market in London, and necessarily is a scene of great confusion. The people who do business in it are a low and dirty class, and at all hours of the day the market is the scene of noise, confusion, and filth. By degrees the peo- ple got to calling language which was foul and noisy, " bil- lingsgate." Tha market opens as early as three or four o'clock in win- ter, and in summer by two. One frosty morning in winter we arose early with a friend to make it a visit. The stars shone brightly as we turned into the still deserted streets, and it seemed a relief for once to thread the streets of busy London and find them silent. Not a soul was abroad, save the blue-coated policeman, who, as we passed him, looked at us with a suspicious glance, as if he thought it very strange that we should be in the streets at that hour of the night. From one street we passed into another, until we came into the ever-busy Bishopsgate-street, and that too was silent as REMARKABLE PLACES. 161 the rest. We walked down this into Grace Church street, then turned to the left down a street near the river Thames, M'hich brought us to the great Fire Monument. Then we began to see the crowds of fishermen with their baskets and carls. At last we were in Billingsgate-market ; and we never witnessed a more singular sight in our life. The large market lies on the banks of the Thames, and slopes from the street down to the water. This place was covered with the v/holesale dealers at their stalls, and all the alleys were crowded with buyers. Gas- lights were burning brilliantly at every stall, and the business of buying and selling was going on with a great deal of noise. The street for a long distance each side of the market was full of carts and horses ; there were hundreds of men in the market all talking and running " hither and yon," so that wo could not hear ourselves speak for the din. The river was full of fishing-smacks, which were constantly passing up their treasures as fast as the retail-venders bought off the supply already in the stalls. Old women were scattered about with ancient copies of " The Times,'" or " Chronicle'' to sell you cheap, provided you wished to buy some " shrimps," or a "sole," and had no basket to carry them home in. It was a scene of life and bustle, and yet it was dark out in the streets, and all London was asleep I Billingsgate is named after Belin, a king of the Britons, who built a gate on this spot 400 years before the birth of Christ. From Belin's Gate came the present Billingsgate. There are several good-looking churches in its vicinity, and also several fine mercantile houses. The fish are brought to the market in various ways. Sal- mon are brought from Scotland, in warm weather, packed in ice. It takes only twenty-four hours to bring them. Fish- ing-smacks arrive at all hours of the day and night from the different fishing-grounds of the kingdom. Some of the night- II 162 "WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. railway trains bring loads of fish fron. Margate, Hastings, &c. &c. Great quantities of shrinfips are brought from Mar gate. Each stall in the market dispensed a peculiar kind offish ; one, shrimps ; another, turbots ; another, mackerel ; another, salmon, and so on. Some of the wholesale fishermen are very wealthy. The Society of Fishmongers is one of the most powerful in Lon- don. It h thought to be^uite an honor to be elected an honorary member of it. Their Hall is one of the finest buildings in the city, and stands at the right of London Bridge, on the north- ern bank of the Thames. Fishmongers have risen to occupy the highest office within the gift of the city — more than one of them has risen to be Lord Mayor. Fish are dear in London, and as yet comparatively few of the people eat them. The prices are not like those of the different meats, stationary ; but rise and fall every day Therefore the latter are preferred. The scene at Billingsgate well repaid us for our trouble in visiting it. The walk on such a frosty morning gave a healthy hue to our cheeks, and also to our spirits. To emerge suddenly from the deathdike streets into such a scene of noise and confusion and brilliant gas-light, had som.ething of the magical in it. We turned away and walked to the centre of London Bridge, The day had dawned, and the east was full of crim- son streaks. London lay before us — and asleep I Looking eastward, we saw a dense forest of shipping from tite four quarters of the globe ; tiiere rose the vast Custom House with its Avails tinted over with London smoke : still further down the stream rose the turrets of the Tov/er into the clear, cold sky. To the northwest, looking, we saw great St. Paul's dome, a beacon for the lost in the great wilderness of London, REMARKABLE PLACES. 163 There was the tall column in memory of the great London fire, when for whole days the flames raged and the sky was black as night with smoke. It was a splendid sight ; and then we thought how it must look on a summer's morning, when the sun rises long before the people wake. Then Wordsworth's splendid lines, written or conceived upon one of these London bridges, over the river Thames, came to oui iips : — " Earth has not anything to show more fair ; Bull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty : This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning : silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 2?'ever did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendor valley, rock or hill ; Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep ! The river glideth at its own sweet will ; Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep, And all that mighty heart is lying still 1" THAMES TUNNEL. With a friend, one day the last summer, v/e visited the Thames Tunnel, and though it was not our first visit, by any means, yet we were awed by the grandeur of the mar* vellous structure. From the Bank we turned east into Bishopsgate, then into a Jew street called Houndsditch, and soon entered White- chapel. Here, at a junction of streets, we saw the famous establishment of " E. Moses and Son," the great clothing-deal- ers of London. The building is costly and showy, but is, like all sucb gaudy shops, wanting in taste. We soon came in 164 WHAT r SAW IN LONDON. sight of the Towner, with its turrets gilded by the morning's sun, and passed down towards Wapping, one of the dirtiest places m London. It is full of low houses, ignorant people, obnoxious scents. The inhabitants are many of them coal- heavers, and are wretchedly poor. But soon we saw a hum- Lie guide-board with " To the Tunnel" inscribed upon it, and turning to the right, saw before us the little circular tower of stone which guards the shaft from the occasional overflow of the water in the Thames. As we entered the door, each slipped the toll — one penny — upon a counter, and passed through a gate which would only admit one person at a time, and which, at the close of the day, indicates the number of persons that have passed through it, thus giving the servants in attendance no oppor- tunity to cheat, were they so disposed. When we had passed this clicking gate, we entered the circular room which is at the top of the shaft of the Tunnel, on the Wapping side of the Thames. Leaning over the rail, we looked far, far be- low upon the floor of the Tunnel, and saw spectators looking away across to the E.otherhithe side of the river. In the little room, upon its walls, there are a few daubs of paintings, of Naples, and other beautiful places in the world. Gladly leaving these, we commenced our descent by the spiral stair- case. At last we were upon the bottom. Gas-lights were burning brightly, for it is always night in this subterranean region. AVe found that it was impossible to see to the oppo- site end of the tunnel, either from a curvature, or because of the distance, which is 1200 feet. The noise of music was in our ears, and in the many arches of the Tunnel, it sounded prettily. The Tunnel has two divisions, or half-arches — l through one it was intended that carriages should pass, and through the other, foot-passengers. Between the two depart- ments, there are innumerable little cross-arches, which were 'it up, and occupied by old women and young women, with REMARKABLE PLACES. 165 nil kinds of gewgaws, and fine baubles, for sale. There was nrte-paper with pictures of the Tunnel upon it, all manner of views, and trinkets, and edibles, which were pressed upon uy with that zeal which European shopmen know so well how (> exercise. In the centre there was a " Steam Cosmorama," turning ut views "beautiful and unique," for " only one penny!" It was patronized too, once, by Her Majesty the Q^ueen, which of course wreathed the brow of the proprietor in unfading laurels I Once upon a time, the Glueen, attended only by (ine or two ladies, came here in great haste, and as soon as s'he had entered, no one was allowed to pass in until she had ct/me out. The keepers of the stalls, the old and young v;omen, were overwhelmed with the visit, so unexpected, so glorious, and with an impulse of truest loyalty, made a path for the blooming Q,ueen with their handkerchiefs and their shawls ! Then to think what a sight the few who were in the Tunnel had of Her Majesty ! And the dueen out of curi- osity entered the little " Steam Cosmorama," for one penny, and ever since, the word " Royal" has been prefixed to it ! Standing in the middle of the Tunnel, we could see each entrance with distinctness. There was a little coffee-room close by us, and with our companion we took a seat and called for a cup of the. beverage and a couple of " hot cross-buns," merely to gratify a fancy, for we were not hungry. There were many gentlemen and ladies present while we were in the Tunnel, mere visitors, and occasionally some per- son on business crossed from one side to the other. However, as a thoroughfare and speculation, it is a great failure, paying scarcely interest upon the capital emphatically sunk in the construction of the Tunnel. The carriage-way has never been completed at the entrances, as it is sure not to pay for the immense outlay of money necessary to construct a gradual approach to the level of the Tunnel. 166 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. We passe(f along to the Rotberhithe entrance, where a woman wished to take our likenesses for only a shilling, and an Italian music-grinder gave us his coarse-ground melodies for what we pleased to give in return. Then we saun- tered slowly back towards the Wapping side, thinking as we walked of the daring spirit of the man who first proposed to construct this mighty Tunnel, and who accomplished, after years^of difficulty, what he undertook. Isamburt Brunei was that man — afterwards Sir I. Brunei, as a reward for his ge- nius, his courage and perseverance, and final success. In 1824, by express act of Parliament, after the continued suit of Mr. Brunei, a company was Ibrmed to construct the Tunnel, and in March, 1825, the workmen commence J sink- ing the shaft.- Day after day it descended, until at last it rested upon the proper level, and the main work commenced. The excavation Avas to be about 38 feet broad and 22 high, but it never could have been done but for the invention of a shield by Mr. Brunei, in which the workmen could pursue their work with comparative safety. The first few feet of excavation was through a firm clay, and then came a loose and watery sand, and for thirty-two days did the workmen dig ahead in this soil, expecting death every day, until hard ground was again reached. On the 14th of March, 1826, bursts of water came through upon the workmen, but the precautions taken were so good that the shield was closed against it, and no one was harmed. Two weeks after, a similar occurrence took place. The 1st of January, 1827, 350 feet of the Tunnel were completed, but as depressions in the bottom of the river were discovered bags of clay were thrown in to fill it up to the usual level. In May, a great irruption took place while all the workmen were at their posts. The water came pouring in, in volumes upon them, and they ran for their lives. Some were knocked RE.>IARKABLE PLACES. 167 down, while others were choking with water. 3ne of the assistant engineers says : " The wave rolled onward and onward. The men re- treated and I followed. Then I met Isamburt Brunei. We turned round : the effect was splend d beyond description. The water as it rose became more and more vivid — as we reached the staircase, a crash was heard, and then a rush of air extinguished all the lights I looked up and saw the staircase crowded — below, and beheld the over- whelming wave. Dreading the reaction of this wave upon our staircase, I exclaimed, ' The staircase will blov/ up I' Mr. Brunei ordered the men to get up with all expedition, and our feet were scarcely off the bottom stairs, when the first flight, which we liad just left, was swept away The roll was immediately called — 7iot one absent !'' It took a long time to fill up this chasm with clay, and go to work again at the Tunnel, but the genius of Brunei would not rest. It is said that the workmen became accustomed to expect death at any instant, and that one night at dead mid- night, wliile a son of Mr. Brunei was overseeing the work- men, he heard a cry of " The water I The water !" p^nd hur- rying to the place of danger, found the poor exhausted labor- ers fast asleep in the " shield" — one of them had cried out in his dreams ! In 1828, another irruption took place, and this one was fatal to many lives. A son of Mr. Brunei was at the time in the Tunnel, and was knocked down. He struggled under the water for awhile, his knee was badly injured, and he set ut to swim to the entrance, when a mighty wave came gweeping along, which swept him on, and on, and finally up to the top of the shaft, where he was saved. But many of the poor workmen were killed or drowned. This calamity occurred at an unfortunate crisis. The funds of the company were low, and they ceased operations. Mr. Brunei was in a 168 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. - state bordering on madness, but for seven yeais his favorite work was untouched. Yet it is said that every day of that seven long years, he came and viewed with a iiielancholy brow the half-wrought Tunnel, and would not give up his hopes. See what " Nil desperandii^n''' accomplishes I In 1f^35, after a respite of seven years, the arches of the Tunnel were unclosed, and laborers went to work at it under the old master-genius, Isamburt Brunei. Five difierent irruptions took place, but the work went steadily onward until on the morning of the loth of August, 1841, Mr. Brunei — now Sir I. Brunei — passed under the Thames, completely to the other side. His great thought was at last turned into reality — he had made a pathway for millions under a river which carries upon its bosom the fleets of all nations of the world ! The whole cost was in the region of $3,000,000, but as we have remarked, it does not pay as a pecuniary scheme. Still, it stands before the world as the mightiest work of its kind in all the world — and it is well worth three millions I Perhaps there was never a brighter instance of Genius struggling under the most disheartening difficulties, and finally, through every obstacle, achieving not only a glorious success, but an appre- ciation of it from the highest quarters. Well did Isamburt Brunei deserve the honors he received — without them his name would be immortal. It is a strange feeling which comes over one as he stands i'l the centre of the Tunnel, and knows that a mighty river is rolling on over his head, and that great ships with their thousands of tons burthen, sail over him. We well remember our first visit to the Tunnel, and how our companion, an English lady of lively temperament, said as we stood in the centre : " Ah I what if now these arches were to give way, or the river were to gursh in upon us, what would become of us ?" The bare idea of such a thing was enough to strike one with horror. REMARKABLE PLACES. 169 " But." added she, " / am your cicerone to-day, so we will sit down, and while tasting some marmalade, compute the possibility of the thing I" Preposterous as it may seem, there are people in London who durst not venture into the Tunnel ! There is no single work of Art in London (with the excep- tion of St. Paul's Cathedral) which excites so much curiosity and admiration among foreigners as the Tunnel. Great buildings are common to all parts of Europe, but the world has not such another Tunnel as this. There is something grand in the idea of walking under a broad river — making a pathway dry and secure beneath ships and navies ! THE OLD BAILEY. With a friend we went over the Old Bailey, from top to bottom — over court and over prison, and as it is one of the most celebrated prisons in Europe, we saw much which was striking and full of interest. We saw the spot on which the celebrated Jack Sheppard was executed, where that cunning deceiver, Jonathan Wild, met a similar fate ; and witnessed the Old Bailey Court, in session. There is no object in London which has such a dismal as- pect as this prison. Its massive walls, so grim and dark, strike the beholder with an awe which chills him to the heart. Yet of all the countless throng which passes it each day, how few ever think of the wretched culprits who are dungeoned away from liberty within those dreary walls. It is only the atiranger, unused, whose heart throbs quickly at the mght. The Prison is but a little way from the General Post Office, or Saint Paul's, and lies between Fleet-street and Holborn, on a cross street which is named " Old Bailey." The mora- H 170 WHA'I I SAW IN LONDOK. ing on which we visited it, the Court in a part of the build ing was in session, or in fact the Lord Mayor was opening it. The room was a small one, considerably smaller than the court-rooms of America, and ranged upon the Bench were the Lord Mayor, the Recorder, the Sheriffs, and a i'aw Alder- men. They were all in their wigs and robes, and the Mayor, Recorder and High Sheriff wore the insignia of office upon their breasts. A jury was being impanelled while we were present, so that we saw no trial, nor exhibition of legal skill. In this little room all sorts of crimes are tried, from petty lar- ceny up to treason. Tlje Lord Chancellor, Lord Mayor, Re- corder, Common Serjeant and Aldermen are the judges, but pretty much all the cases are tried before the Recorder and the Common Serjeant. There was no more decorum in the court-room than in similar places in this country. The Court, as we have remarked, wore wigs and solemn gowns, and also all the lawyers. It is claimed that this gives to the court-room a solemnity which it needs, but we must confess that the sight of a couple of lawyers in full costume, and at their profession of wrangling, always excites oui laughing, rather than reverential faculties. There was no one in the Prisoner's Dock, but We could not help remembering some of the celebrated persons who have stood there Fauntleroy, the celebrated (Quaker forger, took his trial there, and was hung in front of the prison. Eliza Fenning had her trial therein 1815, and circumstances have since transpired wViich render it almost certain, that she was innocent of the crime for which she was hung. She was a slight, beautiful creature, and it is said, grew so emaciated after her sentence, that when she was suspended upon the gallows there was not weight enough in her body to produce strangulation, and Jack Ketch was obliged to apply additionai weight to produce death. The poet Savage had his trial there in 1727, and Jonathan KENiARKABLE PLACES. l7l Wild in 1725. Jack Sheppard swung before the gates of the Old Bailey a year previous. Dr. Dodd had his trial also in the same place. There is, to us, son:iethiiig exceedingly painful in the sight of a prisoner taking his trial. The suspense of an innocen man must be full of agony, and the alternate hope and fear of the guilty one cannot but be terrible. The countenances of such men are painful, whether guilty or innocent, and the in- nocent .man is much more likely to be confused than the har- dened criminal, A friend introduced us to the Governor of the Prison, Mr. Hope, who received us in a very gentlemanly manner, and learning that we wished to go over the Prison, summoned the chief turnkey, who at once took us to the kitchen for the male department. There were large fires and boilers, and every- thing was looking clean and neat. The prisoners are fed with meat four times a week, and soup three, besides a regular al- lowance of bread and potatoes. We soon came to where, in an open court, surrounded by iron pickets, but open above to the sky and air, some prison- ers were taking exercise. They were all waiting for trial, and among them were some pleasant faces, but upon the majority crime was written in plain characters. We passed through several such yards, in all of which a party of pris- oners were taking exercise, by walking round and round, close by the iron pickets. One party exercises thus for an hour, when they return to their cells to give room to anothei party. We entered the cells, and found them neat, wholesome, and clean. We now came to that part of the prison where the convicts are confined, and were shocked with the expres- sion of every countenance. There was generally an expres- sion of low cunning upon the faces of the prisoners ; their eyes were keen, but their foreheads low. 172 WHAT I SAW IN LONDOK. We saw in one cell a dariuir burglar who had, a short time previous, broken into the house of an American near Regent's Park. In one yard the turnkey pointed up at a corner, and said that a sweep who was a prisoner, had con- t ived to run up forty feet of the bare wall, and climb over d i ace of iron spikes. It is impossible to conceive how it was done, and now, the corner where two walls meet, is guarded by a row of iron teeth which project from the wall, a short distance from the summit, to prevent any similar attempts. We entered one room where writing materials were pro- vided for the prisoners awaiting trial. A dozen persons were seated upon the wooden benches, and were leaning forward upon a table, writing letters to friends. We caught the heading of one of the letters, and it ran "Dear Mother." We were struck with the sentence, and thought how much of wretchedness in this world the innocent must suffer with the guilty. Almost all of these persons had hopes of an acquittal, through the abilities of some able lawyer, or the positive mer- its of the case. There are several noted criminal lawyers who practise at the Courts of the Old Bailey, some of them making twenty- five thousand dollars a year. We were now shown the Condemned Cell — the place \vhere persons are kept after a sentence of death has been passed upon them. It was a gloomy little spot, with hardly any light creeping into it. We could not help thinking of the weary nights which many a poor wretch has spent in that lolernn cell — of that last night, with all its bitter woe and agony. There was no occupant then — it was as silent as a tomb, and while we rested in it for a few moments it seemed to us as if we could see and feel something of the scenes which it had witnessed. If those walls could only speak, what tales of misery they would tell. If the evil-inclined could only see the bitterness of spirit which those old, grim walls have witnessed, they would " go, and sin no more." kemakkable places. 173 If they could see the tears of repentance upon the pale cheeks of the condtmnecl — too late for pardon in this world- ^there would be no more pleasure in crime. Mrs. Manning was the last occupant of the cell, and we remembered her case well. Husband and wife were both engaged in the murder of a friend, to get a large amount of money, in his possession. The chapel of the Old Bailey is a neat place, though rather small for the accommodation of all the prisoners. There are two or three boxes in it for the Governor and the Sherifis, and some open benches for young offenders, but the older ones were separated from the rest by an iron fence. There is a seat which is always occupied by persons condemned to exe- cution. Upon the last Sunday a sermon is preached for the especial benefit of the condemned, and here he sits with all the rest gazing at him. Years ago his coffin used to be placed right before his eyes, and stra»^gers could gain an entrance to look at him during the sermor,by paying the turnkey a few shillings, but such barbarities aj€ not now allowed. We now passed into the femtL-i department of the prison — the first room we entered com.iined two quite handsome young women, and as a rule there was a great different^e between the appearance of the rD.ile and female prisoners. The latter were ashamed, and cc5.\d not conceal it. One face was really a beautiful one, and tuimsoned with blushes, but some of them seemed wholly Icr^ to goodness, and such were indescribably more horrible than ait.y of the men's faces. Why is it that an utterly depraved ?*'on^an looks so much worse than a depraved man ? It certainly in so, and perhaps the reason is, that we all expect to see virtue and beauty in women, but we are not so confident of mei? and when we are disappointed, the look of Vice upon tht ^•'>n^'tn's face looks more hideous than on a man's. In one ward we saw a woman with as sweet u b'.-HJng 174 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. babe as ever we saw out of it. It was a touching sight — such pure Innocence in the arms of Guilt. And when we thought of the cruel scorn of the world, we wished, almost, that the babe might die, instead of living to herd with wicked men, or if among good, to be taunted with its birth. Born in Newgate I let the child be gentle as the gentlest, pure as the purest and beautiful as a poet's ideal, and that stigma would forever banish it from society ! There was a young girl in the same ward only eight years old, who looked as if she was frightened at our approach. We M^ondered how one so young could get to such a place. Her face was very pale, and she was reading a little Testa- ment when we entered the room : she curtsied to us grace- fully, and as we looked at her, we thought her eyes filled with tears. She did not seem to be at home with those around her. Close to her side there was one of the ugliest- looking hags we ever have seen, with reddish eyes, and a low forehead. Newgate has its contrasts as well as the world outside its walls. It was in this prison that Jack Sheppard v/as imprisoned, and from which he made that daring escape which handed his name down to us in rhyme and romance. We are clearly of the opinion that such books as Ainsworth's " Jack Sheppard" should not be tolerated in society, or rather that men of con- science should not write such books, for they make heroism out of crime. Yet the darmg courage of Jack is unquestion- able, and some of his adventures were most wonderful... In a book entitled " Annals of Newgate," by Hev. Mr. Vilette, who was once a chaplain of Newgate, or the Old Bailey, he says as he was returning one evening from the west part of the town, and had lost his way, he stopped before K. pnieh to listen to the voice of a preacher, when he heard h following words : Now my beloved, what a melancholy consideration it is, KEMARKABLE PLACES. 175 that men should show so much regard for the preserva- tion of a poor perishing body, that can remain at most for a few years, and at the same time be sc unaccountably negli- gent of a precious soul which must continue to the ages of eternity ! We have a remarkable instance of this in a notori- ous malefactor, well-known by the name of Jack Sheppard. What amazing difficulties has he overcome, what astonishing things has he performed for the sake of a miserable carcase hardly worth having! How dexterously did he pick the padlock of his chain with a crooked nail ! How manfully burst his fetters asunder, climb up the chinmey, wrench out an iron bar, break his way through a stone wall, and make the strong door of a dark entry fly before him, till he got upon the leads of the prison ; and then fixing a blanket to the wall, with a spike, he stole out of the chapel ; hoAV in- trepidly did he descend to the top of the turner's house, and how cautiously run down the stairs, and make his escape at the street door ! O that ye all zvere like Jack Sheiyjiard ! Mistake me not, my brethren : I do not mean in a carnal sense, for I propose to spiritualize these things. Let me exhort you then to open the locks ,of your hearts with the nail of repentance ; burst asunder the fetters of your beloved lusts ; mount the chimney of hope ; take from thence the bar of good resolution ; break through the stone walls of despair, and all the strongholds in the dark entry of the valley of the shadow of death ; raise yourselves to the level of divine meditation ; fix the blanket of faith with the spike of the church ; let yourselves down to the turner's house of resignation, and descend the stairs of humanity ; so shall you come to the door of deliverance from the prison of inquity, and escape the clutches of that old executioner, the devil, who goeth about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour !" 176 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. SOMERSET HOUSE. Any stranger who has walked often up that busiest of London thoroughfares, the Strand, must have noticed Somerset House. Its gates of iron open into the street on the left hand as you go west, about three fourths of the way up from St. Paul's to Charing Cross Passing one day near the gates, we entered the court of the House — if it be proper to designate so magnificent a pile of buildings by that name. The buildings are in a quadrangular form, are of great height, and constructed of granite. The open court is of great extent, and what is a little singular, the buildings not only extend far above the lev^el of the court, but also far below. A railing of granite runs round the area, and leaning over this, you look far below to a second level which is the basis of the structure, though very much below the level of the streets. There are subterranean passages running in every direction ; some opening down on the shore of the river Thames, when the tide is out, and when it is in, half filled with the tide. Here we found immense cellars also, for storing provisions and wines, and vaults in which the echoes of our voices seemed hollow and unearthly. The buildings can be seen best from the court, though s good view of them can be obtained from the river while of board a steamer. Upon one of the walls, about forty feet above the level of the court, there is inserted the face of a watch. This singu lar circumstance always arrests the attention of the stranger Tradition says that when Somerset House was being built, one of the workmen, or architect from the Continent, while upon a staging, lost his foothold and would have fallen to the ground below had not his strong watch chain caught in some part of the staging, which arrested his descent for a moment, REMARKABLE PLACES. ITt long enough for a kindly hand to reach forth to his rescue. This story was told us by a person well versed in antiquarian lore. The workman to commemorate the feat, inserted the face of the watch in the wail. The magnificent Somerset House was once the residence and property of one man. In 1536, Henry VHI. married the sister of Edward Seymour, who was at once made a peer. When his sister gave birth to a prince, he was made Earl of Hertford, and four years later elected Knight of the Garter, and appointed Lord Chamberlain for life. The King died at this time, intending to heap new honors on his favorite, and left instructions in his will that his intentions be carried into effect. In 1546 he was elected by the Privy Council, Governor of the young king Edward VI., and shortly after was made the Duke of Somerset. He then owned property upon which the Somerset House was built, and now stands, the whole of C event Garden, and neighborhood. He soon began to construct the present Somerset House, intending it to be a magnificent family mansion for himself It was a grander private scheme than England had seen executed, and as at the very time she was engaged in a war, and a terrible plague raged in London, the people were discontented, for all the while the Duke of Somerset was spending enormous sums of money upon this building, and importing- Italian architects. For the sake of personal aggrandizement he brought his brother to the block, and in many ways rendered himself unpopular, and he was finally committed to the Tower, '• for seeking his own glory as appeared by his building of most sumptuous and costly buildings, and specially in the time of the King's wars, and the King's soldiers unpaid." He appealed privately to his great rival, the Earl of War- wick, and was released, but Avas sliortly after again confined, and finally beheaded. His own nephew, Edward VI., in his diary, thus coldly notices the death of his uncle : — 1*78 T^HAT I SAW IN LONDON. " Jan. 22. — The Buke of Somerset had his head cut off between eight and nine this moniing, npon Tower Hill." Thus perished the founder of Somerset House. Many of the peo^, .e loved him, and a few moments before his death a rumor among the multitude said that his nephew the King had pardoned him, and a cry arose of " Pardon I pardon I God save the King !" But it was a mistake, and the Duke was beheaded after a new hope of life. Although the Duke con- structed Somerset House, he never inhabited it. After his death the sister of the King, Princess Elizabeth, inhabited the house, and after she came to the throne it was a favorite res- idence of hers. Anne of Denmark afterwards used it, and in 1625 the body of James I. lay in state there. In 1780 a portion of the house was devoted to the exhibi- tion of the paintings of the Hoyal Academy. The Society of Antiquaries and Royal Astronomical and Geological Societies also now have apartments in it. The Admiralty has large offices in it. The Civil List and Audit Office are also there, and a Board of Stamp and Taxes E,evenue. In the southern front of the buildings is the In- come Tax Office. Perhaps we can give a better idea of the business done in it, by stating a fact. In the Taxes department (which only includes probate and legacy duties, land taxes and the Income tax), 700 clerks are employed, and the yearly revenue collected by these, averages more than 60,000,000 of dollars, or nearly one quarter of the v/hole public revenue. It is a little singular that a building constructed by a pri- vate man for his private residence should nowbensed as it is. It is a pleasant souvenir of the past, that " golden age," in which the noble was al]-in=ail, but the millions of people little loetter than slavei. REMARKABLE PLACES. 179 THE FIRE MONUMENT. riie Fire Monument is one of the finest in the world. It 3( mniemorates the great London Fire, which occurred in the year 1666, or nearly two hundred years ago. The column stands upon the spot where the fire is supposed to have origi- nated. It stands on Fish-street Hill, on the city side of Lon- don Bridge, and overlooks the whole metropolis, but especially the river with its many bridges, the gray old Tower, St. Paul's, the Bank, and Royal Exchange. We visited the top of the monument one pleasant winter morning. A sixpence, admittance-fee, was demanded at the door, and we commenced the toilsome ascent through a worse than Egyptian darkness. Three hundred and forty-five steps brought us out into hght and wholesome air on the summit. Tlie sight was almost overpowering. The morning, thongh a winter one, was sun- ny, and the atmosphere of that peculiar clearness and purity only known when frost is in the sky ; and scarcely ever, then, in London. Just below us, on the right hand, the Bloody Tower lay, with its cupolas shining in the morning's sun — ■ and still farther on, the docks lay with their harvest of ships and steamers. The Thames ran gracefully along at our feet, with its bosom freighted with steamers, barges, bridges, and boats. On the left was the low roofed building which holds in its vaults the wealth of the world — the Bank of England ; still farther on, the glorious Saint Paul's Cathedral ; and in the south-west, in the spot where the sun would set, West- minster Abbey raised to the sky its venerable walls, the pleas- antest sight of all, the sight most suggestive of dim and shad- owy thoughts. All London and its suburbs lay spread out before us. Gaz- ing down upon the Strand, Holborn, Bishopsgate, and Cheap- side, the great street-arteries of London, Wordsworth's lines 180 WHAT I SAW TN LONDON. written on Westminster Bridge at sunrise, when the city- world was asleep, came to our mind, and the thought of " All that ojiighty heart'" throbbing impulsively before us, was grander than to see it '' lymg still.'' Men pouring down Cheapside in one incessant, never-ending stream, earnestly moving onward ; lawyers pressing after debtors, merchants ntent on great bargains, stockholders on good dividends, doc- tors on a large practice, the trades people on a lively market, and the crossing-sweepers on making pathetic bows, such as win sixpences instead of pennies — carts, wagon*, coaches, cabs, omnibuses, and carriages, all pushing on, and making an up- roar like that of a thunder-storm ! We know of nothing grander, in the line of sounds, than the noise of a great city, heard away from it, so far that no harshness is heard, but a low, heavy thunder. It is to the ear what a yellow, dooms- day, London fog is to the eye. It was a long time before we could waken from the trance we were in — ^the contemplation of the world at our feet ; looking as we did from Greenwich in the East to Westmin- ster in the West ; from Stamford Hill in the North, to Clap- ham in the South ; taking in such myriads of churches ; so many acres of houses ; so many forests of shipping ; so many hideous, awful streets, so many beautiful, wealthy streets ; so many wretched, drunken, starving homes, so many happy and generous homes ; so many pleasant re- sorts for the wise and good, so many dens of crime and pollution , and so many hundreds of thousands, even mil- lions, of human beings. Noiv the scene before us was' all excitement, all noise, and bustle, and confusion. A few hours sweep on — " And all that raighty heart is lying still !" The great world which now lay open before us with its REMARKABLE PLACES. 181 gigantic impulses, its miraculous energies, Lared to our vision would in a few hours be helpless as an infant. A few years pass away and then they all sleep the Sleef of Ages I Verily, sic transit gloria mundi ! *' Life in its many shapes is there, The busy and the gay ; Faces that seem too young and fair, To ever know decay. *' Wealth, with its waste, its pomp and pride, Leads forth its ghttering train ; And Poverty's pale face beside, Asks aid, and asks in vain. " The shops are filled from many lands- Toys, silks, and gems, and flowers ; The patient work of many hands, The hope of many hours. "Yet mid life's myriad shapes around, There is a sigh of death !" * * * * » » t. The Great Fire, of which this Tower is commemorative, consumed four hundred and thirty-six acres of buildings, over thirteen thousand houses. St. Paul's, ninety churches, Guildhall, the Royal Exchange, Custom House, four bridges, Newgate, fifty-two Companies' Halls, and a vast number of other edifices. The amount of property consumed was over $60,000,000 : Pepys, in his Diary, gives, in a few quaint words, the fol- lowing vivid description of the fire : — - " Then did the city shake indeed, and the inhabitants did tremble, and fled away in great amazement from their houses, lest the flames should devour them. Rattle, rattle, rattle, was the noise which the fire struck upon the ear round about, as if there had been a thousand iron chariots beating upon 182 WHAT I SAW I^ LONDON, the stones; and if you opened your eye to the opening of the streets where the fire wag come, yon might see in some places whole streets at once in flames, that issued forth as if they had been so many great forges from the opposite windows, which, folding together, united into one great flame through- out the whole street ; and then you might see the houses tumble, tumble, tumble, from one end of the street to the other, with a great crash, leaving the foundations open to the view of the" heavens. " And now horrible flakes of fire mounted up to the sky, and the yellov/ smoke of London ascended up towards heaven, like the smoke of a great furnace — a gmoke so great as dark- ened the sun at noonday. If, at any time, the sun peeped forth, it looked red like blood. The cloud of smoke was so great that travellers did ride at noonday some miles in the shadow thereof, though there wag no other cloud beeide lo be seen in the sky !'' And yet all this apparent waste of property by fire is now supposed to have been a mercy and a real benefit to London, It demolished vile streets, wretched houses, and buildings, built in miserable taste, and opened a chance for new streets, wider and more wholesome than the old ones, new houses, and new edifices, built upon the principles of a correct taste. Often in the world, if we observe, we shall gee that what in the present appear as calamitiea the future proves to be blessings. The whole top of the Monument is inclosed by an iron net- work. It was erected a few years since, because jump- ing "from the top of the Monument had become a popular way of committing suicide. The last suicide which occurred was but one of the many tragedies enacted privately in this world of ours. A young woman in a wealthy family was seduced with the solemn promise of marriage by a scion of nobility. She REMARKABLE PLACES. 183 was yoimg, fond, and beautiful, and loved " not wisely, but, alas, too well." Week after week did the cruel seducer postpone the day of marriage, until at length the truth began dimly to dawn upon the young creature's soul. The truih ! — that he had dishonored her, and was a liar and a villain. And yet so deeply-rooted was her love, she could not loathe him, but clung to his promise still longer, till at last a report came to her ears that he ivas to be married, but 7tot to her. Ordering a close cabriolet and driver, she went to the rooms of the seducer, and asked him plainly if the report were true. He was thunderstruck, and knew hardly what to say. " Y/ill you marry me ?" shrieked the now half-mad girh He protested that he loved her, and had always loved her, but she asked, " Will you marry me V They were not alone — his young companions were about him — but she saw no one but him, heard no one bat hira, and asked but the one question : " Will you marry me ?" At last his answer came — he loved her, but his station forbade the marriage — he would like to, but Fate said — "iVb/" In a moment she was gone. To the driver she said, " To the Fire Monument !" and a little while after a horse all smoking stood before it, and a young woman drapped a six- pence into the palm of the keeper. He noticed she looked wild, and trembled excessively, but suspected nothing wrong. Swiftly she glided up that winding staircase, and soon stood alone at the summit ! It v/as the w^ork of an instant — she stands on the giddy edge — she balances in the air for a second — a slight shriek — a groan of horror from the crowd below, who notice her too late to save her — and &he lies a mangled corpse on the pavement below. This is a tradi^ioi? of the Monument. 184 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. A JEWISH SYNAGOGUE. One pleasant Saturday morning we accompanied a friend on a visit to the Synagogue of St. Helen's — the best Syna- gogue in London, and perhaps in Europe. We walked from Bishopsgate into Crosby Square, and from there through a narrow lane to the bailding, the exterior of v/hich does not prepossess the observer in its fivor. It is situated in a dirty quarter of London, where Jews of all classes and conditions c-ongregate, and is but a little distance from the Rag Fair, which is kept up by the poorer class of Jews. We went often through this part of London, and several times when the Rag Fair was in full operation, and invariably came away disgusted. The confusion on such occasions can scarce- ly be described. A large, open court is filled with men and women of ghastly,, avaricious countenances, and dressed in decayed habiliments. The commodity which they sell and buy is — rags, and nothing else. Old clothes, and hats, and boots are bought up by large dealers from the smaller ones, and are shipped to Ireland, and indeed all parts of the v/orld. Old men and women continually traverse the streets of London with their cries of " Old clo' ! old clo' !" purchasing for a merely nominal sum of money all worn-out garments, of whatever description. The Rag Fair is held two days in each week, in Houndsditch — a street principally monopolized by the Jews. The Synagogue was in this region, and we were little ex- pecting the sight which was soon presented to us. Passing into the interior, we forgot ourselves, and pulled off our hats as usual in a place of worship, but were quickly reminded of our mistake, for we were requested by an officer to put them on again I It was in their eyes a violation of the sanctity of the place to remain uncovered. The place was crowded — the lower part was devoted to REMARKABLE PLACES. 185 males, and the galleries to females. Every man wore his hat and the taled, a white, embroidered scarf. The interior is of no great extent, and yet it wore an air of spaciousness and elegance which surprised us. It is said to be one of the finest specimens of interior-architecture to be found in London, The upper portion of the place — wltfere the altar usually stands in churches — the " ark," consists of a beautiful recess a little elevated from the floor of the rest of the building, and is built of fine Italian marble. A splendid velvet curtain, in red, hangs over the lower part of the alcove, fringed with gold, aud emblazoned Math a crown. In this recess are kept the books of the Law. Between rich Doric and Corinthian colunnis are three arched windows, with stained, arabesque glass. Upon the centre one is the name of Jehovah, in Hebrew, and the tables of the Law and this sentence : " KNOW IN WHOSE PRESENCE THOU STANDEST." The appearance of this recess from where we stood was exquisitely beautiful. The lower portion of it was the " Ark," or " a shadoiv of that in the Temple." The decorations were gorgeous, and as the sunlight from the beautiful eastern windows fell upon it, we could almost unite with the Jews present in their feelings of reverence for that holy spot. As the worship proceeded, we listened with intense interest, for it was our first visit to such a place, and to us the Jews have always seemed a melancholy, interesting class of religionists. It .seemed as if we were living in David's or Abraham's days, and were mingling with them in worship. Yet we missed the glorious Temple of old, and there was a look on the faces of all the Jews present which told of their state of dispersion and desolation. While we were there, they sang some He- brew melodies, and they were exceedingly plaintive. There was a wild sorrowfulness in them which it was touching to Iiy6 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. near. The women in the galleries sang with excellent skill but the gentle mournfulness of their songs reminded us of when — " By the rivers of Babylon there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion." The galleries were a beautiful spectacle — in England we never saw a more beautiful collection of women. The most of them had the prominent features of Jewish female beauty — dark hair, flashing black eyes, and a tender expression. They are said to be the most affectionate wives and mothers in the world. The countenances of the men we cannot say were prepos- sessing. There was an eager, avaricious look upon almost every face. Yet we could see that they were in earnest about their worship. It is a prominent feature in their char- acter — an intensity of devotion to whatever they pursue, in religion as well as business. One significant fact was given to us by a Londoner, and it is, that no people in the world give more to the poor than the Jews. In the Synagogue ^ve visited, a Jew never passes by it without adding something to its wealth. Not a Jew is ever allowed by his fellow religionists to come upon the parish, and every one is allowed a respectable burial, however de- cayed in circumstances. The professed followers of Jesus Christ — He who inculcated generosity to the poor — may well learn a lesson in this respect from these Hebrews, for their fellow church-members are allowed to perish with paupers and make their resting-place with the world's outcast, be- cause of poverty ! The morning service was over, and we passed out into the street. Although it was Saturday, the streets were silent, solemn, and still. They were "Jew-streets," and they keep their Sabbath with the greatest show of decorum. Hounds- REMARKABLE PLACES. 187 ditch, which every other day of the week is crowded with a disagreeable population, now was quiet and pleasant. As soon, however as we had passed into Bishopsgate-street, we \^-ere among Christians, and the tumult was great as ever, and the change striking and painful. There are in London over 20,000 Jews, and they are an exceedingly industrious class of people. We need not say faat some of theni are very wealthy. The Rothschilds, Solo- mons, and others, are among the wealthiest men of the world. As a religious class, the Jews in former years suffered terrible persecutions, and they cannot now sit in Parliament as legis- lators. Once, in London, the Jews set fire to their own houses, and with their wives and children voluntarily per- ished in the flames, to escape from their infernal Christian persecutors ! A terrible vengeance has come upon them for their cruel treatment of Christ and the early Christians Thank heaven, the days of religious persecution in England are nearly past ! CHAPTEE IX. THE ARISTOCRACY. THE aristocracy of England boast much of their descent from the Normans. The Normans were rapacious conquer- ors, and destitute of anything like Christian morality. They were moreover descended from the Danes, a barbarous race cf people. The history of England shows clearly that what- 'jver in that country is good and noble, has been earned by the common people. The civil and religious liberties of the nation were demanded and obtained by the people ; its glory in arms ; its still more brilliant fame in letters — everything worth preserving has sprung from the people. The aristocracy has been always the deadly enemy of liberty, and has always oppressed, and now oppresses the people. Says that great man, Eichard Cobden : — " I warn the Aristocracy not to force the people to look into the subject of taxation, — not to force them to see how they have been robbed, plundered, and bamboozled lor ages by them." Says John Bright, Cobden's coadjutor : — *' I hope the day will arrive when the English people will throw off the burdens with which they are oppressed by this Aristocracy, and stand forth the bravest, the freest, and the most virtuous people on the face of the earth." The people are ground into the earth by taxation, which does not, as it ought, fall upon property. The enormous debt THE AKISTOCRACY. 189 of England was incurred by English aristocrats. In 1696 the ministers of William of Orange proposed the bold and in- iquitous scheme of borrowing money at ruinous rates of inter- est, and saddling the debt upon the unborn generations of Britain. The aristocracy to wage war against liberty abroad, in one hundred and fifty years incurred a debt of eight hun- dred and thirty-four millio7is pounds sterling I The con- sequence was that provisions rose in price, that taxation be- came oppressive, while at the same time the common people were not allowed the privileges of citizenship, which is the case at present. The reader can scarcely imagine the extent of the rapacity of the English nobles. An enormous list of aristocrats are pensioned upon the Government. We will merely give a few samples : Earl Cowper has a hereditary pension of $6,000 Lord Colchester " " 15,000 Viscount Canning " " 15,000 Duke of Grafton " " 50,000 Duke of Manchester " " 10,000 Duke of Marlborough " " 20,000 Duke of Wellington " " 20,000 These are not a moiety of the whole number of pensioners Every ex- Ambassador has a pension for life ; there are legal pensions amounting yearly to hundreds of thousands of dollars. Every ex-Chancellor receives for life $25,000 a year. But perhaps the most iniquitous of all the pensions are those taken out of the Post Office revenue, and given to the heirs of Charles II. 's bastard children ; the sum annually amounting to $100,000 ! The Government Offices are monopolized by the aristocracy, and have, as a matter of course, attached to them enorm ma salaries, "The following are only a specimen : 190 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. Salary. Lord Chancellor $75,000 Vice Chancellor 30,000 Chief Justice, aueen'sj Bench 40,000 Chief Clerk, ditto . . . . . . 45,000 Chief Justice, Common Pleas 40,000 Lord Chancellor of Ireland 40,000 Lord Lieutenant of Ireland 100,000 Governor General of Bengal 125,000 Home Secretary .... ..... 25,000 Colonial Secretary 25,000 Chief Baron of Exchequer 35,000 Master of^ Rolls 35,000 These are specimens of the salaries attached to Govern- ment Offices, all of which are in the hands of the aristocracy. And yet the people laid the foundation of English free in- stitutions — and the aristocracy tried to destroy them. The people have earned money, and the aristocracy have spent it. The people planted America, and the aristocracy lost it. The people pay the interest upon the National Debt, and the aristocracy invented it ! THE NOBLES. The English Aristocracy is, however, in point of morality and virtue, superior to that of any country in Europe. There can be no doubt of this we think. Not by any means are all of its members virtuous, but the general tone of aristocratic society in England is higher than on the continent. There are cases of notoriety where a worse than French morality is openly professed, but they are exceptions. The majority of English noblemen are quite respectable in their outward con- duct, and some of them are worthy of being held up as mod- THE ARISTOCRACY. 191 els of true gentlemen the. world over. But when you have given the class credit for common morality, you are done. They are not philanthropists, they are not workers — in fact they do nothing which is good, their great aim being pleas ure. As a body they stand aloof from the rest of the world, superior to the vulgar herd in their own estimation, and are enormous consumers, but no producers. Generally speaking, the members of the aristocracy are finely educated, have a cultivated love for the fine arts, and patronize men of genius. In this manner they, without in- tending it, do some good, for they give to learning and genius an importance which they would lack, in the eyes of the world, without their patronage. But they never use their own talents to any purpose — if they are blessed with any, which is not often the case. It is intensely disagreeable for a nobleman to work — to accomplish anything. Of course we speak of hereditary nobles — not of those who have earned their titles. Still a certain kind of good results from this in- activity on the part of the nobles. It being entirely out of character for them to work, to trade, to paint, to write, or act as philanthropists, as a natural result they devote their ener- gies to themselves, and their homes. They employ the finest architects to build castles in which to dwell ; have created the most beautiful parks ; purchase paintings and statuary ; study constantly how they may beautify and improve their homes. Selfishness is at the root of it all, but notwithstand- ing that, a benefit of a certain kind accrues to the country and people. It begets a love for the beaut'ful, seduces the national mind away from its devotion to cold trade and com- merce. But the good by no means compensates for the evil produced by the same class, and such an aristocracy is a dear one for any country. The nobles as a class are noted for generosity, and yet there are exceptions, one of which we will mention. 192 AVHAT I SAW IN LONDON. There is a certain Duke in England who is notorious foi his parsimony. A more selfish man does not exist. Often when at his ccnntry-seat, with his own hands he sells milk to the countFy-j>eople, and on a certain occasion received a pungent rebiike from a little girl. One morning the daugh- ter of poor parents, a young girl, came for a penny's worth of -^^A^, S.E.d the Duke, being in his dairy-house, measured out a small quantity into the little girl's cup, saying : " You can tell the world as long as you live, that a Duke once measured out for you a cup of milk I" " Yes," answered the innocent girl, looking wistfully at the copper coin which the Duke had received from her, and which now lay in his palm, " Yes — but you took the penny /'^ There are cases of open libertinism among the nobility, which would shock the reader — but still the general outward conduct of the Enghsh nobles is good. The women are how- ever far superior to the men in virtue, beauty, and sympa thy for the poor. Some of the ladies among the aristocracy, while in Paris, imitate the French women, and have their train of lovers, but it is foreign to the nature of an Enghsh woman to carry on an intrigue, and when she attempts it she generally fails. It constitutes the hfe of many French ladies, and their expertness in concealing secret love from the eyes f a careful mother or a jealous husband is surprising ; but he English woman, though she lacked principle, has not the exquisite tact of the Parisian. The women among the nobility are distinguished for theii beauty, and with good reason. In matiy instances, however, their beauty is more masculine than that of the American women. We once met in an anteroom of the Italian Opera House THE ARISTOCRACY. 103 one of the oost distinguished beauties of England. .^ Said outf friend in a wliisper : " Do you see the lady yonder arranging a shawl — and the gentleman at her side ?" " Yes." " They are Lord and Lady H- !" " You must be mistaken," we replied, ''that woman can- not be Lady H ." But our friend was correct. We had often heard much of her beauty, and indeed she Avas beauti- ful, but there was no spirituality in her features, no intellect, but a rough, sensual beauty. Such is the case with some of the English female aristocracy, but as a class, in beauty we think they are peerless At least as an aristocratic class of females they are so. There is an exquisite dignity in their manners one rarely sees out of England, and they have the art of preserving their beauty to old age. This is a striking characteristic of the female beauty of England — it does not decay until old age. Beautiful women at fifty years of age are no uncommon sight in London. The Duchess of Sutherland is, though old, yet a very beau- tiful woman. We saw her one day in a carriage with the Queen, and could hardly believe that there is a wide differ- ence in years between them, which is the fact. For many years she was considered the most beautiful woman at court. There are several women whose names we might mention, who are noted for their great beauty, among the English fe- male aristocracy, but we are not attempting to sketch the belles of London. Aristocracy in England is much more dignified than that of America — for it is useless denying that we have an aristoc- racy. Ours is as yet puny, young and not oppressive. The English aristocracy has at least an excuse for existence, as it is incorporated with the Constitution, and if it be more highly ^ 13 194 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. intellectual than ours, it is a thousand times more cruel in iU exactions. Aristocracy in America is a plaything yet — the great peojne laugh at it, knowing that real power is theirs in all political matters. Feeling thus, they care little about the pretensions t)f any family, or clique of I'amilies. There is no throne to endanger — no manner in which any such family or families can endanger the liberties of the land, for a band of shoe- makers in a country-village are their equals in the eye of the law. A sorry sight it is wlien the aristocracy of the land, instead of being the plaything of the people, make a play- thing of the people, eating out their incomes, starving them by terrible taxation, and stealing away their political rights. Such is the case, to a degree, in England. But there are men among the English nobility who are worthy of honor. The Earl of Carlisle is such a rnan, and his noble qualities are such, that we shall venture to draw bin portrait on another page. Lord Ashley is widely known for his untiring philanthropy Though a bigoted man in some respects, he is devotedly pious, and is constantly engaged in some good work. He is known extensively lor his devotion to the cause of Ragged-Schoo'.s. Himself and lady are in high repute with the Q/Ueen. In looks Lord Ashley is Norman ; he is a fair speaker, and has enthusiasm, a quality which the English nobles generally eschew. Not a shade of enthusiasm is ever perceptible in the oratory displayed in the House of Lords. Anything approach- ing to it is considered decidedly vulgar. The Earl of Arundel and Surrey is a devoted Christian, though a Roman Catholic, and compares favorably \vith many of the nobles who profess Protestantism. His devotion to his tehgion amounts almost to fanaticism. Lord Dudley Stuart is an ardent liberalist, and is chiefly irjiowii for his devotion to the cause of Poland. He was the THE AKISJOCRACY 195 champion of Kossuth before he landed in England, and is also now. He is a firm friend to liberty, and is an unpleasant thorn in the side of my Lord Palmerston, the Foreign Secre- tary. He is a member of Parliament, and is much respected. Sir William Molesworth is a thorough radical, and there are others among the titled class M'ho are like him. It is because of such men that the nobles are held in such esteem in England. Were they openly to profess immoral principles, like some of the nobles of Europe, and were they in conduct to become corrupt, they could not stand a year. Indeed, as it is, their position is far from being a stable one. Gradually the people are attacking their privileges, and they thus far have had the good sense to bow quietly before the will of the nation. Had they, in the days of the Reform Bill Agitation, or Anti-Corn Law excitement, remained firm, they would have been swept away by Revolution. The spirit of the age is against such a class — against its unjust usurpations of power. A member of the humble classes of society cannot gain admittance into noble society. Any man of business, of trade, unless a great and exceedingly wealthy man, and worth his millions, cannot enter the drawing-rooms of the nobility. An author of talent can go there ; so can a man of political im- portance, or your millionaire, if refined and educated, but no common man of business. Still every young man can hope to rise above his present position, and if successful, he can re- linquish his business, and with a million of dollars set up for a gentleman, if he possesses refinement, and then he can walk into Lord Addlehead's parlor. A friend of ours, an English merchant, one day pointed out to us one of the wealthiest men in London, as a person who was once his father's boot-black I He rose from his humble calling first to be a clerk ; then he amassed a small property bv close economy, and at an early age began to speculate in 196 WHAT I SAAV IN LONDON. the Stocks. In a few years he became immensely rich, retired from business, and set up for a gentleman. He was by nature polite and intelligent, and soon married the daughter of a reduced baronet, a woman very celebrated for her beauty. Jle was now welcome to tbe best of society, but through the^ xtravagant conduct vi his wife he was nearly ruined. Suoh was her desperate fondness for a gay life, that only a few nights after a confinement she went to the theatre — and died two days after. After her death, the husband once mors re- paired to the Stock Exchange, to repair his damaged fortune. The first day he netted $45,000 I After winning a second fortune, larger than the first, he again retired from business, and entered high society. But though there are occasionally such cases in England, the pressure is downward, and the majority of enter}>rising minds are crushed to the earth. The tendency of the mon- archical and aristocratical system is to keep the masses degraded, to isolate a few from all the rest, to crush talent and genius among the multitude. Literary men do not have the position that they deserve, though they are honored, per- haps more than any other class of men who are mere com- moners, EARL OF CARLISLE There are really so few lovable characters among the English nobility, that we plead no excuse for devoting a short space to the Earl of Carlisle, who is truly worthy of honor and renown, for his admirable qualities. Such a man, whether he springs from a hamlet or palace, whether his name is simple or garnished with lofty-sounding titles, de- serves to be held up for the imitation of the world. Such men, we have observed, whatever their social position, are not prcMcL. Believing in the worth of the soul, in the dig- THE ARISTOCRACY. 197 nity of simple manhood, they cannot be proud of mere titles, or garters. The Earl of Carlisle sits in the House of Lords, and is well known as an advocate of Liberalism. He was formerly (and is even now better known as) Lord Morpeth, until at the death of his father, when he became a peer of the realm, through hereditary right, and took his seat in the House of Lords. He belongs to one of the noblest families in the king- dom, that of the Howards, whose blood, according to English notions, is perhaps the purest and gentlest in the land. He is also connected by marriage with the Houses of Eutland, Caudor, Durham, and Stafford. Among the aristocracy of England no one stands higher than the Earl of Carlisle, and at the same time he is universally popular with the middle and lower classes. There is a genial love for him every- where, principally because of his mild and philanthropic dis- position. As a matter of course his advocacy of liberal sen- timents makes him popular with the people, and perhaps slightly disliked among the worst portion of the nobility. He is a friend of authors and artists, and in society does not ex hibit any of that odious exclusiveness which disgraces m, many of the English aristocrats. He seems to be above no man of real goodness or genius and in a thousand ways has testified his love of humanity In a public speech he once happily spoke of Charles Dickens, as : — " That bright and genial nature, the master of our sunni- est smiles, and our most unselfish tears, whom, as it is impos- sible to read without the most ready and pliant sympathy, i is impossible to know (I at least have found it so) without a depth of respect and a warmth of affection "which a singular union of rare qualities alike command." For many years Lord Morpeth (or the Earl of Carlisle) sat in Parliament for the West Riding, the largest and most hon- 198 WHAT 1 SAW IN LONDON. orable constituency in England, but in 1841, strangely, he was defeated, to the great sorrow of the whole nation. A plenty of other places were open to him, but he refused to sit for any of them, and made a tour to America, where he made many admirers and friends both at the South and North. In Washington circles he will long be remembered. On the death of Lord Wharncliffe a vacancy occurred in the AYest R-iding, and Lord Morpeth was returned to Parlia- ment without the opposition of a single voter. E-ichard Cobden, the great champion of Free Trade, sits in the House of Commons for the West Riding at present, Lord Morpeth being in the House of Lords, having assumed the titles of his late father, the Earl of Carlisle. Through his whole political life he has been identified with the Liberal- Whig party, early giving in his adhesion to Cob- den's Free Trade movement. Since 1846 he has been a member of the E-ussell Ministry, and is well known as an en- ergetic friend of all sanitary reforms. His philanthropy is unquestionable, as he is very zealous in endeavoring to better the condition of the laboring population of Great Britain. When a man is zealous for freedom's cause abroad, but not at his own doors, one may well doubt his sincertty, but the Earl of Carlisle is anxious to improve the condition of his fellow-men in England. He does not hesitate to deliver lec- tures before common Mechanics' Institutes, and aids all edu- cational schemes. He is a man of talent, and a very eloquent speaker, and can make himself acceptable to common men, and also to the best educated men, for his best speeches are noted for the classical purity of their style. At a great dinner, given by the Mayor of London, before the Crystal Palace was built, and in honor of the (then) pro- posed project, the Earl of Carlisle, when called on for a toast, gave " The working-men of the United Kingdom" in connec- tion with the great Exhibition of the Industry of the World, THE ARISTOCRACl'. 191^ and made a most eloquent speech in honor of those men who are the true glory of any land. We have often heard radicals in London who detest the aristocracy root and branch, speak enthusiastically in his praise as an exception to the rest. He is indeed an extraor- dinary man. It is extraordinary in Europe to find a man born to the highest titles, yet a simple-hearted philanthropist. Such a man stands out in hold relief from the great mass of the selfish English noblemen, and teaches us how much good they might accomplish if they were so disposed. The personal appearance of the Earl of Carlisle is good. When the stranger looks down upon him from the gallery in the gorgeous House of Lords, he at once selects him from among his peers, by his appearance, as the noblest of them all. He has a fine, full forehead ; full, pleasant face ; rich lips ; and a mild pair of eyes. His hair is generally careless- ly disposed, giving him an artless look, which is captivating. His dress is generally rich, but at the same time plain. It is vulgar in England to dress showily. The passion for gaudy dress, which possesses so many people, is entirely condemned among the nobles of England. Plainness of attire is prover bial in such circles. When speaking the Earl does not use much gesticulation, but what he does is graceful and true to nature. Since his return to England from America, he has in two or three public lectures stated some of his opinions of our country, its men, and institutions, and they show his thorough liberality of sentiment. He is far more just towards us than tnany profound English radicals. He speaks fairly of our voluntaryism in religion, and of universal suffrage. In speak- ing of public men, he calls Henry Clay the most fascinating public man he ever knew, save Mr. Canning ; Mr. Legare of South Carolina (who died a few years since), he thinks was one of the best classical scholars in America, and John Q,uincv 200 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. Adams " was truly an ' old man eloquent I' " Congresp At characterizes as "disorderly," at times, and as he witnessed some exciting scenes while in Washington, that is not to be wondered at. As a whole, the Earl of Carlisle is a man whose character is an honor to any country, and especially so to the order to which he belongs. If there were more such men among the aristocracies of Europe, there would be no danger of bloody revolutions, for Revolution is the daughter of Oppression. LORO BROUGHAM. Perhaps there is no man in England about whom there is such a strong curiosity among strangers as Lord Brougham. His reputation has been so great and wide, his connection with political matters so notorious, that when the foreigner enters the House of Lords he first asks for Brougham. But when he is pointed out, when you gaze upon the man, yov are wo fully disappointed. What ! — that man the Ex-Chan- cellor Brougham, upon whose face, lips, nose, cheeks, and chin seem all crowded together ? That man who cannot sit still for five consecutive minutes ; who jumps "up contin- ually with interruptions of the speaker ; v/ho has a painful, nervous twitching of the face ; the man, in short, who im- presses you with the idea of some harmless lunatic ? Yes— that certainly is the wreck of the great Brougham. For we believe that none of his best friends contend that he now pos- sesses all the faculties which he once possessed. Age has rusted out some of them, and there are people who believe the man insane. We presume not, however. He is certain- ly very erratic, incomprehensible, without Christian principles, and yet a great genius still. He is the wonder of the nation, though the nation no longer loves him. no longer is charmed with his siren eloquence. But because of great services he THE ARISTOCRACY. 20 i once rendered, because he once sunk upon his knees in the House of Lords, and, in tones of wondrous magic, plead for the cause of freedom ; because he once dared to say there — in reference to the influence of the Q,ueen over the mind ol the King — those remarkable antl daring words : " She has done it all /" — the people of England, though he has desert- ed them, will not entirely forget him. There was perhaps never a commoner in England, with more ambition than Harry Brougham. He asked place and power with the \ximo&i sang froicL The Government wished his services, and offered him as respectable a post as they thought it wise and proper to give a mere commoner. He replied to the offer of the Premier, that he would not take such an office. " What do you wish ?" was the question of the surprised Minister. " Nothing or the Lord Chancellorship !" was the reply. This was one of the highest offices in the kingdom, and the occupant must by virtue of his oflice become the Speaker of the House of Lords, and of course a peer of the realm. But Brougham was a mere commoner. "You are not a peer," said the Prime Minister. " I know that," was Brougham's laconic reply. Before night he was made not only a peer, but Lord Chan- cellor. The Government could not afford to lose him, as he was the great idol of the people, and so it bribed him over to the cause of the aristocracy. Only a few days before at a great public meeting. Brougham denied a rumor that he was to be made a peer, and told the people never to believe that he would desert them until they saw it. They did see it, and will never forget the base desertion. Ever since, he has been detested by the masses of the nation, and it would seem as if then he lost his greatest powers, for since he has been a peevish, erratic old man — and yet at times, his mighty genius I* 202 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. will break forth, and astonish the nation. Perhaps this ag© can boast no other man who has the varied acquirements of Brougham. He hag been one of the world's greatest orators; IS a great lawyer ; a severe student of the physical sciences ; and a skilful political economist Mr. Brougham was born in Scotland, and was admitted to the Scottish l-ar in the year 1800. In 182G he was appointed Attorney-General to the unfortunate Gtueen Caroline, and made a speech which lasted two days, in her defence, so eloquent, so masterly, that Lord LiverjDool abandoned the prosecution against her Majesty. For many years, plain Henry Brougham sat. in the House of Commons. He was elected Lord Rector of the Glasgow University by the casting vote of Sir James Macintosh, in opposition to Sir Walter Scott, the great poet and novelist. He nov/ enjoys a pension of $25,000 a year as retired Chancellor ; is a Pri\y Council- lor ; President of the London University ; and a member of the National Institute of France, where— at Carmes — he has a country-seat. He is a strange character. Just after the French Revolu- tion of 1848, he applied to the French Government, to be made a citizen of the republic, and yet all the while a member of the House of Lords in England I All Europe was in laughter at his foolery. Yet it was a fair sample of the man. He seems insane upon some points. He sometimes dresses foj)pishly, and then again as carelessly as any mechanic in the streets. Yet he is not demented — he possesses a violent love for eccentricity and originality. He has before now attacked himself in one newspaper, and defended himself in another I A thousand smgular stories are current in London society respecting him ; some invalidating his reputation for intellect, and others his morality. Enough of them are true to give countenance to the rest, and thus he is obliged to shoulder a greater amount of obloquy than he m reality deserves. CHAPTER X. JOURNALISM. The Times. There is perhaps no single town in the world which executes BO great an amount of printing as London. There are many places, where there are more newspapers, daily and weekly, but when we include all manner of periodicals and books, London must stand at the head of the world. We think too, that nowhere else has journalism become so brilliant and lofty a profession. Tiie London daily papers are the ablest in the world, so far as mere writing talent is concerned. And first of all, towering far aboYe all the rest in stature and importance as a daily paper of magnificent editorial-talent, stands the London Times. It is what it has once styled itself — the leading journal of Europe, the journal which is read everywhere, from the Mississippi to the Ganges. Whatever people may believe as the principles of the paper, all are agreed in one point— that it is the mightiest intellectual engine in the world ; if bad, then mightily dangerous It is printed and published in Printing House Square, a quiet place in London, and a visit to the establishment is well worth the while of any American. Everything in its vast apartments is conducted v/ith precision and wonderful dispatch, and one is struck with admiration to see how quietly so vast a machine can perform its gigantic labor. 204 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. A thousand fingers, a thousand pens in all parts of the earth, the railway engines, steamers, and the lightning are constantly at work to feed this great leviathan. It has a host of editors, and regularly paid contributors ; it has able corres- pondents everywhere — at Paris, Berlin and Vienna, it keeps men — often, we are sorry to say, to fabricate untruths — whose sole business is to furnish matter for its columns. It has reporters almost without number — some travelling and others stationary. Every word spoken in either House of Parlia- ment, at night, appears in the next morning's Times. Not an occurrence anywhere escajes its quick ear, unless it chooses not to hear. It has steamers of its own, and often charters steam-engines, and almost monopolizes the electric telegraph. It pays for its matter most liberally, as it can well afford to do. It chief editor receives a princely salary, and all of its contributors are remunerated in a splendid manner. We know of one man, a conscientious and learned English Professor, who was a few years since seduced by old Mr. Walter, into writing a few articles for the paper, but upon his insisting on paying him in a princely fashion, the honest Professor stopped his communications — it seemed to him so much like bribery ! As a property the Times, is one of the best in Europe, and could not be purchased to-day for millions of dollars. It has an immense circulation, but its income does not come from that, so much as from its advertising patronage. That is immense, for every day it publishes a supplement entirely devoted to advertisements which alone is as large as the usual papers, and this is oYten doubled. The charges for advertising, too, are higher in London than here, while composition and press-work are cheaper. It is stated that old Mr. Walter, the father of the present principal proprietor, gave his daughter for a marriage present, a single advertising column of the paper, and that it was really in itself a pretty fortune For JOURIS'ALISM. 206 talent, energy, and consummate abilities this leviathan sheet stands at the head of journalism in Europe. As a mere iieivii sheet we do not admire it, for it is in that department sur- passed by the Daily News, but in the splendor of its editorials, as far as talent and genius go, it has, perhaps we may safely say, no equal in the world. But we have said all that ca,n be said in its favor. There is another and a darker side to be looked at. There does not exist in Europe a more unprincipled journal than the Times. Tliere is no sheet which will sell itself so quick, body and soul, for gold. It does not even profess consistency — it reflects the times — save when a millionaire, or a foreign despot bribes it, for then it will fight against the current of public opinion. It is owned by a set of speculators whose entire and sole object is to make money by the concern. They therefore advocate that which will pay best, and principles are good or bad with them according as they are iiecuniarily profitable. When Cobden's great Anti-Corn-Law Agitation commenced, the Times ridiculed and abused it. But the nation took the question up in earnest, and that journal saw that it surely^ must triumph. Commercial men began to withdraw adver- tising patronage. On Saturday morning the paper came out opposed entirely and thoroughly to Free Trade — on Monday morning it hoisted the colors of the Anti-Corn-Law League without a single word of apology. Every item in the paper which had a bearing upon the subject, was in favor of Free Trade, and an utter stranger upon taking up the sheet, would have supposed it to be an old advocate of its new opinions, England, though accustomed to its pranks, was thunderstruck Its unprincipled character is best seen in the department for foreign news. It is steadily — the only thing it is steady m — the enemy of human liberty in Europe. Its continental news can never be trusted, such is its propensity to prevari- cate. It has not hesitated for a moment to com the basest 20G WHAT I SAW IN LONDON, lies against Mazzini and Kossuth. Its course ir. this matte * has aroased the indignation of univergal Christendom. Mr. Cobden, in an eloquent speech in reference to its course against the poor exiles said : ** How shall we describe those indescribable monsters who, when foes are fallen — when they are gone into exile — when they are separated from their wives and children — when they are shiTering in our streets, brought down from lofty places to heg their bread in the midst of winter—how shall AVe de- scribe the wretches who are base enough to traduce thg character of these men ? I spoke of ghouls and vampires. They prey upon corpses and the material body ; but we have no monster yet by which we can describe the nature of him who lives by destroying the character of a fallen foe." During the spring of 1851, the Times per-sisted in stating that Mazzini was in Genoa, carrying out his revolutionary projects. Day after day it reiterated this statement, and yet we knev/ that he was in London. At a later day it acknowl- edged his return, and pretended to give a report of his speech at a public dinner. In the report occurred the following sen- tence :—" For the Emperor I would substitute the people — for the Pope Nature'"' Here was a deliberate, premeditated lie, for Mazzini said, " For the Emperor I would substitute the people— for the Pope God l" The object of the Times was to prejudice the English mind against the Italian hero, by making him out to be an infidel in religious matters. But the course of that paper in reference to Kossuth, has damaged it perceptibly in sale and reputation, and the Engli&h people will never forgive it for its base conduct. We have it upon excellent authority, that in the height of the French Revolution, the' Paris correspondent of the Times came to London in hot haste, saying to the proprietors : " I cannot pursue my present course of misrepresentation any longer v»^ith personal safety l" The uuprincipled but talented JOURNALISM. 207 gentlemar was kept in London doing nothing on a full salary, until there M'as a turn in the tide of French politics, when he was sent back to his infamous work. One of the strongest facts which the history of this sheet unfolds, is that the best talent of Europe is always for sale, for or against despotism. AlthoDgh that paper changes as often as the wind, it is not often obliged to change its contributors. With the easy prin- ciples of the members of the legal profession, they write for pay, and whether their client be in the right or wrong, it matters very little with them, so long as the remuneration is princely ! DAILY PKESS. Few in America are aw^are of the exceeding difficulty of establishing a daily joiirnal in Great Britain. There are only six or eight in the whole kingdom, and all but one or two of those are published in London. It is strange, but Liverpool with 400,000 people, has not a single daily newspaper, and Manchester, with a still larger population, is in the same con- dition. One reason for this is, that London, by railway, is brought very near to all provincial towns, and the dailies of the metropolis are read all over the kingdom. The Times, Daily Neivs, Morm?ig, Chronicle, and Po$t, are scattered everywhere over the land in a few hours, by the espress- trains, and it is almost impossible to keep up a daily paper in a provincial town, with local news, and all else is brought the quickest thioDgh the metropolitan journals. The duty on paper is heavy in England, which, added to the specific news- tax of one penny, or two cents, upon every sheet, amounts to a terrible burden ijpon the newspapers. Every newspaper in the kingdom must pay into the coffers of the government tw^o cents for its every sheet, This makes the risk of those who attempt the publication of nev/ journals exceedingly great. The well-established journals like the tax, for it crushes aK 208 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. competition. This is the reason why The Times opposes the abolition of the stamp-tax on papers — if it were swept away, instantly a hundred cheap dailies would spring into existence over the country, and it would probably lose a share of its present immense patronage. There is a duty of fifty cents upon every advertisement in any newspaper or periodical in England, so that very few people in business advertise through the periodicals. Almost every conceivable method is resorted to on account of this tax, to advertise to the world without touching the papers. Great vans parade the streets with prnited inscriptions upon them ; men, encompassed with boards, upon which are written flaming advertisements, and even dogs perambulate the streets. Small bills are thrust into your hands at every corner — so that the tax almost amounts to prohibition of newspaper advertising. There has been expended upon the Daily Neivs, to make it pay for itself, over half a million of dollars, and even now it is not considered excellent property. Large numbers of shares are bought by men who wish to keep up a liberal daily paper in London, and who purchased the stock, not so much expecting good returns as desiring to uphold Liberalism. A few years ago, a gentleman of large property in London, attempted to establish a daily newspaper. Everything was done to make it successful that could be done ; not a stone was left unturned — yet after three months it perished, and its owner lost with it £30,000 I He had the num.bers splen- didly bound, and wheneve*- after that any friend of his talked of starting a newspaper, he led him by the arm to his book- case, and taking out the volume said, " That is my news- paper ; it lived three months ; cost £30,000 !" Still later, an attempt was made by a powerful firm to establish a liberal daily paper, under the name cf " The London Telegraph," but after a hard struggle of three montlis duration, it died. JOURNALISM. 209 The Daily Neiv^ is, perhaps, the next paper in London in importance to the Times It is more thoroughly liberal in tone and manner than the latter ; still, like all the other London dailies, it cannot be trusted in its foreign news. All London newspapers in this respect are untrustworthy. The editor-chief of the Daihj News, is a man of fair abilities and generous sentiments, but does not sympathize heartily with the democracy of Europe. It is, however, very far superior to the Times as a journal of news. It never prevaricates, and the only reason why it is not wholly to be trusted in its continental matter, arises from the fact, that its sympathies are not strong enough for republicanism, and it sometimes re- ports things against the character of the republicans, which they believe to be. true, but which are not in reality. It never, however, becomes the tool of despotism for pay. The Morning Chronicle is, and always has been celebrated for the peculiar literary talent displayed in its columns. Charles Dickens, or " Boz," became first known to the world through its columns, and Henry Mayhew wrote in it his cele- brated letters upon the English Poor. It is exceedingly con servative on some questions, but possesses talent, and a fair circulation. The Morning Post is the special organ of the kid-gloved aristocracy ; is full of fulsome adulation of nobles, and never admits anything into its columns which can possibly oflend the eye of an aristocrat. It possesses little ability, and gen- erally goes in England by the name of " Mrs. Gamp," one of Mr. Dickens' celebrated characters in fiction. The Mornhig Advertiser is owned by the Licensed Vict- uallers Association, and is taken in by every victualler in London and ti,e country. It therefore has a steady circula- tion ; and it is generally favorable to freedom. The Globe is at present the organ of Lord Palmerston, and is a fair paper, though it has a moderate circulation. It re* 14 210 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. ceives official news in advance of other journals, and this fact has aroused the ire of the Times, and it takes every oppor- tunity td revenge itself upon the Foreign Secretary, Lord Paimerston. WEEKLY PRESS. Tlie Examiner is at the head of the London weekly news- papers. As a literary and political critic it has no superior in the world. Its wit and talent are of the first order — its sentiments are liberal. It is more than forty years since it was established, and it has ever preserved a high character as a weekly journal of politics and literature. John and Leigh Hunt owned it for many years ; and while under the editorial charge of Leigh Hunt it acquired great popularity and repu- tation. Mr. Hunt was admitted on all hands to be the most accomplished dramatic critic of his age, and made the Exafn- iner popular with all drama-loving people. While its editor, he wrote a paragraph reflecting somewhat upon the charac- ter of the Prince Regent, and was thrown into jail. He had his room papered, and a piano introduced, and when Byron and Moore visited him, was happy as a lark. Hazlitt, and Keats, and Shelley, used to contribute literary articles to the Examiner v/hile under the editorship of Mr. Hunt. It then had a circulation of between seven and eight thousand, and paid well. After Hunt's death it passed into the hands of tho celebrated Mr. Foublanque, under whose control it has ever since remained He is one of the most brilliant writers of the age. His articles are sought after by all classes — Tories and Whigs Mr. Foublanque is something of a lion in literary circles ; he is in personal appearance bad-looking. He is in- tellectual, but his long, black hair, which lies negligently over his splendid forehead, his cavernous eyes, and carelessness in dress, make him unpopular as a gentleman, but the brilliancy JOURNALISM. 211 of his intellect, and the keenness of his wit, gain for him an entrance into the very best society. Whenever the Examiner gets into a public discussion, however provoking an adversary may conduct, it always pre- serves its temper. It is provokingly cool on such occasions. What would set any one else on fire, only provokes its wit But if it never is passionate, it is revengeful — it devours an enemy, not voraciously, but slowly and delightfully ! John Forster is the literary and critical editor of the Ex- ammer. For many years he has filled that post with distin- guished ability. He has in the meantime written several books, which have gained for him a good reputation as an author. He is generally j ust in his criticisms of American works. The Sunday DUimich has the largest circulation of any weekly paper in England — nearly one hundred thousand. It is devoted to politics, news, and general literature. It is an interesting paper, though not eminent for the ability displayed in its editorial columns. The Mark Lane Exjoress is a commercial paper, and has special reference in its articles to Mark Lane transactions in corn. John Wilson, M. P., is its present editor, and although from his connection v/ith Government, he is not to be trusted in political matters, yet the paper is noted for its abilities. The United Service Gazette is a military paper, wel! known by military men in America. For a long time it was under the editorial control of Alaric de Watts, who is a pow- erful writer. We chanced to meet him one evening at the house of a mutual friend, and thought we never before had seen so savage a looking man in London. He has a large head, which is covered with rough, black hair ; his body is athletic, his arras sinewy and strong, and he looks as if more capable of fighting than writing. But his articles are like his frame, massive, and full of strength. 212 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. The Literary Gazette was a few years since a weekly paper of considerable note in London. It was published by the Longmans, the wealthy book-publishers ; and while it was under the editorial management of Mr. Jerdan, it con- tributed much towards the fame of Robert Montgomery and Letitia E. Landon. Li attempting to publish the work him- self, Mr. Jerdan finally became a bankrupt. The Athe^icBimi has an excellent standing as a literary and critical journal. It was established sixteen years since, by John Stirling and James Silk Buckingham, and when its circulation had declined to four hundred, it was purchased by the present proprietor, Mr. Dilke, whose business talents are not surpassed by any man's in London. He expended thou- sands in advertising and purchasing the best of talent for his journal, and was eminently successful. Its proprietor was one of the commissioners of the Great Exhibition, and was offered the honor of knighthood, which he had the manliness to decline. The Q,ueen sent to his wife a diamond bracelet in token of his services. The character of Punch is well known in America. It is almost the only successful journal of wit in the world, and it owes its circulation to its eminent ability both in literary mat- ter and artistic illustration. It is a fine speculation, and well rewards its enterprising publishers — Messrs. Bradbury and Evans. There are several other journals, religious, political, and news, but we have mentioned the most important of all. There are weekly journals which evade the stamp-duty, by excluding all current news, and which are published at a cheap rate. Some of them are the vehicles of the most de- graded literature and morality, but not all. CHAPTER XI. THE QUEEN AND PRINCE ALBERT. The portraits of Glueen Victoria, seen in this countiy, ar? generally correct and faithful likenesses. She is of medium height, clear complexion, and full in the face. It would be supererogatory for us to say that her subjects love her — in- deed there are thousands who have a gentle affection for her in America. She is eminently lovable, and certainly de- serves praise for filling her position so well as she does. She is surrounded by gorgeous temptations, and yet preserves a virtuous court. Her mother, the Duchess of Kent, gave her a most rigid early education, and that she needed it, with the blood of the effeminate and besotted Georges flowing in her veins, none can doubt. She inherited a predisposition to in- activity, and a nervous-lethargic temperament, and her saga- cious mother, to counteract it, obliged her in her youth to take a plenty of exercise in the open air, eat wholesome food, and sleep upon a hard mattress. The result is, that though possessed of an extremely delicate nervous organization, the Q,ueen enjoys good health. In disposition, she is said by those who know her, to be mild and loving. When young, she had a firm will, and if rumor speaks truly, it is a charac- teristic of her still. Upon some public occasion, when she was a girl, she was allowed by her mother to go for a few minutes to th3 window and gaze at the crowd of people in 214 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. the street. In a short time the Duchess called her away, but she did not heed the summons. Again the command was given, and unheeded, when her mother asked : " What are you gazing at ?" ''At my jpeojole!'' she answered, in a tone of pride and haughtiness. One morning while we were in London, the Clueen and Prince Albert visited Madame Tassaud's exhibition of wax- work, and orders were given, upon their entrance, to admit no visitors until their departure ; but an original specimen of a Cheshire farmer, by some unaccountable means got in, and knowing nothing of the presence of royal visitors, walked leisurely up to the wax group of the royal f;.mily, before which stood the real Q.ueen and Prince Albert. After gaz- ing at the wax group for awhile, the honest old farmer turned to his neighbors, whom he supposed to be ordinary visitors, and said : " Well, now, I doant think they be so very fine-looking after all — do you ?" At that moment the proprietor of the exhibition came up, exclaiming : " How came you here, sir ? Are you aware that you are addressing Her Majesty the Glueen ?" At the words, " Her Majesty," the old man's hat flew off, and his knees bent with a quickness that would surprise an unused republican. The E-oyal couple were much amused, and reassured the old farmer, who retired to boast, as long as he lives, of his interview with Prince Albert and Q,ueen Vic- toria I In economy, Victoria is said to be an adept, and in hei habits exceedingly exemplary. Her popularity is unbounded — everywhere she goes she is received with great demonstra* tions of applause. Prince Albert is a handsome man, and is quite popular of THE QUEEN AND PRINCE ALBERT. 215 late throughout England. His devotion to the Great Exhi- bition, and to several benevolent schemes, have contributed much towards his popularity. At heart he has many sympa- thies for the working-people. We had the good fortune last spring to see Her Majesty and the Prince, as they were on their way in their state-car riage to Parliament, and it was the most gorgeous spectacle of the kind which we ever witnessed. The day was a lovely one of early spring. The sky was blue, warm, and serene, the sun shone with splendor, and as we were stationed in Green Park, the acres of park around us were covered with bright-green grass. As early as twelve o'clock, the whole pathway from Buckingham Palace to the Houses of Parliament was crowded by people from all ranks of society. At a little before two o'clock, the Q,ueen came into the Park, preceded by bands of music, the Guards, and splendid carriages containing officers of state. She was drawn by six beautiful cream-colored horses, covered with brilliant trappings, and the state-carriage was truly magnifi- cent. The top was mainly of glass, so that the populace could have a fair view of Her Majesty. She was dressed in excellent taste ; her gown was of white brocade satin, trimmed with gold, and upon her head she wore a splendid tiara of dia- monds. She rose repeatedly and bowed to the people with exquisite grace. She is not a very beautiful woman, but there is after all a charming expression in her features, a gentle beauty which wins all hearts. Prince Albert was dressed in his military uni'brm, and j*ooked very well. The Duchess of Sutherland was in the carriage with the Glueen, and has for years been connected with the court. She is quite old, but still very beautiful. For many years she was considered the most beautiful woman at the English court, but at present we believe that honor is generally con- 216 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. ceded to the Marchioness of Douro. The Duchess is twenty years her superior in age. The Duke of Norfolk rode in the carriage also as Master of Horse. The Marquis of Westminster came sweeping past in his family carriage. He has the look of a genuine aristocrat- haughty, cold, and yet majestic. We could not help contrasting this royal pageant with the simpler ceremonies attendant upon the opening of our Con- gress. The President is open to all, but the Q,ueen is hedged round with grand ceremonies and etiquette, so that but few of her people can ever look at her, save in the open air on state-occasions. We have been sorry to see that certain American writers persist in saying that the Glueen is a woman of no intellect, and partially insane. We know from good authority that such statements are entirely devoid of truth, and if made in England, would expose their authors tf daughter and ridicule. Her Majesty is not a woman of extraordinary intellect, but she has good intellectual powers, and in some of the Fine Arts is skilful. Above all, she is strictly moral. That she occasionally is given to seasons of deep melancholy, is a well- know^n fact, and some have gone so far as to state the cause to be her early love for an English nobleman, whom, accord- ing to the Constitution, she could not marry. This story is probably not true, though before her marriage t is well known that she was quite intimate with a certain jiord, who has since banished himself from the kingdom. Her nervous temperament is frail, but to say that she is half-idiotic, or half-insane, is not only untrue, but a cruel misrepresentation of her state. The town residence of the Clueeu is Buckingham Palace, and was built by the architect Nash, under George IV., and it affords proofs of the imbecility of mind of both king and architect. It is universally condemned by all foreigners of THE QUEEN' AND FRINCE ALBERT. 2l7 taste; Von Raiimer declared that he would not accept d^free residence in it ; St. James' Palace is the place for parades, levees, and drawing-rooms, while Buckingham Palace is the domestic home of the royal family. The park from this palace looks finely at all seasons of the year. In the palace there are seven distinguished apartments — the Green Drawing- Room, the Throne Room, the Picture Gallery, the Yellow Drawing- Room, the Saloon, the Ball-Room, and the State Dining- Room. The Picture Room is at certain times accessible to the pub- lic, and is well worth the trouble of a visit. The paintings in it are by Titian, Rembrandt, Claude, Vandyke, Laurie, Wilkie, and other rare old masters. When the Glueen is absent, at Osborne or Windsor, by a proper card of introduc- tion almost any one, especially a foreigner, may view the dis- tinguished collection. The Throne Room is probably the richest in Buckingham Palace. Its walls of plated glass, its polished marble pillars and pavement, the gorgeous furniture, all of which is tem- pered by the light that is thrown over all most artfully, so as to elicit every species of richness, combine to make a dazzling room. In 1842 the Q,ueen held a grand Fancy Ball in this palace, and the court of Edward III. and Glueen Philippa was renewed. Its gorgeousness has scarcely ever been equalled, and will probably never be surpassed. Upon the occasion Her Majesty wore upon her stomacher alone three hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds. St. James' Palace was built in the fifteenth century, but since then has undergone many sweeping changes and addi- tions. It looks finer than Buckingham Palace, but is still in- ferior to the palaces of the Continent. Its drawing-room is the place where the Q,ueen holds all her levees, and is p splendid apartment. J CHAPTER XII. PARLIAMENT. HOUSE OF LORDS. The British building of the House of Lords has one of the finest interiors in Europe. We well remember the impres- sion it made upon us the first night we took our seat In its Gallery. The sight was most gorgeous, and for the moment we fancied, ourself.. gazing at some scene in the " Arabian Nights." The interior is spacious, and wears an air of dig- nified grandeur ; the light steals into it beautifully through stained windows ; the throne in the distance is of splendid material, and the walls are one mass of artistic beauty. It is very difficult to gain access to the building during the session of the House, as no one is admitted without a written order from a peer. We were fortunate enough to gain the name of the Earl of Jersey upon a bit of foolscap, and therefore walked boldly through scores of policemen and guardsmen into the presence of this body of hereditary law-makers. As we passed through the bands of these lacquey-in-waiting, we could not help contrasting everything we saw with corres- ponding things in America. There, all was pomp and cir- cumstance ; the House of Lords was guarded as if from an mfuriated mob. In this country a stranger enters the United States Senate without any writing of orders or nonsensical bustle, goes and comes when he pleases. In real, simple dig- rAR^.7MEXT. 219 iiity, the House of Lords will not compare for a moment with the American Senate, and the great reason is, that here a man must be possessed of some sort of talent or he cannot secure an election to that place, while in England the peers are horn to their position as law-makers. Of course they are as likely to be men of moderate abilities as common people, and generally speaking rather more so. The time we first entered the House of Lords the people of Paris were in the midst of Revolution. When we entered the Earl of Winchelsea v»'as speaking upon some insignific^t.:t question, and when he sat down we noticed that the peers present grew excessively noisy. The confusion increased, and soon we saw fresh newspaper sheets in the hands of several. The news soon flew to us in the Gallery — the King of the French had abdicated his tJirone ! Constei-nation was pic- tured upon every face, and we could not restrain our smiles. It was a scene for a painter ; the proud despots seemed for a mo- ment to catch a sight of the retribution which is in store for their wrongful usurpations. For, talk softly as we will, the system of hereditary rights in England is one of base injus- tice, and is only propped up by the sword and bayonet. The really talented men of the House of Lords — with a very few exceptions — are plebeian ; men who have been bribed over from the ranks of the per-ple by the ofTer of titles. Here lies a great secret in regard to English Heform. The nobility know exceedingly well when and how to bribe. Harry Brougham becomes Lord Brougham when his talents have become a terror to the aristocracy, and from that mo- ment he is an aristocrat. Men of talent cannot withstand the temptations of ofTice and titles, except in a few instances, among which Richard Cobden is an illustrious instance For he might have taken high office if he would, and with- out doubt might have a title for the asking, if there had been any hope of winning him to the pide of the aristocracy. 220 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. There are few really great men in the House of Lords There are Brougham, the lawyer ; Wellington, the warrior ; Campbell, the jurist-statesman ; the Marquis of Lansdowne, an enlightened Whig ; the Earl of Carlisle, formerly Lord Morpeth ; Earl Grey ; Lord Stanley, recently by the decease of his father become the Earl of Derby ; and perhaps among the ecclesiastics the Bishops of Norwich and Exeter. Lord Campbell is considered by some as the rival of Brougham in the Upper House, but while he is in the me- ridian of life, so far as ability and aptness go, the other is a mere wreck. There cannot be said to be rivalry, properly speaking, under such conditions. Both are Scotchmen md both have carved out their own fortunes, with their own hands. Lord Campbell is perhaps the ablest jurist in the kingdom ; as a statesman he ranks high, but not so high as some others in Parliament. He is a fine-looking man, with many Scotch characteristics, in countenance and actions. The Marquis of Lansdowne is a prominent member of the Whig Government, and an influential peer. He has for years been distinguished for his hereditary position and intel- lectual acquirements. He was once extremely good-looking, but is now touched by age, limping, when we saw him, with the gout. His speeches, though not brilliant, are yet replete with good argument, and candor. His sympathies are as much lor the people as one could expect, owing to his aristo- c citic position, and there is a visible difference between his definition of liberty and that of the Earl of Derby's. We once saw the Bishop of Norwich — since deceased — and the Bishop of Exeter in the House together. There was a striking difference between the two men. The former was a small man, with bright eyes, and a pleasa»it, amiable man- ner, and he was good, benevolent, and liberal. The latter had a narrow, contracted look, and is contracted in some things, but possesses vigorous talents, and a biting, cross satire. PARLIAMENT. 221 Earl Grey Is one of the finest-looking men in the Rouse. His personal appearance is classical, his speeches are models of parliamentary eloquence, and his influence over the peers is justly great. There is no other man there whose personal appearance, taking everything into consideration, is so good. When speaking, his figure appears to the greatest advantage. The popular engravings of him are generally correct, and in this respect he is a fortunate man. There are three men in Parliament whose portraits cannot fail to he correct, their features are so ludicrously striking. They are Brougham, WelHngton, and Russell. The first has such a compressed face, the second so beaked a nose, and the last so grannyish a face, that it is impossible to make a picture of either, and leave out the distinguishing feature. Lord Stanley — now Earl of Derby — is a bitter Tory, but after all one of the ablest men in the House. His appearance is good, though not remarkable. His speeches are character- ized by bitterness and prejudiced reasoning — yet he is a man of great talents. His hatred for Liberalism or Democracy is as vehement as his love for the system of Protection and Toryism. The House sits in two capacities — a legislative and a judi- cial. When judicial, it sits as the highest court of justice in the kingdom. On ordinary occasions, the only persons robed are the Lord Chancellor, who sits upon the Woolsack, the Bishops, the Judges, and the Masters of Chancery But when Parliament is opened or closed by the Q,ueen in person, the interior of the House of Lords presents a grand and bril- liant spectacle. All the peers are in their robes, and ladies of the highest rank are present — the peeresses in tlieir own right, and the wives and daughters of peers. Parliament is generally opened by commission, which is a tame ceremony, but all London is in excitement when Her Majesty opens it in person. People crowd all the avenues leading to the Houses 222 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. of Parliament, and when the Sovereign approaches -.he is saluted with cheers and hurrahs, the waving of handkeri^hiefs, the ringing of bells, and the roaring of cannon. When she arrives at the House she is first conducted to the Robino- o Room. When duly attired. Prince Albert accompanies her to the throne, and when she is seated, himself takes a chair- of-state immediately on her left. As soon as she is seated, the dueen desires the Peers to be seated also, and the " Usher of the Black Rod" summons the Commons. The Speaker soon appears at the Bar of the House with a multitude of members at his heels. The Lord Chancellor presents the speech to the Q,ueen, and she at once proceeds to read it There is a deal of foolish pomp in the ceremonial, but no one can deny that it is a most brilliant pageant. The members of the House of Lords are divided into two classes — the Lords Spiritual and the Lords Temporal. The former consist of two Archbishops and twenty-four Bishops, from England, and one Archbishop and three Bishops, from L'eland. There was a time when the Spiritual Lords out- numbered the Temporal, but now the latter are vastly in the preponderance. The Temporal Lords consist of twenty-eight Irish peers, elected for life, sixteen Scotch peers, elected for each term, and any quantity of English peers, who sit by right of descent, and whose only qualifications are that they be of age, of the right birth, and not totally imbecile. They are divided into various ranks, such as Barons, Viscounts. Marquises, Earls and Dukes. When the House sits in a judicial capacity, it tries all in- dividuals who are ■ impeached by the House of Commons, Peers who are indicted, and determines appeals from the de- cision of the Court of Chancery. When it sits judically it is open to the public. Upon such occasions only the law^ lords — generally — are present. PARLIAMENT. 223 HOUSE OF COMMONS. An English politician frequently expends fifty or a hun- dred tho.usand dollars in securing an election to the House of Commons. No man — unless of great popularity — considers it prudent to risk an election without a heavy purse. In many cases votes are bribed with gold ; but generally with dinners and flattering personal attentions. A few thousand pounds are absolutely necessary, for there are committees who must sit and be paid, canvassers for votes, and voters who must either be bribed directly with gold, or indirectly with wines, brandies, and riotous living. This renders it difficult for the Liberals to become elected to Parliament — the cost is out of the reach of poor commoners, and therefore the aristocrats step in and win the day. The members are not paid for their parliamentary services, and many reformers are too indi- gent to be able to sit for seven years in the House — the length of the Parliamentary term — without any pay. Thus the House of Commons, which was originally intended to be the people's house, is ruled completely by the aristocracy. Perhaps the most noted man in the Commons is Richard Cobden, the great Corn-Law o])poser. The triumph which he achieved over the Corn Law was a heavy blow against the aristocracy, and they felt it to be such. He is one of the noblest of men, and is very democratic in his opinions and sympathies. No other man in England is so popular with the masses. He is a man of prepossessing personal appear ance — with a broad and thoughtful brow, black hair, black eyes, and a half-solemn, sincere look. And what is a little singular, his eloquence is alike fitted for the • masses or for Parliament. He knows well how to address people or senate. His eloquence is of the simplest cast, yet has the potent quality of convincing. There is no bombast in it, no flowing 224 ' WHAl I SAW IN LONDON. rhetoric, but it satisfies. No other man could have converted the mighty intellect of Peel to Anti-Corn Lawism save sim- ple, straightforward Richard Cobden. Through that mighty struggle of seven years, night after night did Cobden stand up in the House and advocate his opinions. One after another came over to his side, and at last the great leader of the Protectionists, Peel himself, came and sat at his feet as a follower! A grander triumph the world never saw, and Cobden might have taken any office or title if he would, but instead of that he has gone still further on in democratical opinions, and he is therefore separated from the administration by his sentiments. Joseph Hume is another veteran among the ranks of the Liberals in the House. He is self-made, and has for forty years fought against the aristocracy. John Bright, the (Qua- ker member, is an enthusiastic speaker, and was the compeer of Cobden through the great Corn Law struggle. Fox is a chaste orator, and George Thompson has eminent abilities as a speaker — and both are Liberals. Lord George Bentinck was for a few years previous to his death the leader of the Protectionist party iu the House of Commons. His speeches were characterized by nervous en- ergy, and he was an ingenious arrayer of facts, which is often the most convincing kind of eloquence. Aside from his pecu- liar sympathies for the Corn Laws, he was a reasonable man, and a good leader of his party. He was deficient in morals, being a great gambler. In one season he netted by his gam- bling between three and four hundred thousand dollars. It was a singular sight to see the leader of the Tories of Eng- land betting at the races like any common and debauche'' gambler. England, however, had her " gambler statesmen before Bentinck came upon the stage. In appearance he was tall and slim — dressed fashionably, but not foppishly. His •PARLIAMENT. 225 forehead was broad and showy, and his general appearance was intelligent and pleasing. Since Lord Bentinck's death, Benjarniu D'Israeli has been the acknowledged leader of the Tories in the House of Com- mons, though his advocacy of Jewish liberty came near cost- ing him his place. If the party had a single talented man in the House beside him, they would dispense with his services, for he is ill-fitted to be the leader of a great party. His per- sonal qualities are not such as to inspire respect. His natural position is one from which he can attack whom he pleases, for he is only brilliant when destructive. As a builder he is good for nothing ; he has no clear-sighted philanthropy ; but can wield savage, though polished sarcasm and wit, with ter- rible effect. He often expends his wit upon the defenders of Truth, but in such cases it falls harmless to the ground ; but Dccasionally he points his guns where he should point them,* and then, when truth and wit unite, his success is magnifi- cent. He dissects an enemy with the ferocity of a tiger, but does it politely. His wit is keen and deep, but his invective is irritating rather than grandly impetuous. He" has not depth enough to pursue a man as Daniel O'Connell did in that House. He cannot storm along with Daniel's thunder, making the very skie.s grow black and tempestuous about his victim's head ; but he stings like a venomous insect, and the result is, that his subject becomes vexed, maddens and hates, but is never afraid, and always despises his enemy. He has little popularity, because he lacks heart. As a brilliant speaker and writer — for he is far-famed as an author — he commands much attention, but little love or esteem. He has a Jewish look, and is of Jewish descent. His hair is dark ; eyes intense, wickedly black, narrow yet high forehead, slim body, and a medium height. He has a foppish and jaunty appearance, and in his dress causes much amusement, for he is the dandy-statesman of the House. '* 15 226 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. Mr. Goulbourn is one of the members from Oxford — the stronghold of Toryism. He is not talented as a speaker, but in the opinion of some is a man of sound judgment and dis- criminatory powers. Sir Harry Tnglis is quite distinguished for his advocacy of blind Conservatism ; Sir James Graham was one of Peel's Generals, and is a moderate Conservative of great talents. Lord John Russell, the Whig Premier, is by virtue of his position, one of the most prominent men of the House. In personal appearance he is quite ordinary, and indeed inferior. He is diminutive in size, has a grannyish face, the features being dry, small and wrinkled, his eyes are intelligent, his forehead small, and his manners rather pompous. This is not afiected — he is of such inferior size, has such a doleful face and general appearance, that when he rises as Prime Minis- ter with great words upon his lips, there is a look of pompos- ity about the man. One smiles involuntarily to think of a great statesman on so short a pair of legs I And besides, Punch has so often presented to the public that same pecu- liar face attached to so many different kinds of bodies, that the gazer cannot forget it. The Premier is a man of genius, but no statesman. He lacks depth, breadth, and statesman- like fore-knowledge. There is little dignity in his character, and ^he nation remembers that once he was, while out of office, a flaming reformer, but now a craven aristocrat. In the days of the Heforra Bill he talked loudly of the people's rights, but long since has hushed that cry.. He dresses with aristocratic simplicity, is a gentleman, pure in private life, and obliging in disposition. We shall not be at all surprised to see Lord John Russell once again an agitator. If circum- stances deprive him of office, he will lead the people again, and ride triumphantly into power — perhpps again to deceive thern. PARLIAMENT. 227 We saw Sir Robert Peel in the House of Commons during our first year in the metropolis, and we always thought him the ablest statesman there. The very face and figure of the man proclaimed him to be no ordinary character. His fore- head was large, his countenance always in grand repose, and his person in keeping Vvdth the colossal proportions of his in- tellect. He was always well dressed, not splendidly, but with a plain richness which became him well. Whenever he rose to speak, the House gave all attention. No other man in the House inspired such universal respect. Men might differ from him, but they stood in awe of his stern morality and large intellect. His sudden conversion to Free Trade his quondam friends can never forgive, but it was a sublime proof of his love for truth and candor. The cry of " traitor I" did not disturb him, for his conscience told him he had acted nobly and well. He had mortified himself, for the sake of the toiling millions of England I And he lived long enough to see the discomfiture of his enemies, and now that he is dead, the man who would dare to traduce him would be hooted out of England. Knowing the temper of the nation, in this respect, the Tories never mention his desertion, now they well know that the cause of it was a powerful conviction in the mind of Peel, that to save the English nation, the Corn Laws mus; be repealed. CHAPTER XIIL A TRIP TO HAMPTON COURT. One pleasant day, as the Spring was just dying away into Summer, with a few friends, in a private, open carriage, we made a delightful excursion to Hampton Court. In a short time we had left Piccadilly, the Cluhs, and Hyde Park out of sight, were off the stony pavements ; and fields of green, and country-houses with close-shaven lawns, and groves, were scattered profusely on either hand. The day was clear, soft, and lovely, and the little villages through which we passed were nestling in among the vines and shrubbery like bird's nests. We stopped our carriage on Wimbledon Common to have a quiet view of the place, and the surrounding scenery • — for only a few moments, and then were riding swiftly onward. In a short time we arrived at the pretty little village of Kingston on the Thames, about fifteen miles from London. We drove to a hotel, had our panting horses well takencare of, and after taking a luncheon, ordered a couple of boats in which we intended to pull up to Hampton Court, which was two or three miles distant. Our boats were light as bark canoes, so much so that a single unlucky movement threatened a plunge into the water to us all. Our office was that of helmsman, and as soon as we were fairly upon the bosom of the stream, we saw the extreme loveliness of the scenery around us. On our right, lay the celebrated Richmond Park, its dense forests growing A TRIP TO HAMPTON COURT. 229 almost down to the brink of the river. On the left hand, (going towards ?Iampton Court) there were beautiful resi- dences, the gardens of which ran down to the edge of the river. Some of these were the most beautiful and exquisitely lovely spots we ever saw, and fairly made our heart sick of life in town. Out on one of the lawns a group of rosy-cheeked children were playing, while beside them in quiet oonterapla- tion, stood two young women, fair as lilies. There were hills in the dim distance covered over with the tint of the sky, while those nearer, were green and ridged with hawthorn hedges. Here and there were groves of trees, or flocks of snow-white sheep ; the merry birds were singing in every bough, and English birds can " make melody" of marvellous sweetness on summer mornings I Occasionally We rested our oars and floated silently backward on the stream while we gazed at all the sweet beauty around us, as if charmed by the scenery as a practical mesmerist charms his patient. But the tide and stream were so strong against us, that we could not afford to stop rowing long at a time, and we felt the force of that line in the old song which says : " Row ! brothers, row ! — the stream runs fast '" As we glided on against the stream a song was struck up by our fellow boatmen, who were some distance in the rear, the notes of which echoed sweetly in the groves, on the banks of the river. The children, as we passed, came down to look at us and hear the song, and the birds sung louder than ever, as if to prove their undoubted right to the realm of song. And now we were almost in sight of Bushy Park, which belongs to the Hampton Court Palace. A turn in the course of the river soon brought the Palace in full view, and a finer sight we never saw. The Park gates were just opposite us, and we could see a fine avenue of chestnut and lime trees 230 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. fountains and statues, t hile back of them in magnificent splendor rose the palace which Cardinal Wolsey built for himself, but when questioned by the king, Henry YIIL, why he had built a palace more sumptuous than any in the king- dom, he gracefully and at once gave it to his majesty. Running our boats ashore, we put them into the care of a boy, and arm-in-arm passed through the little village of Hampton, and entered the gates which lead up to the magnifi- cent Palace. Hampton Court Palace stands on the northern bank of the river Thames, some fifteen miles west of London. The cele- brated Cardinal Wolsey, who rose from a butcher's boy to be the greatest character in Henry YHL's reign, at the summit of his power wished to build a magnificent palace for bia personal use, and wished to build it on the healthiest spot within a few miles of London, Physicians of eminence selected Hampton, where the palace was erected. It so far surpassed even the Royal palaces, that the king questioned Wolsey as to the matter, when he at once gave it to his master, who in return presented him with the manor of Richmond, a favorite residence of Henry YH. John Skelton, a poet of Wolsey's time, wrote the following lines, which shov/ the dissatisfaction of the people at the Cardinal's isiagnificence : " The Eingyes Court Should have the excellence I But Hampton Court Hath the pre-eminence ; And Yorkes place With my Lordes grace, To whose magnificence Is all the confluence State and applications Embassies of all nations V A TRIP TO HAMPTON COURT. 231 But although Cardinal Wolsey for a long time was the favorite of his monarch, and lived himself like a king, yet, finally, he iell. He v/as impeached, arrested for treason, and died, it is supposed, by poison administered by his own hands. Before he died, he lamented that he had not served his God as faithfully as he had his kitig. It is supposed that Wolsey himself furnished the designs for Hampton Palace, which will forever stand to commemorate his greatness. Henry VIII. held several magnificent banquets in the Palace — one of them in particular, given to the French Ambassadors, was a most gorgeous pageant. Henry, who will ever be remembered by his cruelties, often lived here, and brought every one of his six wdves (if we mistake not) here for a short time. Edward YI. was born in Hampton Palace, in 1537, and his mother, poor Jane Seymour, only survii^ed his birth a few days. Henry loved her better than any of his other wiveg. She it was whom he married the day after his former wife, A.nne Boleyn, was beheaded. (iueen Mary and Philip of Spain, spent their honeymoon in 1558, at this place. Q,ueen Elizabeth occasionally held scenes of festivity in it, and James I. held the celebrated con- ference between the Presbyterians and the members of the established church, in one of the lofty rooms of the Palace, himself acting as moderator. The result was the present translation of the Bible. The wife of James I., Q,ueen Anne, died here in 1618. Charles I. spent some time at Hampton Palace in 1625, to et out of the way of the plague, which was raging fearfully n London — and here too, the poor and wretched king was kept in a state of gorgeous imprisonment by Cromwell's soldiers, and from here went to the scaffold. Elizabeth the daughter of Cromwell was married here on the iSth of November, 1657, and the following year his 232 WHAT I SAW IX LONDOX. favorite daughter, Mrs. Claypole,died in it. George II is the last king who has resided in it. The Palace covers eight acres of ground. Over the arch- way of the gates, are the arms and motto of Cardinal Wolsey — " God is my help," and on the small towers are busts of the Roman Emperors. They were sent from Rome by Popo Leo X. to Wolsey, purposely to decorate his Grand Palace, and have recently been repaiivd. This was the grand old Palace we were entering, and with all its rich historical associations in our memory, the readei will not wonder if we looked at its antiquated walls as they rested peacefully in the sunshine with something of reverence in our hearts It was the Palace of Kings and (Queens famous in the centuries which have fled away — it was the home and prison of Charles I. — and in it Cromwell, the Pro- tector of the Commonwealth, closed in death the eyes of his favorite child ! We entered by the " King's Grand Staircase," which is crowded with allegories and devices painted by Yerrio, into what is called the " Guard Chamber," a splendid apartment, sixty feet long by forty wide, and thirty in height. Here there was a grand display of armory — enough, it is said, to ^uUy equip a thousand men. There are also several pictures, none of which attracted our special attention, save a portrait of Admiral Beubon, of whom the British sailors sing so lustily. We next entered the " King's First Presence Chamber," and found a large collection of paintings. A portrait of the Duchess of St. Albans struck us — she was the child of poor but beautiful Nell Gwynne and Charles II. There was also another picture by Holbein, entitled " An old woman blow- ing charcoal," which was capital. In the second " Presence Chamber," there are among others two or three beautiful paintmgs by the old master, Titian, and in the " Audience Chamber" there are some excellent scripture pieces by old A. TRIP TO HAMPTOX COURT. 233 masters. There is also, and we gazed long at it, a portrait by Titian of Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the order of Jes- uits. He was a fine-looking man, if the portrait be correct, and it must be, for it is by Titian. However, Loyola was not the founder of all the dangerous and fearful maxims whch have since been adopted by the Jesuits. Venus and CujAd, by Titian, is also a beautiful painting in the same room In the " King's Drawing Room" there is a powerful piece by Poussiu, entitled " Christ's Agony in the Garden." In ** King William's Bed Hoom" is the identical state-bed used by Ciueen Charlotte. The furniture is all embroidery of the most beautiful description. The ceiling is painted by Verrio. At the head of the bed there stands a celebrated clock, which goes a year without winding up. There are several paintings hung up on the walls — one of Catherine, wife of the licentious Charles II. She, it is said, was the very pattern of meekness and piety, and though at first shocked at the conduct of her royal husband, yet never ceased to love him. She was once so ill as to be given over by her physicians, when her husband wept at her bedside, begging her to live for his sake, little supposing that she would take him at his word. But his words acted like magic upon the dying Clueen, for she suddenly revived, and finally outlived the king by twenty years. We noticed in this room a portrait of the Duchess of Ports- mouth, one of Charles II. 's favorite mistresses. Her beauty was of the most delicate cast. She was purposely sent over to England by the French King to entrap the English mon- arch, and bind him to the French interest, and the scheme was successful. We saw also another of Charles' mistresses —the Duchess of Cleveland, of whom Bishop Burnet said : She was a woman of great beauty but enormously wicked, ravenous, foolish^ and imperious." " Her Majesty's Gallery" is a large, fine apartment, and in 234 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. it there are many paintings which to us were full of interest. There were a dozen different paintings of Q,ueen Elizabeth and never before were we so impressed with the haggish hid- eousness of her features. One painting represented her when a child, and even then Ehe w^as devoid of beauty. Horace Walpole says : " A pale, Roman nose, a head of hair loaded with crowns and powdered with diamonds, a vast ruff, a vaster fardingale, and a bushel of pearls are the features by which everybody knows at once the pictures of Glueen Elizabeth." One picture represents her as an old v/oman, and of all the horrible sights we ever have seen, that surpassed all. Cru- elty, passion, and imperiousness are written in all her fea- tures. In one picture she is drawn in a quaint dress, in a forest, a stag behind her, and on a tree are some Latin mot- toes. On a scroll at the bottom of the painting, are some verses, which some suppose to have been written by Spenser, but more generally it is thought they were written by dueen Elizabeth, who it is w^ell known, pined away after she had consigned Essex (whom she loved) to the scaffold. They are so plaintive that we will copy them here, exactly as they are written on the scroll : '• The res ties swallow fits ray restles mind, In still revivinge, still reneninge wrongs : Her just complaint of cruelty unkinde Are all the mnsique that my life prolonges, With pensive thought my weeping stagg I crowne Whose melancholy teares my cares expresse ; His teares in sylence, and my sighes unknowne, Are all the pliysicke that my harmes redresse. My only hope was in this goodly tree, Which I did plant in love, bring up in care ; But all in vaine, for now to late I see The shales be mine, the kernels others are. My musique may be plaintes. my phisique teares. If this be all the fruite my love-tree beares." A TRIP TO HAMPTON COURT. 235 Not one of all the portraits of dueen Elizabeth gives to her any beauty. There is a look of repulsive intellect in some or all of them, but in none is there any softness, or womanly beauty. How Leicester or Essex could ever have 'pretended to have an affection for such a being, we cannot conceive. No one denies her great intellectual superiority over the women of her time, but she was also cruel as death, and with- out much personal morality, however much the old Conserva- tives of England may cry about the golden age of " good Q,ueen Bess !" In the same apartment there is a fine portrait of Prince Rupert, But we wall hurry on to the " Closet," which contains the cartoons of Eaphael. They are so called because they are painted on sheets of paper. They were bought for Charles L by Rubens the painter, and are the most distinguished pieces in the Palace. It seemed strange to stand before the mighty creations of Raphael's genius, which were executed in 1520, only a few years after Columbus discovered the New World. The first of the series is entitled " The Death of Ananias/' and no one can conceive how vividly all the characters stand forth upon the paper, who has not Mnth his own eyes gazed at them. You can see the man Ananias, as if the life were not completely gone from his body ; the horror of those around him, as if it all was reality. " Peter and John at the Beau- tiful Gate" is another exquisite thing, and which intoxicates the gazer like the odor of June mornings. The power of such paintings over the human soul is wonderful, and cannot be otherwise than beneficial. But we cannot record our admiration of all the paintings — we visited room after room, and at last emerged into the Great Hall, which was designed by Cardinal Wolsey. In the days of Glueen Elizabeth this same Hall was used for dramatic performances, and there is a tradition that some of 236 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. Shakspeare's best plays were first performed here. In 1718, ' Henry YIIL, or the Fall of Wolsey," was represented in this Hall, which was once the scene of his greatest splendor. The walls are hung with beautiful arras tapestry with ara- besque borders. The windows are exquisitely stained and traced. And now we walked into the ancient and lovely gardens which surround the Palace. They were full of verdure and bloom, of fountains and statues, and sweet-smelling flowers. In one part of it we saw a grape-vine which is 110 feet long, and some distance from the ground it is 30 inches in circum- ference. Last year it bore near three thousand bunches of black Hamburgh grapes. There are a hundred beautiful avenues, shadowy with lin- den or lime trees, whose branches were graceful and refresh- ing. In one part of the Gardens there is a maze or labyrinth, which was formed during King William's reign. The paths are separated from each other by high hedges, and if you are tempted to enter the dangerous place, it is doubtful whether without help you can find your way out again. It was with a feeling of regret that we returned from the Palace — perhaps never to enter it again. But it was now time to take to our boats, and upon the tide and stream w« swiftly floated down to Kingston, where we partook of an ex cellent dinner, and rode home in a moonlight evening tha* would have made a poet sing I And we were sick, sick of the town. Give to us the open, breathing, healthy country, in preference to the noise and confusion of the town. How strange that people will flock ' to the cities when all heaven lies without ! Peace and Beau- ty and holy Gluiet are not to be had in town ; but in the country they are free, " without money and without price." CHAPTER XIV. REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST bunyan's grave. There are many spots in London sacred to the memory of the departed great. Some of them are out of the way, in quiet nooks, or corners of old churchyards, where few persons ever go, and others are in renowned places, where the eyes of the world are sure to see them. In Westminster Abbey fashion and nobility deign to gaze apon the tombs of philosophers, and poets, and statesmen. But there are places to which few wander, but yet which mark the burial-places of men of genius, of goodness and greatness. There are graves mossed over by gray years, without even a legible tombstone, which are sadly interesting to the lover of truth and religion, and poetry. Everybody can tell where Horace Walpole was buried ; but who can go and stand over Chatterton's grave ? He was buried among paupers — while the aristocratic butterfly who saw him perish without remorse, had a tomb like a king. There is to us a peculiar pleasure in finding out the haivnta of the poets of ages ago, and of good men, and resting upon the grass which waves gracefully over their graves. And we are content to take up with a hero whom the world may not have christened as the greatest. There are smaller stars in 238 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. th« firmament, which, though not so brilliant, are as beautiful as the largest. Ther3 were men living a century or two cen- turies ago, not perhaps the greatest of men, but who were great and good enough to deserve immortality at the handa of the world. In passing up a street called " City Road," we had oftep noticed a burial-yard which juts closely upon the street, so that we lingered sometimes to read the inscriptions on the tombstones. We were first attracted toward it by seeing a granite column in memory of " Thomas Hardy," who, a cen- tury ago (so says the granite column), was a great radical, and befriended the cause of the people to such an extent that he was thrown into the Tower on a charge of high-treason, where he lay separated from his family for six months, when he had his trial, which resulted in his triumphant acquittal by an honest English jury. Just opposite this yard there is another, which contains the dust of Wesley, the founder of Wesleyan Methodism. No one who has ever read the life of that truly devoted man can stand over his grave without feeling and thoughtfulness. There is something in every earnest and holy man's life, though only seen through biography, Avhich commands the respect of even the worldling, and no man, however cold, ever bent over Wesley's modest tomb without feeling in his inmost heart a sentiment of veneration for so disinterested and truly piuus a character. The opposite yard is called " Bunhill Fields," and was opened, if we recollect aright, just after the Great Plague which raged so fearfully in London. One Sunday afternoon, seeing for the first time in all our walks past it, the yard-gate open, we dropped into " Bunhill Fields." A friend was with us, and we turned in at ^he little gate to decipher the quaint inscriptions upon the time- worn stones. REMINISCEVCES OF THE PAST. 239 The yard is of considerable extent, and is very thickly Btrewn with stones. Almost all of them, too, we noticed, were old, some of them extremely old. Upon some the in- scriptions were entirely worn away, and not a trace remained to tell the stranger whose ashes were beneath his feet. We had wandered away from the main path, following a little narrow one strewn with gravel, when a tomb of very ancient appearance arrested our attention. It was in the style of the small, square tombs of the sixteenth century, and the stone was worn away in certain places by the ever-busy fingers of time. There were traces of old inscriptions, bul BO crumbled away that nothing could be made out of them Upon one side was the simple inscription : *' MR. JOHN BUNYAN, " AUTHOR OF THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS, " OU. 3U-i Augmt, 1688, ''Act. 60." It was what we had come to see — Bunyan's grave. The simple inscription struck us dumb, for we were standing over the dust of the author of that wonderful book which has pen- etrated to all parts of the world, and whose name is like a saint's in thousands of Christian households. The despised artisan of London, base-born, lowly every way, and treated with cruelty, made his name immortal, so that in lands where then nought was heard but the Indian's wild war-whoop, now millions of Christians pronounce his name with love and veneration I His earnest, fearless spirit ; his pure devotion to Christ ; his endurance of suffering and strong intellect can never be forgotten so long as religious freedom has worship- pers. The tomb bore the imprints of the years which have rolled away since the body of John Bunyan was laid in its final 24C WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. rest.ng-place — and what changes and wonders have they wit- nessed I Worlds have been peopled, as it were, since then, and light has driven out darkness, and the hideous spirit of Religious Intolerance has grown feeble, and in every year, every month, every day since then John Bunyan has borne his part of the battle for truth and piety. His pages have comforted, strengthened or sustained some desponding heart each hour since then — how wonderful is that immortality which a man creates for himself How strange that by a heroic act poor man may work on till the earth perishes, while the fingers which once executed it are but dust ! Turning away from the tomb we resumed our wanderings, and soon stood before the grave of Dr. Watts. He was not a great man, not a great poet, but he ivas a good man, and his simple songs are now sung from Atlantic to Pacific in many homes and churches. As we leaned against his tomb, we had a vivid glimpse of the summer-sabbaths of America ; of the simple country-churches, and the songs of village-choirs singing the hymns of Watts. We remembered Longfellow's touching picture of the village blacksmith : " 5e goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice. Singing in the village-choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies : And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes." Those smiling sabbaths I — how beautiful and holy they were I And it is something to the honor of Isaac Watts that his hymns are chanted in so many lands on these holiest of REMINISCKNCES OF THE PAST. '241 all days ! And speaking of sabbaths — a sabbath morning in London in the summer time is a beautiful sight I People clad in their best crowd all the streets on their way to church, and the chimes from a thousand bells fill the air with cheerful music. We have sometimes listened, when perhaps a half- dozen miles out of town, to the sabbath-bells, and never in any town or country heard an\ thing more beautiful. The distance made the music joft, and the variety of sounds, and their cheerful tone, amid the sabbath sunlight, made the very air seem joyful. After service, go into the parks, and you find them crowded with men, women and children, especially the latter, who are brought out in great swarms to play upon the grass in the open air. But, to return to Bunhill Fields ; — after leaving Bunyan's and Watts' graves, we wandered at leisure over the crowded but quaint grave-yard. Some of the grave-stones were extremely old-fashioned, and bore the, quaintest inscriptions. In one part of the yard the graves wore crowded together so closely that there was no space for walking between them, but this was where persons had been buried many years ago. In a part where recent graves had been made we saw some exceedingly beautiful tombs and marbles. There were not many people in the yard, for Bunhill Fields is not an elegant, fashionable burying-ground. In it lie some of the sternest of the old puritans, who had little sym- pathy for the fashions of this world. Indeed the whole aspect of the yard was gloomy and stern. Not a flower raised its head anywhere to be kissed by the breezes sweeping over the spot. Not a cedar or cypress tree was anywhere to be seen. And they would not be in keeping there. The religion of those grand old puritans was a solemn, almost gloomy thing. Yet was it not superior to the easy, poetical religion of this age? K 16 242 WHAT I SAW IN LOJsDON. STOKE NEWINGTON. "We made one day a delightful visit to Stoke ISTewington, an ancient suburb of London, and saw many things fail of interest. Many years ago Stoke Newington was a very fash- ionable place for residence. In Q,ueen Elizabeth's time there was a royal residence in it. We were shown a delightful walk, lined with ancient oak-trees, which is called " Q,ueen Elizabeth's walk," because she used often to walk in it with Lord Leicester. There is a very beautiful villa in it, with a fine park, which the dissolute George lY. used as a residence for some of his mistre^6es. But there are other things in Stoke Newington of far deeper interest than any of these relics of royalty. There is in it a Friends' Burying-Ground, where lie the ashes of that pure and simple-hearted man, William Allen, who though simple, yet consorted with kings. When the Emperor of Russia was in London, he came with plain William Allen to the Friends' Meeting House in Stoke Newington, and knelt upon the bare floor of the house of worship, while the honest Q^uaker prayed for him as he would do for any other man. We have seen one who wit- nessed that scene, and he says it was a thrilling sight. The grave-jard is a quiet spot — -the graves are all grassed, over, and are without tombstones. In it lies buried the mother of Mary Howitt. A few years ago, while in England, we had the happiness of making her acquaintance, and a more intel- ligent, happier woman we never met. Her brow was smiling as that of youth, though she was very old. In Stoke Newington there is one street, on which are houses, in which Dr. Watts, Daniel Defoe, the author of " Robinson Crusoe," and Mrs. Barbauld lived ! The very house in which Defoe lived was pointed out to us, and we could not help stopping awhile before it to think of the olden REi4{MSCENCE6 OF THE PAST, 243 time. There is a Common, east of the house, on w^iich he used 1 ii h)ve to walk in pleasant weather. The house is old and crumbling, yet it is still inhabited and finely furnished. The outside of some of the most aristocratic buildings in Lon- don are exceedingly plain, and this old building is occupied by a person of wealth and taste. To wander through its rooms and think of the time when Defoe sat over his desk in one of them, writing his story which will live as long as the world, to the delight of the young, was to us a choice pleas- ure. It almost seemed as if the man "Friday" lurked some- where behind some of the great M'indow-curtains, and as if relics of the wonderful spot where Crusoe was so long a " monarch of all he surveyed," must be hid somewhere in the recesses of the old building I The house in which Mrs. Barbauld hved is not far from Defoe's, and like it, is very old. The house in which Dr. Watts lived is in pretty much the same condition. There is an old building in Stoke Newington which used, many years ago, to be a chapel, and in it Dr. Watts used to preach. It has not been used for many years for public worship, but recently a religious society, while refitting their ordinary place of worship, used the old building, though it is little better than a ruin, for a few Sabbaths. We improved the occa.sion, and attended meeting there one day. The old pews and the pulpit v^^ere gone, but we could see the place where the pulpit used to stand, and the old walls were the very same which had for many a year, looked kindly dowp upon Isaac V/atts I Our thoughts, we fear, were not witli die preacher while we were in the old building, but " far away," among the scenes of years ago. There is a beautiful cemetery in Stoke Newington, and it was given to the inhabitants by Lady Abney, who was a sincere friend to Dr. Watts. There is in it a pretty little church, where funeral services are performed by all denomi- 244 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. nations of Christians. Lady. Abney was very liberal in her religious views, and the cemetery is, with its church, open to all alike, and though its grounds were never consecrated, yet many rij;id churchmen have been buried in it. There is no quieter burial spot within a dozen miles of London in any direction, and there are cedars of Lebanon in it, wide lawns, and beautiful flowers. There is an old clergyman in the church, who is always ready to officiate for a small fee on funeral occasions. He is over eighty years old, his hair is like the snow, and he is a fit companion to such a solemn place. One shining evening, with a female friend we visited the cemetery, and stopped in the little Gothic chapel to talk with the venerable clergyman. The tears actually sprung over his eyelids when we said that we came from* America. " Ah I" said he, " I have two fine boys there !" Almost every family among the poor respectable classes in England, has some member, or relation in America. The old man asked a thousand questions about the wonderful far land of liberty in the west, which we were glad to answer. We wandered over the lonely, yet lovely cemetery, stopping here and there to read the inscriptions on the grave-stones. " Here," said our companion, as we stopped before a beauti- ful tablet under the branches of a tree, " here, a few years ago, was buried a pretty, prattling girl whom I knev/", and loved, and who often used to come and play among the fxowers on our lawn. One day, very suddenly, she died of a heart-disease. The suddenness of the stroke almost killed her father and mother. Her portrait was taken after death, and when she was arranged for the artist, I came in and looked at her. Never saw I so touching a sight I She was dressed as if alive, and was half reclining upon a sofa in the drawing- room. Her cheeks Avere like the rose-leaves, and if her eyes had not been closed I should have believed her alive. The southern windows were thrown open — it was a June morn REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 24.'' ing — and the odor of flowers came in with the songs ot the birds. Her mother entered the room — the sight was too much for her, and she fainted. The fair girl was buried in this sweet spot, but will never be forgotten by those who knew her." In one part of the Cemetery we noticed a fine monument to Dr. Watts, but the most interesting spot is away to the north-eastern corner, where a small plot of ground is fenced ofTfrom the rest. On it there is a large and venerable oak, and that was the favorite place of retirement of Dr. Watts, when he was alive. A small tablet bears an inscription tc that effect. It formerly was a part of the park belonging tc Lady Abney, and as Dr. Watts was her guest for a longtime, he selected the shade of this old tree as his favorite place of resort. Many a time has the good man rested upon the grass beneath its branches, and perhaps composed there some of those songs which are now sung in all Christian lands. Lady Abney caused the spot to be railed off from the rest of the grounds after his death. The path to the spot is well worn by the feet of those who admire the goodness and piety of Dr. Watts. England above all other lands is celebrated for the respect which she pays to her distinguished dead. The country chiwches and church-yards of England are the most beautiful in the world, and the influence of such places is chastening to the soul, in this harsh world of ours HAMPSTEAD AND HIGHGATE. As "we have before remarked, there are in London many places where lie the ashes of distinguished men and women of centuries gone. Some of these places are in out-of-the-way nooks and corners, where the great world never comes — for Buch places we always cherished a fondness. Not always to 246 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. St. aul's and Westminster Abbey, where the bones of great ni' 1 repose in grandeur, was it our pleasure to wander to ^' iher reminiscences of the past, but to quieter places, to iglected spots. In the village of Hampstead, a suburb of London on the west, Joanna Baillie, the distinguished authores-s, used to live. "She died, as the reader well knows, during the winter of last year ; and it seemed to the literary world, that when she died, the link which connected them with the past generation of poets and authors was broken. She was a favorite with Sir Walter Scott, and the "Great Unknown" used always to visit her in her quiet home at Hampstead when he was in London. She was the companion of many of those bright and glorious geniuses which the world worships now- — now that they are gone beyond the reach of the envy and hatred of their generation. One day we wandered over the pretty village of Hampstead, and from the summit of Hampstead Heath, had a splendid vie\^ of Windsor Castle, distant nearly twenty miles. The village is on an eminence which overlooks London, and is an exceed- ingly healthy situation for a residence. After wandering ovei the Heath, and village, at last we entered the village grave yard, and almost the first grave we saw was that of Joanna Baillie. It half seemed to us that she selected the spot before her death, for it is as sweet and beautiful a place as even a poet would wish to be buried in. The grave is where all London lies beneath it. The blue hills of Surrey rise beyond the tall dome of St. Paul's ; the great town lies open as on a map far below, while the noisy hum of traffic swells upwiLrd on the breezes which hasten over the great town. A more beautiful burial-spot we never saw, though the cemetery ig often surpassed, taken as a whole ; and it is fit that a poetess ihould be buried in such a place. Not far from Hampstead is Highgate Cemetery; and we REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 24*7 walked over to it. It is by far — in our opinion- le most beautiful cemetery in the region of London, though it is not equal to Mount Auburn and Greenwood in America, or Pere le Chaise in France. Yet it is situate on an eminence — on the south-eastern slope of a beautiful hill, looking down upon the busy metropolis, and is a quiet and retired place. We saw many beautiful and even magnificent tombs in the cemetery, and among others one that saddened us, for it was the grave of a countryman, who had died far, far away from his native land. We remembered our own feelings when on the same foreign shore, we lay, as many thought, upon our last couch. A short distance from the cemetery we entered upon one of the sweetest English lanes that ever we saw. Perhaps a kind of beauty was added to it from the fact that it used once to be the favorite walk of John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shel- ley. For, many years since, Keats and Shelley used to walk in it, and Byron too, and Coleridge. Leigh Hunt, if we mis- take not, first met Keats in this lane, and speaks of it in some of his writings. One day in June — on a morning full of sunshine and songs — Shelley, who was full of strange fancies, as he was walking with a companion on the brow of this beautiful eminence of Highgate, stopped and gazed for a long time upon the lovely scene spread out before him, until he at last burst into tears, exclaiming, " I have seen this all before I In the past — in some previous existence — where ? where ?" Who has not, on some peculiar occasion or moment in his life, felt the same ? Felt that the then present moment, with all its adjuncts of circumstance and place, had been lived somewhere by himself before ? To Shelley, the feeling, which was probably an illusion of the brain, was like a revelation of something beyond the common sight of men, an insight into the mysterious past, and he felt awed, surprised, affected to 248 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. tears with the thought that previous to his present existence he had seen with the same soul, that glorious landscape I Coleridge often came with some pleasant book to pass away the hours among beautiful things — to Highgate Hill, and the region of the Cemetery. There is an old church, right in the heart of London, which we visited one day, where repose the ashes of John Milton, the sublime author of Paradise Lost. It is called Cripple- gate Church. As we stood within its ancient walls, with the light coming in beautifully and solemnly through the painted windows, we thought of the time when the remains of the great poet were interred there — when he was alive and com- posing that poetry which has made his name immortal. The old clerk of the place showed us in the Book of Registry, the entry of Milton's name. It read as follows : " John Milton — consumption — gentleman." In these brief words the death of one of the world's greatest men was recorded. It was simply " John Milton ;" he died of " consumption ;" and he was a " gentleman." [N^ot a sin- gle word about his greatness and glory — as if he had been a common man of the world. Some admirer has placed in the church a small marble statue of the poet, and that is all. We occasionally met with people in London circles, who were once intimately connected with those whose names are held in great esteem and reverence in America. Through a singular blunder we first met the daughter of the celebrated divine. Dr. Adam Clarke, and subsequently made her ac- quaintance. We also had the extreme pleasure of a visit at the house of the only surviving daughter of the distinguished Robert Hall. She lives on the Surrey side of the Thames, has a beautiful home, xnd is a remarkable Vv'oman. In Lon- don society one continually meets with people who are as it REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 249 were the connecting links between this and the past age. There are those w^ho were intimate with Byron, and Scott, and Shelley, when they were alive ; those who knew Camp- bell, L. E. L., and other persons of genius now deceased ; and to hear such men converse on the merits of the great ones gone to their final sleep, knowing them once as they did in- timately, was to us a luxury and a privilege. CHATTERTON. "While we are writing of men of past ages, the reader will excuse us if we indulge in a few thoughts upon that most un* fortunate of the English poets — Thojnas Chatterton. Four months of his life were spent in London, and those his most eventful ones, for they were his last. Who has not wept over the history of those four sad months — months of deser- tion, disappointment, madness, and death ? We have walked the very streets he used to walk ; gazed at the building in which was once his little garret-room, where he died — and if we refresh the reader's memory with some of the incidents of his melancholy history, we are sanguine of pardon. He was born a century ago in the town of Bristol, England. His ancestors for many generations had been keepers of the St. Mary RedclifTe church, in that town — a church still noted for its extreme beauty. His father died before " the won- drous boy" was born, but his mother resided near the church, and his young brain was filled with her wild legends and marvellous stories concerning it. When very small he used to get the keeper's leave, and ramble over it for hours to- gether, among its solemn aisles, and ancient, dingy cloisters. When five years of age he was sent to school, but was pro- nounced by the master to be an incorrigible dunce. Not long after this, he accidentally met an old French book, filled with pictures which fo^ered his love for antique things, which had K* 250 WPAT I SAW IN LONDON. been kindled m his lonely wanderings through Iledchff*» Chnreh, At eight he became a member of the Bristol Blue- cote School, and was an astonishing d vourer of books. He abstracted time from his sleeping hours to gratify this passion, and was severely whipped for it in several instances. When he was ten years old he became reserved and melancholy, frequently breaking ont into fits of weeping. His ambition to be great, famous, and gifted, was intense. He spent his holidays invariably in an old and desolate cloister of the diurch, and his frequent visits attracted . attention. It was noticed that he always carried with him pen, ink, and paper, ochre and charcoal-dust. The room was visited once during his absence, and nothing discovered save an old chest. If they had raised the lid of the chest, the secret would have been discovered. As ".t was, his friends made up their minds that he was fitting 'li'mself to join a roving band of gipsies, then in the vicinity Df Bristol. But here he came regularly to complete his mysterious work. When he was twelve years old, he amazed an inhabitant of Bristol by discovering in the old chest of the cloister, the man's pedigree, with coats of arms painted on parchments. He traced his descent back to the great Earl of Northumberland, and the man received these indubitable proofs of his noble extraction with joy. He did not suppose a mere boy capable of such splendid forgeries. A literary gentleman was just then writing a work upon Bristol, and Chatterton hearing that he lacked information of the early history of the town, again discovered in his old chest its full history, illustrated with small maps, and sketches of the streets and churches, by one Canynge ! This forgery must have required great skill. And what was more marvellous still, he put his little fingers down into the old chest, and drew forth poetry of exquisite beauty, purporting to have been written seven centuries be- fore, and principally by one Thomas Rowley, a monk, who REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 251 wrought, according to this young lad's discovery, tragedies, epics, and interlude?, in delicious profusion. These poems were at once pronounced by the great men of the day to be of rare beauty, and the old monk took his place among the English poets. How strange that these men did not suspect the brilliant deception practised upon them— and yet how much more strange that so young a brain should possess the genius to write poetry that should reflect honor and fame upon a ficti= tious personage ! Disguising himself, he wrote to Horace Waipole of London, then at the head of the literary world, mentioned his discove- ries, and sent a specimen of the poetry. Waipole, supposing him to be some distinguished antiquarian, wrote back as to an equal, and praised the poetry as containing the proofs of great genius. Now, Ghatterton thought it time to make a bold stroke. So he borrowed a few guineas and came to London — happy for him if he had ever stayed away I He came, hov/ever, and avowed the truth— the drawings, the parchments, the histories, and the poetry, were all the work of a boy of six- teen ! The literary coxcomb, Lord Waipole, had been de- ceived by a mere boy. How easily he might have protected him and led him on, step by step, to one of the highest pin- nacles of Fame ! But no. When he saw that a mere boy had v/rought these things, instead of wondering at his genius, he was enraged at his deception. He tore up the poor boy's letters, and advised him to go home and mind his business. But the boy-poet was too proud for that, and as he loved hia mother and could not bear to pain her, he wrote her pleasant letters about the honors that were showered upon him, when in fact he was starving. He lived a while with a plasterer in Shoreditch, but the poor man could ill afford to harbor the melancholy poet. Next he removed to a kind-hearted milli* 252 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. ner's, in Brook-street, Holborn, where he stayed antil his death. The building is now occupied by one StcfTauoni, as a furniture warehou-e, and we visited it one day. Here he lived many Vvceks on the borders jof starvation, for he only hired the garret-room of the milliner, and got his meals where and how he could. Here in the depths of his despair he wrote the hymn which has caused tears of joy to flow from many eyes as being the type of his better spirit. Would that he could always have preserved the beautiful faith embodied in the last verse • " The gloomy mantle of the night, Which on my sinking spirit steals, Will vanish at the morning hght, Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals !" Alas! not one of all the great ones who had praised the poetry of the supposed monk oiTered help. What should he do ? Live a few miserable months, haunted by dire images, and comforted daily with an unsatisfied hunger — or die? The rich crowded past him, selfish and sordid — they whose names are now in oblivion — and there v/as no bright hope to cheer his soul. The night gathered about his young heart, his brain grew wild, and in a paroxysm of despair he committed suicide. He wrote his own epitaph as follows " TO THE MEMORY OF "THOMAS CHATTEK.TON. " Reader, judge not ; if thou art a Christian believe that he shall be judged by a superior power ; to that Power is he alone now answerable." He was buried among the paupers of Shoe Lane. As we stood over the supposed spot of his grave, now a market* place, we thought of the day, long ago, when his poor corps« REMINISCENCES OP THE PAST. 253 was borne thither to be cast into a pauper grave-yard, never to be recovered again — and then of the present fame of that young genius I Hardly any great author has existed since then who has not written of the " wondrous boy Chatterton I" Neglected as he was by his own age, the succeeding one has put his name among the stars ! While we write, a fragment of that very chest, from which his slight fingers drew such poetry and parchments, lies upon our desk. Perhaps those fingers have often rested upon it, while his heart was throbbing with ambitious hope ! If he could only have knov.'n that a century from then, a mere fragment of his old Canynge chest would be worshipped as a precious relic of him, how his young heart would have leaped ! But his story tells us a useful truth ; that genius, sooner or later, must and will have it^ reward. NELSON'S TOMB. There are few visitors in London who go to see the tomb of the great Nelson — England's naval hero. His monument may be seen any day in the great Cathedral of St. Paul's — under the loftiest dome in England. But his tomb it is difH- cult to see, for it is beneath the stone floor, in the dark crypt of St. Paul's. We visited the spot one chilly winter's day, descending by a door in the nave, at the southern transept. Our guide was an old man, whose hair clustered in gray curls about his forehead, for he had seen many winters. He carried a lantern in his right hand, and led the way for us. We first visited the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren, the great architect of St. Paul's, and many other famous buildings in London, It is situated nearly under the altar of the former Cathedral The subterranean apartment was dark and gloomy, and tht. rays of the lantern only " made the darkness visible." Not far from the tomb of the great architect, are the remains of 254 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. Bishop Newton. Next to these are those of Sir Joshua Rey- nolds, the painter, and Benjamin West of Pennsylvania. A feeling strange and powerful came over us as we stood there amid the gloom, with our feet upon the dust of Reynolds and West. The two countries — England and America — -were represented in that solemn place of distinguished dead. With the sight of Reynolds' tomb came thoughts of his companions —of sturdy, cross Sam Johnson, and fawning Boswell, and splendid Edmund Burke, and poor but glorious " Goldy" — > the world's Oliver Goldsmith ! The dingy, dreary old place was well calculated to excite one's imagination, and we could see them plainly as living. In a strange corner of the place we saw some decayed elii- gies in stone. One was of Dr. Bonne in his shroud ; another of Lord Chancellor Hatton, and still another of Sir William Cockayne. But now our old guide led us to Nelson's tomb, saying, " Here lies the greatest of them all I" It is immediately under the great dome of St. Paul's, and is shut out from the rest of the crypt by iron palisades Eight stone pillars surround the spot, giving to it the appear- ance of a small temple. The tomb is in the centre. The sarcophagus is of very ancient date, for Cardinal Wolsey ages ago designed it for his own use, but after his fall it was seized by King Henry, and kept at Windsor until the time of George III., who gave it for the body of Nelson. But Nelson was ne-ver placed in it. UjJon this tomb lies the costly sarcopha- gus with Nelson's coronet upon it. This struck us with sur- prise — for what use can be an empty sarcophagus laid upon the tomb of any man ? From historical associations and in- trinsic gorgeousness it is of great value, but is a singular dec- oration to be placed wpon a man's grave. There was an air of awful gloom over and around the spot —we could have seen .lothing but for the guide's lantern. REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 255 The old man seemed lost in thought, and was not garruloug as guides usually are. *• And thig is Nelson's tomb !" said we aloud. "Yes," replied the guide, "but you should have seen his funeral." " Did you see it ?" we asked. j' *' Yes— and a great sight it was.' We begged him to tell us about it. _ " The hearse," said he, " was decorated with models of the Victory — above was a canopy with six black plumes, and a coronet in the centre supported by four columns. The car wag drawn by six splendid horses, each being led. The Prince of Wales followed it, and the Dukes of York, Clarence, Kent, Cumberland, Su§se:s and Cambridge. There were also there many of the noble men who fought his battles with* him. Hardy ^amen wept like children. The great Cathedral was lit up by torches and lamps, as all the sunlight was purposely excluded. Seats were fitted up to accommodate thousands. You should have seen them v/hen all were congregated — - for never will this old Cathedral show such another sight ? One hundred and thirty lamps were suspended from the great dome above, and the effect was imposing. The music was solemn aod grand, and by invisible machinery a bier was? raised from the vault below to the aperture under the dome, and upon Jt the coffin was placed. ^ilor& folded u-p the flags of the Tictory and laid them in the grave. The noble sea- veterans were ^eterojined to secure something as a remem- brance of their great commander^ and each tore off a piece of these flags. The great concourse of people lingered around the spot when the ceremonies were over, as if they eruld not bear to leave." We asked the old man if the masses out of doors mani- fested any sorrow. " Yes — all Londo-n wa» m gloom. Sai^:ors everywhere felt 256 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. that they had lost their brightest ornament. The shops were all closed for the day in the business streets." We again stood before the tombs of Reynolds and West. The old guide manifested no interest in them. And so it is generally — the heroes of war are loved and worshipped by the masses. Nelson in the eyes of the old man, was his country's Eaviour. But to us, Reynolds with his brush and canvass was greater than Nelson upon bis Victory I CHAPTER XV. STRANGERS IN LONDON. AMERICANS. We can hardly understand the reason, but it is a fact that many citizens of America, when traveUing in Europe, seem to lose their democratic principleSj or are at least ashamed of them. As a rule, no travelling people in the world are such sycophants — and we speak advisedly. An. Englishman in America never feels called upon to speak in praise of those institutions among us, which he does not ad- mire in reality. But many Americans in England grow en- thusiastic in praise of the aristocratic institutions of that country. We all remember what Lord Brougham said to the American — and there was ground for it. Too many of them, while in Europe, affect a love for kingcraft and despotism^ and too often the Ambassadors of this country abroad, are rather sympathizers with the nobles than with the people-— with oppressors than with the oppressed. We well remember the advice of a sage friend, given to us before leaving America : " Everywhere you go — be not ashamed of America. You will gain respect by such a course." And we found it ex- actly so. Almost the first evening we spent in English so* ciety, a lady whose mind was bitterly prejudiced against America, said : 17 258 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON, " Your republicanism will not last twenty years, it is not a natural and safe system /" We asked if among the proofs of the naturalness and safety of the English system, she would reckon the fact that there were three millions of paupers in England ? From politics she clianged to literature, saying : *' I admit that you have great reason to be proud of Irving and Cooper— but you have no poets." " Begging your pardon, v/e have," we replied "But none like Shakspeare and Milton!" she said. " Shakspeare and Milton are tio mote yours than ours," we replied. " We are as closely connected with them as you — we are both descendants of the age and race which gave them birth, and that is all either of us can claim." *' But we have Tennyson." •' And wo, Longfellow I" " Well — I applaud you for defending America— but your countrymen scarcely ever do so here I" This remark stung us to the quick, for we knew it to be true. It is well-known throughout England, and is often spoken of— that Americana worship English aristocrats Avhen they are in England, if thereby they can gain the slightest degree of attention. The English Aristocracy know how to win over the American Ministers to their opinions. They tickle hira with flattering attentions ; invite him to their magnificent country=seats, un- til he emulates them in their gorgeous gauds, and his salary is not large enough to meet his expenses. Benjamin Franklin was no sycophant, and still was re» spected by nobles and Idngs. Even in Paris where there is a natural loudness for gewgaws and pageantry, the simple and stern old printer had the reverence of the highest. So if we keep men of real intellect abroad, they will not need to make a. show — but if of small calibre, pomp and circumstance are accessary. As a general rule the Americans are received well in Eng- STRANGERS IN LONDON. 269 lish circles. As a niatter of course the nobles are not spe- cially cordial towards a republican, but even they like an American all the better for daring to defend his native land. Perhaps no American scholar ever was better received in England than Mr. Emerson the poet-lecturer. His reception among the literary and learned classes was of the most flattering nature, and he never showed the slightest symptoms of man-worship. The simplicity of his manners, his total want of worship for mere rank or station, endeared him to all those who knew him intimately. It is perfectly easy for an American who is among the aristocrats of Europe, to cling to his republicanism ; and for sach a course he will obtain great respect from those who profess to despise American theories respecting government. The late Henry Colman was a fine instance of this fa