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WHAT I SAW IN LOIDON; 
 
 OB, 
 
 MEN AND THINGS 
 
 IN 
 
 €\)t (0reat JHBtrnpliff. 
 
 BT 
 
 DAVID W. 'BART LETT. - 
 
 18(5? / 
 
 /^- NEW YOEK: «> 
 C. M. SAXTON, BARKER & CO., 
 25 PARK ROW. 
 1860. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 
 
 D. W. & M. H. BARTLETT, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Connecticut. 
 
 iTHB LIBRARY 
 •r CONGRESS 
 
 WAtHmOTOH 
 
 ss 
 
 
 STEREOTYPED BT 
 
 THOMAS B. SMITH, 
 216 William St., N.Y. 
 
TO 
 
 E. KNIGHT, ESQ., 
 Qil)\3 bolume 
 
 IS GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY 
 INSCRIBED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It is customafy, we believe, to write a preface, if one ven- 
 tures 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 
 may honor it with attention. 
 
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 employment. Our companion during that 
 year 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\'id picture 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. 
 
 The Pines, Avon, Conn., February, 1852. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 -♦-•-»- 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS. p^^gk 
 
 The Shore ^ 11 
 
 Liverpool to Loudon 13 
 
 The Streets 20 
 
 St. Clement's Inn ; 26 
 
 Smithfield 23 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 THE PARKS. 
 
 Hyde Park 32 
 
 Victoria Park 39 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 PLACES AND SIGHTS. 
 
 Christ Church Hospital 42 
 
 Fires 47 
 
 Madame Tassaud's 51 
 
 Gutta Percha Factory .• 56 
 
 fcaint Katharine Docks 59 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PICTURES OF MEN. 
 
 George Cruikshank 63 
 
 Alfred Tennyson 67 
 
vm CONTENTS. 
 
 PAQB 
 
 Charles Dickens "Zl 
 
 K. M. Millies "14: 
 
 Douglas Jerrold '?6 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CUSTOMS AND COSTUMES. 
 
 Customs "78 
 
 Classes , 83 
 
 Costume 87 
 
 Englisli Women 90 
 
 Burials in London 94 
 
 The Country 99 
 
 English Homes lO-t 
 
 Christmas 106 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ENGLISH POVERTY. 
 
 Spitalfields Ill 
 
 Duck Lane 120 
 
 The Poor Tinker 124 
 
 St. Giles 126 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 PERSONS OF NOTE. 
 
 Sir Charles Napier 130 
 
 Duke of Wellington 133 
 
 Macaulay 138 
 
 Browning 140 
 
 Bulwer 141 
 
 William and Mary Howitt 144 
 
 Thomas Carlyle 151 
 
 Ebenezer Elliott 155 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 REMARKABLE PLACES. 
 
 Billingsgate Market 1 60 
 
 rimnu's Tunnel • 163 
 
 The Old Bailey 169 
 
 Somerset House 176 
 
 The Fire Monuiyent 179 
 
 A Jewish Synagogue 184 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACY. page 
 
 The Nobles 1 90 
 
 Eaii 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 OF THE PAST. 
 
 Bunyan's Grave 237 
 
 Stoke Newington 244 
 
 Hampstead and Highgate 245 
 
 Chatterton 249 
 
 Nelson's Tomb 253 
 
 CHAPTER XV^. 
 
 STRANGERS IN LONDON. 
 
 Americans 257 
 
 Grisi and Alboni 260 
 
 Freiligrath 263 
 
 A* 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 POPULAR ORATORS. p^oB 
 
 Edward Miall 208 
 
 Henry Vincent 209 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PULPIT ORATORS. 
 
 DnMcNeQe 275 
 
 Fox 277 
 
 Thomas Binney 280 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "WESTMINSTER ABBEY 283 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MEN AND THINGS. 
 
 Spencer T. Hall 293 
 
 Mr. Muntz 298 
 
 Sir Peter Laurie 301 
 
 Temperance .• 303 
 
 The People 306 
 
 English Habits 311 
 
 Oppression 315 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 
 
 The Opening 318 
 
 The Exhibition 320 
 
 The Close , 303 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 FAREWELL 326 
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 THE SHORE. 
 
 It was a morning in autumn, fair and lovely, when we first , 
 gazed upon the shores of Ireland while on our way from Bos- 
 ton to Liverpool. We had been careering 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 suir was upon it 
 making it radiant with beauty, the hues of the landscape were 
 emerald, and the sky was a mellow-gray — 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 industriously 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 ov«t 
 
12 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 the dangers of the ocean, and to which we were noAv about 
 to bid farewell. 
 
 The wind bore us quickly along our course, and soon wc 
 had crossed the channel over 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 steam-tug — looking puny though in 
 reality our master — favored us with its assistance, we "were 
 surrounded by vessels of all shapes and sizes and from the four 
 quarters 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 
 had never paid duty at a Custom House. 
 
 And finally Liverpool looms up in the distance, with h<y. 
 steeples, her great forest of ships and steamers, and her g' • 
 gantic docks. We are no longer at the sport of the w^inds, 
 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 
 unpleasant 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 aflbrd 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 our 
 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 seemea 
 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 
 yeai-s, 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 steam-horse startle the wild deer in 
 their lonely haunts. 
 
14 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 When the American lands in Liverpool, the first sight 
 which bursts upon him is of the duays and Docks, and their 
 solid masonry strikes him -with 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 winters. 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 he con- 
 sidered madness to run trains upon a line with 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 ; how careful the officers 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 thia 
 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 came in 
 a first-class car he was, however, better satisfied with its com- 
 fort and ease than its price, for upon the whole, American 
 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 on 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 
 
S-IRST IMPRESSIONS. 15 
 
 coming from Liverpool to London we were shut up in a car 
 with an Englishman whose profession^was, judging hy ap- 
 cearancep, commercial. He eyed us from head to foot as 
 carefully as if we had heen 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 would 
 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 as 
 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 who 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 while 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 from 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 his conduct to such, if they 
 are his friends, he is grand ! 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 him 
 to somewhere west of Charing Cross, or to Moiley'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 was severely mortified, or affected to be 
 so, 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 Hotel, he very soon learns that 
 paying for fashion is vastly dearer in London than paying for 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 17 
 
 it ill New York. It is quite a different thing, living in the 
 metropolis of England like a gentleman of wealth and blood, 
 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 three times 
 the amount for any kind of an establishment by the month or 
 six months, that you would pay in Boston or New York. 
 You can get nothing, look at nothing, without paying dearly 
 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 the fine 
 Square which contains the Reservoir and Nelson's Monument. 
 You are not 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 
 it, and wander down southward toward the river Thames. 
 A sight of Westminster Abbey suddenly bursts upon you, and 
 tJie7i you are struck dumb with awe at the age and glorioua 
 beauty of the scene, and when you remember how many cen- 
 turies the brave old building has withstood the beatings of 
 
 2 
 
18 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 the winter storms — ^how many summers' suns have gilded its 
 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 ! H | 
 
 Another and a more gorgeous spectacle presents itself to 
 your wondering eyes — the new 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 more than those who have been born among it. 
 
 You are surprised with the number, the splendor and mag- 
 nificence 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 former paradise to this unsightly hell — 
 and all, too, within a stone's throw of the glorious old Abbey ! 
 You never will 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 
 
FIRST 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 he in the 
 vicinity of the Exchange, you very soon venture east — east, 
 into that wild wilderness of misery and suffering called Spit- 
 alfields. 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, hut are herded together, 
 thieves, prostitutes, robbers and working-men, in frightful 
 masses. You meet heggars 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 wealtR and terrible poverty ; great 
 virtue 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 ! 
 
 THE STREETS, &o. 
 
 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-i'oom, 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- 
 ings 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. Thera 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 21 
 
 is a grandeur in its width, in the lofty beauty of its buildings, 
 which are simple though rich, which we have scarcely if 
 ever seen otherwheres. The western part of Piccadilly is a 
 splendid street, and is very fashionable, as the Duke of Wel- 
 ington 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 
 from Chai'ing 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 pf 
 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 Glueen of territories so vast that the sun never 
 sets upon them avails her nothing then — she must sue for 
 admittance like a very beggar ! 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 Q,ueen!" 
 
 Then the gates are opened, and amid protestations of loyalty 
 and love the monarch enters the city of London ! The cus- 
 tom seems to outsidei's 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 ! 
 
 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- 
 mony 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 
 still did not wish the trouble of a husband, came to the Fleet 
 
FIKST IMPRESSIONS. 23 
 
 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. " Picnch" 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 Xg 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 
 when 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 their crowds of people, and car- 
 nages of all descriptions. Standing by Nelson's Column one 
 3an on one hand see the splendid equipages of the aristocracy, 
 
24 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 and on 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 Charing," 
 and erected a cross in honor of the resting-place. There 
 were then but few buildings there — what a change I Upon 
 the identical spot where the cross was 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 4ipon 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 fire 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 sufteted like a 
 Christian martyi*. 
 
 We have often, when on the spot, contrasted the noise and 
 tumult of the scene around it w^ith the quiet and beautiful 
 grrave of one of the regicides on the Green in the city of New 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS. Jc'J 
 
 Haven — the calm and natural death of one, with the liorribio 
 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 Dean 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 tht 
 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- 
 sliop in Russell-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 gi'eat 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 againsi tliu cause of liberty. 
 
 There is a building in Holborn-street, now occupied bv a 
 
 8 
 
26 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 wholesale d'^ler 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 Cliatterton 
 he seemed never to have heard before I It was there that 
 Chatterton lived for a short time and perished. It was there 
 that, after being deserted by friend after I'riend, and while on 
 the point of starvation, with his own hands he ended his 
 young life. He was dying by inches with hunger, while tlie 
 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 I But the world has not sufiered his name and mem- 
 ory to perish ; and thougii no shaft of marble m^' ever tell 
 the stranger where his dust lies, yet he shall never, so long 
 as the English language lives, be foi-gotten ! He lives as 
 well as Horace Walpole, and it is easier to forgive liis 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 slied upon him, 
 grew fastidious and proud, and despised God's image unlesis 
 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 little 
 
FIliST IMPKESSIONS. 27 
 
 shops, a clustt'T of oranire-wonien, and hot-potato-boys, we 
 came to the conclusion that tlie i>rand entrance must have 
 been the work of some madman wlio 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 Tadpole,") Mr. 
 Gudge the lawyer, had his office beyond these pillars, and his 
 poor clerk used to come and buy a hot potato occasionally of 
 Stipler, 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 enclosed 
 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, Avere 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 iu 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 
 others nearly rusted out with age. The noise of the Strand 
 floated indistinctly, in surges, to our ears, for a thick breast- 
 w'brk 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 we plunged into the uproar and confusion of 
 the street — it seemed like passing from death once more into 
 life! 
 
 SMITHFIELD. 
 
 Some distance to the north-east of St. Clement's Inn is 
 Smithfield 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 Barbicati." 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 29 
 
 Although it was very early when we stood with " Smith- 
 neld" before us yet the market was full 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 r*> 
 side 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- 
 Efether in a common centre, and a good driver without rope or 
 centre-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 tho 
 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 like the field of Waterloo — a place 
 which men take pleasure in visiting, in honor of heroic deeds, 
 for Waterloo is yet a beautiful spot, while Srnlthfield 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 Smithfield, for previously 
 the name of " Smithfield" had a sound of heroic martyrdom 
 in it, but henceforth its name is redolent of trafllc 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 disgi-ace ! 
 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 wealth 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 I 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 the spot where the martyrs perished, and it would be a 
 sacred place to the Protestants of the world. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 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 ! 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 is 
 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 stoiTiachs 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 
 
32 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Metropolis It has its Botanical and Zoological Gardens, its 
 Hippopotamus, and in fact all manner of wild beasts, so that 
 the million go there, not for fresh air, or to exhibit them- 
 selves, but to see its curious sights, just as they flock to the 
 JNational Gallery, or the Museum. 
 
 The only park where people may be said to go to see, and 
 be seen, is Hyde Park, and ;is it is the only fashionable one in 
 London, is worthy of a careful description. , 
 
 Its extent is not far from 400 acres. Regent's Park has an 
 area of over 400 ; St. James of 83 ; Kensington Gardens, 
 290 ; Green Park, 71 ; Victoria Park, 160 ; and Green- 
 wich Park, 174. So that London is very well off for breath- 
 ing-spots, considering the immense worth of space where 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- 
 spectability. Piccadilly runs into it ; " Belgravia" ''the region 
 of Belgrave Square) lies a trifle to the south-east of it, while 
 Bromiiton 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 until 
 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 ♦ashion th-ere, 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 buift, 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 the year, — the faslrionables 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 London. On Park Lane corner, we 
 hesitated a moment, to gaze at the residence of Mr. Abbott 
 Lawrence, 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 visozd for the Continent. We, 
 with the friend with us, were treated with great politeness. 
 In fact all the oflScers 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 
 beheve, held his post for a long time — is worthy of all praise. 
 So far as our own experience 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 Wellington, which stands on the left, we 
 
 passed under the archway into the Park. 
 B* „ 
 
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 !" 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 army 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 hira, 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. 35 
 
 But now the spacious Park lay spread out before our eyea 
 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 aflect English 
 grass as it does that in America. It seemed like a country 
 view, if only Piccadilly and Knightsbridge could have been shut 
 out from the scene. The Serpentine River looked beautiful 
 in the morning's sun, stretching gracefully away into Kensing- 
 ton Gardens. We walked down to the edge ot' 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 mornini!; 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 
 
 Hiuidreds 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 
 
36 WHAT X SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 there are weeks together when there is skating on the Ser- 
 pentine, but that is a rare thing. A few days of" ice- weather 
 is almost always followed hy 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 Crystal Palace, or building of the Grreat 
 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 
 shoAved well from almost any quarter save the thoroughfare 
 in front of it, which was 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 thrilling notes, and yet of far more importance. 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 workrhen'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 
 s"«"^pt back across her argent neck in curls, while her eyes 
 were like diamonds. The other had cheeks which might 
 rival the most delicate rose, the crimson and marble were so 
 exquisitely intei-mixed. 
 
 " 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 !" 
 
 Yet they were very beautiful, and probably wealthy, and a 
 Health was theirs, which the women of fashion never know. 
 
THE PARKS. 3*7 
 
 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. Riding 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 
 Avho 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 tbe 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 fancy 
 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, 
 the charge escaping his body only by a hair's breadth. 
 
 •But we have spoken of this Park as the park of fashion, 
 and must say something of its appearance when it is in all 
 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 
 splendidly-attired, ladies, who are coatiuually nodding (how 
 very slightly I) their heads to this person and that, while the 
 horses slowly pace up one pathway and down another. Yon- 
 der you see the carriage of the Field Marshal, Duke of Wel- 
 lington, and in it sits an old man with white hairs, and a 
 back bent with age, and a nose never to be mistaken — the 
 Roman 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 when 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 been 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 to be the day when the Park is fullest — 
 then there are sometimes 30,000 or 40,000 people in it. 
 
 VICTORIA PARK. 
 
 But from looking at the Park of fashion let us turn to the 
 Victoria Park. We visited it one Sunday afternoon, because 
 nothing is to be seen in it save on Sundays, when the labor- 
 ing 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 is 
 a beautiful park. Its enti'ance-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 spots 
 within ten or fifteen miles of London, in any direction. 
 
 The proximity of Bethnal Green is apt 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 — with 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 jdeasant. The streets were 
 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 way 
 through them, the odors that greeted us at every step were 
 so nauseating. 
 
 After a long walk we came to Bethnal 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-louking set of men. They 
 are not like the English farmers with their red cheeks and 
 lusty 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 ! hypocrite Lord Ashley has established a reading- 
 room for working-men I 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 
 
 which we can find there is the bloody Times ! That pa- 
 per which calls the noble Mazzini a scoundrel, which eu- 
 logizes butcher Haynau, which is paid for its advocacy of 
 despotism by Austria — that, is the paper which my Lord 
 Ashley dares to offer us to read ! He and the proprietors 
 of that paper pretend to love us, and yet refuse to give us 
 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 the 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- 
 tailed some of the abominations which are practised under 
 tiie " 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 
 moment 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 
 
42 WHAT I SATV 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 churches 
 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 
 while 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 great 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 where 
 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. 43 
 
 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, 
 whore 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 HI. 
 
 PLACES AND SIGHTS. 
 CHUIST-CHURCH HOSPITAL. 
 
 Walking 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 
 upon 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 weathers, 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 
 oblivion. 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- 
 cumbrance, preaching a silent sermon in favor of Bloomer- 
 ism at the same time. Some played at ball, others at the 
 old 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 thene 
 we lived them over again. 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. 46 
 
 We remembered that gentle Eliu, quaiut 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 dinner 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 gallows ; 
 and at last it became evident that he tvas a thief ; that the 
 bits of meat which he saved at dinner (I'rom 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, sufiering 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 fre-h 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 while 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 IK LONDON. 
 
 master in after life, he looks upon him with a shuddering dis- 
 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 hei-e, 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 
 River. 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 tiie 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, which 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 
 \i'hich 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 enough 
 to keep out all literally poor boys. ' It is a ^'erv common 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. 47 
 
 thin? in this world to see in such benevolent institutions the 
 wishes of the founder completely 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 attend 
 to their 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 insured. The, reason, 
 which as a matter of course is a selfish oi^e, 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 always 
 
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 
 fire-engines, well mounted upon strong cars, to which are at- 
 tached two or four powerful horses. The gates are always 
 open, the horses harnessed, and the lines in the hands of a 
 driver. Besides the driver, thei'e 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 Avhen 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 rflust get out of its way, and give it a clear 
 path, for it is flying on an errand of mercy — to save life and 
 property. 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-companies 
 only obtain charters on condition of giving all the water 
 which is needed for fires, free of cost. A suitable baud of 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. 49 
 
 nif.n for M'orking the engines is soon gathered from the crowd, 
 by oflering tweuty-four cents for the first hour, twelve for the 
 next, and so on, besides a foast of bread and cheese and ale, 
 to wind ofi" with. Twenty to thirty men are needed to work 
 each engine, but a fire 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 M'ork 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-bargained-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 jn 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 
 
60 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Insurance Companies can well afford to pay large sums rathei 
 than dispense with their energy and skill. The men are as 
 completely under the control of officers as are soldiers, and 
 when one is commanded to undertake anything, if it he 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 great 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 
 awak&n 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-squirts of brass as will 
 furnish two for every parish, four and twenty pick-axe sledges 
 and forty shod-shovels." 
 
 Another item obliged every Alderman who had passed the 
 office of shrievality to provide " four and twenty buckets 
 and one hand-squirt of brass," and all those who had been 
 sheriffs to provide " t'^'elve buckets and one hand-squirt of 
 brass I" 
 
 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 ia 
 insured every year. 
 
 Some years since the aurora-borealis so completely deceived 
 the London Fire Brigade, that from eleven o'clock at night 
 till six in the morning, twelve engines with seventy-five men 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. 51 
 
 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- 
 land, 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 XVI., and the palace at Ver- 
 sailles was her home. 
 
52 WHAT I SAY." IN LONDON. 
 
 During the awful reign of terror her patrons were mur- 
 derea around her, and she, herself, ran great rislcs, and was 
 exposed to the most imminent perils. Her genius was her 
 safeguard, for the State could not spare her services, and the 
 authorities made her State ModeMer. She was obliged to 
 take 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- 
 hibition 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 k/ 
 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 ornar 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. 53 
 
 ments in the Louis Cluatorze 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 jftiy other for gazing upon the whole group, of 
 groups. The blazing light, the figures, and the mass of vis- 
 itors, from the height of fashionable cii'cles 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 wax 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 of 
 the aisles a figure, entitled " The Sleeping Beauty," arrested 
 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, and 
 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 all 
 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 
 smiling 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 
 difficult 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 I" 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. 65 
 
 smile, turned away ; young men have been known to naake 
 love to sucli " 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 a;t a cost of $90,000. Glueen Elizabeth was 
 there, all bedizened with jewels, and close at her side Glueen. 
 Mary of Scotland — her victim — arrayed in a plain mourning 
 suit. 
 
 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, all 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 Perclia 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 manvifactory without leaving his desk, by simply 
 applying his lips to difierent mouth-pieces close at hand, "the 
 sound being carried through gutta percha tubes to the far- 
 thest corner of the vast building. 
 
 Li a few minutes, we repaired to the cutting department. 
 Here the lumps of gutta percha are sliced into thin 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 with 
 rows of teeth, revolving eight hundred times per minute, and 
 which tear the mas.?es of gutta percha into infinitesimal 
 shreds The shreds are put into cold water, the gutta percha 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. 57 
 
 pure and ^.xnalloyed rising to the surface, while the dirt and 
 refuse matter sinks to the bottom. 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-machlnes, 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 percha 
 comes 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 shoemaker, 
 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 — when cold, 
 it adhei-es better than if it bad 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 
 
 four 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 
 
 with 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 inter- 
 venes betvA'een them. 
 
 Next we visited the most interesting department of all — 
 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 witJiout the usual air-buoys, 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. 59 
 
 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, 
 connected 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 procured 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 
 
60 AVHAT 'I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 lamps attached to long sticks were given to each of us, and 
 a conductor accompanied us over the vaults. The outside 
 walk of one of the vaults is a mile in length, and it runs 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 were piled one above 
 another to the wall overhead, and little aisles were made 
 rUtming away across the vaults, so that they could be easily 
 traversed. A kind of sawdust filled ^ap the walks, so 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 
 show the quality of the wine, as is the custom when trying 
 to sell to customers. This is the way a majority of the wines 
 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 AmericauiS, 
 yet it is true that often ladies of wealth and respectability 
 come away from them tipsy. The conductor assured us 
 that it teas, a common 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 pa'-ty of ladies 
 and gentlemen, who having made a tour of the '-^aults, 
 
PLACES AND SIGHTS. Gl 
 
 finished the visit by 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 w^ine 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 difierent marks on the casks of our friend's port wine — 
 such 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 works are iminense 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 waterier minute 
 can be pump'^d into the docks ; or 35,000 gallons. 
 
 The botthng 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 duties 
 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 wei-e much pleased with the 
 indigo warehouses, and especially with the one devoted to dye 
 gums, and so forth. The overseer gave us a bit of incense- 
 gum, used mostly in cathedrals, and which sells as high as 
 $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 I 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 which bis "gin" is made. So in the matter of 
 " port wine," the drinker may feel glad to know that far 
 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 scarcely 
 necessary. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PICTURES OF MEN. 
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. - 
 
 There are few people in. America who have not heard of 
 that erratic yet 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 opinions whatever, upon any subject disconnected 
 
64 WHAT I SAW IN L0N130N. 
 
 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 was 
 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 
 liquors. 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- 
 tinguished as an artist, that his presence is counted as a gi-eat 
 favor. A public meeting never goes off in London with eclat 
 unless several distinguished men are present. Earls, Dukes, 
 and Lords, though noodles in point of intellect, make an im- 
 pression 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 Robert 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 young, and studied 
 cnaracters in low life along the banks of the river Thames. 
 He could never have risen to so high a position as he has 
 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 choicesi, drawing-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 was his 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, but 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 has invariably refused to cai'icature 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, Richard 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 pecuniary hurt. Protes- 
 tants admired his consistency, while they deplored his religious 
 principles and belief. 
 
 The acknowledged talent of Cruikshank is such, that he 
 has ten times 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 no superior in London 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 
 from what he had seen, he had no doubt that he should be 
 well 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 ! A portion of the aristocracy are so 
 
PICTURES OF MEN. 61 
 
 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 TENNYSQN. 
 
 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, ibr 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 
 passionate 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 h^ad-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 I 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 ?' 
 Some one has, I dare say, been reading it to him I" 
 
 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 
 tlmt it has been more than hinted, that he has been a suflerer 
 through his affections, 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. 
 
 " Locks! ey Hall," is one of his most impassioned, burning 
 poems, and yet it is a simple story, and quite common in this 
 material 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 poet. 
 
 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 
 sufi'er. With the melancholy, there is a modesty, as if he 
 shrank from general observation, as he does in fact. In his 
 fine 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 
 
VO WHAT I SAW IN LONDOW. 
 
 mere Beauty, he has neglected Truth. That he has not 
 asserted the glory of mere manhood, and has been too willing 
 to agree with the aristocratic and conventional usages and 
 opinions which 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 " Afiectation 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 ! 
 
 Two years later, a second volume was issued by the poet, 
 and at first it met with a poor reception. He then waited 
 ten years 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 office may tend to narrow his ideas of freedom. Such 
 iiowever need not be the case, though Wordsworth wrote 
 
PICTURES OF MEN. ^1 
 
 some very foolish and abject verses in his capacity of Poet 
 to the Gtueen. It might have been as well to have given the 
 honor to Leigh Hunt, who by nature — of late years — is 
 sycophantic. 
 
 Of Tennyson's early life and education, we 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 qualities — full of geniality, 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" " Wal'r," 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 I 
 
 The " mistake of his lifetime," was the publication of the 
 " American Notes." Englishmen were disappointed in them, 
 though not chagi'ined, 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 IN LONDON. 
 
 as it may, as a whole, the " Notes" were a libel upon Amer 
 ica, and Cliarles Dickens is sorry for his foolish act. We 
 know that he denies this in the preface to a late edition ol 
 the " Notes," 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 doubf 
 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 
 Jtiigh — 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 bailiffs. 
 
 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. 73 
 
 Mr. 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, niainJy 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 clown the innocent and young 
 For every fi-agile 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." 
 
 Truly 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 1 SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 popularity lies in the homely, natural beauty of his writings. 
 His hutnor is irresi-tihle, 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 Swiveller, and hated ugly Gluilp ; 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 stoiy 
 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 Parliament. 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 
 oftener 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 
 Bong and sentiment, and possesses an acute ear, as well as 
 the power to construct rhymes which will satisfy the nicest 
 critic. 
 
 When we first visited the House of Commons, Mr. Milnes 
 was pointed out to us, and when we gazed upon his chaste 
 and beautiful brow, and saw the flash of intelligence in his 
 eye, we saw that he had at least the outward form of genius 
 
riCiXKES OF MEN. 75 
 
 But ill poetic capabilities he has been surpassed by men 
 whose names are uukiiowa to the world. How few are there 
 with us who ever lieard tiie name of Charles Tennyson ? 
 Alfred Tennyson tlie world worships as a poet — but does it 
 know Charles Tennyson ? Such a person there is, in or near 
 London, who has written some of the most 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 averse since 
 when he issued that little volume. The book, now nearly 
 out of print, overflowed with 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 w^as 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- 
 merit of all personal ambition in favor of a brother perhaps 
 st'.il 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 : 
 
 ' 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 donbt 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 ! 
 Thine eyes of purest love give surest sign. 
 
i WHAT I SAV, 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 !" 
 
 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 brilliant 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 
 the 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*7 
 
 man awoke from a half delirium to find himself beardless, tc 
 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 Avine. 
 
 The father of Mr. Jerrold was 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 " Rent 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- 
 umes, a work of much abiUty. 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 war. 
 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 
 saw 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. 79 
 
 In the matter of carriages, too, the stranger from America 
 is struck with surprise. The family carriages of the aristoc- 
 racy are perhaps the most magnificent of any in the world. 
 Thousands of dollars are often expended on the grand family 
 carriage, and when the family comes to town for tAe season, 
 from the country, they come by railway, yet in the family 
 carriage, for it is a peculiar featui-e to England, that private 
 families ride by 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 
 m England by rail, without noticing on every train one (or 
 more), private carriage attached. 
 
 With 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 
 xised with us. We have often wondered why such unwieldy 
 and enormous things are contirmed 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 twice 
 as heavy as is necessary, and are constructed M'ith little in- 
 genuity. 
 
 The omnibuses are tolerably well constructed, and are al- 
 ways, when the road is clear, driven with speed. They hold 
 twelve in 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 stranger 
 finds it impossible to understand them. We were one evening 
 at a family party M'here 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 " Iiis-la I" " Ins-la !" 
 Other names are murdered in a still more atrocious manner 
 by these unmannerly follows. 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 travellei's, 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 such 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 gai-ments with 
 filth, and it might be supposed that it woukl 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 
 60 neat and dry, but continued practice has nnade 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 wf. the mud, and tripping 
 along on tiptoe with admirable skill, or perhaps walking Avith 
 wooden clogs under her shoes. Some of them will walk miles 
 in this manner, preserving their dresses and skirts in their 
 original purity. The natural loudness 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 
 
 totvn, 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 m it only a few. Those 
 families not rich enough for country-seats and carriages, do 
 not hesitate to get their exercise on foot, and 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 passenger-trade 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 three 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 public, 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 loiv enough to suit anybody, we are sure. A few 
 
82 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 years since one of tlie cheap boats burst its boiler, and great 
 was the excitement over England, though, if we recollect 
 aright, only one man was killed. 
 
 There are hali-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 makes 
 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 fingers, 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 
 foreigner has no signification whatever. Why physical 
 
COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 83 
 
 weariness should be styled "knocked up"-ness, we cannot 
 possiblj^ imagine. 
 
 The word " guess" has no such signification in England, 
 as is given to it in Yankee-land. However we have high 
 authority lor clinging to our use of the word. The old 
 authors used it in the same manner. 
 
 Ever since Judge Halliburton, of Nova Scotia, wrote his 
 " Sam Slick," Englishmen have supposed that the dialect of 
 that, worthy gentleman, is the dialect of pretty much the 
 whole American people.. Whenever any journalist wishes 
 to give Jonathan a severe hit, the expressions, " tarnation 
 smart" 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 /j, 
 where it should be used, and vice versa, and others give every 
 letter a wrong sound. Surely it ill becomes any one belong- 
 ing to such a country to find 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 gentlemen, 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 Avhich would profit them. How 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 the 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, histead of poor clerks with pale faces hurrying away 
 on errands, or portly merchants going to, or returning from the 
 Exchange. At the prdper 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 employed. 
 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 i'asliion- 
 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 womeu is 
 
COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 85 
 
 sweeter, fairer, more delicately beautiful, than even an 
 En>rlish 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 
 mto 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 difierent 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 c;innot 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 witoher}^ and her face all 
 smiles, and you know that s7^e has never known career suffer- 
 ing. Contrast her fair merry countenance with the pale 
 anxious face of the trembling 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 busy thoroughfares, and we con- 
 fess that he always looks as if out of his place. He always 
 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 hisopiiiinn, 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 waistcoat. He is generous to a fault, as you would 
 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. 
 He 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 the same class in London. 
 
 The chimney-sweeps are a class that could not well be 
 dispensed with, and they are a singular class, too. Their 
 cries may be heard in every street, early in th*" morning, as 
 
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 brutal master while it was "yet warm, 
 and when he came down he was almost smothered, and so 
 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 rrvore 
 attention to all "the pomp and circuinstance" 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, 
 and 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 as 
 soon as evening comes he becomes sober, and a rigid etiquette 
 obliges him to wear a dress of black. But the clergyman 
 lannot even vary his color, nor wear moustaches, though he 
 ^an 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 maimers. 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 distinguish- 
 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- 
 agance of the courts of Elizabeth and James I. It is said 
 that the shoes worn by Sir Walter Raleigh on levee-days 
 were worth more than thirty thousand dollars, they were so 
 studded with precious stones, and the rest of his attire was in 
 a similar style of extravagance. A couple of pounds will 
 now slioe the best peer in England. 
 
 The artists complain of the periuriousness 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 difl'erence in the 
 effect 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 lastened by brooches on the shoulders. Prince Albert and 
 dueen 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 
 costumes, 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 ; probabl/ 
 It was introduced for the accommodation of the ladies of the 
 court, who were of easy virtue — such is the opinion of good 
 judges. Certain it is that public sentiment had a good share 
 in driving the fashion out of existence, by accusing those who 
 clung 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 
 difierently shaped from ours, and altogether they are lacking 
 ill 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 di'essed 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 ol' 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 
 purchased, 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 I" and after much observation we ai-e 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 sam • 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 
 see such unmistakable liealth 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 
 hued with the rose ; the forehead exuberant ; the eye large 
 and beautiful ; the chest well developed ; and — we confess it 
 — the feet somewhat large I 
 
 We at first were tempted to denominate the beauty of Eng- 
 lish 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 icomen 
 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 ! If she goes out, it is in her softly- 
 cushioned carriage, with servants to wrap her carefully away 
 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-officer, in a hot dan- 
 cing-assembly. Never 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 in 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 nimble 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, w6 ventured to ask — 
 " Are you not very tired ?" 
 
 The reply was, and accompanied by a merry laugh, 
 " To be sure not — 1 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 flowers, 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. Browiiingr, iu " Lady Geraldine's Conrlsliip," has a 
 beautilul 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 wliich trembled, a green shadow, in betwixt her and the skies,— 
 As 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 wliirring near us, till we felt the air it bore. 
 
 " There obedient to her praying, did I read aloud the poems 
 Made by Tuscan flutes." 
 
 Enghsh 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 purity of mind and manners to be found among our 
 women, to the less refined habits of English ladies. There is 
 a beauty also among the rural women of America, which in 
 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 England. 
 
 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 be- 
 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 ? 
 In Paris, city burials were long ago abolished. It is the 
 same in almost all Euro|iean 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 
 importance that the inhabitants of American 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 tvithout the confines of the lowu may 
 spring up, and that public opinion Avill 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 Loudon, 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 true. They were 
 sworn to by men to be trusted, before a Committee of the 
 , 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 sj^eculatioji, a Methodist 
 J Church in New Kent E-oad, 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, not buried, but piled 
 up iu 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, hy a minister, as a speculation, in Clement's Lane 
 in the Strand, close on to that busiest thoroughfare in the 
 world. He opened the upper 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 29 and 6 deep, 12,000 bodies have been interred! 
 It was dangerous to sit in the church ; faintings occurred 
 every day in it, and sickness, and for some distance about it, 
 life was not safe. And yet people not really knowing the 
 itate of things, never thought of laying anything to the vault 
 under the chapel. 
 
 But perhaps the reader will exercise his aiithmetical 
 powers, and sny that it would be impossible to bury 12,000 
 persons in so small a place, within twenty years. He does 
 not understand the manner in which the speculating parson 
 managed his affairs. It came out before the Committee of 
 the House of Commons, that sixty loads of " mingled dirt and 
 human remains" were carted away from the vault at differ- 
 ent times, and thrown into the Thames the other side of 
 Waterloo Bridge. Once a portion of a load fell off in the 
 street, and the crowd picked up out of it a humair skull. It 
 was no longer safe to cart away the remains, and yet the 
 reverend speculator could not afford to lose his fine income 
 from the burials, and so his ever-busy intellect invented a 
 novel mode of getting rid of the bodies — he used great quan- 
 tities of quicklime ! But quicklime would not devour coffins, 
 and so they were split up and burnt in secret by the owner 
 
COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 97 
 
 of the chapel. Several witnesses swore to this before the 
 Committee. Said one of them : 
 
 " I have seen the man and his wife burn thera ; it is quite 
 a common thing." 
 
 It may be said that this state of things has passed away — 
 but such is not the fact. We have ourselves looked into an 
 open grave which was filled up with cofRns to within a foot 
 of the surface of the ground, and that too within ten rods of 
 one of the busiest streets in London. A friend of ours as- 
 sured us he has witnessed of late, things quite as horrible as 
 any that were related before the Committee of the House of 
 Commons. 
 
 It was proved that very many of the churches in London 
 were in the habit of carting away the remains of bodies at 
 intervals to make room for the later dead. St. Martin's, in 
 Ludgate, St. Anne's, in Soho, St. Clement's, in Portugal- 
 street, and many others were proved guilty of the practice. 
 
 W, Chamberlain, grave-digger at St. Clement's, testified 
 that the ground was so full of bodies that he could not make 
 a new grave " without coming into other graves." He said : 
 " We have come to bodies quite perfect, and we have cut 
 parts away with choppers and pickaxes. We have opened 
 the lids of coffins, and the bodies have been so perfect that 
 we could distinguish males from females ; and all those have 
 been chopped and cut up. During the time I was at this 
 work, the flesh has been cut up in pieces and thrown up be- 
 hind the boards which are placed to keep the ground up 
 where the mourners are standing — and when the mourners 
 are gone this flesh has been thrown in and jammed down, 
 ! and the coffins taken away and burnt." 
 
 i An assistant grave-digger testified that, happening to see 
 i. his companion one day chopping off' the head of a coffin, he 
 t saw that it ivas Jus own father' s ! Another digger testified 
 I th^t bodies were often cut through when they had been 
 
 7 
 
98 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 buried only three weeks. Another testified to things more 
 horrible than ever Dante saw in hell. He says: " One day 
 I was trying the length of a grave to see if it was long and 
 wide enough, and while I was there the ground gave way, 
 and a body turned right over, and the two arms came and 
 clasped me round the neck I" 
 
 We beg the pardon of the reader for relating such horrible 
 facts — but they occurred in Lotidon, and the cities and towns 
 of America may well profit by them. There need not be 
 such terrible curses attending a crowded state of population, 
 but such will be the case eventually in our own towns unless 
 we take warning, 
 
 When one thinks of the thousands in London who must 
 look forward to a burial in the pent-up church-yards in the 
 city, it makes the heart ache. To think of burying a kind 
 mother so — of following a dear sister to such a grave I Yet 
 thousands from poverty must do so. 
 
 Contrast with such spots the sweet though lovely burial- 
 grounds in the country, with its tall cedars, its solemn cy- 
 presses, and its grassy mounds, over which afifection lingers 
 and weeps. The church-spire is old and kindly iu its look, 
 the breezes are solemn and pure — oh the contrast I 
 
 We once made a delightful journey into an old and ancient 
 part of England with a friend, going on foot miles away 
 from the line of railway in a quiet old village, which seemed 
 a thousand years old. The reader can hardly imagine the 
 quaintness of everything there — the sweet quietness which 
 brooded over theneglected spot. After a meal by ourselves 
 in the ancient inn of the place, we wandertd out into the 
 village streets and over the fields. The feople seemed old 
 and quaint, but the beauty of the hills and valleys we never 
 saw surpassed. Wandering at will we at length came to 
 the village church and burial-ground. The church stood 
 _i the Hiidst of a field of graves, and was nearly covered 
 
COSIUMKS AND CUSTOMS. 99 
 
 with rrreen runners and vines. There were ancient tombs 
 grassed over and mossed over by centuries ; there were cedars 
 of Lebanon, and solemn cypresses, and flowers, and all that 
 is holy and beautiful. We entered the little gate and walked 
 slowly from tomb to tomb, reading the solemn inscriptions 
 with chastened thoughts. The sun was almost down, but 
 shone with a solemn splendor upon the spot, and the grave- 
 stones cast long shadows to the eastward. We could hear 
 faintly in the distance the murmurs of a waterfall, and the 
 music seemed plaintive there. There was no music, no eager 
 life, but the spirit of holy Q,uiet was there. Gradually the 
 shadows grew longer, until at last the burning sun drept 
 down behind the western hills, and the church-yard was in 
 gloom. 
 
 A gentle south wind sprung up among the Lebanon cedars 
 in tones of sorrow ; the tall grass waved to and fro over the 
 graves, and so like the close of a good man's life closed the 
 day. 
 
 And that spot is a place where one could love to weep 
 over a dear, departed friend. There, among the flowers and 
 branches, sunshine and shadow's, one could rest over a moth- 
 er's or a sister's grave, and look forward to a home there, as a 
 place where to 
 
 " Wrap the draperj"^- of his couch around him, 
 And lie down to pleasant dreams." 
 
 THE COUNTRY. 
 
 The beauty of the country portions of England, and espe- 
 cially those which surround London, cannot be too much ex- 
 tolled. There is a serenity in it, a holy sweetness, which 
 charms one like music. There is great difference in locali- 
 ties, but whether one rambles in the region of London, or 
 along, the valley of the Wye, or among the hills of Derby- 
 
100 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 shire, it matters not — he is sure of being entranced. By na- 
 ture England was not possessed of extraordinary charms, but 
 Industry has made it what it is. Every acre is cultivated, 
 and cultivated thoroughly. The hills are covered with the 
 richest verdure, the valleys teem with golden acres of crops, 
 with tall, ancient trees, and gentle streams, and birds which 
 sing with wonderful sweetness. Old castles, haunted with 
 delightful reminiscences, quaint legends, and historical truths, 
 are scattered over the country everywhere, and the farm- 
 houses possess the prettiest farmers' daughters ever seen. 
 
 It is true that an American cannot forget while among such 
 delicious beauty, the utter wretchedness which is scattered 
 among it. Close by magnificent parks, containing thousands 
 of acres of the richest soil, devoted to deer, and trees, and all 
 that is charming and exquisite, there are men and women and 
 little children starving. Let beauty, voluptuousness, and luxury, 
 never exist at the expense of humanity ! The nobles of Eng- 
 land are so accustomed to that which shocks us, that they do 
 not appear to notice the horrible contrast which lies in full 
 view of their hall windows. Their system causes the poverty 
 and wretchedness around them, and they ease their consciences 
 in a devotion to Beauty and Art I 
 
 The country churches with their grave-yards are the sad- 
 dest, sweetest places in the world. There is none of that bar- 
 barous taste exhibited, which distinguishes certain portions of 
 America. We have Greenwood, and Auburn, but in how 
 many of our villages and country towns are the burial-places 
 a disgrace to a civilized people. How it makes one shudder 
 to pass by such spots, and think that in them sleep the forms 
 of those once dear, and that the friends left to mourn them 
 manifest no care of their last resting-place. 
 
 Wc stopped at sunset once to see the burial-place of an- 
 cient Wendover, and as we rested, the lines of Mrs. Brown- 
 mg, in the "Duchess May," came to mind : 
 
COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 101 
 
 " In the belfry, one by one, went the ringers from the sun — 
 
 T(jU slowly ! ♦.' 
 
 Six abeles i' the kirk-yard grow, on the north side in a fow, — 
 
 Toll sloidij ! 
 And the shadows of their tops roclc 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 fair 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 ! 
 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, — 
 
 Toll sloivly ! 
 While the trees and river's voices flowed 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 ou 
 the wheel-house, 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 I'' 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 
 health's sake ; others were men of capital, going to their 
 splendid homes down the river, where famous dinners were 
 awaiting them ; it was too late for the pleasure-seekers. At 
 every place where our boat touched, some one or more of our 
 party deserted the boat — and now our turn was come, the 
 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 aAvay 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 lay 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. How difierent 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 
 hedge, 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-mown 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 
 sun 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 ; no 
 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 upon 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 
 princves. 
 
 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 tlie blood of 
 kings coursing in their veins. As we approached the ruined, 
 building, a rabbit leaped out from his hiding-place, and 
 brouo-ht our thoughts ^rom 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 
 on the little bridge which 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 could wish for his paradise ! It exhibits tnat exquisite 
 finish, which is the consequence of cultivation. When we 
 speak of an English home, we mean a home among the select 
 middle classes, not among noblemen or working-men, for 
 among the former, there is hollow-heartedness, and abject 
 devotion to mere conventionalities — a disgusting pride of blood, 
 wealth and connections. And were we to describe the homes 
 of the latter — the toiling laborers of England — we should 
 picture broken casements, expiring fires, haggard countenances, 
 and young children crying for bread. 
 
 ENGLISH HOMES. 
 
 But we choose now to describe — 
 
 " The merry homes of England ! — 
 Around their hearths by night, 
 What gladsome looks of household love 
 Meet in the ruddj^ liglit ! 
 There woman's voice flows forth in song, 
 Or childhood's tale is told. 
 Or lips move tuneful!}' along 
 Some glorious page of old." 
 
 In the English heart there is a deep love of quiet, calm 
 enjoyments, an^J home joys — this is the reason why the 
 English home is so lovable. Unhke 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 Loudon, have a rural tinge. When the Frenchman would 
 rush to the Boulevards, the more quiet and sedate Englis»li- 
 
COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 105 
 
 man gathers his children about him, and goes to spend the 
 day at Epping Forest, Gravesend, or Kerr Gardens. It would 
 be no pleasure 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. 
 
 Among the middle classes in England, or perhaps we should 
 say the upper-middle, there is no degree of want, but rather 
 a 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 English homes, 
 and never for once came away from one without an enthusi- 
 astic admiration of the sweet garden in which it pleasairtly 
 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 children 
 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 
 
 sunshine 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 exterior 
 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 
 evening joys never are forgotten, but in the time of tempta- 
 tion, gather about the heart of youth, like a group of angels, 
 guarding 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 
 like 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 
 stores, 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 
 
 rine 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 festiva-1-day, she would bid farewell forever 
 to 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 theiy- 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 
 so or not I 
 
 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 the 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 wretches ; 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 with a friend 
 we left town to eat our Christmas dinner among the trees. 
 Christmas in the country I The very thought of it makes 
 the heart glow with pleasure. It conjures up such sights of 
 fairy children with laughing eyes and crimson cheeks, and 
 home-joys and pleasures ! 
 
 It made our hearts beat fast with pleasure to stand upon 
 the green grass and look into the pleasant sky, and hear the 
 few lingering birds sing — to run races with children, and re- 
 call the time when we were young and ran races with our 
 fellows in America I 
 
 And when at last we 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 
 ghosts, so that in the dim and shadowy corners of the draw- 
 ing-room the shadows from the fire seemed to be ghosts of 
 departed days — we said, — " Merry, merry Christmas'!" 
 
 And when 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 pleas- 
 
COSTUMES AND CUSTOMS. 109 
 
 ures rather than to go to Drury Lane or Coveut Garden — 
 when we looked into the happy, loving eyss of those around 
 us, and saw how calmly joyous were all in that room ; — and 
 when at last we were in our chamber tor sleep, and our head 
 lay on a soft pillow, we thought — last thought before going 
 to sleep ! — may we never forget the English Chrirstmas — nor 
 Palatine Cottage ! 
 
 But the next morning — what a change ! The day after 
 Christmas is 9, joyful day for menials, and a provoking one 
 for everybody else. It is a day for " Christmas boxes." On 
 that day every person who has during the previous year served 
 you in any capacity almost, will present himself, tip hisfhat, 
 and say — 
 
 " Christmas box, please, sir !" 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 !" There was no resisting his 
 demand, and our purse was made thinner by his call. \n. a 
 few moments the postman made his appearance, made a like 
 demand, with like success. An hour later and the coalman 
 wished 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 to be 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 of 
 England which is especially vexatious to a foreigner. Not 
 BO much bccauce of the expensiveness of the practice as of the 
 indefiniteness 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 to offend, generally gives altogether 
 ■ioo much. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ENGLISH POVERTY. 
 
 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 for the first time, he is astonished above measure. 
 When we first gazed at the destitution and horrible wretched- 
 ness of Spitalfields, our blood ran cold at the sight, and when- 
 ever we hear the great Enghsh metropolis eulogized as the 
 residence of princes in wealth, and nobility, Ave think of 
 Bome of the sights which our eyes have witnessed, among 
 those 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-street, 
 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 
 course, 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 only 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 Lon- 
 don laboring population, and we were forced by our observa- 
 tions, and the testimony of reliable men, to the conclusion, 
 that by far the majority — probably five sixths — of this class do 
 not possess the common comforts of life. In 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 .' 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 POVERTY. 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 
 thuik of it. So he is compelled to locate his wife and chil- 
 dren amid 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 ; the 
 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-pri(?ed. 
 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 
 fortunate 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 where 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 
 zannot lay up money without practising too severe self-denial. 
 
 But suppose our laboring man, instead of getting five dol- 
 lars a week, 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- 
 
 8 
 
114 WHAT I SAW IN. LONDON. 
 
 fields, when Starvation— a most potent pleader — pointed as 
 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, 
 not so terrible. And the father sees his children walking in 
 the 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. No 
 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 houses, 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 characters in this 
 region are accustomed to think their avocations without any 
 
ENGLISH POVERTY. 116 
 
 peculiar sin, we have little doubt. A kind of neeessitj'^, ia 
 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- 
 iields, went one evening to a Ragged-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 Testament. 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 clqses 
 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 boj's uncommonly late, until at last this boy's pa- 
 tience was exhausted, and he rose from his seat and walked 
 to the master, asking : 
 
 " Please, sir, what time is it ?" 
 
 " Half-past eight," was the reply. 
 
 " Please, sir, may I go out ?" he then asked. 
 
 " Why do you wish to go out ?" interrogated the master. 
 
 " Because ifs about time for church to break tip .'" 
 
 " 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 were saying the most natural thing 
 in the world, " Please, sir, that's the time for business .'" 
 
 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 tilings when the boys in the streets steal under the 
 impr lion that they are pursuing an honest vocation. The 
 mast himself related the story to us, and gave us many 
 
116 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 other facts which have come under his own observation, 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 principles, as 
 well as mere actions. Among these people there are many 
 men and women who were once educated and refined, and 
 moved 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. Languao-e 
 is too feeble to portray the mental sufferings 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, and yet 30 or 40 men, women, and 
 children were gathered in it, some huddling about the fire, 
 
ENGLISH POVERTY. 117 
 
 and others eating their supper. Our friend could not bear 
 the atmosphere of the room, and alter hastily making one or 
 two inquiries, was retreating, when one of the number ap 
 proached and said : 
 
 " We 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, poverty. He never drank, was not vicious — but he was 
 dying, and, great God ! in the metropolis of the civilized 
 world, dying of Imnger I He was worn 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 hira 
 so ; but he turned me off without a penny I" Thus it i 
 that Poverty in London steps in between blood-relations. Au 
 uncle will let a boy with a dead sister's blood coursing in his 
 veins, starve to death before he will try to help him — he 
 wo'uld ruin himself were he to help all his poor relations, in 
 such a country as England. A friend of ours because of his 
 kindness of heart employed a young man as writing-clerk, 
 
118 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 ■who had a young wife and children to support He found 
 that he had an only brother who is the Captairi 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 a sovereign and wall^ed away I But to return to 
 our first story. Our friend spoke to the young man of hia 
 mother, and he burst into tears. She was dead — and a 
 smile spread over his face while he said it — a smile of joy. 
 Oh ! hoiv glad he was, that she 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 with 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. The physician said 
 that starvation was the cause. 
 
 We do not wish the reader to suppose that London is the 
 wretchedest, wickedest city in the Avorld — 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 vjhole 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 woe, vice, and wretchedness. 
 
 Much has been written and spoken about the miserable 
 habits of beer-drinking, which almost eveiy 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 working-men 
 temperance men, until they possess civil rights. It would be 
 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 — 
 but in America it has been just the reverse, for the universal 
 change 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 [ osition of a 
 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. Give 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 liis intellect. If to-morrow the right of voting were 
 accorded to every honest man in England, the work 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 milHons of working-men 
 m England would with pride become possessors of happy, 
 sober homes. 
 
 DUCK LANE. 
 
 With a city missionary — a pious and courageous man — we 
 one day visited Duck Lane. As we approached it, we no- 
 ticed that the buildings were small, low, and filthy, with 
 their few windows stufled with rags, pasteboard, or broken 
 panes of glass. The doors were generally swinging wide 
 open, revealing any quantity of half-nude children with 
 Bqualid faces. The only business-places were 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. In 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 
 the street had an air of suspicious silence. The gas-lights 
 were dimly burning, and occasionally a couple of policemen, 
 a.rm-in-arm, were walking down the street. Here we saw a 
 window open, revealing the form of a well-rouged girl, sitting 
 by it as a decoy, to tempt some foolish man to enter her haunt 
 of 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 little 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 us. 
 
ENGLISH POVERTY. 121 
 
 Her face was frank and honest, indeed we were surprised to 
 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 hke the compli- 
 ment vei-y 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- 
 Bite and asked : 
 
 " Are any of the people of those rooms in ?" She replied 
 Hhat they were all out. 
 
 " And on business, V 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 glowing up as he has done. He 
 is too old, he says, to live now by any honest avocation — he 
 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 !" 
 
 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 
 J there was the sign " Hotel. "^ We paused at the threshold 
 a moment, to hear the talk and uproar within. Then taking 
 
 F 
 
122 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 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 
 recognizing the missionary, they relapsed into their former 
 positions, and paid little attention to us. For the missionary 
 is at liberty to go where he pleases in this dangerous region. 
 He has helped the vile and wretched so many times when 
 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 Avith 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 
 missionary 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 nothing of God or Jesus Christ, nor ever heard of 
 them save in oaths I 
 
 We were now abreast the Abbey — glorious Westminster 
 Abbey — and splendid carriages rolled by, with wealth and 
 nobility. Perhaps it was the breaking up of some missionary 
 meeting, where thousands had been voted to spread the Bible 
 in Afghanistan or Turkey ; while from the windows 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 our visits to the various Ragged Schools of th^ 
 metropolis, we became much interested in a lad ten or eleven 
 years old, who had a frank, open countenance. He wa 
 
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 of 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 how he lived. 
 
 " Almost SLuyhotv, too," was his reply. 
 
 " But what is your business ?" we asked. 
 
 " I am a water-cress boy," was his reply, " and get up 
 ever}' 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 fo?- others ! 
 
124 WHAT I SA'.7 rN LONDON. 
 
 THE POOR TINKER. 
 
 When the Ragged School system was first introduced m 
 London, it was dangerous to go to the schools, as there were 
 villains ready to injure both teachers and visitors. The place 
 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 at 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 !" 
 
 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 we 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 down his haggard cheeks and rolled off upon 
 the earth below — for there was no floor. The sight was one 
 
ENGLISH POVERTY. 125 
 
 we never had seen before, and we stood, half doubting our 
 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 hoiv — 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 liis eyes. 
 We heard a low moan in a farther corner of the apartment, 
 and when we looked into it, sa;w 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 ivife .'" 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 ! 
 
 " you 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 hi7n V 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. 
 
]26 WHAT I SAW IN 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 
 fear 'tis too old to mend." • 
 
 It was an appeal to our purse which could nat 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 Spitaliields, 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 our 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 
 and Wales alone there are three millions of paupers I 
 
 St. Giles in London is one of the proinineiat quarters where 
 poverty and the lowest 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 cora-^ 
 mittee to examine the sanitary condition of Church Lane ir 
 St. Giles. A frieiid of ours was one of that committee, an^ 
 
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 l<jw, small, and wretched ; 
 the rooms mere jDens, 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 invai'iably the last resort of the wretched and vicious. 
 
128 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 When all other portions of London have cast them out, 
 St. Giles opens its doors to them, well 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 — so 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 asgardener in the country, 
 with moderate wages — wall you go, and promise me you will 
 do your best ?" 
 
 " But they will first or last discover 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 them, indeed 
 the world shrinks with disgust from them, and their course is 
 steadily downward. 
 
 F* 9 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PERSONS OF NOTE. 
 SIR CHARLES NAPIER. 
 
 Among the naval and military characters of Great Britain, 
 Sir Charles Napier holds a distinguished position. He is 
 Rear 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 heen 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. ]31 
 
 to assert that there is blood 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 
 lord than for a cobbler. 
 
 Sometime in 1849, while Sir Charles was in India, a 
 famous letter appeared in the colums of the Times, attacting 
 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 pilib- 
 lic knew, generally, and they anticipated rare sport when the 
 Duke's strictures should reach JMapier 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 
 
182 WHAT I SAW Iisr LONDON. 
 
 controversy At last Sir Charles became aware that he was 
 waging a dispute with an eminent man — a Duke — but his 
 only 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 Duke 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 many faults, 
 and though he is constantly firing his guns at the Premier or 
 Cabinet, the Board of Admiralty or the Secretary of the Navy, 
 yet he is universally popular. His hearty boldness is liked 
 and pardoned by those who would not pardon the same spirit 
 if exhibited by a mere civilian. 
 
 In his personal appearance, Sir Charles Napier is very 
 striking. In height he is rather above the ordinary stature 
 of men, his figure is none of the finest, and yet is command- 
 ing. His forehead is expansive but retreating, and his face 
 very strongly marked by furrows. He has a shaggy pair of 
 gray-black whiskers, and has a couple of fierce and large eye- 
 brows, and from behind these his piercing eyes shine out with 
 a half-ferocious intelligence. His nose is rather long, and 
 slightly Homan — altogether he is one of the most striking 
 men we ever met. An utter stranger, if used to reading 
 faces, would at once pronounce hirai a remarkable man. His 
 crotchets all show themselves in his face. There is the fii-e 
 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 his talents and position in society, it is not dif- 
 
PERSONS OF NOTE. 183 
 
 ficult to pick a quarrel, and he is constantly disputing with, 
 or attacking somebody. There are matiy such characters in 
 this world, and many of them, with all their destructiveness, 
 are not bad 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 thei-e is much in his character to admire, as 
 well 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 chan- 
 nel. It was 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 paeans in his praise ; the sky grew 
 dark with the dust raised by the feet of millions gathered to 
 
134 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 da him honor ; — he was "the saviour of his country," "the 
 hero of a hundred fights," the nation's God, for the hour at 
 Jeast. So many iron statues were cast of him, that to this 
 day he goes by 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 Reform Bill became greater, profound- 
 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 horrer, 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 he 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 
 nod of the head. His body, once tall and firm, is slightly 
 bent, and there is a tremulousness in his motions which be- 
 trays his years. We were astonished to see a man eighty 
 years old 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 off 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 they cannot well deny him honor as a war- 
 rior, however much they may detest his statesmanship. 
 
 The House of Commons has a celebrated character in 
 Colonel Sibthorpe — celebrated not for intellect, or for 
 genuis, but lor 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 IN LONDOK. 
 
 is often a rough wit in what he says, but if another memher 
 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 wine-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 of 
 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 ! 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 Washington as he does in the English House of Com- 
 mons. But a scion of the English aristocracy can act the 
 fool to perfection, and no one dares to murmur. Fine ladies 
 smile as beautifully upon him as if he were really a gentle- 
 man, while 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 KOTE. 137 
 
 told by excellent authority that upon the death of a favorite 
 mistress an English bishop condoled with him upon his loss. 
 Such a fact needs no comment. 
 
 A somewhat singular character in England is Mr. Feargus 
 O'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 haye 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 six objects instead of 
 one, and as a result have obtained notliing, 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 has long 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 him- 
 self thoroughly before the nation, and no confidence is felt in 
 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 the 
 most infl.ated manner, but was promptly put down. 
 
138 WHAT 1 SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 MACAULAY. 
 
 Mr. Macaulay's fame is not confined to England, nor are 
 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 he 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 who were in Parlia- 
 ment at the time will ever forget his memorable debate with 
 Croker, 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 
 frame a penal code for luflia, he incurred the greatest odium 
 by insisting that the nativt**- 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, -who wished the 
 laws to discriminate in their favor. 
 
 It is far better that Maoauiay 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 sa3S 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 po])ular with the middle-classes, and one great 
 reason for this lies in the fact that while he is classical, he is 
 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 poor 
 
140 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 scholar. If you are tolerably rich, and live in the country, 
 you can pay high and take thirty or forty books at a time I 
 
 The personal appearance of Mr. Macauiay is prepossessing. 
 He is large and full — has an oval face, which is not pale and 
 scholar-like, but rich and ruddy. His eyes are dark and 
 beautiful, his hair fine and curly, his 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. 
 
 BROWNING. 
 
 Robert 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 rich, 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 
 writes 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- 
 son," 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 
 country-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 Hall, in the 
 county of Norfolk, and at an early age entered the House of 
 Commons, where he distinguished himself. He became an 
 able political writer, but did not allow politics to absorb all 
 his attention. 
 
 It is said that to the influence of his mother is he indebted 
 for his early and strong love of literature. His father died 
 while he was young, and his education was completely the 
 work of his mother, who used to give him, while very young, 
 old ballads to read. He entered Cambridge University at an 
 early age, and as soon as he was through it, made a journey 
 
142 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 of England and Scotland on foot, and afterwards wandered 
 over France on horseback. It is somewhat singular that all 
 the earlier works of Bulwer are now forgotten. At twenty- 
 one or twenty-two, he commenced authorship in verse. His 
 first novel, entitled " Falkland," is now quite forgotten. 
 
 The work which first brought him prominently before the 
 public was " Pelham," which was very successful. He is 
 one of the most popular novelists of the age, but we can 
 never get to believe that the effect of his earlier works is 
 good. All his novels, save those which have been written 
 quite lately, are altogether too feverish and passionate. Vice 
 in them wears too pleasant a garb. No one can doubt his 
 great power, and beauty of diction, but his powers have not 
 always been used for the benefit of mankind. But his last 
 novels have been of quite a different character, being delight- 
 ful home-pictures, natural and without feverish and unhealthy 
 passion. 
 
 As a man, Bulwer is, and always has been, popular. Born 
 to wealth and rank, he has worked hard as an author, and 
 has been a true friend of authors. You can often see Dick- 
 ens, and Jerrold, and Lemon and others, at Knebworth Park. 
 He has written biographies of several of his literary friends 
 who are now deceased, and among others one of poor Laman 
 Blanchard, to whom he was a real friend, for in his dark days 
 he not only comforted him with cheap words of encourage- 
 ment, but with substantial British gold. 
 
 He has many of the prejudices of his order ; is somewhat 
 proud, at fault in his politics ; and does not dare at all times 
 to speak the truth. He loves popularity too well to be very 
 far in advance of the times. 
 
 He is sometimes lavighed at for his excessive nicety in his 
 dress, and when he was in the House of Commons, his politi- 
 cal enemies named him " the fop." He is perhaps too fond 
 of fine clothes, but that may be accounted for on the score of 
 
PERSONS OF NOTE. 143 
 
 his ideality. In fashionable society he is liked the better foi 
 this failing, for he has exquisite taste. He is a fine-looking 
 man, and is a favorite with the sex. His forehead is sloping, 
 but broad, and polished like marble. His figure has some- 
 thing aristocratic in it, and as he is a genius as well as a bar- 
 onet, no one can dispute his right to a lordly mien. It is 
 when we see wealth, or rank and pride allied to that which 
 is the opposite of genius or talent, that we are seized with a 
 feeling of disgust. 
 
 He deserves praise for having the courage and energy requi- 
 site in a man born to wealth and rank, to labor as he has 
 done for his present fame. There were many temptations to 
 indolence and a life of pleasure, which poor scholars never en- 
 counter, and yet he has studied diligently, and worked la- 
 boriously, for which he should have his meed of praise. 
 
 We cannot refrain from saying a few words on William 
 Macready, who has taken leave of the stage forever. It was 
 our good fortune to see him once on the boards of a London 
 theatre, with Mrs. Fanny Kemble, in King Lear, and ever 
 since that night we have felt a vivid interest in his personal 
 fortunes. His public life has been a feverish one — he haa 
 seemed always to be unfortunate — and yet fortunate in se- 
 curing great fame. For many years he struggled with 
 Kean, until, as an eminent critic said, " Edmund Kean, with 
 hands still grappling the shape-thronged air, reeled away 
 half-unconsciously into the darkness." 
 
 Then he quarrelled with his manager, who would not listen 
 to him in matters of taste, and at last he became a manager 
 himself Yet, though acknowledged to be at the head of his 
 art, the greatest tragic actor in the world, he lost money, and was 
 obliged to go to America to save his health, and recruit his 
 purse. There he was mobbed. He returned to England, was 
 enthusiastically received, and took his leave forever of the stage. 
 
144 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 While he was manager of the theatre, he completely di-' 
 vorced Art from licentiousness, and made the theatre a moral 
 place — but it never paid as such. 
 
 He leaves the stage in comfortable health and good pecu- 
 niary circumstances. His farewell performance at Drury 
 Lane theatre was a scene ever to be remembered by those 
 who were present, and the dinner given in his honor shortly 
 after, was graced by the presence of rank, genius, and power. 
 
 WILLIAM AND MARY HOWITT. 
 
 William Howitt is a man of about fifty years of age, and 
 is possessed of a somewhat striking physical appearance. He 
 is about the average height, has a tolerably full habit, mild 
 blue eyes (mild save when his ire is aroused), and is bald 
 upon the top of his head and forehead. What hair he has is 
 white as snow, and gives to him an almost singular appear- 
 ance. In his manners he is a gentleman, not so much from 
 a regard for conventionalism, as from the promptings of a 
 kind nature. In conversation he is one of the most interest- 
 ing men it was ever our chance to meet in life. He has an 
 incdiaustible fund of anecdote and humor, and is especially 
 it home while talking of the country and country things. 
 He is impulsive, and speaks abruptly sometimes, but one 
 could hear him relate his stories and adventures for hours, 
 without tiring. He imparts to all he says a peculiar poetic 
 chaim ; if you are out of a summer evening on the lawn, 
 with the moonlight making shadows all around you, he will 
 tell some strange and thrilling stories of ghosts and ghost-life 
 that will chill you through. 
 
 M.YT •• HowiTT is a few years younger than her husband, 
 has a iiatronly look, and would never be taken for an au- 
 thore?^. You would call her the model of a wife or mother, 
 
 kind and gentle is she in all her actions. Physically speak* 
 
PERSONS OF NOTE. 145 
 
 mg, she is strong, large-made, and full of vigor. She has 
 more life in her than in half a dozen young women of fashion. 
 Yet she is exceedingly graceful, and if not strictly beautiful, 
 alter an artist's heart, she is more than beautiful. Her face 
 is always iu a smiling repose, and her eyes have a mingled 
 expression of love and intellect, which constitutes them, to 
 our thinking, very beautiful. Personally, aside from her 
 qualities as an authoress, she is very popular. We doubt if 
 any one ever knew her without loving her character. There 
 is an inexpressible charm in her ways and manners, just as 
 there is in her books. Although her features are irregular, 
 and not strictly handsome, we have seen her among a room 
 full of ladies, when some of those present were acknowledged 
 by all to be exceedingly beautiful, yet Mary Howitt was — 
 and you could not help but feel it — queen among them all. 
 She has, while standing, an air of lofty, commanding sweet- 
 ness, which pleases and enchains the stranger. But j'ou 
 would not take her for an authoress. You would call her a 
 proper character*to figure in fiction rather than a creator of 
 such characters. 
 
 When we first became acquainted with the Howitts, they 
 were living at " The Elms," in Clapton, a suburb of London. 
 They were then suffering from the wrong-dealing of John 
 Saunders, of the People's Jourfial, who had ruined them pe- 
 cuniarily. We shall always feel glad that we knew them 
 then, for one can never know thoroughly what a noble spirit 
 is, unless he sees it in adversity. Mary Howitt was then as 
 gentle, loving, and hopeful as ever, and the whole family 
 seemed to love each other better, and to struggle manfully 
 against all difficulties with brave coui-age. SaLd a friend of 
 ours who was entrusted with some of the unfortunate busi- 
 ness connected with the disasters which beset them, and who 
 had much to do with the family as a confidential friend : 
 
 " She is more beautiful in adversity than in prosperity," — 
 
146 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 and he was right. With true courage both- William and 
 Mary Howitt struggled onward, and are again prosperous. 
 They now live in the western part of London, not far from 
 the western extremity of Regent's Park, and have a quiet and 
 beautiful home. 
 
 They have four children. The eldest, Anna Mary Howitt, 
 is a young lady who has already distinguished herself as an 
 artist, and who promises well for the future. 
 
 The second, Alfred Howitt, is a young man of twenty, of 
 promising talents, and who, we believe, looks forward to a 
 barrister's life. The remaining two, " Charlton and Maggy," 
 are young, and in the midst of their school-days. 
 
 Although Mrs. Howitt is a voluminous author, yet there is 
 not a more careful wife, or mother, or housekeeper in London. 
 The mother never sinks into the author, and she has not the 
 slightest tinge of the blue-stocking in her manners. One 
 might converse with her for days, if he were no author or 
 admirer of literature, and never perceive that he was talking 
 "with a woman whose whole life has been one of authorship. 
 She has a happy faculty of adapting herself to circumstances, 
 and makes herself agreeable to all. 
 
 Marriages between literary persons are not usually happy 
 ones, but in the present instance the general rule is at fault, 
 for never was there a happier couple than William and Mary 
 Howitt. Their names are always spoken together ; they 
 have been associated so intimately in authorship that it sounds 
 unnatural to mention one name without the other. The 
 names are intermarried, and should never be " put asunder." 
 
 William Howitt was born in Derbyshire, and his ancestors' 
 for many generations were respectable landed proprietors. 
 They were proverbially fond of the country, and country 
 pleasures. One of them, in the time of dueen Elizabeth, 
 married into the Middleton family, and became exceedingly 
 nch, but the love of ease and good cheer in the descendants 
 
PERSONS OF NOTE. 147 
 
 was their bane, and their broad lands slipped away, piece bj 
 piece, until the original estates were scattered to the winds. 
 William Howitt's father. Mr. Thomas Howitt, being a man 
 of energy, retrieved the fortunes of the family, and secured for 
 himself a fine property. He married a Miss Tantum, who 
 was a member of the Society of Friends, and, according to the 
 rules of the Society, became a member. 
 
 William Howitt is one of six brothers, and was educated at 
 various sc-hools of the Friends, but never received what is 
 styled a liberal education. During his boyhood he was ex- 
 tremely fond of country sports, was a great birds-nester, and 
 this love of country has never died within his heart. He 
 became a chemist, and at the age of twenty-eight, married 
 Miss Mary Botham of Uttoxeter. in StafTordshii-e, who was 
 also a member of the Society of Friends. She is the present 
 world-known Mary Howitt. 
 
 Mrs. Howitt's ancestors were not unknown to the M'orld ; 
 her great-grandfather, William Wood, was the Irish patentee 
 who minted half-pence for the Government of George II. 
 under a contract, which Dean Swift in his " Drapier's Letters" 
 made so much noise about that they were not accepted, 
 though Sir Isaac Newton pronounced them better than the 
 contract required, and he lost over £60,000. The grand- 
 father of Mrs. Howitt was assay-master in Jamaica, and was 
 the first person who brought platinum into Europe. 
 
 Previous to their marriage, neither William nor Mary Howitt 
 had made themselves known as authors or writers, but shortly 
 after, they published jointly a volume of poetry under the 
 title of " The Forest Minstrel," which was received with 
 universal commendation. 
 
 Not long after their marriage, they made a journey into 
 Scotland ; landed at Dumbarton, and travelled over its lofty 
 hills, and among its beautiful lakes. They journeyed a 
 thousand miles, and over five hundred of it on foot. What 
 
148 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 do the American women think of this feat ? A foot-journey 
 of five hundred miles for a young bride's honeymoon tour I 
 They looked from the lofty Ben Lomond, saw Loch Katrine, 
 and when they visited Gretna Green, the inhabitants all 
 turned out, thinking that they were a young couple come to 
 be married I 
 
 Upon their return to Nottingham, they published another 
 joint volume of poetry, which added much to their reputation, 
 Mr. Howitt began to write for the Magazines ; Mrs. Howitt 
 continued her ballad-writing, in which she surpasses almost 
 every other living writer. 
 
 Although they were by this time well known, yet Mr 
 Howitt had not published any work in prose, but in 1832 he 
 wrote his popular " Book of the Seasons." He could not sell 
 the manuscript for a long time. Four of the most noted 
 publishing houses in the kingdom rejected it, and the author 
 was nearly sick of authorship. At last Mr. Bently took it, 
 and since then a dozen large editions have been sold, and it 
 sells as well to-day as it did twenty years ago. At once it 
 received a universal welcome, and the author became still 
 more famous than before. Two years after he published his 
 " History of Priestcraft," which has also become a standard 
 work. Li it he is entirely unlike himself in his books on 
 nature. In the one he is all love and kindness — in the other 
 full of sarcasm and passionate eloquence. Such is his real 
 character — a compound of gentleness and love, passion and 
 power. 
 
 All this time, Mr. Howitt was a citizen of Nottingham, but 
 becoming fa.vorably known to his fellow-townsmen as a 
 liberalist, he was elected Alderman of the borough. Had he 
 possessed a large fortune, he might have secured fame as a 
 politician, but, as he was only moderately wealthy, he re- 
 moved to Esher, where he could devote himself to literature. 
 While there, he and his wife published several works, and 
 
PERSONS OF NOTE. 149 
 
 made a journey into the north of England, and spent some 
 time with Wordsworth at the lakes. The " Visits to Re- 
 markable Places," " Boy's Country Book," &c., &-c., appeared 
 about this time. 
 
 After remaining at Esher three years, they went into 
 Germany, and settled down at Heidelberg, and visited all 
 parts of Germany. They were there three years, and Mr. 
 Howitt wrote his " Student Life of Germany," and " Rural 
 Life of Germany ;" the last was reprinted in Germany, and 
 highly commended by the ablest of German critics. 
 
 Here they became acquainted with an English family 
 which had resided in Sweden, and was enthusiastically in 
 love with Swedish literature. Mary Howitt began its study, 
 and soon was entranced with the fiction of Frederika Bremer. 
 
 When they returned to England, she began her translations 
 of Miss Bi'emer's Tales of Domestic Life in Sweden, which 
 created a great sensation throughout England and America, 
 and for awhile such was the demand for them, that both 
 William and Mary Howitt were constantly engaged in trans- 
 lating, though all of them were issued in her name. 
 
 The establishment of the "People's and Hewitt's Journal," 
 was a most unfortunate circumstance, as through connecting 
 themselves with an unprincipled man, they were pecuniarily 
 ruined. But ill-fortune did not crush them, and since then 
 they have published some of their most delightful books. 
 
 A few years since a book was published in London under the 
 title of " The Aristocracy of England, by John Hampden, Jr.,'' 
 which created considerable sensation. It is one of the most 
 thorough and caustic attacks upon the British aristocracy 
 which we ever read. It had a large sale, and sells now 
 almost, or quite as well as it sold at first, for it is a hand-book 
 for all those who are dissatisfied with the oppression of the 
 nobility of England. The " John Hampden, Jr." is a false 
 name which really means " William Howitt," for he is the 
 
150 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 author of the book. He is also the author of many other 
 creditable works. 
 
 Although educated as Friends, Mr. and Mrs. Howitt long 
 ago gave up their distinctiveness of dress, and are never known 
 or spoken of as Friends. The love of religious liberty, the 
 cordial hatred of priestcraft which distinguishes that Society, 
 they share to this day with them, and there is a simplicity in 
 their lives which is in harmony with the religious principles 
 of that noble sect, but they are not distinctively members of 
 the Society. 
 
 They have for years been peculiarly hospitable to Americans, 
 and one almost always finds one there on their evenings of 
 reception. 
 
 The qualities of each as authors are plainly perceptible in 
 a conversation. In Mary Howitt, you feel all that charming 
 gentleness and loveful beauty which shines forth in her 
 books. In William Howitt you see his strong love for the 
 country, and old haunts and castles, in the tales about them 
 with which he will regale your appetites, if you have any for 
 the wild and marvellous. He is fonder of German stories 
 and wild legends ; Mary Howitt of pleasant tales of sunlight 
 love, and of flowers and smiling fields — and both are poets. 
 
 We will allude here, for a moment, to a somewhat singu- 
 lar literary character in London — G. W. M. Reynolds. He 
 has no claims among the really great or good, for he is not 
 only a second-rate writer and author, but he lacks morality 
 in his writings. Charles Dickens says of him, " his writings 
 are a national reproach," and he never uttered a truer saying. 
 He has a worse morality than Paul de Kock, and lacks his 
 genius. Yet his books have a tremendous circulation over 
 England, and indeed in this country. He writes only for 
 money, and cares not how many hearts he fills with pollution 
 BO long as he gains gold. He is, however, shut out of all good 
 
PERSONS OP NOTE. 151 
 
 society in England, because of l)is wretched principles. Sin, 
 in his pages, is painted in the most attractive colors ; it is true 
 .' at 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 
 seduces the young by glowing pictures of sensuality and crime. 
 He professes to draw his stories from actual London life, but 
 if such M^ere the case, it is no apology for him. The truth is 
 not to be portrayed to all minds in the style of his writings. 
 
 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 
 
152 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 — others his natural utterance. His life has heen a singular 
 one, and men write from their lives. A happy expecieuee 
 may color his style with rainbow hues, while darkness and 
 suffering 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, where he remained for years. He became 
 thoroughly acquainted with the German language, and with 
 many 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 Schiller, and 
 afterward, a German Romance. 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 
 
PERSONS OF NOTE. . 153 
 
 Goethe translated it into the German, and bestowed the high- 
 est comphments 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 sucli 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 liis whole person bears the im- 
 press of solemn earnestness. And then the matte?- richly 
 compensates for the lack of manner. 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 complauit 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 
 God. 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 from that which 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 is 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 know how to bandy com- 
 pliments. But to those whom he loves he is kind and affec- 
 tionate. 
 
 People will have their own opinions of Thomas Carlyle as 
 An author and a man — ours are that tie has extraordinary 
 genius, but that there is a certain amount of " sheer fudge" 
 mixed with it. His notions respecting human government 
 show how senseless 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 
 in France. If he be exceedingly distinguished, the aristocracy 
 and nobility are ready to do him honor in a pat7-omzing 
 manner. In France, the literary man takes the first rank in 
 society — wealth and blood retreat before the advent of genius. 
 No man in social position stands higher in France than La- 
 martine. Dickens in England is as much 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. 165 
 
 "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 
 gazed 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. la 
 conversation, he was always full 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 natui'e. There was no half-way feel- 
 ing about the man — if his indignation was excited at all, it 
 was in an almost terrific manner. His pathos was entirely 
 free from namby-pambyism — 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, while 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-hearted 
 
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 bovvers, 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 in 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 was tall and sinewy in frame ; when 
 ho was still, his eyes were of a cold blue, but when hevwas 
 
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 
 actor 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 extoUers of the nobility with tremendous power. 
 His words were thick and abrupt ; terse, and bitter, and ve- 
 hemeilt, and yet you felt that all he said was not against the 
 utterer of the sentiment, but the sentiment 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 Hotherham, 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 distinguisjied 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 cfi^orts, 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 countiiig-n.om 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. • 
 
158 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 One of his youthful friends was Joseph Ramshotham, the 
 son of the old schoolmaster 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 
 class. Young Elliott used to hear him recite Greek poetry, 
 and was entranced with the music of the verse, 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 sufiered the acutest 
 misery, and it is said that previous to his death he commenced 
 an autobiography, but when he got as far as this part of his 
 life he could not bear to dwell upon it, and threw the manu- 
 script into the fire, with his eyes flooded with tears. 
 
 He came to Sheffield six or eight hundred dollars in debt, 
 and commenced the iron business. Year fullowed year, and 
 yet he was unsuccessful, until, at last, 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 immens ly wealthy man. 
 As it Avas 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 his 
 ledgers, or poetry, letters of business, or prose for the press. 
 
 The literary history of the poet is full of interest, but we 
 
PERSONS OF NOTE. 159 
 
 can only allude to it. From the day on which the young 
 Ramsbotham recited Greek poetry to him, he was 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 7ioble 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 pour'forth touching 
 and beautiful songs, M'ith 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 such as to add fire to Elliott's heart. In 
 the great Corn-Law struggle 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 teas a 
 poet. So he won a fame and a fortune together ! He 
 " weighed out iron and ideas — took in gold and glory I" 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 
 Jast illness he composed several beautiful poems. His descend- 
 ants are five sons and two daughters. Three of the former 
 oarry on the old business at Sheffield, while the other two are 
 Church-of-England clergymen. 
 
CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 REMARKABLE 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 
 jBsh-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." 
 
 The 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 tui'ned 
 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 aa 
 
REMARKABLE PLACKS, 161 
 
 the rest. We walked down this into Grace Church street, 
 then turned to the left down a street near the river Thames, 
 which bi-ought us to the great Fire Monument. Then we 
 began to see the crowds of fishermen with their baskets and 
 carts. At last we were in Billingsgate-market ; and we 
 ncA^er 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 wholesale dealers at their 
 stalls, and all the alle3fs 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 ofi" the supply 
 already in the stalls. Old women were scattered about with 
 ancient copies of " The Times J' 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 ! 
 
 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 
 difl^erent fishing-grounds of the kingdom. Some of the night- 
 
 11 
 
162 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 railway trains bring loads of fish from Margate, Hastings, 
 &c. &c. Great quantities of shrimps 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 is thought to be quite 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 
 difierent 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 
 suddenlj^ from the death-like streets into such a scene of noise 
 and confusion and brilliant gas-light, had something 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 ! Looking 
 eastward, we saw a dense forest of shipping from the four 
 quarters of the globe ; there rose the vast Custom House with 
 its Avails tinted over with London smoke ; still further down 
 the stream rose the turrets of the Tower 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 M'as 
 black as night with smoke. It was a splendid sight ; and 
 then we thought how it must look on. a summer's morning, 
 whfen 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 our 
 lips : — 
 
 " Earth has not anything to show more fair ; 
 Dull 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. 
 Never did sun more beautifully steep 
 In his first splendor valley, rock or hill ; 
 Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep 1 
 The liver glideth at its own sweet will ; 
 Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep, 
 And all that mighty heart is lying still !" 
 
 THAMES TUNNEL. 
 
 With a friend, one day the last summer, we 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 such gaudy shops, wanting in taste. We soon came in 
 
164 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 sight of the Power, with its turrets gilded by the morning's 
 sun, and passed down towards Wapping, one of the dirtiest 
 places in London. It is full of low houses, ignorant people, 
 obnoxious scents. The inhabitants are many of them coal- 
 lieavers, and are wretchedly poor. But soon we saw a hum- 
 ble 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 Rotherhithe side of the river. Li 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. We 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 — 
 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. 166 
 
 all kinds of gewgaws, and fine baubles, for sale. There was 
 note-paper, witl> pictures of the Tunnel upon it, all manner 
 of views, and trinkets, and edibles, which were pressed upon 
 us with that zeal which European shopmen know so well how 
 to exercise. 
 
 In the centre there was a " Steam Cosmorama," turning 
 out views "beautiful and unique," for " only one penny!" 
 It was patronized too, once, by Her Majesty the Glueen, which 
 of course wreathed the brow of the proprietor in unfading 
 laurels I Once upon a time, the Glueen, attended only by 
 one or two ladies, came here in great haste, and as soon as 
 she had entered, no one was allowed to pass in until she had 
 come out. The keepers of the stalls, the old and young 
 women, 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 Glueen 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 su?ik 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 passed along to the Rotherhithe entrance, where a 
 woman wished to take our hkenesses 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. Isaraburt 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 formed to construct the 
 Tunnel, and in March, 1825, the workmen commenced 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 was to be about 38 feet broad and 22 high, 
 bnt 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 
 
REMARKABLE PLACES. lO*? 
 
 down, while others were choking with water. One of the 
 assistant engineers says : 
 
 " The wave rolled onward and onward. The men re- 
 treated and I followed. Then I nnet Isaniburt Brunei. We 
 turned round : the effect was splendid 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 had just left, was swept away The 
 
 roll was immediately called — not one absent I'^ 
 
 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, while a son of Mr. Brunei was overseeing the work- 
 men, he heard a cry of " The water I The water !" and 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 Avag 
 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 
 out to swim to the entrance, when a mighty wave came 
 sweeping along, which swept him on, and on, and finally ujJ 
 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 years his favorite 
 work was untouched. Yet it is said that every day of that 
 seven long years, he came and viewed with a melancholy 
 brow the half- wrought Tunnel, and would not give up his 
 hopes. See what " Nil desperandimi'' accomplishes I In 
 ] 835, 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 difi'erent irruptions 
 took place, but the work went steadily onward until on the 
 morning of the 13th 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 Avhole 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 difhculties, 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 
 in the centre of thfi 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 fii'st 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 gush in upon us, what would become of us ?" 
 
 The bare idea of such a thing was enough to strike one 
 with horror. 
 
KEMARKABLE 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 btranger, unused, whose heart throbs quickly at the 
 eighi. 
 
 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 morii- 
 
110 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 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 Sherifis, and a few Alder- 
 men. They wex'e 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. The 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 s'ight of a couple of lawyers in full costume, 
 and at their prolession 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 Q^uaker forger, took 
 his trial there, and was hung in front of the prison. Eliza 
 Penning had her trial therein 1815, and circumstances have 
 since transpired which 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 additiouaj 
 weight to produce death. 
 
 The poet Savage had his trial there in 1727, and Jonathan 
 
REMARKABLE PLACES. 171 
 
 Wild in 1725. Jack Shejipard 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, something exceedingly painful in the sight 
 of a prisoner taking his trial. The suspense of an innocent 
 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 another 
 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 coHfined, 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. 
 
1*72 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 We saw in one cell a daring 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- 
 trived to run up forty feet of the bare wall, and climb over a 
 fence 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 
 where persons are kept after a sentence of de'ath 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 
 solemn 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." 
 
REMARKABLE PLACES. 173 
 
 If they could see the tears of repentance upon the pale cheeks 
 of the condemned — 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 Sheriffs, 
 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 strangers could gain an entrance to 
 look at him during the sermon, by paying the turnkey a few 
 shillings, but such barbarities are not now allowed. 
 
 We now passed into the fema'a department of the prison — 
 the first room we entered contained two quite handsome 
 young women, and as a rule there was a great difference 
 between the appearance of the raale and female prisoners. 
 The latter were ashamed, and cc?^ld not conceal it. One 
 face was really a beautiful one, and crimsoned with blushes, 
 but some of them seemed wholly lopf to goodness, and such 
 were indescribably more horrible than any of the men's faces. 
 Why is it that an utterly depraved woman looks so much 
 worse than a depraved man ? It certainly is so, and perhaps 
 the reason is, that we all expect to see virtue and beauty in 
 women, but we are not so confident of men and when we 
 are disappointed, the look of Vice upon tht woman's face 
 looks more hideous than on a man's. 
 
 In one ward we saw a woman with as sweet a l'»vHing 
 
1Y4 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 babe as ever we saw out of it. It was a touching sight — 
 Bueh 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 Avicked 
 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 wondex-ed 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 was 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 daring courage of Jack is unquestion- 
 able, and some of his adventures were most wonderful. 
 
 In a book entitled " Annals of Newgate," by Rev. 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 
 \ porch to listen to the voice of a preacher, when he heard 
 h following words : 
 
 Now my beloved, what a melancholy consideration it is, 
 
REMARKABLE PLACES. l76 
 
 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 so unaccountably negli- 
 gent of a precious soul which must continue to the ages of 
 eternity I We have a remarkable instance of this in a notori- 
 ous malefactor, well-known by the name of Jack Sheppard. 
 What amazing difRculties 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 ^ot 
 upon the leads of the prison ; and then -fixing a blanket to 
 the wall, with a spike, he stole out of the chapel ; how 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 I O that ye all were like Jack Sheppard I 
 Mistake rne 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 wdth 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 vip 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 level of the court, but also far beloio. 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 a 
 good view of them can be obtained from the river while oir 
 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. 177 
 
 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 wall. 
 
 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 w^as 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 Covent 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 was shortly after again confined, 
 and finally beheaded. His own nephew, Edward VI., in his 
 diary, thus coldly notices the death of his uncle : — 
 n* 12 
 
1*78 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 " Jan. 22. — The Duke of Somerset had his head cut ofi' 
 between eight and nine this morning, upon Tower Hill." 
 
 Thus perished the founder of Somerset House. Many of 
 the people 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 ! pardon ! God 
 save the King I" 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 Royal Academy. The Society of 
 Antiquaries and Royal Astronomical and Geological Societies 
 also now have apartments in it. 
 
 The Admiraky has large ofRces in it. The Civil List and 
 Audit Office are also there, and a Board of Stamp and Taxes 
 Revenue. 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 whole public revenue. 
 
 It is a little singular that a building constructed by a pri- 
 vate man for his private residence should now be used as it is. 
 It is a pleasant souvenir of the past, that "golden age," in 
 which the noble was all-in-all, but the millions of people little 
 better than slaves. 
 
REMARKABLE PLACES. 179 
 
 THE FIRE MONUMENT. 
 
 The Fire Monument is one of the finest in the world. It 
 C( 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 thQ 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 dennanded at the door, and we commenced 
 tlie toilsome ascent through a worse than Egyptian darkness. 
 Three hundred and forty-five steps brought us out into light 
 and wholesome air on the summit. The sight was almost 
 overpowering. The morning, though 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 
 ana steamers. The Thames ran gracefully along at our feet, 
 Avith its bosom freighted with steamers, barges, bridges, and 
 boats. On the left Avas 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 IN LONDON. 
 
 written on Westminster Bridge at sunrise, when the city- 
 world was asleep, came to our mind, and the thought of " All 
 that mighty heart" throbbing impulsively before us, was 
 grander than to see it "lying still." Men pouring down 
 Cheapside in one incessant, never-ending stream, earnestly 
 moving onward ; lawyers pressing after debtors, merchants 
 intent on great bargains, stockholders on good dividends, doc- 
 tors on a large practice, the tradespeople on a lively market, 
 and the crossing-sweepers on making pathetic bows, such as 
 win sixpences instead of pennies — carts, wagons, coaches, cabs, 
 omnibuses, and carriages, all pushing on, and making an up* 
 roar like that of a thunder-stoiin ! "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 thp 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 Grreenwich 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. Now the scene before us was all 
 excitement, all noise, and bustle, and confusion. A few hours 
 Bweep on — 
 
 " And all that mighty heart is lying still !" 
 The great world which now lay open before us Avith it? 
 
REMARKABLE PLACES. 181 
 
 gigantic impulses, its miraculous energies, bared to our vision, 
 would in a few hours be helpless as an infant. 
 
 A few years pass away and then they all sleep the Sleej 
 of Ages ! Verily, sic tra?isit gloria muncli I 
 
 " Life in its many shapes is there, 
 The busy and the gay ; 
 Faces that seem too young ithd fair, 
 To ever know decay. 
 
 " WeaUh, with its waste, its pomp and pride, 
 Leads forth its ghttering train ; 
 And Poverty's pale face beside, 
 Asks aid, and asks in vain. 
 
 r 
 
 " Tlie 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 !" 
 
 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 ovei 
 $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 IN LONDON. 
 
 the stones ; and if you opened your eye to the opening of the 
 streets where the fire was come, you 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 Ibundations open to the 
 view of the heavens. 
 
 " And now horrible flakes of fire mounted up to the sky, 
 and the yellow smoke of London ascended up towards heaven, 
 like the smoke of a great furnace — a smoke 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 was no other cloud beside to 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 see that what in 
 the present appear as calamities 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 young, 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. Tloe truth I 
 — that he had dishonored her, and was a liar and a villain. 
 And yet so deeply-rooted was her love, she conld 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 not 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. 
 
 " Will you marry me ?" shrieked the now half-mad girl. 
 
 He protested that he loved her, and had always loved her, 
 but she asked, 
 
 " Will you marry me ?' 
 
 They were not alone — his young companions were about 
 him — but she saw no one but him, heard no one but him, 
 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 — 
 
 ''Nor 
 
 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 dropped 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 I It was the work 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 she lies a 
 mangled corpse on the pavement below. 
 
 This is a traditioc 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 building, the exterior of which does not 
 prepossess the observer in its favor. It is situated in a dirty 
 quarter of London, where Jews of all classes and conditions 
 congregate, 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 E,ag 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 world. 
 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 Hag 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 ! 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 — where 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, and emblazoned with a crown. In this recess are kept 
 the books of the Law. Between rich Doric and Corinthiq.n 
 columns 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 PRE.SENCE 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 Jew^s 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 touchinjr to 
 
186 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 iiear. 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 afiectionate 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 we 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. 18? 
 
 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, w« 
 were 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 
 that some of them 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 ow{i 
 houses, and with their wives and children voluntarily per- 
 ished in the flames, to escape from their infernal Christian 
 persecutors I 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 ! 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACT. 
 
 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 
 of people. The history of England shows clearly that what- 
 rjver 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, Richard 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 for 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 ARISTOCRACY. 189 
 
 of Eiiirlaiid 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 millions voic7ids sterling ! 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 
 Viscount Canning 
 Duke of G rafton 
 Duke of Manchester 
 Duke of Marlborough 
 Duke of Wellington 
 
 15,000 
 15,000 
 50,000 
 10,000 
 20,000 
 20,000 
 
 These are not a moiety of the whole number of pensioners. 
 Every ex-Ambas-ador 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 eliorm ms 
 salaries. The following are only a specimen : 
 
190 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Salary. 
 
 Lord Chancellor $75,000 
 
 Vice Chancellor 30,000 
 
 Chief Justice, Glueen'ti 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 moralitj 
 and virtue, superior to that of any country in Europe. There 
 can he 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. Thert 
 are cases of notoriety where a worse than French morality ia 
 openly professed, but they are exceptions. The majority of» 
 English noblemen are quite respectable in their outward cor 
 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 j'ou 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 beautiful, 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 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 There is a certain Duke in England who is notorious for 
 his parsimony. A more selfish man does not exist. Often 
 when at his country-seat, with his own hands he sells milk 
 to the country-people, and on a certain occasion received a 
 pungent rebnko from a little girl. One morning the daugh- 
 ter of poor parents, a young girl, came for a penny's worth of 
 r-rijk, a^ad the Duke, heing 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, 
 
 " Ye% — hut 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 English 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 ill Paris, imitate the French women, and have their 
 train of lovers, but it is foreign to the nature of an English 
 woman to carry on an intrigue, and when she attempts it she 
 generally fails. It constitutes the life of many French ladies, 
 and their expertness in concealing secret love from the eyes 
 of a careful mother or a jealous husband is surprising ; but 
 the English woman, though she lacked principle, has not the 
 exquisite tact of the Parisian. 
 
 The women among the nobility are distinguished for their 
 beauty, and with good reason. In many 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. 193 
 
 one of the most distinguished beauties of England. Said our 
 friend in a whisper : 
 
 " 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 ivoman can- 
 not be Lady H ." But our friend was correct. We had 
 
 often heard much of her beauty, and indeed she was beauti- 
 ful, but there was no spirituality in her features, no intellect, 
 but a rough, sensual beauty. Sux'.h is the case with some of 
 the English female aristocracy, but as a class, in beauty yfe 
 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 
 ; Clucen, and could hardly believe that there is a wide differ- 
 I. 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, 
 J who are noted for their great beauty, among the English fe- 
 j male aristocracy, but we are not attempting to sketch the 
 ii belles of London. 
 
 !i Aristocracy in England is much more dignified than that 
 ';! of America — for it is useless denying that we have an aristoe- 
 ij racy. Ours is as yet puny, young and not oppressive. The 
 \V English aristocracy has at least an excuse for existence, us 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 its 
 exactions. 
 
 Aristocracy in America is a plaything yet — the great peojjle 
 laugh at it, knowing that real power is theirs in all political 
 matters. Feeling thus, they care little about the pretensions 
 of any family, or clique of families. 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 when 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 man, and 
 his noble qualities are such, that we shall venture to draw hi» 
 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 for his devotion to the cause of Ragged-Schools. 
 Himself and lady are in high repute with the Glueen. 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 with many 
 of the nobles who profess Protestantism. His devotion to his 
 religion amounts almost to fanaticism. 
 
 Lord Dudley Stuart is an ardent liberalist, and is chiefly 
 known for his devotion to the cause of Poland. He was the 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY. 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 Pahnerslon, the Foreign Secic;- 
 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 who 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. 
 Grtkdually 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 fiithcr's boot-black 1 He rose from his humble 
 calling first to be a clerk ; then he amassed a small property 
 by close economy, and at an early age began to speculate in 
 
196 WHAT I SAW 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. 
 He was now welcome to the best of society, but through the 
 extravagant conduct of his wife he was nearly ruined. Such 
 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 more 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 busiwess, 
 and entered high society. 
 
 But though there are occasionally such cases in England, 
 the pressure is downward, and the majority of enterprising 
 minds are crashed 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 'proud. 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 i'riend of authors and artists, and in society does not ex- 
 hibit any of that odious exclusiveness which disgraces so 
 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, it 
 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 hen- 
 
198 WHAT I 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 West Riding, and Lord Morpeth was returned to Parlia- 
 ment without the opposition of a single voter. Richard 
 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 Russell 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 sincerity, 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 ARISTOCRAUi. 199 
 
 and made a most eloquent speech in honor of those men who 
 are the true glory of any laud. 
 
 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 bold 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 fr6m 
 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 liis thorough 
 liberality of sentiment. He is far more just towards us than 
 many 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 tluincv 
 
200 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Adams " was truly an. ' old man eloquent I' " Congresp nc 
 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. 
 
 LORD 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, yoi? 
 are wofully disappointed. What ! — that man the Ex-Chan- 
 cellor Brougham, upb^i 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 ; who 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. 201 
 
 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 and daring words : " Slie 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 utmost sang f raid. The Government wished 
 his SL'rvices, 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 office become the Speaker of 
 the House of Lords, and of course a peer of the realm. But 
 Brougham was a mere commoner. 
 
 "You are hot 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 affbrd 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 
 bein 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 age 
 can boast no other man who has the varied acquirements of 
 Brougham. He has 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 Bar in the year 1800. In 1820 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 Liverpool 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 now enjoys a pension 
 of $25,000 a year as retired Chancellor ; is a Privy Council- 
 lor ; President of the London University ; and a member of 
 the National Institute of France, where — at Cannes — 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 
 foppishly, 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 ! 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 
 60 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. The London daily papers are the ablest in 
 the world, so far as mere writing talent is concerned. And 
 first of all, towering far above 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 with 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 tha 
 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 escapes 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 
 afiord 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 Mi:. 
 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 tiie usual 
 papers, and this is often 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 
 
JOURNALISM. 206 
 
 talent, energy, and consummate abilities this leviathan sheet 
 stands at the head of journalism in Europe. As a mere news 
 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 can be said in its favor. There 
 is another and a darker side to be looked at. There does not 
 exist in Europe a more unpinncipled journal than the Times. 
 There 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 pecuniariUj 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 
 lor foreign news. It is steadily— the only thing it is steady 
 in — 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 coin the basest 
 
206 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 lies against Mazzini and Kossuth. Its course in this matter 
 has aroused the indignation of universal 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 shivering in our streets, brought down from lofty places to 
 beg their bread in the midst of winter — how shall we de- 
 scribe the wretches who are base enough to traduce tha 
 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 persisted in stating 
 that Mazzini was in Genoa, carrying out his revolutionary 
 projects. Day after day it reiterated this statement, and yet 
 we knew 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 !" 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 English 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 with personal safety !" The unprincipled but talented 
 
JOURNALISM. 207 
 
 gentleman was kept in London doing nothing on a full salary, 
 until there was 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. 
 Although 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 PRESS. 
 
 Few in America are aware of the exceeding difficulty of 
 establishing a daily journal 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 lai'ger 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, Morni7ig Chronicle, and Fost, are scattered, 
 everywhere over the land in a few hours, by the express- 
 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 through 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 upon the newspapers. Every newspaper in 
 the kingdom must pay into tlie coffers of the government two 
 cents for its every sheet. This makes the risk cf those who 
 attempt the publication of new journals exceedingly great. 
 Tlie well-established journals like the tax, for it crushes all 
 
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 
 printed inscriptions upon them ; men, encompassed with 
 boards, upon which are written flaming advertisements, and 
 even dogs perambulate the streets. Small bills ai-e 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 News, 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 vv^ho 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 X30,000 I He had the numbers splen- 
 didly bound, and whenever 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 I" 
 
 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 months 
 duration, it died. 
 
JOURKALISM. 209 
 
 The Daily News is, perhaps, the next paper in London in 
 itiiportance 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 Daily Ncivs, 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 Mor?ii?ig 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 offend 
 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 Morning Advertiser is owned by the Licensed Vict- 
 uallers Association, and is taken in by every victualler in 
 London and the 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 to revenge itself upon the Foreign Secretary, Lord 
 Palmerston. 
 
 WEEKLY PRESS. 
 
 The 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 liheral. 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 Exam- 
 iner popular with all drama-loving people. While its editor, 
 he wrote a paragraph reflecting somewliat 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 
 Exa^niner while 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 the 
 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- 
 aminer. 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 just in his criticisms of American works. 
 
 The Sunday Dispatch 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 Express 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 with 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, well 
 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 arms 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. \\\ attempting to publish the work him- 
 self, Mr. Jerdan finally became a bankrupt. 
 
 The Athenceum 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 Clueen 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 XL 
 
 THE QUEEN AND PRINCE ALBERT. 
 
 The portraits of Q,ueen Victoria, seen in this country, are 
 generally correct and faithful likenesses. She is of mediuta 
 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, M'hen she 
 was a girl, she was allowed by her mother to go for a few 
 minutes to the window and gaze at the crowd of people in 
 
214 WHAT I SAW IN LONDOIT. 
 
 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 ?" 
 
 " J.^ my people!'' she answered, in a tone of pride and 
 haughtiness. 
 
 One morning while we were in London, the Glueen 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 groixp of the royal f^^mily, before 
 which stood the real dueen and Prince Albert. After gaz- 
 ing at the wax group for awhile, ihe 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 oif, 
 and his knees bent with a quickness that would surprise an 
 unused republican. The Royal 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 Glueen Vic- 
 toria I 
 
 In economy, Victoria is said to be an adept, and in her 
 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 Q0EEN 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, atid 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 thfe 
 Houses of Parliament was crowded by people from all ranks 
 of society. At a little before two o'clock, the Glueen 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 uniform, and 
 looked very well. 
 
 The Duchess of Sutherland was in the carriage with the 
 Clueen, 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 LOKDON. 
 
 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 tliis royal pageant with the 
 simpler ceremonies attendant upon the opening of our Con- 
 gress. The President is open to all, but the dueen 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 tc Uughter 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- 
 knoM^n fact, and some have gone so far as to state the cause 
 to be her early love for an English nobleman, Avhom, accord- 
 ing to the Constitution, she could not marry. 
 
 This story is prorobly not true, though before her marriage 
 it is well known that she was quite intimate with a certain 
 lord, 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 Glueen 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 
 
 Ai 
 
THE QUKEN AND PRINCE ALBERT. 217 
 
 taste ; Von Raumer declared that he would not accept difree 
 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-E,oom, 
 the Throne Room, the Picture Gallery, the Yellow Drawing- 
 Room, the Saloon, the Bail-Room, and the State Dining- 
 Room. 
 
 The Picture Room is at cei'tain 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,ueeu 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 &.lone three 
 hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds. 
 
 St. James' Palace was built in the fifteenth century, but 
 since then has undergone mahy 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 Glueen holds all her levees, and is ? 
 
 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- 
 
PArt„'/ MENT. 219 
 
 nity, 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 born 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 was speaking upon some insignificant 
 question, and when he sat down we noticed that the peers 
 present grew excessively noisy. The confusion increased, and. 
 §oon we saw fresh newspaper sheets in the hands of several. 
 The news soon flew to us in the Gallej-y — the King of the 
 French had abdicated his throne! Consternation 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 people by the ofier of titles. 
 Here lies a great secret in regard to English Reform. The 
 nobility know exceedingly well when and how to bribe. 
 HaiTy 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 office 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 side 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 And, 
 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 for the people as one could expect, oM'ing to his aristo- 
 cratic 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 pleasant, 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 House. 
 His personal appearance is classical, his speeches are models 
 of parliamentary eluquence, 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 cori'ect, and in 
 this respect he is a fortunate man. There are three men in 
 ^Parliament whose portraits cannot fail to be correct, their 
 features are so ludicrously striking. They are Brougham, 
 Wi^llington, and Russell. The first has such a compressed 
 face, the second so beaked a nose, and the last so grannyisji 
 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 Glueen 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 their 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 handkert-hiefs, 
 the ringing of bells, and the roaring of cannon. When she 
 arrives at the House she is first conducted to the Robing 
 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 
 Ireland. 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 Eiiglisli politician frequently expends fifty or a hun- 
 dred thousand 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 flattenng 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 tne 
 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 ojiposer. 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, blaci 
 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. 
 Bis eloquence is of the simplest cast, yet has the potent 
 quality of convincing. There is no bombast in it, no flowing 
 
224 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON, 
 
 rhetoric, but it satisfies. Ko other man could have converted 
 the mighty intellect of Peel to Anti-Corn Lawism save sim- 
 ple, straightforward E-ichard 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 ai'istocracy. John Bright, the (Qua- 
 ker member, is an enthusiastic speaker, and was the compeer 
 of Cobden through the great Coi;n Law struggle. Fox is a 
 chaste orator, and George Thompson has eminent abilities as 
 a speaker — and both are Liberals. 
 
 Lord George Bentlnck was for a few years previous to his 
 death the leader of the Protectionist party in 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, Benjamin 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 eflect. He often expends his wit upon the defenders of 
 Truth, but in such cases it falls harmless to the ground ; but 
 occasionally 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 skies 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. 
 J* 15 
 
526 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 
 affected — 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 the nation remembers that once he was, while out of 
 office, a flaming reformer, but now a craven aristocrat. In 
 the days of the Reform 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 — perhaps again to deceive 
 them. 
 
PARLIAMENT. 227 
 
 We saw Sir Robert Peel in the House of Commons during 
 our first year in the metropolis, and we always tliought 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 coinTtenance always in grand repose, and 
 his person in keeping with 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 ! 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 must be repealed. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 A TKIP TO HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 One pleasant day, as the Spring was just .dying aw^ay into 
 Sunamer, with a few friends, in a jjrivate, open carriage, we 
 made a delightful excursion to Hampton Court. In a short 
 time we had left Piccadilly, the Clubs, 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 anriong 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 
 taken care 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 Hampton 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 contempla- 
 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, w"ere 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 ! Occasionally we rested our 
 oars and floated silently backward on the stream while we 
 gazed at all the SM'eet 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 afibrd 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, aa 
 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, while back of them in magnificent 
 splendor rose the palace which Cardinal Wolsey built for 
 himself, but when questioned by the king, Henry VIII., why 
 he had built a palace more sumptuous than any in the king- 
 dom, he gracefully and at once gave it to his majesty. 
 
 K,uuning our boats ashore, we put them into tlie 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 VIII. 's reign, at the summit 
 of his power wished to build a magnificent palace for his 
 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 VII. 
 
 John Skelton, a poet of Wolsey's time, wrote the following 
 lines, which show the dissatisfaction of the people at the 
 Cardinal's magnificence : 
 
 " The Kingyes Court 
 Should have the excellence ! 
 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 1" 
 
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 fell. He was impeached, arrested for treason, and 
 dica, 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 king. 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 wives (if we mistake not) Here 
 for a short time. 
 
 Edward VI. was born in Hampton Palace, in 1537, and his 
 mother, poor Jane Seymour, only survived his birth a few 
 days. Henry loved her better than any of his other wives. 
 She it was whom he married the day after his former wife, 
 Anne Boleyn, was beheaded. 
 
 Gtueen Mary and Philip of Spain, spent their honeymoon 
 in 1558, at this place. Clueen 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., Glueen Anne, died here in 1618. 
 Charles I. spent some time at Hampton Palace in 1625, to 
 get out of the way of the plague, which was raging fearfully 
 in 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 18th of November, 1657, and the following year his 
 
232 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 favorite daughter, Mrs. Claypole, died in it. Georgt 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 Pope 
 Leo X. to Wolsey, purposely to decorate his Grand Palace, and 
 have recently been repaired. 
 
 This was the grand old Palace we were entering, and with 
 all its rich liistorical associations in our memory, the reader 
 will not M'onder 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 Glueens 
 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 Verrio, 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 
 fully equip a thousand men. There are also sevei'al 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 strnck 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," ther3 are among others two or three beautiful 
 paiutnigs by the old master, Titian, and in the " Audience 
 Chamber" there are some excellent scripture pieces by old 
 
4. TRIP TO HAMPTON 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- 
 uiJs. 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 
 which have since been adopted by the Jesuits. Vemcs and 
 Caj.id, by Titian, is also a beautiful painting in the same room. 
 
 [\\ the " King's Drawing Room" there is a powerful piece 
 by Poussiti, entitled " Christ's Agony in the Garden." In 
 *' King William's Bed Room" is the identical state-bed 
 used by Q,ueen 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 Glueen, 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 IN LONDON. 
 
 it there are many paintings which to us were full of interest. 
 There were a dozen difl'erent paintings of Glueen 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 
 she was 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 woman, 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 €croll 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 Glueen. 
 Elizabeth, who it is well 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 restles swallow fits my restles mind, 
 In still revivinge, still reneuinge wrongs : 
 Her just complaint of cruelty unkinde 
 Are all the rausique 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 physicke 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. 236 
 
 Not one of all the portraits of Q,ueen 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 will hurry on to the " Closet," which contains the 
 cartoons of Raphael. They are so called because they are 
 painted on sheets of paper. They were bought for Charles I. 
 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 hag not with 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 dueen 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 VIII. , 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 we 
 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 ! 
 
 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 Q-uiet 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 haunts 
 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. 
 
 the firmament, which, though not so brilliant, are as beautiful 
 as the largest. There 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 hands 
 of the world. 
 
 In passing up a street called " City E,oad," 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, which 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 pious 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 the 
 little gate to decipher the quaint inscriptions upon the time- 
 worn stones. 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 239 
 
 The yard is of considerable extent, and is very thickly 
 strewn 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, but 
 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, 
 
 " Obt. 31s« August, 1688, 
 '' Aet. 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 
 
240 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 resting-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 tlie 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 chui'ches. 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 : 
 
 " He goes on Sunday to the church, 
 
 And sits among his boj's ; 
 He hears the parson pray and preach, 
 
 lie 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 lauds on these holiest of 
 
REMIKISCKNCES OF THE PAST. 24J 
 
 all days ! And speaking of sabbaths — a sabbath morning in 
 London in the summer time is a beautiful sight ! People clad 
 in their best crowd all the streets on their ^ayto church, and 
 the chimes from a thousand bells fill the air \yith 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 anything more beautiful. The 
 distance made the music soft, 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 
 were 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 LONDON. 
 
 STOKE NEWINGTON. 
 
 We made one day a delightful visit to Stoke Newington, 
 an ancient suburb of London, and saw many things full of 
 interest. Many years ago Stoke Newington was a very fash- 
 ionable place for residence. In Clueen Eli2;abeth's time there 
 was a royal residence in it. We were shown a delightful 
 walk, lined with ancient oak-trees, which is called " Glueen 
 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 IV. used as a residence 
 for some of his mistresses. 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 Cluaker 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-yard 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. Barbanld 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 
 
REiJIiMSCENCES OF THE PAST. 243 
 
 time. There is a Common, east of the house, on which he 
 used to luve to walk in pleasant weather. The house is old 
 and crumblinp;, 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 window-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 ! 
 
 The house in which Mrs. Barbauld lived 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 
 occasion, and attended meeting there one day. The old pews 
 and the pulpit were 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 dow." upon Isaac 
 Watts I Our thoughts, we fear, were not with i,ne preacher 
 while Ave 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 I" Almost 
 every family among the poor respectable classes in England, 
 has some member, or relation in America. The old man 
 asked a thousand qiiestions 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 knew, and 
 loved, and who often used to come and play among the 
 flowers 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 ! She was dressed 
 as if alive, and was half reclining upon a sofa in the drawing- 
 room. Her cheeks were 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. 245 
 
 ing — and the odor of flowers came in with the songs of 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 
 off from 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 to 
 that effect. It formerly was a part of the park belonging to 
 .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 
 churches 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 
 such places we always cherished a fondness. Not always to 
 
246 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, where the bones of great 
 men repose in grandeur, was it our pleasure to wander to 
 gather reminiscences of the past, but to quieter places, to 
 neglected spots. 
 
 In the village of Hampstead, a suburb of London on the 
 west, Joanna Baillie, the distinguished authoress, 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 view 
 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 upward 
 on the breezes which hasten over the great town. A more 
 beautiful burial-spot we never saw, though the cemetery is 
 often surpassed, taken as a whole ; and it is fit that a poetess 
 should be buried in such a place. 
 
 Not far from Hampstead is Highgate Cemetery, and we . 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 247 
 
 walked over to it. It is by far — in our opinion — the 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 Plunt, 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 Li 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 
 Pomewhere by himself before ? To Shelley, the feeling, which 
 was probably an illusion of the brain, Vas like a revelation 
 of something beyond the common sight of men, an insight into 
 the mysterious past, and he felt awed, surprised, affected \r> 
 
248 WHAT I SAW IK LONDON. 
 
 tears with the thought that jn-evious to his present existence 
 'le 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, M'hich 
 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 interredthere — 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." Not 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 iives on the Surrey side of the Thames, 
 has a beautiful home, -vnd is a remarkable v/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 who 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 — Tliomas, 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 Redclifie 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 fostered his love for antique things, which had 
 K* 
 
250 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 been kindled in his lonely wanderings through Redciiflp 
 Church. At eight he became a member of the Bristol Blue- 
 cote School, and yva.s an astonishing di vourer of books. He 
 abstracted time fi'om his sleeping hours 1o 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 out 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 
 church, 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 'limself to join a roving band of gipsies, 
 then in the vicinity of 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 
 EngUsh 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 
 Avrite poetry that should reflect honor and fame upon a ficti- 
 tious personage ! 
 
 Disguising himself, he wrote to Horace Walpole of London, 
 then at the head of the literary world, mentioned his discove- 
 ries, and sent a specimen of the poetry. Walpole, supp6sing 
 him to be some distinguished antiquarian, wrote back as to 
 an equal, and praised the poetry as containing the proofs of 
 great genius. 
 
 Now, Chatterton 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, however, 
 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 Walpole, had been de- 
 ceived by a mere boy. How easily he might have protected 
 him and led liim on, step by step, to one of the highest pin- 
 nacle-; of Fame ! But no. When he saw that a mere boy 
 had wroujjht 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 his 
 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 Shoredkch, but the poor man could ill afford to harbor the 
 melancholy poet. Next he removed to a kind-hearted milli- 
 
262 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 ner's, in Broolc-street, Holboni, where be stayed aiitil liis 
 death. The buildmg is now occupied by one Stcfiauoni, as a 
 furniture warehouse, and we visited it one day. Here he 
 lived many weeks on the borders of starvation, for he only 
 hired the garret-room of the miUiner, 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 light, 
 Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals !" 
 
 Alas ! not one of all the great ones who had praised the 
 poetry of the supposed monk offered 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 was 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 OP 
 
 "THOMAS CHATTERTOK 
 " 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 corpse 
 
REMINISCENCES OF 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 I If he 
 could only have known that a century from then, a mere 
 iragment 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 its 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 diffi- 
 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 tho 
 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 In london. 
 
 Bishop JN'ewton. Next to these are those of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, the painter, and Benjamin West of Pennsylvania. A 
 feeling strange and powerful came over usas 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 Groldsmith I 
 
 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 effi- 
 gies in stone. One was of Dr. Donne 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 !" 
 
 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\er placed in it. U'pon ih\& 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 uiwn a man's grave. 
 
 There was an air of av/-ful gloom over and around the spot 
 — we could have seen nothing but for the guide's lantern. 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 255 
 
 The old man seemed lost in thouglit, and was not garrulous 
 as guides usually are. 
 
 " And this is Nelson's tomb !" said we aloud. 
 
 " Yes," replied the guide, " but you should have seen his 
 funeral." 
 
 " Did you see it ?" we asked. • 
 
 " 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 was 
 drawn by six splendid horses, each being led. The Prince of 
 Wales followed it, and the Dukes of York, Clarence, iCent, 
 Cumberland, Sussex and Cambridge. There were also there 
 many of the noble men who fought his battles with him. 
 Hardy seamen 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 when 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 and grand, and by invisible machinery a bier was 
 raised from the vault below to the aperture under the dome, 
 and upon it the coffin was placed. ^ Sailors folded up the flags 
 of the Victory and laid them in the grave. The noble sea- 
 veterans were determined 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 could not 
 bear to leave." 
 
 We asked the old man if the masses out of doors mani- 
 fested any sorrow. 
 
 " Yes — all Londo'n was in gloom. Sailors 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 
 saviour. But to us, Reynolds with his brush and canvass 
 was greater than Nelson upon hds Victory ! 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 STRANGERS IN LONDON. 
 AMERICANS. 
 
 We can hardly understand the reason, but it is a fact," 
 that many citizens of America, when travelling in Europe, 
 seem to lose their democratic principles, 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 g-uin I'espect 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 changed 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, we have," we replied 
 
 " But none like Shakspeare and Milton!" she said. 
 
 " Shakspeare and Milton are no more 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 we, 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 Americans 
 worship English aristocrats when 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 him 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 kings. Even in Paris where there is a 
 natural fondness 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 
 necessary. 
 
 As a general rule the Americans are received well in Eng- 
 
STRANGERS IN LONDON. 259 
 
 lisli circles. As a matter 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 
 such 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 fact. 
 It is well-known that he was petted and flattered by the first 
 nobles of England. Some have gone so far as to accuse him 
 of king-worship, but unjustly. No American, it is true, ever 
 was received in a more cordial manner by the English 
 aristocracy. Invitations poured in upon him from all quarters, 
 but he never for a moment disavowed his repubiican and 
 democratical opinions, and never would hear an unjust remark 
 in reference to America without replying to it. He however 
 was a candid man, and whenyz^s;^ criticisms were made upon 
 this country, he acknowledged their truth, and also claimed 
 the same liberty to criticize what he saw wrong in England. 
 When he returned to America he published his volumes, in 
 which he was not afraid to expose the terrible poverty in 
 England, and the wretched condition of the English peasantry. 
 From the nature of his book, it consisting of many graphic 
 pictures of aristocratic life, it had a very wide circulation 
 among the nobility. And they respected him the more for 
 his conscientious deportment, and when he returned again to 
 England, the same halls and castles were open to him with 
 
260 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 the old warmth of reception — indeed his second visit was 
 more flattering than the first. It is told of him, that when 
 the late French Revolution broke out, he was at the country- 
 seat of one of the English nobles. The news of Louis 
 Philippe's overthrow came while the party were at dinner. 
 Every one deprecated it, and spoke in terms of disapprobation 
 of the republicans. Said Mr. Colman : 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, but I love politi- 
 cal liberty, and thank God that there is so fine a prospect of 
 seeing Frenchmen in the possession of it I" 
 
 But it should not be the aim of American traTVellers to see 
 aristocratic life in Europe — they had far bctt, r study the 
 'people, move among the refined and wise if they wish, but not 
 become the despicable followers and flatterers of some heredi- 
 tary despot for the sake of winning one of his smiles. These 
 very men despise, from the bottom of their hearts, those 
 Americans Avho are so recreant to their principles. There is 
 a call for reform in this base business, for already in certain 
 portions of Europe, we are looked upon as the defenders of old 
 Conservatism, rather than political Liberalism. Such is not 
 the fact. • The people of this country are radically democratic, 
 but are often misrepresented abroad, both by common travel- 
 lers and lawful representatives at foreign courts. This should 
 be the case no longer. 
 
 GRISI AND ALBONI. 
 
 We saw Mademoiselle Alboni before we saw her great 
 rival the " Swedish Nightingale." Madame Grisi sang with 
 her upon the occasion, and to our ears, sang very enchantingly, 
 too. But she is no longer the rage of the fashionable world 
 — her triumph-days are gone. Making no pretensions to 
 musical skill, we of course venture upon no criticisms, yet 
 relate impre&sions. We heard these mistresses of song at the 
 
STRANGERS IN LONDON. 261 
 
 Italian Opera House ; a single box we occupied costing twenty- 
 five dollars. We stepped into it a little before eight o'clock, 
 and were pleasantly astonished at the sight. Imagine a vast 
 interior, lighted by a mammoth chandelier, emitting light 
 almost like a sun, — several hundred splendid boxes, filled 
 with the nobility and aristocracy of England, blood, wealth, 
 and genius — a vast pit, a stall gallery, and an amphitheatre. 
 The dress-etiquette of the boxes is very rigid, and perhaps (as 
 the Opera-goers claim) it is well that it is so. The opera for 
 the evening was Scott's Lady of the Lake Italianized. The 
 orchestra was immense in numbers, and the effect of its 
 music was indescribably grand. An idea of the power and 
 sublimity of musical sounds stole over us such as we never 
 felt before. The scenic displays were gorgeous and beautiful. 
 Madame Grisi was dressed in the simplest manner possible — 
 in plain white, with a crimson sash tied prettily about the 
 waist. Her figure like her acting was good, especially when 
 fire, enthusiasm, and daring were in the lines she sung. Her 
 eyes flashed forth the true Italian fire, and her hair was dark 
 and beautiful. Her voice, to us, M^as supassingly thrilling and 
 passionate, and while she sung we could but recollect the 
 anecdote of her; which is said to be true — hoAV that once 
 being invited by some haughty nobleman in London, to an 
 evening party, when the supper was announced, an official 
 politely informed her that supper was provided in a distinct 
 room for the musicians ! The proud nobleman in the 
 insolence of his hauteur ^oxgQt ixne politeness in his treatment 
 of a guest. How Grisi stormed — how her black eyes flashed 
 lightning, and her step grew proud ! A half-dozen of the 
 elite of the nobility and literary aristocracy followed her to 
 her supper-room, and there with her associate singers, she 
 sung such songs of marvellous beauty, that the outsiders 
 begged admittance, but found the door locked against them. 
 We could see yet in Madame Grisi the magnificent, 
 
262 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 passionate acting, and that sweet dignity which has ever been 
 one ol her characteristics. 
 
 Mademoiselle Alboni sang the part of Malcolm, the same 
 evening, and her voice was the softest, clearest we then 
 had ever heard. She was dressed with simplicity, and the 
 charm of her acting was in a certain naivete which appeared^ 
 in every gesture. She is enormously fat, with a beautiful 
 complexion, auburn hair, and a low broad forehead. When 
 she came out upon the stage, she was greeted with great 
 applause, and her first notes were like a bird's — so soft, 
 gushing, and artless. Although far away from her in a 
 distant box, each note came clearly to us, and distinctly. At 
 length she seemed to gather courage, or passion, and grew 
 more fitful and declamatory in her style and voice. Then 
 the mighty orchestra broke in upon her, and yet above its 
 tempest, her sweet voice warbled, fainter, yet almost as 
 clearly as ever. Then the orchestra's thunder died away and 
 she M^as alone, soaring step by step to her climax. Every 
 moment added to the intense passion of her manner, and the 
 wonderful compass of her voice. Up and up, farther and 
 farther in the blue, above soared her voice, until an idea seized 
 us that a certain note, so high that we could scarcely imagine 
 it, should be her resting-place, should complete the harmony. 
 And by one bold efibrt she reached it and poised there like a 
 lark, filling the capacious theatre with the thrilling note, and 
 then sank back exhausted. All had been still, painfully still, 
 until her climax was reached and finished, but then such a 
 clapping of soft, white hands, such a waving of handkerchiefs 
 we never saw before. The Earl of Carlisle arose in his box, 
 and threw to her a splendid bouquet, which with admirable 
 perception and gracefulness she threw into the hands of her 
 rival, Grisl. Two of the sons of ex-king Louis Philippe were 
 present and followed suit with bouquets. 
 
 We were in London during one of the "seasons" of Jenny 
 
STRANGERS IN LONDON. 263 
 
 Lind's triumph there. One night she sang at the Italian 
 Opera in Lucie di Lammermoor. The price of boxes rose 
 from twenty-five dollars to eighty, and were eagerly bought 
 at that price. There was the same enthusiasm in London as 
 in American towns, recently, during the wondrous perform- 
 ances of the " nightingale." In America M'e have not seen 
 her to advantage, for she is most triumphant in the Opera. 
 Her acting is surpassingly beautiful. Her manner was so 
 artless and frank that she captivated all hearts, and would 
 have done so had her voice been less beautiful than it was. 
 With a good-natured countenance, mild eyes, and a pleasant 
 mouth, consummffte acting, and a voice superior perhaps to 
 any in the world, it is not strange that all London was mad 
 to see her. To us her chief glory lies in the fact that with 
 all her almost miraculous powers, notwithstanding all the 
 splendid temptations which luxurious noblemen threw in her 
 way, she remains as pure, as free, and generous, as when she 
 graced the simple home of her father at Stockholm. Amid 
 the applauses and flatteries of the Berliners, the Parisians, the 
 Londoners, and the Americans, she preserves her original sim- 
 plicity and pureness of heart. One of her intimate friends, 
 while in England, was Mrs. S. C. Hall, the authoress, whose 
 beautiful residence of " The Rosary," at Old Brompton, Lon- 
 don, was not far from the house Mdlle. Lind occupied. 
 
 FREILIGRATH. 
 
 We visited one spring evening, by invitation, the celebrated 
 German exile-poet, Ferdinand Freiligrath. His residence 
 was then in a northern suburb of the town, a half-hour's brisk 
 ride from the Exchange. We met with a warm reception 
 from the poet, from the fact of our being an American. He 
 Was alone, in his drawing-room, reading. We were disap- 
 pointed in his appearance — perhaps agreeably so. We had 
 
264 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 supposed that an exile in the cause of liberty must be pale of 
 face, spiritual, and his body attenuated. But we were mis- 
 taken ; instead of a wasted martyr, we saw a large and ro- 
 bust man, with a full, broad face, and huge beard, and an 
 abundance of fine, black hair. His forehead was exceedingly 
 large and rotund. Ideality, as fixed by the phrenologists, 
 was large, as well as Causality. His face was intellectual, 
 and yet there was marked animality in it. Indeed, from this 
 we tliink arises his great love for his kind. Mere intellect 
 cares for science and the arts, and overlooks humanity. The 
 great poet, or artist, is full of strong impulses or passions, and 
 these, guided by intellect, enable him to write poetry. In 
 many instances the animal feelings ruin the man, as in the 
 case of Byron. But without them the poet is not readable — 
 his literary offspring lack fire and jjower : 
 
 " If he stir you at all, it is just, on my soul, 
 Like being stirred up with the very North Pole." 
 
 We were soon talking of America, a subject which inter- 
 ested the poet deeply, for he is himself a republican in senti- 
 ment. Of our great natural resources he spoke in terms of 
 wonder, and also of the energy of the American nation. 
 When he spoke of his native land he became sadder. The 
 first Prussian revolution had transpired, and he was full of 
 hope, if not for the establishment of republicanism, of a con- 
 stitutional monarchy, and eventually of something still more 
 democratical. " He spoke with great interest of Professor Long- 
 fellow, whose acquaintance he formed in Germany years ago, 
 and with whom he has since corresponded. 
 
 During the evening his wife entered the room, and we had 
 the pleasure of making her acquaintance. She is a fair speci- 
 men of German female beauty (among the refined classes), 
 has dark hair, and beautiful gray eyes, pale cheeks with a 
 tinge of crimson, and a slender form. 
 
STRANGERS IN LONDON. 265 
 
 They were making preparations to go back to Prussia, as 
 his friends were again in power. 
 
 Freiligratli was born at Detmold, the capital of the little 
 princedom of Lippe-Detmold, Prussia, on the 17th of June, 
 1820. In 1835 he first began to publish his poetry in the 
 German newspapers. Af that time he was a merchant's 
 clerk — an office not congenial to the taste of a poet. Gradu- 
 ally and surely his reputation extended, until he was great. 
 In 1839 he threw up his mercantile profession, and devoted 
 himself to literature. In 1844 he pubhshed a work entitled, 
 " Confession of Faith," in which he advocated democracy. 
 The ire of the king was ignited by it, and he was obliged to 
 flee for his life. He knew not where to go. He was poor, 
 but trusted in God, and kept a stout heart. William Howitt 
 .made an arrangement for him to become connected with a 
 German house in London, for which he should receive a good 
 salary, and he accordingly came to England, where he re- 
 mained two years. He was warmly welcomed by that por- 
 tion of the English literary world that has sympathies with 
 humanity and the spirit of the age, but the aristocracy slighted 
 the exile. Bulwer once called upon him, but the men and 
 women of place and power passed him by. It mattered little, 
 however, for such men as Thackeray, Howitt, and Dickens 
 welcomed him. He needed not their smiles, for a brilliant 
 triumph was awaiting him in Prussia. 
 
 A few weeks after we saw him, on the evening above men- 
 tioned, he returned to his native Prussia, and everywhere the 
 people gathered at his feet with huzzas of welcome. He 
 shortly after wrote a poem entitled " The Dead to the Liv- 
 ing," which was published. It eloquently exposed the con- 
 duct of the King during the revolution. On the 29th of Au- 
 gust, 1848, while at Dusseldorf, he was again arrested on the 
 charge of high treason, and was summoned before the Minis- 
 ter of Public Instruction. Dusseldorf was in a state of intense 
 I 
 
20y WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 excitement. The evening of liis arrest seven thousand stu 
 dents marched its streets, solemly chantuig his poem. The 
 effect was thrilhng. Thousands offered to beat down his 
 prison-walls and release him, but it was wisely resolved to 
 await his trial, which was the first under the new constitu- 
 tion, granting a trial by jury. His wife and children were 
 allowi'd to visit him four times each week in the presence of 
 an ofiicer. On the third of October he was brought to his 
 trial. Six hundred of the Bitrgher Guai'd surrounded the 
 building in which his trial was conducted. The building 
 was crowded to excess by some of the noblest men and 
 women in Prussia, witnesses of the scene. There was no 
 boisterous excitement ; every face was solemn and sad — they 
 were to see thM day whether there was liberty in Prussia or 
 not. Freiligrath, calm as a statue, entered, and when he 
 had taken his seat, as if by magic, a thousand beautiful bou- 
 quets were thrown at his feet, but there were no outbursts 
 of applause. It was clearly proved that 9,000 copies of his 
 poem had been sold — that he was the -author. 
 
 " What is your verdict ?" asked the Clerk of the Court, 
 of the Foreman. 
 
 " Not Guilty I" was his answer, and then the Avails of the 
 court-room vibrated as with thunder. The poet was borna 
 on the shoulders of th^e sturdy Germans away to his home. 
 The balconies and windows in the streets were full of fine 
 ladies, who waved their handkerchiefs, and the people in the 
 streets spread his path with branches and flowers, to his 
 house. He felt it, and all Germany felt it to be a triumph 
 of the cause of Truth and Freedom. But the days of aristo- 
 cratic rule hastened on ; there came a reaction, and Ferdi- 
 nand Fx'eiligrath once more was in danger of his life if he re- 
 mained in his native land. Once more the noble patriot flea 
 to England, where he irow is awaiting calmly the next great 
 Revolution of Nations, which shall give to the people their 
 liberties. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 POPULAR ORATORS. 
 
 There are few really great and popiilar orators in Eng- 
 land, or London at the present time. There are parliamen- 
 tary speakers of eminent ability, there are pulpit orators of 
 renown, but there are few popular out-door orators. Daniel 
 O'Conuell, who used to rouse the great masses of people as a 
 whirlwind does a forest of trees, is no more ; George Thomp- 
 son, who once had exceeding power as a public orator, seems 
 of late to confine himself to his parliamentary duties, and 
 many of the orators of the days of the Reform Bill are now 
 silent. Cobden and Bright are indeed very popular with the 
 people, and we have alluded to them in another chapter, but 
 they are not masters of splendid oratory. John Burnet is a 
 popular speaker among the people ; an humorous Scotchman 
 among the ranks of the Reformers. Charles Gilpin is also an 
 enthusiastic speaker. One reason why England is so devoid 
 of popular eloquence is because for the last few years she has 
 been in a stagnant condition, socially and politically. No 
 great agitation has swept over the land to call out eloquence. 
 The Reform Bill Agitation furnished its own orators, and so 
 did the Anti-Corn-Law movement, but sinc& then no national 
 commotion has aroused the spiiit of the people. 
 
 Joseph Sturge is a popular man throughout England, 
 though possessing none of the graces of oratory. He is not 
 so great in intellect as in goodness ; his devotion to all humane 
 objects, to all reforms, is that of a sincere and thorough 
 
268 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Christian. His popularity is unbounded throughout the king- 
 dom, for he is known everywhere for his charities. He is 
 wealthy, but gives much of his income to the poor, and his 
 life is " a daily beauty." He once stood for Parliament, re- 
 fusing to bribe electors in any manner or shape, and lacked 
 only seventy votes of an election. He was opposed by John 
 Walter of the Times, who spent in bribes more than $75,- 
 000, for which he was unseated. Mr. Sturge is about fifty 
 years old, and -has a face innocent and loveful as a child'a 
 His forehead is beautifully large and rutund ; his hair is soft 
 and curly, and his eyes are blue and mild. He is not a fluent 
 speaker, and is not distinguished for his eloquence, but there 
 is always sagacity in his words. His audiences are always 
 extremely enthusiastic, and the reason is, because he does so 
 much for the people. 
 
 EDWARD MIALL. 
 
 We would like to give to the reader a sketch of the two 
 best of England's popular orators, and will commence with 
 Edward Miall. He is upon yonder platform, and is about to 
 speak. There are thousands crowding about him, and as he 
 comes forward they rise involuntarily, and greet him with a 
 storm of cheers. In a moment, however, they are hushed, 
 and still holding their breath, as it were, to catch his first 
 faint words. He is a stripling in appearance, slim and pale, 
 yet with eyes dark and flashing, and soft, black hair. He 
 trembles with emotion or timidity even to the tips of his 
 fingers. At first you can scarcely hear him speak, he is so 
 tremulous and low-voiced, but by degrees he becomes ab- 
 sorbed in his subjects-he forgets his audience — and each suc- 
 cessive sentence grows in eloquence and power, until you find 
 yourself breathless, gasping to grasp every idea, every word 
 and action I Each sentence is, you notice, beautifully con 
 
POPULAR ORATORS. 269 
 
 structei], but as he advances you forget the mere construction 
 of his sentences in the splendor of his eloquence and argu- 
 ment, and the strange magnetism of his presence. He com- 
 mences a peroration — recapitulates swiftly his whole argu- 
 ment, and while he moves grandly on, the audienqe seem 
 awe-struck, and scarcely stir. At last he sits down, pale and 
 exhausted, and you awake as if from a dream. 
 
 Edward Miall, the Editor of the iVo«ra7?ybn7mi newspaper, 
 is one of the truest reformers in England. His popularity is 
 great, and yet not like that of some orators, for his oratory i?" 
 of too chaste a kind to be fully appreciated by the masses 
 The selectest circle in the world wouhl listen to him with do- 
 light. We often saw him in London, but know little of his 
 early history. He is a splendid writer, and was offered by the 
 proprietors of the Times a brilliant pay if he would furnish 
 editorial matter for its columns — matter which should be 
 agreeable to them. He replied, nobly, that no money could 
 ever tempt him to advocate wrong, or to conceal his liberal 
 opinions ! He is a rare man in London, for he is ready to 
 sacrifice money, and fame, if necessary, for the sake of his 
 principles. Many of his writings, if considered merely as 
 literary performances, are exceedingly beautiful, and his edi- 
 torials generally are characterized by great energy and spirit. 
 He is, we believe, about forty years of age, and has for a long 
 time toiled in the ranks of reform. 
 
 HENRY VINCENT. 
 
 But we must hasten from Miall to Vincent — the most ef- 
 fective out-door orator in England. George Thompson is 
 more profound ; Edward Miall is more classical, but in mighty 
 ]Miver as an orator, Henry Vincent is peerless in his native 
 land. His oratory would probably be laughed at in Parlia- 
 ment, but give to him an audience of a few thousand of the 
 
2Y0 WHAT I SAW IN LONDOK. 
 
 honest whole-souled people, and he will make them frantic 
 with his eloquence. No other man in Britain can mould 
 them as he can. We heard him for the first time when all 
 Europe was afirighted at the Revolution in France. He rose 
 before an audience of thousands — a small, red-faced man of 
 thirty-five years of age. We saw instantly one great secret 
 of his success, and it was his consummate acting. He seemed 
 to act his thoughts with his face, and often foreigners not un- 
 derstanding a word of English, but simply from gazing at his 
 spealdng face have cheered him enthusiastically. His pan- 
 tomime is indeed thrilling, and in vain we essay to describe it. 
 The night on which we first heard him, he commenced his 
 speech with great moderation, occasionally indulging in flashes 
 of wit and humor. Whenever he said anything humorous 
 his face assumed an expression which of itself would have 
 convulsed an audience with laughter. But we could see that 
 the audience seemed to be expecting some grand pitch of ex- 
 citement, some fascinating crisis. By degrees he grew more 
 fervid ; his face began to twitch with nervous agitation, and 
 it grew ruddy. He traced the power of the aristocracies of 
 the world, and of the destruction which is everywhere their 
 accompaniment. He travelled over France, Spain, Germany, 
 America, and Italy, then came back to 'England. The 
 picture was full of gloom — darkness and misfortune seemed 
 to beset the nations ; the very hall grew dim ; the faces of 
 his audience were sorrowful, while his own was the picture 
 of stern melancholy. Suddenly his face grew radiant with 
 smiles ; he pictured young Liberty in France, in Italy, and 
 America ! As he went on, he grew more and more intense 
 in his fervid eloquence. He showed us Europe as she would 
 be in the glorious time soon coming when her people shall 
 embrace Liberty I The audience poured out torrents of 
 cheers ; but now he executed his final and grand stroke of 
 eloquence. He painted in glowing colors the future of Eng- 
 
POPULAR ORATORS. 271 
 
 land. Each heart beat fast, and burned hotly, as he spoke 
 with intense enthusiasm of Eno;land in that goklen age which 
 is coming. He stopped for a moment, and, with an enthusi- 
 astic smile, uttered softly the name, " England .'" The look, 
 the manner — they were magical I Not a cheer burst forth, 
 but tears were streaming from all eyes. Every moment 
 added to the now painful intensity of the scene. Smiles and 
 tears struggled for the mastery upon the orator's face. As he 
 went on the great masses of people clustered as if insane 
 around him. We saw one man go up to him and try to stop 
 him, fearing that sudden death would be the consequence of 
 such excitement. 
 
 He stopped ; — looked round about him ; — no cheers inter- 
 rupted the strange silence. All eyes hung upon his lips ;— 
 he exercised a spell upon every heart. Soon he looked up to 
 heaven in a supplicating manner, and whispered, "England !" 
 Then louder, " England .'" And louder still, " England !" 
 
 He fell back. He was done. A noise like wind among 
 the forest trees swayed over the audience — it was not voice, 
 but sobs and tears. They stood entirely entranced. It 
 seemed as if they never would stir. At length Vincent 
 jumped again before them, and with his handkerchief waving 
 about his head, shouted, " Liberty forever !" Then the very 
 roof trembled with the shrieks of applause. Fine ladies 
 swung their handkerchiefs to and fro, and staid old merchants 
 growled forth their cheers ! 
 
 A recent writer says of Mr. Vmcent : 
 
 "It has often seemed to me as I have watched him, tower- 
 ing towards the close of a speech, that its peroration would 
 certainly be a fit of apoplexy. The last time I heard him, 
 the concluding words of his address were, ' Hallelujah ! 
 ' Hallelujah I' which he screamed out with such mad ener- 
 gy that I feared he was approaching the end of his career." 
 
 Henry Vincent was in early life apprenticed to the printer's 
 
'272 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 trade, and became a proficient in the ait of type-setting-. 
 Just as he was attaining his manhood, in the year 1827, the 
 great Chartist Agitation commenced in England, and tlie 
 young printer forsook his types for the platform, lie advo- 
 cated physical resistance to the Government — a fallacy which, 
 he has since abjui'ed — and became a doomed man. The 
 voung orator with his wonderful powers upon the platform 
 was too formidable an enemy to the Government to be patssed 
 over easily. 
 
 One evening he had been addressing an out-door audience 
 of many thousands in London, and became so excited aa to 
 utter unguarded words. He in fact spoke treason. Leaving 
 the platfoim he proceeded home, and on the threshold of his 
 mother's door was arrested by an officer. 
 
 " You are my prisoner," said the constable. 
 
 " For what act ?" asked Vincent. 
 
 " For speaking treason," was the reply, and he was marched 
 off at once to jail. The next morning he was bailed out by 
 his friends, and bound in the sum of $15,000 to appear at 
 Monmouth Jail the day previous to that appointed for his 
 trial. As soon as he was fairly, released, he again boldly 
 took the stump against the tyrannical Government. He 
 soon, however, discovered that an ingenious trap was laid for 
 him, or rather those friends who had bailed him from jail. 
 The officers of the Government got out fresh warrants for his 
 arrest for a second violation of law, which they intended to 
 execute a few days jirevious to the time he was bound to ap- 
 pear at Monmonth, and thus oblige him to forfeit his bonds. 
 But he was on the alert, and waited in London till within a 
 few hours of the time. He then hid himself in the bottom 
 of a cart loaded with straw, and which was driven by one 
 of his friends in a smock frock, and thus rode safely to jail, 
 though the team was once accosted by officers in search of 
 •aim. 
 
POPULAR ORATORS. 273 
 
 When be was carried to the Oourt-Honse for trial, the im- 
 mense multitude which surrounded him took out the horses 
 from his carriage, and themselves drew him to the scene of 
 trial. At a certain stage of the proceedings the mob broke in 
 the windows with stones, and after trying ineffectually to 
 calm the populace, the Sheriff was obliged to ask young Vin- 
 cent to address the people, and ask them to go away, which 
 he did with perfect success. He was sentenced to imprison- 
 inent for a long term of years, but was pardoned at the end 
 of two. His cell was a miserable dungeon, and he had no 
 company — nothing but grim solitude for two long years. 
 
 There was an aperture in his cell of small dimensions, but 
 closely wired over, through which occasionally came a gust 
 of fresh air. He was looking up at this one day, when he 
 saw peeping through it as sweet a face and bright a pair of 
 eyes as he ever saw in his life I It was the gaoler's daughter 
 — she pitied the eloquent young democrat, and at a great per- 
 sonal risk came to assist him. She tore away the wires be- 
 fore the aperture, and with a string let down to him a basket 
 full of delicacies. He begged for paper, pens and ink, and 
 she brought them, and they corresponded with each other, she 
 giving him the news from the great world without, he telling 
 her of his thoughts and fancies while in a dungeon. Here 
 was romance in a prison I And as long as he stayed there 
 this girl was his kind and noble friend. 
 
 At last, however, his case and condition became noised 
 abroad, and a great storm was raised, and the Government 
 began to feel it. A distinguished Peer came down to see him 
 in his dungeon. He had never been allowed even a chair, 
 and he determined to impress the fact vividly upon the Peer. 
 So when he entered he said : 
 
 "Please be seated, my lord — do be seated I" At last the 
 young orator was free. Never did man receive a heartier re- 
 ceptioa than he did from his native people. Millions crowd- 
 
274 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 ed around him, and when it was found that in the solitude of 
 his dungeon he had improved his won^derful powers of oratory, 
 and was ready to consecrate them to the cause of freedom, 
 these millions rent the air with their hurrahs. 
 
 Mr. Vincent is one of the pleasantest of companions. We 
 remember well when we sat by a winter's fire in a pleasant 
 room, listening to his interesting conversation. Few excel 
 him in hearty humor, and enthusiastic conversation. He is 
 married, and resides just out of London on Stamford Hill. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PULPIT ORATORS. 
 
 DR. MCNEILE. 
 
 Among the pulpit orators of England the Rev. Dr. ^ugh 
 McNeile of Liverpool occupies a distinguished position. He 
 is often in London — so often that his peculiarities are well 
 known to all Londoners. He has for many years been the 
 minister of St. Jude's Church, Liverpool, with a splenid sal- 
 ary, and is greatly beloved by his congregation. 
 
 His chief characteristics are a tremendous energy, strong 
 decision of character, and great enthusiasm and warmth of 
 heart, so that he is at times almost under the influence of 
 fanaticism. Yet such is the stern honesty of his character, 
 that few men in or out of Britain, possess a more attached 
 circle of friends. 
 
 He is impulsive, and although such men do sometimes err, 
 they are far more likely to be right than those who, lacking 
 any heart, never achieve great things for the cause of Right, 
 nor are ever propelled by their enthusiasm (having none,) in 
 a wrong direction. 
 
 The whole of Dr. McNeile's life has been spent at war 
 with the Catholics. He is a member of the Established 
 Church, and a& a minister of that church in Liverpool, where 
 the Catholics are exceedingly numerous, he has received 
 many provocations, and we dare say himself given some. At 
 any rate he has fought for fifteen years Avithout any respite, 
 
2V6 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 and is as ready for battle to-day as he was fifteen years ago. 
 He is fond of excitement, partly perhaps from habit, but would 
 die a martyr to his faith, readily, if the sacrifice were required. 
 In the pulpit he looks more like a son of Vulcan than a 
 minister of the Prince of Peace, and one is reminded while 
 looking at him of the celebrated Methodist Minister, Peter 
 Cartwright, of Illinois, who often left his pulpit to silence dis- 
 turbances with his brawny fists. When Dr. McNeile rises to 
 speak, you are awed by his powerful physical appearance ; he 
 is tall and stout, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, 
 while his great, sloping forehead, white as snow, contrasts 
 finely with his dark hair. His eyes are expressive of genius, 
 while his whole face has the look of a man whom all the 
 powers of Europe could not drive from a position he had 
 taken conscientiously. He speaks best extemporaneously, and 
 then when roused and excited he pours forth a torrent of fiery 
 eloquence, lashes his victim without mercy, and generally 
 carries his audience with him. While speakingj his gesticu- 
 ation is always stately and in keeping with his character, for 
 although a man of great enthusiasm, yet he always wears a 
 look of dignity. 
 
 He is a famous controversialist — in fact he has always 
 been in controversy with somebody, and scarcely a noted paper 
 in the land of Britain is there, which has not at one time or 
 another either attacked him, or published letters from his pen. 
 He is said to be a hard-working, laborious man, and his looks 
 testify to the fact. He is a great favorite with the ladies, yet 
 has little of the beau in his character. He is so intensely 
 sincere, that even his enemies respect him, while his friends 
 half worship him. 
 
 He is mainly powerful when combating Error. He has 
 none of that outbursting, loving eloquence with which the 
 celebrated Thomas Binney of Weigh House Chapel, wins 
 men from sin over to purity and peace. 
 
PULPIT ORATORS. 27V 
 
 A good anecdote Avhich occurred in his early life illustrates 
 his decision, and religious honesty of character. A rich 
 bachelor-uncle of his gave him to understand, that if he would 
 marry a young lady who was a -favorite of his, he would be- 
 queath to him a property worth over $300,000. The young 
 lady was very beautiful and attractive, but lacked what to 
 him was worth more than everything else — true piety. He 
 therefore refused to accede to his uncle's wish, married a poor 
 but worthy and pious young lady, and — lost the property. 
 
 But while he is so honest, it cannot be concealed that his 
 fervor and zeal for truth often lead him into excesses. During 
 the excitin^controversy in reference to the establishment- of a 
 Catholic hierarchy in England, he was in a state of fearful 
 agitation, and in his pulpit called for the punishment of death 
 upon those priests who administered the confessional ; but 
 when time had cooled his brain he frankly asked the pardon 
 of his audience for allowing himself to enunciate such a hor- 
 rible sentiment. The apology illustrates his character, for he 
 frankly acknowledges, when convinced that he has done 
 wrong. X 
 
 FOX.. 
 
 W. J. Fox is not now, we believe, a pulpit orator, but 
 when we first entered London a few years since he was so, 
 and we venture to give a slight sketch of him here. He is a 
 member of Parliament, and one of the finest scholars in Eng- 
 land. He has made shipwreck of his religious belief, and is 
 known even now as the " infidel-preacher." 
 
 He used to preach in a church in Finsbury Place, and his 
 sermons were, considered in a literary point of view, master 
 pieces. In person he is very short, yet fat and heavy. Hii 
 face is white, and his hair very black, while his eyes shine 
 like stars. There is a peculiar melancholy upon his face 
 which has a singular appearance. 
 
278 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 When in the pulpit he used no action while speaking, nor 
 in the House of Commons, nor at a mass-meeting of his con- 
 stituents. Yet such is the force of his chaste and stately elo- 
 quence, that few ever are glad when he has done speaking. 
 There is a fascination in his words which captivates every re- 
 fined ear. He was quite as likely, when in the pulpit, to 
 choose his text from Watts' hymns as the Bible — from Shaks- 
 peare as from Watts. His religious belief good men deplore, 
 while they admit, that personally he is a man of good morals, 
 and his chaste eloquence all lovers of pure English must ad- 
 mire. He was years ago a warm friend of William Hazlitt, 
 the republican essayist, and they sympathized with each other 
 in their peculiar religious sentiments. 
 
 He is a thorough advocate for Reform, and is a tried friend 
 of the people. No money could ever bribe him to devote his 
 brilliant talents to the cause of the aristocracy, and this should 
 make those men, who, professing stern religious principles, 
 have nevertheless betrayed the people of England, blush for 
 shame. 
 
 Mr. Fox does not often speak in Parliament, but when he 
 does speak he is listened to with flattering attention. He is 
 theoriginator of a National Education Scheme which Richard 
 Cobden is now supporting, and the object of which is to give 
 the ignorant masses a common-school education. 
 
 There are many distinguished clergymen in London whom 
 we might sketch, and yet we are inclined to think that there 
 are not now many brilliant pulpit orators in Britain. The 
 splendid Robert Hall is no more ; and Chalmers is gone, and 
 Clarke. The celebrated Melville is well known, for he has 
 imitators this side of the Atlantic ; the Hon. and the Rev. 
 Baptist W. Noel is also widely known, and is truly an im- 
 pressive pulpit orator. 
 
 The Rev. John Angell James, of Birmingham, is quite 
 often in London, and is well known throughout America by 
 
PULPIT ORATORS. 2^9 
 
 his published works. He is an impressive speaker, but is by 
 no means an orator. His style of speaking is not declama- 
 tory, but peaceful and convincing. He is devoid of fine ges- 
 ticulatory action, is indeed too inactive in the pulpit, but not- 
 withstanding that, he can hold an audience in strictest silence 
 for hours There is an indefinable charm in his sermons — 
 they are so complete, so finely illustrated, and so interesting. 
 
 The K,ev. Dr. Harris is at the head of a Collegiate Institu- 
 tion just out of London, and is widely known and distinguished 
 for his metaphj'sical powers. As a pulpit orator he ranks 
 well, but his sermons are chiefly valuable for their deep 
 thought and research. A portion of Dr. Harris' early his- 
 tory is full of thrilling interest. While residing many years 
 ago in a seaport town, he became exceedingly attached to a 
 young and beautiful widow. Her husband was a mercantile 
 gentleman, and had gone out to China on business, but the 
 vessel in which he took passage was wrecked, and every soul 
 on board lost. She went into mourning for him, and mani- 
 fested every suitable respect for his memory. She mourned 
 his death sincerely and intensely. But at length she met Dr. 
 Harris, who was struck not only with her beauty, but with 
 the loveliness of her character. She requited bis afi"ection — 
 they became engaged — and were eventually married. 
 
 A few months after the marriage, they went down one 
 morning before breakfast to the sea-side for a walk. As they 
 approached the water, they saw that a ship from some for- 
 eign port lay in the offing, and a small boat was approaching 
 them from it. As soon as it came near enough to render the 
 persons in it recognizable, the young bride fainted away. 
 She had discovered her first husband in the boat! The 
 story soon was told : he was wrecked in the China Seas, was 
 thrown upon an island, where he subsisted for some time, 
 and at length made his way to China. A long time elapsed 
 before he could come back to England — to find his wife the 
 
280 WKAT I SAW IN LONDON". 
 
 bride of another I The wretched woman only recovered from 
 her fainting fit to go raving mad, and though everything was 
 done for her which science and afiection could suggest, she 
 expired in a few weeks in great mental agony. Her death 
 was in reality a mercy, not only to her, but to the two gen- 
 tlemen whose wife she was. 
 
 Dr. Harris is a devout Christian, and a man of large thoughts 
 and liberal ideas. He is well fitted for combating infidelity 
 in all its phases. 
 
 THOMAS BINNEY. 
 
 Having sketched the portrait of Dr. McNeile, the celebra- 
 ted Episcopal pulpit orator, we will close the chapter with a 
 like sketch of the most popular dissenting minister in London 
 — the Rev. Thomas Binney. 
 
 Having heard much of his singularly effective powers of 
 oratory, we went one morning to hear him at the " Weigh 
 House Chapel," near London Bridge. The church was large 
 and commodious, and we saw that Mr. Binney at least had 
 the power of attracting large audiences. At about eleven 
 o'clock he walked up the pulpit stairs and took his seat. He 
 is one of the finest men we ever looked at, in his personal ap- 
 pearance. He is tall, and sufficiently corpulent to look dig- 
 nified and substantial. His head is a splendid one, especially 
 the forehead, which is gigantic. His eyes are beautiful black, 
 and expressive. His face is full, and his thoughts appear as 
 plainly upon it as if they were written there. His hair is 
 dark, his arms large and strong, and his whole physical ap- 
 pearance prepossessing. There Avas a peculiar look and mo- 
 tion, an odd uneasiness, which betokened eccfentricity in the 
 orator. When he arose to read a portion of Scripture, there 
 was an exceeding awkwardness in his manner. He read 
 touchingly a beautiful Psalm ; his voice was remarkably 
 sweet — at times so femininely soft, that we were surprised 
 
PULPIT ORATORS. 281 
 
 As lie read on, his face grew radiant with smiles, and before 
 he was half through, we wondered why we never before had 
 seen the exquisite beauty of the Psalm. So it is with genius 
 ever — it not only creates but discovers beauty. This pulpit 
 
 rator discovered wonderful beauties in what he read, and 
 pointed ll:em out to his hearers. Then he quietly closed the 
 volume, and said in almost a whisper, " Let us pray." It 
 was a short, opening prayer, but was full of touching fervor. 
 His face, which is at all times exceedingly expressive, now 
 looked as if heaven were dawning upon it. Now sunny and 
 summery as a morning of June, and then suddenly changing 
 to gloom and sorrowfulness. Now expressive of a childlike 
 faith, and again bursting into the daring of a man's trust. 
 Now quivering with pathos, with tears beaded on his eyelids, 
 then siidderily bursting into a holy smile — it was slrange. 
 The audience was hushed as the grave ; not a cough, not a 
 loud breath disturbed the s.lence, until the prayer was ended, 
 when there was a storm of coughing and clearing of throats. 
 At last — after the singing — the preacher arose, shrugged his 
 shoulders, and with many awkward movements, commenced 
 his sermon. There was something of drollery in his first few 
 sentences, both in sentiment and expression, but it was clearly 
 not affected. So on he went, preaching a good sermon, using 
 fine language, but we M'ere not entranced or stirred up by his 
 eloquence. We were concluding that we were disappointed, 
 and buttoning up our coat ready for returning home, thinking 
 the service near its end, when without the slightest premo- 
 nition, the reverend orator burst into one of the most brilliant, 
 thrilling, burning perorations we ever heard. His face 
 beamed with a holy light ; his words gushed forth fountain- 
 like, brilliant, striking, and beautil'ul. At first his eloquence 
 was almost agonizing ; it was so fervid, so tremendous in its 
 effects. The power of his oratory was vast, and it swept 
 over his audience like a tornado. We were taken by sur- 
 
282 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 prise — it came upon us like a storm of lightning and thunder ; 
 but soon there was a clearing off, and the sun came out clear 
 and calm, and gloriously beautiful. At first his face and 
 manner had been dark and repulsive, but now tears dropped 
 from his eyes, and gems of beauty and sweetness from his lips, 
 and his audience, though used to him, leaned forward and 
 wept like children. 
 
 Mr. Binney was born at New-Castle-upon-Tyne, and was 
 first settled at Newport, in the Isle of Wight, but afterwards 
 removed to the Weigh House Chapel, in London. A few 
 years ago he lost his wife by death, and for a long time after, 
 his health was miserable from melancholy. During this time 
 he visited America, resuscitated his drooping health and 
 spirits, married a second time, and is now the most popular 
 pulpit orator in London. In conversation he is agreeable ; 
 though when we saw him he was bitter in some of his refer- 
 ences to America, principally because of her " temperance 
 bigotry," and her " pro-slavery opinions." The reason of the 
 former remark is, that Mr. Binney, though an excellent man, 
 is fond of his wine ! 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 We know that this is a trite subject — "Westminster Abbey ! 
 HoAV many pens have written in its praise, and how many 
 are destined yet to write I But it is a subject that will never 
 grow old, however much written uj)on — the grand burial- 
 place of England's kings, and warriors, and poets I For 
 royalty, and especially dead and buried royalty, we have 
 little admiration, and we confess it ; for warriors unless they 
 fought for freedom and right, we have also little respect. 
 But for the poets of our motherland ; for Shakspearo, for 
 Milton, for Chaucer and Spenser, for " rare Ben Jonson" 
 and Cowley, and many others, we do indulge an admiration 
 which we render to few other names. And then there are 
 great statesmen, side by side in the Abbey^ — Fox and Sheridan, 
 Pitt, and Chatham, and Canning I What heart ever was in 
 the great and solemn aisles of the Abbey, in sight of the Earl 
 of Chatham's tomb, and did not quiver with a solemn delight ? 
 What American ever stood there without thinking how once 
 he stood up in the House of Lords — only a few rods distant 
 — and poured forth his thrilling eloquence in defence of our 
 native land, without remembering his " You cannot conquer 
 America .'" spoken prophetically in the ears of the mad 
 dotards assembled ? 
 
 As a piece of architecture the Abbey is magnificent and 
 beautiful. It is built in the form of a Cross, and its length 
 
284 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 from east to west is over four hundred feet — from north to 
 south two hundred. The towers, which rise gracefully on its 
 west end, are each two hundred and twenty-five feet in height. 
 To look at it from the adjoining park through the leaves of 
 the trees, is an exquisite sight, and more than once have we, 
 in summer days, stood in the shade of some beautiful tree, and 
 gazing at the noble and aged structure, indulged in delicious 
 thoughts of its age, and the kings who built it, and then de- 
 molished it, and again rebuilt it in its present form. We have 
 thought too of the names engraved on marble there ; the great 
 kings who commanded armies, and whose voices made millions 
 tremble ; of the thousands who fought and bled for liberty, 
 and others still who fought against freedom for the sake of 
 honor and the smiles of a sovereign ; of the brave statesmen 
 who lived 
 
 " In the brave days of old," 
 
 and wrestled valiantly, some for country and home and liberty, 
 and others, who, to build up themselves, brought misery upon 
 the nation — like Pitt, the younger, whose brilliance we all 
 admire, but whose statesmanship is now visible in the awful 
 debt which hangs about the neck of England. And then 
 there were, last but not least, the glorious constellation of 
 poets, in " the Poets' Corner I" There was something grand 
 too, while gazing at the Abbey, in the thought that when 
 America was one wild wilderness, this structure was here as 
 it is now ; the very, bleak day on which the Pilgrim Fathers 
 
 " Moored their bark 
 On the wild New England shore," 
 
 there were people who stood inside the walls of Westminster 
 Abbey, and pondered over this wonderful age I For the7i a 
 thousand years had rolled away since Lucius, the first king 
 of Britain, erected a chapel on the spot, which was the 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBET. 285 
 
 beginning of the present splendid structure. Then, as now, 
 pilgrims fVom afar knelt at its altars, and said in their hearts 
 — " How many ages have come and gone, since upon this 
 spot, for the first time, Christian prayers were said. How 
 many generations have lived and died, and yet we behold it 
 with our eyes — it lives yet !" 
 
 And since then have generations appeared upon the face 
 of the earth, and passed away to make room for succeeding 
 ones, which have likewise gone down silently into the grave. 
 It seems as if that structure were unlike anything else in the 
 world. Time it laughs at, and like mother earth it grows 
 beautiful with age I 
 
 We started one afternoon with an English friend to visit 
 the House of Commons, armed with member's orders, but 
 owing to an exciting discussion, found the gallery full, and 
 we could not be admitted. Seeing that it was impossible to 
 hear the debate, our friend said — 
 
 " Let us go and see the Abbey — this beautiful western sun 
 will throw enchantment over the marbles of the great, there !" 
 
 We entered by a northern transept, and were almost trans- 
 fixed by the wondrous vision which burst upon our sight. 
 The great and solemn aisles, the lofty arches and ceilings 
 were gilded with the colors of the rainbow, for the sun poured 
 a flood of light into the great windows on the western side of 
 the Abbey, and they were painted in every color, and in every 
 form that artistic skill could invent. 
 
 " Let us go to the Poets' Corner I" That is the spot where 
 people always go first. Kings and warriors — they are forgotten 
 where a Shakspeare lies. And the first monument which we 
 gazed at was Shakspeare's ! How often had we longed for 
 this moment of exquisite enjoyment, for though the ashes of 
 the poet were never disturbed from their quiet slumber on the 
 side of the gentle Avon, yet in the very &pot where we stood, 
 once stood the great dramatist— the prince of poets. And 
 
286 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Pope stood there when they asked him if he would write an 
 epitaph for the monument, and he answered — 
 
 " No — I cannot write it. / cannot praise Shakspeare ' 
 Take his own lines." 
 
 And there before us we read the epitaph which his own 
 fingers wrote — those lines which often have thrilled the world, 
 
 " The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself. 
 Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve, 
 And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 Leave not a wreck behind." 
 
 True, oh I wondrous poet- — but until " the great globe itsel^ 
 shall dissolve," thy name shall live and be glorified. Well 
 did Ben Jonson write of Shakspeare : 
 
 " Thou art a monument, without a tomb ; 
 And art alive still, while thy book doth live, 
 And we have wits to read, and praise to give." 
 
 Every year a " Shakspeare Festival" is given by the pro- 
 fessed friends of the poet at Stratford-on-Avon ; every day 
 some pilgrim from afar, comes to write his name on the walls 
 of the old house in which he lived with his gentle Anne 
 Hathaway. But there are no precious relics of him for the 
 antiquarian to hoard up for future .generations, yet there is a 
 way in which the world can show its respect and admiration 
 of the great dramatist, better than by weeping over his monu- 
 ment, or eating dinners to his memory. There is a descendant 
 of the family living in poverty at Stratford. It is a boy, and 
 he is so like the poet in his physical features, that William 
 Howitt picked him out from all his school-fellows as the 
 descendant of the dramatist. His name is " Bill Sha/cspeare,'" 
 and, said Mr. Howitt to us one day, " It sounded strange to me 
 to hear the boys calling out, " Hallo ! Bill Sliak^peare '" to a 
 
WESTMINSTlili ABBEY. 287 
 
 ragged urchin, whose face and brow were wonderfully like 
 those of the groat poet's I" 
 
 If the English nobles and literary lions, instead of making 
 such a parade at Stratford every year, would give " Bill 
 Sliakspeare" a fine education, and a fair chance to developo 
 what genius he may have inherited, it would, so it seems to 
 us, better show their love for the immortal Shakspeare. It 
 was a long time before the old house, which was once the 
 poet's home, was bought and paid for, but through the severe 
 exertions of several noted literary gentlemen the valuable 
 relic has been secured to the lovers of poetry. 
 
 Not far from Shakspeare's moimment there is another, that 
 of Shakspeare's best friend. The epitaph is Shakspeare's — 
 
 " RARE Ben Jonson !' 
 
 He was Shakspeare's intimate companion, joked with him 
 many a time over a cup of wine, and was, while Shakspeare 
 lived, jealous of his wonderful fame. But when he had 
 dropped tears over his new-made grave at Stratford, on the 
 river Avon, in his mournfulness he sung — 
 
 " Sweet swan of Avon ! what a sight it were 
 To see thee in our waters yet appear ! 
 But stay ! I see thee in the hemisphere 
 Advanced, and made a constellation there : 
 Shine forth, thou Star of Poets !" 
 
 Now, one half of Ben Jonson's fame consists in. his asso- 
 ciation with Shakspeare, and his praise of him when others 
 were asleep to liis merits. The two monuments are not far 
 apart, and it is well that such " hale friends" should not be 
 parted in death I 
 
 As the sun went down among the trees west of the Abbey, 
 and the steeples and towers, the light becanle solemn and 
 chaster upon the graves of the poets, and our hearts grew 
 
288 WHAT I SAW INT LONDON. 
 
 sadder too. Passing on a little, we came in sight of Milton's 
 monument — the grave of the splendid and brilliant Milton ; 
 the poet, the chaste prose-writer, and the fearless republican 
 and democrat ! Here now, like a king in state, he lies, the 
 blind poet, while the king whose jackals persecuted him, 
 sleeps alone, with no tears ever moistening the marble above 
 his bones. Here lies he now, the author of " Paradise Lost," 
 in g'ory on earth, and glorious, we may believe, in heaven. 
 Ho could afford to suffer while hero for such an inheritance. 
 The " five pounds sterling," paid in three instalments, which 
 he got for his poem, was not all — the fame and love of the 
 world to its final annihilation was his also ! He died poor, 
 like too many of earth's brightest sons of Genius, and left 
 three daughters for the English nation to cherish — alas ! for 
 the fate of poets' daughters in this world ! 
 
 Not far off from Milton's tablet sleeps the first, the earliest 
 poet of England — Geoffrey Chaucer. He died over four hun- 
 dred years ago. His monument was once a beautiful Gothic 
 one, but Time has made sad inroads into its beauty, and the 
 inscription upon it is fast being effaced. Close at hand is the 
 grave of Butler, the author of Hudibras, whom the English 
 nation left to starve* and when he was starved, made him a 
 grave by the side of kings ! A Lord Mayor of London erect- 
 ed his tombstone, and gives his reasons for so doing upon the 
 marble in the following expressive words : 
 
 " That he icho ivas destitute of all things when olivet 
 might not ivant a monument ivhen deadP 
 
 Near to Milton's tomb is the tablet erected in memory of 
 Gray, and upon it is this inscription : 
 
 " No more the Grecian Muse unrivalled reigns, 
 
 To Britain let the nations homage pay ; 
 'She felt a Homer's fire in Milton's strains, 
 
 A Pindar's rapture in the lyre of Gray." 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 289 
 
 We looked everywhere to ste Byron's grave — but looked in 
 vain. Then we remembered how Macaulay says in his fine 
 ej-say on the proud, sad poet, that the tears came to the eyes 
 ol' the nation Avhen tliey saw the corpse of the great poet go 
 ixist Westminster Abbey. He should have his niche in the 
 Poets' Corner I It reminded us of Cliatterton's fate. Some 
 admirer of his genius had erected in beautiful E,edcliffe 
 Church in ISristol — the church in which he used to wander 
 "when young, and where he forged the Rowley poems — a 
 slight riionument to his memory, but a few yeai-s ago the peo- 
 ple of Bristol, who attended the chui-ch, upon " second, sober 
 thought," which told them he was a suicide, deliberately tore 
 down the monuvient, to their disgrace in the eyes of the civil- 
 ized world. 
 
 Below Butler's monument, " Faery Q,ueene" Spenser sleeps, , 
 and the inscription on his tombstone is a beautiful one — it is 
 as follows : . 
 
 "Here lies (expecting the second coming of our Saviour 
 Jesus Christ) the body of Edmund Spenser, the Prince of 
 Poets in his time, whose divine spirit needs no other witness 
 than the works which he has left behind him. He was born 
 in London 1553, and died in 1598." 
 
 He has been dead two and a half centuries, and yet his 
 genius shines brighter than it did on the day of his death I 
 
 Tliere was one epitaph in the Poets' Corner which shocked 
 us, as it does everybody, — it is on the tomb of John Gay, and 
 was written by himself It is as follows : 
 
 ■' Life i.s a jest, and all things show it: 
 I thought so once, and now I know it " 
 
 Not far from this shocking epitaph is the grave of the au- 
 thor of " The Seasons" — James Thomson. And at one side 
 
 M 1., 
 
290 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 is a name on a pretty marble tablet, over which we bent in 
 sweet solitude — ^that of Goldsmith. 
 
 Joseph Addison has a fine statue, and engraved upon it are 
 .he words — 
 
 " Venerate the memory of Joseph Addison " 
 
 Isaac Ballou — the chaplain of Charles II. — the poet, lies 
 close at hand, and there are many who stop before his monu- 
 ment. And here is the grave of Granville Sharp, whom all 
 good men love and will love as long as the world lasts. 
 
 Perhaps one of the finest monuments in the whole collec- 
 tion is that of Handel's. It was the last that Eoubiliac ever 
 executed. An angel is playing on a harp in the clouds above, 
 and the statue is gazing up at the melody as if entranced. 
 Before it lies open the Messiah, at the page which commen- 
 ces the solemn and sublime air, " / know that my Redeemer 
 livethy The only additionsfl inscription is this : 
 
 " George Frederick Handel, Esq.. born Feb. 23, 1684 ; 
 died April 14, 1769.' 
 
 Some distance from this we saw-^ 
 
 " To THE MEMORY OF DaVID GaRRICK," 
 
 the great tragedian, a fine tablet. 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton has a splendid monument, and upon it 
 . is this inscription . 
 
 " Mortals have reason to exult in the existence of so noble 
 an orjiament to the human race." 
 
 How very true ! When such a man exists, the tvorld 
 ought to be proud of him. The country which gave him 
 birth need not alone selfishly boast of his greatness, for all 
 lations share in it. 
 
WKSTMINSTKIi ABBEY. 291 
 
 And now we come to the little cluster of statesmen of tht 
 past century. Witliiu a tew ieet of each other lie six of the 
 greatest men tlie world has ever set;n — the Earl of Chatham, 
 William Pitt, Charles James Fox, Grattan, Canning, and 
 Sheridan ! We could stand with one foot on the grave of 
 Pitt and the other on that of Fox, and yet in their lives what 
 wondrous enemies ! How year after year did each devote his 
 mighty talents for the overthrow of the other — and here jiow 
 they lie side brj side ! As we stood over the grave of Pitt, 
 we thought of him in his manly prime, with his dark eyes 
 flashing fire, and his black hair contrasting splendidly with 
 the marble of his brow. How he fought and struggled and 
 squandered the people's money for the sake of greatness ! 
 Ah ! he was in the cabinet too much like Napoleon in the 
 field — too ready to sacrifice the people to his ambition. And 
 Charles James Fox whom he feared, lies close at his side! 
 And Sheridajj^ too is there — that mighty genius who could 
 hold a nation in tears and laughter at his splendid strokes of 
 oratory ; whose wit was quick as the lightning, and yet never 
 rankled and stung because of his nobleness of character ; the 
 man who, though godlike in frame and spirit, yet debased him- 
 self to a level with the brutes, and fell into a drunkard's grave. 
 
 And Canning : the statesman who died of a broken heart. 
 His most intimate friends assert that his death was occasioned 
 by the terrible attacks made on him by those whom he once 
 loved. Whatever his faults of statesmanship were, he was a 
 splendid man and a genius. What a thrilling time was that, 
 when Brougham in Parliament made his renowned attack on 
 Canning, which called the great statesman to his feet with 
 the hot cry — 
 
 " It is false I" 
 
 Not long after these terrible attacks he died, and now he 
 sleeps within the solemn walls of the Abbey — and "sleeps 
 well." 
 
292 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Over the great Earl of Chatham's grave we bent with 
 pride and a feehng of gratefulness, for he was once America's 
 advocate against a hand of oppressors. We thought, while 
 we stood there, of the time when he came, as it were in his 
 winding-sheet into the House of Lords, to expostulate with 
 them on the mad course pursued by theiri towards their col- 
 onies in the New World, and during his noble speech fell 
 back into the arms of his attendant a dying man I America, 
 at the time of her Revolution, had many attached friends in 
 England, who at heart, if not openly, applauded her spirit of 
 independence. There were men who dared to defend Amer- 
 ica in public, and the masses of the j)C02jle sympathized with 
 us during our struggle. We should remember this when we 
 are inclined to indulge in sentiments of hate towards England 
 because of her war against America. 
 
 Among the monuments to warriors in the Abbey, there was 
 one over which we bent in sadness, and it was that of John 
 Andre. George III. erected, the monument, and it is a fine one. 
 The inscription tells of his unfortunate death in America, and 
 a scroll which he holds in his left hand contains Andre's let- 
 ter to Washington, begging the privilege of being shot instead 
 of hung. Still we did not forget Nathan Hale, when over 
 the grave of Andre. 
 
 We have said nothing of the royal tombs in Westminster 
 Abbey, feeling but little interest in them, and concluding that 
 the reader will readily pardon us for the omission. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MEN AND THINGS. 
 SPENCER T. HALL. 
 
 Mr. Hall owes his fame this side of the Atlantic, princi- 
 pally to his success in the science of mesmerism — it is not 
 genei-ally known that he has achieved a moderate reputation 
 in England, for verse-writing. We saw him first at the 
 bookstore of a mutual friend, and were struck with his physi- 
 ognomy, at once. He is rather tall than otherwise, with a 
 fresh countenance. His forehead is capacious almost to de- 
 f >rmity, in the region of the perceptive organs. His hair is 
 of a light auburn, and his eyes of a hazel that sometimes, 
 Avhen illumined, you cannot distinguish from black. His nose 
 has a twist to one side, which, though slight, mars the ap- 
 pearance of his face. 
 
 He was born Dec. 16th, 1812, in a little thatched cottage 
 on the banks of a rivulet near the village of Sutton, in Ash- 
 field. This country village lies only a mile from the celebra- 
 ted Robin Hood hills, in Sherwood Forest. This forest origi- 
 nally comprised 90,000 acres of land, covered with old oak 
 woods, tinkling streams, and high hills, and low valleys. . At 
 the time of his bii'th, about one third of it had been enclosed, 
 and brought under the subjection of the plough — the remain- 
 ing two thirds being open to the hunter and shepherd. Born 
 with a great love for nature, here was the finest opportunity 
 
294 WHAT I SAAV IN LONDON. 
 
 to gratify and cultivate that love, and the boy spent many 
 days here when, released from the toil of the mauufoctory at 
 Ashfield. His ancestors, on his father's side, vi^ere foresters — ■ 
 his mother was a shepherdess and dairy-maid when young, 
 among the mountains of Derbyshire. His parents were 
 Friends, and their teachings are apparent in Mr. Hall's in- 
 tegrity and love of the, gentler attributes of humanity. His 
 father was a poor shoemaker, and cuuld ill afford to send him 
 to school. Yet he was determined that Spencer should know 
 how to read, and so he posted up conspicuously in his work- 
 shop the letters of the alphabet, and while at work taught his 
 boy their different powers. When he was seven years old, 
 he went at work in the manufactory at Ashfield, his employ- 
 ment being to wind cotton for the stocking-makers. At 
 eleven he made stockings himself, and did the full work of a 
 man. In one of his volumes he has described the first devel- 
 opments of poetry in his mind. He says : — 
 
 " The first deep poetical impression I recollect receiving, 
 was when so young that my father was carrying me in his 
 arms. It was from seeing the fields all covered with white, 
 and in a breezeless morning, the snow falling slowly and sol- 
 emnly, flake by flake, from a calm dim sky upon them. This 
 was the early awakening of my mind to the sublimity of sim- 
 ple and common nature, which, because it is simple and com- 
 mon, we so little perceive and enjoy. I once received another 
 impression akin to this, but from difierent causes. It was one 
 bright February morning, when I was seven or eight years 
 old, in a lane at FulM'^ood, about a mile from Sutton. The 
 whole landscape was sparkling Avith gems of frozen dew — not 
 hoar-frost, but that bright powdery scattering which is next 
 akin to it. A little cluster of rustic cottages was sending up 
 light curling smoke-wreaths just by, and a gi'een holly-bush, 
 the only green object to be seen, was sweetly glowing at a 
 bend of the lane beyond them, making me feel as if by step- 
 
MEN AJTD THINGS. 295 
 
 ping as far, I should be all that nearer to the coming spring. 
 Well, it is a very wide landscape that spreads away from that 
 spot, cut into diamonds by hedge-rows, and dotted with cot- 
 tages, farms, churches, villages, corn-stacks, windmills, villas, 
 and all the other indications of quiet rural life, up to where 
 the North Peak of Derbyshire brings its blue hills in a semi- 
 circle, and hems in the prospect. All this, in the sunshine, 
 was very delicious ; and quietly pondering over it, the love 
 of rural beauty bewitched my heart, almost like the sweet 
 and silent joy of the love of a young maiden. The bowery 
 and streamy haunts, too, of Brookhill, which I often lingered 
 at and looked into, but could not then enter, would feed my 
 childish soul with wonder and gladness — and such, with' me, 
 was the beginning of poetry." 
 
 His neigirbors were kind, and lent him books, and gradually 
 he grew from a weak boy into a strong-minded, yet very mod- 
 est young man. When he was fifteen, a kind neighbor lent 
 him the life and works of Dr. Franklin. He studied them 
 closely, read and re-read them, ajid became restless. It was 
 the restlessness of genius. He could not remain contented, a 
 simple, lowly, stocking-weaver ; so one morning, just after his 
 sixteenth birth-day, he packed up his few books, an extra 
 shirt, and a single pair of stockings, and ran away. All the 
 money that he possessed in the world was 13 pence, or 26 
 cents. The village evening lights were burning, as he es- 
 caped — on he trudged till ten o'clock, and then for a little 
 supper and a bed, he paid his 13 pfence. The next day was 
 a cold one, and he subsisted on a fi'ozen turnip, and slept at 
 night upon the cold floor of a workshop. The following 
 morning he arrived at Nottingham, went to the office of one 
 of the principal papers, oflered himself as an apprentice to the 
 printer's trade, and was accepted. During the first year he 
 worked hard, and lived upon the coarsest food, and in his 
 leisure hours he studied incessantly. At the commencement 
 
296 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON', 
 
 of the second, his employer took him into his own house, and 
 iiiade liira his confidential assistant. About this time, he 
 accidentally met a volume of Bloomfield's Poems, and to him 
 they opened a world of beauty and pleasure. His first poem 
 was a description of Clifton Grove, the favorite haunt of Henry 
 Kirke White. In his eighteenth year he had acquired quite 
 a reputation in Nottingham, and was styled " the young 
 Quaker of the Mercury office!'" He was favored with the 
 society of William Howitt, who was at this time an Alder- 
 man in Nottingham, and Robert Witter, the poet, and other 
 distinguished characters. When twenty year's of age, he be- 
 came a contributor to the Mirror and Metrojjolitan Maga- 
 zine, and was fast acquiring a reputation. When his ap- 
 prenticeship had expii'ed, he took charge-of a large printing 
 establishment in York, and published a small volume of poetry 
 entitled " The Forester's Offering." Pi-evious to this he 
 had often been called " The Sherwood Forester y His 
 poetry is quiet and soothing, and he never attempts the im- 
 petuous or grand. It is simplicity itself, yet none the less 
 pleasing. Here are a few of his A'^erses, descriptive of his boy- 
 hood and parents : 
 
 " Oft, too, would they describe my country's ports, 
 
 Crowded witli gallant ships from every clime — 
 Her smiling palaces, and frowning forts — 
 
 Whate'er of her was beauteous or sublime, 
 
 The fruit of modern taste, or ancient time 
 From domes remote, that through dark woodlands rise. 
 
 To cities crowned with spires that proudly climb 
 And flash the sunlight back through summer skies — 
 Until my young soul swelled with gladness and surprise. 
 
 And much I wished, as in my mind would grow 
 
 A .sense of Britain's grandeur and her might, 
 That in her sous a warm desire might glow 
 
 To use their matchless strength and skill aright. 
 
 And in the ways of love and truth delight : 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 29*7 
 
 For oh, an early consciousness was mine 
 
 That power misguided operates but to blight 
 All that is glorious, beautiful, benign. 
 And glooms with woe a world which else in bliss might shine ! 
 
 And not for love alone of song or story, 
 
 Or youth's delicious dream, or childhood's glee, 
 But of the simpler, yet sublimer glory 
 
 Of Truth's pure teachings, here first known to me, 
 
 Grows glad my soul, dear native cot, in thee ; 
 And thought and feeling in deep reverence bend, 
 
 Whilst now I bare my head and bow my knee / 
 
 To Him from whom all truth and light extend — 
 Whose throne is in the heart, whose kingdom has no end !" 
 
 And how beautiful is this description of his story-telling 
 'ould niither" — 
 
 " The birds on Bonsall Leas' sang in thy song ; 
 
 The flowers of Wirksworth Moor bloomed in thy tale ; 
 In thy descriptions, crags o'er Derwent hang 
 
 In awe to hear it roar through Matlock Dale ; — 
 
 Plain, at thy word, I saw the clouds all pale 
 Roll silent o'er gray Barrowledge's side ; 
 
 And, ! how well in mystery could'st thou veil 
 Those deeds of other times that dimly hide 
 Where ancient woods frown down from Dunsley's lofty side !" 
 
 When his first volume was published, Leigh Hunt wrote a 
 flattering letter to him, and Montgomery told him that he 
 read the whole at one sitting, so pleased was he with its con- 
 tents. He now was appointed to the vacant Governorship 
 of Hallis Hospital, a philanthropic and educational institution 
 of York. While here he published a volume of prose, which 
 met with a kind reception from the public. 
 
 And now it was that he turned his attention to the science 
 of mesmerism. He soon wrought astonishing experiments, 
 and all Britain was alive with excitement. He was suddenly 
 famous. Harriet Martineau, the writer, who had been con- 
 
 . .M* 
 
298 . WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 fined three years to her rooi.i hy sickness, was entirely cured 
 by Mr. Hall, through the soothing powers of mesmerism. He 
 went through all the great cities, and thousands came to see 
 and hear him as a wonder. He shrunk from such promi- 
 nency, but there was no retreat for him. At his private con- 
 versaziones, such men as Liebig and Combe sat at his feet as 
 pupils. Of course many opposed him, and some even went 
 so far as to throw odium upon his character, in connection 
 with his cure of Miss Martineau. This grieved his pure but 
 sensitive heart. In 1846, his health failed him, and he was 
 obliged to relinquish his mesmeric lectures. He accepted the 
 high post of Secretary to the British Anti-Capital-Punishment 
 Society, for a year, at the end of which, his health being re- 
 stored, he returned to his favorite science. His present posi- 
 tion is an agreeable one. He never claimed to be a great 
 poet, nor is he one. But he has written good poetry and 
 prose, and his stern energy is an. example to the young. 
 
 MR. MUNTZ. 
 
 Among the celebrated men of London, during the session of 
 Parliament, we may safely reckon Mr. G. F. Muntz, who sits 
 for Birmingham. 
 
 He is not a man of grea.t intellect by any means, but he is 
 a man of extraordinary decision of character, of great energy 
 and undoubted honesty He always acts in a straightforward 
 manner — there is little of the mei'e politician in his character ; 
 he is too much of a man for that. 
 
 As a speaker he is not eloquent, but he has an earnestness 
 that makes every one feel that he knoivs Avhat he is saying is 
 true, and such oratory is often more convincing than what is 
 usually called eloquence. He never makes long speeches, but 
 says what he has to say in a short space of time. It is said, 
 that in Birmingham before a mass-meeting of his constituents, 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 293 
 
 he is less Drief and more eloquent ; we can believe it, for 
 Parliameni; has a strange power in cooling the eloquence of 
 the mere orator. Many a powerful out-door speaker has 
 gone to sit there, and scarcely ever opened his mouth, and 
 even then to speak soberly and mathematically. It would be 
 well if our Congress were to imitate Parliament in this re- 
 spect. As if to guard against a desire to make showy 
 speeches, no women are allowed to enter the House or Gal- 
 lery while it is sitting. 
 
 Mr. Muntz is quiet in the tone of his voice and in gesture, 
 and sits alone as if he had no friends, and (as is the fact) was 
 of no party. In personal appearance he is the most singular 
 man whom we ever saw. We saw him first in the street. 
 We saw a man apparently about fifty years of age, walking 
 slowly and with heavy steps along the pavement. He was 
 about the middle height, and possessed a beard of astonishing 
 proportions. It was jet black and completely covered the 
 lower portion of his face. He is renowned for this beard. 
 It is thick and long, and bushy, and as he never has it combed 
 or trimmed, it gives him the wildness of a demi-savage. 
 
 He has a fine forehead and brilliant eyes, but his terrible 
 beard completely spoils his personal appearance. It has been 
 the laugh of England for years, but he is fonder of it than 
 ever. This is perhaps not in the least strange. There are a 
 good many people in this world who will not be laughed out 
 of a thing. 
 
 He is very strangely built, and is physically a powerful 
 man. His face is rather sallow in complexion, and its gen- 
 eral expression is one of reserve and sometimes of sadness. In 
 his dress he is peculiar. His pantaloons arc generally con- 
 structed of coarse material, and are broad and flowing, and' 
 in England, where everybody wears pantaloons tight to the 
 skin, they have a singular appearance. He usually walks 
 with a cane, and attracts great attention. 
 
300 WHAT I SAW IN I.ONDOX. 
 
 It is said that upon his first appearance in the House of 
 Commons, many years ago, he excited more general interest 
 than any other new member for a long time previous. He is 
 much esteemed in Birmingham by all classes, and deserves to 
 be, for he is an honest man, which Pope says, is the " noblest 
 work of God." He is neither of the Joseph Sturge Universal 
 Suffrage party, nor exactly a Chartist, but liolds a number of 
 democratical opinions, which in England subject him to a 
 good deal of odium. 
 
 There is not such another country in the woi'ld whei-e so- 
 ciety and fashion sneer at radicalism as they do m England. 
 In France you may suffer pains and penalties for your ultra- 
 isms, as they are called, but the voice of fashion and society 
 is not so bitterly against you. You can reckon a host of dis- ■ 
 tinguished members of society who hold your opinions, and 
 though Government pei'secutes you, Society will not. But 
 in England it is otherwise ; Government will not touch you. 
 but in Society you are handled as if something terribly vul- 
 gar and unnatural. Hardly a poet of renown in England 
 avows himself anywhere in favor of liberty in the simple 
 matter ot' universal suffrage. Not an author or artist of re- 
 nown dares acknowledge himself a Chartist. Radicalism has a 
 taiut for all perfumed gentlemen. It is vulgar to help the pooi 
 unless you do it in certain prescribed and fashionable modes. 
 To avow yourself the friend of the dirty and ragged millions of 
 England, is to lose your place among gentlemen of fashion ; 
 in fact it hurts you worse than to be guilty of almost any kind 
 of genteel crime. 
 
 The women even look coldly upon you. It is a sad sight 
 to see a icoman without a heart throbbing with sympathy 
 for the suffering of the earth. She is not a woman who is 
 entirely bereft of such sympathies, but is a mere fashionable 
 plaything, a refined courtesan, and has no right to call herself 
 by that holiest of all earthly names — woman/ Gentleness, 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 301 
 
 pity, nobility ot" heart, are all wanting ; and where these are 
 wanting in one of the sex, who would give anything for what 
 
 SIR PETER LAURIE. 
 
 Sir Peter Laurie has been for many years almost a.Jixtiire 
 in the city (-iovernment of London. To not know him and 
 live within forty miles of London were about" as great a sin 
 of ignorance as not to know soixiething of the antics of Lord 
 Brougham in the House of Lords. 
 
 He has been an alderman for more than twenty years, is, 
 we believe, a bachelor, has been Lord Mayor, and is one of 
 the best-humored rnen-in London. He is exceedingly popular 
 as a man and officer, notwithstanding he is a Tory in politics. 
 One great reason why he is so popular, is because he is so in- 
 veterately fond of a joke. While Lord Mayor he constantly 
 indulged in his passion for fun, even when on the bench, in 
 his official capacity, and he has such a merry, rubicund face, 
 that no one can possibly resist his jokes. Like very many 
 distinguished men in London he is by birth a Scotchman, but 
 Avhat is a little stranger than that, he was once a saddler. He 
 worked as a journeyman saddler once, somewhere near Char- 
 ing Cross, with a young man who afterwards becantie Sir 
 Richard Birnie. By unwearied industry as a contractor for 
 military stores for the Government and Lidia, Mr. Laurie 
 amassed a large fortune, became known to his fellow-citizens, 
 was elected alderman, and subsequently Lord Mayor, and was 
 knighted at the hands of E-oyalty. He was during the days 
 of the Reform Bill a liberal, but afterwards became a Tory. 
 This change is a stain upon his public character, for it had a 
 bad look — as if he deserted the people who had raised him to 
 honor and fame, as soon as the aristocracy got for him the 
 honor of knighthood. 
 
 But notwithstanding this defect in his life, he is a popular 
 
302 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 character ; more perhaps from his great good-nature and wit- 
 ticisms than any statesmanlike dignity of character. His wit 
 is not at all like Benjamin D' Israeli's — the black-eyed member 
 for Buckinghamshire has no joviality in his wit. It cuts like 
 the frost of a winter niorinng, in Canada, and when he utters 
 his witticisms his eyes do smile, but in the smile there is a 
 look of savage triumph I 
 
 Not so is it with Sir Peter, for his wit never hurts. It is 
 good-humored and only meant for pleasure. He has not ia 
 fact any of the exquisite intellect of D'Israeli, and could not, 
 were he to try, cut like him. He is too much of an alderman, 
 and loves mock-turtle too well. 
 
 He is renowned for his examination of prisoners, always 
 contriving to ferret out their inmost secrets. In this respect 
 he is the equal of any criminal lawyer in London. He is 
 never quiet, in court or out of it, but is constantly moving. 
 He will jump from his seat, fold his hands upon his breast, 
 then sit down, get up again and walk, rest his head upon his 
 hand, ask questions hurriedly and yet acutely, and the stran- 
 ger will conclude that he never sleeps, at least not for an hour 
 at a time. His face ever has a smile on it, so that you are 
 constantly on the lookout for a joke, and old as he is, his joc- 
 ularity becomes him admirably. In religion he is a member 
 of the Church of England, but is no bigot. 
 
 In person he is aldermanic — about the middle height, pretty 
 well conditioned, (was there ever alderman who was not ?) 
 has a fine, large, open brow, an humorous countenance, and 
 on the whole looks finely in his mellow old age. 
 
 He is past sixty years of age, but that is not astonishing in 
 a place where the Duke of Wellington, aged 82, rides about 
 on horseback, hale and hearty ; and Lords Brougham, Lynd- 
 hurst, Denman, Campbell, the Marquis of Lansdowne, and 
 Joseph Hume, :i,re active as at any period of their lives, and 
 yet range from 70 to 80 in years. By a sort of universal 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 303 
 
 consent Sir Peter Laurie is a favorite ; his faults are over- 
 looked because of his goodness of heart. We have portrayed 
 him to the American reader as a type of a certain class of 
 Englislimen. He is a noted man in London, though little 
 known in Amei'ica, and indeed could not be — still though he 
 is a lion of no great pretensions, we hope to be excused for 
 attempting his portrait in our humble work. 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 The Temperance Eeform moves slowly in England, from 
 the fact that the English are eminently a social peopla, and 
 their drinking customs are almost inseparably connected in 
 the general mind with their sociality. Many, very many 
 estimable people esteem the wine-cup as a part of their 
 hospitality, and we know of several families, and distinguished 
 ones, too, whose members " touch not, taste not," yet whose 
 tables are always loaded with the poisonous beverage, for the 
 sake of guests who would almost feel it an insult to be invited 
 to dinner without wine. The most celebrated dissenting 
 minister in London once said to us : " Yours would be a fine 
 country, were it not for Slavery and- the tyranny of Tem,j)er- 
 ance!'" We will not mention his name, but he is the most 
 talented preacher in London, as we can testify by personal 
 experience, and his name is familiar to the religious world. 
 He once made a tour to this country, incog., and found 
 extreme trouble in taking his glass of wine in respectable 
 religious company. Perhaps he was right, but the same kind 
 of tyranny frowns down licentiousness, theft and murder. 
 The public advocates of the temperance cause in England, so 
 far as we were .capable of forming an opinion, were of the 
 second and third orders of talent, and somewhat shabby in 
 general appearance. — Where so much attention is paid to 
 position and respectability as in Britain, great pains should be 
 
304 ^ -VVHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 taken to secure advocates of position and power. Occasional 
 advocates, like Joseph Sturge, Robert Charlton, and Henry 
 Vincent, do the real work among the resjiectables, while 
 Hudson, Whitaker, Edwards, &c., influence the lower classes. 
 
 Thonaas Beggs was for some trnie the leader in this de] art- 
 ment of English reform, and an abler, more thorough advocate 
 of any cause, could not be found in any country He is the 
 English counterpart of Dr. Jewett, full of facts and argumenta- 
 tive eloquence. But he has quit the temperance field alto- 
 gether, whether from want of support, or from the want of 
 a sufficient number of respectable gentlemen to surround him, 
 we do not knoMf, but we do know, that to be a temperance 
 lecturer, in England, is to meet privations and contumely, 
 which here are unknown. Temperance here is popular — 
 there unpopular, and so much so, that hundreds of reformers^ 
 in the Anti-Slavery, Anti-State and Church, and UniversaiO 
 Sufirage ranks, continue in the drinking habits. Some of the 
 best personal acquaintances of ours in England, are those 
 who taste the sparkling champagne. Mr. Beggs, though 
 powerful, is sometimes sarcastic to eccentricity. He once 
 went down into the country to lecture, and had for an 
 audience a small collection of miserable, taxed-to-death work- 
 men, who cheered him loudest when he was the tamest, just 
 according to the state of their lungs, and finally by their 
 untimely roars and ignorant cries, he became quite irritated 
 and provoked, and determined to say something so pointed 
 that it should pierce their thick skulls ; so for a peroration he 
 said with solemnity : " Gentlemen, I trust Godlias. forgiven 
 me for coming doivn here to-night ; if so, I protjzise Him 
 never again to do so foolish a thing .'" He is now connected 
 with the Financial Reform Association. 
 
 There is ncrt a land under the sun which needs a thorough 
 reformation from intemperance so badly as Great Britain. 
 France, Russia, Austria, Prussia or Italy are not so besotted 
 
ME\ Axn TnixGS. ;^05 
 
 ■with intoxicating liquors hs Encland, althongh in energy and 
 intelligence England is their superior. The working classes 
 have become imbruted with beer, which is one of the vilest 
 compounds ever invented. It is far worse than genuine 
 brandy, for it makes a fool of the man who drinks it. 
 
 There were drank last year in Great Britain, 22,962,912 
 gallons of home-made spirits 1 
 
 In England — 9,053,676 imperial galls. 
 In Scotland - - - 5,935,063 
 In Ireland ---0,973,333 
 
 The duty upon that quantity amounted to over 25,000,000 
 of dollars, and such is the revenue to government, th^t it 
 would receive a heavy shock were all Britons to-morrow to 
 become tee-totalers. This does not include rum, brandy, or 
 beer. The whole retail cost of this enormous number of gal- 
 lons was over $85,000,000 ! And this was borne principally 
 by people too poor to enjoy the common comforts of life — a 
 people, five sixths of whom cannot cast a vote because of their 
 poverty — a people who a few years since died by thousands 
 of famine, and yet that very year consumed grain enough for 
 distilling purposes to have given bread to all the starving 
 wretches that died, and to have saved the nation from positive 
 suffering and want. 
 
 There were consumed last year 644,758 gallons of rum, 
 swelling the total cost of home-made spirits and rum to the 
 enormous amount of one hundred millions of dollars I 
 
 Beside this there are two other important items — brandy 
 nnd beer — the last being a common and favorite beverage of 
 .he workinjT people. 
 
 Of brandy there were drank last year 2,187,501 gallons in 
 the United Kingdon. al a cost of more than $15,000,000. 
 
 Duty was paid to the Goveniuient during the last year on 
 nearly 40,000,000 bushels of malt, and between 400 and 
 500,000.000 gallons of beer were manufactured. At least 
 • 20 
 
3U6 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 $120,000,000 were then spent by the inhabitants of Grea 
 
 Britain last year for beer ! 
 The figures stand thus — 
 
 Beer $120,000,000 
 
 Brandy 14,000,000 
 
 Rum 15,000,000 
 
 Home-made Spirits - - 85,000,000 
 
 Total - - $235,000,000 
 
 Two hundred and thirty-five millions of dollars nett ! And 
 consumed by a nation of poverty-stricken men and women. 
 It is in the power of- the working men of Great Britain to 
 compel the Government to grant them universal suffrage. If 
 they would stop drinking and save their money for the pur- 
 chase of freeholds, in a short time they could outvote the 
 aristocracy, or they could by such a course bring the Govern- 
 ment upon its knees. Nothing will make a European Govern- 
 ment tremble quicker than a diminution in its revenues ; and 
 the revenue arising from beer, brandy, and spirits is very 
 great. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. 
 
 It is a very difficult matter to write just criticisms upon the 
 English people — much more difficult than many people ima- 
 gine. A visitor w^ho sees none but the nobility (the Websters 
 and Bancrofts), may live in England a half-century, and yet 
 know very little of the real condition and prospects of the 
 people. Or he may grope about the splendid houses of the 
 merchant princes, among the traders, or circulate through the 
 principal literary circles, and yet know nothing, or next to 
 nothing, of the people as a whole. The feeling of caste h 
 so very strong throughout England, that when a man enter? 
 the country, and is introduced by a person who is the mem- 
 ber of a certain class, he will never, unless by accident, go 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 307 
 
 above or below that particular class. This may seem strange, 
 but it is true, with a very few exceptions ; and those excep- 
 tions, if carefully studied, will prove to be the results of acci- 
 dent. It is like going to Oregon — to enter England — you 
 have, at the starting-point, your choice of routes ; but once 
 started on the upper route and you cannot see the lower, or 
 if you choose the lower, then you cannot see the upper, unless 
 you commence anew. There are no intersecting roads. If 
 you chance to have a good introduction to Lord Palmerston, 
 Russell, or Ashley, or any of their associates, you will fare 
 sumptuously every day, and get an exalted opinion of English 
 liberality and elegance — but, alas I you have not seen the 
 backgrounds of the picture. 
 
 It is only by comparing the notes of persons who have 
 moved in the diflerent classes — thus embracing all — that a 
 just criticism may be formed of the English people. The 
 people are divided into numerous classes — lyroperly CQStes — 
 the members that exist on the confines of any one, S07netimes 
 stepping over to the frontiers of the other. 
 
 First, there is the class of nobles, which has, at least, a 
 half-dozen subdivisions or degrees in rank. 
 
 Second, we ought to class the literati, for though they are 
 often found among all classes, and move, by virtue of their 
 genius and talents, among all, yet they are a class — though 
 not exclusive — a far nobler class, too, than that styled noble. 
 
 Third in rank, is the class of merchants and manufactur- 
 ers. Below this, the divisions are so multifarious, that it is 
 useless to attempt a classification. The most degraded class 
 is, Ave think, that of the agricultural laborers, although we 
 have had no opportunity to see the miners. This horrible 
 feeling of caste fs as plainly visible among the (so styled) 
 lower orders, as among the higher, for it is extremely natural 
 everywhere for the lower to imitate the weaknesses of the 
 higher — the poor those of the rich. A place-mechanic feels 
 
308 WHAT T SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 as much above his brother journeyman, as the lord above the 
 merchant, or the merchant above the draper who retails the 
 goods which he imported ; and in like manner is this odious 
 feeling- traceable everywhere in England. 
 
 The nobility are proud, rich, and possessed of educated re- 
 finement. They patronize the fine arts, and encourage litera- 
 ture — they are somewhat voluptuous, yet better moralists 
 and Christians than the aristocrats of the Continent. They 
 love plainness and solidity, and in their houses and carriages 
 this can be seen, for this is an important ingredient in an 
 Englishman's character. They think all foreigners several 
 steps below them in the social scale, except Americans, and 
 we are their sons or they would excommunicate us. It is 
 considered beneath the dignity of an old family to contract 
 an alliance with a French, Spanish, or even German. It is 
 deteriorating the stock — it is contaminating the blood. This 
 pride in the age of families we cannot appreciate, and it 
 seems almost laughable to us sometimes. The future pros- 
 pects of the nobility are not flattering, for though Reform 
 moves at a slow pace in England, yet it never retraces a step 
 once taken. There are no reactionary movements there ; 
 slowly but certainly as the sun moves to the zenith, so moves 
 Reform in England towards its noon. The lords and earls 
 may hinder, but cannot prevent the grand final consumma- 
 tion. Long, very long, have they swayed the destinies of ]3ri- 
 tain — too long for the good of her suffering, starving people. 
 The condition of the biirgeoise, or great middle class, is envi- 
 able, for they have wealth, morality, and refinement. In no 
 country can a class be found superior in intelligence, Christian- 
 ity, and wealth, to this class. Their houses are filled with all 
 that can add comfort, and there is an absence of that vulgar- 
 ity that is too often seen in America. This class is that which 
 makes England what she is upon the ocean, and in her im- 
 mense possessions. They furnish {not create) her capital, and 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 309 
 
 slvili'iilly use it ; they build her churches and public buildings, 
 her railroads and canals. They are as pi'oud, perhaps, as the 
 iiobilily, but they are so closely couuected with the lower 
 classes that they are brought within the reach of their pray- 
 ers, and often sympathize with them. We are iucliued to 
 believe that a majority of the middle class are in favor of 
 radical reforms, that will tend to raise the lower classes from 
 their degraded position to that of acting, powerful men. Upon 
 this point hangs their future welfare, for if they side with 
 the masses in a call for reform, then reform will certainly 
 CQme, and England's leaders will be chosen by acclamation 
 from among the burgeoise. But if they neglect those de- 
 mands, and side with the oppressive aristocracy, they may for 
 a time keep off the day when the producers of England's 
 wealth shall stand erect in their manhood, but when that 
 day does come, it will be a sad day to them I For the en- 
 raged millions will remember their course, and will cause 
 their ruin. It is the height of conservatism for these men at 
 once to show their colors on the side of the oppressed masses. 
 For it is by, and out of them that they live, and when they 
 rise — as they must peacefully or in mob array — then will the 
 merchants, the ministers, the lawyers, and manufacturers, 
 rue the day of their adhesion to the Guizot policy, for an op- 
 pressed people in time madden and destroy what they will. 
 
 The class of laboring mechanics and agriculturists are in a 
 condition too sad to contemplate. Wages are generally ex- 
 tremely low — an agricultural laborer getting in the summer 
 months at the rate of from 30 to 60 cents a day, and board- 
 ing himself at that. In the winter he is glad to get half his 
 summer pay. Lord Ashley, the glib-tongued philanthropist, 
 often hires men at the rate of 25 cents a day, and those men 
 having large families suffering for want of bread. This was 
 true at a time when he made such a. furor in the House about 
 the factories of Manchester. We had some opportunity to 
 
310 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 see for ourself the state of agriculturists, but principally 
 gained our knowledge from frank and enlightened English- 
 men of the higher classes. The state of the laboring or agri- 
 cultural population is debased and sensual. They .see few 
 luxuries, and as for education, they are on an equality with 
 the brutes. 
 
 The mechanics or operatives suffer as much perhaps from 
 want of food as the tillers of the soil, but they, are more in- 
 telligent, and can oftener read and write. A skilful mechan- 
 ic can earn a good living sometimes, but he is not certain of 
 it. But however well he may do, he may never expect to 
 shake hands with him who is refined and educated. There 
 is a great gulf between the producer and the consumer — be- 
 tween the man who sells tallow-candles and the man who 
 tries the tallow I This is strange and exquisitely foolish, yet 
 it is a stern fact. Labor is not respected in England, and too 
 often the laborer shares the same fate that a man of color 
 does in America. 
 
 The price of labor is low, and then comes the army of 
 taxes that eat off the half of every starving man's"" loaf ! 
 
 But the prospects of the class are brightening every day. 
 Privileged abuses are being swept away, and their day is has- 
 tening on rapidly. They must, however, learn self-denial 
 yet, before they gain liberty — they must be willing to die for 
 it ere they will prize it as it should be prized. The working 
 classes, by abstaining from their beer for six months, could 
 bring the British Government upon its knees, and themselves 
 into the full stature of men. But they are too social — or love 
 their merry carousals too well. They are not prepared to suf- 
 fer for liberty, and they do not deserve it. An Englishman 
 hates a i-evolution — that is, one involving anarchy — as he 
 hates the French. Yet England is the greatest country in 
 the world for .peaceful agitators. An American, upon attend- 
 ing some of their public meetings, would think of the old 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 811 
 
 (lays of '7G. The Government is denounced in the most vio- 
 lent manner, and reform is advocated with the freedom of a 
 Patrick Henry. But you soon discover thai their courage is 
 very like that of a barking cur who is beyond the reach of 
 your whip. They know just how much it is safe to say, and 
 you never catch them over that Mason and Dixon's line. 
 
 Yet reform will come in England, and that, too, without 
 fighting. If the reformers would attempt a fight, the Gov- 
 ernment would be delighted, but the people are too wise for 
 that. They know that they could riiake no headway against 
 a disciplined army. They will wait till by moral force they 
 gain a majority in the House of Commons, and then tliey 
 can disband the array, and demand what they please. 
 
 ENGLISH HABITS. 
 
 The art of housekeeping is carried to perfection in England 
 The quietness and smoothness with which the routine of do- 
 mestic duties glide along, astonishes the American who is ac- 
 customed to noise and hurry, voracity and fretfulness, as the 
 accompaninient to " household joys." The universal haste to 
 get rich in this country, is an effectual bar to the full or gen- 
 erous development oi family pleasures and amusements. Men 
 struggle, as if for life, when with economy and contentment 
 they might enjoy life far better than princes do. Even our 
 richest men of business, though not urged on by the fear of 
 immediate poverty, are striving like madmen to keep up a 
 pontion. Fathers toil in the counting-room from morning till 
 night, adding furrows to their brows, that their wives and 
 daughters may ride in their splendid carriages with costly 
 shawls upon their shoulders, when more walking by day and 
 less flaunting by night, would be their health, vs'ealth, and 
 salvation. There is more steadiness in the English aim to 
 get rich — or rather there is less aiming to become rich, and 
 
312 WHAT I SAW IX LONDON. 
 
 more to secure a comfortable income. A good busii;ess ii 
 sufficient, if its income is all that is needed to support a man 
 in comfortable style, and its owner never anticipates a retire- 
 ment from business, till old age overtakes him. So he settles 
 down with the determination to enjoy as much, spend as 
 much, this year, as any year in the future, and thus the real 
 happiness of his house and home is secure. The comparative 
 absence of pretensions to wealth in England attracted our at- 
 tention particularly. We remember once of meeting at an 
 evening party a very modest yet amiable man, who had the 
 quiet manners of a true gentleman, yet whose moderate pre- 
 tensions were such as to lead one used to American society to 
 suppose him very poor. After the party was over, a friend 
 who accompanied us asked — 
 
 " Did you observe that modest, farmer-like man, Mr. 
 S ?" 
 
 We replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " Well, he is the richest land-holder in the County — he can. 
 ride a dozen miles in one direction on his own grounds I" 
 
 This is not a single instance : — many and many a time we 
 have had occasion to ask the wealth of men Avhose bearing 
 was quiet and unostentatious, and have been surprised to 
 learn their great wealth. Upon the whole, we are inclined 
 to think that the " almighty dollar" has a more abject wor- 
 ship in America than in England, or at least, in American 
 cities, than in those of Britain. The absence, or partial ab- 
 sence of this feverish desire to become rich, acts like a charm 
 upon the social influences that surround, or should surround, 
 a home. A gentleness settles around it like the flowers in its 
 garden, full of heavenly perfume. 
 
 If a man can afibrd to keep a carriage, he does so without 
 any particular ostentation ; if he cannot, he does not ; and 
 what is moi'e, he shows no senseless sensitiveness in trying to 
 conceal the fact that he cannot afford to keep one. We have 
 
MKN AND THINGS. 313 
 
 heard more than one fine man declare in open company that 
 lie could not afjhrd to keep a carriage, without the least 
 shame ; and we could not help contrasting his outspokenness 
 with many others in like circumstances here, who would 
 make all manner of" deceptive manoeuvres to avoid any ques- 
 tion bearing on so delicate a subject. 
 
 As the English man of business is more free from the terri- 
 ble desire to get itjddenly rich than men of business here, so 
 having more time to spend in the bosom of his home, to cul- 
 tivate and refine it, in exact proportion his surpasses ours in 
 all that is gentle, refined, lovely and pleasant. 
 
 We spent many happy days, while in London, at th(^ sub- 
 urban residence of a dear friend who is a member of that 
 opulent class of business men, known as merchant-manu- 
 facturers — a man who manufactures largely, and exports 
 what he manufactures. As his home is a sample of others 
 in his sphere of life, and may serve as a sample of home life 
 in London, we will describe it without exposing those home- 
 scenes which are all the sweeter that they are choice, and 
 must remain mysteries to all those who do not seek after 
 them in a true spirit of home-devotion. His cottage was 
 built of stone — in the antique French style of architecture — 
 all about it lay a garden,*capacious, and full of exquisite flow- 
 ers, old branching trees, water-Courses, green grassy lawns, 
 and fruits of all species. 
 
 The breakfast hour was nine, winter and summer, and 
 
 more than once in June we have awoke from sleep and looked 
 
 out upon the pleasant sunshine on the lawn, saying to our- 
 
 self, " We have four or five hours yet to sleep." The birds 
 
 were singing so loudly many times, that we almost laughed 
 
 at the idea of sleeping I At nine we used to enter the break- 
 
 1 fast-room, and sit down to tea, chocolate, and dry-toast. 
 
 < Plates, knives and forks were scarcely ever used — eggs v/e 
 
 "■■ ate, but were never tempted with meals or vegetables. After 
 x 
 
314 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 breakfast, the owner of the mansion rode invariably into 
 town, to his counting-room, where he was absorbed till tea, 
 or supper, as the state of his business demanded. In the 
 morning hours we could write, walk, ride, make excursions 
 with the ladies — in short, amuse ourself exactly as we thought 
 best. At 12 M. generally, a slight luncheon was served. 
 At three, four, or five, according to circumstances, the dinner 
 was eaten. This was the meal of the day, and a good deal 
 of etiquette was thrown about it. It occupied from one to 
 two hours, and sometimes a longer period. Soup commenced 
 the meal, and a luxurious dessert always ended it. With- 
 out the least confusion or noise the servants I'emoved or 
 brought on various tried or untried dishes, and any want or 
 wish of the guests was attended to, if signified by a mere 
 nod. It seemed to us strange to see the workmg of such per- 
 fect order. At the table every one ate slowly, masticating 
 thoroughly the food, talking leisurely, and waiting with pa- 
 tience the fZisappearance of one course, and the ajjpearance 
 of another. The haste, so awful to behold hei'e, where we 
 thrust the keen knife-blade down our throats, was never seen 
 by us, except when a company of railway passengers were 
 eating a dinner that miii^t be swallowed in ten minutes. 
 
 At seven, we generally drank tea,* which was accompanied 
 with toast, and the lighter species of cake. This was to us a 
 delightful repast — especially in winter, by the cheerful fire. 
 It is generally devoted to pleasant talk and social glee. One 
 could sit at table or not, as his fancy suggested. Gathei'ed 
 all about the pleasant fire, some on the sola, and others in 
 the " old arm-chairs," or at the table, it was a cheerful sight 
 to look upon or participate in. 
 
 Supper generally came on at nine or ten, or sometimes 
 much later. This was in every essential, like the dinner, — 
 hot meats, cold meats, &c. he, being served up in the most 
 palatable ^nanner Then the evening hours were devoted ^o 
 
MEN AND THINGS. 315 
 
 home pleasures. Of course, when out-door pleasui'es were 
 souglit, the supper hour was postponed until the return, at 
 miduight, or later. Then to our pleasant room, where at- 
 tentiv^e servants always placed plenty of water, towels, and 
 every convenience. A bell-rope always hung over our pil- 
 low, and a slight jerk in case of illness, would summon help 
 at once. 
 
 OPPRESSION. 
 
 There are many noble philanthropists in England, but if 
 one were to judge from the tenor of Exeter Hall speeches, he 
 Avould be led to suppose that oppression was a crime unknown 
 in England. That such is not the fact the reader will readily 
 believe. We will not now allude to the. gross oppression of 
 that system, which, while it taxes all Englishmen, only allows 
 one in six to cast a vote, thus imposing taxation without 
 representation — which always is tyranny. But we will look 
 for a moment abroad, and view the workings of British rule 
 tiiere. The small but powerful kingdom of Great Britain, 
 has vast possessions in the shape of colonies and dependencies. 
 But a small portion of them are in the situation of Canada, 
 which being contiguous to a land of political IVcedoin, has de- 
 manded and received many political privileges not accorded to 
 other colonies. There are countries of vast extent over which 
 the officers in Downing Street, London, exercise a most despotic 
 sway. The Russian bear is not more self-willed and iron- 
 hearted than these rulers over millions whom they never saw, 
 and never expect to see. 
 
 British India contains 514,190 square miles, besides which, 
 there are 1,128,000 under the protcclloii of the British Crown 
 That is, the native chief-^, and their people over this vast area 
 of territory, are bound hand and foot, and are completely tlie 
 subjects of the British Goverimient. A commercial comjiany, 
 called the East India Company, holds in trust for the crown, 
 
316 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 this great Indian Empire, and has done so for many years 
 The iniqiaities which have been perpetrated upon the natives 
 have often been exposed, but the English people have never 
 manifested anything like national shame or repentance. The 
 charter we believe expires the present year — and was granted 
 by Q-ucen Elizabeth. It remains to be seen whether the 
 British Parliament will renew a charter which is really a 
 lease granted to Despotism. 
 
 The Indian Government in England consists of twenty-four 
 directors, appointed by the East India Company, which is 
 under the control (if an Indian Board in London appointed by 
 the Crown. In India there is a Governor General, advised 
 by a small Council which is also nominated by authorities in 
 London. T]ds is the ivhole Government of India ! There 
 is no Legislature — the people are entirely unrepresented. 
 
 Briti.sh India is divided into the presidencies of Calcutta, 
 Madras and Bombay, the population of which combined 
 amounts to 100,000,000 ! These millions have no voice in 
 the management of their own affairs. Not a vote can th.ey 
 cast, but they are dumb, driven slaves, to all intents and 
 purposes. The annual tax which is levied upon this people, 
 is over $100,000,000. And what is still more astonishing — 
 every farthing of this immense sum goes into British pockets, 
 and nine tenths of it leaves India for England. The oppressed 
 natives pay the salaries of the great Engl sh lords who come 
 to rule them ; they pay all the salaries of the lazy clerks on 
 Indian matters i?i Lofido7i ; aye and pay for the support of 
 that British Army which butchers them as if t4ey w-ere 
 beasts, and not men destined to immortality. The great 
 India dinners which are given at the aristocratic London 
 Tavern at a great expense, are paid for by these poor wretches 
 in India. They also pay the interest on the heavy debt 
 which the Company has incurred in subjugating them to a 
 state of vassalage and slavery, and what is still mor'- damning, 
 
MEN a:^d things. 317 
 
 tliey actually pay ten per cent interest on the mernly nominal 
 capital of the Honorable East India Company I 
 
 One hundred millions are thus annually wrung from the 
 naliyes of India by militaiy force, ready to butcher them ifj 
 t'ley utter the first note of remonstrance. The land is taxed! 
 uud ils products, all imports and exports — and in return for 
 this the natives receive, not a solitary privilege, not the shadow 
 of political liberty I 
 
 The enormous sum of money drained from India yearly, 
 keeps England flooded with capital. Although the country 
 of all countries for bitter poverty, yet at the same time it is 
 full of gold. Capital is abundant — money almost a drug. 
 The few receive it, keep it, or loan it. Millions keep flowing 
 in from India, and nothing goes back. There is no return, 
 for the money does not come for goods or provisions, but is 
 furced from the people without any equivalent therefor being 
 given. This influx of capital keeps the aristocratic classes 
 rolling in splendor, and also renders them, in a certain sense, 
 independent of the poverty-stricken condition of the English 
 people. A panic at home does not touch them, for they lean 
 upon India, and they can laugh when national calamity 
 Cometh. The taxes in India are paid principally in native 
 products, and English merchants ai'e upon the sprit always 
 ready to purchase them for half their value, and sell again in 
 the markets of the world. Thus the natives are cheated, 
 even in the payment of their unjust taxes. Yet very little is 
 said in England about this great system of fraud and oppression 
 save by a few men like George Thomson and John Bright. 
 Exeter Hall resounds with eloquence directed against negro 
 slavery — but India is passed over in silence. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 
 THE OPENING. 
 
 We shall only attempt a very brief sketch of that wonder 
 of the present century — the World's Exhibition of 1851. For 
 were we to do it justice, we should occupy a volume ; 
 whereas our aim has been a different one — to give the reader 
 a lively impression of many of the distinguished men, and 
 things, and places, in London. 
 
 We saw the first sods removed in Hyde Park, on the spot 
 where was raised the wonderful, the magnificent structure of 
 Mr. Paxton — saw it gradually rise to gloiuous completeness — 
 saw the thousands of mechanics who built it — heard the 
 music of their hammers — and, when the Crystal Palace was 
 finished, entered and saw the world arranging its wares in it 
 for exhibition. This sight was a wonderful one, as we en- 
 tered the Palace two or three days before it was open to the 
 world, and the exhibitors of Asia, Europe and America were 
 busy in spreading out their wonders to the best possible ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 The building was opened on the first day of May. The 
 morning was a chilly one, yet very early all the avenues lead- 
 ing to Hyde Park were crowded almost to suflbcation, with 
 masses of enthusiastic people. Business was generally sus- 
 pended throughout London, and all those parts not contiguous 
 to Hyde Park wore an air of loneliness and desertion. The 
 
THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 319 
 
 shops all shut, few people to be seen, the streets silent — 
 strange sight for London ! But the Park itself was one huge 
 sea of human faces — everywhere near it, in all directions, 
 there were great crowds of people, all eager and anxious to 
 get a sight of the Crystal Palace and the Q,ueen, who was 
 soon to enter it. 
 
 The holders of season tickets alone were admitted that day, > 
 and at an early hour they flocked to the doors of the building 
 in such force, that a Company of Sappers and Miners were 
 called in to enforce order. By half-past eleven o'clock, twen- 
 ty-five thousand persons had arrived and were seated under 
 the crystal roof of the Palace of Exhibition ; then the doors 
 were closed. The view of these thousands in that wondrous 
 interior was splendid beyond description. The elite of the 
 world was there — the flower of England ! Men of rank, and 
 intellect, and wealth ; — renowned on the field and in the 
 workshop. There was the Duke of Wellington — it was his 
 eighty-second birth-day — looking hale and vigorous yet. There 
 was the venerable Archbishop of Canterbury ; Paxton, the 
 designer of tlie beautiful structure, in the prime of manhood ; 
 there were beautiful women too, from England, and France, 
 and Russia, and America ! 
 
 The view outside of the building was one of grandeur too. 
 Hundreds of thousands of people gathered up closely around 
 the walls of glass ; and the Park and the streets reaching out 
 '.\\ every direction, were densely packed with the multitude. 
 
 A little before twelve o'clock there was a smart shower of 
 rain, which however had no efiect upon the enthusiasm of the 
 outside millions. In a few minutes the glorious sun burst 
 forth, the clouds vanished, and the Crystal Palace glittered 
 like a " mountain of light." Then from across the river Ser- 
 pentine was heard the flourish of trumpets — the Q,ueen was 
 coming ! Then burst forth the cheers, and shouts, and thun- 
 derous hurrahs of that mighty assemblage. 
 
320 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 The carriage drew up before the northern transept, and 
 Her Majesty and Prince Albert entered. The thousands con- 
 gregated there arose to greet her becomingly, and she took her 
 seat upon the throne, under a beautiful silken canopy. 
 
 The Royal Commissioners read their Report ; — the dueen 
 made a gracious reply ; — then the Archbishop of Canterbury 
 ofiered up a fervent and beautiful prayer. The choir joined 
 in singing a grand Hallelujah Chorus ; and some idea of the 
 effect of the performance may be gained from the fact that it 
 was composed of the entire vocal strength of the Chapel 
 Royal, St. Paul's Cathedral, Westmijister Abbey, and St 
 George's Chapel of Windsor ! A massive organ accompanied 
 them, and the vast building vibrated with the majestic har- 
 monies which filled it. 
 
 Thus closed the impressive opening exercises, and the 
 crowd of people followed the Q,ueen as she made a tour of 
 the Exhibition. 
 
 THE EXHIBITION. 
 
 The finest interior view of the Crystal Palace was from the 
 centre, as we entered from the Southern Central transept. 
 The vast proportions of the building the reader knows — how 
 that it covered eighteen acres of Hyde Park — but he cainiot 
 imagine the astonishing grandeur of that view from the centre 
 — looking north and south, and still f irther east and west. A 
 lusty oak-tree rejoicing in its foliage stood at our left ; the 
 crystal fountain was playing in the centre, throwing its jets 
 of pure water aloft for the sunshine to make beautiful ; a blaze 
 of light and beauty assailed our eyes from every quarter ; and 
 we could see at the extreme eastern department the American 
 eagle, and the stars and stripes floating with majestic grace- 
 fulness ! 
 
 A grand aisle or transept ran from east to west through the 
 entire building, in the centre, and also north and south at 
 
THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 321 
 
 right angles. In this grand aisle the chef-cCoiicvres were 
 placed, both of industry and art. The British department 
 consisted of the entire western half of the building, with the 
 exception of a place for the machinery of all nations. In the 
 grand aisle of tliis department there were some fine specimens 
 of art — models of bridges — telescopes — lighthouses, and docks. 
 On the left hand, going west, first there was a fine collection 
 of cottons, wools, seeds, native arms, and artillery from the 
 British East Indies. Next the exhibition of Australia and the 
 Canadas — next to that an exhibition of English hardware, 
 agricultural implements, and woven fabrics. On the right 
 hand, going west, we saw many specimens of British Fine 
 Arts, of minerals, and a splendid collection of carriages. 
 
 In the department for machinery there were cotton-mills in 
 full operation ; printing presses striking off impressions of 
 newspapers ; and all kinds of curious machines requiring 
 steam motive power. 
 
 We were once more bj^the central Fountain, and walked 
 down the grand transept, east, towards the American depart- 
 ment. The Koh-i-noor diamond first arrested our attention — 
 then a piece of sculpture from Germany, entitled "The Ma- 
 zeppa Group ;" — then a stained window from Milan — and 
 still farther on " The Amazon and Tiger," a piece of sculp- 
 ture. 
 
 On the right hand side, going east, was the exhibition of 
 Tunis and China, and the Brazils, consisting principally of 
 costumes, tapestry, screens and carpets. 
 
 Switzerland followed with embroidery, silks, musical in- 
 struments, watches, linens, and straw plaitings. 
 
 Then came France with her mirrors, sofas, libraries, bronzes, 
 tapestry, gold and silversmith's work, laces, blondes, artificial 
 flowers and statuary. 
 
 Belgium was next in order with woolen manufactures, flan- 
 nels, damasks, zincs, iron and flax. 
 N* 21 
 
322 WHAT I SAW IN LONDON. 
 
 Austria was there with toys, boots and shoes, and a fine 
 collection of statuary ; Germany with type-machine, electric" 
 telegraph, embroideries, carpet-work, and shawls ; the Zoll- 
 verein with minerals ; — Russia principally with raw produce. 
 
 On the left, going east, we first came to the Turkish and 
 Arabian collection of brocades, silks, muslins and furs. Spain 
 and Portugal followed with leather, linens and produce. On 
 the extreme left, France exhibited locomotives and various 
 machines. In the Italian department there were mosaic ta- 
 bles, bronze castings, raw silks and statuary. 
 
 Holland furnished wools : Russia, on this side of the grand 
 aisle, porcelain vases, ornamental cabinet-work, Florentine 
 mosaics, and Caucasian arms. 
 
 The extreme eastern portion of the Palace was given up to 
 the United States, and over it the eagle kept watch with 
 careful eye. The first — aye, and the last — object we gazed 
 at, was " The Greek Slave," the master-piece of Hiram Pow- 
 ers. It stood alone in the Crystal Palace — unapproached by 
 any other piece of statuary there. The reaping-machine at 
 first did not attract much attention, but after its merits were 
 known, a crowd always surrounded it. There was always, 
 too, a crowd of admirers around the piece of sculpture, by 
 Powers. The collection of agricultural implements was good ; 
 there were excellent specimens of our raw produce ; fine da- 
 guerreotypes ; an ingenious bridge by Remington ; and other 
 things of real value ; and yet we speak the opinion of every 
 American who visited the Crystal Palace, when we say that 
 the United States were not well and thoroughly represented 
 there. No fair idea could be gained of our resources, of our 
 manufactures and inventions, by the collection exhibited in 
 the Palace. There were many circumstances, which contrib- 
 uted to render our collection meagre. The distance was 
 great ; the movement was not a popular one in all the States, 
 and the Government did not move with sufficient alacrity 
 
THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 323 
 
 about the matter. But it has now passed away, and it is use- 
 less to regret that over which we have no control. 
 
 We have given the merest bird's-eye view of the contents 
 of the Crystal Palace — only mentioning the prominent thinga 
 which were exhibited in each department. We now hasten 
 to the termination of the great exhibition. 
 
 THE CLOSE. 
 
 On a somewhat cheerless day of October, with few cere 
 monies and little circumstance, the Great Exhibition was 
 closed. The trees in Hyde Park had begun to shed their 
 leaves, and there were approaching signs in every direction, 
 of the coming gloom of winter. The interior of the great 
 Palace looked sad ; the very branches of the old trees there, 
 which, during the summer, had been blessed with such royal 
 society, looked forlorn. The Royal Commissioners were there, 
 surrounded by about ten thousand people. Prince Albert read 
 a report ; the Earl of Granville ditto ; the white-haired Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury murmured a prayer in a faint voice ; 
 the great organs thundered forth one final Hallelujah ; and 
 the wondrous Exhibition, which had attracted the world to- 
 gether, which for many months had been the theme of con- 
 verse in all cities and countries, from Tahiti to Hindostan, 
 was brought to an end. 
 
 There was no pageantry, no pomp — and no one of all the 
 thousands there seemed to desire it. Upon every countenance 
 there was a shade of solemn sadness, as if the moral of that 
 day's scene had found its way to the heart ; that all in this 
 world of ours, however gorgeous, however costly and beauti- 
 ful, must come to an end. Yes, the scene was a striking one, 
 but not mire so than the moral which every one could not 
 fail to draw from it. The world had tried its utmost, and 
 built a palace of wondrous beauty, and filled it with its grand- 
 
324 WHAT I SAW IN LOx\bON. 
 
 est, its proudest achievements. The summer passed away in 
 gloryings, and rejoicings, in splendid revelry — and yet here 
 was the end. And. while standing there, to how many hearts 
 came the recollection of those sublime lines of Shakspeare, 
 which we have quoted in another place, but which will bear 
 repeating here : 
 
 " The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
 Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve, 
 And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 Leave not a wreck behind." 
 
 And now that the Exhibition is closed, we may remark 
 that during the summer of 1851, from the American depart- 
 ment, Europe (and especially England), cannot have failed to 
 learn that — it is not wise to laugh too soon. America, in 
 May, was the laughing-stock of Europe ; the journals of Paris 
 and London went into convulsions of merriment at our ex- 
 pense ; Punch jeered, and the Times thundered forth its sar- 
 casm ; and the people laughed. The same America in Sep- 
 tember was the envy of Europe. Tlien even the Times, 
 gave us the first position, in the Crystal Palace, and out of it ; 
 Mr. Fundi s wit was suddenly in our favor ; and this time, 
 America laughed. We had triumphed on the water and on 
 the land. Our yacht shot past all her competitors, and our 
 reaping-machine became the wonder of England. 
 
 Yet America could not exhibit there those characteristics 
 which really make her superior to the rest of the world. Our 
 universal suffrage, education, absence of poverty, universal 
 industry and morality — we could not exhibit these in the 
 Crystal Palace. But they are " fixed facts" in America, and 
 . — nowhere else. Our village churches, supported, by no cruel 
 ecclesiastical laws, our millions of school-houses, our cottage- 
 homes, were not at the Exhibition. And we are justly 
 
THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 325 
 
 prouder of them than of aught at the Crystal Pahice. These 
 are the things which really distinguish us from the rest of the 
 world, and we should not be afraid to avow to the world that 
 we would ten thousand times rather (if we 11110,1 make a 
 choice) stand first in education, happiness, and morality, than 
 in manufactures or the fine arts. 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 The rain fell in torrents as we stood one morning in the 
 Euslon Square Railway Station, with a band of our English 
 friends around us — to speak the word, farewell ! There were 
 a few last words to say — and then the hissing of the engine 
 warned us to take our seat in the train ; we bade our friends 
 a long adieu ; and were soon panting onwards towards 
 Liverpool. 
 
 Early the next morning our baggage was removed to the 
 vessel which was to bear us homeward, across the great deep 
 once more, and in a few hours we set out upon our long journey. 
 
 No true-hearted American ever yet set sail from a foreign, 
 shore /or the home-land without a feeling of enthusiastic joy. 
 And yet there was somewhat of sorrow as well as gladness 
 in our heart. When we gazed at the stars and stripes at the 
 mast-head, pointing homeward, a thrill of joy shot through 
 our heart; but when we turned to the English shores, dying 
 in the distance, and which we had left forever, we grew sad. 
 England's soft landscape, her grass-covered hills, and oaken 
 forests ; her blue skies, and merry singing-birds, were gone 
 from us. And then we thought of her romantic ruins — of the 
 haunts of her poets — and the graves of her statesmen. We 
 remembered how years ago, in America, we had been amazed 
 by the giant intellect of Shakspeare — how Milton had awed 
 us, and Scott delighted ; — how Chatterton's sad story had 
 
FAREWELL. 327 
 
 enlisted our sympathies — how De Foe in still younger days, 
 had been the object of childish wonder and worship, as the 
 author of " Robinson Crusoe." Yet since then we had 
 Avalked in the very streets where Shakspeare walked ; seen 
 Milton's birth-place and grave ; rested where John Bunyan 
 sleeps ; visited the haunts of poor young Chatterton, and seen 
 the room in which Daniel De Foe wrote " Robinson Crusoe I" 
 And now we are leaving all — perhaps forever. 
 
 Then there were beautiful English homes that had cherished 
 us as a mother cherishes a child. When fever-stricken, 
 gentle hands had ministered to our wants with the watchful- 
 ness of true affection. And now as we gazed from the vessel's 
 deck, out upon the low, distant English shore, is it strange 
 that we were sad ? 
 
 The sun was almost down, but before sinking behind the^ 
 great Atlantic waves, his golden light fell sadly though 
 beautifully upon the shore, and webade England — as we now 
 bid the reader — Farewell ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
Gentle Dora ! !-Dashing Maggie ! ! ! 
 
 MRS. MARY J. HOLMES' i\EW STORIES, 
 
 DOM DEANE and MAGGIE MILLER 
 
 In One neat 12mo, Volume. 474 pages. Price $1.00. 
 
 -Mrs. Holmes endeavors to touch the heart, to take what is pure anfl excellent and 
 holil it II]) to the rciider in contrast with wliat is vile and deceiitivo. And in this she 
 t-Xi't^Is. The fireside, we are sure, will thank her heartily tor these books, and presorx e 
 tlu'tn with relipous strictness, for they are entertaining as well as instructive. — Neio 
 Yiirk Ciimnierclal Times. 
 
 Tlie two tales in this new vohiine are deliihtful, and will be well received by the 
 many who have derived so much entertainment from their predecessors. — Boston Trtiv. 
 
 'I'here is an air of trnihfulness in her common-sense style, an absence of exastseration 
 and othi;;h colorini:, which conveys a sense of repose to tlie mind wliich has fed on I he 
 urtilieial stimulus of excilinir novels. Her womanly gentleness wins the heart, and her 
 chiirminij fancy tlirows a spell over the imagination. — Detroit Free Press. 
 
 The incidents in both these stories are such as pertain to daily experience, and on 
 tliat account they brins out more touohingly the traits of individuals in whom the 
 atilhor determines to interest her readers. Her knowledge of the human heart, in 
 childhood, and in the multiform trials of woman's lot, gives her the power of an cxpe- 
 rie;iced artist. — .iV. 1' E.rpress. 
 
 She ha.s the happy faculty of enlisting the sympathies and affections of her readers, 
 and of holding their attention to her pages with deep and absorbing interest. — Alliciny 
 Times. 
 
 The two stories which make up this volume — " Dora Deane" and " Maggie Miller'" — 
 lia\e the elements of as wide a popularity a.s either of their predecessors. She wields a 
 gracetul and gr.iphic pen. Her characters are skilfully portrayed, and she never fails 
 to win and retain the good opinion of her readers. She has not failed in this agreeable 
 volume. — Detroit Advertiser. 
 
 These stories are told In her best manner. "Maggie Miller" will be found particn- 
 Virly interesting. The characters are finely drawn, and the incidents are life-like and 
 truthful. — Lowell Vox PoptiU. 
 
 The stories in this volume will be read by every lover of fiction with unadnUcrated 
 satisfaction. As a student of human character Mrs. Holmes has few eqn.-il-. and her 
 descriptive faculties are of a superior order. "Maggie Miller" especially demonstrates 
 this liict. Some of its passages, as specimens of spirited composition, arc seldom 
 excelled. — Troy Times. 
 
 The two stories in the work before ns are among the most entertaining the talented 
 nulliore.ss h.is ever written ; there is, throughout both, a charm and a beauty which 
 cannot fail to plea-se, and they have not a dull page within them. The characters are 
 sketched with a master pen — not overwrought, but yet so earnestly life-like as to be full 
 of interest — and an easy grace pervades the whole. — Lawrence American, 
 
 Also ready, uniform in style with the above, New Sditions of 
 
 LENA RIVERS, 416 pages, 12mo. $1.00 
 
 HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE, 380 pages, 12mo. $1.00 
 
 MEADOW BROOK ; or, ROSA LEE, 380 pages, 12mo. ■ $1.00 
 
 MRS. HOLMES' l¥ORKS, 
 Uniform style, 4 vols., scarlet cloth, $4.00. --4 vols., half-calf, $6.00 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies sent by mail, postage paid, upon 
 r«ceipt of the price. 
 
 C. M. SAXTOW", BARKER & CO., Publishers, 
 
 IT) Park Rffic, New York. 
 
A Book which will not be forg-otten. 
 
 'LENA'RIVERS. 
 
 BY MAliY J. HOLMES, 
 
 est and Sunshine,'" "The English Orphans," 
 on the Hillside," etc. etc. 
 
 In One Volume, 416 Pag^es, 12uio. Price $1 00. 
 
 Author of " Tempest and Sunshine,"' "The English Orphans," " The Homestead 
 on the Hillside," etc. etc. 
 
 As the social and domestic relations are the great sources of happi- 
 ess, or its opposites, so those romances that properly treat of those re- 
 lations — of the virtues that adorn, and of the vices that deform them 
 — are clearly the most interesting, impressive, and useful. 
 
 'LEjVA rivers is an American Domestic Story, unveiling in a mas- 
 terly manner the sources of social and domestic enjoyment, or of dis- 
 quiet and misery. By intermarriages of New England and Kentucky 
 parties, a field is opened to exhibit both Yankee and SoutJierit domestic life, 
 for which the talented authoress was well prepared, being of Yankee 
 birth and early education, and having subsequently resided in the South. 
 She was thus especially fitted to daguerreotype the strictly domestic 
 and social peculiarities of both sections. 
 
 'LENA RIVERS AND THE PRESS. 
 
 A work of unusual promise. Mrs. Holmes possesses an enviable talent in the study of 
 American character, which is so perfectly developed by acute observation from life, that 
 it would now be impossible for her to write an uninteresting book. — Pkila. Sat. £aUeli?i: 
 
 There still lingers the artist-mind, enlivening, cheering, and consoling by happy 
 thoughts and pleasant words; moving the heart alternately to joy or sorrow, convulsing 
 ivith laughter, or bringing tears to the eyes. — llocJtester American. 
 
 The characters are well drawn, and the tale is one of interest It will find many well 
 pleased readers. — Albany Statesman. 
 The story is simple, natural, truthful. — Rochester Daily Advertiser. 
 Before we were aware, we had read the first two chapters. We read on — and an — and 
 it was long after midnight when we finished the volume. We could not leave it We 
 know of no work with which we could compare '"Lena Eivera" — so as to form a just 
 estimation of its merits. — MerHckvUle Clironide. 
 It is not the first of the author's works, but it Is the best — State Register. 
 To the sex wo commend it, on the assurance of its merit volunteered to us by ladies 
 in whose critical acumen we have the fullest confidence. — Buffalo Express. 
 
 The story opens in New England, and is continued in Kentucky, with very lively and 
 characteristic sketches of scenery and character in both States. It is both good and m- 
 TEKESTiNG. — New York Daily Times. 
 
 The moral of the plot is excellent Cowardly virtue, as exhibited by 'Lena's father, 
 may here learn a Ifsson without suffering hi,s bitter experience ; while the rashness of 
 vouth may be warned against desperate acts, before a perfect understanding is had. — Jfew 
 Bedford Express. ^ 
 
 This is an American novel possessing merit far superior to many which have been 
 puhli-shed during the last two years. Tlie delineations of character are neatly and accn 
 ;ately drawn, and the tale is a deeply interesting one, containing many and varied inci 
 lients, illustrative of the workings of the human mind, and of social and domestic life ir- 
 lifferent parts of this country. The lesson to be deduced from its pages Is a profitable 
 )ne — which is more than can be .said of many novels of the day. — Portfolio. 
 
 The scene of this tale is in Kentucky, although Now England figures in it somewh.it, 
 .tnd New Englanders still more largely. It is written in a lively style, and the inte.est 
 '8 not allowe(I to flag till the stiiry terminates. One ot the best things in the bonlr ,s its 
 Ely and admirable hits at American aristocrac)'. It quietly shows .some of ''the jiletioian 
 'ocalion," which liave, e-irly or late, been connected with the " first families," aiif" gives 
 US a peep behind the curtain into the private life of those who are often objects of envy. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies mailed, postpaid, on rocciiit of 
 efae price. c. M. SAXTOW, BARKER & CO., Publishers, 
 
 25 Park Rou\ Neic York. 
 
Cluiet, Gentle, Home-like, Earnest, Truthful. 
 
 MEADOW BliOOK; OR, IIOSA LEE. 
 
 BY MARY J. HOLMES, 
 
 Author of " 'Lena Kivers," " Homestead on the Hillside," etc., etc. 
 
 One Volume, 12mo, 3S0 pages. Price $1 00. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 No admirer of Mrs. Holmes' writings will thank us for a "critical" opinion of this, 
 her latest and best work. The time for such a thing has gone by. But surely they will 
 pardon us if we dwell lingeringly and lovingly over one or two of her characters: — the 
 angel-like Jessie, the rightly-named Angel of tlie Pines, who, though a child, went 
 about like a ministering angel, when all others had fled the pestilence tliat walked at 
 noonday, and at last fell before its withering stroke. Surely, if a tear falls here^ it falls 
 in the right place. And then Eosa:— Kosa at thirteen the schoolmistress and in love. 
 One year after, Rosa the governess was again in love. How we are interested in the 
 tangled web of her life-e.xperience, and how we rejoice when at last the orange-flowers 
 crown her brow, and the storm-tossed barque reaches the sure haven of repose; 
 "The blessing given, the ring is on; >- 
 
 And at God's altar radiant run 
 The currents of two lives in one." 
 Ada, the deceiving, merits our scorn ; Ada, the dissipated, somewhat of our pity. Dr. 
 Clayton we despise for his fickleness, honor for his after-manliness, and congratulate for 
 Ills eventual happiness. — National American. 
 
 We have read this book with no little satisfaction, for it has a reality about it that 
 touches a spot not always sensitive to descriptions written with more pretence and lite- 
 rary style. It is particularly attractive to one with a New-England experience, as its 
 *arlier chapters are drawn from life in the country portions of tliat region, anil those 
 immediately following are laid in Boston. We do not mean to intimate that the book 
 is carelessly written, but that it is "the touch of nature that makes all men kin" that is 
 Its especial charm. It does not read like a romance, but like a calm narration by some 
 friend of events occurring in a circle of one's old friends, and the intense interest with 
 which we follow the narrative seems to be rather from personal feeling than from the 
 nsii*! false excitement of the overstrained sentimentalities of most of the modern works 
 of fiction which "read like a book." — Newark Advertiser. 
 
 Our friends in the novel-reading line will gladly hail a new work called " Meadow 
 Brook," by Mrs. Mary J. Holmes, author of " Tempest and Sunshine," and several other 
 well-known and popular works. "Meadow Brook" is an exceedingly attractive book, 
 and one that will alternately call forth smiles and tears. The chapters delineating tho 
 life of the youthful " school-ma'am," awl her experience in "boarding round," may be 
 termed " rich" in every sense of the word. We doubt if their equal can be met with in 
 any of the novels of tlie present day. The after-life of Eosa Lee, the heroine of Meadow 
 Brook, will be found to be of equal, if not of superior interest to the earlier part, so 
 graphically dclineatsd in the first half-dozen chapters. — Providence Journal. 
 
 Many of her characters might be. If they are not, drawn from life. We have met a 
 little Jessie whose bright, sweet face, winning ways, and sunny, happy temper, made 
 her a favorite with all who knew her. Jessie Lansing vividly recalls our little Jessie, 
 who, we hope, is still the sunbeam of her own sweet Southern home. Mrs. Holmes 
 draws her pictures from the deep welling fountain of her own heart and life, reaching 
 our hearts as well as our imaginations, and will always meet a cordial reception when- 
 ever she appears. — Binghamton liepuhlican. 
 
 "Meadow Brook" is a plain story of American life and American people, with capital 
 Illustrations of American habits and manners. . . The story is a well-written common- 
 sense affair, containing much that will please the reader. Nothing is distorted or over- 
 drawn, but all is calculated to impress the reader with a t«Zie/'in the writer — that is, 
 that she is telling a true tale. — Rochester Advertiser. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies sent by mail, postage paid, upon 
 receipt of the price. 
 
 C. M. SAXTON", BARKER & CO., Publishers, 
 
 25 Park Pou\ Neto York. 
 
Natural, Truthful, and Enticing 
 
 THE 
 
 HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE, 
 
 BY MRS. MARY J. HOLMES, 
 
 Tho Popular Author of "Tempest and Sunshine" and "The English Orphans." 
 In One Volume, 380 Pages, 1 2nio. Price SI 00. 
 
 The numerous and delighted readers of "Tempest and SuNsmNB" and "Tuk En- 
 6LISU Oepiians " — Mrs. Holmes' former works — will be pleased to learn tliat another 
 work of their favorite author is again within their reach. That this work will be ea- 
 gerly sousclit and widely read, her former brilliant s\icce.ss affords tho surest triiaranty. 
 
 Mrs. Hcilmes is a peculiarly pleasant and fascinating writer. Uer subjects are tlie home 
 and family relations. Slie has the happy faculty of enlisting the sympathies and atfee- 
 tions of her readers and of holding their attention to her pages, with deep and absorbing 
 interest. Tlie Homestead on tlie Hillside is, therefore, attracting tha 
 liveliest attention ; and readers and 
 
 REVIEWERS ARE DECIDED IN ITS PRAISE. 
 
 Any one taking up the book must take a " through ticket," as tuere is no stopping 
 place "this side" of the last page. The arts of the designing woman arc given in tlieir 
 true color, showing to what oily-tongued hypocrisy humanity will stoop for tlie further- 
 ance of its purposes ; what a vast amount of unhapi)iness one individual may bring up- 
 on an otherwise happy family; what untold misery may result from the groveling spirit 
 of fancied revenge, when cherished in the bosom of its unhappy possessor. — Brockport 
 Gazette. 
 
 The talented author of "Tempest and Sunshine" has again hit on a happy subject. 
 "The Homestead on the Hillside" has afforded her ample scope for the exercise of thosa 
 high descriptive powers and those striking portraitures of character which have ren- 
 dered her former works such general favorites. In one word, the book before us is no 
 ordinary production. — Philadelphia Daily News. 
 
 Vigor, variety, a boldness and freedom of style and expression, eccentricity alike of 
 character and incident, are among its most striking peculiarities. Slie has improved, in 
 the book before us, upon her fii-st effort, and several of these tales will not fail to add to 
 her already well established reputation as a vigorous and attractive writer.— jBo^^. Atlas. 
 
 The artfulness and resignation eshibited by^he Widow Carter, in her modest but not 
 unnatural endeavors to gain the tender regard of Mr. Hamilton, as she smoothed the jdl- 
 low of his dying wife, deserve the especial attention of gentlemen liable to a like attempt 
 from a similar cause. They will doubtless see a dozen widows in the very dress and po- 
 sition of tlie philanthropic Mrs. Carter. There is quite a moral for young Misses, too, in 
 the book." — N. Y. Dutchman. 
 
 It cannot fail to please the lovers of flowing and graceful narrative. — Tribune. 
 
 It will be superfluous to say that Mrs. Holmes is a charming writer. — Tnie Flag. 
 
 Its genial spirit, its ready wit, its kindly feeling, will doubtless meet with due appreci- 
 ation from all its readers, "it touches with ready sympathy the fountains of mirtli and 
 tears, and one can neither restrain tho one nor withhold the other, in reading its tales of 
 joy and sorrow. — Broome liepuh. 
 
 We have perused this book with none but feelings of pleasure ; and we have closed its 
 pages, bearing in our heart its sweet spirit and eloquent moral. We heartily commend 
 iu — Lockport Courier. 
 
 Hor portrayal of human character and actions are admirable ; her style is fluent and 
 fascinating, and a most intense degree of interest is kept up throughout the volume. 
 But among all it3 excellent qualities, most prominent appears its eloquent morals. V.ead 
 It, so tliat you can have it to say, *" I once read a good book." — Lockport Democrat. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Single copies sent by mail, postpaid, upon 
 receipt of the price. 
 
 C. M. SAXTON, BARKEE & CO., Publishers, 
 
 25 Park lioic, New York. 
 
LOUIS NAPOLEOI, 
 
 AND THE 
 COMPRISING A 
 
 HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, 
 
 XHE CAEEEB OF NAPOLEON, THE EESTOEATION OF THE BOUE- 
 
 BONS, THE EEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE, THE LIFE AND CA- 
 
 EEEE OF LOUIS NAPOLEON, AND THE CAUSES, EVENTS, 
 
 AND CONSEQUENCES OF THE CEIMEAN WAE. 
 
 BY HENRY W. DE PUY, 
 
 ATTTHOK OP " KOSSUTH AND HIS GENERALS," " ETHAN ALLEN," ETC. 
 
 One Volume, 457 pp. 12mo., with Steel Portraits of Louis 
 Napoleon and the Empress Eugenie. Price $1 25. 
 
 — ■♦- ■ 
 
 The foregoing is an interesting and a reliable history of the Bona- 
 parte family, from the dawn of its celebrity to the present time. It 
 oontains a biography, not only of Napoleon I., Napoleon III., and of the 
 other members and branches of that distinguished family, but also of 
 other prominent actors in French affairs, ■with such a sketch of French 
 history as is necessary to the proper connection and clear understand- 
 ing of the work. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWERS. 
 
 The Bonaparte family is one of the most remarkable that has ever appeared on the 
 e.\vth. Its origin was so humble, its eIe%-ation so rapid and dazzling, its power so great, 
 its tail so signal and low, its re-appearance in the person of Louis Napoleon so unex- 
 pected and potent, and its future so portentous, that it at onee arrests the attention of 
 the modern historian, and audaciously takes its place in the very tbreground of his 
 canvas. 
 
 We are not aware that any author has before attemi)ted to present the entire iJona- 
 parte family in one concise, yet clear and satisfactory volume. It is a work long nccdetl, 
 and for which every intelligent person constantly feels a pressing necessity. Hence wo 
 heartily welcome the work before us. Its method is excellent, its breadth and grasp 
 vt-ry remarkable, and the style lucid and brilliant. Tlie engravings are superior, and 
 tyjio, [laper, and binding excellent. — Taunton Democrat. 
 
 .\n interesting and insft-uctive volume. The author has given a graphic description 
 of the career of the great Napoleon, free from thatexcessive flattery which dUtisi.'ui-'lies 
 the work of Abbott ; and the scarcely less brilliant career of Louis Napoleon is set tiirtli 
 with admirable succinctness and truthfulness. The work comprises the history o( 
 !•' ranee, and in fact of Europe, from the revolution of'SO to the present time, of wiiich 
 the misfortunes and successes of Louis Philippe form a most interesting chapter. The 
 biographical notices of the most distinguished characters that participated in public af- 
 fairs during that period, is also a valuable feature of the work. — Dem. Eo'poiiiuli'r. 
 
 '1 he style of the author is popular and attractive, and his book blends the interest t.f 
 history with that of biograpiiy. Portraits of the present Emperor and of the Kmpress 
 EiiiENiK, finely engraved, adorn the volume, which is handsomely issued in all resjiects. 
 — lloxtDii Tel( graph. 
 
 The notices of the various members of the Bonaparte family are written .with clear- 
 ness, as are also the sketches of Louis XVIH., Charles X., Louis Philipiie. Theirs, I^a- 
 martiiie, (ruizot, Abdei-Kailer, and numerous others whose names are familiar with 
 I-'reneh movements (luri:i:C the jiresent century. The outline of the Kussian War is 
 Irniiartially given, a commendation which may be generally accorded to the entire vol 
 i:i!ie, — TuoMAS Francis Meaoiiek. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-pakJ, to any address, upon receipt of i)riie. 
 
 C. M. 3AXTOK", BAHKEIl & CO., Publisheii^, 
 
 •S.J I'tirk Jii^w, i.'cu: Yu.k: 
 
THE BOOK OF THE AOE. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF A LIFETIME, 
 
 OR 
 
 MEN AlID THINGS I HAVE SEEN IN EUROPE AND AMERICA. 
 
 BY S. G. GOODRICH, 
 
 The veritable "Peter Parley," author of "The History of All Nations," &c. &c. 
 
 In two volumes, 1105 pp. large 12mo., 25 Original Engravings, including 
 
 an accurate Steel Portrait of the Author. Price, Black or Scarlet 
 
 Cloth, $3 00 ; Scarlet Cloth, Gilt Eda^es, $4 00; Half Calf, Marble 
 
 Edges, $5 00 ; Full Calf, Gilt Edges, $7 00. 
 
 This work embraces the prominent public events of the Last half century, both at home 
 and abroad ; a complete Autobiography of the author — his early days, education, and lit- 
 erary carepr; and an amount of original curious, and valuable Personal Incident, Ancc- 
 doto, and Description, seldom, if ever, met with in a single work. It is the Author's 
 Life-long Wokk, and nothing s\iperior, if anything equal to it, in blended amusenu-nt 
 and instruction, has ever been published. Mr. Goodrich is the author and editor of 
 170 Volumes, of which over seven millions of copies liave been sold! and 
 this, the great work of his life, embodies the condensed substance of his ample Liifir<ti-y 
 a7id Prdctical Experience ; the War with England in 1812-14, in which Mr. Goodrich 
 was a private soldier; the Hartford Convention^ whose operations took place under his 
 immediivte observation, and with most of tlie members of wliich he was personally ac- 
 quainted. Embracing curious and interesting details respecting Old JefferKonian De- 
 mocracy, Old Federalism, and Connecticut Blue Liyhts ; curious and marvellous 
 events connected with the rise and progress of Religioits Sects in the United States; 
 with descriptionsof the Erenoh Revolution o/"lS48, and Louis Najjoleon's Coup d'Etat, 
 both of which the author witnessed. Also, a full account of the "PETEE PAKLEY? 
 TALES," of which Four Millions have been sold. 
 
 In the course of the work will be found a Gallery of Pen and Ink Portraits of 
 over Two Hundred Celebrated Perso?iS— Presidents, Vice-Presidents. Kings, Qucen.-^, 
 Empenirs. Soldiers, Poets, Wits, Enthusiasts, Physicians, Preachers, Lawyers, Poliii- 
 cians. Diplomatists, &c. — all described from personal acquaintance or observation — among 
 whom are the following: 
 
 George IV. Lamartine, 11 en ry Clay, Dukeof Wellington, Benjamin West, 
 
 William IV. Victor Hugo, Dan'l Webster, Lord Broughatn, Fenimore Cooper, 
 
 Prince Albert, Ale.x. Dumas, M. Van Buren, Sir J. Mackintosh, Percival, 
 
 Queen Victoria Mad. Catalini, M.Fillmore, King Eliio Khio, or Brainerd, 
 
 Sir W. Scott, Mad. Malibran, J. C. Fremont, Dog of Dogs, Willis, 
 
 Lord Jelliey, Pasta, General Scott, Louis Phillippe, Hawthorne, 
 
 J. G. Lockhart, Talma, Prof Silliman, Louis Napoleon, Mi-s. Sigourney, 
 
 W. Blackwood Mile. Mars, Eli Wliitney, Tlios. A. Emmett, Miss Sedgwick, 
 
 Hannah More, Rachel, Judge Kent, Bishop Seabury, Mrs. Child, 
 
 Dr Chalmers, Ristori, Geo. Cabot, Bisliop WainvvTight, Charles Sjtrague, 
 
 Edw, Irving, Pope Pius IX. H.G.Otis, Dr. Mason, Longfellow, 
 
 Thos. Hood, Pres't Monroe, Jas. Hillhouse, Dr. Eomeyn, Pierpont, 
 
 Louis XVIII. J. Q. Adams, Uriah Tracy, Archibald Gracie, T. Buchanan Reed, 
 
 Charks X. Dr. Dwight, Nathl Smith, Miuot Sherman, Jacob Perkins. 
 To all which is added, the Author's recent 
 
 ANECDOTES OF TRAVEL, 
 
 In Fngl.and, Scotland, Ireland, France and Italy, tosetlier with a Complete CATAi.ocrn 
 OK TUK Aiithor's Works. uow for the first time publi>!]ed; with curious commenlarin.' 
 on the CoUNTEKKEiT Pai:i.ky Books, gut up iu London. 
 
 SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 Single Copies maibd, POST-PAID, to any address. 
 
 Published hj 
 
 C. M. SAXTON, BARKER & CO., Publishers, 
 
 25 Park How, Xew York. 
 
LIFE OF HENEY CLAY, 
 
 BY HORACE GREELEY AND EPES SARGEANT. 
 
 " But there are deeds which should not pass away, 
 And names which should not wither." 
 
 One Volume, 428 pp. 12mo.-, Steel Portrait, Muslin, Price $1,25 
 
 While tlie youth of America should imitate his noble qualities, tliey 
 may take courage from his career, and note the high proof it affords that, under oiir 
 equal institutions, the avenues of hon 'r are open to all. Mr. Clay rose hy the force of 
 his own genius, unaided by power, pall onage, or wealth. At an age when our young 
 men are usually advanced to the higher schools of learning, provided only with the ru- 
 diments of an English education, he turned his steps to the West, and, amidst the rude 
 collisiims of a horder life, matured a character whose highest exhibitions were destined 
 to mark er.is in his country s history. Beginning ou the frontiers of American civiliza- 
 tion, the orplian hoy, sn[)|)orted only by the consciousness of his own powers, and by 
 the confidence of the people, surm*unced all the barriers of adverse fortune, and won a 
 glorious name In the ann;ilsof his country. Let the generous youth, .fired withs-honora- 
 ble ambition, remember tliat the American system of government offers on every hand 
 bounties to merit. If, like Clay, orphanage, obscurity, poverty, shall oppress him ; yet, 
 If. like Clay, he feels the I'rometliean spark within, let him remember that his 'country, 
 like a generous mother, extends her arms to welcome and to cherish every o ,." "^er 
 children whose genius and worth may promote her prosperity or increase her reno.v; 
 
 Jiff iiiiir ^|eec|es of Jenrg Cliig, 
 
 BEING TUE ABOVE, TO WHICH IS ADDED 
 
 HIS MOST ABLE AND POPULAR SPEECHES. 
 
 steel Portrait, 633 pp. 8vo., Muslin, S2 00; Morocco, Marble Edge, $2 50. 
 
 "Tlie rush of native eloquence, resistless as Niasara, 
 The keen demand, the clear reply, the fine poetic imase. 
 The nice analogy, the clenching "fact, the n.etaphor, bold and free, 
 The grasp of concentrated intellect, wielding the omnipotence of truth, 
 Upon whose lips the mystic bee hath dropped the honey of persuasion." 
 
 As a leader in a deliberative body, Mr. Clay had no equal in Amer 
 lea. In him, intellect, person, eloquence and couraje, united to form a character fit to 
 coTnmand. He fired with his own enthusiasm, and controlled by his amazing will, indi- 
 viduals and masses. No reverse could crush his s[)irit, nor defeat reduce him to des- 
 pair. Equally erect and dauntless in i)rosperity and adversity, when successful, he 
 moved to the accompUshmont of his purposes with severe resolution; when defeated 
 he rallied his broken bands around him. and from his e^le-eye shot along their rank 
 the contagion of his own courage. Destined for a leader, he everywhere asserted his 
 le.stiny. In his lonsr and eventful life, he came in contact with nu-n of all ranks and pro- 
 fessions, but he never felt that he was in the presenc-e of w man superior to himself Jn 
 ths assemblies of the i)eople, at the bar. in the Sen.ite— everywhere within the circle 
 of his personal presence, he assumed .and maint.ained a position of pre-eminence. 
 
 aold by all B'.oksellors. Mailed, posl-jhihT, to any a.ldros.s, \\\,on reeoipt of price. 
 
 C. M. SAXTON, BARKER & CO., Publishers, 
 
 •i.'i Pitrl: How, Atw Yo-.li. 
 
GREAT AIviERICAN BIOGRAPHY! 
 
 WEBSTER 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS MASTER-PIECES 
 
 f is lift aiitr ircai ^|)Trr|c£ 
 
 BY B. F. TEFFT, T>. D., LT.. D. 
 
 Steel Portrait) Ttvo Volumes^ 1032 pp. 17uao, I ..^«:c, $'i aOt 
 
 THE LIFE EMBRACEs-'i 
 
 . The Webster Family. 
 
 2. Welistcr the Boy and Youth. 
 
 3. Webster tlie Studeut. 
 
 4. Webster the Lawyer. 
 
 5. Webster in his Domestic Relations. 
 
 6. Webstei the I.e^icljtor. 
 
 7. Webstc/ tlie Cit'T.an. 
 
 8. Wetister the 'Vrator. 
 
 9. "V'l ebrtei the O^-ator. 
 
 10. Webster the i'^ecutive Olliccr. 
 
 THE SPEECHES EMBRACE 
 
 1. Argwment in the Dartmouth College 
 
 Case. 
 
 2. Plymouth Oration — First Settlement of 
 
 New England. 
 8. Speech on the Greek Eevolution. 
 
 4. Bunker Hill Monument Oration. 
 
 5. Funeral Oration — Adams and Jefferson. 
 
 6. Lecture before Mechanic's Institution, 
 
 Boston. 
 
 7. The Character of Washington. 
 
 8. Speech atNiblo's Garden,"Mcw York. 
 
 9. Letter on Imjiressment. 
 
 10. Eejily to Ilayne on Foot's Resolution. 
 
 11. Constitution not a Compact — Rejily to 
 
 Calhoun. 
 
 12. Constitution and the Union — 7t!i of 
 
 Mirch Sjjeech. 
 
 We receive these volumes with especial satisfaction. Dr. Tefft's book, we doubt not, 
 will be a popular one. It has that brilliancy of touch and that vivacity of style which 
 arc always popular with the great body of readers.— -^cw^cw 'frtweler. 
 
 Such a life of the great statesman was needed. There is no other as cheap yet eleu'ant 
 form in which Webster's great efforts are to be found. They will sell well, we doubt not. 
 The more of them there are distributed, the better it is '"or our intelligence, our political 
 virtue and the public weal. — N. Y. Tinier. 
 
 Dr. Tefft has displayed much industry, versatility and discrimination in bis bii>graphy, 
 Rnd good taste in the selection of Mr. Webster's efforts, and these volumes cannot but 
 meet with a favorable reception from the public. — Boston Atlas. 
 
 There is no doubt but the book will be very generally sought and read by an appre- 
 ciatins public. It must be regarded as avahiable addition to the standard literary works 
 of the times. The author is exceedingly hapjiyin his use of lanuruaue. Thee*! is nothiii;; 
 laborious, dull or ditticult in the perusal; but on the contrary, it possesses an affabl'^ 
 congenial spirit which is entirely winning. We have been peculiarly interevted will, 
 the description of Mr. Web.ster's cliaracl >r contained in the last, chapter of the biovrr:ipli} 
 The author enters into the .subject with Vda whole soul, delineating faithfully lliose traits 
 peculiar to the man, expanding upon those qualities of mind which constituteil his great- 
 ness. The work is handsomely got up, and is ht to adorn any library. — Btija/o ll('i>. 
 
 We doubt whether a better biostrcphy will ever meet the eyes of the student, or en 
 rich the library of the man of lett/ rs. The style -S polished, clear, and interesting in » 
 bigh 'Vg;r»'e. — Boston Eve. Gasett^. 
 
 The best life of Webster that has ever appeared. — Buffalo Democracy. 
 
 8cl<l by all Bookoeillers. Mailed, post-paid, to any address, npon receipt of price. 
 C. M. SAXTOW, BABKEB & CO., Publishers, 
 
 26 Park Rou\ New York. 
 
 ^ 6 655^ 
 
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