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THE 
 
 AMERICAN IN ENGLAND, 
 
THE 
 
 AMERICAN IN ENGLAND; 
 
 A. SLIDELL MACKENZIE, 
 
 M 
 
 AOTHOR Of " ▲ VKAR IV SPAUT," XTC. 
 
 •« If we may judge of what has been wrote on these things, by all who have 
 wrote and galloped, or galloped and wrote, from the great Addison, who galloped 
 with a satchel of books lianging at his tail, and galling his beast's crupper at 
 every stroke, there is not a galloper of us all, who might not have gone on 
 ambling quietly over his own ground, in case he had any, and have wrote all he 
 had to write dry shod as well as not."— Sterns. 
 
 ABERDEEN: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY GEORGE CLARK AND SON, 
 
 LONDON:— W. BRITTAIN, 54, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
DA ^^^ 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Fbelihg that irresistible impulse which prompts a man to perpe- 
 trate a book, and having no land of his own on which to amble 
 quietly about and write a work of travels dry-shod, according to 
 the approved method set forth in the motto, the author, as an, only 
 resource, was forced to cross the water, and visit, in his proper per- 
 son, the country which he proposed to describe. 
 
 Trained almost from infancy to a profession which rendered con- 
 nected study almost impossible, and having, only by dint of much 
 perseverance, got what little education has fallen to his share in 
 much the same discursive and vagabond manner that a chicken, 
 gets his breakfast, a kernel of information in one corner and an- 
 other in the next, he found himself, on mounting to begin his 
 journey, quite unencumbered by any satchell of books such as hung 
 at the crupper of the great Addison. To set out as a teacher of 
 wisdom, with such poor qualitications, was to be destitute indeed 
 Thus situated, yet still impelled by the neceesity of writing, the 
 author felt all that remained for him was to forget that any books 
 before his own had ever been written, and, despising the erudition 
 which was beyond his reach, endeavour to see each thing as his 
 own eyes might convey its picture to his mind ; and, looking watch- 
 fully about him, from the moment of his arrival in the country 
 which was to be the scene of his travels until he should leave it, 
 take as accurate notice as he might of all his impressions, and seek, 
 in simple language, to convey them to his countrymen. 
 
 The author has simply attempted, then, to give, in the following 
 pages, a faithful narrative of whatever he saw during a visit of a 
 few weeks to England. Thus setting out with promising little 
 that little he will yet exert himself conscientiously to perform. 
 He feels that he has at least a right to lay claim to honesty of in- 
 tention, and to as little prejudice of opinion as may possibly fall to 
 the share of a writer who attempts the description of a country 
 
 iSSi±0V72 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 having so much in common with his own, and in the study of which 
 comparisons must, of necessity, suggest themselves at every step. 
 The two countries are, indeed, so much alike, that one is perpetu- 
 ally prompted to inquire wherein consists the difference. This he 
 will endeavour to do with as little partiality for his own as is con' 
 sistent with that ardent patriotism which is the common attribute 
 of Americans, a feeling of nationality inherited with the laws, the 
 language, and the manners of the country from which we derive 
 our origin, and which is sanctioned not less by the comparison of 
 the blessings we enjoy with those of other lands, than by the 
 promptings of good feeling and the dictates of good taste. 
 
 It is, perhaps, but fair to admit, that the author did set out with some 
 feeling of animosity towards England — a feeling engendered in his 
 bosom by the calumnious depreciation of his own country by British 
 writers, actuated by the desire, through the misrepresentation of 
 our institutiong and national character, to promote their own personal 
 interests, or react in the interest of conservative principles upon 
 public opinion at home. From the perusal of their works, which 
 he very naturally assumed to be the prevailing sentiment of Eng- 
 land towards his country, he had been led to feel some measure of 
 ill-will towards England in return. This, however, has yielded 
 almost entirely to his own personal observation. If, indeed, a jea- 
 lousy towards America, growing out of the recollection of that war 
 which resulted in our independence, and which, having been buo- 
 cessful on our side, has left us without any feeling of rooted dissa- 
 tisfaction, be, as it certainly is, a prevailing feeling among some 
 classes of Englishmen so remarkable for their inveterate egotism, it 
 is, on the contrary, pleasing to observe that the more elevated and 
 enlightened look to our growth and prosperity with a liberal and 
 kindly interest, the more creditable to those who entertain it, that 
 they have most to dread from the influence of our example. 
 
 The author found, moreover, that there was so much identity 
 between his own country and that which he was visiting, that it 
 was not easy to hate the one without also hating the other. Hence 
 the patriotism, which made America dear to him, prompted him 
 to love England : for, after all, we are ourselves but Englishmen in 
 another hemisphere. We are only different editions of the same 
 wor]E ; in America plain, useful, and got up with lomethiug mor« 
 
PBEFACB. YU 
 
 of the spirit of the age, while in England, though the common typ^ 
 be mean and defaced, yet is the volume pleasing to peruse, rich as 
 it is with antique blazonry and illumination. He has found, indeed 
 a pleasure, to describe, in the observation of so many objects con- 
 nected with the early history of our race, and in offering his homage 
 at a thousand sites hallowed by the consecrating associations of ge< 
 nius and heroism. 
 
 He cannot help feeling that there is in the two countries un« 
 bounded motive to mutual pride, instead of any incentive to jea- 
 lousy. America may look with well-founded enthusiasm to the past 
 history and present greatness of the country from which she sprung . 
 and if there be any one achievement of which more than another 
 England has occasion to be proud, it is the planting of this vast 
 empire, so rapidly spreading itself over a noble continent, worthy 
 to be the lield of the most magnificeat experiments, and destined 
 to perpetuate her religion, her institutions, her literature, and her 
 laws, and to keep alive the memory of her greatness, of which its 
 own existence is the noblest monument, to the remotest ages. 
 
 The writer begs, then, at the outset, to be acquitted of any in- 
 jurious prejudices. In a professional point of view he has nothing 
 to gain by subserviency to parties; and his success and advance' 
 ment, depending wholly on himself, can neither be made nor mar- 
 red by men in power, while, a« for any reaction in his own country 
 to be brought about by the abuse of the institutions of England, 
 he is not aware that there is one native-born American among the 
 whole thirteen millions of our population, whom it would be neces- 
 sary to convert from any partiality towards buch institutions of the 
 mother-country as have been omitted in the construction of our 
 political system. 
 
 If the writer, in appearing before the public some years ago, had 
 occasion to express the well-grounded diflidence and distrust which 
 he felt for the fate of his performance, he may with still greater 
 reason, and with far deeper conviction, avow the misgivings which 
 at present disturb him. His work on Spain was written with the 
 same enthusiasm which attended the travels it described, and was 
 truly to him a labour of love ; the country, the climate, and the 
 people, all offering themselves with new and pleasing impressions 
 to hiB piad* and tinging hipi jm^ginatiQa with a romantic colouring 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 It was quite otherwise in England; the climate presented itself to 
 him at the most sombre season of the year, -wheii it was his fortune 
 first to visit it, under an aspect of more than usual gloom. He has 
 laboured, moreover, under restraints which did not fetter him in 
 writing on Spain, growing out of the circumstance that his work 
 would be likely to find readers in the country it described. This 
 consideration has hung upon his pen with a nightmare influence, 
 and driven him, in a great measure, from the description of that 
 which was most likely to prove of general interest. 
 
 There are two ways in which one might write of a country like 
 England : in the first place instructively, by the collection of mate- 
 rials and facts of a statistical and political nature, reasoning upon 
 the results they present, and indulging in comparisons; in the 
 second place amusingly, by describing whatever characters or events 
 of a private nature might pass under the observation of the writer, 
 and by serving up, for the public's money, details of conversations 
 incidents, and opinions which had been furnished to him without 
 price through the hospitality of his entertainers. For the first 
 method the author found himself unqualified by actual knowledge, 
 and by the taste to acquire it ; for the second, which has been so 
 successfully used by British writers on his own country, and with 
 scarce inferior profit by others on England, he felt that he had no 
 vocation. 
 
 It only remained for him, then, to take a middle course, and 
 attempt to describe the popular manners such as he had opportu- 
 nities to observe them in his condition as an ordinary traveller. 
 He thinks he has satisfied himself that these do not present, in 
 England, that picturesque character necessary to furnish materials 
 for amusing description, or at any rate that he does not possess the 
 power of appreciating them. Writing without enthusiasm con- 
 cerning that which he saw with apathy, his work appears to him- 
 self, as it will doubtless do to the reader, a most laborious perform* 
 ance, in which a minuteness of description which might have 
 pleased, if directed to objects of such general and prevailing in- 
 terest as the peculiarities of society sarcastically described, has been 
 wasted upon subjects which possess little interest. The result of 
 this up-hill journey is before the reader, and, however distasteful it 
 may prove to him, his feeling of aversion can Bcaroe exceed tha 
 with which the author now takes leave of it. 
 
THE 
 
 AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 / THE VOYAGE. 
 
 Departure from New-York. Scenes in the Bay. Leaving the Land. Survey 
 of the Ship. Night View in scudding before a South-wester. The Watch on 
 Deck. Hard Life of Merchant Sailors. Review of Ship's Company. 
 
 It was a beautiful autumn morning, being the 1st of Novem- 
 ber, 1833, when I found myself, at the hour of ten, punctual 
 to the announcement of the newspapers, on board the steamer 
 Hercules, which was in attendance on the ship in which I had 
 taken passage for Loudon. A number of friends had gathered 
 there to greet me with their parting good wishes and hopes 
 for an agreeable and speedy passage, and the effort which I 
 WHS obliged in decency to make to listen to their conversation 
 and reciprocate their kindness, checked the indulgence of those 
 regrets with which I was leaving my home. 
 
 The steamer was crowded with the friends of the pas- 
 sengers, cabin and steerage, a motley group, conspicuous 
 among whom stood our captain, who was about to become 
 BO important a personage to us. He was taking leave of 
 friends, attending deferentially to the last behests of owners 
 and consignees, watching over the due arrangement of cer- 
 tain packages, letter-bags, and more interesting heaps of 
 beef, mutton, and poultry, reserving however a more peculiar 
 
10 THE AMERICAN IN BNG^LAND. 
 
 care to a chronometer, which he carried suspended in a hand- 
 kerchief. The moment the steamer reached the ship's side, 
 she was there stoutly secured by hawsers. The bars which 
 had been lying against the windlass were shipped, and a 
 dozen or more jolly tars, headed by a stout, boatswain-look- 
 ing second mate, rose upon them with the energy of strong 
 bodies and stout hearts, making the palls of the windlass 
 rattle as they hove round, and the whole harbour resound 
 with the long-drawn and monotonous, yet not unpleasing 
 song with which they accompanied and gave concert to their 
 labour. 
 
 Our anchor was soon apeak; the steamer started her 
 engine, and we moved boldly ahead, despite the flood tide 
 which was still running. My native city, with its bay, its 
 islands, and charming environs, had never worn a more at- 
 tractive aspect than now that I was prepared to leave it, with 
 regret that I had never before experienced. It was the begin- 
 ning of that delightful season known among us as the Indian 
 summer, and the weather was beautifully still and calm ; the 
 smoke from the city and the countless steamers that were 
 everywhere urging their busy way and disturbing the calm 
 waters with their bustling passage, rose in perpendicular 
 threads toward the sky ; while four other packet-ships were 
 lying over their anchors, their sails set, and ready to weigh 
 with the first of the ebb. The small craft bound in the direc- 
 tion of the tide suffered themselves to be borne lazily along, 
 while those to which it was unfavourable, with jib down and 
 peak of the mainsail dropped, were riding at their anchors. 
 Farther up the Hudson the sloops were bounding merrily 
 along, under the influence of a western breeze which was 
 beginning to blow. Not a cloud was anywhere to be seen ; 
 yet a light haze, which hung over the shore and water, and 
 which the diminished energy of the wintry sun had not yet 
 dispersed, gave a tempered and melancholy beauty to the pic- 
 ture which was in harmony with my feelings. 
 
 I took a farewell look at the city, with its encircling forest 
 
of maBts; at the Battery, with its trees and promenades, the 
 spires which rose in every direction, and the dark and vener- 
 able steeple of old Trinity ; at Brooklyn, smirking in taste- 
 less finery ; at Hoboken and Weehawken, fringed with their 
 forest treea and variegated foliage; at the beautiful bay, 
 whose still waters spread in glassy smoothness on every side, 
 and at the islands with which it was so picturesquely studded. 
 The vigorous efforts of the Hercules — well deserving the 
 name — soon brought us to Staten Island and the Quarantine 
 Ground, with its fleet of ships, and the Narrows quickly 
 closed behind us, shutting the city from our view, as we en- 
 tered the broad bay into which the Hudson, Passaic, and 
 Raritan, pour the mingled tribute of their waters. A light 
 breeze had now sprung up; we made sail, and when all was 
 well, trimmed sharp, and we found ourselves heading up for 
 the Swash Channel, the steamer cast off, and, greeted by 
 three hearty cheers from the friends of the steerage pas- 
 sengers, who had accompanied them thus far, charging them 
 with thousands of parting messages to friends in the old 
 countries, we were at length abandoned to our own efforts. 
 
 The tide was now strong under our lee, and the bar at the 
 mouth of the harbour, with lighthouse and beacons, was soon 
 behind us. A vexatious delay of an hour in getting rid of the 
 pilot, whose boat was not at hand, put our captain, who 
 seemed to have more than an American's share of the spirit of 
 despatch, quite in a passion. This was increased by the 
 clumsy way in which the young pilot, who was evidently a 
 new hand, managed the ship ; he got her twice in irons, and 
 going astern at a famous rate, while endeavouring to lay her 
 to. At length, however, the beautiful Trimmer was seen 
 emerging from the harbour; she came swooping along like a 
 wild bird, rounded to under our lee, and, taking the pilot off 
 in her little cockle-boat, which skimmed as lightly over the 
 waters as herself, hurried away in another direction. The 
 pilot bore with him our letters and latest adieus, and we had 
 taken a final leave of our country. 
 
12 THE AM:^llIdAN tN fiN^LAND. 
 
 And now the captain, relieved from the temporary suspen* 
 sion of his authority in his own ship, joyfully resumed the 
 command, issuing, in a manly, distinct voice, which carried 
 obedience with it, a few necessary orders ; the sailors, sensi- 
 ble of the propriety of each, and tired of wasting their labour, 
 fsprang with alacrity to obey. The ship was soon under com- 
 plete command, fell off to her course, the yards were trimmed, 
 the studding-sails set, and she bounded joyfully forward. 
 
 Meantime the mate and sailors busied themselves in securing 
 every thing for sea. The anchors were got on the bows, the 
 cables unbent and paid below, the fenders hauled in, the ropes 
 coiled clear for running, and every thing that could be moved 
 from its station by the lurching of the ship, securely lashed. 
 The breeze blew fresh, and we skimmed rapidly along, and 
 the ship soon began to dance to the unequal and rolling sur- 
 face of her appropriate element. Those who had been long 
 enough on sliore to lose their sea-legs, or who had never been 
 anywhere else, now began to cling for support to the rails and 
 belaying' pins. The Highlands were soon lost in the distance, 
 and the shores of Long Island also grew dim and mingled 
 with the sea; and the only remaining objects for the attention 
 to fix on without, were the other packets following in our 
 track, a few vessels making for the port, and the vast ocean 
 whose depths we were rushing forth to explore. 
 
 Our ship, thus isolated, began to assume a new consequence 
 in our eyes. I measured her extent, to be for some weeks the 
 limits of our little world ; scanned her sails and rigging, which 
 were rather in a tattered condition, with a seaman's eye ; 
 looked to the physiognomy of each sailor and fellow-passen- 
 ger ; took a glance of observation at sundry pigs and sheep, 
 and a nautical cow without horns, which was on her fourth 
 voyage, and which was, with the rest, very comfortably housed 
 in the longboat, with the joUyboat inverted over their heads 
 for a shed ; and, finally, made some progress in studying the 
 character of a bear, which was to find her home on the main 
 hatch until transferred in England to the menagerie of some 
 
THE VOVAGfi. 13 
 
 noble, weary of herding with his kind, or to form the jjoetic 
 appendage of some yacht, or perchance to figure as bowman 
 in the gig of a dandy young captain of one of Ilis Majesty's 
 frigates. Bruin was stretched «pon her back, scratching her- 
 self with a truly feminine grace, and grinning with the plea- 
 sure of her sensations. I felt the muscles of my own face 
 gradually losing their stern contraction, and relaxing into a 
 sympathetic grin, which seemed a sort of treachery to the 
 friends I was leaving. 
 
 My eye, in glancing round, next caught sight of a pleasing 
 group, consisting of sundry stout sirloins of beef and haunches 
 of mutton, garnished with occasional turkeys, geese, and game, 
 which were hanging from the mi/en stay, and which, when 
 fresh from the comforts of breakfast and the sorrows of part- 
 ing, had attracted less of my attention. My stomach, upon 
 which I happened just then to place my hand, felt lean and 
 hollow, and I began to doubt whether part of my malaise did 
 not proceed from the circumstance, when the appropriate 
 ringing of the dinner-bell, and the joy which it occasioned 
 within me, convinced me that such was the fact. As I di- 
 rected my steps towards the companion-way, my eye caught 
 a last glimpse of the Highlands, trembling in the horizon ; the 
 dark fringe of trees that crested them, seen but occasionally, 
 as the sliip mounted on the top of a higher wave, and beauti- 
 fully illumined by the last rays of the autumnal sun, then 
 sinking behind them, and playing in a line of golden light on 
 the broken billows which danced and lifted their Avhite caps 
 between. 
 
 Just then, as I was threatened with a new access of senti- 
 ment, one of the most uncivil of these billows overtaking us, 
 and swashing rudely against the mi/zenchannels, sent a whole 
 bucketful of spray into my face. Unaccustomed as I had been 
 in the larger vessels, in which I had sailed of late, to be thus 
 unceremoniously boarded on the hallowed region of the quar- 
 ter-deck, this seemed to me quite a superfluous piece of im- 
 j)ertinence. The remains of my sentiment were at once washed 
 
14 THB AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 away; and, not minding a little honest salt water, I betook 
 myself forthwith to the substantial comfortings of the repast, 
 which I found smoking on the cabin table. 
 
 Dinner was over ; tea and conversation had followed ; the 
 evening was already far advanced, and I began to yield to the 
 sleepy sensation which the familiar roll of the sea inspired. 
 Before turning in I ascended to the companion-way, to breathe 
 the fresh air, and see what progress we were making, and took 
 my st£rtion on the taffrail, near the helmsman. Familiar as I 
 was with the sight of ships in every possible situation, I was 
 much struck with the beauty of the scene. We were tearing 
 along at a fearful rate ; the sails were bellying and straining 
 to the extent of the sheets which held them, under the in- 
 fluence of what is called a smoky south-wester, unaccompanied 
 by a single cloud, but with a pervading and heavy haze, by 
 which the horizon was circumscribed to narrow limits, and 
 through which the moon, just then rising beneath the foot of 
 the foresail, and slightly shorn in its orb, was struggling to 
 reveal itself, shining dim and murky. The sea was agitated 
 and broken into short but yawning ground-swells, into which 
 the ship plunged and surged violently, trembling with the op- 
 posing action of the two elements by which she was driven 
 and restrained ; now settling her stern into the trough of the 
 sea, now overtaken by a succeding billow, rising proudly on 
 its crest, and dashing the white and sparkling foam far away 
 on either side. 
 
 At dark our studding-sails had been hauled in, and made 
 up as the breeze increased ; the mizen topgallant-sail had been 
 furled, and the mizzen top-sail reefed ; but the spanker, that 
 worst of all sails in a strong quartering breeze, was still set, 
 acting as a powerful lever to force the bow into the wind. 
 The steersman was standing, with every muscle stiffened, 
 against the wheel, giving the ship the full force of the helm as 
 the quartering seas struck rudely against her counter; then 
 relaxing his hold, and allowing the wheel to spin freely round 
 as she fell off toward her course. 
 
THE VOYAaE. 15 
 
 I readily recognised our helmsman to be a collier, and a North 
 of England man, a smasher, as they are called in the service. 
 He was quite a handsome youth, with light curly hair, but a 
 sooty complexion, stained in the coal trade. He was charac- 
 teristically clad in a rough peajacket, a pair of trousers tight- 
 ened round his waist with* a leathern belt, from which de- 
 pended a long sheath-knife, while his head was surmounted 
 by a huge canvass cap, having a long apron behind, which 
 was confined by a rope-yam nettle beneath his arms, so as to 
 exclude all streams of water from the back of his neck, 
 which is much the most sensitive part of a sailor's person. 
 The whole was thoroughly stiffened with tar and pitch, which 
 with true nautical forethought, our youth had doubtless daubed 
 on as often as a bucket of either passed through his hands in the 
 duty of the ship. This famous head-gear, borrowed from the 
 coalheavers in England, is now in general use among all nau- 
 tical worthies, who have adopted it under the name of a south- 
 wester, which made it peculiarly applicable to the breeze be- 
 fore which we were staggering . 
 
 Just forward of the mizzen rigging stood the mate ; he was 
 holding on to a belaying-pin to steady himself ; eying the wind 
 keenly ; glancing knowingly at the sails ; and, as their leeches 
 occasionally lifted, giving his orders to the helmsman, which 
 were promptly re-echoed. One other of the watch might be 
 seen sitting on the windlass, and leaning against the bithead. 
 This was the look-out, stationed there to see that we should 
 run nothing down, and to strike the bells. He was beguiling 
 the time with a doleful song, aword.of which reached us from 
 time to time above the noise made by the dash of the ship 
 through the water, and the whistling and the roar of the 
 wind through the blocks and rigging, and against the sails. 
 The rest, sheltered from the blast under the lee of the hurri- 
 cane-house, and nestling snugly like a litter of pigs, were 
 singing in a low tone, as became their proximity to the captain 
 and his fellow-nobs of passengers, some rude ditty, that told 
 of hapless or happy loves with Sues and Nancys, in which all 
 
16 THE AAFEKICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 joined in a suppressed and melancholy moan at the burden : 
 or listening to some older worthy as he told of toils at sea; 
 anchors broken, or cables parted in road-steads ; stranding upon 
 rocks and (juicksands ; ships run down, and masts gone by the 
 board; or dwelling upon the more favourite theme of rascally 
 usage from mates and captains ; and long-shore vengeance 
 wrecked upon that unhappy scapegoat, the stcond dicky. 
 
 In the midst of this pastime they were startled and aroused 
 by a loud snorting, as if of some sea monsters immediately 
 beside them, proceeding from a noisy school of porpoises, 
 whose path we had crossed, and which immediately gave 
 chase to us. They came bounding joyously over each other; 
 sometimes leaping from the very crest of a wave far into the 
 air, and descending into the yawning trough below with a 
 plunge that sent forth a thousand sparkles. After playing 
 about our bows until they found we were no match for them, 
 and that there was to be no race, they suddenly wheeled off, 
 pushing their course in the direction of the wind, and by their 
 lively, joyful gambols, proclaiming, according to nautical 
 superstition, a continuation of the noble breeze before which 
 we were driving. 
 
 Our passage commenced under happy auspices; and for 
 three days we drove gayly before the wind, which hauled to 
 the north-west ; the fourth found us in the midst of the Gulf 
 Stream, which we were crossing oblii^uely. It was idle to 
 dream of passing this barrier without a blow; so on it came, 
 whistling from the cold north ; and we had nothing to do but to 
 roll our sleeves up to it; that is, get everything snug, and face 
 it boldly. The sky lowered, and the clouds flew low, dropping 
 an occasional sprinkling of rain. The current, ronning in an 
 opposite direction to the wind, produced a heavy, irregular sea, 
 which fre(iuently on board'of our deci)ly-laden ship, keeping the 
 deck constantly flooded. Between the larger waves innumer- 
 able miniature ones ruffled the intermediate space ; while from 
 their summits, at the eddies of the current, masses of water 
 were torn and driven along in whirlwinds of what the sailors 
 
THE VOYAGE. 17 
 
 call spoondrift. The scene of elemental strife was indeed 
 sublime. 
 
 Our ship was soon reduced to close-reefed top-sails and 
 foresail. The wind had drawn a-head, and our hitherto rolling 
 motion was exchanged for that fatal one to sea-sick stomachs, 
 the disturbing pitch of a head sea. (Jur sailors had a hard time ; 
 and often did the stroke of the handspike, three times repeated 
 over their heads, and the maliciously-pleased cry of the watch 
 on deck — " All hands to shorten sail !" " Hear the news 
 there!" Heave out!" "Show a leg!" call out the poor fel- 
 lows of the watch below, perhaps but an hour in their bunks, 
 after four hours of drenching and severe toil. Now, it was 
 one of our old sails, split, to be unbent, and another got up ; 
 now another reef in the topsails ; and now the mainsail to be 
 furled. The poor fellows would come crawling up, half clad, 
 or in the wet clothes of last watch, heated in the confinement 
 of the forecastle, and sickened by the stench from the cargo 
 and bilge-water, to encounter sudden damps of the cold wet 
 wind^ and remain aloft by the hour, tugging at the earings, or 
 contending with the rustling canvass, which, full and bagging 
 with the force of the hurricane, was struggling to keep free. 
 Splicing the main brace— that is, a glass of grog— when the 
 work was done, seemed, however, always to send them away 
 in a good humour and happy. 
 
 If, however, the watch below met with little compassion 
 from the watch on deck, they also met with less from me than, 
 as fellow-sinners, they ought to have done. I never awoke 
 at the striking of the bell and calling of the watch, without 
 tinding my regrets for the fellows who had to rouse out, swal- 
 lowed up in my pleasure at discovering that 1 was not of the 
 number. After nearly four years of watch keeping, it was 
 delightful to miss the tickled youngster of a midshipman, 
 overjoyed at having reached the end of his own watch, and 
 hardly waiting for the sound to get out of the bell, ere ho 
 would thrust forward his obtrusive lantern, with the welcome 
 
18 THE AMERICAN IN EN&LAND. 
 
 message — ''It is eight bells, sir!" "Four o'clock, sir!" or, 
 " All hands, sir !" "All hands to shorten sail, sir!" 
 
 After a day or two the wind again became fair, and we 
 started gaily forward. Our situation in the cabin was 
 comfortable and pleasant enough. Among the passengers 
 were two Americans besides myself; one of whom was an old 
 friend, besides being a great traveller and an agreeable com- 
 panion. There were two Englishmen : one a half-pay captain 
 in the army, who had served many years in India, whence he 
 had returned after having been severely wounded at the siege 
 of a town in Java, during the war with France and her de- 
 pendencies. He was gentlemanlike, unaffectedly kind- 
 hearted, and intelligent. His Eastern reminiscences, which 
 usually came out with the fumes of his cigar after din- 
 ner, were quite as amusing as a chapter of " The Younger 
 Son," with the advantage of having more the air of 
 truth. The other Englishman, though intelligent enough, 
 being a graduate of one of the universities, was far from 
 being equally agreeable ; he had a bad tone, and was not 
 so remarkable for gentlemanlike propensities as for the perti- 
 nacity with which he kept up the argument, the whole way 
 across the ocean, with the captain of the ship, upon the banal 
 subject of America and England ; Basil Hall, Mrs. Trollope, 
 and Cyril Thornton — I beg the last-named gentleman's pardon 
 for mentioning him in such company. Both these Englishmen 
 seemed to be staunch radicals in their own country, and decri- 
 ers of the clergy and aristocracy ; but the moment that our 
 captain, in the simplicity of his heart, would join their con- 
 versation and concur with them in opinion, both would turn 
 upon him, like man and wife against the ill -judging iuterferer 
 in a domestic quarrel. We had besides a philosophizing, free- 
 inquiring old Frenchman, who was always declaiming against 
 the state of education and society, and forming the most Uto- 
 pian picture of what was to be the condition of the world, 
 when the human mind should cease to be bewildered by the 
 false systems and theories that now fetter it. According to 
 
THE VOTA0E. 19 
 
 him, almost any individual mighty by proper teaching and ju- 
 dicious induction, be converted at will into a Scott, a Byron, 
 or a Pagannini. My other countryman was a young man just 
 beginning his travels ; a carroty-headed youth, who had no- 
 thing to recommend him except his modesty and unobtru- 
 siveness ; though these, as the world goes, are worth taking 
 note of. 
 
 Very few of the steerage passengers were at all visible 
 during the voyage, though, according to the captain's account, 
 they amounted to near forty. After a few days, indeed, some 
 of them began to muster up from their den of sea-sickness. — 
 They came forth haggard and pale, with long beards and un- 
 washed faces ; their clothes covered with straw, feathers, and 
 pitch from the deck. The women had a wretched, helpless, 
 squalid appearance, like chickens with the pip. One fellow 
 brought his wife up one fine day, and endeavoured to cure her 
 by trotting her about the deck. Instead of taking her arm in 
 his, he placed himself behind her, with one hand under either 
 arm, and thus steered her along with a certain low-lived Irish 
 grace. She was a tall, long-fingered, lank-haired lassie, in a 
 plaid cloak ; and I felt a most painful desire to possess Ho- 
 garth's pencil for a moment, that I might sketch her. 
 
 A few of the steerage passengers were Germans, returning 
 circuitously home, for the want of a direct conveyance ; they 
 had no wives but their long pendant pipes, to which they 
 seemed wedded. The rest were sturdy Englishmen. Some 
 were going home for the friends who had sent them on a 
 pioneering voyage ; others, happy fellows, for their sweet- 
 hearts, whom they found themselves in a condition to turn 
 into wives ; and there was one widow, whose husband had 
 fallen a victim to the bilious fever, or the cheap price of 
 whiskey, returning to find relief for her sorrows in the sym- 
 pathy of friends, or perhaps more solid consolation in the 
 shape of a second husband. Let me not forget to make 
 honourable mention of the white-headed little ragamuffin who 
 was working his passage, and who in this capacity had the 
 
20 THE AMEB^CAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 decks to sweep, ropes to haul, chickens and pigs to feed, the 
 cow to milk, and the dishes to wash, as well as all other jobs 
 to do that belonged to no one in particular. As a proof of 
 good-will, he had chopped off the tails of a dandy, velvet- 
 collared, blue coat, with the cook's axe, the very first day out. 
 This was performed at the windlass bits, in full conclave of 
 the crew, and I suspected at the suggestion of a roguish man- 
 of-war's-man, a shipmate of mine. The tails were just cut 
 below the pocket-flaps, which gave them a sort of razee look ; 
 and, in conjunction with the velvet collar, made the oddest 
 appearance in the world, as he would creep, stern first, out of 
 the longboat after milking the cow. Blow high or blow low, 
 the poor boy had not time to be sea-sick ; sometimes he would 
 get adrift in the lee scuppers, and roll over in the water, 
 keeping fast hold of the plates he Avas carrying to the galley. 
 The only day that the poor lad wore a bright face, was that 
 on which we anchored in Portsmouth. 
 
 Such was our ship's company ; and with the little interest 
 that their society afforded, the time wore heavily enough. 
 Like most idle men, we found our most interesting pastime in 
 the pleasures of a well-provided table. The lapse of time, 
 with us, was measured entirely by our meals. These were no 
 fewer than four in number, or five, if we may be allowed to 
 count our midnight assemblage around a dish of baked apples, 
 which gave the mercy-stroke to our gastronimic capacities ; 
 and all this in a single day, or rather in less : for as we were 
 five hours ahead of the New- York time on our arrival in Eng- 
 land, it followed that we daily threw overboard a considerable 
 portion of the twenty-four hours, into which the days of those 
 happy people who can remain (juiet are regularly divided. In 
 the evening, a game of whist or chess lent its friendly aid in 
 relieving the load of existence. 
 
THE CHANNEL, 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CHANNEL. 
 
 riuike Sou\uling3. Land. Escape from running down a brig. St. Alban'* 
 Head. The Pilot. Isle of Wight. British hardihood exemplified by a 
 Pilot. The Needles. Animated spectacle in entering the harbour. Anchor 
 near Spithead. The Navarin and Skipper Sam. Fate of the missing Pilot. 
 
 On the sixteenth day out we struck soundings on European 
 bottom, and in two more a continuation of the same bree/.e 
 would have placed u« in port ; but there it left us, and 
 during two davs^ we beat about to no purpose against a light 
 east wind. On the third the good old .south-wester came 
 quietly stealing over the water ; it was a whole twent^'-four 
 hours in acquiring force. During the two days of light 
 weather, the number of vessels pouring into the Channel had 
 become considerable. As the breeze freshened in the after- 
 noon, they gradually dropped astern, all except an English 
 gun-brig, a King's packet, which bravely held her way. In 
 the afternoon the English coast was indistinctly seen, and as 
 the night advanced, the brilliant lights on the Lizzard pierced 
 through the gloom and mist. 
 
 As the night advanced, tlio wind still freshened to a gale. 
 We were going along at a rapid rate, and the chances of our 
 getting in the next day amounted nearly to a certainty. The 
 baked apples had been discussed, and we had all turned in 
 unusually cheerful, when we were aroused by a violent com- 
 motion on deck. I was just dropping asleep, when the words 
 '* hard to starboard ! hard to starboard !" quickly repeated iu 
 the voice of the mate, and in a simultaneous chorus by the 
 whole watch, with an energy that showed there could be no 
 time to lose, convinced me that we must be in imminent 
 danger of running down some other vessel. I leaped at once 
 upon deck, and ascended the mizzen rigging, to see what the 
 chances were. Our ship had rounded to a little, bringing the 
 
22 THE AMERICAN IN ENeLAND. 
 
 wind on the larboard quarter, and was breaking through the 
 agitated waves at a fearful rate. From the gloom just clear 
 of our starboard bow was emerging a large, heavily-laden 
 brig, under low sail. She had borne away a little, bringing the 
 wind abeam, and increasing her headway. We cleared each 
 other perhaps six or eight yards. Had she been discovered 
 a little later ; had any hesitation occurred as to the use of the 
 helm ; or had our-wheel-ropes which had broken no fewer than 
 four times on the passage, failed us at that moment, we 
 should have gone through the brig in an instant, scarcely 
 having time to hear the cries for aid sent up by the drowning 
 men ere they were far behind ; and whatever might have 
 been our own fate, theirs, at least, would have been inevi- 
 table. The danger we had escaped, and the increased force of 
 the wind, of which, in rounding to, we were made sensible, 
 imposed the wholesome idea of greater caution. The hand- 
 spike was heard striking three times on the forecastle ; " All 
 hands ahoy!" was the cry that followed. Our topsails were 
 close reefed, with many a plaintive " ho, heave ho !" as they 
 tugged at the struggling canvass; the mainsail too was 
 furled; and though our rate seemed little diminished, the 
 ship was under more commanding sail to haul by the wind, 
 should other vessels be seen ahead; as indeed actually oc- 
 curred several times during the night. On our arrival we 
 heard that the Canada, the packet preceding us, had ruu 
 down an English brig in the night, whose captain was 
 knocked overboard and drowned. Encounters of this sort are 
 necessarily very common in so frequented a sea, where the 
 weather is so often thick. Our packets, which run in all 
 weathers, and never heave to, are especially liable to acci- 
 dents of this nature ; and it is a curious commentary upon 
 the received opinion in England, — by which the people seek 
 to console themselves for that superiority in model, equip- 
 ment, and speed, which it is not easy to deny to us, in insist- 
 ing, that if our ships are handsomer, theirs are strongest,— 
 that in all these encounters, Brother Jonathan passes as if no- 
 
THE CHANNEL. 23 
 
 thing had happened to him, and John Bull goes nnifonnly to 
 the bottom. 
 
 The next morning saw me up betimes. As it dawned to- 
 ward eight we discovered land, — Saint Alban's Head, — indis- 
 tinctly seen through the drizzling rain, and the clouds which 
 I htmg low and heavy around us. It rose rather boldly, and 
 was of a white or grayish colour, which contributed to ren- 
 der it indistinct. These were the chalk cliffs of Old England, 
 characteristically ushered in amid clouds, rain, a hurricane of 
 wind, and an all-pervading gloom. Ere long we could discover 
 Corfe Castle, Poole, and Christ Church on our left ; and pre- 
 sently the Isle of Wight was seen breaking through the gloom, 
 the bold, naked point of the Needles standing in strong relief 
 far above the horizon. 
 
 It was blowing so very fresh that the captain feared we 
 might not find a pilot-boat at sea. However, we soon dis- 
 covered one ahead, and a few minutes placed us alongside of 
 him. She was a short, black, clumsy, and misshapen craft as 
 it was possible to see ; cutter rigged, with an immense pro- 
 truding bowsprit, and huge mainboom. She was under close- 
 reefed sails, yet floundered about at a famous rate, throwing 
 the water up to the head of her mainsail. As we hove to 
 with our head in shore, she came under our lee, with her jib 
 sheet to windward, and launched a light boat overboard, in 
 which two men presently put off for us, leaving only one to 
 take care of the cutter, a vessel of thirty tons or more. They 
 soon reached our side, jumped on board, and hauled their boat 
 up on our deck. We then bore up, and the pilot-boat fol- 
 lowed. The chief of the two, who took charge of the ship, 
 was a stout, hale, hearty Englishman, frank in manners, and 
 j free of speech ; he was neatly as well as comfortably clad, 
 j having on his head a broad-brimmed glazed hat, with blue 
 I jacket, with the buttons of the Royal Yacht Club, he being 
 I master of one of the yachts during the sailing season in sum- 
 I mer. Over his blue trousers he had a pair of uncommonly 
 , thick hose, which he said he had bought in Sicily some years 
 
24 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 before when on board of a nobleman's yacht: and out sida of. 
 all a pair of formidable fisherman's boots, in which the whole 
 of his legs were swallowed up. His companion was a smaller 
 and much less distinguished looking personage. He too had 
 on a glazed hat and blue jacket, somewhat the worse for 
 wear, with a pair of equally formidable boots, although their 
 dimensions might not be so well estimated, as they disap- 
 peared altogether beneath the canopy of an immense over-' 
 hanging petticoat of tarpaulined canvass, which was secured 
 at his waist with a drawing-string and strap of leather. 
 
 The course being given to steer by, we immediately laid 
 siege to the pilot, to extract such items of news as he might 
 have to communicate. The most interesting by far was that 
 of the unexpected return of Captain Ross. The King of Spaiq. 
 was dead; matters, according to his account, too, were not 
 going on very well in England : there was the old story of 
 hard times, and worse to come. We had already made some 
 progress ; the bleak point of the Needles reared itself boldly 
 before us ; its bald precipitous side of white chalk seeming to 
 offer a stout yet ineffectual obstacle to the waves that tore it ; 
 and the breakers on the reef which forms the opposite boun- 
 dary to the entrance of the harbour, sheltered by the Isle of 
 AVight, were beginning to be seen in a broad expanse of shat- 
 tered and broken waters. Our pilot just then discovered that 
 the Danish schooner which was following us, had hoisted a 
 signal for a pilot at her fore. He consulted a moment Avith 
 his comrade, and then gave orders to put the helm down, and 
 launch the little cockle which had brought him on board : 
 saying at the same time, there was no reason why a Yankee 
 fthould have two pilots and the Dane none at all. It was 
 now blowing a hurricane: the sea was running short and 
 (piick, with a combing wave and driving spray ; and I could 
 scarcely credit my senses when I saw a single individual step- 
 ping quietly and calmly into a boat, about twelve feet long, to 
 put forth alone in such an uproar of the elements. Yet this 
 was actually done by our little pilot in the tarpaulin petticoat. 
 
THE CHANNEL. £5 
 
 He did not leave the side, however, until he had secured the 
 customary fee of a piece of salt pork from the harness-cask, 
 and a bottle of whisky, which he uncorked, smelt, and 
 from which he took a hearty, heaven-regarding quaflf. Hav- 
 ing carefully recorked and stowed it under the head 
 sheets, he now hauled in his painter, took to his oars, 
 and got the boat's head to wind ; pulling with a long and 
 steady stroke clear of the ship, and catching the stroke 
 quickly to prevent the boat's gathering steniboard. The 
 pilots both looked upon this feat of reckless hardihood as 
 a matter of course, but 1 felt sure that it was attended with 
 great danger. I clambered to the poop, braced myself against 
 the mizzen rigging to prevent my being blown away, and 
 watched for the catastrophe with a painful interest. The 
 little egg-shell, scarce distinguished from the ducks that float- 
 ed around her, bore herself bravely ; head to wind she faced 
 each coming sea ; at one moment disappearing in the trough, 
 as if gone for ever ; in the next, mounting on the top of the 
 very spray which broke wildly from the crest of each wave. 
 
 The schooner, on discovering the boat, which we feared for 
 a time she might not do, hauled up for her. Presently after, 
 to the horror of all of us, she again bore up and passed to 
 leeward, following us in and depending upon our guidance^ 
 The only chance of safety for the poor fellow, who had thus 
 boldly perilled himself from a sense of duty, and for the sake, 
 of the honest gain on which he was dependant for his support, 
 now rested upon the bare possibility of his being seen by the 
 single individual who remained in the pilot-boat, and who 
 must already be sufficiently occupied by his absording and 
 l)erilous charge. If seen, too, the task of rounding to and 
 picking up the boat was not easy or unattended with danger. 
 The pilot-boat was now very far ast«rn ; we watched the too 
 reckless adventurer until the ej-'e grew weary, and then abau- 
 doned him to his fate with a fervent wish for-hia deliverance. 
 
 By this we began to open the Needles. They are a collec- 
 
|g TH£ AMfiRXC4l^ l£f SN6LAND. 
 
 tion of isolated chalk rocks^ which make out in a "^irestern di- 
 rection from the Isle ofvyight, and are so called from the cir- 
 cumstance of some of them being sharply pointed, others 
 being connected at the top, the ceaseless wash of the sea 
 forming an arch below, which the imagination, fruitful in dis- 
 covering similes between the fantastic shapes of nature and 
 the symmetric forms of artificial objects, and sometimes 
 puzzled for a name, has fancifully likened to the points and 
 eyes of needles. The bold cape from which these isolated 
 rocks made oflp, and from which they have evidently been 
 gradually broken, is called the Needle's Point. It rises per- 
 pendicularly five or six hundred feet from the sea, which, as 
 we passed, was madly dashing against its base, and sending 
 its waters far up the side. It is of a chalky white, and is al- 
 together one of the most remarkable and boldest headlands 
 in the world. To the left of the narrow passage through 
 which we were entering lay the dangerous reef called the 
 Bridge ; the sea, agitated by the full blast of an autumnal 
 gale, broke over it in a vast extent of the most terrific breakers 
 I had ever seen. Vast quantites of gulls, gannets, and sheer- 
 waters, driven in from sea, yet apparently delighting in the 
 scene of strife and uproar, contended aginst the gale, wheeled 
 in circling eddies, or allowed themselves to be borne before it 
 with the speed of lightning. As we flew by with almost 
 equal rapidity, the pilot gave, in a few sententious words, the 
 appropriate tale of the loss of His Majesty's schooner the 
 Nightingale, which had grounded some years before on the 
 Bridge. Turning to the right he pointed to the Needle's Point, 
 where, on the brink of the precipice, stood the lonely and 
 isolated light-tower ; and in the same breath related how, one 
 foggy morning, the keeper, having swallowed his morning 
 dram, walked off the edge. 
 
 We passed quite near Hurst Castle, a venerable ruin that 
 told of feudal times, and which, until the late reform, sent 
 two members to parliament. Its gray and time-worn sides 
 were finely contrasted "with the deep red of the two huge 
 
TH£ CHAl^NEL. 2^ 
 
 light-towers that rose beside it, and the neat appearance ot 
 the white and well-kept cottages of the lightmen and coast- 
 guard that clustered around it. Though the coast of England 
 lay but a couple of miles beyond, it was but indistinctly seen 
 through the lurid and driving clouds. Occasionally the spire 
 of a church or the tower of some ruined castle broke, 
 througli the gloom ; but the numerous towns that lined the 
 coast were not even momentarily seen. In return, we had Ji 
 full view of the Isle of Wight, which we passed at the dis-« 
 tance of a quarter of a mile ; from the Needle's Point, it} 
 stretched eastward in an uncultivated down, covered with a 
 short grass, which was still of a dusky green. The ridge it-, 
 self appeared, against the background of dark clouds, of a 
 singular regularity, defined as distinctly as a black line upon 
 paper, and broken by no other objects than the lighthouse and 
 beacon to guide ships in crossing the Bridge, and by a single 
 individual in a white shirt, who, as he strode along the sum- 
 mit of the hill, soared into the clouds in giant-like and pre-* 
 tematural relief. Here the chalk cliff changed its hues to yel-« 
 low, red, and purple ; and gangs of labourers were employed 
 in quarrying for a sand used in the manufacture of glass, and 
 said to be very valuable. 
 
 The succession of objects past which we were now hurried, 
 at a very short distance and a tremendous rate, furnished an 
 uncommonly spirited and gay spectacle. Yarmouth, New- 
 town, and Cowes, came and went like magic; these were 
 quickly followed by a continuous fleet of windbound ships, 
 which we passed within the toss of a biscuit — by pleasure- 
 yachts moored in the bays — gigs and fishing-boats lining the 
 strand — by Gothic churches rising at frequent intervals, the 
 venerable shrines of a pure and heart-felt religion — and by the 
 charming residences of a rich and most tasteful people. 
 There were beautiful cottages surrounded by hay-ricks, 
 hedges, and gardens ; French and P^lizabethan chateaux, with 
 formal walks and alleys; or admirable imitations of antique 
 castles over-run with ivy, yet filled apparently with all 
 imaginable comforts, and graced with the fair form of wo-* 
 
tf^, THE AMERICAN IN EN€(LAND. 
 
 man, gazing with rapture from the shelter and security of 
 the veranda, and from amid the plants and flowers that em- 
 bosomed her, upon the swift flight of our ship, the strife of 
 the elements, and the triumphs of man in commanding them. 
 
 We were to anchor on the Mother Bank, off Ryde, as fur- 
 nishing the most protected part of the admirable roadstead 
 formed by the Isle Wight. While yet three miles off we 
 commenced shortening sail and furling everj' thing, that we 
 might neither part nor drag when the anchor should be let 
 go. We still continued to run at the rate of eight knots, 
 under bare poles, and were soon off Ryde, where we rounded 
 to and let go the anchor. The chain rattled out at a 
 tremendous rate, to the great dismay of the steerage passen- 
 gers, all of whom had risen from the dead and come forth, 
 and of my old friend the bear on the main hatch. Presently 
 it was all out, and the ship brought up with a violent surge, 
 and swung round quickly to her anchor. 
 
 There was an immense fleet of the outward bound an- 
 chored in every direction around us. Two or three cruisers 
 and troop-ships lay, with housed masts and yards pointed to ' 
 the wind, in the roadstead of vSpithead, and a mile beyond 
 was the town of Portsmouth; its rusty steeples, and the 
 fortifications which protect its harbour, indistinctly seen 
 through the storm. A number of diminutive steamers were 
 struggling slowly against the wind, in the direction of Ryde, 
 Yarmouth, or Southampton; and a small cutter, having an 
 American ensign stopped in her rigging, was seen standing 
 towards us. This was the vessel belonging to the packet 
 agents, which they were sending off for our passengers and 
 letter-bag. She was called the Navarin, a very trim little 
 craft, of which I had heard a great deal on the passage, as 
 well as of her skipper, the son of one of the agents, a semi- 
 nautical worthy by the name of Sam. She now passed under 
 our stern, bearing herself gallantly under her close-reefed 
 sails, and, luffing short round, came alongside and made fast 
 by the ropes which we threw to her. 
 
THE CHANNEL. 29 
 
 The Navarin and her skipper Sam seemed to be less at 
 home in this subordinate association with our overgrown 
 ship, than when moving about independently and on her own 
 account. Her jibs had been hauled down, but the mainsail 
 still fluttered violently in the gale, and the mainboom swung 
 about in a way very formidable to those who stood near it. 
 At every sea, bowsprit and bows went completely under, 
 sousing the sailors who trod the deck, while the intrepid 
 Sam, in danger of having his head knocked off* by the restless 
 boom, had taken refuge within the door of liis companion- 
 way, and seemed to lose all heart. He was a little urchin of 
 one-and-twenty or more, mounted ambitiously upon a pair of 
 enormously high-heeled boots, which served to make his foot- 
 ing at this time the more insecure. He had on a dandy blue 
 jacket, covered with buttons, which were meant to look 
 like those of the Royal Yacht Club, though instead of those 
 initials they bare the humble one of the American Packet 
 Service. An oil-cloth cap, and cloak of the same, which he 
 in vain struggled to keep round him, completed liis dress; 
 while a face beaming with good-nature towards others and 
 himself, and long locks of sandy hair depending at either 
 side to please the eyes of the Portsmouth syrens, formed the 
 ensemble of his appearance. 
 
 And now commenced the scene of desembarking our pas- 
 sengers ; as odd a one as could be well witnessed. The only 
 way to get into the cutter was by reaching from the channels of 
 the ship to her rigging, and descending along it. This was a very 
 simple matter to sea-going characters, but not so much so to 
 clumsy labourers and countrymen, who had moreover nearly 
 lost the use of their limbs by sea-sickness, confinement, and 
 inactivity. They would plant themselves in the channels, 
 hold on with both hands to our rigging, and with eyes half 
 shut through fear, stretch forth an exploring and ineffectual 
 foot in search of the rattlings of the Navarin's rigging, which 
 * would sometimes rise under them, and nearly turn them over. 
 They never would have got down if the sailors had not come 
 
30 THE AMERICAN IN ENGfLAND. 
 
 to their assistance, turned them round, guided their feet and 
 hands, and sometimes trundled them over. The baggage was 
 now sent down with as little ceremony ; slung in ropes, or 
 tossed from hand to hand ; a more beggarly assortment of 
 clothes and furniture could scarce be met with at an auction 
 in Saint Giles's. One box slipped from the slings upon deck, 
 just as the Navarin gave a desperate plunge and set her whole 
 deck afloat. The contents tumbled out, and were scattered 
 far and wide ; a dingy shirt or two, the leg of a pair of red 
 flannel drawers, the fragments of a green surtout, a broken 
 jar of brown sugar, which was quickly converted into salt 
 molasses, and sundry nails, and odds and ends of half-smoked 
 cigars, with some small articles of plunder picked up about 
 decks, which the second mate, had he not been better oc- 
 cupied, might have recognised and reclaimed. Part of our 
 cabin passengers landed at the same time, still preserving on 
 board of the Navarin their aristocratic advantages over the 
 humbler worthies of the steerage, who were stowed with the. 
 baggage in the hold, while they were conducted to the nar- 
 row closet which Sam dignified by the ambitious name of the 
 cabin. Being very desirous of seeing something of the inter- 
 mediate coast, and the navigation of the river, whose pilots 
 are so celebrated for their seamanship and dexterity, I deter- 
 mined to remain with the ship until she should reach London. 
 
 Our business at Portsmouth was soon over, and we were 
 ready to depart ; but such a hurricane as was then blowing, 
 with constantly increasing violence too, fumished'no fit mo- 
 ment to put to sea. The captain determined, therefore, to 
 remain in our present snug anchorage until the weather should 
 moderate. We were indeed very much disposed to thank our 
 good fortune that we were not still in the Channel, and to 
 appreciate the good sense of the pilot's remarks as to the 
 inestimable value to England of the Isle of Wight as a 
 breakwater, and the vast amount of life and property which 
 is annually saved from destruction by its happy position. 
 
 Our interest in the fate of the pilot who had so boldly put 
 
THE CHANNEL. 31 
 
 forth in the little boat to board the Danish schooner, though 
 it had been checked by our rapid run along the Isle of Wight, 
 and the swiftly-passing diorama of so many picturesque ob- 
 jects had not been forgotten. No sooner were we safe at 
 anchor than we began to follow the anxious looks of the pilot 
 in quest of his cutter, which was out of time. The individual 
 who embarked alone in the little boat was his brother in law ; 
 these two, with another brother, were joined in company, 
 owning the little craft among them. We were pleased soon 
 after to see her heave in sight, coming down from Cowes. 
 As she came on, however, the pilot's anxiety was greatly 
 excited in discovering, as she sheered a little, that the boat 
 which she towed astern was not the same one in which his 
 brother-in-law had embarked ; it was a new one, not yet 
 painted black, as all boats on the coasts of the United 
 Kingdom are required to be, in order to distinguisli them from 
 those of the preventive service, which alone are painted white* 
 JHe saw at once that the little boat must have been lost, and 
 that the cutter had stopped at Cowes for a spare one kept there 
 in readiness. The painful question now occurred, what had 
 become of the hardy fellow who had ventured forth in her? 
 Had he been passed without being seen by the cutter, and 
 left to exhaust his strength at ttife tfars in delaying the mo- 
 ment when the wind and tide would inevitably carry him 
 among the breakers ; or had he been run down in the danger- 
 ous attempt to pick him up, made by the single individual 
 left alone to manage so large a vessel in a gale of wind. 
 The fears of the pilot, in which we anxiously sympathized, 
 were soon relieved, by finding, as the cutter came nearer, 
 that the man was upon her deck, all life, and in possession of 
 the helm. Passing under our stem he hailed his companion, 
 to say that they had taken the boat in tow, and that she had 
 been swamped in the breakers, as they crossed the Bridge. 
 This was a loss of four or five pounds to these poor fellows, 
 which would swallow up nearly the whole gains of piloting 
 our ehip in. 
 
32 THE AMERICAN IN mi&LktfJ). 
 
 The ship being now snug, and the work done, the sailors 
 mustered round their supper on the forecastle, having previ- 
 ously been comforted with each a wine-glassful of rum dis- 
 pensed to them at the mainmast by the second steward ; while 
 we were summoned to discuss a saddle of mutton, with sun- 
 dry other good things, in the more comfortable, though per- 
 haps not happier, sanctuary of the cabin. The conversation 
 naturally turned upon the lost boat, for which we all agreed 
 that the Dane should, in justice, be made to pay. The pilot 
 said that all that could be got from him, when there was time 
 to look to the matter, was half pilotage for following us in. 
 He seemed to take the matter very philosophically ; *' There 
 must be losses as well as gains my masters, in all trades." 
 He added that the loss of a boat was a frequent occurrence to 
 them, with now and then a man ; and sometimes a cutter was 
 lost with all on board. They had lost as many as three small 
 boats in one winter. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PORTSMOUTH. 
 
 Sail to Portsmouth in the Navarin. Sensations on Landing. A Staf e-coach. 
 Dtmi and Appearance of the Population. Buildings and Shops. The invisi< 
 ble Dock -yard. Sailors on Shore. English Steamers. A Family Group. 
 
 On the morning after our arrival at Portsmouth the weather 
 had greatly moderated ; but as the distance to the entrance of 
 the Thames was only about one hundred and twenty miles, 
 the captain determined not to sail until the evening, so as to 
 have daylight in passing that part of the coast from Dungeness 
 to Margate, where there are some dangers to be avoided, and 
 where daylight is necessary to procure a pilot. 
 
 As we had the whole day before us, the captain proposed a 
 visit to the shore ; and we straightway embarked in the Nava- 
 rin, tinder the guidance of the doughty Sam, whose energies, 
 
PORTSMOUTH. 3^ 
 
 rising as the gale abated, were now quite equal to the manage- 
 ment of his craft. He had shaken out all his reefs, set his 
 largest jib, fidded his topmast, and carried the American en- 
 sign with a swagger at the truck, instead of hanging it with a 
 depressed and dishcloth air in the rigging. The old sailor, to 
 whom he had very willingly abandoned the honour and re- 
 sponsibility of command the day before, as he escaped from 
 the salt spray and the sallies of the mainboom to the protection 
 of the companion-way, was now again degraded to the condi- 
 tion of foremast hand, and turned upon the forecastle, while 
 the youthful skipper, i^erched upon his high-heeled boots, 
 grasped the helm with a knowing cock of the eye, and issued 
 his commands with the authoritative air of a newly-caught 
 midshipman. 
 
 A quick and pleasant sail brought us under the fortified point 
 of land which forms the entrance to the beautiful harbour of 
 Portsmouth. Here a number of convicts were at work ; many 
 of them wearing chains, which clanked as they moved along. 
 The entrance to the harbour being (juite narrow, offered a very 
 lively scene ; small steamers were arriving and departing ; 
 boats were crossing from the town to Gosport with passen- 
 gers; S(]uare-rigged and smaller vessels were entering or 
 beating out ; while in the harbour above, lay several cruisers 
 at their moorings. Among them was a stately three-decker, 
 which wore the flag of the admiral. It was Nelson's ship — 
 the ship which so nobly upheld the banner of England at Tra- 
 falgar, and bore the worthy and well-won name of the Victory. 
 
 We had scarce reached the neighbourhood of the shingle 
 beach which forms the landing-place, ere we were surrounded 
 by watermen anxious to turn an honest penny in carrying us 
 ashore. At the beach, another set of worthies ob8e(iuiou8ly 
 aided us to land, and offered their services in transporting our 
 luggage. Neither the captain nor 1 was in a condition to 
 need their services ; but we delivered up to their tender mer- 
 cies our young countryman, who had not landed the day be« 
 B 5 
 
34 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 fore ; his luggage was overhauled by the custom-house oflBcer 
 with somewhat less scruple for haying felt the touch of his 
 silver, and passed from one hand to another until it reached 
 the top of a stagecoach, which was waiting for him, and 
 where he hastened to place himself also, relieved in a very few 
 minutes of the weight of sundry sixpences and shillings, trans- 
 ferred to the greasy pouches of watermen, dock-rangers, and 
 coach-porters. Being a disinterested witness, and at leisure 
 to observe, I could not help smiling at the respectful courtesy 
 with which each claimant commended himself to the attention 
 of the suflferer, lifting his hat, and proffering the sententious 
 words, " Waterman, sir !" " Porter, sir !" ^'' Coach-porter sir !" 
 and contrasting it with the air of well-bred indifference with 
 which, when the demand was listened to and the sixpence 
 hidden, each turned away in search of other victims. 
 
 A ship careering proudly under a cloud of bellying canvass 
 is a noble object ; the ocean, with its vastness, its monotony, 
 its symmetric boundary, met by the blue dome of the over- 
 hanging heavens, its unfathomable depths, and the huge mon- 
 sters that alone have penetrated their unrevealed mysteries, is 
 full of sublimity and grandeur. But with what rapture do we 
 not ever exchange the ocean, with all its sublimity, and the 
 winged messengers by whose aid we are able to traverse it, 
 for the firm footing and the more varied spectacles of the land ! 
 More than a third of my life has passed upon the water, and 
 for years together I have never slept out of a ship ; yet, after 
 all, the land is the only place for life and for enjoyment ; but 
 the zest with which we regain it can only be appreciated by 
 those who have gone forth into the sea in ships ; and they only 
 can understand the interest and attraction with which the eye 
 reverts to a thousand familiar objects. The mariner will bear 
 witness with me to the sensation of almost delirious rapture 
 with which, after a long voyage and a familiarity with no 
 other odours! than those of the sea itself, or the staler exhala- 
 tions of the ship in which we traverse it, we first, even while 
 the land is as yet unseen, snuff the perfumes of meadows in 
 
PORTSMOUTH. $$ 
 
 temperate climes, or the aromatic gales which the land-breeze 
 wafts to us from some fair island within the tropics. 
 
 We had scarcely landed before our attention was taken up 
 by a battalion of foot soldiers, marching down to embark in 
 small boats for Gosport. Their well-drilled air, the high order 
 of their accoutrements, and the gaudy, flamingo-like glare of 
 their scarlet coats, with the fluttering of their colours, and 
 the clang of the martial music to which they marched, all 
 formed a spectacle on which I was for a moment arrested to 
 gaze ; but, after all, perhaps I was more delighted with the 
 appearance of the stage coach, in which my fellow^passengers 
 were just starting for London. The neat, graceful, compact 
 form of the pretty toy, the mettled and impatient air of the 
 shining and well-groomed horses, the high polish of the har- 
 ness, and admirable order and neatness of the whole affair, to- 
 gether with the stately and consequential air of the portly and 
 well-muffled coachman, as he ascended to his box with the 
 mien of a monarch seated himself upon his throne, all delighted 
 me while yet the vehicle was in repose. When, however, the 
 guard mounting behind called forth the characteristic *'A11 
 right !" and the stable-boys who held the horses had released 
 and abandoned them to their impatience, the whip cracked, 
 the wheels began to spin round, and the pavements to rattle, 
 while the veils of the fair occupants of the top of the coach 
 streamed out from the rapid motion, and the whole presented 
 an array of excited and happy faces, I thought the scene one 
 of the most spirited and striking that it was possible to be- 
 hold ; and the sensation with which I contemplated it worth 
 all the musings of sublimity with which, for want of some- 
 thing better, I had fed my imagination on the outward voyage. 
 
 Leaving the seaside, in the hope of escaping altogether for 
 an hour or two from nautical associations, we penetrated 
 into the town. In coming from America, the streets looked 
 narrow and confined ; the houses low, antiquated, contracted, 
 and ill built ; and the effect of the seacoal smoke, in connection 
 with an atmosphere in itself covered andbvercast, was gloomy 
 
36 THE AMERICAN IN fiNQLAND. 
 
 and depressing, aiding the influences of a temperature which, 
 though apparently not cold for the season, was raw and chil- 
 ling. The population did not, however, seem to suffer in 
 their health, or allow themselves to be depressed in spirits by 
 the action of any such causes as these. They were ruddy, hale, 
 and robust, and seemed very well satisfied with their climate and 
 their condition. IMany had breeches, stout woollen stockings, 
 and smock frocks ; and the variety of their costume was very 
 pleasing after the monotony so prevalent in America ; where, 
 bating some difference in texture and fashion, — less there 
 owing to the comfortable and independent condition of the 
 labouring classes, than in any other country, — all dress as 
 nearly as possible in the same way. The women wore cotton 
 gowns, gay-coloured handkerchiefs, warm cloaks, gipsy hats 
 of straw, and stout shoes, with clogs of wood or iron. These 
 were country people apparently who had come to town with 
 game, vegetables, worsted stockings, and other articles, which 
 they were selling in the squares and markets. There were, 
 too, a number of French women with eggs, who did not seem 
 to be in any particular favour with the beldames of the land. 
 Among the people of the better orders I fancied that I dis- 
 covered an air of greater health, larger size, fairer and finer 
 complexions, and a less saturnine expression of countenance. 
 Instead of the ease, independence, and proud carnage of the 
 republic, however, their demeanour seemed constrained and 
 formal, as if each were acting in imitation of some established 
 model. The women had better complexions and a brighter 
 look than those I had seen as I rode down Broadway to em- 
 bark ; but their figures were robust, ntahvart, and redundant 
 with large extremities, and [a determined and heavy tread, 
 their dress, too, was far less elegant and tasteful, and evinced 
 a less happy judgment in the selection and contrast of colours ; 
 still it had the appearance of being both appropriate and com- 
 fortable ; and the thick shoes, the heavy shawl, and circling 
 boa, seemed much more conformable to right reason and the 
 fitness of things than the silks, the lace, and feathers of our 
 
PORTSMOUTH. 37 
 
 light and tripping countrywomen. Upon the whole, these 
 had a sturdy, wholesome, substantial, enduring, and service- 
 able look, as contradistinguished from the somewhat too gos- 
 samer forms, the graceful carriage, and distinguished air of 
 the American fair. 
 
 As we strolled through the streets, I was struck with the 
 extreme neatness of the shops, and, on entering one or two to 
 purchase a few trifles, with the address, civility, and obliging- 
 ness of the shopmen ; though the conventional elo(iuence with 
 which they recommended their wares, and insisted on their 
 being precisely what the purchaser was in need of, however 
 respectful and obsequious, had in it something obtrusive and 
 impertinent. I found in England that it is not the practice to 
 enter shops, inspect goods, ransack shelves, and give much 
 trouble without purchasing, as is not unfrequently done in 
 America : a practice which argues more forbearance in the 
 shopman than consideration or sense of good breeding in hia 
 lounging and yawning visitor. 
 
 The shops here were nearly all open to the air, which was 
 an evidence of the mildness of the climate. Another point 
 which particularly distinguished them from those of America, 
 was the frequent occurrence of stalls of butchers, JBshmongers, 
 and poulterers ; which, in America, being all collected in the 
 public markets, are here, as on the continent, spread about at 
 intervals, with the same view to the advantages of position 
 and the supply of a neighbourhood as the shops of grocers or 
 hosiers. Whole sheep and calves hang up at the front of the 
 butcher's stalls, considerably curtailing the dimensions of side- 
 walks already sufficiently narrow ; and parts of dismembered 
 animals, joints, sirloins, and the inferior offal that announced 
 the food of the poor, were hung about on hooks within doors, 
 or suspended over the street. I never anywhere saw meat so 
 nicely prepared, though it looked so preposterously fat and 
 bloated that I fancied that the art which is still so extensive- 
 ly practised in France is not yet forgotten here, where it was 
 
38 THE AMERICAN IN EN&LAND. 
 
 well known in those days when the redoubted Talgol was 
 tauntingly told that — 
 
 *' Not all the pride that makes thee swell 
 As big as thou dost blown up veal," 
 
 would avail to save him from the ire of Hudibras. Though 
 the meat looked coarse and puffy, it seemed to possess the 
 rudiments of life and restoration, to judge of its effects upon 
 the dispenser of these wares ; in almost every case, a hale, 
 hearty, round, and cheerful -looking personage, in well-filled 
 top-boots, neat apparel, and scrupulously clean apron, from 
 whose drawing-string depended a shining knife and steel. 
 There was something in the portly size, the rosy rubicund 
 hue, and the cheerful, whistling, hey-day air of each and all of 
 these worthies, which seemed to illustrate very conclusively 
 the relative advantages of meat and vegetable diets. A well- 
 drawn "figure of one of these worthies, and of a lean, thread- 
 bare, and attenuated peasant of Erin's unhappy isle, would 
 serve as no bad or unfair personification of Mr. John Roast- 
 beef and plain Pat Potato. 
 
 The fishmongers' stalls also made a very attractive appear- 
 ance. The fish, lobsters, and neatly-washed oysters were 
 displayed on clean stone slabs, inclined to the street, so as to 
 expose the commodity to the cusj;omers, and carry off the 
 water with which it was frequently refreshed. The poulterers 
 also suspended their wares most temptingly within and with- 
 out their shops. They consisted chiefly of hares, partridges, 
 and pheasants with very rich plumage and long tail-feathers ; 
 also of venison, turkeys, geese, and chickens, prepared for the 
 broach, or partially divested of their feathers from the breast 
 and bodies, and left with their wings and heads untouched. 
 Having just landed from a three weeks' voyage, which had 
 been passed in demolishing, and then, to prolong the pleasure, 
 discussing tlie merits of real wild game from a wild country, 
 and of the best flavoured poultry and provisions, and which 
 in short had been devoted wholly to gastronomy, I did not 
 
PORTSMOUTH^ 39 
 
 contemplate the spectacle of these edible appliances with all 
 the rapture that I might have done in other passages of my 
 life, and at the termination of other voj-^ages in far distant 
 seas, where I had been half starved for months together. I 
 could, however, well sympathize in the yearning and vora- 
 cious glances with which some young midshipmen, just 
 landed from a newly-arrived cruiser, whose sunburnt coun- 
 tenances, contrasting with the light locks of England, pro- 
 claimed them wanderers from some torrid clime, eyed these 
 treasures of good cheer. They seemed to have but little ad- 
 miration to spare for the fresh and blooming faces of their 
 passing countrywomen ; though this indifference was not 
 unlikely to give place to more ardent feelings in their sub- 
 Bequent walks, after they should have provided for the comfort 
 and refreshment of their inner man at the George Inn, which 
 they now entered under the guidance of the oldest of the 
 party, round whom the younkers rallied, and who peemed 
 chosen to act as commodore in the land cruise on which they 
 had so heartily and so adventurously set out. 
 
 Strolling along the ramparts of the town, we caught some 
 glimpses of the surrounding country. It was flat and mono- 
 tonous for some miles, until bounded by a line of chalk hills 
 of no great height. The whole expanse was divided into 
 small fields, carefully separated by hawthorn hedges, out of 
 which grew at intervals an occasional elm-tree. Some were 
 still green with grass, others elaborately cultivated, and 
 clothed in every direction with white cottages, surrounded 
 by stacks of hay and com, or with tasteful villas, of forms 
 as various as individual caprice could suggest. 
 
 Though very anxious to see the Dock-yard, I did not, of 
 course, attempt to gain admittance. All persons entering it 
 are required to record their names and places of residence at 
 the gate ; and foreigners are only allowed the privilege in 
 virtue of a specific order from the Admiralty. Such is the 
 vigilant yet ineffectual jealousy with which England watches 
 over all that pertains to her waning dominion on the ocean ; 
 
40 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 and those wooden walls which extend the arm of her power 
 everywhere to the remotest seas, and display her proud ban- 
 ner flauntingly and disdainfully in the eyes of an overawed 
 world. If there were any thing new in the science of naval 
 war in England, a single month would, in this age of pub- 
 licity, reveal it to the whole world. The power of the 
 British navy consists in the vast collection of materials, the 
 number of her ships, in the skill and experience of her officers, 
 and the excellence of her seamen, nurtured in a commercial 
 marine which covers every sea. Add to this the vast wealth, 
 the accumulated capital, and untold treasures which are the 
 production of previous and still-sustained industry, and which 
 gave life and energy to her other resources, and we have the 
 real causes of England's naval superiority, which does not 
 consist in any exclusive ingenuity in the construction and 
 equipment of her ships. The foreigner who would steal into 
 the Portsmouth dock-yard with any surreptitious purpose, 
 would probably be found studying the models of the Pre- 
 sident, the Endymion, the Blonde, or some captured Spaniard, 
 and not in carrying off any outlines of those crazy and dancing 
 cockboats, in which the forms of caiques and polacres, in- 
 tended to traverse circumscribed and sheltered seas, are ex- 
 tended to the largest ships, turned out to roll and wallow in 
 the full-grown billows of the Atlantic ; or attempting to gain 
 a useful idea in construction in the building-sheds of a navy 
 which is abandoned to a wild spirit of innovation, trampling 
 upon established rules and all that experience has consecrated, 
 and which is given up to the ruinous guidance of charlatans 
 and yacht-fanciers. . 
 
 Though we did not enter the dock-yard, we took a look at 
 the gate that gives admission to it, and enjoyed a broadside 
 view from the land, of the noble old Victory. The beach 
 and adjacent streets were crowded with jolly sailors ; some, 
 just discharged, had yards of ribbon hanging from their neat 
 trucks, and fluttering like the pendants of so many cruisers, 
 and the gilded chains of one or more watches dangling from 
 
PORTSMOUTH. 41' 
 
 their tight-set waistbands. These rolled over the ground 
 with a glorious swagger ; and, in their trim gala air, were the 
 very opposites of some other worthies, who, with tattered 
 shirt, bunged-up eyes, and minus the jacket which they had 
 doubtless swallowed in the shape of rum the day before, were 
 skulking to a house whence depended a union-jack to which was 
 pasted a handbill, setting forth that able seamen were required 
 for His Majesty's service. These fellows work hard three years 
 at sea, and recreate a week on shore ; if indeed that can be 
 called recreation which, if it does not kill them outright, often 
 severely injures their health, and leaves them more exhausted 
 than months of toil and privation. The different favour and 
 estimation in which these poor victims seemed to be held by 
 the luring syrens that filled the streets, and ogled or frowned 
 from the windows, furnished a true though low-lived picture 
 of wordly interestedness. Never before did I see such teem- 
 ing evidences, and so much of the outward and visible signs of 
 vice, as in these my rambles through the streets of Portsmouth. 
 I might perhaps have been led to draw conclusions unfavour- 
 able to the chastity of England, herself so critical, so pnadish, 
 and 80 unforgiving in her estimation of her continental neigh- 
 bours, had I been in any hurry to draw conclusions of any sort j 
 or, had I not remembered that, besides being a garrison town, 
 this was the great rendezvous of the greatest navy in the world, 
 and that sailors, somewhat earlier than the days of Horace, 
 were already allowed by universal consent to be a wicked and 
 perverse race, without morals and without religion. Wo is 
 me, brother sailors ! we lead but a dog's life in this world. Is 
 it only that we may be the more certain of roasting in the 
 next ? 
 
 It would have been too much good fortune to have made 
 two passages in one day with Captain Sam in his Navarin. 
 There were, however, steamers running at stated hours from 
 Portsmouth to Ryde, off" which the Hannibal was lying, and 
 we got on board one of them at two o'clock. There is no 
 wharf or pier for the accomodation of passengers here. The 
 
4% THE AMERICAN IN SN€^LAND. 
 
 port is lined with a shingle beach, on which the boats are 
 hauled up. The steamer lay at a short distance from the shore, 
 stemming the tide, and we reached her in a small boat. This 
 steamboat, like all in England, was of very different construc- 
 tion from ours in America ; most of ours being constructed td 
 run on rivers and in smooth water. Here there are no riverd^ 
 the harbours are generally more or less open, and all boats are 
 occasionally exposed to a heavy sea. Hence they are con- 
 structed fuller and deeper, and have no superstructure of any 
 sort, such as pavilion-decks, and roofs for the shelter and com- 
 fort of passengers. None of their machinery is on deck ; and 
 were it not for the funnel emitting a black coal-smoke, and 
 the paddle-wheels, there would be nothing in the appearance 
 of their hulls to distinguish them from sailing vessels, for they 
 are even painted in the same way. The travelling-beam and 
 piston, which work up and down in sight in our boats, here 
 move horizontally below. Perhaps this is one reason why the 
 celerity in English steamboats is so inferior to ours ; for, ex- 
 travagant as the disparity may seem, I do not believe that the 
 average celerity of all the boats in the United Kingdom is 
 more than equal to half that of American steamers. In a noble 
 steam ship-of-war, recently built in England, having two en- 
 gines of each one hundred and ten horses, the length of the 
 stroke is only five feet, while with us it would be just double. 
 The disparity in speed is not wholly, but indeed very partially, 
 owing to the flat construction of our boats, and the different 
 character of the navigation. In shoal water it is more diffi- 
 cult to displace the resisting fluid, and the velocity is checked. 
 We have steamers built of deeper draught for the navigation 
 of the Long Island Sound, one of which, the Lexington, has a 
 uniform speed of eighteen statue miles the hour ; and the 
 Charleston packets, which are exposed occasionally, in passing 
 along the Gulf Stream, to as terrific storms and as dangerous 
 seas as any to be encountered on the boisterous coasts of the 
 United Kingdom, go at a velocity of from twelve to thirteen 
 knots. 
 
PORTSMOUTH. 43 
 
 But to return to our little steamer now on her way to Ryde, 
 she scuffled along at the rate of six or seven knots. She was 
 evidently doing her best to oblige us, and it would have been 
 cruel to complain. Though there was no gilding, brass, or 
 ornament of any sort about this boat, she was scrupulously 
 neat, and the sailors employed about her were better clad, and 
 evidently a better class of persons, than those usually seen in 
 ours. The air being raw and chill, I went below to the cabin, 
 which I found exceedingly small. Instead of the rich and 
 costly woods, the gilding, carving, carpets, and tapestry which 
 are found in most of our boats, all was here plain and simple, 
 the joiner's work being unadorned and merely painted white, 
 with an oilcloth and green cushions of moreen ; here however, 
 as on deck, the cleanliness and order were admirable. 
 
 The little cabin was occupied, as I entered it, by a very in- 
 teresting group, consisting of a young gentleman, and a lady 
 of great beauty and elegance, who was evidently his wife. 
 Beside her sat a nurse, whose good looks, though of a more 
 substantial character, were not without claims to admiration, 
 and who was endeavouring to amuse a pretty boy of two or 
 three years, and divert his mind from the effects of the boat's 
 motion ; in which task she had a most useful coadjutor in a 
 little spaniel dog, very prettily spotted, and with long silken 
 ears. There was an air of mutual confidence and affection 
 between the happy pair which evinced itself in none of those 
 sickening epithets and mawkish dalliance which married peo- 
 dle not unfrequuntly indulge in, for the edification of others 
 whom chance has sent as spectators of their exhibition ; but 
 in every quiet look, word, and action. Nothing delights me 
 more than the spectacle of a happy group thus blessed in the 
 present, and with hope to gild each cloud that hangs about 
 the horizon of the future. Every thing, indeed, seemed in good 
 keeping in this charming living picture after the manner of 
 Raphael. The noble, manly, protecting air of the husband ; 
 the grace, the delicacy, the soft security and confiding repose 
 of the wife ; the more solid and substantial charms of the rus- 
 
44 THE AMEBICAN IN SN&LAND. 
 
 tic fair one ; and the innocence of the child, at the age when 
 children first begin to have any interest, were all aided by 
 the effect of graceful drapery and well-chosen colours. To 
 render the scene complete, they were surrounded by a thou- 
 sand little appliances of comfort and luxury, which were all 
 called into use in the course of our short voyage. A neat 
 port-folio was first produced and opened, exhibiting the com- 
 bination of compactness and high finish, which luxury and 
 refinement have given rise to among a highly civilized people. 
 There was no table in the cabin, but the obliging husband 
 contrived to make one of his lap ; while his wife penned a 
 hasty line to put in the post at Ryde, in order to announce a 
 safe arrival to some dear friend from whom they have recently 
 parted. This care disposed of, a basket was produced and 
 unpacked, which was found to contain the very opposites of 
 the intellectual contents lof the port-folio, in the shape of 
 sandwiches, done up in white paper, and an entire roasted 
 chicken. Ere they made any inroad upon their store of good 
 things, they very politely and cordially invited me to partake. 
 An act of courtesy like this would have been obvious enough 
 on the continent ; and in Spain would surely, under like cir- 
 cumstances, have been practised by the humblest muleteer; 
 but I certainly was not prepared for such civility by a slight 
 intercourse with various repulsive specimens of English peo- 
 ple in my own country and elsewhere. As I had not, how- 
 ever, come to this country armed, in imitation of the aimiable 
 example of its travellers in my own, with a set of opinions 
 to which facts were by some means to be accommodated, 1 
 very willingly stored up the circumstance in my memory as a 
 pleasing incident, which 1 am hai)py to record. Perhaps the 
 attention may have been unusual, and owing to my removing 
 my hat and bowing as I entered an apartment, .of which, 
 though public for all the passengers, they were the only occu- 
 pants, having rendered it probable that I was a foreigner. At 
 any rate, I learned on this occasion one lesson of national 
 manners, which was confirmed by all my subsequent experi- 
 
PORTSMOUTH. . 45 
 
 ence. This was the sensible custom of English people, of 
 going always armed with eatables to sustain their energies 
 and keep alive their enthusiasm. The pleasures and excite- 
 ment of a journey, the rapture which is enkindled by the con- 
 templation of fine scenery, or the ecstacy with which the soul 
 is moved by the triumphs of music at a festival or an oration, 
 are never in England allowed to be diminished by the inward 
 discomfit of an empty stomach. There is a sympathy of feel- 
 ing on this subject throughout the land ; and never shall I for- 
 get the loud and enthusiastic burst of loyalty with which I 
 once saw King William greeted by an overflowing house at 
 Drury Lane, as he accompanied his cup of tea by the cus- 
 tomary bread and butter, eating, as one remarked beside me, 
 exactly like a common person. 
 
 But to return to our little steamboat ; she ere long stopped 
 under the stem of the Hannibal. A boat came from the ship 
 to take us alongside; and, soon after, we were 8eat€d at 
 dinner, when I endeavoured as well as I could to do justice 
 to the good cheer of the captain's table, and imitate the ener- 
 getic attacks of my late friendly companions. 
 
46 THEt AMERICAN IN ENOLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE KENTISH COAST. 
 
 Leave Portsmouth. Beaehy Head. DungeNess. Lighthouse Sinecures. River 
 Pilot. Shipwrecks. Appearance of the Coast. Hythe. Dover. Cinque 
 Ports. The Downs. Kentish Wreckers. 
 
 Towards sundown we weighed anchor and stood to sea, going" 
 out from behind the Isle of Wight by the opposite entrance 
 from which we had arrived, in coming from the west. We 
 had come in by the Needles, and now passed out by St. Helen's. 
 The gale had ceased, and though the sky was still gloomy and 
 overcast, the pilot, and those who could judge in an English 
 sense and speak advisedly, pronounced the weather beautiful. 
 The wind blew gently from the south, and we swept quietly 
 along the coast. As the day declined, and the darkness spre^a 
 around, the beautiful beacon-lights of this admirably marked 
 coast grew into distinctness and brilliancy. The salutary care 
 of a government, watchful of the lives and property of its 
 subjects, has provided lights at every headland and place of 
 danger. These are visible from twenty to thirty miles in fine 
 weather, are distinguished by their colour, phases, and periods 
 of revolution, and have sufficient power to pierce the gloom 
 which ordinarily envelopes the coast to a distance sufficient 
 to secure the safety of the watchful mariner. Other inter* 
 mediate points of inferior note, having piers or natural har- 
 bours, have beacons of less brilliancy, which are placed on the 
 extremity of the moles, and called tide-lights ; because they 
 are only lit towards high water, when alone it is possible to 
 enter. In this way we passed the Owens, which mark the 
 existence of a danger ; a brilliant collection of gas-lit streets, 
 sloping down a hill side, marked the site of Brighton, a city 
 exclusively of the rich, then the residence of the court, and 
 the scene of festive revelry ; at length the brilliant, meteor- 
 like light of Beacby Head blazed up in the direction of our 
 
TBI EGNTiaH COAST. 4| 
 
 qpurse, to remind me of one of the commonest of sea similes, 
 applied equally, in narrative, to ships and women — " She 
 loomed like Beechy Head in a fog." 
 
 Having walked the deck until a late hour, excited by the 
 balminess of the gentle south breeze, the steady and quiet 
 motion of the ship, and the bright array of lighthouses, bea- 
 cons, and illuminated cities of Sussex, past which we nearly 
 and leisurely glided, I retired at length below, with the de- 
 termination of being out again betimes. The day was dawn- 
 ing as I rose, and we were off that southern point of the coast 
 of Kent which, stretching out into a low sandy headland, is 
 known by the name of Dunge Ness. Here is a very fine light, 
 whose power and brilliancy we could still appreciate, though 
 the gathering day had already announced the coming of na- 
 ture's luminary. If, however, it were nearly as brilliant as 
 the sun, it was not by any means so cheap. I forget, now, 
 how much the Hannibal had to pay each voyage for this Dunge 
 Ness light ; but I well remember that she and other ships make 
 up for Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, the pretty purse of four or five 
 thousand pounds over and above the annual expenses of main- 
 taining this light. I was told, moreover, that Mr. Coke, whose 
 name was familiar to me among the distinguished Englishmen 
 of the day, was an individual of enormous patrimonial wealth, 
 and of elevated character, and honourable estimation in the 
 land. He had repeatedly declined being called to the peerage. 
 He was a very great patriot ; indeed, he owed to his patriot- 
 ism, that is, if patriotism and whig principles be admitted to 
 be synonymous, the late renewal of the charter from Trinity 
 House, or from whencesoever it came, securing to him this 
 rich sinecure, chargeable to the commerce of the country, for 
 other ten years. I think, in declining to be called My Lord, 
 Mr. Coke might very consistently have put back this disho- 
 nourable subsidy, the want of which to him would have 
 involved the abridgement of no luxury, but which is felt op- 
 pressively as added to the burdens of merchants, ship-owners, 
 
4S THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 and masters, toiling, economizing, and exposing themflelves 
 to become owners also. 
 
 Daniel O'Connell — by whom, however, I am by no means 
 disposed to swear — being without fortune, has devoted those 
 rare talents and acquirements, and that brilliant eloquence, 
 which might have conducted to the highest honours and un- 
 bounded wealth, to the restless and unwearying advocacy of 
 Ireland's wrongs. For these services he receives, as a volun- 
 tary offering from his countrymen, such sums as his profes- 
 sional labours would make his own with less vexation at the 
 bar, or the tithe of what he might throw away in patron- 
 age upon his family, had his vocation been for office. For the 
 receipt of this voluntary tribute he is each day proclaimed 
 infamous to the world, branded as a selfish and sordid spirit, 
 and the most wretched of beggarmen. Mr. Coke, of Holkham, 
 being the hereditary possessor of unmeasured acres, extorts 
 compulsorily four thousand pounds from ship-owners, skippers, 
 and smack masters, which the legislative obliquities of the 
 land permit him to levy, and for which he renders no service 
 in retuni. Yet the world's estimation, denouncing O'Connell 
 as infamous, proclaims //m? just, generous, and a patriot. 
 
 It so chanced that the first English newspaper which came 
 in my way contained some evidence, given by a distinguished 
 merchant before a committee of the House of Commons, on 
 the depressed condition of the shipping interest. To enforce 
 this opinion, he stated, that if any person would place at his 
 disposal a thoroughly equipped ship, without the payment of 
 any consideration, and simply upon the condition of his keeping 
 her in repair, he would not consent to sail her in times like 
 the present. The individual was upon oath ; perhaps he had 
 been broken in by swearing to manifests. At any rate I do 
 not believe him, for I read his evidence soon after it was 
 given, in working up the Thames, and surrounded by fleets of 
 ships and teeming indications of a not motiveless or unpro- 
 fitable activity. Though I do not believe the case to be so 
 extreme a one, yet I placed the circumstance beside the other 
 
THE ElENTISa COAST. ^ 
 
 of the Dunge Ness light, and could not help wondering that a 
 country which has become great by freedom and commerce, 
 -should permit the sources of its power to be thus obstructed 
 and preyed upon. 
 
 The day now grew apace. The chalky hills of the interior 
 grew into distinctness, and many towns scattered along the 
 coast testified to the populousness of this maritime county. — 
 There were fleets of outward-bound vessels anchored un« 
 der the land, waiting a wind to get to the westward. — 
 The sky, though overcast, did not indicate rain or inclement 
 weather; the water being free from swell and of a very 
 bright green, was stirred into miniature billows by the grow- 
 ing beeeze. Here the Thames pilots cruise for the inward- 
 bound from the Atlantic. We soon saw one, having her signal 
 
 ' up and standing towards us. She was a small cutter of thirty 
 or forty tons, under reefed sails. We found that she had been 
 out a week, and of course had encountered the tremendous 
 
 . gale we had rode out under the Isle of Wight. Though 
 clumsy, awkward, and apparently unmanageable, these cutters 
 must certainly be excellent sea-boats to live in such weather. 
 The boat's crew of four which pulled the pilot alongside were 
 
 1 a very hardy, weather-beaten serf;; their mode of life expose* 
 them to frequent storms and rain, and the perpetual drenching 
 
 ; of the salt spray ; they were, however, most comfortably clad 
 in suits of tarpaulin, coal-heaver's hats, huge boots, and can- 
 vas petticoats. The pilot was a pursy little man, with a 
 braggadocio air, and a nautical swagger. He had a copper 
 nose and a red eye, that showed that he knew how to empty 
 a bottle. He fully proved this ere we reached Gravesend, as 
 
 well as that, both as a pilot and a seaman, he was very com* 
 
 netent to the discharge of his duty. The boat's drew, except 
 one, followed him up, besieged the cook for raw pork, levied a 
 bottle of rum, and contrived to exact an extra glass each before 
 
 their departure. 
 
50 THE AMEKICAN IN £N€^LAND. 
 
 During breakfast the pilbt regaled U9 with an account of 
 Bome of the wrecks, attended with loss of life, which had oc- 
 curred since the last voyage of the Hannibal. Quite reecently, 
 a Quebec ship had been cast ashore near Calais, and lost nearly 
 the whole of her crew. The pilot expatiated on the inhu- 
 manity of the French in not making greater efforts to save 
 them. By his own admission, however, those who reached 
 the land had been nursed with the greatest kindness ; and I 
 not long after saw an account of a most singular act of cou- 
 rage and hardihood of some French fishermen, in saving the 
 crew of an English vessel, at the great risk of their own lives, 
 and under the influence of humane feelings alone. Their he- 
 roism was commended in all the English papers, and the 
 bounty of the sovereign was most becomingly bestowed upon 
 them. The vituperation of the pilot was only the effect of 
 the national antipathy, still existing in all its force among the 
 amphibious inhabitants of the opposite coasts. 
 
 Our course lay very close to the coast. It blew fresh imme- 
 diately along it, and we drove rapidly before the wind with 
 square yards. After breakfast we were opposite to Hythe. — 
 This was the native place and the chosen retirement of our 
 our worthy fellow-passenger, the half-pay captain. He had 
 expressed the hope the day before, that some boat would be off 
 as we passed the town, and that he should be able to get on 
 shore in time to go to church with his wife and his little one?. 
 I found the captain looking anxiously with the glass, in the 
 hope of seeing some one of the objects of Ids affection. He 
 pointed out to me his abode, a stone house pleasingly situated 
 on a terrace of the sloping cliff. One of the gables was over^ 
 run with an evergreen creeper, and it had an inviting, habi 
 able look, as of a place to which one might become attach^, 
 and be satisfied to live in for ever. At no great distance stood 
 the village church, a venerable and time-honoured pile, of va« 
 rious architecture, the patchwork combinations of remote ageft 
 Its clear and clarion-like bell was sending over down and clif 
 
THE KENTISH COAST. 4i 
 
 the preliminary notes of invitation to the faithful to bestir 
 themselves, put on their gaj^est holiday suits, and repair to 
 take part in the religious offices of the day. On the naked 
 downs surrounding the town, flocks and herds were placidly 
 grazing on the still partially verdant herbage. Occasionally a 
 cow, standing on the top of the ridge, was brought out 
 through the half misty sky in strong relief, so as to seem of 
 preternatural dimensions. A gentleman on horseback, fol- 
 lowed by his dog, was picking his way across the fields in the 
 direction of the village. 
 
 The captain seemed very full of the antiquities of his little 
 town, a place indeed not unknown to fame ; and which, being 
 one of the Cinque Ports, makes no inconsiderable figure in the 
 early naval history of England. He gave me a full account, 
 pointing too to the localities, of a very dreadful battle fought 
 here against an army of invading Danes ; who, having effected 
 a landing, were defeated after terrible efforts, and put to the 
 sword. A huge vault beneath the chancel, he said, was filled 
 with the bones of the slain in this day of peril. 
 
 It blew fresh, and no boat came off to us. I really sympa- 
 thized in the disappointment of the veteran captain, when he 
 found himself carried past his house at the distance of not 
 more than a quarter of an hour's sharp walking, such as, in 
 his vexation and impatience, he was wasting on the deck of 
 the Hannibal. Each familiar object was plain in view ; he 
 descanted upon the healthfulness of the situation ; the com- 
 manding nature of the view ; the agreeable walks ; and the 
 array of comforts within which he had intrenched himself in 
 his smiling habitation. To me the place appeared full of at- 
 traction, though unhallowed by the consecrating power of past 
 association. And yet he was preparing to leave this abode, 
 so endeared to him, for a new and distant home in a wild 
 country. He had bought land in Canada, and had come out 
 for his family. His reasons for emigration were that his chil- 
 ,dren were growing up; though he had the means of living 
 
52 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 -comfortably, yet he had no means to buy his sons commissions 
 in the army, or titled relations to gain them preferment in the 
 church; his portionless daughters, too, must remain unmar- 
 ried. I could not help agitating the question in my mind whe- 
 ther, after balancing the pleasures and perplexities of his condi- 
 tion, he had really augmented by marriage the aggregate of his 
 happiness. Had he lived single, he might have ended his days in 
 tranquillity amid the scenes which had met his earliest gaze. 
 He might have had for ever beside him some trusty domestic, 
 disabled, like himself, in the service of old England, and who 
 might now share his pleasures as he had shared his whilome 
 toils. In short, instead of the unprofitable employment of 
 bringing children into the world without knowing how they 
 were to fight their way through it, he might have enacted 
 again the old but true story of my Uncle Toby and the Corpo- 
 ral, fighting battles and taking towns to the end of life's chap- 
 ter. There was, however, an essential difference between the 
 two parallel cases, consisting chiefly in the nature of the 
 wounds. 
 
 Folkstone, with its steep-gabled houses of red or gray sand- 
 -atone, and its shining slate roofs, soon came and went like 
 Hythe. Ere long we were in sight of Shakspeare's Cliffs, so 
 called because the poet has made them his own in those undy- 
 ing lines with which the world is familiar. They seemed to 
 me not less than five hundred feet in height, and nearly per- 
 pendicular, having been undermined and crumbled by the at- 
 tacks of the sea. The chalky soil was naked and revealed, 
 being of a dingy white, save in partial spots, where it was 
 streaked with clay. Farther to the north frowned another 
 precipitous range of cliffs, of equal boldness, the two beingr 
 separated by a deep ravine. On this last cliff stood toppling 
 the antique towers of the famous old castle of Dover, whose 
 earliest foundation is ascribed to Julius Caesar, and which ia 
 familiar to childish recollection as the depository of that fa« 
 mo\i9 gun, known as Queen Elizabeth's pocket-pistol, which 
 
THE KENTISH COAST. 53'- 
 
 as nursery maids do say, will carry a ball across twenty mile, 
 of channel, to the land of frogs and Frenchmen. Beneath the 
 embattled walls, the face of the cliff is seen to be singularly 
 perforated with casemates and lodgements for the garrison, 
 being lit from the side of the precipice. Far below, partly 
 situated on the beach at the foot of these cliffs which semicir- 
 cularly surround it, partly straggling up the valley that di- 
 vides them, lies the town of Dover, so important as being the 
 nearest port to France ; and the point whence, in winter, all 
 the intercourse between the two great countries is carried on. 
 It is built of dark stone, with slate roofs, and has the same 
 lugubrious air with the other towns that I had seen. There is 
 an unsafe natural roadstead here ; but the harbour is wholly 
 artificial, being excavated from the soil, and having massive 
 stone piers running out into the sea, with a beacon light at the 
 extremity. Here vessels of an easy draught ef water may 
 enter when the tide is in, the receding tide leaving them again; 
 with the whole harbour, to the dominion of the land. The 
 masts of many vessels, and the chimneys of steamers, mingled 
 with the buildings. It was now eleven o'clock, the church- 
 bells were pealing merrily, groups of gaily-dressed inhabi- 
 tants were steering in a continuous current to the church, 
 while the more ungodly strolled towards the pier. The 
 streamers were fluttering gaily from all the vessels in the har- 
 bour ; and high over cliff and battlement hung out the flag of 
 England, in salutation of the Sabbath. 
 
 Presently we rounded the South Foreland, losing sight of 
 Dover, and bore away along the coast due north for the bold 
 point of the North Foreland, which forms the south-eastern 
 boundary of the estuary of the Thames. The Downs were 
 crowded with ships; and various towns were indistinctly seen 
 along the shore through the misty veil, which, notwithstand- 
 ing the beauty of the day, circumscribed the view in all di- 
 rections, and which I afterward found was a perpetual attri- 
 bute of the climate. Among the chief of these towns were 
 
5[i THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Deal, Sandgate, and Ramsgate. Walmer Castle was also 
 pointed out to me at no great distance from Deal. It is and 
 has been, from time immemorial, the residence of the Lord- 
 warden of the Cinque Ports, a singular association, which had 
 its origin in the early ages of the monarchy, and which was 
 the embryo from which has grown the British navy. It was 
 very useful to England at the time of its creation, and is now 
 k:ept alive because it is useful to one individual, who receives a 
 salary of some thousand pounds, levied, like Mr. Coke's sine- 
 cure, on the commerce of the country. At the present mo- 
 ment, however, the outrage against justice is not so crjang as 
 it may be, the incumbent having served and honoured his 
 country beyond any other living Englishman, he being no other 
 than the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 The well-known Downs, which make so frequent and 
 so conspicuous a figure in the naval annals of England 
 ajad are associated with the names of all her heroes from 
 Ealeigh to Nelson, are a continuous bank, which extend 
 some eight miles along the coast, and nearly as far out- 
 ward from Deal to the Goodwin Sands. The holding-ground 
 is good, but the situation is wholly exposed to all winds? 
 except those from the west. Here vessels bound to the 
 Atlantic ride at anchor, in preparation for a wind which may 
 enable them to get to sea. When the wind comes in strong 
 from the south, they sometimes weigh, and run behind the 
 North Foreland for a lee, and anchor off Margate. At other 
 times they get adrift, losing their anchors and cables, and 
 have to run for the North Sea ; or, to avoid the danger of 
 approacliing the coast again without ground-tackle, they 
 push for the pier of Ramsgate, and dash in among the shipping 
 at a venture. This, however, can only be attempted when 
 the tide is in. 
 
 I looked with no little interest to the light-boat, which was 
 the gloomy monitor to warm the mariner from Goodwin 
 Sands; a name which awakened in my mind a thousand 
 
TH» KENTISH COAST. 55 
 
 dieaetfous recollections. The first stroke on these shoals 
 often suffices to rend the stoutest keel ; the quicksands enter 
 instantly, and, ere long, all is swallowed to the truck. The 
 pilot related the fate of the Houglie Castle Indiaman, as a 
 warning to all refractory captains, and as a sea-moral never 
 to be forgotten. She was running for the Downs or Margate, 
 I forget which, when a pilot hailed her captain, and ofiPered to 
 bring him to anchor for twenty guineas. The charge was 
 exorbitant, and the captain commended him to the Devil ; 
 the pilot sheered off, bidding him carry his own errand. She 
 was under close-reefed topsails, for it blew a gale. Lord 
 Liverpool, who was on a visit to Walmer Castle, happened 
 to be watching her with a telescope when she struck. She 
 gare three sallies from side to side, and disappeared entirely, 
 ship, crew, passengers, all to her very mastheads. 
 
 There was a very large fleet riding in the Downs ; their 
 cables were straining, and they were plunging rather uneasily, 
 though there was a little swell, and dasliing the water far 
 from their bows. They had been collecting here for several ;- 
 weeks, and were likely to remain as much longer; indeed^'v 
 they actually did remain several months. One of the New*/ 
 York packets, which, by superior sailing and great exertion/ 
 htdgotto sea shortly previous to this time, actually made 
 her passage home and returned again, finding still in the 
 Downs an Indiaman, and several other ships that had sailed 
 in company with her from London. We exchanged the salute 
 of colours with one unhappy American, whose patience was 
 likely to be well tried. Our passage through this fleet was to 
 us most exhilarating. The wind and tide were strongly with 
 us, and we fairly flew before them. No pity for the wind- 
 bound qualified our delight; for nothing can equal the selfish 
 gratification with which a sailor glories in the monopoly of 
 a staggering breeze. His own happiness were incomplete 
 without the contrasting misery of others ; besides, he is un- 
 willing that the wind should blow the other way, lest it 
 
# THE AMERICAN IN ENdLAND. 
 
 shonld exhaust itself before he is ready to have the benefit of 
 it on the homeward voyage. 
 
 There was a vast deal of passing to and fro in boats, to 
 alleviate the condition of the wind-bound^ and, for a consider- 
 ation, to carry to these the consolations of the land ; news- 
 papers, vegetables, beef, and mutton, bottles of rum, and now 
 and then a tearful, tender Susan, to ask if her sweet William 
 sailed among the crew. The supply of the ships in the Downs 
 is the great support of Deal. Their boats are famous for 
 their speed, lightness, and safeness; and their oarsmen are 
 no doubt the most skilful and hardy in the world. They 
 think nothing of their own lives or of the pockets of other 
 people. The habit of risking every thing to gain every thing 
 makes them insatiably greedy. Their extortion for the slight- 
 est services is incredible. They are in league with the ship- 
 chandlers on shore, and aid in extracting enormous prices 
 from vessels requiring cables and anchors. The most de- 
 lightful weather for them is a gale of wind, and a hurricane 
 they deem the very smile of nature. A distressed ressei i» 
 the most pleasing object that their eye can rest on, and a 
 wreck is a thing altogether lovely. Brave, active, ekilfu), 
 they must ever furnish excellent recruits for the navy j reck- 
 less, turbulent, indomitable, if a new Jack Cade were to rise 
 up, he would do well to follow the example of his predecessor;, 
 and unfurl his banner among the men of Kent. 
 
THE THAMES. 6T 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE THAMES. 
 
 English Coasting Craft. French Fishermen. Ramsgate and Margate. Kentisli 
 Watermen. Tales of Shipwreck. The Convict Ship. Dangers of the 
 Thames. Navigation of the River. The Nore. Approach to Gravcsend. 
 Leave the Hannibal. 
 
 One of the most obvious comparisons which rises in the mind 
 of an American in approaching the coasts of Europe, is sug- 
 gested by the wide difference between the coasting vessels he 
 now sees around him and those he left on his own. He looks 
 with wonder and derision at the shapeless and lumbering 
 forms of cutters, ketches, and galliots, with their dark sails 
 often tanned and painted ; and contrasts their heavy, sluggish 
 movements with the bounding, sprightly air of the small craft 
 of his own country. He recalls to his recollection the proud 
 majestic sloop, with licr towering mainsail of white canvass, 
 as large as that of a first-rate; the rakish firihing-smack, rising 
 over the curling waves with the grace of a bonita ; the bri- 
 gantine and the pettiauger ; but, most of all, his imagination 
 reverts to the pilot-boat which bore back his last adieus, haply, 
 as in our own case, the fleet and sylph-like Trimmer ; her low 
 hull, her graceful curve, which might be adopted as the true 
 standard of the line of beauty ; her raking masts, her sails, 
 white, tapering, and cut with admirable precision ; her match- 
 less speed and lightness, and the docility, ease, and grace of 
 every flexile movement, all proclaim her the Venus of the seas. 
 She is, to the same class of vessels in England, what the dol- 
 phin is to the shapeless skate and the bloated toadfish ; what 
 one of our airy flutterers in Broadway is to the emigrant pea- 
 sant-woman beside her, with uncompassed waist, projecting 
 
 elbows, high ouarter-deck, straddling steps, and iron-shod 
 c 5 
 
5eJ THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 hoofs ; — light, easy, and Corinthian— a thing of life ; she is 
 among ships precisely what Taglioni is among women. 
 
 Among the small craft by which we were now surrounded, 
 I was particularly struck with a French fishing-boat, which 
 came very near us. It was short, broad, and very deep, and 
 entirely open to the sea; one large mast rose in the bows, to 
 which a lug-sail wa« hoisted ; there was a small jigger-mast 
 Abaft, and a gallows beside it on which to lower the main- 
 mast in pulling to windward, or in order to pull the sail over 
 it in port to make a roof for the shelter of the crew. She was 
 Tendered more uncouth by being daubed outside with pitch, 
 ^save where Boulogne, with her number, was written ; and by 
 .'her jib and jigger being tanned of a deep red colour. The crew 
 were variously clad in tarpaulin jackets and trousers, or pet- 
 ticoats and fishermen's boots ; and had on red wollen caps or 
 coal-heavers' hats. At the helm, which was the rib of some 
 wrecked boat about the size of his own, sat a veteran fisher- 
 man, heedlessly grasping the ominous relic. He strongly re- 
 minded me of an old sea-lion, which I once saw on a desert 
 rock, giving the law to a family of seals of which he was the 
 patriarch. As I gazed on the uncouth boat and her equally 
 uncouth inmates, I have fancied her some strange sea-opossum, 
 with its young ones in its belly. Like them, doubtless, were 
 those Norsemen and sea-kings of old, their actual ancestors, 
 who put forth in open cockles such as these to overrun the 
 .shores of Europe and subjugate kingdoms. 
 
 Notwithstanding the rude and lumbering appearance of this 
 boat, she sailed well. The pilot told me, that when at anchor 
 on the coast, they make a tent of the sail and sleep under it ; 
 at all other times they are completely exposed to spray and 
 rain by day and night. Hardly as these poor fellows earn 
 their existence, they are yet the objects of much envy. I 
 gathered from the pilot, who did not seem to like them, that 
 the English fishermen complain much of their fishing on the 
 English coast. They find fault with the number of men which 
 
-.THE THAMES. 59 
 
 they carry, which deters them from falling on board, beating 
 them, and plundering their fish. They have recently petitioned 
 Parliament to protect their invaded interests. If, however, a 
 gale drives the Frenchmen on shore, they take the law into 
 their own hands, and plunder and maltreat them without 
 mercy. The poor Frenchmen steal like culprits along the 
 coast, but rarely venturing to land to buy a few loaves of 
 bread, which, with dry herrings and cheese, compose their 
 food. Upon the whole, their life offers only one extended 
 scene of danger and privation ; passed as it is in contending 
 in open boats with the almost perpetual rains, and the fright* 
 ful squalls and hurricanes of this inclement coast, with the 
 additional danger of being each night exposed to be run down 
 in the Channel by the thousand keels that plough it unceas* 
 ingly. I remember reading the next year, soon after the com* 
 mencement of the herring season, that in Boulogne alone three 
 hundred children of fishermen were already fatherless. 
 
 As we passed Ramsgate I was attracted by the noble ap* 
 pearance of its pier, which is one of the most celebrated of the 
 great works of this description in England. It constitutes a 
 harbour here, where one is much needed, into which vesseltf 
 may run, if the tide be in, after parting a cable in the Downs* 
 In a late gale, the pilot had seen a Deal boat board a Dutch 
 West Indiaman, sugar-laden, which had thus broken adrift 
 from the Downs. They undertook to run her into Ramsgate j 
 but, dropping to leeward, came full against the pier, stove her 
 bows in, and made switchel of the whole harbour. Ramsgate 
 is a famous watering-place ; and, being at so convenient a 
 distance from London, is much frequented by its citizens dur- 
 ing the bathing season. 
 
 Having doubled the bold promontory of the North Foreland/ 
 we hauled our wind up the river, and soon after clewed up 
 and anchored off Margate to wait for the morning's tide. 
 Here also was a jetty running far into the sea, with a basin 
 for small vessels, and a beacon-light. Though Margate was 
 
60 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 quite deserted now, the pilot told us that in summer it wa& 
 thronged with cockneys : being in the river, they can reach it 
 quicker than Ramsgate, and with less danger of getting sick in 
 rounding the Foreland. They came here, he said, to eat 
 fresher fish than Billingsgate affords, and take the sea " hair'* 
 into their coal-smoked and leathern lungs. 
 
 We had scarcely anchored ere one of those neat four-oared 
 boats, like those of Deal, shot out from the pier of Mar- 
 gate, and sped quickly for us under her lug-sail. As the half- 
 pay captain was very anxious to get quickly on shore, in the 
 hope of reaching his home that night, for we were only five- 
 and-twenty miles from Hythe, he was delighted to see thier 
 boat come to us. I was very much amused, however, at the 
 air of indifference he assumed as the boatmen came over the 
 side, lest they should discover his wish. They began by of- 
 fering the captain a paper ; and asking, in sufficiently bad Eng- 
 lish, if they could be of any use; and whether he had any pas- 
 sengers to land. He answered, that his passengers all liked 
 the ship so well, that they were for finishing the voyage with 
 him ; and, besides, there was every prospect of a fine wind 
 the next day. The boatmen were all unanimous in prognos- 
 ticating a wild night, and advised the passengers by all means 
 to get their land tacks on board. They would land as many 
 of us as chose to go at ten shillings a-head. The captain, who 
 seemed to understand these amphibious worthies perfectly, 
 then hinted, that possibly one of his passengers might be dis- 
 posed to go, if he could be taken on shore quickly and in a dry 
 State ; aud the veteran, delighted to agree to terms so very 
 ittoderate, compared with what would have been exacted from 
 him had his eagerness been known, hastened to collect his 
 luggage and take leave of us. The captain then bargained with 
 the 'boatmen to bring us the papers in the^moming, and come 
 off to aid us in getting under weigh. 
 
 After dinner our pilot, who had become warm and eloquent 
 from the effect of liis potations, launched forth into the relation 
 
THE THAMES. 6J 
 
 of the wild adventures of his life of peril and hardihood. I, 
 for one, was an attentive listener to all these tales of danger, 
 narrated with the life and spirit of one who was telling what 
 he had not only seen, but been part of. He recounted how, 
 when the Julian wa/j lost on the Kentish Knock, two men 
 only escaped, on a raft, hastily prepared, of oars; he 
 had been running past the Galloper the next morning, 
 looking to see if there were anything to be picked up, 
 and discovered these two sailors : one of them was already 
 dead, the other in the last state of exhaustion. When last 
 seen, the captain of the lost ship was looking mourfully from 
 the quarter-gallery window, as she lay over on her side. 
 
 It was only on the first day of the previous September that 
 he had himself been drifted from Margate roads, in a Quebec 
 ship, and, after loss of sails, got on shore near Calais, where 
 the greater part of the crew were drowned in the effort to reach 
 the shore in the boat, and himself and a few others only were 
 saved, after undergoing incredible hardships. It was also in 
 that same storm that the Amphitrite was wrecked. She wa& 
 bound to Botany Bay, laden with convicts, and was stranded 
 near Boulogne. A fisherman and pilot most courageously swam 
 off and got a rope from her, returned with it to the land. The 
 boat too was got out, and the convicts were about to be unironed 
 and released from their cells under deck, by order of the sur- 
 geon having charge of them, when the surgeon's wife prevented 
 it, and threw difficulty in the way of the arrangement, by 
 positively refusing to go in the same boat with them. Mean- 
 time the favourable moment for escape went by. The tide 
 rose ; the waves dashed against the ship, and entered her ri- 
 ven sides ; the shrieks and curses of the convicts a while rose 
 high above the storm ; ere long they were hushed in death. 
 The ship was overpowered and driven in pieces by the waves. 
 Of that fated crew, the boatswain and two seamen alone es- 
 caped to relate how horrible had been the scene. The pilot 
 and the fisherman were rewarded by the generous liberality of 
 
62 . THE AMERICAN IN EKC^LAND. 
 
 the English, ever ready to kindle at the relation of a deed of 
 heroism and humanity. Subscriptions were raised for them ia ■ 
 London. The English king made them pensioners of the state, 
 and the French one bestowed upon them the more characteris- 
 tic and more economical reward of the riband of the Legion of 
 Honour. The whole of these unhappy individuals, to the num- 
 ber of a hundred or more — I do not now remember how many 
 — ^lost their lives through the absurd scruples of a single female ; 
 a disaster which could only have been occasioned by that pe- 
 culiar sort of personage, an Englishwoman of what is called 
 the middling class. 
 
 I dreamed that night of storms, of wrecks, and the struggles 
 of drowning men. But the morning, notwithstanding the 
 prognostics of the watermen, dawned auspicuously. The 
 wind was still at west, blowing nearly down the river ; but 
 the weather was fine, and the breeze just suited to work 
 briskly. We got our anchor, and, running seaward to enter 
 the channel, commenced beating up, having the first of the 
 flood tide. The estuary of the Thames is a vast bay, about 
 forty miles across, and having an open, fine appearance in an 
 ordinary map. But when seen in the nicer delineation of the 
 mariner's chart, it presents a frightful collection of banks, 
 shoals, and dangers, which the tide reveals and makes bare at 
 low water, and which at other times are only distinguished by 
 the position of buoys of various colours; for the shore on either 
 hand is low, remote, destitute of objects suitable for land- 
 marks, and is in most cases rendered indistinct, or totally 
 hidden from view, by the prevailing obscurity of the atmoa*' 
 phere. The names of these shoals are not unfrequently but: 
 too well suited to recall the tales of shipwreck and dire dis- 
 aster with which each is associated. Among these occur the 
 euphonous and encouraging sounds of the Nob, Brake, Barrow^ 
 Kentish Knock, Galloper, Black Deeps, Spit, Sunk, and Ship^ 
 wash. Tlirough these the mariner has to make his way, tho 
 channel leading him not unfrequently over places which are 
 
THE THAMEiJ. 6&] 
 
 naked, and become land at ebb. Such almost everj^where is 
 the coast of England ; and the weekly lists of wrecks and 
 tales of perished crews during the season of storms, testify to 
 the reality of the dangers which beset her seamen. I am par- 
 ticularly anxious to impress these facts forcibly upon my 
 countrymen, in order that they may appreciate that feeling of 
 admiration, not unaccompanied with wonder and with awe, 
 with which I was approaching the metropolis of a country 
 which, though inconsiderable in extent, with a climate health- 
 ful indeed, yet unsuited to rich productions, and, on the whole, 
 unpropitious ; its coasts, destitute of natural harbours, exposed 
 to the inconvenience of excessive tides, and devastated by fre- 
 quent and frightful storms, has yet risen by commerce to an 
 eminence of wealth, power, and consideration, of which the 
 world had hitherto known no example. 
 
 The Hannibal, though a dull packet, easily distanced every 
 thing we met. A large West Indiaman had started an hour 
 before us from Margate ; yet we left her so far behind that we 
 were able to save our tide across certain flats, and get into 
 the main channel, where we would be able to avail ourselves 
 of the night's tide. The Indiaman, finding that the tide had 
 left her, was obliged to put her helm up and run back in 
 search of an anchorage, where she would have water enough 
 to float at low tide. While she was rapidly disappearing 
 with wind and tide, we came to an anchor and clewed our 
 sails up, holding all that we had made, and in readiness for 
 the next flood. We had thus gained certainly one day on her 
 in the arrival at London, possibly several, and perhaps it 
 might make the difference to her of a gale of wind and a ship- 
 wreck. As it was, the ship was in some danger. Had we 
 too been suddenly becalmed in crossing the flats, we should 
 have remained dry at the ebb, and possibly have bilged. The 
 pilots, however, understand their situation, and take care not 
 to cross the flats unless they are sure of a wind. 
 
 With the evening's tide we were again underweigh. Though 
 
64 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 at a distance from any lights to guide us, and surrounded by 
 ehoals and dangers; not being able, moreover, to make a 
 straight course, but being compelled to beat, the pilot yet con- 
 trived, by his accurate knowledge of the position of the shoals 
 and the depth of the soundings, as well as by his exact allow- 
 ance for the strength of the tide, so nicely to direct the course 
 of the ship, and calculate at all times her precise situation, 
 that ke actually made two buoys which it was all important 
 for us to see, and passed within a few feet of them. Yet at 
 this very time he was more than half drunk. As often as he 
 went about, so often did he "freshen the nip." But it did not 
 seem to stupify, but rather to excite him. He was as loqua- 
 cious as possible, and kept perpetually boasting that no pilot 
 but himself could have handled the ship as he had done that 
 night. The captain said that there was some truth in what 
 he said ; and, indeed, there were none but smacks and colliers 
 in sight. 
 
 As we approached the Nore, which, like Spithead, is ano- 
 ther great roadstead for the fleets of England, and bearing the 
 same relation to the neighbouring dock-yards of Chatham and 
 Sheerness that the latter does to Portsmouth, the channel nar- 
 rowed, and we made our way in the midst of an immense 
 fleet of vessels, beating up the river like ourselves ; for here 
 the various channels unite, and vessels, whether from the 
 North Sea or the Atlantic, join into one common current, and 
 move forward in a vast procession, bearing the tribute of every 
 clime to the commercial capital of the world. 
 
 The moon was up, and her yellow light gleamed in every 
 direction on the white canvass of so many vessels. It was 
 beautiful to behold the rapid interlacing of such a throng,, 
 ■which seemed at each instant to the eye to be running into 
 each other at every intersection, until they were again seen to 
 emerge in pride and safety. There is an order of the Trinity 
 House, a chartered company to whose guardianship the pilot- 
 age, buoys, beacons, lights, and various other interests of com- 
 
THE THAMES. 65 
 
 merce are intrusted, which requires all vessels, in approach- 
 ing the river, to get their studding-sail booms down, the irons 
 off the yards, and to remove every object which could hook or 
 entangle the rigging of another vessel, in the event of two ap- 
 proaching each other so closely. We were often near enough 
 to throw a biscuit on board of another vessel during the night ; 
 but we avoided any contact, and anchored at midnight off 
 Southgate. 
 
 The pilot now descended to the cabin, and commenced an 
 attack on a round of corned beef, with plentiful potations of 
 brandy. Having the second mate for a listener, he fought all 
 the battles of the night over again, and went into the parti- 
 culars of each separate tack, accompanying each, as before, 
 with its corresponding libation. I went to sleep while they 
 were yet carousing. More than once during the night I wag 
 awaked by the unquiet pilot, snoring and snorting like a 
 startled horse. He was called the next morning three sepa- 
 rate times ere he arose. The scene around us at daylight was 
 one of unbounded activity ; a hundred or more vessels, an- 
 chored about us, were hoisting their sails with the jovial glee 
 which becomes so lively as the sailor nears his port ; and the 
 palls of as many windlasses were clanging merrily as the an- 
 chors tripped. In consequence of the delay of the pilot in 
 getting up, the flood tide had made strongly ere we got onr 
 anchor. The wind, blowing directly down the river, drove 
 the ship over her anchor, and we lost an hour, besides exhaust- 
 ing the crew, before we also were under- weigh. Our consorts 
 of the night before all left us far behind ; but we were not 
 without company, for a new set had come up and gathered 
 round us ; for upward and downward, as far as the eye could 
 penetrate the haze, nothing but sheets of canvass were to be 
 Been ; the fluttering pinions of those winged messengers that 
 minister to the greatness of England. 
 
 The day was bright apparently, and the air mild, genial, 
 and balmy. No cloud obscured the sky : yet there was a 
 
66* THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 pervading and murky haze, which circumscribed the horiaon 
 in every direction within narrow limits, and through which 
 the sun loomed forth portentously. On either hand were the 
 low, marshy banks of the river, extending far back in monoto- 
 nous alluvial plains, not unlike the banks of the Delaware, or 
 those of the Guadalquivir, below Seville; while beyond, a 
 range of somewhat higher land was indistinctly seen looming. 
 The haze which overhung the scene was different from any 
 condition of the atmosphere with which my various rambles 
 had brought me acquainted. The captain and pilot both said 
 that it was occasioned by the smoke of London. We were 
 yet thirty miles off; but the wind blew directly from it, and, 
 as I had seen nothing similar, I was willing to believe the 
 thing possible. There was little encouragement, however, in: 
 the thought, that I was about to fix my abode, for an inde- 
 finite period, in a metropolis which was able, at the distance 
 oflialf a degree, already to overshadow every thing with such 
 an aspect of despair. 
 
 We had now left behind us the mouth of the Med way, and- 
 the vast estuary by which the Thames empties itself into 
 the sea. We had entered the river proper, having both shores 
 in sight, separated from each other at a distance varying from 
 one to two or three miles. Here the navigation, though cir- 
 cumscribed, becomes less intricate; the Channel extends 
 nearly everywhere from bank to bank, and we were able to 
 stretch completely across. The mass of vessels became here, 
 of course, more condensed. The whole expanse of the river 
 was covered with vessels ; ships, barques, brig«, schooners, 
 smacks, and cutters ; crossing rapidly from side to side, and 
 intersecting each other in all directions, until the canvass 
 darikened in the distance and blended with the mists. I 
 fancied that there might be something accidental in so vast a 
 concourse ; but the pilot and captain both told me that it is 
 ever the same. By day and by night, the ceaseless throngs of 
 arriving and departing vessels still pour on. 
 
THE THAMES, CQf) 
 
 The v/iiid was too light to enable the outward-bound to 
 dtem the tide. They lay, with their sails clewed down, at 
 their anchors. As we glided by them, some were recognised 
 as ludiamen, others as timber ships, others as emigrant ves- 
 sels, transporting to the remote countries of the East colonies 
 of Englishmen, destined to adapt to more auspicious climes 
 the laws, liberties) and arts x)f the mother countiy, and haply 
 to keep alive her literature and her language, together with 
 the memento of her greatness. One large black ship, whose 
 open ports displa3'ed gratings of stout iron bars, was bound 
 with convicts to Botany Bay. She was filled with criminals, 
 of a die of guilt and depth of depravity such as England only 
 can produce. They were the victims of a system of legisla- 
 tion, for centuries in the hands of the rich, and used by them 
 for the maintenance of their vantage ground, for the enslave- 
 ment of the poor, to secure to them and to their descendants 
 for ever, whatever profit is evolved by the efforts of labour, 
 conceding only to labour the food that sustains it. They might 
 be looked on as prisoners of war, captured in the battles of 
 that peri^etual contest which is kept up between property and 
 poverty. They were going into exile to the fertile fields of a 
 distant colony, which, however it may, and indeed must, be- 
 come one day great, can never wholly escape from the stigma 
 of its origin. 
 
 The steamers alone ascended or descended the river with- 
 out reference to the tide. Some of them, which I was told 
 w«re Scotch and Irish packets, were very large. They had 
 light masts and yards, to use in case of accident to their ma- 
 chinery' at sea, or with a fair wind. Some of them moved 
 with considerable velocity. Several smaller ones were em- 
 ployed in towing fishing-smacks to town, in order to get 
 fish to market in a fresher condition. AVe floated by the 
 anchored vessels, and by the banks of the river in our sidelong 
 course, coming repeatedly near enough to other vessels to have 
 jumped on board. One Newcastle brig came so close to us in 
 
68 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 tacking under our lee, that she was obliged to let her jib-boom 
 come in, brushing us within a foot. The colliers begged for 
 some tobacco. Our sailors immediately emptied their hats 
 and shirt bosoms, throwing all they had on the brig's fore- 
 castle, where there was a lively scramble for possession. In 
 consequence of the delay and neglect of the pilot in rising, we 
 did not reach Gravesend before the tide failed us; had we 
 done so, a steamer would instantly have taken us in tow, and 
 we should have reached London by the river at an early hour. 
 We should have passed Woolwich, which conveys so formid- 
 able an idea of England's power ; and Greenwich, which is so 
 magnificent a monument of her greatness and her generosity. 
 Thus I should gradually have approached the metropolis until 
 the dome of St. Paul's was discovered, under the canopy of 
 eternal smoke by which it is overhung ; and, arriving in the 
 midst of all the vast movement and activity of the Thames and 
 docks adjoining, thence to traverse its whole extent west- 
 ward, have realized that full impression of its wealth and 
 magnitude which 1 was so anxious to receive. As it was, the 
 captain and all the passengers were about to leave the ship. 
 Though there was no motive of impatience to impel me, and I 
 rather clung than otherwise to the ship which bore the flag 
 of my country, and where my condition had at least been 
 tolerable, yet I did not like to be left alone : so I packed up 
 and bundled my baggage and myself into the boat with the 
 rest. I bade good-by to the mate and the pilot, though I did 
 not thank him for disappointing me. The captain had pro- 
 mised him a guinea from his own pocket, provided we reached 
 Gravesend before the tide failed us. He gave it to him, though 
 he had failed through his own neglect when the thing had be- 
 come easy, because he had displayed so much skill the night 
 before. As I went down the side, I did not fail to shake hands 
 with an old shipmate of mine, who assisted me over ; for his 
 face called to mind happy days passed in a stout frigate in 
 
JOURNBT TO LONDOK. 69 
 
 more poetic seas, and gay companions with whom I had there 
 been associated. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JOURNEY TO LONDON. 
 
 Row to Gravesend. Dover Coach. Face of Country. Scenes on the Road. 
 Style of Vehicles. Appearance of Population. Management of the Coach. 
 Relays of Horses. Conversation. Approach London. Shops. Street 
 Rabble. Westminster. 
 
 We had a long and weary pull from the Hannibal to Graves- 
 end. The distance to be sure, was only four or five miles ; 
 but the tide was against us, and our boat was heavily laden. 
 We kept close to the shore, passing one or more black looking 
 hulks, the corpses of departed cruisers, anchored here as coast- 
 guard stations, receiving-vessels for seamen, or connected 
 with the police oi the river. The banks were naked, marshy^ 
 and very unsightly. One ragged, hungry-looking ruffian, 
 prowling along the shore, stopped to gaze at us as we passed. 
 There was something ludicrous in his appearance, and some 
 of our party could not suppress a smile. He was very near 
 having the laugh on us, however. A case containing a 
 chapeau, which had been rather insecurely perched on the top 
 of the luggage at the stern of the boat, had got overboard, and 
 had quietly embarked to make a little voyage of discovery on 
 its own account. Had it been Napoleon's little cocked hat, it 
 could not have set out on its travels more ambitiously. The 
 fellow was watching it with the eager spirit of a wrecker, 
 when we fortunately discovered it, and saved him the trouble 
 of putting in a claim for salvage. 
 
 Landing at the Custom-house quay, we were conducted to 
 the inspector's ofiBce, where a very rigorous search took place 
 for contraband articles. As the superior himself was present, 
 
"TO THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 the watermen, his subordinates, prosecuted their search Arith 
 so much fidelity, that we were relieved from the necessity of 
 bestowing on them the gratification which, in England as in 
 Spain or Italy, in the customary retainer for unfaithful services. 
 In France, as in our own country, this sort of tampering with 
 government officers is unknown. One very happy exemption 
 here, however, is from the vexation of passports. It is true 
 that aliens are by law required to produce them: but none 
 were demanded of us. AVe were therefore now free to remove 
 our luggage, and go unmolested and unquestioned to whatso- 
 ever comer of His Majesty's dominions either fancy- or fate 
 might lead us. We blessed the benignity of the laws, accepted 
 the boon, and made the best of our way to the Brunswick 
 Arms. 
 
 I may be mistaken in the name of the inn, but am sure, at 
 least, that it stood at the comer of the main street, being the 
 high road from Dover to London. It was a low, antiquated 
 brick building, having the exterior almost hidden under the 
 placards of coaches. AVithin was a bar, with a formidable 
 array of decanters and kegs of strong waters, duly labelled ; 
 and a safe, filled with cold joints of meat adjoining. The pre- 
 siding deity here was a tidy handmaid; plump, buxom, and 
 rosy, just then engaged in pumping, with one of a variety of 
 brass handles, a foaming tankard of " heavy wet" for a well- 
 known coachman, whose arrival a bugle was merrily announc- 
 ing. Beyond was seen a little parlour, plain though neat, to 
 which a seacoal fire imparted an air of cheerfulness ; illumin- 
 ing, as it flickered on an engraving, the huge protruding fish- 
 eye, and heavy animal-like countenance of the third George, 
 of glorious memory. 
 
 And now the rattling wheels, the cracking whip, and tramp- 
 ing hoofs of the Dover coach, called forth inn-keeper, bar- 
 maid, stable-boys, mischievous urchins, and all the idlers of 
 the neighbourhood. The horses were pulled back upon their 
 haunches, and stopped as if shot ; the reins were tlirown down 
 
JOURNEY TO LONDON. 71 
 
 on either side ; the whip given unceremoniously to the envied 
 occupant of the box-seat ; and the coachman descended, with 
 a princely air of condescension, to the dirty level of the earth. 
 A ladder was placed at the back of the coach for the accomo- 
 dation of some pretty and neatly-dressed young women, and 
 the guard, with decent and pious care, preserved their clothes 
 from discomposure as they descended backwards. 
 
 While the captain inquired for places, I read with curiosity 
 on the coach the ostentiously displayed words. Plough, Ship, 
 Elephant and Castle, Bull and Mouth, the names, as I after- 
 ward had occasion to learn, of well-known inns with which 
 the coach was in connexion. There were just five seats, cor- 
 responding exactly with our number ; two insides and three 
 cuts, as the guard hastened to assure us. Within the coach 
 was a grave, distinguished-looking gentleman, wjth a young 
 man, whom I supposed from his attention to -«« son. 
 
 Without were a number of young bloods, who seemed to .idve 
 been slightly Frenchified by a visit to Paris. Those who had 
 come on were much annoyed at the detention occasioned in 
 waiting for and loading our luggage. However, five passen- 
 gers were not to be despised ; and there was no use, as the 
 coachman said, to leave a couple of pounds on the road for the 
 Nimrod to pick up. The vexation of the passengers was not, 
 however, offensively expressed, and they endeavoured to be- 
 guile it by walking onward in advance, after the coachman, 
 mindful doubtless of his incoming shillings, had courteously 
 apologized to them for the detention. 
 
 I should have greatly preferred occupying the vacant seat 
 •which fell to our share in front, in order to see something of 
 the road, and catch a lively impression of my first entry into 
 London; but my English fellow-passenger, the graduate of 
 Cambridge, more mindful of his own convenience than of what 
 was due to the rules of good companionship, or the curiosity 
 of a stranger, hastened to possess himself of it without prelude 
 or apology. It only remained for me to mount to the less com; 
 
72 THE' AMERICAN IN ENftLAND. 
 
 modioua station behind, having my back to the horses, and my 
 vision, moreover, obscured in that direction by the toppling 
 mass of luggage that overhung me. There was something, 
 however, redeeming in my situation. Instead of the five bloods 
 disfigured by the super-added dandyism of London and Paris, 
 here were five ladies' maids, not wholly unsophisticated, as I 
 discovered in the course of the drive, yet far more attractive 
 than the dapdies. They formed part of the establishment of 
 some people of distinction or of wealth, who changed horses 
 at an adjoining post-house, and passed us at a gallop while 
 we were taking our seats. All except one had beauty of some 
 sort ; and not one of them had that curse of scragginess which 
 a writer, not less prejudiced than clever, ascribes, with what 
 truth I will not pretend to say, as an attribute to my country- 
 women. 
 
 It was natural enough that, even in this unhappy predica- 
 ment, I should endeavour to reap all the pleasure I could from 
 such a share of good things as the gods had sent me. Accord- 
 ingly, after carefully reconnoitring the premises, I proceeded to 
 plant myself opposite to a very fair-haired English girl, with 
 cheeks of carnation, a fresh mouth exhibiting an array of 
 strong white teeth, and overhung by a full, pouting lip ', while 
 beside me was another damsel, not less pretty, though in a 
 different style ; a Parisian grisette, apparently full of grace 
 and minauderies, whose coquettishly arranged attire, with its 
 well selected colours, evinced her qualifications, as a dame 
 d*atours, to preside at the toilet of an English elegante, and 
 correct the defective taste of the land. I was preparing, in 
 the spirit ol bonhommie, to make the best of my situation, when 
 the guard desired me, with little ceremony, to shift over, as 
 that was his post. I expostulated a moment with him ; but 
 he assured me that he must be there to attend the drag, and it 
 only remained for me to obey. I had to cross to the corres- 
 ponding station at the other side, having for my opponent th 
 only ugly female of the five, to %hom, I am grieved to say, I 
 
JOURNEY TO LONDON. 73 
 
 made no apology for increasing her discomfort, as 1 had be<- 
 fore done in the case of her fairer companion. 
 
 My situation here was uncomfortable enough ; if I were 
 softly cushioned on one side, this only tended, by the contrast, 
 to increase the obduracy of a small iron rod, which served as a 
 parapet to protect me from falling off the precipice, over which 
 I hung toppling, and against which I was forced with a pres- 
 sure proportioned to the circumstance of my being compressed 
 into a space somewhat narrower than myself; the seat having 
 doubtless been contrived to accommodate five men, and there 
 being no greater anatomical mistake than to suppose there 
 would be more room because four of them were women. 
 As for my back, it was invaded by the sharp comer of an 
 iron-bound box ; while, to complete the catalogue of my dis- 
 comforts, a row of superincumbent trunks, whose elevation 
 corresponded with my head, were from time to time vigorously 
 pushed against me by my identical fellow-passenger, who 
 took, unconsciously, this mode of reviving in my mind the 
 sense of his previous politeness. 
 
 I was of course in no condition to make observations on the 
 picturesque; and I think the reader would be cruel indeed 
 were he disposed to exact from me any account of this disas- 
 trous outset of my English travels. Nevertheless, I will tell 
 him how, when all was ready, six spirited horses, well groom- 
 ed and richly harnessed, the two leaders beiug conducted by 
 a trim postillion, in tight jacket, breeches, and top-boots, 
 whirled us into rapid motion ; how Gravesend did not affect 
 me with any particular impression of graudeur or beauty. 
 Yet it was not wholly wanting in that air of neatness and 
 cleanliness, which I was already disposed to consider an at- 
 tribute of the land. Every thing was on a sufficiently small 
 scale, to be sure ; but there were many little snuggeries, with 
 their green doors, highly-polished knockers, their well-trained 
 vines and creepers, and rows of flower-pots arranged within, 
 P 
 
f^ TBS AMERICAN IN BNGLAND. 
 
 that haply indicated the abode of retire^ ship-masters or de* 
 cent burghers, who placing the little competency whidi the 
 industry of their early life had secured to them beyond the 
 reach of accident, had settled here to end their days in com- 
 fort and peacefulness. It was not, indeed, to be expected, 
 that Gravesend should furnish any great claims to the admira- 
 tion of a stranger. It is an outport of London, the rendezouB 
 of outward and homeward-bound merchantmen, a species of 
 nautical colony, redolent of tar, cordage, gin, and tobacco, 
 and all that pertains to the unscrupulous tastes and inelegant 
 uses of the sea ; it was moreover, the opposite extreme to that 
 West End whose fame had travelled beyond the seas, and might 
 well, therefore, be accounted the antipodes of all that is elegant. 
 
 Had my bodily discomforts been a little abated, there were 
 however, scenes by the wayside which might have pleased my 
 eye, and imparted to my musings an agreeable colouring. The 
 country had not, by nature, a very picturesque conformation, 
 and was but slightly wooded. Neither were there, as yet, 
 any of those vast parks and venerable mansions which consti- 
 tute the marked attribute of the scenery of England, and attest 
 the magnificent tastes and unbounded wealth of her gentry. 
 Still there were lesser undulations of the soil, over which the 
 road wound gently, commanding, ever and anon, from the 
 mmmits, views of the busy and crowded river and the coun- 
 try around it. The scenes, though still of the same character, 
 were yet perpetually varying, as the road, defying the straight 
 lines of France, of Spain, and of my own country, gently and 
 capriciously meandering through valleys and hamlets, and 
 over little antiquated bridges that spanned the modest streara- 
 lets« On either side were hedges of hawthorn, elder, or holly 
 in the place of our less picturesque enclosures ; while the pre- 
 cincts of the estates were yet father marked by rows of bend- 
 ing elms. 
 
 There was occasionally a villa of a more modest character, 
 quaint, yet not ungraceful in its architecture, with a paddock 
 
JOURNEY TO LONDON. 75 
 
 stretching towards the road, whose short emeoth sward at 
 pony would be cropping, teased at his meal by the caresses of 
 a group of healthful children, under the guidance of a nurserj^- 
 maid. A cow might be seen submissively yielding to the 
 dairy-maid the healthful nutriment which was to accompany 
 the evening meal. At the sheltered side of the house, which 
 was usually overrun with ivy and eglantine, a small enclosure, 
 bounded by a neat railing of iron, formed the little flower- 
 garden, which still displayed the gaudy colouring of dahlias 
 and roses, with gold- trees and laurels prolonged the season of 
 verdure, and kept the idea of winter aloof. If there was no- 
 thing of luxury in all this, there was yet all that was required 
 to impart comfort and joy to a contented mind. I saw many 
 modest habitations like this, which, placed in my own country 
 on any one of the thousand unnoticed and unimproved site» 
 of my native Hudson, would have bounded the circle of my 
 unambitious hopes. 
 
 Even the cottages of the peasantry were not only comfort- 
 able and scrupulously neat, but were overgrown with creepers, 
 whose deep verdure added to the brightness of the freshly 
 whitewashed walls ; while here, too, flowers tastefully ar- 
 arranged in the winiow^, and a few evergreen plants cover- 
 ing the narrow space which usually separated them from the 
 highroad, gave evidence of a pervading good taste, not the 
 exclusive attribute of the rich ; and that embellishment was 
 not wholly shut out by the mandates of uncompromising 
 utility. 
 
 But the groups that covered the highroad, or lined thb 
 neatly-gravelled walks reserved for pedestrians at one side, 
 furnished a yet more exciting theme for contemplation. The 
 concourse was already great, and conveyed the idea of vast 
 population ; for the rush of stage-coaches, even at this dis- 
 tance from the capital, was immense. The travelling-car* 
 riages and post-coaches were passing in all directions, and the 
 variety of vehicles was infinite. The waggons and carts werfr 
 
76 THK AMERICAN IX ENGLAND. 
 
 of a far more ponderous description than with us ; the horses 
 being of a large, coarse breed, particularly adapted to farm- 
 labour and draught ; with drivers heavy and boorish like their 
 cattle. The pedestrians were either dressed in the common 
 costume of the day, such as universally prevails with us, or 
 else, when of the lowest classes, in frocks of blue cotton or 
 >of coarse linen, with corded breeches, leggings, and heavy 
 •shoes. They were, for the most part, sturdy and athletic. 
 They had more fulness of outline, freshness of complexion, 
 •and freedom from wrinkles, than the same classes in America , 
 but the advantage in physical conformation ceased in studying 
 their countenances, where the animal qualities seemed to pre- 
 'dominate; giving a doltish, stupid, and brutal air, that con- 
 vej^ed the idea of a degraded class, envious of their superiors, 
 discontented with their lot, and strangers, through many 
 generations, to moral and intellectual development. 
 
 Many bore the marks of intemperance ; at each instant we 
 passed little porter-houses and dram-shops, at which most of 
 the pedestrians halted, and which were filled with clamorous 
 drinkers. We saw several people reeling from drunkenness ; 
 one of them, being a soldier in his full accoutrements, and 
 benevolently accompained by two countrymen, carrying his 
 musket and supporting him. They were probably old ac- 
 quaintances, who, out of pure kindness, had made him drunk, 
 and were now re-conducting him to the barracks, and the 
 consequences of his misconduct. 
 
 We sped onward at a tearing rate over hill and valley ; the 
 road was as smooth as if laid with rails, and nothing impeded 
 the rocket-like rapidity of our course. Why should it ? In- 
 deed, if my memory does not mislead me, the Rocket was the 
 ambitious, yet not ill-worn, name of our conveyance. As we 
 were very heavily laden, a third pair of horses, with a 
 postillion, was added wherever the ground rose to the dignity 
 of a hill. This occasioned no delay; each horse had its at- 
 -tendant hostler, alike characteristic iu figure and in dress ' 
 
JOURNEY TO LONDON. 77 
 
 the descendant, no doubt, of a long line of horae-rubbiDg 
 ancestors ;" and the business of changing was managed with 
 admirable system and despatch. 
 
 * A wooden block, having a handle to it, was thrust under 
 the hind wheel the instant we drew up, by a gray-headed 
 retainer, woni out by hard working and harder drink ; or 
 prematurely superannuated by a kick, that left him to limp 
 and go sideways through the world for the rest of his life J 
 the coachman would nobly toss off the foaming tankard pre- 
 sented to him, and have time to offer some little couverstional 
 gallantry to the attendant and not unwilling tap-maid ; and» 
 ere a minute had flown by, the guard would say " All right!'' 
 as he ascended the back of the coach, the block be withdrawn, 
 and the horses, leaving their blankets behind them in the 
 hands of the hostlers, would dart away at a gallop. 
 
 Our coach, being greatly overladen, would have been 
 dangerously top-heavy on any roads but these. As it was, it 
 required much care in the descents. The guard was watchful 
 on all proper occasions to get the drag under the wheel, an 
 operation which occasioned little loss of time from his dexter- 
 ous activity. Hardly would we stop before the word " Right ;* 
 sharply repeated, would serve in itself to set the horses in 
 motion. He was a cheery, gay Lothario, this guard of ours, 
 who had already, in the journey from Dover, made immense 
 advances in the good graces of the fair waiting-maids, and 
 had especially found favour in the sight of the cherry-lipped, 
 laughing damsel opposite him. 
 
 The intelligence which had grown up between them in so 
 short a time was astonishing. It would have been cruel 
 had my obstinacy in the ouset interrupted the mutual yearn- 
 ing. " Don't go !" she would say to him, with a tender unc- 
 tion, when it was necessary for him to fix the drag. " You 
 can't tell what a difference it makes when you're gone ; its so 
 cold !" Just before, when one of the others had complain ed 
 of the growing cold, a feeling which I shiveringly responded 
 
15^ THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 to my very bones, she replied with a charming inconsequ- 
 ence. " La me Susan ! how can you say so ? I'm so hot. I'm 
 burning this very minute!" 
 
 It was singular to compare the lively and consecutive con- 
 versation of the French girl, in her broken English, with the 
 vailly, random, fligging discourse of her companions, which 
 was often interrupted by long pauses. They produced pro- 
 visions of various sorts from their work-bags, and ate fre- 
 quently. One of them, moreover, drew forth a little flaslj 
 being a better description of pocket-pistol, charged with wine. 
 They seemed, indeed, armed at all points ; were most comfort- 
 ably clad, and many articles of their dress were of a rich 
 quality, which indicated the rejected finery of their ladies. 
 ^* Are you warm, Susan?" — " No, Maria, I'm ungry; where 
 are the sandwiches?" — " We are so fortunate to have such 
 fine weather. What would we have done had it only 
 rained?" — "Sunday was a very fine day. It was so lively 
 on the pier." — " The wind was very high," said Maria. 
 '^^ It rained very ard," rejoined Susan; who, just before, had 
 lauded the beauty of the weather. After pauses of silence, 
 followed each time by a meal, their ideas would start forward 
 and the conversation be resumed. We were slowly ascend- 
 ing a hill, when one who seemed sleepy roused to ask if we 
 were going down. "No," said the guard, chuckling at the 
 idea of the good thing he was about to utter, " we be going 
 up, as we often has to do in this world !" This, I afterward 
 found, might be considered a rare and splendid ebullition of 
 popular wit. Countrymen of Sancho Panza ! What, in this 
 land of popular dulness, shall console me for your shrewd and 
 ingenious cleverness, and your sententious humour ? 
 
 "Is this Blackheath?" I thought of the olden time, and 
 looked round for mounted robbers with blackened faces and 
 in masks. Susan and the guard were talking matrimony. 
 The poor fellow was querulously complaining, with an air of 
 affected sentiment, that nobody would have him. He did 
 
JOURNEY TO LONDON. 7^ 
 
 not stay long enough in one place ; he waa here to-day aod 
 th&re to-morrow ; one night sleeping in Dover, the next in 
 London ; there was no time for love-making. Then'pray what 
 are you about now ? thought I to myself; for I had not the 
 heart to interrupt him. Sasan encouragingly protested, that 
 if she were not married within the year, it would be some- 
 body else's fault besides hers. 
 
 Presently they all ta Iked fashion ; they asked if anybody 
 was in town ; it was decided that there was nobody there. 
 In the month of May or June, then, indeed, the town would 
 be so delightful, and the country so odious. I had expec- 
 ted to find near two millions of people in London, and 
 was now shocked to hear that there would be nobody 
 there ; or the next thing to it, nobody but nobodies. These 
 fair ladies' maids seemed to have the same sort of contempt 
 for masses and for the ignoble vulgar, that the negroes of rich 
 planters in Virginia have for those unfortunate people who 
 fall under denomination of "poor white folks." 
 
 Various were the towns we passed through, and countless 
 Were the objects that caught my eye, and presented them- 
 selves as curious to my imagination. The sky was unobscured 
 by a single cloud, yet the stars in vain struggled to reveal 
 themselves through the thick and murky medium which man 
 had interposed. The moon, though at the full, shone not 
 through the lurid smoke, but seemed hung over head like 
 a gas-light of greater magnitude, or an ill-illuminated bal- 
 loon. At length we traversed Deptford, and the chain of 
 lioases became nearly continuous on either hand until we 
 entered the borough of Southwark, and, surrounded by a per- 
 petually increasing concourse, reached a great fork where 
 many of the principal avenues for Surrey, Sussex, and Kent 
 unite, and which, from the name of au ancient inn^ is called 
 the Elephant and Castle. 
 
 Who can realize the uproar, the deafening din, the rush, the 
 vast movement in various and conflicting directions ; the con- 
 
80 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 fusion, which yet seemed strangely enough to result in order ; 
 and the pervading bustle of that scene, so teeming with activ- 
 ity and life ? I was stunned, confused, overpowered, heart- 
 sick, at the sight of so immense an assemblage of my fellow- 
 creatures with whom I had no feeling of sympathy. There 
 •was a dazzling blaze of light from shops and lamp-post? to 
 aid the obstructed efforts of the moon, and unbounded anima- 
 tion in the scene, yet there was nothing that was cheering. 
 • The dark masses of dwelling-houses had a confined, narrow 
 gloomy, and lugubrious aspect. They were of brick, without 
 window-sills of marble or other coloured stone ; unpainted, 
 and unenlivened by blinds. They were closely shut, and the 
 glimpses of cheerfulness and domestic comfort exhibited in 
 our streets were here unseen. All the shops were open to the 
 weather ; many of them having the whole front removed, and 
 gas-lights blazing and streaming like great torches, rather 
 than with the puny and flickering illumination seen in ours. 
 The articles were completely exposed to view at the side of 
 the street: clothing, provisions, crockery, hardware; what- 
 ever is necessary to the wants of man. The druggists, with 
 their variegated vases, as with us, cast the iris hues of their 
 nauseous mixtures into the street. Sellers of cheap goods 
 exposed them in the windows, with their prices labelled. The 
 butchers hung out beef, pork, sausages, and enormous coarse 
 sheep, in a nearly whole state, with sometimes the price af- 
 fixed to the inferior portions, in order that the poor might 
 judge whether the price they had received for their day's la- 
 bour would compass a meal of meat ; or whether they should 
 seek a diet more suited to their means, of a neighbouring po- 
 tato-merchant ; or whether to turn in despair, as many of the 
 most wretched seemed to do, to accept the flattering invita- 
 tion of the magnificent gin-palace at the comer. 
 
 It was the most splendid building of the neighbourhood ; 
 built with some little architectural elegance, whose effect was 
 magnified by the unadorned character and gloomy air of the 
 
JOURNEY TO LOKDON. 81 
 
 surrounding edifices. A beautiful gas-light, in a richly orna- 
 mented lamp, stood as an inviting beacon, visible in many 
 diverging directions. The windows were glazed with costly 
 plate-glass, bearing inscribed, in illuminated letters, the words 
 — " gin at threepence — generous wines — hot spiced ;" and the 
 door surrounded by stained panes of rich die, having rosettes, 
 bunches of grapes, and gay devices. The art which once wa» 
 reserved for the ornament of temples, and was made to ideal- 
 ize on Gothic windows the lives of saints and martyrs, is here 
 no longer the attribute of religion alone, but serves to lure the 
 poor and the vicious of England to greater poverty and more 
 abject vice. There was a singular moral in the contrast be- 
 tween the magnificence of this temple of misery and the wan 
 and tattered aspect of its votaries. It was an obvious exam- 
 ple of the connexion of cause and effect, and seemed intended 
 as a ludicrous illustration and mockery of their fate. And yet 
 they entered ; men and women ; the last, moreover, in num- 
 bers not inferior to the men ; sometimes, too, with children by 
 the hand ; sometimes pressed, in the helpless state of infancy, 
 to their polluted bosoms. 
 
 1 know nothing more exhilarating than to be suddenly 
 ushered in the night into a populous quarter of a great city. 
 My recollection readily conjures up the impressions made upon 
 me under similar circumstances in entering Paris, Madrid 
 Brussels, Milan, or gay and lively Naples. The lower classes, 
 with their good humour,, their quaint drollery and sprightli- 
 ness, there offer the most agreeable objects of contemplation. 
 Here, however, there was in the corresponding classes nothing 
 pleasing, or even picturesque. All seemed in search of food, 
 of the means of intemperance, and of gratifying low and brutal 
 passions. The idea of amusement had evidently no place. The 
 streets swarmed with abandoned women, filthy in their dress, 
 open, brutal, and indecent in their advances. 
 
 In the place of the guitar, the serenade, the nnisical cries of 
 D 5 
 
THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 cbestniit-wonijen, lemonade-sellers, and watermen, the sound 
 here were harsh and grating; uttered in words ill pronounced 
 and nasally prolonged, or in an unintelligible and discordant 
 alang, which I no longer recognised as belonging to my own 
 language. In the place of skilful musicians performing the 
 favourite airs of Mozart or Rossini, or the witty colloquies of 
 the sententious Punchinello, the poor were invited, in the 
 nasal twang of clamorous mountebanks, to amuse themselves 
 by a sight of the latest cases of seduction, murder, suicide, 
 and hanging, represented in the shadows of the camera-ob- 
 scura. I dare say many an unprejudiced Englishman has 
 made the same observations, and noticed the same contrasts 
 in the manners of the lower classes, in returning from foreign 
 countries to his own. 
 
 At the Elephant and Castle we discharged a number of our 
 , passengers, who took omnibuses or hackney-coaches to convey 
 thiejii to the City, or to some of the suburban districts. There 
 was quite a rush of hackney-coachmen, porters, and omnibus- 
 drivers, to secure the employment thus thrown into the mar- 
 ket, and cries of " Paddipgton — Angel — Bank" — were loudly 
 and nasally vociferated. This done, we set forward again at 
 a rapid rate. Not seeing before me, I was astonished that, 
 whirling onward in this way, we should escape contact with 
 the countless vehicles which were rushing in every direction. 
 The space necessary to pass seemed calculated to the inch, 
 aad though each instant a crash seemed inevitable, the next 
 Kaw us in safety. I had never before seen such accurate 
 <i3riving. 
 
 The omnibuses were of similar form to ours ; but the hack- 
 ney-coaches were filthy, lumbering, and tattered, and the 
 drivers and their horses were equally sorry and jaded. The 
 liAckney-cabriolets struck me as being very peculiar. Tliey 
 •had a body having seats for two, while the driver was perched 
 ^part, on a little seat which formed an excrescence to the 
 bo'^". and overhung the wheel, so as to enable him to calcu- 
 
JOURNEY TO LONDON. 
 
 late the space in passing another carriage with the niceat ac- 
 curacy. These drove at a furious rate. The vehicles differed 
 from ours, in general, by being lower hung, and having much 
 smaller wheels, the roads here being so much smoother and 
 more free from ruts. They were, as a general ruie, heavier 
 and stronger, though they did not strike me as being of better 
 form or higher finish. They were, however, infinitely more 
 various in character. There were heavy carriages, and chariots 
 driven by neat postillions ; gigs drawn by active cobe, re-con- 
 ducting weary citizens to the comforts of a suburban resi- 
 dence; and, not to mention dog-carts and donkey chaises, 
 there were frequently very low, diminutive vehicle?, drawn by 
 ponies, and driven by old women. 
 
 In traversing Westminster Bridge we took leave at once of 
 the inelegant suburb, with its coarse and brutal population* 
 For a moment, as we turned the centre arch, I caught sight 
 of the upward and downward course of the stream, spanned 
 by so many illuminated bridges, traversed by wherries with 
 twinkling lights, and skirted on either side by irregular habi- 
 tations, whose squalidity the darkness partially concealed, as 
 it did all but the vast proportions of that Hall and Abbey 
 which are connected with all the great events of England's 
 history. I lox>ked with a feeling of intense interest to tke 
 walls which have echoed with the eloquence of her greatest 
 men, and to the lofty roof and towers of that venerable shrine 
 where repose the ashes of her patriots, poets, and sages. 
 
 Leaving Westminster Hall and Abbey behind us, we sped 
 through Parliament-street and Whitehall. The way waa 
 broad and stately, suited to the avenue by which the consti- 
 tutional monarch of a great people was wont to approach the 
 scene of th^ir deliberations. On either hand were palaces of 
 the nobility, or edifices connected with the machinery of state. 
 Here were the Horse Guards, the Treasury, the Admiralty, and 
 the entrance to Downing-street. Here the greatest affairs 
 
^ THB AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 are agitated ; and hence, more than from any place tlee, are 
 the destinies of the world controlled. 
 
 As in the buildings, so also in the equipages and all ex- 
 ternal objects, was there a marked difference in passing from 
 Southwark to the more elegant precincts of St. James's. At 
 Charing Cross we passed the bronze statue of that amiable 
 and interesting prince, the site of whose execution we had the 
 moment before traversed. Turning from this to the left we 
 entered Pall Mall, among magnificent club-houses, having the 
 air of palaces. On all sides were statues, columns, and all 
 the attributes of wealth, splendour, and magnificence. And 
 thus did I make my triumphant entry into the capital of Eng- 
 land, and the glories of the West End, upon the back of a 
 stage-coach, weighed down and persecuted by boxes and lug- 
 frage, and jammed up and inserted among five chambermaids. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COLONNADE HOTEL. 
 
 leave the Coach. Anangement of the Inn. Coffe-room. Tite-4-t^te with a 
 Sirloin. Dining Groups. Scene of Dulness. Breakfast and the Times. 
 
 Had Monsieur Feuillade not been a Frenchman, I have my 
 doubts whether I should have been received with any particu- 
 lar courtesy at the Colonnade Hotel. An English innkeeper of 
 the West End would probably have kept aloof altogether from 
 an unfortunate " outside," stowed away, moreover, upon that 
 part of the coach which is the farthest possible removed from 
 aristocracy, and in the unworshipful company of bouncing 
 ladies' maids. At best, he would have left him to scramble 
 down as he might, by the aid of an inferior " boots," and 
 find his way to the top of the house under the guidance of one 
 of the chambermaid's subordinates. 
 As it was, I had no reason to complain of any ungracious 
 
 I 
 
THE COLONNADE HOTEL. $6 
 
 reception. Perhaps the natural courtesy of Monsieur Fenillade'e 
 country was aided, at that conjuncture, by the reflection that 
 the town was very empty, and his house also ; and that even 
 an humble guest without suite or equipage was better than 
 no one. But where is the use of digging deep for a sordid 
 motive, when a kind and creditable one stands staring upon 
 you at the surface ? The waiters held their arms and aided 
 me to descend. I was in need alike of assistance and sympa- 
 thy. My feet were numb with cold; my unfortunate leg, 
 which had so long dangled in unsustained dependence over the 
 side of the coach, absolutely refused duty. I hobbled through 
 the colonnade, and entered the vestibule. It was paved with 
 black and white marble, in lozenges ; at the side of the door 
 was a commodious chair, having a hood at the top. It was 
 covered with greon morocco, and padded, and evidently in- 
 tended for the convenience of the porter who should watch 
 during the night for the admission of the guests, without oc- 
 casioning delay to them, disturbance to the house, or any very 
 positive discomfort to himself. Against the wall, on either 
 hand, hung a clock, a thermometer, and a weather-glass, that 
 every guest, as he went out, might here obtain, without the 
 trouble of asking (jnestions, such information as concerned 
 him. 
 
 At the extremity of the vestibule was a low counter, be- 
 -hind which sat a pretty and ^neatly-dressed young woman, 
 with a pen in her hand, and a book of accounts before her. 
 She was taking down an order for dinner, given through a 
 small window from the adjoining coffee-room, in order that 
 No. 10 might not only be sure of getting what he called for, 
 but likewise, as was indeed just and reasonable, of duly pay- 
 ing for it. Beyond her, in the distance, might be discovered 
 a glimpse of a dresser and furnaces, over which presided an 
 artist, whose white apron, jacket, and cotton night-cap, an- 
 nounced a member of one of the most respectable and esti- 
 mable classes of rrciuhmcr.. To the kft, a double docr^ 
 
86 THE AM£BICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 opening either way, from which came the sound of knives 
 and forks, showed the entrance to the coffee-room; to the 
 right was the stairway leading to the apartments above, 
 up which the chambermaid hastened to conduct me. 
 
 My room was not very high up. It was carpeted and cur- 
 tained; the bed had a heavy tester; there were decanters, 
 large and small pitchers, china foot-tubs, a stand with an 
 array of clean napkins, and various continental luxuries scat- 
 tered about the room; among which I was delighted to notice 
 a spacious fauteuil. Indeed, when the fuel, which was pre- 
 pared in readiness, had been kindled, and the chambermaid, 
 who was tidy, officious, and obliging, had pulled down the 
 window-screens, the place had an air of decided comfort, and 
 seemed very habitable. 
 
 Having inquired if there were baths in the house, I was 
 happy in being answered in the affirmative; and, presently 
 after, was shown into one, at no great distance from my own 
 room, which equalled in comfort, spaciousness, luxurious ap- 
 pliances, almost any that I remembered to have seen. Glow- 
 ing delightfully as I left the bath-room, improved in my dress 
 and feelings, I felt reconciled to myself and to the land. 
 And now for dinner. I could not discover, indeed, that I 
 was hungry ; but it was only eight o'clock, and there were 
 some hours of time to be gotten rid of. 
 
 The coffee-room, into which I now entered, was a spacious 
 apartment of oblong form, having two chimneys with coal 
 fires. The walls were of a dusky orange ; the windows at 
 either extremity were hung with red curtains, and the whole 
 sufficiently well illuminated by means of several gas chande- 
 liers. I hastened to appropriate to myself a vacant table by 
 the side of the chimney, in order that I might have some 
 company besides my own musing, and be able, for want of 
 better, to commune with the fire. The waiter brought me 
 the carte, the list of which did not present any very attrac- 
 tive variety. It struck me as very insulting to the pride of 
 
THE COLONNADE HOTEL. 
 
 the Frenchman, whom I had caught a glimpse of on entering, 
 not to say extremely cruel, to tear him from the joys and pas- 
 times of his belle France, and conduct him to this land of 
 fogs, of rain, and gloomy Sundays, only to roast sirloins and 
 boil legs of mutton. 
 
 The waiter, who stood beside me in attendance, very re- 
 spectfully suggested that the gravy-soup was exceedingly 
 good ; that there was some fresh sole, and a particular nice 
 piece of roastbeef. Being very indifferent as to what I ate, 
 or whether I ate any thing, and moreover quite willing to be 
 relieved from the embarrassment of selecting from such an 
 unattractive bill of fare, I laid aside the carte, not however 
 before I had read, with some curiosity, the following singular 
 though very sensible admonition, " Gentlemen are particularly 
 requested not to miscarve the joints." 
 
 I amused myself with the soup, sipped a little wine, and 
 trifled with the fish. At length I found myself face to face 
 with the enormous sirloin. There was something at least in 
 the rencounter which conveyed the idea of society ; and so- 
 ciety of any sort is better than absolute solitude. 
 
 I was not long in discovering that the different personages 
 scattered about the room in such an unsocial and misan- 
 thropic manner, instead of being collected about the same 
 board, as in France or my own country, and, in the spirit of 
 good fellowship and of boon companions, relieving each other 
 of their mutual ennuis, though they did not speak a word to 
 each other, by which they might hereafter be compromised 
 and socially ruined, by discovering that they had made the 
 acquaintance of an individual several grades below them in 
 the scale of rank, or haply as disagreeably undeceived by the 
 abstraction of a pocket-book, still kept up a certain inter- 
 change of sentiment, by occasional glances and mutual obser- 
 vation. Man, after all, is by nature gregarious and social; 
 and though the extreme limit to which civilization has at- 
 tained in this highly artificial country may have instructed 
 
88 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 people how to meet together in public places of this descrip- 
 tion without intermixture of classes or mutual contamination, 
 yet; they cannot, for the life of them, be wholly indiflPerent to 
 each other. Though there was no interchange of sentiments 
 by words then, yet there was no want of mutual observation, 
 sedulously concealed indeed, but still revealing itself in a 
 range of the eye, as if to ask a question of the clock, and in 
 furtive glances over a book or newspaper. 
 
 In tlie new predicament in which I was now placed, the 
 sirloin was then exceedingly useful. It formed a most ex- 
 cellent line of defence, an unassailable breastwork, behind 
 which I lay most completely intrenched, and defended at all 
 points from the sliarp-shooting of the surrounding observers. 
 The moment I found myself thus intrenched, I began to re- 
 cover my equanimity, and presently took courage — bearing 
 in mind always the injunction of the bill of fare, not to mis- 
 carve the joints — to open an embrasure through the tender 
 loin. Through this I sent my eyes sharp-shooting towards 
 the guests at the other end of the room, and will, if the 
 reader pleases, now furnish him with the result of my observa- 
 tions. 
 
 In the remote corner of the coffee-room sat a party of three. 
 They had finished their dinner, and were sipping their wine. 
 Their conversation was carried on in a loud tone, and ran 
 upon lords and ladies, suits in chancery, crim. con. cases, and 
 marriage settlements. I did not hear the word dollar once ; 
 but the grander and nobler expression of thousand pounds 
 occurred perpetually. Moreover, they interlarded their dis- 
 course abundantly with foreign reminiscences and French 
 words, coarsely pronounced, and awfully anglicised. I drew 
 the conclusion from this, as well as from certain cant phrases, 
 and vulgarisms of expression in the use of their own tongue, 
 such as "regularly done" — '-'completely floored," — "split the 
 difference," that they were not the distinguished people of 
 which they Ittboured to convey the impressioD. 
 
TBE COLONNADE HOTEL. 89 
 
 In the comer opposite this party of three, vrho were at the 
 cost of all the conversation of the coffee-room, sat a long- 
 faced, straight-featured individual, with thin hair and 
 ■whiskers, and a bald head. There was a bluish tinge about 
 his cheek-bones and nose, and he had, on the whole, a some- 
 what used look. He appeared to be reading a book which be 
 held before him, and which he occasionally put aside to glance 
 at a newspaper that lay on his lap, casting, from time to 
 time, furtive glances over book or newspaper at the colloquial 
 party before him, whose conversation, though he endeavoured 
 to conceal it, evidently occupied him more than his book. 
 
 Half-way down the room, on the same side, sat a very tall, 
 rosy young man, of six-and-twenty or more ; he was sleek, 
 fair-faced, with auburn hair, and, on the whole, decidedly 
 handsome, though his appearance could not be qualified as dis- 
 tinguished. He sat quietly and contentedly, with an air of 
 the most thoroughly vacant bonhommie, never moving limb 
 or muscle, except when, from time to time, he lifted to hie 
 mouth a fragment of thin biscuit, or replenished his glass from 
 the decanter of black-looking wine beside him. I fancied 
 from his air of excellent health, that he must be a country 
 gentleman, whose luxuriant growth had been nurtured at a 
 distance from the gloom and condensation of cities. I could 
 not determine whether his perfect air of quiescence and re- 
 pose were the effect of consummate breeding, or simply a 
 negative quality, and that he was not fidgety only because 
 troubled by no thoughts, no ideas, and no sensations. 
 
 There was only one table between his and mine. It was 
 occupied by a tall, thin, dignified-looking man, with a very 
 grave and noble cast of countenance. I was more pleased 
 with him than with any other in the room, from the quiet, 
 musing, self-forgetfulness of his air, and the mild and civil 
 manner in which he addressed the servants. These were 
 only two in number, though a dozen or more tables were 
 spread around, each capable of seating four persons. They 
 
90 THE AMERICAN IN EN&LAND. 
 
 were well-dressed, decent-looking men, who came and went 
 quickly, yet quietly, and without confusion, at each call for 
 George or Thomas. The patience of the guests seemed un- 
 bounded, and the object of each to destroy as much time as 
 possible. The scene, dull as it was, furnished a most favour- 
 able contrast to that which is exhibited at the ordinaries of 
 our inns, or in the saloons of our magnificent steamers. 
 
 Having completed my observations under cover of the 
 sirloin, I deposed my knife and fork, and the watchful waiter 
 hastened to bear away the formidable bulwark by whose aid 
 I had been enabled to reconnoitre the inmates of the coffee- 
 room. A tart and some cheese followed, and then some dried 
 fruits and thin wine biscuits completed my repast. Having 
 endeavoured ineffectually to rouse myself from the stupefac- 
 tion into which I was falling, by a cup of indifferent coffee, I 
 wheeled my capacious arm-chair round, and took refuge from 
 surrounding objects by gazing in the fire. 
 
 The loquacious party disappeared on their way to Drury 
 Lane, having decided, after some discussion, that the hour for 
 half price had arrived. The saving of money is an excellent 
 thing ; without economy, indeed, there can scarcely be any 
 honesty. But, as a question of good taste, discussions about 
 money matters should be carried on in a quiet and under-tone 
 in the presence of strangers. When they had departed, a 
 death-like stillness pervaded the scene. Occasionally, the 
 newspaper of the thin gentleman might be heard to rumple 
 as he laid it aside or resumed it ; or the rosy gentleman from 
 the country awoke the awful stillness by snapping a fragment 
 of biscuit, or depositing his wine-glass upon the table. Then 
 all was again silent, save when the crust of the seacoal fire 
 fell in as it consumed, and the sleepy, simmering note in 
 which the tea-kettle, placed by the grate in readiness either for 
 tea or toddy, sang on perpetually. 
 
 I sank into a lethargy from which it was impossible to arouse 
 myielf ; despondency took possession of me, I abandoned myself 
 
THE COLONNADE HOTEL. 91 
 
 to the most melancholy musings. The dingy walls, the sober 
 illamination, the dim glare of the fires struggling to reveal 
 themselves through the dense smoke, the awful and unbroken 
 stillness and quiescence of a scene in which restless man was 
 yet the principal actor, all bore upon me with a nightmare 
 and overpowering pressure. The spirit of dulness and stupe- 
 faction seemed to hover over us with leaden wings. I cast 
 ray eyes round in despair in search of something that might 
 arouse me. The first object that presented itself was my own 
 face, reflected back from the mirror with an expression more 
 than usually sullen; looking next along the dark yellow 
 walls, I caught sight of the various cloaks of the guests, 
 suspended from hooks, and each surmounted by its correspond- 
 ing hat. I thought of the " spectral box-coats" of my ini- 
 mitable friend, Geoffrey Crayon ; and would have given the 
 world, in that moment of despondency, for one of his quiet 
 unwritten jokes, or one friendly pressure of his hand. 
 
 My thoughts had taken a most gloomy turn; there was only 
 one object which, by awakening my curiosity, seemed a little to 
 excite me. On either mantel stood a singular and curious 
 pair of little scales, such as I had never before seen. From 
 one end of the beam was suspended a small weight, which 
 rested in a socket at the bottom ; from the other hung a fiat 
 hook, whose use I could not conceive, unless it were to re- 
 ceive papers, or a letter. The scales were evidently calculated 
 only to poise articles of one given weight. What could be 
 their uses ? My curiosity was greatly excited, and I lived in 
 the hope of learning on the morrow. 
 
 At nine the next morning, the tidy chambermaid, after a 
 modest knock at the door, entered my room with a pitcher of 
 hot water, and quickly kindled the fire. When I rose I found 
 traces of Boots havmg been in my room, in the nice polish 
 which he had left on his leathern namesakes, and in the neat 
 arrangement of my well-brushed clothes. An hour after I 
 made my entry into the coffee-room, which I found almost 
 
92 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 entirely unoccupied, few of the guests having yet risen. 
 Breakfast was soon brought to me, and I found the butter, 
 the cream, and the muffins excellent. Each person made his 
 own tea, being furnished with canisters of two kinds, and the 
 water brought by the waiter in a boiling state from the ad- 
 joining fireplace. On a table in the centre of the room were 
 set out joints of cold meat, to which the guests carried their 
 plates to supply themselves. 
 
 I asked for the Times. The oracle was placed in my hand, 
 full of news not an hour old. There was one undoubted ad- 
 vantage of being in London, that of feeling that you were at 
 the head-quarters of the world for intelligence of every kind. 
 I read the leading articles, which were full of ability, and 
 then went regularly through the paper, my curiosity being 
 perpetually excited at the strange things that were there re- 
 counted : how, for instance, one Captain James Sargeant sued 
 for a divorce from Harriet, his wife, on the ground of adultery ; 
 and how the said Harriet set up, as allegation in bar to the 
 suit, the plea of recrimination, charging her husband with 
 adultery in return ; secondly, with collusion and connivance 
 on his part in the adultery of his wife : how Tom M'Gill was 
 indicted at the Middlesex Sessions for feloniously assaulting 
 his wife, and breaking the collar-bone of his child, the dispute 
 having arisen about the expenditure of money given her to buy 
 mourning for her child, then lying dead in the house. The 
 said M'Gill had charged his wife with spending the money in 
 liquor ; she, denying the same, was then and there knocked 
 down, jumped upon, and, while apparently dead, her finger 
 was by the said Thomas nearly bitten through, to ascertain if 
 life were extinct ; upon which she revived, crawled into the 
 street, where, fainting, she was found drenched with blood by 
 a policeman, and remained labouring under an affection of the 
 brain : how John Barnes had wantonly and feloniously maim- 
 ed, by cutting his hamstrings, a pony gelding, the property of 
 Thomas Cheshire the younger : how a gentleman of elegant 
 
THE COLONNADE HOTEL. 93 
 
 appearance, by the name of Coyle, had swindled the unfortu- 
 nate Mr. Dalton of a superb dressing-case : how the paupers 
 of St. George's parish had struck in the workhouse, and stood 
 out for labouring diet : how Dr. Blick, in driving quietly in 
 his cabriolet, was stopped by the mutes attendant upon a 
 funeral, and severely beaten by their maces : how Mr. Roths- 
 child had been discomposed, and the financial operations of the 
 world interrupted, by some impertinent individual, who had 
 taken possession of his peculiar pillar in the Exchange. Fi- 
 nally, how Henry Mason was charged with extorting from 
 Samuel Singer, coal -merchant, the value of six shillings and 
 sixpence, under a threat of accusing him of an indecency. 
 When I put all these evidences of an advanced civilization to- 
 gether, occurring in a single day's history of a single metro- 
 polis, and contrasted it with the simple rusticity of my own 
 country, I felt quite overwhelmed at the idea of how much 
 we have to learn before we can even enter into a comparison, 
 The venerable and benevolent looking man was seated near 
 me at the same table as the previous night. He had already 
 finished his breakfast, glanced at one or two papers, and, the 
 waiter having furnished him with a small leathern portfolio, 
 went on to write a number of letters. He then proceeded to 
 direct them ; and when he had done this, the waiter approach- 
 ed with a letter which I had noticed one of the young men of 
 the talking-party the night before in the act of placing in his 
 hand, with some particular injunction, in a low tone of voice, 
 as he was going away to the theatre. The waiter addressed 
 the benevolent gentleman in a very respectful manner, and 
 begged, if he had a spare frank, he would oblige him with it 
 for that letter. The benevolent gentleman immediately com- 
 plied, after counting the letters which he had himself written, 
 and others which he took from his pocket, and finding that he 
 had not completed the number which he was entitled to frank 
 daily for any one given post-office, which I afterward found to 
 be ten. He proceeded to copy the address, whicli was pen- 
 
94 THE AMERICAN IN EN^lAND. 
 
 cilled on the reverse, in his hand, writing out the date and his 
 own name, as I presently discovered ; for, having some doubts 
 whether the letter were not over the legal weight for a frank, 
 he sent the waiter to test it in the little scales on the mantel- 
 piece before me. It was placed upright, with the direction 
 towards me, and proved to be within the rule. This singular 
 effort to save a few shillings by seeking a favour, through a 
 waiter, of an unknown person, struck me as being very strange 
 at the time, and correborated the unfavourable opinion I was 
 already willing to form of the whole of the blustering party 
 whose conduct I had observed under cover of the sirloin. 
 
 I found, in time, that this was a very prevailing trait of na- 
 tional manners in England; and that there is nothing that 
 people have such a horror of there as paying postage, which 
 is, indeed, sufficiently high to be disagreeable. On visits at 
 the mansions of individuals possessing _this privilege, I was 
 frequently afterward a witness of the shifts that people resort 
 to in procuring franks. Indeed, the franking privilege is often 
 the source of much annoyance to those who possess it. Thanks 
 to it, however, I was now, without any necessity of betraying 
 my ignorance by asking the waiter what would have seemed 
 to him as absurd a question as one concerning the uses of a 
 poker, let into the whole secret of the mysterious scales, about 
 which, the night before, my soul had been so disquieted with- 
 in me. 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WALKS IN LONDON. 
 
 Appearance of Shops. Stand of Hackney-coaches. Life o^a London Horse. 
 Regent-Street. Architect of club-houses. Duke of York's Statue. St. 
 James's Park. 
 
 Leaving my hotel with the intention of taking my first 
 walk in the streets of the metropolis, I found myself in the 
 colonnade which forms a covered way, round the quadrangle 
 of which the house formed part, and set myself quietly in mo- 
 tion to make the circuit of it. This building, which is en- 
 closed by a series of cast-iron columns, painted to correspond 
 with the plaster of the walls, had its origin in the construction 
 of a theatre for the representation of the Italian opera and bal- 
 lets, which was intended to rival the great edifices of the con- 
 tinent, and do no discredit to its royal appellation of the King's 
 Theatre. It is very magnificent, as I afterward had occasion 
 to see. The great part of this vast edifice not embraced by the 
 theatre is let out for various uses, ihe Colonnade Hotel being 
 the most considerable establishment of it. There are a collec- 
 tion of the most brilliant shops^ filled with costly articles, at- 
 testing at once the wealth, the luxury and refinement of the 
 land, and the pitch of excellence to which the arts have been 
 impelled by them. I loitered round to that side of the quad- 
 rangle which contained the entrance to the opera. The season 
 does not commence until near INIay, and there was no enter- 
 tainments. I stopped, however, to read the programmes of 
 the other theatres, and fix upon some amusement for the night. 
 Ere long I was interrupted by a sensation about my pocket, 
 something approaching a nibble in piscatory language, but dis- 
 covered no one near me except a highly fashionable personage, 
 engaged, like myself, in deciding what theatre to honour. There 
 were, besides a number of gay and ^elegant young women, 
 
9G THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 conspicuous for the frank and joyous freedom of their man- 
 ners. 
 
 The street on this side was the Haymarket : directly in front 
 atood the theatre of that name, while the centre of the broad 
 street was used as a stand for hackney-coachs and cabs. No- 
 thing could be more wretched than the appearance of these 
 carriages, filthy, covered with mud, the lining and curtains 
 soiled, the hair-stufBng hanging out, the glasses broken, and 
 the panels, smashed. The cabs had little advantage of the 
 coaches, and the horses were not out of keeping with the ve- 
 hicles to which they were attached. Their sides were hollow, 
 and each rib stood forth in separate and distinct relief; their 
 knees were bent forward, head hanging by the check-rein, and 
 mouths stretched open, with the tongue hanging between the 
 teeth. Some were dozing and nodding, like an elderly gen- 
 tlewoman under the influence of a dull sermon. Some of them, 
 indeed most, in the midst of their present wretchedness, had 
 a blooded look, and an air of having seen better days. I was 
 in that mood in which gloomy thoughts find a ready admit- 
 tance into the soul ; and I fell into melancholy musings upon 
 the vicissitudes in the life of this noble animal. Let us say 
 nothing about the deadly injuries that are done to him in the 
 days of his youth ; though, at the thought, my mind naturally 
 recurs to the more feeling usuages of generous Spain, and to 
 the idea of the respectable Rosmante. I happened to be at 
 Burgos, the city of the Cid and his Babieca, at the time when the 
 furniture and equipages of Mr. Villiers, the elegant and ac- 
 complished young minister of the British king, were passing on 
 their way to Madrid, under a heavy escort, to protect them 
 from the Carlists. In the train marched seven noble horses of 
 the best blood. The landlord who was likewise postmaster, 
 was a young man whose whole soul was devoted to horse- 
 flesh, being himself the possessor of many arrogant mules, and 
 some noble Andalusian horses, reared in the meadows of the 
 Guadalquivir. How did his anger rise, and his whole soul 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 97 
 
 glow with honest indignation, as he contemplated their se- 
 vered tails and tlieir cruel mutilation I He grated his teeth, 
 and, grasping his knife, exclaimed, with Spanish brevity and 
 sententiousness, and in the spirit of retributive justice, the 
 remnant of that law of talion which has been remembered and 
 not unfrequently practised in Spain since the days of the Moore, 
 — " Al homhrc que capaba a tin cahallo—Ie capaha a el P^ 
 
 We talk about our love for a favourite horse ; but there is 
 no such feeling ; it is only a reflection of our love for ourselves. 
 The horse carries his rider nobly and proudly, helps him to 
 appear well, and is for the moment part of himself. Let him 
 fall lame, or lose his beauty, and he is sold at once without 
 regret, and another succeeds the next day to all the affection 
 which was but yesterday his own. From a broken-down 
 hunter he passes at once to the carriage, the stage-coach, or the 
 plough, until at length he is driven furiously over the London 
 pavements, and worn out by labour, increasing ever as his 
 forces diminish, by blows, and by ill usage, he dies miserably 
 under the hands of a cab ruffian. Verily, it may well be said, 
 that the last stage of that horse is worse than the first. The 
 most noble, the most elegant, i\\e most useful of all the auxi- 
 liaries which nature has provided for man, his life is at the 
 same time the fullest of miserj', and his death the most long- 
 drawn and disastrous. A pig is a king to him. A pig gorgepj 
 and wallows, and revels in a thousand luxuries dear to his 
 awinish heart, increasing ever in health and happiness, until, 
 reaching the climax of all the bliss of which his nature is ca- 
 pable, the merciful knife reaches the seat of vitality in a twink- 
 ling, and suddenly, without suffering, his soul is required of 
 him, and with a single squeal he yields it up. 
 
 As were the cab horses, so also were the drivers. All were 
 filthy, squalid, and tattered ; some were drunk, others dozing. 
 I afterward found, from the police reports, that many of them 
 are also thieves. They are banded with what is called the 
 
 E 
 
98 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 *•' swell mob," an institution which, like the name, is peculiar 
 to this country, and aid in carrying off plate and other plun- 
 der taken from the houses of the rich. One of the party learns 
 the secret of the premises through the connivance of a servant ; 
 and, not unfrequently, they take the agreeable mode of making 
 love to a maid. Apian is thus matured for weeks beforehand, 
 and rarely fails in its execution. 
 
 The miserable plight of these vehicles, intended for the ac- 
 commodation of the public at large, contrasted singularly 
 with the same class of conveyances in our own country, and 
 bore strong testimony to the distinction of classes and dis- 
 parity of fortunes here, and the humble condition of the third 
 estate. With us, the hackney-coaches are almost universally 
 neat and elegant vehicles, drawn by fine horses, not easily 
 distinguishable from the modest equipages of the rich. There 
 are a vast number of the people with us, who, while they may 
 not be able to set up an equipage, have yet abundant means to 
 compass the gratification of an occasional drive. Here those 
 who keep no carriage must be content to take the air in mi- 
 serable, filthy vehicles, inferior in all respects to the worst of 
 those that may be seen in New York, or Philadelphia, figuring 
 in a funeral cortege of negroes. Going forth in search of 
 country air and the aromatic gales of gardens and meadows, 
 they carry with them a nucleus of ill odours, and taint the 
 atmosphere wherever they proceed. I never put my foot into 
 one of them without noticing this oifensiveness ; and being 
 prepared to appreciate the ingenious squeamishness of our ec- 
 centric countryman, John Randolph, of Roanoke, who was 
 rooted in the idea that the hackney-coaches were habitually 
 used by the London resurrectionists, and who would never 
 enter any but chariots, because there was no room in them for 
 the comfortable accommodation of a dead man. 
 
 As I yet stood gazing and musing upon cabs and jarvies, 
 there rolled by the elegant equipage of a rich man, to carry 
 out the contrast between the aristocratic and the lowly. The 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 99 
 
 heavj' carriage was suspended on double springs, and rolled 
 forward without a jar, or the least clatter or noise ; within 
 were seen the teints of rich silk, and luxurious cushions. Two 
 proud and prancing horses bore hard upon the reins, which 
 were held by a stout, rosy, powdered, and richly-clad coach^ 
 man, who was seated high aloft as on a throne. They arched 
 their necks and pricked their ears disdainfully at the villaia 
 horses they were passing, little dreaming that a few short 
 years were to reduce them to that same abject condition. 
 Behind were two footmen, in costly liveries, with aiguillettes 
 and long canes to clear the way, if necessary, for their mas- 
 ters. Their looks were disdainful and imperious, and they 
 stood up OQ their stout supporters, cased in plush breeches 
 and neat white stockings, as proud and as perpendicular as 
 princes. 
 
 By this time my attention to the cabmen had attracted 
 theirs to me. Three or four broke the line at once, and beat- 
 ing tlieir reluctant animals, drove agamst each other in their 
 eagerness to approach me, crying, as they held up their whips 
 or a dirty finger, in a quick, nasal, cockney tone, '* Cab, sir ! 
 cab, sir ! Drive you quick, sir !" I had too much compassion 
 for their horses, and too much consideration for myself, to ac- 
 cept the offer. Therefore, turning away, I continued my cir- 
 cuit until I had traversed the Colonnade to the point from 
 which I had set out ; thence I struck off to the left, and found 
 myself in the wide and noble avenue of Regent-street. Here 
 I paused to gaze with admiration upon the magnificent club- 
 houses and other princely edifices which stood isolated on 
 either hand. Many of them are in a noble and chaste style of 
 architecture. They are built of Portland stone, and, being in 
 a neighbourhood not dense comparatively, and where there 
 are no manufactories with steam-engines, furnaces, and belch- 
 ing chimneys, they are not blackened like the buildings in 
 other quarters of the town, especially the east, towards 
 which the wind habitually blows. They have, consequently, 
 
100 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 a light and gay colour, which the contrast renders particularly 
 pleasing. 
 
 Regent-street terminates at this extremity in a flight of steps, 
 descending into St. James's Park, whose naked trees here in- 
 tercepted the prospect ; while from among them might be seen, 
 risingin the distance, the lofty roof of Westminster Abbey, flank- 
 ed by its Gothic towers. In this fine situation^ at the extremity 
 of the street, overlooking the Park, the Abbey, and the sur- 
 rounding palaces, stands a lofty column of stone, which I 
 learned with wonder was intended to receive the statue of 
 Frederick, late Duke of York. I could not help asking my- 
 self what the Duke of York had done for England, that she 
 should thus commemorate him. Will not posterity be dis- 
 posed to ask the same question, and to wonder to what 
 acliicvement of his inglorious career, conspicuous only for 
 ignominious failure as a general, for base and infamous col- 
 lusion as a commander-in-chief — to what act of a life passed 
 in dishonourable neglect of the common honesty which en- 
 joins the scrupulous payment of one's debts, and in low de- 
 bauchery as a man, he is indebted for this honour, hitherto 
 reserved as the noblest meed of heroes and patriots! Will 
 it not at least be admitted that he has won his column at 
 a cheaper rate than Trajan in ancient times, or Napoleon in 
 our own? 
 
 The indignation which I felt in contemplating this prosti- 
 tution was not the effect of any anti-English feeling. Were 
 i an Englishman I should but have felt more strongly. — 
 Had I beheld this noble column surmounted by the statue 
 of a Wellington or a Nelson, I should have freely added the 
 full tide of my sympathies to those of a grateful and ad- 
 miring nation. May not the day arrive when this people 
 will begin to think, that to have been the base brother of a 
 king is a less title to gratitude and consideration, than to 
 have borne the name of Horatio Nelson? When the statue of 
 him who sacrificed a noble army ignominiously in the swamps of 
 
WALKS IN LOXDOX. . ICl 
 
 Walclieren, niid abandoned a whole service to the avai-icioua 
 practices of an otherwise unpaid prostitute, will be indig- 
 nantly dragged down, to make room for the efiigy of that 
 hero who unfurled the flag of England so gloriously at tliC 
 Nile and at Trafalgar ? 
 
 Being so near St. James's Park, and tempted moreover by the 
 pleasing glimpse I had caught of it from the base of the Duke 
 of York's column, I could not forego the pleasure of seeing it 
 a little nearer. Descending, therefore, the flight of stej/s* 
 conducting to it, I presently found myself in the miJst of an 
 extensive plantation of trees, disposed according to the rules of 
 taste, which are here so well understood. In the centre of the 
 park is an oblong sheet of water, artificially produced, and 
 being nearly stagnant. Under our torrid sun, such a creation 
 would prove the fruitful source of fever and pestilence ; and 
 we would as soon think of introducing the plague among us, 
 as forming such a sheet of standing water within the bounda- 
 ries of our cities. Here, however, it is attended with no 
 bad result, and inspires no dread, while it tends greatly to the 
 embellishment of the place, being prettily diversified, indented 
 with little bays, with jutting promontories, and with tafted 
 evergreens. 
 
 From the Park, St. James's Palace assumes a mucli nobler 
 appearance than on the side of the town, though still 
 outshone by the superior beauty of many mansions of the no- 
 bility that overlook the same scene, especially Buckingham 
 House, the town residence of the Duke of Sutherland. — 
 Westminster Hall and the Abbey are among the fine objects 
 which the eye takes in from this charming promenade, where 
 every thing contrasted most pleasingly with the crowded and 
 bustling thoroughfares which I had the moment before aban- 
 donded. 
 
 Bural, however, and retired as I found the Park, it was not a 
 solitude ; though the groups who thronged it were of a less 
 bustling character, and bent, for the most part, on pleasure 
 
102 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 instead of toil. There were groups of children at their aports, 
 of a healthy appearance, such as I had scarcely ever seen be- 
 fore. These were guarded by comely nursery maids, who 
 seemed to have time not only to watch over^ their charge, but 
 to exchange words of kindness with tall and well-dressed 
 footmen, whom a happy accident had led there, and sometimes 
 with others, whose costume and air announced a higher sta- 
 tion. There were abundance of red coats, too, glancing 
 among the trees and shrubbery; and a whole regiment of 
 them, in admirable equipment, and moving with consum- 
 mate steadiness, were marshalled along the main avenue, 
 enlivening the groves with the inspiring strains of th?ir mi- 
 litary music. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WALKS IN LONDON. 
 
 Picadilly. Quadrant, Placard-bearers. Church of All-Souls. Park Crescent 
 Regent's Park. The Terraces. Improvements in London. Their good 
 Taste, Adaptation to America. 
 
 Leaving St. James's Park, and turning my back on the duke 
 and his column, I took my way up Regent-street, and pre- 
 sently reached the point where it opens out into a circus at 
 the intersection of Piccadilly. This is one of the greatest 
 thoroughfares of London or the world. It is the principl con- 
 necting avenue between the City and the West End, and one 
 of the great routes to the southern and western counties of 
 England. The rush of vehicles was really fearful ; there were 
 many four-horse coaches arriving and departing, cumbered 
 with luggage and passengers; and innumerable omnibuses, 
 whose elegant cads were standing on one foot, leaning far to 
 either side, and holding up a finger which they twitched 
 coaxingly, crying the while tlu-ough their noses — " Kensing- 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 103 
 
 ton! Chelsea! Hammersmith! Hyde Park Corner! Bank! 
 Bank! Bank!" Here, too, I stopped to gaze with wonder 
 at a golden bull and an overgrown mouth opening to swallow 
 him, the distinguishing sign of a noted coach-office, whose 
 name I had noticed on the coach which brought me to London, 
 This is one of the few instances which I saw in London of the 
 old signs, belonging to the quaint and simple tastes of 
 ancient times, being retained, together with the names of 
 celebrated inns. 
 
 Making my escape, with some address and no little self- 
 gratulation, across the mighty thoroughfare, I entered the 
 Quadrant, and went on my way, rejoicing in my sense of 
 safety ; for here I was defended by a range of massive cast* 
 iron columns, and there was no danger of being invaded in 
 this sanctuary and run down, whether by cab or omnibus. 
 The buildings here bend gracefully on either hand from that 
 part of Regent-street which takes its rise in St. James's Park, 
 so as to join a second street, bearing the same name, which 
 runs northward, to connect it with Portland Place and Re- 
 gent's Park. This Quadrant is flanked on either hand by 
 fluted columns of cast-iron, having the massive appearance of 
 stone, and being coloured to correspond with the stucco of 
 the adjoining edifices. Above is a continuous skylight, con- 
 necting the colonnade with tiie buildings ; the upper stories 
 of whicli are appropriated to millinery establishments and 
 various uses, while the ground-floors are occupied as shops 
 and are filled with every species of costly wares, to attest the 
 superiority of the useful and elegant arts in England. The 
 effect of this Quadrant, bending thus gradually, is, on the 
 whole, decidedly elegant ajid pleasing, while the noble street 
 opening beyond, and flanked on either hand by rows of sym- 
 metrical and ornamented edifices, breaks u^xjn the eye with an 
 air of great magnificence. 
 
 There was much, however, in the groups that filled the^g 
 elegant precincts, which was disgusting and humbling to the 
 
J 04 THK AMERICAN IN ENGLANI?. 
 
 pride of any one who is capable of being wounded by the de- 
 gradation of his species. Able-bodied men, many of them, 
 moreover, quite well dressed, were importuning every one -to 
 buy leathern straps to put under their boots, or a puppy-dog 
 which they carried in their arms : half-naked wretches were 
 sweeping the streets at the crossing-places, aud begging the 
 price of a loaf of bread, with the assurance that they were fa- 
 mished with cold and hunger. I was struck with the appear- 
 ance of one man, more wretched than the rest. He was tall, 
 graceful, and distinguished in his appearance. His clothes 
 fitted closely to his person, and were of an elegant make, but 
 they were greasy, threadbare, and, being broken in various 
 places, showed that his back rejoiced not in a shirt. His boots 
 were sadly run down at heel, and escaping from his feet ; 
 while his unshaven beard, and his emaciated countenance, 
 completed a picture of consummate misery and wo. Yet his 
 air was as proud and elevated as that of any around him, and 
 he strode onward, looking neither to the right nor to the left. 
 What was that man to do ? His habits unfitted him for toil, 
 yet he was doubtless ashamed to beg, though evidently starv- 
 ing. I could not fancy anything but the example of Werter, 
 and the relief of that friendly river in whose direction he was 
 walking. Willingly would I have learned his story, though 
 doubtless a common and oft-told tale, of wasted opportunities 
 and ruined character. 
 
 Leaving the Quadrant, 1 was immediately shocked at other 
 spectacles yet more degrading. Here was a man, dressed in a 
 red coat and epaulettes, and having on his head a cocked hat, 
 surmounted by the panache of a field-marshal. At his back and 
 before him were suspended, so as to balance each other, a 
 couple ofboards, with printed placards to the following effect : 
 "Gentlemen should instruct their servants to use Brown*8 
 blacking !" Farther on were more, dressed from head to foot 
 in one huge garment of green moreen. It had streaming pen- 
 dent sleeves, and was terminated at the top in a tall steeple- 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 105 
 
 crown, like a paper foolscap, such as is used by bullying pe- 
 dagogues to degrade and break the spirit of a child. There 
 was a single aperture left for the face of these consenting and 
 polluted wretches, who looked out, shameless of the degrada- 
 tion of their species and of their own, as they bore high in the 
 air placards of some ignoble advertisement — a new cure for 
 the itch, or simply the street and number of Dr. Eady, the in- 
 famous curer of an infamous disease. 
 
 But the chapter of ignominy was not complete. A little 
 further on I saw a noble-looking man, with a sash bound about 
 his waist, having a slight halt in his gait, a decidedly military 
 air, and the port of a veteran. I fancied that I saw in him a 
 worthy companion of Wellington in the field of Waterloo. 
 He was the bearer of a placard which notified where might 
 be seen the statue of Lord Dudley's favourite Newfoundland 
 dog Bashaw. Here was a man, a noble specimen of humanity 
 too, doomed in his old days to carry about a placard touching 
 the statue of a nobleman's favourite dog ! This is an outrage 
 not merely against the dignity of man, it is a violation of the 
 intentions of hi? Maker ; and I felt within me, at the contem- 
 plation of such a spectacle, not merely loathing disgust at the 
 baseness of the wretches who, rather than starve, should be 
 found thus acquiescing in their own degradation, but a glow of 
 honest indignation against the whole structure and condition 
 of society in a country where, throughout a long series of 
 years, the privilege of legislation for the good of all has been> 
 reserved in the hands of a few, and where, systematically 
 exercised in the interest of that few and for the enslavement 
 of the many, it has eventuated in such a preposterous and ul- 
 equalled elevation of the one, attended by the necessary and 
 corresponding abasement of the other. 
 
 Presently I came to a cross street in which was assembled 
 a great collection of people of the lowest class. This was the- 
 first specimen I had seen of a London mob, and a more Hijua- 
 E 5 
 
106 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 lid set of wretches could not well be imagined. From the 
 number of policemen collected at the place, armed with their 
 short clu'is, there had probably been some disorder which was 
 not unl'.kely to be renewed. The cause of it was soon obvi- 
 ous. A man was statding before the door of a dirty and sus- 
 picious-looking habitation, ha:%dng on his shoulders a placard 
 on which was printed, in large letters, " Beware of a house of 
 ill-fame," having doubtless been hired to do so bysome decent 
 burgher living next door, who had been scandalized by the 
 character of his neighbours. This placard had brought to- 
 gether the mob, who, whatever might have been their own 
 morals, were not sorry to have their fury authorized, and their 
 taste for destruction directed to some legitimate object. Its 
 effects were already sufficiently obvious on the exterior of the 
 building. The terrified inmates had closed the inside shutters, 
 but the glasses were all broken, and the sashes smashed, while 
 the whole front was ple^Gtifully daubed with mud, which had 
 been thrown by the handful. The by-standers seemed only to 
 wait for leave to set about the demolition of the whole esta- 
 blishment. 
 
 Looking ronnd me as I went, and musing upon what 1 saw, 
 I presently reached the intersection of Oxford-street ; where 
 Regent-street again opens out to form a circus. Here is ano- 
 ther thoroughfare between the East and West Ends, well 
 n'gh as great as that of Piccadilly; and here too the pedes- 
 trian is obliged to halt, and watch, and escape quickly for 
 his life. The shops here assume a still more elegant and fashion- 
 able character; among them were druggists, shops' the 
 names of whose proprietors I had seen on their preparations 
 in almost every corner of the world ; their extent, neatness 
 and elegance of arrangement were admirable. Others were 
 occupied by Fr.mch milliners, addressing themselves in their 
 signs to those only who could read French ; or Parisian and 
 Swiss confectioners, and one or two were elegantly fitted up 
 as cafes and restaurants. 
 
WALKS IN LONDON," l(i^ 
 
 The vista before me terminated at an acgle where Regent* 
 street turns into Portland Place. This is a most favourable 
 point for the exhibition of a noble edifice. The objects on 
 either hand prepare the eye for no measured degree of gratifi- 
 cation. And here in fact the artist who conceived and so 
 nobly executed in the last reign the magnificent idea of all 
 these improvements, which give such an air of grandeur to this 
 quarter of the metropolis, has accordingly placed an edifice, 
 the Church of All Souls, which seems meant as a master-piece, 
 and which at any rate may claim the merit of being able both 
 to astonish and surprise. It stands forward far in advance of 
 the adjoining buildings, face to face with you as you advance 
 to enter Portland Place, and seems to say to you — Here ! look at 
 me ! And I did look at it, and with not a little astonishment, 
 and some embarrassment. For having never before seen an edifice 
 like this, I could not judge it by any effort at comparison, and 
 remained bewildered in the attempt to analyze my impression^,' 
 I was not long in determining that the character of the structure 
 was at least costly, and its mechanical execution very elegant,' 
 In some of the details, moreover, there was much subject for 
 unqualified admiration. It formed, however, the oddest whole 
 imaginable. The church itself was of nearly a square form, and 
 stood back with a half modest and retiring air, well nigh con- 
 cealed by the mansions adjoining. The roof was tall and angu- 
 lar, and sloped back from the more pretending portico and spire,' 
 like a vulgar wife, half shrinking from the fellowship of the 
 more genteel husband who is ashamed of her. It was a strik- 
 ing instance of architectural mis-alliance. Had it stood by it« 
 self, without pretension and in all humility, it would have at^] 
 tracted neither notice nor animadversion. But the pride of a 
 lofty alliance had dragged it into notice, and subjected it to' 
 contumely. The portico and spire, which touched rather than 
 united with it in front, was full of pretension, and not wholly, 
 destitute of taste. It was of circular form, surrounded by a 
 row of Ionic columns, and surmounted by an elegant balu8« 
 
|08 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 *rade. Oat of this arose a fluted stone spire, ran up to a nee» 
 die's point with great lightness and grace. Above the portico 
 a large ring, sustained by a lesser row of columns, surrounded 
 the spire. One is puzzled, in looking at it, to tell how or why 
 it came thervj. It looks for all the world like a ring, and has 
 the air of a trophy carried off in some jousting match on a 
 great scale, with giant knights, and steeples for lances. 
 
 Portland Place is still wider and more vast than Regent- 
 street. It is of more ancient construction. The houses are 
 of unpainted brick, and are all private dwellings. No omni- 
 bus is permitted to pollute with its presence these precincts, 
 though now guiltless of nobility, and abandoned to the abode 
 of aspiring merchants and bankers. Compared with Regent- 
 street, it had a certain air of staid respectability, not a little 
 augumented by the occasional display of funeral hatchments, 
 on which family arms were emblazoned, with angels, hour- 
 glasses, and various mournful emblems of the tomb, to an- 
 nounce that death had been busy within. I do not know 
 that any thing ever affected me more unpleasantly than this 
 obtrusion upon the world of that sorrow which, where it is 
 sincere, is apt to shun the sympathy of the unheeding crowd ; 
 and this heartless effort to make the dead, by giving occasion 
 to this heraldic display, thus minister to the vanity of the 
 living. 
 
 kt the extremity of Portland Place the buildings again be- 
 tjomes modern, and sweeping back on either hand in a circular 
 torm, with colonnades, terraces, and architectural embellish- 
 inents, leave a vacant place between called the Park Crescent. 
 This is enclosed with a massive iron railing. It is planted 
 •with trees, and tastefully laid out as an ornamental garden, 
 accessible to the tenants of the neighbouring mansions, who 
 there enjoy the recreation of a daily walk, which the habits 
 of the country render necessary ; and where their children, 
 when the weather will at all permit, pass a considerable por- 
 tion of each day in healthful exercise. I subsequently found 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 109 
 
 that, notwithetandiDg the deneeness of London, there is 
 scarcely any portion of it which has not in its neighbourhood 
 some planted square or pleasure-ground, reserved for the 
 health and recreation of its inhabitants. 
 
 Beyond the Park Crescent lay the New Road, another vast 
 thoroughfare, connecting the City with the extensive suburb 
 of Paddington. Here were the same rush of vehicles, and the 
 same abundance of hackney-coaches, cabs, and omnibuses, 
 mingled with the costlier ecjuipages of the rich. Beyond the 
 New Road lay the Regent's Park. Though my map had 
 shown me in the morning that its extent was considerable, I 
 determined to make the circuit. Its entrance was defended 
 by railings and gates of iron, which may be closed at pleasure, 
 to shut out intruding stage coaches, omnibuses, loaded carts, 
 or aught that is unseemly or inelegant. On my left hand lay 
 the Park, whose recent plantations of trees and shrubbery 
 were in a very thriving state, indicating that, in the season 
 of foliage, they were already in a condition to furnish shade 
 and an agreeable verdure. On the right, my eye took in a 
 succession of stately edifices, grouped together so as to pro- 
 duce the effect of a series of magnificent palaces, each form- 
 ing by itself an elegant and harmonious whole. The first of 
 these was Cambridge Terrace, which was in a pretty taste, 
 and embellished with architectural ornaments of simple Doric. 
 Here, too, I paused to admire the swelling dome of the Coli- 
 seum, a magnificient structure, tit for the exhibition of so vast 
 a panorama as that of London. 
 
 Chester Terrace, which was next to Cambridge, struck me 
 as being extremely beautiful. Like the rest, it is thrown 
 back from the main road along the side of the Park. It is of 
 the Corinthian order, has a colonnade in the centre, and at 
 either extremity an elegant entrance, in the form of a tri- 
 umphal arch, which gives admittance to the private road 
 leading only to the residences which compose it. The Terrace 
 is raised above the level of the main road, securing the dwet* 
 
110 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 lings from humidity, and furnishing, from their windows, a 
 commanding view of the road, which is not sufficiently near 
 to annoy with its dust or noise, while it presents an ever- 
 animating scene of gaiety and life, — of the tastefully-planted 
 Park beyond, with its pretty villas, serpentine walks, and 
 sheets of water, and of the noble terraces which close the 
 view beyond. Here, as at the other terraces, the intervening 
 space between the private avenue and the public thoroughfare 
 is enclosed with balustrades of Portland stone, and flanked 
 with e\'«rgreens and flowers. 
 
 A little farther on I was met by one of the fairest proces- 
 sions that ever blessed my delighted eyes. It consisted of 
 some twenty or thirty young ladies, of various interesting 
 ages between fourteen and twenty. They were dressed with 
 great neatness and simplicity ; and, as they passed along, each 
 seemed prettier than the one who had preceded her, though 
 my respect for what was due to their modesty, and some little 
 prompting from my own, prevented me from scanning them 
 with the attention which they merited. This was certainly a 
 very charming spectacle in itself, and I contemplated it very 
 frequently after with intense interest, when I came to leara 
 that these young ladies were the orphans of poor clergymen, 
 for whose education an institution has been endowed in the 
 Kegent's Park, by the generosity of some rich person, who 
 added good taste to kindness of heart and discriminating be- 
 nevolence. They are carefully educated, and qualified to fill 
 the station of governesses in rich families ; and, to judge from 
 their amiable appearance, would also make excellent wives, 
 though taken at a venture. 
 
 Cumberland Terrace, which next attracted my observation^ 
 pleased me less, though the mansions which composed it were 
 of far greater dimensions, and the style of architecture more 
 highly ornamented and of greater pretensions. It consists of 
 a grand centre and wings, connected by arches, under which 
 are carriage-ways leading to the mews in the rear. From a 
 
WALES IN LONDON. Ill 
 
 rusticated basement rises a range of Doric colamns, •which is 
 crowned by a balustrade, serving, at various points, as a pe- 
 destal for statues, standing singly or in groups. In the cen- 
 tre the colonnade is heavier and more imposing, being sur- 
 mounted by a pediment with a group of statuary, representing 
 the triumphs of Britannia. With such evidences of the gran- 
 deur of the Island Queen, exhibited in the residences of her 
 merchants, traders, and modest citizens, I felt no disposition 
 to deny to her the meed of my humble homage and admiration. 
 
 vSt. Catherine's Hospital, which next succeeds, contrasts 
 charmingly with the regular and classical architecture of the 
 terraces and the Coliseum. It is a very pretty specimen of 
 Gothic architecture, evincing — a fact which I found afterwards 
 confirmed by still more favourable specimens in my rambles 
 over England — that this noble style has been revived, in its 
 simpler and more modest forms indeed, with far greater suc- 
 cess here than elsewhere. It consists of a beautiful little 
 chapel, with a little nave, flanked by towers on the front, 
 while on either hand are charming groups of cottages, with 
 gables in the Elizabethan taste. This institution was not 
 long since removed to this healthier and more picturesqite 
 situation, from the present site of St. Catharine's Dock in 
 the city. It is an hospital, founded in past times for the re- 
 lief of the families of seafaring persons, or others of the hum- 
 bler dependants of that commerce which has here achieved her 
 greatest triumphs. It was a worthy monument — and I was 
 afterward called upon to admire many such — of the princely 
 benevolence of Englishmen. 
 
 Gloucester Gate is another grand entrance to the Park, It 
 is a species of triumphal arch, in Doric taste. I looked out of 
 it, and walking a few steps, came to a bridge over the Regent's 
 Canal, on the banks of which stands a charming collection of 
 little ornamental cottages of the Elizabethan, Gothic, or Saxon 
 architecture. Many of these have a grotesque and quaint ap- 
 pearance, yet the effect of the whole is pleasing and agreeable. 
 
112 TiiE A.vERlCAN IS ENGLAND. 
 
 Small, but beautifuily-arranged gardens and mimic coneerva- 
 toriee swept down to the borders of the stream. I had oc» 
 casion afterward to enter some of these, and found them filled 
 with all imaginable comforts. . 
 
 I could not but regret the unfavourable character of the 
 comparison between these charming cottages, and the taste- 
 less masses of brick and mortar in which people of the same 
 class and greater means are contented to live in my own 
 country. The greater mansions overlooking the Park, though 
 they pay oppressive taxes of various sorts well-nigh equal to 
 the rent, are not more expensive to the tenant than the grace- 
 less edifices of equal size from which our city magnates look 
 out rejoicingly into the dust, tumult, and deafening clatter of 
 Broadway ; while these modest and charming cottages ofier 
 to the individual of humble means, each such a little castle of 
 comfort, such an epitome of all that the heart of man longs for 
 in the habitation of his body, as could not be procured with 
 us at any price, except only at the trouble of creating it. One 
 principal reason, indeed, of the advantage possessed over us 
 by this country, is found in the vast superabundance of capital, 
 ever seeking for means of investing itself within sight of its 
 possessor, and easily satisfied with any interest, however low. 
 Here, however, a knowledge of comfort and good taste pre- 
 side, and lend their aid in every creation. These we do not 
 possess in any commensurate degree. Let us hope, however, 
 that it may not always be thus. The genius and character of 
 our people are the same, and we are rising to greatness by the 
 same means, with far more rapid strides, and from the un- 
 bounded and exhaustless nature of our resources, without any 
 assignable line of limitation. It is to be hoped that, as ouj. 
 means multiply, good taste will grow up to employ them in 
 whatever tends to the embellishment of life. 
 
 There is one circumstance, however, connected with the 
 creation of Regent's Park and the palace-like mansions which 
 Bunound it, which could not well apply to any thing in my 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 113 
 
 own coaiitry. It was originally a royal deinei^ne, and once 
 formed the eite of a palace inhabited by Elizabeth. Part of it 
 was afterward leased for a terra of years. During the last 
 reign it reverted to the crowr, when the plan was formed, un- 
 der the direction of the commissioners of Woods and Forests, 
 aided by their architect, Mr. Nash, of those magnificent im- 
 provements, which were to me a source of increasing delight 
 the longer I had an opportunity of observing them. The Park, 
 consisting of five hundred acres, was laid out in the happiest 
 taste of an art which is essentiall}'^ English : and the surround- 
 ing grounds were leased, to enterprising speculators, with the 
 condition of building upon a stipulated plan. After all, it was 
 individual >vealth, and capital originating from the same 
 sources which are so rapidly developing it in our own country, 
 which led to all these splendid creations. Nor am I quite sure 
 that the corporation of my native city have not a control over 
 large tracts of land which a few years will bring within its 
 inhabited precincts. No situation offers greater capabilities 
 for ornamental improvement that the island of Manhattan, on 
 which New York is situated. On one hand lies one of the 
 noblest rivers of a world in which every thing is on a grand 
 scale : on the other, and at a distance of two or three miles, a 
 beautiful arm of the sea. Nature has shown its surface into a 
 pleasing variety of hill and hollow, of rock, and glen, and pic- 
 turesque ravine. What has art hitherto done to heighten these 
 beauties ? Why, she has approached her task under the guid- 
 ance of a blind and mistaken utility, taking no counsel of good 
 taste. Hills have been cut away and cast down into the ad- 
 joining hollows ; rocks blown asunder and prostrated ; coves 
 filled up to be on an equality with the headlands that enclosed 
 them ; the whole surface of the country revolutionized ; that 
 which nature placed at the top cast to the bottom ; the sources 
 of maladies f)repared by the eiforts to promote health ; beauti- 
 ful groves cut down to make room, at best, for rows-^f Lom- 
 bardy poplars ; compact masses of brick edifices run up, with- 
 
114 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND, 
 
 out any reservation of promenades fcr the recreation and health 
 of those who are to inhabit them ; a thousand things begun, 
 and scarce one finished ; and the whole scene brought, under 
 the pretext of improvement, to present one desolating specta- 
 cle of chaotic confusion ; while in this quarter of London which 
 is as modern as many parts of New York, the effect of new- 
 ness is already banished. Whatever has been done, has been 
 done permanently ; hedges, gardens, and plantations have been 
 quickly created to gloss over and smooth away the rugged 
 aspect of innovation. 
 
 Our large, wealthy, and growing metropolis should have in 
 its perpetual employ an architect of ability and cultivated 
 tastes. He should visit the capitals of Europe, and imbue his 
 mind with whatever ideas of convenience, elegance, or gran- 
 deur they may present ; and he should especially study the 
 liberal and enlightened improvements, and the domestic archi- 
 tecture, in its more modest forms, of the people from whom 
 we sprang, and whose tastes are destined to become our own. 
 Nowhere in England could he find more happy sources of in- 
 spiration than in Regent's Park and its ornamented precincts.' 
 This is a digression from our subject ; but the author is un- 
 willing to permit himself to be deterred by this consideration, 
 while attempting to describe what has excited his admiration 
 in another country, from suggesting whatever may be advan- 
 tageous to his owr. ..,.,,..,»„». 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WALKS IN LONDON. 
 
 Circuit of Rcgent^t Park. Southern Terrace?. View of the Grounds. Com- 
 parison of Regent-street and Broadway. Equipages and Horses. Street 
 Popuiation. Female Wallteri. Preservation of Order. 
 
 Thk reflections which closed our last chapter were presently 
 put to flight by the very pleasing spectacle of a youthili. 
 matron emerging from one of these tasteful cottages, attended 
 by her little family. It consisted of two fine, healthy children, 
 very neatly dressed, who were armed with various toys for 
 their amusement, under the guidance of a liveried servant, 
 who carried a couple of umbrellas as a precaution against 
 rain, and seemed to have the additional charge of protector to 
 the whole party ; behind followed a child of a year or more, 
 who, bundled in shawls, was truildled along in a waggon of 
 wicker-work, which the nursery-maid drew after her. As 
 they also seemed bound on the same voyage of circumnaviga- 
 tion with myself, T was very willing to sail in their wake, 
 and beguile the way by interesting myself in their gambols. 
 At the entrance of the Zoological Garden, however, they 
 turned in to take a look at the wild beasts, and I was com- 
 pelled to continue on without any other companion than my 
 thoughts, and the interest which I derived from the observa- 
 tion of surrounding objects. 
 
 Leaving the wild beasts to roar, the monkeys to chatter, 
 and the parrots to prate on, for their own amusement and that 
 of my youthful friends who had just entered the Garden, I 
 continued my walk, which now began to bend to the west, in 
 forming the circuit toward the place from which I had set 
 out. From Macclesfield Bridge, which is a beautiful con- 
 struction of cast-iron, I took in a pleasing view of the banks 
 of the Canal, of Primrose Hill, the holdiday resort of the jaded 
 
]16 THE AMliRICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 artisans of either sex, and the curious scene of practical jokee, 
 and sturdy and somewhat unscrupulous gambols, — of the 
 ornamented villa of the Marquis of Hertford, and of others 
 half hidden beyond within tlie deepening thickets of the Park, 
 together with the grand panorama of the i)alaces %vhich en- 
 closed it. Hanover Terrace, with the charming lodges near 
 it, next awakened my admiration, and presently I stood be- 
 wildered, yet not displeased, before the fantastic structures of 
 Sussex Place. This i.s a curious group of buildings, in a 
 Chinese taste, having a singular collection of octagonal 
 towers, surmounted by cupolas and minarets. The effect of 
 it is very odd ; and though I felt no disposition to envy those 
 "ivho lived there, and whose ideas, as it struck me, were like 
 to receive an eccentric and fantastic bent from the obliquity 
 of their habitations, it served to give an air of variety to the 
 whole scene, and greatly to enhance, by the effect of contrast, 
 the more regular and undeniable beauties of the surrounding 
 terraces. 
 
 From this point the grounds of the Park are seen with all 
 their beautj'. They present a great variety of agreeable ob- 
 jects, groves, gardens, sheets of water, the indentation of 
 whose shores imitates the graceful caprice of nature, inter- 
 spersed with villas, lodges, and airy bridges, and the view be- 
 ing closed in the distance by the nave and towers of St. 
 Catharine's, the dome of the Coliseum, and the colonnades of 
 the adjoining terraces. The inhabitants of these mansions en- 
 joy, in the heart of a great city, the sight of whatever is pleas- 
 ing in the prospect of the most highly-ornamented scenes of 
 rural life — for even sheep and cattle were not wanting to com- 
 plete the picture of pleasing rusticity. Nor is it only in the 
 sight of these objects that they found gratification. While 
 many rolled over the smooth avenues in luxurious equipages, 
 others of either sex ambled on beautiful and highly mettled 
 horses, followed by neatly-dressed and equally well-mounted 
 grooms ; while others, with an air of not inferior enjoyment. 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 117 
 
 rambled on foot over the gravelled walks of the enclosures, or, 
 seated on rustic benches at the sunny side of a grove, or by 
 the margin of the water, pored over the pages of some attrac- 
 tive author ; — haply a Thomson, a Cowper, or some one of 
 those descriptive poets of the land, who have sung so sweetly 
 of rural scenes, to a people formed by their tastes to appre- 
 ciate their descriptions and to sympathize in their ecstasies. 
 The laugh and lively prattle of children, too, gave to the 
 scene its most pleasing character of animation. Some were 
 ferried over the water in pretty wherries, while others, hang- 
 ing over the railings of the airy bridges which spanned the 
 stream, seemed delighted to divide their luncheon with the 
 majestic swans which sailed proudly below, and which for a 
 moment forgot their stateliness and dignity in their eager ef- 
 forts to catch the descending morsels. 
 
 Clarence and Cornwall Terraces, which struck me as being 
 yet more beautiful than any I had seen, brought me to York 
 Terrace, which, having all its entrances at the back, and the 
 gardens in front, without any divisions, conveys more irre- 
 sistibly than the rest the idea of one magnificent palace. I had 
 now got back to the New Road, whence I had set out. There 
 were two or three churches in sight, that of S't. Mary-le-bone 
 and Trinity ; but as they were without attraction, and 
 characterized by a bad taste, which my rambles round the 
 Park had unfitted me to bear patiently with, I did not waste 
 my time in a second look at them. jSo, escaping through the 
 press at the New Road, I re-entered Portland Place by the 
 Park Crescent, and bent my steps homeward. 
 
 As I passed along this noble avenue, from its origin in the 
 Regent's to its close in St. James's Park, I had leisure to 
 admire its magnificence, and to appreciate the absurdity of 
 comparing Broadway, or any other street in America, to it. 
 In the brilliancy derived from our transparent atmosphere, 
 and unclouded, deep-blue skies, and the dazxling splendour 
 with which the sun shines througb, revealing, gladdening, 
 
118 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 and vivifying every thing with the magnificence of an unim- 
 peded and tropical illumination, we possess, indeed, an ad- 
 vantage to which London and England are equally and for 
 ever strangers. In the single particular of unbounded move- 
 ment and life, Broadway is moreover equal, from the simple 
 circumstance of its immense length, and its being almost the 
 only outlet of a great city, to Regent-street, or any other 
 that I am acquainted with. But in all else its attractions are 
 not such as to entitle it to enter into the comparison. 
 
 In the first place, it is greatly inferior in spaciousness and 
 width. In Broadway there is a perpetual and most displeas- 
 ing variety in the height and fashion of the houses. Each is a 
 complete republican, that has grown up independently and in 
 its own way. A giant of four stories, with a flat roof, looks 
 down upon its next neighbour, a big-headed dwarf of one 
 story, with a most ambitious attic. Here is a dwelling- 
 house, ^there a shop. The windows and doors are scattered 
 up and down, in defiance of symmetry, and in contempt of 
 right lines, and the variety of colours is infinite. In Hegent- 
 street, on the contrary, there are continuous ranges of edi- 
 fices, erected on a series of uniform plans, decorated with 
 architectural ornaments, and coated with plaster of one uni- 
 form complexion. Perhaps the churches and public buildings 
 that one passes in a walk in Broadway are in a better style 
 than those of Regent-street, though this, after all, is not say- 
 ing much. With us there is a disposition to keep to classic 
 tastes and approved models, while here the taste is to mingle 
 beauties, however discordant, producing what is original and 
 eccentric ; something which has no precedent, and is likely to 
 be followed by no imitation. In both places there is the 
 same nuisance of omnibuses, and the same sufficiency of dust, 
 though we excel wonderfully in noise, owing to the circum- 
 tance of our pavement being made of round pebble-stones. 
 
 Here the private equipages, which were heavy, costly, and 
 luxurious, were intermingled with squalid cabs and hackney- 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 119 
 
 coaches. "With us t!ie vehicles generally are of a lighter and 
 more tasteful make, and the. hackney-coaches are often so 
 elegant as scarcely to be distinguished from the private car- 
 riages, except by the inferior grooming and showiness of the 
 horses. I could not determine whether there were more fine 
 horses in Regent-street or Broadway. At this season the 
 town was empty of fashionable people, and perhaps our own 
 city had the advantage. The English horses were, however, 
 much better groomed and broken. Here were no long-tailed 
 nags, driven by proud, shabby, genteel people, and no sulkeys 
 with trotting horses, dashing along at the rate of a mile in 
 three minutes. The taxes on vehicles and horses seemed to 
 check the aspirations of poor and humble lovers of horse- 
 flesh, and confine the luxury exclusively to the rich. All 
 kept scrupulously to their proper side, on the left, and the 
 respect for custom and the law in this respect seemed to be 
 uppermost in the heart of every man who held a whip. Here 
 were no accidents and no restiffness. In fact, in more than a 
 year that I subsequently passed in England, I do not re- 
 member to have witnessed a single accident, except on a 
 race-course, whereas one of the commonest spectacles 1 had 
 been accustomed to see in Broadway was that of a horse 
 prancing along without a rider, followed by the full hue and 
 cry of boys, negroes, and Irishmen, or a light waggon, spin- 
 ning along on three wheels, overturning orange-sellers and 
 demolishing old women. 
 
 I think the comparison between the street population of 
 the two places, in point of appearance, was, so far as I could 
 judge as yet, in favour of London. Here was an air of greater 
 health, aud more fullness of muscle, and freshness of com- 
 plexion. To be sure I had been traversing the rich quarter 
 of Westminster, in a part but casually and slightly infested 
 by the poorer and more squalid classes of the metropolis. 
 One remark was most obvious to me ; with us, the agitation 
 which is constantly going on throughout the whole mass of 
 
120 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 society, ia perpetually throwing to the surface that which 
 was but a little before removed from it. Merit, industr}', 
 assiduous exertion of any sort, — opposed by no insuperable 
 barriers of pride or prejudice, and fettered by no system of 
 laws conceived in the interest of the few and the idle, and in 
 enmity to the industrious million,— secure of their reward, 
 are perpetually raising to competency and distinction those 
 who, in the outset of life, were humble and unhonoored; 
 while the idle and the profligate, degraded by the contrast 
 rather than sustained by the consideration which their ances- 
 tors had won for themselves by their good works, are seen? 
 on the contrary, to sink in a descending counter-current, to 
 mingle ultimately with the dregs. This agitation, then, of 
 the state of society, has the effect, in the large and rapidly 
 increasing communities of the Republic, so to mingle the 
 races as to break down in some measure the physical distinc- 
 tions which characterize other countries where the classes are 
 stationary, and the castes immutable. 
 
 In London, the races are most distinctly marked. It was 
 not necessary to observe the cut of a coat,' or the fashion of 
 the nether garment, to tell in an instant who was the bramin 
 and who the pariah. The gentleman was easily distinguish- 
 able by his superior height, his air of generous feeding, his 
 pride of step^ and a certain erect, elevated, confident, con- 
 tented, and — if 1 may add a (iualification which applies to 
 most of our native-born population in America — independent 
 and republican freedom and nobleness of carriage. The trader 
 had a very different air, though he struggled to make it the 
 same ; for it was the effect of imitation. There was a blend- 
 ing of haughtiness and humiliation, a versatility held in pre- 
 paration for contact with inferiors or the great ; a look which 
 could catch the expression of contempt and scorn, or soften 
 at once into a complacent simper and cringing obsequiousness. 
 
 Among the humbler classes, the physical conformation 
 seemed to announce the peculiar and separate calling of each 
 
Walks in lond6n. 121 
 
 distinct individual. The same trade, descending perpetually 
 from father to son through long succeeding generations, had 
 occasioned a development of particular limbs and muscles. 
 The absence of intellectual and moral culture, in occupations 
 which rendered it unnecessary for those who worked only to 
 administer food to themselves, and profit or luxury to the 
 class of masters, could only account for the absence of fore- 
 head, of the ornamental parts of that face which was moulded 
 after a divine model ; and which, among the untutored and 
 unoppressed savages, who roam without distinction of classes 
 over nature's wilds, is ever found to bear the impress of its 
 original. The mouth and jaws announced bull-dog capacity 
 to tear and masticate their hard-earned food. There was 
 often a preposterous development of the neck, the shoulders, 
 the arms, and hands. In many, the effect of unhealthy occu- 
 pations was visible in a peculiar conformation of their care- 
 worn countenances, and in a general physical deterioration. 
 Many generations of a sedentary life, a perpetuity of confine- 
 ment at a workbench, evinced itself in some by a ludicrous 
 shortness and diminutivenesa of the legs. It was cruel to 
 laugh at a deformity thus artificially produced, less the fault 
 than the misfortune of their ancestors, and yet it was not 
 easy to contemplate it with compobure. 
 
 I could not help speculating upon the effects of pushing 
 such a system to its extremest limits. Might not nature tire 
 at length of making legs, to exhaust unnecessarily, by their 
 demand for vital supply, the bodies of those who were never 
 destined to use them ? Just as she has long since given over 
 the bootless effort to supply tails to Spanish poodles, to be cut 
 off by their comical masters; or affixing such a useless encum- 
 brance to serve as a drag and a drawback through the weary 
 journey of life to monkeys, which, no longer serving to aid 
 the purpose of locomotion, or give life to their gambols, are 
 found gradually to dwindle and disappear in countries that 
 have no trees ? 
 
122 THE AMERICAN IN ENe^LANP. 
 
 The women whom I saw were nearly all plump and 
 comely, and their complexions were universally good, even 
 in this dingy atmosphere. To be sure, their faces were nearly 
 all dirty, at which I was the less disposed to wonder wlipn 
 I found, on getting to my lodgings, that my own was in tlie 
 same condition. I had several times used my handkerchief in 
 removing objects which had fastened on my face ; these proved 
 to be sooty particles, detached from the chimneys and furnace's 
 of the mighty Babylon; and I found, on consulting my mirror, 
 that I was, and had probably been so for some time, the proud 
 possessor of an exceedingly well-defined, coal-black whisker 
 on the left cheek, together with a very promising mustache on 
 the opposite side. 
 
 Bat to return from my own face to the more pleasing stuJy 
 of those of the women : I have to remark that they were al- 
 most all expressive, and many of them very beautiful. More- 
 over, they generally surmounted well-formed and often swan- 
 like necks, reposing on nobly-expanding bosoms. In descend- 
 ing, the analysis became less satisfactory, for their forms were, 
 almost universally, bad ; the upper part of the bodies was too 
 large for the lower; the fountain seemed crushed by the 
 weight of the superstructure. There was of course a limit to 
 the observations one might make ia the street; but to a man 
 of any observation, or at all knowing in matters of tliis na- 
 ture, used to induction, or capable, from the habit of ratioci- 
 nation, of remounting from things seen and real to things bid- 
 den and unseen, there was little risk of injustice, in notiiiug 
 the awkward bending of the ankle, to infer malformation above. 
 The feet were, for the most part, ponderous and flat, indicating 
 both an inherent ugliness and defective shoeing. They were 
 often crooked and full of excrescences ; nor did they always 
 correspond exactly, and seem to be mates. Sometimes both 
 had a leaning one way ; the right foot out and the left in, for 
 instance. I was more than once reminded of a stout double- 
 
WALKS IN LONDON. 123 
 
 decker, with high poop and heavy counter, lying down in 
 strong breozos under double-reefed topsails. 
 
 The gait, of course, of women thus formed was shutfling, 
 heavy, and luinbariug, destitute alike of harmony and ease. 
 Perhaps I cannot better convey an idea of the effect of this 
 peculiar conlurmation upon the movements, than by citing the 
 opposite comformation and equally opposite movements of 
 Taglioni. I think that alfy one who has looked at this god- 
 dess of the graceful art with any view to analyze the elements 
 of her success, must have been struck with the great length 
 and development of her legs, compared with the light super- 
 structure which reposes on them. This seemed ever to me 
 to furnish one means of accounting for her rare and matchless 
 agility and grace. There is, indeed, a gossamer lightness in 
 all her movements, that sometimes makes one think that her 
 excellence depended less on peculiar conformation and great 
 muscular power, than on a total absence of all specific gravity. 
 One is tempted to believe that she is indeed ilie sylph, whose 
 wings and wand alie wears ; an ethereal being ; a child of (he 
 skies, over whom the laws of attraction, which drag all com- 
 mon mortals down to their mother earth, have no dominion. 
 The French, the Italian, but especially the Spanish women, 
 have, more or less, this peculiar conformation. Hence do they 
 glid(^ forward witli so rare a grace, and hence that poetry of 
 motion which is found in a Sevillian or a Gaditana. The al)- 
 sence of this among English women may account for their 
 w^ant of grace. Were you to divide the figure for the sake of 
 analysis, you would bo struck with (he fact that the lower 
 portion is completely sacrificed to the upper, which is almost 
 always noble. 
 
 In general, the women were not well dressed ; there was 
 abundant evidence of defective taste, and an ignorance of the 
 (effect of colours. Indeed, it seemed that there were few ladies 
 in the street; and that it was not the fashion for them to ap- 
 pear there, still less to look out of the window. The charac- 
 
124 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 ter of most of these females seemed to account for this restric- 
 tion ; it was only occasionally that I saw a modest woman, 
 followed closely by a servant in livery. I was particularly 
 struck with an immense variety in the size of the females ; the 
 extreme height of some, and the equally wonderful smallness 
 of others ; when, occasionally, they came beside each other^ 
 the contrast was most preposterous. . I could only account for 
 this discrepance by supposing that the big ones were fresh 
 from the country ; and I found, on inquiry, that they were 
 probably from Yorkshire, while the " little uns" were uuques- 
 - tionably the dwindlings and depreciations of the race, through 
 long successive generations of a London existence ; condensed, 
 constrained, pinched up, and breathing and feeding unwhole- 
 swnely. 
 
 On the whole, the street population, excepting the want of 
 elegance in the women, compared favourably with ours. It 
 was more picturesque and more varied in the costume ; there 
 were more good looks, and a more abounding air of health 
 and vitality. Here one escaped entirely from the saffron hue 
 of people from the south,^and from the marshy new lands of 
 our western rivers ; as well as from all the intermediate shades 
 between black and white, the effect of the various crossings 
 with the race of Ham. Here were no negroes, black, green, 
 or blue ; no mulattoes, with aspect of mingled milk and mo- 
 lasses, brushing you away with their tattered plaid cloaks. 
 Here the poor made way for the well-dressed, with a cringing 
 air. They seemed to have been taught their place in succeed- 
 ing ages from father to s^on. Rural justice, with its stocks and 
 whipping-post, had inculcated a lesson of experience which 
 they were not likely to forget. The boys, like the men, had 
 less spirit and mischief in them than with us. There were 
 none to drive hoops against one's shins, or serenade you with 
 tin kettles or condemned watering-pots dragged over the pave- 
 ments. The police were seen everywhere, to keep order and 
 prevent nuisances. Such as carried burdens abandoned the 
 
DRURT LANE THEATRE. 126 
 
 side-walk, and kept to the middle of the street. Hence there 
 was no danger whatever of being buried under a bale, or being 
 struck in the head by the comer of a box or ladder, at the risk 
 of having one's bumps displaced, and character revolutionized 
 for life. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 DRURY LANE THEATRE. 
 
 Conversation at Dinner. Entrance to Theatre. Appearance of the House. The 
 Audience. The Play. Saloon. Picture of Morals. Midnight Scene in the 
 Streets. 
 
 I WAS not destined to eat my second dinner in London alone, 
 nor to pass the night in the coffee-room of the Colonnade in 
 solitude and despair. My worthy shipmate and countryman 
 came most happily to my rescue, and we ate our dinner quiet- 
 ly together in a comer. It was not luxurious ; it was not 
 after the fashion of Paris, Bourdeaux, or Milan ; of many 
 places whose names recall a thousand departed joys to my 
 palate ; still it was served with so much order, and with such 
 scrupulous neatness and propriety, that I felt no disposition 
 to regret the more varied, the more abundant, and better- 
 cooked repasts of our own crowded ordinaries. It was, more- 
 over, seasoned with some tolerable sherry, temperately taken, 
 and a flow of agreeable conversation. 
 
 My friend had been much in England, and it was not a 
 little in favour of the country that, being a man of quick per- 
 ception, sound understanding, and honest heart, who had, 
 moreover, enjoyed in his rambles in many lands, indeed, in 
 almost all, opportunities of extensive and liberal observation, 
 he was disposed to award to this country, which he knew 
 intimately, the tribute of his respect and admiration. In his 
 journey from Portsmouth to London on the previous Saturday, 
 
126 THE AMERICAN IN BNC^LAND. 
 
 he had found many towns, and particularly Guilford, in all 
 the bustle and animation of the weekly market. The sur- 
 rounding country of Surrey had poured in its throngs of sturdy 
 cultivators. He fell into ecstasies as he described their good 
 looks, their air of health and contentment, and the scrupulous 
 cleanliness of their attire. He concluded by pronouncing 
 them physically the finest race in the world. 
 
 My worthy friend had well-nigh passed that age when 
 amorous vagaries find open access to the breast, and the soul 
 is captivated and carried away by the sight of a happy com- 
 bination of features, a glorious bust, or the twinkling of a 
 well-turned and taking ankle. He was, moreover, an in- 
 veterate votary of tobacco; that luring, love-killing weed, 
 which makes a man oblivious and regardless of all else, whose 
 dreamy fumes and curling vapour dismiss the idea of creature- 
 comforts of another kind, and substitute themselves for the 
 joys of wife and bairns. But the reader must not do my 
 friend the injustice to fancy that he chewed the hated weed. 
 tie only smoked, and then none but the most fragrant 
 •Havanas. I was going to say, that though past the period 
 when woman has the greatest power to stir the heart, and, 
 moreover, an inveterate smoker, yet he contrived to work 
 himself into no inconsiderable ecstasy as he went on, not only 
 to praise tlie tine-looking men that he had seen, but to eulogize 
 and proclaim the rustic and sturdy charms of the women of 
 Sussex and Surrey. 
 
 Our dinner over, and our discussion dismissed, we ^rove 
 to Drury liane Theatre. liOng ere we approached it, we 
 were assailed by needy wretches of either sex, running by the 
 side of the coach, holding up the programme, and striking 
 against the windows, their object being to sell us the bill and 
 get two pence, which, of course, was not all profit. Fearing 
 that they might be crushed in the press, we furnished our- 
 selves with a bill each, to hold to the windows when others 
 came to offer them. Another seeker of pennies opened the 
 
DBURT LANB THEATBK. 187 
 
 door for ns as we reached the portico, which seemed in a 
 noble style of architecture, but much blackened by the smoke 
 of the neighbourhood. The street was very filthy, and ill 
 odours met the nostrils in every direction ; groups of squalid 
 wretches, easily recognised as thieves and courtezans, were 
 prowling about in search of prey. 
 
 The entrance to the theatre is spacious and noble, with a 
 very fine stairway, appropriately surmounted by a statue of 
 the bard of Avon. I do not now remember whether it were 
 with this or Covent Garden Theatre that I was particu- 
 larly struck, and most favourably impressed with its grandeur 
 and beauty. My recollections of the audience are more dis- 
 tinct. It did not seem composed of fashionable people, and a 
 distinguished air was scarce anywhere to be seen. Yet the 
 women were in general well dressed in the French taste> ex- 
 cept the hair, which hung about according to individual ca- 
 price, but generally in a very neglected condition ; the neglect 
 being of course a studied one. There was, however, no want 
 of personal beauty ; indeed, I thought I had never seen such 
 a collection of good looks, and came then to a conclusion, 
 which was confirmed by all my subsequent experience, that 
 no women that I had ever seen make so good an appearance 
 in a theatre as the English. I was struck with the gracefhl- 
 ness of the busts, the fine shape of the necks, the richness and 
 freshness of the complexions, the redundant luxuriance and 
 fine tints of the hair, united to a cast of head and an arrange- 
 ment of features, which, when they were not elegantly and 
 finely turned, had at least great beauty of expression. 
 
 The piece for the night was " Our Neighbour's Wife ;" a 
 succession of scenes of low intrigue, laid in the class of trades- 
 people of the metropolis, such as probably composed the 
 chief part of the audience, and who, under the cover of the 
 incognito afibrded by the vast extent of London, were ena- 
 bled to laugh at their own caricature without the risk of 
 detection. The actors were very much the same as with us ; 
 
138 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 that is, very coarse and vulgar, and very deficient in the grace 
 good-breeding, and truth to nature, which characterize the 
 stage of France and Italy. The Italian stage, and particu- 
 larly the opera — for the Italians also have their pure drama? 
 though everybody may not be aware of it, — witness the charm- 
 ing theatre of the Florentini at Naples — has often been re- 
 proached for its absurdity. But I never had seen any thing 
 so calculated to destroy all illusion, as the manner in which 
 actors supposed to be concealed in this piece thrust them- 
 selves before the eyes of those they were desirous to avoid? 
 or the loud tone in which they uttered that which one was 
 required to fancy said apart. The loudest talker, indeed, was 
 a favourite buffoon, who was supposed to be visible only to 
 the audience. 
 
 From first to last the play was most plentifully interspersed 
 with low, coarse, traditional stage-jokes, execrable, atrocious 
 puns and playing upon words, and vulgar and indecent 
 equivoques ; while ever and anon a stout and strong-backed 
 actor would grasp one of the lusty wenches, who, after a 
 feigned struggle to escape, would give over her coyness 
 and yield to his embrace, meeting him mouth to mouth, and 
 firing off between a volley of kisses that would ring round 
 the theatre like the report of a pistol. These amorous feats 
 were ever received with the most rapturous applause, and 
 the whole house would echo with delight from pit to gal- 
 lery. The lewd jokes seemed only less acceptable. They drew 
 an invariable burst of applause from the men, and a half- 
 Buppressed titter from the matrons, and overwhelmed the 
 young women with an interesting, disturbed, downcast look 
 of niaserie and confusion, which seemed to be much enjoyed 
 by the cavaliers who accompanied them. It was evident that 
 they understood and were sufficiently knowing to be in a con- 
 dition to relish the joke, were it not improper to do so. I 
 tiiought of other women that I had seen, and what would 
 jia\e been their manner in a situation thus embarrassing, — 
 
DRURY LANE THEATRE. 129 
 
 I pictured to myself their absent air of unconsciousness, 
 their haughty indifference, their proud composure, having its 
 origin alike in a true sense of modesty, and in the dictates of 
 good taste. 
 
 Between the acts we loitered into the magnificent saloons. 
 They were vast, lofty, having busts, statues, and columns, and 
 being most elegantly furnished. Though immediat€ly ad- 
 joining the boxes, these were not frequented by ladies, who 
 were occasionally abandoned to themselves, while the gen- 
 tlemen walked there. This magnificent retreat is set apart 
 as the recognised resort of abandoned women, who, in consi- 
 deration of their being so, are admitted at an inferior charge 
 with season tickets. They were large, fine-looking, richly* 
 though often indecently dressed, from their bodies being half 
 exposed. They were lounging on benches, leaning against the 
 columns, or reclining on luxurious ottomans. Nor was it only 
 here that they exhibited themselves. Many of them were in 
 the second row of boxes, intermingled with ladies and young 
 persons of a very tender age, and often engaged in no very 
 measured or ambiguous dalliance with the persons near them. 
 This spectacle argued extreme coldness of temperament, as 
 well in those who dallied, as in those \vho looked on. It 
 struck me as being, indeed, the most extraordinary scene I had 
 ever beheld. 
 
 How edifying to the young boarding-school misses who 
 might be present ! It] was not necessary that they should go 
 into the saloon, or look in as they passed, or observe what was 
 going forward in the stairway and surrounding galleries; 
 every thing was visible, and necessarily visible tOo, from their 
 seats. What with the kisses on the stage and the kisses off 
 it, the evidences on all sides of unbridled licentiousness, the 
 scene was such a one as in all my wanderings I had never be- 
 held, and which could only be equalled by the traditionary 
 revels of Cythera in ancient times, or the real and well-at- 
 tested ones of the Marquesas in our own. 
 
130 THE AMERICAN IN ENG^LAND. 
 
 The after-piece was Black-eyed Susan, in which the part of 
 William Was admirably played. I never have seen such a 
 sailor on the stage ; and the evident favour with which he 
 was received by the audience, partly on account of the accu- 
 rate performance, partly for the sake of the character, 
 gave me but a fair foretaste of the feeling of partiality towards 
 sailors and the sea, which I found pervading all classes in 
 England. This actor, whose name I believe was Cooper, 
 possessed a most intimate knowledge of that peculiar per- 
 sonage, the British tar. He must either have been a sailor 
 himself, or else have made many a tour of observation to 
 "Vf apping and the Docks. 1 heard, indeed, that he had once 
 been a midshipman. It was certainly better to be a player of 
 some note, than a midshipman without friends. A young mid- 
 shipman is reasonable enough ; but a midshipman of fifty, with 
 .children or grandchildren, such as there are a few in the Royal 
 Navy, is somewhat too absurd. 
 
 ()n leaving the theatre, the gloomy and miry streets pre- 
 sented a scene of unbounded licentiousuess. Rogues, courte- 
 zans, and beggars thronged on every side, obstructed the way, 
 and shocked the ear with words of disgusting indecency. 
 Not satisfied with words, they assailed those who passed 
 with gallantry of a more practical kind. Verily, there was 
 some truth in the Frenchman, Avho,in explaining the difference 
 between Paris and London, decided that it consisted chiefly 
 in the fact that there were enjoyments which could be pro- 
 cured in Paris if you desired them ; but that in London you 
 must submit to them, whether you would or not. Many of 
 these women limited their assaults to supplication for the 
 price of a drink ; and, on beiog gratified, hastened at once to 
 a neighbouring finish or a gin-shop, already filled with crowds 
 of both sexes, and resounding with drunken clamour and 
 debauchery. 
 
WALK TO THS CITT. %St 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 WALK TO THE CITY. 
 
 St. Martin'8 la the Fields. Strand. Waterloo Bridge. Temple Bar Shop*. 
 LudgateHilL St. Paul'*. Interior. Unsuited for Reformed Worihip. Monu* 
 ments. Whispering Gallery. Dome. View of London. 
 
 After breakfast the next day, I was joined by my friend for 
 a ramble to a very different quarter of London from that 
 which I had as yet seen, being to the City, so called ; the 
 scene of trade and money-making on a great scale. Leaving 
 the hotel, we made our way among various club-houses and 
 noble edifices to Charing Cross. Here we paused a moment 
 to admire the beautiful church of St. Martin's in the Fields. 
 It is an imposing structure, with a colonnade, pediment, and 
 spire, reminding me much of the better description of churches 
 in my own country, except that it was on a somewhat larger 
 scale, and the execution far more costly and massive. The 
 effect of its beauty was, however greatly marred by the coal 
 smoke, which had blackened it completely, except in a few 
 places where the courses of the rain had kept the stone clean 
 leaving an occasional streak, which rendered the effect of the 
 rest more strikingly disagreeable. We cannot sufficiently ap- 
 preciate the advantage we enjoy iu this respect from the ab- 
 sence of smoke in our citius, owing to the different character 
 of the fuel, and the elasticity of the atmosphere. Nothing, 
 indeed, can be more striking and conducive to the complete 
 effect of fine architecture, than the brilliant appearance of 
 our marble structures when shorne on by a bright sun, and 
 relieved against the deep blue of the unclouded sky ; or when 
 seen at night by the sadder and more poetic illumination of 
 the moon. 
 
 At Charing Cross a great many pnncipal streets unite to 
 
132 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 pour the full flood of their ever-moving currents from the 
 broad avenue of the Strand. As we were about to enter this 
 last, we glanced for a moment at the front of Northumber- 
 land House, surrounded by the proud lion which guards the 
 arms of that lordly family. The Strand is a very fine, wide 
 street, with spacious, convenient side-walks, and flanked by 
 well-built modem edifices on either hand. The lower floors 
 are occupied as shops, and the display of goods is costly and 
 brilliant. Among the signs I recognised that of Deville, who 
 unites the two dissimilar occupations of lamp-seller and 
 phrenologist. I had the greatest possible curiosity to consult 
 this celebrated oracle, and put my head under his skilful 
 fingers. If he had given me a good account of my bumps, I 
 should have been proud and glorious, and might possibly have 
 been encouraged to turn them to some account. But I greatly 
 feared his furnishing me with cause to magnify the ill opinion 
 which I already entertained of myself. 
 
 The Strand runs parallel to the river, wliich is at no great 
 distance. We walked down one of the short streets leading 
 to it, and found that instead of a quay or throughfare along it, 
 it was flanked by squalid and unsightly buildings. Formerly 
 this part of the town was the favourite abode of the nobility. 
 Their mansions looked towards the Strand, while the space 
 between them and the river was formed into gardens. Ter- 
 races and steps conducted to the level of the stream, which 
 then formed the great highway, and was covered by barges, 
 rowed by watermen wearing the liveries of their masters, 
 who used this as their conveyance in going to the court at 
 Whitehall. 
 
 Ere long we reached a spacious and beautiful sti-eet, in- 
 tersecting the Strand, and leading to a bridge over the river. 
 This was Wellington-street and the famous Waterloo bridge, 
 both improvements of our own times, as their names indicate. 
 The bridge is a noble and beautiful object ; the arches being 
 all of the same height, and the road above being quite level, 
 
WALK TO THE CITY. 13^ 
 
 which produces a fine effect. It is built of granite; and 
 strength, beauty, and elegance are all blended in its appear- 
 ance. Flights of steps of neat construction lead to the level 
 of the river beside the abutments ; fine side-walks are raised 
 above the carriage-road on either hand, furnishing a delightful 
 promenade, overlooking the river and its banks ; over each 
 abutment of the arches are gas lamps of a classical form, and at 
 the extremities are two neat Doric lodges for the convenience 
 of the keepers, which complete the symmetric effect of the 
 whole. The foot-passengers, on entering the bridge, pass 
 through a neat iron turnstile, which is connected with the 
 machinery of a recording-clock, locked up in the lodge, and 
 not accessible to the keepers. This, by keeping an accurate 
 account of all who enter, protects the Company against the 
 fraud of the keepers in delivering in the amount of their re- 
 ceipts. This is certainly a most ingenious contrivance. It is 
 a monument at once of human ingenuity and human baseness, 
 and furnishes food for reflection on the degradation of the 
 humbler classes in England. Why is it that the man who 
 keeps the key of the clock can be trusted, and the humbler de- 
 pendants cannot ? Because, being sufficiently paid, probably, 
 he can afford to be just, and can be honest without starving ; 
 whereas the other finds in his poverty a perpetual temptation. 
 Poverty, the inadequacy of a man's means to the comfortable 
 support of his body, and the disproportion between labour and 
 its just reward of wages, are the causes of the dishonesty with 
 which this land teems ; and tend to extend it by custom, ex- 
 ample, and the freedom from shame which a wide diffusion 
 begets, until it has become a system. There is no country 
 where mechanical ingenuity is more abounding and has 
 achieved greater triumphs than with us ; yet such a contriv- 
 aDC|e as this is the very last that would have ever been invented 
 there. And I do not believe that a native-born American, 
 however humble^, could be found to submit to the insult of 
 
134 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 being penny-collector to such an accountant as this, and thus 
 to acquiesce in the imputation of his own dishonesty. 
 
 Just below Waterloo Bridge stands the magnificent 
 palace of Somerset House, a noble and imposing quadrangle, 
 having one side on the river and the other on the Strand, and 
 a spacious court in the centre. Once the abode of royalty, it 
 is now appropriated to the meetings of the Royal Society, and 
 the exhibitions of the Academy of painters. As we traversed 
 the broad avenue of the Strand, it narrowed down to an in- 
 considerable street in approaching Temple Bar, which forms 
 the boundary of the city of London, and the limit, in this di- 
 rection, of the formidable jurisdiction of its Corporation. Here 
 the heads of persons executed for high treason were formerly 
 exposed to view ; and here still, the Corporation of London is 
 wont to receive the king on his visits to the City ; the Lord 
 Mayor delivering to him his sword of state, as a symbol of 
 authority in the city. This gateway is very elegant in its 
 form, but is blackened by the coal-smoke in the same way 
 with Somerset House and other buildings I had already seen, 
 except that a more tawny hue indicated a nearer approach to 
 the heart of this great metropolis. In niches on either hand, 
 surmounting the posterns, are stataes of the two Charles's. 
 Besides the arclies on the side-walk for foot-passengers, 
 there are larger gateways for the vehicles, which here, concen- 
 trated and crowded together, pour through in two continuous 
 files. There is a vast deal of time lost here ; and if there be 
 not a great thoroughfare opened ere long to the city in this 
 direction to take off part of the crowd, Temple Bar will be 
 very apt to yield to the impatience of the age, and notwith- 
 standing its venerable associations, to coiiie lumbering to the 
 ground. 
 
 Beyond Temple Bar the road assumed the name of Fleet- 
 street. It was of more ancient date and less well-built than 
 the Strand; but not less abounding in population, activity, and 
 the multiplied emblems of wealth. I was much struck with 
 
WALK TO THE CITY. 135 
 
 the brilliancy of the shops the whole way to the heart of the 
 City. Many of them, instead of the ordinary jjanes of glass, 
 had, for the better exhibition of their goods, large plates of 
 the most costly description, such as are used for mirrors, each 
 of them being worth some pounds sterling. The goods were 
 opened out, and tastefully and temptingly exposed to view. 
 There was a much greater subdivision of business and classi- 
 fication of pursuits than with us. A splendidly fitted building 
 would be devoted exclusively to the exposition and salp ol 
 the single article of shawk, and the same with every thing 
 else. My friend told me that so great is the extent of business 
 here, and so enormous the transactions, that though dealers are 
 satisfied with much less profit than with us, they yet realize 
 the most colossal fortunes. They do not change their mode 
 of living and begin to incur extravagant expense so soon a? 
 with us ; but live on in a quiet but comfortable way, training 
 up their children, though often inheritors of a princely fortune 
 to the same occupation with themselves, and keeping up well- 
 known establishments in the same family from father to son. 
 In the course of our walk he pointed out the establishmen 
 of a man who had become a millionaire by the sale of linen 
 told me of another who was a hosier, and at the same tim 
 the possessor of the finest stud of horses in the world, and wh- 
 thought nothing of giving five or six thousand guineas fo 
 a great winner at Epsom or Doncaster, in order to improv 
 his breeding stock. He had sold stockings by the pair all th 
 days of his life, and was bringing up his son to sell stocking 
 when he should be no more. A gloomy-looking shop, withou 
 show or external ornament of any sort, was pointed out to m 
 as the establishment of the jewellers and silversmiths to th' 
 King. Here are perpetually deposited enormous quantities o 
 plate, either their own, or on which they have advanced money 
 or else for safe keeping during the absence of the owners fron 
 their mansions. It was through some advance of money o 
 mortgage that this house came in possession of extensive an- 
 
136 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 valuable coal-mines in New-Brunswick, of which the mere 
 agencies are making people rich in some of our Atlantic cities. 
 The crowd thickened as we advanced ; embarrassments were 
 perpetually occurring, and the scene of bustle and confusion 
 was sickening and overpowering, connected with the black- 
 ness of all surrounding objects, and the deep gloom which, 
 though the day was not in itself unpleasant, the canopy of 
 overhanging smoke cast over the whole scene. The people 
 had a grave and serious air ; everybody except myself seemed 
 to know exactly what he was in search of, and to have no 
 doubt where and on what errand he was going. Among the 
 groups I here saw a beggarly battalion of poor exiles of Erin 
 grotesquely dressed, and sallying out of a newly- established 
 shop with enormous placards on their shoulders, written over 
 with extravagant puffs of the establishment that employed 
 them to take their stands in various parts of the town. 
 
 In Ludgate Hill the shops were still more elegant and costly ; 
 but ere long my attention was withdrawn from them by a 
 huge dark object which broke through the smoke, closing the 
 view at the termination of the hill ; presently it assumed the 
 shape of a dome, and its colossal proportions told that it could 
 be only St. Paul's. Though the beauty of this object was im- 
 paired by the partial manner in which it was seen at the ter- 
 mination of a street not sufficiently wide to take in more than 
 half of it, yet its size and grandeur were singularly relieved 
 by the comparison with the lofty houses on either hand, which 
 sunk into insignificance in the comparison. 
 
 This first view of the mighty temple affected me not only 
 with an impression of great grandeur, but also of extreme 
 beauty. The facade consisted of a pediment sustained by a 
 double colonnade, and flanked by two towers, which, though 
 not particularly beautiful in themselves, harmonize well Avith 
 the rest of the edifice, and give effect to the grandeur of the 
 vast dome, which, rising from the centre of the cross, for in 
 this form the temple is constructed, is seen emerging between 
 
WALK TO THE CITY. 137 
 
 these two inferior towers, and swelling nobly and grandly 
 high into mid-heaven. All the ornaments disposed about the 
 edifice struck me as appropriate and in good taste. The con- 
 version of St. Paul is sculptured in relief upon the pediment ; 
 statues of the Evangelists look down from the angles, while 
 high over roof, and dome, and lantern, is seen the simple em- 
 blem of our faith, displayed in solitary and unapproached 
 elevation against the sky. 
 
 In front of the Cathedral formerly stood that famous Paul's 
 Cross whence sermons were preached to the people in the 
 open air, and where politics and religion were mixed up in a 
 manner to which the present time is a stranger. These ser- 
 mons were not only attended by the Corporation of London, 
 but often by the King in person. The site is now occupied 
 by a fine statue of Queen Anne. This, though of marble, was 
 in a sadly dirty condition. The queen's cheeks, indeed, were 
 clean, and some parts of her robe most exposed to the rain, 
 but her nose would have been the better for the handkerchief. 
 The opposite effects of the smoke and rain upon the whole 
 edifice, which is of Portland stone, were very disfiguring , but 
 on the statues it was singularly grotesque. It produced the 
 eflfect of colouring and shading, which imparted a certain re- 
 ality to them, which, with their half-dirty, shabby-genteel 
 look, was very ludicrous. 
 
 As the day was finer, according to my companion, than we 
 were likely to have again for some months to come, I deter- 
 mined to make use of so good an occasion to see the Cathedral, 
 and enjoy the prospect from the lantern. My friend having 
 already achieved this feat, and having no desire to repeat it, 
 arranged to meet me at a certain hour at the Exchange. 
 Within 1;he door I was encountered, face to face, by a fat por- 
 ter, whose whole appearance indicated that religion was as 
 good a trade liere as in other countries where it is supposed 
 to be better. He had the softest, though not the most ex- 
 pressive face in the world ; a mere ball of flesh indeed, per- 
 
138 THE AMERICAN IN EN&LAND. 
 
 forated at the eyes and mouth, and projecting slightly at the 
 point where the nose is usually placed. He offered me tickets 
 for various parts of the buildings, and other attendants, men 
 or women, proffered tickets in like manner for the rest ; that 
 for the dome being half-a-crown, and the whole together about 
 five shillings; each particular object having its particular 
 price set on it ; the whispering-gallery, the library, the great 
 bell, down to the remains of the hero Nelson, which are exhi- 
 bited to Englishmen at a shilling the head. 
 
 On stepping into the centre of the Cathedral to observe it, 
 as well as the impertinence of a fellow who began explaining 
 every thing in a set speech delivered through his nose, and in 
 which the letter h was only used before such vowels as could 
 justly lay no claim to it, would permit me, I discovered that 
 the building was in the form of a cross, having, in its greater 
 length, a principal nave, divided from two side aisles by rows 
 of massive pillars. Over the intersection of the nave and 
 transept, swells the noble dome which I had admired from 
 without. It is painted in fresco, with subjects taken from 
 the life of the patron saint, while from the gallery, which 
 runs round the base, are hung out various trophies, the tat- 
 tered banners which Nelson and his compeers had captured 
 from the enemies of England. 
 
 The eastern i)ortion of the nave, forming the head of the 
 cross, is divided entirely from the rest of the temple by a 
 heavy screen, surmounted by an organ. This forms a. church 
 by itself; for it is within this that the customary service is 
 alone performed. The part of the edifice without has no con- 
 nexion whatever with the religious uses and devotional exer- 
 cises for which it was erected. The effect and unity of the 
 whole building are entirely destroyed by this subdivision, 
 which could have formed no part of the design of the archi- 
 tect. I saw reason to think, in contemplating this building, 
 that a grand and imposing style of architecture is not adapted 
 to our colloquial religion, which requires for its exercise a 
 
WALK TO THE CITY. 139 
 
 small snug place, not remote from the clergyman, who is apt 
 to accede to no inconsiderable share of the homage and adora- 
 tion, soft backs to lean against, and well-stuffed kneeling- 
 cushions, so that devotion may go on without personal incon- 
 venience or discomfort. The interior arrangement of this 
 choir suggested comparisons between some of the external 
 appendages of the Catholic and Eeformed religions, not by any 
 means advantageous to the latter. 
 
 The altar, if indeed there might be said to be any, was to- 
 tally hidden by the pulpit ; while on either hand were magni- 
 iicent thrones for the reception of the Bishop of London and 
 the Lord Mayor, with rich stalls for the City Aldermen. There 
 was every thing to impress the spectator with the worldly 
 grandeur of our fellow- worms, and nothing to call. to mind 
 the recollection of Him for whose worship this proud temjile 
 had arisen. Every thing tended to keep alive the idea of 
 worldly distinction, instead of inculcating a lesson of common 
 and universal humility in the presence of the Eternal. Though 
 so ill adapted for the exercise of the reformed worship, St. 
 Paul's would serve nobly to give effect to the splendid cere- 
 monial of the Roman Church. Were the screen removed, the 
 organ placed at one side, the heavy pulpit, standing in the 
 centre and obstructing the view of the altar, replaced by one 
 of lighter construction, standing against a column at one side, 
 and the whole view left unbroken from the door, what unnum- 
 bered thousands of the faithful might then fill the vast area, 
 contemplating the ceremony which commemorates the sacri- 
 fice which has saved them, as the noble anthem fills the nave 
 and reverberates in the hollow of the dome, their souls melt- 
 ing with devotion, and all offering to Heaven the incense of a 
 common adoration! 
 
 Loitering about the aisles and angles of the vast pile, I 
 paused to look at various monuments here erected to the 
 memory of the illustrious dead. Among other honoured names, 
 1 read those of Dr. Johnson, and Howard the philanthropist ; 
 
HO THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 but the greater number were those of naval or military heroes. 
 That of Johnson and a few others were well executed ; but, 
 for the most part, they were execrably bad in design and of 
 worse execution. Almost all of them represented land or 
 sea officers in the act of dying in battle. Some had their 
 uniforms andepualettes ; some were naked ; all, however, were 
 encouraged by Britannia, or some other female genius, who 
 stood over them in the act of crowning them with a wreath 
 of laurel, but having more the air of being bent on the merciful 
 errand of taking them out of pain by knocking their brains 
 out with a powerful fist, armed with a great stone. 
 
 If, however, the sculpture were for the most part bad, the 
 inscriptions struck me as being in most instances beautiful ; 
 those of Johnson and of Nelson pleased me greatly ; and, as 
 1 stood in the centre of this mighty temple, with the dome 
 overhead, and whatever is grand and imposing around me, I 
 first fully appreciated the noble simplicity and beauty of that 
 inscription in honour of the architect, which I had before so 
 often thought of and so greatly admired. My countrymen are 
 doubtless aware that there is no monument, either here or 
 elsewhere, to the architect who designed, began, and finished 
 this stupendous edifice. Over the entrance to the choir is a 
 brief inscription to the following effect : — " Here beneath lies 
 Christopher Wren, builder of this church and City, who lived 
 more than ninety years, not for his own but the public good. 
 Reader ! if you seek his monument, — look around you !" 
 
 Having partially satisfied my curiosity below, I was very 
 glad to escape the pestering and intrusive horde of showmen, 
 and make my way up to the whispering-gallery which encir- 
 cles the dome. A neat iron railing runs round the circuit of 
 the cornice and forms a secure promenade, whence you con- 
 template the dome and its storied frescoes above, or look 
 down with dizzy wonder on the pavement and the loitering 
 visitors beneath your feet. Having reached the point imme- 
 diately opposite the entrance to .the gallery, 1 was invited, 
 
WALK TO THE CITY. Hi 
 
 with several otherf? who happened to be there, to sit down 
 and put my head to the wall. We obeyed ; and presently we 
 heard the whisperer say very audibly, " This church was built 
 by Sir Christopher Wren. It was finished in thirty-five years, 
 having only one architect, one master-mason, and during the 
 life-time of one Bishop of London. It cost one million five 
 hundred thousand pounds. The sound of this little door" — 
 liere he illustrated what he was going to say by bringing it 
 to with a tremendous jar — " is as loud as the report of the 
 heaviest cannon." This done, he went on to describe the sky- 
 light, the frescoes, and all else. I thought him particularly 
 civil, and he spoke moreover very tolerable English. Nothing, 
 indeed, could equal the grace and courtesy with which, when 
 I was going out, he inclined his head, saying, with a win- 
 ning unction, " If you please to leave any thing for the whis- 
 perer, sir, that is at your pleasure." 
 
 Having seen the library, the great bell, the trophies and tinsel 
 ornaments used in the funeral of Nelson, and the model which 
 embodies Wren's original and favourite idea for the plan of 
 this church, and which, however I had heard it praised, struck 
 me as less beautiful than that which was eventually adopted, 
 I continued the ascent upwards, in search of the view from 
 the summit. As I advanced laboriously I had time to study 
 and to admire the construction of the dome, which is very ex- 
 traordinary. 
 
 It consists of three separate shells, springing from a com- 
 mon base, but separating and becoming distinct and detached 
 at the top. The inner one, which forms the dome as seen from 
 within, is of an hemispheric form. It is built of brick. A 
 short distance from its base, a second dome, likewise of brick 
 springs from the first, aud ascending with a curve of much 
 greater circle, goes far above the inner shell, terminating in 
 the key-stone and lantern which supports the ball. Still en- 
 compassing this second shell is a third, which constitutes the 
 dome as seen from without, and whose curve is thought to be 
 
142 THE AMBRICAN IN ENGtLAND. 
 
 singularly beautiful. It is formed of wood and iron, most 
 ingeniously combined, and protected from the weather by a 
 sheathing of lead. It is ribbed and subdivided, not unlike an 
 orange after the outer peel is removed. INIaking my way up- 
 wards between the two interior shells of this singular con- 
 struction, I did not pause until I found myself at the very 
 summit, in the ball itself, into which I dragged myself with 
 somewhat more difficulty than in going through the lubber's 
 hole, by perpendicular steps. This ball which is constructed 
 of copper, is very ingenious, and, no doubt, very strong also, 
 though, as the wind rushed through it and around it with a 
 noise not unlike that of split canvass, or when whistling 
 through the blocks and rigging, and the whole swayed, and 
 yielded, and vibrated sensibly, I indulged in speculations con- 
 cerning the probable result of an aerial voyage in this copper 
 balloon should it detatch itself, and how one would feel while 
 on the journey to the churchyard at the bottom, and the par- 
 ticular shape that the balloon would be likely to assume, as 
 well as that of my own wool-gathering head, when they should 
 come to examine us. To these speculations, the din of the 
 world below, the vibrating and perceptible twitching of the 
 ball, and the mournful sighing of the wind as I seemed to sail 
 madly through it, gave a nervous and exciting, yet strange to 
 say, by no means displeasing reality. 
 
 Descending from the ball, I presently entered upon a light 
 gallery which encircles the top of the dome at the base of the 
 lantern. This is the station from which the most extensive 
 and complete view of London is commanded. The elevation 
 of the eye enables it to overlook an extent of the surrounding 
 country, boimded only by the limits of the horizon. There are, 
 however, sufficient obstructions in the way of an extensive 
 view ; one of which is the prevailing haziness of the at- 
 mosphere even in the finest weather, and the other the gloom 
 imparted to the peculiar atmosphere of this vast metropolis by 
 the use of coal as the flole article of fuel. In fme weather, how- 
 
WALK TO THE CITY. 143 
 
 ever, in midsummer, when the days are the longest, and fires 
 are only necessary for culinary purposes, and at the rising of 
 the sun when they are not yet lit, it is possible to obtain a 
 view of some extent from the dome of St. Paul's. 
 
 It was in this way that tlie laborious and talented artist 
 who has so nobly executed the panorama of London, which 
 strangers should first visit for the purpose of learning some- 
 thing of the metropolis, was able to make the drawings which 
 he has since expanded into the master-piece exhibited in the 
 Coliseum. In order to accomplish his object he is said to have 
 Jived for a year or more in tliedome of St. Paul's, for the pur- 
 pose of being at his post at the early hour at which alone any 
 thing is distinctly visible. 
 
 My attention was first attracted to the noble object upon 
 which I stood pinnacled, the dome and the church below. The 
 roof was flat, leaded, and having canals and conduits in- 
 geniously contrived to carry off the water ; the towers on the 
 front, though in any other situation they would be command- 
 ing objects, were dwindled into insignificance from this eleva- 
 tion of near three hundred and fifty feet ; and the statue of 
 St. Paul seemed the merest pigmy, though composed of enor- 
 mous masses of stone strougly clamped together with iron. 
 Extending my view beyond the Cathedral, I fancied that I 
 could trace out the situation of London in a species of basin 
 enclosing the Thames, and surrounded by an amphitheatre of 
 hills, so low as scarce to merit the name. The whole of this 
 immense space was covered with the habitations of man. In 
 general they were roofed with red tile or black slate ; and 
 from every chimney arose a thread of fleecy smoke, which, in- 
 corporating itself with the black canopy which overspread 
 the metropolis, overhung the whole scene with a species of 
 secondary and artificial night, which seemed to give the lie to 
 the noonday sun, whose rays, struggling through at various 
 points, were strangely reflected from the slate roofs on which 
 they shone. 
 
144 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 The mass of habitations was everywhere interspersed 
 with the steeples of churches ; one which was pointed out to 
 me as being St. Dunstan's, alone struck me as being curious^ 
 and there was not one which conveyed the impression of any 
 beauty; indeed, throughout my whole morning's walk, I had 
 only seen one church which was not absolutely ill -looking. 
 Intermingled with the steeples, chimneys of enormous height 
 rose solitary and unsustained. They were connected with 
 steam-engines and manufactories, and were perpetually vomit- 
 ing forth, as if in rivalry, a smoke as dense and infernal as 
 that of Vesuvius when on the eve of an eruption. 
 
 On all sides, as far as the eye could reach, the solid mass 
 was seen to extend itself, except only in the direction of the 
 wind, where the smoke being less, it was possible to determine 
 its limits. Even there the compact masses of building con- 
 tinued along the great avenues, occasionally expanding into 
 vast suburbs. The frequent occurrence of reserved squares, 
 planted with trees, and set apart as promenades for the re- 
 creation of the neighbouring inhabitants, was the most pleas- 
 ing feature in the character of a scene which had little in it 
 that was attractive. To be sure, they were at that season 
 stripped of their foliage, and without verdure to delight the 
 eye; but they conveyed to the mind the assurance that 
 the idea of health, comfort, and embellishment, found a 
 place in the thoughts of this busy throng, and that amid all 
 the triumphs of utility, something had been conceded to the 
 dictates of good taste. 
 
 By far the most conspicuous object in the scene was the 
 river. It wound its way through the vast metropolis like a 
 huge artery, serving to entertain health and cleanliness, and : 
 to furnish a ready and convenient communication. Many 
 bridges, some of them beautiful, and all of them picturesque, 
 spanned the stream, and opened a passage for thronging multi- 
 tudes from bank to bank, while trim wherries, borne quickly 
 by the tide, and the efforts of the glancing oars, were seen 
 
WALK 10 turn CITTt 145 
 
 shooting the bridgea and darting at right anglea to the rapid 
 vehicles above; coal-boats and river-craft might be seen 
 moving niore sluggishly, and lowering their masts with their 
 darkly-tanued sails as they approached the arches. 
 
 Below the last bridge the scene was of a different character 
 • for there the port of London might be said to commence, and 
 commerce displayed herself in her most active and imposing 
 forms. Far in the distance, a forest of masts and yards, 
 mingling with the habitations, showed where stood those im- 
 mense artificial basins, the docks of London, which the enter- 
 prise of her citizens has hollowed out to give security to com- 
 merce. Opposite to the entrances of these, large ships might 
 be seen preparing to descend the river and put to sea ; or, 
 having just arrived, making ready to haul into dock and de- 
 liver up tiie freighted luxuries which they were bringing as a 
 tribute from the remotest corners of the world. Between 
 these and London bridge were masses of inferior vessels, 
 lying in solid tiers, and moored head and stem. There were 
 colliers and coasting-vessels, which were discharging their 
 cargoes in lighters, to be carried to the various coal -yard* 
 along the river, to supply, with one of its most urgent and 
 universal wants, so vast a population. 
 
 Unnumbered steamers were rapidly glancing over the 
 crowded thoroughfare, and the muddy, unsightly stream, as 
 it swept away the pollutations of such an overgrown metropo- 
 lis, and wound its way between banks lined with the most 
 ill-built, ruinous, and squalid edifices, if not an object of pleas- 
 ing contemplation, yet offered a scene of unbounded animation 
 and activity. ' 
 
 In this resspect it was nowise inferior to the movement, in 
 another sense, which was going on in the streets below, es- 
 pecially in that great thoroughfare which, connecting Ludgate 
 Hill with Cheapside, half encircled St. Paul's. Here were 
 equipages of every kind, and all sorts of vehicles, whether lux- 
 a 
 
146 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 nrious or nsefiil. The noises were unbounded and deafening ; 
 for this was the most busy and populous part of the busiest 
 and most populous city in the world. The bells rang; 
 the wheels clattered : the hoofs of the struggling horses 
 resounded on the pavement, and the elegant cads offered 
 their services in carrying the by-standers to Kensington 
 or the Bank ; while the horn-blowing noses of the Jew pedlars 
 resounded perpetually and unvaryingly with " Clao ! Clao 
 Clao ! Clao !" I was deafened by the clamour, disheartened 
 and overcome. The noise, the atmosphere, the combination 
 of ill odours, the smoke and sooty particles which floated in the 
 air, and which had reduced my face and linen to the dark con- 
 dition of almost every thing I saw, all combined to overpower 
 me with languor and exhaustion. 
 
 Descending in all haste, I at length reached the pavement 
 of the church, where the ticket-sellers and showmen were im- 
 portuning two strangers who had just entered, while two old 
 women were quarrelling about some spoil, in the division of 
 which one of them had been guilty of treachery, and who seem- 
 ed on the point of coming to blows. Having waited in vain 
 in the expectation of witnessing a scattering of caps and hair, 
 I went forth from that noble temple with feelings strangely 
 mingled of admiration at its grandeur, of veneration for the 
 genius which had conceived, and the power which had exe- 
 cuted it, of awe for that divine religion which could inspire 
 the hearts of men to so stupendous an undertaking, and of 
 unmeasured disgust for those faithless stewards of its divine 
 mysteries who, already provided with the superabundant means 
 of a luxury such as was unknown to their divine Master and 
 his humble disciples, have converted this noble temple, which 
 devotion has raised to honour God, into a den of thieves and 
 money-changers. 
 
*rHE cvtf. 147 
 
 CHAPTER Xllb 
 
 THE CITY, 
 
 Buildings. Shop*. Vehicles. City Population. Bank of England. Stock 
 Exchange. Royal Exchange. Lloyds'. 
 
 HAViNa seen St. Paul's Church with the attention that it 
 merited, I set forward to complete my unfinished ramble city- 
 ward. Making the half circuit of the Cathedral, I entered 
 .Cheapside, which continues the thoroughfare from Holboni 
 and Fleet-street to the Bank. On the right, at no great dis- 
 tance, stands the celebrated church of St. Mary-le-Bow. 
 Though built by Sir Christopher Wren, it has no beauty; and 
 is not a little disfigured by a huge clock projecting from the 
 tower forward into the street, like a sign from a village inn. 
 It exhibits the hour up and down the street as far as the at- 
 mosphere will permit the eye to distinguish ; and no doubt 
 tends, by its friendly admonition, to stimulate the impatience 
 of the busy throng who urge forward in either direction. Bow 
 Church is esteemed the very focus of the City. The man who 
 is born within the sound of its bells may claim to be a genuine 
 citizen ; and if he have never been beyond the reach of the 
 same radius, he is a cockney indeed, in whom there is no 
 guile. 
 
 Many of the buildings here seemed more ancient than any I 
 had yet seen in London ; and, in looking down some of the 
 courts and passages, there were others in which this appear- 
 ance of antiquity was still more striking. Every thing spoke 
 of trade and its triumphs. Each house was a shop of some 
 sort. Here, as in all other parts of the town, the stalls of the 
 butchers, and the sellers of whatever is connected with the 
 sustenance of the teeming population, were intermingled with 
 the other shops. I was struck, as I had repeatedly been in 
 
148 THE AMERICAN IN JENaLAHD." 
 
 my walk through the Strand, with the extreme neatness of 
 the fishmongers' stands. They were often beautifully fitted, 
 having large, white, cool-looking marble slabs to expose the 
 fish on. This is a great business in London; for these fish- 
 mongers not only supply the capital, but also most of the pro- 
 vincial towns, to the distance of a hundred miles or more, and 
 sometimes even those that are situated on the coast. I was 
 afterward assured at Brighton that most of the fish consumed 
 there is drawn from London. It is the great market towards 
 which every thing directs itself, secure of an instant purchase 
 and a regular price. Besides, many of the fishermen have 
 standing contracts to supply all that they take to particular 
 fishmongers ; many of whom have indeed large fortunes, the 
 fruits of a life of assiduous industry. 
 
 Tlie press in Cheapside was far greater than in the Strand ; 
 for Holborn had also poured in its tribute of vehicles and 
 pedestrians. Enormous carts and waggons, drawn by horses 
 of corresponding bulk, piled high with merchandise, and 
 covered with the black and dismal-looking pall of a huge tar- 
 paulin, were intermingled with ponderous brewers' carts, with 
 elephant-like horses, whose size, already preposterous, was 
 rendered more so by the contrast of donkey or dog-carts im- 
 >2iediately beside them. There were also abundance of stage- 
 coaches, cabs, and omnibuses, and throngs of the private 
 equipages of the more rich. Many of these were elegant ; but 
 in general they were inferior in appearance to those I had seen 
 in Westminster. Sometimes the coachman and horses had 
 equally a fat, coarse, and ill-bred look, and the clumsy and 
 ponderous carriages were often ornamented in a preposterous 
 taste, having coats of arms of portentous dimensions, covering 
 a whole panel. Some horsemen were followed by their 
 grooms, who not unfrequently were loutish-looking fellows, 
 bedizened with glaring livery, and with a want of complete- 
 ness in their costume, as if they had been taken suddenly from 
 
 I 
 
THE CITY. 149 
 
 household Or other duties, and were unequipped for eqtlestriaa 
 operations, and not at home in the saddle. 
 
 Many citizens rode in tilburies, with their servants beside 
 them; others got over the ground more modestly in gigs 
 drawn by pony horses, and often having very low wheels, to 
 accommodate them to the stature of a donkey. This seemed 
 to me the next step to not riding at all. I noticed that, not- 
 withstanding the moist and rainy character of the climate, 
 few of the gigs had heads; whereas with us, where it 
 seldom rains, and, when it does, not suddenly, and without 
 warning or note of preparation, almost all the vehicles of 
 luxury are provided with this protection from the -weather. I 
 found afterward that English people delight to be in the open 
 air, and have a horror of being shut up. Perhaps this is a taste 
 which they imbibe in infancy and childhood, from being ac- 
 customed, in all weathers, to take exercise out of doors, and 
 to brave the elements. These worthy citizens had a bluff, 
 sturdy, and wholesome look. They were well buttoned and 
 shawled, and sat up in their gigs with an independent air. 
 though I will not answer that they would still have retained 
 it in the aristocratic, and, to them, humbling atmosphere of 
 the West End. 
 
 Cheapside brought me to the Poultry, and the Poultry to 
 Threadneedle-street. Nothing can be more dark, gloomy, 
 and overpowering to the soul that delights in bright colours, 
 and is alive to the skyey influences, than this region of banks, 
 Jews, and money-changers, where merchants congregate for 
 the transaction of the weightiest affairs. A perpetual twilight 
 reigns over this region, and all the surrounding objects are of ' 
 a murky hue ; the streets and side-walks, which are cumber- 
 ed with mud, scarce suffice to give place to the vast multitude 
 who throng thither to offer sacrifices to mammon. I fancied 
 that I could discover much difference between the money- 
 hunters of this region and those of similar places in my own 
 country. These were fuller, fatter, more rctey, more deliberate^ 
 
ilSO THE AMBBICAN IN EN€^LAND. 
 
 and more staid. They seemed very intent indeed in the pur- 
 suit of gain, "but by no means so impatient ; willing enough to 
 arrive at the result, but not disposed to run the risk of break- 
 ing the neck in the pursuit on the starting up of some unseen 
 stumbling-block. In Wall-street the same sort of men would 
 look lean, hungry, unquiet; their hands, grasping bonds, 
 stock-certificates, and promissory notes, would tremble like a 
 gambler with his last decisive card, as they might be seen 
 crossing the street in a hop and a jump, darting like lightning 
 up the steps of a bank or insurance-office, or plunging, like an 
 escaping felon, into the low dark den of a broker. 
 
 When I rejoined my friend, he had prepared for me the gra- 
 tification of seeing the Bank. It stood hard by, a gloomy, 
 prison-like building, of simple architecture, without external' 
 windows, and blackened by the coal smoke. The Bank is of 
 quadrangular form, nearly, for its figure is not quite regular, 
 aor the angles all right angles ; it contains eight open courts. 
 The rotunda is a spacious circular room, with a dome and 
 iantem, where all the stock transactions were made previous 
 to the erection of the Stock Exchange. The prison-like air of 
 the exterior was well sustained by the darkness that reigned 
 within, making lights necessary almost everywhere, by the 
 massive construction of the walls and arches, the impregnable 
 character of the doors and fastenings, and the air of stillness, 
 quietness, and mysterious solemnity which marked the ap- 
 l)earance and manner of the liveried officials. The wan clerks, 
 whose faces were shone upon by the conflicting light from 
 without and from within, as they pored over huge tomes, had 
 the air of familiars of the Inquisition studying the bloody re- 
 cords of its triumphs. 
 
 Through the politeness of one of the higher functionaries, we 
 had an opportunity of seeing some of the more secret recesses 
 of the sanctuary. Thus we were shown into an enormous 
 vault, piled high with bullion, and where they were bringing 
 i n on hand-carts some pigs of silver, which had just arrived 
 
THE CITY. 151 
 
 in a cruiser from Mexico, and which was handled with as 
 little ceremony as lead, or some other baser though more use- 
 ful metal, to which the consent of the world had not given a 
 fictitious value. I saw also the room in which are preserved, 
 and arranged conveniently for reference, all the notes that have 
 ever been issued by the Bank ; for whenever a note above a 
 certain value, which I believe to be ten pounds, is brought to 
 the Bank, it is never re-issued, but cancelled and put on file. 
 
 In another room are kept the more interesting scraps of 
 paper, wliich are yet in all the glory of their jiower. Here I 
 was not permitted to enter, not being a Bank director; but 
 the guardian of this precious deposit, thinking to gratify me, 
 brought me a small bundle, and placing it in my hand, told me 
 I held five millions of pounds sterling. As I poised the 
 feathery burden, I revolved in my mind the idea of all the 
 comforts of various kinds that these bits of paper would en- 
 able a man to surround himself with. Though I could not 
 quite convince myself that contentment would surely be ot 
 the number, yet I felt for the moment a little avaricious. I 
 think it would be a very good idea for a father, who was 
 anxious to cherish a money-getting disposition in his sou, to 
 conduct him at the outset of life to a place like this, giving 
 him to poise the paper treasure while he pictured to himself 
 its exchangeable value in houses, lands, possessions, and equi- 
 pages, and permitting him to gloat over the heaped-up masses 
 of gold and silver that cumber the vaults with all the profuse 
 abundance of any common commodity. 
 
 In coming out of the Bank by a different door from that by 
 which we had gone in, I was struck by the appearance of a 
 woman standing beside it, whose dress and countenance too 
 surely told of insanity. Her face was thin, wan, and corpse- 
 like, while the ghastliness of its expression was much en- 
 hanced by its being most preposterously rouged. This effect 
 was further augmented by the contrasting character of her 
 dress, which was a deep mourning suit ; much faded, draggled 
 
152 THB AMEHICAN IN EN&LANI). 
 
 and weather-worn. She stood tall and erect beside the door, 
 though poor evidently, yet not with the air of a suppliant, but 
 rather like the mistress of some lordly mansion, receiving ever 
 and anon, with a nod of welcome and of condescension, the 
 guests whom her hospitality had summoned. 
 
 I was not at all surprised to hear that she believed the Bank 
 and all in it to be hers ; indeed, her air and manner had al- 
 ready carried me to that conclusion. I was, however, quite 
 at fault in my conjectures as to the exciting cause which had 
 brought on so great a calamity. I fancied it some oft-told 
 tale of sudden reverse of fortune ; of possessions swept away 
 in a single mad speculation ; an impoverished family, with 
 prospects blighted, and hopes irreparably crushed. But I 
 found a melancholy pleasure in discovering that it had its ori- 
 gin in something more honourable to her woman's heart. It 
 was occasioned by a sudden revulsion of grief and horror at 
 her brother's being hung for forgery. Her hannless delusion 
 about the possession of the bank, which is the only remaining 
 comfort of her maniac existence, is nourished and kept alive 
 by the benevolence of the officers of the institution, who from 
 time to time minister from its funds such little sums as are ne- 
 cessary for her maintenance. 
 
 I do not believe in banks ; I think, — perhaps it is only a 
 prejudice, for I know little about it, — that they give facilities 
 to individuals and to nations for their own destruction and 
 that of others. My predelictions are constantly in favour of 
 hard money, and I am an entire convert to the doctrines of 
 Cobbett, that clever and sagacious rogue ; but I think that if 
 benevolence, exercised with good feeling, and taking counsel 
 of good taste, can bring a blessing on one of these institu- 
 tions, the Bank of England is surely entitled to one, for fa- 
 vouring the delusion, while it ministers to the wants, of this 
 poor heart-broken woman. 
 
 The vStock Exchange is at no great distance from the Bank. 
 It is a building erected at the expense of the Stock Brokers, 
 
THE CITY. IbZ 
 
 where they meet for the purchase and sale of Stocks, and who 
 form an association, into which no individual is admitted ex- 
 cept by ballot, and from which any one not meeting his en- 
 gagements or paying his losses in the gambling and illegal 
 operations which form no inconsiderable portion of what is 
 done here, is liable to disgraceful exclursion ; for here also, as 
 in other similar places, there is a sort of sense of honour. 
 
 A distinguished merchant who accompanied us inquired for 
 a broker to whom he was known, in order to place us under 
 his convoy, not being desirous to be seen there himself, or 
 wishing to expose us to the very rough treatment to which in- 
 truders and sight-gazers are liable : for the younger members of 
 the fraternity, charging themselves with keeping the ring, are 
 wont to fix their eyes upon strangers and interlopers, and -dis- 
 courage their return by running against them, treading on their 
 toes, and, if they become refractory, hustling them out. Not 
 being accustomed to this peculiar discipline, we had no desire to 
 run the risk of encountering it. The porter, to whom the name 
 of the broker whom we expected to see had been given, 
 thrust his head through an aperture opening on the Exchange 
 room, and called it repeatedly, when, not being answered, he 
 pronounced the individual absent. 
 
 There was a most rapid circulation, a perpetual opening 
 and shutting of doors, and a hungry, eager, impatient look 
 about the frequenters of this place, which not a little reminded 
 me of Wall-street. All seemed talking together, and in a rapid 
 tone ; many were crying out, so many consols, or so many 
 Cortes bonds at such a price, naming it, while the lower con- 
 versation of those who gossipped instead of bargained, was 
 carried on in the unintelligible jargon of the Alley, in which 
 often occurred such words as "bears, bulls, and something 
 about " lame ducks," which last I took for granted were at 
 all events no subjects for envy. 
 
 The far-famed Royal Exchange is a building of rather 
 G 5 
 
154 THE AMERICAN IN EN€^LAND. 
 
 pleasing form and architecture, completely marred, however, 
 in its appearance, like all the other edifices in this part of 
 London, by the contradictory action of the smoke and rains. 
 The dome, which surmounts the front, terminates in a golden 
 ■weathercock in the form of a grasshopper, out of compliment 
 to Sir Thomas Gresham, the original founder of the Exchange, 
 that being his crest. Some idea of the rush, the throng, and 
 the hum which prevail in this busy neighbourhood, may be 
 formed from the fact that near three hundred thousand people 
 are daily computed to pass in the front of the edifice along 
 Comhill, and perhaps an equal number by the back, in Thread- 
 needle-street. The front is adorned with columns and statues, 
 and the entrance to Change is under a massive arcade and 
 portico. 
 
 Before going to Change we went into Lloyd's. This is an 
 association of capitalists who meet in an apartment of the 
 Exchange, for the purpose of insuring vessels and their car- 
 goes. The risks are divided among a number of indivi- 
 duals, each putting his name down to pay a certain sum in 
 the event of loss, whence the name of underwriters. By having 
 a great number of small risks, their premiums enable them to 
 pay an occasional loss, and leave them in possession of a 
 handsome income to compensate them for their time. Most of 
 them are people who have grown rich by trade, and having 
 retired with capital qualifying them for the responsibility of 
 underwriting, resort to this as an occupation and means of 
 excitement, unattended, in ordinary and peaceful times, with 
 any extreme risk. 
 
 The underwriters were seated about at various small tables, 
 having pen and paper before them; some gossiping about 
 disasters at sea and reports of shipwreck, others transacting 
 business and taking risks. I was presented to one of these 
 gentlemen, and after .a moment's conversation about the mode 
 of transacting business here, and one or two questions, he 
 rather abruptly asked me the nature of the risk, little dream- 
 
THE CITY. 155 
 
 ing how odd the question would sound in the 'ears of one 
 whose worldly goods consisted in little else beside what he 
 carried with him. Refreshments were served to those who 
 had access to this establishment, which seemed to be much 
 affected by merchants and skippers. Hence its name of 
 Coffee-House, and that of Lloyds' doubtless came from the 
 individual publican at whose house capitalists first assembled 
 to insure. There are likewise Stock Companies for insurance 
 in London as with us ; but most of the commercial insurance 
 is still done by private underwriters. 
 
 Leaving Lloyds', we descended to the interior court of the 
 building, where the Exchange is held. This is a very beauti- 
 ful quadrangle, having an open space uncovered in the centre, 
 which is enclosed by ranges of piazzas, for the purpose of fur- 
 nishing shelter to those who attend the Exchange in very bad 
 weather. That the Change should be held throughout the 
 year thus in the open air, or simply under cover from the rain, 
 without exclusion of the external air, is a fact attesting the 
 mildness of the climate, though still, with all allowance for 
 this, the practice must be attended with great inconvenience, 
 exposure, and sacrifice of comfort. The covered piazza is 
 flanked within by a range of arches and pilasters, and besides 
 being tastefully ornamented, is enlivened by a collection of 
 statues arranged around the quadrangle. These are of various 
 British kings. In the centre stands a statue of Charles IL', 
 with troops of attendant Cupids. 1 suppose the circumstance 
 of this king's being selected to fill the post of honour is owing 
 to the re-construction of the Exchange daring his reign ; for 
 there could have been little congeniality between his tastes 
 and those of the frugal, industrious, and honest traders for 
 whose uses it was erected. His talents were for prodigality 
 and waste, theirs for production and re-production, economy 
 and thrifty 
 
156 THE AMERICAN IN ENClLAND^ 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CITY. 
 
 €hu)ge. American Sea Captains. Comparison with English. Rothschild. 
 His Character. Dolly's. Covent Garden. Gustavus. 
 
 It was four o'clock, and the Exchange was in all its glory as 
 we entered it. The vast open area was well-nigh full, and 
 many groups loitered behind the columns in the obscurity of 
 the piazzas. The different quarters of the world were each 
 represented by a particular division ; at the part affected by 
 Americans I felt quite at home, the more so that 1 had an op- 
 portunity of shaking hands with our worthy captain. The 
 sight of so many Americans did not a little contribute to 
 Btimulate my pride of country. It was impossible to avoid 
 comparing the American captains who were there, with the 
 coarser skippers of the land. They were well dressed, re- 
 spectable-looking men, in nowise distinguishable in their air 
 and manners from the beat people around them ; while the 
 British captains were coarse, rugged, rough of speech, not 
 unfrequently dressed in round jackets, and almost always 
 with a red and blistered nose and a liery eye. To look at 
 them, one might be disposed to say, however, these last are 
 the best sailors, the true rough knots; the others are too 
 much of gentlemen. Not at all ; there never was a greater 
 mistake. Pick out the most gentlemanlike of the Americans, 
 and the most nautical-looking Briton, and start them off to- 
 gether on any 'given service, or to any remote comer of the 
 world, and the American will beat him twenty per cent, at 
 least in his passages ; perhaps he will get back — and there is 
 no absurdity in the sujjposition, for it hapi)ens constantly — 
 before the other arrives at his destination. What is the reason 
 
TAB CITY. 157 
 
 of this difference ? Why, the American has a reputation to 
 sustain or to form ; he has something to lose or to gain. He 
 is probably part or whole owner of the noble ship he stands 
 upon, and his time is valuable to him. He is not sailing for a 
 pittance ; he is labouring to secure himself an independence, 
 and a comfortable home for the erening of life. 
 
 The contrast in the appearance and characters of this class 
 of men in the two countries, is the best illustration of the two 
 very different systems of society existing in England and 
 America. In England, owing to the peculiar character of 
 the government, the vast accumulations of wealth, and its 
 <ioncentration in a few hands, in which the legislation has for 
 centuries been placed, and naturally and necessarily exercised 
 in their own interests, a state of things has been brought 
 about, the inevitable consequence of which is, that one man 
 BOWS and another reaps ; the poor labour, and toil, and sweat, 
 and the rich luxuriate and enjoy. Hence recklessness, indif- 
 ference, servility, and the absence of pride, among the in- 
 ferior classes. In America, on the contrary, where the la- 
 bourer is in truth Worthy of his hire, there is nothing to check 
 or limit the ardour of individual exertion. 
 
 These American captains have entered upon life with no 
 superior advantages over the others. For the most part from 
 New-England, they have left their homes at an early age, 
 with nothing beyond the plain good education, the religious 
 principles, and the sound morality, nowise inconsistent with 
 the love of thrift, which that model of a commonwealth 
 furnishes to the humblest of her children. They go to 
 sea first as common sailors ; and remaining for years in the 
 same employ, by perseverance in good conduct, sobriety, and 
 assiduous attention to the interests intrusted to them, they 
 gradually win their way to the confidence of captains and 
 owners, form a character for themselves, and at the age of 
 five-and-twenty or thirty years, find themselves in command, 
 with an interest in the vessel which they sail. Meantime their 
 
158 THE AMERICAN IN ENG^LAND. 
 
 minds furnished with the foundation of a substantial education, 
 have become improved and liberalized by reading, and exten- 
 sive intercourse with various parts of the world. Their man- 
 ners, too, are gradually formed, and not being oppressed and 
 kept down by any humbling sense of inferiority, they acquire 
 a dignified, manly, and republican demeanour. From the mo- 
 ment these young men become shipmasters, they are admitted 
 at once to such a share in the profits of the trade, as blends 
 their interests completely with that of their owners. Their 
 fortune may be said to be already made. In a few years they 
 usually retire as proprietors, to live in comfort and content- 
 ment in the country in which they were born, in some peace- 
 ful village in the land of steady habits, and in the sight of the 
 sea. 
 
 But to return from this digression, which the very different 
 appearance of these nautical worthies seemed naturally to sug- 
 gest, and for which I have endeavoured to furnish a sufficient 
 reason, let us continue our rambles round this scene of bustle 
 and animation. On reaching the eastern side I was struck 
 with the regal air of a man who was leaning against one of 
 the columns, with his face towards the courtyard, giving au- 
 dience to a crowd of suppliants. He was a very common- 
 looking person, with heavy features, fiabby, pendant lips, and 
 a projecting fish-eye. His figure, which was stout, awkward, 
 and ungainly, was enveloped in the loose folds of an ample 
 surtout. Yet there was something commanding in his air and 
 manner, and the deferential respect which seemed voluntarily 
 rendered to him by those who approached him showed that it 
 was no ordinary person. "Who is that?" was the natural 
 question. " The king of the Jews." 
 
 The persons crowding round were presenting bills of ex- 
 change. He would glance 'for a moment at a paper, return it 
 with an affirmative nod, and turn to the next individual pres- 
 sing forward for an audience. Two well-looking young men, 
 with somewhat of an air of dandyism, stood beside him, mak- 
 
THB CITY. 169 
 
 ing memoranda to assist in the recollection of bargains, regu- 
 lating the whole continental exchange of the day. Even with- 
 out this assistance he is said to be able to call to mind every 
 bargain that he has made. The most singular stories are told 
 of the business habits of this extraordinary individual, who 
 manoeuvres stocks and loans with as much skill, and not 
 always without tlie same imi)ortant effect, as Napoleon did 
 armies and artillery. His favourite study is said to be looking 
 over his bills of exchange ; these are his literary pets — they 
 are both poetry and prose to him ; with these he communes 
 by the houi\ It is said that he can, on any day, tell without 
 reference every bill that is to fall due. We were delighted to 
 find that he had recovered possession of his favourite column, 
 against which lie was standing, and that the intrusive Mr. 
 Rose, on whose conduct there had been much speculation in 
 the newspapers, was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 This astonishing man was formerly the mere agent, at Man- 
 chester, of a Jew house in Frankfort, for the purchase of cot- 
 ton goods. .Subsequently he removed to London, and com- 
 menced the traffic in exchanges. He was first brought into 
 notice during the war, by transmitting to the Austrian govern- 
 ment at "Vienna the subsidy furnished by England for carrying 
 on the war. He executed this in a bold manner, at a time 
 when the older bankers declined the task, on account of the 
 agitated condition of continental affairs. After this, he was 
 regularly employed by the government in remitting funds to 
 the British troops in the Peninsula and elsewhere ; this he was 
 always able to do promptly, by rallying around him all his 
 Jew brethren throughout the continent. Of these he may now 
 be esteemed the king ; unless, indeed, his title to royal honours 
 .should be disputed by our clever and facetious high-priest, 
 who not long since conceived the project of uniting the scat- 
 tered tribes of the new Ararat of Lake Erie, and, robed like 
 Melchisadek of old, enacted such a delectable farce within 
 hearing of the roar of Niagara. 
 
160 THE AMKRICAN IN EKetLAND. 
 
 The chief origin of the present enormous fortune of this in- 
 dividual was his purchasing largely in the funds of all the old 
 established powers, towards the close of the French war and 
 Napoleon's career. He went into these stocks as deep as he 
 was able, buying extensively, then raising money on what he 
 had bought, and still going on to buy more. By the skilful 
 combination of his plans, and the rapidity of his communica- 
 tions and means of receiving intelligence, he contrived to learn 
 the result of the battle of Waterloo ten hours before it was 
 known even at the Horse-guards. The possession of such ex- 
 clusive information, of course, was turned to account by ex- 
 tensive purchases. As he anticipated, and no doubt owing, in 
 some measure, to his own speculations, the funds went up 
 astonishingly at the peace, and he found himself enormously 
 enriched. The traflBc in stocks and exchanges, in which he 
 can always make good bargains, being able to raise or de- 
 press prices slightly at his pleasure, and the contracts for 
 loans, have tended, and still daily tend, to augment this colos- 
 sal fortune. He can always take loans on more favourable 
 terms than any one else. Having received orders for certain 
 portions of any given stock from various bankers, he takes a 
 loan and divides it, reserving a portion for himself, and clear- 
 ing the premium, whicli he receives as a bonus for making the 
 contract. By this means he obviates any unfavourable reac- 
 tion on the stocks of which he is already a holder, and which 
 would have been depressed by a loan being taken at a low 
 rate. This individual may be looked on as in a peculiar man- 
 ner the banker of established governments and of the Holy 
 Alliance. War in any shape, and liberal crusades especially 
 embarassing national finances, and possibly attacking the in- 
 violability of debts contracted for'the support of prescriptive 
 right and the subjugation of the people, are not what he de- 
 sires. He has never had any thing to do with the South 
 American republics, nor with the mining speculations within 
 their territory, for which he is, of course, all the richer; Lat- 
 
THE CITY. 161 
 
 terly, he has learned to distinguish between republics, and to 
 believe that there may be such a thing as a stable one. He 
 has turned his eyes to the only one of the great nations of the 
 world whose government has undergone no change whatever, 
 in the letter or in the spirit, during the last half century of 
 struggles and bloodshed. He has seen a people including no 
 antagonist classes, no aristocracy holding in the same hand 
 the wealth with the power of the country, no child of labour 
 chained for ever hopelessly to the oar, and denied all beyond 
 the bare pittance necessary to perpetuate that existence whose 
 energies are to be devoted to the services of his task-master. 
 There labour cherishes no hostility, no deadly purpose of re- 
 venge ; there it loses no time in repining at its lot, pauses not 
 to complain, but armed with courage, secure of its rewardj 
 puts forth its energies and grasps wealth. In that country 
 the government has already quietly assumed the form and 
 fashion to which all others tend inevitably through struggles, 
 convulsions, and blood, being already in the hands of a demo- 
 cracy, from whom none have the means of withdrawing it. It 
 reposes upon the broad foundation of a whole people, unhap- 
 pily, though through no fault of ours, disfigured in some por- 
 tions of our vast territory by the existence of slavery, and the 
 presence of a distinct rare unsusceptible of amalgamation ; 
 elsewhere polluted by an inundating emigration, bringing us 
 the degraded materials of the worn-out monarchies of Europe ; 
 yet in the aggregate, intelligent, moral, cognizant at once of 
 their powers, their privileges, and the means necessary to 
 preserve them. 
 
 This man has had the discernment to discover that our 
 securities are the soundest in the world ; reposing upon the 
 existence of governments which alone presents no immediate 
 prospect of change, and the guarantee of gigantic and unex- 
 hausted resources, — upon British enterprise and British pro- 
 bity, transplanted to more fertile shores, — and on British 
 liberty, intrusted not alone to the guardianship of property and a 
 
1§^ THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 privileged few, but made the birthright of all. He has recently 
 taken a loan of one of the most ilourishing states ; has an agent 
 in America, and is likely soon to have a member of his family 
 there. Moreover, he and our great sachem have recently 
 taken each other by the hand, and he is now our financial 
 agent. It is said that these distinctions are very delightful to 
 him. He glories in being the financial representative of all 
 the great powers at this the capital of the moneyed world. 
 He has declined the offer of a title from a sovereign prince, 
 having the good sense to see that, as a noble, he would be 
 contemptible ; while, as a banker and a capitalist, he stands 
 alone and unapproached, respected and honoured alike by 
 kings and presidents. 
 
 I looked at this individual with no little interest. Men 
 without talents sometimes grow rich by economy, and by 
 hoarding whatever they lay their hands on, — by keeping close 
 pent within their pockets every sixpence which finds its way 
 there. But a man who, rising from obscurity, is able, by force 
 of mind and character, boldly and successfully to carve out 
 for himself a great career, and make himself of importance to 
 states and sovereigns, must be one of no ordinary character. 
 Greatness is not confined to any particular sphere ; it is vari- 
 ous and multiform in its mode of exhibiting itself; and Roths- 
 child may well lay claim to be as great among money-bags, 
 as Napoleon was at the head of armies. 
 
 I had never witnessed a scene of greater bustle and anima- 
 tion than when the Exchange approached its close. Thou- 
 sands and tens of thousands of pounds mingled perpetually in 
 the speech of the by-standers. Masters were bargaining for 
 the sale of vessels, or driving a trade for freights and char- 
 ters,. Every thing appeared as unsettled as ever when the 
 bell rang preliminary to the close. This seemed to communi- 
 cate a new impulse to every one. Differences suddenly dis- 
 appeared before the necessity of a speedy conclusion, and peo- 
 ple separated with a shake of the hand in faith of agreement . 
 
THB CITY. 163 
 
 At half past four the bell again sounded to give notice to de- 
 part. The vast crowd at once poured out by the various out- 
 lets, talking as they went of ships, cargoes, exchanges, insur- 
 ance, speculations, and bankruptcies, and all the other terms 
 that pertain to trade, and which, though jargon to the ears of 
 those who do not understand them, are solid sense, and solid 
 money too, to such as are in the secret. 
 
 Leaving the Exchange we traced our way, by the aid of gas 
 and the faint glimmerings of day' that yet remained, down 
 Cheapside to St. Paul's Churchyard, where we struck off to 
 the right in search of Dolly's Chop-house, so famous now 
 as in past centuries for its excellent beefsteaks. The coffee- 
 room had an air of antiquity ; for though the building had been 
 renewed from time to time, yet parts of the old structure had been 
 retained; among others, the chimneys, which are antique, pro- 
 jecting, and have a quaint air. The beefsteaks were very sen- 
 sibly served, in detachments, brought in hot on pewter dishes, 
 with heated plates of the same to eat from. They were cut 
 very thin, and were not particularly good. There was one 
 reflection, however, that seasoned the meal ; and that was, 
 that Addison, Steele, Goldsmith, and Johnson, not to mention 
 inferior names, had often feasted similarly in the very same 
 place. Perhaps on the very spot where I was then sitting, the 
 stomachs of those departed worthies had been strengthened to 
 the conception of a Cato, a Deserted Village, or a Rasselas. 
 After all, unromantic as it may seem, food is the element from 
 which all else is derived ; and a beef-steak may be looked upon 
 alike as the convertible representative of a sweetly soothiug and 
 seductive poem, an exquisite tale, and a sublime tragedy, as of 
 a piece of calico. Invigorated by it, the blacksmith ham- 
 mers, the bard muses, the sage loses himself in contemplation, 
 and the tragic poet soliloquizes. 
 
 The idea is very amusing and very odd, yet perhaps very 
 possible, that these beautiful lines of Thompson — 
 
164 TBB AMERICAN IN XK^LAND. 
 
 " How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies f 
 What softness in its melancholy face; 
 What dull complaining innocence appears! 
 Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife 
 Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you waved ; 
 No, 'tis the tender swain's well-guided shears. 
 Which, having now, to pay his annual care, 
 Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load. 
 Will send you bounding to your hills again." 
 
 might, if chemically analyzed, and resolved back into their 
 first elements, be found to settle down quietly into a mutton- 
 chop devoured at Dolly's. Verily, if sentiment be not mere 
 humbug, at any rate poetry is, without disparagement, nothing 
 more than beef and mutton transformed. 
 
 We closed the day at Convent Garden. The entrance to 
 this theatre is not so grand as to Drury Lane, nor are the ar- 
 rangements in any respect so elegant and commodious. Yet 
 there is no want of space, large foyers filled with the same 
 description of occupants, and sufficient outlets and vomito- 
 ries. The entertainment began with the opera of Gustavus, 
 from the French. The exhibition of scenery and dresses was so 
 splendid as to leave one, apt to be carried away by present im- 
 pressions, little disposition to regret the Royal Academy or 
 San Carlo. The scene in the masquerade was indeed most 
 brilliant. The acting in this piece was very good ; and the 
 music, though beautiful in itself, was sadly anglicised in the 
 delivery. The figurantes, of which there were an immense 
 number, formed the prettiest collection of women I had ever 
 seen on the stage, so far at least as the head and bust were 
 concerned. They had charming countenances ; and, instead 
 of paint and brickdust, were beautifully tinted with the hues 
 of health and with nature's vermilion. Unfortunately, their 
 figures were squat, with a superabundance of body in the bot- 
 tle form, sustained upon bad legs and feet. At the Scala, at 
 San Carlo, or the Academy, I had often admired the effect of 
 the full corps entering in time to a graceful musiC; and moving 
 
THB CITT. 165 
 
 their limbs and bodies in a delightful and most seductive har- 
 mony. I never saw any thing more burlesque than the same 
 thing on this occasion. The troupe came tripping in, clothed 
 with meretricious smiles, and an air of forced unction, as they 
 bowed out of time, as if lame first in one leg and then in the other. 
 Their movement was what a sailor would call of the "step and 
 fetch it order," or a species of "heaving and setting like a goat 
 tied to a gate-post." In order to ^lake their demerits the 
 more glaringly enormous, the corps was interspersed with 
 several foreign dancers, headed by Celeste, and the discre- 
 pance in their movements was too palpable. There was, how- 
 ever, one brilliant exception among the English part of the 
 company to the application of this sweeping denunciation of 
 tlie figures and movement. This, too, was in the case of the 
 best singer and actress of the evening, and among the most 
 pleasing that I saw in England. Let me for a moment pause 
 to do justice to the legs of Miss Sheriff. She appeared as a 
 page, and a more interesting one could scarce be seen. Many 
 of my readers may have seen lithographs of her, presenting 
 the invitation to the ball, on the frontispiece of the music of 
 Gustavus. Her singing was admirable, but it was her leg that 
 convulsed the house with applause. And well might it : for it 
 was one from which Shakspeare might have caught a new 
 charm to embellish his description of Rosaline's, or Robin Burns 
 have dreamed of in his vision, when he exclaims at the recol- 
 lection — 
 
 '« And'such a leg ' my bonny Jean 
 Could only peer it; 
 
 Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and clean, 
 Nane else came near it." 
 
 1 afterward found that the enthusiastic admiration of a fine 
 female leg was a prevailing taste in England. A means of 
 accounting for it may perhaps be found in its extreme rarity. 
 Each theatre is obliged to provide for this taste, by having, if 
 possible, a pair of fine legs in the troupe, Madame Vestris' 
 
166 THfi AMEllICAK IN BKdLAKD. 
 
 have long been peerless in England. I have knovjrn personB, 
 deliberating about the selection of a theatre for the amuse- 
 ment of the evening, decide for the Olympic, on discovering 
 that Vestris' character would involve the exhibition of her 
 legs. In this way the mere exhibition of her legs is worth 
 some hundred pounds to her annually. 
 
 During the opera I was exceedingly amused by a piece of 
 dry English humour practised by some one at the top of the 
 house. The principal male singer was spinning out his voice 
 to the most delicate thread possible, in one of the fine passages, 
 and had reached the very climax of his capabilities, when this 
 wag uttered audibly a deep and plaintive groan. The effect 
 was irresistibly ludicrous. I had been doubting for some time 
 whether to be carried away by admiration or not, when the 
 fellow's groan convinced me that all was not exactly right. 
 Soulless brute as he doubtless was, it would have been 
 impossible for him thus to have accompanied the exertion of a 
 Rubini's power. I never knew a dog to interrupt a burst of 
 really fine music, though I have often heard one accompany a 
 beginner on the flute, or howl in concert to an unwearying 
 hand-organ. The sublime and the ridiculous are, after all, 
 very nearly allied in this sort of music. One always knows 
 indeed when it is admirably done ; but there is a species of 
 mean excellence that is very embarrassing, and often puzzles 
 those who admire without critical t>kill, and only by the effect 
 of their impressions. 
 
 The opera was succeeded by a most amusing farce, full of 
 well-managed perplexities and inpeiiious dilemmas. Kissing 
 and caressing were carried on through every scene, and the 
 whole piece abounded with e(iuivoque8, play upon words, and 
 not a few indecent allusions, which, being more direct and in- 
 telligible to the obtuse, were received with greater acclama- 
 tion. The pictures of middle life in England seemed at once 
 national and true ; for they were acted with great life and 
 spirit, and received with unmeasured commendation. The 
 
 i 
 
EXCURSION TO THE TUNNBL. 1^7 
 
 audience broke np grinning gloriously, and well pleased with 
 their money's worth of entertainment. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 EXCURSION TO THE TUNNEL. 
 
 Westminster Hall. Court of King's Bench. Great Brewery. Thames 
 Tunnel. Its Construction. Importance of its Completion. 
 
 At an early hour the succeeding day my friend called for me 
 in his cabriolet, to take me to Westminster Hall, to witness a 
 most interesting trial, in a case which was to come on in the 
 Court of King's Bench. The prisoners were a member of 
 Parliament and a soldier of the Coldstream Guards ; their 
 conviction involved capital punishment, and public attention 
 had been much awakened through the newspapers to the 
 coming trial. 
 
 As we drew up in front of the venerable pile, associated, 
 during so man}'^ centuries, with almost every event in the 
 history of this great nation, my attention was attracted to it 
 'tvith no little interest. 1 found the external appearance of 
 this celebreted edifice far less noble and imposing than I had 
 anticipated. Originally a very pure specimen of Gothic 
 architecture, its simplicity has been greatly marred by addi- 
 tions in a very mixed taste, which do not harmonize with it. 
 Thus there are two square towers, battlemented at the top, 
 which flank the front, and which, while they conceal the pile, 
 yet convey in themselves no impression of grandeur or beauty, 
 fOr their height is very inconsiderable. Other constructions of 
 recent date, connected with the courts of law or the House of 
 Parliament, which join the Hall, tend, by their want of har- 
 mony, still further to disfigure it and destroy its character of 
 simplicity. 
 
 Nothing, however, can be simpler or grander than the effect 
 
168 THE- AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 of the Hall when seen from within. You find yourself in a 
 vast edifice, near three hundred feet ih length, having on 
 every side nothing but the plain walls of stone, and no 
 colunm or obstruction of any sort to intercept the view 
 and break the character of simplicity and vastness. High 
 over head rises a bold and hardy roof, supported by no 
 columns, but propped with inconceivable lightness and grace 
 on a aeries of wooden groinings, springing from stone mul- 
 lions on the side walls. This roof is built entirely of chest- 
 nut wood, put together with the greatest ingenuity, and is 
 richly ornamented with the heraldic emblems of Richard II., 
 by whom it was built, carved everywhere in the wood. It is 
 almost entirely the same as it was* constructed towards the 
 commencement of the fifteenth century, and yet bears no 
 impress of decay. In the various specimens of Gothic ar- 
 chitecture which I have seen throughout the continent, there 
 was nothing which bore any resemblance whatever to this, 
 or at all prepared me for the impression which its eccentri- 
 city, lightness, and beauty produced upon me. 
 
 Westminster Hall was originally erected for a banqueting- 
 room. In the eleventh century it was already used for that 
 purpose, and several hundred years later Richard II, kept his 
 Christmas feast here, which was partaken of by no fewer 
 than ten thousand guests. It was reasonable enough, there- 
 fore, that there should have been, as we are told, no fewer 
 than twenty-eight roasted oxen, and other animals without 
 number, devoured on this occasion. It is still devoted oc- 
 casionally to the same use ; for here George IV. at no distant 
 day held his coronation banquet, with a consumption of 
 food, moreover, which clearly shows that change of times 
 brings no innovation in the carnivorous appetites of man. 
 Here, too, in times past, the High Court of Parliament was 
 often held ; and here it was, subsequently to my visit, ques- 
 tion of temporarily holding it during the re-construction of 
 the houses after their unfortunate destruction by fire. At 
 
EXCURSION TO THE TUNNEL'. 169 
 
 present it is only used as one of the thoroughfares leading to 
 the House of Commons, and to the courts of Chancery 
 Exchequer, King's Bench, and Common Pleas, which hold 
 their sittings in apartments adjoining it. 
 
 "When I had recovered a little from the deep impression of 
 astonishment and admiration which the contemplation of 
 this magnificent pile awakened, I followed my companion to 
 the Court of King's Bench, wljich is situated at the right- 
 To our great regret, we found it completely full. The room 
 was of a square figure, and lit from a skylight above; the 
 judges seemed to be seated opposite, under a canopy dis- 
 playing the arms of England ; the lawyers were arranged on 
 grades of benches ascending from the bar; while the spec- 
 tators stood on either hand, and in small galleries above. 
 The avenues were likewise choked with persons standing 
 and stretching forward to hear ; so that I was unable to force 
 my way into the dense mass. I could see nothing of the 
 judges, the counsel, or the prisoners, whose situation, was so 
 awful, and whose countenances I was anxious to study. I 
 was barely able to catch sight of one or two neatly curled 
 barristers' wigs, terminating in double queues or pigtails. 
 
 I was exceedingly vexed at not getting in. The details, to 
 be sure, were likely to be very disgusting, and the newspapers, 
 which penetrate every domestic circle in the land, and which 
 about this time seemed to look upon information of this 
 character as a necessary part of the intelligence and intellec- 
 tual nutriment of the day, exhibited them the next morning 
 in all their enormity. Yet my curiosity was much excited ; 
 for the first legal talents in the country were enlisted in the 
 defence, and the Duke of Wellington, backed by peers and 
 poets, the aristocrac)' of rank and the aristocracy of genius, 
 were there present to testify to the character of the accused, 
 and re-act in favour of an individual, Avho, by birth and ta- 
 
 H 
 
170 THK AMERICAN IN ENC^LANC. 
 
 lents, belonged to both, and save their mutual castes from the 
 fonl stain resulting from a conviction. 
 
 Crowded, squeezed, in momentary danger of parting with 
 my coat-tails, yet without seeing any thing, or the prospect 
 of being able to do so, I was certainly in a very bad humour, 
 and felt very unamiable, — for there is nothing so irritating 
 and exhausting as the surrounding pressure of a crowd. As 
 I forced myself out, with as much of my coat as I conld 
 carry with me, I had no eye to admire anew the magnificence 
 of that noble Hall of Westminster, into which I had again 
 emerged ; but abandoned myself to the most illiberal reflec- 
 tions on the vices that spring from idleness and an exhausted 
 refinement, and drawing arguments against the existence of 
 standing armies. 
 
 Having looked into some of the other courts, and found 
 nothing of particular interest there, it was proposed that we 
 should continue our ride, and visit the Tunnel, stopping in 
 our way at the great brewery of Barclay and Perkins, whose 
 fame had already been announced to me at the comer of al- 
 most every street in London. The ordinary sign of a porter- 
 house, or gin-shop, being in almost every case coupled with 
 the conspicuously-displayed notification of— " Barclay and 
 Perkins's entire." I was told, indeed, that the great London 
 brewers are the proprietors of most of the favourite tavern- 
 stands, by which means they are able to make terms with 
 the lessee favourable to the consumption of their commo- 
 dity. Having crossed Westminster Bridge, walking over to 
 enjoy the view, while our vehicle drove on before us, we 
 utruck into a very busy and populous, though utilitarian and 
 inelegant quarter of the town, and at length came to this vast 
 establishment, which is almost a suburb of London ; liaving 
 whole streets and ranges of edifices, and which, standing by 
 itself, would make a very tolerable town. 
 
 Here was a whole population devoted to the production of 
 
 i 
 
EXCURSION TO THE TUNNEL. 171 
 
 beer. They seemed also to be consumers to a very consider- 
 ablp extpnt; for they were rosy, hale, and portly. Horses of 
 enormous size were circulating in various directions, either 
 harnessed in numbers to ponderous carts, laden with the 
 drowsy fluid, to trans])ort to customers in every quarter of 
 the metropolis, or else singly drawing a barrel about on a 
 wooden drag, similar to a sled. These sleds are seen in all 
 parts of London, and they struck me as offering a solitary ex- 
 ception to the rigorous exclusion from the streets of whatever 
 can in anyway interfere with the public convenience and safety. 
 They are certainly dangerous ; and I once saw one of them, 
 at the turning of a corner, run directly under the legs of a 
 pair of horses, before they could be pulled up by the postilion. 
 Having exhibited the letter of introduction of which we 
 were bearers, we were admitted to the establishment, and 
 \mt in charge of a person to conduct us. We were first 
 shown the vast repositories in which the malt is stored. The 
 malt used in making beer is simply barley parched, or sub- 
 mitted to the same process with coffee preparatory to making 
 the decoction. The store was so arranged that the malt 
 could be let at once through a trap, in any given quantity, 
 into the large boilers below. The beer is made in three large 
 coppers, each capable of containing three hundred and forty 
 barrels. The malt and boiled hops are added together, and 
 boiling water is perpetually forced up from below. This pro- 
 cess goes on twelve hours. In order to mix the whole inti- 
 mately, a machine called a rouser, which is worked by steam, 
 revolves perpetually within tlie coppers, disturbing the hops 
 and malt, and preventing them from settling. When the li- 
 quor is sufficiently boiled, it is carried off to the fermenting 
 vats, where it gradually cools, and goes through the process 
 of fermentation. I was struck here by the singular eflect 
 which the sun produced in shining through the blinds, and 
 casting its light obliquely over the purple vapour evaporating 
 
172 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 from the vat;?. When the fermentation is complete, and the 
 beer drawn off into the vats in which it is preserved, the va- 
 rious vessels are cleansed, and the process is renewed the 
 next day. 
 
 Every thing in this establishment is on a vast and magnifi- 
 cent scale, and the buildings and works are executed with 
 neatness, elegance, and solidity. There are, among other 
 things, eight vast hop-lofts, each seventy yards long by forty 
 wide ; curiously-contrived purchases for lifting and cleansing 
 parts of the machinery ; railways to bring the coal from its 
 depository to the furnaces ; and even a very beautiful suspen- 
 sion bridge, spanning a street, to connect the upper stories of 
 opposite edifices. I never saw engines in more complete or- 
 der than the two which move the various machinery of this 
 establishment. Both of them were of Watts's construction ; 
 and it seemed to me not a little creditable to the genius of 
 that distinguished machinist, that he should himself have 
 brought to such perfection, for manufacturing purposes at 
 least, a complicated contrivance, which the ingenuity of so 
 many persons who have devoted themselves to its study has 
 not been able essentially to imi)rove. There is much about 
 the air of this establishment to convey the idea, not of some- 
 thing connected with individual enterprise, but of those vast 
 public works, such as magazines, arsenals, and dockyards, in 
 which the greatness of a powerful nation exhibits itself 
 There was a massive stone inscription let into one of the walls 
 of a new building, setting for(h, for the benefit of posterity, 
 that its construction had been commenced in INIay of the pre- 
 vious year, and finished in November. This was a despatch 
 that woald have excited wonder even in our own land of im- 
 patience. 
 
 In one of the courtyards is a beautiful iron tank, supported 
 on columns, at a suflicient elevation to carry water to any 
 part of the works ; this is capable of containing fifteen liun- 
 
 I 
 
EXCURSION TO THE TUNNEL. 173 
 
 dred barrels of water. Neatness, order, and arrangement 
 prevail throughout every department of this vast establish- 
 ment. The stables would remind one of the military preci- 
 sion of a cavalry barrack, though the animals themselves were 
 not such as would have figured well in a charge, being 
 strangers to every other gait than a walk ; they were enor- 
 mous animals, indeed, and of great price, many of them hav- 
 ing cost as high as sixty or seventy guineas. A number of 
 them were distinguished from their comrades by having a 
 wisp of straw woven into tiieir tails. On asking what they 
 had done to be thus honoured above their compeers, I was 
 told that they were either lame or requiring to be shod. At 
 a distance from the stable, a very neat edifice was pointed 
 out as the horse-infirmary, where those which were in deli- 
 cate health were delivered over to kinder care and treat- 
 ment. The stable-men and drivers were as colossal as their 
 horses; indeed, the appearance of all the people about this 
 establishment went to prove that beer-drinking, after all, is 
 not such a bad thing in its physical effects : for these people 
 are, many of them, allowed a half gallon a day, which some 
 extend, from their own means, to twice that quantity. Its 
 tendency, however, did not seem to be to ([uicken the intel- 
 lect ; for most of them had a dull, drowsy, and immoveable 
 look. It was impossible to detect any intellectuality in their 
 countenances, or speculation in their eyes. 
 
 It is in the cellars, however, where the beer is preserved, 
 that one is most struck with the extent, and, if I may use the 
 word, the grandeur of this establishment. A system of cast- 
 iron columns props beams of the same material, while on all 
 sides are ranged huge vats, containing beer in a condition for 
 use. There were no fewer than one hundred and sixteen of 
 these, wrach average two thousand barrels of- thirty-six gallons 
 each, and the larger: fc of which contains three thousand four 
 hundred barreltJ ; so that thei^e are actually always two hua- 
 
174 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 dred and thirty-two thousand barrels of beer on hand here. 
 One may imagine what would be the effect of an accident 
 which should burst these vats simultaneously. The beer de- 
 luge would become as fixed a part of the traditions of South- 
 wark, as that of the olden time is of all mankind. 
 
 We left this vast establishment without any disposition to 
 sneer with the conceited and the silly at brewers and brew- 
 eries ; perhaps there is no more direct road in this country to 
 great wealth, and all the consequences which it carries with 
 it, than the diligent and successful prosecution of this business. 
 Barclay and Perkins were the clerks, and became the succes- 
 sors of Mr. Thrale, who was able through his wealth, aided 
 by his own good taste and that of his wife, to surround him- 
 self, at his villa of Streatham, with a distinguished circle of 
 the literary men of his time. When Mr. Thrale died, the 
 brewery only occupied one fourth of its present space, and 
 was every way inconsiderable in proportion ; yet Johnson was 
 at that time so impressed with its grandeur, that he is said, 
 by the gossiping jackal who has commemorated his slightest 
 doings, to have exclaimed at the sale, he being one of the 
 trustees, with a peculiar display of that '^weight of words" 
 which Dr. ;^arr, in the inscription I had seen the day before in 
 St. Paul's, so felicitously ascribes to him, " We are not here, 
 gentlemen, to sell a mere collection of empty vats and beer- 
 barrels, but the potentiality of growing rich beyond the wildest 
 dreams of avarice." 
 
 From the brewery we drove to a neighbouring printing es- 
 tablishment, where that admirable publication, the Penny 
 Magazine, is struck off by a most ingenious process, and sent 
 at an inconsiderable expense to the remotest corners of the 
 kingdom, carrying within the humblest roofs healthful and in- 
 vigorating nourishment for the intellect, substituting a 
 pleasing and almost gratuitous relaxation for the costly and 
 debasing dissipation of gin-shops and taverns, and in impart- 
 
BXoaasioN to the tctnnbl. 175 
 
 ing to the mind a little information, implanting at the game 
 time the desire to obtain more. 
 
 As the Thames tnnnel was at no great distance, my compa- 
 nion proposed that we should drive there. I asked nothing bet- 
 ter; and we were soon set down at its entrance. We entered 
 the enclosure leading to the shaft by a recording turnstile 
 similar to that on London bridge, intended as a check on the 
 possible dishonesty of the clerk, by taking note of each shil- 
 ling*s worth of humanity that passes it. The present descent 
 to the tunnel is by a spiral stairway of wood constructed in 
 the shaft, pierced for the commencement of the work and 
 the removal of the rubbish. Should the work ever be com- 
 pleted, it will be approached by carriages by means of circular 
 and spiral descents at either end, after the manner of the 
 Tower- of Giralda. In the shaft, beside the wooden stairway, 
 were seen the conduits of the pump, worked by a powerful 
 steam-engine, by means of which the leakage is carried off, 
 and the excavation kept free from water. 
 
 Having descended about sixty feet from the surface of the 
 bank of the river, the tunnel broke suddenly upon our view. 
 It consists of two separate roads : the left alone was visible, 
 being lighted with gas. They are of horse-shoe form, leaning 
 towards each other, their sides being nearly straight on th« 
 inside, though quite oval without. They are arched on the 
 bottom as well as the top, in order to be tight, and defended 
 in all directions. Being plastered over and well lighted, the 
 effect of this subterranean passage was singularly striking and 
 grand, even without superadding the conception of its position 
 beneath the bed of a river, and the wonderful novelty and 
 hardihood of the undertaking. The idea is, however, con- 
 stantly forced upon your attention by the dripping of the 
 water, the sense of dampness and chilliness, and the hoarse 
 panting of the steam-engine and the valves of the huge pumps, 
 the only sounds which disturb this solitude, and remind you 
 
176 THE AMEKICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 of the peculiarity of your situation. You look irresistibly over 
 head, bewildered at the thought that a mighty estuary flows 
 there, cut by thousands of Hitting wherries, and groaning 
 under the burdens of huge ships laden to their very gunwales, 
 and that it is for ever struggling, with subtle and resistless 
 power, to make a breach and rush in. When you recollect, as 
 you stand beneath the very centre of the stream, that barely 
 five yards intervene between the crown of the tunnel and the 
 bed of the river, you more than expect to see some great an- 
 chor, dropped from the bows of an Indiaman, come crashing 
 through the top, letting in the river itself and every thing in 
 it — a deluge, with all its conse(iuences of desolation and death. 
 
 When I learned the very little interval between the Tunnel 
 and the river, it struck me that the ingenious engineer would 
 have more surely tested the practicability of his plan, and 
 placed it still further beyond the possibility of failure, by 
 going ten or more feet deeper. The only inconvenience that 
 could have grown out of this, would have been the adding, in 
 a very trifling degree, to the descent to reach the level on 
 either side. It struck me, that there was another mistake in 
 not making the two passages separate altogether. They are 
 now connected by arches, which form openings in the 
 dividing-wall between them ; so that any accident or sudden 
 leak in the one involves equal exposure to the other. 
 
 My countrymen are doubtless aware of the mode in which 
 this stupendous work was carried on ; for the interest which 
 it excited in America at the time of its construction was un- 
 bounded; and the newspapers kept us perpetually acquainted 
 with the details, which were read with an interest nowise 
 inferior to what a bulletin of Napoleon might have com- 
 manded some years earlier. The mirror, placed at the ex- 
 tremity of the work, prevented me seeing the iron machine in 
 which the excavators worked, and which was pushed forward 
 as they njade room for it, and as the arching became complete 
 
EXCURSION TO THB TUNNEL. 177 
 
 behind. This mirror, by reflecting the portion of the Tunnel 
 already finished, gave to the whole the air of completeness 
 and perfection, and presented it to the view precisely as it 
 would have appeared ere this, had no accident occurred to 
 exhaust the funds of the company and arrest its prosecution. 
 
 The beauty and symmetry of the prospect, the effect of the 
 series of lights, extending in endless vista, and the dwindling 
 perspective as the eye lost itself in search of the extremity, 
 all, by conjuring up a complete picture of what the thing 
 might have been, tended to increase the regrets it was im- 
 possible to feel in the recollection of what it is not. The 
 practicability . of the undertaking is indeed already fully 
 tested ; for more than half the distance across is complete^ 
 and the deepest part of the river, where its bottom and the 
 top of the Tunnel most nearly approach each other, is already 
 passed in triumph, and the greatest danger is now be- 
 hind. Money alone is wanting to complete this labour of 
 surpassing magnificence and unquestioned utility. 
 
 Begun as a speculation, with a view to the profitable in- 
 vestment of capital, in a country where capital overflows, the 
 patience of the stock holders, called upon perpetually for new 
 investments instead of stretching forth their hands to receive 
 the forthcoming interest, has long since exhausted itself. It 
 can only now be ever completed by a grant of money from 
 Parliament, and as a national undertaking. This question has 
 already been adverted to in the House of Commons, and no 
 doubt something will ere long be done. "When twenty 
 millions are freely voted for a speculative good to be con- 
 ferred at a distance from home, and from which the possibility 
 of the most disastrous consequences is not wholly excluded, 
 one million might well be granted to complete an undertaking 
 so intimately connected with the convenience and prosperity 
 of this vast metropolis, and which in grandeur, in hardihood, 
 
 as a proof of human ingenuity and human power, will yield 
 H o 
 
17& THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 to nothing within the whole circle of whatever man has yet 
 achieved. 
 
 The present generation of Englishmen can convey to their 
 descendants, in all future times, no higher idea of their pro- 
 sperity and greatness than by bequeathing to them such a 
 legacy. The fame of Waterloo may fade when blended in the 
 memory with the brighter glories of Cressy and Poictiers; 
 even the Nile and its Nelson may be eclipsed by the fresher 
 triumphs of heroes that are to come ; but no lapse of time 
 can diminish the impression of such a work as this, whose 
 utility will always preserve it from decay, which is not likely 
 to be elsewhere repeated, and which, at any rate, can never 
 be surpassed. 
 
THE BIYSB. 17$ 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE RIVER. 
 
 Thttne* Wherries. Utility of the Tunnel. London from the Thjuoet. Mot*. 
 mem on the Rirer. Tower of London. Regalia. 
 
 Having dismissed our vehicle to return home, intending to 
 take the water from the Tunnel to the Tower, we had scarce 
 emerged into the open air before we were assailed by water- 
 men, crying "Sculls, sir! Sculls!" assuring us of a good 
 tide, although they had not the slightest idea in which direc- 
 tion we were going, and offering their services most elo- 
 quently in the language of the river. When we were seated 
 in one of the light wherries, and found ourselves skimming 
 fleetly under the influence of a single pair of sculls, I felt in a 
 mood to do full justice to the attractions of this most agree- 
 able conveyance. The Thames wherries are indeed among the 
 most beautiful boats I have seen. Their form is somewhat 
 between our Whitehall skiffs and a Greek caique, and they 
 have much of the beauty and grace of both united. 
 
 As we were receding from the Tunnel, my friend mentioned 
 it to me as a curious fact, that Brunei, the constructor of this 
 Tunnel, and of many other works in England that are full of 
 inventive genius and originality, on leaving his native country 
 of France, had first gone to America, and had resided some 
 time in New York. He there built the Park Theatre, an un- 
 graceful pile, which was certainly preluding very hopelessly 
 to the construction of the Tunnel. It was now that we could 
 best appreciate the vast utility of this noble enterprise. An 
 extent of three or four miles of the upward and downward 
 course of the river was seen to be covered on either hand with 
 habitations, manufactories, warehouses, and docks crowded 
 
180 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 with shippiDg, evidently constituting the most busy portion of 
 this overgrown metropolis ; yet here was no means of passing 
 except by wherries, and the nearest point at which the river' 
 could be traversed by a vehicle was at London Bridge, which 
 lay some miles above. All this stretch of river constituted 
 the port of London, and no bridge, though provided with a 
 draw, could exist here without materially injuring the naviga- 
 tion, and causing, to arriving and departing vessels, inconve- 
 nience, possible injury, and the frequent loss of a tide. Hence 
 the impossibility of having a bridge at a point where yet one 
 is the most needed. 
 
 Flying bridges, moved by steam, if I may so denominate the 
 conveyances by which our rivers are conveniently traversed* 
 are not applicable to the Thames, where the great rise and 
 fall of the tide would render getting on board of them with 
 carriages a difficult matter ; and where, moreover, the navi- 
 gation might occasionally be interrupted by want of water. 
 Hence the immense advantage of the submarine connection by 
 means of the Tunnel, connecting the populous and busy dis- 
 tricts of Rotherhithe and Wapping, and the vast suburbs ad- 
 joining, without at all impeding the navigation of the river. — 
 Let us hope, for the honour of the age in which we live, and 
 the nation from which we are sprung, that this noble work 
 will ere long be completed. Would it not be right, moreover, 
 that they who first had the faith and greatness of soul to be- 
 lieve in such a grand idea, should not be abandoned to the 
 simjjle consolation which that reflection may afford them ? — 
 They should not be permitted to lose their money because they 
 had faith beyond their generation. The state should come to 
 their succour, and take care, when the work is complete, that 
 they be first reimbursed from its profits. 
 
 The individual who expects to be struck with the beauty of 
 London, as he sees it from the river, will be greatly disap- 
 pomted. It offered to the eye, as we shot out into the stream, 
 
THE RIVER. 181 
 
 a flat shore on either side, lined with irregular and wretched 
 houses, of squalid and most ruinous appearance. Some of 
 these were warehouses, at which goods were received from, 
 or discharged into, canal-boats and lighters. Others were the 
 'dwellings of such as lived by the inelegant occupations of 
 the river and the sea, to which it was the outlet. They had a 
 filthy and sluttish look : yetevenhere were evidences of the pre- 
 valence of that rural taste which is a striking and most pleasing 
 attribute of the land, though it evinced itself only in tubs of 
 grass and shrubbery exposed at a window, to the peril of the 
 watermen below, and occasionally, a cracked flower-pot, te- 
 nanted by a monthly rose. 
 
 The towers and steeples overlooking this unsightly boundary 
 of the river's course, were chiefly awkward in their forms, and 
 spoke little for the magnificence of the city beyond. The 
 dome of St. Paul's rose with boldness and grandeur, looming 
 hugely through the smoke. Now and then a dense forest of 
 masts and yards marked the situation of one of the vast dofcks, 
 in which the tide, with its burden of freighted ships, is shut 
 up, and showed where was concentrated the more valuable 
 trade of the commercial metropolis of the world. 
 
 Though the scene was deficient in beauty, it was not want- 
 ing in activity and life. In the river the vessels were in many 
 parts so crowded as to be moored side by side. This was es- 
 pecially the case where the colliers from Newcastle and Sun- 
 derland lay. The river seemed to form a kind of floating 
 community in itself, a district of London, with its popula- 
 tion, its floating chapels, its jiolice stations, its refectories. — 
 Bells tinkled on all sides, inviting the lovers of gin and rum 
 to drink and be merry. The movements of barges, canal- 
 boats, wherries, and steamers, with ships, brigs, and 
 schooners, beating up with the tide under their lee, or sailing 
 less fleetly before the wind, added to the noise of the steamers 
 and watermen, formed altogether a scene of bustle and anima- 
 
182 THE AMERICAN IN EN&LAND. 
 
 tion comparable only to that which was exhibited in another 
 way by Piccadilly or Cheapside. 
 
 Here, too, it was very easy to be run over, if one had the 
 least taste for such a catastrophe. It required no little care 
 to navigate among so many difficulties. The waterman, as 
 he at the same time guided and propelled the light wherry, 
 looked warily over either shoulder. And reason good ; for not 
 a day passes by without its record of drowning or disaster. 
 As we stepped into the boat, we had been confronted by the 
 conspicuously-displayed and comforting notification where 
 might be found the apparatus of the Humane Society for the 
 recovery of drowned persons ; while beside it a man was just 
 then posting the following placard : — " One pound reward for 
 the body of William Jones, who was drowned yesterday, near 
 Southwark Bridge. Had on a blue jacket and check shirt. To 
 be kept afloat." To be kept afloat! Poor fellow! Tf he 
 could have kept himself so, his old mother, for Elizabeth 
 Jones, who signed the paper, was doubtless she, might have 
 saved her pound, and rejoiced in a live son instead of mourn- 
 ing over a dead one. 
 
 The tide and sculls of our waterman soon brought us to St. 
 Catherine's Docks. This is the newest of these vast artificial 
 harbours. It was crowded with ships, and surrounded with 
 massive and substantial warehouses. Here was a great ren- 
 dezvous of steamers, engaged in towing vessels on the river, 
 or in the transportation of passengers. Others of a larger 
 description, only inferior in size and elegance to those I had 
 been accustomed to see in my own country, lay moored in the 
 stream, and served to connect London by a rapid communica- 
 tion with the remote parts of the kingdom, as Dublin, Edin- 
 burgh, Aberdeen, and Inverness, or with the continental cities 
 of Rotterdam and Hamburgh. Farther up the river was seen 
 the fine front of the Custom-House, upon which the eye dwelt 
 with complacency after the unsightly edifices that had hitherto 
 
THE ItlVlB. 183 
 
 skirted the shore ; while beyond, opened in symmetrical series 
 the arches of London Bridge. Between St. Catherine's Dock 
 and the Custom-House, rose in quaint and jagged outline the 
 walls, bastions, and pinnacled turrets of the Tower of Lon- 
 don ; the Bastile of England in remote days, ere liberty had 
 yet strengthened herself in the land. 
 
 Erected by William the Conqueror, to secure the subjection 
 of the capital of the fair kingdom which he had won, the 
 Tower of London connects itself with every succeeding event 
 in the history of our race. In more barbarous times than those 
 in which we live, it has been the prison-house and the place 
 of execution of illustrious victims of tyranny, whose suffer- 
 ings the historian has recorded, and the poet hallowed in 
 undying verse. Here an arched passage under the wall once 
 gave admittance to the real criminals who had meditated 
 treason against the state, or those whom royal tyranny had 
 marked for its victims. They were conducted by the river, 
 with something of the secrecy which marked the proceedings 
 of the Inquisition in other countries; and the name of the 
 Traitor's Gate, that distinguished the dark passage through 
 which they entered, like the Bridge of Sighs in Venice, inti- 
 mated to the victim the nature of his fate. 
 
 Having landed at the Tower steps, we were received by 
 the Yeomen of the Guard, who permitted us to enter, and one 
 of whom, cheered on and rendered courteous by the recollec- 
 tion of his fees, charged himself with conducting us. These 
 yeomen, better "known as beef-eaters, were dressed in doublet 
 and bonnet, the picturesque dress of the days of Elizabeth. 
 They should have had slashed breeches, red hose, and rosettes 
 in their shoes, as is the case with those on duty in the palace 
 at levees and festivals ; but they were now in a species of un- 
 dress, and their plain blue trousers marked their connexion 
 with the age of utility. They were armed with heavy hal- 
 berds, and had the post of honour at the gate, though the pre- 
 
184 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 sence of the plainer dressed infantry soldier showed that there 
 was here a garrison of another kind, and that the defence of 
 this important arsenal and armoury from popular insurrectimi, 
 and of the state regalia from the hardihood of the swell mob, 
 is not wholly intrusted to these burly and well-fed veterans. 
 
 Within the courtyard, a number of objects were pointed out 
 to us that were rich in historical interest of the most romantic 
 and mournful character. There stood the Bloody Tower in 
 which the unfortunate young princes, Edward V. and his bro- 
 ther, are said to have been smothered by that Richard whom 
 Shakspeare has consigned to an immortality of detestation. 
 Within the walls of the adjoining Church of St. Peter repose 
 the headless trunks of countless victims of their own misdeeds, 
 or others' cruelty; bishops, nobles, queens of England; a 
 Somerset, a Dudley, a Monmouth, a Catharine Howard, and 
 the ill-fated Anna Boleyn. The Beauchamp Tower is shown 
 as the prison in which this last was confined, and whence she 
 penned her well-known epistle tD her brutal lord. Here too 
 was confined one whose fame was still purer, and her fate yet 
 more deplorable, — the Lady Jane Grey. 
 
 The Tower of London having long ceased to be formidable 
 as a fortress, is now best known as the depository of the 
 Ilegalia of England, and as one of the most extensive armories 
 in the world. There is one immense room, containing as we 
 were told, no fewer than two hundred thousand muskets. 
 They were most tastefully and conveniently arranged, and in 
 perfect order. There was much here to convey an idea of the 
 power of England, — of the strength which she could put forth. 
 If there was something to indicate what she could do, there 
 were also not a few objects to call to mind that which she 
 had done. On all sides were seen trophies of her victories by 
 land and sea ; and in a noble gallery called the Horse Armory, 
 wre arrayed in complete panoply, mounted, and lance in hand, 
 the efflgiea of many of her greatest warriors, clad in the very 
 
THE RIVEK. 185 
 
 armour which they had worn. If the sight of these vivid 
 images of the heroes of other times, and the memory of their 
 deeds which they recalled, awakened an admiration for the 
 age in which they lived, there were not wanting other objects 
 to qualify it, and turn the com[)arison in favour of our own. 
 Among the various weapons possessing historical interest, 
 which are here preserved, is the axe which severed the head 
 of Anna Boleyn. In that age, a queen of Englund suspected 
 of infidelity, or whose person had ceased to give pleasure to 
 her lord, was decapitated with as little ceremony as a barn- 
 yard fowl in ours. All that is changed ; and if an unfaithful 
 or unpalatable queen is to be despatched now, it is only by 
 the mortification of a public trial, and the contemptuous ex- 
 clusion from the pageant of a coronation. 
 
 The regalia of England is preserved in a very massive, 
 strong tower, without windows, and quite dark from without, 
 being lit by a powerful lamp, which exhibits the brilliancy 
 and value of the precious stones. Every thing is admirably 
 arranged for exhibition ; the imperial crown and other of the 
 most precious articles are turned round so as to be seen on all 
 sides, by means of an ingenious machinery, touched by the 
 ancient dame who exhibits them. Comfortable seats with 
 stuffed cushions are arranged for the sjjectators, whence they 
 may sit and listen to the studied oration of the exhibitor, and 
 gloat at their ease over the priceless treasure. After the 
 mournful associations of the Tower, there was something 
 wonderfully ludicrous in the discourse of the old show-wo- 
 man. It was the farce following upon the heels of the 
 tragedy. She has held the same station, and sung the same 
 song, from daylight to dark, during a score of years. It was 
 chanted in a sort of whining recitative, and some parts of it 
 ran as follows. " This is the golden font what baptizes hall 
 the princes and princesses of the royal family ; the hampuler, 
 or golden heagle as olds the oly hoil what hanoints the king 
 
186 THB AMERICAN IN ENGLAND . 
 
 hat the coronation ; the golden fountain what plays the wine 
 at the coronation ; the golden saltcellar of state in the form 
 of the White Tower, what stands at the king's table at the 
 coronation; Harmilla, hor bracelets; Curtana, the Sword of 
 Justice and hof Mercy ; the Golden Spoon." After an awful 
 pause to prepare for the climax, in a tone of increased earnest- 
 ness and importance she went on, — " This is the Himperial 
 Crown ; the pearl upon the top was pawned by Cromwell in 
 Olland for eighteen thousand pounds ; the red stone which you 
 see is an uncut ruby of hinesteemable valhew ; without the 
 ruby the crown is valued at one million of pounds." Here 
 ended the oration. It was recited in a studied strain, and by 
 the aid of the euphonious word coronation, so frequently re- 
 curring, had a most dancing, poetical sound. 
 
 I was so greatly amused, that as there happened to be 
 plenty of room, I remained to hear the same song sung over 
 again to the next party. When they were gone, I suggested 
 to my friend the very American idea of selling " the uncut 
 ruby of inestimable value" for the purpose of completing the 
 Tunnel. As I expected, the old woman was struck with 
 horror, opening her eyes and lifting her hands with a lack- 
 a-daisical expression which was irresistibly| ludicrous. Yet 
 she spoke not ; her ideas seemed to follow only one track ; 
 her daily meditations, and nightly musings, with the muttered 
 words that reveal the tenour of her dreams, all doubtless tell 
 only of the coronation and its regalia. 
 
 This, however, like all extreme cases, I found a little be- 
 yond the truth, and that there was another idea that vibrated 
 in her mind, and one other song that she was capable of sing- 
 ing to the tune of half a crown. Having a particular fondness 
 for putting people in a good-humour with their condition, I 
 could not help saying to her — " How happy you are, to be able 
 to see all these fine things for nothing every day I" To which 
 
OMNIBUS ADVBNTUBE3. 187 
 
 she replied with unexpected sprightliness, " An hi honly got 
 that for my pains, hi should be badly hoff !" 
 
 Though somewhat shocked at my extraordinary proposi- 
 tion, after all she was a woman ; and when I told her that I 
 was dying for a glass of water, tliough quite out of her line, 
 she kindly undertook to procure me some, and sent the yeoman 
 who accompanied us to her quarters in quest of it. When I 
 told her, as I took leave, that she had probably saved my life, 
 she quite forgave the previous atrocity of my proposition, al- 
 though, no doubt, she still looked upon me as a strange, un- 
 intelligible fellow, all of which would certainly have seemed 
 obvious and natural enough to her had «he but known that I 
 came from a country which, so far from possessing an imperial 
 crown, a golden orb, a sceptre and dove, had not even a 
 curtana, an armilla, or ampulla or golden eagle, and under- 
 took to transact the gravest affairs without so much as a 
 golden saltcellar of state. 
 
 / 
 
188 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 CHArTER XVII. 
 
 OMNIBUS ADVENTURES 
 
 St. Catharine's Dock. Paddington Omnibus. Party of Passengers. A Blockade. 
 Angel Inn. PentonviUe. Adelphi Theatre. 
 
 As we were in the neiglibourhood of Sfc. Catharine's Dock, tlie 
 occasion seemed favourable for going to see it, and, at the 
 same time, to take a look at the Hannibal. The St. Catharine's 
 Dock is the most recently constructed of all the docks of 
 London, having only been opened in 1828, in less than two 
 years from the time of its comm encement. It covers a space 
 of twenty-four acres in extent, about half of which forms the 
 artificial harbour in which the vessels float, and the rest ia 
 covered by the sheds and warehouses that surround it. Every 
 thing was massive and grand, in the construction of this vast 
 establishment. The walls of the dock were formed of hewn 
 stones of vast size, while the lofty edifices surrounding it 
 were supported upon cast-iron columns of enormous bulk. 
 The open space below formed a covered shed, under which 
 the cargoes discharged from the vessels adjoining are at once 
 placed under cover from the weather. Here were vessels 
 from all parts of the world ; and the cotton, potashes, and 
 turpentine of America, mingled their odours with hides from 
 South America, or the more savoury teas and spices of the 
 East. The buildings that enclose the dock not only contain 
 extensive warehouses for goods, but the offices connected 
 with the docks themselves, as well as a branch of the custom- 
 house : so that all the business connected with the lading or 
 discharging of a ship may be despatched upon the spot. It 
 struck me as furnishing a striking instance of the liberal way in 
 which establisliments are conducted here, to be told that the 
 
OMNIBUS ADVKNTURKSJ. 189 
 
 geci'etary of this institution, which is a joint-stock company, 
 established with a view to profit and the beneficial investment 
 of money, was himself a man of fortune, and, moreover, a city 
 knight, who has, in the buildings or the dock, a magnificent 
 suite of rooms, where he entertains the directors in a costly 
 style at the expense of the company, from which he receives 
 besides a most liberal salary. These docks are rendered 
 necessary in London by the great rise and fall of the tide, 
 which make it iraposible for vessels to float beside the banks 
 of the river, and as an only alternative to discharging and 
 lading with much expense, difficulty, and risk, in the crowded 
 anchorage in the middle of the stream. Some idea may be 
 formed of the extent and magnificence of these works, from 
 the circumstance of St. Catharine's Dock having cost, in the 
 purchase of the ground, the excavation, and constructions, no 
 less a sum than two millions sterling. 
 
 Finding our way through a variety of antique thoroughfares 
 to Eastcheap, Lombard-street, and Cornhill, we circumnavi- 
 gated the Exchange, and deposited ourselves safely in an 
 omnibus, to drive to the neighbourhood of Regent's Park. 
 The cad, who stood like a parrot on his perch at the side of 
 the door, was chattering a way acollection of set phrases in a 
 nasal style of cockney eloquence. He seemed to know our 
 object ere we were quite sure of it ourselves ; and, beckoning 
 in a coaxing and most winning way with his forefinger, very 
 politely invited us to get in. I had frequent occasion after- 
 ward to be amused with the very different measure of courtesy 
 which is meted out to the coming and departing passenger, 
 as well as the lofty and independent air which the cads about 
 the Exchange assume in wet weather, when each man, as he 
 enters, is informed that he cannot pass for less than a shilling, 
 instead of the customary sixpence, which is the common fare 
 from the Bank to Paddington. 
 
 The omnibus into which we entered was nearly full. Near the 
 
190 THE AMERICAN IN EN€tLAND. 
 
 door sat motionless and intrenched behind an unapproachable 
 dignity, apparently calculated to neutralize the condescension 
 which had induced her to enter so common a conveyance, a 
 thin, starved, prim old maid, who had very much the air of a 
 retired housekeeper, whom business connected with the in- 
 vestment of her spoils of office might have led to the in- 
 elegant precincts of Change-alley. There she sat, perpendi- 
 cularly upright, her sharp kness thrust out at right angles, 
 and pressed together with the fixed resolvedness of a con- 
 firmed and uncompromising celibataire. She was evidently 
 determined to move or make room for nobody, and getting 
 by her was very much like what one might fancy a journey 
 among chevaux-de-frise. Presently after came another 
 woman of a certain age, whose wasted face was excessively 
 rouged. She was most flauntingly dressed, having a long 
 pelerine cape depending on either side from her red silk cloak ; 
 her head was covered with a bonnet of not inferior preten- 
 sion to Jeanie's famed Lunardi which Burns's verse shows us 
 to have been so awfully desecrated. It was lined with lace, 
 decked with many-coloured and fluttering ribands, and had, on 
 the very summit, instead of the" ugly, creepin', blastit wonner" 
 which the poet apostrophizes, a single ambitious little feather, 
 that stood proudly on end, like a cock when it is about to 
 crow. The elegant lady, whose garments were redolent of 
 musk and iDille fleurs, stopped at the threshold, exclaiming, 
 ' Where am I to sit? I don't see how I'm to get by." The 
 stifi" lady would not budge an inch. The guard, having his 
 number of fourteen complete, closed the door, leaving the dif- 
 ficulty to settle itself, and for only answer crying to the driver 
 "All right!" The horses started, and the elegant lady came 
 with violence upon the stiff one, clawing her bonnet in the 
 eflPort to save herself. 1 felt sure that there was to be a fight, 
 and was grieved to the heart to find that there was to be no 
 scattering of false hair and ribands. A benevolent and fat 
 
OMNIBUS ADVENTURES. 191 
 
 citizen endeavoured to make himself thin for her sake, and 
 contrived to squeeze her in beside him. And so we set for- 
 ward. 
 
 We were not, however, doomed to proceed far on our way 
 thus happily. As we turned into Coleman-street, there was 
 already the beginning of one of those blockades or embarrass- 
 ments, of which I had already seen many in my short ram- 
 bles through the city. Our driver, instead of waiting where 
 he was, pressed forward, blocked the pass, and rendered the 
 entanglement complete. It was a confused mass of ponder- 
 ous carts and waggons, of immense ambulatory advertisers, 
 huge skeleton houses, covered with handbills, mimic steam- 
 boats with funnels mounted upon wheels, and pasted with 
 placards of packets from Dover and Southampton ; there were 
 hackney-coaches and cabs, donkey-chaises, and the cart of an 
 unfortunate cat's-meat merchant, whose unhappy coadjutors, 
 a couple of greasy dogs, terrified, and with their tails between 
 their legs, sought refuge from the crash and confusion by 
 crawling stealthily with their vehicle under the ambulatory 
 advertiser, in the hope of finding protection under its shadow. 
 Loud and angry voices began to be heard in curses and re- 
 crimination on every side ; there was likely to be a general 
 crash, succeeded by a fight. The stiff lady continued to look 
 dignified ; the dashing lady, terrified by the noise, the uproar 
 and the possibility of a catastrophe, began to sicken with ap- 
 prehension, and parti 3'-, perhaps, with her own perfumes. She 
 made known her condition to the benevolent citizen beside her, 
 and begged to be permitted to approach the door. The scene 
 approached its climax of confusion and absurdity, and I was 
 delighted. Just then a policeman stepped up and looked into 
 the matter. There was a stout gentleman immediately be- 
 fore us, whose hearty condition did not protect him from im- 
 patience : he sat bolt upright in a little gig, grasping his whip 
 with energy, and grating his teeth, as if he had courage suffici- 
 
192 THR AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 out to drive i]\9. little pony that drew him over every obstacle 
 that opposed his progress to his suburban box, where at a given 
 hour and minute, awaited his expecting rib, and the custom- 
 ary joint of mutton. The policeman, without asking leave of 
 the choleric citizen, very quietly took the pony by the head, 
 and drew pony, gig, and gentleman high and dry upon the 
 side-walk. He then caused our omnibus to advance to the 
 left, and made room for a clamorous drayman to pass us. 
 This was a stout fellow, in blue frock, breeches, and hob- 
 nailed shoes, with a well-fed, florid, beer-drinking ph5'siog- 
 nomy. He was not satisfied with simply getting by, but 
 paused a moment to vent his abuse against the omnibus. He 
 addressed the policeman in a somewhat threatening tone, 
 "Why ar'n't you made that homnibus keep back? Theys 
 want smashing ;" and, seeing me smile with delight at the 
 comic oddity of the scene, he shook his head angril}--, and whip 
 at the same time, as he presently added, "and them as rides 
 in urn as well !" As he passed across our stern, he gave a 
 practical illustration of his idea, by causing his heavy hind 
 wheel to come in contact with our projecting step, so as to 
 carry off a part of it, and give the whole vehicle a fearful 
 twitch, which brought the elegant lady's heart into her mouth, 
 and her luncheon with it, and even sent a tremour over the 
 rigid frame of her stiff antagonist. 
 
 The press now begun to diminish, and the possibility of 
 ultimate escape to dawn upon us. The opposite line of vehicles 
 got slowly into motion : the citizen, placed upon the shelf so 
 unceremoniously, came down from his dignified station, and 
 cracked his whip with renewed impatience. The dogs of the 
 cat's-meat merchant stole out from their retreat under the am- 
 bulatory advertiser, and gradually raised their tails with an 
 air of recovered importance ; and, we, following in our turn, 
 released ourselves at length dexiiM-ously from the press, and 
 went on our way rejoicing. 
 
OMNIBUS ADVENTURES. 193 
 
 Soon we came to Finsbury Square ; the scene of urban gran- 
 deur in past times, where merchants first conceived the idea 
 of living apart from their counting-houses ; now with the 
 growth of more fashionably ambitious views, abandoned to in- 
 ferior traders and dependants of commerce, for the fresher 
 glories of the West End. Presently we entered the City Road, 
 passing the turnpike gate, one of a complete series that sur- 
 rounds the capital, occasioning a delay and inconvenience to tra- 
 vellers which the stranger is apt to think might be advanta- 
 geously obviated without detriment to the excellent condition 
 of the roads, — at all events within the immediate precincts 
 of the metropolis — by some other species of taxation of less 
 inconvenient collection. 
 
 Passing the vast warehouses in which goods are deposited 
 for transportation by the canal for the interior, which reaches 
 the place by means of a tunnel excavated under the surface, 
 and without loss of valuable ground, we came at length to 
 the Angel Inn, situated at the fork of several roads leading to 
 the north of England, and well-nigh as great a thoroughfare 
 and halting-place as the Elephant and Castle, at the opposite 
 extremity, by which I had, a few d ays before, entered Lon- 
 don. Here the passing was prodigious, and the movement 
 and activity unbounded. 
 
 We halted here a few minutes to set down and take up pas- 
 sengers ; and so again on the New Road at King's Cross, and 
 Tottenham Corner. The time of stopping at each place was 
 three minutes; and persons were stationed on the spot to take 
 note of the time, and compel each driver to go on the moment 
 another had arrived to replace him. It was the object of each 
 to remain at the station as long as possible, so as to leave as 
 much space as might be between his predecessor and himself, 
 and increase the chances of finding passengers to pick up. 
 Hence the motive for driving through quick, to dislodge the 
 antecedent, which they accordingly do at a moat furious pace, 
 
194 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 to the infinite terror of whatever lies in the way. Hence, 
 alao, frequent contentions with each other, and quarrels with 
 the police. The papers were daily filled with accounts of 
 outrages committed by omnibus ruffians, as they were fami- 
 liarly and habitually called. With a view to abate this 
 nuisance, an act of Parliament had been passed, authorizing 
 the police to take into custody, without lodging a complaint, 
 the drivers of any public vehicles which might be found ob- 
 structing the king's highway. Soon after, I saw an account 
 of two drivers of omnibuses having been taken into custody 
 at the King's Cross, and fined forty shillings each under this 
 act. The next day there was a most amusing notice of the 
 manner in which the same two individuals contrived to break 
 the law, interfere with the public convenience, and yet to 
 avoid the infliction of the penalty. To do this, they actually 
 came upon the ground chained fast to their boxes, and secured 
 with padlocks ; and when the police attempted to arrest them 
 they laughed them to scorn, and shook their chains at them. 
 
 " Set me down at Maiden Lane !" said the stiff lady, with 
 an air of authority. '^ This is the very place," said the driver, 
 stopping his horses. She stumbled to the door, trampling 
 upon those in the way, and commenced expostulating with 
 the cad. " I can't get out in this here mud." The omnibus 
 remained quiet, and the worthy resident of Maiden Lane, 
 having fumbled and hunted her pocket, at length drew forth 
 a reluctant sixpence, and went off grumbling and nmttering, 
 casting scornful and vindictive glances at the departing 
 vehicle, as she surveyed her soiled shoes and draggled finery. 
 
 As we drove through this part of London, which is called 
 Pentonville, it began to improve greatly in appearance. The 
 smoke was much less dense, and the atmosphere of a less 
 artificial character. The houses were of a more recent con- 
 struction, and were frequently built in terraces, on a uniform 
 plan, standiDg back from the road, and having an enclosed and 
 
A MELOPBAME. 195 
 
 planted space of ground in front, for the recreation of the 
 i^^hbouring inmates. Here, too, were a number of public 
 buildings, though none of them possegsed any particular 
 beauty. There was one, however, of great pretension, which 
 particularly attracted my attention. This was the Church of 
 St. Pancras. It was in a classical taste, finely executed in 
 Portland stone. In its details it was very beautiful. The body 
 of the church was simple, well-proportioned, and elegant; 
 the portico, sustained upon six Ionic columns, was strikingly 
 beautiful : the projecting wings at the extremity, containing the 
 vestry-room and registry, were pleasing objects in themselves ; 
 and the steeple was, singly considered, graceful and very 
 elegant. I was not astonished to hear that the church itself 
 was imitated from an Athenian temple, as also the steeple, 
 which is copied from the Temple of the Winds, in the same 
 city. This church was a singular instance, how in architec- 
 ture a displeasing and monstrous whole may b(^roduced, by 
 the blending of discordant and inharmonious beauties. Each 
 part of this edifice, when separately considered, was beautiful, 
 yet the whole was offensive to the eye. n 
 
 That night I went to the Adelphi Theatre, to see a number 
 of small pieces in the style of the French vaudevilles. They 
 were no fewer than four in number. One of them was the 
 Rake and the Pupil, which was full of triumphant vice, and 
 the Butterfly's Ball, which was a tissue of folly and absurdity' 
 of the most consummate kind. There was also a melodrame, 
 entitled Grace Huntley, which I beheld with great interest, 
 because it was true to nature, and evidently a faithful picture 
 of manners ; possibly the mere dramatizing of something which 
 had actually occurred within the knowledge of the author of 
 the piece. The story is as follows : — 
 
 Grace Huntley is a sweet, interesting, sensitive girl, who 
 becomes attached to a vicious village hero, who has already 
 made soine progress in the career of vice. Her father, know- 
 
196 THE AMERICAN IN KN^LAND. 
 
 ing the character of Joseph Huntley, for such is his name, and 
 being devoted to his daughter, whose happiness is the sole 
 care of his heart, forbids her to think of him, or ever to see 
 him again. She promises to obey her father's injunctions; 
 but having previously granted a rendezvous to Joseph in her 
 own house at midnight, which is a very customary moral of 
 the English stage, she cannot forego her desire to see and em- 
 brace him for the last time. She opens the door as had been 
 concerted, and Joseph enters, introducing at the same time 
 one Sandy Smith, a notorious ruffian, with whom he had 
 planned the robbery of the father's property, consisting chiefly 
 in a casket of gold. After a very tender interview in the 
 dark, and the customary quantity of kissing and dalliance for 
 the benefit of the audience, Huntley takes his leave. She 
 closes the door and retires. The ruffian Smith now comes 
 forth, a specimen of the cold-blooded, heartless English thief, 
 with appropriate slang about lush, blunt, and the like. Hunt- 
 ley had given him information where the treasure was to be 
 found, a secret which he had previously extracted from his 
 confiding mistress. He forces the drawer, possesses himself 
 of the casket, and is about retiring, when the aged man, hear- 
 ing a noise, comes forth and seizes the thief as he is about 
 escaping through the window. They struggle a moment to- 
 gether, and Grace's father falls, stabbed to the heart by the 
 ruffian. Grace enters to see the consequences of her disobedi- 
 ence in admitting her lover, and of course the scene is suffi- 
 ciently deplorable. 
 
 There is now an interval of some years, and Grace, who is 
 represented as a model of female delicacy and virtue, and in 
 whose favour the sympathies are enlisted without any qualifi- 
 cation, appears as the wife of Huntley, the man who had 
 caused the murder of her doting father. They are the parents 
 of a lad who is now eight years old. Her property had been 
 wasted; she is in a wretched state of want; a neglected; 
 
A MELODBAMB. 197 
 
 care-worn, heart-broken, yet still fond and aflfectionate wo- 
 man. Her husband leaves her for days together to go forth 
 marauding ; he rejects the proffered kindness with which she 
 greets his return, and, not content with thus requiting her af- 
 fection to himself, he robs her of the attachment and allegiance 
 of her child and seduces him away to assist him in his career 
 of crime. 
 
 Sandy Smith, the associate villain, now appears again upon 
 the scene. They have a plot for the robbery of a neighbour- 
 ing squire. The child is necessary to its execution, he being 
 able, from his size, to pass through a grated window, and 
 open the door within for their admission. The mother, who 
 suspects the nature of the project, expostulates with her hus- 
 band about the vicious inclinations and waning affections of 
 her son, who is now more than half sedwccd from his duty to 
 her. He pushes her from him in disdain, swearing that she 
 shall yet have the satisfaction of seeing her son end his days 
 on the gallows. The rogues elude the mother's watchfulness ; 
 the child himself deceives her by appearing to be asleep, and 
 presently she finds that he is gone. She is now half distract- 
 ed with apprehension and horror. She rushes forth in the 
 midst of a violent storm. Directing her steps to a solitary 
 hut which is the lair of Smith, she discovers, through a cleft 
 in the door, Smith and Huntley concealing some plate and 
 other spoil, assisted by her child. The sight overpowers her, 
 and she rushes madly away. 
 
 There is now a violent struggle between her still fondly 
 lingering love for her husband, and her affection for her child. 
 The threat that she should see him hanging still rings in her 
 ears, and she already fancies it realized. The maternal feel- 
 ing prevails over all else. She goes to a justice of the peace, 
 and denounces her husband and his associate, claiming only 
 forgiveness for her child. Here is a trial, and a succession of 
 deplorable «cenes. Huntley ia found guilty on the testimony 
 
I9S THE AMSBICAN B^ SN^LANB. 
 
 of his wife, and the child liberated. She falls at the feet of 
 her husband, pleads her interest in her boy, and begs for his 
 forgiveness. He curses and spurns her. At length, however, 
 to relieve the strained sensibilities of the audience, he is made 
 to relent. There is a reconciliation. She tells him how she 
 will nurture and train to virtue the child of their affection, and 
 in the midst of a most pathetic parting, ventures to put fortti 
 the hope that they may yet meet and be happy, in that distant 
 land to which he was exiled. It would not have been poetical 
 to name that land, which was, of course, no other than Botany 
 Bay. 
 
 Such briefly was this piece, to which a perfectly natural 
 performance gave a striking character of reality, winding the 
 feelings up to a painful pitch of excitement. My readers can 
 judge for themselves both of the good taste and the moral ten- 
 dency of exhibitions such as these. Let us hope, that in imi- 
 tating a stage from which we borrow alike the pieces and 
 those who are to perform them, some pains may be taken to 
 exclude from our theatres such dramas as Grace Huntley, 
 which have no reference to any state of manners existing 
 among us ; which tend to familiarize the mind with crime, 
 and exhibit life in its most atrocious forms ; and which select 
 vice for their theme, instead of seeking inspirations in the 
 beauty and loveliness of virtue. 
 
8ITNDAY IN LONDON. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SUNDAY IN LONDON. 
 
 Church. Drive to Hyde Park. Apsley House. The Park. Equipagti. Air 
 of the Groups. Zoological Gardens. A Melancholy Monkey. 
 
 The next day, being Sunday, I went to church, directing my 
 Hteps towards the venerable temple of St. Martin's in the 
 Fields. Once a suburban parish church, it is now in one of 
 the densest quarters of London, with the town extending for 
 miles in every direction. The door was defended by fat 
 beadles, with laced hats and cloaks, and heavy maces, who 
 had the same occupation of keeping order among mischief- 
 making urchins as is assigned to the less richly-dressed and 
 portly heroes of the rattan, who perform the same office in 
 our country. A female pew-opener conducted me with great 
 civility to an unoccupied seat, having in mind the customary 
 sixpennyworth of gratification, which was to be the reward 
 of her courtesy. 
 
 There was very little difference in the services here, from 
 what I had been accustomed to in the Episcopal churches of 
 my own country. I noticed a little more variety in the 
 costume, occasioned by the caps and badges, which gave 
 evidence of university rank and honours. There was simply 
 the prayer for the weal of the state, in which '* Our sovereign 
 lord the King" occurred instead of " the President," which 
 the change in our government has rendered necessary for us 
 to substitute. The worship was performed with solemnity, 
 and the responses were perhaps more generally made by the 
 congregation than with us. I noticed that every one, in en- 
 tering the pew, hid his head in his hat for a moment, and was. 
 
200 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 or seemed to be, absorbed in a short preparatory prayer. 
 Perhaps there was somewhat more of a professional air in the 
 clergymen, as if what they were doing was in the way of 
 business, for which they were sufficiently paid, rather than a 
 work of predilection. The females were not so well dressed, 
 and the men perhaps better, than they would have been with 
 us. There was less intelligence in the general cast of coun- 
 tenance than would have been found probably in an American 
 congregation of the same number ; but there was a decidedly 
 greater prevailing air of health; an appearance of less thought 
 and care ; and altogether a more happy and cheerful aspect. 
 
 In the afternoon, one of my countrymen, residing in London, 
 came to drive me to Hyde Park. Passing down Pall Mall, 
 we came to St. James's Palace, which I had not yet seen. It 
 is of dingy brick, with Elizabethan windows irregularly scat- 
 tered about the front, and having a Gothic portal, flanked by 
 octagonal towers. It is alike destitute of grace, elegance, 
 and grandeur ; and perhaps it is impossible anywhere to see 
 a palace having less the air of one. In turning up St. James's- 
 street there were many club-rooms whose external appearance 
 was far more imposing. There were a few stray fashionables 
 lingering about the doors ; and some tall, fine-looking officers 
 of the Guards, whose companies were doubtless on duty at 
 the Palace. 
 
 Turning down Piccadilly, we found ourselves in the full 
 whirl of one of the greatest of the London thoroughfares. An 
 army of coaches and omnibuses were drawn up about a famous 
 booking office, which was pointed out to me as the noted 
 White Horse Cellar. Beyond were some fine mansions of the 
 rich and great, which looked out on as disagreeable a scene 
 of noise, confusion, and dust, as ever even Broadway could 
 lay claim to. In front, however, the Green Park was in 
 vjew, extending itself in a succession of groves and lawns, 
 
SUNDAY IN LONDON. 201 
 
 and tending, in some degree, to qualify what was disagree- 
 able in the situation. 
 
 Presently we reached the entrance to Hyde Park. Here, at 
 the comer, stands Apsley House, the town mansion of the 
 Duke of Wellington. It has a pediment and colonnade in 
 front, which, with other architectural ornaments, tend rather 
 to disfigure than embellish it ; as it is wanting in just pro- 
 portions, has a very stilted look, and is shaped very much 
 like a common dwelling. It is well placed, however, for the 
 residence of a distinguished individual, who has been so con- 
 spicuously before the public as the noble inmate. It over- 
 looks both the Green and Hyde Park, which are here entered 
 by imposing triumphal arches, and commands a view in the 
 latter of the colossal statue of Achilles, cast from cannon cap- 
 tured in the Peninsula, and dedicated to the duke and his 
 companions in arms by their countrywomen. 
 
 There is, however, an impervious obstacle to the illustrious 
 soldier's contemplating this tribute of national gratitude, in 
 the shape of bullet-proof blinds, which were afRxed to all the 
 windows of Apsley House, for the protection of the inmates 
 from popular violence, at the time when the public mind waa 
 agitated by the question of Parliamentary reform, of which the 
 iron duke was the strenuous opposer. The very residence 
 which the gratitude of his countrymen had either bestowed on 
 him or enabled him to purchase, then required to be fortified 
 to protect his life against their fury. It was a singular in- 
 stance of the durability and value of popular applause, that 
 the individual who had shed the first glory on the British arms 
 that they had known on land since the days of Marlborough, 
 after having been raised, by the universal acclamation of a 
 whole admiring nation, to the first place, as a subject, in rank, 
 honour, and public estimation, should, without the commission 
 of any crime, without any stretch of authority, and for the 
 
 simple maintenance of that right of opinion which the consti- 
 I 5 
 
^2 rrHE AMBEICAN IN SMC^LAND. 
 
 station permitted to him, find himself, after an interval of a 
 few years, so much the object of public rage and detestation, 
 as to need such a protection for his life in the sanctuary of his 
 fireside. 
 
 Hyde Park is not a very attractive place in itself, considered 
 as a public promenade. It is a naked plain, almost entirely 
 destitute of undulation and variety, and having few trees. 
 There are some fine mansions adjoining it, and the Serpentine, 
 with its bridges, produces a pleasing efiect ; but, on the whole, 
 it is greatly inferior both to St. James's and Regent's Park, 
 though a much more fashionable resort than either. 
 
 It was not the gay season in London, and I remembered 
 well the decision of the ladies' maids on the coach from 
 Gravesend, that there was absolutely nobody in town. Yet 
 here was an immense crowd of well-dressed people filling every 
 avenue, and thousands of fine equipages passing each other in 
 parallel files. Here, too, were well-mounted grooms, and 
 quantities of city worthies, clerks and apprentices doubtless, 
 scuffling and labouring hard with unfortunate hackneys, 
 which, if they were superior to those ** old hair trunks" which 
 it was the doom of the gay and sprightly Fanny to honour, 
 with her gentle pressure on our transatlantic shores, were yet 
 not so much as to conceal their connexion with the same ill- 
 starred fraternity, the public's horses, in all countries. 
 
 The scene, while it reminded me of similar ones in Madrid 
 Naples, Milan, Lima, or Havana, presented striking differ- 
 ences, growing out of national character. In all these places 
 the company seemed to be known to each other, and to have 
 come together full of life and spirits, and the determination to 
 be pleased. The nods of recognition, the graceful beckoning 
 of the fan or fingers, the brightening eye, and the passing word 
 of salutation, exchanged with warmth and kindness, all, as I 
 thought of them, brought vividly to my mind the charms of 
 the paseo. Hyde Park, on the contrary, though excelling in 
 
SUNDAT IN LONDON. 205 
 
 the magnificence of the equipages, the liveries, and the horses, 
 every thing of tlie sort I had ever seen, was, if one looked to 
 the countenances of the assistants, a scene of gloom and des- 
 pondency. The crowd seemed to have come forth not in search 
 of joyj but to parade its ennui. It was a collection of sullen 
 looks and care-worn countenances. None seemed to know 
 each other, and there was no gay interchange of sprightly re- 
 cognition. 
 
 Something of this may have been owing to the enormous 
 size of the capital, of which this was the gathering ; but more 
 to the prevailing absence of sociality, and to the distinction of 
 classes and the various shades of respectability, as numerous 
 as the individuals laying claim to it. Many, doubtless, who 
 were proud to claim each other as friends in the avenues of 
 the Exchange the day before, now skilled in all the arts of 
 cutting as jiractised in this country, of which it is the classic 
 land, contrived to be looking in some other direction as they 
 approached an acquaintance whose recognition might ruin 
 them, or else to stare at him with a vacant, unconscious gaze. 
 Perhaps the most striking cause of the gloom and solemnity of 
 this scene of amusement might be found, after all, in the 
 musing and contemplative character of our race, and might 
 equally be noticed on similar occasions in our country. We 
 have little of that gushing flow of spirits and exuberant desire 
 to be pleased wliich characterize so many other people. We 
 are grave, solemn, and reflective in the midst of our sports, 
 and are apt to carry with us to scenes of festivity that 
 melancholy and musing mood which is the prevailing habit 
 of our minds. 
 
 Leaving this glittering yet disheartening scene, we drove to 
 the Regent's Park. The press had been so great at the place 
 we had just left, that it seemed as though all the world were 
 there assembled. Yet here it was scarce inferior. Crowds 
 of carriages and led horses surrounded the Zoological Gardens, 
 
204 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 in attendance upon those who were engaged in the favourite 
 Sunday amusement of London, — a visit to the wild beasts. 
 In the gay season it is perhaps the most fashionable resort of 
 the metropolis; and I have seen, at the same time, dukes, 
 and marquises, a prime minister, a lord high chancellor, and 
 distinguished leaders of the opposition, deposing their gran- 
 deurs, their cares of state, and brooding intrigues and aspira- 
 tions after office, to gather quietly round, and witness peace- 
 ably together the manoeuvres of the cameleopard and the rhi- 
 noceros, or the bathing of the elephant. 
 
 This is an institution which had its origin in that spirit of 
 association which has achieved so much in England. At the 
 end of a very few years it already exceeds what royal munifi- 
 cence has only been able to accomplish in a succession of 
 reigns in a neighbouring capital. The payment of a trifling 
 subscription, by many people, has led to the creation of a 
 beautiful garden, of a tasteful and pleasing arrangement, such 
 as is peculiar to this country. Specimens of rare, curious, 
 and beautiful animals have been collected from every corner 
 of the world, and the study of the structure, character, and 
 habits of what is most interesting in the works of the Creator, 
 is thus rendered easy and entertaining to the young. The ar- 
 rangement of the species is made with great care and order, 
 and many of the animals are lodged in rustic cottages, in the 
 style of the country from which they came. Here, too, are 
 strange exotic plants ; so that a walk through this garden is 
 in some measure like a rapid journey over the world. 
 
 In order to connect two portions of the garden lying on 
 different sides of the public road, without the inconvenience 
 of traversing it, there is a beautiful tunnel, which carries the 
 footway tastefully beneath it. Every thing, in short, about 
 this establishment, which might be repeated in the neighbour- 
 hood of any of our large cities, if the taste and public spirit 
 were not wanting, is of a finished and perfect character. 
 
SUNDAY IN LONDON. 205 
 
 Among all the animals here collected, the monkeys were, 
 as usual, the decided favourites, in attracting both little 
 children and those who were full grown. So far as my own 
 tastes go, they are to me the most disgusting of animals. I 
 cannot understand the pleasure which is found in such pets as 
 these, and should as soon think of making a companion of a 
 monkey, as of the individual who could be gratified by such 
 an association. To say nothing of its odour, which should be 
 enough to satisfy ordinary sensibility, I cannot endure it for 
 its resemblance to man. When I look at one, and watch its 
 movements, so like our own, the way in which it uses its 
 fingers, evinces affection, or nurses its young, and, above all, 
 when I study its countenance, in which intelligence and in- 
 quiry may be detected, or pleasure and pain, expressing them- 
 selves by smiles and frowns, just as in the human face divine, 
 it almost seems to me as if nature had been seized with an 
 access of ridicule and satire, and humbled itself to the taste 
 of caricaturing humanity. May not this be meant to incul- 
 cate a lesson of humility, by showing us, that with all our 
 god-like qualities, we are, after all, but a better order of 
 monkeys ? 
 
 There was here one large baboon which more particularly 
 attracted my attention, and which I looked on with even 
 more horror than that general aversion I have described. He 
 was a solitary and fierce monkey, shut up by himself, quite 
 alone, and devoured by ennui. When I first discovered him 
 he was sitting musing, and with a most misanthropic Rous- 
 seau- By ronic expression, in a corner of his cell. If it had 
 been lawful for a baboon to quote poetry, I am sure he would 
 have broken forth into the exclamation— 
 
 *« Forced from home and all its treasures, Afric's coast I left forlorn. 
 To increase a stranger's treasures — on the raging billows borne. 
 Men from England bought and sold me, paid my price in paltry gold. 
 But though slave they have enrolled me, minds are never to be sold." 
 
 I do not think, though, he could have had the heart to utter 
 
205 THE AMERICAN IN SN6LAND.' 
 
 this, lest it should have been the means of getting: up a mon- 
 key mania, and putting this unfortunate country to the ex- 
 pense of another twenty millions' worth of generosity, for the 
 emancipation of monkeys. He would, perhaps, rather have 
 been satisfied to exclaim — 
 
 " It must be so; tvhy else have 1 this sense 
 Of more than monkey charms and exceUence ? 
 Why else to walk on two so oft essayed. 
 And why this ardent passion for a maid." 
 
 This not being permitted, he was content to look it, which 
 he did eveiy line and letter, together with other things unut- 
 terable. Presently he began to kick the straw about, like a 
 miserable bachelor lying on his back, and tossing the clothes 
 about for the want of more agreeable pastime. Then he 
 seemed to come to a little rose, picked the straw off his per- 
 son, ran his fingers through his hair, and made his toilet. Now 
 he seemed better pleased with himself, and looked along his 
 figure admiringly. A wooden ball had been given to him to 
 beguile the tedium of existence. This he now threw against 
 the side of his house, and caught, and threw again ; having a 
 very quiet little game of fives to himself. But the effort to 
 struggle against his cares and be gay was evidently an abor- 
 tive one ; he presently relapsed into melancholy, and the Sa- 
 tanic mood came over him again. Catching the idle toy that 
 was given to him in the place of creature comforts, he bit it 
 with rage and vexation, then threw it down, tore his hair 
 with both hands, and actually looked round as if for some- 
 thing to commit suicide. I feel morally sure that if at that 
 moment I had handed him my open penknife, he would have 
 carried it at once to his jugular. His rage seemed to over- 
 power him ; and he sank helpless in the corner, covering 
 himself witli straw to shut out a hateful world and its imper- 
 tinent observation. Such was the gnawing misanthropy of 
 the melancholy monkey. No one could resist the hardship of 
 
NOVEMBER IN LONDON. 20? 
 
 his case, to be thus condemued without crime to solitary con- 
 finement, or, in comparing the recluse with those so little his 
 superiors in " charms and excellence," who hovered about as 
 spectators, walking upright, with wives upon their arms, 
 could venture to deny, that with reason on his side, 
 
 " Poor pug might plead, and caU his gods unkind, 
 Till set on end, and married to his mind." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 NOVEMBER IN LONDON. 
 
 Rainy Streets. Adventures in the Mud. A cat's-meat Merchant. Umbrellas. 
 Labour Exchange. Conversation of Workies. Robert Owen. 
 
 Hitherto the weather had been very tine, not only since my 
 arrival in London, but also aince our approach to the Eng- 
 lish coast, nearly a fortnight before. The wind had generally 
 blown from the south, bringing with it a mild and balmy air, 
 which, compared most advantageously with what was doubt- 
 less the prevailing temperature at the time in the lower 
 latitude of my own country. The atmosphere, though 
 not cloudy, was yet not clear; an imperceptible film, 
 which I afterwards found to be the attendant of even 
 the brightest English day, was spread in a gauze-like 
 veil over the heavens. Through it the dim sun struggled ; 
 and as he performed a small section of a circle far in the 
 southern horizon for his prescribed course, looked down with 
 tempered and languid gaze upon the landscape. Though there 
 was a dulness in the climate as it thus exhibited itself, yet 
 there was something also calm, melancholy, and contemplative 
 in it, which harmonized with my feelings. I had almost begun 
 to doubt in the existence of those showers and fogs with which 
 
208 THE AMERICAN IN ENG^LAND. 
 
 London was associated in my imagination. Now, however, 
 the scene was to be changed ; a new week was to introduce a 
 new system ; and London was to exhibit itself in all the hor- 
 rors of its November attire. 
 
 On Monday morning it was only by the aid of a light that I 
 could contrive to make my toilet ; and on descending to the 
 coffee-room, the like aid was not unwelcome in discussing 
 breakfast and the newspaper. If there were much that was 
 gloomy and sadinthe scene within doors, the spectacle from the 
 windows was most deplorable. The streets ran down with 
 rain and mud, through which, clogged, coated, and oversha- 
 dowed by his umbrella, stepped forth the Englishman. Just 
 before the door stood a dirt-cart, to which were harnessed 
 two wet and disconsolate-looking horses. Some men, dressed 
 in tarpaulin clothes, were shovelling the mud into their cart, 
 where it floated, a stagnant pool. Hard by was a coal-wag- 
 gon, with its attendant colliers, engaged in carrying the fuel 
 in bags to a poulterer's opposite. The rain had made some 
 impression upon their blackened faces, leaving them streaked 
 in the same unseemly way as the statues on the front of St. 
 Paul's, and giving a singular and demoniac expression to their 
 countenances and glaring eyes. There were quantities of wo- 
 men clattering over the pavement in iron clogs, and not a few 
 thieves and adventurers in greasy black coats, from which the 
 rain turned without effect, save where a rent left the skin 
 visible. 
 
 The spectacle without was gloomy enough ; the coffee-room 
 was still and solemn as some death-bed scene, and the news- 
 papers served only to carry out the impression of despair which 
 was stamped on every thing. One of the first paragraphs 
 that struck my eye was a list of suicides. There were no 
 fewer than three, in which the weapon had been a razor, and 
 two of the self-murderers were women. Having remained in 
 the coffee-room some hours, gazing in utter hopelessness in the 
 
NOVEMBER IN LONDON. 209 
 
 fire, — for my own room proving to smoke badly, I had been 
 obliged to discontinue the fire there, — I at length grew weary, 
 and determined to go out in search of distraction, and in the 
 hope of killing a little time. So enveloping myself in my 
 cloak, I went forth and strolled along the colonnade. 
 
 Every thing wore an air of inexpressible gloom. The houses 
 of unpainted brick were half hidden at their topmost stories 
 by the canopy of smoke, fog, and rain which overhung the 
 scene. It did not rain with that earnestness and energy com- 
 mon in our climate, which conveys the idea of a thing to be 
 done, as a matter of business, and despatched with business- 
 like rapidity, but in a deliberate, cold-blooded way, as if it 
 might continue on thus for ever, without exhausting its capa- 
 cities to curse and to annoy. An eternal dripping fell from 
 every object : and the Royal Perambulating Advertiser, which 
 happened to pass like a moving house, stuck round with 
 newly-printed placards, shed big inky tears, and seemed about 
 to dissolve with grief. The enormous waggons, piled high 
 with merchandise, were covered with huge tarpaulins, and the 
 horses that drew them, as well as the drivers, were decked in 
 garments of the same gloomy and desperate-looking material. 
 Every man, except myself, was the bearer of an umbrella. — 
 The women, too, dashed through the mud with a courage 
 above their sex ; holding in one hand the umbrella, in the other 
 their shortened garments, they strode fearlessly on, transfer- 
 ring the mud from one leg to the other, until all was black- 
 ness. Nor was it permitted to rest satisfied with such a share 
 of mud as came within the compass of one's own gleanings, 
 aided by such little acquisitions, as were to be received from 
 the tread of others. The coaches and cabs, rushing through 
 the black rivers with which each street ran down, scattered it 
 from their wheels like rays from so many miry suns, whose bu- 
 siness it was to give out mud and misery, instead of vivifying 
 heat and light. The ruflBanly drivers of these seemed to have 
 
210 THE AMERICAN IN ENdLANDJ 
 
 a thorough contempt for all pedestrians ; and instead of ad- 
 miring them for the courage and hardihood with which they 
 trudged on, sought purposely to assist in draggling them, with 
 a view to discourage the inelegant practice of walking. — 
 There was a strange confusion of substances. Every thing 
 seemed to lose its identity, dissolve, and become mingled to- 
 gether ; the atmosphere was a mixture of rain, smoke, exhala- 
 tions, and mud, set in motion by so many wheels ; the maca- 
 damized streets, mixed into a sickening decoction, formed 
 vast quagmires, dead and despondent seas, in which one 
 would expect to flounder, and sink, and expire, ignobly suflPo- 
 cated, with the prospect of being shovelled into a scrapings 
 cart, and there terminating one's career " unwept, unhonoured, 
 and unsung." 
 
 To walk in the mud is a bad thing at any rate ; and when 
 one is wholly unaccustomed to it, it becomes awful indeed- 
 It creates a feeling of melancholy dissatisfation, not unlike 
 what a hitherto honourable man might feel the first time that 
 misfortune, the pressure of circumstances, and his own weak- 
 ness, had led him to humble himself to the commission of a 
 mean action. Thus reasoning, I ploughed my way through it 
 like the rest. From having seen the carriages keep to the 
 left in my drive from Gravesend, I fancied that the rule must 
 be the same for footmen. But I got on very badly with it. 
 At each instant I was justled and knocked out of my course ; 
 and a great Welsh milk-woman, with red face, fat cheeks, and 
 a figure running out everywhere into redundancies, as I was 
 feasting my eyes on the spectacle of such prodigal charms, 
 well nigh stove a hole through my shoulder with the sharp 
 comer of her milk-yoke. The gallantry which would not 
 expire under so unkind a cut must be glowing indeed. 
 
 Misfortunes never come singly. I was traversing the open 
 space leading to Charing Cross; just behind me came a female 
 render of old joints and broken meat, with her merchandise 
 
NOVEMBER IN LONDON. 211 
 
 ia a wheelbarrow. I stopped a moment to gaze at the lion 
 over the Duke of Northumberland's palace, which, in the 
 misty atmosphere, loomed singularly, and stood forth in 
 strong relief, with a strange air of reality. The wheelbarrow 
 struck against my heel, making me step quickly ahead, stoop- 
 ing at the same time from the pain. This brought my cloak 
 on the ground ; and the wheelbarrow continuing to pursue me? 
 fairly took me prisoner. The little dog harnessed beneath the 
 barrow, though sheltered in some sort from the weather, was 
 yet wet, soiled, and looking in all respects uncomfortable, 
 and impatient to finish the day's work and get home. He 
 struggled hard, barked and snarled at my heels, and seemed 
 indisposed to recede. The woman, seeing that there was no 
 progress to be made in that direction with such an obstacle in 
 the way, moderated the ardour of her canine auxiliary, drew 
 back her barrow, and released me, following her course, not 
 however without a slight bestowal of Billingsgate, of which 
 she shot off a broadside as she ranged past me. 
 
 Henceforth my fears were only for wkeelbarrows. I looked 
 round, saw none, and was safe. I turned again to gaze at 
 the lion, when I was aroused by a rush of wheels and a 
 shout. Two omnibuses were descending the hill, side by 
 side, and at a rattling pace; a flight of inferior vehicles 
 hovered on their flanks, and it was quite evident that I was 
 likely to be hemmed in. Turning to escape in the opposite 
 direction, I saw that there too I was equally cut off. There 
 was a brewer's cart, drawn by enormous horses, which was 
 close upon me, and a magnificent equipage, the panels of 
 which were completely covered with armorial bearings ; pre- 
 sently the blockade was rendered complete by a swift cab 
 coming directly at me whose wo-begone horse was trotting 
 fiercely, as if it were his last race, and he had leave to die 
 and escape from all his troubles when he had won it. How 
 to escape, and where to go, was now the qtaestion. I looked 
 
212 THE AMERICAN fN ENe^LAND. 
 
 « - 
 
 in vain in search of any outlet, and came to the conclusion 
 that there was nothing left for me but to choose my death. 
 
 To die by an omnibus or a cab were to die ingloriously ; 
 the newspapers could have told a story of the sort any day 
 the last week. It would be far more honourable to be 
 trampled into the mud by the aristocratic heels of the pranc- 
 ing steeds, which were already close upon me. As a last and 
 only chance, I determined, upon philosophic principles, to 
 trust to the magnanimity of the largest animal I could see. I 
 flung myself under the neck of the brewer's horse, which was 
 too noble to step on me ; encouraged by this reception, I kept 
 beside his head, making a tower of strength of him, and thus 
 I managed to reach an open place and escape to the side- 
 walk alive. It was reasonable enough that I should recollect 
 the proud equipage which had been so near crushing me. I 
 saw it afterward in Hyde Park on a Sunday, and it was 
 pointed out to me as belonging to a noted brewer ; so that, 
 after all, my choice of deaths had not been so various as I 
 imagined. 
 
 I slunk home, nervous, covered with mud, and miserable, 
 feeling very much as a dog might be supposed to do, which, 
 being badly hung by some malicious urchins, contrives to 
 worry himself loose, and escapes home with the rope about 
 his neck, and looking very dejecting. I determined, if I lived 
 to see another day, that I would become, what I never yet 
 had been, the possessor of an umbrella, and substitute an 
 upper benjamin for the embarrassing folds of my Spanish capa. 
 In my professional pursuits the use of an umbrella was pre- 
 posterous ; and in the climate of my own country it rains so 
 seldom, that to a man of leisure, having no business avoca- 
 tion to call him inauspiciously into the open air, the umbrella 
 is also a useless and disagreeable encumberance. But in 
 England the case is otherwise ; and a man without an um- 
 brella is as incomplete as a man without a nose. 
 
NOVEMBER IN LONDON. 213 
 
 tiaving seen in a morning paper an advertisement of Robert 
 Owen, convoking a meeting that day for the purpose of taking 
 into consideratioti the condition of the working classes, and 
 reducing the length of the working- day to six hours, for 
 which full wages were to be given, I determined to drive to 
 the place of meeting, which was the National Equitable 
 Labour Exchange. This is an establishment which had ita 
 origin in the imagination of Mr. Owen ; the object of it being 
 to enable the producer of any article, a pair of shoes for in- 
 stance, to exchange it for some other article which he does 
 not produce, but wants for his own use ; by this means re- 
 lieving the workman from the tyranny of the master, and 
 securing him a fair participation in the fruits of his own 
 labour. If he do not want to take any article in return for 
 what he deposits, he receives its value in bills of the asso- 
 ciation, which I imagine are not very current beyond its own 
 walls. 
 
 At the entrance to the hall I found a collection of books for 
 sale, and, on turning to look at their titles, I found that in- 
 stead of works on political or domestic economy, and cal- 
 culated to promote industry and thrift, such, for instance, as 
 the admirable writings of Dr. Franklin, which I look upon ti9 
 containing the most wholesome nutriment that can be offered 
 to the minds of the poor, they were entirely of an atheistical 
 character, and directed against the Christian religion ; among 
 them Paine's Age of Reason occupied a conspicuous place ; 
 and there were many tracts of Mr. Owen, and other modern 
 imitators of the arch apostle of infidelity. If I were already 
 indisposed to believe in the feasibility of Mr. Owen's system, 
 this doubt was not a little increased by finding myself met, 
 at the very threshold, by that which went to remove the 
 comforts, the consolations, and the restramts of a religion 
 which is the poor man's best friend. 
 
 The edifice, appropriated to the Labour Exchange during 
 
214 THE AjaEBICAN IN EN&LAND. 
 
 the week, and to lectures and anti-religious orgies on the 
 Sabbath, was as singular in its construction as in its uses. It 
 was of oblong form, having a gallery running completely 
 around it, and a skylight roof above. At one extremity of the 
 gallery was the place of the speakers, who stand against the 
 railing, in sight of those ranged in the galleries, on either 
 hand, or in the court below. Here was a table with books, 
 round which the reporters of the London papers were assem-' 
 bled, to note the proceedings and take down the speeches. 
 
 There was an immense crowd of the unwashed already as- 
 sembled ; their faces, hands, and bodily conformation, indica- 
 ting their peculiar line of labour. Some were in their holi- 
 day clothes; others had evidently just escaped from their 
 benches, having their aprons twisted up and stuck through 
 the drawing-string. The air was redolent of gin, beer, lea- 
 ther, and the various commodities with which they were re- 
 spectively conversant. Their conversation was of trades'- 
 unions, initiation, of nobs and dungs, that is, recusant indivi- 
 duals of their fraternities who refused to affiliate. They 
 spoke very angrily of the Times newspaper, as being against 
 the working-men, and the partisan of rich persecution. 
 
 I was not a little amused with the conversation of a little 
 shoemaker who sat near me. He was very short, owing to 
 his legs being out of all proportion to his body, and not hav- 
 ing been properly developed, from the sedentary nature of his 
 occupation, and that of his ancestors through many genera- 
 tions. He had on a white corded jacket, rather darkened by 
 his trade, breeches, and an imperfectly-filled pair of worsted 
 stockings. He was pock-marked, and a scald, which had 
 rendered him blear-eyed and scarified one side of his face, 
 showed how neglected had been his childhood, and added to 
 the general expression of vulgaritj', recklessness, and vice, 
 which was stamped upon his countenance. To complete the 
 catalogue of his personal charms, there was about him a very 
 
 i 
 
NOVEMBER IN LONDON. 215 
 
 unpleasant flavour of shoemaker's wax and leather, which 
 made him less endurable even than the highly perfumed in- 
 mate of the omnibus. His speech, which he presently ad- 
 dressed to a neighbouring friend, was conformable. " I say, 
 Bill, if we works four hours a day, I don't see why it ar'nt is 
 much is they as her right to expect. We had a famous 
 meetin last night ; we filiated up to ninety. If we could 
 unite with the tailors we'd be main powerful ; but the darn 
 stitchlouses are too ristocratic ; they're worse, all hollow, nor 
 the Ouse o' Lords. They think as they're better nor hus; 
 and undertakes to turn their noses up at a cobbler." 
 
 Here Mr. Owen made his appearance, and was received 
 with unbounded applause ; my worthy little cobbling orator 
 being among the most vociferous. He was a rather tall, big- 
 boned man, well enough dressed, but somewhat slouching in 
 liis appearance. His face was singularly ill-formed ; the fore- 
 head receding very suddenly, and the whole contour of the 
 head indicating a deficiency of both animal and moral quali- 
 ties. His chin was sharp and protruding ; and the style as 
 well as the expression of his face reminded me most strikingly 
 of an unusal ugly monkey, which I had seen the day before in 
 the Zoological Garden. His arms were piled with bundles of 
 pamphlets, to which he was about to refer, many of them 
 written by himself, and a huge folio report of a committee of 
 the House of Commons on the condition of the working classes. 
 I had heard of the venerable appearance of the sage and the 
 philanthropist of Lanark; but as he now entered the room, 
 groaning under this immense weight of learning, and filled 
 with self-complacency, and tickled at the reception which the 
 tatterdemalions gave him, that caused him to grin and show 
 his teeth most absurdly, he presented a most ludicrous spec- 
 tacle. 
 
 His style of eloquence was not of a very ambitious kind. 
 It consisted of all the startling truisms which have been 
 
216 THR AMKRIClN IN EN3LANP. 
 
 uttered at various times on the same subject by cleverer men 
 than Mr. Owen, and which he now strung together with as 
 litfele art as might be, his language being vulgar and slovenly, 
 and his pronunciation bad. When he fancied he had made a 
 good hit, he would stop for applause ; and when it came, 
 grin back a responsive recognition. Sometimes there seemed 
 to be a difference of opinion between him and his audience as 
 to the expediency of cheering. Once, when a few cried 
 "Hear!" one near me hissed, as if to stop the interruption, 
 another beside him corrected him by saying, " Don't hiss, he 
 is waiting for it." I think this anecdote decidedly illustrative 
 of the man ; and am convinced, from what I saw of him, not 
 having previously heard this foible ascribed to him, that an 
 overweening vanity is at the bottom of all his extravagances, 
 and that not being capable of attracting the attention of men 
 of sense and education, he is content to surround himself with 
 the vulgar rabble, and be, at an easy rate, a great man among 
 them, receiving their applause in return for his stupid ravings. 
 In the course of his address he was saying, what is indeed 
 very true, that the power was all wielded by the rich in Eng- 
 land " But," he continued, " we will take it away from them." 
 Here he was interrupted by overpowering applause. When 
 he could be heard he added — " but peaceably, not forcibly.''. 
 This qualifying sentiment was not so well received. I noticed, 
 however, one starved, thin-legged conspirator, apparently 
 wholly unfitted for the stern arbitration of club-law, who 
 seemed mightily to approve of the peaceful mode of redress, 
 and the march of mind system ; for he cried "hear! hear!" at 
 the top of his squeaking voice. When Owen at length took 
 up the great parliamentary folio, and began to relate, with a 
 most complacent smirk, how he and the member of Oldham, 
 one Mr. Fielden, had been closeted together three days, at the 
 residence of the said member in the country, studying the con- 
 tents of this folio, I came away, dreading the possibility of his 
 
ROBERT OWEN. 117 
 
 inflicting a synopsis, which in his hands would have been so 
 much more cruel than the book itself. 
 
 I was happy on getting into the open air to find that my 
 pockets had not been levied on, so that there was nothing to 
 interfere with my meditations concerning the cosmopolite 
 philanthropist. If he be, indeed, the friend of the labouring 
 people, and not wholly the slave of his own vanity, it is yet 
 certain that he has done them no good. As a general rule, I 
 think it may be admitted, that the man who has mismanaged 
 his own affairs is not fit to charge himself with those of other 
 people. This individual has failed notoriously in all his un- 
 dertakings. Having succeeded by marriage to the property 
 of a valuable and most flourishing manufacturing establish- 
 ment in Scotland, he has contrived to squander the patrimony 
 of his children, and deprived of their birthright, their home, 
 and, haply, even their religion, sent them forth to endure ever- 
 privation in the uncivilized wilds of his western Utopia, while 
 he has adopted as the object of his affection and paternal soli- 
 citude the filthier million of this overgrown metropolis. Still 
 we must admit — such sacrifices as tliese irresistibly convey 
 the idea — that he is both benevolent and philanthropic, though 
 on too large a scale to be appreciated by every one. I must 
 claim to be among the number of the incredulous ; and I must 
 confess that a benevolent and philanthropic fool always seems 
 more dangerous to me than a roguish one. A roguish fool 
 may steal, and allow himself to be quickly caught and shut 
 up ; but the other, being left at large, may lead astray others yet 
 simpler than himself, and, actuated perhaps by a ridiculous 
 vanity, get credit for good qualities which he does not possess* 
 interfering with the labours of industry, and creating a real 
 evil without any alternative of good. 
 
 There can be no doubt, indeed, that the poor are insufficiently 
 paid in England. That in the presence of a development 
 
 K 
 
216 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 far exceeding whatever the world has hitherto seen, the pre* 
 fits of it are concentrated in the hands of a few, while they who 
 mainly contribute to it by their labour are left to languish in 
 destitution of what mere animal wants require. Yet one hears 
 of nothing but the property of the country, and the necessity 
 of having it represented, and giving it proper influence, at the 
 very time when it is regulating and governing exclusively for 
 its own interests, and crushing the many with a despotism 
 unknown in countries which are stigmatized as despotic, and 
 especially so stigmatized by Englishmen, — a despotism which 
 starves. While property has for its mercenary cham- 
 pions the genius and learning of the country, the claims of 
 labour are unrepresented and unsustained ; its cause, instead 
 of being sujtported by the high, the gifted, the intelligent of 
 the land, is abandoned to the advocacy of rogues like Cobbett, 
 and idiots such as Owen. 
 
ISLINGTON. 21 Jl 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ISLINGTON. 
 
 Liston. Remove to Islington. Scenes from Window. Suburban Ramble. 
 Habits of Retired Citizens. Life of Seclusion. Subjects for Emigration. 
 
 In the evening of the day I had attended Mr. Owen's exhibi- 
 tion, I went to see a much better actor at Madame Vestris's 
 theatre, being no other than Liston. Though I found him evi- 
 dently in the decline of his health and powers, yet I was not 
 at all disappointed in the high expectations I had formed of 
 him. He is of moderate height, with a rather dropsical-look- 
 ing body, and the air of a man sinking under dissipation. He 
 appeared, indeed, to be half drunk. It was in his part how- 
 ever, to be so ; and he had either made a sacrifice to his pro- 
 fession in order to give effect to the piece, or else it was 
 anotlier proof of his excellent acting. There were, indeed, 
 an irresistible drollery and perfect air of nature about him. 
 
 His acting appeared to me as Talma's did, — so easy tliat 
 any one might have done it without effort. This is, however, 
 in efforts of every sort, one of the greatest proofs of merit. 
 The company of this theatre struck me as being much the 
 best I had seen in London ; there were a perfection, indeed, 
 and unity in the company, and in the general effect of the 
 acting, which not a little reminded me of the minor thea- 
 tres of Paris. As for Liston, though the sonrce of so much 
 and such immoderate mirth to others, he is said to be of a 
 very melancholy temperament himself, and only to be at all 
 happy and humorous when treading the stage. His appear- 
 ance sufficiently justifies this opinion ; and his moody, wo- 
 begone physiognomy gives effect to his drollery, and to tfre 
 oddly-uttered jokes, at which he only does not laugh. 
 
220 THE AMERICAN IN ENOLAND. 
 
 Though I had been beguiled of my ennui and greatly 
 amused by Listen, I retired, when the play was over_, to my 
 lodgings, as sad as himself. I had brought with me to Lon- 
 don a chronic weakness of the eyes, contracted by winter 
 cruising in the Mediterranean, which, instead of improving 
 there, increased from day to day, prevented me from escap- 
 ing from the weariness of unoccupied time by reading, and 
 converted the amusement of the theatre, which alone re- 
 mained for my evenings, into a means of adding to my torture. 
 
 I was the bearer of abundant letters ; but I knew that 
 most of those to whom they were addressed were absent 
 from town, and, in the little courage which I felt to en- 
 counter perfect strangers, I was willing to fancy they were 
 all so, and failed altogether to inquire. If the reader feel 
 any sympathy for me, I may as well relieve him by jumping 
 to the conclusion of it, and telling him how, a year later 
 than the period of which I write, I was entirely cured of 
 my malady by INIr. Alexander, the celebrated London oculist ; 
 who, after hearing a statement of my case, and after a mo- 
 ment's inspection, sent me away with a prescription, which, 
 at the end of a few months, restored me to the complete use 
 of the most valuable sense with which divinity has endowed 
 us, and left me with a feeling of personal gratitude to the 
 skilful operator himself that will not easily be effaced. I do 
 not mention this out of any pleasure which I take in relating 
 what only concerns me individually; but because the reader 
 might not otherwise be able to comprehend the peculiarity of 
 my situation, and the circumstances personal to myself which 
 made England so much sadder to me on this, my first visit, 
 than it usually is to my countrymen, and which, at the end 
 of a very few weeks, drove me from it in search of more con- 
 genial scenes. With the use of my eyes, and amusing books 
 to read, I could have passed a winter not merely in London, 
 but in Lapland. 
 
ISLINGTON. 221 
 
 My eyes had become so much irritated since my arrival in 
 London, froln the prevalence of smoke, and perhaps also from 
 too frequent attendance at the theatre, that I began to feel 
 the necessity of changing my mode of life forthwith. I chanced 
 to have living in Islington an esteemed relative, who had 
 been the friend and Mentor of my boyish days. Being in deli- 
 cate health, and finding in the course of much journeying, that 
 the climate of England agreed with him better than any other, 
 which is in fact a very common remark among Americans, he 
 had retired to this suburb of London to pass his days peace- 
 fully among his books. This being in a high situation to the 
 north of the town, with an open country on the side from which 
 the wind usually blows, is less canopied with smoke than any 
 other quarter. My friend fancied, on this account, that it 
 would be more suitable to me until my eyes should restore 
 themselves, and prevailed upon me to accompany him to his 
 house. Here I passed a few days most agreeably, as well as 
 beneficially to my sight ; eschewing theatres, listening to the 
 perusal of a newspaper or of some entertaining book, instead 
 of endeavouring to read myself, dozing quietly on a sofa 
 wheeled to the fire, or engaging in delightful conversation 
 about the half-forgotten events of other times. 
 
 Occasionally, when the weather was fine, and the wind not 
 high, which was a combination of somewhat rare occurrence, 
 we took a walk to the neighbouring village of Highgate or 
 Holloway. Tn this last place are some beautifully-designed 
 almshouses, originally founded by the famous Whittington, and 
 standing near the spot where, having paused on his return to 
 his native country in despair of finding employment in London, 
 of which he had come in search, he heard the merry chime of 
 St. Mary's bells, and fancied he could trace out the encouraging 
 sounds, " Turn again, Whittington — twice Lord Mayor of 
 London !" He took heart, turned back, and his name after- 
 ward mingled honourably in the annals of the city. 
 
2|2 THE AMERICAN IN EN6^LAND. 
 
 These villages of Highgate and HoUoway will soon become 
 incorporated, like Islington, with the all-absorbing metropolis. 
 It is in this way that the increase of the population of London 
 has been so extraordinary in late years, and not entirely by 
 jiositive development and augmentation. London was and 
 still is surrounded by many considerable towns. By the mu- 
 tual growth of it and of them they gradually run into each 
 other ; the towns or villages losing their distinctive limits and 
 cliaracter, and being counted thenceforth part of London, to 
 whose population their own is thus suddenly added. 
 
 Wlien, on the contrary, as Was more common, the wind 
 blew high, the sky lowered, and, intermixed with mist and 
 smoke, came down to hang its dark pall low over every ob- 
 ject, investing all things with its gloom, and tinging whatever 
 it touched with the hue of despondency, and when, moreover, 
 the rain pattered relentlessly, then, as an only resource, I re- 
 clined in dreamy torpor and forgetfulness, lost in melancholy 
 musings, or gazing the live-long day half unconsciously from 
 the window at the frequent omnibuses, — the Sun, — oh sad 
 misnomer ! What but his absence could have called to mind 
 the joyous god of day ? — the Times — the Champion — meaning, 
 doubtless, Dutch Sam, or the undaunted Jem "Ward of pugi- 
 listic memory. These rushed by with the merry sound of 
 well- blown bugles, the only notes of cheerfulness which came 
 encouragingly on the ear. Countless in number, too, were 
 the stage-coaches that whirled by, conveying daily their thou- 
 sands of passengers to Liverpool, Manchester, and all the 
 counties of the north. What toppling masses of trunks, bas- 
 kets, and bandboxes were there suspended behind, at the sides, 
 and piled high over all ! And what a cargo, too, of live lum- 
 ber interspersed among these, — men, dogs, parrots, and wo- 
 men, — how strangely muffled in waterproof Mclntoshes, 
 closes, fhawls, and comforters; and yet how thoroughly 
 
ISLINGTON. 223 
 
 soaked were the biped voyagers! How the horses reeked, 
 and how instinct was every thing with mud and misery ! 
 
 In these my rambles over Islington and its pretty neigh- 
 bourhood, I made some remarks for myself, and was assisted 
 to others by the maturer observation of my friend, concerning 
 the habits and manners of the inhabitants of this region, which 
 excited my curiosity and tended to amuse me. It seems that 
 it is inhabited almost entirely by retired trades-people, a 
 general phrase, which includes almost every one in this coun- 
 try below the dignity of a gentleman, or man living without 
 occupation on his means, and on the labours of his ancestors. 
 People engaged in business here have a sufficiently general 
 practice, which it were well that we imitated in America, of 
 realizing their property the moment they have secured a com- 
 petence, and, investing it in some safe and convenient way, 
 so as to yield them a moderate interest, retiring either to the 
 country or to some suburban situation, where they may com- 
 pass the luxury of a garden-spot, there to pass the evening of 
 their days in tranquillity. In the neighbourhood of Islington 
 there are many pretty and modest villas thus inhabited, and 
 in the town itself frequent ranges of dwellings, called places 
 or terraces, which are constructed on a uniform design, fre- 
 quently standing back from the road, and having verandas in 
 front, with a common garden laid out for the resort of the in- 
 mates. These houses, though mostly unpainted and of a 
 gloomy hue without, gave evidence within of great neatness 
 and comfort. The windows were tastefully curtained, having 
 blinds to obstruct the gaze of passers in the street, or else the 
 same effect more tastefully produced by means of shrubs and 
 flowers, amid which hung the frequent prison-house of laric or 
 canary. 
 
 Some of these retired citizens keep lumbering carriages, 
 covered with heavy armorial bearings. Here there are no 
 equipages with simple ciphers, or without arms of some sort. 
 
224 THB AMERICAN IN ENeLAND. 
 
 "which are generally largely and glaringly painted, and con- 
 gpicuoue in the inverse ratio of the established dignity of the 
 aspirant. One of the earliest uses that is made of wealth is 
 to pay a handsome fee to a herald, for the contrivance of an 
 elegant coat of arms. 
 
 There is one thing, however, in which they evince more 
 sense than we do, that is, in never setting up a coach until 
 their fortune entitles them to do so. Each graduates his ex- 
 penses nicely to his means ; if they do not justify the extra- 
 Tagance of a pair, he contents himself with an enormous fly, 
 a species of close carriage, drawn by one horse, and of which 
 two horses would stand in awe over our rugged pavements. 
 Others rejoice) in the posssesion of a huge phseton, capable of 
 containg the entire househould, which is drawn by a single 
 family horse, a meek- spirited jade, which jogs along with a 
 mill-horse perseverance — an air of motiveless and heartless 
 dulness, in happy accordance with the heavy, stupid looks of 
 the group which he drags after him. Here and there anti- 
 quated cobs, which in their younger days had carried their 
 impatient masters to the scene of money-making in a twink- 
 ling, now crept over the ground calmly, contrasting singularly 
 with the rapid movements of the young traders, the sons pro- 
 bably of the former in many instances, who, starting in life 
 on their own account, seemed to be full of motive, and as 
 greedy to gain time as the others were anxious to consume it. 
 
 Those, indeed, who had achieved the competence which 
 had been the cherished object of their hopes, seemed to be far 
 more miserable than those who were in pursuit of it. The 
 retired trader was ever ready to pull up his equally willing 
 •teed, which had learned, by long [practice, to adapt itself 
 to the habits of its master, to talk with some equally time- 
 ridden worthy of trade and the stocks. Others lounged at 
 the comers, or before their doors, speaking in monosyllables 
 or speaking not at all, and gazing with vacant and envious 
 
isLiNexoN. 225 
 
 stare upon the passing whirl of the busier population. It was 
 difficult, indeed, to imagine people more evidently at loss and 
 out of tune. The retirement and competence which they had 
 sighed for through the earlier years of a busy life, seemed to 
 have become, by robbing them of their occupation, the source 
 of their misery. 
 
 Perhaps the morning with its freshness of sensations, physi- 
 cal and moral, agreeably ministered to by breakfast, and the 
 newspaper, which circulated from house to house at the cheap 
 rate of a shilling the week, was the season in their existence 
 freest from corroding ennui, and coming nearest to a negative 
 something that might be called happiness. The long interval 
 to dinner and the joint, though broken by luncheon and a 
 walk, perchance made in unconscious habit to the crowded 
 region of the City, or in bad weather passed in vacant gaze 
 from the window, was yet, doubtless, to them, one of awful 
 duration. Dinner was succeeded by another fatal pause, 
 until the timely tea resisted in good season the growing 
 drowsiness. The rubber of whist, eked out by dummie, if 
 the smallness of the family circle made his assistance indis- 
 pensable, gave the mercy- stroke to the day, which finished 
 with them as it began, with a war against time, implacably 
 carried on. Such, as far as I could learn or observe for my- 
 self, is the daily picture of the life of the retired citizen of 
 London. 
 
 Where there is social intercourse, with familiar and uncere- 
 monious visits, the stranger can at once discover it in a pass- 
 ing glance. Here, from day to day, and though the live-long 
 night, the most watchful eye could detect no traces of con- 
 gregation. Here were no rush of carriages, no clang of 
 knockers, no slamming doors, no lively hum of chattering 
 voices, no spirit-stirring violin. The musical entertainments 
 ^^ the neighbourhood were confined to an occasional " Rule 
 
 Britannia" — "God save the King" — ^*Buy a Broom" — or 
 K 5 
 
23i6t THB AMERICAN IN SNC^LAND. 
 
 *^ Yankee Doodle," dolorously ground forth by monkey-aided 
 Savoyards, from hand-organ or hurdy-gurdy. 
 
 Occasionally, as the patriotic bosom of gouty bachelor or 
 shrivelled old maid was touched by the strains which have 
 power to enkindle enthusiasm, even in the most torpid English 
 feelings, a window might be seen to open at either side of the 
 street, and a swollen or skin-dried hand emerge to throw a 
 penny's worth of gratification to the industrious grinder. 
 Once, when I saw such a coincidence, I could not help think- 
 ing that, with this identity of tastes, had the habits of society 
 and the existence of social intercourse favoured the coming 
 together of this sympathetic pair, they might in earlier years 
 have rushed into each other's arms, and, joining their means 
 an4 their establishments, furnished each other with comfort 
 and joy. When the hurdy-gurdy ceased to charm, a piano 
 might be heard responding, in well-struck measure, with 
 " Paddy Carey," or " All the blue bonnets are over the bor- 
 der." Other sounds of joy there were none, and stillness and 
 a X)lacid calm reigned here for ever. 
 
 But perhaps it would be wrong to say that the whole year 
 revolves for them in joyless and unbroken monotony. One 
 should at least except the annual visit to the theatre, to see 
 the King and Queen at the play, when is presented the singu- 
 lar spectacle of an immense house, crowded with living mas- 
 ses from pit to gallery, with two people looking at the enter- 
 tainment, and all the rest looking at them. It is on this oc- 
 casion, more than any other, that they nourish that sentiment 
 of loyalty which is natural to every Engliali bosom, and which 
 evmcmg itself in love and veveration to one individual, is yet, 
 though perhaps unknown to him who feels it, only a concen- 
 tration of patriotism, an ardent love of country^ fixing itself on 
 the man who represents its sovereignty, and who is, as it were, 
 only England itself personified. When an Englishman listens 
 with rapture to that noble anthem, — ** God save the King," it 
 
ISLINGTOBT, 227 
 
 is not attachment to a bloated profligate such as George IV., 
 that animates and lifts him to the clouds, but rather the thought 
 of England, with her greatness and her triumphs, which 
 kindles the glow at his heart. 
 
 It is on occasions sach as these, then, that the retired citi- 
 zen indulges in an enthusiasm which is a contradiction to the 
 whole tenour of his daily life. In a country where castes and 
 classes of society occupy more of men's thoughts, and modify 
 in a greater degree their manners, than in any other, he feels 
 himself elevated into unwonted dignity and self-estimation at 
 finding himself admitted to sit at the same entertainment, and, 
 as it were, to feel towards a real and live king that sense of 
 equality, which, though habitually extinguished within him, 
 is yet the most ardent of man's aspirations. Here, too, he is 
 wound up to a pitch of ecstasy the most grandly ludicrous 
 that can be conceived, at the spectacle of a queen drinking a 
 cup of tea just like a common person. 
 
 This is the citizens' jubilee, — this their annual holyday, — 
 purchased by the endurance of a year made up of monotonous 
 days, succeeded by nights yet more monotonous. They would 
 die, us they doubtless often do, of apathy, were it not for the 
 abiding excitement kept alive by the perpetual dread of being 
 robbed and murdered, and the interest derived from their 
 nightly precautions against such a consummation ; from bolt- 
 ing and chaining the doors, seeing the window-bells set in a 
 condition to sound should a thief attempt to break in and 
 steal, and taking good care that the rattle is in readiness by 
 the bedside, to spring suddenly, if necessary, at the window, 
 and bring the assistance of the watch. Such a life must ne- 
 cessarily produce singular and unbounded eccentricity of cha- 
 racter, and would, if studied, furnish the oddest and most va- 
 ried subjects to the dramatist. It begets, in many cases, dis- 
 ease both of mind and body, inducing every species of hypo- 
 chondria, and leading to the swallowing of the thousand pills 
 
S28 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 and philtres which are the prevailing taste of the land, until 
 at length the fear of dying drives them to self-slaughter. 
 
 It has often been said that a great city is a great solitude* 
 Of none is this so entirely true as in London ; for the dread of 
 inter/jourse and the fear of contamination must act either up- 
 wards or downwards in the case of every one, where the grades 
 and classes are as numerous as the individuals, each of whom 
 comes armed to the conflict with his seperate and peculiar 
 pretensions. The evils that result from this life of isolation are 
 unbounded. It must not only be productive of much misery, 
 but of vice also. The young women, returning from the 
 boarding-school with such lessons of virtue as they have 
 learned there, pass their time in a corroding solitude, the prey 
 of that ill-nature which develops itself in families that are 
 strangers to the check of social intercourse and observation. 
 Meantime they continue their daily walks to the circulating 
 library, and come home charged with novels and romances, 
 which, instead of strengthening and giving a healthy tone to 
 the mind, fill it with artificial notions and preposterous views 
 of life, which there is no real observation of the world to dis- 
 prove and counteract, thus delivering it up to false and fanci- 
 ful day-dreams and unreal reveries. With little opportunity, 
 jn the well-nigh total absence of social intercourse, of forming 
 a virtuous and well-judged attachment, they must be content, 
 in general, to take such husbands as. Providence may send 
 them ; and without the enlightening and guiding advantage of 
 public opinion, which in society aflPords to each pretender his 
 proper position, must be content to choose at hazard, with the 
 obvious risk of falling into the hands of adventurers and 
 sharpers. 
 
 Hence the frequency of those runaway matches, which, con- 
 tracted in opposition to the will of parents, discreet to choose 
 and sedulous of the happiness of a daughter, almost invariably 
 become the prelude to a life of misery and wretchedness. 
 
ISLINGTON. 229 
 
 Hence, too, in constitutions where the yearning for matrimony 
 IS ungovernably fervid, the disposition to fall in love, with 
 some comely and well-fed servant, be he buttler, groom, or 
 coachman, and the deplorable frequency of propesterous mis- 
 alliances, and often of something worse. The liberty of 
 manners which here permits the solitary and unwatched ram- 
 bles of females of a tender age, furnishes facility for vice 
 which is not always neglected. Moreover, where there is no 
 social intercourse, there can be nothing of that social restraint, 
 and of public opinion omnipotently acting upon all within its 
 reach. I do not know that the case is any better in instances 
 where all these dangers are triumphantly avoided, and soli- 
 tary females, surviving their parents and all who were near to 
 them, grow old in unsullied maidenhood, drying up and wither- 
 ing, mere useless and unproductive vines and barren fig-trees. 
 Many such victims of the want of social intercourse 
 and intermixture, were to be found in Islington. Un- 
 fortunate spinsters, whose minds were crowded with a 
 thousand corroding cares, and assailed each night by ground- 
 less terrors of robbery and violence. For the most part thoy 
 seemed to be devoted to religion, going regularly, tippeted and 
 muffed, with their prayer-books, whenever the bells of St. 
 Mary's chimed for prayers or sermon. To console themselves 
 for their caraal bereavement, they seemed, one and all, to have 
 made themselves, as th^ nuns in Spain say — esposas de Chriata. 
 As they could not, however, pray all the time, they contrived 
 to amuse themselves with several pets, such as singing -birds, 
 cats, dogs, and parrots. One of them opposite us, passed 
 much of her time at the window, watching for the arrival of the 
 cat's-meat man, and stoking a huge tabby. She seemed to 
 find much comfort in this ; yet, after all, a cat is an insufficient 
 substitute for a husband. "Women," says the learned Dr. 
 Lieber, in illustrating the bad consequences of the frequent 
 and prolonged mourning in use in America, as it tends to keep 
 
230 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 our young ladies out of society, which he looks upon as a spe- 
 cies of matrimonial market, — ^' Women," says the learned 
 cyclopedist, " are born to be married." Agreeing with him, 
 as I do most perfectly, it is on this ground that I object en- 
 tirely to this life of separation, and the whole system of re- 
 tired citizenship in Islington, prayer-books and tabby-cats 
 included. 
 
 Of all the various classes of people in England, these re- 
 tired citizens are they who would gain most by emigration to 
 America. Any of those who lively obscurely and humbly in 
 Islington, might lead a life of elegance and luxury on the no- 
 ble banks of the Hudson. There, in a healthful climate, 
 strangers to all noxious exhalations, and in the presence of 
 whatever is beautiful or grand in natural scenery, one of 
 these men might, for the sura of five thousand pounds, become 
 possessor of an estate of three or four hundred acres, capable, 
 by tolerable cultivation, of rendering an interest of six or 
 eight per cent, upon the purchase-money. 
 
 Fixing upon one of the thousand unimproved sites that are 
 scattered up and down the lordly stream, he might build, from 
 marble or granite, (luarried on the river itself, such a villa as 
 he pleased. Instead of planting for the benefit of his descend- 
 ants, he might cut down and fashion to his mind the dense 
 groves of oak, sycamore, maple, locust, hemlock, and hickory, 
 as they have been tastefully intermingled by the hand of na- 
 ture ; and might indulge, to his heart's content, in those 
 sweetly rural tastes that are so entirely English. Or, if he 
 were indiiferent to the exercise of the creative power, he 
 might purchase a place already habitable, and having a com- 
 fortable mansion on it, and well-improved grounds, capable 
 of yielding at once the same interest, for six or seven thou- 
 sand pounds. 
 
 Here he might live as secluded as in London itself. If he 
 had a taste for stocks, he might go to Wall-street, though v 
 
ISLINGTON. 231 
 
 hundred miles off, in eight hours, and get double the interest 
 for his money that he could in London, and on better security 
 too, the security of a solvent government and of unexhausted 
 resources. He could always get the Times a month old, and 
 might keep on railing against radicalism, which here would 
 no longer have power to threaten his property, or terrify him 
 with the dread of convulsions to come. Here, too, he might 
 indulge for ever in the privilege dear to the heart of every 
 middling Englishman, of grumbling at every thing he saw, of 
 damning the country he was in, and praising the fast-anchored 
 isle he had left behind him. He might go on indulging in the 
 most injurious comparisons, deploring the insecurity of a 
 country which had no national debt to keep it together, and 
 no taxation, no immense subsidies to kings, kings' brothers, 
 and unnumbered pensioners, " all, look you, to be spent in the 
 country^ which you know makes the money circulate, and 
 keeps the working-people busy , do you see." He might curse 
 our transparent heavens, our deep blue «ky, our far-extended 
 vistas, with nobly swelling mountains, remotely distant, yet 
 so palpably seen as seemingly to be within the reach of the 
 hand, and sigh for congenial mists, and rains, and unbroken 
 levels. Here, too, he would lose his sense of inferiority, his 
 dear distinction of classes and castes, the pleasure which a 
 pariah may feel in licking the dust which a bramin has just 
 honoured with his tread, in the admiration of the nobly great' 
 in the rapture of being permitted to look full in the face a Sir 
 .John, or even a My Lord, in a committee-room or at a cattle- 
 show, and all the manifold enjoyments of toad-eating and of 
 sycophancy. 
 
 But what would be the prospects of his children ? They 
 would grow up in a country which offers an unbounded field 
 for energy and talent. There he might provide for a hundred 
 children as for one, though there be no place or office to be 
 begged, and no favours to be asked, save from one's own ex^ 
 
232 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 ertions. If the father himself were unfitted to associate with 
 the gentlemen of equal means around him, unaccustomed as 
 they are to superiors, and haters of servile vulgarity, not so 
 his children. By sending them from home, and secluding 
 them from his own society, they would grow up with inde- 
 pendence and manliness of thought, and dignified elevation of 
 character. They would learn to speak good English, to feel 
 nobly, and to act accordingly ; and finally enter upon life 
 with a sense of independence, claiming for itself no distinction, 
 yet conscious of no inferiority, a proud feeling of equality, and 
 a republican simplicity of manners, which in England is only 
 the attribute of one class, and that class the highest. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DRIVE TO BRIGHTON. 
 
 Dart Coach. Scene at Starting. Suburbs. Benevolent Institutions. Rural 
 Tastes of Englishmen. Scenes at the Roadside. Fellow-Travellers. Their 
 Conversation. Brighton. Church. Albion Hotel. 
 
 I HAD been a fortnight in London, when a countryman of my 
 own, whom I was already prepared to like, and for whom I 
 afterward contracted a warm friendship, which I still con- 
 tinue to cherish, proposed to me, as a change of scene, a short 
 trip to Brighton, in which he offered to accompany me. 
 Having gladly accepted this offer, I joined him at his house in 
 Regent's Park, and we went together, at the appointed hour, 
 to the coach-ofRce in Oxford-street. The coach was the Dart. 
 It was hung very low, on the new safety plan, as it is called, 
 the bottom of the body being not more than a couple of feet 
 from the ground, and the cicrle of which one would describe 
 an arc in falling, in the ewnt of a somerset, being of course 
 proportionably small. 
 
PRIVK TO BRIGHTON. 133 
 
 Though the weather was fine, and the drive only of six 
 hours, my companion, who knew the climate, decided that it 
 would be most safe for us to go inside. This is a disagreeable 
 alternative, as the interior of the English coaches offers very 
 scanty room for four persons of even ordinary size, and, being 
 perfectly closed everywhere, furnishes the traveller with 
 barely such imperfect vistas of the country he passes through, 
 as may be rapidly caught from a narrow window on either 
 side. 
 
 A pair of worn-out horses, driven by a second-rate sort of 
 coachman, conveyed us from Oxford-street to the grand 
 starting-place, Piccadilly. Here we took up the rest of our 
 passengers and luggage. The make-shift horses and coach- 
 man were dismissed with ignominy ; four active grooms led 
 out each a mettled hunter, disabled for the chase, yet still full 
 of spirit and energy. The coachman, a portly personage^ well 
 clad, with muffled neck, well -brushed hat, a heavy coat 
 hanging over his arm, and his whip held with the air of au 
 adept, and who had, in so slight degree, the appearance of 
 having been bom for something better, stood calmly superin- 
 tending the labours of the hostlers, while the guard, having 
 carefully attended to the disposition of the luggage, and of all 
 tlie various packets and parcels to be delivered on the road, 
 or at the end of tbe journey, now ascended to his station at 
 the back of the coach, and taking up his bugle, blew forth a 
 sweet and animating blast. 
 
 The merry sounds, even more than the favourite spectacle 
 presented by the starting of a coach, quickly drew together a 
 vast crowd of the idle of the neighbourhood, or such as hap- 
 pened to pass that way. There were soldiers from the palace, 
 grooms in well-polished suits of fustian, proud and disdainful 
 servants in their master's livery, and beggars, who were 
 humble in their own. Here, too, were eloquent Irishmen 
 offering for sale, in words of soft persuasion, the newspapers 
 
234 THE AMERICAN IN ENG^LAND. 
 
 of the day, the map of tlui road to Brighton, the Comic Amiual, 
 and quantities of absurdly ludicrous caricatures. 
 
 I exchanged a piece of silver for a handful of these. They 
 wanted the masterly drawing and extravagant oddity of 
 Cruikshank, and the grace, spirit, ingenuity, and gentleman- 
 like observance of good taste and propriety that characterize 
 the inimitable political sketches of H. B., in which the wit 
 and satire of many paragraphs are conveyed far more vividly 
 and distinctly to the mind, by a single glance of the eye ; yet 
 they had still a certain cleverness of their own, and a fund of 
 coarse, broad humour, which is characteristic of the land. 
 The tatterdemalion crew around us, captivated, like the rest» 
 by the soft strains of the musician, suspended for a moment 
 their vociferation, and an old groom, who was smoking, with 
 his hands in his pockets, beside the coach, was so lulled into 
 forgetfulness, that he fairly suffered his pipe to go out. When 
 the tune was over, however, he betrayed no vexation, but 
 turning to his next neighbour to light it, said, " Dom it, 
 Bobbie, that be a game chap, he blows like a good un." 
 
 And now the coachman was on his box ; the ribands were 
 ia his hand and nicely adjusted ; a flirt of these and a single 
 crack of the whip set us in motion ; each groom, releasing the 
 horse which he had been holding, remained in possession of 
 the blanket, twitched suddenly from the back of the bounding 
 animal. Onward we sped to Charing Cross, and hence at a 
 rapid rate towards Westminster Bridge. As we passed the 
 Horse Guards, where two soldiers of the Blues, in casque and 
 and cuirass, sat as sentinels, motionless, on their coal-black 
 chargers, our guard struck up " God save the King." I ad- 
 mire this noble national anthem, and I sympathize with the 
 feeling which it awakens in the bosom of every honest 
 Englishman, — a feeling, not, as one might fancy, of servile 
 attachment to the person of any individual, but made up 
 wholly of pride and patriotism, an ardent love of country 
 
DRIVE TO BRIGHTON. 235 
 
 stimulated by the recollection of her Howes, her CoUing- 
 woods, and lier Nelsons, and whatever of greatness and of 
 glory Old England has achieved. 
 
 We made our way without accident, and with admirable 
 address, through the thronged thoroughfare, to the Elephant 
 and Castle, and so onward, traversing a suburb which pro- 
 mised to be interminable. The rauges of houses, ceasing oc- 
 casionally to be continuous, were built in rows and terraces, 
 with attention to architectural effect. These were interspersed 
 at frequent interval* with stately and extensive edifices, de- 
 voted to the uses of charity, and having for object the solace 
 and alleviation of some one of the thousand ills that flesh is 
 heir to. Many of these had their origin in the spirit of associ- 
 ation, impelled by a pervading and active humanity; more 
 were pointed out to me as having been founded by individuals 
 of enormous fortune, the result of their own efforts, and of a 
 life of frugal and persevering industry. 
 
 It were an odious task to in(|uire in how many cases these 
 noble institutions sprang from the promptings of a pure and 
 unsullied benevolence ; in how many from the vanity of im- 
 mortalizing a hitherto unhonoured name. Even the vanity of 
 being remembered through all ages, as the benefactor of our 
 fellow-men, is not in itself, and still more so when compared 
 with the thousand vanities which impel our efforts to live in 
 the recollection of those who come after us, as a fit subject for 
 commendation ? 
 
 At any rate, whatever be the actuating motives to benevo- 
 volence, in no country is it so abounding as in England. — 
 "Wherever the eye is turned, it rests upon lordly edifices conse- 
 crated to the alleviation of misery. This is not the place to 
 inquire in how great a degree this mass of misery to be allevi- 
 ated, may have had its origin in the unequal distribution of 
 the fruits of labour, and in a compunctious wish for retribu- 
 tion, urging the rich to render back to the poor something of 
 
236 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 that whereof an exclusive and oppressive legislation, acting 
 ever in the interests of property, may have robbed them. It 
 is sufficient here to call to mind the fact, that there has been 
 only one Howard, and that he was an Englishman. 
 
 If there were much to indicate the attention of the rich to 
 the comfort of the miserable, there was, of course, much to 
 show that they were not unmindful of their own. On reach- 
 ing the more open country, we passed at each instant some 
 pretty villa of a retired citizen, the fit abode of a happy and 
 contented competence. If there be any thing that I covet for 
 my countrymen, it is the sweetly rural tastes of the children 
 of this land, and their rooted love of retirement from the city's 
 din to the seclusion of groves and gardens. If, as I believe, 
 the tendency of a life passed amid crowds, confusion, the inti- 
 mate and indiscriminate contact with the eager and mammon- 
 seeking throng that congregate in cities, and all the manifold 
 horrors that are to be found in smoke, dirt, omnibuses, and 
 disgustful surroundings, is to uproot the natural affections and 
 to corrupt the heart, so, on the contrary, do I believe that an 
 existence gently gliding away amid the scenes of nature, and 
 the calm and tranquil occupations of some rural abode, must 
 oppositely and equally contribute to develop whatever is gene- 
 rous within us, and to give elevation and purity to the senti- 
 ments, and dignity to the character. 
 
 It is, therefore, that I would wish to see cherished among 
 us, tastes calculated to develop virtues so essentially republi- 
 can. And if I were now to seek for generous and honourable 
 feelings in my country, it would not be among the crowds who 
 congregate in cities about gilded liberty-caps, to shout their 
 anathemas against the sovereignty of the people, but rather 
 among our honest and native-born yeomanry, at once culti- 
 vators and proprietors of the soil, who constitute the best 
 safeguard of the sacred rights of property and American 
 liberty. 
 
DRIVE TO BRIGHTON. 237 
 
 The country over which we passed was nearly without 
 mountains, or any thing that rose even to the dignity of a hill. 
 Its character of monotony was, however, relieved by gentle 
 undulations, along which the road wound meandering, and by 
 the beautifying effect of art, everywhere visible in the effort 
 to produce what was either useful or agreeable. The labour 
 of cultivation was everywhere carried on with neatness as 
 well as care. The fields were all enclosed with hedges, inter- 
 spersed with trees, and where the plough had been used, the 
 furrows were drawn with the nicest exactness. The farm- 
 houses were antiquated stone buildings, with an air of com- 
 fort, and some show of taste ; flowers were blooming in the 
 windows; there were evergreens and shrubbery about the 
 doors, to banish the idea of winter ; fruit trees were trained 
 against the walls, and the gables were overrun with ivy. The 
 men seemed, in general, sturdy and well-grown ; the women 
 plump and tidy ; and the children, which were sufHciently nu- 
 merous to show that the injunction to increase and multiply 
 was not unheeded in the land, were healthy, clean, and full of 
 mischief and cheerfulness. 
 
 The country-houses, of a more modest character, were fre- 
 quent ; and the more imposing forms of aristocratic mansions 
 were occasionally caught sight of, in the seclusion of a greater 
 distance from the road, through the leafless branches of the 
 trees. These were ever surrounded with extensive parks, 
 tastefully planted in easy imitation of nature, having occa- 
 sional clumps of trees interspersed over the smooth lawn, and 
 close thickets for the preservation of game. The trees were 
 by no means various in kind. Though collected and planted 
 with studious care, there were not, perhaps, one tenth of the 
 varieties that start up spontaneously in our American forests. 
 The elm occurred the most frequently, with a few beech, oak, 
 and stunted pines. 
 
 They were, for the most part, knotty, scrubby, and irregular 
 
238 THE AMERICAN IN EN€HAND. 
 
 in their growth, as compared with the tall, graceful, colnmnar 
 and infinitely-varied forms which delight the eye in our 
 forests, and it seemed to me, from their whole appearance, 
 that, ip addition to the want of the vivifying nourishment of 
 the sun, their growth was checked by the inclemency of the 
 weather, and the high winds, causing them to assume that 
 crooked and gnarled form, which is, however, valuable for 
 the uses of shipbuilding. The trees, with the exception Of a 
 few evergreens, were, of course, destitute of leaves ; but the 
 grass exhibited a verdure which the season would not have 
 permitted with us, and still furnished pasture to herds of 
 beautiful cattle, and flocks of over-grown sheep, which moved 
 with some difficulty under the added weight of so much flesh 
 and wool. 
 
 Our road led us through many large towns. Villages and 
 smaller collections of population were more rare. There 
 were, however, a few of great beauty, having very antiquated 
 parish churches, which, from the various and blended 
 character of their architecture, might have owed their ex- 
 istence in its present state, to the patchwork contributions 
 of every succeeding century, from the time of the conquest. 
 
 At one of these places was a venerable village oak, and one 
 of the passengers said something about its trunk having been 
 used as a school-room. Though not to compare with the pa- 
 triarchal trees of my own country, when one has the good 
 fortune to get far enough from the haunts of civilized man to 
 see one of them, or the famous chestnuts that flourish on the 
 side of Etna, such for instance as the noted Castagno a cento 
 vavallij yet still its dimensions were sufficiently respectable 
 to attract admiration. 
 
 The groups that filled the road were sufficiently varied and 
 picturesque, and the scene which it presented was moving 
 and animated. I was not so fortunate as to see a fox-chase, 
 but I had a glimpse, beyond Croydon, at some of the con- 
 
DRIVE TO BRIGHTON. 239 
 
 sequences of one. We met a number of gentlemen re- 
 tnrning from what seemed to have been a hard run, for 
 their horses were sadly jaded. Many bore marks of having 
 been down, both horse and rider, and one luckless wight was 
 as thoroghly drenched and mud-covered as if he had been 
 dragged through a dozen horse-ponds. This, however, was 
 not likely to tame the energy with which the English gentry 
 pursue this manly and animating sport ; a bath, a change of 
 apparel, and a good dinner, with the adventures of the day 
 and all its battles fought again over his wine, were sure to 
 give heart to the most ill-used of these, to figure at tlie suc- 
 ceeding "meet." ^ 
 
 The effect of the gay dress of these huntsmen, the top boots, 
 the white breeches, and, above all, the red coat, as seen at 
 the turnings of the road, or emerging from behind an intersect- 
 ing wood, was pleasing, and fraught with excitment. As we 
 paused at the solitary inns for a moment to water the horses, 
 and give time to the coachman to drain the foaming tankard 
 which was presented to him, I was carried back to the olden 
 time by the quaintness of the antiquated signs, in general no 
 longer painted indeed, in these march-of-mind days, when 
 everybody can read, but written out in full — TheBlack Horse, 
 The Beggar's Bush, or the Jolly Tanner. 
 
 Terhaps I should say something of ray fellow-travellers of 
 tlie interior. Besides my companion there was a rich banker, 
 a man of much note in the City. He was a Jew, and an un- 
 believing one, indeed; for ho did not seem to have placed 
 c'lny more faith in Moses than he did in Jesus Christ. He 
 was full of cleverness and intelligence, both natural and ac- 
 quired ; for he added the sprightliness and versatility of youth 
 to the experience and observation of a very mature age. It 
 was quite friglitful to hear the tenets of such unmeasured in- 
 fidelity, put forth with a calm indifference, and yet with so 
 much ingenuity. What, however made his mode of think- 
 
240 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 ing in religion the more extraordinary, was the perfectly 
 orthodox character of his opinions as a politician. He was 
 a thorough Church and King man, and an undoubting and 
 and uncompromising tory. As a Jew, excluded from any 
 participation in the benefits of a churcli to which, as a pro- 
 prietor, he doubtless contributed most extensively, and from, 
 any influence in the conduct of a government which he was 
 yet called on to support, such opinions might seem inconsis- 
 tent and paradoxical. 
 
 And yet the man argued from a just perception of his own 
 well-understood interests. He was like him, of whom we 
 read in the New Testament, in which he did not believe, who 
 could not see the truth because he was very rich. He had 
 much property, and was a great fundholder, and therefore con- 
 templated with dismay the prospect of any change in the pre- 
 sent order of things, or any revolution calculated to interfere 
 or open the door to interference with vested rights, to shake 
 the tottering and unsubstantial fabric of that public credit in 
 which his own was involved, and to take from property its 
 present overwhelming preponderance. Of course he was an 
 arrant infidel in the virtue and excellence of our republican 
 institutions, and in the conservative vitality of a system 
 which admits labour to some share in the state, thereby 
 securing its weary sons a just portion of the profits of their 
 toil, instead of transferring all beyond a mere grudging and 
 exiguous subsistence, to the coffers of a moneyed oligarchy. 
 
 Our fourth traveller was a man of very different descrip- 
 tion, who yet, from community of interests, had some sympathy 
 with the Jew. He was a good-natured cockney, full of city 
 slang, and not deficient in humour. After attaining the age 
 of manhood in the heart of London, and growing up in the full 
 belief of all those prescribed opinions which the mass of 
 Englishmen receive from each other, with somewhat less re- 
 servation than they subscribe to the thirty-nine articles, he had 
 
DRIVE TO BRIGHTON. 241 
 
 been led to America by some speculations which had a very 
 fortunate result, and remained there during many years. He 
 was the owner of property in both countries ; and the different 
 burdens he was subjected to in one and the other, and the very 
 different balances of interest he from time to time received, 
 suggested the most embarrassing additions to his stock of 
 previously conceived opinions. 
 
 His mind now exhibited a strange lumber-room, filled with 
 notions as heterogeneous as the contents of the till of a sea- 
 man's chest, stuffed with the discordant contributions of a 
 dozen climes ; church and state maxims ; loyalty to the king ; 
 the advantages of an aristocracy, and the benefit of having 
 a class to look up to — a feeling which is so eloquently advo- 
 cated by that mirror of pride and chivalry, Captain Basil Hall 
 — and the benefit to be derived from the vast expenditure of a 
 costly government, the money all remaining in the country, 
 and keeping up a circulation there, were strangely blended in 
 his mind with quaint, common sense notions which he had 
 picked up in America about religious equality : the absence of 
 all other distinctions than those of personal merit and respect- 
 ability ; exemption from tithes, taxes, and poor-rates, and the 
 benefits of cheap government. In America, he said, we had 
 neither pensions, unless for undoubted services rendered to 
 the state, sinecures, nor poor-laws, by which the laborious 
 are made to support the idle. This advantage he ascribed 
 to the circumstance of our having the benefit of the experience 
 of the old country to guide us ; illustrating our position most 
 humorously by saying, that " America is just like that king — 
 what do you call him — who was born with teeth ; or that 
 man they tell about, who dove overboard naked and came up 
 with a cocked hat on his head." Among such things as he 
 did not like in America, was the too great precocity of our 
 American youth. He said the boys with us were all minia- 
 ture men, destitute of all proper awe of tfieir superiors. In 
 
ff^ THE AMBBIOAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 England, on the contrary, the whip broke their unruly spirit 
 in season, and taught them to be obedient, subordinate, and 
 loyal. " The rod," said he, " teaches obedience, and the use 
 of money, as they grow up, to be comfortable." 
 
 Our cockney was a neat, clean, comfortable little man of a 
 certain age, extremely well preserved, having a round bullet 
 head, with scattered grey hair, a rosy face, the nose on which 
 told of the daily pint of port, and a small cunning eye, which 
 he winked knowingly when he said any thing that was par- 
 ticularly acute. Though chattering, fussy, and betraying 
 perpetual impatience by the frequency with which he looked 
 at his watch, and stretched from the coach window to see how 
 far we had come, he was yet, on the whole, both amiable and 
 amusing ; and, though evidently feeling very complacent to- 
 wards himself, he was yet not unmindful of what was due to 
 the self-complacency of others This he evinced by taking our 
 part against the Jew in the political discussion, wliich was | 
 very necessary, for my companion had been too long in the 
 country to permit himself to become impatient on these sub- 
 jects, and I, though not wholly without a set of received ; 
 opinions of my own, had no desire to make proselytes to re- 
 publicanism, felt no obligation to spread the truth, or to con- 
 vert, or to unsettle men's opinions, had I been able, and had- 
 no taste for argument of any sort. 
 
 There was, however, one subject in the discussion upon 
 America, in which these disputants most entirely agree. Tlii» 
 was the war then waging between General Jackson and the 
 Bank of the United States. Both of them were deeply in- 
 terested as stockholders in that institution; the fussy littl© 
 man to the amount of a hundred thousand dollars, and the 
 Jew to a much greater. Now, certainly, it was not very con- 
 siderate towards them, to break up a solvent and fiourishiuG- 
 institution, which furnished them with an interest of seven ] 
 cent., and give them back their money to be vested in funu-j 
 
DRIVE TO BBI6IHTON. 24§ 
 
 which^ while they would only yield them half ihat interest, or 
 even something less, might be sent at once to the devil, and 
 turned into chaff, by the consequence of war without, or the 
 breaking out of a revolution within. It would have bee a 
 most unreasonable, then, to expect any other than one coin- 
 ciding opinion between them, and this of course, most damna- 
 tory of the iron general. 
 
 I was necessarily mystified by their reasonings about ex- 
 changes, the regulation of credit, and the salutary checks to 
 over-trading, which were all to me as unintelligible as 
 Hebrew. But when they came to talk about the security of 
 the moneyed interests, the representation of property, and the 
 preponderance of capital for its own protection, and 1 — while 
 they carried out their deductions, in one sense, concerning the 
 dread of democracy, the sweeping devastation of a rabble in- 
 undation, and the horrors of an agrarian law — pursuing mine in 
 a directly opposite sense, contemplated the effects of such a sys- 
 tem in elevating the rich, and crushing the poor, and bringing 
 about, by means of the systematic usurpation of those powers of 
 government which society delegates in the interests and for the 
 general happiness of all, sucli frightful and preposterous dispari- 
 ties of fortunes, from which misery can find no outlet ©f escape, 
 and which award to toil no other reward than the privilege 
 still to toil on for ever, I could not help glorying in the live 
 and let live system of my own country, and honouring the 
 magnanimity of that man who, discovering in a rich corpora- 
 tion the disposition to control the suffrage, and usurp the so- 
 vereignty of the people, had dared to stand singly forward as 
 the champion of the poor, and to send back, as the constitution 
 permitted him to do, for reconsideration, the solemn verdict of 
 the representatives of the people. 
 
 I have neither taste nor turn for argument ; but, by a strange 
 perverseness, I have a singular facility, in listening to the 
 arguments of others, to be convinced sometimes in the directly 
 
244 THK AMERICAN IN EN&LAND. 
 
 opposite sense from what they intended. This occurred to me 
 now, and led me first to doubt the expediency of sustaining 
 an institution which these men were so anxious to support. 
 The bills of the United States Bank, in which I had been long 
 accustomed to receive my monthly pittance, were the only rag 
 money in America for which I had any respect. What little 
 feeling I had on the subject, had therefore been hitherto in its 
 favour. What I now heard first led me to doubt whether 
 General Jackson were not the sort of president we needed at 
 this conjuncture ; for my ears had been tickled by the well- 
 turned phrases and epigrammatic smartness of his immediate 
 predecessor, and although my profession released me from the 
 obligation of striking the balance of my opinions at the ballet- 
 box^ yet what little feeling I had was not in his favour. Now, 
 however, the tide of my opinions began to turn, and, not long 
 after, I was made a complete believer in the virtues of the 
 hictory-tree, by the kind eiforts of a zealous friend, who un- 
 dertook to enlighten me, and whose perverted arguments and 
 bad pleasantries succeeded at length in rooting my opinions 
 in the directly opposite sense. Perhaps I should be ashamed 
 to confess this perverseness, the pig-like disposition of my 
 opinions to run, in spite of me, in opposition of the very argu- 
 ments benevolently intended to enlighten them, did I not re- 
 collect, in recurring to my mathematical reminiscences, that 
 there is no reasoning so irresistible as that of the reductio ad 
 absurdum. 
 
 Ere the subject was exhausted I had fallen asleep, and only 
 awoke amid the glare of the lighted streets of Brighton. A 
 fly speedily conveyed us to the Albion, where, after a change 
 of dress, we consoled ourselves in the coffee-room over a com- 
 fortable dinner, for the slight fatigues of our journey. On 
 rising the next morning and opening the windows, I found 
 that my room had a southern exposure, and overlooked the 
 sea. The hotel stood alone, out of the general line of the 
 
PBIVE TO BRIGHTON. . 246 
 
 buildings lining the quay, and at the verge of a slight promon- 
 tory. Th6ugh it was already nine o'clock, the light was dim 
 and imperfect. The sky was overcast by dark clouds, flying 
 low and quick, for it blew tremendously. The gloom so 
 thickened seaward that but little of the ocean was visible ; 
 this was lashed into fury and torn by the wind, coming in 
 heavily in breakers as it approached the shore, and converting 
 itself into a raging surf in beating against the shingle, and 
 sending up a deafening roar not inferior to that of Niagara. 
 
 There was a stout parapet wall, built up to protect the 
 shore from the encroachments of the water, as well as to form 
 a barrier to the road and promenade ; while breakwaters, run- 
 ning seaward at right angles from it, served still farther to 
 protect it, by intercepting the rollers and breaking their con- 
 tinuity. To the left appeared the celebrated chain-pier, which 
 was constructed to facilitate the landing of })a8sengers from 
 steamers, and which, having been recently destroyed in a gale 
 of wind, was in process of being repaired. It consisted of a 
 collection of wooden piers, planted securely in the sands, and 
 standing at equal intervals from each other. From each of 
 these rose a species of tower, from which the chains support- 
 ing the bridge were suspended. 
 
 There was, as yet, little movement or sign of animation ; 
 for it was Sunday, and in no country is the odious habit of 
 rising late on that day so universal as in England. A few 
 restless urchins were playing among the shingle, running after 
 the receding waves, and taking quickly to their heels to 
 escape, as the proud sea came raging in again to assert his do- 
 minion. There was one other group whose errand was less 
 joyous. It was a wan and meagre woman, in squalid attire, 
 with the tatters of a straw hat on her head, and attended by 
 a little boy yet more ragged than herself. They were search- 
 ing the beach attentively, and collecting whatever, in their 
 abject condition, they might esteem valuable. Now and then 
 
246 THE AMBRICAM IN SNdLAND. 
 
 some trifling article was secured and placed in a coarse bag, 
 which the woman bore upon her back. I thought of the fre- 
 quent wrecks occurring on this coast ; of the last possessors of 
 the wretched property, which the sea, having swallowed what 
 was noble, now relinquished and threw back ; and how wil- 
 lingly, in their doomed hour, they would have exchanged con - 
 ditions with even this miserable gleaner, the widow, haply, 
 of some drowned seaman. 
 
 If I had already felt some of the inconveniences of an Eng- 
 lish Sunday, in being compelled to be in bed somewhat longer 
 than was agreeable to me, in order to accomodate myself to 
 the general postponements of the day, I found, in descending 
 to the coffee-room, others which I took even more to heart, in 
 the unsatisfactory character of my breakfast. Stale bread ap- 
 peared as the representative of hot rolls, and eke to do the 
 honours of the smoking and comfort-breathing muffins. This 
 might equally have been the case in my own country. Alas I 
 that religion, which is in itself so excellent a thing, should be 
 so wholly incompatible with a good breakfast. God's blessing 
 be upon that man who first invented a newspaper 1 for it is a 
 comfort under every misfortune ; by its aid even a bad break- 
 fast may be swallowed with composure. 
 
 With my eqanimity thus partially restored, I wandered 
 forth, leaning upon the arm of my friend, as the melancholy 
 music of the bells announced the hour of devotion. The waiter 
 had directed us to the church where we would be most likely 
 to hear a good sermon, and meet with edification for our souls. 
 Thither we bent our steps. As we went, I had an opporta- 
 nity of gathering an idea of the situation of Brighton, and its 
 general appearance. It extends along a low terrace, closely 
 skirtmg the sea-shore, and being under cover of a range of 
 hills, formed by the higher land of the interior, which overlook 
 it to the north. Hence it is protected from the cold winds, 
 
DBIVK TO BRI4»HT0N. %if 
 
 and only exposed to the more genial southern breezes that 
 blow from the sea. 
 
 This gives it great advantages as a winter residence, and 
 leads numbers of people in infirm health, or who, without this 
 cause, are attentive to their comfort, to establish themselves 
 here during the winter months. The greater part of the town 
 is of modern construction, having sprung up since the erection 
 of the Marine Pavilion by George IV., when Prince of Wales, 
 who first attracted the attention of the rich to the capabilities 
 of the place, and led many people of rank and fashion, with a 
 still greater number who were desirous of becoming so, to 
 build in so eligible a position. A city having such a luxurious 
 origin could scarce fail to be a magnificent one. Many of the 
 houses are constructed on uniform designs, in terraces over- 
 looking the sea, and the general impression produced by 
 whatever one sees here, is of a pervading elegance and good 
 taste. 
 
 The church into which we presently entered was a very 
 neat one, in a style of architecture slightly resembling the 
 Morisco ; the architect having probably caught his inspirations 
 from the eccentricities of the Pavilion. The services were 
 performed by two clergymen. The elder one, whom I took to 
 be the vicar, read prayers. He was a venerable old roadster, 
 who had evidently been broken into his duties by long prac- 
 tice, and who went on in a very persevering, ding-dong man- 
 ner, his voice offering a rich specimen of that nasal euphony 
 which is ascribed to the people of New-England. It is a very 
 general remark, that the people of New-England are the 
 Americans who, being exclusively of English origin, most 
 nearly resemble the mother country. This may, perhaps, ac- 
 count for an identity in this respect, which I had already 
 noticed with sufficient frequency. 
 
 A younger man, who was doubtless the rector, was a person 
 of much more elegant appearance, and of very superior air and 
 
248 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 preteneions. His sermon was very good, and delivered with 
 much attention to oratorical effect, and with an energetic 
 shake of the head, which, however well calculated to frighten 
 sinners, was more impressive than graceful. As for the clerk, 
 who responded below, he was a little man, done up in a black 
 gown, richly sprinkled with silk knots. He had, as clerks 
 usually have everywhere, a singularly precise and professional 
 manner of performing the functions that fell to his share ; his 
 pronunciation was most peculiar, especially in the often-re- 
 peated ejaculation. Amen! in which he contrived — it is to be 
 hoped with less sacrifice — to pitch his voice to the tone of 
 Velluti, or some other model of the neuter gender. 
 
 The organ was extremely well played ; but the singing -v^as 
 most execrable, the chief performers being either the parish 
 children, or the juvenile members of a Sunday school, who, 
 being well pleased to escape for the time from the restraints 
 of their position, and let off the restless exuberance of their 
 spirits in some legitimate and admitted way, yelled forth a 
 hideous discord, most distressing to sensitive nerves, and 
 which might only be compared to a concert of assembled 
 swineherds, blowing each, on his own account, his separate 
 symphony on a cracked cow-horn. 
 
 On leaving church we found the weather still more incle- 
 ment. The strong gale from the sea brought with it an occa- 
 sional cloud, blacker and more heavy than the rest, which, as 
 it passed above, emptied itself in a drenching shower. To 
 carry an umbrella was out of the question. So great was the 
 force of the wind, that it gave full employment to a man's 
 muscular energies to force himself forward. As the squalls 
 blew by, the eye was able to penetrate the gloom for a mile or 
 two seaward, thoagh the atmosphere was mingled with mist, 
 rain, and spray, wildly blended. A couple of brigs, under 
 close-reefed topsails, were buffeting with the winds and 
 waves; and a cutter under very low sail was standing in 
 
DRIVE TO BRIGHTON. 249 
 
 shore, and endeavouring to work to the westward. They 
 scarcely gained any thing, while thej'^ must evidently have 
 been greatly strained, and doubtless, if one could have had 
 the patience to watch them, they would have been, ere long, 
 seen to bear up, abandon what they had gained, and run for 
 the Downs, or some nearer shelter. 
 
 Intrenched within the citadel of our apartment, and cheered 
 by the comfortings of a coal fire, we passed the day in letter- 
 writing, conversation, or gazing from the sheltered security of 
 our windows upon the agitated sea, and the hapless mariners 
 who were contending with its horrors. Dinner came to our 
 relief in the evening, and by its aid we managed to overcome 
 nQ inconsiderable number of the weary hours that remained to 
 us. The system of solitary dining and non-association pre- 
 valent in English inns, and which has its origin in the dis- 
 tinction of classes, certainly has its origin in the disadvantages , 
 and these bear with peculiar hardship on the solitary stranger, 
 not only by depriving him of the accidental society which ia 
 perpetually thrown in his way in other countries, but by with- 
 drawing from him those means of information, and of obtain- 
 ing an insight into national manners, which are furnished by 
 a different system. 
 
 But though not brought into immediate contact with my 
 fellow-frequenters of the coffee-room at the Albion, I saw 
 enough of them to be greatly pleased with their tone and 
 manners. These were quiet, respectable, unostentatious, and 
 characterized by a scrupulous attention to refinement, and the 
 rules of good-breeding. The conversation among those who 
 knew each other was easy and intelligent, and a stranger to 
 argument or excited discussion. Many indeed of these per- 
 sons were men of distinction, and one among them was the 
 representative of a family which has been distinguished in the 
 annals of the land since the period of the conquest, uniting in 
 
 his person the dignities of admiral and peer. Indeed, among 
 L 5 
 
250 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 all those who frequented the coflfee-room during a week that 
 I remained at Brighton, I noticed but one person whose man- 
 ners were offensive. 
 
 This was a fiissy, talking, intrusive old fellow, who could 
 not be got rid of or shaken off^ a beggar of franks, an arrant 
 pretender to gentility, and a personification of whatever is 
 vulgar. Yet I was told that this was a person of large for- 
 tune in the City, a great speculator on the Com Exchange, 
 and, what I found somewhat more difficult of belief, an indi- 
 vidual who had enjoyed the benefit of a liberal education and 
 foreign travel. At any rate his conversation was made up of 
 low sentiments, expressed by low ideas, and uttered in low 
 English, rife with City slang, and the choicest cockneyism of 
 pronunciation. He talked loudly, and for effect ; and when 
 thfe aristocrat was at hand, instead of imitating his own un- 
 pretending demeanour, it was then, precisely, that he was 
 most swelling and offensive. He seemed, indeed, to become 
 mere vulgar by the very effort to be elegant. This was one 
 illustration of the effects of aristocratic distinctions, from 
 which philosophers and drawers of conclusions may extract 
 what inferences they please. 
 
 As I said before, the prevailing tone of manners among the 
 frequenters of the coffee-room was simple and decorous in the 
 extreme, and the vulgarity of the single exception only ren- 
 dered it more apparent. Indeed, my subsequent experience 
 tended to confirm, the impression which I then received, that 
 nowhere, so much as in England, is the class of travellers — 
 from various causes, growing out of the vast difference of 
 expense and the very different remuneration of labour, of 
 course infinitely more circumscribed than with us — so scru- 
 pulously observant of whatever is enjoined by the established 
 axioms of good-breeding, or the dictates of good taste. An 
 observer might come armed with Don Quixote's directions to 
 Sancho Panza, when he was trying to make an extempore 
 
BBICfHTON. J6l 
 
 gentleman of him ere he undertook the government of hid 
 island, or with Mr. Shandy's list of well-bred qualifications 
 required in a tutor for his son — he might be as sensitive as 
 either Sterne or Cervantes, and as censorious as he pleased^ 
 and yet be able to find little to cavil at, in whatever relates to 
 refinement and external propriety. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BRIGHTON. 
 
 Pavilion. Palace. Stables. A fine Day. Hurdle Race. High Wind. The 
 Race. The Esplanade. Return to London. Conversation on the Road. 
 
 The Pavilion at Brighton is much the most eccentric building 
 I have seen. It is in the Chinese taste, if in any besides its 
 own, being composed of a mass of low walln, out of which 
 rine a number of very singular domes, having their greatest 
 diameter at some distance from the base, and presenting much 
 the figure of an inverted top. At the angles are placed tall 
 Htone columns, which are very light and delicate in their pro- 
 portions, and which, aa well as the domes, terminate in quaint 
 ornaments, resembling log-reels. These columns, from their 
 extreme lightness, have the air of tent-poles, and, with the 
 rest, convey the idea of some gorgeous Indian encampment, 
 instead of a palace of massive stone. The columns have a 
 toppling, insecure look; but though the winds blow with 
 great violence at Brighton, none of them have ever fallen. 
 
 Having been mucli struck with the external appearance of 
 this singular and most fantastic edifice, I was not sorry to 
 have an opportunity of seeing it within, which, from the cir- 
 cumstance of tlie palace being then inhabited, I had not ven- 
 tured to expect. This advantage was procured for me by the 
 
252 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 attentive courtesy of one of the king's aid-de-camps, who, 
 supposing that the sight would be acceptable to me, had 
 kindly offered to conduct me, and fixed an hour for me to 
 meet him. I found him at breakfast, in a large apartment, 
 having much the air of the coffee-house of a French inn. In 
 the centre was a large table, furnished with various condi- 
 ments, and the universal newspapers, while lords and officers 
 were seated round in table- d'hote fashion, each breakfasting 
 according to his fancy. Some were reading or writing letters, 
 others discussing politics, palace news, military or naval dis- 
 cipline, or fashionable intelligence in high life. One or two 
 had been in America on service with their regiments. 
 
 If the Pavillion had seemed curious to me from without, it 
 was not less so when I came presently to look at it within^ 
 The dining pavilion was especially magnificent. Its ceiling 
 was formed by the interior of one of those singular domes 
 which I had seen from without. From the centre hung a 
 gorgeous lustre, of a strange design, to correspond with the 
 rest. On one occasion this fell down upon the table with a 
 fearful crash. It was blowing a gale of wind, and the domes 
 being all of iron, covered with metal, yielded a little at such 
 times, and acquired a slight vibratory motion. This was the 
 cause of the accident, and it certainly was very opportune in 
 its occurrence, as my companion observed. Had the catas- 
 trophe occurred at a royal banquet, one might imagine what 
 would have been the effects on the nerves of sensitive dames 
 and ladies in waiting. 
 
 The paintings and ornaments were in a rather tea-chest 
 taste, yet not, therefore, destitute of grace. They were beau- 
 tifully executed on linen, with which the walls were lined, 
 representing in a strange arabesque the blended forms of ser- 
 pents, dragons, and whatever was strange and extravagant, 
 and might therefore be Asiatic . ISIy companion remarked to 
 me, that, though each object was, individually considered, ra- 
 
BRIGHTON. 253 
 
 ther horrible and disgusting, yet the effect of the whole was 
 not by any means unpleasing. In passing he pointed out to 
 me the awful table at which the king was wont to sit in the 
 evening with the queen, and one or two privileged favourites. 
 It happened to be the time at which the royal family were 
 likely to be retaroing from the breakfast-room, and we had to 
 move with much caution, as our proceedings were not exactly 
 in order. 
 
 In passing to the stables we traversed the garden, which 
 has none of those beauties that so universally abound in places 
 of the sort in England. The trees are all planted in straight 
 lines, and the walks are stiff and formal. This, however, may 
 be a concession to the unities, and a compliment to the Chi- 
 nese, though I believe they were the original inventors of 
 what is known on the Continent as the English garden. The 
 stables, however, are very beautiful, and have the reputation 
 of being the finest in the world. They are built in amphithe- 
 atric form, with ranges of horse- shoe arches, supported by a 
 colonnade. The taste is decidedly Saracenic, though there is 
 more attention to general symmetry than is found among the 
 Moors. Though this amj)hithpatre be very vast, almost large 
 enough for a bull-fight, yet it is covered throughout with a 
 glass dome, kept together by an ingenious framework of iron. 
 The stables completely surround the open area, while above 
 and opening on the corridor, are the apartments of the grooms, 
 postillions, and coachmen. Each horse had a neat straw mat 
 to serve as a carpet to his stall, and on which his bed is made. 
 The temperature was exceedingly warm in this stable, and 
 when the sun shines upon the glass dome, it is said to be very 
 oppressive. 
 
 I think, though ray opinion is not worth much, that the 
 stables are almost always too warm in England, and the 
 horses too much pampered. They are very apt to get sick, 
 and require constant nursing. I know from experience that 
 
2tl4 THE AMERICAN IN EN€tLAND. 
 
 in Madeira, where horses are taken from both England and 
 America, the American horse, of equal figure, will bring a 
 higher price, and is always preferred, as being most service- 
 able and hardy. Perhaps, however, the English system may 
 produce a finer animal for luxury and show. There is most 
 certainly no country in which the horses are groomed as they 
 are here. In the stables we talked with a trooper who was 
 occupied in clipping the entire coat of a saddle-horse, having 
 come down from his barracks in London for the purpose. This 
 is a new idea, of only a few years' standing. The effect on 
 the appearance of the horse is certainly very improving. This 
 custom has been maintained in Spain from time immemorial, 
 where the mules are clipped annually at the entrance of the 
 summer, though there they remove the whole hair with great 
 address, and have an object separate from ornament, which is 
 to diminish the difficulty of cleaning, and still better to pre- 
 pare the animal for resistance to the intensity of the heat. 
 
 The display of horseflesh was very gratifying. There were 
 four fine bays, and as many grays. I was grieved to see, 
 however, that the saddle as well as coach-horses were muti- 
 lated, and without tails. The queen's carriages were ex- 
 ceedingly neat and plain, being chiefly chariots, with seats be- 
 hind for the footmen, and without boxes. I was very much 
 amused at the sight of a most formidable vehicle, which is 
 used to transport the maids of the royal establishment from 
 palace to palace. Though I had never seen it filled, I was 
 ready, from what I already observed of English maids, to be- 
 lieve that, when duly freighted, it would contain as agree- 
 able a collection of looks, fresh complexions, and wholesome 
 figures, as might anywhere be found. It was known by the 
 humorous name of the Columbus. If the care-worn discoverer 
 could have had that coach-load of comfort with him in some 
 of his wayfarings, it would certainly have been a great and 
 most acceptable solace to his weary soul. 
 
BRIGHTON. 265 
 
 Having forgotten to show me the kitchen, my courteous 
 conductor took me back to the Pavilion for the purpose. 
 There was quite an army of joints, turning by means of 
 clockwork machinery before a coal fire, in readiness for the 
 royal lunch and the dinners of the domestics, while a reserve 
 of haunches of mutton, venison, and poultry, was drawn up 
 on the eminence of a distant table, ready to give at dinner the 
 mercy stroke to the gastronomic capabilities of the day. There 
 were quantities of cooks, scullions, and women preparing 
 pastry. They were scrupulously neat in their appearance, and 
 every thing in the place looked nice, clean, and decidedly 
 English. 
 
 Upon the whole, I was pleased with the Pavilion. Though 
 original, eccentric, and unlike any thing else, yet the effect is 
 good. Perhaps it may be considered the most successful 
 architectural oddity that was ever perpetrated. The expense 
 of its construction was of course enormous, and indeed it laid 
 the foundation of the subsequent pecuniary embarrassments of 
 George IV. William, in speaking of it, once remarked, with 
 the plain sense and nautical directness that distiuguish him, 
 " "Well ! though I must say that I should never have built such 
 a place myself, since it is here I will enjoy it." Just as an 
 old quarter-master, left heir-at-law by some departed brother 
 of the compass and cun ladder, to an outlandish pea-jacket, 
 might say, " Well, this is bloody curious, to be sure, with all 
 these out of the way stow-holes" (running his hands into the 
 pockets), '^ but since Jack has taken the trouble to have it 
 built, and been so kind as to die and leave it to me, why 
 here's put her on, right off the reel ; and a bloody good fit it 
 is, too." 
 
 I expected to leave Brighton without having seen a glimpse 
 of the sun, or enjoy the comfort of so much as one fine day. 
 Such, however, was not to be the case. The Wednesday sub- 
 sequent to my arrival the wind lulled, the clouds scattered 
 
256 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 themselves, and the sun peeped mildly and languidly out, 
 fighting up the scene with a subdued cheerfulness. When I 
 went forth, after breakfast, I found that others had been 
 waiting for this relenting mood beside myself. The whole 
 town was in an uproar of bustle and preparation. The fox- 
 hunting population, who had been unable to participate in 
 their favourite pastime for many days, were all mounted, and 
 in high feather, spurring gayly through the town, with a 
 polish on themselves and their well-groomed horses, which 
 was likely to be a little dimmed by the adventures of the 
 day. 
 
 There was no end to the gigs and equipages of various 
 sorts, turning out on all aides for a drive. The number of 
 pedestrians, also, was not inconsiderable. The females were 
 well clothed, and stoutly and sensibly shod, and wore in 
 their countenances a most pleasing expression of freshness 
 and good health. There were quantities of fine children 
 sporting along the quay, under the care of their nurses, each 
 with its toy of some sort, a pair of dissatisfied dogs, drawing 
 ver}'^ much against their will, or a pet goat harnessed to a 
 neat phaeton. 
 
 The modes of getting rid of time, which seemed to be the 
 great end and object of all, were various. Some lounged into 
 reading-rooms ; some sat down deliberately in shops, to make 
 the most of the little business they were blessed with ; some 
 had themselves weighed, and were able to judge of their 
 relative condition. Thus was the burden of the day got rid 
 of. In the afternoon all repaired, by common consent, to 
 walk, ride, or drive along the ramparts by the sea-side. There 
 were a great many ladies on horseback, riding beautifully, 
 and with the confidence of assured skill ; some were unat- 
 tended by gentlemen, being followed by their servants ; there 
 were two whom I noticed in a phaeton, quite alone, driving 
 a very spirited pair of horses, which one of them managed 
 
BRmHTON. 257 
 
 with consummate ease and skill ; two grooms in livery, and 
 admirably well mounted, followed them at a distance, leav- 
 ing them quite unembarrassed, and without the fear of being 
 overheard, to make their remarks upon those who were 
 passing. There was every species of equipage represented 
 here, from the pony phaeton to the lumbering fly, which 
 seemed ever on the ascent. Even the queen added her beauti- 
 ful and rapid equipage, for a moment, to swell and give 
 brilliancy to the concourse. 
 
 It would have been difiicult anywhere to see a more brilli- 
 ant spectacle, not only as far as the equipages were concerned 
 and the high bred animals that drew them, but also as respects 
 the collection of men and women which the occasion had as- 
 sembled. The men were well grown, manly and graceful, with 
 fresh and handsome countenances ; the women were most 
 pleasing in their appearance, with an air of health and cheer- 
 fulness, added to an expression of great intelligence, in coun- 
 tenances which were, moreover, often radiant with bright- 
 ness and beauty. 
 
 I considered myself particularly fortunate, while at Brighton, 
 to hear that there was to be a hurdle-race over the neighbour- 
 ing course. This was a new style of racing, which had become 
 very fashionable, and of which I felt very curious to see a 
 specimen. On the morning fixed for it, it blew the usual hurri- 
 cane. Sailor as I was, though a very tolerable horsemen, I 
 knew better than to perch myself on horseback in such wea- 
 ther, which was just the time for housing masts and striking 
 yards instead of spreading any thing additional to the wind. 
 I engaged a fly, therefore to carry me to the scene of action ; 
 but, while I was preparing to go, the driver took himself off. 
 There was not a vehicle in sight, and there was no choice but 
 to walk, which was indeed no very great hardship, as the dis- 
 tance was only a mile. The wind, moreover, was directly aft ; 
 and catching against my cloak, outspreading my elbows, drove 
 
2f»; THB AMBRICAN IN KN&LAND. 
 
 me on like a ship under two lower studding-saila, making it 
 only necessary to move ray feet at double quick time, without 
 making any muscular exertion whatever. 
 
 The hills which overlook Brighton landward, and protect it 
 from the uorth winds, are called the Downs. They are com- 
 posed entirely of chalk, being covered with soil to the depth 
 of a very few feet. They are not cultivated, but almost every- 
 where covered with grass, which serves as an excellent pas- 
 ture for sheep, producing mutton of superior flavour, which is 
 very celebrated. These hills have a gradual swell, and are not 
 disagreeable objects, though monotonous, and naked of trees. 
 They were to be the scene of the race ; and on reaching the 
 allotted spot, I already found the place thronged with people. 
 I at once took refuge in the station-house, to escape from the 
 force of the wind, which here blew with tenfold fury. 
 
 On looking round me from this more comfortable post, the 
 scene wliich presented itself was gay and animated. There 
 was a brilliant assemblage of the rich and distinguished popula- 
 tion of the neighbouring watering-places ; some were in taste- 
 ful chariots, driven by gaily-dressed postillions ; others driv- 
 ing four-in-hand : mounted gentlemen followed by their grooms, 
 or others, who were officers, by their orderlies in uniform ; the 
 grooms being usually more gaily mounted than their masters. 
 Notwithstanding the violence of the wind, there were even 
 ladies on horseback, though they seemed as if about to be torn 
 into ribands, and driven piecemeal by its violence. Among the 
 more undistinguished throng were groups of private soldiers in 
 their gay scarlet ; stout and merry wives from the neighbour- 
 ing villages, who seemed not at all afflicted by the discom- 
 posure of their dress ; and numbers of sturdy peasants in smock 
 frocks, leathern leggings, like stockings, and apparently as 
 much fixtures as those of Gurth the swineherd, and having on 
 coarse laced shoes, shod with pounds of iron ; there were 
 also venders of cakes and strong beer, attending to the behests 
 
of these last as they called out roughly — '' I say, master, a pint 
 of heavy wet?" Some fellows were trying in various parts 
 of field, not everywhere inefifeetually, to start some game they 
 might turn to their advantage, or to get up a fight which 
 might be as useful to them ; others, very much out at the 
 elbows, slyly skulked about, watching apparently, for a chance 
 to lift the " blunt," or other moveable property of the unwary, 
 when they should be lost in the excitement of the race. 
 
 The ardour which these manly sports are pursued in Eng- 
 land, was sufficiently shown by the circumstance of so great 
 a crowd having assembled, notwithsanding the unpropitious 
 character of the day. The wind, indeed, blew with such 
 violence, that the garments of the spectators fluttered on all 
 sides like split topsails in a hurricane at sea ; hats, handker- 
 chiefs, shawls, and cloaks, were perpetually escaping, and 
 driving far before the blast. The horses often refused to face 
 it, and turned to escape its force, and in the course of the 
 day I saw, myself, two flies, now first doubtless meriting the 
 name, which were blown completely over, carrying the drivers 
 with them. One of these accidents occurred immediately 
 beneath the station-house, amid a large crowd, where many 
 might have been injured and possibly killed, but, very fortun- 
 ately, there was no one caught by the overturned vehicle. 
 
 The course over which the race was to be run was neither 
 level nor circular. It was nearly two miles long, branching 
 out into an elliptic form at the extremity, which turned the 
 horses, and brought them back again to the stand, by the 
 same road on which they had left it. In leaving the starting 
 place, the horses were to leap, in succession, three sheep- 
 hurdles — a species of wicket-fence, three or four feet high, and 
 used as a temporary enclosure for sheep — placed at distances 
 of a hundred yards from each other, and these were to be 
 again leaped in returning to the winning-post. 
 
 The scene was brilliantly animated within the enclosure. 
 
260 THE AMERICAN IN ENS LAND. 
 
 when the cloths were stripped off the horses, and the riders 
 vaulted into the saddle. The horses, ten in number, were 
 stout and powerful hunters, and though not full-blooded, or 
 having a very racing look, yet still appearing well suited to 
 the heavy work that was before them. The riders were all 
 gentlemen, generally riding their own horses, and beautifully 
 dressed in white breeches, top-boots, and caps and jackets of 
 crimaon, purple, violet, or tartan. They sat finely and grace- 
 fully on their powerful horses, heedless of hurdles, hurricanes, 
 or whatever might betide them, though the feat they were 
 about to undertake was not wholly without its dangers. 
 
 At length they all started together, and at a round pace. 
 The horse mounted by the rider in tartan, which was as 
 gallant in his bearing as any, at the outset, refused the very 
 first hurdle, bringing his rider with a sudden bolt completely 
 over his head. He was, however, any thing but a dead man ; 
 in an instant he was mounted, and at length fairly forced his 
 horse over. Charging boldly at the second hurdle, his horse 
 bolted again, and he again made a somerset, and so on three 
 times in succession, at each falling on his back or head with 
 more or less violence, but with no diminution of courage. 
 Meantime the rest pursued their way with such fortune as 
 they might. In returning to where the tartan chief was fiercely 
 battling with his recusant charger, two horses swerved in 
 leaping the hurdle, and came with their riders violently to the 
 ground. And thus the race continued through its various 
 heats, the horsemen riding over each other in turn, and each 
 meeting with accidents enough to have killed a dozen, yet the 
 whole ending without one broken bone, or a single one of the 
 hardy horsemen losing heart, however maltreated. The spec- 
 tacle, on the whole, was the most brilliant one of the sort I 
 had ever seen ; and the exhibition of the bold and fearless 
 character which is developed among Englishmen by the pur-^ 
 
BRIGHTON. 261 
 
 suit of field-sports, was most creditable to the country and 
 pleasing to contemplate. 
 
 I was fortunate enough to find a carriage to return in, as 
 meeting the wind face to face would have been a formidable 
 encounter. Indeed, it blew so hard, that it was not without 
 exertion that the horses could draw the carriage down a 
 tolerably steep hill. Sometimes the fly-men would have to 
 descend and draw their horses downward by the head. A 
 few horse-women, scattered along the road, were well-nigh 
 torn asunder by the pitiless blast; and what with fluttering 
 attire, escaping hat, and dishevelled hair, offered the most 
 piteous spectacle in the world. Don Quixote should have 
 been there to add to the variety of his adventures, by battling 
 with the wind in the cause of these distressed damsels. The 
 walkers only got forward by stretching so far out of the per- 
 pendicular, as to have the air of men swimming for their lives. 
 
 My time at Brighton did not pass very agreeably. The 
 only persons I knew there had left. I afterward found, indeed, 
 that had I overlooked my letters, and cast about me a little, 
 I might have made some useful acquaintance. One individual, 
 in particular, no less distinguished for the chnrms of his cha- 
 racter than the graces of his mind, and whose kindness sub- 
 Iaequently sought me out and loaded me with many and most 
 acceptable favours, heard of my having been there, and re- 
 gretted that the opportunity had not then occurred of being 
 useful to me. Had I known this circumstance at the time, my 
 situation would have been very different, and all my subse- 
 quent movements might have been essentially modified. As 
 it was, my time hung heavily. Though tlie hotel was a good 
 one, I began to tire of it. The inmates of the cofifee-room 
 were, as I before said, very agreeable people. And many of 
 them, discovering by my correspondence — exhibited with the 
 rest each morning on the chimney — that I a foreigner, began 
 to address me and offer me civilities. 
 
262 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 I was, however, weary with seeing the landlord enter each 
 day, at the same hour, with a similar leg of mutton, and de- 
 posite it solemnly before me ; this daily tete-a-tete with a 
 sheep's leg began to annoy me. I took a violent dislike more- 
 over to the waiter. He was a shrewd, clever, and active fel- 
 low enough, and not wanting in civility. But his fortunes 
 had elevated him above his sphere, and he was aspiring to be 
 himself an innkeeper. He had accumulated a little property 
 from his gleanings in the coffee-room ; the which property he 
 had invested in certain flies, which stood at the inn door for 
 the use of the guests. Now, if a guest required a fly, it was 
 the thing of all others in which he was likely to secure the 
 prompt attention of the waiter ; while another, who pined for 
 cotelettes or collops, was left to languish in hopeless and un- 
 heeded deprivation. 
 
 There were other circumstances about the establishment, 
 with which I was in the humour to be displeased. The house 
 was full of young women of an interesting age, and most of 
 them sufficiently well-looking. These cumbered stairways 
 and passages, and met me at every turning. All their occu- 
 pations were accompanied by music ; thus, a lusty syren who 
 scrubbed about my door, serenaded me every morning with 
 the seductive accents of—" I have loved thee ;" while a more 
 sentimental damsel, whose duty it was to fill the pitchers, 
 sighed forth her soul each evening in the fond invitation — 
 " Meet me by moonlight alone !" 
 
 The long nights, which, for want of better occupation, I 
 passed alone in my chamber, devoured by ennui, and with the 
 lurid glare of the sea-coal fire scattering a melancholy and 
 partial light around me, were full of misery. The only real 
 pleasure within my reach was to repair to the esplanade 
 leading to the Pier. Here were one or two rude benches 
 under cover from the weather; the surf beat immediately at my 
 feet, while behind, all other objects were excluded by the 
 
 I 
 
BBieiHTON. 263 
 
 high parapet, which protected the town froni the encroach- 
 ments of the aea. During the day this place was much 
 resorted to by fashionable walkers, but by night not a footfall 
 disturbed its silent walks, and then a man might seek out this 
 solitude, and be alone with nature and himself. Here I was 
 wont to repair in the dead of the night, and, enveloped 
 in my cloak, stretch myself on one of these benches. Usually, 
 the sky lowered, the blast swept by, bringing with it an 
 occasional shower, to which the sea would mingle its mists. 
 Then, to contemplate this strife of the elements, and listen to 
 the voice of terror in which they gave utterance to their rage, 
 was to me a peculiar pleasure. 
 
 From my youth I had been familiar with the sea, yet never 
 before had I been so impressed with its grandeur. I had lived 
 among its horrors until they had become so familiar to me as 
 my most well-known friends. But now to contemplate the 
 ocean in its angriest mood, from the comfort and security of 
 a sheltered situation, with unnumbered objects of comparison 
 around me, and fresh from the contact with the common|circum- 
 stances of an everyday existence, heightened immeasurably 
 the sublimity of the scene. 
 
 On one single occasion the night was tranquil ; though the 
 surf still beat with violence, the wind scarce sighed audibly 
 over the broken waves, and the pale moon looked tremulously 
 forth, silvering the tips of the broken billows, which, though 
 the storm had gone by, and the breeze was gentleness itself, 
 still danced madly, as if in terror of their past agitation. It 
 is in such a moment, and when thus surrounded, that we love 
 to abandon ourselves to the wings of our imagination, to 
 search into the hidden recesses of the memory, and the sacred 
 places of the heart, and bring forth whatever is connected 
 with our tenderest recollections of the past. 
 
 At the end of a week I started for London by the Wonder 
 coach, having left Brighton at eight o'clock. The top of the 
 
264 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 coach was covered with schoolboys, who were returning to 
 their friends in London to pass the Christmas holydays. Though 
 they might be very well supposed to be half perished with 
 cold, as indeed their vivacious stamping on the roof of the coach 
 sufficiently indicated, yet they were full of glee and meriment, 
 shouting and cheering as we went, as if possessed. So soon as 
 the day dawned they began to shoot peas, through long tubes 
 which they had for the purpose, into the face of every one we 
 met. There were several other coaches similarly blessed ; and 
 when we passed each other, the urchins would mutually pre- 
 pare to fire a volley, which, to judge from the report on our 
 window-glasses of some of the enemy's shots, I should have 
 esteemed any thing but acceptable. The youths of the various 
 coaches seemed mutually to have encouraged the coachmen 
 by words or promises, and to have inspired the dignified 
 knights of the whip with something of their own vivacity, for 
 we bowled along at a wondrous rate, even taking the name 
 of our coach into consideration. 
 
 We struck at once to the north, climbing the Downs. As the 
 day dawned, I was pleased with the appearance of that part of 
 the country, which I had missed seeing on the drive down. 
 There were many country-seats, and ornamental cottages of 
 great beauty. In the kitchen-gardens, of which there were 
 many in sheltered situations by the roadside, I noticed it as 
 not a little extraordinary, considering the season of the year, 
 that many vegetables, such as lettuce, spinach, and others, 
 were perfectly green and fresh. The grass was in the same 
 condition. The fields were filled with fat sheep of the South 
 Down breed, the freshness and richness of the pasture suffici- 
 ently accounting for their well-fed condition. In others, the 
 cows and oxen were taking their breakfast of dry hay, which 
 had been scattered along the hawthorn trees to make it more 
 tempting. 
 
 These cares were attended to by the sturdy peasants, in 
 
feRiaHTOK. 26^ 
 
 white frocks, gaiters, and hobnailed or wooden-soled shoes, 
 who strode forward with indifference through the rain and 
 wet grass. Others, of inferior condition and worse clad, 
 were engaged in breaking flints and sprinkling them on the 
 road, or else in taking off the scrapings, so as to leave it 
 smooth and level. At various points were notices conspicu- 
 ously placed, proclaiming the penalty which was inflicted on 
 those who should remove the " road-scrapings." The condi- 
 tion of the poor cannot be very enviable where there could 
 be theft of this description. 
 
 A little gipsy group, which we saw in the course of the 
 morning, breakfasting under a hedge by the roadside, reminded 
 me of scenes with which I was already familiar through the 
 medium of pictures, novels, and descriptive sketches of Eng- 
 lish life. There was a little cart, the receptacle of rags, 
 findings, and plunder of various sorts, from which a shaggy 
 pony had been released, to crop the grass along tlie hedges. 
 The tent had not been pitched ; but the family group, con- 
 sisting of father, mother, and two children, was collected 
 about the teakettle, under slielter of a hedge, and making a 
 meal, which their morning's exertions, and the stimulating 
 effects of the open air, in which they lived, no doubt rendered 
 palatable. 
 
 At every six or seven miles we changed horses, an operation 
 which did not delay us more than a minute or two. Some- 
 times at the foot of a hill, though of so slight elevation as t© 
 be scarce distinguishable as such, we would meet a mounted 
 postillion with an extra pair of horses, which, taking us quickly 
 in tow, would whirl us upward at a gallop. 
 
 Having passed ten minutes at Orawley for breakfast, we 
 again set forward, and in four hours and fifty minutes from 
 the time of our starting from Brighton, we were set down at 
 the Elephant and Castle, a distance of fifty-eight miles. The 
 best driving indeed in England is found on this road. Many 
 
 M 
 
266 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 of the coaches are drawn throughout by beautiful and spirited 
 horses, and some of the drivers are men of ruined fortunes, 
 backsliders from distinguished families. Thus, I was told 
 that one of them was the son of a baronet, and that a rattle- 
 headed marquis, famous as a whip, not unfrequently amused 
 himself in playing the coachman on this road. 
 
 My fellow-passengers of the inside were a young couple, 
 who, from the pleasure they seemed to take in each other's 
 society, I imagined to be newly married, and a third person, 
 somewhat older, very particular about the care of his luggage, 
 and the comfortable accommodation of his person, and who, 
 from the confirmed character of his ways and habits, was as 
 evidently a selfisli and inveterate bachelor. This last indivi- 
 dual was valetudinarian and hypochondriac. He liad travelled 
 extensively on the continent: knew a great deal about prices 
 and the expense of living there ; had been a little enlightened 
 on the subject of cookery, and knew a thing or two about 
 Rhenish and French wmes. During the ride he edified us 
 with a complete history of his complaints, and engaged in 
 conversation with his countryman, sitting opposite to him, 
 about the fashionable news of the Court at Brighton. 
 
 I was not a little astonished at the pleasure these people 
 seemed to take in vying to show their acquaintance with the 
 private and familiar history of titled peojjle, to whom it was 
 impossible, from a certain vulgar pretension of manner, that 
 they could themselves be personally known, and in talking of 
 entertainments in high life, and pleasures from which they 
 were necessarily excluded. I subsequently found this unwor- 
 thy custom to be a sufficiently ])revailing one. What most 
 ehocked me, however, was the familiarity which the elder 
 traveller showed with some of the inferior arrangements of 
 the kiuf^'s domestic establishment, and the singular pleasure 
 which he took in describing a Norfolk pie, which the king had 
 lunched from on the preceding Sunday, and of which he had 
 
BRIGHTON. 267 
 
 eaten, the day previous, at dinner. It was evident from his 
 tone and manner, that if there were any act or circumstance 
 of his past life of which he felt that he had reason to be proud, 
 it was the eating of that pie. The reminiscence seemed to 
 kindle within him an atmosphere of self- contentment, equal to 
 the achievement of the most honourable deeds. 
 
 As our coach terminated its career in the City, and not at 
 the West End, such of the passengers as were going to the 
 latter transferred themselves to an omnibus, and went off in 
 the direction of Westminster. When the last of us descendwil 
 to take hackney-coaches in liegent-street, our young couple 
 discovered, to their great dismay, that one of their portman- 
 teaus was missing. It was that of the lady, and doubtless 
 contained the jewels and finery with which she had been 
 striviug to da/zle the gay world at Brighton. What pen may 
 venture to describe the looks of dismay with which the hitherto 
 happy pair gazed at each separate article, produced from top 
 and boot, and stow-hole, until all were on the pavement, and 
 saw, that what their eyes so earnestly sought to rest upon, was 
 not ! The grief with which Jacob bewailed the loss of Joaepli, 
 might convey some notion of the scene ; or if, reader, you 
 have ever beheld the terrified solicitude with which a dog, 
 suddenly deposited in a crowd, in a strange city, courses tlie 
 pavement and seeks for his lost master, you may conceive he 
 anxious and intense bewilderment of our hapless bridegroom. 
 The loss of luggage in America, where people travel in 
 bunches of six hundred, is the commonest occurrence in (lie 
 world, and occasions sufficient inconvenience, although the 
 missing article, if duly labelled, is sure to return, like another 
 prodigal son; but in London, where fifty thousand of the most 
 ingenious inhabitants live without means or labour upon the 
 goods of their fellow-men, the loser of a trunk has nothing 
 better to do than fold his hands, and utter an exclamation ana- 
 
268 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 logous to that of the bereaved Bobadil— "Wo is me, Al- 
 bania !" 
 
 Having promised to domesticate myself under the roof of 
 the friend who had accompanied me to Brighton, and who had 
 already returned, I took my way to the Begent's Park. Here 
 I found myself most pleasantly situated, in that part of Lon- 
 don which I still continued to think the most attractive, even 
 when I had become familiar with the whole metropolis ; hav- 
 i \g almost entire possession of a charming mansion, filled witli 
 every imaginable luxury and comfort, and commodious to a 
 degree scarcely known in our own country, with abun- 
 dance of civil and attentive servants, and a carriage or a 
 saddle-horse perpetually at my disposal. The avocations of 
 my friend and my own, if I might be said to have any, ceased 
 at the same time, and our evenings passed together in a social 
 intercourse, of which his amiable character and agreeable qua- 
 lities render the recollection most pleasing to me. 1 began 
 now to believe in the possibility of my being able to weather 
 out, in this snug anchorage, the horrros of a London winter, 
 and to accomplish that which I so much regretted having un- 
 dertaken. Circumstances, however, very soon occurred to 
 change my plans, and send me, a very willing exile, to sunnier 
 and more congenial climes. 
 
LONDON. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 Christmas. Celebrated by Populace. Comparison with Catholic Countries. 
 Westminster Abbey. Exterior. Interior. Services. Sermon. Tombs. 
 Den of a great Publisher. 
 
 The merry season of Christmas was now approaching; and 
 there was much to indicate that, however the tim es might 
 have changed, and lost their poetry and pastimes in the more 
 prosaic and utilitarian usages of the age of radicalism and of 
 steam, it was not to go by wholly unhonoured. The shops 
 began to glow out with additional lustre ; the goods were 
 displayed in the windows to tempt the passers with more 
 than usual coquetry; and not a few of the lower classes 
 began the prelude, by flourishes of drunken preparation, to 
 the scene of debauchery which the streets of London were 
 presently to exhibit. 
 
 Among the more pleasing evidences of preparation for some 
 great feast, in whose joys there were to be many partakers, 
 was the arrival of untold quantities of game by the vans and 
 coaches from every part of the kingdom, whether sent as 
 presents from the country to friends in town, or to swell the 
 stock in trade of some extensive poulter. The game thu s trans- 
 ported by coach in England, from one extremity to the othe; ,is 
 packed in boxes or hampers, or else left loose, where the 
 distance is not considerable. Such, indeed, is the influx of 
 game from some of the counties at this season, that the 
 coaches are often exclusively freighted with it ; and I saw one 
 coach from Norfolk come whisking up to the Bull and Mouth 
 the day before Christmas, drawn by six smoking horses, and 
 festooned in every direction, body, box, and carriage, with 
 
270 THE AMERICAN IN KNGtLAND. 
 
 moor-fowl, hares, and partridges; and exhibiting moreover, 
 for inside passengers, instead of the querulous features of 
 weazen-faced old maids, or the bottle nose of a doughty half- 
 pay officer, or the anxious countenance of a muffled valetudina- 
 rian, the most interesting spectacle of dangling goose-heads, 
 looking more than usually silly, or the whitened gills of what 
 had late been vapouring and consequential turkey-gobblers. 
 
 The riot had already commenced one day in advance. An 
 ill-judged charity, or their own economy, had furnished the 
 most wretched of the populace with the means of brutal in- 
 dulgence, and at nightfall the streets of the capital resounded 
 with drunken brawls, and the clamours of a pervading de- 
 bauchery. That night" I went to Covent Garden theatre, 
 to see the Christmas spectacle of Mother Hubbard and her 
 dog. Having tired of this, I went next to Drury Lane, whei 
 there was a most brilliant pageant, founded on the fable oi 
 St. George and the dragon, and the seven Champions of 
 Christendom. In both places the audience was of a character 
 more disgusting than can be furnished by any other capital in 
 the world. 
 
 In the places of inferior price the occupants were sitting in 
 their shirt sleeves, their coats hanging down before the boxes, 
 and sometimes falling ; bottles were passing from mouth to 
 mouth, while, immediately below me, sat two ruffians with 
 their sweethearts, who, in addition to their bottles of gin, had 
 a glass to flrink it from,eitlier because their tastes were moii 
 scrupulous, or because they had an eye to the just distribution 
 of their "lush." One of them, who had but half a nose, kept 
 his arm about the neck of his greasy partner, and indulged in 
 open dalliance, in which, indeed, he was supported by the ex- 
 ample of many others, in the face of the audience. 
 
 This, in the boxes, consisted chiefly of persons of a tender 
 age of either sex, who, having returned from their boarding- 
 schools to spend the holy days at home, were brought by their 
 
LONDON. 271 
 
 parents to see what they might. The spectacle off the stage 
 was at all events an edifying one ; and what with the shouts,' 
 groans, the whistling, and deafening din, I left the place at 
 length, completely stunned and heart-sick. 
 
 Tliere was nothing very refreshing in the scenes without. 
 Here, too, the air was foul with gas, smoke, and ill odours of 
 every sort. It was raining in a slow, deliberate manner. 
 The streets, and they who perambulated them, were reeking 
 with mud, while the corners and other stations, where a more 
 than usually brilliant display of gas-lights and stained glass 
 announced the position of a gin-palace, were surrounded by 
 ragged throngs, whose flushed faces, tainted breaths, and noisy 
 clamour, gave evidence of the depth of their potations. These 
 groups were not composed alone of the ruder sex, but women 
 from the labouring classes of life, as well as of a more wretched 
 description, mingled in equal numbers. Many swaggered 
 homeward, cursing or chanting a drunken catch, with a bottle 
 in each hand, while others, only singly armed, sustained on 
 the other side an unconscious infant, exposed thus soon to the 
 inclemency of the weather, and doomed to suck its earliest 
 nourishment from a bosom polluted by poisonous ministerings. 
 
 It was near two o'clock : the light of day, withdrawn some 
 ten hours earlier, had proclaimed that this was the season 
 meant by nature for repose ; yet everywhere the streets were 
 thronged with whatever was unseemly in the spectacle of hu- 
 man degradation. The ears were shocked with slang and 
 obscenity, and from blind alleys, constituting the darker haunts 
 of misery and vice, proceeded the fierce clamour of drunken 
 strife, and reiterated cries of " Murder ! murder !" 
 
 As I went musing homeward, it was difi&cult to realize 
 that that which I had contemplated was done in commemora- 
 tion of the Nativity of our Saviom*. It was by drunken 
 orgies, murderous brawls, and shameless prostitution, that 
 the English populace celebrated the advent of Him who came 
 
272 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 to establish a pure and unsullied religion — " the Lamb which 
 taketh away the sins of the world." I could not help remem- 
 bering that the last Christmas had found me among the Ma- 
 honese, a people who, being both Catholic and Spanish, had, 
 as such, a double claim to the scorn and pity of Englishmen. 
 What were the circumstances there attending the celebration 
 of Noche Buena — the happy night of all the year ? 
 
 Why, the streets were gay with groups of mirthful and 
 merry-making maskers, pausing to sing and to dance beneath 
 balcony or veranda, until, as the midnight hour approached 
 that fulfilled the period of the thrice joyous anniversary, all 
 were seen to seek the temple which was to be the scene of its 
 celebration. Behold the vast area of the noble edifice, filled 
 with adoring thousands kneeling humbly on the pavement, as 
 they contemplated the mystery which shadowed forth the 
 scene of the Nativity, the Gothic roof trembling with the glad 
 sounds of angelic hallelujahs, or reverberating to the joyous 
 and life-inspiring strains pealed forth by that noble organ, 
 thrilling the feelings with untold eeetasy, and elevating the 
 soul heavenward with a holy joy, by strains not unworthy of 
 the skies. There was no intoxication, save what might be 
 ftfund in the delirious transports of believers, quickened into 
 a sublime enthusiasm at the advent of the Redeemer. 
 
 On Christmas-day my friend drove me to Westminster Ab- 
 bey, to attend the morning service there, which I expected 
 would be, considering the greatness of the occasion, rich with 
 pomp and ceremony. I had already frequently passed near 
 this noble pile, which in magnificence of extent, grandeur of 
 proportions, and elaborate beauty of construction, compared 
 most favourably with the noblest specimens of Gothic archi- 
 tecture which I had seen, and these included whatever is 
 telebrated throughout Europe. It possesses indeed a sym- 
 metrical and homogeneous character throughout, that is not 
 often found ip these vast piles, which, erected for the most 
 
LONDON. 273 
 
 part in various succeeding ages, generally bear the impres- 
 sion of the conflicting and discordant tastes of taeir con- 
 structors. 
 
 There is, however, one defect in the external appearance 
 which is sufficiently obvious, and this is the too great length 
 compared with the height, though this, witkin, adds vastly to 
 the character of grandeur and continuity, as you look t l^ng 
 the naves from extremity to extremity. This defect of tlie 
 exterior is moreover increased by the addition of Henry VII.'s 
 chapel, on the east, which is a complete construction in it- 
 self, having its own proportions and style of architecture, 
 namely, the florid and highly-ornamented Gothic, and which, 
 however superlatively beautiful when singly considered, is, 
 as forming part of the whole, an ungainly and injurious 
 excrescence. 
 
 If, however, there were any impression at variance with 
 unqualified admiration in contemplating this grand structure 
 from without, that impression vanished as I traversed the 
 cloisters, and, passing the noble portal, stood'in the midst of 
 columns, and arches, and swelling naves, surrounded by the 
 mighty dead of England, the treasured remains, the sculptured 
 effigies, and the recorded epitaphs of those who have embla- 
 zoned our history with the brightness of their deeds, immor- 
 talized our language, and shed undying glory on our race. 
 
 It was the Poet's Comer, and I would have knelt, in ima- 
 gination at least, before the effigy of Shakspeare, to offer the 
 passing adoration of my mind and my heart, and to bless him 
 for the elevation and dignity he had conferred on that nature 
 in which I glowed with pride and enthusiasm to feel that I 
 was a common participator. But I was not permitted to 
 pause, being at once ushered by grotesquely-liveried beadles, 
 armed with maces, into the interior sanctuary of the choir, 
 which is a church of sufficient dimensions in itself, fashioned 
 within the central nave of the cathedral, and set apart for the 
 M 5 
 
274 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 services of a worship which does not admit of being exercised 
 in so vast and too extended an edifice. 
 
 The choir was separated from the body of the Abbey by 
 screens of richly-carved wood, and a lofty organ intersecting 
 the oentral nave and interrupting the grand effect of its con- 
 tii luus ranges of columns and arches. There was, however, 
 a partial glimpse of its vastness and grandeur above and on 
 either hand, where the eye followed the columns of dark 
 marble as they expanded into pointed arches, supporting in 
 turn the ribbed and fretted roof, which, rich with gilding and 
 blazonry, swelled nobly harmonious above, while at either 
 extremity of the cross, the stained and storied windows ad- 
 mitted a dim and solemn light, which grew and waned per- 
 petually with the fitful alternations of the sky. 
 
 The service was about to commence ; many of the seats were 
 already filled; and the beadle, having scanned our air and 
 attire to graduate his courtesy, conducted us to a very com- 
 fortable seat, holding out, as we entered, his familiar hand to 
 receive the customary gratification. There were many clergy- 
 men seated in the stalls of the choir on either hand, while lower 
 down were bands of professional chanters and boys, dressed 
 as in Catholic cathedrals, and contributing, with the effect of 
 the edifice, to carry the mind back to the Romish usages of 
 which it was for so many centuries the scene. 
 
 At the chiming of a small bell, telling the quarters, the ser- 
 vices commenced. A well-fed, dark-haired, and whiskered 
 clergyman led off in a soft melodious voice, cadenced as in 
 the mass, and the responses were made in the same* style from 
 the entire choir, the organ playing the customary accompani- 
 ment. The effect of this service was very similar to that of 
 the Roman church, doubtless being precisely that which came 
 in use at the reformation, the Litany being translated, and the 
 English language substituted for the Latin, with iircservation 
 of the Roman forms. There was much of the same pomp, and 
 
LONDON, 275 
 
 the well-drilled chanter seemed to study the harmony of his 
 accents more than solemnity of utterance. The efifect of the 
 liturgy in this form, in which very important words were oc- 
 casionally swallowed and lost to the hearer, was not unlike 
 that which is produced — if one might compare a church to a 
 theatre — ^by the subjection of Shakspeare's sentences to operatic 
 forms. It is, however, but fair to add, that if, as the perver- 
 sion grew familiar to me, I learned gradually to listen with 
 composure to Othello's song when he was about to stifle Des- 
 demona, as also in process of time I came to like the cathedral 
 service of the Church of England, and to seek every occasion 
 of listening to it. 
 
 As for our sermon, instead of glowing with feeling and elo- 
 quence, and being filled with exulting pictures of that scheme 
 of redemption which it was Christ's mission to fulfil, it was 
 from first to last a cold and listless declamation about the lustg 
 of the world, the flesh and the devil, uttered, if not with an 
 air of unbelief, at least with one of supreme indifference whe- 
 ther belief were inspired in others. It was almost ludicrous 
 to observe the heartless manner in which the faithful were told 
 that religion must be of the heart. In short, it was quite evi- 
 dent that the sermon was preached because it was paid for, 
 though unquestionably beyond its value. The preacher had a 
 small head, a delicate hand, a decidedly fashionable look, and 
 an extreme air of good tone. Every thing about him, indeed, 
 spoke of a fitmous salary, the gift of God, by whose providence 
 he had been boni of a good family, and showed that he was in 
 no manner indebted to his flock of miscellaneous hearers, who 
 might either repair to, or keep aloof from, a richly endowed 
 establishment, which was alike independent of their charity 
 and their faith. 
 
 If I were eager for the close of the sermon because it was 
 a stupid one, I had also an additional motive of impatience 
 in my desire to loiter through the aisles of the Abbey, ex- 
 
276 THK AMERICAN IN ENGfLAND. 
 
 amining its rich monuments and eloquent inscriptions, and 
 offering my homage at the shrine of departed genius. In this 
 intention, however, I was frustrated by the assiduous beadles, 
 who headed me off as I was starting on my excursion, usher-' 
 ing me out as rapidly as the rest. This, indeed, tvas one of 
 the days of the year in which the Abbey is not shown ; for 
 the pilgrim, no matter from what distance he may have wan- 
 d§red, is not permitted to approach the remains of Milton and 
 Shakspeare without the payment of money. The sentiments 
 which such a visit is calculated to awaken in a generous 
 bosom are sold for silver, passing into the pockets of the 
 greedy gleaners, or expended in repairs, which might well be 
 met by the ample endowment provided by the piety of past 
 ages, were it not diverted from its legitimate uses to minister 
 to the cravings of sacerdotal avarice. 
 
 I had to repeat my visit to the Abbey the following day, 
 and wandered through the precincts, examining the monu- 
 ments, and reading the inscriptions, with such a feeling of 
 awe and admiration as they were suited to inspire. There is 
 no end, indeed, to the claims to one's attention on every side ; 
 for architecture, sculpture, and the consecrating associations 
 of genius, of greatness, and of misfortune, are all here to 
 awaken the admiration, or stir the sympathies with a tender 
 and touching interest. 
 
 In the chapel of Henry VII. the mind is awed by the gor- 
 geois character of the architecture, and by the splendour of 
 the monuments which entomb the buried majesty of England's 
 kings ; while above are seen the swords, the helmets, and the 
 waving banners of the knights of one of the noblest orders 
 of Christendom, to complete the impression of the scene, and 
 fill the imagination with images of magnificence and pomp. 
 Now, one of the tenderest and most mournful recollections 
 which history and a Shakspeare's muse have traced in the 
 memory is quickened into new life, by the sight of that tomb 
 
LONDON. 277 
 
 beneath which repose the remains of the early victims of a 
 Richard's cruelty ; anon, the proud sepulchre of the murdered 
 Mary is seen to mock, by its pomp and gorgeousness, the un- 
 equalled misfortunes of that queen, so renowned for beauty, 
 genius, and attraction ; who added every loveliness of person 
 to the most bewitching graces of the mind ; and who only 
 closed a hopeless captivity, which extended through half a 
 life, begun with every circumstance of auspiciousness and 
 promise, with a death of ignominy and horror. 
 
 With what a melancholy feeling does the fancy not revert 
 from the proud effigy of the queen, full of loveliness, and 
 clothed with all the emblems of state and power, to the days 
 succeeding that of her execution at Fotheringay, during 
 which her headless trunk, deserted by her women, who were 
 not permitted to approach it, and render the decencies which 
 the meanest of her sex might have claimed for her remains, 
 lay exposed in a lumber-room, with no death-clothes more 
 becoming than the tatters of an old cloth which had been 
 torn from a billiard-table ! 
 
 In a chantry over one of the chapels were some wainscot 
 presses, containing wax figures of various princes, heroes, 
 and statesmen. Among them was one of Queen Elizabeth, 
 executed with admirable reality and life, and dressed, as I 
 was told, in garments which she had worn. The figure is tall 
 and commanding ; but the face is imperious and forbiding, 
 the complexion bad, and the hair is coarse and carroty. I 
 was delighted to find this evidence that tlie beauty on which 
 she prided herself, and which she was fain to place in compe- 
 tition with that of her persecuted and murdered rival, had no 
 existence save in her own vanity, and the -base flattery of 
 sycophants and courtiers. 
 
 Here is also a similar statue, which I gazed on with very 
 different feelings. It is that of Nelson, taken from the life, 
 dressed in his own clothes, and fresh with the hues of health, 
 
278 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 On the glass case are those words in which the hero gave 
 utterance to his aspirations, previous to that battle which 
 closed his splendid career — " Victory or Westminster Abbey !'* 
 I know not why they should have been placed there, unless 
 to show that, from whatever motive, his last behest had not 
 been held sacred. 
 
 In another part of the Abbey is an efflgy of like execution, re- 
 presenting Charles I. in the robes which he was wont to wear 
 at Windsor, at the installation of the knights of the Garter. 
 It bespeaks the same genius, the same amiability, the same 
 mournfulness, the same presentiment of melancholy and mis- 
 fortune to come, which characterize those noble portraits of 
 Vandyke, who seems, as it were, to have shadowed forth in 
 anticipation the fate of his illustrious patron. How sorrow- 
 ful is the nature of those feelings which are awakened by the 
 contemplation of this countenance, in whomsoever has a 
 heart to admire genius or to pity misfortune ! Brave, gener- 
 ous, talented, courteous, full of tenderness and romantic de- 
 votion to the gentler sex, Charles, with all the nobler and 
 better qualities of Mary Stuart, was a stranger to her vices. 
 Yet, like her, he died on the scaffold ; though, in his case, 
 popular violence, and not the jealousy and feigned dread of a 
 rival, aimed the blow. 
 
 Among the objects of curiosity preserved in Westminster 
 Abbey are the famed Doom's-day book, and the stone brought 
 from Scone, with the regalia of Scotland, by the first Ed- 
 ward, and reputed to be that veritable pillow on which Jacob 
 reclined during the night when his sleep was so disturbed by 
 terrifying visions. Perhaps there could scarce be devised a 
 surer provocation to dreams, than a pillow such as this. My 
 own tastes led me, however, rather to dwell upon the beauty 
 or associated interest of the monuments and the eloquence of 
 the inscriptions, than to attend to the claims of these vener- 
 able representatives of a remote antic uity. The circum* 
 
lONDON. 279 
 
 stances, however, under which the Abbey is seen, are not 
 very favourable to the indulgence of those feelings which 
 almost every object is suited to awaken. Whoever has 
 visited Westminster Abbey, will bear witness with me to the 
 annoyauce and disgust which are awakened in the mind by 
 the low slang, the unintelligible jargon, the grotesc^ue and 
 cockney commentaries of the mercenary and degraded show- 
 men, disturbing as they do perpetually, the current of gentle 
 thought and melancholy musings. 
 
 Many pieces of sculpture here possess great beauty. 
 Among those which arrested my attention, I was most struck 
 with one by Roubillac. It represents a beautiful lady repos- 
 ing in the arms of her husband, while Death is seen starting 
 from the half-open lid of a -sarcophaghus beneath, grasping 
 in his skeleton hand a dart, which he directs to the heart of 
 his victim. Her spirit seems to fade at the approach of the 
 unerring weapon. The husband, overcome with dismay, in 
 vain clasps her in an affectionate embrace, which is yet pow- 
 erless to protect her from the grim King of Terrors, whose 
 whole figure expresses a singular ruthlessness, energy, and 
 exultation, which the sculptor, with inconceivable and per- 
 [)lexing art, has been able to infuse into a mere fleshless 
 skeleton. 
 
 Tiiere are also two statues by Chantrey, one of Canning, the 
 other of Watt, the engineer, which conveyed to me an idea of 
 the genius of that artist very different from, and very superior 
 to, that which I had formed from his statue of Washington, in 
 which he has treated the grandest subject that ever fell into 
 his hands, whether we consider the history and character of 
 the individual, or the nobleness of his form and features, with- 
 out genius or skill. Canova's conception of the hero was of 
 a far different character. There is something god-like and 
 sublime in his noble creation, at once honourable to Canova, 
 and worthy of Washington. 
 
280 -THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 There was one circumstance which struck me as extra- 
 ordinary, as I loitered through the aisles, and tliis was the fre- 
 quent evidence of recent mutilation. This is particularly- 
 noticeable in the monument to the memory of Major Andre. 
 There are a number of bas-reliefs about it, which have been 
 purposely injured, the nose been broken from most of the 
 figures. If it had been an old monument, dating previous to 
 the Commonwealth, the origin and cause of this destruction 
 would have been sufficiently obvious; for Cromwell's fol- 
 lowers, in their double capacity of Presbyterians and plebeians, 
 had an equal horror for images of all sorts, and for whatever 
 they might conceive to be either idolatrous or aristocratic ; 
 wherever they passed they dealt largely in mutilation, and 
 were as fatal to marble noses as some diseases are to real ones. 
 This monument of Andre, however, is of our own times. 
 There was nothing in his fate to excite other sentiments than 
 those of pity, and the mutilation of his monument can only be 
 taken as an evidence of a popular propensity for destruction. 
 
 It is in the Poet's Corner, however, that the pilgrim's foot- 
 steps most fondly linger. It is there that his eyes — haply, not 
 unsuffiised with tears — trace and retrace names and study 
 lineaments connected with his sublimest and tenderest asso- 
 ciations, until at length his fancy almost places him in com- 
 munion with the idols of his imagination. In no place, per- 
 haps, is the sentiment of gratitude so nobly awakened as in 
 this ; a gratitude which is not onerous, which calls for no re- 
 turn but itself, which is freely rendered as a fit tribute for un- 
 alloyed pleasures, for happy hours, and endearing associations, 
 for accessions of ideas which we could never have invented 
 ourselves, and which yet became henceforth and for ever our 
 own. 
 
 It is no bold assertion, no childish dealing in extravagant 
 and unfounded superlatives, to say, that no place in the world 
 is capable of recalling so many associations, connected with 
 
LONDON. 2S5 
 
 whatever is most godlike in human genius. Supposing each 
 country to have — as it has not — a like hallowed receptacle for 
 the remains of its most honoured children, yet which other of 
 modem times can boast such a name as that of Shakspeare ? — 
 Where shall we look for the counterpart of the divine Milton ? 
 — Where else for the god-like and intuitive perception of the 
 secrets of nature, — for a genius so nearly kindred to that 
 which created it, — as that which characterized Newton, who, 
 in the words of his epitaph — '' first solved, on principles of 
 his own, the figure and motions of the planets, the paths of 
 comets, the ebbing and flowing of the sea, the nature of light, 
 and the real character of the colours which arise from it, and 
 by his philosophy maintained the dignity of the Supreme 
 Being ?" — How great reason have not mortals to pride them- 
 selves in the existence of such an ornament of their race !" 
 
 The monuments of the Poet's Comer are blackened by time 
 and the intrusion of an impure atmosphere ; but the memory 
 of those to whom they are sacred is still and will ever be 
 green in the hearts of their countrymen — of their countrymen 
 on either side the ocean, whose intervening depths have no 
 power to modify the common sentiment of love ; and their 
 fame, instead of being consigned to the sole keeping of those 
 who dwell within the narrow circuit of this little yet most 
 renowned isle, is fast spreading itself over the boundless re- 
 gions of a vast continent, whose population are equally its 
 guardians ; the preservers alike of that which they wrote, and 
 of the language in which it was written ; who are imbued 
 with their sentiments, and have been ennobled by their inspira- 
 tions ; at whose firesides their busts take their place beside 
 those of a Washington and a Franklin, the patriots who have 
 bequeathed freedom to the land, and are enrolled among the 
 household gods of a people whose homage and admiration are 
 not frittered away in sentiments of indiscriminating loyalty 
 to kings and princes, but reserved in their integrity, to be of- 
 
2S2 THE AMERICAN IN ENC^LAND. 
 
 fered as an undivided and undegraded tribute at the shrine of 
 heroiBm and genius. 
 
 There was one parting regret with which I took leave of 
 Westminster Abbey. I had seen many names there which 
 had never seen before, and which I ceased to remember ere I 
 liad left the cloisters ; but I looked in vain for the familiar and 
 honoured one of the chancellor Bacon. 
 
 In a quiet street of the more aristocratic region of London, 
 is the well-known den of a great publishing lion. No gilded 
 sign, no obtrusive placards hung flauntingly in the street, are 
 seen to catch the eye of passing stranger, and exercise their 
 eloquence in converting him into a customer. A brass plate 
 on the door alone announces a name familiar to title-pages, 
 and connected in the mind with much that is most valuable in 
 the literature of the age. Within this door a long room is 
 seen, with well-filled shelves- of books on either hand. A 
 counter of polished oak on the left is strewn with reviews, 
 elegantly printed prospectuses of forthcoming works, or beauti- 
 ful volumes of tempting aspect, which announce the last 
 triumphs of the press. Behind this a single clerk is seen en- 
 gaged with his accounts, while in the obscurity beyond, a 
 plodding shopman is busy, preparing boxes and parcels to be 
 despatched to country customers by coach or van, and carry 
 the latest edification or amusement to aristocratic halls, or 
 the rural retreats of the curious and the intelligent. 
 
 So much may be discovered by whoever may wish to be- 
 come the purchaser of a book. He who may have claims or 
 courage to penetrate beyond, will discover a green door hav- 
 ing a small glass peep-hole, concealed by a taffeta curtain of 
 the same colour, and intended to reconnoitre indigent authors 
 and pertinacious men of genius, the ponderous producers of 
 voluminous epics, who, after years passed in dreams of im- 
 mortality, and in the confidence of assimilation to a Shak- 
 speare and a Milton, begin, at the end of an hour's attendance 
 
LONDON. 285 
 
 in the anteroom of the literary accoucheur, first to doubt the 
 excellence of tlieir embryo, and go away at length, sunk from 
 their high estate, and bursting with choler and vexation, at 
 'loing told that what has cost them so many pangs is not 
 
 worthy to be brought into the world. 
 Perliaps there is not in the wide world an object more piti- 
 
 'ble than the self-imagined man of genius, when thus rudely 
 awakened from his delusion. Jf a sense of power and a con- 
 viction of superiority be indeed, as is said to be the case, the 
 common concomitant of genius, a modest diffidence and doubt 
 is ({uite as usual a one. The first, indeed, is often attended 
 by a prurient imagination, undirected by good taste, or an 
 effervescence and pseudo poetry of feeling, unaided by any 
 day-spring of ideas. When such a man arouses from his 
 dream of god-like genius at the rude touch of the publisher's 
 pencil, — scratching upon his manuscript the damnatory sen- 
 tence — " Not of a description suited to tlie taste of the day — " 
 or — "Mr. Blank, being much engaged, declines publishing," — 
 to the waking conviction, that instead of an inspired and im- 
 mortal poet, he is only a miserable rhymer ; and that he has 
 wasted in the production of lame and limping verses the time 
 that with security of profit might have been advantageously 
 
 nployed in the casting up of accounts, — liis situation must 
 
 I' miserable indeed. 
 
 The individual who, carried forward by his own impudence, 
 or freely admitted, reaches the inner sanctuary beyond this 
 mysterious door, discovers a small neat room with a few ne- 
 cessary articles of furniture; two or three chairs and a wri- 
 ting-table, whose pigeon-holes are stuffed with blotted manu- 
 scripts, a few elegant volumes, and some costly engravings, 
 the meditated embellishments of forth-coming works. If the 
 lion should not have disappeared by some one of the various 
 sally-ports, invented for the purpose of escape from unwel- 
 
 ome visitation, but be found in his den, the visitor beholds 
 
^?Qe, THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND; 
 
 himself, face to face, with an individual slightly touched by 
 time, yet firm and elastic in his step, and with an air of acti- 
 vity and health ; neat in his dress, of a gentlemanlike appear- 
 ance, polished manners, and as much fluency of speech as falls 
 commonly to the lot of his countrymen ; and he is not sorry 
 to have the opportunity of an interview with one, who has 
 been the best patron of literature in an age teeming with 
 literary production ; to whose promptings and liberality we 
 are perhaps indebted for some of the noblest productions of 
 our or of any times ; who, wresting patronage from the hands 
 of nobility, became himself nobility's patron : and who, stand- 
 ing between the public and the author, became the director of 
 a bounty so much more valuable than that of princes, the 
 bounty of the public. 
 
 Perhaps it may even be the lot of our visitor to penetrate to 
 the apartments above, and to admire, with no common feel- 
 ing of pleasure, the choice collection of manuscripts and let- 
 ters, the originals of those which have attracted so much in- 
 terest, and of whatever is most valuable in literature, there 
 interspersed with noble portraits of some of its modem pro- 
 ducers — men who have almost monopolized the attention of 
 the age which they honoured, and who were the frequent 
 breathers of this literary atmosphere, which their presence has 
 consecrated. They who have had the opportunity of knowing 
 will tell you, moreover, that these precincts, which genius has 
 hallowed, are still the not unfrequent resort of such choice 
 spirits as remain, and that the feast of reason thf re celebrated, 
 is not the less so for being blended with banqueting of a more 
 substantial character. 
 
DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND* 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND. 
 
 Leave London. Spread Eagle Coach. Road to Dover. Steamer. Voyage. 
 Fellow-travellers. Disembarkation. Hotel Quillacq. Comparison of France 
 and England. Conclusion. 
 
 The period of my leaving England came upon me very sud- 
 denly, and with little previous intimation. I received, on the 
 first day of the new year, a note from the amiable and intelli- 
 gent young friend, who, at an age inferior to my own, so 
 creditably filled the important station of our diplomatic agent 
 at St. James's, requesting me to charge myself with despatches 
 for our Minister in Madrid, containing his new powers ac- 
 crediting him to the government which had succeeded that of 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 The civil war which has continued with such disastrous 
 fury to rage in the north of Spain, since the accession of Isa- 
 bella II., had already commenced. The ordinary communica- 
 tions were intercepted on the direct route for some distance 
 beyond the French frontier ; couriers were perpetually inter- 
 rupted, and despoiled of their papers ; and the latest gazettes 
 brought intelligence of the detention and maltreatment of a 
 French Secretary of Legation, his escort having been fired into. 
 There were daily accounts of forays, charges, and loss of life, 
 without much attention to the claims and immunities of stran- 
 gers to the quarrel, even when they happened to be recog- 
 nised. The service was then one of some difficulty, which, as 
 an officer of the government, familiar, moreover, with the lan- 
 guage and manners of the country to be traversed, I did not 
 feel at liberty to decline. 
 
 I had, to be sure, a conscientious wish, growing out of some 
 
286 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 perseverance or obstinacy of disposition, by whichever name 
 the quality may be dignified, to acquit myself of the literary 
 undertaking which had brought me to England, however dis- 
 tasteful it had already become to me ; still, the alacrity with 
 which I undertook the service proposed to me, the pleasure 
 and return of cheerfulness, to which I had long been a stran- 
 ger, with which I hurried through the various preparations 
 consequent upon so sudden a change of purpose, and the un- 
 disguised and overflowing joy with which I took my seat the 
 very next morning in the Spread Eagle coach for Dover, with 
 a charge of some importance upon my mind, an immediate 
 motive for exertion to arouse me from my stupor, all convinc- 
 ed me that, treacherous as was the feeling to the purpose 
 tvhich had brought me from my home, I was not sorry to es- 
 cape from that merry England, which to me, at least, had 
 proved to be otherwise, and to have the sunny Spain gleaming 
 brightly in my recollection, as the end and object of my 
 journey. 
 
 Our coach at starting was surrounded by the customary 
 venders of knives, pencils, newspapers, and maps of the road, 
 not forgetting the eloquent Hibernian who held up Hood's 
 Comic Annual, with the solemn assurance that it would make 
 us laugh the whole way to Dover. My fellow-passengers 
 within consisted of a Scotch lady and her son, who were 
 going to reside at Honfleur, and a young Anglo-Frenclmian 
 from Mauritius, just turned adrift in the world, without any 
 superfluity of ballast, and wlio had a famous scar on one side 
 of his nose, which sufficiently indicated that he was of an ad- 
 venturous disposition. 
 
 As far as Gravesend the road was the same which I had 
 traversed on my first journey in England. Towards Rochester 
 the country lost its kncl character, and became more broken 
 and picturesque than any that I had yet seen in England. 
 The Iiills were higher, and more boldly undulated; and nl- 
 
DEPARTURE B-BOH ENGLAND. 287 
 
 though the soil was only two or three feet deep, reposing, 
 wherever it was revealed beneath the surface, on a bed of 
 chalk, yet it was every where in a high state of cultivation, 
 and, where left in grass, still beautifully verdant. 
 
 Ascending a hill we came, at the summit, in sight of Ro- 
 chester, charmingly situated on the Medway, which is here a 
 considerable arm of the sea, navigable for coasting vessels, of 
 which there were a number, with their sails loosed to dry, in 
 the harbour. A fine stone bridge traversed the stream, and 
 above it, on the bank beyond, were seen the crumbling battle- 
 ments of an ancient Norman castle. Out of the heart of the 
 town rose the tall roof of the cathedral, which is of Gothic 
 construction and of great antiquity. As we crossed the bridge 
 and rattled down the main street, we passed numbers of the 
 officers in garrison, tall, dashing, well-dressed fellows, who, 
 beset with listlessness, were eyeing the young women from 
 the various corners and crossing-places, and meditating mis- 
 chief for others and amusement for themselves. One sea- 
 lieutenant, whose tarnished epaulet and buttons told of poverty 
 and salt water, came rolling down the street with a noble 
 lump of a wife in tow on his arm. It was an illustration of 
 the difference between the soldier and sailor, and the decided 
 ]iropensity of the last to be caught, especially when he comes 
 ashore after a long cruise, and find himself, at the sight of the 
 first woman, irresistibly beset by the pleasing idea of having 
 a wife of his own. 
 
 At the last relay before reaching Canterbury there was a 
 curious, though not a very interesting spectacle, at the inn door. 
 Immediately in front of it lay a drunken soldier of the forty- 
 sixth regiment, wallowing in the dirt, and without power to 
 recover his legs. His red coat, and pipe-clayed belts, which 
 bore the marks of recent good keeping, wero sadly smeared 
 with mud. In the midst of his abortive efforts to move his 
 bpdy, his tongue ran glibly enough, recounting the history of 
 
288 THfiJ AMERICAN IN ENGLAND. 
 
 his regimemt, and telling how he was going on furlough. The 
 landlady, being very much scandalized, was very anxious that 
 he should take the benefit of his leave and set forward imme- 
 diately, and encouraged, with this motive, a benevolent, 
 young rifleman, who was endeavouring to aid him, with the 
 promise, should he succeed, of what would have made him 
 as glorious as his comrade. One of our passengers, who 
 seemed to be knowing in these matters, called from the top of 
 the coach to give him some mustard. There was something 
 irresistibly ludicrous in the demurrer of the drunken man, who, 
 with a knowing squint, rejected the prescription — "Mustard, 
 eh! mustard! as much liquor as you like, but no mustard!" 
 Meantime, all the village urchins had gathered about, and 
 were looking on observingly. They were dressed in breeches 
 and yarn stockings, or leggings, and had a very old-fashioned 
 look. 
 
 After a bad dinner, eaten in a great hurry, at Canterbury, 
 we set forward, and reached Dover at eight o'clock, descend- 
 ing a sufficiently precipitous road, through a ravine, which at 
 this place interrupts the perpendicular character of the lofty 
 cliflPs beneath which Dover is situated. Having taken a cup 
 of tea at the inn which the coach stopped at, and which, con- 
 sidered as an English inn, was not particularly good, I strol- 
 led forth to look at the piers, the basin, and whatever else 
 might be discovered in a dark and gusty night. 
 
 At five o'clock we were all roused in readiness to take the 
 packet for Calais. Soon after the steward came, with the 
 message that we might make ourselves quiet for a couple of 
 hours, as the tide would not serve until seven. Some of the 
 passengers addressed themselves to the business of getting 
 breakfast, while I set about writing a letter. Suddenly 
 we were told that the packet was casting off, and 
 would be at sea in a moment. " Six shillings and sixpence ;" 
 cried the landlord ; *' Waiter, sir ! waiter !"-— " Boots, sir ! if 
 
DEftAJRXURE FBOM ENGLAND. 289 
 
 you please, boots i"— " Please don't forget the chambermaid, 
 sir!" said a pretty, smiling girl, stretching forth her hand 
 and naked, well-rounded arm. 
 
 In other moods, this last might have been a redeeming? cir- 
 cumstance ; but in the midst of the confusion of coUecti... ef- 
 fects, attending to those demands which were not to be redist- 
 ed, as the appellants placed themselves in the road, anxiety 
 to bundle one's self into the steamer, and apprehensions of be- 
 ing left, it was only an additional annoyance. When I reach- 
 ed the pier the steamer had swung her bow off, and had given 
 one preparatory snort ere she set herself in motion. A des- 
 perate leap carried me on to her quarter, and on looking 
 round, I was made happy in discovering that my household 
 gods, portmanteau, bag, and hat-case, were all around me. 
 Not so the Anglo-Frenchman, who, ere long, became aware 
 that he had parted company with an enormous chest, which 
 had already occasioned him much annoyance, and wliich con- 
 tained, as he said, forty shirts to begin. The youth bore the 
 deprivation with a philosophic placidity, that papa, had he 
 been there, might not have participated in. 
 
 In a minute after, we had passed the pier-head, and were 
 at sea in the open Channel. This was an artificial harbour 
 excavated into the open coast, and when we had passed the 
 tide-light at the pier-head, without prelude of any sort, we 
 commenced rolling forthwith. The wind was strong from the 
 south-west, and the jib and foresail were set, to help along 
 and steady her ; still the motion was short, quick, lurching, 
 and intolerably disagreeable. 
 
 The day had not yet dawned; it was squally with passing 
 rain, and a gale which strengthened each instant as we left 
 the shelter of the coast. Shakspeare's Cliffs, and the opposite 
 eminence crowned by the old Castle of Dover, overhung us 
 for a brief interval, while, in either direction, the frowning 
 
 N 
 
^90 THB Al^ERICAN IST EN&LAND. 
 
 and inhospital;)le coast migfht be discovered for a short dis- 
 tance through the gloom, while northward were seen two 
 enormous lights, looming out like rival suns, shining porten- 
 tously through a fog on the Banks of Newfoundland. 
 
 Presently we discovered a large ship standing for the shore, 
 which was not half-a-mile distant. One of the sailors re-as- 
 ,;i ved me, however, concerning her position, by telling me 
 that there was no danger while the lights were in sight. The 
 moment they were shut in, it would be time to tack. In a 
 few minutes more the coast, the Cliffs, and Castle had equall3'' 
 disappeared. Nothing of the land was seen except the two 
 looming lights, and the only other object visible was our little 
 steamer, fretting and plunging through the agitated sea, and 
 emitting a black smoke, more dismal than the frowning clouds 
 above, and which, scattered furiously by the wind, soon hast- 
 ened to mingle with them. 
 
 If the scene without were wild and temfic, that within 
 was ludicrous and disgusting. The passengers, a few minutes 
 before replete with life and activity, and taken up with earn- 
 est attention to their effects, were now stretched lifeless, 
 some below, others on deck, heedless of spray or rain, in the 
 presence of a more overwhelming calamity ; all, however, 
 whether above or below, were equally provided with basins 
 by fellows whose daily business it seemed to be to distributi 
 them. The provocative to sea-sickness appeared, naturally 
 enough, to be in almost every instance irresistible. Tlie cool- 
 ness and system with which this thing was done was really 
 chilling ; and I fled at each approach of a basin-bearer — offer- 
 ing his commodity as if he were handing about refreshments 
 — ^with mortal apprehension. 
 
 Among the passengers were many young ladies completely 
 overcome, drifting from side to side, abandoned by their com- 
 panions, and receiving scant courtesy from the crew, to whom 
 the spectacle was neither novel nor heart-rending. Among 
 
PBFARXUBK FROM BN6LAND, 291 
 
 the various persons thus sorely discouraged at the outset of 
 their travels, I noticed an immense young lubber more than 
 six feet high, who was done up in various water-proof cape, 
 cloaks, and comforters, apparently provided lor tiiis very 
 emergency. I never saw a more abortive pt'isoiiification of 
 comfort. 
 
 A more sentimental and less sick companion of liin, talked 
 to him in the interval of his own spasms, concejning the j)ic- 
 turesque grandeur of the scene, and the wild agitation o' the 
 elements. He presently added, as a consolatory salvo- -'" You 
 are too sick, however, to enjoy fine scenery." The stont lub- 
 ber, thus taunted, presently picked himself up, and began 
 stumbling about in search of the picturesque, on two long aiu 
 formidable supporters, which would have been doubtL^ss more 
 at home on either side of a hunter. His efforts to stalk about, 
 now grabbing the shrouds, now the funnel, anon a stout wo- 
 man, adrift like himself, were about as successfully abortive 
 as the movements of a chicken with its head cut off. At last 
 he let go his hold of the screaming woman, gave up the jjur- 
 suit of the picturesque, and made himself comfortable in the 
 lee scuppers. 
 
 A few awful hours, which made up an age of misery, 
 brought us in sight of the French coast, and of a bark which 
 seemed to have a signal of distress up. This very neighbour- 
 hood is at this season the yearly scene of many shipwrecks, 
 attended not unfrequently with deplorable loss of lilo. To our 
 great annoyance the tide was out, and we were obliged to 
 anchor, at the distance of a mile or two from the coast. Thp 
 town of Calais loomed out through the storm. Two )iol ]y 
 constructed quays stretched from the port, in which the ves- 
 sels lay aground far seaward. The extremities of these were 
 covered with people, while others wandered along the strand, 
 seeking for whatever remnants of wrecked vessels or ruined 
 cargoes the tide might have have left there. A belfry on tht: 
 
292 THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND, 
 
 end of the quay seemed placed there to ring an alarm and to 
 call for succour, in the event of any signal of distress from 
 seaward. 
 
 Ere long a number of stout boats put off to disembark us. 
 Every one^ short as had been our voyage, sighed to enjoy the 
 wished-for land as earnestly as the tempest-tossed iEneas. I 
 was anxious to secure a place in the mail, having an object of 
 importance which precluded me from being ceremonious, and 
 therefore dashed in forthwith. Many followed; among them 
 a lady, who, being nearly separated from her party, watf 
 dragged in by her companion, while the boatman, pronouncing 
 their boat already overladen, attempted to resist it, she vi- 
 brating half overboard on the gunwale. We were a conftised 
 heap of passengers and portmanteaus, some of the first aef 
 lifeless as the last. One stout young fellow, having mustered 
 strength to escape from the scene of his tortures, lay down as 
 dead. 
 
 Some young Englishmen, commencing already the business 
 of abuse, which was to be the chief occupation of those 
 travels which they were about to begin, exercised their re- 
 turning sensibilities in ridiculing our boatmen. Perhaps they 
 did not Handle their oars quite so skilfully as Englishmen 
 would have done, and it might, moreover, be objected, that 
 they ir.ade more noise than was necessary. To blame them 
 for chatting was to blame them for being Frenchmen. Yet 
 they were cheerful in their toil, which was something, and 
 their shouts were shouts of encouragement. — " Tirez, /nes ew 
 fans! tirez! dotcblez le point !'' This was not so easily said 
 as done. The tide ran ojit as furiously as the breakers came 
 in. Though the men on the quay waved to us perpetually, in- 
 dicating the deepest water, yet we repeatedly grounded 
 astern, our bow would be swept out by the tide, and the 
 broadside coming round to the breakers, they would come over 
 us most refreshingly for a January day. I had about two 
 
DBPARTrrRE ITROM 15N€^LAND. ?93 
 
 barrels full to my share, and it was quite enough to render me 
 comfortably moist. 
 
 At length, some men on the beach, prompted by a charitable 
 benevolence, for which I thanked them from the bottom of 
 my heart, bethought themselves to send off a buoy and line to 
 us. This being attached to our bow, we were quickly drawn 
 upon the beach ; and a precious draught of drenched and sea- 
 sick sinners it was. As the boat would not come up high and 
 dry, we were obliged to be carried on shore by the fishermen, 
 who waded off to uSj two carrying a lady in their locked 
 arms, and one a man, mounted as on horseback. Our young 
 hero of the manifold caps and waterproofs, whether scorning 
 to be carried by a Frenchman, or dreading the imposition 
 which, under circumstances of similar necessity, would 
 have been practised in his own country, or taking counsel of 
 his manhood alone, boldly stepped into the sea, and marched 
 forward with the faith of Peter. 
 
 The beach presented a singular scene. The spectacle of wet 
 luggage, and soaked, sea-sick, chop-fallen passengers, was 
 most deplorable. Not one of all the rescued but looked as 
 though he had been recently indebted for resuscitation to the 
 apparatus of the Humane Society. Such shawls, such bon- 
 nets, such watered silks, and such dishevelled hair ! — above 
 all, such whiskers ! A whisker, when in itsJiighest feather, 
 and in all the pomp and pride of pommade, and of cire, and 
 of consummate keeping, is assuredly a thing to be admired. — 
 But what spectacle is there so deplorable as your drowned, 
 — your crest-fallen, — your dejected whisker ? When I looked 
 round, indeed, on the whiskered faces about me, and remem- 
 bered my own destitution, I was disposed to feel any thing 
 but envious. 
 
 The strange people among whom we had made so i ndigni- 
 fied an entry, were also in some measure objects of curious at- 
 tention. The phlegm of the other side of the channe) had (l\^' 
 
294 THE AMBRtOAN IN BNCFLAND. 
 
 appeared in the coarse of a few hours. Every thing was done 
 with much noise and controversy, accompanied by earnest 
 gestures and almost frantic cries. Here, too, the national 
 drollery and sense of ridicule began already to assert itself, 
 among these uncultivated fishermen, one of whom, looking at 
 our tall worthy, who was no less extraordinary on shore than 
 he had proved himself afloat, pronounced thus prematurely a 
 verdict of absurdity, which was sure to be confirmed by the 
 more enlightened judgment of the Boulevards and the terrace 
 of the Tulleries — *^ CoTrvmei ilest drole, C9 gros gaiUard !^* 
 
 There was much to admire in the conduct of the crowd.— 
 They were not troublesome, obtrusive of their services, vexa- 
 tions, of mercenary, and indications of intemperance were 
 nowhere to be seen. The man who carried me on shore, in- 
 stead of stipulating for half a guinea, when midway from the 
 boat to land, under penalty of depositing me, could not b© 
 found soon after to receive his compensation. The Dotianiers, 
 though firm and dignified, incapable of any low and vulgar 
 tackling or accessibility to bribery, were yet most civil and 
 obliging, yielding their personal aid in protecting and trans- 
 porting the luggage to the custom-house. Every functionary 
 vied in courtesy ; so that when I had been to the post-oflBce 
 to secure my place in the Malle, I traversed the ancient Place 
 d'ames of this famous old city, and entered the Hotel de Quil- 
 lacq with a cheerfulness and gaietd de cmur to which I had long 
 been a stranger. 
 
 The inn was an extensive quadrangle, with a porte cochere 
 and an open courtyard. At one side was the remise, well 
 filled with britskas and travelling carriages. A chariot, 
 covered with a profusion of boxes, hat-casw, and leathern con- 
 veniences was drawn up at the foot of the principal stair- way, 
 and Quillacq in person had just closed the door upon some 
 people of rank who had that moment entered. Two postillions, 
 each conducting a pair of stout, stubborn, serviceable-looking 
 
DEPAnTTfRV FROM SNC^IAND^ ^l» 
 
 horses, and whose graiety, fti sympathy with th6ir livel;^ 
 livery, seemed in the inverse ratio of the heaviness of their 
 boots, now cracked their whips and set forward with many 
 shouts. Quillacq bowed low, and the great personages having 
 departed, made room for the humbler to take their place. 
 
 My room was neatly and tastefully furnished, and the 
 French bed had a very tempting look to one long cut O'fr from 
 its comforts. But there were other and more interesting 
 cares. It was past noon, and as yet I had not eaten; so 
 changing my dress, I descended without unnecessary loss of 
 time to the coifee-room. It was quite plain and uncarpeted; 
 a wood iire burnt in a Franklin stove at the farther comer ; 
 the chairs were of the simplest form ; a few engravings orna- 
 mented the walls ; while through frequent windows on street 
 or courtyard, God's light streamed in in untaxed abundance. 
 
 I rang the bell with a hasty and energetic jerk, suited to 
 convey the idea of a hungry man. " Voila Monsieur!" said 
 Ihe waiter, overflowing with alacrity. I set forth the nature 
 and urgency of my wants, with sober truth and earnestness, 
 and with the eloquence that was in my feelings, and which, 
 ere long, was productive of comfortable results. Meantime, 
 1 meditated upon the land which I had left, and that in which 
 I had arrived. It is impossible to deny that in many of the 
 nobler points of character, the English greatly excel their 
 more mercurial neighbours. Without assuming their alleged 
 superiority in one particular, intimately connected with the 
 well-being of society, namely, female virtue, there are many 
 others in which their advantage is undoubted. In the matter 
 of patriotism and public probity, for instance, where would 
 you look in France for such a man as Lord Althorp, now Earl 
 Spencer, and where for individuals or parties capable of ap- 
 preciating him ? A man who, endowed simply with plain 
 good sense, and right judgment seeking its dictates in the 
 counselling of an honest heart, possessing no superiority of 
 
296 THE AMERICAN IN ENGfLAND. 
 
 genius, and unaided by any power of eloquence, was yet able 
 creditably to fill the station which a Pit and a Fox had 
 illustrated by the brilliancy of their talents, and to carry 
 with him on all occasions a weight, an influence, and an ad- 
 hesion, such as his illustrious predecessors could not often 
 command, — a man whose sole power consisted in the un- 
 bounded confidence yielded by his countrymen, to the recti- 
 tude of his intentions and the probity of his character. 
 
 Such a man in a French Chamber would have been a ganache 
 and dJ' farceur, or at best a pauvre homme. There, on the 
 contrary, the high places are filled by men of brilliant genius, 
 subtle in intrigue, and expert in delusion. If you compare 
 Lord Althorp with Thiers, you have a just measure of the value 
 attached to public virtue and integrity in the two countries ; 
 the first such as we have described him ; the second sacrificing 
 every thing and everybody to his own advancement, and im- 
 moveably strong in the possession of ofiice, at a time when he 
 was suspected of having used the political knowledge confer- 
 red by his station, and the secrets of the telegraph, for stock- 
 jobbing purposes and the rearing of his own fortune. Whether 
 the accusation were true or false is of no importance. It shows 
 that the thing was possible and susceptible to belief; the sus- 
 picion alone in England would have driven a public man into 
 infamous and irrecoverable retreat. One circumstance alone 
 is sufficient to give the measure of political honour and public 
 probity in France ; the fact that Frenchmen have been capable 
 of believing in the base and mercenary peculation of a king, 
 whom, by a spontaneous feeling, they chose to reign over 
 them as the mirror Of every princely virtue. The confidence 
 which an honourable man must feel in his own integrity, will 
 ever make him slow to doubt the integrity of others. 
 
 If, however, the better classes in England excel those which 
 correspond in France, in- many noble virtues essential to the 
 stability and happiness of a state, the comparison ceases to 
 
DKPARTCrRlt FROM ENGLAND. 297 
 
 be advantageous as you descend to the inferior conditi-^ns of 
 life. In France the lower classes are found to be sober, honest, 
 civil, courteous, actuated by a genuine sense of politeness, in- 
 gtead of being characterized by every vicious propensity, and 
 taking pleasure in the exhibition of a gratuitous brutality. 
 The reason of this difference is obvious enough. Regeneratf^d 
 by their revolution, relieved from the odious distinctions and 
 the oppressive burdens by which they were 'le-^raded and 
 crushed, the French have won for themselves that equality, 
 which, as it is the dearest want, is also the most ennobling 
 attribute of our nature. 
 
 In addition to the pervading courtesy of the lower classes, 
 there are other circumstances which not a little contribute to 
 make the condition of the passing stranger pleasing in France. 
 It is the amiable philosophy of the land to enjoy each paasi) g 
 moment ; to make the most of every means of gratification 
 that accident scatters in the way ; to contribute to the plt-vi- 
 sure of those whom chance casts, however momentarily, be- 
 side one, as a means of promoting one's own. Hence, in ?\i- 
 tering a French diligence or taking one's seat at a table d'hote, 
 instead of forbidding frowns, or at best a silence, eloquent of 
 ill-nature, one is greeted by kind words and smiles, and de- 
 lighted by the amiable attention to those little courtesies and 
 trifling kindnesses, which, however inconsiderable in them- 
 selves, contribute, in no slight degree, to make up the hap- 
 piness of life. 
 
 But one of the most pleasing contrasts is in the matter of 
 meals. Every thing that this important subject embraces in 
 France, is civilised and unexceptionable : the hours every- 
 where uniform, and neither too early nor too late ; instead of 
 the seclusion of one's separate corner, the social feeling, and 
 the well-bred conviviality of the common table ; the solitary 
 beafsteak with its attendant potatoes, replaced by the abun- 
 N 5 
 
298 THE AMERICAN IN ENe^LANP. 
 
 dant variety which results from the spirit of combination ; but, 
 above all the stupid roast and boiled, the miserable turnips 
 and the cabbages— that my pen should write the hatefiil word ! 
 — substituted by the noblest triumphs of our modem civi- 
 lization, the triumphs of the French kitchen. Where, in 
 England, could my complacent eyes have reposed upon such 
 tempting mutton cutlets, such a dainty omelette, such rich 
 cafe au lait, as now greeted my delighted vision in the 
 Hotel Quillacq ? But perhaps the most eloquent eulogimn 
 that one can pass on a charming breakfast, is to do justice to its 
 attractions fork in hand. Besides, it is past twelve ; we have 
 been toiling all day ; exposed to the peltings of the pitiless 
 storm, and moistened with salt water as well as fresh. With 
 your leave, therefore, kind reader ! let us say adieu I 
 
 In conclusion it may be proper here to state, that the Writer 
 returned to England, some months subsequent to the period 
 to which the foregoing pages refer, that he travelled, with far 
 greater gratification than on his previous visit, extensively 
 over the United Kingdom, keeping notes of whatever he saw ; 
 the very extent of which might, had not this essay already 
 satisfied him, alone deter him from the task of preparing them 
 for the press, though relating simply to matters that came 
 under his observation as an ordinary traveller, and not in any 
 instance to dinners, balls, or drawing-rooms, or any scenes of 
 a [rivate nature, to which the courtesy and kindness of those 
 to whom he became known procured him admission. 
 
 He would not wish to relieve himself of the debt of grati- 
 tude thus imposed upon him by so cheap a recognition, and 
 his vanity is not of the sort to be gratified by the accidental 
 association of illustrious names. Yet he cannot help regret- 
 
CONCLUSION. 299 
 
 ting that his sense of propriety, and of what is due to the 
 privacy of families whose hospitality submitted them to his 
 observation, — and which, from being elevated, are not there- 
 fore excluded from the claims to remain sacred from being 
 dragged into public exhibition, to gratify the small pride of a 
 book-maker, or the prurient curiosity of such as may seek to 
 become well-bred by external imitation rather than by cherish- 
 ing elevation and nobleness of sentiment within themselves, — 
 should prevent him from drawing pictures of domestic life 
 alike creditable to the individuals and the coimtry to which 
 they belong, and of a state of society characterized by intel- 
 ligence and refinement, though chiefly known among us 
 tlirough the blackened and perverted caricatures of writers, 
 who have ascribed the vices of a few individuals to a whole 
 class, and affixed to characters intended as portraits, the un- 
 natural and distorted sentiments that are peculiar to them- 
 selves. 
 
 Believing, however, that the popular manners of Ireland 
 furnish a theme for amusing description, and that the mode of 
 writing adopted in this work on England might be applied more 
 advantageously in describing the sister kingdom, the writer 
 will at least promise himself to prepare for publication the ac- 
 count of his travels in that country. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 Departure from New- York. Scenes in the Bay. Leaving the Land. Surrey 
 of the Ship. Night View in Scudding before a South- wetter. The Watch 
 on Deck. Hard Life of Merchant Sailors. Review of Ship's Company. 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CHANNEL. 
 
 Strike Soundings. Land. Escape from running down a brig. St. Alban's 
 Head. The Pilot. Isle of Wight. British hardihood exemplified by a 
 Pilot. The Needles. Animated spectacle in entering the harbour. Anchor 
 near Spithead. The Navarin and Skipper Sam. Fate of the missing 
 Pilot 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PORTSMOUTH. 
 
 Sail to Portsmouth in the Navarin. Sensations on Landing. A Stage-coach. 
 Dress and Appearance of the Population. Buildings and Shops. The In- 
 visible Dock-yard. Sailors on Shore. English Steamers. A Family 
 Group 32 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE KENTISH COAST. 
 
 Leave Portsmouth. Beachy Head. Dunge Ness. Lighthouse sinecures. 
 River Pilot. Shipwrecks. Appearance of the Coast. Hythe. Dover. 
 Cinque Ports. The Downs. Kentish Wreckers. . . . , 46 
 
302 INDEX. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE THAMES. 
 
 English Coasting Craft. French Fishermen. Ramsgate and Margate. Kentish 
 Watermen. Tales of Sliipwreck. The Convict Ship. Dangers of the 
 Thames. Navigation of the River. The Nore. Approach to Gravesend. 
 Leave the Hannibal. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JOURNEY TO LONDON. 
 
 Row to Gravesend. Dover Coach. Face of Country. Scenes on the Road* 
 Style of Vehicles. Appearance of Population. Management of the Coach* 
 Relays of Horses. Conversation. Approach London. Shops. Street 
 Rabble. Westminster . .69 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COLONNADE HOTEL. 
 
 Leave the Coach. Arrangement of the Inn. Coffee-room, Tete-a-tetc with a 
 Sirloin. Dining Groups. Scene of Dulness. Breakfast and the Times. 84 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WALKS IN LONDON. 
 
 Api)earailce of Shoi». Stand 6£ Hatkncy-coaehcs. Life of a London Uot&e. 
 Regent Street. Architecture of Clul>houses. Duke of York's Statue. St. 
 James's Park » , » 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WALKS IN LONDON. 
 
 Piccadilly. Quadrant. Piacard-bcareta. Church of All-Souls. Park Crescent. 
 Regent's Park. The Terraces. Improvements in London. Their good 
 Taste. Adaptation to America. . • , • • • .102 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WALKS IN LONDON. 
 
 eircuit of Regent's Park. Southeru Terraces. View of the grounds. Com- 
 pari soil of Regcnt-strcct and Broadway. E(i«ipacc» and Howes, Street 
 Population. Female Walkers. Preservation of Order. . . . 115 
 
ISDfix. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 DRURY LANK THEATRE. 
 
 CtUKvcrsation at Dmn«r. fintraliee to Tfieatlre. Appearance of the House. 
 The Audience. The Play. Saloon. Picture ot Klorafs. Midnight Scene 
 in the Streets • .... 125 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WALK TO THE CITY. 
 
 St. Martin's ia the Fields. Strand. Waterloo Bridge. Temple Bar Shops. 
 Ludgate Hill, St. Paul's. Interior. Unsuited for Reformed Worship' 
 Monuments. Whispering Gallery. Dome. View of London, , IS ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CITY. 
 
 Buildings. Shops. Vehicles. City Population. Bank of England. Stock 
 Exchange. Royal Exchange. Lloyd's 147 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CIIY. 
 
 Change. American Sea Captains. Comparison with English. Rothschild. 
 His Character. Dolly's. Covent Garden. Gustavus. . , , 156 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 EXCURSION TO THE TUNNEL. 
 
 Westminster HalL Court of Kinjfs. Boneh. Great Brewery. Thames Tun- 
 neL Its Construction. Importance of its Completion. , . .167 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE RIVER. 
 
 rhamc* Wherries. Utility of the TunncL London fiSom the Thames, 
 Movement on the River. Tower of London. Regalia. , , . 179 
 
304 INDEX. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 OMNIBUS ADVENTURES. 
 
 St. CatkaHiie's Dock. Paddingion Omnibus. Party of Paaeengerc. A Block< 
 ade. Angel Inn. Pentonville. Adelphi Theatre 188 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SUNDAY IN LONDON. 
 
 Church, Drive to Hyde Park. Apsley House. The Park. Equipages. Air 
 of the Groups. Zoological Gardens. A Melancholy Monkey. , 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 NOVEMBER IN LONDON. 
 
 Rainy Streets. Adventures in the Mud. A cat's-meat Merchant. Umbrellas. 
 Labour Exchange. Conversation of Workies. Robert Owen. , 207 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ISLINGTON. 
 
 liiston. Remove to Islington. Scenes from Window. Suburban Rambles. 
 Habits of Retired Citizens. life of Seclusion. Subjects for Emigration. 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DRIVE TO BRIGHTON. 
 
 Dart Coach. Scene at Starting. Suburbs. Benevolent Institutions. Rural 
 Tastes of Englishmen. Scenes on the Roadside. Fellow-Travellers. Their 
 Conversation. Brighton. Church. Albion Hotel 252 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BRIGHTON. 
 
 Pavilion. Palace. Stables. A fine Day. Hurdle Race. High Wind. The 
 Race. The Esplanade. Return to London, Conversation on tke Road. 251 
 
INDEX. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 Christmas. Celebration by Populace. Comparison with Catholic Countries. 
 Westminster Abbey. Exterior. Interior. Service*. Sermon. Tombs. 
 Denof a great Publisher. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND. 
 
 Leave London. Spread Eagle Coach. Road to Dover. Steamer. Voyage. 
 Fellow-travellers. Disembarkation. Hotel Qdillacq. Comparison of France 
 and England. Conclusion. . , ' . . . . . 285 
 
 James Clark, Printer, Aberdeen, 
 
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