/\ /1^£a4£/^. '?/.[}'Ta Qy/^y Q/////r//f <' 'i-y {o^fi-: ti^^-iy a^y..t^'0l/^t:'' M^^ II U ^r m fM;i^ A.<^ C3S'TyiES & CElEIfi©!^ ?;■: 3.LliC 'iJIF^IICEaS, I?'3L0 IPaiiETOBJ & ^bc iHftrie^ciitsi SiiliSiiMS (syz/^^PciC^ /^y ^ ^\^7/ii^/itz/ ^a//<'4 . LOWUOK- ■iHEr. POR TKi; FKOp-RTZTOH,.By C-EORGE VIRTUE. 26 I\*Y LAlv'E. PATr.RJJOf.TilR tOV 184l.: . • ■ LONDON INTERIORS: GRAND NATIONAL EXHIBITION RELIGIOUS, REGAL, AND CIVIC SOLEMNITIES, PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS, SCIENTIFIC MEETINGS, AND COMMERCIAL SCENES BKITISH CAPITAL; BEAUTIFULLY ENGRAVED ON STEEL, JTram fflrainmfliS malrc erptti^^ tax tltii Wiaxii, BY COMMAND OF HER MAJESTY, AND WITH PERMISSION OF THE PEOPEIETORS AND TEIJSTEES OF THE METEOPOLITAN EDIEICBS. WITH DESCRIPTIONS WRITTEN BY OFFICIAL AUTHORITIES. LONDOI^ : D. OMER SMITH, 76, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. LONDON; 3, BOD7EBia 3TREOT, FLEET STRERT, DEDICATION HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA. Madam, Most sincere is the expression of our gratitude to Your Majesty for the manner in which you have vouchsafed to sanction our undertaking, since but for your royal permission, so graciously conceded, it would have been impossible to enrich this Series of Engravings with its most interesting sub- jects—those which afford the British public, throughout the whole of your widely-extended Empire, some idea of the private abode of their Sovereigr »nd of the ceremonial of her Court. That the Views of that kind do justice to the scenes they are intended to represent, is more than we dare flatter ourselves : by Your Majesty they will require to be looked at with an indulgent eye ; but we feel assured that they will be contemplated by all others with the highest interest, apart £rom such as may attach to them for other reasons. As regards Your Majesty personally, the chief claim which our work has on your notice, rests upon the circumstance of its enabling you to learn IV DEDICATION. from it much that constitutes the splendour of your capital, though it does not exhibit itself to the general and daily gaze ; and at the same time, the etiquette . attending your own exalted station prevents Your Majesty from being a spectator of scenes and ceremonies which may not be graced by the actual presence of the Sovereign; or which, were they in any case to be so, on some extraordinary occasion, would assume a degree of parade unknowr to their usual character. To have obtained the high favour granted by Your Majesty is cause for such a degree of self-congratulation on our part, that it can be exceeded only by that which we shall feel should the work thus offered to our Royal Mistress, . be acknowledged not unworthy either of her acceptance, or of public patronage. We have the honour To remain. Madam, With profound respect. Your Majesty's Most devoted Subjects and Servants, THE PROPRIETORS. INDEX. I.— COURT AND GOVERNMENT. Page Buckingham Palace . . The Throne Room 89 . . '• Picture Gallery 97 . . " Queen's Painting Room .... 169 St. James's Palace . . " Chapel Royal 77 . . " Drawing Room .... . . 185 . . '• Tapestry Room ItJl . . " Throne Kensington Palace . . " Sussex Library 173 House of Lords 25 Commons lOi Admiualty 181 Customhouse .... " Long Room 13 Horse Guards .... " Levee Room 109 II.— LAW. Westminster Hall 157 Central Criminal Court 93 Lincoln's Inn Hall 49 Middle Temple Hall , . 67 HI.— MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT. ^ Guildhall Inauguration of the Lord Mayor . ... 1 Banquet on the 9th of November ... 61 Court of Common Council 37 Mansion House . . . The Egyptian Hall 17 Barber Surgeons' Hall 127 Vintners' Hall , I70 vi INDEX. IV.— RELIGION. P«ge Westminster Abbey . . The Choir 113 . . Edward the Confe&ssor's Chapel .... 177 . . Henry VII.'s Chapel, Tomb of Elizabeth . 81 Saint Paul's Cathedral . The Crypt with Nelson's Tomb . . . . 133 Temple Church 153 St. George's Church, Hanover Square 41 Roman Catholic Chafei., Moorfieids . , 53 New Jewish Synagogue, Great St. Helen's 5 v.— LEARNING AND THE FINE ARTS. King's College .... The Theatre 21 Bbitish Museum . . . The Reading Room ... , . , 29 Royal College of Surgeons Hunterian Museum 129 Somerset House . . . Royal Naval Museum 65 Entrance to the National Gallery Title VL— PUBLIC CHARITIES, AND PHILANTHROPIC INSTITUTIONS. Saint Paul's Cathedral . Anniversary of Charity Schools , . . 105 BanquettingHousEjWhite- hall Distribution of Her Majesty's Maundy . . 45 Exeter Hall .... Meeting of Anti-Slavery Society .... 33 Freemasons' Hall . . . Royal Humane Society 9 VII.— TRADE AND COMMERCE. Bank of England . . . The Parlour 189 ..." Rotunda 69 Royal Exchange . . . Laying the Foundation Stone .... 73 VIII. — SOCIAL LIFE. Clubs and Amusements. Athen.3sum Drawing Room 121 Hall 166 Reform Club .... Saloon 145 Kitchen 149 Thatched House . . . Dilettanti Society R5 DauRY Lane Theatre . 141 Madame Tussaud's Exhibition 187 INDEX. 1.— COURT AND GOVERNMENT. page St. James's Palace. — Royal Closet.. The Archbishops and Bishops congra- tulating Her Majesty on her Birth-day 5 The Queen giving audience to an Ambassador 1 Drawing Room. Examination of the Blue Coat Boys . 29 Buckingham Palace. The Library 49 ■ " Yellow Drawing Room ... 63 Tower OF London. " Horse Armoury .57 - " Jewel Office .61 . " Norman Chapel in the White Tower 73 -i " Norman Armoury 77 II.— MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT. Goldsmiths' Hall. The Great Hall on a Ball Night 21 " Gaand Staircase . 17 III.— LEARNING AND THE FINE ARTS. Somerset House . . Royal Society . 41 Royal Antiquarian Society 45 Westmi.nster Hall. Public Exhibition of Frescoes and Sculpture .... 81 British Museum . . The Egyptian Room 89 " Zoological Gallery . . 93 " Elgin Room 97 : " Additional Library 101 National Gallery . " Royal Academy — Private View 86 IV.— PUBLIC CHARITIES. Christ's Hospital . The Great Hall ...... 85 V— TRADE AND COMMERCE. General Post Office. The Inland Office .65 " Letter Carriers' Room . . , 69 Bank of England . " Five Pound Note Office 9 Stock Exchange . • 13 VI.— SOCIAL LIFE. United Service Club The Grand Hall , .33 " Map Room .37 PREFACE. That notwithstanding the very niunerous publications of different kinds, which have had for their object the architectural features of our metropolis, it has been reserved for the Proprietors of the present work to bring forward an entire class of subjects hitherto untouched and quite distinct in character from those forming any other series of graphic illustrations, has been, if not their particular merit, their good fortune. Hardly, indeed, can they assume merit to themselves as having originated an idea which must almost inevitably have suggested itself to any artist, who had at any time made a single interior view of any of oult public buildings ; neither is it pretended that no such views have ever been introduced into any preceding work ; but they may claim some credit as being the first to undertake a series of engravings consisting exclusively of Interior Views, and which, therefore, so far from being merely new versions of subjects which may have been repeatedly delineated before, are almost without exception entirely fresh to the pencil, and supply a mass of Illustration hitherto unattainable, and rendering the present work a suit- able Companion and Supplement to those which give only exterior views. The very circimistance, however, which enhances the intrinsic interest of these London Interiors, is one that adds materially to the difficulty of the imdertaking: subjects for them are not to be picked up by walking about in search of them, nor where known to exist, are they accessible to strangers, or otherwise than as a matter of courtesy — and for the courtesy of that kind which they have experienced from the commence- ment of their work, the Proprietors here express their grateful acknowledgment. But it is utterly impossible to shew such favour indiscriminately to the public generally, and at all times, — not even in the case of what rank as public buildings, except such as are open to all without distinction, either for public worship, or for the transaction of public business. There is, besides, a third class which may be visited without other ceremony than that of producing your passport from your purse, — namely, theatres, concert-rooms, and similar places of public amusement. Still, setting aside these, there are a very great many other buildings affording highly interesting subjects for the pencil, but in regard to which, persons in general have no other means of gratify- ing their curiosity than those supplied by the pencil itself. Such are many of the Club- Houses and Institutions, both at tlie West- end of the Town, and in the City, including several of the Companies' Halls in the latter ; all which are open only to subscribers or members, or those who can be introduced by them. Noble as is the external appearance of some of the buildings of this description, their interiors are far more sumptuous, and display not only greater splendour, but also greater variety of architecture ; others again there are, which though highly worth seeing, are hardly known or noticed, since all that renders them so is confined to their interior — concealed by a very homely or iminteresting outside. By no means, however, is the difficulty attending first finding out subjects and then obtaining permission to draw them, the only or chief one peculiar to a work consisting exclusively of interior views : the subjects themselves are of a kind that involve greater labour and expense. They require more exact and more elaborate drawing, and not only greater dehcacy of detail, but a far greater proportion of it, and oftentimes the most laborious sort of all, where there is positively none as to drawing, in external views. In taking the last, the work of the draftsman is confined to the building itself, or what answers to the walls of an interior ; but in addition to that, he has, in the other case, to delineate ceilingS; floors, and furniture — all perhaps, of intricate pattern, and requiring to be carefully made out on the spot, whereas skies, groimd, and fore-ground maybe put in afterwards, and with little of actual drawing. This circumstance of itself sufficiently accounts for the comparative paucity of Interior views, except such as are simple in subject, or else published at a high price. In works of this kind, where the Plates are not intended so much to illustrate the literary part, as the latter is to accompany and explain the subjects of the Views, the letter- press is of subordinate interest, and affords little opportunity for arming at more than historical and descriptive notices. Still attention has been given to it, and it is hoped that in regard to it, some improvement will be found to have taken place in the later Numbers, although it is rather an infringement upon the terms of the original prospectus, where it was promised that architectural criticism should be as much as possible avoided, — a promise much easier to adhere to, than to break through. The difficulty is to introduce remark of that kind which while it shall satisfy those best capable of appreciating it shall prove both attractive and instructive to readers in general, instead of being at all dry and repidsive. The time, indeed, has been when any thing bearing at all upon architecture would have been the reverse of a recommendation for a popular work, although to a certain extent architectural in character, because consisting of representations of buildings. But a very great and desirable change has of late taken place in that Vespect. Within a comparatively short period, the taste for architecture, and for whatever relates to the study of it has extended wonderfully, so much so that it is now become a sort of fashion, at least, among those who make any pretensions to the fine arts at all. If matter of that kind has been so treated as to be at all popular in tone, as well as pertinent in itself, no little has been accomplished, inasmuch as it is what will give in that respect some character to our work, and recommend the London Interiors to a large and daily increasing class of the Public. ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. Of Costume, we have scarcely any thing at the present day, except such as is purely oflScial and assumed only on particular occasions. Even Professional Costume is all but extinct among us : the tie-wig and gold-headed cane are no longer the outward sign of oesculapean skill ; and now that black is almost the universal colour for male attire, a black coat has ceased to be distinctive of the clerical profession, who have besides discarded every other badge of their order except the white cravat, — and even the bench of bishops have began to emancipate themselves from the episcopal wig, which is likely to become quite extinct in the course of another generation. In ordinary, clerical dress is marked by negative rather than positive distinctions : it does not admit of * fancy waiscoats,' or of mustachios, but as those are not of universal custom the absence of them is not remarked. In other professions costume is limited to that of the bar and the army and navy, unless we choose to include that of the police, and the official gold-laced hat of the parish-beadle. As to other classes of society, all well-dressed people dress pretty much the same all the world over, without much distinction of rank or country ; and even the Turks have began to Europeanize their garments. Here at home, the peer and the shop-keeper dress nearly alike, or if there be any difference, it is more likely than not to be in favour of the latter. Outward distinctions being laid aside, or nearly obliterated, dress has been levelled down to one general standard, so that it is hardly possible to guess at a man's rank or position in society by his coat, though there may be a most prodigious difference indeed between one man and another in respect to that part of their attire which is termed — the lining of their breeches-pocket. Yet, if the aristocracy of dress has been abolished, of all the more value becomes the distinction which arises from superior deportment and manner, — one which cannot very easily be assumed, or of which the assumption is far more likely to render a man ridiculous than dignified. Greatly as luxury and wealth have increased, prodigality in dress has diminished in inverse ratio. That * excess of apparel' which was so ruinous a foible among the nobles of Elizabeth and James I., has wholly disappeared ; suits of gold or silver tissue 'bepowdered with jewels', are to the full as obsolete as the armour of the Crusaders ; and it is only occasionally that the mere image of such habitual pageantry is for a brief hour revived for tlie purpose of a hal niasqui. If there be now excess at all, it lies rather in the opposite direction, and where ladies are not present, a well dressed company might, as far as their X ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. attire goes, be taken for a funeral assemblage, decked out in universal sables ; so that with us black is as much the colour of rejoicing and festivity as of sorrow — and, for distinc- tion's sake, that of our mourning might be pink, sky-blue, or pea-green. The present age seems absolutely penurious in the article of dress compared with that 'bravery' of it displayed in 'good old times' by the courtiers of Elizabeth; as one instance of which we may meniton the shoes worn by Sir "Walter Raleigh on gala days, which " were so gorge- ously covered with precious stones as to have exceeded the value of six thousand, six hundred pounds," and as all the rest of his attire was in a style of corresponding magnifi- cence, he must have shone and blazed the Prince Esterhazy of his day, as did likewise Buckingham adorned cap-a-pie in a panoply of diamonds. — Alas ! for the " degeneracy" of modern times. If none else, all artists are scandalized at, and exclaim against the degeneracy of modern Costume, which is such as to render subjects taken from our own times, very ill-suited for the higher style of historic painting : it is so unpicturesque, poor, meagre and monotonous, — so opposite in character to what is termed * drapery,' that figvires so attired afford nothing to the painter except a collection of hands and faces; and the artist is compelled to adopt a sort of matter of fact, newspaper style, which is of itself almost an extinguisher to aU sentiment and all poetry. But if of national costume we now retain but very few and slight vestiges, all the more important and interesting becomes the study of that of former periods, since it is only by such study that we can make ourselves acquainted with it. To the historic painter it is essential, since without it, great as may be his ability in other respects, his figures will be only in 'fancy-dress,' or in attire that looks borrowed from some theatrical wardrobe, as is the case with no small porportion of the subjects in ' BoydeU's' Shakspeare Gallery : — ^perhaps we should say ' from some old theatrical wardrobe,' for of late years most careful attention has been given to stage costume ; Cato no longer shows himself in a full bottomed periwig, Cleopatra in a hoop- petticoat, or Macbeth in a cocked hat and court-dress of the time of George II. Nor is it in the costume of dress alone that such reform has taken place, for it has also extended itself to scenery and scenic effect generally. If a knowledge of costume be indispensable to the artist whose subjects are derived from history, it is also desirable for others, since without it they cannot appreciate the accuracy and fidelity so displayed. The examples of our older English Costumes here given for the purpose of showing how far it has been modified, when retained at all in modern ofBcial dresses, are all derived from genuine authorities. That of royalty first claims our attention ; and going back to the Anglo-Saxon period, we find that the robes which are now exclusively the state attire of the sovereign, differ little in form from the dress then usual among the nobler classes ; viz. a Jong tunic girdle at the waist, and a mantle generally fastened by a fibula or brooch on the right shoulder, so as to leave that arm at liberty. The robes were therefore those of every •lay dress ; to which the crown and sceptre were added on state occasions : for it is not to ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. be supposed that at any time, kings always encumbered themselves with those ensigns of their dignity and power, and sate every day and all day long upon a throne, as ' Solomon in all his glory' does in a child's picture. During the Anglo Norman period, the tunic became longer, so as to reach the feet. The effigy of Richard I. at Fontrevaud shows that sovereign arrayed in a royal mantle of blue, with a richly ornamented border of gold flower- work; a dalmatic or supertimic of scarlet similarly ornamented, and reaching midway below the knee, be- neath which appears a white super-tunic, and under that the camise or shirt. The backs of the gloves have large jewels — a distinguishing mark of royalty ; and the sandals are ornamented with broad ribband-like bands of gold, pro- bably in imitation of the more ancient sandals. The colour of the royal robes were at this time generally of purple, or of light blue, and the entire dress was in good taste, combining richness with simphcity. Perhaps the finest example of royal costume, and that which ex- hibits its peculiarities when they had become completely distinctive, so as to serve as a type which has been gradually modified into the present form, may be seen in the effigy of Edward III, in Westminster Abbey, and his Queen, Philippa of Hainault. The monarch is arrayed in a long dalmatic, open in front nearly to the thigh, and showing the tunic beneath, and this mantle is secured across the breast by a belt or broad band richly jewelled. His consort is attired according to the usual costume of that period among females of rank, in a closely fitting gown, with a richly jewelled girdle, and tight sleeves buttoned from the elbow to the wrist, the attire being completed by the mantle, which was fastened either by brooches on the shoulder, or by silk cords passing through golden studs, and hanging down to the feet. It was thus habited after the fashion of that royal pair that the Queen and Prince Consort appeared in the grand * Bal Costume' given at Buckingham Palace, in 1842. King Edward III. Queea Philippa. xii ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. Of that pre-eminent badge of royalty — the crown, the original form was a mere head-band or fillet of gold set with jewels, as may be seen in Fig. a of the group here engraved, which is copied from a coin of Ceonwulf, king of Mercia. (A. D. 796 — 818;. It takes the shape of a double band '' of jewels with a lu- nette over the fore- head ; but is fre- quently seen with- out that ornament. Fig. h, showing the plain gold fillet with its pendant ties, is copied from a crown of Edward the elder (A.D. 9(.l— 925) ; and Fig. c is the crown of King Edgar, from a drawing in Cottonian MSS., Vespasian, A .8 ; and shows the general form of crown worn by our Anglo-Saxon monarchs. That of Harold II, (A.D. 1066) represented in Fig. d, is more richly decorated and double arched; and the two last Group of Crowns. Queen Joan. Sceptres. examples seem to have been followed, witli some variations, as patterns, imtil the tame of Edward I., whose crown, as shewn on his coins and great seal, was composed of tieoiB ESSAY ON LONDON CX)STUME. de lys, while that of liis successor is surmounted by oak leaves, as appears from his effigy in Gloucester Cathedral. But the most elegant specimens of all among the crowns of our Temp. Edward IV. Knights of the Garter. Temp. Elizabeth. older sovereigns are those of Henry IV., and his effigies in Canterbury Cathedral. The Queen'a- oak leaves and fleurs de lys — ^happily contrasted and significantly combin- ed to decorate the brow of a monarch claiming ter- ritory in France as well as in England. From the accession of Edward I. to that of Henry VI., arched crowns seem to have fallen into disuse, but from the monarchs. They were sometimes, however, richly in heads of architectural design. The engraving Hood. Queen, Joan of Navarre, from their —which is Fig. 4, is surmoimted by latter period they again appear, and continue with little variation of form down to the present time. The sceptres of the early English sovereigns were usually only long staffs tipped by a globe or fleur-de-lys, and very similar in appearance to those of the early Greek ornamented with foliage, or terminated on page viii exhibits a series of such XIV ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. sceptres, shewing the principal varieties of them. Figs, a, b, and c, are examples of Saxon sceptres from contemporary illimiinations in the Cottonian MSS., British Museum. Fig. d affords an equally early instance of the Cross and Dove surmounting the Globe, as they still do on the sceptres of the British Sovereigns ; while Fig. e, which is of the same age, exhibits the fleur de lys. Fig. / is from the great seal of Edward IV., and is a fine example of the rich Gothic carved work, of architectural character, employed in decoration at that period. Fig. g shews St. Edward's Staff, as it is usually termed, which is borne before the sovereign in the procession to the coronation; but it is not so ancient by Knights of the Garter, Temp. Charles II. 3ome centuries, as its name implies. It is four feet, seven inches and a half in length, and is the largest sceptre in the British regalia. Fig h is the Queen's Golden Sceptre, used in the coronation of a Queen Consort, since the time of Charles II. Fig. i is the alueen's Ivory Sceptre, which was originally made for Mary D'Este, the consort of James II. The costume of the noble Order of the Garter — whose fifth centenary anniversary may next year be celebrated at the royal palace of Windsor, where it was instituted by the chivalric Third Edward in 1344, — claims some notice, or rather, to omit it here would be ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. XV be inexcusable, for it is still retained, and perhaps with added splendour. The original costume of the knights consisted of a blue mantle of woollen cloth — the staple manu- facture of the country, embroidered all over with golden garters, and lined with scarlet ; — a surcoat or tunic of wooUen cloth, shorter than the mantle, and fastened by a girdle or waist-belt ; — a hood of the same material, and a blue garter of cloth or silk. The sovereign's robe was lined with ermine, those of the knights companions with miniver ; and this was the only distinction between them. The figure p. xiii, of a Knight of the Garter, is from an Illumination of the time of Edward IV, in whose reign the colour of the mantle, hood, and surcoat was changed from blue to purple. In this example, the cuffs and linings of the surcoat are of fur, the legs are in tight hose of scarlet. Dug- dale has engraved a procession of the Knights to St. George's Chapel, from which a figure has been selected, p. xiii, for the purpose of exemplifying the next great change in the costume of the order. The surcoat here assumes the form of a close gown, fastened round the waist by a girdle ; and the mantle is attached by long cords hanging down with tassels nearly to the feet. Piurple stiU appears to have been the colour of the dress, imtil Charles I. ordered the original one to be restored, since when the mantle has invariably been blue, and with the Garter embroidered on the left shoulder, aroimd the cross of St. George. As an article of apparel, the hood had now fallen into disuse, and was retained merely as a portion of the ancient habit : its form may be seen in the small cut given p. xiii ; and is of that peculiar kind called a * casting hood,' the * roundlet' or circular cap fitting the head, and the ' skirts' appended to it covering the neck, while the pendent or tippet was worn woimd round the throat, as we see it in the knight of Edward IV. 's time ; and this tippet prevented the hood from falling when ' cast' off so as to hang down the back, — ^whence arose the name of '-casting hood.' The ends, or tippet of this kind of hood may be seen tucked beneath the girdle, in the figure of one of Elizabeth's knights, the cap he wears being the velvet one then in general use among the nobility. From a procession of the knights in the reign of Charles II. (1683), two figures, p. xiv, have been selected, and upon comparing them with the present costimie, as delineated in the plate of this work, it will be found that Httle change has since taken place. The surcoat, mantle, and hood are the same, and, with the hat, formed at that period the whole distinctive costume, since the trunk breeches and high-heeled shoes, with their large ties, which are still imitated, then belonged to the usual dress of a gentleman. The hood (now reduced to a useless and unmeaning appendage) will be clearly seen in these two figures, crossing the right shoulder, beneath the collar of the order, and having its pendent tippet tucked beneath the girdle. To enter into a history, not only of court costume, but of the more antic vagaries of fashion generally during the last century, — to trace the mutations of head-dress, both male and female, from the flowing periwig to the 'Brutus' and the 'Titus,' — from the towering, TVl ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. piled up Mont-Blanc of pomatum and powder, or the immense frizzled cauliflower a I'An- toinette, to tlie unsophisticated scratch, — to descant on all the mutations of dress till we come down to our own milk-and-water and quaker-spirited times, — to pursue the subject ahronologically, philosophically, or aesthetically, would be a delicious task for one who should possess, together with the patience of an antiquary, the acumen of a philosophical critic, and the genius of a Beau Brummel. To attempt to account, however, for some of the inventions of fashion, would drive philosophy itself mad ; that of Hair-powder was as vile a one as that of Gunpowder, but fortunately the patriotism of Pitt devised a counter-inven- tion against the former in the shape of his Hair-powder tax. That other horrible extrava^ ganza of fashion in one of her absurdest moods, which gave a lady in full dress very much the appearance of a walking balloon, or of being in the last stage of the dropsy, — the hoop petticoat,* for many years survived hair-powder at court, till it was expelled the Draw- ing-Room, and abolished by a peremptory ' Le roi le veuf on the part of George IV. That part of female dress — ^which had originally some queer — more significant than delicate names applied to it, had but one recommendation, namely, that of being so supremely stately and inconvenient, that in its ampler dimensions it could not be assumed or aped at by those who made use of their feet, except to step with measured pace along a gallery, or across a saloon. The court dress of the other sex has undergone less change, settUng down into what it now is in general form, about the middle of the reign of George III. ; the chief difference being that there is now far more soberness, both as to colour and material, — ^by no means that brave display of suits of cut velvet and embroidery, or that degree of finery which is now left to the Lord Mayor's footmen in their state liveries. We have already made en passant mention of the every-day clerical costume ; but that worn by the clergy during church service is purely ofllcial, and therefore a different matter. In this last, the Reformation caused a prodigious change ; — the ostentatious, and almost butterfly pomp of priestly attire, with its many-coloured vestments, rich embroideries, emblazoned capes, &c., were laid aside. The symbolism and mysticism of religious finery, which some would fain revive among us again, as being of deep spiritual meaning, although certainly expressed in rather too worldly a guise, were rejected as being * Together with the oop has been abolished thnt horrid instrument of torture, to which so many female niartyrssubmitted withadegree of heroic patience and constancy, truly edifying, — we mean stiff stayt, in which ladies were literally screwed till their waists were condensed into the diameter prescribed by fashion. But a change in waists had taken place long before the utter extinction of the hoop, for toward the end of the last century the female waist disappeared altogether, or rather exalted itself, to just below the arm>pits. Another very great revolution took place about the same time in regard to the materials of female attire, for it was then that silks and satins were discarded for universal 'flabby-dabby' whitemuslin. Of the female costume of the nineties, we may judge from the portraits of ' ladies of quality,' by Lawrence, oppner, and Opie :— peace be to its memory ! ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. the gaudy livery of Anti-christ, and the trappings of religious mummery. Chasubles, dalmatics, and tunics, which had been originally derived from the same articles of kingly attire, were rejected by the Protestant clergy, who gradually approached the style of dress depicted in the portrait of Latimer, here engraved, and which was but slighliy varied from that worn at the Universities. This portrait agrees with the description given of his dress by Fox, who mentions among other particulars, the " old Bristol frieze Caps. threadbare gown, girded about his body with a penny leather girdle." In our cut, how- ever. Latimer is represented in his bishop's gown, with its full sleeves and black cutfs. The * trencher cap' of the Universities may be fotmd in its primitive shape on h ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. the heads of the Reformers. We have placed a modern head beside that of Archbishop Whitgift, and it is easy to see how such form of cap originated. At first the spread- ing crown of the cap supported itself, as in the portrait of Latimer ; next it appears to lie loosely, as in that of Whit- gift, until a support for its cor- ners became necessary, and at length it became a mere ap- pendage to the scull-cap, as the particular badge of a scholar. This will be still better under- stood from the head-dress of John Heywood, copied from the full-length portrait of him, pre- fixed to his poem of " the Spi- der and the Flie," 1556 ; and which is a good example of the costume of a scholar at that period. His head is covered by a close coif which fastens be- neath the chin, over which is the low flat cap then commonly worn by persons of the middling classes, and so constantly by Heywood. citizens as to obtain the name of the " city flat cap," frequent- ly alluded to by the dramatists of the times. His furred gown, with its hanging sleeves, close- fastened doublet, and plain hose gartered both above and be- low the knee, and the dagger pendant from his girdle, are all indicative of a middle station in society, and may be taken as characteristic of a * merchant adventurer' or thriving trader, in the reigns of those amiable sisters, Mary and EUzabeth. The costume of the Christ Church or Bluecoat boys, esta- blished by Edward VI., may still be seen in its primitive simplicity and the * yellow-legs' are at this very hour living and walking monuments of the costume of the London citi- zens when London itself was a mere schoolboy in comparison with what it now is. The members of the legal profession are distinguished by the inveterate fashion of their official attire, kept up with punctilious regard to etiquette and precedent, though such is the degeneracy of the age that mihtary whiskers may some- times be seen peeping out be- neath the barrister's wig. Our judges, however, have preserved intact and unalloyed the bushy and awe-inspiring honours of their heads, although the coif has shrunk into a mere circular patch of black silk on the top of the wig. This coif, which was originally a small close scull- cap, first made its appearance towards the end of the thir- teenth century, and was com- monly worn so late as \the reign of Elizabeth, as may be seen by referring to an engraving (published by the Anti- quarian Society) from a painting executed about 1585, from which the accompanying ' ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. head of a Serjeant-at-law has been copied. Other particulars of ancient legal costume jmay be gathered from what is said by Sir John Fortescue, Chief Justice in the reign oi Sir R. Harpur. Henry VI., who, speaking of the formality of making a judge, says : — " he shall thence- forward from time to time change his habit in some points ; for being a Serjeant-at-law he is clothed in a long priest- like robe, with a furred cape about his shoulders, and there- upon a hood with two labels, such as doctors of l^e law wear in certain Universities, with the coif: but being made a jus- tice, instead of his hood he must wear a cloak closed upon his right shoulder, all the other garments of a Serjeant still re- maining, saving that his vesture shall not be party-coloured, as a Serjeant's may ; and his cape furred with miniver, whereas the Seijeant's cape is ever furred with white lamb." Of judicial costume in the reign of Henry VIII. an ex- ceedingly fine example, fig. 14, citizen Henry VI. is engraved for the first time, from the efl5gy of Richard Har- pur, one of the justices of the " Comen Benche at Westmyn- ster," — in Swarleston Church, Derbyshire. Civic costume is still to a certain degree kept up among the Livery-men of the several ' Companies' or Guilds of the City of London, — who conde- scend to dub princes and peers as their members after the fashion in which learned uni- versities transform victorious field-marshals into doctors of law ! The cut here given of a Livery-man of the time of Hen- ry VI., copied from a char- ter granted to the Leathersel- ler's Company in 1444, shows the party-coloured livery then worn by that body, and which composed of " murrey and plunkett" or dark red and blue, each half of the doublet being ESSAY ON LONDON COSTUME. of a different colour ; with a girdle of " white metal" round the waist, and scarlet stockings. The two j&gures here engraved from another charter of the same company, in the time of James I., show that their livery was then the same in fashion as that of the other companies, the distinction being confined to colour. Citizens Temp. James I. LONDON INTEETORS, GUILDHALL. INAUGURATION OF THE LORD MAYOR. That " Great Fire" of London must, indeed, have been a stupendous event. The City was literally swept as " with the besom of destruction ;" St. Paul's, churches, Exchange, Guildhall, the halls of the civic companies, and the dwellings of the people, became the spoil of the devouring element ; nearly all that marked London as the abode of rational creatures, was buried in the dust. Yet was that "Great Fire" one of those calamities which produce great benefits. London rose from its ashes ; and though a fine opportunity was lost of making it a city of regularly-built and conveniently-proportioned locaUties, yet modem London might well blush to acknowledge its plague-troubled parent. St. Paul's Cathedral is itself a sublime apology for the " Great Fire ;" and though finer churches and nobler public edifices might have been erected, there are not a few worthy of the greatest city, and the most wonderful municipal body, that ever existed in the world. Amongst these rank the Guildhall and the Mansion House ; buildings far from faultless, and possessing much to condemn, yet in their massiveness and grandeur conferring dignity on a civic corporation great in its historical eminence, and powerful from its accumulated wealth. Turning up King-street from busy Cheapside, the front of the Guildhall does not jxcite expectation. Its spurious style seems rather a satire on "pointed architecture,'' than an attempt to exhibit its character ; while the buildings and ofllces that cluster round •the edifice, conceals its " fair proportions." But on passing through the gateway into the noble and commanding Gothic hall, we feel that the meanness of the exterior is com- pensated by the simple grandeur of the interior. The lower story, the windows, and the richly-embellished screen, are all that remain of the original edifice erected in 1411 ; » LONDON INTERIORS. the upper walls and general decorations were built in 1669, three years after the "unhappy conflagration of the city ;" the ceiling is of modern date, and was repaired and ornamented in 1815, but is considered to be ** about as ugly a roof as ever disgraced a beautiful hall.'' The dimensions, within the walls, are one hundred and fifty-three feet in length, forty- eight in breadth, and fifty-five in height, — the Hall is capable of accommodating upwards oi five thousand persons. Pacing this fine Hall, we may, in imagination, travel through the civic records to the period of the Norman invasion, for the very word Guildhall carries us back to Anglo- Saxon times, when the burgess belonged to a brotherhood, or guild, and paid his gild, or tax, towards its support ; when his sword and his vote were equally parts of his rights, the one to defend, the other to assert ; and when, in the spirit of that elective franchise which pervaded the institutions of the Anglo-Saxons, from the borough-reeve to the king, the burgesses met in the folkmote or common hall, to discuss their afiairs, and choose their oflScers. In this principle of popular discussion and popular election, we may discover the germ of our British constitution, the root of our national liberties ; and in the civic rites of modern Guildhall, discern that from which sprung our British Parliament, and all the glories of our British freedom. The Norman Conquest shook the Anglo-Saxon constitution, and spread the dark pall oi a feudal despotism over even the municipal rights of our towns. But though oppressed, these towns were too important to be crushed ; and though their guildhalls did not escape the same iron grasp that seized the soil of England, the commercial spirit of the burgesses was too vital to expire. The wily no less than ferocious Norman conquer er acknowledged the claims of London ; in the very first year of his reign he gave it a charter, confirming all the rights, privileges, and customs it had possessed in the time of Edward the Confessor ; and from that hour to this, the Corporation of London has flourished from century to century, and become at once rich and great. Vicissitudes it has had, but these vicissitudes have never effected its existence ; changes have passed over it, but these changes have been concentrative not destructive. The increase of wealth and numbers led to a gradual narrowing of the popular basis of the Corporation ; instead of the entire commonalty meeting in Guildhall to discuss their affairs, a species of delegation sprang up, until it ended in the formation of the civic legislature, the Courts of Aldermen and Common Council : from the title of borough-reeve, the chief magistrate became bailiff, and then mayor, the prefix of Lord being more by estabhshed courtesy than by right ; and gradually, by usage, by charter, and by statute, the powers and privileges of the Corporation of London became settled and defined, on the same basis of prescription and of enactment on which rests the framework of the British constitution. The Corporation of London consists of the whole body of citizens, under the style of " Mayor, Commonalty, and Citizens." The ministerial, judicial, and legislative GUILDHALL. 3 management of the affairs of this Corporation devolve 6n the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council ; the Courts of Aldermen and Common Council are distinct, but the Aldermen sit in the Common Council as of right, and its sittings are held under the pre- sidency of the Lord Mayor. The Aldermen are elected for life, the Common Councilmen are elected annually, in their respective Wards. The companies or guilds of London, are to the Corporation what the halls and colleges of Cambridge and Oxford are to their res- pective universities; each complete within itself, each an independent institution, yet component parts of the whole. The Guildhall is the public place of the Corporation, as representing the commonalty of the city of London ; each Company has its own hall, or its own place of meeting, for the transaction of the business of the Company. Eighty-nine Companies are enumerated in the Corporation list, but of these eight are practically extinct. Twelve of the Companies take precedence in rank and wealth ; they are called the twelve great Livery Companies of London, which have large possessions in real property, money in the Fimds, and therefore in the receipt of large annual incomes. These are the Mercers, Grocers, Drapers, Fishmongers, Goldsmiths, Skinners, Merchant Tailors, Haber- dashers, Salters, Ironmongers, Vintners, and Cloth- workers. The Guildhall is the scene of those public events in London which are to be regarded as the public acts of the Corporation, not even excepting those lighter occasions, when speeches give place to dancing, or groaning tables cheer the hearts of freemen. Here the ** livery" nominate two individuals to the Court of Aldermen, one of whom js selec- ted to fill the office of Mayor ; here the elections of Members for the City are com- menced and declared ; here royal personages are entertained ; and here the indigent are permitted to find sympathy in the contributions of those who seek friendships in the socialities of a Guildhall charitable ball. But let us turn to the accompanying picture. It is a view of what takes place annually on the 8th of November within (juildhall. The unconscious statues and memorials which adorn the walls, seem as if imbued with Hfe, and conscious that an event is about to take place which links one year with another, and binds eight centuries in one. In the scene before us, we have a model of the entire framework of the British empire, as represented by sovereign, lords, commons, and all classes of people. The wards of London send their twenty-six Aldermen and 240 Common Councilmen to gaze on the transmigration of the Lord Mator. The state that surroimds the Corporation is a type of the state that surrounds the monarchy. In the annual election of the king of the city, we have a memorial of the time when the king of the land was elective. In the meeting of the Corporation within Guildhall, ■ve see a shadow — and a magnificent shadow — of the time when the entire commonalty met and acted together ; yea, we have a memorial of the time, when the Lords occupied the upper end of the chamber of Parliament, and the Commons humbly stood below. The Aldermen are the types of the barons : the Common Council of the commons • 4 LONDON IKTERIORS. wrhile in the Liverymen of the Companies (so called because they once wore a livery or dress, as a mark of distinction), who have the privilege, above their brother freemen, of electing the civic ftinctionaries, we have a type of the constituencies of Britain. See too, a miniature of the judges of the land, in the attendant Recorder and Common Sergeant ; while Sheriffs and Under-sheriffs, Town-clerk and Remembrancer, Pleaders, Secondaries, Attorneys, Auditors, Wardens, Clerks, Officers of the Lord Mayor's House- hold, City Marshals, and a host of minor functionaries, pour in among the crowd, and give to this annual civic ceremony an imposing air of grandeur. It is the 8th of November, and the last day of the Lord Mayor's reign. But the Lord Mayor never dies — ^his spirit is immortal. Two chairs are therefore placed, that in the presence of the representatives of the eighty-one existing guilds of London, the transformation may be seen, and the Corporation be proved to live for ever. The Lord Mayor elect — elected on the previous 29th of September, — takes his seat in the humbler chair, beside the chair of state. The departing Lord Mayor seats himself for the last time ; exchanges seats with his successor ; and lo, the spirit of the Lord Mayor has passed from one body to another ! Sword-bearer, Mace-bearer, Purse-bearer, advance with three-fold obeisance, and lay their emblems of office on the table. They retire, and stand among the crowd, sunk to the level of common humanity. But the new Lord Mayor speaks ; it is the voice of law, it is the command of authority. Sword-bearer, Mace-bearer, Purse-bearer, advance once more ; they resume their ensigns of office, and start up official beings. Such is the initial act of the new Lord Mayor ; '* now is Mortimer lord of the city." For one year he is a multifarious being, a king, a judged a magistrate, head of the Corporation, guardian of the Thames, and chief among his brethren ; and while he is expected to maintain order, and dispense justice, it is his business, also, to sustain the dignity of his station, and the credit of the great city over which he rules, by a magnificent hospitafity. Though the official income of the Lord Mayor is about eight thousand pounds, he is expected, during his year of office, to expend about four thousand more : yet while the office is thus at once onerons and expensive, it is regarded with ardent hope, and patriotic ambition : to be Lord Mayor of London is to fill an office the greatest of its kind in the civilized world ; and few there are who would pay the fine of a thousand pounds, rather tlian incur the labour and the cost along with the honour of the dignity. The scene in the accompanying plate is strictly the Inauguration of the Lord Mayor on the 8th of November. Next day the " Lord Mayor's show" takes place ; the pro- cession by land and water, when he is presented, at Westminster, to the Lord Chancellor, to take the oaths of office. In the evening is the banquet in the Guilddall, at which all the great functionaries of Government are expected to be present : a festival, famous in the records of civic hospitality. NEW JEWISH SYNAGOGUE, GREAT ST. Helen's . CELEBRATION OF THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES. Moses formed the descendants of Abraham into a nation ; and while they wandered in the desert of Arabia, the moveable Tabernacle, in the centre of the camp, was the place where their solemn religious services were performed. For a considerable period after Canaan, or Palestine, was conquered, the Tabernacle, occasionally carried from one part of the country to another, continued to be the only legal place for sacrificial worship, for it contained the only legal altar. At. last it was superseded by the Temple at Jerusalem ; and to Jerusalem three times a year, at each of the three great annual festivals, all the adult Jews felt it a duty and an honour to repair. But though the Temple at Jerusalem contained the only legal altar, and was the only place where the ritual enjoined by Moses could be performed, the distant Jews, scattered throughout Palestine, where not left without the means of religious instruction. In the *' schools of the Prophets" the praises of God were sung ; and on Sabbaths and new moons, the people were assembled for prayers, and to hear the law. This practice was mamtained during the Babylonish captivity, when the "Holy City" and the Temple were in ruins ; and that which was, in Palestine, a decent and convenient custom, grew into an established form in a foreign land, and Synagogues became a portion of the religious system of the Jews- Ever since the Babylonish captivity, the Jews, especially in foreign countries, have met in Synagogues. A portion of the " captivity" returned to their own land ; and Jerusalem once more possessed a temple. But a far greater number remained scattered over the world, repairing, when they could, to visit the land of their fathers, and to sacrifice at the holy place. Again, Jerusalem was razed to the ground ; once more the Temple was destroyed. From that hour has Israel been literally without a temple, without an altar, without a sacrifice, and without a, priest; the only mode in which the Jews have been able to maintain a semblance of their religious system has been by public worship in their Synagogues ; and during the long dreary night of the past, have they assembled, to read their law, to chant the psalms of David, and to pray to the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob. Thanks to the improving spirit of the age, they can do this in 6 LONDON INTERIORS. most civilized countries, " no man making them afraid ;" and in London, the head-quarters of civUization, not only do they meet without fear, but they assemble in aU the honour and the dignity which wealth, security, and numbers can confer. In the heart of the ** City," and almost choked up by surrounding buildings, stands the Synagogue of St. Helen's. Walking from Bishopsgate-street, through a covered passage into Crosby-square, and from thence, by another covered passage, into the con- fined lane where the building is situated, the stranger is struck by the exterior of the edifice, even though he has scarce room to view it. But on passing into the interior, he forgets everything, in the exquisite architectural gem before him. Of no very great extent, it has an air of spaciousness, and of rich and tasteful elegance, which are quite enchanting. It was built in 1838 ; and " as a piece of interior architecture," says Mr. Leeds, an able and enlightened architectural critic, " it is highly creditable to the talents and taste of Mr. Davies, who has here distinguished himself most advantageously; for it quite eclipses every one of our modern churches that have any pretensions to be brought into comparison with it, although it may fall short of some of them in its dimen- sions." Its length, including the rich recess displayed in our engraving, is seventy-two feet, and the extreme width fifty-four, or between the fronts of the galleries thirty-two ; while the extreme height is forty-five feet. The galleries are novel in design, and elegant in execution ; the seats are concealed from view, while the handsome railing in front adds to the architectural effect. Every thing appears adapted to produce one general effect ; ceiling, windows, and internal fitting-up, are in harmony, and combine to make the build- ing a study. But it is to the upper portion of the interior of the Synagogue, exhibited in our ac- companying engraving, that we wish to direct the attention of the reader. This, which may be considered as corresponding with the " altar" in our churches, is technically termed " the ark." The pavement of this recess, which is slightly elevated from the floor of the Synagogue, is of fine veined Italian marble ; and the lower portion of the alcove, in front of which hangs a rich velvet curtain, emblazoned with a crown, and fringed with gold, is fitted up with recesses for the books of the Law, and these are inclosed with doors of solid and beautifully-pohshed mahogany. Above, between I'he net Italian-Doric and Corinthian columns, are three arched windows, filled with stained glass of arabesque pattern ; the centre one has the name Jehovah, in Hebrew characters, and the tables of the Law. On the frieze is also inscribed, in Hebrew characters, the sentence, " Know in whose presence thou standest." On either side of the ark there is an arched panel, containing prayers for the Queen and Royal Family, one in Hebrew, and the other in English. The rich decoration — the fruits, flowers, and rosettes — add to the general effect of what is at once a beautiful, an exquisite, and even a gorgeous specimen of architectural combination. GREAT SYNAGOGUE. 7 It is the lower portion of the recess — that which is concealed by the curtain, and (.ontains the books of the Law — ^which is properly the ark. The Synagogues of the Jews, it must be remembered, are not substitutes for the Temple itself, and the Rabb's are not priests. But dispersed abroad as they are, with their sacrificial ritual in abeyance, and their official priesthood extinct, the Jews still return to the memory of the Temple, and the forms enjoined by the Law. Therefore it is, that in this Synagogue we have a shadow of the Temple ; a rich architectural composition, to remind the worshippers of that Sanctissimus, or " Holy of hohes," into which none but the High Priest entered. The chief piece of furniture within the " Holy of hoUes" was the ark ; and the only thing which that ark contained was the Law. Up to the period of the Babylonish captivity, the ark remained in the Temple, and it is presumed that the tables of stone, inscribed with the Law, which Moses brought down from the Mount, were within it. But what became of the ark after the captivity is unknown ; it is almost certain that there was an ark in the second Temple. When Nebuchadnezzar destroyed Solomon's Temple, he destroyed with it all those sacerdotal emblems which were the warrant to the Jews that they were a pecuhar nation. The tables of the Law — that moral code, God's charter, written on stone, perished along with the ark which inclosed it, as if to teach us, that in the progress of society there is a preserving medium, far more fragile, yet more imperishable, than the rock itself. The sacred fire — ^which consumed upon the altar the bumt-ofiering — was for ever extinguished. The glorious Shekinah, which dwelt in the Tabernacle, and fiUed Solomon's Temple, disappeared. With the destruction of the Temple, perished all its costly ornaments, and the sacred vessels were either broken up or carried away as trophies ; the priesthood was all but lost in the mingling confusion of the captivity ; the " holy anointing oil," with which they were to be consecrated to their profession, shared the fate of the other treasures of the Temple ; while the mysterious " Urim and Thummim," by which the High Priest was to obtain responses from God, is never mentioned, not merely from the time of the Babylonish captivity, but even from the time of the estabUshment of the Jewish monarchy. Two thousand four hundred years have passed away since the ark disappeared : and yet here, in the architectural design before us, we have the idea of the " Holy of holies," and of the ark, throwing a long shadow down the abyss of time, and speaking to men of other countries and of other ages concerning events in the history of the race. In the scene, also, represented in the engraving, are we carried back to the times of Moses, and the establishment of the Law. It exhibits an affecting incident in the annual cele-. bration of the Feast of Tabernacles, when the Jews commemorate the residence of their forefathers in tents, in the wilderness, and their preservation for forty years, as a nation, in the midst of the hostile tribes of Ishmael. On this occasion, the Jewish fathers. 8 LONDON INTERIORS. dressed in the taled — a white embroidered silk scarf, and attended by their sons, assemble for prayers in great multitudes. After the chaunting of a full service, including the col- lection of psalms called the Great Hallel, they turn themselves reverently towards the east, and take into their right hands, tastefully-decorated trophies composed of the central buds of palm-trees, surrounded by branches of myrtle and willow, and into their left hands, melons or other oriental fruit. These are then held together, the joined hands raised, and the trophies shaken in a triumphant manner, in memorial of the long and perilous way the Lord hath led them ; and in public expression of their hope, that one day the bondage of scattered Israel shall cease. After these observances, the elders and Levites of the congregation open the ark, take out the copies of the law, each one covered with rich tent-like canopies of many-coloured silks, and cloth of gold, and proceed to carry them roimd the Synagogue, to receive, by a touch from the hands of the worshippers, a declaration of their love and homage. The ceremony then concludes by reading appropriate passages from the Pentateuch, during which time large contributions are made for the poor, the Jewish charities, and the '* House of the Lord." These solemnities last six or more days. On ordinary occasions the visitor may walk into the Synagogue of St. Helen's, and enjoy the singularity and pleasure inspired by the Jewish mode of worship. On Friday evenings the Synagogue is opened for the service which commences the Sabbath — for the Sabbath extends from sunset tiU sunset — and as the full-toned voice of the Canti- lator, or Synagogue-singer, accompanied by the chir, breaks on his ear, he will feel that there is a grandeur and a richness about the chaunting of the Hebrew service singularly impressive, and in unison with the scene. Here, however, he remains covered ; and in this respect he may be taught a useful lesson, — a lesson teaching him a tolerating respect for different modes of thought, — should it strike him, for the first time, that while one body of men exhibit reverence by removing the hat, another body consider that to remove the hat would be a violation of the sanctity of the place. The number of Jews in London is considered to amount to about 18,000, and in the rest of England at about 9000. The number in Scotland and Ireland is probably small, seeing that the entire estimate for the United Kingdom does not make them exceed 30,000. They were in this country before the Norman Conquest, but were banished by Edward I., about 1290 ; and they did not return till after the Restoration, in 1660. Though still labouring under disabiUties, Jews born in Great Britain are British subjects, like any other persons bom in the country. FREEMASONS' HALL WITH THE ANNUAL DINNER OF THE ROYAL HUMANE SOCIETY. Our great London Taverns, with their large Halls for public meetings, have often proved piizzles to foreigners. The intimate union of benevolence and gastronomy in the English mind was — and still is — a riddle ; but even getting over that diflBculty, another one presented itself, in the fact of magnificent public dinners taking place at Taverks. " I remember," says an agreeable gossip, " some Italians being much puzzled in reading in the newspapers that English princes, royal dukes, marquises, and lords, the very pink of our nobility, thought nothing of dining at the Taverna di Londra (the London Tavern), which to their ears sounded every bit as vulgar as the Pig and Tinder-box, or the Cat and Mutton." The London Tavern in the "City," the Crown and Anchor in the Strand, and the Freemasons' Tavern in Great Q,ueen-street, have each acquired a wide-spread reputation. The fine Hall of the latter Tavern is known all over the world, from its association with some of the greatest and grandest o f those Societies, whose magnificent operations have marked the present century as an era in the history of the world. Here crowded and excited auditories have listened, in breathless silence, broken at intervals by tumultuous applause, to eloquent voices pleading the cause of religion or of charity ; and here, in the spring- tide of their success, have been announced the details of operations carried on by voluntary associations, on a scale unknown before. But though the Hall can hold 1500 persons, it was long felt to be too narrow a space for the accommodation of those who rushed to hear ; and in 1829 the project was taken up of building Exeter Hall. The Hall of the Freemasons' Tavern is still, however, a scene of pubhc action in the service of benevolence ; one of the most recent and the most striking, being, the Convention of Delegates from various parts of the world, assembled at the instance of the British and Foreign Anti-Slave^-v Society. The Convention — a kind of catholic par- liament — held it§ sittings in Freemasons' Hall, though the annual meeting of the Society was held in Exeter Hall. The great religious societies do not celebrate their anniversaries with public dinners ; and, indeed, it was an objection in the minds of many of the friends of such associations, that their great annual meetings should be held in a tavern hall. The objection has been 10 ' LONDON INTERIORS. completely obviated by the erection of Exeter Hall. But a majority of the numerous voluntary associations of London, not occupying the lofty ground of Bible or Missionary Societies, though devoted to specific benevolent objects, see no harm in bringing together the friends and supporters of their respective institutions by the charm of an annual dinner. It is hot the mere circumstance of exquisite viands, nor yet the enticement of that " wine which maketh glad the heart of man," which brings them together. It is the social communication ; men meeting "face to face" on the common ground of common himianity ; and thus, stepping out of the daily routine of their daily lives, and brought into personal contact with others like-minded, and seeing before them the fruits of combined action and combined subscription, their flagging enthusiasm is re-vivified, and their personal efibrts are sustained. At the dinner of the Literary Fund for the Relief of Distressed Authors, the noble or wealthy patron of literature, the popular writer, whose pen fills his pocket, while it spreads his name abroad, and the humbler professor of the mysteries of prose or poetry, all meet together, for a double purpose — the cause of a silent charity, which, with delicate scrupulousness, acts literally on the maxim of not letting the left hand know what the right is doing ; and also to share in the personal company and social converse of the most eminent men of the times, in Uterature, science, and art. Or at the annual dinners of such national associations as the Caledonian Asylum or the St. Patrick Schools, we have the successful Scotchmen in London, or warm-hearted Irishmen, meeting to feed, to clothe, and to educate the youth of their respective countries, who have been left destitute in this vast Metropolis ; while the cliildren, clean, hale, hearty, and happy, walk round the dining-room in procession, and thus appear, in their own proper persons, to thank their benefactors. Nay, we have not only national associations — we have county ones, especially of the northern counties of England, where the clannish spirit prevails to a degree unknown in the South. To enumerate the benevolent associations of the Metropohs is not our intention — positively, their name is legion. And this is one of the brightest features of this great aggregation of houses and of human beings. There may be much crime, much vice, much misery, for wherever man is gathered in masses, these things abound — " where the carcase is, there will the vultures be gathered together." But the vast number of our religious, charitable, benevolent, and instructing societies, was never before equalled since the world began. There may be hypocrisy — there may be imposition — there may be clap-trap — there may be humbug : but a deeper and more abiding spirit than that of hypocrisy, imposition, clap-trap, or humbug, must be at work, in order to throw all these societies on the surface of our London life. That spirit is none else than the spirit of Christianity — the religion of the Bible. Though, however, not professing to enumerate all the societies or voluntary associations of London, we may classify them. Thus, for religious improvement, we have socienes for the distribution of the Bible, for missionary objects, and for general religious objects: freemasons' hall. 11 of which the most noted are the British and Foreign Bible Society, the London Missionary and Wesleyan Societies, the Christian Knowledge Society, and others. For educational purposes we have a very great number, from magnificent Christ's Hospital and the British and Foreign School Society, down to such associations as the Yorkshire and Westmoreland Societies. For medical and surgical rehef there are splendidly-endowed Hospitals and Institutions, many supported entirely by annual voluntary subscriptions ; while of those for pecuniary relief, and for general and particular objects of humanity, the number is very great. Among these we may reckon the Foundling Hospital, the Philan- thropic Society, various Orphan Asylums, Pension and Annuity Societies, Benevolent Fund Associations, the Blind School, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, and others ; while, amongst scientific and literary societies there are at least thirty deserving of special mention, from the Royal Society down to the more modern Geographical, Statistical, and Natural History Societies, all of them associating the first men of the age amongst their fellows ; and this without noticing the hundreds of minor associations for similar purposes scattered over the MetropoKs. Amongst the many Societies of London, we have selected the annual Dinner of the Royal Humane Society as the one best calculated to strike the mind, in connection with Freemasons' Hall. This Society, which was established as far back as the year 1774, has for its object, " to collect and circulate the most approved and effectual methods for recovering persons apparently drowned, or dead from any other cause ; and to suggest and provide suitable apparatus for, and bestow rewards on, those who assist in the preservation and restoration of life." The Society has ample occupation in London itself. The ornamental waters of the Parks — especially of Hyde Park — give abundant opportunities for testing the usefulness of the objects for which the members are so laudably associated. Here, in the heat of summer, or in the cold of winter, death is perpetually dogging the heels of pleasure. In summer, the bather may be surprised at the idea of danger in the Serpentine, and be half inclined to laugh at the prompt at- tendance and watchful care of the servants of the Royal Humane Society. But let him venture into the " region of the cold springs," and he runs the risk of being instantly paralysed, and may be compelled to acknowledge the value of the voluntary services which the instant before he despised. But the greater number of accidents happen in winter. Let but the thinnest crust of ice cover the surface of the water, and instantly thousands crowd to the Park to disport in skating; scarcely any warning can check their mad enthusiasm : and should the weather fluctuate between harder and milder, the attendants of the Royal Humane Society have to exercise a watchful and vigilant superintendence. But the Royal Hmnane Society does not confine itself to the Metropolis. It helps to inspire a high idea of the value of human life aU over the globe. The adventurous swimmer who has rescued a fellow-creature ; the waterman who has promptly " put off" Ig LONDON INTEKIORS. to Uie salvation of a boat's-crew ; or the hardy saUor who has dashed into the sea to save his messmate — are all honourably distinguished by the Royal Humane Society, should the cases be brought within its cognizance. At the Annual Dinner of the Royal Humane Society, such of the individuals whom it has been the means of saving from " a watery grave " as can be brought together, walk in procession round the HaU, preceded by the officers of the Society, and a banner, on which is inscribed the words "We praise God, and thank you." — Each of the "saved persons" in the procession carries a Bible; they are of all conditions of life, for people in better circumstances are not unconscious of the value of their existence, and are to be found not ashamed of mingling with their poorer fellow-creatures in testifying publicly to the exertions of the Royal Humane Society ; there is no " dressing " for the occasion, each appearing in the apparel commonly worn, or smtable to the condition of life : the maid-servant, the charity-school child, the lawyer's clerk, the gentleman, and the labourer, are all to be seen walking round the Hall. During the procession appropriate music is played. 18 THE CUSTOM-HOUSE. THE LONG ROOM— PAYMENT OF CUSTOMS. Oi the numerous encomiums which have been bestowed on the Thames, perhaps that of quaint and witty Fuller is as expressive as any. He teUs us, that " London oweth its greatness, under tjod's divine Providence, to the well-conditioned river of Thames, which does not (as some tyrant rivers in Europe) abuse its strength in a destructive way, but employeth its greatness in goodness, to be beneficial for commerce by the reciprocation of the tide therein. Hence it was, that when King James (the First), offended with the City, threatened to remove his Court to another place, the Lord Mayor boldly enough retorted that he could remove the Court at his pleasure, but he could not remove the Thames!" The collection of the " King's toll," or Customs — which used to be a main dependence of royalty — was managed very bunglingly in former times. The " customers," as the collectors of Customs are termed in old Acts of Parliament, were in the habit of cheating both king and merchant : the one by giving false certificates of the duty being paid to such merchants as they chose to favour, and the other, by sometimes giving no discharges or receipts at all to those they did not choose to favour, or at least imtil they had not unfrequently compelled a second payment of the said duty. The 1 1th Henry VI. c. 15, 16, is directed against these practices. The earliest statute passed in this coimtry, whereby the Crown was authorised to levy Customs'-duties, was the 3rd of Edward I. The mode long employed in the collection of these duties, was to affix a certain rate or value upon each kind or article of merchandize, and to grant what was called a subsidy upon these rates. This subsidy was generally one sh illin g of duty for every twenty shillings of value assigned in the book of rates. The early Acts granting these duties speak of them as subsidies of tonnage and poundage. The word "tonnage" was applied to a specific duty charged on the importation of each tun of wine, and the exportation of each tun of beer ; and the word poundage was applied to the rates levied on the twenty-shiUing or pound value. The fijst "book of rates agreed upon by the House of Commons," is believed to be that compiled by a committee in 1642, during the reign of Charles I. The next recorded ••'^book of rates" was published, by order of the House of Commons, in 1660, the year of 14 LONDON INTERIORS. the restoration of Charles II. By degrees, the principle on which the rates were or ginally levied was lost sight of, until, by the addition of an immense number of Acts of Parliament, the collection of the Customs became a complicated business : so complicated, that when, in 1810, the Government ordered a digest of the Customs'-laws to be prepared, the work was five years in preparation, and formed an octavo volume of 1375 pages. In 1825, a complete reform of the Customs'-laws took place, by a set of new Acts of Parliament, which repealed nearly five hundred statutes, and classified and simplified the entire system. It is not unlikely that another change will take place in the Customs'-laws, adapting them to the now-advanced condition of our commerce The great bulk of the Customs' -revenue is indeed collected from a very small number of articles : spirits, tea, timber, tobacco, and wine, yielding by far the largest proportion ; the next proportion being produced by butter, cheese, cofiee, currants, raisins, molasses, seeds, silk manufactures, tallow, cotton, and sheeps' wool. The sixteen articles enumerated produce the chief portion of the revenue ; about two millions are added, by the duties on several hundred articles of merchandize, the collection of which is a far greater disadvantage to commerce than any possible advantage which can accrue to the revenue. A member of the Grocers' Company, who was also Sherifi" of London, named John Churchman, has the credit of having first got up the convenience of a Custom House at the Port of London — this was towards the end of the fourteenth century. Churchman's Custom-house was only for the "trojTiage" or weighing of wools : long after its erection, the various Customs were collected at different places in the City, in a very irregular manner. The commencement of the present system may be dated from the reign of Elizabeth. In her reign the first regular Custom-house was built, which was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666. Sir Christopher Wren built another, which was also destroyed by fire, in 1718. Another structure was immediately raised, and this, after a lapse of a century, was destroyed by the same means as its two predecessors. The fire took place on the night of Saturday, the 12th of February, 1813, and its efiects were rendered more destructive by the explosion of some casks of gunpowder which were in store. But though the edifice was thus consumed, it had been previously condemned to be taken down : the fire, therefore, executed the purpose in a summary manner, and it is to be regretted that a large portion of the Customs' records perished, thus precluding all chance of obtaining a complete view of the progress of trade in the kingdom. The foundation of the present Custom-house was laid in 1813 ; it was opened for business in 1817, and was erected for the contract price of 165,000Z., the architect being Mr. Laing. But on the 26th of January, 1825, the central portion of the foun- dations gave way, and that spacious Hall, the Long Room, fell with them. The entire Hall did not sink — it was the central portion of the flooring, leaving the desks THE CUSTOM-HOUSE. 15 standing along the sides. The disaster caused the central portion of the Custom-house to be re-constructed, raising the entire cost of the structure to 440,000Z. ; in the coiirse of the re-constructiou, the central portion of the river front, and the Long Room, were quite altered. It was thought that the modem gigantic amount of the commerce of the Port of London would be considerftbly diminished by the abrogation of the commercial monopoly of the Eas^ India Company, and the participation of other ports in the China trade. Such, however, has not been the result ; buyers of tea still, resort to London as the best market in which they can select their purchases ; and notwithstanding the increase in other ports, the net produce of the Customs collected in the Port of London, equals in amount that of all the othc ports in Great Britain and Ireland. The net amoimt of Customs'-duties collected fron England, Scotland, and Ireland, for the year ending the 5th of January, 1839, wa: 21,732,521^., of which London contributed the large amount of 11,431,245Z. The nearest approach to this are the Customs of Liverpool, which yielded in the same year 4,234,1 18/. The " forest of masts" to be seen in the Thames is no mere figure of speech, for the number of vessels employed in the foreign and coasting trades is without parallel in the commercial history of the world. Though the coasting trade is very great, the foreign trade has increased during the last half-century, with astonishing steadiness and regularity, and there is also no port in the kingdom which has profited more from the application of steam to navigation. A great number of the steam- vessels which arrive and depart, carry passengers only, and are not reqmred to make entries at the Custom-house. In ascending the Thames, we begin to be sensibly impressed with the amount of trafiic, after reaching and passing Gravesend. But it is from Woolwich upwards that the interest of the Port of London commences. Turning round by Blackwall, with its taverns overhanging the river, Greenwich opens distinctly on the view, with its noble and palace- Uke Hospital, and its back-ground of park and wooded hill, crowned by the Observatory. Opposite Greenwich and Deptford is the marshy peninsula of the Isle of Dogs, nearly round which the river makes a great sweep ; and from thence we '* thread the needle,'' as the pilots term steering in the midst of the shipping which crowd what are technically called the Upper and Lower Pools. One by one we have passed the entrances of the several Docks, the receptacles and storehouses of an enormous amoimt of property in ships and goods ; and at last, within a stone's-throw of London-bridge, may land at the Custom-house. The building, whose river-front extends 488 feet in length is of great capacity, divided into numerous rooms and oflBces, for the miiltifarious purposes of the collection of the Customs. The stranger, however, need not puzzle himself in the passages which seem to '* lead to nothing," nor stand staring at the numerous doors of the numerous ofiices, inscribed with the titles of the respective ofiicers to whose use they are applied. 16 LONDON INTERIORS. He will at once perceive, if he reaches the central staircase, that there is a point of attraction above, as indicated by the ascending and descending streams of human beings, young and old. Following the direction of the upward current, he enters the LoKf. Room, a spacious hall, 190 feet long, 64 broad, and 55 high, round the whole extent cf which are ranged the desks of the clerks, whose duty it is to "wait at the receipt of Custom." Notwithstanding the enormous amount of business transacted, and the great variety of articles on which duty has been paid, the proceedings are simple and expeditious. A merchant has goods in the Docks, which have been unloaded, valued, aBd booked, and warehoused, under the inspection of officers appointed to that service. Should he wish to withdraw any portion of the goods, he must, of course, pay the amount of duty on the particular quantity ; and proceeding to the Long Room, he pays to the clerk in whose department it may lie, the amount of duty, receives a receipt or order, which is his authority for procuring the delivery of the goods. " Ahnost all sales follow immediately upon examination, and always with the intervention of a broker. The usual difficulty of taxing goods according to their value is diminished by the great experience of the sworn broker, and by the forfeiture of the goods, with a fine of ten per cent., in case of too low an estimate being given. For example : about six sorts of sugar of different quahties were laid out as samples ; the hogsheads or bags were brought in rapid succession ; and the valuer pierced a hole in each with a semi-circular iron, and drew out a sample ; this he compared with the sample on the table, and called out the number on the hogshead or bag, according to which the duty was fixed. All this passed with the greatest quiet, uniformity, and rapidity." As we have already intimated, the amount of duty collected in the Custom-house of London equals the entire amount collected in all the other ports of the United Kingdom. This necessarily creates an enormous amount of business. Captains of ships in the foreign trade reporting their arrivals ; passengers and luggage from the Continent under- going the disagreeable business of " inspection ;" officers arriving and departing on specific businesses; and clerks and messengers swarming on the staircase, and buzzing in the Long Room, some receiving information, others orders, and most, paying money, — all render the London custom-house a scene of not unquiet bustle, and of regular though perpetual stir — a sort of concentration and reflection of the industry, activity, and energy, of the trade and commerce of the Metropolis . w THE EGYPTIAN HALL, MANSION HOUSE, WITH THE WILSON BANQUET. The Lord Mayor of London, as lias been intimated in the notice of Guildhall, is invested with great powers, and has imposed upon him multifarious duties. As head of the Corporation, he presides over the Courts of Aldermen, Common Council, and Common Hall. He is Admiral of the Port of London, and Conservator of the Thames ; and during his year of office holds eight courts, two for each of the counties of Middle- sex, Surrey, Essex, and Kent, " to inquire into aU offences to the destruction of the fish, nuisances upon and impediments of the common passage of the Thames and the Med- way." He is first Commissioner of the Central Criminal Court, usually opening the monthly sessions in person; and he presides as judge in the Court of Hustings, the Supreme Court of Record in London, which is generally held once a week, whence it is frequently resorted to for obtaining judgments (as of outlawry) where expedition is required. And, in addition to other functions and honours, he is always summoned to the Privy Council which declares allegiance to a new sovereign, on a demise of the Crown ; and at the coronation Banquet he acts as chief butler, and receives for his fee a gold cup. The state which surrounds the Lord Mayor is kingly. His oflScial residence is the Mansion House — a misnomer, by the way, for to talk of a mansion house is nearly as absurd as to speak of West Minster Abbey. The Mansion House is a massive, but though heavy, not altogether unpicturesque pile of building, erected in the middle of last century (1739 — -1753) by Dance, an architect then of considerable reputation. The interior is splendidly fitted up ; the furniture of the state drawing-rooms, state bed -rooms, private dining-rooms, &c., being palatial in their character and accommodations; while the plate and jewelled ornaments are valued at from 20,000^. to 30,000^. In addition to the state and domestic apartments, there are the offices of the oflScial persons attached to the Lord Mayor's household ; and the justice-room, which is open to the public, where the Lord Mayor sits daily to administer justice; in cases requiring two magistrates to adjudicate upon, the alderman sitting by rotation^n the justice-room at the Guildhall, proceeds from thence to the Mansion House to join the Lord Mayor. In addition to the fulfilment of his manifold duties, which absorb a chief portion of 18 LONDON INTERIORS. his time, the Lord Mayor is expected, during his year of office, to maintain a siunp- tuous hospitality. From this cause the annual expenses of the mayoralty usually exceed the income by about 4000Z. The salary and allowances paid by the City towards the office amount to 64221., and other sums from various sources raise the official income to about 7900Z. But the expenditure, varying according to the disposition, taste, or means of the Lord Mayor, is usually from 10,000Z. to 12,000i. The great banquets of the Corporation are given in Guildhall : but the hospitality of the Lord Mayor is displayed in a noble room in the Mansion House, called the Egyptian Hall. This magnificent apartment, in which public meetings are occasionally allowed to be held, can dine, it is said, about foui hundred individuals com- fortably, though this number, with the addition of about a hundred attendants, gives the haU a crowded appearance. Here, from time to time, are entertained, with great state and splendour, the chief personages of the country, the ministers of the crown, the judges of the land, foreigners of distinction, and others; while, at set periods, the Corporation may be seen dining bodily with its head, and waited upon with all the state ceremony that surrounds the office of Lord Mayor. His place is a chair of state, or throne, at one end of the hall ; and the table at which he presides is, of course, the chief place of honour at the feast. Instead of selecting, for our engraving, one of those grand occasions when the Egyptian Hall is honoured with the presence of illustrious and noble personages, we have taken a more domestic, but very interesting spectacle, which occurred during the mayoralty of Mr. Alderman Wilson. It is the Banquet of the Wilson FamilYj of which some explanation is necessary. Mr. Alderman Wilson, who, in 1839, ffiled the office of Lord Mayor with munificence and taste, is one of the chiefs of a very large tribe of Wilsons, whos< locality is the City of London. For a long series of years this family — or rather tribe, for its ramifications are numerous — has held a name and a place, both in character and commerce, amongst the wealthy merchants of the " City." A large number of them, including Mr. Alderman Wilson himself, have grown rich in the silk trade ; and the Wilson Family is noted, no less for its pubhc and private virtues, than for its wealth and numerous connections. Mr. Alderman Wilson signalized his mayoralty, in 1839, with a princely and. tasteful hospitality, which excited very general admiration. Yet at the same time there was no waste, no extravagance. Carrying his business habits even into his pleasures, and regulating taste by economy, he was enabled, without being exposed to the charge of wanton expenditure, or of embarrassing any future occupant of the chair by a ruinous example, to throw around his office a splendour and dignity honourable at once to his public and his private character. THE EGYPTIAN HALL, MANSION HOUSE. 19 The Wilson BANauET took place in April, 1839. For the occasion the Egyptian Hall was decorated with unusual splendour ; and as it wa« not so crowded as on ordinary state banquets, the scene was very fine. Invitations had been sent out to nearly two hundred connections of the Wilson Family, being above the age of nine years ; only two exceptions on the point of age being permitted, one the grandson of the Bishop of Cal- cutta, and the other a favourite nephew, six years old, who acted as page to the Lord Mayor. At this famUy festival — this civic gathering of the clan Wilson — the usual civic state and ceremonial were maintained, the sword and mace being borne, &c. But after the Loving Cup had passed round, the attendants were dismissed, in order that free family intercourse might not be restricted during the remainder of this interesting and pleasant " re-union." After the usual toasts of the Queen, the Royal Family, &c., the Lord Mayor rose, and in a short but feeling speech welcomed his guests, and adverted to the recollections of his childhood, when a smaller, though still large, family party was wont to be assembled by his departed parents. He rejoiced, he said, in the opportunity now afforded him of once more assembhng so large a portion of his connections ; alluded with grateful ex- pression, to the circumstances which had enabled him so to do ; and assured his related guests that the present occasion would be regarded by himself and the Lady Mayoress as one of the brightest features of the Mayoralty. He then gave " Prosperity to the Wilson Family, root and branch." The oldest member of the family present (the party comprised one hundred and seventeen guests), in an interesting speech, gave a retrospective view of the history and state of the Wilson Family during three or four previous generations ; and different representatives of different branches also expressed their sentiments, amongst the speakers being Mr. Henry Wilson, formerly M. P. for Suffolk ; the Rev. William Wilson, Rector of Walthamstow ; and the Rev. Daniel Wilson, Vicar of Islington, and son of the Bishop of Calcutta. The healths of the Lord Mayor and the Lady Mayoress having been given, an album was handed round, in which every guest recorded his name, those engrafted by marriage signifying to whom. The whole party then stood and sang the Doxology, " Praise God from whom all blessings flow," and the ladies retiring, were soon after rejoined by the rest of the party in the Drawing-Room. We cannot resist the temptation of subjoining to this notice of the Banquet of the Wilson Family, the following humorous parody on " the Gathering of the Clans." It was composed by one of the Ladies Wilson, and literally composed by another, for it was issued from a private printing-press, and bears the following imprimatur : " Printed by £mily Mary Wilson, Grove Lane, Walthamstow, Essex." A copy of the parody was given to each guest at the Wilson Banquet. LONDON INTERIORS. THE GATHERING AT THE MANSION HOUSE IN 1839. Little know ye who's coming, Little know ye who's coming, Little know ye who's, coming, Tack and Tom and many are coming. Wilson's coming, MUls is coming, Moore is coming, Sperling's coming, ■ Oldham's coming, Giberne's coming, Jefferson and many are coming. WILSON'S GATHERING. Gather O Wilson ! Gather O Wilson ! The moon's on the Tower, And the fog's in Cheapside ; And the Clan has a name. That is named far and wide. Through the depths of old Thames Shall the war-steed career ; O'er the Monument's flame-peak The State Barge shall steer; And the Dome of St. Paul's By soft zephyrs be riv'n ; Ere our friends be forgot. Or our foes unforgiv'n. Then, Gather O Wilson ! TRUMPET OF CIVIC BAND. Sound aloud! Sound aloud! Trumpet of Civic Band. Wake thy wild voice anew, sound aloud through our land. Come away, come away, hark to the summons. Come in your best array, Gentles and Commons. Come from your own homes, from far and from near, Then shall the " loving cup" welcome you here. Come every Mantilla, and true heart that wears one, Come every Macintosh, and strong arm that bears one. Fast they come, fast they come, see how they're wending ; The Welsh plume, with wolf and with squirrel is blending. Cast your cloaks, draw your gloves, forward let each set. Trumpet of Civic Band, sound for we're well met I V^J .^4-*'"5' Z^Pt^^!, 21 KING'S COLLEGE. DISTRIBUTION OF THE PBIZES IN THE THEATRE, BY THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. The idea of founding a College in London, for the Education of Youth in con- nexion with the principles of the Established Church, having been favourably entertained in influential circles, it was submitted to the Public, at a meeting held in Freemasons' Hall on the 21st of Jime, 1828, over which the Duke of Wellington, then Prime Minister, presided. The royal approbation was signified by letters patent from George IV. ; and at a meeting of the promoters of the Institution held in Freemason's Hall on May 16th, 1829, Lord Bexley announced that Government had given the ground on the east side of Somerset House (originally intended to have been occupied by an east wing to that building) for the purposes of King's College. In that same year the ground was cleared for the buildings : and these, of which Sir Robert Smirke is the architect, were completed in 1831, when the Institution was opened. The Royal Charter of King's College bears date the 14th of August, 1829. It sets forth that " divers of our loving subjects" having agreed " to found a College for the education of Youth, either in the cities of London or Westminster, or somewhere in the immediate neighbourhood thereof," a petition had been presented for " a royal charter of incorporation." All, therefore, " to whom these presents shall come," are informed, that, " we, being desirous of maintaining indissolubly the connexion between soimd religion and useful learning, and highly approving the design of instituting a CoUege, in which instruction in the doctrines and duties of Christianity, as taught by the United Church of England and Ireland, shall be for ever combined with other branches of useftd education, and for the better carrying on the same, have, by virtue of our prerogative royal, and of our especial grace, certain knowledge, and mere motion, granted, constituted, and declared, &c. &c." The Institution is ordered to be called "King's College, London;" the Archbishop of Canterbury for the time being, is appointed the Visitor ; certain great OiSicers of State are appointed official governors ; and other arrangements are made for the perpetuation and regulation of the Institution. The buildings of King's College extend, in a straight line, from the Strand 22 LONDON INTERIORS. where is the principal entrance to the Thames. The original idea was to erect a structure conforming to the design, never carried into execution, for an east wing to Somerset House ; but this intention has not been strictly adhered to. The central building of King's College contains the Hall — the finest part of the structure — ^from whence two grand staircases lead to the theatre, lecture-rooms, museum, library, &c. Adjoining the Hall is the Secretary's office. Utility and convenience, rather than ftrchitectural display, have been considered in the erection of the buildings of King's College. The funds for founding the College have been supplied by subscriptions for shares of lOOl. each, and by donations. The present Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Howley, gave a donation of 1200Z. ; the late Archbishop, Dr. Sutton, 1000?. ; the Duke of Rutland, 5001. ; the Bishop of London, 400Z. ; and various individuals contributed various sums from 3001. down to a guinea. Colleges and Corporate bodies have also contri- buted to the funds ; and several individuals have made endowments, chiefly for the purpose of giving annual prizes to Students. One endowment was made by Major- General Sir Henry Worsley, for the purpose of educating two scholars, free of expense, with a stipend of 251. a year each, in aid of their maintenance. These Students are to be educated as Missionaries to the East. Among the benefactions is the Marsden Library, a collection of upwards of three thousand volumes, having reference chiefly to the study of Philosophy and Oriental Literature, which was presented in 1835, by WilHam Marsden, Esq., F.R.S. In the Museums there are collections which are the gifts of individuals ; and continual additions are made to the medical and general libraries, by donation as well as purchase. A School is attached to the College, into which pupils are admitted from nine to sixteen years of age. No Student is admitted into the College under sixteen years of age, except in cases of remarkable proficiency. And all matriculated Students are required, before they enter the College, to subscribe a declaration that they will conform to such rules and regulations as the Council shall lay down for the good government of the College. The proprietors, or shareholders, of King's College are entitled tc nominate to the School and to the College ; and Pupils and Students thus nominated are charged lower fees than others. The entrance-fee of the School, and the matricu- lation-fee of the College, are each a guinea ; Pupils in the School who are not nominated by a proprietor pay eighteen-guineas per annum, and those who are nominated pay fifteen guineas. In the College, the matriculated Students, who are not nominated, pay, in the department of General Literature and Science, the sum of 261. 5s. per annum, or 81. 15s. for the term or course ; in the Medical School, 57?. 15s. per annum ; in Civil Engineering and Science, 31?. 105. The nominated Students pay less. king's college. 23 I The prescribed course of general study in the College, in the department of Literal tore and Science, embraces, Religious instruction according to the principles of the United Church of England and Ireland ; the Greek and Latin Classics ; Mathematics ; English literature and composition ; History, ancient and modern ; and Logic. In the department of civil Engineering and science as applied to the Arts, the complete course of instruction extends over three years, and embraces an extensive range of instruction. The Students in the Medical department are recommended to spend four years in attending the various courses of medical lectures in the College ; in addition to which they have the benefit of King's College Hospital (for attendance on which certain fees have to be paid), and a medical library of about fifteen hundred volumes. Attached to the civil Engineering department, there is a workshop, where the Students are taught the use of tools and the construction of machinery ; and to the Chemical department there is attached an operative laboratory, where the Students receive instruction in chemical manipulation. The Students in Botany have also opportunities of attending the professor on herborizing excursions. The chairs in King's College have been and are filled by eminent men. Thus, in Geology, there have been Lyell, PhiDips, and at present Ansted ; in Political Economy, Nassau W. Senior, now one of the Masters in Chancery, and the Rev. Richard Jones, Tithe Commissioner for England and Wales ; in Zoology, Thomas Bell, F.R.S. ; in Chemistry, J. F. Daniell, Foreign Secretary of the Royal Society ; and in English litera- ture, the Rev. Thomas Dale. The name of Professor Wheatstone is also familiar to lovers of science— his department is that of Experimental Philosophy ; while the Rev. Henry Moseley ably fiUs the chair of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy. AU the pro- fessors are, in fact, men of high character in their respective departments ; the Medical department exhibiting such names as Professor Rymer Jones, Herbert Mayo, Richard Partridge, R. B. Todd, Francis and Bisset Hawkins, Forbes Royle, J. H. Green, &c. &c. — men who have filled, or are now filling, particular professorships, and whose reputations in their respective spheres stand far above mediocrity. The annual distribution of the prizes in King's College constitute important and animating events. The prizes consist of gold medals, books, &c. ; those given in the Medical Department are distributed in the month of May ; and those in the department? of General Literature and Science, including also the pupils of the School along witX students of the College, in the month of June. The prizes have been distributed, in the majority of instances, by the Archbishop of Canterbury ; the Bishops of London, Llandaff, and Winchester, have also occasionally performed the pleasing duty. Our engraving represents the distribution to the prizes of the Students in the general Department, and to the Pupils of the School, which are given in the month of June, and at which, since the institution of the College, with the exception of one or two 24 LONDON INTERIORS instances, the Archbishop of Canterbury has presided. On these occasions the theatre is always well attended, a great proportion of the spectators being ladies, who take a lively interest in what passes. But it is not the ladies alone who sympathize with the successfvd candidates, and who manifest the natural affectionate solicitude of mothers and sisters. The Students, and even the younger boys of the School, hail the rewards given to their successful competitors with bursts of generous enthusiasm : with them the " grapes" ire not " sour," but so good, that they seem as if all inspired with strong resolution to jueceed next year. Then the Professors evince so much kindly anxiety respecting their charges ; in their statements, while they " nothing extenuate," they set down " nought in malice :" and the Archbishop of Canterbury himself, by his staid and occasionally somewhat embarrassed manner, his air of kind benignity, his pleasant smile, and his appropriate, sagacious, though brief remarks, as he welcomes each successfal candidate, gives to the whole scene an aspect admirably suited to the occasion. The company on these occasions is generally very distinguished. Behind the Arch- bishop of Canterbury sit the Council, and their friends, amongst whom is almost always to be seen Sir Robert Harry Inglis, whose usual office it is to conclude the business of the day, by reviewing its proceedings, and moAong a vote of thanks to the Archbishop of Canterbury. HOUSE OF LORDS. THE QUEEN OPENING THE SESSION OP PARLIAMENT. The Houses of Lords and Commons being only temporary erections for the accom- modation of the Legislature, until the magnificent building now in progress shall be finished, we need not describe the interior of the Lords, or give any other idea of it beyond what the Engraving amply enough supplies. Both Houses are neatly fitted up, the Lords having the statelier or more regal aspect of the two ; but both are small and not very convenient, and are only tolerated as temporary buildings. The stranger who enters the House of Lords, on any ordinary occasion, either when it is sitting in its judicial capacity, as the highest court of justice in the kingdom, or in its legislative character, may be apt to be disappointed, if he come prepossessed with notions of its pomp and state. Its proceedings are, of course, conducted with dignified ceremonial ; but as, on all ordinary occasions, the peers are dressed in plain clothes, the novice, who is thinking of a profusion of robes and stars, may have his notions disturbed. The only persons who always appear in costume in the House, are the Lord Chancellor, the Bishops, the Judges, when they appear as such, the Masters of Chancery, who attend as the messengers of the Lords to the Commons, with the minor oflicials, clerks, &c. But on such grand occasions as the opening or closing of the Sessions of Parliament by the Sovereign 'in person, there is usually a display of pomp and state which make them brilliant scenes. The interior of the House, on such an occasion, presents the animated aspect exhibited in our Engraving. All the peers are in their robes ; and there is generally as large an assembly of ladies present as as can be accommodated, peeresses, who are present in their own right, or the wives, daughters, or other relations of peers, &c., admitted by tickets issued by the Lord Chamberlain. The opening of a Session of Parliament hy Commission is a tamer and much more sedate afiair. The only peers who are robed are the Commissioners, who take their seats in front of the throne. The Commons being summoned to the bar, the Royal Commission is read by the clerk, which is a somewhat tedious formality. The Com- mission sets forth that the Sovereign, not thinking it fit to be personally present, has 26 LONDON INTEKIORS. appointed certain Commissioners for the purpose, whose names and titles are set forth at full length. The clerk, as he comes to the name of each Commissioner, as " Arthur Duke of Wellington," bows to him, and the Commissioner named raises his cocked hat in acknowledgment. The Speech is read by the Lord Chancellor, as leading Commis- sioner, and a copy having been furnished to the Speaker of the Commons, the latter withdraws, and the ceremony is over. But when the Sovereign attends in person, — ^and especially when, as at present, the throne is filled by a Queen regnant, — the ceremony of opening the Session of Parliament is, as has been already intimated, a lively and interesting scene. A large number of people are usually in the streets, to witness the external procession; and successive salutes of ordnance in St. James's Park and at the Tower, announce the royal approach. On arrival at the House of Lords, Her Majesty is conducted to the robing-room, and there, attired in the royal robes, and attended by the great Officers of State, enters the House, and takes her seat on the throne. Since the Queen's marriage, there has been a slight change in the ceremonial of her entrance. His royal highness. Prince Albert, conducts the Queen to the throne, and then takes his seat in a chair of state, richly carved and gilt, which is placed on the left side of the throne, expressly for his accommo- dation. The Queen, on being seated, desires the Peers to be seated, and the Usher of the Black Rod is ordered to summon the Commons. In a few minutes the Speaker appears at the bar, attended by a crowd of Members ; and then the Lord Chancellor, on bended knee, presents the Speech to the Queen, who forthwith proceeds to read it. In our Engraving, the Lord Chancellor, bearing the purse, is on the right of the throne, with the Earl of Shaftesbury, holding the cap of maintenance, the Duke of Norfolk, as Earl Marshal, and the Duke of Somerset bearing the crown upon a cushion. On the left, in addition to Prince Albert in the chair of state, is the nobleman who holds the sword of state ; and in attendance on the Queen, are the ladies of the household, and other official personages. At the moment represented in our Engraving, the scene is unquestionably very fine — the ladies in their splendid dresses and towering plumes ; the foreign ambas- sadors, and other illustrious strangers ; the peers in their robes, &c. &c. ; all give it an aspect of brilliant animation The members of the Kouse of Lords, as the reader is doubtless aware, are divided into two classes. Lords Spiritual and Temporal. The Lords Spiritual are the two arch- bishops and twenty-four bishops of the English church, and one archbishop and three bishops from the Irish church : the Irish bishops have seats in the House of Lords by rotation. The question has been much discussed, by what right the Spiritual Lords have seats in the House ; and they have been represented as sitting there by virtue of the baronies annexed to their offices. But the bishops formed a chief portion of the *' Great I HOUSE OF LORDS. 27 Council" of Anglo-Saxon times, and were regarded as the most important and respon- sible advisers of the Sovereign. It is therefore more rational and convenient to consider that their right to sit in the House of Lords, arises from their having formed a chief portion of it in very early times, and long before the Legislature had assumed any thing like its present shape. Another question has also been discussed, Whether, as the Lords Spiritual and the Lords Temporal, though sitting together, form tvpo distinct estates of the realm, the concurrence of both is not requisite in any determination of the House of Lords ; just as the consent of both Lords and Commons is reqmsite to every determination of Parliament. It is now, however, settled, that the Lords Spiritual and Lords Temporal are but one body, whose joint will is to be collected by the gross majority of votes ; and statutes have been made in the absence of all the Spiritual Lords. The Lords Temporal now form the great body of the House of Lords, though, before the Reformation, they were equalled, if not outnumbered, by the Lords Spiritual. This was owing to the circumstance, that the superiors of many of the monastic establishments, under the names of abbots and priors, sat as Lords Spiritual. The suppression of these establishments greatly reduced the number of lords spiritual : but six more bishops were added to the House when the abbots and priors were removed. The great body of the House consists of hereditary Lords Temporal, with twenty- eight Irish peers, who are each elected for life, aiul sixteen Scottish peers, who are all elected for each new Parliament. There is no limit to the number of English hereditary peers, who sit by virtue of their descent, or as being created by the Crown, and their only qualification iS; that they be of full age, and not incapacitated by mental imbecility. The Lords Temporal, though each has an equal vote, are divided into classes, deno- minated dukes, marquises, earls, viscoimts, and barons ; and they rank according to precedency. But though each class has its particular place assigned to it in the House, the ceremonious forms are not observed, except on State occasions. The Lords, on all ordinary occasions, sit promiscuously, with the exception of the bishops, who always retain their places. The Lord Chancellor, by virtue of his office, presides as Speaker or Chairman of the House of Lords, but his authority is not so clearly defined, by any means, as is that of the Speaker of the House of Commons. But though Speaker of the House, by virtue of his office, the Chancellor can leave the woolsack, and deliver his sentiments in the course of any debate, — a right which is perpetually exercised : whereas the Speaker of the Commons is expected to preserve a strict neutrality. When the Lord Chancellor leaves the woolsack, some other noble lord, at his request, takes his seat for him : the Chairman of Committees (which office has been long ably filled by the Earl of Shaftes- bury) acts as deputy Speaker of the Lords. In addition to its legislative character, the House of Lords has supreme judicial d2 28 LONDON INTEKIORS. functions ; and it tries individuals who are impeached by the CommonB ; peers on indictment; hears and determines appeals from decisions of the Court of Chancery, as well as other appeals. When sitting as a court of justice, the House is open to the public, and the visitor may walk in unquestioned into the space below the bar. The peers in attendance on these occasions are usually only two or three law Lords ; it may be the Chancellor, with, one or two ex-ChanceUors, and prehaps a judge who has retired from the bench. Judges are not members of the House of Lords by virtue of their office. They are formally summoned to attend the House to give their advice, and on some particular occasions are expressly called on to do so. But it is only such of the judges as have been created peers that can sit and vote, which, of course, they do by virtue of their peerage and not of their office. i ^ sm THE EEADING-ROOM AND LIBRARY THE BRITISH MUSEUM. The British Museum is perhaps the only truly national Institution belonging to this country. The National Gallery is still too limited, though it is gradually extending, and wUl, doubtless, be one day worthy of the national character. Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's are national buildings ; so also is the Tower ; but each has a distinctive character, that, to a certain extent, interferes with the idea of their nationality, while the restrictions under which they are still seen, tend still more to diminish their pubhcity. It is not our present intention to give a description of the British Museum, which, surely, no visitor of London, however hurried, misses an opportunity of visiting. Its extensive and varied collections — its antiquities, sculptures, marbles, mummies, minerals, birds, insects, &c. &c. — its contributions from the worlds of nature and of art ; from all past time, and from almost every region of science — constitute materials for many a repeated visit. But though not describing the British Museum, we may remind the reader that it owes its origin to a very worthy and a very eminent man, whose memory deserves to be held in perpetual remembrance. Sir Hans Sloane, during a long practice as a physician, and with the enthusiasm of a lover of natural history, had gathered a large collection of books, manuscripts, objects of interest and curiosity in nature and art, &c. &c. ; and these he directed his executors to offer to the British ParHament for the sum of £20,000. The offer was accepted ; and the collection having been augmented by the addition of the Cottonian Library of MSS., which belonged to the nation, measures were taken, which resulted in placing the British Museum, where it has ever since remained, in Montague House, a large building originally erected by the Duke of Montague for his residence. The Museum was opened for public inspection on the 15th of January, 1759. The Library, which forms so important a department of the British Museum, has gradually become, by successive donation and purchase, a very extensive collection, comprising valuable manuscripts, rare books, and printed works in all languages. There 30 LONDON INTERIORS. are some of the Continental Libraries which exceed it in extent : still, when we know that it contains at present 225,000 printed books, and 22,500 manuscripts, we must admit that it is a very large, as it is also, on the whole, a very complete Library. The Library of the British Museum contains two distinct collections, which are kept wholly separate : these are, the General Library, and the King's Library. The King's Library was that of George III., which was presented, in 1823, to the Museum, by George IV., with the condition of keeping it distinct and separate. The Hall which contains the King's Library is a noble apartment, 300 feet in lengtli, attd 41 in width between the walls at either end ; in the centre the width is increased to 65 feet ; and the height is 30 feet. In the centre are four fine columns of granite. Visitors of the Museum are admitted into this Hall. The King's Library is neither augmented nor diminished ; but the general or common Library is annually augmented by gift, purchase, &c. The extensive collection of MSS. in the Library is divided into classes, known by the names of their original collectors or founders. Thus, there is the Cottonian collection, which was gathered by the celebrated antiquary, Sir Robert Cotton, and given by his grandson, in 1700, to Parliament, for the use of the nation ; and which was transferred to the Museum, when it was founded in 1757. This collection has been very useful to our chief national historians and antiquaries ; Camden, Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Bacon, Selden, Sharon Turner, and Lingard, who all acknowledge their obligations to it. Be- sides the Cottonian, there are the Harleian, Sloanean, and Lansdowne MSS. — the latter collection having been bought in 1807 ; the Burney MSS., chiefly of the Greek and Latin classics ; collections by Rich, the son-in-law of Sir James Macintosh, made while he was Consul at Bagdad ; along with a great number of other collections, acquired either by gift or purchase. The ancient rolls and charters, many thousands in number, partly belonging to the Cottonian, Harleian, and Sloanean collections, form a distinct division of the MSS. For a long time the Library and Reading-room of the British Museum were used only by a very few individuals — scholars, antiquaries, historians, and collectors of curiosities of literature. The attendants of the Reading-room had quite a sinecure in these " good old days," when perhaps they had not above half-a-dozen individuals to accommodate with books. In fact there was no provision made for a large number of visitors ; and the crowds that now attend, would have quite horrified those tranquil souls of the olden time, whose solitary researches were only interrupted by an occasional foot- fall. We have now reached the opposite extreme ; too many visitors frequent the Reading- rooms, to allow either of comfort or quiet to those whose object requires quiet and care. The rapid increase of visitors to the Reading-room of the Museum, with a demand for additional space for the general purposes of the Institution, led to the erection of an extensive addition to the old buildings. This new suite of apartments was opened in LIBRARY OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 31 1838, and two of them have been expressly designed as Reading-rooms. The entrance to the old Reading-rooms was by the main gateway of the British Museum ; but the new Reading-rooms have an exclusive entrance in Montague-place, behind the Museum. These new rooms aiford ample accommodation for 170 persons ; about 230 visit them daily, on an average, of whom perhaps eight or ten are ladies — ^literary ladies, of course. The rooms are spacious and well-proportioned ; but they have little architectural deco- ration, beyond what they derive from their ceilings, in each compartment or panel of which there is a rosette or flower, which serves as a ventilator, as well as for ornament. The floors are of oak, and have a slip of marble along the centre, and underneath the book-cases ; and the rooms are warmed by Perkins' hot water apparatus, the heat being admitted through low insulated pedestals. The presses round the Reading-rooms are filled with works of reference, cyclo- paedias, dictionaries, lexicons, sets of magazines, the printed proceedings and journals of societies, topographical and geographical works, county histories, &c. &c. These are open to the readers, who can rise from their seats to consult them, or carry volimies of them to the tables where they are sitting. But in order to obtain a work from the Library, the reader consults the catalogue, writes the title of the work which he wants in a ticket, printed forms of which are left in abundance for the use of all, and having filled it up in the precise manner required, and put the date, and his or her name, the ticket is handed to an attendant, who is stationed behind a counter, at the head of the main room. The reader, having returned to his seat, waits till an attendant brings his book or books, the time consumed in which may be longer or shorter, according to the number waiting to be supplied. The attendants quickly learn to distinguish the person of a reader, though with a stranger, or with readers whose visits are " few and far between," there may be occasional delays or mistakes. The regular " literary man," who wishes to do a " good day's work," generally starts for the Reading-rooms as soon after breakfast as he can. He thus arrives before the rooms become crowded, consults the folio volumes of catalogue without being jostled, gets his books without much delay, secures a good seat, with " elbow" room, and falls to work as heartily as he may. Towards the middle of the day the rooms become crowded, especially at certain seasons of the year, and sometimes it is difiiciilt to obtain a seat. Hither come the critics, the cyclopaedists, the artists, and the writers in periodical works ; here they hunt over the remains of the past, — old manuscripts and old books, old prints and old maps, — which are made available as supplies to feed the river of literature. In addition to these, come loungers and idlers, and sometimes individuals to whom a common circulating library would be of more use. It may be necessary to remind our readers that though visitors to the British Museum are admitted indiscriminately, without inquiry or hindrance, such is not the 32 LONDON INTERIORS. case with the Reading-rooms. To obtain admission, the apphcant must obtain the sanction of the chief librarian, with whom there is no diflBculty, provided the applicant is known, or is recommended by any respectable or responsible individual. Once admitted, the visitor of the Reading-room walks in and out unquestioned. Our Engraving exhibits the main or chief Reading-room, and the desk near the entrance, at which some figures are represented as standing, is the place where the catalogues of the printed books are deposited, and to which the readers proceed, in order to write down the titles, dates, and library-marks of such works as they may require. To procure MSS., Parliamentary documents, and some works of a distinctive nature, it is necessary to proceed into the adjoining room. EXETER HALL. About twelve or thirteen years ago, a huge, ugly, clumsy building, called Exeter 'Chanoe, jutted out into the Strand, obstructing and deforming the street. It is stated to have been built in the reign of William and Mary, and took its name from some adjoining mansion of the bishops of Exeter. The lower story, at the beginning of last century, was appropriated to the shops of milliners ; and upholsterers had the upper. Here, also, exhibitions were held ; and at last a portion of it was parcelled off into cages for a menagerie ; and all visitors of London were expected to see the wild beasts at Exeter 'Change, as well as the lions at the Tower. " Passing one day," says Leigh Hunt, " by Exeter 'Change, we beheld a sight strange enough to witness in a great thoroughfare — a fine horse startled, and pawing the ground, at the roar of lions and tigers. It was at the time, probably, when the beasts were being fed." When it was resolved to pull down Exeter 'Change, and to widen the Strand, some of the influential leaders and movers in the religious world started the scheme of building an edifice, to be appropriated exclusively to the uses of religious and benevolent societies. Hitherto there had been no central point of union ; though some of the chief societies were in tbe habit of using the Hall of Freemasons' Tavern — of which a delineation is given in No. II. of our Interiors. — The project of erecting Exeter Hall on the site of Exeter 'Change was taken up in 1829, by a company of shareholders, who also received donations in aid of their design. The building was completed and opened in 1831. The stranger walking along the Strand might miss Exeter Hall, unless he looked sharp. The entrance is of an ornamental character, but being narrow, and flanked with shops, it is apt to be passed in the bustle of the Strand. It is a porch or portico, formed of two Corinthian pillars, with a flight of steps from the pavement. But the building extends a great way back. The great Hall is 90 feet broad, 138 in length, and 48 high, and is lighted by eighteen large windows. It will hold 3000 persons with comfort, I 34 LONDON INTEKIORS. and 4000 crowded. The platform is at the ease end, and can accommodate 500 personF : it is fenced from the rest of the Hall by a railing. Underneath the great Hall is a smaller one, for meetings of a more limited character than those which the large Hall is destined for ; and there are various rooms appropriated to the use of societies or com- mittees. Sometimes there are meetings in both Halls at the same time ; and a speaker in the lower room will occasionally be annoyed by the reverberations of the thunders of applause shaking the larger room above him. It is only societies of a religious or moral nature which hold their meetings in Exeter Hall. But although the societies are thus apparently of a similar nature, having similar objects in view, there are, in reality, very considerable varieties in their characteristics. From the latter end of the month of April to the conclusion of May, is the great season for the annual meetings of societies ; and of these, perhaps the most catholic and comprehensive in its character is that of the British and Foreign Bible Society. The magnitude of its operations, its professed freedom from all merely local or narrow interests, and the great principle of its action, the diffusion of the Bible alone, render its meetings exceedingly pleasing, though not now exciting. The annual meeting of the London Missionary Society is also an exceedingly interesting one : the Hall is always crowded long before the proceedings commence, and ladies are to be found at the doors as early as seven o'clock in the morning, waiting till their opening at eleven. The speakers at the meetings held in Exeter Hall are frequently no less varied in their characteristics, than are the societies on whose account they appear. Digni- taries of the church, members of the aristocracy, dissenting ministers, distinguished foreigners, philanthropists, eloquent speakers, plain members of the Society of Friends, and sometimes, as at Temperance Meetings, individuals in humble walks of life, address the audiences. All kinds of sounds, and all kinds of action, are exhibited. Classic English, broad Scotch, and strong Irish accents are heard, mingled with provincial sourids, such as Yorkshire or Northumberland ; some speakers stand perfectly composed, others appear as if awed into fear by the " sea of heads" before them, while some raise voices that fill the vast Hall, and others utter mild and even lachrymose sounds. The audience, too, usually evince their approbation in various ways. A solemn appeal to the feelings is answered by a whirring noise, which, commencing at the platform, eddies round the Hall ; some anecdote, told in a taking manner, provokes shouts of laughter, and the audience may be seen, all looking at each other, and then at the speaker, some faces stretched into broad grins, others dimpled with smiles : the announcement of the name of a favourite speaker is the signal for a hurricane of applause ; and when one sits down who had given anything like a good speech, he gets value received in a noise, which, if it makes his heart glad, may also make his head ache. It is marvellous how EXETER HALL. 35 some of the ladies get through the " May Meetings ;" they sit for hours in a crowded Hall, and every now and then are inspired by tumults of applause which might waken the " seven sleepers." But, after all, a good shout of applause is an exceedingly stirring thing, and without these animating noises the meetings would be dull. From April to the end of May in each year, there may be about thirty different societies which hold their annual meetings in Exeter Hall — including, under that term, both the larger and smaller Halls. Freemasons' Hall, Hanover-square Rooms, and the London Tavern, are still occasionally made use of by societies of a professedly religious or moral character : but Exeter Hall is the locality of the greater number bearing that distinctive nature. Except in the spring season, the meetings in Exeter Hall are " few and far between :" but while some of the rooms are occasionally let for the exhibition of pictures, &c., others are permanently occupied by secretaries and com- mittees. The Hall is used by the Sacred Harmonic Society, whose oratorios are well attended by the citizens of London. The meeting in Exeter Hall represented in our Engraving, was that of the Society for the Extinction of the Slave Trade and the Civilization of Africa, which was held on the 1st of June, 1841, and at which His Royal Highness Prince Albert presided. We arrived before nine o'clock in the morning, and the spacious Hall was all but crowded ; in a few minutes it was literally choked full. Two hours had yet to elapse before business was to commence ; but it is marvellous how time passes when gazing on a crowd. Gradually, the Platform, which had presented a some- what empty contrast to the crowded Hall, became full ; and every now and then crack- ling applauses intimated the successive entrances of the more distinguished or illustrious personages, who came either to take a part in the proceedings, or to grace the meeting with their presence. Precisely at eleven o'clock, the hour appointed for opening the proceedings, a bustle was discernible ; a number of individuals entered, and one of them, a handsome-looking young man, was ushered into the huge and comfortable chair. The audience received His Royal Highness Prince Albert, on this his first appearance at any public meeting in England, with a very enthusiastic expression of satisfaction ; and after the organ had pealed out the national anthem, the proceedings of the day commenced. The platform, on this occasion, was crowded by some of the most distinguished men amongst the lords and commons of Britain ; while, amongst other foreigners, M. Guizot, the eminent philosopher and statesman, the French ambassador in this country, occupied a conspicuous position. Shortly after this meeting, another one took place in Exeter Hall, of a similar character, at which his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex presided. This was the Annual Meeting of the British and Foreign . Anti-Slavery Society, which had been preceded by the celebrated Convention or Congress of Anti-Slavery Delegates from e2 36 LONDON INTERIORS. all parts of the world, and whose sittings had been held in Freemasons' Hall. Thib meeting was also a very remarkable one. The Duke of Sussex, as we have stated, pre- sided; beside him sat the venerable Thomas Clarkson, tottering, as it were, into the grave, yet still spared to see a scene worth living for ; and feeble as he was, he was able to give utterance to sentiments eloquent for their unaffected and beautiful simplicity. The platform was crowded with men and women whose conditions, characters, and reU- gious principles afforded striking contrasts. M. Gruizot was seen shaking hands with Mrs. Fry — the great expounder of the history of civilization sitting side by side with 3 lady who has earned the reputation of a Howard, in the practical exemplification of the civilizing influence of religion. Amongst the speakers were a French philanthropist, au American Judge, a man of colour, and an English missionary. The meetings at Exeter Hall are not, however, invariably a source of splendid intellectual excitement. A treat they are, undoubtedly, to all who take an interest in the proceedmgs of societies whose objects are the good of their fellow-men. But it is not always that the meetings can boast of a succession of good speakers. Not seldom a kind-hearted prosy old man will spin a tedious yarn ; or a timid young one, abashed at so many eyes staring full upon him, will tremulously hesitate, and perhaps rally with difficulty, even though buoyed on by a cheer. And yet, if a man possess a certain amount of rhetorical power, it is not difficult to make an impression at Exeter Hall, for the audiences are, on the whole, the most tolerant in the world. 37 THE COUET OF COMMON COUNCIL. PRESENTATION OF A PETITION TO THE BAR OF THE COURT. In our notice of Guildhall, the different Companies or Guilds of London were stated to have a relation to the Corporation, not unsimilar to that borne by the Colleges and Halls of Oxford and Cambridge to their respective Universities. Each Company or Guild is an independent body, possessing property in its own right, and governed by its own laws. But from these Companies are furnished the chief materials of the Corporation — the governing power of the City of London. As is well known, the Guilds originated in a voluntary association, just as Friendly Societies and Benefit Clubs are formed now. In early times, it was very natural for the members of each particular craft or mastery (mistery, not mystery) to combine for their particular benefit — hence the origin of trading Guilds, a great number of whom, remaining to this day, in London, have becom.e very rich, upwards of eighty being in actual existence, and twelve of them signalized as the " Twelve great Companies." It is not, however, absolutely necessary to belong to some one of the Companies, in order to be a constituent of the Corporation. It was so formerly ; for, except in cases where the honorary freedom of the City was conferred by a formal vote of the Corporation, no person could be admitted as a freeman, who had not become a member of one of the Companies, by birth, apprenticeship, purchase, &c. But now, resident housekeepers of the City are admitted, on application, to the freedom of the Corporation, by vote of the Common Council. Originally, the civic affairs of the City were managed by the entire body of the citizens, all of whom, of whatever craft or mastery they might be, had a right to be present, and to vote in the business of the Corporation. But gradually a practice grew up of delegating the business of the City to a smaller number, having more time, more inclination, or more judgment than their fellow-citizens. The entire community still retained the right of doing what they pleased, and were not obliged to follow the sugges- tions of their administrators and advisers. But the practice of leaving the management 38 LONDON INTERIORS. of general affairs in the hands of a few became every day more convenient, as the com- munity increased in numbers and opulence ; and it received formal sanction in the reigTi of Edward III. Still, the community retained the power of overruling the practice of the Corporation managers : but at last, in the seventh year of Richard II., it formally parted with its power, the entire community, in Common Hall assembled, passing a law, which may be regarded as the formal and legal foundation of the Court of Common Council — the Civic Pakliament of London. For municipal purposes, London is divided into twenty-six wards, each ward having an Alderman, and a certain number of Common Councilmen, varying in number for each ward, from four to seventeen. The Alderman of each ward is elected for life, at a meeting of the ward called a Wardmote ; and the electors of the ward are such house- holders as are freemen of the City, and pay local taxes to the amount of thirty shillings per annum. Should a person be elected as alderman, who refuses to serve, he is liable to a fine of five hundred pounds, half the amount for refusing to serve the office of Lord Mayor. But cases of refusal are of rare occurrence, civic dignities being objects more keenly contended for than rejected. There is one ward the alderman of which has no local duties to perform, and properly speaking, no constituents, whatever he might have had when London Bridge was covered with houses — the Ward of the Bridge, or Bridge Without. To this honorary post is appointed the senior Alderman, who is thus acknow- ledged as the " Father of the City." But the other twenty-fiye Aldermen have local duties to perform ; and each of them, therefore, appoints a Deputy, from amongst the Common Councilmen of the ward. The Common Councilmen are elected annually, on Saint Thomas's day, at a Wardmote, the electors being the same as in the election of Aldermen. Any qualified freeman householder, when elected as a Common Councilman, would be liable to fine and disfranchisement for not serving : but cases of this kind are rare, for the post of Common Councilman is as eagerly coveted by the general body of the citizens of London, as in other circles is the post of a member of the House of Commons. A large portion of the civic business is delegated to Committees ; and thus the more influential and active of the Common Council are thereby nominated to various Committees, and have various executive functions to fulfil. The Civic Parliament of the City of London bears the title of "The Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Commons of the City of London, in Common Council assembled." The Aldermen constitute a kind of upper house, holding courts of their own : but the Common Council meets under the presidency of the Lord Mayor, (or, in his absence, of any alderman acting as his locum tenens, or deputy), and all the aldermen attend as of right. No Court of Common Council can be constituted, unless there be present the same number of members as are requisite to constitute a sitting of the House of Com- THE COURT OF COMMON COUNCIL. 39 mons — namely, forty : which number must be made up of the Lord Mayor (or his deputy) as President, and of one or more Aldermen with Common Councilmen. Thus constituted, the Court of Common Council can proceed to business. Any matter of a general nature may be brought before it by any member; and it is well known that general political subjects have been entertained and discussed in the Common Council, with an earnestness and eloquence only inferior to Parliament itself. The Common Council has large power in the affairs of the Corporation. The Common Seal of the City can be applied to any instrument, only by its order ; and thus it holds the right over the landed property belonging to the City. Various important civic functionaries are also appointed by the Common Council : the Recorder is appointed by the Court of Aldermen, but to the Common Council at large (including, of course, the Aldermen) belong the appointments of the Common Serjeant, the Town Clerk, and a variety of others of the numerous functionaries of the Corporation. All the official appointments of the Corporation are regarded as being worth a contest by the different classes who consider themselves eligible to them ; and accordingly, the election, espe- cially of a superior functionary by the Common Council, is a matter of some bustle and importance. There are two hundred and forty Common Councilmen, who with the twenty-six Aldermen (one of them being Mayor) make the Civic Parliament to consist of two hundred and sixty-six members. The officers of the Corporation, in addition to the Sheriffs, are — the Recorder ; Town Clerk ; Common Serjeant ; Judge of the Sheriff's Court, who acts as Deputy Judge of the Central Criminal Court ; the four Common Pleaders ; the two Secondaries ; the two Under-Sheriffs ; Comptroller of the Chamber : the Remembrancer ; Solicitor and Clerk Comptroller of the Bridge House ; Coroner for London and Southwark ; Clerk of the Peace ; Bailiff of Southwark ; the four Attorneys of the Mayor's Court ; the four Auditors of the City and Bridge House Accounts ; Clerk of the Chamber ; the two Bridge Masters or Wardens ; the three Esquires, and other officers of the Lord Mayor's household ; the four Harbour Masters, and other officers connected with the Port of London and Mooring Chain services ; the Clerks and Assistant Clerks to the Lord Mayor and sitting Magistrates in London and Southwark ; the Keepers, Ordinary, Chaplains, and Surgeons of the several Prisons in the City ; the Superintendent of Police, the City Marshals, and other officers connected with the Police of the City, ' and sundry officers employed in the civil government of the Corporation, collection of the Revenue, the Markets, &c. &c. The apartment at Guildhall which is appropriated to the sittings of the Court OF Common Council is gorgeously hung with crimson silk, and decorated with a very appropriate collection of paintings and sculpture, as may be seen from our Engraving, The view, which is taken from the further extremity of the room, exhibits the entire apartment; and the scene is the presentation of the Petition against the Coal Monopoly, which took place during the Mayoralty of Mr. Alderman Wilson, in 1839. It is not ac 40 LONDON INTERIORS. unfrequent occurrence for individuals to be admitted to the bar of the Court, in order to address the members in support of petitions presented ; at one time a clergyman argues in support of a grant of money from the corporation funds in aid of a Charity ; or delegates from the United States plead for assistance to a college for which they are collecting contributions ; or, perhaps, Lord Dudley Stuart approaches the Bar, to ask for the use of Guildhall for a ball in favour of the distressed Poles, and to entreat the patronage of the Corporation of London in favour of the object. In the Engraving, the Lord Mayor is represented as in the Chair, and the members of the Court seated on each side of the room. Outside the Bar are the individuals who are supporting the prayer of the Petition presented : with a number of strangers, some of whom are ladies. It is only of late years that the public have been allowed to be present at the sittings of the Court of Common Council ; but members have a similar privilege to that of members of the House of Commons — they can take notice of the presence of " strangers," and cause them to withdraw. The senior law officers of the City have seats in the Court, but have no vote, and do no speak unless called upon to do so. Behind the Chair of the Lord Mayor is a statue of George the Third, by Chantry ; and of the busts, there is a fine ideal head of Nelson, by the Hon. Mrs. Damer ; a mili- tary head of Wellington, by Turnerelli ; and two others, one by Chantry of Granville Sharp, and another by Behnes of the venerable Clarkson. The portraits represent illustrious individuals distinguished for rank or conduct, amongst which may be mentioned that of Her present Majesty, painted by Hayter, and the late Queen Caroline, by Lonsdale. Other portraits exhibit noted members of the Corporation, whose activity or virtues the Court has thought fit to commemorate in this way. Conspicuous amongst these is the celebrated Shakesperian printseller. Alderman Boydell, by Beechey. Amongst the pictures mostly of historical scenes, the following are of the highest character, and may be pronounced worthy not only of civic, but national regard : — Lord Mayor Walworth killing Wat Tyler, painted by Northcote ; Murder of David Rizzio, by Opie, and Lord Heathfield's Defence of Gibraltar, by Copley (the father of the present Lord Chancellor, Lyndhurst). On Lord Mayor's night, the 9th of November, this noble chamber, fitted up as a drawing-room, is used by the Lady Mayoress for the reception of the Company. The presentations on this occasion equal in ceremony and splendour those of the Court itself. It is much to be regretted that the Chief Magistrate of the first city in the world is frequently an obscure, illiterate tradesman ; and it sometimes happens that the persoi. filling this distinguished office is as much bankrupt in principle m in circumstances — and this evil arises in a great measure from electing Lord Mayors from among the Aldermen in their turn, without regard to character or qualification : in fact, no banker, merchant, or gentleman of any respectability, will now-a-days descend to accept the office. 'I for »hc >'ro|>rietoi'. by . ST. GEORGES' CHURCH, HANOVER SQUARE. CELEBKATION OF A NOBLE MARRIAGE. Though London abounds with churches and chapels, there are very few which cake high rank as architectural structures, with the exception of the two cathedrals, Westminster and St. Paul's, and a few which combine antiquarian and historical interest, with their architectural claims. There are a few old churches — such, for instance, as the Temple church (a beautiful structure since its renovation), having some peculiar claims on atten- tion ; and some of the more modern churches possess striking features : but, consideiing the number of our ecclesiastical edifices, we cannot boast of many which, as complete efforts of art and skill, stand out as ornaments of the Metropohs. After the " Great Fire," numerous parish churches arose, under the superintendence of Sir Christopher Wren, and other architects, his pupils; and, at the same period, what is now the " West End," began to be formed, commencing with an occasional mansion, street, square, and church, until the fields were covered. Soho and Golden squares, now comparatively mean and inferior, were built before the close of the seventeenth century; but Hanover and Cavendish squares, which still maintain a certain rank and consequence, were erected between the years 1716 and 1720. Shortly afterwards arose three churches, each noted for a portico, in the Corinthian style, and each having some distinguishing characteristics, as places of fashionable resort, two of them in particular. These churches are St. George's. Bloomsbury, with its peculiar steeple ; St. Martin's, once " in the fields," but which is now in one of the busiest sites of the West End ; and St. George's, Hanover-square, the interior of which is exhibited in our Engraving. St. George's does not stand in Hanover-square, but in George-street, leading into the square; and, for the benefit of the uninitiated in West End localities, we may intimate that Hanover-square is in the vicinity of Bond-street and Regent-street. From the period of its erection, now upwards of a century ago, St. George's, Hanover-square, has been what is termed a "fashionable" church. It arose in a district which had just been erected for, and inhabited by, the noble and the wealthy, as distinguished from the merchants and traders of the " City ;" and though, with the increase of the "West End," numerous other churches have sprung up, whose congregations are composed of perhaps even a more aristocratic 42 LONDON INTEKIORS. assemblage than now worships in it, still, St. George's, Hanover-square, has maintained at least one peculiar distinction, that it is the favoured place for the celebration of what are known as " fashionable marriages;" those events in the circles of high life so in- teresting, and sometimes, where much property is concerned, so important. The fashionable distinction of the church is proclaimed by the panels in front of the galleries, whereon are inscribed the names of the individuals who, in successive years, have officiated as churchwardens ; amongst which appear, "thick and threefold," the names of lords and honourables. Like too many of the public buildings of London, the Church of St. George, Hanover-square, is so placed, that the architectural effect of the exterior is lost on the spectator. The comparatively narrow street in which it stands prevents the portico from being seen to advantage ; and the interior disappoints expectation, though it has some good features. Different architectural orders are employed ; the Composite pillars of the nave are elevated on Tuscan, Ionic pillars support the organ gallery, and there are other incongruities which mar the general effect, and give to the interior a heavy and disproportioned appearance. The pulpit is handsome and striking. Our Engraving exhibits the chief architectural features of the interior of St. George's, Hanover-square — the arched recess, the painted window, the pulpit, and the altar-piece, set in its sculptured framework. There are three painted windows ; two smaller (in addition to the central one), which Kght the galleries, a portion of one being visible in our Engraving. The central window is a somewhat unusual exhibition for a modern Protestant structure in this country, though in more recent structures the example has been followed, to some extent. The arch of the recess over the window is ornamented with rosettes ; and the window-arch springs from entablatures, supported by Corinthian columns, the effect of which, in combination with the window, is unquestionably fine. The chief figure on the window is the Virgin and Child, over whom appears the Dove, and below a figure of the Crucifixion ; a number of other figures, representing ecclesiastical personages, are intro- duced, with masonic emblems. The picture of the Last Supper, by Sir James Thornhill, is of great merit, and some of the heads exhibit much expression. St. George's, Hanover-square, is, as we have said, the favoured place for the cele- bration of marriages in high life, — where, in facie ecclesice, publicly, and before the church, the noble and the wealthy appear to contract what, alas, in the higher walks of life, is not always regarded as a sacred and indissoluble union. Here, when a notable marriage is to take place, which has been the theme of the public prints, and of private expectation, for months previously, the church may be seen crowded with spectators, the ladies especially mainly anxious to behold the bride, in jewelled pomp, given away by some illustrious personage, and accepted by the titled bridegroom "for better for worse, for richer for poorer." But it "is not always that "fashionable marriages" are ST. George's church, hanover square. 43 celebrated in the midst of a crowd of gazing spectators. A few carriages dash up to the doors of the church ; a select circle of friends are present ; the ceremony is performed ; and shortly afterwards, the "happy pair," as the phrase is, are on their way to some country seat, where they intend to pass the " honeymoon," before " starting for the continent." Before the year 1763, the mere consent of parties constituted a valid marriage in England, though the general mode was to celebrate marriages with religious rites. common notion prevailed, that if a person in holy orders performed the celebration of the contract, the marriage was indissoluble, whether performed in a church or a tavern. Hence arose the practice of what were called Fleet marriages ; that is, marriages which, originally performed in the chapel of the Fleet Prison, became, at last, as a common practice, to be celebrated by degraded clergymen in taverns. The various tavern-keepers in the neighbourhood of the prison fitted up rooms in their houses as chapels, and some of them kept parsons on their establishments, at weekly salaries; while most had individuals employed to decoy or entrap people into their chapel-shops. The original cause of the nuisance of what were called Fleet marriages, lay in the circumstance of the chapel of the Fleet being one of several chapels in privileged places in London, which claimed exemption from episcopal visitation. There was also a chapel in the parish of Hampstead, called Sion Chapel, which belonged to the keeper of an adjoining tavern, who, by his advertisements, invited the public out to his establishment, where parties could be married, and afterwards spend the day agreeably in his grounds. Another chapel, called, after the name of the minister, Keith Chapel, was famous for the number of marriages celebrated at it. But the Fleet marriages were the worst of all ; and they became so enormous a nuisance, that the Legislature at last interfered, and passed the Marriage Act of 1753. The marriage law of 1753 declared all marriages celebrated without license or pub- lication of banns to be null and void ; and aii cersons who celebrated such marriages were declared guilty of felony. No marriages, therefore, could be celebrated in England, except by license or proclamation of banns, until the year 1836, when the Marriage Act was passed, which enables all who dissent from the Church of England, or even any member of the church who chooses to adopt the mode, to be married either in a dissenting chapel, or in the office of the superintendent registrar. The object of this Act (the 6th and 7th AViUiam IV., c. 85) was to ease those who scrupled at joining the services of the established church, and who are left, therefore, ta celebrate their marriages with or without religious rites. Among Protestants, marriage has ceased to be regarded as a sacrament, though in most Protestant countries the entrance into the marriage state has continued to be accompanied with religious ob- servances. Notwithstanding the liberty dissenters have of being married in their own k 44 LONDON INTEEIORS. chapels, and by their own ministers, the " fair portion of creation " seem still to consider the service of the church most binding ; and the larger number of weddings still con- tinue to be celebrated according to the rites of the estabhshed church. Amongst the numerous churches with which the metropolis is studded, St. Ste- phen's, Walbrook, is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful, — indeed, it is more celebrated on the continent, than the cathedral of St. Paul, or Westminster Abbey. — Although there was a church in this parish so early as the year 1135, yet the site on which the present elegant edifice is erected was not thus occupied until the year 1429. The first stone of the new church was laid in 1672, and in 1679 it was completed. The interior of this church is allowed to be of the most beautiful and matchless architecture. Externally it displays no architectural attractions ; but the interior is calculated to gratify every lover of the art. The walls enclose an area of eighty-two feet from east to west, by fifty-nine feet from north to south. The roof is supported and the area divided by sixteen Corinthian columns, eight of which sustain an hemispherical cupola* adorned with caissons, and having a lantern-light in ihe centre. •. . . ib BANQTJETTING HOUSE, WHITEHALL; DISTRIBUTION OF THE MAUNDY MONEY. Nearly opposite the Horse Guards, is the large handsome building (now chiefly appropriated to Government oflSces), which is known as " The Banquetting House, Whitehall." This edifice, one of the earliest and finest specimens in London of what is called the ** Italian style," and which certainly ranks as one of the most beautiful buildings in the Metropolis, is only a fragment of a magnificent design by Inigo Jones for a Royal Palace, which was to have been erected on the site of the old palace of Whitehall. The design of Inigo Jones has been frequently engraved ; and had the whole plan been executed in the spirit of that portion of it called the Banquetting House, it would have been perhaps the most magnificent palace in the world. As it is, we can only regret that the Banquetting House is but a small portion of the design which would have rivalled, in some respects, St. Paul's •, and we have thus been deprived, not only of a grand ornament of our metropolis, but of a memorial of the genius of Inigo Jones, as worthy of him as Saint Paul's is of Sir Christopher Wren. This splendid Hall has, since the reign of Queen Anne, been used as a Chapel Royal ; but not being attached to any residence of royalty, it was, some time ago, thrown open to the public, in the same way as a parish church, divine service being regularly performed in it. On week days, the visitor can obtain admission to see the interior, by a gratuity to the attendant. The architectural character of the interior of the " Chapel Royal" at White- hall, will be ascertained from an inspection of our Engraving. It is chiefly admirable as our earliest specimen of pure Italian. But of the ceiling, painted by Rubens, scarcely any thing is seen in our Engraving, except a fragment, which will enable the reader to have an indistinct idea of the design. Rubens — or, to give him his English title, with which, as well as three thousand poimds, he was rewarded for this ceiling — Sir Peter Paul Rubens— was largely patro- 46 LONDON INTERIORS. nized by Charles I., whose taste for the fine arts was great. He was therefore employed to ornament the ceiling of the Banquetting Room ; and, sketching the plan during his stay in England, he painted the work at Antwerp. Since the time of Rubens, the ceiling has been twice retouched, once by the skilful hand of Cipriani, and within these few years it has been cleaned and varnished. It is therefore at present in an excellent state of pre- servation, and the gorgeous framework of gilding which encloses the compartments of the painting, will please those who like to see " apples of gold in pictures of silver." This "gorgeous canopy" exhibits the great excellencies and striking defects of Rubens, His extraordinary colouring, and management of light and shade — the boisterous energy of his figures, and the singular combination of beauty with coarseness — may here be seen and studied. But to study the ceiling, the English visitor must forget his notions of English dignity, and lie down flat on liis back. Nor need he be afraid that the attendant will laugh at him. That respectable "cicerone" has himself an enthusiasm for his ceiling ; and is provided with a " fair" green cloth for all who choose to prostrate themselves. The ceiling is painted in nine compartments, the subjects being what are called allegorical, the centre one representing "The Apotheosis of King James," or his supposed translation to the celestial regions. The king, supported by an eagle, is borne upwards, attended by figures as the representatives of Religion, Justice, &c. On either side of this central compartment, are oblong ones, whose object is to exhibit the peace and plenty, the harmony and happiness, which the painter presumed to have signalized the reign of James I. In other compartments, Rubens's patron and employer, Charles, is introduced, in scenes intended to represent his birth, and as being crowed King of Scotland ; while the oval compartments, at the " corners," are intended, by allegorical figures, to shew the triumph of the Virtues, such as Temperance, &c., over the Vices. The ceremony exhibited as taking place in one Engraving of the interior of the Chapel, is the distribution of the " Maundy," on the Thursday preceding Easter. The etjrmology of the term has exercised a little ingenuity. " Maund" signified an open basket, having handles ; and hence, " to maund," to carry the basket (i.e. to hold out a basket for alms, or to put alms in a basket), and to " maunder," to use the whining speech or supplicatory tone of beggars. All great men, in former times, had, as an important ofiScer of their households, an " almoner," whose business it was to distribute alms to the poor. Before the Reforma- tion, every monastery in England had its almoner ; and the duties of the royal high almoner are judicially described, as having to collect the fragments of the royal table, and distribute them daily to the poor ; to visit the sick, pooi* widows, prisoners, and other persons in distress ; he had to remind the king about the bestowal of his alms, especially on saint days, and had to see that the cast-off" robes, which were often of higli BANQUETTING HALL, WHITEHALL. 47 price, should not be bestowed on players, flatterers, or minstrels, but that their value should be given to increase the royal charity. In modem times, the oflice of Lord High Almoner has long been held by the arch- bishops of York ; and though the duties are gradually becoming of a mere nominal character, the name of the archbishop is still retained in the list of the oflScers of the Royal Household ; with a clergyman as sub-almoner, and a secretary to the Lord High Almoner. The Marquis of Exeter is also set down as " Hereditary Grand Almoner." The custom of " Maundy," or of distributing alms, and performing acts of humilia- tion on a given day in Lent, is of considerable antiquity. It used to be performed by personages of illustrious rank, both as ecclesiastics and princes, from the Pope down to humble noblemen. A principal feature in the observances of the " Maundy," was the washing of poor people's feet, as performed by the heads both of the Eomish and the Greek church, and imitated by our own monarchs. Queen Elizabeth performed this ceremony at Greenwich ; and the last of our monarchs who is stated to have done so in person, was James II. The ceremony was afterwards performed by the royal almoner. "On the 5th of April, 1731, it being Maundy Thursday, the king being then in his forty-eighth year, there was distributed at the Banquetting House, Whitehall, to forty- eight poor men, and forty-eight poor women, boiled beef and shoulders of mutton, and small bowls of ale, which is called dinner ; after that, large wooden platters of fish and loaves: viz., undressed, one large ling, and one large dried cod; twelve red herrings, and twelve white herrings, and four half quarten loaves. Each person had one platter of this provision ; after which was distributed to them shoes, stockings, linen and woollen cloth, and leathern bags, with one-penny, two-penny, three-penny, and four-penny pieces of silver, and shillings, to each about four pounds in value. His grace the Lord Arch- bishop of York, lord high almoner, performed the annual ceremony of washing the feet of the poor in the Royal Chapel, Whitehall, as was formerly done by the kings them- selves." Gradual changes have taken place in this ceremony. The day, as the reader must remember, is the Thursday preceding Good Friday. In 1814, the following was the manner of the distribution of the " Maundy :" " According to annual custom, on Maundy Thursday, 1814, the royal donations were distributed at the Chapel Royal, Whitehaij in the morning, the sub-almoner, the secretary to the lord high almoner, and otiiers belonging to the lord chamberlain's oflSce, attended by a party of the yeomen of the guard, distributed to seventy-five poor women, and seventy-five poor men, being as many as the king was years old, a quantity of salt fish, consisting of salmon, cod, and herrings, pieces of very fine beef, five loaves of bread, and some ale to drink the king's health A procession entered, of those engaged in the ceremony, consisting of a party of the yeomen of the guard, one of them carrying 48 LONDON INTERIORS. a large gold dish on his head, containing one hundred and fifty bags, with seventy-five silver pennies in each, for the poor people, which was placed in the royal closet. They were followed by the sub-almoner in his robes, with a sash of fine Unen over his shoulder, and crossing his waist. He was followed by two boys, two girls, the secretary, and another gentleman, all carrying nosegays. The Church evening service was then per- formed, at the conclusion of which the silver pennies were distributed, and woollen cloth, linen, shoes, and stockings, to the men and women, with a cup of wine to drink the king's health." The changes which have gradually been introduced into the distribution of the "Maundy" lead to the conclusion that the ceremony will gradually sink into disuse. The royal arms are now distributed chiefly in money, with some clothing ; the distribution of the provisions being commuted for money. The yeomen of the guard, jocosely termed " Beef-eaters," attend the distribution of the " Maimdy." " Beef-eater " is probably a corruption of buffetiers, a name given to such of the yeomen of the guard who, on great solemnities, were ranged near the bufiets. The French in the same manner, called their valets who attended the side-board, buffets. Far be it from us to say aught against the exhibition of such acts of consideration on the part of the royal and noble of our land, towards their poorer fellow-creatures, — it is, indeed, a subject for deep regret that they are not more frequent and more extensive; and could the luxuries and splendours of St. James's be brought into contrast with the wretchedness and misery which stalk abroad in St. Giles's, — what a fearful weight of responsibility would be found to rest upon those who, possessing ample means for relieving the sorrows and distresses of the destitute and starving, are, nevertheless, strangers to the exercise of those benevolent emotions and finer sympathies of our nature, which are called fortix m the breasts of those who truly feel that there is a *' luxury in doing good." 49 HALL Of LINCOLN'S INN : WITH THE LORD CHANCELLOR PRESIDING IN THE COURT OF CHANCUPI The Engraving exhibits the interior of the fine Hall of Lincoln's Inn, which, during term-time, is used as the dining-hall for the benchers, barristers, and students; and during vacation, (when the Courts in Westminster Hall are closed,) as the Courts of Chancery. It is in this latter capacity that we represent it ; the Lord Chancellor presiding, in the same way as in his Court at Westminster, attended by the barristers who practise in Chancery, the Court being, of course, open to thie public. The reader will bear in mind, that the term Chancery includes several Courts : that in which the Lord Chancellor presides, who sits both in his Court at Westminster Hall and in Lin- coln's Inn Hall ; the Court of the Master of the Rolls ; the Courts of the three Vice- Chancellors ; while the Bankruptcy Court is a subordinate portion of Chancery. The Hall of Lincoln's Inn is the most ancient portion of the existing establishment, having been built in the reign of Henry the Seventh, while the gateway of the Inn was not finished till a later period, and the chapel was rebuilt, from a design by Inigo Jones. The Hall is spacious and finely proportioned, being seventy-one feet long by thirty-two ; the windows are in the pointed style ; and both on them and on panels are painted the arms of various dignitaries of the law who have been members of the Society of Lincoln's Inn. The screen marks the dais, or that portion of the Hall which was appropriated as the place of honour or distinction ; which, in former times, was known by wooden planks, , raising the honoured personages above the level of the bare earthen or stone floor. Thus Chaucer, *' "Wei semed eche of hem a fayre burgeis. To sitten in a gilde halle, on the dels." Above the screen is a picture, represented in our Engraving, the production of Hogarth, and which merits a few observations. Before that remarkable man had fairly walked into that field of art which he has made 80 peculiarly his own, ce fancied that he had power or capacity to succeed as an historical 50 LONDON INTERIORS painter. In this belief he tried his hand at a few productions, of which the present picture is one : — *' Paul before Felix." The reader, of course, knows the subject. Felix, the Roman governor of Judea, a man of bad character, avaricious, and profligate, had seduced from her husband, Drusilla the daughter of Herod Agrippa ; and he and Drusilla sent for Paul, then a prisoner, and heard him " concerning the faith in Christ." As Paul " reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Fehx trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time, when I have a convenient season I will call for thee." This picture remains as a monument of the failure of an ujirivalled artist in a depart- ment of art for which his very genius unfitted him. " He was not," says Sir Joshua Rey- nolds, " blessed with a knowledge of his own deficiency, or of the bounds which were set to the extent of his own powers. After he had invented a new species of dramatic painting, in which probably he will never be equalled, and had stored his mind with infinite materials to explain and illustrate the domestic and familiar scenes of comic life, which were generally, and ought always to have been the subjects of his pencil, he very imprudently, or rather presumptously, attempted the great historical style, for which his previous habits had by no means prepared him; he was indeed so entirely unac- quainted with the principles of this style, that he was not even aware that any artificial preparation was at all necessary." Notwithstanding, however, the acknowledged failure of Hogarth — a failure disco- vered by himself, since he abondoned the experiment — the picture of Paul before Felix, has been the subject of controversy, as to its merits and defects, and there have been some critics disposed to think that our great national artist has not so utterly failed in " the historical line," as others assert. The origin of our " Inns of Court," or nurseries of law, is of a doubtful nature : but the probability is, that when the Court of Common Pleas became stationary at West- minster, that the congregation of students desirous of studying the law, led to their establishment. Sir George Buck, " Master of His Majesty's Ofiice of the Revels," in a description of the Inns of Court, appended to Stowe, says, " Anciently here in England the houses of the greatest lords, both spiritual and temporal, of this kingdom (which they had here in London), were called Inns, as Oxford Inn, Warwick Inn, and Ely Inn, &c., which we now call Oxford House, Warwick House, and Ely House ; and yet until this daye, the houses of the French noblemen in Paris are called Hostels (hotels), which cometh from the Latin word Hospitium, and is the same which Inn is in English." "Of the Inns of Court," says Sir John Fortescue (who was Chief-Justice of the King's bench, and flourished during the reigns of Henry VI. and Edward IV.), " pro- perly so called, there are four in number." These Inns remain to this day in vigour and activity, and are still what they were in their origin — voluntary associations, each HALL OF LINCOLN S INX. 51 independent of the rest, and each having property, rights, and privileges, through long- continued use and custom, and — though not acknowledged as being legally " part and parcel" of our Courts of Law, yet practically having become so, through permission, as the only road into the legal profession. These Inns are the Middle and Inner Temple, Lincoln's Inn, and Gray's Inn : with eight smaller Inns, called Inns of Chancery, attached to the Inns of Court ; namely, Furnival's and Thavie's Inn, attached to Lin- coln's Inn ; Clement's, Clifford's and Lyon's, attached to the Inner Temple ; the New Inn to the Middle Temple ; and Barnard's and Staple's to Gray's Inn. Each Inn of Court is governed by its own benchers, or " ancients," as they were formerly called, who fill up the vacancies in their own body. Any barrister of seven years' standing may be a bencher ; but that honour is now usually conferred only on Queen's counsel. At Lin- coln's Inn the governing body is called the council ; at the Temple, the parliament. Their power is almost unlimited. In 1824, Mr. Wooller applied for admission into Lincoln's Inn, but received an official intimation from the Steward, informing him of his rejection, without any reasons assigned. Mr. Wooller then petitioned the benchers to state the reason for his rejection ; but having got no answer, he applied to the judges. The judges decided, in accordance with former judicial opinions, that they had no juris- diction, since the Inns of Court were not incorporations but voluntary societies, enjoying the privilege of calling persons to the bar by permission of the judges ; but that they could not interfere with the conduct of the benchers in rejecting particular individuals, unless the system of exclusion were carried to the length of injury to public interests. The mode of admission varies little in the Inns. In stating his wish to enter the Society, the applicant must describe his age and condition in life, and the abode and condition in life of his father — set forth the object he has in view in seeking admission — and bind himself to abstain from practice as a conveyancer, unless he obtains the per- mission of the benchers. Recommended as a gentleman of respectability by two barristers, with the surety of a householder or barrister for the payment of his dues, the applicant must give in a paper containing his application, recommendation, and surety, to the steward of the Society, for approval. When that takes place, he has to pay a sum, varying from thirty to forty pounds, for stamp, bond, admission money, &c. Before he can keep terms — that is, eat a certain niunber of dinners in each term — he must deposit one hundred pounds, which is returned without interest on his being called to the bar, or when he leaves the Society. On being called to the bar, certain forms have to be gone through. He has to address the benchers by petition, and after their sanction has been obtained, certain oaths are administered, new bonds entered into, and the new-made barrister can then look out for " briefs." Lincoln's Inn derives its name from Henry Lacey, Earl of Lincoln, who being favour- ably disposed towards an Association of Students of the Common Law, gave them his 52 LONDON INTERIORS. ** hostel." The Society gradually grew in numbers and possessions ; and the name of " Lincoln's" Inn became attached to the entire establishment. Various benefactions have been made to Lincoln's Inn, by different individuals ; and not a few of the ornaments of our judicial and legal records have been members of the Society. A studentship, worth about four hundred pounds ayear, to be held for eight years, was founded by Christopher Tancred, Esq., for four students, to be educated in the study of the law at Lincoln's Inn ; and a course of lectures was founded, in 1768, by Dr. Warburton, Bishop of Gloucester, which were delivered three times a year. Divine service is also performed every morning in the Chapel, the interior of which is very striking; the handsome carved oak, of which the screen and pews are formed, and the dark paintings on the windows, giving the whole a very chaste and solemn appearance. 5i< CATHOLIC CHAPEL ST. M.ART8, MOOEFIELDS: WITH THE CELBBBA.TTON OY HIGH MASS. The Catholics in London and its vicinity are estimated, in round numbers to amount to at least two hundred thousand ; and their Chapels are : — St. Mary's, Moorfields (the interior of which is the subject of our Engraving), which is connected with a district containing a Catholic population of thirty thousand souls. This district includes, with a trifling exception, all the City ; with Saffron-hili, Clerkenwell, Shoreditch, Bethnal-green, Mile-eiid, Whitechapel, Spitalfields, Hackney, and Homerton. Its pastors, four in number, have to attend Newgate, Giltspur-street, and New Clerkenwell prisons, for felons ; the Fleet and Whitecross-street prisons, for confined debtors ; St. Luke's Lying-in, and Great Bartholomew Hospitals ; and, besides numerous receptacles for the insane, no fewer than twenty-four workhouses. In addition to the German, the Sardinian, the Bavarian, the Spanish, the Belgian, and the French Catholic chapels, there are, the Virginia-street Chapel, RatclifF-highway, which is attached to the eastern district of London, including the population employed on the River and in the Docks; St. Patrick's Chapel, Soho, in which High Mass is solemnly celebrated on St. Patrick's day ; Westminster Chapel, the chaplain of which attends the Millbank Penitentiary, Tothill-fields Prison, &c. ; Kensington Chapel ; Our Lady's Chapel, St. John's Wood; the Chapels ofHampstead, and Somer's-town Chapels; a new and extensive chapel in Islington ; the Poplar, Chelsea, and Bermondsey Chapels ; and the magnificent new church of St. George, in Lambeth. In addition to these, there are chapels at Greenwich and Woolwich, and at the latter place a new chapel is propssed to be erected, on ground given by the Board of Ordnance. What is called the " London district" not only includes London and its vicinity, but all Middlesex, Berkshire, Hampshire, Hertfordshii'e, Essex, Surrey, Sussex, Kent, and the Isles of Wight, Guernsey, and Jersey. In this extensive district there are reckoned Churches and Chapels .... 78 Colleges . . . . . . 1 Convents ...... 4 64 LONDON INTER] ORS. Charity Schools . . . . , 38 Charitable Institutions .... 8 Missionary Priests . . , . .112 Of the Catholic charitable Institutions in London and its environs, there are the Associated Cathoiic Charities, for educating, clothing, and apprenticing the children of poor Catholic orphans, and providing an asylum for destitute orphans ; St. Patrick's Charity Schools and Asylum for female orphans ; Spitalfields Free Schools ; Southwark Charity Schools ; East London Catholic School ; St. Francis Catholic Schools, St. Giles's ; with a number of others, in diflferent districts of the Metropolis ; and various institu- tions, the Aged Poor Society ; the Alms-house Fund ; the Benevolent Society ; the Society of Charitable Sisters ; the .Society of Catholic Ladies ; the Asylum of the Good Shepherd ; and others : all of which are actively employed in doing good. The Marchioness of Wellesley is president of the Society of Catholics Ladies, and its vice- presidents are the Duchess of Leeds, Countess C. Clifford, Countess Stafford, Countess Montalembert, Hon. Mrs. Petre, Hon. Mrs. Digby, &c. &c. As our Engraving represents the celebration of a grand devotional ceremony of the Catholic church, we give some explanation of it, before describing the interior oF Moorfields Chapel. The derivation of the word " Mass" is uncertain : but the Mass is a church service which forms an essential part of the ritual of both the Roman Catholic and Greek or Eastern Churches, and in which the consecration of the sacramental bread and wine takes place. It is performed by the officiating priest standing before the altar, attended by a clerk who says the responses. The congregation take no ostensible part in the service, but they follow it mentally, or in their prayer-books, in which the text of the prayers is occasionally accompanied by a translation in the vulgar tongue. The priest does not address the congregation, but has his back turned to them, except at the end of certain prayers. The low or ordinary Mass lasts, in general, about half an hour : but High Mass is a long and solemn service, which is accompanied by the organ and choir. Both for the low and high Masses the officiating priest is dressed in peculiar various-coloured garments, appropriated to the occasion. But as it will be more satisfactory, in explanation of our Engraving, to give the Catholic account of the ceremonies used in the holy sacrifice of the Mass, we here annex it as officially published for the guidance of the Catholic community. " All the external rites used in the celebration of the Holy Mysteries are intended for the instruction of the faithful. Thus, " The Altar represents Mount Calvary, where the Redeemer of the world expired upon an ignominious Cross. This very word Altar has relation to sacrifice, which muat CATHOLIC CHAPEL, ST. MARY's, MOORFIELDS. 55 necessarily be offered to God in that Church in which his true faith is professed : and hence this name of Altar is mentioned by St. Paul. * We have an Altar,* says he, 'whereof they have no right to eat who serve the tabernacle.' (Heb. xiii. 10.) The Altar also represents the table on which our Blessed Saviour, the night before He suffered, celebrated His last supper with his Disciples. '* The Candles are lighted, during the Holy Mysteries, through a motive of honour and respect. They represent the light of faith, and the fervour of charity, which the Gospel inculcates. They are also expressive of spiritual life and joy. * Throughout all the Churches of the East,' says St. Jerome, * when the Gospel is to be read, though the sun shines, torches are used, not to chase away darkness, but for a sign of joy.' '* The Crucifix is placed in the middle of the Altar, to represent to our minds the passion and death of Jesus Christ, which is to be chiefly considered and piously meditated upon in this Holy Sacrifice. " The Amice, a linen cloth which the Priest pulls over his head, and fastens round nis neck, signifies the rag of linen with which the Jews blindfolded our Saviour in mockery, when they smote him and buffeted him, saying, 'Prophecy unto us, oh Christ ! who is he that struck thee.' (Matt. xxvi. 68.) ** The Alb represents the white garment which Herod put upon Christ after he had ' despised and mocked him.' (Luke xxiii, 11.) " The Maniple that the Priest wears on his left arm, the Stole that hangs down from his neck, and the Girdle, figure the cords and fetters with which the officers of the Jews bound Christ, and ' led him from one place to another.' (John xviii. 12, 24.) " The Chasuble, or upper garment, represents the purple garment which the soldiers put upon Jesus Christ, and the heavy Cross that He carried on His blessed shoulders to Mount Calvary. " As to the colours of the ornaments with which the Priest celebrates the Holy Mysteries, the White is used on the Festivals of our Lord, of the B. Virgin Mary, and of all the Saints who are not martyrs. " The Red is used on Pentecost, on the Invention and Exaltation of the Cross, and on the Feasts of the Apostles and Martyrs. " The Purple or F'iolet, which is the penitential colour, is used on all the Sundays and Ferias of Advent, and during the whole of the penitential time from Septuagesima Sunday till Easter ; as also on all Vigils, Ember-days, and Rogation-days, when the orfice is of them. " The Green is used on all Sundays and Ferias from Trinity Sunday to Advent exclusively, and from the Octave of the Epiphany to Septuagesima Sunday exclusively, when the office is of the Sunday ; but in Paschal time, the White is used. " The Black is used on Good Friday, and in Masses of Requiem for the dead ; 56 LONDON INTERIORS. which may be said on any day that is not a Sunday or a Double, except from Palm Sunday to Low Sunday, and during the Octaves of Christmas, of the Epiphany, of Pen- tecost, and of Corpus Christi." After reading this official description of the solemn ceremony which forms the chief subject of our Engraving, we may now inform our readers, that the Chapel of St. Mary's, Moorfields (which is licensed under the Marriage Act, and has a branch of the Catholic Institute attached to it), is conventionally regarded as a kind of Cathedral church by the Catholics of London. The choir is a fine one — and by the simplicity of its decorations, adds greatly to the effect of the grand altar picture of the Crucifixion which fills the western end of the building. This great scenic production, the work of Agustine Aglio, is painted in fresco on a circular wall, and illuminated by a subdued light concealed in the roof. It is seen from the body of the Chapel, between the openings of the altar pillars, and conveys an air of life and reality which greatly afiects the spectator. " Fresco," our readers may perhaps know, signifies, literally, " fresh ;" and denotes a particular manner of painting upon a ground of plaster, or the like compound, because it is usual to lay on the colours while the ground is still wet and fresh. The altar-piece of St. Mary's, Moorfields, is considered to have engendered the taste for painting in fresco, which is rapidly rising into repute in this country. i 87 MIDDLE TEMPLE HALL. BENCHERS ANT) STUDENTS "TAKING COMMONS." The site now occupied by the extensive buildings of the two Societies of the Temple, was once the property of the ecclesiastical-military order, the Knights Templars. These gallant Crusaders, combining in one the characters of the monk and the warrior, obtained great reputation throughout Europe for austere sanctity' and devoted bravery, their occupation being "manfully and with armed hand to extirpate the enemies of Christ out of the land," — especially, also, to combat the infidels in the Holy Land, and pre- serve Jerusalem to the Christian Church. As their order increased in reputation and in wealth, the Knights Templars " waxed fat and kicked ;" throughout Europe, the uame of a Knight Templar, which, at first, had been synonymous with purity of life, and personal courage, became the emblem of haughty pride, licentious conduct and pro- digious wealth ; and therefore when Philip, King of France, started accusations against Aem of the most outrageous kind, with the ultimate view of seizing the extensive possessions which their order held in his dominions, scarcely any public sympathy was manifested in their behalf, and they fell, at once the victims of their own corruption, and the cupidity of others. • That portion of the order which resided in England, had their chief house at the Temple, in London, where they lived in great state, and frequently gave splendia entertainments to the monarch, the foreign ambassadors, and the nobility. So high was their reputation and power, that wealthy individuals, who deemed their treasures insecure in other places, used to deposit them in the Temple. When the order was finally condemned, and their wealth confiscated throughout Europe, their possessions in England reverted to the Crown. Edward II. gave the Temple to Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, who forfeited it by rebellion ; and after it had passed into one or two other hands, it came into the possession of the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, an order similar in character to that of the Templars, who were then highly celebrated for their warlike achievements, better known in modern times as the " Knights of Mal- ta," existhig as a sovereign body, till the surrender of Malta to the French in 1798, and still continuing as an " order," a phantom of its former greatness. The Knights of St. John, who became possessed of the Temple in London, are supposed to have demised the premises, for a rent of £10 per annum, to "a Society of 58 LONDON INTERIORS. Students in the Common law," who had been located at Thavie's Inn, and who, increasing in numbers, desired a more convenient abode. From that hour to this, the Temple has been in possession of the lawyers — an order very different indeed from the Knights Templars, though they retain the name and the coat of arms. The Temple was plundered in the insurrection of Wat Tyler, when the books and early records of the Society were burnt, by which a portion of the history of the Temple, as belonging to the lawyers rests on traditionary evidence. It is not known with accuracy when the students divided into the two societies of the Inner and Middle Temple, but it is supposed to have occurred in the Reign of Richard II., shortly after the insurrection of Wat Tyler, and to have been caused by the great increase of students, which rendered a division necessary and convenient. A memorial of the union of the two societies is preserved in the fact of the Temple. Church (built by the Knights Templars^ being common to both ; and in the title of the chief clergyman of the church, who is called " The Master of the Temple," is presented a memorial of the time when the occupants were military monks. The buildings of the Temple reach from Fleet Street to the Thames, and from Lom- bard Street, Whitefriars, to Essex Street in the Strand., east and west. The access to these " inns of court," with their squares, courts, and gardens, is by means of gateways and lanes, branching off from she main streets, whi ?.h a stranger might pass and repass without remarking that they led to such celebrated establishments. The civic boundary, Tample Bar, has given rise to the appellation of Inner and Middle Temple. The Inner Temple was so named, as lying entirely within the city, while the " Outer Temple," a name now lost, was applied to certain buildings outside the city. The Middle Temple derived its name from being between both. Shakspeare, in the first part of Henry VI. (act ii. scene 4.) alludes to the gardens of the Temple, as the place where the badges of the houses of York and Lancaster, in their deadly feud — the red and white roses — were first selected by the leaders of each party. It is uncertain whether he had anything more than mere tradition for assigning such a locality. Although no regular system of study is authoratively prescribed to the students admitted into the different inns of the court, and scarcely any other evidence of their fitness is required, in order to be called to the bar, than the fact of their having complied with the required rules to the satisfaction of the benchers, the case was somewhat different in ancient times. The inns of the court were then the legal universities ; or rather the different inns were the colleges of one university where legal lore was taught. The exact course of legal education pursued at the Inns of Court, before the Common- wealth, is extremely uncertain, but it appears to have consisted almost entirely of the exercises called readings and mootings, which have been described by several ancient writers. In the larger inns, the benchers annually chose from their own body, two readers, whose duty it was to read openly to the society in their public hall, at least 1 MIDDLE TEMPLE HALL. 59 twice in the year. On these occasions, which were observed with great solemnity, the reader selected some statute, which he made the subject of formal examination and discussion. He first recited the doubts and questions which had arisen, or might by possibility arise, upon the several clauses of the statute, and then briefly declared his own judgment on them. The questions were afterwards debated, the judges, Serjeants, and barristers, delivering their opinions. " Readings of this kind were often published, and it is to this practice of the Inns of Court that we are indebted for some of the most profound judicial arguments in our language. Previous to an arrangement made by all the Inns of Court in 1762, the qualifications required for being called to the bar varied extremely, and no uniform rule was observed at the diSerent houses. In that year, it was determined, by the concurrence of all the Inns of Court, to adopt a common set of rules for their guidance ; and at the present day, the general rule as to qualification in all the Inns of Court, is, that a person, in order to entitle himself to be called to the bar, must be 21 years of age ; have kept twelve terms, and have been for five years at least a member of the society. If he be a Master of Arts of either of the English universities, or of Trinity College, Dublin, it is sufficient if he have kept twelve terms, and has been three ye^s a member of the Inn by which he desires to be called to the bar. By an order of the benchers of the Inner Temple, made in 1829, every person proposed for admission must previously undergo an exa» mination as to his proficiency in classical attainments and the general subjects of a liberal education. But this regulation has not been adopted by any of the other three Inns of Court. The subject of our engraving is the interior of the Middle Temple Hall, and the scehe is the members of the society " Taking Commons." The Middle Temple HaU, in size and splendour exceeds the halls of the other inns of court ; it was begim in 1562, and finished about ten years afterwards. In 1830 — 1832 it underwent a total renovation, so as to appear much more modern than its real age might lead us to expect. It is 100 feet long, 40 wide, and upwards of 60 feet in height. The roof combines solidity and elegance in no ordinary degree, the arches and pendants being chastely and boldly carved, but not at the sacrifice of a majestic simplicity which is its prevailing charac- teristic. The screen at the east end of the hall is a most exquisite and elaborate specimen of Elizabethan wood-carving, than which London possesses no finer example. It is profusely laboured into columns, foliage, fruit, niches, and emblematic figures,, with the utmost boldness and effect, the delicacy of the ornaments, and the spirit of the figures being equally worthy of praise. The windows are filled with stained glass exhibiting the armorial bearings of different members of the inn ; and the oak pannels beneath them, that run round three sides of the hall, are also devoted to a similar Heraldic display. There are some hundreds of these shields, each carved in relief, upon CO LONDON INTERIORS. W'h^ja the coat is emblazoned in its proper colours, beneath which, upon ornamental scrolls richly painted and gilt, are the names of the parties to whom they belong. The variety of form and colour produced by so large an assemblage of armourial devices, adds not a little to the gaiety and splendour of the interior of this fine hall. Immediately above these pannels are placed busts of the twelve Caesars ; six on each side down the entire length of the building. At the west end, opposite the entrance doors, is the raised Dais, and here are arranged some valuable pictures. In the centre is the celebrated equestrian portrait of Charles I., passing through a triumphal arch and attended by his armour bearer, who carries his helmet. It is painted by Vandyke, and is one of *.he three that were executed by that master's own hand ; another is in the royal collection at Windsor, and the third at Warwick Castle. Two full length portraits are placed on each side of this painting. Those on the left are Queen Anne, and King Charles II,. those on the right are King WiUiam III., and King James II. Within the recess to the right is placed a full length portrait of George I., the one to the left exhibits a curioua ancient picture " the Judgment" of Solomon, in which the mothers of the children are dressed in the long waisted boddice and furbelow farthingale of the time of Elizabeth, while the soldiers are habited as ancient Romans, and many attendant figures in the costume of Flemings ; putting aside, however, the absurdity of its costume, it is a curious and valuable specimen of the arts at this period. Upon pedestals immediately in front of the Dais are busts of Lords Eldon and Stowel, beautifully executed by Behnes. There is one association connected with this hall that we think should not be overlooked. It is the fact of its being the only locality remaining, where a play of Shakspeare was Kstened to by his contemporaries. The diary of John Manningham, a Student in the Middle Temple, and which is now in the British Museimi, has an entry ' imder " Feb. 2, 1601. At our feast we had a play called Twelve Night, or what you will." It was customary at that period to carry the Christmas tisstivities of our Inns of Courts through many weeks of hospitality and splendour. A Prince of Misrule was elected, with regal privileges, who held solemn courts, received mock ambassadors, made royal progresses, and occasionally was honoured by a visit from legitimate royalty itself, during his brief reign. Masques and Plays, as at Court, formed a regular source of nightly amusement, being produced with much splendour and expense. On one such occasion, these walls echoed the laughter and applause of an audience long since gone to their resting place, ehcited by the power of England's Master Poet, whose immortal , t»roductions, unharmed by time, will delight our posterity at a far greater distance of j uimo than has passed between ourselves and the Benchers of 1601. ] GUILDHALL. ON THE NINTH OF NOVEMBER THE LORD MAYOK'S TABLE AT THE BANQUET. We have already exhibited the Interior of Guildhall, as it appears on the 8th of November, on the annual installation of the Lord Mayor. In the letter-press accompanying that' engraving, and also accompanying the two other engravings of the Egyptian Hall in the Mansion House, and the Court of Common Council, descrip- tive particulars were given respecting the origin, history, and actual constitution of the Corporation of the City of London, and of the office and functions of the Lord Mayor. We shall, therefore, treat the engraving which we now give as a supplementary one, and our description as completing a subject already brought before our readers. By comparing the present engraving with the view of the interior of Guildhall, given in the first number of these " Interiors," the reader will perceive that we are now exhibiting, in detail, the lower portion of the eastern end of the Hall, with its screens, statues, and trophy, imder the great window. The scene in the engraving of Guildhall, to which we refer, is the installation of the Lord Mayor on the 8th of Novem- ber ; the scene, of which we have selected a '* leading feature," in the present engraving, is the Banquet on the succeeding evening, the 9th of November, which follows the usual procession by land and water on that day. The fame of " Lord Mayor's Day" is not confined to London. All the world, we may literally say, has heard of the time-honoured ceremony, and the now almost time- worn pageants of the annual civic show. Indeed, in these latter and more refined days, we have come to look on ordinary "Lord Mayor's Shows" with a kind of contemptuous toleration, as if they existed merely on the score of ancient usage, and for the amusement of children. Still the old spirit is in the multitude, if any procession or show is about to take place in which the actors are of the highest order. Yet we can but little appreciate the zest with which our ancestors enjoyed these affairs. Knowing uothing of newspapers, and hardly anything of books ; most of them living in wooden houses, and all walking over rough unpaved streets ; with but few sources of amusement, and their attention undistracted by the thousand conveniences and cheap luxuries which civiHzation has spread over the surface of society, our London forefathers rushed to the " Chepe," (Cheapside,) as if with one heart, to see the numerous civic or royal '' Ridings," as the processions were fitly enough called, when not even a state coach I 62 LONDON INTERIORS. existed. But the taste for the pageants, the preparation of which used to be such a source of entertainment to the less sophisticated '* public" of a former time, has very visibly decayed ; Gog and Magog can hardly be brought out on an ordinary Lord Mayor's Day without a burst of universal laughter being excited by a sight of the tottering giants — they are now usually left " laid up in ordinary." But there is one portion of the doings .of the 9th of November which can hardly ever fail to attract. The magnificent Banquet in Guildhall, which finishes the proceedings of the day, is honoured by the presence of the chief personages of the country. The members of the existing government, from the Lord Chancellor, and the First Lord of the Treasury, down to the subordinate officials, are all expected, and are all usually present, along, with the judges of the land and other people of rank and consideration. The cards of invitation to this Banquet are issued by the Lord Mayor and Sheriifs ; and the scene and the feast are, of course, alike magnificent. On these occasions, the Court of Common Council is fitted up in a tasty and appropriate manner as a drawing room, where the Lady Mayoress receives company; and the presentations vie in splendour with those of royalty. The scene in the drawing room is also similar to what may be seen at court, elegant costumes, refined manners, friendly intercourse ; the whole terminated, for a brief period, by the procession from the drawing-room to the hall, the ladies being conducted round the hall to their seats at the upper table, the band playing, and trumpets sounding. Then proclamation is made, " Silence for grace," which is said by the Lord Mayor's chaplain ; and that over, there succeeds a crash, which rings through the hall, of plates, knives and forks, the band striking up the *' Roast Beef of Old England." The sensation, on entering the hall, at first, is that of an overpowering flood of light ; next, that a tumult of sounds, the hum of conversation, and the occasional din of loud toned voices, interrupted by the agreeable process of dining. We need not here further detail the usual proceedings of the Guildhall Banquet, on • the 9th of November. Healths are proposed, speeches are made, the personages called up being, of course, the leading personages invited, say the Lord Chancellor and other members of the existing administration ; the Lord Chief Justice, or one or more of the judges ; some distinguished officers on behalf of the military and naval services, &c. &c., not forgetting the Lord Mayor and his lady, with the Sheriffs, &c. After the usual complimentary healths are proposed and drank, the ladies retire, but the gentlemen exercise their privilege of tarrying a little longer. The time chosen for the accompanying engraving is the few minutes which elapse between the dinner and the dessert ; and as the architectural characteristics of this portion of the Guildhall are prominently brought under notice, we shall here introduce a detailed description, which will serve to complete our previous notice of the interior. i GUILDHALL, ON THE NINTH OF NOVEMBER. 63 Many minute alterations, the result of necessity and inconvenience, were pretty ti-equently made in the interior of Guildhall, and the gradual introduction of Alderman Beckford's monument in 1775 (originally placed in front of the west window), and those of Earl of Chatham 1782, of his son the Right Honourable William Pitt, in 1812, and of the immortal Nelson, aided in changing its aspect materially. But the principal alteration occurred during the year 1815, when the hall was thoroughly repaired. The entrance to the interior courts at that period was by a door where Alder- man Beckford's monument is now placed, and on each side of the flight of steps before it, was an octangular turretted gallery with balustrades, which assumed the appearance of arbours, from each being surrounded by six palm trees, in ironwork, the foliage of which gave support to a large balcony, having in front a clock with three dials, elaborately ornamented, and beneath it a gilded representation of the sun. The clock frame was of oak, at the angles were figures of the Cardinal Virtues, and on the top a figure of Time ; while placed on brackets, to the right and left of the balcony, were the figures of Gog and Magog, the far-famed giants of Guildhall, the last remaining vestiges of the old city pageantry, and which now keep watch and ward at the great west window. At their feet, beneath the hall keeper's offices, were two dark" cells or cages, in which unruly apprentices were occasionally confined, and which went by the name of " Little Ease," from not being of sufficient height for a person to stand upright in them. At this period, and until within the last few years, the east end of the hall was appropriated to the extent of 20 feet in advance of the walls, to the holding of Courts of Hustings, taking the poll at elections, and other purposes, for which it was fitted up by an inclosed platform, rising several feet above the pavement, and a pannelled wainscotting separated into compartments by fluted Corinthian pillars, thus covering the whole snrface of the walls nearly up to the great window, and leaving but the upper range of small niches and their canopies in view. From this partial glimpse, a similar range was designed and placed beneath the western window, where some corresponding remains had been found, and upon comparing the two the spectator will be struck by the inferiority of the latter. Some few years ago, it being considered advisable to remove these courts from Guildhall, and add this space to the area, upon pulling down the wood work, the screen was thrown open and found to be in a very ruinous condition. It thus remained until the discovery of the three statues, represented in our plate, decided the city authorities in their restoration of this fine werk of art, and incorporating these statues in the general design. The figures represent Edward VI., Queen Elizabeth, and King Charles I., and ar«-. of the full size of life. That of Edward VI. may be considered of the best and most graceful )f the three t he holds a sceptre (now broken) in his right hand, while his left hand rests upon his breasts. That of Queen Elizabeth possesses no distinguishing 64 LONDON INTEUTOBS. character either of feature or costume. She is habited in loose drapery, a long veil depending from her crown, and she holds in her right hand a sceptre (now broken), and in her left the orb. Charles I. is represented in armour, over which is thrown a royal mantle, which is held back by his left hand, while his right hand is uplifted, but it is uncertain whether the hand has held a sword or sceptre, as scarcely a remnant of it remains. These statues were found about three years ago in the crypt beneath Guildhall, a fine substructure in excellent preservation, extending the whole length of the hall, having a groined roof of great solidity and strength, springing from equally massive piers, whici divide the interior into three aisles of about 13 feet in height. It is used as a lum- ber room for planks, benches, &c., used in the civic festivities of the hall above, and amid this mass of lumber these figures have lain till quite forgotten, since the demolition of Guildhall Chapelin 1822, which stood upon the site of the New Court of Queen's Bench and Common Pleas, adjoining the Great Hall on the east side. They stood in niches of a clumsy construction, immediately over the entrance to the chapel, and may be seen occupy- ing this station in a view of the exterior of this chapel, engraved in Wilkinson's " Londina lUustrata." From the appearance of the figures and the style of their workmanship, a tolerably certain guess may be made of the period when they were executed. It must have been in the latter part of the reign of Charles II., or during the brief career of his brother. This opinion receives strong confirmation from the great resemblance that the figure of Edward VI. bears to the statue of the same monarch over the entrance to Christ Church School Cloisters, in Newgate Street, and which would induce a belief that the same sculptor executed both figures. The inscription beneath the Christ Church figure informs us that "Sir Robert Clayton, Knight, and Alderman of Loudon, erected this statue, A. D. 1682." A glance at the statuary in Westminster Abbey, executed at this period, will strengthen the view here taken, as they present many peculiarities of feeling and workman- ship visible in those of which we are speaking. The Screen, as completed, is an addition of an important and strikingly ornamental character, and is much superior in style of workmanship to any other portion of the hall. An embattled canopy runs along the upper part, rich in sculptured flowers, grotesque animals, and fanciful heads, the line being elegantly broken, and the general design relieved by the bold projection of the niches containing the three Royal Statues, the surface of the screen between each being occupied by compartments* of the richest perpendicular tracery ; and no finer composition, artistically speaking, can be witnessed, than on an occasion like the one we have made the subject of our engraving, when this beautiful screen is elegantly surmounted by a military trophy with its manv coloured memorials of victory, appropriately encircling a loyal motto. /"'^/ 65 EOYAL NAVAL MUSEUM, SOMERSET HOUSE. EXHIBITION OF MODELS. Somerset House, "as all the world doth know," stands between two great thoroughfares, the Strand and the Thames. Its site was formerly occupied by a palace built by the proud and lawless Protector Somerset, who ruled England in the minority of Edward VI. The old Somerset House was occasionally the habitation of royalty ; but in the reign of George III., the great increase of public business required a bviilding of suiBcient magnitude ; and it was determined to puU down the old palace, and erect the present Somerset House. The erection was entrusted to Sir William Chambers, who has here produced the finest of his architectural works ; it was commenced in 1774, and is a fine example of the Italian style, though its details have been much criticised, and are not free from censure. The river front of the edifice, which extends 590 feet, is greatly admired. On entering Somerset House by the Strand gateway, we arrive in a spacious quad- rangle, and over the doors on each side may be remarked brief but significant words, intimating to what department of the government each suite of offices belongs. Thus, " Stamps and Taxes" intimate that here is one important working department connected with the collection of the revenue of the country, and so of others. Our business is, at present, with that subordinate department of the Admiralty, whose offices are at Somerset House, and more especially with the " Model Room." The present surveyor-general of the navy is a man of high nautical talent, whose courtesy in private life and in the discharge of his official functions, is an adjimct to his public reputation. The stranger, therefore, desirous of visiting the " Model Room", can easily obtain the desired permission ; and as the common phrase is, ** like master like man,' the Surveyor-General's modeller, (who is entrusted with the custody and exhibition of the Model Room) is a very afiable and intelligent cicerone. The object of the collection is expressed by its title. Here we have models of everything connected with what has now become the most scientific and important trade of this country, or even of the world, — the science and the trade of ship building. Thus, we have a model of the '* Great Harry," that renowned vessel, the first ship which, properly speaking, could be called a ship of the English royal navy. It was built by Henry VII., who may be said to have founded our royal navy ; and, as might be expected in that period of infancy in the art, it was a clumsy 66 LONDON INTERIOBS. structure, which cost much money, (£15,000,) was of little use, and was incidentallv burned. The ships of that period were high, unwieldy, and narrow : their guns were close to the water, and they had lofty poops and prows, like Chinese junks, insomuch, that Sir Walter Raleigh informs us, that " the Mary Rose, a goodly ship of the largest size, by a little sway of the ship in casting about, her ports being within 16 inches of the water, was overset and sunk." This took place at Spithead in the presence of the king, and most of her officers and crew were drowned. Henry VIII. carried out some of the designs of his father, and in imitation of the *' Great Harry," he caused to be built the " Henry Grace de Dieu," which is said to have measured about a thousand tons, and carried 122 -gims. It was, however, more showy than useful ; not more than thirteen of the guns were nine-pounders or upwards, and its construction must have been very defective, for it is said to have steered badly, and to have rolled incessantly. After having made one voyage, it was disarmed at Bristol, and suffered to decay. During the reigns of Edward VI. and Elizabeth, the royal navy became very power- ful, and at the death of that " bright occidental star," the navy consisted of forty-two ships of war. In the time of James I. a ship, called the "Prince," was built, which carried 64 guns, and was of 1400 tons burthen, being the largest which had been till then con- structed. And before the civil war broke out, Charles I. ordered the " Sovereign of the Seas" to be built, which carried above 106 guns, small and great ; her length was 128 feet, and her breadth 48 feet. By comparing the models of the " Great Harry" and the " Sovereign," the visitor of the " Model Room" can easily see that some progress had been made in ship-building. Still, the art was but in its infancy. The ships of that age (the " Sovereign of the Seas" was built in 1637,) were constructed with hulls extravagantly high, while the lower guns were frequently not more than three feet above the water ; they were consequently very liable to ship seas at the lower ports during an action, when the waves ran high, or the ship heeled considerably. But the rivalry between England and the United Provinces in the seventeenth century, and the desire which Louis XIV. entertained to raise the navy of France to an equality with those of his neighbours, led to the construction of ships carrying artillery of much greater calibre than had hitherto been used at sea. The French king actually caused to be built at Toulon, a ship called the " Royal Louis," which carried 12, 24, and 48 pounders, on its upper, middle, and lower decks respectively. In the same age, and also during the succeeding century, naval architecture was zealously studied in France ; and the English constructors were st sensible of their inferiority, that in most of the ships built in England at that time, the proportions were copied from those of ships which had been taken in action from the ROYAL NAVAL MUSEUM, SOMERSET HOUSE — EXHIBITION OF MODELS. 67 i-ival nation. Thus, the *' Leviathan" was built at Chatham nearly in conformity with the " Courageux," a French 74-gun ship ; and several others according to the construction of the " Invincible," which had been taken by Lord Anson during the Seven Years' War. But even till within the last thirty years, the construction of our ships of war was comparatively clumsy. Of this, the visitor of the " Model Room" may soon satisfy himself, by comparing the models of the earlier and more recent ships, and contrasting the "square sterns" with the "curvilinear" ones. The sterns of ships of war were, till about twenty-five years since, made at their junctions with the sides of an angular form, or, as they were called, "square;" and before 1729 they had projecting balconies or galleries extending towards them, and to some distance along each after-quarter of the ship. The galleries were afterwards much diminished in breadth, but it was not till the year 1796, that, by the influence of Lord Spencer, who was then the first Lord of the Ad- miralty, these, as well as the projecting heads, were entirely omitted in the constniction of ships. In 1816, the late surveyor of the navy. Sir Robert Seppings, proposed to make the sterns curvilinear, (rounded off,) like the bows, but more flat, and by the adoption of this plan there was gained considerable strength, such a form enabling the ship to resist with great effect the force of a sea in striking the stern, and that of shot when fired against it. Besides, in a ship wilh a curvihnear stern, the port-holes may be so disposed as to allow guns to fire in any direction diverging from a centre vdthin the ship ; and at the same time the after broadside guns may be trained so as to fire obliquely towards the fore or after-part of the ship. As powerful a defence may there- fore be made at the stem as at any other part of the vessel ; an advantage which is quite lost in a square stem ship. In consequence, the curvilinear form is now, with slight modifications, generally adopted for ships of war ; and the only objection hitherto made is, that the interior accommodations are somewhat diminished by it. Great improvements have taken place in the size and form of the British ships, as well as in the arrangement of the materials composing them during the present century. As France and Spain enlarged their ships, the Enghsh were obliged to do the same ; while from many of their ships, added to the English navy, we greatly improved our models. The rapid increase in the size of our ships is evident, not so much from the inspection of the models, as from the tables of the tonnage. Thus, in the latter part of the 17th century, the tonnage of our first rates was from 1500 to 1600; about the middle of the 18th century it was about 2000 ; in 1795, the " Ville de Paris" was built at Chatham, it carried 110 guns, was 190 feet long, and its tonnage was 2350 ; in 1808 the " Caledonia" was built, of 120 guns, 205 feet in length, and 2616 tonnage; while the tonnage of the "Victoria," built at Chatham, of 110 guns, is 3100. We have now a frigate of greater tonnage than the first rates of 1745 — namely, the " Vernon," of 50 guns, and 2080 tonnage, which was built according to the designs of the Surveyor- General, Sir William Symonds. 68 LONDON INTERIOilS. The landsman visiting the "Model Room" cannot, of course, receive so much gratification as the seaman, because the latter understands what he is examining, and can derive not merely pleasure from the sight of such a model, as that, for instance, of the " Victoria," but also much instruction from comparison of details. Still, even to the lands-tan, the " Model Room" is an object of great interest ; here he has before him a kind of synoptical or bird's-eye view of the gradual progress of England's "Wooden Walls;" he sees what kind of ships they were which carried the flag of Howard, the conqueror of the Armada; of Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Francis Drake; of Blake, who, in disastrous times, was true to his country's honour, and taught the English sailor to be invincible ; of all. who have contributed to render this country the Queen of the Ocean, "Howe, Jervis, Nelson, and CoUingwood;" and he' sees also the progress of an art which has called forth the powers of minds of the highest scientific character, and tasked all their energies. No Englishman can be indifferent to such a sight. The " Model Room" is divided into several apartments, containing not merely modles of ships, with sections exhibiting their interior and exterior construction, but also various objects of interest connected with the navy. Particularly what may be termed the central apartment of the " Model Room," which has a gallery round it ; and the large model which occupies the centre of the apartment is the model of the " Victoria," of 110 guns, built at Chatham, of which we have already spoken. This fine ship exhibits in its construction the latest improvements in the art of ship-building ; it was laid down in 1839, along with three others, of the same tonnage, which is 3100. Suspended above the " Victoria," is a model of the " Victory," a ship of war which was built in 1735, and was lost in the channel in 1744, with an Admiral and its entire crew. The reader will, of course, bear in mind that this is not a model of Nelson's " Victory," seeing that our prince and pattern of British seamen was not born till 1758. A model of the anchor of the " Victoria" is placed on the round table. This is called " Pering's Anchor," from the name of a gentleman who has devoted much ingenuity and time to the improvement of this mainstay of a ship. The table on which the model of the anchor is placed is worthy of notice. New Zealand abounds with timber adapted for ship-building ; a particular tree, a species of pine, and locally known as the Cowdie tree, is excellently fitted for masts and spars for large ships. The Board of Admiralty has been recently in the habit of procuring supplies of it by contract for the use of the navy. From a tree of this kind was produced a mast of 75 feet in length, besides furnishing the table on which the model stands. ' >^",^^^, ^^^;^- ,fS^yAi^./i^. u//^m^^/: r/^ '^Iv. ].unnai..ruhu.LaJ lur Oio IJitrjr^ator, tw J.ifcaiLJD.er cent- 101 HOUSE OF COMMONS. THE SPEAKER REPRIMANDING A PERSON AT THE BAR. The building in which the Lords and Commons of this empire '* were wont to assem- ble" during the erection of the new Palace of Westminster, will be looked upon long after answering their temporary purposes, as connecting links in the history of our Houses of Parliament. They fill up the gap which will exist between the destruction of the old structures by fire and the opening of the new ones reared from the magnificient designs of Barry. Thus, though merely run up with the certain prospect of being pulled down when the legislative wisdom of the country became better lodged, it is desirable that some trace of them should be left. This desideratum is supplied by our artist. The first view of the House of Commons convinces the stranger that it is a place of business — that is not an arena for oratorical display. There being no forum upon which the declaimer can attitudinize — no theatrical private boxes — no draperies — not an ornament of any kind. The benches being simply of wood — the only soft seat is that belonging to the Speaker, being what is commonly known as an " easy chair," placed upon a platform reached by three circular steps, and backed by a screen surmounted by the royal arms. The Speaker, the clerks of Parliament, and the Serjeant at arms, are the only persons who wear a distinctive costume. The rows of seats to the left of the spectators are the ministerial benches — those to the right being occupied by the opposition ; the leaders of each party usually sitting on the front seats. The members differing in politics who sit on the cross benches in the fore-ground of our plate, are separated merely by the aisle at the entrance to the house. The stranger's gallery, as well as the seats for the peers when they visit the commons, under it, are not seen in the accompanying picture. The reporters' gallery is immediately opposite to the stranger's and behind the Speaker's chair ; thus, except the Speaker, whom they seldom have occasion to report, they can see every member in the house. The galleries which run along the sides of the apartment are for members only. The table upon which it is so often ordered that the petitions, &c., " do lie," though capacious, is occasionally completely loaded in one evening. At one end of it the three clerks of parliament are seated, to take notes of such part of the proceedings as need to be recorded. At the opposite end of the table 102 LONDON INTEBIORS. lies the mace, but when a committee of the whole house is formed, this symbol of parliament is put under it, and on those occasions the Speaker leaves the chair, which is taken by the chairman of committees, a salaried member appointed at the commence- ment of every parliament. At each extremity of the house is a lobby, one behind the Speaker's chair, the other at the regular entrance. These lobbies form an important part of the machinery of voting. When a question is " put" from the chair, *' those who are of that opinion" (the " ayes"), leave the house and assemble in one lobby, whilst those on the contrary, who disagree with the proposition (the " noes"), meet in the other. This process is aptly called *' dividing the house, " but every person being now absent (for reporters and strangers are also ordered to withdraw) except the Speaker, the clerks, and members of each party who act as "tellers," the door of one lobby is opened and the M.P.'s walk in separately so as to be counted by the tellers. When they all regain their places, and it is understood they are " all told," the occupants of the other lobby are admitted seriatim, the same formality is gone through, and the question is decided by the majority of " ayes" or " noes."* The lighting and ventilation of the House of Commons are admirably arranged. Three chandeliers supplied with bude lights illuminate the body of the house, whilst the reporters' and strangers' galleries are lighted by two smaller lamps. A strong light is emitted from two holes in the ceiling, the rays of which fall in front of the Speaker's chair, so as to enable that functionary to read whatever papers he has occasion to peruse. A constant supply of fresh air is supplied from below, through the flooring, which is perforated for that purpose with innumerable small holes, and covered with porous hair matting. The scene represented in the engraving is the occasion of some person being brought to the bar to receive a reprimand from the Speaker. He has been guilty of some disrespect to the house. Perhaps he has been, a witness before a committee selected to enquire into the validity of a recent election, and has been guilty of prevarication. Possibly he is an electioneering agent, and having received six thousand pounds from his principal, the candidate declared that he has not, and never has had the slightest notion for what the money was intended, and quite forgets how he actually applied it ! At all events the Speaker is reprimanding him for some wilful falsehood or con- cealment of the truth, or for some other breach of the privileges of the house — and much he cares about it. Seated at the tables on each side are persons interested in the deUn- * When the whole house sits in committee the assentients generally go to one side of the house, an the dissentients to the other. They are thus enumerated without leaving the house at all J HOUSE OF COMMONS. 103 quent; his lawyer or other friends. The figure with the wand of offlce is the sergeant-at-arms, in whose custody the individual has been brought up. The dreaded "bar" is nothing more than two circular pieces of iron, drawn out from under each of the small tables and screwed together in the middle. It only makes its appearance on such occasions as we are describing. During the Session the members usually meet at 4 o'clock, but no business can be transacted unless forty be present. The first proceeding is the reading of prayers by the chaplain : mere matters of form are then proceeded with, such as the presenta- tion of petitions, or giving notices that at a future day named a certain motion will be made. The orders of the day, or such discussions as have previously been arranged to take place, are entered into, after the above formulary business has been transacted. No new measure can be introduced after midnight, unless under very especial circumstances ; and parliament is adjourned from day to day on the motion of one of the members, which is carried or rejected exactly similiar to any other question. The " house" is prorogued at the end of the Session either by the Sovereign in per- son, or by a commission consisting of the Lord Chancellor and some other cabinet ministers. A new Session is opened by a speech from the throne, or from the woolsack, in the Lords, when the Commons are summoned to the bar of that house. An address is then separately voted to the Crown from both assemblies, which generally proves to be an echo of the speech. The debates upon the address, however, bring out the sentiments of the different speakers ; and although the speeches or addresses are for the most part matters of form, they give occasion for those useful varieties of opinion which arises in such mixed assemblies as those of our Legislative representatives. General councils of the nation are coeval with the kingdom itself, and the parlia- ment was so called as far back as the year 1215. Even in 1259, before the separate existence of the House of Commons, a Speaker or president of parliament was appointed, but it was not till the 20th of January, 1265, that the Lords and representatives of the Commonalty deliberated apart. In each house the legislative transactions, and other events connected with parliament, are recorded in a journal : that belo-nging to the ouse of Lords was commenced in 1509, when Henry VIIT. was king. The journals of the Commons, however, did not begin till the succeeding reign, and are continued uninterruptedly down to the present time. During the great rebellion the House of Lords was, as it were, put down by act of parliament; for the Legislative functions of the aristocracy, were, on the 19th of March, 1619, declared useless by the Long Parliament, so violently dissolved by Oliver Cromwell four years afterwards. By this act he may be said to have abolished parlia- ment altogether, as, from that time, the war of words in St. Stephen's Chapel wa^ 104 LONDON INTERIOES. transferred to that of deadly weapons in the field, and party leaders led their follower« to battle during the hottest portion of that unfortunate rebellion, which for more than forty years devastated the three kingdoms. In May 1659, however, the " parliament men" returned to more peaceful avocations, assembling as before in Westminster. In 1694, a bill was passed, by which triennial parliaments were established; but this was repealed in 1716, when the present arrangement^ — that of septennial ones — was made. In 1801, the parliament became " Imperial," by the abolition of the Irish house, and Roman Catholics were allowed seats in St. Stephen's in 1829. In 1834 both Houses of Parliament were burnt down, and the present ones substituted, the House of Commons we at present write of standing upon the site of the old House of Lords. If this were a place to enter more fully into the interesting details of Parliamen- tary history, we might picture to our readers that part of the palace at Eltham, now a barn, in which Peter de la Mare, the first Speaker, presided over the assembled Commons in 1337 ; we might record the events of the long parliament, dilate on the doings of " the Rump," when Cromwell converted the protracted session into an interminable committee of the whole house, by telling them, in allusion to that important emblem, the mace, to " take that bauble away," and causing it to be hidden till the Restoration restored it, among other things, to its proper use and dignity ; together with divers other matters worthy of record — but our picture book being the very mirror of the existing metropolis, aftbrds neither cue nor space for such a narrative, absorbingly interesting as it is. It js with regret, therefore, that we lay down our pen. rSfM^/^ 'l^^dyA.:/^ 'w.- :<^.^^ .^.-^' ^.>^/^.- 105 ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. .4KNIVERSARY MEETING OF THE CHILDREN OF THE CHARITY SCHOOLS OF LONDON AND ITS ENVIRONS. , In the picture of social life presented by great Britain, its charities stand proudly in the foreground. Compare it with the tableaux of manners and morals exhibited by any other coimtry upon earth, and benevolence — so extensive as to be completely national — forms its most prominent characteristic. There is scarcely a description of accident or misfortune to which human nature is liable, but to relieve which the hand of char^/ is stretched forth. Sickness has its hospitals, old age its alms-houses, destitution its temporary homes. Even crime, the most wretched though the least excusable of all misfortunes, is cared for ; and institutions for its reform, and for encouraging its victims to lead a new life, are abundant. Yet, unhappily, benevolence itself may be abused, charity misplaced, and it has been urged, that efforts which are so extensively made to do good, occasionally produce evil — that they tend to weaken, in those they design to benefit, the spirit of self- dependence, and the desire for exertion which is so essential to their permanent welfare. That the public have of late years become sensible of this, is evident, from the inter- ference of the legislature with the administration of the charitable oflBce. In the cause of education, however, this objection has never been urged, because it has never existed. The diffusion of knowledge — and particularly of elementary knowledge — amongst those who would, but for the voluntary aid of the more opulent, go through Hfe in the darkness of ignorance, can never for a moment be impeded by the sHghtest breath of rational objection. Happily, narrow-minded prejudice, which has so frequently directed its hurtful shafts against other institutions and benevolent observances, has left I the subject of charitable education untouched ; for it leaves no vulnerable point open I for attack. The spectacle annually presented in St. Paul's Cathedral is a glorious testimony to the correctness of these views. There are assembled, in picturesque array, the members of all the Parochial Schools of London and its environs, to assist in the performance of divme service. ^^" LONDON INTERIORS. So immense a congregation must necessarily require a very considerable management in detail, so as to ensure that seemly order and exactitude of arrangement which, to the astonishment of every stranger who has been present at the anniversary, is so effectually preserved and carried out. This is undertaken by a Society, entitled " The Society of Patrons of Charity Schools," which consists exclusively of subscribers to and supporters of the various Parochial Schools in and near the Metropohs. This admirable institution was formed by a number of gentlemen in 1710, for the purpose of promoting parochial education, and of showing from year to year the progress of their labours, by assembling the objects of their care in one body. The anniversary was for some time held in St. Sepulchre's and other Metropolitan churches ; hut so rapidly did the cause flourish ; so ably was it seconded by the Patron's Society, that for the last sixty years the immense area under the Cupola of St. Paul's Cathedral, has been found not too great to contain the vast assemblage. The details of management for the Anniversary are as follows: — Twenty patrons are chosen at the Annual Meeting of the Society in October, as a sort of Committee of Management ; nine from that part of London and its environs which lie to the West of Gray's Inn and Chancery Lanes ; nine from that portion of the Metropohs which lies to the East of those lanes, and two from the South side of the river. To them is confided the ordering of all matters connected with the ensuing festival in the schools, which each takes under his superintendence, and which belong to his own district. Besides these, the Society provides a general singing master, who visits in the course of the year every school, to watch the progress of the children, xmder their own organist, in the psalms and hymns appointed to Be sung on the grand day, so as to produce that uniformity in their execution which is generally so well attained. It is at the expence of the Patrons' Society, that the scaffolding, raised within the Cathedral upon -which the children are ranged, is put up ; and on the arrival of each school, its members, headed by the parish-beadle, instructors, &c., having had their position previously assigned to them, walk straight to their appointed places, without the least confusion or delay. They conmience arriving at ten o'clock, and in a short time the whole have assembled ; when the public are admitted. The coup d'ceil thus presented is perfectly unique — ^its has no parallel. The extent and magnificence of the building ; the vast numbers of children, arrayed in many coloured uniforms, ranged along every side of the structure, one above the other ; the solemn peals of the organ reverberating through the aisle and transepts of that hallowed temple, cannot fail in awakening the liveliest emotions within the least excitable beholder. In another point, this exhibition is extremely well worthy of attention ; namely, that set forth by its costumes. The children present, by the fashion of their attire the date, as it were of the foundation of their school. The long frock, with the ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. 107 yellow tunic and small trencher cap, denote that the formation of the charity took place about the time of Edward the Sixth, by whom Christ-church Hospital was founded; and the dress of its scholars resembles very nearly that of the dress we have above described. Later foimdations may be inferred from the tailed coat, leather breeches, and clasped shoes. In short, a regular gradation of costume may be noted from the earhest time of EngHsh civilization, down to the round jacket and military cap of some of the present school uniforms. In female dress, but little variation can be detected ; indeed, scarcely any, except between the very ancient and the very modem. But it is as a moral spectacle that this exibition is so surpassing — it is an effectual display of pure benevolence, directed to spread over the assembled thousands the most essential and lasting benefits — it is a grateful tribute to the memory of those of our ancestors who originated the schools, and an animating incentive to the present age to patronise and transmit to posterity such excellent institutions. The simultaneous movements of this youthful multitude "have been aply likened to the action of the summer wind on a field of corn ; the Christian will carry the simile further and deeper, and gather from the scene the assurance that the good seed has been sown — and the hope that it has fallen upon good groimd — that the vast living field which spreads before him, is a harvest of sotils ripening for the garners of God." The effect produced by the combination of many voices, can only be conceived by those who have heard them. The music they sing is simply arranged in two parts; that is to say, for sopranos and contraltos, with no other basses than those supplied by the organ. To ensure perfect ensemble the singing master is placed in a pulpit, in sight of all his pupils, and from it beats time. The bell shape of the interior of the dome causes the various sounds issuing beneath, to collect and concentrate, sending them back with increased vibration, so as to produce a most startling effect upon those who have not before heard it. To those who stand in the centre of the area, which is the focus to which the sound converges in its rebound from the Cupola, this combination has been described to us as producing an extraordinary and powerful sensation ; so much so as to act on the nervous system, in some instances, to a serious degree ; ladies having been more than once removed from the scene in a state of confirmed syncope. But in situations less exposed to the concentration of sound, the effects deserve the epithet enchanting ; giving the notion of a bright, clear stream of melody. Visitors are admitted by tickets allotted by the various schools, and are also expected to make a contribution at the doors, the proceeds of which are appropriated to increase those parochial schools whose funds stand in the most necessitous condition. In the year 1839, the sum of £643. 10s. 7d. was collected, and may be taken as an average of the receipts of the more recent anniversaries. Royalty has frequently lent its presence to these 108 LONDON INTERIORS. interesting occasions, and once in full state. George the Third, accompanied by many of his family and state retinue, paid a visit in 1790, and presented one thousand pounds to to the Patrons' Society. In 1814, the late Emperor of Russia was present. William the Fourth, when Duke of Clarence, the Queen Dowager, the Duchess of Kent, and our present Queen, when Princess Victoria, have also at various times added to the interest of the scene, and to the funds of the charities. At a late Anniversary, the Duke and Duchess and Heredi- tary Prince of Saxe Meiningen, the Duchess Ida and Prince Gustavus, and the Princesses of Saxe Weimar, were present in the cathedral, and appeared deeply interested in the affecting and peculiarly English spectacle. The central area under the cupola of St. Paul's, in which this Anniversary takes place, is in itself one of the architectural wonders of the Metropolis. Though of vast extent, it is circumscribed by eight large piers, equal in size, but not equi-distant ; so that four great openings occur in the spaces between them, where the nave, choir, and transepts diverge from the great circle. The height is in proportion to the other dimen- sions, and thus the immensity of the mere .space enclosed, gives a grandeur to the structure independent of its intrinsic beauties. The site of the Cathedral was, it is conjectured, originally occupied by a Roman Temple, dedicated to Diana. This supposition seems to have originated from a statement of Flete, a monk of Westminster, and from the fact of Roman pottery, consisting of urns, vases, ampuliae, having been found during the necessary excavation for the foundations of the present building. This rose from the ashes of the Old Cathedral, which was too much injured by the great fire of London to be restored, and Sir Christopher Wren's design was commenced in 1675. In thirty-five years the building was completed, the highest stone on the top of the lantern having been placed by the architect's son, in 1710. The total cost of St. Paul's was £747,954. 2s. 9d. We cannot dismiss St. Paul's Cathedral without an expression of the most unmittigated disgust at the greedy and disgraceful custom of exacting twopence for a sight of the interior. At all times except during service (^ to 10 in the morning and ^ past 3 in the afternoon) is this paltry charge insisted on. What foreigners think of such a petty robbery we know not; but it can only be looked upon with the deepest sorrow by every one who feels attached to the Established Church of the country. 109 HORSE GUARDS. THE commander-in-chief's LEVBE. The Commander-in-Cluef of the British forces may be considered as the Queen s sole military vicegerent. To him is unreservedly confided the rule and governance of the whole army ; he directs its movements, enforces that discipline by which its conduct is so eflSciently regulated, urges it into the field, or withdraws it from the theatre of warfare. In these aspects of his office he is exhibited in a warlike, official, and consti- tutional character; our plate, on the contrary, presents him in a moral, humane, and almost domestic capacity; we here behold him a patient auditor of individual com- plaints, the redresser of grievances, a helper of the unfortunate, the rewarder of merit ana long services. The Commander-in-Chief is accessible not only to every commissioned officer of the British army, but to his immediate connexions, his wife, sisters, sons, or daughters ; and for this purpose he holds a levee twice in each week, once in person, and once by deputy.* Every person desirous of attending it, previously sends a letter, expressing that intention, and stating the object of his visit, and as these interviews are considered strictly confidential, by endorsing it " for the levee," he ensures its being opened and read by the great military authority addressed, and by him only. His or her name is then transferred to a Ust, against a number which regulates the order of the applicants' reception; the ladies are always of course seen first. That number is copied upon the back of each visitor's letter, which is also indorsed vsdth a memorandmn, from which the answer is orally delivered at the interview. Thus, the Chief is at no loss, and time is not wasted in discussion. AU the pomp and circumstance with which other military transactions arc invested, are at the Horse Guards dispensed with. During this levee, there is an entire absence of ceremony of every description. The attending officers appear en bourgeois ; the Commander-in-Chief alone wearing regimentals. ITie suite of rooms, also, used for the purpose, consists only of three, namely, — a waiting room, a vestibule, (in which the ladies abide their turn,) and the audience chamber represented in the engraving The first of these is a good sized apartment, facing Whitehall, the walls displaying a * That of the Military Secretary (Lord Fitzroy Somerset) is held on Tuesdays ; the Commander-in- Chief's Levee takes place generally on Thursdays. 110 LONDON INTERIOKS. kind of geographical tableau of the world, by being almost lined with maps. Chairs, placed with military precision, exactly equi-distant, surroimd the room. The vestibvile is a small circular hall, possessing nothing more remarkable than the boundary line of the parishes of St. Martin's and St. Margaret's, Westminster, which is cut through its centre, and accompanied with suitable inscriptions. The audience room, which faces St. James's Park, is adorned with the only ornaments in the whole suite : — these consist of portraits by Gainsborough, of George the Third and his Consort, together with half-a-dozen helmets, placed in a row upon one of the sofas. Even the pictures have a cold, official look : the attitudes of the figures presenting a degree of military formality, which harmonises well with the business-like air of the whole scene. A bust of the Duke of York is the only chimney ornament. The ladies, as we before mentioned, being always presented first, assemble in the vestibule, which intervenes between the waiting and audience rooms; so that before the gentlemen's turn comes, the vestibule is, of course, empty. The attendant in waiting, bearing a copy of the numbered list above described, calls out the name of the visitor who is to be seen, and ushers her into the presence of the Commander-in-Chief. The confidential nature of the interview admits the presence of no other person, not even the private secretary. Thus, there is every encouragement offered for the most minute and circumstantial detail of private feelings, and domestic matters, into which the head of the army fully enters, with a view to serving the applicant, in proportion to the claims put forward. This shows us the high office in an interesting, an amiable hght. The military chief is no longer planning orders for operations, the end and aim of which is the sacrifice of human life, but he is feelingly doing his part to assist the strugghng or to benefit the widow and fatherless. Our present tableau exhibits the widow of an officer who has fallen in the field, soliciting for her son a presentation to Sandhurst College, or some other military school, and, however opinions may vary respecting unequally-bestowed patronage in military affairs, consequent upon the sale of commis- sions system — yet one fact has never been questioned, namely, that, of late years at least, whatever official or private benefits' are in the gift of the Commander-in-Chief, these have been uniformly awarded to individuals whose claims to them are the strongest. The fact of a father of a boy dying in the service of his country is, in nearly aU cases, deemed ireisistible ; and such applications as the one we have imagined, are certain to be eventually granted. The ladies having all been received and dismissed, the gentlemen are then simi- moned, seriatim, in such a manner as no moment of time shall be lost : for the next on the list to the one with the Commander-in-Chief is called from the waiting room to remain in the vestibule, so as to make his appearance in the audience chamber the instant liis predecessor has quitted it. Such an economy of time is necessary, for on J HORSE GUARDS. Ill most occasions the visitor? exceed fifty in number, and the levee lasts from eleven till four o'clock, during all which time the Commander-in-Chief never once sits down. Some of the visits are merely ceremonial; others — and by far the greater number — are made to follow up previously-forwarded applications for one of the few military appointments in the gift of the Chief. As to promotions, solicitation fior that is next to useless ; for a general rule governs that, which is purchase : its only exceptions being either death, vacancies filled up by seniority, the promotion of non-commissioned officers (generally with a view to securing them an ensign's half-pay on retirement from the service), or the presentation of commissions as prizes to the most proficient pupUs of the Royal Military College at Sandhurst. When it is understood that there are in the British army seventy-five full generals, three hundred and sixty lieutenant and major generals, with officers of lower rank, amounting to ten times that number, all of whom, with their connexions, have the right of audience with the Commander-in-Chief, it will be easily considered that the time set apart for receiving them is not too short for the purpose. Nor is that time uselessly employed by either party, it gives the Chief an opportunity of becoming personally acquainted with his officers, and affords the latter that direct communi- cation with their superior which is so much more convenient and effectual than the circuitous methods employed in getting at the heads of other departments. The apartment in which the military chief of the empire comes into personal com- mimication with his officers, presents, historically, one of the most important rooms in the kingdom. It is, in point of fact, the official head-quarters of the whole army, and in it all the great military operations of the late wars w^re planned. Those of tiie last European struggle were carried into effect by the present Commander-in-Chief, who, despite the unwise policy of his then civil superiors, and the prejudices and ingra- titude of the strongest cast, which crippled his resources ; together with other disad- vantages presented on the field itself, which would have weighed down the resolution of an Alexander or a Hannibal, achieved a series of more brilliant successes than the pen of history had up to that time been able to record. Throughout the whole of his campaigns, both in India and upon the European continent, his career displayed him as a general combining the wisdom and forethought of an unrivalled military politician, with the covirage and science of a great military commander. In the former capacity his tran- scendent talents have now, happily for England, their full exercise ; and it should be a subject of national gratitude that he is. still spared us to preside over and to direct the most important, but in less skilful hands, the most dangerous, engine of govern- ment. Unfortunately the exercise of his unequalled genius and experience was never more required, both at home and abroad, than at the present moment. The building in which the mihtary affairs of the empire are transacted standson 112 Lr)NDON INTERIORS. the site of the tilt yard, (or place for military exercises,) which formerly was attache J to Whitehall, and is comparatively of recent origin. Soon after Charles II. was restored to the throne, he raised a body of troops, which he entitled "horse guards,'' to whom the special duty was assigned of protecting the king's person. For this troop stables and barracks Wixe built in the tilt yard, but in 1751 were pulled down to make way for the present edifice. The architect of the edifice was Vardy, whose design was carried out at a cost of thirty thousand pounds. Architectural critics have com- plained of the unsightly lowness of the whole building; the three arches at the entrance to the park being but just high enough to admit of a tall trooper riding through on horse-back. This objection must strike every observer as fully justifiable. The building derives its name from a troop of horse-guards being constantly on duty in it; accommodation for them being provided by two lateral pavilions, which flank the east face of the main building. The apartments to the south of the arches are occupied by the Secretary-at war, his assistants and clerks, who manage all the fiscal dusiness of the army. The Commander-in-Chief's department, conducted in the northern apartments is solely devoted to the government, discipline, and movements of the military. Facing the park there is a guard-station for infantry. The rigid pimctuality with which the slightest military movement is executed, has always given an authorative reputation for correctness to the Horse Guards' Clock; which renders it the grand regulator of all the time-pieces in London and its vicinity. Insomuch that when a watch-maker desires to convince you of the excellence of the article you are in treaty for, he assures you that its movements exactly correspond to the horological performances at "The Horse Guards." ^:'/////-//i//:^:'^' ^.l?//Jy. r-„vA..-.-r:^^, / 113 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY: CONSECRATION OF THE COLONIAL BISHOPS. This is the second visit we have paid in the course of our work to Westminster Abbey, and we do not think our readers will quarrel with us for the preference. The recollections that are treasured in every nook of the place ; the many illustrious names that adorn its hallowed walls ; the monuments and numerous works of art that sanctify each aisle and chapel; all connect it with the calmest thoughts, and most refined feelings of our nature. It is true, a king died under its roof — but then, poor Henry the Fourth died a natural death — in the act of prayer — "being suddenly seized with pain," whilst paying his devotions at the 'holy shrine.' His death was the result of old age, and accumulated infirmities, too trying for his emaciated body to bear; and the memory of the Old Abbey is as undefiled in the present century, as on the first day, when St Peter is said to have declared it " consecrated with my own hands, honoured with my presence, and made renowned by my miracles." Westminster Abbey is the great Domesday-book of England ; each part of it reveals a aifferent epoch or event in her history ; and it is as much an illustration of the triumphs and glories that constitute its annals, as the Pantheon was of those of ancient Rome. Poets, who have given our language an immortality that will carry the name of England into ages yet in the womb of time — heroes, who have vindicated with their blood the insults to their country, and died in struggling for the freedom we now enjoy — states- men, who have contributed to the civilization that England, like a fond mother, is now distributing to her adopted children — and philanthropists, who have dedicated the whole energies of their life, and gladly given the whole resources of their fortune, towards purchasing for their less favoured brethren the same rights and natural gifts they themselves had inherited. These are the real beauties of Westminster Abbey. These are the true points of sight of the edifice ; the most prominent features which first address themselves to the mind, and live the longest there. Not all the architec- tural charms, magnificent as they are, of the Abbey ; not even the " fretted roof," which as Washington Irving says so truly, "looks as if it were suspended aloft by magic;" not even the "world's wonder,^' Henry the Seventh's Chapel, with its tomb, " the daintiest and stateliest in Europe," as my Lord Bacon styles it ; not all its painted and rose-windows, with their ruby richness of light, or the now-buried secret of tLeir 114 LONDON INTERIORS. vividness of colour; are worth the single name of Shakspeare, that hallows its sacred walls with an almost religious force. Watts and Caxton, too, inhabit the place, and make us dwell with fondness on the spot which reminds us of the princely benefits they have each bequeathed to England and the world. The many allusions to Westminster Abbey that occur in almost every volume of our literature, must of itself endear its memory to every true-hearted Englishman. ' Poet's Corner' is a spot that has been visited, from Addison down to Washington Irving, by every essayist of his day, and its tombs have been described and alluded to so often by writers of every period, that they must be familiar to all. A volume of the Citizen of the World, or an hour's conversation with Sir Roger de Coverley, will conjure up any tomb we wish to ridicule or reverence, and in their company we can at midnight laugh at the stone which is still shown to country cousins, as "Jacob's Pillow," or else admire Roubilliac's fine monument to Mrs. Nightingale, without even stirring from our beds. It is recorded by Dart, that King Edward, the " woman-hearted Confessor," presented to the West Minster, when he rebuilt it at the instigation of the vision that appeared under the form and voice of St. Peter, to Wulsinus to the monk, some most •costly' relics. He says, that he endowed it with "part of the manger" where Christ was born, and of the frankincense ofiered to him by the Eastern Magi ; of the table of our Lord; of the bread which he blessed; of his undivided garment ; of the sponge, lance, and scourge, with which he was tortured ; great part of the Holy Cross enclosed in a second one particularly beautified, and distinguished with many ditterent pieces of the same, and a bit of one of the nails belonging to it ; and also of the cross that floated against wind and wave over sea from Normandy, liither with tha king; many pieces of the vestments of Queen Mary ; of the Hnen which she wore ; of her hair ; of her shoes ; and of her bed ;a Iso of the girdle which she worked with her own hands, always wore, and dropped to St. Thomas the Apostle, at her Assumption ; of the hairs . of St. Peter's beard; and part of his garment." We are curious to know what hard \ vicissitude attended these relics ; for it is certain that none of them, not even a hair, | exist at the present day ; at least, in Westminster Abbey, of whose riches they formed, at j one time, the most imposing part. We suppose that the Reformation swept them away, i or else that they were thrown into the Thames, as so much lumber, "by the troopers ; of the Commonwealth, when they broke into the Abbey, turned the chapels of its saints j into barracks, and having pawaed the organ pipes, enjoyed the profits in a carousal j over the ashes of Edward the Confessor." ; The solemn mummeries, formerly perpetrated under the name of Religion, and j which these relics must have helped to perpetrate, no longer hold sway and desecration ij in the Abbey. The dust and sweepings of the shrine and chapel of St. Edward, are no ] WESTMINSTER ABBEY. - 115 ionger exported to Spain and Portugal, as Brayley tells us in his Londiniana, and there sold exorbitantly by the barrel ! This traffic, as well as that of the letters of dispensa- tion, and other equally curious means of obtaining money from the superstitious, have long been discontinued, and the Abbey is called upon to witness only such scenes as promote, by the fraternizing influence of religion, universal peace, happiness, and good feeling amongst all men. Such a scene the Abbey witnessed on the 24th of August of the present year. Five new Colonial Bishops on that day were consecrated, previous to their departure for their respective dioceses. Since the venerable pile has been dedicated to divine worship, under the auspices of the Reformation, no occasion has presented itself in which the Protestant Church has had such occasion to rejoice. This consecration leads to the extension of the Episcopal Church of England, by the addition of five new sees to its constituency. The ceremony was conducted with all becoming solemnity. The public was admitted to the Cathedral by cards, and the choir was set apart for the clergy, who attended in great numbers. In consequence of the indisposi- tion of His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury, the consecration of the five colonial prelates was by commission entrusted to the Bishops of London, Winchester, and Rochester, by whom the ceremony was performed. The service was commenced by the morning prayer for the day, according to the rubric. The prayers were chanted by the Rev. Mr. Lupton. The lessons were read by the Rev. Mr, Waters, and the litany and communion service by the Bishop of London. • The sermon was preached by Dr. Coleridge, th« late Bishop of Barbadoes, who chose for his text the very appropriate fifth and sixth verses of the 43rd chapter of Isaiah : — " Fear not : for I am with thee : I wilj bring thy seed from the east, and gather thee from the west ; I will say to the north. Give up ; and to the south, Keep not back : bring my sons from far, and my daughters from the ends of the earth." After the sermon, which was most eloquent and impressive, the ceremony of the consecration was performed, the bishops being presented by the Bishop of Chichester and the late Bishop of Barbadoes, in the following order : Dr. Parry, Bishop of Barba- does ; Dr. Tomlinson, Bishop of Gibraltar ; Dr. Nixon, Bishop of Van Dieman's Land ; Dr. Davis, Bishop of Antigua ; Dr. Austin, Bishop of Guiana. When the ceremony was concluded, the Sacrament was administered to a great number of communicants, and as large a sum as £123 - shewing the interest that was felt on the occasion — was collected at the offertory. " Nothing," says an eye-witness of the ceremony, "could surpass the devotional and dignified effect of this imposing ceremony ; and every heart seemed to rejoice that so efficient a step had at length been taken by the Church for the propagation of the national faith. Other bishoprics are shortly to be formed for New Brunswick, the Cape of Good Hope, and Ceylon. 116 LONDON INTERIORS. The Choir, in which the solemnization of this impressive ceremony took place, boasts of numerous attraction. In the east, and immediately before the altar, there is a Mosaic pavement, enriched with innumerable tesserae of porphyry, jasper, alabaster, lapis-lazuli, and various marbles, all figured in shapes of diffeient kinds, — such as stars, squares, circles, wedges, lozenges, varying in size from half an inch to about four inches, and displaying much good contrast of colour in circles, paralellograms, hexagons, and triangles. In one angle there are no less than one hundred and thirty intersecting circles. Some ancient Latin lines were inserted in this pavement, of which only a stray brass letter or two can now be seen. They were thought to interpret the design of the figures, which, says Widmore, " was to represent the time the world was to last." The pavement was laid down at the expense of Henry III., in the year 1268. Abbot Ware, the then abbot, who lies buried near this mosaic, brought the stones from Italy, and employed Odoric of Rome to lay the different tesserce together in their present ingenious and fanciful manner. The altar screen, of Caen stone, is composed of richly carved niches and canopies, and forms a magnificent frame-work for the exhibition of the massive gold fiagons and salvers of the communion service. The Choir round the altar used formerly to be hung with cloth of arras, embodying the principal events, legendary and real, of the life of Edward the Confessor. Dugdaie says, they were removed, during the Commonwealth, to ornament the House of Commons. Other tapestries ornamented the Choir at the coronation of James II. Of one of these — the Circumcision — a remnant is still preserved in the Jerusalem chamber. The pavement, which consists of black and white marble diagonally set, was laid at the expense of the celebrated pedagogue, Dr. Busby, in 1695. On the north side of the Choir are the tombs of the Countess of Lancaster, the Earl of Pembroke, and the Earl of Lancaster. The monuments of King Sebert, Aymer de Valence, and Anne of Cleves, are on the south side. King Sebert s tomb presents some most interesting remnants of decorative oil painting. His remains, found undecayed, though buried 700 years, were removed hither in the fourteenth century. The tomb of Aymer de Valence is a noble example of the Norman with the richness of florid Gothic decoration. If the reader require a stronger inducement to admire the beauties of the Choir, we would urge him to visit them; assuring him that that part of the Abbey affords the fines; view of the interior of the Cathedral. The pointed style of architecture is seen nowhere to better advantage than from the Choir. I 117 VINTNERS' HALL: THE OLD COUNCIL CHAMBER. The Livery Companies hold no insignificant rank in the history of the City of London. Their wealth, the important trusts reposed in them, the noble charities they support, and their connection with the Civil Constitution of the Metropolis, make them not only of primary consequence to every Liveryman and Freeman, but also of engross- ing" interest to every one who takes a pleasure in being acquainted with the institutions that had the earliest share in laying the foundation of the commerce of his country, and who loves to know something of the government, religion, customs, habits, and expenses under which such institutions attained their princely prosperity The Vintners' Company, though comparatively little known at the present day, occupied, a century ago, a high position amongst its kindred Companies. The greatest proof of the estimation it enjoyed is to be found in the flattering fact of its producing from its institution till the year 1711, not fewer than fourteen Lord Mayors. It is indebted for its charter to King Edward III. This charter granted them the exclusive right to trade "to Gascoyne" for wine. It bore date 1363, and was inspected and confirmed by King Henry VI., 1427; and as late as the year 1567, several Vintners, free of other Companies, were hindered from the sale of wine, under the authority of this Act. The Vintners are possessed of a very considerable estate, out of whici is annuity paid, to charitable uses, no less a sum than £640. They comprehend one Master, three Wardens, sixty-two Assistants, and two hun- dred and fifty liverymen. They may sell Wines within the City and liberties, without licence — and have many other privileges. Of the eleven Companies, of some one of which the Ijord Mayor must be free, the Vintners' Company must be one. The " Vintry," before the fire of London, is described, by Stow, as "a part of the bank of the river Thames, where the merchants of Bordeaux craned their wines out of lighters and other vessels, and there landed and made sale of them within forty days after." This was in the reign of Edward the Sixth. " Since which time," continues Stow, " many faire houses have been builded in place, where before were cookes' houses." These " cookes' houses" remained as the peculiar feature that characterise this neighbourhood as late as the reign of Elizabeth, and were supported by the sea- 118 LONDON INTERIORS. faring men who frequented Queenhithe. These "faire houses," together with the almshouses that skirted them for thirteen poor people, who were " kept of charity rent free," were all burnt to the ground by the Great Fire. After this calamity, the Hall was rebuilt on an enlarged scale, on the site of the previous Hall, and other houses were erected near them; which the Company Jet till they were obliged to pull them down to widen Thames Street, and to further enlarge the Hall premises. The Hall of a public company — of which such few specimens, iminjured by time or innovation, are left to us — was then an immense room, giving name, as now, to a whole range of contingent buildings, which the fraternity themselves generally termed "their house." It mostly had an open timber roof, for the fishmongers suspended the leading articles of their pageants from it, and this probably was the custom as well with the other companies. A lantern in the centre, and elevated Gothic windows on the sides, '* richly dight " with the arms of benefactors, threw the dimmed sun- beams on a surface of gorgeous tapestry which filled up the space between the win- dows and the floor. The history of their patron-saint was generally the pattern, embodied on this tapestry. The floor was only strewn with rushes; ^nd the tables were rough, unpolished boards, placed upon common tressels. Pewter vessels, though hired at the Brewers' Company, were chiefly confined to the use of the kitchen. The tables of the other companies, and that of the Vintners', conspicuous amongst the richest, were most efFulgently resplendent with their massive display of plate. The minstrels were placed in a gallery aloft, at a good height above the guests, and at the back, on a temporary platform, the players unwound their tragic story. The Vintners' Hall faces Thames Street. It is recognizable by the large figure of Bacchus striding his tun, that boldly projects out from the columns of the gate. The Hall, however, rests its claims for notice upon the Council Chamber, which the Com- pany have succeeded, during all the great changes which have occurred to their building since the great fire, in preserving happily in its pristine state. This chamber is now all that remains of the ancient building that was erected immediately after the fire, upon the ground that was presented to the Company in 1357, by Sir John Stodie, a Vintner and Lord Mayor. This chamber has such a venerable air, and looks so snug withal, that we cannot too well appreciate the good taste that has decreed, and afiectionately watched, its preservation, to recall the days of yore by its visible and inseparable association with them. Beneath this roof, so rich in its carved beams and elaborate mouldings, the members of the Vintners' Company have transacted their business, and held friendly intercovirse for nearly five centuries. The arms of previous members of the Company vintners' hall. 119 brilliantly emblazoned, decorate its walls, surrounded by wreaths of finely carved flowers ; and some few portraits of distinguished members of the Company look down from their frames upon the spectator, in "full-blown dignity" of wig, gown, and chain. There are, in addition, some good full-length portraits of our sovereigns, and one in particular of Charles the Second, by Lely. A beautiful old clock, and various pier- glasses, stretching almost from floor to roof — all the gifts of members of the Company — aid in decorating the room ; and at its upper end is placed a richly carved oak chair, which is reported (as also is the room) to have been rescued in time from the flames of the Great Fire. This tradition, however, unfortunately is not sound enough to bear a strict enquiry, But the old chair can well dispense with any additional interest that tradition (even if true) might lend to it, for it is handsome enough of itself to attract and repay attention. It is ornamented with the arms of the Company, surrounded by a grape-vine, and as a specimen of antique furniture is perfect, and appropriate to its station, looking quite at home in this old room. Over the chimney-piece is a painting of St. Martin, on a white horse, dividing his eloak with our Saviour, who appeared to him in the character of a beggar. This painting is an original copy from the one by Rubens, at Windsor, and exhibits all that master's richness of colour, and power of touch. There is, besides, a statue of St. Martin, in the same room, and another picture of him above stairs. St. Martin was l^e patron saint of the Company, but why the preference was awarded to him, remains a matter of obscurity. St. Martin, in obedience to the established custom, left the Council Chamber, in the year 1702, to preside over a Lord Mayor's show, when Sir William Dash wood, one of his adopted children, served in the office of Mayor. He appeared on that occasion " on a stately white steed, richly plumed and comparisoned," attended by twenty dancing Satyrs^ and followed by a troop of cripples and beggars, supplicating his charity. On reaching St. Paul's Church Yard, the Saint made a stand, and to stop the cries of the mendicants, severed his scarf with his sword, and delivered to each a part. A few words will not be out of place here, on the subject of the costume depicted in our engraving, as worn by the principal figures. To describe all the points of city dress, and when and where such dresses originated, would carry us out too far, and perhaps not be generally interesting. We may just hint, that the colours of the various gowns, as worn by all who possess the right to appear in them in public, the fur that trims them, and the occasions upon which these dresses are assumed, are all subject to rules and laws " therefore provided." Long gowns, lined and edged with fur, were the indicative dress of merchants and citizens, from a very early period ; but they remain almost the same now as they were when first worn. In the time of Henry the Sixth, the gowns were confined by a girdle round the waist, which was discarded during the reign of Edward the Sixth, and from that period no perceptible difierence, worth noting, 120 LONDON IlfTERIORS. has occurred between this article of dress and that worn by the liverymen of the present day. A flat cap, placed upon the head of a modern liveryman, the gown so held thai none of the modem under-clothing could be seen, with a ruff and tight sleeve, will at once present the picture of a liveryman of that period ; and a few similar alterations in the present dress of the Sheriff, will give the exact costimae he wore some three or four centuries back. The barge-master's dress savours of antiquity in its jacket only. This was brought into fashion buring the reign of the eighth Harry, when the Thames was one of the most thronged and fashionable thoroughfares of London, and every noble or gentle- man kept his barge and his liveried retainers. The massive silver badge upon the sleeve of the jacket, bearing the arms or crest of his master, was generally adopted in accordance with the love of ancestral arms, then so prevalently indulged. These insignia — things to us of no more worth than a silvered surface of copper — were such sacred me- mentos with the proud nobiilty of the reign of Charles the First, that a member of the Commonalty was severely mulcted in the Star Chamber, for calling the swan of a nobleman's crest thus displayed on the jackets of one of his retainers, " a goose." The City compa- nies are now the only persons who retain this fashion, except some few of the Thames watermen, who are fortunate enough to gain the " coat and badge," that was left by Doggett, the comedian, to be rowed for on the Thames, between London and Battersea, every 1st of August, and which originated in his exuberant loyalty for the House of Han- over, who, onthat day, succeeded to the English throne. 131 THE ATHENJIUM A Club is 'defined by Johnson to be " an assembly of good fellows, meeting under certain conditions," but by Todd, " as an association of persons subjected to particular rales." We confess the allegiance of opinion seems to be due to the Doctor's definition, inasmuch as it includes as "good fellows," companionable, sociable, merry fellows, rather than to that of his editor, which admits of all the "humdrum fraternity," owing solely to their willingness to sumbit to the particular rule "of sitting in silence." Be this as it may, Clubs form a particular feature of EngHsh social life. Compelled by the very nature of his climate to forego all out-of-door amusements, the Englishman limits his hopes and pleasures to his home ; or centres them within the range of the circle it describes. No matter the state, the rank, or the society, this will be found to be universally true, whether considered with reference to the palace or the cottage, — imis ia vallibus antri Abdita, sole carens, non ulli pervia vento ; • . Tristis, et ignavi plenissinia frigoris ; et quae Igne vacit semper, caligine semper abundet A Club, therefore, being in most cases the extension only of the same principle ; or, to speak professionally, " the enlargement of the heart" in such points of feeling ; — " If not John Thompson ; at least John Thompson's friend" — became here very soon naturalized, if even it may not be considered, as William Cobbett said of Taxes, " an original invention of the Enghsh." The word itself is imtrans- lateably Enghsh ; it is the type of our moral constitution, wealthy, comfortable, and gregarious. Yet it is strange that whilst streets of magnificent mansions are rising around us, the architectural appearance of which is so greatly enhanced by estabhsh- ments of this kind, that so much diversity of opinion should exist, and so Httle should be, in fact, known of their government or objects. Mothers and wives consider them as the perdition of young men, and the ruin of good husbands ; and unmarried ladies are sceptical to the last, and to a degree beyond, if possible, upon their merits ; being quite of opinion that dear Henry has been by no means so attentive since he has joined his club. " Secta bipartite cum meas discixrit utroque ; Alterius vires subtrahit alter amor." Now, considering a club to be, as we have said, a part of the constitution, at kast, of the British character, we shall endeavour to show what it really is, and in what 122 LONDON INTERIORS. respects those of past times difier from the present. We cannot for this purpose do better than quote from the introduction to a clever work, entitled the " Clubs of London." " We do not, by any means, claim the honours of this venerable title for several modern subscription-houses, which, by a colloquial usurpation, are called Clubs. They are merely substitutes for the coffee-houses which they have superseded. It was not the love of pleasant companionship which gave them birth ; but a thrifty speculation, that purveys at the cheapest rate for sensual satisfaction, and is intent on nothing more than getting, with Harpagon, — 'bonne chere avec peu d'argent.' The social elements of the club-room go for nothing in such a calculation. Negative qualities merely are the tests of admission." The earhest Clubs mentioned in our popular literature, date from the seventeenth century; it was then that the Mermaid was established in Friday-street, of which Shakspere, Beaumont, Fletcher, Raleigh, Selden, Donne, &c., were members ; and where it is reported that the great poet of nature, owing to a surfeit, contracted the ill- ness of which he died. What the Club must have been, we may judge from the choice spirits whose names are enrolled as members ; better never were mixed together. Beaumont has himself recorded its wit and character : What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid ! heard works that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life ; then, where there hath been thrown Wit able enough to justify the town For three days past ; wit that might warrant be For the whole city to talk foolishly. This was followed by the Devil Tavern Club, for which Jonson wrote the "Leges Convivales," of which the following may be received, *' non verbum reddere verbo," as a fair translation : — 1 As the fund of our pleasure, let each pay his shot, 8 Let's have no disturbance about taking places. Except some change friend, whom a member briuRS in ; To show your nice breeding, or out of vain pride : 2 Far hence be the sad, the lewd fop, and the sot, 9 Let the drawers be ready with wine and fresh glasses ; For such have the plague of good company been. Let the waiters have eyes, though their tongues must J Let the learned and witty, the jovial and gay. The generons and honest, «ompose our free state ; 4 And the more to exalt our delight whilst we stay. Let none be debarred from his choice female mate. be dried. 10 Let our wines, without mixture or stum, be all fine. Or call up the master, and break his dull noddle. 11 Let no sober bigot here thmk it a sin To push on the chirping and moderate bottle. T/et no scent offensive the chamber infest, 12 Let the contests be rather of books than of wme ; Let fancy, not cost prepare all our dishes, 13 Let the company neither be noisy nor mule ; Let the caterer mind the taste of each guest, 14 Let none of things serious, much less of diviu»». And the cook in his dressing comply with their wishes. When belly and head's full, profanely dispute. . THE ATHEN^L'M 123 it Let no sancy fiddler presume to intrude, 20 Let argument bear no unmusica* sound. Unless he is sent for to vary our bliss. Nor jars interpose sacred friendship to grieve ; 16 With mirth, wit, and dancing, and singing conclude, 2 1 For generous lovers let a comer be found. To regale every sense, with delight in excess. Where they in soft sighs may their passions relieve. n Let raillery be without malice or heat ; 22 Whoever shall publish what's said, or what's done, 1 8 Dull poems to read let none privilege take ; 23 Be he banished for ever our assembly divine ; 19 Let no poetaster command or entreat 24 Let the freedom we take be perverted by none. Another extempore verses to make. To make any guilty by drinking good wine.» This was succeeded by the famous King's Head Club, which was held over against the Inner Temple Gate, in a sort of "carrefour" at the end of Chancery-lane, and is mentioned by Tate, " 'VMio rhimed below e'en David's Psalms translated," in his continuation of Absalom and Ahithophel ; of which the wit is Dryden's and the dullness his own. But the early part of the last century was the Augustan period of Clubs, literary and political. Then every Mecagnas fed his penegyrists, and bards dined at the expense of their creditors. Then flourished principally "the Brothers" Club, numbering among its members, Harley, Bolingbroke, and Swift. " The Scrib- lerus," comprising Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot ; and the " October Club," which met at the Bell Tavern, in King-street, Westminster, for the purpose, as it has been called in our day, of making a clean sweep of the Whigs from all places of power. It was to this Society that Swift, to reclaim its receding junto, addressed " Some Advice to the October Club," &c., 1711-12. There was also the Hanoverians, the purpose of which is sufficiently indicated by its name. The first Beef-Steak Club, according to the article Club (Penny Encyclopaedia), had for its President, Mrs. Woffington, the actress, and Richard Estcourt, wearing, as his badge of high official dignity, a Gridiron of Gold, for its provisor. The Kit- Cat is better known than many ; it was established when the Bishops were sent to the Tower, flourished principally during the reign of Queen Anne, and died of a slow decline, 1730. In 1735, the second Beef-steak Club, which still exists, was established. It was at the time when the celebrated Rich was engaged in the mechanism of the Pantomime to be produced at Covent Garden. His atelier was then as much fre- quented as Canova's or Chantrey's of late years, at once to witness his mechanical ingenuity, and to enjoy his strain of facetious remark. Amongst others. Lord Peter- borough was admitted, and accident having detained the Earl's coach later than usual, he found Rich's chit-chat so agreeable -that he was quite imconscious of the lateness of the hour ; when he observed his companion spreading a cloth, coaxing his fire into a clear culinary flame, and proceeding, with the intense interest of Mons. Ude, to cook his own beef-steak, on his own gridiron. Rich invited his lordship to the repast ; it was accepted, some good wine was sent for, and the wealthy peer, and the nch commoner were so pleased with the entertainment, that on the Saturday following, • Ben Jonson's Works GiiFord, Vol. IX l^i ijOnbok interiors. his lordship introduced some more " men of wit and pleasure about town ;" among whom it was finally resolved a Saturday's Club should be held during the winter peason. The original Gridiron was enshrined as the "decus et tutamem" of the . Club, and Shakspere's genius has supplied the rule and receipt for the Apician preparation of the beef-steak feast : " If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly." From that hour this Club has comprised within it men the most eminent by rank, abilities, good qualities, and social powers ; and it would be difficult to parallel its history in the annals of Club-life. In 1764, tiie Literary Club was founded, which consisted of Johnson, Boswell, Burke, Reynolds, Goldsmith, and other eminent men. It flourished at the same time with the " Essex Club," and preceded the King of Clubs, which met for the first time about 1801, at the Crown and Anchor, in the Strand. Its founder was Bobus Smith, the coadjutor of Canning in the Microcosm. Politics were excluded; and the social enjoyments were promoted and enlarged by Smith, Eichard Sharpe, the first of the nobles of the King of Clubs, by Tweddle, Macintosh, Scarlett afterwards Lord Abinger, Samuel Rogers, John Allen, M. Dumont, the Abbe de Lisle, and others ; such as Wishart, Charles Butler, Lord Erskine, and occasionally Curran. From this enumeration of the Clubs existing about the commencement of the present century, our readers will readily perceive how greatly they differed, both in constitution and purpose, from the modern large subscription houses so called, and which are to be compared to their predecessors only in so far as every member must be balloted for, or be chosen by the consent of the rest. Prior to 1824 there was only one Institution particularly devoted for the association of Authors, Literary men. Members of Parliament, and promoters generally of the Fine Arts. All other establish- ments were more or less exclusive, comprising gentlemen who sunned themselves at the windows of White's, or the Members of Counties, who darkened the doors at Brookes's. They were either dedicated to the Guards, or established for that class ; so uncertain and so incapable of being reduced to an intelligible definition, " men of wit and pleasure about town." It is true the Royal Society held at intervals convivial meetings amon >st its members ; and similarly the College of Physicians might asso- ciate together in Newgate Street, beneath the gilded glories of their own more appro- priate " Pill Box ;" but there was no Club where individuals known for their scientific or literary attainments, artists of eminence in any class of the Fine Arts, and noblemen and gentlemen distinguished as liberal patrons of Science, Literature, and the Arts, could unite in friendly and encouraging intercourse. Professional men, and those who followed the several professions of Law, Literature, or Science, were forced therefore THE ATHEN^UM. 125 either to meet at Taverns, or to be confined exclusively to the society of their parti- cular vocations. To remedy this, on the 16th of February, 1824, a meeting, comprising Sir Humphry Davy, the Rt. Hon. John Wilson Croker, Sir Francis Chantrey, Richard Heber, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Dr. Thomas Young, Lord Dover, Davies Gilbert, the Earl of Aberdeen, Sir Henry Halford, Sir Walter Scott, Joseph JekyU, Thomas Moore, Charles Hatchett, &c. &c., was held at the apartments of the Royal Society, at which also the present eminent Professor Faraday assisted as secretary, and it was agreed to found a Club to be called " The Society ;" subsequently, "The Athenjbum." " Cognita res meritam vati per Achaidas urbes, Attulerat famam ; nomen que erat auguris ingens." " The Society" first met in the house now occupied by the Clarence Club ; but in 1830 the present mansion, built from the designs of Decimus Burton, Esq., at a cost of forty-five thousand poimds, was opened to the members. The following may be considered as a general description of the interior, and may serve to explain to our readers the usual arrangements of establishments of this kind. You enter a handsome hall, supported by eight white scagliola pillars, and ornamented by casts from the Milo and Samson of Lough ; on the left is a spacious Dining Room — " Where late and early M. P.'s toil ' To move the roast' ' Divide* the boil, Or make the Wine the ' Question :'" and on the right a lofty " morning room," where all the English and Foreign news- papers of any interest are supplied. A flight of 46 stairs conducts you to a gallery on which are placed casts of the *' Belvidere Apollo," the " Grecian Archer," by George Rennie, and the " Muses," and " Eve at the Fountain," of E. H. Baily, R. A. From this you enter the Library, now containing 18,000 volumes, comprising the most rare and valuable works in every department, and upon which a very considerable sum, under the guidance of the most eminent men in Literature and Science, is still annually expended. The Drawing Room, extending the entire length of the building, and opening into two other well-proportioned rooms, comprises, with the Library, apart- ments excelled perhaps in extent by other Clubs, but certainly not exceeded by any m architectural good taste. No attempts are here exhibited to produce effect, by minuteness of detail, or splendour of decorative ornament; it is the grand, massive, chaste, and severely simple outline, the unity and the harmony of the design, that gives form and character to breadth and space, and impresses, by its natural grandeur, the mind of the spectator. It is the peculiar characteristic of buildings of this description never to pall upon the mind; meretricious ornament, like mere beauty, soon satiates the sense, and is as minuteness of detiil in poetry, or metaphors in speech, 126 LONDON INTERIORS. —we see, we hear, and we admire ; but are satisfied at once, and return no more to the original source of momentary gratification. ^ If it be asked what are the moral results attending institutions of this kind, we reply, they are incidental rather than direct, but they are very great. A club is an excellent school of manners, a severe discipline of the temper : no man of ordinary feeling can fail to be impressed by the bland and high bred courtesy of the true patrician, or do less than profit by the cultivated excellence of general conversation. It may be considered in some respects as like the grave, where the rich and the poor meet, and the mighty and the powerless are blended together : but this very diversity of caste and mind tends to the improvement of all ; every one forms to himself an example ; dulness finds its level ; ability is acknowledged — the truly great mind is respected : and no morsel of pure moist ' Muscovado is so readily dissolved in water as the pompous gentleman, great by virtue of his ancestry, and his lofty opinion of his own good qualities. The leading purpose of the Athenaeum is maintained by two stringent rules (articler 2 and 13), em- powering the Committee to elect a certain number (but which seldom exceeds /our) of persons of distinguished eminence in Science, Literature, or the Arts; and without ballot " Princes of the Blood Royal," Cabinet Ministers, and Bishops, foreigners of eminent literary abilities, (^these last as honorary) members of the Club ; the full num- ber of which may be stated at 1250. It is not to be presumed that institutions of this kind can in every case fulfil their mission ; but all government consists in the power of opinion ; and that which governs states must infiuence the individual ; and in a society so constituted as this, that influence must be beneficial. Great objection has been made to the magnificence and luxury of these associations, as tending to promote habits of extravagance in the young ; but habits of this kind are contracted not so much by what we see, as how we think ; an ill-regulated mind is extravagant between the pawnbroker and a garret. The size of the rooms is a necessity ; the Hall of the Athenaeum is the " Exchange" of the members ; and a long extensive apartment is the only protection against the person who is eloquent upon afiairs, either Foreign or Domestic, the member who sleeps and snores, the man descended from John de Boreham, or the victim afficted with the complaint called the " Grumbler." Yet upon a cautious and general review of domestic life, none can doubt but a more general amenity of manners, greater forbearance, and condescension ; in fine, a more uni- versal civihzation has taken place ; and to this Clubs have greatly contributed, by their silent power and influence upon the origin and formation of opinions. J2T BARBER SURGEONS' HALL. MoNKWELL Street is a small street in the neighbourhood of Falcon Square. On its left hand side, half way down the street, a quaint, circular piece of carved wood work projects boldly like a porch-head, from the wall, over a large wooden gate. The arms of a Company, finely cut, in large proportions, figure in its centre. Three razors, with open blades, stand out menacingly from the shield, and beneath them a huge staring head, with the expression of a poor fellow writhing under the hands of an unskilful operator. The connection between the razors and the "rueful visage" becomes at once strongly indicative of the times when razors were in requisition at every hour of the day for all kinds of disorders, and barbers and surgeons lived, like so many leeches, on the purple tide of life. You become anxious to know what Company claims these primitive lances for their arms. The beadle at the gate* informs you, that they have been for centuries past the professional symbols of the Barber Surgeons. We will now follow the beadle to view the interior. Passing through the door and a low square passage, we enter a paved court, and command a front view of the build- ing. This is not distinguished by any great beauty. It is built of brick, with long, round-headed, and square windows intermingled. The doors open by a small vesti- bule into the Hall, which is only used twice a year, when the whole body assemble to dine together. The Hall, discoloured by damp, and loaded with dust, presents a very cheerless, cobwebbed appearance. The upper portion, however, deserves a more honoured notice. It forms a raised dais, and is paved with marble in chequer work. The portion thus paved is of a curious semi-circular shape, and to the antiquary presents additional recommendations to his notice, from the valuable fact of its being built upon one of the very bastions (or bulwarks, as they are called in the old writings of the Company,) of the old Roman wall, which at this particular spot is entirely per- fect. From the Hall we pass into the Court-Room, which is the scene of our engraving. This room we can safely pronounce to be the most comfortable, the most elegant, the most home-looking, of all the civic rooms in London. At night-time, when there is a fire crackling in its roomy grate, and the chandelier is lighted up, and the members are seated in friendly intercourse around the table, with their silver goblets filled 128 LONDON ISTERIOK^J. before them — the air of comfort that reigns over the scene must tend in no small degree to cement the Company in union together. Iniffo Jones designed the harmonious proportions and exquisite decorations of the room. Kindred spirits, too, have enriched its walls. Vandyke has contributed a por- trait of Inigo Jones; Sir Peter Leiy, the well-knovpn Countess of Richmond. But the great charm of the room — the dearly-cherished treasure of the Society — their pride and ornament — ^their vaunted boast and sure treasury — is the picture which faces the fire-place, and which is worshipped by all connoisseurs as the master-piece of its great artist. It attracts strangers, far and wide, to pay respect to its singular beauty ; and foreigners have been known to linger in the room for hours together — regardless of entreaties or threats — unable to leave a spot on which Titian himself might have paused in admiration. Sums large enough to found a charity have been at times offered for this invaluable picture, and offers from royalty have more than once perplexed the Company how to answer them ; but the picture has never been removed from the Hall it has consecrated for two centuries. It was painted to commemorate the xmion of the Barbers' Company with the Surgeons' in 1541, and is known as the Holbein, par excellence, being considered the greatest of that great painter's undoubted English works. It is celebrated for the harmony of its colours, the minute fidelity of its details, and the wonderful individuality of its expression. In the centre is Henry the Eighth, in gorgeous apparel, presenting the Company with its Charter. The gold brocade and ermine, the rufiles and rings, are all accurately distinguished ; as also the Brussels car- pet beneath the monarch's feet. There are seventeen portraits introduced besides of members of the Company, each one of which is mentally characteristic. Amongst these figures, kneeling before the monarch in their fur-trimmed gowns, the three that are on King Henry's right, represent Alsop, Butts, and Chambre. The latter was Henry's own physician, and, according to a custom then prevalent, held ecclesiastical prefer- ments; he was dean of the royal chapel and college adjoining Westminster Abbey. Butts hjis obtained a wider celebrity, for he has been immortalized by Shakspere, who has introduced him, in an incident strictly true to history, in his " Henry VIII." The reader will observe several articles of plate that are lying on the table of our engraving. These are the gifts of different members, and grace the sideboard of the l Court on all imposing occasions. The silver-gilt cup with little silver bells was presented to the Company by Henry VIII. ; another cup, with pendant acorns, was [ presented by Charles II. ; the large bowl was given by Gueen Anne; besides many other ! costly articles. The Barbers and Surgeons of this Company were permanently disunited in 1745j when the brilliant discovery was at last recognised, that there was no real connexion ■ between shaving the head, and mending a fractured skull. The seceding professors '■ were in 1745 erected fiy charter into the present Royal College of Surgeons. I I ?!a.lii;hH. far tho IViipnclor. by .T.Mcijyl .ICy, Grai.li S'-fiarc, R«1 £ las HUNTERIAN MUSEUM: ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS The importance of Museums would appear to be very generally appreciated, for we find them objects of much attention in all the capitals of Europe. Our own maternal establishment, the British Museum, we are glad to see assuming a new and more magnificent form, and daily increasing in value and interest. The Hunterian collection, which forms the subject of our present paper, yielding of course in point of extent and splendour to the British Museum, has, however, the great merit of usefulness. It is, as it were, a treasury of experience — a store-house of facts in a visible and palpable form ; to which the young medical student may resort to increase, and the old one to refresh, his knowledge. The collection was made at enormous cost, and was the labour of a life — but it was a labour of love, reflecting the highest honour on the perseverance. >" well as the philanthropy of the collector. John Hunter was born at Long Calderwood, near Glasgow, in the year 1728 ; and we find him, at the age of eighteen, employed in the shop of a cabinet maker, at Glas- gow. His brother, William Hunter, having acquired much celebrity as an anatomical lecturer, John was tempted to change the theatre of his exertions, and became an assistant to his brother. He served at the hospital of Chelsea for two years, and afterwards at St. Bartholomew's. The severity of his studies at length began to tell upon his health, , and with a view to the advantages of a milder climate, he went abroad as staff surgeon. From this period he found constant and ever varying recreation in the study of natural history, and the collection of those unrivalled specimens which constitute the use- fulness and glory of his Museum. The growth of a feather, the germination of a seed the incubation of an egg, were subjects which shared his comprehensive illustration, equally vdth those higher investigations which demonstrate not the forms, merely, bul the relations of the great organic families of creation. The wonders of a buried world, the plants and animals of distinct races, were also industriously collected by him, and arranged according to their apparent order. His more serious studies were occupied in the preparation of models and dissections to illustrate functional and morbid anatomy. In the year 1768, he was made second Surgeon to St. George's Hospital. Pupils and visi- tors crowded upon him, and the Museum, to which he made all tributary, made astonishing progress ; its objects being the illustration of natural history, comparative 130 LONDON INTERIORS. anatomy, physiology and pathology. In the year 1773, symptoms of a disease of the heart occurred, which increased till the year 1792, when, being engaged in some altercation at St. George's Hospital, a direct contradiction of one of his assertions was given, and he retired to another room to calm his emotions, and there fell a^corpse.in the arms of Dr. Robertson. He married, in 1771, the daughter of Everard Home, and had two sons and two daughters. History, says some great author, is yet to be written, and so, it would seem, is biography, since one man contradicts what another advances ; and in the case of John Hunter, we are called upon to hear the alterum partem. We have before us an octavo volume, purporting to be the life of John Himter, by Jesse Foot, Surgeon, consisting of some three hundred pages, of which about a score may be said to give some particulars of his history, and the remainder is a tissue of vituperation. The book bears the date of 1794, so that poor John Hunter was scarcely in his grave, before his biographer began to mangle his remains. Whatever effect the book may have produced at the time, it has passed away, like the breath from a mirror, and left the name and fame of John Hunter brighter than ever. We have, however, to thank Mr. Foot for a few characteristic n otices ; take the following : Speaking of Hunter's house, at Earl's Court, he says, the lawn at the back of the house " was stocked with fowls and animals of the strangest selection in nature. In front, were four figures in lead or stone, representing lions," and over the front door was the mouth of a crocodile, "gaping tremendously wide." "Here it was," our author adds, "that he pastured those buffaloes which he so lately as 1792 trotted through the streets of London." Lady S , says the same authority, presented him with a Girafie, or as Foot calls it, a " Camela Per da (sic in orig) the tallest animal known.* Hunter, " in order that it might be in sight," cut off it legs and fixed it in the passage. But we must take our friend Foot, cum grano, the spirit in which he wrote, being very manifest in his remarks on the Museum of Preparations — '* It answered two purposes — to demonstrated out of it to his pupils, and show to those, who admired most what they least understood." Of the Museum itself, it is said, that in the state in which Hunter left it, it con- tained 10,000 preparations, the collection of which cost 70,000. The apartment assigned to it in the College of Surgeons is a magnificent place, 91 feet long, (about a third of the length of the King's Library in the British Museum), 39 feet broad, ani 35 feet high. The Museum also extends into a smaller apartment, but of the same height, communicating with the great room, both on the basement floor and in the galleries. The walls exhibit three divisions or stories, the first consists of glass cases, the next above of a gallery with open shelves, containing preparations in glass vessels ; and above this is another gallery ; while extending from one end of the apartment to the other, are HUNTERIA.N MUSEUM. 131 two ranges of glass cases. The collection was purchased by the College, of John Hunter's widow, for £15,000. It thenc ontained nearly 1000 skeletons ; 3000 objects of natural history ; 2500 specimens illustrative of pathology. The arrangement adopted by Hunter is strictly and reverently preserved, and every article which belonged to him is care- fully distinguished from subsequent additions made by the College, which, it is said, ex- pended £3000 in the last year alone in the collection. Among the objects most calculated to arrest the attention of the casual visitor, are the skeleton of the Megatherium ; another of the Hippopotamus, the supposed Behemoth; the skeleton of Charles Byrne — commonly and better known as O'Brien, the Irish giant, who measured eight feet four inches, when dead. In juxta-position and strange contrast to this, is a skeleton of a Sicilian dwarf — a girl ten years old, measuring twenty inches in height. Here also is the skeleton of poor Chuny — a specimen of the largest quadruped, the oriental elephant, measuring twelve feet four inches in the highest part. A Giraffe is on one side of Chuny, and a Camel on the other. But by far the most curious and interesting object of this character in the Museimi, is the skeleton of an extinct animal, the gigantic sloth, Mylodon robustus, which was dug up at Buenos Ayres, in 1841. It is disposed in the act of climbing the branch of a tree, and some idea may be formed of its dimensions, when we state, that its limbs, and every part except the head, were three times the thickness of those of the hippopotamus that stands beside it. The tail measures a full yard. On the other side of the Museum is a specimen of another extinct animal — the gigantic Armadillo — Glyptodon clavipes. It is very curious and interesting, and of immense size. It was also dug up at Buenos Ayres, in 1841. Among curiosities of another kind, are several mummies — one of them, that of the wife of the celebrated Van Butchell, whom we well remember, in our boyhood, riding about in the neighbourhood of Hyde Park, mounted on a poney, and whose common rejoinder to the remarks passed on his long beard, was, that "his Creator knew where to put hair." There is also here an rmopened Egyptian mummy, supposed to be of very high antiquity. In various parts of the Museum are placed copies of an immense catalogue, bound for public convenience in three quarto volumes. In these books every specimen is numbered and described, and its illustrative value and scientific bearings briefly narrated ; by this arrangement students and visitors are enabled to use every minute of their time to the greatest advantage. The whole series is abundantly illustrated by nighly finished plates, drawn by the celebrated microscopic draughtsman, Francesco Bauer. We carried with us, on our visit, an unprofessional horror of the place, which we imagined we should find only a well arranged bone-house, but we were agreeably vmdeceived. It is a microcosm of physical knowledge; and its exhibitions are so arranged as to serve the purposes of science, without being in any way revolting to the 132 LONDON INTERIORS. taste. The human skeletons, with the exception we think of only those of Byrne and the Sicilian dwarf, are stowed away unobtrusively, but, like modest merit, may be found of those who look for them. Strangers may obtain admission to this famous Museum, by application to Professor Owen, or the assistant Curator for the day. Dignitaries of the Church, Members ot Parliament, Officers of State, and of the Army and Navy, members of learned and sdentific societies, &c., have all not only the privilege of personally visiting the Museum, but of introducing their friends. The fair sex, however, are rigidly excluded; this regulation originates ostensibly in motives of delicacy, but it is obviously ill-founded, illiberal, and injurious in its operation. . , . :. .;„■ , ■ G.i/^/jry7J '. '4w/, y'}^/\/,^-(/////,'Z////^r- 1S3 NELSON'S TOMB-CRYPT OF ST. PAUL'S. We suspect that if there be any of our readers, who have not descended into the Crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral, they will scarcely choose a winter's day for their visit, for they may take it upon our authority, and non inexperti loquimur — the enthusiasm which the adjacent ashes of warriors and painters may be supposed to enkindle, will scarcely keep them warm. If there be any architectural beauty in this Crypt — such as we have read of elsewhere — there was not light enough for us to see it ; but the idea {t conveyed to us, was simply that of enormous strength and solidity — such as would in fact be necessary to support the immense superincumbent weight. The descent into the Crypt, is by a door in the nave at the western angle of the southern transept. In the south aisleof the Crypt is the tomb of the architect, Sir Christopher Wren, nearly under the high altar, it is supposed, of the ancient Cathedral. Near to the spot are the remains of Bishop Newton, Dean of St. Paul's, and adjoining, those of Barry, Opie, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and West. In the recess of a window, in the same aisle, lie the ashes of Robert Mylne, who was for several years the architect to the building. He it was who designed and carried out the bridge across the Thames, at Blackfriars, which for grace and elegance bears away the palm from subsequent struc- tures of the kind, in however great a degree the latter may excel in massiveness and durability. Under the centre aisle are desposited the remains of Lord Chan- cellor Rosslyn, Dr. Boyce, the celebrated musician; Dr. Taylor, Chancellor of the Cathedral, and last, though certainly not the least in our list, Thomas Newton, whose munificent bequest to the Incorporated Society for the management and distribution of the Literary Fund, has in so great a degree contributed to give eflBciency and per- manency to that excellent Institution. In an odd comer, into which you ascend by a ladder of some two or three steps, are sundry effigies, some of them greatly mutilated, which belonged to monuments in the ancient fabric. Among these is Dr. Donne, in his shroud ; Sir Nicholas Bacon, in ponderous armour ; Sir John Wholly and his lady ; Lord chancellor Hatton ; Sir Thomas Heneage ; Sir William Cockayne ; and part of the bust of Dean Colet, the founder of St. Paul's grammar school. But the grand object of our pilgrimage — for the sake of which we hope to be par- doned if we have stridden hastily over much venerable dust by the way — was Nelson's Tomb, of the general appearance of which the accompanying plate will give a better idea than any we can convey in words. It is immediately under the cir- cular grating, which the reader wiil observe as he stands beneath the dome. It is 134 LONDON INTERIORS. separated from the rest of the Crypt by a high iron palisading, through which the visitor passes by a gate. The space is surrounded by a series of eight stone pillars, which present the appearance of a small temple. In the centre is the tomb. The body of the illustrious hero is inclosed in the stone work which forms the base of , the tomb. The sarcophagus above was made by order of the haughtiest favourite of the haughtiest of monarchs. Cardinal Wolsey, who designed it for his own remains in the Chapel of St. George at Windsor. His disgrace, however, intervened, and before his death, Henry laid hands on the sarcophagus, which remained at Windsor until the time of George the Third, who caused it to be transferred to the tomb, of Nelson. Certainly, if to have his tomb so surmounted be any distinction, Nelson deserved it ; but we confess, we cannot see the propriety of the adoption ; nor is the incongruity in any degree mitigated by placing Nelson's Coronet on the sarcophagus of Wolsey. Again, a sarcophagus, if we have not forgotten our Greek, is intended to contain the actual body of the defunct, and here we have the anomaly of an empty sarcophagus being placed over an occupied one — for the basement answers the purpose of a sarco- phagus — nay, it is one. This is an odd association, of what children call the *' make believe" and the " real earnest." That such an absurdity, as well as the common use of urns, should obtain in a church-yard, is not to be marvelled at, but one would think that in the case before us, the proprieties would be observed. Every public event in the life of Nelson must be so familiar to all Englishmen, that it would be idle to recount them ; but a few particulars of his funeral may not be unaccep- table. Such a scene was never before witnessed in England ; and distant — far distant be the day on which we shall behold another ! The coffin containing the remains of the illus- trious hero was conveyed on a funeral car, or open hearse, decorated with carved models <3f the head and stern of the Victory, surrounded by escutcheons of the arms of the de- ceased, and adorned with appropriate mottos and emblems. Above was a canopy, in the form of the top of an ancient sarcophagus, with six sable plumes, and the coronet of a viscount in the centre, supported by four columns, representing palm trees entwined with wreaths of laurel and arbor vitse. This car was drawn by six led horses, their caparisons being adorned by armorial emblems. The black velvet pall bearing six escutcheons of the arms of the hero, and the six bannerols of his lineage, had been removed, in order to give an unobstructed view of the coffin. The funeral was attended by the Prince of Wales, the Dukes of York, Clarence, Kent, Cumberland, Sussex, and Cambridge, by nobility of all grades, ministers of state, prelates, distin- guished naval and military officers, &c. &c., while among the humble, but not less sincere mourners, were forty-eight pensioners of Greenwich Hospital, and the like number of seamen and mariners of the Victory. The imposing and solemn effect was enhanced by all that military and heraldic display could add to such a procession. When nelson's tomb IS'5 the coffin was removed fiom the car, the canopy was supported by six admirals, and the pall by four. The interior of the Cathedral was fitted up with seats for the accommodation oi those who thronged to witnes? the ceremony. As the solemn service proceeded, evening drew on, and the general effect was greatly heightened by the introduction of artificial light ; a vast number of torches, by an excellent previous arrangement, were simulta- neously lighted up in the choir, both below and in the galleries ; while the east space imder the dome was illuminated by a kind of lantern, lowered by a rope and furnished with 130 patent lamps, an ingenious contrivance by Mr. Wyatt. To the touching pathos of the burial service of the church, was added the solemn effect of music. By means of invisible machinery, a bier was raised to the aperture under the dome, and received the coffin. Garter King at Arms then proclaimed the style, &c. as usual, and the comptroller, steward and treasurer, of the deceased, now broke their staves and gave the fragments to Garter, who threw them into the grave, in which also the flags of the Victory, being first furled up by the sailors, were also deposited. The sailors, who had borne them into the church, naturally desirous of some memorial of their gallant and beloved commander, contrived each to detach a small portion of the largest flag. Fragments of the funeral decorations are preserved as objects of national interest in the United Service Museum. We know not that we can more appropriately illustrate our subject than by a quotation from an eloquent author.* " From 1798 France was in the hands of Napolean. His sagacity saw that England was the true barrier against universal conquest, and that the battle must be fought on the seas. He forced the whole naval strength 'of Europe against her. A man was now raised up, whose achievements threw all earlier fame into the shade. Nelson instantly transcended the noblest rivalry, in a profession of proverbial talent and hero- ism. His valour and his genius were meteor-like — they rose above all, and threw a splendour upon all. His name was synonymous with victory. He was the guiding star of the fleets of England. Each of his battles would have been a title to immortahty ; but his last exploit, in which the mere terror of his name drove the enemy's fleet before him through half tlie world, to be annihilated at Trafalgar, had no parallel in the history of arms. Nelson, too, formed a class by himself. Emulation has never approached him. He swept the enemy's last ship from the sea, and like his two mighty compatriots + having done his work of glory, he died." Nelson is dead, and he has been followed to the tomb by many a gallant chief to whom his name was a watch-word ; and we have heard much vapouring abroad, and £ome unworthy croaking at home, about the dechne of the British Navy, while we were •Croly. t Pitt and Burke. 136 LONDON INTERIORS. edified by accounts of the wonderfully increasing superiority of the navies of our neighbours. The cannonading at Acre has either deafened our ears, or silenced the boasters abroad, and the croakers at home. We now hear nothing to the contrary of what we have all along mantained, that the courage and discipline of the British Navy are what they ever were, and we believe ever will be ; while in the scientific branch of its efficiency, it is so much improved that, as a naval officer remarked to us the other day, " we could throw a ship's broad-side into a parlour grate.'' 187 MADAME TUSSAUD'S EXHIBITION OF WAX-WORK. " Wax- WORK !" It is a name which associates itself with the happiest days of child- hood. The blooming cheeks, the kindling eyes, the gallant bearing of its mimic heroes, have ever filled yoimg hearts with surprise and dehght, and "stolen the spectators from themselves." Now, impressions conveyed to the mind in this vivid manner, become permanently fixed in the memory, and in after years are foimd very materially to influence the imagination. The grace and benignity which we associate with the idea of a queen — "Her highest happiness, to bless her people," — the behests of the military commander, the prowess of the giant, the tyranny of the Turk, the grimness of the murderer, the grotesqueness of the monster, are characteristics which may ordinarily be traced to the inefiaceable impressions received at the waxen exhibitions of the country fair, or from their better dressed, " large as life" associates of the London sights. Hence it is, that with both old and young, wise and simple, "wax- works" have become universal favourites. Madame Tussaud has built her fortunes upon these common sympathies : to the little folks she has given "wonders;" to the star-gazing countrymen glories of scarlet, and glories of gold ; to the historian, portraits of the great political actors of modern Europe. Sixty thousand pounds are said to have been expended by her in the preparation of models, and the purchase of wardrobes and decorations. But large as this sum is, we may assert it to have been profitably invested ; for, in catering for a common appetite, she has not, with the evil forttme of most speculators, " reckoned beyond her host." Thousands crowd her rooms ; princes, merchants, priests, scholars, peasants, school-boys, babies, in one common medley ; and her success has consequently been commensurate with the boldness of her undertaking. Visitors entering the estabUshment from Baker-street pass through a small haU, tastefully " set out" with casts from the antique, and the best modem sculptures, and pro- ceed by a wide staircase to a saloon at its summit, which is richly decorated by a radiant combination of arabesques, artificial flowers, and mirrored embellishments. Here, at a small table, sits an aged lady, who solicits the admission fee with an accent which at once 138 LONDON INTERIORS. proclaims her Gallic origin. She possesses a small and delicate person, neat and well- developed features ; eyes, apparently superior to the use of a pair of lazy spectacles, which enjoy a graceful sinecure upon her nose's tip. Line upon line, faintly hut clearly drawn, display upon her forehead aU the parallels of hfe. Her manner is easy and self-possessed, and were she motionless, you would take her to be a piece of wax-work ; a dame of other days. This is Madame Tussaud : a lady, who is in herself an exhibition. She was born at Berne in Switzerland, in 1760, about two months after the death of her father ; and at six years of age, was adopted into the family of her uncle, M. Curtius, the celebrated wax-modeller of Paris. Here she became acquainted with La Fayette, Mirabeau, Voltaire, and most of the choice spirits of the Revolution. In 1787 her talents recommended her to the notice and employment of the Princess Elizabeth, sister to Louis XVL, who gave her a residence in the palace of Versailles, where she executed many works at the command of the king and the royal family. After the death of her patrons, during the reign of terror, she was exposed to frequent perils of her life ; but in the midst of anarchy her genius preserved her. The repubhcan authorities, vain as they were ferocious, could not afford to lose her services as state model- ler; and thus, as weU as by her great prudence, she was spared to take casts from the heads, living or dead, of most of her savage Judges. In 1806 she came to England, and opened an exliibition of her works in one of our country towns. With these she afterwards travelled the length and breadth of the land. In 1833 she came to London, and founded her present ** unrivalled" exhibition, which may in some sort be considered as a modelled epitome of her life and times. From the saloon, the great room is at once entered. If it be a night exliibition, the excess of light which fills the whole apartment dazzles and delights the spectator. The French are said to be masters of artificial light ; their shops, cafes, theatres, saloons, are, from the number, distribution, and brilliancy of their lamps, almost shadowless. Madame Tussaud has adopted their principles. The exhibition is illuminated by nearly five hundred "burners," disposed in small clusters, and so arranged, that while they perfectly exhibit particular groups of figures, diffuse, at the same time, a clear, steady, and equal light. Lamps grouped in the manner of state chandehers, would have had in themselves a more gorgeous effect, but the fight woxild, with the same number of burners, have been much less. This great room is about one hundred feet in length by fifty in width, and of a pro- portionable height. Its walls are panelled with plate glass, and richly decorated with draperies and burnished gilt ornaments in the Louis Quatorze style. The principal statues and groups are placed round the four sides, and the larger scenic combinations of figures in the centre of the room. At the east end, once the principal entrance, is an orchestra, in which, during the evening exhibitions, appropriate music is performed. In various convenient places and eligible points of view, covered seats and ottomons are proviued. MADAME TUSSAUD's EXVxIillTION OF WAX-WORK. 189 At the western end of the room is a little " golden chamber," for the exhibition of George IV. s coronation and state robes. This may be regarded as the " pageant of delight," the focus of the gorgeous spectacle. The attitude and features of the monarch are from the picture painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence to furnish copies to the ambassadors for presen- tation to their several states. He is shown clothed in the royal tunic of the British kings, over which, depending from the shoulders, is the coronation mantle. Beside him, on either hand, arranged trophy-wise, are his parliamentary and imperial mantles. The three robes are said to contain 567 square feet of velvet and embroidery, and with the ermine lining, to have cost £18,000. In front of the king are placed well executed models of the coronation regalia ; and at the back of the apartment, the throne which was built for the reception of the " Alhed Sovereigns" at Carlton House. This part of the room, as it displays a mode of exhibition which we think it very desirable to encourage, we have chosen for the subject of our illustration. The most interesting figures in the exhibition are those which display the costumes of particular nations or tribes, as the renowned Commissioner Lin and his lady ; the "Favourite Mameluke," who is said to have saved the life of Napoleon during his campaign in Egypt; the tiger of the Deccan, TippooSaib; or the prince of the "basest of kingdoms," Mehemet Ali. But those which command the greatest share of popular attention are the " sceptred sovereigns" of our own and adjacent coimtries — Charles 1st, in bright steel armour ; Crom- well in russet brown, Francis the 1st and Henry the 8th, in the " braveries" which illumi- nated the " Field of the Cloth of Gold ;" Queen Elizabeth imbedded — we had almost said, choked with jewellery, and her humbled rival, Mary, of Scotland, attired in sable weeds. These and similar figures exercise a power over humbler visitors, which amoimts to absolute fascination. " Would you not deem it breathed ? and that those veins Did verily bear blood ?" are questions which they would never think of raising, — the illusion is complete, and for a moment they feel themselves to be gazing on the very " mould and frame" of the departed. The wax-work kings that were formerly shown in Westminster Abbey had the same — or even perhaps amore delusive effect on the perceptions of young and simple people ; for there the sacred character of the edifice, and the venerable splendours of its architectural decorations, gave, as it were, the sanction of religious truth to their pretensions. Charles 2nd, in his actual coronation robes, placed at the end of one of the aisles of Henry 7th. 's chapel, was not a thing to be doubted. We are of opinion that the curiosity which was at the root of this love of pictured history might be directed to higher and better purposes, and that for eaucational uses it might be made to illustrate not merely the races of man, but the whol'j natural history of the earth. We remember to have seen in the Manchester Museum, a 140 LONDON INTERIORS. series of models of foreign fruits, leaves, &c., devoted with great success to this important purpose. On leaving the exhibition " Madame" piits your courage to the test, by asking if you would like to see the " Separate Room," — " A gloomy place of rendezvous," where casts of the bleeding ana (tying heaas oi Marat, Robespierre, Carrier, Fouquier, and various horrible relics, are exhibited. But few persons, such is the love of the marveUous, decline the invitation. i 1 Ml DRURY LANE THEATRE. A THEATRE, according to the signification of its original Greek name, is " a place for seeing;" and the arrangements of ancient architects were chiefly directed to the attainment of xmobstructed vision for its numerous frequenters. But modern structures of the kind require additional accommodations. Dramatic entertainments of the present day are so varied in their character, and call for the assistance of so many of the elegant arts, that a building of a very complex nature is demanded. The auditory must be of the form best suited to the dijBusion of musical sounds ; its sittings so arranged as to give every spectator a point of view, free from perspective abridgment or distortion ; its approaches sufficiently large to permit, not only comfortable access to all parts of the house, but safe and instanta- neous egress, in case of fire. The stage must be of a size and proportion adapted to an efiective presentation and prompt withdrawal of its complex scenery, and the preservation under all circumstances of a sufficient space for the clear enactment of its exhibitions. And at the same time it must be so placed in relation to the body of the house, as to secure for the audience the advantages we have already enumerated. Drury Lane Theatre is one which combines these difficult acquirements in the happiest manner. "Old Drury" — ^in its youth the special residence of "her Majesty's servants," was built in 1617, and was then called the " Cockpit." It was in the same year demolished by a riotous mob, but rebuilt in 1658. Killigrew, in 1663, encouraged by the patronage of Charles 2nd, raised a new and more commodious edifice. In 1672 this house was burnt down; but rebuilt by Wren in 1674. During a hundred following years, it underwent a series of enlargements and improvements, till, in 1791, it was pulled down to be rebuilt. On the 24th of February, 1809, this new house was burnt to the ground, — Sheridan, its chief proprietor, sitting meanwhile at the window of an opposite tavern, drinking, to the music of its rending walls, success to the drama and its management. In 1810, a joint stock company was formed by authority of parliament to rebiiild the theatre by subscription. Mr. B. Wyatt was the architect; the first stone was laid on the 29th October, 1811, and the new theatre opened on the 10th October, 1812. It was partly built upon the plan of the great theatre at Bordeaux, supposed to be the best theatre in Europe for the accurate conveyance of musical sound. The general form of this edifice is that of a parallelogram ; its extent from north to 142 LONDON INTERIORS. south being 131 feet, and from east to west 237 feet, independently of the paint'ng and scene rooms which are partially detached, extending 93 feet further eastward. The chief entrance is approached by a flight of steps, protected from the weather by a porch. The entrance hall communicates, eastward, with the rotunda and staircases to the boxes ; and on the north and south, with the pit-lobbies, and from the latter, by circuitoiis passages, with the pit itself. The rotunda and grand staircase form very beautiful portions of the theatre ; and the entire architectural arrangement is, in the opinion of builders and artists, the most skilful and picturesque of modern times. The rotunda, which is thirty feet in diameter, consists of two stories, separated by a circular gallery, and crowned by an elegant dome, from which is suspended a large brass chandeher. In the lower story, fronting the entrance, are three statues, the centre one from RoubUiac's Shakspere, the pedestal inscribed by Ben Jonson's hearty line — " He was not for an age, but for all time." On the left David Garrick with the inscription, " The purpose of playing, both at the First, and now, was, and is, to hold, as '(were The mirror up to Nature." And on the right, Edmimd Kean, with the inscription, " Now-get you to my lady's chamber, And tell her, let her paint an inch thick, To this complexion she must come . '' Four semicircular niches, with as many bronze tripods, break the concave of the walls, and on the right and left are doors leading to the principal staircases, marked respectively, " King's side," " Prince's side." The rotunda consists of a peristyle of eight columns, of the Corinthian order, of Sienna marble, supporting a highly enriched entablature and dome. Both the columns and enta- blature are designed on the model of the grand remains of the temple of Jupiter Stator, in the Campo Vaccino, at Rome. The dome is ornamented by five circles of deeply simk panelling, crowned by a sky light. The saloon stands over the entrance hall, and is a very gorgeous "interior." It is a nobly-proportioned room, 87 feet in length, by 27 feet in breadth ; but the extremities have been formed into semicircular temple-hke recesses. The walls are plated with looking glasses, divided by pilasters, painted in imitation of new marbles, and hung with crimson draperies. Large ottomons, statues of females bearing lamps, three handsome cut glass DRURY LANE THEATRE. 143 lustres, and a splendid refireshment room, complete the decorations and conveniences of tliis elegant "loiinging place." The auditory has a most imposing effect ; it presents to the eye a series of vast sweeps of bright colours, which flow, in graceful curves, to their termination in the proscenium : these, while they captivate the fancy, at once lead if to the spot where it is to receive its greatest enjoyment. This is high decorative art. Looking forward, you are led, as it were, by a jocimd hand, directly to the stage ; or looking upwards, you are with equal taste \ed by delicate gradations from the bright red and browns which ornament the lower boxes, to the blues and more hghtly pencilled embellishments of the ceiling. The credit of these decorations, the design of the proscenium, and the present form of the interior, belong to Mr. S. Beazley, under whose superintendence, during the management of EUiston, the auditory was completely remodelled at an expence of £21,000. In its original state it was circular ; but its present form is nearly that of a horse shoe, 46 feet width at the stage, 52 feet across the centre of the pit, and 48 feet from the front of the stage to the centre dress box. The height from the floor of the pit to the ceiling, 47 feet. This vast area is illimiinated by 27 lustres, and the front of the stage by 116 gas burners. There are three tiers of boxes, two shps, and an upper and lower gallery. The house is calculated to contain — in the dress circle, 234 persons, first circle 196, second circle 480, private boxes 160, family boxes 96, proscenimn boxes 64, shps 130, pit 800, lower gallery 550, upper gallery 350, making a total of 3060 persons. The proscenium being, as it were, the portico of the stage, has less of imitative art in its decoration than the other parts of the house. On each side are two demi-colimins, of the Corinthian order, supporting a rich entablature, a coved ceihng, and, spanning the stage, an elliptical arch, from which descends the " fly curtain," of crimson velvet, em- blazoned with the royal arms. On each side, between the columns, are three private boxes, "sumptuously apparelled." Three drop curtains are used during the intervals of performance. The first, of crimson velvet, displayed previously to the commencement of each play ; the second, a painted drop scene, by Stanfield, in the maimer of Berghem's classic landscapes, used at the end of acts, and the third, the old green curtain, to mark the " last scene of all." The first of these curtains has a very grand appearance, and by its costly and massive character lends an air of great reality to the images and pictures of the scene. The Royal Box is that between the columns, on the left, which ranges with the dress circle : its ante-room is a handsome apartment, surmounted by a dome, supported by four Corinthian columns. In the construction of this building every care has been taken to secure the audience in case of fire. The passages, lobbies, and staircases, are built of stone, and are suffi- ciently capacious to contain the entire number of persons that can, at any one time, be assemDled in the theatre. 144 LONDON INTERIORS. The stage is of great extent, being 96 feet 3 inches from the orchestra to the back wall, and 77 feet 5 inches in width jGrom wall to wall. The depth of the trap, or ghost floor, beneath the stage, 10 teet; the height of the side scenes 21 feet, and the height of the "cloud flats" 21 feet. The manager's room, actresses' dressing rooms, and various other apartments, are on the north side of the stage ; and on the south are the green rooms, the prompter's room, the actors' dressing rooms, and a range of stabling for twenty horses. In the line with the upper flies, over tlie auditory, are the carpenters' shops, gas fitters' rooms, property rooms, and store rooms. The painting room is over the eastern extremity of the stage, and measures 79 feet in length, by 31 feet in height and width. 145 THE REFORM CLUB. It was upon the evening of Tuesday, November 2, 1830, when public opinion was still fermenting with the spirit of the " three glorious days of July," and still discussing the merits of the divorce pronotmced " for richer or poorer, for better or worse," between their Ifigh Mightynesses of Hollaf .nd the *' braves Beiges," that we attendad the opening of the Houses of Parliament, iiiis, which when unaccompanied by the pomp and solenmity observed during the presence of the Sovereign, is apt to be a mere ceremonious affair, bore upon this occasion, a particularly depressing aspect. Every one seemed to feel " the times are out of joint;" — ^the unusual period appointed for the meeting of Parliament, — the rumours of distress and of excitement then prevailing, — the hopes and fears always indulged in upon the commencement of a new reign, — the party spirit that agitated all classes, which shook the Lord Mayor and fulmined o'er the Common Council ; all these causes, more or less, contributed to produce a feeling vague, indefinite, but singularly oppressive. Add to this, the effect upon the spirits of a dull, raw, cold, drizzling Novem- ber day, the fog hanging in murky, smoky, folds over the metropolis, which now suddenly clearing away, then increasing in density, and ever rapidly enveloping the ceaseless tide of human Ufe that hurried towards the Abbey, seemed, like a pestilence, to sweep men from the paths of the living, even as they passed along. The attendance of the Peers was numerous, all seemed to feel, and to be oppressed, either by the density of the atmosphere, their own thoughts, or the state of the country ; and long before the arrival of the Kong, almost even during the ceremonial of the speech from the throne, a low, indistinct sound, as of men in earnest conversation, was heard rising and dying away at intervals, like the low moaning of the wind which foretells the coming storm. We need hardly remind our readers, this was the occasion of the declaration of the King's Government against a Reform BUI, and none who heard it can forget the scene which ensued. Members rushed from the Upper to the Lower House. Groups of Peers lingered in earnest debate, and, as we descended to the street, every man questioned his neighbour, then hastily hurried off, as if on a special embassy, to convey his information to the crowd without, whose loud shouts of defiance were heard, now near, then afar off, as in broken masses it gradually vnthdrew, to prepare for the tumult and party warfare of the coming day. Reader, upon that night the Reform Club was virtually founded, although, chro- nologically speaking, the registration of its birth, and its baptismal promises, belong to a 146 LONDON INTERIORS. more recent period. It -was not indeed until 1836, when Reform, like the popular Deity, , might be said to " rule the camp, the court, the grove," that the desire, long felt, to form a point d 'appui, for its supporters, was first carried into effect, and workmen were seen preparing Dysart House for the reception of the members. This, however, was merely a preliminary step, to form and consolidate the Club, and to make it the nucleus of the party, and nothing more was done until Wednesday, the 13th December, 1838, when a general meeting was held, to consider the designs submitted by Messrs. Blore, Basevi, Cockerell, Sydney Smirke, and Barry, for the proposed new building. The design of the latter, both for elegance and convenience, was preferred ; it offered an elevation in harmony with the Travellers', and although exhibiting a superior grandeur, did not detract from tne architectural importance either of this or the Athenaeum. It occupies a frontage towards the street of about 135 feet, and bears a resemblance to the Palazzo Farnese at Rome, which was designed by Micha'el Angelo, and built by Antonio Sangallo. The entrance, which is in the centre of the bviilding, rises several steps from the ground ; and the exte- rior of this, and of the garden fagade of the Travellers', may be cited as two of the most perfect specimens of Italian architecture in the metropolis. On entering the house, a flight of eight steps from the Porter's Lobby leads you into TH^ SALOON, a spacious quadrangular hall, from whence access is obtained to all the principal rooms. The dimensions of this are 57 by 51 — the total height 54 feet ; and the following may be considered as a general description of its arrangement and decoration. Twenty Ionic columns, surmounted by as many of the Corinthian order, all twenty feet high, placed at a distance of nine feet from the wall, form a spacious colonnade, the interior of which com- prises a tessellated pavement, executed by Mr. Singer, from a design by Mr. Barry, which is based upon the beautiful decorations of the Etruscan Vases, and is in such admirable keeping, with respect to colour, to the walls, &c., of this apartment, that it caimot fail to give an impulse and become an authority for the further introduction of mosaic, as a feature in public buildings. The space thus enclosed is 34 by 28 feet, and at each angle two columns and a square pillar are employed, producing a very desirable fullness of effect, as well as appearance of solidity. From the cornice of the upper colonnade, a spacious vaulted skyUght, flattened in the centre, sheds a rich flood of light over the entire extent ; tliis was executed by Mr. Apsley Pellat, at an expense of £600, and exhibits the most careful consideration in its design. One very pleasing and original circumstance is also to be here remarked, viz : — in the upper and lower colonnade, on the south side, a view is admitted into the Coffee and Drawing Room over it, through the Centre Arcade, which is filled in with plate glass to the level of the chimney piece. By this means increased effect is given to THE KEFORM CLUB. 147 the architectural view, especially at night when brilliantly lighted up. A mirror of similar dimensions occupies also the centre of the western colonnade, reflecting the entrance of the corridor or principal staircase, which is constructed upon a plan unusual in London, though common in Italy, being enclosed, as the flights of about forty-four steps, together with the landings, are shut up between walls, and consequently there is no open well, nor can the whole be seen at one view. But as the principal interest connected with this and the other apartments arises, imdoubtedly, from their mode of decoration, we shall endeavour to present to our readers a correct statement of the means adopted to produce the rich and carefully elaborated results we are now to consider. The whole of the walls, to the height of the impost mouldings and archivaults in the upper and lower orders, are covered with Scaghola, except the panels between the pilasters which are destined for paintings, and also the skirting or plinth, which latter throughout is of marble; that of the lower colonnade being of Galway black, and of the upper of St. Anne's. The Ionic colmnns, as well as the Corinthian, are of Scaghola ; the former an imitation of dark, and the latter of light Sienna ; the capitals and bases of all being of statuary marble. The plinths below the bases of the colimms and pilasters of the upper order resemble Porto Venere, and the mouldings of the pedestals, the dado and balustrade, exhibit a rich outline of Sienna. The same portion of the lower order is executed in Oriental green and Egyptian red granite. The cornice of the quadrangular balustrade, and its base is of real Sienna, the balusters are of Carrara marble. The dies of the pedestals and the dado of the Corinthian pUlars, represent French white blue veined, and the centre panels of the dies Brocatello, the impost pilasters of the lower or Ionic, are in pale Giallo antico, and the margins or spaces between these and the architraves of the doors are in Verde Antico. In the upper order again the impost pilasters, are similar to the dies of the pedestals we have before named, and the margins or spaces between resemble also those of the lower colonnade. The architraves of the doors of the upper order are of the richest Brocatello, those in the lower are in imitation of a bright madder coloured Egyptian porphyry, and the mouldings of the panels below and archivaults are of dark Sienna marble. The clear glass frames are all in imitation of brown porphyry. The walls of the staircase are divided into panels, and upon each landing place large mirrors reflect their extent ; the whole of the mouldings are of Belgian white, and the panels of the dado are alternately of Verde Antico and Thessalian green. Above this. Sienna and Brocatello are blended ; the large Sienna panels being inlaid with the latter, and having also in the centre a lozenge shaped pattern inlaid in imitation of Lapis Lazuli. The sinking behind the rope, or stair rail, is in imitation of Rosso Antico. The stairs are of marble. The richest Axminster carpets are laid down on the square of the corridors and the colonnades, and large mahogany sofas, with h\ onzed bas rehef panels of open work, occupy the spacious niches. It is intended to decorate the spaces between the pilasters with portraits of eminent Reformers ; nor should we omit to mention the rich 148 LONDON INTERIORS. ^oral mouldings of the upper colonnade, and the Fresco paintings inrelief, which repregent Music, Poetry, Painting, and Sculpture, executed by Mr. E. T. Parris. The doors of all the apartments are of oak and maple. From the Saloon we will now conduct our readers round the House. That little room to the right of the entrance, is the Visitors' Waiting Room ; and from thence we proceed to the "Morning Room," or "Parliamentary Library," 23 feet by 59, and 20 feet high. The columns in this apartment represent pale GiaUo antico, with statuary marble capitals and bases ; the book cases, which cover the entire surface of the wall, are of wains- cot, with pilasters of Pollard oak. Above them a very boldly-executed frieze in rehef is carried round the room. The table part of the book-case is of green Genoa marble, and the general effect of the dark blue drapery and furniture is that which a library should convey, viz. : a rich and quiet solidity. The "Coffee Room" next succeeds. This is 117 feet long by 26 feet wide, and 20 feet high. The ceiling, and the architectural grouping of the columns, are planned with so much taste, that, aided by a peculiar division of the furniture, this room forms, in fact, three distinct compartments, without in any manner diminishing the impression of space and grandeur that its dimensions convey. The rich drapery of crimson cloth, hung in the banner style with fringes of the same colour ; the gilt wreaths and cornices, contrast and harmonize well with the light Sienna, of which the colvmins are composed, and add a warm and cheerful tone to the prevailing cold tint employed upon the walls. The floor is of oak, inlaid and polished ; the windows open to the south, and when this room is brilliantly lighted up, the rich hues of the Persian carpets, the snowy whiteness of the table-cloths, and the speaking eloquence of dumb waiters, ghttering with poUshed plate, and rich cut glass, give evidence of that combination of wealth with utihty, the refinement of which is to be expressed only by a word at once original and intensely national, — Comfort. A Cloak and Private Dinner are the other principal rooms upon this floor. Ascend- ing the staircase, we enter from the north side of the Upper Gallery the private Drawing Room. The walls of this elegant apartment are hung with blue silk damask, formed at each end into panels, with gold mouldings very carefully introduced. The ceiling is vaulted, lofty, and highly decorated in gold, and varied shades of blue, &c., introduced into linear and fret- work ornaments. The furniture is of blue Utrecht velvet ; the tables o:' maple, with purple mouldings. No room of this house exhibits probably a more careful consideration of the means, requisite to produce a rich and harmonious effect. The contrasting colours are boldly employed, yet not so as to be violently oppressive to the sight ; and notwithstanding the preponderance of one uniform hue, the effect is modulated and carried off by the varied subordinate tints which are introduced, and these are again pleasingly united and blended by the general tone of the materials employed upon the THE REFORM CLUB. 149 furniture. A Committee Room, and two small apartments succeed, and from these we pass into the Library of General Reference, 28 feet by 59, and 20 feet high. The book- cases here are of hght maple, and cover, as in the former case, the entire extent of the wall : the ceiling is grounded in blue, but marked, as it struck us, with rather a broad R. The carpet is of rich crimson, and the furniture of dark green Utrecht velvet ; yet these colours, which might perhaps produce a heavy effect, are enhvened, not by the employment of gold, silk, hangings, or mouldings ; but mainly by that which, though apparently casual, is, in fact, a very powerful agent, viz., the colour of the wood used for the general furniture of the room. As it is, the effect is both novel and striking, and has been much admired. A bold frieze is carried round the room, and the table of the book-cases is of green Sienna. The Drawing Room is situated upon the south side of the building, and occupies the greater portion of the garden front. It is 117 feet long, by 26 feet wide, and 20 feet high. The columns are of Belgian white scagliola, with statuary marble capitals and bases ; twelve of these, rising in elegant proportions, support a richly-decorated architrave, and floral cornice, and divide the room into three separate compartments ; but so as in no degree to diminish the efiect of breadth and architectural grandeur the apartment is intended to convey. The floor is of oak, inlaid in various ways at the principal entrances from the Saloon ; and the carpet, which is of Scotch manufacture, is in one length, nar- rowed at the doors, of three different patterns, but of uniform colours. The prevailing tone is gold ; the walls being hung in gold and silver satin damask, the curtains are a deep brown, and rich draperies depend from above, and hang in graceful folds t>n all sides of the spacious mirrors which are placed at the east and western ends of the room. The ceiling is elaborately ornamented with gold, employed not, as is most customary, in outlines, or, as it were, in tints ; but covering the entire surface of the ornament, and reheved by cold tones of French white and drab. French white, which is, in fact, the lightest shade of purple, is of all coiours the most delicate and aerial, and is far too seldom used ; for, when blended as it is here, it becomes not only a sufficiently expressive, but an extremely pleasing agent. It can be introduced, however, only where other hues are light and cool, as intense or rich colours completely subdue its influence. The furniture is an instance also how much depends upon the proper consideration of the materials, and their form, in producing a pleasing effect. The tables are of Hght Amboyna carved in the solid, which heretofore has seldom been attempted ; rosewood is also introduced in sofas, &c. &c., but with Utrecht velvet of a peculiar light brown, and the arrangement of these in no way diminishes or destroys the area ; but their colour becomes even an important accessory, and tends to unite the whde in perfect harmony. A few more remarks may be added with respect to the Saloon. It has been objected to this apartment, that the prevailing tone of its decoration is too warm. But it is to be remembered, that although the same general law, in the employment and use of colour, I 150 LONDON INTERIORS. is applicable to architectural as well as imitative works of art, the same effect is not de- signed to be produced, nor are the agents identical. The object of colour combined with architecture is to enliven, without destroying space ; and when positive agents, such as marble, are used for this purpose, effect can be produced only by appropriate contrast, and not by mediate hues, or the various resources of the painter. Again, distance can- not be so well preserved, nor does the area appear so expressive, as when fresco or oU painting is the decorative principle. Criticism must be limited, therefore, to the circle the materials employed prescribe, and it must be exercised by rides strictly apphcable to the peculiarities of the case ; — as the nature of the building, and the general orna- mental character it displays. But we must not ask from marble what marble cannot effect, nor must we also submit it to an unfair test, by its employment without a sufficiency of light. And now, gentle reader, let us descend, not to meaner subjects, but to that which has become truly one of the sights of London ; the pilgrim's shrine of peer, prince, and peasant, remarkable at once for its completeness, admirable arrangement, order, method, and the extensive reputation of its celebrated chef, Mons. Alexis Soyer. THE KITCHEN. We shall follow the details of a well-executed engraving of this department of the Reform Club, as described by its conductor; and, thus guided, commence with LaBoucherie. Here, in a small space, all joints are trimmed for cooking. From thence we proceed to the Meat and Game Larder ; a lofty, well- ventilated room, excellently fitted up with various slate dressers and ice drawers, which, being always maintained at a temperature of 35 to 40 degrees, enables every variety of comestibles to be kept fresh as imported, even for a considerable time. Here herbs and vegetables are sorted and arranged ; and seem, by their very freshness, to reflect the temperature they feel. Thence we enter the Cold Meat and Sauce Larder, fitted up vsdth safes, constructed upon a new self-acting principle. We now approach the part located to an artist whose taste has been frequently cited, as being in some degree professional ; we mean the Confectioner, whose landscapes, glittering with dew, waterfalls which do all but burst upon the ear, whose Gothic castles, and fairy forms, so frequently arrest the sight, ere the materials of which they are formed tempt the palate ; and then, like the vision which betrayed Orlando in the enchanted castle, the landscape, the waterfall, and the palace, fade like the baseless fabric of which they are formed ; and, sweetened by a thousand recollections, "leave not a wreck behind." Every corner exhibits order, method, and division of labour. In this small space, beneath the staircase, near the office of the chef, all the fish required for immediate use reposes ; and, to keep it delicately cool, even in the height of summer, a stream of iced water is gradually at intervals diffused around. A large square board near this is even deserving of attention, as an indi- cation of the system which is adopted. It is lettered from five to eight o'clock, and on thia THE REFORM CLUB. 151 the dinners are set prior to cooking, according to the respective hours for which they are ordered. Thus no confusion or mistake can occur — and every member enjoys the fare his appitite or taste provided. The next is the roasting kitchen : the fire-place, which holds 3 cwt. of coals, is used principally for large joints ; at the back of it is a large boiler, which can be used to heat water for baths, and the general purposes of the house. Deli- cate vegetables are here brought to culinary perfection by French charcoal stoves, and ovens of varying temperature are fixed in difierent places. We must pass over some minor departments to describe the principal kitchen. This is so placed in the centre of opera- tions, that Monsieur Soyer can at once command a full view of all the departments of his office. The fittings of this room deserve the most particiilar attention. In the centre a table is so contrived, that it affords the greatest possible facUity for working with the utmost economy of space. Sliding boards, and moveable cases are attached, which permit the cutting up of many articles without confusion, and the most perfect cleanliness. Hot closets are here also of various degrees of temperature ; and a fire-place holding 2J cwt. of coal is deserving attention for the admirable manner in which it is constructed. The smallest bird to the largest joint, can be cooked by this with much less consumption of fuel, and to far greater perfection than by the ranges generally in use. Around this room are arranged coal stoves for broiling chops, boiling or stewing fish, &c., and all of these are provided with moveable screens, to protect the eyes, and to act as refiectors. Near them is the delivery window ; this is divided into three openings ; and the dresser before it is half lined with heated plates ;— =-it is used for entrees, — joints, and vege- tables, — and service plates ; all of which are sent up from separate departments. The Kit- chen Clerk's desk, and the lift by which dinners are conveyed into the coffee-room, forms the angle near the window. Speaking pipes with bells attached to them, enable the rea- diest communication to be maintained with every part of the house. This may serve to give our readers a general idea of the skilful arrangement of the kitchen of the Reform Club ; but the visitor wiU be more struck by the admirable economy of time and space it indicates throughout. The pillars which support the ceiling are supplied with revolving boxes, in which sauces in general use, herbs and trifling articles are always to be found ; thus nothing is to be sought for, every thing is at hand ; the minute index hand passes not more regularly over the face of the clock than the assistants of Monsieur Soyer revolve around him, the centre planet of their system. Monsieur Soyer is an eleve of the house of Grignon, Rue Vivienne, then and since in much repute for the public banquets they have supplied. From thence he advanced to the Rocher de Cancale, an establishment upon whose merits it is imnecessary to dilate, and per- fecting his skill at the Cafe de Paris, he was appointed at the age of 17, Premier of the Administration, at the Cafe d'Ouix. Here he presided over a sacred band of eight cuisiniers; the youngest, but the chief! imtil the 26th July, 1830, when, assisting at the preparations made by Prince Polignac, for a grand entertainment, to be given upon the 162 LONDON INTERIORS. occasion of the publication of the celebrated Ordonnances, he was surprised by the revo- lution, which burst into the kitchen, represented by a fearful crowd of men of all ranks, hastily armed, who forced the gates of the hotel, massacred many persons, and extended their ravages until all the refined resources of French skill, " toutes ces somptueuses pre- parations furent doublement consommhs par eux!!" They were driven from the palace, and in the jBlight two of his confreres were shot before his eyes, and he himself was nearly Blain, but upon dexterously entonnant "la Marseillaise," and "la Parisienne," he was carried off amid the cheers of the mob. After this, when the "cafards" and the "cafronds" were rewarded, to the neglect of those who had borne ihe burden and the heat of the day M. Soyer composed the air and strain which our Parisian visitors may remember — lit Patriote m§content. C'est tout de m^me embetant Nous avons eu I'mal • Je maronue quand jy pense Eux la recompense : De voir tant de Schnapauts Pour la nation Se faire valoir a nos depens Faites done une revolution ! Before this, and at a subsequent period, he was about to form an engagement to appear upon the French stage, when at the request of his brother, he came to London, and was subsequently engaged at intervals in the mansions of the Dukes of Cambridge, Wellington, Sutherland, Marquesses of Waterford and Ailsa, &c. About this time he was united to one whose early and unfortunate death has been a frequent topic of regret. We mean Miss Emma Jones, better known as Madame Soyer, whose pictures, remarkable for their instinctive representation of nature — of scenes upon which the eye daily rests, and which her mind coloured with vivid simphcity and truth, aided also by a MuriUo touch, earned and maintained for her (it is no idle eulogy so to say) an European reputation. In 1837, he enlisted beneath the banners of the Reformers, where he won his first field of fame upon Enghsh ground, upon the occasion of the coronation of Her present Most Gracious Majesty. Such, gentle reader, is the Reform Club. Of the influence of such an Institution upon Society, it is unnecessary to speak, questions of this kind are ever raised in extremes, and in extremes decried ; but no fallacy is greater, no assumption more erroneous, than that which attributes the formation or direction of public opinion to assembhes of this kind. A Club is powerful as concentrating the pressure from without ; but let it try to oppose its onward current, and it is as effective as dear and active Mrs. Partington's mop against the waters of the rude Atlantic. We cannot conclude this account of the Reform Club, without e3q)ressing our sense of the very gentlemanly attention and liberal aid we have received from the secretary, Walter Scott, Esq. ; and this acknowledgment is due also to Mr. J. M. Blashford, by whom the Scagliola was executed, and to Messrs. Holland and Son, the excellent Upholsterers, for the assistance they have afforded us in the arrangement of these details. 153 THE TEMPLE CHURCH. To the attraction it has all along possessed for the antiquary as being one of the oldest ecclesiastical structures in the metropolis, this edifice now adds that of novelty for the pub- lic, owing to its having been not merely put into thorough repair, but completely renovated internally, and rendered a specimen of church decoration which has been so very long extinct among us as to appear quite unprecedented in this country. Its character is all the more striking, because in direct opposition to what has been considered appropriate for buildings of the class, and for the style of architecture. Time or whitewash had been suliered so entirely to obliterate what traces might else have remained of decorative painting and coloured ornaments and patterns, on walls and roofs, that aU embellishment of the kind had come to be regarded as foreign from the genius of the style itself, as well as inconsistent with the sobriety befitting the house of prayer : not that colour was banished altogether, for some splendid specimens, and gorgeous efiects of it were allowed to remain, but then it was merely in stained glass windows ; and with respect to them it may be remarked, that, however brilliant they may be in themselves, they tend rather to increase solemnity, by shedding a dim mysterious light, — a 'many-tinted gloom' over the building, than to pro- duce an aspect of gaiety. It must at the same time be confessed that the efiect attending stained glass or coloured light, is very different from that produced by coloured materials and surfaces, and painted decoration; and owing, perhaps, in a great measure to custom and association, the latter does not seem much in unison with the Pointed style. In the latest and most florid species of it, — that in which the architecture itself is so elaborate, that the whole becomes a continuous piece of carved work, there is hardly room for further decoration by means of the pencil. Such an interior, for instance, as Henry Vllth's Chapel, would be rendered almost a mass of confusion, — a mere glittering chaos of ornament, were recourse had to painting for its further embellishment ; and there would be great danger of the limits being passed, which divide gorgeousness from gaudiness, and luxuriant richness from mere flutter and littleness. Such being the case, — decoration of the kind alluded to, being almost excluded from that species of the Pointed style by the very floridness of its own character, it is apt to strike at first as somewhat incongruous, when applied to one which is simple even to severity, and which, although in some respects marked by lightness and delicacy of fonns, has compara- tively little of architectural enrichment, no playful intricacy of tracery, no spreading ramified windows, neither canopied niches, nor accimaulated mouldings and panels. There certainly is nothing whatever in the external aspect of the Temple Church, to prepare a stranger for 154 LONDON INTERIORS. the splendid appearance it now makes within ; and in point of mere architectural design, the interior itself is plain, although as now arranged it presents an exceedingly rich coup d'ceil — one that may almost be described as 'festive' in character. To speak of it as being highly * scenic' might, considering the purpose of the building, seem a very ques- tionable sort of praise, but it certainly is eminently striking in effect, — and of a kind to which no engraved view can pretend to do justice, because it depends upon colour : for to adopt a term that may seem to be more in costume with the style itself, than the Greek word Polychromy, this interior may be said to be a specimen of Illuminated architecture. It should be further borne in mind, that two very distinct — not to say opposite, modes of coloured decoration are here employed; — transparent in the windows, and opaque or actual painting for the vaulting of the roof, and some other parts ; consequently, there is a consi- derable difference between the effect of the one, and that of the other. Before we proceed to description and examination, it is proper to say something of the history of the building itself. The name " Temple" is derived from the place having been originally the residence of the Knights Templars, a celebrated military order insti- tuted in the early part of the twelfth century (1118), who afterwards became distinguished throughout Christendom, both for their martial prowess and adventures, and for their nimibers and their opulence ; which last contributed ultimately to their downfall, since their vast wealth had considerable share in exciting the accusations brought against them, and which led to the suppression of the order after it had existed for about two centuries. Their church was dedicated to St. Mary, by the Patriarch Heraclius, in 1185; and it would seem, re-dedicated in 1240 : but as there is no reason to suppose that it could have been rebuilt or materially altered within so short a time, the probability is that the first-mentioned dedication was that of the west, or circular portion of the structure, the second of the east or body of the church. . The present building may be considered essentially the same as the original one ; for though it underwent many innovations — very different matters from renovations — they were not of a kind to affect the fabric itself, and have since been swept away. After narrowly escaping destruction at the time of the "Great Fire," it was "beautified" in 1682, when the nave was enclosed by a wains-: cot organ screen and gallery being erected between it and the circular vestibule, in what was then called the " Grecian" style, and was, no doubt, considered at the time a very great improvement to the " antiquated monkish" edifice. The altar was of the same material, and in the same taste ; and wainscotting on the lower part of the walls, and; pews, served to complete the modern refinements, and give the whole that appearance of "neatness!" for which it has been actually praised by some who considered that epithet; an eulogium. If it escaped innovation of that kind, and the being blocked up by pews,^ the circular west end of the building exhibited a very motley and incongruous display oi monuments : while the primitive effigies of Red Cross Knights and Crusaders lay in twoi THE TEMPLE CHURCH. 155 groups of five each on the floor, mural and " frontispiece" monuments of various kinds were erected around. There were also a great many others within the nave ; but aU have been removed from both parts of the building ; and most, if not the whole of them, are now deposited in the triforium, or enclosed gallery, which runs round the upper part, or tambour, of the rotunda, and which, though it is distinctly expressed by the blank arcade of small piUars and intersecting arches beneath the clerestory windows, has only six narrow openings corresponding with the larger arches below. What has thus far been said wiU enable the reader to judge what was the state of the edifice previously to the late alterations, and therefore how much has been undone and got rid of, preparatorily to doing what has since been carried into effect ; and we may now give some account of the general plan, and the circmnstances common to it both in its former and present state. Externally, it makes no great figure, either in regard to size or ornament, for the style is very plain, and almost the only features in the design are the triple lancet-windows and buttresses : it is, besides, very unfavourably situated, being apparently thrust quite into a corner, and so built against and blocked up by houses at the west end, that the entrance must almost be looked for, and even the tower, or upper part of the circular vestibule, scarcely shows itself.* Owing, again, to the height of the adjoining houses, the Church looks low, and altogether smaller than it really is. The external dimensions are 150 by 65 feet ; and it is divided within into a rotunda, and the body of the church beyond it at the east end. The former of these is 60 feet in its general diameter, but this is contracted by a circular aisle of six clustered columns and pointed arches, leaving a clear space in the centre, immediately beneath the tower, 26 feet in diameter, and there rising to 56 in height, and lighted by six small windows. The other division, or body of the church, is 82 by 58 feet, formed into a centre and lateral aisles by five arches on each side, corresponding with the same number of triple windows. The breadth of the centre aisle fs the same as the diameter, or central space, of the circular part, whereby a pleasing harmony is kept up throughout, and imity of plan is combined with great variety of it. There used formerly to be a small chapel, on the south side of the circular portion ; but that was, unfortunately, demolished at the time of the repairs made in 1825 by Sir Robert Smirke, who, however well he may have exe- cuted his task, in regard to putting the building into better condition, certainly did not manifest any geniality of feeling, or sympathy of taste. Notwithstanding that much was then done in the way of external repair, and re- casing the walls, it was found necessary, a very few years afterwards, to attend to the * The approach is certainly highly inconvenient, yet might be rendered not only perfectly commo- dious, but equally beautiful and novel in eflFect, by converting the present long, exposed alley from the entrance in Fleet Street, into a low covered avenue, or cloister, lighted by lanterns or other openings at latervals, in its vaulted roof. 156 LONDON INTERIORS. j interior of the building, which was fortunately found, on examination, to be greatly i dilapidated in many parts : we say fortunately, because had not such been the case — ^had | it required comparatively little to be done to it, it would, in all probability, have been \ merely put into statu quo. Fortunate at all events it is that instead of contenting them- - selves with patching up the interior — an operation that would have had to be repeated | from time to time, the " Benchers" determined to go beyond the mark of actual necessity, \ — to do the thing '* handsomely ;" to reinstate the whole completely, and thereby produce \ what is at present almost a unique specimen of its kind, although it is to be hoped, it will \ be followed by other examples. Undoubtedly the expense has been very great, — the out- ■ lay as much as would have sufficed to erect a score of average rate modern Gothic ; churches ; but then hardly would the funds have been so appropriated ; and as regards \ the building in question, it is better that what has been expended on it should be so in \ the lump, instead of being frittered away in lesser sums from time to time, for " necessary repairs." The architect first employed was Mr. Savage ; and by him the works were i commenced in 1840, and continued until some differences taking place between him and \ the Building Committee, it was resolved to appoint two other architects, viz., Mr. Sidney ; Smirke, and Mr. Decimus Burton. 1 The external porch, and richly-sculptured doorway within it, have been completely ■ restored ; and though, owing to the very awkward manner in which it is obtruded upon, | squeezed up, and built over, the porch itself does not appear to any advantage, this defect I is attended with one of those happy accidents which better contrivance would have missed ; j for after passing through that dark comer, the coup d'oeil presented on first entering is * doubly impressive and effective. We suddenly obtain a splendid vista through the build- | ing to its further extremity, though not such as to disclose too much at first, by showing \ the whole scheme of it at a glance ; but, on the contrary, a fine architectural picture, J which, while it delights the eye by its varied perspective, strongly excites the imagination * by partially revealing what can be fully enjoyed only on a nearer approach to it. We feel i at loss to determine whether the efiect is to be attributed to the brilliant foreground, or ! vestibule, or to the equally brUliant distance of the picture : both are eminently striking, u In the body of the church there are altogether thirteen triple lancet windows, viz., five on each side, and three at the east end ; but of these only the last-mentioned, and :■ two on the south side near them, have as yet been filled with stained glass. No doubt it I would have been possible to glaze aU the windows with coloured glass for the same cost as S that now expended upon five of them ; but then, how ? — ^most assuredly not in any thing | like the same style, nor to the same extent. As to the style itself here adopted by % Mr. Willement, the able artist employed on them, it may be described as the purely deco- | rative : here no attempt is made at pictorial imitation or illusion ; the windows profess to * be no more than compartments in the general design, corresponding with the architecture. ? 167 WESTMINSTER HALL. When William Rufus, who is supposed to have been its founder, said of this vast Hall of the ancient palace of Westminster, that it was large enough only for a bed-chamber, he certainly expressed himself very energetically, and very largely ; and must, moreover, have had singular notions of comfort, for it is one of the most extensive apartments in the world, its dimensions being 238 by 67 feet. With the exception of the great Riding- house at Moscow, (which is 540 by 150) it is surpassed in size only by the Hall of the Palazzo di Ragione, at Padova, the last being thirteen feet wider, and forty more in length. Rufus's bed-chamber would therefore serve as sleeping quarters for a whole regiment, or more, even were they all giants. We do not mean to say that there is any thing very ex- traordinary in the size of the structure itself, but merely as regards its spaciousness within, where it forms a single room, uninterrupted by pillars of any kind, or any divisions, and which is spanned across by a roof supported only by the side walls. In order that the reader may form a clear idea of its magnitude in this respect, we may compare it with the nave of the neighbouring 'Abbey,' whose clear dimensions are 166 feet by 72; yet though the entire breadth is here somewhat more, it is greatly reduced by being divided into three distinct parts, the middle one of which, or centre aisle, is only 38 feet, and being much loftier (101 feet high) is consequently much narrower in its proportions than the 'Hall,' whose extreme height does not much exceed eighty feet; and whose clear height within the arches of its timber roof is even somewhat less than its breadth. In other words it is breadth, or expanse, which is here most strikingly of all expressed, which gives the predominating character, while in the other case, it is loftiness ; and though each of these qualities conduces to grandeur, the species of it which arises from the one, differs greatly from that attending the other, nor can they be reconciled together ; since let the actual size be what it may, the same thing cannot be of lofty and wide proportions. In making these remarks, we can hardly be accused of being too technical and dry, because they rather serve to relieve the dryness of matter-of-fact description, by explaining and calling attention to circumstances which, important as they are in themselves, are else not taken into account at all ; and which so far from being considered, are not even sus- pected by persons in general. The present structure, it should be observed, is not the original one of the time of Rufus ; for just three centuries afterwards it was rebuilt, or very nearly so, by Richard II. 158 LONDON INTERIORS. who on its being completed in 1399, held here a grand Christmas festival. Though some of the solid walls of the older edifice may have remained, the "architecture" is evidently that of the fourteenth century, and the north and south windows at the ends, and the noble timber roof are admirable specimens of it, the latter more especially, it being one of the finest — or rather the finest work of the kind anywhere to be met with. In fact it is the roof which gives the Hall, if not its whole, its chief, and very peculiar architectural character. It seems to fiU up, of itself, the entire expanse, and is of the same importance here as the sky in a sea-piece, or in a level landscape with a low horizon. In most other Gothic interiors, the efiect of loftiness is produced more by the height of the walls and the altitude of the roof from the floor, than by the actual height of roof or vaulting itself. In the present case the effect is altogether different : not only is the roof itself considerably higher than the walls, but is brought down upon them, being made to begin to spring from corbels at the distance of only twenty feet from the floor owing to which apparent reduction of height, the expression of breadth is increased, and the whole roof brought nearer to the eye. Magnificent in itself, and most striking for the rich and intricate perspective pro- duced by its lengthened pile of flying arches, this roof has obtained the character of "magnificent" for the whole Hall ; yet in other respects the building is rather " majestic" than magnificent ; is marked more by solemnity and dignity, than by richness. Most splendid, indeed, it has shown itself on many occasions, when it has been made the theatre of high festivities ; but in such cases the splendour has been of an adventitious kind, — the pomp has not been its own, but that in which it has been attired for the occasion as with a mantle of state, to be again laid aside. It has, too, more than once put on an aspect very different from that of a regal banqueting hall : it has, in former days, sometimes been the scene of parliamentary debate, and sometimes that of solemn trials, and impeachments ; here, also, it was that the unfortunate Charles was brought to trial — the sovereign to stand as a culprit, and afterwards to suffer on the scaffold ; but to suffer with the dignity of a king, and the heroism of a martyr. Much nearer to our times, and in those of many yet living, Westminster Hall was the scene of another memorable trial — that of Warren Hastings ; and as our view of the interior represents it as it was fitted up on that occasion, it will cer- tainly not be irrelavent here to say something more than a mere mention of the fact. Now that it is quite faded, the interest excited by the afiair at the time seems hardly in- telligible ; and even at the time it must have been nearly worn out before the proceedings terminated, for they were protracted from February 1788, to April 1795. Of eloquence there was abundance ; and Burke's three day's invective against the accused, must have been almost as consolatory, as it was intended to be crushing ; since it elevated the latter most conspicuously upon a pinnacle before the eyes of the whole world. But for his im- peachment, Hastings might probably have gone out of the world with no more than the highly respectable character of a very good sort of nobody, who had once held the snug WESTMINSTER HALL. 169 post of Governor-General of India. As it was, his acquittal consigned him to what, in comparison with his former celebrity, may be termed obscurity ; and the excitement once attending his name must have evaporated before August 1818, — the period of his death. In her recently published " Diary," Madame D'Arblay has given us a " sketch from the life," or " a drawing taken on the spot," of some of the proceedings at Hastings' trial : it contains much, indeed, that it is beneath the dignity of history to notice, but which most people relish not the less on that account ; and as she was an eye witness, we may receive her description of the arrangements and fittings-up of the Hall on the occasion, as a sufficiently correct one. " The Grand Chamberlain's box is in the centre of the upper end of the Hall : there we sat. Miss Gomme and myself, immediately behind the chair placed for Sir Peter BurreU. To the left, on the same level, were the green benches for the House of Commons, which occupied a third of the upper end of the HaU, and the whole of the left side : to the right of us, on the same level, was the Grand Chamberlain's Gallery. The side of the Hall, opposite to the benches for the Commons, was appropriated to peeresses, and peers' daughters. The bottom of the Hall contained the Royal Family's box, and the Lord High Steward's, above which was a large gallery appointed for receiving company with peers' tickets. A gaUery also was run along the left side of the HaU, above the green benches, which is called the Duke of Newcastle's box, the centre of which was railed off into a separate apartment for the Queen and four elder Princesses, who were there incog, not choosing to appear in state, and in their own box. Along the right side of the Hall, ran another gallery, divided into boxes for various people — the Lord Chamberlain, (not the Great Chamberlain), the Surveyor, the Architect, &c. Now for the disposition of the Hall itself, or ground : — ^in the middle was placed a large table, and at the head of it a seat for the Chancellor, and round it, seats for the Judges, the Masters in Chancery, the Clerks, and aJl who belonged to the law. The upper end and right side of the HaU was aUotted to peers in their robes ; the left to the Bishops. Immediately below the Great Chamber- lain's box, was the place aUotted for the prisoner, having on the right a box for his own counsel ; on the left, one for the Managers or Committee for the Prosecution." — Further than this we need not quote from Fanny Bumey, because, though more interesting, her remarks on the actors and incidents of the scene would here be out of place. On the night of October 16th, 1834, Westminster HaU was nearly involved in the destruction of the Houses of ParUament, for it was only by the utmost exertions that the flames, which at one time nearly burst through the south window at the upper end, were checked in that direction. A few minutes more, and no himaan efforts covdd have rescued the HaU from the general conflagration, because had the roof once caught fire, the flames would have swept through that forest of timber with uncontrollable fury. The waUs, indeed, would have defied the raging element, but the roof itself once destroyed, the whole 160 LONDON INTERIORS. would have been lost, since it is the roof that constitutes the fabric. In all probability, top, had that perished, no idea would have been entertained of restoring the Hail, merely because the walls were left standing, inasmuch as the necessity of retaining it proved a circumstance attended with serious difficulties in all the designs for the New Houses of Parliament. Not the least difficulty of all was that of accommodating the rest of the plan to it ; a difficiilty, again, considerably increased by the vastness of its dimensions, which are such as must cause it to appear extravagantly large, considering its secondary purpose in the new edifice, to which it will be merely an adjunct. For any architect to have proposed a Hall of the kind, would, doubtless, have been deemed preposterous and extravagant, but to get rid of it, when it was actually provided, would have been equally so, more especially as it is a precious historical relique of the ancient Palace of Westminster. It is now intended that the Hall shall form an entrance and ambulatory for the public ; for which purpose it has of late been chiefly used, as a mere approach to the Law Courts on its west side, and a place of rendezvous for those in attendance on them : and, if such a capacious and stately vestibule, was not quite out of character with what are comparatively very confined rooms, hardly can it be deemed so in connection with so extensive and pala- tial a pile, as the "New Houses ;"one in which there will be so much architectural pomp, so many magnificent galleries and saloons, independently of the " Houses" themselves, that, how- ever highly expectation may be raised at first, there is no danger of its being succeeded by disappointment. Of course, Westminster Hall — ^which name it will probably retain, will not remain exactly in its present state ; but the alterations indispensably required are, by no means, of a kind to interfere at all with its architectural character ; on the contrary, rather to improve it. The vista will be extended by an arched portal being opened at the soutl end, beneath the great window there, with a flight of steps leading up into a porch or ves- tibule, whence turning to the left or East, we shall enter other public halls and corridors communicating with the rest of the building. Beyond such change, no other will be made in the Hall, except in regard to decoration ; but of what kind, or to what extent that will be, is not yet decided, nor perhaps can be, until after the competition now going on for tht cartoons for frescos. No doubt the Hall is admirably well adapted for large subjects exe- cuted in that style, since besides amplitude of surface on the walls to be so covered, there would also be amplitude of space to view the paintings from a proper distance ; and the walls being, as already remarked, low, in consequence of the roof being brought down upon them, the compartments filled with fresco must be nearly on a level with the eye. It may, perhaps, be doubted if the Hall !s, or can well be, made sufficiently light, yet, though pictures in oil might not be seen very distinctly, fresco is a mode of painting that reflects light, and subjects executed in it are visible in situations where they would be nearly lost, if painted in oil. m •■ 181 ST. JAMES'S PALACE. THE PROCLA.MATION OF QUEEN VICTORIA, OUR PRESENT MOST GRACIOUS SOVEREIGN. The fundamental maxim, upon which the right of succession to the throne of England depends, is this : — that the Crown is hereditary, and in this manner peculiar to itself ; but that the right of inheritance may from time to time be changed, or limited, by Act of Parliament, under which limitations the Crown still continues hereditary. According to the celebrated Blackstone, it is held, First, — That the Crown is here- ditary, or descendible to the next heir. All regal governments must be hereditary, or elective ; and, had our ancestors chosen to have made our monarchy elective, there is no doubt they could have done so. They preferred, however, to establish originally a succes- sion by inheritance. And they did so wisely ; for if the individuals who compose the State, could always continue true to first principles, uninfluenced by passion and prejudice, unassailed by corruption, and unawed by violence, then indeed an elective government would be as much desired in a kingdom as in inferior communities. But as elections are too often brought about by vmdue influence, partiaUty, and violence, the chance of select- ing the most proper person to fill the throne would, at least, be doubtful. Added to this, in disputes respecting the election of the Chief Magistrate, there would be no superior power to refer to, to settle them, and allay the dissensions between one part of the nation and the other, but civil and intestine war. In order to prevent the periodical bloodshed, which would take place at every fresh election, an hereditary monarchy has been established in this, and most of the kingdoms on the Continent. Second, — It is hereditary in a manner peculiar to itself. It is descendible to the next heir in the same manner as that in which the common law has pointed out for the succession of landed estates, yet with one or two exceptions. Instead of descending to all the females, in default of males, it descends to the eldest female only, as was the case of Queen Mary, who succeeded to the throne by herself, and not in partnership with her sister Elizabeth. It can also descend to the nearest relation of the half-blood, as in the instance of Queen Elizabeth ; which land cannot. Third, — The right of inheritance may be changed or altered by Act of Parliament, It is imquestionably in the power of the supreme legislative authority of the kingdom, Ike 162 LONDON INTERIORS. King, Lords, and Commons, to defeat this hereditary right, as, if this power was not lodged somewhere, the heir-apparent might be a lunatic, idiot, or otherwise incapable of reigning. Fourth, — However changed, or limited, the Crown still continues hereditary. Hence' in law, the King, as the supreme power in the State, is said " never to die ;" but the moment the man is dead, the Crown vests in his heir. The royal dignity of Sovereign is instantly, on the death of the reigning Prince, vested in his successor : and this is emphati- cally called " the demise of the CroWn," which signifies a transfer of property from one to another. Thus there can be no interval whatever between the demise of the Crown, and the assumption of it by the person, who is either heir by common law, or to whom it has been hmited or transferred by the Act of the Legislature. The instances in which Par- liament has exercised this right are two. The revolution of 1688, when the throne having been declared vacant on the flight and abdication of King James II., the two Houses of Parliament, which represented all the estates of the people, settled the Crown, first on King "William, and Mary his wife, and the survivor of them ; also upon their children : and then upon the Princess Anne, and her children. When, however, towards the end of the reign of the latter Princess, all hopes of linea^ succession were at an end, the Parlia- ment again exerted their authority, by hmiting and settling the Crown upon the Electoral House of Hanover. On the demise of Queen Anne, August 1, 1714, the then Elector of Hanover, George, as representative of the Houses of Brunswick and Hanover, ascended the throne of these realms ; and this may be considered as the commencement of " The Georgian ^ra." To the kings of this memorable dynasty, our late Sovereign, William IV., of "happy memory," succeeded ; and under his truly domestic government the palace of St. James's underwent many changes for the improvement of its state character and conveniences. On the termi- nation of his useful reign our present Most Gracious Sovereign Lady, Victoria, mounted the throne, June 20, 1837. A yoimg and amiable Q,ueen was then summoned from comparative privacy to ride a greater extent of empire, and to govern a greater diversity of " kin- dreds, tongues, and people," than were ever before assembled beneath the sway of a single sceptre ! As speedily as possible the fact of the Accession was announced to the new Monarch, the Privy Council were immediately summoned, and re-sworn, when the Sovereign addressed to them a short declaration, and orders were issued for the Procla- mation. The Queen, at her first council, took and subscribed the oath relating to the Church of Scotland ; after which the oaths of allegiance and supremacy were administered to both Houses of Parliament. On the day following the accession, it is the invariable custom for the Sovereign to be proclaimed at St. James's Palace. This ancient palace stands on the spot where was once an hospital dedicated to St. James, originally foimded by the citizens of London, for fourteen women afllicted with leprosy, who were to live a chaste and devout life ; but additional donations coming in, the ST. JAMES S PALACE. 163 charity was greatly extended, and eight brethren were added, to administer divine service. This hospital is mentioned in a MS in the Cottonian library, so early as the year 1100. The custody of this hospital was given to Eton College, by a grant of the 28 th of Henry VI ., by whom, in the year 1531, it was surrendered to Henry VIII., who took down the edifice, except the chapel, and erected the present palace, which was called " St. James's Palace." The Sovereigns of England have kept their Court at St. James's, ever since the palace at "Whitehall was destroyed by fire in 1697. It is an irregular brick building, without the least pretension to ornament : — that part in which are the Rooms of State, being only one story high, gives an uniform appearance on the outside ; whilst the internal arrangements are so admirably adapted for State occasions, that they are universally allowed to be the most commodious in Europe for Drawing Rooms, Levees, &c. The State apartment in which Queen Victoria was proclaimed, is usually designated " The Tapestry Room." It is approached through the Grand Room, and adjoins the noble saloon, called " Q,ueen Ann's Room." This apartment is lofty, but not of large dimensions ; it is fitted up with some gorgeous tapestries, representing the amours of Venus and Mars. These tapestries are of the time of King Charles II., and had, for many years, lain neglected in a chest ; — they were purified, and placed in their present position on the occasion of the marriage of the Prince of Wales (the late George IV.) with H. R. H. Charlotte Ameha Elizabeth, daughter of the late Duke of Brunswick, April 8, 1795. In this room, over the chimney-piece, are some relics of the period of Henry VIII., and among them may be mentioned the letters H. A., united by a true lover's knot blending the initials of Henry and Anne Bolejm ; — the lily of France, formerly emblazoned among the arms of England ; — The portcullis of Westminster ; — and the rose of Lancaster. The large bay window of the Tapestry Room, is the spot where the Sovereigns of England have been hitherto proclaimed. It immediately faces the Quadrangle, which, in the olden time, was better known as ** Chair Court," * and is opposite to Marl- borough House, the residence of Her Majesty the Queen Dowager. The 21st of June, 1837, will be a day long remembered by those who had the good fortune to witness the singidar, beautiful, and affecting spectacle of the Proclamation of our beloved Sovereign. In the centre stood the youthful monarch, suffused in tears, and almost overwhelmed by the tremendous responsibilities of her situation, from which, however, * Chair Court has been the scene of many a battle royal, among the chairmen, formerly retained by almost every lady of quality, when they came to Court in hoops. The open space opposite Marlbo- rough House was created by the dreadful fire, which took place January 17, 1809, when two-thirds of the quadrangle were destroyed; and the front of the building forming the fagade, towards St. James'* Park, was more than half destroyed, comprehending the apartments of H. R, H. the Duke of Cambridge, and some of the Ladies of the Bedchamber. The fire occurred on the day of the Drawing Koom held in celeu bration of the birthday of Her Majesty Queen Charlotte. 164 LONDON INTERIORS. she obtained a very apparent relief in the hearty cheers of her sympathising and loyal people. H. R. H. the Duchess of Kent stood a little to the right of Her Majesty, and was observed to watch with an anxious eye the regal bearing of her illustrious daughter. The President of the Council (the Marquess of Lansdowne), was on her Majesty's right hand ; and the First Lord of the Treasury (Viscount Melbourne), on the left — close behind, were most of the members of the Cabinet ; the Lord Steward ; and Lord Chamberlain of the Household ; the Earl Marshal of England ; with other illustrious personages. In the Court Yard beneath, opposite the window, were the band of household trumpeters, and Sergeants at Arms, whose duty it was to attend the proclamation of the Sovereign in the various parts of the Metropolis. In front of the soldiers were an immense assemblage of persons, principally ladies of distinction, who vied in every demonstration of loyalty and devotion. Silence having been obtained, Clarenceux, King at Arms (Sir William Woods), attended by four poursuivants (PortcuUis, Rouge Croix, Blue Mantle and Rouge Dragon) made proclamation in the following emphatic terms : — "PROCLAMATION. " Whereas it hath pleased Almighty God to call to his mercy, our late Sovereign Lord King William the Fourth, of blessed memory, by whose decease the imperial Crown of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland is solely and rightfully come to the high and mighty Princess, Alexandrina-Victoria ; we, therefore, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal of this Realm, being here assisted with those of his late Majesty's Privy Coimcil ; with numbers of other principal gentlemen of quality ; with the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens of London, do now hereby, with one voice and consent of tongue and heart, publish and proclaim that the high and mighty Princess, Alexandrina-Victoria, is now, by the death of the late Sovereign of happy memory become our only lawful and rightful liege Lady, Alexsmdrina-Victoria, by the grace of God, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland Defender of the Faith, &c. &c. To whom we acknowledge all faith, and constant obedience, with all humble and Hearty affection, beseeching God, by whom Kings and Queens do reign, to bless the Royal Princess, Alexandrina-Victoria, with long and happy years to reign over us. God save the Queen ! Given at our Court, at Kensington, this 20th day of June, in the year of our Lord, 1837, and in the first year of our Reign." Having thus in succinct terms given a general outhne of the important ceremonies Attending the Accession and Proclamation of Queen Victoria, we may venture to add to the many prayers which where then offered, that Her Majesty's reign might be peaceful and prosperous, our own earnest hope that her illustrious offspring may be preserved to emulate her great and manifold virtues, and that the good palace of St. James may in all succeeding times continue to maintain the character she has obtained for it — that of a hospitable, well-ordered establishment. 165 HALL OF THE ATHBN^UM. Our readers will remember, that our account of the Athenaeum, in number sixteen, the first of a series of articles descriptive of the '* Clubs of London," was prefaced by a slight narrative of those which have existed, and of the events which have led to the for- mation and estabUshment of many of the most frequented at the present day. In so doing we sought to impart our impression rather of the mind, than the structure of this building; its spiritual not its material quality ; Literature more than Art, combination than detail, were the points which, to use a legal phrase, we may be said to have laboured. We renew this subject, with no desire to describe the beaten path, or to dwell on scenes familiar, but to notice points then imperfectly considered ; in the strict fulfilment of our engagement to make this series of articles alike illustrative of the social features as of the architecture of each Institution. On entering the Hall of the Athenaeum, the spectator is immediately struck by the classic taste, the refined feeling of the design. Once conceived, its clear and symmetrically defined outline never quits the mind ; the plan, its arrangement, and acces- sories, impress and confirm the impression of unity, harmony, simplicity, proportion. The dimensions of this apartment, for such indeed it is, are 35 feet broad, by 57 feet long, and its height in the centre 21 feet. The space so enclosed is divided by two lines of scagKola columns and pilasters, four in each range, placed about eight feet from the side walls ; imi- tating white marble, the capitals of which are after those of the Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, at Athens. The ceilings of the side compartments are flat, and at the level of their facial or external cornice, the centre springs and forms a segmental arch of great lightness, which adds very greatly to the general good efiect. The whole is handsomely panneUed. The floor is composed of the Mosaic known as the Marmorato Veneziano, being constructed of particles of marble set in hard cement, or scagHola resembling Sienna marble, rubbed down and pohshed. This produces a warm and carpeted efiect, far preferable to the raw and chilling whiteness of Portland stone hitherto usuaUy adopted in similar situations. The colour thus introduced into the floor is also so modulated, that whilst it relieves the columns it contrasts happily with the tints of the, walls and ceiUng; does not oppress us by its fullness; neither contracts space, nor absorbs that which is the Kfe of all architectural arrangement — Light. Over each of the two fire places, in niches, of which it has been said by an eminent critic, they are the finest contrivance he had ever seen for sculptural display, a statue is placed. These are the Diana- Robing, and the Venus Victrix, selected upon the recommendation of the late Sir Thomas l..awrence ; — ^we regret to add they are of plaster, which shows that it is not in Egypt only 166 LONDON INTERIORS. the form of the God has tended to desecrate the constructive beauty of the temple. Tlie ascent to the principal rooms is by a handsome staircase, consisting of a centre flight of steps, with branches to a spacious landing. The west wall of the staircase is decorated by two Corinthian columns in a recess, from whence a cast of the Belvedere Apollo is seen to great advantage, — an instance of the power of sculpture to destroy the barrenness of una- dorned surface, without being destructive of space. The Club owes this statue to the liberality of the Architect ; one of the Demosthenes was originally designed for this place, but could not be sculptured in time for the opening of the house in 1830. Ample light for the entire space is obtained from a turret, the ceiling of which is 54 feet from the floor. Ofi'the stairs, on the right hand of this landing, is the Library, 43 feet long, by 80 wide, and 23 feet high. Above the mantle-piece is a portrait of George IV., painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, upon which he was engaged but a few hours previous to his decease ; the last bit of colour this eminent artist ever put upon canvass being that on the hilt and sword- knot of the girdle. Thus it remains unfinished, a pleasing yet painful memorial, an honourable testimony, the eloquent witness, of the greatness of his talents, and the unfore- seen close of his career. Around the extent of one side of this room, is a gallery of pecuhar elegance ; it is constructed of mahogany, supported by ten bronze cantilevers. The ascent to this is by sixteen steps, ornamented with elaborate scroll brackets of the same material. It is re- markable for exhibiting strength combined .with lightness, mechanical ingenuity, and economy of space. The book-cases of the Dramng Room are crowned, we cannot say ornamented, by a curious collection of plaster casts — the Italian Images — of certain of Great Britain's great men. Gray asks us — ("to be sure poetically") — " Can storied urn, or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath !" a question which we wiU venture to answer with the utmost safety in the negative, if the fleeting breath be in any manner dependent upon the spiritual power to be exerted by these painted effigies for its restoration. There are two things of the absence of which we are too frequently reminded in England ; — good taste, and earthquakes to correct the con- sequences of that most sad deficiency, but " de Bustibus ut de Gustibus non est" — and so pass we on. The rest of this story is occupied by a room called the Small Library, and another generally used by the Committee, the dimensions of these being taken together about 40 feet long by 21 broad. Objections have at various times been made to the present mode of decorating the Hall and Staircase. The walls have been described as cold and naked, over which the eye wanders unexcited and unrelieved. But as there is nothing so common and so easy AS thinking in the absence, and deciding without the knowledge of facts, we shall noi HALL OF THE ATHEN^UM. 167 endeavour to controvert theories based upon such modes of argument and parts of speech, but simply detail to our readers the plan originally suggested, and which we yet hope to see executed, with reference to the full, becoming, and requisite decoration of this noble building. We shall therefore commence with the ground-floor. The distinct, we may say the chartered, principle of the Athenaeum, is the promotion of Science, Literature, and Art. Now it is obvious that this its avowed purpose should be, therefore, its moral impression. This is to be maintained not as an incidental, but a direct feature ; and all feeHng and interest therewith connected, in this should centre, and from this should radiate. For this purpose it was suggested that the Coffee Room, being 74 feet long by 30 feet wide, and 21 feet high, which is lighted by seven windows of large dimensions, should be decorated with panels architecturally arranged, to receive paintings, the subjects of which should be drawn from memorable incidents in the lives of deceased members, who have eminently contributed to promote Science, Literature, and Art ; and in a similar manner to appropriate the Morning Room, the dimensions of which are 30 feet square, and 21 feet high. Such a plan has been very frequently discussed ; and in further- ance of it a late member of the Club, and a distinguished patron of the Arts, proposed an association of certain members who would subscribe an annual sum for the purchase of a picture painted by a British artist, to be hung as might be agreed upon between the subscribers and the General Committee. Nor can it be doubted that a scheme so calcu- lated to impart and nourish the feelings, which, if not entirely those of the artist, are at least such as chiefly tend to forward and reward his exertions ; which would impart a truer pleasure to the social enjoyment of the Athenaeum by making it the memorial of departed greatness, and the tribute of cultivated noinds to the superiority of individual attain- ments ; would meet with the assistance, encouragement, the patronage and protection, not of a limited circle, but of all those who appreciate the influence the Arts possess in enlarging the sphere of educated intercourse, relieving the cares, and softening the asperities of Hfe. We trust we indulge no idle hope, in saying that such a design vdW be ultimately completed ; and in such case the walls of the Hall and Staircase would also be divided into panels, to be filled in with appropriate sculptures. In a Society comprising within its circle the principal artists, — men of Science the most eminent, and authors of European reputation, whose palace is the occasional home for the intellectual greatness of the Continent — it cannot but be felt, that the true prosperity, the rational interest, of the Athenaeum, must depend on the strict maintenance of its original design. You cannot be indifferent to the soil, and then expect to glean the harvest; you cannot neglect the tree, and hope to gather in the frvut. Without an active and abiding solicitude in this respect an institution of this kind has ever a tendency to dwindle from inferiority to inferiority, and its prosperity is not the consequence of intellectual means applied to an attainable end, but of the idleness, the momentary fancy, careless peculiarities, and occasional vaiutj of those who may desire for an interval to fritter away existence within its walls. 168 LONDON INTERIORS. There is no danger we can suppose so fatal to a Club as want of distinctness of cha- racter. The promiscuous intercourse of men of the greatest intellectual attainments, and of the highest ranks of society, with those whose thoughts are encompassed by the agri- cultural interest of the " Bulls of Bashan," or whose juvenile indiscretion has induced them to enter the circle, " because they can do things cheaper," has its Scylla and Charybdis side, but it is as nothing compared with the fatality which allows negative qualities to be the available tests of admission. The merely " amiable man," like the very amiable lady, is always a suspicious character, and the ideas of those who use the term are in general a* vague and indefinite as those who answer to the title. The Hall of the Athenaeum wao constructed solely with the view of promoting the social intercourse of the members. H is their Exchange, the Lounge. Here the politicians, the men of literature, and those " about town" assemble. Often have we heard the hum of earnest debate, the laughter provoked by wit or sarcasm, mingled with the ebb and flow of topics aiforded by the butterfly existence of a London season, arise in fitful gusts, and startle the more sober solemnity of the rooms we have described. Often have we noticed those whom the honourable man delighted to honour, gathering their circles arotmd them, in glad commu- nion of mental recreation. How often, too, have we not noticed the silent influence of Time and Death, the elastic step become decrepit, the overwrought frame bending beneath its burden, and the mind consumed and spent by the strength of its own energy. Few can tell how widely the popularity of one man influences the social pleasures of the many. "What is the Temperance Corner here now ? Father Mathew would not sit therein. Why does that pillar seem so desolate, and this Hall give so readily back the echo of the passing foot. He who made the inanimate spot a point of living interest, is numbered with the dead. One by one his admirers have dropped ofi", for when the feelings are estranged, we become gradually the deserters of the place once loved and so frequented. But regret is useless for the past ; it is in society as amid the ranks of brave men ; the space left vacant by the accident of the field, is instantly made good, and in a few years new interests arise, and re-animate the abodes over which desolation has passed, and in which solitude has dwelt. A Club House not unfrequently offers very amusing instances of the transitory nature of human greatness. Not long since a member who held the Library faith of the promise of the Fathers, and was anxious to consult their good works, asked in a somewhat familiar tone of acquaintance with those respectable theologians, — " Is Justin Martyr here V " I do not know," was the reply ; " I will refer to the list, but I do not think that gentleman is one of our members." Sic transit glqria. After a few years the supernumerary and the dead are equally matters of doubtful existence. There is nothing permanent in life but marking ink and taxes ; excepting always the affection that man bears towards the Sove- reigns of the State and Mint. W itaJolTife ^ . Vi^^ ! '/^u-nr^/i^ fj^ty.y/' J^/&,yyy /^i/ ^n.'^$*/W^ l.jud-n,, ruUi-lipa for [he rropricicrs.by .I-.Mcad.lO. Gmjfli .Squincl-lei-t Strctt. « 169 BUCKINGHAM PALACE. HER majesty's painters AND PAINTINGS. In Queen Victoria and her intellectual consort, Prince Albert, the Fine Arts of Gtc^t Britain have happily found protectors, who, knowing the value of elegance and refinement, in a wealthy and commercial nation, are disposed to promote their interests with a zeal proportioned to the high moral value which they undoubtedly possess. They have distin- guished themselves as lovers and guides of its noblest walks and most elevated performances ; the great artists both of our own and foreign nations have been made the companions of their leisure hours, and the progress of their works from the first to the finished stages, have become the subject of Royal amusement, and the source of its more elevated and permanent enjoyments. The names of Wilkie, Hayter, Leslie, Landseer, Chantrey, Winterhalter, Cornelius, Steinhauser and others, are as familiarly known to the household as those of the Lord Chamberlain, or the court Physician. In the society of such men, surrounded by an atmosphere of art, her Majesty and the Prince have acquired a knowledge of those principles of high art, which have led them, as the Royal commissions testify, to reject the merely brilhant, for the more solid departments of art ; and, above all things, to foster that ideal excellence, which it has been said to be the lot of genius always to contemplate, but never to obtain. We are happy in having the privilege of giving to the public, a home scene in the Palace, in which these exalted pursuits are displayed under circumstances which exhibit in an equal degree, the natural affection of the illustrious parents, the unostentatious simplicity of their private life, and the gracious familiarity which they observe towards a professor of the arts. In a corner of the throne room, whose windows, with one exception, have been darkened, the arrangements for painting a picture " by command" are faithfully displayed. A portrait of the Princess Royal is in the act of being taken, and Winterhalter is the fortunate artist chosen for the occasion. In a chair, placed on a table, the mother's " first bom" is seated ; near her stands the Dowager Lady Lyttleton, whose duty it is, to give the necessary instructions, and to endeavour, by appropriate conversation, to keep her attention from flagging. A rose, gathered by her Majesty, is presented to the littl< Princess, and the delight which is visible in her countenance, as she regards its variou! beauties, is the expression which it is the pleasure of the Queen, the painter shall make it his business to imitate. Meantime^ her Majesty and the Prince seat themselves at a no LONDON INTFRIORS. convenient distance from the party, and, as the work proceeds, they politely cheer the painter, and assure him of their confidence by many generous compliments. On these happy occasions, no state etiquette is observed, and even shifts have been known to be made to secure immediate convenience. The pair of garden steps, shown in in our plate, used to ascend the table, is an evidence of the thoroughly business purpose of the meeting. In ijc(;, but one desire prevails in the bosoms of all present — to give and receive instruction. In making these statements, which the public, knowing the great taste of her Majesty, will not be surprised to hear, we have judged that much curiosity will be excited to learn the character of the great works of art contained in her Majesty's tovni residence ; and as these have most unquestionably exercised an important influence in the formation of her Majesty's judgment in such matters, we have subjoined a list of the whole of the worlcs exhibited in the state rooms of the Palace. — JEANDE MABUSE. St. Matthew called from the receipt of Custom. ALBERT DURER. Virgin and Child. Nobleman and Patron Saint. Miser and Death. TITIAN. Landscape with Herdsmen and Cattle. REMBRANDT. Lady with Fan. Ship Builder and his Wife. Burgomaster Pancrass and his Lady Jew Rabbi. Angels at the Tomb of Christ. Adoration of the Magi. Portrait of the Painter. TENIERS. The Alchemist. Scene in Norway. Cavern Scene. Interior, with Dutch Boors. Fishermen on Sea Beech. Village Feast. Interior of Flemish Kitchen, The Dnunmer (two of this subject). Merry Making (five of this subject). Village Dance. Landscape with Figures. Portraitof the Painter and his Wife. A. OSTADE. Dutch Boors drinking. Dutch Family. Merry Making. Backgammon Player. I Conversation of Dutch Boors, i I. OSTADE. Dutch Fair. Road-side Inn. j Itinerant Musicians. j G. DOW. j The Sick Chamber. I Woman Scouring a Kettle. Old Man's Head. I Woman chopping Onions. Grocer's Shop. Interior, with Woman and Child. CUYP. Passage Boat. Landscape with Travellers. Horses with Figures in a Land- scape (two of this subject). A Camp, with Portrait of the Painter. Prince of Orange. Ducks. Henry, Prince of Orange. Cattle in a Landscape. F. MIERIS. Child blowing a Bladder. Cavalier smoking. Cavalier with Lady and Lap-dog. Lady feeding a Parrot. JAN STEEN. Card Party, with Portrait. Merry Making (two of this subject) Twelfth Night. Morning — a Lady dressing. Village Festival. I BUCKINGHAM PALACE. 171 METZU. Female at a Window. A Repast. Musical Party. Girl selling Fruit. A VANDERVELDE. Cattle Piece. View on the Coast of Scheveling. Fdrm Yard. Cattle in a Landscape. Cattle and Figures. WOUVERMANS. Banditti attacking a Caravan. Farriers' Booth. Hay Field. Travellers at an Inn Door. Horse Fair (two of this subject). Hawking Party. Camp Scene. Skirmishing of Cavalry. WYNANT AND WOUVERMANS. Hawking Party. BERGHEM. Landscape and Figures. Travellers in a Landscape. Shepherds playing in a Valley. Herdsmen with Cattle Cattle passing a Brook. PAUL POTTER. Cattle. Pigs. Landscape and Cattle. KAREIL DU JARDIN. Boy with Ass. Landscape with Animals. Cattle. Sheep. Italian Peasants. HONDEKOETER. Sea Fowl. VANDER HEYDEN. Dutch Town (two of this subject). RUYSDEIL. Windmill. HOBBIMA. Water Mill. Landscaj^. W. MIERIS. Dutch Family. A Repast. Fruit Shop. SCHALKEN. Dutch Game. Female by Candle-light. i The Painter and his Family, i DE HOOGE. j Card Party. I Female Spinning. i TERBURG. I Lady reading a Letter. I JAN MIEL. I Mountebank. ! MAES. The Listener. SLINGLANDT. Lady making Lace. POELEMBERG. Ruins ia a Landscape. VANDERNEER. Evening. Death of Cleopatra. Musical Party. W. VANDERVELDE. Sea Calm (two of this subject). Heavy Gale. Sea Shore. FACKHUYSEN. Coast of Holland. i WEENIX. Dead Game. VANDERWERF. Children with Guinea Pig. Roman Charity. Lot and his Daughters. FRANK HALS. Biu-gomaster. CLAUDE. Europa. BOTH. Philip Baptizing the Eimuch. GONZALES. Family of Verbeest. JANSEN. Charles I. in Greenwich Park. RUBENS. St. George destroying the Dragon. Man with a Hawk. Asstunption of the Virgin. Pythagoras (Fruit by Snyders) Farm at Lacken. Charles I, and Henrietta. VANDYKE. Study of Horses Portrait (anonymous) 174 LONDON INTERIORS. Christ healing the Sick. Marriage of St. Katharine. Duke of Buckingham Various Portraits of Ro^al and Noble Children. MYTENS. Charles I. and Family. WATTEAU. Masquerade. Royal Beggars. Courtship and Gallantry. Musical Party. Fete Champltre Vauder meulan. Louis XIV. and Attendants. Palace at Marly. Encampment. Battle. Robbers attacking a Caravan. Prince of Cond6. Building of Versailles. • , Louis XIV., with his Stafi.' ' Versailles. . . ' Louis XIV ."bringing np a Reserve. Party going but Hawking. VIVIEN. Portrait of Fenelon. NETCHER. William III. Princess Maxj of Orange. Peter the Great. HUDSON. Frederick, Prince of Wales. Queen Caroline, ZOFFANY. George III. Queen Charlotte. Interior of the Florentine Gallery. Exhibition of the Royal Academy, Sia J. REYNOLDS. Death of Dido. Cymon and Iphigenia. George III. Queen Charlotte. GAINSBOROUGH. Children of George lil- (several). COPLEY. Portrait of Lord Chatham. i DAWE. Princess Charlotte. SiB T. LAWRENCE. George IV. William IV. Prince George. \^ ALLEN. ''^ Breakfast Room of Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford. WaKIE. Public Entry of George III. to Holyrood Palace. In this catalogue, it wUlvbe observed that the great majority of pictures belong to the Dutch School, and to them, in any general question connected with the collection, the public attention should be confined. Truth of imitation, harmony of colour, and depth of chiaro-scuro are their prevailing characteristics. " The same skill," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, '' which is practised by Rubens and Titian in their large works, is here exhibited though on a smaller scale. Painters should go to the Dutch School to learn painting as they would go to a grammar school to learn languages." The higher branches of know- ledge are found in the works of Italy, so many of which decorate the private apartments of Her Majesty, both in London and at Windsor, Qyu T"^' Iivtidcn. T''jU;!ili(-(l lor ihc ftoTxictors ;3y J. Ivlead. 10, G- ^ii Cqn,j:e Feci Strc?<-i 173 KENSINGTON PALACE. THE SUSSEX LIBRARY. The Royal Palace of Kensington presents externally no single feature of architectural beauty, and the united effect of its iU-proportioned and incongruous divisions is irregular and disagreeable. Internally, however, it boasts of many nobly proportioned and chastely decorated rooms, and as these are in a lesser degree indebted to outline for their beauty, besides being totally independent of relative contrasts for their due effects, their repulsive character soon ceases to be offensive, and is forgotten in the recollection of those splendid apartments, which, for one hundred and fifty years have gratified the pride of kings, excited the admiration of artists, and in no small degree secured the comfort of learned men. In one of these rooms, too, our sovereign the Queen was born ; and here, in the oldest part of the house, she spent her youthful days ; — these alone are considerations which give the place an existence in the popular affections, and make it, ugly as it is, as welcome as the face of an old familiar friend. The buUding is of red brick, but of no particular period, being a heterogeneous mass of houses, halls, offices, galleries, &c. &c., which appear to have been added, year by year, growing with the growth of the distinguished families and privileged individuals by which they have been successively tenanted. The original house was the seat of Lord Chancellor Finch, afterwards Earl of Nottingham ; from his family it was purchased by King William III., who found in its sequestered character a suitable home for his gloomy and unsocial temper. By him, at the instigation of Q,ueen Mary, who imbibed his cold and apathetic disposition, it was greatly enlarged and surrounded by solitary lawns and stately gardens. Queen Anne continued to enlarge the house and improve the beauty of the grounds ; but it was by good Queen Caroline the most important additions were made in the erection of several suites of rooms in the Italian style, and in the introduction of ornamental waters in the park. During the reign of George III., the Court made St. James' and Buckingham House the head quarters of royalty, and then it was that Kensington Gardens became what it has ever since continued — the summer resort of the fashionable residents of London, and the house — the occasional or permanent residence of junior members of the royal family. To no one is the fame of the palace under such obligations as its last resident, the lamented Duke of Sussex. Under his enlightened care, it became celebrated as the depository I lor the finest theological library in the world ; with a renown no less extensive for the splen- I did hospitality shown to its learned visitors. This library occupies a corridor which formerly I connected the ancient with the more modern portion of the building, — a place very incon- I venient in its general proportions, but which was at lengtli made by various accommodations 174 LONDON INTERIORS. an accessible, and even elegant apartment. A glance at our engraving will show, better than description, its size, its fittings and the style of its furniture. In length it is about a hundred feet. The editions of the Holy Bible and New Testament occupy one entire side, and the smaller works and MSS. are arranged in the cases and presses beneath. Portraits of the Rev. S. Parr, D.D., and the Rev. Abraham Rees, D.D. — old bibliographical friends of the Duke — painted by Lonsdale, are placed over the doors at each end of the gallery, into wrhich the light is admitted through stained glass, from windows looking into the courtyard of the palace. Here, surrounded by 45,000 volumes of books, it was the custom of the Duke to spend his solitary and social leisure in the perusal or discussion of sacred literature, and in making annotations and paraphrases , which, in some cases have been known to exceed in extent the bulk of the books under review. In the discharge of these laborious pursuits he was fuUy mindful of the adage, that "much study is a weariness of the flesh," and being also very subject to cold, he contrived for himself a huge library chair, curtained round and covered from the air, in which he might read and think at ease. Released from these exhausting studies — Uke a child discharged from school discipline — he burst upon the social fellowships of the metropohs with a measure of hilarity which acquired for him the character of a free liver, rather 'than that which more properly belonged to him as the toil-worn student of the Bibliotheca Susseriana. In an account recently published by his able and accomplished librarian, Mr. Petti- grew, we are told that until about the year 1818 his Royal Highness did not appear in ; any prominent manner, either as a collector of books, or a patron of Uterature ; but the ; course of his life, and the confinement consequent upon the sickness which attended a. j considerable part of the earhest period of his career, had led him to cultivate a taste for j letters. At this time the library consisted of not more than 6000 volumes, occupying five ; rooms, and that small number in a state of the greatest disorder. It was then suggested i to his Royal Highness that some regular plan for their appropriate classification was neces- I sary, and this being followed up by a scheme for a catalogue by Mr, Pettigrew, the question j was discussed, agreed upon, and that gentleman solicited to xmdertake the duties of ] hbrarian, which, in his love for books, he at once undertook. | From this period, says Mr. Pettigrew, the library improved and increased rapidly — i faulty and spurious editions were rejected — deficiencies supplied — ^and, with the increase of collection increase of appetite prevailed, until it had risen with extraordinary speed into \ a most distinguished library. The manner in which the Duke entered into the labour j proved how strong was his taste for letters. He examined with his librarian all the sale \ catalogues of books ; he constantly consulted the best bibliographical works, and kept for | his private use abbreviated catalogues of collections either of the beautiful classical pro- ] ductions of the Aldusses, the Variorum and Elzevir Classics ; and, above all, lists of the ; several editions of the Old and New Testaments in his possession. In this way the Library [ was formed ; and at his death it consisted of nearly 50,000 volumes. ' KENSINGTON PALACE. 175 The Library is not confined to printed books ; there are many manuscripts, the chief of which are classical, lexicographical, and theological. The principal MSS., and the most valuable ones are the Hebrew, of which there are forty-eight. Some of these are what is called rolled manuscripts, being such as are used in the synagogues. These are without illuminations, for ornament in them is strictly prohibited. A Hebrew and Chaldaic Pentateuch of the thirteenth century, executed for some private individual, is one of the richest illuminated Hebrew MSS. in existence. And a fine MS. on vellum, of the twelfth century, of the "More Nevochim" of Moses Maimonides, is of the highest estimation. Among the Greek MSS. is a New Testament of the thirteenth century, with illu- minations both curious and valuable ; and another which contains a Life of Theodore the Studite, Bishop of Thessalonica, who died A.D. 828, is highly valuable for the light it throws on both the political and religious history of those times. In the theological department of Latin MSS. there are no less than sixteen copies of the " Vulgate" on vellum, besides various copies, of distinct portions of the greater and lesser Prophets. Two of these MS. Bibles are furnished with very numerous illustrations, one having nearly one hundred, and the other upwards of one hundred miniatures in gold and colours. One of the finest illuminated Latin MSS. is a Psalter of the 10th century. It was bought at Mayence, and from the painting seems to be of German origin. It is re- markable, that in the frontispiece representing Christ giving the benediction according to the Romish Church, the figure is taken, even at that period, from the youthful beardless model of the earliest Christian monuments in frescos and sarcophagi of the Roman catacombs, though in general it had been supplanted by the more modem, bearded model, first repre- sented inthe Mosaics, which we still see in the heads of Christ painted by Van Eyck and Mem- ling. As in most of the miniatures by German artists of this period, the opaque water-colours are bright, and in the ground as well as in the draperies a lively green is very much used. The missals, breviaries, hours, offices, &c. are both numerous and splendid}' many are illuminated in the highest degree. Among them the " Horae beatag Virginius," &c. is conspicuous for interest and beauty. The pictures indicate a Flemish origin, under the influence of the school of Van Eyck. In the heads and attitudes there is the greater variety, the better observation of nature •, in the colouring the freshness and clearness ; in the handling the softness without degenerating into the stippled manner ; qualities which distinguish the Flemish miniatures from all others of the same age. Of the French MSS. it is sufficient to notice " La Bible Moralizee", a beautifully ex- ecuted MS. of the 15th century, and in which, amidst innumerable letters and figures, there are eighteen miniatures in black and white. The painting is in the soft, tender, finely stippled, opaque water-colours, which the French miniattu-es of the second half of the fourteenth century acquired, chiefly through the encouragement of Charles II. and his brother the Duke de Berri. An ancient Italian MS., entitled " Historia del Vecchio Testamento," is very curious, 176 LONDON INTERIORS. and has 519 miniatures of rude execution, but interesting in the subjects. In the type, as well as in the whole cast, there appears a strong influence of the school of Giotto, in the manner, however, in which it appeared about the year 1400. We see by this MS. that the custom spread in France and the Netherlands from the 13th to the 15 th century, of making the contents of the Bible more generally known by pictorial representations, was likewise usual in Italy. The German, Spanish, Dutch, and English MSS. are comparatively unimportant, and need not be particularized. Among the Arabic MSS. there is a Dictionary in Arabic and Persian, several copies of the Koran, some with Persian interlinear versions. Armenian MSS. are of rare occurrence. One of them is a valuable copy of the Gospels, of the 13th century, upon vellum, curiously illuminated. It is of a date prior to that from which the first printed edition has been made, and belonged to an Armenian family long resident at Madras, where they settled, on their expulsion from Armenia by Tamerlane. It is highly esteemed by the Armenian Christians. There are also MSS. in the Pali, Burmann, Cingalese, and other Oriental languages, some of which are written upon leaves and plates of ivory. In the Printed Books, the Theological department is entitled to a decided preference ; and in this division the editions of the Old and New Testaments are the most conspicuous. There are all the celebrated Polyglots, in fine condition ; 74 editions of the Hebrew Bible ; 17 Hebrew-Samaritan and Hebrew Pentateuchs, and some portions of the Old Testament in Hebrew, of very great scarcity : two of these, the earlier and later prophets, with the commentaries of the Rabbi Kimchi, are among the rarest works of Hebrew typography, printed in the 15th century. The Bomberg editions, and the great Rabbinical Bible, are in the finest possible state, and exhibit the most magnificent specimens of Hebrew printing The Greek Bibles are nximerous, and of the most precious value. Of Latin Bibles there are more than 200 editions ; and of Bibles in other languages more than 1200 editions. In the Divinity classes there are the first Armenian, the first Irish, the first Slavonic, the first German, and the first Reformed editions of Luther ; the first French Protestant, the first Italian, the first Spanish, the first English Bible by Coverdale ; the first Great Bible, or Cranmer's ; the first Genevan edition, the Bishop's Bible ; the first Scotch edition : besides innumerable other editions of less historic value. Although the theological department is the richest in the Sussex Library, the other divisions of learning are by no means scanty in the specimens they afford. Indeed, the Classics, Lexicography, Chronicles, Law and Parliamentary Histories are of immense extent. Taken altogether, the library is a truly splendid one. It is one, which Mr. Pettigrew justly observes, has not been won by conquest, nor inherited by legacy, nor got together for purposes of idle ostentation. It was purchased volume by volume at tlie sacrifice of many an object of princely luxury and indulgence, from a pure love of knowledp-e. and a desire to impart it to those who seek it. i^oris: Gilbert A C:' Leipzig: T.Q.v:ci^el.- 177 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR's CHAPEL. To a fabric like Westminster Abbey, the artist may return again and again, since edifices of this class and style are so diversified, and complex in plan, that the interior of even a single one furnishes a great number of subjects for the pencil. Grecian architecture — as far, at least, as we are acquainted with it, was almost exclusively external, their most magnificent temples being of very moderate dimensions within, and presenting little more than the mere walls, with occasionally a few columns. Even Roman architecture, though richer and more varied than the other, in regard to internal arrangement and design, was somewhat limited in its resources. The interior of the Pantheon may be surveyed aJmost at a glance, — there is much to be examined, but nothing more remains to be seen than what presents itself to the eye on first entering. Widely different is the case with a Gothic cathedral ; there the dimensions of the whole are usually such, that the plan must of necessity be in some degree subdivided into accessory parts, which, however, so far from encumbering the building, or diminishing the idea of spaciousness, rather tend to increase the latter, seeming — and in fact, being — not taken away from the main space of the building, but so much added to it : — for what may be called division of plan, as regards the area bounded by the external walls, is also addition with respect to the interior. Thus, the nave is not contracted by the aisles being cut out of it, but the entire breadth of the church is enlarged by their being added to it ; and it is the same with many other parts, such as transepts, side chapels, &c. In making some remarks upon Westminster Hall (plate XLI.), we referred to the Abbey, and now in speaking of the latter building, we may, vice versa, have recourse to a similar mode of illustration by comparison. The Hall strikes by its immense spaciousness, there being nothing whatever to obstruct the view in any direction : on the contrary, the whole presents itself to the eye, in its fullest expanse and extent, even on first entering it. /he effect is fine — in that instance, extraordinarily so, and most impressive ; but then it is also limited : nothing is left to the imagination, which is, in a manner, confined by the boundaries which fix the eye to that single space wherein the spectator immediately stands; — there are no hints given, — no glimpses caught of parts seen indistinctly — now lost and then again coming into view — and beckoning on our steps, as lingering even while 178 LONDON INTERIORS. impatient to advance, we pause to contemplate those parts which are close to hand. There is scarcely any motion of perspective, certainly not that picturesque play of it, and conse- quently of light and shade, which resxilts from a certain degree of complexity of plan. What effect of the kind there is in the Hall, is derived solely from the roof, since there alone is that succession of parts so essential to effect of the kind, — ^producing the variety of apparent intricacy and confusion, where there is nevertheless perceired to be the most perfect regularity. Take away the roof, and the Hall becomes little more than a mere vacant space, without any relief of perspective. In the Abbey, on the contrary, and other ecclesiastical edifices of the same class, there is a very high degree of architectural picturesqueness, arising almost entirely out of arrange- ment of plan alone, independently of other circumstances, or of the actual features of design. If something may occasionally seem to be lost in regard to unity, more wUl be generally found to be gained upon the whole by that variety of interest which " custom cannot stale." An edifice of the kind is not one, but many : — one, as possessing a main interest in its general design, — many, as containing subordinate and episodical parts. Nor are these last always the least valuable in an artist's estimation ; for much as he may admire the "drawn- out" vistas of aisles and naves, he wiU frequently be more captivated by the " delicious bits" for the pencil, scattered in nooks and corners of the fabric, — each a study and a picture in itself. In architectural episodes of this kind, Westminster Abbey is by no means deficient, for the chapels at the East end, surrounding the choir and general apsis, form quite a cluster of them, from which one has been selected for the present occasion. In plate XXX. (Consecration of the Colonial Bishops) was given a view of the choir, and altar-screen, which last serves to exemplify some of the effects above alluded to, for instead of seeming to obstruct, or to reduce the space, it rather serves to make the vista appear more extended, the apsis itself being seen beyond, and in continuation of it. Over- he ad, the view is uninterrupted ; it is only below that it is intercepted by the screen : what then is that further space? — food at least for conjecture. We, however, wiU not tantalize, by conjecture, but say that behind the screen and its doors, lies what is the subject of the present •Plate. — Edward the Confessor's Chapel, with the rich-screened chantry of Henry V. and peeps into more distant recesses, forming altogether an unusually scenic composition, and a striking assemblage of architectural objects, to which the ablest pencil is imable to do justice, because it can represent them only as seen at one particular moment, and not as they show themselves to the eye on the spot, where the spectator's own change of situation imparts motion to them, by bringing them into continually varied combinations. This Sanctuary — as it may very well be termed, is no less interesting historically, than architecturally, for besides the shrine of the Confessor himself, and the elaborately sculp- tured pOrtal or screen of Henry V.'s mausoleum, there are many royal tombs within its precinct, riz: — those of Henry III., Edward I., Edward III., Richard II., and the Queens Eleanor WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 179 and Philippa ; of which it may be observed that, unlike most of the modem monuments in the Abbey — some of them strangely fantastic in design, — they serve to increase the general air of solemnity, instead of jarring with the character of the edifice. The shrine of the Con- fessor himself, is not only an object of curiosity to the eye, exciting admiration as a production of art, by the richness of its materials, and the beauty of its workmanship, but has been one of extreme reverence, devotions being performed before it, and annual processions made to it on St. Edward's day. Few saints have worn crowns, during their lifetime ; few kings — however unbounded their ambition in other respects, have aspired to the title of Saint and the honours of canonization, by their ascetism, and strict self-denying habits. Edward of England, and St. Louis of France, almost makeup the list; so that whatever may be thought of them as throned monks, more fitted by nature to rule a cloister than a kingdom, their example has not proved at all contagious. If in Edward's character, there were, despite his sanctity, many defects, there were also, many highly meritorious traits, among which not the least remarkable, was his conscientious scruples as to making free with his subjects money, and his aversion to burden the people with taxes, — a virtue, or a weakness, just as non-contagious, as that of superior sanctity, which last obtained for him, just a century after his death, the honour of canonization from Pope Alexander III., when his remains were placed (October 13th, 1163) in the splendid feretry or shrine, which had been prepared for them by Henry II., and which is usually supposed to have been the work of Pietro Cavallini, an eminent Italian artist of that period. Here, within the very heart of the edifice whose second founder he was, — Shaving began to rebuild it about the year 1050, and carrying on the works with so much diligence that the building was finished and consecrated December 28th, 1065, only a week before his own death, — were deposited the sainted reliques of the last Saxon king of the race ofCerdic and Alfred. Time has since wrought great changes both in the edifice itself, and in the royal shrine, for while the former has been again nearly rebuilt by Henry III. and his successors, who rendered it the magnificent pile we now behold it, the other has been neither augmented nor increased in splendour, but on the contrary is now reduced to comparatively a mere wreck of what it>was originally. Neglect, spoliation, and mutilation have done their work here : the rich mosaics and inlay work of the lower portion have suffered greatly, many of the tesserce having been picked out, either through mere mischievous wantonness, or the equally mischievous affectation of religious piety and antiquarian admiration, seeking to appropriate to themselves a precious relique or curiosity without much scruple as to mode of effecting it. Neither piety nor antiquarianism, however, have thought it worth while to make atonement for the injuries they may have occasioned ; that excessive warmth of admiration which induces people to pocket what they ought not even to touch, cools down prodigiously when it comes to the question if they shall put their hands into their pockets, for the purpose — not of slily slipping any thing in, but pulling out their contributions towards the I 180 LONDON INTERIORS. good work of repairing what has been defaced. In this case, the injuries sustained are not so hopelessly irremediable, but that something might have been done before now to repair 1,'nem, and arrest the progress of decay, by putting the whole into tolerably fair and sound condition, ere it be too late to think of doing so. Something, indeed, has been done, but of such kind that it had better have been left undone ; we allude to the incongruous super- structure in wainscot which has been raised upon the original stone shrine, and which consists of two miniature Italian orders (Ionic and Corinthian) La arcades, the upper of which contains the Confessor's coflSn, there placed by the direction of James II. Among other objects of interest to be here seen, are the Shield and State Sword of Edward III., and the coronation chair ; all which are introduced in the foreground of the view. The Chair itself is not particidarly remarkable, either for its material or design, it being only of oak, massive in form, with solid sides and back, the latter terminated in a gable shape. Apart from the circumstance of its being only used on the high solemnity its name expresses, it would not be considered very curious, were it not that it contains within itself — that is, jfixed into the framework beneath the seat, — the famed prophetic stone, or 'Stone of Destiny,' brought away from Scotland inl296, by Edward I. The mystic charm once possessed by this talisman may be — ^we wiU not say how great, but as great as ever it was ; yet, like most other ' very curious' treasured up reliques, it has less charm for the eye than for the imagination, being rude and uncouth in appearance : nevertheless it is still retained out of etiquette. One real gem of its kind, though generally not so much noticed or spoken of as it Reserves, is the fagade or the exterior of the monument and Chantry Chapel erected to Henry V., within a few years after his decease. Unless some of the decoration was afterwards added to the original work, the florid perpendicular style seems here to have developed itself all at ones in full luxuriance, some time before it displayed itself on a larger scale in the neighbouring structure of Henry 7th's Chapel. Embellishment is here carried to excess : the details are so numerous, so minute and so elaborate, that it may almost be termed architectural embroidery; yet such extravagance is more allowable in what in itself is but an ornamental compartment within a larger structure, than the same degree of it would be extended over the whole of a building of any size, as is the case with the exterior of the Chapel just above mentioned. In this instance the composition possesses, if not what can be exactly called simplicity, at any rate distinctness, and is, withal, rather peculiar in itself, owing to there being two octagonal turret staircases, which rise above the centre portion. The top of the last mentioned part now serves as a repository for a number of architectural models of Churches by Sir Christopher Wren, and other architects of that period. 181 THE ADMIRALTY. Very unlike the magnificent pile of biulding appropriated to a similar purpose at St. Petersburg, the Admiralty at Whitehall is so far from being as a building, of corresponding importance with that of the department of the exec ative whose business is here transacted, that imtil informed, few would take it to be any thing more than a large private mansion within an enclosed court-yard, — certainly wovdd not imagine it was the 'local habitation' of our mari- time and naval power, — the focus where its authority is concentrated. A foreigner would naturally expect to find the Admiralty not only superior to any other of our Government Ofiices, but superior to them in a very great degree, — some such a pile as Greenwich Hospital — ^not, perhaps, so extensive, but on an equal scale of magnificence, and no less dignified in character ; instead of which there is nothing monumental in its aspect ; though it may be termed large, its size does not show itself in such manner as to render it a con- spicuous object ; nor is it in other respects at all remarkable, for the side towards the Park would escape notice altogether but for the telegraph erected on one angle of it ; and so too would the Street, or Whitehall front, but for the singular deformity of what was intended to be the chief architectural feature, and but for what was afterwards applied in order to remedy that disaster — viz. the Portico and the Screen. The former of these is, in architectural language, tetrastyle, Ionic ; that is, consists of four Ionic columns, or rather columns with voluted capitals, hardly deserving the name of Ionic, wlule the columns themselves are of most unhappy celebrity on account of their preposterous proportions ; they being nearly half as tall again as the order allows ; and for a long time they were unique, until rivalled by those of the portico in the court of Furnival's Inn, — a piece of architectural design still more excruciatingly ugly. To conceal the unsightliness of Ripley's portico — occasioned, it is said, by that architect being directed whUe it was actually in progress, to give greater height to the building than was at first intended, which he could devise no better mode of effecting than by spinning out his columns to the required extent, — Adam, the fashionable architect of his day, was afterwards employed (about the year 1760) to erect the present screen. Unluckily, however, he committed a radical blunder — certainly an egregious oversight at the very outset ; for instead of so arranging his design as effectually to shut out all view of the lower part of the portico, from the street, and thereby cause the colimans seen beyond the screen to 182 LONDON INTERIORS. appear raised on a basement, which would reduce them to a proper height, he perversely, or if not perversely, most thoughtlessly defeated that purpose, by putting an open arch in the centre of the screen, directly facing the portico, as if with the express intention of preserving a view of it, as the choicest feature of the building. The consequence is, that the columns look now, perhaps, taller than ever, showing themselves both above the screen and through it ; from which circumstance results another disadvantage, namely, that those of the screen itself look more diminutive than they might else do, by being thus brought into immediate contrast with the lanky pillars of the portico. If it was originally intended that there should be solid gates to the arch, to be constantly kept closed, as at Burlington House, it would then be quite a different matter ; but it does not appear that such was the case, nor are gates shown in the elevation published by the Adam's, in the collection of their own designs ; and hardly would they have been omitted, if actually intended, because such parts are represented in other instances — ^whereas in regard to this subject, the only indication of there having been any such intention, is that the arch- way is filled up with shadow. At the time of being erected — and indeed long after, the Admiralty Screen was ad- mired as a more than usually tasteful piece of architecture ; nor can it be denied that it has " prettiness", and a certain showiness of effect as a composition ; but then to recommend it for its prettiness becomes as much a reproach as a compliment. It neither agrees in any way with the building to which it is attached, nor is it on a sufficient scale to be at all suitable as a frontispiece to a public edifice ; for it looks too much like a reduced copy of what was designed to be nearly double — or speaking more correctly, nearly four times the size — or about 250 ft. in length, by 45 ft. in height, instead of only 180 ft. by 22 ft. Prettiness was not the sort of expression here required ; but, on the contrary, that of dignity and of boldness — even though it had partaken of heaviness. Unless it could have been very much loftier, a colonnaded composition was ill-suited to the purpose, because the order must of necessity be diminutive, and so far, insignificant also. But, notwithstanding that so very much depends upon them, Adam — ^nor is he the only one chargeable with such error — seems to have given no thought to considerations of the kind, but to have looked at "Vis design only with an eye to its appearance upon paper, as a mere elevation, without regard to locality or any other circumstances. Placed either qmte by itself, or among buildings not all loftier than itself, the Screen would have looked of some consequence, whereas, standing as it does, it is positively dwarfish, and makes no efiect in the general street view ; which, we may remark, is also the case with Holland's screen faeade to Melbourne — now Dover House, a little further on, on the same side of the way. Though scenic in itself, and in a purer style than Adam usually displayed, the Admiralty Screen is, even as a composition, by no means free from defects ; nor even from gross solecisms. As far as the Doric colonnades themselves go, they are satisfactory THE ADMIRALTY. 183 enough, but not so the centre compartment forming the gateway; for it is poor in its general character, and too much cut up, especialJiy by the plain blank windows or panels in the piers, which, while they destroy width of surface, produce an appearance of poverty — of the absence of decoration rather than of richness. Another more egregious and evident de- fect is that over the arch, the architrave and frieze of the entablature, which is otherwise continued throughout, is omitted, and thus the entablature is maimed and mutilated in the very chief point of the design. It is true, the necessity for its being done is apparent, for even now the arch is by far too low, and is very bad in its proportions, but that only proves that the design required to be re-shaped in order to obviate that defect. When the Screen was altered about the time that the Duke of Clarence (William IV.) was Lord High Adnairal, instead of any of the defects in Adam's work being corrected, its chief beauty was destroyed, the centre column of each colonnade being knocked away, in order to make two carriage entrances, which are merely large square-headed openings, like coach- house doors. If convenience actually required that to be done, it should at least have been done after very different fashion, and not by such wretched architectural cobbling. For the length of these remarks, which it would be easier for us to extend than to curtail, we shall now make amends by brevity ; for, in truth, there is very little besides that calls for notice in regard to the Admiralty as a building. The interior offers nothing remarkable, uor do any particular ceremonies take place within its walls ; on which account the ' scene' put into the accompanying view of the Board-Room, shews merely the inci- dental occasion of a naval model being submitted to the Board for inspection. It is business, not ceremony, which is here the order of the day ; and business of the most momentous kind, connected not only with our naval achievements, but also with our extensive maritime explorations and discoveries, and with the advancement of those branches of science which contribute to them. Hence the geographical, or, to call it more accurately by the name it bears, the hydrographical department alone, is a very important and active one, as is Hkewise the semaphore one, or that which keeps up a constant telegraphic communication with the coast. Without any very extravagant stretch of fancy, the Admiralty may be said to be the mighty steam engine wliich sets in motion and gives energy to all the rest of the materiel and machinery of our naval power, and, consequently, contributes much to that of the whole empire. It is to our navy collectively what a single admiral is to a single fleet ; nor could anything but a perfectly well organized system, and one thoroughly disciplined in all its various business details, enable those who preside over the affairs of the Admiralty and the interests dependent upon them, to carry them on without the slightest check or interruption. Were it not for the eflicient contrivance of the system itself, stoppages and entanglements would always be taking place, in some part or other of the vast complicated machine, whereas, what now seems intricacy and confusion, is regularity and order. 184 LONDON INTERIORS. The authority and jurisdiction now vested in the Admiralty, were origifially exercised by an individual, a high OflBcer of State ; and the first upon record was William de Ley- bourne, ' Admiral de la Mer du Roy d'Anglettere,' in 1297. But it is hardly necessary to say that, at that early period, the oflSce must have been as different from the Admiralship or Admiralty of. the present day, as was the then infant navy from our present gigantic naval establishment. If, however, at that time in its infancy, the English navy was a very forward child — a sort of infant Hercules, for it began to lay claim to the sovereignty of the seas, and to demand that all foreign vessels should strike to its flag : — our John Lackland asserted his right to be considered, at all events, master upon the water. The office of High Admiral continued to be held by an individual until the early part of the seventeenth century, when, in 1632, it was, for the first time, "put into commission," or its duty and authority confided to a Board of Commissioners, consisting of all the chief Officers of State. At the Restoration, the Duke of York was appointed Lord High Admi- ral, and retained the office till 1684, when Charless II. took it upon himself; but James resumed it in the following year, on becoming king. The Revolution caused it again to be put into commission, tiU 1707, when Prince George of Denmark became Lord High Admiral, with an assisting council of four individuals — and on his death, in the following year, the Earl of Pembroke was appointed to succeed him, in similar form ; but within about a twelvemonth he resigned ; and from that time (1709) to the present, the office has always been in commission, with the exception of a brief interval, from May 1827, to the September of the following year, during which the title of Lord High Admiral was again restored in the person of the Duke of Clarence, afterwards William IV. The Admiralty Board consists of six members, styled the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, who are not, however, all of equal dignity and authority, for, besides taking official precedence of the others, the First Lord of the Admiralty has higher privileges and emoliunents than the others. While the salary of each of the latter is £1000, his is £4,500 ; and he is by virtue of his office a member of the Cabinet likewise. So far from being excessive, these salaries appear remarkably moderate, more especially when put in com- parison with salaries of another kind — ^pensions paid to persons for the arduous and responsible duty of doing nothing, unless it be, keeping quiet and holding their tongues. A Chef de Cuisine might possibly content himself with such a pittance as a thousand a year, accompanied with some snug perquisites attached to his office ; but a Prima Donna, or a modern Terpsichore, a Malibran, or a Taglioni, would turn up their noses with scorn at the offer of such a salary is that of the First Lord of the Admiralty, whose duties it may be presumed are somewhat more onerous in themselves, and more important to the public than are those of a Lord of the Bedchamber. i 18S ST. JAMES'S PALACE. Op all the royal palaces of England, that of St. James's is the one especially appronr: ated to Court parade, and its official ceremonies and functions. In fact, ' the Court of St James's, has long been a familiar expression synonymous with that of the British Court in its relations with foreign powers ; and in briefer form, 'St. James's' has been employed to express the quintessence of aristocratic dignity and refinement. The exterior of the Palace itself, however, is any thing but dignified, or even at all prepossessing in appearance : with the exception of the ancient gateway and clock tower over it, at the end of St. James' Street, whose somewhat monastic aspect contrasts strongly with the gay and modem look of the surrounding objects, there is little even to catch attention. The Park front has no arcMtectural character of any kind, it being a plain brick building, presenting nothing more remarkable than a long range of lofty sash windows. But there is no trusting to appearances, since even the most unfavourable ones may occasionally deceive, as well as those which are most alluring. Beneath this mask of almost quaker-like homeliness, all the pomp and circumstance of courtly etiquette in its stateUest forms, take place ; accordingly, high and dearly- prized is the privilege of obtaining access to the immediate presence of royalty, on such occasions, and in such a manner, that the pretensions of the privilege to the honour granted are formally recognised as valid. A presentation at Court is to many the height of ambition, and such event forms an im- portant epoch in the life of aristocratic beauty; for whom " The Drawing Room" possesses an irresistible, magic sound. And though the moralist may afiect to despise, the cynic to sneer at, and all good sort of people who philosophically abstain from " sour grapes," to have no aspirations for such empty pageants, there certainly is something not only most fasci- nating and imposing, but even soul-stirring, in the Drawing Rooms at our British Court. It is not the mere external splendour that enchants — for of that as great, if not a greater degree may be witnessed elsewhere and on other occasions ; but there is also something which " passeth show," to awe and elevate the mind. To speak of such a ceremonial as a mere show or masquerade, belongs to that cheap, self-satisfied sort of wisdom which recog- nizes no other sort of value in things than their intelligible every-day and marketable one ; and to regard orders and ribbons as only so many " bits of ribbon," is but a species of poor coxcomb stoicism; if not, as is far likelier, mere hypocritical affectation. If a ribbon, B B I 186 LONDON INTERIORS. conferred as a mark of honour, be of no more worth than the material itself, the same quantity of it purchased at any shop ought to be of precisely the same value in the eyes of all the world : let any one make the experiment, and he would then, perhaps, be quickly convinced of the very great difference between the two. Remove the force of opinion, by discrediting, as sheer vanities aiid idle gaud?, all badges of merit, ani symbols of honour, and society is reduced to a Lazzaroni state, in which it grovels contentedly in physical comforts and animal enjoyments. The high tone of refinement prevalent at a Court has unquestionably, if not a direct, a beneficial influence on the upper and middling classes of society ; and the value of such influence is proved by the absence of it in America. And even if refinement of that kind be often no better than external and superficial gloss, it is, at all events, preferable to the sincerity of undisguised coarseness. In every station of life courtesy, the virtue par excellence of courts, may be practised ; nor is there one, however lowly, which, when practised, it does not ennoble. — But a truce to sermonizing. While the ceremonial of a British Drawing Room is not an idle and unmeaning one, it presents a scene such as can be nowhere else witnessed, not even in the private circle of royalty itself, and one of which no adequate idea can be formed, except by those who have actually witnessed it. Here etiquette is observed d. la rigueur, and in such manner as almost to have a touch of sublime — if we may, without suspicion of irony, be allowed" so to express ourselves, for want of some more clear and satisfactory explanation of our meaning. Here, even the liistre of beauty itself is for a while overpowered, forgotten, and lost in the superior fascination of the scene itself, and of the courtly grace and dignity displayed in full force on such occasion. Add to this, not only the surpassing richness but the studied pomp of the ladies* dresses, and the unrivalled display of plumes and trains, and jewelry, — the last looking like the congregated gems of all the Indies. The present female Court dress may safely be afiirmed to be far more tasteful than that of any former period : it combines, in an eminent degree, gracefulness and elegance. The abolition of those two most preposterous fashions, hair-powder and hoops, has materially improved it, and without in the least diminishing its magnificence, has given it a degree of simplicity and ease in which it was before sadly deficient ; — and neither of those outrageous fashions will now, it Is to be hoped, ever come into vogue again, The regulations of etiquette prescribe trains, and for head dresses feathers and lappets, with jewelry d discretion, proscribing anything in the shape of bonnets or caps ; consequently, it is needless to say, that "drab-bonneted" ladies are not admitted to the Drawing Room at St. James's. However splendid and costly their attire may be on other occasions, nowhere — not even at Court itself — does the costume of the ladies show itself so distingue, and so rich ; nor is the adoption of it matter of choice, for the etiquette which exacts it in the one case, prohibits it in every other, unless by some special exception. It is, therefore, at a Drawing Room alone, that an adequate idea can be formed of the superb display of dress made by every one of the ladies present ; ST. JAMES'S PALACE. 187 and at a ftill Drawing Room the entire company has sometimes amomited to as many as two thousand persons, a considerable portion of whom have not only been present, but "presented" also. The Drawing Room 'par excellence of the season, is that held on the Sovereign's birthday ; which is not only more numerously attended than any other, but with additional solemnity. On that occasion, all the members of the Royal Family arrive in state, escorted by guards of honour ; also the Speaker of the House of Commons, the Lord Chancellor, and the Equity Judges, attended by their respective officers. The Lord Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench, the Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and the Chief Baron of the Exchequer, then wear their distinguishing collars of oflBce ; which, however, is a piece of etiquette first introduced at the Birth-day Drawing Room of 1842. Such Drawing Room is also what is emphatically termed a " Collar Day ;" the members of the diplomatic, ministerial, and household corps, all appearing in their respective official costumes ; and those of the different orders of knighthood wearing aU their badges and full insignia, whereas, on other occasions the ribbon alone is usually worn. Before the Drawing Room, the Archbishops and Bishops have an Audience of her Majesty in the Royal Closet, and on the Queen's entering the Throne Room, the actual ceremonial of the Drawing Room commences, and the precision with which it is conducted is not the least remarkable circumstance attending it. The Queen takes her station standing a little in advance of the throne, with the Prince- Consort and members of the Royal family near her, and then the cortege of the ladies and officials of the household ; on which, the presentations begin with those of the cabinet ministers, and foreign diploma- tic body, succeeded by the more distinguished personages who enjoy the right of Entree, and who have for the most part the additional privilege of standing in the * circle' during the whole of the ceremonial. On ordinary Drawing Rooms, the Queen does not stand in front of the throne but near the centre window ; and the throne itself is occupied by the Sovereign, only on occasions of addresses being presented by the House of Peers, the House of Commons, the Chancellor and members of the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and the Corporations of the cities of London and Dublin. The fullest Drawing Rooms ever known, were those held immediately after and in honour of the coronation of George IV., "WiUiam IV., and Queen Victoria. On such occa- sions the Drawing Room exhibits a more dazzling display of pomp than usual, it being customary for all the ladies of the rank of Peeresses to were their coronets, as at the coronation itself; which, as it may well be conceived, renders the whole assemblage not only more brilliant, but more august and stately in character. Since the reign of George III., the rooms at St, James's Palace appropriated to these state ceremonies, have been materially improved by being entirely redecorated in a richer and more tasteful style, than they were formerly ; and though, hke all apartments 188 LONDON INTERIORS. for such purpose, they have when empty, the look of being in some degree xmfinished and imfumished, and with nothing of what one terms an air of comfort about them, when filled with brilliant company assembled in the presence of the Soveriegn, the coup d'oeil presented to the eye, and the impression made upon the mind, are most striking and forcible. The ensemble then produced is truly magnificent, for the spectacle is one which partakes of moral grandeur, of generous and elevated feeling, and of lofty-minded loyalty. The Presence Chamber or Throne Room itself, is a noble apartment, now rendered worthy — ^which it hardly was formerly, of the Genius loci. Considered indeed, as a mere room, it is no doubt, exceeded both in size and in sumptuousness by many others, but it presents to the eye attributes of majesty and supremacy which may not elsewhere be introduced. Among its decorations may be accounted, Lawrence's celebrated portrait of George IV. in his coronation robes, also the two pictures of the battles of Vittoria and Waterloo, by Colonel Jones, which hang on either side of it. And there is the Throne itself, the chair par excellence of royalty and dominion — ^not a mere piece of furniture, the handywork of the ' cimning artificer,' but the palladium of the monarchy and constitution. After all, a throne, however splendid, is not the easiest seat in the world, not quite so comfortable a one as a homely easy-chair : no doubt such is the case, for the remark is a tolerably trite one, and happily it is also a tolerably true one. Every station in life has its penalties as well as its privileges : even the splendours and pageantries of a court are not unmixed enjoyment, they may be formal, they may be empty — they may re-echo, not loud but deep, the unwelcome truth of * Vanity of Vanities ;' yet however empty it may be, the parade of courtly representation is not half so ridiculous, nor so hollow, nor so wearisome as that fidgetting parade in ordinary life, ycleped Fussiness. THE BANK PARLOUR. When we speak oithe Bank, absolutely, and without further definition, all the j^orld knows that it is the Bank of England — ^itself known all the world over, that is meant. Its name is familiar to those who have scarcely even heard of London itself, — far more familiar than is its paper to thousands who are in-dwellers in London. Well known, too, to thou- sands are both the exterior of the Bank and its business ofl3ces, but all the rest of the interior is a perfect terra incognita to the public. Such, of course, is the case with what is called tlie Bank Parlour. Parlour ! strangely undignified and homely appellation for an apart- ment that would contain nearly half-a-dozen genteel drawing rooms ; or make a magnificent West- end Saloon ! This said Parlour, and also the adjoining South-west, or Garden Court, are among the few portions of the edifice which still remain as they were left by Sir Robert Taylor, Soane's predecessor as architect of theBank ; and both are highly creditable to him. The first men- tioned is a noble room, 6O5 feet in extreme length, 30 in breadth, and about 22 high ; is lighted by three elegant Venetian windows on its south side, which look into the court above mentioned. These windows are set within arcades, — whose heads are also glazed, whereby the entire aperture is greatly increased in height ; and corresponding with them, the opposite side of the room has three blank arcades or arched compartments, in each o* which is a marble chimney-piece-^that in the centre rather higher and larger than the other two. At each end of the room is a sort of loggia — if such term, for want of a more expressive one, may be applied, — the division being made, not as usually, by merely a couple of columns, but by three arches resting upon coupled Corinthian columns, and their entablatures. Now there are very profound critics who object to this, like Gervase Skinner, ' upon principle,' — ^persons whose stern architectural orthodoxy is scandahzed at the idea of combining arches with columns after such fashion, whether by making the former spring immediately from the capitals of the latter, or from a portion of the entablature by way a impost above the capital. They will gravely assure you that columns were ' originally intended to bear, not arches, but a continued horizontal entablature ; not choosing to perceive that ' originally,' makes a considerable difference in their argument, because it does not follow, that nothing ought to be or can be applied properly, if otherwise than it was done originally. Even some of these strait-laced critics themselves will swallow a camel, though 190 LONDON INTERIORS. they strain at a gnat, for while they are ihocked at the impropriety of columns supporting arches, thjy can regard with complacency, the utter architectural nonsense of a huge column, which, supporting nothing, seems itself unsupported and quite unsteady. A column is essentially a support or a prop, and as such just as capable of being applied to an arch as to a horizontal beam. But it will further be said by the ' strait-laced,* that in addition to the license or the vice of arches supported on columns, we here perceive that of coupled columns; on the enormity of which they will descant with abundance of rigmarole argument. Yet whether there be anything whatever in the actual design to warrant what, under opposite circumstances, might be more or less objectionable, is what they do not ask themselves, perhaps are incapable of doing so. In this instance, there certainly are circumstances which expressly called for the mode of treatment here adopted ; the two loggias most satisfactorily accord with, and keep up the particular architectural character derived from the arched Venetian windows. The columns, entablatures, and arches of these last, are repeated — ^not monotonously, but, with sufficient difference in the end elevations of the room; and the coupling of the columns there, has two circumstances to recommend it; one is, that the entablatures being carried horizontally over two columns, do not appear such mere fragments and blocks as when similar pieces of entablature are placed over single columns, in which case they have the look of a second capital added to the first one, and of course, so much added to the general vertical line of the column itself. The other advantage gained, is, that a sort of pier is thus formed by each pair of colvimns, and the motive for their being so arranged is sufficiently obvious. Also, as regards effect of a different kind, not a little is gained, since the arcades answer better to the idea of ' screens,' than columns alone would do, unless in such number as to afford more than three intercolumns — ^which is generally the extent of columniation in similar situations. Hence, again, another effect most valuable in the eye of an artist — the depth of shade within the * loggias,' which, instead of occasioning dulness or gloom, gives vivacity to all the architecture by powerfully relieving and bringing out the arches and columns ; and wherever effects of this kind are to be met with, they are all the more to be prized, because they are in general rather studiously avoided, than adopted when they present themselves. For ordinary rooms, indeed, this species of the picturesque in archi- tecture is not to be thought of; and prejudice is in favour of as much light and glare as possible, without any consideration for the interests of faded beauties, who discreetly prefer the modest shade to the * garish light of day.' Neither are the above all the piquant points, for there is one which cannot be well expressed in a correct perspective view of the room, namely, the vaulting and groining of the ceilings to the 'loggias,' which serve in no small degree to enhance their character, iind give more ' play' and contrast to the ensemble' Whether it would not be an improve- ment were the ceilings, and that over the centre of the room, to be painted white or cream THE BANK PARLOUR. 191 colour, instead of being, as at present, of the same hue as the walls, at least admits of question. Even for the walls themselves some better colour might be selected, for they are now of too sullen a grey. There are also some matters which bear more than could be wished the stamp of the mere fashion of their day — ^which is altogether a different thing from style. The stucco ornaments on the walls have more of the former than of the latter. These, however, are but slight drawbacks hardly worth taking exception at here, where there is so much to be pointed out for notice of a more favourable kind. Hardly can the Bank Parlour be termed a splendid room in the ordinary meaning of the epithet, since so far from being at all showy in itself or in its furniture, it is rather the reverse — particvdarly sober in appearance, and strongly marked by an air of dignified comfort. Without any of the trappings of upholstery — which, on the principle of "fine feathers make fine birds," are generally trusted to for making fine rooms out of four bare walls, this apart- ment relies entirely upon its architectural design for its character ; and what is more its character is not of a kind that falls upon the eye. Perhaps it owes much to a circumstance which does not exactly belong to the room itself, and which cannot be shown in any general view of it, — namely, the charming architectural scene furnished by the cortile before mentioned, and which is most admirably in unison with this interior — so much so, that it would almost seem to have been formed chiefly for the sake of completing the general architectural picture. Although it can by no means be called spacious, neither can this court be said to be confined, and so far from being dull — ^it is eminently the contrary, — elegant and cheerful, and even gay and brilliant — nay even radiant with light and beauty, when viewed on one of those propitious summer-days when we seem to have shipped off all our London climate and smoke, and received a cargo of Italian sun- shine in exchange. The Bank Parlour is the room of rendezvous for the Directors, and also that where they assemble in solemn council on matters which are as safe from being divulged by us, as if they were the Eleusinian mysteries. We may, however, mention one ceremony which takes place annually, on the 1st. of May, when all the clerks of the establishment, amounting to some twelve hundred and upwards, take their oath of allegiance, in this room, to the reigning sovereign. Although the Parlour is the principal ' room,' the Bank contains within the penetralia of its Western side, what looks like a labyrinth of lobbies, vestibules, corridors, in lengthened vistas and perspectives, conducting further than curiosity is permitted to explore. It is with a sort of fearful joy that one ventures to snatch a few hurried glances at what it would take an entire day fully to examine, so as to bear away in one's memory. This portion of the interior of the Bank is entirely by Soane, and as distinctly declares such to be the case, as if he afiixed his name to every seperate part. We here perceive his ingenuity, his contri- vance, his aim at effects, his happiness of resources on out-of-the-way occasions, and his — mannerism, vdth the strange contrast all his works exhibit, more or less, of fertility of 192 LONDON INTERIORS. ideas in some respects, and the utter sterility in others. Sir John Soane was chiefly great in little things, and in detached portions of his buildings, as is strikingly instanced in the exterior of the Bank, for while the bit forming the north-west angle of the pile is a perfect architectural, gem, the centre of the south or principal front is a complete failure, and will show to greater disadvantage than ever, now that it will be seen both in contact and in contrast with the portico of the New Royal Exchange. There the order ought unquestionably to have been upon a larger scale, so as to comprise the entire height given to that part of the facade by the very strange superstructure raised upon it ; nor would it be difficult to effect such alteration now, and besides enlarging the order, to improve the design of that portion of the facade. The original structure, erected by George Sampson in 1732, was a very common- place and mediocre piece of architecture, in what is called the Palladian style, — totally deficient, not to say false, in character. Of that building — which occupied but a very small portion indeed of the present plan, little now remains except the first court from Threadneedle Street, and the Pay-hall beyond it. Sir Robert Taylor, who was employed on the Bank from 1765 to 1785, carried out the south front, to its present extent, by tacking on to Sampson's building, (after a rather strange fashion) two wings of showy, but diminutive Corinthian architecture ; professedly copied from a composition of Bramante's in the Belvedere of the Vatican; but if good in themselves, not happUy apphed. Sir Robert was more successful in the interior, when he first erected the Rotunda, and dis- played in some of the public offices, ideas that were afterwards followed up by his suc- cessor Soane. The last-mentioned architect began his operations on the Bank soon after his appointment in 1788, and in 1794, completely startled the critics of the day by his Lothbury front, which was so thoroughly un-Palladian and anti-Palladian that it abso- lutely posed them. From that time it was proposed to form the Bank into one insulated mass of building, as we now behold it. It is not, however, perfectly quadrangular in plan, no two sides being of the same length, and the North and West of very much greater extent than the East one. In a volume of designs published by Sir John Soane himself in 1828, there are elevations of the Bank, and views of one or two parts of the interior; yet although it might be supposed — more especially considering the man, that he would have spared no cost to render such work a splendid monument of his professional labours, it is perfectly vile in execution, and some of the subjects are downright caricatures. But Sir John was a singular mortal — a triily marvellous compound of ostentation and mean- ness — of profusion and penuriousness — of the warmest enthusiasm and the most chilling apatl)y ' LONDON INTERIORS. THE EOYAL CLOSET, ST. JAMES'S PALACE. THE QUEEN GIVING AUDIENCE TO AN AMBASSADOR. Once the abode of our sovereigns, it being occupied by them as their metropolitan residence after the conflagration of Whitehall} St. James's Palace ceased to be their actual habitation in the early part of the reign of George III., when their Majesties took possession of Buckingham House, -which had been settled upon Queen Charlotte, as being more commodious, and better adapted for the domestic life of royalty in modem times, than an extensive, yet straggling, pile of building, offering more of grandeur than of comfort, in its interior. In consequence of that arrangement, St. James's was set apart entirely for public state occasions — for holding courts, levees, and drawing rooms ; also for giving extraordinary state entertainments, and for lodging foreign princes who might visit this country, as did the King of Denmark in 1768, when he resided there from August to October. A considerable portion of the building is appropriated to different branches of the royal family, who have here their respective establishments ; consequently, notwith- standing its aggregate size, the palace would, in its present state, be utterly inadequate to serve as the actual habitation of the Sovereign, the chief rooms in it being aU public ones ; nor could other accommodation be now very weU provided, except by planning the whole afresh, and erecting an entirely new edifice. There was some — danger, shall we say ? — of opportunity, if not actual necessity for a new St. James's being afforded between thirty and forty years ago, when the building was threatened with a fate similar to that of Whitehall; for on the night of January 21st, 1809, a fire broke out, which destroyed nearly the whole of the South-east angle, where were situated their majesties' private apartments, those of the Duke of Cambridge, some of the old state apartments, together with the French and Dutch Chapels. Had the flames extended Westward, doubtless the whole of the South or garden side of the palace would have been destroyed, even had the rest escaped ; bnt as such was not the case, and as it was not deemed expedient to rebuild the portion consimied — for which there was then L 2 LO^'DON liXTERIORS. little actual occasion — the building has remained within the limits set to it by that accident. It was, however, at the time, and since then has been more than once suggested, that a uniform fa9ade to the palace should be erected on that side of the structure in the Tudor- Gothic, or Old English style, similar in date to that of the older parts of the pile, but of superior character, and of palatial aspect. Projects of the kind have been put upon paper, and on paper they have remained, without, perhaps, even the authors of ihem feeling particular disappointment at finding their ingenious ideas rejected or laid aside, well know- ing that erecting magnificent palaces on their drawing board, is very much Uke that other and very popular branch of architecture ycleped 'Building Castles in the Air.' Quite unassuming in exterior appearance, the garden front being in a sort of no style of architecture — ^merely brick wall and sash windows — the state apartments of St. James' are not very much more striking within, if considered merely in regard to design and arrangement, being no more than an enfilade of four lofty and spacious rooms, so connected together by doorways, as to assume the character of a continuous gallery divided at intervals, rather than of so many distinct rooms ; and so far they are well adapted for their especial and peculiar purpose, inasmuch as the view from end to end is thus thrown open almost unobstructedly to all the assembled company ; and when they are so filled, in the presence of the sovereign, the efiect is not only magnificent, but even gorgeous. Nor is it to be understood from this, that there is little of positive splendour in the rooms themselves, such being by no means the case ; but merely that there is little which can be pointed out for notice in regard to any architectural features. At the western extremity of this suite, immediately beyond the Throne-room, is what though it cannot properly be called one of the public apartments, it being a sort of exclusive territory, the sanctum as it were of royalty, one room of more than ordinary importance, namely, the Royal Closet, the ' veritable cabinet of St. James,' where the sovereign gives solemn audience to foreign ambassadors. If walls could speak, these four walls might be able to disclose not a few diplomatic secrets, and to contradict not a few sagacious conjectures on the part of politicians. Yet speak they cannot, and every precau- tion is taken that shall have no ears. The conferences or audiences here held are strictly private, and conducted with the most rigorous ceremony ; not merely as formal interviews on business of state between the sovereign and subject, but as between one crowned head and the representative of another. On such occasions, no attendant, not even of the highest rank, is allowed to be present; — no one is allowed even to approach this chamber of audience, ofiicers being stationed at all the doors leading to it, with drawn rapiers. Seated at a small table, placed expressly for that purpose, with a silver bell upon it, Her Majesty receives the ambassador, who arrives in full costume ; and as the representative of another potentate or government, His Excellency enjoys the privilege of being seated in the royal presence, as is represented in our engraving — in regard to which it is almost THE ROYAL CLOSET, ST. JAMES S PALACE. 3 needless to observe, the figures are necessarily the work of the artist's imagination, as is in fact, the case in all historical painting; but all the rest — pictures, furniture, and all the still-life part of the scene, is an accurate representation of the room itself, and may also be relied upon for fidelity as to the ceremonial ; this last being conducted according to such measured etiquette in its every movement, that " every footstep might be marked on the floor." Audiences of this kind, so punctilious, so stately, and so solitary, and requiring more than ordinary presence of mind and diplomatic caution on both sides, were, perhaps, at first, somewhat embarrassing to so youthful a queen — for they are formalities to which her seniors, as being only queen-consorts have not been subjected; but with their first novelty must have passed away their awfulness also, supposing it was ever felt. Even where it is for little more than appearance sake — since the individual occasion is not uniformly of equal importance — it is essential upon the whole that etiquette should be strictly kept up, though the doing so may not happen to be exactly in accordance with the personal inclination of those who wear a crown. It is, if not dangerous, imprudent for princes to emancipate themselves from the forms which constitute a part of the duties of royalty, and which may be fulfilled without infringing upon the privacy of their leisure hours. In former times ambassadors used to be sent only on special missions, and in cases of emergency, but the modern system of keeping an established Corps Diplomatique at the various courts of Europe, has served also in some measure to preserve amicable relations between one power and another, that might else have been broken. It has also served to give a certain tone of high courtly dignity to the higher aristocratic circles of European society ; and it is certain that the members of the Corps Diplomatic — ambassadors, envoys, &c. , from foreign powers and potentates, contribute not a little to the splendour of our own Court on state occasions, by the pageantry which surrounds them, the magnificence of their official costumes, the splendour of their equipages, and the pomp of their retinue. Their carriages are generally most conspicuous in the line of procession to the Drawing- room, — sometimes striking by their singularity, but always by their superbness. Ambassadors are, in fact, the representatives of monarchs or independent States, and accordingly, not only have to maintain a proportionate degree of dignity, but enjoy high privileges and immxmities peculiar to themselves. Even among half-civilized nations the character of an ambassador has ever been held sacred, without which his important functions could hardly be discharged, or his due authority be maintained. In modem times, the persons, the property, and even the residence of an ambassador, are regarded as inviolable, the last being exempted from any legal search whatever, so that it has in some countries obtained the ' right of asylum.' Ambassadors are not amenable to any criminal tribunal of the country where they reside in such capacity ; nor can civil suits be instituted against 4 LONDON INTERIORS. them. The same privUeges are also extended to all their suite, and to the members of their family. An ambassador himself possesses also the right of demanding at all times, during his residence at the Court to which he is delegated, a 'private audience of the sovereign ; which is not the case with foreign envoys and ministers of lower rank. Yet, if so far inviolable and highly privileged, the Vice-Majesty of the ambassadorial office is no panoply against the shafts of sarcasm and satire. The malignity of wit — or, it may be, that of ignorance and dulness, has generally ascribed to the diplomatic character in the abstract, qualities almost the reverse of those which accompany real greatness of mind — consummate duplicity, unscrupulous though adroit tact, Jesuitical elasticity of what is called conscience, and a species of Jupiter- Scapinerie in manoeuvring — in short, a morality and philosophy peculiar to the office. This last, no doubt, requires talents that do not faU to every one's lot: a man must be born a diplomatist if as such he is to shine. He must possess both address and astuteness in an eminent degree ; must be never off his guard, but be at once equally open and impenetrable ; and be able in aU difficulties and reverses to be perfectly imperturbable, thereby vindicating for himself the princely title of ' Serene :' — a diplomatist and a demagogue are the very antipodes of each other. As to casuistical morality, however, the two characters may be pretty much upon a par with each other, and perhaps with the rest of the world, too. Finesse and artifice are by no means confined to the diplomatic sphere ; for were such the case, society, in all its spheres, would be very different from what it is. Manoeuvring is practised more or less in every professsion, and in every grade of life, only more bunglingly, and without that felicitous tact which sometimes wins admiration, though it does not conciliate esteem. F ROYAL CLOSET, ST. JAMES'S. ADDRESS OF THE ARCHBISHOPS AND BISHOPS TO THE QUEEN, ON HER BIRTH-DAY. Formerly it was the custom for royalty — some would call it its penance, to have to listen to Birth day Odes, magniloquent and windy ; but so prosy is the present age that poetry has been voted a drug, even at Court, and the ' Sacred Nine' have been banished from St. James's, wnere they used to strike their ' golden lyres on each auspi- cious natal morn.' It may not, however, be so much the want of taste for poetry, as an improved good taste and feeling in other respects, which has led to the rejection of set doses of poetic compliment, more especially as there was sometimes only a grain of poetry to a pound of flattery. Birth-day Odes, therefore, are now as completely out of fashion, as dedications d la Dryden, or epitaphs which would furnish an hour's reading. In fact, 'Laureate poetry' has become almost a bye word for pompous inanity and high- flown mediocrity — in short, about the same sort of stuff as 'Prize Poems;' so James Henry Pye closed the list of birth-day bards. Since his time, the only formal con- gratulatory birth-day address which it is now customary for the Sovereign to receive, is that from the Clergy, — that is, the Archbishops and Bishops, which is delivered in the Royal Closet, just before the Drawing Room commences.* This ceremony, which may be considered as private, is a more solemn than brilliant one, there being nothing in the costume of our English prelates that accomodates itself to the pomp of a court. Still the scene must be impressive to the mind, if not imposing to the eye ; and perhaps all the more impressive on accoimt of the external contrast, and the marked respect thus paid by the supreme authority of the State to the Church, in the persons of its ministers, who are allowed to approach the Sovereign thus confidentially. As may be supposed, the address itself is chiefly of a religious tenour, and otherwise pertinent to the occasion, without touching upon political and public events, as used for- merly to be the case. Nevertheless, as a congratulatory address on a day of marked festivity, neither is it too much in the memento mori strain. Of all born of woman, princes perhaps the least require to be reminded that they are mortal ; that they must one day resign their power to a successor, who perhaps long before he may be formally in possession of it, may • On this occasion the spiritual Peers are introduced into the Royal Closet, by the Lord Chamber- lain, who precedes them, bearing his sword of oflBce, and attended by the State Pages. 6 LONDON INTERIORS. be looked up to with eager anticipation. The mass of mankind, says Madame de Stael. see but dimly before them in the path of life : doubts, uncertainties, perplexities, inter- vene, so as to render the farther course of it vague and indistinct ; but princes, on the contrary, behold the whole of it, along a broad vista, terminated by one solitary obiect, which is no other than — their tomb. But we are now indulging a strain too much akin to that which we just now observed is not likely to be adopted, and shall be thought to prose no less tediously than gloomily on an occasion that does not usually excite particularly grave reflections, but rather calls forth joyous demonstrations of loyalty, and of attachment to the person of our Lady Queen Victoria. Perhaps, too, the dismal remarks we have above ventured upon may seem all the more inopportune and out of character, because in all human probability, her present Majesty is likely to be seated on the throne of England longer than even any of her predecessors ; yet for that very reason is it that we feel the less scruple in alluding to what a youthful Victoria can better bear to be reminded of, than would an aged and decrepid Elizabeth. Though not of the court, we have enough of courtly instinct to keep us from blundering by blurting out any particularly mal-a-propos reflections. How those of an Archbishop may be worded on such occasions, we take not upon our- selves to say, yet if ever so little agreeably, it is earnestly to be hoped that Her Majesty will have to listen to them for many and many anniversaries of the day and the occasion. The avoidance of pohtical topics in such addresses on the part of the Church, as represented by the spiritual peers of the realm, is judicious ; for though Church and State are united in their interests, it does not altogether become the ministers of religion to concern themselves with the party politics of the day ; from which it rather behoves them to keep as much as possible aloof, especially when there are those who would estimate their religious sincerity in inverse ratio to their political zeal. Happily the Protestant Church of England has avoided one of the great stumbling- blocks in that of Rome, from which so great detriment to religion has there arisen. Among us, churchmen are entrusted vfith no authority in temporal matters of the state : we have no such anomalies as ecclesiastical statesmen and diplomatists, — ministers of religion openly serving and devoted to the mammon of temporal power and worldly am- bition. Where professions so incompatible are united, the temporal one almost invariably proves by far the stronger of the two ; and instead of the ecclesiastic elevating the states- man, and adorning him vnth greater moral grandeur, the statesman lowers — not to say debases, the ecclesiastic : the latter character becomes merged in the former, perhaps even to the extent of its outward decencies being forgotten. When England was in communion with the Church of Rome, she, too, had prelates invested with power as statesmen and ministers, or else intriguing in subordinate posts ; but since the Reformation she has had no Wolseys ; nor has it been her fate to have to ROYAL CLOSET, ST. JAMES'S. / endure Richelieus and Mazarins. Neither do the higher order of our clergy otfer any examples of such worthies of the Church as was the celebrated Cardinal de Bernis, whc has been described as being a poet, without any imagination ; a statesman, without any talent ; an ecclesiastic, without any religion ! Though participating in the great council of the nation, the prelates of the Church of England do not render themselves conspicuous in secular affairs of state, much less do they derogate so far from their own sacred office and duties, as to aim at direct power and influence, by holding any sort of office in the executive government. By ambition of that kind being entirely cut off from them, both their order and the Church itself are spared many scandals that would arise under a different system. Grossly — almost incredibly inconsistent as it now appears, the time has been when churchmen and prelates frequently took the lead, not only in pohtical affairs and matters of state government, but in military ones also. In the goodly " olden times," when the Church was armed with other weapons than spiritual and merely figurative ones, a soldier -bishop was by no means a very unusual character, though a most portentous one, being a sort of moral centaur made up of the most incompatible elements. Surprising as this may be in itself, it is not at all surprising that under such circumstances the priestly character should frequently have been altogether lost sight of and entirely obUterated, or that a mitred apostate from his holy functions Jind from the altar should have cast off all restraints, and sunk into the sanguinary tyrant, or brutal ruffian. Neither is it surprising that there should have been warrior bishops in ages which furnished examples of warrior popes — still more heterochte and heterogeneous ; for what did not shock in the conduct of the immediate successors of St. Peter, might very well be tolerated in their subordinates and delegates : what the tiara sanctified could hardly disgrace the mitre. Happily, both for the cause of religion and that of humanity, the instances recorded of the conduct of many ecclesiastics during what some are pleased still to term the ' palmy days of the Church,' now read like fictitious legends, fitted only to serve for effect as 'gtirring' episodes in a modern romance, or a scene in a modem melo- drama. "We still acknowledge a church miHtant ; but a church military is a monster now unknown in any part of Christendom. That observations of the above kind may seem all but utterly inapplicable to the occasion, and to the subject of the engraving, from which they have led us quite astray, must be acknowledged ; but in the absence of more direct matter for comment or explana- tion, they have suggested themselves to our somewhat wayward fancy, and we have thereby escaped from touching upon more delicate ground ; nor does it come within the province of a work like ours, to enter upon topics where we might commit ourselves in the opinion of those who entertain different feelings in regard to them. The subject, indeed, is rather barren of description ; for while the apartment is iden- tically the same which is shown in the preceding plate, the ceremony speaks for itself 8 LONDON INTEKIORS. and leaves nothing for the pen to explain. If there be anything calling for additional remark, it is that a more complete idea of the room is obtained by its being represented in two different points of view. In the first of the two plates is shown the West side, or that facing the chimney-piece, and the door communicating with the Pages' Ante-room ; in this second one, the chimney-piece itself, and one of the doors immediately opening into the Throne-room, at that end of it where the throne is placed, in a corresponding situation with the chimney-piece in this Royal Closet. We would further call attention to the varied interest given in this instance to the same architectural subject, by the different manner in which it is peopled — ^and that not by figures introduced arbitrarily as mere accessories — perhaps altogether unconnected with the place itself, but such as are bonft fide actors in it, and which may be said to tell the story of the building, and identify it in a manner at once persnicuous and impressive BANK OF ENGLAND. riVE-POUND-KOTE OFFICE. Twice already have we ' drawn upon' the Bank of England, wliich, although noted for containing far more sovereigns than subjects, possesses not a few of the latter, — subjects we mean, well adapted to the pencil, though rather barren of material for us who hold the pen. Of the building generally, some accoimt has been given along with the view of the Rotunda, and also of the very interesting business transacted in that apartment, — viz. the Payment of Dividends. Again, in speaking of the Bank Parlour, we there foimd ample matter for description and comment , yet such is by no means the case on every occasion when it is our duty to usher the reader into different parts of one and the same edifice. In regard to the interior of the Bank, scarcely anything at all has been made known in other publications by means of engravings ; neither has the architect. Sir John Soane, supplied us with aught amounting to tolerably satisfactory information or illustration, — certainly has said nothing to explain his own ideas and motives. We have heard, however, that it was atone time his intention to bring out a complete architectural description of the Bank, fully illustrated by all requisite drawings of every kind. Such a work would have greatly assisted us on the present occasion, if only by enabling as to point out more clearly the ' whereabouts' of the Hall shown in our engra- ving, and the route leading to it. This last lies through an extensive line of corridor, running northward from the Pay Hall facing the entrance from Threadneedle Street ; and it is in itself by no means the least striking part of the interior ; yet of such sort that it would be hardly possible for the pencil to convey a correct idea of the peculiar impression it makes, it being rather as a succession of architectural scenes, than as a single one, viewed from any one single point, that it captivates the fancy. It might, indeed, be not improperly described as a series of architectural studies and experiments, and as such it offers many novel and cleverly contrived effects, and not a few valuable hints and ideas. Of its author's talent and taste, it affords a characteristic and very fair sample, offering as it does, together with original beauties and happy touches, the most glaring inconsistencies and defects of design which almost the veriest tyro would have kept clear of. Striking, for instance, as are at the first glance the open loggia of five arches, and the view from it into an inner sunk court, admiration of them abates very quickly, since almost the very next glance 10 LONDON INTERIORS. breaks the spell. What when glimpsed at promised to be a rich bit of architectural scenery, proves on inspection to be a very abortive, unfinished piece of work, where patches of Corinthian architecture are embroidered upon ordinary brick walls ; and even were the whole entirely of stone, the bare and ill-proportioned windows would be quite out of cha- racter with the style aimed at. Similar inconsistencies and offences against the commonest rules of architectural syntax occur in the other courts within the building, with the exception of three sides of the garden-court, by Sir Robert Taylor, which was pointed out with approbation in the account of the Bank Parlour. Poor excuse for the architect is it to say that in such situations, inattention to convenances of design, to consistency of character, and keeping, is of no importance : in cases of the kind, situation may be alleged as a sufficient reason for making no pretence at all to architectural decoration, yet if once begun this last ought to be carried out consistently, according to the degree of it which may be professed. So far from being at all justified by considerations of economy, it is the reverse of economy in every respect, to introduce any superfluous embellishment, where all besides is restricted to the utmost plainness ; otherwise instead of embelhshment producing richness, the plainness will strike as meanness, and cause the other to appear ridiculous. A quakeress's drab bonnet is, as such, all very well ; but either stick a buncli of artificial flowers on it, or deck it out with a veil of Brussels' lace, and it at once beconu?s a most extravagant absurdity. Somehow or other the * women-kind' understand matters of the kind, — the propriety of uniform decorum — much better than do other architects, much as they preach about proportion, who lose sight of it altogether when it should guide them in apportioning its due degree of finish to every part of a composition, and every feature in it. The neglect of such proportion disfigures more or less almost every thing that Soane diet : fertile in ideas, he rarely exhibited them except merely in the rough, scarcely ever working them out, or if he did, it was only fragmentarily — here and there in bits ; wherefore they show themselves too much like the ' nick-knackeries' of his Museum — a sort of omnium-gatherum and oUa podrida. Considered as his architectural scrap-book, the interior of the Bank is highly interesting : it is a collection of architectural episodes — some of them very charming, but no regular architectural epic. Of such episodes, the corridor leading to the Five-pound-note Ofiice exhibits not merely one, but several, all of them supplying as studies much more than what immediately meets the eye. The apartment just mentioned, and forming the subject of the accompanyint>: engraving, was originally built for the business of One and Two-pound Notes, at which time it used to be occupied by one hundred and twenty-eight clerks. Its dimensions are considerable, being 95 feet by 38, and 88 in height, yet, independently of its size, is not of very striking architectural character, — far less so, in fact, than some of the little bits and pet whims which the architect introduced in his corridors, lobbies, and other BANK OF ENGLAND. 1 1 places of that kind, for his fancy seemed to expand and shoot forth in proportion as he was cramped for space. Here we have nothing of that peculiar and decidedly picturesque expression which takes place in those offices and apartments which are lighted either entirely or partially from above ; this one is lighted, not only from the side, but on both sides ; therefore, with plenty of light, there is very little effect of it ; and being attached to the piers between the windows, the columns are comparatively lost and thrown into shade. The columns and windows, again, do not at all harmonize with each other, for whatever there is of classical pretension in the former, is totally forfeited by the latter, which certainly do not afford evidence of any study of, or any feeling for, the antique. The floor is entirely occupied by the desks for the clerks, of whom there are here about sixty employed solely in posting Five-pound notes issued for circvdation. These notes first came up in 1794, previously to which there were none of lower value than £15 and £10, consequently the business of this department, and also of that for engraving and printing notes — operations carried on within the Bank itself, — has been greatly increased, although it is considerably reduced in comparison with what it was during the circulation of one and two-pound liotes, or from 1797 to 1822. Still it does seem astonishing that the mere issue of notes should keep such a number of persons in employment; it is, however, sufficiently accounted for, when, according to official statements it appears that twenty-seven millions and a half sterling have been in circulation at the same time in the form of notes.* Taking the entire establishment, that of the Bank of England is so populous, as well as popular a one, as to form quite a colony — to which, if we add those of private banking- houses where the number of clerks varies from about fifty to a hundred, Bank-clerks and Bankers' -clerks constitute a tolerably numerous class. As such they have no very prominent characteristics, and certainly no offensive ones ; they patronise omnibuses and Islington, and other rus-in-urbe-ish places which fringe the great metropolis, and infringe upon green fields. They have a taste for the rural — keep pretty gardens, and pride themselves on their prize tulips and dahlias ; which are commendable traits enough. Though rather men of figures or figuranti than men of letters, they are great scribes, and write much more to the purpose than do we scribblers : their style is laconic, and pithy, the very reverse of the mys- tifying tautology of the lawyers, — rather monotonous, perhaps, yet, no matter, since the * No person is admitted as a Clerk who is under 20, or above 25 years of age. The salaries commence at £50, and range up to an average of about £300, exclusive of perquisites, which render them in many cases far above their nominal value ; particular appointments have, of cour-e, much higher salaries attached to them. Except with regard to these last situations, promotion is according to seniority. The Clerks have a Guarantee Fund among themselves, for the purpose of aflfording security, when required by the Bank. There is also a Widow's Fund, to which all contribute — married men never more than £4 per annum, — unmarried not more than £3. From this Fund widows are allowed £20 per annum. 12 LONQON INTERIORS. most captious of critics never find fault with it. Of some writers of this class, the names nave circulated far and wide, and have been every where popular : and although biography • has been so graceless as to take no note of it, that of Abraham Newland was a favourite one with all classes of the public, and with all parties. Abraham was for many years part and parcel of the Bank of England, during twenty-five of which, when he was its Chief Cashier, he never slept beyond its walls, until he resigned his ofiice in 1807, having at that time accumulated a fortune of £130,000, — a sum that sums up no ordinary degree of mortal worth. Biography, however, may be forgiven for not having given the world the full-length portraiture of a life less marked by enterprize than by enduring patience and plodding per- severance. The progress of a horse in a mUl, is but a faint type of such an existence. The ' Adventures of a Guinea,' or of a Bank-note, would be far more stirring and full of excitement than Abraham's. Still there are instances proving that even the atmosphere of a bank does not entirely check all other ambitions and aspirations than the Midas ones for gold. Literature and the Muses have had among their votaries ere now both Bankers and Bankers' clerks ; among the former we can point to the elegant historian of the Medici> in the person of William Roscoe, to an eminent botanist and antiquary in Dawson Turner, to a favourite poet in Samuel Rogers — ^who further enjoys no small degree of bon-mot celebrity, and has, we suspect, been made to father not a few puns and witticisms of other people's inveniton. Bernard Barton may serve as an instance of the other class : neither his clerkship in a banking house has preserved him from the contagion of poetry, nor his Quakerism deterred him from indulging in flirtations with the Muses. Poetical numbers and arithmetical /^fMres have occupied him by turns, and he has written in annuals and magazines, as well as in ledgers and cash-books. Of another bard we will not disclose the name, but content ourselves with subjoining, by way of finale, the following characteristic stanzas : — " The banks of Tyber, Tagus, Thames, Are famed both in prose and rhyme, And those of Isis— also Cam's Have been bepraised fu'.l many a time. " The banks of Wye, of Esk, of Dee, Are all with varied charms replete, Yet of all banks, the Banks for me, Are those of charming — Lombard Street. " Sweet are the notes of ' feather'd quires, — The notes of birds, bards highly rank, — M But most of all, your bard admires, A guire of no/es of England's Bank." _ 13 THE STOCK EXCHANGE. Of all the markets of London, not excepting even those of Leadenhall and BiUings- gate, by very far the most important is the Money Market ; one, therefore, virhich it may be supposed never lacks customers, were it not that bargains in it must be paid for in kind. It is a sort of Smithfield, with this difference, that whereas this last is the mart for Live Stock, the money one is for Stock in the funds. Instead of cattle being sold in it, it is frequented by biped ' Bulls' and ' Bears,' who there drive bargains vdth each other, — a strange mystery, which may, perhaps, hereafter give rise to sundry profound speculations, and to the idea of such denominations having had some mystic astronomical meaning, connected with the sign Taurtis and Ursa Major. It might be expected that the business of this Market would be transacted witliin some gorgeous fabric, announcing itself to all from afar : but no, — on the principle, per- haps, of good wine needing no bush, — the Stock Exchange hangs out no sign. So far h it from seeking to entice custom by showiness of appearance, like the plate-glass fronts o! some of our modern shops, that it affects an unusual degree of plainness, and instead of standing forth to public gaze, it modestly and coyishly retires to the rear of the neigh- bouring buHdings, where it stands at the extremity of a cul-de-sac, called Capel Court ; the entrance of which is through the front of the New Alliance Office in Bartholomew Lane. This Exchange is therefore opposite neighbour to the Bank, and nearly next door one to the Royal Exchange. About the beginning of the last century, when Stock-jobbing was in its infancy, transactions in it used to be carried on at a noted coffee-house in 'Change Alley, known by the name of ' Jonathan's.' Garraway's used also to be frequented as a place of resort and rendezvous by stock-jobbing adventurers. At length, the Brokers determined to erect a subscription room of their own, which was built in 1773, and named the Stock Exchange. That, however, being found insufficient for the purpose, another building was begun on the present site, and, as the inscription deposited under the foimdation stone, says more to the purpose than inscriptions of the kind generally do, we shall here copy it. " On the 18th of May, in the year 1801, and the 41st of the reign of George III., the first stone of this building, erected by private subscription, for the transaction of busi- ness in the pubhc funds, was laid in the presence of the proprietors, and under the direcy 14 LONDON INTERIORS. tion of William Hammond, William Stur, Thomas Roberts, Griffiths Jones, William Gray, Isaac Hensley, Robert Lutton, J. Bruckshaw, J. Capel, and J. Barnes, managers ; James Peacock, architect At this era, being the first year of the Union between Great Britian and Ireland, the public Funded Debt had accumulated^ in five successive reigns, to £552,730,924. The inviolate faith of the British nation, and the principles of the Con- stitution, sanction and secure the property embarked in this undertaking. May the blessings of that Constitution be secured to the remotest posterity !" In regard to the building, this inscription completely settles one point which is not unfrequently left very doubtful, since it furnishes us with the architect's name — a name, by-the-bye, that strikes somewhat as a misnomer, or contradiction with reference to the fabric itself, there being in the last as little of * peacock' quality about it as can well be imagined. One would rather fancy it to have been designed by one of the * lame ducks' about 'Change. It appears, moreover, to have undergone considerable alteration since it was first erected, — at least in the inside. Ionic columns have there taken place of the piers and arches shown in earlier views of the interior. It must still, however, be content with the very equivocal sort of praise which has been bestowed upon it, that of being ' very neat,' — ^which, when applied to a building, or a design, is usually a civil expression equivalent to ' passably dowdyish.' At all events, description or further comment would be here superfluous. Little as it possesses of architectural dignity or taste, this room is the great Money Market of the coimtry, the scene where are transacted bargains amounting to millions. The rise and fall of Stocks are watched with the most intense anxiety, every one endea- rouring to profit by the fluctuations in the market, and make his speculations accordingly. In causing such fluctuations, politics both foreign and domestic have no small share, and the Stock Exchange may be regarded as a sort of political thermometer of the country. W^ars and rumours of wars, successes and reverses, changes in the policy of other govern- ments, — all more or less affect the Money-market, and the price of Stocks. Hence the ^reat interest attached to political news, and to obtaining the earliest communication of it ; hence, too, the not unfrequent fabrication of what is called ' a piece of Stock-jobbing news,' expressly intended to produce either a rise or fall in the Stocks, of which advantage may be taken by those who contrive it. Stock-jobbing is, in fact, more or less a species of gambling, — at least is made such by many, and is pushed to a very great extent. Therefore, as may be supposed, those who play at such a game for heavy stakes, must sometimes be losers to a very great amount. Defaulters of this kind, who have made bargains which they cannot fulfil when the time for settling them arrives, are technically said to be ' lame ducks,' and ' waddle out of the alley,' in piteous plight ; for the fre- quenters of the Stock Exchange have a sort of vdt, and also of figurative language, pecu- liar to themselves. We have already borrowed two terms from their vocabulary, which sound THE STOCK EXCHANGE. 15 very fanciful to those who are unacquainted with their metaphorical meaning, viz. ' Bulls' and 'Bears;' but they evince some degree of humorous propriety when it is explained that the former are so denominated because they raise or toss up prices in the Money Market, and the latter because they endeavour to lower them or bear them down. These ' Bulls' and ' Bears' are those concerned in what are called time bargains, that is, bargains to deliver stock on a certain day at a certain price, let the actual price current be then what it may ; the ' Bull, or buyer, beheving that it will rise, and being interested in its doing so ; the ' Bear,' on the contrary, that it will fall. These bargains are made for certain days, termed settling dags, of which there are eight in the course of the year, fixed by the committee of the Stock Exchange. The settlement, however, does not usually consist of any actual payment of Stock, but merely of the payment of the differ- ence, by the losing party ; who, if he does not make good his engagement, becomes — whether Bull or Bear — a Lame Duck ; he waddles' away, and his name is ignominiously posted for a certain time in the Exchange. As payment of such time bargains cannot be legally enforced, but depend entirely on the point of honour, there is no other check against the evasion of such agreements than the fear of disgrace, of the loss of credit, and of exclusion from the Stock Exchange. Of mere Stock-brokerage the business is comparatively simple ; when a person wants either to buy into or sell out of the funds, that is, either to purchase or to sell so much stock, he usually employs a broker, whose profession it is to manage such transactions, thereby saving to individuals a great deal of trouble, and also of perplexity to those who are unacquainted with the forms to be observed. For this the broker receives one-eighth per cent, or half-a-crown for every hundred pounds, on the sum so transferred ; this seems a very trifling remimeration for the service performed, — and in small transactions, a very inadequate one ; but in larger ones, when tens of thousands are thus negociated, the brokerage becomes considerable, although the transaction itself occupies no more time than the smallest one. Upon certain denominations of Stock, however, the brokerage is very much higher; on Bank Stock, for instance, it is nine shillings for every transfer vmder £25, and twelve shillings if above that amount ; for that of South-Sea Stock it is ten shilHngs, if under £100, and twelve shillings if above it ; and for India Stock of any amount, it is thirty-two shillings. A single transaction of the kind may therefore produce a very hand- some remuneration to the broker ; nor are they of rare occurrence, since there are many persons who are continually * dabbling in the funds,' buying in and selling out alternately, from time to time, according as the prices of Stock may bf in their favour. For such persons, the " Money Market and City InteUigence" is by far the most important and interesting part of a newspaper ; leaving the Court-newsman's Chronicle, and fashionable tittle-tattle to others, — together with faux-pas in high life, and accidents and casualties in low life, their anxious inquiries are directed to the state of the Funds as reported m I 16 LONDON INTERIORS. daily bulletins. They know to a fraction the exact value of every species of Stock, or of Shares. They feel the pulse of Consols day by day ; they will tell you if unfunded Secu- rities are getting better or worse, and how many farthings per day is the rate of Exchequer Bills, — whether it is Ifd or l|d. They are learned in 'Active Fives,' or 'Passive,' or Peferred ;' ' Old South Sea,' and ' New South Sea,' ' Portuguese,' ' Mexican,' ' Colum- bian,' ' Spanish,' and other Bonds, — as if every country in the world was in a state of bondage and clanking its fetters, — are to them familiar household words, although an unin- telligible dialect to those who are not initiated into the freemasonry of the Money-market. Our readers will hardly expect from us any thing like a formal statistical account of the system of the public Funds, or of the arcana and mysteries of Stock-jobbing However dense may be the darkness that enshrouds all the rest, one point is as clear as the sun at noon-day, namely, that it is a game of speculation, at which all cannot win,. — albeit some individuals may be particularly distinguished for their ' winning ways,' — but, of course, it is all sheer good luck. — As we have not the entree to the Stock Exchange, nor any dealings whatever there, so neither do we venture to specidate on the proceedings there, or on the characteristics of those who frequent it. From all we have heard, we should guess that they are not of the Chesterfield school, nor very nice observers of those graceful cour- tesies and charming petits soins " Which gild the liakg that mau eDchain to man.' It is not gilding but gold which is the grand object of pursuit with those who minister in this fane, where presides Arithmetic with her mystic daughters nine, the Arabic numerals — each one of far more worth than twice nine Muses. — Whether ancient Greece had ever a Stock Exchange, is not now remembered, but modem Greek loans are not likely to be forgotten in the annals of our English money-market. Ji-Melvillc. i :y::-a,, 17 GOLDSMITHS' HALL. THE GRAND STAIRCASE. Among the Civic Companies or Guilds of the City of London, that of the Goldsmiths' is in some respects the chief, not only on account of its great antiquity, and its wealth, but because it keeps up far more of ancient state and etiquette than the rest, and its enter- tainments are, if not more luxurious in their cheer, conducted with greater magnificence. It is, besides, with the exception of the Apothecaries' Company, the only one which stiE continues to exercise any of the functions of its ' craft,' it still retaining the privilege and carrying on the business of assaying and stamping plate, which is done in the ground floor rooms, in the rear of their biiilding. Though it would seem that the Goldsmiths' art would be one of the latest in the pro- gress of civilization and refinement, its productions being articles of mere show and luxury, and not of use ; yet such is by no means the case. In the earlier stages of society, personal ornaments or other articles formed of the precious metals, constituted a principal portion of wealth, and were the chief marks of distinction. For mere luxuries of any other kind, wealth was then nearly useless, there being scarcely any which it could pur- chase, if it would. Besides the precious metals always represented money, and in rude, unsettled, and half-disciplined time, property in that shape was most secure, — that which could be most easily concealed or removed Hence, during the middle ages, and when many of the other mechanic arts were scarcely advanced beyond the stage of necessity, and some not even invented, that of the ' workers in precious metals' was in great repute, and had attained to a considerable degree of perfection. To those artificers the Church was a good customer, though not so much at its own cost as through the devotion of others, who testified their zeal, at least their desire to secure the reputation of it, by gifts of high price, to altars and shrines, or in the shape of some of the various splendid church para- phernalia to which the religious ideas of the times attached so much importance, and even efficacy. For such purposes nothing was deemed too precious or too costly : in those days there was no or-molu, no Brummagem ware, no ' plated goods', no ' German silver' warranted to wear as well as the genuine metal, and which we have actually seen adver- tized as very suitable for vessels for the communion table. Whatever impostures may have been practised in those days, there was at least no imposture nor any thing sham in the gold and sUver used in the service of the Church. How far St. Dunstan was an impostor, or whether, he imposed upon himself to the full as much as he did upon other people, is doubtful. The scepticism of some moderu VOL. II. D 18 LONDON IKTERIOUS. | writers has treated the celebrated legend of his encounter with the Devil in pro- | fria persond, and seizing him by the nose with a pair of red hot pincers, if not as a fiction, J as a delusion on the part of the Saint ; and they have, either charitably or profanely, sup- | posed that he was at the time merely a little crack-brained, more especially as there were | no witnesses present at the transaction. Whether it occurred only in his own imagination | or not, this exploit obtained for Dunstan a character for great sanctity with the people, I and afterwards the honour of being chosen by the Goldsmiths as their Patron Saint, which | distinction he still retains, even to the present day ; and there is even a painting of him in ;| the Goldsmiths' Hall, in the background of which the artist has represented that memo- 4 rable feat of his with the fiend. 1 St. Dunstan lived in the tenth century (925 — 988), and in those times monks and I ecclesiastics were among the most expert proficients in some of the nicer mechanical arts ; | and it was in his cell at Glastonbury Abbey, that the future Saint practised his handicraft, i and was so employed when surprised by the disagreeable visitor above mentioned. Of the ^ holy man's skill and taste in his art, no specimens are now extant, but a gold ring with a | sapphire, enumerated among the jewellery of Edward I., is described as being of his l workmanship. | At that period, and for several centuries afterwards, instead of being regarded as a | mere subordinate branch of art, Orefeceria was the chief ornamental one, and considerable I taste of design and elaborate skill in execution were manifested in it ; nor were our I English artificers of that class at all inferior to those of other countries, but appear, from | the reports of ancient chroniclers, to have been rather in advance of them. To what I extraordinary pitch of perfection it was afterwards brought in Italy by the celebrated I Benvenuto Cellini in the 16th century, is well known : contemporary and personally i acquainted with Michael Angelo, that extraordinary man was the Michael Angelo of his t| own profession, being maximus in minimis ; yet CeUini was no saint, otherwise he would have deserved to be chosen the Patron of his craft. Distinguished as artists, the goldsmiths of olden times were also a very important and influential body among the trading and mercantile classes, in consequence of their acting as ' Lombards', or bankers, advancing monies upon pledges and securities, or receiving them as deposits ; thus carrying on the only species of banking then known, previously to the introduction of the present system in the 17th century, when Francis (afterwards Sir Francis) Child, goldsmith, became the first regular banker shortly after the Restoration, and the firm of that name still continues at this very day, in its original habitat, adjoining Temple Bar. This last circumstance vouches in the strongest terms for the solidity of that establishment, proving it to be, in one sense at least, more than a nominal ; Jirm, it having for the length of now nearly two centuries firmly resisted all shocks and changes. Sir Francis served the office of Lord Mayor ; and the same magistracy nad I goldsmiths' hall. I}) Jequently been held before by several eminent members of the guild or incorporation of the 'Mystery of Goldsmiths' of the city of London. Even as far back as the reign of Henry I., before they were so incorporated, Leofstane, a goldsmith, was mayor, or provost of London ; in the first year of that of Richard I., Fitz Alewin Fitz Leofstane served the same office, and continued in it for five and twenty years ; and in that of Edward I., Gregory Rokesly, another goldsmith, and master of all the king's mints within England, was mayor for eight years successively. "With these slight and desultory references to former times, our readers will, no doubt be content, — at least will hardly be disappointed at not meeting with fuller and more formal historical information, in a work like the present one, evidently graphic and descriptive in its nature. In some instances, indeed, there is very Httle to be said in the way of description, the view itself being almost suffi- ciently explanatory of the building represented, yet such is by no means the case with such an edifice as Goldsmith's Hall, — the facile princeps — the first of its class in the metro- polis. The late 'Hall' which succeeded to the one founded by Sir Drew Barentine, in 1407, for the use of the Goldsmiths Company, and destroyed by the Great Fire, was a rather imcouth structure of brick and stone, yet not altogether deficient in a certain quaint state- liness. Never, indeed, was it of any great architectural note, and that end of Foster Lane was then so narrow — the whole situation so confined and choked up, that the building could hardly be seen from any one point. As soon, however, as the Post Office was erected, and the houses at its rear taken down, Goldsmiths' Hall made a somewhat forlorn appearance, and looked as if, after being so long pent up in an alley, it did not care to have the sun shine upon it. "What share — if any — this circumstance had in determining the Company to erect a new * Hall,' we are unable to say, but their former building was taken down in 1829, and the present structure forthwith commenced, from the designs of Mr. Hardwick, who has here produced a very noble piece of architecture, — imposing, both by the solidity of its construction, and the dimensions of its order ; dignified in aspect, and • remarkably rich in character, as regards the sculptured trophies introduced over the five centre windows of the "West front. It has indeed been objected, that the ground floor is too plain and too tame to accord with the richness and boldness of the rest of the design ; a defect, however, capable of being easUy remedied at any time, should it be thought worth while to do so. As to the building being so badly situated, as some would have us believe, we do not see any reason for particular dissatisfaction in that respect. Although it does not stand in a main street, it is by no means shut out of sight, a view being caught of it from St. Martin's Le Grand ; and although it certainly comes behind the Post Office, it caimot be said to be concealed or crowded up by that building, there being quite sufficient bpace to view it in front, nor is it at all a disadvantage that there is not too much. It is more to be regretted that the ' Hall' could not be placed parallel to the Post Office, at 20 LONDON INTERIORS. least, the degree of obliquity between them been rendered less apparent. But it is time for us to enter Goldsmiths' Hall, and speak of its interior, more especially as that will be altogether new to many, no view whatever of it having, till now, appeared. The entrance hall itself makes no great architectural show, it being treated merely as | an outer vestibule, as which it is sufficiently spacious and handsome ; still even here we | have something to excite curiosity — a sort of promise of, and prelude to, still greater magni- | ficence to come, as we catch imperfect glimpses of a splendid back-ground, showing itself ^ — ^we will hazard the bull — ^in lustrous dimness through the glazed oak screen which sepa- | rates, yet without entirely disuniting, the Hall and Grand-Staircase. Nothing can be better i< managed than this arrangement, whether as regards effect or convenience ; without being | altogether shut out of view even at first, the staircase does not come into view too soon ; 1 and the vestibule having first to be passed, gives an idea of greater extent than if that and S the Staircase formed a single open space. By being enclosed, the latter is rendered i infinitely more comfortable : not only draughts of,air, but the noise attending the arrival of 1 carriages and the setting down company, is cut off, and visitors can linger on the staircase in I their ascent, without being exposed to the gaze of attendants in the hall. It certainly is a j scene to linger in : most striking as is the coup d'ceil, on first entering, and it is one of ^ almost magical effect, a fresh architectural picture — a new combination, presents itself at ,| every turn of the ascent ; and as you advance, the space shews itself greater ; nor is the full Iv climax of effect gained until you have reached one of the side colonnades, and thence sur- | vey the full extent of the staircase from end to end (80 feet), across the four ranks of ^ columns. We have here so many — such a succession of architectural scenery and effect, that it is quite impossible for any single view to do justice to, or convey an adequate idea of, such a subject. Our engraving shows the staircase as seen on immediately entering, except that instead of being a direct front one, the view is turned a little obliquely, both as being thereby more picturesque, and as showing the upper part more clearly on one side, and the second range of columns. Standing on this spot, there is a striking degree both of expanse and loftiness over-head ; to the first of these the depth of the colonnades and upper loggias ' contributes in no small degree, for had the design been in all other respects just the same, but with only a single line of columns on each side, the effect would have been consider- ■ ably less — different, in fact, as to kind, as well as degree, and of by no means so striking and unusual character. The scenic effect thus produced is considerably enhanced by the mode in which the light is admitted entirely from above — over the centre division, > through three large arched windows beneath the dome, on the south, west, and north '■. sides, and over each of the loggias behind the columns, through three compartments in ^- the flat ceiling, filled in with diapered and stained glass, and therefore highly ornamental ;S in themselves, and also tasteful novelties in design. 21 GOLDSMITHS' HALL. THE GRAND LIVERY OR BANQUETTING HALL. Before we conduct our readers into the magnificent apartment which we have now to describe, we must be permitted to say something more in regard to the staircase ; and as there is no intermediate matter, nor any interruption or break, except the beginning- of a fresh page, we may avaU ourselves of the convenience, and resume, in continuation of the preceding page. We have yet to explain one or two matters that are rather important in an architec- tural interior, yet cannot be understood from an engraving, — and first as to colour ; that of the walls is a light neutral tint inclining to buff, and the doors and doorcases are oak, but the shafts of the columns and pilasters are of dark green veined scagliola in imitation of verde antico, and their bases and capitals white. The balustrades of the stairs are of bronze, and others of the same material and pattern enclose one compartment of each colonnade, and a narrower passage or balcony, which allows persons to cross from one side to the other without passing through the rooms, or having to descend one flight of stairs, and ascend the opposite one. Captivating in its ensemble as a highly scenic piece of architecture, this staircase derives additional picturesque efiect from the introduction of statues, viz. four figures of boys, representing the four Seasons, and two larger ones in the middle intercolumn of each colonnade above ; that on the South, or right-hand side, and which is shewn in the engra- ving, being Diana, the opposite one Apollo. The two last are from the antique, and, accor- dingly, shew themselves only as ornamental pieces of art, without any particular meaning in relation to the place ; but in regard to the others, which were executed expressly for the situations they occupy, and which in themselves are highly creditable to their sculptor, Mr. Samuel Nixon, it could be wished that more appropriate characters had been selected for tliem — not indeed that they are decidedly inappropriate, considered indeed, as mere figures, they tell exceedingly well, yet they carry with them no meaning, nor any sort of discoverable allusion to the * Company,' or the purposes of their building, and therefore ■ieem as if they had been originally intended for some other situation. Another piece of sculpture here, and one deserving particular attention, is a very fine marble bust, by Chantrey, of William IV. Unnoticed it can hardly be, since it occupies a very conspicuous situation in a niche immediately facing us, as we ascend the first flight of stairs, but owing to the point from which the view is taken, this niche is not seen in our 22 LONDON INTERIORS. . r engraving. Immediately over it in the centre compartment, hangs a large portrait of George IV. on horseback, by Northeote, between those of George III. and Queen Charlotte, presented to the 'Company' by William IV., from the royal collection at Kensington. We will now ascend the stairs, passing up the flight on the right, to the South colon- nade, or loggia, from which point we behold the whole in quite different and various combinations, but we must not allow ourselves to pause and speak of them, neither must we yet enter the Banquetting Hall, though there is a door leading into it immediately on the top of the stairs, whichever side we ascend ; but we first enter what is called the Livery Tea-room. This, it must be confessed, makes no very favourable impression, especially when seen for the first time, after having just before been fascinated by the architectural display in the staircase. It is spacious and well-proportioned, but makes no show at all, the walls being merely wainscotted and panelled, owing to which, and to- the nearness of the opposite houses, it has a rather sombre appearance by day -light. There is a large picture by Hudson, with portraits of many eminent members belonging to the ' Company,* but nothing else to arrest attention. We wiU therefore proceed at once to the suite of state rooms in the West front ; the first of which, as entered at this end from the South loggia of the Staircase, is the Court Dining-room, 52 feet by 28 ; then comes the Drawing-room, 42 feet, by 28 ; and beyond that the Court, or Council-room : this last apartment would be of precisely the same dimensions as the Dining-room, and would, like that, be entered immediately from the adjoining loggia of the staircase, were not its length reduced fourteen — that is, to 38 feet, by a narrow ante-room or corridor — corres- ponding with the north loggia of the staircase — being got out of it. While it is attended with very great convenience, this by no means disarranges the plan, or interrupts the con- tinuity of the suite, there being still a vista from end to end, when all the folding doors are thrown open ; at the same time, moreover, a greater degree of variety is produced, no two rooms being exactly similar in dimensions, although all of the same breadth. After this explanation of the general arrangements, we may now enter into a few particulars relative to the separate rooms : — its dimensions being above stated, we need not say that the Court Dining-room is a spacious apartment, yet in other respects it is by no means very striking — rather sedate, not to say sombre, in character, the whole being of oak or oak colour — even the very columns ; which last serve to divide off from the room (thus made exactly of the same size as the Council-room) an entrance compartment corresponding with the small ante-room. This taste for oak wainscotting and panelling, seems to be a sort of traditional one, and a matter of etiquette, adopted from the older civic Halls, for it is adhered to in the Council-room, and has found its way even into the Grand Banquetting Hall ; and that it carries with it an air of solemn civic dignity, cannot be denied, but it must also be acknowledged that such style of fitting-up is not altogether goldsmiths' hall. 23 in keeping with that of the building itself; besides which, it has a monotonous effect, espe- cially if — as is the case here — it is not relieved by richly carved penels and other ornaments, or by pictures in gilt frames. The only object of interest in this room, is the white marble chimney-piece, on whose frieze is sculptured, within a wreath held by two boys, a front- face medallion of Richard II., who bestowed on the Goldsmiths' what may be considered their principal charter. On passing from this to the Drawing-room, the contrast is striking enough, perhaps greater than is altogether desirable, considering that the two apartments are immediately connected together ; especially as the contrast, if favourable as regards one room, is almost as much the reverse in regard to the other. Here, perhaps, we behold rather too much of the modern upholsterer and decorator, — a touch too strong of West-end comme-il-faut in taste. The walls are covered with panels of figured crimson satin, bordered by gold mouldings on a white groimd, the furniture and draperies en suite, and every article — to the fender and fire irons, bespeaks costly luxury. You walk upon magnificence as you tread upon the moss-like carpet, in the centre of which are emblazoned the Company's heraldic bearings ; you behold magnificence over head, as you gaze on the ceiHng fretted and embossed all over with a profusion of stucco-work, and on the radiant chandelier with its countless gems of crystal. When this last becomes a blazing constellation of tapers, — when those are multiplied, and the whole pomp of the scene reflected again and again in the ample mirrors on the walls, — when the very atmosphere seems loaded with the perfumes of all Araby, — when * bevies of gay dames,' radiant in loveliness or in jewellery, people this bower of splendour, — ^why then adieu to criticism — it feels over- whelmed, stunned, crushed — annihilated ! So viewed in its full perfection, such a scene might well be deemed the climax of splendour here — while under the immediate influence of its witchery ; yet this is only the comparative degree : the superlative is not reached till we enter the Grand Banquet- ting Hall, which is therefore shown last of all the state-rooms, and, for reasons we shall presently explain, it is better to enter it from the south than from the north loggia of the staircase. This noble and strikingly scenic architectural apartment is 80 feet in length, by 40 in breadth, and 35 high, dimensions that have very rarely been exceeded in any room of the kind.* It is lighted on the east side by five lofty arched windows, which, instead of having panes of the usual kind, are divided into large compartments entirely filled in with diapered ground glass, and with emblazoned armorial bearings. That of the windows naturally divides the sides of the room into the same number of compartments • The Banquetting-room at Fishmongers' Hall is 73 feet by 38, and 33 high ; that in the new range of apartments at Chatstvorth 81 by 31, and 21i high ; and the state dining room at Buckingham Palace is 60 by 35 feet, exclusive of a deep sideboard above at one end. 24 LONDON INTERIORS. or intercolumns, there being an order of Corinthian columns. These are of scagliola in imitation of Sienna marble, with white bases and capitals — the last relieved with gold, and are raised on a continued stylobate, about four feet high. What here adds verj' greatly to the effect of the order, and is, besides, of unusual character in internal com- position, is its being in high relief : in general, where an order is introduced at all into a room against the walls, it is merely as pilasters, or half columns, whereas in this instance the columns are not only insulated, but are backed by pilasters, which produces an in- creased degree of richness, and contributes greatly to the play of perspective. On the west side, or that facing the windows, the two extreme intercolumns are occupied by the doors communicating with the loggias of the staircase, consequently the stylobate is there of necessity interrupted : in the three other intercolumns are as many full-length portraits, vi?., that in the centre of William IV., by Sir Martin Archer Shee; to the right of him Queen Adelaide by the same artist, and the other, that of her present Majesty, by Sir George Hayter. The north end of the room, which is that shown in our view, presents what is both a novel and characteristic feature, as well as a striking one in the general coup d'oeil, as seen on first entering from the opposite end — namely, the large niche serving as a beaufet. This is hung with scarlet drapery in folds, on which the light falls from above through a glazed semi-dome ; yet, although happy in idea, this last does not produce in the day-time all the effect which it might have done, had that opening been filled with warm amber-coloured glass. The appearance, how- ever, is most superb of an evening, when, on the occasion of a banquet, this recess is decked out with what has been called ' the very best edition of Goldsmith's Works' — the Company's magnificent array of plate, rendered still more dazzlingly splendid by the intense lustre poured full upon it, by lights which themselves are not seen by the spectator. Turning now in the opposite direction, to the south end of the room, our admiration abates very considerably, for that is so different in design and character from all the rest, as not to seem to belong to it. Here we behold an oak screen, with Corinthian columns and pilasters, over which is an open gallery : the order, indeed, is the same, but of very different material and colour, and being of one uniform colour throughout, this screen contrasts far more strongly than agreeably with the scagliola columns along the sides of the room. The general design or ordonance of the room is, besides, disturbed by it, as its order is upon a smaller scale, and quite unconnected with the larger one. This screen carries a quaint old-fashioned look, expressive enough of olden times and civic customs, yet ill assorting with the more refined and elaborate splendour of the room. We do not, however, at all attribute it to the architect's own taste, but suppose that it was forced upon him as a point of etiquette . at all events it does not mar the general character of the room as represented in the view, for there the spectator turns bis back upon the screen — as we must now do upon our subject, 26 CUEIST'S HOSPITAL. For those exact historians who make a point of beginning at the beginning, or even earlier, — of giving us, like the author of Tristram Shandy, the history of a man before he is born, recording all his ante-natal circumstances, — for such, this Hospital is a capital subject, because its architectural pedigree may be traced back to times much more remote than the institution of the present establishment, which is, comparatively, but of yester- day origin. Prior to the dissolution of monastic institutions and religious houses in this country, by our English * Defender of the Faith,' here stood the convent of Grey Friars, or Franciscans — so named from their founder, St. Francis of Assisi, who died in 1226, and obtained his apotheosis, by being admitted into the Romish calendar, four years afterwards. The dissolute habits of his youth have not been thought to detract from his character for sanctity ; perhaps rather to render it all the more impressive, owing to the life of extreme austerity and mortification to which he afterwards devoted himself, contrasting so forcibly with his earlier delinquencies. The austerities which he prac- tised in his own person, he imposed upon his followers — one of the four orders of Men- dicant Friars, — who wore coarse grey habits, girded with cord, and went barefooted : for in those days cleanliness was so far from being esteemed any particular virtue, that the opposite to it was rather considered a mark of sanctity. About the time of the saint's death — rather earlier than later — nine brethren of the Order came over to this country, where some of them settled awhile at Canterbury, while others repaired forthwith to London. Here they were well received, first by some monks of the Order of St. Dominick, who had arrived in this country but a short time before them ; and next by a Sherifi" of London, who not only entertained them in his house in Corn hill, but allowed them to make themsehes cells in it. As, however, the house was not consecrated, and their accommodations, perhaps, very scanty, the holy brethren soon found out that they could not perform their devotions in it, — at least, not celebrate their holy offices duly. It was accordingly requisite t'nat they should be provided with some more suitable habitation, nor was it long ere this was efiected, througli the zeal and liberality of some of the wealthier citizens, especially of a mercer or merchant, named John Ewin, who purchased a piece of ground adjacent to what was then called St. Nicholas' Shambles, on a part of the site of the present Hospital; besides which, he contributed largely towards the buildings, and afterwards took the vows of the Order. VOL. II. B 26 LONDON LNTERIORS. All this was, however, but the prelude to greater munificence on the part of bene- factors, and greater splendour on that of the ' Mendicants,' and their institution. A chapel, • of svimptuous character,' was erected for them by William Joyner, Lord Mayor of London, in 1239 ; the cost of which fabric, we are told, amounted to the sum of two hundred pounds ! — now hardly sufficient to pay for the mere scaffolding ; but in those days ' money was money.' Costly as it was, that structure was afterwards deemed both insufficient in itself, and falling short of the reputation of the Order, and of the place. The number of devotees and benefactors increasing, another and stateHer edifice was oegan in the early part of the following century, when Margaret of France, the second wife of Edward I., erected the choir, and John Britain, Earl of Richmond, the nave. The building was completed in about twenty-one years (1316 — 1337), and was 300 feet long, 89 broad, and 74 high ; and though there is nothing now to afford evidence of its architectural beauty, we may fairly take for granted this last to have been fully equal to that of the finest works of the same period, perhaps the abbey church of Westminster itself hardly excepted. Certain it is that the Grey Friars' church shared with that of Westminster the honour of being selected by the high and noble in the land, as their place of sepulture. " From the first foundation unto the dissolution, six hundred and sixty-three persons of quality were here interred :" some of them of the highest quality, and at the same time of the very worst. Among the benefactors to this house of Grey Friars, Sir Richard Whittington, of feline celebrity, must not be forgotten, for he it was who founded its library, a noble room, 129 feet long, and 31 broad, the first stone of which was laid by him in 1421. As this was somewhat before the art of printing was invented, such an apartment was suffi- ciently spacious to contain all the books then in existence, yet its shelves must have been but scantily furnished with them, if it be true that the cost of them did not exceed o5Ql. 10s.; four hundred of which were defrayed by Whittington himself; because in that age books were exceedingly costly articles : copies of original manuscripts could be multiplied only by the very tedious process of transcription, — an Herculean labour in the case of bulky folios, especially when crammed with " all that reading which is never read.' One hundred marks, we are told, were paid for "writing out of D. Nicholas de Lyra his works, in two volumes, to be chained there ;" — an odd, though not unusual precaution then in vogue, from which we must suppose that the ffiching of Dooks — even of folJo& was no uncommon practice, unless they were so guarded. That the religious orders, and that of the Franciscans in particular, distinguished themselves by their learning, is not to be denied ; and strange would it have been, had it been otherwise, seeing that what learning — literature it can hardly be called — there was in those ages, was confined to them and schoohnen. They were, in fact, " the one- CHRIST'S HOSPITAL. 27 eyed monarchs of the blind," for many princes and nobles could then hardly write their own names. In those happy or unhappy times, there was no reading public, — not even BO much as a ' reading fly,' perhaps even a still greater phenomenon than a singing mouse, — merely book -worms — patient masticators of books long since consigned to other worms, and left even by their possessors to moulder and rot in charnel-houses of learning, called libraries. The religious fraternities did not very long preserve their early reputation, either •for studiousness or sanctity of morals : on the contrary, they rendered themselves noto- rious by their indolent and dissolute lives. Or, if such were not the case, most foully and grossly have they been slandered, and that not only by modem writers, but by their contemporaries, nor least of all by one who, although he has lately been described as " a brutal ruffian," is still regarded as one of the great Italian classics. Much later, even at the very time of the Reformation, another writer of scandalous tales, in which Monks and Friars are not spared, was, if not rewarded for publishing them, at least not considered unworthy of ecclesiastical preferment ; accordingly, instead of being suspended and degraded, Bandello obtained a mitre ! Such was the exemplary state of morals and public opinion in ' the good old times !' In this country the dissolution of monasteries put an end to the dissolute conduct of monks and religious beggars, by sweeping them all away : and harsh as such measure may have been, — sordid and imworthy as were the motives which prompted an avaricious and tyrannical monarch to it, we cannot but regard the event itself as a most happy and providential one. The Grey Friars were suppressed along with the rest ; their church stripped of its ornaments, and despoiled of its sumptuous monuments, and converted into a magazine for public stores. Yet this is no matter for regret, since, had the edifice remained altogether uninjured at that time, it would still have perished in the Great Fire. On the ruins of the original institution a better and nobler one has arisen ; certainly one more in keeping with the spirit of modem times. The race of monks has been expel- led; Grey Friars have been succeeded by Blue-coat School boys, who still retain in their costume a strong smack of antiquity ; recalling to memory the days of their founder — our Enghsh Marcellus, the sixth Edward. By the advice of Bishop Ridley, the youthful monarch ordered, among other charitable provisions for the poor, that the buildings of the late Monastery of Grrey Friars should be converted into an Hospital for the maintenance and education of poor children, which good work was eagerly promoted by many of the principal citizens ; and not two days before his death, Edward endowed the establishment vrith the sum of "four thousand marks by the year." Albeit of a very different turn of disposition from the pious Edward, Charles II. was also a considerable benefactor, since he it was who founded the Mathematical School, chiefly intended to provide for the study of navigation. Nor is Dame Mary Ramsey to be accounted among the east munificent of 28 LONDON INTERIORS. donors to the Hospital, since she made a bequest to it, whose annual value now amounts to £4000. At present the general management of the Hospital is conducted by governors, con- sisting of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, and twelve Common Councilmen, chosen by their colleagues ; besides which official personages, others are admitted as governors, who become life-benefactors of not less than £400, and these last enjoy in rotation the privilege of presenting a boy to the foundation as vacancies occur. One of the qualifications on the part of the children so presented, is that their parents have no adequate means of " main- • taining and educating them." Yet considerable relaxation of the exact letter of this condition has taken place, and it is now construed with tolerably liberal latitude. At the present day, and in this march-of-refinement age, neither the parents nor the children would care to have it imagined that the latter receive a purely eleemosynary education, because the former are unable else to provide them with any at all. Refinement, however, has not yet interfered with outward marks and badges. Despite all revolutions and innovations in dress, both as to its cut and its colours, the primitive costume of " Edward's Boys" is still rigorously adhered to, even to the black worsted cap, of such miniature dimensions that it can be used only as a chapeau de bras, and to the yellow petticoat and stockings, which, with the rest, produce a livery resembUng that of " old blue-and-brimstone," alias, the Edinburgh Review. Nor is this severity of ancient costume confined to dress alone, but extends to much in the mode of living, which partakes, though in a milder and modified form, of conventual rule. The Hall serves as the Ref§p- tory of these youthful coenobites ; and though their fare is good and abundant, it is neither of the daintiest, nor served up in the most elegant style. The Blues do not patronize crockery ware of any kind : the manufacturers are not at all indebted to them, nor they ever in debt for it to the manufacturers or dealers in it. Except knives and forks, all the other articles of their table-service are of wood ; wooden platters, wooden dishes, wooden bowls, wooden pails for potatoes, and, worse than all, wooden spoons ! This last is almost malicious — as if in derision of those unfortunate wights who are distinguished by the title of " Wooden-spoons" at another and more advanced seat of learning. Notwithstanding this Spartan " set out," the boys fall to with the appetites of monks, and in as profound silence as Da-Trappists. Strict order and subordination are preserved ; the boys are divided into companies of fifty to each table, at the head, or rather the lower end of which, sits a matron or " dame," who is assisted in her own labours of helping, by one or two of the elder boys. The lady's duties are confined to carving ; nor in that is any extraordinary expertness required, the slices being not quite so delicately fine as " Vauxhall slices ;" neither is any very profound anatomical science needed for dissecting solid boiled beef, and roast legs of mutton ; which constitute almost the full extent of the bill of fare, into which/owl never comes. There is even something classical in such fare, at the same time that it is, at all CHRIST'S HOSPITAL. 29 events, a degree more refined than that of Homer's heroes. It ought, therefore, to agree with both the palates and the stomachs of the Bluecoat " Glrecians." It seems, however, that " Gag" which is here the cant term for unctuous morsels of fat, is not in particulat request among the boys, but rather eschewed than either chewed or bolted down ; — such is the perverseness and inexperience of youth ! If we may beUeve Charles Lamb, — who is, however, not xmiformly to be \mderstood literally in what he says, — a " Gag-eater" was in his time regarded as an all-devouring animal, and little better than a Ghoul. The name of Charles Lamb — the gentle, the humourous, the original, the quaint, and sometimes sarcastic *' EUa" — is intimately associated with Christ's Hospital : this is the " simniest" name that meets us in all its history. He was a genuine poet — in prose ; not that he affected either pompous writing or tawdry superfine sentiment. Had such been the case he would, perhaps, have been almost universally admired, and now as universally forgotten. As it was, his happiest and raciest effusions were mere gag to the million who have no idea of pleasantry, except of that which excites a horse-laugh ; or of sentiment, except it be in the Ercles or the Maudlin vein, and blubbers outright. Elia, thy bust should grace the Hall of Christ's Hospital, as that of one of its benefactors who has pre- served to us some of its most attractive " Recollections," nor the less so, because they are of a kind which the buckram dignity of history takes no note of. With edl his other recom- mendations, the " gentle Charles" was a very egotist, and of egotists the most delightful and truly companionable. In him, egotism was not a faihng, but a virtue ; for it is his perpetual reference to his own tastes and feelings that gives such a peculiar charm to all his best writings. O ! rare egotism ! when it comes in such a shape ! Besides that of EUa, other literary names are not wanting to grace the annals of " Blue- coat School :" some of them, indeed, are now nothing more than mere names which come upon us as the ghosts of departed reputations ; and such a one is that of the " celebrated" Joshua Barnes, of whom, notwithstanding his scholarship, Bentley used to say that his know- ledge of Greek was about equal to that of an Athenian cobbler. Very far brighter and more universally known, isthatof the author of" Clarissa," but even the fame of Richardson, once extended through all Europe, has waxed dim, and is now quite shorn of its beams. Alas ! for the brevity of Hterary immortality ! So, too, may it be, perhaps, a century hence with the author of Waverley ; for the most extraordinary degree of contemporary applause is no pledge whatever for that of posterity. Who was ever more extravagantly admired in his day, who now more completely forgotten than Gherardini ? Unlike either Richardson or Scott, Samuel Taylor Coleridge never even approached the confines of literary popularity he was a writer with whom popularity, and those who bestow it, have no sympathy ; he did not win, but neither did he woo it ; nevertheless, his name is likely to outlive many others which stand far higher in public favour. Among other Blue-coats of note must be mentioned Fanshawe Middleton, the first bishop of Calcutta, who is better remembered by 30 LONDON INTERIORS. his treatise on *' the Greek Article," than by his '* Country Spectator" — a literary per- formance of very gentle mediocrity. Then, there are Mitchell, the translator of Aris- tophanes, and Barnes the second, a writer of very different stamp from Joshua ; for while the last edited Homer, the other was content to be the editor of the " Times" newspaper — that " mighty Iliad of the passing hour :" small indeed, therefore, will be his portion of posthumous celebrity, even though the " Times" itself should live and flourish for centuries to come. Others there may be, yet unknown to fame, of whom Christ's Hospital will one day be proud as having been their Alma Mater. Could those whom we have mentioned, and others whose names, if less known, are yet linked with familiar traditions of the School, revisit Christ's Hospital, they would hardly recognise the place itself as the scene of their youthful studies and sports, so greatly has it been changed within the last twenty years. Whereas, formerly all the buildings of the Hospital were so completely shut out from public view by the houses in Newgate Street, that in passing through that neighbourhood, a stranger had no suspicion of their " whereabouts :" the new Hall forms a very striking architectural object, and, in fact, the only one of its kind in the whole of the Metropolis. The collegiate character is too plainly expressed to be mistaken : the long low cloister which runs beneath the Hall on its South side, serves to point out, almost at once, the particular purpose of the building ; yet it must be confessed, that there is one circximstance that somewhat jars the impression we might else receive : we allude to the total exposure of the court or play-ground where that " clois- tered" building stands, to one of the most public and noisiest thoroughfares. One naturally looks for some more quiet and retired situation, one marked by greater seclusion from the every-day bustle of the world, and where all would be alike characteristic. It may be replied, that this is merely matter of feeling, and so it certainly is ; but then, in such matters, feeling, or whatever else we choose to call it, amounts to a very great deal. Would we, then, have the Hall quite shut out from the street as before ? Not so, either. But we certainly should like to see some more distinct separation between the territory of the School and the street ; and this might easily enough have been accomplished, by erecting, towards the street, a double screen of open arches, somewhat similar to the one which has been built on the North side of what is called the Garden Court — which, by connecting together the two Lodges, might have been made to form with them a pleasing architectural frontispiece. Nor, in such case, would the Hall have shewn itself to particular disadvantage, by not being fully exposed to sight as soon as it can be seen at all. The present iron gates and railings are certainly poor enough in effect ; neither have the two Lodges much to recommend them : they are by far too insignificant and trivial, as well as small, — ^very imworthy accompaniments, in fact, to the Hall itself. This last was begim in 1825, when the first stone was laid, April 28th, by the Duke o' Y ork. It is by very far the best modern specimen of the style adopted for it, which had I' Christ's hospital. 31 been then produced in the Metropolis ; which, however, is not saying much in its praise, considering what sort of Gothic the previous aud contemporary specimens are, not, perhaps, excluding two or three later ones ; some of which are, in comparison with this structure (by the late John Shaw, who was also architect of St. Dunstan's, Fleet Street), but a degree or two better than "Guildhall Gothic." The South elevation of the Hall (which is, in fact, the only architectural one, the other side and the ends being shut out by other buildings), consists of nine wide but low arches in the basement, forming an open doister or ambulatory, 16 feet wide ; and as many lofty windows over them, of the earlier Tudor character. In the rear of the cloister are kitchens, butteries, and other offices which serve as arsenals for the ammunition de bouche required by the numerous garrison ; and at the East end of this cloister, turning to the left, we immediately enter an ample but plain staircase, and proceed to an upper lobby cut off from that end of the Hall, beneath the Organ Gallery, and divided from the former by a wainscot screen, with glazed openings. "Were it only on accoimt of its dimensions — in which respect it is surpassed by few ancient, and unequalled by any other modern example of the kind, in the kingdom* — this Hall must be pronounced a noble room ; yet, perhaps, it does not strike so forcibly at first as might be expected ; which may, perhaps, be accounted for without any great difficulty. The whole place has too much the general air and character of a chapel, or other ecclesiastical building, where we are accustomed to look for space, to strike as a room of the same or even less dimensions, but of different character would do. There is, however, one peculiarity which materially takes off from its church-like look, and also distinguishes it from most other collegiate Dining Halls. Though the circumstance alluded to shows itself plainly enough in our plate, it is not every one who, even thus forewarned, may be able to detect it ; we therefore point out for their notice, that this Hall is lighted only on one side, and by a single range of windows ; there being besides only two small ones, filled with stained glass, placed high up at the east end, in the organ gallery, one on each side of the instrument, consequently behind the spectator, who is supposed in the view to be stationed in that gallery. What farther gives some incidental character to this interior, is the enormous framed • In order to convey a clearer idea of its magnitude and spaciousnesa, we here state both its own dimensions, and those of some other examples. Length. Breadth. Height. Westminster Hall 238 ft 67 ft 80 ft. Christ's Hospital 187 — 51 — ........ 47 — GuildhaU 153 — 48 — 55 — Lincohi's Inn (New Hall) .... 120 — 45 — 64 — Crosby Hall 69 — 27 — 38 — 32 LONDON INTERIORS. picture, by Verrio, representing Charles II. giving an audience to the governors and scholars. The most that can be said of it in its present state is that its size renders it a curiosity, for it is certainly dingy even to dismalness. It serves well enough to cover a very large portion of the surface of the wall, but does not contribute so much to splen- dour and magnificence as it does to solemnity. The same may be remarked in regard to the other pictures, some of which are so placed as to be but very, dimly visible. Such is the case with that by Holbein, at the west end of the room, which represents the royal founder of the Hospital granting the charter to the Lord Mayor, and other representatives of the City. In fact, it is a mere unmeaning application of epithets to bestow that of ' splendid' on this Hall ; there being very Httle of positive decoration in it, and that of a far more sober than showy kind : nor is this at all a defect, whereas magnificence would have been out of keeping with the homely simplicity of the ' banquets' here served up. The ' public suppers' held here every Sunday from the commencement of February till Easter, are not of such sumptuous character as to fill the spectators, who are admitted into the gallery at those feeding times, with eager and wishful longings for the good cheer on the tables. These suppers are conducted in the same manner as the dinners, which we have already described ; the chief difference being, that the two rows of chandeliers are then lighted ; to which may be added another difierence, which especially distinguishes these from all other public banquets, viz., instead of toasts being drank and speechifyings made afterwards, the organ begins to play, an anthem is sung, and then the boys, headed by their respective dames, depart in a long procession, two and two, making their obeisances to the President, who is seated in a chair of state, on the dais at the upper end of the room. There is an annual public oration in the presence of the Lord Mayor and other visitors, on the Thursday in the Easter week, and this ceremony forms the subject of the engraving, which gives a view of the Hall from the Organ Gallery at its east end. The second plate gives a representation of another peculiar annual ceremony or custom, which, though it does not take place in the Hall, or any where else within the Hospital itself, forms one of the privileges of the School ; we mean the annual presenta- tion of the boys to the Sovereign. Truly must they, in their quaint attire, seem strange visitors within the walls of St. James's Palace, amidst all the pomp and pageantry of a royal birth-day drawing-room ; and their number would certainly render them inconve- nient ones, by excluding all other company, were it not limited to only six, who, attended by one of the masters, are admitted into the Throne Room, just before the ceremony of the Drawing Room commences. As soon as the Queen enters from the Royal Closet, the boys drop down upon their knees, holding up their maps, or other specimens of their proficiency, for royalty to bestow a gracious smile upon. This being done, they rise and immediately retire, with hngering thoughts, perhaps, though not with lingering steps ; for wine, cake, and numerous social et-ceteras, await their return to the Hospital. UNITED SERVICE CLUB. There is no Club which possesses more characteristic features than the United Service. Order, and a well regulated adaptation of the means to the end, are observable throughout : it has less of luxury, but exhibits apparently more of real comfort than any we have seen. Devoid of much architectural beauty, with decorations simple almost to severity, it excels every other Club, — by the employment of the Fine Arts to give permanence to its records, to impart a deeper feeling to its social resources, and a higher interest to its original design. We can readily conceive the motives which have led to the formation of this Society. At the close of the war in 1815, a number of highly educated men were separated by merely casual circumstances from their comrades of the past campaign. There was no place of rendezvous, no point of common resort. Now, perhaps, there are no classes to whom social intercourse is more a habit, a necessity, than the military and the naval. The merchant is always a merchant, the statesman has ever his policy, and every accident is an event to a thorough political M.P. To such men life can always supply excitement and occupation. With the Naval and Military professions it is not so ; and whilst to these, the present is comparatively a dead letter, the past has ever a living interest. If the contrasting circumstances of life have their charms, — the military career supplies them; if danger, valour, personal incident, success or misfortune, exert an influence over the minds of men, — what fiction ever penned by Tasso, Ariosto, or Spenser, and selected from the most poetic period of romantic fiction, can equal the simplest recital of the soldier's career ? Imagination and memory are two of the kindliest gifts bestowed by Nature upon man : one invests the events of life with a charm, without which they would cease either to excite or enhance action ; the other rewards ambition and the love of excellence, and provides, moreover, unfailing enjoyment, by its power of reflecting the lights and shadows of the storied past. Whatever the age, clime, government, manners and customs of a people, the details of military action have ever formed a part of its earliest literature. The poems of Homer, the Songs of the Northern Bards, the Ballad history of Spain and England, are but the rhythmical arrangement of the narratives common to a warrior class, and by them narrated to their countrymen. A more advanced stage of civilization, may change the mode of transmitting events, but it does not eradicate the motive, or diminish the pleasure of VOL. II. F 34 LONDON INTERIORS. * their recital ; and were even such details of no moment to the multitude, they would fomo a | strong bond of union, and supply a sufficient cause for the association of men to whom they | are as the oral biography of their lives. I The General Military Club was formed on the 31st of May, 1815, was joined by | Officers of the Navy on the 24th of January, 1816, and on the 16th of February following, I assumed the name of the " United Service Club." The house was built by Mr. Nash : :{ the exterior has no claims to originality, and is singularly plain, and imimposing. The I total expense incurred in its erection was £42,900 : it was first opened in November, 1828, • prior to which period the Club had been located in Charles Street, St. James's Square, I where it was first formed, with the sanction and co-operating aid of many members of the i Royal Family, and of Officers of the very highest rank in the Army and Navy. The \ building was commenced in 1826, and owes much to the taste and genius of the ] present Earl de Grey. \ The Hall, by which you enter, differs from that of any other Club, not only by its | very moderate dimensions, but simple mode of decoration. The walls are painted in | imitation of light veined marble, the columns and pilasters of red granite. On either side ,j are two small rooms, forming a Visitor's Waiting Room, and the Porter's Lobby. Pro- | ceeding to the right, you ascend the principal staircase, a lofty, imposing, well proportioned ^ space, from the centre of which a fiight of steps arises, with branches to a spacious landing. ,^ The piers and arches are painted in yellow Sienna ; brocatello is employed upon the ^ plinths and bases of the pilasters ; the cornices and architraves are of light veined marble. ■') The entire space is lighted by a spacious turret, which springs from the side compart- | ments, is boldly ornamented, and painted in shades, with the enrichments marked out 1 in colours. The Balustrades are of white and gold, and from the centre of the dome, a i handsome Bude light is suspended. From this description our readers will perceive the i style of embellishment here adopted is opposed to that of the Clubs we have described. j Architectural effect, comparatively speaking, there is none : it wants the refined \ perception of the beautiful, which is the sentient property of the Athenaeum; and the rich | and full conception of decorative design remarkable in the Reform Club. Grandeur there | is, — as space ; yet there are parts which are oppressive, from the massive and undecorated i surface they oppose to the eye. But a feature impressive almost as Architecture, and I combining the highest taste with the most honourable feeling, now presents itself. The \ Club has evoked the aid of the Fine Arts, and the decoration of this house consists really in I the works of genius which adorn its walls, — by portraits, which revive the affections of the l living, by recalling the memory of the dead; and by pictures depictive of the valour j which fell at Trafalgar, and the dauntless endurance which triumphed at Waterloo. \ These pictures it will be our desire more particularly to describe. In a recess of the j East Wall, the visitor first observes a fine statue of the Duke of York, by the late 3 i UNITED SERVICE CLUB. S5 Sir Francis Chantrey; and around the Gallery — The Battle of Waterloo, painted by (jeorge Jones, Esq., R.A., and that of Trafalgar, by Clarkson Stanfield, Esq., R.A. ; portraits of the Duke of Wellington, by W. Robinson ; of Nelson, the head painted by Jackson, from a picture by Hoppner, in Greenwich Hospital, and finished upon that artist's death by W. Robinson in 1831 ; of Sir John Moore, by W. Robinson, after a half-length painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, for Admiral Sir Graham Moore ; and Lord Exmouth, by S. Lane, painted in 1834 from a half-length by Sir Thomas Lawrence, for Lord Sidmouth. To enter into criticism upon these works of art would be unnecessarily to extend this paper. Stanfield's "Trafalgar" is the only modern picture of this class upon which we have dwelt with pleasure. No subject is so difficult to place on canvas as a Naval engage- ment ; the eye ranges over a space, in which the perpetual recurrence of similarity of form in the objects represented, and which occupy necessarily so great a portion of the scene, is apt to produce sameness of effect. Points of insulated interest may add to the poetry of the composition, and excite the passionate emotions of the spectator. This, however, is rather the property of such subjects as the *' Death of Nelson," where the emotive feeling arises from the particular incident depicted, or flows from some individual feature of the engage- ment. Few, however, have been enabled to represent a general conflict, to pourtray and concentrate the progress of the action, and so to combine fiction with truth, that we lose no portion of the event, or retire uninfluenced by the impression it should convey. But this Stanfield does, as Van de Velde would have done. Due west, are the Morning and Writing Rooms — the former 43 feet long by 27 : and the latter 27 feet by 30 ; but as these offer no pecidiarity of architectural arrangement, and their decorations are nearly similar to those of the Coffee Room adjoining, we shall consider them together. The Coffee Room faces the south ; it is 100 feet long by 30 wide, and divided into three compartments by skreens of scagliola columns, representing red granite, with statuary marble capitals and bases. It is well lighted by nine windows, the cornices and ceihngare distempered in tints, the walls of light stone colour ; and the frieze and entablature are tastefully relieved in subdued shades. The curtains in all the rooms hang from the full height of the cornice, which adds much to the general good effect. Desirable as it may be in rooms of this description to maintain in every manner the im- pression of vastness of dimension, in order, doubtless, that the modern Coffee Room may imitate the Banqueting Hall of our more Saxon ancestry, we must yet be permitted to doubt the propriety of attempting to obtain this effect by coldness of colour, amounting almost to nakedness. True, this may be reUeved and harmonized by columns and other architectural resources, beauty of form being the law for the right decoration of space, from which alone true grandeur can be obtained, and upon which it rests as a basis. To this colour is an accessory, and properly managed is its feeling ; but so rigid are its laws, 86 LONDON INTERIOKS. that a shade too little, or a tint too much, out of keeping, or in extreme, will destroy its | charm. | The House Dinner Room here, is what it claims to be — a Gentleman's apartment. Its | dimensions are 35 by 25 feet, and its decorations but slightly vary from those we have I described. Within a recess at the east end there is a portrait, a copy by Bullock from the I picture in Greenwich Hospital of Lord Rodney, whose actions are a proof of the correctness of i the poet's creed — ... | Neque imbellem feroces ■ ' • * I Progenerant aquilce columham, ' ''^ - I and of the honourable truth of the motto which the Rodneys' have borne since their banner I was displayed at Acre in the days of Richard the First. Over the fire-place is a portrait I of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, a copy by Colvin Smith, of Edinburgh, from a portrait in the | possession of the family. On the west side is Rodney's engagement of April 12, 1782, * painted by E. Serres, in 1784, a conflict which Lord Rodney himself described as lasting > nearly eleven hours, and by "persons appointed to observe, there never was seven I- minutes' respite during that time, the battle being the severest that was ever fought at sea, i and the most glorious for England." This picture was presented to the Club by Rear -\ Admiral Wollaston, in 1836, and the portrait, by Georgfe, third Lord Rodney. Between 't the windows is a colossal bust of the "The Duke," executed in Carrara marble by | Pistrucci. 1 Ascending the staircase, you enter on the left the Library, the dimensions of which, '^ and of the other apartments upon this floor, as corresponding very greatly with the rooms .1 described, it is not here necessary to repeat. This room has a very imposing efiect ; | it is lofty, and divided into three compartments by skreens of green Sienna columns ; their i bases and corinthian capitals being of statuary marble. Their influence is, however, '^ diminished, by an impression of littleness in proportion ; they want elevation and grandeur, ^ and the capitals appear to overlap the shafts. The ceilings of this and of the adjoining 1 rooms are plain, a light cove arises from the cornice ; and this and the entablature are painted ;> in French white. The walls are of a very delicate green, the wood- work in imitation of | maple. The curtains are of the richest crimson silk, and the room is lighted by a j;| handsome or-moulu chandelier. The spaces between the columns are occupied by hand- 1 some mahogany bookcases ; the table part of which is of green Sienna marble. Where | this is not the case, the space is filled by full length portraits of the Sovereigns of England, :| many of which the Club owes to the liberality of Earl de Grey. As these form s/^ ,f^H/^r..-±^ta >^^!^i^yz/f&A,^y:i^, -iC^ 75) TOWER OF LONDON. THE NORMAN CHAPEL IN THE WHITE TOWER. In like manner as the * White Tower,' or Keep, is the most interesting and character- istic of all the buildings within the precincts of the ancient citadel of London, being tha which, in spite of the partial modernization it has undergone, shows itself the most ' monu- mental' ; so is the Chapel the most interesting part of its interior as a specimen of the architecture of its period. Dedicated to St. John the Evangelist, though sometimes spoken of by the name of " Caesar's Chapel," this apartment is held by antiquarians to be the most genuine as well as earliest example of Norman work in this country, and one which exhibits the perfect plan of a Norman v?hurch (that is, internally) upon a small scale. Yet, if a genuine example, and so far entitled to favour with the antiquary, it is not the choicest one — not exactly what the architect would select as a study of the style to which it belongs, since of style it shows very little more than the first indications and rudiments in regard to pillars and arches. If, however, it be too naked and austere in character — so much so that it conveys no idea of the refinement which the style is suscep- tible of, and to which it would perhaps have attained in a higher degree had it not been superseded by the introduction of the Pointed or Gothic style, — this interior is an unmixed and, so far, a pure if not complete example of Norman, Few persons take the trouble to discriminate their feelings very nicely ; accordingly so that they do but feel interest in examining a building, they do not stop to inquire of what particular kind that interest is, or how it impresses them, but set it all down to the account of the building itself, although to that the least share of it may belong. This is wrong, because it leads to erroneous judgments and false criticism. In mattc^o of archi- tecture, antiquity and historical associations are apt to be terribly seductive and deceptive, causing us to judge of objects by extraneous and accidental circumstances, and to set down the influence of these last as that of quahties inherent in the objects themselves. Antiquarianism has its foibles : it is prone to indulge in that overweening admiration which partakes of doting superstition. Its enthusiasm is wonderfully excited by names and dates, irrespectively of all other considerations, it being very much akin to that devotee criticism which estimates a daub said to be a veritable portrait of the Virgin by St. Luke himself, far above the most exquisite of Raphael's Madonnas. "We would no^ be thought to speak irreverently of the gentle craft of antiquarianism, but we certainly cannot accompany it to the full extent of all its fancies, and its too credulous admiratioa of relics doubtful at the best, at the same time so utterly trivial in themselves as to hat« VOL II, ] 74 LONDON INTERIORS. 110 other claim to regard than what is founded upon their assumed genuineness. Neither can we help thinking that Antiquarianism sometimes pulls one way and Art another, in accordance with their respective mottos, " Vetustas" and *' Venustas" — which are so much alike, that it is not greatly to be wondered at* if the one be sometimes mistaken for the other. A.S far as a venerable name and date, both of unquestionable authenticity, go lowards conferring interest up it, the Norman Chapel of the Tower is recommended by that of Gundulph the prelate, architect of Rochester Cathedral and Castle, and by the date 1078, or the twelfth year of the Conqueror. It is accordingly one of the earliest authenticated examples of our Anglo-Norman ; and is in its appearance primitive even to rudeness, presenting to the eye only the bare forms of pillars and arches alone, without any other elements of the style, or any of that elaborate and delicately wrought ornament which afterwards attempered its severity, and occasionally imparted to it a character even of richness ; so that had not its further progress been interrupted by the invention and universal adoption of the pointed arch, it probably might have been carried on to much greater excellence, and without forfeiting anything as to consistency might have attained to greater fulness and variety of expression, although hardly perhaps moulded into such a system ' all compact" as that of its successor, the Gothic style. Being merely an apartment within the "White Tower, the Chapel does not at all show itself externally, being there nowise distinguishable from the rest — which is of military character, except that its situation is indicated by the projection forming the rounded portion at its East end, by which it may be seen that it occupies the South-east angle of the structure. Still, by those not otherwise informed of it, the existence of a Chapel within the Keep would hardly be suspected, because since it has been used as a Record- office, the public are not admitted into it ; consequently it is now known to very few except by drawings and views of it. Our engraving represents it nearly in its entire extent from its West end, whereby all the pillars are shown, and of course all the arches also, except the one which is cut off on each side the foregroimd or end nearest the spectator. Without this explanation, or a plan in lieu of it, a very erroneous idea of it might be conveyed by the view, it being impossible to understand from that alone how much is shown or how much is cut off, for the plan might be extended ad libiium — the view supposed to show not more than one half of it. Hence, where there is no verbal description, or when that that— as too frequently happens — omits to supply comple- mentary information, very imperfect ideas or even gross misconceptions are sometimes conveyed by views of buildings — by interior ones more especially, because in them the whole of the subject cannot possibly be represented, unless by two separate drawings taken in opposite directions. Having set the reader right as to on© rather important point — and as fcr those who THE TOWER. 75 skip over letter-press, it is not our fault if they fall into error in regard to it — it will now plainly be understood that there are altogether twelve insulated pillars — and of course thirteen arches — dividing this chapel into a middle portion or nave, and two sides which are continued behind the semicircle or apse at the East end. In this last situation the pillars are put closer to each other than along the sides of the room ; owing to which the arches are there narrower, and would consequently be lower also than the others, did they spring immediately from the imposts or capitals of the pillars ; therefore to obviate this irregularity they are stilted, that is, the arches themselves are elevated by being made to spring from a higher level than the apparent imposts, so as to bring their * crowns' or summits to the same height as the wider ones. By this artifice uniformity is preserved throughout, in regard to the arches or arched openings between the columns being ahke in height, as measured from the floor, although dissimilar in width, while the difference in other respects is of such kind as to occasion rather an agreeable species of variety than offensive irregularity, more especially since instead of being mere arbitrary caprice, the motive for it is suflSciently apparent, and the eye is reconciled to the dissimilarity in the outlines and proportions of the arched openings, by the ingenxiity with which the problem is solved. And as the opportunity offers itself, we may, for want of a better one, here remark, that architectural language is exceedingly vague and indefinite, there being no precise term to distinguish, where occasion requires it, between the arch properly so called, and the whole void or space over which it is extended, and ofwhich it forms apart. Hence great confusion and uncertainty arise in verbal descrip- tion, the word ' arch' being indiscriminately employed sometimes to mean that part alone, at others the entire void as measured from the floor ; and arches are frequently spoken of as being of narrow or wide proportions — of lofty or low, when they are in reality of the same proportions, the difference being occasioned by the greater proportional narrow- ness or width — elevation or depression of the opening below their impost.* We are not prepared to suggest any adequate term — at any rate none that would not be con- sidered too arbitrary and fanciful • but it is obvious that the * arches',— if we must still so term them — of the apse, are of different character and proportions from the others. A still more strongly marked difference prevails between the arches forming the upper gallery or Triforium, and those below. These openings are exceedingly low in comparison with their width ; Rivl very unlike those in similar situations in some of the Norman naves of our cathedrals, where the arches of the upper arcade or Triforiima are generally subdivided into two lesser ones supported on a central pillar, and comprised within the larger arch extending over them, — as at Rochester, Chichester, and Peter- borough. In the nave of Norwich cathedral, on the contrary, the Triforium has large open arches, similarly to the Chapel in the Tower. • The difference between proportions and dimensions has been already explained in the description cf Westminster Hall; which the reader may consult. 70 LONDON INTERIORS. In this last, however, .he arches diflfer materially from most other examples, having Qothing whatever that amounts to design — no kind of architectural finish — no archivolt or >ther mouldings, but being merely arched perforations of the wall. The general naked- ness is further increased by the excessive plainness of the roof, which is merely semi- cylindrical or what is called ' waggon-headed,' without any groinings or ribs, consequently destitute of what is not only one of the most characteristic circumstances belonging to the style, but contributes so materially to perspective effect and play of intersecting lines. The kind of effect just alluded to, is tolerably well exemplified in the following subject, viz. the view of the Small Armoury, where the ribs on the vaxilting — the diagonal ones crossing each other, produce a sort of regular intricacy, and as seen in receding succession render the appearance or distance more distinct, whereas the roof in the Chapel is a mere blank surface. Although we have already mentioned that this chapel is at the south-east angle of the iVhite Tower, it remains to be noted that it is not, as might else be supposed from its general appearance and massiveness of construction, in the lower part of the edifice, but in the second story, and includes the corresponding space of the third story, rising up the height of both of them. How then, it may be asked, are such ponderous pillars, being on an upper floor, supported from below? — Do they rest upon corresponding pillars or piers of any kind beneath the chapel ? — Instead, however, of being so supported, the pillars of the chapel stand upon the solid walls of the vaulted chamber under it, and which is no longer than the nave, therefore the pillars and aisles may be said to be ' got out' of the walls of the edifice. That this could very well be done is evident, when it is known that the external walls, and beneath the chapel, the inner ones are in some places nearly sixteen feet thick, which is about three feet more than the nave of the chapel is wide ! In fact, so far from being at all spacious, this apartment is rather contracted, and may be termed even diminutive, considering the form it assumes of a church with aisles. The extreme dimen- sions, including the aisles, are only 58 feet by 32, the nave not more than 48 feet in length, by thirteen or fourteen in width, measured within the pillars As to the vaulted room beneath the chapel, we know not to what purpose, if any, it is now appropriated, nor whether it be the same with the secret chamber of St. Katherine in flie Tower of London, where, as tradition relates, Edward I. busied himself in alchemical studies with the celebrated Raymond Lully. Certainly, no more fitting place for con- ducting such mysterious operations could have been found ; nor could any stronger strong-room' have been wished for in order to treasure up in safety as much gold as might be manufabtured. What success attended the labours of the royal alchemist and his coad- jutor may easily be guessed, for they no doubt discovered that if they could not transmute the baser metals into gold, they could into moonshine. S^ii^// /7/ - &.^i> Qyy^^^^^o'f/^ QS^y^^^t^'Z^. ■ ^^ y . —^ .y^ruA- //£ .^J^yK^/f^/.'J:^ 32/^^ ...^7^:^ a^Jm^fne:'- ZJ^'ci ^,HM>i/: —J^'ic -^^u/t/^ ^ytuA^^a^m^^nc^ 77 THE TOWEE. THE NORMAN ARMOURY. At nearly the eastern extremity of the Great or Horse Armoury, through an open arch, which is shown at the right-hand comer in the view of that lower gallery, streams forth a blaze of sunny light which actually kindles up that spot, and sheds a warm effulgence over it even in the dullest weather ; when the glow is if not the most vivid, more especially striking, inasmuch as it then contrasts so strongly with the chiller light of all besides ; and, on being first perceived, may be mistaken for a powerful gleam of gas-light issuing from that opening. On a nearer approach it is discovered to be produced merely by a skylight of coloured glass over that lobby ; the effect attending which is very far better than the cause itself, since the latter makes no pretension to the character of painted glass ; better therefore would it have been had the skylight been so managed as to be kept out of sight. An excellent hint, however, may be derived from it by those whc do not disdain to pick up, wherever they can, an idea not of sufficient authority to be professedly copied, but — what is far better — capable of being variously modified and greatly improved upon. The architect may here learn how, without other aid, an effect of the kind can be made to impart attraction to what would be else of insipid common-place character, and how an interior may be illuminated as well as merely lighted. Entering the lobby and ascending the staircase, we reach an upper vestibule, which serves as a sort of Ante- Armoury, since it contains many objects of mihtary vertue, and, among other curiosities, two figures more grotesque than venerable, the one holding a pot of beer, the other a quartern of gin — at least such fiery potion is supposed to be the contents of his measure. These figures are conjectured by Sir Samuel Meyrick to have been " originally placed over the door in the great hall in the palace at Greenwich, which led to the buttery and larder — an usual custom in old bxiildings," and to have been brought hither with the armour from that royal residence on its destruction. Those more captious than ourselves might object that the good cheer of old English hospitality would have been better and more fully expressed had there been some symbol of eating as well as of drinking, — had he of the gin borne a roasted boar's head instead of his quartern measure. Not caring to inquire too nicely into that matter, we shall content ourselves with remarking that these figures seem to be in high favour with most of the visitors, who find them vastly droll' and * vastly natural.' Of nature they certainly have enough, and, apparently 78 LONDON INTERIORS. of good-nature too ; therefore we should be less disagreeably startlecf by their jumping down from their pedestals, than were the like feat performed by some of the grim old warriors and doughty knights in the Horse-Armoury. It would seem that fresco-painting has been peeping in here for subjects and studies, for in the Westminster Hall exhibition there is one fresco in congenial style and spirit with those two Ante-Matthewites, to wit, that which represents a jolly old John Bull, indulging in potations of ale, and which, if not exactly in the * grand style ' of art, is, at least, in a sufficiently intelligible one, — so honi soit qui mal y pense. From this vestibule a flight of steps conducts us up into the small, or as it is other- wise called. Queen Elizabeth's Armoury, at the further end of which, directly facing the entrance, we behold the effiges of the Maiden Queen herself on horseback, on a caparisoned steed, and attired in a dress similar to the one which is said, or is supposed, to have been worn when going in procession to St. Paul's, to celebrate the defeat of the Spanish Armada. In the accompanying engraving, this lively or life-like representation of her Majesty is not shown, the view being taken from that end of the Armoury where it stands, and looking towards the entrance, through which a glimpse of the vestibule is caught in the distance, and though the steps leading up from it are not seen, they are expressed by the figures in the vestibule being on a lower level. Yet although thus compelled to turn our backs on the Royal Elizabeth, our pen may be allowed to record the very original remark which the figure once drew forth, in our hearing, from a person of very respectable appear- ance. On learning whom the figure represented, he exclaimed to his companion, ' So ! that is good Queen Bess ! — she, you know, who had her head cut off by Bloody Mary of Scotland ; — and here she is, prancing on a white horse, as unconcerned as if nothing was to happen to her. Ugly times were those, when cutting off heads was in fashion!' And if the reader should here accuse us of 'invention,' he not only wrongs us, but he attributes to us a degree of imagination far greater than we can pretend to : Hardly any one, indeed, could imagine such a specimen of innocent and self-satisfied ignorance, in an age which takes to itself credit for being one of universal enlightenment, with the 'schoolmaster abroad ' everywhere, save where he is most of all wanted. Having shaken ofi" the reproach we might else have incurred for having endeavoured to practise upon the reader's credulity in order to try its extent and elasticity, we will now proceed more soberly — and, first, to describe the room itself, or rather — as the pencil haS taken that office from our pen, leaving little to be added in the way of mere description, to set down a few supplementary observations. This small gallery — for to such name its proportions entitle it — which are not much more than twelve feet in width, by thirty feet^ or thereabouts, in length, is not exactly in statu quo — having been rendered much better- conditioned than it was when it served as the prison-house of the illustrious Sir Walter Raleigh ; for it has been so greatly trinamed up— at once modernized and ' antiquatized,' I THE TOWER. 79 that it might very well pass for the studio of some collector of ancient armour. Its former loop-hole openings, which served to banish darkness by converting it into palpable gloom, have given way to windows, admitting sufficient light, at the same time not so much as to destroy solemnity. The other modern work consists of Norman fret-mouldings on the roof, disposed like those of a groined vault, although it is merely an arched one ; and of pannelling with small intersecting Norman arches along the lower part of the wall. In two places this panelling is made to open after the manner of a 'jib,' or secret door' into den-like recesses or cavities within the wall, which were used either as sleeping places for prisoners, or as dungeons for their more strict confinement. Names and inscriptions traced on the walls by some of the unhappy wretches here confined in Mary's reign are said still to be visible, and there are written copies of them, hung up for the inspection of the curious. These dismul sepulchral cells, and the various instruments of torture here exhibited, — all contrived with the utmost cunning of devilish ingenuity and invention — do not say much for the * good old times' of ' Merry England,' but rather bear damning testimony against them as times of atrocious cruelty and tyranny. To say the truth, history is no very great flatterer of the • good old times' of any country, generally depicting them in such colours that admiration is converted into horror. The most doting and obsequious veneration for the past, cannot blind any one to the iniquities and cruelties with which our annals are rife, nor can even the most ultra-conservatism wish to recal such a system of society. The history of the Tower itself is almost a blot upon our history ; it exhibits to us a series of crimes, where, for the most part, arbitrary force was the real criminal, and the accused or prisoner was the victim meriting to be avenged. Could they all be drawn up in array, those who have been imprisoned, and many o* them put to death within the Tower, might ftirnish out an appalling tragic pageant. Mortimer — but the paramour of the infamous Isabel of France, richly merited his fate, — Richard II., Chaucer, Lord Cobham, Owen Tudor, the Duchess of Glouster, Henry VI., Edward V., the Duke of Buckingham, Sir Thomas More, Anne Boleyn; Lady Jane Grey, Wyat, Essex, and very many others, were all in turn prisoners at the Tower, and many of them escaped longer captivity only by being led to the block. Such was the fate of the universally commisserated Lady Jane Grey ; and the axe with which she was beheaded — which is also said to have been the same employed for the execution of Anne Boleyn — is still shewn among the other implements of death or torture, treasured up in the Small Armoury, as the last relics, it is to be hoped, of times of tyranny and cruelty destined never more to return to us. One of the most odious as well as the most prominent traits of those unhappy times was the savage and certainly most unchristian practice of torturing and maiming in every conceivable shape, perpetrated with a cold-blooded ferocity and refinement of cruelty that 80 LONDON INTERIORS. would disgrace cannibals. To increase our detestation of such horrors, religion, which ought, and which, if it had duly exerted its influence on society, would have prevented, was, on the contrary, too frequently made the pretext for committing them with more than wonted savageness. Strange spectacle for the infidel world that the followers of a religion, which, above all others, inculcates humanity and compassion, should exhibit such deadly and malignant rancour on the part of rival creeds, churches, and establishments mutually, anathematizing and martyrizing, and resorting to the rack and the axe as the last and most convincing of their theological arguments. To escape from the sombre strain of schoolboy-theme moralizing, let us congratulate ourselves that thumbscrews, pincers, instruments for tearing flesh and crushing bones, are gone out of fashion, and would be clean forgotten were they not preserved as harmless curiosities in such repositories as the Small Armoury. As to the prison chambers of the Tower, they are now all untenanted. The last personage who was lodged here — and no doubt far more comfortably provided for than any of his predecessors in captivity had been was the late Sir Francis Burdett, at that time of demagogue and patriot celebrity. On April 6th, 1810, a vote passed the House of Commons for the Baronet's committal to the Tower, adjudging a letter and other matter of his printed in Cobbett's Register of the preceding March 24th, to be libellous and scandalous, and a breach of privilege. The Baronet resisted the Speaker's warrant ' upon principle,' wishing perhaps to make as much fuss about the affair as possible, and if so he gained his point, since for two entire dayji that part of Piccadilly where he resided, was blocked up by the mob, who kept shouting out, 'Burdett for ever!' — grateful music, no doubt, to his ears. The Guards were called out, and were received with vollies of stones. The whole of the West-end of the Town was in uproar and consternation, and dreadful, except in the ears of glaziers, was the smashing of windows by the mob, at the houses of Sir Francis' political adversaries. At length on the third day, the Baronet was conveyed to the Tower in a glass coach, with all possible privacy ; but on its reaching Tower Hill a conflict took place between the populace and the soldiery, in which one individual lost his life and several were woimded. On the proro- gation of Parliament, June 21st, the captive was liberated, but did not care to return home in the gaUant style which his friends and supporters intended. They had planned a triumphal procession from the Tower to Piccadilly, but had reckoned without the host, for on his getting out of the Tower, Sir Francis gave them the slip, crossed the river in a boat, and drove off in a carriage waiting for him on the other side, to his residence at Wimbledon. The Gates of the Tower, are now, in all probability closed for ever against prisoners ; therefore its history may be said to be closed too : but be it so or not, we will here close our gossiping on the subject. V ./o^^at^'?^'^^/^ ^^/i^,M/ laaflon , PtiMLibed for ■ftie rTopri«Drfi.>r J.liead, 10 Gougi Square. Fleev Street. J-BTis, MM Avi5)ert..>leiBng. T. O.Veigd. 81 WESTMINSTEE HALL. EXHIBITION OF SCTJLPTTJRES AND FBESCOES. A most surprising change, and one greatly for the better, has been wrought in the manners and tastes of the people within the lapse of a single century. Startling as it sounds, it was only a hundred years ago, that a species of brutal and ferocious lawlessness, utterly incompatible with order and public safety, was permitted to disgrace the metropolis of a civilized and enlightened nation. In seventeen hundred and forty four, the civic authorities were obliged to represent to the king the unbearable pitch to which the outrages perpetrated by the ' Mohocks' — the name assumed by a class of ruffians who then infested the town — had reached. In eighteen hundred and forty-four, Mohocks are among the things that have been, and have also been forgotten, and we have gotten instead, a taste — at least a sort of relish for art ; and what is more, there is a disposition to extend its harmonising influences among all classes of the people. This contrast between the times of George the Second, and those of Queen Victoria, is not a little striking, nor a little flattering also to us of the present day, and therefore we would recommend it to the especial consideration of those who fancy that society degenerates, — that as the world grows older it grows worse, — that the march of intellect and improvement is aU a mere mirage whose flattering appearance conceals a quagmire into which we shall eventually sink. In 1743, Vauxhall — then in its second season — was the universal admiration of the public, who were at a loss how duly to express their astonishment at its wondrous magnifi- cence. In 1843 another hall — no other than Westminster Hall, so long sacred to the gentlemen of the long robe and their chents, — ^was opened for an exhibition of Cartoons, and again in the present year there is a second one of Frescoes and sculpture. Law has been turned out, and Art has been let in. Who would have dared to prophecy such an event, we will not say a century, but even ten years ago? Assuredly no one who did not wish to pass for a mere dreamer and visionary. Yet though congratulation is loud, gratitude is silent ; artists and the public are alike unmindful of the origin and real author of it all. Had it not been for the awful and lamentable conflagration, or, as it must now be styled, the " glorious and felicitous flare-up" on the ever-memorable night of October the 16th, 1834, — ^whose anniversary is, no doubt, duly and joyously celebrated by one individual, if by no other ; — had it not been, we say, for such happy calamity, we should never have had the New Palace of Westminster, and without that, should in all probability VOL. II. M 82 LONDON INTERIOKS. never have thought of introducing Fresco-painting in this country, at least, not upon such a wholesale scale as is now proposed to be done. But then, whom have we to thank for the Fire itself? — it was not the effect of either spontaneous combustion or inflammatory language. The damage done would have been inconsiderable, had Mrs. Wright not been a little in the wrong, disregarding the warnings of fire, given her, it seems, by her own nose. We do not say that that worthy lady can exactly be called a Mrs. Fry for having fried the old Houses of Parliament for the nonce ; nor do we suppose that in emulation of that classical example. Miss Thais, she ' led the way,' with a lighted * tallow' in her hand, " And like another Helen, fired another Troy." Still full credit may be given her for her passive patriotism on this occasion — certainly with as much justice as many important public events are identified with the princes in whose time they have occurred. For our part we should certainly decree a statue to Mrs. Wright among those which it is intended to erect within the walls of the new edifice ; ■ — or if not a statue, at all events a bust, with a legend borrowed from Wren's epitaph ; ' Si monumentum quseris — circumspice !' — Look around on the bright array of Fresco- painting and sculpture, of storied windows and heraldic emblazonments, of polychromy and carving, of tracery and fretwork ; and while ye contemplate this glorious panoply of art, bestow at least one passing thought on her to whom you are primarily indebted for it all Whatever others may feel, we are truly grateful to Mrs. Wright, and with most just cause, since the recollection of her has enabled us to write thus far easily and pleasantly to ourselves,— perhaps not very tediously to our readers. Our former view of Westminster Hall, (in Part XX.) represented it fitted up on a different occasion, and for a very different purpose, viz., the trial of Warren Hastings, when its walls echoed at intervals during seven successive years to fierce declamation and furious invectives, in lieu of which there now prevails the less noisy eloquence of painting and sculpture. As we have nothing now to add to the remarks which we have already made upon the Hall itself, we are in no danger of wearying our readers by architectural comment. All that we have to do is to call their attention to its general appearance in its new character of an exhibition room, for which purpose, though never intended, it is in some res- pects excellently adapted ; because, instead of interfering with, or conceahng any of its fea- tures, the pictures and statues rather serve to fill up the blankness of the lower part of the walls, and impart life and animation to the coup d'ceil of the whole interior, which was not a little scenic, and which was at times considerably enhanced by particular effects of extraordinary brilliancy, whenever a gleam of sunshine darting through all the windows, fell upon some of WESTMINSTER HALL. 83 the statues and groups, kindling them into almost dazzHng lustre. What especially renders this Hall so good a model for a Picture Gallery, in one particular is, that lofty as it is, it is impossible to hang up pictures higher than the bottom of the windows., or about eighteen feet from the floor, or somewhat less than one-third of the whole height ; whereas it too frequently happens at most other exhibitions of pictures, that not only is the general appearance injured by their being packed up row above row, from the floor to the very ceiling, but a considerable number of them are put quite out of sight, or what is nearly the same, where they cannot possibly be properly seen, and never are looked at. Another circumstance greatly in favour of this exhibition as an exhibi- tion, was, that the pictures being all of large, and pretty nearly of the same dimensions, they so far formed a more consistent collection than is the case when the assemblage of them is a mere medley as to sizes, and not only that, but smaller subjects are placed above larger ones, — partly, perhaps, in order to avoid the awkward ' top-heavy' efiect that would . take place were all the larger frames to be hung up above, and all the smaller ones below. In regard, likewise, to the exposition of the Sculpture, the very superior efiect produced by the manner in which it is arranged along the middle of the Hall, compared with that in which it is huddled together at the Royal Academy, must have struck every one. In the room appropriated to, but not adapted for sculpture, at the Academy, the larger figures have the look of being smothered, there being scarcely sufiicient space to obtain a proper view of them — indeed hardly sufficient for those who visit that room — and they are com- paratively few — to stir about. Accordingly the sculpture part of the exhibition has told with unusual effect at Westminster Hall, where it has probably been aided in some degree by its being relieved and set off" to advantage, by the depth of shadow and background. So seen, the effects of the sculpture had even somewhat of novelty in it, — perhaps, was more prepossessing as a whole, than that of the paintings ; nay, perhaps the sculpture showed better in comparison with the latter, than they did in comparison with the sculpture, and that for two if not more reasons. First, because being of the same colour, or rather, colourless, the statues seemed to be of more uniform taste than the paintings, which mani- fested great disparity of colouring and execution ; next, because they were not, as was the case with the frescoes, experiments in regard to a new — at least unpractised process of the art, and its manipulation. With the painters, it was almost as much a trial of strength in respect to mechanical skill and manual dexterity, as in respect to choice of subjects, and the treatment of them ; whereas the sculptors had only to pursue the same modus operandi in which they had been trained up, and which they had all along practised. They therefore had not to contend, like the painters, with difficulties peculiar to the occasion, and arising from inexperience of the particular process to be followed. As we are not here writing a professed critique on the exhibition in Westminster Hall, «re shall not particularize any individual productions, or artists, but, confining ourselves to 84 LONDON INETRIORS, broad general remarks, give as our opinion that very few indeed of the frescoes gave satis- factory promise — and more than promise was not looked for, — of talent adequate to the important task of worthily decorating the walls of the New Palace of Westminister. A great proportion of them were so utterly inappropriate in point of subuct — for in that respect they would have been far better suited for ' AnnuaV prints, — that they seemed intended to challenge notice only for a merit in which some of them were most grossly deficient — namely that of execution. Neither were inappropriateness of subject, and im- perfection of execution, the sole or even principal defects to be laid to their charge, for there was the more hopeless one of deficiency in regard to the mental qualities of an, — poetic conception ; elevation of ideas, geniality of sentiment, and con-amore earnestness. There were undoubtedly several very clever performances, — but then Clever ! — who eve, heard of a clever epic poem ? or spoke of Milton as a clever poet, and of Rafiaelle as a clever painter? — no one, except those who would describe an eagle as ' a nice pretty bird,' or else admire the majesty of a canary in its cage. Our artists, it is to be apprehended, must turn over a new leaf in their lesson book,df they woidd get beyond that said ' cleverness' which at present satisfies the public, who have greater relish for and better understand mere matter-of-fact, whether it be portrait, land- scape, or genre, than the poetic and ideal. In saying this, we must not be understood as wishing to depreciate, or being insensible to the merits of this lower branch of art. On the contrary, if it be treated with real talent and geniality, we hold it to be preferable to the loftier style of art, when the latter rises no higher than the 'passable' and the 'respect- able,' and although dressed out in the livery of poetic dignity, is essentially — intus et in cute — prosaic and common-place, and its greatness merely littleness magnified — a flea in a microscope made to look to the eye as big as an elephant. It is supposed by some that artists' ideas expand as matter of course, in proportion to the amplitude of surface which they have to cover, and to the dignity of the subjects which they undertake to represent : yet we are somewhat sceptical on that point. No doubt, he who has a capacity for great things, mil feel himself fettered, cramped, confined, if tied down to small ones ; so as to be inca- pable of putting forth his energies ; but then, unless the energy be in the man, the mere opportunity of exerting it, however favourable, wiU not create it for the occasion. In a matter which is yet still sub judice, having gone through little more than one stage of experiment, any decided opinion of ours would be no less rash than presumptuous. If the 'Coixmiission of Fine Arts' will be content with such works in Fresco as will not dero- gate from the character of the other decorations, and that of the building itself, it may look forward to reasonable success, more especially as a considerable time will be afforded the artists for study before they can commence their labours on the walls. In the mean- while there is something to be done by the public also : they must wean themselves oi some of their present tastes if they would would relish any thing much higher in painting than what they have hitherto patronized or been accustomed to. 86 EXHIBITION OF THE EOYAL ACADEMY. If great cities have — as cannot be denied — their peculiar evils, they have also their peculiar compensations, and foremost among them are the facihties afforded for the cheap gratification of intellectual tastes, by galleries, mujseums, and exhibitions of virorks of art, not to speak of others of a more scientific nature. Even Cowper has admitted as much, and that the metropolis, more especially, is the focus and rendezvous of art, notwithstanding his aversion to town-life generally, and his quaintly pious remark : — ' God made the country, and man made the town.' which line, we may observe en passant, looks very much like a plagiarism from, though \t may be only an accidental coincidence with, that of Cowley's — ' God the first garden m»de, and the first city, Cain.' But when Cowper wrote his ' Task,' London was by no means so well provided with pic- ture exhibition as at present. At that time the Royal Academy was in its infancy — at least only in its teens, not having been formally instituted by charter under such title, till 1768, although it had existed three years previously imder that of the ' Incorporated Artists ol Great Britain.' The Academy first took possession of its apartments in Somerset House, in 1780 ; and its annual exhibitions there were for many years the only ones of the kind, therefore unrivalled, or at any rate rivaUess. Since then, however, several other annual exhibitions have been established, viz., those of the ' Society of Painters in Water colours' (1804,) the British Institution (1805,) the Suffolk Street Society, or that of British Artists (1825,) and the New "Water-colour Society, about eight years ago. Of the two W^ater-colour Societies the exhibitions are not only confined to that par- ticular branch of art, but receive no other works than those by their own members, conse- quently are upon a limited scale and contain fewer productions. Yet if so far these Sectarians in art — so to call them — hold out fewer attractions as to the ntmiber of their performances, and show less as to quantity for the shilling they take, they give a good honest * shilling's worth' in point of quality. The exhibitions of the elder of these two Societies have invariably been — at least for as long as our own recollection of them goes back — certainly full as choice as exclusive. They manifest far greater equality of talent and merit, than do the more miscellaneous ones, for in them hardly anything is ever to be found that can be pronounced decidedly poor ; neither is anything lost by being thrust into a corner where it is likely to be overlooked. Although merely matters of regulation and management, these circumstances alone tend to elevate the character of this Society's 86 LONDON INTERIORS. exhibitions ; but leaving its annual musterings before the public out of the question, this body has done so very much for art, that we may be excused for mentioning its services in this place, lest another opportunity should not be afforded us. Water-colour Painting may fairly be considered an entire new species of art; one discovered, we may say, in this country, now brought by us to such a degree of perfection as hardly to leave any further advance either attainable or imaginable. What was previ- ously so called was not painting, but merely tinting and washing, very much after the same mechancial manner that maps or prints are coloured. The vehicle of colours is the same as before, but the management of them — the process and manipvilation have been entirely changed, whereby a depth of tone and fulness of colouring have been produced which compete with the force of oil-painting ; they also possess both artistic breadth of effect and geniality of execution — qualities which it is in vain to look for in any works of the original school ; whose performances were not only ' water' but watery — so faint, feeble, and spirit- less as to be the merest milk-and-water of art. We do not pretend to say that water- colour can accomplish all that oil can, it being inevitably restricted to pictures of small dimensions, consequently is not to be thought of for historical subjects of the size of life : — possibly it might be applied with success to life-size portraits, showing only the head and upper part of the bust, but we are not aware of its having been yet employed for such purpose. It is quite enough for its credit that it is capable of producing exquisite cabinet pictures of figure subjects and genre ; and that it possesses pecuUar advantages for the representation of landscape and natural scenery, which it expresses with a suavity, a clear- ness and a freshness of tints, surpassing those of oil. In regard to architecture again, its services cannot possibly be estimated too highly, for it has given rise to quite a new school of architectural delineation, combining truthfulness and technical accuracy with the most delightful pictorial expression and effect. Oil hardly admits of the firmness and precision of outline requisite for similar subjects, or if obtained, it is apt to occasion hardness and dryness. Even wliat pictures we have seen of Peter Neef's have fallen so very far short of the expectations raised by his celebrity, as to quench our eagerness to behold more of them> for to us they have appeared at once laboured and insipid, and treated quite mechanically, without any sort of gusto or sentiment. On the contrary, water-colour as now practiced, has been the means of greatly advancing architectural representation, and of rendering it more popular, by rendering it more pictorial, Indirectly to that, in the first instance, and more immediately to the invention and application of lithography, we are indebted for many publications of high excellence, — such as those by Haghe, and Joseph Nash, and among foreign ones — the truly admirable and intensely interesting ' Espana Artistica,' of Villa-amil. At all events, if water-colour itself is to be considered as a lower, or rather a less dignified grade of art than oil-painting, England has reason to be proud of those artists who have refined and elevated it into what it now is — a mode of painting fraught with great capabilities and excellence, and one in which this country decidedly takes the Ipad. WESTMINSTER HALL. 87 This * Water-»colour', and the other Societies above jientionsd, are merely private associations, formed by artists among themselves, chiefly for the purpose of enabling them to exhibit their productions at stated periods, and more advantageously than if they were mixed up with, and absorbed into a larger general collection. But the Societies themselves claim no authority nor make any pretence to the character of seminaries or conservatories for training up students. In this country the only formally instituted and privileged col- lege of art is the Royal Academy ; and as the nimiber of its members is limited by its char- ter to forty, and they are admitted only by election, from among individuals of some standing and reputation in their respective walks of art, the title of Academician or aflfix of R. A., to their names is considered a rather important distinction — equivalent in fact to a high ' university degree.' There are, however, in addition to the Academicians, eighteen Asso- ciates, or A. R. A.'s. the latter grade being generally the initiative to the higher one ; — also six Associate Engravers. Besides the three Professors of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture^ there are two others for those elementary, but most important branches of design, Perspective and Anatomy. As to the title and office of President, we need not observe, that they constitute the highest pinnacle of an artist's ambition, as far as fame depends upon nominal distinctions ; and they also give a certain rank in society. The President is the Premier in the ministry of art, — or he may be styled its Lord Chancellor, and his chair of office the woolsack, towards which many look with longing eyes ; or againi to change the comparison, that Jionoured seat is the ' Lambeth' of academical advancement and preferment. Honoured we may well call it, since it has been filled by Reynolds, West, and Lawrence ; the first of whom exercised his pen as well as his pencil with such ability, that his " Discourses" have established for him the reputation of a classic in our literature. Nor is he the only academician who has given his lucubrations to the public, for we have also the printed lectures of both Fuseli and Opie. Nay, the present President had at one time some yearnings after hterary renown, " when, A truant from his pencil to his pen, He wrote, — and to enhance the crime, Coquetted with the muse, in rhyme." — It was, however, not in rhymes amatory, but in " Rhymes on Art," when though the letters R. A. were the initials of his book, they were not his own. The reputation of the Academy's lectureships is ably supported at present by Professors Howard and Westmacott, on painting and sculptoire respectively, and some of them have been reported at length in the Athenasum. These shew that there is still mind and energy among the Academicians, notwithstanding that there has been a disposition of late to attach the Royal Academy, as a mere monopolising" clique, less anxious to promote the generai interests of art, than their own private ones. It has been further alleged against it, that it afiords too much encouragement to portrait-painting, and too little to other depiartments of 88 LONDON INTERIOKS. art. More reasonably, perhaps, might it be objected that the Academy treats two of the ^rts which it professes to take under its especial protection, viz. Sculpture and Architec- ture, with less of maternal than stepmotherly feeling. The majority of the members being painters, accounts for this bias, but then all the more necessary is it, that it should be guarded against, and steps taken to counteract it ; at least, there might be greater vigilance and energy on the part of those who more immediately represent those particular interests. It is unfortunate for the Academy that they have gained very little, if, indeed, anything at all, as to accommodation in point of space, by exchanging their former apartments in Somerset House for those which they now occupy in Trafalgar Square. The chief advan- tage gained is, that there is not the same fatiguing length of dismal staircase to encounter as before. The present building accuses, if not its architect, his employers, who limited him to a narrow slip of ground, neither allowing him to bring his btiilding forwarder in front, nor to extend it behind, by removing the other buildings at its rear. Neither did Mr. Wilkins himself manage quite so well as he might have done under such unfavourable circumstances, for he gave up too much space in the centre of his plan to mere approaches, without having obtained anything like a corresponding degree of architectural effect, for the whole of it looks strangely confused and cut up, and to be little better than so much space thrown away where there was none at all to be spared. In fact, the whole of the building is not at aU more than what is now actually required for the exhibition-rooms of the Royal Academy, or will eventually be needed for those of the National Gallery, and very shortly too, if additions continue to be made to that collection, as they have been ; unless, indeed, the 'packing system,' is to be allowed at the end of the building also. So very different are the two modes of hanging, that one would imagine the Academy had never peeped into the other half of the building occupied by them, or they would have taken a lesson from it, and although they cannot enlarge or add to the number of their rooms, they might at any rate * cut their coat according to their cloth,' and reduce the number of the pictures they hang up, which would have the further good effect of improving the quality of their exhibitions, by excluding from them a great deal of mere filling-up staff, and a second good consequence would be, that more credit would then be attached to the having a picture exhibited at the Royal Academy. Perhaps our Engraving may be thought rather incorrect in one respect — namely as showing but a beggarly account of * shillings,' but at all events it shows a * sovereign', the scene introduced being that of the royal private view of the pictures on the Friday pre- ceding the opening of the Exhibition. On the following day, another annual ceremony takes place, which is a less empty and idle one than ceremonies in general — namely, the Academy's Annual Dinner, when they have for their guests the noble and honoured of the land, bidden to their entertainment by express invitation, admission to it not being by tickets for sale. BRITISH MUSEUM. THE EGYPTIAN ROOM. The statuary portion of the general collection of Egyptian antiquities, is deposited in the Hall which forms the north end of the west side of the Museum ; and when the whole of that side of the building shall have been completed, there will then be a continuous gallery nearly four hundred feet in extent, and presenting an uninterrupted vista from end to end, since there will be no positive separation between the ' Halls' distinguished by names according to their respective contents, but merely such architectural division to the eye as is produced by columns so placed as to define the various compartments of the plan. When terminated, this gallery or series of galleries will present a very striking architectural per- spective, set off and peopled with sculptured forms and masses. This wiU be better conceived when we say that the accompanying engraving, — in which the view is taken from the door at the North end commimicating with the staircase leading to the upper galleries— shows only to about midway of what will be the entire length, as much more remaining to be added to the South, on the site of the suite of rooms now occupied by the Townley Marbles, &c. "When that shall have been done, the present temporary partition walling up the columns at the end will be removed, and the whole thrown open. Hardly need we observe that the perspective eflfect will be decidedly superior to the sort of it that would take place were the whole laid out as one uniform space or single long room, since that must be sufficiently apparent from the portion here represented. Take away the intermediate columns, for instance, and throw both compartments into one perfectly similar design, and the character of this * interior' would be rendered both flat and monotonous ; whereas now, notwithstanding that the architecture itself is exceedingly plain as to style — ^in fact even studiedly severe, and perhaps not improperly so, considering the kind of objects of art here exhibited, — it becomes fraught with variety and relief; we obtain picturesque contrasts of lines and masses, alternations of light and gloom, and a sort of artificial distance in the space behind or rather beyond the columns, which being only partly disclosed to the eye, leaves something for the imagination to work upon. In such cases the best drawing must fall short of reality, because it can show objects only as they are seen from one fixed point of view, whereas in tJie VOL. II. N 90 LONDON INTERIOKS. place itself a fresh piece of perspective, a different combination of objects — in. short, a new picture may be obtained at almost every step, accordingly as the spectator shifts his station and views the scene in this or that direction. This is particularly the case here, because the immense masses of Egyptian sculpture form, when viewed singly, so many separate principal objects, to which, whatever else falls within the field of vision, become back- ground. Columns have been said to be to the interior of a building what trees are to a landscape, and in like manner these huge fragments may very well be likened to rocks, and described as such in architectural scenery. In galleries built expressly for the reception of sculpture, the more usual mode is tO light them from their ceiling or roof; but that was here impracticable, because had it been done, there could have been no upper floor, but all those rooms must have been lost Equally impossible was it for the appropriation of the two floors to be reversed, by the collections of natural history being placed on the ground floor, and the sculpture on the upper one, since even the firmest vaulting would not have been able to resist the enormous weight of some of the marbles. In addition to the astonishment occasioned by the sight of the things themselves, some is also felt when we come to consider the very great cost and difficulty that must have attended, in the first instance, the removing and bringing over to this country some of the colossal fragments and bits we here behold, and afterwards the transporting them to the building and placing them in the gallery. This last required the nicest consideration, for they are as firmly fixed and rooted to the spot selected for them, as if rooted to it ; they are a sort of furniture that cannot be shifted about at pleasure ; they are not made to run upon castors ; they have no idea of running, nor of being wheeled about at pleasure, — ^in a word they scorn to be treated as mere moveables, and we might as well hope to move by entreaty some of those grim, lion-visaged gentry to rise from the seats they have so long occupied, and place themselves more conveniently. The arrangement which has been fixed upon cannot now be altered, yet whether it be at all an objection in itself or not, it is certain that the collections of antiquities will be disposed inversely to chronological sequence, as regards the order in which they present themselves to visitors, the latest coming into sight first, and the very earliest last. In the Glyptothek at Munich, the sculptures form a seriatim arrangement, commencing with the incunabula of art, and following it through its progress and decline to its revival in modern times ; viz., — Egyptian, Etruscan, Eginetan, and early Greek, pure Greek, Greco-Roman, and Roman, and lastly some works of Canova and Thorwaldsen, as the representative of modern sculpture. But at the British Museum this order is reversed, for here, entering at the South end of the gallery, the visitor will have his attention first arrested by the later and miscellaneous antiquities ; then proceed to the collection of Greek and Roman marbles, then to the Xanthian, the Phigalian, the Elgin, till he BRITISH MUSEUM. 91 reaches the Egyptian collection, unless he chooses to continue his walk to the end of the gallery, before he enters the Elgin Room, reserving that by way of bonne louche to the very last. After all, however, the matter is one of very little moment in itself, — rather one of mere punctilio and precedency, because it does not by any means follow that th&. order in which the collections are first seen, is that in which they must be studied, and as to the ordinary sight-seers who go merely to stare and wonder, it makes very little difference to them whether Chronology walks backwards or forwards, except any of them should be of opinion that the objects in the Museum might have been better * sorted out' as to sizes, and that some of the larger specimens of natural history, — saurians, and others of huge class, might very well be made to keep ccjmpany with, and keep in countenance the granite and basalt — or as we once chanced to hear them termed, — the hay-sailed monsters of the Egyptian tribe. Of these collections of sculpture nearly the whole have been the acciunulation of late years ; up to the end of the last century, the antiquities were the scantiest and smallest part of the contents of the Museum. The acquisition of the several monuments of Egyp- tian art, obtained by the capitulation of Alexandria in 1801, and ordered by George III. to be deposited in the Museum, laid the foundation for that collection, and was the occasion of the first addition being made to the old building. The purchase of the Townley mar- bles in 1805, soon rendered further addition in building necessary, and in 1108, the suite of small rooms — well adapted to display their contents, but too diminutive in a gallery for public resort, therefore doomed to be taken down — were first opened. That purchase, for which Parliament voted the sum of £20,000, was confined to the marbles and terra- cottas, accordingly the remainder of the Townley antiquities, consisting of a number of bronzes, coins, gems, drawings, &c., were purchased for the nation, from the Townley family, in 1814, at the sum of £8,200. Either by purchase or bequest several individual works of merit have since enlarged the original Townley collection, and increased the num- ber of Greek and Roman sculptures; among them are a small assemblage of busts, bequeathed by Mr. R. Payne Knight, a statue of Hadrian bought of Mr. Milligan, and that called the Venus of the Capitol, which was presented by William IV. The years 1815 and 1816 were two highly memorable ones in the history of the British Museum, the former enriching it with the Phigalian, the other with the Elgin or Athenian Marbles. The first mentioned of these are so called from having been dug up at Phigalcia in Arcadia, where they formed the sculptures on the frieze of a temple ; and they are most valuable relics of art, being known from the description of Pausanias to be genuine works of the earlier period of the school of Phidias. They were presented to the nation by the Prince Regent (George IV.), who had purchased them at a cost little short of £20,000. The Phigaleian, and inclusive with them, the casts from the ^ginatan Marbles, form a most appropriate vestibule to the saloon which contains the Elgin Marbles. This \ 92 LONDON INTERIORS. ' room — in itself remarkable only for its spaciousness — enshrines those treasures which have obtained the homage of the world {suhaudi of art) as the matchless productions of Grecian sculpture at its zenith, when it had attained that culminating point under Phidias and his contemporaries, whence to advance was to begin to decline. As is well known, these sculp- tures originally adorned the Parthenon, yet are only the savings of a wreck compared with their first number, since they amount to no more than fifteen of the metopes from the south entablature of the edifice, a portion of the frieze of the cella, and some of the figures from the pediments. Unlike many of the Egyptian antiques, which, though per- haps some thousands of years older, are not in the slightest degree touched by time, these Athenian marbles are all more or less so much corroded, if not mutilated, as to have very little attraction for the uneducated eye. — But we may take our leave of the Elgin Marbles for the present, as we shall have another opportunity of noticing them more particularly, and therefore pass on to notice the latest and certainly not the least — in point of extent — of the several accessions which have been made to the stores of antiquity in the Museum. We allude to the Xanthian Marbles. They were discovered by Mr. Charles Fellows while that gentleman was travelling in Asia Minor, in 1838, not at all in quest of antiquarian adventure or enterprize, but merely pour se desennuyer after the London season. In the vicinity of the ancient city of Xanthus he was so lucky as to meet with a number of rock- hewn tombs covered with sculptures. On his return to England, the discovery was considered of sufficient importance to deserve the attention of government, and it was accordingly determined that some of those antiquities should be forthwith brought over to this country. The result has been that not only one but a second importation of these more singular than intrinsically valuable curiosities, has been made. The last was a very abundant one, consisting of no fewer than one hundred and twenty large packages, most of whose contents are for the present deposited in the vaults and cellars of the Museum. Some of these Xanthian fragments have been put together, arranged exactly as they were before taken down, and form what Mr. Fellowes describes as the * Harpy tomb,' the reliefs upon it being supposed to represent the story of the carrying away of the daughters of King Pandarus by harpies. — This mass of sculpture comes into view in the engraving, where it forms a marked object in the centre of tlie second or further division of tlie gallery. 93 THE BRITISH MUSEUM. THE GKEAT ZOOLOGICAL GALLERY. So varied are the stores of the Museum that aU will there find gratification for their inteUectual tastes, however opposite may be the direction they take. The artist and the naturalist, the antiquary and the man of science will alike meet with what is congenial with their respective pursuits ; therefore, although no one department will be universaUy interesting in the same degree to all — some, perhaps, of no interest whatever to a great many — each is respectively of paramount importance to those whose studies are connected with it. While Lycian and Athenian marbles may be deemed little better than so much lumber — at any rate, puerile and ' pagan ' curiosities, whose value is only conventional — by those who contemplate with admiration such objects as Saurian fossUs and osseous remains, the wrecks and monuments of a primeval world anterior to all tradition ; while such may look at the precious collection of Hamiltonian vases,* with as much indifference as they would at similar articles of modern pottery in the show-room of a Staffordshire manufactory of them, or at the quaint contents of a closet of old China ; those whose virtu- smitten enthusiasm kindles at the sight of that priceless relique, the Portland vase, would resign without a sigh aU the three kingdoms of natural history, animal, vegetable, and mineral. These last have no sympathy to bestow upon Crustacea and spiders ; their affection for zoology does not extend beyond those specimens of it which are supplied by the horses in the Elgin marbles, and by idealized Egyptian lions. If, therefore, every class of students had its veto, and might vote for turning out those particular collections, which it considers comparatively useless, almost a general dispersion would take place, and the galleries of the Museum be nearly emptied. The Natural History Department was the principal one in the original Sloanean collection, which formed the basis and nucleus of the present greatly enlarged and extended contents of the Museum, in connexion with that branch of human science. The formation of his cabinet of natural history, which contained upwards of thirty thousand specimens, besides two hundred volumes of dried plants, had been, though certainly not the sole, one • This first great accession to the department of antiquities and art was made in the year 1772, ^en these vases, and other articles of Greek and Roman workmanship, were purchased of that eminent col- lector, Sir William Hamilton, for the comparatively small sum of £8,400, for at the time that collection of vases was the largest in Europe. P4 LONDON INTERIORS. main labour of Sir Hans Sloane's life — a life actively devoted to studies which then received scarcely any encouragement, as far as encouragement means the appreciation of them on the part of the public. The name of Sloane ought not to be merged into a mere titular distinction, bestowed upon those portions of the contents of the Museum which had originally belonged to him : the man himself deserves to be ranked among the worthies of England, in the very best, if not the very loftiest sense of that term. Certainly he was a most rare example of extraordinary desert crowned by extraordinary prosperity ; and, also, a singular one of infirmity of constitution in youth, succeeded by an unusually protracted old age. Of instances of longevity among the studious and learned, there are very few much more remarkable than Sloane, who, notwithstanding that he was exceedingly delicate in his youth, and suffered from a spitting of blood, from the age of sixteen to nineteen, reached his ninety-third year. Sir Hans was, though of Scotch family, a native of Ireland, where he was born, in the year of the * Restoration,' at Killileagh, in county Down. As soon as his health would permit, he applied himself to the study of medicine, as his future profession, and with so much ardour that his progress was rapid, and on visiting the continent he obta'oed the notice of several distinguished men of science : among others, the eminent Botanist Tournefort. At the age of twenty-five, he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society, and two years afterwards obtained the appointment of physician to the Duke of Albemarle, who was sent out as governor to Jamaica. The death of the duke shortly after their arrival, cut short Sloane's prospects, and compelled him to return, but not, however, until he had formed an immense collection of plants, both in Jamaica and the neighbouring islands, and also accumulated materials for his magnum opus, the ' Natural History of Jamaica,' in two volumes folio, the first of which was published in 1707, but the other did not appear until twenty years later. On his return, after an absence of only fifteen months, he soon began to acquire a very lucrative practice, obtained the appoint- ment of physician to Christ's Hospital, 1710, and in the following year married a lady of considerable fortune. He was thus enabled to indulge without imprudence his passion for collecting, and what is more, to gratify the benevolence of his disposition, it being recorded of him that during the thirty years that he held his appointment at Christ's Hospital, he devoted the whole of his salary to charitable purposes. At length, having attained the age of eighty, he retired to Chelsea, where he had purchased an estate about twenty years before. There he still continued to enjoy the society of men of congenial minds and pursuits, who ever found a ready welcome in his hospitable tetreat ; and there, after a very short previous indisposition, he died, January 11th, 1753, full of years and honour, 'a goodly ripened fruit, not plucked but dropped.' The neighbourhood of Chelsea is not entirely without some reminiscence of the worthy and amiable physician, one half of his name being bestowed on ^ Hans Place,' and the other on 'Sloane Street.* We cannot, however, claim for him any high literary character. ' When Sir Hans BRITISH MUSEUM. 95 Sloane,' says D'Israeli, ' was the Secretary of the Royal Society, he and most of his corres- pondents wrote in the most confused manner imaginable. A wit of a very original cast, the facetious Dr. King, took advantage of their perplexed and often unintelligible descrip- tions ; of the meanness of their style, which humbled even the great objects of nature ; of their credulity, which heaped up marvels, and their vanity that prided itself on petty discoveries, and invented a new species of satire. Sloane, a name endeared to posterity, V hose life was that of an enthusiast of science, and who was the founder of a national collection ; and his numerous friends, many of whose names have descended with the regard due to the votaries of knowledge ; fell the victims. Wit is an ' unsparing leveller.' Yet even the shafts of wit recoil harmless from sterhng worth of character. King himself, too, is now almost forgotten — more, perhaps, than he deserves to be, for we are told that his ' Voyage to Cajaima,' a travestie of Sloane's History of Jamaica, is ' a peculiar piece of humour,' and one of the severest and merriest satires that ever was written in prose. These few particulars, relative to one who may be regarded as, if not the actual, in a manner the virtual founder of the British Museum, will hardly be deemed out of place here. Sloane seems to have had a presentiment that what he had begun as a private individual would be continued by the nation, and he accordingly directed by his will, that all his collections, his library (consisting of 5000 printed volumes, and 3,566 manuscripts) included, should be offered to it, for £20,000, a sum not amounting to one-fourth of their real value, nor to one half of what he himself had expended upon them. But for Sir Hans Sloane — his amassing his scientific treasures in the first instance, and afterwards the liberal terms on which he offered them to the nation — it is possible that we should have had no British Museum at all, at least, not until so very much later, that it would now be only in its infancy. Valuable as they were considered at the time, Sloane's own collections now form but an inconsiderable and comparatively unimportant part of the aggregate assemblage of natural history specimens, contained in the Museum. Since his time, rapid progress has been made in almost every branch of that science, and superior modes of study have been established. The departments of ornithology and mineralogy are now particularly rich : among the more valuable contributions to the latter, which have been made from time to time, may be mentioned a collection of fossils, made by Mr. Menzies, on the N. W. coast of America, and presented by George III, in 1797. Two years afterwards the Trustees purchased for £700, a well chosen collection of minerals of every class, consisting of 7000 specimens, which had been made by Charles Hatchett, Esq., during his travels in every part of Europe. The valuable and extensive GreviUe collection was added in 1810, when parliament voted £13,727 for the purchase of it. This was followed by the acquisition of the Beroldingen fossils in 1810, and afterwards of the splendid cabinet of minerals formerly kept in the Observatory at Kew — a donation from George IV. 96 LONDON INTERIORS. These various collections of minerals and fossils fill the cases of what is called the ' Long Gallery,' — the room represented in the accompanying engraving — which is over the King's Library, and occupies nearly the whole of the upper floor of the West side of thg Museum. The whole of the zoological department is deposited on the upper floor : the mammalia occupy the rooms of the South front, and the birds and shells are placed in the gallery just described, whose contents have been removed to the rooms on the North side of the North front, where there is accommodation for a considerably larger collection of minerals than that now formed. The fishes, reptiles, and zoophites, are placed in the rooms forming the South division of the North wing, so that all the zoological collections are brought together in adjoining rooms, except the entomological one, to which a room at the North-west angle of the building is appropriated. The galleries consist of rather more than sixteen thousand superficial feet of ' wall-cases ' alone. These do not rise higher than eight feet from the floor, although the height of the room is twenty feet ; yet although, should positive necessity for it occur, tlie height of the cases might be increased two feet more, it is not desirable that it should be done, as distinct an inspection of all the objects as possible, being a sine qua nm in the arrangement of a museum of natural history. ■/^' Lonifln; rabtasbea for tte &opri« 97 BRITISH MUSEUM. THE ELGIN GALLERY. Excepting merely for its size and unusual air of spaciousnesss, the Elgin Gallery is not at all remarkable as a room, otherwise than being remarkably plain, since it offers to the eye only four bare walls without other finishing than what they derive from being painted in imitation of porphyry. But then those four walls enclose the most precious relics of ancient art — chefs d'oeuvre of Grecian sculpture at its most palmy period, the Periclean age, — works from the chisel of Phidias and his contemporaries — treasures for which England is envied by the rest of Europe, — and which owing to its being linked to them, immortalize a name that would else have only figured in an obituary as that of a whilom British ambassador to the Porte. Lord Elgin needs no other monument, than these monuments of art — the Marbles called after him ; yet has the extensive fame, appa- rently so cheaply purchased, not been entirely exempted from penalty, it having been at one time greatly perilled and in imminent danger of being converted into ignominy. Both in prose and in poetry was bitterly energetic execrations bestowed upon his brother peer, by Lord Byron, who denounced him as the modern Alaric, and the modern Verres, — as the rapacious plunderer and ruthless spoiler of Athens. The noble bard, who was far from being the meekest, as he was from being the most milk-and-water of poets, expressed him- self even with savageness — not to call it ' Billingsgate,' — towards Elgin, as witness a coup- let in his * Curse of Minerva,' which although altered before printed, stood thus in the original manuscript : — " Ah, Athens ! scarce escaped from Turk and Goth,- Hell sends a paltry Scotchman worse than hoth." Luckily poetical anathemas break no bones, nor are they considered sufficient grounds for getting up an 'affair of honour.' In fact the excessive bitterness and vehemence of Byron's invectives, render them comparatively harmless, since hardly could they have been stronger had they been directed against some very heinous moral delinquency. It may be questioned, too, if the poet did not, for the sake of effect, assume a great deal more of both than he really felt. At all events his philippics gave a 'fillip' to Lord Elgin's celebrity, and served to keep it from falling asleep, as it afterwards did — for at the time of his death (Nov. 15th, 1841,) Elgin himself was nearly forgotten ; and if his name be now remembered, it is not that of the Man, but of the Marbles which have obtained that distinctive appellation. The charge brought against Lord Elgin, of mere wanton, barbarian spoliation, as if the organ of destructivenesss had in him been preternaturally developed, was a manifestly 98 LONDON INTEKIORS. absurd one, yet how far he was instigated by a disinterested love of art, and anxiety to rescue the immortal yet perishable and perishing sculptures of the Parthenon from further injury either by violence or by time, is perhaps questionable ; still whatever alloy may have entered his motives, the bringing them over to this country has enriched England, and the possession o^ them where they are now placed, must have an increasingly beneficial influence on the English school of sculpture. Had it not taken place when it did, the acquisition of those marbles — alias, the spoliation of the Parthenon, might not have been practicable, since after the establishment of King Otho's government, any idea of the kind would have been reprobated as notliing less than sacrilegious. Could the events which have since taken place, have even been anticipated as at all probable, the consideration founded upon some rational expectation of the kind, would, no doubt, have hindered the work of plunder, and preserved .the Parthe- non intact from further mutilation, as the noblest monument and palladium of the future Residenz. It must therefore be admitted that political changes and events have raised up an argument against the removal of the sculptures of that temple, which did not exist at the time they were carried off. They being gone, the glory of the edifice is departed ; and moreover, one great inducement to zealous aclivity in re-instating, as far as is practicable, all the buildings of the Athenian Acropolis. Although less accessible, or in fact, inaccessible to many, seen in their original situations as integral parts of the edifice into which they were formed, the friezes and metopes and the statues of the pedi- ments produced an impressive effect which is now destroyed. While the fabric stands bereft of what conferred on it matchless individuality, the sculptures themselves appear in their present receptacle as so many fragments. Neither can it be averred that their present accessibility has obtained for them any very great number of sincere admirers : as far as * the many' are concerned, they might as well have remained upon the Acropolis, since in their eyes they are no better than mere curiosities which excite no other admiration than the simple wonder that so much importance should be attached to things so little attractive in appearance, and otherwise so little striking and remarkable. The Elgin Collection, which was purchased by government, in 1816, for the sum of thirty-five thousand pounds,* consists of some of the reliefs of the metopes, of a portion of the frieze of the cella, and of some of the statues which filled the tympana of the pediments. Of the metopes, there are fifteen, taken from the south side of the edifice, exclusive of a cast from another which is deposited in the Louvre at Paris. We may here explain that metopes (which, together with triglyphs, are peculiarly characteristic of the Doric order, plainly distinguishing at the very first glance, its entablature from those appro- priated to the Ionic and Corinthian) are the square spaces or intervals between the triglyphs • Those gentlemen who were called upon to value the Marbles, varied very greatly in the estimate of toeir money-worth. While Mr. Payne Knight fixed no higher a sum than £25,000, Mr. W. Hamilton vikon than doubled that price, going as far as £60,800. BRITISH MUSEUM. OP of the frieze, consequently when, as is almost invariably the case, even in our most correct copies and professed imitations of that order, they are left plain, they cease to be decora- tions, and become no more than the surface on which the triglyphs — thus rendered the sole ornaments and the only parts of the frieze requiring to be particularized by a specific term — are raised. But although the practice of enriching metopes with sculpture is so rare among us, that we are unable to point out a single instance of it, among all our numerous neo-Doric structures, however scrupulously faithful they may be in regard to matters of detail, comparatively trivial and unimportant, —the Greeks themselves — whose taste must of course be allowed by those who profess to be guided by it, to be of paramount authority — conceived sculpture between the triglyphs to be essential to the general decoration of their Doric edifices. In the Parthenon the reliefs of the metopes represented the contest between tlie Centaurs and the Lapithoe at the nuptials of Perithous, the king of the latter people. The combat, however, is not shown after the manner which would seem most suitable for such a subject, because, instead of being treated as a general composition, it is divided into as many separate groups as there are metopes, each consisting of only two figures, a human one or a Lapitha, and a compound monster, half quadruped, half mdn, supposed to have been intended as a lively poetical, yet too literal and not particularly cesthetic personifica- tion of the people of Thessaly (the country of the Centaurs), who were so noted for their skill in horsemanship, as to be identified with the animals they bestrode, and with which they were in idea incorporated. In some of the metopes both the figures have lost their heads, in others only one of them, but there are also several in which they are both perfect, or nearly so. We have already ventured to hint above, at the want of continuity and breaking-up of the subject, occasioned by the dividing it into portions, in order to adapt it to the architectural compartments in which it was introduced ; but we hardly know if we may hazard a remark that will be thought to refiect upon the artistical skill and truth , displayed in works that have been pronounced perfection. Still we give it as our opinion, that relative proportion has been disregarded in these figures, for in some of the metopes, at least, the men are quite as tall as the horse-men, or men-horse, namely, the Centaurs. Of the Panathenaic Frieze, which originally extended altogether five hundred and twenty -four feet in length, along the sides and ends of the edifice, the Museum possesses about two hundred and fifty feet, with a continuation of somewhat more than seventy-six in plaster casts, the latter being from such portions of the sculpture as were not brought away, and from the single slab which belonged to the Due de Choiseul, and is now in the Louvre ; altogether, therefore, there are nearly three hundred and twenty-six feet. Although called a. frieze, this extensive work of sculpture did not answer to the ordinary technical meaning of that term, since it did not occupy the middle division of the entabla- ture, where, as has just been observed, the triglyphs left only the intervening square spaces 100 LONDON INTERIORS. or panels (metopes) for figures. The continuous frieze we are now speaking of, was carried along the external walls of the cella, or the enclosed part of the edifice within the colonnades, immediately beneath the soffit or ceiling of the latter, where it formed an uninterrupted line of figures in very low relief, and a graceful architectural border (three feet four inches deep), seen behind the columns.* The epithet Panathanaic was bestowed as a distinctive name on this frieze, because it represented the sacred procession to the Panthenon, held at Athens every five years, in honour of Athena Parthene, or the Virgin, the tutelary deity of the city. It consists of a long train of numerous figures of both sexes and all ages, some on foot, others on horse- back, or in chariots ; yet, besides that many of the figures are nearly obliterated — are now either headless or faceless — they do not manifest to the ordinary spectator any of that superlative merit which the enthusiasm of classical antiquaries and connoisseurs claims for them. On the contrary, there is much in them that must strike most persons as unnatural and incongruous : not only are the animals undersized in proportion to the human figures, but also too ideal, too conventional in style, and too bulky-headed to satisfy an English admirer and judge of horses. Then again, as to costume, a very great stretch of artistic license has been taken : for while some of the figures are completely draped, others are completely naked ! a circumstance so highly improbable as to be utterly incredible. Think of a modern sculptor venturing to indulge his classical taste so far as to represent a rojal procession to parliament with the Life-Guards in buff! At any rate, it must be acknow- ledged, even by its warmest admirers, that art excuses and reconciles us to many flagrant inconsistencies and actual untruths. Of the statues or sculptures belonging to the pediments of the temple, the Elgin Collection contains several : those from the Eastern one (which represented the birth of Minerva) being the portion of a figure of Hyperoin, the recumbent statue called Theseus, two goddesses supposed to be Ceres and Proserpine, a winged Victory, the Fates, and the head of one of the horses of Night. Those from the Western one (representing the contest of Minerva and Poseidon or Nepture for the guardianship of Attica) are, with the excep- tion of the magnificent figure personifying the river Ilissus, little better than fragments. Even the more perfect figures do not go far towards explaining the composition of the subjects represented in the pediments, which have accordingly been variously interpreted and conjecturally restored by different scholars and antiquaries. • Although, as has been observed, we know of no instance of a Grecian Doric entablature with sculp- tured metopes, neither do we know of one where an inner mural frieze is introduced behind the columns after the manner of that of the Parthenon ; we have one modern example of a continuous sculptured frieze, namely, that carried along the three fronts of the Athenaeum Clubhouse, Pall Mall— which is, besides, an avowed imitation, if not an express copy of the Parthenon one, without much regard, indeed, to meaning oi applicability. 101 BRITISH MUSEUM. THE ADDITIONAL LIBRARY. A general account of the literary collections of the Museum having been given in a previous part of this work, and that being sufficient for the purpose where most minute and historical and statistical details would seem out of place, little is now left for us to do beyond inserting such additional remarks and comments as the subject suggests to our pen. To proceed then — at least to set out, somewhat methodically, in our desultory and rambling article ; — the space devoted to the manuscripts and printed books occupies just one half of the principal or lower floor of the edifice, namely, all the rooms along its North and East sides. Of this latter the chief portion consists of a single apartment, three hundred feet in length, called the * Royal Library,' from its being exclusively set apart for the collection presented to the nation by George IV., and of which there is a separate printed catalogue in the Reading-rooms, filling five very large folio volumes. In immediate connection with this Library, at its South end, are the Manuscript-rooms. The apartments on the North side commence with the two Reading-rooms there, at the East-end, and beyond them are the other libraries, a series of halls, continued in a direct line and termi- nating in what is called the * Additional Library,' which has been recently fitted up, and which forms the subject of our Engraving. The view is taken looking from West to East, or towards the Reading Rooms, so as to show the whole suite in a vista of such extent that the farther part of it is lost in indistinctness. The width of these rooms, excepting the largest one* immediately next to the Reading rooms, and separated from them only by the * bar' at which the books are delivered, is 36 feet, but this is greatly contracted at intervals by additional bookcases being built out at right angles to the side walls, so as to divide each room into a series of smaller ones, leaving an avenue or walk of moderate breadth down the centre. This last circum- stance will be understood from the view itself, because fully expressed there ; but without explanation, it could be known from a perspective drawing alone, that what is thus seen is hardly a third part of the entire width of the room, the depth of the advanced bookcases, and of course also of the recesses formed by them, not being shown, for to do that would require another view taken in a cross direction — at least in a very oblique one. This • This room, which is 84 feet in length, is somewhat more in breadth, but the middle space is reduced lO 36 feet in width by antae-pillars dividing it on its sides into five distinct compartments or recesres, in which the bookcases arc disposed after the same manner as the room shown in the Engraving. 10^ LONDON INTERIORS. ' Additional Library' is of the same length as the larger one above-mentioned, viz.. 84 feet, but very differently proportioned, and of different architectural character, if only because the centre space or avenue between the side recesses has arches springing from the piers, although the general ceiling is flat. Although not at all in accordance with the style observed in the other rooms, these arches certainly contribute considerably to perspective effect, and give that division of the room the appearance of a gallery or corridor with a series of open cabinets along its sides. What character there is, however, depends entirely upon mere form and arrangement, the whole being exceedingly plain, and without any attempt at decoration ; nor is such plainness here misplaced, the room being not intended for public inspection, but exclusively as a repository for books, where it was indispensably necessary that space should be economised as much as possible, so as to render it capable of containing as many volumes as could fairly be packed into it, upon shelves. How this has been accomplished will be seen from the accompanying view, which shows that there is no shelfing from the floor to the very ceiling, with two tiers of light hanging galleries to afford access to the upper bookcases. The number of volumes thus provided for in this room alone, is computed at about one hundred thousand, more or less. What may be the extent of shelfing, supposing all the shelves in the different libraries were laid out in a single line, could be ascertained only by a positive survey for that purpose, but calculating according to the measurements of the rooms, and the book presses placed crosswise in many of them, thereby forming the recesses, each of which affords three surfaces or sides for books, — the total extent is not less than 70,000 feet, or somewhat more than Thirteen miles I — and even this computation is perhaps rather under than at all above the mark, inasmuch as in the ' Additional Library' the shelfing is continued uninter- ruptedly from floor to ceiling. Thirteen miles of shelves ! 'incredible!' some will exclaim, ' most alarming !' others. Those who are Malthusians in literature must regard with abso- lute horror such prognostications of over-fecundity, and must pray devoutly for the arrival of a second Omar to rid the world of those daily increasing and ever-accumulating masses of printed paper, which, unless further addition to them can be prevented, threaten finally to overwhelm it. If we may judge from our feelings, we should say that there is something actually oppressive to the mind in walking through such a library as that of the British Museum, or even through an extensive private library. To behold — still more to contemplate sucli accumulated stores of reading— shelves after shelves, to get through any single one of which would occupy the most indefatigable reader, — even did he rival Magliabecchi him- self, — full a twelvemonth, fills the mind not with despondency merely, but utter despair. How impressively are we then reminded of the shortness of life, when even a longevity equal to that of the patriarchs — and they had no libraries — would be insuflficient to enable any one to enjoy a tolerable fraction of such a collection, even supposing he could read BRITISH MUSEUM. 103 *' it the rate of a goodly sized folio volume per day. With what melancholy meditations, too is the sight of a vast library calculated to fill our minds ? It is a perfect cemetery — a catacomb of literature, with Memento Mori .'nscribed all around. How eloquent are those shelves crammed with immortal defunct, who although they have promised themselves, and were loudly promised by others, a lasting pei-petuity of literary renown, there lie as so many dead carcases ; even their very names forgotten or known only to plodding bibliographers, and to be found only in indexes and catalogues. A mile-long range of shelves might be filled with epic poems alone, which the world utterly ignores, admitting no more than half-a-dozen productions of that class to be deserving of regard and imperishable honour ; and willingly consigning all the rest to the rank of waste paper. Yet epics yield in numbers to the dense myriads of tomes of History, Divinity, Law, and other reading of that kind. Our comfort lies, if not in expectation of the torch of Omar, in the invention of waste paper ; and blessings on the mortal who first bethought him of thus averting from the world the calamity of an universal deluge of books. Had it not been for that, every dwelling house in the kingdom would by this time have become a cramful ware- house of printed paper. Startling as it is, this is a truth not to be disputed, nay, even a most tangible and self-evident one, when we perceive that a moderate collection containing only a single copy of each work requires the space it actually occupies at the British Museum. Hot is it either unadvisedly or ironically that we use the term 'moderate,' since such that library may fairly be called, in comparison with the enormous number of works (that is, of distinct publications) which have issued from the press since the first invention of printing. The very catalogues alone of printed books in the British Museum are so voluminous that it might be imagined they contained the title of every work ever produced. Exclu- sive of the separate catalogue of the King's Library, that of the general collection extends to no fewer than sixty-one folios. Nevertheless so far is that collection from being at all complete, that in some branches of literature and study, it is remarkably and most in- conveniently defective. In regard to many foreign literatures for instance, it is little better than a mere blank, although its actual deficiencies are not easily ascertainable, owing to the catalogue being merely an alphabetical one, without any sort of classification, or even the separation into difierent languages. Were there any divisions of the latter kind, we suspect that many foreign literatures — such as Danish, Swedish, Dutch, Polish, and Russian, would be found to be hardly represented at all, and a list of the books in the Museum belonging to some of them, would hardly occupy a few pages each. Such atleast is the conclusion to which our own experience of the catalogue leads us, since in vain have we searched it, not for rare and uncommon works in those languages, but for those which belong to the general and standard literature of the respective countries, and which ought to be included in a national collection, because such works are not likely to be otherwise 104 LONDON INTEBIORS. accessible to, or attainable by, private individuals in this country. There is a grievously sensible deficiency also in regard to foreign literary journals, and the inconvenience so occasioned is still further increased by the dilatoriness with which they are supplied, if not to the Museum, to those readers who have occasion for them, some of them not being placed on the shelves of the Reading-rooms, imtil so very long after they have beenpubh'shed, that by the time they are to be seen, the interest and service of them are very greatly diminished, and the purpose of them comparatively frustrated. We know not how to account for it, but many English publications, which one would almost of a certainty expect to find in the British Museum, are not in the catalogues, although they are very attainable. On the other hand, by way perhaps of set-ofi" against such strange deficiency, there is a still more strange redundancy of books which by no extent of courtesy can be called literature — except indeed it be the merest * rag-tail and bob-tail' of it. Conceive — ^but no, that is quite impossibl e; believe then, although the fact is incredible — at least, believing or not, listen reader, with profound wonderment, when we assure you that the * Child's First Book,' * Guy's Primer,' and hundreds of volumes of that grade, stand in the catalogue of a great national library ! Now, although the Museum is entitled by Act of Parliament to a copy of every thing in the shape of a book or pamphlet, it 13 not compxilsory upon it to receive and provide warehouse-room for all sorts of arrant lumber and trash, of which there is always plenty being manufactured. gor>9?3 ■^^^ ./■\ RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT 971,1 TO— ► 202 Main Library ccio± ) .# LOAN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 4 5 b ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date. Books may be Renewed by calling 642-3405. DUE AS STAMPED BELOW ?EPl519fiQ, AUTO.TilbL AUG 1 5 '^y ) CIRCHI ATir ^1 r ,# FORM NO. DD6 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY BERKELEY, CA 94720 U.C. BERKELEY LIBRA i'^^n^^lHE'Si'SHs^^^Kv.