roof, will always make this place live in my memory. The terraces are
very beautiful walks; and from Queen Elizabeth's terrace you have a
noble view of Eton College. Of course, we were pleased to see "the
distant spires and antique towers" which are so celebrated in the lines
of Gray. The college looms up finely, and greatly adds to the prospect.
Eton was founded in 1440, by Henry VI. The number of scholars is about
eight hundred and fifty. This college has produced some of the greatest
men in England, and the young nobility are generally educated here. The
college has two quadrangles, and the chapel is a fine Gothic building.
All this region is beautified by the Thames winding through the valley.
Here is the gem of villages, Datchett, where Sir Henry Wotton and Izaak
Walton used to enjoy the rod and line. No one who has any taste can come
to Windsor and not think of the immortal bard who has made so much
capital out of this place. At all events, we wanted to see Herne's Oak.
We took a carriage and passed the day in riding through the great park,
and took our way through the well-known avenue, called the Long Walk.
This is three miles in length, and has a double row of magnificent
elms. It is directly in front of the south side of the castle, and
terminates in a colossal equestrian statue of George III., standing on
an immense pedestal of blocks of granite. Nothing can exceed in beauty
the beeches of this park, which contains three thousand acres. Immense
herds of deer are seen under the trees. Nowhere have I seen such fine
old trees. Here is a beech-tree thirty-six feet round, seven feet from
the ground! One oak of similar size is called William the Conqueror's
Oak. We went to Virginia Water, the largest sheet of water--that is,
artificial--in Great Britain. We saw the little cottage where George IV.
passed so much of his time. It is a pretty place, but it only shows that
the mind is more likely to be pleased with the simple than the grand.
The gardener at the cottage--which I think is called Cumberland
Lodge--showed us through the conservatory. We did not much admire the
Fishing Temple, or the floating miniature navy. The scenery is charming,
and worthy of Poussin. The walk by the water, to the tavern, cannot be
surpassed. On our return we passed Frogmore, the residence of the
Duchess of Kent; it seems a pretty, unpretending place.
Nothing would repay the tourist better than to pass three or four days,
in this vicinity. Village after village, and villa after villa, claims
the admiration of the traveller; and perhaps England has no more
beautiful rural scenery than may here be found. We had seven or eight
hours of perfect delight upon our ride; and when we reached the White
Hart, at Windsor, we were well prepared for doing justice to an
excellent dinner. Our pleasure at Windsor was much increased by the
company of a gentleman of high literary reputation, and who is
distinguished as the author of several successful works.
Affectionately yours,
WELD
Letter 19.
LONDON
DEAR CHARLEY:--
We are just returned from a most pleasant visit to Sir John Soane's
Museum. This gentleman was an architect, and a most determined
antiquary; and when he died he left his wonderful collection to the
nation, having obtained an act of Parliament for preserving it and
endowing its maintenance. We obtained a government order, and went to
the house which was Sir John's private residence, in Lincoln's Inn
Fields. Never did I behold such a sight. The house is spacious, but
every nook and corner--and it is full of unimaginable ones--is filled up
with precious matters. Here are Roman and Grecian relics; fragments of
vases from Herculaneum; and the far-famed Egyptian sarcophagus brought
over by Belzoni. The latter is made of one piece of alabaster, nearly
ten feet long. It is inscribed all over with hieroglyphics, and cost Sir
John a large sum. I shall see nothing in all Europe that will take my
fancy as much as this museum, I am sure. There are twenty-five distinct
apartments; and if you can find a square foot in the house not occupied,
you would do more than I was able to. The catalogue of this museum I
shall value highly, and that will give you a better idea than I can of
its contents. I had no common pleasure in finding here the original
paintings of the Rake's Progress, by Hogarth, the engravings of which we
have so admired. These pictures were painted in 1734, and were bought by
Sir J. Soane, in 1802, for five hundred and seventy guineas. And here,
too, are Hogarth's great paintings of the Election--a series of four
pictures. These unrivalled works of comic art were bought of Garrick's
widow by Soane, in 1823, for sixteen hundred and fifty guineas! The
collection of paintings is by no means despicable, and we saw a few
pictures not soon to be forgotten. The Views of Venice, by Canaletti,
are very fine; and there are some gems by Reynolds, Danby, Turner,
Hamilton, Lawrence, and Bird. I must tell you how they have economized
room in the apartment devoted to pictures. The ceiling is very richly
adorned with ornaments, forming arched canopies. On the north and west
sides of this room are cabinets, and on the south are _movable planes_,
with space between for pictures. So, in a room of thirteen feet eight
inches by twelve feet four inches, there are as many pictures as could
be placed on the walls of a gallery of the same height, forty-five feet
long and twenty broad. In the crypt is an ancient tomb, and models, in
cork, of tombs, at Capua.
There are some precious _souvenirs_ of Napoleon to be seen,--as
portraits, miniatures, pistols, &c.,--a fine collection of painted
glass, and a countless lot of antiques, intaglios, autographs, and
watches. If ever you find yourself in London, I charge you, get to this
same place for a long morning. In the afternoon we took steamer and Went
to Greenwich, five miles from town, to see the Hospital for Seamen.
Charles II. built this place for a royal palace,--and a noble one it
is,--but William and Mary gave it up to the use of old and worn-out
seamen; and as England owes every thing to Jack Tar, it seems fit that,
when old and crazy, his last days should be made comfortable. A very
large income arises from the exhibition of the fine picture gallery here
to be seen. Here is quite enough to please any one who is curious, and
to gratify boys amazingly; and this you will credit when I tell you some
things that we saw. The coat and waistcoat worn by Nelson when he was
killed, on the Victory, at Trafalgar; models of celebrated ships;
original painting of Sir Walter Raleigh; Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who was
lost, with all his crew, on the Scilly Islands, in Queen Anne's reign;
Admiral Kempenfeldt, lost in the Royal George, 1782; Lord Nelson; Lord
Collingwood; and almost all the great naval commanders of Great Britain.
Then, too, there are large paintings of the great sea fights. One of
Trafalgar, by Turner, is very fine, and so is a large one of Nelson's
death.
There is a room besides all I have alluded to, called the Nelson Room,
and which illustrates all his history; and there are, all about the
rooms, some exquisitely fine colossal busts, executed by Flaxman,
Bailey, and Westmacott. The chapel is thought to be one of the most
beautiful in England. The entire of this great national glory is kept in
the cleanest manner; and the only thing to complain of is a want of
politeness in the guides. This is in contrast to other places; for we
have found the guides very kind and civil at all other places. We have
recently visited the Queen's stables, by order from Mr. Lawrence. Every
thing was very clean and spacious. Some of the horses were exceedingly
beautiful. The harness-room made a display. The cream-colored horses
belonging to the state carriage are noble animals. I believe they are
brought from Hanover, or came originally thence. The state carriage is
an immense lumbering affair, made of carvings and gold. It must be of
great weight. The sides are richly painted. It is never used but at the
opening of Parliament and similar occasions. The queen's carriages which
are ordinarily used are numerous and very elegant, but in good taste.
One of our number--you may guess who it was--sadly wanted a hair from
the tail of the queen's favorite riding horse. The riding school is
spacious, but not much better than a private one that we know in New
York.
We took dinner one day at Soyer's Symposium, at Gore House. Soyer is the
great master of ceremonies in London for all matters of the _cuisine._
Gore House was once the home of Wilberforce and Lord Rodney, but is
better known as the residence of the late Countess of Blessington. It is
now a hotel. The grounds are extensive, and the trees are some of the
finest around London, and I have never seen a lovelier spot of the same
size. It is alive with blackbirds, thrushes, linnets, and goldfinches.
As you enter, you find a vestibule, which is called the cupola of
Jupiter Tonans. Through this you pass to "the hall of architectural
wonders," then to "the Blessington Temple of the Muses." This apartment
leads to "the Transatlantic Ante-Chamber," which is adorned with all
sorts of American emblems. Then there are, in succession, "the Alcove of
White Roses," "the Birth of Gems," and other rooms of great
gorgeousness. One room is the "Palace of the North," which is apparently
made entirely of ice, and out of the wall of which is issuing a polar
bear. In the pleasure grounds is a "baronial hall," one hundred feet
long, fifty broad, and thirty high; and besides this an enormous tent,
called "the Encampment for all Nations." Here, at a table four hundred
feet long, fifteen hundred persons can be dined at a cheap rate. A
table-cloth for this affair cost Soyer two hundred pounds sterling. We
had a very pleasant dinner with the Rev. Dr. Harris, President of New
College, whose works are so well known in America. The room we occupied
was "the Alcove of White Roses." The Symposium stands near to the
Crystal Palace, and accommodates the strangers admirably. That dinner
was two days ago, however; and I am reminded that another is necessary
today, and must leave off to prepare for it.
I am yours truly,
JAMES.
Letter 20.
LONDON.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
Yesterday we visited the two great ecclesiastical edifices of the
metropolis,--St. Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey,--and I will
endeavor to convey to your mind some idea of the impression which they
left upon my own. These structures are by name familiar to you, and you
have seen engravings of the mighty dome of St. Paul's and the double
towers of the Abbey. I had often gazed on these pictured
representations, but I find that they did not convey to my mind any
adequate notions of the originals. Like the Pyramids, or our own
Niagara, they must be seen to be understood. In so vast a place as
London, it is absolutely necessary for sight-seers to adopt something
like system in their arrangements; so we agreed to devote one day to the
examination of the metropolitan Cathedral Church, and of the ancient
edifice in which the monarchs of England are crowned. We quitted our
hotel at nine o'clock, and, pushing our way through the hurrying crowds
of the Strand, speedily arrived at Temple Bar. We then turned down a
dingy, narrow passage, on our right hand; this led us to the Temple,
which is like a little town of itself, and is almost exclusively
inhabited by lawyers. It was amusing enough to notice the gentlemen in
powdered horse-hair wigs and flowing black robes, like a clergyman's,
who every now and then emerged from some open door, and flitted across
the courts, each having a bundle of papers tied with red tape, or a book
under his arm. Whilst occupied in observing these Templars of modern
times, the tones of an organ fell on my ear, for we were close to the
Temple Church, one of the most beautiful sanctuaries in the world. The
early morning service was not concluded so we entered without ceremony.
Externally, the building has little in the way of architectural
decorations to recommend it. It is low, destitute of tower or steeple,
and surrounded by gloomy-looking lawyers' offices. But no sooner had we
crossed the threshold than a scene of surpassing beauty burst upon us. I
should here tell you that this edifice, which is intended for the
exclusive use of members of the Temple, is very ancient. The church
formerly belonged to the Knights Templars. It was built in 1185, and the
choir was added in 1240. For years and years the building was neglected
by the legal gentlemen; but in 1839 it was proposed to restore the
former glories of the place, and the outlay of seventy thousand pounds
has caused it to stand out in all its pristine beauty. The form of the
church is octagonal. The ceiling, sides, and altar are all decorated in
the mediaeval style. The pipes of the organ dazzle you with their purple
and golden splendors. The floor is of encaustic tiles. On the walls are
displayed the names and coats of arms of those members of the Temple who
have been raised to the dignity of judges. On all these objects the
sunshine, streaming through superbly-painted windows, produced quite a
kaleidoscope effect. The _coup d'oeil_ was almost too dazzling, and
strikingly contrasted in my mind with the primitive simplicity of our
New England churches. In this church I found that some great men had
been buried. The learned Sir John, Selden, the author of "Table Talk;"
Howell, whose old letters we have so much enjoyed together; Gibbon the
historian, and Oliver Goldsmith, lie just outside the church. The
preacher of this church is called the master of the Temple, and the
great Hooker once held this post. Having gratified our curiosity by an
inspection of this gem of church architecture, we quitted the building,
and, after a pleasant stroll through the Temple Gardens,--a sweet spot,
and spoken of by Shakspeare as the place where the distinction of the
Red and White Roses was first seen,--embarked on one of the river
steamboats, which rapidly conveyed us to Blackfriars Bridge.
The finest view of St. Paul's Cathedral is, unquestionably, from the
Thames. When seen from the streets, only portions of its colossal
magnitude can be observed. On all sides it is hemmed in by houses,
which, pygmies though they be, prevent an uninterrupted view of the
architectural giant. But from the middle of the Thames, the cathedral is
seen in all its glory; towering above the surrounding marts of trade, it
stands out the grand point of attraction.
[Illustration: St. Paul's Cathedral.]
Here may be observed, to advantage, the surpassing beauty of the great
dome, which dwarfs the towers and steeples of the surrounding churches
almost into nothingness. The general aspect of the cathedral is said to
resemble St. Peter's, at Rome, but the symmetry of the dome of the
latter is acknowledged to be less beautiful than that of its London
rival.
We landed at Blackfriars Bridge Stairs; and, after ascending Ludgate
Hill, arrived at the great northern door of the cathedral. In reply to
the rap of our knuckles at the huge portals, it slowly swung back on its
hinges, and a grim, surly-looking face appeared. The figure which
belonged to the face was clad in a rusty and seedy black robe, from
beneath which a hand was thrust forth, and the words, "two-pence each,"
sounded harshly on our ears. Two-pence each was accordingly paid, and
then the surly janitor, or verger, as he is called, admitted us within
the building. In a moment afterwards, we were beneath the dome of St.
Paul's. If this part of the edifice has appeared imposing when viewed
from without, how much grander did it seem now that we stood on the
marble pavement below, and gazed upward into the vast concave which the
genius of Sir Christopher Wren had designed. The scene to my mind was
most impressive, and the impressiveness was heightened by a continuous
dull roar, which never ceased for a moment. This ceaseless noise was
produced by the numerous carriages passing and repassing without. The
concavity of the dome, I suppose, condensed the sound into a subdued
thunder, like that which one hears at a short distance from the Falls
of Niagara. Against the huge pillars, and in various niches, were the
statues of eminent men; some of them erected by the nation, as a
commemoration of naval or military services, and others as tributes to
great personal worth, or to public benefactors. Among the statues of the
men of peace, that of Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great lexicographer,
particularly interested me. The celebrated moralist is represented
seated. One hand holds a scroll, the other rests upon a pedestal. The
likeness is said to be well preserved. The sculptor was Bacon. There was
the capacious forehead, the thick bushy eyebrows, the large mouth, the
double chin, the clumsy person, and the thick, ungainly legs, which had
been rendered familiar to me through the portraits which I had seen in
the Johnsonia. As I gazed on that marble tribute to genius and worth, I
could not but remember, Charley, how Johnson had frequently walked the
streets of London all night, because he had not the wherewithal to pay
for a lodging. Near to Johnson's monument was that of Howard the
philanthropist. We noticed a very fine one to Sir Joshua Reynolds; also
statues to Bishop Heber, Abercrombie, Cornwallis, Sir John Moore, Sir
Astley Cooper, Sir Thomas Lawrence, and Benjamin West.
[Illustration: Dr. Samuel Johnson.]
But the greatest attraction of St. Paul's is the sarcophagus, in which
repose the remains of England's greatest naval hero, Lord Nelson.
Situated immediately beneath the centre of the great dome is a
diamond-shaped tablet, which marks the spot beneath which rests, after
his career of glory, the hero of the Nile and Trafalgar. His body rests
in a sarcophagus in the vaults below. Exactly beneath the tablet lies
the huge coffin, with the name "NELSON" engraven on its side.
No epitaph, no labored panegyric, no fulsome praise; and Englishmen, I
think, were right in supposing that the simple name of their hero was
enough for fame. This sarcophagus was made by Cardinal Wolsey; and here
Nelson was placed, in a coffin made out of the mainmast of the French
ship, L'Orient.
The grim verger recommended us to ascend to the dome, and, after paying
fresh fees, we mounted an enormously long and steep-winding staircase,
which led us to the base of the dome. Here was a circular gallery,
surrounded with a railing. Scarcely had we entered this gallery, when
the attendant purposely slammed the entrance door, and immediately a
loud peal, as of thunder, reverberated through the vast building; then
he requested us to listen whilst he whispered against the smooth wall
directly opposite to us. The effect was startling; every word was as
distinct as though the speaker's lips had been close to my ear. This is
known as the Whispering Gallery, and is one of the great lions of the
place.
We now prepared to ascend still higher, and, after a tedious journey,
arrived at the gilded gallery, which surmounts the dome. From hence we
enjoyed a magnificent view of London, for, fortunately, the atmosphere
was comparatively clear, and the everlasting canopy of smoke which
overhangs London was not so dense as usual. Spread out before us lay the
great wilderness of brick and mortar, through which the shining Thames,
like a huge snake, pursued its sinuous course, spanned at intervals by
bridges, and bearing, on its broad bosom the gathered treasures of many
a far-distant nation. The streets, diminished to mere lanes, looked
alive with Lilliputians; miniature horses and carriages appeared like so
many German automaton toys which had been wound up and set a-going. Far
away to the westward patches of green, studded with trees, denoted the
parks, in one of which glittered the glass roof and sides of the Crystal
Palace; and still more remote were glimpses of the free, fresh, open
country, along which, at intervals, would rush railway trains, bearing
hundreds of passengers to various parts of England. Above my head
glittered, in the brilliant sunshine, the ball and cross which, at a
height of four hundred and four feet, stands proudly over London, and
may be seen from various parts of the metropolis. Another fee secured
our passage to the interior of this globe of gilded copper, and which is
about six feet in diameter, and will hold several persons. To reach it,
I had to ascend a ladder and creep through an aperture at the bottom of
the sphere. This was not worth the labor, but then we could say we had
attained the highest point of the cathedral. I hear that ladies
sometimes venture into the ball; if so, their timidity is insufficient
to baffle their curiosity. This accomplished, we retraced our steps, and
visited the portion of St. Paul's in which divine service is performed.
About a dozen boys, dressed in white surplices, were chanting sweetly; a
dull-looking clergyman read the service indifferently; and a score of
poor people, with one or two well-dressed persons, formed the
congregation. We then departed for Westminster Abbey, which must form
the subject of another letter.
Yours affectionately,
WELD.
Letter 21.
LONDON.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
What shall I tell you about Westminster Abbey? I hope I may be able to
say enough to make you long to see it, and determine you to read all you
can about it. By the way, I have satisfied myself that I can learn the
best things about such places by carefully reading good histories and
examining the best engravings. This abbey claims to have been built, in
616, by a Saxon king. It was enlarged by Edgar and Edward the Confessor,
and was rebuilt as it now appears by Henry III. and Edward I. In this
church all the sovereigns of England have been crowned, from Edward the
Confessor down to Victoria; and not a few of them have been buried here.
The architecture, excepting Henry VII.'s Chapel; is of the early
English school. Henry's chapel is of the perpendicular Gothic. The
western towers were built by Sir Christopher Wren.
We entered at the door leading to the Poet's Corner. We gazed with
interest on the monuments of Chatham, Pitt, Fox, and Canning, Prince
Rupert, Monk, Chaucer, Spenser, Beaumont, Fletcher, Ben Jonson, Cowley,
Dryden, Dr. Watts, Addison, Gay, Sheridan, and Campbell. Here, too, are
tablets to Barrow, South, Garrick, Handel, Clarendon, Bishop Atterbury,
Sir Isaac Newton, and old Parr, who died at the age of one hundred and
fifty-two.
[Illustration: Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey.]
The associations of this building are every thing to the stranger. I
will just give you a list of names of the kings and queens buried
here--Sebert, Edward the Confessor, Henry III., Edward I., Queen
Eleanor, Edward III. and his queen, Philippa, Richard II. and his queen,
Henry V., Henry VII. and his queen, Ann of Cleves, queen of Henry VIII.,
Edward VI., Bloody Mary, Mary, Queen of Scots, Queen Elizabeth, James I.
and his queen, Queen of Bohemia, Charles II., William III. and Mary,
Queen Anne, George II. and Queen Caroline.