Chapter VI.

London.

We now approach London, the mighty mistress of the commercial world, the

most populous city on our globe. Here, certers the trade of all nations

here, is transacted the business of the world. If you would know how it

looks where concentration of business has reached its climax, then come to

London. Many of its streets are so crowded with omnibuses, wagons,

dray-carts, &c., that it is almost Impossible for a pedestrian to cross

them. When the principal streets intersect each other, the bustle and

tumult of trade is so great, that it becomes a dangerous undertaking to

attempt to effect a crossing at such a square.

For the protection and accommodation of those on foot, the squares are

provided with little platforms elevated a step above the surface of the

road and surrounded with a thick row of stone posts between these, the

pedestrian can enter, but they shield him from the clanger of being tread

under the feet of horses, or run over by vehicles. Here one stands

perfectly safe, even when everything is confusion for an acre around. As

soon as an opportunity opens, he runs to the next landing; and thus

continues, from landing to landing, until the opposite side of the square

is reached. It often requires five minutes to accomplish this feat. It

has been estimated that no less than 20,000 teams and equestrians, and

107,000 pedestrians cross London Bridge every twenty-four hours. By police

arrangement, slow traffic travel at the sides and the quick in the center.

It is 928 feet long and fifty-four wide. Not only are the streets crowded,

but beneath the houses and streets, in the dark bosom of the earth, there

is a net-work of

Underground Railroads,

extending to all parts of the city, which pick up that surplus of travel

which it has become impossible to accomplish above.

There are some thirty miles of tunneled railways in London, now, and the

work of extending them is carried on with increasing energy. This railway

is double track everywhere, and forms two circuits, upon one of which the

trains continually run in one direction, while those on the other track

run in the opposite direction. Collisions are therefore impossible between

these two systems of counter-currents. Numerous stations are built all

along these roads, where travelers can descend to meet the trains or leave

them, to make their ascend to the city above. To give the reader an idea

of the immense amount of traveling done in these dark passages under

London, it need only be stated that long trains of cars pass each station

every "ten minutes," and are as well filled with passengers as those of

railroads on the surface of the earth. The cars are comfortably lighted,

so that after one has taken his seat and the train begins to run along, it

resembles night-traveling so perfectly, that the difference is scarcely

perceptible.

Of all modes of travel, these underground railroads afford the quickest,

cheapest, safest and most convenient manner of transit.

This great metropolis includes the cities of London and Westminster, the

borough of Southwark, and thirty-six adjacent parishes, precincts,

townships, &c. It covers an area of 122 square miles, and has a population

of about 4,000,000, that of the _City of London proper_ being no more than

about 75,000. Murray's Modern London contains the following statistics:

"The Metropolis is supposed to consume in one year 1,600,000 quarters of

wheat, 300,000 bullocks, 1,700,000 sheep, 28,000 calves, and 35,000 pigs."

(If these animals were arranged in a double line, they would constitute a

drove over a thousand miles long!)

"One market alone (Leadenhall) supplies about 4,025,000 head of game.

This, together with 3,000,000 of salmon, irrespective of other fish and

flesh, is washed down by 43,200,000 gallons of porter and ale, 2,000,000

gallons of spirits, and 65,000 pipes of wine. To fill its milk and cream

jugs, 13,000 cows are kept. To light it at night, 360,000 gas-lights

fringe the streets, consuming, every twenty-four hours, 13,000,000 cubic

feet of gas; while the private consumption of gas in a year amounts to

10,000,000,000 cubic feet. Its arterial or water system supplies the

enormous quantity of 44,383,328 gallons per day, while its venous or sewer

system carries off 9,502,720 cubic feet of refuse. To warm its people and

to supply its factories, a fleet, amounting to upwards of a thousand sail,

is employed in bringing annually 3,000,000 tons of coal, exclusive of

2,000,000 tons brought by rail. The thirsty souls of London need have no

fear of becoming thirstier so long as there are upwards of 6,700 public

houses and 2,000 wine merchants to minister to their deathless thirst.

"The bread to this enormous quantity of sack is represented by 2,500

bakers, 1,700 butchers, not including pork butchers, 2,600 tea dealers and

grocers, 1,260 coffee-room keepers, nearly 1,500 dairy-men, and 1,350

tobacconists. To look after the digestion of this enormous amount of food

upwards of 2,400 duly licensed practitioners, surgeons and physicians are

daily running to and fro through this mighty metropolis, whose patients,

in due course of time and physic, are handed over to the tender mercies of

500 undertakers. Nearly 3,000 boot and shoe-makers give their aid to keep

our feet dry and warm, while 2,950 tailors do as much for the rest of our

bodies. The wants of the fairer portion of the population are supplied, by

1,080 linen drapers, 1,500 milliners and dressmakers; 1,540 private

schools take charge of their children; and 290 pawn-brokers' shops find

employment and profit out of the reverses, follies, and vices of the

community. It is said that 700,000 _cats_ are kept in London, to maintain

whom large part of the 3,000 horses which die every week is sold by

cat's-meat vendors. About 520,000 (1873) houses give shelter to upwards of

three millions of people, whose little differences are aggravated or

settled by upwards of 3,000 attorneys and 3,900 barristers.

"The spiritual wants of this mighty aggregate of human souls are cared for

by more than 2,000 clergymen and dissenting ministers, who respectively

preside over 620 churches and 423 chapels, of which latter buildings the

Independents have 121, the Baptists 100, the Wesleyans 77, the Roman,

Catholics about 90, whereas in 1808 they had but 13, the Calvinists and,

English Presbyterians 10 each, the Quakers 7, and the Jews 10; the

numerous other sects being content with numbers varying from one to five

each. To wind up with the darkest part of the picture, the metropolis

contains on an average 129,000 paupers."

On my way to London, I fell in company with a young gentleman who was well

acquainted in the metropolis, and who gave me much valuable information,

and assisted me in establishing myself in a central location, where

excursions to all sections could be conveniently made. This was "King's

Cross Station," the terminus of the Great Northern Railway, and one of the

principal stations of the Metropolitan (or Underground) Railroad;

besides, it is in the heart of the great city. We reached it by the

Underground Railway from Paddington, the terminus of the Great Western

Railway. When we _came up out of the earth_ at Kings Cross, I saw a

_busy-ness_ such as I had never seen before. My friend went with me a

short distance to point out a street where private rooms could be rented.

The tourist who wants to make the most of his time must never engage to

board at his lodging-place, as it will be very inconvenient and at a

sacrifice of much time, to return thither for his meals. The most

economical way is to have a room either at a hotel or at a private house,

and to take the meals at the numerous restaurants, one of which can be

reached anywhere in five minutes.

I had great difficulty in procuring a room, but persisted in my inquiries

until I succeeded. The traveler will learn quicker than any other person

that _perseverence is the only road to success_. He must often see

everything go contrary for a whole hour, and even sometimes for half a day

in succession. Such reverses frequently occasion a "blue-Monday" in the

middle of the week.

My first walk, after I had found a home in London, was to the Post-Office,

to look for letters from my friends in America, This was about three miles

off. I returned a different way, and took a look at the exterior of St.

Paul's. As the Covent Garden Theater (the finest in London) was already

full before I reached it, I went on to the Oxford Street Music Theater and

spent my first evening there. The next day (Wednesday, July 14th,) I

entered

St. Paul's Cathedral,

the noblest building in England in the Classic style. Its length from east

to west is 550 feet and its height to the top of the cross 370 feet. Under

the dome is an area affording seats for 5,000 persons. Here 5,000 charity

children are collected on the first Thursday in June every year, to unite

their voices in songs of praise. Besides the dome, St. Paul's has two

other towers, each 222 feet high. In one of these is the clock and the

great bell upon which it strikes.

The length of the minute-hand of the clock is eight feet, and its weight

seventy-five pounds; the length of the hour-hand is five feet five inches,

and its weight forty-four pounds. The bell is ten feet in diameter and

weighs 11,474 pounds. "It is inscribed, 'Richard Phelps made, me, 1716,'

and is never used except for striking the hour, and for tolling at the

deaths and funerals of any of the Royal Family, the Bishops of London, the

Deans of St. Paul's, and the Lord Mayor, should he die in his mayoralty."

It requires a man three quarters of an hour every day to wind the clock,

the striking weight alone weighing 1,200 pounds.

The dome constitutes a very remarkable whisper gallery, the slightest

whisper being transmitted from one side to the other with the greatest

distinctness.

This Cathedral contains many fine monuments interesting from the persons

they commemorate. Among them are those to the Duke of Wellington, to

Nelson, to Lord Cornwallis, to Sir Charles Napier, to Sir William Jones,

the Oriental scholar, and numerous others.

Crystal Palace,

which is outside of the city, is perhaps the grandest Exposition Building

in the world, and possibly the only structure of the kind in existence,

since the destruction, by fire, of Crystal Palace, in New York. This Great

Exhibition Building was first built upon Hyde Park, covering nearly

nineteen acres of ground. It was visited by upwards of 6,000,000 persons

during the twenty-four weeks that it was open, or about 40,000 persons

daily. The receipts amounted to over $2,000,000.

It was re-erected and enlarged at Sydenham, in Kent, 1853-4, at a cost of

over $7,000,000.

It must be over a quarter of a mile long, and about one-fourth as wide.

The entire sides and the whole of the immense arched roof are of glass,

admitting all the light except what little is intercepted by the sashes,

thus affording an illumination quite equal to that outside, under the

clear canopy of heaven.

The exterior gardens and water-works are magnificent. Among the

attractions about the yard, is a glass tower about forty-five or fifty

feet in diameter and over 200 feet high. Beautiful indeed is this

magnificent crystal tower.

A clock with sixty-nine faces shows the times of so many different places

on our planet. For the accommodation of such as are astronomically

inclined, I render the following record as I entered it upon my diary,

July 16th: Civil Middle Time, 12:40 p.m.; Astronomical Middle Time, 12:39½

p.m.; Sidereal Time, 19:49¾; True Time, 12:38½ p.m.

Around its great organ, there is seating accommodation for a choir of

2,000 singers.

For seeing the building only, one could well afford to go a great

distance; but there are also constantly on exhibition a large collection

of curiosities of every description, while extensive bazars expose for

sale the richest and finest goods and wares of all kinds, and from the

stores of every quarter of the globe.

There is also on exposition a large collection of plants, and a

magnificent art gallery of paintings, sculpture, &c. Concert every day.

London has much fog and rain. I had but two fair days out of the eight I

spent there. One very rainy morning I started out to see the Houses of

Parliament. On my way thither I came to Trafalgar Square. In the center

stands the magnificent Nelson Column, surrounded by statues and

fountains. In order to-shield myself from the rain, and to enjoy the view

of the grand square before me, and of the Parliamentary Buildings in the

distance, I took refuge upon the portico of the National Gallery of

Paintings. Here I incidentally met and formed the acquaintance of the

brother of Miss Rosie Hersee, a songstress, who had lately made herself

popular in this country. After accompanying me through the Art Gallery, he

changed his programme for the afternoon, and had the kindness to spent the

balance of the day with me, showing me through the Houses of Parliament

and Westminster Abbey. The tourist should constantly be on the lookout for

some suitable companion who is well posted at the place that he proposes

to visit. Without such a person to point out things and explain them, one

will miss more than he sees. I had just taken leave of a gentleman who had

given me considerable assistance, but whose course so differed from my

programme, that I was in fear of losing time should I accompany him

longer. My new companion was a short-hand reporter of one of the London

papers, and thoroughly acquainted in Westminster.

The Houses of Parliament.

This is one of the largest buildings ever erected continuously in

Europe--perhaps the largest Gothic edifice in the world. It stands upon

the bank of the Thames, occupying the site of the old Royal Palace of

Westminster, burnt down in 1834, and covers nearly eight acres. This

building has 100 staircases, more than two miles of corridors, and 1,100

apartments! The cost of erection was some $14,000,000, or a little more

than that of the Capitol of the United States.

Having procured tickets we entered by the Royal Entrance under the

Victoria Tower, one of the most stupendous structures of the kind in the

world. It is 340 feet high and seventy-five feet square. The entrance

archway is sixty-five feet high, and the vault is a rich and beautiful

grained roof of elaborate workmanship, while the interior is decorated

with statues of her present Majesty, supported by Justice and Mercy, and

the statues of the patron saints of England, Scotland and Ireland.

The first apartment that we entered, was the Robing Room. From this room,

after the ceremony of robing, her Majesty on her way to the Throne passes

through a magnificent hall 110 feet long, forty-five feet wide and

forty-five feet high, called the Victoria Gallery. It contains two

magnificent frescoes of events in the history of England, covering large

sections of the two side-walls. One represents the death of Nelson, and

the other the meeting of Wellington and Blücher after the Battle of

Waterloo.

_The House of Peers_, ninety-seven feet long, forty-five feet wide, and

forty-five high, is one of the richest and most magnificent chambers in

the world. To the left of the entrance is the Throne on which her Majesty

sits when she attends the House, and beside it, the chair of the Prince of

Wales. Rich in carvings and lavishly gilt, this noble chamber presents a

view of great grandeur.

The subdued light, admitted by the stained glass of its windows, does not

dazzle the eye as would a perfect illumination of such giltings, but what

is lost in _splendor_, is perhaps gained in _modest grandeur_.

"The arrival of her Majesty is announced within the House by the booming

of the cannon. Her entrance is preceeded by the Heralds in their rich

dress, and by some of the chief officers of state in their robes. All the

peers are in their robes. The Speech is presented to her Majesty by the

Lord Chancellor, kneeling, and is read by her Majesty or by him; the Royal

Princes and Princesses with the Mistress of the Robes and one of the

ladies of the bed-chamber standing by her side on the dais. The return to

Buckingham Palace is by three at the latest."

The old custom of examining the cellars underneath the House of Lords,

some hours before her Majesty's arrival, is still observed. This custom

had its origin in the infamous Gunpowder plot of 1605.

_The House of Commons_ is sixty-two feet long by forty-five feet broad and

forty-five feet high; to which England and Wales return 500 members,

Ireland 105, and Scotland 53, making in all 658 members.

St. Stephens Hall 95 feet long, 30 feet wide, and 56 feet high to the apex

of the stone groining, is lined by twelve "statues of Parliamentary

statesmen who rose to eminence by the eloquence and abilities they

displayed in the House of Commons," Fox and Pitt are here placed on

opposite sides of the hall, "facing" each other after the manner they were

wont to in the House of Commons.

Westminster Hall is 290 feet in length, 68 feet in width, and 110 feet in

height. "It is the largest apartment not supported by pillars in the

world." Let the reader picture to himself the scenes of the events which

history records as having taken place in this venerable Hall. "Here were

hung the banners taken from Charles I., at the battle of Naseby; from

Charles II. at the battle of Worcester; at Preston and Dunbar; and,

somewhat later, those taken at the battle of Blenheim. Here, at the upper

end of the Hall, Oliver Cromwell was inaugurated as Lord Protector,

sitting in a robe of purple velvet lined with ermine, on a rich cloth of

state, with the gold sceptre in one hand, the Bible richly gilt and bossed

in the other, and his sword at his side. Here, four years later, at the

top of the Hall fronting Palace-yard, his head was set on a pole, with the

skulls of Ireton on one side, of Bradshaw on the other. Here, shameless

ruffians sought employment as hired witnesses, and walked openly in the

Hall with a straw in the shoe to denote their quality; and here the good,

the great, the brave, the wise, and the abandoned have been brought to

trial. Here (in the Hall of Rufus) Sir William Wallace was tried and

condemned; in this very Hall, Sir Thomas More and Protector Sommerset were

doomed to the scaffold. Here, in Henry VIII.'s reign (1517), entered the

City apprentices, implicated in the murders on 'Evil May Day' of the

aliens settled in London, each with a halter round his neck, and crying

'Mercy, gracious Lord, Mercy,' while Wolsey stood by, and the King,

beneath his cloth of state, heard their defense and pronounced their

pardon--the prisoners shouting with delight and casting up their halters

to the Hall roof, 'so that the King,' as the chroniclers observe, 'might

perceive they were none of the descreetest.' Here the notorious Earl and

Countess of Somerset were tried in the reign of James I. for the murder of

Sir Thomas Overbury. Here, the great Earl of Stafford was condemned; the

King being present, and the Commons sitting bareheaded all the time. The

_High Court of Justice_ which condemned King Charles I. sat in this Hall,

the upper part hung with scarlet cloth, and the King sitting underneath,

with the Naseby banners suspended above his head. Lilly, the astrologer,

who was present, saw the silver top fall from the King's staff, and others

heard Lady Fairfax exclaim, when her husband's name was called over, 'He

has more wit than to be here.' Here, in the reign of James II., the seven

bishops were acquitted. Here Dr. Sacheverel was tried and pronounced

guilty by a majority of seventeen. Here the rebel Lords of 1745,

Kilmarnock, Balmerino, and Lovat, were heard and condemned. Here, Warren

Hastings was tried, and Burke and Sheridan grew eloquent and impassioned,

while Senators by birth and election, and the beauty and rank of Great

Britain, sat earnest spectators and listeners of the extraordinary scene.

The last public trial in the Hall was Lord Melville's in 1806; and the

last coronation dinner in the Hall was that of George IV., when, according

to the custom maintained for ages, and for the last time probably, the

King's champion (Dymocke) rode into the Hall in full armor, and threw down

the gauntlet, challenging the world in a King's behalf. Silver plates were

laid, on the same occasion, for 334 guests,"--_Murray_.

The _Central_ or _Octagon Hall_ is an elegant and well lighted apartment

eighty feet in height. It is covered by a groined roof ornamented with 250

bosses.

The _Clock Tower_ is forty feet square and 320 feet high. The Palace Clock

in this tower is an eighty-day clock, striking the hours and chiming the

quarters upon eight bells. Its four dials on the tower are each thirty

feet in diameter.

From the Houses of Parliament we went over to see Westminster Abbey,

which is on the opposite side of the street. The contrast between those

buildings is so striking, that old Westminster seemed to be quite an

ordinary edifice. As I looked at its weather-beaten and moss-covered

walls, and its small proportions as compared with the grand edifice which

we had just left; I speculated what the old stable-like building might

look like on the inside. We had not entered long before I observed that it

was somewhat larger than I had imagined. It is 416 feet long, 203 feet

across the transepts, and 101 feet 8 inches to the roof.

Back of the high altar is Edward the Confessor's Chapel containing the

graves and monuments of nine kings and queens. In this chapel are the two

_Coronation Chairs_ upon which all the sovereigns of Great Britain have

been crowned since the death of Henry III., (by whom Westminster Abbey was

built), beginning with the coronation of his son? Edward I., and Queen

Eleanor, October 19th, 1274. One of these chairs has for a seat the

venerable stone on which the Scottish kings had been crowned at Scone from

time immemorial; but which together with the regalia of Scotland, Edward

I. brought with him as trophies in 1296. "This stone is 26 inches long, 16

inches wide, and 11 inches thick."

In the "Poet's Corner" we joined a party and were guided through the

chapels.

In Henry VII.'s Chapel we found a very beautiful effigy of the Princess

Sophia lying in an alabaster cradle. This infant princess was the daughter

of James I., and is not mentioned by some historians, having died at a

very tender age.

This chapel contains many royal tombs. Among others are the altar-tomb,

with effigy of the mother of Lord Darnley, husband of Mary, Queen of

Scots; tomb, with effigy of Queen Elizabeth (her sister, Mary, being

buried in the same grave); and the tomb, with a fine effigy of Mary, Queen

of Scots, erected by her son, King James IV., of Scotland, (being James I.

of England). The face of this image is very beautiful, and generally

recognized as a genuine likeness of the Queen. Oliver Cromwell's bones

were speedily ejected from this chapel at the Restoration.

In the E. aisle of the North Transept is a remarkable monument to Mr. and

Mrs. Nightingale. Death represented in the ghastly form of a sheeted

skeleton has just issued from a dark aperture in the lower part of the

monument, and aims his dart at the sick lady who has sunk affrighted into

her husband's arms. "This dying woman," says Cunningham, "would do honor

to any artist."

In another part of the church, we found a fine monument to "Major John

Andre, who raised by his merit, at an early period of life, to the rank of

Adj. General of the British forces in America, and employed in an

important but hazardous enterprise, fell a sacrifice to his zeal and his

king and country on the 2nd of October, A.D., 1780, aged 29 years,

universally beloved and esteemed. His gracious sovereign, King George the

Third, has caused this monument to be erected. The remains of Major John

Andre were on the 10th of August, 1821, removed from Tappan by James

Buchanan, Esq., his Majesty's consul at New York, under instruction from

his Royal Highness, the Duke of York, and with the permission of Dean and

Chapter finally deposited in a grave contiguous to this monument on the

28th of November, 1821."

There are altogether between twenty-five and thirty kings and queens

buried in this Abbey, besides a host of England's most famous statesmen,

soldiers, poets and other eminent persons that have flourished within the

last five or six centuries, a mere catalogue of whose names would fill

whole pages.

It seems odd enough to an American to find large graveyards in the

interior of churches and cathedrals, and to see monuments, tombs and

altar-tombs, with the effigies of persons lying in state having all kinds

of animals (their crests) lying at their feet; but a day in Westminster

will accustom one to such scenes.

Arms and Crests.

In England, it is very common to place the crests of the nobility with

their effigies upon their tombs. Thus Mary, Queen of Scots, has the lion

lying at her feet, and in St. Mary's, at Warwick, I learned that the

Muzzled Bear is the Earl of Warwick's crest, while the Marquis of

Northampton has the Black Swan, and Richard Beauchamp the Bear and

Griffin. Even literary characters were not without them, Shakespeare for

example, had adopted the Falcon rising argent, supporting a spear, in

pale.

Sunday in London.

On Sunday morning, July 18th, I started out at random to find a church

where religious service was held. Before going far I came to a large

church edifice (St. Pancras) where numbers of people were assembling from

all directions and gradually filling up that capacious building which has

seats for about 3,000 worshipers. Upon the portico I met the

Superintendent of the Mission House, who had accompanied the Vicar of St.

Pancras on a visit to Canada, some years ago, and who seemed as much

pleased to meet an American as I was benefited by his kind attentions and

accommodations. For three-fourths of an hour, he answered me questions and

explained the organization of the Church of England, which by the way, is

quite as complicated as the organization of the civil government of a

nation. Arch-bishops, bishops, vicars, canons, deans, chapters, curates,

&c., constitute a list of ecclesiastical dignitaries whose functions are

not very easily defined and comprehended by a stranger. Just before

service commenced, he conducted me to a seat near the pulpit. Rev.

Thorold, the officiating clergyman, is a very able speaker, and made the

first attempt at argument in his discourse that I had yet listened to in

England. Preaching, in England, like the reciting of prayers, is all so

much blank assertion--no more, and no less. I had never before so felt the

force of _unquestioned authority_ as I learned to feel and appreciate it

in the services of the Episcopal Church of England. The very fact of

arguing a question is in itself a compromise of its one-sidedness and of

the infallibility of the position the preacher may have taken; but let the

clergy of an entire nation read the same mass and recite the same prayers

in all their congregations, and let them refrain from discussing

scriptural texts, and all give one and the same answer to each and every

question, and there will soon be an end of sectarianism. The best

reasoning has always provoked more doubt than it has established faith,

and in consequence, ever been more fruitful of contention than of peace.

So long as a people are one-minded they will be peaceful and contended

even if they are bound in wretched slavery, but the tide of revolution has

set in at London, and the church begins to tremble, and the clergy to

argue. In the afternoon, the weather being very fair, I went to

Hyde Park.

This park has an area of 388 acres, upon which may be seen all the wealth

and fashion and splendid equipages of the nobility and gentry of England.

A meeting of the Radicals had been announced and placarded over the city,

inviting all workingmen to be present and enter their protest against

Parliament appropriating any money to the Prince of Wales for defraying

the expenses of his contemplated trip to India. The novelty of seeing a

political meeting on _Sunday_, and that too on the part of the Republicans

in monarchial England, was enough to entice me thither, so I went early

and spent an hour with a silver-haired clergyman, upon a settee under the

shade of a tree not far from "The Reform Tree," around which, as this

gentleman informed me, the nucleus of Radical meetings is always formed.

On my way to the park, I was accompanied for some distance by a certain

policeman, (whose acquaintance I had formed during the week); to him I

expressed my surprise at seeing Great Britain compromise the sacredness of

the Sabbath with radical Republicanism and Rationalism! "Well," said he,

"If we let them have their own way, they will come here and hold their

meetings and after they have listened to their leaders awhile and cheered

right lustily, they will scatter and that is the end of it, but when we

interfere, there is no telling where the matter will end. In 1866, we once

closed the park against them, and the consequence was a riot in which the

police suffered severely from brick-bats, and the mob finally took hold of

the iron fence and tore it away for a long distance along the park, made

their entry, and took their own way." "Well could you not have punished

those offenders according to due process of law?" I asked. "Yes," he

rejoined, "we might, but their number was so great that we could never

have finished trying them all!" Thus it often happens that what is

criminal for one or several to do, goes unpunished when a thousand offend,

and besides they open the way to new privileges and greater liberties.

At 3:00 o'clock a mighty flood of the Reform Party, headed by Bradlaugh

and Watts, marched into the park and, soon a large meeting of many

thousands was formed, which increased in numbers as long as the speakers

continued to address them. It is a striking feature of these reform

agitations, perhaps of every revolutionary movement that has ever been

undertaken and accomplished, that they are headed and lead by men whose

personal influence embodies the whole power of the organizations, and

whose word and command are their supreme law. This meeting was variously

estimated at between 20,000 and 50,000 persons, and this immense concourse

of people was us perfectly under the control of Chas. Bradlaugh as the

best organized army can be under its general. This harmony must be

attributed to the fact that the movement is a spontaneous one in which

each member participates because he likes the leader and his principles.

It is an encouraging feature of these reformers that they do not despise

_everything_ that the past has handed down to our time, as the

hot-blooded Communists of Paris seemed to be inclined to do in the late

_crisis_. The dress of these agitators speak nothing about bloody

revolution as did the "red cap" and slouch hat of the political reformers

of Europe of earlier times.

Bradlaugh, for an example, wears a black dress coat, silk dress hat,

lay-down collar and black necktie, and carries a cane. The great majority

of the meeting wore also the fashionable "stove-pipe." These things and

the sound judgment of the leaders promise "peaceable reforms" but the

boundless enthusiasm of the mass of them when imflammatory remarks are

made, betray the existence of feelings that are akin to pent up volcanoes,

and may break out in violent eruptions when least expected. There is

certainly fire enough in European Republicanism to impel them on to mighty

efforts when the proper time comes. The part played by several ladies in

this movement has a salutary influence for moderation and order. Mrs.

Besant and the two daughters of Mr. Bradlaugh are always accompanying him

wherever he lectures in London. A table was placed in the center of a

circle formed around the leaders, and upon this Mr. Bradlaugh took his

stand in addressing the meeting. His voice is far more powerful than that

of any other man that I have ever heard, and by the use of medicine which

his elder daughter (Alice) reaches up to him very frequently during his

speeches, he keeps it perfectly clear to the end; though in these open

air meetings he often, stands in the face of 10,000 to 100,000 persons,

speaking by the hour with a force quite equal to the roaring of a lion.

This violent exercise of his vooal organs, he sometimes repeats several

times every day for a month in succession, displaying powers of endurance

which are perhaps not equaled by any other living orator. It is an

exciting scene to behold acres of hats beclouding the sky while "cheers

rend the air," and to see a field white with hands when votes are taken.

Only three persons in this entire meeting voted in favor of granting the

Prince of Wales the $700,000 asked for, while some acres of people voted

against it.

It should be remembered that this was a meeting of the _extreme_ branch of

the Republican party in London. There is a more moderate party headed by

leaders who only despise royalty, but abide with the Church and the

Christian religion, and which is said to be far more numerous than the

extremists are. In the evening the Radicals had a meeting in the Hall of

Science, where Mr. Bradlaugh addressed them on the subject of religion and

social ethics. His discourses here are generally very abtruse. None but a

very intelligent audience, and educated in his system of philosophy would

understand his logic or appreciate his wit and humor at the expense of

royalty and Christianity. The hall will hold about 1,500 adults and his

congregation (?) is a mixed one comprising both sexes, just like all

church organizations; after which, it is a copy. There is no praying, but

the Miss Brad laughs render music upon a melodian or organ both before and

after the lecture. In place of the "collection," they charge a small

admittance, which becomes a source of considerable revenue; as the hall is

crowded at almost every meeting. I must here record, one more feature

which implies, besides the oratorical powers and progressive originality

of the father, an intensity of interest on the part of a daughter, in her

father's views, such as is seldom witnessed. Miss Alice B. will, from the

beginning to the end of every lecture, keep the eye of her father,

watching every change of his countenance from the flush of a glowing

enthusiasm to the pallor of bitter contempt, catching every syllable he

utters, reflecting with beaming smiles every happy hit he makes, and

sinking down to the paleness of utter disdain with him, when he comes to

the recital of the heartless oppressions of the aristocracy; continually

following his remarks with such an interest as if she was seeing and

hearing him for the first time in her life.

I have given a somewhat lengthy account of these Radical meetings and

rationalistic sentiments, not on account of their popularity in England,

for though hundreds of thousands endorse the movement in London and a

number of other cities in Great Britain, still they are by far in the

minority, at least when the question of religion is taken; but upon the

continent of Europe--in France, Germany, and I had almost added

Switzerland and Italy, the case is already different or fast becoming so.

Rationalism is rampant, and the reader should constantly bear in mind, as

I may not often return to this topic, that the majority of the intelligent

people in most places are of the camp that I have described as holding

these meetings on Hyde Park and in the Hall of Science in London.

Those Radical societies have their own hymn-books, and even their children

are baptised and the dead buried, according to their own forms and

ceremonies, of unbelief.

Of the numerous other parks in London, I have no room to make mention. Of

the British Museum, comprising a collection of books, works of art,

antiquities, and curiosities, larger than that of any other museum

contained under one roof in the world, costing in the aggregate

$12,000,000, and the building $5,000,000, and of the South Kensington

Museum fast approaching the British Museum in the vastness of its

collection, I can only add, that a complete catalogue of their collections

would fill several large volumes, and to examine all their contents would

require many weeks. There are numerous other museums and galleries of art

strewn over the great metropolis, each more comprehensive than the pride

and boast of many other cities of pretention in the world, but in London

they are only regarded as second rate collections.

If a tourist has only a few days to devote to London, he should not fail

to pass through Park Lane (along Hyde Park, at the foot of which lives the

son of Arthur, the Duke of Wellington, Commander at Waterloo) thence along

Piccadilly, passing Charing Cross, Trafalgar Square, the Strand and Fleet

Street, and, having visited Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Cathedral,

will now find

The Tower of London.

next in importance. This ancient citadel is the most celebrated in

England, and dates back to the time of William the Conqueror (A.D., 1066)

at least; but tradition refers it even to Caesar's time. It covers over

twelve acres, and its walls are about three-fifth of a mile in circuit.

The outer walls of the White Tower, which stands within the

fortifications, are fifteen feet thick.

"This Tower" (The Tower of London) "is a citadel to defend or command the

city; a royal palace; a prison of state for the most dangerous offenders;

the armory for warlike provisions; the treasury of the ornaments and

jewels of the Crown; and general conserver of most of the records of the

King's courts of justice at Westminster."--_Stow_.

The Bloody Tower, so called because within it was committed the murder of

the princes, Edward V. and Duke of York, sons of Edward IV., by order of

Richard III. In this Tower is the Jewel-house containing the regalia and

the Crown jewels. Among these, are St. Edward's Crown which was made for

the coronation of Charles II., (A.D., 1649), and used in the coronations

of all the sovereigns since his time. The Crown made for the coronation of

Victoria, consisting of a purple velvet cap enclosed by hoops of silver,

and studded with diamonds. It weighs 1¾ pounds. This Crown is estimated at

£111,900 (about $550,000). The Crown of the Prince of Wales, of pure gold,

unadorned by jewels. The Queen Consort's Crown, of gold adorned with

precious stones. The Queen's Diadem. Besides, staffs, sceptres, spurs, the

Ampulla of the Holy Oil, the Coronation Spoon, the Golden Salt-cellar of

State, in the shape of a castle, Baptismal Font, used at the Christening

of the Royal Children, a Silver Wine Fountain, maces, swords, bracelets

&c.,--all arranged upon a large table, enclosed by a glass case and

shielded by iron palings. These treasures are estimated at $17,000,000!

The Horse Armory is contained in a hall 150 feet long and 33 feet wide. In

the center, is a line of equestrian figures, 22 in number, clothed in the

armor of the various reigns from the time of Edward I. to James II.

(1272-1688). When armory had reached its height, just before the

introduction of gunpowder, the suits of armor were so heavy and covered

the bodies of the soldiers and horses so completely, that a knight in

full armor looked much like a turtle sitting upon an armadillo. I saw a

suit of armor that weighs 112 pounds, and a spear 18 feet in length. In

those days physical strength carried almost everything, while intelligence

frequently counted nothing. Looking at those mailed figures makes one

almost feel ashamed of his ancestry. Besides one of the blocks upor which

were beheaded both the innocent and the guilty in former times, there are

also on exhibition the Collar of Torture, 14 pounds in weight, the

Thumb-screw, the Stocks, &c., a collection of instruments of torture well

calculated to restore in the mind of the beholder, a vivid picture of the

dark and wretched past, when man's greatest and most dangerous enemy was

his brother. It seemed then to be the best policy of kings, queens, and of

all noblemen, to get rid of brothers and sisters at the earliest

convenience!

On our way to Beauchamp Tower, the Prison of Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane

Grey, we passed Tower Green, where Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey and

Catherine Howard, three queens, were beheaded.

This is the place where King Henry VIII. had several of his six wives

dispatched, which he could not well have got rid of, by divorce.

I had intended to touch in these remarks a number of other points about

London, and especially the almost boundless resources of England's welthy

Lords, but I can only present a single example, and must then hurry on

with my account to Continental Europe. The wealthiest nobleman whose home

and dwelling-place I passed, is the Duke of Maclew (a Scotchman) whose

annual income is estimated at £350,000 or about $1,700,000. He lives at

White Hall, near Westminster Bridge.

The Youthful Wanderer An Account of a Tour through England, France, Belgium, Holland, Germany and the Rhine, Switzerland, Italy, and Egypt, Adapted to the Wants of Young Americans Taking Their First Glimpses at the Old World · 第 6 / 20 章