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 s.p.a.cious, 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 Ca.n.a.letti, 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 s.p.a.ce 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 gla.s.s, 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 n.o.ble 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 ill.u.s.trates 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 s.p.a.cious. Some of the horses were exceedingly beautiful. The harness-room made a display. The cream-colored horses belonging to the state carriage are n.o.ble 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 s.p.a.cious, 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sage, 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, dest.i.tute of tower or steeple, and surrounded by gloomy-looking lawyers' offices. But no sooner had we crossed the threshold than a scene of surpa.s.sing 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'il_ 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: St. Paul's Cathedral.]

Here may be observed, to advantage, the surpa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 gla.s.s 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 pa.s.sengers 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 pa.s.sage 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey.]

The a.s.sociations 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., b.l.o.o.d.y 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.

We took the circuit of the chapels, beginning with St. Benedict. Here many eminent churchmen have been interred. The next is St. Edmond's, which contains twenty monuments; the monument of the Earl of Pembroke, brother of Henry III.; he died 1298. Here, too, are tombs of children of Edward II. and Edward III. I noticed a very fine bra.s.s monument, which represents a d.u.c.h.ess of Gloucester in her dress as a nun, dated 1399.

There is, too, the effigy of the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk, mother of poor Lady Jane Grey. The third is St. Nicholas's Chapel, where is seen Lord Burleigh's monument. The fourth is the Virgin Mary's Chapel, called Henry VII.'s Chapel, and the ascent to which is by twelve or fourteen steps. This glorious room consists of a central aisle, with five small chapels and two side aisles. Here you see the stalls and banners of the Knights of the Bath, who were formerly installed in this chapel. The altar tomb of Henry VII. is truly beautiful; Lord Bacon said, "It is one of the costliest and daintiest tombs in Europe." Here are tombs of his mother, and the mother of Lord George Darnley, and Mary, Queen of Scots, and the Duke of Buckingham, Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Mary. Here, too, is a sarcophagus, which is supposed to contain the remains of Edward V.

and the Duke of York, discovered in the Tower in the seventeenth century, in a box. Charles II., William and Mary, and Queen Anne are in a vault on the south aisle. George II. and his queen, Caroline, lie together, a side being taken out of each coffin. The fifth chapel is St.

Paul's. The most striking object here is a colossal portrait statue of James Watt, the great steam-engine perfecter, if not inventor. This is by Chantrey, and cost six thousand pounds, and seems quite out of place.

Archbishop Usher lies in this chapel. The sixth chapel, called Edward the Confessor's, pleased me greatly. In the centre is the shrine of the monarch saint; it is rich in mosaic adornments. The altar tomb of Henry III. is very grand, and there is a n.o.ble bronze statue of the king.

Edward I. is here, and in 1774 his body was found almost entire. Edward III. and Philippa, his queen, have tombs. Here, too, was Henry V., the hero of Agincourt, Richard II. and queen. We were delighted with the two coronation chairs; in one is the old stone of Scone, on which the early Scotch kings used to be crowned. Edward I. carried it off, and it has ever since figured in English coronations. It is a large piece of red and gray sandstone, and claims to have been the veritable pillow on which Jacob slept. The seventh chapel is that of St. Erasmus, and leads to the eighth, which is John the Baptist's. Here rest the early abbots of the church. It contains a very fine monument to Lord Hunsdon, chamberlain to Queen Bess. Just outside, in the aisle, we found the n.o.ble monument to General Wolfe, and the celebrated work of Roubilliac in memory of Mrs. Nightingale, where death is seen throwing his dart at the wife, who falls into her husband's arms.

All over this n.o.ble abbey did we wander again and again in repeated visits, and admire the finest statuary we have ever seen. Roubilliac was a wonderful genius, and his monument to Sir Peter Warren is exquisite.

The works of Bacon, Flaxman, Nollekins, Chantrey, and Westmacott have made me in love with statuary; and I long to see the great works which are to be seen on the continent.

Many of the tablets and statues are only honorary, as the persons commemorated were not buried here; as Shakspeare, Southey, Thomson, Goldsmith, Dr. Watts, &c. I could spend hours looking at Roubilliac's monument for the Duke of Argyle and his statue for Handel.

We attended divine service one Sunday afternoon, and heard a very fine sermon from Lord John Thynne. The abbey was crowded; the music the best I ever heard in a church; the preacher was quite eloquent; and Dr. C.

observed that it was the most evangelical sermon he had heard in England. The subject was on justification by faith:

I may forget many things that I shall see on our travels, but I think that this abbey will never vanish from my recollection. I shall always remember the very position of these great works of art and genius; and I am more than repaid for all the labor of a voyage.

Yours affectionately,

WELD.