Letters from the Old World/Number 3
CITY OF LONDON,
February 3, 1862.
The great city of London, as I have said before, has been so thoroughly explored and written about, that the correspondence of Americans, if they attempt to appear learned and describe things relative to its history, usually ends in being supremely ridiculous. I prefer to describe things as they really are, or as they appear to me, taking occasional aid from friends or acquaintances formed on the route. The day after I arrived in England’s capital was a most dismal one—rainy, foggy and sour; such as London scarcely ever passes a week without having seven, (as I was told). The rain, however, did not keep the inhabitants in doors; for if it did I am very much afraid they would remain there an infinitely long time. Not regarding this weather, I took the first “bus” heading down Victoria street for the Strand, intending to make a visit to the Tower, but our vehicle broke down somewhere near Charing Cross, and I was compelled to “take the road.” Morley’s hotel, the great resort of Americans in the city, being opposite I stopped in and awaited the advent; which came in the course of twenty minutes or so. That is to say; the rain was less violent. I then went down to the river and took one of the many little steamers which are constantly passing and repassing. In our course down the river, we landed three times—at Black Friars, Waterloo, and another bridge, the name of which I do not recollect—and in about half an hour were set down at New London bridge. From here to the Tower we passed through lower Thames street, a narrow, dismal, dirty street, principally inhabited by donkeys and fish-mongers. By the way we passed Fishmonger’s Hall where the rebel Yancey made his famous speech a short time ago. The building is of a light stone, with massive pillars in front, ornamented with bas-reliefs of Tritans, Mermaids, etc. Now for the Tower. This is on a little park called Trinity Square—a muddy, disagreeable place. At the gate we found a guard, who directed our attention to a ticket office, where permission is obtained, by paying the shilling (English), to view the armories and the crown regalia. By the rules of the establishment, a guard every half hour proceeds with the visitors to the fortress; but if during the interval a dozen have collected, they are shown through without waiting for the half hour to elapse. During the twenty minutes we were forced to wait for our turn, I occupied myself in taking a sketch of the main entrance.
In due time our warder appeared, and led the way towards the wonders of the building. Entering through a narrow archway, surmounted with small towers, we found ourselves on a bridge which crossed what was formerly the moat, but which is now a dry, sandy plain some sixty feet wide, and extending entirely around the castle. Then we came to a succession of small turrets, or square buildings, beyond all of which is the main or white tower; this with the Beauchamps is the most celebrated on the pages of history. It is square, or nearly so, and rises to the height of nearly one hundred feet, capped at the four corners by four higher peaks. In one of these turrets, called the Bell Tower, Queen Elizabeth was confined for some time, during the reign of her sister and rival, Bloody Mary. The “Bloody Tower” is beyond and unconnected with the old Tower. It is so called, because here is said to have been the scene of the murder of the two sons of Edward IV, 1483. The chamber in which the deed was perpetrated lies directly over the arched gateway, through which it was necessary to pass in order to reach the Devereaux Tower—so called from the fact of Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex, being confined there. The unfortunate Earl was beheaded on the green in front of the Chapel. We were also shown the prison where Lady Jane Grey was confined. One of the most interesting objects to the stranger is the collection of ancient armor, to visit which, as well as the regalia, or Queen’s jewels, a special ticket is required. The armory is situated south of the White Tower, and nearly opposite the Traitor’s Gate, through which nearly all celebrated criminals incarcerated here, passed to their dungeon. The armoy is singularly replete with specimens of ancient armor, many suits of which have actually been worn by celebrated kings and knights centuries ago. The following articles I noted, as having more than ordinary interest attached to them: A spear’s head, picked up on the field of Marathon; the entire armor, authenticated, of Henry VIII; groups in the form of stars, made of swords, scabbards, guns, pistols, etc.
From the armory to an interior room, where are deposited specimens of curious Indian armor and weapons, including a breech-looking gun, which the warder told us was used in the last century by the Hindoos. Thence into the most interesting of all the apartments of the fortress—at least it was so to me—viz: the apartments of Sir Walter Raleigh. The walls of this portion of the ancient pile are over fourteen feet in thickness, and wonderfully massive. The room in which he wrote his History of the World is only about twenty by twenty-four feet, and comparatively light and airy, with a recess looking off towards the river—although the view from its solitary and confined window is limited to walls and brick work, with a small patch of cloudy sky. To the right, as you enter through a narrow arch, is a small opening through which it was necessary to pass, bent almost double, which leads into the bed-chamber of the unfortunate but noble genius. Musty, damp, and dark as night, he spent twelve hours every day in its horrible recesses. The block on which he was beheaded has been lost; but there is another nearly as interesting, on which perished, so tradition says, Lady Jane Grey and Lord Dudley. The prints of the axe, which stands by rusty and grim with its long rest, are easily visible on the dreadful block.
Now passing down into the armory chamber, and out into the court, we pass to the court-yard of the citadel. To our right proceeding towards the Beauchamp Tower is a line of buildings now occupied, I believe, as barracks, but formerly used as a repository for arms, etc. Here occurred a fire a short time since, by which many valuable relics were destroyed. In front of this building, and also opposite the Beauchamp Tower, between four stones set in the pavement, is shown the place where Lady Jane Grey and her husband were executed. Anne Boleyn was also executed here, and many a noble gentleman, for refusing to criminate her. Here also perished Catherine Howard, another wife of Henry VIII.
The interest of the Beauchamp Tower is confined to one fact, the incarceration of Lady Jane Grey, her husband, and her followers. The walls of the room were shown into are covered with inscriptions and antique carvings of various illustrious persons imprisoned here. These carvings are now all in one room, but were not so originally, having been brought from various apartments around.—Here the guide took leave of us; and although no fees are allowed, a shilling, on the sly, is not unacceptable. Through great Tower street to Lombard, and thence to Cornhill, we have a view of three of the finest buildings in the city—the exchange, the house of the Lord Mayor, and the Bank of England. The latter is a low Grecian or Doric building occupying the whole of one block. It is built of a sort of white stone, clouded and blackened as all London is by its smoke and fogs; it is a fine building viewed both from its exterior and from its courts. This same white stone, I have observed, is the principal building material of public edifices in the city. The British Museum is built of it, the National Gallery, the Trafalgar street, St. Paul’s Cathedral, parts of the Tower, Westminster Abbey, and, in fact, nearly all the churches and fine edifices; but it is all dingy and somber, giving, however, an air of solidity and strength which the pure white stone untarnished would hardly possess. I would advise all the strangers in London to procure the services of what is called in France a valet de place—known by Americans as connoisseur, for it is impossible without such aid to see all of interest in this great city. London cannot be seen in a day. In fact I think that a year would hardly suffice.
The establishment of Madame Toussaud, in Baker street, next engaged our attention—a most interesting and remarkable exhibition. Entering through a fancy bazaar, (in which, by the way, you may find almost any article you want, from a 200 carriage to a 6d game,) you pass into the first, or wax work portion of the exhibition. Here are life-like figures, said to be the best in the world, representing nearly all the kings of England, as well as most of the great men of the ancient and modern world. One of these groups is composed of the royal family of England from the time of George III, and another of various illustrious personages connected with the court of the first Napoleon. But here we did not care to linger. The next three rooms I have no hesitation in pronouncing the most interesting, as regards historical relics, in the world. The first thing that attracted our attention was the camp bedstead upon which Napoleon slept while a prisoner at Longwood, and upon which he died. Besides this, the coronation robes of himself and Josephine, and the cradle of the King of Rome. On the walls hang many fine and interesting paintings—among them the portraits of Napoleon, Josephine, and Marie, Louise. In the second room are deposited most of the relics of the great Emperor, of which the most conspicuous is the military carriage which he used in many of his campaigns; it accompanied him through Russia, and was only abandoned when it became evident that a speedy return to Paris was the only way to save the army. He took a sleigh and left the carriage to be brought away by the troops or Marshal Ney. The interior of this singular oquipape is supplied with a writing desk, table, place for provisions, clothes, charts and diagrams, despatched and a sleeping place. This last so well contrived, that the Emperor is said to have remarked that in this he had enjoyed his sweetest sleep.—Seated in this carriage he witnessed burning Moscow—watched the developments, and gave the orders, which won the battle of Borodino. Another carriage is here which was used by him in St. Helens. Still another, used by him at his coronation in 1805, a very ponderous but magnificent car. Here too is the chair in which he most frequently sat in his prison cell, and the sword that he used in Egypt. This is a short similar, or turkish blade, very much curved. Under a glass case are placed a gold watch given by Napoleon to his his valet after the battle of Leipsic; a diamond, found in the carriage when it was captured by a corps of Blucher’s men, at a little hamlet 16 miles south of Waterloo. At this time Napoleon was pushing towards Paris, attended by only a few of his guards, when the enemy appeared on a hill in advance; the Emperor leaped from his coach, and hastily mounting a horse, fled by a cross road. The carriage with all its contents, including the diamond, his dressing-case, his toilet and part of his breakfast, enclosed in a silver basket, fell into their hands. The meat consisted of cold chicken, and it is said the hungry Prussians lost no time in appropriating the dish—probably ignorant that they were assisting at an imperial feast. We have here too the Atlas used by Napoleon in many of his battles, and which is rendered still more interesting by the plans and parts of plans, drawn by his own hand on some of its blank leaves. I could mention many other interesting relics of this most wonderful man. I have given the prominent ones. In this same room is the original Key of the Bastile, the mate of which is at Mount Vernon; also the shirt of Henry IV of France, worn by him when stabbed by Ravaillac, the stain of blood still on it, and a coat worn by Nelson at the battle of the Nile.
More of this in my next.
L.X.