London as seen by Charles Dana Gibson

NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS MDCCCXCVII Copyright, 1897, by Charles Scribner’s Sons Thanks are due to Life and the London Graphic for their kind permission to reproduce some of the drawings in this book. TROW DIRECTORY PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY NEW YORK
The Rat Man
AFTER a short journey through country divided by hedges into a green and gold checker-board; thatched roofs disappear, and chimney-pots take their place and flourish until you come to the Thames, where black barges in mid-stream wait for the muddy tide to turn, between banks of masts and smokestacks; then the Gothic buildings of Parliament, and “Big Ben,” and Charing Cross Station; and in another moment you are in London, riding through the never-ending restlessness of its streets in a cab that you can afford, with your hat-box safe by your side and your trunk up by the driver, and London with its history on all sides of you, its wooden streets and polished side-walks and bright shop windows, and at every corner small sweeps and big policemen, providing clean and safe crossing, while push-carts dodge in and out between steaming bus-horses and hansom cabs. This is always my first impression of London.
Outside Morley’s
As all Americans arrive in London with sea-legs after a week of ship’s cooking, it is doubly necessary to have been there before in order to know where to go at once for an on-shore dinner and good rooms. But before you arrive at either of these you once more become a part of the city and again feel perfectly at home, as you look from your cab window at theatrical lithographs to find out what is going on for that night; and no transformation scene on the stage is more complete than your own, from standing in the companion-way waiting for the ship’s run to be posted, to a few hours later sitting in a London theatre watching the stage rock from side to side.
I believe an American enjoys London more during his second visit. He is sure to be older for one thing, and with very little left of the prejudice he once had. He is not so apt to wear a sensitive patriotic chip on his shoulder, and for this reason he will give London a better opportunity to know him. If it is your second visit you have the pleasure of recognizing familiar types and places. Your hotel porter may remember you, and there may be one or two of the old waiters still left in the dining-room. Nelson’s Column and the National Gallery are former friends; also the recruiting sergeants, among them Sergeant Charley, the best known of all. He has stood at the corner of the National Gallery for many years, and has probably talked more country boys into Her Majesty’s service, consoled more weeping mothers, and cheered more disappointed maidens than any other man in the British army. There is no better place in which Sergeant Charley can operate than Trafalgar Square—or from which the stranger can begin London.