Close by is the vast and beautiful building, the Bank of England, containing a number of rooms of various dimensions, generally lighted from above, and destined to the various offices. Hundreds of clerks are here at work, and mechanically conduct the gigantic business, at which the ‘nil admirari’ becomes a difficult matter to a poor German; especially when he is admitted into the Bullion Office where the ingots are kept, and gazes astounded on the heaps of gold and silver which appear to him to realize the wonders of the Arabian Nights.
From hence I proceeded to the Town-House (Guildhall), where the Lord Mayor was just in the act of administering the law. The present Lord Mayor is a bookseller, but cut a very good figure in his blue gown and gold chain, and assumed a truly monarchical dignity. I do not think that he acquitted himself at all worse than a regular officer of justice;—ever since Sancho Panza’s time, it is admitted that a sound understanding often discerns the right more truly than learned subtlety.
The scene of action was a moderate-sized room, half-filled with the lowest populace. The matter in hand was the most frequent and ordinary theme in England—a theft; and as the culprit, who appeared equally indifferent and ‘ennuyé’, after a little hesitation, confessed the offence, the drama soon came to a close.
Further still did we wander on in the tumultuous ‘City,’ where you may be lost like a flitting atom, if you do not pass on to the right or left according to rule; where you seem to be in continual danger of being spitted on the shaft of a cabriolet driving too near the narrow ‘trottoir,’ or crushed under the weight of an overloaded and tottering stage-coach edifice. At length we reached an extremely dark and mean-looking coffee-house, called Garroway’s, where estates and houses of enormous value are daily put up to sale. We took our seat with great gravity, as if we had been desirous of making some important purchase, and admired the uncommon suavity of manner and incredible address with which the auctioneer excited the desire to purchase among his audience. He was very well dressed in black, with a wig, and stood with all the dignity of a professor in his chair. He pronounced a charming oration on every estate, and failed not to season it with various jokes and witticisms, at the same time eulogizing every object in so irresistible a manner that one would have sworn that all the property went for an old song.
How could I leave the city without visiting the true ‘Lion,’ (the English expression for anything extraordinary)—the sovereign—in a word, Rothschild?
I found him, too, in a poor obscure-looking place, (his residence is in another part of the town,) and making my way with some difficulty through the little court-yard, blocked up by a wagon laden with bars of silver, I was introduced into the presence of this Grand Ally of the Holy Alliance. I found the Russian consul in the act of paying his court. He is an acute, clever man, perfect in the part he has to play, and uniting the due respect with a becoming air of dignity. This was the more difficult, because the very original aristocrat of the city did not stand much on ceremony. On my presenting my letter of credit, he said ironically, that we were lucky people who could afford to travel about so, and take our pleasure; while he, poor man, had such a heavy burthen to bear. He then broke out into bitter complaints that every poor devil who came to England had something or other to ask of him. “Yesterday,” said he, “here was a Russian begging of me” (an episode which threw a bitter-sweet expression over the consul’s face); “and,” added he, “the Germans here don’t give me a moment’s peace.” Now it was my turn to put a good face upon the matter. After this, the conversation took a political turn, and we both of course agreed that Europe could not subsist without him;—he modestly declined our compliment, and said, smiling, “Oh no, you are only jesting—I am but a servant, who people are pleased with because he manages their affairs well, and to whom they let some crumbs fall as an acknowledgment.”
All this was said in a language quite peculiar to himself, half English, half German—the English part with a broad German accent, but with the imposing confidence of a man who feels such trifles to be beneath his attention. This truly original language struck me as very characteristic of a man who is unquestionably a person of genius, and of a certain sort of greatness of character.
I had begun my day, very appropriately for England, with the Royal Exchange, the resort of merchants, and ended it with Exeter ‘Change, where I saw the representatives of the colonies,—the wild beasts. Here I found another lion, and this time a genuine one, called Nero, who besides his tameness, has the rarer merit in our northern latitude, of having presented England with six generations of young lions. He is of enormous size and dignified aspect, but now rests upon his laurels and sleeps royally nearly all day long. If he wakes in an ill humour, however, he makes the old wooden house and all the herd of subject beasts tremble. These consist of elephants, tigers, leopards, hyænas, zebras, monkeys, ostriches, condors, parrots, &c. It is curious that they are not upon the ground floor, but up one or two pair of stairs, so that one can ride on a tame elephant which stands always ready saddled, and enjoy a fine extensive prospect. The variety is great, and the price moderate. The ambassador of the late King of Würtemburg had, as I well remember, more occupation here than in St. James’ and Downing Street; and, indeed, I know that he was for a considerable time in fear of losing his post on account of a strange enormous dead tortoise.
On the way home to my hotel we passed a house which furnished my cicerone with an occasion of telling the following interesting story. If it is ‘brodé,’ I beg of you to blame him and not me.[10]
October 13th.