So much for the common aspect of England as the traveller passes over it. The seeker after the picturesque may find abundant gratification in Devonshire, Derbyshire, Westmoreland, though Wales and Scotland, and parts of Ireland, are still more renowned for their beauty. So far as combinations of nature are concerned, nothing in the world can surpass some of our own scenery; as along the upper waters of the Housatonic and the Connecticut, or among the islands of Lake George, and a thousand other places: but these lack the embellishments of art and the associations of romance or song, which belong to the rival beauties of British landscapes.
I confine these remarks to a single topic, the aspect of England as it meets the eye of an American traveller. The English do not and cannot enjoy the spectacle as an American does; for they are born to it, and have no experience which teaches them to estimate it by common and inferior standards. Having said so much on this subject, I shall not venture to speak of English society: of the lights and shadows of life beneath the myriad roofs of towns and cities. The subject would be too extensive; and besides, it has been abundantly treated by others. I only say, in passing, that the English people are the best studied at home. John Bull, out of his own house, is generally a rough customer: here, by his fireside, with wife, children, and friends, he is generous, genial, gentlemanly. There is no hospitality like that of an Englishman, when you have crossed his threshold. Everywhere else he will annoy you. He will poke his elbow into your sides in a crowded thoroughfare; he will rebuff you if, sitting at his side in a railway-carriage, you ask a question by way of provoking a little conversation: he carries at his back a load of prejudices, like the bundle of Christian in the Pilgrim's Progress; and, instead of seeking to get rid of them, he is always striving to increase his collection. If he becomes a diplomat, his great business is to meddle in everybody's affairs; if an editor, he is only happy in proportion as he can say annoying and irritating things. And yet, catch this same John Bull at home, and his crusty, crocodile armor falls off, and he is the very best fellow in the world: liberal, hearty, sincere,—the perfection of a gentleman.
[CHAPTER XXII.]
LONDON AGAIN—JACOB PERKINS AND HIS STEAM-GUN—DUKES OF WELLINGTON, SUSSEX, AND YORK—BRITISH LADIES AT A REVIEW—HOUSE OF COMMONS AND ITS ORATORS—CATALANI—DISTINGUISHED FOREIGNERS—EDWARD IRVING COMPARED TO EDMUND KEAN—BYRON LYING IN STATE.
London, when I first knew it, was not what it is now. Its population has at least doubled since 1824. At that time Charing Cross was a filthy, triangular thoroughfare, a stand for hackney-coaches, a grand panorama of show-bills pasted over the surrounding walls, with the King's Mews in the immediate vicinity: this whole area is now the site of Trafalgar Square. This is an index of other and similar changes that have taken place all over the city. At the present day, London not only surpasses in its extent, its wealth, its accumulations of all that belongs to art, the extent of its commerce, the vastness of its influence, all the cities that now exist, but all that the world has before known.
King George IV. was then on the throne, and though he was shy of showing himself in public, I chanced to see him several times, and once to advantage, at Ascot Races. For more than an hour his majesty stood in the pavilion, surrounded by the Duke of Wellington, the Duke of York, the Marquis of Anglesea, and other persons of note. But for the star on his left breast, and the respect paid to him, he might have passed as only an over-dressed and rather sour old rake. I noticed that his coat sat very close and smooth, and was told that he was trussed and braced by stays. It was said to be the labor of at least two hours to prepare him for a public exhibition. He was a dandy to the last. The wrinkles of his coat, after it was on, were cut out by the tailor, and carefully drawn up with the needle. He had the gout, and walked badly. I imagine there were few among the thousands gathered to the spectacle who were really less happy than his majesty—the monarch of the three kingdoms.
I saw the Duke of Wellington not only on this, but on many subsequent occasions. I think the portraits give a false idea of his personal appearance. He was really a rather small, thin, insignificant-looking man, unless you saw him on horseback. He then seemed rather stately, and in a military dress, riding always with inimitable ease, he sustained the image of the great general. At other times I never could discover in his appearance anything but the features and aspect of an ordinary, and certainly not prepossessing, old man. I say this with great respect for his character, which, as a personification of solid sense, indomitable purpose, steady loyalty, and unflinching devotion to a sense of public duty, I conceive to be one of the finest in British history.
At this period our countryman, Jacob Perkins, was astonishing London with his steam-gun. He was certainly a man of extraordinary genius, and was the originator of numerous useful inventions. At the time of which I write, he fancied that he had discovered a new mode of generating steam, by which he was not only to save a vast amount of fuel, but to obtain a marvellous increase of power. So confident was he of success, that he told me he felt certain of being able, in a few months, to go from London to Liverpool with the steam produced by a gallon of oil. Such was his fertility of invention, that while pursuing one discovery others came into his mind, and, seizing upon his attention, kept him in a whirl of experiments, in which many things were begun, and comparatively nothing completed.