To her dear memory, who—with a companion-mother yet in the flesh—of all friends most encouraged our proposed adventure; who more deeply and sincerely than any other mortals were solicitous for our safety and happiness while wandering among strangers and historic shadows in foreign lands; and who welcomed us with inexpressible gratitude on our return,—to them both, with filial affection, we inscribe this chapter; and among the world's great we erect shrine and monument to our own revered dead,—greater, to our hearts, than the monarchs or heroes who beneath cathedral pavements sleep.
We return to the material aspect of the abbey and speak of its history. How full of incident! How long the catalogue of devotees and prelates and crusaders, of monks and nuns, of heroes both of the very old time and of the new.
The abbey was founded near the close of the seventh century, and was in full operation by the middle of the eighth. The larger portion of the present structure was completed in the thirteenth century. It is a coincidence that the years since its completion, and its length in feet, exclusive of the Henry VII. chapel, are equal,—511. The extreme breadth at transepts is 203 feet; and the height of the nave, from the pavement to the highest point of the groined arch, is 102 feet. The towers are 225 feet to top of the pinnacles. This west front, added by Sir Christopher Wren, though of good general outline, is faulty in architectural detail. English sovereigns, from Edward the Confessor to Queen Victoria, have all been crowned here, and the coronation chair, a clumsy, square structure of wood, is shown the visitor. Monuments of Queen Elizabeth and of Mary Stuart—who died respectively March 24, 1603, and December 28, 1684—are in the south aisle. The latter, as well as Mary Tudor, is buried in the Henry VII. chapel, a most elegant example of perpendicular Gothic architecture, at the choir end of the abbey. We left the place after a cursory examination, in expectation of repetitions of the visit.
The Houses of Parliament, only a few hundred feet away, are built of a light-brown sandstone, with an elaborate finish in every part. As we observed the disintegration already at work, we could but deplore the fact that such bad counsel obtained, when the structure was erected, as to be incredibly lavish in working up the outside finish to this extraordinary richness, while unwilling to reduce the decoration, so as to expend the labor on a more durable stone, even at the expense of some extravagance of detail. Attempts at minute description cannot be expected here. The Thames washes the terrace on the rear. The end with the great bell-tower, the most elegant in the world, is but a few feet from the main avenue, and almost at the London end of Westminster Bridge. The premises are enclosed by a grand, cast-iron fence. These grounds, though limited, are ample; and about this end, and its principal front, are thoroughfares of the best parts of the great city. The structure covers eight acres, and contains eleven hundred apartments. There are a hundred staircases, and two miles of corridors. The corner-stone was laid April 27, 1840, and the total cost of the edifice, up to 1874, was $20,000,000. The principal rooms for the House of Lords and House of Commons, compared to the size of the building, are much too small. The former is 100 feet long, 45 feet only in width and height, was opened for use in 1847, and is the most gorgeous legislative hall in the world. The latter is 60 feet long, and 55 feet wide and high. While elaborate in finish, it is not, of course, the equal of its companion. The windows of both, and in fact through the entire building, are of exquisitely stained glass. The Victoria Tower, at the southwest angle, is 75 feet square, and 340 feet high,—a magnificent work finished in 1857. The central octagonal tower, with a spire above it, is 60 feet diameter and 300 feet high. The Clock Tower, at the end towards Westminster Bridge, at an angle of the building, is 40 feet square, 300 feet high, and has four dials 30 feet diameter. The great bell on which the hours are struck is called Great Stephen. It was cast in 1858, and weighs over eight tons, taking the place of a broken one which was called Big Ben of Westminster. There is a chime of bells on which the quarter and half hours are chimed. As may be imagined, frescoes and statuary abound. There is no part of the exterior of the structure where exuberance of carving is not to be found,—all of course in the same stone of which the building is composed.
A minute's walk from the front of the Houses of Parliament, and we are at the London end of Westminster Bridge, looking over the turbid waters of England's celebrated river. How much is implied when one speaks of the River Thames! John Denhan, like all Londoners, was in love with it, and said:—
Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean's sons
By his old sire, to his embraces runs,—
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity.
The river is about fifteen hundred feet wide, and runs with quite a current toward the sea. The muddy water rises and falls twelve or more feet with the tide. Standing at our right are the Parliament Houses, with a vast length of nine hundred feet, their grounds adjoining the bridge. We pass from the bridge to the left, and along the river. Bounding it is the Victoria Embankment, built of finely hammered granite, and finished with a moulded parapet. At proper intervals are pedestals, surmounted by ornamental and appropriate lamp-posts. At especial points are stone stairways down to the floating rafts and steamer landings. This embankment extends between Westminster and Blackfriars Bridges, and is a mile long. It was finished in 1870, at a cost of $10,000,000. It is one hundred feet wide on the roadway, and follows the curving line of the river. Next the sea-wall is a sidewalk of liberal width, with shade-trees. Outside of this, and about sixty feet wide, is the macadamized roadway. Beyond, and extending to the fence lines, is another sidewalk; and bordering this are small public squares fronting important buildings. Prominent among these is Somerset House, with its three thousand windows and one thousand rooms. From Blackfriars Bridge the river is bordered by buildings, wooden landings, and small docks,—continuing thus for a mile or more, to the Tower of London.
The high buildings are built of brick, in a common and cheap warehouse style, hardly in keeping with this important part of the city. London Bridge terminates among these; but it is elevated, so that its entrance is above the waterside buildings, and has a spacious approach, as its importance demands. At Blackfriars Bridge—the end of the Victoria Embankment—the road diverges to the left somewhat, and runs up towards St. Paul's Cathedral, which is on slightly elevated ground, perhaps a half-mile away. It is about two thirds of the way between Blackfriars and London Bridge, and not far from an eighth of a mile from the river. The triangle thus formed is filled with warehouses. The streets are well paved, clean, and full of business. The avenues are not very wide; some of them are quite crooked; and there are many lanes and alleys, or short-cuts across-lots.
Parts of New York, as, for instance, about Williams and Fulton streets,—or even Boston, in North Street,—well represent the vicinity of London Bridge, Paul's and Wharf avenues. We have now traversed the embankment for two and a half miles, and begin our survey of the opposite side. Beginning at the Lambeth end of Westminster Bridge, we have another elegant river-wall,—the southern one, or Albert Embankment,—built like the other, and at a cost of $5,500,000. It extends from Westminster Bridge nearly to Vauxhall Bridge to the right, and opposite the Houses of Parliament. The new St. Thomas Hospital buildings, four or five in number, are of brick with granite dressings, facing the embankment, and of course the Parliament Houses on the other side of the river. Above this is the Chelsea Embankment, opened in 1874. It continues on to the old Battersea Bridge, the whole presenting a massive stone wall. Beyond it, back from the river at this end, is a series of pleasure grounds, Lambeth Place, etc. This is the old Episcopal seat of the Church, and the usual residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury. It is noted as being the place of ecclesiastical councils for many centuries.