TRINITY HOUSE.
Let us now pay a visit to the Trinity House, in London, taking as our guide the shrewd and lively author of “The English at Home.”
Opposite the Tower of London, he says, or, more strictly speaking, opposite the ancient fosses of that fortress, now converted into an agreeable promenade, extends a fine open area of green turf, edged round with shrubs; and, in the rear of this square, rises an edifice which seems purposedly to isolate itself from the noise of the multitude—it is the Trinity House.
The abode of this important maritime Society was formerly situated in Water Lane, whence it was driven out by two successive conflagrations; otherwise, could any better choice be made than the immediate neighbourhood of the Thames, of the great docks, and of the forest of masts which crowds it for many miles, like the parks or plantations of great trees which surround at a distance the manorial mansions of the English aristocracy?
The principal features of the edifice, erected in 1793 by James Wyatt, are, a massive basement, surmounted by a single story enriched with Doric columns and pilasters, the whole built of Portland stone. On the façade, numerous genii, which, with round faces and puffed-out cheeks, might be taken for so many cupids, hold in their hands anchors, compasses, and marine charts. These emblems, however, sufficiently indicate the character of the institution.
The ground-floor in the interior is occupied by offices; the upper contains some noble apartments, to which admission can only be procured by special favour. A noble vestibule leads to a double staircase of stone, whose two branches, after ascending in different directions, unite in a central landing-place, enriched with ornaments and sculptures. On the right, in a semicircle described by the wall, is framed a large oil painting, by Gainsborough’s nephew, representing a body of past “Elder Brethren,” grouped together, and in uniform. On the left, in panels of glass, are inscribed the names of various benefactors of the establishment, and the amount of their bequests. Massive doors of mahogany introduce the visitor into the Board Room, whose ceiling, painted in 1796, by a French artist named Rigaud, and loaded with sprawling allegories, exhibits the Prosperity of England as springing from Navigation and Commerce. The British Neptune advances in triumph, surrounded by sea-horses, and attended by Tritons. In one hand he carries a trident, in the other the shield of the United Kingdom. His march is protected by cannons and other instruments of war, while genii hovering round him wave the standard of Great Britain. The standard may pass muster; but cannons! Is not this an abuse of anachronism even for a picture? On the other side, Britannia, seated on a rock, receives in her bosom the products of different countries. Sea nymphs, bending under their weight of riches, hasten from every quarter, and seamen spread upon the shores of England the fruits of an extended commerce. Children wave to and fro their torches in representation of the lights which encircle the coasts of the British Isles, and during the darkness of night direct the movements of her ships.
The walls of this saloon are decorated with portraits of George IV., William IV., and their queens, for royalty itself is no stranger to the annals of the Trinity House, and monarchs honour themselves by figuring among the insignia of the fraternity of which they have been the members and the patrons. The Duke of Wellington’s portrait, by Lucas, is considered the best in existence of the Conqueror of Waterloo. The busts of the Queen and the late Prince Consort, in white marble, by Noble—one of the few living sculptors who have attained to celebrity in England—rest solemnly at the two corners of the mantelpiece. Twenty arm-chairs ranged round a large table shaped like a crescent, and covered with a green cloth, mark the places of the members of the Council at their various meetings. The associates of the Trinity House think, with Ben Jonson, that good repasts encourage brotherly feeling. The dining-room, lighted by a kind of circular lantern which surmounts the ceiling, displays what may very justly be called a quiet and substantial luxury. Here we may remark the bust of William Pitt, by Chantrey; portraits of the Earl of Sandwich, the Duke of Bedford, Sir Francis Drake, and, especially, that of Sir Kenelm Digby, by Vandyke. At regular intervals, some excellent models of lighthouses in relief, preserved under glass, remind the visitor of the all-important object of this ancient Corporation.