Henry III. enlarged the abbey, and the building continued in the state in which he left it until Henry VII. added a chapel, built in the florid Gothic style, on which the greatest skill of the architect and the sculptor was displayed; exhibiting the most splendid structure of the age, and so highly esteemed, that it was enjoined that the remains of royalty alone should be interred within its walls.
During the reign of Henry VIII., of its revenues, Henry raised Westminster to the dignity of a city, and its abbey was constituted a cathedral. It was, however, afterwards re-united to London in 1550.
Westminster Abbey, during the reign of William and Mary, was thoroughly repaired, and the towers added at the western entrance, under the direction of the celebrated Sir Christopher Wren, to whom London owes so much of its architectural grandeur.
The length of the abbey is 416 feet; breadth, at the transept, 203 feet; nave 102 feet; height of the west tower 225 feet. The exterior measurement, including Henry VII.'s Chapel, is 530 feet.
On entering the great western door between the towers, the magnificence of the abbey at once strikes the beholder with reverential awe. Nearly the whole of the interior appears in grand masses of towering Gothic columns of gray marble, connecting the pavement with the roof, and separating the nave from the side aisles. A screen divides the nave from the choir, which is surmounted by a noble organ, while beyond, the eye soars amid graceful columns, tracery, and decorated windows, to the summit of the eastern arch that overlooks the adjacent chapels.
The walls on either side display a great profusion of sepulchral monuments, among which are many finely executed pieces of sculpture, and touching memorials of those whose exploits or exertions deserve the notice of posterity.
There is probably no building in the world around which cluster so many varied and thrilling associations as the Tower in London. For centuries it had been the theatre of England's bloodiest deeds, and its gray old walls stand as the lasting monument of tyranny, despotism, and death. Every stone in that structure has a history to tell. Centuries have come and gone, whole dynasties disappeared, and yet that old Tower still rises in its strength. It is situated in the east part of the metropolis, and on the north side of the river Thames. Its area measures twelve acres. Its origin has been imputed by some to Julius Cæsar. Still, the generally received opinion is, that the White Tower which is the oldest and principal edifice, owes its beginning to William the Conqueror, about 1076. This noted tower is 96 feet in breadth, 116 in length, and 92 in height. Its walls are 14 feet thick. The mint and menagerie which formerly gave notoriety to the tower, have been removed. The common entrance of the tower is on the west side through four gates, which are daily opened with much form and ceremony. I saw nothing so interesting to me in the tower as the Horse Armory, which is a hundred and fifty feet long, and thirty-three wide, containing a line of equestrian figures, as if in battle array, stretching through the centre. A banner is over the head of each—the ceiling is covered with arms and accoutrements—the walls with armor and figures of ancient warriors. That row of twenty-two horsemen, large as life, armed to the teeth, with helmet and cuirass, and breastplate, and coats of mail, and lances, and swords, and battle-axes, and shields, sitting grim and silent there, is a sight one will not easily forget. They seem ready to charge on the foe, and their attitude and aspect are so fierce, that one almost trembles to walk in front of the steeds. Another object of curiosity is the immense store of fire arms, sufficient to equip one hundred and fifty thousand men, and beautifully arranged for show. Fee for seeing the Armory, sixpence; the Regalia, two shillings and sixpence.
The ship being ready, about the first of February, 1841, we set sail for St. Johns. After a good passage of seventeen days, we saw Mount Desert, on the coast of the United States. At night there were many indications of bad weather; the ship rolled carelessly over the long heavy swell—the light breeze whistled mournfully through the rigging; all at once the main-top-gallant sheet (being chained) parted. Men were sent to bind or fasten it again—while in the act of obeying that order, the main-topsail sheet, (being chained also,) parted. This was considered by the crew as ominous; some prophesied that the ship would be lost, others, that there was some one on board who had committed some awful crime on shore—all were in a state of consternation. At length the Captain went below, and in a moment came running back, saying, "Shorten the sails as fast as possible, for the barometer has fallen 4-10 in five minutes; bare a hand my good fellows, there is not a moment to lose." Every sail was soon clewed up to the yards, and lowered—there was no wind though it was cloudy, and all thought the barometer had deceived us, but we soon enough found that the truth was told; for while we were yet on the yards it came butt-end foremost, (as it is termed,) and blew with utmost fury. We were unable to get down, consequently were obliged to make the best of it by clinging fast to the rigging, and it was with difficulty that we did so. The water rushed over the deck, the scuppers would not allow it to run off. During this time the Captain was calling aloud with the trumpet, but its sounds did not reach our ears. The breeze lulled a little, and those in the rigging were enabled to get down, when it came with redoubled fury; our main-top-sail was carried away; then we lay twelve hours beating about by wind and waves, amid torrents of rain. At length the wind died away into a start calm; the sea at the same time running very irregular, the waves mounting to the height of twenty or thirty feet. Sail was made as quick as possible, which relieved the laboring of the ship; the fore and main top-sails which had been cleared away were repaired. The wind wore away into the South West. We shaped our course so as to shun the St. George's shoals which we were very near, and stood for St. Johns. The breeze freshened every moment until we found ourselves going at the rate of ten knots per hour. This was indeed cheering after the fearful situation we had but just escaped. But this was not always to last, for we were soon enveloped in a fog so dense, that it was with the greatest difficulty we could manage the ship. We shortened sail, hauled our wind, and according to our own reckoning stood across the bay to the rock known as the Old Proprietor, feeling our way along, we were nearing the Nova Scotia shore. Falling in with a fisherman, we found we were five miles below the grand passage; shaped our course up the bay. Having a fair tide we were soon above Grand Menan, and past most of our danger; firing a gun once in two or three minutes as a signal for a pilot. The fog cleared away a little so as to enable us to press more sail. Soon we saw Split Rock, and finding that we had not proceeded as far as we had supposed, we pressed more sail, setting studding sails on the starboard side, still keeping up the firing which soon brought a pilot, who speedily brought us to safe anchorage in the harbor of St. Johns.
When the ship was safely moored, all hands were discharged. Feeling something of a desire to quit the seas, I resolved to remain on shore a while at least, and in pursuance of that resolution, obtained employment at rigging vessels, which business I followed nearly four months; when getting tired and uneasy of the monotony of such a life, I shipped as mate of the brig Comet, the last of July, bound, for Londonderry, (Ireland,) with plank for cargo. Nothing unusual occurred on our passage, and in due time arrived at Londonderry and discharged our cargo.
The little leisure time allotted us was spent in rambling around the city. Londonderry is situated on the west bank of the Foyle. The original town was built in 1603, but was burned in 1608. The wall of the city was about twenty feet high, and about eight thick, of splendid architecture, though somewhat ancient. The walls are mounted with towers at interval of two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet; these towers, and also the walls between them are mounted with cannon. The city is entered by four gates which are of iron, of the same height of the walls.