AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
SIR JOHN RENNIE, F.R.S.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
SIR JOHN RENNIE, F.R.S.,
PAST PRESIDENT OF THE INSTITUTION OF CIVIL ENGINEERS.

COMPRISING
THE HISTORY OF HIS PROFESSIONAL LIFE,
TOGETHER WITH
REMINISCENCES DATING FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE CENTURY
TO THE PRESENT TIME.

LONDON:
E. & F. N. SPON, 48, CHARING CROSS.
NEW YORK:
446, BROOME STREET.
1875.

PREFACE.

The following Autobiography was written by Sir John Rennie in 1867, shortly after he had retired from the active duties of his profession. As will be perceived in the sequel, it was composed wholly from memory. Sir John was subsequently unable to revise it as he would have desired, and it has since been found impossible to do so. Nevertheless it is believed that but few substantial errors will be found; while the kindliness with which the autobiographer invariably speaks of every person with whom he came in contact, is a guarantee that there can be nothing to offend the most sensitive person, or which might tend to injure the just claims and reputations of others. It is now presented to the public in its original state, having undergone merely some necessary correction, in the hope that the memoirs of the man who was perhaps unrivalled in his branch of the profession—and which comprise valuable hints as to the neglected art of hydraulics, as well as advice to engineers commencing their career, the result of the experience of a lifetime of no ordinary duration—together with the reminiscences of one who had seen much both of men and things,

“Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes,”

may not be unacceptable either to the profession or the world at large.

London, September, 1875.

CONTENTS.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
SIR JOHN RENNIE.

CHAPTER I.

My birth and early education—I enter my Father’s office—Commencement of Waterloo and Southwark Bridges—Anecdotes of Mr. Ferguson, of Pitfour—The Stockton and Darlington Railway and Surveys between Port Patrick and Donaghadee—Account of the mode of erecting the arches of Southwark Bridge—Journey to the Continent and Field of Waterloo—Account of the building of Waterloo Bridge—It is opened in State by the Prince Regent, 1817.

I was born at 27, Stamford Street, Blackfriars, London, on the 30th of August, 1794. Having been taught my letters at home, I was sent to the care of Dr. Greenlaw, who kept a boys’ school at Isleworth. It was a large house, formerly belonging to the Bishop of London. To the house were attached excellent gardens and playground. The situation, moreover, was open and healthy, and the total number of boys was about fifty, ranging from eight to sixteen years of age. They were well fed and taken care of by the Doctor’s excellent wife, and his sister-in-law, Miss Hodgkins. The Doctor’s eldest daughter, Miss Greenlaw, taught the youngest boys their letters; whilst the Doctor and his assistants devoted themselves to the education of the others, which education consisted chiefly of classics, writing, arithmetic, French, and occasionally geography and the elements of astronomy. During the time that I was there the most remarkable scholar was the celebrated poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley, who was then about twelve or thirteen (as far as I can remember), and even at that early age exhibited considerable poetical talent, accompanied by a violent and extremely excitable temper, which manifested itself in all kinds of eccentricities. His figure was of the middle size, although slight, but well made. His head was well proportioned, and covered with a profusion of brown locks; his features regular, but rather small; his eyes hazel, restless, and brilliant; his complexion was fair and transparent; and his countenance rather effeminate, but exceedingly animated. The least circumstance that thwarted him produced the most violent paroxysms of rage; and when irritated by other boys, which they, knowing his infirmity, frequently did by way of teasing him, he would take up anything, or even any little boy near him, to throw at his tormentors. His imagination was always roving upon something romantic and extraordinary, such as spirits, fairies, fighting, volcanoes, &c., and he not unfrequently astonished his schoolfellows by blowing up the boundary palings of the playground with gunpowder, also the lid of his desk in the middle of schooltime, to the great surprise of Dr. Greenlaw himself and the whole school. In fact, at times he was considered to be almost upon the borders of insanity; yet with all this, when treated with kindness, he was very amiable, noble, high-spirited, and generous; he used to write verse, English and Latin, with considerable facility, and attained a high position in the school before he left for Eton, where, I understand, he was equally, if not more, extraordinary and eccentric.

Cotemporary with Shelley there was another peculiar character, named Tredcroft, from the same county, viz. Sussex; he also had considerable poetical talent, but unfortunately lost his health, and ultimately, I understand, died completely imbecile at an early age. I remained at this school until the year 1807, by which time I had acquired a tolerable knowledge of the Greek and Latin classics, and arithmetic as far as vulgar fractions and decimals. I was then sent to the celebrated Dr. Burney’s, at Greenwich, where there were about 100 boys, varying from ten to eighteen.

Dr. Charles Burney was considered one of the best Greek and Latin scholars of the day, and was the intimate friend of Porson and numerous other literary celebrities. His school was therefore very highly esteemed for classics, but for little or nothing else; for although a certain quantity of arithmetic and the elements of algebra and geometry were taught, yet these were quite secondary to the classics.

I therefore made little further progress in anything but classics, in which I became a tolerable proficient, and had Homer, Thucydides, Euripides, Sophocles, Virgil, Horace, &c., at my fingers’ ends, whilst I could scarcely demonstrate the Pons asinorum of Euclid; in fact, in those days a knowledge of Greek and Latin was considered as including everything else, and anything like a science or physics was considered of secondary consequence. I made the acquaintance of two men, who afterwards much distinguished themselves by their scientific acquirements, namely, the late Herbert Mayo, the well-known surgeon and physiologist; also the late Sir George Everest, the scientific Director of the Triangular Survey of India; and Dr. Milman, late Dean of St. Paul’s. Dr. Burney’s school was by no means so well managed as that of Dr. Greenlaw in everything which regarded the comfort of the boys, neither were they so well fed or looked after, and it was a great relief to me when I left the school in 1809.

It then became a question with my father whether I should go to Oxford or Cambridge, or whether I should finish my education at home, under the superintendence of proper masters. About this period, and ever since the year 1802, there was nothing but war heard or talked of all over the world. The whole country was as it were turned into a camp; every man capable of bearing arms became a volunteer, and at school even we were regularly drilled to the use of arms; and I was so excited by the extraordinary victories of Nelson and the early career of Wellington that I determined to enter the army, but to this my father was decidedly opposed, as he wished to bring me up to his own profession. I was therefore reluctantly obliged to give up all idea of the military profession and follow that of a civil engineer; and my father wisely determined that I should go through all the gradations, both practical and theoretical, which could not be done if I went to the University, as the practical part, which he considered most important, must be abandoned; for, he said, after a young man has been three or four years at the University of Oxford or Cambridge, he cannot, without much difficulty, turn himself to the practical part of civil engineering. All idea, therefore, of my going to Cambridge or Oxford was given up. My father at that period had one department of his business exclusively devoted to practical mechanics, that is, to the making of machinery of all kinds; this department, although it formed by no means the principal part of his profession, nevertheless enabled him to make experiments which were of great value in the other departments of his business, and was by no means unprofitable, as the importance of machinery and mechanical contrivances was then to a certain extent appreciated, and was daily becoming more so. My father always said that theoretical and practical mechanics were the true foundations of all civil engineering; and he therefore insisted that as I had to a certain extent learned the theoretical, so I must now learn the practical part. I was therefore sent into the mechanical department, and commenced work planing and sawing boards, making patterns, and other similar works. After this I was put to turning both wood and metal; and although I did not attain complete practical efficiency in these departments, which would have required several years, nevertheless I learned sufficient to enable me to become a tolerable judge of workmanship.

I was then put into the drawing office, where I learned to copy geometrical plans, by which, in a short time, in combination with what I had acquired in the workshop, I gained a general knowledge of design and construction.

My time was employed in this manner about eight hours daily, but my evenings were devoted to the acquisition of geometry, algebra, and trigonometry, plane and spherical; also astronomy under the late Astronomer Royal, Mr. Pond, and his father-in-law, Dr. Bradley, and in learning French, Italian, and German. Having acquired to a certain extent a proficiency in the mathematical sciences, I was placed under the direction of the late Mr. Francis Giles, a land surveyor of considerable experience and ability, who was generally employed by my father to make his various hydraulic surveys for canals and harbours under his immediate direction, which Mr. Giles executed with his usual fidelity and ability. Under Mr. Giles I learned the use of the chain, level, and theodolite, and was enabled to apply my theoretical knowledge in trigonometry, plane and spherical, to practice. About this period, viz. the year 1813, having obtained a tolerable knowledge of the rudiments of my profession, both theoretical and practical, my father determined to place upon my shoulders a certain degree of responsibility, and put me under the direction of that late worthy and excellent man, Mr. James Hollingsworth, whom my father had appointed to be resident engineer of the Waterloo Bridge, which was then building. I felt the responsibility of this office a good deal, and entered upon it with every determination and desire to meet my father’s approbation; and during the inclement winter of 1813-14, when the frost lasted about two months, and the Thames above London Bridge was frozen over for several weeks, I was obliged to attend the piling of the foundations of the first and second piers on the Surrey side of the river night and day for three days each week, which severely tried my constitution.

At this period Vauxhall Bridge was also in course of construction, and I was directed by my father to attend to this also, under Mr. Jones, the resident engineer; but they had scarcely finished the Middlesex abutment up to the springing of the first arch, and were preparing the caisson for founding the first pier, when the Company found that they had not sufficient funds to carry into effect Mr. Rennie’s design, which was very beautiful. The bridge was to be made entirely of the fine blue sandstone from Dundee, and was to consist of seven arches, segments of circles, the centre arch being 110 feet span, with a rise or versed sine of 19 feet, and depth of keystone 4 feet 6 inches; piers 18 feet 6 inches thick at the springing of the arch, the two arches next the centre being 105 feet span each, with a rise or versed sine of 17 feet, keystone 4 feet 5 inches, and springing stones 9 feet long, and the two piers 17 feet 6 inches thick each. The two next arches were 100 feet span, with a rise or versed sine of 15 feet, keystones 4 feet 4 inches, and springers 9 feet, and piers 17 feet thick each; the two sub or shore arches 90 feet span each, with a rise or versed sine of 13 feet, keystones 4 feet, and springers 8 feet, abutments 21 feet thick at the springing, having a total width of waterway of 700 feet. The arches were surmounted by a Roman Doric cornice and plain block and plinth parapet, and the projecting points of the piers were surmounted by solid square pilasters, with a niche in the centre. The roadway was 34 feet wide between the parapets, and was formed by a very flat segment of a circle rising 1 in 53. The piers were intended to be founded by caissons resting upon a platform supported by bearing and surrounded by sheeting piles. This was upon the whole a very elegant, light, and chaste design. Finding that the Company had not sufficient funds to carry into effect the stone design, Mr. Rennie proposed another wholly of iron, consisting of eleven arches, with a total waterway of 732 feet, supported upon cast-iron columns filled with masonry and resting upon a platform supported upon piles and surrounded by sheeting piles. The centre arch was to be 86 feet span and 8 feet rise, and the others diminishing regularly to each end so as to enable the roadway to be formed into a graceful curve rising 1 foot in 60. This also was an extremely light, elegant, and economical design. The total cost of this elegant design was estimated at 100,000l., and would have been executed first, but at that time even this amount was not forthcoming. The works then stopped, and some time elapsed before the Company was resumed, and ultimately constructed the present bridge.

In the year 1814-15 my father was appointed engineer-in-chief of the Southwark Bridge Company, and as this was proposed to be constructed in the narrowest part of the river between Blackfriars and the Old London Bridge, considerable opposition was made to the Act of Parliament for its construction by the Corporation of London and the Conservators of the river, on account of the obstruction which they said the bridge would offer to the navigation; this however was finally overcome, but it was decided by Parliament that the bridge should be constructed with as large arches as possible. Accordingly Mr. Rennie submitted a design consisting of three cast-iron arches, the centre being 240 feet span, with a versed sine of 24 feet, and two side arches of 210 feet each, with a versed sine or rise of 18 feet 10 inches each, with piers of 24 feet wide each at the springing, thus giving a clear lineal waterway of 660 feet, which was a great deal more than that of the Old London Bridge at that time existing. This design was approved of and ordered to be carried into effect. By this time, with the experience of the Waterloo and Vauxhall bridges and my other studies, I had gained considerable knowledge in bridge building, and my father was anxious to give me as much encouragement as possible; although, therefore, he appointed a worthy and practical man, Mr. Meston, as nominally the resident engineer, yet he confided to me the arduous task of making out the working drawings under his own direction, and of carrying them into effect. I therefore felt highly gratified with this great mark of confidence, and devoted my whole energies to the work night and day. The ironwork was carried into effect by Messrs. Walker, of Rotherham, under the able management of their experienced and able superintendent, Mr. Yeats, and the masonry and piling under the well-known contractors, Messrs. Jolliffe and Banks; and Mr. Meston, the resident engineer, faithfully discharged his duties.

As these arches were the largest of the kind ever constructed, considerable doubts as to their stability occurred to many, and the subject was discussed amongst scientific men with considerable energy; and amongst others, the celebrated Dr. Young undertook to investigate Mr. Rennie’s calculations, and came to the conclusion that the bridge was well designed, and would be a perfectly safe and stable structure, and equal to the support of any weight or amount of traffic which could be brought over it. But in order to fulfil these conditions, it was absolutely necessary that every detail of materials and workmanship should be worked out with the greatest skill and accuracy.

As the arches were of such great span with so small rise, the pressure upon the piers and abutments was chiefly lateral; it therefore became necessary to construct them in such a manner that they should offer the most effectual resistance to this pressure. In consequence, the foundations of the abutments were made on an incline, and the masonry from thence upwards to the springing of the arches was made to consist of a series of courses radiating upwards until they reached the angle of the springing courses; so that, in point of fact, the abutments formed, as it were, a continuation of the side arches to their base; and in order to connect the courses of masonry more solidly together, the courses were connected with each other from the top to the bottom by several series of vertical bond stones, thus forming one solid immovable mass. These abutments were supported on a platform composed of piles, double sleepers, and planking, the piles being 20 feet long, 12 inches in diameter in the middle, and driven solidly into the ground at right angles to the inclination of the foundation. As the pressure upon the piers was nearly equal on both sides, it was necessary that the foundations should be laid level. These also rest upon a wooden platform of double sills and planking, lying upon piles of the same dimensions as those of the abutments, driven vertically into the ground below, and the courses of masonry, which were laid horizontally, were connected together in the vertical direction by a series of bond stones in a similar manner to those of the abutments. The abutments and piers were founded many feet below low-water mark of spring tides, so as to be below the reach of any possible scour of the river. Those parts of the piers from immediately below the springing of the arches to a point above the top of the main solid ribs of the arches were composed of large blocks of stone set nearly vertically, breaking bond laterally and vertically with each other, and in the centre of this part of the piers there was a set of keystones 12 feet long and 2 feet thick, tapering on each side, forming so many stone wedges. These were very finely worked on all sides. These wedge stones broke bond laterally with the blocks in front of them, and were firmly driven into their places for a depth of 2 feet by means of heavy wooden rams. The masonry of the pilasters and salient angles of the piers is of the same character as those of the interior of the pier before described, and worked into them in the same manner, so as to form one solid bond from one point of the pier to the other. The whole of the exterior of this part of the piers, as well as of the abutments, is cased with granite from Scotland or Cornwall; and it was necessary that the blocks forming this casing should be of the largest kind, which hitherto was quite unusual, particularly for the facing of the abutments from whence the arches were to spring, which required blocks from 15 to 20 tons. These were of such unusual magnitude, and nothing of the kind had hitherto been used in London, or even elsewhere in England, that the contractors made considerable objection to obtaining them, and even went so far as to say that it could not be done. I was perfectly convinced that it could be done, and that it was merely a question of a little extra expense, and strongly recommended my father to insist upon it, as it was absolutely necessary for the security of the bridge; and he did so, and directed me to proceed to Aberdeen for the purpose of obtaining them. I accordingly started for Aberdeen; and when there, carefully examined all the quarries in the neighbourhood, which I found had only been opened up on a small scale, and were merely adapted for getting paving stones, the commerce of which with London was then upon a considerable scale; but the idea of obtaining blocks of the size required for the Southwark Bridge was considered to be entirely out of the question; or, even if they could be obtained, the price would be such that the contractors would not consent to pay. In fact, so many difficulties and objections were made that I found nothing could be done in that quarter. I therefore determined to proceed to Peterhead, 30 miles farther northward, where the red granite abounds in large masses near the coast, and where I was told that I should probably succeed; but still, they said, even there it would be very difficult to get them. Upon arriving at Peterhead I immediately set to work exploring the adjacent country for several miles round, and soon found that blocks of the size required could readily be obtained, and even larger ones if necessary. I accordingly selected, by way of experiment, a mass of solid rock about four miles to the south of Peterhead, lying within a quarter of a mile of the sea coast, and about 200 feet above the main turnpike road to Peterhead, which ran along the sea shore. This block, weighing about 25 tons, was accordingly marked out, and was soon detached from the main mass of rock by means of wedges, and was 10 feet long and 5 feet square. The workmen who executed this task were rewarded with ample wages and a good supply of whisky, and were extremely proud of their achievement. Then came the important question, how they were to convey it to Peterhead. To get it to the turnpike road was soon accomplished by means of a wooden inclined tramway formed of stout planks moved upon wooden rollers. Good wages and whisky settled this, and the workmen considered it a further great triumph; but still the greater difficulty remained, how to get this vast block (as it was then considered) four miles to Peterhead. I then went back to Peterhead, and after numerous inquiries, and as many failures and objections on all sides, at last found two large single bogies, each consisting of a pair of strong wheels 8 feet in diameter, connected by a strong axle shaft and a double pair of shafts in front. These two pairs of wheels I joined together at the axle shafts by two strong beams, cased with wrought iron, and strengthened the wheels and axles in other respects as far as necessary. I then took this carriage to the block of red granite already mentioned lying in the road, and slung the stone, by means of strong chains, to the two longitudinal bearers of the carriage. Some twelve or fourteen horses were then attached to the carriage, and off we departed in great triumph for Peterhead. The toll-keeper, never having seen such a mass of stone before, did not know what to charge. However, having at length satisfied his demand, we proceeded onwards, and we had scarcely advanced a mile when we came to a soft piece of road, which yielded under the great weight of the stone, and the wheels stuck fast, buried about 9 inches in the ground. This accident created general dismay amongst the attendant workmen, and they began to consider the task hopeless. However, nothing daunted by this mischance, I soon rallied their courage, and with plenty of screw-jacks, wedges, and levers judiciously applied, we raised the wheels out of the ground, and placed strong wooden beams under them, forming a rough kind of railway, over which we dragged and pushed the carriage with its stone in safety, until we had passed the unsound part of the road. This operation detained us about a day. Everybody worked with the greatest ardour and goodwill, which was aided not a little by a plentiful supply of ale and whisky, and the men were determined, for the honour of Scotland, that they would not be beaten. Having overcome this serious obstacle, we started again on our journey, and reached Peterhead about four hours afterwards, making the total length of the journey—four miles—a day and a half. The whole town of Peterhead, having never seen such a sight before, and having considered our task impracticable, turned out to see us, and welcomed us with the most enthusiastic acclamations.

The next thing to be done, having succeeded so far, was to get a vessel that would take this monstrous block of stone, as it was termed, to London; and although there were a considerable number of vessels in the harbour, I could not at first prevail upon any of the captains to take the charge. All sorts of objections were made, and amongst the rest, it was impossible to get the stone on board, and if they did, it would make a hole in the bottom, and the vessel would founder with all on board. At last, after a great deal of difficulty, I found a brig of about 200 tons burthen, the captain of which, after a good deal of persuasion, consented to take the block of stone to London, provided that I would put it on board at my own risk and expense, and indemnify him against all risk or loss on the voyage, which I accordingly agreed to do.

Then came the last important question, how was the block to be got on board? There was no crane in the port capable of lifting above 2 or 3 tons.

I immediately set to work to supply this deficiency by means of two sets of strong sheer-poles, capable of bearing 10 to 15 tons each. The vessel engaged was accordingly brought alongside the quay where the 4-ton crane was fixed, so that it should nearly plumb the centre of the hatchway of the vessel, which it was necessary to enlarge and strengthen considerably before it could receive the stone. I then secured the sheer-poles well at the top, and placed one set on each side of the crane, a short distance from the extremity of each end of the hatchway. The legs of the sheer-poles were firmly fixed in the bed of the harbour, striding over the vessel, so that they were perfectly independent of the vessel, and the top of each pole was directly over the centre of the hatchway. To the top of the sheer-poles I applied a pair of strong treble sheave-blocks, capable of receiving a thick rope; each block was worked by a double purchase crab or windlass manned by eight men each, besides four to work the crane, so that the block would be suspended at three points, the sheers taking the greatest weight. After a good deal of trouble I got the whole of this apparatus as complete as circumstances would permit, which were not the most favourable. From the quay a strong timber gangway was constructed over the hatchway, the outer end being supported, clear of the vessel, by piles driven into the bed of the harbour on each side, in order that the ship might be kept perfectly steady until the stone was placed within the hold, because otherwise the stone resting upon any part of the deck might have upset it. Everything being ready, the stone was brought alongside the vessel and the tackle of the crane and of the two pairs of sheer-poles was made fast to three sets of strong chains fastened round the stone, which was transferred upon rollers over the centre of the hatchway of the vessel, the purchases of the crane and sheer-poles being kept sufficiently tight so as to prevent any undue pressure upon the platform. The stone was then raised clear of the platform, when I heard a crack; in fact, one of the sheer-poles had bent and partially yielded; it was then blocked, and, the sheers having been first spliced with strong rope, the stone was again hoisted and swung clear of the platform, which was removed, and the stone was lowered into the hold of the vessel and properly secured without any further delay or accident. The whole of these operations were witnessed with intense interest by many of the inhabitants of Peterhead, and when so successfully completed the quays resounded with cheers. The gallant workmen who laboured so arduously and with such goodwill, and to whose exertions the success may be mainly attributed, were plenteously regaled, together with their friends, with all the good things which Peterhead afforded, in which the worthy inhabitants joined, and the remainder of the day was passed in mutual goodwill and festivity.

My readers will, I trust, excuse the detailed manner in which I have described these operations, which at the present day would be considered trifling to a degree, but, at the time above mentioned, more than half a century since, operations of this kind had not been attempted, and were entirely novel, and were considered extraordinary; they must, therefore, be viewed as the pioneer to the far greater operations of the kind which have followed. For now such stones are considered mere trifles, and blocks of almost any reasonable size can be quarried, polished, and transported to their destination, however distant, at comparatively much less cost and with greater facility. The cutting and polishing of granite at that time was accomplished at great expense, as it was done entirely by manual labour; now it is performed by means of machinery at greatly reduced cost, and polished granite of every kind is introduced into buildings, which was formerly considered impracticable; and thus the architect is provided with additional means of ornamenting his structures. It is true that many centuries before the Egyptians had shown the way; but then the whole power and resources of the nation had been devoted to this object, and incredible sums of money and great labour had been expended, regardless of the misery and oppression of the people. But in Great Britain it has been considered a true maxim of political economy, that every article should be produced at the least possible cost, and no work should be undertaken unless it would yield a fair profit for the capital expended; and whenever there is a reasonable prospect of obtaining this satisfactory result, any amount of capital which may be required is always forthcoming. Witness the vast sums which have been expended on railways alone, besides steam-vessels, manufactures, machinery, and other similar undertakings.

Whilst at Aberdeen and Peterhead, my father gave me an introduction to his old and intimate friend, the well-known James Ferguson, of Pitfour, the member for the county, and the intimate friend of Mr. Pitt. Mr. Ferguson possessed a large fortune; he was an old bachelor of the most amiable and charitable disposition, beloved by everybody and universally popular throughout the county. As illustrative of the manners of those days, I will simply mention that when I presented my father’s letter of introduction he received me most kindly, and invited me to spend a few days under his most hospitable roof, which I accepted, and on the first day there was assembled a large party of the most influential gentlemen of the county; as was usual wines of all kinds flowed in abundance, and universal hilarity prevailed. The consequence was that not long after dinner several of the guests fell off their chairs and took their nap under the table, from which after a short time they recovered and resumed their seats, and again set to work at their potations, which continued until long past midnight; by this time another considerable batch of guests were under the table, leaving their glasses full. I was so much amused at this unaccustomed scene, that, by way of frolic, I took the full glasses of some of the guests on the floor and poured them down their throats, which had no other effect than to make them sleep sounder. In this manner the evening passed merrily away, and it was late in the morning before the whole of the company found their way to their beds. The amiable host allowed everyone to do as he liked, and when he had had enough, which was not very soon, he retired to bed, leaving his guests to take care of themselves; in fact, Pitfour was “Liberty Hall,” and was open to all comers, the only limit being the amount of sleeping accommodation.

To give some idea of his hospitality, Mr. Ferguson seldom had less than thirty-six pipes of fine port wine in his cellars, besides claret, burgundy, sherry, champagne, brandy, and whisky, in proportion. He was so fond of Mr. Pitt, that it is believed that if Mr. Pitt had survived him, he intended to have made him heir to his estates, which were said to have been worth above 20,000l. a year.

When attending his duties in the House of Commons, he lodged in apartments in St. James’s Street, and after the parliamentary labours of the week were over, Mr. Pitt, the late Harry Dundas, First Lord Melville, and Mr. Ferguson used to retire to a country house at Wimbledon, and spend the Saturday, Sunday, and Monday in the greatest conviviality, until it was time to return to their parliamentary labours. Mr. Ferguson rarely, if ever, spoke in the House of Commons, but when he did, it was always to the purpose: his speeches, although exceedingly short, were replete with much common sense, accompanied by a terseness of wit, humour, and drollery, which convulsed his hearers with laughter, so that he was a general favourite. He used always to say that he had heard “mony a gude speech, but that he never changed his vote, he aye voted with Mr. Pitt.”

Having shown the good people of Peterhead how to get and ship the large blocks of red granite for the Southwark Bridge, and feeling that there would be no further difficulty about the matter, I returned to London, after an absence of two weeks, and resumed my duties at the Southwark Bridge. In the spring of 1814 my father, being desirous that I should be initiated into the practice of marine and trigonometrical surveying upon a large scale, sent me, under the direction of the late Mr. Francis Giles, who had then been appointed by Mr. Rennie to make an extensive survey of the different places where it was practicable to construct proper artificial harbours on the south-west coast of Scotland, such as Port Nessock, Ardwell, and Port Patrick bays, on the Scotch side of the channel, and Ballantrae, Donaghadee, Ballyhone, and Bangor bays, on the opposite coast of the Irish Channel, in order to decide which were the best places on either side of the channel to make permanent good artificial harbours for packets, for the purpose of establishing the best and most direct communication between the south-west coast of Scotland and the opposite coast of Ireland. In addition to making the surveys of the different ports above mentioned, it was absolutely necessary to make a correct chart of the channel within the above limits, comprehending a coast-line of about 30 miles on each side, including the Copeland Islands. It was also necessary to determine the exact distances between the different ports, together with the soundings, currents, rises of tide, prevailing winds, and all the other attendant hydraulic phenomena. This was a very extensive survey, and required great skill, judgment, and experience, and Mr. Giles was fully competent to undertake it.

As the shore, particularly on the Scotch side of the channel, was very precipitous, rugged, and mountainous, it was impossible to measure with anything like accuracy a base line from which a series of triangular observations could be made so as to connect the two coasts together; Mr. Griles was therefore obliged to resort to the Bay of Luce, situated about 10 miles to the east of Port Patrick; it had this disadvantage, however, that in consequence of the intervening mountains neither the Scotch nor Irish coast could be seen. But there was no alternative, for no other convenient place could be found to measure a base line. The head of the Bay of Luce, however, at low water consists of an extensive district of flat sand 6 miles long, admirably adapted for the purpose of measuring a correct base line. This plan was accordingly adopted, and a base was measured 6 miles in length, first by the common chain, then by another chain consisting of steel links each 5 feet long, and lastly by well-seasoned deal rods each 10 feet long; these measurements were repeated with great accuracy several times, and a mean was then struck by which the variation was reduced to a fraction of an inch. It should also be observed that the measurements were taken when the atmosphere was about the same temperature, so that the final measurement was reduced to as near accuracy as practicable. Having established the base, strong vertical staffs with flags at their summits were then accurately fixed upon the summits of the neighbouring mountains which overlooked the Irish Channel, and from which on a clear day the opposite coast of Ireland could be distinctly seen. From each end of the base the above-mentioned angles were taken with one of Troughton’s best 7-inch theodolites, between the different mountain stations, and the distance between the extreme points of these stations was accurately calculated, so that it gave a base line of about 30 miles along the Scotch coast, from whence correct sights were taken on flagstaffs fixed on the high land above Bangor, Donaghadee, and Ballantrae, including the Copeland Islands on the opposite coast of Ireland. These observations being taken on different levels, were subsequently reduced to the same plane, so that the exact distance was obtained between the different stations on each side of the channel, and a correct chart was made. In addition to the general survey, detailed hydraulic charts were made of the places on each coast which were best adapted for making harbours of the size required, viz. Port Nessock, Ardwell, and Port Patrick, on the Scotch side, and Bangor, Ballyhone, Donaghadee, and Ballantrae, on the Irish side of the channel; and as there was a great variety of interests concerned, each proprietor being desirous of having the permanent ports established on his own property, it was finally decided by the Government, at the recommendation of my father, that the whole of the surveys should be submitted to the arbitration of the Trinity Board, to select one port on each side of the channel which was best adapted for establishing a communication by packets between the two countries for letters and passengers in the most expeditious, convenient, and effective manner. The Trinity Board, after having given the subject their most mature consideration, ultimately decided on Port Patrick on the Scotch, and Donaghadee on the Irish side. This decision was approved of by the Government, and Mr. Rennie was desired by them to prepare designs for harbours in both of the above places; he did so, and the Government ordered them to be carried into effect under his direction: for a more particular description the reader is referred to my work on British and Foreign Harbours. During the progress of these surveys I learned a great deal in this important department of civil engineering, and personally surveyed the bay of Port Nessock and the Copeland Islands, which gave me an excellent lesson, as, on account of the rugged nature of the coasts, they were attended with considerable difficulties.

As already observed, in the following year, 1815, I was placed under Mr. Giles’ direction during the whole period of the survey of the river Tyne, which had been entrusted to him by my father also. In the same year I was under Mr. Giles during the surveys for the Barnard Castle, and Stockton and Darlington railways and canal; and I subsequently made a hydraulic survey of the port of Blythe for my father, and for which he afterwards made a design for its improvement. I had been previously employed under Mr. Giles in the surveys for the eastern extension of the Kennet and Avon Canal. During a part of this time our head quarters were at Windsor; and one Sunday afternoon I recollect very well attending the promenade on the terrace at Windsor Castle when His Majesty King George the Third, accompanied by the Queen and Royal Family, made their appearance with their attendants and joined the promenade, and were received in the most loyal and affectionate yet respectful manner. I also about the same time assisted Mr. Giles in the survey of the Thames in the vicinity of Woolwich Dockyard, the accumulation of the mud in front of which was so great at that time that it threatened to render that dockyard useless. The evil to a certain extent has since been remedied by removing a number of the projections which interfered with the currents of the ebb and flood tide, according to the plan laid down by the late Mr. Rennie, although, as he clearly pointed out, it would be impossible to improve the river to such an extent in front of Woolwich and Deptford dockyards as to render them fit for the construction and accommodation of large vessels of war; and therefore he recommended that they should be abandoned and sold, and that a proper establishment should be made at Northfleet capable of accommodating at all times of tide any number of the largest vessels of war at that time in the navy, or that might be built hereafter. This dockyard was intended to be so arranged that all classes of vessels of war could be built there; and it would contain establishments for manufacturing cordage, sails, anchors, guns, smith work of every kind, together with depôts of provisions, and stores of all sorts, all of which were to be arranged in such a manner that each operation of building, repairing, storing, and fitting out for sea should be completed in the order required; so that a vessel, after having been built, might be transferred at once into a dry dock to be coppered, then take in her masts, ballast, rigging, sails, stores, provisions, guns, boats, and seamen, and sail at once complete to her station from the centre dock-gates; in the same manner, when returning from her station, she might be repaired and fitted out again ready for sea. The saving effected by such an establishment would have been immense, and the service would have been performed in a far more expeditious and effective manner. Mr. Pitt was then Prime Minister, and his master mind at once acknowledged the advantages of such an establishment; it was accordingly approved of by the Government, the land was bought, and it was ordered to be carried into effect, but the unfortunate death of that great minister and the change of Government effectually put a stop to all further proceedings in this direction. Since that time the old dockyards of Woolwich and Deptford, Sheerness and Chatham, have been improved and enlarged, at an expenditure as great as would have completed Mr. Rennie’s establishment at Northfleet, without half the efficiency or accommodation. The old useless dockyards of Woolwich and Deptford, which the late Lord Melville, when First Lord of the Admiralty, condemned and ordered to be sold, have been retained, and the increase of unnecessary expense has been enormous, whilst the evils complained of have not been remedied till quite lately.

Having by this time a considerable knowledge of surveying, practical and theoretical, in all its departments either on land or water, so that I could undertake either, my father deemed that I had learned sufficient, and directed me to return to my practical duties in the construction of the Southwark Bridge. As this was considered a work of great importance and difficulty I felt highly honoured by my father’s confidence, and devoted my energies to it with the greatest anxiety and with a determination to do everything in my power to make it successful. The difficulty of obtaining the large blocks of granite and other stone had been successfully overcome, and they arrived with great punctuality, and the masonry of the abutments and piers was successfully carried into effect as previously described. Then came the important question of erecting the cast-iron arches; each arch consisted of eight main ribs, and each rib consisted of thirteen pieces, the lower or main part of which formed the chord or arch upon which the whole of the superstructure was to be supported. These thirteen pieces were solid, 2½ inches thick in the mass and 3 inches thick at the bottom, and 2½ thick at the top, and formed so many radiating blocks, like arch-stones. At the end of every block there was a transverse frame extending from one side to the other through the whole width of the bridge; against each side of these frames the main ribs abutted and were nicely fitted to them, and in order to prevent them from moving laterally there were projecting dovetailed cheeks cast on the frame, and between these cheeks and the ends of the main ribs solid cast-iron wedges the whole depth of the main rib were fitted, then drawn home against the ends of the rib; by this means the ribs were kept firmly within their places, and as an additional precaution strong diagonal braces, having a strong feathering rib on each side, were inserted diagonally between the ribs from one end of the arch to the other, and secured to the ribs by projecting dovetailed cheeks on them, and wedges and bolts, so that these cast-iron arches were constructed in the same manner as a stone arch, being almost as it were a solid mass depending upon the equilibrium of the different pieces for its stability. The depth of the main rib of the centre arch at the crown is 6 feet and 8 feet at the piers, whilst the depth of the ribs of the side arches at the crown is 6 feet and 8 feet at the abutments. As these ribs with their attendant transverse frames and diagonal braces formed the main part of the arches upon which the whole of the superstructure depended, it was necessary that they should be extremely well put together and properly united to the piers and abutments. Contrary to the usual mode of constructing stone arches, they were commenced at the centre instead of the sides, a strong wooden centring supported upon tiers of piles having been previously constructed between the piers and abutments to support them whilst being put in their places. Each piece of each rib was carefully placed upon the centre, resting upon nicely-adjusted strong wooden double wedges, and connected together as they proceeded by the transverse frames and diagonal braces before mentioned. By this means the whole of the arches were constructed at the same time from the centre to the skewbacks or bearing parts of the piers and abutments; but in order to connect them properly with them it was necessary to devise a particular arrangement. For this purpose a transverse frame, similar to those already described for connecting the rib pieces together, was accurately imbedded and fitted to the skewbacks or bearing places on piers and abutments, resting on a bed of sheet lead, and the joints were filled in with melted lead also; this formed a solid and to a certain extent elastic bearing, upon which the main ribs were ultimately to rest.

At the ends of the arched rib-plates next to the piers and abutments there was another transverse frame plate of the same kind as those previously described, and fixed there in a similar manner; this brought the ends of the arches within 6 inches of the abutting or bearing plates fixed in the skewbacks or springing places of the piers and abutments.

Between the frame plates fitted on the skewbacks or masonry of the piers and abutments, and those fitted on the ends of the rib plates of each arch, solid cast-iron wedges, 9 feet long and 6 inches thick at the back, and 2 inches thick at the bottom, 9 inches wide, three being behind each rib, were accurately fitted by chipping and filing, so that it would slide down to within 12 inches of the bottom; when these wedges were all accurately adjusted at the same temperature to the same depth, they were simultaneously driven home by wooden rams to their full depth, so as to reach about an inch below the bottom of each rib; by this means the whole of the three arches were gradually brought to their bearing without being raised wholly from their centres. Matters were then allowed to remain in this state for a few days in order to give time for every part to come to its bearing and to ascertain whether there was any defect in any part.

After the minutest search in every part no defect could be discovered; the wedges between the centres and the under sides of the ribs were then gradually slackened until the whole of the arches came to their full bearing, and were removed entirely, leaving the arches perfectly free of support. During the whole of these operations, from first to last, which occupied about a week, not the slightest accident or fracture occurred; the total subsidence of the main arch barely exceeded 2½ inches, whilst the subsidence of the two side arches barely exceeded 2 inches, which had been allowed for in the construction.

In order to ascertain the effects of expansion and contraction of the arches by the variation of the temperature of the atmosphere, I constructed steel, brass, and wooden gauges, accurately divided into decimal parts of an inch, and erected them upon different parts of the centres, where the effects were most likely to be apparent, and I kept the register for several weeks, during the height of summer, autumn, winter, and spring. I found that the variation in the rise and fall of the crown of the arches, the abutments being fixed, was 1/10th of an inch for every 10° of temperature, so that, taking the extremes of temperature at London to be 10° below freezing point of Fahrenheit in winter, and 80° in summer; the utmost rise and fall of the arches may be taken at 7/10ths, or at most one inch; but as any variation in the temperature, unless continued for some time, has no sensible effect upon such a large mass of iron, so, in our variable climate, the rise and fall of the crowns of the arches may be taken upon the average somewhat below the amount above given.

After the arches had been brought to their bearing and had been relieved from the centres, the superstructural framework was carried up and firmly connected and bracketed together by diagonal ties and wedges; in doing this the ends of the superstructural frames were too tightly wedged to the masonry of the piers, without my knowledge, so that they would not allow the main ribs of the arches to play freely, and some of the masonry courses above the main ribs were slightly splintered and deranged; the wedges were then slackened, and some of them removed entirely, and thus the evil was immediately remedied; the whole structure has ever since remained in a perfect state.

The bridges and approaches were finally completed and opened to the public traffic in March, 1819, the ceremony being performed by Sir John Jackson, the chairman, the directors, and a few friends.

In the month of August, 1818, having worked very hard, I may say almost night and day, for some time, I was nearly worn out, and was permitted to have a short holiday. I therefore determined to go to Belgium and visit the celebrated field of Waterloo, which closed the long and eventful revolutionary war, and attracted the admiration and interest of the whole civilized world. I accordingly started for Dover, in company with my old friend, the late Mr. Joseph Gwilt, architect, and crossed over to Calais.

On landing we repaired to Dessin’s hotel, at that time one of the best in Europe, and rendered famous by Sterne, whose rooms are still shown as one of the most interesting curiosities (to Englishmen at least) of the place. Here we passed the remainder of the day very agreeably. Everything was new to us—the people, their language, their manners, their mode of living. We had been so long considering the French as our deadly foes that we could hardly believe ourselves to be at peace with them, and to be actually in France and so civilly treated by them. Then the living was so good and cheap, compared to that of England; champagne, which with us was considered the greatest luxury, and only within reach of the highest and most wealthy, was here obtainable for four francs a bottle, whilst in England it was twenty-four, and almost everything in the same proportion. In the town of Calais there is nothing to see. The harbour is but indifferent, and almost dry at low water, and is chiefly maintained open by sluicing and dredging. On such a flat, sandy shore, with the prevailing winds and currents always driving on and accumulating the sands, it is very difficult to make and maintain a good harbour; still I think that a great deal more might be effected by pursuing a different course, and having a proper system of open piers and breakwaters on the outside. After breakfast on the following day we started in a travelling calèche, with two horses, for St. Omer, about 26 miles distant. On our way we stopped to examine the celebrated quadrangular bridge, called the Pont Sans Pareille, across the junction of the two canals of Picardy. This is certainly a meritorious, well-executed work, but the idea is by no means new, as the Gothic triangular bridge of Crowland, in Lincolnshire, across the junction of the Welland, was executed many centuries previous to the Pont Sans Pareille, and is still extant in a perfect state. Near this bridge is the celebrated maiden fortress of Ardres, which is said to have never been taken. Here also, according to Froissart, was the Champs d’Or, or Field of the Cloth of Gold. Ardres is a poor, miserable little fortress, surrounded with earthworks and ditch, on a flat plain. In ancient times it might have been formidable, with their means of attack, but now it would be utterly defenceless. From Ardres we passed through St. Omer and Lille, and after visiting Tournay and Ghent we proceeded to the capital of Belgium, where we took up our quarters at the Hôtel de Flandre, in the highest and best part of the city. We were particularly struck with the magnificent Hôtel de Ville and its lofty spire; also the remarkable place or square in front of it, which, looking to its picturesque mediæval buildings and the remarkable historical events which have taken place there, renders it one of the most interesting in Europe. The fine old Gothic cathedral of St. Gudule, the museum, fine canals, &c., particularly attracted our attention.

On the next morning we started for the scene of the celebrated battle of Waterloo, which had occurred about two months previously. In this place, like every Englishman, I took the greatest possible interest, and pictured to myself the whole of that terrific and stirring scene as being enacted before me. Notwithstanding the lapse of time since which that battle had taken place considerable traces of it were still visible, particularly in the blood-stained walls and ruined, desolate, and half-consumed buildings of the keys of the position, Hougumont and La Haye Sainte, and the remnants of shakos, arms, and military clothing which strewed the field on all sides, and the fresh-made graves, where many thousand gallant fellows lay entombed. The whole field and neighbouring villages were crowded with guides to explain the different particulars of that memorable struggle, and to sell the numerous articles which they had raked up from the field of battle; we bought some of these as mementos, and wandered for hours over every part of this field of desolation, until we fancied that we had mastered every detail of the conflict, and were almost fit to take the command of an army ourselves. We then returned to Brussels, highly gratified and instructed by the excursion.

We left Brussels much pleased with that pretty little industrious capital, and proceeded to Malines, where the fine old cathedral and town rewarded us well during our short visit. From thence we journeyed on to Antwerp, where we stopped at the Grand Labourer, a celebrated old-fashioned hotel. This famous old city, the great emporium of the Belgian trade, interested me much, with its magnificent cathedral and other churches, its fine old Hôtel de Ville, and spacious quays and docks; the Scheldt is here a fine river. There was a good museum of Dutch and Flemish pictures, but the chef-d’œuvres of Rubens and Vandyke had not yet returned from Paris. I was much struck with the extent and strength of the fortifications; also with the costume of the natives, particularly that of the women, which still resembled a good deal that of their former masters, the Spaniards. At the time of our visit everything was in a depressed state. Its trade had not yet recovered from the effects of the great war, and its then silent streets contrasted greatly with their former activity. The Roman Catholic religious ceremonies were conducted with great magnificence, and struck us simple Protestants, who had never witnessed anything of the kind before, with considerable astonishment.

We left Antwerp for Ghent, and took our departure for Bruges in one of the trackschuyts or barges, by means of which the great bulk of the goods and passenger traffic of the kingdom was carried on. These canals are magnificent specimens of the kind, and, being upon a much greater scale than our own, particularly struck me with admiration. The canal was bounded on each side with spacious banks, and was of great width, with a towing path and carriage way for general traffic. These banks were bounded by rows of trees, which serve for shade; at the same time their clippings and timber yield a considerable amount of profit.

We reached Bruges about noon, and had just time to examine the fine cathedral and townhall, as well as the interesting town, its quaint old buildings, quays, mercantile warehouses, all in the architecture of the Middle Ages, during which Bruges attained its greatest prosperity. We left this interesting town in the afternoon by another trackschuyt for Ostend, about 12 miles distant, by a canal of the same dimensions as the one above described. Most of these canals being connected with each other, Brussels, Ghent, Malines, Louvain, and the other large towns, possessed a complete network of water communication with the ports of Antwerp and Ostend, and trade is carried on with the greatest facility.

We reached Ostend in the evening, and learned that a packet was about to sail for Margate, of which we determined to avail ourselves. We had, however, sufficient time to examine this indifferent port, the second in the kingdom, which, in addition to a badly-contrived entrance by two guide piers, has two small docks. It is a mere tidal harbour, with an awkward bar at the entrance, and numerous shoals on the outside. The town possesses nothing remarkable; it was then garrisoned by English troops, and there was constant communication with England.

From this period I devoted my time almost exclusively to the Waterloo and Southwark bridges, but particularly to the latter, which was almost entirely under my direction, subject to the orders of my father. Besides the above works, I was a good deal employed in the drawing office in making drawings and estimates and calculations for a variety of new works upon which my father was engaged. I also occasionally visited the rolling and other machinery of the Royal Mint on Tower Hill, which my father at that time was constructing for the Government, and during the evenings I was employed in learning mathematics under Dr. Bradley and Dr. Firminger, and the Italian, French, and German languages, so that my time from morning to evening was fully employed. I must not omit to say that at this time I attended the lectures of the celebrated Sir Humphry Davy, the Professor of Chemistry at the Royal Institution, who at that day astonished the world by his wonderful discoveries.

The first, second, and third arches of the Waterloo Bridge being completed, Mr. Rennie determined to slacken the centres of the first arch, which was on the Surrey shore, where the bridge commenced. This was when the arches were entirely relieved from the centres, and the total subsiding of this arch was 2½ inches, which is nearly half an inch less than had been allowed; the centres were then removed from the first arch to the fourth arch, only three centres being employed. Each centre consisted of eight ribs, upon the truss principle, resting upon a compound system of wedges, supported upon struts placed upon the offsets of the piers and abutments; all the ribs were well connected together by transverse and diagonal ties, as well as the planking upon which the arch-stones rested. The trestles or bearers of the centre ribs, together with the wedges, having been first fixed in their places upon the offsets of the pier and abutment where the centre was to be fixed, four ribs of the centre were transferred, and fixed upon them in the following manner.

The ribs of the centre having been constructed upon a platform upon the shore near the bridge, a large barge or floating stage, capable of carrying four complete ribs, which weighed 40 tons each, was built to receive them. This floating stage was extremely strong, and transversely across the centre of it there were four strong stages at the same distance from each other as the ribs of the centre were intended to be when fixed in their position, to support the arches whilst building. These stages were supported by double transverse beams, resting upon powerful screws 15 inches diameter, in boxes resting upon the bottom of the vessel. Above each of these stages, yet securely attached to them, was a framework, to which the ribs of the centres were lashed whilst being transported to their places. When the centre ribs were finished and all was ready, the floating stage, at high water, was brought alongside the platform, upon which the ribs of the centre had been constructed, and were lying ready to be transferred to their places. Each rib was then raised by means of powerful sheer-poles, to which were double-purchase crabs, treble blocks, with all the necessary ropes, chains, and other tackle, by which means each rib of the centre was readily raised from the platform where it was built and transferred to its proper stage in the floating barge, and there secured in an upright position, when the ribs had been fixed in their places. The barge was then floated into the opening where the arch was to be constructed, which was generally done about half an hour before high water, so as to allow ample time to adjust and fix the ribs over the corresponding pair of wedges and trestles upon which it was ultimately to rest, which was done as the tide fell, and adjusted to the greatest nicety by the screws before mentioned; when the rib had been fixed in its place, the barge returned to bring another, which was served in the same manner as the first, and thus the fixing of one centre occupied only six days. This system answered most effectually, and was subsequently adopted by Mr. Robert Stephenson for fixing the great tubes for the Menai and Conway bridges.

The Waterloo Bridge, as well known, consists of nine equal semi-elliptical arches, 120 feet span each, with a rise of 34 feet 6 inches, the keystones at the crown being 4 feet 6 inches deep and 10 feet at the spring, and 18 inches thick at the soffit; inverted arches on each pier between the main arches 4 feet 6 inches deep. The piers were 20 feet wide, each having projecting buttresses, supported by two three-quarter Doric columnar pilasters, over each pier, the whole being surmounted by a Doric block cornice and balustrade parapet, level from end to end, the same as the roadway. The roadway above the piers was supported by six brick walls, 2 ft. 3 in. thick, covered with corbel stones. The shores being low on both sides of the river, the approaches are constructed so as to form an inclined plane rising 1 in 30 on the Surrey side, and nearly level on the north, or Middlesex side, with the Strand, upon a series of brick arches 16 feet wide each. These arches serve for storehouses. The roadway was formed by a layer of well-puddled clay 15 inches thick, then a layer of lime and of fine gravel 3 inches thick, then a layer of equally broken granite, in pieces 2 inches in diameter, 1 foot thick. Through the centre of the masonry of each pier a hole 18 inches in diameter was cut, entering the river on one side of the pier at low water, and from the top of this hole inside the pier cast-iron branch pipes of the same diameter were carried to side drains on each side of the roadway, so that all rain and surface water was effectually carried off into the river, thus preventing leakage.

The piers and abutments were founded in the solid bed of the river, which is strong gravel; they rest upon a wooden platform, supported upon piles 12 inches in diameter driven 20 feet into the bed of the river. The whole of the arches and exterior face of the bridge are built of Cornish granite, from the vicinity of Penryn, and the balustrade is made of fine grey Aberdeen granite.

The contract for the Cornish granite was taken by a very worthy man of the name of Gray, and the price was such as on so large a quantity ought to have enabled him to realize a very handsome profit; but he had no system or machinery adequate for the purpose, and instead of opening quarries properly upon an enlarged scale in the solid rock, by which he would have saved a great deal, he chiefly confined his operations to the loose outlying blocks, which reduced his profits considerably, and in the end it is very doubtful whether he did more than cover his expenses. As the dressing of granite for masonry was entirely new at that time, nothing having been built of this material in London, it was extremely difficult to find masons who would undertake it, even at such enormous prices as 1s. 9d. to 2s. per cube foot, so that the contractors, Messrs. Jolliffe and Banks, could not afford to pay it. Workmen were therefore obtained from Aberdeen, and the price was ultimately reduced from 2s. to 1s.; notwithstanding, however, the prime cost of the stone, the freight, dressing, mortar, and setting complete in the bridge cost about 7s. 2d. to 7s. 3d., so that the total cost was near 7s. 6d. It should be observed, however, that at that time there was a duty of threepence per cubic foot (or ton?) on stone, which has since been taken off. The interior stone consisted of hard sandstone from Derbyshire and Yorkshire.

The bridge and approaches were completed and opened with great ceremony by George IV., then Prince Regent, on the 15th of June, 1817, in commemoration of the battle of Waterloo, after which it was especially named. Twenty-five pieces of artillery were placed on the centre of the bridge, which fired a salute as His Royal Highness, the directors of the Company, and a brilliant suite walked over in procession, when he christened it Waterloo Bridge, and declared it open to the public. His Royal Highness came by water in his state barge, accompanied by the Admiralty and other barges, in which were the ministers and suite; he landed at the stairs on the south-east side of the bridge, and walked over it from south to north; he embarked again on the north-east side, and returned to Whitehall and Carlton House. The sight was very brilliant, the weather magnificent, and everybody seemed to be satisfied.

The total cost of the bridge was 565,000l., which was 10,000l. more than estimated by Mr. Rennie; the approaches, besides the land and buildings, cost a further sum of 112,000l.; so that the total cost of the bridge and approaches was 677,000l., and the land and buildings and contingencies 373,000l., making a total of 1,050,000l. This is certainly a very large sum for a bridge and its approaches; but when its extent is considered, the bridge alone being a quarter of a mile long, and the approaches nearly three-quarters of a mile more, also the great cost of materials and labour of every kind, the stone-cutting costing from 4s. to 6s. a cubic foot in the rough state, timber from 7l. to 14l. per load, and labour in the same proportion (which is more than double the present price), we cannot be surprised at the total cost.

I still continued my duties at the Southwark Bridge, which was completed in March, 1819, and was opened without any ceremony by Sir John Jackson, the chairman of the Company, and the other directors.

CHAPTER II.

Travels in Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Asia Minor, Constantinople, and Egypt—Return to England—Death of Mr. Rennie.

I had now received a tolerably good education, both theoretical and practical, as a civil engineer; but before entering fully into practice on my own account, my father thought it advisable that I should travel for a time to study what had been done in ancient and modern times both in architecture and engineering. I accordingly left England on the 7th of June, 1819, in company with my cousin, Colonel, now General, Sir J. Aitchison, and the late Lord Hotham, his friend. We had a thirty-three hours’ passage from Brighton to Dieppe, during which time, having exhausted the captain’s store of bread and cheese, not very abundant, we were glad to fall back on a dozen mackerel, which Lord Hotham’s servant was fortunate enough to catch. We passed through France without much incident; but when the view from the summit of the Jura suddenly burst upon us, the magnificent scene made a most lasting impression upon my memory. The valley of the Rhone, the Lake of Geneva, backed by Mont Blanc and its splendid range of mountains, rose before us as if by magic; we were totally unprepared for it, could scarcely believe our senses, and stood enraptured for nearly half an hour. We then descended to Geneva, where we passed several days very agreeably, examining what was then the picturesque old town, with its clumsy, old-fashioned waterworks; for the improvement of these my father, through the well-known Dr. Marcet, had just made a design for the municipality, which was much approved of, and which I understand has since been partially carried into effect. I here made the acquaintance of General Dufour, so well known for his scientific acquirements, and after a few days went on an expedition to Chamounix, where, as no one then thought of ascending Mont Blanc, we climbed the Montanvert and the Mer de Glace, where I made some experiments with Leslie’s hygrometer. Having returned to Geneva, we started again on the 7th July for a more extended tour in the mountains, going by the lakes of Morat and Bienne, the scene of the great battle of 1476. I examined these two lakes, which were evidently rapidly filling up, but by lowering the outfalls a great part of the whole might be recovered, whereas at present the borders are to a great extent covered with reeds, and the marshes exhale unwholesome effluvia. After passing through Freibourg, where the bridge, then newly opened, was considered one of the wonders of Switzerland, and which, as a most remarkable work of its kind, I examined attentively, we passed on to Berne, and going through the mountains, returned to Geneva. On our way, being at Meyringen, and short of ready cash, we proposed either to return direct to Geneva, or to change one of Herries’ circular notes; but on offering one of these notes to the landlord, he at once said there was no occasion for it, as we were Englishmen, and that was enough. Having produced a large bag of five-franc pieces, he told us to help ourselves, and was with difficulty persuaded to take one of Herries’ notes in exchange. I merely mention this to show how high the name of Englishmen then stood on the Continent.

Leaving Geneva for Italy, we proceeded by the route of the Simplon, the construction of which I had promised to observe very attentively for my father. The first portion only presents, as objects of interest, the excavations through the rock of St. Gingough, near the upper end of the lake. From Martigny we started up the valley of the Rhone, where, though the ground is generally level, the road yet encounters considerable difficulties from the river, which here assumes the character of a torrent, and when swollen by floods sweeps almost everything before it; wandering from side to side it deposits the débris of the one side on the banks of the other, forming, we may say, alternately rapids and almost still pools, which renders it extremely difficult to confine its course within any reasonable limits; so that the art of the engineer is taxed to the uttermost. I thought that in many places the works were not designed with that solidity which is so necessary under such circumstances, and that sufficient precautions were not taken to arrest the progress of the débris. I considered that by providing depositories for it at certain favourable stations, the violence of the floods might have been considerably controlled, a much greater extent of land on both sides of the river rendered available for cultivation, and the extensive marshes, which, operated upon by a powerful sun, now produce most injurious exhalations, might have been deprived of their baneful influence.

Having passed Sion, we left Brieg early on the 10th of August, and as soon as we began the ascent I descended from the carriage, and with line and rule I measured every bridge until we reached Boveno, on the Lake Maggiore. I sent off from Milan, as I had promised, a detailed account of this celebrated road to my father, giving a drawing and account of every work, which I afterwards had the gratification of knowing afforded him great pleasure. The whole Pass must have at first sight been appalling to the engineers who traced the line of road; and although many other works of the kind of greater magnitude have been since executed, nevertheless, all things considered, it is worthy the approbation of mankind, and does great credit both to those who designed and those who executed it.

We reached Milan[1] on the 12th of August, and I was much struck with the fine canal which unites it with Pavia, and which can only be compared with the canals of Belgium. It has been said that the first pound lock was invented and executed by the famous Leonardi da Vinci, but subsequent inquiries have induced me to believe that our own country is entitled to the honour in the Exeter ship canal. I was also greatly pleased with the system of irrigation employed generally throughout Lombardy. This system was originally introduced by the Italians themselves, and during the Austrian rule was carried to the greatest perfection, Lombardy being by nature peculiarly well adapted to it. The vast and fertile valley of the Po is for the most part destitute of rain during the summer, when it is most wanted; but it fortunately happens that at this season water is most abundant from the melting of the snows on the Alps, which descend into the adjacent lakes and rivers, and would be otherwise wasted and thrown away if not employed for fertilizing the land. The water, therefore, at this season is conducted by an elaborate system of artificial canals, and distributed over the adjacent lands according to their respective levels, at a certain price, varying with the quantity distributed. Thus the constant supply of water, the high temperature, and the fertility of the soil combined, produce the most abundant crops, and the plains of Lombardy are rendered the most productive and valuable in Europe; whereas in winter, when the temperature is lowest, the snow is congealed on the Alps, and comparatively little water comes down when it is least wanted.

From Milan we reached Verona, where the bridge, consisting principally of brick, with binding courses of marble, can boast of one of the largest brick arches in the world, an excellent example of what may be done with this material when properly handled. After passing Vicenza and Padua, we reached Venice early in September, 1819.

The extraordinary and at the same time most beautiful and novel appearance of the city, with numerous towers and spires, about which I had read and heard so much, and had so long wished to see, now stood before me, and its loveliness more than realized my most sanguine expectations. When I considered its origin, a few fishermen’s huts built upon the mud banks of the lagoon by men flying from the invasion of Attila, then the rise of the great republic whose wealth, conquests, and influence were destined hereafter to play such an important part in the world, and lastly the fallen and degraded state in which it then presented itself before me, I was lost in astonishment; I was for a while transported as it were in a dream, and could scarcely believe where I was.

The Grand Canal first attracted our notice,—perhaps there is no thoroughfare in the world lined with so many magnificent palaces,—and along which we passed until we came to the Rialto, a drawing of which I made and sent to my father. But if I was delighted, and I may almost say astonished, at the Grand Canal, I was still more so with the Place of St. Marc and its surrounding buildings, so varied in their architectural styles, yet each so picturesque and elegant in itself, and combined together forming at once the most interesting and beautiful scene of the kind in the world. It is one of those sights, at least speaking for myself, that never satiates—the more I looked the more I admired it. As to the details of these different buildings which we saw, they are so much better described in the numerous guide books that it is unnecessary to repeat them here.

I visited every part of the lagoons, including the various islands, all of which are more or less deserving of notice, particularly the island of Murano, the seat of the celebrated glass manufactories; and also the Moravian establishment. But what really most interested me were the lagoons, and the means which must have been resorted to for keeping them open, notwithstanding the numerous causes which were and are constantly in operation to fill them up with the alluvial matter brought down from the mountains and plains by the various rivers and streams which discharge their waters into this portion of the Adriatic, also from the alluvium brought in from the adjacent shores, by the tide, which rises from 2 to 4 feet, and at times, during heavy gales from the southward, as much as 6 feet, overflowing the quays of St. Marc’s Place.

There was a long-continued discussion amongst the numerous distinguished mathematicians, engineers, and others who have written upon this subject, as to the best way of preventing the filling up of the harbour. Some contended that the only method of effecting this was to admit all the rivers into the lagoons freely; for although they might deposit a certain amount of alluvial matter, nevertheless the great quantity of water discharged would alone be sufficient to carry away this deposit. But they forgot that when the rivers met the sea the current would necessarily be checked and rendered powerless to carry forward any matter which might be held in suspension, and that consequently the detritus would be deposited and form banks and shoals which the waters could not remove; thus in time the lagoons would be filled up, grass marshes would be formed, the city of Venice would be united to the mainland, and the harbour would be destroyed. On the other hand, it was argued, for the reasons above mentioned, that the only way to preserve the lagoons and the port of Venice was to exclude the rivers when densely charged with alluvial matter, and only to admit their waters at certain times, when they were comparatively clear; thus all the advantage would be obtained from the scour of these rivers, without the disadvantage arising from their deposits. Ultimately the arguments of the latter prevailed, the rivers were excluded from the lagoons by making a capacious canal all around them with sluices at their mouths, by means of which the waters were discharged into the lagoons when they were tolerably clear of alluvial matter; the surplus waters were discharged into the adjacent sea clear of the lagoons, and any alluvial matter which was brought in from the sea was removed by dredging from the main channels of the lagoons, so that they were in a fit state to admit the tidal waters and thus to keep the lagoons open.

But there was another important agent to be provided against, namely, the alluvial matter brought in by the winds, waves, and currents from the scouring of the adjacent shores of the Adriatic; this is done to a certain extent by dredging. Originally these banks contributed materially to the formation of the outer banks, which protect the lagoon on the sea side. If these banks were broken through or completely swept away, which the storms of the Adriatic frequently threatened to do, the lagoon, and with it the port, would be seriously injured or totally destroyed. This was remedied by defending this outer barrier bank of the lagoon by facing it with stone, and where the sea was most violent by constructing a solid breakwater of stone, and protecting it further by stone filters carried out a sufficient distance into the sea in order to divert the current, and to enable the alluvial matter to be deposited between them so as to form an additional protection to the main breakwater; this was accordingly done, and thus an extraordinary work at great expense has been constructed between Lido and Malamocco, the principal entrances from the sea to the lagoon, for a length of four miles, where the effects of the sea are greatest.

Malamocco is the principal entrance for large vessels, and the channel from thence to Venice has been deepened, chiefly by dredging, to the extent of 24 feet at low water. Lido, which is the next chief entrance and the nearest to Venice, being about 1½ mile distant from it, serves for the general class of merchant vessels. The other entrances of Foggia, Tre Porte, and the Piave, are seldom used except for fishing vessels, and it is not necessary to do more to these than to keep them in their present state, that is, to prevent deterioration, as it is an object of importance to allow the great mass of water by which the lagoon is chiefly preserved to pass in and out of the main entrances, Malamocco and Lido. Upon the whole it appears to me that this latter plan is the wisest that could be adopted, and the result has proved that it has been so far successful, although attended with considerable expense. It is in fact a choice of two evils, and the least has been chosen. It is, I believe, admitted that the port of Venice is now capable of receiving as large, if not larger, vessels than she ever received before; for it should be recollected that in the most flourishing times of Venice there were no ships drawing 23 or 24 feet, and vessels of this size can now enter and depart at all times. Hence Venice has been converted into a port fit for modern requirements; but it must always be borne in mind that so strong are the natural obstacles against its maintenance that nothing can preserve it in its present condition but the most constant vigilance and care. Fortunately the method of dredging by steam has been introduced, and this may be done to any extent, at a comparatively moderate cost, but it can only be compensated for when there is a sufficient amount of trade to pay for it. Still, in whatever way we may consider the question, it must be admitted that the port of Venice has been preserved in a most extraordinary manner during so many centuries, notwithstanding the natural obstacles against it; and now that it has been connected with the kingdom of Italy, there is no further drawback to its full development, and it only requires self-reliance and energy to render it what it once was, one, if not the most important, of the commercial cities of Italy.

At Bologna we had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the celebrated linguist Mezzofanti, whose modest and simple manner, accompanied by his extraordinary acquirements, quite enchanted us. The singular fact is that at the time of our meeting him he had never been out of the province of Bologna, and yet he had acquired the knowledge of twenty-four languages, and, as far as our limited acquaintance went, he spoke the English, German, French, Greek and Latin tongues perfectly; and those conversant with the Oriental languages informed us that he spoke them equally well. He appeared to be completely absorbed in languages, and was scarcely acquainted with any other branches of knowledge; still his wonderful mastery of this branch of study was a great acquirement, and must have required vast powers of memory as well as indefatigable study.

From thence we passed through Ravenna to Ancona, the position of which is good, occupying as it does a salient point of the coast. The water is deep and there is a commanding height for a citadel. The Roman emperors resolved to take advantage of the situation, and built a town here, the place being well adapted for a seaport. They accordingly made a mole on the south side to protect the harbour against the most dangerous winds, namely, those blowing from the south; they commenced the work from the shore by throwing down large blocks of rough stone, which were obtained from the rocks in the vicinity, in order to form a base for the superstructure; these blocks of stone were deposited promiscuously in the sea and left to the action of the waves, which in a comparatively short time consolidated them until they formed a mass that at length became immovable, always adding more stone as required until the whole became solid; this foundation was carried up to the level of low-water mark. They then commenced the superstructure of masonry, of squared stone and brickwork cemented together by pozzolana or hydraulic mortar, which was best adapted to make the work permanent. The inside or quay wall was formed by first placing a close framework of timber in front and at the angle or slope at which the quay wall was to be formed. They then threw down a mass of pozzolana, lime, and small rubble stone, mixed together, between the wooden frames and the rubble stone which had been previously deposited to form the base of the mole. This in a comparatively short time become solid, as the mixture of pozzolana, lime, and stone possesses the quality of setting under water. When it had become sufficiently solid, the timber frame was removed and transferred to another section to form a continuation of the quay wall, and thus the whole line of inner quay wall which formed the roadway was made by backing the quay wall to its full height with rubble, and a parapet of masonry was erected on the outside; this superstructure, although rough, stood very well with occasional repairs. In this manner the mole was carried out to a great extent. A fine triumphal arch was erected at the end to commemorate the completion of the work.

It is singular that the same emperor should have constructed a like work in a similar situation and in the same manner at Civita Vecchia, on the opposite coast of Italy, after every attempt had been made to establish a port by his predecessors at Ostia, which was built at extraordinary expense, and has been filled up by the alluvial matter brought down by the Tiber and from the sea by the littoral currents, so that it is now three miles from the sea.

The principle of construction used in these works resembles a good deal the mode adopted by the Phœnicians at Tyre, and subsequently by the Carthaginians at Carthage, and by the moderns. The Romans also employed the hollow mole, that is, a mole constructed with arches, by means of which the current charged with alluvial matter was enabled to pass through the mole, and thus any deposit within or without the mole was to a great extent prevented. The harbour of Civita Vecchia remains serviceable at the present day for vessels drawing 20 feet of water, although, as may be naturally expected, a certain deposit has taken place during the lapse of so many centuries which requires to be dredged out occasionally. At Ancona only one pier was built on the south side, and consequently an eddy and stagnation took place on the north side, as the littoral current runs from south to north, and therefore there is a tendency to deposit on the north side. The French when masters of Italy commenced another mole on the north side, thus enclosing a considerable space of sea so as to form a close harbour, which no doubt is of great service; still, from the nature of the local circumstances, a certain deposit may always be expected. This, however, can be removed by dredging, and the harbour may always be preserved in a state of efficiency if the extent of trade will warrant the expenditure necessary for the purpose.

On reaching Rome, it is difficult to express the emotions I felt on a first sight of the Holy City, surrounded by the desolate Campagna, the Tiber rolling in front, the Castle of St. Angelo, and the numerous towers of churches rising out of the mass of houses, crowned by the gorgeous dome of St. Peter’s elevated in proud majesty above the whole, backed by the magnificent views of the ancient city, once the mistress of the world.

This most interesting, I may say, most thrilling, sight lay before me in all its solemn majesty. When I considered that it rose from a few insignificant shepherds’ hovels to imperial splendour, then became the prey of the barbarian hordes of the north, and lastly, the throne of the Catholic Christian world, I was awed by the wonderful decrees of Providence, and at the instability of all human grandeur. I lay restless all night; I could scarcely realize the fact that I was actually in this wonderful, all-absorbing city, to visit which from my childhood had been one of the greatest objects of my ambition. It would be vain to attempt to describe in detail its numerous splendid buildings, both ancient and modern, its museums, and its countless treasures of priceless art. I will merely remark that there is no city in the world more worthy of a visit than Rome, or where greater gratification and instruction can be derived; for example, the aqueducts and the Cloaca Maxima show how thoroughly the Romans understood the importance of sewerage and good water for the preservation of human life, an importance that is only now beginning to be recognized in England, while there still remains very much to be accomplished.

My friend Colonel Aitchison was obliged to hasten his departure. I then took lodgings in the Piazza de Spagna, and devoted myself to the study of the Italian language, architecture, and drawing, and in my leisure moments entered into society; and fortunately at that time there were assembled there some of the most distinguished characters in science, literature, and art, besides diplomatists and leaders of fashion, from the various capitals of Europe. Amongst the first may be mentioned the celebrated chemist and philosopher, Sir Humphry Davy, and his talented wife, under whose hospitable roof I passed many happy days, and at the same time received much valuable instruction. I made acquaintance with the Marchese Martinette, the scientific engineer, who at that time devised the extensive hydraulic works for the improvement of the rivers and drainage of the marsh-land districts of Bologna and Ferrara, from whom I derived much information. I also met the well-known antiquary, Sir W. Gell, who to his interesting memoir of Greece afterwards added much towards explaining the antiquities of Rome, and in his agreeable society I spent many a pleasant day. Dodwell too had just returned from Greece; and I made the acquaintance of that prince of sculptors, Canova, to whom my father had given me a letter of introduction. I frequently went to his studio, where he always received me with the greatest kindness. He was then at work on the model of his famous dying Madeleine, which struck me as a masterpiece of elegance and beauty, combined with the resignation and piety which so pre-eminently distinguishes it as a beautiful specimen of art. Nobody could be more kind, amiable, and modest in his manner than that distinguished sculptor. Flattered by emperors, kings, and the great and cultivated of every land, he never for a moment forgot himself or appeared to be elated, or to be put out of his ordinary simple, unobtrusive manner; whilst to his brother artists he was equally kind and familiar; to his inferiors he was always gentle and considerate, giving his humbler fellow-workers every encouragement and advice, cheering them on their way, and not unfrequently assisting them with his purse when their necessities required it. He was devoted to his art, of which he was so eminent a professor, and with it combined all those amiable and charitable feelings which rendered him an universal favourite and a benefactor to mankind.

I made acquaintance also with the great Dane, Thorwaldsen, who frequently admitted me to his studio. He was totally different from Canova. His square, massive head, covered with a redundance of flowing locks; his finely-developed countenance, beaming with talent and firmness of purpose; his colossal and well-proportioned figure, and erect and commanding gait, all combined to raise in the mind of the spectator a degree of respect and admiration not usually to be met with. Yet with all this apparent sternness there was combined a happy mixture of gentleness, genial sociability, and good-nature, which, after a little acquaintance, soon made you feel at home with him; and the more you knew him the more you liked him. He was then at work upon the colossal figures of the Twelve Apostles, for the church at Copenhagen, a commission given to him by the King. Several of these were finished, and magnificent specimens of art they were. I have since seen them in their places, and have looked at them with increased admiration. His Triumph of Alexander had just then been completed, and a finer specimen of bas-relief it is impossible to see. It is singular that with all this nobleness of character, and being withal a perfect master in his art, this great man—for certainly he was so in his sphere—should have looked upon Canova as his rival, and disliked him with a dislike almost amounting to hatred, whereas the gentle Canova had no such feeling towards Thorwaldsen.

Their styles, moreover, were so totally different from each other, that there could be no reason for jealousy between them. Canova excelled in the female form, where nothing but elegance, gentleness, and grace are required, although he by no means failed in the male figure; whereas Thorwaldsen excelled in that of the male, where force, manliness, and dignity are mainly requisite. Both were at the head of their profession in their respective styles, and both have left behind them numerous masterpieces of art, which have never been surpassed in ancient or modern times.

In addition to these celebrities, there were Lawrence, Chantrey, and Turner, all engaged in their respective walks of art. These I had known in England, and I received much kindness and instruction from them, and enjoyed the greatest pleasure in their delightful society.

Numerous great houses were at that time open for the reception of all the celebrities of Roman and foreign society, to which I had access. Amongst many others may be mentioned those of the beautiful Princess Borghese, the Duchess of Devonshire, and Lord William Bentinck. At the house of the Duchess of Devonshire I was introduced to the polished courtier and priest, Cardinal Gonsalvi, at that time Minister of Foreign Affairs to the Pope, whose graceful manners and elegant language, combined with a vast fund of information, enchanted everybody. I also met Thomas Moore, who enraptured the whole audience by singing his fresh melodies, with a degree of pathos, taste, and feeling which was peculiarly his own. Neither must I forget Lady Morgan, whose lively and constant prattle afforded much amusement, not altogether destitute of information.

At the hospitable house of Lord and Lady William Bentinck I saw the élite of English society, where I was frequently a welcome guest. Amongst others, appeared the beautiful Miss Canning, afterwards the Marchioness Clanricarde, and the silent, amiable, and unfortunate Lord William Russell, who afterwards fell a victim to his servant, the assassin Courvoisier.

To enumerate all the agreeable and talented persons of whom I had the honour of making the acquaintance at Rome would be foreign to my purpose, and out of place here. Suffice it to say, that the winter of 1819, which I passed at Rome, was one of the most agreeable and instructive of my life, and will ever be remembered by me with the most lively feelings of satisfaction. Before leaving I had the honour of being presented to the benevolent Pius VII., and was much captivated with his kind and unostentatious reception. After witnessing the Church ceremonies of Christmas, I left Rome just before the Carnival. I passed through Castel Gandolfo, and afterwards came upon the Pontine Marshes.

The Pontine Marshes consist of a low tract of land, extending from the elevated ridge of Castel Gandolfo to a spur of the Apennines, which approach the Mediterranean near Velletri, being a length of about 20 miles, whilst on the east they are bordered by the Apennines, from whence numerous streams and torrents descend into the marshes; and on the west, or sea side, they are bounded by a line of sandbanks, or dunes, thrown up by the waves and storms from the west; so that they form, as it were, a basin into which all the waters flow, without a natural outfall through which they can escape. To attempt to make a direct outfall to the sea was perfectly practicable, but there was no rise of tide, so that though the outfall would be considerably improved, there would yet remain the difficulty of keeping it open, in consequence of the constant influx of the sand. In similar, and indeed in all cases of this class, there are two points to be considered, namely, the water which comes from the highlands, and that which falls directly upon the lowlands. Now the former, coming from a higher level, and necessarily having greater velocity, will naturally descend to the lowest level, which is the marshes, and will force its way to the outfall before the lowland water; so that until the highland water is discharged, the lowland water, having less inclination, cannot escape, and as the outfall was extremely deficient, neither the highland nor lowland water could be discharged, and both combined accumulated upon the lowlands and flooded them. It therefore was evident that so long as this state of things remained it was impossible for the lowlands to be properly drained, as the outfall was deficient for the discharge of both waters when combined.

The only feasible mode of attaining the desired object was to separate them; then, at least, the lowlands could not be incommoded by the highland water, and would only have to discharge its own drainage. Thus, if a catchwater drain had been made along the base of the highlands, all that water might be discharged into the sea at any level required, for there is ample fall or inclination; and if another and separate outfall had been made for the discharge of the water falling upon the lowlands, although with much less fall, it might have been discharged, at least, to a great degree, if well embanked and of a proper size, because it would have been unobstructed by the highland water. But even supposing that any portion of the lowlands had been below the level of the outfall, this defect could easily have been remedied by pumping machines, worked either by wind, animal, or steam power, connected with main and subsidiary drains of proper capacity. This plan, which has been so effectively exemplified in the drainage of the great level of the Fens and elsewhere, was not adopted, but the whole of the waters, highland as well as lowland, were thrown into one drain and outfall, and thus before the highland water could be discharged, the lowland water stagnated upon the land. Until Mr. Rennie’s system is adopted, there never will be a perfect drainage; and the more imperfect the outfall, the greater is the necessity for adopting his system.

At Terracina we were terrified with the account of the brigands whom we should have to encounter in crossing the spur of the Apennines before we entered the kingdom of Naples. I here examined the old Roman port, consisting of two artificial piers of stone carried out from the shore, with the entrance pointing west. Both piers are long, and are well constructed of solid masonry, with a parapet and roadway; there being large mooring stones, with holes through their extremities, fixed solidly into the inner or quay walls of each pier. Upon the whole this is a substantial work, although, as the piers are curved, they are badly adapted for breaking the waves on the outside, and for preserving tranquillity within the harbour. The whole space within and without the piers was filled up with sand to within two feet of the quay walls. It is a common error, even at the present day, to make curved piers; the consequence is, that when the waves strike them they accumulate as they move forward, until at length they break with increased force and carry all before them. The same takes place with the waves entering the harbour, which produce such a degree of agitation within that vessels cannot lie in safety; whereas by making the piers in several straight arms the waves strike them on the outside, and they are broken, and neutralize each other at the angles.

I reached Naples through a road closely patrolled by soldiers, with blockhouses for ten or twelve men at very short intervals. Being bound for Greece, my time was very short, yet I managed to ascend Vesuvius and visit Herculaneum with Lord Guildford, as well as the Museo Borbonico as often as possible.

I examined the modern harbour of Naples, and I doubt if anything could be more badly designed. There are two small piers, the entrance between which is difficult; it is exposed to the prevalent and dangerous winds, and is scarcely safe inside. This is the more extraordinary, because the numerous remains of the ancient harbours of the Romans, dispersed throughout the bay, might have served as models for a port adapted for all the requirements of modern trade as well as for war vessels. The harbour must be improved before Naples can be provided with that accommodation which her increasing trade imperatively requires.

I started from Naples with several others on the 31st January, 1820, and after an alarm from a threatened attack by brigands on the summit of the pass of Baveno, from which we were rescued by the timely arrival of the Receiver-General of the province, on his official journey, accompanied by a numerous escort of dragoons. We reached Lecce, the capital of the province, on the evening of the 8th February, having been eleven days on the journey, a distance of about 300 miles, rather fatigued, but much pleased with this novel and interesting country, so seldom visited by travellers. I alighted at the best hotel in the place, which was but very indifferent, and the next day called upon General Church, the Governor of the province, and was most kindly received by him, he insisting upon my making his house my home. Here I again met with Lord Guildford, Lord William Russell, and Chevalier Bronsted, with whom I had previously made acquaintance at Rome. Lord Guildford was on his way to the Ionian Islands on official business, and Sir Thomas Maitland, the Governor, had ordered a vessel to be sent to Brindisi to convey his Lordship, who very civilly offered me and our two mutual friends a passage. As the vessel was not expected for several days, we in the meantime became the guests of General Church, and were most hospitably entertained by him. General Church was an extraordinary man. He was below the middle size, about the age of five-and-forty, extremely well built, spare, sinewy, and active, with a well-proportioned head, sharp piercing eyes, rather aquiline nose, and a closely-compressed mouth, denoting great firmness and resolution. He commanded a regiment of Albanians and Greeks, as an auxiliary corps in the British employment, during the great war, and in that position assisted the operations of the British cruisers on the coast of Italy; and hence he became subsequently attached to the army of Lord William Bentinck, after his conquest of Sicily. Church was a proficient in the Greek, Italian, and French languages, and, having considerable military talent, and being a great disciplinarian, soon brought the rough and savage elements of which his corps was composed into tolerable order, and rendered them of considerable service in the wild warfare in which they were engaged. At the conclusion of the war he retired on half pay to Naples, where, being well known to the Government, he was made Governor of the province of Otranto, at that time overrun with brigands. Church was appointed to the command with unlimited control, and by his vigorous and energetic conduct soon spread terror and dismay amongst them; he was here, there, and everywhere; when they least expected, he came upon them suddenly, dispersed them, and destroyed the leaders without mercy. He had many narrow escapes himself from sharing the same fate. Once it is related that he and his aide-de-camp, Captain Kusini, entered unknowingly a small town, of which one of the most able and daring brigand chiefs, with a powerful band of followers, was in possession. Church, when he found this, determined to make the best of it, being perfectly aware of his danger. He entered the chief inn and sent for the landlord, who recognized him at once, and asked him if he knew that the brigand chief and his followers were actually in the town. “Yes,” replied Church, with imperturbable coolness, “I am come expressly to meet him; tell him that I want to see him immediately.” The brigand chief accordingly came, astonished to see the General, whom he least expected; he began to be alarmed, thinking he was surrounded. The General, addressing the brigand by name, informed him that there was no chance of his escape, but that if he and his followers would surrender, he would pardon them and get them employed in the King’s army. The brigand chief and his men declined this generous offer. Church then told him that he was sorry, for their own sakes, as in future they could expect no mercy. The brigand and his followers then withdrew, determined on their side to show no quarter to the troops if ever they should get them within their power; but for the moment, being ignorant of Church’s position, they were afraid to attack him, little supposing that he was at that time theirs. This extraordinary interview having terminated, Church felt that he had played the game far enough, and the sooner he and his aide-de-camp made their escape the better. The landlord, fortunately for them, kept the secret. The General and his aide-de-camp escaped by the back of the house, climbed over some fences, reached their horses, and then galloped off, never pulling bridle until they had reached their own followers, who, when they heard what had passed, were astonished at their escape, which was due alone to the coolness and courage of the General. Scarcely had Church and his aide-de-camp departed when the brigand and his followers learned how completely they had been deceived, and at once set off in pursuit; but they were soon obliged to retreat, being themselves pursued by a superior force, from which they narrowly escaped capture; the band was afterwards destroyed. This is but one out of the numerous instances of Church’s extraordinary adventures. In a short time he extirpated brigandism, the province regained its tranquillity, and the people pursued their several employments in peace without fear of molestation, blessing the General who had relieved them from their oppressors.

Being particularly desirous of seeing Brindisi, from my recollections of Horace, I obtained an escort of two dragoons from General Church, for, said he, “You may meet some unwelcome visitors on the way; but if they see the uniform of my dragoons they will not trouble you with their acquaintance.” Brindisi, which I need not now describe, struck me as being an excellent port on the whole, and now that it is made the terminus of the railway from Naples, which connects it with the entire railway system of Europe, it will no doubt become a place of considerable importance.

I embarked with Lord and Lady Guildford and others in a Government vessel, and reached Corfu on the 27th February. The day was fine, and we were much struck with the beauty of the surrounding sea and mountains, together with the view of the magnificent inlet forming the harbour of Corfu, comprising as it did the ancient and picturesque town on the bold outline of St. Salvador and the rich undulating fields. As this was the first time I had seen anything of Greece, I particularly remarked the handsome appearance of the population and their picturesque costume.

There was nothing worthy of notice in the town except the old fortifications, so that I determined to make my stay as short as possible and take the first conveyance for Zante, and from thence to the mainland of Greece. Corfu, having been under so many different governments, partook in some measure of the character of all—Turkish, Venetian, Russian, French, English, but the ruling feature was Greek and Albanian. Our Government, urged on by that amiable, excellent, and enthusiastic person, the late Lord Guildford, had determined to establish an university at Zante, to revive classical learning, and Lord Guildford was appointed Lord Rector. He was an excellent scholar and linguist, and a most good-natured person; he was anything but a man of the world, and little acquainted with the real character of the modern Greeks. Sir Thomas Maitland, the Lord Chief Commissioner and Governor of the islands, was a totally different character, and knew the Greeks well. He was a stern, uncompromising soldier, with great talent, courage, and firmness, joined to long experience in war, politics, and governing mankind in every part of the world; he was not to be deceived by plausible appearances; to use his own phrase, he would stand no humbug, and would make his commands obeyed, although he was a strict administrator of justice. He treated Lord Guildford’s plan with great ridicule. “They were clever and learned enough, but they had already a great deal to unlearn; the first thing was to make them honest and obedient to the law.” When Sir Thomas became Lord Chief Commissioner of the Ionian Islands, the population was in a most disorganized state; pillage, murder, and piracy, were very common, and the malefactors were triumphant, and defied the law. It therefore required a strong hand to keep them in order, and Sir Thomas was just the man to do it—which he did. Under his strict but just rule they soon became more manageable, as they found he would not be trifled with.

On the day after my arrival I left my card at the palace, and received an invitation to dine with him on the 2nd March. I had taken no letter of introduction to him, although he knew my father; but I had previously heard that he disliked nothing so much as letters of introduction, and seldom paid them any respect, even when coming from the highest quarters. I accordingly made my appearance at the palace punctually at the time appointed, and soon after a brilliant assemblage was collected, in full costume, all waiting for the Governor. He shortly after appeared in full uniform, covered with orders. He was a rather fine-looking man, about sixty-five, of the middle size, with a strong, square, well-built, well-proportioned, figure. His countenance and speech betrayed his Scotch origin; and his large bluish-grey eyes shaded by shaggy eyebrows, his well developed nose, and compressed mouth, evinced a decided strength of will. His speech was terse and blunt, but with a strange mixture of kindness and severity, and altogether he was evidently made to command and be respected. I kept in the background, but he came up to me, and in his dry Scotch manner said, “I suppose you are Mr. Rennie; and pray, sir, may I ask what brought you to this country?” “To study the antiquities of ancient Greece.” He at once replied, with a certain degree of vehemence, “A pack of nonsense; gang awa’ back to your worthy father in England, he will teach you more in two days than ye will learn here in all your life.” Then, shaking me very cordially by the hand, he said, “But I am very glad to see you, and if I can do anything for you I shall be very happy, for your gude father’s sake.” Dinner was then announced, and a capital dinner we had, Sir Thomas making himself very agreeable, and cracking his Scotch jokes right and left with a great deal of glee. I sat nearly at the bottom of the table, and immediately opposite to me was Colonel Napier, afterwards the celebrated Sir Charles Napier of Scinde. I was much struck with his countenance; his keen piercing eyes, his prominent aquiline nose, and his restless, quivering lips, marked him out as a man of great character. I said to myself, if opportunity offers, that man will much distinguish himself hereafter, and time has shown that I was not mistaken. Sir Thomas is reported to have said, “Napier is a great Radical, and a friend to liberty and equality; he has considerable talents, and I will give him an opportunity of showing himself, and I will wager that before six months are over there will be a petition to the House of Commons against him for tyranny and oppression of the people.” Sir Thomas was a true prophet; he made Colonel Napier Governor of the island of Cephalonia; a most troublesome set he had to deal with, and he was obliged to use harsh measures to bring them under control; true enough a petition was got up by the inhabitants of the island complaining of him for his severity and cruelty, and requesting the Government to remove him from his command. When Sir Thomas heard of this he laughed heartily, and said, to his staff, “Did not I tell you so? the Radicals, however much they may preach about liberty and equality, are always the greatest tyrants.” Sir Thomas was held in high respect at head-quarters, and whenever he went to England and asked for instructions at the Colonial Office, was told to write them for himself, as the Government had entire confidence in him.

I here made the acquaintance of Captain Smyth, of the Navy, and his amiable and accomplished wife. Captain Smyth was then employed in making a survey of the Ionian Islands for the British Government, which was afterwards published; and certainly for elaborateness of detail and completeness of execution it has seldom been surpassed. Every plate is ornamented with a view of the architectural remains of the most remarkable buildings in the district, and also views of the coast, which were drawn by Mrs. Smyth with great taste, beauty, and fidelity, and form an important feature in this great work. Captain (afterwards Admiral) Smyth was a man of considerable scientific acquirements; and after having been most actively employed in different parts of the world (always with distinction), he retired to Bedford, where he erected an observatory, and published his celebrated astronomical observations, which, in addition to his public service, entitle him to a high place among literary, scientific, and professional men. He was of a most amiable and jovial disposition, ever ready for fun and amusement whenever they did not interfere with his duties; he was, moreover, always ready to serve a friend, and was universally beloved and respected by his numerous acquaintance. For myself, I regarded him as a valuable and sincere friend, whose loss I afterwards most deeply regretted.

Count Lunzi, one of the Greek nobles, a most agreeable and talented young man, and a large proprietor on the island, who had travelled with us, invited me to his country house, and I set off with my friend the Chevalier Bronsted to pay him a visit on the following day, the 10th February. We started on horseback on a fine day, and after riding through a rich, level plain for about ten miles, we reached the volcanic pitch-wells, and on our return found Count Lunzi awaiting our arrival at his Villa Sarachina. He received us most cordially, and conducted us into the house, and we were introduced to his family, by whom we were most hospitably entertained. We then took a kind farewell of our host at 5 P.M., mounted our horses, and proceeded homewards. At first we rode along leisurely, and gradually quickened our pace; at last we got into a full gallop. My horse, which was little better than a pony, although a very handsome, strong, well-made animal, by this time became so excited that he fairly got the better of me, and proceeded at a furious rate, so that I lost all control over him. Away he went helter-skelter over land and water, driving all before him. In vain I attempted to stop him. At last, finding it useless, I let him have his way; and arriving at the bay of Zante, he made direct for the sea. I allowed him to proceed until he began to swim; then, finding he was in no disposition to return, I dismounted, and partly swam, partly waded ashore, where I awaited his return; he soon got tired of swimming, and came to land. I then caught him, and mounted, and returned to Zante. My friend Bronsted, who was completely distanced, joined me as I remounted, and we rode back together. As we entered the town I saw a number of soldiers looking on and laughing; I did not know why. But it appeared that this pony was noted throughout the place for his tricks, and they wondered how, after venturing upon his back (which I certainly should not have done if I had known his vicious character), I had come back safe and sound. However, I had punished him pretty well, and he became quieter afterwards. We had a hearty laugh at the adventure; and, being thoroughly drenched to the skin, I changed my clothes, and joined Sir Patrick Ross’s dinner-party, when again everybody laughed at me, and congratulated me upon my happy escape.

Before quitting this subject I cannot help saying a few words about my friend Bronsted, the Dane. He was a most excellent person, and a first-rate scholar and antiquary, well known for his researches. He had acquired some most valuable bronzes, being portions of helmets found at Cortona, of which he published an elaborate account. The figures and other ornaments are most elaborate in design and execution; in fact, they are masterpieces of art, and were afterwards bought by the British Museum (for a considerable sum), where, I believe, they still remain.

I made several other excursions to various parts of the island; amongst others, to the top of the mountain which forms the south-west promontory of the bay. The summit rises far above the Mediterranean, and the view from it is magnificent, commanding the whole of the beautiful island, which lies at its base like a rich garden, and some other islands and adjacent coasts.

The inhabitants are a good-looking, active, and industrious race, but, like their neighbours, inclined to be very turbulent, and require to be kept in order by the strong arm of the law.

While here, just at the equinox, we had, as usual, some very severe storms; and one night I was roused from my sleep with a violent shaking of the bed, which lasted several seconds. It was at the same time raining tremendously, and blowing very hard, accompanied by violent thunder and lightning. I jumped out of bed, not knowing what it was; the house trembled, and I thought it was coming down. The other inmates were also alarmed. After waiting anxiously for some time the storm abated. I went to bed again, and slept soundly until morning, and then inquired of the landlord the cause, when he informed me that it was the shock of an earthquake, which they frequently felt in the island; and on the following day we learned that the same earthquake had been most severely felt at the neighbouring island of Santa Maura, that many houses had been thrown down, and a number of the unfortunate inhabitants destroyed. I had frequently been told by persons who had lived in volcanic countries of the extraordinary sensation produced by earthquakes on the human frame, but until I had experienced it I never could appreciate its effects; certainly they are most remarkable; the whole nervous system is convulsed, and one fancies that the last hour has arrived, so that it takes some time before the system recovers its usual tone. I certainly should not wish to experience another shock, and was extremely happy to have escaped with nothing more than a shaking and a severe fright.

Having now spent fourteen days very agreeably, being most kindly entertained by the Governor, Sir Patrick Ross, the officers of the 75th, and others, and having seen enough of Zante, I was anxious to proceed on my journey, only waiting for a vessel to take me to Greece, when fortunately I heard that an English mercantile brig, commanded by Captain Burgess, a rough old Scotchman, was about to sail for Patras, so I at once took my leave of Sir Patrick Ross, his family, and all my other kind friends, packed up my baggage, embarked at 3 P.M. on the 23rd March, and bade adieu to Zante. After a pleasant passage, but rough accommodation, we arrived at the entrance to the Gulf of Corinth, and anchored in the roadstead about a mile from the shore. I paid my passage, landed, proceeded up to the town, called upon Mr. Green, the Consul, and soon found tolerably comfortable quarters in a Greek house, but the beds were sadly infested with bugs, which annoyed me much. Before leaving Zante, I ought to say that I here engaged a Greek, who had been well recommended to me. His name was Demetrius Papandriopolo. He was about thirty-five, of the middle size, sharp, active, sober, intelligent, and honest, and served me faithfully through the greater part of my journey, for above twelve months, until I returned to Malta on my way back to England. I found him a most valuable servant, and he rendered me the most essential services.

Patras was then a trading town of some importance, in fact, the principal one in the Morea, and it contained a considerable number of inhabitants, almost wholly Greeks, without including the Turkish garrison. It is situated on a hill about a quarter of a mile from the gulf of the same name, where there is a small rubble jetty for boats to land their goods, &c. The roadstead outside is safe and well protected. The town is surrounded by a rich, fertile plain, well cultivated with olives, vines, and currants. The entrance to the Gulf of Corinth is protected by two old castles, the distance between them being about a mile and a half; and three miles east is the modern town of Lepanto (it was formerly the ancient Naupactus), celebrated for the victory over the Turks by John of Austria; it contains 2000 souls; the surrounding views are very fine. The town was under the command of a Turkish Governor, and is situated upon the side of a hill rising to the east, encompassed by a rude wall and ditch, and crowned at the summit by a citadel, in which the Governor and the garrison resided. Besides the citadel there were no remarkable buildings of any kind: the streets were narrow and dirty. There were a few mosques interspersed here and there, whose graceful minarets, rising above the mass, gave the place a most picturesque appearance. The town contained numerous bazaars, where all the trade of the place was carried on, and the neighbourhood of the main street was filled with cafés, crowded with Greeks, Turks, Ionians, French, English, and various other nations, all smoking their long pipes, drinking coffee, sherbet, and various other liquors, apparently in great comfort. The Turk, as lord supreme, moved leisurely about with the most solemn dignity, having the greatest contempt for his neighbours, and every now and then, as a Christian passed by, he greeted him with a lofty scowl, as if he considered him unworthy of notice, uttering the simple word Giaour! and passed on without further ceremony. I frequently wandered amongst the bazaars, then to me a perfectly novel sight, and was much amused with the gravity and solemn dignity with which the Turks sat cross-legged behind their counters; if you asked for any of their wares, they quietly, with a monosyllable, ordered their assistant to show it to you, as if they considered it a favour. This was so different to what I had been accustomed to in the civil, well-bred shopkeepers in Europe, that I could not help laughing outright, which I soon found would not do, as it gave great offence.

One morning, whilst walking along the shore in front of the roadstead, whom should I stumble upon but my old friend Captain Smyth, who had come to Patras on a surveying expedition in one of the small auxiliary boats attached to his larger vessel, which lay at anchor in the roadstead. This auxiliary boat, although small, was fitted up with every convenience for the purpose, and adapted to enter shoal water, in order to complete the details of the survey. In this he was accompanied by one or two assistants, and a few men to work it, so that he could be absent from his ship for several days without inconvenience. Captain Smyth was delighted to see me, and asked me to dine with him on board his boat, and I agreed to, with great pleasure. I accordingly went there at the time appointed, and amongst the guests met Captain Hunter and his wife, and our worthy Consul (Mr. Green). We had a most cordial welcome and an excellent dinner, and afterwards passed a delightful evening. Towards sunset we adjourned to the beach in order to take ices, which we got from the town, and enjoy ourselves by smoking our cigars. Whilst we were thus happily seated, laughing and talking together, we were surrounded by numerous Greeks from the town, amongst whom were several Turkish soldiers, armed to the teeth, and carrying their long pipes, which they never abandoned for a moment. The jolly old Captain said, “Now I will astonish these fellows,” and immediately dispatched one of his officers for his seven-barrelled pistol, which was brought, and duly loaded. He then told his interpreter to inform the Turks that this was a pistol which he could discharge as many times as he liked without reloading. The Turks held up their hands in astonishment, exclaimed “In Shallah!” and with a scornful look at us, said such a thing was not possible. Smyth, however, at once rose from his seat, deliberately discharging his pistol one, two, three, four, five, and six times, to the utter amazement of the Turks, who could scarcely believe what they saw. He then, with the utmost coolness, asked whether they were convinced, to which they all replied, with the exclamation of “In Shallah!” perfectly so. Smyth then offered them coffee and ices, of which they readily partook, and, after a hearty salutation and shaking of hands, they returned to the town, saying what wonderful people these Ingleses are. This pistol resembled the modern Colt revolver, although differing in some particulars. Before leaving I visited the celebrated cypress tree, three miles to westward. Its base is about 40 feet in circumference, and it is 35 to 40 feet high, the upper part having been blown off during a gale. I also visited St. Andrea, where were the remains of the well and some fragments of sculpture.

I took leave of my excellent and talented friend, the Captain, and determined to start the next day, the 27th of March. Upon returning to my quarters at Patras, I was informed that there was a French gentleman of the name of Prevot, an artist, who was about proceeding to Athens to make a panoramic view of that city, and was desirous of knowing whether I would allow him to accompany me. Finding him a very agreeable person, and having been introduced by Mr. Green, and being glad of a companion upon my lonely and novel journey, I willingly consented to his joining me.

Having got all my baggage on board, attended by my servant Demetrius, we started early on the following morning, the 27th, at seven. The day was unfortunately very rough, with violent gusts of wind, heavy rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning; notwithstanding which we started on our journey, and when we got into the gulf there was a heavy swell (which threatened at times to overwhelm the boat and all in it), with baffling winds, which materially retarded our progress. We struggled on all day: at last our boatmen said that it was impossible to proceed farther; we therefore determined to run ashore, and finish our journey the next day. We accordingly did so, and landed in a small bay, the only safe one on the south side, near Vostizza, at about four o’clock in the afternoon, two hours before sunset. Then came the question, where were we to sleep? Vostizza was about one or two miles distant, and there were no means of transporting our baggage there; and to leave it in the boat was to expose it to being plundered, as the boatmen said they would not be responsible for it, in consequence of the numerous bad characters lurking about, pirates, robbers, &c. As there was no possibility of getting our things to Vostizza, and there were the remains of a convent (which had been ruined by an earthquake) close by on the shore, on a cliff about 50 feet above the gulf, I proposed at once that we should place our things there, and sleep, to which my companion, who was very tired and sick of the voyage, readily consented. We got the boatmen to land the things, and place them in the convent; but when we got there, to our great surprise and mortification, found that it was uninhabited and half in ruins. There was no alternative, however, as there was no other building near us; so we made the best of it, and prepared to pass the night there. We went upstairs, explored the ruined building all over, and at length we discovered one large room tolerably perfect, and capable of keeping out the rain. This we chose for our night’s quarters, placed the baggage in order, and then commenced to prepare our supper. Upon examining our provisions, such as we had, we found them considerably damaged by the wet and unfit for use. I then decided that Demetrius and myself should go to the bazaar of Vostizza, and purchase what we could get, whilst we left M. Prevot in charge in the convent; and I gave the boatmen some money on account to provide themselves for the night where they could: the boat, everything having been taken out, was firmly moored to the shore.

Demetrius and myself went to Vostizza, and returned to the convent just after dark, laden with a bag well furnished with wine and provisions, the best we could get, and immediately set about preparing our mattresses for beds, and lighting a good fire to cook the supper. Demetrius was a capital cook, and about nine o’clock had got ready an excellent repast. Having had scarcely anything all day, and being miserably wet and cold, after having washed, and dressed in dry things, with a roaring wood fire before us, we enjoyed our supper excessively, forgot all discomforts, and about eleven lay down upon our mattresses for the night. Before doing this, warned by what our boatmen told us of the insecurity of the place, we fastened the door of our room as well as we could with an English padlock, and placed our heavy baggage and the table against the door, examined the priming of our pistols, which were well loaded, and lay down to sleep. My mattress was placed immediately opposite to the door, Demetrius was in the other corner, and M. Prevot near the fireplace, with an understanding between us that if any noise occurred during the night we were not to leave our berths, for fear of mistaking each other for an enemy. We slept tolerably sound until about two o’clock in the morning, when I awoke and thought I heard the movement of footsteps on the landing outside our door. We had kept a light burning all night. I listened again attentively, and thought I heard voices outside, then something like a push against the door. I awakened my companions, and told them to be ready with pistols, but not to fire until we were attacked, and then if possible to keep our positions. I had scarcely done this when a violent attack was made against the door, which in a moment was burst in, the table, portmanteaus, &c., being hurled into the middle of the room; this was immediately followed by a rush of several armed men. I instantly fired into the midst of them, Demetrius seconded me by another shot, and I repeated mine. We then heard a shriek as if somebody was wounded, and the whole of our assailants precipitately beat a retreat, scampering down the stairs as rapidly as possible. I reloaded, and we jumped up, rushed to the stair-head, and were going to follow them, but upon second thoughts we considered it best to remain where we were. We then secured the door again and tried to sleep, but in vain; we therefore lay watching until daylight, when our boatmen called us, and we prepared to depart, rejoicing heartily at our lucky escape from being robbed and murdered, as we assuredly should have been if we had not been armed and defended ourselves so stoutly. Before leaving, we examined the landing and stairs, and discovered some traces of blood, so that some one must have been wounded. Our boatmen told us that we had a very narrow escape; they said that they would not have slept there, and indeed told us before that we had better not, as there were numerous pirates and rascals in the vicinity, who waylaid all travellers, and seldom allowed them to escape even with their lives.

Early in the morning, which was very fine after the storm, we set sail with a fair wind, and bid adieu to Vostizza, with a remembrance of its inhospitable shore not likely to be soon forgotten. We had a delightful voyage, and enjoyed the beautiful mountain scenery on both sides of the gulf with much satisfaction, and reached the custom-house of Corinth, three miles from the town, before the close of the day. We then discharged our boatmen, and finding no horses, were obliged to stop at this nasty, wretched place, and passed a most miserable night. Next morning, the 29th, having got horses, we started at eight and reached the caravanserai at Corinth at nine, and having breakfasted and dressed, called upon the Bey, who received us very civilly. We wandered about all day examining the place and its antiquities. I arose early in the morning, awakened by the Muezzin as he was calling the faithful to prayers from the galleries of the minarets attached to the mosques. I had not heard this at Patras, having slept too late, and therefore it appeared to me for the first time most novel and singular. I listened to it with peculiar interest, as the contrast was so different to our own, where this office is performed by bells. On the same day, after breakfast, I examined the town, a poor miserable place domineered over by the Turks, with no trade, and the wonder was how the people lived. There was nothing worthy of examination except the beautiful remains of the Temple of Venus, of the simple, severe, yet commanding Doric order. A few columns only were left, surmounted by the cornice and entablature; these have been so often measured and engraved, that it is unnecessary to say more about them here, except that they are eminently beautiful, and an excellent specimen of that bold and expressive style of architecture. I was anxious to mount the Acropolis, crowned by an old fort and garrisoned by Turks, but this was not permitted: I regretted it much, for, seated as it is on a commanding eminence, eighteen hundred feet above the level of the adjoining gulf, the view over the sea and the fine mountainous surrounding country must be magnificent; but the Turks in those days were so proud, insolent, and domineering, that the sight of a Christian was an abhorrence to them, and one was glad to get out of their way, although even then they had considerable respect for the English, more indeed than any other nation; for we had saved them from the French and had protected them against the encroachment of the Russians, who had already begun to be very troublesome. Having nothing further to see, we were anxious to get away as early as possible.

There were two routes to Athens, to which we were destined, one entirely by land over the isthmus, the other by sea, after crossing the six miles of isthmus which separates the Corinthian Gulf from the Ægean Sea. We determined therefore to take the latter, and on the 30th March, having engaged the necessary number of horses, and loaded them after a considerable wrangling and noise with their keepers, started at 1 P.M. for Recrees Ceneres, on the borders of the Ægean Sea. At 3 P.M., in crossing the isthmus, we came upon the remains of the wall said to have been built by the Venetians for preventing the incursions of the Turks into the Morea. Here we dismounted, and engaged one of the boats of the country and embarked. However, as there was little or no wind, we were out all night, and did not reach the Piræus before four o’clock in the afternoon of the 31st. This is a fine natural port, but the town was then a miserable place, surrounded by a few wretched buildings, at the head of which was a Turkish custom-house, where the authorities at first made considerable opposition to our landing. However, I soon silenced them with a respectable backshish, or present, when they became as civil as possible, and not only allowed us to land with our baggage, but did not subject us to any examination; we therefore at once inquired for horses to take us to Athens, but finding none to be had, were obliged to remain that night in a wretched plastered room at the custom-house. Next day, 1st April, having got horses, we started at six, with no end of wrangling with muleteers, which the Turks soon silenced by laying about right and left, to our great amusement. I at once interfered, and rewarded the Turks with another backshish, when they heartily saluted me, and we started without further molestation, and reached Athens, six miles distant, over a miserable road, within an hour and a half, at half-past seven o’clock. There were then no hotels, so we took up our quarters at the house of a respectable Greek, Toagrafos, with but poor accommodation. I by this time had become so accustomed to bad fare and lodging that I did not mind it, but my friend, the French artist, was not so easily satisfied; we therefore parted, and he endeavoured to find better apartments elsewhere. I never met him again, and consequently do not know how he succeeded with his panorama, or whether he ever completed it, but I heard that about a year afterwards a panorama of Greece had been exhibited at Paris with considerable success. I hoped that it was that of my friend, for he appeared to be an excellent person, and was certainly a very pleasant companion, with all the characteristic ardour and enthusiasm of his countrymen. He had never been out of France before, and therefore felt the désagréments of the journey a great deal more than I did; nevertheless, by the time he reached Athens he had become tolerably well accustomed to it, and, with the usual French sang froid, made up his mind to it, and enjoyed the journey as much as myself.

We arrived at Athens on Friday, the 1st April, in the midst of spring; the weather was delightful, the sun shining brightly, the sky cloudless, the vegetation bursting into full luxuriance, the plain and mountains covered with flowers and shrubs of the most brilliant and varied hues. Nature seemed to be in all her glory, and man to sympathize with her. I was in most exuberant spirits, and was pleased with everything around me. The beauty of the country, and the very idea that I was in Athens, which from my boyhood I was most anxious to see, and which I scarcely ever expected to behold, aroused me to such a pitch of enthusiasm that I could scarcely believe my eyes; which was not extraordinary, considering the brilliant and memorable scene which burst upon my sight, and by which I was surrounded. I soon sallied forth again, called upon the English and Austrian consuls and delivered my letters, and hurried about all day, taking a hasty view of the Parthenon, the Temple of Theseus, Jupiter Olympus, and the Temple of the Winds, which I admired excessively; then, thoroughly tired and exhausted, I returned to my lodgings, took a hasty supper and went to bed, dreaming of the glories of ancient Greece. After breakfast I went out, and at once made my way to the Acropolis, where the glorious Parthenon stood out prominently. I was riveted to the spot with admiration, and could go no farther. At last I came to myself, and found the scorching rays of the sun rather more than agreeable. I then returned to my quarters, dined, reposed during the heat of the day, and towards evening I again sallied forth, and enjoyed a magnificent sunset, such as I had been totally unaccustomed to in our frigid climate of England. I again went to the Acropolis the following day, and there enjoyed the splendid scene. The Acropolis is a detached rock, standing high above the plain or valley on which Athens is situated; upon this rock is the citadel, where the Parthenon, the Erechtheum, and all the other principal buildings are placed, and in addition to this it is a citadel or fortress, where, in case of attack, and the city below being taken, the Acropolis would form a refuge for the garrison and the inhabitants. From the summit you command a view of the country all around: on the north Mount Olympus and the Pindus range of mountains; on the south the Mediterranean, the island of Syra, and several others; on the east the plain of Athens, flanked by Mount Hymettus, and Mount Hybla on the north; on the west the Piræus, the Ægean Sea, and the mountains of the Peloponnesus or Morea; in fact, whichever way you look, the view is delightful, and you are satisfied.

I at once removed into a new lodging in a Greek house, which appeared tolerably clean and comfortable but as usual I found it full of fleas, which tormented me day and night. However, when I went to bed I hit upon a plan to relieve me at least of a good many of them, which fortunately proved successful. I placed a number of large plates filled with oil, having a wick in them; I then lighted the wicks, and the fleas, attracted by this, leaped into the plates, which in the morning were black with them, and by this means I got rid of the greatest part, and at length enjoyed some comfort.

I now determined to study the antiquities more at leisure, and set regularly about it. Every morning, immediately after breakfast, I proceeded to the Acropolis, and employed myself in drawing and measuring the Parthenon, Erechtheum, and other buildings until dinner time; and after, in the evening, I took walks and rides round the adjacent country. Having finished the Acropolis, I then proceeded to the Temples of Theseus and Jupiter Olympus, the Temple of the Winds, and the other antiquities, which occupied me about a month. All these splendid specimens of architecture have been so accurately described in the elaborate works of Stuart, Cockerell, Dodwell, Gell, and others, that it is unnecessary to describe them here. With regard to the Piræus, and the other ports of Athens, I examined them minutely, and for plans and description of them I refer to my work on ‘British and Foreign Harbours.’ I also saw a little of Athenian society. Amongst others, I made the acquaintance of the Maid of Athens (so celebrated by Byron), who was very pretty, ladylike, and agreeable. I was also most kindly received by Mr. Gropeus, the Austrian Consul, Mr. Logotheti, the English Consul, and by the well-known artist, Mr. Luzieri, who had made some fine views of Athens for Lord Elgin.

The Turks treated the Greeks with great contempt and very little ceremony. By way of illustration, I was present at the arrival of a new Governor or Vaivode. His Excellency came mounted on a beautiful white Arabian horse, surrounded by about a hundred well-mounted cavalry, all in the magnificent Turkish costume of the day; next there followed the hareem, in crimson-coloured carriages, each slung between two horses, and escorted on foot by numerous eunuchs and blacks, all splendidly attired; then the baggage, which was carried on the backs of horses, led and guarded by Greeks, mixed with Turkish soldiers on foot. The whole town turned out to witness the sight and welcome their new Governor, who scarcely deigned to look at them; whilst the attendants going before cleared the way with sticks, which they by no means used sparingly, dealing their blows right and left on everyone within reach. A number of Turkish lads amongst the crowd amused themselves by firing off their guns and pistols, which were loaded with ball and shot. They took no care which way they fired; sometimes in the air, sometimes on the ground, and sometimes straight forward amongst the crowd; of course everybody got out of the way, myself amongst the number. I saw one Greek who had his leg broken by a shot from a Turkish lad near me, at which he, the Turk, and the whole of his companions, shouted with joy, and seemed to think it great fun: at this I could not restrain my indignation, and being armed with a good stout stick, I rushed amongst them, striking right and left: some Greeks tried to stop me, but I stuck to them, and had the satisfaction of seeing that no more shots were fired except in the air. Nothing impressed the Turks with so much respect as courage and vigour; the more you humbled yourself, the more they bullied you, being anything but fond of fighting. I found from experience that this was the only way to treat them; for though frequently amongst them, and under the most trying circumstances, I was rarely molested. Afterwards I witnessed the entrance of the Pacha of Negropont, which was in the same style, but upon a more extended scale.

I occasionally visited the convents, inhabited by a few worthy monks, who kindly receive strangers and lodge and board them for a moderate sum. The situation is excellent, being in the higher part of the town, close to the beautiful remains of the Temple of the Winds, with a splendid view. Athens at the time of my visit was a poor miserable place, without an inn worthy of the name. It was surrounded by a crenellated wall, which even the artillery of that day would have demolished with a few rounds of shot. The Ilyssus and Cephisus are trifling streams, which, passing on the south side of the town, discharge their waters into the sea a few miles below. During summer there is scarcely any water, as it is conducted away by different channels for irrigation, so that the beds of these two rivulets are dry.

Having explored Athens sufficiently for my purpose, I determined to make a tour of the Morea, and accordingly hired a small decked vessel of about 30 tons to cross the Ægean Sea, leaving Athens for the Piræus on the 25th of March; and after waiting some time on board in the harbour, at seven on the 25th started, reached Ægina at eight, landed after breakfast, and proceeded on foot to the Temple of Jupiter, on a hill about a mile from the shore. We spent here nearly three hours measuring and examining the remains of this beautiful specimen of Greek architecture, and sketching the surrounding picturesque scenery; then started for the town and port of Ægina, whither I had sent the vessel to meet us, and was told that the distance was only three or four miles, which turned out to be nearly twelve, over a rough path, so that we did not reach Ægina until nearly 6 P.M., very tired and hungry, having had no lunch. The Temple of Jupiter is a fine specimen of the Doric, and is well described in Mr. C. R. Cockerell’s excellent work, to which the reader is referred. The small town of Ægina is situated about the middle of the west side of the island, facing the Morea, from which it is separated by a channel about eight or ten miles wide. The town and island of Ægina were governed by a Vaivode, who had a few Turkish soldiers, and was inhabited chiefly by fishermen and small traders. The surrounding country is hilly, with fertile valleys producing olives, vines, and grain, and beans of several kinds; and there are a few sheep and goats.

The next morning, the 26th March, I rose early and examined the port, which consisted of two artificial harbours, formed by two piers, each carried out from the shore, enclosing a considerable space of water, with a depth of about 10 or 12 feet. This was made by the ancients, and Mr. Cockerell gave me a plan of it, which is inserted in my work on ‘British and Foreign Harbours.’ It was then blowing very hard north-west and contrary; however, soon after noon the wind abated, when we embarked, and arrived at the little port or bay of Pilascro, the ancient Epidauros, on the opposite shore of the Morea, about five o’clock in the afternoon. Here we disembarked, and walked round the place, and could only discover what appeared to be the remains of a bath, and some mutilated figures near it; and a little farther some similar remains, but nothing remarkable; so that it would require considerable time to make anything out of them. In Sir W. Gell’s ‘Itinerary of the Morea’ what is there is well described.

We slept on board. On the 27th we rose at daylight, and found that the baggage horses, Greek servants, and an excellent Arabian horse, which I bought at Athens, and which I sent round by land, had arrived at Epidauros. Having disembarked our baggage and discharged the vessel, we loaded the baggage on the horses, after which we started for Napoli di Romania, a small town situated on the Gulf of Argos, not many miles distant from Epidauros, through an undulating, picturesque, and rich country. On account of the guide taking the wrong road, we were obliged to stop at the village of Tero, where there are a considerable number of Roman and Greek remains.

On Friday, 28th March, we started at half-past six, and at noon reached the picturesque fortress of Napoli di Romania, on the east side of the Gulf of Argos, situated on a lofty hill commanding the entrance to the gulf. The miserable town lay beneath the citadel, which, as well as the town itself, was strongly fortified according to the Venetian system, and was a place of considerable strength, garrisoned by a set of bigoted Turkish troops, imbued with a thorough hatred of Christians, so that I was strongly advised not to stop there. There was, however, no alternative, as there was no other place near. I therefore rode into the town, and took up my quarters at the English Vice-Consul’s, who was a Greek. Immediately after my arrival I went out, and tried to get into the citadel, in order to have a view of the town and surrounding country, which was very fine, but the Turks refused me admittance in the most insolent manner, and told me to get about my business as quickly as possible. I found that it was of no use to attempt to proceed farther, and returned at once to the town, and after having examined it, and found nothing worthy of notice, returned to my lodgings. Here the Vice-Consul came to me in a great fright, and said that the Turks had been much annoyed at my arrival, and that I must depart directly; strongly urging me to do so, as he said that he could not protect me, and if I stayed he would not be responsible for the consequences. I replied that as it was night it was too late to depart then, but that I would do so the next morning at daybreak. To this he consented. I accordingly supped, and went to bed. On the following morning my servant and myself were in the saddle before daybreak, and were at the gates of the fortress waiting for them to be opened. In Turkish fortresses at that day it was the custom to make every foreigner and Greek dismount and walk over the drawbridge. I thought that this was degrading, and determined not to do it. As soon, therefore, as the gates were opened, and the drawbridge let down, I started off at a rapid pace, and told Demetrius to follow me. In passing the Turkish guard, consisting of three or four badly-armed men, they called out to me to stop, which I disregarded, and galloped off as fast as I could. I had scarcely proceeded a couple of hundred yards when, turning round, I saw Demetrius in the hands of the Turks, who were belabouring him with sticks, and trying to pull him off his horse. He kicked and fought with all his might. I immediately rode back with a loaded pistol in each hand, and dashed amongst the Turks, who soon released my man, and spurring our horses we galloped off as hard as possible, never pulling rein for a full mile, and then, finding we were not followed, stopped and joined our men and baggage, whom I had left behind in a small Greek house before I entered Nauplia the preceding evening. Thus I got happily out of this affair, which might have been rather serious; but I always found the best way was to show a bold front to the Turks, and not allow them to insult you. After a little halt we started again, and stopped to examine the ruins of the ancient city of Tiryns, said to have been built by the Cyclopeans. These are very curious and interesting, and are supposed to be the oldest specimens of architecture in Greece. They are constructed of rough, only partially hewn blocks of stone, rudely put together without cement. We have here an attempt to construct a Gothic arch; but the stones are not radiated, the beds being flat, each stone projecting over another until they meet in the centre. These ruins are extensive, covering a surface of several acres. They are well described and represented in Gell’s ‘Itinerary.’

From Tiryns I proceeded to Mycene, about 12 miles farther northward. These ruins are also very extensive, and once formed the capital of Agamemnon, with a small surrounding territory. The chief building worthy of remark is the Hall of Atreus. This, of the kind, is a fine work, constructed of solid masonry, of large blocks of stone well squared, and put together without cement. The hall is circular, and 47 feet 6 inches in diameter in the inside, and 42 feet 6 inches high, the top covered by a single stone, thus forming a Gothic arch inside of squared blocks of stone, the beds being horizontal, and the stones projecting over each other in the inside until they meet in the centre, the angles of the projecting stones in the inside being cut off and dressed smoothly on the face, so that, when viewing it from within, the whole has the appearance of a nicely-constructed dome, lighted from the top by a circular opening. The side walls are 18 feet 6 inches at bottom, diminishing to 18 inches at top. It is a remarkable work, and may be considered as one of the earliest specimens of the arch, and a considerable improvement upon that of Tiryns. The entrance to the hall is by a massive doorway, the sides being formed of single stones well dressed, and the top of another single block equally well prepared; this is surmounted by another large block, upon which is sculptured in bold relief two lions rampant. The approach to the doorway is between two solid walls of masonry, forming a passage open to the air. This being near the summit of a hill, there is a fine view from it over the plain, or rather valley, beneath, backed by the ruins of the ancient city of Argos and its Acropolis, on the Gulf of Nauplia, and on the west by a fine range of mountains, the highest of which towers prominently above the rest, standing far above the level of the Mediterranean.

After having measured the Hall of Atreus, and having made a sketch of the surrounding country, during which my people had managed to cook an excellent dinner in the open air, I dined, and started about 4 P.M., and reached Argos at 5 P.M. The ruins of the ancient city contain little worthy of remark, and the modern one is a miserable village, seated amongst the ruins. The rich country was not half cultivated, merely dotted here and there with a few vineyards and olive woods. Argos is now about a mile from the head of the Gulf of Nauplia, but it is very probable that in former times the sea washed the walls of the ancient city; the intervening space has been filled up by alluvial deposit, and it is now little better than a marsh.

I slept at the caravanserai, and next morning started for the Temple of Jupiter at Nemea, passing through a rich valley with vines, grain, and olives, and the village of Agioz Georgious, near which is a convent on a hill. These convents are not the seats of learning, for the monks are lazy and ignorant; but they form comfortable resting-places for travellers who pay well for their accommodation. The ruins of the Temple of Jupiter, well described by Gell, consist only of three columns of an indifferent style of Doric.

Having returned to Argos to sleep, on Sunday, May 1, I arose early. The morning was wet and stormy, and I was detained by the muleteer demanding extra pay for the horses, which, however, the Bey decided against him. We accordingly started about seven, and soon after began to ascend the Pass through the mountains, having on the left the miserable village Lerna, seated on the swampy shore of the gulf, anciently called Hydra; and hence was derived the Lernean hydra or monster, celebrated by Virgil. This was no doubt nothing more than the malaria fever personified, which prevails severely in this district. In fact, the whole of this country had a wretched, forlorn, deserted appearance. The population was scanty, oppressed by poverty, misery, and tyranny, their countenances for the most part pale and haggard, expressing despair and dejection, to extricate themselves from which appeared hopeless; whilst the surrounding country, naturally fertile, aided by the influence of a genial climate, only required the industry of man to make it yield the richest reward. Nothing was done; all lay dead and desolate. Nature seemed to have done everything for man, while man had in everything neglected nature; a not uncommon occurrence, and one which, as far as my experience goes, has produced more misery than almost anything else.

We began to ascend the Pass over a rude causeway, about eight or ten feet wide, in many places cut up into deep gullies by the torrents; the ascent steep, rugged, and difficult, fit only for mules and pack-horses. The evening was fine, however, the air fresh and invigorating, and the scenery beautiful, which raised my spirits after the melancholy caused by the depressing influence of the sight of so much desolation. Having got to the summit of the Pass, we had a magnificent view on both sides. Looking back, we had the Gulf of Nauplia, with the picturesque fortress at the entrance, the plain of Argos and its ruins, also those of Mycene and Tiryns, backed by a rugged outline of hills; on the west the fertile plain, with its capital Tripolitza, and the ruins of Mantinea, backed by a bold line of hills, with the magnificent Taygetus rising 7000 feet, flanked on both sides by the blue waters of the Mediterranean. We reached Tripolitza just after dark, and, as usual, put up at the best Greek house where we could find admittance; and as I had a good sumpter mule, Demetrius soon prepared a capital supper, which I enjoyed much after a hard-working day of nineteen hours, during which I had been fourteen hours in the saddle. I slept soundly, notwithstanding the attacks of numerous fleas, to which by this time I had become tolerably well accustomed.

Tripolitza, although the capital of the Morea, was but a poor place, with about 4000 inhabitants, and the Turkish garrison of about 300 men. The Governor’s palace was merely an assemblage of some low, insignificant buildings enclosed within a wall. The rest of the town consisted of irregular, crooked, narrow, dirty streets, some of them hardly wide enough for a carriage, for which, indeed, there was no need, and there were none; with a place or square near the centre, surrounded by cafés, where the Turks and better class of natives, such as they were, sat idly smoking their long pipes and nargillas with that stupid indifference and repose which characterized them, perfectly regardless of any but themselves, and quite unconscious and indifferent to the misery around them. There were one or two bazaars, where all the business of the place was transacted; in these cloths, furs, shawls, leather articles, such as saddles, bridles, &c., silks, arms, pipes, tobacco, and provisions of all kinds, were sold, but scarcely any articles of European manufacture. The town was surrounded by a crenellated wall, unfit for artillery, and incapable of resistance to European troops; and there were two or three mosques, with their minarets rising above the mass of insignificant buildings, and a few Greek churches, the interiors of which were decorated with rude and almost grotesque representations of saints. These edifices, towering above the rest, had a picturesque and imposing effect when viewed from a distance, but this vanished the moment you drew near and entered, when little else but dirt and misery met the eye.

The following day after my arrival I walked about the town, amusing myself with the little which was to be seen; and the next day I rode, accompanied by my servant Demetrius, to the ruins of the ancient Mantinea, formerly a city of considerable importance, and well fortified according to the style of that period. It was surrounded by a strong lofty stone wall, about 25 feet high, flanked at intervals by circular turrets, and in front of each entrance there was a kind of lunette or advanced work to protect it, so that an enemy, in endeavouring to enter, was exposed to flank attacks from the garrison. These walls were surrounded by a wide ditch filled with water, and the total surface enclosed by them is considerable. The ruins within consist of the remains of a hippodrome, theatre, and other private and public buildings, concerning which, from their scattered and dilapidated condition, it was difficult to define anything accurately. In the neighbourhood of Tripolitza there are numerous kalavatha, or subterranean conduits for carrying off the water for drainage, irrigation, and supplying the inhabitants. The river flowing through the plain, if such it can be called, is an insignificant stream; it is connected with the subterranean conduits described above. The surrounding country was tolerably cultivated, and produced corn, pulse, oil, and wine, both red and white. This wine was made in a very rough way, and, in order to preserve it, was mixed with a certain quantity of turpentine, which gave it a strong bitter flavour, by no means agreeable at first; and until you become accustomed to it, you cannot drink it with any degree of relish, but by degrees you like it, and it is very wholesome.

Whilst at Tripolitza I became acquainted with the late Mr. Hodgets Foley, afterwards M.P. for Droitwich, a very amiable, good-natured person. As an instance of Turkish civility, Mr. Foley was taking his usual ride in the evening, accompanied by his servant, and on his way met with a party of the delhi, or cavalry, playing at football, a game in which they much delighted. As they passed he civilly pulled up to get out of their way, when two or three of them at once, without the smallest provocation, attacked him, laid hold of his horse, and otherwise maltreated him, and he with some difficulty extricated himself from their hands, and rode back to Tripolitza as quickly as possible, to lay his complaint before our Vice-Consul, who was a Greek. He made his complaint to the Governor, who promised redress, but (Turkish fashion) never gave it. Foley’s mistake was this, that instead of getting out of the way, he should have ridden right into the midst of them, laying about him on both sides with his whip as hard as possible; then they would have feared and respected him, and have never offered him any violence.

After having seen all that was worthy of attention in the town and neighbourhood, I started for Misitra, the site of the ancient Sparta, some miles from Tripolitza, the route to which lay through the plain. We reached Misitra, a miserable village, towards evening, and obtained tolerable quarters in a respectable Greek house, where we were received very kindly, and most hospitably entertained, which of course I paid for by a handsome present. I sat down to supper with the family, consisting of the husband, his handsome wife, daughter, and son, before a low table, placed upon the floor; the dishes consisted of soup, a species of stewed mutton, vegetables, and cakes and fruits. After dinner the servant came round with a basin and ewer, and poured water over our hands, and then presented a napkin to wipe them: we next adjourned to another room, where coffee and pipes were served, and the daughter sung very prettily some Greek airs, accompanied by the mandoline; and thus I passed a very agreeable evening.

The following morning I rose early and proceeded to the ruins of ancient Sparta, some miles distant. Here nothing is to be seen of this ancient celebrated city, but some mounds, fragments of walls and buildings, the extent and designation of which it is extremely difficult to make out. It was in vain, therefore, to attempt more, and so I next determined to prosecute my journey into Maina, said to be inhabited by the descendants of the Spartans. This was considered at that time to be a journey of considerable difficulty and danger, and, indeed, impracticable, on account of the lawlessness of the natives, who were said to be nothing more than a set of pirates and robbers, at war with the whole world and each other. Lord Byron wished to go there, but was dissuaded from it, although no person ever accused his lordship of want of courage. My janissary advised me not to make the journey, and said that he would not accompany me, as we should all be murdered; and added that the Turks, who had frequently endeavoured to conquer the country both by land and by sea, had always failed. The more they tried to dissuade me from going, the more I was determined to do it, being stimulated also by doing that which few persons would attempt; therefore I discharged my janissaries and extra horses and servants, and sent them to meet me at Calamata, the other side of the peninsula, and decided to undertake the journey with Demetrius alone, who was well acquainted with one of the captains or chiefs of the district of Marathonesi, and who was anxious to go himself, and said that the difficulties had been greatly exaggerated, and that we should get through very well. I resolved, therefore, to start on the following morning.

Before proceeding farther I will endeavour to describe the country which we were about to visit. The district of Maina is situated at the southern extremity of the Morea; it is bounded on the north by Mount Taygetus, and its subsidiary range of mountains, and by Cape Matapan on the south, so that it forms a triangle, jutting out into the Mediterranean; and on the east and west sides it is bordered by that sea, so that on all sides, except on the north, it is surrounded by water. As to the aborigines, it is difficult to find any well-authenticated account; it is supposed that they at one time formed part of the Spartan republic. After the conquest of the Greeks by the Romans, and subsequently by the Turks, they took refuge here, and being of a warlike and restless temperament, disdained all subjection to any one chief, but divided themselves into separate communities, and chose their chief for the time, who was the most able and successful warrior amongst them. These communities or tribes were wholly independent, and were frequently at war with each other, but always united to defend themselves against the common enemy, and they drove out the Turks, who frequently, but in vain, attempted to bring them under subjection, and latterly had quite given it up. Such was the state of the country when I visited it. The whole population was considered to be about 20,000, divided into capitanates or beylichs, with a supreme chief, to whom, however, the allegiance was merely nominal, and only accorded when the whole country was invaded by a common enemy. On other occasions, each tribe or community made war upon the others upon the least provocation, or upon the surrounding countries and seas as it suited them; in fact, they were a horde of pirates, at war with all mankind, who treated them accordingly. It was no uncommon event at that day for a British ship of war to bombard its seaports and to land a strong body of men to chastise the natives whenever they could lay hold of them; but as the coast is intersected with numerous creeks, backed by innumerable inaccessible mountain fortresses, to which they escaped when overpowered, it was almost impossible to root them out. Every petty chief had a stronghold or fortress, where he lived with his most intimate followers. In some cases this fortress was surrounded by a strong loop-holed wall, to which no access was given except by a drawbridge or ladder, which could be drawn up when attacked; and the access to the castle within was the same. In others it was a simple square or round tower, with the entrance about 10 feet above the ground, approachable only by a ladder, which could be removed at pleasure, and was always drawn up at night. The country for the most part was uncultivated, and although extremely fertile, capable of producing corn, wine, oil, fruit, and silk in abundance, served little more than to supply the deficiency when booty was scarce. Such was the general state of Maina, which I determined to visit. We accordingly left our heavy baggage behind, and I started early in the morning, accompanied by Demetrius and one baggage horse. Shortly after leaving Misitra we crossed the frontier, came to a wild, desolate country with nothing but brushwood, occasionally mixed with lofty valonia trees, the bark and fruit of which form a valuable article of export.

At midday we halted as usual to give our horses, as well as ourselves, rest and refreshment; and the ever-active Demetrius, in a comparatively short time, provided us with a tolerable dinner, and after a couple of hours’ rest started again on our journey, and passing through the same kind of wild country we reached the sea-shore and the ruins of the ancient Marathonesi, the greatest portion of which had been submerged by an earthquake, and we could distinctly discern the buildings through the clear water. A few miles farther we reached the neat little seaport town, the modern Marathonesi, the capital of the tribe of which Demetrius’s friend was the chief. In the course of our day’s journey we were not a little inspired and gratified that we had not been attacked or even molested, notwithstanding the dismal accounts and forebodings which had been made to us. It is true we met a few rough, straggling, armed fellows on the way, and they looked at us with a fierce, independent scowl, but seeing us well armed and prepared to meet them, passed on without further remark.

We arrived, soon after sunset, at the house of the chief, and were most kindly received by him, and he showed us into some clean comfortable bedrooms, furnished, to my surprise, in the French fashion. The fact is, the chief was a great merchant and trader with the Ionian Islands, Italy, and France, and possessed considerable wealth, and was far more civilized than the rest of his countrymen. He was a fine handsome courteous young man, about twenty-eight, of the middle size, and extremely well-proportioned, sinewy, active, and vigorous. His countenance was oval, of the true Greek form, with dark piercing eyes, black eyebrows and lashes, well-defined nose, small mouth, with compressed lips, and beautiful white teeth; with long moustaches, curling several inches below his chin, and his head covered with a profusion of black hair hanging down in natural ringlets; he wore no beard, his chin being closely shaven; in fact, he was a very dashing personage. He gave us an excellent supper, and entertained us with numerous anecdotes and accounts of the country and its inhabitants; he asked me how I could think of venturing among such a lawless people, whom no stranger ever visited, and strongly recommended me to go back, as after having learned that I proposed to cross the country and return by the opposite coast, he said the journey would be attended with considerable danger, and he feared that he could not protect me. Both Demetrius, who sat at table with us, and myself told him that it would be disgraceful to go back, and if he would furnish us with an escort of some of his followers they should be properly paid, and we had no doubt but that we should get through our journey without difficulty. Finding that we were determined to proceed, he opposed our intentions no more, but said he would do the best he could for us. Being rather tired with our day’s ride, we went to bed and slept soundly until soon after sunrise the next morning, when we were up and stirring. Our friend, the chief, told me that he would provide me with an escort of twenty-five well-armed men, whom I might safely rely upon. We accordingly breakfasted, and went to look over the town, which was the neatest and cleanest I had seen in Greece. There were several vessels taking in and delivering their cargoes; in fact, the little town was bustling with activity and industry. All my escort, consisting of five-and-twenty stout, active, wiry fellows, were mustered outside of the town waiting for me, and a fierce, rough, savage-looking set they were, armed to the teeth with guns, pistols, and yatagans, clad a good deal like Albanians, with kilts, jackets, hose, and red skull-caps, with long moustaches, close-shaven chins, and long hair falling down their shoulders. Most of them had several scars from wounds received in their various fights. Before starting I examined their arms to see if they were properly loaded and flinted, as it frequently happened that they were in bad order and would not go off when they pulled the trigger, and often burst, so that they did more harm to themselves than to their enemies. I found the arms, however, better than I expected, and giving some of them fresh flints and good powder and ball, they were properly loaded. I then said a few words of encouragement, which their chief, who was with me, interpreted, and told them to behave like men, and take care of me, and they would be properly paid. The men answered one and all, that there was no fear but that they would take good care of the English Milord, as they called me, and off we started in high spirits for the opposite side of the peninsula.

The view from Marathonesi was extremely beautiful. On the north the noble Mount Taygetus, with its numerous peaks, deeply-indented gorges, ravines, and its sides covered densely with woods, rose towering above the clouds. At its base there was a torrent running east and west through a valley bordered by precipitous cliffs towards the sea. On the south side of the torrent was a narrow road, and the perpendicular cliff on the south side of the road was full of caverns admirably adapted for the concealment of brigands, pirates, and bad characters of all kinds, of which so many abounded in the country. We had to pass through this gorge, and at the time there was a great number of these vagabonds concealed in the caves, waiting to intercept the merchants going backwards and forwards to and from Marathonesi. I was warned of this, and determined to drive these rascals, if there were any, out of the caverns before we passed. I accordingly told about eight or ten of the most active of my escort to cross the river and climb the base of the hill, and to fire into the caves, whilst I and the main body proceeded along the road; and as we searched each cave as we advanced, if any robbers were concealed in them, they could not escape; and if they attempted to do so, they were exposed to two fires. We were thus proceeding cautiously through the Pass, and had scarcely well entered when my men on the opposite side of the valley commenced firing into the caverns, and at first they were sharply replied to by the concealed bandits. This did not last long, for the robbers, who were not equal to us in numbers, found that they were out-manœuvred, and if they remained in the caves must all be taken, and they expected little mercy from their captors. They therefore left the caves, and fled as fast as possible, upon seeing which my people on both sides of the torrent followed them with equal speed, firing at random whilst they went forward. This rude and desultory mode of fighting was fortunately attended with no slaughter, although several flesh wounds occurred. My party being the stronger, we overtook the brigands, and made three or four prisoners. At this my people were delighted, and at the same time exasperated against them, and wished to shoot them. I at once interposed, but found that my men were so excited with the fight and subsequent pursuit, that it was extremely difficult to control them. However, after a little while I pacified them by saying that it was unmanly and unworthy to kill an enemy after he had surrendered. This did not seem to have much impression on them, as they considered the conquered their lawful prize, and that they might do what they liked with them. I ultimately quieted them by saying that I would pay a good sum per head for each of the four taken, which they willingly accepted, fearing that if they refused I should report them to their chief. I therefore released the captives, who upon their knees thanked me for their lives. Having reached the end of the Pass, and the road being tolerably clear to the end of the day’s journey, I dismissed my escort with about ten shillings each, besides a capital dinner, and a good sum for the captives, with which they were pleased, and left me with many thanks and cheers, expressed very cordially in their peculiar and rough manner.

Having parted with my escort, I rode leisurely forward with Demetrius and the baggage horse, until we reached the castle of a capitano, to whom I had a letter of introduction from my excellent friend the Captain of Marathonesi. On our arrival, which was just as the sun was setting, we found the chief surrounded by numerous followers seated on stone benches fixed to the gate of the outer wall by which the castle was surrounded. The old chief and his attendants were quietly enjoying their pipes and coffee, whilst the cowherds were driving in the cattle for the night, just as described in Homer. The chief and his suite arose to meet me as I advanced and presented my letter of introduction, which he received with much dignity, and welcomed me most kindly to his castle, and certainly a wild, rough place it was. Within the outer wall was placed the keep or castle, consisting of a great square tower massively built, containing a few rough apartments with little or no furniture except a few mattresses and cushions, which were removed during the day. The space between the main tower or residence was filled with numerous outhouses and sheds for the cattle and servants and guards of the chief. After a short conversation we adjourned to the inner castle, and were shown into the principal room, about 30 feet square, with divers rows of low cushions placed all round against the walls. Directly after our arrival, a low table was brought in, and the chief, his attendants, myself, and servant Demetrius, to the number of about a dozen, sat down cross-legged to supper, which was immediately served. This consisted of stewed mutton, with vegetables, roast game, sweets, and fruits, which for the most part we ate with our fingers. Before each guest was placed a bottle full of wine, but there were no glasses on the table, so that one had no alternative but to drink out of the bottle, which was refilled several times with good red wine. After dinner we took to our pipes and coffee, during which we had a good deal of agreeable conversation, which was chiefly devoted to inquiries about England, in which they appeared to take the greatest interest. After having well supped, and having smoked and conversed as long as we felt it agreeable, one by one we dropped off to sleep upon our mattresses, armed, and without undressing, ready for a surprise at any moment. I soon fell asleep, and awoke at daybreak thoroughly refreshed. We all got up, shook ourselves, washed, and took coffee and a pipe, and then strolled about till breakfast. This castle is situated on a fine bay on the sea-shore, near the base of Taygetus. Outside the walls of the castle there is a straggling village. Besides fishing-boats, there were several others of a more suspicious character, being sharply built, and having the appearance of pirates. We got a capital breakfast with the old chief; afterwards rowed in the bay; and then taking a hearty farewell of my worthy host, started for Kitriai, the castle of the Bey, who was the nominal chief of the whole of Maina. We reached Kitriai a little before sunset, and were most kindly received by the Bey, a fine old warrior, about 5 feet 10 inches high, well built, square, and muscular, with an open, well-developed Greek countenance, thick moustache, and flowing white beard. There was something mild and gentlemanlike in his manner, very different to any other we had met. We were shown to our apartments, which were very comfortable, overlooking the sea and surrounding coasts. I spent the next day very agreeably in looking about the adjacent country, which was very pretty, but not so wild and grand as that nearer to Taygetus. Besides the Bey, there were several of his counsellors, his secretary, and one or two Greek priests, all accomplished persons, who spoke the Greek in its purity, much to my gratification and instruction. The town of Kitriai is about the size of Marathonesi, but not nearly so neat and clean, neither had it so much trade.

On the morning after, we started at daybreak, and proceeded along the coast to Calamata. This town ranked about the third in the Morea, and was then doing a good trade; but, like all the towns in the Morea, was miserable and dirty, with narrow streets, low buildings, from one to two stories high, two or three insignificant mosques and Greek churches, and a square near the centre, with several cafés, filled, as usual, with idle Turks and Albanians, smoking their pipes and sipping coffee and sherbet, whilst numerous Greek merchants and Jews were transacting their business. The bazaars were close by, and crowded with purchasers. The harbour was full of vessels and sailors of various kinds—Hydriote Greeks (amongst the best sailors on the Mediterranean), Austrian, French, and a few English vessels, besides a number of boats called caiques, and fishing vessels, altogether a busy scene. I took up my quarters at a Greek house, as rough and dirty as usual, and found my heavy baggage, servants, and janissary whom I had sent from Misitra.

Next day I started at daybreak through a wild, undulating, partially-cultivated country to visit the two Doric temples of Messenia, where Mr. Cockerell discovered the celebrated Phigalian marbles. It is said that these marbles were sent to Malta for sale, of which due notice was given by advertisement, and a certain day fixed for the auction, to which commissioners were sent by the British and other Governments. The sale, however, by some mistake, took place at Athens. The British agent, not being aware of this, remained at Malta. There was therefore no person present to bid on the part of the British Government, and they were knocked down to the Bavarian agent. When this was announced, the British Government refused to deliver up the marbles, upon the plea that the sale ought to have taken place at Malta. The matter remained in abeyance until the Peace of 1814, when the Bavarian sovereign was in England. Certain negotiations then took place, and the British Government ultimately agreed to give the marbles up to Bavaria, upon condition that a complete set of casts was sent to the British Museum. By this unfortunate affair England lost a valuable prize; and this loss was the more annoying, because, having already obtained the Elgin marbles, the Phigalian marbles—which represented an earlier stage of Greek art—would have rendered the English collection the most complete in the world. I spent the greater part of the day at Phigalia in measuring and sketching the temples, which are situated upon a hill commanding a fine view of the picturesque surrounding country.

I took up my quarters in a Greek house, got supper as soon as possible, and went to bed, with the customary annoyance of vermin. The country around was naturally rich and fertile, but left, as usual, almost in a state of nature. Undulating, with clumps of wood scattered about, it resembled a good deal the park-like scenery of England. There were numerous flocks of sheep and goats and a few herds of cattle feeding upon excellent herbage, guarded here and there by wild, shepherds, armed with guns and yatagans. The peasantry appeared very poor and ragged, but, notwithstanding, many of the women had skull-caps made of gold coins strung together, called mahmoudies, about the size of a sovereign. This composed their whole wealth; and it is a curious fact that these head-dresses were respected, and never stolen. The men also, and in some cases the women, had the girdles round their waists fastened together by large discs of silver about the size of a small plate. Thus there was a strange contrast of wealth and poverty exhibited in the same person.

We started early next day, and at noon on the second day reached the Alpheus, the most considerable river in the Morea, and which flows through the famous plain of Olympia. The river Alpheus here was 150 to 200 yards broad, but fortunately the waters were low, although we had some difficulty in crossing without swimming our horses. In the Olympian plain there were scarcely any remains worth noticing, though numerous fragments of marble, brick, and pottery are strewed about. We got some very rough quarters for the night in a village near Olympia, and next day, passing over a similar kind of country, reached Patras before sunset, at which we greatly rejoiced, as we were tolerably tired with our rough journey in the Morea. I succeeded in getting, as I thought, clean, comfortable quarters in a respectable Greek house. I was shown upstairs into a large well-furnished room, with apparently a delicious-looking bed covered with a snow-white counterpane. They gave me an excellent dinner and some good wine, after which, being very tired, I threw myself on the outside of the bed for a nap. I slept most soundly for about five or six hours, and when I awoke it was quite dark; I felt all the torments of the damned, for I was almost devoured by immense bugs. I jumped out of the bed in an instant, rubbing my face, which was covered with blood and bugs, and struck a light, when I found that the bed too was almost covered with them. I very soon caught some dozens, I may almost say hundreds; I undressed, and cleared my clothes of them, then dressed myself, and waited until daylight, being resolved not to trust to a Greek bed again, but to my own mattress.

I spent the next day at Patras quietly, and then started off on my return to Athens, taking the circuitous route by Delphos, Livadia, Eubœa, Negropont, and Marathon. We coasted along the south shore of the Gulf of Lepanto, passed our old friend the ruined convent near Vostizza, and dined at the house of a Greek merchant near, who kindly invited and treated me most hospitably. After dinner, just before I departed, our worthy host said he would show me a curiosity, and without more ado he brought out a large tub full of black snakes each about four feet long; at the word of command all these reptiles leaped out of the tub and began dancing about the table, at which I got considerably alarmed, when my host burst out laughing, and said they would do me no harm unless I irritated them, which of course I had no idea of doing. I therefore looked quietly on, and in a short time he called to them and they quickly leaped back into the tub. He said these snakes abounded in the cornfields which had just been reaped, but they were timorous, and never did any harm unless provoked; their bite was not dangerous, although for a time it occasioned a good deal of inflammation. I parted from my worthy host with many thanks, and then hired a large boat to take myself, servants, horses, and baggage across the gulf to Scalo, on the opposite side. We reached the landing-place about sunset, after a four hours’ voyage, and proceeded to a caravanserai close by for the night. This was a most wretched place, in the middle of a marsh filled with large frogs and mosquitoes innumerable; and what with the loud croaking of the frogs, and the bites of the mosquitoes and bugs, it was impossible to sleep with any degree of comfort. There was a party of Turks and Albanians at the caravanserai who suffered as much as we did; being unable to sleep, they revenged themselves on the kanghè or master of the caravanserai, and belaboured him with their sticks most unmercifully, and left him without paying for anything. The poor fellow complained to me bitterly; but unfortunately I could give him no redress. As soon as it was daylight we started also; I paid him handsomely, although we had scarcely anything from him, but lived on our own provisions. He was very grateful, and hoped to see me again, but I told him that was very improbable.

As we cleared the marsh and got amongst the splendid mountain scenery, in the midst of which the classic Mount Parnassus reared his majestic head, towering above the whole, the fine fresh air completely revived us. We passed Salano, surrounded by olives, and breakfasted under the trees, much to our comfort. A little before noon on the 26th of May we reached the village of Kastri, the site of the celebrated Delphos, situated at the base of Mount Parnassus. Enhanced as it is by classical recollections, the magnificence of the surrounding scenery it is impossible to describe; let it suffice to say I shall never forget it. Of the temple and spring scarcely anything remain, and a good deal must be left to the imagination. I descended into a small plastered well, said to be the ancient Castalian spring, which is situated in a cavern at the base of the mountain; here the oracle was said to have been placed, and although I was not inspired, nevertheless I could not divest myself of the sanctity of the place and of the wonderful influence which the oracle once held over the ancient world. The surrounding scenery, with Parnassus towering above the clouds, added much to my enthusiasm, which was increased by the sight of seven or eight fine eagles soaring over our heads and screaming wildly. I was delighted with the scene, and only regretted that I had not time to ascend to the summit of Olympus.

After a halt of three or four hours, during which I dined, I started in high spirits for Livadia, where we halted for the night. This was a rather large town, with extensive cotton manufactories, seated on the side of a lofty hill overlooking the Lake Copais and the fertile plain of Thebes. We got tolerable quarters here, not forgetting the ever present bugs and mosquitoes. Next day I visited the ancient Orchomenus, the remains of which are very inconsiderable, consisting of the treasury, similar to that of Mycene, but elliptical instead of circular; also of the citadel. I also visited the ancient lion of Chæronæa, which is tolerably perfect, cut out of the solid rock. Returned to Livadia to sleep.

On the 28th May I examined the cave of Trophonius. The weather was very hot, as it was the latter end of the month. I then travelled on until, passing through the miserable modern town of Thiva, for of the ancient celebrated Thebes there are no remains worthy of notice, we took a route to the north-east, and entered a defile, in the centre of which there is the beautiful tranquil Lake of Copais about four miles long, upon which some wild swans and ducks were enjoying themselves.

The next day we were off at daybreak, and on our way examined the kolavothora or outlet at the lower end of Lake Copais, which was a rough, unfinished tunnel cut through the sandstone rock; by means of this tunnel the surplus waters of the lake are discharged into the sea, otherwise the lake would overflow and totally submerge the surrounding plain. This is a considerable work, but is not carried far enough; if it were the whole lake would be laid dry, a large quantity of valuable and fertile soil would be gained, and the surrounding district rendered much more healthy. From there we proceeded through an arid, stony, undulating country to Negropont. Upon reaching the shores of the arm of the sea which divides the island of Negropont from the main, and which is scarcely 200 yards wide at the narrowest point, although very hot, I stopped to make a sketch of the beautiful scene; having done this we proceeded across the bridge which connects the island with the mainland, to the fortified town of Negropont. The town is surrounded by a strong wall with circular towers at the angles; these towers mount some heavy guns, particularly towards the sea front, where there is a casemated battery, incapable, however, of resisting the broadside of a heavy frigate. This town at the time of my visit was garrisoned by fierce, bigoted Turks, who had the utmost contempt for Christians, nevertheless with a certain respect for Europeans, particularly the English. The chief inhabitants were Greeks, whom the Turks kept in the most perfect subjection. The interior of the town consisted of narrow streets with low, mean houses, and a few mosques, Greek churches, bazaars, cafés, &c. There was very little trade, although the place is well adapted for it, as the island is rich and fertile. We got into a Greek house and made ourselves as comfortable as we could, and one of my Greek servants for greater protection requested one of my old hats, which I gave him, and of which he was very proud, although it contrasted strangely with his picturesque Greek costume.

There was nothing to be seen in the town, and as we did not appear to be welcome guests, the sooner we left the better, so the next day I started for Marathon, having sent the heavy baggage down to Athens, which I expected to reach the same evening. This renowned battle-field interested me exceedingly; it is about two miles wide, and is bounded by the sea on the east, and the ranges of Mounts Hymettus and Pentelicus on the west. I fancied in my enthusiasm that I could discover the positions of the different commanders, their manœuvres, and in fact the whole battle from beginning to end. I remained there several hours, until near sunset, and then left with Demetrius at a hand-gallop, expecting to reach Athens in the course of a couple of hours or so. We had no guide, and thought that our most direct course lay through the wood on our right, where there was a convent, which would serve as a halting-place if necessary. Off we started, and were soon in the wood, which became thicker and thicker as we advanced; the road, which at the first was only a horse-track, now became fainter and fainter; and at last we lost it altogether. The sun had now set, and the short twilight had disappeared. After floundering about the wood for some time, our horses came to a dead stop, and neither whip nor spur would make them budge an inch farther, but they backed, snorting violently, and rearing occasionally so as almost to unseat us. We could see nothing, it being quite dark, and could not imagine why our horses had come to such a dead stand; we therefore threw the reins on their necks and allowed them to have their own way; and most fortunately we did so, for they had more sense than their masters. When left to themselves they immediately turned round and went back for some distance, then turned to the left and commenced a very rapid descent, occasionally sliding for a considerable distance; sometimes losing their footing, then slipping and sliding again, so that we could hardly keep our seats. At last we came to the bottom, cleared the wood, and reached a grass plain. It was now about midnight; we did not know where we were or where the convent was; in fact, we were lost, so that there was no alternative but to picket our horses and lie down on the grass till morning. Although very tired and hungry we had nothing to eat; we accordingly wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and lay down and slept until sunrise. When we woke we found ourselves at the bottom of a perpendicular cliff above 80 feet high; we now saw the cause of our horses’ halt the night before; we were doing all we could to force them over this precipice, but by a merciful Providence their instinct saved us. We were sincerely grateful for our escape, and shuddered to think how narrowly we had missed a terrible catastrophe. We then looked for our horses, but they were nowhere to be seen; we at once concluded that they must have been stolen by robbers, who were said to be numerous in the neighbourhood. After searching everywhere for about a mile round, we at last observed them quietly feeding under a hill, and had very little difficulty in catching and mounting them. We rode to the convent which was close by, and which for the darkness we could not find the previous night. Here we got a capital breakfast, and rested, and the good monks having heard our story, congratulated us on our escape, not only from the precipice but from the robbers. We dined here also, and rode to Athens in the cool of the evening, where I took up my old quarters. Before leaving the convent I went out and took a sketch of Athens, which is about four miles distant, and the surrounding country. The view is extremely beautiful; in the front you have Athens, with its Acropolis, rising out of the plain, backed by the island of Ægina in the midst of the Ægean Sea, and beyond that by the mountains of the Morea; whilst as a foreground there is Mount Hymettus, with the convent rising out of the woods, and Pentelicus on the right. This I think is the best view of Athens.

Being again settled in Athens, I set about finishing my studies of the antiquities, and taking sketches of the neighbourhood; as the weather was very hot, being now the middle of June, I started off one morning before sunrise with Demetrius to take a sketch of the Isthmus of Corinth and the surrounding scenery, and found an excellent position which commanded the whole, near a marsh with a small lake in front. I was so absorbed in my sketch that I did not think of the malaria, which was very fatal in that place. The sketch occupied about three hours, and although I had taken some breakfast in the open air, and Demetrius the same, we both felt very ill and returned to Athens, and sent directly for the doctor, when I found that I had the malaria fever in the form of an ague. Demetrius was much worse, and towards night he became delirious, and remained so for some time. I rallied in three or four days, but remained very weak. Demetrius was confined to the house for above a fortnight. Although I could go about, still the fever clung to me more or less, and I could do very little. At this time, a singular person, a Mr. Scott, a friend of Lord Byron’s, called upon me and offered every attention; he was a shy, kind, and well-informed man, living quite shut up by himself, seldom stirring out till dusk, when he was to be seen galloping round the walls of Athens quite alone. There were also at Athens, Mr. Hodgetts Foley, Mr. Beaumont, Mr. Waddington (the late) Dean of Durham, and the Rev. Mr. Hanbury. The latter was a tall, fine-looking man, of fair complexion, with long light brown hair hanging over his shoulders, and a long beard, altogether a very striking figure; he was perpetually thinking of firearms; so that it might well be said, that instead of being a man of peace, he was a man of war.

I was now introduced to the Maid of Athens, so celebrated by Lord Byron; she certainly was a handsome and elegant young woman, about twenty, with a very pleasing manner and lively and intelligent in conversation. She had a younger sister, a very agreeable person also, but not so handsome. They lived with their parents, who made their house a very pleasant resort for strangers. By this time, the beginning of July, I was a great deal better, and was recommended to take a sea voyage for change of air. The above-named gentlemen had hired an Hydriote brig to take a month’s cruise amongst the islands, and I agreed to join them. We accordingly started about the end of the first week in July, the weather still very hot. We left the Piræus in the morning, and as there was very little wind we were becalmed off Cape Colonna, which forms the eastern promontory of the Gulf of Athens. Here we cast anchor, lowered a boat, and went on shore to visit the celebrated temple.

As we landed we were much struck by the appearance of the beautiful ruin, perched upon the summit of the promontory in solitary grandeur, and overlooking the surrounding coasts and islands, altogether forming a very imposing and charming scene.

Whilst in the midst of silent admiration at this beautiful temple, all of a sudden Hanbury cried out, “There goes an old hawk,” and fired at it immediately. This dispelled the charm, and we all burst out laughing. Having finished our exploration, we returned on board our vessel to dinner. A light breeze soon afterwards sprang up; we lay-to for a short time off the island of Syra, and the following morning got under way for Paros, a fine land-locked port, which we reached early in the day, and landed after breakfast. We then proceeded to explore the quarries from which the celebrated marble was extracted.

These quarries are situated near the top of a hill, about a mile distant from the port, with a steep broken road for an approach. The ancients, instead of opening out a good face, so that the quarries might be worked to any extent with advantage, excavated caverns in the side of the hill, and having arrived at the good sound rock, cut it out by wedges and picks in such masses as they required, so that the inside of the quarry presented a long gallery from whence the stone had been taken, worked in a very regular manner in steps one above the other, without any appearance of waste; in fact, the rock is so solid that when worked by pick and wedge no blasting is necessary; indeed, if blasting were adopted, it would entail considerable waste. At the same time, it appeared to me that if the solid rock was bared from the surface and a good length of face opened out, the pick-and-wedge system might be worked to almost any extent, with much greater advantage; and if inclined planes with railways were made to the port, and a proper embarking jetty, with cranes, carried out into deep water, so as to enable large vessels to come alongside at all times to receive their cargoes, this fine marble might be quarried and exported at a very moderate cost, infinitely below the price now charged for Carrara marble. As the Parian marble is of a beautiful white cream-colour, almost free from veins, and of an even, close texture, the sale would be immense and yield an excellent profit; and considering the enormous price of fine marble adapted for sculpture, amounting to one and two guineas and upwards per foot cube, according to the size of the block and fineness of the quality, it is astonishing that the value of these quarries has not been recognized before, and that capital has not been forthcoming to work them. The harbour is spacious, with ample depth, and well protected against all winds.

The following day we devoted to the examination of the celebrated stalactite caverns of Antiparos, a small island on the north-west of Paros, and only separated from it by a narrow strait. We accordingly went there after breakfast, and being accompanied by a sufficient number of guides with torches and wax lights, commenced the exploration. We entered by a lofty arch, and after proceeding some distance came to a magnificent chamber, from the roof of which depended the most magnificent stalactites, many of them eight and ten feet long, reflecting the light of our torches like so many diamonds. From this hall issued several galleries, some of which had not then been explored; we pursued our way through all which had been investigated, and returned, after a fatiguing walk, to the surface. This island, like that of Paros, is composed of fine, close marble, which might be developed in the same manner with considerable profit. We next set sail for Naxos; and here the whole party started in a native open boat to visit some ruins, which turned out to be not in the least worth seeing. We were first becalmed for many hours, and on our return were overtaken by a violent storm, and only escaped, as the entire coast was one wall of almost perpendicular rock, by one of the sailors accidentally remembering the vicinity of a small creek, into which the captain, a brave and skilful man, managed to steer us through the breakers. We ultimately returned to Naxos, after an absence of thirty-nine hours, by far the greater part of which we passed without food, as the ruins being only eight miles from Naxos, it was considered a mere morning’s sail. The day after our return we invited the English Consul, a Greek, and several of the principal inhabitants to dinner, and had a jovial party, for the Greeks like good cheer, and are certainly not water drinkers. The wine of Naxos, of which a considerable quantity is made, both for home and foreign consumption, is excellent; it is chiefly white wine, resembling a good deal brown sherry, and if well made is equally good. Besides wine they export Velança bark, wool, figs, currants, and other articles.

Having nothing further to see, we set sail from Naxos, with a lively and lasting recollection of our visit to the celebrated antiquities, and then steered for Scio, the ancient Chios, passing amongst numerous islands, many of them very beautiful; some were covered with woods and verdure to the water’s edge, others consisted of bold barren rocks rising perpendicularly from the water to a great height, and terminating in lofty peaks. The scene was ever changing, and we enjoyed views of wood, water, plain, and mountain, combined in the most charming manner, and of endless variety.

It was amusing also to see how well the Greek sailors managed our ship. At this time of the year strong northerly winds prevail during the day, against which we had to heat. In tacking about and manœuvring the vessel they showed considerable skill and activity.

Mitylene, where we next arrived, is a poor little place, surrounded by steep, lofty hills covered with wood almost to their summits. There is some trade of wine and oil, and wood and bark. I was much amused by a fight between my man Demetrius and a Turk who insulted him; fortunately they had neither firearms nor knives, but they used their hands in the most clumsy manner possible, and after a little time I parted them before they had done any mischief.

We spent about three days in the island, which is well worthy of a visit on account of its rich and beautiful scenery, and then returned to Scio, where our party separated.

I took lodgings, and rested a few days, for I was still very weak, and liable to attacks occasionally from the malaria fever. I had several enjoyable rides about this island. A ridge of lofty hills, extending from north to south, added greatly to the picturesqueness of the scenery. The soil is extremely rich and fertile, and a large quantity of excellent wine, besides oil, silk, fruits, grain, wood, &c., is produced. A great trade is carried on with different parts of the Mediterranean, particularly Constantinople and Smyrna. Perhaps, with the exception of Sicily, it is the richest island in the Mediterranean, and has a great number of wealthy merchants and proprietors. The port, which is formed by a small creek, defended by two stone piers, contained numerous vessels, some of considerable size, and bearing the flags of most European nations. The town was better and more substantially built than any I had hitherto seen, and there were some good bazaars, rich with the wares of the East and with European articles. The square in the centre was surrounded by handsome cafés and houses, and also one or two large mosques and Greek churches. The island was governed by a Turkish officer of rank, with a small body of janissaries and cavalry. The following year, 1821, this island suffered terribly during the Greek revolution, when the inhabitants attempted to overcome the Turks, who were too strong for them, and showed them no mercy; many were massacred, and the island was devastated. Having taken a sketch of the port, and seen everything of interest, I hired a Greek open boat, and embarked with Demetrius and all our baggage for Smyrna, where I got tolerably comfortable lodgings in a Greek house.

Smyrna is situated at the south-eastern extremity of the gulf of that name, and extends northward along the coast for about a mile and a half. The shore of the bay in front of the city is lined with a quay-wall, formed partly of wood and partly of stone, with small wooden jetties projecting from it at irregular intervals. Between this quay-wall and the houses is a road, which runs nearly along the whole sea-front. From this road innumerable narrow, crooked streets lead to the different parts of the town; many of these are so narrow that two horses can scarcely go abreast. The buildings for the most part consist of two and three stories. The bazaars were numerous, extensive, and rich, filled with all the commodities of the East, such as rick silks, plain and brocaded, shawls, jewellery, arms, leather articles, and pipes of all kinds, rough iron and pottery ware, besides tobacco, fruit, and provisions. All these bazaars were laid out in different sections, with a particular trade assigned to each, and were kept in tolerable order; the Jews and Armenians were the bankers, and had their counters or stalls, with offices behind, where they transacted business to a large amount. All the Consuls’ houses were in front of the quay, and were substantial stone buildings of considerable extent, and, with the flags of the respective nations which they represented, had a very imposing appearance. In front of the quay were moored at times several hundreds of vessels of all nations, and the immense number of boats and barges passing continually between them and the shore, formed a most busy and lively scene. There were several fine and extensive mosques, which no Christian was ever permitted to enter; also many Greek churches, with their gorgeously-bedaubed paintings representing innumerable saints. I attended the Greek service at different times, but generally came away anything but satisfied; their strong nasal tone in saying prayers, and their indifferent music and singing, greatly disappointed me. Towards the land the city was surrounded by a high wall, and at each gate was a strong guard. At the south end there was a kind of citadel on a hill, in which the Governor resided, and about half a mile from the city were the cemeteries, deeply embosomed in cypress trees. Many of the tombs were very pretty, of white, well-sculptured marble, with inscriptions from the Koran engraved upon them, and they were tastefully ornamented with garlands of flowers.

The exports from Smyrna are various, and its trade with Europe is very extensive. The articles of export are figs, raisins, silk, oil, bark, grain, &c.; figs and raisins, however, are the chief, and these are exported to a vast amount, and certainly they are the finest in the world. There are two crops, those which are ripe about the end of July, which are mostly consumed in the country and neighbourhood; they are most delicious, and extremely wholesome. The second crop is ripe about the end of September. These are gathered, dipped in water, then carefully packed in boxes and exported, chiefly to England, France, and the north of Europe, and by the time of their arrival they are covered with a rich coating of crystallized sugar, and are fit for use. At the season of shipping the figs, which I witnessed, the greatest activity is visible everywhere—the producers selling, the merchants buying, the packing-case makers splitting the wood and making up the boxes—the packers carefully stowing the figs—the men loading them into lighters, by which they are transported to the fast-sailing vessels waiting for them, which are generally clipper schooners of about 120 to 170 tons—the Consuls’ offices besieged with numerous applicants for their clearance papers—the whole combined to form a most active and industrious scene, not omitting the numberless dinners and social parties at the different hotels and coffee-houses, which are thronged with natives of all nations. I walked about and witnessed this busy scene with much delight and satisfaction. I must not omit the melons, both sweet and water, and the grapes, which were the most delicious I ever tasted. The finest raisins are those called sultanas grown at Scala Nova, a small port to the south-west of Smyrna, which I visited. The grapes from which they are made are especially delicious. The town is a poor place as regards the buildings; but, notwithstanding, there is a considerable amount of wealth. When I was there the town had recently been visited by a severe attack of plague, and many of the houses were shut up, all the inmates having died, and, having no heirs, the property belonged to the Government.

Whilst I was at Smyrna the British Consul was Mr. Werry, a fine old gentleman of about sixty-five, with considerable vigour and talent, just the man for the place. All British subjects were under his protection, amongst whom were a considerable number from the Ionian Islands, who were the most troublesome and daring vagabonds, committing all Sorts of crimes, and mixed up with every row in the place; these rows daily occurred, and bloodshed and murder not unfrequently was the consequence. Old Werry was the arbiter, and delivered his judgments with great impartiality and justice. The Turks also were very troublesome, and frequently attempted acts of great barbarity. Werry, however, was equal to the occasion, and at such times went direct to the Governor and claimed an audience; he was at once admitted and seated at the head of the divan; then he claimed protection for his British subjects; and whenever the Governor demurred, Werry drew his sword, threw his hat down on the floor, and threatened him with a British frigate to blow up the town before his eyes. The Governor would try to pacify him by offering pipes and coffee, and soothing words, which Werry treated with contempt, and nothing would do but releasing the prisoners, which was soon effected. Then Werry strode off in triumph, scarcely condescending to return the Governor’s salute. The Turks looked upon him as a madman; but they have always entertained the greatest respect for him, and allowed him to have his way, invariably calling him the mad Consul. Nevertheless, he was a most kind and worthy man, greatly respected and liked by his countrymen, the other consuls, and by the whole population. He received me with the greatest kindness and hospitality. I was a frequent visitor at his house, both in town and at his country seat, Bridjar, about nine miles distant to the south-east.

Whilst at Smyrna I made acquaintance with my countryman, Mr. (afterwards Professor) Donaldson, a M. Parke, and another French architect, who had just returned to Smyrna after a very successful exploration of some of the most remarkable ruins of the ancient cities of Asia Minor, and their portfolios were filled with drawings of these most interesting relics of antiquity. I passed several happy days in their company, and Donaldson most kindly made out for me a map by which I might be enabled to visit these remarkable ruins; I therefore determined to follow it out as nearly as possible without delay, and took leave of them with many thanks.

On the next day, having obtained the usual firman, I started, in company with my faithful servant Demetrius, to explore some of the ruins of Ionia, with a Turkish surgee, or guide, a janissary, and a couple of baggage horses, leaving my heavy baggage at Smyrna. After passing through a wild, rich, and almost uncultivated country, we reached Aiasolok, on the Meander, near the ruins of Ephesus, in the evening, and took up our quarters in a Turkish caravanserai. Demetrius soon prepared a good supper, laid our mattresses, and we both slept soundly until the morning. Every inmate was up transacting his business soon after daybreak, and I at once sallied forth to examine the ruins of Ephesus. This celebrated city was situated on the left bank of the Meander, at the base of an elevated ridge of hills. The only remains which we could distinctly make out was the amphitheatre, of the rest little could be discovered; but numerous fragments of columns, cornices, blocks of masonry, pottery, brickwork, &c., lay scattered about. I made a sketch of the whole from the best place I could find. The ruins of Ephesus formed the foreground, with the Meander and its numerous windings and the marshy valley flanked by the mountains on each side, whilst in the background was the miserable town of Aiasolok, with its fortress and mosque on a conical hill above it, backed by a wild range of mountains of considerable elevation, which completed the view. The scene was most picturesque, replete with solitary grandeur and desolation. The stillness was something remarkable; nothing was seen moving, except at rare intervals a long line of camels laden with merchandise, led by their guide, smoking his pipe, and mounted on a donkey; or here and there a solitary heron fishing amongst the reeds of the Meander, and flocks of wild ducks, which took to flight at the slightest disturbance. It was singular and melancholy to remark the ruins of the three most celebrated of the Churches of the world before me, namely, those of the ancient Greeks, Romans, and Christians, dominated over by the Mahometan mosque. I remained alone lost in contemplating this solemn and desolate scene for two or three hours, reflecting upon the vicissitudes and instability of human grandeur, and walked slowly back to the caravanserai at Aiasolok, where I took my breakfast, and then started on my journey. We slowly wound our way through the Pass between the mountains at the back of Aiasolok, and descended into the plain of the ancient Magnesia, the site of one of the seven Churches, through which two streams flow sluggishly to the sea, and reached the ruins about a couple of hours before sunset. I picketed my horse here whilst I examined the ruins, and sent Demetrius forward with the other horses and baggage to a village, where I proposed to pass the night, ordering Demetrius to have supper ready by my arrival.

The principal building is the hippodrome, which was tolerably perfect, and I took some pains to measure it accurately, which occupied me about two hours. There was nothing else worthy of remark, although there were numerous fragments of buildings scattered around. I met a Turkish Aga, handsomely accoutred and well mounted, attended by a servant, who watched my movements with considerable attention, and politely accosted me. Having finished my work, I mounted and galloped off to the place of my rendezvous as quickly as possible. Passing through the adjacent forest I observed something like hammocks slung to the trees about 10 or 12 feet from the ground; these, I learned, were the sleeping places of the shepherds who attended their flocks in the neighbourhood, and as there were no habitations near, they slept in these hammocks to keep themselves out of the influence of the malaria, which is very fatal in these parts.

About sunset I reached my destination, which was situated at the head of a valley surrounded by lofty mountains. There was a cluster of miserable mud huts, but no place fit to sleep in, so Demetrius was obliged to take possession of an open shed, with a bare mud hut adjoining, in which he placed the baggage, spread my mattress in the shed, and laid out the table attached to my canteen in the open air in front, upon which he had got ready a tolerably good supper. This canteen, it should be mentioned, was a very smart affair; all the utensils were plated on the outside and gilt on the inside, and, being quite new, had a very stylish and attractive appearance: it was much finer than I wanted, and had been sent out from England by my brother. No sooner had I sat down to supper, than I was surrounded by a considerable number of Kurds, wild-looking fellows, armed to the teeth, who had come from their own country with their flocks, for the rich pasture which this country afforded. Their encampment was close by. They appeared very friendly, and admired my turn-out with great satisfaction, thinking, no doubt, that it was real gold and silver. I treated them very courteously, gave them wine, coffee, and tobacco, for which they appeared very thankful, and we parted, as I thought, excellent friends. It was a fine summer evening, and soon after became dark. The Kurds retired with many thanks, and being tired I lay down for the night on my mattress without taking off my clothes, whilst Demetrius and the other servants were in front, and the horses picketed before them, having only their girths slackened, so that we were ready for a start at any alarm. I examined my pistols, my men did the same, and we all retired; but I was very restless and feverish, and could not sleep, although excessively weary. I was continually roused by the barking of the great mastiffs which were kept by the shepherds to drive off the wolves and panthers in the vicinity. At last, towards midnight, I fell fast asleep. I awoke all of a sudden to find two fierce-looking Kurds by my side, one with a pistol close to my head, the other flaring a lighted torch in my face, with one hand thrust under my pillow, to steal my purse and valuables. I sat up directly and secured my pistols; seeing this, the fellow with the pistol pulled the trigger, but fortunately it only flashed in the pan. I at once fired. I think I hit him somewhere, for he uttered a loud cry, and instantly took to flight with his companion. My men awoke at the noise, jumped up directly, and fired also. By this time we were surrounded by the Kurds, and had a hand-to-hand fight for a few minutes, when I called to my men to mount and gallop off as quickly as possible. I did the same, and off we went at full speed, leaving the baggage behind. We could do no other, for by this time the whole tribe was on the alert; they came running to the help of their companions, and commenced firing at us. Fortunately it was hardly daylight, and they could not see us clearly. In order to avoid the shots that whistled past us, we crouched down upon our saddles, and soon got out of their reach. They did not follow us, either being deterred by the stout resistance we had made, or being satisfied with the booty which they had got. To have remained longer would have been madness, for we should soon have been overpowered, and probably all murdered, as there were at least thirty or forty of them, and we were only five. We never pulled bridle until we had made about six or eight miles; it was then broad daylight, and the sun was just rising above the horizon; we continued, however, at a smart pace, passing through a rich and partially cultivated valley, until, about seven o’clock in the morning, we reached a small town, where the Aga, or Turkish Governor of the district resided. Here we stopped at the caravanserai, tolerably tired with our morning’s ride of about seventeen miles, and heartily thankful for our providential escape. After a good wash, and breakfast, I sent my janissary, a gallant fellow, to demand an audience of the Aga, which he granted at midday. I went accordingly, showed my firman, and then related my story by means of an interpreter. The Aga was a fine-looking man, about forty, surrounded by his divan and a number of well-armed Tartars and guards. He listened to my tale with the utmost gravity and attention, and then burst out into a violent rage at the indignity which I had suffered, and said that such an insult to an English gentleman had never occurred before in his district, and he would lose no time in bringing the offenders to justice. He was most particular in inquiring as to the place where the offence had occurred, and the number and description of my assailants, and then ordered a strong body of well-armed and well-mounted Tartars to the place, with strict orders to bring them to him immediately; in the meantime he ordered coffee and pipes to be served, and offered me any money I required. He also asked me where I was going. I told him that I was going southwards for two or three days. He then said that upon my return he should be happy to see me again, when he would have all the culprits in custody for me, and if I could identify them he would have their heads taken off directly. I took my leave, with many thanks for his courtesy; to which he replied, with the greatest civility, that he was too happy to be of any service to an Englishman. I left soon afterwards, and crossed another mountain ridge, passing through a wild, desolate country, and descended into a fertile valley, through which a small river wound its tortuous course. On the way I examined the ruins of the ancient Priene, seated on a hill on the right side of the valley. Here I saw considerable remains of some temples of the Ionic order, besides the relics of numerous other buildings, which it was very difficult to define. This city was surrounded by a strong wall of massive masonry, considerable remains of which were visible. We crossed the river by a ford, and took up our quarters for the night amongst the ruins of Miletus. There were only a few scattered wretched hovels in the vicinity, but none of them fit for our accommodation; I therefore preferred the open air, and determined to bivouac amongst the ruins; as I had already provided myself and my people with mattresses and coverlets, and a good supply of provisions, I felt myself comfortable and independent. I was roused about daybreak by something tugging hard at my pillow; upon jumping up I descried a large wolf close by, with several more near him. I immediately laid hold of a stout stick, and dealt him a heavy blow on the head. This aroused Demetrius and the servants, who fired several shots at the other wolves, and they all scampered off as quickly as possible, so that we had no further molestation.

Early in the morning I set about examining the ruins, of which there were but few; the principal was the theatre, but even of this, except some massive walls, there was little remaining. I made a sketch, with the Lake Bofi and the mountains behind it for a background, the whole forming a very beautiful picture. We then went on to Yirondi, which we reached about four o’clock in the afternoon, and got comfortable quarters in the caravanserai. The next morning I proceeded to examine the ruins of the celebrated Temple of Apollo Didymæus. This is one of the largest and most magnificent specimens of the Ionic order, and well worthy of the attention of every traveller who takes an interest in architecture. I was much pleased with and instructed by it. Of the front columns several were still standing, and numerous fragmentary blocks of pillars, entablature, pediment, and substructure lay scattered all around, the whole being of the most elaborate workmanship. When entire it must have been a very magnificent work of art, as the remains evidently show.

After finishing my examination, I determined to return to Smyrna as quickly as possible, having much to do before my tour was completed. I accordingly started soon after midday, although the weather was very hot, and the next day I sent my janissary to request an audience of the Aga, which he granted me at midday. He then said that he had captured all the Kurds, and ordered them to be brought from the prison. Accordingly the whole of them, amounting to about thirty in number, were produced, and marched before me slowly, when the Aga asked me if I could recognize any of them, in which case he would take care that justice should be administered. I was pretty well aware what this justice would be, namely, that their heads would be taken off if I recognized them. I certainly remembered several of their faces, but having been robbed only of a few articles, worth about eighty pounds, I did not consider that the punishment of death could be put in comparison with my loss, although it is true they would have murdered me if they could. I therefore resolved to save them, as they had already suffered sufficiently by being confined in a miserable dungeon with scarcely any food for four days. They were accordingly discharged, having been, as I understood, pretty well punished, in addition to their imprisonment, by heavy fines, and perhaps sundry stripes into the bargain, so that it was not likely that they would attack an Englishman again. The Tartars had recovered several of my lost things; for this I made them a handsome acknowledgment, with which they were much pleased, and gave me many thanks. I also rendered my best thanks to the Aga, and we parted upon the most amicable terms.

Having returned to Smyrna, I there met my friend Scott, whom I had previously known at Athens, and we resolved to proceed at once to Constantinople by land. The first night we reached the modern Magnesia, a large town situated on a plain, surrounded by rude crenellated walls, inhabited chiefly by a Turkish population, and containing nothing worthy of remark. The following morning we proceeded through an open undulating country, very fertile, but, as usual, only partially cultivated. Here and there were extensive plains, some only tenanted by shepherds tending their large flocks of goats, cattle, and sheep, others growing cotton, maize, corn, beans, and tobacco, occasionally interspersed with vineyards; the inhabitants looked poor and miserable, and the villages and towns wore the same appearance.

After a long, hard day’s ride of eighteen hours, we came in sight of Broussa, the ancient capital of the Turks. The surrounding country was rich and beautiful, and covered with luxurious gardens, intermixed with comfortable villas and houses; the city, with its numerous mosques and towering minarets, lay in the foreground; whilst the magnificent Mount Olympus, above 7000 feet high, rearing his head above the clouds, formed a noble background. When within a mile of the city I felt very tired and thirsty. Just then a countryman approached, and offered us some bunches of magnificent grapes, which I accepted with much gratification, and gave him a handsome present. I devoured them voraciously. We reached the caravanserai at sunset, and as there were a great number of travellers, we got but poor accommodation. I awoke about three in the morning with a violent diarrhœa, which continually increased, until I became so exhausted that I could scarcely move. It turned out to be dysentery, and my friends considered that it must end fatally. Before leaving England I had consulted my friend, the late distinguished Dr. James Johnson, as to what was to be done under similar circumstances, and he recommended large doses of calomel as the only and best means of cure. I had provided myself with this, and took it accordingly, with the assistance of which I rallied considerably, and we then determined to proceed at once to Mondania, on the shores of the Sea of Marmora, where we should find much better accommodation. Off, therefore, we went, without being able to see anything further of the beauties of Broussa. I was much fatigued with the journey, and immediately after our arrival took to my bed. Here the dysentery came on more violently than ever. I again had recourse to a large dose of calomel, and ordered Demetrius to get some chicken broth as soon as possible. This the good fellow got ready without delay. I swallowed as much as I could, and then fell back on my mattress perfectly exhausted. I was delirious for four or five hours; but at the end of that time I broke out into a violent perspiration; the calomel had done its work effectually, and I became conscious and tranquil, although very weak. The disease, however, had been arrested, and I recovered rapidly.

I reached Constantinople at last by sea, and after a day or two of repose I regained my strength and sallied forth with a janissary to examine the Moslem capital. I first paid a visit to our ambassador, Mr. Frere. He received me most kindly, and asked me to dinner the next day. The entertainment was sumptuous, and I spent a delightful evening. I was afterwards frequently invited to this most hospitable house, and always received the same kind attention, ever returning from it both amused and instructed. Mr. Frere was a very accomplished, unassuming gentleman, ever ready to protect his countrymen; he discharged his onerous duties in such a manner as to gain the respect of the Turks (which was very difficult in those days), as well as that of the corps diplomatique and foreigners of every nation, and the respect and affection of his own countrymen. I also frequently visited the hospitable house of our worthy and most excellent Consul, General Cartwright. He was a man above the common order, and no one was better calculated to deal with the Turks; frank, open, courageous, honest, and decided, understanding thoroughly the people he had to deal with, and never flinching from his duties, firmly upholding his countrymen when right, but no less inflexible in refusing his support when wrong. He was hospitable and sociable to a degree, yet withal never neglected the least of his duties, and was universally respected and beloved.

Constantinople has been often described, and is now so well known that I need not weary my reader with any detailed description. But as I was there at a time when the reforms of the Sultan Mahmoud had not long commenced; when the janissaries were still in existence; when the old Turkish bigotry, insolence, and fanaticism was at its height; when the fierce vigour which had formerly carried out its conquests was nearly extinct, and European ideas and civilization had not yet dawned; when, in short, the Government was most corrupt, and the whole Turkish population sunk in indolence and sensuality, a few rough notes of what I then saw may perhaps not be unacceptable.

Amongst the sights during my short stay was the marriage of one of the Sultan’s daughters, which was made the occasion of great fêtes, and amongst others a grand tournament or display of djerid. This consisted of a number of horsemen extremely well mounted, each armed with a short blunted dart, which they hurled at one another, and those who received the greatest number of hits were declared to be losers The game was very exciting, and the display of horsemanship and the activity and skill of the riders were worthy of the highest admiration.

There was also another sight equally new and beautiful, the sultan proceeding in state to the mosque of St. Sophia during the Bairam. It was a very imposing spectacle, all the actors in it being clothed in the ancient picturesque costume—long flowing robes of endless variety of brilliant colours, furs, and turbans of every shape, those worn by the Sultan and his great officers mounted in gold and silver and studded with precious stones. The Sultan’s body guard consisted of about one hundred fine-looking men wearing dresses of the most brilliant colours, richly ornamented with gold embroidery, and having on their heads helmets of finely polished brass, surmounted by a crescent of the same metal, being three to four feet long, on the top of which were fixed plumes of the finest white ostrich feathers, flowing on all sides. The Sultan, clothed in a splendid dark sable pelisse, with a green turban ornamented with the plumes of a bird of paradise, set in a most costly diamond aigrette, rode in the midst of them, mounted on a magnificent pure white Arabian charger, covered with housings richly embroidered with gold. He was a very handsome, stern, dignified-looking man, about fifty, with sharp, piercing black eyes, moustache, and beard; his nose short and well developed, and a medium-sized, well-defined mouth; his whole appearance was very stately, grave, and solemn, expressing majesty, firmness, and courage. As the procession moved slowly, silently, and majestically along, through a dense mass of spectators, everyone was impressed with awe and admiration, and certainly it was one of the most unique and finest sights of the kind I had ever witnessed. I afterwards saw a review of several thousand of the Ottoman troops, consisting of infantry, cavalry, and artillery. These, though inferior in discipline and mechanical contrivances to European armies, nevertheless expressed a degree of fierce and enthusiastic courage, mixed with a thorough contempt of Christians, which inspired them with the confidence that they could overwhelm all their enemies, and plant the crescent over the cross with triumphant success.

Constantinople proper was inhabited chiefly by Turks imbued with the most bigoted hatred and contempt for Christians, and it was attended with not a little danger to go amongst them. As I walked boldly along I was frequently saluted by fierce scowls and curses loud and deep, and sometimes with a small shower of stones, which but for the presence of the janissary, whom they feared, might have been attended with serious consequences. These janissaries, a certain number of whom were attached to every embassy for their protection, were called pig-keepers by their comrades, who considered them as an inferior class. The streets for the most part were narrow, crooked, and dirty to a degree; here and there was a fine stone mansion, inhabited by some Turkish grandee, but this presented only a dead stone wall to the street. The population of the city generally looked poor, miserable, and oppressed. I tried to visit the mosques, but the fanaticism of the Ottomans was so great at that time that no Christian was permitted to enter, and I was more than once, when trying to penetrate the outer court of one of them, driven away by a shower of stones. On the arrival of a fresh ambassador from any Christian court a special firman, allowing him to visit the mosques, was issued, when the different strangers in Constantinople at the time were allowed to accompany him. The ambassador and suite on these occasions were always accompanied by a strong guard of janissaries, for protection. It happened that a little time previous to my visit the new Russian ambassador, Count Stroganoff, arrived, and obtained a special firman to visit the mosques, when he was accompanied by two or three hundred of his own countrymen and other strangers, attended by a strong guard of janissaries. Whilst in one of these edifices, a Frenchman, it is said, spat upon the pavement; immediately a cry of horror was uttered by the priests and assistants, the mosque was defiled; the alarm was raised, which spread like wildfire, and the place was quickly surrounded by a vast multitude of angry Turks, many of whom rushed into the mosque, shouting for vengeance on the infidels who had desecrated their temple, and attacking them with the most savage ferocity. The ambassador and his followers were obliged to defend themselves and fight for their lives. The doors were shut, and there they were obliged to remain until the Government sent another strong body of janissaries to rescue them from their perilous situation, which they did with the greatest difficulty; and whilst they were escorted back through the streets, they were assailed with yells, curses, and missiles of every description; many were seriously hurt, and they had some difficulty in escaping with their lives.

At Bouyukderé I spent several days at a comfortable Greek hotel, and was much amused at seeing two or three grave Turks enter the hotel one evening and engage a private room. For a time everything went on quietly. Then came a most tremendous noise, and shouts of all kinds; in fact, they were getting very drunk. Then all was silent, and I imagined they were senseless; but shortly after, to my great surprise, they sallied forth and entered their boat apparently quite sober. I afterwards asked the Greek waiter whether the water they had drunk had rendered them so noisy. He replied, laughing, “No; they had two bottles of rum apiece.” He said, farther, that it was their constant practice, especially during the Ramadan, to go prowling about in search of some quiet place where they might indulge. Knowing this, some of the proprietors of Greek inns, after closing the front door, left a private one open, and allowed none but Turks to enter, not even appearing themselves when they did. The Turks, seeing the coast clear, would enter, and presently find a room in which was a table covered with good things, both to eat and drink, whereupon they helped themselves liberally, and after leaving a handsome donation on the table, walked out as quietly as they came in, satisfied with having cheated their religion and satisfied their appetites without anyone being the wiser.

Constantinople is supplied with water from five reservoirs, situated on the western base of the Little Balkan Mountains, and communicating with the city by stone conduits. They were originally built by the Byzantine emperors, and their preservation was enforced by repeated imperial edicts, some of which are still preserved in the archives of Constantinople; a heavy fine was imposed, amounting to a pound of gold for every ounce of water taken from these reservoirs by any individual without express permission. The water for Pera is supplied from the southern reservoirs, near Bagtche, by means of a conduit, upon which are placed at certain intervals hollow stone columns, called sous terrasi, which rise to the level of the source from which the water is taken; the water in the conduit rises up these pillars nearly to the same level, and thus acts as a safety valve, overcoming the friction of the water in the conduit, forcing it forward to the level required at Pera, and so relieving the pressure upon the upper surface of the conduit, which otherwise would be blown up through such a long line, had it not a vent to relieve the pressure. This ingenious idea was the invention of the Turks, and was adopted for the purpose of saving the expense of the lofty stone aqueducts used by the Romans and their successors. Some expedient of this kind became inevitable, as they had no iron pipes large or strong enough. In modern times a similar device, called the stand-pipe, is occasionally employed to relieve the pumping engines; but such is not necessary along the line of the conduit, because the material of the conduit is made of cast iron of such dimensions that it is strong enough to more than amply resist the pressure of the highest column of water which it may be necessary to employ.

The whole of the sides of the mountains where the reservoirs are placed used formerly to be covered with dense woods, and when I visited the reservoirs in October, 1820, nothing could be more beautiful; but after the massacre of the janissaries, about a year and a half subsequent to my visit, a remnant took possession of the forest, and committed intolerable acts of brigandage, until the Ottoman Government, thoroughly roused, surrounded the entire forest with troops, and destroyed it and its inmates together. There is also a fine aqueduct, but there can be very little doubt that proper means are not taken during the rainy season to preserve and store the water nature then places at their disposal. If this were done, the serious evil of drought would be avoided; and means are now being taken to ensure a more constant and better supply. This scarcity of water, for the same reason, has been felt in London and other great cities. We shall continue to suffer from these droughts until men come to understand that only a certain and known quantity of water falls upon the earth, and that at certain periods; and that it is necessary to store the surplus waters to supply the deficiency of the dry season. This great truth is fortunately now beginning to be fully appreciated in the civilized world, and it is to be hoped that we shall no longer hear the cry of scarcity of water.

On leaving Constantinople I took passage in a native vessel for Alexandria. Passing down the Hellespont, at its narrowest point I remarked the positions selected by Xerxes for erecting his famous double bridge, or rather two bridges, one taking a north-west and the other a north-easterly direction. An ancient author, Polyænus, says “that they connected together a vast number of ships of different kinds—some long vessels of fifty oars, others three-banked galleys—to the number of three hundred and sixty, on the side towards the Euxine Sea, and three hundred and thirteen on that of the Hellespont. The former of these were placed transversely; but the latter, to diminish the strain upon the cables, in the direction of the current. When these vessels were firmly fastened to each other, they were secured on each side by anchors of great strength—on the upper side, towards the winds which set in from the Euxine; on the lower side, towards the Ægean Sea, on account of the south and south-east winds. They left, however, openings in three places sufficient to afford a passage for the light vessels which might have occasion to sail into the Euxine or from it. Having done this, they extended cables from the shore, stretching them upon large capstans of wood. For this purpose they did not employ a number of separate cables, but united two of white flax with two of byblos. These were alike in thickness, and apparently so in goodness; but those of flax were in proportion much the more solid, weighing not less than a talent to every cubit. When the passage was thus secured, they sawed out rafters of wood, making their length equal to the space required for the bridge. These they laid in order across upon the extended cables, and then bound them fast together. They next brought unwrought wood, which they placed very regularly upon the rafters. Over all they threw earth, which they raised to a proper height, and finished the whole by a fence on each side, that the horses and other beasts of burthen might not be terrified by looking down upon the sea.”

This bridge of boats, for such it may be properly called, resembled materially those constructed by the moderns. The addition of the suspension cables, which connected both ends of the bridge with the shore, must have contributed greatly to its strength. The floating bridges used in modern warfare, however, have this advantage over those constructed by the ancients (of which that devised by Xerxes was a very favourable specimen); the boats or pontoons upon which such bridges are now erected are specially constructed for the purpose, and an army on the march can carry these pontoons, like other baggage, and when necessary a bridge can be built in a very short time. When the army has passed the river the bridge can readily be taken to pieces and the materials transported elsewhere, to serve the same purpose again. An enemy pursuing, unless provided with similar appliances for constructing a bridge, would find his farther progress barred; but in the floating bridges used by the ancients it was possible for the pursued to erect a bridge that would be used also by their pursuers. The floating bridge by which Darius crossed the Bosphorus is said to have been similar to that contrived by Xerxes, although no precise record exists to enable us to ascertain exactly how it was fashioned. Alexander adopted a different course; taking advantage of such vessels as he could obtain on the spot, by rowing or sailing he crossed the particular river or strait which opposed his march. We have a remarkable example of a floating bridge on the river Douro opposite to Oporto, but the bridge erected by Xerxes seems rather to have resembled that thrown over the Adour.

The only incident that occurred on our voyage to Alexandria was furnished by a Turkish Aga, one of the passengers, who came on board in considerable state. His attendants spread his carpet on deck, that he might attend to his devotions. However, the sea was so rough that directly he appeared on deck he lost his balance and rolled over and over, which greatly hurt his dignity. He was very much enraged, and, to revenge himself, immediately set to work belabouring the unfortunate captain with his cane, saying that it was entirely his fault for giving them a foul wind, though all the time it was blowing most favourably, though rather too fresh for the Aga’s comfort. I burst out laughing, but soon checking myself, interceded for the poor captain and got him off, while the Aga retired to his cabin and delivered himself over to seasickness.

The situation chosen for the city of Alexandria, which Alexander the Great founded as the emporium of the Mediterranean after the destruction of Tyre, was peculiarly favourable, for the seven mouths of the Nile at that time existing were ill adapted for the safe passage of large vessels; all of them were more or less obstructed by bars, upon which during the stormy seasons there was a heavy surf, so that it was extremely dangerous to attempt their navigation. Alexander therefore resolved to adopt a situation totally independent of the Nile, and accordingly selected Alexandria, as being the farthest point from the mouths of that river, and the least affected by the alluvium brought down by it, and that which is carried along the shore by the western littoral current.

At the time the present situation was selected there was a small island not far from the shore. This island he connected with the mainland by means of an embankment faced with masonry, thus forming a double harbour, namely, one on the eastern side, which was protected by the promontory bounding the bay; and one on the western side, protected by a reef of rocks running in a westerly direction from the original island, and the projecting point of the bay to the west, so that the western harbour was tolerably well shielded on all sides, with the exception of the entrances between the rocks on the north; but through these only a comparatively small amount of swell can penetrate. It contains space for all the vessels that are likely to frequent this port, and the accommodation may be further increased, to almost any extent required, by making docks inland. It is true that in order to connect this port with the Nile above the bars and the interior country, a canal or other means of communication was requisite. A canal at that time was the only effectual method known, and this was accordingly adopted, and was made to the Canopic branch of the Nile, skirting along the shores of the Lake Mareotis for a considerable distance; but it was frequently filled up by the sand blown in from the desert and the adjacent shores. This sand was as constantly removed, and the communication between Alexandria and the Nile more or less imperfectly preserved. In 1851 the Pacha completed a line of railway between Alexandria and Cairo, and thus got rid of the uncertainty and expense of maintaining the canal and the river navigation. This railway was made under the direction of the late eminent engineer, Mr. Robert Stephenson, and now a perfect and economical communication is kept up by this means between Alexandria, Cairo, and the interior.

The eastern harbour of Alexandria, the water being very shallow, is now scarcely used except for the small coasting vessels; but it does not appear that in either the eastern or western harbours there is any material tendency to shoal.

When I was there, Alexandria, although possessing considerable trade, was but a poor place compared to the present city, and all the business of shipping, transhipping, and storing of goods was carried on in a very rude and costly manner, which is now materially changed for the better.

Besides Pompey’s Pillar, the other important relic is Cleopatra’s Needle, then as now lying prostrate. This needle was given to the British army, and a large subscription, amounting it is said to about 20,000l., was raised to transport it to England, and there to erect it in some conspicuous place in the metropolis, as a trophy of the signal success of the British army. For some reason or other, never properly explained, this has never been done, although seventy years have elapsed since the money was subscribed. When I returned from Upper Egypt, in the month of March, 1821, I found that the English Government, after repeated applications, had sent the ‘Spry,’ sloop of war, commanded by Captain Boswell, with my old friend and schoolfellow, Captain Wright, of the Royal Engineers, to report upon the cost, and the best plan for bringing Cleopatra’s Needle to England; but this all ended in nothing being done, although Captain Wright’s report was very favourable, both as to the cost and feasibility.

On reaching Cairo I had an audience with the celebrated or notorious pasha, Mehemet Ali. He received me with great dignity and civility, and said that the English were his best friends, upon which I could not help saying to myself, Thank God we are not his subjects! He was no doubt a very remarkable man—cool, determined, able, and courageous. He reduced the turbulent rulers and Bedouin tribes of Egypt to subjection, and procured a degree of tranquillity and peace for the oppressed inhabitants which they had not enjoyed for many generations; and if he plundered them himself, he would allow no one else to do so. Nevertheless, one cannot but be horrified at the atrocities with which all this was accompanied and accomplished. While here I saw a few Mamelukes who had escaped the massacre of 1809, and who were permitted to reside here. I was much struck by their martial air, their richly-embroidered costumes, and superbly mounted pistols and scimitars. As a body they were nearly exterminated, the survivors being allowed to subsist on the little property saved from the wreck. Egypt, like Constantinople, has since been so well described, and is now so well known (though at that time my journey to the second cataract was deemed extraordinary), that it is unnecessary for me to go over the same ground.

I hired a khangé, or small boat, manned by a reis, or captain, and eight rowers, with a tolerably comfortable raised cabin behind, divided into two parts, in neither of which, however, could I stand upright. But by this time I had become pretty well accustomed to the usages of the country, and my limbs being tolerably supple, I did not much mind it. I engaged the khangé at so much per month, I finding provisions for myself and servants, the reis agreeing to do the same for himself and his crew. Having stocked my boat with everything we were likely to require for four months, I embarked at Bouloe, accompanied by my servant Demetrius and a janissary. We came to anchor every night near the most convenient village, and started next morning soon after daybreak. At midday I halted for an hour, and sometimes more, in order to allow the captain and his crew to take their dinner comfortably, whilst I and my servants took ours. When the wind was unfavourable the crew were obliged to row or track the boat against the current; at such times I used to land and walk along the bank, gun in hand, exploring the adjacent antiquities or the surrounding country; and I found that I could easily keep pace with the boat. Where there was any object particularly worthy of remark, I had the boat moored as near to the bank as I could, whilst I went ashore, examined, sketched, and measured the objects in question at my leisure, and in this way I took measurements of all the edifices of any note. When there were none, I used to indulge in a sporting excursion, and found ample amusement. I not only procured many interesting objects of natural history, but shot numerous wild fowl, that were a very welcome addition to my table. Thus I passed a very agreeable time. Never idle for a moment—always employed, either for instruction or amusement; and my whole time was my own. I carried my house with me; and when there was nothing interesting on the route, and I had filled my book with sketches, if my journal was in arrear, I used to remain in the boat posting it up, whilst we were sailing, tracking, or rowing.

On my way up a sad accident deprived me of the services of my faithful attendant—I may say friend—Demetrius. We met a boat, having on board the O’Conor Don, Captain Groding, and another, coming down. They hailed us, and as they were short of provisions, I gave them a liberal supply, and invited them to dinner, the two crews regaling themselves and firing feux de joie at the same time. Suddenly a tremendous explosion, followed by a loud cry, was heard, and hastening on deck I found poor Demetrius covered with blood from two deep wounds in the throat and breast, his pistol having burst in his hand. At first I thought it would have been fatal, the effusion of blood was so great. I succeeded, however, in tying up the wounds and stopping the hemorrhage. It was then a question what should be done with him, as I was not surgeon enough to cure him, and no advice was to be had. In this emergency my new friends were so kind as to offer to take him to Cairo, where he could be properly attended to. I gladly accepted the offer, and supplied him with a sufficient sum of money, and requested them to place him in charge of the Consul, with directions to procure the best medical advice, for which I was of course responsible. Independently of the accident, I was much grieved to part with him, and was at first greatly at a loss for his services; but my janissary, an Italian turned Mussulman, and who spoke Arabic very well, and was not a bad cook, cheerfully consented to do what he could; and the reis also, a very civil fellow, as well as his crew, did all in their power to compensate me for the loss of Demetrius, so that after a short time we managed between us to get along pretty well.

I will only add one more incident, because it seems to show that the serpents used by serpent-charmers are not always deprived of their fangs, as is usually supposed, but that there is some real secret which renders them harmless or powerless. I was measuring the Temple of Edfou, when I saw a peculiarly venomous serpent come out of its hole, whilst an Arab boy who stood by fixed his eye steadily upon it the moment he saw it, the reptile fixing his eyes on the boy. The lad began waving his hands gently up and down, humming a peculiar tune in a low, monotonous tone. The serpent seemed to be charmed, and lay perfectly still, listening to and keeping its eyes attentively on the boy, who, finding that he had charmed it, was about to secure it; but at this I was so horrified, that I took up a large stone and killed the reptile. The boy was very angry, and assailed me with the most vehement gestures and imprecations, at which I laughed heartily. I afterwards learned that he was the son of a serpent-charmer, and was collecting these reptiles for his father.

In proceeding along the banks of the Nile, I observed that the land inclined from the margin of the river to the base of the adjacent hills. This is nothing more than might have been expected, as it is usual under all similar circumstances, and is caused by the periodical inundation. Thus, whenever the river rises above the margin, the current naturally diminishes in velocity as it encroaches on the banks, and to a certain extent becomes stagnant, and then deposits the alluvial matter with which the waters are charged; and as the water spreads farther on both sides from the main body of the river, it becomes clearer, and contains less alluvial matter. This is a wise provision of nature, for it enables the waters to extend a long way, and thus to irrigate a great extent of land. In order to ensure this irrigation more effectually, it is only necessary to keep open sufficient channels, which may be done with facility. But suppose this was not the case; suppose the land farthest off silted up first, then it would be necessary, for the purpose of irrigation, to raise the water by artificial means at considerable extra cost, to irrigate those lands farthest from the river. However, in process of time, as the land rises both at the sides of the river and the parts more remote from it where they have attained the utmost level of the floods, recourse must be had to art to irrigate the lands, otherwise their fertility and cultivation must cease, as the quantity of rainfall in the lower valley of the Nile, as it passes through Egypt, is comparatively trifling; in fact, the fertility of the country depends almost entirely upon the floods.

It is very probable that these waters might be utilized to a much greater extent by establishing large reservoirs in the adjacent valleys, which would be filled during the rising of the floods; and when these latter have subsided, the stored-up water could be discharged during the dry seasons for irrigation, navigation, and numerous other purposes. According to the present system, a vast quantity of water is allowed to waste, and the means of cultivating a large additional tract of country, now a desert, is lost. This object might be carried still farther by improving the channel of the Nile up to the great lakes of Albert and Victoria Nyanza, for the most part now a marshy, pestiferous district; this will very probably be done, as the subject becomes better understood; indeed, it is surprising how little the advantages which nature offers us in this respect are turned to account.

The delta of the Nile, like other rivers of the same class and magnitude under similar circumstances, advances outwards into the Mediterranean, and in proportion as it moves forward, the depth of water increases, and the width of the delta becomes greater, so that it requires a larger quantity of alluvium to maintain its progress, which becomes necessarily slower—that is, as far as concerns the alluvium brought down by the Nile. But then it must be observed, that as the delta proceeds outward, the stagnation produced by the protrusion of its apex into the Mediterranean causes a greater accumulation of alluvial matter to be deposited on both sides of the apex, and consequently two great bays are formed, one on either side, although the shores of these bays necessarily do not advance so rapidly as the centre portion. In proportion as the several branches of the Nile advance seaward, so their courses become lengthened, and consequently the total fall or inclination of the current becomes diminished, so that it cannot keep them all open; and hence, out of the eight branches or mouths of the Nile which existed in ancient times, only two now remain—namely, the Damietta and Rosetta mouths, and these are slowly deteriorating.

Whilst upon this part of the subject, it may be advisable to make a few remarks about the Suez Canal. This great work consists of an open cutting or trench from the Bay of Pelusium (Port Said) to the Red Sea at Suez, a total length of 99 miles, 196 feet wide at top, 72 feet wide at bottom, and 26 feet deep, with side slopes of 2 to 1. At the Mediterranean end there is a rise of tide or variation in the surface of the sea of from 1 foot to 2 feet, and at the Suez end from 2 feet at neaps to 6 feet at springs.

On the Mediterranean the entrance to the canal is protected by an artificial harbour composed of two piers carried from the shore. The western pier is carried out 2400 yards in a straight line, pointing towards the north, it then inclines slightly to the east for 330 yards, so that the total length of the west breakwater or pier is 2730 yards, or 8190 feet. The eastern breakwater or pier is carried out from the shore at a distance of 1530 yards from the commencement of the western pier, and is extended in a northerly direction 2070 yards, where it terminates at 760 yards from extremity of the west pier, which constitutes the entrance. Thus the two piers enclose a space of 500 acres, with a depth within of 26 feet. This harbour is said to be well protected against the prevailing or north-west winds.

This outer harbour, called Port Said, is connected with extensive quays and basins within, from whence the canal proceeds across the isthmus. At 52 miles from Port Said there is Lake Timsah; also Lake Ismaila and the Bitter Lakes, at 57 miles from Port Said. These Bitter Lakes cover a surface of about 100,000 acres, and will always ensure a considerable draught or current from the Red Sea, to compensate for the large amount of evaporation which is constantly going on, particularly during the summer season, and is said to amount to about 250,000,000 cubic feet daily. In order to supply fresh water to Suez, Ismaila, and Port Said, a considerable channel has been made from the Nile, at Cairo, to Suez and Ismaila, and a double line of cast-iron pipes between Ismaila and Port Said, with pumping engines of the requisite power at the former place.

The entrance to the Suez end of the canal is formed by an extensive double embankment through the shoal water, increasing gradually from a width of 72 feet at bottom, to 980 feet, where there is an open tidal dock, with 26 feet depth at low water.

This is no doubt a very extraordinary performance, rendered remarkable for the vast amount of capital which has been raised by a single individual—not an engineer—and the wonderful energy and perseverance with which he has accomplished it, opposed by innumerable obstacles, political and financial, which would have daunted and overwhelmed any person of ordinary physical powers. Although as an engineering work it is encountered by no unusual difficulties in the execution—being simply a matter of digging and dredging upon a vast scale—yet it certainly entitles M. Lesseps and his officers to the greatest credit.

Having now generally described the canal, let us consider how far natural obstacles exist which should cause any doubts as to its being possible to maintain the canal at such an expense as will enable it to produce something like a reasonable profit upon the capital expended in making it.

These obstacles may be enumerated as follows:

Firstly. The alluvial matter brought down by the Nile, and that from the prevailing littoral westerly current in the Mediterranean.

Secondly. The sands driven by the north-westerly winds into Port Said.

Thirdly. The sands driven into Suez by the southerly winds.

Fourthly. The sands driven into the canal from the surrounding deserts by the kamsin, or south-east winds.

Fifthly. From the great evaporation which will take place, and the consequent requirement of a corresponding supply of water both from the Mediterranean and the Red Sea.

Sixthly. Whether the expenses which must necessarily be incurred in overcoming these obstacles will amount to such a sum as will render the canal practically useless, that is to say, that it will not be worth the while of the Company to maintain it.

Before considering these important questions, it will be right to investigate the natural causes which have formed the Isthmus of Suez. I think we may conclude that Africa was originally an island, and that by degrees the waters of the Red Sea, driven in by the southerly winds, and those of the Mediterranean, driven by the northerly winds, brought with them a great quantity of alluvial matter; at the junction of these waters the currents would be destroyed, and the alluvium with which the waters were charged would be deposited and form a bank or bar, which by degrees rose above the ordinary level of the sea. This bank, once formed, would continually increase, not only from the alluvium brought in by the seas, but also from the sands blown in by the northerly and southerly winds from the surrounding deserts; and thus, in the process of time, the present isthmus would be formed. I think that the practical evidence of this is undoubted. The same operations are still in existence, and it is simply a question of time as to the increase.

Having discussed the cause of the formation of the isthmus, I will now proceed to consider the objections or obstacles above mentioned. With regard to the first, the waters of the Nile are constantly bringing down alluvial matter, but whether the quantity brought down now is the same as formerly, or greater or less, is a question which nothing but experience can decide. But as far as experiments have already been made, it appears that the accumulation which has already taken place is considerable, and if it proceeds in the same ratio as hitherto, it must shortly become a very serious question whether it should be removed or not, and whether it might not be remunerative to do so.

Secondly. With regard to the sands driven in by the northerly winds; these must be very considerable, and not being able to escape, they must accumulate and tend to fill up the harbour; this will necessitate constant dredging to keep it open.

Thirdly. The sands driven by the tide and the southerly winds into the Suez end of the canal. These also must be very considerable, as is already evinced by the great extent of shallow water at the northern extremity of the Red Sea. This also must be reduced by dredging.

Fourthly. With regard to the quantity of sand which may be expected to be driven into the other parts of the canal from the surrounding deserts, during the winter and spring prevailing kamsin, or southeasterly gales. This quantity has been proved by one year’s experience to be not less than 310,000 cubic yards, and at times it may possibly be much more. It is proposed to check this by planting the sides of the canal with trees. Still a great deal of dredging must be constantly required.

Fifthly. The evaporation from the Bitter Lakes, and parts of the canal adjacent, is said to be 250,000,000 cubic feet of water, which is equivalent to about three-quarters of an inch daily. This water will have to be supplied chiefly from the Red Sea; and as it will have to pass through such a narrow channel, the velocity of the current will probably amount to two or three miles per hour, and if the banks of the canal are not well secured by paving, or similar works, they will be liable to be seriously affected. The constant indraught of the current will impede vessels coming from the Mediterranean, whilst it will facilitate the passage of vessels coming from the Red Sea; and in the same manner there will be a constant current from the Mediterranean, but by no means to so great an extent. These currents will also very probably bring in a considerable quantity of alluvium. They will not, however, very materially interfere with the passage of steam-vessels, although, if the latter are permitted to go at full speed, the waves produced by them will scour away the sides considerably, unless well protected by stone paving, fagoting, or similar works.

Upon the whole, viewing the difficulties above mentioned, the question naturally arises, whether they are of such a character as to be insurmountable; and to this I think we may safely say that they are not. What has been done once, as has been proved by the completion of the canal, can be done again, and will be maintained with much less difficulty. So far, therefore, viewed simply as a work of engineering, it resolves itself into a question of cost, or in other words, will the work pay as a commercial speculation, seeing that it has already cost 20,000,000l., and a great deal more is still required before it can be said to be quite complete, besides a very large sum for annual maintenance, and what this last item will be it is very difficult to decide, and nothing but experience can prove; still the more the canal becomes known, the more in all probability will it be used, and therefore the more money will be available for keeping it in repair. In addition to the dredging, it is very probable that the piers, both at Port Said and Suez, will have to be extended considerably.

The whole of the valley of the Nile, from the head of the delta below Cairo, is bordered by ridges of sandstone hills a few hundred feet high, with generally a plain monotonous tableland above, intersected by numerous ravines; no granite appears until we reach Assouan. In the vicinity of this place there are numerous quarries of fine granite, chiefly red; the masses are so compact that blocks of almost any size may be obtained from near the surface. From this district all the granite for the obelisks, statues, and columns of the various buildings, temples, and pyramids on both sides of the valley have been taken. Transported in flat-bottomed boats and rafts to the places where they were intended to be used, they were landed by means of inclined planes of wood, with rollers, and wedges, assisted by numerous rough capstans or windlasses, worked by countless gangs of men. This work appears to have been done with considerable skill, and the necessary combined operations were carried on simultaneously, by means of well-concerted signals. These operations are very clearly explained by the sculptured figures, and have been published by Sir Gardner Wilkinson and others.

Whilst examining the granite quarries near Assouan, I observed several imperfect blocks, which the Egyptians had commenced quarrying, but found them defective, and ceased working them. The mode of quarrying seems to have been nearly the same as we employ at the present time, namely, by wedges, levers, and pickaxes. Even if gunpowder had been known it would have been of very little use, for it would have in most cases destroyed the blocks, and the waste would have been enormous.

It does not quite clearly appear of what metal the tools were composed with which they worked the granite, whether of iron or bronze; if of the former, it must have been case-hardened. The polishing would be done by attrition with emery or sharp silicious sand. As for the stone, being sandstone, it was easily worked, and softer tools only were required.

As soon as I got back to Alexandria my first inquiries were for poor Demetrius. To my great delight I found him quite recovered, and overjoyed at seeing me; but he said he had been very ill for six weeks, and had several times considered himself dying. I immediately set to work making arrangements for my journey overland to Palestine, when I was suddenly interrupted by letters from my father, saying that he was very unwell, and wishing me to come back as soon as possible. I instantly dismissed Demetrius with a very handsome gratuity, discontinued my preparations, and, through Mr. Lee, our Consul at Alexandria, hired a passage to Malta in a merchant vessel. I was, however, laid up for several days at Cairo with fever, which was not pleasant, as the plague was then raging. As soon as I was sufficiently recovered I proceeded to Alexandria, where I found that the merchantman had already sailed. However, as I have said before, Captain Boswell, with H.M. sloop, the ‘Spry,’ was there, having Captain Wright on board, and the latter having finished his report on Cleopatra’s Needle, the sloop was about to return to Malta, and they very kindly offered me a passage. This I gladly accepted, and on arriving at Malta found that the plague had broken out on board the merchantman in which I had engaged a passage, and that several of the crew had died. She was then in quarantine, and before long everyone on board died of the plague, and I saw the ship burnt. I humbly thanked an all-merciful Providence for its inscrutable dispositions.

At Malta, though better, I still retained the fever, and consulted Dr. Groves, the head of the naval medical department. He looked very grave and said little, but recommended me to go to England as soon as possible, while he told a friend of mine that he did not think I should recover, the fever having taken such hold of my constitution. However, by the aid of bark and port wine I became temporarily myself, and as soon as I was able I proceeded to pay my visits. I called on the Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean squadron, Sir Graham Moore, who gave me every assistance in his power, and introduced me to Admiral Woolley, chief of the dockyard, to whom and his amiable wife I owe my gratitude for their kind hospitality. They introduced me to Sir Manly Power, the commander of the military forces, and from him and the various messes of the regiments composing the garrison I met with the most friendly reception. I here made the acquaintance of Mr. Strutt, one of the sons of Mr. Strutt, of Belper, and with him I explored both Malta and Gozo. He shortly after left for Greece and the East, where he died of malaria, which I much regretted, as he was a remarkably fine, intelligent, and spirited young man.

While I was here His Majesty George IV.’s birthday was celebrated with the greatest éclat. At twelve o’clock the entire garrison was reviewed by Sir Manly Power, with the usual salutes from the forts and ships of war. At sunset all the guns on the works were fired. This was a magnificent sight, and, that I might see it properly, I was invited to dine at the artillery mess at St. Elmo, from whence the first gun was fired; this was taken up by fort after fort until the entire fortress seemed in a blaze, and the whole was terminated by a magnificent bouquet of rockets.

I embarked for Naples on board a cutter commanded by Mr. Thurtle, one of the oldest midshipmen in the navy. He was a very peculiar and rather eccentric character, rough and sarcastic in manner, an excellent sailor, and a kind-hearted man. His long service and great experience rendered him well known throughout the navy, and his wit and good-humour made him a favourite wherever he went; in fact, he was a privileged person throughout the fleet, and enabled to assume a character which few officers of far higher rank thought of attempting. Unfortunately he was the brother of that daring and dissipated criminal who shortly afterwards murdered his companion, Welsh, at Elstree, for which he was hanged at the Old Bailey. This was a sad blow to the poor midshipman, and one from which I afterwards heard that he never recovered. My voyage with him was most agreeable. He was very kind and attentive, full of fun and humour, yet never for a moment neglecting his duties, and he kept his crew and ship in the most perfect order.

On landing at Naples I got apartments in the Gran Bretagna (then, and I believe now, the principal hotel), with more ease than usual, in consequence of the rapid advance of an Austrian army, thirty thousand strong, commanded by General Baron Pirmont, at the request of the King of Naples. I saw them enter, and very fine troops they were, especially the Tyrolese yagers. Later on, when I wished to make an excursion to Pæstum, I obtained, through the kindness of the colonel of the regiment, two Tyrolese corporals as escort. They sat, rifle in hand, on the box of my carriage, and mounted guard while I sketched. We saw several ill-looking fellows, armed, prowling about, but none dared venture within reach of the rifles. Letters from my father reached me here, saying that he was a good deal better, and that there was no necessity for my hurrying; I therefore, while still hastening home, thought I might allow myself a few days on the road to visit those objects of interest which I had previously omitted.

While at Naples I also examined an open pier, of which there are numerous specimens about the bay. This pier is constructed in a peculiar manner of pozzolana mixed up with irregular-shaped pieces of brick, marble, and tufa, or volcanic stone. The piers were formed by enclosing the space in a wooden dam or box, then filling it with the materials above mentioned, which after a short time set under water, and became a solid mass; the cofferdam was then removed and the pier left standing; then another was constructed in the same manner, until the required number were completed; upon these piers arches were built, and upon the top of them a roadway and parapet were constructed. The piers were about the same thickness, or rather greater, than the span of the arches. The object of the openings and piers was to provide a barrier which should be just sufficient to break the swell, but not large enough to obstruct the current, as the latter prevented any sediment from accumulating on either side of the pier. This is a very ingenious and novel mode of constructing piers, and it is strange that a like method has not been adopted in England, where the vast quantity of alluvial matter carried by the currents along our coasts accumulates round solid piers, and frequently fills up the harbours, rendering them almost useless, unless the accumulated matter be removed by dredging at continual expense.

Whilst breakfasting at the hotel at Pozzoli I felt an attack of my old enemy, the malaria fever, coming on; I therefore got back to Naples as soon as possible, and was obliged to go to bed, and there I remained for several days perfectly helpless. Thinking it would leave me, I did not send for medical advice. However, finding myself gradually getting worse, I was recommended to send for Dr. Roskilly, formerly an army surgeon, who had now established himself at Naples as a physician, and from his well-known skill and courteous manners had obtained considerable practice, particularly amongst the English. He came, and I found him such as described; he examined me carefully, and, after a considerable time of grave consideration, he said that I was in a very bad way, that the fever had got such a strong hold of me that it was continually undermining my constitution, and that, if not speedily arrested, he could not answer for the consequences; indeed, I might not live to see England. The worthy doctor, with whom I was much pleased, then left, and promised to return the next day at the same time, which he did. He then said that he had given my case his utmost consideration, and he was more than ever convinced that some decisive measure was necessary. My constitution was still good, and strong enough for the measure he would propose; and if I would submit to him, he felt confident that he could carry me through. He explained his remedy, which was nothing more or less than that I should take blue pill, as much as I was able; this, he said, would thoroughly eradicate the fever. I accordingly consented, as my case was desperate. It succeeded completely after about a fortnight’s trial. I felt very weak, but I was entirely a different man. I soon began to recover strength and appetite, and in about another week I was enabled to go out, and became myself again. No doubt the remedy was severe, but I must in justice to the able doctor say that he perfectly cured me; for although in after life I was frequently exposed to malaria influence in the fens of Lincolnshire, Walcheren, the worst parts of Holland, Tunis, and elsewhere, I never had an attack of the malaria fever.

On my way northwards I stopped two days at Mola di Gaeta, where the Apennines approach the sea, and where are numerous traces of the villas of the old Roman aristocracy; it was well I did so, for the brigands had mustered in great strength in the adjoining mountains, and committed many atrocities; amongst other things, they had just carried off a number of pupils from a neighbouring school. The Austrians, who were there in great force, at the request of the local authorities came to the rescue. A very strong patrol of cavalry kept the main roads, while a still more numerous body of Tyrolese swept the valleys and penetrated the recesses of the mountains. The brigands at first defied their pursuers, but finding themselves hard pressed, they killed their unfortunate prisoners. On hearing this the Austrians attacked at once, and having slain a great number, made the rest prisoners. I saw about thirty chained together, who, I believe, were all shot the next day. The road being now clear, I resumed my journey.

At Florence I carefully examined and measured the celebrated bridge of the Most Holy Trinity, by Ammanati, across the Arno, near the Gran Bretagna. This beautiful structure, a masterpiece in the art of bridge-building, consists of three arches; the arches may be termed semi-elliptic, slightly pointed at the crown; perhaps they might be more appropriately termed Gothi-elliptic. The slight pointing at the crown may have been done to allow for sinking, which did not take place to the extent calculated upon. Each of the arches is surrounded with a moulded archivolt of equal thickness throughout, with an ornamented scroll or shield in the centre of the spandril walls supporting the roadway, which is bounded by a solid panelled bridge. The piers are terminated by acute angular buttresses carved up to the top, and panelled also. The whole is built of marble, and is certainly one of the lightest, most elegant, and most scientific structures of the kind in existence. Some doubts as to its stability have existed at various times; nevertheless, it still exists without a flaw, and as a model to engineers and architects.

I visited the magnificent picture gallery of the Palazzo Pitti, replete with choice specimens of the great Italian masters. The palace itself is a fine example of the simple, massive, rusticated style, devoid of ornament. The effect is imposing, and shows what may be done by bold, well-defined masses, without resorting to that exuberant over-ornamented style, intermixed with all sorts of coloured marble, so much the fashion of the present day, particularly in England, where the climate is peculiarly unsuited for it; in any case it can only be termed a vitiated taste. If the building is well designed and properly grouped in effective masses, so as to give well-defined portions of light and shade, there can be no need of extraneous ornaments, as they only detract from the general effect; and where a building is not well designed no ornament can render it effective.

The port of Leghorn consisted of several solid stone piers, which did not appear to be laid out in the most scientific manner, and considerable improvements were in contemplation when I saw it. The great difficulty it has to contend with is the quantity of alluvial matter brought down by the Arno, which spreads along the coast for some distance both to the north and south. This might be obviated by judiciously adopting the principle of open piers, as invented by the Romans, so as to allow the littoral current full scope; this would sweep away the alluvium as fast as it was deposited, and the requisite protection from westerly winds might be easily obtained if the works were constructed on a proper system.

Passing by Carrara, I was much struck by the waste consequent on the clumsy method of working the quarries, and of transporting and loading the blocks. It occurred to me at the time how easy it would be to construct an iron tramway from the quarries to the shore, with a suitable pier furnished with powerful derricks at its termination, and this, with proper machinery for quarrying, all of which would have cost but little, would materially reduce the price of the marble, and consequently increase the demand.

As I passed the magnificent and well-protected Gulf of Spezzia, I thought, “What a splendid site for a naval arsenal!” This idea has now been at least partially carried into effect, and if the works are properly designed and executed, it ought to be one of the finest in Europe.

The morning after my arrival at Genoa I arose early, quite refreshed, and went first to the harbour, which I had always heard was one of the finest works of the kind in the world, and as such my excellent father expected that I should give him a complete account of it. I therefore examined it very minutely, and took great pains in tracing, sketching, and measuring it, when I could do so without being observed, for there was a good deal of jealousy about it. At first sight I was very much struck by the extent and magnificence of the bay, with the fine old town rising like a vast amphitheatre of palaces round it, surrounded by a huge circle of forts which crowned the summits of the hills; and by the great extent and massiveness of the two outer moles, the depth of water enclosed within them being capable of receiving at all times the largest vessels of war. But when I began to examine more narrowly I found that there, was a great error in the design of the main or outer moles. The southern, which was the longest, consisted of two arms, the outer one inclining inward at a considerable angle, whilst the northern mole consisted of a single straight line projecting from the shore in a south-south-west direction, so that the entrance pointed south-south-west, and was consequently exposed to the full effect of the severe gales which blow up the Gulf of Lyons during the winter and autumn months; the consequence is that during severe gales from this quarter a heavy swell sets into the entrance and produces such a strong current throughout the interior of the harbour that vessels in front of the town and under the southern mole can scarcely ride with safety at their moorings. This is a serious defect, and it might be easily remedied, although up to the present I have not heard that anything has been done. In the construction of the works there was nothing particular to find fault with, but there was a serious error committed in the disposal of the sewage; the whole of this was discharged into the harbour, so that in hot weather a most disagreeable effluvia arose in front of the lower part of the town; moreover, it caused the accumulation of a considerable quantity of alluvial matter. This had to be removed by constant dredging, in which convict labour was employed. The alluvium was emptied into lighters and sent out to sea to be discharged. The old arsenal was situated at the south-east corner of the inner harbour; it was quite unequal to the requirements of modern times.

While I was at Genoa an accident occurred by which my old acquaintance the sloop ‘Spry’ was nearly lost. Captain Boswell, having served his time, had been succeeded by another captain, who, contrary to strict rule, had his wife on board. The evening on which the captain had given orders to prepare for sailing there happened to be a grand ball in the town, and the lady persuaded her husband to take her, and defer sailing to the morrow. By this time the ‘Spry’ had left the harbour, and lay at single anchor outside the north mole. During the night a strong gale sprung up from the south. As the ship could not regain her old position the officer in command let go two more anchors, but two cables having parted she dragged her third anchor, and was driven close to the rocks. No assistance could be given from the shore, and, as her position seemed hopeless, the officers and crew took to their boats, and managed to get off in safety. To the astonishment of everybody, however, the last cable held, and the recoil of the waves, so close was she to the rocks, actually prevented her from striking, and so she remained until the gale abated, and the ship was saved. The odd part of it was, that when the crew were about leaving the ship my old friend Dr. Biggar was asleep in the cabin, and when aroused flew into a violent rage, and threw a bootjack at the head of the midshipman who woke him. After several ineffectual attempts, the midshipman was obliged to leave him, and he turned round and slept soundly till the morning. Judge of his surprise when he awoke and found what had happened during the night!

After passing rapidly through France, I embarked from Boulogne, September 23, 1821, in a small packet, during a very strong gale, with about fifty other passengers.

The following day we started with the morning’s tide with about seventy passengers, of whom Colonel Hylton Jolliffe, a friend of my father’s, was one. We left Boulogne about eleven, and reached Dover at 2 P.M.; I directly started by coach for London, and reached my father’s, 27, Stamford Street, the same night. I found him in very bad health, lying upon the sofa in the principal front bedroom; he was glad to see me.

He continued in the same weak state, although in perfect possession of all his great faculties, dictated to me several letters on business, and talked of sundry new works that he was about to undertake, particularly the new London Bridge, and the removal of the old one, which had been for some time under discussion in Parliament; a Bill for this purpose had actually been introduced during the past session, and my father had been requested to prepare a design for it, which he did, and it was very similar to that since executed by myself. My father’s bodily health appeared to decline gradually; he was confined almost to the sofa, and could do little more than walk across the room; in this manner he continued until the 3rd of October. He went to bed as usual, perfectly sensible and composed, and hoped that he would soon be better, as he was most anxious to return to business and make up for lost time. I went to his room on the morning of the 4th of October, and found that a considerable change for the worse had taken place; he seemed to be in much pain, and was walking about the room, evidently scarcely knowing what he was about. I got him into bed, and immediately sent for his physician, Dr. Ainslie, who had known him all his life, but he was unfortunately out of town. The apothecary, Mr. Welbank, came, and we consulted together as to whom we should send for, and ultimately summoned Dr. Roberts, who, although in good practice, had never seen my father, and consequently knew nothing of his constitution or complaints. He did the best he could, but evidently thought the case was very serious. My father lay in bed all day, almost unconscious, although I thought he knew me. I remained with him nearly the whole day, and about five o’clock in the afternoon he appeared to be sinking fast, and breathed very heavily, which alarmed us all excessively. In a short time this ceased, his features began gradually to relax, and he breathed his last at half-past five on the afternoon of the 4th of October, 1821, in the sixty-first year of his age.

The disease which killed my poor father was that of the kidneys and liver, as far as we could ascertain. All my brothers and sisters were assembled round his deathbed. It was a sad, sad sight, and afflicted us most severely; we had, however, the melancholy satisfaction of having done all in our power, though of no avail, to arrest the fatal event. He was universally known and respected; the news of his death spread immediately throughout the town, the public papers were filled with leading articles giving accounts of his public and private life, and everybody deplored his loss. One of the most powerful and touching articles was written by his talented friend Perry, the proprietor of the ‘Morning Chronicle,’ who was then at Brighton in bad health, and died there three months afterwards.

It seemed to be the universal wish that he who had rendered so many services to his country and was so generally beloved, should be buried in St. Paul’s, and arrangements were made accordingly. The funeral took place a few days afterwards, at eleven o’clock, and he was attended to his last resting-place by a vast concourse of literary, scientific, and private friends. The late talented John Wilson Croker, Esq., then First Secretary of the Admiralty, wrote the epitaph, which was composed in the most feeling and scholar-like manner for which that able gentleman was so particularly well qualified.

[1] Let me here relate an anecdote of the almost incredible instinct of the dog. Passing by the palace of the Austrian viceroy, I observed a dog sitting with an air of profound melancholy before one of the sentry-boxes. Colonel Brown, our representative, who was then with me, said that this dog formerly belonged to a soldier of the body-guard of Eugène Beauharnois, the viceroy, and accompanied his master to Moscow. The man never returned, but upwards of two years afterwards the dog did, and resumed his station before his former master’s sentry-box. After a time the dog came to be talked about, and at length the viceroy, an Austrian archduke, had him brought into the palace and tried to domesticate him, but he always returned to the sentry-box, where he lay motionless, and at times moaning. Seeing this, the archduke ordered him daily rations, and he was placed in the sentry’s orders for protection, and in this state I saw him; but a short time after the dog died, apparently inconsolable.

CHAPTER III.

Eau Brink Cut—Ramsgate Harbour—Sheerness Dockyard—Plymouth Breakwater—Anecdote of the late Mr. J. Fox—London Bridge and Approaches—Sir F. Trench’s Plan for Quaying the Thames—Nene Outfall—Cross Keys Bridge—Norfolk Estuary—Improvement of the Witham—Ancholme Drainage.

It was some time before I could recover from the shock. I had been absent abroad nearly two years and four months, and had passed through so many different scenes, that when I returned to England everything seemed perfectly new to me; being deprived of my father so unexpectedly threw me almost into a state of despair, so that I scarcely felt myself equal to undertake the responsibility of following his noble career, which I could never expect to equal. After giving way to my melancholy reflections for about a month, I determined to rouse myself to the utmost and to do my best, and with his brilliant example before me, and cheered on by his numerous attached friends, I felt that if I had no chance of attaining the same degree of celebrity as my dear father, I might still do something, and although lungo intervállo, I might still keep up the name. I determined therefore to set to work in right earnest and endeavour to obtain some of my father’s numerous appointments. My first ambition was to succeed him in his numerous great works then being carried on by the Admiralty, such as the Plymouth Breakwater, and the new Chatham and Woolwich dockyards.

That most excellent and able man, the late Lord Melville, was at the head of the Admiralty; the distinguished and gallant Sir George Cockburn, one of Nelson’s officers at the Nile and elsewhere, was the First Naval Lord; John Wilson Croker and Sir John Barrow were the Secretaries; and there never has been such a galaxy of talent at the Admiralty since. All these great and good men have since passed away from us, not without, however, leaving behind them indisputable monuments of their skill and the great benefits they conferred upon their country. As for myself, I owe them my deepest gratitude, and shall never forget their kindness. I was appointed by the Admiralty to succeed my father as their engineer. This high honour at my early age (for I was only seven-and-twenty) filled me with the greatest thankfulness, although I felt it was due to no merit of my own, but rather to the regard and respect which they entertained for my father; I therefore resolved to do everything in my power to render myself worthy of it, and set to work with right good will.

The next appointment I obtained was as drainage engineer to the Eau Brink Commissioners. This was at that time the greatest work of the kind, at the head of which were the late General Lord William Bentinck, afterwards Governor-General of India; the late Sir Andrew Hammond, Bart.; the late Sir Charles Browne, physician to the King of Prussia; and the late Thomas Hoseason, Esq., of Banklands, in the district of Marshland, near Lynn. These able and distinguished men formed the Committee for carrying into effect the Eau Brink Cut, for the improvement of the drainage of the great level of the fens, called the Bedford Level, amounting to about 300,000 acres of valuable land. This work consisted of a cut for altering the channel of the Ouse, by means of which nearly two miles of the navigation of that river would be saved, and an additional fall for the drainage of five feet perpendicular would be gained. This great work had been planned nearly a century before, but had always been opposed by the inhabitants of the fens, as being in their opinion inadequate to effect the desired object. At length, after great opposition on the part of the townspeople, who alleged that it would ruin their harbour and trade, the plan was decided on, and an Act of Parliament was obtained, in the year 1781, to carry it into effect, and to lay a tax of 4d. per acre per annum upon all fen lands which it was supposed would derive benefit from it; certain guarantees were given to Lynn Harbour and the interior navigation interests, as well as to the owners of the banks of the Ouse, that they should be indemnified for any damages they might sustain in consequence of the Eau Brink Cut being executed. Under this Act it was decreed that there should be two engineers, one appointed by the drainage interests, namely, the late Robert Mylne (the architect of Blackfriars Bridge), and Sir Thomas Hyde Page, R.E., as the engineer for navigation. These two gentlemen were to decide the direction and dimensions of the proposed Eau Brink Cut, which was to commence below German’s Bridge and to terminate a short distance above the boat wharf at Lynn. They, however, differed so materially that it was necessary to call in an umpire to decide between them, and the late scientific Captain Joseph Huddart, of the Trinity Board, and the inventor of the celebrated patent cable machinery, was appointed arbitrator. Captain Huddart made his award; but when it was determined to carry on the works, it was found that the whole of the funds appropriated for that purpose, which amounted to about 80,000l., had been expended in litigation and the cost of obtaining the Act of Parliament, so that the whole matter fell to the ground.

Meanwhile the defective state of drainage of the great level of the fens still continued, and everybody was convinced that the only remedy was to carry into effect the Eau Brink Cut as awarded by Captain Huddart. It was therefore resolved that a new Act of Parliament should be obtained for this purpose, increasing the tax upon the lands proposed to be benefited sufficiently to cover the costs according to the estimate of my father, who was appointed engineer-in-chief of the drainage interests; and the above-mentioned gentlemen, Lord W. Bentinck, Sir A. Hammond, Sir Charles Browne, and Thomas Hoseason, Esq., were appointed as the executive committee.

The Act having passed, Messrs. Jolliffe and Banks tendered for, and received and executed the contract.

The effect of this work greatly exceeded the most sanguine expectations of its supporters. Immediately after it was opened the low-water mark at the upper end of the cut fell five feet, and the drainage waters were carried off with a degree of rapidity which astonished the whole country. The autumn and winter of 1821-2 was characterized by an unusual quantity of rainfall, and if it had not been for the opening of the Eau Brink Cut the whole, or the greater part, of the level of the fens would have been under water, and therefore the fenmen were very well pleased with the result. At this time I was appointed to succeed my father as chief drainage engineer, and the late Mr. Telford had been previously appointed the chief engineer for navigation. Immediately after my appointment, which was in the month of December, 1821, I went to Lynn to examine the works, and was much astonished to find the great effects which had been produced by the Eau Brink Cut. Instead of the circuitous old shallow course, full of shoals and obstructions of every kind, there was a fine straight, deep channel, two miles shorter than the old one, of the proper width, bordered by strong banks of the full height; the floods passed off without difficulty, and the navigation was so much improved that the lighters and barges going up the river from Lynn saved several tides. It is true that upon examining the country between Denver Sluice and Cambridge, there was a great deal of water out in several places, but this was attributed to the interior drains and rivers not being properly defended and embanked, so that they could carry off the water to the main outfall below. I also examined the new steam pumping apparatus, which had lately been erected for draining Soham and other fens. This, although proposed by my father in 1786, was the first of the kind that had been erected. It consisted of a scoop wheel, with a perpendicular lift, worked by a condensing engine. It answered its object completely, and has since been imitated by numerous others with equal success in different parts of the fen and lowland districts. Yet in many places it has been found very difficult to induce the fen proprietors to combine together in order to effect a natural drainage, which would be better and less expensive; they prefer to act independently of each other, and adopt the steam wheel. Still, even with this, the main outfalls must be improved to their fullest extent, otherwise the water cannot run off; and when the floods in the adjacent rivers rise so high that the banks are endangered, the pumping must be discontinued, otherwise the banks will break, and then a greater injury will ensue. Nevertheless, the steam pumping apparatus is an immense improvement on the old windmill, which could only work when there was wind.

My next appointment was to succeed my father as engineer-in-chief to Ramsgate Harbour.

This harbour was established by special Act of Parliament for the purpose of affording shelter to vessels of 300 tons lying in the Downs during south-west gales. When these winds prevail that anchorage is crowded with all classes of vessels, and the smaller ones, not being so well found with ground tackle as the larger, are liable to be driven from their moorings and fall foul of the larger vessels, causing them to go adrift also, and thus creating considerable confusion and damage; but by having Ramsgate under their lee, the small vessels can always get under way, run for it at the commencement of the flood, and reach it in safety long before high water, at which time the Goodwin Sands are covered, and a heavy sea rolls into the Downs. In fact, Ramsgate Harbour was made for clearing the Downs of small vessels, so that the large ones may ride in safety, and so far has effectually answered its object.

There were a certain number of trustees appointed under the Act, who were selected from the principal merchants and shipowners of London, and the Deputy Master and three or four Elder Brethren of the Trinity were members of the Board of Trustees ex officio. At the time I was appointed engineer, the celebrated Sir William Curtis, Bart., member for the City of London, was chairman, and the worthy Deputy Master of the Trinity House, Sir John Woolmore, represented that Corporation with three others of the Elder Brethren. As this was one of the oldest and most important harbour trusts in the kingdom, I felt great honour in being appointed their chief engineer, the more so as the celebrated Smeaton and my father had previously occupied that position. It was here that Smeaton followed out the idea that had been originally proposed at Dundee, of establishing an inner basin with sluices for the purpose of scouring away the mud which continually accumulated in the outer harbour, owing to the great quantity of alluvial matter brought in from the adjacent coast and waters, which otherwise in a very short time would have filled it up and rendered it useless. Ramsgate Harbour was also celebrated for being the first place of the kind where the diving bell was introduced by Smeaton for the purpose of laying down moorings and removing obstacles under water. The diving bell was afterwards, in 1813, much improved, and rendered, for the first time, applicable to building masonry under water with as much security and accuracy as building upon dry land. In such an exposed situation it was more economical and expeditious than the old cofferdams; it was in this manner Mr. Rennie rebuilt the east pier-head in 17 feet at low-water spring tides, which was originally made by Smeaton, and which failed. I also succeeded my father at Sunderland, Donaghadee, Port Patrick, and Kingstown harbours, the West India Docks, besides other places soon afterwards, so that I had a large business, and was daily getting more.

The most difficult and anxious work, however, at that time was the new dockyard at Sheerness, designed and partly carried into effect by my father. He originally, in the year 1807, recommended that the old dockyard, which was composed only of some old wooden slips imbedded in the mud, a few storehouses, a wretched basin, lined with wooden walls, and some timber jetties, should be abolished. He said that it was on the lee or wrong side of the harbour, that the foundation for new works was of mud and quicksand, that the space, on account of the buildings in the old town, was very confined, and, therefore, that to make a good dockyard there would be very expensive, and he thought it would be far better to make a new complete establishment at Northfleet, just above Gravesend, and to get rid of Woolwich, Deptford, and Sheerness altogether. Mr. Pitt, then Prime Minister, decided that it should be done; but when he died the matter fell to the ground, as I have before said, although the land was bought for the purpose.

However, after the great war had terminated, in 1815, the nation was naturally anxious to reduce the expenditure as much as possible, so that the House of Commons would not listen to the idea of expending any large sums upon great new works either for the navy or the army; and it was only after considerable difficulty that the House of Commons would grant money for the repairs of Sheerness Dockyard, and, like most extensive repairs, it was found, when too late, that it would have been far better to have abandoned Sheerness altogether.

Nevertheless it was absolutely necessary to do something to the Thames and Medway dockyards, to keep in repair the large fleet of vessels which was there laid up in ordinary. The total number of pennants flying at the close of the war was about 1000, and the last vote for seamen in 1815 included 127,000 sailors and marines. As there was greater depth of water at Sheerness than at any of the dockyards, and as the harbour immediately contiguous was capable of accommodating with ease any number of large vessels, Sheerness was decided upon as the place where the greatest repairs and improvements should be made, and it ended in an entirely new dockyard being built. The works accordingly commenced in 1815, and the late Lord Melville laid the first stone at the north end that year. It ended in expending nearly 3,000,000l., 1,700,000l. of which went to the engineering department, and the remainder in the purchase of ground, buildings in the town of Sheerness, in storehouses, mast and timber ponds, smithery, admiral’s and officers’ houses. The engineering works were of the most difficult kind; the foundations were composed of nothing but soft mud and loose quicksands to an almost interminable depth, so that my father was obliged to invent an entirely new system of hollow walls faced with granite in front and brick behind. This system of walls, which was entirely new, by giving a greater superficial area of bearing surface with the same weight of materials, rendered them thoroughly secure. He had adopted this kind of construction with perfect success at the docks at Great Grimsby, in Lincolnshire, and they succeeded equally well at Sheerness, although exposed to much greater difficulties. The dockyard as completed consists of one basin of nearly 3 acres, at the east end of which are three docks for first-rate vessels of war, with a depth of 9 feet at low water of spring tides, the basin being of the same depth, so that with a rise of tide of 18 feet at spring tides the largest vessels can always be docked at those times. There is also another tidal basin of about the same size, together with large storehouses, smithery, mast ponds, boathouses, admiral’s and officers’ houses, chapel, &c., and ample space for timber and other materials. This dockyard, therefore, as was the intention, is well adapted for keeping in repair the numerous vessels lying up in ordinary in the adjacent harbour, or for executing any repairs which vessels on the northern stations may require; it never was intended to be a building yard, and it answers its original purpose well. It should be mentioned, that here Mr. Rennie first introduced cast-iron gates for the dry docks; these fitted to the granite quoins so nicely by polishing the two surfaces, iron and stone, with emery, that they worked together perfectly, and were completely water-tight; and although they have now been in use forty-five years, they are as good as on the day when they were made.

At the time that these works were proceeding, it was decided to make a new large granite dry dock at Chatham, similar to those at Sheerness; and some improvements in the line of river wall, which partly interfered with the free circulation of the tide there, were being constructed when I was appointed, and I finished them.

The breakwater in Plymouth Sound, which was designed by my father and commenced in 1815, had made considerable progress; in fact, the great mass of rubble stone had been deposited throughout its entire length, so that vessels of war as well as merchantmen could safely lie under its protection during the heaviest gales from the westward. When I was appointed engineer to the Admiralty, the late excellent Mr. Joseph Whidbey, who was distinguished for his scientific acquirements, and who had sailed round the world with Vancouver, was the superintendent of the breakwater, so that I had but little to do with it until the latter end of 1824, when, on the 22nd and 23rd of November of that year, a violent storm occurred from the south-south-west, the most dangerous wind, and its effect upon the breakwater above low water of spring tides was to disarrange nearly the whole of the superstructure, and to transfer a very large portion of the stone from the south to the north slope. The effects of this severe storm were considered to be so serious as to create considerable doubts as to the security of the breakwater, and even Mr. Whidbey was alarmed. I was accordingly sent by the Admiralty to make a detailed report as to what had occurred. I carefully examined the whole work, and had numerous transverse and longitudinal sections taken to show its exact state, and reported that the main body of the work remained as substantial as ever, but that the rubble from above low water to the top, on the south or sea slope, had only been laid at an angle of 3 to 1, and the waves during the storm above mentioned had in a great measure disturbed it, and had transferred a very large portion from the south to the north slope, increasing the south slope to 5 to 1. Now it is singular that my father, when it was decided to raise the breakwater from the level of half tide (which was the original intention) to above high water of spring tides, always said that the outer slope should be laid at 5 to 1. After his death, however, Mr. Whidbey, with an idea of economy, reduced the south slope to 3 to 1, so that the effects of the storm had been to confirm my father’s views; and not only had no real damage been done, but it had consolidated and strengthened the breakwater materially, and had given a practical example as to the best mode of completing it, and I recommended that the outer slope should be finished at 5 to 1, and the inner at 2 to 1. The Admiralty, however, feeling their responsibility, thought it advisable, in addition to myself, to consult three other experienced engineers, and the late Mr. Telford, Mr. Josias Jessop, and my eldest brother, George, were appointed for that purpose.

We proceeded to Plymouth in the month of March, 1825, and spent several days in examining the breakwater. We finally recommended that the outer slope should be finished at 5 to 1 and the inner at 2 to 1 (as I had previously suggested to the Admiralty), that the outer slope and top should be paved with rough square blocks set closely together, and that the inside slope should be paved with rubble. Mr. Whidbey was, unfortunately, of a different opinion, and recommended a nearly vertical wall of solid masonry on the top, of which the Admiralty did not approve, and adopted our plan, which was ordered to be carried into effect. Mr. Whidbey was so much annoyed that he resigned his situation and retired into private life near Taunton. This was much regretted, as he was a most able and honest public servant, and beloved and respected by everybody who knew him. I was then appointed chief engineer, and upon considering the subject again, I thought that, as the base or toe of the outer slope was the most exposed part of the work, it would be better to strengthen it by benching, which would effectually break the force of the waves before they could reach the main body of the work. This was approved by the Admiralty, and has since been carried into effect with complete success.

I may here relate a curious anecdote in connection with the death of Mr. Perceval. Messrs. Fox, Williams, and Co., the great mining contractors in Cornwall, took the first contract for blasting the rock and depositing the stones on the breakwater. In 1815 Mr. John Fox, a Quaker, having come to town on business, breakfasted with my father and several others, including myself. The conversation happened to turn on the death of Mr. Perceval. Mr. Fox said in a simple, unaffected manner, “I remember it very well; it is a curious story, and now I will tell it you. I was then visiting my friend Williams at Redruth. I went to bed as usual, and awoke in a most restless state, having had an extraordinary dream. I dreamed that I went to the House of Commons, where I had never been before, and having no admission into the interior of the House, I sat down quietly on one of the benches in the lobby, expecting a Cornish member who had promised when I came to London to give me a ticket of admission to hear the debates. Beside me on the bench sat a tall, muscular man (describing Bellingham most exactly), who appeared to be very restless, and continually asking whether Mr. Perceval had come to the House, and every now and then putting his right hand into his left breast pocket. At length, after waiting some minutes, there was a bustle, and several persons near me said that Mr. Perceval was coming; and shortly after Mr. Perceval made his appearance (Mr. Fox describing the exact dress he wore, namely, a blue coat with gilt metal buttons, white cravat and waistcoat, with nankeen shorts, white stockings, and shoes, according to his usual attire in the summer). Immediately after Mr. Perceval made his appearance, the man who sat next to me got up, and, advancing close to Mr. Perceval, drew a pistol from his left breast pocket, fired, and Mr. Perceval fell at his feet. This occasioned great commotion. The man who fired the pistol was at once seized, and I rushed out and asked what had happened, and the bystanders told me that Mr. Perceval had been shot by a man named Bellingham, who was the identical individual who had been a few minutes before sitting by my side. When my dream had come to this point I awoke in the greatest agitation. I could not account for it. I had never seen Mr. Perceval, nor his murderer, Bellingham; I had never been in the lobby of the House, and I had been in no way connected with Mr. Perceval, either by correspondence or otherwise, still I was so much affected by the dream that I felt convinced that Mr. Perceval had been murdered. I passed the remainder of the night in great restlessness. I could not sleep, but was always thinking of the dream, being thoroughly convinced that it was true. I came down to breakfast at the usual hour, in the most anxious and nervous state, which I in vain endeavoured to conceal as much as possible; but my friend and partner Williams and his whole family observed it, and said that I looked very ill, and kindly asked me to explain the cause. After much pressing, I told my story. Friend Williams and the whole of his amiable family said that it was nonsense; that I had been unwell, and still was so, and said that they would send for their family doctor. I said no; I felt perfectly convinced that my dream would, unfortunately, prove but too true, and that the mail, which would arrive in the evening, would bring a confirmation of it. They tried to laugh me out of it, but nothing would do; I therefore went about with my friend Williams, transacting our mining business, being convinced that the arrival of the mail in the evening would confirm the truth of my dream in all particulars. We returned to dinner at five o’clock; at nine the mail arrived, and confirmed every particular of my dream. I was afterwards taken to the House of Commons, where I had never been before, and I correctly pointed out the whole particulars of the melancholy transaction exactly as they occurred, to the astonishment of my friends and the bystanders. The whole story seems so strange that I cannot account for it. I relate it to you just as it occurred to me.”[2]

This is certainly one of those marvellous instances of foresight which baffles all comprehension. John Fox was generally considered by his numerous friends and acquaintance to be a most honest, plain, straightforward, business man, and incapable of stating anything but what he believed to be true. I heard him relate the dream, and my father and all present believed it. The curious part of the story is how he should have dreamed such a thing, being in no way connected with it.

About this time (1825) the several victualling departments of the navy at Plymouth were very inefficient, and divided into three or four establishments—one at Southdown, opposite to Devonport, another at Cremill Point, near Stonehouse, a third at Plymouth, and the fourth in Plymouth town—being several miles from each other, so that the extra expense and delay in provisioning vessels of war was considerable. Upon this being represented to the Admiralty by the Victualling Board, of which the late General Stapleton was the chairman, they determined to make an entirely new victualling establishment, concentrating the whole of the several departments into one, upon a well-organized plan, so that every operation should be carried out with the greatest dispatch and economy.

After much discussion Cremill Point, being nearest to the dockyard at Devonport, and being in other respects, as to depth of water, &c., possessed of peculiar advantages, was finally selected as the best place for the new establishment, and I was ordered by the Victualling Board to prepare the necessary plans, specifications, and estimates, and to see them carried into effect.

Whilst these works were proceeding, a proposal was made to the Admiralty to apply the Cornish system of engines to the Admiralty steam-vessels. Up to this time steam, according to the principle of Watt, not exceeding 5 lb. pressure upon the square inch, was only used, whereas in the Cornish condensing engines steam of the pressure of 37 lb. per square inch was then usual, with much greater effect and economy. I was accordingly sent by the Admiralty to Cornwall to investigate their scheme. I took with me my principal assistant, the late Mr. William Lewin, a very zealous, able, practical engineer. We examined the whole system very carefully at different mines, measured the actual work done and the quantity of fuel consumed, and came to the conclusion that the Cornish system of high-pressure condensing might be applied to the navy with the greatest advantage, and reported the same to the Admiralty. It was not adopted at the time, although high-pressure condensing engines have since been introduced into the navy; at the present time the pressure has advanced to 27 and 28 lb. per square inch, and in the non-condensing engines to 100 and 120 lb. Watt, although he had tried steam at every temperature, yet generally preferred low pressure; his reason for this must have been the imperfect means then at command for controlling it, and perhaps he was right at the time, for the manufacture of wrought iron had not then made sufficient progress to render it capable of resisting with safety the great power of high-pressure steam. He pointed out the way, and others, through the improvements in the manufacture of iron, have profited by his discoveries. I must not omit, in justice to the very talented Mr. Perkins, his views as to the value of high-pressure steam, upon which he made numerous experiments; amongst other things, he proposed to use it as a destructive power in war, by means of his celebrated steam gun, which created much sensation at the time; and it is rather singular that this has not been taken up in modern times, when every invention which can add to the methods of destruction is most greedily adopted. There can be no doubt that the “steam gun” may be used with the most terrible effect in fixed batteries either for musketry or artillery, and probably the day will come when we shall see batteries worked by steam, with a great diminution of manual agency; and the men employed to work them will be so protected as to render the destruction of human life comparatively trifling.

Amongst the other legacies which my dear father had left to me, was that of building London Bridge. He had shown, to the satisfaction of the Committee of the House of Commons, the impracticability of keeping up the old bridge by any amount of repair or alteration; that it could not be rendered fit for the improvement of the river Thames, nor for the continually increasing traffic which must pass over it, at any reasonable expense, and that therefore an entirely new bridge would be by far the most satisfactory. The House of Commons was so fully convinced by his arguments that it unanimously condemned the old bridge, and refused to comply with the recommendation of the City of London that it should be altered, but resolved that a new bridge should be built according to the design made by my father. An Act of Parliament was accordingly passed to this effect, the late talented and energetic Mr. Holme Sumner being the leading member of the Committee. The Corporation demurred to this, saying that there were other engineers equal to Mr. Rennie, and demanding a public competition. The advertisement for designs was accordingly issued, and a great number were sent in and referred to the Committee of the House of Commons and the Government, according to the previous Act. After considering the various rival plans, it was finally decided that that of my father was the only one which complied with all the required conditions, and it was therefore adopted. At this resolution great discontent was manifested by the different competitors. The Corporation of London also objected to this decision, as they considered that they ought to have been the sole judges. But finding that the Government adhered to its decision, they submitted, at the same time urging that they, who were to pay the expense of the new bridge, ought to select the engineer that was to execute the work. The Government agreed to this, subject to their approval; and finally the Committee appointed by the Corporation to carry into effect my father’s design, fixed upon me as the engineer-in-chief; Mr. Richard Lambert Jones was appointed the chairman of the executive committee of the Corporation. A very able and efficient chairman he was, and conducted the whole to a conclusion, to the great satisfaction of the Corporation and of the Government.

The design, as I have already observed, was made by my father, but no detailed working drawings, specification, or estimate, had been prepared by him; it fell to my lot, therefore, to do this. As I had acted under my father during the construction of the Waterloo and Southwark bridges, I had become so thoroughly acquainted with his system, that I had no very great difficulty about it.

The design consisted of five semi-elliptical arches, the centre being 150 feet span, the two next arches 140 feet span each, the two side or land arches 130 feet span each; the two centre piers were 24 feet thick at the springing, and the two side piers 22 feet each; the whole was to be built of the best grey granite. The width of the roadway was originally designed to be 48 feet, but was afterwards increased to 54 feet wide, at an extra cost of 46,000l.

It was intended by my father that the new bridge should be built on the site of the old one, which was to be pulled down in the first instance, and a temporary wooden one was to be built above it to accommodate the traffic whilst the new bridge was building. It was considered that as soon as the fall of 5 feet occasioned by the old bridge should be removed, the river would be restored to its natural state, and there would then be less difficulty and expense in making the cofferdams and founding the piers and abutments; the old approaches to the bridge would then be preserved, and thus a less quantity of valuable property would be required. The wish, however, of the Corporation to preserve the old bridge during the construction of the new one was so strong, that there was no possibility of resisting it. I therefore yielded to their desire, and agreed to build the new bridge immediately above the old one, and as near as practicable to it; notwithstanding, I felt at the time that there would be considerable difficulty, risk, and extra expense in so doing, on account of the great depth of water in which the piers must be founded, namely, 28 feet at low water of spring tides, and the strong current and fall through the old bridge both during the flood and ebb, particularly during the latter. It should be observed that the old bridge stood as it were upon a hill, the foundations of the piers being from 28 to 30 feet above the bottom of the river immediately above and below it, occasioned by the great fall and scour produced by the contracted waterway; thus it was necessary to secure the piers by large projecting starlings, and to throw considerable quantities of stone continually round them, in order to prevent the old bridge from being carried away. However, there was no alternative but to build the new bridge above the old one, and I accordingly set about taking every possible precaution in order to prevent accident.

As the loose stone thrown round the piers of the old bridge was continually washed into the holes immediately above and below, it was in vain to attempt driving the piles for the cofferdams of the piers until this stone was removed, which was done by dredging. The cofferdams for the piers were elliptical in form, this shape being the best adapted for resisting the strong current in which they were placed; they consisted of two main rows of piles each 14 inches square, each pile being properly hooped and shod with wrought iron, and driven 25 feet into the bed of the river. These piles were connected together in the horizontal direction by three rows of braces 15 inches square, namely, one at the level of the lowest tides, another at the level of half tide, and the third at the level of high water. At every 10 feet the two rows of piles were fastened together with wrought-iron bolts 2½ inches diameter, which passed through the horizontal braces or walings, as they are technically termed, and were secured outside and inside with additional wooden cleats 15 inches square and 8 feet long, so as to cover the joints where the main horizontal braces met; outside of these were large iron plates, and as the bolts were screwed at each end, they could be tightened up to the full bearing without crushing the timber. On the outside of these two main rows of piles was a third row of the same dimensions, and driven the same depth into the bed of the river at a distance of 6 feet in the clear from the two main rows, and connected together with a tier of horizontal braces, and to the two main rows of piles with bolts, cleats, and plates of the same dimensions as those already described. When the piles had been driven to their proper depth, and had been properly secured to each other as above described, the joints between every pile, which had been previously fitted to each other, were well caulked with oakum, and the outside joints were covered with melted pitch, so as to render them water-tight; the spaces between the three rows of piles were then filled with strong well-puddled clay.

In addition to the above three rows of piles, there was a fourth row on the inside, driven down in the form of a parallelogram, corresponding with the exact size of the foundation of the piers, and to the same depth as the outer piles. Every tenth pile, and those at the corners or angles, extended up to the level of low water. Upon the heads of these piles longitudinal and transverse braces were fixed across the inside of the dam, at the level of low water, half tide, and high water; so that the dam was braced internally and externally in every direction to resist the pressure of the water, like a well-made cask. There was a powerful steam engine, with the requisite pumps, attached to each dam, to remove any water which might either rise from the foundation or from the outside. Each dam was provided with a trunk secured by a valve 3 feet diameter, laid at the level of low water, so that in the event of any unusual pressure of water coming against the dam, these valves were opened, and the dam was then filled with water, and all mischief was prevented. The first pier cofferdam on the Southwark side was completed, the water pumped out, and the earth was excavated to the depth of 30 feet, going below low-water mark of spring tides; the bottom consisted of the stiff London clay. Piles, consisting of Baltic fir, elm, and beech, 22 feet long, and 12 inches diameter in the middle, properly hooped and shod with wrought iron, were then driven 20 feet into the solid ground, or until, with a weight of 12 cwt. falling 18 to 20 feet, they would not move above an inch at a blow. These piles were driven 3 feet 6 inches from centre to centre, both in the longitudinal and transverse direction. After having driven them, their heads were cut off and accurately levelled. The loose earth between their heads was then removed, to the depth of 12 inches, and the spaces filled in with stone bedded in concrete; all the rows of piles were then connected together in the transverse direction by Baltic fir sills or beams 14 inches square, well fitted to each pile head by jagged wrought-iron spikes 20 inches long and three quarters of an inch square, driven through the sills into the pile heads below; the spaces between the sills were well filled in with stone and brickwork; another row of sills was then laid in the transverse direction above the pile heads and spiked down to the lower sills in the same manner; the spaces between the upper sills were then filled in with stone and brickwork. The whole surface of the foundation was covered with elm plank 6 inches thick, closely jointed together and bedded in mortar, and well spiked down to the sills below with jagged spikes 10 inches long and half an inch square. Upon this platform the masonry was built, each course diminishing in length and width by a series of offsets 12 inches wide, until they reached the shaft of the pier, when it was carried up solid to the springing of the arches. The whole of the exterior masonry was of the best whitish-grey granite, and the interior stone was of the best hard Yorkshire grit stone from the quarries of Bramley Fall. The abutments were constructed upon piles and masonry of the same character as the piers.

The first stone was laid with considerable ceremony on the first pier cofferdam from the Surrey shore by His Royal Highness the late Duke of York. The dam was fitted up with great taste like an amphitheatre, with seats all round, the whole being covered at top with a handsome coloured canvas awning adorned with numerous flags of all nations. The Lord Mayor, assisted by the Aldermen, Common Councilmen, and Committee, with Mr. Jones, the Chairman, attended in great state, and everything went off well. After this pier had advanced nearly to the level of high water, one day whilst examining it, standing upon one of the cross beams, my foot slipped, and I fell headlong into the dam upon the top of the masonry; fortunately, my left foot caught in a nail in the beam, and I hung by it for a few seconds. This somewhat broke and changed the direction of my fall, and I pitched upon an inclined plank, upon which I slid until I struck my head against a stone; my hat deadened the blow; as it was, however, I was cut about the forehead and half stunned. The after effects of this fall were very serious; my whole system got such a severe shaking, that I did not recover thoroughly until nearly ten years afterwards, and I carried on my large professional business with the greatest difficulty. The works made satisfactory progress, and the centres for the first and second arches from the Surrey shore were soon fixed.

Each centre was composed of eight ribs, framed upon the truss principle, resting upon a continued series of wedges in one piece, laid horizontally and resting upon tressels or legs formed by the piles of the cofferdams, which had been cut off and levelled for that purpose. The mode of setting and fixing the ribs was the same as that adopted at the Waterloo and Southwark bridges. A large lighter was constructed especially for this purpose. In the centre was placed a strong framing, which rested upon eight screws, four in each row, working in a strong cast-iron box, to which levers were attached, by means of which the screws and framing above them could be gradually raised and lowered at pleasure; at one end of the framing there was an upright scaffold. The centres, I have already said, consisted of eight main ribs framed together separately. As there was no room to frame these centres near the bridge, a special workshop and wharf were provided by the contractors at Millwall, in the Isle of Dogs; when ready they were launched in one piece, from a properly-prepared platform, into the river, and towed to the Southwark end of the bridge, where the lighter, with its apparatus of powerful sheers, crabs, and tackle, was in readiness to receive them; by these means they were gradually hauled up an inclined plane, and then raised upright upon the platform, supported by the frame and screws beneath, and firmly braced to the scaffolding in the lighter; two centre frames were thus placed upon it at one time, and adjusted by the screws to an extra height of 2 feet, so as to allow for any deficiency in the rise of the tide. Two ribs having been placed upon the framing, the lighter was hauled off from the shore and placed in front of the opening in which the centre was to be, the lighter being moored 100 yards from it, about half an hour before high water; upon the turning of the tide it was gradually allowed to float down with the ebb current to its place. By the time that the lighter with the centre ribs arrived in its exact position there was always 2 feet to spare, in order to allow for any deficiency of the tide; as the tide fell the two ribs were securely deposited in their places upon the framing and wedges below them. It should be observed, that upon the wedges there was an additional framing so as to reduce the weight of the main ribs of the centring. When the main ribs had been deposited upon the framing wedges, they were securely braced together until the whole number of ribs required for each centre was fixed, when they were all braced firmly together longitudinally, transversely, and diagonally. This mode of fixing centres for arches of any span was most successful and economical, and I believe that my father was the inventor of it, if it may be termed an invention. My excellent and talented friend, the late Robert Stephenson, adopted the same method for fixing the tubes of the Conway and Menai Straits bridges. He told me that he was not aware that my father had proposed it before him; but in the ‘History of the Britannia and Conway Bridges,’ edited, I believe, by the present Mr. Edwin Clarke, who was employed under Mr. Stephenson at the Conway Bridge, it is expressly mentioned that my father had previously employed the same plan.[3]

But to return to London Bridge. The works proceeded successfully; the fifth or last arch on the City side was completed in 1829. The centres of the first, second, and centre arches having been removed, it was found that they had subsided only 3 inches each, which was the exact distance that had been allowed for, with an extra half inch for the centre arch. Upon examining the arches and piers after it was supposed that they had subsided, it was found that there had been an unequal sinking, that the two centre piers had subsided on the east side slightly more than on the west side. I was much puzzled at this, and could not for some time account for the difference. Three or four of the quoin arch-stones of the second arch from the City shore had been fractured for about 8 or 9 inches; this, however, was of no consequence, for it is always difficult in such large arches to get the workmen to bed the quoins accurately. The same thing had occurred in the Waterloo and other bridges; I was therefore led to investigate the subject more thoroughly during the construction of the new bridge. It was found that the cofferdams for the piers in several instances were made in front of the openings or arches of the old bridge, which could not be avoided. These dams necessarily still further obstructed the waterway through the old bridge; I therefore felt that it was absolutely essential to find relief for the ebbing and flowing tides, detained both by the old bridge and the cofferdams of the new bridge, and accordingly recommended that, on the south side of the main arch of the old bridge, which was only 80 feet wide, two arches should be thrown into one, and that the intermediate pier should be removed, by which means a single wide opening would be made facing the space between the cofferdams of the arch and the centre on the Surrey side of the new bridge, but the difficulty of doing this arose from the fact that the traffic over the old bridge could not be interrupted for a moment. I soon, however, found an expedient; I ordered that the requisite number of logs of the best Baltic fir timber 15 inches square should be prepared sufficiently long to extend over the two arches and piers of the old bridge which I proposed to remove. Having got these ready, I stopped up one half of the roadway, leaving the other half open for the traffic, and working night and day, I laid these whole timbers spanning the two arches to the adjoining piers close together, bolted them to each other, and secured them to a longitudinal bearer of the same dimensions imbedded in the masonry of the adjoining piers, so that the timbers which were to form the increased opening rested firmly upon them. Having done this, I removed the masonry of the intermediate arch by degrees from beneath the timber girders, placing a strong diagonal strut or support under each girder as I proceeded, at the same time connecting together all these diagonal struts. Having completed one half of the temporary arch or opening, the traffic was diverted over it, and the other half was completed in the same manner; the whole operation was accomplished within ten days, and the traffic was not stopped for one hour. The intermediate pier of the old arch was then removed entirely. As the work advanced to the fourth pier on the City side another similar opening was made. These alterations relieved the river materially, and enabled the works to be carried on much more securely, and greatly diminished the fall through the old bridge at low water. Nevertheless, there was increased scour against the dams where the openings were made, which occasioned the slight unequal subsidence before mentioned. The last or fifth arch was completed on the City side, January, 1829.

It has been mentioned that Lord Liverpool’s Government had always taken the greatest interest in the construction of new London Bridge, and gave the Corporation of London every support in their power, not only for the accommodation of the great traffic across it, but for the improvement of the Thames, which the removal of the old bridge would effect; and amongst the men most zealous in Lord Liverpool’s Government were the late Marquis of Salisbury, then Lord Cranbourne, and the late Earl of Lonsdale, then Lord Lowther; both these noblemen had considerable talent, and, fully alive to the advancing ideas of the day, were mainly instrumental in forwarding this great work. That amiable, able, and conscientious nobleman, the Earl of Liverpool, had succumbed to the effects of a paralytic stroke, and the Duke of Wellington was now Premier; he took the greatest interest in the promotion of London Bridge and everything connected with it; so that the Corporation of London, who had hitherto been radically inclined, or had rather been opposed to the Tory Government, turned rather Conservative than otherwise, and the Duke became most popular with them; he invariably, whenever he could, accepted their invitations to Guildhall and the Mansion House, and was always received by them with the greatest respect and attention. Richard Lambert Jones, the Chairman of the London Bridge Committee, was his particular favourite, and he always shook Jones by the hand, a favour which he did not accord to everyone.

At this time the bridge had made considerable progress towards completion, and the important question arose, what was the best plan for the approaches? It was originally intended, in order to save expense, that the old line of Fish Street Hill, on the City side, should be adopted, pulling down such of the houses on this line as might be necessary to make the incline not steeper than 1 in 30; but inasmuch as the great traffic of Upper and Lower Thames Street interposed materially with the main body of the traffic coming north and south, it became most important to consider how this might be avoided, and the old idea of making an arch over Thames Street was revived, and was favourably received by the London Bridge Committee; the question was accordingly referred by them to me. I had always felt that the old approach by Fish Street Hill was a very great difficulty; but, restricted as I was to the old line of approach, I felt that I could not get out of it without some pressing necessity; I was therefore glad to have the opportunity of reconsidering the subject, particularly when proposed by the Committee. It was quite clear, that in any case an arch over Thames Street to separate the great cart traffic of that quarter from the main coach and passenger traffic coming from the City, Southwark, and the northern and southern parts of the town, was absolutely necessary, and I should have proposed it myself in the first instance, if there had at that time been any chance of its adoption, and I am quite sure that my father would have done the same. But if it had been proposed to divert the traffic from the old line of Fish Street Hill at the first, it is most probable that it would never have been carried; I was obliged, therefore, to confine myself to the old approaches, leaving the future to develop itself. The Committee, however, having taken up the idea of an arch over Thames Street, I was only too happy to fall in with it; but as nothing could be done without the sanction of the Government, it was determined by the Committee to bring the subject before them at once; the more so, as it would require a much larger sum than originally calculated to make the approaches, for which the Committee had no funds, and a new Act of Parliament would be required. Plans and estimates were accordingly prepared for the new approaches, and submitted to His Majesty’s Government. The Duke of Wellington took the greatest interest in the subject, and investigated it to the fullest extent; he visited the place himself, he interrogated the Chairman of the Committee and myself most closely, and at length, being fully convinced that it was necessary, gave the consent of the Government, provided that the funds could be found. In order to meet this difficulty, the Committee proposed to increase the coal tax, which, with the necessary sinking fund, would pay off the whole sum necessary to make the new approaches, which were estimated at 1,400,000l., in a given number of years. The Government consented to this, and the requisite notices, plans, &c., were given and deposited in the month of November, 1828.

Early in 1829 the Bill was brought into Parliament, and was most strongly opposed by the great northern coal-owners, Lord Durham, Lord Londonderry, Lord Lauderdale, and others, as well as by a considerable body of Londoners, and after a hard fight the Bill passed the House of Commons and got into the Lords; but here the opposition was more violent and powerful than ever. The Duke of Wellington, however, having been thoroughly convinced of the necessity and justice of the measure, determined that it should be carried if possible, whilst the Opposition were equally determined to throw it out. The Committee accordingly met in the Painted Chamber of the House of Lords, and the extraordinary number of forty peers, including seven cabinet ministers, assembled, the Duke of Wellington being in the chair. The Opposition comprised, amongst others, Earl Grey, his son-in-law the Earl of Durham, the Marquis of Londonderry, the Earl of Lauderdale, &c. Such a committee upon a private Bill has never since been seen in the Lords, and perhaps never will be again. The brunt of the battle fell upon me; I was the leading witness, and had to establish the whole case. I never felt more nervous in my life; I was to be prepared upon all points to defend everybody else’s errors as well as my own. I knew there were several weak points, and though I had an excellent case upon the whole, I still felt the greatest difficulty about it; I knew also perfectly well, that if I broke down, my career as an engineer was ruined for ever, for the Government had pinned their faith upon me; I therefore had made myself thoroughly master of the subject, and determined to sink or swim with it. Mr. W. Montague, then surveyor to the City, was a very sensible, practical man, and of great experience in the valuation of property, and possessed considerable influence with the Corporation; but whether it was jealousy at my being so much younger than himself, or whether he thought the post of honour should have been given to him, I cannot say, but he did not act cordially with me. That very remarkable man, Richard Lambert Jones, the Chairman of the Bridge, with his usual tact and sagacity, at once saw this, and thought that if he was examined there might be some discrepancy which our enemies would take advantage of; he therefore, with the concurrence of his Committee, determined that I alone should fight the battle of the estimates, upon which the whole fate of the Bill depended. It was well, both for Montague and myself, that this course was taken; for Montague, when the first Bill of 1821 was carried, had made the surveys of the property to be taken for the approaches on both sides of the bridge, which was confined to 180 feet above the old bridge. This limit ought to have been taken in a direct line, at right angles to the old bridge; but unfortunately it was taken according to the line of the shore, which near the old bridge receded considerably, whilst the old Fishmongers’ Hall projected beyond it, making the direct line, if taken, as it ought to have been, at right angles to the old bridge, 20 feet longer than if measured according to the line of the shore. This difference of 20 feet rendered it necessary that old Fishmongers’ Hall should be removed, and negotiations immediately commenced between the London Bridge Committee and the Fishmongers’ Company with respect to the purchase of this piece of land. The Fishmongers’ Company behaved very fairly; they said that they did not wish to build a new hall, as the existing structure answered their purpose very well; but if they were compelled to part with this 20 feet of ground, they must build a new hall, which they did not want to do. However, as they had no wish to impede the construction of the bridge and approaches, they were willing to sell the strip of land on which part of their hall stood, namely, 20 feet in width, for 20,000l. 1000l. per foot at first sight appeared a very large sum, although at present it would be considered remarkably cheap. The Committee of the bridge, looking at the matter fairly, resolved to pay the Fishmongers’ Company the required sum in full compensation for everything, and the Fishmongers’ Company might, if they thought fit, build a new hall at their own expense. This agreement was then settled, provided that the Bill for making the new approaches by an arch across Thames Street should pass the legislature. Knowing this fact, I was very anxious that this error of Mr. Montague’s should not come out before the Committee of the House of Lords, as it was no doubt a great mistake, and if it had transpired, it might materially have injured our case. I determined, therefore, during my examination, to keep it out of view as far as possible; at the same time, if it was fairly put to me, of course I felt myself bound to give every honest explanation. Perhaps Mr. Montague was not anxious to be examined; anyhow, he was not, and the whole burthen fell upon me.

The opposition in the Lords’ Committee was headed by the Earl of Durham, a very able and intelligent man; he would have made an excellent lawyer if Providence had so designed it, and in this instance he conducted his case admirably. I got through the examination in chief very well, and the opposing counsel commenced his cross-examination, and made nothing of it. Then Lord Durham got up and for three days I underwent as severe a cross-examination as I ever experienced, either before or since. He seemed to be aware of all the facts, and omitted nothing to render his case triumphant. I always feared that he was coming to the mistake about Fishmongers’ Hall, but he never did, and I had to lead him away from it as far as possible; at last he got to the frontages in the different streets of the respective parishes which were proposed to be taken, and the new frontages of the new streets which were to be erected. Here I showed very clearly that the lineal frontage according to the proposed new streets would be greater than the frontages taken away. This, however, did not satisfy his Lordship, for he contended that some of the parishes would lose a great deal more frontage than they would obtain. I had some idea that this would be the case, and therefore did not think it necessary to take the individual frontage gained and lost by each parish. I thought it was quite sufficient to know that upon the whole a greater line of frontage would be given by the new approaches, than taken away from the old. The parishes which had petitioned against the Bill on this account, argued that in some of them the rates would be greatly diminished, and that in others they would be greatly increased, which would cause an unequal and unjust distribution. I still kept to my point, and said upon the whole, without going into detail, the parishes would be the gainers, and it was for them to adjust the rates amongst themselves. Lord Durham was very indignant at my obstinacy in maintaining this point, and tried in every way to make me confess that I had made a mistake; I nevertheless stuck to it, and said that if I had tried to equalize all the frontages, my survey might have extended to the Tower, and there would have been no end of the expense. By this time he was losing his temper, and said that if I was not very careful I might go to the Tower still. At this the Committee smiled, and his Lordship, being fairly baffled, sat down, and I, having been told that they had no further questions, left the witness-box with the greatest alacrity.

It was considered that I had made out the case for the Bill so completely, both as regards the estimates and the absolute necessity, in a public point of view, of carrying the new approaches into effect, that no other professional witness was put into the box, except the present able chamberlain, Mr. Scott, then chamberlain’s chief assistant, who gave such clear and straightforward evidence with regard to the funds which were disposable by the Corporation, and the way in which they were administered, that the Committee of the Lords passed the Bill for the London Bridge Approaches with but few dissentient voices. The Duke of Wellington, and five or six Cabinet Ministers with him, attended every day, and in fact kept Parliament sitting to pass the Bill. It was curious to observe that he never for a moment interrupted the opponents of the measure; he gave them full scope, and never said a word until they had had their say, then he put the question, and carried it without difficulty.

After the fifth arch, the first on the Surrey side, was keyed, the sinking was observed to be 4 inches, or about 1 inch more than the others. I could not very well account for this. I also observed that two of the quoins on the south-east end of the fourth arch from the Surrey shore had splintered off at the soffit, but no crack could be observed in the spandril walls; but upon levelling the piers, it was found that the east end had subsided from 10 to 14 inches more than the upper or west end. This I could account for in no other way but that there had been a greater scour here than at the upper end, and that the piles had to some extent been laid bare. I levelled the arches and piers constantly after this for several months from a fixed standard gauge, but could find no alteration; I therefore felt satisfied that the whole of the pier abutments had come to their final bearing, and the works were continued as fast as possible towards completion.

In 1830 the Duke’s Government retired, and he himself became as unpopular as he before had been popular; yet he never deserted London Bridge, and was more frequent in his visits than ever. I often used to attend him at five and six in the summer mornings; he generally came on horseback, and remained from half an hour to an hour, and sometimes more if necessary. At length the whole bridge and the approaches were completed, and His Majesty, King William, at the special request of the Corporation of London, condescended to fix a day on which he would open the bridge in person. Earl Grey, who had strongly opposed the Bill for the improved approaches two years before, now, as Premier, accompanied His Majesty to inaugurate the opening of the same. Perhaps, as a spectacle of the kind, it was the most brilliant of any that had taken place for fully a century; and the whole Corporation, including the Bridge Committee, did everything in their power, for the honour of the City of London, to render the pageant as splendid as possible. The whole of the space at the north or City end of the bridge was covered with a magnificent tent, several hundred feet long, decorated in the greatest taste with the flags of all nations, and with ancient and modern arms grouped round the standards forming the supports of the tent, under which were arranged tables for 1400 guests, for whom a splendid collation was provided. His Majesty, King William, came in the royal barge in state, accompanied by all his ministers, and upon his arrival was greeted with a salute of twenty-one guns from the Tower. All the piers and arches were decorated with lofty standards displaying the national emblems; the whole of these, as well as the great tent and decorations, were under the direction of Mr. Stacey, of the Ordnance department of the Tower, and the greatest credit is due to him for the admirable taste which he displayed. The ceremony consisted in King William walking over the bridge, accompanied by his ministers, the Lord Mayor and Corporation, and the Bridge Committee. When His Majesty arrived at the Southwark end a balloon ascended, carrying Mr. Richard Crawshay; the Tower guns then sent forth another salute, and King William and his cortège returned to the tent at the City end of the bridge, where they partook of lunch with the usual ceremonies, and returned by water as they came, with another royal salute from the Tower. The day was remarkably fine, the river was covered with boats filled with gaily-dressed people; the wharves, warehouses, and bridges were thronged with spectators; in fact, it was a great metropolitan holiday; everything went off well, and all appeared to be satisfied; I was particularly so. I had been very hard worked, I may say almost night and day, for some time past, to get things ready, and was of course rather tried; nevertheless, the success which attended the whole rendered me completely unmindful of myself, and I forgot all my fatigues, for I was amply rewarded for all my troubles and anxieties.

A few days after the opening of London Bridge, Jeffreys, the cheesemonger of Ludgate Hill, presented a petition to Parliament through the well-known Henry Hunt, stating that the new bridge was coming down. Jeffreys was very much annoyed because he had received no recompense for his repeated proposals with regard to the new approaches, though he was never regularly employed; but he was one of those active, intelligent persons, who are always interfering in matters which do not concern them. If he had devoted himself to his own business he might have done well; but, unfortunately, he neglected this, and fancied himself a great engineer, a post for which he was absurdly incompetent. He mistook his vocation, and in attempting to do that for which he was wholly unfit, he neglected the business of a tradesman, for which he was thoroughly suited. The petition ended in its being referred to a Commission, consisting of J. Walker, Telford, and Tierney Clark, who examined the bridge carefully and made their report, which was colourless and came to nothing, as the subsidence spoken of had taken place two years and a half before, and had not increased, nor has it done so up to the present day.

In all works of great magnitude, and particularly in such a difficult situation as that in which London Bridge is built, it is impossible to be certain of attaining absolute perfection, but the Committee, being perfectly satisfied of the stability of the new bridge, determined to remove the old one forthwith, and I received orders accordingly. The removal was contracted for by Messrs. Jolliffe and Banks, for the sum of 10,000l., they having the benefit of the old materials, except in so far that they were to fill up the holes in the river below both bridges, to the extent of 14 feet below low water of spring tides, which was rather more than the average depth of the river in the vicinity; they were also bound to remove the whole of the foundations of the piers, starlings, &c., of the old bridge, to the same depth. The whole of these operations were completed in the year 1834, when the river, after a lapse of 658 years, was restored to its natural state.

The history of old London Bridge is replete with interest, and forms a very curious epoch in the annals of bridge building before the embankment of the river Thames by the Romans. The Southwark side, which is in many places considerably below the level of high water of spring tides, was frequently flooded, and numerous creeks were formed in it, so that the river must have been very unequal in its depth, and filled with numerous shoals, and fordable at low water in several places near London; and there was evidently an appearance of a ford at the site of old London Bridge, as in many cases the piers were founded on the original ground, which must have been dry, or nearly so, at low water; these piers were in many instances wider than the adjoining arches, so that they offered considerable obstruction to the free flow of the tidal and fresh waters through the bridge. These obstructions necessarily increased the velocity and scour of the current, and threatened to carry away the old bridge. Great starlings, or timber casings of piles, were erected round the bridge piers, and the spaces between them were filled in with chalk. These starlings still further narrowed the openings of the arches, so that at low water some of them were little more than 8 or 10 feet wide, and the obstructions became so great, that the fall at low water increased to 5 feet perpendicular. Five openings on the south end and one in the north end were occupied by water-wheels for pumping water for the City. The obstruction caused by these works was so great that the celebrated Smeaton was employed by the Corporation of London to take down the two arches near the centre, and replace them by a single one of 80 feet span.

The original bridge is said to have been built in the year 1176; but between that time and the period of its removal in 1834, it underwent so many alterations and changes that it may almost be said to have been rebuilt several times. It was originally covered with houses, as everyone knows, leaving a narrow passage between for the traffic. To describe the numerous alterations would require a large volume, and the reader is therefore referred to an interesting account of this curious old structure called ‘The Chronicles of Old London Bridge.’

Numerous speculations were made by scientific men, engineers and others, on the effect the removal of the old bridge would have upon the river. My father pointed out the probable results in a very simple manner; he said that the river was in an artificial state in consequence of the old bridge acting as a dam to the free passage of the waters upwards and downwards, both tidal and fresh; and the consequence was, that the river above had to a certain extent accommodated itself to circumstances. By the removal of this obstruction the river would soon be reduced to its natural level; the fall of 4 to 5 feet through the bridge would be removed, consequently the tide would rise so much higher and fall so much lower above bridge, and so much more tidal water would be admitted above the old bridge throughout the whole length of the tidal flow as far as Teddington Lock; and this increased quantity of tidal water passing up and down twice each way during the twenty-four hours would scour the bed of the river, and thus remove the great quantity of mud deposited along the shores. And further, that the drainage of the metropolis, and in fact the whole valley of the Thames, at least as far as Teddington, would be greatly improved; and the water, being constantly changed, would be clearer and fresher. He further said, that the actual level of high water would scarcely be materially affected, perhaps not exceeding 5 or 6 inches; and lastly, that the process would be gradual, and that it would take several years before the river would attain its final and natural state. Such has proved to be the result.

As the works of new London Bridge proceeded attention was drawn to the irregular outline of the wharves, which were not only unsightly but extremely injurious to the regular passage of the waters. At this time also, people having visited Paris and other great continental cities, were struck with the architectural beauties which they had seen, and became much disgusted with the mean, shabby-looking appearance of London; and well they might, for there were no great leading thoroughfares worthy of the name. Cockspur Street, leading from the Strand to Pall Mall, was scarcely 20 feet wide; the Royal Mews occupied Trafalgar Square; the Haymarket was encumbered by haycarts; Cross’s Menagerie and Exeter Change blocked up the Strand near Waterloo Bridge; the connection between Holborn and Oxford Street was round by old St. Giles’, and Farringdon Street was filled with a market, and surrounded by undertakers. Regent Street had been commenced under the direction of that clever architect Nash, which, from his novel mode of grouping shops into distinct masses of different styles, excited considerable attention, and was totally different to anything we had hitherto seen in the metropolis. This great and really magnificent street was, I am told, entirely his own idea, and according to the opinion of the late Sir Robert Smirke, was a Herculean task, on account of the great variety of interests to be dealt with, and he told me that nobody but the indefatigable Nash could have carried it through. He built a house there for himself, now the Gallery of Illustration, opposite to the Club Chambers near Waterloo Place, where George IV. honoured him with a visit. In fact, just about this time there was a perfect mania for architectural improvements.