Category Archives: London

Can you imagine how excited I was to round the corner and there it was, its twin towers reaching to the sky? Westminster ABBEY, baby! And yet… my first thought was, it’s smaller than I expected. How silly is that? But it’s true. I’ve been blessed in my life to have visited some spectacular cathedrals in Germany and Italy, and I just assumed this one would dwarf them all in size. It didn’t – at least from my opening view approaching the western facade.

Still, there’s no denying it’s a gorgeous building. I often try to imagine what it would have been like to live in the eras during which these gargantuan churches, these enormous cathedrals were built. We’re so used to skyscrapers now, to big, fancy buildings that soar numerous stories above us. Many of the buildings in the west end of London felt that way to me – huge stone edifices looking down on the ants wandering about below. But to see these religious houses in a time during which most other buildings would have been only a few stories high, if that? And built out of wood? How could you NOT believe in God in the face of such grandeur?

Yeah, yeah, I’m venturing into purple prose here, but truly, that’s how the medieval churches always strike me – places of beauty, of immense power, of a different kind of air, a holy air. I love them, and seek out these grand cathedrals whenever I get the opportunity (not many options for that here in Virginia).

I admired the outside of the Abbey for a while, and the buildings around it. I don’t even know what all of them were, since none were labelled on my simple map, but I liked the one to the side of the Abbey. Working my way toward the Abbey entrance, I could see that a line had formed, but it didn’t look too bad. I walked back to its end and found myself staring at the backside of Parliament, although it took my idiotic American brain a few minutes to figure that out (Big Ben helped a lot)! So many icons so close together – the history geek inside me was once again going nuts.

As I waited, I snapped a few pictures of the outside of the Abbey, and particularly enjoyed the carvings over the front entranceway. Again, I tried to imagine the people who had actually built the church. Not just the master carvers whose finished work we admire, but the people who laid the basic stone. What were their lives like?

Inside the Abbey photography is not permitted, so I have no snapshots from there. But like the multitude of other tourists milling about, I partook of the free audio guide and strolled around the Abbey in the prescribed fashion, admiring the architecture, particularly the black and white floor, and listening to history in my ears.

Truly, there is so much to see inside that it’s overwhelming. So many famous people buried there – kings and queens (Elizabeth and Mary!), Chaucer, Isaac Newton, Darwin… truly humbling and exhilarating at the same time to be sharing the same space with them (so to speak). I meandered around, trying to soak it all in. After making my way through the interior, I walked along the inside courtyard and back to a small museum that housed original clothing of famous Britons, including Admiral Lord Nelson.

 I wanted to admire the peaceful inner courtyard, and did take a few pictures. But I was also on a deadline, since I needed to head over to the Victoria and Albert museum while I had the chance, before my husband returned from his conference. So reluctantly I left the Abbey behind, made a quick stop in the gift shop to get small items for my kids, and headed off north to the V&A.

In hindsight, I wish I’d spent more time in the area. Then again, it was clear I wasn’t going to have time for everything I wanted to do. Not nearly. I was also sorry that my husband hadn’t been able to come with me. I know he would have liked it. (He was sorry later, too, because what I DID drag him on were more Regency walks – but that’s coming up in a future installment…)

Long before my husband whisked me off to London, back when such a trip had only seemed a far-off fantasy, I’d purchased two books by Regency romance writer Louise Allen: Walks Through Regency London, and Walking Jane Austen’s London. Both, I felt, would be invaluable tools for me as a researcher, for even though I knew of all sorts of famous names and places (Almack’s, Grosvenor Square, Hyde Park, St. George’s), what I didn’t have a sense of was how close or far these places were to each other. How long would it have taken a gentleman to get from his club at White’s over to Tattersall’s to check out the horses? (Answer: not long.) To have someone “walk” me through the streets of London (aided by the absolutely magnificent Google maps Street View, invaluable for writers who can’t travel to each and every place they wish to describe!) while sitting in my home in Virginia – I couldn’t imagine anything better. Except, of course, walking those streets for real myself. You can bet these guides were one of the first things I packed!

After sleeping in just a bit and enjoying a leisurely hotel breakfast, my husband headed off to his conference and I struck out on my own down Piccadilly toward the famous St. James’s street. St James’s, the area in which Regency dandies went to see and be seen and bachelors often took their lodgings. St. James’s, home to exclusive boot makers, hatters, wine merchants, and numerous gentlemen’s clubs (not quite like the, ahem, euphemistically named “gentlemen’s clubs”, i.e. strip clubs, in the U.S. today). In the British gentlemen’s clubs of the Regency era, women weren’t allowed, plain and simple. Men gathered to discuss politics, drink, wager, play cards, and probably numerous other things about which I am sadly uninformed.

I learned from reading Allen’s guidebook that St. James’s wasn’t quite as lady-free as often depicted, however. After all, in 1807 a woman did have a corset shop right at no. 56 (Allen, Regency London, 4). Still, it was commonly accepted that no well-born Regency lady would venture down St. James’ street alone, without being in the company of a man.

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how one chooses to view it), I’m no well-born lady and 200 years after the Regency period I was free to stroll down the street as much as I wished. While I still couldn’t gain entry into the gentlemen’s clubs even if I wanted to (neither can many men, for that matter), I could photograph their outsides. I could, um, peek through the windows. I could try to imagine what it would have been like to be a man in that time period, although frankly I’m probably not very good at imagining what it’s truly like to be a man today.

This first morning I only took with me the Walking Regency London book, which I love for its historical detail. The only thing slightly frustrating was no maps were included in this early edition (there are wonderfully helpful maps in the Jane Austen version), so I had to walk slowly and stop often to orient myself with what the book was saying. And given that I don’t really understand the British numbering system along streets, it took me a bit! (Apparently they number down one side and up the other, so it’s perfectly plausible for no. 7 to be opposite no. 63, which was admittedly more confusing than it should have been for this American girl. I blame it on jet lag.) And heck, I was going to walk slowly and stop often anyway to take it all in, so I was grateful to have such a guide in my hands, because I know there was no way I would be able to find/pick out all the sites Louise Allen included in her books.

The first famous Regency landmark upon which I stumbled, and the one I was most excited about seeing, was White’s, the infamous gentlemen’s club that appears in about every Regency novel I’ve read. As Louise Allen says, it “was not just the oldest, but also the smartest and most exclusive of the Regency clubs.” I snapped several pics from across the street, trying to take it all in while simultaneously enjoying the gorgeous architecture itself. What would it have been like to be a member there? What really went on behind those doors? 

I wondered the same thing when I moved slightly farther south on the street and found Brook’s, another quite famous gentleman’s club. This one was harder to get decent pictures of, given the strong morning sun, but I did my best. Brook’s was also famous for high-stakes gambling. In fact, according to Allen, there were as many as 24 gaming hells (gambling places) in the St. James area alone in the early 19th century. I guess what happens in St. James’s stays in St. James’s, eh?

I couldn’t believe all the famous names springing out at me from the page: Boodle’s (yet another club), Fenton’s (a hotel at no. 63, although the current building at that address is a modern one), wine merchants Berry Bros & Rudd. I probably hopped up and down in glee several times. Thank goodness nobody seemed to care or take any notice of an American geeking out that morning. I even got to enter Lock & co, a hat makers with its original 1810 store front, and check out the building, as well as some very old hats it had over its front counter. It was humbling to imagine Beau Brummel or Lord Nelson standing in those same spots, ordering hats (although perhaps in reality a servant did that for them – I don’t know).

Upon reaching the end of St. James’s street, I found myself gawking at St. James’s Palace, “one of the chief royal residences until Buckingham House was enlarged for George IV in the 1830s” (Allen, Regency London, 3). Sandwiched in with all of the buildings around it, perhaps it looks a little less impressive than it once did, but it was still a sight to behold. I’d hoped to possibly go inside, but it’s closed to the public. This palace, I learned, housed the British monarchy for nearly 300 years, from the early 16th century up until the early 19th. Think about the famous people who once strolled its halls!

Next I headed east along Pall Mall – THE Pall Mall. According to Allen, “Pall Mall was lined with clubs, hotels, insurance agents, and upmarket shops such as the fashionable drapers, Harding Howell, & Co.” It was also “the first London street to be gas-lit in 1807 as a temporary display for George III’s birthday” (Allen, Regency London, 3). Carlton House, the Prince Regent’s lavish mansion, used to be along Pall Mall, but he had it demolished in 1827. Apparently once he became king in 1820, he decided Carlton House simply wasn’t kingly enough.

I wanted to linger and explore some of the side streets and find St. James’s Square, but I’d actually struck out early on purpose, and that was so that I could get to Westminster Abbey near its opening hour and hopefully avoid what were rumored to be perpetually long entrance lines (this is one of the reasons I didn’t wait and go with hubby in the late afternoon). So instead I cut through near the Duke of York’s column and headed south to the Abbey. Along the way I skirted the edges of St. James’s park, another gorgeous green space, and caught sight of these fancy people driving horse and buggies, although I’ve no clue as to the occasion.

Everywhere I looked took my breath away. Yes, there are ordinary, mundane parts of London: garbage cans and dirty cars and all of that. There are loud noises and construction and tourists galore. But, oh, how magnificent the buildings, and how much history contained within such a small, walkable area. The air felt different – big, grand, mysterious. I was an American girl ambling through Regency London, and I was having a ball!

(to be continued…)

Can you believe that I actually considered skipping the Tower of London as I was planning out our itinerary? We only had four days, after all, and I was trying to focus as much on Regency era things as I could…

However, the medievalist in me insisted it just wouldn’t be right. How can one go to London and not see the infamous tower, the earliest parts of which were built by William the Conqueror in the late 11th century?!? Plus, I reasoned, not only did 21st century tourist me want to see the Tower, but I was sure 19th c Regency folk would have, too. Therefore we HAD to go. I’m so glad we did.

Although we were leery of venturing off to the Tower on a weekend, Sunday was the day in which it best fit with our plans. Surprisingly it wasn’t overwhelmingly crowded when we got there, although there were numerous people, to be sure. The crisp blue sky and delectably cool temperatures (and lack of rain!) made it an ideal day for perusing centuries of history.

I snapped a picture immediately upon emerging from the Tube stop – but the bright sun, which was so great in many ways, made it hard to get good shots. We also stopped briefly to look at the Roman Wall – one of the last remnants of the original Roman wall built in the 3rd century A.D. that had encircled Londonium. It was just so exhilarating to think of the history right under our feet, right in front of us – and to know that the Romans had trod upon the very places in which we stood.

The Tower is certainly impressive-looking. I love, love, love medieval castles and anything built out of stone, so I was gasping with delight as we walked along the Tower’s edge. I knew the Tower had played a key role in British history, obviously, but will admit to doing a little bit of reading once back home to refresh my memory. Control of the Tower often went hand-in-hand with controlling England, and battles between kings and barons for it were common in the medieval period. Throughout the centuries kings and queens took refuge in the Tower to avoid capture/being overthrown. It had actually been the royal residence in its earlier years, but by the 16th century had declined enough to mostly be used as a prison or for other government duties, but not as living quarters for the royals.

We opted not to take a formal tour, which I now rather regret, figuring that we were pretty tired at this point and didn’t want to wait around for a tour to start; we’d rather take the map and strike out on our own. However, we hardly needed the map – all we had to do was follow the people in front of us as we wove in and out of towers in an orderly procession.

In spite of all the tourists, and even in spite of knowing many parts of the Tower had been restore/repaired/redone in the 19th century, it was amazing to stop and try to picture the people who would have walked where I was walking, centuries before me. William the Conqueror. Richard the Lion-Hearted. Walter Raleigh. Henry VIII. Anne Boleyn was executed here in 1536. The Princes in the Tower had found their untimely end here in 1483. Although the Tower’s reputation for torture and executions has apparently been greatly exaggerated, it was still sobering to think of all the people who had been held there, who had been tortured there, who had been executed there. It was still awe-inspiring to think of all the major figures in history who had wandered through the same places that I was wandering, who’d slept within the halls of the tower, who’d lived their lives in times so different from our own it’s often difficult for me to try to even comprehend.

Here we were, 21st century tourists, roaming freely throughout a place that in centuries past would have been limited to a certain segment of the population, would have been feared and hated, would have dealt continuously with the threat of attack. We could touch the walls of the prison cells, admire the armor worn by soldiers of times past, see the Crown Jewels… I don’t know, it all just felt amazing, to realize we were walking freely and safely in an area in which for hundreds of years that wouldn’t have been possible, especially for a commoner like me.

We strolled along walls and through various towers. Some had been living chambers, some prison cells. Seeing the “graffiti” carved into the walls by people who’d been held there in centuries past was quite moving to me. I stood still a few times, trying to picture men and women laboriously carving evidence of their existence – and imprisonment – into these very walls. Did they know that 500 years later people would be poring over their etchings?

After walking through a tower which held replicas of many of the royals’ crowns (sans real jewels, of course), we found ourselves in the inner courtyard, and could see a marvelous-looking stone building that we soon figured out was the Waterloo Barracks, built in 1845, which currently houses the Crown Jewels display. We were apparently quite lucky to get in line when we did – we walked right in the front of the building, although we could tell from the metal queue guides, and the comments of the people around us, that the line often extended way out beyond the building and wait times could soar to more than an hour. Still, once inside it was a long, slow process of shuffling ahead. The Tower has done a marvelous job of creating multimedia displays, however, for people to watch and listen to while waiting to actually get to the Jewels.

And what did we think of the Jewels? Everything was impressive, but not as wowy zowy as I had expected – maybe in part because it was hard to get a good look at much, since there were SO MANY PEOPLE in there and the line had to keep moving forward steadily. I also kept hoping to find the spot where Moriarty put on the royal regalia in that episode of Sherlock (it was the Reichenbach Fall, wasn’t it?), but never did see anything that looked exactly like the glass case in which he had sat. I guess this just means I need to watch the episode again.

After touring the Crown Jewels, we went into the White Tower itself, the central and oldest part of the Tower complex. It was the first stone keep in England, built under William the Conqueror himself, starting around 1078. Now it houses a huge collection of armor, as well as educational displays about the Tower compound. I learned that the Royal Mint, now in Wales, had been housed in the Tower itself for centuries. I also found a pretty awesome-looking steam punk dragon, although I have no idea how it fit into anything. I didn’t care – it was cool.

Outside as we wandered around we often noticed metal wire sculptures of animals. These, we learned, were to remind people the Tower had also housed a menagerie (fancy word for zoo) since medieval times. Medieval kings often received unusual animals as gifts, and polar bears, lions, and even elephants had once roamed the Tower grounds. According to Wikipedia,

“By the 18th century, the menagerie was open to the public; admission cost three half-pence or the supply of a cat or dog to be fed to the lions. In 1828 there were over 280 animals representing at least 60 species. The last of the animals left in 1835, relocated to Regents Park, after one of the lions was accused of biting a soldier.”

You can bet some of my characters will end up there in future Regency books, although I’m hoping they forgo the custom of supplying household pets as a meal.

All in all, visiting the Tower was a very satisfying, moving experience, even as my feet were now loudly proclaiming their fatigue, along with the rest of me.

We thought about roaming around The City, as the central square mile of London proper is called, or visiting Tower Bridge (hubby did snap a pic of me standing on the Tower walls with Tower Bridge in the background), but frankly we were exhausted and decided the next thing we needed to do was check into the hotel and crash for a quick nap.

Later that evening we went back down along Piccadilly to the theatre area, and grabbed some pizza at the Pizza Express on the corner of Haymarket and Panton (how American sounding, but they had pizzas on the menu that were different from the kinds typically seen here. I ended up ordering a sloppy joe pizza – spicy, but good!). No Colin Morgan sightings (for one thing, it was Sunday, and I knew Mojo didn’t run on Sundays), but it was a great way to end a wonderful first day in London.

After admiring a bit of London at night (since it got dark quite early there), we were happy to hole up in the hotel and plan out the next day… and sleep some more!