"O, never mind it!" said an Englishman who
happened to be passing by. When I had my trunk fetched from the
ship in a boat, the waterman rowed among the boats, and his boy, who
stood at the head of his boat, got a sound drubbing, because the
others would not let him pass: "O, never mind it!" said the old
one, and kept rowing on.
The Germans who have been here any time almost constantly make use
of Anglicisms, such as "es will nicht thun" (it will not do),
instead of es ist nicht hinlanglich (it is not sufficient), and many
such. Nay, some even say, "Ich habe es nicht geminded" (I did not
mind it), instead of ich habe mich nicht daran errinnert, oder daran
gedacht (I did not recollect it, or I did not think of it).
You can immediately distinguish Englishmen when they speak German,
by their pronunciation according to the English manner; instead of
Ich befinde mich wohl, they say Ich befirmich u'hol (I am very
well), the w being as little noticed as u quickly sounded.
I have often heard, when directing any one in the street, the
phrase, "Go down the street as far as ever you can go, and ask
anybody." Just as we say, "Every child can direct you."
I have already noticed in England they learn to write a much finer
hand than with us. This probably arises from their making use of
only one kind of writing, in which the letters are all so exact that
you would take it for print.
In general, in speaking, reading, in their expressions, and in
writing, they seem, in England, to have more decided rules than we
have. The lowest man expresses himself in proper phrases, and he
who publishes a book, at least writes correctly, though the matter
be ever so ordinary. In point of style, when they write, they seem
to be all of the same country, profession, rank, and station.
The printed English sermons are beyond all question the best in the
world; yet I have sometimes heard sad, miserable stuff from their
pulpits. I have been in some churches where the sermons seem to
have been transcribed or compiled from essays and pamphlets; and the
motley composition, after all, very badly put together. It is said
that there are a few in London, by whom some of the English clergy
are supposed to get their sermons made for money.
CHAPTER XIV.
London, 18th July.
I write to you now for the last time from London; and, what is still
more, from St. Catherine's, one of the most execrable holes in all
this great city, where I am obliged to stay, because the great ships
arrive in the Thames here, and go from hence, and we shall sail as
soon as the wind changes. This it has just now done, yet still it
seems we shall not sail till to-morrow. To-day therefore I can
still relate to you all the little that I have farther noticed.
On Monday morning I moved from the Freemasons' Tavern to a public-
house here, of which the master is a German; and where all the
Hambro' captains lodge. At the Freemasons' Tavern, the bill for
eight days' lodging, breakfast, and dinner came to one guinea and
nine shillings and nine pence. Breakfast, dinner, and coffee were
always, with distinction, reckoned a shilling each. For my lodging
I paid only twelve shillings a week, which was certainly cheap
enough.
At the German's house in St. Catherine's, on the contrary,
everything is more reasonable, and you here eat, drink, and lodge
for half-a-guinea a week. Notwithstanding, however, I would not
advise anybody who wishes to see London, to lodge here long; for St.
Catherine's is one of the most out-of-the-way and inconvenient
places in the whole town.
He who lands here first sees this miserable, narrow, dirty street,
and this mass of ill-built, old, ruinous houses; and of course
forms, at first sight, no very favourable idea of this beautiful and
renowned city.
From Bullstrode Street, or Cavendish Square, to St. Catherine's, is
little less than half a day's journey. Nevertheless, Mr. Schonborn
has daily visited me since I have lived here; and I have always
walked back half-way with him. This evening we took leave of each
other near St. Paul's, and this separation cost me not a few tears.
I have had a very agreeable visit this afternoon from Mr. Hansen,
one of the assistants to the "Zollner book for all ranks of men" who
brought me a letter from the Rev. Mr. Zollner at Berlin, and just
arrived at London when I was going away. He is going on business to
Liverpool. I have these few days past, for want of better
employment, walked through several parts of London that I had not
before seen. Yesterday I endeavoured to reach the west end of the
town; and I walked several miles, when finding it was grown quite
dark, I turned back quite tired, without having accomplished my end.
Nothing in London makes so disgusting an appearance to a foreigner,
as the butchers' shops, especially in the environs of the Tower.
Guts and all the nastiness are thrown into the middle of the street,
and cause an insupportable stench.
I have forgot to describe the 'Change to you; this beautiful
building is a long square in the centre of which is an open area,
where the merchants assemble. All round, there are covered walks
supported by pillars on which the name of the different commercial
nations you may wish to find are written up, that among the crowd of
people you may be able to find each other.
