The Run of the Town

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

This was my first day completely on my own to enjoy London as I see fit.  Note, however, that the only thing better than that would be to enjoy London in the company of CJ.

I started the day by taking the tube to Tottenham Court Road (near the British Museum) and setting off toward Trafalgar Square on Charing Cross Road, the home of many book shops.  I intended to visit them all and, in fact, did visit all the shops that did not specialize in dirty books, New Age, fantasy (same thing), or equally silly topics.  First however, this being London, nothing is straightforward and I ended up taking a wrong turn and eventually having to consult a map which, fortunately, are commonly posted along the streets.

Finally getting that sorted out (Britishism), I found the right street and proceeded with my quest for Victorian novels in inexpensive editions dating from the late 19th or early 20th century.  As I recall from my last trip to London in 1985 (argh, way too long ago), such books were quite thick on the ground and we bought so many we had to ship them home separately.  Sadly, it seems that times have changed.

There was not even one book by Hardy or Trollope (my target authors) or anyone of the vintage and price range I had in mind.  Near the end of my search I entered Cecil Court, of fond memory (we bought our 1790 map of Britain there in 1985) only to find they have gone upscale and have nothing affordable.

I walked into a shop and asked about Hardy novels.  The clerk opened a locked case (a bad sign) and hands me a nice looking volume of... well I forget which book, it doesn't matter.  I asked the price and the reply was 1000 pounds!!  That's $1600 for those of you keeping score at home.  I casually said that was a tiny bit outside my price range.  The clerk explained that since the shops in Cecil Court are so small, they have to stock expensive merchandise to make the business work.  So apparently their market is status-seeking rich people rather than people who just love books and reading.

This reminds me of the room I am sitting in right now which has a beautiful set of Dickens' works (1863) and a similarly wonderful set of Byron's works (1879) both of which seem untouched by human hands.  But I digress.

Upon completing this fruitless quest, I started another.  My plan had been to spend the afternoon at the Courtauld Gallery but, since I was at the front door of the National Portrait Gallery, I decided to spend some time there.

After eating my homemade lunch of cheese sandwich and apple while sitting on a wall in Trafalgar Square (the admiral still stands atop his column, his bicorne hat worn athwartships as Jack Aubrey would say), I proceeded to the NPG and took a look around.  My quest was to see the only known portrait of "probably" George Vancouver, he of first accurate map of Puget Sound fame.  It seems no one knows for sure, but it is thought to be him.  No luck. However, I did find his mentor, James Cook.

Captain Cook

In addition, I saw the only known portrait of Jane Austen, a pencil drawing by her sister Cassandra.  It is about the size of a postcard, and is kept in a glass box with gold edges for protection from the caresses of her zillions of fans.

Here are a few other Britishers I thought worthy of recording:

Michael Faraday who discovered electrical induction, the phenomenon that generates the electricity allowing you to be reading this

Joseph Banks, naturalist extraordinaire, and president of the Royal Society

Charles Darwin.  Refreshingly, he is
respected in Britain rather than vilified as is so often the case in the US

"Probably" George Vancouver. This is what I had hoped to see.  It is in the collection but not on display.  Note the globe shows the west coast of North America.

I didn't photograph it (that seemed disrespectful), but the first portrait I saw was of William Shakespeare.  Painted in the early 1600s, it was the first portrait purchased by the NPG in 1856.  Here it is.  I felt like I was looking into his eyes.

The Bard himself

Afterwards, I went to the British Museum and visited the sculptures from the Parthenon once more.  Powering through what seemed like endless numbers of Chinese tour groups in the Egyptian exhibits, I arrived in the presence of the sculptures and stood for a while in silent contemplation of their magnificence and of ancient Greek civilization. 

Arriving back at our posh accommodations, we had a home cooked dinner (thanks to Charlotte) and afterwards CJ and I took a walk in the neighborhood which is locally known as Little Venice.  Here is why:

Little Venice

More of the canal

Thus ends another exciting day in London.