London is terrible; the whole place is like a poor persons market. The streets couldn’t be tighter packed if they tried to make them that way. The whole place smells, the open drains are blocked with the carcasses of dead animals and blood from the butchers and people are always throwing their waste into them from high up in their houses. The peasants run down the alleys with their sheep not caring about others on the street and as for people in carriages they are worse; they happily ride by splashing everyone else with disgusting rotten water. The port is greatly overcrowded with boats and we had to anchor up far out in the middle of the river to then row our way to shore. The water is a dirty brown and it has and horrific smell. The arches are mortifying; they have put human skulls all along the top. The weather is appalling, it is freezing cold and it is constantly raining.  We then went to the theatre: We had to queue for ages and if we weren’t careful we got our money taken by cutpurses. The theatre itself was OK but we were in the same room as the poor lot and at the end they splashed real blood on the people in the pit. Coming out of the theatre there was a fight that soon turned into a riot and then we were told that is was normal!  We where told that we where going to see the greatest view in London. We arrived at the church to find that it was just like a market: the mongers were even allowed to use the tombs as stalls it’s a disgrace to the lord. To get to the so called greatest view in London we had to climb up loads of tight dark spiral stairs only to get a view of the tightly packed timber houses that had to be a serious fire threat. All in all I much prefer Italy and cannot wait to get back. 

Dear Mother and Father,

London is such an amazing city! When we arrived it was raining heavily, but that didn’t matter as back home I was suffering from the dryness of the drought. When I think of how dry the riverbed near our home must be, it feels odd, as the river Thames is brown with mud. I thought that when our ship arrived in the port, we would be the only ones. How wrong I was! Such beautiful, tall-masted sailing ships with colourful goods from all around the world sailed into the river simultaneously as we did. It really was a marvellous sight. London is the busiest port of all the ones I have visited (and you know how much that is). The city is full of churches and tightly packed houses. I wonder how people manage their way around. I know I would certainly get lost in such old, narrow, winding streets. The first view I got after crossing the bridge was of skulls of traitors to the crown. The skulls are hung up on posts for all to see. I find that a remarkable way of telling people to obey the laws in England in general, and in London in particular.

The bridge itself is amazing as houses are built on either side of the street, shading the whole pathway. Even the though the Pont de Vecchio at home has the same structures, it is more impressive here in the biggest city I have ever seen. I felt almost as if was walking in a tunnel, a peculiar feeling I never get when walking on a bridge in Florence. We arrived in the morning, when people are taking down the shutters to the shop stalls. A flock of sheep passed us as our friend showed us around. I thought that the sheep would be outside the walls of the city, not in the city itself. Our dear friend explained to me that if the sheep were brought in live to the butcher, the meat he sold would be fresher. As a wagon steered passed us, swaying dangerously, mud splashed onto my cloak, as well as on my brother’s. He was quite upset about it and started grumbling about his new cloak and all. My cloak was an old one and had already been dirtied in the river, so, I didn’t really mind.

As we were walking in the streets, I suddenly smelt a foul odor, and I wondered what it was. That was soon explained: we saw the butchers, who hacked open carcasses of cows, throw the remains of them into the open street. My brother was absolutely disgusted but where else would they put them? Where else would people put the contents of chamber pots that they empty out of the windows?

The drains in the streets were blocked up by waste and a trickle (which smelt awful) was running through. Our comrade explained that the trickle of liquid was a mixture of urine, animal’s blood, and rainwater. He said it was sure it caused the plague. My brother wanted to get away as fast as possible.

Since the afternoon turned out to be pleasantly dry, our companion decided to take us to the theatre where a new play by Shakespeare was to be preformed. As we neared the theatre, I noticed a flag flying high on the roof of the theatre and was told that it was a sign that a play was about to commence. The crowd started splitting up into two and I was going to follow the stream of people going to the left, when our friend called me back. He said that the people leaving to the left were going to see a bearbaiting. This was when a bear was attached to a post while hounds leap at it. Brother thought it barbarian and cruel, but I think it is not much more different than the shows put up in out circuses in dear Italy.

When we finally arrived at the theatre, our companion led us to some staircases at the back of the theatre and told us that we were to sit in the high galleries, a place only rich people could afford. Below us were the individuals sitting in the lower galleries, and, standing up at the edge of the stage, were the poorest citizens, the ones who paid nothing or almost nothing to watch the play.

The tragedy performed on that sunny day was called “Romeo and Juliet”. It was spectacular! The crowd jeered in delight when the women (played by young boys) appeared.

In the scene where Juliet kills herself by stabbing her heart with Romeo’s dagger, animal blood spilled all over the people in the front row. I thought that was very amusing and a very good idea.

When we left the theatre, a riot was forming and we hurried away. This first trip to London, dear parents, has been almost magical. I am thinking of staying a little longer than scheduled, just to enjoy all the delights of this grand city. My brother, however, seems to want to leave on the first ship back to Italy! How different we are…

I hope to hear from you soon and wish that perhaps you would come see me here in London, before my trip home.