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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4180355 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53952 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53952) diff --git a/old/53952-0.txt b/old/53952-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index aec533e..0000000 --- a/old/53952-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13450 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Impressions of England, by A. Cleveland -(Arthur Cleveland) Coxe - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Impressions of England - or Sketches of English Scenery and Society - - -Author: A. Cleveland (Arthur Cleveland) Coxe - - - -Release Date: January 13, 2017 [eBook #53952] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND*** - - -E-text prepared by Mardi Desjardins and the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from page images -digitized by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com) -and generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages, digitzed by Google, - are available through Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/impressionsengl02coxegoog - - - - - -IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND; - -Or, - -Sketches of English Scenery and Society. - -by - -A. CLEVELAND COXE, - -Rector of Grace Church, Baltimore. - - -When I travelled, I saw many things; and I understand more than I can - express. - Ecclus. xxxiv. 11. - - -Second Edition. - - - - - - -New York: -Dana and Company, 381 Broadway. -1856. - -* * * * * - -Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, -By Dana & Company, -In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the -Southern District of New York. - -R. C. Valentine, -Stereotyper and Electrotypist, -17 Dutch-st., cor. Fulton, -New York. - -Geo. Russell & Co., Printers -61 Beekman-street, N. Y. - - - * * * * * - - To - - THE REV. JOSEPH OLDKNOW, M. A., - - OF CHRIST’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, - - PERPETUAL CURATE OF HOLY TRINITY CHAPEL, - - BORDESLEY, BIRMINGHAM, - - IN GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP, - - AND AS A MEMORIAL - - OF HAPPY DAYS AND NIGHTS AT BORDESLEY - - I DEDICATE THESE SKETCHES. - - A. C. C. - _Baltimore_, 1855. - - - - - PREFACE. - - -The following sketches pre-suppose, on the part of the reader, a -familiarity with English subjects, and with the geography, history and -literature of England. The writer has endeavored to avoid the -common-places of travel, and has made no allusion to topics which are -generally understood, such as the petty annoyances one meets at hotels, -and the coldness and phlegm of fellow-travellers. He has also forborne -to dwell on the greater evils of English society, because these have -been thoroughly discussed and exposed, as well by Englishmen as by -foreigners. Besides, our countrymen are kept constantly in view of that -side of the matter, and there would be no relish of novelty to excuse -him for treating them afresh to whole pages made up of the untrustworthy -statistics of Dissenting Almanacs, and the rant of Irish members of -Parliament. Although English travellers have often dealt unfairly with -us, he prefers to show his dislike of such examples, by forbearing to -imitate them. Nor does he regard a different course as due to his love -of country. A clergyman who devotes his life to the holiest interests of -his native land, and who daily thinks, and prays, and toils, and exhorts -others, in behalf of her wants—alike those which are purely religious -and those which pertain to letters, to education and to society in -general—may surely excuse himself from vociferous professions of -patriotism. He freely avows his love of country to be consistent with a -perception of her faults and deficiencies, and mainly to consist in a -high appreciation of her many advantages; in a sense of responsibility -for the blessings of which she has made him partaker; and in a studious -desire always to remember what is due to her reputation, so far as his -humble share in it may be concerned. Whether at home or abroad, he would -endeavour so to act as never to disgrace her; but he cannot sympathize -with the sort of patriotism which rejoices in the faults of other -countries, or which travels mainly to gloat over them. Least of all, can -he share in any petty comparisons of ourselves with our mother country. -If there be Englishmen who take any pleasure in our defects, he is sorry -for their narrowness; if any American finds satisfaction in this or that -blemish of English society, he cannot comprehend it. He considers a -sacred alliance between the two countries eminently important to -mankind; and he who would peril such interests, for the sake of some -trivial matter of personal pride, must be one of the most pitiable -specimens of human nature, be he American or Briton. - -He has aimed, therefore, to present his countrymen with a record of the -pleasures which travel in England may afford to any one pre-disposed to -enjoy himself, and able to appreciate what he sees. He confesses, also, -that he has though rather confined himself to an exhibition of the -bright side of the picture, because he fears that many of his countrymen -are sceptical as to its existence. He suspects that Americans too -commonly go to England prepared to dislike it, and soon cross the -channel determined to be happy in France. - -As a great measure of his own enjoyment depended upon the fact, that he -mingled freely with English society, he thinks it proper to say that he -owed his introductions chiefly to a few English friends with whom he had -corresponded for years beforehand. He supplied himself with very few -introductions from his native land, and even of these he presented only -a part; and in accepting civilities he was careful to become indebted -for them, only when he had a prospect of being able, in some degree, to -return them. As the inter-communion of the Churches tends to make the -interchange of hospitalities more frequent, he was the rather desirous -in nothing to presume on the good-will at present existing; the abuse of -which will certainly defeat the ends for which it has been so generously -promoted. - -Having given years to the study of the British Constitution, and to the -Literature and Religion of England, he has for a long time been -accustomed to watch its politics, and its public men. He has, therefore, -spoken of several public characters, both Whigs and Tories, in a manner -which their respective admirers will hardly approve, but, as he -believes, without prejudice, and as a foreigner may do, with more -freedom than a fellow-subject. In such expressions of personal opinion -he has given an independent judgment, and he is very sure that many of -his English friends will be sorry to see some of his criticisms on their -leading statesmen. It is but just to them to say, that in remarks on the -Sovereign, and her amiable Consort, the writer has spoken entirely for -himself, and with a freedom, in which their loyalty and affection never -allow them to indulge. He believes that an impartial posterity will, -nevertheless, sustain the views with respect to political matters which -he has expressed, and he considers it part of the duty of a traveller, -in detailing his impressions, to be frank on such subjects, in avowing -“how it strikes a stranger.” - -He desires also to confess another purpose, in preparing and publishing -this little work. He has aimed to present, prominently, to his readers, -the distinguishing and characteristic merits of English civilization. -Innumerable causes are now at work to debase the morals of our own -countrymen. With the contemporaries of Washington, that high social -refinement which was kept up amid all the evils of our colonial -position, has well-nigh passed away. The dignity of personal bearing, -the careful civility of intercourse, and the delicate sense of propriety -which characterized the times of our grandfathers, have disappeared. The -vulgarizing influences of a dissocial sectarianism are beginning to be -perceived. The degrading effects of sudden wealth; the corruptions bred -of luxury; the evils of a vast and mongrel immigration; and not least, -the vices communicated to our youth, by contact with the Mexican and -half-Spanish populations contiguous to our southern frontier; all these -corrosive elements are operating among us with a frightful and rapid -result. The contrast with such tendencies, of the sober and -comparatively healthful progress of society in our ancestral land, the -writer supposes, cannot but be acceptable at least to those of his -countrymen who deprecate this deterioration, and who, for themselves and -their families, are anxious to cultivate an acquaintance with those -domestic, educational and religious institutions which have given to -England her moral power and dignity among the nations of the civilized -world. - -These sketches were originally contributed to the New-York _Church -Journal_, but are here given in a revised and complete form. They are a -record of the memorable year 1851—a year to which English history will -look back as the last, and the full-blown flower of a long peace. The -revival of the imperial power in France, at the close of that year, has -opened a new era in Europe, the effects of which upon the British Empire -can hardly be foreseen. - - A. C. C. - _Baltimore_, 1855. - - - - - TABLE OF CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER I. - - Holyhead—Incidents of the Voyage—Oxford stage-coach and - Stratford guide-post—Easter-bells and Easter solemnities—An - Elizabethan Mansion—A Roger-de-Coverley picture in real life—A - Fancy Chapel—An old fashioned Vicarage. - - CHAPTER II. - - Aspect of a Cathedral-town—Lichfield Cathedral, its injuries - and restorations—St. Chad, and Stowe-Church—Lord Brooke, his - sacrilege and retribution—Dr. Johnson and his penance—The - Three-Crowns Inn—Evening Service at the Cathedral—A - Midland-county custom. - - CHAPTER III. - - Brummagem Bishops—American oak in King Edward’s - School—New-England in Deritend—Oscott—Italian - Catholicity—Pugin and the Papists—The Oratory and Mr. - Newman—An Oratorian Sermon—Romish Methodism. - - CHAPTER IV. - - Scene at a London Railway Station—A drive to - Pall-Mall—Whitehall and Hungerford Bridge—The new Bishop of - Lincoln—The S. P. G. House—Nell Gwynne—Westminster Abbey—The - Jerusalem Chamber—Lord John Thynne—The Coronation Vestments. - - CHAPTER V. - - Historic Scenes in Westminster Hall—The Scene it presents in - our days—The New Palace and Victoria Tower—The silent - Highway—Lambeth Palace—Chelsea, and Martin the - painter—Whitehall Palace and Garden—Oratorio at Chelsea—Sara - Coleridge and other members of the poet’s family. - - CHAPTER VI. - - Bury Street, St. James—The Lungs of London—Riding in - Rotten-Row—First view of the Crystal-palace—The venerable S. - P. G.—The Bishop of Oxford—First glimpse of Oxford—Cuddesdon - Palace—A Sermon at St. Ebbe’s—A country Church—Bishop Lowth’s - Epitaph on his daughter. - - CHAPTER VII. - - Forest-hill—A walk in the country—Miltonian scenery—Mary - Powell’s birth-place—A dame’s School—Milton’s Well—A - neat-handed Phillis—Elucidations on the spot—Sir William - Jones. - - CHAPTER VIII. - - Oxford—William of Wykeham—New College and its - Gardens—Magdalen—Addison’s Walk—Scene in the - Convocation-house—May-morning hymn on Magdalen Tower—Scenery - of the surrounding country—Morning-bells and a walk in the - College-grounds. - - CHAPTER IX. - - The Queen’s Progress to the Crystal-palace—The mob in the - Park—The Queen’s return—Her appearance at Buckingham - Palace—Americans at a discount—The interior view of the Great - Exhibition—A high-priced day and a low-priced day—The end of - the bubble—Jack in the Green. - - CHAPTER X. - - The Chapel Royal of St. James—The Duke of Wellington at his - prayers—The Sermon—The Duke at the Holy Communion—St. Paul’s - Cathedral—How it compares with St. Peter’s—Effect of the - Choral Service—Dean Milman—St. Barnabas’, Pimlico, and its - Mediævalisms—Fashion at St. George’s—The Bishop of - Nova-Scotia. - - CHAPTER XI. - - Ramblings in London—All-hallows, Barking—First view of the - Tower—The Sovereigns on horseback—Historical relics—The - Armada and its cargo—The block and the axe—The - jewel-room—Laud and Strafford—Prisoners’ inscriptions—The - graves in the Tower-Chapel—The Traitors’ gate. - - CHAPTER XII. - - House of Commons—Message from the Lords—D’Israeli—Lord - John—The Speaker—The Abbey and Whitehall at dead of night—The - Papal Aggression—The course of the Whigs with the Papists—The - Irish Brigade—Lord John and D’Israeli in a personal - debate—Feebleness of Ministerial measures. - - CHAPTER XIII. - - Decorations of the House of Lords—Their wholesome moral—The - future of the new Chamber—The Aristocracy—Manners in - Parliament—The Lord Chancellor Truro—The London Police—Their - impartiality. - - CHAPTER XIV. - - Exhibitions of Art—Westminster Bridge—Lambeth—A wherry on the - River—Temple Gardens and Church—Twelfth-Night—To the ball on - the dome of St. Paul’s—Descent to the Crypts—Nelson’s - Tomb—The Thames Tunnel—Shipping. - - CHAPTER XV. - - The Cries of London—Covent Garden Market—The Savoy—St. - Clement Danes and Dr. Johnson—Anecdote of Johnson at - Temple-bar—Lincoln’s Inn—Heralds’ College—The Times—The Old - Bailey—A Trial for Murder—A Visit to the Dead—Milton’s - Grave—Grub-street—Chaucer’s Tabard. - - CHAPTER XVI. - - Charms of Society in London—The London - Season—Breakfast-parties—Dining out—Children at the - Dessert—Evening-parties—Historical Costumes—A literary party - at Lady Talfourd’s—Influence of high refinement on individual - character—Pronunciation—A breakfast at Samuel Rogers’. - - CHAPTER XVII. - - Exeter College, Oxford—A Sunday at Oxford—Common-room of - Oriel—Visit to Nuneham Courtenay—Parish-school—Society in - Oxford—Life of an Oxonian Fellow—A visit to Dr. Routh—Relics - of Laud—Oxford Martyrs—Libraries and Museum—Chapel of - Merton—A boat-race. - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - Iffley Church—Radley, and a walk through Bagley Wood—Making a - Doctor of Divinity—A drive through the - country—Parish-stocks—Incidents of the journey—Old - villages—Descent into the Vale of Gloucester—A picture in real - scenery. - - CHAPTER XIX. - - Worcester Cathedral—Coaching to Malvern—Great and Little - Malvern—Tewksbury—Wars of the Roses—Bredon—Sunday at - Kemerton—May’s Hill—The Cuckoo—Gloucester—The Church at - Highnam—Architectural beauty of Gloucester Cathedral—Effect in - twilight. - - CHAPTER XX. - - The Old Palace of St. James—Preparations for going to - Court—The procession of carriages—The Presentation—The Queen - and Prince Albert—A drawing-room—The Ladies—Decorations of - the royal apartments—Portraits in the Corridor—Reflections. - - CHAPTER XXI. - - A visit to Harrow Weald—Ascension Day—Oak-leaves in honor of - the Restoration—Cricket—Evening Service, and a remarkable - Sermon—Coventry—Peeping Tom and Lady Godiva—Kenilworth—The - ruins—Guy’s Cliff—Piers Gaveson—Warwick Castle. - - CHAPTER XXII. - - Stratford-upon-Avon—The Red-Horse Inn—Geoffrey Crayon—The - Birth-place of Shakspeare—New-Place—Walk to Shottery—The - Churchyard—The Church and Tomb—The Epitaph of Shakspeare’s - daughter—Influence of the Church on the mind of Shakspeare. - - CHAPTER XXIII. - - Nottingham—Lord Byron’s reputation—The Castle—Derby—The - Wye—Haddon - Hall—Gallery—Chapel—Chatsworth—Matlock-Bath—Shrewsbury—A - Sedan-chair—Welsh Emigrants—Chester—Eaton-Hall. - - CHAPTER XXIV. - - St. Winifred’s Well—The Vale of Clwyd—Rhuddlan—St. Asaph—A - Welsh Inn—Welsh hospitality—The Welsh service in a rural - Church—The Holy Clerk of Llanerch—Mrs. Hemans—St. Mary’s - Well—Conway Castle. - - CHAPTER XXV. - - Bangor—Menai Straits, and a Trip to Caernarvon—Llanberis and - Dolbardan—Caernarvon Castle—The Eagle tower—Nant - Ffrancon—Capel Curig—Corwen—Valle Crucis—Llangollen—Miss - Ponsonby and Lady Eleanor Butler. - - CHAPTER XXVI. - - Gypsies—The Man of Ross—Market day—Monmouth—Tintern Abbey in - a storm—A Vicar’s children—The Wind-cliff—Tintern in - sunshine—The Severn—Clifton, Bristol and St. Mary - Redcliffe—Chatterton—Bristol Cathedral—Mrs. Mason’s tomb—A - dissenting minister—His charity. - - CHAPTER XXVII. - - Glastonbury—King Arthur’s coffin—Restorations at - Wells—Ordination at Bradfield—Solemnities of the - Jubilee—Willis’s Rooms—A Centenarian—Speeches at St. Martin’s - Hall—The Archbishop in his Study—The Jubilee Sermons—Samuel - Warren. - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - - Jubilee-service at the Cathedral—A Lord Mayor’s Feast—Lord - Glenelg—Eton College—St. George’s Chapel and Windsor Castle—A - Dame’s House—A swim in the Thames—Hampton Court—Pictures and - Cartoons—Hursley Church, and the Poet Keble—Winchester - School—St. Cross Hospital—Relics. - - CHAPTER XXIX. - - Winchester Cathedral—Wykeham and Wayneflete—Cardinal - Beaufort—Bishop Fox—Stephen Gardiner—The Altar—Reliquary - chests—Izaak Walton—An American Vicar—His - ingenuities—Salisbury Plain and Stonehenge—George - Herbert—Netley Abbey—The Isle of - Wight—Portsmouth—Chichester—Brighton. - - CHAPTER XXX. - - St. Augustine’s, Canterbury—Queen Bertha’s Church—The - Patriarchal Cathedral—Becket—The Black Prince—Archbishop - Howley—The Dane John—Drive to Borne—The Judicious Hooker—One - of the Squirearchy—Rochester—Westminster Archives—Chapel of - Henry VII.—Grave of Addison—British Museum—Richmond - Hill—Thomson’s grave—Pope’s skull. - - CHAPTER XXXI. - - The Encænia at Oxford—The uproar—Bedford and John - Bunyan—Fourth of July—The gates of Caius—Comparison of the - two Universities—Chancellor Albert—Old Hobson—The Isthmus of - Sues—Milton’s Mulberry—The small Colleges—The - Fitzwilliam—King’s College—Trinity. - - CHAPTER XXXII. - - Ely Cathedral—Its beautiful restorations—Peterborough—The - graves of two Queens—A King of Spades—Lincoln and Bishop - Grostete—The Cathedral—Jews’ House—The City of - Constantine—York Minster—Ripon—Fountains’ Abbey—Durham—The - Bishop of Exeter—The University—Newcastle—Amen Corner. - - CHAPTER XXXIII. - - Return from Scotland—Gretna Green—Carlisle—The - Lakes—Windermere—Dr. Arnold’s enthusiasm—An American Sunday - and an English one—Grassmere—A Poet’s Widow—A walk to - Keswick—Cockney rhetoric—Derwentwater—A Poet’s - Sepulchre—Penrith—The Countess’ Pillar—Dotheboys - Hall—Rokeby—Kirkstall Abbey. - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - - A pilgrimage to Olney—Cowper’s services to - Literature—Anti-Snobbery—Cowper’s pedigree—A - lace-maker—Olney bridge—The - Summer-house—Weston-Underwood—The Wilderness—Cowper’s - Autograph and Adieu—The Greek Slave—White-bait at - Greenwich—The Prime Meridian—The pensioners—Good-night. - - CHAPTER XXXV. - - Return from the Continent—Despatches—England and Southern - Europe—The Sepulchre of Andrewes—Westminster by - Candlelight—St. Bartholomew’s, Moor-lane—The Anglican - Reformers—Superficial views of travellers—Dissent in - England—Tithes—The late Recusancy—Newman and the Dublin - Review—The English Bible—Conclusion. - - - - - IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - - _First and Second Thoughts—A Warwickshire Welcome._ - - -About noon, one hazy April day, I found myself approaching the British -coast, and was informed by the Captain of our gallant steamer, that in a -few minutes we should gain a glimpse of the mountains of Wales. Instead -of rushing to the upper-deck, I found myself forced by a strange impulse -to retire to my state-room. For nearly thirty years had my imagination -been fed with tales of the noble island over the sea; and for no small -portion of that period, its history and its institutions had been a -favorite subject of study. To exchange, forever, the England of my fancy -for the matter-of-fact England of the nineteenth century, was something -to which I was now almost afraid to consent. For a moment I gave way to -misgivings; collected and reviewed the conceptions of childhood; and -then betook myself, solemnly, to the reality of seeing, with my own -eyes, the land of my ancestors, in a spirit of thankfulness for so great -a privilege. I went on deck. There was a faint outline of Snowdon in the -misty distance; and before long, as the mist dispersed, there, just -before us, was the noble brow of Holyhead. - -It reminded me of the massive promontory opposite Breakneck, as we -descend the Hudson, towards West Point: but the thought that it was -another land, and an old as well as an ancestral one, strangely mingled -with my comparative memories of home. There is something like dying and -waking to life again, in leaving one’s home, and committing one’s self -to such a symbol of Eternity as the Ocean, and then, after long days and -nights, beholding the reality of things unknown before, and entering -upon new scenes, with a sense of immense separation from one’s former -self. Oppressive thoughts of the final emigration from this world, and -descrying, at last, “the land that is very far off,” were forced upon -me. We doubled the dangerous rocks of Skerries, and began to coast along -the northern shore of Anglesea: and then, with my perspective-glass, I -amused myself contentedly, for hours, as I picked out the objects -presenting themselves on the land. Now a windmill, now a village, and -now—delightful sight—a Christian spire! It was night-fall when our -guns saluted the port of Liverpool, and our noble steamer came to anchor -in the Mersey. - -Our voyage had been a very pleasant, and a highly interesting one. -Extraordinary icebergs had been visible for several successive days, and -had given us enough of excitement to relieve the tediousness of the -mid-passage. Our two Sundays had been sanctified by the solemnities of -worship; and the only mishap of our voyage had been such as to draw -forth much good feeling, and to leave a very deep impression. One of the -hands had been killed by accidental contact with the engine, and had -been committed to the deep with the Burial Service of the Church, in the -presence of all on board. A handsome purse was immediately made up for -the surviving mother of the deceased; and the painful event tended -greatly to the diffusion of a fraternal sympathy among the entire -company. We became as one family: and now, before retiring for the -night, I was requested, by those who remained on board, to offer a -solemn thanksgiving to Almighty God, for our safe deliverance from the -perils of the sea. This it gave me pleasure to do; and the words of the -Psalmist rose in our evening devotions, “Then are they glad because they -are at rest; and so he bringeth them unto the haven where they would -be.” The noble vessel in which we had accomplished our voyage now lies -many fathoms deep in the sea. It was the Arctic. - -On landing, in the morning, I inwardly saluted the dear soil, on which I -was permitted at last to place my feet, and on which I could not feel, -altogether, a foreigner. I ran the gauntlet of tide-waiters, and the -like, without anything to complain of, and, after a bath at the Adelphi, -made my way to St. George’s Church. Here, for the first time, I joined -in the worship of our English Mother; though it was difficult to -conceive myself a stranger, until the expression—“Victoria, our Queen -and Governor”—recalled the fact that I was worshipping with the -subjects of an earthly Sovereign, as well as among my brethren of the -glorious City of God. - -A letter awaited me at the Post Office, which invited me to spend my -rest-days with a dear friend. So, after a hasty survey of Liverpool, -which I did not care to inspect minutely, I took an early evening train -for Warwickshire, and was soon speeding athwart highways, and through -hedges, towards my friend’s abode. Even my glimpses of England, from the -flying carriage, were enough to occupy my mind delightfully: and often -did some scene upon the road-side, or in the sprouting fields, recall -incidents of history, or passages of poetic description, which filled me -with emotion, and greatly heightened my preconceptions of the pleasures -before me, in the tour which I thus began. - -So it happened that my first night on shore was passed beneath the roof -of a pleasant English parsonage. My host had been, for years, my -correspondent, and though we had never met before, we counted ourselves -old friends. My bed-room had been prepared for me, and furnished with -such things, in the way of books and the like, as, it was fancied, would -suit my tastes. One window overlooked the Church; and another, over the -churchyard, and its green graves, commanded a pretty view of the fields. -It was the Holy Week. I was waked every morning by the bell for early -prayers. The Bishop of W—— had sent me his permission to officiate, -and when I went to Church, it was always as a priest of the One -Communion. I was at home: as much so as if I had lived, for years, in -the house where I was a guest. We kept the holy time together, and -limited our diversions to pleasant and somewhat professional walks. We -visited, for example, a parochial establishment, in which some twenty -widows were lodged, by the benevolent charity of an individual. Every -widow had her own little cottage, and the entire buildings enclosed a -square, in which was their common garden. There was also a small chapel; -and in each little home there was a text inscribed over the fire-place, -encouraging charity, forbearance, and love to God. Here was a quiet -Beguinage, built many years ago, and never heard of: but there are many -such, in England, dear to God, and the fruits of his Church. I visited -also a school founded by King Edward Sixth; and having, on my first -landing at Liverpool, paid a visit to its Blue Coat Hospital, founded by -a prosperous seaman of the port, and furnishing a noble example to all -sea-port cities, I had seen not a little to charm me with the religion -of England, before I had been a week on her shores. Our quiet walks -through lanes and by-paths, were not less gratifying in their way. The -hedges and the fields, gardens and residences, the farms and the very -highways, were full of attractions to my eye, and the more so, because -my companion seemed to think he could find nothing to show me! He knew -not the heart of an American, fond of his mother country, and for the -first time in his life coming into contact with old-fashioned things. A -heavy wagon, lumbering along the road to market, and inscribed, “John -Trott, Carrier, Ashby-de-la-Zouche”—was enough to set me thinking of -past and present, of the poetry of Ivanhoe, and the prose of a -market-wain; and when I saw a guide-post, which for years had directed -travellers “To Stratford,” only twenty miles off, I could almost have -bowed to it. A stage coach came along, bearing “Oxford” on its panels; -and the thought that it had started that very morning from the seat of -the University, and had raised the dust of Stratford-on-Avon, made its -wheels look dignified. To enjoy England one must be an American, and a -hearty and earnest member of the Anglican Church. Even the cry of “hot -cross buns,” which waked me on Good Friday morning, reviving the song of -the nursery, and many more sacred associations with the day, made me -thankful that I was no alien to the spirit of the solemnities, which -even a traditionary cry in the streets tends to fasten upon the heart -and conscience of a nation. - -Easter morning came at last, and I was up with the sun, and out for a -walk. It came with a bright sunrise, and many cheerful notes from -morning birds. I was confident I heard a lark singing high up in the -air, for though I could not see the little fellow, I could not mistake -the aspiring voice. His Easter Carol was a joyous one, and I set it to -the familiar words— - - Christ, our Lord, is risen to-day, - Sons of men and angels say! - -The hedges were just in leaf: here and there the hawthorn had blossomed, -but the weather was too cold for its silvery beauty; and one almost -pitied the few adventurous flowers, that, like good Churchmen, seemed -only to have come out in conscientious regard to the day. I finished my -morning walk by a turn or two through the church-yard, every grave of -which was sparkling with dews, illuminated by the Easter sun. How -forcibly the scene represented the resurrection: “The dew of thy birth -is of the womb of the morning.” - -As I entered the parsonage, I heard the bells chiming from a distant -parish church. My reverend friend met me with the salutation—“the Lord -is risen;” to which I could not but fervently respond in the same -primitive spirit. We had a festal breakfast, after family prayers, and -soon it was time for service. I could willingly have been a worshipper -in private, but submitted to the authority of the parson, and became one -of his curates for the day. We emerged from the Vestry in due order of -the Psalmist—“the singers going before,” men and boys alike in -surplices; the latter with red cheeks, and white ribbons to tie their -collars, looking like little chubby cherubs, and when they lifted their -voices, sounding still more like them. The chancel was neatly decorated; -a few flowers placed over the altar, and an inscription on its cloth, “I -am the Bread of Life.” With the choral parts of the service I was -surprised, as well as delighted. Boys and men all did their parts, in a -manner which would have done honor to the authorities of a Cathedral, -and I observed that the congregation generally accompanied the choir, -especially the children in the galleries. I had never before heard the -Athanasian Hymn as part of the regular Service, and I was greatly -impressed by its majestic effect. After the Nicene Creed, I ascended the -pulpit, and preached “Jesus and the Resurrection,” and then, returning -to the Altar, celebrated the Holy Eucharist, according to the English -rite, administering to my reverend brethren and the lay-communicants. To -this high privilege I was pressingly invited by the pastor himself, in -token of entire communion with the Church in America; and thus I was -able to join my personal thanksgivings for the mercies of a voyage, and -my prayers for my absent flock and family, to a public exercise of the -highest functions of my priesthood, at the altar of an English Church. - -The many incidents of the day, which afforded me ever fresh delight, -might lose their charm, if reduced to narration, or might strike the -reader as proofs of my facility to be gratified. But I cannot but -mention that, strolling away, in the afternoon, to see how service was -performed at another Church, I was gratified to find it filled with -devout worshippers of the plainer sort, attentively listening to a very -excellent sermon, appropriate to the day. While the preacher was warmly -enlarging upon the promise of a glorious resurrection, and I was quite -absorbed in his suggestions, I suddenly caught a glimpse, among the -crowd of worshippers, of a figure which startled me, as forcibly -illustrative of the words of the preacher, “thy dead men shall live.” It -was the recumbent effigy of an old ecclesiastic of the fifteenth -century, which I had not observed before. As if listening to the -preacher, in joyful hope, there it lay upon the tomb, hands clasped -placidly together, and looking steadfastly towards heaven! How it seemed -to join the hopes of the dead with those of the living, and to give -force to every word which fell from the pulpit concerning the glory -which shall be revealed in all those who sleep in Jesus! - -With Easter-Monday our holidays, in the school-boy sense, began. My -reverend friend proposed a visit to the Vicar, to whose patronage he -owed his own incumbency of the Chapel of the Holy Trinity, in B——. Off -we started on foot, passing through the suburbs of a populous town, and -finally emerging into the open country. We came suddenly in sight of the -old Church of A——; its beautiful spire and gables admirably -harmonizing with the surrounding view, and telling a silent story of -long past years. Beyond it, a majestic avenue of elms disclosed at its -extremity a mansion of Elizabethan architecture and date; not the less -reverend in my associations for the fact that Charles the First slept in -it just before Edgehill fight, and that a cannon-ball, still lodged in -the stair-case, attests the perilous honor which his Sacred Majesty was -thus pleased to bestow on its occupant. The solemn dignity of an old -English residence of this kind, had heretofore been to me a thing of -imagination; now it was before my eye, not a whit less pleasing in its -reality. The rooks were chattering in its venerable trees, which seemed -to divide their predilections about equally with the steeple; and I am -told that they are such knowing birds, that whenever you see a rookery, -you may be sure that there is both orthodox faith, and at least one sort -of good-living in the neighborhood. - -Had I challenged my friend to show me a genuine Roger-de-Coverley -picture in real life, as the entertainment of my holiday, I must have -admitted myself satisfied with this scene at A——. Not only did the old -hall, and the church, in all particulars, answer to such a demand; not -only did a river run by the church-yard; not only were fields beyond, -with cattle grazing, corn sprouting, and hedges looking freshly green; -but when I entered the church-yard gate, lo! a rustic party, in holiday -trim, were hanging about the old porch, awaiting the re-appearance of a -bridal train, which had just gone in. It wanted but the old Knight -himself and his friend the Spectator, to make the whole scene worthy of -the seventeenth century. - -I entered the church, and found it in all respects just such an interior -as I had longed to see; apparently the original of many a pleasing -print, illustrating Irving’s “Sketch-Book” and similar works, the -delight of my childhood, and still affording pleasure in recollection. -Its ample nave, widened by rows of aisles, terminated in the arch of a -long chancel, at the altar of which stood not only one matrimonial -couple, but actually five or six, whom two curates were busily uniting -in the holy bonds of wedlock. When the procession returned from the -altar, they passed into the vestry to register their names, and one of -the curates coming to the door of the church, found another group of -villagers, at the font, presenting a child for baptism. Following my -friend into the vestry, I was presented to the Vicar himself, who seemed -the _genius loci_ in all respects; a venerable gray-haired old -gentleman, in his surplice, full six feet in stature, and worthy to sit -for a portrait of Dr. Rochecliffe, in Woodstock. It was now time for -service, and I was desired to robe myself, and accompany him into the -chancel, two curates, the clerk, and some singers leading the way. I was -put into a stall, marked with the name of some outlying chapelry of the -parish, and appropriate to its incumbent when present. The chancel was -filled with monuments, of divers ages and styles. At my left hand lay -the effigies of a knight and his good dame, in Elizabethan costume; -beyond were a pair of Edward III.’s time; opposite were figures of the -period of Henry VI. and much earlier; the knights all in armor, and some -with crossed legs, as a token that they had fought in Palestine. The -service was intoned by one of the curates, in a severe old tone, -authorized in Archbishop Cranmer’s time, which the Vicar afterwards -assured me was very ancient, and the only genuine music of the Church of -England. When the service was concluded, there was a churching to be -attended to, at the south porch of the church, and to this duty one of -the curates was deputed, while the Vicar himself detained us in the -chancel with an enthusiastic antiquarian illustration of the monuments, -to which I was a most willing listener. Here slept the _de Erdingtons_, -and there the _Ardens_: such and such was their story; and such and such -were the merits of the sculpture. Chantrey had visited these figures, -and assured him that they were the finest in the kingdom; and if I -imagined, at the time, that such was merely Sir Francis’ courtesy to the -worthy Vicar, I hope I may be forgiven, for some subsequent acquaintance -with such things inclines me to believe the sculptor was sincere. On the -walls were the heavy tablets of the Hanoverian period, and our attention -was directed to the marked decline of art, from the period of the -Crusades down to the Georges, growing worse and worse till George -Fourth’s time, which improved the existing style, and was succeeded by a -period of rapid return to correct taste and principle. Of all this the -Church itself bore witness. Here the worthy man pointed out marks of its -various stages of decline: here were barbarous repairs; there a sad -blunder of old Church-wardens; here a wanton mutilation of Hanoverianism -in 1790, when the very worst things happened to the holy and beautiful -house; and there, at last, was a fine restoration of our own times. - -We were next conducted to the church-yard, the Vicar having doffed his -surplice, and assumed his usual habit, which partook of the dignity and -taste of its wearer in a pleasing degree. His hat was specially -ecclesiastical, and turned up at the sides, and over his cassock and -bands he wore a clerical surtout, so that as he strode over the graves, -in his small-clothes, displaying a finely proportioned leg, his entire -figure might have been thought contemporary with that of his brother of -Wakefield. We now learned the history of the Church, its great tithe, -and its various plunderings under successive bad kings. We viewed the -tower and spire from every possible point of vantage, and then went -round the walls to see where a window had been blocked up, or a doorway -broken through, or a pointed arch displaced for a square-headed -debasement of the Tudor period. I never found before so good a “sermon -in stones.” An ancient yew-tree was pointed out as having afforded -boughs, before the reformation, for the celebration of Palm-Sunday. We -adjourned to the Vicarage, where luncheon was served in the Library, a -room filled with the choicest volumes; and then we were dismissed for a -walk, promising to return, for our dinner, at five o’clock. - -Our road soon brought us to E ——, where a Romish Chapel had been -lately erected, by a man of fortune, in minute and extravagant -reproduction of Mediævalism. It was a thing for a glass case; a piece of -admirable art; a complete Pugin; and no doubt in the middle ages would -have been a very suitable thing for its purposes; but, in our day, it -seemed as little suited to Rome as to Canterbury. The Pope himself never -saw such a place of worship, and would scarcely know how to use it; and -it was chiefly interesting to me as enabling me to see, at a glance, -what the finest old Parish Churches of England had been in the days of -the Plantagenets. At any rate, they were never Tridentine, and they were -always Anglican. This beautiful toy had a frightful Calvary in the -church-yard; but the interior was adorned with the finest carvings in -Caen stone, and brilliant colorings and gildings _à la Froissart_. The -pulpit was adorned with the story of Becket, in very delicate sculpture, -and around the Church were stations, or representations of the different -stages of the Passion, carved elaborately in wood, and beautifully -colored. The Virgin’s Altar and Chapel were gems of art; and, of course, -replenished with striking proofs that they “worship and serve the -creature more than the Creator.” I turned away heart-sick, that such -unrealities of a dead antiquity could be employing the whole soul of any -Englishman, and even tempting some into apostacy from the simple but -always dignified Church of their ancestors. Let taste be the handmaid of -religion, and all is well: but here was religion led captive by -antiquarian fancy. - -Many other objects of interest filled up our day. We made a complete -circuit, crossing green fields, leaping ditches, and breaking through -hedges. Up hill and down dell, and through fragrant country lanes; here -a river, and there a pool; now a farm, and then a mill. Yellow gorse was -in flower by the road-sides. We met many parties of village people -enjoying their Easter sports, and dressed in holiday attire. This day, -at least, it seemed merry England still. We came to Witton Manor-house, -and thence caught a distant view of the spire, towards which it grew -time to return. Immense elms, of darker look than those of New-England, -beautified the view in every direction; and the landscape was -diversified by many smaller trees, marking the water-courses. We came -out, at last, by the old Hall, the exterior of which we closely -examined, imagining the scene around its gates when the royal Stuart -came to be its guest. Like many other mansions of the olden time, it is -deserted now; and the deepening twilight in which we viewed it, -harmonized entirely with the thoughts which it inspired. So we returned -to the Vicarage, and again were warmly welcomed. At dinner we were -presented to Mrs. ——, the Vicar’s wife, who seemed to take the -liveliest interest in my country and its Church, and kindly to -appreciate my own enjoyment of the events of the day. After dinner the -Vicar lighted his long pipe, and continued his exceedingly interesting -discourse about the olden time. I could see that he was no admirer of -the Crystal Palace, and all that sort of thing. I had met a _laudator -temporis acti_, whose character and venerable appearance gave him a -right to lament the follies of our own age; and seldom have I enjoyed -more keenly any intellectual treat than I did his arm-chair -illustrations of past and present, as compared together. On his favorite -topics of Church-music and Architecture he was very earnest and -intelligent. The Northamptonshire Churches, he assured me, were the -finest in England; and kindly introducing me to the _summa fastigia -rerum_, he took me to the very garret, to hunt up some superb plates of -his favorite localities. When I bade adieu to this Vicarage, it was as -one leaves an old friend. Such hospitality, and such heart afforded to a -stranger! Thus early had I found that old English manners are not yet -extinct, and that the fellowship of the Church admits even a foreigner -to their fullest enjoyment. It was eleven o’clock when we reached the no -less hospitable home from which I started in the morning. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - - _Easter Holidays—Lichfield and Dr. Johnson._ - - -My reverend friend accompanied me to Lichfield, as our occupation for -Easter-Tuesday; kindly expressing his desire to have a share in the -enthusiasm, with which he justly imagined the first sight of an ancient -cathedral would inspire a visiter from America. And although Lichfield -is by no means one of the most impressive specimens of English cathedral -architecture, as it is small, and not very well kept, I was very glad to -begin my pilgrimage to the cathedrals with this venerable Church, the -see of the primitive and apostolic St. Chad; the scene of some of the -most severe and melancholy outrages of the Great Rebellion; and the -sacred spot, in which some of the earliest and most durable impressions -were made upon the character of the truly great Dr. Johnson. Familiar -with all I expected to see, so far as books and engravings could make me -so, it was thrilling to set out for my first visit to such a place, and -I was obliged to smother something like anxiety lest the reality should -fall far below anticipation. How would it strike me, after all? I was to -tread, at last, the hallowed pavement of an ancient minster, in which -the sacrifices of religion had been offered for centuries, and occupying -a spot which had been drenched with the blood of primitive martyrs; I -was to join in the solemn chant of its perpetual services; I was to go -round about its walls, and mark well its bulwarks, and survey its -towers, and to trace the tokens of those who had once set up their -banners there, and broken down its carved work with axes and hammers, -and defiled the place of its sanctuary. No English mind, to which -ancient things have been familiar from birth, could possibly have -appreciated my inward agitation at the prospect of such a day; and, as I -took my seat in the train, I could not but wonder at the indifference of -my fellow-passengers, to whom _booking_ for Lichfield was an every-day -affair, and whose associations with that city were evidently those of -mere business, and downright matter-of-fact. - -The three spires, crowning the principal towers of the Church, soon came -in sight, and beneath its paternal shadow were clustered the humbler -roofs of the town. How like a hen gathering her chickens under her -wings, is a true cathedral amid the dwellings which it overshadows, and -how completely is its true intent set forth by this natural suggestion -of its architecture! I had never, before, seen a city purely religious -in its _prestige_, and I felt, as soon as my eyes saw it, the moral -worth to a nation of many such cities scattered amid the more busy hives -of its industry. On alighting, I could not but remark to my companion, -the still and Sabbath-like aspect of the city. “It is generally so,” he -answered, “with our cathedral towns; they are unlike all other places.” -This is their reproach in the eyes of the economist; but such men never -seem to reflect that the cathedral towns owe their existence to the fact -they are such, and would, generally, have no population at all, but for -their ecclesiastical character. Why can they not see, besides, that such -a place as Lichfield is as necessary to a great empire, as a Sheffield? -It bred a Johnson—and that was a better product for England than ever -came out of a manufactory of cotton or hardware. Probably, just such a -mind could have been reared only in just such a place. “You are an idle -set of people,” said Boswell to his master, as they entered Lichfield -together. “Sir,” replied the despot, “we are a city of philosophers: we -work with our _heads_, and make the boobies of Birmingham work for us -with their _hands_.” - -But here at length is the cathedral, and service is going on! A moment’s -survey of its western front, so old, so enriched with carvings and -figures, so defiant of casual observation, and so worthy of careful -study—and we pass inside—and here is the nave, and the massive and dim -effect of the interior—somehow not all realized at once, and yet -overpowering. We reach the choir, and a verger quietly smuggles us -within. After a moment’s kneeling, we observe that the Epistle is -reading, and the service about to close. In a few minutes my first -impressions of worship in a cathedral are complete, and they are very -unsatisfactory. I had reached the sanctuary too late for the musical -parts of the solemnity, and there was rather a deficiency than an excess -of ceremonial, in the parts I saw. A moment’s inspection convinced me -that Lichfield Cathedral is, by no means, over-worked by its Dean and -Chapter. Alas! I said to myself, what we could do with such a foundation -in my own city, in America! We might have such a school of the prophets -as should be felt in all the land: we would make it the life of the -place; the seat of perpetual preachings, and prayers, and catechizings, -and councils; a citadel of power to the faith, and a magazine of holy -armor and defences for the Church. Why do not these worthy Canons wake -up, and go to work, like genuine sons and successors of St. Chad? - -We now went the rounds of the Church, with the stupid verger for our -orator, and I began to experience the intolerable annoyance complained -of by all travellers. “Oh, that he might hold his tongue! We know it—we -know it—only let us alone, and here’s your shilling”—said my inmost -heart, a score of times, but still he mumbled on. He was most impressive -in detailing the exploits of the Puritans: here they hacked, and there -they hewed; this was done by Cromwell’s men—when they broke into the -old Bishops’ sepulchres; and that, when they hunted a cat, with the -hounds, through the nave and aisles. Here they _tooted_ with the broken -organ pipes, and there the soldiers mounted the pulpit, and preached _à -la Woodstock_. They went so far as to cut up their rations of flesh meat -on the altar, and they baptised a calf at the font; but, enough; mine -eyes have seen that there were such men in England two hundred years -ago, and oh, let us pray that we may not deserve such judgments again. -It was refreshing to stop before the tomb of Bishop Hacket, and to thank -God, who put it into his heart to be a repairer of the breach. The -Bishop had his failings, but what he did for his cathedral should cover -a multitude of sins, if he had so many. He was the man who, during the -worst scenes of the rebellion, was threatened by a soldier with instant -death, unless he desisted from the prayers which he was then offering, -in the Church of St. Giles, Holborn, and who answered, calmly, “you do -what becomes a soldier, but I shall do as becomes a priest,” and so went -on with the service. At the Restoration, being already three-score and -ten, he was appointed to this See. He found the cathedral almost a ruin; -thousands of round shot, and hand-grenades had been fired upon it; the -pinnacles were battered to pieces, and the walls and spires seemed ready -to fall, while the interior was a mass of filth and desolation. The very -next day after his arrival, he set his own horses to work in clearing -away the rubbish, and for eight years he devoted his wealth and labor, -and made perpetual efforts among the zealous laity of the kingdom, to -achieve and pay for the restoration of the Church, which he thus -accomplished. Finally he reconciled the holy place by a solemn -ceremonial, and re-instituted the services. When he heard the bells -ring, for the first time, being then confined to his bed-chamber, he -went into another room to hear the sound; but, while he blessed God that -he had lived to enjoy it, said it was his knell, and so, soon after, -died like old Simeon. - -We paused before the busts of Johnson and Garrick, and the monuments of -Miss Seward and Lady M. W. Montague, and also before a monument lately -erected to some soldiers who perished in India, over which the flags of -their victories were displayed. The kneeling figure of the late Bishop -Ryder is pleasing and appropriate; but the object of universal -attraction is the monument of two children, by Chantrey, so generally -known and admired in prints and engravings. I cannot say that the style -of this monument comports well with the surrounding architecture, but in -itself it is beautiful, and bespeaks that sentimental love of children -for which the Church of England has made the English people remarkable, -beyond other Christian nations. The epitaph is a sad blemish, but the -reposing Innocents make you forget it. So simple and sweet is their -marble slumber, which, of itself, speaks “the Resurrection and the -Life.” - -The cathedral-close is open and spacious, and one gains a very good view -of the architecture, on all sides of the exterior. I sat down beneath -some trees, at the eastern extremity of the Church, and for a long while -gazed at the old stones, from the foundation to the topmost spire. They -told of centuries—how mutely eloquent! All was so still that the rooks -and jackdaws, chattering in the belfries, supplied the only sounds. -There was the bishop’s palace at my right, the scene of Anna Seward’s -bright days, and of some of Dr. Johnson’s happiest hours. The ivy almost -covers its modest but ample front. The close is a little picture of -itself; too much, perhaps, like the swallows’ nests, around the altar, -in the warm and inactive contentment with which it must tend to surfeit -any but the most conscientious of God’s ministers. - -On one side of the cathedral is a pretty pool, and altogether, in this -point of observation, it presents a beautiful view. Swans are kept in -this water, and go oaring themselves about, without that annoyance from -boys and vagabonds, which prevents their being kept in public places, in -our country. They came familiarly to us, and even followed us a long -distance, as we walked on the margin of the pool, as if doing the honors -of the place to ecclesiastical visitors. We now took a walk through the -meadows, to Stowe, distant about half-a-mile, and presenting another -pleasant picture, with its old, but beautiful parish-church. Here we -found tokens of that work of Church restoration which is going on -throughout all England, and which will make the age of Victoria enviably -famous with future generations. The little Church was in perfect -keeping, throughout; severely plain, but strictly Anglican, and full of -reverend simplicity. There were some pews in the Church, but the new -sittings were all open, and apparently free. We looked with some -interest at the monument of Lucy Porter, daughter of the lady who -afterwards became the wife of Dr. Johnson. Hard by the Church is the -well of St. Chad, to which I next paid a visit, and from which I was -glad to drink. It is twined with roses, and neatly arched over with -masonry, on which is chiselled CE. EP.—that is, _Ceadda Episcopus_, and -here, in the seventh century, the holy man lived and baptized. St. Chad, -though a Saxon by birth, was in British orders, of the primitive -ante-Gregorian succession, and held the See of York, until his own -humility, and the Roman scruples of the Archbishop of Canterbury, -transferred him to Lichfield, where he lived the life of an apostle, and -from which he itinerated through the midland counties, very often, on -foot, in the spirit of a truly primitive missionary. It was with -exceeding veneration for the memory of his worth and piety, that I -visited this scene of his holy life, and blessed God for the mercies -which have issued thence, even to my own remote country. Such are the -world’s true benefactors: the world forgets them, but their record is -with God; and He will make up His jewels yet, in the sight of the -assembled universe. - -Returning, we had the cathedral before us, all the way, in truly -delightful prospect. I observed the birds that darted across our path -with peculiar pleasure, and could not but remark that the sparrows were -John Bull’s own sparrows, having, in comparison with ours, a truly -English rotundity and plumpness, which should no doubt be credited to -the roast-beef of Old England, and to good ale, withal, or to something -equivalent in the diet of birds. We now took a turn into the city, and -first, went to see the house, in a window of which Lord Brooke was -seated when he received the fatal bullet from the cathedral. It seems a -great distance for such a shot; and this fact heightens the peculiarity -of the occurrence. There is a little tablet, fixed in the wall, -recording the event. As it took place on St. Chad’s day, and as the shot -was fired by a deaf and dumb man in the tower, putting out the eye with -which the Puritan besieger had prayed he might behold the ruins of the -cathedral, and killing him on the spot, it is not wonderful that the -providence was regarded as special and significant. Sacrilege has been -dangerous sport ever since the days of Belshazzar. It was a more -gratifying occupation to seek next the birth-place of Dr. Johnson, with -which pictures had made me so familiar, that when I came suddenly into -the market-place, I recognized the house and St. Mary’s Church, and even -the statue, all as old acquaintances. The pillars at the corners of the -house give it a very marked effect, and one would say, at the outset, -that it must have a history. It is not unworthy of such a man’s -nativity. The Church in which the future sage was christened is almost -directly opposite; and as I came in view of it, I looked for its -projecting clock, and found it, just as I had seen it in engravings. The -statue of Dr. Johnson is placed in the market square, just before the -house in which he first saw the light. It was the gift of one of the -dignitaries of the cathedral to the city. Did poor Michael Johnson, the -bookseller, ever console his poverty and sorrows, as he looked from -those windows on a stormy day, with visions of this tribute to the -Christian genius of his son? Perhaps, just where it stands, he often saw -his boy borne to school on the backs of his playmates, in triumphal -procession; and this incident of his childhood is now wrought into the -monumental stone. In another bas-relief, he is seen as a child of three -years old, perched on his father’s shoulder, listening to Dr. -Sacheverel, as he preaches in the cathedral. In a third is illustrated -that touching act of filial piety, the penance of the sage in Uttoxeter -market. For an act of disobedience to his poor hard-faring father, done -when he was a boy, but haunting him through life with remorse, the great -man went to the site of his father’s humble book-stall in the -market-place, and there stood bare-headed in the storm, one rainy day, -bewailing his sin, and honoring the lowliness of the parental industry -which provided for the wants of his dependent years. What moral -sublimity! worthy indeed of a memorial, and doubtless recorded in the -book of the Lamb that was slain to take away his sin! - -Opposite St. Mary’s, and next door to the birth-place, we found the -“Three Crowns Inn,” where Johnson chose to stay, with sturdy -independence, when he visited Lichfield, refusing even the hospitalities -of Peter Garrick. I suppose the room in which we lunched was the scene -of another instance of true greatness in Dr. Johnson, who, with the -dignity of a gentleman, entertained here a friend of his humbler days, -“whose talk was of bullocks,” and whose personal appearance was by no -means agreeable, but to whose tiresome volubility, in things of his own -profession, the sage extended the most patient and condescending -attention. We could not but drink our mug of ale to the memory of the -immortal old man of ten thousand honest prejudices, and as many virtues; -in whom “has been found no lie,” and who has made his own massive -character, in some respects, the ideal of a genuine Englishman. - -We visited the hospital and Church of St. John Baptist, a charitable -foundation of an old Bishop of Lichfield, who was also a munificent -benefactor of Brazen-nose College, at Oxford. It is a queer, -out-of-the-way, little blessing, of the sort which attracts no -attention, but which bespeaks a Church at work among the people, of the -like of which England is full. I was much pleased with this fragrant -little flower of charity, for such it seemed, hiding, like the violet, -out of sight, but heavenly when discovered. The Church of St. Michael, -Green-hill, next attracted me, standing on an eminence, and crowning it -with a conspicuous tower and spire. An avenue of venerable elms leads to -its portal, and I found it open. The font, which is a relic of very high -antiquity, has lately been restored to its place; and nearly the whole -of the nave is a late restoration. Here, then, is another proof of the -revival of primitive life and zeal in the Church of England! And all so -truly national; Anglican and yet Catholic; consistent with self, and -with antiquity, and attesting a continuous ecclesiastical life, from the -days of Ceadda, and his predecessors, until now. - -The Evening Service at the cathedral was far more gratifying than the -morning’s experience had led me to anticipate. The evening sun streamed -through the windows of the clere-story with inspiring effect, and the -_Magnificat_ quite lifted me up to the devotional heights I had desired -to attain, in such a place. Then came the anthem, suitable to -Easter-week—“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.” How amiable the -beautiful and holy place in which such strains have been heard for ages! -In passing through the streets, on my way home, I saw one of the popular -sports of the Easter-holidays, peculiar to the midland counties, and a -relic of the many frolics in use before the Reformation. Some buxom -lasses were endeavoring to _lift_, or _heave_, a strapping youth, who, -in no very gallant style, repelled the embraces and salutations of his -female aggressors. I take it for granted, however, that he was not -released until he had been handsomely lifted into the air, and made to -purchase his freedom by a substantial fine. This is a custom confined, -of course, to the vulgar—but even among them, according to my judgment, -“more honored in the breach than in the observance.” - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - - _Birmingham—The Oratory—Newman._ - - -Going up to London, I tarried for a few days at Birmingham, a town not -pleasing to my fancy, and yet one which no tourist in England would -choose to omit. I found it, indeed, as Leland described it three hundred -years ago, “to be inhabited of many smithes, that use to make knives, -and all manner of cutting tooles: and many lorimers, that make bittes, -and a great many naylors; so that a great part of the town is maintayned -by smithes who have their sea-coal out of Staffordshire.” To this, I -cannot help adding, in the style of old Fuller, that “there be divers -many also who do make buttons; and a great store of all things gilt, and -showy, and not costlie nor precious withal, do come out of Brummagem; -for which also the new bishoppes which Cardinal Wiseman did lately make -therein, be commonly called the Brummagem hierarchie, that is to say, -not so much Latin bishoppes as _Latten_ bishops; latten being much used -in Brummagem, and is made of stone of calamine and copper, or chiefly of -_brass_.” I confess that good part of my interest in Birmingham proper -was to see what this new hierarchy were about. - -The Town-Hall has been often enough described and praised, and is, no -doubt, very fine; but I did not go to England to see Grecian temples, -and I took much more satisfaction in any old frame house of three -centuries ago, than in the frigid and formal show of all its columns. - -On the whole, I think King Edward’s Grammar School the most interesting -object in the town. Though the buildings were erected very lately, they -are in the true academic style of Cambridge and Oxford. The pile is -massive and imposing, and I was pleased to find that the solid oak of -its noble rooms is the production of American forests. Here I first saw -how English boys are made scholars; the drill being obvious to even a -moment’s glance; every motion and look of the masters, who walk up and -down among the boys in their college gowns, implying a discipline and -method, of which our schools are too commonly destitute. Queen’s College -is also worthy of a visit, and I was much pleased with some of the -pictures which I saw in its hall, among which was an old one of Mary -Queen of Scots, representing her with her child, James Stuart. Who ever -conceived of Mary as a motherly creature, or of the old pedant king as -an unbreeched boy? Yet such were they in this painting, which was no -doubt true, as well as beautiful, in its time. With the churches of -Birmingham I was not particularly impressed. St. Martin’s, the “old -paroch-church” of Leland’s day, scarcely retains any remnant of its -ancient self, except the spire, which leans, and seems likely to fall. -The sovereign hill of the town is surmounted by St. Philip’s, which -ought to be a cathedral, and the seat of a school of the prophets, but -which looks like nothing more than a plethoric Hanoverian temple, in -which indolent and drowsy worldliness would be content to say its -prayers not more than once a week. I was better pleased with a church in -the suburbs, built in George Fourth’s day, and partaking both of the -merits and defects of that period of transition, when the church was in -palmy prosperity as “the venerable establishment.” Here first I saw an -English funeral, evidently of one of the humbler class, all parties -walking on foot, and the coffin carried on a bier. The curate met the -procession at the gate, in his surplice and cap, and then reverently -uncovering his head, led the way into the house of God, the consoling -words of the service gradually dying on my ear, as the rear of the -funeral train disappeared within. The parsonage is close at hand, an -ecclesiastical looking house of most appropriate and pleasing aspect; -and the abode, as I can testify from personal knowledge, of the true -spirit of an English parish priest—such an one as Hooker and Herbert -would have rejoiced to foreknow. In his Church the prayers are -perpetual; the fire never going out on the altar, and its gates standing -open, as it were, night and day. The vicinity is known as “Camp Hill,” -for here was the furious Rupert once in garrison; but a queer old house, -all gables and chimneys, is pointed out, upon the hill, as the former -lodging of his redoubtable adversary, old Noll himself. Hence we stretch -into the country, and gain those pleasant extremes of Warwickshire, -which Leland noteth, not forgetting the return by Sandy Lane, through -“Dirty End,” which, since the days of his chronicle, is euphuized into -Deritend. This place is full of what the Brummagem Cardinal would call -_slums_, and one of them, as if on purpose to affront a portion of my -countrymen, displayed to my astonishment, on a street sign, the name of -“New-England.” Did any returned pilgrim settle down here, and give the -last retreat of his poverty this name? - - “Born in New-England, did in London die,” - -is a well-known epitaph, which may possibly explain this circumstance; -for, said Dr. Johnson, “who that was born in New-England, would care to -die there,” or words to that effect. Yet I confess, for life or death, I -have scarcely seen any place in our own New-England which would not be -preferable to this, although Leland calls Dirty End “a pretty street -with a mansion of tymber hard on the bank of a brook, with a proper -chapel close by.” Here I stopped before the aged front of the “Old Crown -Inn,” which I take to be the same “tymber” mansion, having all the odd -corners, and juttings-forth, and quaint appurtenances of centuries long -gone by. These out-of-the-way ramblings and searches were far more to my -taste than the gaudy sights of the shops and manufactories. - -I went out to Oscott, and took a survey of the enemy’s headquarters, to -begin with. Here Tridentinism shows her best front, and yet it falls far -below what I had been led to expect. The college is built of brick, but -is prettily situated, and commands a fine view from the leads, to which -I ascended, for a prospect of the surrounding country. There is little -architectural merit in any part of the structure, and the general -appearance of things, throughout, is below that of collegiate -institutions in England, or on the Continent. I was pleased, however, -with the rooms set apart for ecclesiastical visitors, so far as their -furniture was suitable to offices of private devotion, and not merely to -those of rest and recreation; and I was not sorry to see in the Library -a pretty large selection of standard English divines, though I am -painfully suspicious that they are not there to be freely used by all -who would read and study them. The chapel is gaudy, yet in true Mediæval -character, and somewhat impressive. The other rooms are -labelled—_pransorium_, _deversorium_, and the like, or surmounted with -the names of the divers arts, as _Rhetorica_, _Dialectica_, and so on. -In the common-room are showy portraits of the chiefs of the Romish -recusancy in England, some of whom look like saints, and some like -Satan. There was a portrait of Pugin, to which I directed the attention -of the official who served as guide. He sneered significantly, and said -Pugin was a queer fellow, which meant that they had found him not so -blind as they wished him to be, to his fatal mistake in joining them. He -studied Mediæval Anglicanism, with the illusion that it was all one with -modern Tridentinism, and had left his mother Church in the vain hope -that he should find a more congenial sphere for his antiquarian tastes, -among the English Papists. But he found the past even more absolutely -ignored at Oscott than at Oxford. Anglicans are glad to retain all that -may be safely retained of their own antiquity: but Romanists are Italian -throughout, and any thing that is national, is schismatical. They know -nothing of Augustine and little of Anselm; they date from Trent, and to -that all must conform. Old liturgies, old customs, old principles, as he -in vain tried to recommend them, they laughed at as utterly obsolete: -and he in turn scoffed at their Romanesque, and their Oratorianism, as -infinitely less Catholic than the Anglican Gothic, and the Anglican -Prayer-Book. Poor fellow! he has since died in a mad-house—a noble -genius, but the victim of theory, and of unreal conceptions as to the -diseases and the cure of the times. - -If I was disappointed at Oscott, much more at St. Chad’s, their new -cathedral in Birmingham. So much was said about this attempt, that I had -supposed it a _chef d’œuvre_ of the architect, and a complete trap for -_dilettanti_ Anglicans. It is the reverse of all this, being so poor, -and even niggard in its entire conception and execution, that I am sure -it must be a spoiled Pugin, if his at all. It is of brick, and of small -dimensions, and not cleanly. Its crypts are instructive as to the way in -which the crypts of the old cathedrals were formerly used, being fitted -up for masses for the dead, but not much adorned. They are damp, dark, -and somewhat offensive, as they are used for burial. - -Strolling out to Edgbaston, I saw the rising walls of Newman’s Oratory. -This, too, is strictly conformed to his new Italian idea of religion, -which scrupulously eschews the old English architecture, associated as -that is with Magna Charta and the Constitutions of Clarendon, and with -three hundred years of absolute independence. This is in strict -agreement with his _development_ theory. The Romanism of the _present_ -is the rule, and that is Italian: the past was immature and undigested, -and hence savored, more or less, of nationality. How vastly more -severed, then, from the historical antecedents of his country is the -British papist, than the genuine Anglican! - -While I was in Birmingham, Mr. Newman yet occupied his temporary -Oratory, in the neighborhood of Camp-Hill. It was an old distillery, -and, of course, was but an ill-looking place for worship. Wishing to see -him and his sect, I went one day to the spot, and pushing aside a heavy -veil at the door, such as is common in Italian churches, found myself in -a low and dirty-looking place of worship, in which the first object that -met my eye was an immense doll of almost ludicrous aspect, near the -door, representing the Virgin, with the crescent beneath her feet. -Bishop Ullathorne proves Mohammed to have been the first believer in the -Immaculate Conception, so that we cannot but admit the propriety of the -symbol. Before this image several youth, with broad tonsures, and in -long cassocks, were kneeling, in a manner truly histrionic. One of them -rose and asked if I would like to be shown the library, and so conducted -me up a dark and narrow stair-case into a large apartment, in which were -no books, but which appeared to be hung with baize, like the rooms of an -artist. He informed me that the books were _in petto_, and would, by and -by, be manifested; apologizing for the present deficiency. - -A person, in like costume with my conductor, and with a shaven crown -even more grotesque, was pacing to and fro in the room, apparently -devoting himself to a book which he held in hand. At a question of mine, -addressed to my guide, as to where Mr. Newman might be, this personage -turned sharply round and answered, “he has been all day in the -Confessional, where he would be glad to see _you_.” “Who is that -person?” I demanded, looking towards the strange apparition, as he -continued pacing up and down, and addressing my guide. “Father Ambrose,” -was the reply. “Yes, but what is his name beyond the walls of the -Oratory?” The young man, rather reluctantly, lisped out, “Mr. S——.” -“Mr. S——,” I rejoined, “late of —— College, Oxford! Can it be -possible?” I looked at him, utterly unable to conceal my surprise, and -pitied him in my heart. The youths whom I had seen were doubtless all, -like him, young men of promise and of parts only a few years since, in -Oxford; and now to see them thus ignobly captive, and performing such -unreal and corrupting dramatics, in an age of wants and works, and of -awful realities, like this! But where was the _ignis fatuus_ of the bog -into which they had fallen? Inquiring for their Master, I was informed -he was to preach in their chapel on a certain evening, and accordingly I -attended at the appointed time. It was during the Octave of Easter, and -on entering, I observed that the altar was a bank of flowers, looking -more like the shelves of a conservatory, than the table of the Lord. -Above this horticultural display towered a thing of wax and glass and -spangles, (or what seemed to be such,) as the apparent divinity of the -shrine. It was a shameful burlesque of the Virgin, and utterly -incompetent to excite one religious or reverent thought in any mind not -entirely childish, or depraved in taste. It was surrounded with tawdry -finery, and looked like the idol of a pagoda. The room was well lighted, -and filled with the sort of people usually frequenting Romish chapels in -this country. A few well-dressed persons seemed to be strangers, and -like myself were treated with great civility. The chancel was filled -with the youths I had seen before, wearing over their cassocks the short -jacket-like surplice, usual in Italy. These were offering some prayers -in English, but they could not be called English prayers; and then -followed a hymn, given out and sung very much in the style of the -Methodists. I could not distinguish what it was altogether, but the -hymn-book which they use was given me in Birmingham, and consists, in a -great degree, of such ditties as this, which they apparently address to -the image over the altar:— - - “So age after age in the Church hath gone round, - And the Saints _new inventions_ of homage have found; - _Conceived without sin_, thy new title shall be - A new gem to thy shining, sweet Star of the Sea!” - -Many hymns in the collection are not only lack-a-daisical in the -extreme, but highly erotic, and even nauseously carnal. I could scarcely -believe my eyesight, so senseless seemed the ceremony; and yet here were -educated men, Englishmen, sons of a pure and always majestic Church, and -familiar with the Holy Scriptures from their infancy! How shall we -account for such a phenomenon in the history of the human mind, and of -the human soul? - -While the singing was going on, a lank and spectral figure appeared at -the door of the chancel—stalked in, and prostrated himself before the -altar. This was followed by a succession of elevations and prostrations, -awkward in the extreme, and both violent and excessive: but whether -required by the rubric, or dictated by personal fervor only, they added -nothing to the solemnity of the scene. Meanwhile the hymn was continued -by the disciples, as fanatically as the pantomime was performed by the -Master. But could this be the man? Could this be he who once stood in -the first pulpit of Christendom, and from his watch-tower in St. Mary’s, -told us what of the night? Was this the burning and shining light who -for a season allowed us to rejoice in his light? What an eclipse! I felt -a chill creep over me as he mounted his rostrum, and turned towards us -his almost maniacal visage. There could be no mistake. It was, indeed, -poor fallen Newman. He crossed himself, unfolded a bit of broad ribbon, -kissed it, put it over his shoulders, opened his little Bible, and gave -his text from the Vulgate—_Surrexit enim, sicut dixit_—“He is risen, -_as he said_.” The preaching was extemporaneous; the manner not fluent; -the matter not well arranged; gesticulations not violent nor immoderate; -the tone, affectedly earnest; and the whole thing, from first to last, -painfully suggestive of a sham; of something not heartily believed; of -something felt to be unreal by the speaker himself. And yet “the hand of -Joab was in it.” There was no denying the craft of no common artist. He -dwelt chiefly on _Sicut dixit_—to which he gave a very Newman-like -force, repeating the words over and over again. “_Sicut dixit_, my -friends, that is, _as he said_, but as you would not believe! This was a -reproach: as much as to say—_What did you expect? Were you not told as -much? Of course, he is risen, for he said so!_” In this way the preacher -reached the point of his discourse, which was, that “the original -disciples themselves, who thought they knew and loved Christ—nay, who -did love him, and came to embalm his body, after he was crucified—had -so little faith, as to deserve a rebuke, instead of a commendation. They -had to be harshly reminded of what Jesus had said to them with his own -mouth. Well, _just so in our day_, thousands who think they know and -love him, have yet no real faith; don’t believe, in short, what the -Church requires them to believe, and hence are strangers to the Catholic -faith.” Drawing illustrations from the days of Noe (so he called him) -and many Old Testament histories, he endeavored to show, in like manner, -that God had always required men to believe the very things they were -not willing to believe: and hence he drew his conclusion that the -slowness of men to believe all that Romanism prescribes, is mere want of -faith. It would have been quite to the point to have shown a _sicut -dixit_ in support of the matters which he endeavored to force upon us, -before he asked us to admit that denying the “Deification of Mary,” is -all the same thing as doubting the Resurrection of Christ from the dead; -but of course this joint was wanting. I was amused at the ingenuity, but -shocked at the juggle of such an argument, which was simply this—that -because it is sinful to doubt what Christ has said, therefore it is -equally sinful to doubt what _he never said_, and what is directly -contrary to many things which he did expressly say! The orator, in -delivering this apology for his new faith, by no means forgot a little -plea for himself personally, in which I saw evidence of his wounded -pride. He said, “Christ thus sent a rebuke to his disciples for not -believing what he said; and you know how hard it is, for even us, to -bear such unbelief in our friends. _We know we are sincere_; but they -say, for example, _he is artful, he don’t believe his own words, he -deceives_; or, if they don’t say that, then they say, _he is crazy, he -is beside himself, he has lost his wits_.” On this he enlarged with much -feeling, for he was pleading his own cause, and in fact he rambled on in -this direction till he had nearly forgotten his argument. But I was -amused at one instance of his forgetting himself in particular. In -referring to the hard names Christ himself had to bear, he had occasion -to quote St. Matthew xxvii., 63, where the Romish version reads, “Sir, -we have remembered that that seducer said, yet living, _etc._” But -before he knew it, he forgot that he was an actor, and unwittingly -quoted the smoother rendering of his good old English Bible, “Sir, we -remember that that deceiver said while he was yet alive.” While dwelling -on the words _that deceiver_, he bethought himself that he was quoting -heresy, and hobbled as well as he could into some other equivalent, but -whether the very words of his new Bible or not, I cannot affirm. There -were other similar haltings of the tongue, which show that a man may -have a good will to say the Romish Shibboleth, and yet betray himself -occasionally, by “not framing to pronounce it right.” Newman certainly -forgot the talismanic aspirate on this occasion; he seemed to be -conscious of playing a part, and, altogether, when he had done, I left -the place, contented to have done with him. Alas! that gold can be thus -changed, and the fine gold become so dim! - -I could not learn that he was doing much by all his efforts; in fact he -was said to be somewhat crest-fallen and irritable, about things in -Birmingham. His Oratorians were going about the streets in queer, and, -in fact, ridiculous garments, and attracting stares and jibes, and no -doubt they felt themselves martyrs; but there is, after all, much sturdy -common sense in John Bull’s hatred of the absurd, and few can think any -better of folly for wearing its cap in broad daylight. The results God -only can foresee; but a delusion so patent, one would think—if it must -have its day—must also find daylight enough in the very shortest day in -the year to kill it outright. - -They showed me, at the Oratory, a wax cast of the face of St. Philip -Neri, and a very pleasant and benevolent one it was. He was an Italian -Wesley, and the Pope was his bitter adversary, in his life-time, -interdicting him, and refusing him the Sacraments, and almost -excommunicating him. But somehow or other when he was out of the way, it -became convenient to canonize him, as a sort of patron of enthusiasts of -a certain class, who find in his fraternity, a free scope for their -feelings and passions. Oratorianism is the Methodism of the Trent -religion, but has a virtual creed of its own, and is as really a sect as -Methodism was in the life-time of its founder. Hence it is odious to -many even of the new converts, and many old-fashioned Romanists abhor -it. I left the Oratory of Mr. Newman with a deep impression that he has -yet a remaining character to act, very different from that in which he -now appears, but in which it will be evident that he is far from -satisfied, at this time, with the direction which he has given to his -own movement, and with the grounds on which he has chosen to rest his -submission to the Pope. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - - _Arrival in London, and first two days._ - - -In early life I had always promised myself a first view of London, -either approaching the Tower by water, and taking in the survey of -steeples, bridges, and docks, or else descending from Hampstead, on the -top of a rapid coach, and beholding the great dome of St. Paul’s, -arising amid a world of subordinate roofs, and looming up through their -common canopy of cloud-like smoke. Alas! for all such visions, we have -reached the age of the rail: and, consequently, I found myself, one -afternoon, set down in a busy, bustling station-house, with a confused -sensation of having been dragged through a long ditch, and a succession -of dark tunnels, and with a scarcely less confused conception of the -fact, that I was in London. A few policemen loitering about, and a line -of cabs and ’busses of truly English look, confirmed the conviction, -however, that I was really in the Metropolis, and I soon found myself -looking up my luggage, in the business way of one accustomed to the -place, and without a single rapture or emotion of the marvellous. Some -things were very different from an American station-house; as, for -example, the dignity of an ecclesiastical gentleman emerging from the -first-class carriages in cocked-hat, and solemn cravat and surtout, his -short-clothes eked into pantaloons by ponderous leggings, buttoned about -his black stockings, and his whole deportment evincing a reverend care -of his health and personal convenience—the inevitable umbrella -especially, neatly enveloped in varnished leather, and tucked under the -consequential arm; or again, the careful avoidance of the crowd evinced -by a dignified lady, accompanied by her maid, and watching with an -eye-glass the anxious manipulations of a footman, in showy livery, -piling up a stack of trunks, hat-boxes, and what not, all inscribed, -“Lady Dashey, Eaton Place, Belgrave Square.” Getting into a cab, with my -very democratic luggage safely rescued from the vans, and forcing an -exit through vehicles of all ranks, from the dog-cart up to the -lumbering coach, with footman behind, and my lord inside, I emerge at -length into London streets from the Euston Square Station, and begin to -make my way towards the focus of the world. How mechanically I jog -along, just as if I had lived here all my life, and without the least -conformity to the fact that my pulse is quickening, and mine eye -straining to realize a long ideal, which in a few minutes will be -substantial fact! Every street-sign arrests my eye, “Paddington New -Road,” “Gower Place,” “Torrington Square,” “Keppell Street,” “Bedford -Square,” “Great Russell Street,” “Bloomsbury,” “Bond Street,” “Seven -Dials,” “St. Martin’s Lane,” and now I begin to know where I am. There -is St. Martin’s—there the lion with a long tail on Northumberland -House—here is Trafalgar Square—I see Charles First on horseback, at -Charing Cross—and here old George Third, with his queue, at the head of -Cockspur Street—and here the Haymarket and Pall Mall, and here I am set -down at the hospitable door of a friend, first known in America, and who -has kindly insisted on my spending my first few days in London as his -guest. It was an unexpected pleasure, but a great one, to receive my -first impressions of London in the agreeable company of the Reverend -Ernest Hawkins, a person singularly qualified to share the feelings of a -stranger, but upon whose valuable time I should not have ventured to -trespass, except at his own friendly instance. After renewing the -acquaintance, formed during his short visit to our country in 1849, the -question was, Where shall we begin? A fine day was already clouded over, -and alternate light and shade were inviting and again discouraging -out-door amusements. However, a turn through St. James’s Park to -Whitehall was practicable enough, and at Whitehall I was resolved to -begin. Forth we go, step into the Athenæum Club House, and descend into -the Park, by the Duke of York’s Column, descrying through the mist the -towers of Westminster Abbey, and soon passing through the Horse-Guards, -stand “in the open street before Whitehall.” There is the -Banqueting-room—there the fatal window—here is the very spot, where -the tide turned between old and new, and parted on an axe’s edge. That -martyrdom! What that has happened in Church and State, not only among -Anglo-Saxons, but in the greater part of Europe, since 1649, has not -resulted from the deed of blood done here! - -My kind friend took me out upon Hungerford Bridge, and bade me use my -eyes, and tell the different objects if I could. I turned towards -Lambeth, saw the old towers through the gray mist, and began with -indescribable pleasure to single out St. Mary’s, Lambeth, the New -Parliament Houses, Westminster Hall, the Abbey, St. Margaret’s, and so -forth, till turning round, I descried St. Paul’s, (vast, sublimely so, -and magnificently tutelary,) and nearer by, Somerset House and the -bridges, and the little steamers shooting to and fro beneath their noble -arches. Enough for a first glimpse! We went into Regent Street, and by -Burlington Arcade into Piccadilly, and turning into St. James’s Street, -I first saw the old Palace at its extremity, looking just as one sees it -in Hogarth’s picture of “the Rake going to Court,” in the last century, -old and shabby, and venerable altogether. Such was my first ramble in -London and Westminster. - -I was so happy as to meet at dinner that evening, a small party of the -clergy of the Metropolis, in whose company the hours went rapidly and -delightfully by, with many warm, and, I dare say, heartfelt expressions -of interest in America and her Church; the whole presided over by my -reverend entertainer, with the most animating spirit of dignified -cordiality. The general desire which prevails to know something of a new -Bishop of the Church, may excuse my particularizing the Rev. John -Jackson, Rector of St. James’s, Westminster, and Chaplain in Ordinary to -the Queen, who was one of the party, as a person of very unassuming, but -attractive manners, of whose subsequent elevation to the See of Lincoln, -it has given me no little pleasure to learn. - -With what a world of new and confused emotions, I tried to drop to sleep -after such a day! The roof beneath which I was reposing was an historic -one. Standing in the precincts of St. James’s, it had once been the -abode of the beautiful but unhappy Nell Gwynne, the one of all those -wretched creatures who disgraced the Court of the Second Charles, for -whom one feels more pity than scorn; and for whom, remembering the -comparative goodness of her natural qualities, and her own plaintive -lament over her education in a pot-house to fill glasses for drunkards, -there must have been compassion from the Father of Mercies, and possibly -pardon from the blood that cleanseth from all sin, her penitent death -being more than probable. It is certainly gratifying that a mansion once -given up to such associations is now turned into an abode of piety and -benevolence, and made the head quarters of the operations of the -venerable S. P. G. In the chamber where I was lodged, had lately rested -those estimable missionaries, Bishops Field, and Medley, and Gray, and -Strachan; and I felt unworthy to lay my head where such holy heads had -been pillowed. But a blessing seemed to haunt the spot which they, and -many like them, had reconciled to virtue, and hallowed by their pure -repose; and I slumbered sweetly, dreaming of Lud’s town, and King Lud, -and of divers men of divers ages, who had come to London, upon manifold -errands, to seek their fortunes there, and there to flourish and wax -great, or to rise and fall, until now it was my lot to mingle with its -living tides, and then to pass away again to my far-off home, as “a -guest that tarrieth but a night.” - -When I rose in the morning, I looked out into the park, and now for the -first time, gained a clear idea of that strange scene described in -Evelyn’s Memoirs, as occurring between King Charles and Mistress Nelly, -while the grovelling monarch was walking with him in the Mall. The -wretched woman was standing on a terrace, at the end of her garden, and -looking over into the park, when the king turns from Evelyn, and going -towards her, holds a conversation with her in that public place and -manner. “I was heartily sorry at this scene,” says the pure-minded -journalist; and indeed it forboded no little evil to both Church and -nation, as well as to the miserable Prince who could thus debase his -crown and character, in the face of the open day, and of a virtuous man. - -And now, having a whole day before me, I began by attending divine -service in Westminster Abbey. Through the park and Birdcage-walk, I went -leisurely to old Palace Yard, passing round the Abbey and St. -Margaret’s, and so entered by Poets’ Corner. Service was going on, and -of course I gave myself as much as possible to its sacred impressions, -but was unable to repress some wandering thoughts, as my eyes caught the -long lines and intersections of nave and aisles, or turned upwards to -the clere-story, where the smoky sunlight of a London morning was -lingering along the old rich tracery and fret-work, to which every -cadence of the chaunt seemed to aspire, and where just so, just such -sunbeams have come and gone as quietly over all the most speaking and -eventful pageants of the British Empire, since William First was crowned -here, in the midst of those Norman and Saxon antagonists whose blood now -runs mingled in the veins of the British people. Nay, we must send back -our thoughts at least so far as Edward the Confessor, who was also -crowned here, and whose sepulchre is hard at hand. What thoughts of -human splendor, and of human nothingness! The anthem was—_Awake up my -Glory_—and as it rose and fell, and tremulously died away, distributing -its effect among innumerable objects of decayed antiquity, I seemed to -catch a new meaning in the strain of the psalmist. How many tongues were -mute, and ingloriously slumbering around me—the tongues of poets and of -princes and of priests: but the living should praise the Lord in their -stead, and in this place that humbles the glory of men, it was good to -sing—“Set up thyself, oh God, above the heavens, and thy glory above -all the earth.” When the service was over, I preferred to leave the -Abbey, with this general effect still upon me, and to take it, at some -other time, in details: and so, with only a few glances at the familiar -objects in Poet’s Corner, I passed thoughtfully through the choir, which -is extended down the nave, and so into the south aisle, and out into the -cloisters. I took passing notice of the Andre monument, and of the -Thynne monument, which I recognized by their sculpture alone. I saw at -once that I was not likely to be satisfied with such ill-placed -memorials, interesting as they may be in themselves. In the cloisters, I -was so fortunate as to meet Lord John Thynne; and on being introduced to -his Lordship, and remarking that “I remembered very well his connection -with the Abbey, as Sub-dean, from Leslie’s Picture of the Coronation,” -(in which he bears the chalice, as the Archbishop gives the Bread of the -Sacrament to Queen Victoria,) he courteously suggested that perhaps I -might think it worth while to look at the coronation robes, which are -not usually seen by visitors, but which were in his custody, and which -he should be happy to have me see. His Lordship then led the way into -the famous Jerusalem Chamber, a place not ordinarily shown, but full of -interest, not only as the scene of the swooning of Henry Fourth, but as -the seat of the Holy Anglican Synod, which has since revived, (“Laud be -to God,”) in the same Jerusalem where Henry died. This place is by no -means such as my fancy had led me to suppose, but has the air of having -been remodeled in James First’s time, although an ancient picture of -Richard Second—I think in tapestry—is sunk in the wainscot. The -chamber is small, and of very moderate architectural merit, but must -always be a place of deep and hallowed associations. Adjoining this is -the Refectory of the Westminster school-boys, into which we were shown, -and where his Lordship reminded us that the tables were made of the oak -of the Spanish Armada. They were full of holes, burned into them by the -Westminster boys, who are always ambitious each to “leave his mark” in -this way: so that as you look at them, you may fancy this to have been -burned by little George Herbert, or Ben Jonson, or John Dryden, or -Willie Cowper, or Bob Southey—all of whom have, in their day, sat on -the forms of Westminster. Until so late as 1845, this refectory was -warmed by the ancient brazier, the smoke escaping through the _louvre_ -in the roof. On coming to the Deanery, Dr. Buckland reformed this -ancient thing, and a very ugly stove now reigns in its stead, as a -monument of the Dean’s utilitarianism and nineteenth-century ideas on -all possible subjects. - -After we had carefully inspected this interesting hall, Lord John was as -good as his word, and took us to see the robes, but precisely where he -took us, it would be hard for me to say. It was in some room contiguous, -where a fidgety little woman with keys in her hands, attended as -mistress of the robes, and opening the repository of the sacred -vestments, displayed them with such profound obsequiousness to the -mildly dignified ecclesiastic who conducted us, that if she called him -“my lord” once, she did so some twenty times in a single minute. The -readers of Mrs. Strickland’s “Queens of England” will not require me to -enlarge upon these superb vestments, now dimmed and faded in their -splendour by the lapse of nearly two centuries, since they were made for -the coronation of the luckless, and almost brainless, James the Second. -They are worn at coronations only, by the clergy of the Abbey, and we -had the pleasure of seeing our reverend guide in his appropriate cope as -Sub-dean; the same which he wore when Victoria was crowned, and which -has been worn by his predecessors, successively, at the coronations of -William and Mary, Queen Anne, the four Georges, and William the Fourth. -Similar vestments in form, though not in splendour, are to this day the -rubrical attire of the clergy of the English Church in celebrating the -Holy Communion, but I believe they are now never used, although they -were in use at least in Durham Cathedral, so late as the middle of the -last century. Having seen these interesting and historical vestments, we -thanked the amiable dignitary, to whom we had been indebted for so much -polite attention, and took our leave, emerging into Dean’s Yard, and so -finding our way to the New Houses of Parliament. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - - _Sight-seeing—Westminster Hall._ - - -My emotions on first entering Westminster Hall, were scarcely inferior -to those excited by the Abbey. Of course my first glance was towards the -oaken roof, whose noble span, and elaborate construction, have been so -largely eulogized, but which derives a richer glory than its material -one, from the moral sublimity of the historic events, to which its -venerable shadow has been lent. Beneath this roof the Constitution of -England has steadily and majestically matured for centuries; and to this -spot belongs the somewhat mysterious credit of an assimilating power, -akin to that of digestion in the human system. Whatever has been the -food, it has always managed to turn it into wholesome nutriment, and to -add it to the solid substance of the British State in the shape of bone -and sinew, or of veins and nerves. It has been the scene of violence and -outrage, and of both popular and imperial tyranny. No matter! Out of all -this evil has always come substantial good. The roof dates from Richard -Second’s time; and scene the first is the usurpation of the fiery -Bolingbroke. Here rose up that daring subject, amid astounded bishops -and barons, and crossing himself broadly on the breast, profanely -uttered the famous bravado—“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, -and of the Holy Ghost, I, Henry of Lancaster, do challenge this reaume -of Englande”—adding mysterious words, from which it is equally -difficult to say on what grounds he did or did not rest his claims. Here -old Sir Thomas More forfeited his head, for high treason against “the -best of princes,” as he had long called old Harry Eighth; and here sat -old Hal himself, at Lambert’s trial, interrupting every fresh rejoinder -of the reformer, with the savage assurance—“Thou shalt burn, Lambert!” -I looked towards the great window beneath which he sat—and, lo! it was -no longer a window, but an open way, just constructed for access to the -New Houses of Parliament—a noble alteration, and a very speaking symbol -too, in my opinion; for thus, in the path of history, and from the seat -of law, will the future Senate of the Empire go to their responsible -labors as stewards of the noblest inheritance that exists among mankind. -Let them think, as they pass, of Strafford and of Charles; how in -suffering and sorrow they contributed to the British people that -distinguishing element of loyalty, which has rendered healthful their -not less characteristic love of liberty. Too many, I fear, imbued with -the superficial views of Macaulay, invest with sublimer associations the -fanatical Court which tried and condemned their Sovereign. Here sat -those bold, bad men; and daring, indeed, was their work; nor do I doubt -that it has been over-ruled for good to England; but then it should not -be forgotten, that the subsequent history of progressive and rational -freedom is far more directly the result of the wholesome resistance -opposed by Church and Crown to the spirit of anarchy, than to anything -in that spirit itself. Had the King of England been a Bourbon—had the -Church of England been a Genevan or a Roman one, that flood must have -washed all landmarks away: and the fabric of Constitutional Liberty, -which now attracts the admiration of all thinking men, could never have -been constructed. Honour, then, to the martyrs of Law and of Religion, -who, beneath this roof, built up the only barrier that has turned back -the turbulent waves of modern barbarism! I stood, and thought of -Charles, with sorrow for his grievous faults, but yet with gratitude for -the manly recompense he offered here to a people whom he had -unintentionally injured through their own antiquated laws, but whom he -defended against the worse tyranny of lawless usurpation, by his -majestic protest in this Hall, and by sealing it with his blood. Here, -too, the seven bishops delivered the Church and State of England when -they stood up against the treacherous son of Charles, and completed the -triumph of the Church by proving it as true to the people, as it had -been to the throne, on the same foundation of immutable principle. This -was the roof that rang with the shouts of vindicated justice, when those -fathers of the Church were set free! I looked up, and surveyed every -beam and rafter with reverence. The angels, carved in the hammer-beams, -were looking placidly down, each one with his shield upon his breast, -like the guardian spirits of a nation, true to itself and to ancestral -faith and order. The symbol is an appropriate one; for the frame-work of -the British Constitution is like this roof of Richard in many respects, -but in none more than this—that the strength and beauty of the whole -are fitly framed together, with inseparable features of human wisdom and -of divine truth; the latter being always conspicuous, and investing all -with reverend dignity and grace. - -The floor of the old Hall presents a less sentimental aspect, and might -easily plunge imagination, by one step, into the ridiculous. Here are -the barristers walking about with clients, and with each other, arm in -arm, their gray wigs of divers tails, some set awry, and some strongly -contrasted with black and red whiskers, giving them a ludicrous -appearance; while their gowns, some of them shabby enough, are curiously -tucked under the arm, or carelessly dangling about the heels, apparently -an annoyance to the wearers, in either case. The several courts were in -session, in chambers which open out of the hall, along its sides. I -stepped into the Chancellor’s Court, where sat Lord Truro, listening, or -perhaps _not listening_, to the eminent Mr. Bethell. His Lordship in his -walrus wig, with a face proverbially likened to the hippopotamus, seemed -to represent the animal kingdom, as well as that of which the mace and -seal-bag, lying before him, were the familiar tokens. The court-room is -very small, popular audiences being not desirable, and open doors being -all that popular right can require. Here the same barristers looked far -from ludicrous—their attire seemed to fit the place and its duties. -Doubtless the influence of such things is an illusion, but nevertheless -it is a useful one, and contributes to the dignity, which it only -appears to respect. We need some such things in our Republic. Next I -stepped into the Vice-Chancellor’s Court, and saw Sir J. L. Knight Bruce -administering the law; and here I was introduced to several eminent -lawyers, whose cauliflower wigs covered a world of learning and of grave -intelligence. Stepping into the Common Pleas, there sat in a row, Lord -Chief Justice Jervis, and Justices Creswell, Williams and Talfourd. I -could not but look with interest at the author of Ion, but in the -disguise of his magistracy, I looked in vain for any feature which I -could identify with his portraits. In the Court of Queen’s Bench, Lord -Campbell was presiding, with three others; in the Bail Court, I saw -Justice Coleridge; and in the Court of Exchequer, Lord Chief Baron -Pollock, with Barons Park, Platt and Martin. Thus, with the greatest -facility, and in a very short space of time, can one see the most -favoured sons of the British Themis, and gain a good idea of the dignity -and close attention to business with which these courts are managed. The -Supreme Court of our own country, is far inferior in appearance, -although it is the only American Court which admits of any comparison -with these, and yet it is allowed on all hands, that “the law’s delay” -in England is an intolerable grievance, and that the expense of -obtaining justice, at these tribunals, is of itself a crying injustice. - -Sallying forth into the street, I went round to view the rising -splendours of the Victoria Tower, the massive proportions of which -almost dwarf those of the Abbey. It confuses the beholder by the -elaborate richness of its details, its profuse symbolism, and all the -variety of its heraldic and allegorical decoration. When completed, it -will give a new, but harmonious aspect, to the acres of sacred and -princely architecture which spread around; but these English builders -are very slow in its construction, and prefer that it should rise only -ten feet a year, rather than hazard its chance of continuing forever. -How differently we _go ahead_ in America! This new palace of Westminster -will still be many years in finishing, but it is worthy of the nation to -let it thus grow after its own fashion. Alas! one fears, however, that -it is to be made the scene of the gradual taking down of the nation -itself. It is too likely to prove the house in which John Bull will be -worried to death by his own family. - -In company with a friend, I next “took water” at Westminster bridge, for -a trip down the river. This _silent highway_ is now as busy as the -Strand itself—the spiteful little steamers that ply up and down, being -almost as numerous and as noisy as the omnibusses. Very swiftly we glide -along the river’s graceful bend, passing Whitehall, Richmond Terrace, -and the house lately occupied by Sir Robert Peel; shooting under -Hungerford bridge, past old Buckingham house, and the Adelphi Terrace, -and so under Waterloo bridge, to the Temple Gardens, where we land, and -where I find myself delighted with the casual survey of the different -walks and buildings, and especially with the Temple Church. Emerging -into Fleet-street, choked with carts and carriages, here is Temple-bar! -Passing under its arches, we are in the Strand, and so make our way to -Charing-Cross. Having made a complete circuit, by land and water, I -again went to Westminster bridge, and stepping into a steamer sailed up -the river to Chelsea. Here we pass the river-front of the New Houses of -Parliament; and granting that there is a monotony of aspect in the long -stretch of the pile, as it rises from the water, I think it must be -allowed that, when complete, with its towers and decorations, the whole, -taking the Abbey also into view, will furnish the noblest architectural -display in the world. Westminster bridge should be reconstructed, in -harmony with the rest, and then, whoever may find fault with the scene, -may be safely challenged to find its parallel for magnificence and -imperial effect. - -And yet looking to the other side of the river, how far more attractive -to my eye were the quiet gardens and the venerable towers of Lambeth! -Its dingy brick, and solemn little windows, with the reverend ivy -spreading everywhere about its walls, seemed to house the decent and -comely spirit of religion itself: and one could almost gather the true -character of the Church of England, from a single glance at this old -ecclesiastical palace, amid the stirring and splendid objects with which -it is surrounded. Old, and yet not too old; retired, and yet not -estranged from men; learned, and yet domestic; religious, yet nothing -ascetic; and dignified, without pride or ostentation; such is the ideal -of the Metro-political palace, on the margin of the Thames. I thought as -I glided by, of the time when Henry stopped his barge just here to take -in Archbishop Cranmer, and give him a taste of his royal displeasure: -and of the time when Laud entered his barge at the same place, to go by -water to the Tower, “his poor neighbours of Lambeth following him with -their blessings and prayers for his safe return.” They knew his better -part. - -We had a fine view of Chelsea Hospital, and passed by Chelsea Church, -famous for the monument of Sir Thomas More. We landed not far from this -Church, and called upon Martin, whose illustrations of Milton and -“Belshazzar’s Feast” have rendered him celebrated as a painter of a -certain class of subjects, and in a very peculiar style. He was engaged -on a picture of the Judgment, full of his mannerism, and sadly blemished -by offences against doctrinal truth, but not devoid of merit or of -interest. He asked about Allston and his Belshazzar, and also made -inquiries about Morse, of whose claim as the inventor of the Electric -Telegraph, he was entirely ignorant. Returning, we landed at Lambeth, -and my friend left his card at the Archbishop’s; observing, as we passed -into the court, that we should find the door of the residence itself -standing open, with a servant ready to receive us, as we accordingly -did. Such is the custom. - -We then crossed Westminster bridge, and went to Whitehall, on foot, -visiting the Banqueting-room, now a royal chapel. The Apotheosis of -James the First, by Rubens, adorns the roof, but I tried in vain to be -pleased with it. The first question—“which is the fatal window through -which King Charles passed to the scaffold”—I asked quite in vain, for -nobody seems to be entirely sure about it. The chapel is heavy, and -unecclesiastical, although more like a sanctuary, in appearance, than -the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican. We went into the court, or garden -behind the Banqueting-house, to look at James Second’s statue, by -Grinling Gibbons. It is in Roman costume, and defiled by soot and dust, -and the peculiar pointing position of one of its hands, has given -currency to a vulgar error, that it indicates the spot where the blood -of Charles fell from the scaffold. A soldier mounts guard in this place, -for it is yet regarded as a royal palace; all beside is quiet, and I -often returned to the spot during my residence in London, as one well -fitted for meditation, recalling such historical associations as memory -retained, and striving in vain to conceive it possible that here, in -very deed, such thrilling scenes were enacted two hundred years ago. -Even now there is nothing ancient about the looks of Whitehall. It -requires an effort to connect it at all with the past: and when one sees -the vane upon its roof, and imagines it the very one to which James -Second was always looking, while he prayed the Virgin and all the Saints -to keep William of Orange off the coast, even the era of 1688 seems -reduced to a modern date, and stripped of all its character as something -ancestral, and belonging to past time. I confess that in this garden of -Whitehall, I awoke from an American illusion, and began to feel that two -centuries is a very short period of time; just as afterward, on the -Continent, the scale took another slide upwards, and taught me to feel -that everything is modern which has happened since the Christian era. -This discovery gives one a curious sensation, and I am not sure that I -am the happier for having seen monuments of real antiquity, which have -had the effect of freshening the comparative antiquity of England, and -of reducing everything in America to the dead level of time present. I -was happier when I visited the ruins of the old Fort on Lake George, and -innocently imagined it a spot both ancient and august. - -My reader will think my day sufficiently full already, but I must not -conclude without some reference to the pleasures of the evening. I drove -out to Chelsea, where the pupils of St. Mark’s Training College -performed the Oratorio of “Israel in Egypt.” The hail-stone chorus was -given with great effect, and several of the solos and recitatives were -creditably executed. I saw there, among others, Lord Monteagle, better -known as Mr. Spring Rice, but was more pleased with an introduction to -the head of the College, Mr. Derwent Coleridge, who showed me a very -striking portrait of his father—“the rapt one of the godlike forehead,” -and made some feeling allusions to his brother Hartley, then lately -dead. I saw also another member of this interesting family, Sara -Coleridge, one of the cleverest of womankind. Returning to London, I -stepped from the carriage at Hyde Park Corner, where chariots and wheels -of every description were still rumbling incessantly, and where the -gas-lamps made it light as day, though it was now eleven o’clock. I -looked at Apsley-house, where the Iron Duke was then living, and so made -my way along Piccadilly and St. James’s-street, as pleasantly as if I -had known them all my days, but thinking such thoughts as nothing but an -American’s earliest experiences of London life can possibly inspire. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - - _Hyde Park—Excursion to Oxfordshire._ - - -My plan was to fix my head-quarters in London, and to make excursions -thence into the various parts of the country which I desired to see. -This enabled me to choose my times for being in the Metropolis, and also -for visiting other places; and I found it better, on many accounts, than -the more usual method of seeing London all at once, and then going -through the rest of England in a tour. I took lodgings in Bury-street, -St. James’s, a time-honored place for the temporary abode of strangers, -and in all respects convenient for my purposes. On looking into _Peter -Cunningham_, I found I had unwittingly placed myself near the old haunts -of several famous men of letters. Dean Swift lodged in this street in -1710, and Sir Richard Steele about the same time. Crabbe took his turn -here in 1817, and here Tom Moore was sought out by Lord Byron, a few -years earlier. Just round the corner, in Jermyn-street, Gray used to -sojourn; and there, too, Sir Walter Scott lodged for the last time in -London, after his return from the Continent in 1832. Hard by, still -lives old Samuel Rogers, and Murray’s famous publishing-house is but a -few steps out of the way. I was, at first, a little provoked at -_Cunningham_ for getting up a book which tends to put the most stupid -visitor of London on a footing with the man whose general reading has -fitted him to enjoy it: but many little pleasures which he thus supplied -me, by recalling things forgotten, quite altered my humour towards him; -especially as I soon reflected that the traveller to whom he only -restores such information, must always have the advantage over one who -gains it for the first time, at second hand. - -I could now step into St. James’s Park, and freshen my appetite for -breakfast, while enjoying its delightful air, and venerable -associations. I soon learned how to protract my walk, passing Buckingham -Palace, up Constitution Hill, and so into Hyde Park—where one may spend -the day delightfully, and almost fancy himself in the country. Indeed, -stretching one’s rambles into Kensington Gardens, it is not easy to be -moderate in the enjoyment, or to return without fatigue; so vast is the -extent of these successive ranges, and so much of England can one find, -as it were, in the midst of London. Oh, wise and prudent John Bull, to -ennoble thy metropolis with such spacious country-walks, and to sweeten -it so much with country air! Truly these lungs of London are vital to -such a Babylon, and there is no beauty to be compared to them in any -city I have ever seen. Talk of the Tuilleries—talk of the _Champs -Elysées_—you may throw in _Luxembourg_ and _Jardin des Plantes_ to -boot, and in my estimation Hyde Park is worth the whole. I do not think -the English are half proud enough of their capital, conceited as they -are about so many things besides. They are ashamed of Trafalgar Square -and some other slight mistakes, and they always apologize for London, -and wonder what a foreigner can find to please him, in the mere exterior -of its immensity. But _foreigner_, forsooth! I always felt that an -Anglo-American may feel himself far more at home in London, than many -who inhabit there. Who are the reigning family, but a race of Germans, -never yet completely naturalized either in Church or State? What is -England to Prince Albert, except as he can use it for his own purposes? -But to me, and to many of my countrymen, it is as dear as heart’s blood; -every fibre of our flesh, every particle of our bone, and the whole -fabric of our thought, as well as the vitalizing spirit of our holy -religion, being derived from the glorious Isle, in whose own tongue we -call her blessed. It is not as unfilial to America, but only as faithful -to the antecedents of my own beloved country, that I ask no Englishman’s -leave to walk the soil of England with filial pride, and in some sense -to claim “a richer use of his,” than he himself enjoys. He dwells in it, -and uses it of necessity for some ignoble purposes; but I have no -associations with the malt-tax, or with manufactories. England reveals -herself to me only in her higher and nobler character, as the mother, -and nurse, and glorious preceptress of the race to which I belong. -Hence, I say, it is only a true American who can feel the entire and -unmixed sentiment and poetry of England. - -It was soon after my arrival in the Metropolis that I went, one -afternoon, to see the display of horsemanship, in Hyde Park. Strange -that the scene of so much aristocratic display should be known as -“Rotten-Row!” It is a road for saddle-horses exclusively, and very -exclusive are the equestrians generally, who enjoy their delightful -exercise in its pale. Here you see the best of horse-flesh, laden with -the “porcelain-clay” of human flesh. The sides of the road are lined -with pedestrians, some of whom touch their hats to the riders, and are -recognized in turn; but most of them look wishfully on the sport of -others, as if they were conscious that they were born to be nobody, and -were unfeignedly sorry for it. Ha! how dashingly the ladies go by, and -how ambitiously their favored companions display their good fortune in -attending them! Here a gay creature rides independently enough, with her -footman at a respectful distance. She is an heiress, and the young -gallants whom she scarcely deigns to notice, are dying of love for her -and her guineas. Here comes an old gentleman and his two beautiful -daughters. It is Lord ——, and the elder of the twain is soon to be -married, the fortunate expectant being a nobleman of large estates. We -look in vain this afternoon for “the Duke.” But very likely we shall see -him before our walk is done. Yonder whirls a barouche, with outriders. -It is the Queen and Prince Albert taking an airing. A Bishop comes along -on horseback. “It must be one of the Irish Bishops,” said the friend -with whom I was walking, “for I certainly have never seen him before.” - -I now saw the Crystal Palace for the first time, and scarcely looked at -it at all. It was just what every body knows, from ten thousand -pictures. I had a prejudice against it, at this time, heightened by the -fact that many, whom I had met, had innocently taken it for granted that -an American must, of course, have come to England to see the show. The -idea of going to England to look at anything short of England itself! -Besides, I supposed it a mere toy of Prince Albert’s—just the thing for -a Dutch folly—or, like the Russian ice-palace, - - ————“Work of imperial dotage, - Shining, and yet so false!” - -I looked, therefore, and passed by. A fine walk we had to Kensington -Gardens, and round by Bayswater, returning across Hyde Park. It was -pleasant to see the good use to which these vast grounds are put by the -People proper. Children and their nurses seem to take their fill of -them. It was George the Second, I think, who asked Walpole what it would -cost to fence in St. James’s Park, so as to keep the people out. “Only -_three crowns_,” was the reply; and the heavy Hanoverian learned an -important lesson, as to the difference between British freemen, and the -sort of people he had been wont to deal with, in his darling Electorate. - -One morning I attended a meeting of the Venerable S. P. G. The estimable -Bishop of Bangor presided, and the ordinary monthly business was -despatched. On this occasion, I was so happy as to meet with Lord -Lyttleton, Mr. Beresford Hope, and others, whose names are familiar to -American Churchmen, as identified with zeal and devotion to the noble -work of Evangelization. The American Church, and her relations with her -nursing Mother, were frequently alluded to; and, as an act of Christian -recognition, I found myself admitted a corresponding member of the -Society. Though I could not suppose the compliment a personal one, -designed as it was in honor of the Orders of our Church, I felt it no -small privilege to receive this humble share in the noble organization -to which, under God, our Church owes its existence; and I felt it the -more, as being myself the descendant of a lowly but devoted Missionary, -who died in the service of the Society. I was pleased with the earnest, -but very quiet and affable spirit of this meeting. No show, nor swelling -words; and yet the spiritual interests of empires, and of national -Churches, present and yet to be, the fruits of the Society’s labors, -were deeply and religiously weighed, and dealt with. Beautiful tokens of -the Society’s fruitfulness hung round the walls—portraits of English -Missionary Bishops, such as Heber, and Selwyn, and Broughton. These are -its trophies. - -My first excursion into the country was made somewhat earlier than I had -forecasted, in accepting a kind invitation to Cuddesdon, from the Bishop -of Oxford. This promised me the double pleasure of an immediate -acquaintance with Oxford itself, and of a no less agreeable introduction -to the eminent prelate, whose elevation to that See has so highly served -the dearest interests of the Church, not in England only, but also -throughout Christendom. The name of Wilberforce has received new lustre -in the person of this gifted divine; and certainly there was no one in -England whom I more desired to see, for the sake of the interest -inspired by public character and by published works. His known -hospitality, and interest in visitors from all parts of the world, -relieved me from surprise in receiving this unexpected attention, and I -felt sure I should experience no disappointment in indulging the -confidence and affection inspired by such cordiality. Arriving in -Oxford, I threw myself into a cab, and set off for the Bishop’s -residence, about eight miles distant—taking a drive through -High-street, in my way. Every object seemed familiar; I could scarcely -believe that I was, for the first time, looking at those venerable -walls. Here was St. Mary’s—here All Souls—here Queen’s—and there is -the tower of Magdalen. Even “the Mitre” and “the Angel” looked like -Inns, in which I had often “taken mine ease.” A few gownsmen were -loitering along the streets, but the town was quite deserted, it being -the Easter holiday time. Here, at last, were the old gables of Magdalen; -and now I pass the Cherwell, and get a view of Magdalen-walks on one -hand, and of Christ Church meadows on the other. And now a tollgate, and -now the country road—and I can scarce conceive that I have passed -through Oxford, and that mine eyes have really seen it, and that fancy, -and the pictures, are no longer my chief medium of knowing how it looks. -How rapidly I have lost the use of helps on which I have depended for -years! Like the lame man healed, I can hardly believe that I have gone -on crutches. But honestly, now—is the reality up to what I looked for? -Thus I thought, and questioned, as I jogged along. - -Cuddesdon is the name of a little hamlet in Oxfordshire, on a wooded -hill, overlooking a wide extent of country, besprinkled with many -similar hamlets, and distinguished by a pretty parish Church, and the -adjoining residence, or palace, of the Bishop. The residence is one of -those rambling and nondescript houses, of ecclesiastical look, which one -associates with English rural scenery; but of a class which it is -difficult to characterize, except as something too modest for a -nobleman’s seat, and something too lordly for a vicarage. The nearness -of the parish Church might, indeed, suggest the idea of the parson’s -abode—but what should a parish priest want of so large a house, or of -the little private chapel which, on one side, makes a conspicuous part -of the pile? On the whole, one might conceive it the residence of a -Bishop without being told the fact, or before descrying the arms of the -See, over the entrance, encircled by the Garter, of which most noble -Order, the Bishop is Chancellor. Nothing could exceed the kindness and -affability with which the estimable prelate received me, and made me -welcome as his guest: his manner, at once dignified and engaging, -sufficing immediately to make a visitor at home in his presence, however -deeply impressed with reverence for his person. I esteemed it an -additional privilege to be presented to the Bishop’s brother, Archdeacon -Wilberforce, then just arrived at the palace from his own residence in -Yorkshire: and I soon found, among the guests of the Bishop, several -other persons of eminent position in society, from whose agreeable -intercourse I derived the highest satisfaction. I had arrived on a -Saturday, and, after a pleasant evening, the week was solemnly closed in -the private chapel, with appropriate prayers. Here, twice every day, all -the members of the household, the family, the guests, and the servants -together, are assembled before the Lord their Maker, while the Bishop, -like a patriarch, assisted by his chaplains, offers the sacrifices of -prayer and thanksgiving, and sanctifies his house. It was beautiful, on -one occasion, to see such a household together receiving the Holy -Eucharist, and it was good to participate in the solemnity. The sanctity -of my privilege, as the guest of such a family, forbids any further -allusion to the delightful scenes of domestic piety of which I was so -confidingly made a sharer; but I cannot withhold a tribute to the -character of a true Bishop, who has incidentally enabled me to testify -of at least one English prelate, that “he serves God with all his -house,” and makes that service the one thing indispensable and most -important, in all the distributions of private life, its kindly offices, -and endearing charities. - -I accompanied his Lordship, next day, into Oxford, where he preached at -St. Ebbe’s to a very large congregation. This Church is very plain and -countryfied—astonishingly so for Oxford; but the worshippers were -devout and earnest in their attention. The sermon was suited to the -Service for the day, and I was not disappointed in the manner, nor yet -in the matter, of it. The Bishop is a truly eloquent man. His voice is -sweet, and often expressive of deep feeling, or of tender emotion. He -uses more action than most English preachers, or rather he has much less -of inactivity in his preaching. Occasionally he looks off from his -manuscript, and launches into warm extemporaneous address. Altogether, I -regard him as very happily combining the advantages of the English and -American pulpits. More than any other of whom I know anything, he unites -the delicacy and refinement of the former with the earnestness and -practical effect of the latter. - -After a short visit to Wadham College, where I had the pleasure of -meeting the late Vice-Chancellor of the University, Dr. Symmons, we -returned to Cuddesdon. Our road lay through the village of Wheatley, -where the bells were chiming for service as we passed. Ascending the -hills, we alighted and walked; and, by and by, the good Bishop, pointing -to a little hamlet not far off, said to me, “there lived, once upon a -time, a man named John Milton. There is Forest Hill—there is -Shotover—and walking over these hills, he composed _Allegro_ and -_Penseroso_.” How it thrilled my soul, as I listened to his words, and -looked delightedly over the scenes to which he directed my attention! We -soon reached Cuddesdon, and attended divine service in the parish -Church, which was filled chiefly with a rustic people, many of them in -hob-nailed shoes, and brown frocks, neatly arrayed, but in the manner of -a peasantry, such as we know nothing about in America. The chancel of -the Church has been lately restored by the Bishop, and is in excellent -taste and keeping throughout. The Church itself is a cruciform one, -originally Norman, but much altered, and in parts injured, during -successive ages. Its aisles are early English; but many details, in -perpendicular, have been introduced in different portions of the pile. -Here and there in the wood-work are touches of Jacobean re-modeling. -Still, altogether, it is a most interesting Church, and it afforded me -great pleasure to worship there, with the rustics and their Bishop, and -with a pretty fair representation of the divers ranks of English -society, all uniting, happily and sweetly, in their ancestral worship. -It was a delicious day, and the glimpses of sky and country, which we -gained through the portals and windows, were additional inspirers of -gratitude to God. After service, the Bishop led me round the Church, and -showed me the grave where one of his predecessors had laid a beloved -child. A stone lay upon it, containing the exquisite lament of Bishop -Lowth for his daughter, which I remembered to have seen before, but -which never seemed half so touching and pathetic as now, while Bishop -Wilberforce repeated it from the chiseled inscription:— - - “Cara Maria, Vale; at veniet felicius ævum - Quando iterum tecum, sim modo dignus, ero: - Cara redi, læta tum dicam voce, paternos - Eja age in amplexus, cara Maria, redi!” - -That evening, as we sat at the Bishop’s table, the bells of Cuddesdon -pealed forth a curfew chime. Oh, how sweet! A lady then reminded me that -Cuddesdon was one of the “upland hamlets,” alluded to in _L’Allegro_,— - - “Where the merry bells ring round, - And the jocund rebecks sound.” - -And so happily closed my day, that, but for some reverting thoughts to -the dear home I had left behind me, I must say I went as sweetly to -sleep, in the spell of its delights, as did poor Pilgrim in that chamber -of his Progress, from whence he was sure of a view of the Delectable -Mountains as soon as he should awake in the morning. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - - _Miltonian ramble—Forest-hill, etc._ - - -Horton, in Buckinghamshire, is supposed to have supplied to Milton the -imagery of the _Allegro_ and _Penseroso_, chiefly because he there -composed those delightful poems, in which the very essence of what is -most poetical in the scenery and rural life of England is so admirably -condensed. But if it could be shown that, so early in the maiden life of -Mary Powell as when these poems appeared, she had become the cynosure of -Milton’s eyes, and had attracted him to Forest-Hill as a visitor, it -might, one would suppose, be very fairly maintained, that this place -alone answers, in all respects, to the demands of the poetry in -question. It may at least be said with justice, that when the poet -visited Forest-Hill with his bride, he realized more perfectly there -than anywhere else, the rural delights which he has so exquisitely -detailed; and which he has invested at one time with the sprightly -aspect in which Nature reveals herself to youth and health, and, at -another, with the more sentimental beauties which she wears before the -eye of refined and meditative maturity. However, it was not for me to -settle such nice questions. Forest-Hill lies not far from Milton, where -the poet’s grandfather lived, and from which comes his name; and -Shotover-Forest, of which the grandfather was ranger, is part of the -same vicinage. It is very probable that the Powells were early friends -of the poet, and that his youthful imagination was wont to haunt the -whole hill-country thereabout, in honour of the lady’s charms to whom he -afterwards gave his hand. Such at least was my creed, for the time, when -I enjoyed a delightful walk over the scenes in the company of -intelligent persons whose remarks often heightened not a little the -extraordinary pleasures of the day. - -Among the Bishop’s guests, at breakfast, there was the usual planning of -occupations for the morning, and I heard with great satisfaction the -proposal of a walk to Forest-Hill, in which it was supposed I might be -glad to share. Our party was soon made up, consisting of the Archdeacon, -the Rev. Mr. J——, Sir C—— A——, a young Etonian closely related to -the Bishop’s family, and the Bishop’s youngest son. After some -preliminary reconnoiterings about the hamlet of Cuddesdon itself, (of -which the adjoining slopes and meadows furnish very pretty views,) off -we went, well shod and with sturdy staves in hand, and in all respects -well-appointed for an English ramble; which implies everything requisite -for thorough enjoyment of the diversion. We stretched our legs, as -Walton would say, over Shotover-Hill, encountering a variety of rustic -objects in the fields and farms; here a fold of sheep, and there a -hedge, and again a ditch, or a turnip-field, but everything in its turn -was of interest to me as presenting, in some form or other, a contrast -to similar objects in my own country, the advantage being generally in -favor of England, so far as the picturesque is concerned. I can indeed -think of many a walk in America, incomparably more interesting than this -in the character of its scenery; but what I mean is, that the same kind -of country with us, would have been almost devoid of interest. Thus, -instead of presenting field after field, cultivated like a garden, -beautifully hedged and exhibiting every mark of careful husbandry; or a -succession of green pastures, in which fine cattle, and the whitest and -fattest of sheep were disposed in a manner entirely suitable to the -painter; or instead of a succession of views of the most pleasing -variety; here a hamlet and spire, and there a neat cottage, and there a -lordly mansion among trees, and there a snug farmhouse: the same number -of miles with us, over a slightly undulating country, devoted to -pasturage and farming, would scarcely have offered a single scene on -which the eye could rest with satisfaction. At length, we reached -Shotover-Lodge, which has unfortunately been rebuilt within the last -hundred years, but the original of which supplies the ideal of those -famous lines in _L’Allegro_— - - “Russet lawns and fallows gray - Where the nibbling flocks do stray; - Towers and battlements it sees - Bosomed high in tufted trees, - Where perhaps some beauty lies, - The cynosure of neighboring eyes.” - -Next we descended into a daisied meadow, and looked for the plowman and -the milkmaid, as it was yet too early for the tanned haycock, or the -mower whetting his scythe. Here the Archdeacon recalled to my mind a -criticism of Warton’s, which I had quite forgotten, asking me if I -remembered the meaning of the lines— - - “And every shepherd _tells his tale_, - Under the hawthorn in the dale,” - -in which the idea is not that of narrative, or eclogue, but the more -English one of Thyrsis turning the sheep out of fold for the day, and -counting them, one by one; that is, _telling the tale_, like the tale of -brick exacted by the Egyptians, as we read in Genesis. Many such -comments from my companions gave great inspiration to the ramble, which -brought us at last up the sides of Forest-Hill itself, where we first -encountered some cottages of surprising neatness, inhabited by thrifty -tenants, who farmed a few acres of their own hiring. Here Sir C——, -like a true Protectionist, stopped to ask a few questions of Hodge and -his family about the prospects of “the British farmer,” and the -practical results of Cobdenism; and I fancied, from the interest taken -in the disclosures by my young friend from Eton, that the lads who now -play cricket on the banks of the Thames, under “the antique towers,” are -not unlikely, at some future day, to maintain the rights of the landed -gentry, with the same primary reference to agriculture which so largely -distinguishes Mr. Disraeli. And now we came to the little Church of -Forest-Hill, where, for aught I know, Milton was married to the daughter -of the good old cavalier, but where he could not have been surrounded by -a very great crowd of rejoicing friends upon the happy occasion, as the -sacred place will scarcely contain threescore persons at a time. It has -no tower, but only one of those pretty little gable-cots for the bell, -so familiar of late in our own improving architecture of country -Churches. The altar-window is near the road, and the bell-gable is at -the other extremity, surmounting the slope of the land, on a pretty -terrace of which, embosomed among the trees and shrubs, is situated the -parsonage. The little Church itself is of the early English period, but -has repairs in almost every variety of pointed style, and some in no -style at all. It has had very little aid from the builder, however, for -nearly a century. In the early Caroline period, or a little before the -date of Milton’s marriage, it was probably new-roofed and put into good -order, possibly as the result of injunctions from the King and Council, -with some of whom, “the filthy-lying of Churches” was not reckoned a -proof of growing godliness in the nation. Accordingly I noticed on one -of the tie-beams of the roof, the inscription, C. 1630 R., and again on -the door, C. R. 1635. In the churchyard is a remarkably fine holly tree, -and, what is still more interesting, the grave of Mickle, the translator -of the Lusiad. Here he lies, ignorant alike that his Lusiad is almost -forgotten, and that his little ballad of Cumnor-Hall has reproduced -itself in the world-famous story of Kenilworth. We ventured to call at -the parsonage, where we were very courteously shown the parish-register, -a little old parchment book, in which I observed the entry of Mary -Powell’s christening, and also the record of burial of persons brought -in after such and such a fight, in the Civil Wars. In a nice little -cottage hard by, we found an old dame teaching half-a-dozen children; -and if any one marvels at my mentioning so insignificant a fact, let me -say that it was one of the most pleasing of my day’s adventures to visit -this school, which seemed to be the original of many a queer cut, -familiar from the painted story-books of the nursery. The cottage seemed -to contain but one room, the dame’s bed being turned up against the -wall, and neatly concealed by a check curtain. The windows were -casements, with diamond panes—and the walls were so thick, that the -window-sill afforded space for several boxes of plants, set there for -the sunlight. The floor was so neat, that it might have served for a -table without offence to the appetite; sundry shelves shone with -polished pewter and tin; the whitewash, without and within, was fresh -and sweet; and sundry vines were trained about the door. The little -scholars, evidently the children of laboring people, were tidy in their -appearance too, and they sat, each upon his stool, with A-B-C-Book held -demurely before the nose, and eyes asquint at the visitors. Every thing -convinced me that the old dame was a strict disciplinarian, whose “moral -suasion” consisted in the rod of Solomon, fairly displayed before the -eyes of the urchins, and no doubt faithfully used. And yet nothing could -exceed the good-nature and propriety of her appearance, except the -humility with which she seemed to regard the literary pretensions of her -academy. Good-bye, dame! Reverend is thy little starched cap, and -dignified thy seat in the corner of the chimney. True, they teach -greater things hard by, at Oxford; but thou art an humble co-worker with -its ablest Dons and Doctors: and happy are the children, who have only -to peep out of their school-house door to see the top-rounds of the -ladder, about the foot of which they climb; even the towers of Christ -Church, and of Magdalen, and the dome of the Radcliffe Library. - -“Yes,” said one of my companions—“when the Great Tom of Oxford rings -its _hundred-and-one_ of a summer evening, then, standing on this hill, -you will get the meaning of Milton’s lines:— - - “’Oft, on a plat of rising ground - I hear the far-off curfew sound, - Over some wide-watered shore, - _Swinging slow, with sullen roar_.’” - -To which I ventured to object, that although the heavy sound of a bell -like the Great Tom would alone justify the description in the last of -these lines, I saw nothing in the view before me, to account for the -allusion to a “wide-watered shore.” This, however, was met by the -assurance that the little rivulet, which might be seen in the mead, was -not unfrequently lost in a spreading inundation, and that at such times -nothing could be more descriptive than the very words of the poem! This, -I was bound to admit as satisfactory. And now I made a discovery of my -own. Hard by the dame’s cottage I found a spring, overarched with -substantial masonry, and adorned with ivy. I suggested that John Milton -had certainly tasted of that water, for that the well was antique, and -evidently designed for the use of a gentleman’s household; to which Sir -C——, who is a judge of such matters, at one assented, pronouncing it -of the period of Mary Powell’s youth, and paying my discovery the -practical compliment of producing his sketch-book, and drawing it on the -spot. A similar drawing he made of the Powell house itself, to which we -now proceeded. It presents the remains of a much larger house, but even -in its reduced dimensions, is quite sufficient for a comfortable farmer. -Still the rose, the sweet-briar and eglantine are redolent beneath its -casements; the cock, at the barn-door, may be seen from any of its -windows; and doubtless the barn itself is the very one in which the -shadowy flail of Robin Goodfellow threshed all night, to earn his bowl -of cream. In the house itself we were received by the farmer’s daughter, -who looked like “the neat-handed Phillis” herself; although her -accomplishments were, by no means, those of a rustic maiden, for she -evidently had entered fully into the spirit of the place, and imbued -herself with that of the poetry in no mean degree. We were indebted to -her for the most courteous reception, and were conducted by her into -several apartments of the house, concerning all of which she was able to -converse very intelligently. In the kitchen, with its vast hearth and -over-hanging chimney, we discovered tokens of the good-living for which -the old manor-house was no doubt famous in its day: and in its floor, -was a large stone said to have been removed from a room, now destroyed, -which was formerly the poet’s study. The garden, in its massive wall, -and ornamented gateway, and an old sundial, retains some trace of its -manorial dignities in former times—when the maiden Mary sat in her -bower, thinking of her inspired lover; or when, perchance, the runaway -wife sighed and wept here over a letter brought by the post, commanding -Mistress Milton to return to her duty in a dark corner of London, on -pain of her husband’s displeasure, and of being made the heroine of a -book on divorce! Our fair conductress next called our attention to an -outhouse, now degraded to the office of domestic brewing, but which she -supposed to be the “still, _removed_ place” of _Penseroso_; and in proof -of the nobler office to which it had been originally designed, she -pointed out the remains of old _pargetting_, or ornamental plaster-work, -in its gables. The grace with which she used this term of art, would -have rejoiced the soul of an ecclesiological enthusiast. Moreover, she -brought forth a copy of Sir William Jones’ Letters, and pointed out to -us his description of the place, proving that our researches on -Forest-Hill can make no pretensions to originality, though certainly he -could not boast of the advantages we derived from the illustrative -powers of our hostess. It was her idea that the house had originally -been a convent; and this notion, she said, receives force from the -lines:— - - “Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, - Sober, steadfast, and demure,” etc— - -imagery, which, in her opinion, could only be suggested by the -associations of the spot. Many a worse theory in literature has been -built upon foundations quite as slender; and so without committing -ourselves to this interpretation, but with many thanks for the hint, and -for all her civility, we respectfully bade adieu to the house, and its -respectable occupants, with all necessary apologies for our intrusion. - -Next morning, when I met Sir C—— at breakfast, he startled me by -throwing upon the table two accurate and beautiful drawings of the well -and mansion at Forest-Hill. He had produced them from the little -sketches which I had seen him take upon the spot; and as they must have -been made either very late at night, or very early in the morning, they -were pleasing proofs of his kind disposition to gratify and oblige me, -by the gift of a memorial of our Miltonian day, that must long afford me -the additional pleasure of renewing its associations with him. In a few -hours I bade farewell to Cuddesdon; but it so turned out that some of -the acquaintances there formed, were subsequently renewed in other -places, and in travel on the Continent. Nor can I forbear to mention -with gratitude, that the kind attentions of the Bishop to his guest, so -far from ceasing when I had taken leave, were continued through the -whole period of my sojourn in England, and frequently opened to me -unexpected sources of benefit and enjoyment. - -But I must not conclude without observing, with reference to -Forest-Hill, that Sir William Jones declares its groves to have been -long famous for nightingales; while, at the same time, by distinctly -recognizing the “distant mountains that seem to support the clouds,” as -part of the view to be gained from the summit of the hill, he has done -much to identify the spot as indeed the true scene of the poems. It is -allowed that nothing like mountains are to be seen from Horton; but Sir -William fully justifies the allusion, as suited to Forest-Hill, while at -the same time he removes all ground for the hackneyed complaint, that -this reference to mountains is a blemish to the poem, as being wholly -unwarranted by the character of English scenery. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - - _Oxford—New College—Magdalen._ - - -Now came my first day in Oxford—a day depended upon from boyhood, and -from which I had expected more quiet and meditative delight than from -any other enjoyment whatever. To every one who has made English -literature and English history a study, I need not explain why. But -Oxford has not only a literary _prestige_: it is so intimately connected -with the history of our holy religion, that all other associations -receive, as it were, an unction from this. Every college has its -history; every stone, and every tree, and every turf, suggest ennobling -reflections, as memorials of departed worth, but the hallowed memory of -Martyrs sheds over all a deep and sober glory, that awes while it -inspires. I know that our age has seen men, aye, and Oxford men, who -could sneer at the reverend names of Cranmer, and Latimer, and Ridley: -but who that has a heart not absolutely dead to generous emotion, but -must feel a warm re-action in view of such impotent malignity? Who, in -the days of the apostate and the dupe, can go to Oxford without blessing -God that other days have left us the blessed example of men faithful -unto death, and triumphing in the fire? - -I stopped at “The Angel,” but it was not long before I found myself -hospitably taken up, and transported to the house of a friend in the -Turl, next door to Exeter College. My kind entertainer was one widely -known throughout Anglo-Saxondom, not only by the books which he -publishes, but by those also which he writes: and to whose elementary -works on architecture we, in America, are indebted for about all that is -popularly known of that beautiful art and science. As it was now -vacation, I had an opportunity of seeing Oxford first, as it were, in -scene, without the _dramatis personæ_; and no one is more capable than -my kind host, of explaining the antiquarian and architectural glories of -Oxford to a stranger. As he courteously gave me his valuable time, I -made my primary rounds under his guidance. - -As I came into Oxford, from Cuddesdon, I heard the bells of St. Mary’s -in full peal, and experienced an exhilarating emotion that greatly -heightened my impressions. After my arrival in the Turl—a name which -indicates that the street was once a country-lane, guarded by a -_turn-stile_—I took my second walk through the city, my first having -been on the previous Sunday, passing from St. Ebbe’s to Wadham College, -with the Bishop. Now, beginning with New College and the glories of -William of Wykeham, I felt a new impulse of wonder and admiration, as if -the half had not been told me. In vain does the pedant complain of the -architecture here displaying the genius of that munificent founder, and -tell us that it marks a decline from the elevation of the decorated -period; for who can but see, in what is called decline, something much -more like an elaborate adaptation of sacred art to academic purposes, -exhibiting high invention, and a sense of the fitting and appropriate, -which proves a taste truly refined, and a fancy rich and creative? So, -at least, it strikes me; and the moral element is not less observable, -the very stones seeming vital and instinct with the designer’s great -soul and spirit. Thus the gateways, as has been well remarked, exhibit -strength and utility, with little to advertise what is within; the -domestic part is simple, and chaste and homelike; the hall bespeaks a -generous hospitality, and suggests the social and civilizing character -with which religion invests the table and the meal, and elevates it to a -feast of reason; while, at last, the chapel is full of divine majesty, -and commands abasement of self in the house of God, and at the gate of -heaven. Wykeham was, for his day, a reformer, as really as Wyckliffe, -and nothing is more certain than that the true Anglican alone has a -right to glory in his achievements. They mark a period of contest with -the papacy, every step of which contributed to the ultimate liberation -of the Church of England from its Italian yoke, and they were perfected -in that English spirit, against which the Pope was always at war, and -which late apostates from our Nicene faith detest and anathematize as -schism. True it is that we differ with Wykeham and Waynefleet in many -items of opinion and practice, in which they were no wiser than their -times; but they are one with us, historically, in the communion of the -Church of England, in the maintenance of her individuality and -independence, and in the confession of the Nicene Creed, as the -authorized symbol of Christendom. These impressions, forced upon me -within these walls, and growing on me every day that I spent in England, -returned with ten-fold power after I had seen the Continent, and again -beheld English Churches and colleges, and felt their essential -antagonism to what is Italian and Tridentine, and their almost physical -tendency towards the production of such a Church, in their ultimate -result, as the Anglican Communion is at this day, and is likely to be in -future. Let us depend upon it, and act upon it, as a fact in the -providence and design of God, that the Church of England, from the first -day she was planted until now, has been, as it were, “the Church in the -wilderness;” retaining always a primitive and individual element, and -preparing for eventual manifestation in the pure glory of the Bride, the -great adversary of the harlot, with whose painted front and virago fury -she now patiently contends. - -Although the modern parts of the College are conspicuous from the -gardens, I found in them a fascination which I can hardly account for or -describe. The ancient city walls, with their bastions and defences, are -still preserved as the boundaries of the premises, and possibly it is to -them, with their embowering verdure and isolating effect, that one owes -a feeling of enchanting seclusion and quietude. Here my trans-Atlantic -eyes first beheld the loop-holes and embrasures of mediæval -fortification; first grasped the idea of intramural siege, and -bow-and-arrow fight! It struck me overwhelmingly with a sense of loss -and mental injury, that I should have known only faintly, and from -books, what thus the Oxford student receives in passive impressions of -reality—the ennobling idea of our connections with the past, and its -paternal relations to us. To see every day the walls on which one’s -forefathers, ages ago, patrolled in armor, or from which they aimed the -cross-bow; to walk and study and repose habitually under their shadow; -to have always, in sport and in toil, in sorrow and in joy, such -monuments of time and history about one: how ought it not to refine and -mature the character; and make a man feel his place between two -eternities; and inspire him to live well the short and evil day in -which, if ever, what he does for futurity must be done quickly, and with -might! - -But now, somehow or other, we emerged into “The Slipe,” where one gets a -fine external view of old wall, chapel and tower. But I was impatient to -see Magdalen College, and Addison’s Walk, and thither we bent our way. -Passing under its new and beautiful gateway, I stood before that -effective grouping of architectural detail which makes up the western -front. Here are tower, turret and portal, chapel, lodge, and -non-descript doorway; here are great window, and oriel, and all sorts of -windows besides; and trees and vines lending grace to all; and here is -that queer little hanging pulpit, for out-door preaching, which, with -all the rest, always made Magdalen, to my boyish taste, the very Oxford -of Oxford. And I am not sure that this notion was a wrong one; for now -that my ideal has received the corrections of experiment, what college -shall I prefer to Magdalen? Perfect and entire is Wadham, where, in the -warden’s lodge, I first broke academic bread; lordly is Christ Church, -with its walks and its quadrangles; lovely is Merton, as it were the -sister of Christ Church, and gracefully dependent; New College is -majestic; All Souls worthy of princes: but Magdalen alone is all that is -the charm of others, compendious in itself; yielding only a little to -each rival in particulars, but in the whole excelling them all. - -In Addison’s walk I gave myself up to delightful recollections of the -Spectator, and marvelled not that the thorough-bred Englishman of that -bewitching collection, was the product, in part, of such a spot as this! -Here that great refiner of our language breathed the sentiment of his -country, and nourished the spirit that knew how to appreciate her, and -how to transfuse the love of her into others. I defy the most stupid -visitor to feel nothing of enthusiasm here! I made the circuit of the -meadow, surveyed the bridge over the Cherwell, took a view of -Merton-fields and Christ Church meadows; and, after meeting with the -late Vice-President, Dr. Bloxam, and encountering in him a cordiality of -reception which I can never forget, concluded by attending prayers in -the chapel. I was placed in a stall, and had as favorable a position, -for sight and sound, as I could have desired. The service was sung -throughout—although, as it was now vacation, comparatively few were in -attendance besides the singers themselves. I observed that here, as in -other college-chapels, the chapel itself is the choir of a cruciform -Church, the ante-chapel is the transept, and the nave is wanting. Add -the nave, that is, and you have a cathedral, or minster, complete. In -the ante-chapel of Magdalen, there are always persons devoutly following -the service; and although they can see nothing, they hear it with very -sweet effect, the chaunt being softened by their separation from the -singers, while it is articulate and altogether devotional. - -Magdalen became my home in Oxford, for there I more frequently walked, -and worshipped, and visited than elsewhere—and there, for a time, I was -lodged; while in its grounds I became a frequent and familiar guest; -taking, in grateful confidence, the repeated invitations which I -received from Dr. Bloxam and other members of the College, although -obliged to decline far more of their kindness than I could possibly -accept. During this first visit I dined in the Hall, meeting a number of -eminent members of the University, and greatly enjoying their -conversation. This superb Hall is lined with portraits of the -distinguished sons of Magdalen. As I sat at meat, Addison’s portrait was -just before me, and at the end of the Hall was the portrait of one whom -I am accustomed to reverence even more, as the pattern of the true -Anglican pastor, the pure and holy Hammond. All around hung the -venerable pictures of great and historical personages, who have -illustrated their college in becoming illustrious themselves. Among such -worthies, none can forget Bishop Horne, who, although he died in 1792, -was the immediate predecessor in the presidency of Dr. Routh, the -present incumbent, now very nearly a hundred years of age. This -venerable and extraordinary man is, indeed, as was often said to -me—“the greatest wonder of Oxford.” - -But how many are the sources of delight in this august University! Even -the meanest are not unworthy of note. At dinner, in the Hall, for -example, I remarked, that the queer old mug from which I was drinking, -was the gift to the College of “Robert Greville, second son of Lord -Brooke;” and when we adjourned to the common-room, for fruit and -conversation, the traditions of the spot, which were recounted, were all -of historical interest. In this very room, that sturdy champion of his -College, Bishop Hough, by boldly resisting the Commissioners of the -Popish James, with their three troops of horse at the door, paved the -way for the Revolution of 1688; and yet no College in Oxford was so much -distinguished for its subsequent loyalty to the house of Stuart as -Magdalen—following, in this, the example of Bishop Ken and the -non-jurors, who liked the usurpation of William quite as little as the -oppression of James. A Jacobite goblet was put into my hand, bearing the -inscription _Jus suum cuique_, which admirably apologizes for the -position of the College, in both these historical issues; while, on the -other side, is the legend, to which I gave emphatic utterance, as I -drank—_Vivat Magdalena!_ After an hour in the common-room, we returned -to the Hall, where the choristers were rehearsing the anthem for the -next service, and where I heard not a little sweet singing during the -evening. The fire was brightly blazing in its chimneys; and the light -and shade of the vast apartment, with its pictures reflecting the -playful glare from painted armor, or robes of lawn, and academic -scarlet, to say nothing of the visages of ancient worthies clad in such -array, very much heightened the effect of the scene. - -Before returning to London, besides making a general survey of the city, -I became somewhat more particularly acquainted with Christ Church, its -hall, and common-room: and with its chapel, which is the cathedral. In -Oriel College, also, I passed some pleasant moments, and drank of the -College beer, from an old traditional cup of the time of Edward Second. -I also worshipped at St. Mary’s, and did the same at St. Thomas’s, a -picturesque and venerable fabric in the outskirts of the city, near the -site of Oseney Abbey. Here the late restorations were very fine; and, -although it is a parochial Church only, the service was sung. I observed -a somewhat excessive external devotion on the part of a few of the -worshippers, which struck me unfavorably; but, perhaps, in times of less -dubious allegiance to the Church, I should not have noticed it as -peculiarly pharisaical. I paid a visit to the Bodleian and the Picture -Gallery, and inspected the architecture of “the Schools;” and, finally, -saw some ceremonies in the Convocation House, which were very well worth -seeing, as illustrating the academic system of Oxford. Several -masters-of-arts were made, the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Plumptre, presiding, -in his scarlet robes; but all was done with an entire absence of pomp, -and in presence of very few spectators. I was the more surprised, as -this was the first day of Easter-term; and, from the general peal from -towers and steeples, one might have supposed it a great day. Even the -ceremony of admitting the new proctors, and the Latin speech of one of -them going out, seemed hardly to have any interest for the academics, or -others. The Heads of Houses were assisting, and looked well; and, when -all was over, there was a procession, the Vice-Chancellor going in -state, solemnly preceded by the bedels, with their maces—profanely -called _pokers_ by the undergraduates. There was, however, no strut, but -rather the contrary. You saw, at a glance, that all this was the -mechanical routine of the University, done as business; and so regarded -by every body concerned. It is only when men are _acting_ that they -become sublimely ridiculous. - -This remark applies to the May-morning celebration, on top of the Tower -of Magdalen. To read of it, one would think it must be a romantic, or -enthusiastic, piece of absurdity: but done, as a matter of course, and -in continuity, year after year, from ancient times, it has, on the spot, -a very different effect. The custom dates from 1501, the first year of -the 16th century, when, in gratitude for a royal benefaction from Henry -VII., a Hymn to the Holy Trinity, with the Collect of Trinity Sunday, -and other solemnities, were instituted as a commemoration, to be -celebrated on the first day of May. The produce of two acres of land, -part of the royal gift, was at the same time to be distributed between -the President and fellows. It now goes to pay for an entertainment -supplied to the choristers, in the College-hall, at which a silver -grace-cup is passed around with great formality. The boys have a -complete holiday, moreover, and from sunrise to sunset are set free from -College-bounds; but it must be understood that the boys here spoken of -are those of the school and choir—not the undergraduates, of whom there -are precious few at Magdalen—which is not an educational establishment, -but a society of educated men, devoted to academic pursuits. But I -suppose I need not explain the difference between such Colleges and our -own, now so generally understood. To remedy what is considered by the -progress-men a crying evil, and to turn the splendid revenues of -Magdalen to the largest benefit of the largest number, is one of the -professed purposes of the late Royal Commission: but, unfortunately, no -confidence can be placed in its professions. Were the thing in the hands -of true Churchmen, and relieved from the tinkering of Lord John Russell, -there can be no doubt that a competent and moderate University reform -might vastly augment the resources of the Anglican Communion, and -furnish a noble and safe expansion to her missionary and colonization -enterprises. The Lord hasten such a genuine improvement, and deliver the -University from the rash and presumptuous hands of political capitalists -and adventurers! - -I was premonished by one of _the Dons_, that there would be very little -danger of over-sleeping on a May-morning in Oxford, for that an old -remnant of Druidical times still flourishes unrestrained among the lads -of the town. This is nothing less than the blowing of all sorts of -dissonant horns, about the streets, in honor of the British Flora, from -the earliest peep of May-day; as if to remind every body of the shame of -sleeping when nature is displaying her fairest and most fragrant charms. -Awakened, then, by the promised croaking, up I rose, and repaired to the -College, towards which the whole tide of early-risers was setting. Here, -those who are not admitted to the Tower, station themselves in the -street below, or line the bridge of the Cherwell, awaiting the aerial -music. As I slowly wound my way to the top of the tower, I caught -beautiful views through its loop-holes, and breathed occasional puffs of -delicious air. On the summit were gathered almost as many gownsmen, and -others, as half the place would hold: the other half was railed off for -the singers—men and boys, in their surplices and caps, with sheets of -music in their hands. The view of the surrounding country, towards -Forest-hill and Cuddesdon, or round by Nuneham and Stanton Harcourt, to -Woodstock, was exceedingly lovely—and, of course, the more so, for the -inspiration of the hour. As the clocks of Oxford chimed the hour of -five, every head was reverently uncovered—and, while the morning sun -made all the landscape glitter, forth broke the sweet music of the old -Latin hymn:— - - “Te Deum patrem colimus, - Te laudibus prosequimur: - Qui corpus cibo reficis, - Cœlesti mentem gratia.” - -Alas! it was too soon over; for while it lasted, looking up into the -blue heavens, one could almost imagine himself amid the clouds, and -surrounded by the melodies of the heavenly host. As soon as it was done, -the bells beneath us began their chorus, and the tower fairly rocked and -reeled. After lingering for a time, to survey the effects of a bright -morning on the domes and spires of the University, and on the aged trees -of Christ-Church meadows and the windings of the river, I descended to -the walks, and there passed an hour, sauntering about, as it were, in -the very foot-prints of Addison and Bishop Horne. The bells discoursed -their music for a full hour; the rooks chattered, and made holiday in -the tree-tops; the sweet-briar and rose perfumed the cloisters; the deer -bounded across the College park; and wherever I went, or wherever my eye -rested, I saw nothing to remind me that this world is a wretched and -work-day world, and that England is full of misery and sin. For a time, -rhyme seemed reason, and fancy fact. In the enchantment of that -delightful May-morning, one might be forgiven for loving life and being -fain to see many such good days. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - - _The Crystal Palace—Opening, etc._ - - -Having frankly confessed my prejudices against the Great Exhibition, I -must now as frankly own that I am ashamed of them. The whole thing was -indeed strongly marked by the spirit of the age, and was, therefore, -such as no one who sees and understands the faults of our own times can -enthusiastically admire. Yet, little by little, I saw so much in it -which illustrates the better elements of that spirit, and which is -capable of being directed to noble results in behalf of the whole family -of man, that, to some degree, I rejoice in the complete success of that -splendid experiment. I was nicely punished for my folly at the outset, -in losing the pageant of the opening, of which I took no pains to be a -spectator, until it was quite too late to obtain admittance. If I lost -any thing, however, I suffered in good company. I am astonished, at this -time, to remember the indifference of many Englishmen, in different -ranks of society, to the entire project, until its success was -demonstrated. From _The Times_, which was a great grumbler at first, and -from old _Blackwood_, which railed at the _Temple of Folly_, down to the -shopkeepers in Regent-street, there was a wide-spread feeling of -contempt for Prince Albert’s hobby, as likely to cost more than it would -come to: while sincere apprehensions were entertained that something -revolutionary and bloody might be the result of the collection of vast -bodies of men, with a large proportion of foreign republicans among -them, into the bosom of the Metropolis. How idle all this seems now! At -the time, I am sure, very few were satisfied that it was altogether -idle; and I fancy the Queen and Prince Albert themselves wished the -thing well over, for some time before it was fairly inaugurated. - -I went into Oxfordshire without making any plans to see the show, and -remained over the morning of the first of May, to hear the hymn on the -Tower of Magdalen. This was the day of the opening of the Palace, and -accordingly I immediately hastened to London, to see how it would end. -Riot and murder were the very least of evil results predicted by some, -and our American press had anticipated nothing less than general pillage -and insurrection. On arriving in London, I found that if I had only -secured my ticket beforehand, I might have been at the show, as well as -at the Oxford solemnity; for it was yet early in the day. Immense masses -of men were pouring into Hyde Park, as I drove down the Edgeware road, -and the crowd and crush of vehicles was not less surprising. It was with -difficulty that I made my way through Piccadilly, especially as my cab -emerged into the vicinity of Hyde-Park-corner. The police were -everywhere on duty, but there was no mob, properly speaking, to require -their interference. Thousands of the humbler classes, men, women and -children, in their best clothes, were endeavouring to enjoy the holiday, -and get a sight of the Queen. That was all, at this hour—and so it -continued through the day. Towards noon, the crowd in the Park grew -oppressive, and the slightest accident might have bred a confusion, in -which life would have been sacrificed; but there was absolutely nothing -but good-natured pushing and thrusting, and the occasional squall of an -infant, whose mother was more engaged to save her tawdry finery, than to -secure the safety of her child. - -Finding myself one of the people, I resolved to enjoy a nobody’s share -of the sight-seeing. Some English friends whom I found in the same -predicament, and who assured me I had lost nothing worth a guinea to -see, volunteered to accompany me into the Park, where they thought it -not unlikely the most exciting scenes of the day would come off. So -then, we elbowed and pushed our progress into the Park, and were elbowed -and pushed in return quite as much as we cared to be. At last, it became -impossible to fight it out three abreast, and we agreed to “divide and -conquer.” The last I saw of my friends, one was here and the other -there, amid a crowd of hats and faces swaying about, with exclamations -and entreaties in behalf of coats and shins, and toes, and umbrellas. We -looked laughing adieus, and saw each other no more. At length I found -myself in the line of the Queen’s procession, and hired a convenient -standing-place to see her progress to the Palace. On she came at last, -preceded by those superb horse-guards, who dashed magnificently through -the crowd, and were themselves the finest military spectacle I had ever -beheld. Several of the Court carriages followed, one containing the -Crown-Prince of Prussia; and then came the Queen’s, distinguished by -many horses, coachmen, and footmen; the coach itself glittering with -gold; the horses splendidly caparisoned; and the servants in showy -liveries, with powdered hair, cocked-hats, and immense nosegays thrust -into their bosoms. The cockneys, however, had expected to see the -coronation coach, and were accordingly much disappointed with this -modicum of show. Then followed more horse-guards, kicking up the gravel -into the faces of the plebeians, and sinking, with their haunches to the -earth, as their riders spurred them into proud prancings and -curvettings, as if to intimate that the very beasts knew they were -attending the Sovereign of many Empires to a festival of all nations. -Whew! how they dashed along! and soon a discharge of artillery announced -her arrival at the Palace; nor was it long before another discharge of -the guns proclaimed the ceremony concluded, and the Great Exhibition -opened. Everybody looked happy and contented; and everybody, with wife -and children in the bargain, appeared to be on the spot. - -As the royal carriage passed, I observed the Queen to be apparently -uneasy, and apprehensive. The glass was up, and she was giving herself -that constant motion which was Louis Philippe’s art of safety on like -occasions. Without any distrust of her people, she may have remembered -the attempt of the madman, Oxford, and she knew that any similar -desperado must have a better chance of success on a day like this. I saw -the little princes, and the royal head, therefore, to great -disadvantage; but fortune favored me with a fuller satisfaction on their -return. While everybody was pressing towards the Crystal Palace, I now -turned against the tide, and gradually extricating myself from the Park, -passed down Constitution Hill, and finally arrived at Buckingham Palace -just in time to get a full view. The crowd here was very light, and I -saw everything to great advantage. The Queen was evidently in high -spirits, the glass down, and she bowing most maternally. I was within a -few feet of her, and lifted my hat in homage to the broad, good-humoured -smile with which she seemed to regard her enthusiastic subjects. The -grand-daughter of George the Third looks exceedingly like her venerable -ancestor, and a glance suggested to me what must have been his -appearance in his younger days. Her features are by no means unfeminine, -though far from delicate; she was a little flushed, and hence less fair -than she is painted; but her exhilaration at the happy conclusion of her -morning, gave an attractiveness to her expression which she lacked when -I afterwards saw her, on more splendid occasions, languid with the -routine of a drawing-room at St. James’s, and sick enough, I dare say, -of its heartlessness and formality. After the Queen passed into her -residence, I supposed the pageant ended, but shortly after there arose a -shout, which convinced me I was mistaken. I turned, and saw her -exhibiting herself to the people in the balcony of the palace, in the -centre of a very splendid group, and with the little Prince of Wales, -and the Princess Royal, at her side. The Princess Alice, the Crown -Prince of Prussia, and the Duchess of Sutherland, were in the splendid -circle, but the Prince Consort I did not discover. The shouts of the -people were not so vociferous as I should have anticipated; and the -royal party soon withdrew. I afterwards learned that this was a novel -proceeding, and was meant by her Majesty as an act of most gracious and -particular condescension. I trust my republican interest in the -spectacle was none the worse, however, for being wholly unsuspicious of -the gratitude with which it should have been mingled. I looked not -without reverence, at the Sovereign Lady, and not without solemn -thoughts of futurity at her lovely little family of children. But the -influence of my country was so far upon me, that I never conceived at -the time, that her Majesty was doing more than might have been expected -of her, in honour of her loyal and most decorous people. - -To Americans in London the Crystal Palace soon became a sore subject. We -were the laughing-stock of nations; and I confess, when I first visited -the vast desert at the American end of the show, in which many of the -articles exhibited were even worse than the lack of others which ought -to have been there, I felt myself disposed, for a minute, to blush for -my country. It would have been the very poverty of patriotism to plead -that a few items of our contribution were of very great merit; and -self-respect would not permit me to multiply apologies, or even -explanations. What was really good spoke for itself. What was bad, or -indifferent, was simply inexcusable. The fact is, our progress in the -arts of civilization was not at all represented; and after observing the -things which attracted attention, from other countries, I felt sorry -that nobody had thought of making similar exhibitions for us. It really -pained me to reflect, that I had seen much more attractive exhibitions -in our provincial towns; and I was quite sure that one day’s work, in -each of our great cities, might have sufficed to collect a far better -show of industrial produce out of the ordinary market. Fortunately, the -yacht “America” came in at the last moment to “pluck up our drowning -honour by the locks;” and if we could but stop bragging about it, that -would be enough, until some future occasion may afford us an opportunity -of showing what American mechanics and manufacturers are able to achieve -in their various departments of skill and ingenuity. - -I was pained to observe the feeling engendered by the Exhibition between -England and America, and by the highly-irritated recriminations of -ill-bred representatives of both countries, on the spot. On the other -hand, I was sometimes amused by the ludicrous attempts of some -well-meaning Englishman to be complimentary. He would choke out -something about the “Greek Slave,” and then pass rapidly to speak of his -delight in meeting with a model of Niagara Falls: an execrable thing, -which only served still further to confuse the unusually mudded ideas of -that prodigy of Nature, entertained by the English generally. As it was -simply an immense map of the Niagara, it of course represented the Falls -on such a scale as entirely deprived them of sublimity and beauty: and -so, when the speaker would enlarge upon the magnificence of this feature -of our country, I usually took some satisfaction in confessing that the -better half of the Falls is, after all, on the British side, and that I -was sorry he could find nothing to praise that was entirely ours. The -only instance in which I encountered rudeness upon this subject, was an -absurd one, in a railway carriage, when a Paisley manufacturer, a little -the worse for whiskey, and very rich in his brogue, after some impudent -remarks, which led me to decline conversation, stuck his face into mine, -with the startling announcement—“_ye can’t mak’ shawls in your -country!_” - -On my first visit to the Exhibition, I must own that my prejudices were -utterly dispelled. The meagre effect of the exterior was forgotten in -the enchantment of the view within. It was a high-priced day, when rank -and fashion had the scene to itself. The place where the interest of the -whole was concentrated was that beneath the transept, commanding, as it -did, the entire view; and where the great trees, preserved within the -building, furnished a comparative measure of the whole. The crystal roof -showered a soft day-light over the immense interior; the trees and -curious plants gave it a cheerful and varied beauty; the eye bewildered -itself in a maze of striking objects of luxury and taste; musical -instruments, constantly playing, bewitched the ear, their tones -blending, from various distances and directions, in a kind of harmonious -discord; fountains were gurgling and scattering their spray, like -diamonds and pearls; and, amid all, moved the high-born beauty, and the -rank and pride of England, mixed with auxiliar representatives of -foreign states, but not unconscious of their own superiority, even while -they seemed to forget that they were insular, in their easy transition -through the pavilion, from England to France, and from France to -Austria, and from Austria to India and China. I thought of “the kingdoms -of the world and the glory of them:” did the vision which the Tempter -disclosed to the Man of Sorrows glitter more ravishingly than this? - -But others have written so well on this magnificent spectacle, that I -must not enlarge upon my own impressions. It grew upon me, to the last. -It was an encyclopædia, which I am glad to have consulted. It was, in -fact, a great piece of luck to a traveller. How much of Europe it showed -him in a day: how many leagues of travel it would have cost to have -gained the information, with respect to divers countries, which here -unfolded itself beneath one mighty roof! I am convinced, moreover, that -its influence, on the whole, was good. It was opened and dedicated by -prayer, and the blessing of the Primate; it was presided over by the -religious spirit of the British Empire; it illustrated the pacific and -domestic influences of a female reign; it furnished a striking proof of -the stability and self-reliance of the Government, as well as of the -tranquil prosperity of the state; it united many nations in a common and -friendly work; it furnished a touching but sublime commentary upon the -lot of man, to eat bread in the sweat of his brow, and it redeemed -itself from the spirit of that other Babel, upon the plains of Shinar, -by bearing, inscribed upon its catalogue, the text—“The earth is the -Lord’s, and all that therein is: the compass of the world, and they that -dwell therein.” - -On one of the days which admitted “the people,” I took my stand in a -corner of the quiet gallery, over the transept, and looked down on the -swarming hive with a meditative pleasure. England was there, city and -country, the boor and the shopkeeper, and all sorts and conditions of -men. The unspeakable wealth of nations stood secure, and glittered, -untouched, among them all. All men are brothers, indeed; and tears came -to my eyes as I surveyed those sons of toil gazing for a moment upon -luxury, and trying to extract a day’s satisfaction in beholding the -pomps and vanities which Providence helps them, so sternly, to renounce. -Each soul—worth infinitely more than all; and the purchase of the blood -that is beyond all price! Oh God, how solemn the theatre, in which such -a scene was presented to my eye; and what thoughts it gave me of glory -and of vanity, of human joys and sorrows; of the speedy day when all -that multitude shall have passed from a world as transient as the show -which then amused them; and of the day not very distant, when they, with -all nations, shall stand before the Son of Man! - -It is a good thing that the better counsel prevailed, and that the -Crystal Palace, when it had served its purpose, was taken utterly away. -It is now a thing of history, so far as Hyde-Park is concerned; and the -Transept Tree will long be its best memorial to surviving generations. -In this way its memory will have a moral value, till the end of time. A -bubble, like the world, it has glittered and vanished. An epitome of -nations and kingdoms, and manners and men, it has served its purpose, -and been removed by its imperial architects. Who can doubt that, in like -manner, when their noble ends are accomplished, the heavens shall be -folded up as a vesture; and “the great globe itself, with all which it -inherits,” shall forever pass away, according to His promise, who is -King of kings and Lord of lords? - -It would have been pity not to have seen poor _Jack-in-the-Green_, on a -May-day, in London; and yet I had quite forgotten the sweep, and his -right to a share in the festival, until I saw the sight itself, as I -chanced to be passing through one of the streets of the West-end. A -chimney of green things, it seemed to be; walking along, and nearly or -quite concealing the occupant, who gave it motion, while a crowd of boys -did honour to the show. The game seemed to consist, in pausing before -certain doors, and soliciting a gratuity. Certain it is, that no one can -grudge a penny to such an applicant, or behold the one day’s sport of -the poor climbing-boy, without wishing he may succeed in trying to make -the most of it. Lady M. W. Montague is said to have invented this -beneficial anniversary of sweepdom, and the moving obelisk of green -seemed to me no unmeet memorial of her benevolence. Better this, than -the column of the Place Vendôme, unless it be better to be remembered -for levying a world-wide tribute of blood and tears, than for giving one -new object of hope and joy to the children of sorrow! - -During the residue of the week I was engaged in the ordinary lionizing, -but met several agreeable persons in company, dining one day at the -Rectory of St. George’s East, and another day at Clapham. My first -impressions of the enormous extent of London were gained in passing -between these limits, and yet as vast a suburb lay unexplored beyond the -former, as I had travelled through to reach the latter. Clapham is -called four miles from the metropolis, but one reaches it, by omnibus, -with no very clear idea of having left London at all. And so, in every -direction, London seems interminable, and villages known to us from -books as highly rural, and as affording delightful retreats from the -city, are found, to our surprise, to be incorporated with the great -Babel itself, and that by no means as its extremities. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - - _St. James—Wellington—St. Paul’s._ - - -I had been invited by Dr. Wesley, Dean of the Chapel Royal of St. -James’s, to attend service there on Sunday morning. It was the Second -Sunday after Easter. The old clock above the palace gate-way pointed -eight o’clock as I entered the colour-court, and saw the flag of the -regiment on duty, drooping about its staff, inscribed with the names of -famous victories. All the region round about seemed to be fast bound in -slumber. It was the cool, quiet Sunday morning of smoky London, to which -only the most casual glimmer of sunlight gave any warm announcement of -the advancing day. How still it seemed! A solitary sentinel, in scarlet, -stood, six feet high, at the gate. “Service begun yet?” said I; and he -answered, mechanically, “yes, the Duke just gone in.” I passed on; -knocked at the door of the chapel; mentioned the Dean’s name as my -warrant, and was admitted. The beadle, in livery, showed me to a seat, -and after my devotions, I was able to look around. It was a plain place -of worship, and quite small; just large enough for the royal household, -none of whom, however, were now present, the Court being at Buckingham -Palace. The book in my seat was stamped with the royal initial of -William Fourth, and marked for some great officer of the household. -There was one seat between me and the pulpit, the seats running along -the wall, like stalls, and not as ordinary pews. The altar at the end of -the Church, beyond the pulpit, was the conspicuous object of course, and -the window above it—which one might hardly take for an altar-window in -the street-view—gave the chief light to the holy place. Was this the -same chapel in which Evelyn so often anxiously marked the behaviour of -Charles and the Duke of York, at the celebration of the Eucharist? The -place has been much changed, but I indulged the idea of its essential -sameness. On the altar were the usual candlesticks, and the glittering -gold plate of great size and massiveness, in the midst of which was -conspicuous the Offertory-basin, bearing the royal cypher of Queen Anne. -There was no one in the chapel but the beadle and—one other person, in -the seat next me, at my right. There, in a dim corner, directly under -the pulpit—quite crouchingly and drawn together, eyes shut, and white -head bowed down, Roman nose and iron features, and time-worn wrinkles, -all tranquilized—sat in silence the hero of Waterloo. He was in the -plainest morning dress of an English gentleman, frock-coat of blue, and -light trowsers. I scarcely looked at him, and yet gained, in a moment, -an impression of his entire person, which I shall never lose. -Occasionally I could not resist the temptation of a glance at the great -man, but who would venture to stare at the Duke of Wellington in such a -place, and at such a time? The Dean of the chapel entered, with another -clergyman, who was habited for the pulpit. A clerical personage, -attended by two ladies, at the same time, came in as I had done, and, -during the sermon, there were four other persons present. The Dean began -the Communion Service, which surprised me, as I had expected the usual -Morning Prayer. Was the Duke about to communicate? Was I to see him in -the most solemn act of our holy religion? Was I to kneel beside him to -receive the same cup of salvation and bread of life? It gave me solemn -thoughts of our common insignificance, in presence of Him whose majesty -filled the place, and on whose glorious Cross and Passion, I endeavoured -to fix all my thoughts. For ages in this chapel, sovereigns and princes -had literally brought gold and incense, (as they do still, annually, on -the Feast of the Epiphany,) and offered their vows unto the King of -kings; and now, there I knelt with the greatest human being on the -footstool; the first man of the first nation; the great man of the -greatest Empire on which the sun ever shone; a man of blood, of battles, -and of victories, coming as a worshipper of the Prince of Peace, to -crave salvation and receive its pledge! ‘And yet, a greater than Solomon -is here,’ said my inward thought, ‘and therefore let this impressive -moment be a foretaste of that terrible hour when the Judge of all the -earth shall sit upon his throne, and when all worldly glories must -shrink to nothingness before His Majesty.’ - -I could not but observe the Duke, at the saying of the Nicene Creed. As -usual, in England, he faced about to the East, and at the name of Jesus, -the great Captain of his salvation, he bowed down his hoar head full -low, as if he were indeed a soldier of the cross, and not ashamed to -confess the faith of Christ crucified. The Duke was certainly not as -eminent for sanctity as for his many other qualities; but who shall say -that his worship was that of the formalist, or that the secret of his -soul, which is with God, may not have presented to His eye the -contrition and the faith of a sinner “much forgiven!” Surely, the -splendours which seem so attractive to the superficial, must, long -since, have become burdensome to him; and few, so well as he, have been -able to confirm by experience the faithful witness of inspiration, that -“man at his best estate is altogether vanity.” - -The Dean is a grandson of the celebrated Charles Wesley, and I was -somewhat disappointed that he was not the preacher. The text, it seemed -to me, had been selected not without reference to the great person, -whose attendance at the chapel is sometimes solitary, and who having -entered on his eighty-third year on the preceding Thursday, might be -supposed to regard this Sunday as one of more than ordinary solemnity. -“_Though thy beginning was small, thy latter end shall greatly -increase_”—(Job viii:7)—such was the text, and the reverend preacher -dwelt on the approach of death, and spoke of “men covered with worldly -wealth and honours, making their end in remorse and misery.” If the -deafness of the Duke did not prevent his hearing, many parts of the -sermon must have affected him, but he retained the immoveable and drowsy -look of which I have spoken before, and sat close in his corner. The -residue of the service proceeded as usual; five persons, myself and the -beadle included, being the only persons present besides the officiating -clergy. The collection at the Offertory was duly made as in parish -churches, and at the proper time (the beadle opening the doors of our -pews) the altar was surrounded. Supposing that some etiquette might be -observed in such a place, I was very much pleased to find that the -contrary was the case; and that all present were expected to approach -the altar together. The Duke tottered up, just before me, and I knelt -down at his side, just where the beadle indicated my place. Of course I -had other things to think of at such a solemn moment, and I know nothing -of his deportment, at the sacrament, except that it seemed humble and -reverential. When all was over, and the Duke had retired, the Dean, who -had beckoned me to remain, for the consumption of the residue of the -sacrament, expressed great satisfaction at the presence of an American -clergyman, and spoke affectionately of our Church. He told me that the -Duke communicated thus regularly on the first Sunday of every month: and -I was glad, as I left the chapel, that I had been so happy as to see him -for the first time when engaged in such a duty. He is now gone to the -dread realities we there confessed; and there is something peculiarly -touching in the recollection of that morning at St. James’s, when that -cup of salvation, out of which kings and queens have, so often, drank -their weal or woe, passed from his lips to mine. It made me feel, at the -time, both out of place, and yet at home; for what had I to do in a -royal chapel, and in the company of the worldly great? and yet I was -there because it was my Father’s house, and because my right to the -children’s bread is the same as theirs, even the mercy which redeemed -all men’s souls at the same unspeakable price. - -When I next saw the Duke of Wellington, I had the honour of being -presented to him, and of observing his person and his manners more -narrowly, in a scene of private festivity. I saw him once again, and -that, too, was at St. James’s, amid all the splendours of the Court, -dressed in his military uniform, and glittering with decorations. Even -there he was the “observed of all observers,” and long will it be before -such another shall be seen amid its splendours, giving, rather than -receiving lustre, in the face of the throne itself. But to have seen the -old hero bowing at the throne of grace, and asking mercy as a miserable -sinner, through the precious blood-shedding of Jesus Christ, will often -be one of the things which I shall most pleasingly recall, when I see -some poor dying cottager, or tenant of a garret, taking into his hand, -with as good a right, the same cup of salvation. - -When I first came into the neighborhood of St. Paul’s, I was far more -impressed than I had expected to be with its dingy, but still sublime -exterior. With this Cathedral I had no very agreeable associations. -Erected during the first period of decline in correct taste and sound -theology, subsequent to the Rebellion, it naturally partakes of the cold -formality of the age, and is altogether as Anti-Anglican as pedantry and -an over-estimation of the classical in art could make it. It is in the -style of a Roman Basilica, rather than of an English Church, and is far -more suitable to Tridentine notions, than any Church in England erected -before the Reformation. Still, it is beautiful; I think exceedingly so: -and St. Peter’s, in the Vatican, is as inferior to this, in model, as -this is inferior to St. Peter’s in dimensions and internal magnificence. -I give my opinion boldly, for I feel sure that there can be no just room -for difference of opinion as to this matter. The more I saw of St. -Peter’s, the less was I satisfied with its ill-conceived and awkwardly -developed bulk; while every time I saw St. Paul’s, I found myself more -and more in love with its rich combinations of grace and majesty. How it -came to pass that Michael Angelo and his partners produced only a -magnificent monster, while Sir Christopher Wren came so near producing a -model of magnificence, it may be hard to tell; but though the latter has -its faults, no one can do less than admit, that if the immensity of St. -Peter’s embodied the same outline and proportions which are preserved in -St. Paul’s, the whole effect of the front, as you approach it between -the colonnades of Bernini, would be inconceivably better. St. Paul’s -unfortunately has no such approach; but its great dome looms before you, -as you begin to ascend Ludgate-hill, for all the world like a peak of -the Alps descried through the gorge of Gondo. When the promised -improvements are made in the neighborhood of the churchyard, and when a -better finish and composition of details are adopted at the eastern end, -or choir, of the cathedral, it may safely lay claim to the finest _coup -d’œil_ of its kind in Christendom. Its defects are notorious, but they -appear to me of minor importance; and the double portico, at the west -end, so mercilessly criticised by the mere grammarians of architecture, -strikes me as worthy of high commendation, as a happy license in the -poetry of the art, distinguishing a Christian Church from a heathen -temple. The Pantheon and Madeleine at Paris are doubtless more correct, -but they look—the one as if Voltaire and Rousseau might have ordered it -expressly for their Mausoleum, and the other as if Julian himself had -built it in grateful remembrance of his early friends, the Parisians. - -I leave my readers to imagine the sort of enthusiasm with which I first -sauntered about the purlieus of the cathedral, and inquired of my -guide-book the actual site of the old Paul’s Cross, and strove to -conjure up the images, thereto pertaining, by witness of the chronicler. -Alas! how much rather would I have seen the old Paul’s, which poor Laud -so munificently repaired in the ill taste of his day; and that old -pulpit, in which Richard Hooker wagged his venerable head, than all this -Italian and classical display of Wren’s! There is no relish of the past -in it: and it has little that is truly religious in its effect on the -mind. Yet as being St. Paul’s, one feels that a Greek and Roman -composition would not befit any other of the apostles, so well as it -does the one that was a Roman citizen, and the Doctor of the Gentiles. - -Going to St. Paul’s to morning service, on Sunday, the fourth of May, I -entered the south transept, and for the first time beheld its interior. -The effect of the immense vault of the dome, as it first struck my -sight, was overpowering—the more so, because at that moment, a single -burst of the organ, and the swell of an _Amen_ from the choir, where -service was already begun, filled the dome with reverberations, that -seemed to come upon me like thunder. I was so unprepared for anything -impressive in St. Paul’s, that I felt a sort of recoil, and the blood -flushed to my temples. I said to an American friend, who happened to be -with me—“after all, ’tis indeed sublime!” I now went forward with -highly excited expectations, and the voice of the clergyman intoning the -prayers, within the choir, increased my anxiety to be, at once, upon my -knees. I glanced at the monument of Howard, and entered beneath the -screen. The congregation seemed immense. A verger led us quite up to the -altar, and as he still found no place, conducted us out into the aisle, -where I passed the kneeling statue of Bishop Heber, with a trembling -emotion of love and admiration, and so was led about and put into a -stall, (inscribed, “Weldland,” with the legend, _Exaudi Domine -justitiam_,) where, kneeling down, I gave myself up to the solemn -worship of God. And solemn worship it was! I never, before or since, -heard any cathedral chaunting, whether in England or on the Continent, -that could be compared to it for effect. The clergyman who intoned the -Litany, knelt in the midst of the choir looking towards the altar. Even -now I seem to be hearing his full, rich voice, sonorously and -articulately, chaunting the suffrage—_by thy glorious Resurrection and -Ascension_—to which organ and singers gave response—_Good Lord deliver -us_—as with the voice of many waters. Then, as the next suffrage was -continued, the throbbings and echoes of this organ-blast supplied a sort -of under-current to its simple tone, at first pouring down from the dome -like the floods of Niagara, and then dying off along the distant nave -and aisles like mighty waves of the ocean. Tears gushed from my eyes, -and my heart swelled to my throat, as this overwhelming worship was -continued. It was all so entirely unexpected! Cold, cheerless, modern, -all but Hanoverian St. Paul’s—who dreamed of such a worship here! Yet -so it was; and I am sure, from subsequent experience, that it is capable -of being made a most attractive cathedral, and a very useful one. Knock -away that detestable screen, and put the organ in a better place; -confine the choir to the clergy, and compel all the canons, singers and -officials of every grade to be there; fit up the Altar end, and make it -new with a pictured window, in keeping with the architecture and -vastness of the place; subdue the light; set the pulpit at the head of -the nave, and let the entire Church be filled with worshippers and -hearers: and then, with a little decoration, and warm colouring to aid -the improved effect, we shall hear no more of the chilliness and poverty -of this august interior. It might be made a great Missionary Church for -the seamen and other laboring classes of the city and port of London; -while the aisles should furnish a succession of chapels, for services at -successive hours, and for Sunday schools, and catechizings. Church -Societies also, such as the S. P. G., might be allowed their chapels, in -which, before sailing, Missionaries might receive the Sacrament, or -offer thanks after arriving at home. One would think, moreover, that a -fitting use might be found for the great balcony, over the lower -portico, at the west-end, if only the Dean and Chapter would imitate the -May-morning hymn of Magdalen, and, in that public place, offer annual -prayers and thanksgivings to God, for the health, peace, and prosperity -of the vast Metropolis, to which they might make themselves the very -centre of spiritual life, by a little inventive effort, in the line of -useful and benevolent reform. Oh, for a besom and a reformer first, and -then for the line and plummet of the builder! - -Dean Milman appeared in the pulpit, and preached a well-written sermon -(from Acts xvii. 26,) with evident reference to the influx of divers -nations at the inauguration of the Great Exhibition. But the Apostle, -for whom the cathedral is named, would have preached very differently, I -am persuaded, to the assembled Gentiles. In the congregation, I -discovered many foreign faces, and recognized, (by the familiar tokens -of angular features, goat-locks under the chin, and collars turned -down,) not a few of the more inquisitive and irreverent class of our own -countrymen, who seemed to think the rhetorical powers of the worthy Dean -altogether inferior to those of the stump, the camp-meeting, and the -Tabernacle in Broadway. I must allow that, if such were their -impressions, they are not much to blame. The editor of Gibbon, and of -Horace, has other claims to our respect, and richly deserves an eminent -station in the Academy, or in schools of Taste and Art; but the -orthodoxy of a Hooker, and the zeal of a Whitefield, are the better -qualifications for such a post as the Deanery of St. Paul’s ought to be. -Even a little enthusiasm might be excused in cathedral preaching, as -vastly preferable to the frigid decorum of a style and manner quite too -rigidly harmonious with the Corinthian and classical details of the -surrounding architecture. - -The same day I attended Evening Service at St. Barnabas’, Pimlico, of -which everybody has heard something. At this time Mr. Bennett had ceased -to be the incumbent, and I was informed that the less defensible -practices of this Church had been discontinued, in obedience to the -injunctions of the Bishop. I cannot say I saw anything that need have -given great offence, in ordinary times and circumstances: but I saw not -a little which, in the time of apostacies and scandals, would more -inevitably scandalize the weaker brethren, than would many far more -serious sins against charity and brotherly kindness. Had these things -been other than absolutely indifferent in themselves, or had they been -less seemingly imitative of some ceremonies foreign to our primitive -Catholicity, one might have said, at any rate, that they were quite as -tolerable as the corresponding ultraisms of the opposing extreme in the -Church. I certainly tried to feel both charity and fraternal sympathy -for the brethren of St. Barnabas’, for I had heard them well-reported of -for many good works. Yet, my impressions were not altogether favorable. -On the whole, the effect was that of formalism beyond anything I ever -saw in our Communion. The architecture was somewhat too highly charged -with mediævalism for reformed Anglican worship, but would be not less -inappropriate, in several particulars, to modern Romanism. It was -antiquarian, rather than practical in any respect. The service seemed to -be performed in the same æsthetic and almost histrionic spirit, even -where the rubric was strictly complied with. One could not say just what -was inexcusable, and yet felt that little was done unto edifying. The -evil seemed to be that its _good_ was made to be _evil spoken of_, by -the excessive and unnatural, if not unreal way in which it was -exhibited. Good there was, undoubtedly, in the original idea of this -Church, and one scruples to impeach the motive of such displays of zeal -for the glory of God: but we have the positive rule of St. Paul, given -by precept and example, that everything beyond what is the ordinance and -custom of the Church, is to be subordinated to the great work of -evangelizing men compassed with infirmities, and who oppose to the -Gospel the divers prejudices of the Gentile and the Jew. I am very much -afraid the contrary is the rule at St. Barnabas’. After the Evening -Service, the congregation was dismissed without a Sermon. Although the -assembly was far from large, and however true it may be that prayers are -better than preaching, in certain circumstances, I certainly felt that a -few words of exhortation might have added a spirit of reality to the -solemnities, and could not have seemed out of place on the Lord’s Day, -even at Evening Service. Still it is but just to say that the services -are so arranged, in this church, as to secure an average both of -teaching and worship, much greater than is usual elsewhere. With all -this, why cannot a _bonâ fide_ English air of earnestness be given to -the whole thing? Let us have a _living_ ceremonial, at least, and a real -one. The reading which I heard was not English reading: if the preaching -be of the same sort, no wonder the people consider the whole a mere -imitation of foreign performances. An external standard, and not the -spirit of the English rubric, appears to be before the eyes of the -ministers; just as a similar standard, and not the law, seems to have -guided Dr. Lushington in his late decision against them. Strange that -while his judgment demolishes furniture to which nothing but bigotry can -object, he leaves the brazen doors of the chancel, which are repugnant -to common sense, as they almost conceal the altar. - -Later in the evening, I attended St. George’s, Hanover-Square, the -Church so distinguished for marriages in high-life, and for a -fashionable _prestige_ altogether. Here one sees _Hanover_ indeed! The -names of its successive Churchwardens are emblazoned on the galleries, -and I observed that they were generally those of noblemen and gentry. -Fashion was much too prominent. A young and well-looking preacher, in -Episcopal robes, appeared in the pulpit, and discoursed articulately, -and with some spirit, (on Rev. xxii. 17,) though not remarkably in other -respects. This was the new Bishop of Nova Scotia, who has since entered -into the labors of his missionary field with great diligence and -success. - -I had attended four distinct services in divers parts of the Metropolis -this day, and I was informed that I might easily have attended as many -more. Very different hours are kept in different parishes; and it is not -unusual for one, two, or even three Morning Services to be celebrated in -the same Church, to accommodate different classes of worshippers. Such -is one fruit of the awakened vitality of the Church of England. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - - _Rambles—The Tower._ - - -In Paternoster-Row I cruised about, and came to Amen Corner quite too -soon for satisfaction. I strove also to understand the precise bounds of -Little Britain, as I plodded therein, and bethought me of its right -worshipful reputation for books and men of letters in olden times. In -Cheapside, I could see nothing but John Gilpin and his family, till I -came to Bow Church, and, by good luck, heard a full peal of the very -bells that make cockneys, and that whilom made poor Whittington o’ the -Cat a Lord Mayor. What they were ringing for did not appear, as the -Church was shut. So I fared on through the Poultry and Corn-hill, paying -due deference to the Royal Exchange, till on a sudden, by some odd -crooks and twistings through the very ventricles of this heart of the -Metropolis, I came before the Tower. It gave me a thrill of emotion to -see it before me: and ‘here is Tower-Hill,’ said I—‘here stood the -scaffold—and I am sure these walls must have been the last things seen, -before they closed their eyes forever, by Strafford, and by Laud, and by -so many before and after.’ And these the towers of Caesar, and their -history the history of England almost ever since his conquest! - -The Church of All-Hallows, Barking, happened to stand open, much to my -satisfaction, as I was threading a very narrow and old-fashioned street -near the Tower; and I entered, with a thrill of emotion, to behold the -venerable interior, where the service for the burial of the dead was -read over the bleeding corpse of Archbishop Laud, as it was brought in -just after the axe had made him a martyr, and here temporarily interred. -I remembered that Southey remarks that the Prayer-Book itself seemed to -share in his funeral, for on the same day, the Parliament made it a -crime to use it in any solemnity whatever: and I endeavored to recall -the scene of desolation which must then have smitten to the heart any -true son of the Church of England who was its spectator, beholding, as -he did, the Primate of all England going down into the sepulchre, as the -last, apparently, of his dignity and order; the Church herself beheaded, -if not destroyed, with him; and the Prayer-Book reading its own burial! -Thank God, there I stood, two hundred years later, a living witness of -the resurrection of that Church and its ritual, and of its powerful -life, in the new world of the West. I trust I did not offer a vain -thanksgiving upon the spot. I then looked at the old tombs and brasses, -which are interesting, if not fine. Here kneel a worshipful old knight -and his dame, with their nine or ten children, demurely cut in -alabaster, upon the common tomb of the parents; and there is a brass, -said to be Flemish, commemorating another pair, who were laid to rest -the same year that saw Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More beheaded and -interred in this same Church. Here, too, is some fine carving; and some -of the pews have curious adornings, in token of their being the place -for magistrates and high parochial functionaries, of divers degrees. -Surely, no one should fail to see this Church when he visits the Tower. - -And now I turned towards that old historic pile, repeating, as it rose -upon my sight, those striking lines of Gray’s— - - “Ye Towers of Julius, London’s lasting shame, - With many a foul and midnight murder fed!” - -Its very foundations were laid in blood, if so be, indeed, as the old -chronicler asserts, “its mortar was tempered with the blood of beasts;” -and for long ages it has never slaked its thirst for the blood of human -beings, till now, in the halcyon days of Victoria, it stands a lonely -monument of those barbarian elements, out of which has risen the nobler -fabric of British freedom. Nor should it be forgotten, that popular -violence as well as princely tyranny, has glutted the spot with murder. -Of the many worthies whom we must remember here, none were more grossly -butchered than Laud and Strafford, the victims of a ravening fanaticism; -unless we except those gentler sufferers, whose sex and spotless -innocence leave their murderers without even the appearance of excuse. A -cold chill fell upon me as I entered the fatal precincts, thinking how -many had passed the same gates never to return. If there be a haunted -spot in all the world, it should be this Tower; and, indeed, strange -stories are on credible record, which might well assist the fancy in -conceiving that the ghosts of its old tenants, of the fouler sort, do -sometimes revisit the scene of their dark and dreadful deaths. - -The red-liveried yeomen, in the costume of the guards of Edward VI., -receive you as you enter the gate beneath its old portcullis, and these -are themselves no poor auxiliaries to your efforts at reproducing the -past. One of them (they are popularly known as _beef-eaters_) conducts -you to the Armory and Jewel-room forthwith, it being taken for granted -that you have come to see these things particularly. Imagine yourself, -then, passing through an immense outer-wall, in the circuit of which are -set, like sentinels, the several inferior citadels, known as the Bloody -Tower, the Beauchamp Tower, and the like. You gain the open court, or -area, and in the centre rises the immense quadrangular and turreted -mass, which overhangs this part of London: it is the Keep, or White -Tower, called also Cæsar’s, though built by William the Norman. You pass -the Bloody Tower, in which the young princes were smothered by the -hunch-back Richard, and are shown into the Armory. Here you see, amid -all sorts of bristling weapons, the sovereigns of England, from Edward -I. to James II., all on horseback, and most of them in the armour of -their times. The growth and decline of knightly harness is thus -exhibited entire, from the “twisted mail” of Edward’s hauberk, down to -the merely ornamental breast-plate of the recreant Stuart. What a -procession! Some of the visors are down, and others are lifted—but to -an imaginative eye, every figure appears instinct with vitality. Their -very steeds, in their plated steel and ancient housings, seem clothed -with thunder. Elizabeth, of course, retains her own fantastic costume, -but there she sits before you, in spite of her peacock display, a -glorious memorial of Tilbury, and you can fancy her prancing before her -troops, and inspiring them to repel the “foul scorn” of the Armada. That -very suit of armour, now stuffed with the resemblance of her father, was -once worn by bluff old Hal himself; and further on, is the beautiful -array of steel, in which the goodly limbs of the Royal Martyr were once -actually encased. Nor are the heroes of this august Valhalla without -other trophies of their times and achievements. Here are bills, pikes -and partizans, Lochaber-axes and glaives, broadswords and stilettoes; -and then all manner of fire-arms, from the earliest and heaviest -matchlock down through all the grades of muskets, to musketoons, -pistols, and pistolets. And then there are saw-shot, and bar-shot, and -spike-shot, and star-shot; and then culverins and petards; and weapons -offensive and defensive of all sorts and kinds. And they bear marks of -having been well used in their day. Here the wars of the Roses have -battered a helmet and pierced a shield: through that hole in the -corslet, once spouted the rich blood of a hero at Tewksbury: that visor -was rusted by the last sigh of another such as Marmion, on -Flodden-field. Even this bludgeon of a staff, with pistols at the -handle, has dealt midnight blows in the hands of the British Blue-beard, -as he patrolled the streets of his capital, in the spirit of Haroun Al -Raschid, somewhat heightened by the spirit of wine. - -I was not above looking curiously and thoughtfully at the exhibition of -Popery, displayed in the relics of the Armada. At the Crystal Palace -there was a very bold and enticing parade of the modern instruments of -this Protean enthusiasm, in the shape of candlesticks and monstrances, -thuribles and pyxes, and all sorts of embroideries, spangles, laces, and -millinery. By such things it would convert England now. In Elizabeth’s -day, its missionaries were less attractive. Bilboes, collars, -thumb-screws, and iron cravats; stocks, fetters, and manacles; a sort of -portable Inquisition was, in short, the great reliance of the Pope in -those times, for the reduction of the heretic English: and here, no -doubt, old Fuller would go on to say, that “if forsooth we should feel -closely about the fine things of even modern Poperie, we might, -perchance, find a prickly point, or a sharp edge, or a rough chain, if -not faggots and gun-powder also, stowed away among all their fancy -stuffes and petticoats.” I could not satisfy myself with looking at -these antiquarian treasures however, nor shall I attempt to satisfy my -reader by detailing them. Let him think how he would feel to touch the -very axe that divided the little fair neck of Anne Boleyn, and the -stiffer sinews of the Earl of Essex. Even the block on which old Lovat -laid his worthless head, loaded with crimes as many as his hoary hairs, -gives one a shudder, though no man pitied him when he fell. It is, -moreover, a monument of interest, because there the axe stayed, and has -never since been lifted on the head of a British subject. He died in -1746, in the cause of the young Pretender; and possibly this fact -suggested to me the thought, (by which alone I can convey any just idea -of this Armory,) that the whole exhibition seems to be a complete -property-room of the Waverley novels. If the characters of those -successive tales could have deposited in one room the antiquarian -implements and costumes to which they gave a sort of resurrection, they -would have furnished us with very much such a collection as that of this -Armory of the Tower. - -A new stone strong room has been built for the Royal Jewels, and one now -sees the Regalia by day-light. It is a glittering show; but nothing -seems to be very ancient in the collection, except the spoon wherewith -anointing oil has been poured on all the royal heads that have been -crowned since the days of Edward the Confessor. How many Archbishops -have held its handle; how many princes have been touched with its bowl! -At the bare thought, all the history of England seemed to rise before my -sight, and I felt that there is a value in such symbols of a Nation’s -continuous existence. When displayed, not as gewgaws of a vulgar pomp, -but as the memorials of a fruitful antiquity, they cannot but inspire a -sentiment of veneration in every beholder, and serve to keep alive the -vestal flame of loyalty and love for a throne which is invested, indeed, -with traditional splendours, but which rests on the surer foundations of -existing freedom and righteous law. - -When I stood again in the open court, I longed to be told nothing so -much as where the old Archbishop was confined, when he gave Strafford -that parting benediction. It had been arranged by Usher, their common -friend, that they should thus take leave of one another. The noble -Strafford came forth walking to the scaffold on Tower-hill, but craved -permission to do his last observance to his friend. For a moment he -feared the old primate had forgotten him, but just then he appeared at -the dismal window of his own prison. “My Lord—your prayers and your -blessing”—said Strafford, kneeling down: and the benediction was given -accordingly; after which the primate swooned in a fit of sorrow, while -the stout Earl rising, said, “God protect your innocence,” and then -stepped onward with a military bearing, and passed to his execution, as -if it were to a triumph. Somewhere here, all this went on! I could -almost fancy it before my eye. Then, too, I thought of Raleigh. And -here, hard by, was the undoubted spot, within the walls, where stood the -scaffold on which suffered the Queens Anne Boleyn and Katharine Howard; -and Lady Jane Gray, more lovely and more innocent than either. But it -was not the thing to be looking at such a spot in broad daylight. How -much I should have been pleased with the privilege of lodging, just one -night in the White Tower, not to sleep, but to stand at my window and -look out upon the Court, and upon Tower-hill, by pale moonlight, and -so—to think, and think, and think! - -By dint of perseverance, I gained admission to the Beauchamp Tower, -occupied at present by some officers as a mess-room. The apartments are -covered with carvings and inscriptions, the work of many illustrious -prisoners, in past times, and with some that merely tell of human -sorrow, mysteriously, and without the name of any one that is known, to -satisfy the curiosity they excite. A rich carving, in which figures the -well-known _bear and ragged staff_, reveals the prison thoughts of -Dudley, Earl of Warwick, father-in-law to the Lady Jane. There is -another inscription, very naturally ascribed to poor Lord Guilford -Dudley—the simple letters IANE. His sweet Jane was soon to breathe her -farewells to him from her own lonely cell, and, after seeing his -bleeding corpse brought in from the scaffold, to follow him to the -block. The initials R. D. betray the work of another Dudley, who lived -to be the favorite of Elizabeth, and the dismal husband of Amy Robsart. -Here figure also memorials of Henry’s victims, and of the Marian -Confessors, and not a few of those who suffered under the last of the -Tudors. Underneath these rooms is the “rats’ dungeon,” where many have -suffered the extreme of human agony; and directly overhead is “the -doleful prison” of Anne Boleyn. Remorseless, indeed, must have been the -heart of her husband, if in truth she sent him the letter, said to have -been endited there, and if, after reading it, he could still abandon to -the block the head that had so often reclined in his bosom. - -I was resolved not to leave these awful precincts until I had also -visited the Church of _St. Peter ad Vincula_, the burial-place of so -many of those whom I had thus endeavored to recall to mind. After some -patience and perseverance I was admitted, and stood upon what a clever -writer has justly called one of the saddest spots on earth. So many -graves, of so many destroyed worthies, are here gathered together, that -one necessarily thinks, as he stands by them, of the day of judgment. -What a resurrection there will be in this place at that day—a -resurrection of the just and the unjust! The Church is sadly disfigured, -and should be reverently restored, but its pointed arches and mural -monuments, with kneeling figures, and one rich altar-tomb, with -effigies, still elevate the interior above an ordinary effect. Near this -tomb repose the bodies of the weak Kilmarnock and the sturdy Balmerino; -and upon my saying something about them to the sexton, he told me that, -in digging lately, he had come to the relics of their coffins. He then -lifted a cushion in one of the seats, and showed me the coffin-plates, -which he had taken from the earth. Sure enough, there they were, quite -legible, inscribed with their names and titles, and the sad date, 1746. -I remembered how I had read in a contemporary number of “The Gentleman’s -Magazine,” and in Horace Walpole’s gossip, the contrary impressions made -upon these Jacobites by the scene in which they were to suffer. -Kilmarnock acted pitiably, for his conscience was alive to his sin and -folly; but Balmerino was troubled with very little of a conscience -whatever, and what he had was such as to persuade him that he was dying -in a good cause. The old hero cried “God save King James,” to the last; -and, striding up to his coffin, put on his glasses, and read this very -inscription, and said it was all right. Now, I was reading it fresh from -the earth, after a hundred years had gone by. It greatly moved me. Then, -I thought of Laud hobbling into this chapel, lame and feeble, leaning on -his servant, but standing up amid the people, while the preacher railed -at him; said preacher wearing his gown over a buff jerkin, as the -holder, at the same time, of a parochial benefice in Essex, and the -captaincy of a troop of horse in the rebel army! But where did memories -begin or end, when I tried to collect them in such a place? Here lies, -beneath the altar, the daring Duke of Monmouth, hacked and hewed to -death by his awkward headsman; and, not less barbarously murdered, here -lies that venerable lady, the last of the Plantagenets. Cromwell lies -there, for helping Henry Bluebeard; and there, too, More and Fisher, for -resisting him; Anne Boleyn and Lord Rochford lie there, for being -innocent; and Katherine Howard and lady Rochford, for being guilty. Two -Dukes are buried between the two Queens; and there Lord Guilford Dudley -once more reposes with his lovely Lady Jane. Here lies brother slain by -brother, the slayer sharing, in his turn, the fate of the slain; and -these, with Monmouth, mercilessly condemned by his uncle, and the two -Queens murdered by their own husband, seem to accomplish the melancholy -record with associations of crime the most complicate, and of -accountability the most dreadful that can well be imagined. Oh, God! -what reckonings yet to be settled by Thee alone, are laid up against -that day, even in the little compass of these walls. - -I made a parting circuit to survey the Bloody Tower and its -sharp-toothed portcullis—the only one in England that still rises and -falls in a gate-way, and refuses not its office; the Bowyer’s Tower, in -which poor Clarence was drowned in Malmsey; the Brick Tower, said to -have been the prison of Lady Jane Grey; and the Salt Tower, which, with -its adjoining wall, I found nearly demolished, and in process of -restoration. Finally, I went round upon the water-side and surveyed the -Traitor’s Gate, so called. Here, then, are the jaws of this devouring -monster, sated at last, apparently; but who knows? Under that arch have -passed, one after another, those great historic characters, whose names -we have already reviewed. They abandoned hope when they entered here; -and almost always with good reason. One alone on whom, in youthful -sorrow, and by a sister’s cruel injunction, these massive gates yawned -and closed, became, in turn, their mistress; and—alas! for human -nature—made them often gape for others. Think of Elizabeth Tudor -passing under this arch, the captive of the Bloody Mary! Who then could -have foreseen the days of Hooker, and of Burleigh, and of Shakspeare? -Think of old Laud in his barge, day after day, returning through this -arch from his trial, to his prison, exhausted and panting like a hart -pierced by the archers, from the cruel shafts of Prynne and his -confederates, but accompanied, perhaps, by his noble defender, Sir -Matthew Hale. Oh! could he but have seen the Anglican Church of the -nineteenth century, how thin would have seemed the clouds which were -gathering around her at that awful period, and which he feared, no -doubt, were to overwhelm her forever. Such were some of the thoughts, -partly sad, but largely grateful, with which I found myself chained to -the place; and even when it was time to go, still disposed to linger -about the spot, and bend musingly above the Traitors’ Gate of the Tower. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - - _Two Nights in the House of Commons._ - - -As soon as I could devote an evening to the purpose, I made my first -visit to the House of Commons, going at a very early hour in the -afternoon, and sitting through the whole till after midnight. This -House, since removed to the new Palace, then held its sessions in what -was formerly the House of Lords, said to be the scene of all the -historic events which have illustrated that body for ages, down to the -reign of William Fourth. It was fitted up for the Commons after the fire -of 1834, which destroyed St. Stephen’s Chapel. It was, first of all, the -hall of Edward Confessor’s Palace; was subsequently the scene of a -fierce passage in the life of Cœur-de-Lion; and also of that romantic -incident which Shakspeare makes the first scene in his Richard Second. -There Bacon presided, and was impeached, and fell. Lord Chatham’s -expiring effort was made there; and there he thundered those noble -remonstrances against the American war, in which our own history is so -intimately concerned. Its fitting-up, however, for the temporary use of -the Commons, gave it a very modern appearance, and it was as plain as -can well be imagined. Before I returned to America, its interior had -been pulled to pieces, and the materials sold under the hammer. I saw -it, therefore, in the Omega of its legislative uses, centuries having -expired since its Alpha. Mr. Lawrence, our worthy Ambassador, had kindly -supplied me with a ticket, which admitted the bearer to the diplomatic -benches. These are on the floor of the House, and are only separated -from those of the members by a nominal division; so that, in fact, I -found myself surrounded by them. At first the House was thin, and it -grew thinner towards seven o’clock; but at about nine o’clock it began -to fill again, the members returning from their dinners, most of them in -full dress. The earlier hours were consumed in dull and unimportant -matters, and business seemed to drag on like the daylight, till the -place began to be as stupid as it was dark and gloomy; when suddenly the -Speaker touched a bell, and a flood of soft light was showered from the -ceiling, not a lamp or burner being visible. This mode of illumination -was quite new to me, although I have heard of similar effects produced -in the same way in America. It seemed to quicken and cheer up -everything, till the Speaker left his place suddenly, (for refreshments, -it was said,) and then all stood still, the members yawning and lounging -about, and talking in a very undignified manner. When the Speaker -returned, business seemed to have begun. A message was received from the -House of Lords, with the usual formalities; but, I observed that as the -messenger backed out, making his three bows, he stumbled, and excited a -laugh, at which he also laughed, and then retired, winking and -exchanging grimaces with sundry acquaintances, as much as to say—who -cares. He was dressed in wig and gown, and was probably one of the -clerks of the Lords; and he was attended in the Commons by the -Sergeant-at-Arms, who was dressed in court-costume, and during the -ceremony carried the Mace on his shoulder. The sight of “that bauble” -revived the recollection of scenes in the House of Commons of a very -different character. - -The great business of the evening was a debate on the Malt-tax, which -brought out all the strength of the House, and enabled the opposition to -talk “Protection,” with a show of very great sympathy for the distresses -of “the British farmer.” Mr. Disraeli made a great speech, in his way; -but it is a very poor way, his whole manner being declamatory and -sophomorical in the extreme. I had met him several times as I sauntered -through Pall Mall, and looked in vain for any traces in his face and -manner of the clever author of Coningsby and its successors. A jaunty -and rather flashy young man, with black ringlets, twisted about a face -quite devoid of elevated expression—such was the impression he gave me -in the open air, and in the House of Commons I saw nothing at variance -with it. He is certainly a man of parts, but that such as he should have -forced his way to the Leadership of the House of Commons, only proves -the extreme mediocrity of this generation. That he is a Jew is a great -bar to his advancement, although he is a Jewish Christian. He affects, -however, to be very proud of his _Oriental_ origin, and perhaps he may -be so; but one feels that he cannot be confided in, and that he is a -mere adventurer. He seemed to me to ape Sir Robert Peel, in his way of -thrusting his arm behind the skirts of the coat, and exposing the whole -waistcoat in a flaring manner. I have heard as good talking at a -debating club as he treated us to that night in the House of Commons. -Still he made some good hits at Ministers, and was often interrupted by -cries of _hear, hear, hear_, which are rather muttered than vociferated -around the benches. He has since been Chancellor of the Exchequer, -himself adopting the very policy which he then abused in terms the most -noisy and passionate. - -Ministers were, of course, not slow in replying, and I had a chance of -beholding some of the expiring grimaces of Lord John Russell, whose -feeble government was just ready to fall to pieces of itself. I knew the -man as soon as I saw him in the House. There he sat, under a hat that -seemed to extinguish his features, trying to laugh and look -good-natured. At last he rose, and I observed that the familiar -caricatures of _Punch_ were in fact good likenesses. He is his own -caricature. A diminutive utterer of “great, swelling words;” paltry, and -yet pompous; and altogether as insignificant a person as I ever saw -dressed in brief authority. He had only a few plain things to say, and -yet he contrived to utter them, as if he were saying—“I am Sir Oracle.” -Cries of _divide_ had circulated pretty freely during the whole debate, -and now I saw a division. A personage who had been very polite to me -during the evening, volunteered to put me where I might see the whole -process. Just before the division, members came running in from the -clubs, and the “whipper-in” returned to his seat, having discharged his -duty in securing the attendance of votes for the Government. Members had -been pairing off the whole time, apparently to attend a ball or the -Opera, as the pairs were nearly always in full dress. Their negotiations -seemed to be made near the bar of the House, and the Speaker was -constantly silencing the buzz of members and spectators, by the cry of -“order—order,” or “order at the bar,” which Mr. Shaw Lefevre knows how -to speak most potently. At length for the division, the galleries were -cleared at the sound of certain bells, which the Speaker appeared to -pull; but my kind Mentor clapped me into a sort of lobby, like a closet, -in the door of which was a pane of glass, through which I saw the entire -performance at my ease, and quite by myself. Less fortunate visitors -were entirely ejected, and then the members themselves went into the -lobby, and so passed in again, their names being pricked by the tellers -as they passed, and the whole operation taking but a few minutes. The -Ministry had a handsome majority. Before the House rose that evening, -there was another division; and it so happened that I heard most of the -men of mark. Sir Charles Wood, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Hume and -Bright, the amusing Colonel Sibthorp, and the Milesian Reynolds, all -talked, and some of them several times. Mr. Keogh excited the -significant cry of _oh, oh_, with laughter, and made some sport by -rejoining, “the gentlemen may cry _oh_, but still it is true.” An -allusion to the Scottish Universities brought Sir Robert Inglis to his -feet, and he said a few pertinent words, in a manner worthy of himself -as the best specimen in the House of a true English gentleman of the old -school. Mr. Sidney Herbert spoke in a handsome manner, and Mr. Gladstone -also made a very spicy little speech, which seemed to annoy his -opponents not a little. The House sat till two o’clock, but I finally -gave it up, and left before the end. As I came out into Old Palace Yard, -and saw the towers of the Abbey in the still solemnity of the night, it -seemed more strikingly majestic than before. I thought what mighty -interests of Empires had been settled here, and how often Chatham, Fox, -Pitt and Canning, had emerged at midnight from such scenes as I had just -left, looking on the same towers, beneath which they now moulder in the -dust. The sombre mass of the Abbey seemed a commentary on the hot -debates from which I was retiring; a speaking monitor of the transient -interests of the present, and of the eternal issues of futurity, as well -as of the unchangeableness of the past. - -As I walked slowly to my lodgings, I passed Whitehall. Scarce any one -was in the street, and all was silence. I stopped, and gazed on the -white walls of the Banqueting-room, and said to myself, ‘how strange! -here I am alone on this most memorable spot, in the deep and solemn -night. Can it be that here, where all is now so quiet, there stood two -hundred years ago a crowd of human beings, every one of whom was -experiencing, at the moment, emotions the most singularly mixed and -tumultuous that ever agitated the human soul? Can it be that from this -same white wall issued the figure of King Charles, and that there—just -there—he knelt at the block, and in a moment was a headless corpse? -Even so! Here rose that groan of a mighty multitude, sighing as one man, -and there the ghastly headsman stood, holding up the royal head by its -anointed locks, and crying—_this_ _is the head of a traitor!_’ I almost -turned about to see whether Cromwell’s troopers were not charging down -upon me, so strong was the impression of the spot; but just then, the -sight of a solitary policeman, patrolling beneath a gas-lamp, recalled -me to myself, and I fared thoughtfully, by the statue at Charing-Cross, -towards my temporary home. - -The Papal aggression was still, in spite of the Crystal Palace and its -wonders, an absorbing topic, and my second visit to the House of Commons -had been set for an evening when a debate upon that exciting subject was -to be part of the entertainment. I felt sure that such an evening in the -House would be, in some measure, an historical one, and might be useful -to me through life, in watching the course of religious and political -events. Besides, I wanted to hear a debate that should enable me to -compare, by its unity of subject, a Parliament of Victoria, with those -of the Plantagenets and Tudors. I had my desire. - -It seems impossible for the American mind to appreciate rightly the very -grave injury which has been done to the British nation by the attempt of -the Papal Court to erect Episcopal Sees, and bestow corresponding titles -within the jurisdiction of the British Church, and under the shadow of -the British Crown. But when it is considered that the Pope has thus -attempted to exercise a power to which he could never have aspired even -when England wore his yoke, and which would not now be suffered by any -Popish sovereignty in Europe; when, to say nothing of the outrage to the -Church of England, the direct attempt upon the allegiance of subjects is -considered, and its bearings upon the future are duly weighed: no -well-informed mind can hesitate a moment as to the propriety of the -feelings which it so generally inflamed, or retain any other -astonishment, than a profound one, at the feebleness and utter -imbecility of the measures with which the advisers of the greatest -Sovereign in existence have allowed her to meet the invasion. It was not -a moment for hesitation, or for consulting economics; a demand should -have been made upon the Pontiff for an immediate alteration of his -attitude towards England, and the least attempt to palter on his part -should have been responded to by a British fleet off Civita Vecchia. If -France was an obstacle to such a demonstration, and if “the peace of -Europe” must be kept at all hazards,—even the hazard of a speedy -Armageddon to pay for it—if such be the England of 1850—alas for the -extinction of the England of 1588! Is the spirit of Elizabeth past -revival? - -Since 1830, the whigs, laboring, as Mr. Macaulay now confesses, under a -delusion as to the ameliorated spirit of the Papacy, have gradually -advanced the Romanists to great power and influence. They had introduced -them to parliaments; had flattered them with ecclesiastical titles; and -unavailingly tried to propitiate them with gifts. Finally, hoping to -secure the Pope’s aid in the management of Ireland, they had advanced, -step by step, to a point from which they could not recede, and at which -they ventured to go further, and actually invite him to the daring -encroachment, which to their horror and amazement, set all England in a -blaze. At every step of this infamous and foolish compromise with Rome, -true Churchmen had protested, and pleaded, and struggled in vain; but -these true men were now confounded in the disgrace of an alarming -apostacy, owing to a popular misapprehension, and it was easy to turn -the whole fury of the fire upon them. Lord John, detected in the very -act of inviting the Pope’s attempt, had the cunning to point at them, -and lay it on the “Tractarians.” The trick succeeded: the Romanizers -were gratified, for they wished well to any but the friends of a Church -which they meant to abandon and destroy; the Evangelicals swelled the -outcry, which brought popular gales to their own canvass; and the -Ministry chuckled behind their fingers. The Romanists were triumphant, -since they had the Ministry in their power; and the only real sufferers -by all the tumult and indignation thus aroused, were the very class who -alone had contested every inch of ground with Popery and the Whigs, from -the “Emancipation” of 1829, to its sequel and direct consequence, the -“Aggression,” twenty years afterwards! - -Such was the very just review of the existing question, which in -different ways was brought before the House on the evening of the ninth -of May, 1851. The debate was on a motion of Mr. Urquhart, to the effect -that “the act of the Pope had been encouraged by the conduct and -declarations of her Majesty’s Government; and that large expectations of -remedy had been stimulated by Lord John’s letter to the Bishop of -Durham, which his measures had entirely disappointed.” The member -pressed his resolution (offered as an amendment to the proposed bill) by -a reference to the history at which we have glanced, and by calling to -mind some former passages in the political life of the Prime Minister, -which it could scarcely have been comfortable for him to hear just at -that moment. Sir George Grey, in a very feeble speech, replied in behalf -of his friend, from the Treasury bench, and amused himself at some -length, at the expense of Mr. Urquhart, without really affecting his -argument. Lord John Manners retorted with not a little force, at least -in his matter. He declared the proposed amendment a mere truism, and yet -one of practical utility. Lord John had successfully thrown dust in the -eyes of the people. Lord Powis and Mr. Dudley Perceval had in vain -endeavored to place the facts before the country. Then followed a -passage of pungency and truth. “The Prime Minister,” he said, “had twice -encouraged the acts against which his puny and delusive legislation was -now directed; had twice defeated the modest attempt of the Church of -England to place Bishops of her own in the great towns now occupied by -the Pope; had granted to Popish Bishops, in all the Colonies, precedence -over Anglican Bishops; had yielded similar favors to the Romish -titularies in Ireland; had pertinaciously resisted the fair demands of -the Irish Church for Scriptural Education; and yet—after a public -policy which had been one unvaried monotone of insult and wrong to the -Church of England—had contrived, by one magic stroke of the pen, to -place himself before the country as the champion of English -Protestantism, and as the only effectual antagonist of the encroachments -of the Church of Rome.” A Romish member now rose, and, while opposing -the amendment, paid a singular tribute to its truth. “He was not the man -to blame the noble Lord for encouraging the Pope’s measures; but he -blamed him for now attempting to contend with the direct consequences of -his own flattering policy.” After a rambling and incoherent speech, of -tiresome length, from a Mr. Stanford, who supported the amendment, Sir -Robert Inglis rose and opposed it with characteristic dignity, and with -that grave and sober earnestness which, under the manifest control of -taste and judgment, seems always uppermost in all his utterances. He -showed that, if the amendment were passed, it would defeat the bill. -However true, therefore, he must oppose it, because the bill was all -that the Government had offered to do, and something must be done. He -had no objection to calling on the Government to do more; he thought -that Lord John might fairly be asked to meet, in full, the expectations -he had excited; but he could not vote for an amendment which would -effectually prevent the doing of anything to carry out the just wishes -of the country. - -Sir Robert, during his remarks, dropped an expression, for the first -time, if I am not mistaken, which soon became familiar. He spoke of the -opposition of the _Irish Brigade_, referring to the Romish members then -sitting, and voting together, with an appearance of complete drill, and -of absolute obedience to one command. The expression was repeated as a -quotation by another member, and raised a laugh, as something freshly -caught up, and this seemed to mark it as a hit. Finally, Mr. Reynolds, -the apparent leader of the Brigade, gave it complete success by replying -to it. Sir Robert, after quietly delivering his remarks, had walked -round from his seat, and was conversing with a friend, (while he twirled -in his hand a rose, that he had taken from his button-hole,) when Mr. -Reynolds stepped into his place, with a sort of bog-trotting movement, -and facetiously remarked that, it might seem strange to see him -standing, as it were, in the shoes of the venerable baronet, who had -just called him and his countrymen, “the Irish Brigade.” He then -acknowledged that they were banded together against the bill, and -“against every other, good or bad, which its author might propose.” He -thus avowed their purpose, to throw their entire force against the -Government, until Lord John should be driven out of power. He then went -on with Irish volubility, and the no less characteristic accent of the -Patlander, to belabor Lord John’s bill. He told not a little truth: -called it “_sham_ legislation;” stuck out his finger towards the -Minister, and said, “If ye pass it, ye dare not put it into execution.” -Here, however, he gave it the praise of being quite the thing for its -purpose—“a cruel and persecuting measure—which, as such, had received -the approbation of _the Protestant watchdog of Oxford University_.” By -this epithet, significant of high fidelity, but not intended to be -particularly respectful, he gave Sir Robert a Rowland for his Oliver. - -The residue of this gentleman’s speech was amusing enough, as coming -from a Papist. He was for liberty of conscience; couldn’t bear to think -of religious persecution; and, as for the Queen, she had no subjects in -the world that could compare with her Irish subjects, for the devoted -affection with which they regarded her. One would think it a pity that -such homage as he professed for a heretic sovereign, had not been as -fashionable among his co-religionists in the days of Guido Fawkes, or of -the Spanish Armada. - -At last, Lord John himself rose to reply. I thought of the history of -the house of Bedford, from the back-stairs of Henry VIII., when, as -Burke expresses it, “the lion having gorged his share of the -Ecclesiastical carcase, flung the offal to his jackal,” down to the -council-chamber of Victoria, where the jackal still waits on the lion, -in the shape of this insatiable devourer of the Church’s bread, and not -less insatiable thirster for her blood. How should he dare lift up his -voice to apologize for the brand of infamy which this evening’s debate -had stamped upon his career as a Minister, or rather which it merely -showed to have been already set by his own hands! Forth he stepped, like -himself alone, and with the same pomposity to which I have already -adverted, went through a few incantations, which ended in a fresh -transformation of the diminutive conjurer before us, into a most earnest -“deviser of securities for the crown and the nation.” He called the -opposition “mean and shabby”—for such courtesies seem to be the seven -locks of a rhetorical Samson, in his conception—and with a front of -brass, only equalled by the audacity of his imputations upon true sons -of the Church of England, declared “there had been nothing in the -conduct of the Government which had a tendency to provoke the -aggression.” He sat down, in his littleness, and was instantly pounced -upon by Disraeli, from the opposite side of the table, as it were by a -hungry terrier. “Is it a fact,” then, said he, “or is it not, that the -First Minister of the Crown has himself in this House expressed an -opinion, that _he saw no harm in Romish Bishops assuming territorial -titles in this realm of England_? Is it a fact, or is it not, in the -recollection of this House, and in the burning memory of this country? -Is it a fact, or is it not, that a Secretary of State, in another place, -has expressed his hope that Romish Bishops would soon take seats as -Peers of Parliament in the House of Lords? Is it a fact, or is it not, -that a member of the Cabinet has been sent as Plenipotentiary to Italy, -and held frequent and encouraging conversations with the Pope? Is it a -fact, or is it not, that the Pope condescended to intimate to said -Ambassador his gracious purposes to do something _that might affect -England_; and is it a fact, or is it not, that the Plenipotentiary -thought it unnecessary to inquire what it might be?” - -Lord John here rallied, and interrupted the speaker, by saying that “he -had admitted the fact of a _report that the Pope said so_, but had also -stated that Lord Minto denied having heard it.” Thus terrier seemed to -have rat in his fangs, but rat could still show his teeth to terrier. It -was the first impeachment to which he had ventured any reply; and, by -replying to this, he convicted himself of the more grave charges, which -he was obliged to hear in silence, with his hat slouched down over his -criminal features. Who can feel any respect for an English patrician, -caught in such a felony, and proved as truly a moral delinquent, on a -gigantic scale, as ever a petty thief at the Old Bailey on a small one? -Oh! for a conscience in mankind to save their sympathy for the poor -wretch in the bail-dock, and to consign to merited infamy the titled and -decorated offender, whose crime is unfaithful stewardship in the State, -and treason to the Crown Imperial of the Most High God! I have no -abstract prejudice against a peerage. For my own country only do I -deprecate the idea of an aristocracy; but what are patricians worth, if -they cannot present to the State, in which they are an organic part, a -high and wholesome example of integrity and honour? In my heart, -therefore, as I looked at this scion of the house of Bedford in his -moral degradation, I felt—would that he might know the unaffected pity -with which a republican looks at him from this gallery, as a man, in -this great crisis of history, false to his rank, false to his sovereign, -false to his country, and false to his Redeemer. - -Mr. Disraeli paid no attention to his disclaimers, but, as it were, -buffeted him smartly with another hit—“Is it a fact, or is it not, that -the Vice-Royalty of Ireland was in indirect communication with the Pope, -and expressed affection for his person, and reverence for his -character?” This brought out enthusiastic cheers; and Lord John tried to -emerge from beneath his hat, to look contemptuous. Ministers had a small -majority. But Lord John must have felt that his time was coming, while, -no doubt, Mr. Disraeli began to draw as near in fancy, to the envied -bench on which he sat so little at ease. The latter had done decidedly -better than when I heard him before; but, when the division was taken, I -could not but say to myself—is this all that England’s Senators have to -say in such a matter? I felt that there were few of them alive to the -importance of the thing in hand; and that no one seemed equal to the -support of old England in consistency with herself. Was this, indeed, -the Senate in which Burke had uttered his voice? Was it the hall in -which Chatham had rescued from the last disgrace the honour of his -country? And were there to be no words, like his—burning words—living -words—immortal words—to prove forever that England took not her shame -in abject submission! At least no such words were spoken. There was not -even a John of Gaunt there, to bewail the disgrace of “the dear, dear -isle,” - - “Dear for her reputation through the world;” - -and, notwithstanding the eminent exceptions to the remark, I said to -myself, as I left the House after midnight—I seem to have been hearing -only a “debate in the Senate of Lilliput.” - -It seemed strange, before I sat at breakfast, early next morning, to -take up the _Times_, and read, in four or five columns, a very tolerable -report of the whole proceedings, and many of the words which seemed, -even then, to have scarcely ceased to sound in my ear. I cannot but add -the remark, that it is a great pity the amendment, which I had heard -debated, failed to pass. It would have loaded Lord John with the full -consequences of his own conduct, and it would have saved England from -the degradation of enacting a law, devised as a mere expedient, and -which affords to the enemy the darling satisfaction of defying it with -impunity. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - - _The House of Lords—Their Lordships in Session._ - - -The new House of Lords is a superb specimen of modern art; and, in every -way, is worthy of the hereditary Senate of the British Empire. Perhaps -it is too small for full effect, and yet, if larger, it would hardily -answer the purposes of speaking and hearing. Its dimensions, however, -are symbolical of its character, as intended for the use of a very -select assembly; and would seem to indicate, moreover, (to copy once -more the manner of Fuller,) that the Whigs are not to reign forever, -seeing that if such as my Lord John Russell should long continue in -power, there would need be built a much larger hall to contain all the -broken lawyers, hack politicians, Popish Bishops, and rich Jews, who -might justly expect, from former examples, to be fitted up with -coronets, coats of arms, and patents of nobility. The like idea seems to -obtain, moreover, in the decorations of the hall, in which History is -artfully blended with Religion and Chivalry; implying, if my republican -comprehension can rightly interpret this writing on the wall, that to be -a true patrician, one must have historical antecedents, and should -represent some great fact in the annals of one’s country; and that such -antecedents, to be made honourable to an individual, must be sustained -by personal worth, and by that refined and sublimated virtue which is -called honour. Thus, for example, a Nelson or a Wellington is a nobleman -by the historic origin of his family, although of modern date; while, -with respect to “all the blood of all the Howards,” it is equally true, -that if devoid of corresponding traits of magnanimity and honesty, its -degenerate inheritor is, after all, only fit to be hooted at as a -poltroon and a villain. This principle I fully understand, American as I -am. I feel that something is due to the worthy representative of a name -illustrious in the annals of a great nation; but your mere Lord -Moneybags, or the spiritless and unprincipled shadow of a name that was -once right-honourable, are creatures with whose acquaintance I should -feel it somewhat discreditable to be bored. Every man who has moral -worth, and who respects himself accordingly, must entertain a degree of -honest contempt for such company, somewhat akin to that of good old -Johnson, in his thread-bare coat, when he wrote his inimitable letter to -Chesterfield. - -However, their Lordships’ House! There is the Throne; and I defy any one -to look at the Throne of England without veneration. It is a gorgeous -seat, over which appear the royal arms, while on its right and left are -seats for the Prince Consort and the Prince of Wales. A splendid canopy -overhangs the dais on which these seats are ranged, and the dais itself -is covered with a carpet of “scarlet velvet pile, spotted with heraldic -lions and roses.” The ceiling is ribbed with massive gilded bands, and -richly bossed and set with devices in all the colours of blazonry. -Between the lofty windows are niches intended to receive the bronze -statues of the old Magna Charta Barons, while the windows themselves are -filled with stained glass, commemorative of the Kings and Queens of -England. The subordinate ornaments and furniture are all in keeping. On -the right hand of the Throne, are the seats appropriate to the Bishops, -where the Church “lifts her mitred front” before the Sovereign, and -teaches her by whom she reigns, and how she may execute judgment. But -directly in front of the Throne is the _woolsack_, covered with red -cloth, and otherwise made suitable to “the keeper of the Queen’s -conscience,” who ordinarily sits thereon. Before this are the clerks’ -table and seats, and then the bar; while on either hand range the -crimson benches of the Peers. At the end of the hall is the reporters’ -and strangers’ gallery, of very small dimensions, from which, however, -one gets the best view of the whole interior, and of the striking -pictures over the Throne. These are happily chosen as to subjects, and -well executed as frescoes. In the centre is the Baptism of King -Ethelbert—the symbol of a truly Christian realm: on one side is the -Black Prince receiving the Garter—a symbol of genuine chivalry; and on -the other is Henry, Prince of Wales, submitting to imprisonment for an -assault upon Judge Gascoigne—a most speaking exhibition of the -time-honoured relations subsisting between British Royalty and British -Law. It will be a wholesome thing for every future Prince of Wales to -look at this picture, before he presumes to sit down under it. It may -really have an important influence in moulding the character of future -Kings. God grant it may! - -In surveying this splendid apartment, the mind naturally goes forward, -since it presents the fancy with no past history. What is to be its -future? Is this House to be the scene of a further development of vast -imperial resources? Is it to be graced by a perpetuated aristocracy, -surviving every change in society and in arts, by the force of their own -character, as furnishing a high example to mankind of “whatsoever things -are lovely and of good report?” Is this roof to resound with the voices -of high-minded men, asserting from age to age their privilege to be -foremost in defence of religion and of humanity, and to do and to suffer -for the good of their fellow-subjects, and the welfare of mankind? Is -the British Peerage to grow brighter with high moral qualities, than -with hereditary honours, and to be cherished by an enlightened spirit of -public virtue as a standard of all that is honourable, and as a pattern -of what is most excellent in the ideal of the true Christian gentleman? -Or must the sad reverse be true, and must this House be the scene of the -last act in the eventful history of England? Shall a factitious nobility -be crowded into these chief seats of the realm; men devoid of ennobling -antecedents, and not less so of honour and of worth? Shall the decay of -a mighty Empire be marked by such a House of Lords as may facilitate the -plans of the demagogue, sinking the Sovereign to a Doge, and the Church -to a State hireling, and giving to the Commons the unrestrained -privilege of revolution and anarchy? These are questions which a -well-wisher to the British Empire cannot but suggest, in view of events -which have lately taken place; and especially in view of the fact, that -the House of Lords has not unfrequently of late suffered itself to be -disgraced by breaches of Christian courtesy, not to say of common -decency, which, if multiplied in such a conspicuous place, must tend to -barbarize the world. Let us hear no more of disgraceful scenes in the -American Congress, till hereditary noblemen, who have little else to do, -can furnish mankind with a wholesome example of high legislative -decorum! For unless noblemen will reflect upon their position, and act -upon convictions of what is necessary to the credit of their rank, in a -day when true gentlemen are by no means rare, outside their glittering -circle, and even among plain republicans, they must not wonder if they -too should become as a worn-out form, or an exploded theory. Who knows -how soon this superb hall of legislation may be exhibited as the chief -memorial of their existence? If the British Peerage proves untrue to the -Church of England, and degrades itself to the bare responding of an -_Amen_ to every momentary _Credo_ of Ministers and Commons, what use of -such machinery? This palace shall be even as those of Venice. This -gorgeous interior shall be kept under the key of the mere _cicerone_, -and shown as a thing of the past to the staring traveller, as he marvels -over tarnished gilding and faded damask, and at every tread disturbs the -dust upon its floor, or breaks through cobwebs dangling from its -ceiling. - -When one sees, in the writings of such a man as Dr. Arnold, confessions -of annoyance, if not of a sense of injury, from the existence of a -privileged class, to which merit must constantly give way, where -otherwise it would be entitled to precedence; and when one discovers, -even in the highest seats of British intellect and piety, a certain -deference to mere rank, which seems humiliating; and when one finds -something of the spirit of _tuft-hunting_ diffused through all classes -alike, from the Tory school-boy to the Whig Bishop; one feels indeed -that there may be arguments against the aristocratic element in society, -which have never been stated in their list of grievances by political -agitators. But, after all, in an old country like England, the -aristocracy exists, and there is no destroying it without destroying the -nation. The infernal _guillotine_ itself cannot wholly make way with it, -as France has learned to its sorrow. What then? It must be modified and -perpetuated. It must be purified, and worked in with society, as its -ornament, but not its fabric. This is what is done already in England. -The nobility, the clergy, the gentry, the literati, the professional -classes, and then the people—after all, in England they are one; “shade -unperceived and softening into shade,” and joined and knit together by -habits, tastes, alliances, and interests, in a wonderful order. Much yet -remains to be done, and will be done, to smooth down remaining -asperities between rank and rank; but the British aristocracy may be -said, even now, to be a genuine one, identified with everything great -and good in the nation, and, on the whole, presenting a wholesome -example to other classes in the State. In all probability, so virtuous -an aristocracy has never been seen elsewhere among mankind. Among them -may be found specimens of human nature, whose physical and mental -endowments, together with their moral worth, and intellectual -accomplishments, entitle them to the highest admiration of their -fellow-men. We are too well aware that side by side with such, may sit, -adorned with equal rank and titles, some wretch, whose coronet has been -purchased by infamy, and whose hereditary decorations are but the -mockery of a character, every way pestilent and detestable. The English -themselves are used to it; but it strikes a republican with amazement -that such creatures should be noble, even “by courtesy.” - -To see the House, as I saw it first, empty, and for the sake of its -architecture and decoration, one gets a ticket by applying at the -adjoining office of the Lord Chamberlain, on specified days. To attend -the sessions of the House of Lords, one must possess an autograph order -by a Peer. With this I was kindly supplied, not only for one night, but -for four; the orders being given me in blanks, which I was permitted to -fill with any dates that might best suit my convenience. It so happened -that little was going on in the House of Lords while I was in London, -and I did not see it to advantage. As I heard several of its most -eminent members elsewhere, however, and frequently met with them in -society, I had less to regret than would otherwise have been the case. -In the House itself, I saw enough to familiarize me with its appearance -and manners, and the rest is easily imagined, when one has before him -the _Times’_ report of any particular scene. - -Lord Truro, sitting on the woolsack, was the first object that struck me -on entering—and it was by no means a majestic one. He is a _Russell_ -Chancellor, and of course no Clarendon. Shades of Somers and of Eldon, -what a figure I saw in your old seat! The sight of the Bishops, in their -robes, with the old Primate, in his wig, reminded me of Chatham’s appeal -to “that right reverend bench, and the unsullied purity of their lawn.” -Their Lordships were few in number, and among them the Bishop of Oxford -was the man of mark. I doubt if he has his equal in the House for -“thoughts that breathe and words that burn.” The Lords temporal were -lounging about their benches, hats on or off, as chanced to be, and what -little speaking I heard, was by no means such as to rouse them to -particular attention. A hesitating, stuttering, and very awkward -utterance would even seem to be the fashion in this noble House. I -looked in vain for Lord Brougham, not because I have any great respect -for him, but because one may be pardoned for trying to see such a -curiosity, when it is, possibly, just under one’s nose. He has been -vastly over-rated, and will soon be forgotten. In general, their -Lordships looked like well-bred gentlemen, and there was about them a -certain air of travel and of finish, which marks the habituated man of -the world. Some of them were plainly dressed, but others were evidently -men of fashion. One thing they ought to know and feel, and that is—that -much is given them, and much will be required of them. No doubt every -position has its qualifying disadvantages and trials; yet it must be -allowed that no station in which a human being can find himself placed -by his Creator, affords so many advantages, at the very outset, for -usefulness and happiness in life, as that of a young English Peer of -competent fortune and sound mind, with a healthful body, and a good -education. What a hint for such a man is that challenge of nature’s own -nobleman, St. Paul—_Who maketh thee to differ from another, and what -hast thou that thou didst not receive?_ - -An incident which created some excitement in fashionable circles, -shortly after the opening of the Crystal Palace, will illustrate one -feature of British civilization which will not be out of place in -connection with these remarks on the aristocracy. Everybody has heard of -the London Police, their admirable drill, and great efficiency. Their -impartial enforcement of the rules of the Great Exhibition was -peculiarly illustrative of these characteristics, and also of the spirit -of law and order, as paramount and inflexible in the Metropolis. No -departure from these rules was allowed to any one; and carriage after -carriage, all blazing with heraldic splendours, and filled with rank and -beauty, was forced to change its route by the simple waving of a -policeman’s finger. It so happened that a dashing young fellow, a scion -of the noble house of S——, driving his own equipage through Hyde Park, -ventured to disobey. On this the policeman seized the horse’s head, and -backed him. The hot-blooded Jehu instantly raised his whip, and struck -the policeman several violent blows over the face and head. The result -was his immediate arrest; and on being carried before the Magistrate, -young S—— found himself committed for ten days imprisonment, which he -accordingly fulfilled with exemplary submission, wearing jail-clothes, -and performing sundry penances, precisely as if he had been the humblest -offender in the land. On the same day that this happened, a cabman whom -I had engaged to take me, in a hurry, to a certain part of the town, -drove me rapidly through St. James’s Park, and was just making his -escape into the street, near Buckingham Palace, when he was stopped, in -the gate, by a policeman, and ordered instantly back, with a threat of -severe punishment should he again trespass where he knew that only -private carriages were admitted. As my time was precious, I ventured to -interpose, and exhausted every art, in vain, to induce the inexorable -policeman to allow the cab to pass on. He little knew my sincere respect -for him, and the real satisfaction I took in thus finding him “a brick -for his principles.” Finally, I offered to alight, and discharge the -cabman there; but this also the policeman respectfully forbade. “It -would never do,” he said, “to allow cabmen to take such liberties; the -cab must go back;” but then he advised me not to pay the fellow a single -penny, as he was not entitled to anything but an arrest, for exemption -from which he might be thankful. I was exceedingly annoyed, in spite of -my admiration for authority, but thought it best to submit without -further parley. Next day I heard of the fate of the Honorable Mr. S——, -and, on the whole, felt glad that I had got off so easily. Thus it seems -that law is law in London, for all classes alike; and if the stranger, -in his cab, is not permitted to violate it, he may at least console -himself with the fact that he would fare no better if he were a -home-born aristocrat in a dashing tilbury. It is this well-defined -system of society, in which every man knows his rights, and where even -privilege is limited, and as absolutely held in check as license, that -makes even humble life in England, in spite of all its burdens, a life -of liberty and contentment. Theoretical equality may exist with far less -of real independence, and we who value ourselves on self-government, are -perhaps in danger of finding ourselves without government, and too -jealous of authority to submit even to law. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - - _St. Mary’s, Lambeth—Temple—St. Paul’s—Tunnel._ - - -Time never need hang heavily on one’s hands in London. A stroll in the -Parks is an unfailing resource in fair weather: when it was wet, I used -to take refuge under cover of some exhibition. The National Gallery, in -Trafalgar Square, and the Vernon Gallery, gratuitously opened to the -public, in Marlborough House, were quite a resource; although the annual -show of pictures in the former was nothing extraordinary. The portrait -of Dr. Wiseman was displayed there, and a sight of it cured me of all -curiosity to see more of him. Its coarse and sensual effect afforded a -very striking contrast to the refined and intellectual head of the -Bishop of London, which was hung _vis-à-vis_, perhaps not without -design. But of pictures I do not propose to speak particularly. - -In the cool of a charming May morning I sauntered forth, and crossed -Westminster Bridge. It was too late for the full enjoyment of -Wordsworth’s emotions, on that thoroughfare, for already the city was -astir; and yet there was enough in the scene it commanded to make one -stop a few moments and conjure up the imagery of his inimitable -sonnet:— - - “Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie - All bright and glittering in the smokeless air! - Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep: - The river glideth at his own sweet will; - Dear God! the very houses seem asleep, - And all that mighty heart is lying still!” - -So I passed on to Lambeth, and came by Bishop’s Walk, under the walls of -the Archbishop’s gardens, to Morning Prayer at St. Mary’s. It was here, -under the shadow of this Church, that the poor Queen of James, the -Runagate, stood shivering on a stormy night, with her unfortunate little -babe packed up in a basket, awaiting a start to France. Had the baby -only cried, how different might have been the history of the British -Crown and nation! A great many Scotchmen would have lived quietly -through the greater part of the succeeding century, who (as the baby -slept soundly) were only born to be hanged, shot, and beheaded; and -then, in all probability, we should have had no Waverley novels! -However, I now found the Church a ruin; only its tower standing, and a -bit of the chancel, while the rebuilding was going bravely on. But I am -glad to say that the daily service was not therefore interrupted. The -chancel was roughly boarded up, and protected from the weather, and -there a good congregation was at prayer when I entered, two curates -officiating. I was rejoiced to worship there, in such a primitive way. -The bones of the brave old primate Bancroft, and of good Archbishop -Tenison were beneath us as we knelt; and the meek Secker reposes hard -by. - -After breakfast, at the Rectory, in a room overlooking the -archiepiscopal grounds, I went to the river, and hunted up one of those -deposed and antiquated things—a _wherry_, resolved to go by water, in -the old fashioned way, from Lambeth to the Temple. Now, then, I was -legitimately afloat upon “the silent highway,” only that the hideous -little steamers would destroy my anti-modern imaginations, as they -paddled triumphantly by. I was trying to imagine myself in the primate’s -barge, with Cranmer or with Laud; or again, as I “shot the bridge, with -its roar of waters,” I conjured up the day when Dryden, with his -fashionable companions, took water, that they might the better hear the -distant guns, by which they knew “the fleet, under his Royal Highness, -was then engaging the Dutch upon the coast, and that a great event was -then deciding.” Ah! it was the poetry of the Thames to go upon it with -oars, and to hear the waterman lament the degenerate days of steam; or -to draw out his _Allegro_ by questions about the “champion of the -river,” and the great rowing match soon to come off, to the probable -discomfiture of that hero’s further claims to that dignity. The salt -talked very bad _dry_ English, but his _wet_ vocabulary was truly rich; -and I left his boat at Blackfriars Bridge, with a sort of feeling that, -instead of a few paltry shillings he had earned by his conduct on the -voyage, the not unusual compliment to affable sea-captains, of “a vote -of thanks, and a piece of plate.” - -I now went to the Temple Gardens, where, according to great Will, began -the wars of York and Lancaster, by the plucking of the two roses; and, -for a while, I sauntered about those pleasant walks, in the company of -one of the benchers, feeling very much as if I had found a little Oxford -on the margin of the Thames. After a subsequent visit to the room which -Dr. Johnson once inhabited, and sauntering through courts and alleys, -where one sees many a celebrated name painted over a door, as a business -sign, we entered the Temple Church. Great restorations have been made -here of late, at an immense expense, and generally in good taste and on -correct principles, save that unsightly seats, too much like pews, -encumber the space in front of the altar, which ought to be entirely -open. What a reverend old Church; built in the twelfth century by -Crusaders, and consecrated by a Patriarch of Jerusalem! Under its walls, -inside, lies Selden, and outside, lies Oliver Goldsmith; but, to me, its -most sacred interest is the fact, that here the immortal Hooker erected -those noble defences of the Church of England which broke the rising -tide of Puritanism, and ultimately saved us from its floods. Here that -great “Master of the Temple,” while his inmost soul was panting for a -quiet country cure, bore patiently the heat and burthen of the day, in -wearisome conflict with the dogged Travers, who could always preach -“_Geneva_ in the afternoon, against the morning _Canterbury_.” On -entering “the Round,” you are struck with its venerable effect, -heightened by the fine figures of the old Templars, stretched, -cross-legged, upon the floor. These figures were sadly mutilated, but -have been admirably restored. The Round is free from pewing, and opens -into the choir, where the benchers’ stalls are ranged on either hand. -The two societies of the Middle and Inner Temple worship here together, -and their respective arms—a Pegasus and a Lamb—are interchanged in the -showy decorations of the vaulting. - -I ascended into the _triforia_ by a cork-screw staircase, pausing to -enter the famous Penitential Cell—a dismal hole in the wall, in which a -refractory Templar was sometimes confined, but which offered him the -consolations of religion, by means of a hagioscope, or slit in the -masonry, through which he could see the altar of the Church, and join in -the devotions of his brethren—though it may be feared he more generally -responded to their chant with anything but benediction. In the -_triforia_ are happily preserved all the monuments which lately -disfigured the walls below: and so set are the benchers against any -renewing of a bad example, that I was told they had resisted the -erection of even Hooker’s bust in the choir. This I was sorry to hear, -as one really felt the want of it on looking about the walls which once -reflected the sounds of his earnest and persuasive voice. And what was -my surprise, on my next visit, to find a workman setting it there, just -as it should be! It was covered. I begged him to let me see it. ‘Honour -to thy old square cap, thou venerable and judicious Richard,’ said my -inmost heart, as the well-known features emerged in all their dignity; -and then I asked if I was so fortunate as to be the very first to salute -it. The workman, who was the sculptor himself, assured me that I was. -‘It is well,’ I answered, ‘that an American clergyman should have the -privilege. We know how to value in America the great defender of Law and -of Religion, and much as England owes to Hooker, America owes infinitely -more, or will do so when the Church shall have proved herself, as she -will in the end, the salvation of the Republic.’ - -Under the roof of the Middle Temple Hall, where the benchers, barristers -and students still dine together, was first acted on Twelfth night, -1602, Shakspeare’s play, so called. A visit to that noble hall, and a -sight of its celebrated equestrian Charles First, by Vandyck, gave me -great delight. There are also several other royal portraits, and many -heraldic memorials of the great historic lawyers who once “ate their -terms” within its walls. The hall of the Inner Temple is less striking, -but of similar character. One wonders what future Lord Chancellor sits -daily at these boards, among the students. But in the Inner Temple, I -thought chiefly of that gentle Templar, more gentle than its armorial -Lamb, who once sat with them, the author of “the Task.” - -My next visit was an ambitious one. I spent an hour, or so, in climbing -to the ball of St. Paul’s, within which, of course, I ensconsed myself, -and indulged in very sublime reflections. The fact is, however, that it -was very hot, and when some half dozen cockneys had wedged themselves -in, after me, I verily thought the chances lay between smothering and -being toppled down in a lump into the street (400 feet below) like a big -pippin; for the ball shook and trembled upon the rods which support it, -in a manner by no means soothing to excitable nerves. I was glad when I -got safely back to the “Golden Gallery,” and could cool myself, and look -down on the roofs and chimneys of the million at one glance. Here is -your true view of London! Here that “mighty heart” is seen, and felt, -and heard in its throbbings. Here a thoughtful man finds food for -reflection, and a benevolent one for interceding prayer. Oh, God! to -think of the life and death, the joy and misery, the innocence and the -guilt, and all the mixed and mingled passions, emotions, thoughts, and -deeds which are going on beneath these roofs, along those labyrinthine -streets, and alleys, and in all this circuit of miles and miles, and -close-packed human beings! God alone understands the issues there -deciding: it is too much for one to dwell upon a single moment; but, -thank God for the assurance that “He remembereth that we are but dust:” -yea, thank God, for a Saviour and an High Priest, who can be touched -with the feeling of human infirmities! - -In the successive stages of mounting to the ball, one passes, of course, -many objects of interest. The original model of St. Paul’s is well -worthy of inspection, as conveying Wren’s own ideal of the cathedral. He -was so attached to it, that he cried when forced to depart from it; but -it strikes me as greatly inferior to the actual design. It might better -suit the _dilettanti_, but except in the unreality of the second story, -which is a mere screen to the roofing and buttresses, I can see nothing -to regret in the substitution. The model room is also the depository of -sundry old and tattered flags, which, after escaping “the thunder of the -captains, and the shoutings,” were formerly suspended in the dome. It -was fashionable to say that they desecrated it—but why so? The God of -battles and the Prince of Peace are one: and I can see no reason why the -flags of Waterloo should not be hung up before the Lord of Hosts, in His -Holy Temple. The question is merely one of taste; but the flags may be -as well considered as tokens of peace, as trophies of war; and why -should not the providence of God, as the giver of all victory, be thus -recognized, by a significant acknowledgment, that to Him, and not to the -Duke of Wellington, for example, we owe the general peace which has for -so long a period blessed the world, since the overthrow of Napoleon? It -is a sublime association with this cathedral, that it was first used for -Divine Service in celebrating the Peace of Ryswick, which, with all its -faults, has secured to England inestimable blessings: and, perhaps the -virtual appeal to God, which is made by connecting His awful name with -the awful issues of battles, may have a happy effect on the national -conscience. It may make men afraid of mere wars of ambition; may keep in -view the fact, that peace only should be the end of conflict; and may -also correct the sentimentalism which fails to see that war may -sometimes be a just and a holy exertion of that magistracy with which -God has girded the loins of rulers, and for which they are responsible -to Him who commands them not to “wear the sword in vain.” - -The Library is a place of little interest to one who has but little -time. You look with reverence at the great bell, which thunders out the -death of time from hour to hour, and only tolls when a Prince’s -departure, or that of some great ecclesiastic, is to be announced to the -nation. The vastness of the clock and its dial, give you fresh -impressions of the enormous scale of everything about you, and the -Whispering Gallery is reached with a sense of fatigue, which quite -accords with this effect. Here a bore of a fellow shows off the petty -experiment of the whisper, and stuns you by slamming a door; after which -you are vexed to find that the paintings of the dome have disappeared -under the humid influences of the London climate. It is only when these -first annoyances are over, that you regain entire command of your -thoughts, and are able to measure “the length and breadth, and depth and -height,” of the noble dome within whose concavity you are now walking -about, and perchance listening to the glorious swell of the organ below. -The architecture of this dome becomes easily understood, as one ascends -between its inner and outer surfaces, and one cannot but regret to find -that the former is so vastly disproportioned to the latter. Here the -triumph of Michael Angelo, and the one grand superiority of St. Peter’s, -begins to be powerfully felt. Wren has constructed his dome prosaically; -the rhetoric and the poetry of architecture are sublimely displayed in -the work of the mighty Florentine. - -During the ascent, you emerge from time to time to open air, and get -external views from the successive galleries. London chimneys are, at -first, below you, and then the steeples, and then even its canopy of -smoke and vapour; and all its mingling sounds come to your ear at last -like the murmur of the sea. “How dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low.” -The elevation is indeed considerable; but with such a Babel at one’s -feet; with the fleets and the treasures of nations all in sight; and -with a million of men swarming like ants in their mole-hill, just below, -it is one’s own fault if the moral elevation be not far more sublime, -and if the impressions of the hour are not forcibly suggestive of a -glimpse of the world from the mansions of eternity. - -After a very cursory inspection of the ill-judged sculpture in the nave -and transepts, and a more affectionate visit to the statue of Howard, to -the kneeling figure of Heber, and that of Bishop Middleton, which -represents him as confirming two Indian children, I had time to survey -the crypts before the Evening Service. Here lie Reynolds, and West, and -Lawrence, and several of their brothers of the Academy; and here, in a -sort of chapel, which admits the external air and light through a -grating, lies the architect himself—the truly great Sir Christopher. - - “Lie heavy on him earth, for he - Laid many a heavy load on thee!” - -But now you come to the circular vault, upheld by massive pillars, and -lighted partially from the dome above, but more strongly by gas-burners, -where you stand before the sepulchre of Nelson. The sarcophagus is an -empty relic of Cardinal Wolsey’s ambition, but looks so modern, that one -is tempted to believe he ordered it in prophetic spirit, expressly for -its present purpose. After all, it is not Nelson’s sepulchre, for he is -buried under it. The hero and the ecclesiastic have alike been compelled -to accept a “little earth for charity,” and this hollow semblance of a -coffin dangles like that of Mohammed, between them. Alas! that Nelson’s -tomb should suggest any meaner thoughts than those of his genius and -glory; but it was in fact a relief to turn to the simple monument of -Collingwood, and to be able to say, here lies not only a decaying hero, -but a slumbering Christian. - -I looked for the monument of Dr. Donne with especial interest. You grope -amid interesting relics of old St. Paul’s, a fragment of Lord Chancellor -Hatton’s effigy, a piece of Dean Colet’s, and another of Sir Nicholas -Bacon’s. At last, in one corner of a dismal cell, feebly lighted by a -grated window from without, you see the old worthy, in his shroud, -precisely as Walton describes the figure, but leaning against the wall -like a ghost, or rather like one of the dried corpses in the Morgue, on -the Great St. Bernard. You think of his truly heavenly mind, and strange -life; of his rusty old poetry, and sound old sermons; of his ancestor, -Sir Thomas More, and of his descendant, William Cowper. It is strange -that no one ever thinks of Cowper as the inheritor of this double -genius, and as owing some features of his intellect not less to the -rhyming Dean of St. Paul’s, than to the author of _Utopia_. One would -hope that under the Deanship of another poet, the graceful and scholarly -Milman, this one historic relic of the old cathedral, and of a brother -of the sacred lyre, might be set in a fitter place, or at least more -decently erected in the place where it now seems irreverently set aside -to moulder and be forgotten. - -The _Thames Tunnel_ was pronounced, by Canning, “the greatest bore in -England:” he was bored to death by applications for Government aid in -completing it, and hence spoke feelingly. It is now apparently done, -though not finished, and is a cockney wonder, well worth a visit. Were -it only in actual use as a thoroughfare under the bed of the Thames, -thus realizing the original conception, it would not be without an -element of true sublimity; but to see it degraded to a miserable show, -scarcely paying for its keeper, and serving only to enable the visitor -to say that he has walked under the Thames, is enough to justify one in -naming it a folly. Its uses, however, may even yet be demonstrated to be -great, and I cannot but feel that this noble work has not been executed -for naught. It will even yet have a history. Pity it is that the Duke of -Wellington had no occasion to use it, in planning the defences of the -city on the memorable tenth of April, 1848. It needed but the passage of -a single regiment, under his command, through this mysterious -excavation, for actual purposes of surprise and stratagem, to give the -place a charm forever; and had such a passage been by chance -accomplished in the night, and led by the Duke in person, for the sake -of some masterly result, a new and romantic interest would have been -added as well to his own marvellous story, as to that of the Tunnel -itself. If the caverny wine vaults of the London Docks were but -connected with the Tunnel on one side, and the Tower on the other, so -that there might be a sub-marine passage to the Tower, from the Surrey -side, it would at least furnish associations of a military character to -this daring achievement of Brunel. - -Such were some of the random suggestions of my fancy, as I descended the -shaft, on the Wapping-side. I entered the dark hole, with a vague -realization of the descent of the Trojan hero into the shades of old. -The first glance reveals a narrow street, with very narrow side-walks, -or _trottoirs_, arched over with masonry, which is quite devoid of -anything remarkable in itself. It is here and there a little -damp-looking, but not more so perhaps than tunnels under ground. Gas -burns along the dismal vault, but hardly lights it; enabling one to -amuse himself with the thought of seeing fire beneath a river, and to -pick his way comfortably; but otherwise only rendering darkness visible. -The corresponding way, or the other half, is quite filled up with stalls -and shops, in which they offer, here a raree-show, and there -refreshments. A wretched grinding organ fills the cavern with doleful -music, and little peddlers offer things for sale. So few, however, seem -to be passing, that one wonders how they find it worth while to carry on -this mermaid merchandise. You are so bored with their importunity, that -it is not without an effort that you compose yourself, and reflect that -fishes are swimming, and that the keels of countless ships, with the -wealth of nations in their holds, are passing over your head, and that -the very smallest breach in the arch above would “hurl an ocean on your -march below.” This is the one great idea of the Tunnel. I passed through -and emerged at Rotherhithe, and then descending, returned in the same -way. It occurred to me, what if Guy Fawkes the Second should fill this -place with gunpowder, and touch off the magazine, by electric telegraph, -just as a royal fleet was passing the critical point! Strange to say, it -might be so arranged, by means of the telegraph and Cardinal Wiseman, -that the Pope himself, sitting in his armchair at the Vatican, might -produce this terrible explosion in the Thames; and I suppose he is quite -as likely to do it, as he is to effect the other results which he and -the Cardinal (or the Cardinal and he) are actually attempting. - -The shipping which one beholds in the vicinity of the Tunnel, is such as -to produce a powerful impression upon the mind, in favour of the vast -scale on which the commerce of London is maintained with the whole -world. Truly—“the harvest of the river is her revenue, and she is a -mart of nations.” As compared with the port of New-York, the narrowness -of the river here rather increases than lessens the effect, bringing the -forest of masts and the bulk of steamers close together, while, in our -great harbour, they are stretched along such a circuit of shore, or -anchored in such an expanse of water, as materially diminishes the -general impression of multitude and immensity. It must be remembered, -however, that in estimating the tonnage of London, a vast number of -vessels are included which are never thought of at the Custom-house in -New-York. Thus, our river craft, which supply the city with produce for -the market, such as eggs, poultry and the like, with the whole fleet of -our domestic steamers, go for nothing with us; while on the contrary, -the hoys that bring the like from the Low Countries and the coast of -France, with the steamers that ply to other British ports, are all -religiously reckoned in the commercial lists of the British Metropolis. -With this abatement, one is surprised to see how respectable a -proportion the tonnage of New-York bears to that of the populous Tyre of -England; a proportion which is probably destined to a direct reversal at -no distant period, when once the Pacific and the Australian and Asiatic -coasts are fairly opened to our direct trade through the Isthmus of -Darien. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - - _London Sights and By-places._ - - -It is surprising how deep-rooted in one’s mind is the nonsense -literature of the nursery, and how practically useful it often renders -itself in the serious occasions of life. The _Cries of London_, and the -rhymes of _Mother Goose_ may often point a moral of grave importance to -mankind; but not less were they serviceable to me, in enlivening many a -nook and corner of the great Metropolis, whenever I gave myself up to a -city stroll, as I frequently did, without plan, and in the merest mood -of adventure. ‘Heigho! here is Holborn’—or again—‘this, then, is -Eastcheap’—or similar exclamations in view of St. Bride’s or St. -Helen’s—such were my entertainments, as I moved musingly along, among -stock-jobbers and Jews. The sight of Pannier Alley, or Pudding Lane, I -am free to confess, raised emotions truly lively and refreshing; and -seldom was I in want of associations, equally sentimental and profound, -while I traversed, with all the reverence of a pilgrim, the mighty -realms of Cockaigne. - -From Charing-cross to Temple-bar, in spite of the modern improvements, -one picks not a little of this sort of pleasure as he saunters along. -Turning aside for a moment, let us step into Covent-gardens. There is -the Church, so memorable from Hogarth’s picture; and so illustrative of -the piety and taste of the Russels, one of whom being forced to build it -here, amid his thousand tenants, gave Inigo Jones the order, and -suggested the munificence of his plans in the words—“anything—a barn -will do.” Accordingly, a barn it is. I searched its precincts for the -grave of Butler, that marvellous Daguerreotypist of Puritanism, whose -rhymes and aphorisms will live as long as the language which they so -curiously shape and conjure into forms the most congenial to their pith -and purpose. In the market one lingers amid the fruits and flowers, -which here, every morning, offer to the Londoners a toothsome and -brilliant display. “Buy my roses”—“cherry ripe, cherry -red”—“strawberries, your honour”—and “flowers all a-blowing, all -a-growing”—such are the sounds with which you are for a moment -emparadised, albeit in London streets. Here also you spy an alderman’s -dinner at every turn, and wonder how Chatterton could have contrived to -starve, within call of such a surfeit. But alas! full many a ragged -visitor looks on with lean and hungry stare, and famishes the more -bitterly for the sight of plenty, which he cannot enjoy. - -But resuming our walk, we again step aside to look at the Savoy. To do -this, we pitch down hill, towards the Thames; and there is all that -remains of the famous Palace, in the little homely old Church, to which -I did reverence in gratitude to God for the famous Conference, which -resulted in enriching the Prayer-book with several good things, (and -with the significant addition of two words in the Litany, _rebellion_ -and _schism_, amongst the rest,) as the result of the Restoration. Next -we survey the splendours of Somerset House, not without regretting the -obliteration of the old historical landmarks which it has deposed. In -the middle of the street, before it, is the Church of St. -Mary-le-Strand, where stood, in good old times, that famous May-pole, so -profane and odious to the Round-heads, but which makes so picturesque a -figure in our visions of the past. It perished honourably at last, for -when no longer used for Spring dances and revels, it was given to Sir -Isaac Newton, who hung his telescope thereto, and made it serve him in -exploring the stars. So come we to St. Clement Danes, where grave -visions of Johnson, keeping Easter, and approaching the Holy Sacrament -with fear and trembling, give dignity to its otherwise lack-lustre -appearance. And here is the Bar, where we enter Fleet-street and the -city, and where less serious memories of the great moralist afflict -one’s desire to preserve propriety. Fancy him here, with Boswell to look -at him, holding on to a post, and making the night resound with his -_ha-ha_, as he burst into earth-shaking laughter over his own wit. Even -in his day, this gate of the city used, occasionally, to be set with the -grim heads of decapitated traitors, and I remembered that, for once, -poor Goldsmith got the better of him here, by an apt allusion to the -ghastly spectacle. They had been moralizing together in Westminster -Abbey, where Johnson had pointed to the busts in Poets’ Corner, and -whispered, in a ponderous Latin quotation, to his brother poet—“perhaps -our heads shall yet be set with theirs.” Poor Goldy kept his wit pent up -till he arrived at this spot, when, pointing Johnson to the grim skulls -of his fellow-Jacobites, he slyly repeated—“perhaps our heads shall yet -be set with theirs!” In further honour of these worthies, I hunted up -that orthodox chop-house, “the Mitre,” and explored with awe the dingy -precinct of “Bolt-Court:” nor should I have forgotten, before leaving -the Strand, to make worthy mention of “Clement’s Inn,” where I surveyed, -for a few minutes, what remains of that ancient haunt of Falstaff’s -memories; remembering too that “forked radish” of a man whom Falstaff’s -recollections did so vilely disparage. But time would fail me to detail -my various _ins_ and _outs_, as I surveyed the streets of London from -St. Dunstan’s to Whitefriars. - -In company with a gentleman of the Middle Temple, I went one morning to -Lincoln’s Inn, and surveyed its Hall and Library, which have been lately -restored, in the style and taste of the olden time. I had the pleasure -of looking at Lord Erskine’s statue, under the kindly guidance of one of -his descendants. In the chapel, the pulpit where Heber used to preach, -was my chief object of interest. Lincoln’s Inn Fields attracted my -attention, for a time, though it is hard to conjure up, in such a spot -as it is at present, the scaffold and the block, and poor Lord William -Russell saying his last prayers. To the Temple gardens I then repaired -for a little stroll, and there encountered the Crown-prince of Prussia, -making his survey of the place, attended by his suite. He moves rapidly, -and cuts a good figure. What he is, we shall be likely to know if we -live to see him reign. From the Temple to _Alsatia_ is but a step, and -here I walked in painful honour of Nigel Olifaunt, as long as the sights -and smells, which still preserve a thievish richness, would allow a mere -romance to support my enthusiasm. And so from Whitefriars to -Blackfriars, where, upon the very walls of ancient London, “the Times -Newspaper” now flourishes, in its modern offices, and oft “_with fear of -change_, perplexes monarchs.” I had been so happy as to make the -acquaintance of Mr. Walter, its eminent proprietor; and under his -hospitable roof, in Upper Grosvenor-street, I met with some of the most -agreeable personages whom I encountered in the society of the -Metropolis. The day’s adventures closed with a visit to Herald’s -College, and to Doctors’ Commons. A slight inspection of the latter -sufficed; but as I was in company with one who had business at the -former, I lingered for a while in its worshipful chambers, and was glad -to see something of the process of the anti-republican mystery to which -it is devoted. Here are the historic books, from which pedigrees are -furnished; and here are the authorities for quarterings and -emblazonings, and all such changes in coat-armour as marriages and -entailments may make necessary. Some interesting relics are shown of the -days when knights and tournaments, and battles too, were in higher -esteem than now; and one cannot but be entertained with the beautiful -drawings and colourings of the divers artists here employed to “gild the -refined gold” of British gentility. In the quadrangle of the College are -the escutcheons of the Stanleys, marking the site of the ancient Derby -House. - -I had met, more than once, with Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd, and by his -invitation, I took an opportunity to be a spectator at the Old Bailey -one morning, when some flagrant criminals were to be tried. It is a -horrid spectacle, but one would see everything, except the last act at -Newgate, on many reasonable grounds. I shuddered as I entered the street -before the prison, where such crowds of brutal human beings have long -been wont to congregate around the gallows. Dr. Dodd was not hanged -here, but I could think of him only as I entered the doleful little -courtroom in which he was tried. I found an inferior magistrate trying -some petty offenders; but when this was over, the judges, in their robes -and wigs, made their appearance, preceded by the sheriff, dressed in a -full court suit, and bearing a drawn sword. The judges were Baron -Alderson, and my kind friend, Judge Talfourd. I was seated, by his -order, in a raised box, or pew, at the side of the bench, apparently -reserved for invited strangers. Directly one _Francis Judd_, a youth of -seventeen, was put to the bar, to be tried for the murder of his father! -There was about the very opening of this trial something stern and -awful, which the poor prisoner appeared to feel. He stood pale and -haggard, picking the sprigs of rue, which, according to custom, were -stuck in the spikes before him, and seemed simply sensible of the fact -that he was in the clutches of the law. There was a majesty about the -administration of justice here, which is utterly wanting in our courts. -The case was opened with short speeches—the witnesses were -examined—the instrument which dealt the death blow was produced, and -some bloody relics were exhibited by the policemen who had detected the -culprit. The case was clear against the lad, but he looked stupidly -on. Then came the summing up. His counsel admitted the deed, -but claimed that it was only manslaughter. The judge told the -jury it was for them to say whether it was murder or not. They conferred -awhile—they looked at the prisoner, and he at them—they gave their -verdict—_manslaughter_. Baron Alderson, who seemed to have his black -cap just ready to put on, thrust it aside, and lifting his glass to his -eye, to survey the poor wretch, said:—“Francis Judd, the jury have -found you guilty of manslaughter. For my own sake, and far more for -yours, I thank God they have. Had it been a verdict of murder, I could -not have found fault with it, and my duty would have been more, far -more, painful than it is now. I have looked in vain for proper signs of -emotion in you during this trial. I am sorry you have not shown some -feelings of horror at your awful guilt. A father’s slaughter! The weapon -with which you struck the old man’s gray head brought before your eyes, -and even the covering of his pillow, stained with the blood! Poor youth, -he may have been stern with you, but still he was your father. Your -punishment will be severe, but it will give you time to meditate and -repent—the sentence of the court is, that you be transported for life.” -The whole trial had just taken one hour and a half by the watch. Yet all -had been fair, and merciful. What a contrast to an American trial! -Francis Judd was then removed, and soon another culprit, bullet-headed -and brute featured, was standing in his place. I had seen enough, and, -bowing to Judge Talfourd, I took my departure. I passed St. ’Pulchre’s, -whose bell still tolls the knell of the convicts, and whose solemn clock -is their last measure of time. - -I went into the crypts of one of the old London Churches, to survey its -Norman architecture, and there found myself standing amid piles of -coffins, of all sizes and descriptions. Open gratings let in the light -from the streets, and disclosed the passers-by, who seemed unconscious -of the fact, that catacombs were so near. I never was in such an awful -place before. The smell was not so bad as I should have supposed would -be the case, and chloride of lime was sprinkled liberally about. But -here were the coffins of a family, piled one upon another—a consumptive -mother, and her one, two, three, five, or six children, in successive -stages of decay. What a story it told—that pile of mortality! Here was -a coffin, so large that Goliath might lie in it. “Eight men never -carried that coffin,” said the sexton, and on it I read the name of some -beef and pork consuming Londoner, whilom a substantial pillar of the -Exchange. The sexton next brought me to a case, which he opened, -exhibiting the dried corpse of a female. “This was here,” said he, “in -the time of the great fire of London, and was then dried as you see.” -Next he came to a sort of chest, standing upright, and opening like a -closet. He opened it, and displayed two mummy-like figures, singularly -dried, and undecayed. He moved their horrid heads upon their shoulders, -and said—“They were twin brothers that were hung, sir, long ago, sir, -in George Third’s time.” I mentioned what I had seen to a friend in the -Temple. “I am surprised,” said he, “but you have seen the poor fellows -whose fate sealed that of Dr. Dodd. They are the two Perreaus hanged for -forgery in 1776; of whom Lord Mansfield said to the King—‘they must be -regarded as murdered men, if your Majesty pardons Dr. Dodd.’” - -At another time, I paid my respects to the famous “London-stone,” a -Roman relic set in the wall of St. Swithin’s, and familiar to -Shakspeareans, as the throne of the redoubtable Jack Cade. Of course, I -went to see Smithfield, reeking with smells, even when void of cattle -and swine, and donkeys, but still venerable for the fires of martyrdom -with which it was once illuminated. Hard by is St. Bartholomew’s, whose -tower once reflected the light of those flames of the Bloody Mary. So -too, I visited old St. John’s Gate, Clerkenwell, familiar from the -vignette on the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” and suggestive of Cave, and of -Johnson’s first ventures upon his patronage. I went through and through -the gate, and surveyed both sides with curious interest. There it has -stood since the Crusades, and the dust and cobwebs in its old turrets -have been gathering for ages undisturbed. An old inhabitant told me she -once opened a dark stair-way, and tried to go up, but the dry dust -nearly choked her. So lounging about, I ranged through Aldersgate, -Charterhouse-Square, and the Barbican, and, of course, to St. Giles’, -Cripplegate. There I visited the grave of Milton, once so rudely -profaned during the repairs of the Church, and still almost unmarked. -Here Cromwell was married, while as yet “guiltless of his country’s -blood,” and here lies buried Foxe, the Martyrologist. Holy Bishop -Andrewes was once incumbent of St. Giles’, and this is its fairest -memory. In the churchyard is a great curiosity, nothing less than a -portion of the old wall of London. Its foundations are of Roman origin, -and what I saw was, doubtless, built by Alfred, to keep off the Danes! I -had never seen a piece of masonry so interesting. It is a bastion of -massive structure, yet by no means formidable as the fortifications of a -city. And did the soldiers of immortal Alfred really man this wall; and -did London ever need such a bulwark against the Danes? - -My Miltonic enthusiasm being now excited, I sought out Bunhill fields, -and the Old Artillery ground, near which he once dwelt. Moreover, I -fared through Grub-street, in whose garrets have dwelt the rhyming -tribes, idealized by Hogarth’s _Distressed Poet_, from time immemorial. -Tom Moore enjoys a laugh at our American “Tiber,” formerly “Duck Creek;” -but what shall excuse the fact,—which, by the slightest substitution, I -may tell in his own line— - - “That what was _Grub_-street once is _Milton_ now!” - -The corporation of London must have made this change after a very heavy -dinner. Grub-street, however, has been always famous for very light -ones; and if Milton did verily inhabit here, in her day, it is not -surprising that Mary Powell bewailed her maiden life, and ran away into -Oxfordshire. But enough of him and her. My reader will be more gratified -to learn that on crossing to Southwark, I had no difficulty in -discovering the mean and narrow entrance to an old-fashioned court, over -which is still legible, the following inscription—“This is the inne -where Sir Jeffry Chaucer and the nine-and-twenty pilgrims lay, in their -journey to Canterbury, Anno 1383.” It was “the Tabard” then, and it is, -by some strange corruption, “the Talbot” now. Here then was that charmed -spot, from which went forth those devotees of St. Thomas-à-Becket, who -talked so merrily, and often so well; and whose quaint portraiture as it -has been preserved by genius, so embalms the peculiarities of thought, -of manners, and of language, which characterized our English -forefathers, in that marvellous age, when Wycliffe in prose, and Chaucer -in poetry, laid the foundation of our Anglo-Saxon Literature, and -scattered many goodly seeds of a reformation in religion. I was -entranced by the associations of the place, for it is yet an Old English -Inn, and looks as if it might still be the identical hostelry, built as -it is around the inn-yard, with galleries, and ancient windows, and odd -devices. It is but a halting-place for wagoners and countrymen; but, in -spite of myself, I could not resist the temptation to enter its humble -door, and order a little something, for Chaucer’s sake, to refresh a -wayfarer. - -But, to resume my rambles, behold me, by various crooks and turns, -visiting Houndsditch and Billingsgate, and St. Ethelburga’s, and St. -Helen’s. This St. Helen, by-the-way, is the mother of Constantine, and a -part of London wall she built herself; so that, from England to -“stubborn Jewry,” her architecture is her monument. I surveyed what is -left of Crosby Hall; visited “the old lady in Threadneedle-street,” -otherwise called the Bank of England; and, returning, heard the -stupendous bells of Bow in their full harmony. That day was the festival -of “the Sons of the Clergy.” I arrived at St. Paul’s in time to see the -procession entering the great western door; the Archbishop, the Bishop -of London, and the Lord Mayor, with other worshipful civic dignitaries, -making its most conspicuous part. I lingered without the choir, till the -services were quite advanced, and again had an opportunity of enjoying -the effect of the distant service, and the rich reverberations of the -dome. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - - _London Society._ - - -I have spoken of my daily occupations with little or no allusion to -that, which proved to me the chief charm of life in London, its -delightful society. It would be a poor tribute to modern civilization to -regard the social pleasures of a brilliant capital, as presenting a -secondary topic of remark; and yet so sacred are even the most public of -domestic civilities, that whatever goes on under a private roof, seems -necessarily invested with a character, to which types cannot do justice, -without, at the same time, becoming sacrilegious. The ethics of travel -are, even yet, by no means settled; for persons who should be -authorities, have been often betrayed into the setting of an example, -which, if all were free to follow it, would permit society to be -infested with hordes of literary pirates, whose flag would be fatal to -the freedoms and confidences of civilized intercourse, everywhere. On -both sides of the Atlantic such social corsairs have too frequently -paraded their spoils. It is not so much with the fear of their ignominy -before mine eyes, as in view of that Golden Rule which they have -flagrantly transgressed, that I shall restrict myself, in my narratives, -to the most general allusions to social scenes, and to the mention of -such names only as are more or less publicly known. - -One needs only a few competent letters as a passport to English -hospitality. After first introductions, the way of the stranger who -behaves himself, is as open as in his own land. Hospitality is, in fact, -a truly English virtue. Nowhere else does the word imply so much genuine -kindness. Nowhere else does it so completely make the stranger at home. -Morning, noon, and night, it follows you up with its benevolent -perseverance, and seems to exact the minimum of ceremony in return. It -does not satisfy itself with politeness; it shows you the soul of -friendship; and that, while it allows you all the freedom of a -passenger, when you might otherwise feel embarrassed by your inability -to reciprocate such proofs of good will. The truth is, there is real -heart in the civilities which are proffered, and where politeness is -rooted in sincerity, it is always considerate, inventive and unfailing. -An English gentleman, whatever his circumstances, as soon as he knows -that you are entitled to his attentions, does all that he can to make -you really happy. If his means are small he is not ashamed to offer you -the best he can give, and he is pleased with his success, if he feels -that you have accepted his hospitality in the spirit which prompted it. -Contented, self-respecting, hearty Christian love is the root of the -matter, in those true specimens of English nature, which are uppermost -in my memory, as I write, and “whatsoever things are lovely” are but the -generous product of that sound and healthful stock. Happy is he who has -made a genuine Englishman his friend, for such a friendship implies the -fullest confidence, and is a tribute to accredited integrity and worth. - -In London, during “the season,” there is an incessant round not only of -fashionable entertainments, but also of such as are indeed feasts of -reason and of soul. You are invited to breakfast at ten or eleven -o’clock, and are sure to meet an agreeable company, as few as the -Graces, or as many as the Muses. One after another the guests drop in, -in morning dress, and among them are a number of ladies who sit at table -in their bonnets, and generally add not a little to the liveliness of -the company. There is nothing, perhaps, before you besides an egg, with -your tea and toast; but the side-board is loaded with substantials, and -you have a variety of fruits to conclude the repast. The party conduct -themselves as if time were plenty, and easy conversation goes round; -your host occasionally drawing you out, on subjects upon which you are -supposed to be informed. After an hour or more, there is a general -breaking up, and Sir Somebody begs you to take a seat in his carriage, -which is waiting at the door, or Mr. Blank proposes walking with you to -the “University Club House;” or you draw off to keep some other -engagement. Ten to one you breakfast somewhere else to-morrow, as the -consequence of making yourself as little disagreeable as possible -to-day; and so it goes on to your heart’s content, through the week. - -You are invited to dinner, at any hour from five to eight, sometimes, of -course, very unceremoniously, and sometimes in full form. You go at the -hour appointed, and discover that punctuality has ceased to be -fashionable in London. I was often surprised to observe the latitude -given to guests, and taken by the cook. At dinners, everything goes on -as with us, save that there is some form in announcing the guests, and -also in placing them at table. The servant vociferously proclaims “Mr. -Green”—as he flings open the door of the drawing-room, and if for a -moment you find yourself abashed by the noise which you find yourself -making, it is afterwards very agreeable to know who is who, upon the -arrival of others. A reverend personage enters in an ecclesiastical -coat, with silk apron, or cassock, and you hear him proclaimed as “the -Lord Bishop of ——,” or as “the Dean of ——.” A pleasing, but -quiet-looking gentleman appears, under the sound of a name familiar as -that of one of her Majesty’s Cabinet Ministers. “Lord ——” is -announced, and you behold a somewhat _distingué_ figure, wearing a -glittering decoration around the neck, or upon the breast. Several -literary or professional personages complete the company; and when the -ladies are waited upon to the dining-room, you are sure to be paired -with the suitable party, and to find yourself placed with careful -reference to your insignificance or importance, as the case may be. As -to the table, the good old English courses seem to be giving way to -foreign customs, as with us. It is not unusual to sit down to flowers -and fruits, and confectionary, and to see nothing else for your dinner, -except as the soup and other dishes are brought you in succession, the -meats being carved by the servants, and all the old-fashioned notions, -as to vegetables and side dishes, very much Frenchified, and -revolutionized. Grace before meat, and after the removal of the cloth, -was always faithfully performed in the circles which I frequented; but I -was sorry to hear that this new style of serving the table has somewhat -affected those Christian proprieties, by confounding “the _egg_ and the -_apples_,” and leaving one in doubt as to where the dinner proper -begins, or where it arrives at a legitimate conclusion. - -The conversation at these dinners never seemed to me as animated as that -of breakfast parties. Even the half hour after the withdrawal of the -ladies, and the disappearance of servants, was less sociable and -sprightly. I must say, however, that I entirely disagree with the -profound Mr. Boswell, as regards the introduction of children at the -dessert, which, in my opinion, greatly enlivens such occasions. In they -come, rosy and beautiful, fresh from the nursery toilet, and bringing -joy and hilarity in their eyes and faces! The son and heir steals up to -his father; a lovely girl is permitted by mamma to come timidly to you. -I was, indeed, a little surprised at a nobleman’s table, when his boy, a -youth of twelve or fourteen, came to his side, to find the little fellow -introduced as “Lord C——,” instead of _Harry_ or _Willie_, as it would -have been with us; but, as nothing could exceed the familiar and -affectionate manner in which the title was spoken, I saw at once that it -was natural enough to others, however unwonted to my Republican ear, to -see a mere child so formally announced. After this announcement he was -called simply “C——,” as if it had been his Christian name, and I was -pleased with his simple and unaffected manners throughout. English -children appear to be “under tutors and governors,” and generally behave -with becoming deference to elder persons. I remember not a few of my -little friends in England, with real affection. Blessings, then, I say, -on the children, and may it never be unfashionable for them to be seen -amid fruit and flowers, at an American or an English table! - -I accepted a few invitations to evening parties, but what to call them I -hardly knew. The superb apartments, in which they were given, were -crammed with the company; there were perpetual exits and entrances; -cries were constantly heard below of—“Lady K——’s carriage stops the -way;” while the incessant grinding of wheels in the street proclaimed -the arrival and departure of the great and the gay, as they went the -rounds of many a similar scene during the same evening. At a splendid -residence in Piccadilly, I was presented on such an occasion to the Duke -of Wellington. He wore a plain black suit, with a star on the breast of -his coat; and when I first saw him he was standing quite apart, with a -noiseless and even retiring dignity of appearance, to which his white -head gave the chief charm. I had no idea that I was near him, till -turning suddenly, his unmistakeable figure was before me. The rooms were -one blaze of rank and fashion; but for a while I could see no one but -the old hero. When I was introduced, I could do little more than bow, -and accept his polite recognition, for he was quite deaf, and I had -observed that conversation was evidently distasteful to him. - -On another evening, just after the Queen’s State Ball, I was amused to -meet, in a similar scene, the dresses and costumes which had lately -figured at the Palace. They were of historical character, and hence -peculiarly interesting. Here was Henrietta Maria, the Queen of Charles -First, and there was a lady of the Court of Charles the Second. The -stiff court fashions of the Georges were also represented, and one could -easily imagine himself among Chesterfields and Rochesters. But, thank -God, the British Peerage, in our day, is dignified by better men, and -amid this brilliant masquerading, I first met with young Lord Nelson, so -justly beloved for his active interest in all good works, and found him -most agreeable in conversation, which, even in such an assembly, was -entirely in keeping with his character. Here, too, I saw and conversed -with the Duke of Newcastle, since an important member of the British -Ministry, but then, and always, as I feel sure from his unaffected tone -of remark, not less than from his general reputation, an earnest -Christian, anxious to be a faithful steward, and to do what he can for -the extension of the kingdom of Christ among all mankind. - -The general interest felt in this country in the author of _Ion_, may -excuse my particular mention of a party at Lady Talfourd’s, in which the -literary and legal professions were more fully represented. Here one saw -the Barons of Westminster-Hall in their proper persons, without the -burthen of robes and wigs: while moving about the rooms, one encountered -a poet or popular novelist, and not least, the amiable host himself. He -made kind inquiries concerning several of my distinguished countrymen, -and touching upon matters of law, paid a very high compliment to the -ability and legal skill with which the trial of Professor Webster had -been managed in Boston. Judge Talfourd appeared then in the prime of -life, and inspired me with respect by his modest but dignified personal -demeanour. He has since died a death, on the bench, more impressive than -that of heroes on the field. - -With regard to the tone of society in general, I think every stranger -must be struck with its elevation, whether intellectually or morally -considered. An English gentleman is generally highly educated. Society -consists of cultivated persons, male and female, whose accomplishments -are not displayed, but exist as a matter of course, and as essential to -one’s part in the duties and civilities of life. No one ventures to feel -better informed than his neighbour, and hence there is a general -deference to other men’s opinions, and a reserve in expressing one’s -own, which is highly significant of extreme civilization and refinement. -Such a state of society, however, has its drawbacks. Character often -becomes neutralized, and genius itself dulled and flattened, where to -distinguish one’s self is felt to be an impropriety, and where the -manifestation of decided thought or feeling would be eccentric, and even -rude. Hence I observed a sort of uniformity in manner and expression, -which is sometimes depressing; and when upon some private occasion, I -discovered that the smooth, quiet personage whom I had seen only in the -dull propriety in which the pressure of company had held him, like a -single stone in an arch, was a man of feeling, of taste, of varied -information, and accurate learning, I said to myself—‘what a lamentable -waste is here!’ This man who should have been enriching the world with -his stores of erudition and of reflection, has never conceived of -himself as having anything to impart, or by which his fellow-man should -profit. His accomplishments are, like his fortune and respectability, -his mere personal qualifications for a position in society, in which he -is contented merely to move, without shining, or dispensing anything -more than the genial warmth of good humour and benevolence. There are -thousands of such men in England, living and dying in the most exquisite -relish of social pleasures, and deriving daily satisfaction from their -own mental resources, but contributing nothing to the increase of the -world’s intellectual wealth, and never dreaming of their attainments as -talents which they are bound to employ. They live among educated -men—knowledge is a drug in their market: of course they know this or -that, but so does everybody else, and what have they to confer? It would -be an impertinence for them (so they seem to feel) to teach or to -dictate an opinion. Dr. Johnson has left a remark, in the records of his -biographer, upon this tendency of refinement to abase individual merit, -and I am sure a dogmatist like himself would not now be supported in -English society. So very odd and unaccountable a phenomenon, even were -his manners less forbidding, would be intolerable in intelligent -circles, to say nothing of those of splendour and fashion. England -exhibits just now the smooth and polished surface of a social condition -which has no marked inequalities. Even rank fails to create those chasms -and elevations which were once so striking and formidable. Gentlemen are -very nearly alike, whatever their antecedents. All are well-informed, -all have travelled, all are well-bred, and alike familiar with the -world. The Universities, too, have done not a little to assimilate -characters. Minds have been fashioned in one mould, and opinions shaped -by one pattern. Even language and expression, and personal carriage are -reduced to a common formula. I closely watched the pronunciation of -thorough-bred men, and often drew them into classical quotations, to -observe their delicacy in prosody, and their manner of pronouncing the -Latin. I prefer very much the German or Italian theories of classical -orthoepy; but for mere _longs and shorts_, there is no such adept as an -English tongue. They carry it into the vernacular, however, against all -analogy, and often startle an American by what seems elaborate pedantry -and affectation. You are confounded by an allusion to Longfellow’s -_Hyperion_—accent on the penultimate; or you are puzzled by the inquiry -whether any _doctrinal_ differences exist between the English and -American Churches—second syllable made studiously long! Yet the man -would be thought an intolerable ass who should display his knowledge of -purely French or Teutonic derivatives, by a similar deference to -etymology: and no one thinks of carrying out this principle in all words -of like analogy. Usage, however, with all its caprices, settles every -dispute; and we Americans have no resource but conformity, unless we -prefer to appear provincial. English usage must be the law of the -English tongue, and the fashions of the court and capital are the -standard of usage. - -Among the authors of England, I had desired to see especially Mr. Samuel -Rogers, who is now the last survivor of a brilliant literary epoch, and -whose long familiarity with the historical personages of a past -generation, would of itself be enough to make him a man of note, and a -patriarch in the republic of letters. Though now above ninety years of -age, he still renders his elegant habitation an attractive resort, and I -was indebted to him for attentions which were the more valuable, as he -was, at that time, suffering from an accident, and hence peculiarly -entitled to deny himself entirely to strangers. His house, in St. -James’s-street, has been often described, and its beautiful opening on -the Green Park is familiar from engravings. Here every Englishman of -literary note, during the last half century, has been at some time a -guest, and if its walls could but _Boswellize_ the wit which they have -heard around the table of its hospitable master, no collection of -_Memorabilia_ with which the world is acquainted, could at all be -compared with it. Here I met the aged poet, at breakfast; Sir Charles -and Lady Lyell completing the party. He talked of the past as one to -whom the present was less a reality, and it seemed strange to hear him -speak of Mrs. Piozzi, as if he had been one of the old circle at -Thrale’s. When a boy, he rang Dr. Johnson’s bell, in Bolt Court, in a -fit of ambition to see the literary colossus of the time, but his heart -failed him at the sticking point, and he ran away before the door was -opened. Possibly the old sage himself responded to the call, and as he -retired in a fit of indignation, moralizing on the growing impertinence -of the age, how little did he imagine that the interruption was a signal -tribute to his genius, from one who, in the middle of the nineteenth -century, should be himself an object of veneration as the Nestor of -Literature! - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - - _Oxford—Martyrs—Boat-race._ - - -My reader will be ready to forget London for a time; and perhaps also to -accompany me on an excursion. I went to Oxford, for a few days, to keep -some appointments, and found it far more delightful than before, as the -men were all up, and everything looking bright and lively. The trees in -the gardens and meadows were in fine leaf; and many shrubs in full -blossom, so that what Nature has done for Oxford began to be as apparent -as the enchantments it derives from Art. In the gardens of Exeter -College I observed a Virginia creeper, luxuriantly covering the walls, -and had a good opportunity of contrasting its effect with that of the -ivy, for which, in our country, it is so generally substituted. It is -certainly more cheerful, but lacks the dignity of its sullen rival. -There is a fig-tree trained against the college walls, said to be that -favourite of one of its former worthies, which a graceless Soph once -stripped of its fruit, leaving only a single fig, which he labelled, “a -fig for Dr. Kennicott.” Many are the minor traditions of Oxford, of a -similar sort. Every tree and shrub seems to have a history, and “green -memories” are here something more than a figure of speech. - -A Sunday at Oxford affords one, at least, the opportunity for constant -attendance upon Divine Service. I went, at 7 o’clock, to St. Mary’s, -where the Holy Eucharist was celebrated, and where I thankfully received -the Sacrament, with a considerable number of the parishioners, and -members of the University. After breakfast, at Jesus College, I returned -to St. Mary’s, to hear the Bampton Lecturer—Mr. Wilson, of St John’s. -The lecture was delivered, of course, before the University, the -Undergraduates filling the gallery, and the Dons the nave below. The -lecturer, preceded by the bedels, entered in company with the -Vice-Chancellor, to whom he bowed, as he turned to the pulpit stairs. -Mounting to his place, and covering his face with his cap, he offered -his private prayers, and then began the bidding-prayers, in the usual -form—making special mention of St. John’s College, and of its -benefactors, “such as were Archbishop Laud, etc.” But let no one imagine -that this was an instance of spontaneous reverence for the Anglican -Cyprian, for the lecture which followed might have moved the very bones -of the martyr in his grave, so utterly did it conflict with the -doctrines of the Church. It was evidently received with great -dissatisfaction. It was decidedly clever, as to form and structure; but -savoured of _Bunsenism_ quite too much for the taste of a genuine -Churchman. It was read in a dull, dry manner, more befitting the -doctrine than the occasion. But, I must own that I greatly admire this -way of University preaching; and the freedom of a sermon, thus -delivered, by itself, apart from the service, and as a distinct thing, -having its own time and object. Subsequently, the Church having been -emptied, and filled again by a different congregation, the parochial -service and sermon went on in all respects, as usual. Then, in the -afternoon, there was a sermon before the University, preceded by the -bidding-prayers, as in the morning; save that the preacher made special -mention of Oriel College, of which he was a member, commemorating its -benefactors, “such as were King Edward the Second, etc.” Then followed a -powerful sermon, which evidently produced a great sensation. The Church -was crowded, for the preacher was a general favourite. His manner was -earnest, and often eloquent: and, in tones of most solemn and vigorous -rebuke, he protested against the slavish dependence to which the State -seemed resolved to reduce the Church. The Gorham case seemed to be in -the preacher’s mind, and perhaps the flagrant elevation to the -Episcopate of Dr. Hampden. - -The parochial service again followed; after which I dined in the Hall of -Oriel, where I met the preacher among his old collegians, and greatly -enjoyed the company in general. After dinner, we went to service in the -College Chapel; and after this there were still services in several -places, though I did not attend them. It would have been hard to have -named an hour in the whole day when services were not going on somewhere -in this City of Holy Places. - -In the Common-room of Oriel, I met with a very agreeable person, to whom -I owed not a little of subsequent pleasure, and to whom I became warmly -attached. At his instance, during the week, I substituted the more -_recherché_ pleasure of a visit to Nuneham Courtenay, for the more -ordinary cockney pilgrimage to Blenheim. I went in his company, and in -his own carriage, and had no reason to regret my adoption of his advice. -The grounds of Nuneham are proverbial for the beauty of genuine English -landscape, and a range in this noble park affords continual prospects of -cultivated fields, and snug hamlets, and the silvery windings of the -Isis through the meads. The gardens and shrubbery are interspersed with -urns and tablets and inscriptions, in the Shenstone style, and among -them I observed a cenotaph of the poet Mason. The taste of the more -artificial charms of Nuneham is somewhat antiquated, and smacks of the -Hanoverian age, now happily departing: but it does one good to see these -things, as illustrating the period to which they belong. I was all the -time thinking of Jemmy Thomson, as I rambled among the elms and yews of -Nuneham; and especially when I came to a clump of those spreading -beeches, with smooth columnar trunks, on which his swains were wont to -endite their amatory verses. Glimpses of Oxford, which one catches now -and then, add a special charm to this noble demesne, and the Thames -glitters here and there in the view to enliven a broad survey of rural -scenery, which can hardly be said to lack anything appropriate to its -English character. The Church of Nuneham is the grand mistake. It looks -like a fane erected to the goddess of the wood, by some ancient Grecian, -and provokes something less pleasing than a smile, when one learns that -it is the successor of a genuine old English church, which was judged a -blemish to the classical charms of the house and gardens. Of the -rectory, although it is of modern design, I can speak with more -satisfaction. It is a charming residence, such as an American parson -seldom inhabits, but which one loves to see others enjoying, and -adorning with every domestic grace. Here we lunched, substantially, -concluding our repast with gooseberry-tart and cream, such as no one -ever tastes except in England; thus gaining a conception of the rich -glebe and pasturage of Nuneham, which a more sentimental tourist might -fail to carry away from a mere feast of the eye. - -We visited the parish-school, and I was particularly struck with the -neatness and order of the little academy, and not less with the -exactness of the instruction. The children of the peasantry were the -scholars, and, instead of jackets, the boys nearly all wore the little -plaited shirt of coarse brown linen, so familiar to us from pictures, -but so unlike anything worn by American children, however humble in -station. They were very closely examined by their teachers, and their -answers were generally correct. America was pointed out on the map, and -when I was introduced to the little urchins as an American, it was -amusing to see their surprise. They seemed to pity me for living so very -far away! Then they were catechized. It did me good to hear the familiar -words, so often uttered by little voices around the chancel rails of my -own parish-church, now repeated, in the same way, by these little -English Christians. Some of the subsidiary questions amused me, and not -less the answers, especially those under the phrase—“to honour and obey -the Queen, and all that are put in authority under her.” Then came the -clause—“to order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters.” “And -who are your betters?” asked the master: to which, “Lady Waldegrave,” -and other names of the gentle inhabitants of Nuneham Courtenay, were -most loyally responded. In practical matters of a more strictly -religious character, the questions and replies were highly gratifying, -and often caused the tears to spring in my eyes, in view of the manifold -blessings which such instructions cannot fail to convey to a nation, and -to the souls of all who receive them. Alas! for the schools of our -country, where the children come together under the blight of divers -creeds, or of utter unbelief, and where in solemn deference to the -spirit of sect and party, religion is daily less and less a tolerated -element in the training of immortal souls! - -We drove pleasantly back to Oxford, passing Sanford, and Cowley, and -Iffley, and stopping at the Church of Littlemore, which has been lately -much improved, and in which we found service going on. A drive into -Oxford, from almost any direction, cannot fail to please, so inspiring -is the sight of the city itself, and our return from Littlemore -afforded, at least to myself, some new and charming views of its -prominent features, which were now becoming quite familiar. - -For several days I lingered in the bewitching society of the University, -sharing its hospitalities, and daily revelling in the inspection of its -curiosities and antiquities. With what a spell does the enjoyment of -those mornings and evenings revive in my fancy as I write. A -breakfast-party at Merton, the cool breeze of the morn coming in at the -windows, fragrant from the meadows; an extemporary lunch in the crypts -of St. John’s, tapping the college beer, and inspecting the ancient -masonry of its Gothic vaults, once the substructions of a monastery; a -dinner in the lordly hall of Magdalen, with dessert and conversation in -the Common-room; an evening party at Oriel, among wits, and poets, and -divines! Who would not allow that such are substantial pleasures, -realizing “those Attic nights, and refections of the gods,” of which our -fancy is full, in the earlier enthusiasm of classical pursuits! And then -the discourse was so animating and refreshing. No hackney talk of dull -common-place sentiment, or of small-beer literature; but a roving, -haphazard, review of grave and gay together; a deep and earnest -discussion of religious themes; a sprightly dash into politics; quick -questions and replies about America, and republics, and democracies; -illustrative quotations of a fresh and spontaneous character, often -garnished with some ingenious misapplication, or original supply of -words, for the sake of sport; a sharp debate about the civil wars; a -dissection of Macaulay; a clever story of old Parr; and reviving -anecdotes of Oxford and old times; with a glow of kindly and religious -feeling in all, without cant or ostentation; these were the filling up -of successive days and nights in those halls and chambers of dear, dear -Oxford, which I cannot remember without a grateful thrill, and which I -can only put aside from covetous regret, by calm faith that “it is more -blessed to give than receive.” After all, it is in every way more worthy -of a Christian, to toil in the wilderness, than to recline in the -bowers, and to enter into the labours of by-gone generations. Yes—dear -as are the delights of a life in academic shades, and unparalleled as -are the advantages of mind and body with which Oxford ennobles her -children, I would prefer a Divinity chair at Nashotah, to a fellowship -at Magdalen, or to the richest benefice which the University can bestow. -It is hazardous to enjoy too much; and how great the responsibility in -such a world as this, of receiving anything for which we may fail to -make a return to God and men, and which must go to make our stewardship -more fearful, against the day of account! - -We have gifts differing. Far be it from me to insinuate that the life of -an Oxford Fellow is ordinarily an idle or useless one. Many of them are -as laborious and as useful men as ever wrote or thought, and great are -the blessings which they diffuse around them. Too often have their -generous hospitalities been mistaken for habitual self-indulgences; and -even guests who have tasted their wine without a murmur, have sometimes -gone away to complain of convivialities, of which they were themselves -the exacting proponents. But when the question is not as to them, but as -to ourselves, we are surely at liberty to prefer our humbler and less -favoured lot! Shall we repine because we are Americans, and because we -shall never live to see an Oxford in our own dear country? God forbid! I -love to think that it is theirs to enjoy, and mine only to remember; and -that if toil and self-denial are the lot of an American clergyman, he -is, nevertheless, fulfilling a mission more immediately like that of his -glorious Master, and less fraught with temptations to make one’s heaven -this side the grave. - -I had seen the Duke of Wellington and Samuel Rogers. There was one whom -I desired to see besides, and on some accounts, with deeper interest, to -complete my hold upon the surviving past. For sixty years had Dr. Routh -been president of Magdalen, and still his faculties were strong, and -actively engaged in his work. I saw him in his 97th year; and it seemed -as if I had gone back a century, or was talking with a reverend divine, -of the olden time, who had stepped out of a picture-frame. He sat in his -library, in gown and bands, wearing a wig, and altogether impressing me -as the most venerable figure I had ever beheld. Nothing could exceed his -cordiality and courtesy, and, though I feared to prolong my visit, his -earnestness in conversation more than once repressed my endeavour to -rise. He remembered our colonial clergy, and related the whole story of -Bishop Seabury’s visit, and of his application to the Scottish Church, -which Dr. Routh himself first suggested. ‘And now,’ said I, ‘we have -thirty Bishops and 1,500 clergy.’ He lifted his aged hands, and said, “I -have, indeed, lived to see wonders,” and he added devout expressions of -gratitude to God, and many inquiries concerning our Church. I had -carried an introduction to him from the Rev. Dr. Jarvis, and at the same -time, announced the death of that lamented scholar and divine, whose -funeral I had attended a few days before I sailed from America. He spoke -of him with affection and regret, and also referred to his great regard -for Bishop Hobart. I could not say farewell to such a patriarch, in the -meaningless forms of ordinary intercourse, and, as I rose to depart, I -craved his blessing, and humbly knelt to receive it. He placed his -venerable hand upon my head, and said—“God Almighty bless you, for -Jesus Christ’s sake,” and so I took my departure, with my heart full, -and with tears in my eyes. - -Going, quite alone, to St. John’s College, I indulged myself in -delightful meditations as I lounged in its gardens, and watched the -young gownsmen shooting arrows at a target, or enjoying themselves about -the walks. I went into the quadrangle, that munificent monument of -Laud’s affection for his beloved college. I passed on to the chapel. The -door was not locked, and I entered it alone. Beneath the altar lies the -Archbishop’s mutilated corpse; and there, too, lies the stainless Juxon, -whom he loved so well, and who served the last moments of Charles the -First with the holy offices of the Church. I gave myself up to the -powerful impressions of the spot, and spent a few minutes in very solemn -meditations. In the library of the college I afterwards saw the pastoral -crook of the martyred Primate; the little staff which supported his -tottering steps on the scaffold, and the cap which covered his venerable -head only a few minutes before it fell from the block. - -In the street, before Balliol College, the martyrs Latimer and Ridley -were burned. Perhaps the precise spot is not known; but among the -paving-stones, there is fixed in the earth a little cross, sunk to a -level with the street, and simply designating the supposed site of the -stake. It was one of my pleasures, during this visit to Oxford, to meet -with Bishop Otey, then just arrived from America; and I had the pleasure -of conducting that excellent missionary prelate to this sacred spot of -suffering for Christ. I shall never forget the enthusiasm with which he -uncovered his head, as he stood there, and blessed God for the testimony -of His Martyrs; and I am sure he will forgive this allusion to the -scene, for it greatly impressed me at the time, and even now seems very -striking. “We shall this day light such a candle, by God’s grace, as -shall never be put out”—said old Latimer to Ridley, in 1555, and in -spite of fire and faggot, and Armada, and Gunpowder plot, and Father -Petrie, and Father Newman, there stood in 1851, the Bishop of Tennessee, -blessing God for the light of that candle in the wilds of America! A -superb memorial of the three Oxford Martyrs stands not far from the -place where they suffered—and should have stood just here, where it -would have been more conspicuous and appropriate—but I felt that such -an incident far more powerfully attested the prophecy. How strange it -seemed, in St. Mary’s, on the preceding Sunday, to reflect that from -those very aisles, not longer since than three such lives as Dr. Routh’s -might measure, the venerable Primate of all England had been ruthlessly -dragged forth, by the hands of brethren in the priesthood, and by the -same hands burnt to death, hard by, with the mockery of thanksgiving to -God, and in the name of zeal for His glory! Truly, Rome may thank -herself for the abhorrence with which the universal Anglo-Saxon race -(among whom a few emasculate exceptions are not to be reckoned,) regard -alike her blandishments and her cruelties. - -How rapidly flew the hours in which I lounged in the Bodleian and other -libraries, or went from college to college, to inspect its pictures and -antiquities! Here, a manuscript of Cædmon, which the Anglo-Saxon -professor kindly interpreted to me as I inspected it; and there, a -_Chaucer_, and “the Game of Chesse,” from the primitive press of Caxton, -exposed to my admiring gaze the small beginnings of the wonderful -Literature of the English tongue. In the Ashmolean Museum I beheld, with -still greater reverence, the jewel once worn by the immortal Alfred, to -which I felt that Victoria’s _Koh-i-noor_ was but a twinkling and -lack-lustre pendant. In the curious old muniment-room of Merton, I was -scarcely less pleased to behold the venerable charters and patents, -engrossed in ancient characters, and sealed with quaint historic seals, -by which their lands and hereditaments are still retained, and from -which the whole Collegiate System of Oxford is derived. The chapel of -this charming college is worthy of the noble foundation to which it -belongs; and, as my amiable _cicerone_ was an accomplished architectural -artist and antiquarian, I was not allowed to inspect its details -superficially. His own hand had, very recently, restored the elaborate -decorations of the vaulting, in beautiful colours and designs; and he -appeared to appreciate the high privilege which he had enjoyed, of -mingling his own handiwork, in this manner, with that of ancient and -inventive genius. His mediæval tastes had perhaps become a hobby with -him; I observed, with pain, some morbid symptoms of unreality in his -excessive devotion to the mere æsthetics of religion; but did not then -suppose, as since has proved the sad result, that he was destined to add -another to those children of the captivity, who, by the rivers of -Babylon, have so estranged themselves from Sion, that their tongue seems -indeed to have been smitten with the palsy of untruth, and their right -hand to have forgotten its cunning. - -I saw, one pleasant evening, the first boat-race of the season. Going -into Christ Church Meadows, in company with several gownsmen, we soon -joined a crowd of under-graduates, and others who were seeking the banks -of the Isis. The rival boats were still far up the stream, but here we -found their flags displayed upon a staff, one above the other, in the -order of their respective merit, at the last rowing match. The flag of -Wadham waved triumphant, and the brilliant colours of Balliol, Christ -Church, Exeter, etc., fluttered scarce less proudly underneath. What an -animated scene those walks and banks exhibited, as the numbers -thickened, and the flaunting robes of the young academics began to be -seen in dingy contrast with the gayer silks and streamers of the fair! -Even _town_, as well as _gown_, had sent forth its representatives, and -you would have said some mighty issue was about to be decided, had you -heard their interchange of breathless query and reply. A distant gun -announced that the boats had started, and crowds began to gather about a -bridge, in the neighbouring fields, where it was certain they would soon -be seen, in all the speed and spirit of the contest. Crossing the little -river in a _punt_, and yielding to the enthusiasm which now filled the -hearts and faces of all spectators, away I flew towards the bridge, and -had scarcely gained it when the boats appeared—Wadham still ahead, but -hotly pressed by Balliol, which in turn was closely followed by the -crews of divers other colleges, all pulling for dear life, while their -friends, on either bank, ran at their side, shouting the most -inspiriting outcries! The boats were of the sharpest and narrowest -possible build, with out-rigged thole-pins for the oars. The rowers, in -proper boat-dress, or rather undress, (close-fitting flannel shirt and -drawers,) were lashing the water with inimitable strokes, and “putting -their back” into their sport, as if _every man_ was indeed determined -_to do his duty_. “Now, Wadham!” “Now, Balliol!” “Well pulled, Christ -Church!” with deafening hurrahs, and occasional peals of laughter, made -the welkin ring again. I found myself running and shouting with the -merriest of them. Several boats were but a few feet apart, and stroke -after stroke not one gained upon another, perceptibly. Where there was -the least gain, it was astonishing to see the pluck with which both -winner and loser seemed to start afresh; while redoubled cries of “Now -for it, Merton,” “Well done, Corpus,” and even “Go it, again”—which I -had supposed an Americanism—were vociferated from the banks. All at -once—“a bump!” and the defeated boat fell aside, while the victors -pressed on amid roars of applause. The chief interest, however, was, of -course, concentrated about “Wadham,” the leader, now evidently gained -upon by “Balliol.” It was indeed most exciting to watch the half-inch -losses which the former was experiencing at every stroke! The goal was -near; but the plucky Balliol crew was not to be distanced. A stroke or -two of fresh animation and energy sends their bow an arm’s length -forward. “Hurrah, Balliol!” “once more”—“a bump!” “Hurrah-ah-ah!” and a -general cheer from all lungs, with hands waving and caps tossing, and -everything betokening the wildest excitement of spirits, closed the -contest; while amid the uproar the string of flags came down from the -tall staff, and soon went up again, with several transpositions of the -showy colours—Wadham’s little streamer now fluttering _paulo-post_; but -victorious Balliol flaunting proudly over all. It was growing dark; and -it was surprising how speedily the crowd dispersed, and how soon all -that frenzy of excitement had vanished like the bubbles on the river. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - - _Iffley—A Drive Across the Country._ - - -A visit to Magdalen School, and a subsequent dinner with the scholars, -(who are the singers in the chapel), was another of my pleasures, from -which I derived fresh convictions of the superior training of English -school-boys, alike in physical, mental, and moral discipline. Everything -was done with method and precision. The boys looked fresh and rosy, and -perfectly happy, and yet their master was as evidently strict with them, -as he was also kind. Some of them will win scholarships in the college, -and from that, fellowships; and so will make their way to the highest -posts of honour and usefulness, for which they will be thoroughly -furnished in all respects. There is a new Educational College at Radley, -several miles from Oxford, of which the projector and founder is the -well-known Mr. Sewell, of Exeter—by whose kind invitation I went out, -one day, to visit it. I was kindly accompanied by a distinguished Fellow -of Oriel, who with several young men, whom he had enlisted for the -purpose, gave me a row up the Thames to Iffley. We took our boat, in -Christ Church meadows, and so went over the scene of the race which I -have endeavoured to describe. I was unfortunately made steersman, and -more than once found myself running the bow of the boat into the bushes, -while I stared around me, at every beast and bird, and at every wall, -and every bush, and at every green thing, with a greener look no doubt, -to my unlucky companions, than anything in the scene besides. It was the -Thames—or the Isis if you please—it was the river of the Oxonians; and -I lost myself, in contemplations, on the most trifling suggestion of -novelty, or of age, which surrounding objects presented. This little -voyage was realizing to me the dreams of many years; and when we landed -near the picturesque old mill, with which so many drawings and -engravings have made every one acquainted, I felt that anything but my -pilotage was to be credited with our escape from shipwreck. My -conscience accuses me of having paid attention to everything except my -immediate duty. - -Iffley Church, as every Ecclesiologist will tell you, is a study of -itself. Five windows in this Church are said to present the -characteristics of five periods of pointed architecture, extending -through as many centuries; while the details of enrichment and design -afford innumerable specimens of inventive art, embracing somewhat of the -rude and elemental Saxon, with the riper and more varied beauties of -Norman embellishment. The church is supposed to have been built in the -earlier part of the twelfth century; it affords many interesting -examples of subsequent alteration and repair; and has lately received -much attention, in the way of retouching and restoring its olden -beauties. In the churchyard is the remnant of its ancient cross, and -also a yew tree scarcely less aged, but much decayed. The font, which -stands near the door, is of large dimensions and of very curious -construction, generally supposed to be Norman, and of the same date with -the Church. Although the beautiful interior retains some useless -appendages of mediæval rites no longer practised, it is a most fitting -and becoming Anglo-Catholic church, and one in every way satisfactory, -as it stands, to the purposes of the English Liturgy. Without and -within, it was, at the time I visited it, the most interesting object of -its kind which I had ever seen. - -On resuming our boat, which had been lifted above the dam by means of a -lock, we rowed about a mile further up the river, and then, taking to -the fields, went across them to Radley. Here I met Mr. Sewell, and went -with him to see Radley Church, a picturesque little temple, and then -over his college, chapel and grounds. This college is a very interesting -experiment, and aims to combine, on a plan somewhat novel, several -important elements of academic and religious life. The taste which has -presided over its establishment is very apparent, and not less the -benevolence and piety of its founder. I was surprised to find it, -although so entirely new, presenting everywhere the appearance of age -and completeness. The architecture of the chapel especially, though -plain in comparison with that of almost all older structures of a -similar kind, is yet very effective; and the service, as performed in -it, by the aid of the pupils, was exceedingly inspiring and refreshing. -After a visit which I was kindly led to protract beyond my intent, I -returned to Oxford on foot, in the company of Mr. Sewell. Our path lay -through Bagley-Wood, and never shall I forget the charming -conversational powers of my guide, or the pleasure of wandering, with -such a companion, through the tangled and briery copse, and intervening -glades of that academic forest. At last we struck the Abingdon road, and -entered Oxford by the bridge under the Tower of Magdalen. - -Amid so many recollections of a graver character, there is one connected -with Oxford which never revives without exciting a smile. I went one day -into the _House of Convocation_, where the Vice-Chancellor was -conferring degrees, in a business way, very few, besides those -immediately interested, being present. Among the candidates was one very -portly individual, who, either from his advancing years, or because of -some new preferment, had felt it his duty to incur the expense of being -made, in course, a Doctor of Divinity. It was evidently many years since -the proposing Doctor had been familiar with University forms and -ceremonies; and it appeared to me that some very rustic parish had -probably, in the meantime, enjoyed the benefit of his services. When the -performance required him to do this, or that, it was apparent that the -worthy divine was not a little confused, while it was still more -painfully clear, that his confusion afforded anything but feelings of -regret to the junior portion of the academical body which surrounded -him. When required to kneel before a very youthful looking proctor, an -audible titter went the rounds, as his burly figure sank to the floor, -amid the balloons of silk with which he was invested, to say nothing of -the gaudy colours which he now wore, for the first time, with -ill-suppressed satisfaction. But the _Oath of Abjuration_ was to be -administered, and this proved the most critical part of the proceedings: -for, oath as it was, it was made almost a farcical formality, by the -manner in which it was taken. As this oath is a little antiquated, at -any rate, and seems hardly demanded by the present relations between a -powerful sovereign and the mere shadow of a pontiff who now apes -Hildebrand, on the Seven Hills, it would seem good taste to go through -with it with as little display of furious Protestantism as possible. So -evidently thought the proctor, but not so the Doctor elect, whose -powerful imagination probably suggested to him that Victoria was Queen -Elizabeth, and Dr. Wiseman a Babbington, as no doubt he is. If her -Majesty labours under similar impressions, she has at least one loyal -subject, and it would have done her heart good to have heard the -utterance of his loyalty on this occasion; for with most earnest -emphasis did he swear, that “he did from his heart detest and abjure, as -impious and heretical, that damnable doctrine and position, that princes -excommunicated by the Pope, _may be deposed or murthered by their -subjects_,” &c., &c. So, no doubt, thought and felt all present; but as -the Doctor seemed to consider himself, for the moment, a sort of Abdiel, -and spoke with an epic dignity somewhat unusual to the Convocation -house, it was irresistibly ludicrous to behold the smothered merriment -of the youthful Oxonians, who shook their sides while the Doctor -fulmined, and who seemed to think both him and the Pope a little too old -for Young England and the nineteenth century. - -My excursion to Nuneham Courtenay proved but the preface to a much more -important episode, in company with the same agreeable friend who was my -guide on that occasion, and who now drew me into a change of plans and -purposes, to which I owed much subsequent pleasure. We were at breakfast -together, in the rooms of a common friend at Merton, when the scheme was -perfected for a drive through Oxfordshire, in his private carriage, and -for several subsequent excursions, of which the centre should be his -residence, near Cheltenham. A friend, then keeping his terms for a -Master’s degree, at New Inn Hall, gave us his company for a few hours, -on the way; and a delightful companion he proved, not only for his -essential qualities as such, but because he happened to have been a -tourist in America, and was able to imagine, in some degree, how an -American must regard the contrast continually furnished him by a tour in -England. Our road first took us over a corner of Berkshire, through a -pleasing variety of hills and vales, sighting Cumnor on the left, and -passing Wytham on the other hand, and so again entering Oxfordshire, by -a bridge over the Thames, which here makes a bend among the little -mountains. Our first stage was complete when we arrived at Eynsham, -where we drew up at the village inn, and contrived to pass an hour very -pleasantly, although, from the appearance of the place, one would say, -at first, it was fit only to sleep in. How quiet a village can be, even -in populous and busy England, and so hard by Oxford! There stood the -slender market-cross that had survived the storms of centuries, and the -more violent batterings of Puritan iconoclasts. Broken and bruised as it -was, it seemed good for centuries more, amid so peaceful a community as -now surrounds its venerable tutelage. Whether the exemplary character of -the present inhabitants be owing at all to the parish stocks, which -stand near the cross, in most Hudibrastic grouping with surrounding -objects, I cannot determine; but there they are, and I could fancy a -stout brace of Puritans, of Butler’s sort, undergoing its salutary -penance; or even one of Hogarth’s unlucky wights experiencing the rude -sympathies of men and boys in the passiveness of its bondage. How -speaking a picture of rigorous parochial justice those queer old stocks, -under lee of the market-house, afforded to my imagination! How many -vagrant feet and ankles have there been relieved from the curse of Cain! -how many a vagabond they have furnished with persuasives to rest and -meditation! Really—one could not be properly pensive, in sight of such -a commentary on human guilt and misery: for the parish stocks are but of -distant kin to gallows and guillotine, and hardly more than little -brothers of whipping-post and pillory; their ignominy being rather that -of ridicule than of scorn, and their severity being the very least of -all the penalties of law. I did not know that such instruments of -wholesome discipline were still in existence under the English sceptre, -and hence my amusement and surprise to behold them, and to find so many -memories of their history reviving at the sight; among which were -prominent those classical verses of the Anti-Jacobin— - - “Justice Oldmixen put me in the parish- - Stocks, for a vagrant.” - -Verily a queer old place is Eynsham, from the days of King Ethelred, the -Unready, who had a villa here, and those of King Stephen, who gave it -the very equivocal privilege of a market “on the Lord’s day,” under the -patronage of its Abbot and its monks. On inquiring for the remains of -the Abbey, we were informed that some new relics of its ancient chapel -and cemetery had just been discovered in a neighbouring field. We had -therefore the pleasure of seeing, sure enough, the encaustic tiles of -its sanctuary, just laid bare, after ages of concealment in the earth. -They were of various patterns and devices, St. George and the Dragon -forming, apparently, a conspicuous part of the design. But the old -gardener who showed us these discoveries, went on to tell us that in -digging further, he had just laid bare some _frames_ which he should -like to have us see, and so leading us to another part of the ground, he -showed us _the frames_, indeed, which proved to be nothing less than the -skeletons of the old monks of Eynsham, protruding from their graves. -Often had these same “frames” sung in the choir, and walked over those -same tiles we had just been viewing. How old they might be we could not -say; but they were the bones of old Christians, and most probably of -Christian priests, and there they had been laid in hope of the -Resurrection, so that it seemed to me almost profane to be staring at -them, as if they were a show. _Requiescant in pace._ - -The village church had been an appurtenance of the Abbey, and was, no -doubt, comely in its day. It had suffered not a little, however, from -whitewash, and other _Churchwarden-isms_. There had evidently been a -fine rood-loft, but every vestige of it was gone, save that there was -the solid stair-way in the wall, and there again the door-way, still -open, through which the ancient Gospeller used to make his appearance in -the loft, to read the Holy Evangel for the day. ‘Poor fellow,’ thought -I, ‘when did he climb those steps, and issue from that door, for the -last time? Was he indeed a Gospeller, grateful for a chance thereafter -to read the Word of God, in the vulgar tongue; or was he some Marian -Monk, who had raked the coals about Latimer and Ridley, in Oxford, and -who trembled, while he sung his Latin Missal, lest the news of -Elizabeth’s accession should prove too true?’ How strange it would seem -to an American priest, to find himself officiating, Sunday after Sunday, -in a church whose very walls are a monument, not only of the -Reformation, but of “Hereford Use,” and “Salisbury Use,” or other usages -now forever superseded, but which had a long existence, and have left -their mark, alike in stone and timber, and in the vernacular Liturgy of -the Church of England! - -We left the little village, and pursued our journey very pleasantly till -we met the Oxford coach coming down, in full drive, but stopping as we -hailed it, in behalf of our friend of New Inn Hall. He was obliged to -return, for sleeping a single night out of Oxford, during his term, -would disqualify him for his degrees. So we reluctantly saw him climb to -a lofty seat, among a motley crew of passengers, and whirl away, as we -waved him our adieu. We continued our journey to Witney, where again we -paused, to survey its ancient cruciform Church—which would make a fine -cathedral in America—and to take our luncheon with the good vicar, who -received us very hospitably. I was surprised at the greatness of the -Church, and the beauty of many of its details, but I believe it was once -an Abbey Church, and its architectural merits are such as to have -furnished not a few favourite examples to ecclesiological publications. -The village itself is a decayed one, having formerly been of consequence -as the seat of a famous blanket manufacture, which made “Witney” a -household word with housewives, especially in cold weather. Our drive -next brought us to Minster-Lovel, the scene of the “Old English Baron;” -and next to a “deserted village,” which looked as little like Auburn as -possible, for it had been built by a pack of infidels, to show the world -what a village ought to be, and so had speedily become as dead as -Pompeii. It was now “for sale,” but no one seemed disposed to buy, and I -suspect it may yet be had at a bargain. England is no soil for fools to -flourish in; and it is a pity that when they find it out, they are so -wont to come to America, where they join the Mormons, or set up for -superfine republicans, and vent their hatred of England in our -newspapers, which are then quoted by the writers in the _London Times_, -as proof of American feelings towards the mother country. - -The country we were now traversing had once been scoured by the troopers -of the fiery Rupert, and my friend, whom I will call Mr. V——, finding -my enthusiasm rising at the mention of his clarion and jack-boots, began -to play upon me by suggesting that some mounds which we saw in the -distance were the remains of one of his encampments. This was a very -fine idea, but, resolved to hunt up the local traditions with respect to -it, I asked a passing boor if he could tell me anything about the -barrows. Oh, for a page of “the Antiquary,” to give my reader some -conception of the effect produced by the reply! “Prætorian -here—Prætorian there,” said old Edie Ochiltree, “I mind the bigging -o’t;” and with equal bathos responded my boor—“Them there be some old -brick-yards!” “Alas!” cried I—“it is Monkbarns and castrametation, over -again;” and a laugh arose from the Oxford pilgrims, at which the boor -startled, and fled away, no doubt with strong persuasion that we were a -pair of madmen, just broke loose from the deserted settlement aforesaid, -of which, I should have mentioned, the neighbouring peasantry seemed to -entertain a very wholesome fear. - -Commend me to Burford, our next halting-place, as a village of most -exemplary independence of this nineteenth century. Some old houses, -which struck me as I entered it, bore an inscription by which I learned -that a good burgess built them for a charitable use in the time of Queen -Elizabeth. I should think no house had been built in Burford since that -date, so entirely unlike a modern town is its chief street, with all its -lanes and by-ways. Here, now, was England—the England we read of! None -of your Manchesters and Liverpools, but an innocent, sleepy old village -that was of vast repute when those snobbish places were unknown. Here -met a Church Synod, A. D., 685, to settle the question about the British -Easter usages, and here worthy Peter Heylin was born in 1600. The little -river Windrush runs through the place, and on its banks stands the -ancient Church of St. John the Baptist, to which we repaired forthwith. -Here we found an unexpected treat, in the exceeding richness of its -Norman architecture, and in the many delicate traces of its former -perfection, which had escaped the ravages of time. The tower and spire, -the south porch and the windows, afforded a most entertaining and -instructive study. Some old inscriptions remained, entreating the -passer-by to pray for the departed soul of such and such benefactors. -The interior enchanted me. Here was a “Silvester aisle,” in which, for -generation after generation, certain worthies of that name have been -buried under costly monuments, most curious to behold. But what pleased -me most was one of those huge monuments, like an ancient state-bed, with -canopy and posts complete, on which lay, side by side, a worthy knight -and his dame, persons of a famous repute under Queen Elizabeth, and the -grand-parents of the stainless Falkland. “Sir Launcelot Tanefield” was -the name of the knight, and if I mistake not, he was, at one time, Lord -Chief Justice of England, and Burford was his native place. From this -charming old Church I could hardly tear myself away. I suspect few -travellers have visited it, and I congratulated myself on having met -with such a friend as V——, to draw me out of the beaten track, and -show me something of England, that is England still. - -Continuing our journey, we passed an old Manor house, picturesquely -seated in a valley, at which I could have looked contentedly for an -hour, so entirely did it answer to my ideas of many a manorial -residence, which had pleased my boyish fancy, in novels and romances. -Next we passed Barrington Park, the seat of Lord Dynevor, and soon -after, another beautiful park, the seat of Lord Sherborne. And now, our -journey lay over one of the Cotswold hills, which reminded me somewhat -of a drive over Pokono, in Pennsylvania, so lonely and even wild did it -seem, in comparison with the country we had just been traversing. We -came to North Leach, where again we alighted to survey a Church, perched -on a rising ground, above the houses of the village, which are mostly -very old, with curious gables, and built along narrow lanes, in very -primitive style. This Church had suffered more from accidental causes, -than that at Burford, but was scarcely less interesting to me. Its -curious gurgoyles particularly arrested my attention, and within, some -good brasses, and other monuments. It has a fine porch, and its general -architecture seems of a period somewhat between the decorated and the -perpendicular. We were now in Gloucestershire, and I shall never forget -that it was in passing over a hill near Stow-on-the-Wold, that I first -heard the nightingale. “There,” said V——, “there is Philomela! not -mourning, but wooing; ’tis her love-note”—and I listened with a sense -of enchantment. Perhaps I was in the mood to be delighted, for certainly -I had never spent a day in such charming travel before, and I was -conscious of a pleasure, which I cannot describe, arising from the -realization of my dreams, in forecasting, through a long series of -years, such a journey through England. - -In descending the Cotswold hills, I caught, here and there, some -enchanting views; little churches perched upon the brows of hillocks, or -half buried in the vales; or farm-houses and cottages not less -beautifully situated; or the seats of country squires and other gentry, -embosomed amid trees, or lifting their chimnies above a few lordly elms. -But the charm of all was yet reserved for me; and just after sunset, as -we wound around a broad hillside, I came upon a scene, at which, it -seemed to me, I might have gazed all my life without weariness or -satiety. ‘Stop—stop! my dear V——, where are you driving?’ said I, -beseeching him to rein up, and let me look for a few minutes on as -perfect a picture of English scenery as ever Gainsborough portrayed, all -spread before us, without a blemish; its lights and shadows just as an -artist would have them; and yet vivid with nature, beyond all that an -artist could create. The time, remember, was evening, in one of its -sweetest effects of sky and atmosphere, cool and calm; the lighter -landscape deeply green; the shadows brown and dying into night; the -water shining here like burnished steel, and there lying in shade, as -darkly liquid as a dark eye in female beauty. The view was a narrow -dell, just below the road, in which stood an old manor house, ivied to -its chimney tops, and encircled by a moat. Smoke of the most delicate -blue was floating thinly from its chimnies, into the clear air; and just -at hand was peeping, from a dense growth of trees, the belfry of a very -tiny Church, which seemed to be there only on purpose to complete the -picture. Cattle were grazing in the meads, and under a vast and sombre -yew tree, sat a group of farm-servants, shearing the largest sheep of -the flock, the wool flaking off upon the green grass, like driven snow. -While we gazed on this living picture, with mute pleasure, the soft -notes of a bird added sweet sounds to the enchantment of sight, and I -sat, as in a spell, without speaking a word. My friend V—— himself, -who had been laughing at me all day, for my enjoyment of what to him -were common and unsuggestive objects, fairly gave up at this point, and -owned it was a sight to make one in love with life. Even now I have -lying before me a letter in which he refers to this view of “the -sheep-shearing,” and concludes by the pathetic announcement that the -horse to which we were indebted for that day’s progress, has since been -sold to a coach proprietor, and now runs leader from Evesham to -Stratford. “Little thinks he,” continues the letter, “as the lash of the -cruel Jehu touches his flank, of the classic ground he travels; little -recks he of Harry of Winchester, Simon de Montfort, or our friend -Rupert—for Rupert had a desperate struggle thereabouts—or yet of Queen -Bess, as he enters Bedford, in Warwickshire, or even of the immortal -Will, as he halts at Stratford.” - -So winding down our road, amid firs and oaks, and enjoying new beauties -at every turn, we came through Charlton Kings, into the broad and -teeming vale, adorned by modern Cheltenham. It is a noble amphitheatre, -to which the bold outline of the Cotswold hills gives dignity, and which -abounds with minor charms on every side. I was soon lodged at my friend -V——’s, after due introduction to his family, including a visit to the -nursery, where some lovely children were allowed to salute me with their -innocent kisses, and thus to make me sure of a welcome to their father’s -house. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - - _Worcester—Malvern—Gloucester._ - - -My first excursion with my friend V——, was to Worcester and Malvern. -In Worcester of course the great attraction is the cathedral, and -thither we went immediately upon our arrival, and found Service going -on. We lingered without the choir, and listened to the anthem, as it -rose from the voices within; and then, as the prayers went on, in the -monotone of chaunting, varied by the occasional cadence of the priest, -and the sweet response of the singers, we had an opportunity of worship -which I trust was not only enjoyed, but reverently appropriated in -devotion. Service ended, the verger, with his mace, issued from the -doors of the choir, preceding the singers in their surplices, and the -residentiary canons—far too feeble a force, however, for a cathedral, -in which “the spirit of a living creature” should always be “within the -wheels,” giving motion and reality to the routine of daily prayers, and -fasts, and festivals. There is no excuse for the present condition of -the English cathedrals. They require the most thorough reforms to make -them felt as blessings. At Worcester I began to feel that such was the -case, and the painful conviction increased upon me, throughout my -subsequent tour. - -We now surveyed the venerable temple, and experienced the usual -annoyance of the verger’s expositions. Here was the monument of King -John; and there the chapel tomb of Arthur, Prince of Wales, the first -husband of Queen Katherine of Arragon. Here, too, are shown the statues -of St. Oswald, an early bishop of this see, and of Wolstan, another -bishop who laid the foundation of the existing cathedral, in the -eleventh century. The choir is impressive, but the eastern window struck -me as too predominantly green, and altogether as somewhat kaleidoscopic. -Among the more modern monuments, a small bas-relief, by Bacon, struck me -as very meritorious. A widow with her three children gathered about her, -and bending to the storm of sorrow, was the fitting memorial of a -departed husband and father. Or was it that the group reminded me of the -treasures of my own far-off home, and of the scene which an Atlantic -storm might so easily create around the fireside that would be trimmed -for my return! At any rate, it touched me, and reminded me that I was in -a house of prayer, where ejaculations might be wafted from the heart, -and answered three thousand miles away. Other associations made me pause -before the tomb of Bishop Hough, that brave old president of Magdalen, -to whose resistance of the Popish James I have referred before. The -sculpture is by Roubilliac, but is free from the usual affectations of -that artist; and the scene in Magdalen College is represented on the -base of the monument. We lingered about the exterior for some time, and -were particularly struck with the flying buttresses of the choir, as the -most pleasing portion of the venerable structure. After a visit to one -of the prebendal residences in the cloisters, we loitered about the town -for an hour, and then took the top of the stage-coach for Malvern. - -Several coaches were starting at the same time for diverse points of the -compass, and here we had before us something of the moribund system of -travel of the days of George the Fourth. The flaming red liveries of the -whip and the guard, with the notes of the bugle as we whirled over the -Severn, gave one a sense of the poetry of locomotion which suggested -some foolish sighs over the achievements of invention, and the age of -the rail. However, it was something to be thankful for, that there was -as yet no tunnel under Malvern hills. Crack went the whip—and away -sprung the horses, and very soon the tower of the cathedral was all we -could see of Worcester. We passed the Teme, and drove through Powick and -Mather. The fields were fragrant with the blossoms of the bean; the open -road-side was garnished with flowering furze; and the cottages stood -forth, neat and comfortable, amid embowering laburnums, and lilacs, and -guelder-roses. ‘Ah, yes—I grant you, England is a beautiful country, -but you Englishmen don’t know how to enjoy it half as much as your -American cousins; not that we have not glorious scenery at home, but -that we have no such garden, as England seems to be, from one sea to the -other.’ So I said to my companion. - -We ascended the Malvern hills, on a brisk trot, by a good road -stretching along the face of the hills, and soon entered the smart and -showy town of Great Malvern itself, which overhangs the charming vale of -Gloucester, and affords a view of the winding Severn, and many beautiful -villages, churches, and seats. The towers of several abbeys, with those -of the cathedrals of Gloucester and Worcester, adorn the prospect, and -the distant ridge of the Cotswolds completes the picture. The Abbey -Church of Great Malvern proved, of itself, sufficient to reward our -visit to the place, but my friend V——, found at one of the hotels, a -party of his friends enjoying a brief sojourn in this delightful -retreat, for the benefit of its air and springs—for “Ma’vern,” as -everybody knows, is a fashionable watering-place. Good reason have I to -remember the spot where I first met the amiable W——s, to whose -subsequent attentions I owed so much pleasure on my northern tour; and I -trust they too may be willing to remember our holiday at Malvern. I was -particularly gratified with the adventurous spirit of the ladies, who -insisted on doing us the honours of the place, considering us as their -guests. Under their kindly guidance we climbed the hills, and visited -the Holy Well, and the well of St. Ann’s, and finally reached the summit -of the Malverns, where we gained a magnificent sight into Herefordshire, -and could see to the best advantage the nearer beauties of the vale of -the Severn. We walked along the ridge, pausing to rest awhile, and to -enjoy the scenery, near the Worcestershire beacon, and so passing down -on the Hereford side, and returning through a gap called the Wych, we -parted with our fair guides at Malvern Wells, and taking a post-chaise -started on a delightful drive across the valley. - -It was a beautiful afternoon, and our route took us through a great -variety of country scenes. Now we skirted the base of the Malverns; and -now reached the picturesque Church of Little Malvern; and now descended, -amid overhanging trees, into the valley of the Severn, partly darkened -by the stretching shadow of the hills, and partly glittering with -reflections of the descending sun. My friend V——, who seemed to have -friends everywhere, was so well acquainted with the neighbouring gentry, -that he was quite at liberty to enliven our drive, by leaving the high -road and crossing the park of this or that beautiful residence which -happened to lie in our way. Thus we gained fine views of several elegant -mansions and their surrounding grounds. At the lodge of one of these -parks, as we entered, I was struck with a curious tree, called the -peacock yew, from the showy _pavonazetto_ of its foliage: but the -oddities of nature, after all, are far less attractive than her ordinary -beauties. At last we re-crossed the Severn, and entered Tewksbury. It -has been justly remarked that this place appears to have stood still for -five hundred years. Its massive abbey, with its magnificent Anglo-Norman -tower, has the advantage therefore of standing in the company of -contemporary walls and roofs, instead of being an insulated lump of -Mediævalism, in a mass of nineteenth century brick and plaster. I was -wholly unprepared for so splendid a specimen of cathedral architecture -as this abbey proved to be; and when I entered the sacred place, I was -quite overwhelmed with its effect. It is of great length, and the aisles -are separated from the nave by a series of immense Saxon pillars, which -convey an idea of strength and sombre dignity wholly different from the -impressions produced by the light and springing shafts of the -perpendicular and decorated Gothic. Its great window is a solitary -example of such vast and solemn combinations of proportion and detail; -its Norman arches being deeply recessed in the gigantic wall, and its -height commensurately sublime. While we surveyed this stupendous -interior, the rich shadows and faint illuminations produced by the close -of day, greatly heightened the impressiveness of the architecture and -the awful associations of this ancient sanctuary and cemetery. It was -indeed sublime to reflect that under the shade of these walls was waged -the last battle of the House of Lancaster, and that the noble ashes of -its heroes were everywhere under foot, as we paced its aisles. We -surveyed one after another the tombs of Clarence, of Somerset, of -Wenlock, and De Clifford, moralizing on the Providence which reduced the -Norman blood of England just in the time and manner best suited to give -the Commons room to rise; and which laid these proud patricians in the -dust, that out of the dust might spring the freedom and the power which -now invest the world with Anglo-Saxon glory. God only is wise—God only -great! Issuing from a small door in one of the aisles of the abbey, we -entered a green and peaceful meadow, to which the deepening twilight -gave a grave and rich effect, heightened not a little by the shadows of -the abbey towers, and by the croaking of rooks and daws among the -buttresses and pinnacles. Here was the fatal field where the red-rose -was smothered forever in red blood. “Lance to lance, and horse to -horse”—here its fated champions struck the last blow for Margaret and -her son. Here the young prince himself asserted, face to face with -usurping York, the rights which his fathers had not less usurped from -the fallen Plantagenet; and here, for his boldness and for his fatal -royalty, he fell beneath the rapier, the last blood of Lancastrian -majesty spouting from his many wounds. Can it be, so green a field was -ever so crimson? It was impossible to conjure up the scenes of a period -so long gone by; and yet not less impossible to stand on such a field, -without some communion with the spirit of departed ages. - -With a worthy clergyman of Tewksbury, we finally quenched our enthusiasm -in a cup of tea, and buried the swelling thoughts of Margaret’s wrongs, -under the juicy morsels of a mutton-chop. As we sat at our repast, I -observed that our reverend entertainer had “a river at his -garden’s-end.” “Yes,” was his reply—“the Avon!” I had supposed it the -Severn, of course; but when he thus reminded us of its noble confluent, -after our historical communion with Shakspeare in the battle-field, all -my enthusiasm returned again, and, in spite of tea and mutton-chop, I -felt a thrill to find myself so near the river of the immortal Swan of -Stratford. Here, indeed, it finds its fitting union with the larger -waters, and runs with Severn to the sea. But now, it seemed to me -fragrant and vocal with a spirit caught from the banks of Stratford -churchyard, and its murmurs continually repeated the lines— - - “Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, - That stabbed me in the field, by Tewksbury.” - -During my visit at Cheltenham, we contrived to spend a Sunday in the -country—and such a Sunday as should realize my ideas of an English -Sunday among a rural population. Early in the morning we went to Bredon, -and there surveyed its parish Church, just opened for Divine service, -and exhibiting a neat interior, which, but for my growing familiarity -with so many superior examples, I should have considered very -noteworthy. In the floor of the nave is a plain slab covering the grave -of “Bishop Prideaux, 1650.” This Church, too, showed the hand of the -restorer, and had been much improved and beautified in the spirit of -what I suppose will be called the Victorian Restoration. Leaving this -Church, we started over the field for Kemerton. It was a beautiful -morning—what I am wont to call a _George-Herbert-Sunday_; and as I went -through the fragrant meads and harvest lands, or turned into a shady -lane, amid the hawthorn hedges, I felt those quiet influences stealing -over me which are the sweetest preparation for enjoyment in the house of -God. By and by we descried above the foliage the tower of Kemerton -Church; and hard by was the parsonage, where that estimable dignitary, -the venerable Archdeacon Thorp, gave us a most cordial welcome. Before -service, my friend V—— called me aside into the churchyard, and -pointed to a little grave beautifully decorated with fresh flowers. I -understood at once that it was the grave of a beloved child he had -lately lost, and whose transient but lovely life had shed a charm around -these scenes of its sweet and holy habitation, and endeared them to the -hearts of all who knew him. For a moment I entered into the sorrows of a -bereaved parent, and wept with one that wept. - -The service in Kemerton Church is performed in some respects very -simply, in others, one might say, elaborately, for most of it is sung. -There is no organ, and the singers are plain farmers and village-lads, -yet they have places in the chancel, and wear surplices, and sing with -very agreeable effect. When Morning Service was over, I proposed a quiet -ramble through the fields, with my friend, for my heart was quite full -of the solemnities of which the Holy Communion formed a part. As we were -about to leave, we observed the bell-ringers taking their stand under -the tower, which opened into the Church, with great reverence and -propriety in their behaviour. The Archdeacon informed us that they were -all worthy parishioners, who understood the nature of the humblest -office in the house of God, and who rung the bells with a sense of -serving the temple, and sounding forth the glory of the Lord. When we -had gone about a quarter of a mile from the Church, we heard the bells -ringing, accordingly, and sweet music did they discourse. They seemed -indeed full of Sabbath blessing; full of peace and good will to men. -“This, dear V——,” said I, “This is enchanting, and more, ’tis -heavenly! Shall I ever forget this peaceful Sunday noon in England?” As -I looked around, all seemed, as the Gospel would make the whole earth -appear, if only sinful men would let it; all blossomed as the rose. A -church but a few rods in one direction—and another less than a mile -before us—and many others near us, all around! All _churches_ too—not -so many tokens of religious strife and schism, but each to its own -little nest of villagers, the centre of one faith, of one baptism, and -the worship of one Lord. Ah—here is the true glory of England! Mile -after mile, in some counties, seems to be marked by church after church; -each beautiful in its kind, the monument of ancestral piety among its -rural worshippers, and the tutelary of their rude forefathers’ graves, -that cluster beneath its eaves. One wonders what a dissenter is made of, -when he beholds these rural churches, and their happy influence over a -rustic population. We extended our walk to Overbury Church, an old -Norman structure of small dimensions, beautifully restored, and in -perfect repair. The congregation had just withdrawn, and the breath of -prayer seemed lingering in the sanctuary. My ramble was completed before -the Evening Service began, and certainly never saw I Sunday so liveried -before, to celebrate the holy tide. The hawthorn was everywhere in -flower; butter-cups, daisies, lilacs, cowslips, and every variety of -contemporary blossom, were to be seen in all the fields and -cottage-gardens; and the very sheep and cattle, resting in the shadow of -the trees, seemed to know it was the holy day. Where else, save in -England, is holy tide ever so entirely what holy tide should be? - -The Evening Prayer was divided, as in all the English cathedrals, so -that the sermon followed the second lesson. Then came the Canticle, and -the rest of the prayers. This arrangement follows the original idea of -_Catechising_ at the Evening Prayer, and has many advantages. I was -privileged to be the preacher, and I spake with a sincere appreciation -of the duty, as a privilege indeed. It appeared strange to me, when -service was over, to reflect that Kemerton Church is many hundred years -old, and yet that, in all probability, never had any one stood in its -pulpit before, who was not a subject of the English crown. - -Among the valuable acquaintances which I formed at Cheltenham, I reckon -myself fortunate in that of the Rev. Alexander Watson, now of -Marychurch, Devon, so well known by his many publications in defence of -Church doctrine, and in aid of practical religion. It was in his company -that I visited Gloucester, and added to my stock of travelling -experiences another day of memorable enjoyment. After a pleasant -breakfast party, at his hospitable table, we started in a private -carriage, for a somewhat circuitous drive, to that “godly city;” passing -Leckhampton, under lee of the tallest peaks of the Cotswolds, and so by -Birdlip Wood, and Cooper’s Hill. Far away, on the other side of the -valley, a prominent headland was pointed out to me, as May’s Hill. It is -a not less conspicuous landmark from the Severn, and once served to save -from shipwreck a mariner, named May, just returning from the sea; in -consequence of which, he planted its summit with a clump of trees, and -made provision for keeping them there perpetually. At a little distance -I descried a hamlet, and a Church, which my friend pointed out to me as -_Chozen_, at the same time informing me that it was spelt _Churchdown_. -This is but one of many amusing specimens of the wide variance which -often exists, between the spelling and pronouncing of English proper -names. At Shurdington we paused to visit its pretty Church, surrounded -by a shady field, and found it undergoing entire restoration at the -expense of the curate. Both the restoration, and the munificence of its -promoter, were the rather interesting, as being no uncommon things. Such -proofs of life and godliness are everywhere encountered, at the present -day, in England. I found myself more and more delighted, as we drove on, -with the scenery, and often with the road itself, so beautifully hedged -and shaded, and affording so many points of interest to an observing -eye. Here was the tower of Badgworth Church, and here was Brockworth. -Churches everywhere—and everywhere, upon the face of field and farm, -the tokens of that industry and thrift, of that order and decency, with -which the Church alone can ennoble the aspect of civilization. The same -charm which I had observed in the features of society, and which I had -traced to harmony in religion, appeared to me, here and elsewhere, -transferred in a great degree to the very soil, to its culture, and to -its embellishment. Nature itself seemed to have borrowed a grace, and a -glory, from the holy Faith, of which such monuments were visible at -every turn, in spires and towers peering above the green trees, and -gleaming amid the wide-spread bounties of God, whose adorable name they -seemed to display as the giver of all. As we slowly ascended the slope -of Cooper’s Hill, walking behind our carriage, and surveying the scene -to right and left, with reflections such as these, we heard a note from -the deep foliage of Birdlip Wood, which arrested us, and brought to my -mind many scraps of poetry, such as Logan’s, or Wordsworth’s— - - ————shall I call thee bird, - Or but a wandering voice? - -It was the cuckoo! I had never heard it before, except in wooden -imitation from the perch of a German clock. I shall not soon forget its -effects, upon the still beauty of the hour and the scene, as I heard it -for the first time, in nature’s own sweet modulations and heart-touching -pathos. - -Hucklecot new Church we only sighted, but at Upton St. Leonard’s we made -a halt, and visited the Church, the parsonage, and the school. The -Church was a gem of its kind, with interesting monuments and -architectural objects, and had been freshly restored. The schools were -lately built by a munificent lady of rank, and the parsonage was -apparently new; the whole furnishing another instance of what is going -on, almost universally. Passing Robinwood-hill on the left, as we -continued our drive, we soon entered Gloucester, of which the glorious -cathedral tower had long been the conspicuous object in our view. - -Here we visited the Church of St. Mary-de-Crypt, (lately restored) where -the admirers of Whitfield would chiefly think of him, and where, -perhaps, he ought to have been more thought of by the Church, and so -saved from the extravagances of his subsequent career. We went also to -see St. Michael’s and St. Mary-de-Lode, (fresh restorations again) and -finally visited the scene of Bishop Hooper’s fiery martyrdom. The death -of Hooper dignifies the otherwise inglorious memory of a prelate who did -not a little to spoil his own work as a reformer, by tampering with -Geneva. And it is curious how much of puritanism he seems to have -bequeathed to his see; Glos’ter having been the proverbial haunt of the -“godlie” in Cromwell’s time, and having bred the zealous evangelist, to -whom I have already alluded as originally illuminating with his -enthusiasm, the cold interior of St. Mary-de-Crypt. Strange, that after -beginning here as a deacon of the Church, he should now lie buried under -a puritan pulpit in New England, having completely revolutionized the -Calvinism of our own country, and entailed upon it the _Convulsionism_ -of which it is now expiring. Had the zeal of Whitfield been according to -his knowledge, and had the dormant Hanoverian age, which produced him, -by the law of reaction, only known how to use him, he might have left -behind him some less equivocal fruits of missionary enterprise. - -Before speaking of the cathedral, I must allude to our visit to Highnam, -on the other side of the Severn. Here we found a Church, lately erected -entire, at a cost of £30,000, by a single individual—nave, chancel, -tower, and spire complete, and all affording a model of ecclesiastical -art, worthy of standing in the neighbourhood of some of its noblest -originals. To see a Victorian Church, and one thus erected by private -munificence, comparing so favourably with some of the most admired -specimens of the middle ages, not only in general construction, but in -the most elaborate details, was indeed refreshing to the eye and to the -heart. The chancel and altar were especially noteworthy, adorned as they -were with the most delicate sculpture, in Caen stone, and instinct with -the life and beauty of a healthful symbolism. Into the chancel opened a -small sepulchral chapel, which exceedingly interested my feelings, and -warmed my admiration of the whole. Two memorial windows were dedicated, -each to the remembrance of a departed child, and between them stood, in -a niche, the marble bust of their departed mother. Blessed religion of -Jesus, which makes the dead in Christ so dear, and which so beautifies -their memory: which so sanctifies the ties of earth, and so triumphs -over death, in its power to render them eternal! Here was a family nest, -indeed, hung upon the altar of the Lord of Hosts! My eyes glistened as I -read, beneath the lovely effigy of the Christian wife and mother, an -inscription to “Anna Maria Isabella G—— P——; in fulfilment of whose -pious purpose this Church was erected to the glory of God, by her -husband.” Then followed the texts—including an allusion to the -children, as well as their mother—“And they shall be mine in that day -when I make up my jewels:”—“The Lord grant unto them that they may find -mercy of the Lord in that day.” I can scarcely remember anything of the -kind which ever more powerfully touched the springs of Christian -sympathy within me; those sacred springs of the heart, which can never -issue in their fullest flow, till they have been fed by the hallowed -love of the husband and the father. - -Returning to the town, I devoted nearly the whole of the remainder of -the afternoon to the cathedral; accompanied most of the time, by the -friend to whom I had owed the pleasures of the day, and to whom I at -last bade a reluctant farewell. I had been greatly benefited, not only -by his intelligent conversation on indifferent topics, but by his -earnestness in those particularly, which Christian priests should -discuss most freely in each other’s company. He left me to the kind -attention of a worthy dignitary of the cathedral, the Rev. Sir John -S——, in the enjoyment of whose polite hospitalities I spent the -evening of this charming day. - -The exterior of the cathedral, as seen from every point of vantage, in -neighbouring gardens, or from the solemn seclusion of the surrounding -precincts, was not less striking, in its way, than that of any similar -structure I had yet beheld; but the internal survey was more impressive, -by far, than that of any other, except Westminster Abbey. It is one of -the largest of its class of buildings, and in its different portions, -presents an epitome of pointed art, in its several stages of progress -through a period of five hundred years. Here is the Anglo-Norman nave, -with massive columns, like those of Tewksbury; then comes the choir, -with its rich and delicate elaborations; and then the Lady-Chapel, which -is a little paradise of architecture. The solid crypts beneath, dating -from the tenth century, present a singular instance of groining, in -their square and solid ribs, entirely unadorned; while the cloisters, in -the style of the fifteenth century, seem to have exhausted the skill of -the architect, in the exceeding richness of their tracery, and pendant -vaulting. The very defects of the building seem to have contributed to -its graces, for when I had admired the aerial effect of a slender arch, -springing athwart the transepts and attaching itself to the roof, as if -its solid stone were a mere hanging festoon, I was told that this was, -in fact, a blemish, and had been introduced into the original plan, only -to strengthen the walls. I went into the triforia, and tried the -whispering-gallery, but had no time to amuse myself with such small -experiments, amid so many incentives to a higher employment of my -opportunities. I am sorry that the marvellous beauty of the Lady-Chapel -still demands the hand of a restorer. The “godly” Cromwellians have left -the traces of their hammers on all its carved work, and it is sadly -despoiled. Would that the same skill and taste which reared the Church -at Highnam might be permitted to make this holy place worthy of an -English cathedral! That the English people still suffer these -mother-churches of the nation to remain as too many of them are, is one -of their greatest national disgraces. When they are restored as they -might be, and managed as they should be, then, and not till then, must -they command the unmingled admiration and delight of every intelligent -visitor. - -After a thorough inspection of the cathedral, in the broad light of day, -I was kindly invited by Sir John to visit it again, as the day was about -to close. We entered, by his private key, and were alone in the vast and -awful interior. Going into the nave, he said to me, as I paused to -observe the solemn perspective—“Whose bones, do you suppose, are now -beneath your feet?” I stepped aside, as he added, “You are standing on -the grave of Bishop Warburton.” So much wit and genius in the dust! Yet -in what nobler sepulchre could earth to earth be delivered, to await the -resurrection? Hard by, are the monuments of two of the world’s -benefactors; that of Jenner, who poured water upon the flame of the -noisome pestilence, and that of Raikes, who first “gathered the -children” into Sunday Schools. There is another modern monument, -deserving of mention, as one of that purely Anglican type, which tends -to _divinify_ domestic love, and the holy relations of the wife and -mother. A female figure, with a babe, appear in the radiant marble, -invited by angels into Paradise, from the waves of the sea. It is from -the pure chisel of Flaxman, and commemorates one who died in the perils -of childbirth, while encompassed by the perils of the great deep. - -Less pleasing, yet even more impressive, was the quaint effigy, in old -carved oak, of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed Curthose. You touch it -and it moves, and you involuntarily start. It is, of course, very light, -and lies upon the tomb so loosely that it is easily disturbed; and then, -it seems as if the old Norman were about to rise and confront you, as an -audacious intruder upon his repose. But how shall I describe the effect -of the marble effigy of poor King Edward the Second, as I saw it, in the -solemn twilight, and in the unbroken silence of the deserted cathedral? -There was that outstretched figure, and that sad outline of a face -composed in death, and hands clasped in resignation; but its dread -appearance was as if imploring God, against the cruel murderers who had -done him such awful violence. I thought of Gray’s sketchy but -descriptive lyric, and muttered to myself:— - - “Those shrieks of death through Berkeley’s roofs that ring; - Shrieks of an agonizing king.” - -The neighbouring peasant woke at the outcry of the tortured sufferer, -and crossed himself; for he suspected what the devil was doing in the -castle. Here now lies the victim of that horrid regicide, but there is -something in the sculpture of his visage, that reminds the visitor, that -“God shall bring to light the hidden things of darkness.” This powerful -impression lingered with me, as I paced the cloisters, and revived, when -at a late hour of the night I was awakened by the chimes of the -cathedral clock charming the darkness with a solemn tune, and lifting -the thoughts of the listener to communion with his God. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - - - _The Court of St. James._ - - -Who knows not by heart the face of the Royal Palace of St. James? That -such a house should have been a Palace in the days of Wolsey, seems -strange enough to one who has seen at Oxford what even a college was, in -Wolsey’s conception: but that it should still be a Palace, when Pall -Mall and St. James’s-street are full of club-houses, that would scarcely -take any part of it for a kitchen, with the condition of setting it on -their own ground—this seems stranger still. Yet a Palace may it long -continue; for not until the government of England shall be that of some -revolutionary _parvenu_, will it cease to be a speaking symbol of the -genuine dignity of the British Crown! The Queen of England can afford to -hold her Court in an old, worn-out mansion, and to let the opulence of -her subjects erect the most striking contrast at its side. Build as they -may—St. James is not cast into the shade: it is historical and royal. -There are few illustrations to be found more _à propos_ to the -superiority of a mental over a physical grandeur. - -In returning to London from my Glo’stershire excursion, one of my -purposes was to be presented at Court; a gratification which I had been -advised to allow myself, and which the American Minister had politely -proffered me. An experienced courtier supplied me with the necessary -hints as to dress, and the etiquette of the Court; and accordingly, on a -levee day, I was duly presented, as preparatory to going to Court, on -the more splendid occasion of a drawing-room. The presentation of -gentlemen always takes place at a levee, and no one of the male sex can -attend a drawing-room who has not been previously presented. Ladies do -not attend levees at all, and consequently a levee is a very dull -affair, when compared with the brilliant spectacle which they make of a -drawing-room, not less by their beauty, than by the glitter of their -diamonds, and the flaunting of their trains. - -As a clergyman, I was freed from any great burden of expense in the -matter of costume, canonicals being the proper dress for one of the -priestly function, and my ordinary suit of robes being in very good -condition. A pair of enormous shoe-buckles was almost the only -additional item to be thought of; and an Oxford cap was pronounced by my -kind adviser, Sir John S——, quite as proper as the absurd little -apology for a three-cornered hat, (tucked under the arm,) which is -considered the more exquisite finish to the clerical exterior, on such -occasions. My next concern was to furnish myself with a Brougham, (or -chariotee,) and with a driver wearing a sort of livery; hackney-coaches -not being sufferable within the precincts of the Palace. A couple of -cards, of unusual magnitude, one of which bore the name of my presenter, -with my own, was the last requisite; and thus munimented, I had only to -fall into the line of aristocratic equipages, sweeping down St. -James’s-street, and to await my turn for alighting at the doors of the -Palace. - -How different the scene in Hogarth’s day, when they went to Court in -sedan-chairs, and when the “Rake, arrested for debt,” (as portrayed in -his dramatic colours,) was the very ideal of a courtier. Yet there -stands the old Palace, precisely as it figures in that graphic picture, -and here are the successors of the characters who fill up its -back-ground, if not those of the hero himself! Such were my reflections -as I found myself moving, very leisurely, in the procession of wheels, -along the splendid street, amid crowds of gaping spectators, kept at -respectful distance by the heels of the horses of the mounted guards, -and by the vigorous exertions of the police. My further reflections were -not of a very self-sufficient sort; for who could be very much elated at -finding himself cutting so little of a figure, and, in fact, making an -absolute blemish, in such a pageant? Yet, I had no occasion to be -ashamed, as I felt that my hired brougham was as much the thing for my -republican self-respect, as the gilded coaches and gorgeous liveries -before me and behind me were for titled lords and ladies. In fact, if I -could not be vain, I was not without a little Johnsonian pride, in the -entire consistency and reality of my turn-out. Hired court-dresses, and -swords, and buckles, have been not unheard-of things for an appearance -at Court. I was at least habited in no borrowed plumes, and was going in -the same vestments which I had often worn in my pulpit, to be presented -by the representative of my own Government, as a plain American -parish-priest. As for my hired brougham, it was countenanced by so many -of its own kind, that its humble appearance occasioned no surprise even -among the staring crowd, it being quite usual for professional gentlemen -to use such an equipage. But the carriages of the nobility, in general, -are truly superb: that is to say—if they are not ridiculous. They look, -for all the world, (with their gilding, emblazonings and trappings, -their powdered coachmen, and footmen holding on behind, three in a row, -with staves and cocked hats,) like the carriage of Cinderella in the -nursery-book. And indeed, on a drawing-room day, the fair creatures -within, in their ostrich-plumes, and lace, and diamonds, as revealed to -vulgar eyes through the glass-windows, often seem to realize the -fabulous beauty of Cinderella herself with their dazzling complexions -and delicate airs. Not alone the vulgar, however, but many of the -personal friends of the fair parties are viewing them, all the time, -from the neighbouring balconies and shop-fronts. The levee attracts less -of a crowd, and yet there was crowd enough, and very stupid was my -approach to Pall-Mall. There—you wait till called in your turn, and -meanwhile have time to look at the mounted trumpeters, pursuivants, and -guards, in liveries of scarlet and gold, drawn up before the gates. At -last, setting forward, you enter the court-yard, with as much of a -flourish as your whip can make for you, and alight at the door of the -Palace, making your way, first along a corridor, and then slowly up a -grand stair-case, to the suite of apartments opened for the occasion. As -you enter these apartments, you throw your card into a basket, and pass -on amid files of yeomen of the guard, wearing the Tudor livery, and -holding their halberds, and looking like old statues of wood or stone, -or rather like the wax figures in a museum. When the time comes for you -to enter the royal presence, you are met at the door of the throne-room -by a gentleman in waiting, to whom you deliver your second card, that -you may be properly announced. This card is handed to another official, -and you are ushered through a file of ladies of honour towards her -Majesty, who stands beneath a canopy, with Prince Albert at her side, -the centre of the brilliant circle, and (as I am glad to say) making a -truly royal appearance. Here your name is called out, and that of the -party who presents you, and then—an American simply advances and bows -to the Queen, repeats the salaam to her princely consort, and so retires -backwards, not turning his heel upon the royal presence. A British -subject goes through the more formidable ceremony of falling on one -knee, and kissing the royal hand. Now it so happened that her -Majesty—owing no doubt to my attire, which was the same as that of her -own clerical subjects—evidently mistook me for one; and my gallantry -was in consequence sorely put to the test,—for, advancing with great -dignity, the Queen was just proffering her hand, and I was beginning to -balance between the republicanism of my knee, and the courtesy of my -heart, when the anxious official promptly repeated the form—“presented -by the _American_ Minister.” Of course her Majesty took the hint, and -most gracefully withdrew, with a courteous recognition and a pleasant -smile, while I finished my democratic homage with as much -self-possession as was in my power, repeated my obeisance to Prince -Albert, and bowed myself backward through the gorgeously apparelled -circle of _diplomats_, making my especial respects to our own Minister, -and so retiring into the adjoining apartment. - -On this occasion the Queen’s appearance impressed me, in all respects, -more favorably than I had expected; but, on the other hand, Prince -Albert struck me as less princely, and less intelligent, than I had -supposed him to appear. A lady would here interpose with the question as -to her Majesty’s dress, and I must allow that, from my own observation, -I could not speak with certainty on that important subject, but the -_Times_ next morning asserted it to have been—“a train of white watered -silk, _chenée_ with gold, and green and silver, trimmed with tulle and -white satin ribands, and ornamented with diamonds; and a petticoat of -white satin and tulle, with satin ribands to correspond; and a -head-dress of emeralds and diamonds.” The Duchess of Sutherland and Lady -Jocelyn were conspicuous among the ladies in attendance, and Prince -Albert was attended by Lord George Lennox, with his groom and his -equerry. It would have been a very magnificent spectacle, had not the -small and stifled appearance of the throne-room given a cramped look to -the royal party, and detracted from the majesty which always requires -“ample room and verge” for its full effect on the imagination. - -The drawing-room was held in honour of the Queen’s birthday, about a -week later. I could now go freely, without the ceremony of a -presentation, merely depositing my card in the basket, from which, I -suppose, the Times reports of attendants at the Palace are made up. In -approaching St. James, everything was as before, save that the crowd was -greater, and the carriages conveying ladies of rank more superb. On -alighting, and entering the corridor, I was enchanted by the display of -splendour and beauty which filled it, and in which there was everything -but order to make it all that one could imagine of a courtly pageant. -Brilliant indeed; but such a jam! The crowd was a perfumed and dazzling -one; but not less a crowd than one in the streets. Here were peers and -peeresses of every rank, and the daughters of peers, and new brides, and -many a young beauty coming for the first time, and trembling with -excitement, yet bewildered with delight. There is no denying the -striking beauty of many of these high-born damsels; their complexions -were lily-and-rose, and health was as generally characteristic of their -appearance as beauty. I observed the trepidation of some of them, as -their finery was subjected to the pressure of the patrician throng, and -as they gathered their trains over the ivory arm, evidently thinking -anxiously of the critical moment when they must allow it to flaunt -gracefully, and catch it up not less so, in the presence of their -Sovereign. No doubt all had been practised for weeks beforehand, till -each was an adept, in the eyes of waiting-maids and mammas. Mingled with -these gay creatures were grave judges in their wigs, and fierce-looking -officers in their uniforms, and wild-looking Highland chieftains, -bare-legged, but plaided and plumed, and making a showy figure in their -clan-tartans. One of the yeomen-of-the-guard remarked, in my hearing, as -I passed, that this was the greatest attendance at Court he had ever -known. The Crystal Palace had filled the town, and there were many -foreigners. I saw some Persian and other Oriental costumes in the -throng; and, on the whole, the poorest figures were those in the -ordinary gentleman’s court suit, with the cocked-hat, and hair-powder of -the last century. This style of dress seemed to be avoided as far as -possible, military uniforms predominating. In mounting the great -stair-case, if our progress was slow, there was everything to relieve -its tediousness. The ascending rows of glittering uniforms and fine -female figures were a study in themselves. I observed the lovely Lady -——, whom I had met a few hours before, at a breakfast, and was amused -with the entire change of her appearance which those few hours had made. -Lord Lyttleton, who had been at the same breakfast party, now appeared -in a military suit. Quite a number of the clergy were interspersed among -the fair and brave; and as a polite young officer offered me precedence, -and cautioned me to beware of his spurs, he whispered—“_Cedant arma -togæ_ is about all the Latin I retain.” Gaining a landing on the -stair-case, we were next amused by observing the great personages -descending by a corresponding stair-case, from the royal presence. A -servant called for the carriage of each party, as they successively -appeared, and so one always knew who was coming. At last came a great -man whom all knew without any help, as he tottered down, dressed in his -Field-Marshal’s uniform, of which the gay decorations strangely -contrasted with his white head and bowed shoulders. As I watched the old -hero descending, step by step, I could not but think of the lower -descent he must soon make into the dust, and oh! what a moral was -furnished, at that moment, by the glittering honours he wore upon his -breast. Dukes, earls, and cabinet ministers, and several ambassadors, -with wives and daughters, came following each other in splendid -succession, till at last I gained the ante-chamber, and had something -else to look at. Here I could move more freely, and renew my impressions -of the Palace. Several persons whom I had met elsewhere were so polite -as to join me, and to enter into conversation, which very pleasantly -beguiled the time. The exits and entrances were in themselves enough to -amuse and fill up one’s time. Almost every variety of official -decoration and costume, known to heralds and antiquarians, seemed to be -worn by somebody, and amongst the comers and goers were some -distinguished individuals in arts and arms. In this room were one or two -of Lely’s pictures, and among them, if I remember rightly, that of -Catharine of Braganza. Queen Anne also looked on us, from the walls, and -her Majesty’s odious old great-great-grandfather, George the Second. As -I fell into the line which moved toward the throne-room, I came to a -window looking over the park and private garden of the Palace. Oh! what -tales of Caroline, and Hanoverian, gossip and scandal, the sight -recalled. There was her Majesty’s state carriage, awaiting the -conclusion of the ceremonies, to convey her back to Buckingham Palace. -The squab of a driver was sleeping on his box—a mere mortal in spite of -his livery, his hair-powder, and the nosegay in his bosom. In my turn, I -passed before her Majesty, much as before. I hardly saw, in full, the -ceremony of a female presentation, although there were several just -before and after me, for the crowd was intolerable, and my escape from -the presence of royalty into the freer apartments beyond, was truly -refreshing. I passed into an armory, or room ornamented with such old -weapons and defences as one sees at the Tower. Finally, as before, I -left the Palace through a long corridor, ornamented with portraits of -the Kings of England, down to Charles the First. This portrait reminded -me of the last night on earth of that sovereign, which he passed beneath -this roof: and of the last sacrament which he received, in the chapel of -St. James. This is the most sacred association with the Old Palace, and -it is the only one that is enough sacred, to sink the ill memories of -its Georgian traditions. The English underestimate Charles the First, -and do not seem to reflect that many of those elements of their -Constitution, on which they are most wont to value themselves, have been -bequeathed to them by the spirit in which he maintained the royalty, and -suffered for the Church. If the brutal Cromwell is remembered with -commendation, because of some liberties which were the secondary results -of his usurpation, why should not the failings of Charles be forgotten, -in gratitude for the great conservative principles which he taught the -English people, by the signal ability with which he baulked his -adversaries in debate, and by his truly sublime behaviour in the last -stages of his reign? Say what they will, thought I, as I looked at his -portrait—had Charles the First been a Louis the Sixteenth, I should -not, to-day, have seen a descendant of Alfred on the Throne of Great -Britain. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - - - _Harrow—Coventry—Warwickshire._ - - -I went into the country on Ascension Day to keep the feast, at an -interesting place in the neighbourhood of Harrow. As I was rushing at -the last minute to gain a seat in the railway train, I saw a hand -beckoning me from one of the carriages, and so took my seat beside the -Bishop of Oxford. He was going to spend the day at the same place, a -fact of which I had not the least idea beforehand, but which, of course, -greatly heightened my anticipations of pleasure, on making the -discovery. Arrived, the Bishop was received by the Rev. Mr. ——, and I -was kindly invited to accompany him to breakfast, after a brief survey -of the attractions of the place. First, we went with our reverend host -to see a sort of training school, in which he was giving some young men -of limited means all the substantial parts of a University education. We -went into their chapel, and joined in the devotions with which they -began their day. We were then conducted through the establishment -connected with which was a printing press, worked by the pupils, and a -chemical laboratory, in which they were producing stained glass for the -chapel. In the garden I saw a novelty in the horticultural art, which -struck me as not unworthy of imitation. A small piece of ground had been -ingeniously shaped into a miniature Switzerland. Here, for example, was -the Righi, with a corresponding depression for the Lake of the Four -Cantons. A bucket of water poured into such a depression, makes the -little scene into an artificial reality, serving to convey a -geographical idea much more forcibly than any map could possibly do. -From this college we went to an “Agricultural School,” where some plain -farmer’s boys, in their working attire, were gathered to prayers before -engaging in the labour of the day. A certain amount of education is -furnished to these lads, in return for their toil, and they pay some -fees beside; the plan proposing to elevate this class of the peasantry, -especially in morals and religious knowledge. Thence, we went to the -parish-schools which were also opened by prayer; and then the children -were catechised, in the presence of the Bishop. After this we adjourned -to breakfast, and then went to the Church; a very plain, but substantial -and architectural one, lately substituted for its dilapidated -predecessor. The Bishop preached, entirely extemporaneously, having been -pressed into the service against his intentions. As he eloquently -exhorted us to follow our ascended Lord, I could not but think how -entirely different from the ordinary American notion of an English -Bishop, in labors and in spirit, was this estimable prelate. The Holy -Communion followed, and there was a large number of devout partakers, -representing all classes of society. I was glad to see, for example, -some plain farmers, in their frocks, and two of the railway-guards, in -their liveries. - -While walking through the lanes, with the Bishop and this laborious -pastor, a little boy ran up to us with oak-leaves, and a branch -containing oak-apples. It was the 29th of May; and the Bishop playfully -asked the lad why he carried them. “To remember King Charles,” said the -little fellow—as he further enforced the sale of these memorials of the -Restoration. - -During the residue of the day, I shared the labours of the pastor, as he -went about the parish, visiting here a sick person, and there a poor -one; and, towards evening, returning to the grounds of the training -school, I joined in a game of cricket, which the young men were playing -in high glee. Chasing the ball as it bounded over the field, or hid -itself in the hedge; scratching my hands with nettles, and joining in -the shouts of frolic, with these happy youths; and finally sitting at my -leisure to watch the beautiful evening sky, against which stood out the -graceful spire and foliage of Harrow-on-the-Hill, while the neighbouring -bells of Stanmore pealed a sunset song, I could not but murmur to -myself, with Gray— - - “I feel the gales that from ye blow, - A momentary bliss bestow, - As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, - My weary soul they seem to soothe, - And, redolent of joy and youth, - To breathe a second spring.” - -In rambling about, we had a good view of the former residence of Queen -Adelaide, in which she had lately died. She was much beloved and -respected for her unaffected piety, and her manifold good works. - -In the twilight we went to church again. The service was sung to a very -pleasing chant, in which all joined with heart, and then the pastor -entered the pulpit, and preached, extemporaneously, on the text, “_It is -expedient for you that I go away._” The sermon was an allegory, of -exceeding beauty, perfectly sustained throughout, and that, to all -appearance, without effort. I shall never forget it, nor the powerful -impression it produced at the time. I have, since, quoted it entire, in -my own pulpit, (with full credit to the source from which it was -derived,) and was happy to observe the effect it was capable of -producing, even at second hand. I left the scene of this pleasing day’s -experiences, with a sweet elevation of feeling, inspired by the -solemnities in which I had engaged, and by the sermons which I had been -so fortunate as to hear. Oh! lovely Church of England, how little they -know thee who revile thee! how unworthy of their baptism are they who -have cast themselves from thy motherly bosom! - -My next excursion was into Warwickshire. I went first to Coventry, a -city of which one of my humble ancestry was Mayor, more than two -centuries ago, and for which I entertained a sort of hereditary respect. -It retains much of the aspect it must have borne during that worthy’s -incumbency; for a more mediæval-looking town I saw not in England. Still -unmodernized are its ancient streets and alleys. The houses jut out, -story above story, their gables fronting the way, and so close together, -in the upper parts, that neighbours may light their pipes with each -other across the street, as they lean out of their windows. The famous -three spires of Coventry belong to as many different churches, but seem -to equalize the place in cathedral glories with Lichfield, its sister -see. The spire of St. Michael’s, which is chief among them, is, indeed, -singularly beautiful: and the triplet is well harmonized, and gives the -town a majestic appearance as one approaches it. A town of many spires, -in America, is generally a town of many wrangling creeds; and the major -part of the steeples are but vulgar rivals, realizing the droll idea of -Carlyle’s eel-pot, in which each individual eel is trying to get his -head higher than his neighbour’s. The fact, however, is less droll than -melancholy, when one thinks of the sickening results, upon a community, -of so many religions, all claiming to be reputable types of Christ’s -dear Gospel, although so widely differing among themselves that some -must necessarily be its pestilent antagonists. Dissocial habits; cold -incivilities; open wars; disgraceful rivalries; bickering animosities; -and a degraded moral sentiment—these are the things signified by your -poly-steepled towns in our own land, and God only knows the irreligion -and the contempt for truth, which are festering within them, as the -result of these acrid humours; but as yet, it is not generally so in -England. The three spires of Coventry all point faithfully to the throne -of the Triune God, and are symbols of one Lord, one faith, and one -baptism. Oh, that all who dwell under their shadow knew the blessings of -their ministrations, and received them in spirit and in truth! - -The melodious bells of St. Michael’s rung, as I lingered about its -venerable walls; but the interior was undergoing a costly restoration, -and was so obstructed with scaffolding, that I could catch but little of -the effect of its solemn length of nave and chancel, and of the -intersecting arches of its aisles. I afterwards visited Trinity; and -also the ancient St. Mary’s Hall, the scene of the civic pomps of -Coventry, and filled with antiquarian interest in itself and in its -contents. It was not difficult to conjure up the ancient shows of the -adjoining church-yard when Holy Week was celebrated by dramatic -mysteries. But what interested me more than all the rest, was the -grotesque head of a mediæval clown, projecting from an old house, with a -most striking expression of vulgarly impertinent curiosity. The reader -of Tennyson’s exquisite _chef d’œuvre_, will, of course, recognise -“Peeping Tom” in this description. Fabulous may be that beautiful legend -of the Lady Godiva, but the men of Coventry believe it still: and still, -on every Friday in the week of Holy Trinity, its annual fair is opened -with a commemorative procession, in which a fair boy, dressed in -well-knit hosiery, but apparently naked, rides through the ancient -streets, with long and golden hair flowing from head to foot, and -covering his body, as the representative of the sweet bride of Earl -Leofric, who made the burghers of Coventry toll-free, and “gained -herself an everlasting name.” They were making great preparations for -this pageant when I was there, but on the whole I preferred not “to -march through Coventry with them.” - -From Coventry to Kenilworth, of course. It was late in the afternoon -when I started the rooks in those old ruins, and sat down to watch their -flight about its ivied towers. Here was, indeed, a place for thought, -and for sentimentalism. How the romance of Scott, that once so bewitched -me, (as I read it, stretched in boyish luxury upon the floor of the -verandah of an American villa, on the dear banks of the Hudson,) now -rose about me in a strange dream of reality; and how tormenting the -endeavour to separate the true history from the charming fable! Here the -finely wrought Gothic masonry, and delicate mouldings, and deeply -recessed windows of the great banqueting-room, stand without a roof; and -the ivy that climbs the solid walls, and twists among the shattered -mullions and transoms, is rooted inside of the once hospitable hall, and -beneath the very point in space, where once the haughty Queen Elizabeth -sat in state, on a splendid dais, with Burleigh, and Leicester, and -Raleigh around her, while these cold, damp walls lifted about them their -magnificent tapestries, and gorgeous blazonries of heraldic honour. In -that bay window she once reclined, to look over the park, and to think -thoughts too deep for utterance. The rich architectural work of these -chambers betrays their former splendid uses; and one grudges, to the -great serpent-like convolutions of the ivy-vines, the sole -proprietorship of their surviving graces. Yet there they hang their -melancholy leaves; and the beautiful desolation is possibly rich enough -in its moral effect on the heart of the visitor, to make one contented -on the whole, that the pile was once so great in design, and so -exquisite in detail, and that the ruin is now so complete. Poor Amy -Robsart! - -Up and down I went, thinking only of her wrongs. Now the worn steps -wound up to a turret, and now descended to a secret postern. Here was -the orchard, and there the lake, and there the plaisance: now you look -out of a prison-like window, and now you stand in the deep recess of a -lordly oriel. Going into the ancient grounds, I scattered a hundred -sheep, and away they went, bounding over grass as green and velvety, as -they were white and fleecy. These are the successors of those red deer, -fallow deer, and roes, which once stored the chase. The “swifts” darted -from bush to bush, and the thrushes fluttered in the hawthorn; and then -all was as still as if the past hung over the place like a spell, and as -if it were haunted with its own history. Of all this noble castle, there -remains only one outer part, which can shelter a human inhabitant. The -barbican, beneath which Elizabeth must have made that superb entrance, -is still a dwelling; but its occupant is a plain farmer, who would, no -doubt, prefer to be more snugly housed. It seemed strange to find such a -picturesque abode devoted to so homely a use. How glad I should be to -hire it, myself, for a summer lodge, provided I might have the range of -the surrounding domains, without the annoyance of everybody’s intrusion, -and provided I had nothing better to do than to read romances and -history! - -Here this farmer lives, in a room of panelled oaken wainscot, enclosed -by walls that might defy artillery. The chimney-piece is a massive bit -of antiquity, partly alabaster curiously wrought, and partly wood of -rich and costly carving. The ragged-staff of Dudley is conspicuous, in -the decorations; it betrays the relics of its former gilding; the -speaking initials R. L. tell the story of its origin, and the motto -_Droit et Loyal_ shows itself, as if in mockery of historical justice, -amid the arms and cognizances of the once proud possessor of the -princely castle of Kenilworth. - -The long twilight enabled me to visit Leamington Priors, and to get a -very pleasing impression of its trim and fair abodes, and showy modern -streets. Then away, by night, to Warwick, where I slept at the “Warwick -Arms,” after such a comfortable supper, as one finds nowhere, at the -close of a traveller’s day, except at an English Inn. - -It proved a most beautiful morning, next day, and I was up very early, -resolved, before tasting breakfast, to taste all the sweets of the hour -of prime, in one of the most beautiful rural districts of England. I -walked out some two or three miles, on the Kenilworth road, to Guy’s -Cliff, and to the scene, beyond it, of Piers Gaveson’s murder. The -beauty of the day and of the Scenery, the song of birds, and the -blossoms of the hawthorn along the road, were singularly in keeping with -the imagery by which the poet has pictured the early history of a reign, -strikingly coincident with that in which Gaveson’s fortune was made and -ruined:— - - “Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, - While proudly riding o’er the azure realm, - In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, - Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm!” - -At length, leaping a slight fence, I made my way through a clovered -field, and then through a pretty grove, to what was once Blacklow hill. -Here is still a sort of cave, which I readily found among the hazels; -and on the eminence above it, rises a strongly built and severe looking -monument, surmounted by a cross of solid proportions, the whole -singularly adapted to the place and purpose. It is a work of late years, -and the happy thought of the proprietor of Guy’s Cliff. There was -something stirring, too, in reading, in the loneliness of that morning -hour, the following inscription on the face of the monument, viz:—“_In -the hollow of this rock was beheaded, July 1, 1312, by barons lawless as -himself, Piers Gaveson, Earl of Cornewall, the minion of a hateful king, -and in life and death a memorable instance of misrule._” What a picture -of the ferocious past was conjured up by that expression—“beheaded by -barons as lawless as himself.” The sweet Avon was flowing through the -meads below; there gleamed the feudal towers of Warwick, in the glowing -sunrise; and just so it was, that July morning, five hundred years ago, -when this rock rang with oaths and curses, the barkings of that fierce -Guy de Beauchamp, whom Gaveson had called “the black hound of Arden.” -That insult was here avenged in blood; but it only served to fire the -thirst of the regicide. Those features upturned to heaven, in the choir -of Gloucester, and those imploring hands of poor King Edward, came back, -in thought, once more. - -Pictures have made my readers familiar with the scenery of Guy’s Cliff. -There it stands, on the Avon—in unpretending beauty, ivied up to its -chimnies, here an oriel, and there a turret, the very ideal of a fair -lady’s bower, and one of the goodliest of “the merry homes of England.” -There is a mill over against it, where I stood and admired its quiet -romance, in the glory of that summer morning, as the gilding of the -sunlight lay on the cold gray of its towers. At the mill, the -farmer-lads were washing sheep, and as they plunged in the fleecy ewes, -and soused them over and over again, in the sparkling waters of the -Avon, I thought an artist would ask no fairer study, for his pencil, -than the scene before me. I confess I could not safely look on it -without repeating the _Tenth Commandment_, and I quite deposed my -project of renting the Gate-house of Kenilworth, in thinking how much -better I should like Guy’s Cliff for my habitation. - -My walk into Warwick, again, was full of pleasure. I heard the clock -strike in the tower of St. Mary’s, which I saw over a forest of trees, -gaily lighted by the sun; and then came a tune from its chime. I paused -before old houses, and stared at the curious ancient gateway, under -which we had passed in the night. After breakfast I visited the Church, -and especially the Beauchamp Chapel, where the ancient lords of Warwick -lie on their proud tombs, in sculptured mail, beside their dainty dames, -in more delicate attire. This chapel is, of its kind, the finest in the -kingdom; the superb tomb of Charles the Bold and Mary of Burgundy, when -I saw it at Bruges, reminded me of it, and seemed less imperial. I -cannot now recall it in detail, as I wish I could, for the sake of -accurate criticism; but at the time I was greatly struck with the state -and splendour of such _beauty—for ashes_! Fulke Greville’s monument is -also memorable, if only for the striking tribute it pays to private -friendship; for the inscription furnished by himself ekes out the fact -of his being “Councillor to King James,” by that of his claim to write -himself—“The friend of Sir Philip Sydney.” - -I went over Warwick Castle, of course, and surveyed the grounds from the -porter’s lodge, where are shown the armour and the porridge-pot of great -Guy, and fair Phælice’s slippers, to the garden-house, wherein is kept -the gigantic vase from Tivoli. What eyes for natural beauty had those -builders of old times! The Avon seems just here to be made for Warwick -Castle, and Warwick Castle seems made for it. On the whole, I have seen -no residence in Europe, save Windsor Castle, that seemed to me more -princely than this. ’Tis not the creation of vulgar opulence, or of an -Aladdin-like fortune—but it seems the growth of ages, and the natural -concentration of architectural beauty and strength. From its windows -such a view of the landscape—in the landscape such views of it! And -then its relics and antiquities; its pictures and its portraits; its -bed-rooms, and halls, and drawing-rooms; its boudoirs, and its bowers; -its chapel, and its whole together—who can but wonder at them, and who -would want them? Mine is not so vast an ambition—such “an unbounded -stomach.” On the whole I am so reasonable a man, that to gratify my -utmost longings for a home—this side “the house not made with hands”—I -would take Guy’s Cliff, and leave Warwick Castle untroubled by any writ -of ejectment from even a roving wish, or wild, ungoverned thought. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - - - _Stratford—Shakspeare._ - - -Only nine miles to Stratford-upon-Avon! With what a flush of delighted -expectation I climbed the coach, and left the Warwick Arms, in the hope -of beholding with my eyes, in less than two short hours, the home of -Shakspeare, and that world-famous church to which he bequeathed his -bones! And yet there was something like a misgiving at the heart. My -imagination had been familiar, for years, with a certain ideal of -Stratford, that had grown into my whole structure of thought concerning -Shakspeare and his times. It had been constructed from here a print, and -there a traveller’s tale, and had taken life and beauty from detached -anecdotes, and little inklings of historic light, that had come sweetly -to me from my boyhood, in some inexplicable manner. In part the product -of enthusiastic study, when college oil, that should have been burned in -honour of Euclid, and Napier, and Newton, was stealthily sacrificed at -the shrine of the great master of the human heart, I had possessed for -years, a Stratford of my own; a pet village of my soul, such as -Shakspeare should have lived in: and now—in a few hours, all this was -to be deposed forever; dull realities were to eclipse the brilliant -picture of the fancy, and thenceforth I must know only the Stratford of -fact. Would the realization pay me for the downfall of the vision? Alas! -what is life but a continual balance between loss and gain; what -pleasure do we acquire, without the sacrifice of something almost as -sweet? How long the boy looks at his bright penny before he gives it for -the toothsome sugar-plum; and how often the bright penny comes back to -him, as the substantial wealth, of which the moment’s gratification has -deprived him. - -As the coach began to draw near Stratford, I found myself greatly -excited; and every object began to assume a sort of conscious connection -with immortal genius. The very road,—but much more the trees,—and even -more, those features of the landscape which might be supposed unchanged -by the lapse of centuries, seemed instinct with their past communion -with a great creative mind. His spell was on them. He had once been -familiar with these scenes. He had gathered many an image, many a -thought, and, I doubt not, many a refreshing hope, from intercourse with -their spring and summer beauties; and they had been not less instructive -to him, perhaps, in the season of the sere-leaf, or in that of the -wintry wind. Yonder was Charlecote—beyond the Avon: its park still -stretching thro’ the vale, and hiding the old historic hall. But the -thought of that juvenile deer-stalking, gave speaking life to even the -distant scene. There is some sensitive principle in our nature, to which -such associations so powerfully appeal, that nothing is more real, for a -time, than the communion we hold with departed greatness, through the -medium of objects with which it was once conversant. This reality I -never felt so strongly as now. At last we came in sight of that -“star-ypointing pyramid”—the spire of Stratford. The gentle tumult of -feelings with which it ruffled my inmost nature, for a moment, and the -calm enjoyment that succeeded, were enough to pay me for crossing the -Atlantic. - -I was duly set down at the Red Horse Inn, and ushered into the trim -little parlour, and even into the elbow-chair, of which I had read, -aforetime, in the pages of Geoffrey Crayon. Mine host readily recognizes -an American, and never fails to produce, on such an occasion, the -“sceptre” of the said Geoffrey, wherewith he once poked the coals, in -the smoking grate of said parlour, and, for a tranquil moment, was -“monarch of all he surveyed.” Indeed, if Shakspeare reigns in Stratford, -it must be allowed that the Red Horse is, nevertheless, the principality -of Crayon, and that it is rapidly rising into a formidable rivalship of -New Place, and the Guildhall, on the strength of Crayon’s reputation, to -say nothing of the landlord’s ale. In short, no visitor to Stratford has -ever left there such a lasting impression of his footsteps, as our own -delightful Irving: and it was pleasant, indeed, thus, at the very -threshold of my visit, to find, even in the broad glare of Shakspeare’s -glory, the star of our countryman revolving steadily in its own peculiar -orbit, and shining as no mean satellite of that great central sun of -Anglo-Saxon literature. - -I should be a bold man, indeed, to attempt to add anything to Irving’s -description of Stratford-upon-Avon. I have only the adventures of my day -to tell of, and they were few and simple. I followed in the beaten track -to the old tumble-down cottage, which is called the birth-place of -Shakspeare, and which was doubtless the scene of his infancy. I -recognized at once, the original of many a well-thumbed print, and of -many a descriptive page. Timber from the forest of Arden; clay from the -bed of the Avon; sticks and mud at best compose the nest in which the -Mighty Mother brought the immortal Swan to light. It was once a better -nest than now. A butcher has degraded it to serve as shambles, and it -has yet the appearance of a stall for meat, although it is no longer -used, except as a relic, the show-woman being its only tenant. Here, in -spite of its transmutations, you cannot but fancy the elder Shakspeare, -“with spectacles on nose,” sitting in the spacious chimney, and teaching -little Will his alphabet, or telling him, beside the winter’s fire, of -the “mysteries” he had seen played, near by, at Coventry, when he was a -boy. Through the door, you seem yet to see the marvellous urchin, with -his satchel, creeping unwillingly to school: or, back he comes, with -shining face, to tell that the Queen’s players have just arrived from -London, to play “Troy-town,” at the Guildhall! Here, at all events, day -after day went over that mysterious young head, filling it with -impressions, not one of which ever seems to have escaped it, and -preparing its tenant genius to be the great bridge between old and -modern England, by means of which, feeling, as well as fact, runs on -continuously, in the line of English History, and gives it a unity and a -vitality which the annals of other nations lack. Oh, strange, immortal, -universal Will! How supernatural the interest that hangs about thine -every step, from the cradle to the grave. - -You ascend a few creaking stairs, and you are in the very room where the -first of his Seven Ages was, no doubt, duly signalized by himself, -“mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.” How many lives have been the -mere pendants of the life that here flickered in its first lighting, and -which a puff of air might have put out—the world none the sadder for -its loss! Yet now, how supreme the dominion of that one soul, these -scribbled walls attest; where vulgar enthusiasm is not more legible, -than that of the worldly great, of foreign scholars and sovereign -princes, and of intellectual autocrats scarce less imperial than -Shakspeare himself. How powerful the inspiration of the _genius loci_, -is best proved by the fact that among the scribblings one reads the -autograph of Walter Scott. Verily, there is no fame like Shakspeare’s! -Subduing, as he does, the instincts of all classes alike, and entering -as he does, into the sympathies of all nations, he must be regarded less -as a man of genius, than as a noble instrument of God, for subordinating -human passions and affections to some superior purpose of His own, -perhaps not yet conceived. The rise of a Christian literature, and that -the purest which the world has ever possessed, is dated from the age of -which he was the bright peculiar star; and the whole Anglo-Saxon race -must ever recognize in him the original master of many of its forms of -thought, a rich contributor to its idiom and language, and the -constructor of some of its strongest sentiments of civilization, of -morals, and of religion. - -The site of the New Place is occupied by a solid mansion, which, devoid -of interest in itself, commands a moment’s attention, as occupying the -spot on which Shakspeare’s prosperous days were passed, and which was -emphatically his home. All that remains of him, in this place, and its -immediate neighbourhood, is nevertheless soon seen and dismissed, as -nothing but the enthusiasm of an idolator would detect anything -specially attractive in a statue set up by Garrick at the Town Hall, and -a few other memorials, too minute, or too modern, to deserve much delay -in their inspection. I reserved my raptures for the walk to Shottery. -Striking into the fields, I pleased myself with the conviction that air -and earth are still very much the same in them, as when the boy -Shakspeare played truant, and sported among their sweets. The birds and -the flowers are still as gay as when he preferred to learn their -lessons, rather than the schoolmaster’s; and when I turned into a shady -lane, all green and white with hawthorn, or plucked the peas’ blossom in -the upland, or the buttercup and daisy in the meadow, I felt sure that -his foot had fallen where they grew, and that they had given him -pleasure, and taught him morals, which the world has willingly taken at -second-hand, and will never “willingly let die.” Yes, the very labouring -oxen, and the pasturing cows, seemed to me of a superior breed. -Short-horn, or Devonshire, or whatever they may be to the farmer, they -were, in my esteem, not less than Shaksperean beef fed on the grass of -Stratford, and feeding my imagination with images of the animated nature -of the same scenery, as it was three hundred years ago. I came to -several pretty farm cottages, with shrubbery in their little door-yards, -and at one of these I knocked, thinking it must be Anne Hathaway’s; but -the damsel who opened the door seemed not much flattered by the inquiry, -for Anne, though she was Shakspeare’s wife, was not an honest woman, by -the parish register, and has little honour in her own village. However, -the damsel pointed out my way, with milk-maid courtesy, and away I went -with traveller-like apologies. Here, then, at last, was the scene of -Will’s discreditable courtship; and here, if they deceived me not, -descendants of the Hathaways live still. The house is in two parts, like -nave and chancel in ecclesiastical architecture; timbered and plastered, -like the birth-place aforesaid, and thatched in the picturesque style so -dear to Crayon artists and sketchers; its little windows peeping out of -the straw, like sharp eyes under the shaggy brows of an old pensioner, -sunning himself in front of an ale-house. I am glad to say that roses, -and other flowers, were duly set about the cottage, as one which I -plucked, and brought away, bears witness. They showed me some old -Hathaway furniture, and among others an enormous bedstead of Elizabethan -date, on which, they would have me believe, that many of the poet’s -dreams had visited him. There was also an ancient oaken chair: and -finally, some bed and table linen was taken out of an old chest. It was -evidently homespun, and they believed it to be Anne’s work, as well as -property. With this view of the matter, however, the initials E. H. did -not entirely agree, and although I was inclined to yield this objection -at the moment, when credulity was allowable, I do not now flatter myself -that I have seen the bedstead or the bed-clothes of Shakspeare. It is -something better that I have seen the Church in which he was christened, -and where he now lies, under the chancel; and where he was taught to -pray; and where he often knelt, one would fain believe, in true -contrition; and where he learned, from some lowly parson, unknown to -fame, many of those sublime and gospel verities, which have given, even -to his poorer themes, their savor of immortality. - -The avenue of limes which leads to the church-porch, is rather stiff -than otherwise. The “way to Parish Church” was probably unpaved, and -perhaps unshaded, when Will tottered over it, to be catechised; or when, -in maturer years, he sought the House of God with reverence, among the -multitude that kept holy day. The Church itself is of Anglo-Norman date, -and was originally such in its architecture, but has frequently been -altered and repaired, at various periods. It is cruciform, and would be -not unworthy of a visit for its own sake. The churchyard is full of -graves, and the Avon flows under its walls. I sat there, for nearly an -hour, quite alone, trying to grasp the full idea of the spot. A lubberly -scow came paddling along on the turbid river; and the rooks started up, -and then lighted upon the old gray tower; and some sheep came nibbling -among the graves; and finally, two or three children ran about me, and -kept me company, for awhile; but oh! how unconscious seemed all these of -the great reality of the place, and how still and solemnly the poet -slumbered on, in his sepulchre, unconscious of this prosy nineteenth -century, which thus wags on without him. I took out my tablets in a sort -of reverie; wrote down the date, and scribbled on at random, as follows: -‘Here, in the churchyard of Stratford, I am sitting on the stone-wall, -which defends it from the Avon, and at the foot of which, its fringe of -flags grows rank, amid the slime. The sun, through the half-misty -atmosphere, is falling tenderly on the limes; birds are singing; a rook -cawing; nobody is near, but the breeze whispers, socially, through the -elms overhead. How still the old spire points up to heaven! How dearly -the grass clings to the tower and belfry, growing there in every “coigne -of vantage!” And this quiet old chancel, too! Within these walls was -Shakspeare made a member of Christ, and here he waits the Judgment. Oh, -Will! how much for thee imports the Scripture, “_by thy words_ thou -shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned!”’ - -The old legendary sexton of Irving’s visit has passed away, and another -reigns in his stead. Availing myself of his keys, I excused him from any -further effort of his tongue, and surveyed the solemn interior in peace. -Here, too, the hand of restoration has been freshly at work, and has set -the holy house in order. The Church which enfolds the tomb of Shakspeare -is dedicated to the Holy Trinity—the God who made him, and whom he -adored. The meagre god of unbelief would never have filled such a soul -as his, or moved him to kneel down; but how often that overwhelming -Mystery of Faith must have thrilled him here, as he repeated the creed, -or chanted the _Te Deum!_ At last I stood before the famous bust, and -looked upon that sublime forehead, and those composed features, and said -to it silently those brotherly lines of Milton, which the sight brings -naturally to mind. Then I read the inscription, and spelled out, letter -by letter, the words of that imprecatory verse, in which Shakspeare’s -self is as legible as anything else. “Good friend, for Jesu’s sake,” -etc.—_Amen_, was my response. It was a moment to remember, but not to -describe. - -I next tried to satisfy myself as to the sense of _Mistriss Hall’s_ -epitaph, which is ambiguous; and on which the inspection of the original -throws little additional light. It tells us _first_, that she was “witty -above her sexe,” and _second_, that she was “wise to salvation,” and -then adds: - - “Something of Shakspeare was in _that_—but _this_ - Wholly of him, with whom she’s now in blisse.” - -Now, of course, this _him_ must mean her Saviour, with whom she is in -Paradise; yet, it may mean, for all that, her father Shakspeare; and the -question is, was not the ambiguity a quaint conceit, and intended to be -a doublet? If so, as it has often struck me, whatever we may think of -its taste, it is an important testimony to the maturer character of the -poet; since its secondary meaning would be, to give it in -paraphrase—that her wit had something in it of Shakspeare, but that her -piety was wholly learned of her father, with whom she now reaps its -reward. Now if we exclude this idea, it would almost seem to force us -into the sad reverse; for certainly, as it is first read, it seems to -imply that she was not indebted to her father for any of her religion, -though she was for her wit. Of course, it may be answered, that _wisdom -unto salvation_ is so exclusively from Christ, as its meritorious cause, -that nothing else is to be taken into account, as its instrument; but is -this the sole idea of the verse? Very likely; and yet after all, I -wonder that its ambiguous character has never attracted the attention of -the many who have raked and scraped the very dust of Stratford for -something rich and strange. Certain it is, that, like many readings of -Shakspeare himself, it wants but a change of emphasis, from word to -word, to give two or three different senses, any one of which is -tolerable, although it is an intolerably bad epitaph, after all. - -I believe the droppings of this Church of Stratford bedew the works of -Shakspeare, from the first sonnet to the last play, and that here he was -schooled to that strict law of his dramas, which runs through all, and -by which he always “shows virtue her own feature, and scorn her own -image,” instead of fitting the mask of propriety upon the front of -shame. More than all, it was here that he learned that reverence for the -name of Jesus, with which he so often embalms his pages, and which so -often makes them melodious to a believer’s ear and heart. How much, too, -the first and second lesson out of “the Bishop’s Bible”—how much the -Epistle and Gospel, and the Psalter, taught him, not only of sonorous -English, but of Christian doctrine and morals! I am sure these -influences may be detected in his works; and as I looked at the very -spot where his young idea was taught to shoot toward heaven, I felt that -this was the sublimest association of the place. Here once (my fancy -suggested) he may have heard in the lesson for the day—_suffer chyldren -to come unto Me_, and then, a few verses afterwards, he must have been -struck with the contrast, when the parson read on—_it is easier for a -camell to go thorow a nedle’s eye_, etc. He was now a prosperous man, -and had just purchased New-Place, and obtained a grant of Arms. His -conscience therefore pricked him with the question—Was he one of the -rich men for whom admission into heaven was to be so hard? The parson -mounted the pulpit, and quoted much learned stuff out of Sir John -Maundeville, to explain the orientalism of the lesson: and among other -things, he threw out the idea that the postern gate of an Eastern city -was so small, that it was impossible for a beast of burthen to pass -through it, and was usually called “the needle’s eye,” and hence the -force of the comparison. All this, Shakspeare, who was thinking his own -thoughts, heard only incoherently, and he got a somewhat confused idea -of the _postern_ and _needle_; but being, just then, at work on his -Richard the Second, he goes home, and puts his Sunday reverie into the -mouth of his hero, thus:— - - “My thoughts of things divine are intermixed - With scruples, and do set the word itself - Against the word, - As thus—_Come little ones_; and then, again, - _It is as hard to come, as for a camel_ - _To thread the postern of a needle’s eye._” - -Such at least is the story, which this passage suggests to me as, very -possibly, the way in which it came to him. I often trace to a similar -source, that is, to the open Scriptures, and the vernacular services of -the Church of England, the innumerable Siloan streams which freshen and -even sanctify his verse. The great themes of redemption may be found -richly illustrated in many passages; and I think I could select from his -works enough of sacred poetry to fill a little volume, and one fit to be -kept as a companion to the Prayer-Book and the Christian Year. I cannot -credit the scandal that Shakspeare died of a debauch, nor do I believe -he was less than an ordinary Christian. While the secrets of his heart -are with his God, we may at least, in Christian charity, believe that -the friend of publicans and sinners may have seen in him a practical -dependence upon that Atonement which, by the mouth of Portia, he has -preached so well:— - - —“Therefore, Jew, - Though justice be thy plea, consider this, - That in the course of justice none of us - Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy.” - -As I departed, I plucked a branch of ivy from the Church wall, near the -spot where his dust awaits the resurrection. It was brought home with me -to America—the land in which he has more readers than anywhere else in -the whole world. How little he foresaw this, when in compliment to James -the First, he recorded (if the passage be his own) the prediction that -James should “make new nations;” adding—what proves rather true of -himself— - - “Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, - His honour, and the greatness of his name - Shall be!” - -A threatening rain prevented my walking to Charlecote, but I went away -contented. I was inclined to indulge a little in Jacques’ vein, and the -melancholy clouds began to favour us with congenial tears, as—reduced -to sober prose—I made my way in the storm, on the top of a stage-coach, -through what was once the Forest of Arden. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - - - _Haddon Hall—Chatsworth—Shrewsbury—Chester._ - - -After renewing my acquaintance with the hospitable friends at B——, -with whom I had passed my Easter, I made an excursion into Derbyshire, -with an episodical trip to Nottingham. My chief attraction to this -latter place was that of an invitation from sundry relatives of my B—— -friends to visit them, though the town is certainly well worthy of being -visited for itself. For the sake of poor Kirke-White, one would wish to -hunt up his lowly birth-place, and some would say that Newstead Abbey -deserves a traveller’s homage. In fact, the Park and Abbey are the great -charm of the neighbourhood, to most visitors; but I must own that I -could not bring myself to make a pilgrimage to the scene of those orgies -for which it is chiefly distinguished. On making some such remark to a -worthy ex-magistrate of the borough, I was struck with the downright -English common sense of his reply,—“You are quite right”—said he—“no -one thinks much of Lord Byron, in these parts, where he was known; he -cheated the tradesmen with whom he had dealings, and made himself so -odious, that when his remains were brought through Nottingham, to be -buried, we could not make up our minds to pay him any honours!” So much -for romance and misanthropy! Genius, without honour and morality, is -despicable indeed: and one even doubts the sentimental refinement of the -man, of whom an intimate friend and companion could say, with anything -like epigrammatic truthfulness, that “he cried for the press, and wiped -his eyes with the public.” - -A visit to the castle, and its caves, to which my reverend friend from -B—— conducted me, well repaid us for our walk to the eminence on which -it stands in ruins. It belonged to the late Duke of Newcastle, and was -burned, as I remember very well, during the Reform riots, by an -infuriate mob: but it is supposed, that the stiff old aristocrat whom -they meant to injure, was very well pleased with the outrage. He did not -inhabit it; he was well reimbursed for his loss; and was relieved from -the tax of keeping up an unnecessary residence. The caves which -undermine the castle, are famous for their historical connection with -the story of the “She-wolf of France:” for through them was made the -entrance into the fortress, which resulted in the arrest of Isabella and -her paramour. They still point out a certain cave, as Mortimer’s; but -the whole rock is riddled by fissures and loop-holes, and appears to be -very soft and friable. From the summit one gets a beautiful view of -Clifton-grove and the Vale of Trent; and on another side of Belvoir -Castle, (pronounced _Beaver_,) the seat of the Duke of Rutland. The -“Field of the Standard” is near the castle, and I surveyed, with deep -feeling, the spot where King Charles set up his ensign, to be torn down -by the storm the same night, and to be even more unfortunate, in the -issue, than the omen seemed to require. After a visit to a few of the -churches and public buildings, and a single night under one of its -roofs, I was off to Derbyshire. - -With Derby itself I was not long detained, though I cannot but remember, -with pleasure, the acquaintance I formed there with several very -agreeable persons. Perhaps the most interesting thing about Derby is the -historical reminiscence, that here the progress of the Stuart standard -was finally, and forever arrested. It is surprising that “Royal Charlie” -ever succeeded in pushing his invasion to this point: but thus much he -effected, in the fatal ’45, and the spot where he was lodged, in Derby, -is still shown by the townsfolk, with interest, if not enthusiasm. - -Even railway glimpses of Derbyshire give one many pleasurable emotions, -abounding as it does in beautiful valleys and streams, and in abrupt -rocky hills—jocosely described by Walton, as frightful and savage, to -such a degree that he affects surprise at the sight of a church among -them, and asks whether there be verily any Christians in such a country. -When, at last, I found myself strolling along the Wye, and conversing -with an angler, in the green mead, just within sight of the battlements -of Haddon Hall, all the delicious nature and good humour of old Izaak -came upon me, and observing that nothing near me seemed to be of modern -fashion, I was almost transported back two centuries, and fancied myself -for a moment at his side, learning, like _Venator_, to love angling, and -so to weather the evil days of Cromwell—studying to be quiet in that -vocation, and to mind my own business, as the apostle doth enjoin. It -had been my purpose to visit Dove-dale, in honour of Walton, but this I -found impracticable, and the nearest I could come to it was now -realized. Blessings on his worthy memory! for though I be not an -accepted brother of the angle, having never enjoyed great luck when I -have gone a fishing, yet do I allow the art all honour, and do consider -it the becoming recreation for a Churchman; admitting its connection -with the catechism, and saying _Amen_ to divers other postulates of -Walton, of like grave and self-evident character. - -I must own that I found Haddon Hall of considerably less dimensions than -I had foreshadowed to my fancy. I had supposed its smallest chamber one -of those gigantic apartments, in which candles and fire-light must -strive in vain to throw their illumination from the chimney-piece to the -opposite wainscot; or in which a nocturnal guest might find the freest -exercise of imagination, in looking after noises, towards the dark -distance, from the lamp at his bedside, of the waving hangings and -creaking doors. It is not altogether such a house as that; and yet if -there be a better site for the residence of a ghost, or a troop of them, -I have never seen it. Your nervous man should never try to lodge there. -It is stripped of nearly all its furniture, save only such as is -requisite to give full effect to midnight sounds and mysterious -moanings. Its history is lost in that of the dim and traditionary ages -of the Plantagenets; the windows of its lonely chapel bear the date -1427; and the last touches of the builder were given to it at least -three hundred years ago. There it stands—a relic of the domestic -architecture of feudal England. Here are turreted and embattled -gate-ways, and quadrangular courts, enclosed as if to stand a siege. The -kitchen is designed for the largest hospitality; spits, dressers and -chopping block, all speaking of the bountiful housekeeping of the olden -time—to say nothing of the vast chimneys, which seem made to roar with -Christmas fires perpetually. You ascend a great stair-case, on which it -seems almost profane to set a modern foot, so entirely does it bespeak -its ancient right to be trodden by the doughty and dainty steps of lords -and dames, in the attire of by-gone centuries. You enter a room hung -with antique tapestry, now ready to drop into tatters. You push-to the -old squeaking doors, and drop these hangings, and it no longer appears -how you got in, or how you may get out. You understand at once the -allusions of many an old play, and almost expect to find some thievish -figure lurking behind the arras. Hangings they truly are, for hooks are -built into the wall, and to these the arras are attached. But the “Long -Gallery” is the place in which a ghost would naturally air himself. It -is wainscoated and floored with oak, and ornamented with various carved -devices and emblems, such as the rose, and the thistle, and the boar’s -head; and then it has deep recessed window-seats and oriels; and some of -them look out on the sunny terraces of the garden, and suggest vague -ideas of romance, and create phantom ladies of olden time, to fill up -the scene, and rich illustrative stories to make them interesting. No -doubt real hearts have throbbed here with high and tender emotions: and -events which we know only as the dry details of history, have filled -these silent chambers with notes of joy or sorrow, with the wail of the -widow or the forlorn maiden, or with the voice of the bridegroom and the -bride. The stately Elizabeth is said to have once figured in this -gallery, at a ball. - -The architecture of the great hall is severely antique, and suggests a -rude and uncivil age, in spite of its air of dignity and hospitality. -The men who dined here evidently wore swords, and the loving-cup and -health-drinking were no mere ceremonies; the party who drank, as he -lifted his arm, looking narrowly at the friend who stood up to guard -him. A hand-cuff which is fastened to the wood-work seems to hint that -guests were sometimes troublesome after taking plenty of sack. I could -think of nothing but Twelfth-night revels in this curious old place, -adorned as it is with the antlers of stags that were hunted long ago, -and whose venison once smoked on the board. - -The terraced gardens, with their shades, and balusters, and steps, and -walks, and portals, are in keeping with all the rest, and the tale of -the Lady Dorothea Vernon, and of her mysterious elopement, is enough to -fill them with the charm of romance. From one of the towers you look -down upon the whole range of roofs and courts, and then gaze far away -over a beautiful view of the vale of Haddon. Before you depart you are -shown some ancient utensils belonging to the place, such as jack-boots, -and match-locks, and doublets. These are kept in the apartment of my -reverend brother, the domestic chaplain, whoever he may have been; but -whether he had any use for such things I cannot bear testimony. The -adjoining chapel in which he officiated is very small, and quite plain. -The ancient piscina, beside the altar, tells its simple story of the -rites which, according to the mediæval liturgy of England, hallowed it -of yore. It conjured up before my fancy the midnight mass of Christmas, -as described by Scott— - - “That night alone, of all the year, - Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.” - -It was, at any rate, no Tridentine Eucharist, though it was a mutilated -one; and sad as were the scenes of debauchery with which those -solemnities are associated, I could not but trust that, even here, -Christ crucified had been truly worshipped, of old, on the solemn feast -of his Nativity, and on many other occasions of Christian joy or -penitence. Who would not cling to such communion with ancient piety? And -yet this natural sympathy, when morbidly developed, has done more than -all things else together, to bewitch the imaginative with Romanism, and -to make them slavish captives to a Church which has retained nothing -mediæval except that newfangled creed, to which the departed spirit of -Mediæevalism has bequeathed none of its poetry, and which only exists as -the inanimate slough of its superstition. - -Compared with Haddon Hall, the superb modern residence of Chatsworth -struck me as tame and spiritless. The mansion has indeed a pleasant -seat: and the deer, bounding over the velvet turf of its park, or the -peacock, strutting amid its balusters and fountains, give it indeed a -lordly look of opulent show, without much ease. Yet what is it, at best, -but the dull round of “my lord’s apartments,” without one association -beyond that of my lord’s great wealth and luxury? I should be ashamed to -confess, indeed, that I was not pleased with the pictures, and more than -pleased with the exquisite carvings and magnificent sculpture, viewed -merely as works of art; but I was fatigued with the vast worldliness of -such a house, and felt that it would better have suited a Hadrian, than -it does a Christian nobleman of England. Such a residence as Warwick -Castle comes to its possessor historically, and a nobleman may well keep -it up; but Chatsworth seems built for display, and must be altogether -too much for comfort. I am glad if its possessor enjoys it—but I should -rather dwell in the humblest parsonage in England. Nature itself, as -seen from the windows of Chatsworth, has a combed and dressy look. Its -vast conservatory—the original of the Crystal Palace—is well worth a -visit, and its gardens are curious enough, but the water-works are -elaborately frivolous. I was promised a fine artificial cataract—but -lo! in the side of a beautiful hill I saw a stone stair-case, and -by-and-by the water came sluggishly down stairs, like a little girl, in -white dress, afraid to let go of the hand rail, as she leaps timidly -from step to step. “Good morning, Miss Cataract,” said I, “that will -do!” - -The same clipped and artificial beauty belongs to the neighbouring -village of Edensor, and the whole seems the more unreal as contrasting -violently with the natural features of this wild and ruggedly beautiful -country. I am glad to have seen Chatsworth, but I should not care to see -it again, though the desolate Haddon Hall never recurs in my memory, -without awakening fresh longings to be once more in Derbyshire, and to -saunter again along its rushing Wye. - -With my visit to Matlock Bath, I was much better satisfied. Here indeed -is Derbyshire, in spite of spruce inns and fashionable boarding-houses. -I scampered over the hills, (having first climbed them with more -pleasure than fatigue,) and went from view to view with increasing -transports. This region is all cliff and ravine, and precipice and -chasm; yet in every direction the eye is refreshed and delighted, and -the mind takes pleasure alike in thinking that it is scarcely English -scenery, and that it is yet strikingly unlike anything but England after -all! These sharp outlines, and bold walls of rock, for example, you say -are somewhat Swiss; but as you look over them, towards the horizon, you -see that their foliage and their verdure are English, absolutely; and -then, looking down the chasm, at your feet, you see a trim and neat -little village, and houses set in gardens, and peeping out from -shrubbery, and especially a church, altogether such as no one ever sees -save in England only! I entered the Speedwell mine, and went through the -usual experiments with lights amid the spar, but, on the whole, the -subterranean part of Matlock was what I liked least about it. I felt -lonely, however, in enjoying my ramble about so beautiful a place, and -the company of certain loved ones in America was longed for over and -over again to make it all that I desired. From this delightful place I -made my way to Shrewsbury. - -Beautiful is Shrewsbury, without and within! Its spires and its towers -give you far-off promise of a place worthy of the traveller’s halt, and -when you enter its old-fashioned streets, you are not disappointed. I -found the market-place, with its hall and surrounding mansions, quite as -unmodernized as those of towns in the north of France. The projecting -gable of many an old timbered house confronts you as you go hither and -thither through the borough, and very often the woodwork of such houses -is fancifully arranged and ornamented, in a manner highly effective and -picturesque. Their modern tenants paint the timbers with grave, but -appropriate colours, and whitewash the plastered walls which intervene, -thus bringing out the full design of the ancient architect in a neat and -striking manner. I saw, in one of the streets, a chair carried by -bearers, precisely as in Hogarth’s prints, and which seemed to have been -in use ever since Hogarth’s day. Its occupant was a portly female, who -might have graced the Court of Queen Anne, so far as her appearance was -concerned, and what with such an apparition, in a place altogether so -antique, I found myself for a moment quite in doubt whether the -nineteenth century were actually in existence, with its many inventions. - -I went through the beautiful and finely-wooded field called _the -Quarry_, and the walk called _St. Chad’s_, and crossed one of the -bridges over the Severn to the Abbey Church. Here I found some -interesting monuments and architectural curiosities; and the -neighbourhood seemed to abound in similar relics of what must once have -been a very large conventual establishment. At St. Mary’s, there was a -Jesse-window and some tombs, which afforded me a gratifying occupation -for awhile; then the ruins of an old castle, such as they are, attracted -me; and, though last, not least, the fragments of a very ancient church, -being merely its chancel, dedicated to St. Chad. The school in which Sir -Philip Sydney was reared, and where Fulke Grevil became his friend, -still swarms with the ingenuous youth of England, and I encountered them -at every turn, in the highways and by-ways of the town. What an element -of education it must be of itself for a lad to be sent to a school that -has such a history! Such thoughts made me faint of heart for a moment, -when I felt the irreparable poverty of my own country in historical -associations. The inestimable dowry of a glorious antiquity can never -mingle its ennobling qualities with our national character. We may, and -we do, enjoy immense compensations; but what reflective American does -not give way at times to a melancholy sense that he has indeed “no past -at his back,” and that God has isolated him involuntarily, by this great -fact, from the fellowship of nations! “But here comes a Shrewsbury boy,” -said I, amid such thoughts, “what cares he for Sydney, more than an -ordinary American lad at school?” Sure enough! Why then be sentimental? -It is, after all, only a certain class of minds, that receives powerful -impressions from anything past or future: and I believe an American -youth can enjoy such impressions effectively, by means of a healthful -imagination, while an English youth may often find it hard to divest the -realities with which he is daily conversant, of the degrading effects of -familiarity. Such is my calmer judgment. - -I tasted the famous “Shrewsbury cakes” at the station-house, and having -spent several hours “by Shrewsbury clock,” in this pleasing survey of -the old borough, I left it with regret, purposing to return, and to make -excursions from it to a neighbouring seat to which I had been kindly -invited, and also to Hodnet, which I greatly desired to see, in honour -of the gentle and beloved Heber. In these plans, however, I was -disappointed. As you leave Shrewsbury for the north, you gain a most -agreeable view of the town, which stands on a fair peninsula in the -bright embrace of the Severn. It is a place full of poetry. On one side -are the Welsh Mountains; on the other, amid Salopian fields, you descry -the columnar monument of Lord Hill; but the tall spires and the Abbey -Tower tell more eloquently of Hotspur. - -At Chirk station a Welsh family entered the train, gabbling their -consonants most unintelligibly; but I soon discovered from their adieus, -and their tears and sighs, that they were emigrants going to Liverpool -to ship for America. This stirred up a warm home-feeling: I found that -one of them could talk English, and I was not long in finding a way to -their hearts. They were going to Wisconsin, and were very willing to be -advised on ordinary matters. I tried, also, to impress them with my own -ideas of the privileges they might enjoy under the care of the Nashotah -Missionaries; but I fear they were dissenters, as the Welsh peasantry -too often are, and that my endeavours to add to the burthens of my -esteemed brethren of that diocese were quite unavailing. I slept that -night at Chester. - -But I despair of describing Chester. Elsewhere in England you meet with -ancient houses and picturesque streets; but Chester is all antiquity. -What you would go miles to see, when in search of the quaintly -beautiful, is here multiplied before you in almost every house. In the -first place it is a walled town. I made the circuit of the walls in the -morning, with constant emotions of astonishment; for they are in good -repair, and seem even yet to have their use, whereas, I had imagined -them to be mere relics of the past. I came to the Tower upon the wall, -from the summit of which Charles the First beheld the total rout of his -army. It is a mere watch-tower; but as the memorial of a great event, it -would be hard to imagine a monument more striking. There is much more to -interest the passenger as he goes on, looking now into houses built into -the wall like swallows’ nests, and now into church-yards, and now into a -race-course, and again into a river: but a thoughtful tourist, and -especially one from America, will find it hard to think of anything but -that Tower, and the mighty issues which were once deciding before it, in -view of an august and awfully interested spectator. Poor King! as he -descended from it, what must have been his emotions? - -The streets of Chester are said still to preserve the outlines of the -Roman camp, from which the town derives its name. They are a great -curiosity in themselves, and seem to have been cut down into the rock, -while the houses were reared on the banks, above the level thus -obtained. And such houses! Gable after gable, timbered, pargetted, -enriched with carving, and jutting over the street—each one “a picture -for painters to study!” And where are the _trottoirs_, or side-walks? -Lo! the houses all run down to the carriage-way; but what should be -their front rooms, above the basement floor, are mere verandahs, through -the whole line of which freely walks the public, always under cover, and -always at home! These “rows” (even more than the walls) are the feature -of Chester which most strikes the stranger; especially as the opposite -houses, which he beholds in passing through them, are full of curious -objects for any one whose eye delights in the antique. On one, for -example, are rich emblematic or fanciful decorations and carvings; on -another, a scene from Scripture history is cut in uncouth style; while -another bears the legend: _God’s providence is mine inheritance_, 1652. -A good inheritance always, but especially in Cromwell’s time. The -guide-book says, that in the great plague of the year thus designated, -this house was the only one which the destroying angel did not visit. -Hence the pious inscription. - -But there is no doing justice to old Chester, on a tourist’s page. Its -cathedral is a poor one, and so crumbling are its walls and buttresses, -that every shower washes down a plentiful soil, from the decomposing -stone. I lingered without weariness, however, in its aisles and -cloisters, and must say that its service was sung delightfully, although -the singers were few, and the clergy fewer still. The same disgraceful -poverty and lifelessness, which I had remarked elsewhere, characterized -the visible force of the establishment; and I could not but say to -myself, if this feeble performance is, nevertheless, so edifying and -effective, what might not be the blessed result of a vitalized cathedral -body, serving God night and day in His Temple, as God should be always -served, in this rich and ancient Church of an empire which professes to -be Christian, and which God has so unspeakably exalted among the nations -of the earth. - -The other ecclesiastical objects of the town were duly visited, and then -I took a boat on the Dee, and was rowed toward Eaton Hall, which I -finally reached on foot, after a walk through the surrounding park. This -was, till very lately, regarded as the finest possible specimen of -modern Gothic, in the domestic line, and a vast amount of Cockney -admiration has been wasted on it. I found it undergoing repairs, which -must greatly improve it; but, after all, it is a meagre thing, when one -has seen the Gothic of the cathedrals, or of such a castle as -Kenilworth. I did not see much of the interior, as visitors were -necessarily excluded, in favour of the workmen; and so after visiting -the conservatories, and various outlying dependencies of this great -house, I left it, not greatly overwhelmed with what I had seen. I was -better pleased with my return voyage, on the Dee, and with the -river-view of Chester. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - - - _A Trip into Wales._ - - -From the walls of Chester, one has a very tempting prospect before him -in the mountains of Wales. To Wales I now took my way, and first of all -alighted at Holywell station, to visit the wondrous shrine and fountain -of St. Winifred. A Welsh lady had advised me, by all means, to pay this -homage to her native place, and had sportively prepared me to see -something very strange, indeed, in the legendary well of its tutelar. -The story which she told me was this, in short: that the well had sprung -from the earth, in the olden time, just where the head of the Holy -Winifred, fair and lovely as it was, touched the earth, when her -barbarous lover, Caradoc, smote it off, to revenge his disappointed -passion. Be this as it may, I found, in Holywell, a very remarkable pool -and fountain, by which lay a great number of impotent folk, as formerly -they did at Bethesda, in Jewry, waiting for the moving of the waters. -But no—these waters always move. The fountain gushes up with violence, -and runs with a full tide. Whether it cures or not, I cannot say. It is -supposed to do so; and is used for healing purposes by hundreds. The -crutches of many of those who have been healed, are reverently hung up -over the well; and several inscriptions have been cut, deep in the stone -walls and pillars of the Church which rises above it, expressive of -gratitude for cure. Here James the Second came to worship, in his -dotage, in 1686. The Irish Romanists, and modern converts, consider it a -sort of duty to uphold the miraculous reputation of the well, and are -very zealous in such tributes to the legend and the saint. One may -certainly believe that it is a healing spring, without swallowing the -whole story about St. Winifred; and for one, I am far from unwilling to -see such springs resorted to, and used, in a religious spirit, as the -gift of God. Nay, if we might but have the truth, and not a -“superstitious vanity,” I should rejoice to see them connected with the -memory of God’s saints; and, as I washed in the crystal waters, I -allowed myself to believe that the spot had indeed been famous for some -holy martyrdom, which perverse ingenuity has distorted into the fable -aforesaid—of which I have only given the least ridiculous part. A fine -and fragrant moss, which grows about the well, and some red spots in the -stone, have furnished additional material to the fabulists, which -tradition has not failed to preserve; but the light and graceful temple -which rises over it, with a figure of the saint, and which is ascribed -to Margaret, the mother of Henry the Seventh, is its most substantial -monument. It is now a chapel of the adjoining parish church, and I found -it filled with plain benches, and used for a Sunday-school room, and for -service in the English tongue. - -But I was _en route_ for the vale of Clwyd, (pronounced _Clooyd_,) and -so landing at Rhyl, I took a Welsh jaunting-car to St. Asaph. At the -very entrance of the vale stands an old historic castle, in utter ruins, -but overhung with ivy, and nobly bastioned, and presenting a very -venerable appearance. It was built before the Norman invasion, and -stands near the scene of that ancient battle, still commemorated in the -national air—_Morva Rhuddlan_—which is full of traditional melancholy -and plaintive sweetness. Near Rhuddlan Castle a bridge spans the Clwyd, -adding a very picturesque feature to the scene; and just as you descend -to the bridge, you observe, on the projecting wall of a mean cottage, -the following inscription: “_This fragment is the remains of the -building in which King Edward the First held his Parliament, A. D. -1283_.” Oh! what a romantic land is Wales. England is fine prose; but -Wales is all poetry. Even here I fell in love with it; for Rhuddlan is a -truly historic pile. Almost its meanest memory is that of the progress -of the second Richard, who tarried here on his way to Flint, to be -deposed by Bolingbroke. Its latest memory, however, is that of the -national Bardic Festival, called an _Eisteddfod_, which was celebrated -here in 1850, with sad if not fatal results. A staging gave way, during -the performance, and several of the fair and noble received severe -contusions. - -I enjoyed a pleasant ride to St. Asaph, which finally disclosed to my -view a cathedral of very unpretending dimensions, on a pretty hill, with -a few houses grouped under its shadow, and a sightly bridge of stone. -This the _City_ of St. Asaph! Even so—for it is an ancient Episcopal -See, and therefore it is a city, while Liverpool is but a town. -Therefore do I love St. Asaph, because, of all cities I ever saw, it -looks most like a village. Indeed, as a village it would be much to my -liking, as still and quiet above most villages, and sweetly embosomed -among trees, over which the solid tower of the ancient church presides -with a motherly air, and ticks a sleepy time from its solemn clock. It -was Saturday night when I reached the Mostyn Arms, and ordered my -supper, and my bed-room. ‘Here then,’ said I, ‘I will spend a Sunday in -supremest loneliness; here I know nobody and am known of none; I will be -a mystery to mine host of the inn, who seems to have no other guest, -dropping nothing of mine errand in these parts, but going my way on -Monday morning, with an air of dignified secrecy, and leaving him to -imagine, as he may, what could have brought me to St. Asaph.’ - -A quiet breakfast at the inn was served with such noiseless neatness and -despatch, at the appointed hour, that I grew sad with my bachelor -comfort, feeling first, that I ought not to enjoy so much, except at -home, and then longing to be there. It was not my hostess’s -unimpeachable fare; bread all crisp without, and all snowy sponge -within; butter golden and fragrant; prawns, gathered freshly from the -clean sands of Rhyl; eggs, that were never cold, and that now were hot -to the very second of culinary time; and divers varieties and fruits -that feasted the imagination even more than they gratified the taste; it -was not this substantial and meritorious breakfast that made the Mostyn -Arms a delightful resting-place; but it was that entire order and -decency that invested all, and that forbade the idea of a _hotel_, and -seemed to remind me that it was Sunday; it was this that first charmed -me, and then made me lonely, and then positively sad. There is often a -domestic character about such an inn, in England and Wales, that is -positively religious. I remember one, in which the innkeeper always -invited his guests to family prayers. - -The cathedral is the very plainest of its kind, but the choir is not -without effective dignity and beauty. I attended the morning service, -which was that of Pentecost, with exceeding pleasure; and yet I observed -with pain, that except the children of the Sunday-school, there were few -present, who were not, unmistakeably, of the higher classes, or at least -of those which are considered very respectable. Where were the poor? The -liveried servants of the neighbouring gentry, in their powder and plush, -were perhaps of the humblest class represented; but, of course, they are -not the people. I was pleased, however, to see several of them kneeling -with their masters’ families at the Holy Communion. - -After service, I was lingering among the tombs, in the churchyard, and -had particularly observed that of the excellent Bishop Barrow, when one -of the clergy approached me, and said, “You are a clergyman, I’m sure; I -beg you’ll come home with me to dinner!” Never was I so much surprised, -in my life, by such a salutation. Welsh hospitality was proving more -than a Highland welcome! I expressed my scruples to accept an invitation -which was probably based on the idea that I was an Englishman, and a -clergyman of the National Church; but only so much the more did my new -acquaintance press me to dine with him, offering to take me, after -dinner, to a little Welsh parish, in the mountains, where he promised -that I should hear the service in Welsh, and also a Welsh sermon, from -himself. So very attractive a bill it was impossible to resist, and -presenting my card, I promised to be at the appointed place, at the -proper hour. But I little knew how great a pleasure was in store for me. - -I easily found my way to the house, which stood back from the road; a -modest mansion, encircled with trees and shrubs. My friend himself -opened the door, uttering a Welsh salutation, which he interpreted to me -by a warm grasp of the hand, while he pointed me to a Welsh inscription -on the wall—that text of the beloved disciple, which enjoins him who -loves God to love his brother also. I was yet in the first flush of -grateful excitement, when I was ushered into a small drawing-room, where -a lady advanced and gave me a cordial greeting. The clergyman introduced -me to his wife, and to another lady who was with her, and pointing to a -portrait on the wall, which I immediately recognized, said, “you will -perhaps be glad to know that you are in a poet’s house, that this is the -poet’s likeness, and that my wife is the poet’s sister.” I started and -said—“Can it be that this is Rhyllon?” I saw, in an instant, that I was -so happy as to have found my way, in this manner, to the residence of -the late Mrs. Hemans, and to an acquaintance with that sister, of twin -genius, whose music is as widely known as some of the most popular of -Mrs. Hemans’ delightful lyrics. - -I was made to feel at home, without further preface, and the dinner-hour -passed delightfully, in conversation suited to the day and the services -of the morning, with many recognitions of the power of our holy religion -to obliterate differences of nationality and of education, and to bind -entire strangers in practical brotherhood. The hour came to repair to -the mountain sanctuary, which proved to be several miles distant, and -the whole party of us went together, in a Welsh vehicle of peculiar -shape, but well suited to the road. As we began to ascend into the -hills, a fine view of the vale of Clwyd presented itself. From the great -mountain ranges, on the north and west, to the crowned crag on which -rises the Castle of Denbigh, the eye took a majestic sweep, over one of -the loveliest valleys in Great Britain, and one full of romance and -poetry. At last we came to the Church, a most primitive little -structure, of ancient date, with a mere bell-gable, instead of a tower -and spire, but of a most ecclesiastical pattern in every respect. The -villagers of Tremeirchion were crowding the doorway, and on entering, I -found a large assembly of the Welsh peasantry, neatly attired, and -exceedingly intelligent in their appearance. A Welsh Prayer-book was put -into my hand, which, being a strict translation of the English, I was -enabled to use very profitably, in following the service. The whole was -novel and attractive. I observed some old tombs and monuments, and was -particularly pleased to find the altar, the candlesticks, and other -parts of the Church, garnished with Pentecostal flowers—alike fragrant -and suggestive of festive emotions, in harmony with the blessed day of -the Holy Comforter. But the sweet and simple worship of the villagers -absolutely enraptured me. Their responses were given in earnest, and -their chants were particularly touching. I was especially pleased with -the _Gloria Patri_, which, as perpetually recurring, I soon caught up, -and was able to sing with them, in a language of which, in the morning, -I had not known a word. Even now it lingers in my ear, with all the -charms of that plaintive intonation which seemed to me characteristic of -the Welsh tongue, and which singularly comports with its _prestige_, as -the language of an ancient and romantic people, whose nationality has -been never subdued, notwithstanding the ages of its absorption into that -of a stronger race. - -The sermon was delivered with emotion, apparently extemporaneously, and -was heard with fixed attention throughout. From the text, which I picked -out in a Welsh Testament, I was able to gather some of its drift, and -frequently to detect a scriptural quotation. It was evidently a -Whitsuntide sermon, and the Holy Ghost, his gifts and consolations, were -the blessed theme. A sweet hymn concluded the service; and then, in the -churchyard, this excellent pastor presented me to several of his worthy -parishioners. How was I surprised when one of them asked me, in English, -if I had ever been at Nashotah! A friend and relative of his had -emigrated to Wisconsin, and had there been taken up by the brethren of -that Mission, concerning which he had sent home many interesting -accounts. I can scarcely do justice, with my pen, to the thrill of -feeling inspired by finding that the blessed influences of Nashotah were -felt, by brethren of a diverse tongue, far away over sea and land, in -that lonely nook of the Welsh mountains. - -Deep in the wall of Tremeirchion Church is set the ancient tomb of an -old priest of Llanerch, who was once its pastor. He was the wonder of -his age for wisdom, and especially for the lore with which, like -Solomon, he spake of trees and of plants. It was he who first translated -the _Te Deum_ into Welsh, and such was his sanctity that Satan could -gain no advantage over him, except through his love of science. So then, -as the story goes, Satan promised to reveal to him some mighty secret of -nature, on condition that, after death, he might claim him; and that, -whether buried in the Church, or without, there should be no release -from the bond. The wily clerk accepted the bargain, and became so wise -that all the land confessed his astonishing attainments, as beyond -comparison, in their day; but Satan, for once, was outwitted. The sage -took good care that his body should be buried neither without nor within -the Church; and accordingly it is shown to this day, as part of the wall -itself, and jurists are agreed that Satan must be nonsuited whenever he -ventures to set up a claim against the holy clerk of Llanerch. - -When I ventured to contrast, in conversation with my friend, the -delightful fervour of this service, with the coldness of that which I -had attended in the morning, at the cathedral, he answered, with -feeling:—“We Welshmen love our own language; we talk English in traffic -and in business, but Welsh is the language of our hearts. The Church has -too generally neglected or even outraged this principle. Our Bishops -have been seldom able to address us in the speech of our affections; the -dissenters have earned many captive, merely by employing the tongue of -the people, in their exciting harangues. Where the Welsh are served in -their own tongue by their hereditary Church, they seldom forsake her, -and my little parish is but a small example of what might be universal, -if the Welsh were but considered worthy of being conciliated, by a -tribute to their hereditary feelings, and their unconquerable -nationality.” These appeared to me the counsels of truth and soberness. -The Welsh are truly a people, in spite of their ancient subjugation, and -deserve to be treated as such, all the more for their loyalty to the -British Crown, and for the remarkable partiality which they seem to -entertain towards the Prince of Wales, whose dignity I discovered to be -something more, after all, than a mere fiction of heraldry. - -Our drive home was full of beautiful views, and after descending into -the valley, we pursued our way through Llanerch park, a fine estate, -with which I was much pleased, although the agreeable company into which -I had fallen might have made me satisfied with a scene far less lovely -in itself. I spent a long evening at Rhyllon, restrained from departing -by their kind importunities, and not unwilling to prolong a personal -interview which must necessarily be the last, as well as the first, of -what I could not but recognize as an enduring friendship. Conversation -very naturally turned upon the departed glories of Rhyllon, as the nest -of that tuneful nightingale, who filled up a most brilliant era of -British poesy, by the graceful addition of a genuine female genius. I -had always admired Mrs. Hemans, chiefly because of her truly feminine -muse; because, in other words, her poetry is such as man can never -produce. Unlike others of her sisterhood, she seems to have been -unambitious of masculine effort, content to be her own fair self, and to -give utterance to the delicious sentiments, the gushing affections, and -the rapt enthusiasm which belong to the heart of woman. Delightful -songstress! it was happiness, indeed, to linger for a moment in her -charming abode, and to gather from the conversation of those who had -known and loved her, such hints of her life and character as a delicate -fondness for her memory was not unwilling to drop in conversation, for -the benefit of a sincere admirer. It was all the more valuable, too, as -mingling with many personal recollections of Bishop Heber, whose -connections with St. Asaph made him very frequently a guest at Rhyllon. -It may be imagined that I was loth to say farewell; but at last I tore -myself away with those pains of parting, which are the penalty of a -traveller’s friendships. The clock of the old cathedral tolled eleven as -I passed under its aged tower on my return to the inn. - -In the morning I rose early, and took a walk down the vale, some two or -three miles, to a secluded spot, where ancient piety had erected a -chapel over a fountain, and where it now stands in one of the most -picturesque piles of ruin I ever beheld. This was a favorite haunt of -Mrs. Hemans, and one to which she has devoted some sweet verses. It -goes, among the English, by the title of “St. Mary’s Well,” but the -Welsh call it _Pfynonver Capél_, a very musical and pleasing name, as -they pronounce it. There it stands in a green mead, under the shade of a -tufted hill, enwound with ivy and covered with venerable moss; you enter -the door, and in the sacred floor you behold a pool of lucid water, -encompassed with an ancient kerb of stone, which preserves all the grace -of outline of the base of a massive column in a Gothic cathedral. The -old architect has shown, in this peculiarity of his pool, a truly -inventive genius. I am sure the legends of the sacred spot must have -been many and most romantic. - -A hurried walk back to St. Asaph, concluded my sojourn in the vale of -Clwyd. Verily, “it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps;” my -plans in visiting this retired spot had all been frustrated; but so -happy a disappointment has seldom fallen to my lot. The very slender -enjoyment of puzzling mine host, with surmises as to my mysterious -errand, had been lost in one of the richest pleasures of my life, and I -went my way from a place which I had sought a few hours before as -containing nobody to whom I could make myself known, feeling that it -would be dear to me till death, as the home of beloved friends. - -I continued my journey by railway towards the Menai Straits, catching -pleasant views by sea and land, especially those of Abergele and Gwyrch -Castle. At Conway I stopped for an hour to survey the interesting ruins -of its castle, into which the railroad has made its way, piercing the -ancient walls, after spanning the river with a tubular bridge, and thus -adding the utilitarian wonders of modern architecture to the decaying -splendours of the mediæval builder. The castle is a mass of ruin within, -but retains all its external form and comeliness of tower and -battlement. It was built by Edward I., and was the scene of many of the -gayest revelries of his court, during the period in which he forged the -chains of the Principality. I found the descriptions of my guide-book so -literally correct, with respect to its present condition, that I need -only transcribe them. “The walls on all sides are covered with a green -drapery of luxuriant ivy, and a meadow of grass lies in the open area of -its courts. The warden’s duty is supplied by a whole tribe of crows, -whose solemn parley is heard the instant that a stranger’s foot -approaches, and the towers are all alive with blackbirds, and birds of -all colours, whose notes resound the livelong day, throughout the -deserted domain.” From the summit of one of the towers I had a fine view -of the Conway, and of its widening entrance to the sea. A fisherman’s -boat, left on the sands by the receding tide, added to the spirit of the -scene, which in every respect was worthy of an artist’s study. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - - - _Welsh Scenery and Antiquities._ - - -The railway between Conway and Bangor runs along the sea-shore, close -under the lee of the bold and rocky promontories, that defy the waves, -on this imperial coast. Often indeed we found ourselves plunged into the -black night of the tunnels which become necessary, in many places, from -the precipitous nature of these cliffs, but, in general, I found even -the distasteful confusion of a railway train incompetent to detract much -from the emotions of sublimity inspired by the passage along such a -shore. On one side, the sea was foaming under us, and on the other -Penmaenmawr lifted its gigantic bulk to the clouds. Occasionally, as at -Aber, we passed a beautiful glen, descrying waterfalls and other -picturesque scenery; and by keeping a good look-out, I had a full view -of the cavern called Ogo, which opens to the sea, high up in a -calcareous cliff, with a mouth, singularly like the arched entrance of a -gothic minster. It is said to have afforded a retreat, in ancient times, -to the invading army of England. At last, we descried the baronial -towers of Penrhyn Castle, beautifully situated, on the foundations of an -old Welsh palace, the fame of whose bold chiefs has, for ages, been the -theme of bardic eulogy in Wales; and soon after, we were set down, at -Bangor. It is a city in a vale, enclosed by an amphitheatre of hills, -and opening to the sea, with a fine view of the Menai Straits, and of -the very striking water-front of Beaumaris, on the opposite shore of -Anglesea. - -I found the cathedral, though an important feature in a view of the -town, a very humble specimen of its class; and the service which I -attended, during a pouring rain, was indifferently performed. I -retreated to the finely-situated hotel on the straits, and near the -Menai Bridge, where, in the company of many other disappointed tourists, -I was forced to grumble away an afternoon, from which I had expected no -little pleasure. An angry wind was chafing the surface of the Menai -water, and the little steamers, and other vessels, that went furiously -by, were the only objects to animate the otherwise gloomy spectacle, on -which I gazed listlessly, from the windows of the George Hotel. - -The next morning, though with an unsettled sky, gave us better weather, -and I went forth to view the scenery, and to cross the Menai -Suspension-Bridge, which, though now eclipsed by its neighbour, the -far-famed Tubular, is to me much the more interesting of the two, as -really a beautiful specimen of art, and not unworthy of the surrounding -scenery. Crossing this bridge, and finding on the other shore of -Anglesea a little steamer, with a load of Whitsuntide excursionists, -going down to Caernarvon, I lost no time in getting on board, and soon -had the satisfaction of passing under both the chain-bridge and the -tube, and of realizing, from that position, the immense height at which -they overhang the tides of the Menai. As creations of genius, they are -indeed sublime; and when a coach is seen creeping over the one, in -bigness as it were a fly; or when a railway train thunders through the -other, and yet seems in comparison with it a mere toy, as it emerges and -smokes along its way, one gets an idea of the immensity of each -conception, which invests mechanic art with something like the -attractive splendours of the painting and the poem. In the evening, as -the sun was near its setting, I surveyed the great tube at my leisure, -and walked over its roof, while a train was passing under me. It was -surprising to observe its untrembling strength, and its security at so -great a height, and with a span so vast: but I was even more delighted -with the views it afforded me, of the glorious scenery, mountain and -marine, with which it is encompassed. They are singularly enriched with -the charms of art and nature. The shipping, the suspension-bridge, with -its arches and festoons; the towns of Beaumaris and Bangor; the tall -column of the Marquis of Anglesea, and many pleasant villages and seats, -as you look towards Caernarvon, afford a pleasing addition to the richly -wooded shores, the flowing waters, the indented line of coast, the -swelling hills, and last, but not least, the glorious succession of -peaks that stretch along the eastern background from Snowdon, to the -Great Orme’s Head, which rises like a wall from the sea. - -But I must not forget my excursion to Caernarvon, through these straits, -which resemble so much the picturesque rivers of my own land. Many -objects of interest enlivened the trip; but when, at last, the old walls -of Caernarvon Castle rose before my sight, in all their feudal grandeur -and historic dignity, I felt like one inspired with rapture, though not -the less impressed with a sense of something awful and august. The -character of Edward as a tyrant and a conqueror, seemed to stand before -me in monumental gloom and massive solemnity—and when I thought of the -feeble cries of the first Prince of Wales, as he came to light in this -stronghold of feudal tyranny, and coupled them with those midnight -shrieks, at Berkeley, on the Severn, in which his inglorious life was -extinguished, I realized afresh all those creeping chills of terror, -with which the wildest imagery of romance affects the sensitive -imagination of childhood. There it stood, magnificently irregular in -outline, frowning over the little town beneath, like a coarse bully -domineering over a timid boy. Its towers are really stupendous, and the -aspiring parapets and embattled turrets, that bristle up from their grim -summit, make a strangely confused, but self-consistent figure, against -the mountain back-ground, or the clear blue sky overhead. With such a -fortress in full sight, it was most thrilling to give its history a -mental review. Piled there by a cruel conqueror, to overawe the Welsh -people, six hundred years ago, it seems less terrible with regard to -them, than with reference to the story of his Queen, and his child. Such -a nest for a new-made mother, and her babe! In the depth of winter, the -stern husband sent Queen Eleanor here, to give birth to her child. In -one of its most gloomy recesses the royal infant was born; and thus the -insulting victor was enabled to continue the sovereignty of Wales, in -his own family, while literally fulfilling his pledge, to give the Welsh -a prince—born in their own country, who could speak no English, and -whose character was without fault! Such a sovereign they had promised to -accept, and to obey; and hence the title of the eldest son of British -sovereigns ever since. Thus, what is morally a mean and knavish fraud, -is clothed, in historic narrative, with the glory of a warlike -stratagem, and survives in imperial heraldry as if there were no truth -in the saying of the poet, that the herald’s art can never “blazon evil -deeds, or consecrate a crime.” - -I was not altogether fortunate in my holiday, for the weather was -alternating, continually, between shower and sunshine, and when I was -fairly on the top of a stage-coach, for Llanberis, I found, to my -sorrow, that shower was about to predominate for a time. However, to -Llanberis I went, reserving a close inspection of the castle to my -return. At intervals, I could get some idea of the loveliness of that -charming lake, and of the wild glories of its surrounding scenery; but -ill-luck prevailed, and Snowdon wore his cap of clouds, nearly all the -time, and I was forced to retire at last, somewhat surly with -disappointment. I visited, however, the ruins of Dolbardan Castle, the -central fortress of a chain of similar muniments, by which the ancient -clans of Wales endeavoured to secure these mountain passes against the -invaders. It stands, in picturesque dignity, upon the peninsula, which -divides the waters of Llanberis into twin lakes, and is apparently the -guardian of both. Here some Welsh lads, with a donkey, were sheltering -themselves from the rain, and, by dint of much entreaty, and a very -tempting appliance of money, I gained from them a Welsh song, which -growing somewhat animated as they proceeded, cheered up the sombre -scene, and gave to those antiquated ruins a moment’s restoration of the -echoes of minstrelsy, and of the musical tongue with which they -resounded of yore, in peace and war, when the figures of bards and -heroes were the familiar tenants of the spot. As I returned to -Caernarvon, the rain began to abate, and gradually the clouds withdrew, -to my great satisfaction. The castle again rose before me, reviving the -impressions with which I had first beheld it, but less stern, perhaps, -from the land side, than when beheld from the sea. I was soon beneath -its walls, which I first surveyed, in circuit, with increased -astonishment and pleasure. The materials for this vast structure are -said to have been furnished, in part, by the ruins of Segontium, the -neighbouring station of the ancient Roman army; but the feudal character -now impressed on the old stones is, to me, far more interesting than -their primitive history. The eagle-tower, in which the young Prince is -said to have been born, is itself a fortress of massive solidity, and -presents to the waters a front of bold defiance; while on the other -side, now blocked up and forlorn of aspect, beneath a lofty arch, is the -gate, by which the expectant mother entered the gloomy hold, and which -still goes by her name. The remains of a moat and drawbridge are -visible, and so are the grooves in which the iron-toothed portcullis -once rose and fell. I entered by a gate which looks toward the town, and -over which is sculptured a rude effigy of the royal builder, deeply -scarred by time. Within, the huge walls appear as an empty shell; they -rise, like those of the great Roman amphitheatre, around an area of -desolation. Here and there, indeed, are the remains of state apartments, -and of royal chambers, still marked by delicate architectural tracery -and handsome enrichment; but you tread on hillocks and grassy verdure, -which swell above their buried splendours, and everywhere the ruin -appears absolute and complete. By time-worn and dangerous stairways of -stone, you wind up to the summits of the towers, and your guide -constantly cautions you to beware of slipping, or of setting foot upon -treacherous places. To me, the greatest interest was presented by the -narrow corridors, which run between the inner and outer walls of the -entire circuit, lighted only by the loop-holes, through which the signal -horn was once sounded, and the arrow shot forth, and which open into -embrasures that were filled of yore with armed men. Here is the -projecting battlement, by which they protected the gateway below, its -floor is perforated for the discharge of missiles, and to enable the -defenders of the castle to pour down scalding water, and melted lead, -upon the heads of its assailants. In perambulating these gloomy -recesses, I gained distinct ideas of mediæval life and warfare, from -which my knowledge of history, such as it is, received a vast -augmentation of freshness and reality. - -Dismissing my guide, I sat down on the summit of the eagle-tower and -lost myself in revery. The daws, chattering amid the battlements, alone -interrupted the solemn stillness of the moment. Before me was Snowdon, -now disrobed of the clouds he had worn through the day, and lifting a -bald crown of snow to the skies. The serried outline of his dependant -mountains beautifully varied the scenes toward which they stretched away -on every side. I turned, and there was the broad glare of the descending -sun upon the sea: I was looking towards my own dear home. In the midst -of meditative pleasures, I longed for the companionship of many, between -whom and me there rolled a thousand leagues of ocean; and, for awhile I -forgot, in the melancholy of that reflection, the romantic impressions -which are peculiar to the spot. When I recovered my thoughts, it was -only to feel more forcibly the solemnity of the short life, in which we -stand between so dread a past, and so momentous a future; and before I -descended from that lofty station, I knelt and worshipped Him who, -alone, is Everlasting. - -The weather increased in serenity as the day declined. I heard the -clatter of hoofs, and a coach-horn sounding in the streets, and hastily -took my seat, for a drive to Bangor, relinquishing a projected tour -through Beddgelert and Tremadoc, which I had found impracticable, with -reference to other plans. My drive in return was not less agreeable than -my sail in coming. Everywhere the scene was beautiful, and I was amused -with the chatter of a couple of Welsh peasant women, in short petticoats -and men’s hats, who had mounted the coach-top and sat by my side. - -We had bright moonlight that evening, on the waters of the Menai, and a -band amused us, with music, in the grounds of the hotel. I was agreeably -surprised to hear, in close connection with the national air of England, -the sprightly strain of “Hail Columbia,” which, however inferior as a -musical composition, had a strong power over me, as I heard it then, and -I breathed a warm aspiration to God for a blessing on my native land. - -We were favoured with a glorious morning, and I took stage-coach, soon -after breakfast, for a drive through North Wales. After whirling through -the suburbs of Bangor, and traversing the “Bethesda slate-quarries,” we -entered the terrific pass of Nant Ffrancon. On a reduced scale, the -scenery here is quite Swiss. The rains had swelled the mountain -torrents, and everywhere they were leaping down the steeps, in beautiful -threads of silver, which terminated in fine cascades. The road wound -along the side of a mountain, with a deep descent beneath; and there was -spread out a broad green valley, level as a floor, with a river winding -through, and the figure of an angler stalking along its bank. On the -further side of the vale rose another mountain, abruptly, to the skies. -I was reminded of Nant Ffrancon afterwards, in the Swiss Oberland, after -crossing the Brunig into the Vale of Meyringen, as I was making my way -towards Interlachen. These Welsh Alps are indeed destitute of snowy tops -and descending glaciers. Yet they are full of sublime features; and the -flocks which climb their sides, with fleeces of milky whiteness, give a -pastoral air to the solitude, which subdues the otherwise repulsive -aspect of some of their features. - -It is vain for me to attempt a minute description of the pleasures of -this day’s drive. The scenery was richly varied, and after seeing the -finest scenery of Savoy, and of the Swiss Cantons, I still recall it -with satisfaction, and long to go through it once more. Our way lay -along the skirts of the dreary Lake Ogwen, and then over its desolate -heath; from which our emerging into the enchanting Yale of Capel Curig, -was like turning from a page of Dante’s Inferno to a passage in his -description of Paradise. Here majesty and loveliness indeed combine, in -the sweet diversity of woods and waters, and vales and mountains, to -furnish an ideal of natural beauty, which might satisfy a poet or a -painter. Amid all, rises the glorious summit of old Snowdon, of which I -obtained my finest impressions from this spot. The scenery of the river -Swallow, by which our way continued, is marvellously picturesque, and -its waterfall is admirable, even to the eye of an American. Near -Bettws-y-coed, the panorama assumed a more pastoral character, and gave -us a glimpse into the Vale of Llanrwst; and then, for a long time, every -turn opened new scenes of beauty and delight. At Cerrig-y-Druddion, if -the scenery was distasteful again, not so were the trout from the -mountain streams, on which I made a delicious repast. It was from this -place, to which the poor prince had made good his retreat, that the -primitive Caradoc, with his family, were carried prisoners to Rome, -where he made that famous speech, which is the memorial of his name. -Through various scenes of interest, which I might be more willing to -enumerate, were only their names pronounceable, I reached Corwen, where -was the hold of Glendower, and where, in the ancient Church, I visited -the tomb inscribed _Jorwerth, Vicarius de Corvaen Ora pro eo_. At the -inn sat an old blind Welshman, playing the Welsh harp, and soliciting -charity, which, for Homer’s sake, no one could refuse. Thenceforward the -scenery again increased in interest. - -The Vale of Edeyrnion opened into our view as we continued our journey -along the windings of the beautiful outlet of the Bala Lake, and from -hence to Llangollen, beauty, rather than grandeur, was characteristic of -the scenery. But no every-day sort of beauty is to be imagined when I -speak of this charming region, at which it was a feast to look, even for -a moment. The swells and slopes of the land; the variety of the foliage; -the graceful curves of the river-banks; and the outlines of the -mountainous distance, with the hues which various tillage, and crops, -gave to the meadows and the upland, were continual sources of delight, -in which there was no monotony, and no surfeit. Nothing was wanting, but -only the kindling eye of some enraptured friend to meet my own, and a -voice to say with mine, “This indeed is a paradise!” Such would be the -exclamation of any admirer of natural scenery, at the point where the -ruinous pile of the Abbey of Valle Crucis lifts into view the arch and -tracery of its great East window, amid the harmonious boughs and verdure -of gigantic trees. It is a favourite view with painters, and has become -familiar from the efforts of both pencil and burin. Scarcely less so is -the conical hill, which overhangs Llangollen, and on the summit of which -some remnants of wall that serve to give a very picturesque completeness -to its outline, retain the name of Castell Dinas Bran, with the -reputation of a primeval British work. At Llangollen, a handsome bridge, -which spans the river Dee, blends with the prospect of the town in -pleasing proportion. I climbed a little eminence, and broke through a -sort of copse, into the pleasant grounds of Plas Newydd, the famous -retreat of two eccentric ladies, who, not quite a hundred years ago, -while Llangollen was yet unsung and unknown, became recluses of the -Vale, and lived here in philosophical contempt of the world, and in -ardent communion with nature. They both rest in the parish churchyard, -where one stone records their several dates, and those of an humble -girl, who was long their faithful servant. As they were persons who had -figured in the gay world, their story has become a sort of local -tradition, which is always repeated with respect; and portraits of Miss -Ponsonby and Lady Eleanor Butler, in full Welsh costume, are sold in the -shops, and hung up at the inn. I could not greatly admire their cottage; -but it was, no doubt, quite snug, and pretty enough for two old ladies -that were of a mind to be philosophers. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - - - _The Wye and the Severn—Bristol and Wells._ - - -The next day found me again ascending the Malvern hills, on a coach-top, -the guard playing the merriest notes, upon his horn, as we rapidly -trotted through the town. After another view of the vale of Gloucester, -we turned into Herefordshire, and descended into the valley that spreads -from the western slope of the Malverns. We had fine views of Edensor, -the estate of Lord Somers, and of a monumental column, upon the crown of -a hill. I was glad, too, to see on the roadside, marking some parochial -boundary, a stone cross, such as is frequent on the Continent, and -might, without any evil, be a familiar object in any Christian country. -As we approached Ledbury, we met a band of gipsies in their proverbial -rags and wretchedness, skulking along the road, and exhibiting very few -of those bewitching peculiarities of appearance with which painters and -romancers are fond of investing them. I had never met them before, and -was sorry not to be able to stop and talk with them. An impression of -awe haunted me for some time as I meditated upon their mysterious -barbarism, and tried to recall the glimpse of their weird features, -which I had caught as they passed by. I never saw any of their kind, on -any other occasion afterwards, and think they must be growing scarce, -even in England. - -At Ledbury I was particularly struck with an outside view of the parish -Church, which is but one of a thousand churches in England which of -themselves are enough to reward a traveller for journeying through it. -Sir Walter Scott has justly awarded to them the credit of being the most -beautiful temples in the world, and the most becoming for their holy -purposes. Our next stage brought us to Ross so famous for the memory of -John Kyrle and his beneficent deeds. Its “heaven-directed spire” -surmounts the hill, on which the town is built; and every where, in -Ross, the traces of his good works, as well as many of the works -themselves, survive to consecrate his name. The house in which he dwelt -is adorned with a medallion portrait of “the man of Ross,” sunk in the -wall, and visible to every passenger. He was indeed all that the poet -has made him in descriptive verse; and he was something more, for he was -a zealous Churchman, and a faithful attendant upon the daily service. I -made my way to the Church, and was pleased to find its churchyard cross -entire, and a cross upon its gable. The interior, though very old -fashioned, was adorned with flowers, in honour of Pentecost, and its -monuments are many and curious. Among them was one of those altar-tombs, -on which lie at full length a knight and his sweet dame, the latter with -her delicate hand held in his rough grasp, as if their union were -inseparable by death itself. I was deeply touched by such a memorial of -love, which we must believe to have been sincere, and to which fancy -attributes all that is constant on the part of the lady, and all that is -chivalrous on the part of her lord. But where is the monument of Kyrle? -There is a bust and an inscription, but his monument, like Christopher -Wren’s, is the Church itself; for he built its spire, and something more -beside. There is a story, too, that when the bells were cast, he was -present, and threw into the melting metal a silver tankard, from which -he and the workmen had just drunk to the king’s health. As I was passing -round, the sexton said to me, “you shall now see something that you -never saw before,” and he pointed out a couple of elm trees, growing in -the Church, and reaching to the roof. What is the more remarkable, they -are growing in the pew where the Man of Ross was accustomed to worship, -as if to testify the fidelity of God to the promise—“He shall be like a -tree, planted by the water-side, his leaf also shall not wither.” One -would almost believe that they must have been planted on purpose, but -the truth is rather the reverse. They are in fact the fruit of Kyrle’s -own planting; for he set a row of elms in the churchyard, which were cut -down by a churlish vicar, but from which these shoots have sprung up in -the house of God, as it were in silent remonstrance. It is hard not to -see something providential in the coincidence, by which, what would be a -curiosity anywhere, is thus connected with the blessed example of one of -the most benevolent and virtuous of mankind. The trees screen one of the -windows, and appear to thrive in the climate of the sanctuary, their -leaves putting forth earlier, and falling later than those of the trees -in the churchyard. - -A fair was going on in the town, and the streets were filled with the -peasantry. Everywhere pedlars were setting forth the merits of their -wares, and among them was a fellow bawling—“Here’s the last dying -speech and confession, &c.”—as he exhibited the doleful print of a -gallows and its dangling victim. Such incidents are not rarely met in -the narratives of a certain class of novelists, and I have certainly -read, somewhere, of just such a market-day as I encountered at Ross. I -walked slowly down the hill into the valley of the Wye, turning -constantly to observe the fine situation of the town, till the coach -overtook me. The country here is rich but simply pretty, and as yet it -revealed none of the glories for which the Wye is celebrated. Goodrich -Court, a modern mansion, is a fine object, however, and the remains of -Goodrich Castle are an imposing feature in the scene; and all the more -so for its association with the cavaliers, from whom it was finally -taken by Cromwell, and reduced to ruins. As you enter Monmouthshire, a -glorious view begins to open, and from about this point the scenery of -the river increases in wildness and grandeur. I was, at first, at a loss -to know why Wordsworth should have called the Wye sylvan, for such was -far from being its character, in Herefordshire; but now the entire -appropriateness of the epithet was disclosed, and yet I am well aware -that I lost many of the finest features of the stream by not descending -it in a boat. With Monmouth itself, I was somewhat disappointed, its -Church having suffered many things of many churchwardens, and the -remains of the priory, where Henry the Fifth was born, having become -incorporated with the modern walls of a boarding-school. I left Monmouth -with gratitude to Fluellyn for his idea of its wondrous resemblance to -Macedon, which I should not have imagined, had he not helped the world -to it. The glories of the scenery round St. Briavel’s and near the tiny -little Church at Llandogo, should have had the further benefit of his -minute and luminous descriptive powers, as I can liken it to nothing -else in the world but itself, for its combination of simply rural -features, with those which are highly picturesque. An American is struck -with the charm imparted to such scenery, by a pretty church or a neat -and secluded hamlet, quite as much as he is impressed by the scenery -itself; and I was often led to think what the valley of the Mohawk might -be, had it the advantage of that still retirement, and of those Arcadian -groves, which impart a peculiar effect to the sterner beauties of the -Wye. At Tintern Parva we were shown the ancestral habitation of -Fielding, and passed a new church which was well worthy of note. But the -neighbourhood of Tintern Abbey eclipsed every other thought, and I -strained my sight for the earliest possible glimpse of the delightful -vision. A storm which had been threatening, broke upon us, -unfortunately, at the critical point, and I first beheld that -magnificent ruin in circumstances which increased its desolation. In -spite of the rain, however, I embraced an opportunity of entering its -walls and surveying it for a few moments, amid the wild confusion of the -elements. The rain dashing through its rich but broken tracery, and the -wind tossing the gorgeous drapery of its mantling ivy, with the -melancholy sighs it gave amid the columns, and along the aisles, -deepened the solemn impression of the spot, and gave a heightened -interest to the thoughts of its former sacred uses, when it resounded -with the chant of priests and the swells of music from the organ. As I -purposed a more leisurely visit in fairer weather, I was willing to have -seen it thus amid storm and tempest. I resumed my journey to Chepstow; -and as the storm soon abated, and was succeeded by sunshine, I had many -fine views of the windings of the river, some of which are very bold, -sweeping, amid precipitous banks, crowned with the richest foliage and -verdure. Chepstow itself has many beauties, as seen from the Wye, and -after slightly surveying the town and castle, I crossed the iron bridge, -and drove to Tidenham, where a kind welcome awaited me at the vicarage, -from one with whom I had corresponded long before I left America. I was -sorry, however, to find myself a source of disappointment to the -children of my kind entertainers, who had been unable to divest -themselves, notwithstanding the benevolent dissuasions of their parents, -of the romantic idea that the American visitor would present himself in -aboriginal costume, and contribute to their amusement by exhibiting his -red visage, and lending them his bow and arrows. Their father is now a -Missionary Bishop, in Africa. - -This vicarage is of modern erection, but in very good ecclesiastical -style, and has a pretty garden, in which I saw my amiable friend the -vicar taking the air, when I rose in the morning. I was glad that so -pleasant an abode had fallen to the lot of so good a man. After -breakfast, while he visited his poor and sick, I went on a little pony, -with a servant at my side, to Cockshoot Hill, which looks down upon the -Wye nearly opposite the Windcliff. Tidenham itself stands on a narrow -peninsula, with the Wye on one side, and the broad Severn on the other, -and just below Cockshoot Hill this peninsula forces the river Wye to -make an extraordinary bend beneath its precipitous banks, on which -stands the pretty hamlet of Llancaut. The view, at this point, is -therefore peculiarly fine, and affords, in one spot called -“Double-view,” the unusual spectacle of both rivers—the Wye, with its -sylvan charms on one hand, and the expanse of the Severn, with its ships -and steamers, on the other. I was best pleased with the Wye, the -Windcliff, the projecting rocks called the Twelve Apostles, and the -entire scene on that side, as far as the eye could stretch, above and -below. The farms and fruit-trees of the peninsula were also pleasing in -their way, and the more so, because it was now the season of blossoms, -and every breeze was fragrant. My return was enlivened by views of the -Severn, which were often much heightened in effect by the turns of the -road, and the openings amid thick trees, through which I descried them; -and I was gratified to be joined by a labouring man, who insisted on -walking with us, and pointing out favourite prospects, apparently not so -much in hopes of a fee, as to testify his regard for a guest of the -vicar, of whom he spoke in unbounded terms of respect, as the blessing -of the country round. I found the Church opened, and service going on: -and when it was over, was informed by the vicar himself of the various -merits of the sacred place as an architectural specimen. The font was an -ancient Norman one, of lead, and is regarded as curious. So are the -windows, which exhibit a semi-flamboyant tracery, by no means common. A -gradual restoration is going on, at the expense of the vicar and his -personal friends; but I was amused by the white-washed tower, which -remains thus disfigured, while the rest of the Church has been reduced -to its natural color. It seems that this white tower has long been a -landmark of the Severn, and serves a useful purpose, in the piloting of -vessels. With an interference which would strike us Americans as very -arbitrary, the Government, therefore, forbade that the tower of Tidenham -Church should be made to look any less like a whited sepulchre; and so -it stands, as a pillar of salt, to this day. - -The rest of the day was devoted to an excursion to Tintern, to which the -ladies contributed their agreeable society. The party proved a very -cheerful one, and we encountered scarcely any fatigue of which our -fairer associates did not bear their full share. In surveying the -remains of Chepstow castle, only, were we without their company. I found -it a noble ruin, even after my visit to Caernarvon. It was reduced to -ruin by Cromwell, after a desperate fight, but one of its towers was -long afterwards—for twenty years—the prison of Henry Marten, the -regicide. It must once have been a splendid hold of feudalism, and its -halls and windows still retain many traces of the Saxon and Norman -richness of its original beauty. - -We climbed the Windcliff, and thence surveyed the combined glories of -land, and sea, and of inland stream, which are its peculiar charm. Where -else can be seen such a prospect: such inland river scenery, blended -with the view of a broad arm of ocean, side by side, and apparently not -united? It would be vain for me to attempt description, but I found it -all I could ask; and on that breezy height recalled to mind those -incomparable lines of Wordsworth, composed upon the spot or near it, in -which he exhorts the lover of Nature to store up such scenes in memory, -and thus make “the mind a mansion for all lovely forms.” There are caves -below, through which one of my female friends led me like a Sybil; and -then I went under her kind escort through a wild American-like wood, to -rejoin our carriage. Two miles more of delightful scenery, and I stood -again in Tintern Abbey, and wandered through its holy aisles, and -climbed to its venerable summit. Here, over the lofty arches of the -transept, I walked, as in a path through a wood, the shrubbery growing -wildly on both sides, as on the brow of a natural cliff. White roses -flourish there in abundance; and it is only at intervals that you can -get a glimpse of the Abbey-floor beneath. Around you is a beautiful -prospect of the river, and of an amphitheatre of hills; and when you -stand in the aisles below, and view these same hills through the broken -windows, you feel that they should never have been glazed, except with -transparent glass. On the whole, when the beauty of its situation is -fully taken into consideration, in addition to the original graces of -its architecture,—its graceful pillars, its aerial arches, its gorgeous -windows,—and when we observe the fond effect with which nature has -clothed the pile in verdure, as if resuming her power with tenderness, -and striving to repair the decays of art, with her own triumphant -creations; when all these, and other attractions which cannot be -enumerated in description, are united in the estimate, I cannot but give -to Tintern Abbey the credit of being the fairest sight, of its kind, -which ever filled my vision. I have since seen many similar objects, -combining architectural beauties with those of nature, but were I -allowed to choose one more glimpse of such a picture, among all, I think -I should say to the enchanter—“let me have another look at Tintern.” - -Crossing the broad mouth of the Severn, in a little steamer, we entered -the Avon, of a fine afternoon, just as a fleet of similar steamers, -taking the tide at flood, were hurrying out to sea. It was a most -animating sight, as one after another chased by—this for London, that -for Dublin, another for Glasgow, and so on; all flaunting the red cross -of St. George, and displaying a full company on deck. I was agreeably -surprised by the beauty of this river, which is varied by woods and -cliffs, and many striking objects, among which a little ruinous chapel, -upon a verdant peninsula, particularly struck me, and the more so, as -having been formerly used by fishermen, before going upon their voyages -in the channel, as a place of prayer for protection and success. But -this river has an historical claim upon the affectionate regard of -America, as having sent forth two expeditions to our shores, of the -greatest consequence to our whole continent. Upon these waters crept -forth to sea, in 1497, the little “Matthew,” on whose deck stood -Sebastian Cabot, “uncovering his fine Venetian head” to take a last -farewell of his native city, as he boldly stood out to the ocean in -search of the New World. Upon that expedition depended the discovery of -the mainland of America, and the occupation of the northern half by the -Anglo-Saxon race. To this glorious reminiscence has been added the fine -contrast presented by the “Great Western,” as she launched forth, in -this same river, only a few years ago, in her majestic strength, to -inaugurate a new era in the art of navigation, and to unite the Old -World and the New by bonds of intercommunication, which imagination -itself had never ventured to portray in their present stage of wonderful -development. “Upon no waters,” says a popular writer, “save those of the -winding Avon, have two such splendid adventures as these been -enterprized.” - -Passing under the heights of Clifton, and landing in Cumberland basin, I -climbed the steep, took my lodgings at Clifton, and then went on foot -into Bristol, over Brandon-hill, enjoying the magnificent panorama which -unfolds on every side, and comprehends the finest features of town and -country, of water and of land. My first thought was the famous Church of -St. Mary Redcliffe, and thither I took my way. The poetry of Chatterton -was the delight of my boyhood, and this Church I had long desired to -see. I found it undergoing restoration, but not the less open to -inspection. It is indeed a masterpiece of architecture; its clustered -pillars, and the fan-like spread of its vaulting, with its fourfold -aisles, and rich quatrefoil windows, affording the keenest satisfaction -to the artist, and affecting every man of taste with overwhelming -emotions of religion, which may well be made salutary to the soul. Here -are some pictures by Hogarth, of a character superior to his general -efforts; one of which, representing “the Ascension of our Lord,” shows -him to have possessed fine sensibilities, and a delicate appreciation of -the more poetical provinces of his art. The monument of “Master -Canynge,” the Mayor, who figures so richly in the “Bristowe tragedy,” -attracted my profound attention, as did also several others less -mentionable, though very interesting. Of Chatterton himself, no monument -is to be seen, save the old muniment-room, and the chests, from which he -fished his bold idea. The monument, which was erected a few years since -to his memory, has for some reason been removed, and now lies -dishonoured in the crypt. It is impossible to think of that marvellous -boy without pity, in spite of his moral delinquencies; and I can -scarcely read the ballad of Charles Bawdin without tears, excited as -much by the fate of its author, as of its hero. His moral perceptions -must have been of a fine cast, or he never could have conceived that -poem; and who would not choose to believe that had he encountered mercy -and loving-kindness from those who ought to have befriended him, his -splendid genius might have been made a rich blessing to himself and to -the world? - -As the solemn twilight was coming on, I visited the cathedral. I had not -promised myself much from such a visit, for ’tis a mutilated pile, of -which the entire nave is lacking. Yet, whether it was the effect of the -dim and dying daylight, or whether the architecture and the sepulchral -charms of the holy place overpowered me, I left it with the profoundest -impressions of awe and tender emotion. The old Norman Chapter-house is -an architectural gem, with its intersecting arcades, its rich diapering, -and nail-head ornaments, its twisted mouldings, and spiral columns, and -the zig-zag groinings of its roof. In the vestry I was shown a curious -Saxon carving of Christ saving a soul. My attention was also directed, -by the sub-sacrist who attended me, to the ruins of the Bishop’s palace, -which fell under the violence of the mob, in 1831, when good Bishop Gray -so beautifully distinguished himself and his Order, by exhibiting an -apostolic harmony of meekness and resolution. But it was in walking the -aisles of the cathedral itself, under the deepening shadows of the -evening, that I experienced the full effects which such a place should -inspire. From the old and decaying monuments of knights and their dames, -I passed with elevated feeling to the modern achievements of Bacon and -of Chantry. A kneeling female figure, reflecting the faint light from -its pale features and white drapery, and standing out of the darkness, -like a pure soul emerging from the valley of the shadow of death, gave -me a sensation of unspeakable reverence. Hard by, a chequered day-beam -played on the fine outline of a bust of Robert Southey, and this -apparition also affected me; but when I came to the little tablet which -marks the grave of Mrs. Mason, and spelt out, word by word, the -incomparable tribute of conjugal love which it bears, I was overwhelmed; -and as I read (I am not ashamed to own it) my tears dropped upon the -marble floor. There was barely daylight enough for the effort, but I had -known the poem from my earliest childhood, and possibly to this fact I -must attribute its overpowering effect upon my feelings. It is to be -condemned perhaps as an epitaph; but who can think of criticism when -borne along on such a tide of heavenly affection and triumphant faith? I -trembled to think I was standing upon the relics of so much loveliness -and purity. - - “Take, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear!” - -She must have been an angel, to have inspired so much feeling as agony -has compressed into that one line! and then, what an image of more than -mortal beauty rises before us as we read— - - “Speak, dead Maria! breathe a strain divine, - Even from the grave thou shalt have power to charm.” - -And did ever love paint such a portrait, in a few touches of passionate -apostrophe, as in those in which the heart of her husband speaks on? - - “Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee; - Bid them in duty’s sphere as meekly move! - And, _if as fair, from vanity as free_; - As firm in friendship, and _as fond in love_!” - -Never was the glory of true female character so enshrined in language -before; but this is not all! The ideal of the Christian woman is brought -out in its completeness in what follows:— - - “Tell them—though ’tis an awful thing to die, - ——’Twas _even to thee_!” - -Here is the tender form, and timid step, with all the heroism of the -female saint, descending into the dark valley: and at the same time here -is the transcendent tribute— - - ’Twas _even to thee_! - -And now comes triumphant faith:— - - ——“Yet that dread path once trod, - Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, - And bids the pure in heart behold their God.” - -I am probably failing in my desire to carry my reader along with me in -my own conception of the exceeding merit of these verses, as embodying -some of the sublimest, and some of the tenderest affections of the -regenerate heart, with the smallest possible sacrifice of that eloquence -which is generally mute, in proportion to its expressiveness: but I -cannot deny myself the pleasure of recording the fact, that their power -over my own feelings, as I read them on the spot, and in the -circumstances which I have hinted, was such as beggars description. - -A moonlight ramble on the heights of Clifton, and another in the early -morning, next day, concluded my rapid visit to this region; and I took -the top of the coach soon after to the city of Wells. This little -journey over the Mendip hills, which gave me frequent opportunities for -walking, was enlivened by the conversation of a sharp-featured little -dissenting minister, who volunteered his opinions upon all subjects, and -who seemed peculiarly anxious to give me his own opinions of the clergy -of the Church. “There are,” said he, with an oracular look, and the keen -expression of a desire to know how the fact might strike me, “there are -18,000 Church clergymen in England: of these, there may possibly be -4,000 who are in different degrees evangelical; 4,000 are vicious and -idle; and 10,000, including all the young clergy, are _Puseyites_, who -neither know how to teach the Gospel, nor what the Gospel is!” He -thought there was no prospect of any disruption between Church and -State; and, at last, whispered in my ear, that he had serious thoughts -of emigrating to America. I was amazed at this little man’s utterly -unconscious lack of Christian charity. Of the 10,000 clergy whom he thus -denounced in the gross, as evil-minded men, I had myself been for weeks -closely associated with many, in whom I had seen exemplified every -Christian grace, and from whom I had gathered lessons of practical -piety, for which I had reason to bless God. For patience in tribulation, -and for pastoral fidelity; for lives devoted to the good of men, and -fervent with zeal for the glory of God, I had never seen their equals; -and now, to hear them stigmatized in a manner so cool and professional, -by one who soon betrayed his personal animosity by adding—“and us, -dissenting preachers, they treat as a race of upstart tinkers”—made me -lament for poor human nature and its deceitful workings even in good -men’s hearts! I consoled my friend by hinting that, in America, the -Presbyterian and Congregational pastors had long professed a somewhat -similar contempt for the clergy of the Church, having for nearly two -centuries been the religious chieftains of our country; but I ventured -to intimate that we did not on that account feel the less respect for -ourselves, or think it right to deny them the credit of many estimable -qualities, and the right of being judged by Him who alone searcheth the -heart. I believe it was after this, that the worthy man proposed adding -himself to our population; a scheme in which I could not discourage him, -convinced, as I was, that a taste of our religious condition might -perhaps change his views as to the comparative evils of the English -Church, and those of the Saturnalia of unbelief which are fast -developing under the influences of our illimitable sectarianism. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - - - _Glastonbury—Wells—The Jubilee._ - - -I found in the ruins of the abbey at Glastonbury a full reward for my -efforts to pay them a visit. The architecture of these ruins is of a -character widely different from that of Tintern; and the surrounding -scenery, though marked by one bold eminence called the Tor, is that of a -fat agricultural region, wholly unlike the romantic valley of the Wye. -Yet the old wattled church of the early Britons which once stood here; -the tradition that Joseph of Arimathea proclaimed the gospel on this -spot; the legendary interest that attaches to the memory of St. Dunstan, -and the superb remains of what was once the richest monastery in the -kingdom, invest the now silent precincts of the Abbey with peculiar -charms. The chapel called St. Joseph’s is still an exquisite specimen of -art, and in its crypt is a spring reputed to derive extraordinary -virtues from some association with his visit. A huge stone coffin, lying -empty and dishonoured in the aisle of the Abbey Church, was shown to me -as having once contained the corpse of King Arthur. Here again was the -figure of an old abbot; and as I strode over the clovered floor of the -holy place, amid broken corbels and shattered columns, I found an artist -seated among them, at his task, sketching the beautiful remnant of an -old turret, which rises amid the surrounding wreck, almost the only -uninjured memorial of the former glory of the pile. At a distance, which -gives one an idea of the great extent of the old establishment, stands -the kitchen of the monastery still entire. It is an octagon, of vast -circumference, and contains several curious relics of the Abbey. I next -visited St. Benedict’s Church, which disputes with several others the -claim of being the oldest in the kingdom; and so, taking a post-chaise, -drove back to Wells, after a due reverence to the celebrated thorn which -is said to be the lineal successor of St. Joseph’s walking-stick, and -which blooms every year, at Christmas as well as in the early summer. Of -its blossoming at Christmas, or Epiphany, I suppose there can be no -doubt. I was assured, on the spot, that such was the case. King Charles -used to make merry with the papists by calling their attention to the -fact that it refused to observe the Gregorian Calendar; and when, in -1752, New Style was introduced into England, some two thousand of the -neighbouring peasantry assembled to watch this thorn on Christmas-eve, -who, when they found it stubbornly postponing its homage, but punctually -putting forth blossoms at Old Christmas, as usual, refused to recognize -the novelty, and kept their holidays accordingly. It must be supposed, -therefore, that Twelfth day is the real festival which it honours with -its strange efflorescence. - -The cathedral of Wells struck me as surpassing all that I had yet seen, -in its way. The exterior view is fine, and the front is enriched with -the most lavish display of sculpture, kings, queens, and saints, each in -an embellished niche, and all together conveying a most gorgeous -impression to the beholder. But the interior was far more impressive. -Its nave was fitted with a pulpit and benches, and had the appearance of -being used and frequented. But the choir and Lady-chapel were in process -of restoration, on a magnificent scale, and appeared, indeed, quite new. -Here was a modern work, not inferior to the old: and when I observed the -rich effect of the creamy Caen stone, contrasted with the dark and -polished pillars of Purbeck marble, and marked the effective -introduction of colours and gilding, amid the delicate foliations and -tracery of stalls and tombs, then, first, I understood what must have -been the magnificence of these cathedrals, when new and entire! It was -pleasing to see such proof that the Church is still instinct with all -the spirit of mediæval taste, under the influences of restored purity of -religion; and that all the cunning of Bezaleel can be still employed by -our reformed ritual, though the craft of Demetrius, in making shrines -for idolatrous services, is no longer required. - -I will not weary my reader with the numerous details of this glorious -pile, nor with those of the Bishop’s palace, its moat and drawbridge; -nor yet with memories of the blessed Bishop Ken, which still linger in -fragrance about these holy places: but I must observe, that the present -Bishop has done a good work in restoring to his cathedral the important -feature of a theological school. In his palace is their chapel, a most -appropriate one; and as I went through the cathedral, it was pleasant to -see several students in their gowns, lingering here and there in the -aisles, and vanishing and re-appearing amid the columns. - -A romantic drive from Wells, full of interesting views, brought me to -Bath. Here, too, was much to see; but its Abbey is a poor object after -Wells, and the town of Beau Nash need not long detain an ecclesiastic. I -left, in the night, for Berkshire; and next day, which was Sunday, was -present at an Ordination, held at Bradfield Church, by the Bishop of -Oxford. The Church, and neighbouring College, at which I was a guest, -are well worthy of description; but I have only space to add, that the -ceremonial of Ordination differed from our own only in the minute -particulars of the oath of supremacy, and in the Bishop’s sitting in his -chair while administering the imposition of hands. Thirteen priests, and -a larger number of deacons, were admitted to Orders. The preacher was -the estimable Sir George Prevost; and at Evening Prayer, I had the great -satisfaction of addressing the newly ordained clergy, by appointment of -the Bishop, and afterwards of dining with him, and them, at the College, -where I am happy to testify that all things were done unto edifying, -until the close of the day. I was charmed with the Bishop’s manner in -private intercourse with his younger clergy; and not less gratified to -learn that the Ordination had been preceded by his personal conference -with each individual, in which the awful responsibilities of the -ministry had been freely enforced, and fully recognized. Those whom I -had seen ordained, had come to that solemnity, therefore, with the -fullest sense of its unspeakable consequences to their souls; and, so -far as could be ascertained, with holy resolutions to be faithful unto -death. - -The solemnities of the Jubilee of the Venerable S. P. G., now called me -back to London, and to a renewal of its social pleasures. On the morning -of the 16th of June, I attended, at Westminster Abbey, with a large -number of the clergy, the opening services. It was a memorable occasion; -the choir of the Abbey being filled with a dense crowd of worshippers, -among whom, to judge by their looks and complexions, were men “out of -every nation under heaven.” The Bishop of London was the preacher, and -gave us an appropriate sermon, characterized by the finish for which his -performances are noted, and not deficient in feeling or fervour. It -contained gratifying allusions to the American Church, one of whose -prelates, Bishop Otey, was present, in the sanctuary, and assisting in -the services. A large number of communicants knelt at the altar; and -while several of my English friends made an effort to receive at the -hands of the Bishop of Tennessee, in gratifying their feelings of -Catholic intercommunion, I found an equal satisfaction in receiving the -Holy Sacrament from the Archbishop of Canterbury. During the whole -solemnity, which filled up several hours, my mind was powerfully -impressed with the historical spirit of the place; and while I listened -to the sermon, glancing occasionally upward to the vaulted roof, or -allowing my eye to wander away among the columns of the nave or choir, -it was impossible to divest myself of associations the most sublime, -that seemed to swarm around me, like “a cloud of witnesses,” blending -the interminable past with the momentary present. Here we were, in our -turn, upon the stage, the great actors of past centuries lying all -around us! Through yonder gate, beneath the great rose-window, pomp and -procession have entered this holy place, age after age; and here, one -after another, each as real in its time as that which occupies us now, -have the great solemnities of the nation been celebrated. These arches -and aisles looked just as they look this minute on the day when Laud -ushered in King Charles to receive his crown, and when, just here, he -was presented, to the Lords and Commons assisting at that pregnant -moment, as their anointed Sovereign. The thought of all that has since -passed on the same spot, seemed to compress into the mere drama of an -hour, the mighty history of which such was the opening scene. Then the -thought of the entire ignorance of futurity, by which such a pageant was -made real in its time! Imagination places us back among the men of a -by-gone age; but we cannot strip our individuality of its historic -knowledge, and we behold their doings with the eyes of a seer. I seemed -to be listening to the shout of “Long live King Charles”—and at the -same moment foreseeing the scaffold at Whitehall. I seemed to wonder -that others could be ignorant of what was coming: and to feel compelled -to forewarn the King of the dreadful future. Just so the jubilant -coronation of Charles the Second, and the melancholy inauguration of his -successor, flitted before me, with the events of years condensed into a -moment: and then again I found myself going back to the days of -Elizabeth and her hateful sire; and so mounting to the Plantagenets and -Normans. It is said that we cannot think of two things at once: but -certainly, while I was absorbed in the sermon, I was yet occupied with -such thoughts as these, and, in fact, was giving the preacher the full -benefit of all this as a background, while I looked on him as the -prominent figure of the picture. The psalms for the day had been -exceedingly suggestive and appropriate; they were the _Deus venerunt_, -the _Qui regis Israel_, and the _Exultate Deo_; and all the while I was -mentally contrasting 1851 with 1651, and saying, “What hath God -wrought!” That day, two hundred years ago, the Puritans were in the -Abbey, making havoc of its holy things, and exulting over the -annihilation of the Church of England. They supposed her exterminated, -“root and branch:” it was a felony to read one of her ancient Collects -in the poorest cottage of the land. And now! I was surrounded by -representatives of her communion, who had come up to keep her one -hundred and fiftieth missionary festival from the uttermost parts of the -earth. Beside the Primate of all England, stood before me the Bishops of -Argyle, of Jamaica, and of Tennessee. Around me were kneeling Africans, -Asiatics, and Americans, with the islanders of the South Seas, all -partakers of her holy fellowship: and passing from such a past to such a -present—what a leap my spirit took into the future. Another -jubilee—and another! Who shall set a limit to the ingathering of -nations; to the latter-day triumphs of the Gospel! - - “Visions of Glory, spare my aching sight; - Ye unborn ages crowd not on my soul.” - -When the services were over, it took some time to emancipate myself from -the spell of the place, and I wandered to and fro in the Abbey. A dear -friend, a fellow of Oriel College, caught me by the hand, and pointed to -the slab beneath my feet. It covered Samuel Johnson. “Surely old -Samuel’s bones must have been stirred to-day by the Church’s Jubilee,” -said I, “but don’t think you have shown me his grave for the first time; -I already know all the choice spots in this floor, and have knelt on -that very slab, and given God thanks for his servant Samuel.” - -I dined that day with a party of zealous Churchmen, and supporters of -the S. P. G.; and, in the evening, went to an ecclesiastical -conversazione at Willis’ Rooms. We drove, in a private carriage, through -Hyde Park and St. James’s, and were set down at “Almack’s” as superbly -as if we had come on as gay an errand as is the more usual one of its -visitors. But those brilliant rooms were now thronged with a graver -company, the object of the festivity being to do honour to foreign -ecclesiastics and pastors, who might be in London on occasion of the -Jubilee and the Crystal Palace. I was presented to the Primate, who -conversed with a simplicity of manner the most impressive, and invited -me to Lambeth with a sort of cordiality, the very reverse of that -stateliness and etiquette which it was not unnatural to expect in the -address of one so exalted in station. I was much pleased with his -venerable appearance, and accepted the kind appointment of an hour, -which he named, for my visit to the Archiepiscopal palace, with peculiar -pleasure. His Grace was surrounded by his brother Bishops, among whom I -saw, for the first time, the Archbishop of Dublin; a prelate of -acknowledged talent, but whose gifts would have better fitted the -Academy than the throne of a Primate. An Oriental Archimandrite -completed the group in this quarter; and other parts of the rooms -swarmed with solemn looking men, talking German and French with their -English entertainers, or vainly essaying civilities in Low Dutch and -Danish. One of these personages, who looked as if he might have figured, -with credit to himself, at the Synod of Dort, attacked me in the dialect -of the Flemings, to my utter consternation. I could only stammer out a -little gibberish, as a reply, and precipitately sounded a retreat, in -utter distrust of my ability to sustain a further conversation with my -unknown colloquist to mutual satisfaction. I soon afterward made the -acquaintance of the Chevalier Bunsen, with whom, as one of the -curiosities of the age, I was not sorry to have this opportunity of -exchanging a few words. The Chevalier is at home on every subject, and I -found him communicative on the favourite topic which I ventured to -start, by referring to a common friend, whom he had known very well in -Rome. One after another I encountered, during the evening, many eminent -and agreeable personages, among whom were officers of the army, -dignitaries of the Church, several Bishops, and the Earl of Harrowby. -The company was altogether a brilliant one, in spite of the polemical -figures who constituted so important a part of it; and the stars and -decorations of the nobility, and of foreign officials, were quite -conspicuous, among the white neckerchiefs and black broadcloth of the -ecclesiastics and pastors. - -I breakfasted, next morning, with the Rector of St. Martin’s in the -Fields, and then accompanied him, on a visiting tour, about his parish. -First, I went to the parish-school, which had lately been rebuilt, and -was deemed a model. Prince Albert, who interests himself in such things, -was to visit it that very day, and I was kindly asked by the Rector to -be of the company, but was otherwise engaged. One of the peculiarities -of this building was its ingenious contrivance of a play-ground—if that -may be so called, which was some fifty or sixty feet above the earth. -Land being costly in the parish of St. Martin’s, the building was -planned with a double roof, the lower one being flat, and surrounded -with a high fence, affording a safe and ample space for the recreation -of the children; while the roof above them served as an awning against -the sun, or as a shelter from the rain. A fine view, and as pure an -atmosphere as London can afford, were additional advantages of the -arrangement. Next, we visited the parochial baths and wash-houses, in -which the poor have the best opportunity for washing and drying clothes, -and also of keeping their persons in a neat and wholesome condition, at -the cost of a few pennies. The benevolence and utility of the -establishment must be obvious. Next the Rector took me to see Coleman, -one of his parishioners, who was then in his 102d year, and a fine and -healthy-looking man at that. What is better, he is unfeignedly pious, -and joined devoutly in the prayers which were offered by his pastor, -responding with fervour, and saying, in reply to one of his -questions—“I know that my Redeemer liveth.” This aged Christian owes -his serene and consoling faith, under God, to his early training in the -charity school, established in this parish by Archbishop Tennison. He -was a pupil in that school when George the Second died, and remembers -the tolling of the great bell of St. Paul’s, to announce the event. He -also remembers the Coronation of George the Third, and the procession, -which he saw as it went to the Abbey, on that occasion. Think of his -living to see, as he did, the procession of Victoria to the Crystal -Palace, with the same pair of eyes! It was gratifying to hear his -testimony to the vast improvement in manners which has been going on in -London since he was a boy. He remembers the nights and days which -Hogarth has so frightfully depicted; and he says, too truly, that to be -a gentleman, was to be a rake, almost universally, when he was a boy. -“It was as much as one’s life was worth,” he says, “to walk the streets, -at night, in those days.” The same day, I heard Mr. Sydney Herbert -remark, in his speech at St. Martin’s Hall, that this age is reputed -better than its antecessors, chiefly because, while it cares not what a -man may be at heart, it compels him to be decent. - -This meeting at St. Martin’s Hall, by the way, must not be forgotten. It -was part of the Jubilee. Prince Albert presided, and did so, I must -allow, in a very princely style, so far as his personal bearing was -concerned. As he entered, which he did with great dignity, the whole -assembly rose, and sang _God Save the Queen_. This struck me as -exceedingly handsome and appropriate: but I was not so well pleased with -the fulsome adulation with which some of the speakers, afterwards, -seemed to think it necessary to bedaub him. He was himself guilty of a -flagrant breach of propriety, as it struck me, in alluding to William of -Orange, who happened to be on the throne when the Charter of the S. P. -G. was signed and sealed, as “the greatest sovereign who ever reigned in -Great Britain.” To this ill-judged compliment to one of the foreign -adventurers who have succeeded in planting themselves in British -palaces, a few gaping mouths in the auditory ejaculated the response, -“hear, hear”—for which the sentence was evidently a studied catch: but -I am glad to say that the greater part of the assembly was not such as -to be so entrapped. It was a failure, absolutely, though the _Times_ -reported “great applause,” as a matter of course. When a prince -condescends to set up for a critic upon royalty, he deserves no better -success: and the ill taste of this particular attempt, on such an -occasion, seemed to me offensive in the extreme. It is plain that the -prince has learned his historical alphabet from Macaulay, and has -studied no further: but I considered this straw as indicative of a -coming wind, with which the founder of the House of Coburg should not -have threatened the Church so soon. He may yet reap the whirlwind -himself, or bequeath it to his children: for it is evident, to me, that -amiable and estimable as he is, in many respects, and beloved as he is -by a loyal people as the consort of their Queen, he is an alien to true -British feeling, and an enemy to the Anglican Church. He would Germanize -the nation if possible; above all, he longs to Bunsenize the national -religion. - -On the whole, I found myself too much of an American Churchman to relish -this meeting. It was humiliating to see the venerable Archbishop paying -such deference to one who, though so nearly allied to the throne, is in -no wise entitled to especial homage from so august a personage as the -Primate of all England: and I considered it insufferable that such -official personages as Lord John Russell, and Earl Grey, should be chief -speakers, merely because of their position, although flagrant enemies of -the Church’s holiest principles. A more turgid piece of bombast than the -former delivered, I have never chanced to hear, and his whole appearance -was, to me, ludicrously revolting. It must not be supposed, however, -that the meeting went off without effect. It was nobly redeemed by -admirable speeches from Sydney Herbert, the Duke of Newcastle, Sir -Robert Inglis, and the Earl of Harrowby, as well as from the Bishops of -Oxford and London. Lord Harrowby, in particular, reflecting on the -Walpoles and the Graftons of former ministerial epochs with just -severity, gave Lord John some wise counsels, while apparently -congratulating him on his widely different policy, in patronizing -Missions! Mr. Sydney Herbert was truly eloquent, and threw out several -sparkling abstractions, which greatly raised my estimate of his mental -power; but the natural orator, among them all, was the Bishop of Oxford, -whose delightful voice, pleading for the creation of a staff of native -Missionaries in Africa, India, and China, infused a thrill of feeling -through every heart, as he wound up with the scriptural example of those -whose first transports, in receiving the Gospel, found vent in the -expression—“We do hear them speak, _in our tongues_, the wonderful -works of God.” - -As duly appointed, I waited on the Archbishop at Lambeth, and was -received with very little ceremony, into his study,—a spacious -apartment, plainly furnished, and overlooking the garden of the Palace. -His manner was, as before, extremely simple and affable; and he -conversed upon divers ecclesiastical subjects with an appearance of -zeal, and with a general tone of elevated churchmanship, for which he is -certainly not celebrated as a Primate. It was with the profoundest -reverence that I listened to the successor of Augustine and of Cranmer; -and not without deference did I venture to express myself, in his -presence, even on American subjects. As I rose to depart, he followed me -to the door of the room, with something exceedingly winning and paternal -in his farewell; and kindly invited me to dine with him, on a day which -he named, as the only one when he expected to be at home for some time. -This pleasure I was forced to deny myself, owing to a previous -engagement; and I accordingly concluded my visit to Lambeth, at this -time, by going the usual rounds in company with an official, to whom His -Grace committed me. My readers may well imagine my emotions in surveying -the Lollard’s Tower, the gallery of historic portraits, the library, and -other apartments, of this most interesting pile; but perhaps they might -not wholly appreciate the feelings with which I knelt in the chapel, and -returned thanks for our American Episcopacy, on the spot where it was -imparted to the saintly White. I lingered, for a long time, in the -gardens, thinking of Laud, of Juxon, and of Sancroft; and dwelling, with -peculiar gratification in my imagination, upon the scenes between Laud -and “Mr. Hyde,” of which these gardens were the witness, as mentioned in -the pictured pages of Clarendon. - -The solemn octave of the Jubilee included Sunday the 22d of June, on -which day special sermons were preached in many pulpits, in London, and -collections made in behalf of the Society. I received an appointment to -preach at Bow Church, and accordingly did so, taking as a text Genesis -ix. 27, and endeavouring to show that the existence of our own Church, -in the Western World, is a fulfilment of the prophecy, “God shall -enlarge Japhet, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem.” But a greater -privilege awaited me in the evening of the same day, when it was my -happy lot to perform a similar duty, in the Temple Church, standing in -Hooker’s pulpit, and preaching to a congregation of the highest -intelligence and character, upon the spread of the Church in America. It -was a fine afternoon, and that glorious Church was filled with such an -assembly as I had never before seen gathered together on an occasion of -ordinary worship. Besides the Bishops of Winchester and Edinburgh, who -happened to be present, with the Master of the Temple, and other clergy, -the benchers were numerously represented, and the finest legal talent of -the empire was undoubtedly there collected. To judge by the large -attendance of ladies, (some of them of the highest rank,) the Templars -were also accompanied by their families: to whom, I suppose, the music -furnishes a powerful attraction, as it is justly celebrated; and the -organ, though selected two hundred years ago, by the critical ear of the -bloody Judge Jeffreys, is of a tone proverbially sweet. The attendance -of strangers, drawn together by the same attraction, was also very -large, the round church as well as the choir, being apparently filled. I -was much moved by the anthem—“Tell it out among the heathen that the -Lord is King”—and when it was time for me to ascend the pulpit, and to -preach to such an Areopagus, it may be imagined that it was not without -feelings of emotion, such as I had never before experienced in the -performance of my official duties. That old historic spot, where Hooker -had struggled to preserve the falling Church of a single kingdom, was -now occupied by my pilgrim feet; and coming from a new world, I was to -attest, before such an assembly, and in the presence of God, the -blessings which that noble struggle had secured, not to England only, -but through her to the wilds of America, and to the unborn generations -of a new and mighty people in another hemisphere. The text was the -prophecy of David, (Psalm xlv. 17,) “Instead of thy fathers thou shalt -have children, whom thou mayest make princes in all lands:” and it was -my effort, (as I trust I may say, without too free a personal -confession) to improve so interesting an opportunity, in commending my -country to the respect of those who heard me, while confessing the just -claims upon her gratitude, of the Mother land, from which she is proud -to derive the blessings of the Gospel, and the institutions of -enlightened freedom, guarded by the supremacy of law. After service, the -Master of the Temple, taking me into his adjoining residence, showed me -a table which once belonged to his great predecessor, Hooker, and -allowed me to sit down in Hooker’s chair. He also showed me some -memorials of Bishop Heber, whose missionary labours in India he had -assisted, as his chaplain. The evening was passed under the domestic -roof of Dr. Warren, the eminent bencher, whose remarkable production, -“Ten thousand a-year,” has added to his other distinctions, that of -reforming the romance literature of the age, and of introducing a tone -of high Christian morality, in place of that fashionable depravity which -Bulwer had caught from Byron, and substituted for the decent propriety -of Scott. To his polite hospitalities I was indebted for some of my -happiest hours in London: and the conclusion of this Holy Day was -rendered memorable by many warm expressions of regard for my country and -her Church, inspired by his conversation, in the genial society of his -family and friends. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - - - _Lord Mayor’s Banquet—Eton College—Hampton._ - - -The Jubilee festival at Westminster Abbey was not allowed to supersede -the annual sermon at St. Paul’s; and accordingly, on the 18th of June, I -attended the service in the cathedral, and heard the Bishop of St. -Asaph. The service was performed with the aid of “all the choicest music -of the kingdom,” for the choirs of the royal palaces of Windsor and St. -James’s were added, on this occasion, to the ordinary musical force of -the cathedral, with very great effect. The clergy, with the Bishops, -entered in procession through the nave, and the Lord Mayor in robes, and -with the civic sword borne before him, figured in the pageant, and -occupied his stall. The sermon was scarcely audible where I sat, within -the rails of the sanctuary, but it seemed to be earnestly delivered. -Then came the Hallelujah Chorus—which I certainly never before heard so -impressively performed. “And He shall reign for ever and ever—King of -kings, and Lord of lords!” The reverberations of the dome, and the long -resounding echoes of those noble aisles prolonged the strain, and made -it like the voice of many waters in the new Jerusalem. - -It was _Waterloo-day_; and, while the Duke was supposed to be feasting -his friends at Apsley House, the Lord Mayor, at the Mansion-house, gave -a city feast to the Clergy of London, with others, among whom I had the -honour of being numbered. It was, in fact, a dinner given to the S. P. -G., in honour of its Jubilee; and I owed my invitation to the kind -offices of the Bishop of Oxford. The Mansion-house is the official -residence of the Lord Mayor, and it is a conspicuous object in -Lombard-street, near the Bank of England. On arriving, we were shown -into an ante-room, where the Lord Mayor received us, and we were -presented to the Lady Mayoress. The room was filled with company, and -here I met several distinguished personages whom I had not seen before. -I was particularly pleased with being introduced, by Dean Milman, to Dr. -Croly, for whose genius and productions I have a high regard. The dinner -was served in the Egyptian Hall, so called from its original resemblance -to a hall described by Vitruvius. It is a spacious banquet-room, and -looks very well when lighted, although destitute of such specimens of -art as would best furnish its nudity of wall, and its many “coignes of -vantage.” The chief table crossed the hall at one end, and at right -angles with this, four long tables stretched through the apartment. The -Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress sat in state at the head, the former -wearing his glittering collar and jewel, as well as his robes, with the -city mace, sword, and other splendid insignia displayed before him. The -Archbishop, with the Bishops, were seated on his right and left, dressed -in their silk gowns and cassocks, in which costume all the clergy -present were attired. The ladies made a very superb appearance, and I -should suppose the whole company numbered about two hundred persons. The -display of plate, and the general show of splendour, was sumptuous, in -all respects, answering to one’s ideas of a Lord Mayor’s feast. An -old-fashioned civic custom, moreover, was observed with a certain degree -of punctilio, which, while highly becoming, was yet to me highly -amusing, and made me feel, all the time, as if I were dining with the -great Whittington himself, especially when his Lordship sent me a glass, -and invited me to the high honour of drinking with him. The mayor of -such a metropolis is, indeed, for the time, a right worshipful -personage, and in the then incumbent I saw before me a most pleasing -representative of the magistracy of the greatest capital of Christendom. -He is attended with a degree of state quite worthy of a sovereign. It -was odd, I must own, to see his chaplain come forward, in the style -described by the cynical Macaulay, and, after saying grace, retire. So, -too, the presence of his post-boy, in flaming jacket and short-clothes, -and glittering cap, with many other servants, in showy and old-fashioned -liveries, gave an antique appearance to the magnificence of the scene. -The dinner was served with like attention to ancient ceremonies, soup, -venison, comfits and all. Before the dessert, instead of finger-glasses, -golden ewers were borne about, filled with rose-water, and thus every -body performed his abstersion most fragrantly. At the head of each table -was then set an enormous golden chalice, with a cover curiously wrought, -the Lord Mayor having a still more magnificent one placed before him. -What next? The toast-master appeared behind his lordship’s chair, and -began—“My Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, my Lord Bishop of London”—and -so on through the roll of Bishops—“my Lords, Ladies and gentlemen! the -Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress greet you in a loving cup, and give you a -hearty welcome.” The Mayor and Mayoress then rose, and taking the loving -cup in hand, she uncovered it for him, with a graceful courtesy, to -which he returned a bow, and then drank, wiped the chalice with his -napkin, allowed it to be covered, and then sat down, while the lady, -turning to the Archbishop, who rose accordingly, repeated the ceremony, -save that he uncovered the cup, and it was her turn to taste the -draught. Thus the cup went round. It was my duty to begin the rite at -the table at which I sat, and happily I received the kindest -instructions beforehand from my partner, so that I did my duty well -enough for a novice: but a more beautiful ceremony, as the pairs -successively rose and sat, along the splendid room, I never beheld. I -thought of Vortigern and Rowena: but the origin of the custom is said to -have been even before the days— - - When they carved at the meal - In their gloves of steel, - And drank the red wine thro’ the helmet barr’d; - -and when, as one lifted his arm to drink, it was deemed a necessary -precaution that one should stand up to guard him from a fifth-rib. With -less ceremony, the custom still obtains in the halls of Oxford; but -where the ladies take a part in it, it is certainly a most graceful -embellishment of feasting. - -Instead of the usual grace after meat, a party of male and female -singers appeared at the foot of the hall, and reverently sang a little -hymn, all the company rising. His Lordship then informed the company -that “on occasion of receiving his friends at the Mansion-house, it was -his privilege to dispense with all rules save those which governed the -ancient entertainments of the city of London, one of which enabled him -to request the ladies to remain at the table, and to hope for the -continued honour of their company during the evening.” After this -velvety preface, he pronounced the first toast, with a similar softness, -and then the toast-master shouted—“My lords, ladies and gentlemen, the -Lord Mayor has given _the Queen_.” All rose, and drank loyally, and then -came “God save the Queen,” which was heartily sung. “Please to charge -your glasses for the next toast,” was the perpetual cry of the -toast-master for the next hour, and always the toast was announced with -like formality, the speeches and the music, that followed, being all -that could be desired. The venerable Archbishop, whose wig gave him a -reverend air of the last century, was peculiarly happy in replying to -the usual compliments to their right reverend lordships, who all stood -while he spoke in their name. The Bishop of Winchester, his younger -brother, who wore his jewel as prelate of the order of the Garter, made -a very fine appearance. The Bishop of Oxford also wore his decoration as -chancellor of that order; and I observed that, on such occasions, he -always wore it with the rosette face displayed, while, in divine -service, over his Episcopal costume, the other face was exhibited; and -very appropriately, as it consists of a pearl ground, with a simple -cross, as in an armorial shield. A trifling fact! and yet where one is -closely observing the peculiarities of a Church, thus intimately working -in with all the civil and social institutions of a mighty empire, the -man is a fool who would not be willing to note it. It is with a view to -a just delineation of these workings, as they are, that I often refer to -incidents, of little account in themselves. This dinner at the -Mansion-house was especially noteworthy, as contrasted with the spirit -of a civic banquet in our own great towns; and I must own, that if it be -desirable that the genius of Christianity should interpenetrate, and -transfuse all the forms of civilized life, the contrast is not in our -favour. - -The entertainment concluded at a comparatively early hour; and then I -drove to another, at the residence of the estimable Miss Burdett Coutts, -in Piccadilly. Here, among other celebrated men, in the most brilliant -party I ever saw, I first met Lord Nelson; and yet again next morning, I -met him, before breakfast, attending the daily service at Curzon chapel. -The week passed delightfully, in frequent social festivities; and I -cannot but particularize a pleasant breakfast party at Mr. Beresford -Hope’s—and one of those admirably contrived ones, at Sir Robert -Inglis’, in which everybody is so sure to meet with everybody and every -thing that is agreeable. On another occasion, at his table, I sat next -to Lord Glenelg, and ventured to engage him in conversation on the -subject of the hymns of his brother, the late Sir Robert Grant, which -are so prominent in our Church Collection, alike for their scholarly and -refined taste, and their devotional fervor. He seemed pleased to learn -of the value set upon them in America; and soon after, on returning to -my lodgings, I found upon my table, as a present from his lordship, a -beautiful copy of his brother’s poems, which I shall always highly -value. - -During the week, I went up to Eton—the place of places, which I had -longed to see, and where I was now invited to visit an enthusiastic -Etonian. This excursion involved, of course, a visit to Windsor, whose -imperial towers so magnificently over-shadow the nest of the choicest -progeny of England. Never did I receive such ideas of the moral grandeur -of the British Constitution, as comprehending Church, State and Society, -as, when, from the fields of Eton College, I surveyed the unparalleled -abode of the British sovereign; and then, from the terrace of the -castle, looked back upon that nursery of British youth; its studious -halls, its venerable chapel, its ample fields for sport, and the crystal -waters of the Thames, flowing between; fit emblem of joyous youth, -passing on to the burthen of the world and the ocean of eternity. - -When Gray looked from that terrace, over the same scene, and conceived -his incomparable Ode, he said all that one ought to say, and I will -attempt no more. One question, however, which he could only ask, it is -reserved for us to answer. - - Who foremost now delight to cleave, - With pliant arm thy glassy wave, &c.? - -Among the boys whom he then saw running and swimming, and driving hoop -and playing cricket, in the old familiar scene, was he who afterwards -conquered Napoleon. I saw the name of Wellesley, with those of Fox and -others as celebrated, carved in the college oak. There, too, were the -busts of Hammond and Pearson, and of Gray himself. The famous men of -Eton seemed to be around me in legions. Who could not catch manliness -and might amid such associations? All day I loitered about those meads, -and towards evening went upon the Thames with a merry party, to see a -juvenile boat race, in the Oxford fashion. Oh, the sport of those happy -boys! One boat swamped, but the little fellows swam lustily to shore, -and ran home laughing. It was the fragrant hay-time. Every -prospect—every breeze was pleasing. As the boats hurried by, and those -patrician lads pulled away at their oars, like day-labourers, I saw how -the mind and muscles are alike developed at Eton. How can the body be -feeble, that is reared with such lusty exercise: how can the mind but -conceive high thoughts, that pursues its very sports with “those antique -towers” on one hand, and that stupendous castle, lifting its gigantic -bulk, and stretching its majestic walls, upon the other? The boys look -upon the right, and there sages, patriots, heroes, priests and princes -have been bred: they turn to the left, and there their Sovereign lives -in august retirement; her imperial banner waves above the keep; and -beneath that solemn chapel sleeps the Royal Martyr, and the dust of -mighty kings, whose names are the material of history. - -I made the usual circuit of the castle; but with the details which every -guide-book furnishes, I would not fatigue my readers. For the mere show -of royal furniture, my mind could find little room; and mere -State-apartments, as such, were even a distasteful sight. But the noble -architecture, and unrivalled site of the castle; its histories, and the -charm which association gives to every tower and window, and to the -whole scene with which it fills the eye—these are the sublime elements -with which Windsor inspires the soul, and impregns the imagination. _Hoc -fecit Wykeham_—is the inscription one catches, deep cut in the wall of -one of the towers: an _equivoque_ which the ambitious architect is said -to have interpreted, as implying that _the work was the making of him_, -when asked by his royal patron how he dared to claim the castle as a -creation, and turn it into a memorial of himself. But who can -appropriate Windsor? The humble poet, by a single song, has taken its -terrace to himself; and every stone, and every timber, might bear some -appropriate and speaking legend. I thought chiefly of Charles the First. -How he loved this castle! How he would have adorned it, and what a home -of worth and genius he would have made it, had he not fallen on evil -times! That truly English heart beat warmly here, a few weeks before it -ceased to beat forever; and along this esplanade was borne his bleeding -body, (on which fell the symbolic snow of a passing cloud,) to its last -sublime repose. “So went the white king to his rest,” says a quaint -historian: and when, at Evening Prayer in St. George’s chapel, I -reflected that his solemn relics were underneath, I felt a reviving -affection for his memory, almost like that of personal love. The dying -sunbeams gilded the carvings of the sanctuary and the banners of the -knights; I sat in one of the stalls near the altar, and observed near me -the motto—_cœlum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt_. When at -length the anthem swelled through the gorgeous chapel—_Awake up my -glory_—I could not but respond, inwardly, that it was meet that the -glory of God should be thus perpetually uplifted in the palace of a -Sovereign, whom he has so magnified in the earth. And to which of her -Sovereigns does England owe it, that she is not now either a cracked -Commonwealth, without God and without government, or else an iron -despotism, in the grasp of successful usurper? He who sleeps under that -chapel said that he died “a martyr for the people:” and so he did. On -the principle by which Macaulay attributes the liberties of England to -her Cromwells, we might attribute salvation to Judas and Pontius Pilate. - -In the twilight I returned to Eton, and went and mused in the chapel, -after searching out the slab that covers Sir Henry Wotton. Then to one -of the _Dames’_ houses, (a tasteful abode,) where several oppidans were -domiciled, with whom I attended family prayers. These oppidans are the -_day-scholars_ of Eton: having no rooms in the college, and sharing none -of its funds. They are the greater part of the Etonians, the sons of -gentlemen and of the nobility, who, of course, do not require the -scholarships. After a sweet sleep, interrupted by hearing the clock -strike and the chimes playing at Windsor, I rose to another delightful -day, and soon after breakfast attended the service in the chapel. Five -hundred and fifty boys were here gathered as worshippers. The service -was an hour long, it being the Anniversary of the Queen’s Accession. -Yet, for the whole time, did those youths maintain the decorum of -gentlemen, and worship with the fervor of Christians. This reverence in -worship is said to have greatly increased during late years among the -Eton boys, many of whom are communicants. It speaks well for their -homes, as well as for their college. What promise for the future of the -Empire! - -In short, the boys of Eton seem to study well, to play well, to fare -well, to sleep well, to pray well. It was a holiday, and I went into the -grounds to see the cricket match: I visited the library, the boys’ -rooms, and the halls. It is a literal fact, that they still revere their -“Henry’s holy shade;” for pictures of “the meek usurper,” are to be -found in almost every chamber. Last of all, I went to the river with an -Etonian friend, stripped, and plunged in. I could not leave that spot -without a swim; and accordingly, after a struggle with father Thames, I -emerged, and soon after left Eton in a glow of genial warmth and lively -enthusiasm. If “manners maketh man,” Eton cannot fail to be the nursery -of great men, so long as it is true to itself and to the Church of God. - -My next visit was to Hampton Court, for which I found a day quite -insufficient, when reduced to the actual hours which one is permitted to -devote to the survey of such a wilderness of natural and artificial -charms, and to the enjoyment of their historical interest. In the -grounds of the palace, and in Bushy Park, I found a formal grandeur, so -entirely becoming a past age, and so unusual in this, that it impressed -me with feelings of melancholy the most profound. Those avenues of -chestnuts and thorns, those massive colonnades and dreamy vistas, wear a -desolate and dreary aspect of by-gone glory, in view of which my spirits -could not rise. They seemed only a fit haunt for airy echoes, repeating -an eternal _Where?_ Nothing later than the days of Queen Anne seems to -belong to the spot. You pass from scenes in which you cannot but imagine -Pope conceiving, for the first time, his “Rape of the Lock,” into a more -trim and formal spot, where William of Orange seems likely to appear -before you, with Bishop Burnet buzzing about him, and a Dutch guard -following in the rear. Then again, James the Second, with the Pope’s -nuncio at his elbow, and a coarse mistress flaunting at his side, might -seem to promise an immediate apparition; when once more the scene -changes, and the brutal Cromwell is the only character who can be -imagined in the forlorn area, with a file of musketeers in the -back-ground, descried through a shadowy archway. Here is a lordly -chamber where the meditative Charles may be conceived as startled by the -echo of their tread; and here another, where he embraces, for the last -time, his beloved children. There, at last, is Wolsey’s Hall, and here -one seems to behold old Blue-beard leading forth Anne Boleyn to a dance. -It still retains its ancient appearance, and is hung with mouldering -tapestry and faded banners, although its gilding and colors have been -lately renewed. The ancient devices of the Tudors are seen here and -there, in windows and tracery, and the cardinal’s hat of the proud -churchman, who projected the splendors of the place, still survives, in -glass, whose brittle beauty has thus proved less perishable than his -worldly glory. - -Yet let no one suppose the magnificence of Hampton Court to consist in -its architecture. One half is the mere copy of St. James’s, and the -other is the stupid novelty of Dutch William. The whole together, with -its parks, and with its history, is what one feels and admires. I am not -sure but Royal Jamie, with his Bishops and his Puritans on either side -was as often before me, when traversing the pile, as anything else: and -for him and his Conference the place seems fit enough, having something -of Holyrood about it, and something Scholastic, or collegiate, also. -Queen Victoria should give it to the Church, as a college for the poor, -and so add dignity to her benevolence, which has already turned it into -a show for the darling “lower classes.” I honour the Queen for this -condescension to the people; and yet, as I followed troops of John -Gilpins through the old apartments, and observed their inanimate stare, -and booby admiration, it did strike me that a nobler and a larger -benefit might be conferred upon them, in a less incongruous way. Perhaps -the happiest thought would be to make it for the clergy just what -Chelsea is to the army, and Greenwich to the naval service. - -Among the interminable pictures of these apartments, some most precious, -and some execrable, the original Cartoons of Rafaelle of course arrest -the most serious and reverent attention. There hang those bits of paper, -slightly colored, but distinctly crayoned and chalked, on which his -immortal genius exhausted its finest inspiration! Who knows not, by -heart, the Lame Man at the Beautiful Gate, St. Paul Preaching at Athens, -the Sacrifice at Lystra, and Elymas struck blind? These are the -autographs of those sublime works; and the Vatican itself may envy their -possession to Hampton Court. But, beyond their antiquarian interest, I -must own they have not for me the attractiveness of a beautiful copy: it -would be a fine thing to own Shakspeare’s autograph of Hamlet, but who -would not rather read and study the play in the clear type and paper of -a modern edition? Next to the Cartoons, I found most interesting the old -historic canvas of Holbein, with its paste-board figures; and after -that, the intensely significant series, which may be picked out, from -room to room, as displaying the spirit of English reigns. Look at that -glorious Van Dyck! How the rich romance of the Cavaliers invests its -mellow lights and melancholy shades! There the voluptuous age of the -Restoration swims before the eye in the dreamy coloring of Lely. See how -old Kneller hardens every tint, and stiffens every line, as he essays to -paint for William of Orange! Then comes Reynolds, throwing a hectic -brilliancy over the starched figures and unyielding features of the -Georgian age; and last of all West, with his brick-dust Hanoverians, -surrendering art itself a prisoner to the intolerable prose and -incurable beer-drinking of his times! Here and there I found a Lawrence, -instinct with the spirit of a happy revival, and giving promise of -better things to come. The collections are also rich in specimens of -Flemish and Italian art; and warmed me with a desire hardly felt before -in England, to be off on a contemplated tour of the Continent. - -On my way to Winchester, I was led to stop for an hour at Basing-stoke, -by an idle curiosity to behold a place in which some of my forefathers -once resided. It gave me an opportunity of visiting the tomb of the -elder Warton, close by the altar of the parish Church. From Winchester I -went by post, in the twilight, over downs, and through dingles and -dales, to Hursley, where I entered the Church, and found Mr. Keble and -his curate celebrating Evening Prayers. I had brought with me, from -Hampton Court, a feeling of overpowering depression, and having seen the -admired poet in circumstances so fitting to his character as a Christian -priest, I was about to turn away, and drive back to Winchester, when -another impulse suddenly prevailed, and I ventured to present myself. I -had a preconception of his piety and unworldliness, that affected me -with awe, and embarrassed me, in approaching him; nor did anything in -his cordiality divest him of something that restrained me in his -presence. Nothing could be more simple and unaffected than his manner; -and yet, in a word, it was as if George Herbert had risen from his -grave, and were talking with me, in a familiar way. He would not hear of -my departure, but instantly made me his guest; and thenceforth I was in -a dream, from the time that I first saw him till I bade him farewell. -Nothing could be more kind than his hospitality; nothing more delightful -than the vision on which I opened my eyes, in the morning, and looked -out on his Church, and the little hamlet contiguous. Hursley is a true -poet’s home. It is as secluded as can well be imagined. England might -ring with alarms, and Hursley would not hear it: and it seems all the -more lonely, when one learns that Richard Cromwell retired hither, from -a throne, and after waxing old in a quiet contentment, died here in -peace, and now sleeps beneath the tower of the Church, just under the -vicar’s windows, with all the cousinry of the Cromwells around him. A -wise fool was Richard! But to think of a Cromwell lying still, in such a -Church as Mr. Keble has made this of Hursley! It has been lately -rebuilt, from the foundation, all but the tower, and its symbolism and -decoration are very rich, though far from being overdone. The taste that -has enshrined itself in “the Christian Year,” has here taken shape in -stones. One of the windows, the gift of friends, is an epitome of that -delightful work, and displays the chief festivals, beginning with the -Circumcision. In the minute adornment of the corbels, my attention was -called to a beautiful idea, which runs through the whole series, and -which is said to furnish the hint for interpreting the ornaments of -older churches. Entering the south porch, you observe the sculptured -heads of the reigning sovereign and the present bishop of the See; and -then, at the door, those of St. Helena, and St. Augustine of Canterbury. -At the chancel arch are St. Peter and St. Paul; and over the altar, -beneath the arch of the East window, are the figures of our Lord, and of -His Virgin Mother. Thus, from the present, the mind is carried on to the -past; and from pastors and rulers, through doctors and apostles, up to -Christ. The north porch exhibits the heads of Ken and Andrewes, of -Wykeham and Fox; while the corbels of the exterior arch of the east -window, bear those of Ambrose and Athanasius. The tower of the Church is -finished by a graceful spire, and the gilded cock surmounts the pile— - - “——to tell - How, when Apostles ceased to pray, they fell.” - -A grateful feeling comes over me at every remembrance of my visit to -Hursley, for I felt all the time like an intruder, receiving privileges -beyond my power to repay, while my kind entertainer seemed as one who -desires no such tribute to his genius as mere tourists are wont to -afford. An inferior character might be flattered to find himself sought -out, of every traveller; but all the heartfelt kindness of the vicar of -Hursley was no disguise, to me, of a spirit that loves the Paradise of a -blessed seclusion from the world, and which nothing but benevolence can -prompt to welcome the stranger, that desires to see him face to face, -and to thank him for the soothing influences and inspiring harmonies of -his perennial songs. - -At Winchester, there are three great sights, besides several of minor -interest: the hospital of St. Cross, the college of Wykeham, and the -cathedral. Let me first speak of the school, a sort of Eton, but less -aristocratic, and certainly far less attractive in its site and -circumstances. It glories, nevertheless, in its founder, and in his -fellow-architect, Waynflete, and in many eminent names in Church and -State. Enough that it bred Bishop Ken; and that his initials may be -found, cut with his boyish hand, in the stone of the cloisters. In the -chapel, what chiefly arrests the eye, is the gorgeous window, with its -genealogy of the Saviour, displayed in the richest colours and designs. -The library, within the area of the cloisters, was an ancient chantry, -designed for masses for the dead in the surrounding graves: and, I -confess, I wish it were still a chapel, in which prayers might be -offered, and the dead in Christ commemorated, although not as aforetime. -Without particularly describing the hall, or refectory, I must not omit -to mention the time-honoured _Hircocervus_, or picture of “the -Trusty-servant,” which hangs near the kitchen, and which emblematically -sets forth those virtues in domestics, of which we Americans know -nothing. It is a figure, part man, part porker, part deer, and part -donkey; with a padlock on his mouth, and various other symbols in his -hands and about his person, the whole signifying a most valuable -character. This for the college menials; but the boys also are made to -remember by it, that, for a time, “they differ nothing from a servant, -though they be lords of all.” In the lofty school-room, they are further -taught, in symbols, the Medo-Persian character of the laws of the -school. A mitre and crosier are displayed as the rewards of scholarship -and fidelity; an ink-horn and a sword intimate that a blotting-out and -cutting-off await the incorrigible; while a scourge suggests the only -remedy, known to the school, short of the final penalty. Under these -salutary emblems, the Wykeham boys of many generations have read and -pondered the legends, which explain them severally, thus—_Aut -disce—aut discede—manet sors tertia cædi!_ Tables of the college laws -are set up with like publicity, after the manner of the Decemvirs. It is -evident that the Wykehamists are in no danger of forgetting that -“manners maketh men.” - -Through a pleasant meadow, and by a clear stream, I made my way to the -hospital of St. Cross, founded by Bishop De Blois seven hundred years -ago: yet, in conformity with the will of that prelate, when I knocked at -the porter’s lodge, I was duly presented with a slice of bread and a -horn of wholesome beer, which I was just then quite thankful to receive, -and to despatch in honour of his memory. To such a dole is everybody -entitled who applies in the same manner: and a larger charity is, at -stated times, distributed at the same place, to the neighbouring poor. -The establishment to which I was admitted, after such an introduction, -is one of the most interesting objects I ever saw. Its old courts and -halls reminded me not a little of Haddon; a pair of leathern pitchers -were shown me, as vessels which once held ale for Cardinal Beaufort: but -its chapel is indeed a relic of surpassing interest. It is built in -cathedral form, and combines both Saxon and Norman details, with the -first formal step towards the pointed arch. From the intersection of two -of its circular arches, according to some, sprang Salisbury -cathedral—the whole idea, from crypt to the vanishing point of its -spire. And from this last remnant of conventual life, why should not the -true idea of such establishments be in a similar manner revived -throughout Christendom? Here live some dozen poor and aged men, who else -would have no home on this side heaven. Each wears a flowing garment of -black, with a silver cross shining on its cape: they call one another -brother; they study to be quiet; prayer is their only business; and -order and neatness reign throughout the holy place. No one can visit St. -Cross without praying that the Church of England may be blessed with -hundreds more of just such homes for aged poverty, and that wherever -wealth abounds in her communion, it may be devoted to erecting them. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - - - _Winchester Cathedral—Relics—Netley Abbey._ - - -In Winchester Cathedral I attended Morning Service, on the feast of St. -John Baptist. I am sorry to say that here, too, the service is -ill-performed; not that there is nothing to enjoy in it, even now: but -that when one reflects what ought to be the daily worship of such a -cathedral, and what it might be, if the laws of the cathedral were -enforced, and if a holy zeal were more characteristic of its -dignitaries: there is nothing to say but—_shame_ on things as they are. -When will the conscience of England clamour against such disgraceful -poverty of cathedral worship; and when will the brain of England wake up -to a sense of what these churches might do for the nation, if rightly -served and administered? The feature of this cathedral which most -impresses the stranger, is its far-sweeping length of nave and choir, -with the light or shadowy vistas, through columns and arches, which seem -to multiply its interminable effect. In its details it is also very -rich, and several of its monuments are of unequalled magnificence. Here -lies, in his superb chantry, William of Wykeham, whose mitred and -crosiered effigy, stretched at full length upon his sepulchre, seems -sublimely conscious of repose, after a life of vast achievement, in -rearing schools for youth, and colleges for the learned, and palaces for -princes, and hospitals for the poor, and temples for God. Bishop -Wayneflete is not less superbly sepulchred in a small chapel, or -chantry, of elegant design, beautifully enriched, and gilded, and kept -in complete repair by the Fellows of his College, at Oxford. His effigy -bears, in clasped hands, a heart, which he thus uplifts to heaven, as it -were, in fervent response to the _Sursum Corda_ of the Liturgy. Over -against this chantry rises, in twin magnificence, that of Cardinal -Beaufort: but in spite of its placid air, beneath those solemn -tabernacles one looks upon his figure with painful remembrances of the -death-scene which Shakspeare has so powerfully depicted. “He dies and -makes no sign,” is the awful thought that haunts the mind, as one -lingers about this perpetual death-bed; and yet it is not difficult to -conclude the inspection with the more charitable ejaculation of King -Henry— - - “Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. - Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, - And let us all to meditation.” - -But Bishop Fox’s monument and chapel are even more affecting than any of -these, from its peculiar combination of ingenious sepulchral devices, -with elaborate graces of architecture. It is overpowering, after -examining the splendours of its canopy and fretwork, to descend to the -little grated recess beneath, where the subject of all this monumental -glory is represented in the humiliation of death and the grave. It seems -like looking into Hades. One sees a ghastly figure of emaciation and -decay; the eyes lying deep in their sockets, in a frightful stage of -decomposition, and the whole frame exhibiting the power of death over -the flesh of the Saints, but suggesting that, while patiently submitting -to the worst that worms can do, it rests in hope and speaks out of the -very grave—“I know that my Redeemer liveth.” In a corresponding chapel, -but of low architectural character, on the other side of the choir, lies -the cruel Stephen Gardiner, the unfortunate son of an adulterous Bishop, -and the fitting purveyor of fire and faggot to the Bloody Mary. The -nuptials of this sulphurous sovereign with Philip of Spain, were -celebrated, by-the-way, in the Lady-Chapel of this cathedral. Strange -that the same Church which entombs her favourite Gardiner, should also -contain the sepulchre of that bloated Hanoverian, the notorious Hoadly, -surrounded with such emblems as the cap of liberty, and the Magna -Charta, in close juxta-position with the crosier and the Holy Bible! The -character of the Bishop would have been better symbolized by some -ingenious device illustrative of the truth, that—“the ox knoweth his -owner, and the ass his master’s crib.” - -One cannot but hope that the superb altar-screen of this cathedral will -be more fully restored than at present, and that a proper altar, or Holy -Table, will be added, such as may illustrate the true spirit of the -Anglican Liturgy, and the richness of its Orthodoxy. A poverty-stricken -altar is surely no recommendation of reformed religion; and were I only -an ecclesiologist, it would delight me to show that such a Holy Table as -even the Court of Arches could not presume to desecrate, might be -erected, in strict conformity with the Anglican ritual, and in perfect -keeping with such a choir, that should put to shame the tawdry -Babylonianism of the Romish altars on the Continent. - -While speaking of the choir, let me not forget the little chests which -surmount the screens of the sanctuary. Who can look at them without -emotion, when informed that they contain all that remains of princes and -priests, and of mighty kings, and fair ladies, their queens. There are -the remains of Canute and of Rufus, of “Queen Emma and the Bishops Wina -and Alwyn.” On one may be read the inscription—“King Edmund, whom this -chest contains, oh, Christ receive.” Another, marking the era of the -Rebellion, with a striking trophy of its infamy, bears the legend—“In -this chest, in the year 1661, were deposited the confused relics of -princes and prelates, which had been scattered by sacrilegious -barbarism, in the year 1642.” The havoc made by the Puritans in this -holy place is everywhere painfully visible. The beautiful chapel, in the -rear of the choir, is filled with fragments of carved work and mutilated -sculpture, which bear silent witness against the “axes and hammers” of -the Puritans: while many a corresponding “stone out of the wall” seems -to cry shame, and “many a beam out of the timber, to answer it.” The -noble figure of a knight, in bronze, upon an altar tomb, bears the marks -of their indiscriminate violence, in deep cuts or hacks made by a sword, -apparently in a spirit of wanton brutality. It was refreshing to turn -from such Vandal tokens, to the simple memorial of one who lived in the -age that produced them, but whose character furnishes altogether as -striking a contrast to the turbulent spirit of his times, as the still -waters and green pastures of his native land afford to the elements of -the Lapland storm. In Prior Silkstede’s chapel, I paid a parting -reverence to the slab that covers the honourable remains of Izaak -Walton. Verily, he served God in his generation: for when they knew not -how to sport at all, he spake of fishes, and when again they sported -like fools, he spake of men. - -After a walk through sweet meads, and by a clear stream, I climbed St. -Katherine’s hill, and took a full view of the city and its suburbs; and -soon after left for Salisbury. It was, indeed, a feast day, that day of -St. John the Baptist, on which I saw two such cathedrals as Winchester -and Salisbury: the former, characterized by all the grandeur of the -long-drawn aisle—the latter, by all the glory of the culminating spire. -The emotions inspired by the one were those of a well-chanted service; -but I found the effect of the other like that of a rapturous anthem. I -speak now of the external views only: and certainly my first view of -Salisbury, that fine midsummer evening, was as a vision of Paradise. The -heavenward shooting of all its parts, and the consummate unity of effect -with which they all blend in the sky-piercing pyramid, around which they -are grouped, exceeds all that I ever saw of the kind. I only grudged to -the levels of Salisbury, what ought rather to crown such a sovereign -hill as that of Lincoln. - -This Church is familiar to the architect as the full-blown flower of his -art. It stands in a lonely retirement from the town, and, sitting down -in its precincts to enjoy the view, I found myself uninterrupted in my -meditations for a long, delightful hour, the only intruders being some -nibbling sheep that pastured under the walls, and the chattering rooks, -that seemed to amuse themselves in making a spiral flight round the -spire, and so winding up from its base to its tapering point. Beautiful -for its figure and its decoration, is that spire, and so is the -incomparable tower, from which it springs like a plant; and wherever the -eye rests in wandering over the splendours of its surrounding walls, -buttresses, pinnacle, arches, and gables, all is in keeping, and one -spirit seems to animate the pile. I am sorry to confess disappointment -as to the interior. It is so neglected, and has been so much impaired. -The clustered columns that support the tower have yielded to its weight, -and are visibly bowed and sprung from their piers. The chapter-house -exhibits a shameful neglect, and its beautiful decorations have suffered -from violent abuse. The present Bishop is exerting himself effectually, -however, in the work of restoration: and one cannot but hope that the -next generation will see this cathedral the seat of a living and working -system of diocesan zeal, and the centre of Gospel life and influence to -the surrounding rural district, and its many needy souls. - -A series of altar tombs, in the nave and aisles, gives a peculiar effect -to the spaces between the columns, and to the arches above. Among them -is the tomb of an unfortunate nobleman, who was hanged for murder some -three hundred years since, and over which was, for a long time, -suspended the silken noose which suspended him. The tomb of a -boy-bishop, marked by a little figure in pontificals, is a curious relic -of mediæval mummeries; and not less so is the sepulchre of Bishop Roger, -a Norman, who first attracted the admiration of King Henry I., by the -galloping pace at which he contrived to get through a mass. I paid a -more reverent tribute to the plain slab that covers Bishop Jewell, who, -with all his faults, deserves the rather to be reverenced, because this -age has bred a set of men, who seem to take pleasure in spitting upon -his memory, while defiling, with equal insolence, the face of their -Mother the Church. - -As evening came on, I took a post-chaise for Amesbury and Figheldean, -where I had been invited to visit that interesting personage, Mr. Henry -Caswall, a clergyman who has done, perhaps, more than any other man, to -make known, in England, the history and peculiar characteristics of the -American Church. He is by birth an Englishman; he is nevertheless in -American orders, and thus, in his person, unites the Church in which he -ministers to that in which he received his commission. The interest with -which I now sought his acquaintance may therefore be imagined. After a -pleasing drive over the downs, and a rapid inspection of the curious -remains of “Old Sarum,” I found myself in a small, but picturesque -hamlet, in which almost every house was thatched, clustered at the foot -of a knoll, on which rose the parish Church of “Filedean”—for so it is -pronounced. In a few minutes I was Mr. Caswall’s guest, and, for the -first time since leaving home, I was able to talk over American subjects -with one who entirely understood them. After a cordial reception by his -amiable family, a long and cheerful review of American matters closed -this very happy and memorable day. - -I was much entertained to observe in Mr. Caswall many of those traits of -enterprise and efficiency which seemed to me to be developments of what -we should call Western life, though the English would consider them -simply American. That he is naturally enterprising and ingenious to a -great degree, I am sure no one can doubt: it was probably this -characteristic which originally led him, though a nephew of the Bishop -of Salisbury, to seek the wilds of Ohio, and to become a Missionary -under Bishop Chase. But who, that had not been disciplined to invention -in our Missionary field, could exhibit, as he does, the fruits of this -faculty, in an exuberant degree, amid all the comforts of an English -vicarage! A river runs near his Church; he has boats upon it of his own -construction, and one has paddle-wheels. In the tower of his ancient -Church, there ticks a clock of very curious mechanism: it is entirely of -his own manufacture; he cast one of its wheels in Kentucky, and bought -another in New-York! So, too, he has lately built an organ, which -discourses excellent music; and his other ingenuities are innumerable, -to say nothing of his very able works, in which he always contrives to -tell what is worth knowing, and to say what is just to the point. - -In his neighbourhood is Milstone, the birth-place of Addison, to which -he conducted me with obliging enthusiasm. The native nest is a modest -parsonage, hard by the Church, which is one of the very humblest of its -kind, and has no tower. I peeped in at the windows, and saw where -Addison was baptized. Our walk was extended to Durrington, where a fine -Church was re-appearing on the foundations of a very ancient one. In the -afternoon of the same day, this kind friend took me to Amesbury, where -the remains of a Roman encampment are still visible in some trenches and -hillocks, which were made by the soldiers of Vespasian. Thence we went -to see the grounds of the once celebrated Duchess of Queensbury, and a -grotto, which was formerly frequented by the poet Gay. We passed an old -lodge upon this estate, which gave shelter, during the Reign of Terror, -to a community of French nuns. Next, we drove to the famous Stonehenge, -on Salisbury plain. To me, these gigantic remains of Druid superstition -were of surpassing interest: and while my friend explained to me the -various theories of their origin and use, I found the actual inspection -of this old scene of horrible idolatry, the rather fascinating, because -from its still existing altar, one can just descry over the hills in the -horizon, the needle-like point of the spire of Salisbury. I never felt -before, that England had once been Pagan, and that the Gospel had -conquered it, and made it all that Salisbury is, as compared with this -accursed temple of the idol Bel. The Chaldean Shepherds seem indeed to -have shared their superstition with those of Salisbury. - -We drove over the plains, so called, to visit Wilton, and my attention -was continually attracted by the shepherds and their flocks, not unlike, -in some respects, to those who are seen on the Roman Campagna. Their -dogs, who do the work of men, in searching stragglers, and in driving -and tending the sheep, are interesting objects. Of course the story of -Hannah More came often to mind as we encountered these sights. But other -interesting associations were excited by the evident remains of old -Roman roads, which traversed these pasturages in ancient times. There -were, besides, some strange circular hollows, in form like saucers, of -undoubted Roman origin, which lay on either side of our way as we drove -over a sort of ridge-road. As we left the downs, we had a fine view of -the surrounding country, and descried Trafalgar House, the seat of Lord -Nelson, at a distance. We passed a noble estate of the Pembroke family; -and visited the magnificent Church, at Wilton, reared by Mr. Sydney -Herbert, at his personal expense of sixty thousand pounds. It is a -superb Anglican basilica, a curiosity in England, as departing from the -historical architecture of the realm, and closely resembling the finest -churches of Italy. It is, however, a blessing to the place, and is -largely frequented by the poor. From this splendid Church we drove to a -still more interesting one, although a church as remarkably poor as this -is costly. The smallest and plainest little Church I had yet seen in -England was reached at last, and reverently entered. A few pews, a -chancel and Holy Table of starving plainness, and a pulpit to match! -This was holy Herbert’s Church—this was Bemerton! I climbed, and then -crawled into the little box of a belfry, to see the bell which he tolled -when he was instituted; and then I went outside, and looked in at the -window, through which he was descried tarrying long at prayer, on his -face, before the altar. How a good life can glorify what otherwise would -be utterly without attractions! Even in America, I have seldom seen a -church look so mean as that at Bemerton: yet few places have I ever -visited with more of awe and affection; and verily, all the -embellishments of the Sistine Chapel failed to produce in me such a -sense of the beauty of holiness, as did the sight of the humble altar, -at which ministered before the Lord two hundred years ago, that man of -God, George Herbert. - -Reaching Southampton early in the evening of a mid-summer day, I had -time enough, during the long twilight, for an excursion to Netley Abbey, -which I made in a boat, rowed by an old waterman and his son, a lad of -twelve years. The descending sun threw its radiance over the bright -Southampton water, as we left the pier, and a pathway of burnished gold -seemed to lie in our wake, as we glided rapidly along. The boy -volunteered to sing a little hymn which he had learned at Sunday School, -and, accordingly the praise of God was sweetly wafted by the sunset -breezes that played about us; and if I have heard more romantic strains -on the Venetian waters, since then, from the gondoliers, I can testify -that they were no sweeter, and not half so inspiring to a devout -disposition. This beautiful bay was filled with many sails, and the -neighbouring shores, on every side, were highly picturesque. We reached -the “glad nook,” whose corrupted Latin name survives, in _Netley_, just -in time to disturb the composures of the rook and owl, as they were -congratulating themselves on the close of the day, and settling for the -night, the one in his dormitory, and the other in his watch-tower. There -was enough of day to display the entire beauty of the ruins, and enough -of melancholy night to give them a mysterious solemnity. Here I stumbled -over piles of rubbish, overgrown with grass and wall-flowers, among -which slender trees have sprouted side by side with the branching -columns of the architect; while through graceful tracery, and broken -vaulting, I looked up into the deep heaven, and descried the first stars -as they began to twinkle in its unfathomable azure. I fancied I could -hear the gentle sigh of the waters on the pebbled beach, which spreads -hard by beneath its walls, and the charms of the spot, as a home of -religion, became very vividly impressed on my mind as the soft -susurrations appeared to bewail the loss of responsive vesper-songs from -the consecrated pile. It was a bewitching hour for such a visit: and -when I went down into crypts, and gloomy vaults, which were barely light -enough to enable me to feel my way, and to descry the surrounding -outlines of Gothic ruin, through loop-holes and doorways festooned with -luxuriant ivy, all that I ever read of romance, in its wildest forms, -seemed conjured about me. It was quite dark as we returned, but the -waters glittered with tremulous reflections of many lights on the shore; -and our little pilot sung—“There’s a good time coming, boys!” with a -sort of pathetic thrill, which made me love him, and I prayed that he -might live to see the good time which he so feelingly promised himself. -I conversed with him freely, and found that he had been taught of God, -in the bosom of the Church. - -Next morning I took the steamer to Cowes. The sail down the sea of -Southampton was very pleasant, and my fancy was as busy as my sight, as -we skirted along the shore, from which the “New Forest” stretches away -towards Dorsetshire, covering many a square mile of merry England with -woods as dense as those of our own primeval wilds. How exciting to -reflection, the view of a wood which, for so many ages, has perpetuated -the violence of William the Norman, and the tragic memory of Rufus! A -gay little French woman, who knew nothing of the history, however, and -who seemed to take me for an Englishman, expressed herself, in her -sprightly vernacular, in terms of rapturous delight, with reference to -the scenery alone. She was overwhelmed with the luxurious beauty of -England, as contrasted with the penury which stares you in the face for -leagues and leagues in France, in places where nature only needs a -little aid from cultivation to assume a face as cheerful as those of its -inhabitants. When we passed Calshot Castle, and had the Isle of Wight in -full view, I was nearly as much inspired as herself. The admirable -service which the island renders to the British fleet, became apparent -as we looked towards those “leviathans afloat,” at Spithead; but I -turned with greater interest towards the Solent, and tried hard to -descry that lonely spur of Hampshire, on which stands Hurst Castle, the -scene of one of the most thrilling episodes in the closing history of -Charles the First. As we approached Cowes, it reminded me of Staten -Island, off New-York, and, at first, I hardly knew to what I owed the -association, though the similarity of scene is considerable; but when a -second glance showed me a noble ship, of unmistakeable American -proportions, with the American ensign fluttering at her peak, just under -the lee of the island, I felt the home-feeling overpoweringly, and could -have shouted my salutation to my country’s oak, with full lungs and a -fuller heart! I pointed it out to the French woman, and told her of my -country, and then I was saluted with her voluble congratulations, in -such terms as showed that she, at least, thought it a land of which one -has a right to be proud. - -Osborne House is a prominent object, on the rising bank of the Medina, -as one drives from Cowes toward Newport, and I looked with no little -interest at the beautiful home in which Victoria and Albert live the -life of private people, without sacrificing the dignity which they owe -it to the nation to sustain. It delights me to say that they have the -reputation of cultivating, there, every domestic virtue; and I was -charmed with a popular print, which one sees in the neighbourhood, -representing the family at Osborne, on their knees, with the prince -reading prayers among his children. - -I was fortunate in visiting this gem of the sea, during the most -pleasant part of the year. The hay-makers were at work, and everywhere a -delicious fragrance filled the air. Our drive from Newport to Chale -afforded many pleasing views, and my first view of the open sea was -enchanting. The channel was as smooth as glass, and the vessels that lay -upon it scarcely seemed to move. From the celebrated Black-gang Chine, -the view of the chalky coast of Dorset, the curving shore of -Freshwater-bay, and the bristling file of cliffs, called “the Needles,” -was truly superb. Then wheeling round the bold head of St. Catherine’s -Downs, we entered that sweet realm of Faerie, called the Undercliff, -where a palisade of rock rises on one side of the road, and the -sea-beach lies below, the exposure being such as to receive the breath -and the sunshine of the genial south, with all the vigorous breezes of -the ocean. Here the roses bloom all the year in the open air, and Nature -has made it all that Nature could, by a combination of her charms. -Indeed, the circuit of the coast, from here to Yaverland, seen, at -various hours of the day, in all the shifting effects of the sun and -shadows, affords a panorama of incomparable attractions: here a dense -grove, and there a deep cleft in the rocks, intercepting the sea-view, -and then, again, a fresh apocalypse of beauty, breaking upon the sight, -at some unexpected turn of the way. The murmur of ocean comes to the ear -just as the eye catches the numberless smiles of its surface, and a -glimpse through green foliage will often discover a brilliant -perspective, in which the blue sea, and the gray rocks, and the fading -horizon, are enlivened by a stretching show of snowy canvas, reflecting -the golden light of the sun, sail after sail, the tiniest glittering far -off on the verge of the expanse, like a star in the twilight. - -The Tom-thumb Church of St. Lawrence, with walls six feet high, and all -the rest in proportion; the beauties of Ventnor, and Bonchurch, and -Shanklin Chine; in short, the entire scenery of the Undercliff is -enchanting, and bewitches one with a desire to build a tabernacle there, -and to rest from one’s labours. At Brading, I paused, in honour of good -Legh Richmond, and visited the grave of his “Young Cottager.” Ryde is a -pleasant place enough, something like our Staten Island towns in -situation, and in many other particulars. But my drive from Ryde to -Newport, through Wooton and Fern-hill, disclosed many of those inland -scenes of rural beauty, for which the Isle of Wight is unsurpassed. -Hedges, thick and green, on each side of the road, with wild woodbine -twisting all over them, and loading the air with perfumes, were the -appropriate frame-work of rich fields, waving with golden crops, -fragrant with new-mown hay, or filled with pasturing cattle, while here -and there they enclosed a little garden full of flowers, or were broken -by the prettiest cottages in all the world, neatly whitewashed, and -trimly thatched, and planted about with white and red roses, clambering -over the windows, mounting to the eaves, and even straggling among the -straw, to the ridge of the roof. Again I caught a glimpse of the towers -of Osborne; but it seemed to me that the Queen herself might be willing -to exchange them for these charming little snuggeries of her contented -peasantry. - -But I came to the Isle, above all, to see Carisbrooke Castle, and -thither I went, after a night at Newport. It was a bright, unclouded -morning, and I went alone. Over a little bridge you pass to the great -doorway, between two massive towers, hung with verdure, and pierced with -cross-shaped arrow-slits. All was as quiet and as beautiful as if no -history brooded over the spot, with strange and melancholy witchery. The -twitter of a bird, the nodding of a wild rose in the morning breeze, the -sparkling of the dew upon the leaves, all seemed to share something of -the mysterious spell. ‘How still, and yet how speaking, thought I, this -scene of mighty personal struggles, of a crisis of ages, of overwhelming -sorrows! Is it not conscious of its own dignity? Poor Charles! after -seeing thy brief wrestling with adversity, it has lapsed into -desolation, and lets the world have its own way, while it alone wears -enduring tokens of sympathy with thee!’ - -I saw the window where the King made one last effort to be free. Sir -Thomas Herbert’s portraiture rose all before me, and a thousand busy -thoughts, which any one may imagine, but which language fails to arrest, -much more to convey. Ascending to the keep, surveying the undulating -scenery, and loitering here and there among the ruins, the past, the -entrancing past floated around me like an atmosphere; and I felt how -much more powerful than romance, is the charm of historic fact, when -invested with living interest, by associations of religion, by -connections with surviving realities, and by the perpetual attraction -and moral sublimity of an example of greatness and worth, tried in the -furnace of affliction. - -Nor did I forget that lily among thorns, the little princess who died in -this doleful prison, of a broken heart, after bewailing her father’s -murder a single year. The sweet child, Elizabeth! what a thought it was -to imagine her moaning her young life away, amid these gloomy walls, -surrounded only by the butchers of her adored parent, mocking her woes! -Among tales of childhood’s sorrows, there have been few like hers. - -Everybody has heard of “a pebble in Carisbrooke well.” I tried the usual -experiments, and saw a lamp let down in it, three hundred feet, and then -drank of the water, drawn by donkey-power, with all the sublime emotions -conceivable on such an occasion. There is a story that the well was -originally of Roman construction, and that the Romans had a fortress -here, which it first supplied. At any rate, it is a very good well, and -no doubt administered many a refreshing draught to the royal prisoners, -to whom “a cup of cold water” was well nigh all that the charity of the -place afforded. - -Crossing from the Isle of Wight to Portsmouth, I had a fine sight, in -the incessant broadsides which were fired by her Majesty’s ship, the -“Vengeance,” anchored at Spithead, apparently for exercise, or sport. -The gallant ship, the blazing port-holes, the rolling clouds of smoke, -and the reverberating thunders, made our transit, from shore to shore, -one of exciting interest. The “Royal George” went down just in that -anchorage, and there she lies now. I paid a visit to the “Victory,” in -the harbour of Portsmouth, after an unsuccessful effort to board the -beautiful yacht, in which the Queen makes her progresses by sea. On the -deck of the “Victory” fell the idolized Nelson: a small brass plate -marks the spot. After looking at this, and trying to reproduce the -scene, I descended to the cock-pit, and surveyed the dark and gloomy -cell in which he breathed his last, reclining against a huge rib of his -ship. Poor soul! If he had but served God as he served his King, there -would have been a glory in that death, beyond that of “victory, or -Westminster Abbey.” After a rapid survey of the dock-yards, I made my -way, by rail, to Chichester. - -A fine market-cross distinguishes this city, and is kept in excellent -repair. But the great attraction is, of course, its cathedral, a -mutilated but still noble structure, which I found well worthy of a -visit. It exhibits some praiseworthy restorations, and I was pleased to -find that its nave is frequently used for sermons. It has many tombs and -monuments of note, and many of its architectural peculiarities are -attractive. Relics and antiquities connected with the history of the See -are shown, and it is painful to find, in one apartment, mysterious -evidence of the ill uses to which a church could be put, before the -Reformation. In the Bishop’s Consistory Court, there is a secret door in -the wainscot looking like a mere panel. This moves with a slide, and -covers a massive gate, with a lock, which opens into a strong room, once -used as a prison. It was no doubt the scene of suffering for conscience -sake, in the days of the Lollards. - -After having so lately described other cathedrals of much greater -interest, I will only add, concerning this, that I was much pleased to -note among its monuments the modern one, by Flaxman, commemorative of -the poet Collins. Architecturally, indeed, it is out of place: but the -unfortunate bard was a native of the cathedral precinct, and the -Christian artist has seized upon that incident in his unhappy life, -which attests the consolations which highest genius may derive from the -same source that makes childhood wise unto salvation. “I have but one -book,” said he to a visitor, shortly before he died, as he held up the -New Testament, and added—“the best.” - -My next stage was Brighton, where I enjoyed a sea-bath, and a brief -survey of that beautiful creation of fashion. But my chief enjoyment -here was received in the delightful hospitalities of a distinguished -family, which I shall always remember with sincere regard, as embracing -some of the most agreeable persons I have ever met. Among the varieties -of English character which have most charmed me, those to which I now -gratefully refer, are often reviving in memory, as affording a true -ideal of domestic happiness, enlivened by sentiment, and hallowed by a -spirit of devotion. - -I was forced to make a very rapid survey of the southern coast, passing -by the old abbey at Lewes and the castle at Pevensey; and pausing -scarcely an hour upon the noble beach at Hastings, and amid the ruins of -its castle. With greater regret I was forced to omit visits to Battle -Abbey, to Hever Castle, and to Penshurst, to the last-named of which I -had an especial drawing, for the sake of Hammond and Sir Philip Sydney. -I was engaged to spend St. Peter’s day at Canterbury, and to be the -anniversary preacher, a privilege to which I was willing to sacrifice, -many other pleasures. Passing, therefore, through some pretty Kentish -scenery, and pausing to visit the old monuments at Ashford, I made my -way, before nightfall, to the city of pilgrimages, and was received as a -guest within the Warden’s lodge at St. Augustine’s. An anniversary -dinner was served in the hall, at which several distinguished personages -were present; and afterwards I saw the ceremony of admitting a scholar -to the foundation. I then visited the room over the gateway, which -lodged King Charles I., on his bridal tour; and, after service in the -chapel, retired to my room in this holy and religious home of the -Church’s children. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX. - - - _St. Augustine’s Chapel—St. Martin’s—Addison—Thompson._ - - -In the chapel of St. Augustine we kept St. Peter’s Day, and commemorated -the benefactors of the college. It was a cheering spectacle to behold -around me those missionary youths, devoted to the noblest warfare which -can enlist the energies of man, and destined, as I could not but pray, -to see and to achieve great things in the extension of the kingdom of -Immanuel upon earth. And how inspiring to them the associations with -which they are surrounded! On the very spot which they inhabit, the -Missionary Augustine preached the Gospel to their ancestors, when -Anglo-Saxons were but pagans, and now they go forth from it, as from the -very centre of Christian civilization, to bear the precious seed to the -uttermost isles of the sea, so that what England is, Australia may -become. - -In the afternoon, I preached in old St. Martin’s, which probably is the -very oldest Church in England. Its name of St. Martin is probably a -second designation, given to it when it was fitted up for the use of -good Queen Bertha, before the conversion of her husband, Ethelbert. Such -a Church is spoken of by Bede, as having been built before the Romans -left the island; and as Roman bricks, of unquestionable antiquity, are a -large portion of the material of this Church, it is on this and other -accounts generally dated from A. D. 187, and supposed to have been -originally erected by some good Cornelius of the Roman army. Be that as -it may, Queen Bertha’s tomb is in the choir to this day: and the ancient -font is with good reason supposed to be that in which Ethelbert was -baptized. What hoary antiquity, what venerable and august dignity invest -this sacred place! It is of humble dimensions, and both without and -within bears the marks of its primitive character, in its plainness and -simplicity, but it is kept in good repair, and regarded with the -affectionate reverence which is so becoming. The yews and the ivy which -adorn it with their shade, are, apparently, almost as old as the Church: -and the church-yard gently slopes from the church-door to the road-side, -giving a beautiful elevation to the old pile, and presenting a highly -picturesque effect to the passer-by. - -But how shall I describe the cathedral, whose huge bulk everywhere lifts -itself into sight above this curious and reverend old town? The -metropolis of the Anglo-Catholic communion is graced by an -Archiepiscopal church, every way worthy of the majestic relations which -it bears to Christendom. There it stands, like the Church of England -itself, worthy to be “the joy of the whole earth,” and not more -magnificent and imposing, than harmoniously chastened throughout with an -air of sovereign splendour subdued by solemn propriety. There is about -it, as compared with other English cathedrals, a sort of aggregated -look, strikingly significant of the massively conglomerate body which -the Anglican Church has already become, and something of which has -characterized her from the beginning. The double cross, in form of which -the cathedral is built, very appropriately, in view of its primacy, -heightens this effect: and the result is, that its prestige is well -sustained, when the pilgrim sees before him the head church of his -religion. A blessing on its ancient towers, and may it more and more -become “dear for its reputation through the world.” - -On Sunday and the day following, when I attended service in the -cathedral, I had the best opportunities for surveying it throughout, -under the attentive guidance of Lord Charles Thynne and the estimable -Archdeacon Harrison. I am glad to say that the service here was very -effectively celebrated, though a larger force would have been more -worthy of the place and of the work. The organ is quite concealed in the -triforia, and its sound is somewhat peculiar as it issues from those -high cells, in perfect unison with “the full-voiced choir below.” As to -the effect of the cathedral upon the eye, I remember no interior, save -that of Milan, which can compare with it for impressiveness; and if, -from general effect, we descend to details, this cathedral is vastly the -more solemn and magnificent of the twain. Its altar, for example, is one -of the most lofty in Christendom, the choir rising from the nave by a -long flight of steps, and the altar being elevated, in like manner, very -high above the level of the choir. The several ascents and various -levels of the Church, instead of too much breaking its whole, seem to -add an air of vastness and sublimity to the general design. But when one -surveys, now the nave, and looks upwards into the tower, and along the -far-sweeping vaultings, and now the choir and its intersecting arches -and vistas; or descends to that varied undercroft, with its chapels and -sepulchres, and twisted columns, and French inscriptions; or mounts to -make circuit of the tombs and chapels, pausing within “Becket’s Crown” -to admire its unique and anomalous elegance; and then makes his way -through the cloisters into the chapter-house, and finally escapes into -outer day, and looks up again at the vast pile, through which he has -been wondering and wandering so long—the impression left upon the mind -is one of astonishment, like that of the Queen of Sheba, when “there was -no more spirit in her.” I had seen the spot where Becket fell beneath -the stout blows of his murderers—the marble floor which received his -blood still exhibiting a speaking memorial of the tragedy, in a small -mutilation which was made in sawing out the bloody block, to be carried -to Rome as a relic; I had seen the remains of the same prelate’s shrine, -where his sovereign submitted to flagellation, where princes presented -so many costly oblations, and which once glittered with such gorgeous -wealth before the eye of Erasmus; I had seen the stone-stairs leading up -to his sepulchre, worn away by the thousands of devotees, among which I -reckoned those of certain Canterburie pilgrims, accompanied by Dan -Chaucer himself; I had seen the tomb of the Black Prince, with his -lion-like effigy—over which dangles his surcoat, a thing of tatters, -but which no one can behold without emotion, when he reflects that it -once encased the beating heart and chivalrous breast of that gallant -Plantagenet. I had beheld the recumbent effigies of the usurping -Lancaster, Henry IV., and his Queen, Joan of Navarre; and I had surveyed -the memorial works, or sepulchres, of the primates of all England, from -Lanfranc to Chichely; but after all, I bore away no remembrance more -pleasing than that of the monumental window and tomb of the late -Archbishop Howley, commemorating, as they do, a most worthy prelate, and -marking the great epoch of a revival of theology, and of practical -faith, throughout the Church of England. This tomb is surmounted by the -recumbent effigy of the Bishop, and presents a most graceful specimen of -reviving art. He is habited in his sacred vestments, to which the -addition of the cope gives completeness and effect; and as the -Archbishop wore that vestment at the coronation of Queen Victoria, there -was reality to justify its use. In short, I was glad to see that even in -the cathedral of Canterbury, and without servility in copying the -antique, our own age can erect a monument, and surmount it with a -figure, literally true to its original, which is worthy of the place as -a work of art; and which, if it is more modest than the mediæval -sepulchres which surround it, is still in perfect keeping with all their -splendour; while it tells the simple story of a primacy the most -brilliant in its contemporary achievements of any that has ever blessed -the Church of England, since the days of Augustine. It will be forever -celebrated as distinguished by the rapid extension of Anglican -Catholicity in all quarters of the globe, and by a holy effort for the -restoration of unity to the Church of God. - -The city of Canterbury abounds in quaint nooks and corners—old gates, -and fragments of wall;—and, in particular, is marked by an ancient -mound, or artificial hill, called the _Dane John_, which is much -reverenced as a work of the aboriginal Britons. Some will have it that -it was raised against the Danes, as its name appears to import; but it -strikes me as something of religious origin, and not unlike those -mysterious _tumuli_ which abound in our own Western country. If truly -British, indeed, who knows but some primeval _Madoc_ built both it and -them? - -It was my fortune to hear in the cathedral, as an anthem, that _chef -d’œuvre_ of Sternhold and Hopkins, which must have been written in some -fit of poetical inspiration, vouchsafed to them for those two verses -only— - - “The Lord descended from above - And bowed the heavens high,” &c. - -The extract has been set to noble music, but who was the composer I -cannot say. After a visit to the Deanery, and a gratifying survey of its -long gallery of ecclesiastical portraits, I was shown into the -surrounding gardens, and conducted to almost every part of the cathedral -precincts, and finally dismissed by an ancient gate, which, owing to -some tradition, retains the romantic name of Queen Bertha’s postern. But -let me not conclude my remembrances of Canterbury without a warm tribute -to the delightful society to which I was introduced at St. Augustine’s, -and among the dignitaries of the cathedral. The esteemed Warden, who -received me as his guest, and who so kindly entertained me, deserves my -most grateful acknowledgments. - -On the morning of my departure, rising very early, and accompanied by a -friend, to whom I had become warmly attached since my arrival in -England, I drove out, through pleasant Kentish scenery, to the parsonage -of Borne, which is from Canterbury three miles distant, according to -Izaak Walton; following the example of the many, who once did so, to see -the face of the venerable and judicious Richard Hooker, though I could -only hope to see his tomb, and the church in which he ministered. I -shall never forget that morning drive, nor the reverence with which, at -length, I beheld Hooker’s own church, and the parsonage in which he so -loved to see God’s blessings spring out of the earth about his door. I -entered the holy place, and there was his bust, coloured by the old -artist to represent life: and looking at it, through my hands, so as to -shut out the surrounding parts of the monument, I was verily able to -conceive that I beheld good Master Hooker in his pulpit, about to speak. -It imprinted a live idea of the man upon my memory, which I would not -lose for many costlier things. The place called up many of those graphic -anecdotes which his quaint biographer has chronicled concerning him; but -I was especially reminded of that scene between the Puritan intruders -and the old parish clerk, who, when they sat down on joint stools to -partake their communion, said, as he resigned the keys with a heavy -heart, “Take the keys and lock me out, for all men will say Master -Hooker was a good man and a good scholar, and I am sure it was not used -to be thus in his days.” I could not but remember, moreover, that within -those walls Hooker had passed many a lonely Ember-day, locked up for -fasting and prayer; and ‘who knows’ said I to myself, ‘but we are even -now realizing the blessed answers to those intercessions for the Church, -in all parts of the world?’ - -On my way up to London, I paid a visit at S—— Park, the residence of a -young country squire, who had lately taken his degrees at Cambridge, -married, and settled here on his hereditary estate. The life of an -English gentleman, of this degree, has always struck me, as nearly the -most perfect realization of sublunary bliss, which the world affords. -Nor did the glimpse which I thus gained of such a life, in the least -disappoint me. The young mistress of the mansion, in the momentary -absence of her husband, kindly made herself my guide, over a portion of -the estate, in search of him. No ceremony—and no attempt to appear -fine. In a moment she was ready, and as she led me hither and thither, -she was not above taking me to her poultry-yard, and her dairy, and -showing me her amateur farming. We entered a fine field of standing -corn—the golden wheat of Kent—and as we passed through the narrow -foot-path, my fair guide informed me ’twas their way to parish church, -and just then I descried the church itself, at a little distance, in its -modest beauty, at the foot of a hill. A lark flew up, and she pointed at -the little fellow, as he mounted the skies, and poured out his song, -reminding me of a remark I had made to her, that we have no sky-larks in -America. She entered a pretty farm-house, where a decent-looking family -were just taking their tea: they treated her as they would have done a -descended angel, while she, in the prettiest tones, inquired whether -they “had seen their Master thereabout,” and so, thanking them, -departed. We soon encountered the young “Master,” who gave me a kind -welcome, and showed me the further attractions of the estate. Then home, -and soon to dinner, and after that, a pleasant summer evening sauntering -about the doors and under the old trees of the park, where the rooks -kept up a great cawing in consequence of our intrusion. In many -respects, the place did not differ much from many American residences -that I have visited; but in others it did, and chiefly in the entire -ease and nature with which everybody, from the squire to his humblest -menial, nay, even the house-dog, fitted his place, and seemed to enjoy -it. We have no servants in America, though we have slaves. All -white-complexioned people scorn to obey. Hence the misery and the -stiffness of housekeeping, and the deplorable multiplication of those -vulgar establishments called “fashionable hotels.” Let me add, -concerning this happy abode of unostentatious English comfort and -refinement, that what especially pleased me was the devout appearance of -the household servants at family prayers. They all joined in the -devotions, and each had a Prayer-book in hand, which appeared to be a -cherished companion of their daily routine. Happy the household where -all the inmates, from the least to the greatest, have one Lord, one -faith, and one baptism. - -The ancient castle and the cathedral of Rochester were taken in my way -up to London; but, interesting as they are in themselves, I might fail -to make them attractive, in a description so vague as I should be -obliged to give them, and so, with a passing tribute to their merits, as -religious and feudal monuments of the past, I must again return to -London. - -In frequent visits to Westminster Abbey, I had become familiar with -every portion of it, including cloisters, chapter-house, and library. In -the library, by the politeness of one of the dignitaries, I was favoured -with a minute inspection of some of its most precious historical -deposites. Such were the dies from which were struck the coins of Henry -Fourth, and many succeeding sovereigns, rude works of art, depending -upon blows of the hammer to produce their impression. In the -chapter-house is the original Domesday-book, and many other historical -documents. I was shown the instrument by which Edward I. was authorized, -by twenty-three competitors, to settle the Crown of Scotland upon one of -their number. The seal of Bruce’s father is very distinctly visible. -Here are Henry VII.’s very minute instructions to his commissioners to -examine the personal claims to his choice, of a young princess, whom he -proposed to marry, with their not over-gallant reports. A superbly -decorated instrument, dated at Amiens, August 18, 1527, and signed by -Henry VIII., and Francis, was also a great curiosity. It has a golden -seal, with the legend—_Plurima servantur fœdere, cuncta fide_. Among -other parchments, one signed by Mary, as Queen of France, with her -husband Francis II., was interesting. I saw also the stamp, used by -Henry VIII., to affix his signature to parchments, in his dying days; a -prayer-book of Queen Elizabeth’s; and a fine old Missal of 1380, from -which some zealous reformer had erased the service for Becket’s-day, and -several prayers for the Pope. - -But all these were inferior in interest to the tombs and chapels of the -Abbey. Many of the monuments are in wretched taste, and a general -banishment to the cloisters, of those which are not in keeping with the -architecture of the church, would be a great improvement. The residue -should then be repaired and decorated. But even as they are, they -present a most interesting epitome of history, and a most affecting -commentary on the vanity of worldly grandeur and greatness. With Henry -VII.’s chapel, and its royal sepulchres, I was greatly impressed, and -the near neighbourhood of the tombs of Mary and Elizabeth, struck me as -forcibly as if I had never heard of the strange proximity, in which -they, who once could scarcely live in the same world, here mingle their -dust with the same span of earth, and side by side, await the judgment. -Oh, what pomp of sepulture attests the universal reign of death in this -ancient temple! Here, in the chapel of Edward the Confessor, stands the -throne, which has been the glory and the shame of so many who lie -sleeping around it. The rough old stone, inserted in its base, is the -Scottish palladium; and the old monkish fable makes it one of the stones -of Jacob’s pillow, at Bethel. The monuments of Edward III., and Queen -Philippa, and that of Henry V., commanded my especial attention. Above -the latter, are preserved the saddle, shield, and helmet, which he used -at Agincourt. The body of Edward I. rests beneath a plain altar-tomb. In -the centre of the chapel is the shrine of St. Edward: and it is as near -as possible to these relics of their predecessors, that English -sovereigns are still anointed and crowned in the adjoining choir. At -such times, if these silent tombs are startled by the shouts of the -multitude that cry—_Long live the King_, how much more forcibly they -must speak to him, in their mute expressiveness, reminding him of his -nothingness, and calling him to prepare for a long home in the dust! - -To the reflections of Addison and of Irving, in this consecrated pile, I -shall not attempt to add my own. The sweet interpreter of the moral of -this wonderful place, sleeps appropriately under its tutelage, and few -are the graves within it, which more affect a kindred heart. To see the -grave of Addison, which was lately marked by a small white stone, in the -pavement of one of the chapels, suggests a kind of postscript to his own -musings; and, as I stood, thoughtfully, over it, I seemed to hear his -voice, out of the sepulchre, confirming his living words. I thought, -moreover, how much has been done, since his day, to add to the interest -of the holy place—even in addition to his own grave! How many tombs I -saw, which he did not—his own among them! Addison knew nothing of -Johnson’s sepulchre; stood not by the rival relics of Pitt and Fox; -thrilled not as he approached the resting-place of a Wolfe, or a -Wilberforce; and little dreamed how much more than the shrine of Kings, -his own last bed would impress a stranger from America, in the -nineteenth century. How transcendant the enchantment with which genius -invests its possessor, where it is paired with virtue! With what -refreshment I often turned from the royal tombs to the Poets’ Corner; -and there, with what reverence did I turn most frequently to the -monuments of those whose high artistic inspiration was characterized by -the pure spirit of love to God. It was pleasing to behold the memorials -of Chaucer, and of “rare Ben Jonson;” but with a fonder veneration I -paused more frequently before that of the stainless Spenser. I thought -of his words concerning “the laurel”—and how fittingly they apply to -this Abbey, as the— - - “——Meed of mighty conquerors - And poets sage.” - -With a different sort of pleasure I surveyed the wonders of the British -Museum. There, a scholar can find all he needs in the way of literary -food, freely bestowed. I do not admire the new buildings; but the -Institution is worthy of a great nation, and reflects eternal honour on -George the Third. Will the Smithsonian, at Washington, ever rival it? -Its newest and its oldest treasures, were the great stones from Nineveh, -so cleverly described by the _Quarterly_. With what emotions I surveyed -those illegible hieroglyphics; and scraped acquaintance with those -“placid grinning kings, twanging their jolly bows over their rident -horses, wounding those good-humoured enemies, who tumble gaily off the -towers, or drown, smiling in the dimpling waters, amidst the ἀνήριθμον -γέλασμα of fish.” - -The English, though a proud people, are really very moderate in their -appreciation of the manifold charms of their incomparable isle. When I -surveyed the river-view from Richmond-hill, I recalled the glorious -waters of my own dear country, and many a darling scene which is -imperishably stamped in my mind’s eye, and asked myself whether, indeed, -this was more delightful to the sight than those. I was slow to admit -anything inferior in the scenery of the Hudson and Susquehanna, when I -compared them with so diminutive a stream as the Thames, and I even -reproved myself for bringing them into parallel; but over and over again -was I forced to allow, that “earth has not anything to show more fair,” -than the rich luxuriance of the panorama which I then surveyed. A river -whose banks are old historic fields, and whose placid surface reflects, -from league to league of its progress, the towers of palaces and of -churches which, for centuries, have been hallowed by ennobling and holy -associations; which flows by the favourite haunts of genius, or winds -among the antique halls of consecrated learning; and which, after -sweeping beneath the gigantic arches, domes and temples of a vast -metropolis, gives itself to the burthen of fleets and navies, and bears -them magnificently forth to the ocean; such an object must necessarily -be one of the highest interest to any one capable of appreciating the -mentally beautiful and sublime; but when natural glories invest the same -objects with a thousand independent attractions, who need be ashamed of -owning an overpowering enthusiasm in the actual survey, and something -scarcely less thrilling in the recollection! When I afterward looked -towards Rome, and descried the dome of St. Peter’s from Tivoli, I felt, -as Gray has somewhere observed, that nothing but the intellect is -delighted there, while on Richmond-hill, the soul and the sense alike -are ravished with the view, and fail to conceive anything more -satisfying of its kind. If ever, which God forbid, the barbarian should -overrun this scene, and make ruins of its surrounding villas and -churches, the contemplative visitor of a future generation will still -linger on those heights with far more of complicated and harmonious -satisfaction than can possibly refresh the eye that wanders over the -dreary Campagna. Yet how few of the great and fashionable in England -have ever allowed themselves to appreciate the glories of their own -scenery after this sort! - -But whether on those lofty banks, or down by the river-side, or wherever -I wandered amid their green retreats, I owned to myself one sad -disappointment. I repeated over and over again those verses, learned in -school-days, in which Collins bewails the poet of the Seasons:— - - “Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore, - When Thames in summer wreaths is dressed, - And oft suspend the dashing oar, - To bid his gentle spirit rest.” - -Where was “yonder grave,” and where “yon whitening spire?” It was with -some chagrin that I followed my directions into the dullest haunts of -the town, and into a modernized church, in an unromantic street, and -there soliloquized, over a miserable brass plate, amid a pile of -pew-lumber—“In such a grave your Druid lies!” It is amusing, on a few -square inches of worthless metal, as entirely devoid of artificial value -as it is of intrinsic worth, to observe the vanity with which a man of -rank has contrived to write his own name in as large letters as those of -the poet’s. “The Earl of Buchan, unwilling that so good a man, and so -sweet a poet, should be without a memorial, has denoted the place of his -interment, &c.”—so reads the inscription. The Earl has at least the -merit of having exactly expressed the character of his tribute, for it -_denotes_ the place, and that’s all. One would think a Scottish nobleman -might have spared a few guineas in doing something better for the grave -of his countryman. - -A glimpse of Twickenham, and of the spire of the church where Pope is -entombed, were all that I allowed myself, in honour of a bard whose -faultless verse is no excuse for the frequent indecency and paganism of -its sentiment. It is a curious and revolting fact that his skull has -been purloined, and now belongs to a phrenologist. I caught a railway -view of Dachet-lane, famous for Falstaff’s experiences in the -buck-basket, and so once more to Windsor! I stopped, over a train, to -enjoy one more walk on the castle terrace, and one more look at Eton -college, and then hastened on to Oxford, to attend the Commemoration. I -accepted the hospitalities of my friends of Magdalen, who lodged me in -the rooms formerly occupied by the Bishop of Exeter. - -During my visit I did not fail to see the celebrated Dr. Pusey, who -struck me as a younger man than he is generally supposed to be. His -appearance indicates nothing eccentric or ascetic, and his manners are -those of a gentleman at home in the society of his fellow-men. He has -friends and foes at Oxford, as well as elsewhere, but all seem to regard -him with respect as a man of piety and learning. To me he was less a -lion, however, because I have always regarded the application of his -name to the great movement of 1833, as a mere instance of popular -caprice. His share in it has been less than that of many others; neither -the credit of its good, nor the disgrace of its evil, belongs to him in -any superlative degree. Its progress has left him, with others, far in -the rear of its existing interests; and what has been stigmatized as -_Puseyism_ is perhaps, when fairly distinguished from the extravagances -of a few fanatics and sophists, the English phase of a world-wide return -to principles that were the life of Christianity, long before Popery was -in existence, and ages before it had bred Protestantism by its violent -reaction. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI. - - - _Oxford and Cambridge._ - - -I had seen Oxford in vacation, and again during term; I had now the -privilege of attending its Encænia. The occasion brings many -distinguished persons to the University, and the pleasures of dining and -breakfasting in the college-halls, and with private parties, are greatly -enhanced by such additions to the company of eminent residents. The -ceremonies in the Academic theatre sadly disappointed me. Imagine an -open area, filled with gownsmen and their friends, and surrounded by -tiers of boxes filled with ladies, above which, near the ceiling, is -elevated a third tier, full of undergraduates. The Dons and doctors, in -their robes, sit on either side of the Vice-Chancellor, at one extremity -of the theatre, in a place something between a row of boxes and an -orchestra. In the presence of ladies and of such grave and reverend -seniors, one naturally expects decorum from all parties; but though I -had often read of the frolics in which the undergraduates are permitted -to indulge on these occasions, I confess I was not fully prepared for -the excessive and prolonged turbulence of the scene. While awaiting the -opening of the ceremonial, it was well enough to laugh at the cheers of -the youth as they called out successively the names of favourite public -personages, or at their sibilations, when the names of “Lord John -Russell” and “Cardinal Wiseman” were proposed for merited derision. But -when, again and again, as the venerable Vice-Chancellor rose to make a -beginning, his voice was vociferously outnoised by that of the boys -overhead, I began to think the joke was carried a little too far. There -had been some omission of customary music, and to supply the deficiency, -uprose those legions of youth, and shouted—_God save the Queen_, in -full chorus, stanza after stanza, till the Dons looked eminently -disloyal in their impatience. The Creweian Oration was delivered by the -Public Orator, and I was particularly desirous of marking his -pronunciation of Latin words, as well as the general merit of a -performance in which once, upon a like occasion, Bishop Lowth so -handsomely acquitted himself. But, I think, I speak within bounds when I -say that scarcely an entire sentence could be heard, from beginning to -end. All manner of outcries assailed the speaker, from his rising till -he surceased. At one time, an extremely impudent personality excited a -general smile. The orator waxed warm as he spoke, and growing quite -rubicund of visage, some flagitious freshman cried out—“Pray stop; it -makes me hot to look at you.” Several distinguished individuals, bishops -and generals, and scientific men, were presented to receive the -_Doctorate in Civil Law_, and now I supposed the hospitality of the -University would suffice to shield the eminent personages from the -annoyance of such untimely fun. But there was no cessation, and when Sir -W. Page Wood was presented, there was a merry cry of “_inutile lignum_,” -at which no one laughed more heartily than the party himself. Verily, -thought I, if this were unheard of in England, and were only set down in -the book of some peregrine Dickens, as what he saw in America, at a -Harvard Commencement, how inevitably would it figure in reviews and -newspapers as a telling fact against the disorganizing tendencies of -democratic education! In Oxford, it is regarded as a mere outbreak of -youthful merriment, and such is indeed the case: and yet, unless -_Encænia_ and _Saturnalia_ are synonymous terms, one must be allowed to -think the custom best honoured in the breach. I must add, that during -the delivery of a poem, by an undergraduate, his comrades showed more -respect, and the tumult subsided for a time, like that of Ephesus, on -the remonstrance of the town-clerk. The young poet pronounced his -numbers in the same tribune where once stood Reginald Heber, enchanting -all hearers with his “Palestine.” - -A lunch in the superb new hall of Pembroke, of which many ladies partook -with the other guests, giving the hall an unusually gay appearance; a -dinner at Oriel, and afterwards sport with bowls, and other games, in -the garden of Exeter; and, finally, a very agreeable evening party at -Magdalen; these were the other occupations of the day, in which I -greatly enjoyed the society with which I mingled. I was particularly -pleased to observe the enthusiasm of the female visitors of Oxford, many -of whom had come up for the first time, and were less acquainted with -the place than myself. It was a novel pleasure, on my part, to turn -_cicerone_, and to explain to a group of English ladies, the wonders of -the University. - -Next morning, after breakfast at Merton, and a lunch at Jesus College, -with some kind friends who were preparing to leave Oxford for the Long -Vacation, I went, in the company of some of them, to Bedford, and there -took coach for Cambridge. I thought of John Bunyan, who once inhabited -the county-jail, in this place, and there composed his wonderful -allegory; and as I began to travel along the banks of the Ouse, I -thought of William Cowper, who was one of the first to do justice to his -piety and genius. If the Church of England, sharing in the fault of the -times, (and visiting others with far milder penalties than both Papists -and Puritans laid upon her) was in any sort a party to his ill-usage, it -must be owned that she has done him full justice, in the end. He owed -his enlargement to the Bishop of Lincoln’s interposition, and Cowper and -Southey have affixed the stamp, and given currency to the gold of his -genius. I am ashamed that he was not taken into the Bishop of Lincoln’s -house, and made a deacon, and so cured of the mistaken enthusiasm which -was evidently the misfortune of the tinker, and not the natural bent of -the man. - -Our journey lay over a dull and level country, and there was little to -enliven it, except the conversation of a young Oxonian going to see the -rival University. A cantab, returning from Oxford, maintained a -good-natured debate with him, in favour of his own _alma-mater_. We went -through St. Neot’s, where I remembered Cowper again; descried at the -distance of some twenty miles the majestic bulk of Ely Cathedral, and -finally greeted the fair vision of King’s College, conspicuous among the -other academic homes of Granta. It was the fourth of July—and thoughts -of the very different scenes through which my friends were passing in -America, were continually in my mind. Here it was not thought of, though -a day which has left its mark upon Great Britain, and the world. Was it -the day of a rebellion? By no means; unless the day that seated William -of Orange on the throne of England was such. Our fathers ceased to be -Englishmen, because a corrupt and incompetent Ministry were resolved -that they should no longer be freemen. I thank God we are no longer at -the mercy of such men as Lord John Russell, and Sir William Molesworth. -So I mused, even as I stood, for the first time, in venerable Cambridge, -where some of my forefathers were educated, and where I felt it a sort -of wrong to be disinherited of a filial right to feel at home. - -I was not disappointed, disagreeably, in Cambridge, but the reverse; and -it grew upon me every hour that I was there. One of my first visits was -to the truly poetical courts of Caius, where the singular quaintness of -its three gates charmed alike my sight and fancy. “Before honour is -humility”—and here the proverb is translated into architecture. You -must pass through the gate of humility, and the gate of virtue, before -emerging through the gate of honour. Strange that the beneficent founder -of this college, like Dr. Faust, in Germany, should have left his name -to legend-makers and fabulists, and so to comedy, and the “Merry Wives -of Windsor.” - -The noble twin of Oxford is certainly inferior in the appearance which -she first presents to a stranger, and yet, from the first, the chapel of -King’s is a superb sight, which even Oxford might almost grudge to her -sister. I greatly regretted reaching Cambridge during a vacation, when -comparatively few of the gownsmen were on the spot. Still, having become -so familiar with academic manners, in Oxford, it seemed hardly necessary -to do more than survey the still-life of Cambridge, in order to -understand it as well. The diversities between the Universities are -indeed many, and all my prepossessions are in favour of Oxford; and yet, -after a brief external survey of her rival, and much conversation with -some of her loyal sons, I can easily understand their attachment to her, -and the pride they take in her reputation, as well as their firm -conviction of her superiority. To an American, indeed, the late election -of so unfit a person as Prince Albert to be their Chancellor, is a -surprising thing; and it is no very bright omen, for the University, -that the prince already aims to shape it, as near as possible, after the -similitude of Bonn, his own garlicky, blouse-wearing, and pipe-smoking -_Alma Mater_, in Teutschland. But, on the other hand, the spirited -resistance which was made to that measure, in bold opposition even to -the known wishes of a beloved Queen, is instanced, by many -Cantabrigians, as a proof of devotion to great principles, of which they -have reason to be proud. They have a thousand better reasons for being -proud of their University, and would that their Chancellor, who is -otherwise so well qualified, had the power to appreciate and feel them -half as warmly as many an American does, from the depth of his soul! - -Cambridge struck me as an older and less modernized place than Oxford. -Its streets are a labyrinth, and many of them present the appearance of -Continental, rather than of Insular Europe. One of the first things that -struck me was the conduit erected by the same “old Hobson” whom Milton -celebrates, and from whom comes the adage of “Hobson’s choice.” He was a -carrier, and kept horses to let, but made the Cantabs take the horse -that stood next the stable-door whenever they came to hire. He certainly -was a remarkable man, for what other carrier was ever consigned to -immortality by a monument in Cambridge, by a practical proverb, and by a -memorial in the verse of such a poet as Milton? - -As the means of information respecting Cambridge are in everybody’s -hands, and as the picturesque of its colleges and grounds is familiar -from engravings, I shall spare my reader the trouble of details which -might seem a repetition of those of Oxford. In St. John’s college, which -its own men are accused of considering the University, I found the -chapel, though small and plain, a most attractive place. Its “non-juror -windows,” and other memorials, revive many historical names. I know not -why the Johnians have received the Pindaric epithet of Swine, but so it -is; and the peculiarly pretty bridge, spanning the Cam, which unites its -quadrangles and halls, has accordingly won the sportive name of the -“Isthmus of _Sues_.” In the very pleasant grounds adjacent, I plucked a -leaf from the silver-beech, said to have been planted by Henry Martyn, -and breathed a blessing on his memory. A fellow of Trinity kindly -devoted himself to showing me the attractions of his college, and they -are very great. The library is a Valhalla of literary heroes, the sons -of Trinity, whose busts adorn the alcoves: and the statue of Byron, by -Thorwaldsen, is a superb addition to its treasures of art, which, on the -whole, will do no harm here, excluded as it was from Westminster Abbey, -by a virtuous abhorrence of the bold blasphemer whom it represents, and -thus stamped as deep with infamy as it is otherwise clothed with -attractiveness. Among the relics of the collection, there were two which -any man must behold with reverence: a lock of Sir Isaac Newton’s hair, -and the original manuscripts of Paradise Lost, and of Lycidas! Then to -the chapel—that chapel which ever since I read “the Records of a Good -Man’s Life,” in school-boy days, I had longed to see, and where I had -often wished it had been my lot to pray, in college life. In the -ante-chapel, there was that statue of Newton, so beautifully described -by the author, as arresting the melancholy attentions of a consumptive -youth, as he passed it, for the last time, in his surplice, and -confessed that this had been too much his idol, in that house of God, -filling his enthusiasm with the worship of genius, when he should have -thought only of his Maker. I shall never forget the thrills of excited -imagination with which I received some of my first impressions of -Cambridge, in reading that story of Singleton: and now they all revived -as I stood upon the spot. - -Among the attractions of the small colleges, I must not omit to mention -the chapel of Jesus College, which has lately undergone a thorough -restoration, and presents one of the most beautiful specimens of revived -mediævalism in art which I have ever seen. It is the work of an -accomplished gentleman of the college, assisted to some extent by the -voluntary contributions of undergraduates. Nothing of the kind which I -saw in Oxford can compare with this exquisite Oratory. I went to -Christ’s college and saw Milton’s mulberry—a pleasant memorial of his -best days; the days when he was the “lady of his college” for youthful -comeliness, and the man of his college for the genius that produced -Lycidas, and for the unsoured feelings that could yet appreciate “the -high embowed roofs,” and the “studious cloisters” by which he was there -surrounded. Happy would it have been for him, had he kept that youthful -heart! The mulberry is propped up like an old man on his staff, and -shielded from the weather by a leaden surtout, but must soon cease to be -the last living thing that connects with the name of Milton. - -What a place is Cambridge, when its minor colleges suggest such names! -As I passed what was formerly Bennet college, I thought of Cowper’s -lines on his brother. There, too, was Pembroke, suggesting thoughts of -Bramhall and of Andrewes—of Andrewes whom even Milton could praise, -albeit he was a prelate. There was Peterhouse, reminding me of good old -Cosin. More than all—there was little Caius (pronounced _Keys_) where -Jeremy Taylor, the poor sizar and the barber’s son, passed so often to -and fro, beneath its quaint old gates, bearing a soul within him, which -in after years he poured forth, like another Chrysostom, and made a -treasure for all time. I am sorry to say there is another college there, -which suggests the odious name of Cromwell, the man who kindled the -fiery coals in which the golden heart of Taylor, and the hearts of -thousands more, were well refined, and seven times purified. - -The Fitzwilliam Museum is a noble collection of antique sculpture and -architectural relics, with a library and paintings, and has been housed -superbly in a building, which is a great ornament to Cambridge, although -built, in modern taste, and in Grecian style, suiting the things it -contains better than the place which contains it. I received far more -pleasure, however, from a visit to the celebrated round church, which -has been lately restored, and whose name, St. Sepulchre, refers it to -the era of the Crusades. But how shall I speak of King’s College Chapel? -I was not so fortunate as to see it filled with its white-robed -scholars, but its own self was sight enough. “Such awful -perspective”—indeed! Such tints from such windows—such carvings—such -a roof! It springs and spreads above you, light as the spider’s web, and -yet it is all massive stone, and its construction is an architectural -miracle. I climbed to the roof, and walked upon that same vaulting, as -upon a solid stone-pavement. It is put together in mathematical figures, -and on principles purely scientific; but modern architects are puzzled -to explain them. Above this, there is another roof, which is exposed to -the weather, and from which one enjoys a fine view of the town and the -surrounding country. The walks and avenues of limes, which stretch -before King’s, and which connect with the grounds of Trinity and St. -John’s, are inferior to nothing in Oxford, and are generally pronounced -by Cambridge men superior to Christ church meadows and the walks of -Magdalen. I strolled among some magnificent limes in the grounds of -Trinity, which might well apologise for a student’s opinion, that no -other college in the world has such grounds and trees. As for the river -Cam, its beautiful bridges, I am sorry to say, are reflected in a very -sluggish and dirty tide, called “silvery” only by poetical license. - -Dining in the hall of Trinity, I was overwhelmed by the sublime -associations of such a place, as illustrated by the portraits around me. -Everywhere were the pictures of great historic sons of this college; -here was Pearson, and there was Barrow; and before us, as we sat at -meat, were Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton. What children has this Mother -borne; not for herself, but for all mankind! And thus much I will say -for Cambridge, as compared with Oxford, that whereas amid the -architectural glories of the latter, one almost forgets the glory of her -sons, you are reminded, at every turn in Cambridge, that her chief -jewels are the great men she has brought forth. One cannot give her all -the credit, indeed: she has been singularly fortunate; but when hers are -Bacon, and Newton, and Milton, and Taylor, and stars, in constellations, -of scarcely minor magnitude, what university in Christendom can call -itself superior? If Granta has her peer, there is nothing that is more -than that on earth. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII. - - - _Cathedral Tour—The Border._ - - -A cathedral tour now lay between me and Scotland, to which I began to -make my way rapidly. All that I had yet seen of architecture, promised -to be the mere preface to what was still before me, in the splendours of -Ely, of Peterborough, of Lincoln, of York, and of Durham. To my reader -it will be impossible to convey the idea of variety and ever-novel -delight with which these successive miracles of the builder’s art -impressed me, as I passed from one to the other, from day to day; but I -will touch on the more special characteristics of each, in full -confidence that what is most striking in old historic monuments, like -these, can never tire the head that is furnished alike with eyes and -brains. - -The train took me swiftly to Ely, over a fenny district, which supplied -nothing of interest, except the distant view of the towers, which loomed -up, more and more, as we drew nigh the little city. How different this -railway approach from that celebrated by Wordsworth:— - - “A pleasant music floats along the mere, - From monks in Ely chanting service high, - Whileas Canute the king is rowing by!” - -I found this magnificent work partly in ruins—partly undergoing a -beautiful restoration; and as the pavement of the choir was torn up, I -beheld a stone-coffin, in which, perhaps, lie the bones of one of those -very monks, who were singing in the days of King Canute. At my request, -one of the workmen raised the lid of the coffin, and there lay the skull -and bones of an old ecclesiastic, the former quite entire; or, perhaps, -it was St. Ethelfreda herself, who began her building here in the -seventh century. If so, they are repairing her works, in the nineteenth, -in a spirit of nobler art, than she ever imagined. The restorations are -truly superb, and a future visitor will find the choir of Ely one of the -most impressive temples in Christendom. What an age of restorations this -is, in the Church of England! ’Tis a nobler reformation than that of -three hundred years ago—for that was, necessarily, one of haste and of -overthrow. Now a calm constructiveness is at work, holding fast all that -was gained before; but giving it the finish, which was impossible then. -And these material restorations are but the symbol of a great spiritual -awakening, concerning which, there is one painful thought which no -student of English History should ever forget. It is this, that but for -the Puritans, all this would have been done in the seventeenth century! -Greater and better men were then on the stage than any that are now -living, and all that the age of Victoria is doing for Christ, it was in -the heart of King Charles to do. It is impossible to say what might not -have been the blessed results for the Universe had the Church of England -been in a condition to tempt the Church of France to an alliance in -1682. All we can say on the other hand, is that, let Macaulay declaim as -he may, progressive freedom would have been established in England -without the paradoxical intervention of a Cromwell, while there is -nothing left us, as the direct results of Puritanism, except a few -Socinian congregations, and the “Dissenters’ Chapels’ Bill.” - -The massiveness of some portions of this cathedral, and the lightness -and grace of others, are very impressive. Its length is very great, and -the vista “long drawn out.” Amid its ancient monuments I spent a solemn -hour of musing, while the light of the descending sun, through the -clere-story and lantern, showered a soft and melancholy radiance over -the whole interior, admirably harmonizing with the reflections it -necessarily inspired. - -I found Peterborough another sleepy little city, and the cathedral -beautifully situated, with the Bishop’s palace hard by. It is a severe, -but grand exterior, and presides over the surrounding trees, and roofs, -like a sort of divinity. It is quite free of encroachment from other -buildings; but its close, or precinct, is guarded by a circuit of -prebendal, and other ecclesiastical houses, with turreted and arched -gateways, which seem to command a reverent approach to the sacred spot. -I omit a technical description of the architecture, but must be allowed -to give some account of the Sunday I spent there, and of one or two -little things that deeply affected me. - -While the bells were thundering for Morning Service, I stood in the -nave, wholly lost in contemplation of its plain, but massive majesty. A -train of children entered, with their teachers, evidently a -Sunday-school. I watched the little procession as it wound its way amid -the columns, and turned to the left of the choir. Following them, I saw -them enter the choir, by a small side-door, and as they stepped into it, -every little foot fell on a slab of stone, in the centre of which was a -little brass plate, not so large as one’s hand. When all had gone in, -and were kneeling in their meek array, I drew near, and stooped down to -see over whose dust they had been treading. I read a few words, but they -thrilled me like electricity—“Queen Katherine, 1536!” Here, then, lies -that proud daughter of Arragon, whose mournful history has left its mark -upon nations, and upon Christendom! The scene in Shakspeare rose before -me—Pope—Cardinals—Princes—Henry VIII. This stone covers all, and -peasants’ babes trip over it as lightly as if the life that lies -extinguished there, had been as simple as their own! - -In the corresponding spot, on the other side, lies just such another -slab, over another sepulchre. The body has been removed to Westminster -Abbey; but its first repose was here. The brass has been torn out; but -it once read, “Queen Mary, 1587”—for here the poor Queen of Scots was -laid, headless, and festering in her cerements, six months after that -fatal day, in the neighbouring Fotheringay Castle. The date of her -interment offers the best apology for the severity she had suffered, -although nothing can excuse the sin of Elizabeth. It was the year before -the Spanish Armada; and it is now known that she had, _two years -previously_, given her kingdom to Philip II., inviting that bloody bigot -to set up his Inquisition among her Scottish subjects, and excluding her -own son from his right. Such was her crime against her own people, -aimed, however, more especially at England, by her fanatical zeal. -Between these solemn tombs of a Queen of France, and a daughter of -Spain, I worshipped that day, and received the Holy Communion, to my -comfort. The anthem was a familiar strain, from Mozart, which we sing in -America to the Christmas hymn, set to words from the Psalter—_Quam -magnificata opera tua!_ The Bishop of Peterborough was the preacher, and -I heard him again at Evening Service. As you leave the nave through the -western entrance, you see an odd portrait set against the wall, that of -a grave-digger, spade in hand. Underneath, you read—“R. Scarlett, died -1594, aged 98.” He buried the two Queens, and the inhabitants of the -town _twice over_, as you learn from uncouth rhymes subjoined. Was ever -such a “king of spades?” - -Next morning I saw “Lincoln, on its sovereign hill,” and heard the Great -Tom—“swinging slow with sullen roar.” The restorations going on in the -choir had driven the service into a little chapel, near the west end; -but the singing was very sweet, and solemn, though entirely without -ceremony. I devoted the morning to the survey of this model of art, -which I like the better, because it is, in part, a monument of the -Anglican Liberties, as they were maintained in the middle ages, against -the Roman Pontiff. The central tower is the work of brave old Bishop -Grostéte, in the thirteenth century. He was the predecessor of Wycliffe -and Cranmer, in defying the Pope, and in spite of papal anathemas, he -died in peaceful possession of his See. All honour to his pious memory. - -It is the custom to admire the west front of this cathedral -extravagantly; but I confess that with all that there is to admire in -its separate parts, the whole seems, to me, ill-composed. The towers, -more particularly, strike me as possessing no unity with the mass of -architecture, behind which they rise, as from a screen, whose broad -rectangular frontage detracts from the apparent height. It is only as -seen from the foot of the hill, that the whole architectural bulk -affects the eye sublimely, towering majestically over the town, which -crouches at its base. The whole pile affords to the architectural -student every luxury of his art, both within and without; but such were -the desecrations which it suffered from the Cromwellians, that few of -those gorgeous shrines, for which it was formerly distinguished, remain, -to delight the ordinary visiter. In the cloisters have lately been -discovered some Roman remains: a mosaic pavement, in particular, such as -the traveller is so often shown in Italy. “The Jew’s house,” so called, -a relic of mediæval art, was more interesting to me, as connected with -the legend of the little martyr who lies in the cathedral, and who is -celebrated by Chaucer, in the tale of the Prioress. - -The City of York makes an imposing show, crowned by the glories of its -vast minster, and walled in, like Chester, with ancient ramparts, which -nearly encircle the town. How singular the reflection that Constantine -the Great was a native Yorkshire-man, born in this town, in A.D. 272! -Here, too, his father died, in A.D. 307, and he succeeded to the empire, -going forth to reform pagan Rome, as I trust the spirit of England has -even now gone forth to do the same for Rome papal. Here, too, died the -Emperor Severus vainly striving to reconcile his sons Caracalla and -Geta. Among the monuments of the Roman Forum, these names afterward -reminded me of York; while, across the broad Atlantic, the immense city -where I had been brought up, had always been to me, her memorial. How -many were the reflections with which I walked the whole circuit of her -walls, and surveyed the town, the ancient castle, and the surrounding -scenery, and then sailed upon the river beneath! The beautiful ruins of -an old abbey, near the river, still delight the antiquarian; but after -cursorily surveying these, I hastened to the cathedral. - -The western front of the minster is worthy of its extraordinary fame. -The semi-barbarian features of many of the cathedrals are here -superseded by what might seem to be the idealized perfection of their -rude details. The unity which was wanting in Lincoln, seemed to be here -complete and entire; and the rich and delicate tracery which invests it -has the appearance of an elaborate tissue of lace, fitted over the stone -after the substantial part was complete. From other points of view, the -impression is less of grace, and more of majesty. The whole is sublime -in its effect beyond that of any other cathedral that I ever saw; and -even in Milan, I could not but say to myself, as I gazed on its -wonderful _Duomo_—“after all, it is, as compared with York, only a -beautiful monster.” There is something about it which realizes the idea -of a cathedral, in its model form; and this is a charm that is wanting -in many others of its class. In its ample choir, I was more affected by -the service than at any other place, with the exception perhaps of -Canterbury, so far as it depended on the elevating influence of mere -architecture, consciously felt and employed to ennoble the sacrifice of -praise and prayer. With the survey of the chapter-house, cloisters, and -tombs, I was less interested than with repeated efforts to take in the -vast sweep of the interior, and to animate it with visions of what it -may yet become, when Deans and Canons wake up to the immense -responsibility of their opportunities to work for the glory of God. The -tone of the service, and the swell of the organ, even now, give wings to -worship, when the anthem rises beneath this lofty vault, and dies away -in the profound depth of the nave, or spreads itself amid aisles and -columns, with multiplied reverberations and undulations of harmony; but -oh! what might not be its heavenly effect, were the choir and nave all -one, and filled with kneeling thousands, lifting up their voice with one -accord in the overwhelming common-prayer of the Anglican Church! A -friend of mine, who was once present, in Yorkminster, on a Sunday, -realized something very near what I strove to imagine. The congregation -was swelled by the presence of several regiments of soldiers, who -appeared to take part in the worship, and whose gay uniforms, as they -knelt on the mosaic floor, received a richer splendour from the tinted -lights that flowed down from lofty windows, where meek saints and mighty -princes seem to live again in the lustre of their portraiture. - -An early start next morning, a short railway trip, and then a -stage-coach drive of two miles, and then a walk through the fields, -brought me to S—— parsonage, before breakfast, where a kindly welcome -awaited me from my Malvern acquaintances. A day had been planned for me -by the kind lady of the parsonage, and though it threatened rain, she -laughed at the idea of abandoning it on that account. An American lady -would scarcely have thought of it, even in fair weather, as the -excursion involved not a little exercise of the foot. Off we went in a -pony-carriage to Ripon, where I had time for a hasty inspection of the -minster, lately made a cathedral. It is a severe specimen of Early -English, and affords much to interest the student; but very little to -make a story of, unless we adopt Camden’s explanation of St. Wilfrid’s -needle in the crypt. It is a narrow perforation of the masonry, through -which ladies were sometimes required to pass, when, as Fuller says, -“those who could not thread the needle pricked their own credit.” - -We went through the grounds of Studley Royal, enjoying a diversified -view of beautiful park scenery, till we came to the neighbourhood of -Fountains Abbey, and exchanged our drive for a walk. We passed through -woods, and by little lakes, and over rustic bridges, and came at last -into a walk richly embowered with trees, along a height, where the -foliage completely screened the view below. Our fair conductress -promised us a lunch at a little halting-place called Anne Boleyn’s Seat. -I did not tell her that I had foreknowledge of the trick she meant to -play upon me; but I sincerely wish that I had never heard of it, for my -own sake as well as hers. Arrived at the spot, we sat down to rest, when -suddenly the lady flung open a door, and before us was such a view as -can be seen nowhere else in the world. We were balconied, in a lofty -window, and below was the beautiful valley and meadow: at the extremity -of which, rise the ancient walls, chapel window, and tower of Fountains -Abbey—the most poetical ruin in existence. All Italy has nothing to -show, that can be compared with it for beauty, especially if we take -into account the extraordinary charms of the wooded steeps that surround -it, and of the green velvet mead, from which it lifts itself like the -creation of enchantment. Its architecture is vast and majestic in scale, -and the ivy has contrived to festoon and mantle its magnificence, in -such wise as to lend it a grace it never could have possessed even in -its first glory. There is a more sylvan charm about Tintern. Fountains -Abbey is the perfection of artificial beauty, for even its surrounding -nature is impressed with a look of long and complete subjugation to the -hand of consummate art. - -I assured our fair enchantress, that although I had heard of this -surprise before, her playfulness had not been lost on me. I had expected -to enjoy it only under the humdrum operation of an ordinary guide. She -had heightened the effect by her talismanic touch and artistic air, and -I was free to confess that the effect produced was such, that “the half -had not been told me.” A little streamlet runs through the meadow, like -a silver thread upon emerald; and nothing which a painter could wish is -wanting to make the scene a picture of delight. I could not but think of -the still waters, and the green pastures, and the glorious mansions of a -better world. - -The Abbey was Cistercian, as the fat valley in which it stands might -indicate, according to the rhyme:— - - “Bernard the vales, as Benedict the steeps, - But towering cities did Loyola love.” - -It was founded, in fact, in the time of St. Bernard, under the first -impulses communicated to Europe by his vast enthusiasm. But it is in -vain that we look for any traces of his asceticism, in the luxurious -splendour of every portion of this noble pile. Here you enter the lordly -refectory; you pass to the ample kitchen, and ascend to the long range -of dormitories. What prince on earth is better lodged? The chapter-house -is on the same scale of dignity; and the cloisters are a long -perspective of pillared arches, through which the eye can scarcely -penetrate to the end. But the church, with its elaborate chapels, of -which nearly half the pillars are standing in their gracefulness, -beggars description. Its floor is green turf, and its walls are hung -with living tapestry; but it seems still a vast cathedral, and the more -beautiful, for its heavenly vault, and its windows, opening in all their -rich variety of form, bright glimpses of wood and sky. Everything is in -keeping, and the whole is such an epitome of the monastic system as -suggests alike its glory and its shame. The excavations are still going -on, and like those of Pompeii, they are revealing the most minute and -tell-tale particulars of monastic life. One cannot altogether regret -that such establishments are of the past, and yet the experiment of -their reform should have been fairly tried, before destruction made it -forever impossible to restore them to noble and pious uses. - -Near the Abbey is a yew-tree of great antiquity, beneath which, -tradition says, the first colony of monks assembled, and planned their -future home. In a secluded spot, a little further on, I came to -Fountains Hall, a pleasant manorial residence. It was built in the time -of the first Stuart, and, I am sorry to add, of materials, quarried in -the old Abbey. Such being the case, I am glad it is not mine. Sacrilege -is so fatal a sin, that I hardly dared to take away a bit of moss from -the Abbey walls; and to remove a cubic inch of its masonry, was a -liberty from which I shrank, as a sort of irreverence to God. - -Adieu to Fountains—but the scene will never leave my mental vision, -which will retain as tenaciously, also, the recollection of those whose -company enabled me to enter into the spirit of the scene, as I never can -when alone. Reluctantly bidding them farewell, I went by rail to South -Shields, on a visit to an estimable M.P., whose acquaintance I had made -in London. He is a man of great natural refinement, and of very superior -accomplishments, having greatly distinguished himself in early life, at -Oxford, though his retiring disposition has kept him from the ambitious -dignities which he might easily have commanded. Though there are few, in -England, to whom I became more attached, I must add that it was neither -from political nor religious affinities. He is as much of a dissenter as -a churchman can well be, and as little of a John Bull as an Englishman -can well be; but it is my creed, that none but the most narrow-minded -mortals limit their society to those who share their own likes and -dislikes, and never has my contempt for Sallust’s rule of friendship -been more richly rewarded than in the relations which I formed with Mr. -I——. With his liberal feelings towards America, I was particularly -gratified; and it was pleasant indeed to listen to this estimable man, -as he generously eulogized several of my countrymen, whom he had made -his friends. Most attractive too was his unassuming piety. His Greek -Testament was his familiar companion, and he was sometimes betrayed into -scholarly criticisms of its text, which I could not always adopt, but -which I was forced to admire, as drawn from stores of classical -knowledge and accuracy. I felt it a great privilege to be his guest, and -fell asleep in my chamber, full of happy reflections on the pleasures of -the day, and lulled by the sounds of the sea, which breaks on the -boundaries of his demesne. The morning light came to my window over the -German Ocean, for the King of Denmark is next neighbour to my friend in -that direction. - -I was now among the collieries, but had no desire to know anything about -them. I saw the mouths of the doleful pits which descend to these human -burrows, and to think of the miserable population below, was enough! -There they live, and die, and are buried while they live, and are far -more wretched, I should imagine, than the servile class, in most cases, -among us. The amelioration of life in the collieries, is by no means -neglected however. England is alive to the spiritual and temporal -destitution of her poor, of every condition; and happy will it be for -us, when our national evils are as deeply felt as those of England are -by Englishmen; when they are as temperately and freely discussed, and as -boldly submitted to an enlightened spirit of progress and reform. - -With my estimable friend, I visited Durham, its cathedral and -University, and enjoyed great privileges in so doing, as the result of -his kindness. On our way, he pointed out the secluded and saintly -Jarrow, and the tower of Bernard Gilpin’s Church. In this neighbourhood -occur two names that startle an American: he comes to _Franklin_, and to -_Washington_, little villages which have imparted their names to -hundreds of places in America, by first giving them to two really great -men. With us, places are named from individuals; but in England, the -reverse is more frequently the case. - -“Stupendous”—is the epithet for the cathedral of Durham. It is the -poetry of the frigid zone of architecture, as Milan cathedral is of its -tropics. The first impressions, on entering, were instinctively those of -the patriarch—“how dreadful is this place—this is none other than the -House of God.” At York, I had said—‘this is the gate of heaven.’ Here -an overpowering solemnity brooded over every thought, and I less admired -than wondered. One thing was most pleasing: there is no screen, and the -eye ranges through nave and choir, unrestrained, to the altar itself to -which a bas-relief of the last supper, gives a fine effect. Under the -guidance of Canon Townsend, who had lately returned from his most -primitive visit to the Pope, we surveyed the entire cathedral and its -adjoining courts, all alike builded for everlasting, if the solidity and -grandeur of its masonry be any index of its design. We visited “the -Galilee,” and the tomb of the venerable Bede, the “nine altars,” at the -eastern end, and the tomb of St. Cuthbert. Also, the chapter-house, -hallowed by the names of Aidan and Finan, those apostles of the North, -who came forth from Iona to illuminate our Saxon ancestors. I pity the -man who claims no kin with their ancient faith and piety! They infused -into the Church of England many elements of its present character, and -Bernard Gilpin was their legitimate son, even more than Bede himself. - -In the library, we were shown, by the polite dignitary who was our -guide, many antiquarian and literary curiosities. The stole of St. -Cuthbert, taken from his coffin, and some needlework of the sister of -Alfred, were of the number, and divers manuscripts, on vellum, of great -beauty, and one the autograph of Bede! Some modern copes, of the time of -Charles First, were shown us, as having been worn in Divine Service, in -the cathedral, according to the rubric, till Warburton laid them aside. -We also visited the University, which now fills the old castle of -Durham. This castle was built by William the Conqueror, and was long the -residence of the Bishops, as Lords of the Palatinate. Its old Norman -chapel is very interesting, and the modern fittings are in good taste -throughout, and turn it to good account. In one of the prebendal houses, -we found the Bishop of Exeter, a prelate of great distinction, and -celebrated for making warm friends and bitter foes. Canon Townsend gave -us our lunch, at his own table, and warmly eulogized the American -Church, which he designs to visit. He also praised our country and its -achievements. His burning desire seems to be to unite all Christians, -once more, in one holy fellowship of faith and worship, and it was in -this spirit that he visited the Vatican, and exhorted the Pope to -repent. It was the last testimony to Pius Ninth, before he dared to -commit that damning sin against Christian charity, on the 8th of -December, 1854. In my opinion, Canon Townsend need not be ashamed of -having preached the Gospel at Rome also. - -I crossed the river Wear, and gained from its well-wooded bank, the best -view of the cathedral. It rises on the opposite bank, high over the -stream, like part of the rock on which it is built. It presents the -appearance of entire “unity with itself.” Massive and ponderous dignity -invests the whole pile, and with the advantage of its deep descent to -the river, I know not where to look for anything that seems at once so -fixed to the earth, and yet so aspiring in its gigantic stretch towards -heaven. The cathedral at Fribourg, in Switzerland, not only lacks its -grandeur, but is too far from the edge of the steep, on which it stands, -to derive much character from it. Durham, on the contrary, grows out of -the cliff itself, and it is hard to say where the natural architecture -terminates, and art begins. - -I heard the service, in the cathedral, and it was effectively performed. -From preference, I occupied the extremity of the nave, and enjoyed its -distant effect. The Episcopal throne, in this cathedral, is a great -curiosity. Had I not been told it was a throne, I should have said it -was a gallery, or orchestra. Its style is altogether curious, and -unique; but I should think his Lordship would prefer any place in the -cathedral, to such a strange eminence. I left Durham, with great regret -that I could not linger for a long time, amid its venerable and sacred -attractions. - -A good portion of the succeeding day was given to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, -its smutty old-town, and its spruce and showy new-town. Here is Norman -England on one hand, and England of the Reform-bill on the other. -Standing upon one of its lofty bridges, I surveyed the town, and the -river, and felt more pleased with what I saw than I had supposed it -possible for me to be with such a coal-hole. - -Out of the hole I climbed, however, to the height on which stands its -old castle, built by Robert Curthose, son of William the Conqueror. It -is a dingy tower, at best; but massive, and full of historic interest. -Its chapel, only a few yards square, and dimly lighted, is remarkable -for some of the finest specimens extant, of the Saxon arch. Its parts -are distinctly marked, as chancel, nave, sacristy, and the like; but it -is more like the chapel of an Inquisition, than of a royal castle. -Several rooms in the castle are filled with Roman relics, all found in -the neighbourhood of the town; and often, when I afterwards visited -Rome, and thought of this far distant place, did it give me new ideas of -her ancient power, to reflect upon her identity here and there, and upon -the skill in overcoming difficulties, which, in that barbarian day, made -her to be felt as really upon the Tyne, as upon the Tiber. I saw very -soon the same marks of Roman conquest, far away in Scotland, near Elgin, -and Inverness. - -And to Scotland I now made my way, without stopping. Flying through -Northumberland, I caught many glimpses of its scenery and antiquities, -about Warkworth and Alnwick. Far out at sea, I spied the lofty bulk of -Holy Island, or Lindisfarne, the Iona of England. I instinctively bared -my head to it. At length I sighted Berwick-upon-Tweed, the _Amen Corner_ -of England, where the Church ceases, and the Kirk begins. Anon, I was -over the Border. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII. - - - _The Lakes and the Lakers._ - - -As I am now detailing my “Impressions of England,” I must leave out my -Scottish chapters, for Scotland is far too rich in material to be -smuggled into the world under any cover except its own. After a most -interesting visit to this romantic land, I again saw England as I -approached the Cumberland mountains, at Ecclefechan, and in spite of my -delight in Caledonia, I somehow felt that it was home. I reached “Gretna -Green” from a direction the opposite of that which is the fashion for -runaways, and hence saw nothing of “the blacksmith;” but I was informed -that he duly posts himself at the station when the train approaches from -the other direction, and very frequently finds customers. It is not now -as in the days of posting; and if a brace of lovers can make sure of a -train in advance of pursuers, they are quite safe. The next train may -bring the frantic friends and parents; but the wedding is already -performed, according to the barbarous law of North Britain. It has been -remarked as something singular, if not disgraceful, that several who -have risen to be Lord-Chancellors of the southern kingdom, were, in -early life, married in this way. After a moment’s pause at the Gretna -station, we were whirled across the Sark, with a glimpse of the Solway, -and soon I was in “merrie Carlisle.” I entered it, thanks be to Bishop -Percy, with special thoughts of “Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and -William of Cloudeslee.” The poetry of the town is, in fact, concentrated -in that ballad of ballads. As a border town, it has always been subject -to those fearful scenes and tragedies, which only war creates: and its -history is a romance, from the days of the Conquest to those of the -Pretender, whose flag once waved on its walls. It is charmingly -situated, and well watered by its three rivers; but its castle and its -cathedral are its chief objects of interest, and offer little that can -be described with effect, after a review of more striking specimens of -their kind. Among the tombs in the latter, is that of Archdeacon Paley, -the _moralist_, who “could not afford to keep a conscience.” I did not -regard it with any great emotion. The adjacent Deanery, at one time -inhabited by Bishop Percy, was more interesting to me, for whatever he -may have been as a bishop, I cannot doubt that his taste and industry in -literature have produced a vast result in the poetry and letters of his -native tongue. I have often amused myself, not only with his “ballads” -themselves, but with an effort to trace their immediate and remote -effects on the taste, and even upon the genius of England. They are very -striking, and prove what may be the lasting results of a very humble -sort of literary enterprise, when it is founded on “truths that wake to -perish never.” - -I was in the region of the Lakes, and felt upon me already the powerful -influences which its great poets have left it for an heritage forever. -The noble range of the Cumberlands seemed to lift their monumental -heads, in memory of Southey and Wordsworth. I went to Kendal, and -sighted the castle where Katherine Parr was born, but was glad to take -the earliest train to Bowness. Welcome was the sight of Windermere, -brightly reflecting the evening sky, and encircled by an army of -mountains, lifting their bristling pikes as if to defend it, like a -virgin sister in her loveliness. Who can forget Dr. Arnold’s -enthusiastic return to this dear spot, from the Continent: his just -comparison of its charms with those of foreign scenes, and his close -noting of the very minutes that lingered as he hasted to his home at Fox -How? To me, there is all the heart of poetry in his honest effusion of -genuine English feeling. “I see the Old Man and the Langdale Pikes, -rising behind the nearer hills so beautifully! We open on Windermere, -and vain it is to talk of any earthly beauty ever equalling this -country, in my eyes. No Mola di Gaeta, no Valley of the Velino, no -Salerno or Vietri can rival, to me, this Vale of Windermere, and of the -Rotha. Here it lies in the perfection of its beauty, the deep shadows on -the unruffled water; and mingling with every form, and sound, and -fragrance, comes the full thought of domestic affections, and of -national and of Christian: here is our own house and home: here are our -own country’s laws and language: and here is our English Church!” Good! -glorious! every word. I can feel it all, and the last words more than he -did. It is to the Church that England owes all the rest, and yet that -_palladium_ (I hate the word) of England’s holiest, and dearest, and -best peculiarities, he would fain have Germanized! I believe, in my -heart, he was better than his theories, and would have been the first to -shrink from his own dreams of reform, had he lived to see them coming -into shape as realities. I cannot but follow his speaking -memoranda:—“Arrived at Bowness, 8.20; left at 8.31; passing Ragrigg -Gate, 8.37; over Troutbeck Bridge, 8.51; here is Ecclerigg, 8.58; and -here Lowood Inn, 9.04 and 30 seconds!” No fast man, at the Derby, ever -held his watch more breathlessly; he was speeding home, and there he was -in twenty minutes more, at his own “mended gate,” wife and darlings all -round papa, and so ends his journal! Oh, what so enviable as a home, -just here? My own is far away—and I stop at Lowood Inn, grateful for -such inns as England only affords, and proposing to spend such a Sunday -as England only hallows. I am not forgetful of my own dear land; I love -her Hudson, as I can never love even an English lake; but the janglings -of a Sunday in America, the unutterable wretchedness of perpetuated -quarrels among Christians, and all the sadness of religious disunion, in -its last stage of social disorganization, take away my sense of repose, -when I survey an American landscape, and the spires of our villages; and -who can measure the indifference, the atheism, and the godless contempt -for truth which all this breeds? Good Lord! when shall this plague of -locusts disappear from our sky? When shall all Christians who love -Christ in truth and soberness, agree to love one another? - -At Lowood Inn I spent such a Sunday, as I had promised myself, at St. -Asaph. A morning and evening walk, by the lake, was its morning and -evening charm, and calm, sweet enjoyment of the service was its -substantial blessing. Here, Southey’s words came forcibly to mind, as I -recalled the common worship, in which my beloved friends, at home, were -uniting with me; the Prayer-book its blessed telegraph! - - “Oh, hold it holy! it will be a bond - Of love and brotherhood, when all beside - Hath been dissolved; and though wide ocean roll - Between the children of _one_ fatherland, - This shall be their communion: they shall send, - Linked in one sacred feeling, at one hour, - In the same language, the same prayer to heaven, - And each remembering each in piety, - Pray for the other’s welfare.” - -Early on Monday morning, in a fairy-like little steamer, I made a -circuit of the lake, enjoying fine weather, and delightful views. The -clouds took the shape of everything beautiful during the day, now -hanging over the “Pikes,” like legions of angels, and now building -themselves up into domes and cathedrals, upon the summits of the -everlasting hills. As for the lake itself, it is something between Lake -George and Cayuga Lake: its scenery in some parts, even finer than the -finest of the one, and its tamer parts, almost always equal to the best -of the other. Lake George, however, in its exceeding wildness, has its -own special charm for me; and Windermere is too artificially beautiful, -on the whole, to rival it. Towards noon, I went, by coach, to Grassmere, -passing through Ambleside, and by the late residence of Wordsworth, and -enjoying the views of Rydalmere, and Knab Scaur, and then of Grassmere -itself, with its sweet church, deep in the vale. The inn at Grassmere is -well placed, on a slight ascent from the valley, and provides a -toothsome repast for the tourist. I went on horse-back, over hill and -dale, to “Dungeon Ghyll,” a cataract well known to readers of -Wordsworth, but less interesting in itself, though curious as well as -pretty, than the scenery through which one passes to get there. The -mountain ranges, and peaks, as they come into sight, and seem to shift -their positions, are sufficient, I should think, to make the region ever -new in its peculiar attractions, especially when one takes into account -the endless variety imparted to such scenes by the different seasons, -hours of the day, states of the atmosphere, and conditions of sky and -clouds. Wise poets were these Lakers! And how “Kit North” must have -revelled in these palaces of nature! As I slowly returned, I caught my -last glimpse of Windermere, and then saw the vale of Grassmere, in its -evening beauty. Arrived at the churchyard, I sought the grave of -Wordsworth. A plain grave, and his name merely. The river rushing by -lulls his repose. A carriage drove up, and seeing a female mourner -approach, attended by a servant, or waiting-maid, I withdrew, and -pretended to be otherwise engaged. The lady scattered flowers on the -grave of the poet, and stood there awhile, musing. It was his widow; and -when she had left the sacred spot, I returned, and admired the fragrant -and beautiful tokens of her affection, which, as I learned, she every -day renews. I gathered some wild flowers, growing by the grave, and -resolved to bear them to Keswick, and leave them on the grave of -Southey. This pilgrimage I was determined to make, on foot; and having -arranged for my luggage to be sent to a convenient point, I started -accordingly, late in the afternoon, with a walk of twelve miles before -me; to do which, I gave myself three hours for the walking, and one for -resting and idling. I expected to reach Keswick by early moonlight, for -the moon was new, and the days long. Mine host thought it too late for a -start, after a fatiguing day; but I had practised in Scotland, and knew -my strength, and the inspiration of the spot was such that I felt no -weariness. On the contrary, it is impossible to describe the flow of -spirits with which I began and ended this walk. Passing Helm Crag, I -decided that the “old woman” on the top, is far more like a millenial -group, in colossal sculpture, for it greatly resembles a lion with a -lamb in its embrace. At every step, Wordsworth and Southey revive in -memory; every pebble seems to have attracted their love, and taken its -place in their poetry. After a long, but gradual ascent, we reach the -cairn that covers King Dunmail’s bones, and looking back at the charming -view, say farewell to Grassmere. In the distance, ahead, what looms up? -The guide-book says Skiddaw. There once lived Southey; there now he -sleeps. As I left this neighbourhood, I observed to my surprise, another -group on the mountain, in all respects like the “old woman,” only turned -the other way. Both are formed by loose rocks on the height of the -mountain; but I have seen no mention of this one. And now my way lay -along the base of the “mighty Helvellyn.” The road was easy to the foot, -and innumerable are its charms. I came to the lovely Thirlmere, or -Leatheswater: the views of the surrounding crags, and of the water -itself, wearing a more beautiful aspect, for the hour and the departing -daylight. Blue-bells were everywhere growing by the road, in handfulls. -I stopped to examine a stone which seems to record the death of a -Quaker’s favourite horse. A carriage came along, which proved to be full -of cockney tourists. One of them descended and read, as -follows:—“Thirtieth of ninth month, 1843; - - “Fallen from ’is fellow’s side, - The steed beneath (h)is lying; - (H)in ’arness ’ere ’e died, - ’Is (h)only fault was dying.” - -The pathos with which these words were uttered was truly Pickwickian, -and the step from the sublime to the ridiculous was so effectually taken -by my feelings, that for a long way beyond, Helvellyn re-echoed to my -laughter. Passing Thirlmere, the sweet vale of St. John opened a -bewitching prospect, and I loved it for its name. Leaving it on my -right, I then turned toward Keswick, and as the last light of day -disappeared, there, before me, lay Derwentwater, the new moon shedding a -tremulous light on its bosom. This, then, was Southey’s own Keswick, and -Skiddaw rose over head! I slept soundly and sweetly at the “Royal Oak.” - -In the morning, I took a barge, and was rowed round the lake, which did -not disappoint me. One of the men had been a servant of Southey’s, and -he told me many anecdotes of his master. “Yonder, it seems to me, I can -see him now,” said the fellow, “walking with a book in his hand.” He -described him as good to the poor, and said, “he often gave five -shillings, at a time, to my mother.” In wet weather he still took the -air, and walked well on clogs. I was much charmed with the islets of the -lake, and the singular traditions which invest them all with so much -interest. The romantic stories of the unfortunate family of -Derwentwater, whose earls were attainted for their share in the -Pretender’s rebellion, are partly connected with one of these islands, -and the lake itself seems made for a scene of romance. Windermere is not -to be compared with it. I was rowed to Lodore, and saw “how the water -comes down.” Sometimes ’tis a mere burlesque of the poem; but I saw it -in full force, and entirely justifying all the participles which the -genius of Southey has contrived to set going, like a cataract, out of -the fountain of his brain. After this, I swam in the lake, tempted to do -so by the double attraction of its pellucid waters, and its Castalian -associations. - -I visited Southey’s grave, in Crosthwaite churchyard. ’Twas solemn to -see the grass growing, and its tall spears shaking in the breeze, over -the head of that fine genius, and the heart of that good and faithful -man. In the church, where he so often prayed, a superb statue of the -poet lies, at full length, on an altar-tomb. I placed in the marble hand -the flowers I had brought from the grave of Wordsworth, a tribute to -their friendship, and a token of my homage for both. Great and good men; -they were the “lucida sidera” of English literature, in a dark and evil -time and now that their sweet influence has triumphed over the clouds -and vapours which obscured their first rising, how calmly they shine, in -heaven, and brighten the scenes they have left behind! - -Greta Hall, the poet’s late residence, stands a little back from the -road, in the shadow of Skiddaw. I paid a visit to a daughter of the -bard, who loves to linger near her father’s grave; and it was delightful -to observe the simplicity with which she entered into the enthusiasm of -a pilgrim to that shrine of her affections. The aged Mrs. Lovel, whose -name is familiar to the readers of Coleridge, and his contemporaries, -also allowed me to be presented to her. It was affecting to see a group -of Southey’s lovely little grand-children with her, in mourning for a -mother. They are richer in the heritage of his name and character than -if they were the heirs of the Derwentwaters, and restored to all their -honours and estates. - -By coach to Penrith, by the vale of St. John, and Huttonmoor. On the -moor, I saw a cottage, with an inscription too deep for me, of which my -reader shall have the benefit. It was this:— - - “I. W. - This building’s age, these letters show, - Though many gaze, yet few will know. - MD.CCXIX.” - -A Waltonian puzzle in its quaintness, not to speak of the initials! -Driving by Graystoke, in which is an old town-cross, we had a sight of -its church and castle. But two odd-looking farm-houses, which we passed, -presenting at a distance the appearance of forts, surprised me more, by -their American names, “Mount Putnam,” and “Bunker-hill.” They were built -and named soon after the battle: and the whip laughed as he slyly -surmised, that the Duke of Norfolk, to whom they belong, “must have been -afraid the ’Mericans were coming over.” At Penrith, I visited the -extraordinary grave in the churchyard, called the _Giant’s_. Its history -is lost in the obscure of antiquity; but one _Owen_ is said to lie -there, at full length, the head and footstones being fifteen feet apart. -The stones are tall needles, of curious form, and covered with Runic -carvings and unintelligible words. Not far from Penrith, are some -ancient caverns, marked by traces of gigantic inhabitants, such as -iron-gratings, and other relics worthy of the habitation of Giant -Despair. - -Next morning, we were favoured with a brilliant sky and cool breeze, and -I took the top of the coach for a drive across the country, through -Westmoreland, into Yorkshire. A sweet odour of hay-making filled the air -as we started; and soon we had fine views of Brougham-hall, and castle, -with a small adjoining park. A more interesting object to me was a small -column, by the roadside, celebrated by Wordsworth, called the Countess -of Pembroke’s Pillar. It was erected in the evil days of Cromwell, not -to celebrate a battle, or a crime, but as a monument of love. On that -spot, in her better days, the Lady Anne Clifford had parted, for the -last time, with her beloved mother, the Countess Dowager of Pembroke, -and she therefore caused this stone to be set as a memorial, and -inscribed accordingly. But she did yet more, for hard by is a stone -table, on which the anniversary of that parting is annually celebrated -by a dole of bread to the poor of the parish of Brougham, to pay for -which she left the annual sum of four pounds to the church forever. This -is giving a _stone_ to those who ask _bread_, in an orthodox way. The -inscription ends with _Laus Deo_; and my heart responded in the manner -which Wordsworth suggests. “Many a stranger,” he says, “though no clerk, -has responded Amen, as he passed by.” Our drive continued a pleasant one -till we came to Appleby, an interesting old town, through which runs the -river Eden. In its church are monuments of the Lady Anne Clifford and -her mother. At Brough, we came to an old castle, erected before the -Conquest. Its church has a pulpit, hewn of a single stone; and they tell -a good story of its bells. A worthy drover of the adjoining moors, once -brought a fine lot of cattle to market, promising to make them bellow -all together, and to be heard from Brough to Appleby. Accordingly with -the money they sold for, he gave the parish a peal of bells, which -constantly fulfils his vow. He deserves to be imitated by richer men. At -Brough the coach left me, and I took a post-chaise over the dreary -region of Stainmuir; dreary, just then, but not so in the -sporting-season, when the moor is alive with hunters and fowlers. At -Bowes, again, emerging from the moorlands, we came to the remains of a -castle, and to the less interesting relics of a school, which had -disappeared under the influence of a general conviction, that it was the -original “Dotheboys Hall.” A dull place is Bowes; but striking over a -rugged country, northward, I came soon into the charming valley of the -Tees, and so arrived at the secluded church and parsonage of Romaldkirk, -on a visit to a clergyman, who bearing my maternal name, and deriving -from the same lineage, in times long past, yet claimed me as a relative, -and welcomed me as a brother. I found a missionary from India, -addressing a few of his parishioners, in an adjoining school-house, and -there I first saw my hospitable friend, and joined with him in the -solemnities of a missionary meeting, among a few of the neighbouring -peasantry. With this estimable clergyman, and his family, I tarried till -the third day, enjoying greatly their attentive hospitalities, and -trying to catch trout in the Tees. The very sound of this rushing river -recalled the story of Rokeby, and amid its overhanging foliage, I almost -fancied I could see skulking the pirate-figure of Bertram Risingham. - -I was not allowed to leave this happy roof unattended. The eldest son of -the family, a young Cantab, took me more than twenty miles, to Richmond, -through a most romantic country, allowing me to visit the ruins, near -Rokeby, and to stop at many interesting spots. We journeyed through -Barnard Castle, and by Egglestone Abbey, and met with several adventures -in our “search of the picturesque,” but at last emerged into the -surprising scenery of Richmond, which I found beautiful beyond all that -its name implies, and not unworthy of sharing it with its southern -namesake, on the Thames. It is the older of the two, and is remarkable -for something more than beauty. It has a touch of grandeur about it, and -the ruins of its old historic castle, on the banks of the Swale, full of -traditions of feudal sovereignty, and still massive and venerable in -appearance, give an imposing air of majesty to the town. The aspect of -the valley of the Swale is almost American, in its wildness, in many -parts, and I keenly relished even my railway journey through a region so -inviting to delay. I made my way to Leeds, where, amid smoke, and much -that is disagreeable, stands the interesting Church of St. Mary’s, -lately renewed and beautified by its faithful vicar, Dr. Hook. I had -barely time to visit this sacred place, and contenting myself with -having sighted Kirkstall Abbey, in the vale of Aire, I continued my -journey to my first English home, in Warwickshire. The glimpses of -Derbyshire scenery which I enjoyed, in my rapid journey, were full of -beauty: and the mishap of losing a trunk, gave me the opportunity of -putting to the test the fidelity of the English railway system. As soon -as I discovered that some blunder had been committed, I informed the -guard, and at the first station, telegraphic messages were despatched, -and in a short time my trunk followed me to the parsonage, where I -passed the Sunday with my friend. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - - - _Cowper—Greenwich._ - - -More than once have I betrayed, in the course of my narrative, a strong -affection for the name and memory of Cowper. To his poetry and letters, -I was introduced in early childhood, by the admiring terms in which a -beloved parent often quoted and criticised them; and no subsequent -familiarity with them has, in the least, impaired my relish for their -peculiar charms. I regard him as the regenerator of English poetry, and -as the morning-star of all that truly illustrates the nineteenth -century. A gentle but powerful satirist of the evils of his own times, -he was a noble agent in the hand of God, for removing them, and making -way for a great restoration. Without dreaming of his mission, he was a -prime mover in the great action which has thrown off the lethargy of -Hanoverianism, and awakened the Church of England to world-wide -enterprises of good; and though the injudicious counsels of good John -Newton gave a turn to his piety, which may well be deplored in its -consequences upon himself, it is ground for rejoicing that the -influences of the Church upon his own good taste, were strong enough to -rescue his contributions to literature from the degrading effects of -religious enthusiasm. If any one will take the trouble to compare “the -Task” with such a production as Pollok’s “Course of time,” he will be -struck with the force of my remark, for there the same enthusiasm -exhibits itself as developed by sectarianism. I was surprised to find -how many places in England were fraught with recollections of this -retired and sedentary poet. A distant view of St. Alban’s, the banks of -the Ouse, the churchyard of St. Margaret’s, and the school-room, at -Westminster, the gardens of the Temple, and the little village of St. -Neot’s all recalled him to mind, in his various moods, of suffering and -dejection. Even the ruins of Netley Abbey revived his memory, for there -he seems to have been filled with novel emotions, as an unwonted -tourist, with whom romantic scenes were far from familiar. The opposite -pole of poetic association became electric in Cheapside, where so many -John Gilpins still keep shop, if they do not “ride abroad.” But I -frequently passed, on the railway, a village in Hertfordshire, which is -invested with memories of a more elevated and affecting character. It -was not only the birth-place of the poet, (as well as of Bishop Ken,) -but its church-tower is that from which he heard the bell tolled on the -burial-day of his mother. Its parsonage was the scene of all those -maternal tendernesses, which he has so touchingly celebrated; and who -that has shared the love of a Christian mother, can fail to reverence -the bard, who has so inimitably enshrined, in poetry, the best and -holiest instincts of the human heart, as exhibited in the mutual loves -of the mother and her son? I could not leave England without first -paying a pilgrimage to those scenes of his maturer life, which have -become classic from their frequent mention in his poems. - -As I was taking my ticket for a second-class passage to the nearest -point on the railway to Olney, I happened to meet a gentleman who had -just bought his, and with whom I had the pleasure of some acquaintance. -Knowing him to be connected, by marriage and position, with some of the -most aristocratic families in the kingdom, I very naturally said to -him—“I’m going the same way with you, but shall lose the pleasure of -your company, for I’ve only a second-class ticket.” I was amused with -his answer:—“Yes, for I’ve only a _third_-class ticket.” He briefly -explained that he was forced to economize, and that, although he did not -like it, the inconvenience of a seat among a low-class of people, for a -short time, was not so intolerable as a collapsed purse, “especially” he -added, “as I am thus enabled to travel in the first-class carriages when -I travel with my wife.” Such is the independence as to action, and the -freedom as to confession of economy, which characterize a well-bred man, -whose position in society is settled; and I could not but think how -snobbish, in the contrast, is the conduct of many of my own countrymen, -who, if they ever use prudence, in their expenses, are afraid to have it -known. An aristocracy of money is not only contemptible in itself, but -it curses a land with a universal shame of seeming prudent. It makes the -dollared upstart fancy himself a gentleman, while the true gentleman is -degraded in his own eyes, as well as in the estimation of the vulgar, by -the fact, that his house is small, his furniture plain, and his table -frugal. Hence so much _upholstery_ in America; so much hotel-life; and -such a contempt for quiet respectability. - -This anecdote is not out of place in a chapter devoted to Cowper. The -poet was a man of gentle blood, and, in every sense of the word, a -gentleman. Many an English nobleman is vastly inferior to him in point -of extraction. He was descended from the blood-royal of Henry Third, and -in divers ways was allied to the old aristocracy of England. He used to -be visited at Olney, by persons of quality, in their chariots; and -titled ladies were glad to accept his hospitalities. But his home at -Olney, where he lived for years, was one of the humblest in the place, -and even his darling residence, at Weston, was such a dwelling as most -country-parsons would consider barely comfortable. Now, I do not mean to -say that John Bull prefers such an establishment for a gentlemen’s -habitation; but I do mean that nobody in England would be so insane as -to think less of a gentleman, for living thus humbly, especially if he -lived so from principle. - -As I came to Newport-Pagnel, a respectable elderly person drove by, in -an open carriage, whom the whip pointed out to me as Mr. Bull; the son -of Cowper’s old friend, whom he delighted to call his dear _Taurus_. -Having a few minutes to spare in the place, and a proper introduction, I -called at his house, and was glad to be shown a portrait of the -venerable personage himself—the “smoke-inhaling Bull” of the Letters. A -lady of the family politely gave me all needed directions, but assured -me I should be greatly disappointed in Olney, where “there was nothing -to see but old houses, and a general aspect of decay.” I said—‘Yes, but -the house is there—and the summer-house—and the spire—and the -bridge?’ I was answered that these were yet remaining, though somewhat -the worse for wear and weather; and so, having succeeded in hiring a -horse, off I went, alone. As I approached the neighbourhood of Olney, -the first truly _Cowperish_ sight that struck me—and I had never seen -such a sight before in my life—was a living illustration of his -lines:— - - “Yon cottager that weaves at her own door, - Pillow and bobbins, all her little store!” - -She little knew how much pleasure the sight of her gave to a passing -stranger, with whom her art had been rendered poetically beautiful, by -the charms of Cowper’s verse. This is, in fact, the secret of his spell -as a poet, the power of investing even homely things, in real life, with -a certain fascinating attractiveness. He avoids the romantic and the -poetical, in choosing his themes; but he elevates what is common to a -dignity and beauty unknown before. He is the most English of English -bards, and I love him for teaching me to see a something even in the -English poor, which makes them, to me, vastly more interesting than the -romantic peasantry of Italy. True, the latter tread the vintage, and the -other only stack the corn; but the English cottage has the Bible in it, -and its children learn the Ten Commandments, and also learn that -“cleanliness is next to godliness;” while in Italy, among fleas and -other vermin, the idle parents sit lazily in the sun, and the children -run after the traveller’s coach-wheel, lying while they beg, and showing -by their religious vocabulary, that Bacchus and Maria are confounded in -their imagination as saints of the same calendar. - -At length I saw the spire of Olney, and soon I crossed the bridge, over -whose “wearisome, but needful length,” used to come the news from -London, to solace Cowper’s winter evenings. I was not long in finding -the poet’s most unpoetical home, now occupied by a petty shop-keeper, -who has turned his parlour into a stall. Here he lived, however, and -here he sang: here, motherly Mrs. Unwin made tea for him, and Lady -Austen gave him “the sofa” for his “Task.” Under these stairs once -lodged Puss, Tiney, and Bess; those happy hares which, alone of their -kind, have had a _local habitation_, and will always have _a name_. In -the garden, I saw where the cucumber-vine used to grow, and where Puss -used to ruminate beneath its leaves, like Jonah under his gourd. An -apple-tree was pointed out to me as “set by Mr. Cowper’s own hands.” The -garden has been pieced off, and to see the “summer-house,” I was forced -to enter, by a neighbour’s leave, another enclosure. Here is the little -nestling-place of Cowper’s poesy—the retreat where his Egeria came to -him. In the fence, is still the wicket he made, to let him into the -parsonage-grounds, when Newton was his confessor. ‘Here, then,’ I said, -‘one may fancy the lily and the rose, growing in rivalry; and another -rose _just washed in a shower_; and the _sound of the church-going -bell_, and a thousand other minute matters in themselves, all taking -their place in the poetic magazine of Cowper, and so coming into verse, -through his brain, as the mulberry leaf becomes silk, by another process -of spinning.’ It was a small field for such a harvest, and yet “the -Task” grew here. - -And now, another mile brought me to the more agreeable Weston-Underwood, -the resort of all his walking days at Olney, and the dear retreat of his -later life; the dearer, because bestowed by the lovely Lady Hesketh. -This is, indeed, a residence worthy of a poet, and though all who once -rendered it so charming to Cowper have passed away, I was agreeably -surprised to find no important feature changed. A painful identity -belongs to it: you recognize, at every step, the fidelity of the poet’s -descriptive powers, and it seems impossible that he who has made the -scene part of himself, has been for half a century in his grave, while -all this survives. You enter the desolate park of the Throckmortons, and -there is “the alcove,” with its commanding view, so dear to the poet’s -eye, and Olney spire in the distance. You pass into “the Wilderness,” -now a wilderness indeed, for it is neglected and overgrown. Here are a -couple of urns, now green with moss, and lovingly clasped by ivy, but -each marked with familiar names, and graced by Cowper’s playful verse. -The one adorns the grave of “Neptune,” Sir John Throckmorton’s pointer; -the other is the monument of “Fop,” his lady’s favourite spaniel. I -hailed this memorial of “Lady Frog’s” pet; but was far more moved to -descry, before long, at the end of a flowery alley, the antique bust of -Homer, which Cowper so greatly valued, and to which he gave a Greek -inscription, which Hayley was proud to do into English:— - - “The sculptor? Nameless though once dear to fame; - But this man bears an everlasting name.” - -Here, then, that “stricken deer that left the herd,” was led to a sweet -covert at last, and went in and out, and found pasture, under the -guidance of one “who had himself been hurt by the archers.” With what -enchantment these haunts of hallowed genius inspired me! And yet never -felt I so melancholy before. The utter loneliness of the scene; the fact -that they who had bestowed its charm, were all, long ago, dead; and then -that painful reality—everything else there, as it should be; the Task, -no poem, but a verity, and before my eyes; but Cowper, Hayley, Austen, -Hesketh, all gone forever; these thoughts were oppressive. I sat down, -and almost wept, as I repeated the names of those who were so “lovely -and pleasant in their lives,” and who now are undivided in death! It was -an hour of deeper feeling than I had realized before, at any shrine of -departed genius, in England. - -I went to the house, and rejoiced in the comfort it must have afforded -Cowper, in his latter days. It is neat and comfortable, and the village -is a pretty one, trim and thrifty in its look, and sufficiently -poetical. It has “an air of snug concealment,” which must have been most -congenial to its gifted inhabitant, and it was not unsuited to his -fondness for receiving his friends as guests. I went into the poet’s -chamber, and also into that which Lady Hesketh used to occupy. In the -former, there is a sad autograph of the poet, in lead-pencil, behind a -window-shutter. The window had been walled up, and only lately -re-opened, when the pencilling was found. It is one of the poet’s last -performances—an adieu to Weston, written there, as he left it -forever:— - - “Farewell dear scenes forever closed to me, - O for what sorrows must I now exchange ye!” - -No wonder he lamented a departure from such a retreat, into nearer -proximity to the bad world. Walking in the park, beneath its avenue of -ancient limes, I envied the nibbling flocks that were straying about, -and the cattle that were reclining in their shade. So peaceful! If life -were given us for ignoble devotion to self, I know of nothing within -reach of a clergyman’s humble fortune to which I should more ardently -aspire, than such an abode as Weston, where a golden mean between what -is common and what is poetical in scenery, and situation, still offers -every inducement to a man of taste to settle down, and live contentedly; -or, like Walton, “to serve God, and go a fishing.” - -On returning to London, I was rejoiced to meet an old and intimate -friend, from America, whose genius has given him distinction, at home -and abroad—Mr. Huntington, the artist. With him I, once more, visited -the Crystal Palace, and enjoyed the benefit of his criticisms in -surveying the works of art, there displayed. We were interested to -observe a constant group of admiring spectators hanging around the Greek -Slave, of our countryman, Mr. Powers. Other nude figures, although many -of them were far better calculated to appeal to coarse curiosity, were -comparatively neglected, so that we could not but consider the amount of -interest which this work secured, a proof of something superior, in its -character. I own that, for my own part, I do not like it. The subject is -a sensual one, and does not appeal to any lofty sentiment. Beauty in -chains, and exposed in the shambles, is a loathesome idea, at best. - -I went with Mr. Huntington to the rooms of the British Institution, in -Pall-Mall, where is a fine collection of paintings, by British and -foreign masters. It was a great advantage to me to be prepared by the -hints of so eminent an artist, for my continental tour, and often, in -the galleries of Italy, I had occasion to thank my friend for enabling -me to appreciate many things which would, otherwise, have escaped me. At -the exhibition of water-coloured paintings, I was astonished, by the -rich collection, and the exceeding beauty of many of the pictures. The -fruit, and flower pieces, of Hunt, were almost miracles. He paints a -bird’s nest, with the eggs, and every straw, so perfect, that the bird -would infallibly attempt to sit in it, and he contrives to bestow it in -a hedge of hawthorn, so green and white, and so entirely natural, that -you would not think of taking the nest, without making up your mind to -be sorely scratched. It would make May-morning of a winter-day, to have -a few such paintings to look at, and no one who loves nature could ever -be tired of them. - -The weather was as hot, at this time, in London, as it is ordinarily, at -the same season, in Baltimore or New-York. It was the middle of August, -and the moon being near the full, the nights were very beautiful; and I -observed it the more, because neither sun nor moon have much credit for -making London attractive. Late at night, I could see the Wellington -statue almost as distinctly from the Marble arch, as at Hyde-park -corner, and the scenery of the Park, by moonlight, was enchanting. When -shall we have such parks in all our large towns? - -Next day, with Huntington, and Gray, both of our National Academy, I -went out to Greenwich Hospital, to survey the place, and to enjoy a -parting white-bait dinner. We went down in a steamer, enjoying the -excursion the more for our comparisons of all we saw with the Bay of -New-York, and the Hudson. It was pleasant, now and then, to discern an -American vessel, and to know her at once, by her graceful form, amid a -forest of masts. - -Greenwich is the great _outside_ park of London, the resort of thousands -of her pleasure-seekers, of the humble class. The Royal Observatory -stands on a commanding eminence, and the slope of its hill towards the -river, is the favourite sporting place of mammas and children. As a -prime meridian, however, I always regret that it is not deposed, by the -religion of England, which ought to take the lead in making Jerusalem -the starting point for all Christian reckonings. The wings of the -morning should rise every day, from the Holy Sepulchre, and there -evening should come down to brood, with everything to make it the first, -and the last place, in the minds and hearts of a ransomed world. - -Greenwich Hospital is, indeed, a palace of the poor. On the terrace, -between its wings, one cannot but be impressed with a sense of the -greatness of a nation which thus lodges the humblest of its worn-out -defenders. The old pensioners, hobbling about, in their blue uniforms, -and cocked-hats, move your profound respect. Their wounds, and battered -visages, seem to speak of storm and shipwreck, and of shell and -broadsides, in every climate under heaven. They can tell wonderful -things of Nelson and of Collingwood; and all seem to address you, like -Burns’ hero, with the tale, - - “How they served out their trade - When the Moro low was laid, - At the sound of the drum.” - -In “the Painted Hall,” which is full of pictures of naval battles, one -sees how terribly their pensions have been earned. There, too, is shown -the coat worn by Nelson, when he fell, and it is stained with his blood. -It was a comfort to turn from this temple of the Maritime Mars, to that -of the Prince of Peace. The old sailors have a superb chapel, -elaborately adorned, and furnished with an altar-piece, by West, “the -shipwreck of St. Paul.” From a little book which I picked up in Paris, -written by a Frenchman, and a Romanist, I gather that the service, in -such places, in England, is very impressive, and that the contrast, in -France, is not in favour of the Romish religion. He describes the -chaunting, and apparent devotion of the soldiers, as very striking; and -he seems to have been especially struck with their responses to the Ten -Commandments. He adds—“all that would make us laugh in France:” and he -goes on to say—“if it be answered that our soldiers are at liberty to -go to mass, I reply, that’s true; but for all that, a young conscript, -religiously educated at home, would be ridiculed so unsparingly for -continuing in his pious habits, that he could not long resist the bad -examples of his comrades.” At Greenwich, the Bible and Prayer-book are -the constant companions of many an old salt; and bad as all armies and -navies must be, I could not but think that there is a great advantage, -in the _morale_, of Chelsea and Greenwich, as compared with the -Invalides. - -We adjourned to our _White-bait_—a fish, according to the same French -authority, most delicate and delicious, and to be eaten only at -Greenwich, because it is necessary to transfer them, instantly, from the -water to the frying-pan, and thence to the plate, and because they are -fished only in the Thames. I fully agree with Monsieur, as to the -attractions of the _plat_, especially when enjoyed in good company. The -dinner ended, my friends accompanied me to the Southwark station, at -London, where I had all things in readiness for a start: and bidding -them a warm farewell, I reached Dover in a few hours, and soon embarked -for Ostend. The sea was calm, and heaving in long, broad, glittering -swells; and as the chalky cliffs of Dover, gleaming in the cloudless -moonlight, gradually sank in the distance, I felt that no native Briton -ever waved a more affectionate salute to the bright isle, than that with -which I said _good-night_ to Albion. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV. - - - _Return—Conclusion._ - - -It was four months later than the incidents of my last chapter, when -after a tour on the Continent, I found myself safely landed at Dover, in -the gray dawn of a winter’s morning. I had left Paris, in all the -frightful confusion consequent upon the _coup d’état_ of Louis Napoleon. -In touching, once more, the free and happy soil of England, if I could -not say—“This is my own, my native land,” I could yet feel that it was -the sacred land of my religion, of my parentage, and of my mother -tongue. I was, once more, at home, and ceased to feel myself a -foreigner, as I had done in France and Italy. How good and honest, -sounded again in my ears, the language of Englishmen! As “bearer of -despatches” from Paris, to our ambassador at London, I was landed with -the advantage of precedence, and very rapidly passed through the -custom-house. The state of things in France, and the feverish anxiety, -in England, to learn the changes of every hour, invested my trifling -diplomatic dignity with a momentary importance, strikingly diverse from -its insignificance at other times: and I was amused to see how much -curiosity was felt by the officials as to the mighty communications -which might be going up to London in my portmanteau. Even an old salt, -as I stepped ashore, could not forbear accosting me with—“Any news this -morning, yer honour?” ‘Bad news,’ said I, ‘the Frenchmen are going to -have a bloody day of it; be thankful you are an Englishman.’ “So I am, -your honour,” was his hearty, and most honest reply. - -I had been travelling in Southern Europe, where, to borrow a thought of -Dr. Arnold’s, no one can be sure that anything is real, which he seems -to see: where _Savans_ are not scholars—where captains are not -soldiers—nor judges lawyers—where noblemen are not men of -honour—where priests are not pure—nor wives and matrons chaste. I was, -again, in the land of facts, a land deeply involved, indeed, in the sins -and miseries of a fallen world; but still a land, where, for centuries, -everything has been steadily advancing towards a high realization of -human capabilities, alike in the physical, and mental, and moral of -man’s nature. I was once more in a land where it is base to lie; where -domestic purity and piety find their noblest illustrations, whether in -palaces or cottages; and where not even luxury and pride have been able -to vitiate the general conviction of all classes, that righteousness -alone exalteth a nation, and that sin is a reproach to any people. - -On arriving in London, my very first employment was to visit the tomb of -the holy Bishop Andrewes, at St. Mary’s, Southwark. The prelate is -represented, at full length, stretched upon his sepulchre, and right -dear it was, after long tarrying amid the monuments of popes and -cardinals, to behold, once more, that of an honest and true man, and a -saint of God, who, in his day and generation, was “a burning and a -shining light.” The tomb of the exemplary and amiable poet Gower, is -also in this Church, and has often been described. - -Attending Evening Service at Westminster Abbey, on the following Sunday, -I was so much struck with the effect produced by the light of candles, -in the choir, that it seemed to me, I had never before fully felt the -wonderful impressiveness of that Church, nor even of the church service. -The surpliced singers, ranged in their stalls—the many faces of the -worshippers—and the lofty arches of the sombre architecture received a -new aspect, from the mingled light and shade, and the tones of worship -were imbued, by association, with something strange and solemn. Deep -under the vaultings lay the shadows, and here and there shone out a -marble figure, or glimmered a clustered column. When the organ sent its -tremulous tide far down the nave, it seemed to come back in echoes, like -the waves of the sea—the more effective, because of the distance -through which it had stretched and rolled the surge of sound; and when -the responsive _Amens_ rose, one after the other, from the voices of the -singers, plaintively interrupting the petitions, and marking the -impressive stillness of the intervals between, which were filled only -with the low monotone of prayer, then I felt how amiable are the temples -of the Lord of Hosts, and how fair a resemblance of that temple not made -with hands, where they rest not, day nor night, from their hymns, and -responsive praises. By the sides of the altar fared two immense wax -lights, giving a fine effect to the sanctuary. After the Second Lesson, -the preacher, Canon C——, ascended the pulpit, in his surplice, and -preached the sermon; after which, the Evening Prayer continued, as after -a baptism, the choir taking up the _Nunc dimittis_, followed by the -creed, the collects, the anthem, and the prayers, while the organ -thundered through the lengths and heights of the abbey. I joined the -throng which passed down the nave, and looking back again and again, I -received such powerful impressions of the sublimity of the place, as had -been wholly wanting to the effect by daylight, as experienced on former -occasions. One parting look through the western door, through the dimly -illuminated perspective, and then I turned slowly and thoughtfully away. -On the preceding Sunday, I had left the cathedral service, at Rouen, in -circumstances precisely similar, and my mind naturally fell into a -comparative train of thought. There was a great similarity in the -effects produced on the senses by the two services. A stranger to the -Latin and English languages, would have failed to note any marked -difference between them. He would have recognized the Catholic unities -of the two rites, and would have failed to observe their diversities, -papal and reformed. The French sermon had been vastly better than the -English one: the former was preached by an orator, the latter by a -spiritless and formal favourite of Lord John Russell. Yet, between the -two solemnities, in their entire effect, the disparity was greatly in -favour of the English service, which was audibly and reverently -performed, while the other was mumbled, and not understood by the -congregation. I felt that the Church of England was strong, if compared -with that of France, in her heritage of Catholic and Apostolic truth, as -distinguished from the systematic falsehoods, which have made the -religion of the other, a mere fable, in the general estimation of the -French people. - -At a later hour, the same evening, it was my lot to preach in St. -Bartholomew’s, Moor-lane, in the pulpit once filled by the worthy -Archbishop Sharpe. The incumbent of this Church had lately discovered at -Sion College a collection of papers and books once belonging to the -saintly Bishop Wilson; and he placed in my hands, for that evening, the -original _Sacra Privata_ of that holy and venerable prelate. I could not -but think how much we may owe it to his prayers, that the Church of -England is now what she is, as compared with what she was in his day; -and, in preaching, I took great delight in paying a parting tribute to -that Church, as compared with the churches of the continent. - -I am convinced that the debt which England and the world owe to the -Anglican Reformers of the sixteenth century, has never been properly -appreciated. Like the air which we breathe, but do not perceive, the -spirit with which they have invested the religion of England, is that of -life and health. They banished nothing but the fogs and noxious -exhalations of the middle ages; and, as the result, we find England hale -and hearty, and bearing more fruit in her age, while the churches which -allowed the Tridentine vapours to become their atmosphere, are perishing -in the agues and fevers of a long and ghastly decline. Look at Spain and -Italy! - -And I cannot forbear, in conclusion, to remark, that when American -travellers go to England, and copy the false statistics of some infidel -almanac, to justify their railings against the National Church, they are -about as wise as John Bull is, when he takes the statistics of our -(immigrant) pauperism and crime, as a test of the true state of American -society. It is true that there are great abuses connected with the -establishment; and it is also true that they are deplored by no class of -Englishmen, half so much as they are by the true churchman. If the -Church could be left to herself, they would be immediately reformed; but -the very creatures who rail at her, because of them, are they who refuse -to give her the freedom which she claims, and who do the most to enslave -her to the State power. I am no friend to that power in the Church of -God; but they who prate against the church, because of her misfortunes, -deserve the rebuke of all thinking men, whose knowledge of history, and -of the existing state of the world, enables them to compare what has -been done for England, by that church, even in her fetters, with what -all other religions put together have done for the residue of the world. -When we reflect upon the three great achievements of that Church for -English liberty—the Reformation, the Restoration of the Constitution -and Monarchy, and the repudiation of the Popish Stuarts, we may well -afford to laugh at such sneers as a Macaulay endeavours to raise against -her, on the ground of blemishes with which his own reckless and -treacherous political allies have deformed and afflicted her. And when -we attempt to estimate the blessings she has diffused through the whole -Anglo-Saxon people, and by them through the world, who can refrain from -blessing the dear Church which has placed the English Bible in every -cottage, and which, for three centuries, has read the _Ten -Commandments_, every Lord’s day, in the ears of millions of the people? -It is only when we think of what that Church has done, in spite of the -golden chains which fetter her, and in spite of the political miscreants -who have always hung like hounds upon her heels and hands, that we can -rightly estimate her strong vitality, and her vast beneficence. - -And let it be remembered, too, that all that is good among English -dissenters, is sucked from the Church, as the parasite derives its -nourishment from the oak. The dissenters are mainly the small-tradesmen -of England, a people intelligent enough to perceive the faults of their -hereditary religion, but not generally enlightened enough to know its -value and its services to themselves. They are like the Dutch boors, who -thought the sun did no good among the Flemings, because they saw it so -seldom, and who concluded that daylight came from the clouds, which were -always visible. Whoever will take the pains to contrast the dissenters -of England with those of Germany, will learn how much even they derive -from the Church, against which they so ignorantly rail. - -I desire to speak with great respect of many of the dissenters of -England, who, like their estimable Doddridge, are such by the force of -circumstances only, while they love and revere the Church of the nation; -but I have known even American Presbyterians to experience the greatest -revulsion of feeling against the mass of English dissenters, after -actual contact with their coarse and semi-political religionism. I was -not less surprised than gratified, moreover, to observe very lately, in -a widely circulated American newspaper, edited by eminent Presbyterians, -a full vindication of the Church of England from the odious and false -views current among us in America, with respect to the system of tithes. -The writer was himself an English or Irish dissenter, and he frankly -asserted the fact, that in paying his tithes, he suffered no wrong, and -contributed nothing to the establishment, which did not belong to her. -“In short,” said he, “the Church owns one-tenth of my rent, and I am -quite as willing to pay it to her, as to pay the nine-tenths to my other -landlord.” The nine-tenths might go to a popish priest; but does he who -pays it contribute to uphold Popery? No more than one who hires his -house of a play-actor, supports the stage. - -But although the decline of dissent, in England, is universally -admitted, it is generally imagined that Popery is growing. So it is if -the immigration from Ireland, of thousands of _navvies_, who have built -Romish chapels and convents, out of their earnings on the railways, be -the basis of the remark. But nothing was ever more over-rated than the -late Apostacy, which is the fruit of a mere personal influence, over a -few young men at Oxford, gained by one brilliant sophist, and -perniciously directed by him towards ultramontane Romanism. It has spent -itself already in a spasmodic revolt against common sense, which is -breeding a reaction towards rationalism: but the Church of England is as -much in danger from Irvingism as from Newmanism; and Wesleyanism was -vastly more energetic against her than either. The chagrin and -disappointment of Mr. Newman himself is most apparent. After numbering -the “educated men” whom he had involved in his own downfall as _a -hundred_, he confesses that their defection from the Church has scarcely -been felt by her. “The huge creature from which they went forth,” he -says, “showed no consciousness of its loss, but _shook itself, and went -about its work as of old time_.” Yes, but with a newer and mightier -energy than ever before, and that in both hemispheres. The unhappy man -seems to have imagined that by getting into a balloon, he could kick the -earth from its orbit: but the planet still revolves around the sun, -while he dangles in the air, lost in the brilliant clouds of his own -imaginations, and fancying his petty elevation as sublime as her pathway -through the skies. - -In the same manner, the Dublin reviewers are continually deploring their -powerless expenditure of vast resources against the religion of England, -which stands in its fortress of Scriptural truth, more impregnable than -Gibraltar. Let the reader reflect, for a minute, on the essential -characteristic of the Anglican Reformation, as it began under Wycliff, -in a _translation of the Scriptures_, and then weigh the importance of -the following citation from a Romish periodical. - -“Who will not say,” says the _Dublin Review_, “that the uncommon beauty -and marvellous English of the Bible is not one of the great strongholds -of heresy in this country. It lives on the ear like a music that can -never be forgotten, like the sound of the church-bell, _which the -convert hardly knows how he can forego_. Its felicities often seem to be -almost things rather than mere words. It is part of the national mind, -and the anchor of national seriousness. The memory of the dead passes -into it. The potent traditions of childhood are stereotyped in its -verses. The power of all the gifts and trials of a man is hidden beneath -its words. It is the representative of his best moments, and all that -there has been about him of soft, and gentle, and pure, and penitent, -and good, speaks to him forever out of the English Bible. It is his -sacred thing, which doubt has never dimmed, and controversy never -soiled. In the length and breadth of the land, there is not a Protestant -with one spark of righteousness about him, whose spiritual biography is -not in his Saxon Bible.” - -Action and reaction are always equal; and it is my own opinion that the -hand of God is visible in the permission of the late scandals, and their -sequel will demonstrate that He has been infusing into modern Romanism a -spirit which will blow it to atoms. Among the beardless boys, who have -swelled the numerical strength of the apostacy, there are some prodigals -who will yet come to themselves, and remember their father’s house with -penitent tears: and as to their leaders, the ex-Jesuit Steinmetz in his -narrative of a residence at Stoneyhurst, introduces the following -striking view of the case, which sustains my own impressions. “Though -the men of Rome,” he says, “exult in this reaction (as they call it) -which is making Oscott a _refugium peccatorum_, perhaps from among the -very men whose captive chains clank in their triumphal thanksgiving, -there will be shot the _lethalis arundo_, the deadly arrow that will -pierce and cling to the side of their mother church in the appointed -time. It is not children that they are receiving; but full-grown men, -accustomed most pertinaciously to think for themselves. They began with -being reformers, and it must be confessed with some of the boldness of -reformers. Will they be content to change their skins? To become sheep, -from having been, as it were, wolves? To smother the cunning and the -clever thought, which seems so flattering to one’s own vanity, in the -cold, dead ashes of papal infallibility? _We shall see._” This is -reasonable, and consoling. We may not live to see it; but a rebellion -against Truth must have its rebound, and Church and State will be -stronger for such rebellions in the end. - -If then, the decline of English arts and arms be near, of which I am by -no means as confident as some, it will be a very slow decline, and -coincident with a new glory, and a brighter one, than England yet has -known. Instead of armies, she is now sending forth soldiers of the -Prince of Peace. She has discovered that it is cheaper and wiser to -sustain missionaries than bayonets. The era of her greatest work is -before her. She is to become the nursing mother of nations, and in her -language, the sound of the Gospel is to go forth into all lands, and -unto the end of the world. Hers is the deposit of the faith once -delivered to the saints. The Roman Churches have divorced themselves -from the promises, and in the Catholicity of England chiefly is -fulfilled the promise of Christ, to be always with His own Apostolic -commission, even to the end of the world. At the same time, there is a -moral life in English society, which must long salt the State, and -preserve it from decay. I appeal to the common sense of Christian men, -and I ask, in what other country under heaven is there such a mass of -domestic and social purity? Where else is there so large a benevolence, -so masculine a religion, so enlightened a conscience, among any people? -England has her shame as well as her glory; she is part and parcel of a -sinful world; but her light is not hid under a bushel: and if the hope -of the world be not in her candle, I am at a loss to know where to find -encouragement as a Christian, that the Gospel is to become universal. I -believe, indeed, that my own country is to share, with her, this -magnificent career of peaceful conquest. We are bone of her bone, and -flesh of her flesh: but I believe, also, that before we can heal the -nations, we must first heal ourselves of the wretched religious anarchy -which is the bane of our education, our society, and our National -character. - -After lingering for a few days in the society of my friends, in London -and Oxford, I was, once more, for a short time, the guest of the friend -to whom this memorial is inscribed, and met at his table, again, the -venerable Vicar, who was one of the first to welcome me to England. To -part with such friends, and their families, perhaps forever, was only to -become aware how deeply I had entwined with theirs, my brotherly -feelings and Christian regards. But I had been long enough enjoying -myself amid the scenes and friendships which even our holy religion, -while it alone can produce them, forbids to our self-indulgence, in a -world where every Christian is called to the work of a missionary. Much -as I longed to mingle in the delights of an English Christmas, I felt -the call of duty, and the blessedness of giving as greater than that of -receiving. My own parishioners expected to see me at the altar, on the -approaching feast, and my heart warmed towards them, as deserving my -best endeavours to gratify their reasonable wishes. Thanks, under God, -to the good steamer Baltic, and its skillful commander, I escaped the -perils of a wintry sea, and on Christmas-eve, was restored to my flock, -and family, in Hartford. On the following day, as I celebrated the Holy -Eucharist, I trust it was not without befitting gratitude to God, nor -without a new and profound sense of the blessings we owe to him, whose -Gospel is the spirit of “peace on earth, and of good-will to men.” - - - - - * * * * * - - DANA AND COMPANY, - - No. 381 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, - - (_Sign of the Imperial Folio Bible_), - - HAVE FOR SALE— - - The Holy Bible, - _Oxford University Editions_. - -They have just published:— - - _Two Superior Editions of_ - - The Book of Common Prayer, - - 16mo. and 24mo. - -Styles and Prices as follows:— - - 16mo. - - (1) Turkey Morocco, super extra, gilt edges $ 2.50 - antique or flexible, - (2) The same with clasp 3.00 - (3) Turkey Morocco, (Second Style) gilt edges 1.75 - (4) The same with clasp 2.25 - (5) French Morocco gilt edges 1.25 - (6) Roan gilt edges 1.12 - (7) Roan red edges 1.00 - (8) Roan marble edges 88 - - 24mo. - - (1) Turkey Morocco, super extra, gilt edges $ 2.00 - antique or flexible, - (2) The same with clasp 2.50 - (3) Turkey Morocco, (Second Style) gilt edges 1.25 - (4) The same with clasp 1.75 - (5) French Morocco gilt edges 1.00 - (6) Roan gilt edges 80 - (7) Roan red edges 75 - (8) Roan marble edges 63 - -These Editions are printed in a superior manner, and excel other -editions, of same general style, in the size of type of the Psalms and -Hymns. - - * * * * * - -UNISON OF THE LITURGY. _From Advent to Ash-Wednesday._ By Archer -Gifford, A. M. _12mo. 328 pages._ - -_Price_, $1.00. - - It is pleasing to see a mind which has been long given to the - duties of a severe profession, turning thus for relief and - diversion into the brighter field of theological literature. Mr. - Gifford has already gained a distinction in New Jersey by - several legal works, which have had the patronage of our - Legislature, and now we have another volume from his pen, - intended, as it were, for a dutiful offering to his Church. - - The design of the work is to unfold and illustrate the more - profound and unapparent excellencies of that most elaborate of - all productions, the Episcopal Liturgy. Although there may be a - difference of opinion as to the utility of this manual of - devotional formularies, yet no one can fail to admire it as an - æsthetical composition. The manner in which it has been arranged - and ordered is most strikingly beautiful. It is a frame filled - with moveable pieces. On no two occasions of its use does it - appear exactly alike, but constantly assumes new combinations - with the progressive sentiment of the ecclesiastical year. These - ever changing portions within this unalterable framework are - wholly of a Scriptural character. For every Sunday, two chapters - are selected from the Old Testament, and two from the New, - called the “Lessons;” and two brief passages, chosen for their - weighty and emphatic import, called the “Epistle” and the - “Gospel,” are appropriately prefixed by a comprehensive and - leading prayer, whose substance has been gathered out of them, - called the “Collect.” But this is not merely a superficial - arrangement: an aim and a principle underlies it all. Every - Sunday and Holy-day has an especial subject assigned to it, - either doctrinal or preceptive, which runs through and dictates - all these variations of the Service. Thus in every week the - Scriptures are made, by these manifold citations from them, to - cluster around some central thought and flash their light upon - it. - - It is this which has furnished the design of Mr. Gifford’s book. - The Prayer-Book has had many commentators, all of whom have - alluded to the nearly-inspired wisdom of those who put it - together. The further they penetrate it the more they seem to - discover the long-forgotten ideal and matured plan out of which - it grew. The remarkable fact of an intentional unison of its - apparently diverse parts, has only been partially observed, and - it has been left to Mr. Gifford to discover and prove in every - case the beautiful appositeness of all to one nucleus idea. - This, under the heading of each Sunday, he distinctly sets - forth, and then traces its radiations first through the Collect, - then through the Epistle, then through the Gospel, then through - all the Lessons, to its remoter scintillations in the Catechism - and the Articles of Religion. - - Such is the fine conception around which the above work has - grown. The service of each Sunday is analyzed and outlined—all - the information that could be compressed into a small space is - given, and a rich variety of association instantly suggested to - the devout worshipper. Probably no one could have been found - better fitted for such a task than Mr. Gifford, and his - cultivated taste and wide range of study have been now so - successfully called into requisition that we find here the - thoughts and beauties of many different writers blended about - his own design in a many-hued mosaic. - - It is at once a noble eulogy upon the Liturgy, and a practical - standard guide to its use. In this latter, its real purpose, it - most admirably succeeds. The moral or spirit of each day being - fully set forth, the attention is sustained and devotion - quickened by the new colors and the defined interest thus thrown - over the Service as it proceeds. A Liturgy is liable to abuse if - people may go blindly and desultorily through it, but here the - clue of every recurring service is seized and industriously - pursued for them. One prominent topic is seen to draw its line - of light round all its parts, and bind them together as with a - girdle of gold. - - We have been glad to devote more than usual space to the notice - of this work, because it is the production of one of our - townsmen. A few specimen pages appeared about a year ago, which - received the approbation of many of the most distinguished men - in the Episcopal Church, and the author, thus encouraged, has - put forth the present handsome volume, designing to follow it by - another, thus completing the circle of the year. - - _Newark Daily Advertiser_ - - The work will do good in two ways: first, by furnishing valuable - practical matter for private reading and instruction; and - secondly, by dissipating the mist which some writers have - conjured up, in their efforts to show that the Prayer Book was a - piece of patch-work, with an Arminian or a Popish Liturgy, and - Calvinistic Articles; than which, no fancy could be more foolish - or futile. - - _Calendar_ - - * * * * * - -SERMONS FOR THE TIMES. By the Rev. Charles Kingsley, Author of “_Village -Sermons_,” “_Alton Locke_,” _etc._ _12mo., 360 pages._ - -_Price, 75 cents._ - - These Sermons are Kingsley all over; deep, daring, dashing - penetrating; vigorous. * * * * * * * * * * - * * * * * It strikes us as being a kind of preaching - that we want just now—that it is indeed preaching “for the - times;” in character with the times, and, therefore, adapted for - the times: yet, not in any spirit of compromise with the world - therein, but rather combating the spirit of the world with the - Spirit of Christ, in a matter-of-fact way. We think, therefore, - that the Clergy may find some useful hints in the pages of this - volume, while the Laity may peruse them with practical - advantage. - - _Churchman._ - - These are remarkable Sermons, as were those of his former - volume. They are models of a plain and direct style; sparkling - with forcible allusions and applications. They illustrate the - teaching of our Catechism to a considerable extent, and often in - the happiest manner, regarding it as a symbol of Catholic truth. - They are worth reading for their power and demonstrations of - most important doctrines, little heeded in these times, when the - Puritan and Sectarian spirit seeks to prevail. - - _Banner of the Cross._ - - This is a reprint of one of the most characteristic, if not one - of the most extraordinary volumes of the day, which no one can - read without interest, and few without profit. There is - something striking, not to say startling, about everything the - author says; and yet the language is so simple and appropriate, - as to be perfectly intelligible to every one. - - _Calendar._ - - A capital volume it is—his style seems to gain in directness, - crispness, vigor, and momentum, as he grows older. It is as - clear as English can be made. A healthy common sense rules - throughout * * * * * * In our day when muddy heads do so greatly - abound, a volume of such sturdy, pungent, powerful and - illuminating Saxon, is of the highest worth. - - _Church Journal._ - - They are incomparable Sermons for _Lay_-reading. - - * * * * * - -SERMONS FOR THE TIMES. By the Rev. Charles Kingsley, _Author of_ -“_Village Sermons_,” “_Alton Locke_,” _etc._ _12mo., 360 pages._ - -_Price, 75 cents._ - - These sermons abound in striking thoughts, presented with - remarkable clearness and simplicity. - - _Christian Witness._ - - * * * * With all the faults of these sermons, we should like to - see them in the hands of our evangelical clergy. * * * - - _Southern Churchman._ - - These sermons were written by the same pen that wrote “Alton - Locke,” and “Yeast.” It has been said that the author is only a - baptised infidel, and that he desecrates his pulpit and his - clerical character to the unhallowed purpose of promulgating a - skepticism, whose only redeeming feature is that it is - ill-concealed. These “Sermons for the Times” make an entirely - different impression on us. They seem to us to be the heart - utterances of one whose views are on some points, indeed, a - little peculiar, but who holds, with a clear intelligence and - lively faith, the great truths of the Gospel of Christ. If - Infidelity can sincerely preach and practice the doctrines with - which this volume is rife, we think it will be doing as much to - convert the world to true religion as some religionists we wot - of, whose strength is so exhausted in proving other folks - heretics, that they have little left to make themselves or the - world the servants of God. To such, and to all, we commend the - “Sermons for the Times.” They will do all good. - - _Ohio Farmer._ - - This second volume of sermons by Mr. Kingsley contains the - earnest words of an English clergyman upon the evils of the - times. They are addressed to the hearers of a country parish - church, in plain, honest Saxon, enforcing the Church Catechism - and rebuking the selfishness, dishonesty, irreverence, - profligacy and godlessness of the day. In quaint, - straightforward simplicity, they remind us of the services of - the good Hugh Latimer, of blessed memory. - - _Rome Daily Sentinel._ - - The discourses are remarkable for their simplicity, yet they - evince rare intellectual power, and each page gives evidence of - the genius of the author. - - _Boston Evening Transcript._ - - They are so practical and sensible that they will be read with - profit and pleasure by all persons who are seekers after truth. - - _Boston Daily Advertiser._ - - * * * * * - -OUR CHURCH MUSIC.—_A Book for Pastors and People._ By Richard Storrs -Willis. _12mo., 138 pages._ - -_Price, 50 cents._ - - The Church has a good right to look to Mr. Richard S. Willis, as - being, perhaps, of all our youthful native musicians, the one of - whom she may expect the most true hearted and efficient service. - His training, however scientific, has not been that which would - qualify him the most readily for usefulness in this field: but - there is an earnest devotion of spirit, a reaching forth after - the deep and the true, a growing strength and manliness, - exercised and made firm by a steady industry, which promise the - best results. He has just issued a neat little volume on _Our - Church Music, a Book for Pastors and People_, which is the best - and most thoughtful practical essay that has for a long time - appeared among us. - - _Church Journal._ - - Were it not for the copyright on this admirable book, we should - be compelled to transfer large portions of it to our pages. As - it is, we hope to give, hereafter, some specimens of it, and in - the mean time, cordially recommend it for its interest and the - usefulness of its suggestions. - - _Episcopal Recorder._ - - Many of the articles collected in this pleasant and thoughtful - volume have been already published in our columns; and we are - glad to know that they have attracted that attention among our - readers which they deserve. The series is now completed, by the - addition of others, not so well adapted to a journal like this, - because requiring diagrams, etc., to illustrate them, but - harmonious with those in tone and teaching, and equally rich in - useful suggestions. Mr. Willis has brought the finest musical - cultivation of Europe to assist him in his task, but has never - allowed his artistic taste and knowledge to overlay and smother - his native good sense, or his instinctive perception of what is - demanded in true church music. We have found his writings on - this subject instructive and quickening; the more so, perhaps, - because our own half-formed thoughts have often been brought - back to us by him, more fully and clearly expressed than they - had been to ourselves, and clothed with the authority that - belongs to one who is so rapidly becoming a recognised Master in - his chosen department. - - _Independent._ - - * * * * * - -OUR CHURCH MUSIC.—_A Book for Pastors and People._ By Richard Storrs -Willis. _12mo., 138 pages._ - -_Price, 50 cents._ - - Mr. Willis in this work considers church music mainly as a part - of worship, which is its true and original design, and not as a - mere entertainment interposed between the graver offices of - devotion and instruction. He points out the objections to the - common modes of conducting church music, stating them with a - good deal of force and vivacity. * * * * Mr. Willis thinks that - to make our music what it ought to be, “we need to simplify the - congregational style and amplify the choir style.” He gives some - practical suggestions, well worthy of consideration, respecting - the singing of children in churches, the position of the choir - and organ, the importance of clergymen possessing some knowledge - of music as an art, and the training of the youth of a - congregation in singing. In a second part of his treatise, Mr. - Willis considers what subjects are proper for hymns, the - adaptation of hymns to music, the treatment of words, the - expression given to them in singing, and the introduction of - what he calls “secular efforts” in church music. His views on - all these subjects bear witness to his fine taste and careful - study of the subject. Mr. Willis has given to both the - scientific and practical part of music the study of years, and - is entitled to speak on the subject with a tone of decision. - - _New York Evening Post._ - - The author is possessed of a profound scientific musical - education, perfected in the best schools in Europe. Since his - return home he has been engaged in editing the Musical World, a - paper which has done more than all other publications together - to diffuse and popularize a correct musical taste in this - country. His journal is not confined, however, to musical - criticism, but comprehends also every other branch of the Fine - Arts, and is characterized by candid and intelligent exposition - and elegant discussion. Mr. Willis has given much attention to - _Church Music_, and the just views so ably and earnestly - enforced in the Musical World, are beginning to produce a - practical impression that exhibits itself extensively in - improvements introduced into that department of public worship. - These he has embodied into a volume bearing the title “Our - Church Music: a book for Pastors and People.” It is full of - interest to the pastor, the choir, and the congregation. - - _New York Journal of Commerce._ - - * * * * * - -OUR CHURCH MUSIC.—_A Book for Pastors and People._ By Richard Storrs -Willis. _12mo. 138 pages._ - -_Price, 50 cents._ - - A little work, designed—as the title page indicates—“for - Pastors and People,” and one that may be advantageously studied - by both. The author is most favorably known to our lettered and - musical community, as editor of that excellent periodical, “_The - Musical World_;” but he here takes his stand upon a broader - basis. He does not treat of the choral arrangements generally - prevalent in the tone or spirit of a Professor. He sinks the - Art, of which he is a practised master, under the solemn claims - of the dignity and hallowed purposes of Church worship, and - plies his arguments for the benefit of congregations alone. He - complains—and with reason—that in many of the American - churches, the singing and chanting are just as much - _performances_, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, as - though auditors and singers were in a concert-room; and points - out very simply and cogently how this evil has arisen, and how - it may be modified, if not removed. Psalmody also comes in for - an examination; and we must say we have been greatly struck with - the combined boldness, delicacy, and religious sentiment, - displayed by Mr. Willis, in handling a somewhat delicate - theme—one in which many of the Clergy are averse to having - outsiders meddle.—In short, this duodecimo of one hundred and - thirty pages is an exceedingly suggestive little work; its - common sense and practical view bringing it within the - comprehension of non-professional readers. It has greatly - interested us. May it be of use. - - _Albion._ - - A book this, full of common sense, and most happily adapted to - the state of things in ten thousand places of worship in the - United States. As we have turned over its pages we have - exclaimed again and again, “How true! How well said! Would that - everybody could read it!” The adoption of the suggestions made - in this volume would work a speedy revolution in our Church - music, transforming it from a mere professional display, into - simple and beautiful, because heartfelt, worship. Let it then be - widely circulated. - - _Ohio Farmer._ - - A glance over its chapter-headings will reveal to all interested - in the subject of the volume, the richness of its themes. The - manner of their discussion seems to us judicious and sensible, - and almost wholly in the right direction. We do not accord with - some of the criticisms of the work, but we certainly believe - that its author is in advance of the world in his teachings, and - that the study of his treatise must make our church music - better. - - _Congregationalist._ - - * * * * * - -HEART AND HOME TRUTHS.—By the Rev. R. Whittingham, Jr. _12mo., 188 -pages._ - -_Price, 75 cents._ - - _Heart and Home Truths_ is the modest title of a work, in which - will be found much more than the average of deep thought, and - true tender feeling. From the contemplation of the most familiar - features of natural things, the nature of _Truth_ is beautifully - illustrated, and the modes by which it is to be attained are - shown to be in the closest analogy with the other works of Him, - who hath composed in one Spirit, both the Book of Nature and the - Book of Revelation. Its doctrinal tone is high and - uncompromising, though altogether devoid of harshness; and the - drapery of style is as rich with the embroidery of fancy and a - glowing imagination, as the glorious face of nature itself can - make it. This unpretending work will make a way for the Truth in - the minds of many, upon whom a more didactic manner would be - thrown away. - - _Church Journal._ - - * * * * * - -THE END OF CONTROVERSY, CONTROVERTED.—By the Rt. Rev. John H. Hopkins, -D.D., _Bishop of Vermont_. _In two vols. 12mo., 918 pages._ - -_Price, $2.00._ - - The well-known work of the Romish Bishop, Milner, entitled, - “_The End of Controversy_,” was recommended some years ago by - the Romish Bishop Kenrick, to all our Bishops, as a book, the - perusal of which would bring them into the Romish Church; a - movement which he exhorted them to take soon, lest their - _people_ should all go before them, and leave them alone. That - work is still extensively circulated throughout all this - country, and many earnest Protestants have long desired a work - which might be a popular as well as a conclusive reply. This - want is now supplied. Milner is plausible, ingenious, bold, - unscrupulous, and withal _readable_. The difficulty has been - hitherto, not to answer the book—for that has been done again - and again—but to answer it in such a way as would enable them - to meet the enemy upon his own ground. The well-known - familiarity of the Bishop of Vermont with every phase of the - Romish controversy, his thorough learning, clear reasoning, and - brilliant and effective style, have all contributed to make this - one of the most successful of his contributions to the cause of - Truth. And the present position of the controversy with Rome, - and the keenness with which public attention is aroused to meet - her terrible aggressions, will give occasion for the circulation - of works like this, which, without ever compromising or ignoring - the truth still remaining in the midst of corruption, yet, - throughout, maintains the most vigorous and triumphant - opposition to the errors of Rome. - - * * * * * - -A PRESBYTERIAN CLERGYMAN LOOKING FOR THE CHURCH.—By the Rev. Flavel S. -Mines. _12mo., 600 pages._ - -_Price, $1.25._ - - This is now acknowledged to be the leading work in the - Controversy between Episcopacy and Presbyterianism. It has - already had a more extensive circulation than any other; and - from the vigorous style of the author, his glowing and copious - rhetoric, the popular ease with which he handles his subject, - and the masterly skill with which he arranges his argument, so - that the full force of every point shall, as it were, stare the - reader in the face, there is small probability that this - brilliant and standard work will ever be superseded. - - * * * * * - -DICTIONARY OF THE CHURCH.—By the Rev. William Staunton. _12mo., 474 -pages._ - -_Price, $1.00._ - - This is the original work, which has since been the model of - others in England and elsewhere. In clearness of style, and - fulness of detail as regards everything peculiar to the - Protestant Episcopal Church in this country, it is altogether - without a rival. It will aid many a Churchman to render a reason - for the System of the Church; and, to those not of her - Communion, it will explain fully everything which at first sight - may appear to them strange or inappropriate. - - * * * * * - -THE PLAIN SONG OF THE CHURCH. _Recently Published. 16mo., 80 pages._ - -_Price, 38 cents._ - - For congregational chanting, to be done in _unison_ by all those - who can sing, the ancient _plain song_ of the Church is the only - music which will ensure success. The real _Gregorians_ have been - much talked of on this side of the water; but this is the - _first_ and only work in which they have yet _appeared_. All - other publications containing them, have so far modified or - altered them, as to ruin their true effect. In simplicity and - plasticity, in strength and dignity, and manly character, no - other chants are to be compared with them. The above work - includes all the Canticles of Morning and Evening Prayer, - together with the occasional Anthems appointed for Easter Day, - Thanksgiving, the Consecration of a Church, and the Institution - of a Minister. It gives also the ancient notation for all the - parts of the Service which may be performed chorally. The _canto - fermo_ is in the ancient character; the accompaniment is in the - modern notation. - - * * * * * - -MEN AND TIMES OF THE REVOLUTION; or, Memoirs of Elkanah Watson; -_Including Journals of Travels in Europe and America, from 1777 to 1842, -with his Correspondence with Public Men, and Reminiscences and Incidents -of the Revolution. Edited by his son_, Winslow C. Watson. _8vo., 460 -pages._ - -_Price, $1.50._ - - Mr Watson has contributed an interesting and valuable work to - the literature of the Revolution. A worthy descendant of the - Pilgrims, he traversed our country several times during the - period of the War; and for about five years he travelled in - England, France, Holland and Flanders, associating familiarly, - at home and abroad, with statesmen, philosophers, and military - men, a shrewd observer, diligently recording his observations - and reflections. - - _Publisher’s Critic._ - - “The American Merchant,” as we saw him in our boyhood at the - Academy from the easel of the great American artist, Copley, the - powder fresh on his hair, and the _shimmer_ of the velvet - leaving us in doubt whether his coat was the handiwork of the - painter or the tailor—the American Merchant, Elkanah Watson, - lives still on the canvas of Copley, in colors that time has - ripened, and not impaired; but all that is mortal of this man of - Revolutionary times, has been gathered to his fathers; and his - son, Winslow C. Watson, Esq., here presents us with a volume of - reminiscences, whose only fault is its brevity. - - _Evening Post._ - - * * * * These posthumous papers will be universally welcomed by - the public. They form an invaluable repository of facts and - reflections, which will materially aid the researches of the - biographer and the historian. Mr. Watson’s correspondence with - public men, his familiar intercourse with the prominent - characters of the Revolution, his observations in Europe at a - time when the fortunes of America were trembling in the balance, - exhibit in a new light the multitude of influences which, in the - Old World and in the New, were brought to bear in favor of our - independence, and finally led to its acknowledgment, first by - France, Holland and Spain, and lastly by the mother country. * * - * * * * * * * * * * But here we must leave this - fascinating volume, not, however, without urging our readers to - seek a further acquaintance with its pages. - - _New York Evening Mirror._ - - * * * * * - -MEN AND TIMES OF THE REVOLUTION; or, Memoirs or Elkanah Watson; -_Including Journals of Travels in Europe and America, from 1777 to 1842, -with his Correspondence with Public Men, and Reminiscences and Incidents -of the Revolution. Edited by his son_, Winslow C. Watson. _8vo., 460 -pages._ - -_Price, $1.50._ - - The title-page of this volume indicates very justly its real - character. The first seventy-five pages of the book are filled - with exceedingly interesting reminiscences of Mr. Watson’s early - life, including the minute details of his experience and - observations in his travels on horseback from Connecticut to - South Carolina and back, immediately after the commencement of - the Revolutionary War. The following one hundred and sixty pages - embrace a record of his experience and observation during a four - years’ sojourn and travel in Europe, from 1779 to 1784; and the - remaining two hundred and twenty pages are occupied with - recollections pertaining to a multitude of places, incidents, - and individuals, and with extracts from his correspondence with - many persons of distinction in the past generation. The period - through which the volume takes the reader, the rare - opportunities afforded its author of acquiring a personal - knowledge of its political history and the varied phases of its - society, his quick and keen observation, and his constant habit - of recording what he saw and heard, and his impressions in - regard to men and events, render it not only an interesting and - instructive volume, but an important acquisition to our sources - of national history. - - _Protestant Churchman._ - - This is an entertaining and instructive biography of a gentleman - who was a leading American merchant during the Revolution. - - _Episcopal Recorder._ - - * * * Few men had so long and varied an experience. More than - half these memoirs is an autobiography; the remainder has been - compiled from the manuscripts, correspondence, &c., of the - deceased. The whole work is exceedingly entertaining, and will - be of service to future historians. - - _N. Y. Commercial Advertiser._ - - His travels, his extensive acquaintance with all sorts of - people, extending up from the Revolution until a very recent - period, make a volume of much more than ordinary interest. - - _New Haven Morning Journal and Courier._ - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -Hyphenation and archaic spellings have been retained as in the original. - -Punctuation has been corrected without note. Other errors have been -corrected as noted below: - -page xi, town—Litchfield Cathedral, ==> town—Lichfield Cathedral, -page 11, an ancient minister, ==> an ancient minster, -page 31, entered by Poet’s corner. ==> entered by Poets’ Corner. -page 32, objects in Poet’s Corner, ==> objects in Poets’ Corner, -page 33, the Dean’s ultilitarianism ==> the Dean’s utilitarianism -page 50, character of it scenery ==> character of its scenery -page 70, joys and sorows; ==> joys and sorrows; -page 118, busts in Poet’s corner, ==> busts in Poets’ Corner, -page 122, familiar to Shakspereans, ==> familiar to Shakspeareans, -page 123, visiting Hounsditch and Billingsgate, ==> visiting Houndsditch - and Billingsgate, -page 140, manuscript of Cœdmon, ==> manuscript of Cædmon, -page 165, Mall and St. James’ street ==> Mall and St. James’s-street -page 166, down St. James’-street, and ==> down St. James’s-street, and -page 166, (as pourtrayed in his ==> (as portrayed in his -page 168, by Lord George Lenox ==> by Lord George Lennox -page 193, tine artificial cataract ==> fine artificial cataract -page 239, most pleasing representive ==> most pleasing representative -page 246, Hanoverians, surrending art ==> Hanoverians, surrendering art -page 259, towards the Solant ==> towards the Solent -page 276, yet, unless _Encœnia_ ==> yet, unless _Encænia_ -page 288, St. Wilfrids’ needle ==> St. Wilfrid’s needle -page 304, enthusiasm exibits itself ==> enthusiasm exhibits itself - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND*** - - -******* This file should be named 53952-0.txt or 53952-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/9/5/53952 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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text-align:left; vertical-align:top; -} - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - .literal-container { text-align:center; margin:0 0; } - .literal { display:inline-block; text-align:left; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.3em; } - - h1.pg { font-weight: bold; - font-size: 190%; - margin-top: 0em; - clear: both; } - h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; - clear: both; } - hr.full { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Impressions of England, by A. Cleveland -(Arthur Cleveland) Coxe</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Impressions of England</p> -<p> or Sketches of English Scenery and Society</p> -<p>Author: A. Cleveland (Arthur Cleveland) Coxe</p> -<p>Release Date: January 13, 2017 [eBook #53952]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Mardi Desjardins<br /> - and the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdpcanada.net">http://www.pgdpcanada.net</a>)<br /> - from page images digitized by<br /> - the Google Books Library Project<br /> - (<a href="http://books.google.com">http://books.google.com</a>)<br /> - and generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages, digitized by Google, are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/impressionsengl02coxegoog"> - https://archive.org/details/impressionsengl02coxegoog</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:2.1em;font-weight:bold;'>IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>OR,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>SKETCHES</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-weight:bold;'>OF</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>ENGLISH SCENERY AND SOCIETY.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>BY</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>A. CLEVELAND COXE,</p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>RECTOR OF GRACE CHURCH, BALTIMORE.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>When I travelled, I saw many things; and I understand more than I can express.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:4em;'><span class='sc'>Ecclus.</span> xxxiv. 11.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>SECOND EDITION.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>NEW YORK:</p> -<p class='line'>DANA AND COMPANY, 381 BROADWAY.</p> -<p class='line'>1856.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>By DANA & COMPANY</span>,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the</p> -<p class='line'>Southern District of New York.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>R. C. VALENTINE,</p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>Stereotyper and Electrotypist</span>,</p> -<p class='line'>17 Dutch-st., cor. Fulton,</p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>New York</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>GEO. RUSSELL & CO., Printers</p> -<p class='line'>61 Beekman-street, N. Y.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/tothe.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:100px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.2em;'>THE REV. JOSEPH OLDKNOW, M. A.,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em;'>OF CHRIST’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>PERPETUAL CURATE OF HOLY TRINITY CHAPEL,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em;'>BORDESLEY, BIRMINGHAM,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>IN GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em;'>AND AS A MEMORIAL</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>OF HAPPY DAYS AND NIGHTS AT BORDESLEY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.3em;'>I DEDICATE THESE SKETCHES.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;font-size:1.1em;'>A. C. C.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:1em;'><span class='it'>Baltimore</span>, 1855.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>PREFACE.</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The following sketches pre-suppose, on the part of the -reader, a familiarity with English subjects, and with the -geography, history and literature of England. The writer -has endeavored to avoid the common-places of travel, and has -made no allusion to topics which are generally understood, -such as the petty annoyances one meets at hotels, and the coldness -and phlegm of fellow-travellers. He has also forborne -to dwell on the greater evils of English society, because -these have been thoroughly discussed and exposed, as well -by Englishmen as by foreigners. Besides, our countrymen -are kept constantly in view of that side of the matter, and -there would be no relish of novelty to excuse him for -treating them afresh to whole pages made up of the untrustworthy -statistics of Dissenting Almanacs, and the rant -of Irish members of Parliament. Although English travellers -have often dealt unfairly with us, he prefers to show -his dislike of such examples, by forbearing to imitate them. -Nor does he regard a different course as due to his love of -country. A clergyman who devotes his life to the holiest -interests of his native land, and who daily thinks, and -prays, and toils, and exhorts others, in behalf of her wants—alike -those which are purely religious and those which -pertain to letters, to education and to society in general—may -surely excuse himself from vociferous professions of -patriotism. He freely avows his love of country to be -consistent with a perception of her faults and deficiencies, -and mainly to consist in a high appreciation of her many -advantages; in a sense of responsibility for the blessings -of which she has made him partaker; and in a studious -desire always to remember what is due to her reputation, -so far as his humble share in it may be concerned. Whether -at home or abroad, he would endeavour so to act as never -to disgrace her; but he cannot sympathize with the sort -of patriotism which rejoices in the faults of other countries, -or which travels mainly to gloat over them. Least of all, -can he share in any petty comparisons of ourselves -with our mother country. If there be Englishmen who -take any pleasure in our defects, he is sorry for their narrowness; -if any American finds satisfaction in this or that -blemish of English society, he cannot comprehend it. He -considers a sacred alliance between the two countries eminently -important to mankind; and he who would peril -such interests, for the sake of some trivial matter of personal -pride, must be one of the most pitiable specimens -of human nature, be he American or Briton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He has aimed, therefore, to present his countrymen with -a record of the pleasures which travel in England may -afford to any one pre-disposed to enjoy himself, and able to -appreciate what he sees. He confesses, also, that he has -though rather confined himself to an exhibition of the bright -side of the picture, because he fears that many of his -countrymen are sceptical as to its existence. He suspects -that Americans too commonly go to England prepared to -dislike it, and soon cross the channel determined to be -happy in France.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As a great measure of his own enjoyment depended -upon the fact, that he mingled freely with English society, -he thinks it proper to say that he owed his introductions -chiefly to a few English friends with whom he had corresponded -for years beforehand. He supplied himself -with very few introductions from his native land, and -even of these he presented only a part; and in accepting -civilities he was careful to become indebted for them, -only when he had a prospect of being able, in some -degree, to return them. As the inter-communion of the -Churches tends to make the interchange of hospitalities -more frequent, he was the rather desirous in nothing to -presume on the good-will at present existing; the abuse -of which will certainly defeat the ends for which it has -been so generously promoted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having given years to the study of the British Constitution, -and to the Literature and Religion of England, he -has for a long time been accustomed to watch its politics, -and its public men. He has, therefore, spoken of several -public characters, both Whigs and Tories, in a manner -which their respective admirers will hardly approve, but, as -he believes, without prejudice, and as a foreigner may do, -with more freedom than a fellow-subject. In such expressions -of personal opinion he has given an independent judgment, -and he is very sure that many of his English friends -will be sorry to see some of his criticisms on their leading -statesmen. It is but just to them to say, that in remarks -on the Sovereign, and her amiable Consort, the writer has -spoken entirely for himself, and with a freedom, in which -their loyalty and affection never allow them to indulge. -He believes that an impartial posterity will, nevertheless, -sustain the views with respect to political matters which -he has expressed, and he considers it part of the duty -of a traveller, in detailing his impressions, to be frank on -such subjects, in avowing “how it strikes a stranger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He desires also to confess another purpose, in preparing -and publishing this little work. He has aimed to present, -prominently, to his readers, the distinguishing and characteristic -merits of English civilization. Innumerable -causes are now at work to debase the morals of our own -countrymen. With the contemporaries of Washington, -that high social refinement which was kept up amid all -the evils of our colonial position, has well-nigh passed -away. The dignity of personal bearing, the careful civility -of intercourse, and the delicate sense of propriety which -characterized the times of our grandfathers, have disappeared. -The vulgarizing influences of a dissocial sectarianism -are beginning to be perceived. The degrading -effects of sudden wealth; the corruptions bred of luxury; -the evils of a vast and mongrel immigration; and not -least, the vices communicated to our youth, by contact -with the Mexican and half-Spanish populations contiguous -to our southern frontier; all these corrosive elements are -operating among us with a frightful and rapid result. The -contrast with such tendencies, of the sober and comparatively -healthful progress of society in our ancestral land, -the writer supposes, cannot but be acceptable at least to -those of his countrymen who deprecate this deterioration, -and who, for themselves and their families, are anxious to -cultivate an acquaintance with those domestic, educational -and religious institutions which have given to England -her moral power and dignity among the nations of the -civilized world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These sketches were originally contributed to the New-York -<span class='it'>Church Journal</span>, but are here given in a revised and -complete form. They are a record of the memorable year -1851—a year to which English history will look back as -the last, and the full-blown flower of a long peace. The -revival of the imperial power in France, at the close of -that year, has opened a new era in Europe, the effects -of which upon the British Empire can hardly be foreseen.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-top:0.5em;font-size:1.1em;'>A. C. C.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:1em;'><span class='it'>Baltimore</span>, 1855.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>TABLE OF CONTENTS.</h1></div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapI'>CHAPTER I.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Holyhead—Incidents of the Voyage—Oxford stage-coach and Stratford -guide-post—Easter-bells and Easter solemnities—An Elizabethan Mansion—A -Roger-de-Coverley picture in real life—A Fancy Chapel—An old fashioned -Vicarage.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapII'>CHAPTER II.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aspect of a Cathedral-town—Lichfield<a id='lich'></a> Cathedral, its injuries and -restorations—St. Chad, and Stowe-Church—Lord Brooke, his sacrilege and -retribution—Dr. Johnson and his penance—The Three-Crowns Inn—Evening -Service at the Cathedral—A Midland-county custom.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapIII'>CHAPTER III.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brummagem Bishops—American oak in King Edward’s School—New-England -in Deritend—Oscott—Italian Catholicity—Pugin and the Papists—The -Oratory and Mr. Newman—An Oratorian Sermon—Romish Methodism.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapIV'>CHAPTER IV.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Scene at a London Railway Station—A drive to Pall-Mall—Whitehall and -Hungerford Bridge—The new Bishop of Lincoln—The S. P. G. House—Nell -Gwynne—Westminster Abbey—The Jerusalem Chamber—Lord John -Thynne—The Coronation Vestments.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapV'>CHAPTER V.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Historic Scenes in Westminster Hall—The Scene it presents in our -days—The New Palace and Victoria Tower—The silent Highway—Lambeth -Palace—Chelsea, and Martin the painter—Whitehall Palace and Garden—Oratorio -at Chelsea—Sara Coleridge and other members of the poet’s family.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapVI'>CHAPTER VI.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bury Street, St. James—The Lungs of London—Riding in Rotten-Row—First -view of the Crystal-palace—The venerable S. P. G.—The Bishop of -Oxford—First glimpse of Oxford—Cuddesdon Palace—A Sermon at St. -Ebbe’s—A country Church—Bishop Lowth’s Epitaph on his daughter.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapVII'>CHAPTER VII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Forest-hill—A walk in the country—Miltonian scenery—Mary Powell’s -birth-place—A dame’s School—Milton’s Well—A neat-handed Phillis—Elucidations -on the spot—Sir William Jones.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapVIII'>CHAPTER VIII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oxford—William of Wykeham—New College and its Gardens—Magdalen—Addison’s -Walk—Scene in the Convocation-house—May-morning -hymn on Magdalen Tower—Scenery of the surrounding country—Morning-bells -and a walk in the College-grounds.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapIX'>CHAPTER IX.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Queen’s Progress to the Crystal-palace—The mob in the Park—The -Queen’s return—Her appearance at Buckingham Palace—Americans at a -discount—The interior view of the Great Exhibition—A high-priced day and -a low-priced day—The end of the bubble—Jack in the Green.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapX'>CHAPTER X.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Chapel Royal of St. James—The Duke of Wellington at his prayers—The -Sermon—The Duke at the Holy Communion—St. Paul’s Cathedral—How -it compares with St. Peter’s—Effect of the Choral Service—Dean Milman—St. -Barnabas’, Pimlico, and its Mediævalisms—Fashion at St. George’s—The -Bishop of Nova-Scotia.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXI'>CHAPTER XI.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ramblings in London—All-hallows, Barking—First view of the Tower—The -Sovereigns on horseback—Historical relics—The Armada and its cargo—The -block and the axe—The jewel-room—Laud and Strafford—Prisoners’ -inscriptions—The graves in the Tower-Chapel—The Traitors’ gate.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXII'>CHAPTER XII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>House of Commons—Message from the Lords—D’Israeli—Lord John—The -Speaker—The Abbey and Whitehall at dead of night—The Papal Aggression—The -course of the Whigs with the Papists—The Irish Brigade—Lord -John and D’Israeli in a personal debate—Feebleness of Ministerial -measures.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXIII'>CHAPTER XIII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Decorations of the House of Lords—Their wholesome moral—The future -of the new Chamber—The Aristocracy—Manners in Parliament—The Lord -Chancellor Truro—The London Police—Their impartiality.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXIV'>CHAPTER XIV.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Exhibitions of Art—Westminster Bridge—Lambeth—A wherry on the -River—Temple Gardens and Church—Twelfth-Night—To the ball on the -dome of St. Paul’s—Descent to the Crypts—Nelson’s Tomb—The Thames -Tunnel—Shipping.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXV'>CHAPTER XV.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Cries of London—Covent Garden Market—The Savoy—St. Clement -Danes and Dr. Johnson—Anecdote of Johnson at Temple-bar—Lincoln’s -Inn—Heralds’ College—The Times—The Old Bailey—A Trial for Murder—A -Visit to the Dead—Milton’s Grave—Grub-street—Chaucer’s Tabard.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXVI'>CHAPTER XVI.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charms of Society in London—The London Season—Breakfast-parties—Dining -out—Children at the Dessert—Evening-parties—Historical Costumes—A -literary party at Lady Talfourd’s—Influence of high refinement on individual -character—Pronunciation—A breakfast at Samuel Rogers’.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXVII'>CHAPTER XVII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Exeter College, Oxford—A Sunday at Oxford—Common-room of Oriel—Visit -to Nuneham Courtenay—Parish-school—Society in Oxford—Life of -an Oxonian Fellow—A visit to Dr. Routh—Relics of Laud—Oxford Martyrs—Libraries -and Museum—Chapel of Merton—A boat-race.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXVIII'>CHAPTER XVIII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Iffley Church—Radley, and a walk through Bagley Wood—Making a Doctor -of Divinity—A drive through the country—Parish-stocks—Incidents of -the journey—Old villages—Descent into the Vale of Gloucester—A picture -in real scenery.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXIX'>CHAPTER XIX.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Worcester Cathedral—Coaching to Malvern—Great and Little Malvern—Tewksbury—Wars -of the Roses—Bredon—Sunday at Kemerton—May’s -Hill—The Cuckoo—Gloucester—The Church at Highnam—Architectural -beauty of Gloucester Cathedral—Effect in twilight.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXX'>CHAPTER XX.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Old Palace of St. James—Preparations for going to Court—The -procession of carriages—The Presentation—The Queen and Prince Albert—A -drawing-room—The Ladies—Decorations of the royal apartments—Portraits -in the Corridor—Reflections.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXI'>CHAPTER XXI.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>A visit to Harrow Weald—Ascension Day—Oak-leaves in honor of the -Restoration—Cricket—Evening Service, and a remarkable Sermon—Coventry—Peeping -Tom and Lady Godiva—Kenilworth—The ruins—Guy’s -Cliff—Piers Gaveson—Warwick Castle.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXII'>CHAPTER XXII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Stratford-upon-Avon—The Red-Horse Inn—Geoffrey Crayon—The Birth-place -of Shakspeare—New-Place—Walk to Shottery—The Churchyard—The -Church and Tomb—The Epitaph of Shakspeare’s daughter—Influence -of the Church on the mind of Shakspeare.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXIII'>CHAPTER XXIII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nottingham—Lord Byron’s reputation—The Castle—Derby—The Wye—Haddon -Hall—Gallery—Chapel—Chatsworth—Matlock-Bath—Shrewsbury—A -Sedan-chair—Welsh Emigrants—Chester—Eaton-Hall.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXIV'>CHAPTER XXIV.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>St. Winifred’s Well—The Vale of Clwyd—Rhuddlan—St. Asaph—A -Welsh Inn—Welsh hospitality—The Welsh service in a rural Church—The -Holy Clerk of Llanerch—Mrs. Hemans—St. Mary’s Well—Conway Castle.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXV'>CHAPTER XXV.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bangor—Menai Straits, and a Trip to Caernarvon—Llanberis and Dolbardan—Caernarvon -Castle—The Eagle tower—Nant Ffrancon—Capel Curig—Corwen—Valle -Crucis—Llangollen—Miss Ponsonby and Lady Eleanor Butler.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXVI'>CHAPTER XXVI.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gypsies—The Man of Ross—Market day—Monmouth—Tintern Abbey in -a storm—A Vicar’s children—The Wind-cliff—Tintern in sunshine—The -Severn—Clifton, Bristol and St. Mary Redcliffe—Chatterton—Bristol Cathedral—Mrs. -Mason’s tomb—A dissenting minister—His charity.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXVII'>CHAPTER XXVII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Glastonbury—King Arthur’s coffin—Restorations at Wells—Ordination -at Bradfield—Solemnities of the Jubilee—Willis’s Rooms—A Centenarian—Speeches -at St. Martin’s Hall—The Archbishop in his Study—The Jubilee -Sermons—Samuel Warren.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXVIII'>CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jubilee-service at the Cathedral—A Lord Mayor’s Feast—Lord Glenelg—Eton -College—St. George’s Chapel and Windsor Castle—A Dame’s House—A -swim in the Thames—Hampton Court—Pictures and Cartoons—Hursley -Church, and the Poet Keble—Winchester School—St. Cross Hospital—Relics.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXIX'>CHAPTER XXIX.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Winchester Cathedral—Wykeham and Wayneflete—Cardinal Beaufort—Bishop -Fox—Stephen Gardiner—The Altar—Reliquary chests—Izaak Walton—An -American Vicar—His ingenuities—Salisbury Plain and Stonehenge—George -Herbert—Netley Abbey—The Isle of Wight—Portsmouth—Chichester—Brighton.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXX'>CHAPTER XXX.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>St. Augustine’s, Canterbury—Queen Bertha’s Church—The Patriarchal -Cathedral—Becket—The Black Prince—Archbishop Howley—The Dane -John—Drive to Borne—The Judicious Hooker—One of the Squirearchy—Rochester—Westminster -Archives—Chapel of Henry VII.—Grave of Addison—British -Museum—Richmond Hill—Thomson’s grave—Pope’s skull.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXXI'>CHAPTER XXXI.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Encænia at Oxford—The uproar—Bedford and John Bunyan—Fourth -of July—The gates of Caius—Comparison of the two Universities—Chancellor -Albert—Old Hobson—The Isthmus of Sues—Milton’s Mulberry—The -small Colleges—The Fitzwilliam—King’s College—Trinity.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXXII'>CHAPTER XXXII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ely Cathedral—Its beautiful restorations—Peterborough—The graves of -two Queens—A King of Spades—Lincoln and Bishop Grostete—The Cathedral—Jews’ -House—The City of Constantine—York Minster—Ripon—Fountains’ -Abbey—Durham—The Bishop of Exeter—The University—Newcastle—Amen -Corner.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXXIII'>CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Return from Scotland—Gretna Green—Carlisle—The Lakes—Windermere—Dr. -Arnold’s enthusiasm—An American Sunday and an English one—Grassmere—A -Poet’s Widow—A walk to Keswick—Cockney rhetoric—Derwentwater—A -Poet’s Sepulchre—Penrith—The Countess’ Pillar—Dotheboys -Hall—Rokeby—Kirkstall Abbey.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXXIV'>CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>A pilgrimage to Olney—Cowper’s services to Literature—Anti-Snobbery—Cowper’s -pedigree—A lace-maker—Olney bridge—The Summer-house—Weston-Underwood—The -Wilderness—Cowper’s Autograph and Adieu—The -Greek Slave—White-bait at Greenwich—The Prime Meridian—The -pensioners—Good-night.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote40em'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#ChapXXXV'>CHAPTER XXXV.</a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Return from the Continent—Despatches—England and Southern Europe—The -Sepulchre of Andrewes—Westminster by Candlelight—St. Bartholomew’s, -Moor-lane—The Anglican Reformers—Superficial views of -travellers—Dissent in England—Tithes—The late Recusancy—Newman -and the Dublin Review—The English Bible—Conclusion.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:2.0em;font-weight:bold;'>IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='ChapI'></a>CHAPTER I.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>First and Second Thoughts—A Warwickshire Welcome.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>About noon, one hazy April day, I found myself approaching -the British coast, and was informed by the Captain of our gallant -steamer, that in a few minutes we should gain a glimpse of -the mountains of Wales. Instead of rushing to the upper-deck, -I found myself forced by a strange impulse to retire to my -state-room. For nearly thirty years had my imagination been -fed with tales of the noble island over the sea; and for no small -portion of that period, its history and its institutions had been a -favorite subject of study. To exchange, forever, the England of -my fancy for the matter-of-fact England of the nineteenth century, -was something to which I was now almost afraid to consent. -For a moment I gave way to misgivings; collected and -reviewed the conceptions of childhood; and then betook myself, -solemnly, to the reality of seeing, with my own eyes, the land of -my ancestors, in a spirit of thankfulness for so great a privilege. -I went on deck. There was a faint outline of Snowdon in the -misty distance; and before long, as the mist dispersed, there, just -before us, was the noble brow of Holyhead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It reminded me of the massive promontory opposite Breakneck, -as we descend the Hudson, towards West Point: but the thought -that it was another land, and an old as well as an ancestral one, -strangely mingled with my comparative memories of home. -There is something like dying and waking to life again, in leaving -one’s home, and committing one’s self to such a symbol of Eternity -as the Ocean, and then, after long days and nights, beholding the -reality of things unknown before, and entering upon new scenes, -with a sense of immense separation from one’s former self. Oppressive -thoughts of the final emigration from this world, and descrying, -at last, “the land that is very far off,” were forced upon -me. We doubled the dangerous rocks of Skerries, and began to -coast along the northern shore of Anglesea: and then, with my perspective-glass, -I amused myself contentedly, for hours, as I picked -out the objects presenting themselves on the land. Now a windmill, -now a village, and now—delightful sight—a Christian spire! -It was night-fall when our guns saluted the port of Liverpool, -and our noble steamer came to anchor in the Mersey.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our voyage had been a very pleasant, and a highly interesting -one. Extraordinary icebergs had been visible for several successive -days, and had given us enough of excitement to relieve -the tediousness of the mid-passage. Our two Sundays had been -sanctified by the solemnities of worship; and the only mishap of -our voyage had been such as to draw forth much good feeling, -and to leave a very deep impression. One of the hands had been -killed by accidental contact with the engine, and had been committed -to the deep with the Burial Service of the Church, in the -presence of all on board. A handsome purse was immediately -made up for the surviving mother of the deceased; and the painful -event tended greatly to the diffusion of a fraternal sympathy -among the entire company. We became as one family: and -now, before retiring for the night, I was requested, by those who -remained on board, to offer a solemn thanksgiving to Almighty -God, for our safe deliverance from the perils of the sea. This it -gave me pleasure to do; and the words of the Psalmist rose in -our evening devotions, “Then are they glad because they are at -rest; and so he bringeth them unto the haven where they would -be.” The noble vessel in which we had accomplished our voyage -now lies many fathoms deep in the sea. It was the Arctic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On landing, in the morning, I inwardly saluted the dear -soil, on which I was permitted at last to place my feet, and on -which I could not feel, altogether, a foreigner. I ran the gauntlet -of tide-waiters, and the like, without anything to complain of, -and, after a bath at the Adelphi, made my way to St. George’s -Church. Here, for the first time, I joined in the worship of our -English Mother; though it was difficult to conceive myself a -stranger, until the expression—“Victoria, our Queen and Governor”—recalled -the fact that I was worshipping with the subjects -of an earthly Sovereign, as well as among my brethren of -the glorious City of God.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A letter awaited me at the Post Office, which invited me to -spend my rest-days with a dear friend. So, after a hasty survey -of Liverpool, which I did not care to inspect minutely, I took an -early evening train for Warwickshire, and was soon speeding -athwart highways, and through hedges, towards my friend’s abode. -Even my glimpses of England, from the flying carriage, were -enough to occupy my mind delightfully: and often did some -scene upon the road-side, or in the sprouting fields, recall incidents -of history, or passages of poetic description, which filled -me with emotion, and greatly heightened my preconceptions of -the pleasures before me, in the tour which I thus began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So it happened that my first night on shore was passed beneath -the roof of a pleasant English parsonage. My host had been, -for years, my correspondent, and though we had never met before, -we counted ourselves old friends. My bed-room had been -prepared for me, and furnished with such things, in the way of -books and the like, as, it was fancied, would suit my tastes. One -window overlooked the Church; and another, over the churchyard, -and its green graves, commanded a pretty view of the fields. -It was the Holy Week. I was waked every morning by the bell -for early prayers. The Bishop of W—— had sent me his -permission to officiate, and when I went to Church, it was always -as a priest of the One Communion. I was at home: as much -so as if I had lived, for years, in the house where I was a guest. -We kept the holy time together, and limited our diversions to -pleasant and somewhat professional walks. We visited, for example, -a parochial establishment, in which some twenty widows -were lodged, by the benevolent charity of an individual. Every -widow had her own little cottage, and the entire buildings enclosed -a square, in which was their common garden. There was -also a small chapel; and in each little home there was a text inscribed -over the fire-place, encouraging charity, forbearance, and -love to God. Here was a quiet Beguinage, built many years ago, -and never heard of: but there are many such, in England, dear -to God, and the fruits of his Church. I visited also a school -founded by King Edward Sixth; and having, on my first landing -at Liverpool, paid a visit to its Blue Coat Hospital, founded by a -prosperous seaman of the port, and furnishing a noble example to -all sea-port cities, I had seen not a little to charm me with the -religion of England, before I had been a week on her shores. -Our quiet walks through lanes and by-paths, were not less gratifying -in their way. The hedges and the fields, gardens and residences, -the farms and the very highways, were full of attractions -to my eye, and the more so, because my companion seemed to -think he could find nothing to show me! He knew not the -heart of an American, fond of his mother country, and for the -first time in his life coming into contact with old-fashioned things. -A heavy wagon, lumbering along the road to market, and inscribed, -“John Trott, Carrier, Ashby-de-la-Zouche”—was enough -to set me thinking of past and present, of the poetry of Ivanhoe, -and the prose of a market-wain; and when I saw a guide-post, -which for years had directed travellers “To Stratford,” only -twenty miles off, I could almost have bowed to it. A stage -coach came along, bearing “Oxford” on its panels; and the -thought that it had started that very morning from the seat of the -University, and had raised the dust of Stratford-on-Avon, made -its wheels look dignified. To enjoy England one must be an -American, and a hearty and earnest member of the Anglican -Church. Even the cry of “hot cross buns,” which waked me -on Good Friday morning, reviving the song of the nursery, and -many more sacred associations with the day, made me thankful -that I was no alien to the spirit of the solemnities, which even a -traditionary cry in the streets tends to fasten upon the heart and -conscience of a nation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Easter morning came at last, and I was up with the sun, and -out for a walk. It came with a bright sunrise, and many cheerful -notes from morning birds. I was confident I heard a lark -singing high up in the air, for though I could not see the little -fellow, I could not mistake the aspiring voice. His Easter Carol -was a joyous one, and I set it to the familiar words—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Christ, our Lord, is risen to-day,</p> -<p class='line0'>Sons of men and angels say!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>The hedges were just in leaf: here and there the hawthorn had -blossomed, but the weather was too cold for its silvery beauty; -and one almost pitied the few adventurous flowers, that, like good -Churchmen, seemed only to have come out in conscientious regard -to the day. I finished my morning walk by a turn or two -through the church-yard, every grave of which was sparkling -with dews, illuminated by the Easter sun. How forcibly the -scene represented the resurrection: “The dew of thy birth is of -the womb of the morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I entered the parsonage, I heard the bells chiming from a -distant parish church. My reverend friend met me with the salutation—“the -Lord is risen;” to which I could not but fervently -respond in the same primitive spirit. We had a festal breakfast, -after family prayers, and soon it was time for service. I could -willingly have been a worshipper in private, but submitted to the -authority of the parson, and became one of his curates for the -day. We emerged from the Vestry in due order of the Psalmist—“the -singers going before,” men and boys alike in surplices; -the latter with red cheeks, and white ribbons to tie their -collars, looking like little chubby cherubs, and when they lifted -their voices, sounding still more like them. The chancel was -neatly decorated; a few flowers placed over the altar, and an -inscription on its cloth, “I am the Bread of Life.” With the -choral parts of the service I was surprised, as well as delighted. -Boys and men all did their parts, in a manner which would have -done honor to the authorities of a Cathedral, and I observed that -the congregation generally accompanied the choir, especially the -children in the galleries. I had never before heard the Athanasian -Hymn as part of the regular Service, and I was greatly impressed -by its majestic effect. After the Nicene Creed, I ascended -the pulpit, and preached “Jesus and the Resurrection,” and then, -returning to the Altar, celebrated the <span class='sc'>Holy Eucharist</span>, according -to the English rite, administering to my reverend brethren -and the lay-communicants. To this high privilege I was pressingly -invited by the pastor himself, in token of entire communion -with the Church in America; and thus I was able to join my -personal thanksgivings for the mercies of a voyage, and my -prayers for my absent flock and family, to a public exercise of -the highest functions of my priesthood, at the altar of an English -Church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The many incidents of the day, which afforded me ever fresh -delight, might lose their charm, if reduced to narration, or might -strike the reader as proofs of my facility to be gratified. But I -cannot but mention that, strolling away, in the afternoon, to see -how service was performed at another Church, I was gratified to -find it filled with devout worshippers of the plainer sort, attentively -listening to a very excellent sermon, appropriate to the -day. While the preacher was warmly enlarging upon the promise -of a glorious resurrection, and I was quite absorbed in his -suggestions, I suddenly caught a glimpse, among the crowd of -worshippers, of a figure which startled me, as forcibly illustrative -of the words of the preacher, “thy dead men shall live.” It -was the recumbent effigy of an old ecclesiastic of the fifteenth -century, which I had not observed before. As if listening to the -preacher, in joyful hope, there it lay upon the tomb, hands -clasped placidly together, and looking steadfastly towards heaven! -How it seemed to join the hopes of the dead with those of the -living, and to give force to every word which fell from the pulpit -concerning the glory which shall be revealed in all those who -sleep in <span class='sc'>Jesus</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With Easter-Monday our holidays, in the school-boy sense, -began. My reverend friend proposed a visit to the Vicar, to -whose patronage he owed his own incumbency of the Chapel of -the Holy Trinity, in B——. Off we started on foot, passing -through the suburbs of a populous town, and finally emerging -into the open country. We came suddenly in sight of the old -Church of A——; its beautiful spire and gables admirably -harmonizing with the surrounding view, and telling a silent story -of long past years. Beyond it, a majestic avenue of elms disclosed -at its extremity a mansion of Elizabethan architecture and -date; not the less reverend in my associations for the fact that -Charles the First slept in it just before Edgehill fight, and that a -cannon-ball, still lodged in the stair-case, attests the perilous honor -which his Sacred Majesty was thus pleased to bestow on its -occupant. The solemn dignity of an old English residence of -this kind, had heretofore been to me a thing of imagination; now -it was before my eye, not a whit less pleasing in its reality. The -rooks were chattering in its venerable trees, which seemed to -divide their predilections about equally with the steeple; and I -am told that they are such knowing birds, that whenever you see -a rookery, you may be sure that there is both orthodox faith, and -at least one sort of good-living in the neighborhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Had I challenged my friend to show me a genuine Roger-de-Coverley -picture in real life, as the entertainment of my holiday, -I must have admitted myself satisfied with this scene at A——. -Not only did the old hall, and the church, in all particulars, -answer to such a demand; not only did a river run by the church-yard; -not only were fields beyond, with cattle grazing, corn -sprouting, and hedges looking freshly green; but when I entered -the church-yard gate, lo! a rustic party, in holiday trim, were -hanging about the old porch, awaiting the re-appearance of a bridal -train, which had just gone in. It wanted but the old Knight -himself and his friend the Spectator, to make the whole scene -worthy of the seventeenth century.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I entered the church, and found it in all respects just such an -interior as I had longed to see; apparently the original of many -a pleasing print, illustrating Irving’s “Sketch-Book” and similar -works, the delight of my childhood, and still affording pleasure -in recollection. Its ample nave, widened by rows of aisles, terminated -in the arch of a long chancel, at the altar of which -stood not only one matrimonial couple, but actually five or six, -whom two curates were busily uniting in the holy bonds of wedlock. -When the procession returned from the altar, they passed -into the vestry to register their names, and one of the curates -coming to the door of the church, found another group of villagers, -at the font, presenting a child for baptism. Following -my friend into the vestry, I was presented to the Vicar himself, -who seemed the <span class='it'>genius loci</span> in all respects; a venerable gray-haired -old gentleman, in his surplice, full six feet in stature, and worthy -to sit for a portrait of Dr. Rochecliffe, in Woodstock. It was now -time for service, and I was desired to robe myself, and accompany -him into the chancel, two curates, the clerk, and some singers -leading the way. I was put into a stall, marked with the name -of some outlying chapelry of the parish, and appropriate to its -incumbent when present. The chancel was filled with monuments, -of divers ages and styles. At my left hand lay the effigies -of a knight and his good dame, in Elizabethan costume; beyond -were a pair of Edward III.’s time; opposite were figures of -the period of Henry VI. and much earlier; the knights all in -armor, and some with crossed legs, as a token that they had -fought in Palestine. The service was intoned by one of the -curates, in a severe old tone, authorized in Archbishop Cranmer’s -time, which the Vicar afterwards assured me was very ancient, -and the only genuine music of the Church of England. When -the service was concluded, there was a churching to be attended -to, at the south porch of the church, and to this duty one of the -curates was deputed, while the Vicar himself detained us in the -chancel with an enthusiastic antiquarian illustration of the monuments, -to which I was a most willing listener. Here slept the -<span class='it'>de Erdingtons</span>, and there the <span class='it'>Ardens</span>: such and such was their -story; and such and such were the merits of the sculpture. -Chantrey had visited these figures, and assured him that they -were the finest in the kingdom; and if I imagined, at the time, -that such was merely Sir Francis’ courtesy to the worthy Vicar, -I hope I may be forgiven, for some subsequent acquaintance with -such things inclines me to believe the sculptor was sincere. On -the walls were the heavy tablets of the Hanoverian period, and -our attention was directed to the marked decline of art, from the -period of the Crusades down to the Georges, growing worse and -worse till George Fourth’s time, which improved the existing -style, and was succeeded by a period of rapid return to correct -taste and principle. Of all this the Church itself bore witness. -Here the worthy man pointed out marks of its various stages of -decline: here were barbarous repairs; there a sad blunder of old -Church-wardens; here a wanton mutilation of Hanoverianism in -1790, when the very worst things happened to the holy and beautiful -house; and there, at last, was a fine restoration of our own -times.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were next conducted to the church-yard, the Vicar having -doffed his surplice, and assumed his usual habit, which partook of -the dignity and taste of its wearer in a pleasing degree. His -hat was specially ecclesiastical, and turned up at the sides, and -over his cassock and bands he wore a clerical surtout, so that as -he strode over the graves, in his small-clothes, displaying a finely -proportioned leg, his entire figure might have been thought contemporary -with that of his brother of Wakefield. We now learned -the history of the Church, its great tithe, and its various plunderings -under successive bad kings. We viewed the tower and spire -from every possible point of vantage, and then went round the -walls to see where a window had been blocked up, or a doorway -broken through, or a pointed arch displaced for a square-headed -debasement of the Tudor period. I never found before so good -a “sermon in stones.” An ancient yew-tree was pointed out as -having afforded boughs, before the reformation, for the celebration -of Palm-Sunday. We adjourned to the Vicarage, where -luncheon was served in the Library, a room filled with the -choicest volumes; and then we were dismissed for a walk, promising -to return, for our dinner, at five o’clock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our road soon brought us to E ——, where a Romish Chapel -had been lately erected, by a man of fortune, in minute and extravagant -reproduction of Mediævalism. It was a thing for a -glass case; a piece of admirable art; a complete Pugin; and no -doubt in the middle ages would have been a very suitable thing -for its purposes; but, in our day, it seemed as little suited to -Rome as to Canterbury. The Pope himself never saw such a -place of worship, and would scarcely know how to use it; and it -was chiefly interesting to me as enabling me to see, at a glance, -what the finest old Parish Churches of England had been in the -days of the Plantagenets. At any rate, they were never Tridentine, -and they were always Anglican. This beautiful toy had a -frightful Calvary in the church-yard; but the interior was -adorned with the finest carvings in Caen stone, and brilliant colorings -and gildings <span class='it'>à la Froissart</span>. The pulpit was adorned with -the story of Becket, in very delicate sculpture, and around the -Church were stations, or representations of the different stages of -the Passion, carved elaborately in wood, and beautifully colored. -The Virgin’s Altar and Chapel were gems of art; and, of course, -replenished with striking proofs that they “worship and serve the -creature more than the Creator.” I turned away heart-sick, -that such unrealities of a dead antiquity could be employing the -whole soul of any Englishman, and even tempting some into -apostacy from the simple but always dignified Church of their -ancestors. Let taste be the handmaid of religion, and all is well: -but here was religion led captive by antiquarian fancy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many other objects of interest filled up our day. We made a -complete circuit, crossing green fields, leaping ditches, and breaking -through hedges. Up hill and down dell, and through fragrant -country lanes; here a river, and there a pool; now a farm, and -then a mill. Yellow gorse was in flower by the road-sides. We -met many parties of village people enjoying their Easter sports, -and dressed in holiday attire. This day, at least, it seemed merry -England still. We came to Witton Manor-house, and thence -caught a distant view of the spire, towards which it grew time -to return. Immense elms, of darker look than those of New-England, -beautified the view in every direction; and the landscape -was diversified by many smaller trees, marking the water-courses. -We came out, at last, by the old Hall, the exterior of -which we closely examined, imagining the scene around its gates -when the royal Stuart came to be its guest. Like many other -mansions of the olden time, it is deserted now; and the deepening -twilight in which we viewed it, harmonized entirely with the -thoughts which it inspired. So we returned to the Vicarage, -and again were warmly welcomed. At dinner we were presented -to Mrs. ——, the Vicar’s wife, who seemed to take the liveliest -interest in my country and its Church, and kindly to appreciate -my own enjoyment of the events of the day. After dinner -the Vicar lighted his long pipe, and continued his exceedingly -interesting discourse about the olden time. I could see that he -was no admirer of the Crystal Palace, and all that sort of thing. -I had met a <span class='it'>laudator temporis acti</span>, whose character and venerable -appearance gave him a right to lament the follies of our own age; -and seldom have I enjoyed more keenly any intellectual treat -than I did his arm-chair illustrations of past and present, as compared -together. On his favorite topics of Church-music and -Architecture he was very earnest and intelligent. The Northamptonshire -Churches, he assured me, were the finest in England; -and kindly introducing me to the <span class='it'>summa fastigia rerum</span>, he took -me to the very garret, to hunt up some superb plates of his favorite -localities. When I bade adieu to this Vicarage, it was as one -leaves an old friend. Such hospitality, and such heart afforded -to a stranger! Thus early had I found that old English manners -are not yet extinct, and that the fellowship of the Church -admits even a foreigner to their fullest enjoyment. It was eleven -o’clock when we reached the no less hospitable home from which -I started in the morning.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapII'></a>CHAPTER II.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Easter Holidays—Lichfield and Dr. Johnson.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>My reverend friend accompanied me to Lichfield, as our occupation -for Easter-Tuesday; kindly expressing his desire to have -a share in the enthusiasm, with which he justly imagined the first -sight of an ancient cathedral would inspire a visiter from America. -And although Lichfield is by no means one of the most impressive -specimens of English cathedral architecture, as it is small, -and not very well kept, I was very glad to begin my pilgrimage to -the cathedrals with this venerable Church, the see of the primitive -and apostolic St. Chad; the scene of some of the most severe -and melancholy outrages of the Great Rebellion; and the sacred -spot, in which some of the earliest and most durable impressions -were made upon the character of the truly great Dr. Johnson. -Familiar with all I expected to see, so far as books and engravings -could make me so, it was thrilling to set out for my first visit to -such a place, and I was obliged to smother something like anxiety -lest the reality should fall far below anticipation. How would it -strike me, after all? I was to tread, at last, the hallowed pavement -of an ancient <a id='minster'></a>minster, in which the sacrifices of religion had -been offered for centuries, and occupying a spot which had been -drenched with the blood of primitive martyrs; I was to join in -the solemn chant of its perpetual services; I was to go round -about its walls, and mark well its bulwarks, and survey its -towers, and to trace the tokens of those who had once set up -their banners there, and broken down its carved work with axes -and hammers, and defiled the place of its sanctuary. No English -mind, to which ancient things have been familiar from birth, -could possibly have appreciated my inward agitation at the prospect -of such a day; and, as I took my seat in the train, I could -not but wonder at the indifference of my fellow-passengers, to -whom <span class='it'>booking</span> for Lichfield was an every-day affair, and whose -associations with that city were evidently those of mere business, -and downright matter-of-fact.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three spires, crowning the principal towers of the Church, -soon came in sight, and beneath its paternal shadow were clustered -the humbler roofs of the town. How like a hen gathering -her chickens under her wings, is a true cathedral amid the dwellings -which it overshadows, and how completely is its true intent -set forth by this natural suggestion of its architecture! I had -never, before, seen a city purely religious in its <span class='it'>prestige</span>, and I -felt, as soon as my eyes saw it, the moral worth to a nation of -many such cities scattered amid the more busy hives of its industry. -On alighting, I could not but remark to my companion, -the still and Sabbath-like aspect of the city. “It is generally -so,” he answered, “with our cathedral towns; they are unlike all -other places.” This is their reproach in the eyes of the economist; -but such men never seem to reflect that the cathedral -towns owe their existence to the fact they are such, and would, -generally, have no population at all, but for their ecclesiastical -character. Why can they not see, besides, that such a place as -Lichfield is as necessary to a great empire, as a Sheffield? It -bred a Johnson—and that was a better product for England than -ever came out of a manufactory of cotton or hardware. Probably, -just such a mind could have been reared only in just such a -place. “You are an idle set of people,” said Boswell to his -master, as they entered Lichfield together. “Sir,” replied the -despot, “we are a city of philosophers: we work with our <span class='it'>heads</span>, -and make the boobies of Birmingham work for us with their -<span class='it'>hands</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But here at length is the cathedral, and service is going on! -A moment’s survey of its western front, so old, so enriched with -carvings and figures, so defiant of casual observation, and so -worthy of careful study—and we pass inside—and here is the -nave, and the massive and dim effect of the interior—somehow -not all realized at once, and yet overpowering. We reach the -choir, and a verger quietly smuggles us within. After a moment’s -kneeling, we observe that the Epistle is reading, and the -service about to close. In a few minutes my first impressions of -worship in a cathedral are complete, and they are very unsatisfactory. -I had reached the sanctuary too late for the musical -parts of the solemnity, and there was rather a deficiency than an -excess of ceremonial, in the parts I saw. A moment’s inspection -convinced me that Lichfield Cathedral is, by no means, over-worked -by its Dean and Chapter. Alas! I said to myself, what -we could do with such a foundation in my own city, in America! -We might have such a school of the prophets as should be felt in -all the land: we would make it the life of the place; the seat of -perpetual preachings, and prayers, and catechizings, and councils; -a citadel of power to the faith, and a magazine of holy armor -and defences for the Church. Why do not these worthy Canons -wake up, and go to work, like genuine sons and successors of -St. Chad?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We now went the rounds of the Church, with the stupid -verger for our orator, and I began to experience the intolerable -annoyance complained of by all travellers. “Oh, that he might -hold his tongue! We know it—we know it—only let us alone, -and here’s your shilling”—said my inmost heart, a score of times, -but still he mumbled on. He was most impressive in detailing -the exploits of the Puritans: here they hacked, and there they -hewed; this was done by Cromwell’s men—when they broke -into the old Bishops’ sepulchres; and that, when they hunted a -cat, with the hounds, through the nave and aisles. Here they -<span class='it'>tooted</span> with the broken organ pipes, and there the soldiers -mounted the pulpit, and preached <span class='it'>à la Woodstock</span>. They went so -far as to cut up their rations of flesh meat on the altar, and they -baptised a calf at the font; but, enough; mine eyes have seen -that there were such men in England two hundred years ago, and -oh, let us pray that we may not deserve such judgments again. -It was refreshing to stop before the tomb of Bishop Hacket, and -to thank <span class='sc'>God</span>, who put it into his heart to be a repairer of the -breach. The Bishop had his failings, but what he did for his -cathedral should cover a multitude of sins, if he had so many. -He was the man who, during the worst scenes of the rebellion, -was threatened by a soldier with instant death, unless he desisted -from the prayers which he was then offering, in the Church of -St. Giles, Holborn, and who answered, calmly, “you do what -becomes a soldier, but I shall do as becomes a priest,” and so -went on with the service. At the Restoration, being already -three-score and ten, he was appointed to this See. He found the -cathedral almost a ruin; thousands of round shot, and hand-grenades -had been fired upon it; the pinnacles were battered to -pieces, and the walls and spires seemed ready to fall, while the -interior was a mass of filth and desolation. The very next day -after his arrival, he set his own horses to work in clearing away -the rubbish, and for eight years he devoted his wealth and labor, -and made perpetual efforts among the zealous laity of the kingdom, -to achieve and pay for the restoration of the Church, which -he thus accomplished. Finally he reconciled the holy place by -a solemn ceremonial, and re-instituted the services. When he -heard the bells ring, for the first time, being then confined to his -bed-chamber, he went into another room to hear the sound; but, -while he blessed <span class='sc'>God</span> that he had lived to enjoy it, said it was his -knell, and so, soon after, died like old Simeon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We paused before the busts of Johnson and Garrick, and the -monuments of Miss Seward and Lady M. W. Montague, and -also before a monument lately erected to some soldiers who perished -in India, over which the flags of their victories were displayed. -The kneeling figure of the late Bishop Ryder is pleasing -and appropriate; but the object of universal attraction is the -monument of two children, by Chantrey, so generally known -and admired in prints and engravings. I cannot say that the -style of this monument comports well with the surrounding architecture, -but in itself it is beautiful, and bespeaks that sentimental -love of children for which the Church of England has made the -English people remarkable, beyond other Christian nations. The -epitaph is a sad blemish, but the reposing Innocents make you -forget it. So simple and sweet is their marble slumber, which, of -itself, speaks “the Resurrection and the Life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cathedral-close is open and spacious, and one gains a very -good view of the architecture, on all sides of the exterior. I sat -down beneath some trees, at the eastern extremity of the Church, -and for a long while gazed at the old stones, from the foundation -to the topmost spire. They told of centuries—how mutely eloquent! -All was so still that the rooks and jackdaws, chattering -in the belfries, supplied the only sounds. There was the bishop’s -palace at my right, the scene of Anna Seward’s bright days, and -of some of Dr. Johnson’s happiest hours. The ivy almost covers -its modest but ample front. The close is a little picture of itself; -too much, perhaps, like the swallows’ nests, around the altar, in -the warm and inactive contentment with which it must tend to -surfeit any but the most conscientious of <span class='sc'>God’s</span> ministers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On one side of the cathedral is a pretty pool, and altogether, -in this point of observation, it presents a beautiful view. Swans -are kept in this water, and go oaring themselves about, without -that annoyance from boys and vagabonds, which prevents their -being kept in public places, in our country. They came familiarly -to us, and even followed us a long distance, as we walked -on the margin of the pool, as if doing the honors of the place -to ecclesiastical visitors. We now took a walk through the -meadows, to Stowe, distant about half-a-mile, and presenting -another pleasant picture, with its old, but beautiful parish-church. -Here we found tokens of that work of Church restoration which -is going on throughout all England, and which will make the age -of Victoria enviably famous with future generations. The little -Church was in perfect keeping, throughout; severely plain, but -strictly Anglican, and full of reverend simplicity. There were -some pews in the Church, but the new sittings were all open, and -apparently free. We looked with some interest at the monument -of Lucy Porter, daughter of the lady who afterwards became the -wife of Dr. Johnson. Hard by the Church is the well of St. -Chad, to which I next paid a visit, and from which I was glad -to drink. It is twined with roses, and neatly arched over with -masonry, on which is chiselled CE. EP.—that is, <span class='it'>Ceadda Episcopus</span>, -and here, in the seventh century, the holy man lived and -baptized. St. Chad, though a Saxon by birth, was in British -orders, of the primitive ante-Gregorian succession, and held the -See of York, until his own humility, and the Roman scruples of -the Archbishop of Canterbury, transferred him to Lichfield, -where he lived the life of an apostle, and from which he itinerated -through the midland counties, very often, on foot, in the -spirit of a truly primitive missionary. It was with exceeding -veneration for the memory of his worth and piety, that I visited -this scene of his holy life, and blessed <span class='sc'>God</span> for the mercies which -have issued thence, even to my own remote country. Such are -the world’s true benefactors: the world forgets them, but their -record is with <span class='sc'>God</span>; and He will make up His jewels yet, in the -sight of the assembled universe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Returning, we had the cathedral before us, all the way, in truly -delightful prospect. I observed the birds that darted across our -path with peculiar pleasure, and could not but remark that the -sparrows were John Bull’s own sparrows, having, in comparison -with ours, a truly English rotundity and plumpness, which should -no doubt be credited to the roast-beef of Old England, and to -good ale, withal, or to something equivalent in the diet of birds. -We now took a turn into the city, and first, went to see the -house, in a window of which Lord Brooke was seated when he -received the fatal bullet from the cathedral. It seems a great -distance for such a shot; and this fact heightens the peculiarity -of the occurrence. There is a little tablet, fixed in the wall, -recording the event. As it took place on St. Chad’s day, and as -the shot was fired by a deaf and dumb man in the tower, putting -out the eye with which the Puritan besieger had prayed he might -behold the ruins of the cathedral, and killing him on the spot, it -is not wonderful that the providence was regarded as special and -significant. Sacrilege has been dangerous sport ever since the -days of Belshazzar. It was a more gratifying occupation -to seek next the birth-place of Dr. Johnson, with which -pictures had made me so familiar, that when I came suddenly -into the market-place, I recognized the house and St. Mary’s -Church, and even the statue, all as old acquaintances. The pillars -at the corners of the house give it a very marked effect, and -one would say, at the outset, that it must have a history. It is -not unworthy of such a man’s nativity. The Church in which -the future sage was christened is almost directly opposite; and as -I came in view of it, I looked for its projecting clock, and found -it, just as I had seen it in engravings. The statue of Dr. Johnson -is placed in the market square, just before the house in which -he first saw the light. It was the gift of one of the dignitaries -of the cathedral to the city. Did poor Michael Johnson, the -bookseller, ever console his poverty and sorrows, as he looked -from those windows on a stormy day, with visions of this tribute -to the Christian genius of his son? Perhaps, just where it -stands, he often saw his boy borne to school on the backs of his -playmates, in triumphal procession; and this incident of his -childhood is now wrought into the monumental stone. In another -bas-relief, he is seen as a child of three years old, perched -on his father’s shoulder, listening to Dr. Sacheverel, as he -preaches in the cathedral. In a third is illustrated that touching -act of filial piety, the penance of the sage in Uttoxeter market. -For an act of disobedience to his poor hard-faring father, done -when he was a boy, but haunting him through life with remorse, -the great man went to the site of his father’s humble book-stall -in the market-place, and there stood bare-headed in the storm, -one rainy day, bewailing his sin, and honoring the lowliness of -the parental industry which provided for the wants of his dependent -years. What moral sublimity! worthy indeed of a memorial, -and doubtless recorded in the book of the Lamb that was slain to -take away his sin!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Opposite St. Mary’s, and next door to the birth-place, we -found the “Three Crowns Inn,” where Johnson chose to stay, -with sturdy independence, when he visited Lichfield, refusing -even the hospitalities of Peter Garrick. I suppose the room in -which we lunched was the scene of another instance of true -greatness in Dr. Johnson, who, with the dignity of a gentleman, -entertained here a friend of his humbler days, “whose talk was -of bullocks,” and whose personal appearance was by no means -agreeable, but to whose tiresome volubility, in things of his own -profession, the sage extended the most patient and condescending -attention. We could not but drink our mug of ale to the memory -of the immortal old man of ten thousand honest prejudices, -and as many virtues; in whom “has been found no lie,” and who -has made his own massive character, in some respects, the ideal -of a genuine Englishman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We visited the hospital and Church of St. John Baptist, a -charitable foundation of an old Bishop of Lichfield, who was -also a munificent benefactor of Brazen-nose College, at Oxford. -It is a queer, out-of-the-way, little blessing, of the sort which -attracts no attention, but which bespeaks a Church at work -among the people, of the like of which England is full. I was -much pleased with this fragrant little flower of charity, for such -it seemed, hiding, like the violet, out of sight, but heavenly when -discovered. The Church of St. Michael, Green-hill, next attracted -me, standing on an eminence, and crowning it with a -conspicuous tower and spire. An avenue of venerable elms leads -to its portal, and I found it open. The font, which is a relic of -very high antiquity, has lately been restored to its place; and -nearly the whole of the nave is a late restoration. Here, then, -is another proof of the revival of primitive life and zeal in the -Church of England! And all so truly national; Anglican and -yet Catholic; consistent with self, and with antiquity, and attesting -a continuous ecclesiastical life, from the days of Ceadda, -and his predecessors, until now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Evening Service at the cathedral was far more gratifying -than the morning’s experience had led me to anticipate. The -evening sun streamed through the windows of the clere-story -with inspiring effect, and the <span class='it'>Magnificat</span> quite lifted me up to the -devotional heights I had desired to attain, in such a place. Then -came the anthem, suitable to Easter-week—“Worthy is the -Lamb that was slain.” How amiable the beautiful and holy -place in which such strains have been heard for ages! In passing -through the streets, on my way home, I saw one of the popular -sports of the Easter-holidays, peculiar to the midland -counties, and a relic of the many frolics in use before the Reformation. -Some buxom lasses were endeavoring to <span class='it'>lift</span>, or -<span class='it'>heave</span>, a strapping youth, who, in no very gallant style, repelled -the embraces and salutations of his female aggressors. I take it -for granted, however, that he was not released until he had been -handsomely lifted into the air, and made to purchase his freedom -by a substantial fine. This is a custom confined, of course, to -the vulgar—but even among them, according to my judgment, -“more honored in the breach than in the observance.”</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapIII'></a>CHAPTER III.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Birmingham—The Oratory—Newman.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Going up to London, I tarried for a few days at Birmingham, -a town not pleasing to my fancy, and yet one which no tourist in -England would choose to omit. I found it, indeed, as Leland -described it three hundred years ago, “to be inhabited of many -smithes, that use to make knives, and all manner of cutting -tooles: and many lorimers, that make bittes, and a great many -naylors; so that a great part of the town is maintayned by -smithes who have their sea-coal out of Staffordshire.” To this, -I cannot help adding, in the style of old Fuller, that “there be -divers many also who do make buttons; and a great store of all -things gilt, and showy, and not costlie nor precious withal, do -come out of Brummagem; for which also the new bishoppes -which Cardinal Wiseman did lately make therein, be commonly -called the Brummagem hierarchie, that is to say, not so much -Latin bishoppes as <span class='it'>Latten</span> bishops; latten being much used in -Brummagem, and is made of stone of calamine and copper, or -chiefly of <span class='it'>brass</span>.” I confess that good part of my interest in -Birmingham proper was to see what this new hierarchy were -about.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Town-Hall has been often enough described and praised, -and is, no doubt, very fine; but I did not go to England to see -Grecian temples, and I took much more satisfaction in any old -frame house of three centuries ago, than in the frigid and formal -show of all its columns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the whole, I think King Edward’s Grammar School the -most interesting object in the town. Though the buildings were -erected very lately, they are in the true academic style of Cambridge -and Oxford. The pile is massive and imposing, and I was -pleased to find that the solid oak of its noble rooms is the production -of American forests. Here I first saw how English boys -are made scholars; the drill being obvious to even a moment’s -glance; every motion and look of the masters, who walk up and -down among the boys in their college gowns, implying a discipline -and method, of which our schools are too commonly destitute. -Queen’s College is also worthy of a visit, and I was much pleased -with some of the pictures which I saw in its hall, among which -was an old one of Mary Queen of Scots, representing her with -her child, James Stuart. Who ever conceived of Mary as a -motherly creature, or of the old pedant king as an unbreeched -boy? Yet such were they in this painting, which was no doubt -true, as well as beautiful, in its time. With the churches of -Birmingham I was not particularly impressed. St. Martin’s, the -“old paroch-church” of Leland’s day, scarcely retains any remnant -of its ancient self, except the spire, which leans, and seems -likely to fall. The sovereign hill of the town is surmounted by -St. Philip’s, which ought to be a cathedral, and the seat of a -school of the prophets, but which looks like nothing more than a -plethoric Hanoverian temple, in which indolent and drowsy -worldliness would be content to say its prayers not more than -once a week. I was better pleased with a church in the suburbs, -built in George Fourth’s day, and partaking both of the merits -and defects of that period of transition, when the church was -in palmy prosperity as “the venerable establishment.” Here -first I saw an English funeral, evidently of one of the humbler -class, all parties walking on foot, and the coffin carried on a bier. -The curate met the procession at the gate, in his surplice and -cap, and then reverently uncovering his head, led the way into -the house of <span class='sc'>God</span>, the consoling words of the service gradually -dying on my ear, as the rear of the funeral train disappeared -within. The parsonage is close at hand, an ecclesiastical looking -house of most appropriate and pleasing aspect; and the abode, as -I can testify from personal knowledge, of the true spirit of an -English parish priest—such an one as Hooker and Herbert would -have rejoiced to foreknow. In his Church the prayers are perpetual; -the fire never going out on the altar, and its gates standing -open, as it were, night and day. The vicinity is known as -“Camp Hill,” for here was the furious Rupert once in garrison; -but a queer old house, all gables and chimneys, is pointed out, -upon the hill, as the former lodging of his redoubtable adversary, -old Noll himself. Hence we stretch into the country, and gain -those pleasant extremes of Warwickshire, which Leland noteth, -not forgetting the return by Sandy Lane, through “Dirty End,” -which, since the days of his chronicle, is euphuized into Deritend. -This place is full of what the Brummagem Cardinal -would call <span class='it'>slums</span>, and one of them, as if on purpose to affront a -portion of my countrymen, displayed to my astonishment, on a -street sign, the name of “New-England.” Did any returned -pilgrim settle down here, and give the last retreat of his poverty -this name?</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Born in New-England, did in London die,”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>is a well-known epitaph, which may possibly explain this circumstance; -for, said Dr. Johnson, “who that was born in New-England, -would care to die there,” or words to that effect. Yet -I confess, for life or death, I have scarcely seen any place in our -own New-England which would not be preferable to this, although -Leland calls Dirty End “a pretty street with a mansion of tymber -hard on the bank of a brook, with a proper chapel close by.” -Here I stopped before the aged front of the “Old Crown Inn,” -which I take to be the same “tymber” mansion, having all the -odd corners, and juttings-forth, and quaint appurtenances of centuries -long gone by. These out-of-the-way ramblings and -searches were far more to my taste than the gaudy sights of the -shops and manufactories.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went out to Oscott, and took a survey of the enemy’s headquarters, -to begin with. Here Tridentinism shows her best front, -and yet it falls far below what I had been led to expect. The -college is built of brick, but is prettily situated, and commands a -fine view from the leads, to which I ascended, for a prospect of -the surrounding country. There is little architectural merit in -any part of the structure, and the general appearance of things, -throughout, is below that of collegiate institutions in England, -or on the Continent. I was pleased, however, with the rooms -set apart for ecclesiastical visitors, so far as their furniture was -suitable to offices of private devotion, and not merely to those of -rest and recreation; and I was not sorry to see in the Library -a pretty large selection of standard English divines, though I am -painfully suspicious that they are not there to be freely used by -all who would read and study them. The chapel is gaudy, yet in -true Mediæval character, and somewhat impressive. The other -rooms are labelled—<span class='it'>pransorium</span>, <span class='it'>deversorium</span>, and the like, or surmounted -with the names of the divers arts, as <span class='it'>Rhetorica</span>, <span class='it'>Dialectica</span>, -and so on. In the common-room are showy portraits of -the chiefs of the Romish recusancy in England, some of whom -look like saints, and some like Satan. There was a portrait of -Pugin, to which I directed the attention of the official who -served as guide. He sneered significantly, and said Pugin was a -queer fellow, which meant that they had found him not so blind -as they wished him to be, to his fatal mistake in joining them. -He studied Mediæval Anglicanism, with the illusion that it was -all one with modern Tridentinism, and had left his mother Church -in the vain hope that he should find a more congenial sphere for his -antiquarian tastes, among the English Papists. But he found -the past even more absolutely ignored at Oscott than at Oxford. -Anglicans are glad to retain all that may be safely retained of -their own antiquity: but Romanists are Italian throughout, and -any thing that is national, is schismatical. They know nothing -of Augustine and little of Anselm; they date from Trent, and to -that all must conform. Old liturgies, old customs, old principles, -as he in vain tried to recommend them, they laughed at as utterly -obsolete: and he in turn scoffed at their Romanesque, and their -Oratorianism, as infinitely less Catholic than the Anglican Gothic, -and the Anglican Prayer-Book. Poor fellow! he has since died -in a mad-house—a noble genius, but the victim of theory, and of -unreal conceptions as to the diseases and the cure of the times.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If I was disappointed at Oscott, much more at St. Chad’s, their -new cathedral in Birmingham. So much was said about this -attempt, that I had supposed it a <span class='it'>chef d’œuvre</span> of the architect, -and a complete trap for <span class='it'>dilettanti</span> Anglicans. It is the reverse of -all this, being so poor, and even niggard in its entire conception -and execution, that I am sure it must be a spoiled Pugin, if his -at all. It is of brick, and of small dimensions, and not cleanly. -Its crypts are instructive as to the way in which the crypts -of the old cathedrals were formerly used, being fitted up for -masses for the dead, but not much adorned. They are damp, -dark, and somewhat offensive, as they are used for burial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Strolling out to Edgbaston, I saw the rising walls of Newman’s -Oratory. This, too, is strictly conformed to his new Italian idea -of religion, which scrupulously eschews the old English architecture, -associated as that is with Magna Charta and the Constitutions -of Clarendon, and with three hundred years of absolute independence. -This is in strict agreement with his <span class='it'>development</span> theory. -The Romanism of the <span class='it'>present</span> is the rule, and that is Italian: the -past was immature and undigested, and hence savored, more or -less, of nationality. How vastly more severed, then, from the -historical antecedents of his country is the British papist, than -the genuine Anglican!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While I was in Birmingham, Mr. Newman yet occupied his -temporary Oratory, in the neighborhood of Camp-Hill. It was -an old distillery, and, of course, was but an ill-looking place for -worship. Wishing to see him and his sect, I went one day to -the spot, and pushing aside a heavy veil at the door, such as is -common in Italian churches, found myself in a low and dirty-looking -place of worship, in which the first object that met my -eye was an immense doll of almost ludicrous aspect, near the -door, representing the Virgin, with the crescent beneath her feet. -Bishop Ullathorne proves Mohammed to have been the first believer -in the Immaculate Conception, so that we cannot but admit -the propriety of the symbol. Before this image several youth, with -broad tonsures, and in long cassocks, were kneeling, in a manner -truly histrionic. One of them rose and asked if I would like to -be shown the library, and so conducted me up a dark and narrow -stair-case into a large apartment, in which were no books, but -which appeared to be hung with baize, like the rooms of an -artist. He informed me that the books were <span class='it'>in petto</span>, and would, -by and by, be manifested; apologizing for the present deficiency.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A person, in like costume with my conductor, and with a -shaven crown even more grotesque, was pacing to and fro in the -room, apparently devoting himself to a book which he held in -hand. At a question of mine, addressed to my guide, as to where -Mr. Newman might be, this personage turned sharply round and -answered, “he has been all day in the Confessional, where he -would be glad to see <span class='it'>you</span>.” “Who is that person?” I demanded, -looking towards the strange apparition, as he continued pacing -up and down, and addressing my guide. “Father Ambrose,” -was the reply. “Yes, but what is his name beyond the walls of -the Oratory?” The young man, rather reluctantly, lisped out, -“Mr. S——.” “Mr. S——,” I rejoined, “late of —— -College, Oxford! Can it be possible?” I looked at him, utterly -unable to conceal my surprise, and pitied him in my heart. The -youths whom I had seen were doubtless all, like him, young men -of promise and of parts only a few years since, in Oxford; and -now to see them thus ignobly captive, and performing such unreal -and corrupting dramatics, in an age of wants and works, and of -awful realities, like this! But where was the <span class='it'>ignis fatuus</span> of the -bog into which they had fallen? Inquiring for their Master, I -was informed he was to preach in their chapel on a certain -evening, and accordingly I attended at the appointed time. It -was during the Octave of Easter, and on entering, I observed -that the altar was a bank of flowers, looking more like the shelves -of a conservatory, than the table of the Lord. Above this horticultural -display towered a thing of wax and glass and spangles, -(or what seemed to be such,) as the apparent divinity of the -shrine. It was a shameful burlesque of the Virgin, and utterly -incompetent to excite one religious or reverent thought in any -mind not entirely childish, or depraved in taste. It was surrounded -with tawdry finery, and looked like the idol of a pagoda. -The room was well lighted, and filled with the sort of people -usually frequenting Romish chapels in this country. A few well-dressed -persons seemed to be strangers, and like myself were -treated with great civility. The chancel was filled with the -youths I had seen before, wearing over their cassocks the short -jacket-like surplice, usual in Italy. These were offering some -prayers in English, but they could not be called English prayers; -and then followed a hymn, given out and sung very much in the -style of the Methodists. I could not distinguish what it was -altogether, but the hymn-book which they use was given me in -Birmingham, and consists, in a great degree, of such ditties as -this, which they apparently address to the image over the altar:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“So age after age in the Church hath gone round,</p> -<p class='line0'> And the Saints <span class='it'>new inventions</span> of homage have found;</p> -<p class='line0'> <span class='it'>Conceived without sin</span>, thy new title shall be</p> -<p class='line0'> A new gem to thy shining, sweet Star of the Sea!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Many hymns in the collection are not only lack-a-daisical in the -extreme, but highly erotic, and even nauseously carnal. I could -scarcely believe my eyesight, so senseless seemed the ceremony; -and yet here were educated men, Englishmen, sons of a pure and -always majestic Church, and familiar with the Holy Scriptures -from their infancy! How shall we account for such a phenomenon -in the history of the human mind, and of the human soul?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While the singing was going on, a lank and spectral figure appeared -at the door of the chancel—stalked in, and prostrated -himself before the altar. This was followed by a succession of -elevations and prostrations, awkward in the extreme, and both -violent and excessive: but whether required by the rubric, or -dictated by personal fervor only, they added nothing to the solemnity -of the scene. Meanwhile the hymn was continued by -the disciples, as fanatically as the pantomime was performed by -the Master. But could this be the man? Could this be he who -once stood in the first pulpit of Christendom, and from his watch-tower -in St. Mary’s, told us what of the night? Was this the -burning and shining light who for a season allowed us to rejoice -in his light? What an eclipse! I felt a chill creep over me as -he mounted his rostrum, and turned towards us his almost maniacal -visage. There could be no mistake. It was, indeed, poor fallen -Newman. He crossed himself, unfolded a bit of broad ribbon, -kissed it, put it over his shoulders, opened his little Bible, and -gave his text from the Vulgate—<span class='it'>Surrexit enim, sicut dixit</span>—“He is -risen, <span class='it'>as he said</span>.” The preaching was extemporaneous; the -manner not fluent; the matter not well arranged; gesticulations -not violent nor immoderate; the tone, affectedly earnest; and -the whole thing, from first to last, painfully suggestive of a sham; -of something not heartily believed; of something felt to be unreal -by the speaker himself. And yet “the hand of Joab was in -it.” There was no denying the craft of no common artist. He -dwelt chiefly on <span class='it'>Sicut dixit</span>—to which he gave a very Newman-like -force, repeating the words over and over again. -“<span class='it'>Sicut dixit</span>, my friends, that is, <span class='it'>as he said</span>, but as you would not -believe! This was a reproach: as much as to say—<span class='it'>What did -you expect? Were you not told as much? Of course, he is risen, -for he said so!</span>” In this way the preacher reached the point of -his discourse, which was, that “the original disciples themselves, -who thought they knew and loved <span class='sc'>Christ</span>—nay, who did love -him, and came to embalm his body, after he was crucified—had -so little faith, as to deserve a rebuke, instead of a commendation. -They had to be harshly reminded of what Jesus had said to them -with his own mouth. Well, <span class='it'>just so in our day</span>, thousands who -think they know and love him, have yet no real faith; don’t believe, -in short, what the Church requires them to believe, and -hence are strangers to the Catholic faith.” Drawing illustrations -from the days of Noe (so he called him) and many Old Testament -histories, he endeavored to show, in like manner, that <span class='sc'>God</span> -had always required men to believe the very things they were not -willing to believe: and hence he drew his conclusion that the -slowness of men to believe all that Romanism prescribes, is mere -want of faith. It would have been quite to the point to have -shown a <span class='it'>sicut dixit</span> in support of the matters which he endeavored -to force upon us, before he asked us to admit that denying the -“Deification of Mary,” is all the same thing as doubting the -Resurrection of <span class='sc'>Christ</span> from the dead; but of course this joint -was wanting. I was amused at the ingenuity, but shocked at the -juggle of such an argument, which was simply this—that because -it is sinful to doubt what <span class='sc'>Christ</span> has said, therefore it is equally -sinful to doubt what <span class='it'>he never said</span>, and what is directly contrary -to many things which he did expressly say! The orator, in delivering -this apology for his new faith, by no means forgot a little -plea for himself personally, in which I saw evidence of his -wounded pride. He said, “<span class='sc'>Christ</span> thus sent a rebuke to his disciples -for not believing what he said; and you know how hard it -is, for even us, to bear such unbelief in our friends. <span class='it'>We know -we are sincere</span>; but they say, for example, <span class='it'>he is artful, he don’t believe -his own words, he deceives</span>; or, if they don’t say that, then -they say, <span class='it'>he is crazy, he is beside himself, he has lost his wits</span>.” On -this he enlarged with much feeling, for he was pleading his own -cause, and in fact he rambled on in this direction till he had -nearly forgotten his argument. But I was amused at one instance -of his forgetting himself in particular. In referring to the -hard names <span class='sc'>Christ</span> himself had to bear, he had occasion to quote -St. Matthew xxvii., 63, where the Romish version reads, “Sir, we -have remembered that that seducer said, yet living, <span class='it'>etc.</span>” But before -he knew it, he forgot that he was an actor, and unwittingly quoted -the smoother rendering of his good old English Bible, “Sir, -we remember that that deceiver said while he was yet alive.” -While dwelling on the words <span class='it'>that deceiver</span>, he bethought himself -that he was quoting heresy, and hobbled as well as he could into -some other equivalent, but whether the very words of his new -Bible or not, I cannot affirm. There were other similar haltings -of the tongue, which show that a man may have a good will to -say the Romish Shibboleth, and yet betray himself occasionally, -by “not framing to pronounce it right.” Newman certainly forgot -the talismanic aspirate on this occasion; he seemed to be conscious -of playing a part, and, altogether, when he had done, I -left the place, contented to have done with him. Alas! that gold -can be thus changed, and the fine gold become so dim!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not learn that he was doing much by all his efforts; in -fact he was said to be somewhat crest-fallen and irritable, about -things in Birmingham. His Oratorians were going about the -streets in queer, and, in fact, ridiculous garments, and attracting -stares and jibes, and no doubt they felt themselves martyrs; but -there is, after all, much sturdy common sense in John Bull’s hatred -of the absurd, and few can think any better of folly for wearing -its cap in broad daylight. The results <span class='sc'>God</span> only can foresee; -but a delusion so patent, one would think—if it must have its -day—must also find daylight enough in the very shortest day in -the year to kill it outright.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They showed me, at the Oratory, a wax cast of the face of St. -Philip Neri, and a very pleasant and benevolent one it was. He -was an Italian Wesley, and the Pope was his bitter adversary, in -his life-time, interdicting him, and refusing him the Sacraments, -and almost excommunicating him. But somehow or other when -he was out of the way, it became convenient to canonize him, as -a sort of patron of enthusiasts of a certain class, who find in his -fraternity, a free scope for their feelings and passions. Oratorianism -is the Methodism of the Trent religion, but has a virtual -creed of its own, and is as really a sect as Methodism was in the -life-time of its founder. Hence it is odious to many even of the -new converts, and many old-fashioned Romanists abhor it. I -left the Oratory of Mr. Newman with a deep impression that he -has yet a remaining character to act, very different from that in -which he now appears, but in which it will be evident that he is -far from satisfied, at this time, with the direction which he has -given to his own movement, and with the grounds on which he -has chosen to rest his submission to the Pope.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapIV'></a>CHAPTER IV.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Arrival in London, and first two days.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>In early life I had always promised myself a first view of London, -either approaching the Tower by water, and taking in the -survey of steeples, bridges, and docks, or else descending from -Hampstead, on the top of a rapid coach, and beholding the great -dome of St. Paul’s, arising amid a world of subordinate roofs, -and looming up through their common canopy of cloud-like -smoke. Alas! for all such visions, we have reached the age of -the rail: and, consequently, I found myself, one afternoon, set -down in a busy, bustling station-house, with a confused sensation -of having been dragged through a long ditch, and a succession of -dark tunnels, and with a scarcely less confused conception of -the fact, that I was in London. A few policemen loitering about, -and a line of cabs and ’busses of truly English look, confirmed -the conviction, however, that I was really in the Metropolis, and -I soon found myself looking up my luggage, in the business way -of one accustomed to the place, and without a single rapture or -emotion of the marvellous. Some things were very different -from an American station-house; as, for example, the dignity of -an ecclesiastical gentleman emerging from the first-class carriages -in cocked-hat, and solemn cravat and surtout, his short-clothes -eked into pantaloons by ponderous leggings, buttoned about his -black stockings, and his whole deportment evincing a reverend -care of his health and personal convenience—the inevitable -umbrella especially, neatly enveloped in varnished leather, and -tucked under the consequential arm; or again, the careful avoidance -of the crowd evinced by a dignified lady, accompanied by -her maid, and watching with an eye-glass the anxious manipulations -of a footman, in showy livery, piling up a stack of trunks, hat-boxes, -and what not, all inscribed, “Lady Dashey, Eaton Place, -Belgrave Square.” Getting into a cab, with my very democratic -luggage safely rescued from the vans, and forcing an exit through -vehicles of all ranks, from the dog-cart up to the lumbering coach, -with footman behind, and my lord inside, I emerge at length into -London streets from the Euston Square Station, and begin to -make my way towards the focus of the world. How mechanically -I jog along, just as if I had lived here all my life, and without -the least conformity to the fact that my pulse is quickening, -and mine eye straining to realize a long ideal, which in a few minutes -will be substantial fact! Every street-sign arrests my eye, -“Paddington New Road,” “Gower Place,” “Torrington Square,” -“Keppell Street,” “Bedford Square,” “Great Russell Street,” -“Bloomsbury,” “Bond Street,” “Seven Dials,” “St. Martin’s -Lane,” and now I begin to know where I am. There is St. Martin’s—there -the lion with a long tail on Northumberland House—here -is Trafalgar Square—I see Charles First on horseback, at -Charing Cross—and here old George Third, with his queue, at -the head of Cockspur Street—and here the Haymarket and Pall -Mall, and here I am set down at the hospitable door of a friend, -first known in America, and who has kindly insisted on my -spending my first few days in London as his guest. It was an unexpected -pleasure, but a great one, to receive my first impressions -of London in the agreeable company of the Reverend Ernest -Hawkins, a person singularly qualified to share the feelings -of a stranger, but upon whose valuable time I should not have -ventured to trespass, except at his own friendly instance. After -renewing the acquaintance, formed during his short visit to our -country in 1849, the question was, Where shall we begin? A -fine day was already clouded over, and alternate light and shade -were inviting and again discouraging out-door amusements. However, -a turn through St. James’s Park to Whitehall was practicable -enough, and at Whitehall I was resolved to begin. Forth -we go, step into the Athenæum Club House, and descend into the -Park, by the Duke of York’s Column, descrying through the -mist the towers of Westminster Abbey, and soon passing through -the Horse-Guards, stand “in the open street before Whitehall.” -There is the Banqueting-room—there the fatal window—here is -the very spot, where the tide turned between old and new, and -parted on an axe’s edge. That martyrdom! What that has -happened in Church and State, not only among Anglo-Saxons, but -in the greater part of Europe, since 1649, has not resulted from the -deed of blood done here!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My kind friend took me out upon Hungerford Bridge, and bade -me use my eyes, and tell the different objects if I could. I turned -towards Lambeth, saw the old towers through the gray mist, and -began with indescribable pleasure to single out St. Mary’s, Lambeth, -the New Parliament Houses, Westminster Hall, the Abbey, St. -Margaret’s, and so forth, till turning round, I descried St. Paul’s, -(vast, sublimely so, and magnificently tutelary,) and nearer by, -Somerset House and the bridges, and the little steamers shooting -to and fro beneath their noble arches. Enough for a first glimpse! -We went into Regent Street, and by Burlington Arcade into Piccadilly, -and turning into St. James’s Street, I first saw the old -Palace at its extremity, looking just as one sees it in Hogarth’s -picture of “the Rake going to Court,” in the last century, old -and shabby, and venerable altogether. Such was my first ramble -in London and Westminster.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was so happy as to meet at dinner that evening, a small party -of the clergy of the Metropolis, in whose company the hours went -rapidly and delightfully by, with many warm, and, I dare say, -heartfelt expressions of interest in America and her Church; the -whole presided over by my reverend entertainer, with the most -animating spirit of dignified cordiality. The general desire which -prevails to know something of a new Bishop of the Church, may -excuse my particularizing the Rev. John Jackson, Rector of St. -James’s, Westminster, and Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen, -who was one of the party, as a person of very unassuming, but -attractive manners, of whose subsequent elevation to the See of -Lincoln, it has given me no little pleasure to learn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With what a world of new and confused emotions, I tried to -drop to sleep after such a day! The roof beneath which I was -reposing was an historic one. Standing in the precincts of St. -James’s, it had once been the abode of the beautiful but unhappy -Nell Gwynne, the one of all those wretched creatures who -disgraced the Court of the Second Charles, for whom one feels -more pity than scorn; and for whom, remembering the comparative -goodness of her natural qualities, and her own plaintive -lament over her education in a pot-house to fill glasses for drunkards, -there must have been compassion from the Father of Mercies, -and possibly pardon from the blood that cleanseth from all -sin, her penitent death being more than probable. It is certainly -gratifying that a mansion once given up to such associations is -now turned into an abode of piety and benevolence, and made the -head quarters of the operations of the venerable S. P. G. In the -chamber where I was lodged, had lately rested those estimable -missionaries, Bishops Field, and Medley, and Gray, and Strachan; -and I felt unworthy to lay my head where such holy heads had -been pillowed. But a blessing seemed to haunt the spot which -they, and many like them, had reconciled to virtue, and hallowed -by their pure repose; and I slumbered sweetly, dreaming of Lud’s -town, and King Lud, and of divers men of divers ages, who had -come to London, upon manifold errands, to seek their fortunes -there, and there to flourish and wax great, or to rise and fall, -until now it was my lot to mingle with its living tides, and then -to pass away again to my far-off home, as “a guest that tarrieth -but a night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I rose in the morning, I looked out into the park, and -now for the first time, gained a clear idea of that strange scene -described in Evelyn’s Memoirs, as occurring between King -Charles and Mistress Nelly, while the grovelling monarch was -walking with him in the Mall. The wretched woman was standing -on a terrace, at the end of her garden, and looking over into -the park, when the king turns from Evelyn, and going towards -her, holds a conversation with her in that public place and manner. -“I was heartily sorry at this scene,” says the pure-minded -journalist; and indeed it forboded no little evil to both Church and -nation, as well as to the miserable Prince who could thus debase -his crown and character, in the face of the open day, and of a -virtuous man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, having a whole day before me, I began by attending -divine service in Westminster Abbey. Through the park and -Birdcage-walk, I went leisurely to old Palace Yard, passing round -the Abbey and St. Margaret’s, and so entered by <a id='poet1'></a>Poets’ Corner. -Service was going on, and of course I gave myself as much as -possible to its sacred impressions, but was unable to repress some -wandering thoughts, as my eyes caught the long lines and intersections -of nave and aisles, or turned upwards to the clere-story, -where the smoky sunlight of a London morning was lingering -along the old rich tracery and fret-work, to which every cadence -of the chaunt seemed to aspire, and where just so, just such sunbeams -have come and gone as quietly over all the most speaking -and eventful pageants of the British Empire, since William First -was crowned here, in the midst of those Norman and Saxon antagonists -whose blood now runs mingled in the veins of the British -people. Nay, we must send back our thoughts at least so far -as Edward the Confessor, who was also crowned here, and whose -sepulchre is hard at hand. What thoughts of human splendor, -and of human nothingness! The anthem was—<span class='it'>Awake up my -Glory</span>—and as it rose and fell, and tremulously died away, distributing -its effect among innumerable objects of decayed antiquity, -I seemed to catch a new meaning in the strain of the psalmist. -How many tongues were mute, and ingloriously slumbering around -me—the tongues of poets and of princes and of priests: but the living -should praise the Lord in their stead, and in this place that humbles -the glory of men, it was good to sing—“Set up thyself, oh <span class='sc'>God</span>, -above the heavens, and thy glory above all the earth.” When -the service was over, I preferred to leave the Abbey, with this -general effect still upon me, and to take it, at some other time, in -details: and so, with only a few glances at the familiar objects in -<a id='poet2'></a>Poet’s Corner, I passed thoughtfully through the choir, which is -extended down the nave, and so into the south aisle, and out into -the cloisters. I took passing notice of the Andre monument, and -of the Thynne monument, which I recognized by their sculpture -alone. I saw at once that I was not likely to be satisfied with -such ill-placed memorials, interesting as they may be in themselves. -In the cloisters, I was so fortunate as to meet Lord John -Thynne; and on being introduced to his Lordship, and remarking -that “I remembered very well his connection with the Abbey, as -Sub-dean, from Leslie’s Picture of the Coronation,” (in which -he bears the chalice, as the Archbishop gives the Bread of the -Sacrament to Queen Victoria,) he courteously suggested that -perhaps I might think it worth while to look at the coronation -robes, which are not usually seen by visitors, but which were in -his custody, and which he should be happy to have me see. His -Lordship then led the way into the famous Jerusalem Chamber, -a place not ordinarily shown, but full of interest, not only as the -scene of the swooning of Henry Fourth, but as the seat of the -Holy Anglican Synod, which has since revived, (“Laud be to God,”) -in the same Jerusalem where Henry died. This place is by no -means such as my fancy had led me to suppose, but has the air of -having been remodeled in James First’s time, although an ancient -picture of Richard Second—I think in tapestry—is sunk in the -wainscot. The chamber is small, and of very moderate architectural -merit, but must always be a place of deep and hallowed associations. -Adjoining this is the Refectory of the Westminster school-boys, -into which we were shown, and where his Lordship reminded -us that the tables were made of the oak of the Spanish Armada. -They were full of holes, burned into them by the Westminster boys, -who are always ambitious each to “leave his mark” in this way: -so that as you look at them, you may fancy this to have been -burned by little George Herbert, or Ben Jonson, or John Dryden, -or Willie Cowper, or Bob Southey—all of whom have, in their -day, sat on the forms of Westminster. Until so late as 1845, -this refectory was warmed by the ancient brazier, the smoke -escaping through the <span class='it'>louvre</span> in the roof. On coming to the Deanery, -Dr. Buckland reformed this ancient thing, and a very ugly stove -now reigns in its stead, as a monument of the Dean’s <a id='util'></a>utilitarianism -and nineteenth-century ideas on all possible subjects.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After we had carefully inspected this interesting hall, Lord -John was as good as his word, and took us to see the robes, but -precisely where he took us, it would be hard for me to say. It -was in some room contiguous, where a fidgety little woman with -keys in her hands, attended as mistress of the robes, and opening -the repository of the sacred vestments, displayed them with such -profound obsequiousness to the mildly dignified ecclesiastic who -conducted us, that if she called him “my lord” once, she did so -some twenty times in a single minute. The readers of Mrs. -Strickland’s “Queens of England” will not require me to enlarge -upon these superb vestments, now dimmed and faded in their -splendour by the lapse of nearly two centuries, since they were -made for the coronation of the luckless, and almost brainless, -James the Second. They are worn at coronations only, by the -clergy of the Abbey, and we had the pleasure of seeing our reverend -guide in his appropriate cope as Sub-dean; the same which -he wore when Victoria was crowned, and which has been worn -by his predecessors, successively, at the coronations of William -and Mary, Queen Anne, the four Georges, and William the Fourth. -Similar vestments in form, though not in splendour, are to this -day the rubrical attire of the clergy of the English Church in -celebrating the Holy Communion, but I believe they are now -never used, although they were in use at least in Durham Cathedral, -so late as the middle of the last century. Having seen -these interesting and historical vestments, we thanked the amiable -dignitary, to whom we had been indebted for so much polite attention, -and took our leave, emerging into Dean’s Yard, and so finding -our way to the New Houses of Parliament.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapV'></a>CHAPTER V.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Sight-seeing—Westminster Hall.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>My emotions on first entering Westminster Hall, were scarcely -inferior to those excited by the Abbey. Of course my first glance -was towards the oaken roof, whose noble span, and elaborate construction, -have been so largely eulogized, but which derives a richer -glory than its material one, from the moral sublimity of the historic -events, to which its venerable shadow has been lent. Beneath -this roof the Constitution of England has steadily and majestically -matured for centuries; and to this spot belongs the -somewhat mysterious credit of an assimilating power, akin to that -of digestion in the human system. Whatever has been the food, -it has always managed to turn it into wholesome nutriment, and -to add it to the solid substance of the British State in the shape -of bone and sinew, or of veins and nerves. It has been the scene -of violence and outrage, and of both popular and imperial tyranny. -No matter! Out of all this evil has always come substantial -good. The roof dates from Richard Second’s time; and scene -the first is the usurpation of the fiery Bolingbroke. Here rose up -that daring subject, amid astounded bishops and barons, and -crossing himself broadly on the breast, profanely uttered the -famous bravado—“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, -and of the Holy Ghost, I, Henry of Lancaster, do challenge this -reaume of Englande”—adding mysterious words, from which it is -equally difficult to say on what grounds he did or did not rest his -claims. Here old Sir Thomas More forfeited his head, for high -treason against “the best of princes,” as he had long called old -Harry Eighth; and here sat old Hal himself, at Lambert’s trial, -interrupting every fresh rejoinder of the reformer, with the savage -assurance—“Thou shalt burn, Lambert!” I looked towards -the great window beneath which he sat—and, lo! it was no longer -a window, but an open way, just constructed for access to -the New Houses of Parliament—a noble alteration, and a very -speaking symbol too, in my opinion; for thus, in the path of history, -and from the seat of law, will the future Senate of the Empire -go to their responsible labors as stewards of the noblest inheritance -that exists among mankind. Let them think, as they -pass, of Strafford and of Charles; how in suffering and sorrow -they contributed to the British people that distinguishing element -of loyalty, which has rendered healthful their not less characteristic -love of liberty. Too many, I fear, imbued with the superficial -views of Macaulay, invest with sublimer associations the fanatical -Court which tried and condemned their Sovereign. Here sat -those bold, bad men; and daring, indeed, was their work; nor do -I doubt that it has been over-ruled for good to England; but then -it should not be forgotten, that the subsequent history of progressive -and rational freedom is far more directly the result of the -wholesome resistance opposed by Church and Crown to the -spirit of anarchy, than to anything in that spirit itself. Had the -King of England been a Bourbon—had the Church of England -been a Genevan or a Roman one, that flood must have washed -all landmarks away: and the fabric of Constitutional Liberty, -which now attracts the admiration of all thinking men, could -never have been constructed. Honour, then, to the martyrs -of Law and of Religion, who, beneath this roof, built up the -only barrier that has turned back the turbulent waves of modern -barbarism! I stood, and thought of Charles, with sorrow for his -grievous faults, but yet with gratitude for the manly recompense -he offered here to a people whom he had unintentionally injured -through their own antiquated laws, but whom he defended against -the worse tyranny of lawless usurpation, by his majestic protest -in this Hall, and by sealing it with his blood. Here, too, the -seven bishops delivered the Church and State of England when -they stood up against the treacherous son of Charles, and completed -the triumph of the Church by proving it as true to the people, -as it had been to the throne, on the same foundation of immutable -principle. This was the roof that rang with the shouts -of vindicated justice, when those fathers of the Church were set -free! I looked up, and surveyed every beam and rafter with -reverence. The angels, carved in the hammer-beams, were looking -placidly down, each one with his shield upon his breast, like -the guardian spirits of a nation, true to itself and to ancestral -faith and order. The symbol is an appropriate one; for the frame-work -of the British Constitution is like this roof of Richard in -many respects, but in none more than this—that the strength and -beauty of the whole are fitly framed together, with inseparable features -of human wisdom and of divine truth; the latter being always -conspicuous, and investing all with reverend dignity and grace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The floor of the old Hall presents a less sentimental aspect, and -might easily plunge imagination, by one step, into the ridiculous. -Here are the barristers walking about with clients, and with each -other, arm in arm, their gray wigs of divers tails, some set awry, -and some strongly contrasted with black and red whiskers, giving -them a ludicrous appearance; while their gowns, some of them -shabby enough, are curiously tucked under the arm, or carelessly -dangling about the heels, apparently an annoyance to the wearers, -in either case. The several courts were in session, in chambers -which open out of the hall, along its sides. I stepped into the -Chancellor’s Court, where sat Lord Truro, listening, or perhaps -<span class='it'>not listening</span>, to the eminent Mr. Bethell. His Lordship in his -walrus wig, with a face proverbially likened to the hippopotamus, -seemed to represent the animal kingdom, as well as that of which -the mace and seal-bag, lying before him, were the familiar tokens. -The court-room is very small, popular audiences being not desirable, -and open doors being all that popular right can require. -Here the same barristers looked far from ludicrous—their attire -seemed to fit the place and its duties. Doubtless the influence of -such things is an illusion, but nevertheless it is a useful one, and -contributes to the dignity, which it only appears to respect. We -need some such things in our Republic. Next I stepped into the -Vice-Chancellor’s Court, and saw Sir J. L. Knight Bruce administering -the law; and here I was introduced to several eminent lawyers, -whose cauliflower wigs covered a world of learning and of grave -intelligence. Stepping into the Common Pleas, there sat in a row, -Lord Chief Justice Jervis, and Justices Creswell, Williams and -Talfourd. I could not but look with interest at the author of Ion, -but in the disguise of his magistracy, I looked in vain for any feature -which I could identify with his portraits. In the Court of -Queen’s Bench, Lord Campbell was presiding, with three others; -in the Bail Court, I saw Justice Coleridge; and in the Court of -Exchequer, Lord Chief Baron Pollock, with Barons Park, Platt -and Martin. Thus, with the greatest facility, and in a very short -space of time, can one see the most favoured sons of the British -Themis, and gain a good idea of the dignity and close attention -to business with which these courts are managed. The Supreme -Court of our own country, is far inferior in appearance, although -it is the only American Court which admits of any comparison -with these, and yet it is allowed on all hands, that “the law’s delay” -in England is an intolerable grievance, and that the expense -of obtaining justice, at these tribunals, is of itself a crying injustice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sallying forth into the street, I went round to view the rising -splendours of the Victoria Tower, the massive proportions of -which almost dwarf those of the Abbey. It confuses the beholder -by the elaborate richness of its details, its profuse symbolism, -and all the variety of its heraldic and allegorical decoration. -When completed, it will give a new, but harmonious aspect, to -the acres of sacred and princely architecture which spread -around; but these English builders are very slow in its construction, -and prefer that it should rise only ten feet a year, rather -than hazard its chance of continuing forever. How differently we -<span class='it'>go ahead</span> in America! This new palace of Westminster will still -be many years in finishing, but it is worthy of the nation to let it -thus grow after its own fashion. Alas! one fears, however, that -it is to be made the scene of the gradual taking down of the nation -itself. It is too likely to prove the house in which John -Bull will be worried to death by his own family.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In company with a friend, I next “took water” at Westminster -bridge, for a trip down the river. This <span class='it'>silent highway</span> is now as -busy as the Strand itself—the spiteful little steamers that ply up -and down, being almost as numerous and as noisy as the omnibusses. -Very swiftly we glide along the river’s graceful bend, passing Whitehall, -Richmond Terrace, and the house lately occupied by Sir Robert -Peel; shooting under Hungerford bridge, past old Buckingham -house, and the Adelphi Terrace, and so under Waterloo bridge, -to the Temple Gardens, where we land, and where I find myself -delighted with the casual survey of the different walks and -buildings, and especially with the Temple Church. Emerging into -Fleet-street, choked with carts and carriages, here is Temple-bar! -Passing under its arches, we are in the Strand, and so make our -way to Charing-Cross. Having made a complete circuit, by land -and water, I again went to Westminster bridge, and stepping into -a steamer sailed up the river to Chelsea. Here we pass the river-front -of the New Houses of Parliament; and granting that there -is a monotony of aspect in the long stretch of the pile, as it rises -from the water, I think it must be allowed that, when complete, -with its towers and decorations, the whole, taking the Abbey also -into view, will furnish the noblest architectural display in the -world. Westminster bridge should be reconstructed, in harmony -with the rest, and then, whoever may find fault with the scene, -may be safely challenged to find its parallel for magnificence and -imperial effect.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet looking to the other side of the river, how far more -attractive to my eye were the quiet gardens and the venerable -towers of Lambeth! Its dingy brick, and solemn little windows, -with the reverend ivy spreading everywhere about its walls, -seemed to house the decent and comely spirit of religion itself: -and one could almost gather the true character of the Church of -England, from a single glance at this old ecclesiastical palace, -amid the stirring and splendid objects with which it is surrounded. -Old, and yet not too old; retired, and yet not estranged from men; -learned, and yet domestic; religious, yet nothing ascetic; and dignified, -without pride or ostentation; such is the ideal of the Metro-political -palace, on the margin of the Thames. I thought as I -glided by, of the time when Henry stopped his barge just here to -take in Archbishop Cranmer, and give him a taste of his royal -displeasure: and of the time when Laud entered his barge at the -same place, to go by water to the Tower, “his poor neighbours of -Lambeth following him with their blessings and prayers for his -safe return.” They knew his better part.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We had a fine view of Chelsea Hospital, and passed by Chelsea -Church, famous for the monument of Sir Thomas More. We -landed not far from this Church, and called upon Martin, whose -illustrations of Milton and “Belshazzar’s Feast” have rendered -him celebrated as a painter of a certain class of subjects, and in a -very peculiar style. He was engaged on a picture of the Judgment, -full of his mannerism, and sadly blemished by offences -against doctrinal truth, but not devoid of merit or of interest. -He asked about Allston and his Belshazzar, and also made inquiries -about Morse, of whose claim as the inventor of the Electric -Telegraph, he was entirely ignorant. Returning, we landed -at Lambeth, and my friend left his card at the Archbishop’s; observing, -as we passed into the court, that we should find the door -of the residence itself standing open, with a servant ready to receive -us, as we accordingly did. Such is the custom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We then crossed Westminster bridge, and went to Whitehall, -on foot, visiting the Banqueting-room, now a royal chapel. The -Apotheosis of James the First, by Rubens, adorns the roof, but I -tried in vain to be pleased with it. The first question—“which -is the fatal window through which King Charles passed to the -scaffold”—I asked quite in vain, for nobody seems to be entirely -sure about it. The chapel is heavy, and unecclesiastical, although -more like a sanctuary, in appearance, than the Sistine Chapel in -the Vatican. We went into the court, or garden behind the -Banqueting-house, to look at James Second’s statue, by Grinling -Gibbons. It is in Roman costume, and defiled by soot and dust, -and the peculiar pointing position of one of its hands, has given -currency to a vulgar error, that it indicates the spot where the -blood of Charles fell from the scaffold. A soldier mounts guard -in this place, for it is yet regarded as a royal palace; all beside is -quiet, and I often returned to the spot during my residence in -London, as one well fitted for meditation, recalling such historical -associations as memory retained, and striving in vain to conceive -it possible that here, in very deed, such thrilling scenes were enacted -two hundred years ago. Even now there is nothing ancient -about the looks of Whitehall. It requires an effort to connect it -at all with the past: and when one sees the vane upon its roof, -and imagines it the very one to which James Second was always -looking, while he prayed the Virgin and all the Saints to keep -William of Orange off the coast, even the era of 1688 seems reduced -to a modern date, and stripped of all its character as -something ancestral, and belonging to past time. I confess that -in this garden of Whitehall, I awoke from an American illusion, -and began to feel that two centuries is a very short period of -time; just as afterward, on the Continent, the scale took another -slide upwards, and taught me to feel that everything is modern -which has happened since the Christian era. This discovery -gives one a curious sensation, and I am not sure that I am the -happier for having seen monuments of real antiquity, which have -had the effect of freshening the comparative antiquity of England, -and of reducing everything in America to the dead level of time -present. I was happier when I visited the ruins of the old Fort -on Lake George, and innocently imagined it a spot both ancient -and august.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My reader will think my day sufficiently full already, but I -must not conclude without some reference to the pleasures of the -evening. I drove out to Chelsea, where the pupils of St. Mark’s -Training College performed the Oratorio of “Israel in Egypt.” -The hail-stone chorus was given with great effect, and several of the -solos and recitatives were creditably executed. I saw there, among -others, Lord Monteagle, better known as Mr. Spring Rice, but was -more pleased with an introduction to the head of the College, Mr. -Derwent Coleridge, who showed me a very striking portrait of his -father—“the rapt one of the godlike forehead,” and made some -feeling allusions to his brother Hartley, then lately dead. I saw -also another member of this interesting family, Sara Coleridge, one -of the cleverest of womankind. Returning to London, I stepped -from the carriage at Hyde Park Corner, where chariots and -wheels of every description were still rumbling incessantly, and -where the gas-lamps made it light as day, though it was now -eleven o’clock. I looked at Apsley-house, where the Iron Duke -was then living, and so made my way along Piccadilly and St. -James’s-street, as pleasantly as if I had known them all my days, -but thinking such thoughts as nothing but an American’s earliest -experiences of London life can possibly inspire.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapVI'></a>CHAPTER VI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Hyde Park—Excursion to Oxfordshire.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>My plan was to fix my head-quarters in London, and to make -excursions thence into the various parts of the country which I -desired to see. This enabled me to choose my times for being in -the Metropolis, and also for visiting other places; and I found it -better, on many accounts, than the more usual method of seeing -London all at once, and then going through the rest of England in a -tour. I took lodgings in Bury-street, St. James’s, a time-honored -place for the temporary abode of strangers, and in all respects -convenient for my purposes. On looking into <span class='it'>Peter Cunningham</span>, -I found I had unwittingly placed myself near the old -haunts of several famous men of letters. Dean Swift lodged in -this street in 1710, and Sir Richard Steele about the same time. -Crabbe took his turn here in 1817, and here Tom Moore was -sought out by Lord Byron, a few years earlier. Just round the -corner, in Jermyn-street, Gray used to sojourn; and there, too, -Sir Walter Scott lodged for the last time in London, after his -return from the Continent in 1832. Hard by, still lives old Samuel -Rogers, and Murray’s famous publishing-house is but a few steps -out of the way. I was, at first, a little provoked at <span class='it'>Cunningham</span> -for getting up a book which tends to put the most stupid visitor of -London on a footing with the man whose general reading has -fitted him to enjoy it: but many little pleasures which he thus -supplied me, by recalling things forgotten, quite altered my humour -towards him; especially as I soon reflected that the traveller -to whom he only restores such information, must always have the -advantage over one who gains it for the first time, at second -hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could now step into St. James’s Park, and freshen my appetite -for breakfast, while enjoying its delightful air, and venerable -associations. I soon learned how to protract my walk, passing -Buckingham Palace, up Constitution Hill, and so into Hyde -Park—where one may spend the day delightfully, and almost -fancy himself in the country. Indeed, stretching one’s rambles -into Kensington Gardens, it is not easy to be moderate in the enjoyment, -or to return without fatigue; so vast is the extent of these -successive ranges, and so much of England can one find, as it were, -in the midst of London. Oh, wise and prudent John Bull, to ennoble -thy metropolis with such spacious country-walks, and to sweeten -it so much with country air! Truly these lungs of London are -vital to such a Babylon, and there is no beauty to be compared to -them in any city I have ever seen. Talk of the Tuilleries—talk -of the <span class='it'>Champs Elysées</span>—you may throw in <span class='it'>Luxembourg</span> and <span class='it'>Jardin -des Plantes</span> to boot, and in my estimation Hyde Park is worth the -whole. I do not think the English are half proud enough of -their capital, conceited as they are about so many things besides. -They are ashamed of Trafalgar Square and some other slight mistakes, -and they always apologize for London, and wonder -what a foreigner can find to please him, in the mere exterior of -its immensity. But <span class='it'>foreigner</span>, forsooth! I always felt that an -Anglo-American may feel himself far more at home in London, -than many who inhabit there. Who are the reigning family, but -a race of Germans, never yet completely naturalized either in -Church or State? What is England to Prince Albert, except as -he can use it for his own purposes? But to me, and to many of -my countrymen, it is as dear as heart’s blood; every fibre of our -flesh, every particle of our bone, and the whole fabric of our -thought, as well as the vitalizing spirit of our holy religion, being -derived from the glorious Isle, in whose own tongue we call -her blessed. It is not as unfilial to America, but only as faithful -to the antecedents of my own beloved country, that I ask no -Englishman’s leave to walk the soil of England with filial pride, -and in some sense to claim “a richer use of his,” than he himself -enjoys. He dwells in it, and uses it of necessity for some ignoble -purposes; but I have no associations with the malt-tax, or with -manufactories. England reveals herself to me only in her higher -and nobler character, as the mother, and nurse, and glorious preceptress -of the race to which I belong. Hence, I say, it is only -a true American who can feel the entire and unmixed sentiment -and poetry of England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was soon after my arrival in the Metropolis that I went, one -afternoon, to see the display of horsemanship, in Hyde Park. -Strange that the scene of so much aristocratic display should be -known as “Rotten-Row!” It is a road for saddle-horses exclusively, -and very exclusive are the equestrians generally, who enjoy -their delightful exercise in its pale. Here you see the best of -horse-flesh, laden with the “porcelain-clay” of human flesh. -The sides of the road are lined with pedestrians, some of whom -touch their hats to the riders, and are recognized in turn; but most -of them look wishfully on the sport of others, as if they were conscious -that they were born to be nobody, and were unfeignedly sorry -for it. Ha! how dashingly the ladies go by, and how ambitiously -their favored companions display their good fortune in attending -them! Here a gay creature rides independently enough, with -her footman at a respectful distance. She is an heiress, and the -young gallants whom she scarcely deigns to notice, are dying of -love for her and her guineas. Here comes an old gentleman and -his two beautiful daughters. It is Lord ——, and the elder of -the twain is soon to be married, the fortunate expectant being a -nobleman of large estates. We look in vain this afternoon for -“the Duke.” But very likely we shall see him before our walk -is done. Yonder whirls a barouche, with outriders. It is the -Queen and Prince Albert taking an airing. A Bishop comes -along on horseback. “It must be one of the Irish Bishops,” -said the friend with whom I was walking, “for I certainly have -never seen him before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I now saw the Crystal Palace for the first time, and scarcely -looked at it at all. It was just what every body knows, from ten -thousand pictures. I had a prejudice against it, at this time, -heightened by the fact that many, whom I had met, had innocently -taken it for granted that an American must, of course, -have come to England to see the show. The idea of going to -England to look at anything short of England itself! Besides, I -supposed it a mere toy of Prince Albert’s—just the thing for a -Dutch folly—or, like the Russian ice-palace,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>————“Work of imperial dotage,</p> -<p class='line0'>Shining, and yet so false!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>I looked, therefore, and passed by. A fine walk we had to -Kensington Gardens, and round by Bayswater, returning across -Hyde Park. It was pleasant to see the good use to which these -vast grounds are put by the People proper. Children and their -nurses seem to take their fill of them. It was George the Second, -I think, who asked Walpole what it would cost to fence in -St. James’s Park, so as to keep the people out. “Only <span class='it'>three -crowns</span>,” was the reply; and the heavy Hanoverian learned an -important lesson, as to the difference between British freemen, -and the sort of people he had been wont to deal with, in his -darling Electorate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One morning I attended a meeting of the Venerable S. P. G. -The estimable Bishop of Bangor presided, and the ordinary -monthly business was despatched. On this occasion, I was so -happy as to meet with Lord Lyttleton, Mr. Beresford Hope, and -others, whose names are familiar to American Churchmen, as -identified with zeal and devotion to the noble work of Evangelization. -The American Church, and her relations with her nursing -Mother, were frequently alluded to; and, as an act of -Christian recognition, I found myself admitted a corresponding -member of the Society. Though I could not suppose the compliment -a personal one, designed as it was in honor of the Orders -of our Church, I felt it no small privilege to receive this humble -share in the noble organization to which, under God, our Church -owes its existence; and I felt it the more, as being myself the -descendant of a lowly but devoted Missionary, who died in the -service of the Society. I was pleased with the earnest, but very -quiet and affable spirit of this meeting. No show, nor swelling -words; and yet the spiritual interests of empires, and of national -Churches, present and yet to be, the fruits of the Society’s labors, -were deeply and religiously weighed, and dealt with. Beautiful -tokens of the Society’s fruitfulness hung round the walls—portraits -of English Missionary Bishops, such as Heber, and Selwyn, -and Broughton. These are its trophies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My first excursion into the country was made somewhat earlier -than I had forecasted, in accepting a kind invitation to Cuddesdon, -from the Bishop of Oxford. This promised me the double -pleasure of an immediate acquaintance with Oxford itself, and of -a no less agreeable introduction to the eminent prelate, whose elevation -to that See has so highly served the dearest interests of the -Church, not in England only, but also throughout Christendom. -The name of Wilberforce has received new lustre in the person -of this gifted divine; and certainly there was no one in England -whom I more desired to see, for the sake of the interest inspired -by public character and by published works. His known hospitality, -and interest in visitors from all parts of the world, relieved -me from surprise in receiving this unexpected attention, and I -felt sure I should experience no disappointment in indulging the -confidence and affection inspired by such cordiality. Arriving in -Oxford, I threw myself into a cab, and set off for the Bishop’s -residence, about eight miles distant—taking a drive through -High-street, in my way. Every object seemed familiar; I could -scarcely believe that I was, for the first time, looking at those -venerable walls. Here was St. Mary’s—here All Souls—here -Queen’s—and there is the tower of Magdalen. Even “the Mitre” -and “the Angel” looked like Inns, in which I had often “taken -mine ease.” A few gownsmen were loitering along the streets, -but the town was quite deserted, it being the Easter holiday time. -Here, at last, were the old gables of Magdalen; and now I pass -the Cherwell, and get a view of Magdalen-walks on one hand, -and of Christ Church meadows on the other. And now a tollgate, -and now the country road—and I can scarce conceive that -I have passed through Oxford, and that mine eyes have really -seen it, and that fancy, and the pictures, are no longer my chief -medium of knowing how it looks. How rapidly I have lost the -use of helps on which I have depended for years! Like the lame -man healed, I can hardly believe that I have gone on crutches. -But honestly, now—is the reality up to what I looked for? -Thus I thought, and questioned, as I jogged along.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cuddesdon is the name of a little hamlet in Oxfordshire, on a -wooded hill, overlooking a wide extent of country, besprinkled -with many similar hamlets, and distinguished by a pretty parish -Church, and the adjoining residence, or palace, of the Bishop. -The residence is one of those rambling and nondescript houses, -of ecclesiastical look, which one associates with English rural -scenery; but of a class which it is difficult to characterize, except -as something too modest for a nobleman’s seat, and something -too lordly for a vicarage. The nearness of the parish Church -might, indeed, suggest the idea of the parson’s abode—but what -should a parish priest want of so large a house, or of the little -private chapel which, on one side, makes a conspicuous part of -the pile? On the whole, one might conceive it the residence of -a Bishop without being told the fact, or before descrying the arms -of the See, over the entrance, encircled by the Garter, of which -most noble Order, the Bishop is Chancellor. Nothing could exceed -the kindness and affability with which the estimable prelate -received me, and made me welcome as his guest: his manner, at -once dignified and engaging, sufficing immediately to make a visitor -at home in his presence, however deeply impressed with reverence -for his person. I esteemed it an additional privilege to be -presented to the Bishop’s brother, Archdeacon Wilberforce, then -just arrived at the palace from his own residence in Yorkshire: -and I soon found, among the guests of the Bishop, several other -persons of eminent position in society, from whose agreeable intercourse -I derived the highest satisfaction. I had arrived on a -Saturday, and, after a pleasant evening, the week was solemnly -closed in the private chapel, with appropriate prayers. Here, -twice every day, all the members of the household, the family, -the guests, and the servants together, are assembled before the -Lord their Maker, while the Bishop, like a patriarch, assisted by -his chaplains, offers the sacrifices of prayer and thanksgiving, and -sanctifies his house. It was beautiful, on one occasion, to see -such a household together receiving the Holy Eucharist, and it -was good to participate in the solemnity. The sanctity of my -privilege, as the guest of such a family, forbids any further allusion -to the delightful scenes of domestic piety of which I was so -confidingly made a sharer; but I cannot withhold a tribute to the -character of a true Bishop, who has incidentally enabled me to -testify of at least one English prelate, that “he serves God with -all his house,” and makes that service the one thing indispensable -and most important, in all the distributions of private life, its -kindly offices, and endearing charities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I accompanied his Lordship, next day, into Oxford, where he -preached at St. Ebbe’s to a very large congregation. This -Church is very plain and countryfied—astonishingly so for Oxford; -but the worshippers were devout and earnest in their attention. -The sermon was suited to the Service for the day, and I was not -disappointed in the manner, nor yet in the matter, of it. The -Bishop is a truly eloquent man. His voice is sweet, and often -expressive of deep feeling, or of tender emotion. He uses more -action than most English preachers, or rather he has much less of -inactivity in his preaching. Occasionally he looks off from his -manuscript, and launches into warm extemporaneous address. -Altogether, I regard him as very happily combining the advantages -of the English and American pulpits. More than any other -of whom I know anything, he unites the delicacy and refinement -of the former with the earnestness and practical effect of the -latter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a short visit to Wadham College, where I had the -pleasure of meeting the late Vice-Chancellor of the University, -Dr. Symmons, we returned to Cuddesdon. Our road lay through -the village of Wheatley, where the bells were chiming for service -as we passed. Ascending the hills, we alighted and walked; and, -by and by, the good Bishop, pointing to a little hamlet not far off, -said to me, “there lived, once upon a time, a man named John -Milton. There is Forest Hill—there is Shotover—and walking -over these hills, he composed <span class='it'>Allegro</span> and <span class='it'>Penseroso</span>.” How it -thrilled my soul, as I listened to his words, and looked delightedly -over the scenes to which he directed my attention! We soon -reached Cuddesdon, and attended divine service in the parish -Church, which was filled chiefly with a rustic people, many of -them in hob-nailed shoes, and brown frocks, neatly arrayed, but -in the manner of a peasantry, such as we know nothing about in -America. The chancel of the Church has been lately restored -by the Bishop, and is in excellent taste and keeping throughout. -The Church itself is a cruciform one, originally Norman, but -much altered, and in parts injured, during successive ages. Its -aisles are early English; but many details, in perpendicular, have -been introduced in different portions of the pile. Here and there -in the wood-work are touches of Jacobean re-modeling. Still, -altogether, it is a most interesting Church, and it afforded me -great pleasure to worship there, with the rustics and their Bishop, -and with a pretty fair representation of the divers ranks of -English society, all uniting, happily and sweetly, in their ancestral -worship. It was a delicious day, and the glimpses of sky and -country, which we gained through the portals and windows, were -additional inspirers of gratitude to God. After service, the -Bishop led me round the Church, and showed me the grave where -one of his predecessors had laid a beloved child. A stone lay -upon it, containing the exquisite lament of Bishop Lowth for his -daughter, which I remembered to have seen before, but which -never seemed half so touching and pathetic as now, while Bishop -Wilberforce repeated it from the chiseled inscription:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Cara Maria, Vale; at veniet felicius ævum</p> -<p class='line0'>   Quando iterum tecum, sim modo dignus, ero:</p> -<p class='line0'> Cara redi, læta tum dicam voce, paternos</p> -<p class='line0'>   Eja age in amplexus, cara Maria, redi!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>That evening, as we sat at the Bishop’s table, the bells of Cuddesdon -pealed forth a curfew chime. Oh, how sweet! A lady -then reminded me that Cuddesdon was one of the “upland hamlets,” -alluded to in <span class='it'>L’Allegro</span>,—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Where the merry bells ring round,</p> -<p class='line0'> And the jocund rebecks sound.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>And so happily closed my day, that, but for some reverting -thoughts to the dear home I had left behind me, I must say I -went as sweetly to sleep, in the spell of its delights, as -did poor Pilgrim in that chamber of his Progress, from whence -he was sure of a view of the Delectable Mountains as soon as he -should awake in the morning.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapVII'></a>CHAPTER VII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Miltonian ramble—Forest-hill, etc.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Horton, in Buckinghamshire, is supposed to have supplied to -Milton the imagery of the <span class='it'>Allegro</span> and <span class='it'>Penseroso</span>, chiefly because -he there composed those delightful poems, in which the very -essence of what is most poetical in the scenery and rural life of -England is so admirably condensed. But if it could be shown -that, so early in the maiden life of Mary Powell as when these -poems appeared, she had become the cynosure of Milton’s eyes, -and had attracted him to Forest-Hill as a visitor, it might, one -would suppose, be very fairly maintained, that this place alone -answers, in all respects, to the demands of the poetry in question. -It may at least be said with justice, that when the poet visited -Forest-Hill with his bride, he realized more perfectly there than -anywhere else, the rural delights which he has so exquisitely detailed; -and which he has invested at one time with the sprightly -aspect in which Nature reveals herself to youth and health, and, -at another, with the more sentimental beauties which she wears -before the eye of refined and meditative maturity. However, it -was not for me to settle such nice questions. Forest-Hill lies -not far from Milton, where the poet’s grandfather lived, and from -which comes his name; and Shotover-Forest, of which the grandfather -was ranger, is part of the same vicinage. It is very probable -that the Powells were early friends of the poet, and that -his youthful imagination was wont to haunt the whole hill-country -thereabout, in honour of the lady’s charms to whom he afterwards -gave his hand. Such at least was my creed, for the time, when -I enjoyed a delightful walk over the scenes in the company of intelligent -persons whose remarks often heightened not a little the -extraordinary pleasures of the day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the Bishop’s guests, at breakfast, there was the usual -planning of occupations for the morning, and I heard with great -satisfaction the proposal of a walk to Forest-Hill, in which it was -supposed I might be glad to share. Our party was soon made up, -consisting of the Archdeacon, the Rev. Mr. J——, Sir C—— -A——, a young Etonian closely related to the Bishop’s family, and -the Bishop’s youngest son. After some preliminary reconnoiterings -about the hamlet of Cuddesdon itself, (of which the adjoining -slopes and meadows furnish very pretty views,) off we went, well -shod and with sturdy staves in hand, and in all respects well-appointed -for an English ramble; which implies everything requisite -for thorough enjoyment of the diversion. We stretched -our legs, as Walton would say, over Shotover-Hill, encountering -a variety of rustic objects in the fields and farms; here a fold of -sheep, and there a hedge, and again a ditch, or a turnip-field, but -everything in its turn was of interest to me as presenting, in some -form or other, a contrast to similar objects in my own country, -the advantage being generally in favor of England, so far as the -picturesque is concerned. I can indeed think of many a walk -in America, incomparably more interesting than this in the character -of <a id='its'></a>its scenery; but what I mean is, that the same kind of -country with us, would have been almost devoid of interest. -Thus, instead of presenting field after field, cultivated like a garden, -beautifully hedged and exhibiting every mark of careful -husbandry; or a succession of green pastures, in which fine cattle, -and the whitest and fattest of sheep were disposed in a manner -entirely suitable to the painter; or instead of a succession of -views of the most pleasing variety; here a hamlet and spire, and -there a neat cottage, and there a lordly mansion among trees, -and there a snug farmhouse: the same number of miles with us, -over a slightly undulating country, devoted to pasturage and -farming, would scarcely have offered a single scene on which the -eye could rest with satisfaction. At length, we reached Shotover-Lodge, -which has unfortunately been rebuilt within the last -hundred years, but the original of which supplies the ideal of -those famous lines in <span class='it'>L’Allegro</span>—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Russet lawns and fallows gray</p> -<p class='line0'> Where the nibbling flocks do stray;</p> -<p class='line0'> Towers and battlements it sees</p> -<p class='line0'> Bosomed high in tufted trees,</p> -<p class='line0'> Where perhaps some beauty lies,</p> -<p class='line0'> The cynosure of neighboring eyes.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Next we descended into a daisied meadow, and looked for the -plowman and the milkmaid, as it was yet too early for the tanned -haycock, or the mower whetting his scythe. Here the Archdeacon -recalled to my mind a criticism of Warton’s, which I had -quite forgotten, asking me if I remembered the meaning of the -lines—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“And every shepherd <span class='it'>tells his tale</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'> Under the hawthorn in the dale,”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>in which the idea is not that of narrative, or eclogue, but the -more English one of Thyrsis turning the sheep out of fold for -the day, and counting them, one by one; that is, <span class='it'>telling the tale</span>, -like the tale of brick exacted by the Egyptians, as we read in -Genesis. Many such comments from my companions gave great -inspiration to the ramble, which brought us at last up the sides -of Forest-Hill itself, where we first encountered some cottages of -surprising neatness, inhabited by thrifty tenants, who farmed a -few acres of their own hiring. Here Sir C——, like a true Protectionist, -stopped to ask a few questions of Hodge and his family -about the prospects of “the British farmer,” and the practical results -of Cobdenism; and I fancied, from the interest taken in the disclosures -by my young friend from Eton, that the lads who now play -cricket on the banks of the Thames, under “the antique towers,” -are not unlikely, at some future day, to maintain the rights of the -landed gentry, with the same primary reference to agriculture -which so largely distinguishes Mr. Disraeli. And now we came -to the little Church of Forest-Hill, where, for aught I know, -Milton was married to the daughter of the good old cavalier, but -where he could not have been surrounded by a very great crowd -of rejoicing friends upon the happy occasion, as the sacred place -will scarcely contain threescore persons at a time. It has no -tower, but only one of those pretty little gable-cots for the bell, -so familiar of late in our own improving architecture of country -Churches. The altar-window is near the road, and the bell-gable -is at the other extremity, surmounting the slope of the land, on -a pretty terrace of which, embosomed among the trees and shrubs, -is situated the parsonage. The little Church itself is of the early -English period, but has repairs in almost every variety of pointed -style, and some in no style at all. It has had very little aid -from the builder, however, for nearly a century. In the early -Caroline period, or a little before the date of Milton’s marriage, -it was probably new-roofed and put into good order, possibly as -the result of injunctions from the King and Council, with some -of whom, “the filthy-lying of Churches” was not reckoned a -proof of growing godliness in the nation. Accordingly I noticed -on one of the tie-beams of the roof, the inscription, C. 1630 R., -and again on the door, C. R. 1635. In the churchyard is a remarkably -fine holly tree, and, what is still more interesting, the -grave of Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. Here he lies, ignorant -alike that his Lusiad is almost forgotten, and that his little -ballad of Cumnor-Hall has reproduced itself in the world-famous -story of Kenilworth. We ventured to call at the parsonage, -where we were very courteously shown the parish-register, a little -old parchment book, in which I observed the entry of Mary -Powell’s christening, and also the record of burial of persons -brought in after such and such a fight, in the Civil Wars. In a -nice little cottage hard by, we found an old dame teaching half-a-dozen -children; and if any one marvels at my mentioning so insignificant -a fact, let me say that it was one of the most pleasing -of my day’s adventures to visit this school, which seemed to be -the original of many a queer cut, familiar from the painted story-books -of the nursery. The cottage seemed to contain but one -room, the dame’s bed being turned up against the wall, and neatly -concealed by a check curtain. The windows were casements, -with diamond panes—and the walls were so thick, that the window-sill -afforded space for several boxes of plants, set there for -the sunlight. The floor was so neat, that it might have served -for a table without offence to the appetite; sundry shelves shone -with polished pewter and tin; the whitewash, without and within, -was fresh and sweet; and sundry vines were trained about -the door. The little scholars, evidently the children of laboring -people, were tidy in their appearance too, and they sat, each upon -his stool, with A-B-C-Book held demurely before the nose, and -eyes asquint at the visitors. Every thing convinced me that the -old dame was a strict disciplinarian, whose “moral suasion” consisted -in the rod of Solomon, fairly displayed before the eyes of -the urchins, and no doubt faithfully used. And yet nothing -could exceed the good-nature and propriety of her appearance, -except the humility with which she seemed to regard the literary -pretensions of her academy. Good-bye, dame! Reverend is -thy little starched cap, and dignified thy seat in the corner of the -chimney. True, they teach greater things hard by, at Oxford; but -thou art an humble co-worker with its ablest Dons and Doctors: -and happy are the children, who have only to peep out of their -school-house door to see the top-rounds of the ladder, about the -foot of which they climb; even the towers of Christ Church, and -of Magdalen, and the dome of the Radcliffe Library.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said one of my companions—“when the Great Tom of -Oxford rings its <span class='it'>hundred-and-one</span> of a summer evening, then, -standing on this hill, you will get the meaning of Milton’s -lines:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“’Oft, on a plat of rising ground</p> -<p class='line0'> I hear the far-off curfew sound,</p> -<p class='line0'> Over some wide-watered shore,</p> -<p class='line0'> <span class='it'>Swinging slow, with sullen roar</span>.’”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>To which I ventured to object, that although the heavy sound of a -bell like the Great Tom would alone justify the description in the -last of these lines, I saw nothing in the view before me, to account -for the allusion to a “wide-watered shore.” This, however, -was met by the assurance that the little rivulet, which -might be seen in the mead, was not unfrequently lost in a -spreading inundation, and that at such times nothing could be -more descriptive than the very words of the poem! This, I was -bound to admit as satisfactory. And now I made a discovery of -my own. Hard by the dame’s cottage I found a spring, overarched -with substantial masonry, and adorned with ivy. I -suggested that John Milton had certainly tasted of that water, -for that the well was antique, and evidently designed for the use -of a gentleman’s household; to which Sir C——, who is a judge -of such matters, at one assented, pronouncing it of the period of -Mary Powell’s youth, and paying my discovery the practical -compliment of producing his sketch-book, and drawing it on the -spot. A similar drawing he made of the Powell house itself, to -which we now proceeded. It presents the remains of a much -larger house, but even in its reduced dimensions, is quite sufficient -for a comfortable farmer. Still the rose, the sweet-briar and -eglantine are redolent beneath its casements; the cock, at the -barn-door, may be seen from any of its windows; and doubtless -the barn itself is the very one in which the shadowy flail of -Robin Goodfellow threshed all night, to earn his bowl of cream. -In the house itself we were received by the farmer’s daughter, -who looked like “the neat-handed Phillis” herself; although her -accomplishments were, by no means, those of a rustic maiden, for -she evidently had entered fully into the spirit of the place, and -imbued herself with that of the poetry in no mean degree. We -were indebted to her for the most courteous reception, and were -conducted by her into several apartments of the house, concerning -all of which she was able to converse very intelligently. In -the kitchen, with its vast hearth and over-hanging chimney, we -discovered tokens of the good-living for which the old manor-house -was no doubt famous in its day: and in its floor, was a -large stone said to have been removed from a room, now destroyed, -which was formerly the poet’s study. The garden, in its -massive wall, and ornamented gateway, and an old sundial, retains -some trace of its manorial dignities in former times—when -the maiden Mary sat in her bower, thinking of her inspired lover; -or when, perchance, the runaway wife sighed and wept here over -a letter brought by the post, commanding Mistress Milton to return -to her duty in a dark corner of London, on pain of her -husband’s displeasure, and of being made the heroine of a book -on divorce! Our fair conductress next called our attention to -an outhouse, now degraded to the office of domestic brewing, but -which she supposed to be the “still, <span class='it'>removed</span> place” of <span class='it'>Penseroso</span>; -and in proof of the nobler office to which it had been originally -designed, she pointed out the remains of old <span class='it'>pargetting</span>, or ornamental -plaster-work, in its gables. The grace with which she -used this term of art, would have rejoiced the soul of an ecclesiological -enthusiast. Moreover, she brought forth a copy of Sir -William Jones’ Letters, and pointed out to us his description of -the place, proving that our researches on Forest-Hill can make -no pretensions to originality, though certainly he could not boast -of the advantages we derived from the illustrative powers of our -hostess. It was her idea that the house had originally been a -convent; and this notion, she said, receives force from the lines:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Come, pensive nun, devout and pure,</p> -<p class='line0'> Sober, steadfast, and demure,” etc—</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>imagery, which, in her opinion, could only be suggested by the -associations of the spot. Many a worse theory in literature has -been built upon foundations quite as slender; and so without -committing ourselves to this interpretation, but with many thanks -for the hint, and for all her civility, we respectfully bade adieu -to the house, and its respectable occupants, with all necessary -apologies for our intrusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next morning, when I met Sir C—— at breakfast, he startled -me by throwing upon the table two accurate and beautiful drawings -of the well and mansion at Forest-Hill. He had produced -them from the little sketches which I had seen him take upon the -spot; and as they must have been made either very late at night, -or very early in the morning, they were pleasing proofs of his kind -disposition to gratify and oblige me, by the gift of a memorial of -our Miltonian day, that must long afford me the additional pleasure -of renewing its associations with him. In a few hours I bade -farewell to Cuddesdon; but it so turned out that some of the acquaintances -there formed, were subsequently renewed in other -places, and in travel on the Continent. Nor can I forbear to mention -with gratitude, that the kind attentions of the Bishop to his guest, -so far from ceasing when I had taken leave, were continued -through the whole period of my sojourn in England, and frequently -opened to me unexpected sources of benefit and enjoyment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I must not conclude without observing, with reference -to Forest-Hill, that Sir William Jones declares its groves to have -been long famous for nightingales; while, at the same time, by -distinctly recognizing the “distant mountains that seem to support -the clouds,” as part of the view to be gained from the summit -of the hill, he has done much to identify the spot as indeed -the true scene of the poems. It is allowed that nothing like -mountains are to be seen from Horton; but Sir William fully -justifies the allusion, as suited to Forest-Hill, while at the same -time he removes all ground for the hackneyed complaint, that -this reference to mountains is a blemish to the poem, as being -wholly unwarranted by the character of English scenery.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Oxford—New College—Magdalen.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now came my first day in Oxford—a day depended upon from -boyhood, and from which I had expected more quiet and meditative -delight than from any other enjoyment whatever. To -every one who has made English literature and English history a -study, I need not explain why. But Oxford has not only a literary -<span class='it'>prestige</span>: it is so intimately connected with the history of -our holy religion, that all other associations receive, as it were, -an unction from this. Every college has its history; every -stone, and every tree, and every turf, suggest ennobling reflections, -as memorials of departed worth, but the hallowed memory of -Martyrs sheds over all a deep and sober glory, that awes while it -inspires. I know that our age has seen men, aye, and Oxford -men, who could sneer at the reverend names of Cranmer, and -Latimer, and Ridley: but who that has a heart not absolutely -dead to generous emotion, but must feel a warm re-action in view -of such impotent malignity? Who, in the days of the apostate -and the dupe, can go to Oxford without blessing God that other -days have left us the blessed example of men faithful unto death, -and triumphing in the fire?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I stopped at “The Angel,” but it was not long before I found -myself hospitably taken up, and transported to the house of a -friend in the Turl, next door to Exeter College. My kind entertainer -was one widely known throughout Anglo-Saxondom, not -only by the books which he publishes, but by those also which -he writes: and to whose elementary works on architecture we, in -America, are indebted for about all that is popularly known of -that beautiful art and science. As it was now vacation, I had -an opportunity of seeing Oxford first, as it were, in scene, without -the <span class='it'>dramatis personæ</span>; and no one is more capable than my -kind host, of explaining the antiquarian and architectural glories -of Oxford to a stranger. As he courteously gave me his valuable -time, I made my primary rounds under his guidance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I came into Oxford, from Cuddesdon, I heard the bells of -St. Mary’s in full peal, and experienced an exhilarating emotion -that greatly heightened my impressions. After my arrival in the -Turl—a name which indicates that the street was once a country-lane, -guarded by a <span class='it'>turn-stile</span>—I took my second walk through the -city, my first having been on the previous Sunday, passing from -St. Ebbe’s to Wadham College, with the Bishop. Now, beginning -with New College and the glories of William of Wykeham, -I felt a new impulse of wonder and admiration, as if the half -had not been told me. In vain does the pedant complain of the -architecture here displaying the genius of that munificent founder, -and tell us that it marks a decline from the elevation of the -decorated period; for who can but see, in what is called decline, -something much more like an elaborate adaptation of sacred art -to academic purposes, exhibiting high invention, and a sense of -the fitting and appropriate, which proves a taste truly refined, and -a fancy rich and creative? So, at least, it strikes me; and the -moral element is not less observable, the very stones seeming vital -and instinct with the designer’s great soul and spirit. Thus the -gateways, as has been well remarked, exhibit strength and utility, -with little to advertise what is within; the domestic part is simple, -and chaste and homelike; the hall bespeaks a generous hospitality, -and suggests the social and civilizing character with -which religion invests the table and the meal, and elevates it to -a feast of reason; while, at last, the chapel is full of divine majesty, -and commands abasement of self in the house of God, and -at the gate of heaven. Wykeham was, for his day, a reformer, -as really as Wyckliffe, and nothing is more certain than that the -true Anglican alone has a right to glory in his achievements. -They mark a period of contest with the papacy, every step of -which contributed to the ultimate liberation of the Church of -England from its Italian yoke, and they were perfected in that -English spirit, against which the Pope was always at war, and -which late apostates from our Nicene faith detest and anathematize -as schism. True it is that we differ with Wykeham and -Waynefleet in many items of opinion and practice, in which they -were no wiser than their times; but they are one with us, historically, -in the communion of the Church of England, in the -maintenance of her individuality and independence, and in the -confession of the Nicene Creed, as the authorized symbol of -Christendom. These impressions, forced upon me within these -walls, and growing on me every day that I spent in England, returned -with ten-fold power after I had seen the Continent, and -again beheld English Churches and colleges, and felt their essential -antagonism to what is Italian and Tridentine, and their -almost physical tendency towards the production of such a -Church, in their ultimate result, as the Anglican Communion is -at this day, and is likely to be in future. Let us depend upon it, -and act upon it, as a fact in the providence and design of God, -that the Church of England, from the first day she was planted -until now, has been, as it were, “the Church in the wilderness;” -retaining always a primitive and individual element, and preparing -for eventual manifestation in the pure glory of the Bride, the -great adversary of the harlot, with whose painted front and -virago fury she now patiently contends.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although the modern parts of the College are conspicuous -from the gardens, I found in them a fascination which I can -hardly account for or describe. The ancient city walls, with -their bastions and defences, are still preserved as the boundaries -of the premises, and possibly it is to them, with their embowering -verdure and isolating effect, that one owes a feeling of -enchanting seclusion and quietude. Here my trans-Atlantic -eyes first beheld the loop-holes and embrasures of mediæval fortification; -first grasped the idea of intramural siege, and bow-and-arrow -fight! It struck me overwhelmingly with a sense of -loss and mental injury, that I should have known only faintly, -and from books, what thus the Oxford student receives in passive -impressions of reality—the ennobling idea of our connections -with the past, and its paternal relations to us. To see every day -the walls on which one’s forefathers, ages ago, patrolled in armor, -or from which they aimed the cross-bow; to walk and -study and repose habitually under their shadow; to have always, -in sport and in toil, in sorrow and in joy, such monuments of -time and history about one: how ought it not to refine and mature -the character; and make a man feel his place between two -eternities; and inspire him to live well the short and evil day in -which, if ever, what he does for futurity must be done quickly, -and with might!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But now, somehow or other, we emerged into “The Slipe,” -where one gets a fine external view of old wall, chapel and -tower. But I was impatient to see Magdalen College, and Addison’s -Walk, and thither we bent our way. Passing under its new -and beautiful gateway, I stood before that effective grouping of -architectural detail which makes up the western front. Here -are tower, turret and portal, chapel, lodge, and non-descript -doorway; here are great window, and oriel, and all sorts of windows -besides; and trees and vines lending grace to all; and here -is that queer little hanging pulpit, for out-door preaching, which, -with all the rest, always made Magdalen, to my boyish taste, the -very Oxford of Oxford. And I am not sure that this notion -was a wrong one; for now that my ideal has received the corrections -of experiment, what college shall I prefer to Magdalen? -Perfect and entire is Wadham, where, in the warden’s lodge, I -first broke academic bread; lordly is Christ Church, with its -walks and its quadrangles; lovely is Merton, as it were the sister -of Christ Church, and gracefully dependent; New College is -majestic; All Souls worthy of princes: but Magdalen alone is -all that is the charm of others, compendious in itself; yielding -only a little to each rival in particulars, but in the whole excelling -them all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Addison’s walk I gave myself up to delightful recollections -of the Spectator, and marvelled not that the thorough-bred -Englishman of that bewitching collection, was the product, in -part, of such a spot as this! Here that great refiner of our -language breathed the sentiment of his country, and nourished -the spirit that knew how to appreciate her, and how to transfuse -the love of her into others. I defy the most stupid visitor to feel -nothing of enthusiasm here! I made the circuit of the meadow, -surveyed the bridge over the Cherwell, took a view of Merton-fields -and Christ Church meadows; and, after meeting with the -late Vice-President, Dr. Bloxam, and encountering in him a -cordiality of reception which I can never forget, concluded by -attending prayers in the chapel. I was placed in a stall, and -had as favorable a position, for sight and sound, as I could have -desired. The service was sung throughout—although, as it was -now vacation, comparatively few were in attendance besides the -singers themselves. I observed that here, as in other college-chapels, -the chapel itself is the choir of a cruciform Church, the -ante-chapel is the transept, and the nave is wanting. Add the -nave, that is, and you have a cathedral, or minster, complete. -In the ante-chapel of Magdalen, there are always persons devoutly -following the service; and although they can see nothing, -they hear it with very sweet effect, the chaunt being softened by -their separation from the singers, while it is articulate and altogether -devotional.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Magdalen became my home in Oxford, for there I more frequently -walked, and worshipped, and visited than elsewhere—and -there, for a time, I was lodged; while in its grounds I became -a frequent and familiar guest; taking, in grateful confidence, -the repeated invitations which I received from Dr. Bloxam and -other members of the College, although obliged to decline far -more of their kindness than I could possibly accept. During -this first visit I dined in the Hall, meeting a number of eminent -members of the University, and greatly enjoying their conversation. -This superb Hall is lined with portraits of the distinguished -sons of Magdalen. As I sat at meat, Addison’s portrait -was just before me, and at the end of the Hall was the portrait -of one whom I am accustomed to reverence even more, as the -pattern of the true Anglican pastor, the pure and holy Hammond. -All around hung the venerable pictures of great and -historical personages, who have illustrated their college in becoming -illustrious themselves. Among such worthies, none can forget -Bishop Horne, who, although he died in 1792, was the -immediate predecessor in the presidency of Dr. Routh, the -present incumbent, now very nearly a hundred years of age. -This venerable and extraordinary man is, indeed, as was often -said to me—“the greatest wonder of Oxford.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But how many are the sources of delight in this august University! -Even the meanest are not unworthy of note. At dinner, -in the Hall, for example, I remarked, that the queer old -mug from which I was drinking, was the gift to the College of -“Robert Greville, second son of Lord Brooke;” and when we -adjourned to the common-room, for fruit and conversation, the -traditions of the spot, which were recounted, were all of historical -interest. In this very room, that sturdy champion of his College, -Bishop Hough, by boldly resisting the Commissioners of the -Popish James, with their three troops of horse at the door, paved -the way for the Revolution of 1688; and yet no College in Oxford -was so much distinguished for its subsequent loyalty to the -house of Stuart as Magdalen—following, in this, the example of -Bishop Ken and the non-jurors, who liked the usurpation of William -quite as little as the oppression of James. A Jacobite -goblet was put into my hand, bearing the inscription <span class='it'>Jus suum -cuique</span>, which admirably apologizes for the position of the College, -in both these historical issues; while, on the other side, is -the legend, to which I gave emphatic utterance, as I drank—<span class='it'>Vivat -Magdalena!</span> After an hour in the common-room, we returned -to the Hall, where the choristers were rehearsing the -anthem for the next service, and where I heard not a little sweet -singing during the evening. The fire was brightly blazing in its -chimneys; and the light and shade of the vast apartment, with -its pictures reflecting the playful glare from painted armor, or -robes of lawn, and academic scarlet, to say nothing of the visages -of ancient worthies clad in such array, very much heightened the -effect of the scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before returning to London, besides making a general survey -of the city, I became somewhat more particularly acquainted -with Christ Church, its hall, and common-room: and with its -chapel, which is the cathedral. In Oriel College, also, I passed -some pleasant moments, and drank of the College beer, from an -old traditional cup of the time of Edward Second. I also worshipped -at St. Mary’s, and did the same at St. Thomas’s, a picturesque -and venerable fabric in the outskirts of the city, near -the site of Oseney Abbey. Here the late restorations were very -fine; and, although it is a parochial Church only, the service -was sung. I observed a somewhat excessive external devotion -on the part of a few of the worshippers, which struck me unfavorably; -but, perhaps, in times of less dubious allegiance to the -Church, I should not have noticed it as peculiarly pharisaical. -I paid a visit to the Bodleian and the Picture Gallery, and inspected -the architecture of “the Schools;” and, finally, saw some ceremonies -in the Convocation House, which were very well worth -seeing, as illustrating the academic system of Oxford. Several -masters-of-arts were made, the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Plumptre, -presiding, in his scarlet robes; but all was done with an entire -absence of pomp, and in presence of very few spectators. I was -the more surprised, as this was the first day of Easter-term; and, -from the general peal from towers and steeples, one might have -supposed it a great day. Even the ceremony of admitting the -new proctors, and the Latin speech of one of them going out, -seemed hardly to have any interest for the academics, or others. -The Heads of Houses were assisting, and looked well; and, -when all was over, there was a procession, the Vice-Chancellor -going in state, solemnly preceded by the bedels, with their maces—profanely -called <span class='it'>pokers</span> by the undergraduates. There was, however, -no strut, but rather the contrary. You saw, at a glance, -that all this was the mechanical routine of the University, done -as business; and so regarded by every body concerned. It is -only when men are <span class='it'>acting</span> that they become sublimely ridiculous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This remark applies to the May-morning celebration, on top -of the Tower of Magdalen. To read of it, one would think it must -be a romantic, or enthusiastic, piece of absurdity: but done, as -a matter of course, and in continuity, year after year, from -ancient times, it has, on the spot, a very different effect. The -custom dates from 1501, the first year of the 16th century, -when, in gratitude for a royal benefaction from Henry VII., a -Hymn to the Holy Trinity, with the Collect of Trinity Sunday, -and other solemnities, were instituted as a commemoration, to be -celebrated on the first day of May. The produce of two acres -of land, part of the royal gift, was at the same time to be distributed -between the President and fellows. It now goes to pay -for an entertainment supplied to the choristers, in the College-hall, -at which a silver grace-cup is passed around with great -formality. The boys have a complete holiday, moreover, and -from sunrise to sunset are set free from College-bounds; but it -must be understood that the boys here spoken of are those of the -school and choir—not the undergraduates, of whom there are -precious few at Magdalen—which is not an educational establishment, -but a society of educated men, devoted to academic pursuits. -But I suppose I need not explain the difference between -such Colleges and our own, now so generally understood. To -remedy what is considered by the progress-men a crying evil, -and to turn the splendid revenues of Magdalen to the largest benefit -of the largest number, is one of the professed purposes of the -late Royal Commission: but, unfortunately, no confidence can be -placed in its professions. Were the thing in the hands of true -Churchmen, and relieved from the tinkering of Lord John Russell, -there can be no doubt that a competent and moderate University -reform might vastly augment the resources of the Anglican -Communion, and furnish a noble and safe expansion to her missionary -and colonization enterprises. The Lord hasten such a -genuine improvement, and deliver the University from the -rash and presumptuous hands of political capitalists and adventurers!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was premonished by one of <span class='it'>the Dons</span>, that there would be -very little danger of over-sleeping on a May-morning in Oxford, -for that an old remnant of Druidical times still flourishes unrestrained -among the lads of the town. This is nothing less than -the blowing of all sorts of dissonant horns, about the streets, in -honor of the British Flora, from the earliest peep of May-day; -as if to remind every body of the shame of sleeping when nature -is displaying her fairest and most fragrant charms. Awakened, -then, by the promised croaking, up I rose, and repaired to the -College, towards which the whole tide of early-risers was setting. -Here, those who are not admitted to the Tower, station themselves -in the street below, or line the bridge of the Cherwell, -awaiting the aerial music. As I slowly wound my way to the -top of the tower, I caught beautiful views through its loop-holes, -and breathed occasional puffs of delicious air. On the summit -were gathered almost as many gownsmen, and others, as half the -place would hold: the other half was railed off for the singers—men -and boys, in their surplices and caps, with sheets of music -in their hands. The view of the surrounding country, towards -Forest-hill and Cuddesdon, or round by Nuneham and Stanton -Harcourt, to Woodstock, was exceedingly lovely—and, of -course, the more so, for the inspiration of the hour. As the -clocks of Oxford chimed the hour of five, every head was -reverently uncovered—and, while the morning sun made all the -landscape glitter, forth broke the sweet music of the old Latin -hymn:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Te Deum patrem colimus,</p> -<p class='line0'> Te laudibus prosequimur:</p> -<p class='line0'> Qui corpus cibo reficis,</p> -<p class='line0'> Cœlesti mentem gratia.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Alas! it was too soon over; for while it lasted, looking up -into the blue heavens, one could almost imagine himself amid -the clouds, and surrounded by the melodies of the heavenly -host. As soon as it was done, the bells beneath us began their -chorus, and the tower fairly rocked and reeled. After lingering -for a time, to survey the effects of a bright morning on the -domes and spires of the University, and on the aged trees of -Christ-Church meadows and the windings of the river, I descended -to the walks, and there passed an hour, sauntering about, -as it were, in the very foot-prints of Addison and Bishop Horne. -The bells discoursed their music for a full hour; the rooks chattered, -and made holiday in the tree-tops; the sweet-briar and -rose perfumed the cloisters; the deer bounded across the College -park; and wherever I went, or wherever my eye rested, I saw -nothing to remind me that this world is a wretched and work-day -world, and that England is full of misery and sin. For a time, -rhyme seemed reason, and fancy fact. In the enchantment of -that delightful May-morning, one might be forgiven for loving -life and being fain to see many such good days.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapIX'></a>CHAPTER IX.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>The Crystal Palace—Opening, etc.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having frankly confessed my prejudices against the Great -Exhibition, I must now as frankly own that I am ashamed of them. -The whole thing was indeed strongly marked by the spirit of -the age, and was, therefore, such as no one who sees and -understands the faults of our own times can enthusiastically admire. -Yet, little by little, I saw so much in it which illustrates -the better elements of that spirit, and which is capable of being -directed to noble results in behalf of the whole family of man, -that, to some degree, I rejoice in the complete success of that -splendid experiment. I was nicely punished for my folly at the -outset, in losing the pageant of the opening, of which I took no -pains to be a spectator, until it was quite too late to obtain admittance. -If I lost any thing, however, I suffered in good company. -I am astonished, at this time, to remember the indifference -of many Englishmen, in different ranks of society, to the -entire project, until its success was demonstrated. From <span class='it'>The -Times</span>, which was a great grumbler at first, and from old <span class='it'>Blackwood</span>, -which railed at the <span class='it'>Temple of Folly</span>, down to the shopkeepers -in Regent-street, there was a wide-spread feeling of contempt -for Prince Albert’s hobby, as likely to cost more than it -would come to: while sincere apprehensions were entertained -that something revolutionary and bloody might be the result of -the collection of vast bodies of men, with a large proportion of -foreign republicans among them, into the bosom of the Metropolis. -How idle all this seems now! At the time, I am sure, very few -were satisfied that it was altogether idle; and I fancy the Queen -and Prince Albert themselves wished the thing well over, for some -time before it was fairly inaugurated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went into Oxfordshire without making any plans to see the -show, and remained over the morning of the first of May, to hear -the hymn on the Tower of Magdalen. This was the day of the opening -of the Palace, and accordingly I immediately hastened to London, -to see how it would end. Riot and murder were the very least -of evil results predicted by some, and our American press had anticipated -nothing less than general pillage and insurrection. On -arriving in London, I found that if I had only secured my ticket -beforehand, I might have been at the show, as well as at the -Oxford solemnity; for it was yet early in the day. Immense -masses of men were pouring into Hyde Park, as I drove down -the Edgeware road, and the crowd and crush of vehicles was not -less surprising. It was with difficulty that I made my way -through Piccadilly, especially as my cab emerged into the vicinity -of Hyde-Park-corner. The police were everywhere on duty, but -there was no mob, properly speaking, to require their interference. -Thousands of the humbler classes, men, women and children, in -their best clothes, were endeavouring to enjoy the holiday, and -get a sight of the Queen. That was all, at this hour—and so it -continued through the day. Towards noon, the crowd in the -Park grew oppressive, and the slightest accident might have bred -a confusion, in which life would have been sacrificed; but there -was absolutely nothing but good-natured pushing and thrusting, -and the occasional squall of an infant, whose mother was more -engaged to save her tawdry finery, than to secure the safety of -her child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Finding myself one of the people, I resolved to enjoy a nobody’s -share of the sight-seeing. Some English friends whom I found -in the same predicament, and who assured me I had lost nothing -worth a guinea to see, volunteered to accompany me into the -Park, where they thought it not unlikely the most exciting scenes -of the day would come off. So then, we elbowed and pushed -our progress into the Park, and were elbowed and pushed in return -quite as much as we cared to be. At last, it became impossible -to fight it out three abreast, and we agreed to “divide -and conquer.” The last I saw of my friends, one was here and -the other there, amid a crowd of hats and faces swaying about, -with exclamations and entreaties in behalf of coats and -shins, and toes, and umbrellas. We looked laughing adieus, and -saw each other no more. At length I found myself in the line of -the Queen’s procession, and hired a convenient standing-place to -see her progress to the Palace. On she came at last, preceded by -those superb horse-guards, who dashed magnificently through the -crowd, and were themselves the finest military spectacle I had -ever beheld. Several of the Court carriages followed, one containing -the Crown-Prince of Prussia; and then came the Queen’s, -distinguished by many horses, coachmen, and footmen; the coach -itself glittering with gold; the horses splendidly caparisoned; -and the servants in showy liveries, with powdered hair, cocked-hats, -and immense nosegays thrust into their bosoms. The cockneys, -however, had expected to see the coronation coach, and -were accordingly much disappointed with this modicum of show. -Then followed more horse-guards, kicking up the gravel into the -faces of the plebeians, and sinking, with their haunches to the -earth, as their riders spurred them into proud prancings and -curvettings, as if to intimate that the very beasts knew they were -attending the Sovereign of many Empires to a festival of all nations. -Whew! how they dashed along! and soon a discharge of -artillery announced her arrival at the Palace; nor was it long -before another discharge of the guns proclaimed the ceremony -concluded, and the Great Exhibition opened. Everybody looked -happy and contented; and everybody, with wife and children in -the bargain, appeared to be on the spot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the royal carriage passed, I observed the Queen to be apparently -uneasy, and apprehensive. The glass was up, and she -was giving herself that constant motion which was Louis Philippe’s -art of safety on like occasions. Without any distrust of her people, -she may have remembered the attempt of the madman, -Oxford, and she knew that any similar desperado must have a better -chance of success on a day like this. I saw the little princes, -and the royal head, therefore, to great disadvantage; but fortune -favored me with a fuller satisfaction on their return. While -everybody was pressing towards the Crystal Palace, I now turned -against the tide, and gradually extricating myself from the Park, -passed down Constitution Hill, and finally arrived at Buckingham -Palace just in time to get a full view. The crowd here was very -light, and I saw everything to great advantage. The Queen was -evidently in high spirits, the glass down, and she bowing most -maternally. I was within a few feet of her, and lifted my hat in -homage to the broad, good-humoured smile with which she -seemed to regard her enthusiastic subjects. The grand-daughter -of George the Third looks exceedingly like her venerable ancestor, -and a glance suggested to me what must have been his appearance -in his younger days. Her features are by no means unfeminine, -though far from delicate; she was a little flushed, and -hence less fair than she is painted; but her exhilaration at the -happy conclusion of her morning, gave an attractiveness to her -expression which she lacked when I afterwards saw her, on more -splendid occasions, languid with the routine of a drawing-room -at St. James’s, and sick enough, I dare say, of its heartlessness -and formality. After the Queen passed into her residence, I -supposed the pageant ended, but shortly after there arose a shout, -which convinced me I was mistaken. I turned, and saw her exhibiting -herself to the people in the balcony of the palace, in the -centre of a very splendid group, and with the little Prince of -Wales, and the Princess Royal, at her side. The Princess Alice, -the Crown Prince of Prussia, and the Duchess of Sutherland, -were in the splendid circle, but the Prince Consort I did not -discover. The shouts of the people were not so vociferous as I -should have anticipated; and the royal party soon withdrew. I -afterwards learned that this was a novel proceeding, and was meant -by her Majesty as an act of most gracious and particular condescension. -I trust my republican interest in the spectacle was -none the worse, however, for being wholly unsuspicious of the -gratitude with which it should have been mingled. I looked not -without reverence, at the Sovereign Lady, and not without solemn -thoughts of futurity at her lovely little family of children. But -the influence of my country was so far upon me, that I never -conceived at the time, that her Majesty was doing more than -might have been expected of her, in honour of her loyal and most -decorous people.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To Americans in London the Crystal Palace soon became a -sore subject. We were the laughing-stock of nations; and I confess, -when I first visited the vast desert at the American end of -the show, in which many of the articles exhibited were even -worse than the lack of others which ought to have been there, I -felt myself disposed, for a minute, to blush for my country. It -would have been the very poverty of patriotism to plead that a -few items of our contribution were of very great merit; and self-respect -would not permit me to multiply apologies, or even explanations. -What was really good spoke for itself. What was -bad, or indifferent, was simply inexcusable. The fact is, our -progress in the arts of civilization was not at all represented; and -after observing the things which attracted attention, from other -countries, I felt sorry that nobody had thought of making similar -exhibitions for us. It really pained me to reflect, that I had -seen much more attractive exhibitions in our provincial towns; -and I was quite sure that one day’s work, in each of our great -cities, might have sufficed to collect a far better show of industrial -produce out of the ordinary market. Fortunately, the yacht -“America” came in at the last moment to “pluck up our drowning -honour by the locks;” and if we could but stop bragging -about it, that would be enough, until some future occasion may -afford us an opportunity of showing what American mechanics -and manufacturers are able to achieve in their various departments -of skill and ingenuity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was pained to observe the feeling engendered by the Exhibition -between England and America, and by the highly-irritated -recriminations of ill-bred representatives of both countries, on -the spot. On the other hand, I was sometimes amused by the -ludicrous attempts of some well-meaning Englishman to be complimentary. -He would choke out something about the “Greek -Slave,” and then pass rapidly to speak of his delight in meeting -with a model of Niagara Falls: an execrable thing, which only -served still further to confuse the unusually mudded ideas of that -prodigy of Nature, entertained by the English generally. As it -was simply an immense map of the Niagara, it of course represented -the Falls on such a scale as entirely deprived them of sublimity -and beauty: and so, when the speaker would enlarge upon -the magnificence of this feature of our country, I usually took -some satisfaction in confessing that the better half of the Falls is, -after all, on the British side, and that I was sorry he could find -nothing to praise that was entirely ours. The only instance in -which I encountered rudeness upon this subject, was an absurd -one, in a railway carriage, when a Paisley manufacturer, a little -the worse for whiskey, and very rich in his brogue, after some -impudent remarks, which led me to decline conversation, stuck -his face into mine, with the startling announcement—“<span class='it'>ye can’t -mak’ shawls in your country!</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On my first visit to the Exhibition, I must own that my prejudices -were utterly dispelled. The meagre effect of the exterior -was forgotten in the enchantment of the view within. It was -a high-priced day, when rank and fashion had the scene to itself. -The place where the interest of the whole was concentrated was -that beneath the transept, commanding, as it did, the entire -view; and where the great trees, preserved within the building, -furnished a comparative measure of the whole. The crystal roof -showered a soft day-light over the immense interior; the trees -and curious plants gave it a cheerful and varied beauty; the eye -bewildered itself in a maze of striking objects of luxury and taste; -musical instruments, constantly playing, bewitched the ear, their -tones blending, from various distances and directions, in a kind -of harmonious discord; fountains were gurgling and scattering -their spray, like diamonds and pearls; and, amid all, moved the -high-born beauty, and the rank and pride of England, mixed with -auxiliar representatives of foreign states, but not unconscious of -their own superiority, even while they seemed to forget that they -were insular, in their easy transition through the pavilion, from -England to France, and from France to Austria, and from -Austria to India and China. I thought of “the kingdoms of -the world and the glory of them:” did the vision which the -Tempter disclosed to the Man of Sorrows glitter more ravishingly -than this?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But others have written so well on this magnificent spectacle, -that I must not enlarge upon my own impressions. It grew -upon me, to the last. It was an encyclopædia, which I am glad -to have consulted. It was, in fact, a great piece of luck to a -traveller. How much of Europe it showed him in a day: how -many leagues of travel it would have cost to have gained the information, -with respect to divers countries, which here unfolded -itself beneath one mighty roof! I am convinced, moreover, that -its influence, on the whole, was good. It was opened and dedicated -by prayer, and the blessing of the Primate; it was presided -over by the religious spirit of the British Empire; it illustrated -the pacific and domestic influences of a female reign; it furnished -a striking proof of the stability and self-reliance of the Government, -as well as of the tranquil prosperity of the state; it united -many nations in a common and friendly work; it furnished a -touching but sublime commentary upon the lot of man, to eat -bread in the sweat of his brow, and it redeemed itself from the -spirit of that other Babel, upon the plains of Shinar, by bearing, -inscribed upon its catalogue, the text—“The earth is the Lord’s, -and all that therein is: the compass of the world, and they that -dwell therein.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On one of the days which admitted “the people,” I took my -stand in a corner of the quiet gallery, over the transept, and -looked down on the swarming hive with a meditative pleasure. -England was there, city and country, the boor and the shopkeeper, -and all sorts and conditions of men. The unspeakable -wealth of nations stood secure, and glittered, untouched, among -them all. All men are brothers, indeed; and tears came to my -eyes as I surveyed those sons of toil gazing for a moment upon -luxury, and trying to extract a day’s satisfaction in beholding -the pomps and vanities which Providence helps them, so sternly, -to renounce. Each soul—worth infinitely more than all; and -the purchase of the blood that is beyond all price! Oh <span class='sc'>God</span>, how -solemn the theatre, in which such a scene was presented to my -eye; and what thoughts it gave me of glory and of vanity, -of human joys and <a id='sorrow'></a>sorrows; of the speedy day when all that -multitude shall have passed from a world as transient as -the show which then amused them; and of the day not very -distant, when they, with all nations, shall stand before the Son -of Man!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is a good thing that the better counsel prevailed, and that -the Crystal Palace, when it had served its purpose, was taken -utterly away. It is now a thing of history, so far as Hyde-Park -is concerned; and the Transept Tree will long be its best memorial -to surviving generations. In this way its memory will have -a moral value, till the end of time. A bubble, like the world, -it has glittered and vanished. An epitome of nations and kingdoms, -and manners and men, it has served its purpose, and been -removed by its imperial architects. Who can doubt that, in like -manner, when their noble ends are accomplished, the heavens -shall be folded up as a vesture; and “the great globe itself, with -all which it inherits,” shall forever pass away, according to His -promise, who is King of kings and Lord of lords?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It would have been pity not to have seen poor <span class='it'>Jack-in-the-Green</span>, -on a May-day, in London; and yet I had quite forgotten -the sweep, and his right to a share in the festival, until I saw the -sight itself, as I chanced to be passing through one of the streets of -the West-end. A chimney of green things, it seemed to be; walking -along, and nearly or quite concealing the occupant, who -gave it motion, while a crowd of boys did honour to the show. -The game seemed to consist, in pausing before certain doors, -and soliciting a gratuity. Certain it is, that no one can grudge -a penny to such an applicant, or behold the one day’s sport of -the poor climbing-boy, without wishing he may succeed in trying -to make the most of it. Lady M. W. Montague is said to have -invented this beneficial anniversary of sweepdom, and the moving -obelisk of green seemed to me no unmeet memorial of her benevolence. -Better this, than the column of the Place Vendôme, -unless it be better to be remembered for levying a world-wide -tribute of blood and tears, than for giving one new object of hope -and joy to the children of sorrow!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the residue of the week I was engaged in the ordinary -lionizing, but met several agreeable persons in company, dining -one day at the Rectory of St. George’s East, and another day at -Clapham. My first impressions of the enormous extent of London -were gained in passing between these limits, and yet as vast -a suburb lay unexplored beyond the former, as I had travelled -through to reach the latter. Clapham is called four miles from -the metropolis, but one reaches it, by omnibus, with no very -clear idea of having left London at all. And so, in every direction, -London seems interminable, and villages known to us from -books as highly rural, and as affording delightful retreats from the -city, are found, to our surprise, to be incorporated with the great -Babel itself, and that by no means as its extremities.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapX'></a>CHAPTER X.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>St. James—Wellington—St. Paul’s.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had been invited by Dr. Wesley, Dean of the Chapel Royal -of St. James’s, to attend service there on Sunday morning. It -was the Second Sunday after Easter. The old clock above the -palace gate-way pointed eight o’clock as I entered the colour-court, -and saw the flag of the regiment on duty, drooping about -its staff, inscribed with the names of famous victories. All the -region round about seemed to be fast bound in slumber. It was -the cool, quiet Sunday morning of smoky London, to which only -the most casual glimmer of sunlight gave any warm announcement -of the advancing day. How still it seemed! A solitary -sentinel, in scarlet, stood, six feet high, at the gate. “Service -begun yet?” said I; and he answered, mechanically, “yes, the -Duke just gone in.” I passed on; knocked at the door of the -chapel; mentioned the Dean’s name as my warrant, and was admitted. -The beadle, in livery, showed me to a seat, and after my -devotions, I was able to look around. It was a plain place of -worship, and quite small; just large enough for the royal household, -none of whom, however, were now present, the Court being at -Buckingham Palace. The book in my seat was stamped with the -royal initial of William Fourth, and marked for some great officer -of the household. There was one seat between me and the -pulpit, the seats running along the wall, like stalls, and not as -ordinary pews. The altar at the end of the Church, beyond the -pulpit, was the conspicuous object of course, and the window above -it—which one might hardly take for an altar-window in the street-view—gave -the chief light to the holy place. Was this the same -chapel in which Evelyn so often anxiously marked the behaviour of -Charles and the Duke of York, at the celebration of the Eucharist? -The place has been much changed, but I indulged the idea of its -essential sameness. On the altar were the usual candlesticks, -and the glittering gold plate of great size and massiveness, in the -midst of which was conspicuous the Offertory-basin, bearing the -royal cypher of Queen Anne. There was no one in the chapel -but the beadle and—one other person, in the seat next me, at -my right. There, in a dim corner, directly under the pulpit—quite -crouchingly and drawn together, eyes shut, and white -head bowed down, Roman nose and iron features, and time-worn -wrinkles, all tranquilized—sat in silence the hero of Waterloo. -He was in the plainest morning dress of an English gentleman, -frock-coat of blue, and light trowsers. I scarcely looked at him, -and yet gained, in a moment, an impression of his entire person, -which I shall never lose. Occasionally I could not resist the -temptation of a glance at the great man, but who would venture -to stare at the Duke of Wellington in such a place, and at such a -time? The Dean of the chapel entered, with another clergyman, -who was habited for the pulpit. A clerical personage, attended -by two ladies, at the same time, came in as I had done, and, during -the sermon, there were four other persons present. The Dean -began the Communion Service, which surprised me, as I had expected -the usual Morning Prayer. Was the Duke about to communicate? -Was I to see him in the most solemn act of our holy -religion? Was I to kneel beside him to receive the same cup of -salvation and bread of life? It gave me solemn thoughts of our -common insignificance, in presence of Him whose majesty filled -the place, and on whose glorious Cross and Passion, I endeavoured -to fix all my thoughts. For ages in this chapel, sovereigns -and princes had literally brought gold and incense, (as they do -still, annually, on the Feast of the Epiphany,) and offered their -vows unto the King of kings; and now, there I knelt with the -greatest human being on the footstool; the first man of the first -nation; the great man of the greatest Empire on which the sun -ever shone; a man of blood, of battles, and of victories, coming -as a worshipper of the Prince of Peace, to crave salvation and -receive its pledge! ‘And yet, a greater than Solomon is here,’ -said my inward thought, ‘and therefore let this impressive moment -be a foretaste of that terrible hour when the Judge of all -the earth shall sit upon his throne, and when all worldly glories -must shrink to nothingness before His Majesty.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not but observe the Duke, at the saying of the Nicene -Creed. As usual, in England, he faced about to the East, and at -the name of <span class='sc'>Jesus</span>, the great Captain of his salvation, he bowed -down his hoar head full low, as if he were indeed a soldier of the -cross, and not ashamed to confess the faith of <span class='sc'>Christ</span> crucified. -The Duke was certainly not as eminent for sanctity as for his -many other qualities; but who shall say that his worship was -that of the formalist, or that the secret of his soul, which is with -<span class='sc'>God</span>, may not have presented to His eye the contrition and the -faith of a sinner “much forgiven!” Surely, the splendours which -seem so attractive to the superficial, must, long since, have become -burdensome to him; and few, so well as he, have been able to confirm -by experience the faithful witness of inspiration, that “man -at his best estate is altogether vanity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Dean is a grandson of the celebrated Charles Wesley, and I -was somewhat disappointed that he was not the preacher. The -text, it seemed to me, had been selected not without reference -to the great person, whose attendance at the chapel is sometimes -solitary, and who having entered on his eighty-third year on the -preceding Thursday, might be supposed to regard this Sunday as -one of more than ordinary solemnity. “<span class='it'>Though thy beginning was -small, thy latter end shall greatly increase</span>”—(Job viii:7)—such was -the text, and the reverend preacher dwelt on the approach of death, -and spoke of “men covered with worldly wealth and honours, making -their end in remorse and misery.” If the deafness of the Duke -did not prevent his hearing, many parts of the sermon must have -affected him, but he retained the immoveable and drowsy look of -which I have spoken before, and sat close in his corner. The residue -of the service proceeded as usual; five persons, myself and -the beadle included, being the only persons present besides the -officiating clergy. The collection at the Offertory was duly made -as in parish churches, and at the proper time (the beadle opening -the doors of our pews) the altar was surrounded. Supposing that -some etiquette might be observed in such a place, I was very -much pleased to find that the contrary was the case; and that all -present were expected to approach the altar together. The Duke -tottered up, just before me, and I knelt down at his side, just -where the beadle indicated my place. Of course I had other -things to think of at such a solemn moment, and I know nothing -of his deportment, at the sacrament, except that it seemed humble -and reverential. When all was over, and the Duke had retired, the -Dean, who had beckoned me to remain, for the consumption of -the residue of the sacrament, expressed great satisfaction at the -presence of an American clergyman, and spoke affectionately of -our Church. He told me that the Duke communicated thus regularly -on the first Sunday of every month: and I was glad, as I -left the chapel, that I had been so happy as to see him for the -first time when engaged in such a duty. He is now gone to the -dread realities we there confessed; and there is something peculiarly -touching in the recollection of that morning at St. James’s, when -that cup of salvation, out of which kings and queens have, so often, -drank their weal or woe, passed from his lips to mine. It made me -feel, at the time, both out of place, and yet at home; for what had -I to do in a royal chapel, and in the company of the worldly great? -and yet I was there because it was my Father’s house, and because -my right to the children’s bread is the same as theirs, even -the mercy which redeemed all men’s souls at the same unspeakable -price.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I next saw the Duke of Wellington, I had the honour of -being presented to him, and of observing his person and his manners -more narrowly, in a scene of private festivity. I saw him -once again, and that, too, was at St. James’s, amid all the splendours -of the Court, dressed in his military uniform, and glittering -with decorations. Even there he was the “observed of all observers,” -and long will it be before such another shall be seen amid -its splendours, giving, rather than receiving lustre, in the face of -the throne itself. But to have seen the old hero bowing at the -throne of grace, and asking mercy as a miserable sinner, through -the precious blood-shedding of Jesus Christ, will often be one of the -things which I shall most pleasingly recall, when I see some poor -dying cottager, or tenant of a garret, taking into his hand, with -as good a right, the same cup of salvation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I first came into the neighborhood of St. Paul’s, I was -far more impressed than I had expected to be with its dingy, but -still sublime exterior. With this Cathedral I had no very agreeable -associations. Erected during the first period of decline in -correct taste and sound theology, subsequent to the Rebellion, it -naturally partakes of the cold formality of the age, and is altogether -as Anti-Anglican as pedantry and an over-estimation of -the classical in art could make it. It is in the style of a Roman -Basilica, rather than of an English Church, and is far more suitable -to Tridentine notions, than any Church in England erected -before the Reformation. Still, it is beautiful; I think exceedingly -so: and St. Peter’s, in the Vatican, is as inferior to this, in -model, as this is inferior to St. Peter’s in dimensions and internal -magnificence. I give my opinion boldly, for I feel sure that -there can be no just room for difference of opinion as to this matter. -The more I saw of St. Peter’s, the less was I satisfied with -its ill-conceived and awkwardly developed bulk; while every -time I saw St. Paul’s, I found myself more and more in love -with its rich combinations of grace and majesty. How it came -to pass that Michael Angelo and his partners produced only a -magnificent monster, while Sir Christopher Wren came so near -producing a model of magnificence, it may be hard to tell; but -though the latter has its faults, no one can do less than admit, -that if the immensity of St. Peter’s embodied the same outline -and proportions which are preserved in St. Paul’s, the whole -effect of the front, as you approach it between the colonnades of -Bernini, would be inconceivably better. St. Paul’s unfortunately -has no such approach; but its great dome looms before you, -as you begin to ascend Ludgate-hill, for all the world like a peak -of the Alps descried through the gorge of Gondo. When the promised -improvements are made in the neighborhood of the churchyard, -and when a better finish and composition of details are -adopted at the eastern end, or choir, of the cathedral, it may safely -lay claim to the finest <span class='it'>coup d’œil</span> of its kind in Christendom. Its -defects are notorious, but they appear to me of minor importance; -and the double portico, at the west end, so mercilessly criticised -by the mere grammarians of architecture, strikes me as worthy -of high commendation, as a happy license in the poetry of the -art, distinguishing a Christian Church from a heathen temple. -The Pantheon and Madeleine at Paris are doubtless more correct, -but they look—the one as if Voltaire and Rousseau might -have ordered it expressly for their Mausoleum, and the other as -if Julian himself had built it in grateful remembrance of his early -friends, the Parisians.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I leave my readers to imagine the sort of enthusiasm with which -I first sauntered about the purlieus of the cathedral, and inquired of -my guide-book the actual site of the old Paul’s Cross, and strove -to conjure up the images, thereto pertaining, by witness of the -chronicler. Alas! how much rather would I have seen the old -Paul’s, which poor Laud so munificently repaired in the ill taste -of his day; and that old pulpit, in which Richard Hooker wagged -his venerable head, than all this Italian and classical display -of Wren’s! There is no relish of the past in it: and it has -little that is truly religious in its effect on the mind. Yet as -being St. Paul’s, one feels that a Greek and Roman composition -would not befit any other of the apostles, so well as it -does the one that was a Roman citizen, and the Doctor of the -Gentiles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Going to St. Paul’s to morning service, on Sunday, the fourth -of May, I entered the south transept, and for the first time beheld -its interior. The effect of the immense vault of the dome, as it -first struck my sight, was overpowering—the more so, because at -that moment, a single burst of the organ, and the swell of an <span class='it'>Amen</span> -from the choir, where service was already begun, filled the dome -with reverberations, that seemed to come upon me like thunder. -I was so unprepared for anything impressive in St. Paul’s, that I -felt a sort of recoil, and the blood flushed to my temples. I said -to an American friend, who happened to be with me—“after all, -’tis indeed sublime!” I now went forward with highly excited -expectations, and the voice of the clergyman intoning the prayers, -within the choir, increased my anxiety to be, at once, upon my -knees. I glanced at the monument of Howard, and entered beneath -the screen. The congregation seemed immense. A verger led -us quite up to the altar, and as he still found no place, conducted -us out into the aisle, where I passed the kneeling statue of Bishop -Heber, with a trembling emotion of love and admiration, and so -was led about and put into a stall, (inscribed, “Weldland,” with -the legend, <span class='it'>Exaudi Domine justitiam</span>,) where, kneeling down, I -gave myself up to the solemn worship of <span class='sc'>God</span>. And solemn worship -it was! I never, before or since, heard any cathedral -chaunting, whether in England or on the Continent, that could -be compared to it for effect. The clergyman who intoned the -Litany, knelt in the midst of the choir looking towards the altar. -Even now I seem to be hearing his full, rich voice, sonorously -and articulately, chaunting the suffrage—<span class='it'>by thy glorious Resurrection -and Ascension</span>—to which organ and singers gave response—<span class='it'>Good -Lord deliver us</span>—as with the voice of many waters. Then, -as the next suffrage was continued, the throbbings and echoes of -this organ-blast supplied a sort of under-current to its simple -tone, at first pouring down from the dome like the floods of Niagara, -and then dying off along the distant nave and aisles like -mighty waves of the ocean. Tears gushed from my eyes, and -my heart swelled to my throat, as this overwhelming worship -was continued. It was all so entirely unexpected! Cold, cheerless, -modern, all but Hanoverian St. Paul’s—who dreamed of -such a worship here! Yet so it was; and I am sure, from subsequent -experience, that it is capable of being made a most attractive -cathedral, and a very useful one. Knock away that detestable -screen, and put the organ in a better place; confine the choir -to the clergy, and compel all the canons, singers and officials of -every grade to be there; fit up the Altar end, and make it new -with a pictured window, in keeping with the architecture and -vastness of the place; subdue the light; set the pulpit at the -head of the nave, and let the entire Church be filled with worshippers -and hearers: and then, with a little decoration, and -warm colouring to aid the improved effect, we shall hear no more -of the chilliness and poverty of this august interior. It might be -made a great Missionary Church for the seamen and other laboring -classes of the city and port of London; while the aisles should -furnish a succession of chapels, for services at successive hours, -and for Sunday schools, and catechizings. Church Societies also, -such as the S. P. G., might be allowed their chapels, in which, -before sailing, Missionaries might receive the Sacrament, or -offer thanks after arriving at home. One would think, moreover, -that a fitting use might be found for the great balcony, -over the lower portico, at the west-end, if only the Dean and -Chapter would imitate the May-morning hymn of Magdalen, and, -in that public place, offer annual prayers and thanksgivings to -God, for the health, peace, and prosperity of the vast Metropolis, -to which they might make themselves the very centre of spiritual -life, by a little inventive effort, in the line of useful and benevolent -reform. Oh, for a besom and a reformer first, and then for -the line and plummet of the builder!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dean Milman appeared in the pulpit, and preached a well-written -sermon (from Acts xvii. 26,) with evident reference to -the influx of divers nations at the inauguration of the Great Exhibition. -But the Apostle, for whom the cathedral is named, -would have preached very differently, I am persuaded, to the -assembled Gentiles. In the congregation, I discovered many -foreign faces, and recognized, (by the familiar tokens of angular -features, goat-locks under the chin, and collars turned down,) -not a few of the more inquisitive and irreverent class of our own -countrymen, who seemed to think the rhetorical powers of the -worthy Dean altogether inferior to those of the stump, the camp-meeting, -and the Tabernacle in Broadway. I must allow that, -if such were their impressions, they are not much to blame. The -editor of Gibbon, and of Horace, has other claims to our respect, -and richly deserves an eminent station in the Academy, or in -schools of Taste and Art; but the orthodoxy of a Hooker, and -the zeal of a Whitefield, are the better qualifications for such a -post as the Deanery of St. Paul’s ought to be. Even a little enthusiasm -might be excused in cathedral preaching, as vastly preferable -to the frigid decorum of a style and manner quite too -rigidly harmonious with the Corinthian and classical details of the -surrounding architecture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The same day I attended Evening Service at St. Barnabas’, -Pimlico, of which everybody has heard something. At this time -Mr. Bennett had ceased to be the incumbent, and I was informed -that the less defensible practices of this Church had been discontinued, -in obedience to the injunctions of the Bishop. I cannot -say I saw anything that need have given great offence, in ordinary -times and circumstances: but I saw not a little which, in the -time of apostacies and scandals, would more inevitably scandalize -the weaker brethren, than would many far more serious sins -against charity and brotherly kindness. Had these things been -other than absolutely indifferent in themselves, or had they been -less seemingly imitative of some ceremonies foreign to our primitive -Catholicity, one might have said, at any rate, that they were -quite as tolerable as the corresponding ultraisms of the opposing -extreme in the Church. I certainly tried to feel both charity -and fraternal sympathy for the brethren of St. Barnabas’, for I -had heard them well-reported of for many good works. Yet, -my impressions were not altogether favorable. On the whole, -the effect was that of formalism beyond anything I ever saw in -our Communion. The architecture was somewhat too highly -charged with mediævalism for reformed Anglican worship, but -would be not less inappropriate, in several particulars, to modern -Romanism. It was antiquarian, rather than practical in any -respect. The service seemed to be performed in the same -æsthetic and almost histrionic spirit, even where the rubric was -strictly complied with. One could not say just what was inexcusable, -and yet felt that little was done unto edifying. The evil -seemed to be that its <span class='it'>good</span> was made to be <span class='it'>evil spoken of</span>, by the -excessive and unnatural, if not unreal way in which it was exhibited. -Good there was, undoubtedly, in the original idea of -this Church, and one scruples to impeach the motive of such displays -of zeal for the glory of God: but we have the positive rule -of St. Paul, given by precept and example, that everything beyond -what is the ordinance and custom of the Church, is to be -subordinated to the great work of evangelizing men compassed -with infirmities, and who oppose to the Gospel the divers prejudices -of the Gentile and the Jew. I am very much afraid the -contrary is the rule at St. Barnabas’. After the Evening Service, -the congregation was dismissed without a Sermon. Although the -assembly was far from large, and however true it may be that -prayers are better than preaching, in certain circumstances, I -certainly felt that a few words of exhortation might have added -a spirit of reality to the solemnities, and could not have seemed -out of place on the Lord’s Day, even at Evening Service. Still it -is but just to say that the services are so arranged, in this church, -as to secure an average both of teaching and worship, much -greater than is usual elsewhere. With all this, why cannot -a <span class='it'>bonâ fide</span> English air of earnestness be given to the whole thing? -Let us have a <span class='it'>living</span> ceremonial, at least, and a real one. The -reading which I heard was not English reading: if the preaching -be of the same sort, no wonder the people consider the whole a -mere imitation of foreign performances. An external standard, and -not the spirit of the English rubric, appears to be before the eyes -of the ministers; just as a similar standard, and not the law, seems -to have guided Dr. Lushington in his late decision against them. -Strange that while his judgment demolishes furniture to which -nothing but bigotry can object, he leaves the brazen doors of the -chancel, which are repugnant to common sense, as they almost -conceal the altar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Later in the evening, I attended St. George’s, Hanover-Square, -the Church so distinguished for marriages in high-life, and for a -fashionable <span class='it'>prestige</span> altogether. Here one sees <span class='it'>Hanover</span> indeed! The -names of its successive Churchwardens are emblazoned on the -galleries, and I observed that they were generally those of noblemen -and gentry. Fashion was much too prominent. A young and -well-looking preacher, in Episcopal robes, appeared in the pulpit, -and discoursed articulately, and with some spirit, (on Rev. xxii. -17,) though not remarkably in other respects. This was the new -Bishop of Nova Scotia, who has since entered into the labors of -his missionary field with great diligence and success.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had attended four distinct services in divers parts of the -Metropolis this day, and I was informed that I might easily have -attended as many more. Very different hours are kept in different -parishes; and it is not unusual for one, two, or even three -Morning Services to be celebrated in the same Church, to accommodate -different classes of worshippers. Such is one fruit of the -awakened vitality of the Church of England.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXI'></a>CHAPTER XI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Rambles—The Tower.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Paternoster-Row I cruised about, and came to Amen Corner -quite too soon for satisfaction. I strove also to understand -the precise bounds of Little Britain, as I plodded therein, and -bethought me of its right worshipful reputation for books and -men of letters in olden times. In Cheapside, I could see nothing -but John Gilpin and his family, till I came to Bow Church, and, -by good luck, heard a full peal of the very bells that make cockneys, -and that whilom made poor Whittington o’ the Cat a Lord -Mayor. What they were ringing for did not appear, as the -Church was shut. So I fared on through the Poultry and Corn-hill, -paying due deference to the Royal Exchange, till on a sudden, -by some odd crooks and twistings through the very ventricles of -this heart of the Metropolis, I came before the Tower. It gave -me a thrill of emotion to see it before me: and ‘here is Tower-Hill,’ -said I—‘here stood the scaffold—and I am sure these -walls must have been the last things seen, before they closed -their eyes forever, by Strafford, and by Laud, and by so many -before and after.’ And these the towers of Caesar, and their -history the history of England almost ever since his conquest!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Church of All-Hallows, Barking, happened to stand open, -much to my satisfaction, as I was threading a very narrow and -old-fashioned street near the Tower; and I entered, with a thrill -of emotion, to behold the venerable interior, where the service for -the burial of the dead was read over the bleeding corpse of Archbishop -Laud, as it was brought in just after the axe had made -him a martyr, and here temporarily interred. I remembered that -Southey remarks that the Prayer-Book itself seemed to share in -his funeral, for on the same day, the Parliament made it a crime -to use it in any solemnity whatever: and I endeavored to recall the -scene of desolation which must then have smitten to the heart -any true son of the Church of England who was its spectator, -beholding, as he did, the Primate of all England going down into -the sepulchre, as the last, apparently, of his dignity and order; -the Church herself beheaded, if not destroyed, with him; and -the Prayer-Book reading its own burial! Thank God, there I -stood, two hundred years later, a living witness of the resurrection -of that Church and its ritual, and of its powerful life, in the -new world of the West. I trust I did not offer a vain -thanksgiving upon the spot. I then looked at the old tombs and -brasses, which are interesting, if not fine. Here kneel a worshipful -old knight and his dame, with their nine or ten children, -demurely cut in alabaster, upon the common tomb of the -parents; and there is a brass, said to be Flemish, commemorating -another pair, who were laid to rest the same year that saw Bishop -Fisher and Sir Thomas More beheaded and interred in this same -Church. Here, too, is some fine carving; and some of the pews -have curious adornings, in token of their being the place for -magistrates and high parochial functionaries, of divers degrees. -Surely, no one should fail to see this Church when he visits the -Tower.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now I turned towards that old historic pile, repeating, as it -rose upon my sight, those striking lines of Gray’s—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Ye Towers of Julius, London’s lasting shame,</p> -<p class='line0'> With many a foul and midnight murder fed!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Its very foundations were laid in blood, if so be, indeed, as the -old chronicler asserts, “its mortar was tempered with the blood -of beasts;” and for long ages it has never slaked its thirst for the -blood of human beings, till now, in the halcyon days of Victoria, -it stands a lonely monument of those barbarian elements, out of -which has risen the nobler fabric of British freedom. Nor should -it be forgotten, that popular violence as well as princely tyranny, -has glutted the spot with murder. Of the many worthies whom -we must remember here, none were more grossly butchered than -Laud and Strafford, the victims of a ravening fanaticism; unless -we except those gentler sufferers, whose sex and spotless innocence -leave their murderers without even the appearance of -excuse. A cold chill fell upon me as I entered the fatal precincts, -thinking how many had passed the same gates never to -return. If there be a haunted spot in all the world, it should be -this Tower; and, indeed, strange stories are on credible record, -which might well assist the fancy in conceiving that the ghosts -of its old tenants, of the fouler sort, do sometimes revisit the -scene of their dark and dreadful deaths.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The red-liveried yeomen, in the costume of the guards of -Edward VI., receive you as you enter the gate beneath its old -portcullis, and these are themselves no poor auxiliaries to your -efforts at reproducing the past. One of them (they are popularly -known as <span class='it'>beef-eaters</span>) conducts you to the Armory and Jewel-room -forthwith, it being taken for granted that you have come to see -these things particularly. Imagine yourself, then, passing through -an immense outer-wall, in the circuit of which are set, like sentinels, -the several inferior citadels, known as the Bloody Tower, the -Beauchamp Tower, and the like. You gain the open court, or -area, and in the centre rises the immense quadrangular and turreted -mass, which overhangs this part of London: it is the Keep, or -White Tower, called also Cæsar’s, though built by William the -Norman. You pass the Bloody Tower, in which the young -princes were smothered by the hunch-back Richard, and are -shown into the Armory. Here you see, amid all sorts of bristling -weapons, the sovereigns of England, from Edward I. to -James II., all on horseback, and most of them in the armour of -their times. The growth and decline of knightly harness is thus -exhibited entire, from the “twisted mail” of Edward’s hauberk, -down to the merely ornamental breast-plate of the recreant -Stuart. What a procession! Some of the visors are down, and -others are lifted—but to an imaginative eye, every figure appears -instinct with vitality. Their very steeds, in their plated steel and -ancient housings, seem clothed with thunder. Elizabeth, of -course, retains her own fantastic costume, but there she sits -before you, in spite of her peacock display, a glorious memorial -of Tilbury, and you can fancy her prancing before her troops, -and inspiring them to repel the “foul scorn” of the Armada. -That very suit of armour, now stuffed with the resemblance of her -father, was once worn by bluff old Hal himself; and further on, -is the beautiful array of steel, in which the goodly limbs of the -Royal Martyr were once actually encased. Nor are the heroes -of this august Valhalla without other trophies of their times and -achievements. Here are bills, pikes and partizans, Lochaber-axes -and glaives, broadswords and stilettoes; and then all manner -of fire-arms, from the earliest and heaviest matchlock down -through all the grades of muskets, to musketoons, pistols, and -pistolets. And then there are saw-shot, and bar-shot, and -spike-shot, and star-shot; and then culverins and petards; and -weapons offensive and defensive of all sorts and kinds. And -they bear marks of having been well used in their day. Here -the wars of the Roses have battered a helmet and pierced a -shield: through that hole in the corslet, once spouted the rich -blood of a hero at Tewksbury: that visor was rusted by the last -sigh of another such as Marmion, on Flodden-field. Even this -bludgeon of a staff, with pistols at the handle, has dealt midnight -blows in the hands of the British Blue-beard, as he patrolled the -streets of his capital, in the spirit of Haroun Al Raschid, somewhat -heightened by the spirit of wine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was not above looking curiously and thoughtfully at the exhibition -of Popery, displayed in the relics of the Armada. At -the Crystal Palace there was a very bold and enticing parade of -the modern instruments of this Protean enthusiasm, in the shape -of candlesticks and monstrances, thuribles and pyxes, and all -sorts of embroideries, spangles, laces, and millinery. By such -things it would convert England now. In Elizabeth’s day, its -missionaries were less attractive. Bilboes, collars, thumb-screws, -and iron cravats; stocks, fetters, and manacles; a sort of portable -Inquisition was, in short, the great reliance of the Pope in -those times, for the reduction of the heretic English: and here, -no doubt, old Fuller would go on to say, that “if forsooth we -should feel closely about the fine things of even modern Poperie, -we might, perchance, find a prickly point, or a sharp edge, or a -rough chain, if not faggots and gun-powder also, stowed away -among all their fancy stuffes and petticoats.” I could not satisfy -myself with looking at these antiquarian treasures however, nor -shall I attempt to satisfy my reader by detailing them. Let him -think how he would feel to touch the very axe that divided the little -fair neck of Anne Boleyn, and the stiffer sinews of the Earl of -Essex. Even the block on which old Lovat laid his worthless -head, loaded with crimes as many as his hoary hairs, gives one a -shudder, though no man pitied him when he fell. It is, moreover, -a monument of interest, because there the axe stayed, and -has never since been lifted on the head of a British subject. He -died in 1746, in the cause of the young Pretender; and possibly -this fact suggested to me the thought, (by which alone I can convey -any just idea of this Armory,) that the whole exhibition -seems to be a complete property-room of the Waverley novels. -If the characters of those successive tales could have deposited -in one room the antiquarian implements and costumes to which -they gave a sort of resurrection, they would have furnished us -with very much such a collection as that of this Armory of the -Tower.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A new stone strong room has been built for the Royal Jewels, -and one now sees the Regalia by day-light. It is a glittering -show; but nothing seems to be very ancient in the collection, -except the spoon wherewith anointing oil has been poured -on all the royal heads that have been crowned since the days of -Edward the Confessor. How many Archbishops have held its -handle; how many princes have been touched with its bowl! At -the bare thought, all the history of England seemed to rise -before my sight, and I felt that there is a value in such symbols -of a Nation’s continuous existence. When displayed, not as -gewgaws of a vulgar pomp, but as the memorials of a fruitful -antiquity, they cannot but inspire a sentiment of veneration in -every beholder, and serve to keep alive the vestal flame of loyalty -and love for a throne which is invested, indeed, with traditional -splendours, but which rests on the surer foundations of existing -freedom and righteous law.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I stood again in the open court, I longed to be told -nothing so much as where the old Archbishop was confined, -when he gave Strafford that parting benediction. It had been -arranged by Usher, their common friend, that they should thus -take leave of one another. The noble Strafford came forth -walking to the scaffold on Tower-hill, but craved permission to -do his last observance to his friend. For a moment he feared -the old primate had forgotten him, but just then he appeared at -the dismal window of his own prison. “My Lord—your prayers -and your blessing”—said Strafford, kneeling down: and the -benediction was given accordingly; after which the primate -swooned in a fit of sorrow, while the stout Earl rising, said, -“God protect your innocence,” and then stepped onward with a -military bearing, and passed to his execution, as if it were to a -triumph. Somewhere here, all this went on! I could almost -fancy it before my eye. Then, too, I thought of Raleigh. And -here, hard by, was the undoubted spot, within the walls, where -stood the scaffold on which suffered the Queens Anne Boleyn and -Katharine Howard; and Lady Jane Gray, more lovely and more -innocent than either. But it was not the thing to be looking at -such a spot in broad daylight. How much I should have been -pleased with the privilege of lodging, just one night in the White -Tower, not to sleep, but to stand at my window and look out -upon the Court, and upon Tower-hill, by pale moonlight, and so—to -think, and think, and think!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By dint of perseverance, I gained admission to the Beauchamp -Tower, occupied at present by some officers as a mess-room. -The apartments are covered with carvings and inscriptions, the -work of many illustrious prisoners, in past times, and with some -that merely tell of human sorrow, mysteriously, and without the -name of any one that is known, to satisfy the curiosity they excite. -A rich carving, in which figures the well-known <span class='it'>bear and -ragged staff</span>, reveals the prison thoughts of Dudley, Earl of Warwick, -father-in-law to the Lady Jane. There is another inscription, -very naturally ascribed to poor Lord Guilford Dudley—the simple -letters IANE. His sweet Jane was soon to breathe her -farewells to him from her own lonely cell, and, after seeing his -bleeding corpse brought in from the scaffold, to follow him to the -block. The initials R. D. betray the work of another Dudley, -who lived to be the favorite of Elizabeth, and the dismal husband -of Amy Robsart. Here figure also memorials of Henry’s -victims, and of the Marian Confessors, and not a few of those -who suffered under the last of the Tudors. Underneath these -rooms is the “rats’ dungeon,” where many have suffered the extreme -of human agony; and directly overhead is “the doleful -prison” of Anne Boleyn. Remorseless, indeed, must have been -the heart of her husband, if in truth she sent him the letter, said -to have been endited there, and if, after reading it, he could -still abandon to the block the head that had so often reclined in -his bosom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was resolved not to leave these awful precincts until I had -also visited the Church of <span class='it'>St. Peter ad Vincula</span>, the burial-place -of so many of those whom I had thus endeavored to recall to -mind. After some patience and perseverance I was admitted, -and stood upon what a clever writer has justly called one of the -saddest spots on earth. So many graves, of so many destroyed -worthies, are here gathered together, that one necessarily thinks, -as he stands by them, of the day of judgment. What a resurrection -there will be in this place at that day—a resurrection of the -just and the unjust! The Church is sadly disfigured, and should -be reverently restored, but its pointed arches and mural monuments, -with kneeling figures, and one rich altar-tomb, with effigies, -still elevate the interior above an ordinary effect. Near -this tomb repose the bodies of the weak Kilmarnock and the -sturdy Balmerino; and upon my saying something about them to -the sexton, he told me that, in digging lately, he had come to the -relics of their coffins. He then lifted a cushion in one of the -seats, and showed me the coffin-plates, which he had taken from -the earth. Sure enough, there they were, quite legible, inscribed -with their names and titles, and the sad date, 1746. I remembered -how I had read in a contemporary number of “The Gentleman’s -Magazine,” and in Horace Walpole’s gossip, the contrary -impressions made upon these Jacobites by the scene in which -they were to suffer. Kilmarnock acted pitiably, for his conscience -was alive to his sin and folly; but Balmerino was troubled -with very little of a conscience whatever, and what he had was -such as to persuade him that he was dying in a good cause. The -old hero cried “God save King James,” to the last; and, striding -up to his coffin, put on his glasses, and read this very inscription, -and said it was all right. Now, I was reading it fresh from the -earth, after a hundred years had gone by. It greatly moved me. -Then, I thought of Laud hobbling into this chapel, lame and -feeble, leaning on his servant, but standing up amid the people, -while the preacher railed at him; said preacher wearing his -gown over a buff jerkin, as the holder, at the same time, of a -parochial benefice in Essex, and the captaincy of a troop of -horse in the rebel army! But where did memories begin or end, -when I tried to collect them in such a place? Here lies, beneath -the altar, the daring Duke of Monmouth, hacked and hewed to -death by his awkward headsman; and, not less barbarously murdered, -here lies that venerable lady, the last of the Plantagenets. -Cromwell lies there, for helping Henry Bluebeard; and there, -too, More and Fisher, for resisting him; Anne Boleyn and Lord -Rochford lie there, for being innocent; and Katherine Howard -and lady Rochford, for being guilty. Two Dukes are buried -between the two Queens; and there Lord Guilford Dudley once -more reposes with his lovely Lady Jane. Here lies brother slain -by brother, the slayer sharing, in his turn, the fate of the slain; -and these, with Monmouth, mercilessly condemned by his uncle, -and the two Queens murdered by their own husband, seem to -accomplish the melancholy record with associations of crime the -most complicate, and of accountability the most dreadful that -can well be imagined. Oh, God! what reckonings yet to be -settled by Thee alone, are laid up against that day, even in the -little compass of these walls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I made a parting circuit to survey the Bloody Tower and its -sharp-toothed portcullis—the only one in England that still rises -and falls in a gate-way, and refuses not its office; the Bowyer’s -Tower, in which poor Clarence was drowned in Malmsey; the -Brick Tower, said to have been the prison of Lady Jane Grey; -and the Salt Tower, which, with its adjoining wall, I found -nearly demolished, and in process of restoration. Finally, I -went round upon the water-side and surveyed the Traitor’s Gate, -so called. Here, then, are the jaws of this devouring monster, -sated at last, apparently; but who knows? Under that arch have -passed, one after another, those great historic characters, whose -names we have already reviewed. They abandoned hope when -they entered here; and almost always with good reason. One -alone on whom, in youthful sorrow, and by a sister’s cruel injunction, -these massive gates yawned and closed, became, in turn, -their mistress; and—alas! for human nature—made them often -gape for others. Think of Elizabeth Tudor passing under this -arch, the captive of the Bloody Mary! Who then could have -foreseen the days of Hooker, and of Burleigh, and of Shakspeare? -Think of old Laud in his barge, day after day, returning -through this arch from his trial, to his prison, exhausted and -panting like a hart pierced by the archers, from the cruel shafts -of Prynne and his confederates, but accompanied, perhaps, by his -noble defender, Sir Matthew Hale. Oh! could he but have seen -the Anglican Church of the nineteenth century, how thin would -have seemed the clouds which were gathering around her at that -awful period, and which he feared, no doubt, were to overwhelm -her forever. Such were some of the thoughts, partly sad, but -largely grateful, with which I found myself chained to the place; -and even when it was time to go, still disposed to linger about -the spot, and bend musingly above the Traitors’ Gate of the -Tower.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXII'></a>CHAPTER XII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Two Nights in the House of Commons.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>As soon as I could devote an evening to the purpose, I made -my first visit to the House of Commons, going at a very early -hour in the afternoon, and sitting through the whole till after -midnight. This House, since removed to the new Palace, then -held its sessions in what was formerly the House of Lords, said -to be the scene of all the historic events which have illustrated -that body for ages, down to the reign of William Fourth. It -was fitted up for the Commons after the fire of 1834, which -destroyed St. Stephen’s Chapel. It was, first of all, the hall of -Edward Confessor’s Palace; was subsequently the scene of a -fierce passage in the life of Cœur-de-Lion; and also of that -romantic incident which Shakspeare makes the first scene in his -Richard Second. There Bacon presided, and was impeached, -and fell. Lord Chatham’s expiring effort was made there; and -there he thundered those noble remonstrances against the American -war, in which our own history is so intimately concerned. -Its fitting-up, however, for the temporary use of the Commons, -gave it a very modern appearance, and it was as plain as can -well be imagined. Before I returned to America, its interior had -been pulled to pieces, and the materials sold under the hammer. -I saw it, therefore, in the Omega of its legislative uses, centuries -having expired since its Alpha. Mr. Lawrence, our worthy -Ambassador, had kindly supplied me with a ticket, which admitted -the bearer to the diplomatic benches. These are on the floor -of the House, and are only separated from those of the members -by a nominal division; so that, in fact, I found myself surrounded -by them. At first the House was thin, and it grew thinner -towards seven o’clock; but at about nine o’clock it began to fill -again, the members returning from their dinners, most of them in -full dress. The earlier hours were consumed in dull and unimportant -matters, and business seemed to drag on like the daylight, -till the place began to be as stupid as it was dark and gloomy; -when suddenly the Speaker touched a bell, and a flood of soft -light was showered from the ceiling, not a lamp or burner being -visible. This mode of illumination was quite new to me, -although I have heard of similar effects produced in the same -way in America. It seemed to quicken and cheer up everything, -till the Speaker left his place suddenly, (for refreshments, -it was said,) and then all stood still, the members yawning and -lounging about, and talking in a very undignified manner. When -the Speaker returned, business seemed to have begun. A message -was received from the House of Lords, with the usual -formalities; but, I observed that as the messenger backed out, -making his three bows, he stumbled, and excited a laugh, at -which he also laughed, and then retired, winking and exchanging -grimaces with sundry acquaintances, as much as to say—who -cares. He was dressed in wig and gown, and was probably one -of the clerks of the Lords; and he was attended in the Commons -by the Sergeant-at-Arms, who was dressed in court-costume, and -during the ceremony carried the Mace on his shoulder. The -sight of “that bauble” revived the recollection of scenes in the -House of Commons of a very different character.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great business of the evening was a debate on the Malt-tax, -which brought out all the strength of the House, and enabled -the opposition to talk “Protection,” with a show of very great -sympathy for the distresses of “the British farmer.” Mr. Disraeli -made a great speech, in his way; but it is a very poor way, his -whole manner being declamatory and sophomorical in the extreme. -I had met him several times as I sauntered through Pall -Mall, and looked in vain for any traces in his face and manner -of the clever author of Coningsby and its successors. A jaunty -and rather flashy young man, with black ringlets, twisted about a -face quite devoid of elevated expression—such was the impression -he gave me in the open air, and in the House of Commons I -saw nothing at variance with it. He is certainly a man of parts, -but that such as he should have forced his way to the Leadership -of the House of Commons, only proves the extreme mediocrity -of this generation. That he is a Jew is a great bar to his -advancement, although he is a Jewish Christian. He affects, -however, to be very proud of his <span class='it'>Oriental</span> origin, and perhaps he -may be so; but one feels that he cannot be confided in, and that -he is a mere adventurer. He seemed to me to ape Sir Robert -Peel, in his way of thrusting his arm behind the skirts of the -coat, and exposing the whole waistcoat in a flaring manner. I -have heard as good talking at a debating club as he treated us to -that night in the House of Commons. Still he made some good -hits at Ministers, and was often interrupted by cries of <span class='it'>hear, hear, -hear</span>, which are rather muttered than vociferated around the -benches. He has since been Chancellor of the Exchequer, himself -adopting the very policy which he then abused in terms the -most noisy and passionate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ministers were, of course, not slow in replying, and I had a -chance of beholding some of the expiring grimaces of Lord -John Russell, whose feeble government was just ready to fall to -pieces of itself. I knew the man as soon as I saw him in the -House. There he sat, under a hat that seemed to extinguish -his features, trying to laugh and look good-natured. At last he -rose, and I observed that the familiar caricatures of <span class='it'>Punch</span> were -in fact good likenesses. He is his own caricature. A diminutive -utterer of “great, swelling words;” paltry, and yet pompous; -and altogether as insignificant a person as I ever saw dressed in -brief authority. He had only a few plain things to say, and yet -he contrived to utter them, as if he were saying—“I am Sir -Oracle.” Cries of <span class='it'>divide</span> had circulated pretty freely during the -whole debate, and now I saw a division. A personage who had -been very polite to me during the evening, volunteered to put me -where I might see the whole process. Just before the division, -members came running in from the clubs, and the “whipper-in” -returned to his seat, having discharged his duty in securing the -attendance of votes for the Government. Members had been -pairing off the whole time, apparently to attend a ball or the -Opera, as the pairs were nearly always in full dress. Their -negotiations seemed to be made near the bar of the House, and -the Speaker was constantly silencing the buzz of members and -spectators, by the cry of “order—order,” or “order at the bar,” -which Mr. Shaw Lefevre knows how to speak most potently. -At length for the division, the galleries were cleared at the -sound of certain bells, which the Speaker appeared to pull; but -my kind Mentor clapped me into a sort of lobby, like a closet, -in the door of which was a pane of glass, through which I saw -the entire performance at my ease, and quite by myself. Less -fortunate visitors were entirely ejected, and then the members -themselves went into the lobby, and so passed in again, their -names being pricked by the tellers as they passed, and the whole -operation taking but a few minutes. The Ministry had a handsome -majority. Before the House rose that evening, there was -another division; and it so happened that I heard most of the -men of mark. Sir Charles Wood, Chancellor of the Exchequer, -Hume and Bright, the amusing Colonel Sibthorp, and the -Milesian Reynolds, all talked, and some of them several times. -Mr. Keogh excited the significant cry of <span class='it'>oh, oh</span>, with laughter, -and made some sport by rejoining, “the gentlemen may cry <span class='it'>oh</span>, -but still it is true.” An allusion to the Scottish Universities -brought Sir Robert Inglis to his feet, and he said a few pertinent -words, in a manner worthy of himself as the best specimen in -the House of a true English gentleman of the old school. Mr. -Sidney Herbert spoke in a handsome manner, and Mr. Gladstone -also made a very spicy little speech, which seemed to annoy his -opponents not a little. The House sat till two o’clock, but I -finally gave it up, and left before the end. As I came out into -Old Palace Yard, and saw the towers of the Abbey in the still -solemnity of the night, it seemed more strikingly majestic than -before. I thought what mighty interests of Empires had been -settled here, and how often Chatham, Fox, Pitt and Canning, -had emerged at midnight from such scenes as I had just left, -looking on the same towers, beneath which they now moulder in -the dust. The sombre mass of the Abbey seemed a commentary -on the hot debates from which I was retiring; a speaking monitor -of the transient interests of the present, and of the eternal -issues of futurity, as well as of the unchangeableness of the -past.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I walked slowly to my lodgings, I passed Whitehall. Scarce -any one was in the street, and all was silence. I stopped, and -gazed on the white walls of the Banqueting-room, and said to -myself, ‘how strange! here I am alone on this most memorable -spot, in the deep and solemn night. Can it be that here, where -all is now so quiet, there stood two hundred years ago a crowd -of human beings, every one of whom was experiencing, at the -moment, emotions the most singularly mixed and tumultuous that -ever agitated the human soul? Can it be that from this same -white wall issued the figure of King Charles, and that there—just -there—he knelt at the block, and in a moment was a headless -corpse? Even so! Here rose that groan of a mighty multitude, -sighing as one man, and there the ghastly headsman stood, -holding up the royal head by its anointed locks, and crying—<span class='it'>this</span> -<span class='it'>is the head of a traitor!</span>’ I almost turned about to see whether -Cromwell’s troopers were not charging down upon me, so strong -was the impression of the spot; but just then, the sight of a solitary -policeman, patrolling beneath a gas-lamp, recalled me to myself, -and I fared thoughtfully, by the statue at Charing-Cross, -towards my temporary home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Papal aggression was still, in spite of the Crystal Palace -and its wonders, an absorbing topic, and my second visit to the -House of Commons had been set for an evening when a debate -upon that exciting subject was to be part of the entertainment. -I felt sure that such an evening in the House would be, in some -measure, an historical one, and might be useful to me through -life, in watching the course of religious and political events. -Besides, I wanted to hear a debate that should enable me to compare, -by its unity of subject, a Parliament of Victoria, with those -of the Plantagenets and Tudors. I had my desire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seems impossible for the American mind to appreciate -rightly the very grave injury which has been done to the British -nation by the attempt of the Papal Court to erect Episcopal -Sees, and bestow corresponding titles within the jurisdiction of -the British Church, and under the shadow of the British Crown. -But when it is considered that the Pope has thus attempted to -exercise a power to which he could never have aspired even when -England wore his yoke, and which would not now be suffered by -any Popish sovereignty in Europe; when, to say nothing of the -outrage to the Church of England, the direct attempt upon the -allegiance of subjects is considered, and its bearings upon the -future are duly weighed: no well-informed mind can hesitate a -moment as to the propriety of the feelings which it so generally -inflamed, or retain any other astonishment, than a profound one, -at the feebleness and utter imbecility of the measures with which -the advisers of the greatest Sovereign in existence have allowed -her to meet the invasion. It was not a moment for hesitation, -or for consulting economics; a demand should have been made -upon the Pontiff for an immediate alteration of his attitude towards -England, and the least attempt to palter on his part should -have been responded to by a British fleet off Civita Vecchia. If -France was an obstacle to such a demonstration, and if “the -peace of Europe” must be kept at all hazards,—even the hazard -of a speedy Armageddon to pay for it—if such be the England -of 1850—alas for the extinction of the England of 1588! Is -the spirit of Elizabeth past revival?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Since 1830, the whigs, laboring, as Mr. Macaulay now confesses, -under a delusion as to the ameliorated spirit of the Papacy, -have gradually advanced the Romanists to great power and influence. -They had introduced them to parliaments; had flattered -them with ecclesiastical titles; and unavailingly tried to -propitiate them with gifts. Finally, hoping to secure the Pope’s -aid in the management of Ireland, they had advanced, step by -step, to a point from which they could not recede, and at which -they ventured to go further, and actually invite him to the daring -encroachment, which to their horror and amazement, set all England -in a blaze. At every step of this infamous and foolish compromise -with Rome, true Churchmen had protested, and pleaded, -and struggled in vain; but these true men were now confounded -in the disgrace of an alarming apostacy, owing to a popular misapprehension, -and it was easy to turn the whole fury of the fire -upon them. Lord John, detected in the very act of inviting the -Pope’s attempt, had the cunning to point at them, and lay it on -the “Tractarians.” The trick succeeded: the Romanizers were -gratified, for they wished well to any but the friends of a Church -which they meant to abandon and destroy; the Evangelicals -swelled the outcry, which brought popular gales to their own -canvass; and the Ministry chuckled behind their fingers. The -Romanists were triumphant, since they had the Ministry in their -power; and the only real sufferers by all the tumult and indignation -thus aroused, were the very class who alone had contested -every inch of ground with Popery and the Whigs, from the -“Emancipation” of 1829, to its sequel and direct consequence, -the “Aggression,” twenty years afterwards!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the very just review of the existing question, which -in different ways was brought before the House on the evening of -the ninth of May, 1851. The debate was on a motion of Mr. -Urquhart, to the effect that “the act of the Pope had been -encouraged by the conduct and declarations of her Majesty’s -Government; and that large expectations of remedy had been -stimulated by Lord John’s letter to the Bishop of Durham, which -his measures had entirely disappointed.” The member pressed -his resolution (offered as an amendment to the proposed bill) by a -reference to the history at which we have glanced, and by calling -to mind some former passages in the political life of the Prime -Minister, which it could scarcely have been comfortable for him -to hear just at that moment. Sir George Grey, in a very feeble -speech, replied in behalf of his friend, from the Treasury bench, -and amused himself at some length, at the expense of Mr. Urquhart, -without really affecting his argument. Lord John Manners retorted -with not a little force, at least in his matter. He declared -the proposed amendment a mere truism, and yet one of practical -utility. Lord John had successfully thrown dust in the eyes of -the people. Lord Powis and Mr. Dudley Perceval had in vain -endeavored to place the facts before the country. Then followed -a passage of pungency and truth. “The Prime Minister,” he -said, “had twice encouraged the acts against which his puny and -delusive legislation was now directed; had twice defeated the -modest attempt of the Church of England to place Bishops of -her own in the great towns now occupied by the Pope; had -granted to Popish Bishops, in all the Colonies, precedence over -Anglican Bishops; had yielded similar favors to the Romish titularies -in Ireland; had pertinaciously resisted the fair demands of -the Irish Church for Scriptural Education; and yet—after a -public policy which had been one unvaried monotone of insult -and wrong to the Church of England—had contrived, by one -magic stroke of the pen, to place himself before the country as -the champion of English Protestantism, and as the only effectual -antagonist of the encroachments of the Church of Rome.” A -Romish member now rose, and, while opposing the amendment, -paid a singular tribute to its truth. “He was not the man to -blame the noble Lord for encouraging the Pope’s measures; but -he blamed him for now attempting to contend with the direct -consequences of his own flattering policy.” After a rambling -and incoherent speech, of tiresome length, from a Mr. Stanford, -who supported the amendment, Sir Robert Inglis rose and opposed -it with characteristic dignity, and with that grave and sober -earnestness which, under the manifest control of taste and judgment, -seems always uppermost in all his utterances. He showed -that, if the amendment were passed, it would defeat the bill. -However true, therefore, he must oppose it, because the bill -was all that the Government had offered to do, and something -must be done. He had no objection to calling on the Government -to do more; he thought that Lord John might fairly be -asked to meet, in full, the expectations he had excited; but he -could not vote for an amendment which would effectually prevent -the doing of anything to carry out the just wishes of the -country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sir Robert, during his remarks, dropped an expression, for the -first time, if I am not mistaken, which soon became familiar. -He spoke of the opposition of the <span class='it'>Irish Brigade</span>, referring to the -Romish members then sitting, and voting together, with an appearance -of complete drill, and of absolute obedience to one -command. The expression was repeated as a quotation by -another member, and raised a laugh, as something freshly caught -up, and this seemed to mark it as a hit. Finally, Mr. Reynolds, -the apparent leader of the Brigade, gave it complete success by -replying to it. Sir Robert, after quietly delivering his remarks, -had walked round from his seat, and was conversing with a -friend, (while he twirled in his hand a rose, that he had taken -from his button-hole,) when Mr. Reynolds stepped into his place, -with a sort of bog-trotting movement, and facetiously remarked -that, it might seem strange to see him standing, as it were, in the -shoes of the venerable baronet, who had just called him and his -countrymen, “the Irish Brigade.” He then acknowledged that -they were banded together against the bill, and “against every -other, good or bad, which its author might propose.” He thus -avowed their purpose, to throw their entire force against the -Government, until Lord John should be driven out of power. -He then went on with Irish volubility, and the no less characteristic -accent of the Patlander, to belabor Lord John’s bill. He -told not a little truth: called it “<span class='it'>sham</span> legislation;” stuck out his -finger towards the Minister, and said, “If ye pass it, ye dare not -put it into execution.” Here, however, he gave it the praise of being -quite the thing for its purpose—“a cruel and persecuting -measure—which, as such, had received the approbation of <span class='it'>the -Protestant watchdog of Oxford University</span>.” By this epithet, significant -of high fidelity, but not intended to be particularly respectful, -he gave Sir Robert a Rowland for his Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The residue of this gentleman’s speech was amusing enough, -as coming from a Papist. He was for liberty of conscience; -couldn’t bear to think of religious persecution; and, as for the -Queen, she had no subjects in the world that could compare with -her Irish subjects, for the devoted affection with which they regarded -her. One would think it a pity that such homage as he -professed for a heretic sovereign, had not been as fashionable -among his co-religionists in the days of Guido Fawkes, or of the -Spanish Armada.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At last, Lord John himself rose to reply. I thought of the -history of the house of Bedford, from the back-stairs of Henry -VIII., when, as Burke expresses it, “the lion having gorged his -share of the Ecclesiastical carcase, flung the offal to his jackal,” -down to the council-chamber of Victoria, where the jackal still -waits on the lion, in the shape of this insatiable devourer of the -Church’s bread, and not less insatiable thirster for her blood. -How should he dare lift up his voice to apologize for the brand -of infamy which this evening’s debate had stamped upon his -career as a Minister, or rather which it merely showed to have been -already set by his own hands! Forth he stepped, like himself -alone, and with the same pomposity to which I have already -adverted, went through a few incantations, which ended in a -fresh transformation of the diminutive conjurer before us, into a -most earnest “deviser of securities for the crown and the nation.” -He called the opposition “mean and shabby”—for such courtesies -seem to be the seven locks of a rhetorical Samson, in his -conception—and with a front of brass, only equalled by the -audacity of his imputations upon true sons of the Church of -England, declared “there had been nothing in the conduct of -the Government which had a tendency to provoke the aggression.” -He sat down, in his littleness, and was instantly pounced -upon by Disraeli, from the opposite side of the table, as it were -by a hungry terrier. “Is it a fact,” then, said he, “or is it not, -that the First Minister of the Crown has himself in this House -expressed an opinion, that <span class='it'>he saw no harm in Romish Bishops assuming -territorial titles in this realm of England</span>? Is it a fact, or is -it not, in the recollection of this House, and in the burning memory -of this country? Is it a fact, or is it not, that a Secretary -of State, in another place, has expressed his hope that Romish -Bishops would soon take seats as Peers of Parliament in the -House of Lords? Is it a fact, or is it not, that a member of the -Cabinet has been sent as Plenipotentiary to Italy, and held frequent -and encouraging conversations with the Pope? Is it a -fact, or is it not, that the Pope condescended to intimate to said -Ambassador his gracious purposes to do something <span class='it'>that might affect -England</span>; and is it a fact, or is it not, that the Plenipotentiary -thought it unnecessary to inquire what it might be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lord John here rallied, and interrupted the speaker, by saying -that “he had admitted the fact of a <span class='it'>report that the Pope said so</span>, but -had also stated that Lord Minto denied having heard it.” Thus -terrier seemed to have rat in his fangs, but rat could still show -his teeth to terrier. It was the first impeachment to which he -had ventured any reply; and, by replying to this, he convicted -himself of the more grave charges, which he was obliged to hear -in silence, with his hat slouched down over his criminal features. -Who can feel any respect for an English patrician, caught in -such a felony, and proved as truly a moral delinquent, on a -gigantic scale, as ever a petty thief at the Old Bailey on a small -one? Oh! for a conscience in mankind to save their sympathy -for the poor wretch in the bail-dock, and to consign to merited -infamy the titled and decorated offender, whose crime is unfaithful -stewardship in the State, and treason to the Crown Imperial -of the Most High God! I have no abstract prejudice against a -peerage. For my own country only do I deprecate the idea of -an aristocracy; but what are patricians worth, if they cannot -present to the State, in which they are an organic part, a high -and wholesome example of integrity and honour? In my heart, -therefore, as I looked at this scion of the house of Bedford in -his moral degradation, I felt—would that he might know the -unaffected pity with which a republican looks at him from this -gallery, as a man, in this great crisis of history, false to his -rank, false to his sovereign, false to his country, and false to his -Redeemer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Disraeli paid no attention to his disclaimers, but, as it were, -buffeted him smartly with another hit—“Is it a fact, or is it not, -that the Vice-Royalty of Ireland was in indirect communication -with the Pope, and expressed affection for his person, and reverence -for his character?” This brought out enthusiastic cheers; -and Lord John tried to emerge from beneath his hat, to look -contemptuous. Ministers had a small majority. But Lord -John must have felt that his time was coming, while, no doubt, -Mr. Disraeli began to draw as near in fancy, to the envied bench -on which he sat so little at ease. The latter had done decidedly -better than when I heard him before; but, when the division -was taken, I could not but say to myself—is this all that England’s -Senators have to say in such a matter? I felt that there were -few of them alive to the importance of the thing in hand; and -that no one seemed equal to the support of old England in consistency -with herself. Was this, indeed, the Senate in which -Burke had uttered his voice? Was it the hall in which Chatham -had rescued from the last disgrace the honour of his country? -And were there to be no words, like his—burning words—living -words—immortal words—to prove forever that England took not -her shame in abject submission! At least no such words were -spoken. There was not even a John of Gaunt there, to bewail -the disgrace of “the dear, dear isle,”</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Dear for her reputation through the world;”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>and, notwithstanding the eminent exceptions to the remark, I said -to myself, as I left the House after midnight—I seem to have -been hearing only a “debate in the Senate of Lilliput.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seemed strange, before I sat at breakfast, early next morning, -to take up the <span class='it'>Times</span>, and read, in four or five columns, a very -tolerable report of the whole proceedings, and many of the words -which seemed, even then, to have scarcely ceased to sound in my -ear. I cannot but add the remark, that it is a great pity the -amendment, which I had heard debated, failed to pass. It would -have loaded Lord John with the full consequences of his own -conduct, and it would have saved England from the degradation -of enacting a law, devised as a mere expedient, and which affords -to the enemy the darling satisfaction of defying it with impunity.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>The House of Lords—Their Lordships in Session.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The new House of Lords is a superb specimen of modern art; -and, in every way, is worthy of the hereditary Senate of the -British Empire. Perhaps it is too small for full effect, and yet, -if larger, it would hardily answer the purposes of speaking and -hearing. Its dimensions, however, are symbolical of its character, -as intended for the use of a very select assembly; and would -seem to indicate, moreover, (to copy once more the manner of -Fuller,) that the Whigs are not to reign forever, seeing that if -such as my Lord John Russell should long continue in power, there -would need be built a much larger hall to contain all the broken -lawyers, hack politicians, Popish Bishops, and rich Jews, who -might justly expect, from former examples, to be fitted up with -coronets, coats of arms, and patents of nobility. The like idea -seems to obtain, moreover, in the decorations of the hall, in -which History is artfully blended with Religion and Chivalry; -implying, if my republican comprehension can rightly interpret -this writing on the wall, that to be a true patrician, one must -have historical antecedents, and should represent some great fact -in the annals of one’s country; and that such antecedents, to be -made honourable to an individual, must be sustained by personal -worth, and by that refined and sublimated virtue which is called -honour. Thus, for example, a Nelson or a Wellington is a -nobleman by the historic origin of his family, although of modern -date; while, with respect to “all the blood of all the Howards,” -it is equally true, that if devoid of corresponding traits of magnanimity -and honesty, its degenerate inheritor is, after all, only -fit to be hooted at as a poltroon and a villain. This principle I -fully understand, American as I am. I feel that something is due -to the worthy representative of a name illustrious in the annals -of a great nation; but your mere Lord Moneybags, or the spiritless -and unprincipled shadow of a name that was once right-honourable, -are creatures with whose acquaintance I should feel -it somewhat discreditable to be bored. Every man who has -moral worth, and who respects himself accordingly, must entertain -a degree of honest contempt for such company, somewhat -akin to that of good old Johnson, in his thread-bare coat, when -he wrote his inimitable letter to Chesterfield.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>However, their Lordships’ House! There is the Throne; and -I defy any one to look at the Throne of England without veneration. -It is a gorgeous seat, over which appear the royal arms, -while on its right and left are seats for the Prince Consort and -the Prince of Wales. A splendid canopy overhangs the dais on -which these seats are ranged, and the dais itself is covered with -a carpet of “scarlet velvet pile, spotted with heraldic lions and -roses.” The ceiling is ribbed with massive gilded bands, and -richly bossed and set with devices in all the colours of blazonry. -Between the lofty windows are niches intended to receive the -bronze statues of the old Magna Charta Barons, while the windows -themselves are filled with stained glass, commemorative of -the Kings and Queens of England. The subordinate ornaments -and furniture are all in keeping. On the right hand of the -Throne, are the seats appropriate to the Bishops, where the -Church “lifts her mitred front” before the Sovereign, and teaches -her by whom she reigns, and how she may execute judgment. -But directly in front of the Throne is the <span class='it'>woolsack</span>, covered with -red cloth, and otherwise made suitable to “the keeper of the -Queen’s conscience,” who ordinarily sits thereon. Before this -are the clerks’ table and seats, and then the bar; while on either -hand range the crimson benches of the Peers. At the end of the -hall is the reporters’ and strangers’ gallery, of very small dimensions, -from which, however, one gets the best view of the whole -interior, and of the striking pictures over the Throne. These -are happily chosen as to subjects, and well executed as frescoes. -In the centre is the Baptism of King Ethelbert—the symbol of a -truly Christian realm: on one side is the Black Prince receiving -the Garter—a symbol of genuine chivalry; and on the other -is Henry, Prince of Wales, submitting to imprisonment for an -assault upon Judge Gascoigne—a most speaking exhibition of -the time-honoured relations subsisting between British Royalty -and British Law. It will be a wholesome thing for every future -Prince of Wales to look at this picture, before he presumes to sit -down under it. It may really have an important influence in -moulding the character of future Kings. God grant it may!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In surveying this splendid apartment, the mind naturally goes -forward, since it presents the fancy with no past history. What -is to be its future? Is this House to be the scene of a further -development of vast imperial resources? Is it to be graced by a -perpetuated aristocracy, surviving every change in society and in -arts, by the force of their own character, as furnishing a high -example to mankind of “whatsoever things are lovely and of -good report?” Is this roof to resound with the voices of high-minded -men, asserting from age to age their privilege to be foremost -in defence of religion and of humanity, and to do and to suffer -for the good of their fellow-subjects, and the welfare of mankind? -Is the British Peerage to grow brighter with high moral qualities, -than with hereditary honours, and to be cherished by an enlightened -spirit of public virtue as a standard of all that is -honourable, and as a pattern of what is most excellent in the -ideal of the true Christian gentleman? Or must the sad reverse -be true, and must this House be the scene of the last act in the -eventful history of England? Shall a factitious nobility be -crowded into these chief seats of the realm; men devoid of -ennobling antecedents, and not less so of honour and of -worth? Shall the decay of a mighty Empire be marked by such -a House of Lords as may facilitate the plans of the demagogue, -sinking the Sovereign to a Doge, and the Church to a State -hireling, and giving to the Commons the unrestrained privilege of -revolution and anarchy? These are questions which a well-wisher -to the British Empire cannot but suggest, in view of -events which have lately taken place; and especially in view of the -fact, that the House of Lords has not unfrequently of late suffered -itself to be disgraced by breaches of Christian courtesy, not to -say of common decency, which, if multiplied in such a conspicuous -place, must tend to barbarize the world. Let us hear no -more of disgraceful scenes in the American Congress, till hereditary -noblemen, who have little else to do, can furnish mankind -with a wholesome example of high legislative decorum! For -unless noblemen will reflect upon their position, and act upon -convictions of what is necessary to the credit of their rank, in a -day when true gentlemen are by no means rare, outside their glittering -circle, and even among plain republicans, they must not -wonder if they too should become as a worn-out form, or an exploded -theory. Who knows how soon this superb hall of legislation -may be exhibited as the chief memorial of their existence? -If the British Peerage proves untrue to the Church of England, -and degrades itself to the bare responding of an <span class='it'>Amen</span> to every -momentary <span class='it'>Credo</span> of Ministers and Commons, what use of such -machinery? This palace shall be even as those of Venice. This -gorgeous interior shall be kept under the key of the mere <span class='it'>cicerone</span>, -and shown as a thing of the past to the staring traveller, as he -marvels over tarnished gilding and faded damask, and at every -tread disturbs the dust upon its floor, or breaks through cobwebs -dangling from its ceiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When one sees, in the writings of such a man as Dr. Arnold, -confessions of annoyance, if not of a sense of injury, from the -existence of a privileged class, to which merit must constantly -give way, where otherwise it would be entitled to precedence; -and when one discovers, even in the highest seats of British intellect -and piety, a certain deference to mere rank, which seems -humiliating; and when one finds something of the spirit of <span class='it'>tuft-hunting</span> -diffused through all classes alike, from the Tory school-boy -to the Whig Bishop; one feels indeed that there may be -arguments against the aristocratic element in society, which have -never been stated in their list of grievances by political agitators. -But, after all, in an old country like England, the aristocracy -exists, and there is no destroying it without destroying the nation. -The infernal <span class='it'>guillotine</span> itself cannot wholly make way with it, as -France has learned to its sorrow. What then? It must be -modified and perpetuated. It must be purified, and worked in -with society, as its ornament, but not its fabric. This is what is -done already in England. The nobility, the clergy, the gentry, -the literati, the professional classes, and then the people—after -all, in England they are one; “shade unperceived and softening -into shade,” and joined and knit together by habits, tastes, alliances, -and interests, in a wonderful order. Much yet remains to -be done, and will be done, to smooth down remaining asperities -between rank and rank; but the British aristocracy may be said, -even now, to be a genuine one, identified with everything great -and good in the nation, and, on the whole, presenting a wholesome -example to other classes in the State. In all probability, -so virtuous an aristocracy has never been seen elsewhere among -mankind. Among them may be found specimens of human -nature, whose physical and mental endowments, together with -their moral worth, and intellectual accomplishments, entitle them -to the highest admiration of their fellow-men. We are too well -aware that side by side with such, may sit, adorned with equal -rank and titles, some wretch, whose coronet has been purchased -by infamy, and whose hereditary decorations are but the mockery -of a character, every way pestilent and detestable. The English -themselves are used to it; but it strikes a republican with amazement -that such creatures should be noble, even “by courtesy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To see the House, as I saw it first, empty, and for the sake of -its architecture and decoration, one gets a ticket by applying at -the adjoining office of the Lord Chamberlain, on specified days. -To attend the sessions of the House of Lords, one must possess -an autograph order by a Peer. With this I was kindly supplied, -not only for one night, but for four; the orders being given me -in blanks, which I was permitted to fill with any dates that -might best suit my convenience. It so happened that little was -going on in the House of Lords while I was in London, and I -did not see it to advantage. As I heard several of its most eminent -members elsewhere, however, and frequently met with them -in society, I had less to regret than would otherwise have been the -case. In the House itself, I saw enough to familiarize me with -its appearance and manners, and the rest is easily imagined, -when one has before him the <span class='it'>Times’</span> report of any particular -scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lord Truro, sitting on the woolsack, was the first object that -struck me on entering—and it was by no means a majestic one. -He is a <span class='it'>Russell</span> Chancellor, and of course no Clarendon. Shades -of Somers and of Eldon, what a figure I saw in your old seat! -The sight of the Bishops, in their robes, with the old Primate, in -his wig, reminded me of Chatham’s appeal to “that right reverend -bench, and the unsullied purity of their lawn.” Their Lordships -were few in number, and among them the Bishop of Oxford -was the man of mark. I doubt if he has his equal in the House -for “thoughts that breathe and words that burn.” The Lords -temporal were lounging about their benches, hats on or off, as -chanced to be, and what little speaking I heard, was by no means -such as to rouse them to particular attention. A hesitating, stuttering, -and very awkward utterance would even seem to be the -fashion in this noble House. I looked in vain for Lord Brougham, -not because I have any great respect for him, but because one -may be pardoned for trying to see such a curiosity, when it is, -possibly, just under one’s nose. He has been vastly over-rated, -and will soon be forgotten. In general, their Lordships looked -like well-bred gentlemen, and there was about them a certain air -of travel and of finish, which marks the habituated man of the -world. Some of them were plainly dressed, but others were -evidently men of fashion. One thing they ought to know and -feel, and that is—that much is given them, and much will be required -of them. No doubt every position has its qualifying disadvantages -and trials; yet it must be allowed that no station in -which a human being can find himself placed by his Creator, -affords so many advantages, at the very outset, for usefulness and -happiness in life, as that of a young English Peer of competent -fortune and sound mind, with a healthful body, and a good education. -What a hint for such a man is that challenge of nature’s -own nobleman, St. Paul—<span class='it'>Who maketh thee to differ from another, -and what hast thou that thou didst not receive?</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>An incident which created some excitement in fashionable circles, -shortly after the opening of the Crystal Palace, will illustrate -one feature of British civilization which will not be out of -place in connection with these remarks on the aristocracy. -Everybody has heard of the London Police, their admirable drill, -and great efficiency. Their impartial enforcement of the rules -of the Great Exhibition was peculiarly illustrative of these -characteristics, and also of the spirit of law and order, as paramount -and inflexible in the Metropolis. No departure from these -rules was allowed to any one; and carriage after carriage, all -blazing with heraldic splendours, and filled with rank and beauty, -was forced to change its route by the simple waving of a policeman’s -finger. It so happened that a dashing young fellow, a scion -of the noble house of S——, driving his own equipage through -Hyde Park, ventured to disobey. On this the policeman seized -the horse’s head, and backed him. The hot-blooded Jehu instantly -raised his whip, and struck the policeman several violent -blows over the face and head. The result was his immediate arrest; -and on being carried before the Magistrate, young S—— -found himself committed for ten days imprisonment, which he -accordingly fulfilled with exemplary submission, wearing jail-clothes, -and performing sundry penances, precisely as if he had -been the humblest offender in the land. On the same day that -this happened, a cabman whom I had engaged to take me, in a -hurry, to a certain part of the town, drove me rapidly through -St. James’s Park, and was just making his escape into the street, -near Buckingham Palace, when he was stopped, in the gate, by a -policeman, and ordered instantly back, with a threat of severe -punishment should he again trespass where he knew that only -private carriages were admitted. As my time was precious, I -ventured to interpose, and exhausted every art, in vain, to induce -the inexorable policeman to allow the cab to pass on. He little -knew my sincere respect for him, and the real satisfaction I took -in thus finding him “a brick for his principles.” Finally, I -offered to alight, and discharge the cabman there; but this also -the policeman respectfully forbade. “It would never do,” he -said, “to allow cabmen to take such liberties; the cab must go -back;” but then he advised me not to pay the fellow a single -penny, as he was not entitled to anything but an arrest, for exemption -from which he might be thankful. I was exceedingly -annoyed, in spite of my admiration for authority, but thought it -best to submit without further parley. Next day I heard of the -fate of the Honorable Mr. S——, and, on the whole, felt glad -that I had got off so easily. Thus it seems that law is law in -London, for all classes alike; and if the stranger, in his cab, is -not permitted to violate it, he may at least console himself with -the fact that he would fare no better if he were a home-born -aristocrat in a dashing tilbury. It is this well-defined system of -society, in which every man knows his rights, and where even -privilege is limited, and as absolutely held in check as license, -that makes even humble life in England, in spite of all its burdens, -a life of liberty and contentment. Theoretical equality -may exist with far less of real independence, and we who value -ourselves on self-government, are perhaps in danger of finding -ourselves without government, and too jealous of authority to -submit even to law.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>St. Mary’s, Lambeth—Temple—St. Paul’s—Tunnel.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Time never need hang heavily on one’s hands in London. A -stroll in the Parks is an unfailing resource in fair weather: when -it was wet, I used to take refuge under cover of some exhibition. -The National Gallery, in Trafalgar Square, and the Vernon Gallery, -gratuitously opened to the public, in Marlborough House, -were quite a resource; although the annual show of pictures in -the former was nothing extraordinary. The portrait of Dr. -Wiseman was displayed there, and a sight of it cured me of all -curiosity to see more of him. Its coarse and sensual effect -afforded a very striking contrast to the refined and intellectual -head of the Bishop of London, which was hung <span class='it'>vis-à-vis</span>, perhaps -not without design. But of pictures I do not propose to speak -particularly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the cool of a charming May morning I sauntered forth, and -crossed Westminster Bridge. It was too late for the full enjoyment -of Wordsworth’s emotions, on that thoroughfare, for already -the city was astir; and yet there was enough in the scene it commanded -to make one stop a few moments and conjure up the -imagery of his inimitable sonnet:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie</p> -<p class='line0'> All bright and glittering in the smokeless air!</p> -<p class='line0'>   Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep:</p> -<p class='line0'> The river glideth at his own sweet will;</p> -<p class='line0'>   Dear God! the very houses seem asleep,</p> -<p class='line0'> And all that mighty heart is lying still!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>So I passed on to Lambeth, and came by Bishop’s Walk, under -the walls of the Archbishop’s gardens, to Morning Prayer at St. -Mary’s. It was here, under the shadow of this Church, that the -poor Queen of James, the Runagate, stood shivering on a stormy -night, with her unfortunate little babe packed up in a basket, -awaiting a start to France. Had the baby only cried, how different -might have been the history of the British Crown and -nation! A great many Scotchmen would have lived quietly -through the greater part of the succeeding century, who (as the -baby slept soundly) were only born to be hanged, shot, and beheaded; -and then, in all probability, we should have had no -Waverley novels! However, I now found the Church a ruin; -only its tower standing, and a bit of the chancel, while the rebuilding -was going bravely on. But I am glad to say that the -daily service was not therefore interrupted. The chancel was -roughly boarded up, and protected from the weather, and there a -good congregation was at prayer when I entered, two curates -officiating. I was rejoiced to worship there, in such a primitive -way. The bones of the brave old primate Bancroft, and of good -Archbishop Tenison were beneath us as we knelt; and the meek -Secker reposes hard by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After breakfast, at the Rectory, in a room overlooking the -archiepiscopal grounds, I went to the river, and hunted up one -of those deposed and antiquated things—a <span class='it'>wherry</span>, resolved to go -by water, in the old fashioned way, from Lambeth to the Temple. -Now, then, I was legitimately afloat upon “the silent highway,” -only that the hideous little steamers would destroy my anti-modern -imaginations, as they paddled triumphantly by. I was -trying to imagine myself in the primate’s barge, with Cranmer or -with Laud; or again, as I “shot the bridge, with its roar of -waters,” I conjured up the day when Dryden, with his fashionable -companions, took water, that they might the better hear the -distant guns, by which they knew “the fleet, under his Royal -Highness, was then engaging the Dutch upon the coast, and that -a great event was then deciding.” Ah! it was the poetry of the -Thames to go upon it with oars, and to hear the waterman -lament the degenerate days of steam; or to draw out his <span class='it'>Allegro</span> -by questions about the “champion of the river,” and the great -rowing match soon to come off, to the probable discomfiture of that -hero’s further claims to that dignity. The salt talked very bad <span class='it'>dry</span> -English, but his <span class='it'>wet</span> vocabulary was truly rich; and I left his -boat at Blackfriars Bridge, with a sort of feeling that, instead of -a few paltry shillings he had earned by his conduct on the voyage, -the not unusual compliment to affable sea-captains, of “a -vote of thanks, and a piece of plate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I now went to the Temple Gardens, where, according to great -Will, began the wars of York and Lancaster, by the plucking of -the two roses; and, for a while, I sauntered about those pleasant -walks, in the company of one of the benchers, feeling very much -as if I had found a little Oxford on the margin of the Thames. -After a subsequent visit to the room which Dr. Johnson once inhabited, -and sauntering through courts and alleys, where one sees -many a celebrated name painted over a door, as a business sign, -we entered the Temple Church. Great restorations have been -made here of late, at an immense expense, and generally in good -taste and on correct principles, save that unsightly seats, too -much like pews, encumber the space in front of the altar, which -ought to be entirely open. What a reverend old Church; built -in the twelfth century by Crusaders, and consecrated by a -Patriarch of Jerusalem! Under its walls, inside, lies Selden, -and outside, lies Oliver Goldsmith; but, to me, its most sacred -interest is the fact, that here the immortal Hooker erected those -noble defences of the Church of England which broke the rising -tide of Puritanism, and ultimately saved us from its floods. Here -that great “Master of the Temple,” while his inmost soul was -panting for a quiet country cure, bore patiently the heat and -burthen of the day, in wearisome conflict with the dogged Travers, -who could always preach “<span class='it'>Geneva</span> in the afternoon, against -the morning <span class='it'>Canterbury</span>.” On entering “the Round,” you are -struck with its venerable effect, heightened by the fine figures of -the old Templars, stretched, cross-legged, upon the floor. These -figures were sadly mutilated, but have been admirably restored. -The Round is free from pewing, and opens into the choir, where -the benchers’ stalls are ranged on either hand. The two societies -of the Middle and Inner Temple worship here together, and their -respective arms—a Pegasus and a Lamb—are interchanged in -the showy decorations of the vaulting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I ascended into the <span class='it'>triforia</span> by a cork-screw staircase, pausing -to enter the famous Penitential Cell—a dismal hole in the wall, -in which a refractory Templar was sometimes confined, but -which offered him the consolations of religion, by means of a -hagioscope, or slit in the masonry, through which he could see -the altar of the Church, and join in the devotions of his brethren—though -it may be feared he more generally responded to -their chant with anything but benediction. In the <span class='it'>triforia</span> are -happily preserved all the monuments which lately disfigured the -walls below: and so set are the benchers against any renewing of -a bad example, that I was told they had resisted the erection of -even Hooker’s bust in the choir. This I was sorry to hear, as -one really felt the want of it on looking about the walls which -once reflected the sounds of his earnest and persuasive voice. -And what was my surprise, on my next visit, to find a workman -setting it there, just as it should be! It was covered. I begged -him to let me see it. ‘Honour to thy old square cap, thou -venerable and judicious Richard,’ said my inmost heart, as the -well-known features emerged in all their dignity; and then I -asked if I was so fortunate as to be the very first to salute it. -The workman, who was the sculptor himself, assured me that I -was. ‘It is well,’ I answered, ‘that an American clergyman -should have the privilege. We know how to value in America -the great defender of Law and of Religion, and much as England -owes to Hooker, America owes infinitely more, or will do so -when the Church shall have proved herself, as she will in the end, -the salvation of the Republic.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under the roof of the Middle Temple Hall, where the benchers, -barristers and students still dine together, was first acted on -Twelfth night, 1602, Shakspeare’s play, so called. A visit to that -noble hall, and a sight of its celebrated equestrian Charles First, -by Vandyck, gave me great delight. There are also several other -royal portraits, and many heraldic memorials of the great historic -lawyers who once “ate their terms” within its walls. The hall -of the Inner Temple is less striking, but of similar character. -One wonders what future Lord Chancellor sits daily at these -boards, among the students. But in the Inner Temple, I thought -chiefly of that gentle Templar, more gentle than its armorial -Lamb, who once sat with them, the author of “the Task.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My next visit was an ambitious one. I spent an hour, or so, -in climbing to the ball of St. Paul’s, within which, of course, I -ensconsed myself, and indulged in very sublime reflections. The -fact is, however, that it was very hot, and when some half dozen -cockneys had wedged themselves in, after me, I verily thought -the chances lay between smothering and being toppled down in a -lump into the street (400 feet below) like a big pippin; for the -ball shook and trembled upon the rods which support it, in a -manner by no means soothing to excitable nerves. I was glad when -I got safely back to the “Golden Gallery,” and could cool myself, -and look down on the roofs and chimneys of the million at one -glance. Here is your true view of London! Here that “mighty -heart” is seen, and felt, and heard in its throbbings. Here a -thoughtful man finds food for reflection, and a benevolent one for -interceding prayer. Oh, God! to think of the life and death, -the joy and misery, the innocence and the guilt, and all the mixed -and mingled passions, emotions, thoughts, and deeds which are -going on beneath these roofs, along those labyrinthine streets, and -alleys, and in all this circuit of miles and miles, and close-packed -human beings! God alone understands the issues there deciding: -it is too much for one to dwell upon a single moment; -but, thank God for the assurance that “He remembereth -that we are but dust:” yea, thank God, for a Saviour and -an High Priest, who can be touched with the feeling of human -infirmities!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the successive stages of mounting to the ball, one passes, of -course, many objects of interest. The original model of St. -Paul’s is well worthy of inspection, as conveying Wren’s own -ideal of the cathedral. He was so attached to it, that he cried -when forced to depart from it; but it strikes me as greatly inferior -to the actual design. It might better suit the <span class='it'>dilettanti</span>, but -except in the unreality of the second story, which is a mere -screen to the roofing and buttresses, I can see nothing to regret -in the substitution. The model room is also the depository of -sundry old and tattered flags, which, after escaping “the thunder -of the captains, and the shoutings,” were formerly suspended in -the dome. It was fashionable to say that they desecrated it—but -why so? The God of battles and the Prince of Peace are -one: and I can see no reason why the flags of Waterloo should -not be hung up before the Lord of Hosts, in His Holy Temple. -The question is merely one of taste; but the flags may be as well -considered as tokens of peace, as trophies of war; and why -should not the providence of God, as the giver of all victory, be -thus recognized, by a significant acknowledgment, that to Him, -and not to the Duke of Wellington, for example, we owe the -general peace which has for so long a period blessed the world, -since the overthrow of Napoleon? It is a sublime association -with this cathedral, that it was first used for Divine Service in -celebrating the Peace of Ryswick, which, with all its faults, has -secured to England inestimable blessings: and, perhaps the virtual -appeal to God, which is made by connecting His awful -name with the awful issues of battles, may have a happy effect -on the national conscience. It may make men afraid of -mere wars of ambition; may keep in view the fact, that peace -only should be the end of conflict; and may also correct the -sentimentalism which fails to see that war may sometimes be -a just and a holy exertion of that magistracy with which God -has girded the loins of rulers, and for which they are responsible -to Him who commands them not to “wear the sword in -vain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Library is a place of little interest to one who has but -little time. You look with reverence at the great bell, which -thunders out the death of time from hour to hour, and only tolls -when a Prince’s departure, or that of some great ecclesiastic, is -to be announced to the nation. The vastness of the clock and -its dial, give you fresh impressions of the enormous scale of everything -about you, and the Whispering Gallery is reached with a -sense of fatigue, which quite accords with this effect. Here a -bore of a fellow shows off the petty experiment of the whisper, -and stuns you by slamming a door; after which you are vexed to -find that the paintings of the dome have disappeared under the -humid influences of the London climate. It is only when these -first annoyances are over, that you regain entire command of -your thoughts, and are able to measure “the length and breadth, -and depth and height,” of the noble dome within whose concavity -you are now walking about, and perchance listening to the glorious -swell of the organ below. The architecture of this dome becomes -easily understood, as one ascends between its inner and outer surfaces, -and one cannot but regret to find that the former is so -vastly disproportioned to the latter. Here the triumph of Michael -Angelo, and the one grand superiority of St. Peter’s, begins to be -powerfully felt. Wren has constructed his dome prosaically; the -rhetoric and the poetry of architecture are sublimely displayed -in the work of the mighty Florentine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the ascent, you emerge from time to time to open air, -and get external views from the successive galleries. London -chimneys are, at first, below you, and then the steeples, and then -even its canopy of smoke and vapour; and all its mingling sounds -come to your ear at last like the murmur of the sea. “How -dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low.” The elevation is indeed -considerable; but with such a Babel at one’s feet; with the fleets -and the treasures of nations all in sight; and with a million of -men swarming like ants in their mole-hill, just below, it is one’s -own fault if the moral elevation be not far more sublime, and if -the impressions of the hour are not forcibly suggestive of a -glimpse of the world from the mansions of eternity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a very cursory inspection of the ill-judged sculpture in -the nave and transepts, and a more affectionate visit to the statue -of Howard, to the kneeling figure of Heber, and that of Bishop -Middleton, which represents him as confirming two Indian children, -I had time to survey the crypts before the Evening Service. -Here lie Reynolds, and West, and Lawrence, and several of their -brothers of the Academy; and here, in a sort of chapel, which -admits the external air and light through a grating, lies the architect -himself—the truly great Sir Christopher.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Lie heavy on him earth, for he</p> -<p class='line0'> Laid many a heavy load on thee!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>But now you come to the circular vault, upheld by massive -pillars, and lighted partially from the dome above, but more -strongly by gas-burners, where you stand before the sepulchre of -Nelson. The sarcophagus is an empty relic of Cardinal Wolsey’s -ambition, but looks so modern, that one is tempted to believe he -ordered it in prophetic spirit, expressly for its present purpose. -After all, it is not Nelson’s sepulchre, for he is buried under it. -The hero and the ecclesiastic have alike been compelled to accept -a “little earth for charity,” and this hollow semblance of a coffin -dangles like that of Mohammed, between them. Alas! that Nelson’s -tomb should suggest any meaner thoughts than those of his -genius and glory; but it was in fact a relief to turn to the simple -monument of Collingwood, and to be able to say, here lies not -only a decaying hero, but a slumbering Christian.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I looked for the monument of Dr. Donne with especial interest. -You grope amid interesting relics of old St. Paul’s, a fragment -of Lord Chancellor Hatton’s effigy, a piece of Dean Colet’s, and -another of Sir Nicholas Bacon’s. At last, in one corner of a -dismal cell, feebly lighted by a grated window from without, you -see the old worthy, in his shroud, precisely as Walton describes -the figure, but leaning against the wall like a ghost, or rather like -one of the dried corpses in the Morgue, on the Great St. Bernard. -You think of his truly heavenly mind, and strange life; of his -rusty old poetry, and sound old sermons; of his ancestor, Sir -Thomas More, and of his descendant, William Cowper. It is -strange that no one ever thinks of Cowper as the inheritor of this -double genius, and as owing some features of his intellect not less -to the rhyming Dean of St. Paul’s, than to the author of <span class='it'>Utopia</span>. -One would hope that under the Deanship of another poet, the -graceful and scholarly Milman, this one historic relic of the -old cathedral, and of a brother of the sacred lyre, might be -set in a fitter place, or at least more decently erected in the -place where it now seems irreverently set aside to moulder and -be forgotten.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The <span class='it'>Thames Tunnel</span> was pronounced, by Canning, “the greatest -bore in England:” he was bored to death by applications for -Government aid in completing it, and hence spoke feelingly. It -is now apparently done, though not finished, and is a cockney -wonder, well worth a visit. Were it only in actual use as a -thoroughfare under the bed of the Thames, thus realizing the -original conception, it would not be without an element of true -sublimity; but to see it degraded to a miserable show, scarcely -paying for its keeper, and serving only to enable the visitor to say -that he has walked under the Thames, is enough to justify one in -naming it a folly. Its uses, however, may even yet be demonstrated -to be great, and I cannot but feel that this noble work -has not been executed for naught. It will even yet have a -history. Pity it is that the Duke of Wellington had no occasion -to use it, in planning the defences of the city on the -memorable tenth of April, 1848. It needed but the passage -of a single regiment, under his command, through this mysterious -excavation, for actual purposes of surprise and stratagem, -to give the place a charm forever; and had such a passage been -by chance accomplished in the night, and led by the Duke in -person, for the sake of some masterly result, a new and romantic -interest would have been added as well to his own marvellous -story, as to that of the Tunnel itself. If the caverny wine vaults -of the London Docks were but connected with the Tunnel on -one side, and the Tower on the other, so that there might be a -sub-marine passage to the Tower, from the Surrey side, it would -at least furnish associations of a military character to this daring -achievement of Brunel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such were some of the random suggestions of my fancy, as -I descended the shaft, on the Wapping-side. I entered the dark -hole, with a vague realization of the descent of the Trojan -hero into the shades of old. The first glance reveals a narrow -street, with very narrow side-walks, or <span class='it'>trottoirs</span>, arched over -with masonry, which is quite devoid of anything remarkable in -itself. It is here and there a little damp-looking, but not more -so perhaps than tunnels under ground. Gas burns along the -dismal vault, but hardly lights it; enabling one to amuse himself -with the thought of seeing fire beneath a river, and to pick -his way comfortably; but otherwise only rendering darkness -visible. The corresponding way, or the other half, is quite -filled up with stalls and shops, in which they offer, here a raree-show, -and there refreshments. A wretched grinding organ fills -the cavern with doleful music, and little peddlers offer things -for sale. So few, however, seem to be passing, that one wonders -how they find it worth while to carry on this mermaid merchandise. -You are so bored with their importunity, that it is not -without an effort that you compose yourself, and reflect that -fishes are swimming, and that the keels of countless ships, with -the wealth of nations in their holds, are passing over your head, -and that the very smallest breach in the arch above would -“hurl an ocean on your march below.” This is the one great -idea of the Tunnel. I passed through and emerged at Rotherhithe, -and then descending, returned in the same way. It -occurred to me, what if Guy Fawkes the Second should fill this -place with gunpowder, and touch off the magazine, by electric -telegraph, just as a royal fleet was passing the critical point! -Strange to say, it might be so arranged, by means of the telegraph -and Cardinal Wiseman, that the Pope himself, sitting in his armchair -at the Vatican, might produce this terrible explosion in the -Thames; and I suppose he is quite as likely to do it, as he is to -effect the other results which he and the Cardinal (or the Cardinal -and he) are actually attempting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shipping which one beholds in the vicinity of the Tunnel, -is such as to produce a powerful impression upon the mind, in -favour of the vast scale on which the commerce of London is -maintained with the whole world. Truly—“the harvest of the -river is her revenue, and she is a mart of nations.” As compared -with the port of New-York, the narrowness of the river -here rather increases than lessens the effect, bringing the forest -of masts and the bulk of steamers close together, while, in our -great harbour, they are stretched along such a circuit of shore, -or anchored in such an expanse of water, as materially diminishes -the general impression of multitude and immensity. It -must be remembered, however, that in estimating the tonnage -of London, a vast number of vessels are included which are -never thought of at the Custom-house in New-York. Thus, -our river craft, which supply the city with produce for the -market, such as eggs, poultry and the like, with the whole fleet -of our domestic steamers, go for nothing with us; while on the -contrary, the hoys that bring the like from the Low Countries -and the coast of France, with the steamers that ply to other -British ports, are all religiously reckoned in the commercial lists -of the British Metropolis. With this abatement, one is surprised -to see how respectable a proportion the tonnage of New-York -bears to that of the populous Tyre of England; a proportion -which is probably destined to a direct reversal at no distant -period, when once the Pacific and the Australian and Asiatic -coasts are fairly opened to our direct trade through the Isthmus -of Darien.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXV'></a>CHAPTER XV.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>London Sights and By-places.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is surprising how deep-rooted in one’s mind is the nonsense -literature of the nursery, and how practically useful it often renders -itself in the serious occasions of life. The <span class='it'>Cries of London</span>, -and the rhymes of <span class='it'>Mother Goose</span> may often point a moral of grave -importance to mankind; but not less were they serviceable to me, -in enlivening many a nook and corner of the great Metropolis, -whenever I gave myself up to a city stroll, as I frequently did, -without plan, and in the merest mood of adventure. ‘Heigho! -here is Holborn’—or again—‘this, then, is Eastcheap’—or -similar exclamations in view of St. Bride’s or St. Helen’s—such -were my entertainments, as I moved musingly along, among stock-jobbers -and Jews. The sight of Pannier Alley, or Pudding -Lane, I am free to confess, raised emotions truly lively and refreshing; -and seldom was I in want of associations, equally sentimental -and profound, while I traversed, with all the reverence of a -pilgrim, the mighty realms of Cockaigne.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From Charing-cross to Temple-bar, in spite of the modern improvements, -one picks not a little of this sort of pleasure as he -saunters along. Turning aside for a moment, let us step into -Covent-gardens. There is the Church, so memorable from -Hogarth’s picture; and so illustrative of the piety and taste of -the Russels, one of whom being forced to build it here, amid his -thousand tenants, gave Inigo Jones the order, and suggested the -munificence of his plans in the words—“anything—a barn will -do.” Accordingly, a barn it is. I searched its precincts for the -grave of Butler, that marvellous Daguerreotypist of Puritanism, -whose rhymes and aphorisms will live as long as the language -which they so curiously shape and conjure into forms the most -congenial to their pith and purpose. In the market one lingers -amid the fruits and flowers, which here, every morning, offer to -the Londoners a toothsome and brilliant display. “Buy my -roses”—“cherry ripe, cherry red”—“strawberries, your honour”—and -“flowers all a-blowing, all a-growing”—such are the -sounds with which you are for a moment emparadised, albeit in -London streets. Here also you spy an alderman’s dinner at -every turn, and wonder how Chatterton could have contrived to -starve, within call of such a surfeit. But alas! full many a ragged -visitor looks on with lean and hungry stare, and famishes the -more bitterly for the sight of plenty, which he cannot enjoy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But resuming our walk, we again step aside to look at the -Savoy. To do this, we pitch down hill, towards the Thames; -and there is all that remains of the famous Palace, in the little -homely old Church, to which I did reverence in gratitude to God -for the famous Conference, which resulted in enriching the -Prayer-book with several good things, (and with the significant -addition of two words in the Litany, <span class='it'>rebellion</span> and <span class='it'>schism</span>, amongst -the rest,) as the result of the Restoration. Next we survey the -splendours of Somerset House, not without regretting the obliteration -of the old historical landmarks which it has deposed. In -the middle of the street, before it, is the Church of St. Mary-le-Strand, -where stood, in good old times, that famous May-pole, so -profane and odious to the Round-heads, but which makes so -picturesque a figure in our visions of the past. It perished -honourably at last, for when no longer used for Spring dances -and revels, it was given to Sir Isaac Newton, who hung his telescope -thereto, and made it serve him in exploring the stars. So -come we to St. Clement Danes, where grave visions of Johnson, -keeping Easter, and approaching the Holy Sacrament with fear -and trembling, give dignity to its otherwise lack-lustre appearance. -And here is the Bar, where we enter Fleet-street and the -city, and where less serious memories of the great moralist afflict -one’s desire to preserve propriety. Fancy him here, with Boswell -to look at him, holding on to a post, and making the night -resound with his <span class='it'>ha-ha</span>, as he burst into earth-shaking laughter -over his own wit. Even in his day, this gate of the city used, -occasionally, to be set with the grim heads of decapitated traitors, -and I remembered that, for once, poor Goldsmith got the better of -him here, by an apt allusion to the ghastly spectacle. They had -been moralizing together in Westminster Abbey, where Johnson -had pointed to the busts in <a id='poet3'></a>Poets’ Corner, and whispered, in a -ponderous Latin quotation, to his brother poet—“perhaps our -heads shall yet be set with theirs.” Poor Goldy kept his wit pent -up till he arrived at this spot, when, pointing Johnson to the -grim skulls of his fellow-Jacobites, he slyly repeated—“perhaps -our heads shall yet be set with theirs!” In further honour of -these worthies, I hunted up that orthodox chop-house, “the -Mitre,” and explored with awe the dingy precinct of “Bolt-Court:” -nor should I have forgotten, before leaving the Strand, -to make worthy mention of “Clement’s Inn,” where I surveyed, -for a few minutes, what remains of that ancient haunt of -Falstaff’s memories; remembering too that “forked radish” of a -man whom Falstaff’s recollections did so vilely disparage. But -time would fail me to detail my various <span class='it'>ins</span> and <span class='it'>outs</span>, as I surveyed -the streets of London from St. Dunstan’s to Whitefriars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In company with a gentleman of the Middle Temple, I went -one morning to Lincoln’s Inn, and surveyed its Hall and Library, -which have been lately restored, in the style and taste of the -olden time. I had the pleasure of looking at Lord Erskine’s -statue, under the kindly guidance of one of his descendants. In -the chapel, the pulpit where Heber used to preach, was my chief -object of interest. Lincoln’s Inn Fields attracted my attention, -for a time, though it is hard to conjure up, in such a spot as it is -at present, the scaffold and the block, and poor Lord William -Russell saying his last prayers. To the Temple gardens I then -repaired for a little stroll, and there encountered the Crown-prince -of Prussia, making his survey of the place, attended by -his suite. He moves rapidly, and cuts a good figure. What he -is, we shall be likely to know if we live to see him reign. From -the Temple to <span class='it'>Alsatia</span> is but a step, and here I walked in painful -honour of Nigel Olifaunt, as long as the sights and smells, which -still preserve a thievish richness, would allow a mere romance to -support my enthusiasm. And so from Whitefriars to Blackfriars, -where, upon the very walls of ancient London, “the Times Newspaper” -now flourishes, in its modern offices, and oft “<span class='it'>with fear -of change</span>, perplexes monarchs.” I had been so happy as to make -the acquaintance of Mr. Walter, its eminent proprietor; and -under his hospitable roof, in Upper Grosvenor-street, I met with -some of the most agreeable personages whom I encountered in -the society of the Metropolis. The day’s adventures closed with -a visit to Herald’s College, and to Doctors’ Commons. A slight -inspection of the latter sufficed; but as I was in company with -one who had business at the former, I lingered for a while in its -worshipful chambers, and was glad to see something of the process -of the anti-republican mystery to which it is devoted. Here -are the historic books, from which pedigrees are furnished; and -here are the authorities for quarterings and emblazonings, and all -such changes in coat-armour as marriages and entailments may -make necessary. Some interesting relics are shown of the days -when knights and tournaments, and battles too, were in higher -esteem than now; and one cannot but be entertained with the -beautiful drawings and colourings of the divers artists here employed -to “gild the refined gold” of British gentility. In the -quadrangle of the College are the escutcheons of the Stanleys, -marking the site of the ancient Derby House.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had met, more than once, with Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd, -and by his invitation, I took an opportunity to be a spectator at -the Old Bailey one morning, when some flagrant criminals were -to be tried. It is a horrid spectacle, but one would see everything, -except the last act at Newgate, on many reasonable -grounds. I shuddered as I entered the street before the prison, -where such crowds of brutal human beings have long been wont -to congregate around the gallows. Dr. Dodd was not hanged here, -but I could think of him only as I entered the doleful little courtroom -in which he was tried. I found an inferior magistrate trying -some petty offenders; but when this was over, the judges, in -their robes and wigs, made their appearance, preceded by the -sheriff, dressed in a full court suit, and bearing a drawn sword. -The judges were Baron Alderson, and my kind friend, Judge -Talfourd. I was seated, by his order, in a raised box, or pew, -at the side of the bench, apparently reserved for invited strangers. -Directly one <span class='it'>Francis Judd</span>, a youth of seventeen, was put to the -bar, to be tried for the murder of his father! There was about -the very opening of this trial something stern and awful, which -the poor prisoner appeared to feel. He stood pale and haggard, -picking the sprigs of rue, which, according to custom, were stuck -in the spikes before him, and seemed simply sensible of the fact -that he was in the clutches of the law. There was a majesty -about the administration of justice here, which is utterly wanting -in our courts. The case was opened with short speeches—the -witnesses were examined—the instrument which dealt the death -blow was produced, and some bloody relics were exhibited by the -policemen who had detected the culprit. The case was clear -against the lad, but he looked stupidly on. Then came the summing -up. His counsel admitted the deed, but claimed that it was -only manslaughter. The judge told the jury it was for them to -say whether it was murder or not. They conferred awhile—they -looked at the prisoner, and he at them—they gave their verdict—<span class='it'>manslaughter</span>. -Baron Alderson, who seemed to have his -black cap just ready to put on, thrust it aside, and lifting his glass -to his eye, to survey the poor wretch, said:—“Francis Judd, the -jury have found you guilty of manslaughter. For my own sake, -and far more for yours, I thank God they have. Had it been a -verdict of murder, I could not have found fault with it, and my -duty would have been more, far more, painful than it is now. I -have looked in vain for proper signs of emotion in you during -this trial. I am sorry you have not shown some feelings of horror -at your awful guilt. A father’s slaughter! The weapon -with which you struck the old man’s gray head brought before -your eyes, and even the covering of his pillow, stained with the -blood! Poor youth, he may have been stern with you, but still -he was your father. Your punishment will be severe, but it will -give you time to meditate and repent—the sentence of the court -is, that you be transported for life.” The whole trial had just -taken one hour and a half by the watch. Yet all had been fair, -and merciful. What a contrast to an American trial! Francis -Judd was then removed, and soon another culprit, bullet-headed -and brute featured, was standing in his place. I had seen enough, -and, bowing to Judge Talfourd, I took my departure. I passed -St. ’Pulchre’s, whose bell still tolls the knell of the convicts, and -whose solemn clock is their last measure of time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went into the crypts of one of the old London Churches, to -survey its Norman architecture, and there found myself standing -amid piles of coffins, of all sizes and descriptions. Open gratings -let in the light from the streets, and disclosed the passers-by, who -seemed unconscious of the fact, that catacombs were so near. I -never was in such an awful place before. The smell was not so -bad as I should have supposed would be the case, and chloride of -lime was sprinkled liberally about. But here were the coffins of -a family, piled one upon another—a consumptive mother, and her -one, two, three, five, or six children, in successive stages of decay. -What a story it told—that pile of mortality! Here was -a coffin, so large that Goliath might lie in it. “Eight men never -carried that coffin,” said the sexton, and on it I read the name -of some beef and pork consuming Londoner, whilom a substantial -pillar of the Exchange. The sexton next brought me to a -case, which he opened, exhibiting the dried corpse of a female. -“This was here,” said he, “in the time of the great fire of London, -and was then dried as you see.” Next he came to a sort of -chest, standing upright, and opening like a closet. He opened it, -and displayed two mummy-like figures, singularly dried, and undecayed. -He moved their horrid heads upon their shoulders, and -said—“They were twin brothers that were hung, sir, long ago, -sir, in George Third’s time.” I mentioned what I had seen to a -friend in the Temple. “I am surprised,” said he, “but you have -seen the poor fellows whose fate sealed that of Dr. Dodd. They -are the two Perreaus hanged for forgery in 1776; of whom Lord -Mansfield said to the King—‘they must be regarded as murdered -men, if your Majesty pardons Dr. Dodd.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At another time, I paid my respects to the famous “London-stone,” -a Roman relic set in the wall of St. Swithin’s, and familiar to -<a id='shak'></a>Shakspeareans, as the throne of the redoubtable Jack Cade. Of -course, I went to see Smithfield, reeking with smells, even when -void of cattle and swine, and donkeys, but still venerable for the -fires of martyrdom with which it was once illuminated. Hard -by is St. Bartholomew’s, whose tower once reflected the light of -those flames of the Bloody Mary. So too, I visited old St. -John’s Gate, Clerkenwell, familiar from the vignette on the -“Gentleman’s Magazine,” and suggestive of Cave, and of Johnson’s -first ventures upon his patronage. I went through and -through the gate, and surveyed both sides with curious interest. -There it has stood since the Crusades, and the dust and cobwebs -in its old turrets have been gathering for ages undisturbed. An -old inhabitant told me she once opened a dark stair-way, and -tried to go up, but the dry dust nearly choked her. So lounging -about, I ranged through Aldersgate, Charterhouse-Square, and -the Barbican, and, of course, to St. Giles’, Cripplegate. There -I visited the grave of Milton, once so rudely profaned during the -repairs of the Church, and still almost unmarked. Here Cromwell -was married, while as yet “guiltless of his country’s blood,” -and here lies buried Foxe, the Martyrologist. Holy Bishop -Andrewes was once incumbent of St. Giles’, and this is its -fairest memory. In the churchyard is a great curiosity, nothing -less than a portion of the old wall of London. Its foundations -are of Roman origin, and what I saw was, doubtless, -built by Alfred, to keep off the Danes! I had never seen a -piece of masonry so interesting. It is a bastion of massive -structure, yet by no means formidable as the fortifications of a -city. And did the soldiers of immortal Alfred really man this -wall; and did London ever need such a bulwark against the -Danes?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My Miltonic enthusiasm being now excited, I sought out -Bunhill fields, and the Old Artillery ground, near which he once -dwelt. Moreover, I fared through Grub-street, in whose garrets -have dwelt the rhyming tribes, idealized by Hogarth’s <span class='it'>Distressed -Poet</span>, from time immemorial. Tom Moore enjoys a laugh -at our American “Tiber,” formerly “Duck Creek;” but what -shall excuse the fact,—which, by the slightest substitution, I may -tell in his own line—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“That what was <span class='it'>Grub</span>-street once is <span class='it'>Milton</span> now!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The corporation of London must have made this change after -a very heavy dinner. Grub-street, however, has been always -famous for very light ones; and if Milton did verily inhabit -here, in her day, it is not surprising that Mary Powell bewailed -her maiden life, and ran away into Oxfordshire. But enough of -him and her. My reader will be more gratified to learn that on -crossing to Southwark, I had no difficulty in discovering the -mean and narrow entrance to an old-fashioned court, over which -is still legible, the following inscription—“This is the inne where -Sir Jeffry Chaucer and the nine-and-twenty pilgrims lay, in their -journey to Canterbury, Anno 1383.” It was “the Tabard” -then, and it is, by some strange corruption, “the Talbot” now. -Here then was that charmed spot, from which went forth those -devotees of St. Thomas-à-Becket, who talked so merrily, and -often so well; and whose quaint portraiture as it has been preserved -by genius, so embalms the peculiarities of thought, of -manners, and of language, which characterized our English forefathers, -in that marvellous age, when Wycliffe in prose, and -Chaucer in poetry, laid the foundation of our Anglo-Saxon -Literature, and scattered many goodly seeds of a reformation in -religion. I was entranced by the associations of the place, for -it is yet an Old English Inn, and looks as if it might still be the -identical hostelry, built as it is around the inn-yard, with galleries, -and ancient windows, and odd devices. It is but a halting-place -for wagoners and countrymen; but, in spite of myself, I -could not resist the temptation to enter its humble door, and -order a little something, for Chaucer’s sake, to refresh a wayfarer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But, to resume my rambles, behold me, by various crooks and -turns, visiting <a id='hound'></a>Houndsditch and Billingsgate, and St. Ethelburga’s, -and St. Helen’s. This St. Helen, by-the-way, is the mother of -Constantine, and a part of London wall she built herself; so -that, from England to “stubborn Jewry,” her architecture is her -monument. I surveyed what is left of Crosby Hall; visited -“the old lady in Threadneedle-street,” otherwise called the Bank -of England; and, returning, heard the stupendous bells of Bow -in their full harmony. That day was the festival of “the Sons -of the Clergy.” I arrived at St. Paul’s in time to see the procession -entering the great western door; the Archbishop, the -Bishop of London, and the Lord Mayor, with other worshipful -civic dignitaries, making its most conspicuous part. I lingered -without the choir, till the services were quite advanced, and again -had an opportunity of enjoying the effect of the distant service, -and the rich reverberations of the dome.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>London Society.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have spoken of my daily occupations with little or no -allusion to that, which proved to me the chief charm of life in -London, its delightful society. It would be a poor tribute to -modern civilization to regard the social pleasures of a brilliant -capital, as presenting a secondary topic of remark; and yet so -sacred are even the most public of domestic civilities, that whatever -goes on under a private roof, seems necessarily invested -with a character, to which types cannot do justice, without, at -the same time, becoming sacrilegious. The ethics of travel are, -even yet, by no means settled; for persons who should be -authorities, have been often betrayed into the setting of an example, -which, if all were free to follow it, would permit society -to be infested with hordes of literary pirates, whose flag would -be fatal to the freedoms and confidences of civilized intercourse, -everywhere. On both sides of the Atlantic such social corsairs -have too frequently paraded their spoils. It is not so much with -the fear of their ignominy before mine eyes, as in view of that -Golden Rule which they have flagrantly transgressed, that I shall -restrict myself, in my narratives, to the most general allusions to -social scenes, and to the mention of such names only as are more -or less publicly known.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One needs only a few competent letters as a passport to -English hospitality. After first introductions, the way of the -stranger who behaves himself, is as open as in his own land. -Hospitality is, in fact, a truly English virtue. Nowhere else -does the word imply so much genuine kindness. Nowhere else -does it so completely make the stranger at home. Morning, -noon, and night, it follows you up with its benevolent perseverance, -and seems to exact the minimum of ceremony in return. -It does not satisfy itself with politeness; it shows you the soul -of friendship; and that, while it allows you all the freedom of a -passenger, when you might otherwise feel embarrassed by your -inability to reciprocate such proofs of good will. The truth is, -there is real heart in the civilities which are proffered, and where -politeness is rooted in sincerity, it is always considerate, inventive -and unfailing. An English gentleman, whatever his circumstances, -as soon as he knows that you are entitled to his attentions, -does all that he can to make you really happy. If his -means are small he is not ashamed to offer you the best he can -give, and he is pleased with his success, if he feels that you have -accepted his hospitality in the spirit which prompted it. Contented, -self-respecting, hearty Christian love is the root of the -matter, in those true specimens of English nature, which are -uppermost in my memory, as I write, and “whatsoever things -are lovely” are but the generous product of that sound and healthful -stock. Happy is he who has made a genuine Englishman his -friend, for such a friendship implies the fullest confidence, and is -a tribute to accredited integrity and worth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In London, during “the season,” there is an incessant round -not only of fashionable entertainments, but also of such as are -indeed feasts of reason and of soul. You are invited to breakfast -at ten or eleven o’clock, and are sure to meet an agreeable -company, as few as the Graces, or as many as the Muses. One -after another the guests drop in, in morning dress, and among them -are a number of ladies who sit at table in their bonnets, and -generally add not a little to the liveliness of the company. There -is nothing, perhaps, before you besides an egg, with your tea and -toast; but the side-board is loaded with substantials, and you -have a variety of fruits to conclude the repast. The party conduct -themselves as if time were plenty, and easy conversation -goes round; your host occasionally drawing you out, on subjects -upon which you are supposed to be informed. After an hour or -more, there is a general breaking up, and Sir Somebody begs you -to take a seat in his carriage, which is waiting at the door, or Mr. -Blank proposes walking with you to the “University Club -House;” or you draw off to keep some other engagement. Ten -to one you breakfast somewhere else to-morrow, as the consequence -of making yourself as little disagreeable as possible -to-day; and so it goes on to your heart’s content, through the -week.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>You are invited to dinner, at any hour from five to eight, -sometimes, of course, very unceremoniously, and sometimes in -full form. You go at the hour appointed, and discover that -punctuality has ceased to be fashionable in London. I was often -surprised to observe the latitude given to guests, and taken by -the cook. At dinners, everything goes on as with us, save that -there is some form in announcing the guests, and also in placing -them at table. The servant vociferously proclaims “Mr. Green”—as -he flings open the door of the drawing-room, and if for a -moment you find yourself abashed by the noise which you find -yourself making, it is afterwards very agreeable to know who is who, -upon the arrival of others. A reverend personage enters in an -ecclesiastical coat, with silk apron, or cassock, and you hear him -proclaimed as “the Lord Bishop of ——,” or as “the Dean -of ——.” A pleasing, but quiet-looking gentleman appears, -under the sound of a name familiar as that of one of her -Majesty’s Cabinet Ministers. “Lord ——” is announced, and -you behold a somewhat <span class='it'>distingué</span> figure, wearing a glittering -decoration around the neck, or upon the breast. Several literary -or professional personages complete the company; and when the -ladies are waited upon to the dining-room, you are sure to be -paired with the suitable party, and to find yourself placed with -careful reference to your insignificance or importance, as the case -may be. As to the table, the good old English courses seem to -be giving way to foreign customs, as with us. It is not unusual -to sit down to flowers and fruits, and confectionary, and to see -nothing else for your dinner, except as the soup and other dishes -are brought you in succession, the meats being carved by the -servants, and all the old-fashioned notions, as to vegetables and -side dishes, very much Frenchified, and revolutionized. Grace -before meat, and after the removal of the cloth, was always -faithfully performed in the circles which I frequented; but I -was sorry to hear that this new style of serving the table has -somewhat affected those Christian proprieties, by confounding -“the <span class='it'>egg</span> and the <span class='it'>apples</span>,” and leaving one in doubt as to where -the dinner proper begins, or where it arrives at a legitimate conclusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The conversation at these dinners never seemed to me as -animated as that of breakfast parties. Even the half hour after -the withdrawal of the ladies, and the disappearance of servants, -was less sociable and sprightly. I must say, however, that I -entirely disagree with the profound Mr. Boswell, as regards the -introduction of children at the dessert, which, in my opinion, -greatly enlivens such occasions. In they come, rosy and beautiful, -fresh from the nursery toilet, and bringing joy and hilarity in -their eyes and faces! The son and heir steals up to his father; -a lovely girl is permitted by mamma to come timidly to you. I -was, indeed, a little surprised at a nobleman’s table, when his -boy, a youth of twelve or fourteen, came to his side, to find the -little fellow introduced as “Lord C——,” instead of <span class='it'>Harry</span> or -<span class='it'>Willie</span>, as it would have been with us; but, as nothing could -exceed the familiar and affectionate manner in which the title -was spoken, I saw at once that it was natural enough to others, -however unwonted to my Republican ear, to see a mere child so -formally announced. After this announcement he was called -simply “C——,” as if it had been his Christian name, and I -was pleased with his simple and unaffected manners throughout. -English children appear to be “under tutors and governors,” and -generally behave with becoming deference to elder persons. I -remember not a few of my little friends in England, with real -affection. Blessings, then, I say, on the children, and may it -never be unfashionable for them to be seen amid fruit and flowers, -at an American or an English table!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I accepted a few invitations to evening parties, but what to -call them I hardly knew. The superb apartments, in which -they were given, were crammed with the company; there were -perpetual exits and entrances; cries were constantly heard below -of—“Lady K——’s carriage stops the way;” while the -incessant grinding of wheels in the street proclaimed the arrival -and departure of the great and the gay, as they went the rounds -of many a similar scene during the same evening. At a splendid -residence in Piccadilly, I was presented on such an occasion -to the Duke of Wellington. He wore a plain black suit, with a -star on the breast of his coat; and when I first saw him he -was standing quite apart, with a noiseless and even retiring -dignity of appearance, to which his white head gave the chief -charm. I had no idea that I was near him, till turning suddenly, -his unmistakeable figure was before me. The rooms were -one blaze of rank and fashion; but for a while I could see no -one but the old hero. When I was introduced, I could do little -more than bow, and accept his polite recognition, for he was -quite deaf, and I had observed that conversation was evidently -distasteful to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On another evening, just after the Queen’s State Ball, I was -amused to meet, in a similar scene, the dresses and costumes -which had lately figured at the Palace. They were of historical -character, and hence peculiarly interesting. Here was Henrietta -Maria, the Queen of Charles First, and there was a lady of -the Court of Charles the Second. The stiff court fashions of -the Georges were also represented, and one could easily imagine -himself among Chesterfields and Rochesters. But, thank God, -the British Peerage, in our day, is dignified by better men, and -amid this brilliant masquerading, I first met with young Lord -Nelson, so justly beloved for his active interest in all good -works, and found him most agreeable in conversation, which, -even in such an assembly, was entirely in keeping with his -character. Here, too, I saw and conversed with the Duke of -Newcastle, since an important member of the British Ministry, -but then, and always, as I feel sure from his unaffected tone of -remark, not less than from his general reputation, an earnest -Christian, anxious to be a faithful steward, and to do what he -can for the extension of the kingdom of Christ among all mankind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The general interest felt in this country in the author of <span class='it'>Ion</span>, -may excuse my particular mention of a party at Lady Talfourd’s, -in which the literary and legal professions were more fully represented. -Here one saw the Barons of Westminster-Hall in their -proper persons, without the burthen of robes and wigs: while -moving about the rooms, one encountered a poet or popular -novelist, and not least, the amiable host himself. He made kind -inquiries concerning several of my distinguished countrymen, -and touching upon matters of law, paid a very high compliment -to the ability and legal skill with which the trial of Professor -Webster had been managed in Boston. Judge Talfourd appeared -then in the prime of life, and inspired me with respect by -his modest but dignified personal demeanour. He has since died -a death, on the bench, more impressive than that of heroes on -the field.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With regard to the tone of society in general, I think every -stranger must be struck with its elevation, whether intellectually -or morally considered. An English gentleman is generally highly -educated. Society consists of cultivated persons, male and -female, whose accomplishments are not displayed, but exist as a -matter of course, and as essential to one’s part in the duties and -civilities of life. No one ventures to feel better informed than -his neighbour, and hence there is a general deference to other -men’s opinions, and a reserve in expressing one’s own, which is -highly significant of extreme civilization and refinement. Such -a state of society, however, has its drawbacks. Character often -becomes neutralized, and genius itself dulled and flattened, where -to distinguish one’s self is felt to be an impropriety, and where -the manifestation of decided thought or feeling would be eccentric, -and even rude. Hence I observed a sort of uniformity in -manner and expression, which is sometimes depressing; and -when upon some private occasion, I discovered that the smooth, -quiet personage whom I had seen only in the dull propriety in -which the pressure of company had held him, like a single stone -in an arch, was a man of feeling, of taste, of varied information, -and accurate learning, I said to myself—‘what a lamentable -waste is here!’ This man who should have been enriching -the world with his stores of erudition and of reflection, has -never conceived of himself as having anything to impart, or by -which his fellow-man should profit. His accomplishments are, -like his fortune and respectability, his mere personal qualifications -for a position in society, in which he is contented merely to -move, without shining, or dispensing anything more than the -genial warmth of good humour and benevolence. There are -thousands of such men in England, living and dying in the most -exquisite relish of social pleasures, and deriving daily satisfaction -from their own mental resources, but contributing nothing -to the increase of the world’s intellectual wealth, and never -dreaming of their attainments as talents which they are bound to -employ. They live among educated men—knowledge is a drug -in their market: of course they know this or that, but so does -everybody else, and what have they to confer? It would be an -impertinence for them (so they seem to feel) to teach or to dictate -an opinion. Dr. Johnson has left a remark, in the records -of his biographer, upon this tendency of refinement to abase -individual merit, and I am sure a dogmatist like himself would -not now be supported in English society. So very odd and unaccountable -a phenomenon, even were his manners less forbidding, -would be intolerable in intelligent circles, to say nothing of -those of splendour and fashion. England exhibits just now the -smooth and polished surface of a social condition which has no -marked inequalities. Even rank fails to create those chasms and -elevations which were once so striking and formidable. Gentlemen -are very nearly alike, whatever their antecedents. All are -well-informed, all have travelled, all are well-bred, and alike -familiar with the world. The Universities, too, have done not a -little to assimilate characters. Minds have been fashioned in one -mould, and opinions shaped by one pattern. Even language and -expression, and personal carriage are reduced to a common formula. -I closely watched the pronunciation of thorough-bred -men, and often drew them into classical quotations, to observe -their delicacy in prosody, and their manner of pronouncing the -Latin. I prefer very much the German or Italian theories of -classical orthoepy; but for mere <span class='it'>longs and shorts</span>, there is no -such adept as an English tongue. They carry it into the vernacular, -however, against all analogy, and often startle an American -by what seems elaborate pedantry and affectation. You are confounded -by an allusion to Longfellow’s <span class='it'>Hyperion</span>—accent on the -penultimate; or you are puzzled by the inquiry whether any <span class='it'>doctrinal</span> -differences exist between the English and American -Churches—second syllable made studiously long! Yet the man -would be thought an intolerable ass who should display his -knowledge of purely French or Teutonic derivatives, by a similar -deference to etymology: and no one thinks of carrying out -this principle in all words of like analogy. Usage, however, -with all its caprices, settles every dispute; and we Americans -have no resource but conformity, unless we prefer to appear -provincial. English usage must be the law of the English -tongue, and the fashions of the court and capital are the standard -of usage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the authors of England, I had desired to see especially -Mr. Samuel Rogers, who is now the last survivor of a brilliant -literary epoch, and whose long familiarity with the historical personages -of a past generation, would of itself be enough to make -him a man of note, and a patriarch in the republic of letters. -Though now above ninety years of age, he still renders his elegant -habitation an attractive resort, and I was indebted to him -for attentions which were the more valuable, as he was, at that -time, suffering from an accident, and hence peculiarly entitled to -deny himself entirely to strangers. His house, in St. James’s-street, -has been often described, and its beautiful opening on the -Green Park is familiar from engravings. Here every Englishman -of literary note, during the last half century, has been at -some time a guest, and if its walls could but <span class='it'>Boswellize</span> the wit -which they have heard around the table of its hospitable master, -no collection of <span class='it'>Memorabilia</span> with which the world is acquainted, -could at all be compared with it. Here I met the aged poet, at -breakfast; Sir Charles and Lady Lyell completing the party. -He talked of the past as one to whom the present was less a -reality, and it seemed strange to hear him speak of Mrs. Piozzi, -as if he had been one of the old circle at Thrale’s. When a boy, -he rang Dr. Johnson’s bell, in Bolt Court, in a fit of ambition to -see the literary colossus of the time, but his heart failed him at -the sticking point, and he ran away before the door was opened. -Possibly the old sage himself responded to the call, and as he retired -in a fit of indignation, moralizing on the growing impertinence -of the age, how little did he imagine that the interruption -was a signal tribute to his genius, from one who, in the middle of -the nineteenth century, should be himself an object of veneration -as the Nestor of Literature!</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Oxford—Martyrs—Boat-race.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>My reader will be ready to forget London for a time; and -perhaps also to accompany me on an excursion. I went to -Oxford, for a few days, to keep some appointments, and found it -far more delightful than before, as the men were all up, and -everything looking bright and lively. The trees in the gardens -and meadows were in fine leaf; and many shrubs in full blossom, -so that what Nature has done for Oxford began to be as apparent -as the enchantments it derives from Art. In the gardens -of Exeter College I observed a Virginia creeper, luxuriantly -covering the walls, and had a good opportunity of contrasting -its effect with that of the ivy, for which, in our country, it is so -generally substituted. It is certainly more cheerful, but lacks -the dignity of its sullen rival. There is a fig-tree trained against -the college walls, said to be that favourite of one of its former -worthies, which a graceless Soph once stripped of its fruit, -leaving only a single fig, which he labelled, “a fig for Dr. -Kennicott.” Many are the minor traditions of Oxford, of a -similar sort. Every tree and shrub seems to have a history, -and “green memories” are here something more than a figure of -speech.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A Sunday at Oxford affords one, at least, the opportunity for -constant attendance upon Divine Service. I went, at 7 o’clock, -to St. Mary’s, where the <span class='sc'>Holy Eucharist</span> was celebrated, and -where I thankfully received the Sacrament, with a considerable -number of the parishioners, and members of the University. -After breakfast, at Jesus College, I returned to St. Mary’s, to -hear the Bampton Lecturer—Mr. Wilson, of St John’s. The -lecture was delivered, of course, before the University, the -Undergraduates filling the gallery, and the Dons the nave below. -The lecturer, preceded by the bedels, entered in company with -the Vice-Chancellor, to whom he bowed, as he turned to the -pulpit stairs. Mounting to his place, and covering his face with -his cap, he offered his private prayers, and then began the bidding-prayers, -in the usual form—making special mention of St. -John’s College, and of its benefactors, “such as were Archbishop -Laud, etc.” But let no one imagine that this was an -instance of spontaneous reverence for the Anglican Cyprian, for -the lecture which followed might have moved the very bones of -the martyr in his grave, so utterly did it conflict with the doctrines -of the Church. It was evidently received with great -dissatisfaction. It was decidedly clever, as to form and structure; -but savoured of <span class='it'>Bunsenism</span> quite too much for the taste of -a genuine Churchman. It was read in a dull, dry manner, more -befitting the doctrine than the occasion. But, I must own that -I greatly admire this way of University preaching; and the -freedom of a sermon, thus delivered, by itself, apart from the -service, and as a distinct thing, having its own time and object. -Subsequently, the Church having been emptied, and filled again -by a different congregation, the parochial service and sermon -went on in all respects, as usual. Then, in the afternoon, there -was a sermon before the University, preceded by the bidding-prayers, -as in the morning; save that the preacher made special -mention of Oriel College, of which he was a member, commemorating -its benefactors, “such as were King Edward the -Second, etc.” Then followed a powerful sermon, which evidently -produced a great sensation. The Church was crowded, -for the preacher was a general favourite. His manner was earnest, -and often eloquent: and, in tones of most solemn and vigorous -rebuke, he protested against the slavish dependence to which the -State seemed resolved to reduce the Church. The Gorham case -seemed to be in the preacher’s mind, and perhaps the flagrant -elevation to the Episcopate of Dr. Hampden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The parochial service again followed; after which I dined in -the Hall of Oriel, where I met the preacher among his old -collegians, and greatly enjoyed the company in general. After -dinner, we went to service in the College Chapel; and after this -there were still services in several places, though I did not attend -them. It would have been hard to have named an hour in the -whole day when services were not going on somewhere in this -City of Holy Places.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the Common-room of Oriel, I met with a very agreeable -person, to whom I owed not a little of subsequent pleasure, and -to whom I became warmly attached. At his instance, during -the week, I substituted the more <span class='it'>recherché</span> pleasure of a visit to -Nuneham Courtenay, for the more ordinary cockney pilgrimage -to Blenheim. I went in his company, and in his own carriage, -and had no reason to regret my adoption of his advice. The -grounds of Nuneham are proverbial for the beauty of genuine -English landscape, and a range in this noble park affords continual -prospects of cultivated fields, and snug hamlets, and the -silvery windings of the Isis through the meads. The gardens -and shrubbery are interspersed with urns and tablets and inscriptions, -in the Shenstone style, and among them I observed a -cenotaph of the poet Mason. The taste of the more artificial -charms of Nuneham is somewhat antiquated, and smacks of the -Hanoverian age, now happily departing: but it does one good to -see these things, as illustrating the period to which they belong. -I was all the time thinking of Jemmy Thomson, as I rambled -among the elms and yews of Nuneham; and especially when I -came to a clump of those spreading beeches, with smooth columnar -trunks, on which his swains were wont to endite their -amatory verses. Glimpses of Oxford, which one catches now -and then, add a special charm to this noble demesne, and the -Thames glitters here and there in the view to enliven a broad -survey of rural scenery, which can hardly be said to lack anything -appropriate to its English character. The Church of -Nuneham is the grand mistake. It looks like a fane erected to -the goddess of the wood, by some ancient Grecian, and provokes -something less pleasing than a smile, when one learns that it is -the successor of a genuine old English church, which was -judged a blemish to the classical charms of the house and gardens. -Of the rectory, although it is of modern design, I can -speak with more satisfaction. It is a charming residence, such -as an American parson seldom inhabits, but which one loves to -see others enjoying, and adorning with every domestic grace. Here -we lunched, substantially, concluding our repast with gooseberry-tart -and cream, such as no one ever tastes except in England; -thus gaining a conception of the rich glebe and pasturage of -Nuneham, which a more sentimental tourist might fail to carry -away from a mere feast of the eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We visited the parish-school, and I was particularly struck -with the neatness and order of the little academy, and not less -with the exactness of the instruction. The children of the -peasantry were the scholars, and, instead of jackets, the boys -nearly all wore the little plaited shirt of coarse brown linen, so -familiar to us from pictures, but so unlike anything worn by -American children, however humble in station. They were -very closely examined by their teachers, and their answers were -generally correct. America was pointed out on the map, and -when I was introduced to the little urchins as an American, it -was amusing to see their surprise. They seemed to pity me for -living so very far away! Then they were catechized. It did -me good to hear the familiar words, so often uttered by little -voices around the chancel rails of my own parish-church, now -repeated, in the same way, by these little English Christians. -Some of the subsidiary questions amused me, and not less the -answers, especially those under the phrase—“to honour and -obey the Queen, and all that are put in authority under her.” -Then came the clause—“to order myself lowly and reverently -to all my betters.” “And who are your betters?” asked the -master: to which, “Lady Waldegrave,” and other names of the -gentle inhabitants of Nuneham Courtenay, were most loyally -responded. In practical matters of a more strictly religious -character, the questions and replies were highly gratifying, and -often caused the tears to spring in my eyes, in view of the manifold -blessings which such instructions cannot fail to convey to -a nation, and to the souls of all who receive them. Alas! for -the schools of our country, where the children come together -under the blight of divers creeds, or of utter unbelief, and where -in solemn deference to the spirit of sect and party, religion is -daily less and less a tolerated element in the training of immortal -souls!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We drove pleasantly back to Oxford, passing Sanford, and -Cowley, and Iffley, and stopping at the Church of Littlemore, -which has been lately much improved, and in which we found -service going on. A drive into Oxford, from almost any direction, -cannot fail to please, so inspiring is the sight of the city itself, -and our return from Littlemore afforded, at least to myself, -some new and charming views of its prominent features, which -were now becoming quite familiar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For several days I lingered in the bewitching society of the -University, sharing its hospitalities, and daily revelling in the -inspection of its curiosities and antiquities. With what a spell -does the enjoyment of those mornings and evenings revive in my -fancy as I write. A breakfast-party at Merton, the cool breeze -of the morn coming in at the windows, fragrant from the -meadows; an extemporary lunch in the crypts of St. John’s, -tapping the college beer, and inspecting the ancient masonry of -its Gothic vaults, once the substructions of a monastery; a dinner -in the lordly hall of Magdalen, with dessert and conversation -in the Common-room; an evening party at Oriel, among wits, -and poets, and divines! Who would not allow that such are -substantial pleasures, realizing “those Attic nights, and refections -of the gods,” of which our fancy is full, in the earlier enthusiasm -of classical pursuits! And then the discourse was so -animating and refreshing. No hackney talk of dull common-place -sentiment, or of small-beer literature; but a roving, haphazard, -review of grave and gay together; a deep and earnest -discussion of religious themes; a sprightly dash into politics; -quick questions and replies about America, and republics, and -democracies; illustrative quotations of a fresh and spontaneous -character, often garnished with some ingenious misapplication, -or original supply of words, for the sake of sport; a sharp debate -about the civil wars; a dissection of Macaulay; a clever -story of old Parr; and reviving anecdotes of Oxford and old -times; with a glow of kindly and religious feeling in all, without -cant or ostentation; these were the filling up of successive days -and nights in those halls and chambers of dear, dear Oxford, -which I cannot remember without a grateful thrill, and which I -can only put aside from covetous regret, by calm faith that “it is -more blessed to give than receive.” After all, it is in every way -more worthy of a Christian, to toil in the wilderness, than to -recline in the bowers, and to enter into the labours of by-gone -generations. Yes—dear as are the delights of a life in academic -shades, and unparalleled as are the advantages of mind and body -with which Oxford ennobles her children, I would prefer a -Divinity chair at Nashotah, to a fellowship at Magdalen, or to the -richest benefice which the University can bestow. It is hazardous -to enjoy too much; and how great the responsibility in such -a world as this, of receiving anything for which we may fail to -make a return to God and men, and which must go to make our -stewardship more fearful, against the day of account!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have gifts differing. Far be it from me to insinuate that -the life of an Oxford Fellow is ordinarily an idle or useless one. -Many of them are as laborious and as useful men as ever wrote -or thought, and great are the blessings which they diffuse around -them. Too often have their generous hospitalities been mistaken -for habitual self-indulgences; and even guests who have tasted -their wine without a murmur, have sometimes gone away to -complain of convivialities, of which they were themselves the -exacting proponents. But when the question is not as to them, -but as to ourselves, we are surely at liberty to prefer our humbler -and less favoured lot! Shall we repine because we are Americans, -and because we shall never live to see an Oxford in our -own dear country? God forbid! I love to think that it is -theirs to enjoy, and mine only to remember; and that if toil and -self-denial are the lot of an American clergyman, he is, nevertheless, -fulfilling a mission more immediately like that of his glorious -Master, and less fraught with temptations to make one’s heaven -this side the grave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had seen the Duke of Wellington and Samuel Rogers. -There was one whom I desired to see besides, and on some accounts, -with deeper interest, to complete my hold upon the surviving -past. For sixty years had Dr. Routh been president of -Magdalen, and still his faculties were strong, and actively engaged -in his work. I saw him in his 97th year; and it seemed -as if I had gone back a century, or was talking with a reverend -divine, of the olden time, who had stepped out of a picture-frame. -He sat in his library, in gown and bands, wearing a -wig, and altogether impressing me as the most venerable figure I -had ever beheld. Nothing could exceed his cordiality and -courtesy, and, though I feared to prolong my visit, his earnestness -in conversation more than once repressed my endeavour to -rise. He remembered our colonial clergy, and related the -whole story of Bishop Seabury’s visit, and of his application to -the Scottish Church, which Dr. Routh himself first suggested. -‘And now,’ said I, ‘we have thirty Bishops and 1,500 clergy.’ -He lifted his aged hands, and said, “I have, indeed, lived to see -wonders,” and he added devout expressions of gratitude to God, -and many inquiries concerning our Church. I had carried an -introduction to him from the Rev. Dr. Jarvis, and at the same -time, announced the death of that lamented scholar and divine, -whose funeral I had attended a few days before I sailed from -America. He spoke of him with affection and regret, and also -referred to his great regard for Bishop Hobart. I could not say -farewell to such a patriarch, in the meaningless forms of ordinary -intercourse, and, as I rose to depart, I craved his blessing, and -humbly knelt to receive it. He placed his venerable hand upon -my head, and said—“God Almighty bless you, for Jesus Christ’s -sake,” and so I took my departure, with my heart full, and with -tears in my eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Going, quite alone, to St. John’s College, I indulged myself in -delightful meditations as I lounged in its gardens, and watched -the young gownsmen shooting arrows at a target, or enjoying -themselves about the walks. I went into the quadrangle, that -munificent monument of Laud’s affection for his beloved college. -I passed on to the chapel. The door was not locked, and I entered -it alone. Beneath the altar lies the Archbishop’s mutilated -corpse; and there, too, lies the stainless Juxon, whom he loved -so well, and who served the last moments of Charles the First -with the holy offices of the Church. I gave myself up to the -powerful impressions of the spot, and spent a few minutes in very -solemn meditations. In the library of the college I afterwards -saw the pastoral crook of the martyred Primate; the little staff -which supported his tottering steps on the scaffold, and the cap -which covered his venerable head only a few minutes before it -fell from the block.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the street, before Balliol College, the martyrs Latimer and -Ridley were burned. Perhaps the precise spot is not known; -but among the paving-stones, there is fixed in the earth a little -cross, sunk to a level with the street, and simply designating the -supposed site of the stake. It was one of my pleasures, during -this visit to Oxford, to meet with Bishop Otey, then just arrived -from America; and I had the pleasure of conducting that excellent -missionary prelate to this sacred spot of suffering for Christ. -I shall never forget the enthusiasm with which he uncovered his -head, as he stood there, and blessed God for the testimony of His -Martyrs; and I am sure he will forgive this allusion to the scene, -for it greatly impressed me at the time, and even now seems very -striking. “We shall this day light such a candle, by God’s -grace, as shall never be put out”—said old Latimer to Ridley, in -1555, and in spite of fire and faggot, and Armada, and Gunpowder -plot, and Father Petrie, and Father Newman, there stood -in 1851, the Bishop of Tennessee, blessing <span class='sc'>God</span> for the light of -that candle in the wilds of America! A superb memorial of the -three Oxford Martyrs stands not far from the place where they -suffered—and should have stood just here, where it would have -been more conspicuous and appropriate—but I felt that such an -incident far more powerfully attested the prophecy. How -strange it seemed, in St. Mary’s, on the preceding Sunday, to -reflect that from those very aisles, not longer since than three -such lives as Dr. Routh’s might measure, the venerable Primate -of all England had been ruthlessly dragged forth, by the hands -of brethren in the priesthood, and by the same hands burnt to -death, hard by, with the mockery of thanksgiving to <span class='sc'>God</span>, and -in the name of zeal for His glory! Truly, Rome may thank -herself for the abhorrence with which the universal Anglo-Saxon -race (among whom a few emasculate exceptions are not to be -reckoned,) regard alike her blandishments and her cruelties.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How rapidly flew the hours in which I lounged in the Bodleian -and other libraries, or went from college to college, to inspect -its pictures and antiquities! Here, a manuscript of <a id='caed'></a>Cædmon, -which the Anglo-Saxon professor kindly interpreted to me -as I inspected it; and there, a <span class='it'>Chaucer</span>, and “the Game of -Chesse,” from the primitive press of Caxton, exposed to my admiring -gaze the small beginnings of the wonderful Literature of -the English tongue. In the Ashmolean Museum I beheld, with -still greater reverence, the jewel once worn by the immortal Alfred, -to which I felt that Victoria’s <span class='it'>Koh-i-noor</span> was but a twinkling -and lack-lustre pendant. In the curious old muniment-room of -Merton, I was scarcely less pleased to behold the venerable -charters and patents, engrossed in ancient characters, and sealed -with quaint historic seals, by which their lands and hereditaments -are still retained, and from which the whole Collegiate System -of Oxford is derived. The chapel of this charming college is -worthy of the noble foundation to which it belongs; and, as my -amiable <span class='it'>cicerone</span> was an accomplished architectural artist and antiquarian, -I was not allowed to inspect its details superficially. -His own hand had, very recently, restored the elaborate decorations -of the vaulting, in beautiful colours and designs; and he -appeared to appreciate the high privilege which he had enjoyed, -of mingling his own handiwork, in this manner, with that of ancient -and inventive genius. His mediæval tastes had perhaps -become a hobby with him; I observed, with pain, some morbid -symptoms of unreality in his excessive devotion to the mere -æsthetics of religion; but did not then suppose, as since has -proved the sad result, that he was destined to add another to -those children of the captivity, who, by the rivers of Babylon, -have so estranged themselves from Sion, that their tongue seems -indeed to have been smitten with the palsy of untruth, and their -right hand to have forgotten its cunning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I saw, one pleasant evening, the first boat-race of the season. -Going into Christ Church Meadows, in company with several -gownsmen, we soon joined a crowd of under-graduates, and -others who were seeking the banks of the Isis. The rival boats -were still far up the stream, but here we found their flags displayed -upon a staff, one above the other, in the order of their -respective merit, at the last rowing match. The flag of Wadham -waved triumphant, and the brilliant colours of Balliol, Christ -Church, Exeter, etc., fluttered scarce less proudly underneath. -What an animated scene those walks and banks exhibited, as the -numbers thickened, and the flaunting robes of the young academics -began to be seen in dingy contrast with the gayer silks and -streamers of the fair! Even <span class='it'>town</span>, as well as <span class='it'>gown</span>, had sent -forth its representatives, and you would have said some mighty -issue was about to be decided, had you heard their interchange -of breathless query and reply. A distant gun announced that -the boats had started, and crowds began to gather about a bridge, -in the neighbouring fields, where it was certain they would soon -be seen, in all the speed and spirit of the contest. Crossing the -little river in a <span class='it'>punt</span>, and yielding to the enthusiasm which now -filled the hearts and faces of all spectators, away I flew towards -the bridge, and had scarcely gained it when the boats appeared—Wadham -still ahead, but hotly pressed by Balliol, which in turn -was closely followed by the crews of divers other colleges, all -pulling for dear life, while their friends, on either bank, ran at -their side, shouting the most inspiriting outcries! The boats were -of the sharpest and narrowest possible build, with out-rigged -thole-pins for the oars. The rowers, in proper boat-dress, or -rather undress, (close-fitting flannel shirt and drawers,) were lashing -the water with inimitable strokes, and “putting their back” -into their sport, as if <span class='it'>every man</span> was indeed determined <span class='it'>to do his -duty</span>. “Now, Wadham!” “Now, Balliol!” “Well pulled, -Christ Church!” with deafening hurrahs, and occasional peals of -laughter, made the welkin ring again. I found myself running -and shouting with the merriest of them. Several boats were but -a few feet apart, and stroke after stroke not one gained upon -another, perceptibly. Where there was the least gain, it was -astonishing to see the pluck with which both winner and loser -seemed to start afresh; while redoubled cries of “Now for it, -Merton,” “Well done, Corpus,” and even “Go it, again”—which -I had supposed an Americanism—were vociferated from the banks. -All at once—“a bump!” and the defeated boat fell aside, while -the victors pressed on amid roars of applause. The chief interest, -however, was, of course, concentrated about “Wadham,” the -leader, now evidently gained upon by “Balliol.” It was indeed -most exciting to watch the half-inch losses which the former -was experiencing at every stroke! The goal was near; but the -plucky Balliol crew was not to be distanced. A stroke or two -of fresh animation and energy sends their bow an arm’s length -forward. “Hurrah, Balliol!” “once more”—“a bump!” -“Hurrah-ah-ah!” and a general cheer from all lungs, with hands -waving and caps tossing, and everything betokening the wildest -excitement of spirits, closed the contest; while amid the uproar -the string of flags came down from the tall staff, and soon went -up again, with several transpositions of the showy colours—Wadham’s -little streamer now fluttering <span class='it'>paulo-post</span>; but victorious -Balliol flaunting proudly over all. It was growing dark; and it -was surprising how speedily the crowd dispersed, and how soon -all that frenzy of excitement had vanished like the bubbles on -the river.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Iffley—A Drive Across the Country.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>A visit to Magdalen School, and a subsequent dinner with the -scholars, (who are the singers in the chapel), was another of my -pleasures, from which I derived fresh convictions of the superior -training of English school-boys, alike in physical, mental, and -moral discipline. Everything was done with method and precision. -The boys looked fresh and rosy, and perfectly happy, and -yet their master was as evidently strict with them, as he was also -kind. Some of them will win scholarships in the college, and -from that, fellowships; and so will make their way to the highest -posts of honour and usefulness, for which they will be thoroughly -furnished in all respects. There is a new Educational College at -Radley, several miles from Oxford, of which the projector and -founder is the well-known Mr. Sewell, of Exeter—by whose -kind invitation I went out, one day, to visit it. I was kindly -accompanied by a distinguished Fellow of Oriel, who with several -young men, whom he had enlisted for the purpose, gave me a row -up the Thames to Iffley. We took our boat, in Christ Church -meadows, and so went over the scene of the race which I have -endeavoured to describe. I was unfortunately made steersman, -and more than once found myself running the bow of the boat -into the bushes, while I stared around me, at every beast and -bird, and at every wall, and every bush, and at every green thing, -with a greener look no doubt, to my unlucky companions, than -anything in the scene besides. It was the Thames—or the Isis -if you please—it was the river of the Oxonians; and I lost -myself, in contemplations, on the most trifling suggestion of novelty, -or of age, which surrounding objects presented. This little -voyage was realizing to me the dreams of many years; and when -we landed near the picturesque old mill, with which so many -drawings and engravings have made every one acquainted, I felt -that anything but my pilotage was to be credited with our escape -from shipwreck. My conscience accuses me of having paid attention -to everything except my immediate duty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Iffley Church, as every Ecclesiologist will tell you, is a study -of itself. Five windows in this Church are said to present the -characteristics of five periods of pointed architecture, extending -through as many centuries; while the details of enrichment and -design afford innumerable specimens of inventive art, embracing -somewhat of the rude and elemental Saxon, with the riper and -more varied beauties of Norman embellishment. The church is -supposed to have been built in the earlier part of the twelfth -century; it affords many interesting examples of subsequent -alteration and repair; and has lately received much attention, in -the way of retouching and restoring its olden beauties. In the -churchyard is the remnant of its ancient cross, and also a yew -tree scarcely less aged, but much decayed. The font, which -stands near the door, is of large dimensions and of very curious -construction, generally supposed to be Norman, and of the same -date with the Church. Although the beautiful interior retains -some useless appendages of mediæval rites no longer practised, it -is a most fitting and becoming Anglo-Catholic church, and one in -every way satisfactory, as it stands, to the purposes of the English -Liturgy. Without and within, it was, at the time I visited it, the -most interesting object of its kind which I had ever seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On resuming our boat, which had been lifted above the dam by -means of a lock, we rowed about a mile further up the river, and -then, taking to the fields, went across them to Radley. Here I -met Mr. Sewell, and went with him to see Radley Church, a -picturesque little temple, and then over his college, chapel and -grounds. This college is a very interesting experiment, and aims -to combine, on a plan somewhat novel, several important elements -of academic and religious life. The taste which has presided over -its establishment is very apparent, and not less the benevolence -and piety of its founder. I was surprised to find it, although so -entirely new, presenting everywhere the appearance of age and -completeness. The architecture of the chapel especially, though -plain in comparison with that of almost all older structures of a -similar kind, is yet very effective; and the service, as performed -in it, by the aid of the pupils, was exceedingly inspiring and -refreshing. After a visit which I was kindly led to protract -beyond my intent, I returned to Oxford on foot, in the company -of Mr. Sewell. Our path lay through Bagley-Wood, and never -shall I forget the charming conversational powers of my guide, or -the pleasure of wandering, with such a companion, through the -tangled and briery copse, and intervening glades of that academic -forest. At last we struck the Abingdon road, and entered -Oxford by the bridge under the Tower of Magdalen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Amid so many recollections of a graver character, there is one -connected with Oxford which never revives without exciting a -smile. I went one day into the <span class='it'>House of Convocation</span>, where the -Vice-Chancellor was conferring degrees, in a business way, very -few, besides those immediately interested, being present. Among -the candidates was one very portly individual, who, either from -his advancing years, or because of some new preferment, had felt -it his duty to incur the expense of being made, in course, a Doctor -of Divinity. It was evidently many years since the proposing -Doctor had been familiar with University forms and ceremonies; -and it appeared to me that some very rustic parish had probably, -in the meantime, enjoyed the benefit of his services. When the -performance required him to do this, or that, it was apparent that -the worthy divine was not a little confused, while it was still more -painfully clear, that his confusion afforded anything but feelings -of regret to the junior portion of the academical body which surrounded -him. When required to kneel before a very youthful -looking proctor, an audible titter went the rounds, as his burly -figure sank to the floor, amid the balloons of silk with which he -was invested, to say nothing of the gaudy colours which he now -wore, for the first time, with ill-suppressed satisfaction. But the -<span class='it'>Oath of Abjuration</span> was to be administered, and this proved the -most critical part of the proceedings: for, oath as it was, it was -made almost a farcical formality, by the manner in which it was -taken. As this oath is a little antiquated, at any rate, and seems -hardly demanded by the present relations between a powerful -sovereign and the mere shadow of a pontiff who now apes Hildebrand, -on the Seven Hills, it would seem good taste to go through -with it with as little display of furious Protestantism as possible. -So evidently thought the proctor, but not so the Doctor elect, -whose powerful imagination probably suggested to him that -Victoria was Queen Elizabeth, and Dr. Wiseman a Babbington, -as no doubt he is. If her Majesty labours under similar impressions, -she has at least one loyal subject, and it would have done -her heart good to have heard the utterance of his loyalty on this -occasion; for with most earnest emphasis did he swear, that “he -did from his heart detest and abjure, as impious and heretical, -that damnable doctrine and position, that princes excommunicated -by the Pope, <span class='it'>may be deposed or murthered by their subjects</span>,” -&c., &c. So, no doubt, thought and felt all present; but as the -Doctor seemed to consider himself, for the moment, a sort of -Abdiel, and spoke with an epic dignity somewhat unusual to the -Convocation house, it was irresistibly ludicrous to behold the -smothered merriment of the youthful Oxonians, who shook their -sides while the Doctor fulmined, and who seemed to think both -him and the Pope a little too old for Young England and the nineteenth -century.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My excursion to Nuneham Courtenay proved but the preface -to a much more important episode, in company with the same -agreeable friend who was my guide on that occasion, and who -now drew me into a change of plans and purposes, to which I -owed much subsequent pleasure. We were at breakfast together, -in the rooms of a common friend at Merton, when the scheme -was perfected for a drive through Oxfordshire, in his private carriage, -and for several subsequent excursions, of which the centre -should be his residence, near Cheltenham. A friend, then keeping -his terms for a Master’s degree, at New Inn Hall, gave us his -company for a few hours, on the way; and a delightful companion -he proved, not only for his essential qualities as such, but -because he happened to have been a tourist in America, and was -able to imagine, in some degree, how an American must regard -the contrast continually furnished him by a tour in England. -Our road first took us over a corner of Berkshire, through a pleasing -variety of hills and vales, sighting Cumnor on the left, and -passing Wytham on the other hand, and so again entering -Oxfordshire, by a bridge over the Thames, which here makes a -bend among the little mountains. Our first stage was complete -when we arrived at Eynsham, where we drew up at the village -inn, and contrived to pass an hour very pleasantly, although, from -the appearance of the place, one would say, at first, it was fit only -to sleep in. How quiet a village can be, even in populous and -busy England, and so hard by Oxford! There stood the slender -market-cross that had survived the storms of centuries, and the -more violent batterings of Puritan iconoclasts. Broken and -bruised as it was, it seemed good for centuries more, amid so -peaceful a community as now surrounds its venerable tutelage. -Whether the exemplary character of the present inhabitants be -owing at all to the parish stocks, which stand near the cross, in -most Hudibrastic grouping with surrounding objects, I cannot -determine; but there they are, and I could fancy a stout brace -of Puritans, of Butler’s sort, undergoing its salutary penance; or -even one of Hogarth’s unlucky wights experiencing the rude -sympathies of men and boys in the passiveness of its bondage. -How speaking a picture of rigorous parochial justice those queer -old stocks, under lee of the market-house, afforded to my imagination! -How many vagrant feet and ankles have there been relieved -from the curse of Cain! how many a vagabond they have furnished -with persuasives to rest and meditation! Really—one could not -be properly pensive, in sight of such a commentary on human -guilt and misery: for the parish stocks are but of distant kin to -gallows and guillotine, and hardly more than little brothers of -whipping-post and pillory; their ignominy being rather that of -ridicule than of scorn, and their severity being the very least of -all the penalties of law. I did not know that such instruments of -wholesome discipline were still in existence under the English -sceptre, and hence my amusement and surprise to behold them, -and to find so many memories of their history reviving at the -sight; among which were prominent those classical verses of the -Anti-Jacobin—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Justice Oldmixen put me in the parish-</p> -<p class='line0'>                      Stocks, for a vagrant.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Verily a queer old place is Eynsham, from the days of King -Ethelred, the Unready, who had a villa here, and those of King -Stephen, who gave it the very equivocal privilege of a market -“on the Lord’s day,” under the patronage of its Abbot and its -monks. On inquiring for the remains of the Abbey, we were -informed that some new relics of its ancient chapel and cemetery -had just been discovered in a neighbouring field. We had therefore -the pleasure of seeing, sure enough, the encaustic tiles of its -sanctuary, just laid bare, after ages of concealment in the earth. -They were of various patterns and devices, St. George and the -Dragon forming, apparently, a conspicuous part of the design. -But the old gardener who showed us these discoveries, went on -to tell us that in digging further, he had just laid bare some <span class='it'>frames</span> -which he should like to have us see, and so leading us to another -part of the ground, he showed us <span class='it'>the frames</span>, indeed, which -proved to be nothing less than the skeletons of the old monks of -Eynsham, protruding from their graves. Often had these same -“frames” sung in the choir, and walked over those same tiles we -had just been viewing. How old they might be we could not say; -but they were the bones of old Christians, and most probably of -Christian priests, and there they had been laid in hope of the -Resurrection, so that it seemed to me almost profane to be -staring at them, as if they were a show. <span class='it'>Requiescant in pace.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The village church had been an appurtenance of the Abbey, -and was, no doubt, comely in its day. It had suffered not a little, -however, from whitewash, and other <span class='it'>Churchwarden-isms</span>. There -had evidently been a fine rood-loft, but every vestige of it was -gone, save that there was the solid stair-way in the wall, and -there again the door-way, still open, through which the ancient -Gospeller used to make his appearance in the loft, to read the -Holy Evangel for the day. ‘Poor fellow,’ thought I, ‘when -did he climb those steps, and issue from that door, for the last -time? Was he indeed a Gospeller, grateful for a chance thereafter -to read the Word of God, in the vulgar tongue; or was he -some Marian Monk, who had raked the coals about Latimer and -Ridley, in Oxford, and who trembled, while he sung his Latin -Missal, lest the news of Elizabeth’s accession should prove too -true?’ How strange it would seem to an American priest, to find -himself officiating, Sunday after Sunday, in a church whose very -walls are a monument, not only of the Reformation, but of -“Hereford Use,” and “Salisbury Use,” or other usages now forever -superseded, but which had a long existence, and have left -their mark, alike in stone and timber, and in the vernacular -Liturgy of the Church of England!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We left the little village, and pursued our journey very pleasantly -till we met the Oxford coach coming down, in full drive, -but stopping as we hailed it, in behalf of our friend of New Inn -Hall. He was obliged to return, for sleeping a single night out -of Oxford, during his term, would disqualify him for his degrees. -So we reluctantly saw him climb to a lofty seat, among a motley -crew of passengers, and whirl away, as we waved him our adieu. -We continued our journey to Witney, where again we paused, to -survey its ancient cruciform Church—which would make a fine -cathedral in America—and to take our luncheon with the good -vicar, who received us very hospitably. I was surprised at the -greatness of the Church, and the beauty of many of its details, but -I believe it was once an Abbey Church, and its architectural -merits are such as to have furnished not a few favourite examples -to ecclesiological publications. The village itself is a decayed -one, having formerly been of consequence as the seat of a famous -blanket manufacture, which made “Witney” a household word -with housewives, especially in cold weather. Our drive next -brought us to Minster-Lovel, the scene of the “Old English -Baron;” and next to a “deserted village,” which looked as little -like Auburn as possible, for it had been built by a pack of infidels, -to show the world what a village ought to be, and so had speedily -become as dead as Pompeii. It was now “for sale,” but no one -seemed disposed to buy, and I suspect it may yet be had at a bargain. -England is no soil for fools to flourish in; and it is a pity that -when they find it out, they are so wont to come to America, -where they join the Mormons, or set up for superfine republicans, -and vent their hatred of England in our newspapers, -which are then quoted by the writers in the <span class='it'>London Times</span>, as -proof of American feelings towards the mother country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The country we were now traversing had once been scoured by -the troopers of the fiery Rupert, and my friend, whom I will call -Mr. V——, finding my enthusiasm rising at the mention of his -clarion and jack-boots, began to play upon me by suggesting that -some mounds which we saw in the distance were the remains of -one of his encampments. This was a very fine idea, but, resolved -to hunt up the local traditions with respect to it, I asked a passing -boor if he could tell me anything about the barrows. Oh, for a -page of “the Antiquary,” to give my reader some conception of -the effect produced by the reply! “Prætorian here—Prætorian -there,” said old Edie Ochiltree, “I mind the bigging o’t;” and -with equal bathos responded my boor—“Them there be some old -brick-yards!” “Alas!” cried I—“it is Monkbarns and castrametation, -over again;” and a laugh arose from the Oxford pilgrims, -at which the boor startled, and fled away, no doubt with strong -persuasion that we were a pair of madmen, just broke loose from -the deserted settlement aforesaid, of which, I should have mentioned, -the neighbouring peasantry seemed to entertain a very -wholesome fear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Commend me to Burford, our next halting-place, as a village -of most exemplary independence of this nineteenth century. -Some old houses, which struck me as I entered it, bore an inscription -by which I learned that a good burgess built them for a -charitable use in the time of Queen Elizabeth. I should think no -house had been built in Burford since that date, so entirely unlike -a modern town is its chief street, with all its lanes and by-ways. -Here, now, was England—the England we read of! None of -your Manchesters and Liverpools, but an innocent, sleepy old village -that was of vast repute when those snobbish places were -unknown. Here met a Church Synod, A. D., 685, to settle the -question about the British Easter usages, and here worthy Peter -Heylin was born in 1600. The little river Windrush runs through -the place, and on its banks stands the ancient Church of St. John -the Baptist, to which we repaired forthwith. Here we found an -unexpected treat, in the exceeding richness of its Norman architecture, -and in the many delicate traces of its former perfection, -which had escaped the ravages of time. The tower and spire, -the south porch and the windows, afforded a most entertaining -and instructive study. Some old inscriptions remained, entreating -the passer-by to pray for the departed soul of such and such -benefactors. The interior enchanted me. Here was a “Silvester -aisle,” in which, for generation after generation, certain -worthies of that name have been buried under costly monuments, -most curious to behold. But what pleased me most was one of -those huge monuments, like an ancient state-bed, with canopy -and posts complete, on which lay, side by side, a worthy knight -and his dame, persons of a famous repute under Queen Elizabeth, -and the grand-parents of the stainless Falkland. “Sir Launcelot -Tanefield” was the name of the knight, and if I mistake not, he -was, at one time, Lord Chief Justice of England, and Burford -was his native place. From this charming old Church I could -hardly tear myself away. I suspect few travellers have visited it, -and I congratulated myself on having met with such a friend as -V——, to draw me out of the beaten track, and show me something -of England, that is England still.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Continuing our journey, we passed an old Manor house, picturesquely -seated in a valley, at which I could have looked -contentedly for an hour, so entirely did it answer to my ideas of -many a manorial residence, which had pleased my boyish fancy, -in novels and romances. Next we passed Barrington Park, the -seat of Lord Dynevor, and soon after, another beautiful park, the -seat of Lord Sherborne. And now, our journey lay over one of -the Cotswold hills, which reminded me somewhat of a drive over -Pokono, in Pennsylvania, so lonely and even wild did it seem, in -comparison with the country we had just been traversing. We -came to North Leach, where again we alighted to survey a Church, -perched on a rising ground, above the houses of the village, which -are mostly very old, with curious gables, and built along narrow -lanes, in very primitive style. This Church had suffered more -from accidental causes, than that at Burford, but was scarcely -less interesting to me. Its curious gurgoyles particularly arrested -my attention, and within, some good brasses, and other monuments. -It has a fine porch, and its general architecture seems of -a period somewhat between the decorated and the perpendicular. -We were now in Gloucestershire, and I shall never forget that it -was in passing over a hill near Stow-on-the-Wold, that I first -heard the nightingale. “There,” said V——, “there is Philomela! -not mourning, but wooing; ’tis her love-note”—and I listened -with a sense of enchantment. Perhaps I was in the mood to be -delighted, for certainly I had never spent a day in such charming -travel before, and I was conscious of a pleasure, which I cannot -describe, arising from the realization of my dreams, in forecasting, -through a long series of years, such a journey through England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In descending the Cotswold hills, I caught, here and there, -some enchanting views; little churches perched upon the brows -of hillocks, or half buried in the vales; or farm-houses and cottages -not less beautifully situated; or the seats of country squires -and other gentry, embosomed amid trees, or lifting their chimnies -above a few lordly elms. But the charm of all was yet reserved -for me; and just after sunset, as we wound around a broad hillside, -I came upon a scene, at which, it seemed to me, I might have -gazed all my life without weariness or satiety. ‘Stop—stop! -my dear V——, where are you driving?’ said I, beseeching him -to rein up, and let me look for a few minutes on as perfect a picture -of English scenery as ever Gainsborough portrayed, all spread -before us, without a blemish; its lights and shadows just as an -artist would have them; and yet vivid with nature, beyond all -that an artist could create. The time, remember, was evening, in -one of its sweetest effects of sky and atmosphere, cool and calm; -the lighter landscape deeply green; the shadows brown and dying -into night; the water shining here like burnished steel, and there -lying in shade, as darkly liquid as a dark eye in female beauty. -The view was a narrow dell, just below the road, in which stood -an old manor house, ivied to its chimney tops, and encircled by a -moat. Smoke of the most delicate blue was floating thinly from -its chimnies, into the clear air; and just at hand was peeping, -from a dense growth of trees, the belfry of a very tiny Church, -which seemed to be there only on purpose to complete the picture. -Cattle were grazing in the meads, and under a vast and sombre -yew tree, sat a group of farm-servants, shearing the largest sheep -of the flock, the wool flaking off upon the green grass, like driven -snow. While we gazed on this living picture, with mute pleasure, -the soft notes of a bird added sweet sounds to the enchantment -of sight, and I sat, as in a spell, without speaking a word. -My friend V—— himself, who had been laughing at me all day, -for my enjoyment of what to him were common and unsuggestive -objects, fairly gave up at this point, and owned it was a sight to -make one in love with life. Even now I have lying before me a -letter in which he refers to this view of “the sheep-shearing,” and -concludes by the pathetic announcement that the horse to which -we were indebted for that day’s progress, has since been sold to a -coach proprietor, and now runs leader from Evesham to Stratford. -“Little thinks he,” continues the letter, “as the lash of the cruel -Jehu touches his flank, of the classic ground he travels; little -recks he of Harry of Winchester, Simon de Montfort, or our -friend Rupert—for Rupert had a desperate struggle thereabouts—or -yet of Queen Bess, as he enters Bedford, in Warwickshire, or -even of the immortal Will, as he halts at Stratford.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So winding down our road, amid firs and oaks, and enjoying -new beauties at every turn, we came through Charlton Kings, -into the broad and teeming vale, adorned by modern Cheltenham. -It is a noble amphitheatre, to which the bold outline of the Cotswold -hills gives dignity, and which abounds with minor charms on -every side. I was soon lodged at my friend V——’s, after due -introduction to his family, including a visit to the nursery, where -some lovely children were allowed to salute me with their innocent -kisses, and thus to make me sure of a welcome to their -father’s house.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Worcester—Malvern—Gloucester.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>My first excursion with my friend V——, was to Worcester -and Malvern. In Worcester of course the great attraction is the -cathedral, and thither we went immediately upon our arrival, -and found Service going on. We lingered without the choir, -and listened to the anthem, as it rose from the voices within; -and then, as the prayers went on, in the monotone of chaunting, -varied by the occasional cadence of the priest, and the sweet response -of the singers, we had an opportunity of worship which I -trust was not only enjoyed, but reverently appropriated in devotion. -Service ended, the verger, with his mace, issued from the -doors of the choir, preceding the singers in their surplices, and -the residentiary canons—far too feeble a force, however, for a -cathedral, in which “the spirit of a living creature” should always -be “within the wheels,” giving motion and reality to the -routine of daily prayers, and fasts, and festivals. There is no excuse -for the present condition of the English cathedrals. They -require the most thorough reforms to make them felt as blessings. -At Worcester I began to feel that such was the case, and the -painful conviction increased upon me, throughout my subsequent -tour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We now surveyed the venerable temple, and experienced the -usual annoyance of the verger’s expositions. Here was the monument -of King John; and there the chapel tomb of Arthur, -Prince of Wales, the first husband of Queen Katherine of Arragon. -Here, too, are shown the statues of St. Oswald, an early bishop of -this see, and of Wolstan, another bishop who laid the foundation -of the existing cathedral, in the eleventh century. The choir is -impressive, but the eastern window struck me as too predominantly -green, and altogether as somewhat kaleidoscopic. Among -the more modern monuments, a small bas-relief, by Bacon, struck -me as very meritorious. A widow with her three children -gathered about her, and bending to the storm of sorrow, was the -fitting memorial of a departed husband and father. Or was it -that the group reminded me of the treasures of my own far-off -home, and of the scene which an Atlantic storm might so easily -create around the fireside that would be trimmed for my return! -At any rate, it touched me, and reminded me that I was in a -house of prayer, where ejaculations might be wafted from the -heart, and answered three thousand miles away. Other associations -made me pause before the tomb of Bishop Hough, that -brave old president of Magdalen, to whose resistance of the Popish -James I have referred before. The sculpture is by Roubilliac, -but is free from the usual affectations of that artist; and the -scene in Magdalen College is represented on the base of the -monument. We lingered about the exterior for some time, and -were particularly struck with the flying buttresses of the choir, -as the most pleasing portion of the venerable structure. After a -visit to one of the prebendal residences in the cloisters, we loitered -about the town for an hour, and then took the top of the stage-coach -for Malvern.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Several coaches were starting at the same time for diverse -points of the compass, and here we had before us something of -the moribund system of travel of the days of George the Fourth. -The flaming red liveries of the whip and the guard, with the notes -of the bugle as we whirled over the Severn, gave one a sense of -the poetry of locomotion which suggested some foolish sighs -over the achievements of invention, and the age of the rail. -However, it was something to be thankful for, that there was as -yet no tunnel under Malvern hills. Crack went the whip—and -away sprung the horses, and very soon the tower of the cathedral -was all we could see of Worcester. We passed the Teme, and -drove through Powick and Mather. The fields were fragrant -with the blossoms of the bean; the open road-side was garnished -with flowering furze; and the cottages stood forth, neat and -comfortable, amid embowering laburnums, and lilacs, and guelder-roses. -‘Ah, yes—I grant you, England is a beautiful country, -but you Englishmen don’t know how to enjoy it half as much as -your American cousins; not that we have not glorious scenery at -home, but that we have no such garden, as England seems to be, -from one sea to the other.’ So I said to my companion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We ascended the Malvern hills, on a brisk trot, by a good road -stretching along the face of the hills, and soon entered the smart -and showy town of Great Malvern itself, which overhangs the -charming vale of Gloucester, and affords a view of the winding -Severn, and many beautiful villages, churches, and seats. The -towers of several abbeys, with those of the cathedrals of Gloucester -and Worcester, adorn the prospect, and the distant ridge of the -Cotswolds completes the picture. The Abbey Church of Great -Malvern proved, of itself, sufficient to reward our visit to the -place, but my friend V——, found at one of the hotels, a party -of his friends enjoying a brief sojourn in this delightful retreat, -for the benefit of its air and springs—for “Ma’vern,” as everybody -knows, is a fashionable watering-place. Good reason have -I to remember the spot where I first met the amiable W——s, -to whose subsequent attentions I owed so much pleasure on my -northern tour; and I trust they too may be willing to remember -our holiday at Malvern. I was particularly gratified with the -adventurous spirit of the ladies, who insisted on doing us the -honours of the place, considering us as their guests. Under their -kindly guidance we climbed the hills, and visited the Holy Well, -and the well of St. Ann’s, and finally reached the summit of the -Malverns, where we gained a magnificent sight into Herefordshire, -and could see to the best advantage the nearer beauties of the -vale of the Severn. We walked along the ridge, pausing to rest -awhile, and to enjoy the scenery, near the Worcestershire beacon, -and so passing down on the Hereford side, and returning through -a gap called the Wych, we parted with our fair guides at Malvern -Wells, and taking a post-chaise started on a delightful drive -across the valley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a beautiful afternoon, and our route took us through a -great variety of country scenes. Now we skirted the base of the -Malverns; and now reached the picturesque Church of Little -Malvern; and now descended, amid overhanging trees, into the -valley of the Severn, partly darkened by the stretching shadow -of the hills, and partly glittering with reflections of the descending -sun. My friend V——, who seemed to have friends everywhere, -was so well acquainted with the neighbouring gentry, that -he was quite at liberty to enliven our drive, by leaving the high -road and crossing the park of this or that beautiful residence -which happened to lie in our way. Thus we gained fine views -of several elegant mansions and their surrounding grounds. At -the lodge of one of these parks, as we entered, I was struck with -a curious tree, called the peacock yew, from the showy <span class='it'>pavonazetto</span> -of its foliage: but the oddities of nature, after all, are far less attractive -than her ordinary beauties. At last we re-crossed the -Severn, and entered Tewksbury. It has been justly remarked -that this place appears to have stood still for five hundred years. -Its massive abbey, with its magnificent Anglo-Norman tower, -has the advantage therefore of standing in the company of contemporary -walls and roofs, instead of being an insulated lump of -Mediævalism, in a mass of nineteenth century brick and plaster. -I was wholly unprepared for so splendid a specimen of cathedral -architecture as this abbey proved to be; and when I entered the -sacred place, I was quite overwhelmed with its effect. It is of -great length, and the aisles are separated from the nave by a -series of immense Saxon pillars, which convey an idea of strength -and sombre dignity wholly different from the impressions produced -by the light and springing shafts of the perpendicular and -decorated Gothic. Its great window is a solitary example of -such vast and solemn combinations of proportion and detail; -its Norman arches being deeply recessed in the gigantic wall, -and its height commensurately sublime. While we surveyed this -stupendous interior, the rich shadows and faint illuminations -produced by the close of day, greatly heightened the impressiveness -of the architecture and the awful associations of this ancient -sanctuary and cemetery. It was indeed sublime to reflect that -under the shade of these walls was waged the last battle of -the House of Lancaster, and that the noble ashes of its heroes -were everywhere under foot, as we paced its aisles. We surveyed -one after another the tombs of Clarence, of Somerset, of Wenlock, -and De Clifford, moralizing on the Providence which reduced the -Norman blood of England just in the time and manner best suited -to give the Commons room to rise; and which laid these proud -patricians in the dust, that out of the dust might spring the freedom -and the power which now invest the world with Anglo-Saxon -glory. God only is wise—God only great! Issuing from a -small door in one of the aisles of the abbey, we entered a green -and peaceful meadow, to which the deepening twilight gave a -grave and rich effect, heightened not a little by the shadows of -the abbey towers, and by the croaking of rooks and daws among -the buttresses and pinnacles. Here was the fatal field where the -red-rose was smothered forever in red blood. “Lance to lance, -and horse to horse”—here its fated champions struck the last -blow for Margaret and her son. Here the young prince himself -asserted, face to face with usurping York, the rights which his -fathers had not less usurped from the fallen Plantagenet; and -here, for his boldness and for his fatal royalty, he fell beneath -the rapier, the last blood of Lancastrian majesty spouting from -his many wounds. Can it be, so green a field was ever so crimson? -It was impossible to conjure up the scenes of a period so -long gone by; and yet not less impossible to stand on such a -field, without some communion with the spirit of departed ages.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With a worthy clergyman of Tewksbury, we finally quenched -our enthusiasm in a cup of tea, and buried the swelling thoughts -of Margaret’s wrongs, under the juicy morsels of a mutton-chop. -As we sat at our repast, I observed that our reverend entertainer -had “a river at his garden’s-end.” “Yes,” was his reply—“the -Avon!” I had supposed it the Severn, of course; but when he -thus reminded us of its noble confluent, after our historical communion -with Shakspeare in the battle-field, all my enthusiasm -returned again, and, in spite of tea and mutton-chop, I felt a -thrill to find myself so near the river of the immortal Swan of -Stratford. Here, indeed, it finds its fitting union with the larger -waters, and runs with Severn to the sea. But now, it seemed to -me fragrant and vocal with a spirit caught from the banks of -Stratford churchyard, and its murmurs continually repeated the -lines—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,</p> -<p class='line0'> That stabbed me in the field, by Tewksbury.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>During my visit at Cheltenham, we contrived to spend a Sunday -in the country—and such a Sunday as should realize my -ideas of an English Sunday among a rural population. Early in -the morning we went to Bredon, and there surveyed its parish -Church, just opened for Divine service, and exhibiting a neat -interior, which, but for my growing familiarity with so many -superior examples, I should have considered very noteworthy. -In the floor of the nave is a plain slab covering the grave of -“Bishop Prideaux, 1650.” This Church, too, showed the hand -of the restorer, and had been much improved and beautified in -the spirit of what I suppose will be called the Victorian Restoration. -Leaving this Church, we started over the field for -Kemerton. It was a beautiful morning—what I am wont to -call a <span class='it'>George-Herbert-Sunday</span>; and as I went through the fragrant -meads and harvest lands, or turned into a shady lane, amid the -hawthorn hedges, I felt those quiet influences stealing over me -which are the sweetest preparation for enjoyment in the house -of God. By and by we descried above the foliage the tower -of Kemerton Church; and hard by was the parsonage, where that -estimable dignitary, the venerable Archdeacon Thorp, gave us a -most cordial welcome. Before service, my friend V—— called -me aside into the churchyard, and pointed to a little grave beautifully -decorated with fresh flowers. I understood at once that -it was the grave of a beloved child he had lately lost, and whose -transient but lovely life had shed a charm around these scenes -of its sweet and holy habitation, and endeared them to the hearts -of all who knew him. For a moment I entered into the sorrows -of a bereaved parent, and wept with one that wept.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The service in Kemerton Church is performed in some respects -very simply, in others, one might say, elaborately, for most of it -is sung. There is no organ, and the singers are plain farmers -and village-lads, yet they have places in the chancel, and wear -surplices, and sing with very agreeable effect. When Morning -Service was over, I proposed a quiet ramble through the fields, -with my friend, for my heart was quite full of the solemnities -of which the Holy Communion formed a part. As we were -about to leave, we observed the bell-ringers taking their stand -under the tower, which opened into the Church, with great reverence -and propriety in their behaviour. The Archdeacon informed -us that they were all worthy parishioners, who understood -the nature of the humblest office in the house of God, and -who rung the bells with a sense of serving the temple, and sounding -forth the glory of the Lord. When we had gone about a -quarter of a mile from the Church, we heard the bells ringing, -accordingly, and sweet music did they discourse. They seemed -indeed full of Sabbath blessing; full of peace and good will to -men. “This, dear V——,” said I, “This is enchanting, and -more, ’tis heavenly! Shall I ever forget this peaceful Sunday -noon in England?” As I looked around, all seemed, as the Gospel -would make the whole earth appear, if only sinful men would -let it; all blossomed as the rose. A church but a few rods in -one direction—and another less than a mile before us—and -many others near us, all around! All <span class='it'>churches</span> too—not so -many tokens of religious strife and schism, but each to its own -little nest of villagers, the centre of one faith, of one baptism, -and the worship of one Lord. Ah—here is the true glory of -England! Mile after mile, in some counties, seems to be marked -by church after church; each beautiful in its kind, the monument -of ancestral piety among its rural worshippers, and the -tutelary of their rude forefathers’ graves, that cluster beneath its -eaves. One wonders what a dissenter is made of, when he beholds -these rural churches, and their happy influence over a -rustic population. We extended our walk to Overbury Church, -an old Norman structure of small dimensions, beautifully restored, -and in perfect repair. The congregation had just withdrawn, -and the breath of prayer seemed lingering in the sanctuary. My -ramble was completed before the Evening Service began, and -certainly never saw I Sunday so liveried before, to celebrate the -holy tide. The hawthorn was everywhere in flower; butter-cups, -daisies, lilacs, cowslips, and every variety of contemporary blossom, -were to be seen in all the fields and cottage-gardens; and -the very sheep and cattle, resting in the shadow of the trees, -seemed to know it was the holy day. Where else, save in England, -is holy tide ever so entirely what holy tide should be?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Evening Prayer was divided, as in all the English cathedrals, -so that the sermon followed the second lesson. Then -came the Canticle, and the rest of the prayers. This arrangement -follows the original idea of <span class='it'>Catechising</span> at the Evening Prayer, and -has many advantages. I was privileged to be the preacher, and -I spake with a sincere appreciation of the duty, as a privilege -indeed. It appeared strange to me, when service was over, to -reflect that Kemerton Church is many hundred years old, and yet -that, in all probability, never had any one stood in its pulpit before, -who was not a subject of the English crown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the valuable acquaintances which I formed at Cheltenham, -I reckon myself fortunate in that of the Rev. Alexander -Watson, now of Marychurch, Devon, so well known by his -many publications in defence of Church doctrine, and in aid of -practical religion. It was in his company that I visited Gloucester, -and added to my stock of travelling experiences another -day of memorable enjoyment. After a pleasant breakfast party, -at his hospitable table, we started in a private carriage, for a -somewhat circuitous drive, to that “godly city;” passing Leckhampton, -under lee of the tallest peaks of the Cotswolds, and so -by Birdlip Wood, and Cooper’s Hill. Far away, on the other -side of the valley, a prominent headland was pointed out to me, -as May’s Hill. It is a not less conspicuous landmark from the -Severn, and once served to save from shipwreck a mariner, -named May, just returning from the sea; in consequence of -which, he planted its summit with a clump of trees, and made -provision for keeping them there perpetually. At a little distance -I descried a hamlet, and a Church, which my friend pointed out -to me as <span class='it'>Chozen</span>, at the same time informing me that it was spelt -<span class='it'>Churchdown</span>. This is but one of many amusing specimens of the -wide variance which often exists, between the spelling and pronouncing -of English proper names. At Shurdington we paused to visit -its pretty Church, surrounded by a shady field, and found it undergoing -entire restoration at the expense of the curate. Both -the restoration, and the munificence of its promoter, were the -rather interesting, as being no uncommon things. Such proofs -of life and godliness are everywhere encountered, at the present -day, in England. I found myself more and more delighted, as -we drove on, with the scenery, and often with the road itself, so -beautifully hedged and shaded, and affording so many points of -interest to an observing eye. Here was the tower of Badgworth -Church, and here was Brockworth. Churches everywhere—and -everywhere, upon the face of field and farm, the tokens of that -industry and thrift, of that order and decency, with which the -Church alone can ennoble the aspect of civilization. The same -charm which I had observed in the features of society, and which -I had traced to harmony in religion, appeared to me, here and -elsewhere, transferred in a great degree to the very soil, to its -culture, and to its embellishment. Nature itself seemed to have -borrowed a grace, and a glory, from the holy Faith, of which -such monuments were visible at every turn, in spires and towers -peering above the green trees, and gleaming amid the wide-spread -bounties of <span class='sc'>God</span>, whose adorable name they seemed to display as -the giver of all. As we slowly ascended the slope of Cooper’s -Hill, walking behind our carriage, and surveying the scene to -right and left, with reflections such as these, we heard a note from -the deep foliage of Birdlip Wood, which arrested us, and brought -to my mind many scraps of poetry, such as Logan’s, or Wordsworth’s—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>————shall I call thee bird,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or but a wandering voice?</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>It was the cuckoo! I had never heard it before, except in -wooden imitation from the perch of a German clock. I shall not -soon forget its effects, upon the still beauty of the hour and the -scene, as I heard it for the first time, in nature’s own sweet -modulations and heart-touching pathos.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hucklecot new Church we only sighted, but at Upton St. -Leonard’s we made a halt, and visited the Church, the parsonage, -and the school. The Church was a gem of its kind, with interesting -monuments and architectural objects, and had been freshly -restored. The schools were lately built by a munificent lady of -rank, and the parsonage was apparently new; the whole furnishing -another instance of what is going on, almost universally. -Passing Robinwood-hill on the left, as we continued our drive, -we soon entered Gloucester, of which the glorious cathedral -tower had long been the conspicuous object in our view.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here we visited the Church of St. Mary-de-Crypt, (lately restored) -where the admirers of Whitfield would chiefly think of -him, and where, perhaps, he ought to have been more thought of -by the Church, and so saved from the extravagances of his subsequent -career. We went also to see St. Michael’s and St. Mary-de-Lode, -(fresh restorations again) and finally visited the scene -of Bishop Hooper’s fiery martyrdom. The death of Hooper dignifies -the otherwise inglorious memory of a prelate who did not -a little to spoil his own work as a reformer, by tampering with -Geneva. And it is curious how much of puritanism he seems to -have bequeathed to his see; Glos’ter having been the proverbial -haunt of the “godlie” in Cromwell’s time, and having bred the -zealous evangelist, to whom I have already alluded as originally -illuminating with his enthusiasm, the cold interior of St. Mary-de-Crypt. -Strange, that after beginning here as a deacon of the -Church, he should now lie buried under a puritan pulpit in New -England, having completely revolutionized the Calvinism of our -own country, and entailed upon it the <span class='it'>Convulsionism</span> of which it -is now expiring. Had the zeal of Whitfield been according to his -knowledge, and had the dormant Hanoverian age, which produced -him, by the law of reaction, only known how to use him, he might -have left behind him some less equivocal fruits of missionary enterprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before speaking of the cathedral, I must allude to our visit to -Highnam, on the other side of the Severn. Here we found a -Church, lately erected entire, at a cost of £30,000, by a single -individual—nave, chancel, tower, and spire complete, and all -affording a model of ecclesiastical art, worthy of standing in the -neighbourhood of some of its noblest originals. To see a Victorian -Church, and one thus erected by private munificence, comparing -so favourably with some of the most admired specimens of -the middle ages, not only in general construction, but in the most -elaborate details, was indeed refreshing to the eye and to the -heart. The chancel and altar were especially noteworthy, -adorned as they were with the most delicate sculpture, in Caen -stone, and instinct with the life and beauty of a healthful symbolism. -Into the chancel opened a small sepulchral chapel, -which exceedingly interested my feelings, and warmed my admiration -of the whole. Two memorial windows were dedicated, each -to the remembrance of a departed child, and between them stood, -in a niche, the marble bust of their departed mother. Blessed -religion of Jesus, which makes the dead in Christ so dear, and -which so beautifies their memory: which so sanctifies the ties of -earth, and so triumphs over death, in its power to render them -eternal! Here was a family nest, indeed, hung upon the altar of -the Lord of Hosts! My eyes glistened as I read, beneath the lovely -effigy of the Christian wife and mother, an inscription to “Anna -Maria Isabella G—— P——; in fulfilment of whose pious purpose -this Church was erected to the glory of God, by her husband.” -Then followed the texts—including an allusion to the -children, as well as their mother—“And they shall be mine in -that day when I make up my jewels:”—“The Lord grant unto -them that they may find mercy of the Lord in that day.” I can -scarcely remember anything of the kind which ever more powerfully -touched the springs of Christian sympathy within me; those -sacred springs of the heart, which can never issue in their fullest -flow, till they have been fed by the hallowed love of the husband -and the father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Returning to the town, I devoted nearly the whole of the remainder -of the afternoon to the cathedral; accompanied most of -the time, by the friend to whom I had owed the pleasures of the -day, and to whom I at last bade a reluctant farewell. I had been -greatly benefited, not only by his intelligent conversation on indifferent -topics, but by his earnestness in those particularly, which -Christian priests should discuss most freely in each other’s company. -He left me to the kind attention of a worthy dignitary -of the cathedral, the Rev. Sir John S——, in the enjoyment of -whose polite hospitalities I spent the evening of this charming -day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The exterior of the cathedral, as seen from every point of -vantage, in neighbouring gardens, or from the solemn seclusion of -the surrounding precincts, was not less striking, in its way, than -that of any similar structure I had yet beheld; but the internal -survey was more impressive, by far, than that of any other, except -Westminster Abbey. It is one of the largest of its class of -buildings, and in its different portions, presents an epitome of -pointed art, in its several stages of progress through a period of -five hundred years. Here is the Anglo-Norman nave, with -massive columns, like those of Tewksbury; then comes the choir, -with its rich and delicate elaborations; and then the Lady-Chapel, -which is a little paradise of architecture. The solid crypts beneath, -dating from the tenth century, present a singular instance -of groining, in their square and solid ribs, entirely unadorned; -while the cloisters, in the style of the fifteenth century, seem to -have exhausted the skill of the architect, in the exceeding richness -of their tracery, and pendant vaulting. The very defects -of the building seem to have contributed to its graces, for when -I had admired the aerial effect of a slender arch, springing -athwart the transepts and attaching itself to the roof, as if its -solid stone were a mere hanging festoon, I was told that this was, -in fact, a blemish, and had been introduced into the original plan, -only to strengthen the walls. I went into the triforia, and tried -the whispering-gallery, but had no time to amuse myself with -such small experiments, amid so many incentives to a higher employment -of my opportunities. I am sorry that the marvellous -beauty of the Lady-Chapel still demands the hand of a restorer. -The “godly” Cromwellians have left the traces of their hammers -on all its carved work, and it is sadly despoiled. Would that -the same skill and taste which reared the Church at Highnam -might be permitted to make this holy place worthy of an English -cathedral! That the English people still suffer these mother-churches -of the nation to remain as too many of them are, is one -of their greatest national disgraces. When they are restored as -they might be, and managed as they should be, then, and not till -then, must they command the unmingled admiration and delight -of every intelligent visitor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a thorough inspection of the cathedral, in the broad -light of day, I was kindly invited by Sir John to visit it again, -as the day was about to close. We entered, by his private key, -and were alone in the vast and awful interior. Going into -the nave, he said to me, as I paused to observe the solemn -perspective—“Whose bones, do you suppose, are now beneath -your feet?” I stepped aside, as he added, “You are standing on -the grave of Bishop Warburton.” So much wit and genius in -the dust! Yet in what nobler sepulchre could earth to earth be -delivered, to await the resurrection? Hard by, are the monuments -of two of the world’s benefactors; that of Jenner, who -poured water upon the flame of the noisome pestilence, and that -of Raikes, who first “gathered the children” into Sunday Schools. -There is another modern monument, deserving of mention, as -one of that purely Anglican type, which tends to <span class='it'>divinify</span> domestic -love, and the holy relations of the wife and mother. A female -figure, with a babe, appear in the radiant marble, invited -by angels into Paradise, from the waves of the sea. It is from -the pure chisel of Flaxman, and commemorates one who died in -the perils of childbirth, while encompassed by the perils of the -great deep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Less pleasing, yet even more impressive, was the quaint effigy, -in old carved oak, of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed -Curthose. You touch it and it moves, and you involuntarily -start. It is, of course, very light, and lies upon the tomb so loosely -that it is easily disturbed; and then, it seems as if the old -Norman were about to rise and confront you, as an audacious -intruder upon his repose. But how shall I describe the effect of -the marble effigy of poor King Edward the Second, as I saw it, -in the solemn twilight, and in the unbroken silence of the deserted -cathedral? There was that outstretched figure, and that sad -outline of a face composed in death, and hands clasped in resignation; -but its dread appearance was as if imploring <span class='sc'>God</span>, against -the cruel murderers who had done him such awful violence. I -thought of Gray’s sketchy but descriptive lyric, and muttered to -myself:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Those shrieks of death through Berkeley’s roofs that ring;</p> -<p class='line0'> Shrieks of an agonizing king.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The neighbouring peasant woke at the outcry of the tortured -sufferer, and crossed himself; for he suspected what the devil -was doing in the castle. Here now lies the victim of that horrid -regicide, but there is something in the sculpture of his visage, -that reminds the visitor, that “God shall bring to light the hidden -things of darkness.” This powerful impression lingered with me, -as I paced the cloisters, and revived, when at a late hour of the -night I was awakened by the chimes of the cathedral clock -charming the darkness with a solemn tune, and lifting the -thoughts of the listener to communion with his God.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXX'></a>CHAPTER XX.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>The Court of St. James.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Who knows not by heart the face of the Royal Palace of -St. James? That such a house should have been a Palace in the -days of Wolsey, seems strange enough to one who has seen at -Oxford what even a college was, in Wolsey’s conception: but -that it should still be a Palace, when Pall Mall and St. <a id='james1'></a>James’s-street -are full of club-houses, that would scarcely take any part -of it for a kitchen, with the condition of setting it on their own -ground—this seems stranger still. Yet a Palace may it long -continue; for not until the government of England shall be that -of some revolutionary <span class='it'>parvenu</span>, will it cease to be a speaking -symbol of the genuine dignity of the British Crown! The -Queen of England can afford to hold her Court in an old, worn-out -mansion, and to let the opulence of her subjects erect the -most striking contrast at its side. Build as they may—St. James -is not cast into the shade: it is historical and royal. There are -few illustrations to be found more <span class='it'>à propos</span> to the superiority of -a mental over a physical grandeur.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In returning to London from my Glo’stershire excursion, one -of my purposes was to be presented at Court; a gratification -which I had been advised to allow myself, and which the American -Minister had politely proffered me. An experienced courtier -supplied me with the necessary hints as to dress, and the etiquette -of the Court; and accordingly, on a levee day, I was duly presented, -as preparatory to going to Court, on the more splendid -occasion of a drawing-room. The presentation of gentlemen -always takes place at a levee, and no one of the male sex can -attend a drawing-room who has not been previously presented. -Ladies do not attend levees at all, and consequently a levee is a -very dull affair, when compared with the brilliant spectacle -which they make of a drawing-room, not less by their beauty, -than by the glitter of their diamonds, and the flaunting of their -trains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As a clergyman, I was freed from any great burden of expense -in the matter of costume, canonicals being the proper dress for -one of the priestly function, and my ordinary suit of robes being -in very good condition. A pair of enormous shoe-buckles was -almost the only additional item to be thought of; and an Oxford -cap was pronounced by my kind adviser, Sir John S——, quite -as proper as the absurd little apology for a three-cornered hat, -(tucked under the arm,) which is considered the more exquisite -finish to the clerical exterior, on such occasions. My next concern -was to furnish myself with a Brougham, (or chariotee,) and -with a driver wearing a sort of livery; hackney-coaches not being -sufferable within the precincts of the Palace. A couple of -cards, of unusual magnitude, one of which bore the name of my -presenter, with my own, was the last requisite; and thus munimented, -I had only to fall into the line of aristocratic equipages, -sweeping down St. <a id='james2'></a>James’s-street, and to await my turn for alighting -at the doors of the Palace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How different the scene in Hogarth’s day, when they went to -Court in sedan-chairs, and when the “Rake, arrested for debt,” -(as <a id='por'></a>portrayed in his dramatic colours,) was the very ideal of a -courtier. Yet there stands the old Palace, precisely as it figures -in that graphic picture, and here are the successors of the characters -who fill up its back-ground, if not those of the hero himself! -Such were my reflections as I found myself moving, very leisurely, -in the procession of wheels, along the splendid street, amid -crowds of gaping spectators, kept at respectful distance by the -heels of the horses of the mounted guards, and by the vigorous -exertions of the police. My further reflections were not of a -very self-sufficient sort; for who could be very much elated at -finding himself cutting so little of a figure, and, in fact, making -an absolute blemish, in such a pageant? Yet, I had no occasion -to be ashamed, as I felt that my hired brougham was as -much the thing for my republican self-respect, as the gilded -coaches and gorgeous liveries before me and behind me were for -titled lords and ladies. In fact, if I could not be vain, I was not -without a little Johnsonian pride, in the entire consistency and -reality of my turn-out. Hired court-dresses, and swords, and -buckles, have been not unheard-of things for an appearance at -Court. I was at least habited in no borrowed plumes, and was -going in the same vestments which I had often worn in my pulpit, -to be presented by the representative of my own Government, -as a plain American parish-priest. As for my hired -brougham, it was countenanced by so many of its own kind, that -its humble appearance occasioned no surprise even among the -staring crowd, it being quite usual for professional gentlemen to -use such an equipage. But the carriages of the nobility, in -general, are truly superb: that is to say—if they are not ridiculous. -They look, for all the world, (with their gilding, emblazonings -and trappings, their powdered coachmen, and footmen holding -on behind, three in a row, with staves and cocked hats,) like -the carriage of Cinderella in the nursery-book. And indeed, on -a drawing-room day, the fair creatures within, in their ostrich-plumes, -and lace, and diamonds, as revealed to vulgar eyes -through the glass-windows, often seem to realize the fabulous -beauty of Cinderella herself with their dazzling complexions and -delicate airs. Not alone the vulgar, however, but many of the -personal friends of the fair parties are viewing them, all the time, -from the neighbouring balconies and shop-fronts. The levee attracts -less of a crowd, and yet there was crowd enough, and very -stupid was my approach to Pall-Mall. There—you wait till -called in your turn, and meanwhile have time to look at the -mounted trumpeters, pursuivants, and guards, in liveries of scarlet -and gold, drawn up before the gates. At last, setting forward, -you enter the court-yard, with as much of a flourish as your -whip can make for you, and alight at the door of the Palace, -making your way, first along a corridor, and then slowly up a -grand stair-case, to the suite of apartments opened for the occasion. -As you enter these apartments, you throw your card into -a basket, and pass on amid files of yeomen of the guard, wearing -the Tudor livery, and holding their halberds, and looking like old -statues of wood or stone, or rather like the wax figures in a -museum. When the time comes for you to enter the royal presence, -you are met at the door of the throne-room by a gentleman -in waiting, to whom you deliver your second card, that you -may be properly announced. This card is handed to another -official, and you are ushered through a file of ladies of honour -towards her Majesty, who stands beneath a canopy, with Prince -Albert at her side, the centre of the brilliant circle, and (as I am -glad to say) making a truly royal appearance. Here your name -is called out, and that of the party who presents you, and then—an -American simply advances and bows to the Queen, repeats the -salaam to her princely consort, and so retires backwards, not -turning his heel upon the royal presence. A British subject goes -through the more formidable ceremony of falling on one knee, -and kissing the royal hand. Now it so happened that her -Majesty—owing no doubt to my attire, which was the same as -that of her own clerical subjects—evidently mistook me for one; -and my gallantry was in consequence sorely put to the test,—for, -advancing with great dignity, the Queen was just proffering her -hand, and I was beginning to balance between the republicanism -of my knee, and the courtesy of my heart, when the anxious official -promptly repeated the form—“presented by the <span class='it'>American</span> Minister.” -Of course her Majesty took the hint, and most gracefully withdrew, -with a courteous recognition and a pleasant smile, while I -finished my democratic homage with as much self-possession as -was in my power, repeated my obeisance to Prince Albert, and -bowed myself backward through the gorgeously apparelled circle -of <span class='it'>diplomats</span>, making my especial respects to our own Minister, -and so retiring into the adjoining apartment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On this occasion the Queen’s appearance impressed me, in all respects, -more favorably than I had expected; but, on the other hand, -Prince Albert struck me as less princely, and less intelligent, than -I had supposed him to appear. A lady would here interpose -with the question as to her Majesty’s dress, and I must allow that, -from my own observation, I could not speak with certainty on -that important subject, but the <span class='it'>Times</span> next morning asserted it to -have been—“a train of white watered silk, <span class='it'>chenée</span> with gold, and -green and silver, trimmed with tulle and white satin ribands, and -ornamented with diamonds; and a petticoat of white satin and -tulle, with satin ribands to correspond; and a head-dress of -emeralds and diamonds.” The Duchess of Sutherland and Lady -Jocelyn were conspicuous among the ladies in attendance, and -Prince Albert was attended by Lord George <a id='lenn'></a>Lennox, with his -groom and his equerry. It would have been a very magnificent -spectacle, had not the small and stifled appearance of the throne-room -given a cramped look to the royal party, and detracted from -the majesty which always requires “ample room and verge” for -its full effect on the imagination.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The drawing-room was held in honour of the Queen’s birthday, -about a week later. I could now go freely, without the ceremony -of a presentation, merely depositing my card in the basket, from -which, I suppose, the Times reports of attendants at the Palace are -made up. In approaching St. James, everything was as before, -save that the crowd was greater, and the carriages conveying -ladies of rank more superb. On alighting, and entering the corridor, -I was enchanted by the display of splendour and beauty -which filled it, and in which there was everything but order to -make it all that one could imagine of a courtly pageant. Brilliant -indeed; but such a jam! The crowd was a perfumed and -dazzling one; but not less a crowd than one in the streets. Here -were peers and peeresses of every rank, and the daughters of -peers, and new brides, and many a young beauty coming for the -first time, and trembling with excitement, yet bewildered with -delight. There is no denying the striking beauty of many of -these high-born damsels; their complexions were lily-and-rose, -and health was as generally characteristic of their appearance as -beauty. I observed the trepidation of some of them, as their -finery was subjected to the pressure of the patrician throng, and -as they gathered their trains over the ivory arm, evidently thinking -anxiously of the critical moment when they must allow it to -flaunt gracefully, and catch it up not less so, in the presence of -their Sovereign. No doubt all had been practised for weeks -beforehand, till each was an adept, in the eyes of waiting-maids -and mammas. Mingled with these gay creatures were grave -judges in their wigs, and fierce-looking officers in their uniforms, -and wild-looking Highland chieftains, bare-legged, but plaided -and plumed, and making a showy figure in their clan-tartans. -One of the yeomen-of-the-guard remarked, in my hearing, as I -passed, that this was the greatest attendance at Court he had -ever known. The Crystal Palace had filled the town, and there -were many foreigners. I saw some Persian and other Oriental -costumes in the throng; and, on the whole, the poorest figures -were those in the ordinary gentleman’s court suit, with the -cocked-hat, and hair-powder of the last century. This style of -dress seemed to be avoided as far as possible, military uniforms -predominating. In mounting the great stair-case, if our progress -was slow, there was everything to relieve its tediousness. The -ascending rows of glittering uniforms and fine female figures were -a study in themselves. I observed the lovely Lady ——, whom -I had met a few hours before, at a breakfast, and was amused -with the entire change of her appearance which those few hours -had made. Lord Lyttleton, who had been at the same breakfast -party, now appeared in a military suit. Quite a number of the -clergy were interspersed among the fair and brave; and as a -polite young officer offered me precedence, and cautioned me to -beware of his spurs, he whispered—“<span class='it'>Cedant arma togæ</span> is about -all the Latin I retain.” Gaining a landing on the stair-case, we -were next amused by observing the great personages descending -by a corresponding stair-case, from the royal presence. A servant -called for the carriage of each party, as they successively -appeared, and so one always knew who was coming. At last -came a great man whom all knew without any help, as he tottered -down, dressed in his Field-Marshal’s uniform, of which the gay -decorations strangely contrasted with his white head and bowed -shoulders. As I watched the old hero descending, step by step, -I could not but think of the lower descent he must soon make -into the dust, and oh! what a moral was furnished, at that moment, -by the glittering honours he wore upon his breast. Dukes, -earls, and cabinet ministers, and several ambassadors, with wives -and daughters, came following each other in splendid succession, -till at last I gained the ante-chamber, and had something else to -look at. Here I could move more freely, and renew my impressions -of the Palace. Several persons whom I had met elsewhere -were so polite as to join me, and to enter into conversation, which -very pleasantly beguiled the time. The exits and entrances were -in themselves enough to amuse and fill up one’s time. Almost -every variety of official decoration and costume, known to heralds -and antiquarians, seemed to be worn by somebody, and amongst -the comers and goers were some distinguished individuals in arts -and arms. In this room were one or two of Lely’s pictures, and -among them, if I remember rightly, that of Catharine of Braganza. -Queen Anne also looked on us, from the walls, and her -Majesty’s odious old great-great-grandfather, George the Second. -As I fell into the line which moved toward the throne-room, I -came to a window looking over the park and private garden of -the Palace. Oh! what tales of Caroline, and Hanoverian, gossip -and scandal, the sight recalled. There was her Majesty’s -state carriage, awaiting the conclusion of the ceremonies, to convey -her back to Buckingham Palace. The squab of a driver -was sleeping on his box—a mere mortal in spite of his livery, his -hair-powder, and the nosegay in his bosom. In my turn, I passed -before her Majesty, much as before. I hardly saw, in full, the -ceremony of a female presentation, although there were several -just before and after me, for the crowd was intolerable, and my -escape from the presence of royalty into the freer apartments beyond, -was truly refreshing. I passed into an armory, or room -ornamented with such old weapons and defences as one sees at -the Tower. Finally, as before, I left the Palace through a long -corridor, ornamented with portraits of the Kings of England, -down to Charles the First. This portrait reminded me of the -last night on earth of that sovereign, which he passed beneath -this roof: and of the last sacrament which he received, in the -chapel of St. James. This is the most sacred association with -the Old Palace, and it is the only one that is enough sacred, to -sink the ill memories of its Georgian traditions. The English -underestimate Charles the First, and do not seem to reflect that -many of those elements of their Constitution, on which they are -most wont to value themselves, have been bequeathed to them by -the spirit in which he maintained the royalty, and suffered for the -Church. If the brutal Cromwell is remembered with commendation, -because of some liberties which were the secondary results -of his usurpation, why should not the failings of Charles be forgotten, -in gratitude for the great conservative principles which he -taught the English people, by the signal ability with which he -baulked his adversaries in debate, and by his truly sublime behaviour -in the last stages of his reign? Say what they will, -thought I, as I looked at his portrait—had Charles the First been -a Louis the Sixteenth, I should not, to-day, have seen a descendant -of Alfred on the Throne of Great Britain.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Harrow—Coventry—Warwickshire.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went into the country on Ascension Day to keep the feast, -at an interesting place in the neighbourhood of Harrow. As I -was rushing at the last minute to gain a seat in the railway train, -I saw a hand beckoning me from one of the carriages, and so -took my seat beside the Bishop of Oxford. He was going to -spend the day at the same place, a fact of which I had not the -least idea beforehand, but which, of course, greatly heightened my -anticipations of pleasure, on making the discovery. Arrived, the -Bishop was received by the Rev. Mr. ——, and I was kindly -invited to accompany him to breakfast, after a brief survey of -the attractions of the place. First, we went with our reverend -host to see a sort of training school, in which he was giving some -young men of limited means all the substantial parts of a University -education. We went into their chapel, and joined in the -devotions with which they began their day. We were then conducted -through the establishment connected with which was a -printing press, worked by the pupils, and a chemical laboratory, in -which they were producing stained glass for the chapel. In the -garden I saw a novelty in the horticultural art, which struck me -as not unworthy of imitation. A small piece of ground had been -ingeniously shaped into a miniature Switzerland. Here, for -example, was the Righi, with a corresponding depression for the -Lake of the Four Cantons. A bucket of water poured into such a -depression, makes the little scene into an artificial reality, serving -to convey a geographical idea much more forcibly than any map -could possibly do. From this college we went to an “Agricultural -School,” where some plain farmer’s boys, in their working -attire, were gathered to prayers before engaging in the labour of -the day. A certain amount of education is furnished to these -lads, in return for their toil, and they pay some fees beside; the -plan proposing to elevate this class of the peasantry, especially in -morals and religious knowledge. Thence, we went to the parish-schools -which were also opened by prayer; and then the children -were catechised, in the presence of the Bishop. After this we -adjourned to breakfast, and then went to the Church; a very plain, -but substantial and architectural one, lately substituted for its -dilapidated predecessor. The Bishop preached, entirely extemporaneously, -having been pressed into the service against his -intentions. As he eloquently exhorted us to follow our ascended -Lord, I could not but think how entirely different from the ordinary -American notion of an English Bishop, in labors and in -spirit, was this estimable prelate. The <span class='sc'>Holy Communion</span> followed, -and there was a large number of devout partakers, representing -all classes of society. I was glad to see, for example, -some plain farmers, in their frocks, and two of the railway-guards, -in their liveries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While walking through the lanes, with the Bishop and this -laborious pastor, a little boy ran up to us with oak-leaves, and a -branch containing oak-apples. It was the 29th of May; and the -Bishop playfully asked the lad why he carried them. “To -remember King Charles,” said the little fellow—as he further -enforced the sale of these memorials of the Restoration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the residue of the day, I shared the labours of the -pastor, as he went about the parish, visiting here a sick person, -and there a poor one; and, towards evening, returning to the -grounds of the training school, I joined in a game of cricket, -which the young men were playing in high glee. Chasing the -ball as it bounded over the field, or hid itself in the hedge; -scratching my hands with nettles, and joining in the shouts of -frolic, with these happy youths; and finally sitting at my leisure -to watch the beautiful evening sky, against which stood out the -graceful spire and foliage of Harrow-on-the-Hill, while the neighbouring -bells of Stanmore pealed a sunset song, I could not but -murmur to myself, with Gray—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“I feel the gales that from ye blow,</p> -<p class='line0'> A momentary bliss bestow,</p> -<p class='line0'>   As, waving fresh their gladsome wing,</p> -<p class='line0'> My weary soul they seem to soothe,</p> -<p class='line0'> And, redolent of joy and youth,</p> -<p class='line0'>   To breathe a second spring.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>In rambling about, we had a good view of the former residence -of Queen Adelaide, in which she had lately died. She was much -beloved and respected for her unaffected piety, and her manifold -good works.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the twilight we went to church again. The service was -sung to a very pleasing chant, in which all joined with heart, -and then the pastor entered the pulpit, and preached, extemporaneously, -on the text, “<span class='it'>It is expedient for you that I go away.</span>” The -sermon was an allegory, of exceeding beauty, perfectly sustained -throughout, and that, to all appearance, without effort. I shall -never forget it, nor the powerful impression it produced at the -time. I have, since, quoted it entire, in my own pulpit, (with -full credit to the source from which it was derived,) and was -happy to observe the effect it was capable of producing, even at -second hand. I left the scene of this pleasing day’s experiences, -with a sweet elevation of feeling, inspired by the solemnities in -which I had engaged, and by the sermons which I had been so -fortunate as to hear. Oh! lovely Church of England, how little -they know thee who revile thee! how unworthy of their baptism -are they who have cast themselves from thy motherly bosom!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My next excursion was into Warwickshire. I went first to -Coventry, a city of which one of my humble ancestry was Mayor, -more than two centuries ago, and for which I entertained a sort -of hereditary respect. It retains much of the aspect it must have -borne during that worthy’s incumbency; for a more mediæval-looking -town I saw not in England. Still unmodernized are its -ancient streets and alleys. The houses jut out, story above story, -their gables fronting the way, and so close together, in the upper -parts, that neighbours may light their pipes with each other across -the street, as they lean out of their windows. The famous three -spires of Coventry belong to as many different churches, but seem -to equalize the place in cathedral glories with Lichfield, its sister -see. The spire of St. Michael’s, which is chief among them, is, -indeed, singularly beautiful: and the triplet is well harmonized, -and gives the town a majestic appearance as one approaches it. -A town of many spires, in America, is generally a town of many -wrangling creeds; and the major part of the steeples are but vulgar -rivals, realizing the droll idea of Carlyle’s eel-pot, in which -each individual eel is trying to get his head higher than his neighbour’s. -The fact, however, is less droll than melancholy, when one -thinks of the sickening results, upon a community, of so many -religions, all claiming to be reputable types of Christ’s dear Gospel, -although so widely differing among themselves that some -must necessarily be its pestilent antagonists. Dissocial habits; -cold incivilities; open wars; disgraceful rivalries; bickering animosities; -and a degraded moral sentiment—these are the things -signified by your poly-steepled towns in our own land, and God -only knows the irreligion and the contempt for truth, which are -festering within them, as the result of these acrid humours; but as -yet, it is not generally so in England. The three spires of Coventry -all point faithfully to the throne of the Triune God, and are -symbols of one Lord, one faith, and one baptism. Oh, that all -who dwell under their shadow knew the blessings of their ministrations, -and received them in spirit and in truth!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The melodious bells of St. Michael’s rung, as I lingered about -its venerable walls; but the interior was undergoing a costly -restoration, and was so obstructed with scaffolding, that I could -catch but little of the effect of its solemn length of nave and -chancel, and of the intersecting arches of its aisles. I afterwards -visited Trinity; and also the ancient St. Mary’s Hall, the scene -of the civic pomps of Coventry, and filled with antiquarian interest -in itself and in its contents. It was not difficult to conjure up -the ancient shows of the adjoining church-yard when Holy Week -was celebrated by dramatic mysteries. But what interested me -more than all the rest, was the grotesque head of a mediæval -clown, projecting from an old house, with a most striking expression -of vulgarly impertinent curiosity. The reader of Tennyson’s -exquisite <span class='it'>chef d’œuvre</span>, will, of course, recognise “Peeping Tom” in -this description. Fabulous may be that beautiful legend of the -Lady Godiva, but the men of Coventry believe it still: and still, -on every Friday in the week of Holy Trinity, its annual fair is -opened with a commemorative procession, in which a fair boy, -dressed in well-knit hosiery, but apparently naked, rides through -the ancient streets, with long and golden hair flowing from head -to foot, and covering his body, as the representative of the sweet -bride of Earl Leofric, who made the burghers of Coventry toll-free, -and “gained herself an everlasting name.” They were -making great preparations for this pageant when I was there, but -on the whole I preferred not “to march through Coventry with -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From Coventry to Kenilworth, of course. It was late in the -afternoon when I started the rooks in those old ruins, and sat -down to watch their flight about its ivied towers. Here was, -indeed, a place for thought, and for sentimentalism. How the -romance of Scott, that once so bewitched me, (as I read it, -stretched in boyish luxury upon the floor of the verandah of an -American villa, on the dear banks of the Hudson,) now rose about -me in a strange dream of reality; and how tormenting the -endeavour to separate the true history from the charming fable! -Here the finely wrought Gothic masonry, and delicate mouldings, -and deeply recessed windows of the great banqueting-room, stand -without a roof; and the ivy that climbs the solid walls, and twists -among the shattered mullions and transoms, is rooted inside of -the once hospitable hall, and beneath the very point in space, -where once the haughty Queen Elizabeth sat in state, on a splendid -dais, with Burleigh, and Leicester, and Raleigh around her, -while these cold, damp walls lifted about them their magnificent -tapestries, and gorgeous blazonries of heraldic honour. In that -bay window she once reclined, to look over the park, and to think -thoughts too deep for utterance. The rich architectural work of -these chambers betrays their former splendid uses; and one -grudges, to the great serpent-like convolutions of the ivy-vines, -the sole proprietorship of their surviving graces. Yet there they -hang their melancholy leaves; and the beautiful desolation is possibly -rich enough in its moral effect on the heart of the visitor, to -make one contented on the whole, that the pile was once so great -in design, and so exquisite in detail, and that the ruin is now so -complete. Poor Amy Robsart!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up and down I went, thinking only of her wrongs. Now the -worn steps wound up to a turret, and now descended to a secret -postern. Here was the orchard, and there the lake, and there -the plaisance: now you look out of a prison-like window, and -now you stand in the deep recess of a lordly oriel. Going into -the ancient grounds, I scattered a hundred sheep, and away they -went, bounding over grass as green and velvety, as they were -white and fleecy. These are the successors of those red deer, fallow -deer, and roes, which once stored the chase. The “swifts” -darted from bush to bush, and the thrushes fluttered in the hawthorn; -and then all was as still as if the past hung over the -place like a spell, and as if it were haunted with its own history. -Of all this noble castle, there remains only one outer part, which -can shelter a human inhabitant. The barbican, beneath which -Elizabeth must have made that superb entrance, is still a dwelling; -but its occupant is a plain farmer, who would, no doubt, -prefer to be more snugly housed. It seemed strange to find such -a picturesque abode devoted to so homely a use. How glad I -should be to hire it, myself, for a summer lodge, provided I might -have the range of the surrounding domains, without the annoyance -of everybody’s intrusion, and provided I had nothing better -to do than to read romances and history!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here this farmer lives, in a room of panelled oaken wainscot, -enclosed by walls that might defy artillery. The chimney-piece -is a massive bit of antiquity, partly alabaster curiously wrought, -and partly wood of rich and costly carving. The ragged-staff of -Dudley is conspicuous, in the decorations; it betrays the relics of -its former gilding; the speaking initials R. L. tell the story of -its origin, and the motto <span class='it'>Droit et Loyal</span> shows itself, as if in -mockery of historical justice, amid the arms and cognizances of -the once proud possessor of the princely castle of Kenilworth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The long twilight enabled me to visit Leamington Priors, and -to get a very pleasing impression of its trim and fair abodes, and -showy modern streets. Then away, by night, to Warwick, where -I slept at the “Warwick Arms,” after such a comfortable supper, -as one finds nowhere, at the close of a traveller’s day, except -at an English Inn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It proved a most beautiful morning, next day, and I was up -very early, resolved, before tasting breakfast, to taste all the -sweets of the hour of prime, in one of the most beautiful rural -districts of England. I walked out some two or three miles, on -the Kenilworth road, to Guy’s Cliff, and to the scene, beyond it, -of Piers Gaveson’s murder. The beauty of the day and of the -Scenery, the song of birds, and the blossoms of the hawthorn -along the road, were singularly in keeping with the imagery by -which the poet has pictured the early history of a reign, strikingly -coincident with that in which Gaveson’s fortune was made -and ruined:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,</p> -<p class='line0'>   While proudly riding o’er the azure realm,</p> -<p class='line0'> In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,</p> -<p class='line0'>   Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>At length, leaping a slight fence, I made my way through a -clovered field, and then through a pretty grove, to what was -once Blacklow hill. Here is still a sort of cave, which I readily -found among the hazels; and on the eminence above it, rises a -strongly built and severe looking monument, surmounted by a -cross of solid proportions, the whole singularly adapted to the -place and purpose. It is a work of late years, and the happy -thought of the proprietor of Guy’s Cliff. There was something -stirring, too, in reading, in the loneliness of that morning hour, -the following inscription on the face of the monument, viz:—“<span class='it'>In -the hollow of this rock was beheaded, July 1, 1312, by barons lawless -as himself, Piers Gaveson, Earl of Cornewall, the minion of a hateful -king, and in life and death a memorable instance of misrule.</span>” What -a picture of the ferocious past was conjured up by that expression—“beheaded -by barons as lawless as himself.” The sweet -Avon was flowing through the meads below; there gleamed the -feudal towers of Warwick, in the glowing sunrise; and just so it -was, that July morning, five hundred years ago, when this rock -rang with oaths and curses, the barkings of that fierce Guy de -Beauchamp, whom Gaveson had called “the black hound of -Arden.” That insult was here avenged in blood; but it only -served to fire the thirst of the regicide. Those features upturned to -heaven, in the choir of Gloucester, and those imploring hands of -poor King Edward, came back, in thought, once more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Pictures have made my readers familiar with the scenery of -Guy’s Cliff. There it stands, on the Avon—in unpretending -beauty, ivied up to its chimnies, here an oriel, and there a turret, -the very ideal of a fair lady’s bower, and one of the goodliest of -“the merry homes of England.” There is a mill over against it, -where I stood and admired its quiet romance, in the glory of that -summer morning, as the gilding of the sunlight lay on the cold -gray of its towers. At the mill, the farmer-lads were washing -sheep, and as they plunged in the fleecy ewes, and soused them -over and over again, in the sparkling waters of the Avon, I -thought an artist would ask no fairer study, for his pencil, than -the scene before me. I confess I could not safely look on it without -repeating the <span class='it'>Tenth Commandment</span>, and I quite deposed my -project of renting the Gate-house of Kenilworth, in thinking how -much better I should like Guy’s Cliff for my habitation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My walk into Warwick, again, was full of pleasure. I heard -the clock strike in the tower of St. Mary’s, which I saw over -a forest of trees, gaily lighted by the sun; and then came a tune -from its chime. I paused before old houses, and stared at -the curious ancient gateway, under which we had passed in -the night. After breakfast I visited the Church, and especially -the Beauchamp Chapel, where the ancient lords of Warwick -lie on their proud tombs, in sculptured mail, beside their dainty -dames, in more delicate attire. This chapel is, of its kind, the -finest in the kingdom; the superb tomb of Charles the Bold and -Mary of Burgundy, when I saw it at Bruges, reminded me of it, -and seemed less imperial. I cannot now recall it in detail, as I -wish I could, for the sake of accurate criticism; but at the time -I was greatly struck with the state and splendour of such <span class='it'>beauty—for -ashes</span>! Fulke Greville’s monument is also memorable, if -only for the striking tribute it pays to private friendship; for the -inscription furnished by himself ekes out the fact of his being -“Councillor to King James,” by that of his claim to write himself—“The -friend of Sir Philip Sydney.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went over Warwick Castle, of course, and surveyed the -grounds from the porter’s lodge, where are shown the armour and -the porridge-pot of great Guy, and fair Phælice’s slippers, to the -garden-house, wherein is kept the gigantic vase from Tivoli. -What eyes for natural beauty had those builders of old times! -The Avon seems just here to be made for Warwick Castle, and -Warwick Castle seems made for it. On the whole, I have seen -no residence in Europe, save Windsor Castle, that seemed to me -more princely than this. ’Tis not the creation of vulgar opulence, -or of an Aladdin-like fortune—but it seems the growth of ages, -and the natural concentration of architectural beauty and strength. -From its windows such a view of the landscape—in the landscape -such views of it! And then its relics and antiquities; its pictures -and its portraits; its bed-rooms, and halls, and drawing-rooms; -its boudoirs, and its bowers; its chapel, and its whole together—who -can but wonder at them, and who would want them? -Mine is not so vast an ambition—such “an unbounded stomach.” -On the whole I am so reasonable a man, that to gratify my -utmost longings for a home—this side “the house not made with -hands”—I would take Guy’s Cliff, and leave Warwick Castle -untroubled by any writ of ejectment from even a roving wish, or -wild, ungoverned thought.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Stratford—Shakspeare.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Only nine miles to Stratford-upon-Avon! With what a flush -of delighted expectation I climbed the coach, and left the Warwick -Arms, in the hope of beholding with my eyes, in less than -two short hours, the home of Shakspeare, and that world-famous -church to which he bequeathed his bones! And yet there was -something like a misgiving at the heart. My imagination had -been familiar, for years, with a certain ideal of Stratford, that -had grown into my whole structure of thought concerning -Shakspeare and his times. It had been constructed from here a -print, and there a traveller’s tale, and had taken life and beauty -from detached anecdotes, and little inklings of historic light, that -had come sweetly to me from my boyhood, in some inexplicable -manner. In part the product of enthusiastic study, when college -oil, that should have been burned in honour of Euclid, and Napier, -and Newton, was stealthily sacrificed at the shrine of the great -master of the human heart, I had possessed for years, a Stratford -of my own; a pet village of my soul, such as Shakspeare should -have lived in: and now—in a few hours, all this was to be deposed -forever; dull realities were to eclipse the brilliant picture -of the fancy, and thenceforth I must know only the Stratford -of fact. Would the realization pay me for the downfall of -the vision? Alas! what is life but a continual balance between -loss and gain; what pleasure do we acquire, without the sacrifice -of something almost as sweet? How long the boy looks at his -bright penny before he gives it for the toothsome sugar-plum; -and how often the bright penny comes back to him, as the substantial -wealth, of which the moment’s gratification has deprived -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the coach began to draw near Stratford, I found myself -greatly excited; and every object began to assume a sort of conscious -connection with immortal genius. The very road,—but -much more the trees,—and even more, those features of the landscape -which might be supposed unchanged by the lapse of centuries, -seemed instinct with their past communion with a great -creative mind. His spell was on them. He had once been -familiar with these scenes. He had gathered many an image, -many a thought, and, I doubt not, many a refreshing hope, from -intercourse with their spring and summer beauties; and they had -been not less instructive to him, perhaps, in the season of the -sere-leaf, or in that of the wintry wind. Yonder was Charlecote—beyond -the Avon: its park still stretching thro’ the vale, -and hiding the old historic hall. But the thought of that juvenile -deer-stalking, gave speaking life to even the distant scene. -There is some sensitive principle in our nature, to which such -associations so powerfully appeal, that nothing is more real, for a -time, than the communion we hold with departed greatness, -through the medium of objects with which it was once conversant. -This reality I never felt so strongly as now. At last we came in -sight of that “star-ypointing pyramid”—the spire of Stratford. -The gentle tumult of feelings with which it ruffled my inmost -nature, for a moment, and the calm enjoyment that succeeded, -were enough to pay me for crossing the Atlantic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was duly set down at the Red Horse Inn, and ushered into -the trim little parlour, and even into the elbow-chair, of which I -had read, aforetime, in the pages of Geoffrey Crayon. Mine -host readily recognizes an American, and never fails to produce, -on such an occasion, the “sceptre” of the said Geoffrey, wherewith -he once poked the coals, in the smoking grate of said parlour, -and, for a tranquil moment, was “monarch of all he surveyed.” -Indeed, if Shakspeare reigns in Stratford, it must be -allowed that the Red Horse is, nevertheless, the principality of -Crayon, and that it is rapidly rising into a formidable rivalship -of New Place, and the Guildhall, on the strength of Crayon’s -reputation, to say nothing of the landlord’s ale. In short, no -visitor to Stratford has ever left there such a lasting impression -of his footsteps, as our own delightful Irving: and it was pleasant, -indeed, thus, at the very threshold of my visit, to find, even -in the broad glare of Shakspeare’s glory, the star of our countryman -revolving steadily in its own peculiar orbit, and shining as -no mean satellite of that great central sun of Anglo-Saxon -literature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I should be a bold man, indeed, to attempt to add anything to -Irving’s description of Stratford-upon-Avon. I have only the -adventures of my day to tell of, and they were few and simple. -I followed in the beaten track to the old tumble-down cottage, -which is called the birth-place of Shakspeare, and which was -doubtless the scene of his infancy. I recognized at once, the -original of many a well-thumbed print, and of many a descriptive -page. Timber from the forest of Arden; clay from the bed -of the Avon; sticks and mud at best compose the nest in which -the Mighty Mother brought the immortal Swan to light. It was -once a better nest than now. A butcher has degraded it to serve -as shambles, and it has yet the appearance of a stall for meat, -although it is no longer used, except as a relic, the show-woman -being its only tenant. Here, in spite of its transmutations, you -cannot but fancy the elder Shakspeare, “with spectacles on -nose,” sitting in the spacious chimney, and teaching little Will -his alphabet, or telling him, beside the winter’s fire, of the -“mysteries” he had seen played, near by, at Coventry, when he -was a boy. Through the door, you seem yet to see the marvellous -urchin, with his satchel, creeping unwillingly to school: or, -back he comes, with shining face, to tell that the Queen’s players -have just arrived from London, to play “Troy-town,” at the -Guildhall! Here, at all events, day after day went over that -mysterious young head, filling it with impressions, not one of -which ever seems to have escaped it, and preparing its tenant -genius to be the great bridge between old and modern England, -by means of which, feeling, as well as fact, runs on continuously, -in the line of English History, and gives it a unity and a vitality -which the annals of other nations lack. Oh, strange, immortal, -universal Will! How supernatural the interest that hangs about -thine every step, from the cradle to the grave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>You ascend a few creaking stairs, and you are in the very -room where the first of his Seven Ages was, no doubt, duly signalized -by himself, “mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.” -How many lives have been the mere pendants of the life that -here flickered in its first lighting, and which a puff of air might -have put out—the world none the sadder for its loss! Yet now, -how supreme the dominion of that one soul, these scribbled walls -attest; where vulgar enthusiasm is not more legible, than that of -the worldly great, of foreign scholars and sovereign princes, and -of intellectual autocrats scarce less imperial than Shakspeare -himself. How powerful the inspiration of the <span class='it'>genius loci</span>, is best -proved by the fact that among the scribblings one reads the autograph -of Walter Scott. Verily, there is no fame like Shakspeare’s! -Subduing, as he does, the instincts of all classes alike, -and entering as he does, into the sympathies of all nations, he -must be regarded less as a man of genius, than as a noble instrument -of <span class='sc'>God</span>, for subordinating human passions and affections to -some superior purpose of His own, perhaps not yet conceived. -The rise of a Christian literature, and that the purest which the -world has ever possessed, is dated from the age of which he was -the bright peculiar star; and the whole Anglo-Saxon race must -ever recognize in him the original master of many of its forms -of thought, a rich contributor to its idiom and language, and the -constructor of some of its strongest sentiments of civilization, of -morals, and of religion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The site of the New Place is occupied by a solid mansion, -which, devoid of interest in itself, commands a moment’s attention, -as occupying the spot on which Shakspeare’s prosperous -days were passed, and which was emphatically his home. All -that remains of him, in this place, and its immediate neighbourhood, -is nevertheless soon seen and dismissed, as nothing but the -enthusiasm of an idolator would detect anything specially attractive -in a statue set up by Garrick at the Town Hall, and a few -other memorials, too minute, or too modern, to deserve much delay -in their inspection. I reserved my raptures for the walk to Shottery. -Striking into the fields, I pleased myself with the conviction -that air and earth are still very much the same in them, -as when the boy Shakspeare played truant, and sported among -their sweets. The birds and the flowers are still as gay as when -he preferred to learn their lessons, rather than the schoolmaster’s; -and when I turned into a shady lane, all green and white with -hawthorn, or plucked the peas’ blossom in the upland, or the -buttercup and daisy in the meadow, I felt sure that his foot had -fallen where they grew, and that they had given him pleasure, -and taught him morals, which the world has willingly taken at -second-hand, and will never “willingly let die.” Yes, the very -labouring oxen, and the pasturing cows, seemed to me of a superior -breed. Short-horn, or Devonshire, or whatever they may -be to the farmer, they were, in my esteem, not less than Shaksperean -beef fed on the grass of Stratford, and feeding my -imagination with images of the animated nature of the same -scenery, as it was three hundred years ago. I came to several -pretty farm cottages, with shrubbery in their little door-yards, -and at one of these I knocked, thinking it must be Anne Hathaway’s; -but the damsel who opened the door seemed not much -flattered by the inquiry, for Anne, though she was Shakspeare’s -wife, was not an honest woman, by the parish register, and has -little honour in her own village. However, the damsel pointed -out my way, with milk-maid courtesy, and away I went with -traveller-like apologies. Here, then, at last, was the scene of -Will’s discreditable courtship; and here, if they deceived me not, -descendants of the Hathaways live still. The house is in two -parts, like nave and chancel in ecclesiastical architecture; timbered -and plastered, like the birth-place aforesaid, and thatched -in the picturesque style so dear to Crayon artists and sketchers; -its little windows peeping out of the straw, like sharp eyes under -the shaggy brows of an old pensioner, sunning himself in front of -an ale-house. I am glad to say that roses, and other flowers, -were duly set about the cottage, as one which I plucked, and -brought away, bears witness. They showed me some old Hathaway -furniture, and among others an enormous bedstead of Elizabethan -date, on which, they would have me believe, that many -of the poet’s dreams had visited him. There was also an ancient -oaken chair: and finally, some bed and table linen was taken out -of an old chest. It was evidently homespun, and they believed -it to be Anne’s work, as well as property. With this view of the -matter, however, the initials E. H. did not entirely agree, and although -I was inclined to yield this objection at the moment, when -credulity was allowable, I do not now flatter myself that I have -seen the bedstead or the bed-clothes of Shakspeare. It is something -better that I have seen the Church in which he was christened, -and where he now lies, under the chancel; and where he -was taught to pray; and where he often knelt, one would fain -believe, in true contrition; and where he learned, from some -lowly parson, unknown to fame, many of those sublime and gospel -verities, which have given, even to his poorer themes, their -savor of immortality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The avenue of limes which leads to the church-porch, is rather -stiff than otherwise. The “way to Parish Church” was probably -unpaved, and perhaps unshaded, when Will tottered over it, -to be catechised; or when, in maturer years, he sought the House -of God with reverence, among the multitude that kept holy -day. The Church itself is of Anglo-Norman date, and was -originally such in its architecture, but has frequently been altered -and repaired, at various periods. It is cruciform, and would be -not unworthy of a visit for its own sake. The churchyard is full -of graves, and the Avon flows under its walls. I sat there, for -nearly an hour, quite alone, trying to grasp the full idea of the -spot. A lubberly scow came paddling along on the turbid river; -and the rooks started up, and then lighted upon the old gray -tower; and some sheep came nibbling among the graves; and -finally, two or three children ran about me, and kept me company, -for awhile; but oh! how unconscious seemed all these of -the great reality of the place, and how still and solemnly the -poet slumbered on, in his sepulchre, unconscious of this prosy -nineteenth century, which thus wags on without him. I took -out my tablets in a sort of reverie; wrote down the date, and -scribbled on at random, as follows: ‘Here, in the churchyard of -Stratford, I am sitting on the stone-wall, which defends it from -the Avon, and at the foot of which, its fringe of flags grows rank, -amid the slime. The sun, through the half-misty atmosphere, is -falling tenderly on the limes; birds are singing; a rook cawing; -nobody is near, but the breeze whispers, socially, through the elms -overhead. How still the old spire points up to heaven! How -dearly the grass clings to the tower and belfry, growing there in -every “coigne of vantage!” And this quiet old chancel, too! -Within these walls was Shakspeare made a member of Christ, -and here he waits the Judgment. Oh, Will! how much for thee -imports the Scripture, “<span class='it'>by thy words</span> thou shalt be justified, and -by thy words thou shalt be condemned!”’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old legendary sexton of Irving’s visit has passed away, -and another reigns in his stead. Availing myself of his keys, I -excused him from any further effort of his tongue, and surveyed -the solemn interior in peace. Here, too, the hand of restoration -has been freshly at work, and has set the holy house in -order. The Church which enfolds the tomb of Shakspeare is -dedicated to the Holy Trinity—the God who made him, and -whom he adored. The meagre god of unbelief would never have -filled such a soul as his, or moved him to kneel down; but how -often that overwhelming Mystery of Faith must have thrilled -him here, as he repeated the creed, or chanted the <span class='it'>Te Deum!</span> At -last I stood before the famous bust, and looked upon that sublime -forehead, and those composed features, and said to it silently -those brotherly lines of Milton, which the sight brings naturally -to mind. Then I read the inscription, and spelled out, letter by -letter, the words of that imprecatory verse, in which Shakspeare’s -self is as legible as anything else. “Good friend, for Jesu’s -sake,” etc.—<span class='it'>Amen</span>, was my response. It was a moment to remember, -but not to describe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I next tried to satisfy myself as to the sense of <span class='it'>Mistriss Hall’s</span> -epitaph, which is ambiguous; and on which the inspection of the -original throws little additional light. It tells us <span class='it'>first</span>, that she -was “witty above her sexe,” and <span class='it'>second</span>, that she was “wise to -salvation,” and then adds:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Something of Shakspeare was in <span class='it'>that</span>—but <span class='it'>this</span></p> -<p class='line0'> Wholly of him, with whom she’s now in blisse.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, of course, this <span class='it'>him</span> must mean her Saviour, with whom -she is in Paradise; yet, it may mean, for all that, her father -Shakspeare; and the question is, was not the ambiguity a quaint -conceit, and intended to be a doublet? If so, as it has often -struck me, whatever we may think of its taste, it is an important -testimony to the maturer character of the poet; since its secondary -meaning would be, to give it in paraphrase—that her wit had -something in it of Shakspeare, but that her piety was wholly -learned of her father, with whom she now reaps its reward. Now -if we exclude this idea, it would almost seem to force us into the -sad reverse; for certainly, as it is first read, it seems to imply -that she was not indebted to her father for any of her religion, -though she was for her wit. Of course, it may be answered, that -<span class='it'>wisdom unto salvation</span> is so exclusively from Christ, as its meritorious -cause, that nothing else is to be taken into account, as its instrument; -but is this the sole idea of the verse? Very likely; -and yet after all, I wonder that its ambiguous character has never -attracted the attention of the many who have raked and scraped -the very dust of Stratford for something rich and strange. Certain -it is, that, like many readings of Shakspeare himself, it wants -but a change of emphasis, from word to word, to give two or -three different senses, any one of which is tolerable, although it -is an intolerably bad epitaph, after all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I believe the droppings of this Church of Stratford bedew the -works of Shakspeare, from the first sonnet to the last play, and -that here he was schooled to that strict law of his dramas, which -runs through all, and by which he always “shows virtue her own -feature, and scorn her own image,” instead of fitting the mask -of propriety upon the front of shame. More than all, it was -here that he learned that reverence for the name of Jesus, with -which he so often embalms his pages, and which so often makes -them melodious to a believer’s ear and heart. How much, too, -the first and second lesson out of “the Bishop’s Bible”—how -much the Epistle and Gospel, and the Psalter, taught him, not -only of sonorous English, but of Christian doctrine and morals! -I am sure these influences may be detected in his works; and as -I looked at the very spot where his young idea was taught to -shoot toward heaven, I felt that this was the sublimest association -of the place. Here once (my fancy suggested) he may have -heard in the lesson for the day—<span class='it'>suffer chyldren to come unto Me</span>, -and then, a few verses afterwards, he must have been struck with -the contrast, when the parson read on—<span class='it'>it is easier for a camell to -go thorow a nedle’s eye</span>, etc. He was now a prosperous man, and -had just purchased New-Place, and obtained a grant of Arms. -His conscience therefore pricked him with the question—Was he -one of the rich men for whom admission into heaven was to be -so hard? The parson mounted the pulpit, and quoted much -learned stuff out of Sir John Maundeville, to explain the orientalism -of the lesson: and among other things, he threw out the idea -that the postern gate of an Eastern city was so small, that it was -impossible for a beast of burthen to pass through it, and was -usually called “the needle’s eye,” and hence the force of the comparison. -All this, Shakspeare, who was thinking his own thoughts, -heard only incoherently, and he got a somewhat confused idea of -the <span class='it'>postern</span> and <span class='it'>needle</span>; but being, just then, at work on his Richard -the Second, he goes home, and puts his Sunday reverie into the -mouth of his hero, thus:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“My thoughts of things divine are intermixed</p> -<p class='line0'> With scruples, and do set the word itself</p> -<p class='line0'> Against the word,</p> -<p class='line0'> As thus—<span class='it'>Come little ones</span>; and then, again,</p> -<p class='line0'> <span class='it'>It is as hard to come, as for a camel</span></p> -<p class='line0'> <span class='it'>To thread the postern of a needle’s eye.</span>”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Such at least is the story, which this passage suggests to me as, -very possibly, the way in which it came to him. I often trace to -a similar source, that is, to the open Scriptures, and the vernacular -services of the Church of England, the innumerable Siloan -streams which freshen and even sanctify his verse. The great -themes of redemption may be found richly illustrated in many -passages; and I think I could select from his works enough of -sacred poetry to fill a little volume, and one fit to be kept as a -companion to the Prayer-Book and the Christian Year. I cannot -credit the scandal that Shakspeare died of a debauch, nor do -I believe he was less than an ordinary Christian. While the -secrets of his heart are with his God, we may at least, in Christian -charity, believe that the friend of publicans and sinners may -have seen in him a practical dependence upon that Atonement -which, by the mouth of Portia, he has preached so well:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                        —“Therefore, Jew,</p> -<p class='line0'>Though justice be thy plea, consider this,</p> -<p class='line0'>That in the course of justice none of us</p> -<p class='line0'>Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>As I departed, I plucked a branch of ivy from the Church -wall, near the spot where his dust awaits the resurrection. It -was brought home with me to America—the land in which he -has more readers than anywhere else in the whole world. How -little he foresaw this, when in compliment to James the First, he -recorded (if the passage be his own) the prediction that James -should “make new nations;” adding—what proves rather true -of himself—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,</p> -<p class='line0'> His honour, and the greatness of his name</p> -<p class='line0'> Shall be!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A threatening rain prevented my walking to Charlecote, but I -went away contented. I was inclined to indulge a little in -Jacques’ vein, and the melancholy clouds began to favour us -with congenial tears, as—reduced to sober prose—I made my -way in the storm, on the top of a stage-coach, through what was -once the Forest of Arden.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Haddon Hall—Chatsworth—Shrewsbury—Chester.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>After renewing my acquaintance with the hospitable friends -at B——, with whom I had passed my Easter, I made an excursion -into Derbyshire, with an episodical trip to Nottingham. -My chief attraction to this latter place was that of an invitation -from sundry relatives of my B—— friends to visit them, though -the town is certainly well worthy of being visited for itself. For -the sake of poor Kirke-White, one would wish to hunt up his -lowly birth-place, and some would say that Newstead Abbey -deserves a traveller’s homage. In fact, the Park and Abbey are -the great charm of the neighbourhood, to most visitors; but I must -own that I could not bring myself to make a pilgrimage to the -scene of those orgies for which it is chiefly distinguished. On -making some such remark to a worthy ex-magistrate of the borough, -I was struck with the downright English common sense of his -reply,—“You are quite right”—said he—“no one thinks much -of Lord Byron, in these parts, where he was known; he cheated -the tradesmen with whom he had dealings, and made himself so -odious, that when his remains were brought through Nottingham, -to be buried, we could not make up our minds to pay him any honours!” -So much for romance and misanthropy! Genius, without -honour and morality, is despicable indeed: and one even doubts -the sentimental refinement of the man, of whom an intimate -friend and companion could say, with anything like epigrammatic -truthfulness, that “he cried for the press, and wiped his eyes -with the public.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A visit to the castle, and its caves, to which my reverend -friend from B—— conducted me, well repaid us for our walk to -the eminence on which it stands in ruins. It belonged to the -late Duke of Newcastle, and was burned, as I remember very -well, during the Reform riots, by an infuriate mob: but it is supposed, -that the stiff old aristocrat whom they meant to injure, -was very well pleased with the outrage. He did not inhabit it; -he was well reimbursed for his loss; and was relieved from the -tax of keeping up an unnecessary residence. The caves which -undermine the castle, are famous for their historical connection -with the story of the “She-wolf of France:” for through them -was made the entrance into the fortress, which resulted in the -arrest of Isabella and her paramour. They still point out a certain -cave, as Mortimer’s; but the whole rock is riddled by -fissures and loop-holes, and appears to be very soft and friable. -From the summit one gets a beautiful view of Clifton-grove and -the Vale of Trent; and on another side of Belvoir Castle, (pronounced -<span class='it'>Beaver</span>,) the seat of the Duke of Rutland. The “Field -of the Standard” is near the castle, and I surveyed, with deep -feeling, the spot where King Charles set up his ensign, to be torn -down by the storm the same night, and to be even more unfortunate, -in the issue, than the omen seemed to require. After a -visit to a few of the churches and public buildings, and a single -night under one of its roofs, I was off to Derbyshire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With Derby itself I was not long detained, though I cannot -but remember, with pleasure, the acquaintance I formed there -with several very agreeable persons. Perhaps the most interesting -thing about Derby is the historical reminiscence, that here the -progress of the Stuart standard was finally, and forever arrested. -It is surprising that “Royal Charlie” ever succeeded in pushing -his invasion to this point: but thus much he effected, in the fatal -’45, and the spot where he was lodged, in Derby, is still shown -by the townsfolk, with interest, if not enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even railway glimpses of Derbyshire give one many pleasurable -emotions, abounding as it does in beautiful valleys and streams, -and in abrupt rocky hills—jocosely described by Walton, as -frightful and savage, to such a degree that he affects surprise at -the sight of a church among them, and asks whether there be -verily any Christians in such a country. When, at last, I found -myself strolling along the Wye, and conversing with an angler, -in the green mead, just within sight of the battlements of Haddon -Hall, all the delicious nature and good humour of old Izaak came -upon me, and observing that nothing near me seemed to be of -modern fashion, I was almost transported back two centuries, -and fancied myself for a moment at his side, learning, like <span class='it'>Venator</span>, -to love angling, and so to weather the evil days of Cromwell—studying -to be quiet in that vocation, and to mind my own business, -as the apostle doth enjoin. It had been my purpose to -visit Dove-dale, in honour of Walton, but this I found impracticable, -and the nearest I could come to it was now realized. -Blessings on his worthy memory! for though I be not an accepted -brother of the angle, having never enjoyed great luck when I -have gone a fishing, yet do I allow the art all honour, and do -consider it the becoming recreation for a Churchman; admitting -its connection with the catechism, and saying <span class='it'>Amen</span> to divers -other postulates of Walton, of like grave and self-evident character.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I must own that I found Haddon Hall of considerably less -dimensions than I had foreshadowed to my fancy. I had supposed -its smallest chamber one of those gigantic apartments, in -which candles and fire-light must strive in vain to throw their -illumination from the chimney-piece to the opposite wainscot; -or in which a nocturnal guest might find the freest exercise of -imagination, in looking after noises, towards the dark distance, -from the lamp at his bedside, of the waving hangings and creaking -doors. It is not altogether such a house as that; and yet if -there be a better site for the residence of a ghost, or a troop of -them, I have never seen it. Your nervous man should never try -to lodge there. It is stripped of nearly all its furniture, save -only such as is requisite to give full effect to midnight sounds -and mysterious moanings. Its history is lost in that of the dim -and traditionary ages of the Plantagenets; the windows of its -lonely chapel bear the date 1427; and the last touches of the -builder were given to it at least three hundred years ago. There -it stands—a relic of the domestic architecture of feudal England. -Here are turreted and embattled gate-ways, and quadrangular -courts, enclosed as if to stand a siege. The kitchen is designed -for the largest hospitality; spits, dressers and chopping block, -all speaking of the bountiful housekeeping of the olden time—to -say nothing of the vast chimneys, which seem made to roar with -Christmas fires perpetually. You ascend a great stair-case, on -which it seems almost profane to set a modern foot, so entirely -does it bespeak its ancient right to be trodden by the doughty -and dainty steps of lords and dames, in the attire of by-gone -centuries. You enter a room hung with antique tapestry, now -ready to drop into tatters. You push-to the old squeaking doors, -and drop these hangings, and it no longer appears how you got -in, or how you may get out. You understand at once the allusions -of many an old play, and almost expect to find some thievish -figure lurking behind the arras. Hangings they truly are, for -hooks are built into the wall, and to these the arras are attached. -But the “Long Gallery” is the place in which a ghost would -naturally air himself. It is wainscoated and floored with oak, -and ornamented with various carved devices and emblems, such -as the rose, and the thistle, and the boar’s head; and then it has -deep recessed window-seats and oriels; and some of them look -out on the sunny terraces of the garden, and suggest vague ideas -of romance, and create phantom ladies of olden time, to fill up -the scene, and rich illustrative stories to make them interesting. -No doubt real hearts have throbbed here with high and tender -emotions: and events which we know only as the dry details of -history, have filled these silent chambers with notes of joy or -sorrow, with the wail of the widow or the forlorn maiden, or -with the voice of the bridegroom and the bride. The stately -Elizabeth is said to have once figured in this gallery, at a ball.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The architecture of the great hall is severely antique, and -suggests a rude and uncivil age, in spite of its air of dignity and -hospitality. The men who dined here evidently wore swords, -and the loving-cup and health-drinking were no mere ceremonies; -the party who drank, as he lifted his arm, looking narrowly at -the friend who stood up to guard him. A hand-cuff which is -fastened to the wood-work seems to hint that guests were sometimes -troublesome after taking plenty of sack. I could think of -nothing but Twelfth-night revels in this curious old place, adorned -as it is with the antlers of stags that were hunted long ago, and -whose venison once smoked on the board.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The terraced gardens, with their shades, and balusters, and -steps, and walks, and portals, are in keeping with all the rest, -and the tale of the Lady Dorothea Vernon, and of her mysterious -elopement, is enough to fill them with the charm of romance. -From one of the towers you look down upon the whole range of -roofs and courts, and then gaze far away over a beautiful view -of the vale of Haddon. Before you depart you are shown some -ancient utensils belonging to the place, such as jack-boots, and -match-locks, and doublets. These are kept in the apartment of -my reverend brother, the domestic chaplain, whoever he may -have been; but whether he had any use for such things I cannot -bear testimony. The adjoining chapel in which he officiated is -very small, and quite plain. The ancient piscina, beside the -altar, tells its simple story of the rites which, according to the -mediæval liturgy of England, hallowed it of yore. It conjured -up before my fancy the midnight mass of Christmas, as described -by Scott—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“That night alone, of all the year,</p> -<p class='line0'> Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>It was, at any rate, no Tridentine Eucharist, though it was a -mutilated one; and sad as were the scenes of debauchery with -which those solemnities are associated, I could not but trust that, -even here, Christ crucified had been truly worshipped, of old, on -the solemn feast of his Nativity, and on many other occasions of -Christian joy or penitence. Who would not cling to such communion -with ancient piety? And yet this natural sympathy, -when morbidly developed, has done more than all things else -together, to bewitch the imaginative with Romanism, and to make -them slavish captives to a Church which has retained nothing -mediæval except that newfangled creed, to which the departed -spirit of Mediæevalism has bequeathed none of its poetry, and -which only exists as the inanimate slough of its superstition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Compared with Haddon Hall, the superb modern residence of -Chatsworth struck me as tame and spiritless. The mansion has -indeed a pleasant seat: and the deer, bounding over the velvet -turf of its park, or the peacock, strutting amid its balusters and -fountains, give it indeed a lordly look of opulent show, without -much ease. Yet what is it, at best, but the dull round of “my -lord’s apartments,” without one association beyond that of my -lord’s great wealth and luxury? I should be ashamed to confess, -indeed, that I was not pleased with the pictures, and more than -pleased with the exquisite carvings and magnificent sculpture, -viewed merely as works of art; but I was fatigued with the vast -worldliness of such a house, and felt that it would better have -suited a Hadrian, than it does a Christian nobleman of England. -Such a residence as Warwick Castle comes to its possessor historically, -and a nobleman may well keep it up; but Chatsworth -seems built for display, and must be altogether too much for -comfort. I am glad if its possessor enjoys it—but I should rather -dwell in the humblest parsonage in England. Nature itself, as -seen from the windows of Chatsworth, has a combed and dressy -look. Its vast conservatory—the original of the Crystal Palace—is -well worth a visit, and its gardens are curious enough, but -the water-works are elaborately frivolous. I was promised a -<a id='fine'></a>fine artificial cataract—but lo! in the side of a beautiful hill I -saw a stone stair-case, and by-and-by the water came sluggishly -down stairs, like a little girl, in white dress, afraid to let go of the -hand rail, as she leaps timidly from step to step. “Good morning, -Miss Cataract,” said I, “that will do!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The same clipped and artificial beauty belongs to the neighbouring -village of Edensor, and the whole seems the more unreal -as contrasting violently with the natural features of this -wild and ruggedly beautiful country. I am glad to have seen -Chatsworth, but I should not care to see it again, though the -desolate Haddon Hall never recurs in my memory, without -awakening fresh longings to be once more in Derbyshire, and to -saunter again along its rushing Wye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With my visit to Matlock Bath, I was much better satisfied. -Here indeed is Derbyshire, in spite of spruce inns and fashionable -boarding-houses. I scampered over the hills, (having first climbed -them with more pleasure than fatigue,) and went from view to -view with increasing transports. This region is all cliff and ravine, -and precipice and chasm; yet in every direction the eye is refreshed -and delighted, and the mind takes pleasure alike in thinking -that it is scarcely English scenery, and that it is yet strikingly -unlike anything but England after all! These sharp outlines, -and bold walls of rock, for example, you say are somewhat Swiss; -but as you look over them, towards the horizon, you see that -their foliage and their verdure are English, absolutely; and then, -looking down the chasm, at your feet, you see a trim and neat -little village, and houses set in gardens, and peeping out from -shrubbery, and especially a church, altogether such as no one -ever sees save in England only! I entered the Speedwell mine, -and went through the usual experiments with lights amid the -spar, but, on the whole, the subterranean part of Matlock was -what I liked least about it. I felt lonely, however, in enjoying -my ramble about so beautiful a place, and the company of certain -loved ones in America was longed for over and over again to -make it all that I desired. From this delightful place I made -my way to Shrewsbury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beautiful is Shrewsbury, without and within! Its spires and -its towers give you far-off promise of a place worthy of the -traveller’s halt, and when you enter its old-fashioned streets, you -are not disappointed. I found the market-place, with its hall and -surrounding mansions, quite as unmodernized as those of towns -in the north of France. The projecting gable of many an old -timbered house confronts you as you go hither and thither -through the borough, and very often the woodwork of such -houses is fancifully arranged and ornamented, in a manner highly -effective and picturesque. Their modern tenants paint the timbers -with grave, but appropriate colours, and whitewash the -plastered walls which intervene, thus bringing out the full design -of the ancient architect in a neat and striking manner. I saw, -in one of the streets, a chair carried by bearers, precisely as in -Hogarth’s prints, and which seemed to have been in use ever -since Hogarth’s day. Its occupant was a portly female, who -might have graced the Court of Queen Anne, so far as her -appearance was concerned, and what with such an apparition, in -a place altogether so antique, I found myself for a moment quite -in doubt whether the nineteenth century were actually in existence, -with its many inventions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went through the beautiful and finely-wooded field called <span class='it'>the -Quarry</span>, and the walk called <span class='it'>St. Chad’s</span>, and crossed one of the -bridges over the Severn to the Abbey Church. Here I found -some interesting monuments and architectural curiosities; and the -neighbourhood seemed to abound in similar relics of what must -once have been a very large conventual establishment. At St. -Mary’s, there was a Jesse-window and some tombs, which afforded -me a gratifying occupation for awhile; then the ruins of an old -castle, such as they are, attracted me; and, though last, not least, -the fragments of a very ancient church, being merely its chancel, -dedicated to St. Chad. The school in which Sir Philip Sydney -was reared, and where Fulke Grevil became his friend, still -swarms with the ingenuous youth of England, and I encountered -them at every turn, in the highways and by-ways of the town. -What an element of education it must be of itself for a lad to be -sent to a school that has such a history! Such thoughts made -me faint of heart for a moment, when I felt the irreparable -poverty of my own country in historical associations. The inestimable -dowry of a glorious antiquity can never mingle its -ennobling qualities with our national character. We may, and -we do, enjoy immense compensations; but what reflective American -does not give way at times to a melancholy sense that he has -indeed “no past at his back,” and that God has isolated him involuntarily, -by this great fact, from the fellowship of nations! -“But here comes a Shrewsbury boy,” said I, amid such thoughts, -“what cares he for Sydney, more than an ordinary American lad -at school?” Sure enough! Why then be sentimental? It is, after -all, only a certain class of minds, that receives powerful impressions -from anything past or future: and I believe an American -youth can enjoy such impressions effectively, by means of a -healthful imagination, while an English youth may often find it -hard to divest the realities with which he is daily conversant, of -the degrading effects of familiarity. Such is my calmer judgment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I tasted the famous “Shrewsbury cakes” at the station-house, -and having spent several hours “by Shrewsbury clock,” in this -pleasing survey of the old borough, I left it with regret, purposing -to return, and to make excursions from it to a neighbouring -seat to which I had been kindly invited, and also to Hodnet, -which I greatly desired to see, in honour of the gentle and beloved -Heber. In these plans, however, I was disappointed. As -you leave Shrewsbury for the north, you gain a most agreeable -view of the town, which stands on a fair peninsula in the bright -embrace of the Severn. It is a place full of poetry. On one -side are the Welsh Mountains; on the other, amid Salopian fields, -you descry the columnar monument of Lord Hill; but the tall -spires and the Abbey Tower tell more eloquently of Hotspur.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Chirk station a Welsh family entered the train, gabbling -their consonants most unintelligibly; but I soon discovered from -their adieus, and their tears and sighs, that they were emigrants -going to Liverpool to ship for America. This stirred up a warm -home-feeling: I found that one of them could talk English, and -I was not long in finding a way to their hearts. They were going -to Wisconsin, and were very willing to be advised on ordinary -matters. I tried, also, to impress them with my own ideas of the -privileges they might enjoy under the care of the Nashotah Missionaries; -but I fear they were dissenters, as the Welsh peasantry -too often are, and that my endeavours to add to the burthens of -my esteemed brethren of that diocese were quite unavailing. I -slept that night at Chester.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I despair of describing Chester. Elsewhere in England -you meet with ancient houses and picturesque streets; but Chester -is all antiquity. What you would go miles to see, when in -search of the quaintly beautiful, is here multiplied before you in -almost every house. In the first place it is a walled town. I -made the circuit of the walls in the morning, with constant emotions -of astonishment; for they are in good repair, and seem even -yet to have their use, whereas, I had imagined them to be mere -relics of the past. I came to the Tower upon the wall, from the -summit of which Charles the First beheld the total rout of his -army. It is a mere watch-tower; but as the memorial of a great -event, it would be hard to imagine a monument more striking. -There is much more to interest the passenger as he goes on, looking -now into houses built into the wall like swallows’ nests, and -now into church-yards, and now into a race-course, and again into -a river: but a thoughtful tourist, and especially one from America, -will find it hard to think of anything but that Tower, and the -mighty issues which were once deciding before it, in view of an -august and awfully interested spectator. Poor King! as he -descended from it, what must have been his emotions?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The streets of Chester are said still to preserve the outlines of -the Roman camp, from which the town derives its name. They -are a great curiosity in themselves, and seem to have been cut -down into the rock, while the houses were reared on the banks, -above the level thus obtained. And such houses! Gable after -gable, timbered, pargetted, enriched with carving, and jutting -over the street—each one “a picture for painters to study!” -And where are the <span class='it'>trottoirs</span>, or side-walks? Lo! the houses all -run down to the carriage-way; but what should be their front -rooms, above the basement floor, are mere verandahs, through the -whole line of which freely walks the public, always under cover, -and always at home! These “rows” (even more than the walls) -are the feature of Chester which most strikes the stranger; especially -as the opposite houses, which he beholds in passing -through them, are full of curious objects for any one whose eye -delights in the antique. On one, for example, are rich emblematic -or fanciful decorations and carvings; on another, a scene -from Scripture history is cut in uncouth style; while another -bears the legend: <span class='it'>God’s providence is mine inheritance</span>, 1652. A -good inheritance always, but especially in Cromwell’s time. The -guide-book says, that in the great plague of the year thus designated, -this house was the only one which the destroying angel did -not visit. Hence the pious inscription.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But there is no doing justice to old Chester, on a tourist’s page. -Its cathedral is a poor one, and so crumbling are its walls and -buttresses, that every shower washes down a plentiful soil, from -the decomposing stone. I lingered without weariness, however, -in its aisles and cloisters, and must say that its service was sung -delightfully, although the singers were few, and the clergy fewer -still. The same disgraceful poverty and lifelessness, which I had -remarked elsewhere, characterized the visible force of the establishment; -and I could not but say to myself, if this feeble performance -is, nevertheless, so edifying and effective, what might -not be the blessed result of a vitalized cathedral body, serving -God night and day in His Temple, as God should be always -served, in this rich and ancient Church of an empire which professes -to be Christian, and which God has so unspeakably exalted -among the nations of the earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other ecclesiastical objects of the town were duly visited, -and then I took a boat on the Dee, and was rowed toward Eaton -Hall, which I finally reached on foot, after a walk through the -surrounding park. This was, till very lately, regarded as the -finest possible specimen of modern Gothic, in the domestic line, -and a vast amount of Cockney admiration has been wasted on it. -I found it undergoing repairs, which must greatly improve it; but, -after all, it is a meagre thing, when one has seen the Gothic of the -cathedrals, or of such a castle as Kenilworth. I did not see -much of the interior, as visitors were necessarily excluded, in -favour of the workmen; and so after visiting the conservatories, -and various outlying dependencies of this great house, I left it, -not greatly overwhelmed with what I had seen. I was better -pleased with my return voyage, on the Dee, and with the river-view -of Chester.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>A Trip into Wales.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the walls of Chester, one has a very tempting prospect -before him in the mountains of Wales. To Wales I now took my -way, and first of all alighted at Holywell station, to visit the -wondrous shrine and fountain of St. Winifred. A Welsh lady -had advised me, by all means, to pay this homage to her native -place, and had sportively prepared me to see something very -strange, indeed, in the legendary well of its tutelar. The story -which she told me was this, in short: that the well had sprung -from the earth, in the olden time, just where the head of the -Holy Winifred, fair and lovely as it was, touched the earth, -when her barbarous lover, Caradoc, smote it off, to revenge his -disappointed passion. Be this as it may, I found, in Holywell, a -very remarkable pool and fountain, by which lay a great number -of impotent folk, as formerly they did at Bethesda, in Jewry, -waiting for the moving of the waters. But no—these waters -always move. The fountain gushes up with violence, and runs -with a full tide. Whether it cures or not, I cannot say. It is -supposed to do so; and is used for healing purposes by hundreds. -The crutches of many of those who have been healed, are reverently -hung up over the well; and several inscriptions have been -cut, deep in the stone walls and pillars of the Church which -rises above it, expressive of gratitude for cure. Here James the -Second came to worship, in his dotage, in 1686. The Irish -Romanists, and modern converts, consider it a sort of duty to -uphold the miraculous reputation of the well, and are very zealous -in such tributes to the legend and the saint. One may certainly -believe that it is a healing spring, without swallowing the whole -story about St. Winifred; and for one, I am far from unwilling -to see such springs resorted to, and used, in a religious spirit, as -the gift of God. Nay, if we might but have the truth, and not a -“superstitious vanity,” I should rejoice to see them connected -with the memory of God’s saints; and, as I washed in the -crystal waters, I allowed myself to believe that the spot had -indeed been famous for some holy martyrdom, which perverse -ingenuity has distorted into the fable aforesaid—of which I -have only given the least ridiculous part. A fine and fragrant -moss, which grows about the well, and some red spots in -the stone, have furnished additional material to the fabulists, -which tradition has not failed to preserve; but the light and -graceful temple which rises over it, with a figure of the saint, -and which is ascribed to Margaret, the mother of Henry the -Seventh, is its most substantial monument. It is now a chapel -of the adjoining parish church, and I found it filled with -plain benches, and used for a Sunday-school room, and for service -in the English tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I was <span class='it'>en route</span> for the vale of Clwyd, (pronounced <span class='it'>Clooyd</span>,) -and so landing at Rhyl, I took a Welsh jaunting-car to St. -Asaph. At the very entrance of the vale stands an old historic -castle, in utter ruins, but overhung with ivy, and nobly bastioned, -and presenting a very venerable appearance. It was built -before the Norman invasion, and stands near the scene of that -ancient battle, still commemorated in the national air—<span class='it'>Morva -Rhuddlan</span>—which is full of traditional melancholy and plaintive -sweetness. Near Rhuddlan Castle a bridge spans the Clwyd, -adding a very picturesque feature to the scene; and just as -you descend to the bridge, you observe, on the projecting -wall of a mean cottage, the following inscription: “<span class='it'>This -fragment is the remains of the building in which King Edward the -First held his Parliament, A. D. 1283</span>.” Oh! what a romantic -land is Wales. England is fine prose; but Wales is all poetry. -Even here I fell in love with it; for Rhuddlan is a truly -historic pile. Almost its meanest memory is that of the -progress of the second Richard, who tarried here on his way -to Flint, to be deposed by Bolingbroke. Its latest memory, -however, is that of the national Bardic Festival, called an -<span class='it'>Eisteddfod</span>, which was celebrated here in 1850, with sad if not -fatal results. A staging gave way, during the performance, and -several of the fair and noble received severe contusions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I enjoyed a pleasant ride to St. Asaph, which finally disclosed -to my view a cathedral of very unpretending dimensions, on a -pretty hill, with a few houses grouped under its shadow, -and a sightly bridge of stone. This the <span class='it'>City</span> of St. Asaph! -Even so—for it is an ancient Episcopal See, and therefore it is a -city, while Liverpool is but a town. Therefore do I love -St. Asaph, because, of all cities I ever saw, it looks most like a -village. Indeed, as a village it would be much to my liking, -as still and quiet above most villages, and sweetly embosomed -among trees, over which the solid tower of the ancient church -presides with a motherly air, and ticks a sleepy time from its -solemn clock. It was Saturday night when I reached the -Mostyn Arms, and ordered my supper, and my bed-room. -‘Here then,’ said I, ‘I will spend a Sunday in supremest -loneliness; here I know nobody and am known of none; I -will be a mystery to mine host of the inn, who seems to -have no other guest, dropping nothing of mine errand in these -parts, but going my way on Monday morning, with an air of -dignified secrecy, and leaving him to imagine, as he may, what -could have brought me to St. Asaph.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A quiet breakfast at the inn was served with such noiseless -neatness and despatch, at the appointed hour, that I grew -sad with my bachelor comfort, feeling first, that I ought not to -enjoy so much, except at home, and then longing to be there. It -was not my hostess’s unimpeachable fare; bread all crisp -without, and all snowy sponge within; butter golden and -fragrant; prawns, gathered freshly from the clean sands of -Rhyl; eggs, that were never cold, and that now were hot to the -very second of culinary time; and divers varieties and fruits -that feasted the imagination even more than they gratified the -taste; it was not this substantial and meritorious breakfast -that made the Mostyn Arms a delightful resting-place; but it -was that entire order and decency that invested all, and that -forbade the idea of a <span class='it'>hotel</span>, and seemed to remind me that it -was Sunday; it was this that first charmed me, and then -made me lonely, and then positively sad. There is often a -domestic character about such an inn, in England and Wales, -that is positively religious. I remember one, in which the innkeeper -always invited his guests to family prayers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cathedral is the very plainest of its kind, but the choir is -not without effective dignity and beauty. I attended the -morning service, which was that of Pentecost, with exceeding -pleasure; and yet I observed with pain, that except the children -of the Sunday-school, there were few present, who were not, -unmistakeably, of the higher classes, or at least of those which -are considered very respectable. Where were the poor? The -liveried servants of the neighbouring gentry, in their powder and -plush, were perhaps of the humblest class represented; but, of -course, they are not the people. I was pleased, however, to see -several of them kneeling with their masters’ families at the -Holy Communion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After service, I was lingering among the tombs, in the churchyard, -and had particularly observed that of the excellent Bishop -Barrow, when one of the clergy approached me, and said, -“You are a clergyman, I’m sure; I beg you’ll come home with me -to dinner!” Never was I so much surprised, in my life, by such -a salutation. Welsh hospitality was proving more than a Highland -welcome! I expressed my scruples to accept an invitation -which was probably based on the idea that I was an Englishman, -and a clergyman of the National Church; but only so much the -more did my new acquaintance press me to dine with him, -offering to take me, after dinner, to a little Welsh parish, in -the mountains, where he promised that I should hear the -service in Welsh, and also a Welsh sermon, from himself. -So very attractive a bill it was impossible to resist, and presenting -my card, I promised to be at the appointed place, at the -proper hour. But I little knew how great a pleasure was in -store for me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I easily found my way to the house, which stood back from -the road; a modest mansion, encircled with trees and shrubs. -My friend himself opened the door, uttering a Welsh salutation, -which he interpreted to me by a warm grasp of the hand, -while he pointed me to a Welsh inscription on the wall—that -text of the beloved disciple, which enjoins him who loves God to -love his brother also. I was yet in the first flush of grateful -excitement, when I was ushered into a small drawing-room, -where a lady advanced and gave me a cordial greeting. The -clergyman introduced me to his wife, and to another lady who -was with her, and pointing to a portrait on the wall, which I -immediately recognized, said, “you will perhaps be glad to -know that you are in a poet’s house, that this is the poet’s -likeness, and that my wife is the poet’s sister.” I started -and said—“Can it be that this is Rhyllon?” I saw, in an -instant, that I was so happy as to have found my way, in -this manner, to the residence of the late Mrs. Hemans, and to an -acquaintance with that sister, of twin genius, whose music is as -widely known as some of the most popular of Mrs. Hemans’ -delightful lyrics.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was made to feel at home, without further preface, and -the dinner-hour passed delightfully, in conversation suited to -the day and the services of the morning, with many recognitions -of the power of our holy religion to obliterate differences of -nationality and of education, and to bind entire strangers in -practical brotherhood. The hour came to repair to the mountain -sanctuary, which proved to be several miles distant, and -the whole party of us went together, in a Welsh vehicle of -peculiar shape, but well suited to the road. As we began to -ascend into the hills, a fine view of the vale of Clwyd presented -itself. From the great mountain ranges, on the north and west, -to the crowned crag on which rises the Castle of Denbigh, the -eye took a majestic sweep, over one of the loveliest valleys in -Great Britain, and one full of romance and poetry. At last we -came to the Church, a most primitive little structure, of ancient -date, with a mere bell-gable, instead of a tower and spire, but of -a most ecclesiastical pattern in every respect. The villagers of -Tremeirchion were crowding the doorway, and on entering, I -found a large assembly of the Welsh peasantry, neatly attired, -and exceedingly intelligent in their appearance. A Welsh -Prayer-book was put into my hand, which, being a strict -translation of the English, I was enabled to use very profitably, -in following the service. The whole was novel and attractive. -I observed some old tombs and monuments, and was particularly -pleased to find the altar, the candlesticks, and other parts of the -Church, garnished with Pentecostal flowers—alike fragrant and -suggestive of festive emotions, in harmony with the blessed day -of the Holy Comforter. But the sweet and simple worship of -the villagers absolutely enraptured me. Their responses were -given in earnest, and their chants were particularly touching. -I was especially pleased with the <span class='it'>Gloria Patri</span>, which, as -perpetually recurring, I soon caught up, and was able to sing -with them, in a language of which, in the morning, I had not -known a word. Even now it lingers in my ear, with all the -charms of that plaintive intonation which seemed to me characteristic -of the Welsh tongue, and which singularly comports with -its <span class='it'>prestige</span>, as the language of an ancient and romantic people, -whose nationality has been never subdued, notwithstanding the -ages of its absorption into that of a stronger race.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sermon was delivered with emotion, apparently extemporaneously, -and was heard with fixed attention throughout. -From the text, which I picked out in a Welsh Testament, I was -able to gather some of its drift, and frequently to detect a -scriptural quotation. It was evidently a Whitsuntide sermon, -and the Holy Ghost, his gifts and consolations, were the blessed -theme. A sweet hymn concluded the service; and then, in the -churchyard, this excellent pastor presented me to several of -his worthy parishioners. How was I surprised when one of -them asked me, in English, if I had ever been at Nashotah! A -friend and relative of his had emigrated to Wisconsin, and had -there been taken up by the brethren of that Mission, concerning -which he had sent home many interesting accounts. I can -scarcely do justice, with my pen, to the thrill of feeling inspired -by finding that the blessed influences of Nashotah were felt, -by brethren of a diverse tongue, far away over sea and land, -in that lonely nook of the Welsh mountains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Deep in the wall of Tremeirchion Church is set the ancient -tomb of an old priest of Llanerch, who was once its pastor. He -was the wonder of his age for wisdom, and especially for the -lore with which, like Solomon, he spake of trees and of plants. -It was he who first translated the <span class='it'>Te Deum</span> into Welsh, and -such was his sanctity that Satan could gain no advantage over -him, except through his love of science. So then, as the story -goes, Satan promised to reveal to him some mighty secret of -nature, on condition that, after death, he might claim him; and -that, whether buried in the Church, or without, there should be -no release from the bond. The wily clerk accepted the bargain, -and became so wise that all the land confessed his astonishing -attainments, as beyond comparison, in their day; but Satan, -for once, was outwitted. The sage took good care that his body -should be buried neither without nor within the Church; and -accordingly it is shown to this day, as part of the wall itself, and -jurists are agreed that Satan must be nonsuited whenever he -ventures to set up a claim against the holy clerk of Llanerch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I ventured to contrast, in conversation with my friend, -the delightful fervour of this service, with the coldness of that -which I had attended in the morning, at the cathedral, he -answered, with feeling:—“We Welshmen love our own language; -we talk English in traffic and in business, but Welsh is the -language of our hearts. The Church has too generally neglected -or even outraged this principle. Our Bishops have been seldom -able to address us in the speech of our affections; the dissenters -have earned many captive, merely by employing the tongue of -the people, in their exciting harangues. Where the Welsh -are served in their own tongue by their hereditary Church, they -seldom forsake her, and my little parish is but a small example of -what might be universal, if the Welsh were but considered worthy -of being conciliated, by a tribute to their hereditary feelings, -and their unconquerable nationality.” These appeared to me -the counsels of truth and soberness. The Welsh are truly -a people, in spite of their ancient subjugation, and deserve to -be treated as such, all the more for their loyalty to the British -Crown, and for the remarkable partiality which they seem to -entertain towards the Prince of Wales, whose dignity I discovered -to be something more, after all, than a mere fiction of -heraldry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our drive home was full of beautiful views, and after descending -into the valley, we pursued our way through Llanerch -park, a fine estate, with which I was much pleased, although -the agreeable company into which I had fallen might have -made me satisfied with a scene far less lovely in itself. I spent -a long evening at Rhyllon, restrained from departing by their -kind importunities, and not unwilling to prolong a personal -interview which must necessarily be the last, as well as the -first, of what I could not but recognize as an enduring friendship. -Conversation very naturally turned upon the departed -glories of Rhyllon, as the nest of that tuneful nightingale, who -filled up a most brilliant era of British poesy, by the graceful -addition of a genuine female genius. I had always admired -Mrs. Hemans, chiefly because of her truly feminine muse; -because, in other words, her poetry is such as man can never -produce. Unlike others of her sisterhood, she seems to have -been unambitious of masculine effort, content to be her own -fair self, and to give utterance to the delicious sentiments, -the gushing affections, and the rapt enthusiasm which belong -to the heart of woman. Delightful songstress! it was happiness, -indeed, to linger for a moment in her charming abode, -and to gather from the conversation of those who had known -and loved her, such hints of her life and character as a delicate -fondness for her memory was not unwilling to drop in conversation, -for the benefit of a sincere admirer. It was all -the more valuable, too, as mingling with many personal -recollections of Bishop Heber, whose connections with St. -Asaph made him very frequently a guest at Rhyllon. It may -be imagined that I was loth to say farewell; but at last I -tore myself away with those pains of parting, which are the -penalty of a traveller’s friendships. The clock of the old -cathedral tolled eleven as I passed under its aged tower on my -return to the inn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the morning I rose early, and took a walk down the vale, -some two or three miles, to a secluded spot, where ancient piety -had erected a chapel over a fountain, and where it now stands -in one of the most picturesque piles of ruin I ever beheld. This -was a favorite haunt of Mrs. Hemans, and one to which she has -devoted some sweet verses. It goes, among the English, by the -title of “St. Mary’s Well,” but the Welsh call it <span class='it'>Pfynonver Capél</span>, -a very musical and pleasing name, as they pronounce it. There -it stands in a green mead, under the shade of a tufted hill, -enwound with ivy and covered with venerable moss; you enter -the door, and in the sacred floor you behold a pool of lucid -water, encompassed with an ancient kerb of stone, which preserves -all the grace of outline of the base of a massive column in -a Gothic cathedral. The old architect has shown, in this -peculiarity of his pool, a truly inventive genius. I am sure -the legends of the sacred spot must have been many and most -romantic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A hurried walk back to St. Asaph, concluded my sojourn in -the vale of Clwyd. Verily, “it is not in man that walketh to -direct his steps;” my plans in visiting this retired spot had all -been frustrated; but so happy a disappointment has seldom fallen -to my lot. The very slender enjoyment of puzzling mine host, -with surmises as to my mysterious errand, had been lost in one -of the richest pleasures of my life, and I went my way from a -place which I had sought a few hours before as containing -nobody to whom I could make myself known, feeling that -it would be dear to me till death, as the home of beloved -friends.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I continued my journey by railway towards the Menai Straits, -catching pleasant views by sea and land, especially those of -Abergele and Gwyrch Castle. At Conway I stopped for an hour -to survey the interesting ruins of its castle, into which the railroad -has made its way, piercing the ancient walls, after spanning the -river with a tubular bridge, and thus adding the utilitarian wonders -of modern architecture to the decaying splendours of the -mediæval builder. The castle is a mass of ruin within, but -retains all its external form and comeliness of tower and battlement. -It was built by Edward I., and was the scene of many -of the gayest revelries of his court, during the period in which he -forged the chains of the Principality. I found the descriptions -of my guide-book so literally correct, with respect to its present -condition, that I need only transcribe them. “The walls on all -sides are covered with a green drapery of luxuriant ivy, and a -meadow of grass lies in the open area of its courts. The warden’s -duty is supplied by a whole tribe of crows, whose solemn parley -is heard the instant that a stranger’s foot approaches, and the -towers are all alive with blackbirds, and birds of all colours, whose -notes resound the livelong day, throughout the deserted domain.” -From the summit of one of the towers I had a fine view of the -Conway, and of its widening entrance to the sea. A fisherman’s -boat, left on the sands by the receding tide, added to the spirit of -the scene, which in every respect was worthy of an artist’s study.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Welsh Scenery and Antiquities.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The railway between Conway and Bangor runs along the sea-shore, -close under the lee of the bold and rocky promontories, -that defy the waves, on this imperial coast. Often indeed we -found ourselves plunged into the black night of the tunnels which -become necessary, in many places, from the precipitous nature of -these cliffs, but, in general, I found even the distasteful confusion -of a railway train incompetent to detract much from the emotions -of sublimity inspired by the passage along such a shore. -On one side, the sea was foaming under us, and on the other -Penmaenmawr lifted its gigantic bulk to the clouds. Occasionally, -as at Aber, we passed a beautiful glen, descrying waterfalls -and other picturesque scenery; and by keeping a good look-out, -I had a full view of the cavern called Ogo, which opens to the -sea, high up in a calcareous cliff, with a mouth, singularly like -the arched entrance of a gothic minster. It is said to have -afforded a retreat, in ancient times, to the invading army of England. -At last, we descried the baronial towers of Penrhyn -Castle, beautifully situated, on the foundations of an old Welsh -palace, the fame of whose bold chiefs has, for ages, been the -theme of bardic eulogy in Wales; and soon after, we were set -down, at Bangor. It is a city in a vale, enclosed by an amphitheatre -of hills, and opening to the sea, with a fine view of the -Menai Straits, and of the very striking water-front of Beaumaris, -on the opposite shore of Anglesea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found the cathedral, though an important feature in a view -of the town, a very humble specimen of its class; and the service -which I attended, during a pouring rain, was indifferently -performed. I retreated to the finely-situated hotel on the straits, -and near the Menai Bridge, where, in the company of many -other disappointed tourists, I was forced to grumble away an -afternoon, from which I had expected no little pleasure. An -angry wind was chafing the surface of the Menai water, and the -little steamers, and other vessels, that went furiously by, were -the only objects to animate the otherwise gloomy spectacle, on -which I gazed listlessly, from the windows of the George Hotel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning, though with an unsettled sky, gave us better -weather, and I went forth to view the scenery, and to cross -the Menai Suspension-Bridge, which, though now eclipsed by its -neighbour, the far-famed Tubular, is to me much the more interesting -of the two, as really a beautiful specimen of art, and not -unworthy of the surrounding scenery. Crossing this bridge, and -finding on the other shore of Anglesea a little steamer, with a -load of Whitsuntide excursionists, going down to Caernarvon, I -lost no time in getting on board, and soon had the satisfaction of -passing under both the chain-bridge and the tube, and of realizing, -from that position, the immense height at which they overhang -the tides of the Menai. As creations of genius, they are -indeed sublime; and when a coach is seen creeping over the one, in -bigness as it were a fly; or when a railway train thunders through -the other, and yet seems in comparison with it a mere toy, as it -emerges and smokes along its way, one gets an idea of the immensity -of each conception, which invests mechanic art with something like -the attractive splendours of the painting and the poem. In the -evening, as the sun was near its setting, I surveyed the great tube -at my leisure, and walked over its roof, while a train was passing -under me. It was surprising to observe its untrembling strength, -and its security at so great a height, and with a span so vast: but -I was even more delighted with the views it afforded me, of the -glorious scenery, mountain and marine, with which it is encompassed. -They are singularly enriched with the charms of art and -nature. The shipping, the suspension-bridge, with its arches and -festoons; the towns of Beaumaris and Bangor; the tall column -of the Marquis of Anglesea, and many pleasant villages and seats, -as you look towards Caernarvon, afford a pleasing addition to the -richly wooded shores, the flowing waters, the indented line of -coast, the swelling hills, and last, but not least, the glorious succession -of peaks that stretch along the eastern background from -Snowdon, to the Great Orme’s Head, which rises like a wall from -the sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I must not forget my excursion to Caernarvon, through -these straits, which resemble so much the picturesque rivers of -my own land. Many objects of interest enlivened the trip; but -when, at last, the old walls of Caernarvon Castle rose before my -sight, in all their feudal grandeur and historic dignity, I felt like -one inspired with rapture, though not the less impressed with a -sense of something awful and august. The character of Edward -as a tyrant and a conqueror, seemed to stand before me in monumental -gloom and massive solemnity—and when I thought of -the feeble cries of the first Prince of Wales, as he came to light -in this stronghold of feudal tyranny, and coupled them with those -midnight shrieks, at Berkeley, on the Severn, in which his inglorious -life was extinguished, I realized afresh all those creeping -chills of terror, with which the wildest imagery of romance -affects the sensitive imagination of childhood. There it stood, -magnificently irregular in outline, frowning over the little town -beneath, like a coarse bully domineering over a timid boy. Its -towers are really stupendous, and the aspiring parapets and embattled -turrets, that bristle up from their grim summit, make a -strangely confused, but self-consistent figure, against the mountain -back-ground, or the clear blue sky overhead. With such a -fortress in full sight, it was most thrilling to give its history a -mental review. Piled there by a cruel conqueror, to overawe -the Welsh people, six hundred years ago, it seems less terrible -with regard to them, than with reference to the story of his -Queen, and his child. Such a nest for a new-made mother, and -her babe! In the depth of winter, the stern husband sent Queen -Eleanor here, to give birth to her child. In one of its most -gloomy recesses the royal infant was born; and thus the insulting -victor was enabled to continue the sovereignty of Wales, in his -own family, while literally fulfilling his pledge, to give the Welsh -a prince—born in their own country, who could speak no English, -and whose character was without fault! Such a sovereign -they had promised to accept, and to obey; and hence the title -of the eldest son of British sovereigns ever since. Thus, what -is morally a mean and knavish fraud, is clothed, in historic narrative, -with the glory of a warlike stratagem, and survives in imperial -heraldry as if there were no truth in the saying of the -poet, that the herald’s art can never “blazon evil deeds, or consecrate -a crime.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was not altogether fortunate in my holiday, for the weather -was alternating, continually, between shower and sunshine, and -when I was fairly on the top of a stage-coach, for Llanberis, I -found, to my sorrow, that shower was about to predominate for a -time. However, to Llanberis I went, reserving a close inspection -of the castle to my return. At intervals, I could get some idea -of the loveliness of that charming lake, and of the wild glories -of its surrounding scenery; but ill-luck prevailed, and Snowdon -wore his cap of clouds, nearly all the time, and I was forced to -retire at last, somewhat surly with disappointment. I visited, -however, the ruins of Dolbardan Castle, the central fortress of a -chain of similar muniments, by which the ancient clans of Wales -endeavoured to secure these mountain passes against the invaders. -It stands, in picturesque dignity, upon the peninsula, which divides -the waters of Llanberis into twin lakes, and is apparently -the guardian of both. Here some Welsh lads, with a donkey, -were sheltering themselves from the rain, and, by dint of much -entreaty, and a very tempting appliance of money, I gained from -them a Welsh song, which growing somewhat animated as they -proceeded, cheered up the sombre scene, and gave to those antiquated -ruins a moment’s restoration of the echoes of minstrelsy, -and of the musical tongue with which they resounded of yore, in -peace and war, when the figures of bards and heroes were the -familiar tenants of the spot. As I returned to Caernarvon, the -rain began to abate, and gradually the clouds withdrew, to my -great satisfaction. The castle again rose before me, reviving the -impressions with which I had first beheld it, but less stern, perhaps, -from the land side, than when beheld from the sea. I was -soon beneath its walls, which I first surveyed, in circuit, with increased -astonishment and pleasure. The materials for this vast -structure are said to have been furnished, in part, by the ruins of -Segontium, the neighbouring station of the ancient Roman army; -but the feudal character now impressed on the old stones is, to -me, far more interesting than their primitive history. The eagle-tower, -in which the young Prince is said to have been born, is -itself a fortress of massive solidity, and presents to the waters a -front of bold defiance; while on the other side, now blocked up -and forlorn of aspect, beneath a lofty arch, is the gate, by which -the expectant mother entered the gloomy hold, and which still -goes by her name. The remains of a moat and drawbridge are -visible, and so are the grooves in which the iron-toothed portcullis -once rose and fell. I entered by a gate which looks toward the -town, and over which is sculptured a rude effigy of the royal -builder, deeply scarred by time. Within, the huge walls appear -as an empty shell; they rise, like those of the great Roman -amphitheatre, around an area of desolation. Here and there, indeed, -are the remains of state apartments, and of royal chambers, -still marked by delicate architectural tracery and handsome enrichment; -but you tread on hillocks and grassy verdure, which -swell above their buried splendours, and everywhere the ruin -appears absolute and complete. By time-worn and dangerous -stairways of stone, you wind up to the summits of the towers, -and your guide constantly cautions you to beware of slipping, or -of setting foot upon treacherous places. To me, the greatest interest -was presented by the narrow corridors, which run between -the inner and outer walls of the entire circuit, lighted only by -the loop-holes, through which the signal horn was once sounded, -and the arrow shot forth, and which open into embrasures that -were filled of yore with armed men. Here is the projecting -battlement, by which they protected the gateway below, its -floor is perforated for the discharge of missiles, and to enable the -defenders of the castle to pour down scalding water, and melted -lead, upon the heads of its assailants. In perambulating these -gloomy recesses, I gained distinct ideas of mediæval life and warfare, -from which my knowledge of history, such as it is, received -a vast augmentation of freshness and reality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dismissing my guide, I sat down on the summit of the eagle-tower -and lost myself in revery. The daws, chattering amid the -battlements, alone interrupted the solemn stillness of the moment. -Before me was Snowdon, now disrobed of the clouds he had worn -through the day, and lifting a bald crown of snow to the skies. -The serried outline of his dependant mountains beautifully varied -the scenes toward which they stretched away on every side. I -turned, and there was the broad glare of the descending sun upon -the sea: I was looking towards my own dear home. In the -midst of meditative pleasures, I longed for the companionship of -many, between whom and me there rolled a thousand leagues of -ocean; and, for awhile I forgot, in the melancholy of that reflection, -the romantic impressions which are peculiar to the spot. -When I recovered my thoughts, it was only to feel more forcibly -the solemnity of the short life, in which we stand between so -dread a past, and so momentous a future; and before I descended -from that lofty station, I knelt and worshipped Him who, alone, -is Everlasting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The weather increased in serenity as the day declined. I heard -the clatter of hoofs, and a coach-horn sounding in the streets, -and hastily took my seat, for a drive to Bangor, relinquishing a -projected tour through Beddgelert and Tremadoc, which I had -found impracticable, with reference to other plans. My drive in -return was not less agreeable than my sail in coming. Everywhere -the scene was beautiful, and I was amused with the chatter -of a couple of Welsh peasant women, in short petticoats and -men’s hats, who had mounted the coach-top and sat by my side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We had bright moonlight that evening, on the waters of the -Menai, and a band amused us, with music, in the grounds of the -hotel. I was agreeably surprised to hear, in close connection with -the national air of England, the sprightly strain of “Hail Columbia,” -which, however inferior as a musical composition, had a -strong power over me, as I heard it then, and I breathed a warm -aspiration to God for a blessing on my native land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were favoured with a glorious morning, and I took stage-coach, -soon after breakfast, for a drive through North Wales. -After whirling through the suburbs of Bangor, and traversing -the “Bethesda slate-quarries,” we entered the terrific pass of -Nant Ffrancon. On a reduced scale, the scenery here is quite -Swiss. The rains had swelled the mountain torrents, and everywhere -they were leaping down the steeps, in beautiful threads of -silver, which terminated in fine cascades. The road wound along -the side of a mountain, with a deep descent beneath; and there -was spread out a broad green valley, level as a floor, with a river -winding through, and the figure of an angler stalking along its -bank. On the further side of the vale rose another mountain, -abruptly, to the skies. I was reminded of Nant Ffrancon afterwards, -in the Swiss Oberland, after crossing the Brunig into the -Vale of Meyringen, as I was making my way towards Interlachen. -These Welsh Alps are indeed destitute of snowy tops and -descending glaciers. Yet they are full of sublime features; and -the flocks which climb their sides, with fleeces of milky whiteness, -give a pastoral air to the solitude, which subdues the otherwise -repulsive aspect of some of their features.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is vain for me to attempt a minute description of the pleasures -of this day’s drive. The scenery was richly varied, and -after seeing the finest scenery of Savoy, and of the Swiss Cantons, -I still recall it with satisfaction, and long to go through it -once more. Our way lay along the skirts of the dreary Lake -Ogwen, and then over its desolate heath; from which our emerging -into the enchanting Yale of Capel Curig, was like turning -from a page of Dante’s Inferno to a passage in his description of -Paradise. Here majesty and loveliness indeed combine, in the -sweet diversity of woods and waters, and vales and mountains, to -furnish an ideal of natural beauty, which might satisfy a poet or -a painter. Amid all, rises the glorious summit of old Snowdon, -of which I obtained my finest impressions from this spot. The -scenery of the river Swallow, by which our way continued, is -marvellously picturesque, and its waterfall is admirable, even to -the eye of an American. Near Bettws-y-coed, the panorama -assumed a more pastoral character, and gave us a glimpse into -the Vale of Llanrwst; and then, for a long time, every turn -opened new scenes of beauty and delight. At Cerrig-y-Druddion, -if the scenery was distasteful again, not so were the trout from -the mountain streams, on which I made a delicious repast. It -was from this place, to which the poor prince had made good his -retreat, that the primitive Caradoc, with his family, were carried -prisoners to Rome, where he made that famous speech, which is -the memorial of his name. Through various scenes of interest, -which I might be more willing to enumerate, were only their names -pronounceable, I reached Corwen, where was the hold of Glendower, -and where, in the ancient Church, I visited the tomb -inscribed <span class='it'>Jorwerth, Vicarius de Corvaen Ora pro eo</span>. At the inn -sat an old blind Welshman, playing the Welsh harp, and soliciting -charity, which, for Homer’s sake, no one could refuse. -Thenceforward the scenery again increased in interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Vale of Edeyrnion opened into our view as we continued -our journey along the windings of the beautiful outlet of the -Bala Lake, and from hence to Llangollen, beauty, rather than -grandeur, was characteristic of the scenery. But no every-day -sort of beauty is to be imagined when I speak of this charming region, -at which it was a feast to look, even for a moment. The -swells and slopes of the land; the variety of the foliage; the -graceful curves of the river-banks; and the outlines of the -mountainous distance, with the hues which various tillage, and -crops, gave to the meadows and the upland, were continual -sources of delight, in which there was no monotony, and no surfeit. -Nothing was wanting, but only the kindling eye of some -enraptured friend to meet my own, and a voice to say with mine, -“This indeed is a paradise!” Such would be the exclamation -of any admirer of natural scenery, at the point where the ruinous -pile of the Abbey of Valle Crucis lifts into view the arch -and tracery of its great East window, amid the harmonious -boughs and verdure of gigantic trees. It is a favourite view -with painters, and has become familiar from the efforts of both -pencil and burin. Scarcely less so is the conical hill, which -overhangs Llangollen, and on the summit of which some remnants -of wall that serve to give a very picturesque completeness to its -outline, retain the name of Castell Dinas Bran, with the reputation -of a primeval British work. At Llangollen, a handsome -bridge, which spans the river Dee, blends with the prospect of -the town in pleasing proportion. I climbed a little eminence, -and broke through a sort of copse, into the pleasant grounds of -Plas Newydd, the famous retreat of two eccentric ladies, who, -not quite a hundred years ago, while Llangollen was yet unsung -and unknown, became recluses of the Vale, and lived here in -philosophical contempt of the world, and in ardent communion -with nature. They both rest in the parish churchyard, where -one stone records their several dates, and those of an humble girl, -who was long their faithful servant. As they were persons who -had figured in the gay world, their story has become a sort of -local tradition, which is always repeated with respect; and portraits -of Miss Ponsonby and Lady Eleanor Butler, in full Welsh -costume, are sold in the shops, and hung up at the inn. I could -not greatly admire their cottage; but it was, no doubt, quite snug, -and pretty enough for two old ladies that were of a mind to be -philosophers.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>The Wye and the Severn—Bristol and Wells.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day found me again ascending the Malvern hills, on -a coach-top, the guard playing the merriest notes, upon his horn, -as we rapidly trotted through the town. After another view of -the vale of Gloucester, we turned into Herefordshire, and descended -into the valley that spreads from the western slope of -the Malverns. We had fine views of Edensor, the estate of -Lord Somers, and of a monumental column, upon the crown of a -hill. I was glad, too, to see on the roadside, marking some -parochial boundary, a stone cross, such as is frequent on the Continent, -and might, without any evil, be a familiar object in any -Christian country. As we approached Ledbury, we met a band -of gipsies in their proverbial rags and wretchedness, skulking -along the road, and exhibiting very few of those bewitching -peculiarities of appearance with which painters and romancers -are fond of investing them. I had never met them before, and -was sorry not to be able to stop and talk with them. An impression -of awe haunted me for some time as I meditated upon -their mysterious barbarism, and tried to recall the glimpse of -their weird features, which I had caught as they passed by. I -never saw any of their kind, on any other occasion afterwards, -and think they must be growing scarce, even in England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Ledbury I was particularly struck with an outside view of -the parish Church, which is but one of a thousand churches in -England which of themselves are enough to reward a traveller for -journeying through it. Sir Walter Scott has justly awarded to -them the credit of being the most beautiful temples in the world, -and the most becoming for their holy purposes. Our next stage -brought us to Ross so famous for the memory of John Kyrle and his -beneficent deeds. Its “heaven-directed spire” surmounts the hill, -on which the town is built; and every where, in Ross, the traces -of his good works, as well as many of the works themselves, -survive to consecrate his name. The house in which he dwelt is -adorned with a medallion portrait of “the man of Ross,” sunk in -the wall, and visible to every passenger. He was indeed all -that the poet has made him in descriptive verse; and he was -something more, for he was a zealous Churchman, and a faithful -attendant upon the daily service. I made my way to the Church, -and was pleased to find its churchyard cross entire, and a cross -upon its gable. The interior, though very old fashioned, was -adorned with flowers, in honour of Pentecost, and its monuments -are many and curious. Among them was one of those altar-tombs, -on which lie at full length a knight and his sweet dame, -the latter with her delicate hand held in his rough grasp, as if their -union were inseparable by death itself. I was deeply touched -by such a memorial of love, which we must believe to have been -sincere, and to which fancy attributes all that is constant on the -part of the lady, and all that is chivalrous on the part of her -lord. But where is the monument of Kyrle? There is a bust -and an inscription, but his monument, like Christopher Wren’s, is -the Church itself; for he built its spire, and something more -beside. There is a story, too, that when the bells were cast, he -was present, and threw into the melting metal a silver tankard, -from which he and the workmen had just drunk to the king’s -health. As I was passing round, the sexton said to me, “you -shall now see something that you never saw before,” and he -pointed out a couple of elm trees, growing in the Church, and -reaching to the roof. What is the more remarkable, they are -growing in the pew where the Man of Ross was accustomed to -worship, as if to testify the fidelity of God to the promise—“He -shall be like a tree, planted by the water-side, his leaf also shall -not wither.” One would almost believe that they must have -been planted on purpose, but the truth is rather the reverse. -They are in fact the fruit of Kyrle’s own planting; for he set a -row of elms in the churchyard, which were cut down by a churlish -vicar, but from which these shoots have sprung up in the -house of God, as it were in silent remonstrance. It is hard not -to see something providential in the coincidence, by which, what -would be a curiosity anywhere, is thus connected with the blessed -example of one of the most benevolent and virtuous of mankind. -The trees screen one of the windows, and appear to thrive in the -climate of the sanctuary, their leaves putting forth earlier, and -falling later than those of the trees in the churchyard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A fair was going on in the town, and the streets were filled -with the peasantry. Everywhere pedlars were setting forth the -merits of their wares, and among them was a fellow bawling—“Here’s -the last dying speech and confession, &c.”—as he exhibited -the doleful print of a gallows and its dangling victim. -Such incidents are not rarely met in the narratives of a certain -class of novelists, and I have certainly read, somewhere, of just -such a market-day as I encountered at Ross. I walked slowly -down the hill into the valley of the Wye, turning constantly to -observe the fine situation of the town, till the coach overtook -me. The country here is rich but simply pretty, and as yet it -revealed none of the glories for which the Wye is celebrated. -Goodrich Court, a modern mansion, is a fine object, however, -and the remains of Goodrich Castle are an imposing feature in -the scene; and all the more so for its association with the -cavaliers, from whom it was finally taken by Cromwell, and -reduced to ruins. As you enter Monmouthshire, a glorious -view begins to open, and from about this point the scenery of the -river increases in wildness and grandeur. I was, at first, at a -loss to know why Wordsworth should have called the Wye sylvan, -for such was far from being its character, in Herefordshire; but -now the entire appropriateness of the epithet was disclosed, and -yet I am well aware that I lost many of the finest features of -the stream by not descending it in a boat. With Monmouth -itself, I was somewhat disappointed, its Church having suffered -many things of many churchwardens, and the remains of the -priory, where Henry the Fifth was born, having become incorporated -with the modern walls of a boarding-school. I left -Monmouth with gratitude to Fluellyn for his idea of its wondrous -resemblance to Macedon, which I should not have imagined, had -he not helped the world to it. The glories of the scenery round -St. Briavel’s and near the tiny little Church at Llandogo, should -have had the further benefit of his minute and luminous descriptive -powers, as I can liken it to nothing else in the world but -itself, for its combination of simply rural features, with those -which are highly picturesque. An American is struck with the -charm imparted to such scenery, by a pretty church or a neat -and secluded hamlet, quite as much as he is impressed by the -scenery itself; and I was often led to think what the valley of the -Mohawk might be, had it the advantage of that still retirement, -and of those Arcadian groves, which impart a peculiar effect to -the sterner beauties of the Wye. At Tintern Parva we were -shown the ancestral habitation of Fielding, and passed a new -church which was well worthy of note. But the neighbourhood -of Tintern Abbey eclipsed every other thought, and I strained -my sight for the earliest possible glimpse of the delightful vision. -A storm which had been threatening, broke upon us, unfortunately, -at the critical point, and I first beheld that magnificent ruin in -circumstances which increased its desolation. In spite of the -rain, however, I embraced an opportunity of entering its walls -and surveying it for a few moments, amid the wild confusion of -the elements. The rain dashing through its rich but broken -tracery, and the wind tossing the gorgeous drapery of its mantling -ivy, with the melancholy sighs it gave amid the columns, and -along the aisles, deepened the solemn impression of the spot, and -gave a heightened interest to the thoughts of its former sacred uses, -when it resounded with the chant of priests and the swells of -music from the organ. As I purposed a more leisurely visit in -fairer weather, I was willing to have seen it thus amid storm and -tempest. I resumed my journey to Chepstow; and as the storm -soon abated, and was succeeded by sunshine, I had many fine -views of the windings of the river, some of which are very bold, -sweeping, amid precipitous banks, crowned with the richest -foliage and verdure. Chepstow itself has many beauties, as seen -from the Wye, and after slightly surveying the town and castle, -I crossed the iron bridge, and drove to Tidenham, where a kind -welcome awaited me at the vicarage, from one with whom I had -corresponded long before I left America. I was sorry, however, -to find myself a source of disappointment to the children -of my kind entertainers, who had been unable to divest themselves, -notwithstanding the benevolent dissuasions of their parents, -of the romantic idea that the American visitor would present -himself in aboriginal costume, and contribute to their amusement -by exhibiting his red visage, and lending them his bow and arrows. -Their father is now a Missionary Bishop, in Africa.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This vicarage is of modern erection, but in very good ecclesiastical -style, and has a pretty garden, in which I saw my amiable -friend the vicar taking the air, when I rose in the morning. I -was glad that so pleasant an abode had fallen to the lot of so good -a man. After breakfast, while he visited his poor and sick, I -went on a little pony, with a servant at my side, to Cockshoot -Hill, which looks down upon the Wye nearly opposite the Windcliff. -Tidenham itself stands on a narrow peninsula, with the -Wye on one side, and the broad Severn on the other, and just -below Cockshoot Hill this peninsula forces the river Wye to -make an extraordinary bend beneath its precipitous banks, on -which stands the pretty hamlet of Llancaut. The view, at this -point, is therefore peculiarly fine, and affords, in one spot called -“Double-view,” the unusual spectacle of both rivers—the Wye, -with its sylvan charms on one hand, and the expanse of the -Severn, with its ships and steamers, on the other. I was best -pleased with the Wye, the Windcliff, the projecting rocks called -the Twelve Apostles, and the entire scene on that side, as far as -the eye could stretch, above and below. The farms and fruit-trees -of the peninsula were also pleasing in their way, and the more -so, because it was now the season of blossoms, and every breeze -was fragrant. My return was enlivened by views of the Severn, -which were often much heightened in effect by the turns of the -road, and the openings amid thick trees, through which I descried -them; and I was gratified to be joined by a labouring man, who -insisted on walking with us, and pointing out favourite prospects, -apparently not so much in hopes of a fee, as to testify his regard -for a guest of the vicar, of whom he spoke in unbounded terms -of respect, as the blessing of the country round. I found the -Church opened, and service going on: and when it was over, was -informed by the vicar himself of the various merits of the sacred -place as an architectural specimen. The font was an ancient -Norman one, of lead, and is regarded as curious. So are the -windows, which exhibit a semi-flamboyant tracery, by no means -common. A gradual restoration is going on, at the expense of -the vicar and his personal friends; but I was amused by the -white-washed tower, which remains thus disfigured, while the rest -of the Church has been reduced to its natural color. It seems -that this white tower has long been a landmark of the Severn, -and serves a useful purpose, in the piloting of vessels. With an -interference which would strike us Americans as very arbitrary, -the Government, therefore, forbade that the tower of Tidenham -Church should be made to look any less like a whited sepulchre; -and so it stands, as a pillar of salt, to this day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rest of the day was devoted to an excursion to Tintern, -to which the ladies contributed their agreeable society. The -party proved a very cheerful one, and we encountered scarcely -any fatigue of which our fairer associates did not bear their full -share. In surveying the remains of Chepstow castle, only, were -we without their company. I found it a noble ruin, even after -my visit to Caernarvon. It was reduced to ruin by Cromwell, -after a desperate fight, but one of its towers was long afterwards—for -twenty years—the prison of Henry Marten, the regicide. -It must once have been a splendid hold of feudalism, -and its halls and windows still retain many traces of the Saxon -and Norman richness of its original beauty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We climbed the Windcliff, and thence surveyed the combined -glories of land, and sea, and of inland stream, which are its peculiar -charm. Where else can be seen such a prospect: such inland -river scenery, blended with the view of a broad arm of ocean, -side by side, and apparently not united? It would be vain for -me to attempt description, but I found it all I could ask; and on -that breezy height recalled to mind those incomparable lines of -Wordsworth, composed upon the spot or near it, in which he -exhorts the lover of Nature to store up such scenes in memory, -and thus make “the mind a mansion for all lovely forms.” -There are caves below, through which one of my female friends -led me like a Sybil; and then I went under her kind escort -through a wild American-like wood, to rejoin our carriage. Two -miles more of delightful scenery, and I stood again in Tintern -Abbey, and wandered through its holy aisles, and climbed to its -venerable summit. Here, over the lofty arches of the transept, I -walked, as in a path through a wood, the shrubbery growing -wildly on both sides, as on the brow of a natural cliff. White -roses flourish there in abundance; and it is only at intervals that -you can get a glimpse of the Abbey-floor beneath. Around you -is a beautiful prospect of the river, and of an amphitheatre of -hills; and when you stand in the aisles below, and view these -same hills through the broken windows, you feel that they should -never have been glazed, except with transparent glass. On the -whole, when the beauty of its situation is fully taken into consideration, -in addition to the original graces of its architecture,—its -graceful pillars, its aerial arches, its gorgeous windows,—and -when we observe the fond effect with which nature has clothed -the pile in verdure, as if resuming her power with tenderness, -and striving to repair the decays of art, with her own triumphant -creations; when all these, and other attractions which cannot be -enumerated in description, are united in the estimate, I cannot -but give to Tintern Abbey the credit of being the fairest sight, of -its kind, which ever filled my vision. I have since seen many -similar objects, combining architectural beauties with those of -nature, but were I allowed to choose one more glimpse of such a -picture, among all, I think I should say to the enchanter—“let -me have another look at Tintern.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Crossing the broad mouth of the Severn, in a little steamer, -we entered the Avon, of a fine afternoon, just as a fleet of similar -steamers, taking the tide at flood, were hurrying out to sea. It -was a most animating sight, as one after another chased by—this -for London, that for Dublin, another for Glasgow, and so on; all -flaunting the red cross of St. George, and displaying a full company -on deck. I was agreeably surprised by the beauty of this -river, which is varied by woods and cliffs, and many striking -objects, among which a little ruinous chapel, upon a verdant -peninsula, particularly struck me, and the more so, as having -been formerly used by fishermen, before going upon their voyages -in the channel, as a place of prayer for protection and success. -But this river has an historical claim upon the affectionate regard -of America, as having sent forth two expeditions to our shores, -of the greatest consequence to our whole continent. Upon these -waters crept forth to sea, in 1497, the little “Matthew,” on -whose deck stood Sebastian Cabot, “uncovering his fine Venetian -head” to take a last farewell of his native city, as he boldly -stood out to the ocean in search of the New World. Upon that -expedition depended the discovery of the mainland of America, -and the occupation of the northern half by the Anglo-Saxon race. -To this glorious reminiscence has been added the fine contrast -presented by the “Great Western,” as she launched forth, in this -same river, only a few years ago, in her majestic strength, to -inaugurate a new era in the art of navigation, and to unite the -Old World and the New by bonds of intercommunication, which -imagination itself had never ventured to portray in their present -stage of wonderful development. “Upon no waters,” says a -popular writer, “save those of the winding Avon, have two such -splendid adventures as these been enterprized.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Passing under the heights of Clifton, and landing in Cumberland -basin, I climbed the steep, took my lodgings at Clifton, and -then went on foot into Bristol, over Brandon-hill, enjoying the -magnificent panorama which unfolds on every side, and comprehends -the finest features of town and country, of water and of -land. My first thought was the famous Church of St. Mary -Redcliffe, and thither I took my way. The poetry of Chatterton -was the delight of my boyhood, and this Church I had long desired -to see. I found it undergoing restoration, but not the less -open to inspection. It is indeed a masterpiece of architecture; its -clustered pillars, and the fan-like spread of its vaulting, with its -fourfold aisles, and rich quatrefoil windows, affording the keenest -satisfaction to the artist, and affecting every man of taste with -overwhelming emotions of religion, which may well be made -salutary to the soul. Here are some pictures by Hogarth, of a -character superior to his general efforts; one of which, representing -“the Ascension of our Lord,” shows him to have possessed -fine sensibilities, and a delicate appreciation of the more poetical -provinces of his art. The monument of “Master Canynge,” the -Mayor, who figures so richly in the “Bristowe tragedy,” attracted -my profound attention, as did also several others less mentionable, -though very interesting. Of Chatterton himself, no monument -is to be seen, save the old muniment-room, and the chests, -from which he fished his bold idea. The monument, which was -erected a few years since to his memory, has for some reason been -removed, and now lies dishonoured in the crypt. It is impossible -to think of that marvellous boy without pity, in spite of his moral -delinquencies; and I can scarcely read the ballad of Charles -Bawdin without tears, excited as much by the fate of its author, -as of its hero. His moral perceptions must have been of a fine -cast, or he never could have conceived that poem; and who -would not choose to believe that had he encountered mercy and -loving-kindness from those who ought to have befriended him, his -splendid genius might have been made a rich blessing to himself -and to the world?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the solemn twilight was coming on, I visited the cathedral. -I had not promised myself much from such a visit, for ’tis a mutilated -pile, of which the entire nave is lacking. Yet, whether -it was the effect of the dim and dying daylight, or whether the -architecture and the sepulchral charms of the holy place overpowered -me, I left it with the profoundest impressions of awe -and tender emotion. The old Norman Chapter-house is an architectural -gem, with its intersecting arcades, its rich diapering, -and nail-head ornaments, its twisted mouldings, and spiral -columns, and the zig-zag groinings of its roof. In the vestry I -was shown a curious Saxon carving of Christ saving a soul. My -attention was also directed, by the sub-sacrist who attended me, -to the ruins of the Bishop’s palace, which fell under the violence -of the mob, in 1831, when good Bishop Gray so beautifully -distinguished himself and his Order, by exhibiting an apostolic -harmony of meekness and resolution. But it was in walking the -aisles of the cathedral itself, under the deepening shadows of the -evening, that I experienced the full effects which such a place -should inspire. From the old and decaying monuments of knights -and their dames, I passed with elevated feeling to the modern -achievements of Bacon and of Chantry. A kneeling female -figure, reflecting the faint light from its pale features and white -drapery, and standing out of the darkness, like a pure soul emerging -from the valley of the shadow of death, gave me a sensation -of unspeakable reverence. Hard by, a chequered day-beam -played on the fine outline of a bust of Robert Southey, and this -apparition also affected me; but when I came to the little tablet -which marks the grave of Mrs. Mason, and spelt out, word by -word, the incomparable tribute of conjugal love which it bears, -I was overwhelmed; and as I read (I am not ashamed to own it) -my tears dropped upon the marble floor. There was barely daylight -enough for the effort, but I had known the poem from my -earliest childhood, and possibly to this fact I must attribute its -overpowering effect upon my feelings. It is to be condemned -perhaps as an epitaph; but who can think of criticism when -borne along on such a tide of heavenly affection and triumphant -faith? I trembled to think I was standing upon the relics of so -much loveliness and purity.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Take, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She must have been an angel, to have inspired so much feeling -as agony has compressed into that one line! and then, what an -image of more than mortal beauty rises before us as we read—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Speak, dead Maria! breathe a strain divine,</p> -<p class='line0'> Even from the grave thou shalt have power to charm.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And did ever love paint such a portrait, in a few touches of -passionate apostrophe, as in those in which the heart of her husband -speaks on?</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee;</p> -<p class='line0'>   Bid them in duty’s sphere as meekly move!</p> -<p class='line0'> And, <span class='it'>if as fair, from vanity as free</span>;</p> -<p class='line0'>   As firm in friendship, and <span class='it'>as fond in love</span>!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Never was the glory of true female character so enshrined in -language before; but this is not all! The ideal of the Christian -woman is brought out in its completeness in what follows:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Tell them—though ’tis an awful thing to die,</p> -<p class='line0'> ——’Twas <span class='it'>even to thee</span>!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Here is the tender form, and timid step, with all the heroism of -the female saint, descending into the dark valley: and at the -same time here is the transcendent tribute—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>’Twas <span class='it'>even to thee</span>!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And now comes triumphant faith:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>   ——“Yet that dread path once trod,</p> -<p class='line0'>Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And bids the pure in heart behold their God.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>I am probably failing in my desire to carry my reader along with -me in my own conception of the exceeding merit of these verses, -as embodying some of the sublimest, and some of the tenderest -affections of the regenerate heart, with the smallest possible sacrifice -of that eloquence which is generally mute, in proportion -to its expressiveness: but I cannot deny myself the pleasure of -recording the fact, that their power over my own feelings, as I -read them on the spot, and in the circumstances which I have -hinted, was such as beggars description.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A moonlight ramble on the heights of Clifton, and another in -the early morning, next day, concluded my rapid visit to this -region; and I took the top of the coach soon after to the city of -Wells. This little journey over the Mendip hills, which gave me -frequent opportunities for walking, was enlivened by the conversation -of a sharp-featured little dissenting minister, who volunteered -his opinions upon all subjects, and who seemed peculiarly anxious -to give me his own opinions of the clergy of the Church. “There -are,” said he, with an oracular look, and the keen expression of -a desire to know how the fact might strike me, “there are 18,000 -Church clergymen in England: of these, there may possibly be -4,000 who are in different degrees evangelical; 4,000 are vicious -and idle; and 10,000, including all the young clergy, are <span class='it'>Puseyites</span>, -who neither know how to teach the Gospel, nor what the Gospel -is!” He thought there was no prospect of any disruption between -Church and State; and, at last, whispered in my ear, that -he had serious thoughts of emigrating to America. I was amazed -at this little man’s utterly unconscious lack of Christian -charity. Of the 10,000 clergy whom he thus denounced in -the gross, as evil-minded men, I had myself been for weeks closely -associated with many, in whom I had seen exemplified every -Christian grace, and from whom I had gathered lessons of practical -piety, for which I had reason to bless God. For patience in -tribulation, and for pastoral fidelity; for lives devoted to the good -of men, and fervent with zeal for the glory of God, I had never -seen their equals; and now, to hear them stigmatized in a manner -so cool and professional, by one who soon betrayed his personal -animosity by adding—“and us, dissenting preachers, they treat as -a race of upstart tinkers”—made me lament for poor human -nature and its deceitful workings even in good men’s hearts! I -consoled my friend by hinting that, in America, the Presbyterian -and Congregational pastors had long professed a somewhat similar -contempt for the clergy of the Church, having for nearly two -centuries been the religious chieftains of our country; but I ventured -to intimate that we did not on that account feel the less -respect for ourselves, or think it right to deny them the credit of -many estimable qualities, and the right of being judged by Him -who alone searcheth the heart. I believe it was after this, that -the worthy man proposed adding himself to our population; a -scheme in which I could not discourage him, convinced, as I was, -that a taste of our religious condition might perhaps change his -views as to the comparative evils of the English Church, and -those of the Saturnalia of unbelief which are fast developing under -the influences of our illimitable sectarianism.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Glastonbury—Wells—The Jubilee.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found in the ruins of the abbey at Glastonbury a full reward -for my efforts to pay them a visit. The architecture of -these ruins is of a character widely different from that of Tintern; -and the surrounding scenery, though marked by one bold eminence -called the Tor, is that of a fat agricultural region, wholly -unlike the romantic valley of the Wye. Yet the old wattled -church of the early Britons which once stood here; the tradition -that Joseph of Arimathea proclaimed the gospel on this spot; the -legendary interest that attaches to the memory of St. Dunstan, -and the superb remains of what was once the richest monastery -in the kingdom, invest the now silent precincts of the Abbey -with peculiar charms. The chapel called St. Joseph’s is still an -exquisite specimen of art, and in its crypt is a spring reputed to -derive extraordinary virtues from some association with his visit. -A huge stone coffin, lying empty and dishonoured in the aisle of -the Abbey Church, was shown to me as having once contained -the corpse of King Arthur. Here again was the figure of an old -abbot; and as I strode over the clovered floor of the holy place, -amid broken corbels and shattered columns, I found an artist -seated among them, at his task, sketching the beautiful remnant -of an old turret, which rises amid the surrounding wreck, -almost the only uninjured memorial of the former glory of the -pile. At a distance, which gives one an idea of the great extent -of the old establishment, stands the kitchen of the monastery -still entire. It is an octagon, of vast circumference, and contains -several curious relics of the Abbey. I next visited St. Benedict’s -Church, which disputes with several others the claim of being the -oldest in the kingdom; and so, taking a post-chaise, drove back -to Wells, after a due reverence to the celebrated thorn which is -said to be the lineal successor of St. Joseph’s walking-stick, and -which blooms every year, at Christmas as well as in the early -summer. Of its blossoming at Christmas, or Epiphany, I suppose -there can be no doubt. I was assured, on the spot, that -such was the case. King Charles used to make merry with the -papists by calling their attention to the fact that it refused to -observe the Gregorian Calendar; and when, in 1752, New Style -was introduced into England, some two thousand of the neighbouring -peasantry assembled to watch this thorn on Christmas-eve, -who, when they found it stubbornly postponing its homage, -but punctually putting forth blossoms at Old Christmas, as -usual, refused to recognize the novelty, and kept their holidays -accordingly. It must be supposed, therefore, that Twelfth day -is the real festival which it honours with its strange efflorescence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cathedral of Wells struck me as surpassing all that I had -yet seen, in its way. The exterior view is fine, and the front is -enriched with the most lavish display of sculpture, kings, queens, -and saints, each in an embellished niche, and all together conveying -a most gorgeous impression to the beholder. But the interior -was far more impressive. Its nave was fitted with a pulpit and -benches, and had the appearance of being used and frequented. -But the choir and Lady-chapel were in process of restoration, on -a magnificent scale, and appeared, indeed, quite new. Here was -a modern work, not inferior to the old: and when I observed the -rich effect of the creamy Caen stone, contrasted with the dark -and polished pillars of Purbeck marble, and marked the effective -introduction of colours and gilding, amid the delicate foliations -and tracery of stalls and tombs, then, first, I understood what -must have been the magnificence of these cathedrals, when new -and entire! It was pleasing to see such proof that the Church -is still instinct with all the spirit of mediæval taste, under the -influences of restored purity of religion; and that all the cunning -of Bezaleel can be still employed by our reformed ritual, -though the craft of Demetrius, in making shrines for idolatrous -services, is no longer required.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I will not weary my reader with the numerous details of this -glorious pile, nor with those of the Bishop’s palace, its moat and -drawbridge; nor yet with memories of the blessed Bishop Ken, -which still linger in fragrance about these holy places: but I -must observe, that the present Bishop has done a good work in -restoring to his cathedral the important feature of a theological -school. In his palace is their chapel, a most appropriate one; -and as I went through the cathedral, it was pleasant to see several -students in their gowns, lingering here and there in the aisles, -and vanishing and re-appearing amid the columns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A romantic drive from Wells, full of interesting views, brought -me to Bath. Here, too, was much to see; but its Abbey is a -poor object after Wells, and the town of Beau Nash need not -long detain an ecclesiastic. I left, in the night, for Berkshire; -and next day, which was Sunday, was present at an Ordination, -held at Bradfield Church, by the Bishop of Oxford. The Church, -and neighbouring College, at which I was a guest, are well -worthy of description; but I have only space to add, that the -ceremonial of Ordination differed from our own only in the minute -particulars of the oath of supremacy, and in the Bishop’s -sitting in his chair while administering the imposition of hands. -Thirteen priests, and a larger number of deacons, were admitted -to Orders. The preacher was the estimable Sir George Prevost; -and at Evening Prayer, I had the great satisfaction of addressing -the newly ordained clergy, by appointment of the Bishop, and -afterwards of dining with him, and them, at the College, where -I am happy to testify that all things were done unto edifying, -until the close of the day. I was charmed with the Bishop’s -manner in private intercourse with his younger clergy; and not -less gratified to learn that the Ordination had been preceded by -his personal conference with each individual, in which the awful -responsibilities of the ministry had been freely enforced, and fully -recognized. Those whom I had seen ordained, had come to that -solemnity, therefore, with the fullest sense of its unspeakable consequences -to their souls; and, so far as could be ascertained, with -holy resolutions to be faithful unto death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The solemnities of the Jubilee of the Venerable S. P. G., now -called me back to London, and to a renewal of its social pleasures. -On the morning of the 16th of June, I attended, at -Westminster Abbey, with a large number of the clergy, the opening -services. It was a memorable occasion; the choir of the -Abbey being filled with a dense crowd of worshippers, among -whom, to judge by their looks and complexions, were men “out -of every nation under heaven.” The Bishop of London was the -preacher, and gave us an appropriate sermon, characterized by -the finish for which his performances are noted, and not deficient -in feeling or fervour. It contained gratifying allusions to the -American Church, one of whose prelates, Bishop Otey, was present, -in the sanctuary, and assisting in the services. A large -number of communicants knelt at the altar; and while several -of my English friends made an effort to receive at the hands of -the Bishop of Tennessee, in gratifying their feelings of Catholic intercommunion, -I found an equal satisfaction in receiving the -Holy Sacrament from the Archbishop of Canterbury. During -the whole solemnity, which filled up several hours, my mind was -powerfully impressed with the historical spirit of the place; and -while I listened to the sermon, glancing occasionally upward to -the vaulted roof, or allowing my eye to wander away among the -columns of the nave or choir, it was impossible to divest myself -of associations the most sublime, that seemed to swarm around -me, like “a cloud of witnesses,” blending the interminable past -with the momentary present. Here we were, in our turn, upon -the stage, the great actors of past centuries lying all around us! -Through yonder gate, beneath the great rose-window, pomp and -procession have entered this holy place, age after age; and here, -one after another, each as real in its time as that which occupies -us now, have the great solemnities of the nation been celebrated. -These arches and aisles looked just as they look this minute on -the day when Laud ushered in King Charles to receive his crown, -and when, just here, he was presented, to the Lords and Commons -assisting at that pregnant moment, as their anointed -Sovereign. The thought of all that has since passed on the same -spot, seemed to compress into the mere drama of an hour, the -mighty history of which such was the opening scene. Then the -thought of the entire ignorance of futurity, by which such a -pageant was made real in its time! Imagination places us back -among the men of a by-gone age; but we cannot strip our individuality -of its historic knowledge, and we behold their doings with -the eyes of a seer. I seemed to be listening to the shout of -“Long live King Charles”—and at the same moment foreseeing -the scaffold at Whitehall. I seemed to wonder that others could -be ignorant of what was coming: and to feel compelled to forewarn -the King of the dreadful future. Just so the jubilant coronation -of Charles the Second, and the melancholy inauguration -of his successor, flitted before me, with the events of years condensed -into a moment: and then again I found myself going -back to the days of Elizabeth and her hateful sire; and so -mounting to the Plantagenets and Normans. It is said that we -cannot think of two things at once: but certainly, while I was -absorbed in the sermon, I was yet occupied with such thoughts -as these, and, in fact, was giving the preacher the full benefit of -all this as a background, while I looked on him as the prominent -figure of the picture. The psalms for the day had been exceedingly -suggestive and appropriate; they were the <span class='it'>Deus venerunt</span>, -the <span class='it'>Qui regis Israel</span>, and the <span class='it'>Exultate Deo</span>; and all the while I was -mentally contrasting 1851 with 1651, and saying, “What hath -God wrought!” That day, two hundred years ago, the Puritans -were in the Abbey, making havoc of its holy things, and exulting -over the annihilation of the Church of England. They supposed -her exterminated, “root and branch:” it was a felony to read one -of her ancient Collects in the poorest cottage of the land. And -now! I was surrounded by representatives of her communion, -who had come up to keep her one hundred and fiftieth missionary -festival from the uttermost parts of the earth. Beside the Primate -of all England, stood before me the Bishops of Argyle, of -Jamaica, and of Tennessee. Around me were kneeling Africans, -Asiatics, and Americans, with the islanders of the South Seas, -all partakers of her holy fellowship: and passing from such a -past to such a present—what a leap my spirit took into the -future. Another jubilee—and another! Who shall set a limit -to the ingathering of nations; to the latter-day triumphs of the -Gospel!</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Visions of Glory, spare my aching sight;</p> -<p class='line0'> Ye unborn ages crowd not on my soul.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>When the services were over, it took some time to emancipate -myself from the spell of the place, and I wandered to and fro in -the Abbey. A dear friend, a fellow of Oriel College, caught me -by the hand, and pointed to the slab beneath my feet. It covered -Samuel Johnson. “Surely old Samuel’s bones must have been -stirred to-day by the Church’s Jubilee,” said I, “but don’t think -you have shown me his grave for the first time; I already know -all the choice spots in this floor, and have knelt on that very -slab, and given God thanks for his servant Samuel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I dined that day with a party of zealous Churchmen, and supporters -of the S. P. G.; and, in the evening, went to an ecclesiastical -conversazione at Willis’ Rooms. We drove, in a private -carriage, through Hyde Park and St. James’s, and were set down -at “Almack’s” as superbly as if we had come on as gay an -errand as is the more usual one of its visitors. But those brilliant -rooms were now thronged with a graver company, the -object of the festivity being to do honour to foreign ecclesiastics -and pastors, who might be in London on occasion of the Jubilee -and the Crystal Palace. I was presented to the Primate, who -conversed with a simplicity of manner the most impressive, and -invited me to Lambeth with a sort of cordiality, the very reverse -of that stateliness and etiquette which it was not unnatural to -expect in the address of one so exalted in station. I was much -pleased with his venerable appearance, and accepted the kind -appointment of an hour, which he named, for my visit to the -Archiepiscopal palace, with peculiar pleasure. His Grace was -surrounded by his brother Bishops, among whom I saw, for the -first time, the Archbishop of Dublin; a prelate of acknowledged -talent, but whose gifts would have better fitted the Academy than -the throne of a Primate. An Oriental Archimandrite completed -the group in this quarter; and other parts of the rooms swarmed -with solemn looking men, talking German and French with their -English entertainers, or vainly essaying civilities in Low Dutch -and Danish. One of these personages, who looked as if he -might have figured, with credit to himself, at the Synod of Dort, -attacked me in the dialect of the Flemings, to my utter consternation. -I could only stammer out a little gibberish, as a reply, -and precipitately sounded a retreat, in utter distrust of my ability -to sustain a further conversation with my unknown colloquist to -mutual satisfaction. I soon afterward made the acquaintance of -the Chevalier Bunsen, with whom, as one of the curiosities of -the age, I was not sorry to have this opportunity of exchanging -a few words. The Chevalier is at home on every subject, and I -found him communicative on the favourite topic which I ventured -to start, by referring to a common friend, whom he had known -very well in Rome. One after another I encountered, during the -evening, many eminent and agreeable personages, among whom -were officers of the army, dignitaries of the Church, several -Bishops, and the Earl of Harrowby. The company was altogether -a brilliant one, in spite of the polemical figures who constituted -so important a part of it; and the stars and decorations -of the nobility, and of foreign officials, were quite conspicuous, -among the white neckerchiefs and black broadcloth of the ecclesiastics -and pastors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I breakfasted, next morning, with the Rector of St. Martin’s -in the Fields, and then accompanied him, on a visiting tour, about -his parish. First, I went to the parish-school, which had lately -been rebuilt, and was deemed a model. Prince Albert, who -interests himself in such things, was to visit it that very day, and -I was kindly asked by the Rector to be of the company, but was -otherwise engaged. One of the peculiarities of this building was -its ingenious contrivance of a play-ground—if that may be so -called, which was some fifty or sixty feet above the earth. Land -being costly in the parish of St. Martin’s, the building was planned -with a double roof, the lower one being flat, and surrounded -with a high fence, affording a safe and ample space for the recreation -of the children; while the roof above them served as an -awning against the sun, or as a shelter from the rain. A fine -view, and as pure an atmosphere as London can afford, were additional -advantages of the arrangement. Next, we visited the -parochial baths and wash-houses, in which the poor have the best -opportunity for washing and drying clothes, and also of keeping -their persons in a neat and wholesome condition, at the cost of a -few pennies. The benevolence and utility of the establishment -must be obvious. Next the Rector took me to see Coleman, one -of his parishioners, who was then in his 102d year, and a fine -and healthy-looking man at that. What is better, he is unfeignedly -pious, and joined devoutly in the prayers which were offered -by his pastor, responding with fervour, and saying, in reply to -one of his questions—“I know that my Redeemer liveth.” This -aged Christian owes his serene and consoling faith, under God, to -his early training in the charity school, established in this parish -by Archbishop Tennison. He was a pupil in that school when -George the Second died, and remembers the tolling of the great -bell of St. Paul’s, to announce the event. He also remembers -the Coronation of George the Third, and the procession, which -he saw as it went to the Abbey, on that occasion. Think of his -living to see, as he did, the procession of Victoria to the Crystal -Palace, with the same pair of eyes! It was gratifying to hear -his testimony to the vast improvement in manners which has -been going on in London since he was a boy. He remembers the -nights and days which Hogarth has so frightfully depicted; and -he says, too truly, that to be a gentleman, was to be a rake, almost -universally, when he was a boy. “It was as much as one’s -life was worth,” he says, “to walk the streets, at night, in those -days.” The same day, I heard Mr. Sydney Herbert remark, in -his speech at St. Martin’s Hall, that this age is reputed better -than its antecessors, chiefly because, while it cares not what a man -may be at heart, it compels him to be decent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This meeting at St. Martin’s Hall, by the way, must not be -forgotten. It was part of the Jubilee. Prince Albert presided, -and did so, I must allow, in a very princely style, so far as his -personal bearing was concerned. As he entered, which he did -with great dignity, the whole assembly rose, and sang <span class='it'>God Save -the Queen</span>. This struck me as exceedingly handsome and appropriate: -but I was not so well pleased with the fulsome adulation -with which some of the speakers, afterwards, seemed to think it -necessary to bedaub him. He was himself guilty of a flagrant -breach of propriety, as it struck me, in alluding to William of -Orange, who happened to be on the throne when the Charter of -the S. P. G. was signed and sealed, as “the greatest sovereign who -ever reigned in Great Britain.” To this ill-judged compliment to -one of the foreign adventurers who have succeeded in planting -themselves in British palaces, a few gaping mouths in the auditory -ejaculated the response, “hear, hear”—for which the sentence -was evidently a studied catch: but I am glad to say that the -greater part of the assembly was not such as to be so entrapped. -It was a failure, absolutely, though the <span class='it'>Times</span> reported “great -applause,” as a matter of course. When a prince condescends to -set up for a critic upon royalty, he deserves no better success: -and the ill taste of this particular attempt, on such an occasion, -seemed to me offensive in the extreme. It is plain that the -prince has learned his historical alphabet from Macaulay, and has -studied no further: but I considered this straw as indicative of a -coming wind, with which the founder of the House of Coburg should -not have threatened the Church so soon. He may yet reap the whirlwind -himself, or bequeath it to his children: for it is evident, to me, -that amiable and estimable as he is, in many respects, and beloved -as he is by a loyal people as the consort of their Queen, he is an -alien to true British feeling, and an enemy to the Anglican Church. -He would Germanize the nation if possible; above all, he longs -to Bunsenize the national religion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the whole, I found myself too much of an American -Churchman to relish this meeting. It was humiliating to see the -venerable Archbishop paying such deference to one who, though -so nearly allied to the throne, is in no wise entitled to especial -homage from so august a personage as the Primate of all England: -and I considered it insufferable that such official personages -as Lord John Russell, and Earl Grey, should be chief speakers, -merely because of their position, although flagrant enemies of the -Church’s holiest principles. A more turgid piece of bombast -than the former delivered, I have never chanced to hear, and his -whole appearance was, to me, ludicrously revolting. It must -not be supposed, however, that the meeting went off without effect. -It was nobly redeemed by admirable speeches from Sydney -Herbert, the Duke of Newcastle, Sir Robert Inglis, and the Earl -of Harrowby, as well as from the Bishops of Oxford and London. -Lord Harrowby, in particular, reflecting on the Walpoles -and the Graftons of former ministerial epochs with just severity, -gave Lord John some wise counsels, while apparently congratulating -him on his widely different policy, in patronizing Missions! -Mr. Sydney Herbert was truly eloquent, and threw out several -sparkling abstractions, which greatly raised my estimate of his -mental power; but the natural orator, among them all, was the -Bishop of Oxford, whose delightful voice, pleading for the creation -of a staff of native Missionaries in Africa, India, and China, infused -a thrill of feeling through every heart, as he wound up with -the scriptural example of those whose first transports, in receiving -the Gospel, found vent in the expression—“We do hear them -speak, <span class='it'>in our tongues</span>, the wonderful works of God.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As duly appointed, I waited on the Archbishop at Lambeth, -and was received with very little ceremony, into his study,—a -spacious apartment, plainly furnished, and overlooking the garden -of the Palace. His manner was, as before, extremely simple and -affable; and he conversed upon divers ecclesiastical subjects with -an appearance of zeal, and with a general tone of elevated -churchmanship, for which he is certainly not celebrated as a Primate. -It was with the profoundest reverence that I listened to -the successor of Augustine and of Cranmer; and not without -deference did I venture to express myself, in his presence, even -on American subjects. As I rose to depart, he followed me to -the door of the room, with something exceedingly winning and -paternal in his farewell; and kindly invited me to dine with him, -on a day which he named, as the only one when he expected to -be at home for some time. This pleasure I was forced to deny -myself, owing to a previous engagement; and I accordingly concluded -my visit to Lambeth, at this time, by going the usual -rounds in company with an official, to whom His Grace committed -me. My readers may well imagine my emotions in surveying -the Lollard’s Tower, the gallery of historic portraits, the library, -and other apartments, of this most interesting pile; but perhaps -they might not wholly appreciate the feelings with which I knelt -in the chapel, and returned thanks for our American Episcopacy, -on the spot where it was imparted to the saintly White. I lingered, -for a long time, in the gardens, thinking of Laud, of Juxon, -and of Sancroft; and dwelling, with peculiar gratification in my -imagination, upon the scenes between Laud and “Mr. Hyde,” of -which these gardens were the witness, as mentioned in the pictured -pages of Clarendon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The solemn octave of the Jubilee included Sunday the 22d of -June, on which day special sermons were preached in many pulpits, -in London, and collections made in behalf of the Society. I -received an appointment to preach at Bow Church, and accordingly -did so, taking as a text Genesis ix. 27, and endeavouring to -show that the existence of our own Church, in the Western -World, is a fulfilment of the prophecy, “God shall enlarge -Japhet, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem.” But a greater -privilege awaited me in the evening of the same day, when it was -my happy lot to perform a similar duty, in the Temple Church, -standing in Hooker’s pulpit, and preaching to a congregation of -the highest intelligence and character, upon the spread of the -Church in America. It was a fine afternoon, and that glorious -Church was filled with such an assembly as I had never before -seen gathered together on an occasion of ordinary worship. Besides -the Bishops of Winchester and Edinburgh, who happened -to be present, with the Master of the Temple, and other clergy, -the benchers were numerously represented, and the finest legal -talent of the empire was undoubtedly there collected. To -judge by the large attendance of ladies, (some of them of the -highest rank,) the Templars were also accompanied by their families: -to whom, I suppose, the music furnishes a powerful attraction, -as it is justly celebrated; and the organ, though selected -two hundred years ago, by the critical ear of the bloody Judge -Jeffreys, is of a tone proverbially sweet. The attendance of -strangers, drawn together by the same attraction, was also very -large, the round church as well as the choir, being apparently -filled. I was much moved by the anthem—“Tell it out among -the heathen that the Lord is King”—and when it was time for -me to ascend the pulpit, and to preach to such an Areopagus, it -may be imagined that it was not without feelings of emotion, -such as I had never before experienced in the performance of my -official duties. That old historic spot, where Hooker had struggled -to preserve the falling Church of a single kingdom, was now -occupied by my pilgrim feet; and coming from a new world, I -was to attest, before such an assembly, and in the presence of -God, the blessings which that noble struggle had secured, not to -England only, but through her to the wilds of America, and to -the unborn generations of a new and mighty people in another -hemisphere. The text was the prophecy of David, (Psalm xlv. -17,) “Instead of thy fathers thou shalt have children, whom thou -mayest make princes in all lands:” and it was my effort, (as I -trust I may say, without too free a personal confession) to improve -so interesting an opportunity, in commending my country -to the respect of those who heard me, while confessing the just -claims upon her gratitude, of the Mother land, from which she is -proud to derive the blessings of the Gospel, and the institutions -of enlightened freedom, guarded by the supremacy of law. After -service, the Master of the Temple, taking me into his adjoining -residence, showed me a table which once belonged to his great -predecessor, Hooker, and allowed me to sit down in Hooker’s -chair. He also showed me some memorials of Bishop Heber, -whose missionary labours in India he had assisted, as his chaplain. -The evening was passed under the domestic roof of Dr. Warren, -the eminent bencher, whose remarkable production, “Ten thousand -a-year,” has added to his other distinctions, that of reforming -the romance literature of the age, and of introducing a tone -of high Christian morality, in place of that fashionable depravity -which Bulwer had caught from Byron, and substituted for the -decent propriety of Scott. To his polite hospitalities I was indebted -for some of my happiest hours in London: and the conclusion -of this Holy Day was rendered memorable by many -warm expressions of regard for my country and her Church, inspired -by his conversation, in the genial society of his family and -friends.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Lord Mayor’s Banquet—Eton College—Hampton.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Jubilee festival at Westminster Abbey was not allowed -to supersede the annual sermon at St. Paul’s; and accordingly, -on the 18th of June, I attended the service in the cathedral, and -heard the Bishop of St. Asaph. The service was performed with -the aid of “all the choicest music of the kingdom,” for the choirs -of the royal palaces of Windsor and St. James’s were added, on -this occasion, to the ordinary musical force of the cathedral, -with very great effect. The clergy, with the Bishops, entered -in procession through the nave, and the Lord Mayor in robes, -and with the civic sword borne before him, figured in the pageant, -and occupied his stall. The sermon was scarcely audible where -I sat, within the rails of the sanctuary, but it seemed to be earnestly -delivered. Then came the Hallelujah Chorus—which I -certainly never before heard so impressively performed. “And -He shall reign for ever and ever—King of kings, and Lord of -lords!” The reverberations of the dome, and the long resounding -echoes of those noble aisles prolonged the strain, and made it -like the voice of many waters in the new Jerusalem.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was <span class='it'>Waterloo-day</span>; and, while the Duke was supposed to -be feasting his friends at Apsley House, the Lord Mayor, at the -Mansion-house, gave a city feast to the Clergy of London, with -others, among whom I had the honour of being numbered. It -was, in fact, a dinner given to the S. P. G., in honour of its -Jubilee; and I owed my invitation to the kind offices of the -Bishop of Oxford. The Mansion-house is the official residence -of the Lord Mayor, and it is a conspicuous object in Lombard-street, -near the Bank of England. On arriving, we were shown -into an ante-room, where the Lord Mayor received us, and we -were presented to the Lady Mayoress. The room was filled with -company, and here I met several distinguished personages whom -I had not seen before. I was particularly pleased with being -introduced, by Dean Milman, to Dr. Croly, for whose genius -and productions I have a high regard. The dinner was served in -the Egyptian Hall, so called from its original resemblance to a -hall described by Vitruvius. It is a spacious banquet-room, and -looks very well when lighted, although destitute of such specimens -of art as would best furnish its nudity of wall, and its many -“coignes of vantage.” The chief table crossed the hall at one -end, and at right angles with this, four long tables stretched -through the apartment. The Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress -sat in state at the head, the former wearing his glittering collar -and jewel, as well as his robes, with the city mace, sword, and -other splendid insignia displayed before him. The Archbishop, -with the Bishops, were seated on his right and left, dressed in -their silk gowns and cassocks, in which costume all the clergy present -were attired. The ladies made a very superb appearance, and -I should suppose the whole company numbered about two hundred -persons. The display of plate, and the general show of splendour, -was sumptuous, in all respects, answering to one’s ideas of a Lord -Mayor’s feast. An old-fashioned civic custom, moreover, was -observed with a certain degree of punctilio, which, while highly becoming, -was yet to me highly amusing, and made me feel, all the -time, as if I were dining with the great Whittington himself, -especially when his Lordship sent me a glass, and invited me to -the high honour of drinking with him. The mayor of such a -metropolis is, indeed, for the time, a right worshipful personage, -and in the then incumbent I saw before me a most pleasing <a id='rep'></a>representative -of the magistracy of the greatest capital of Christendom. -He is attended with a degree of state quite worthy of a -sovereign. It was odd, I must own, to see his chaplain come -forward, in the style described by the cynical Macaulay, and, -after saying grace, retire. So, too, the presence of his post-boy, -in flaming jacket and short-clothes, and glittering cap, with many -other servants, in showy and old-fashioned liveries, gave an antique -appearance to the magnificence of the scene. The dinner -was served with like attention to ancient ceremonies, soup, -venison, comfits and all. Before the dessert, instead of finger-glasses, -golden ewers were borne about, filled with rose-water, -and thus every body performed his abstersion most fragrantly. -At the head of each table was then set an enormous golden -chalice, with a cover curiously wrought, the Lord Mayor having -a still more magnificent one placed before him. What next? -The toast-master appeared behind his lordship’s chair, and began—“My -Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, my Lord Bishop of -London”—and so on through the roll of Bishops—“my Lords, -Ladies and gentlemen! the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress -greet you in a loving cup, and give you a hearty welcome.” -The Mayor and Mayoress then rose, and taking the loving cup -in hand, she uncovered it for him, with a graceful courtesy, to -which he returned a bow, and then drank, wiped the chalice -with his napkin, allowed it to be covered, and then sat down, -while the lady, turning to the Archbishop, who rose accordingly, -repeated the ceremony, save that he uncovered the cup, and it -was her turn to taste the draught. Thus the cup went round. -It was my duty to begin the rite at the table at which I sat, -and happily I received the kindest instructions beforehand from -my partner, so that I did my duty well enough for a novice: but -a more beautiful ceremony, as the pairs successively rose and sat, -along the splendid room, I never beheld. I thought of Vortigern -and Rowena: but the origin of the custom is said to have been -even before the days—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>      When they carved at the meal</p> -<p class='line0'>      In their gloves of steel,</p> -<p class='line0'>And drank the red wine thro’ the helmet barr’d;</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>and when, as one lifted his arm to drink, it was deemed a necessary -precaution that one should stand up to guard him from a -fifth-rib. With less ceremony, the custom still obtains in the -halls of Oxford; but where the ladies take a part in it, it is certainly -a most graceful embellishment of feasting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Instead of the usual grace after meat, a party of male and female -singers appeared at the foot of the hall, and reverently sang -a little hymn, all the company rising. His Lordship then informed -the company that “on occasion of receiving his friends -at the Mansion-house, it was his privilege to dispense with all -rules save those which governed the ancient entertainments of -the city of London, one of which enabled him to request the -ladies to remain at the table, and to hope for the continued -honour of their company during the evening.” After this velvety -preface, he pronounced the first toast, with a similar softness, -and then the toast-master shouted—“My lords, ladies and gentlemen, -the Lord Mayor has given <span class='it'>the Queen</span>.” All rose, and -drank loyally, and then came “God save the Queen,” which was -heartily sung. “Please to charge your glasses for the next -toast,” was the perpetual cry of the toast-master for the next -hour, and always the toast was announced with like formality, -the speeches and the music, that followed, being all that could -be desired. The venerable Archbishop, whose wig gave him a -reverend air of the last century, was peculiarly happy in replying -to the usual compliments to their right reverend lordships, who -all stood while he spoke in their name. The Bishop of Winchester, -his younger brother, who wore his jewel as prelate of the -order of the Garter, made a very fine appearance. The Bishop of -Oxford also wore his decoration as chancellor of that order; and I -observed that, on such occasions, he always wore it with the -rosette face displayed, while, in divine service, over his Episcopal -costume, the other face was exhibited; and very appropriately, -as it consists of a pearl ground, with a simple cross, as in an -armorial shield. A trifling fact! and yet where one is closely -observing the peculiarities of a Church, thus intimately working -in with all the civil and social institutions of a mighty empire, the -man is a fool who would not be willing to note it. It is with a -view to a just delineation of these workings, as they are, that I -often refer to incidents, of little account in themselves. This -dinner at the Mansion-house was especially noteworthy, as contrasted -with the spirit of a civic banquet in our own great towns; -and I must own, that if it be desirable that the genius of Christianity -should interpenetrate, and transfuse all the forms of civilized -life, the contrast is not in our favour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The entertainment concluded at a comparatively early hour; -and then I drove to another, at the residence of the estimable Miss -Burdett Coutts, in Piccadilly. Here, among other celebrated men, -in the most brilliant party I ever saw, I first met Lord Nelson; -and yet again next morning, I met him, before breakfast, attending -the daily service at Curzon chapel. The week passed delightfully, -in frequent social festivities; and I cannot but particularize -a pleasant breakfast party at Mr. Beresford Hope’s—and -one of those admirably contrived ones, at Sir Robert Inglis’, -in which everybody is so sure to meet with everybody and every -thing that is agreeable. On another occasion, at his table, I -sat next to Lord Glenelg, and ventured to engage him in conversation -on the subject of the hymns of his brother, the late Sir -Robert Grant, which are so prominent in our Church Collection, -alike for their scholarly and refined taste, and their devotional -fervor. He seemed pleased to learn of the value set upon them -in America; and soon after, on returning to my lodgings, I found -upon my table, as a present from his lordship, a beautiful copy -of his brother’s poems, which I shall always highly value.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the week, I went up to Eton—the place of places, -which I had longed to see, and where I was now invited to visit -an enthusiastic Etonian. This excursion involved, of course, a -visit to Windsor, whose imperial towers so magnificently over-shadow -the nest of the choicest progeny of England. Never did -I receive such ideas of the moral grandeur of the British Constitution, -as comprehending Church, State and Society, as, when, -from the fields of Eton College, I surveyed the unparalleled -abode of the British sovereign; and then, from the terrace of -the castle, looked back upon that nursery of British youth; its -studious halls, its venerable chapel, its ample fields for sport, and -the crystal waters of the Thames, flowing between; fit emblem -of joyous youth, passing on to the burthen of the world and the -ocean of eternity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Gray looked from that terrace, over the same scene, -and conceived his incomparable Ode, he said all that one ought -to say, and I will attempt no more. One question, however, -which he could only ask, it is reserved for us to answer.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Who foremost now delight to cleave,</p> -<p class='line0'>With pliant arm thy glassy wave, &c.?</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Among the boys whom he then saw running and swimming, and -driving hoop and playing cricket, in the old familiar scene, was -he who afterwards conquered Napoleon. I saw the name of -Wellesley, with those of Fox and others as celebrated, carved -in the college oak. There, too, were the busts of Hammond and -Pearson, and of Gray himself. The famous men of Eton seemed -to be around me in legions. Who could not catch manliness -and might amid such associations? All day I loitered about those -meads, and towards evening went upon the Thames with a merry -party, to see a juvenile boat race, in the Oxford fashion. Oh, -the sport of those happy boys! One boat swamped, but the little -fellows swam lustily to shore, and ran home laughing. It was the -fragrant hay-time. Every prospect—every breeze was pleasing. As -the boats hurried by, and those patrician lads pulled away at their -oars, like day-labourers, I saw how the mind and muscles are -alike developed at Eton. How can the body be feeble, that is -reared with such lusty exercise: how can the mind but conceive -high thoughts, that pursues its very sports with “those antique -towers” on one hand, and that stupendous castle, lifting its -gigantic bulk, and stretching its majestic walls, upon the other? -The boys look upon the right, and there sages, patriots, heroes, -priests and princes have been bred: they turn to the left, and -there their Sovereign lives in august retirement; her imperial -banner waves above the keep; and beneath that solemn chapel -sleeps the Royal Martyr, and the dust of mighty kings, whose -names are the material of history.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I made the usual circuit of the castle; but with the details -which every guide-book furnishes, I would not fatigue my -readers. For the mere show of royal furniture, my mind could -find little room; and mere State-apartments, as such, were even -a distasteful sight. But the noble architecture, and unrivalled -site of the castle; its histories, and the charm which association -gives to every tower and window, and to the whole scene with -which it fills the eye—these are the sublime elements with which -Windsor inspires the soul, and impregns the imagination. <span class='it'>Hoc fecit -Wykeham</span>—is the inscription one catches, deep cut in the wall -of one of the towers: an <span class='it'>equivoque</span> which the ambitious architect -is said to have interpreted, as implying that <span class='it'>the work was the making -of him</span>, when asked by his royal patron how he dared to -claim the castle as a creation, and turn it into a memorial of -himself. But who can appropriate Windsor? The humble poet, -by a single song, has taken its terrace to himself; and every -stone, and every timber, might bear some appropriate and speaking -legend. I thought chiefly of Charles the First. How he -loved this castle! How he would have adorned it, and what a -home of worth and genius he would have made it, had he not -fallen on evil times! That truly English heart beat warmly -here, a few weeks before it ceased to beat forever; and along this -esplanade was borne his bleeding body, (on which fell the symbolic -snow of a passing cloud,) to its last sublime repose. “So -went the white king to his rest,” says a quaint historian: and -when, at Evening Prayer in St. George’s chapel, I reflected that -his solemn relics were underneath, I felt a reviving affection for -his memory, almost like that of personal love. The dying sunbeams -gilded the carvings of the sanctuary and the banners of -the knights; I sat in one of the stalls near the altar, and observed -near me the motto—<span class='it'>cœlum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt</span>. -When at length the anthem swelled through the gorgeous -chapel—<span class='it'>Awake up my glory</span>—I could not but respond, inwardly, -that it was meet that the glory of God should be thus perpetually -uplifted in the palace of a Sovereign, whom he has so magnified -in the earth. And to which of her Sovereigns does England -owe it, that she is not now either a cracked Commonwealth, -without God and without government, or else an iron despotism, -in the grasp of successful usurper? He who sleeps under that -chapel said that he died “a martyr for the people:” and so he did. -On the principle by which Macaulay attributes the liberties of -England to her Cromwells, we might attribute salvation to Judas -and Pontius Pilate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the twilight I returned to Eton, and went and mused in -the chapel, after searching out the slab that covers Sir Henry -Wotton. Then to one of the <span class='it'>Dames’</span> houses, (a tasteful abode,) -where several oppidans were domiciled, with whom I attended -family prayers. These oppidans are the <span class='it'>day-scholars</span> of Eton: -having no rooms in the college, and sharing none of its funds. -They are the greater part of the Etonians, the sons of gentlemen -and of the nobility, who, of course, do not require the scholarships. -After a sweet sleep, interrupted by hearing the clock strike -and the chimes playing at Windsor, I rose to another delightful -day, and soon after breakfast attended the service in the chapel. -Five hundred and fifty boys were here gathered as worshippers. -The service was an hour long, it being the Anniversary of the -Queen’s Accession. Yet, for the whole time, did those youths -maintain the decorum of gentlemen, and worship with the fervor -of Christians. This reverence in worship is said to have greatly -increased during late years among the Eton boys, many of whom -are communicants. It speaks well for their homes, as well as -for their college. What promise for the future of the Empire!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In short, the boys of Eton seem to study well, to play well, to -fare well, to sleep well, to pray well. It was a holiday, and I -went into the grounds to see the cricket match: I visited the -library, the boys’ rooms, and the halls. It is a literal fact, that -they still revere their “Henry’s holy shade;” for pictures of -“the meek usurper,” are to be found in almost every chamber. -Last of all, I went to the river with an Etonian friend, stripped, -and plunged in. I could not leave that spot without a swim; -and accordingly, after a struggle with father Thames, I emerged, -and soon after left Eton in a glow of genial warmth and lively -enthusiasm. If “manners maketh man,” Eton cannot fail to be -the nursery of great men, so long as it is true to itself and to the -Church of God.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My next visit was to Hampton Court, for which I found a -day quite insufficient, when reduced to the actual hours which -one is permitted to devote to the survey of such a wilderness -of natural and artificial charms, and to the enjoyment of their -historical interest. In the grounds of the palace, and in Bushy -Park, I found a formal grandeur, so entirely becoming a past -age, and so unusual in this, that it impressed me with feelings of -melancholy the most profound. Those avenues of chestnuts and -thorns, those massive colonnades and dreamy vistas, wear a -desolate and dreary aspect of by-gone glory, in view of which -my spirits could not rise. They seemed only a fit haunt for airy -echoes, repeating an eternal <span class='it'>Where?</span> Nothing later than the -days of Queen Anne seems to belong to the spot. You pass -from scenes in which you cannot but imagine Pope conceiving, -for the first time, his “Rape of the Lock,” into a more trim -and formal spot, where William of Orange seems likely to appear -before you, with Bishop Burnet buzzing about him, and a Dutch -guard following in the rear. Then again, James the Second, -with the Pope’s nuncio at his elbow, and a coarse mistress flaunting -at his side, might seem to promise an immediate apparition; -when once more the scene changes, and the brutal Cromwell -is the only character who can be imagined in the forlorn area, -with a file of musketeers in the back-ground, descried through -a shadowy archway. Here is a lordly chamber where the meditative -Charles may be conceived as startled by the echo of their -tread; and here another, where he embraces, for the last time, -his beloved children. There, at last, is Wolsey’s Hall, and here -one seems to behold old Blue-beard leading forth Anne Boleyn -to a dance. It still retains its ancient appearance, and is hung -with mouldering tapestry and faded banners, although its gilding -and colors have been lately renewed. The ancient devices -of the Tudors are seen here and there, in windows and tracery, -and the cardinal’s hat of the proud churchman, who projected -the splendors of the place, still survives, in glass, whose brittle -beauty has thus proved less perishable than his worldly glory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet let no one suppose the magnificence of Hampton Court -to consist in its architecture. One half is the mere copy of St. -James’s, and the other is the stupid novelty of Dutch William. -The whole together, with its parks, and with its history, is what -one feels and admires. I am not sure but Royal Jamie, with -his Bishops and his Puritans on either side was as often -before me, when traversing the pile, as anything else: and for -him and his Conference the place seems fit enough, having -something of Holyrood about it, and something Scholastic, or -collegiate, also. Queen Victoria should give it to the Church, -as a college for the poor, and so add dignity to her benevolence, -which has already turned it into a show for the darling “lower -classes.” I honour the Queen for this condescension to the people; -and yet, as I followed troops of John Gilpins through the -old apartments, and observed their inanimate stare, and booby -admiration, it did strike me that a nobler and a larger benefit -might be conferred upon them, in a less incongruous way. -Perhaps the happiest thought would be to make it for the clergy -just what Chelsea is to the army, and Greenwich to the naval -service.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the interminable pictures of these apartments, some -most precious, and some execrable, the original Cartoons of Rafaelle -of course arrest the most serious and reverent attention. -There hang those bits of paper, slightly colored, but distinctly -crayoned and chalked, on which his immortal genius exhausted -its finest inspiration! Who knows not, by heart, the Lame Man -at the Beautiful Gate, St. Paul Preaching at Athens, the Sacrifice -at Lystra, and Elymas struck blind? These are the autographs -of those sublime works; and the Vatican itself may envy -their possession to Hampton Court. But, beyond their antiquarian -interest, I must own they have not for me the attractiveness -of a beautiful copy: it would be a fine thing to own Shakspeare’s -autograph of Hamlet, but who would not rather read and study -the play in the clear type and paper of a modern edition? Next -to the Cartoons, I found most interesting the old historic canvas -of Holbein, with its paste-board figures; and after that, the intensely -significant series, which may be picked out, from room to -room, as displaying the spirit of English reigns. Look at that -glorious Van Dyck! How the rich romance of the Cavaliers -invests its mellow lights and melancholy shades! There the -voluptuous age of the Restoration swims before the eye in the -dreamy coloring of Lely. See how old Kneller hardens every -tint, and stiffens every line, as he essays to paint for William of -Orange! Then comes Reynolds, throwing a hectic brilliancy -over the starched figures and unyielding features of the Georgian -age; and last of all West, with his brick-dust Hanoverians, <a id='surr'></a>surrendering -art itself a prisoner to the intolerable prose and incurable -beer-drinking of his times! Here and there I found a Lawrence, -instinct with the spirit of a happy revival, and giving promise -of better things to come. The collections are also rich in -specimens of Flemish and Italian art; and warmed me with a -desire hardly felt before in England, to be off on a contemplated -tour of the Continent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On my way to Winchester, I was led to stop for an hour at -Basing-stoke, by an idle curiosity to behold a place in which -some of my forefathers once resided. It gave me an opportunity -of visiting the tomb of the elder Warton, close by the altar of -the parish Church. From Winchester I went by post, in the -twilight, over downs, and through dingles and dales, to Hursley, -where I entered the Church, and found Mr. Keble and his curate -celebrating Evening Prayers. I had brought with me, from -Hampton Court, a feeling of overpowering depression, and having -seen the admired poet in circumstances so fitting to his character -as a Christian priest, I was about to turn away, and drive -back to Winchester, when another impulse suddenly prevailed, -and I ventured to present myself. I had a preconception of his -piety and unworldliness, that affected me with awe, and embarrassed -me, in approaching him; nor did anything in his cordiality -divest him of something that restrained me in his presence. -Nothing could be more simple and unaffected than his manner; -and yet, in a word, it was as if George Herbert had risen from -his grave, and were talking with me, in a familiar way. He -would not hear of my departure, but instantly made me his guest; -and thenceforth I was in a dream, from the time that I first saw -him till I bade him farewell. Nothing could be more kind than -his hospitality; nothing more delightful than the vision on which -I opened my eyes, in the morning, and looked out on his Church, -and the little hamlet contiguous. Hursley is a true poet’s home. -It is as secluded as can well be imagined. England might ring -with alarms, and Hursley would not hear it: and it seems all the -more lonely, when one learns that Richard Cromwell retired -hither, from a throne, and after waxing old in a quiet contentment, -died here in peace, and now sleeps beneath the tower of -the Church, just under the vicar’s windows, with all the cousinry -of the Cromwells around him. A wise fool was Richard! But -to think of a Cromwell lying still, in such a Church as Mr. Keble -has made this of Hursley! It has been lately rebuilt, from the -foundation, all but the tower, and its symbolism and decoration are -very rich, though far from being overdone. The taste that has enshrined -itself in “the Christian Year,” has here taken shape in -stones. One of the windows, the gift of friends, is an epitome of that -delightful work, and displays the chief festivals, beginning with -the Circumcision. In the minute adornment of the corbels, my -attention was called to a beautiful idea, which runs through the -whole series, and which is said to furnish the hint for interpreting -the ornaments of older churches. Entering the south porch, -you observe the sculptured heads of the reigning sovereign and -the present bishop of the See; and then, at the door, those of -St. Helena, and St. Augustine of Canterbury. At the chancel -arch are St. Peter and St. Paul; and over the altar, beneath the -arch of the East window, are the figures of our Lord, and of His -Virgin Mother. Thus, from the present, the mind is carried on -to the past; and from pastors and rulers, through doctors and -apostles, up to Christ. The north porch exhibits the heads of -Ken and Andrewes, of Wykeham and Fox; while the corbels of -the exterior arch of the east window, bear those of Ambrose and -Athanasius. The tower of the Church is finished by a graceful -spire, and the gilded cock surmounts the pile—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                        “——to tell</p> -<p class='line0'>How, when Apostles ceased to pray, they fell.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A grateful feeling comes over me at every remembrance of my -visit to Hursley, for I felt all the time like an intruder, receiving -privileges beyond my power to repay, while my kind entertainer -seemed as one who desires no such tribute to his genius as mere -tourists are wont to afford. An inferior character might be flattered -to find himself sought out, of every traveller; but all the -heartfelt kindness of the vicar of Hursley was no disguise, to -me, of a spirit that loves the Paradise of a blessed seclusion from -the world, and which nothing but benevolence can prompt to -welcome the stranger, that desires to see him face to face, and to -thank him for the soothing influences and inspiring harmonies of -his perennial songs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Winchester, there are three great sights, besides several of -minor interest: the hospital of St. Cross, the college of Wykeham, -and the cathedral. Let me first speak of the school, a sort -of Eton, but less aristocratic, and certainly far less attractive in -its site and circumstances. It glories, nevertheless, in its founder, -and in his fellow-architect, Waynflete, and in many eminent -names in Church and State. Enough that it bred Bishop Ken; -and that his initials may be found, cut with his boyish hand, in -the stone of the cloisters. In the chapel, what chiefly arrests the -eye, is the gorgeous window, with its genealogy of the Saviour, -displayed in the richest colours and designs. The library, within -the area of the cloisters, was an ancient chantry, designed for -masses for the dead in the surrounding graves: and, I confess, I -wish it were still a chapel, in which prayers might be offered, and -the dead in Christ commemorated, although not as aforetime. -Without particularly describing the hall, or refectory, I must not -omit to mention the time-honoured <span class='it'>Hircocervus</span>, or picture of “the -Trusty-servant,” which hangs near the kitchen, and which emblematically -sets forth those virtues in domestics, of which we -Americans know nothing. It is a figure, part man, part porker, -part deer, and part donkey; with a padlock on his mouth, and -various other symbols in his hands and about his person, the -whole signifying a most valuable character. This for the college -menials; but the boys also are made to remember by it, that, for -a time, “they differ nothing from a servant, though they be lords -of all.” In the lofty school-room, they are further taught, in -symbols, the Medo-Persian character of the laws of the school. -A mitre and crosier are displayed as the rewards of scholarship -and fidelity; an ink-horn and a sword intimate that a blotting-out -and cutting-off await the incorrigible; while a scourge suggests -the only remedy, known to the school, short of the final -penalty. Under these salutary emblems, the Wykeham boys of -many generations have read and pondered the legends, which -explain them severally, thus—<span class='it'>Aut disce—aut discede—manet sors -tertia cædi!</span> Tables of the college laws are set up with like publicity, -after the manner of the Decemvirs. It is evident that the -Wykehamists are in no danger of forgetting that “manners maketh -men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Through a pleasant meadow, and by a clear stream, I made -my way to the hospital of St. Cross, founded by Bishop De Blois -seven hundred years ago: yet, in conformity with the will of that -prelate, when I knocked at the porter’s lodge, I was duly presented -with a slice of bread and a horn of wholesome beer, which -I was just then quite thankful to receive, and to despatch in -honour of his memory. To such a dole is everybody entitled -who applies in the same manner: and a larger charity is, at stated -times, distributed at the same place, to the neighbouring poor. -The establishment to which I was admitted, after such an introduction, -is one of the most interesting objects I ever saw. Its -old courts and halls reminded me not a little of Haddon; a pair -of leathern pitchers were shown me, as vessels which once held -ale for Cardinal Beaufort: but its chapel is indeed a relic of surpassing -interest. It is built in cathedral form, and combines both -Saxon and Norman details, with the first formal step towards the -pointed arch. From the intersection of two of its circular -arches, according to some, sprang Salisbury cathedral—the whole -idea, from crypt to the vanishing point of its spire. And from -this last remnant of conventual life, why should not the true -idea of such establishments be in a similar manner revived -throughout Christendom? Here live some dozen poor and aged -men, who else would have no home on this side heaven. Each -wears a flowing garment of black, with a silver cross shining on -its cape: they call one another brother; they study to be quiet; -prayer is their only business; and order and neatness reign -throughout the holy place. No one can visit St. Cross without -praying that the Church of England may be blessed with hundreds -more of just such homes for aged poverty, and that wherever -wealth abounds in her communion, it may be devoted to -erecting them.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Winchester Cathedral—Relics—Netley Abbey.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Winchester Cathedral I attended Morning Service, on the -feast of St. John Baptist. I am sorry to say that here, too, the -service is ill-performed; not that there is nothing to enjoy in -it, even now: but that when one reflects what ought to be the -daily worship of such a cathedral, and what it might be, if the -laws of the cathedral were enforced, and if a holy zeal were more -characteristic of its dignitaries: there is nothing to say but—<span class='it'>shame</span> -on things as they are. When will the conscience of England -clamour against such disgraceful poverty of cathedral worship; -and when will the brain of England wake up to a sense of -what these churches might do for the nation, if rightly served -and administered? The feature of this cathedral which most -impresses the stranger, is its far-sweeping length of nave and -choir, with the light or shadowy vistas, through columns and -arches, which seem to multiply its interminable effect. In its details -it is also very rich, and several of its monuments are of unequalled -magnificence. Here lies, in his superb chantry, William -of Wykeham, whose mitred and crosiered effigy, stretched at full -length upon his sepulchre, seems sublimely conscious of repose, -after a life of vast achievement, in rearing schools for youth, and -colleges for the learned, and palaces for princes, and hospitals for -the poor, and temples for God. Bishop Wayneflete is not less -superbly sepulchred in a small chapel, or chantry, of elegant design, -beautifully enriched, and gilded, and kept in complete -repair by the Fellows of his College, at Oxford. His effigy bears, -in clasped hands, a heart, which he thus uplifts to heaven, as it -were, in fervent response to the <span class='it'>Sursum Corda</span> of the Liturgy. -Over against this chantry rises, in twin magnificence, that of Cardinal -Beaufort: but in spite of its placid air, beneath those -solemn tabernacles one looks upon his figure with painful remembrances -of the death-scene which Shakspeare has so powerfully -depicted. “He dies and makes no sign,” is the awful thought -that haunts the mind, as one lingers about this perpetual death-bed; -and yet it is not difficult to conclude the inspection with the -more charitable ejaculation of King Henry—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.</p> -<p class='line0'> Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close,</p> -<p class='line0'> And let us all to meditation.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>But Bishop Fox’s monument and chapel are even more affecting -than any of these, from its peculiar combination of ingenious -sepulchral devices, with elaborate graces of architecture. It is -overpowering, after examining the splendours of its canopy and -fretwork, to descend to the little grated recess beneath, where the -subject of all this monumental glory is represented in the humiliation -of death and the grave. It seems like looking into Hades. -One sees a ghastly figure of emaciation and decay; the eyes lying -deep in their sockets, in a frightful stage of decomposition, and -the whole frame exhibiting the power of death over the flesh of -the Saints, but suggesting that, while patiently submitting to the -worst that worms can do, it rests in hope and speaks out of the -very grave—“I know that my Redeemer liveth.” In a corresponding -chapel, but of low architectural character, on the other -side of the choir, lies the cruel Stephen Gardiner, the unfortunate -son of an adulterous Bishop, and the fitting purveyor of fire -and faggot to the Bloody Mary. The nuptials of this sulphurous -sovereign with Philip of Spain, were celebrated, by-the-way, in -the Lady-Chapel of this cathedral. Strange that the same -Church which entombs her favourite Gardiner, should also contain -the sepulchre of that bloated Hanoverian, the notorious -Hoadly, surrounded with such emblems as the cap of liberty, and -the Magna Charta, in close juxta-position with the crosier and -the Holy Bible! The character of the Bishop would have been -better symbolized by some ingenious device illustrative of the -truth, that—“the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s -crib.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One cannot but hope that the superb altar-screen of this cathedral -will be more fully restored than at present, and that a proper -altar, or Holy Table, will be added, such as may illustrate -the true spirit of the Anglican Liturgy, and the richness of its -Orthodoxy. A poverty-stricken altar is surely no recommendation -of reformed religion; and were I only an ecclesiologist, it -would delight me to show that such a Holy Table as even the -Court of Arches could not presume to desecrate, might be erected, -in strict conformity with the Anglican ritual, and in perfect keeping -with such a choir, that should put to shame the tawdry -Babylonianism of the Romish altars on the Continent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While speaking of the choir, let me not forget the little chests -which surmount the screens of the sanctuary. Who can look at -them without emotion, when informed that they contain all that -remains of princes and priests, and of mighty kings, and fair -ladies, their queens. There are the remains of Canute and of -Rufus, of “Queen Emma and the Bishops Wina and Alwyn.” -On one may be read the inscription—“King Edmund, whom this -chest contains, oh, Christ receive.” Another, marking the era -of the Rebellion, with a striking trophy of its infamy, bears the -legend—“In this chest, in the year 1661, were deposited the -confused relics of princes and prelates, which had been scattered -by sacrilegious barbarism, in the year 1642.” The havoc made -by the Puritans in this holy place is everywhere painfully visible. -The beautiful chapel, in the rear of the choir, is filled with fragments -of carved work and mutilated sculpture, which bear silent -witness against the “axes and hammers” of the Puritans: while -many a corresponding “stone out of the wall” seems to cry -shame, and “many a beam out of the timber, to answer it.” The -noble figure of a knight, in bronze, upon an altar tomb, bears -the marks of their indiscriminate violence, in deep cuts or hacks -made by a sword, apparently in a spirit of wanton brutality. It -was refreshing to turn from such Vandal tokens, to the simple -memorial of one who lived in the age that produced them, but -whose character furnishes altogether as striking a contrast to the -turbulent spirit of his times, as the still waters and green pastures -of his native land afford to the elements of the Lapland storm. -In Prior Silkstede’s chapel, I paid a parting reverence to the slab -that covers the honourable remains of Izaak Walton. Verily, -he served God in his generation: for when they knew not how -to sport at all, he spake of fishes, and when again they sported -like fools, he spake of men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a walk through sweet meads, and by a clear stream, I -climbed St. Katherine’s hill, and took a full view of the city and -its suburbs; and soon after left for Salisbury. It was, indeed, a -feast day, that day of St. John the Baptist, on which I saw two -such cathedrals as Winchester and Salisbury: the former, characterized -by all the grandeur of the long-drawn aisle—the latter, -by all the glory of the culminating spire. The emotions inspired -by the one were those of a well-chanted service; but I found the -effect of the other like that of a rapturous anthem. I speak now -of the external views only: and certainly my first view of Salisbury, -that fine midsummer evening, was as a vision of Paradise. -The heavenward shooting of all its parts, and the consummate -unity of effect with which they all blend in the sky-piercing -pyramid, around which they are grouped, exceeds all that I ever -saw of the kind. I only grudged to the levels of Salisbury, -what ought rather to crown such a sovereign hill as that of -Lincoln.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This Church is familiar to the architect as the full-blown flower -of his art. It stands in a lonely retirement from the town, and, -sitting down in its precincts to enjoy the view, I found myself -uninterrupted in my meditations for a long, delightful hour, the -only intruders being some nibbling sheep that pastured under the -walls, and the chattering rooks, that seemed to amuse themselves -in making a spiral flight round the spire, and so winding up from -its base to its tapering point. Beautiful for its figure and its -decoration, is that spire, and so is the incomparable tower, from -which it springs like a plant; and wherever the eye rests in wandering -over the splendours of its surrounding walls, buttresses, -pinnacle, arches, and gables, all is in keeping, and one spirit -seems to animate the pile. I am sorry to confess disappointment -as to the interior. It is so neglected, and has been so much impaired. -The clustered columns that support the tower have -yielded to its weight, and are visibly bowed and sprung from their -piers. The chapter-house exhibits a shameful neglect, and its -beautiful decorations have suffered from violent abuse. The present -Bishop is exerting himself effectually, however, in the work -of restoration: and one cannot but hope that the next generation -will see this cathedral the seat of a living and working system of -diocesan zeal, and the centre of Gospel life and influence to the -surrounding rural district, and its many needy souls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A series of altar tombs, in the nave and aisles, gives a peculiar -effect to the spaces between the columns, and to the arches above. -Among them is the tomb of an unfortunate nobleman, who was -hanged for murder some three hundred years since, and over -which was, for a long time, suspended the silken noose which -suspended him. The tomb of a boy-bishop, marked by a little -figure in pontificals, is a curious relic of mediæval mummeries; -and not less so is the sepulchre of Bishop Roger, a Norman, who -first attracted the admiration of King Henry I., by the galloping -pace at which he contrived to get through a mass. I paid a more -reverent tribute to the plain slab that covers Bishop Jewell, who, -with all his faults, deserves the rather to be reverenced, because -this age has bred a set of men, who seem to take pleasure in -spitting upon his memory, while defiling, with equal insolence, -the face of their Mother the Church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As evening came on, I took a post-chaise for Amesbury and -Figheldean, where I had been invited to visit that interesting personage, -Mr. Henry Caswall, a clergyman who has done, perhaps, -more than any other man, to make known, in England, the history -and peculiar characteristics of the American Church. He -is by birth an Englishman; he is nevertheless in American orders, -and thus, in his person, unites the Church in which he ministers -to that in which he received his commission. The interest with -which I now sought his acquaintance may therefore be imagined. -After a pleasing drive over the downs, and a rapid inspection of -the curious remains of “Old Sarum,” I found myself in a small, -but picturesque hamlet, in which almost every house was thatched, -clustered at the foot of a knoll, on which rose the parish -Church of “Filedean”—for so it is pronounced. In a few -minutes I was Mr. Caswall’s guest, and, for the first time since -leaving home, I was able to talk over American subjects with one -who entirely understood them. After a cordial reception by his -amiable family, a long and cheerful review of American matters -closed this very happy and memorable day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was much entertained to observe in Mr. Caswall many of -those traits of enterprise and efficiency which seemed to me to be -developments of what we should call Western life, though the -English would consider them simply American. That he is naturally -enterprising and ingenious to a great degree, I am sure no -one can doubt: it was probably this characteristic which originally -led him, though a nephew of the Bishop of Salisbury, to -seek the wilds of Ohio, and to become a Missionary under Bishop -Chase. But who, that had not been disciplined to invention in -our Missionary field, could exhibit, as he does, the fruits of this -faculty, in an exuberant degree, amid all the comforts of an English -vicarage! A river runs near his Church; he has boats upon -it of his own construction, and one has paddle-wheels. In the -tower of his ancient Church, there ticks a clock of very curious -mechanism: it is entirely of his own manufacture; he cast one -of its wheels in Kentucky, and bought another in New-York! -So, too, he has lately built an organ, which discourses excellent -music; and his other ingenuities are innumerable, to say nothing -of his very able works, in which he always contrives to tell what -is worth knowing, and to say what is just to the point.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In his neighbourhood is Milstone, the birth-place of Addison, -to which he conducted me with obliging enthusiasm. The native -nest is a modest parsonage, hard by the Church, which is one of -the very humblest of its kind, and has no tower. I peeped in at -the windows, and saw where Addison was baptized. Our walk -was extended to Durrington, where a fine Church was re-appearing -on the foundations of a very ancient one. In the afternoon -of the same day, this kind friend took me to Amesbury, where -the remains of a Roman encampment are still visible in some -trenches and hillocks, which were made by the soldiers of Vespasian. -Thence we went to see the grounds of the once celebrated -Duchess of Queensbury, and a grotto, which was formerly frequented -by the poet Gay. We passed an old lodge upon this -estate, which gave shelter, during the Reign of Terror, to a community -of French nuns. Next, we drove to the famous Stonehenge, -on Salisbury plain. To me, these gigantic remains of -Druid superstition were of surpassing interest: and while my -friend explained to me the various theories of their origin and -use, I found the actual inspection of this old scene of horrible -idolatry, the rather fascinating, because from its still existing -altar, one can just descry over the hills in the horizon, the needle-like -point of the spire of Salisbury. I never felt before, that -England had once been Pagan, and that the Gospel had conquered -it, and made it all that Salisbury is, as compared with this -accursed temple of the idol Bel. The Chaldean Shepherds seem -indeed to have shared their superstition with those of Salisbury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We drove over the plains, so called, to visit Wilton, and my -attention was continually attracted by the shepherds and their -flocks, not unlike, in some respects, to those who are seen on the -Roman Campagna. Their dogs, who do the work of men, in -searching stragglers, and in driving and tending the sheep, are interesting -objects. Of course the story of Hannah More came -often to mind as we encountered these sights. But other interesting -associations were excited by the evident remains of old -Roman roads, which traversed these pasturages in ancient times. -There were, besides, some strange circular hollows, in form like -saucers, of undoubted Roman origin, which lay on either side of -our way as we drove over a sort of ridge-road. As we left the -downs, we had a fine view of the surrounding country, and descried -Trafalgar House, the seat of Lord Nelson, at a distance. -We passed a noble estate of the Pembroke family; and visited -the magnificent Church, at Wilton, reared by Mr. Sydney Herbert, -at his personal expense of sixty thousand pounds. It is a -superb Anglican basilica, a curiosity in England, as departing -from the historical architecture of the realm, and closely resembling -the finest churches of Italy. It is, however, a blessing to -the place, and is largely frequented by the poor. From this -splendid Church we drove to a still more interesting one, although -a church as remarkably poor as this is costly. The smallest and -plainest little Church I had yet seen in England was reached at -last, and reverently entered. A few pews, a chancel and Holy -Table of starving plainness, and a pulpit to match! This was -holy Herbert’s Church—this was Bemerton! I climbed, and -then crawled into the little box of a belfry, to see the bell which -he tolled when he was instituted; and then I went outside, and -looked in at the window, through which he was descried tarrying -long at prayer, on his face, before the altar. How a good life -can glorify what otherwise would be utterly without attractions! -Even in America, I have seldom seen a church look so mean as -that at Bemerton: yet few places have I ever visited with more -of awe and affection; and verily, all the embellishments of the -Sistine Chapel failed to produce in me such a sense of the -beauty of holiness, as did the sight of the humble altar, at which -ministered before the Lord two hundred years ago, that man of -God, George Herbert.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reaching Southampton early in the evening of a mid-summer -day, I had time enough, during the long twilight, for an excursion -to Netley Abbey, which I made in a boat, rowed by an old -waterman and his son, a lad of twelve years. The descending -sun threw its radiance over the bright Southampton water, as -we left the pier, and a pathway of burnished gold seemed to lie -in our wake, as we glided rapidly along. The boy volunteered -to sing a little hymn which he had learned at Sunday School, and, -accordingly the praise of God was sweetly wafted by the sunset -breezes that played about us; and if I have heard more romantic -strains on the Venetian waters, since then, from the gondoliers, -I can testify that they were no sweeter, and not half so inspiring -to a devout disposition. This beautiful bay was filled with many -sails, and the neighbouring shores, on every side, were highly -picturesque. We reached the “glad nook,” whose corrupted -Latin name survives, in <span class='it'>Netley</span>, just in time to disturb the composures -of the rook and owl, as they were congratulating themselves -on the close of the day, and settling for the night, the -one in his dormitory, and the other in his watch-tower. There -was enough of day to display the entire beauty of the ruins, -and enough of melancholy night to give them a mysterious -solemnity. Here I stumbled over piles of rubbish, overgrown -with grass and wall-flowers, among which slender trees have -sprouted side by side with the branching columns of the architect; -while through graceful tracery, and broken vaulting, I -looked up into the deep heaven, and descried the first stars as -they began to twinkle in its unfathomable azure. I fancied I -could hear the gentle sigh of the waters on the pebbled beach, -which spreads hard by beneath its walls, and the charms of the -spot, as a home of religion, became very vividly impressed on my -mind as the soft susurrations appeared to bewail the loss of -responsive vesper-songs from the consecrated pile. It was a -bewitching hour for such a visit: and when I went down into -crypts, and gloomy vaults, which were barely light enough to -enable me to feel my way, and to descry the surrounding outlines -of Gothic ruin, through loop-holes and doorways festooned with -luxuriant ivy, all that I ever read of romance, in its wildest -forms, seemed conjured about me. It was quite dark as we -returned, but the waters glittered with tremulous reflections of -many lights on the shore; and our little pilot sung—“There’s a -good time coming, boys!” with a sort of pathetic thrill, which -made me love him, and I prayed that he might live to see the good -time which he so feelingly promised himself. I conversed with -him freely, and found that he had been taught of God, in the -bosom of the Church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next morning I took the steamer to Cowes. The sail down -the sea of Southampton was very pleasant, and my fancy was as -busy as my sight, as we skirted along the shore, from which the -“New Forest” stretches away towards Dorsetshire, covering -many a square mile of merry England with woods as dense -as those of our own primeval wilds. How exciting to reflection, -the view of a wood which, for so many ages, has perpetuated -the violence of William the Norman, and the tragic memory of -Rufus! A gay little French woman, who knew nothing of the -history, however, and who seemed to take me for an Englishman, -expressed herself, in her sprightly vernacular, in terms of rapturous -delight, with reference to the scenery alone. She was overwhelmed -with the luxurious beauty of England, as contrasted -with the penury which stares you in the face for leagues and -leagues in France, in places where nature only needs a little aid -from cultivation to assume a face as cheerful as those of its -inhabitants. When we passed Calshot Castle, and had the Isle -of Wight in full view, I was nearly as much inspired as herself. -The admirable service which the island renders to the British -fleet, became apparent as we looked towards those “leviathans -afloat,” at Spithead; but I turned with greater interest towards -the <a id='solent'></a>Solent, and tried hard to descry that lonely spur of Hampshire, -on which stands Hurst Castle, the scene of one of the most -thrilling episodes in the closing history of Charles the First. As -we approached Cowes, it reminded me of Staten Island, off -New-York, and, at first, I hardly knew to what I owed the association, -though the similarity of scene is considerable; but -when a second glance showed me a noble ship, of unmistakeable -American proportions, with the American ensign fluttering at -her peak, just under the lee of the island, I felt the home-feeling -overpoweringly, and could have shouted my salutation to my -country’s oak, with full lungs and a fuller heart! I pointed it -out to the French woman, and told her of my country, and then -I was saluted with her voluble congratulations, in such terms as -showed that she, at least, thought it a land of which one has a -right to be proud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Osborne House is a prominent object, on the rising bank of the -Medina, as one drives from Cowes toward Newport, and I looked -with no little interest at the beautiful home in which Victoria -and Albert live the life of private people, without sacrificing the -dignity which they owe it to the nation to sustain. It delights -me to say that they have the reputation of cultivating, there, -every domestic virtue; and I was charmed with a popular print, -which one sees in the neighbourhood, representing the family at -Osborne, on their knees, with the prince reading prayers among -his children.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was fortunate in visiting this gem of the sea, during the -most pleasant part of the year. The hay-makers were at work, -and everywhere a delicious fragrance filled the air. Our drive -from Newport to Chale afforded many pleasing views, and my -first view of the open sea was enchanting. The channel was as -smooth as glass, and the vessels that lay upon it scarcely seemed -to move. From the celebrated Black-gang Chine, the view of -the chalky coast of Dorset, the curving shore of Freshwater-bay, -and the bristling file of cliffs, called “the Needles,” was -truly superb. Then wheeling round the bold head of St. Catherine’s -Downs, we entered that sweet realm of Faerie, called the -Undercliff, where a palisade of rock rises on one side of the -road, and the sea-beach lies below, the exposure being such as to -receive the breath and the sunshine of the genial south, with all -the vigorous breezes of the ocean. Here the roses bloom all the -year in the open air, and Nature has made it all that Nature -could, by a combination of her charms. Indeed, the circuit of -the coast, from here to Yaverland, seen, at various hours of the -day, in all the shifting effects of the sun and shadows, affords a -panorama of incomparable attractions: here a dense grove, and -there a deep cleft in the rocks, intercepting the sea-view, and -then, again, a fresh apocalypse of beauty, breaking upon the sight, -at some unexpected turn of the way. The murmur of ocean -comes to the ear just as the eye catches the numberless smiles of -its surface, and a glimpse through green foliage will often discover -a brilliant perspective, in which the blue sea, and the gray -rocks, and the fading horizon, are enlivened by a stretching show -of snowy canvas, reflecting the golden light of the sun, sail after -sail, the tiniest glittering far off on the verge of the expanse, like -a star in the twilight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Tom-thumb Church of St. Lawrence, with walls six feet -high, and all the rest in proportion; the beauties of Ventnor, -and Bonchurch, and Shanklin Chine; in short, the entire scenery -of the Undercliff is enchanting, and bewitches one with a desire -to build a tabernacle there, and to rest from one’s labours. At -Brading, I paused, in honour of good Legh Richmond, and -visited the grave of his “Young Cottager.” Ryde is a pleasant -place enough, something like our Staten Island towns in situation, -and in many other particulars. But my drive from Ryde -to Newport, through Wooton and Fern-hill, disclosed many of -those inland scenes of rural beauty, for which the Isle of Wight -is unsurpassed. Hedges, thick and green, on each side of the -road, with wild woodbine twisting all over them, and loading the -air with perfumes, were the appropriate frame-work of rich fields, -waving with golden crops, fragrant with new-mown hay, or filled -with pasturing cattle, while here and there they enclosed a little -garden full of flowers, or were broken by the prettiest cottages in -all the world, neatly whitewashed, and trimly thatched, and -planted about with white and red roses, clambering over the windows, -mounting to the eaves, and even straggling among the straw, -to the ridge of the roof. Again I caught a glimpse of the towers -of Osborne; but it seemed to me that the Queen herself might -be willing to exchange them for these charming little snuggeries -of her contented peasantry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I came to the Isle, above all, to see Carisbrooke Castle, -and thither I went, after a night at Newport. It was a bright, -unclouded morning, and I went alone. Over a little bridge -you pass to the great doorway, between two massive towers, -hung with verdure, and pierced with cross-shaped arrow-slits. -All was as quiet and as beautiful as if no history brooded over -the spot, with strange and melancholy witchery. The twitter -of a bird, the nodding of a wild rose in the morning breeze, -the sparkling of the dew upon the leaves, all seemed to share -something of the mysterious spell. ‘How still, and yet how -speaking, thought I, this scene of mighty personal struggles, -of a crisis of ages, of overwhelming sorrows! Is it not conscious -of its own dignity? Poor Charles! after seeing thy brief -wrestling with adversity, it has lapsed into desolation, and lets -the world have its own way, while it alone wears enduring tokens -of sympathy with thee!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I saw the window where the King made one last effort to be -free. Sir Thomas Herbert’s portraiture rose all before me, and -a thousand busy thoughts, which any one may imagine, but -which language fails to arrest, much more to convey. Ascending -to the keep, surveying the undulating scenery, and loitering here -and there among the ruins, the past, the entrancing past floated -around me like an atmosphere; and I felt how much more powerful -than romance, is the charm of historic fact, when invested -with living interest, by associations of religion, by connections -with surviving realities, and by the perpetual attraction and moral -sublimity of an example of greatness and worth, tried in the furnace -of affliction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor did I forget that lily among thorns, the little princess -who died in this doleful prison, of a broken heart, after bewailing -her father’s murder a single year. The sweet child, -Elizabeth! what a thought it was to imagine her moaning her -young life away, amid these gloomy walls, surrounded only by -the butchers of her adored parent, mocking her woes! Among -tales of childhood’s sorrows, there have been few like hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Everybody has heard of “a pebble in Carisbrooke well.” I -tried the usual experiments, and saw a lamp let down in it, three -hundred feet, and then drank of the water, drawn by donkey-power, -with all the sublime emotions conceivable on such an -occasion. There is a story that the well was originally of Roman -construction, and that the Romans had a fortress here, which it -first supplied. At any rate, it is a very good well, and no doubt -administered many a refreshing draught to the royal prisoners, to -whom “a cup of cold water” was well nigh all that the charity -of the place afforded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Crossing from the Isle of Wight to Portsmouth, I had a fine -sight, in the incessant broadsides which were fired by her Majesty’s -ship, the “Vengeance,” anchored at Spithead, apparently for -exercise, or sport. The gallant ship, the blazing port-holes, the -rolling clouds of smoke, and the reverberating thunders, made our -transit, from shore to shore, one of exciting interest. The “Royal -George” went down just in that anchorage, and there she lies -now. I paid a visit to the “Victory,” in the harbour of Portsmouth, -after an unsuccessful effort to board the beautiful yacht, -in which the Queen makes her progresses by sea. On the deck -of the “Victory” fell the idolized Nelson: a small brass plate -marks the spot. After looking at this, and trying to reproduce -the scene, I descended to the cock-pit, and surveyed the dark and -gloomy cell in which he breathed his last, reclining against a huge -rib of his ship. Poor soul! If he had but served God as he served -his King, there would have been a glory in that death, beyond -that of “victory, or Westminster Abbey.” After a rapid survey -of the dock-yards, I made my way, by rail, to Chichester.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A fine market-cross distinguishes this city, and is kept in excellent -repair. But the great attraction is, of course, its cathedral, -a mutilated but still noble structure, which I found well -worthy of a visit. It exhibits some praiseworthy restorations, -and I was pleased to find that its nave is frequently used for sermons. -It has many tombs and monuments of note, and many of -its architectural peculiarities are attractive. Relics and antiquities -connected with the history of the See are shown, and it is -painful to find, in one apartment, mysterious evidence of the ill -uses to which a church could be put, before the Reformation. In -the Bishop’s Consistory Court, there is a secret door in the wainscot -looking like a mere panel. This moves with a slide, and -covers a massive gate, with a lock, which opens into a strong -room, once used as a prison. It was no doubt the scene of suffering -for conscience sake, in the days of the Lollards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After having so lately described other cathedrals of much -greater interest, I will only add, concerning this, that I was much -pleased to note among its monuments the modern one, by Flaxman, -commemorative of the poet Collins. Architecturally, indeed, -it is out of place: but the unfortunate bard was a native of -the cathedral precinct, and the Christian artist has seized upon -that incident in his unhappy life, which attests the consolations -which highest genius may derive from the same source that makes -childhood wise unto salvation. “I have but one book,” said he -to a visitor, shortly before he died, as he held up the New Testament, -and added—“the best.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My next stage was Brighton, where I enjoyed a sea-bath, and -a brief survey of that beautiful creation of fashion. But my -chief enjoyment here was received in the delightful hospitalities -of a distinguished family, which I shall always remember with -sincere regard, as embracing some of the most agreeable persons -I have ever met. Among the varieties of English character -which have most charmed me, those to which I now gratefully -refer, are often reviving in memory, as affording a true ideal of -domestic happiness, enlivened by sentiment, and hallowed by a -spirit of devotion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was forced to make a very rapid survey of the southern coast, -passing by the old abbey at Lewes and the castle at Pevensey; -and pausing scarcely an hour upon the noble beach at Hastings, -and amid the ruins of its castle. With greater regret I was -forced to omit visits to Battle Abbey, to Hever Castle, and to -Penshurst, to the last-named of which I had an especial drawing, -for the sake of Hammond and Sir Philip Sydney. I was engaged -to spend St. Peter’s day at Canterbury, and to be the anniversary -preacher, a privilege to which I was willing to sacrifice, many -other pleasures. Passing, therefore, through some pretty Kentish -scenery, and pausing to visit the old monuments at Ashford, I -made my way, before nightfall, to the city of pilgrimages, and was -received as a guest within the Warden’s lodge at St. Augustine’s. -An anniversary dinner was served in the hall, at which several -distinguished personages were present; and afterwards I saw the -ceremony of admitting a scholar to the foundation. I then visited -the room over the gateway, which lodged King Charles I., on -his bridal tour; and, after service in the chapel, retired to my -room in this holy and religious home of the Church’s children.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXX'></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>St. Augustine’s Chapel—St. Martin’s—Addison—Thompson.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the chapel of St. Augustine we kept St. Peter’s Day, and -commemorated the benefactors of the college. It was a cheering -spectacle to behold around me those missionary youths, devoted to -the noblest warfare which can enlist the energies of man, and -destined, as I could not but pray, to see and to achieve great -things in the extension of the kingdom of Immanuel upon earth. -And how inspiring to them the associations with which they are -surrounded! On the very spot which they inhabit, the Missionary -Augustine preached the Gospel to their ancestors, when -Anglo-Saxons were but pagans, and now they go forth from it, -as from the very centre of Christian civilization, to bear the precious -seed to the uttermost isles of the sea, so that what England -is, Australia may become.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the afternoon, I preached in old St. Martin’s, which probably -is the very oldest Church in England. Its name of St. Martin -is probably a second designation, given to it when it was fitted up -for the use of good Queen Bertha, before the conversion of her -husband, Ethelbert. Such a Church is spoken of by Bede, as -having been built before the Romans left the island; and as -Roman bricks, of unquestionable antiquity, are a large portion -of the material of this Church, it is on this and other accounts -generally dated from A. D. 187, and supposed to have been originally -erected by some good Cornelius of the Roman army. Be -that as it may, Queen Bertha’s tomb is in the choir to this day: -and the ancient font is with good reason supposed to be that in -which Ethelbert was baptized. What hoary antiquity, what -venerable and august dignity invest this sacred place! It is of -humble dimensions, and both without and within bears the marks -of its primitive character, in its plainness and simplicity, but it -is kept in good repair, and regarded with the affectionate reverence -which is so becoming. The yews and the ivy which adorn -it with their shade, are, apparently, almost as old as the Church: -and the church-yard gently slopes from the church-door to the -road-side, giving a beautiful elevation to the old pile, and presenting -a highly picturesque effect to the passer-by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But how shall I describe the cathedral, whose huge bulk everywhere -lifts itself into sight above this curious and reverend old -town? The metropolis of the Anglo-Catholic communion is -graced by an Archiepiscopal church, every way worthy of the -majestic relations which it bears to Christendom. There it stands, -like the Church of England itself, worthy to be “the joy of the -whole earth,” and not more magnificent and imposing, than harmoniously -chastened throughout with an air of sovereign splendour -subdued by solemn propriety. There is about it, as compared -with other English cathedrals, a sort of aggregated look, -strikingly significant of the massively conglomerate body which -the Anglican Church has already become, and something of -which has characterized her from the beginning. The double -cross, in form of which the cathedral is built, very appropriately, -in view of its primacy, heightens this effect: and the result is, that -its prestige is well sustained, when the pilgrim sees before him the -head church of his religion. A blessing on its ancient towers, -and may it more and more become “dear for its reputation -through the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On Sunday and the day following, when I attended service in -the cathedral, I had the best opportunities for surveying it throughout, -under the attentive guidance of Lord Charles Thynne and -the estimable Archdeacon Harrison. I am glad to say that the -service here was very effectively celebrated, though a larger force -would have been more worthy of the place and of the work. -The organ is quite concealed in the triforia, and its sound is somewhat -peculiar as it issues from those high cells, in perfect unison -with “the full-voiced choir below.” As to the effect of the cathedral -upon the eye, I remember no interior, save that of Milan, -which can compare with it for impressiveness; and if, from general -effect, we descend to details, this cathedral is vastly the more -solemn and magnificent of the twain. Its altar, for example, is -one of the most lofty in Christendom, the choir rising from the -nave by a long flight of steps, and the altar being elevated, in like -manner, very high above the level of the choir. The several -ascents and various levels of the Church, instead of too much -breaking its whole, seem to add an air of vastness and sublimity -to the general design. But when one surveys, now the nave, and -looks upwards into the tower, and along the far-sweeping vaultings, -and now the choir and its intersecting arches and vistas; or descends -to that varied undercroft, with its chapels and sepulchres, -and twisted columns, and French inscriptions; or mounts to make -circuit of the tombs and chapels, pausing within “Becket’s Crown” -to admire its unique and anomalous elegance; and then makes his -way through the cloisters into the chapter-house, and finally escapes -into outer day, and looks up again at the vast pile, through -which he has been wondering and wandering so long—the impression -left upon the mind is one of astonishment, like that of the -Queen of Sheba, when “there was no more spirit in her.” I had -seen the spot where Becket fell beneath the stout blows of his -murderers—the marble floor which received his blood still exhibiting -a speaking memorial of the tragedy, in a small mutilation -which was made in sawing out the bloody block, to be carried to -Rome as a relic; I had seen the remains of the same prelate’s -shrine, where his sovereign submitted to flagellation, where -princes presented so many costly oblations, and which once glittered -with such gorgeous wealth before the eye of Erasmus; I had seen -the stone-stairs leading up to his sepulchre, worn away by the -thousands of devotees, among which I reckoned those of certain -Canterburie pilgrims, accompanied by Dan Chaucer himself; I -had seen the tomb of the Black Prince, with his lion-like effigy—over -which dangles his surcoat, a thing of tatters, but which no -one can behold without emotion, when he reflects that it once -encased the beating heart and chivalrous breast of that gallant -Plantagenet. I had beheld the recumbent effigies of the usurping -Lancaster, Henry IV., and his Queen, Joan of Navarre; and -I had surveyed the memorial works, or sepulchres, of the primates -of all England, from Lanfranc to Chichely; but after all, I bore -away no remembrance more pleasing than that of the monumental -window and tomb of the late Archbishop Howley, commemorating, -as they do, a most worthy prelate, and marking the great -epoch of a revival of theology, and of practical faith, throughout -the Church of England. This tomb is surmounted by the recumbent -effigy of the Bishop, and presents a most graceful specimen -of reviving art. He is habited in his sacred vestments, to which -the addition of the cope gives completeness and effect; and as the -Archbishop wore that vestment at the coronation of Queen Victoria, -there was reality to justify its use. In short, I was glad to -see that even in the cathedral of Canterbury, and without servility -in copying the antique, our own age can erect a monument, -and surmount it with a figure, literally true to its original, which -is worthy of the place as a work of art; and which, if it is more -modest than the mediæval sepulchres which surround it, is still in -perfect keeping with all their splendour; while it tells the simple -story of a primacy the most brilliant in its contemporary achievements -of any that has ever blessed the Church of England, since -the days of Augustine. It will be forever celebrated as distinguished -by the rapid extension of Anglican Catholicity in all -quarters of the globe, and by a holy effort for the restoration of -unity to the Church of God.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The city of Canterbury abounds in quaint nooks and corners—old -gates, and fragments of wall;—and, in particular, is marked -by an ancient mound, or artificial hill, called the <span class='it'>Dane John</span>, -which is much reverenced as a work of the aboriginal Britons. -Some will have it that it was raised against the Danes, as its -name appears to import; but it strikes me as something of religious -origin, and not unlike those mysterious <span class='it'>tumuli</span> which abound -in our own Western country. If truly British, indeed, who -knows but some primeval <span class='it'>Madoc</span> built both it and them?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was my fortune to hear in the cathedral, as an anthem, that -<span class='it'>chef d’œuvre</span> of Sternhold and Hopkins, which must have been -written in some fit of poetical inspiration, vouchsafed to them -for those two verses only—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“The Lord descended from above</p> -<p class='line0'> And bowed the heavens high,” &c.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The extract has been set to noble music, but who was the composer -I cannot say. After a visit to the Deanery, and a gratifying -survey of its long gallery of ecclesiastical portraits, I was shown -into the surrounding gardens, and conducted to almost every part -of the cathedral precincts, and finally dismissed by an ancient -gate, which, owing to some tradition, retains the romantic name -of Queen Bertha’s postern. But let me not conclude my remembrances -of Canterbury without a warm tribute to the delightful -society to which I was introduced at St. Augustine’s, and among -the dignitaries of the cathedral. The esteemed Warden, who received -me as his guest, and who so kindly entertained me, deserves -my most grateful acknowledgments.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the morning of my departure, rising very early, and accompanied -by a friend, to whom I had become warmly attached since -my arrival in England, I drove out, through pleasant Kentish -scenery, to the parsonage of Borne, which is from Canterbury -three miles distant, according to Izaak Walton; following the -example of the many, who once did so, to see the face of the -venerable and judicious Richard Hooker, though I could only -hope to see his tomb, and the church in which he ministered. I -shall never forget that morning drive, nor the reverence with -which, at length, I beheld Hooker’s own church, and the parsonage -in which he so loved to see God’s blessings spring out of the -earth about his door. I entered the holy place, and there was -his bust, coloured by the old artist to represent life: and looking -at it, through my hands, so as to shut out the surrounding parts -of the monument, I was verily able to conceive that I beheld -good Master Hooker in his pulpit, about to speak. It imprinted -a live idea of the man upon my memory, which I would not lose -for many costlier things. The place called up many of those -graphic anecdotes which his quaint biographer has chronicled -concerning him; but I was especially reminded of that scene between -the Puritan intruders and the old parish clerk, who, when -they sat down on joint stools to partake their communion, said, -as he resigned the keys with a heavy heart, “Take the keys and -lock me out, for all men will say Master Hooker was a good man -and a good scholar, and I am sure it was not used to be thus in -his days.” I could not but remember, moreover, that within -those walls Hooker had passed many a lonely Ember-day, locked -up for fasting and prayer; and ‘who knows’ said I to myself, -‘but we are even now realizing the blessed answers to those intercessions -for the Church, in all parts of the world?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On my way up to London, I paid a visit at S—— Park, the -residence of a young country squire, who had lately taken his -degrees at Cambridge, married, and settled here on his hereditary -estate. The life of an English gentleman, of this degree, has -always struck me, as nearly the most perfect realization of sublunary -bliss, which the world affords. Nor did the glimpse which -I thus gained of such a life, in the least disappoint me. The -young mistress of the mansion, in the momentary absence of her -husband, kindly made herself my guide, over a portion of the -estate, in search of him. No ceremony—and no attempt to appear -fine. In a moment she was ready, and as she led me hither -and thither, she was not above taking me to her poultry-yard, -and her dairy, and showing me her amateur farming. We entered -a fine field of standing corn—the golden wheat of Kent—and -as we passed through the narrow foot-path, my fair guide informed -me ’twas their way to parish church, and just then -I descried the church itself, at a little distance, in its modest -beauty, at the foot of a hill. A lark flew up, and she pointed at -the little fellow, as he mounted the skies, and poured out his -song, reminding me of a remark I had made to her, that we have -no sky-larks in America. She entered a pretty farm-house, where -a decent-looking family were just taking their tea: they treated -her as they would have done a descended angel, while she, in the -prettiest tones, inquired whether they “had seen their Master -thereabout,” and so, thanking them, departed. We soon encountered -the young “Master,” who gave me a kind welcome, and -showed me the further attractions of the estate. Then home, -and soon to dinner, and after that, a pleasant summer evening -sauntering about the doors and under the old trees of the park, -where the rooks kept up a great cawing in consequence of our intrusion. -In many respects, the place did not differ much from -many American residences that I have visited; but in others it -did, and chiefly in the entire ease and nature with which everybody, -from the squire to his humblest menial, nay, even the house-dog, -fitted his place, and seemed to enjoy it. We have no servants -in America, though we have slaves. All white-complexioned -people scorn to obey. Hence the misery and the stiffness of -housekeeping, and the deplorable multiplication of those vulgar -establishments called “fashionable hotels.” Let me add, concerning -this happy abode of unostentatious English comfort and refinement, -that what especially pleased me was the devout appearance -of the household servants at family prayers. They all -joined in the devotions, and each had a Prayer-book in hand, -which appeared to be a cherished companion of their daily -routine. Happy the household where all the inmates, from -the least to the greatest, have one Lord, one faith, and one -baptism.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ancient castle and the cathedral of Rochester were taken -in my way up to London; but, interesting as they are in themselves, -I might fail to make them attractive, in a description so -vague as I should be obliged to give them, and so, with a passing -tribute to their merits, as religious and feudal monuments of the -past, I must again return to London.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In frequent visits to Westminster Abbey, I had become familiar -with every portion of it, including cloisters, chapter-house, and -library. In the library, by the politeness of one of the dignitaries, -I was favoured with a minute inspection of some of its -most precious historical deposites. Such were the dies from -which were struck the coins of Henry Fourth, and many succeeding -sovereigns, rude works of art, depending upon blows of -the hammer to produce their impression. In the chapter-house -is the original Domesday-book, and many other historical documents. -I was shown the instrument by which Edward I. was -authorized, by twenty-three competitors, to settle the Crown of -Scotland upon one of their number. The seal of Bruce’s father -is very distinctly visible. Here are Henry VII.’s very minute -instructions to his commissioners to examine the personal claims -to his choice, of a young princess, whom he proposed to marry, -with their not over-gallant reports. A superbly decorated -instrument, dated at Amiens, August 18, 1527, and signed by -Henry VIII., and Francis, was also a great curiosity. It has a -golden seal, with the legend—<span class='it'>Plurima servantur fœdere, cuncta -fide</span>. Among other parchments, one signed by Mary, as Queen -of France, with her husband Francis II., was interesting. I -saw also the stamp, used by Henry VIII., to affix his signature -to parchments, in his dying days; a prayer-book of Queen -Elizabeth’s; and a fine old Missal of 1380, from which some zealous -reformer had erased the service for Becket’s-day, and several -prayers for the Pope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But all these were inferior in interest to the tombs and -chapels of the Abbey. Many of the monuments are in wretched -taste, and a general banishment to the cloisters, of those which -are not in keeping with the architecture of the church, would be -a great improvement. The residue should then be repaired and -decorated. But even as they are, they present a most interesting -epitome of history, and a most affecting commentary on the -vanity of worldly grandeur and greatness. With Henry VII.’s -chapel, and its royal sepulchres, I was greatly impressed, and -the near neighbourhood of the tombs of Mary and Elizabeth, -struck me as forcibly as if I had never heard of the strange -proximity, in which they, who once could scarcely live in the -same world, here mingle their dust with the same span of earth, -and side by side, await the judgment. Oh, what pomp of sepulture -attests the universal reign of death in this ancient temple! -Here, in the chapel of Edward the Confessor, stands the throne, -which has been the glory and the shame of so many who lie -sleeping around it. The rough old stone, inserted in its base, is -the Scottish palladium; and the old monkish fable makes it one -of the stones of Jacob’s pillow, at Bethel. The monuments of -Edward III., and Queen Philippa, and that of Henry V., commanded -my especial attention. Above the latter, are preserved -the saddle, shield, and helmet, which he used at Agincourt. The -body of Edward I. rests beneath a plain altar-tomb. In the -centre of the chapel is the shrine of St. Edward: and it is as -near as possible to these relics of their predecessors, that English -sovereigns are still anointed and crowned in the adjoining choir. -At such times, if these silent tombs are startled by the shouts of -the multitude that cry—<span class='it'>Long live the King</span>, how much more -forcibly they must speak to him, in their mute expressiveness, -reminding him of his nothingness, and calling him to prepare for -a long home in the dust!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To the reflections of Addison and of Irving, in this consecrated -pile, I shall not attempt to add my own. The sweet interpreter -of the moral of this wonderful place, sleeps appropriately under its -tutelage, and few are the graves within it, which more affect a -kindred heart. To see the grave of Addison, which was lately -marked by a small white stone, in the pavement of one of the -chapels, suggests a kind of postscript to his own musings; and, -as I stood, thoughtfully, over it, I seemed to hear his voice, out -of the sepulchre, confirming his living words. I thought, moreover, -how much has been done, since his day, to add to the interest -of the holy place—even in addition to his own grave! -How many tombs I saw, which he did not—his own among -them! Addison knew nothing of Johnson’s sepulchre; stood -not by the rival relics of Pitt and Fox; thrilled not as he approached -the resting-place of a Wolfe, or a Wilberforce; and -little dreamed how much more than the shrine of Kings, his own -last bed would impress a stranger from America, in the nineteenth -century. How transcendant the enchantment with -which genius invests its possessor, where it is paired with virtue! -With what refreshment I often turned from the royal tombs to -the Poets’ Corner; and there, with what reverence did I turn -most frequently to the monuments of those whose high artistic -inspiration was characterized by the pure spirit of love to God. -It was pleasing to behold the memorials of Chaucer, and of -“rare Ben Jonson;” but with a fonder veneration I paused -more frequently before that of the stainless Spenser. I thought -of his words concerning “the laurel”—and how fittingly they -apply to this Abbey, as the—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>      “——Meed of mighty conquerors</p> -<p class='line0'>And poets sage.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>With a different sort of pleasure I surveyed the wonders of -the British Museum. There, a scholar can find all he needs in -the way of literary food, freely bestowed. I do not admire the -new buildings; but the Institution is worthy of a great nation, -and reflects eternal honour on George the Third. Will the -Smithsonian, at Washington, ever rival it? Its newest and its -oldest treasures, were the great stones from Nineveh, so cleverly -described by the <span class='it'>Quarterly</span>. With what emotions I surveyed -those illegible hieroglyphics; and scraped acquaintance with -those “placid grinning kings, twanging their jolly bows over -their rident horses, wounding those good-humoured enemies, who -tumble gaily off the towers, or drown, smiling in the dimpling -waters, amidst the ἀνήριθμον γέλασμα of fish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The English, though a proud people, are really very moderate -in their appreciation of the manifold charms of their incomparable -isle. When I surveyed the river-view from Richmond-hill, I -recalled the glorious waters of my own dear country, and many -a darling scene which is imperishably stamped in my mind’s eye, -and asked myself whether, indeed, this was more delightful to the -sight than those. I was slow to admit anything inferior in the -scenery of the Hudson and Susquehanna, when I compared them -with so diminutive a stream as the Thames, and I even reproved -myself for bringing them into parallel; but over and over again -was I forced to allow, that “earth has not anything to show more -fair,” than the rich luxuriance of the panorama which I then -surveyed. A river whose banks are old historic fields, and whose -placid surface reflects, from league to league of its progress, the -towers of palaces and of churches which, for centuries, have been -hallowed by ennobling and holy associations; which flows by the -favourite haunts of genius, or winds among the antique halls of -consecrated learning; and which, after sweeping beneath the -gigantic arches, domes and temples of a vast metropolis, gives -itself to the burthen of fleets and navies, and bears them magnificently -forth to the ocean; such an object must necessarily be -one of the highest interest to any one capable of appreciating -the mentally beautiful and sublime; but when natural glories -invest the same objects with a thousand independent attractions, -who need be ashamed of owning an overpowering enthusiasm in -the actual survey, and something scarcely less thrilling in the -recollection! When I afterward looked towards Rome, and -descried the dome of St. Peter’s from Tivoli, I felt, as Gray has -somewhere observed, that nothing but the intellect is delighted -there, while on Richmond-hill, the soul and the sense alike -are ravished with the view, and fail to conceive anything more -satisfying of its kind. If ever, which God forbid, the barbarian -should overrun this scene, and make ruins of its surrounding -villas and churches, the contemplative visitor of a future generation -will still linger on those heights with far more of complicated -and harmonious satisfaction than can possibly refresh -the eye that wanders over the dreary Campagna. Yet how -few of the great and fashionable in England have ever allowed -themselves to appreciate the glories of their own scenery after -this sort!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But whether on those lofty banks, or down by the river-side, -or wherever I wandered amid their green retreats, I owned to -myself one sad disappointment. I repeated over and over again -those verses, learned in school-days, in which Collins bewails the -poet of the Seasons:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When Thames in summer wreaths is dressed,</p> -<p class='line0'>And oft suspend the dashing oar,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To bid his gentle spirit rest.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Where was “yonder grave,” and where “yon whitening spire?” -It was with some chagrin that I followed my directions into the -dullest haunts of the town, and into a modernized church, in an -unromantic street, and there soliloquized, over a miserable brass -plate, amid a pile of pew-lumber—“In such a grave your Druid -lies!” It is amusing, on a few square inches of worthless metal, -as entirely devoid of artificial value as it is of intrinsic worth, to -observe the vanity with which a man of rank has contrived to -write his own name in as large letters as those of the poet’s. -“The Earl of Buchan, unwilling that so good a man, and so -sweet a poet, should be without a memorial, has denoted the place -of his interment, &c.”—so reads the inscription. The Earl has -at least the merit of having exactly expressed the character of -his tribute, for it <span class='it'>denotes</span> the place, and that’s all. One would -think a Scottish nobleman might have spared a few guineas in -doing something better for the grave of his countryman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A glimpse of Twickenham, and of the spire of the church -where Pope is entombed, were all that I allowed myself, in honour -of a bard whose faultless verse is no excuse for the frequent indecency -and paganism of its sentiment. It is a curious and revolting -fact that his skull has been purloined, and now belongs to a phrenologist. -I caught a railway view of Dachet-lane, famous for -Falstaff’s experiences in the buck-basket, and so once more to -Windsor! I stopped, over a train, to enjoy one more walk on the -castle terrace, and one more look at Eton college, and then hastened -on to Oxford, to attend the Commemoration. I accepted the -hospitalities of my friends of Magdalen, who lodged me in the -rooms formerly occupied by the Bishop of Exeter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During my visit I did not fail to see the celebrated Dr. Pusey, -who struck me as a younger man than he is generally supposed to -be. His appearance indicates nothing eccentric or ascetic, and his -manners are those of a gentleman at home in the society of his -fellow-men. He has friends and foes at Oxford, as well as elsewhere, -but all seem to regard him with respect as a man of piety -and learning. To me he was less a lion, however, because I have -always regarded the application of his name to the great movement -of 1833, as a mere instance of popular caprice. His share in -it has been less than that of many others; neither the credit of its -good, nor the disgrace of its evil, belongs to him in any superlative -degree. Its progress has left him, with others, far in the rear of its -existing interests; and what has been stigmatized as <span class='it'>Puseyism</span> is -perhaps, when fairly distinguished from the extravagances of a few -fanatics and sophists, the English phase of a world-wide return to -principles that were the life of Christianity, long before Popery was -in existence, and ages before it had bred Protestantism by its violent -reaction.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Oxford and Cambridge.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had seen Oxford in vacation, and again during term; I had -now the privilege of attending its Encænia. The occasion brings -many distinguished persons to the University, and the pleasures -of dining and breakfasting in the college-halls, and with private -parties, are greatly enhanced by such additions to the company of -eminent residents. The ceremonies in the Academic theatre -sadly disappointed me. Imagine an open area, filled with gownsmen -and their friends, and surrounded by tiers of boxes filled -with ladies, above which, near the ceiling, is elevated a third -tier, full of undergraduates. The Dons and doctors, in their -robes, sit on either side of the Vice-Chancellor, at one extremity -of the theatre, in a place something between a row of boxes and -an orchestra. In the presence of ladies and of such grave and -reverend seniors, one naturally expects decorum from all parties; -but though I had often read of the frolics in which the undergraduates -are permitted to indulge on these occasions, I confess -I was not fully prepared for the excessive and prolonged turbulence -of the scene. While awaiting the opening of the ceremonial, -it was well enough to laugh at the cheers of the youth -as they called out successively the names of favourite public -personages, or at their sibilations, when the names of “Lord John -Russell” and “Cardinal Wiseman” were proposed for merited -derision. But when, again and again, as the venerable Vice-Chancellor -rose to make a beginning, his voice was vociferously -outnoised by that of the boys overhead, I began to think the -joke was carried a little too far. There had been some omission -of customary music, and to supply the deficiency, uprose those -legions of youth, and shouted—<span class='it'>God save the Queen</span>, in full chorus, -stanza after stanza, till the Dons looked eminently disloyal in -their impatience. The Creweian Oration was delivered by the -Public Orator, and I was particularly desirous of marking his -pronunciation of Latin words, as well as the general merit of a -performance in which once, upon a like occasion, Bishop Lowth -so handsomely acquitted himself. But, I think, I speak within -bounds when I say that scarcely an entire sentence could be -heard, from beginning to end. All manner of outcries assailed -the speaker, from his rising till he surceased. At one time, an -extremely impudent personality excited a general smile. The -orator waxed warm as he spoke, and growing quite rubicund of -visage, some flagitious freshman cried out—“Pray stop; it makes -me hot to look at you.” Several distinguished individuals, -bishops and generals, and scientific men, were presented to receive -the <span class='it'>Doctorate in Civil Law</span>, and now I supposed the hospitality of -the University would suffice to shield the eminent personages from -the annoyance of such untimely fun. But there was no cessation, -and when Sir W. Page Wood was presented, there was a -merry cry of “<span class='it'>inutile lignum</span>,” at which no one laughed more -heartily than the party himself. Verily, thought I, if this were -unheard of in England, and were only set down in the book of some -peregrine Dickens, as what he saw in America, at a Harvard -Commencement, how inevitably would it figure in reviews and -newspapers as a telling fact against the disorganizing tendencies of -democratic education! In Oxford, it is regarded as a mere outbreak -of youthful merriment, and such is indeed the case: and -yet, unless <span class='it'><a id='encaen'></a>Encænia</span> and <span class='it'>Saturnalia</span> are synonymous terms, one -must be allowed to think the custom best honoured in the breach. -I must add, that during the delivery of a poem, by an undergraduate, -his comrades showed more respect, and the tumult -subsided for a time, like that of Ephesus, on the remonstrance of -the town-clerk. The young poet pronounced his numbers in the -same tribune where once stood Reginald Heber, enchanting all -hearers with his “Palestine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A lunch in the superb new hall of Pembroke, of which many -ladies partook with the other guests, giving the hall an unusually -gay appearance; a dinner at Oriel, and afterwards sport with -bowls, and other games, in the garden of Exeter; and, finally, a -very agreeable evening party at Magdalen; these were the other -occupations of the day, in which I greatly enjoyed the society with -which I mingled. I was particularly pleased to observe the enthusiasm -of the female visitors of Oxford, many of whom had come -up for the first time, and were less acquainted with the place than -myself. It was a novel pleasure, on my part, to turn <span class='it'>cicerone</span>, -and to explain to a group of English ladies, the wonders of the -University.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next morning, after breakfast at Merton, and a lunch at Jesus -College, with some kind friends who were preparing to leave -Oxford for the Long Vacation, I went, in the company of some -of them, to Bedford, and there took coach for Cambridge. I -thought of John Bunyan, who once inhabited the county-jail, in -this place, and there composed his wonderful allegory; and as I -began to travel along the banks of the Ouse, I thought of William -Cowper, who was one of the first to do justice to his piety and -genius. If the Church of England, sharing in the fault of the -times, (and visiting others with far milder penalties than both -Papists and Puritans laid upon her) was in any sort a party to -his ill-usage, it must be owned that she has done him full justice, -in the end. He owed his enlargement to the Bishop of Lincoln’s -interposition, and Cowper and Southey have affixed the stamp, -and given currency to the gold of his genius. I am ashamed -that he was not taken into the Bishop of Lincoln’s house, and -made a deacon, and so cured of the mistaken enthusiasm which -was evidently the misfortune of the tinker, and not the natural -bent of the man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our journey lay over a dull and level country, and there was -little to enliven it, except the conversation of a young Oxonian -going to see the rival University. A cantab, returning from Oxford, -maintained a good-natured debate with him, in favour of -his own <span class='it'>alma-mater</span>. We went through St. Neot’s, where I remembered -Cowper again; descried at the distance of some twenty -miles the majestic bulk of Ely Cathedral, and finally greeted the -fair vision of King’s College, conspicuous among the other academic -homes of Granta. It was the fourth of July—and thoughts -of the very different scenes through which my friends were passing -in America, were continually in my mind. Here it was not -thought of, though a day which has left its mark upon Great -Britain, and the world. Was it the day of a rebellion? By no -means; unless the day that seated William of Orange on the -throne of England was such. Our fathers ceased to be Englishmen, -because a corrupt and incompetent Ministry were resolved -that they should no longer be freemen. I thank <span class='sc'>God</span> we are no -longer at the mercy of such men as Lord John Russell, and Sir -William Molesworth. So I mused, even as I stood, for the first -time, in venerable Cambridge, where some of my forefathers were -educated, and where I felt it a sort of wrong to be disinherited -of a filial right to feel at home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was not disappointed, disagreeably, in Cambridge, but the -reverse; and it grew upon me every hour that I was there. One -of my first visits was to the truly poetical courts of Caius, where -the singular quaintness of its three gates charmed alike my sight -and fancy. “Before honour is humility”—and here the proverb -is translated into architecture. You must pass through the gate -of humility, and the gate of virtue, before emerging through -the gate of honour. Strange that the beneficent founder of -this college, like Dr. Faust, in Germany, should have left his -name to legend-makers and fabulists, and so to comedy, and the -“Merry Wives of Windsor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The noble twin of Oxford is certainly inferior in the appearance -which she first presents to a stranger, and yet, from -the first, the chapel of King’s is a superb sight, which even -Oxford might almost grudge to her sister. I greatly regretted -reaching Cambridge during a vacation, when comparatively few -of the gownsmen were on the spot. Still, having become so -familiar with academic manners, in Oxford, it seemed hardly -necessary to do more than survey the still-life of Cambridge, in -order to understand it as well. The diversities between the -Universities are indeed many, and all my prepossessions are in -favour of Oxford; and yet, after a brief external survey of her -rival, and much conversation with some of her loyal sons, I can -easily understand their attachment to her, and the pride they -take in her reputation, as well as their firm conviction of her -superiority. To an American, indeed, the late election of so -unfit a person as Prince Albert to be their Chancellor, is a surprising -thing; and it is no very bright omen, for the University, -that the prince already aims to shape it, as near as possible, after -the similitude of Bonn, his own garlicky, blouse-wearing, and -pipe-smoking <span class='it'>Alma Mater</span>, in Teutschland. But, on the other -hand, the spirited resistance which was made to that measure, in -bold opposition even to the known wishes of a beloved Queen, is -instanced, by many Cantabrigians, as a proof of devotion to -great principles, of which they have reason to be proud. They -have a thousand better reasons for being proud of their University, -and would that their Chancellor, who is otherwise so well -qualified, had the power to appreciate and feel them half as warmly -as many an American does, from the depth of his soul!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cambridge struck me as an older and less modernized place -than Oxford. Its streets are a labyrinth, and many of them -present the appearance of Continental, rather than of Insular -Europe. One of the first things that struck me was the conduit -erected by the same “old Hobson” whom Milton celebrates, and -from whom comes the adage of “Hobson’s choice.” He was a -carrier, and kept horses to let, but made the Cantabs take the -horse that stood next the stable-door whenever they came to hire. -He certainly was a remarkable man, for what other carrier was -ever consigned to immortality by a monument in Cambridge, -by a practical proverb, and by a memorial in the verse of such a -poet as Milton?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the means of information respecting Cambridge are in -everybody’s hands, and as the picturesque of its colleges and -grounds is familiar from engravings, I shall spare my reader -the trouble of details which might seem a repetition of those -of Oxford. In St. John’s college, which its own men are -accused of considering the University, I found the chapel, -though small and plain, a most attractive place. Its “non-juror -windows,” and other memorials, revive many historical names. -I know not why the Johnians have received the Pindaric epithet -of Swine, but so it is; and the peculiarly pretty bridge, spanning -the Cam, which unites its quadrangles and halls, has -accordingly won the sportive name of the “Isthmus of <span class='it'>Sues</span>.” -In the very pleasant grounds adjacent, I plucked a leaf from the -silver-beech, said to have been planted by Henry Martyn, and -breathed a blessing on his memory. A fellow of Trinity kindly -devoted himself to showing me the attractions of his college, -and they are very great. The library is a Valhalla of literary -heroes, the sons of Trinity, whose busts adorn the alcoves: and -the statue of Byron, by Thorwaldsen, is a superb addition to its -treasures of art, which, on the whole, will do no harm here, -excluded as it was from Westminster Abbey, by a virtuous -abhorrence of the bold blasphemer whom it represents, and thus -stamped as deep with infamy as it is otherwise clothed with -attractiveness. Among the relics of the collection, there were -two which any man must behold with reverence: a lock of -Sir Isaac Newton’s hair, and the original manuscripts of Paradise -Lost, and of Lycidas! Then to the chapel—that chapel -which ever since I read “the Records of a Good Man’s Life,” -in school-boy days, I had longed to see, and where I had often -wished it had been my lot to pray, in college life. In the -ante-chapel, there was that statue of Newton, so beautifully -described by the author, as arresting the melancholy attentions -of a consumptive youth, as he passed it, for the last time, in his -surplice, and confessed that this had been too much his idol, in -that house of God, filling his enthusiasm with the worship of -genius, when he should have thought only of his Maker. I -shall never forget the thrills of excited imagination with which I -received some of my first impressions of Cambridge, in reading -that story of Singleton: and now they all revived as I stood -upon the spot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the attractions of the small colleges, I must not omit -to mention the chapel of Jesus College, which has lately undergone -a thorough restoration, and presents one of the most -beautiful specimens of revived mediævalism in art which I have -ever seen. It is the work of an accomplished gentleman of the -college, assisted to some extent by the voluntary contributions of -undergraduates. Nothing of the kind which I saw in Oxford -can compare with this exquisite Oratory. I went to Christ’s -college and saw Milton’s mulberry—a pleasant memorial of -his best days; the days when he was the “lady of his college” -for youthful comeliness, and the man of his college for the -genius that produced Lycidas, and for the unsoured feelings that -could yet appreciate “the high embowed roofs,” and the -“studious cloisters” by which he was there surrounded. Happy -would it have been for him, had he kept that youthful heart! -The mulberry is propped up like an old man on his staff, and -shielded from the weather by a leaden surtout, but must soon -cease to be the last living thing that connects with the name of -Milton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What a place is Cambridge, when its minor colleges suggest -such names! As I passed what was formerly Bennet college, -I thought of Cowper’s lines on his brother. There, too, was -Pembroke, suggesting thoughts of Bramhall and of Andrewes—of -Andrewes whom even Milton could praise, albeit he was a -prelate. There was Peterhouse, reminding me of good old -Cosin. More than all—there was little Caius (pronounced -<span class='it'>Keys</span>) where Jeremy Taylor, the poor sizar and the barber’s -son, passed so often to and fro, beneath its quaint old gates, -bearing a soul within him, which in after years he poured forth, -like another Chrysostom, and made a treasure for all time. I -am sorry to say there is another college there, which suggests the -odious name of Cromwell, the man who kindled the fiery coals -in which the golden heart of Taylor, and the hearts of thousands -more, were well refined, and seven times purified.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Fitzwilliam Museum is a noble collection of antique -sculpture and architectural relics, with a library and paintings, -and has been housed superbly in a building, which is a great -ornament to Cambridge, although built, in modern taste, and in -Grecian style, suiting the things it contains better than the -place which contains it. I received far more pleasure, however, -from a visit to the celebrated round church, which has been -lately restored, and whose name, St. Sepulchre, refers it to the -era of the Crusades. But how shall I speak of King’s College -Chapel? I was not so fortunate as to see it filled with its -white-robed scholars, but its own self was sight enough. “Such -awful perspective”—indeed! Such tints from such windows—such -carvings—such a roof! It springs and spreads above you, -light as the spider’s web, and yet it is all massive stone, and its -construction is an architectural miracle. I climbed to the roof, -and walked upon that same vaulting, as upon a solid stone-pavement. -It is put together in mathematical figures, and on -principles purely scientific; but modern architects are puzzled -to explain them. Above this, there is another roof, which is -exposed to the weather, and from which one enjoys a fine view of -the town and the surrounding country. The walks and avenues -of limes, which stretch before King’s, and which connect with -the grounds of Trinity and St. John’s, are inferior to nothing in -Oxford, and are generally pronounced by Cambridge men superior -to Christ church meadows and the walks of Magdalen. I -strolled among some magnificent limes in the grounds of Trinity, -which might well apologise for a student’s opinion, that no other -college in the world has such grounds and trees. As for the -river Cam, its beautiful bridges, I am sorry to say, are reflected -in a very sluggish and dirty tide, called “silvery” only by poetical -license.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dining in the hall of Trinity, I was overwhelmed by the -sublime associations of such a place, as illustrated by the portraits -around me. Everywhere were the pictures of great -historic sons of this college; here was Pearson, and there was -Barrow; and before us, as we sat at meat, were Bacon and Sir -Isaac Newton. What children has this Mother borne; not for -herself, but for all mankind! And thus much I will say for -Cambridge, as compared with Oxford, that whereas amid the -architectural glories of the latter, one almost forgets the glory -of her sons, you are reminded, at every turn in Cambridge, that -her chief jewels are the great men she has brought forth. One -cannot give her all the credit, indeed: she has been singularly -fortunate; but when hers are Bacon, and Newton, and Milton, -and Taylor, and stars, in constellations, of scarcely minor magnitude, -what university in Christendom can call itself superior? -If Granta has her peer, there is nothing that is more than that -on earth.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Cathedral Tour—The Border.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>A cathedral tour now lay between me and Scotland, to -which I began to make my way rapidly. All that I had yet seen -of architecture, promised to be the mere preface to what was -still before me, in the splendours of Ely, of Peterborough, of Lincoln, -of York, and of Durham. To my reader it will be impossible -to convey the idea of variety and ever-novel delight with which -these successive miracles of the builder’s art impressed me, as I -passed from one to the other, from day to day; but I will touch -on the more special characteristics of each, in full confidence that -what is most striking in old historic monuments, like these, can -never tire the head that is furnished alike with eyes and brains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The train took me swiftly to Ely, over a fenny district, which -supplied nothing of interest, except the distant view of the -towers, which loomed up, more and more, as we drew nigh the -little city. How different this railway approach from that celebrated -by Wordsworth:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“A pleasant music floats along the mere,</p> -<p class='line0'> From monks in Ely chanting service high,</p> -<p class='line0'> Whileas Canute the king is rowing by!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>I found this magnificent work partly in ruins—partly undergoing -a beautiful restoration; and as the pavement of the choir -was torn up, I beheld a stone-coffin, in which, perhaps, lie the -bones of one of those very monks, who were singing in the days -of King Canute. At my request, one of the workmen raised the -lid of the coffin, and there lay the skull and bones of an old -ecclesiastic, the former quite entire; or, perhaps, it was St. -Ethelfreda herself, who began her building here in the seventh -century. If so, they are repairing her works, in the nineteenth, -in a spirit of nobler art, than she ever imagined. The restorations -are truly superb, and a future visitor will find the choir of -Ely one of the most impressive temples in Christendom. What -an age of restorations this is, in the Church of England! ’Tis a -nobler reformation than that of three hundred years ago—for -that was, necessarily, one of haste and of overthrow. Now a -calm constructiveness is at work, holding fast all that was gained -before; but giving it the finish, which was impossible then. -And these material restorations are but the symbol of a great -spiritual awakening, concerning which, there is one painful -thought which no student of English History should ever forget. -It is this, that but for the Puritans, all this would have been -done in the seventeenth century! Greater and better men were -then on the stage than any that are now living, and all that the -age of Victoria is doing for Christ, it was in the heart of King -Charles to do. It is impossible to say what might not have been -the blessed results for the Universe had the Church of England -been in a condition to tempt the Church of France to an alliance -in 1682. All we can say on the other hand, is that, let Macaulay -declaim as he may, progressive freedom would have been -established in England without the paradoxical intervention of a -Cromwell, while there is nothing left us, as the direct results of -Puritanism, except a few Socinian congregations, and the “Dissenters’ -Chapels’ Bill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The massiveness of some portions of this cathedral, and the -lightness and grace of others, are very impressive. Its length is -very great, and the vista “long drawn out.” Amid its ancient monuments -I spent a solemn hour of musing, while the light of the -descending sun, through the clere-story and lantern, showered a -soft and melancholy radiance over the whole interior, admirably -harmonizing with the reflections it necessarily inspired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found Peterborough another sleepy little city, and the cathedral -beautifully situated, with the Bishop’s palace hard by. It -is a severe, but grand exterior, and presides over the surrounding -trees, and roofs, like a sort of divinity. It is quite free of encroachment -from other buildings; but its close, or precinct, is -guarded by a circuit of prebendal, and other ecclesiastical houses, -with turreted and arched gateways, which seem to command a -reverent approach to the sacred spot. I omit a technical description -of the architecture, but must be allowed to give some account -of the Sunday I spent there, and of one or two little things that -deeply affected me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While the bells were thundering for Morning Service, I stood in -the nave, wholly lost in contemplation of its plain, but massive -majesty. A train of children entered, with their teachers, evidently -a Sunday-school. I watched the little procession as it -wound its way amid the columns, and turned to the left of the -choir. Following them, I saw them enter the choir, by a small -side-door, and as they stepped into it, every little foot fell on a -slab of stone, in the centre of which was a little brass plate, not -so large as one’s hand. When all had gone in, and were kneeling -in their meek array, I drew near, and stooped down to see -over whose dust they had been treading. I read a few words, but -they thrilled me like electricity—“Queen Katherine, 1536!” -Here, then, lies that proud daughter of Arragon, whose mournful -history has left its mark upon nations, and upon Christendom! -The scene in Shakspeare rose before me—Pope—Cardinals—Princes—Henry -VIII. This stone covers all, and peasants’ babes -trip over it as lightly as if the life that lies extinguished there, -had been as simple as their own!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the corresponding spot, on the other side, lies just such -another slab, over another sepulchre. The body has been removed -to Westminster Abbey; but its first repose was here. -The brass has been torn out; but it once read, “Queen Mary, -1587”—for here the poor Queen of Scots was laid, headless, and -festering in her cerements, six months after that fatal day, in the -neighbouring Fotheringay Castle. The date of her interment -offers the best apology for the severity she had suffered, although -nothing can excuse the sin of Elizabeth. It was the year before the -Spanish Armada; and it is now known that she had, <span class='it'>two years previously</span>, -given her kingdom to Philip II., inviting that bloody bigot -to set up his Inquisition among her Scottish subjects, and excluding -her own son from his right. Such was her crime against -her own people, aimed, however, more especially at England, -by her fanatical zeal. Between these solemn tombs of a Queen -of France, and a daughter of Spain, I worshipped that day, and -received the Holy Communion, to my comfort. The anthem was -a familiar strain, from Mozart, which we sing in America to the -Christmas hymn, set to words from the Psalter—<span class='it'>Quam magnificata -opera tua!</span> The Bishop of Peterborough was the preacher, -and I heard him again at Evening Service. As you leave the -nave through the western entrance, you see an odd portrait set -against the wall, that of a grave-digger, spade in hand. Underneath, -you read—“R. Scarlett, died 1594, aged 98.” He buried -the two Queens, and the inhabitants of the town <span class='it'>twice over</span>, as -you learn from uncouth rhymes subjoined. Was ever such a -“king of spades?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next morning I saw “Lincoln, on its sovereign hill,” and -heard the Great Tom—“swinging slow with sullen roar.” The -restorations going on in the choir had driven the service into a -little chapel, near the west end; but the singing was very sweet, -and solemn, though entirely without ceremony. I devoted the -morning to the survey of this model of art, which I like the better, -because it is, in part, a monument of the Anglican Liberties, -as they were maintained in the middle ages, against the Roman -Pontiff. The central tower is the work of brave old Bishop -Grostéte, in the thirteenth century. He was the predecessor of -Wycliffe and Cranmer, in defying the Pope, and in spite of papal -anathemas, he died in peaceful possession of his See. All honour -to his pious memory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is the custom to admire the west front of this cathedral -extravagantly; but I confess that with all that there is to admire -in its separate parts, the whole seems, to me, ill-composed. The -towers, more particularly, strike me as possessing no unity with -the mass of architecture, behind which they rise, as from a -screen, whose broad rectangular frontage detracts from the apparent -height. It is only as seen from the foot of the hill, that the -whole architectural bulk affects the eye sublimely, towering -majestically over the town, which crouches at its base. The -whole pile affords to the architectural student every luxury of his -art, both within and without; but such were the desecrations which -it suffered from the Cromwellians, that few of those gorgeous -shrines, for which it was formerly distinguished, remain, to delight -the ordinary visiter. In the cloisters have lately been discovered -some Roman remains: a mosaic pavement, in particular, -such as the traveller is so often shown in Italy. “The Jew’s -house,” so called, a relic of mediæval art, was more interesting to -me, as connected with the legend of the little martyr who lies -in the cathedral, and who is celebrated by Chaucer, in the tale -of the Prioress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The City of York makes an imposing show, crowned by the -glories of its vast minster, and walled in, like Chester, with -ancient ramparts, which nearly encircle the town. How singular -the reflection that Constantine the Great was a native Yorkshire-man, -born in this town, in A.D. 272! Here, too, his father died, -in A.D. 307, and he succeeded to the empire, going forth to reform -pagan Rome, as I trust the spirit of England has even now -gone forth to do the same for Rome papal. Here, too, died -the Emperor Severus vainly striving to reconcile his sons Caracalla -and Geta. Among the monuments of the Roman Forum, -these names afterward reminded me of York; while, across the -broad Atlantic, the immense city where I had been brought up, -had always been to me, her memorial. How many were the reflections -with which I walked the whole circuit of her walls, and -surveyed the town, the ancient castle, and the surrounding -scenery, and then sailed upon the river beneath! The beautiful -ruins of an old abbey, near the river, still delight the antiquarian; -but after cursorily surveying these, I hastened to the -cathedral.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The western front of the minster is worthy of its extraordinary -fame. The semi-barbarian features of many of the cathedrals -are here superseded by what might seem to be the idealized -perfection of their rude details. The unity which was wanting in -Lincoln, seemed to be here complete and entire; and the rich and -delicate tracery which invests it has the appearance of an elaborate -tissue of lace, fitted over the stone after the substantial part was -complete. From other points of view, the impression is less of -grace, and more of majesty. The whole is sublime in its effect -beyond that of any other cathedral that I ever saw; and even in -Milan, I could not but say to myself, as I gazed on its wonderful -<span class='it'>Duomo</span>—“after all, it is, as compared with York, only a beautiful -monster.” There is something about it which realizes the -idea of a cathedral, in its model form; and this is a charm that is -wanting in many others of its class. In its ample choir, I was -more affected by the service than at any other place, with the -exception perhaps of Canterbury, so far as it depended on the -elevating influence of mere architecture, consciously felt and employed -to ennoble the sacrifice of praise and prayer. With the -survey of the chapter-house, cloisters, and tombs, I was less interested -than with repeated efforts to take in the vast sweep of the -interior, and to animate it with visions of what it may yet become, -when Deans and Canons wake up to the immense responsibility -of their opportunities to work for the glory of <span class='sc'>God</span>. The -tone of the service, and the swell of the organ, even now, give -wings to worship, when the anthem rises beneath this lofty vault, -and dies away in the profound depth of the nave, or spreads itself -amid aisles and columns, with multiplied reverberations and undulations -of harmony; but oh! what might not be its heavenly effect, -were the choir and nave all one, and filled with kneeling thousands, -lifting up their voice with one accord in the overwhelming -common-prayer of the Anglican Church! A friend of mine, -who was once present, in Yorkminster, on a Sunday, realized -something very near what I strove to imagine. The congregation -was swelled by the presence of several regiments of soldiers, who -appeared to take part in the worship, and whose gay uniforms, -as they knelt on the mosaic floor, received a richer splendour -from the tinted lights that flowed down from lofty windows, -where meek saints and mighty princes seem to live again in the -lustre of their portraiture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An early start next morning, a short railway trip, and then a -stage-coach drive of two miles, and then a walk through the -fields, brought me to S—— parsonage, before breakfast, where a -kindly welcome awaited me from my Malvern acquaintances. A -day had been planned for me by the kind lady of the parsonage, -and though it threatened rain, she laughed at the idea of abandoning -it on that account. An American lady would scarcely -have thought of it, even in fair weather, as the excursion involved -not a little exercise of the foot. Off we went in a pony-carriage -to Ripon, where I had time for a hasty inspection of the -minster, lately made a cathedral. It is a severe specimen of Early -English, and affords much to interest the student; but very little -to make a story of, unless we adopt Camden’s explanation of St. -<a id='wilf'></a>Wilfrid’s needle in the crypt. It is a narrow perforation of the -masonry, through which ladies were sometimes required to pass, -when, as Fuller says, “those who could not thread the needle -pricked their own credit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We went through the grounds of Studley Royal, enjoying a -diversified view of beautiful park scenery, till we came to the -neighbourhood of Fountains Abbey, and exchanged our drive for -a walk. We passed through woods, and by little lakes, and over -rustic bridges, and came at last into a walk richly embowered -with trees, along a height, where the foliage completely screened -the view below. Our fair conductress promised us a lunch at a -little halting-place called Anne Boleyn’s Seat. I did not tell her -that I had foreknowledge of the trick she meant to play upon -me; but I sincerely wish that I had never heard of it, for my own -sake as well as hers. Arrived at the spot, we sat down to rest, -when suddenly the lady flung open a door, and before us was -such a view as can be seen nowhere else in the world. We were -balconied, in a lofty window, and below was the beautiful valley -and meadow: at the extremity of which, rise the ancient walls, -chapel window, and tower of Fountains Abbey—the most poetical -ruin in existence. All Italy has nothing to show, that can be -compared with it for beauty, especially if we take into account -the extraordinary charms of the wooded steeps that surround it, -and of the green velvet mead, from which it lifts itself like the -creation of enchantment. Its architecture is vast and majestic -in scale, and the ivy has contrived to festoon and mantle its -magnificence, in such wise as to lend it a grace it never could -have possessed even in its first glory. There is a more sylvan -charm about Tintern. Fountains Abbey is the perfection of -artificial beauty, for even its surrounding nature is impressed with -a look of long and complete subjugation to the hand of consummate -art.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I assured our fair enchantress, that although I had heard of -this surprise before, her playfulness had not been lost on me. I -had expected to enjoy it only under the humdrum operation of -an ordinary guide. She had heightened the effect by her talismanic -touch and artistic air, and I was free to confess that the -effect produced was such, that “the half had not been told me.” -A little streamlet runs through the meadow, like a silver thread -upon emerald; and nothing which a painter could wish is wanting -to make the scene a picture of delight. I could not but -think of the still waters, and the green pastures, and the glorious -mansions of a better world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Abbey was Cistercian, as the fat valley in which it stands -might indicate, according to the rhyme:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Bernard the vales, as Benedict the steeps,</p> -<p class='line0'> But towering cities did Loyola love.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>It was founded, in fact, in the time of St. Bernard, under the -first impulses communicated to Europe by his vast enthusiasm. -But it is in vain that we look for any traces of his asceticism, in -the luxurious splendour of every portion of this noble pile. -Here you enter the lordly refectory; you pass to the ample -kitchen, and ascend to the long range of dormitories. What -prince on earth is better lodged? The chapter-house is on the -same scale of dignity; and the cloisters are a long perspective of -pillared arches, through which the eye can scarcely penetrate to -the end. But the church, with its elaborate chapels, of which -nearly half the pillars are standing in their gracefulness, beggars -description. Its floor is green turf, and its walls are hung with -living tapestry; but it seems still a vast cathedral, and the more -beautiful, for its heavenly vault, and its windows, opening in all -their rich variety of form, bright glimpses of wood and sky. -Everything is in keeping, and the whole is such an epitome of the -monastic system as suggests alike its glory and its shame. The -excavations are still going on, and like those of Pompeii, they are -revealing the most minute and tell-tale particulars of monastic -life. One cannot altogether regret that such establishments are -of the past, and yet the experiment of their reform should have -been fairly tried, before destruction made it forever impossible -to restore them to noble and pious uses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Near the Abbey is a yew-tree of great antiquity, beneath -which, tradition says, the first colony of monks assembled, and -planned their future home. In a secluded spot, a little further -on, I came to Fountains Hall, a pleasant manorial residence. -It was built in the time of the first Stuart, and, I am sorry to add, -of materials, quarried in the old Abbey. Such being the case, I -am glad it is not mine. Sacrilege is so fatal a sin, that I hardly -dared to take away a bit of moss from the Abbey walls; and to -remove a cubic inch of its masonry, was a liberty from which I -shrank, as a sort of irreverence to <span class='sc'>God</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Adieu to Fountains—but the scene will never leave my mental -vision, which will retain as tenaciously, also, the recollection -of those whose company enabled me to enter into the spirit of -the scene, as I never can when alone. Reluctantly bidding them -farewell, I went by rail to South Shields, on a visit to an estimable -M.P., whose acquaintance I had made in London. He is a -man of great natural refinement, and of very superior accomplishments, -having greatly distinguished himself in early life, at -Oxford, though his retiring disposition has kept him from the -ambitious dignities which he might easily have commanded. -Though there are few, in England, to whom I became more -attached, I must add that it was neither from political nor religious -affinities. He is as much of a dissenter as a churchman -can well be, and as little of a John Bull as an Englishman can -well be; but it is my creed, that none but the most narrow-minded -mortals limit their society to those who share their own likes and -dislikes, and never has my contempt for Sallust’s rule of friendship -been more richly rewarded than in the relations which I -formed with Mr. I——. With his liberal feelings towards -America, I was particularly gratified; and it was pleasant indeed to -listen to this estimable man, as he generously eulogized several of -my countrymen, whom he had made his friends. Most attractive -too was his unassuming piety. His Greek Testament was his -familiar companion, and he was sometimes betrayed into scholarly -criticisms of its text, which I could not always adopt, but which -I was forced to admire, as drawn from stores of classical knowledge -and accuracy. I felt it a great privilege to be his guest, and -fell asleep in my chamber, full of happy reflections on the -pleasures of the day, and lulled by the sounds of the sea, which -breaks on the boundaries of his demesne. The morning light -came to my window over the German Ocean, for the King of -Denmark is next neighbour to my friend in that direction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was now among the collieries, but had no desire to know -anything about them. I saw the mouths of the doleful pits -which descend to these human burrows, and to think of the -miserable population below, was enough! There they live, and -die, and are buried while they live, and are far more wretched, -I should imagine, than the servile class, in most cases, among us. -The amelioration of life in the collieries, is by no means neglected -however. England is alive to the spiritual and temporal destitution -of her poor, of every condition; and happy will it be for us, -when our national evils are as deeply felt as those of England -are by Englishmen; when they are as temperately and freely discussed, -and as boldly submitted to an enlightened spirit of progress -and reform.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With my estimable friend, I visited Durham, its cathedral and -University, and enjoyed great privileges in so doing, as the result -of his kindness. On our way, he pointed out the secluded and -saintly Jarrow, and the tower of Bernard Gilpin’s Church. In -this neighbourhood occur two names that startle an American: -he comes to <span class='it'>Franklin</span>, and to <span class='it'>Washington</span>, little villages which -have imparted their names to hundreds of places in America, by -first giving them to two really great men. With us, places are -named from individuals; but in England, the reverse is more -frequently the case.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stupendous”—is the epithet for the cathedral of Durham. -It is the poetry of the frigid zone of architecture, as Milan -cathedral is of its tropics. The first impressions, on entering, -were instinctively those of the patriarch—“how dreadful is this -place—this is none other than the House of God.” At York, I -had said—‘this is the gate of heaven.’ Here an overpowering -solemnity brooded over every thought, and I less admired than -wondered. One thing was most pleasing: there is no screen, and -the eye ranges through nave and choir, unrestrained, to the altar -itself to which a bas-relief of the last supper, gives a fine effect. -Under the guidance of Canon Townsend, who had lately returned -from his most primitive visit to the Pope, we surveyed the -entire cathedral and its adjoining courts, all alike builded for -everlasting, if the solidity and grandeur of its masonry be any -index of its design. We visited “the Galilee,” and the tomb of -the venerable Bede, the “nine altars,” at the eastern end, and the -tomb of St. Cuthbert. Also, the chapter-house, hallowed by -the names of Aidan and Finan, those apostles of the North, who -came forth from Iona to illuminate our Saxon ancestors. I pity -the man who claims no kin with their ancient faith and piety! -They infused into the Church of England many elements of its -present character, and Bernard Gilpin was their legitimate son, -even more than Bede himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the library, we were shown, by the polite dignitary who -was our guide, many antiquarian and literary curiosities. The -stole of St. Cuthbert, taken from his coffin, and some needlework -of the sister of Alfred, were of the number, and divers manuscripts, -on vellum, of great beauty, and one the autograph of -Bede! Some modern copes, of the time of Charles First, were -shown us, as having been worn in Divine Service, in the cathedral, -according to the rubric, till Warburton laid them aside. -We also visited the University, which now fills the old castle of -Durham. This castle was built by William the Conqueror, and -was long the residence of the Bishops, as Lords of the Palatinate. -Its old Norman chapel is very interesting, and the modern -fittings are in good taste throughout, and turn it to good account. -In one of the prebendal houses, we found the Bishop of Exeter, -a prelate of great distinction, and celebrated for making warm -friends and bitter foes. Canon Townsend gave us our lunch, at -his own table, and warmly eulogized the American Church, -which he designs to visit. He also praised our country and its -achievements. His burning desire seems to be to unite all -Christians, once more, in one holy fellowship of faith and worship, -and it was in this spirit that he visited the Vatican, and exhorted -the Pope to repent. It was the last testimony to Pius -Ninth, before he dared to commit that damning sin against -Christian charity, on the 8th of December, 1854. In my opinion, -Canon Townsend need not be ashamed of having preached the -Gospel at Rome also.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I crossed the river Wear, and gained from its well-wooded -bank, the best view of the cathedral. It rises on the opposite -bank, high over the stream, like part of the rock on which it is -built. It presents the appearance of entire “unity with itself.” -Massive and ponderous dignity invests the whole pile, and with -the advantage of its deep descent to the river, I know not where -to look for anything that seems at once so fixed to the earth, and -yet so aspiring in its gigantic stretch towards heaven. The -cathedral at Fribourg, in Switzerland, not only lacks its grandeur, -but is too far from the edge of the steep, on which it stands, to -derive much character from it. Durham, on the contrary, grows -out of the cliff itself, and it is hard to say where the natural -architecture terminates, and art begins.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I heard the service, in the cathedral, and it was effectively performed. -From preference, I occupied the extremity of the nave, -and enjoyed its distant effect. The Episcopal throne, in this -cathedral, is a great curiosity. Had I not been told it was -a throne, I should have said it was a gallery, or orchestra. Its -style is altogether curious, and unique; but I should think his -Lordship would prefer any place in the cathedral, to such a -strange eminence. I left Durham, with great regret that I -could not linger for a long time, amid its venerable and sacred -attractions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A good portion of the succeeding day was given to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, -its smutty old-town, and its spruce and showy new-town. -Here is Norman England on one hand, and England of -the Reform-bill on the other. Standing upon one of its lofty -bridges, I surveyed the town, and the river, and felt more pleased -with what I saw than I had supposed it possible for me to be -with such a coal-hole.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Out of the hole I climbed, however, to the height on which -stands its old castle, built by Robert Curthose, son of William -the Conqueror. It is a dingy tower, at best; but massive, and -full of historic interest. Its chapel, only a few yards square, and -dimly lighted, is remarkable for some of the finest specimens extant, -of the Saxon arch. Its parts are distinctly marked, as -chancel, nave, sacristy, and the like; but it is more like the chapel -of an Inquisition, than of a royal castle. Several rooms in -the castle are filled with Roman relics, all found in the neighbourhood -of the town; and often, when I afterwards visited -Rome, and thought of this far distant place, did it give me new -ideas of her ancient power, to reflect upon her identity here and -there, and upon the skill in overcoming difficulties, which, in that -barbarian day, made her to be felt as really upon the Tyne, as -upon the Tiber. I saw very soon the same marks of Roman conquest, -far away in Scotland, near Elgin, and Inverness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And to Scotland I now made my way, without stopping. Flying -through Northumberland, I caught many glimpses of its -scenery and antiquities, about Warkworth and Alnwick. Far -out at sea, I spied the lofty bulk of Holy Island, or Lindisfarne, -the Iona of England. I instinctively bared my head to it. At -length I sighted Berwick-upon-Tweed, the <span class='it'>Amen Corner</span> of England, -where the Church ceases, and the Kirk begins. Anon, I -was over the Border.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>The Lakes and the Lakers.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I am now detailing my “Impressions of England,” I must -leave out my Scottish chapters, for Scotland is far too rich in material -to be smuggled into the world under any cover except its own. -After a most interesting visit to this romantic land, I again saw -England as I approached the Cumberland mountains, at Ecclefechan, -and in spite of my delight in Caledonia, I somehow felt -that it was home. I reached “Gretna Green” from a direction -the opposite of that which is the fashion for runaways, and hence -saw nothing of “the blacksmith;” but I was informed that he -duly posts himself at the station when the train approaches from -the other direction, and very frequently finds customers. It is -not now as in the days of posting; and if a brace of lovers can -make sure of a train in advance of pursuers, they are quite safe. -The next train may bring the frantic friends and parents; but -the wedding is already performed, according to the barbarous law -of North Britain. It has been remarked as something singular, -if not disgraceful, that several who have risen to be Lord-Chancellors -of the southern kingdom, were, in early life, married in -this way. After a moment’s pause at the Gretna station, we were -whirled across the Sark, with a glimpse of the Solway, and soon -I was in “merrie Carlisle.” I entered it, thanks be to Bishop -Percy, with special thoughts of “Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, -and William of Cloudeslee.” The poetry of the town is, in fact, -concentrated in that ballad of ballads. As a border town, it has -always been subject to those fearful scenes and tragedies, which -only war creates: and its history is a romance, from the days of -the Conquest to those of the Pretender, whose flag once waved -on its walls. It is charmingly situated, and well watered by its -three rivers; but its castle and its cathedral are its chief objects -of interest, and offer little that can be described with effect, after -a review of more striking specimens of their kind. Among the -tombs in the latter, is that of Archdeacon Paley, the <span class='it'>moralist</span>, -who “could not afford to keep a conscience.” I did not regard -it with any great emotion. The adjacent Deanery, at one time -inhabited by Bishop Percy, was more interesting to me, for whatever -he may have been as a bishop, I cannot doubt that his taste -and industry in literature have produced a vast result in the -poetry and letters of his native tongue. I have often amused -myself, not only with his “ballads” themselves, but with an -effort to trace their immediate and remote effects on the taste, -and even upon the genius of England. They are very striking, -and prove what may be the lasting results of a very humble sort -of literary enterprise, when it is founded on “truths that wake -to perish never.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was in the region of the Lakes, and felt upon me already the -powerful influences which its great poets have left it for an heritage -forever. The noble range of the Cumberlands seemed to -lift their monumental heads, in memory of Southey and Wordsworth. -I went to Kendal, and sighted the castle where Katherine -Parr was born, but was glad to take the earliest train to Bowness. -Welcome was the sight of Windermere, brightly reflecting the -evening sky, and encircled by an army of mountains, lifting their -bristling pikes as if to defend it, like a virgin sister in her loveliness. -Who can forget Dr. Arnold’s enthusiastic return to this -dear spot, from the Continent: his just comparison of its charms -with those of foreign scenes, and his close noting of the very -minutes that lingered as he hasted to his home at Fox How? -To me, there is all the heart of poetry in his honest effusion of -genuine English feeling. “I see the Old Man and the Langdale -Pikes, rising behind the nearer hills so beautifully! We open on -Windermere, and vain it is to talk of any earthly beauty ever -equalling this country, in my eyes. No Mola di Gaeta, no Valley -of the Velino, no Salerno or Vietri can rival, to me, this Vale of -Windermere, and of the Rotha. Here it lies in the perfection -of its beauty, the deep shadows on the unruffled water; and -mingling with every form, and sound, and fragrance, comes the -full thought of domestic affections, and of national and of Christian: -here is our own house and home: here are our own country’s -laws and language: and here is our English Church!” -Good! glorious! every word. I can feel it all, and the last -words more than he did. It is to the Church that England owes -all the rest, and yet that <span class='it'>palladium</span> (I hate the word) of England’s -holiest, and dearest, and best peculiarities, he would fain have -Germanized! I believe, in my heart, he was better than his -theories, and would have been the first to shrink from his own -dreams of reform, had he lived to see them coming into shape as -realities. I cannot but follow his speaking memoranda:—“Arrived -at Bowness, 8.20; left at 8.31; passing Ragrigg Gate, -8.37; over Troutbeck Bridge, 8.51; here is Ecclerigg, 8.58; and -here Lowood Inn, 9.04 and 30 seconds!” No fast man, at the -Derby, ever held his watch more breathlessly; he was speeding -home, and there he was in twenty minutes more, at his own -“mended gate,” wife and darlings all round papa, and so ends -his journal! Oh, what so enviable as a home, just here? My -own is far away—and I stop at Lowood Inn, grateful for such -inns as England only affords, and proposing to spend such a Sunday -as England only hallows. I am not forgetful of my own -dear land; I love her Hudson, as I can never love even an English -lake; but the janglings of a Sunday in America, the unutterable -wretchedness of perpetuated quarrels among Christians, and -all the sadness of religious disunion, in its last stage of social -disorganization, take away my sense of repose, when I survey -an American landscape, and the spires of our villages; and who -can measure the indifference, the atheism, and the godless contempt -for truth which all this breeds? Good Lord! when shall -this plague of locusts disappear from our sky? When shall all -Christians who love Christ in truth and soberness, agree to love -one another?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Lowood Inn I spent such a Sunday, as I had promised myself, -at St. Asaph. A morning and evening walk, by the lake, -was its morning and evening charm, and calm, sweet enjoyment -of the service was its substantial blessing. Here, Southey’s words -came forcibly to mind, as I recalled the common worship, in -which my beloved friends, at home, were uniting with me; the -Prayer-book its blessed telegraph!</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Oh, hold it holy! it will be a bond</p> -<p class='line0'> Of love and brotherhood, when all beside</p> -<p class='line0'> Hath been dissolved; and though wide ocean roll</p> -<p class='line0'> Between the children of <span class='it'>one</span> fatherland,</p> -<p class='line0'> This shall be their communion: they shall send,</p> -<p class='line0'> Linked in one sacred feeling, at one hour,</p> -<p class='line0'> In the same language, the same prayer to heaven,</p> -<p class='line0'> And each remembering each in piety,</p> -<p class='line0'>   Pray for the other’s welfare.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Early on Monday morning, in a fairy-like little steamer, I made -a circuit of the lake, enjoying fine weather, and delightful views. -The clouds took the shape of everything beautiful during the day, -now hanging over the “Pikes,” like legions of angels, and now -building themselves up into domes and cathedrals, upon the summits -of the everlasting hills. As for the lake itself, it is something -between Lake George and Cayuga Lake: its scenery in -some parts, even finer than the finest of the one, and its tamer -parts, almost always equal to the best of the other. Lake -George, however, in its exceeding wildness, has its own special -charm for me; and Windermere is too artificially beautiful, on -the whole, to rival it. Towards noon, I went, by coach, to -Grassmere, passing through Ambleside, and by the late residence -of Wordsworth, and enjoying the views of Rydalmere, and -Knab Scaur, and then of Grassmere itself, with its sweet church, -deep in the vale. The inn at Grassmere is well placed, on a -slight ascent from the valley, and provides a toothsome repast for -the tourist. I went on horse-back, over hill and dale, to “Dungeon -Ghyll,” a cataract well known to readers of Wordsworth, -but less interesting in itself, though curious as well as pretty, than -the scenery through which one passes to get there. The mountain -ranges, and peaks, as they come into sight, and seem to shift -their positions, are sufficient, I should think, to make the region -ever new in its peculiar attractions, especially when one takes -into account the endless variety imparted to such scenes by the -different seasons, hours of the day, states of the atmosphere, and -conditions of sky and clouds. Wise poets were these Lakers! -And how “Kit North” must have revelled in these palaces of -nature! As I slowly returned, I caught my last glimpse of Windermere, -and then saw the vale of Grassmere, in its evening -beauty. Arrived at the churchyard, I sought the grave of -Wordsworth. A plain grave, and his name merely. The river -rushing by lulls his repose. A carriage drove up, and seeing a -female mourner approach, attended by a servant, or waiting-maid, -I withdrew, and pretended to be otherwise engaged. The -lady scattered flowers on the grave of the poet, and stood there -awhile, musing. It was his widow; and when she had left -the sacred spot, I returned, and admired the fragrant and beautiful -tokens of her affection, which, as I learned, she every day -renews. I gathered some wild flowers, growing by the grave, -and resolved to bear them to Keswick, and leave them on the -grave of Southey. This pilgrimage I was determined to make, on -foot; and having arranged for my luggage to be sent to a convenient -point, I started accordingly, late in the afternoon, with a -walk of twelve miles before me; to do which, I gave myself three -hours for the walking, and one for resting and idling. I expected -to reach Keswick by early moonlight, for the moon was new, and -the days long. Mine host thought it too late for a start, after a -fatiguing day; but I had practised in Scotland, and knew my -strength, and the inspiration of the spot was such that I felt no -weariness. On the contrary, it is impossible to describe the flow -of spirits with which I began and ended this walk. Passing -Helm Crag, I decided that the “old woman” on the top, is far -more like a millenial group, in colossal sculpture, for it greatly -resembles a lion with a lamb in its embrace. At every step, -Wordsworth and Southey revive in memory; every pebble seems -to have attracted their love, and taken its place in their poetry. -After a long, but gradual ascent, we reach the cairn that covers -King Dunmail’s bones, and looking back at the charming view, -say farewell to Grassmere. In the distance, ahead, what looms -up? The guide-book says Skiddaw. There once lived Southey; -there now he sleeps. As I left this neighbourhood, I observed -to my surprise, another group on the mountain, in all respects -like the “old woman,” only turned the other way. Both are -formed by loose rocks on the height of the mountain; but I have -seen no mention of this one. And now my way lay along the -base of the “mighty Helvellyn.” The road was easy to the foot, -and innumerable are its charms. I came to the lovely Thirlmere, -or Leatheswater: the views of the surrounding crags, and of the -water itself, wearing a more beautiful aspect, for the hour and -the departing daylight. Blue-bells were everywhere growing by -the road, in handfulls. I stopped to examine a stone which -seems to record the death of a Quaker’s favourite horse. A carriage -came along, which proved to be full of cockney tourists. -One of them descended and read, as follows:—“Thirtieth of -ninth month, 1843;</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Fallen from ’is fellow’s side,</p> -<p class='line0'>   The steed beneath (h)is lying;</p> -<p class='line0'>  (H)in ’arness ’ere ’e died,</p> -<p class='line0'>   ’Is (h)only fault was dying.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The pathos with which these words were uttered was truly -Pickwickian, and the step from the sublime to the ridiculous was -so effectually taken by my feelings, that for a long way beyond, -Helvellyn re-echoed to my laughter. Passing Thirlmere, the -sweet vale of St. John opened a bewitching prospect, and I loved -it for its name. Leaving it on my right, I then turned toward -Keswick, and as the last light of day disappeared, there, before -me, lay Derwentwater, the new moon shedding a tremulous light -on its bosom. This, then, was Southey’s own Keswick, and -Skiddaw rose over head! I slept soundly and sweetly at the -“Royal Oak.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the morning, I took a barge, and was rowed round the -lake, which did not disappoint me. One of the men had been a -servant of Southey’s, and he told me many anecdotes of his -master. “Yonder, it seems to me, I can see him now,” said the -fellow, “walking with a book in his hand.” He described him -as good to the poor, and said, “he often gave five shillings, at a -time, to my mother.” In wet weather he still took the air, and -walked well on clogs. I was much charmed with the islets of -the lake, and the singular traditions which invest them all with -so much interest. The romantic stories of the unfortunate -family of Derwentwater, whose earls were attainted for their -share in the Pretender’s rebellion, are partly connected with one -of these islands, and the lake itself seems made for a scene of -romance. Windermere is not to be compared with it. I was -rowed to Lodore, and saw “how the water comes down.” -Sometimes ’tis a mere burlesque of the poem; but I saw it in full -force, and entirely justifying all the participles which the genius -of Southey has contrived to set going, like a cataract, out of the -fountain of his brain. After this, I swam in the lake, tempted -to do so by the double attraction of its pellucid waters, and its -Castalian associations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I visited Southey’s grave, in Crosthwaite churchyard. ’Twas -solemn to see the grass growing, and its tall spears shaking in the -breeze, over the head of that fine genius, and the heart of that -good and faithful man. In the church, where he so often prayed, -a superb statue of the poet lies, at full length, on an altar-tomb. -I placed in the marble hand the flowers I had brought from the -grave of Wordsworth, a tribute to their friendship, and a token -of my homage for both. Great and good men; they were the -“lucida sidera” of English literature, in a dark and evil time -and now that their sweet influence has triumphed over the -clouds and vapours which obscured their first rising, how calmly -they shine, in heaven, and brighten the scenes they have left -behind!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Greta Hall, the poet’s late residence, stands a little back from -the road, in the shadow of Skiddaw. I paid a visit to a daughter -of the bard, who loves to linger near her father’s grave; and it -was delightful to observe the simplicity with which she entered -into the enthusiasm of a pilgrim to that shrine of her affections. -The aged Mrs. Lovel, whose name is familiar to the readers of -Coleridge, and his contemporaries, also allowed me to be presented -to her. It was affecting to see a group of Southey’s lovely -little grand-children with her, in mourning for a mother. They -are richer in the heritage of his name and character than if they -were the heirs of the Derwentwaters, and restored to all their -honours and estates.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By coach to Penrith, by the vale of St. John, and Huttonmoor. -On the moor, I saw a cottage, with an inscription too -deep for me, of which my reader shall have the benefit. It was -this:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;'>“I. W.</p> -<p class='line0'>This building’s age, these letters show,</p> -<p class='line0'>Though many gaze, yet few will know.</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;'>MD.CCXIX.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>A Waltonian puzzle in its quaintness, not to speak of the initials! -Driving by Graystoke, in which is an old town-cross, we had a -sight of its church and castle. But two odd-looking farm-houses, -which we passed, presenting at a distance the appearance of forts, -surprised me more, by their American names, “Mount Putnam,” -and “Bunker-hill.” They were built and named soon after the -battle: and the whip laughed as he slyly surmised, that the -Duke of Norfolk, to whom they belong, “must have been afraid -the ’Mericans were coming over.” At Penrith, I visited the extraordinary -grave in the churchyard, called the <span class='it'>Giant’s</span>. Its history -is lost in the obscure of antiquity; but one <span class='it'>Owen</span> is said to -lie there, at full length, the head and footstones being fifteen feet -apart. The stones are tall needles, of curious form, and covered -with Runic carvings and unintelligible words. Not far from -Penrith, are some ancient caverns, marked by traces of gigantic -inhabitants, such as iron-gratings, and other relics worthy of the -habitation of Giant Despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next morning, we were favoured with a brilliant sky and cool -breeze, and I took the top of the coach for a drive across the -country, through Westmoreland, into Yorkshire. A sweet odour -of hay-making filled the air as we started; and soon we had fine -views of Brougham-hall, and castle, with a small adjoining park. -A more interesting object to me was a small column, by the -roadside, celebrated by Wordsworth, called the Countess of Pembroke’s -Pillar. It was erected in the evil days of Cromwell, not -to celebrate a battle, or a crime, but as a monument of love. On -that spot, in her better days, the Lady Anne Clifford had parted, -for the last time, with her beloved mother, the Countess Dowager -of Pembroke, and she therefore caused this stone to be set as a -memorial, and inscribed accordingly. But she did yet more, for -hard by is a stone table, on which the anniversary of that parting -is annually celebrated by a dole of bread to the poor of the -parish of Brougham, to pay for which she left the annual sum of -four pounds to the church forever. This is giving a <span class='it'>stone</span> to -those who ask <span class='it'>bread</span>, in an orthodox way. The inscription ends -with <span class='it'>Laus Deo</span>; and my heart responded in the manner which -Wordsworth suggests. “Many a stranger,” he says, “though -no clerk, has responded Amen, as he passed by.” Our drive continued -a pleasant one till we came to Appleby, an interesting old -town, through which runs the river Eden. In its church are -monuments of the Lady Anne Clifford and her mother. At -Brough, we came to an old castle, erected before the Conquest. -Its church has a pulpit, hewn of a single stone; and they tell a -good story of its bells. A worthy drover of the adjoining moors, -once brought a fine lot of cattle to market, promising to make -them bellow all together, and to be heard from Brough to -Appleby. Accordingly with the money they sold for, he gave -the parish a peal of bells, which constantly fulfils his vow. He -deserves to be imitated by richer men. At Brough the coach -left me, and I took a post-chaise over the dreary region of Stainmuir; -dreary, just then, but not so in the sporting-season, when -the moor is alive with hunters and fowlers. At Bowes, again, -emerging from the moorlands, we came to the remains of a castle, -and to the less interesting relics of a school, which had disappeared -under the influence of a general conviction, that it was -the original “Dotheboys Hall.” A dull place is Bowes; but -striking over a rugged country, northward, I came soon into the -charming valley of the Tees, and so arrived at the secluded church -and parsonage of Romaldkirk, on a visit to a clergyman, who bearing -my maternal name, and deriving from the same lineage, in -times long past, yet claimed me as a relative, and welcomed me -as a brother. I found a missionary from India, addressing a few of -his parishioners, in an adjoining school-house, and there I first -saw my hospitable friend, and joined with him in the solemnities -of a missionary meeting, among a few of the neighbouring peasantry. -With this estimable clergyman, and his family, I tarried till -the third day, enjoying greatly their attentive hospitalities, and -trying to catch trout in the Tees. The very sound of this rushing -river recalled the story of Rokeby, and amid its overhanging -foliage, I almost fancied I could see skulking the pirate-figure of -Bertram Risingham.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was not allowed to leave this happy roof unattended. The -eldest son of the family, a young Cantab, took me more than -twenty miles, to Richmond, through a most romantic country, -allowing me to visit the ruins, near Rokeby, and to stop at many -interesting spots. We journeyed through Barnard Castle, and by -Egglestone Abbey, and met with several adventures in our -“search of the picturesque,” but at last emerged into the surprising -scenery of Richmond, which I found beautiful beyond all -that its name implies, and not unworthy of sharing it with its -southern namesake, on the Thames. It is the older of the two, -and is remarkable for something more than beauty. It has -a touch of grandeur about it, and the ruins of its old historic -castle, on the banks of the Swale, full of traditions of feudal -sovereignty, and still massive and venerable in appearance, give -an imposing air of majesty to the town. The aspect of the valley -of the Swale is almost American, in its wildness, in many -parts, and I keenly relished even my railway journey through -a region so inviting to delay. I made my way to Leeds, where, -amid smoke, and much that is disagreeable, stands the interesting -Church of St. Mary’s, lately renewed and beautified by its faithful -vicar, Dr. Hook. I had barely time to visit this sacred place, -and contenting myself with having sighted Kirkstall Abbey, in -the vale of Aire, I continued my journey to my first English -home, in Warwickshire. The glimpses of Derbyshire scenery -which I enjoyed, in my rapid journey, were full of beauty: and -the mishap of losing a trunk, gave me the opportunity of putting -to the test the fidelity of the English railway system. As soon -as I discovered that some blunder had been committed, I informed -the guard, and at the first station, telegraphic messages were -despatched, and in a short time my trunk followed me to the parsonage, -where I passed the Sunday with my friend.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Cowper—Greenwich.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>More than once have I betrayed, in the course of my narrative, -a strong affection for the name and memory of Cowper. -To his poetry and letters, I was introduced in early childhood, -by the admiring terms in which a beloved parent often quoted -and criticised them; and no subsequent familiarity with them has, -in the least, impaired my relish for their peculiar charms. I regard -him as the regenerator of English poetry, and as the morning-star -of all that truly illustrates the nineteenth century. A -gentle but powerful satirist of the evils of his own times, he -was a noble agent in the hand of God, for removing them, and -making way for a great restoration. Without dreaming of his -mission, he was a prime mover in the great action which has -thrown off the lethargy of Hanoverianism, and awakened the -Church of England to world-wide enterprises of good; and -though the injudicious counsels of good John Newton gave a turn -to his piety, which may well be deplored in its consequences upon -himself, it is ground for rejoicing that the influences of the Church -upon his own good taste, were strong enough to rescue his contributions -to literature from the degrading effects of religious -enthusiasm. If any one will take the trouble to compare “the -Task” with such a production as Pollok’s “Course of time,” he -will be struck with the force of my remark, for there the same -enthusiasm <a id='exhib'></a>exhibits itself as developed by sectarianism. I was -surprised to find how many places in England were fraught with -recollections of this retired and sedentary poet. A distant view -of St. Alban’s, the banks of the Ouse, the churchyard of St. -Margaret’s, and the school-room, at Westminster, the gardens of -the Temple, and the little village of St. Neot’s all recalled him to -mind, in his various moods, of suffering and dejection. Even the -ruins of Netley Abbey revived his memory, for there he seems to -have been filled with novel emotions, as an unwonted tourist, -with whom romantic scenes were far from familiar. The opposite -pole of poetic association became electric in Cheapside, where -so many John Gilpins still keep shop, if they do not “ride -abroad.” But I frequently passed, on the railway, a village in -Hertfordshire, which is invested with memories of a more elevated -and affecting character. It was not only the birth-place of -the poet, (as well as of Bishop Ken,) but its church-tower is that -from which he heard the bell tolled on the burial-day of his -mother. Its parsonage was the scene of all those maternal tendernesses, -which he has so touchingly celebrated; and who that -has shared the love of a Christian mother, can fail to reverence -the bard, who has so inimitably enshrined, in poetry, the best -and holiest instincts of the human heart, as exhibited in the mutual -loves of the mother and her son? I could not leave -England without first paying a pilgrimage to those scenes of his -maturer life, which have become classic from their frequent mention -in his poems.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I was taking my ticket for a second-class passage to the -nearest point on the railway to Olney, I happened to meet a -gentleman who had just bought his, and with whom I had the -pleasure of some acquaintance. Knowing him to be connected, -by marriage and position, with some of the most aristocratic -families in the kingdom, I very naturally said to him—“I’m -going the same way with you, but shall lose the pleasure of your -company, for I’ve only a second-class ticket.” I was amused with -his answer:—“Yes, for I’ve only a <span class='it'>third</span>-class ticket.” He -briefly explained that he was forced to economize, and that, -although he did not like it, the inconvenience of a seat among a -low-class of people, for a short time, was not so intolerable as a -collapsed purse, “especially” he added, “as I am thus enabled -to travel in the first-class carriages when I travel with my wife.” -Such is the independence as to action, and the freedom as to confession -of economy, which characterize a well-bred man, whose -position in society is settled; and I could not but think how -snobbish, in the contrast, is the conduct of many of my own -countrymen, who, if they ever use prudence, in their expenses, -are afraid to have it known. An aristocracy of money is not -only contemptible in itself, but it curses a land with a universal -shame of seeming prudent. It makes the dollared upstart fancy -himself a gentleman, while the true gentleman is degraded in his -own eyes, as well as in the estimation of the vulgar, by the fact, -that his house is small, his furniture plain, and his table frugal. -Hence so much <span class='it'>upholstery</span> in America; so much hotel-life; and -such a contempt for quiet respectability.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This anecdote is not out of place in a chapter devoted to -Cowper. The poet was a man of gentle blood, and, in every -sense of the word, a gentleman. Many an English nobleman is -vastly inferior to him in point of extraction. He was descended -from the blood-royal of Henry Third, and in divers ways was -allied to the old aristocracy of England. He used to be visited -at Olney, by persons of quality, in their chariots; and titled -ladies were glad to accept his hospitalities. But his home at Olney, -where he lived for years, was one of the humblest in the -place, and even his darling residence, at Weston, was such a dwelling -as most country-parsons would consider barely comfortable. -Now, I do not mean to say that John Bull prefers such an -establishment for a gentlemen’s habitation; but I do mean that -nobody in England would be so insane as to think less of a -gentleman, for living thus humbly, especially if he lived so from -principle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I came to Newport-Pagnel, a respectable elderly person -drove by, in an open carriage, whom the whip pointed out to me -as Mr. Bull; the son of Cowper’s old friend, whom he delighted -to call his dear <span class='it'>Taurus</span>. Having a few minutes to spare in the -place, and a proper introduction, I called at his house, and was glad -to be shown a portrait of the venerable personage himself—the -“smoke-inhaling Bull” of the Letters. A lady of the family -politely gave me all needed directions, but assured me I should -be greatly disappointed in Olney, where “there was nothing to -see but old houses, and a general aspect of decay.” I said—‘Yes, -but the house is there—and the summer-house—and the spire—and -the bridge?’ I was answered that these were yet remaining, -though somewhat the worse for wear and weather; and so, having -succeeded in hiring a horse, off I went, alone. As I approached -the neighbourhood of Olney, the first truly <span class='it'>Cowperish</span> -sight that struck me—and I had never seen such a sight before -in my life—was a living illustration of his lines:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Yon cottager that weaves at her own door,</p> -<p class='line0'> Pillow and bobbins, all her little store!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>She little knew how much pleasure the sight of her gave to a -passing stranger, with whom her art had been rendered poetically -beautiful, by the charms of Cowper’s verse. This is, in -fact, the secret of his spell as a poet, the power of investing even -homely things, in real life, with a certain fascinating attractiveness. -He avoids the romantic and the poetical, in choosing his -themes; but he elevates what is common to a dignity and beauty -unknown before. He is the most English of English bards, and I -love him for teaching me to see a something even in the English -poor, which makes them, to me, vastly more interesting than the -romantic peasantry of Italy. True, the latter tread the vintage, -and the other only stack the corn; but the English cottage has -the Bible in it, and its children learn the Ten Commandments, -and also learn that “cleanliness is next to godliness;” while in -Italy, among fleas and other vermin, the idle parents sit lazily in -the sun, and the children run after the traveller’s coach-wheel, -lying while they beg, and showing by their religious vocabulary, -that Bacchus and Maria are confounded in their imagination as -saints of the same calendar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length I saw the spire of Olney, and soon I crossed the -bridge, over whose “wearisome, but needful length,” used to -come the news from London, to solace Cowper’s winter evenings. -I was not long in finding the poet’s most unpoetical home, now -occupied by a petty shop-keeper, who has turned his parlour into -a stall. Here he lived, however, and here he sang: here, motherly -Mrs. Unwin made tea for him, and Lady Austen gave him -“the sofa” for his “Task.” Under these stairs once lodged Puss, -Tiney, and Bess; those happy hares which, alone of their kind, -have had a <span class='it'>local habitation</span>, and will always have <span class='it'>a name</span>. In the -garden, I saw where the cucumber-vine used to grow, and where -Puss used to ruminate beneath its leaves, like Jonah under his -gourd. An apple-tree was pointed out to me as “set by Mr. -Cowper’s own hands.” The garden has been pieced off, and to -see the “summer-house,” I was forced to enter, by a neighbour’s -leave, another enclosure. Here is the little nestling-place of -Cowper’s poesy—the retreat where his Egeria came to him. In -the fence, is still the wicket he made, to let him into the parsonage-grounds, -when Newton was his confessor. ‘Here, then,’ I -said, ‘one may fancy the lily and the rose, growing in rivalry; -and another rose <span class='it'>just washed in a shower</span>; and the <span class='it'>sound of the -church-going bell</span>, and a thousand other minute matters in themselves, -all taking their place in the poetic magazine of Cowper, -and so coming into verse, through his brain, as the mulberry leaf -becomes silk, by another process of spinning.’ It was a small -field for such a harvest, and yet “the Task” grew here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, another mile brought me to the more agreeable -Weston-Underwood, the resort of all his walking days at -Olney, and the dear retreat of his later life; the dearer, because -bestowed by the lovely Lady Hesketh. This is, indeed, a residence -worthy of a poet, and though all who once rendered it so -charming to Cowper have passed away, I was agreeably surprised -to find no important feature changed. A painful identity belongs -to it: you recognize, at every step, the fidelity of the poet’s -descriptive powers, and it seems impossible that he who has made -the scene part of himself, has been for half a century in his -grave, while all this survives. You enter the desolate park of -the Throckmortons, and there is “the alcove,” with its commanding -view, so dear to the poet’s eye, and Olney spire in the distance. -You pass into “the Wilderness,” now a wilderness -indeed, for it is neglected and overgrown. Here are a couple of -urns, now green with moss, and lovingly clasped by ivy, but each -marked with familiar names, and graced by Cowper’s playful -verse. The one adorns the grave of “Neptune,” Sir John Throckmorton’s -pointer; the other is the monument of “Fop,” his -lady’s favourite spaniel. I hailed this memorial of “Lady -Frog’s” pet; but was far more moved to descry, before long, at -the end of a flowery alley, the antique bust of Homer, which -Cowper so greatly valued, and to which he gave a Greek inscription, -which Hayley was proud to do into English:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“The sculptor? Nameless though once dear to fame;</p> -<p class='line0'> But this man bears an everlasting name.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Here, then, that “stricken deer that left the herd,” was led to -a sweet covert at last, and went in and out, and found pasture, -under the guidance of one “who had himself been hurt by the -archers.” With what enchantment these haunts of hallowed -genius inspired me! And yet never felt I so melancholy before. -The utter loneliness of the scene; the fact that they who had -bestowed its charm, were all, long ago, dead; and then that -painful reality—everything else there, as it should be; the Task, -no poem, but a verity, and before my eyes; but Cowper, Hayley, -Austen, Hesketh, all gone forever; these thoughts were oppressive. -I sat down, and almost wept, as I repeated the names of -those who were so “lovely and pleasant in their lives,” and who -now are undivided in death! It was an hour of deeper feeling -than I had realized before, at any shrine of departed genius, in -England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went to the house, and rejoiced in the comfort it must have -afforded Cowper, in his latter days. It is neat and comfortable, -and the village is a pretty one, trim and thrifty in its look, and -sufficiently poetical. It has “an air of snug concealment,” which -must have been most congenial to its gifted inhabitant, and it -was not unsuited to his fondness for receiving his friends as -guests. I went into the poet’s chamber, and also into that which -Lady Hesketh used to occupy. In the former, there is a sad -autograph of the poet, in lead-pencil, behind a window-shutter. -The window had been walled up, and only lately re-opened, -when the pencilling was found. It is one of the poet’s last -performances—an adieu to Weston, written there, as he left it -forever:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Farewell dear scenes forever closed to me,</p> -<p class='line0'> O for what sorrows must I now exchange ye!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>No wonder he lamented a departure from such a retreat, into -nearer proximity to the bad world. Walking in the park, -beneath its avenue of ancient limes, I envied the nibbling flocks -that were straying about, and the cattle that were reclining in -their shade. So peaceful! If life were given us for ignoble -devotion to self, I know of nothing within reach of a clergyman’s -humble fortune to which I should more ardently aspire, -than such an abode as Weston, where a golden mean between -what is common and what is poetical in scenery, and situation, -still offers every inducement to a man of taste to settle down, -and live contentedly; or, like Walton, “to serve God, and go a -fishing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On returning to London, I was rejoiced to meet an old and intimate -friend, from America, whose genius has given him distinction, -at home and abroad—Mr. Huntington, the artist. With -him I, once more, visited the Crystal Palace, and enjoyed the -benefit of his criticisms in surveying the works of art, there displayed. -We were interested to observe a constant group of admiring -spectators hanging around the Greek Slave, of our countryman, -Mr. Powers. Other nude figures, although many of them -were far better calculated to appeal to coarse curiosity, were -comparatively neglected, so that we could not but consider the -amount of interest which this work secured, a proof of something -superior, in its character. I own that, for my own part, I -do not like it. The subject is a sensual one, and does not appeal -to any lofty sentiment. Beauty in chains, and exposed in the -shambles, is a loathesome idea, at best.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went with Mr. Huntington to the rooms of the British Institution, -in Pall-Mall, where is a fine collection of paintings, by -British and foreign masters. It was a great advantage to me to -be prepared by the hints of so eminent an artist, for my continental -tour, and often, in the galleries of Italy, I had occasion to -thank my friend for enabling me to appreciate many things which -would, otherwise, have escaped me. At the exhibition of water-coloured -paintings, I was astonished, by the rich collection, and -the exceeding beauty of many of the pictures. The fruit, and -flower pieces, of Hunt, were almost miracles. He paints a bird’s -nest, with the eggs, and every straw, so perfect, that the bird -would infallibly attempt to sit in it, and he contrives to bestow it -in a hedge of hawthorn, so green and white, and so entirely natural, -that you would not think of taking the nest, without making -up your mind to be sorely scratched. It would make May-morning -of a winter-day, to have a few such paintings to look at, -and no one who loves nature could ever be tired of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The weather was as hot, at this time, in London, as it is ordinarily, -at the same season, in Baltimore or New-York. It was -the middle of August, and the moon being near the full, the -nights were very beautiful; and I observed it the more, because -neither sun nor moon have much credit for making London attractive. -Late at night, I could see the Wellington statue almost -as distinctly from the Marble arch, as at Hyde-park corner, and -the scenery of the Park, by moonlight, was enchanting. When -shall we have such parks in all our large towns?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next day, with Huntington, and Gray, both of our National -Academy, I went out to Greenwich Hospital, to survey the -place, and to enjoy a parting white-bait dinner. We went down -in a steamer, enjoying the excursion the more for our comparisons -of all we saw with the Bay of New-York, and the Hudson. It -was pleasant, now and then, to discern an American vessel, and -to know her at once, by her graceful form, amid a forest of -masts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Greenwich is the great <span class='it'>outside</span> park of London, the resort of -thousands of her pleasure-seekers, of the humble class. The -Royal Observatory stands on a commanding eminence, and the -slope of its hill towards the river, is the favourite sporting place -of mammas and children. As a prime meridian, however, I always -regret that it is not deposed, by the religion of England, -which ought to take the lead in making Jerusalem the starting -point for all Christian reckonings. The wings of the morning -should rise every day, from the Holy Sepulchre, and there evening -should come down to brood, with everything to make it the first, -and the last place, in the minds and hearts of a ransomed world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Greenwich Hospital is, indeed, a palace of the poor. On the -terrace, between its wings, one cannot but be impressed with a -sense of the greatness of a nation which thus lodges the humblest -of its worn-out defenders. The old pensioners, hobbling about, -in their blue uniforms, and cocked-hats, move your profound respect. -Their wounds, and battered visages, seem to speak of -storm and shipwreck, and of shell and broadsides, in every climate -under heaven. They can tell wonderful things of Nelson -and of Collingwood; and all seem to address you, like Burns’ -hero, with the tale,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“How they served out their trade</p> -<p class='line0'> When the Moro low was laid,</p> -<p class='line0'>         At the sound of the drum.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>In “the Painted Hall,” which is full of pictures of naval battles, -one sees how terribly their pensions have been earned. There, -too, is shown the coat worn by Nelson, when he fell, and it is -stained with his blood. It was a comfort to turn from this temple -of the Maritime Mars, to that of the Prince of Peace. The -old sailors have a superb chapel, elaborately adorned, and furnished -with an altar-piece, by West, “the shipwreck of St. Paul.” -From a little book which I picked up in Paris, written by a -Frenchman, and a Romanist, I gather that the service, in such -places, in England, is very impressive, and that the contrast, in -France, is not in favour of the Romish religion. He describes -the chaunting, and apparent devotion of the soldiers, as very -striking; and he seems to have been especially struck with their -responses to the Ten Commandments. He adds—“all that would -make us laugh in France:” and he goes on to say—“if it be -answered that our soldiers are at liberty to go to mass, I reply, -that’s true; but for all that, a young conscript, religiously educated -at home, would be ridiculed so unsparingly for continuing in -his pious habits, that he could not long resist the bad examples -of his comrades.” At Greenwich, the Bible and Prayer-book -are the constant companions of many an old salt; and bad as all -armies and navies must be, I could not but think that there is a -great advantage, in the <span class='it'>morale</span>, of Chelsea and Greenwich, as -compared with the Invalides.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We adjourned to our <span class='it'>White-bait</span>—a fish, according to the same -French authority, most delicate and delicious, and to be eaten -only at Greenwich, because it is necessary to transfer them, instantly, -from the water to the frying-pan, and thence to the plate, -and because they are fished only in the Thames. I fully agree -with Monsieur, as to the attractions of the <span class='it'>plat</span>, especially when -enjoyed in good company. The dinner ended, my friends accompanied -me to the Southwark station, at London, where I had all -things in readiness for a start: and bidding them a warm farewell, -I reached Dover in a few hours, and soon embarked for -Ostend. The sea was calm, and heaving in long, broad, glittering -swells; and as the chalky cliffs of Dover, gleaming in the -cloudless moonlight, gradually sank in the distance, I felt that no -native Briton ever waved a more affectionate salute to the bright -isle, than that with which I said <span class='it'>good-night</span> to Albion.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='ChapXXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'><span class='it'>Return—Conclusion.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was four months later than the incidents of my last chapter, -when after a tour on the Continent, I found myself safely landed -at Dover, in the gray dawn of a winter’s morning. I had left -Paris, in all the frightful confusion consequent upon the <span class='it'>coup -d’état</span> of Louis Napoleon. In touching, once more, the free and -happy soil of England, if I could not say—“This is my own, -my native land,” I could yet feel that it was the sacred land of -my religion, of my parentage, and of my mother tongue. I was, -once more, at home, and ceased to feel myself a foreigner, as I -had done in France and Italy. How good and honest, sounded -again in my ears, the language of Englishmen! As “bearer of -despatches” from Paris, to our ambassador at London, I was -landed with the advantage of precedence, and very rapidly passed -through the custom-house. The state of things in France, -and the feverish anxiety, in England, to learn the changes of -every hour, invested my trifling diplomatic dignity with a -momentary importance, strikingly diverse from its insignificance -at other times: and I was amused to see how much curiosity was -felt by the officials as to the mighty communications which might -be going up to London in my portmanteau. Even an old salt, -as I stepped ashore, could not forbear accosting me with—“Any -news this morning, yer honour?” ‘Bad news,’ said I, ‘the Frenchmen -are going to have a bloody day of it; be thankful you are -an Englishman.’ “So I am, your honour,” was his hearty, and -most honest reply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had been travelling in Southern Europe, where, to borrow a -thought of Dr. Arnold’s, no one can be sure that anything is -real, which he seems to see: where <span class='it'>Savans</span> are not scholars—where -captains are not soldiers—nor judges lawyers—where -noblemen are not men of honour—where priests are not pure—nor -wives and matrons chaste. I was, again, in the land of facts, -a land deeply involved, indeed, in the sins and miseries of a fallen -world; but still a land, where, for centuries, everything has -been steadily advancing towards a high realization of human -capabilities, alike in the physical, and mental, and moral of man’s -nature. I was once more in a land where it is base to lie; where -domestic purity and piety find their noblest illustrations, whether -in palaces or cottages; and where not even luxury and pride have -been able to vitiate the general conviction of all classes, that -righteousness alone exalteth a nation, and that sin is a reproach -to any people.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On arriving in London, my very first employment was to visit -the tomb of the holy Bishop Andrewes, at St. Mary’s, Southwark. -The prelate is represented, at full length, stretched upon his -sepulchre, and right dear it was, after long tarrying amid the -monuments of popes and cardinals, to behold, once more, that of -an honest and true man, and a saint of God, who, in his day -and generation, was “a burning and a shining light.” The tomb -of the exemplary and amiable poet Gower, is also in this Church, -and has often been described.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Attending Evening Service at Westminster Abbey, on the following -Sunday, I was so much struck with the effect produced -by the light of candles, in the choir, that it seemed to me, I had -never before fully felt the wonderful impressiveness of that -Church, nor even of the church service. The surpliced singers, -ranged in their stalls—the many faces of the worshippers—and -the lofty arches of the sombre architecture received a new aspect, -from the mingled light and shade, and the tones of worship were -imbued, by association, with something strange and solemn. -Deep under the vaultings lay the shadows, and here and there -shone out a marble figure, or glimmered a clustered column. -When the organ sent its tremulous tide far down the nave, it -seemed to come back in echoes, like the waves of the sea—the -more effective, because of the distance through which it had -stretched and rolled the surge of sound; and when the responsive -<span class='it'>Amens</span> rose, one after the other, from the voices of the -singers, plaintively interrupting the petitions, and marking the -impressive stillness of the intervals between, which were filled -only with the low monotone of prayer, then I felt how amiable -are the temples of the Lord of Hosts, and how fair a resemblance -of that temple not made with hands, where they rest not, day -nor night, from their hymns, and responsive praises. By the -sides of the altar fared two immense wax lights, giving a fine -effect to the sanctuary. After the Second Lesson, the preacher, -Canon C——, ascended the pulpit, in his surplice, and preached -the sermon; after which, the Evening Prayer continued, as after -a baptism, the choir taking up the <span class='it'>Nunc dimittis</span>, followed by the -creed, the collects, the anthem, and the prayers, while the organ -thundered through the lengths and heights of the abbey. I joined -the throng which passed down the nave, and looking back -again and again, I received such powerful impressions of the sublimity -of the place, as had been wholly wanting to the effect by -daylight, as experienced on former occasions. One parting look -through the western door, through the dimly illuminated perspective, -and then I turned slowly and thoughtfully away. On -the preceding Sunday, I had left the cathedral service, at Rouen, -in circumstances precisely similar, and my mind naturally fell -into a comparative train of thought. There was a great similarity -in the effects produced on the senses by the two services. -A stranger to the Latin and English languages, would have failed -to note any marked difference between them. He would have -recognized the Catholic unities of the two rites, and would have -failed to observe their diversities, papal and reformed. The -French sermon had been vastly better than the English one: the -former was preached by an orator, the latter by a spiritless and -formal favourite of Lord John Russell. Yet, between the two -solemnities, in their entire effect, the disparity was greatly in -favour of the English service, which was audibly and reverently -performed, while the other was mumbled, and not understood by -the congregation. I felt that the Church of England was strong, -if compared with that of France, in her heritage of Catholic -and Apostolic truth, as distinguished from the systematic falsehoods, -which have made the religion of the other, a mere fable, -in the general estimation of the French people.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At a later hour, the same evening, it was my lot to preach in -St. Bartholomew’s, Moor-lane, in the pulpit once filled by the -worthy Archbishop Sharpe. The incumbent of this Church had -lately discovered at Sion College a collection of papers and -books once belonging to the saintly Bishop Wilson; and he -placed in my hands, for that evening, the original <span class='it'>Sacra Privata</span> -of that holy and venerable prelate. I could not but think how -much we may owe it to his prayers, that the Church of England -is now what she is, as compared with what she was in his day; -and, in preaching, I took great delight in paying a parting -tribute to that Church, as compared with the churches of the -continent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I am convinced that the debt which England and the world -owe to the Anglican Reformers of the sixteenth century, has -never been properly appreciated. Like the air which we breathe, -but do not perceive, the spirit with which they have invested -the religion of England, is that of life and health. They banished -nothing but the fogs and noxious exhalations of the middle -ages; and, as the result, we find England hale and hearty, and -bearing more fruit in her age, while the churches which allowed -the Tridentine vapours to become their atmosphere, are perishing -in the agues and fevers of a long and ghastly decline. Look at -Spain and Italy!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And I cannot forbear, in conclusion, to remark, that when -American travellers go to England, and copy the false statistics -of some infidel almanac, to justify their railings against the -National Church, they are about as wise as John Bull is, when -he takes the statistics of our (immigrant) pauperism and crime, as -a test of the true state of American society. It is true that -there are great abuses connected with the establishment; and it -is also true that they are deplored by no class of Englishmen, -half so much as they are by the true churchman. If the Church -could be left to herself, they would be immediately reformed; but -the very creatures who rail at her, because of them, are they -who refuse to give her the freedom which she claims, and who do -the most to enslave her to the State power. I am no friend to -that power in the Church of <span class='sc'>God</span>; but they who prate against -the church, because of her misfortunes, deserve the rebuke of all -thinking men, whose knowledge of history, and of the existing -state of the world, enables them to compare what has been done -for England, by that church, even in her fetters, with what all -other religions put together have done for the residue of the world. -When we reflect upon the three great achievements of that Church -for English liberty—the Reformation, the Restoration of the -Constitution and Monarchy, and the repudiation of the Popish -Stuarts, we may well afford to laugh at such sneers as a Macaulay -endeavours to raise against her, on the ground of blemishes -with which his own reckless and treacherous political allies have -deformed and afflicted her. And when we attempt to estimate -the blessings she has diffused through the whole Anglo-Saxon people, -and by them through the world, who can refrain from blessing -the dear Church which has placed the English Bible in every cottage, -and which, for three centuries, has read the <span class='it'>Ten Commandments</span>, -every Lord’s day, in the ears of millions of the people? It -is only when we think of what that Church has done, in spite of -the golden chains which fetter her, and in spite of the political -miscreants who have always hung like hounds upon her heels -and hands, that we can rightly estimate her strong vitality, and -her vast beneficence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And let it be remembered, too, that all that is good among English -dissenters, is sucked from the Church, as the parasite derives its -nourishment from the oak. The dissenters are mainly the small-tradesmen -of England, a people intelligent enough to perceive the -faults of their hereditary religion, but not generally enlightened -enough to know its value and its services to themselves. They -are like the Dutch boors, who thought the sun did no good -among the Flemings, because they saw it so seldom, and who -concluded that daylight came from the clouds, which were -always visible. Whoever will take the pains to contrast the dissenters -of England with those of Germany, will learn how much -even they derive from the Church, against which they so ignorantly -rail.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I desire to speak with great respect of many of the dissenters -of England, who, like their estimable Doddridge, are such by the -force of circumstances only, while they love and revere the Church -of the nation; but I have known even American Presbyterians to -experience the greatest revulsion of feeling against the mass of -English dissenters, after actual contact with their coarse and -semi-political religionism. I was not less surprised than gratified, -moreover, to observe very lately, in a widely circulated American -newspaper, edited by eminent Presbyterians, a full vindication of -the Church of England from the odious and false views current -among us in America, with respect to the system of tithes. The -writer was himself an English or Irish dissenter, and he frankly -asserted the fact, that in paying his tithes, he suffered no wrong, -and contributed nothing to the establishment, which did not belong -to her. “In short,” said he, “the Church owns one-tenth -of my rent, and I am quite as willing to pay it to her, as to pay -the nine-tenths to my other landlord.” The nine-tenths might -go to a popish priest; but does he who pays it contribute to uphold -Popery? No more than one who hires his house of a play-actor, -supports the stage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But although the decline of dissent, in England, is universally -admitted, it is generally imagined that Popery is growing. So it -is if the immigration from Ireland, of thousands of <span class='it'>navvies</span>, who -have built Romish chapels and convents, out of their earnings -on the railways, be the basis of the remark. But nothing was -ever more over-rated than the late Apostacy, which is the fruit -of a mere personal influence, over a few young men at Oxford, -gained by one brilliant sophist, and perniciously directed by him -towards ultramontane Romanism. It has spent itself already in -a spasmodic revolt against common sense, which is breeding a reaction -towards rationalism: but the Church of England is as -much in danger from Irvingism as from Newmanism; and Wesleyanism -was vastly more energetic against her than either. The -chagrin and disappointment of Mr. Newman himself is most apparent. -After numbering the “educated men” whom he had involved -in his own downfall as <span class='it'>a hundred</span>, he confesses that their -defection from the Church has scarcely been felt by her. “The -huge creature from which they went forth,” he says, “showed no -consciousness of its loss, but <span class='it'>shook itself, and went about its work as -of old time</span>.” Yes, but with a newer and mightier energy than ever -before, and that in both hemispheres. The unhappy man seems -to have imagined that by getting into a balloon, he could kick the -earth from its orbit: but the planet still revolves around the sun, -while he dangles in the air, lost in the brilliant clouds of his own -imaginations, and fancying his petty elevation as sublime as her -pathway through the skies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the same manner, the Dublin reviewers are continually deploring -their powerless expenditure of vast resources against the -religion of England, which stands in its fortress of Scriptural -truth, more impregnable than Gibraltar. Let the reader reflect, -for a minute, on the essential characteristic of the Anglican Reformation, -as it began under Wycliff, in a <span class='it'>translation of the Scriptures</span>, -and then weigh the importance of the following citation -from a Romish periodical.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who will not say,” says the <span class='it'>Dublin Review</span>, “that the uncommon -beauty and marvellous English of the Bible is not one -of the great strongholds of heresy in this country. It lives on -the ear like a music that can never be forgotten, like the sound -of the church-bell, <span class='it'>which the convert hardly knows how he can forego</span>. -Its felicities often seem to be almost things rather than mere -words. It is part of the national mind, and the anchor of -national seriousness. The memory of the dead passes into it. -The potent traditions of childhood are stereotyped in its verses. -The power of all the gifts and trials of a man is hidden beneath -its words. It is the representative of his best moments, and all -that there has been about him of soft, and gentle, and pure, and -penitent, and good, speaks to him forever out of the English -Bible. It is his sacred thing, which doubt has never dimmed, -and controversy never soiled. In the length and breadth of the -land, there is not a Protestant with one spark of righteousness -about him, whose spiritual biography is not in his Saxon Bible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Action and reaction are always equal; and it is my own -opinion that the hand of <span class='sc'>God</span> is visible in the permission of the -late scandals, and their sequel will demonstrate that He has -been infusing into modern Romanism a spirit which will blow it -to atoms. Among the beardless boys, who have swelled the -numerical strength of the apostacy, there are some prodigals -who will yet come to themselves, and remember their father’s -house with penitent tears: and as to their leaders, the ex-Jesuit -Steinmetz in his narrative of a residence at Stoneyhurst, introduces -the following striking view of the case, which sustains -my own impressions. “Though the men of Rome,” he says, -“exult in this reaction (as they call it) which is making Oscott -a <span class='it'>refugium peccatorum</span>, perhaps from among the very men whose -captive chains clank in their triumphal thanksgiving, there will -be shot the <span class='it'>lethalis arundo</span>, the deadly arrow that will pierce -and cling to the side of their mother church in the appointed -time. It is not children that they are receiving; but full-grown -men, accustomed most pertinaciously to think for themselves. -They began with being reformers, and it must be confessed -with some of the boldness of reformers. Will they be -content to change their skins? To become sheep, from having -been, as it were, wolves? To smother the cunning and the -clever thought, which seems so flattering to one’s own vanity, -in the cold, dead ashes of papal infallibility? <span class='it'>We shall see.</span>” -This is reasonable, and consoling. We may not live to see -it; but a rebellion against Truth must have its rebound, and -Church and State will be stronger for such rebellions in the -end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If then, the decline of English arts and arms be near, of -which I am by no means as confident as some, it will be a very -slow decline, and coincident with a new glory, and a brighter -one, than England yet has known. Instead of armies, she is now -sending forth soldiers of the Prince of Peace. She has discovered -that it is cheaper and wiser to sustain missionaries than bayonets. -The era of her greatest work is before her. She is to become -the nursing mother of nations, and in her language, the -sound of the Gospel is to go forth into all lands, and unto the -end of the world. Hers is the deposit of the faith once delivered -to the saints. The Roman Churches have divorced themselves -from the promises, and in the Catholicity of England chiefly is -fulfilled the promise of Christ, to be always with His own Apostolic -commission, even to the end of the world. At the same -time, there is a moral life in English society, which must long -salt the State, and preserve it from decay. I appeal to the -common sense of Christian men, and I ask, in what other country -under heaven is there such a mass of domestic and social -purity? Where else is there so large a benevolence, so masculine -a religion, so enlightened a conscience, among any people? -England has her shame as well as her glory; she is part and parcel -of a sinful world; but her light is not hid under a bushel: -and if the hope of the world be not in her candle, I am at a loss -to know where to find encouragement as a Christian, that the -Gospel is to become universal. I believe, indeed, that my own -country is to share, with her, this magnificent career of peaceful -conquest. We are bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh: but -I believe, also, that before we can heal the nations, we must first -heal ourselves of the wretched religious anarchy which is the -bane of our education, our society, and our National character.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After lingering for a few days in the society of my friends, in -London and Oxford, I was, once more, for a short time, the guest -of the friend to whom this memorial is inscribed, and met at his -table, again, the venerable Vicar, who was one of the first to -welcome me to England. To part with such friends, and their -families, perhaps forever, was only to become aware how deeply -I had entwined with theirs, my brotherly feelings and Christian -regards. But I had been long enough enjoying myself amid the -scenes and friendships which even our holy religion, while it -alone can produce them, forbids to our self-indulgence, in a world -where every Christian is called to the work of a missionary. -Much as I longed to mingle in the delights of an English Christmas, -I felt the call of duty, and the blessedness of giving as greater -than that of receiving. My own parishioners expected to see -me at the altar, on the approaching feast, and my heart warmed -towards them, as deserving my best endeavours to gratify their -reasonable wishes. Thanks, under God, to the good steamer -Baltic, and its skillful commander, I escaped the perils of a wintry -sea, and on Christmas-eve, was restored to my flock, and -family, in Hartford. On the following day, as I celebrated the -Holy Eucharist, I trust it was not without befitting gratitude to -<span class='sc'>God</span>, nor without a new and profound sense of the blessings we -owe to him, whose Gospel is the spirit of “peace on earth, and -of good-will to men.”</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.5em;'>DANA AND COMPANY,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>No. 381 BROADWAY, NEW YORK,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>(<span class='it'>Sign of the Imperial Folio Bible</span>),</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>HAVE FOR SALE—</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/iholy.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:250px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Oxford University Editions</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They have just published:—</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'><span class='it'>Two Superior Editions of</span></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/icommon.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:325px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'>16mo. and 24mo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Styles and Prices as follows:—</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.1em;'>16mo.</p> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 2em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(1)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>Turkey Morocco, super extra,</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'>$</td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>2.50</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>antique or flexible,</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(2)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>The same with clasp</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>3.00</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(3)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>Turkey Morocco, (Second Style)</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>1.75</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(4)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>The same with clasp</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>2.25</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(5)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>French Morocco</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>1.25</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(6)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>Roan</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>1.12</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(7)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>Roan</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'>red edges</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>1.00</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>(8)</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>Roan</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle1'>marble edges</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c5 tdStyle0'>88</td><td class='tab1c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.1em;'>24mo.</p> - -<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 2em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(1)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>Turkey Morocco, super extra,</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'>$</td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>2.00</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>antique or flexible,</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(2)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>The same with clasp</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>2.50</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(3)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>Turkey Morocco, (Second Style)</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>1.25</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(4)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>The same with clasp</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>1.75</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(5)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>French Morocco</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>1.00</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(6)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>Roan</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'>gilt edges</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>80</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(7)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>Roan</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'>red edges</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>75</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>(8)</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'>Roan</td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'>marble edges</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c5 tdStyle0'>63</td><td class='tab2c6 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -</table> - -<div class='blockquote1r2'> - -<p class='noindent'><img src='images/H.jpg' style='float:left;' alt='H'/>These Editions are printed in a superior manner, -and excel other editions, of same general style, in the size of -type of the Psalms and Hymns.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>UNISON OF THE LITURGY.</span> <span class='it'>From Advent to Ash-Wednesday.</span> -<span class='sc'>By Archer Gifford</span>, A. M. <span class='it'>12mo. 328 -pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price</span>, $1.00.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>It is pleasing to see a mind which has been long given to the duties -of a severe profession, turning thus for relief and diversion into the -brighter field of theological literature. Mr. Gifford has already gained -a distinction in New Jersey by several legal works, which have had -the patronage of our Legislature, and now we have another volume -from his pen, intended, as it were, for a dutiful offering to his -Church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The design of the work is to unfold and illustrate the more profound -and unapparent excellencies of that most elaborate of all productions, -the Episcopal Liturgy. Although there may be a difference -of opinion as to the utility of this manual of devotional formularies, -yet no one can fail to admire it as an æsthetical composition. The -manner in which it has been arranged and ordered is most strikingly -beautiful. It is a frame filled with moveable pieces. On no two -occasions of its use does it appear exactly alike, but constantly -assumes new combinations with the progressive sentiment of the -ecclesiastical year. These ever changing portions within this unalterable -framework are wholly of a Scriptural character. For every -Sunday, two chapters are selected from the Old Testament, and two -from the New, called the “Lessons;” and two brief passages, chosen -for their weighty and emphatic import, called the “Epistle” and the -“Gospel,” are appropriately prefixed by a comprehensive and leading -prayer, whose substance has been gathered out of them, called the -“Collect.” But this is not merely a superficial arrangement: an aim -and a principle underlies it all. Every Sunday and Holy-day has an -especial subject assigned to it, either doctrinal or preceptive, which -runs through and dictates all these variations of the Service. Thus in -every week the Scriptures are made, by these manifold citations from -them, to cluster around some central thought and flash their light -upon it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is this which has furnished the design of Mr. Gifford’s book. -The Prayer-Book has had many commentators, all of whom have -alluded to the nearly-inspired wisdom of those who put it together. -The further they penetrate it the more they seem to discover the -long-forgotten ideal and matured plan out of which it grew. The -remarkable fact of an intentional unison of its apparently diverse -parts, has only been partially observed, and it has been left to Mr. -Gifford to discover and prove in every case the beautiful appositeness -of all to one nucleus idea. This, under the heading of each Sunday, -he distinctly sets forth, and then traces its radiations first through the -Collect, then through the Epistle, then through the Gospel, then -through all the Lessons, to its remoter scintillations in the Catechism -and the Articles of Religion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such is the fine conception around which the above work has -grown. The service of each Sunday is analyzed and outlined—all the -information that could be compressed into a small space is given, and -a rich variety of association instantly suggested to the devout worshipper. -Probably no one could have been found better fitted for -such a task than Mr. Gifford, and his cultivated taste and wide range -of study have been now so successfully called into requisition that -we find here the thoughts and beauties of many different writers -blended about his own design in a many-hued mosaic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is at once a noble eulogy upon the Liturgy, and a practical standard -guide to its use. In this latter, its real purpose, it most admirably -succeeds. The moral or spirit of each day being fully set forth, the -attention is sustained and devotion quickened by the new colors and -the defined interest thus thrown over the Service as it proceeds. A -Liturgy is liable to abuse if people may go blindly and desultorily -through it, but here the clue of every recurring service is seized and -industriously pursued for them. One prominent topic is seen to draw -its line of light round all its parts, and bind them together as with -a girdle of gold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have been glad to devote more than usual space to the notice -of this work, because it is the production of one of our townsmen. -A few specimen pages appeared about a year ago, which received the -approbation of many of the most distinguished men in the Episcopal -Church, and the author, thus encouraged, has put forth the present -handsome volume, designing to follow it by another, thus completing -the circle of the year.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Newark Daily Advertiser</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The work will do good in two ways: first, by furnishing valuable -practical matter for private reading and instruction; and secondly, -by dissipating the mist which some writers have conjured up, in their -efforts to show that the Prayer Book was a piece of patch-work, -with an Arminian or a Popish Liturgy, and Calvinistic Articles; than -which, no fancy could be more foolish or futile.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='it'>Calendar</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>SERMONS FOR THE TIMES.</span> By the Rev. <span class='sc'>Charles -Kingsley</span>, Author of “<span class='it'>Village Sermons</span>,” “<span class='it'>Alton Locke</span>,” -<span class='it'>etc.</span> <span class='it'>12mo., 360 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, 75 cents.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>These Sermons are Kingsley all over; deep, daring, dashing penetrating; -vigorous. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * -It strikes us as being a kind of preaching that we want just now—that -it is indeed preaching “for the times;” in character with -the times, and, therefore, adapted for the times: yet, not in any -spirit of compromise with the world therein, but rather combating -the spirit of the world with the Spirit of Christ, in a matter-of-fact -way. We think, therefore, that the Clergy may find some useful -hints in the pages of this volume, while the Laity may peruse -them with practical advantage.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Churchman.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>These are remarkable Sermons, as were those of his former volume. -They are models of a plain and direct style; sparkling with forcible -allusions and applications. They illustrate the teaching of our Catechism -to a considerable extent, and often in the happiest manner, -regarding it as a symbol of Catholic truth. They are worth reading -for their power and demonstrations of most important doctrines, little -heeded in these times, when the Puritan and Sectarian spirit seeks to -prevail.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Banner of the Cross.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is a reprint of one of the most characteristic, if not one of the -most extraordinary volumes of the day, which no one can read without -interest, and few without profit. There is something striking, not -to say startling, about everything the author says; and yet the language -is so simple and appropriate, as to be perfectly intelligible to -every one.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Calendar.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>A capital volume it is—his style seems to gain in directness, crispness, -vigor, and momentum, as he grows older. It is as clear as English -can be made. A healthy common sense rules throughout * * -* * * * In our day when muddy heads do so greatly abound, a -volume of such sturdy, pungent, powerful and illuminating Saxon, is -of the highest worth.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Church Journal.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>They are incomparable Sermons for <span class='it'>Lay</span>-reading.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>SERMONS FOR THE TIMES.</span> By the Rev. <span class='sc'>Charles -Kingsley</span>, <span class='it'>Author of</span> “<span class='it'>Village Sermons</span>,” “<span class='it'>Alton Locke</span>,” -<span class='it'>etc.</span> <span class='it'>12mo., 360 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, 75 cents.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>These sermons abound in striking thoughts, presented with remarkable -clearness and simplicity.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Christian Witness.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>* * * * With all the faults of these sermons, we should like -to see them in the hands of our evangelical clergy. * * *</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Southern Churchman.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>These sermons were written by the same pen that wrote “Alton -Locke,” and “Yeast.” It has been said that the author is only a baptised -infidel, and that he desecrates his pulpit and his clerical character -to the unhallowed purpose of promulgating a skepticism, whose -only redeeming feature is that it is ill-concealed. These “Sermons -for the Times” make an entirely different impression on us. They -seem to us to be the heart utterances of one whose views are on some -points, indeed, a little peculiar, but who holds, with a clear intelligence -and lively faith, the great truths of the Gospel of Christ. If -Infidelity can sincerely preach and practice the doctrines with which -this volume is rife, we think it will be doing as much to convert the -world to true religion as some religionists we wot of, whose strength -is so exhausted in proving other folks heretics, that they have little -left to make themselves or the world the servants of God. To such, -and to all, we commend the “Sermons for the Times.” They will do -all good.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Ohio Farmer.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>This second volume of sermons by Mr. Kingsley contains the earnest -words of an English clergyman upon the evils of the times. They -are addressed to the hearers of a country parish church, in plain, -honest Saxon, enforcing the Church Catechism and rebuking the selfishness, -dishonesty, irreverence, profligacy and godlessness of the -day. In quaint, straightforward simplicity, they remind us of the -services of the good Hugh Latimer, of blessed memory.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Rome Daily Sentinel.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The discourses are remarkable for their simplicity, yet they evince -rare intellectual power, and each page gives evidence of the genius -of the author.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Boston Evening Transcript.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>They are so practical and sensible that they will be read with profit -and pleasure by all persons who are seekers after truth.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Boston Daily Advertiser.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>OUR CHURCH MUSIC.</span>—<span class='it'>A Book for Pastors and People.</span> -By <span class='sc'>Richard Storrs Willis</span>. <span class='it'>12mo., 138 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, 50 cents.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>The Church has a good right to look to Mr. Richard S. Willis, as -being, perhaps, of all our youthful native musicians, the one of whom -she may expect the most true hearted and efficient service. His training, -however scientific, has not been that which would qualify him -the most readily for usefulness in this field: but there is an earnest -devotion of spirit, a reaching forth after the deep and the true, a -growing strength and manliness, exercised and made firm by a steady -industry, which promise the best results. He has just issued a neat -little volume on <span class='it'>Our Church Music, a Book for Pastors and People</span>, -which is the best and most thoughtful practical essay that has for a -long time appeared among us.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Church Journal.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Were it not for the copyright on this admirable book, we should -be compelled to transfer large portions of it to our pages. As it is, -we hope to give, hereafter, some specimens of it, and in the mean -time, cordially recommend it for its interest and the usefulness of its -suggestions.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Episcopal Recorder.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many of the articles collected in this pleasant and thoughtful -volume have been already published in our columns; and we are glad -to know that they have attracted that attention among our readers -which they deserve. The series is now completed, by the addition of -others, not so well adapted to a journal like this, because requiring -diagrams, etc., to illustrate them, but harmonious with those in tone -and teaching, and equally rich in useful suggestions. Mr. Willis has -brought the finest musical cultivation of Europe to assist him in his -task, but has never allowed his artistic taste and knowledge to overlay -and smother his native good sense, or his instinctive perception -of what is demanded in true church music. We have found his -writings on this subject instructive and quickening; the more so, perhaps, -because our own half-formed thoughts have often been brought -back to us by him, more fully and clearly expressed than they had -been to ourselves, and clothed with the authority that belongs to one -who is so rapidly becoming a recognised Master in his chosen department.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Independent.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>OUR CHURCH MUSIC.</span>—<span class='it'>A Book for Pastors and People.</span> -By <span class='sc'>Richard Storrs Willis</span>. <span class='it'>12mo., 138 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, 50 cents.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Willis in this work considers church music mainly as a part of -worship, which is its true and original design, and not as a mere entertainment -interposed between the graver offices of devotion and instruction. -He points out the objections to the common modes of conducting -church music, stating them with a good deal of force and vivacity. -* * * * Mr. Willis thinks that to make our music what it ought -to be, “we need to simplify the congregational style and amplify the -choir style.” He gives some practical suggestions, well worthy of -consideration, respecting the singing of children in churches, the -position of the choir and organ, the importance of clergymen possessing -some knowledge of music as an art, and the training of the youth -of a congregation in singing. In a second part of his treatise, Mr. -Willis considers what subjects are proper for hymns, the adaptation -of hymns to music, the treatment of words, the expression given to -them in singing, and the introduction of what he calls “secular -efforts” in church music. His views on all these subjects bear witness -to his fine taste and careful study of the subject. Mr. Willis has -given to both the scientific and practical part of music the study of -years, and is entitled to speak on the subject with a tone of decision.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>New York Evening Post.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The author is possessed of a profound scientific musical education, -perfected in the best schools in Europe. Since his return home he -has been engaged in editing the Musical World, a paper which has -done more than all other publications together to diffuse and popularize -a correct musical taste in this country. His journal is not confined, -however, to musical criticism, but comprehends also every other -branch of the Fine Arts, and is characterized by candid and intelligent -exposition and elegant discussion. Mr. Willis has given much attention -to <span class='it'>Church Music</span>, and the just views so ably and earnestly -enforced in the Musical World, are beginning to produce a practical -impression that exhibits itself extensively in improvements introduced -into that department of public worship. These he has embodied into -a volume bearing the title “Our Church Music: a book for Pastors -and People.” It is full of interest to the pastor, the choir, and the -congregation.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>New York Journal of Commerce.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>OUR CHURCH MUSIC.</span>—<span class='it'>A Book for Pastors and People.</span> -By <span class='sc'>Richard Storrs Willis</span>. <span class='it'>12mo. 138 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, 50 cents.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>A little work, designed—as the title page indicates—“for Pastors -and People,” and one that may be advantageously studied by both. -The author is most favorably known to our lettered and musical community, -as editor of that excellent periodical, “<span class='it'>The Musical World</span>;” but -he here takes his stand upon a broader basis. He does not treat of the -choral arrangements generally prevalent in the tone or spirit of a Professor. -He sinks the Art, of which he is a practised master, under the -solemn claims of the dignity and hallowed purposes of Church worship, -and plies his arguments for the benefit of congregations alone. He complains—and -with reason—that in many of the American churches, -the singing and chanting are just as much <span class='it'>performances</span>, in the ordinary -acceptation of the term, as though auditors and singers were -in a concert-room; and points out very simply and cogently how this -evil has arisen, and how it may be modified, if not removed. Psalmody -also comes in for an examination; and we must say we have -been greatly struck with the combined boldness, delicacy, and religious -sentiment, displayed by Mr. Willis, in handling a somewhat -delicate theme—one in which many of the Clergy are averse to having -outsiders meddle.—In short, this duodecimo of one hundred and -thirty pages is an exceedingly suggestive little work; its common -sense and practical view bringing it within the comprehension of non-professional -readers. It has greatly interested us. May it be of use.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Albion.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>A book this, full of common sense, and most happily adapted to the -state of things in ten thousand places of worship in the United States. -As we have turned over its pages we have exclaimed again and again, -“How true! How well said! Would that everybody could read it!” -The adoption of the suggestions made in this volume would work a -speedy revolution in our Church music, transforming it from a mere -professional display, into simple and beautiful, because heartfelt, worship. -Let it then be widely circulated.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Ohio Farmer.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>A glance over its chapter-headings will reveal to all interested in -the subject of the volume, the richness of its themes. The manner of -their discussion seems to us judicious and sensible, and almost wholly -in the right direction. We do not accord with some of the criticisms -of the work, but we certainly believe that its author is in advance of -the world in his teachings, and that the study of his treatise must -make our church music better.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Congregationalist.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>HEART AND HOME TRUTHS.</span>—By the Rev. <span class='sc'>R. -Whittingham, Jr.</span> <span class='it'>12mo., 188 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, 75 cents.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Heart and Home Truths</span> is the modest title of a work, in which will -be found much more than the average of deep thought, and true tender -feeling. From the contemplation of the most familiar features -of natural things, the nature of <span class='it'>Truth</span> is beautifully illustrated, and -the modes by which it is to be attained are shown to be in the closest -analogy with the other works of Him, who hath composed in one -Spirit, both the Book of Nature and the Book of Revelation. Its -doctrinal tone is high and uncompromising, though altogether devoid -of harshness; and the drapery of style is as rich with the embroidery -of fancy and a glowing imagination, as the glorious face of nature itself -can make it. This unpretending work will make a way for the -Truth in the minds of many, upon whom a more didactic manner -would be thrown away.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Church Journal.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<p class='hang'>THE END OF CONTROVERSY, CONTROVERTED.—By -the Rt. Rev. <span class='sc'>John H. Hopkins</span>, D.D., <span class='it'>Bishop of Vermont</span>. -<span class='it'>In two vols. 12mo., 918 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, $2.00.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>The well-known work of the Romish Bishop, Milner, entitled, “<span class='it'>The -End of Controversy</span>,” was recommended some years ago by the Romish -Bishop Kenrick, to all our Bishops, as a book, the perusal of which -would bring them into the Romish Church; a movement which he -exhorted them to take soon, lest their <span class='it'>people</span> should all go before them, -and leave them alone. That work is still extensively circulated -throughout all this country, and many earnest Protestants have long -desired a work which might be a popular as well as a conclusive -reply. This want is now supplied. Milner is plausible, ingenious, -bold, unscrupulous, and withal <span class='it'>readable</span>. The difficulty has been -hitherto, not to answer the book—for that has been done again and -again—but to answer it in such a way as would enable them to meet -the enemy upon his own ground. The well-known familiarity of the -Bishop of Vermont with every phase of the Romish controversy, his -thorough learning, clear reasoning, and brilliant and effective style, -have all contributed to make this one of the most successful of his -contributions to the cause of Truth. And the present position of the -controversy with Rome, and the keenness with which public attention -is aroused to meet her terrible aggressions, will give occasion for the -circulation of works like this, which, without ever compromising or -ignoring the truth still remaining in the midst of corruption, yet, -throughout, maintains the most vigorous and triumphant opposition -to the errors of Rome.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<p class='hang'>A PRESBYTERIAN CLERGYMAN LOOKING FOR -THE CHURCH.—By the Rev. <span class='sc'>Flavel S. Mines</span>. <span class='it'>12mo., -600 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, $1.25.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>This is now acknowledged to be the leading work in the Controversy -between Episcopacy and Presbyterianism. It has already had a more -extensive circulation than any other; and from the vigorous style of -the author, his glowing and copious rhetoric, the popular ease with -which he handles his subject, and the masterly skill with which he -arranges his argument, so that the full force of every point shall, as -it were, stare the reader in the face, there is small probability that -this brilliant and standard work will ever be superseded.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<p class='hang'>DICTIONARY OF THE CHURCH.—By the Rev. -<span class='sc'>William Staunton</span>. <span class='it'>12mo., 474 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, $1.00.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>This is the original work, which has since been the model of others -in England and elsewhere. In clearness of style, and fulness of detail -as regards everything peculiar to the Protestant Episcopal Church in -this country, it is altogether without a rival. It will aid many a -Churchman to render a reason for the System of the Church; and, to -those not of her Communion, it will explain fully everything which -at first sight may appear to them strange or inappropriate.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<p class='hang'>THE PLAIN SONG OF THE CHURCH. <span class='it'>Recently -Published. 16mo., 80 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, 38 cents.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>For congregational chanting, to be done in <span class='it'>unison</span> by all those -who can sing, the ancient <span class='it'>plain song</span> of the Church is the only music -which will ensure success. The real <span class='it'>Gregorians</span> have been much -talked of on this side of the water; but this is the <span class='it'>first</span> and only work -in which they have yet <span class='it'>appeared</span>. All other publications containing -them, have so far modified or altered them, as to ruin their true effect. -In simplicity and plasticity, in strength and dignity, and manly character, -no other chants are to be compared with them. The above work -includes all the Canticles of Morning and Evening Prayer, together -with the occasional Anthems appointed for Easter Day, Thanksgiving, -the Consecration of a Church, and the Institution of a Minister. It -gives also the ancient notation for all the parts of the Service which -may be performed chorally. The <span class='it'>canto fermo</span> is in the ancient character; -the accompaniment is in the modern notation.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>MEN AND TIMES OF THE REVOLUTION;</span> or, <span class='sc'>Memoirs -of Elkanah Watson</span>; <span class='it'>Including Journals of -Travels in Europe and America, from 1777 to 1842, -with his Correspondence with Public Men, and Reminiscences -and Incidents of the Revolution. Edited by -his son</span>, <span class='sc'>Winslow C. Watson</span>. <span class='it'>8vo., 460 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, $1.50.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr Watson has contributed an interesting and valuable work to -the literature of the Revolution. A worthy descendant of the Pilgrims, -he traversed our country several times during the period of the -War; and for about five years he travelled in England, France, Holland -and Flanders, associating familiarly, at home and abroad, with -statesmen, philosophers, and military men, a shrewd observer, diligently -recording his observations and reflections.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Publisher’s Critic.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The American Merchant,” as we saw him in our boyhood at the -Academy from the easel of the great American artist, Copley, the -powder fresh on his hair, and the <span class='it'>shimmer</span> of the velvet leaving us -in doubt whether his coat was the handiwork of the painter or the -tailor—the American Merchant, Elkanah Watson, lives still on the -canvas of Copley, in colors that time has ripened, and not impaired; -but all that is mortal of this man of Revolutionary times, has been -gathered to his fathers; and his son, Winslow C. Watson, Esq., here -presents us with a volume of reminiscences, whose only fault is its -brevity.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Evening Post.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>* * * * These posthumous papers will be universally welcomed -by the public. They form an invaluable repository of facts -and reflections, which will materially aid the researches of the biographer -and the historian. Mr. Watson’s correspondence with public -men, his familiar intercourse with the prominent characters of the -Revolution, his observations in Europe at a time when the fortunes -of America were trembling in the balance, exhibit in a new light the -multitude of influences which, in the Old World and in the New, -were brought to bear in favor of our independence, and finally led to -its acknowledgment, first by France, Holland and Spain, and lastly -by the mother country. * * * * * * * * * * * * * -But here we must leave this fascinating volume, not, however, without -urging our readers to seek a further acquaintance with its pages.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>New York Evening Mirror.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<p class='hang'><span style='font-size:larger'>MEN AND TIMES OF THE REVOLUTION;</span> or, -<span class='sc'>Memoirs or Elkanah Watson</span>; <span class='it'>Including Journals -of Travels in Europe and America, from 1777 to 1842, -with his Correspondence with Public Men, and Reminiscences -and Incidents of the Revolution. Edited by -his son</span>, <span class='sc'>Winslow C. Watson</span>. <span class='it'>8vo., 460 pages.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Price, $1.50.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>The title-page of this volume indicates very justly its real character. -The first seventy-five pages of the book are filled with exceedingly -interesting reminiscences of Mr. Watson’s early life, including -the minute details of his experience and observations in his travels on -horseback from Connecticut to South Carolina and back, immediately -after the commencement of the Revolutionary War. The following -one hundred and sixty pages embrace a record of his experience and -observation during a four years’ sojourn and travel in Europe, from -1779 to 1784; and the remaining two hundred and twenty pages are -occupied with recollections pertaining to a multitude of places, -incidents, and individuals, and with extracts from his correspondence -with many persons of distinction in the past generation. The period -through which the volume takes the reader, the rare opportunities -afforded its author of acquiring a personal knowledge of its political -history and the varied phases of its society, his quick and keen -observation, and his constant habit of recording what he saw and -heard, and his impressions in regard to men and events, render it -not only an interesting and instructive volume, but an important -acquisition to our sources of national history.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Protestant Churchman.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is an entertaining and instructive biography of a gentleman who -was a leading American merchant during the Revolution.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Episcopal Recorder.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'> * * * Few men had so long and varied an experience. More -than half these memoirs is an autobiography; the remainder has -been compiled from the manuscripts, correspondence, &c., of the deceased. -The whole work is exceedingly entertaining, and will be of -service to future historians.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>His travels, his extensive acquaintance with all sorts of people, -extending up from the Revolution until a very recent period, make a -volume of much more than ordinary interest.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>New Haven Morning Journal and Courier.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> -<p> </p> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'>Transcriber’s Note:</p> - -<p class='noindent'>The book cover image was created by the transcriber -and is placed in the public domain.</p> -<p class='noindent'>Hyphenation and archaic spellings have been retained -as in the original.</p> -<p class='noindent'> Punctuation has been corrected without note. Other -errors have been corrected as noted below:</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>page xi, town—Litchfield Cathedral, ==> town—<a href='#lich'>Lichfield</a> Cathedral,</p> -<p class='line'>page 11, an ancient minister, ==> an ancient <a href='#minster'>minster</a>,</p> -<p class='line'>page 31, entered by Poet’s corner. ==> entered by <a href='#poet1'>Poets’ Corner</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>page 32, objects in Poet’s Corner, ==> objects in <a href='#poet2'>Poets’</a> Corner,</p> -<p class='line'>page 33, the Dean’s ultilitarianism ==> the Dean’s <a href='#util'>utilitarianism</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 50, character of it scenery ==> character of <a href='#its'>its</a> scenery</p> -<p class='line'>page 70, joys and sorows; ==> joys and <a href='#sorrow'>sorrows</a>;</p> -<p class='line'>page 118, busts in Poet’s corner, ==> busts in <a href='#poet3'>Poets’ Corner</a>,</p> -<p class='line'>page 122, familiar to Shakspereans, ==> familiar to <a href='#shak'>Shakspeareans</a>,</p> -<p class='line'>page 123, visiting Hounsditch and Billingsgate, ==> visiting <a href='#hound'>Houndsditch</a> and Billingsgate,</p> -<p class='line'>page 140, manuscript of Cœdmon, ==> manuscript of <a href='#caed'>Cædmon</a>,</p> -<p class='line'>page 165, Mall and St. James’ street ==> Mall and St. <a href='#james1'>James’s-street</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 166, down St. James’-street, and ==> down St. <a href='#james2'>James’s</a>-street, and</p> -<p class='line'>page 166, (as pourtrayed in his ==> (as <a href='#por'>portrayed</a> in his</p> -<p class='line'>page 168, by Lord George Lenox ==> by Lord George <a href='#lenn'>Lennox</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 193, tine artificial cataract ==> <a href='#fine'>fine</a> artificial cataract</p> -<p class='line'>page 239, most pleasing representive ==> most pleasing <a href='#rep'>representative</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 246, Hanoverians, surrending art ==> Hanoverians, <a href='#surr'>surrendering</a> art</p> -<p class='line'>page 259, towards the Solant ==> towards the <a href='#solent'>Solent</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 276, yet, unless <span class='it'>Encœnia</span> ==> yet, unless <span class='it'><a href='#encaen'>Encænia</a></span></p> -<p class='line'>page 288, St. Wilfrids’ needle ==> St. <a href='#wilf'>Wilfrid’s</a> needle</p> -<p class='line'>page 304, enthusiasm exibits itself ==> enthusiasm <a href='#exhib'>exhibits</a> itself</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 53952-h.htm or 53952-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/9/5/53952">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/5/53952</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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