'•: XS «5°<* .^ °«* ; .1 ,v ,v$§s^ °° i c ^\~ cy * *, V k^K^*. °o OLD WORLD SCENES. / s/ BY CHAKLES WILLIAMS. England! with all thy faults, I love thee still. COWPHR. Whoever, with an earnest soul, Strives for some end above his reach afar, Still upward travels, though he miss the goal, And strays, — but toward a star. PI TTSBURGH: PRINTED BY W. S. HAVEN, CORNER OF WOOD AND THIRD STRKET3. 1867. J ADVERTISEM ENT. This little book is respectfully offered to the intelligent readers of our country, in the hope that it may have a tendency to awaken an interest in the scenes among which it dwells, or renew an acquaintance with places so often described ; as it is ever pleasant to see the same object from different points of view, or through the medium of different minds. The work is designed to be of general interest to both old and young, but is especially directed "to those whose hearts are warmed with an in- tense admiration for the truly Great in Literature, in Science, and in Art, which the British Isles and Paris offer to our view. It may also serve to show how much enjoyment may be extracted from a small amount of money, without the loss of self-respect, or the respect of our fellow men. A supplementary chapter is devoted es- pecially to this object. It is not egotistic. Personal items are generally suppressed. The present edition will be one dollar per copy. It will be sent by mail, post paid, on receipt of price. The usual discount to the trade. It can be had at any time by addressing Charles Williams, Salem, Ohio. EKKATA. Page 42 4th line from top, omit " and." 74 10th " " for " Nerbuaha" read " Nerbudha." 77 7th M bottom, for " I Chron." read « II Chron." 78 3d " top, for last " the" read " he." 84 13th " " for " fringes" read " figures." 95 18th " bottom, for " Levorrier" read " Leverrier," 113 7th " " . for " Kensington" read " Kennington. 122 4th " top, no pause after " death." 182 5th " " for "owns" read "owes." 230 7th " bottom, for "braches" read " branches." 222 3d " " " untelligible" read " unintelligible." 224 4th " " " minature," read " miniature." PREFACE. 'Tis pleasant sure to see one's name in print, A book's a book — although there's nothing in't. — Byron. This trifle, begun to please only myself and my own private fancy, was laid on the shelf; but some friends having seen it, induced me, by dint of saying they liked it, to put ft in print. That is, having come to this very conclusion, I consulted them when it could make no confusion. Fable for Critics. Friendly Header : I offer for thy perusal the following narrative" of a journey to the vestibule of the Old "World. The child of my brain, — my ambition the father, — the mother my fancy — I send it forth with fear and trembling to seek its level in the Kepublic of Letters. A name, a name, — is the magic spell that tosses volumes to an eager world ; — the herald that announces the advent of a newborn child of Intellect ; — the Angel that troubles the waters of the Literary Bethesda, and straightway plunges in the candidate for public favor, to heal it of whatsoever dis- ease it has, — to guard it from the plague-spot of the critic's touch and the blighting breath of public scorn, of general, perhaps unmerited neglect. My little book is totally without this talismanic charm. My aim has been to supply to the intelligent youth of our land a faithful description, — enlivened with the ebullitions of a fancy somewhat vigorous rather than delicate, — of the great scenes of artistic, of architectural, and historic interest in Great Britain and Paris — a work, the want of which I often and severely felt in my younger days. I have not descended to- the minuter details of my journey ; for what reader would care to be involved in the all-absorbing Vlll PREFACE. questions of my personal affairs : — whether I slept well or ill at such a place, — whether I dined on mutton chops or herring, — how often the rain penetrated beyond my overcoat, — or how often my hat went sailing away on the southern breeze, setting at nought all considerations of propriety, — triumphantly asking to be let alone, and obstinately defying the coercive powers of the central government. I am fully aware that a writer's individuality, — one of the greatest charms of our literary travelers, — is often wrapped up in questions of these trivial natures ; but such is not my province. My fancy is not sufficiently playful to invest these little matters with that halo of beauty which alone would entitle them to the attention of my readers, if indeed that class of people are found. But one personal trait I have embodied: one which many, perhaps most, would keep in the background as far as possible — that is, my poverty. I made the journey on less than two hundred and twenty dollars, and have paraded this fact in a "supplementary chapter, with a full account of my way of trav- eling ; thus endeavoring to show to our ^Republican boys that a vast fund of enjoyment lays fully and fairly within their reach, if they will only consent to look at the world without endeavoring to make themselves conspicuous, and fitting them- selves out with all the trappings of the traveler's portmanteau : in short, if they will consent to look at the world without ex- pecting the world to look at them. I feel confident I enjoyed as full, as free access to all the chief places of interest, as if I had laid out twice ten-fold the sum. My descriptions may be relied on as truthful, and the sentiment which will occasionally be found, is that of an ardent lover of the fine arts, an admirer of the beautiful in nature, an enthusiast perhaps amid the scenes of historic fame and the noble ruins of antiquity ; whose heart, however, has never been weaned from the love of the star-spangled banner — whose affections never estranged from the glorious institutions of our own America. Salem, Ohio, 1st Month, 1863. CONTENTS. Page. Preface, .__ vii Chapter I. The Voyage, - 1 Embarking— First View of the Ocean— Phosphorescence of the Water— Moonlight on the Ocean— Sunrise— First View of England. Chapter II. Liverpool, 6 Letter from Home— St. George's Hall— English and Amer- ican Patriotism. Chapter III. Ancient Abbeys, - 11 Kirkstall— Contrast of the Past and Present— Fountain's Abbey — Tribute to Modern Improvement. Chapter IV. City oe York, - 17 York Minster— Music— Population of England. Chapter V. London, - - - 21 A World in Miniature— Public Works— Great Features. Chapter VI. . St. Paul's, - - - ' ■-- - 25 Exterior — Interior — Under the Dome — Requiem for Prince Albert— Whispering Gallery — Golden Gallery. Chapter VII. The Crystal Palace, - 31 The Park — Ancient Courts — View in the Evening Twi- light— By Moonlight. Chapter VIII. The British Museum, - 37 Libraries — Reading Room — Geologic or North Gallery- Elgin Marbles— Their thrilling Associations— Egyptian Gallery— A Voice from the Past. X CONTENTS. Page. Chapter IX. Westminster Abbey, - 47 Its hoary Grandeur— Poet's Corner— Addison's Tomb- Newton's Monument— Henry VII.'s Chapel— Coronation Chairs — Morning Service. Chapter X. Houses of Parliament, - 53 English Throne — Accommodations for the Nobles — Westminster Hall— Ludicrous Mistake. Chapter XI. National Gallery of Painting, 59 Spirit of Beauty — Claude's Embarkation of Queen of Sheba— Correggio — Titian— Reubens— Turner— Dulwich 'Gallery. Chapter XII. Tower of London, - 66 Crown Jewels — Tragedies of History — Tower Hill- Whitehall— Cromwell. Chapter XIII. Zoological and Botanic Gardens, - 71 Gardens at Kew— The Torrid Zone in a World of Crystal. Chapter XIV. Spurgeon, - 75 His Audiences — Character of his Oratory— His Prayer— His Sermon — Rev. Mr. Punshon — His Picture of the Outward World— Free Grace. Chapter XV. Hampton Court, - 82 State Rooms— Raphael's Cartoons— Great Hall of Woolsey —Tapestry. Chapter XVI. South Kensington Museum, 87 Superior Paintings— East India Museum— Royal Hall and Throne. Chapter XVII. Christmas Pantomimes, - 91 Grand Transformation Scene— Chemical Lights. Chapter XVIII. Greenwich Observatory, - 95 The Nestling Place of Science— Longings for Admission —Visit— Instruments. CONTENTS. XI. Page. Chapter XIX. International Exhibition, 101 Great May-Day in London— The Ko-hi-noor— Swiss Night- ingale. Chapter XX. Kambles in London, - J08 London Bridge — London Stone — Parks — Cheapside- Thames Tunnel. / •Chapter XXI. Kambles Continued, - - 118 London Fogs— Temple Church— Goldsmith— Dr. Johnson — Poverty and Poetry— Milton's Grave. Chapter XXII. Stonehenge, ... 126 Its Mystery. Chapter XXIII. Scenery of the Wye, - 130 Analysis of its Character — Double View — Wynd Cliff — Tintern Abbey— Falls of Llandogo— Departure from the Wye. Chapter XXIY. Stratford-on-Avon, - 138 Shakspeare's Birth-Place — Scenes of his Childhood — His Garden— His Grave — Tribute to his Memory. Chapter XXV. The Giant's Causeway, 144 Storm Passage to Ireland — Irish Patriotism — Rugged Scenery — Columned Halls — Dunluce Castle. Chapter XXVI. Lord Koss' Telescopes, 150 Descent from the Stars — Modern Astronomy— Lord Ross —His Monster Telescope — His "Workshops— Casting and Polishing a Speculum — View of Saturn, Jupiter and the Moon through his three -foot Instrument — Glory of Astronomy. Chapter XXVII. Irish Scenery, - 157 The Dargle — Meeting of the Waters — Vale of Avoca — City of Dublin — Adieu to Ireland— Britannia Tubular Bridge. Xll CONTENTS. Page. Chapter XXVIII. Edinburgh, - - -* 163 Landing in Scotland— Her Great Men— Holyrood Palace —Crown Jewels in the Castle— Grave of Hugh Miller— His Works— Arthur's Seat— Calton Hill. Chapter XXIX. 170 Melrose Abbey — Hawthornden — Roslin Chapel— Stirling Castle — Battle ground of Bannockburn. <& Chapter XXX. A Day of Pleasure, - 176 Loch Lomond — Highland Scenery— Loch Katrine— Ben- Venue— Ellen's Isle — A Dream of Beauty. Chapter XXXI. - 181 Highland Legends— Brigg of Bracklynn— Ascent of Ben- Ledi — View from the Summit. Chapter XXXII. Paris, - 186 First View of the Sea-shore— Arrival at Paris — The Louvre — Tuilleries — Garden of the Tuilleries — Notre Dame — St. Sulpice— Madeline— Obelisk of Luxor — Place de Concord— Grandeur of its Scenery. Chapter XXXIII. Keverie in pere la Chaise, 197 Chapter XXXIV. 211 Tomb of Napoleon— Rotunda of Hotel des Invalides— City Lights from the Obelisk— Birds-eye View of Paris- Parallel between French and English— Adieu to Paris. Chapter XXXV. 217 Fontainbleau— Versailles— Gardens— Picture Galleries- Statue of Joan of Arc— Perfection of Landscape Painting. Chapter XXXVI. 221 Windsor Castle — Yorkshire — Dialects of the |English Peasantry— Adventure with a Yorkshireman— Town Hall of Leeds— Ely Cathedral by Moonlight— Cambridge- Oxford— Addison's Walk. Chapter XXXVII. 228 Salisbury— Bristol— Clifton Doan— Cardiff Castle— Great Eastern. CONTENTS. Xlll Page. Chapter XXXVIII. - 235 Conway — Chester — Birmingham — Warwick Castle— Shakspeare's Cliff — Loss of Umbrella— Dream of Home. Chapter XXXIX. English feeling toward America, - 240 Receipt for testing your Patriotism— Feeling in Ireland. Chapter XL. Homeward Voyage, - 252 Great Eastern leaving Liverpool — Farewell to Old Eng- land—Dropping Anchor— Departure from Ireland— Sun- set at Sea — Wake of the Vessel— Fourth of July at Sea- Tribute to my Native Land— Sabbath at Sea— One of Life's Fairest Days— Land at New York. Chapter XLI. Supplementary. Economy in Travel, - - 264 Motives and Expenses of the Journey— The Traveler'9 Reveries — Refined Alchemy — Poverty on a Journey — Model Lodging Houses — My Enjoyments — The Attained and the Prospective. OLD WORLD SCENES. CHAPTER I. EMBARKING — FIRST VIEW OF OCEAN — PHOSPHORESCENCE — MOONLIGHT — SUNRISE — ROUGH WEATHER — HOL YHEAD. " Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves, And when you fail my sight, Welcome, green mountains and dark caves; My native land, good night!" — Byron. t$P VOYAGE across the Atlantic opens up many new scenes of interest to one who has always resided in the remote interior. The change is so complete and thorough, and the points of comparison with former experience so few, that it almost seems like entering upon a new stage of existence. On a beautiful autumnal morning we embarked from Philadelphia, to try the dangers and the glories of the sea. A rushing crowd of excited passengers and anxious friends thronged the deck and filled the narrow cabins — piles of baggage, continually increasing, encroached on the already crowded space — the bustle of preparation among the seamen and officers had no tendency to allay the confusion — while the novelty of the scene, and the mingled emotions with which we looked forward to our uncertain sojourn on the bounding billows of the ocean, combined to throw a strange enchantment over the whole proceeding. Meanwhile, the order went forth among the multitude, proclaimed in thunder tones, that all should go ashore who were not bound for the ocean voyngc. Then came 1 2 FIRST VIEW OF OCEAN. the frequent adieu, the fervent blessing, the earnest expression of hope for our safety, and the tearing asunder of ties that had long been a solace to life. The moorings were loosed, and our noble vessel floated out from the shore, amid the cheerings of friends and the excited emotions of the anxious crowds. Parting salutes were repeatedly waved from ship to shore, and the breeze which gently carried us out upon the water, wafted back the answering adieu, and the cordial blessings of friends who remained behind. The objects on shore now assumed the appearance of a vast moving panorama; the City of Brotherly Love and the shores of the old Keystone State passed in review before us'as we glided down the Delaware, till the shades of evening closed around, and the landscape faded for the night. In the morning we were nearing the ocean ; the watery waste is widening before us ; the land appears like a wisp of vapor just hovering on the distant horizon, and our noble vessel walks gracefully out on the bosom of the eternal deep. I feel the grandeur of the view — it is impressive, new, sublime ! Standing thus upon the margin of the mighty ocean, I look forward with awe and trembling into its illimitable expanse — its unbounded arena of wonders, and hail the beauties and the glories which are just opening up before me ; then turn once more to my native land, and wave a fond adieu. The ocean is glorious ! Scenes of new and varied beauty constantly await you. It is delightful to lean over the bulwarks and. watch the vessel ploughing her way through the waters which break in foam around her prow, while the feelings that arise within you as you gaze down into that vast, unfathomable, mysterious profound, must be experienced to be understood. What wild, fantastic caverns, yawning in horrid obscurity, but hung with gems and brilliants ; what craggy mountain ranges, rising you know not how near the surface ; what wide plains and savannas, covered with luxuriant sea-weed and peopled with monsters of the deep — may lie concealed in the abyss beneath you, is left for the fancy alone to determine — and where all is a fearful mystery, the fancy's range is wide and free. PHOSPHORESCENCE— MOONLIGHT. 8 And the phosphorescence of the ocean is one of Nature's greatest wonders. In a dark, moonless night, when a heavy head wind is baffling you, the vessel seems to be running through a mass of fiery snow. All along the sides of the ship, and far back in the troubled wake, wherever the foam is driven, the water sparkles and glistens with the most brilliant corruscations of light ; now a continuous flash runs along the crest of the wave, as though a taper was burning beneath its surface ; and now a dazzling sheet of light goes dancing on in the boiling foam, as though a fragment of the moon had fallen to mingle with the glory of the sea; and these again set off the intense whiteness of the foam to the best advantage, while the white-caps that go roaming over the watery waste sparkle with the same mysterious light, as though the waves were tipped with fire, like myriads of glow- worms gleaming in the distance ; or, as my wayward fancy continually suggested, as though the sea-nymphs were sporting on the turbulent waters by the light of their diamond lamps — while ever and anon the giant waves come surging up from the blackness of night, and beating heavily against the prow of the vessel, go tumbling off to leeward in an avalanche of fiery foam. And then the moonlight ! It is beautiful on land — on the ocean it is fairy-like ! flashing down on the tranquil waters with that mild and gentle radiance which gives them a new and enrapturing beauty as they go dancing along in their brightness and joy, keeping time to the music of the evening breeze as it warbles its anthem of praise ; while the phosphorescent fires that are wont to sparkle in our wake, pale their tiny lustre beneath the full effulgence of the lunar day. Occasionally a glorious sunrise awaited us. One of these was peculiarly fine. A dense bank of clouds broken into separate masses, lay along the eastern sky, and warmed up into life and beauty as the sun approached their borders; deep openings, like rugged chasms, were torn far into their inmost recesses, flashing with all the gorgeous splendors of advancing day, while tint on tint went Sorting up into the depths of ether, from brightest crimson fading gently 4 ROUGH WEATHER. downward to the lovely violet, and mingling with the azure sky in the faintest tinge of purple ! These ragged caverns of the sky, lighted up with celestial fires, and glowing with every hue reflected light can give — sometimes piercing the entire stratum of vapor, and giving a glimpse of the tathomless sky beyond, seemed like the opening vistas to the realms of life that lie beyond the grave. Head winds baffled us for many days, and beat us into high northern latitudes, where the short winter days were still further contracted; the sun might almost be said to skim the horizon — the pole star of course riding correspondingly high, while rainbows played around us in the showers of noon, and occasionally formed a perfect circle of the most vivid colors, broken only by the shadow of the ship. In these stormy days it is fearfully sublime to stand on the deck and watch the foam-capped waves as they go rolling and rumbling and roaring on in their wild and unfettered career, tossing the mighty vessel as a bubble on their bosom — or, in the evening, when the moon is pouring down its flood of crystal radiance on the world of waters, to see them come up from the dim and misty distance, foaming with white-caps and raging with spray, and go rolling on into darkness and gloom to leeward ; while the terrific force with which they strike our bows sends a quiver from stem to stern, and the spray, borne aloft by the raging winds, dashes over the sails and yards.* The color of the sea in deep water might be described as a jet black, tinged with the deepest indigo, and dashed with the slighest touch of green. Finally the wind veered round in our favor, and continuing very strong, we bounded forward with * The waves do not run in those long unbroken swells which landsmen are apt to imagine, but are piled up in irregular masses, like myriads of hay-cocks floating over a meadow, each retaining its separate form and driven at random among its fellows. In the roughest sea we experienced, the second wave was always visible from our deck over the top of the first, or that next the ship. In calm water our deck stood about twenty feet above the surface of the sea. Hence it would seem the waves do not roll as high as is generally supposed ; and the term mountain waves is a gross exaggeration. HOLYHEAD — PILOT. 5 impetuous speed. As we approached the heights of Holyhead, where the conflicting tides were meeting, as they swept around that rugged headland, the scene became grand beyond description. The sea was raging with fearful violence, and giant waves ever and anon came dashing against our stern, and breaking into a torrent of foam, went plunging along by our side, as it were a perfect cataract of snow, raging and roaring with terrific fury, like a traveling Niagara escorting the old Wyoming. The beautiful green of the water, so totally different from that of the deep sea, resembled the vernal tinge of a vast rolling meadow of waving and luxuriant verdure. The ship labored and struggled in the raging waters — now mounting to the top of a giant wave, our horizon expanded far away in the distance — now plunging down to the bottom of the abyss, our sight was contracted to a span; anon, reeling over, she would tumble headlong into the trough of the sea, and again, for a brief period, steady herself for the conflict with a firm and defiant tread. In the midst of this exciting scene, the bald and hoary cliffs of Holyhead, which we had been anxiously looking for, suddenly loomed up to view, dimly visible in the mists and clouds which enveloped us. What a triumph of mind is here ! That our captain should thus guide his bark from the fathomless wilds of the mid-Atlantic — feeling his way across this waste of waters solely by the magic aid of the compass and the quadrant — should enter the English Channel, course along its winding, narrow route, without once seeing land, and in the midst of cloud, and storm, and fog, and sunken, treacherous rocks, thus run directly to the bold and craggy headland which was to be one of our landmarks — was indeed an exhibition of skill and dexterity that might well command our admiration. We now began to look anxiously for a pilot; but the shades of evening closed around, and no guide made his appearance. A signal light was burned on the forecastle, which flashed up for a few moments in vivid lustre, lighting the deck like a gleam of day, and shedding a radiance far over the boisterous waves. All hands watched 1* 6 LIVERPOOL. with intense anxiety for a reply. A few moments elapsed, when a glare of brilliant light flashed out in the murky darkness — an answering signal from the watchful guide who had beheld and responded to our call. What a moment of relief was that, when at length the pilot came alongside and climbed to our deck ! The next day the shores of old England became visible in the distance, and as we floated up the Mersey, the town of Liverpool was seen on the horizon, lying in a cloud of fog, through which a forest of masts peered upward, giving one the idea of a vast fleet of ships stranded in a fog-bank. How cordially did we greet the welcome sight ! To me it had the double charm of being the harbinger of safety after our weary voyage, and the opening view of that ancient land which had for so many years been tha great object of my curiosity; and many fond dreams of my childhood and youth seemed now about to be realized ! Whilst waiting at the custom house to have my baggage examined, a tinge of gloom stole over me. Glad to find my feet once more on firm ground, I said to myself, And I am at last in England; and the question arose with rather startling energy, And for what purpose am I here ? But the answer was not so vivid. But meeting with a cordial friend among strangers is an excellent antidote for the blues. CHAPTER II. LIVERPOOL — A LETTER FROM HOME — ST. GEORGE'S HALL — NORTH CONCERT ROOM — BIRKENHEAD — ENGLISH AND AMERICAN PATRIOTISM. " Island of bliss! amid the subject seas That thunder round thy rocky coast, * * * *••••* all assaults Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea wave."— Thomson. 'JfjJpFON landing in Liverpool, an American feels al- most as if he had entered another world. The general air of the town is so totally different from that of our American cities, that he feels as if ranging the LETTER FROM HOME. 7 ' thoroughfares of a city of the olden time, that has survived its appropriate age and lingered among the changes of the present, a relic of antiquity mingling with the refinements of an advancing civilization. The massive grandeur of the buildings, the solemn, quaint, peculiar ornaments, the distinctions in society, all combine to impress him with a feeling of singular isolation, and make him realize that he has entered upon a new phase of life. It is a town of splendor and gaudy show, of exquisite taste and incalcu- lable wealth, of architecture the most massive and durable, with more, however, of majesty than grace — more of grandeur than beauty. Here I found a letter awaiting me from home. Would you know the full value of a letter ? Cut yourself loose from your friends and acquaintances, bid adieu to your native shores, roam over the wastes of ocean for weeks, storm-swept and homeless, and finally land in a crowded city, where myriads of people throng around, but not one familiar face wears a smile for you ; and when just recov- ering from the first touch of home-sickness which will probably steal over you, let a stranger step up and care- lessly hand you a letter. You know the hand-writing, a message from a loved one at home. You can not take that letter calmly ; in spite of your puny efforts it is seized with a convulsive grasp; you clutch with affectionate violence the mystic hand thus stretched out to you across the howling waste of ocean, and from that time^feel new life and vigor darting through your frame ; the tie that binds you to your home is not yet wholly severed, but the messages of kind remembrance are wafted to you on the wings of steam, and seek you with unerring certainty amid the countless millions of a foreign land. All hail to our wondrous system of postal arrangements ! It makes man ubiquitous. No corner of the civilized world so remote, no hamlet so secluded, but he can send his paper messengers to speak his will, and breathe his thoughts in friendship's private ear. St. George's Hall is one of the principal buildings of Liverpool. A long'colonnade of Corinthian pillars adorns the eastern front, behind which a magnificent portico gives 8 ST. GEORGE'S HALL— BIRKENHEAD. entrance to the principal hall. In front stretches a spa- cious yard paved with large flags, and surrounded by an iron chain, with openings here and there for entrance, and four massive lions, on heavy pedestals of stone, looking fiercely on the passing crowds, guard these approaches to the noble building. A pediment at one end, surmount- ing a heavy colonnade, bears a large bass-relief, emblematic of the power and prosperity of Britain, and forms a mag- nificent vestibule j while the opposite end of the building projects in a semicircular colonnade supporting a hand- some entablature. The principal hall is a gorgeous apartment. The arched ceiling is richly ornamented by emblazoned shields, deeply sunk panels and gilded stars, and rests on numerous pil- lars of alternate white and clouded marble, behind which deep recesses form convenient niches for statues of many noted men, and other appropriate decorations. The north concert room is a circular apartment, gorgeous with gild- ing and panel work. The ceiling is an immense central star, from which rays of different colors radiate to the circumference ; the intervening spaces richly set with the national emblems — the lion, the rose, and the royal mono- grams. From the centre hangs a glass chandelier encircled with several rings of burners, and the base exhibiting a profusion of prisms and globes, pillars, leaves and wreathes, flashing the most brilliant prismatic hues, and glittering with streams and stars of reflected light. Immediately opposite the hall stands Lime street station, the terminus of the Great Northern Railway. It is a splendid specimen of rail road architecture; a fine Corin- thian front rivals that of St. George's Hall itself, and within, a light and graceful roof, self-supported by a complex system of arches, braces and beams, springs in one wide sweep over the entire area. Close by is the Free Library, where the liberality of a private citizen has thrown open to the use of the public a large collection of books, and an extensive museum of art and natural history. On the opposite side of the Mersey is the town of Birkenhead, where a large park is thrown open to the public; a perfect Eden for retreat from the noise and ENGLISH AND AMERICAN PATRIOTISiM. 9 clatter of the streets. Lovely lakes, and estuaries from the river, with swans playing upon their waters, agreeably diversify the scene, and the wildness of nature is well imitated by artificial hills and rocky defiles, so perfect as to deceive the eye at a careless view ; while thickets of plane wood and evergreens embellish the grounds, and extensive groves are scattered here and there, amid whose branches the birds are twittering cheerily, giving a rural character to the scene that is very refreshing. When in a foreign country a man always loves to talk of home, and will often find himself watching with no small degree of nervous curiosity, the tone and the manner in which his native land is spoken of, and the feelings which are manifested toward his government. New styles of thought, new forms of expression, new trains of feeling are opened to the stranger's observation ; and the basis of attachment to our own country, he soon detects to be different according to the circumstances which surround the human family. While patriotism is, perhaps, a uni- versal sentiment in the mind of man, and the lines of Montgomery — '< There is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; Seek you that land? Know then, where e'er yon roam, That first, best country, ever is at home" — are applicable to as great a variety of men as any other that can be selected, yet we find the grounds of attachment almost equally various, and often the sarcastic repartees that pass from people to people, through the medium of the press, are based in a failure to recognize in each other the essential ingredients of that sentiment which, in some form, is common to the entire race of man. Hence it is that the English and Americans can scarcely understand each other's patriotic feelings. They spring from a different class of emotions, and cluster around different parent stems. Patriotism with us, is emphatically a love of country. At no remote period our fathers settled this virgin soil ; they redeemed it from its native wildness, and clothed it with luxuriant harvests ; they checkered the land with innumerable farms, and dotted it with countless 10 PATRIOTISM. households, where comfort nnd happiness abide, where a man is supreme lord of his little spot of earth, and enjoys the utmost measure of independence consistent with the well-being of society. They fought and fell, that the blessings of freedom might be transmitted to their posterity, and bequeathed to us a legacy of liberty and honor, of which we may well be proud. We feel that our country is peculiarly our own ; and cling to her with all the fond affection of a bridegroom for his youthful bride. With them the case is different. Their patriotism is rather a pride of country. Their history ranges back through centuries of power and glory. Their antique churches, their ruined abbeys, their frowning castles, point backward to a remote antiquity, and form a connecting link between the busy present and the dim and misty past. Their ancestors have lived for ages on the estates of the same line of titled nabobs, and their aristocratic blood flows in unsullied purity through bodies not contaminated with plebeian dross ; and the Englishman retires within himself in sullen pride, and looks around on neighboring nations with the stern and haughty grandeur of his patron lion. His ancestors fought under the banner of an Alfred and an Edward — ours under the banner of Freedom. They established a crushing system of caste, where talent is superseded by title ; we made every man a nobleman, and heir apparent to the throne. KIRKSTAL ABBEY. 11 CHAPTER III. KIRKSTAL ABBEY — CONTRAST OF THE PRESENT AND PAST — VIEW OF THE RUINS FOUNTAINS ABBEY DISTANT VIEW — TRIBUTE TO MODERN IMPROVEMENT — THE LOCO- MOTIVE — EXPRESS TRAIN. IN GREECE. " I do love these ancient ruins ; We never tread upon them, "but we set Our foot upon some reverend history.'' — Webster. " Dark and gloomy shadows fall O'er the ivied abbey wall." — Dyer. the little village of Kirkstal, three miles from Leeds in Yorkshire, stand the ruins of a fine old 'abbey. It is situated in a beautiful green meadow, and is a magnificent relic of the olden time. These abbeys were formerly the residences of the monks, who wielded an unbounded influence over the human mind, hanging like a nightmare on society, sapping its intellec- tual power and palsying all its energies. When Henry VIII. committed the one good act of his reign — freeing his country from the benumbing influence of the Papal tyranny, and abolishing the monasteries which had degenerated, like other institutions of the Roman hierarchy, into festering dens of pollution — the monks were expelled from their livings, and their mighty temples confiscated to the crown and abandoned to solitude and decay. Their leaden roofs were removed, and the mighty walls now rear their -giant forms to the winds and rains of heaven ; the massive pillars and the lofty towers lift up their heads to the open sky, a dense foliage of ivy has usurped the place of the tapestry and gilded orna- ments of former days, and those cloistered aisles and solemn halls that erewhile resounded with the doleful chantings of the monks, are silent and solitary, save when they echo the tread of the curious traveler, or when the joyous bird flits through their noble portals and pours forth its cheerful song. The day was dark and gloomy, and favorable to contemplation. I chanced to be alone amid these deserted ruins, and for some time 'could not even find a guide. 12 VIEW OF THE RUINS. While ruminating on this scene of beautiful desolation, admiring the ever varying perspective of the view as I rambled through those ancient halls, I was aroused by the shrill scream of the locomotive ; and, looking out through the ruined and mouldering arches of centuries long gone by, I saw the steam chariot gracefully gliding along the grassy plain, the pride and wonder of the present age. The contrast startled me. Verily, thought I, the cunning hand of Time, playing with the complex network of human events, is weaving a motley web ; he is mingling the salient points of all ages in beauteous fantastic con- fusion ; the glories of the olden time, the wonders of the stagnant past, are dovetailed into the ever-flowing present, and the growing panorama is ever revealing the mighty achievements, the ceaseless improvements, but not the ultimate capabilities of man. From the grounds on the south a most beautiful view is obtained. The whole mass of ruins swells out in the finest perspective. A profusion of broken walls and crumbling arches, with the large bulk of the main build- ing in the background, gives a most impressive view of the ravages of time. Ten or twelve large trees are growing in the old apartments of the monks, and toss their giant branches in the breeze, as if to tell at once of the frailty and the durability of these proud works of man. The crumbled walls are again crumbling away, and the piles of rubbish mouldering to dust, over which the beautiful but sombre ivy climbs in graceful wreaths, screening the repulsive features of decay with a mantle of living green, and decking with a mimic tracery of life this mass of ruined ruins ruining. While indulging the thoughts which such a scene would naturally excite, a sudden gleam of sunshine broke from behind a parted cloud and streamed through the broken portals and ragged arch-ways, throwing a flood of golden light over the lofty walls and the ivy-mantled tower, bringing out a most en- chanting perspective of light and shade, and revealing a new and enrapturing charm in the mysterious magic of desolation. Fountain's Abbey, near the city of Ripon, is another fountain's abbey. 13 ruin of a similar character. It is situated in a fine park several miles in circuit, through which graveled walks, bordered by shady avenues of trees, lead to places where beautiful views are obtained, and a carriage-way winds around the outskirts of the enclosure, through a treble arbor of fine old English oaks and elms, gnarled and k craggy with age, while a crystal stream sparkles along beneath tufts of verdure, and winds among beds of bril- liant flowers. The ruins stand at the base of a lofty cliff, from the top of which you look down upon a grass-covered valley beneath and the abbey reposing in its bosom, while the lantern tower, with its naked stone walls in perfect preservation, rises far above you, finely contrasting with the luxuriant green of the plain on which the ruins stand. Cautiously descending the cliff, you find yourself sur- rounded by piles of massive masonry, that long centuries ago had fallen into ruin. These colossal relics of a former age, seemingly tottering to their fall, look down upon you with that mystic gaze that inspires a superstitious awe. A sparkling stream runs foaming among the ruins, tumbling over a series of artificial falls, and enlivening the green with its moisture and its music, while the hills on either side are set with trees thickly interspersed with evergreens, and the valley below gradually widens out into a dense grassy sod, till a considerable spur of the hill shoots across its course and sends it sweeping off to the left. Standing on the ancient altar at the eastern end of the church, the beautiful ruin opens out before you in mag- nificent proportions — arches swelling over arches, and pillars receding beyond pillars, till the eye is bewildered with the gaze. At your back rises the grand opening of the eastern window; on either side a Gothic arch of lofty height enters the noble transept ; before you the whole immense area, divided by two rows of grand old pillars into a central nave and two side aisles, stretches away to the further end of the building, where the splendid arch of the western window gives a glimpse of a beautiful landscape beyond through the ancient stone' trellis-work which still retains its place. My guide took me a long walk down the stream, stop- 14 TRIBUTE TO MODERN IMPROVEMENT. ping at intervals to view the landscape j then wound up a hillside, and came to a pretty little house with a double door in front — a thicket of trees on either side totally obscuring the view of the valley below. He bade me stand in a particular place he pointed out, well worn by many feet, then suddenly flinging open the doors, a scene of such enchanting beauty burst upon my view that I involuntarily shouted with wonder. The gray old abbey stood full before me in all its hoary grandeur, mellowed and softened by the distance, and contracted till the eye could take in the whole at a glance, contrasting so finely yet harmonizing so perfectly with the grassy lawn, with the deeper green of the hillsides, and the clear and spark- ling stream, that the picture was perfect in every feature, and the whole scene bordered so nearly on enchantment, that I could scarce believe it real. And here a passing tribute is due to the Genius of modern improvement. A countless throng of inventions, any one of which would serve to illustrate a generation, must be passed over in silence, for ours is emphatically the age of progress ; improvements and discoveries are crowding upon us with such startling rapidity, that we even stand appalled at the wonders of science and art ; and we will choose as their representative the great ultimatum of all, the masterpiece of mechanical ingenuity — the locomo- tive and his wondrous train of cars. If labor is the destiny of America, as our great Webster has said, most nobly is she fulfilling her mission. Xerxes did not level Mount Athos; but the Irishman's drill, his bar and pickaxe, under the direction of Yankee enterprise, have practically leveled the American continent. That haughty monarch did not hew the mountain into a statue of himself, but the Genius of universal improvement hos stamped its impress upon the face of the civilized world. The ancients had their Pegassus, the flying steed of the Muses, but our Fulton, with true Yankee impertinence, captured the fractious deity, and set him to work on our rivers, from whence he was afterward transferred to the land. Scarcely were the heroes of ancient romance transported THE LOCOMOTIVE. 15 with more celerity from place to place by the will of their fanciful genii, than is the man of business or pleasure of the nineteenth century. We have reduced to practice the extravagances of fiction in which our forefathers in- dulged. We have realized the magical tales of yore, and the wildest dreams of centuries long gone by. We mount the steam chariot as the sun declines to rest ; an invisible power hurries us forward ; impenetrable darkness envel- opes us ; we feel a tremor and a slight swaying from side to side, but the eye detects no succession of landscape ; and yet when the morning dawns we find that we have been plunging through the night with fearful velocity. Yes, Pegassus has been caught at last, and partially domesticated : the halter has been thrown over his neck and the bit placed in his mouth, that mortal man may control him in safety. His ethereal limbs have been hampered by material shackles, and while all the fire of his more exalted nature remains, Jie has been doomed to drudgery and toil. He has been harnessed to Brother Jonathan's pleasure cart, where he is restive and uneasy, yet compelled to submit to his master's bidding till the word of command is given, when he prances off proudly and majestically in his harness, " champing his iron curb/' but guided by a steady rein. He thunders rapidly over his iron pathway, ever and anon sending forth his pierc- ing shriek and startling the echoes of the neighboring glens ; now plunging precipitately into the bosom of the earth, he pierces the heart of the everlasting hills, and his iron tread is drowned to a subdued and muffled roar — his breath is stifled, and he labors on in his subterranean career ; and now, rejoicing in his escape from the regions of darkness and gloom, and fluttering his semi-spiritual pinions, he soars to majestic heights and encircles the brow of the mountain ) and anon he descends to the blooming plain in his impatient haste to be gone, speeding rapidly along the awe-stricken valley, and gliding like a fairy being on the margin of the crystal river. The passage of a rail road train at night is to me a sub- limely fearful thought. Familiar as I am with the event, I cannot realize the grandeur of the fact till my ears are 16 EXPRESS TRAIN IN GREECE. arrested with the thrilling sound. Then the bonds of fancy are broken, and the wildest ideas play at random through niy brain, challenging, and yet defying expres- sion ; while the unearthly yell of the steam horse, as it comes crashing on the midnight air, sends a thrill of horror to my heart, and his flashing eye, set in the middle of his forehead, throws a fitful glare in my window that plays for a moment on my paper, and the whole scene reminds me of one of those terrible tales of enchantment that fired the fancy of the middle ages ; or of the advent of that fearful period when all human works shall fall "amid the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds." "What a thrill of emotion beats in my bosom as this spirit of beauty glides by ! I feel myself proudly identi- fied with the loftiest age of man, and can stretch forth my hand in the majesty of science and art and lay it on what part of the world I choose. But Pegassus is past; the thunder of his footstep is dying away; his indignant snort is now scarcely audible ; his fiery breath no longer stifles my struggling lungs; the majesty of his presence no more oppresses me ; and my thoughts are again sinking to a calm repose. I have often thought if one of our splendid trains of the present day had dashed screaming and thundering over the blooming fields of Greece on some balmy vernal morning ; had threaded the streets of Athens, and flashed by the columns of the Parthenon ; had sped through the vale of Tempe, and over the flowery plains of Scio ; then fled from the earth for ages, and been only a myth of the past; what would have been the effect on the Grecian poetry ? How would it have fired the fancy of glorious old Homer ! How would he have strove forever, and yet in vain, to picture to others the sublime concep- tions which this Vision of Wonder would have aroused in his mighty mind ! But our modern Pegassus is fast becoming ubiquitous. Wherever Commerce rattles her sounding wheels, there he is ; no longer the Steed of the Muses but the Genius of Civilization. The echoes of his piercing shriek resound through the valley of the Nile ; they climb to the dizzy YORK. 17 peak of the pyramid of Cheops j they are caught in the sombre aisles" of the columned halls of Karnak* and they mingle with the murmur of the Memnou at old Thebes. His wanderings extend to the deserts of Arabia, and he is again carrying the pillar of cloud by day, and of fire by night, to the land where the Israelites roamed; while the thunder of his iron footsteps rumbles through the rocky defiles of the sacred mount of Sinai, floats along the shores of the coral sea to the plains of Ezion-Geber, and dies away in a doleful sound on the sands of the desolate Edom. CHAPTER IV. YORK MINSTER — INTERIOR — MUSIC — FIVE SISTERS — GREAT HIS- TORIC WINDOW — VIEW FROM TOWER — PROCESSION OF THE JUDGE OF ASSIZES — CITY WALLS — POPULATION OF ENGLAND. " How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, To bear aloft its arched and pondrous roof, By its own weight made steadfast and immovable, Looking tranquility ! It strikes an awe And terror on the aching sight. * * * Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice : * * * My own affrights me with its echoes." — Congreve. )HE city of York, in the north of England, contains about forty thousand inhabitants. Its most Mz prominent feature is the glorious Minster* — a Gothic building of the purest type, dim and dingy with age* The walls are braced by flying buttresses, which fall off in successive steps, and terminate in a perfect wilder- ness of pinnacles rising above the square. Two lofty towers at the western end, and another in the centre constitute, together with the numerous pinnacles, the chief features of the upper outline of the building. The walls are ornamented with a profusion of fanciful statuary of the most grotesque character, occupying niches here *This wonderful church, five hundred and twenty-five feet in length, and the central tower of which rises two hundred* and thirty-six feet high, dates back to the seventh century. 18 YORK MINSTER. and there, projecting fantastically from the eaves, or glaring clown with hideous grin as they start out from the solid wall. They consist of heads of animals and serpents, goblins and griffins, with every conceivable horrid expression ; the human countenance distorted with passion and transformed into the most x frightful fiends ; and the wildest ideals of terror and dread are embodied in the odd and quaint decorations of this noble church. The imposing effect produced by the disposition and pro- portion of the different parts ; the greatness of the design, where the strictest unity is maintained, the noble portals, the trellised window arches, and the general air of an- tiquity, make it one of the most grand and magnificent buildings in England. On entering for the first time, the stranger is bewildered with the grandeur of the scene. The giant columns and lofty arches, the gorgeous choir and the resplendent windows flashing with many-tinted glass, almost overpower the mind; while above you swells a misty opening, floating upward in the central tower, as though it would fathom the skies. I sat down amid the crowd and gave full scope to my admiration. While the congregation were sitting in silence, the old church bell on the top of the. tower struck the hour of eleven, and the sounds, mellowed and softened by the reverberations, till the strokes were scarcely audible, went floating away through those glorious halls like the music of fairy land. When the organ struck up its swelling notes, and the voices joined in the hymn, the volume of sound went sweeping along till the old church rang again, and the echoes played through the arches and aisles, as the anthem rose and fell, and died away at each measured close, in a sweetly linger- ing strain. On every side the most gorgeous windows surrounded me, through whose stained glass of every hue the sunlight streamed in a flood of subdued and softened radiance, filling the interior with that " dim religious light" so perfectly in harmony with the design of a cathedral. .One especially, on the south side, called the Five Sisters, a window over fifty feet in height, in five equal divisions, PROCESSION OF THE JUDGE. 19 is decorated with historic scenes in colored glass; and a large circular window over the northern entrance, present- ing a complicated system of scroll work, are among the prominent features of this church that impart to it a brilliancy and a glory that well sustain its high reputation. But the crowning glory of the whole is the magnificent western window, seventy-five feet in height and thirty- two wide ; a Gothic arch filled with a most elaborate system of trellis work, in the interstices of which is a complete hieroglyphic history of the church in designs in stained glass, from the creation to the end of the fourteenth century. It is protected on the outside by a screen 01 strong wire. This is one of the finest windows in exist- ence. But one other equals it — in one of the old cathedrals of the continent. After the service closed, I lingered long in the beautiful nave, and then climbed to the top of the tower. It was a tedious and tiresome task, but the extensive prospect well repaid the labor. The city of York was clustered close around my feet, a wide expanse of open country stretched far away on every side, over which the rail road trains went speeding their way in every direction, and the rivers Ouse and Foss glittered in the sunlight, as they pursued their winding course to the sea. The procession of the Supreme Judge of Assize to attend church, according to the ancient forms of the city of York, is an interesting ceremony. For some years thoughts have been entertained of abandoning it as a worn out vestige of the past; but the Queen requested that it be continued on account of its high antiquity, and her request in a ease like this, is law to her loving subjects. The procession at this time consisted of first, eleven pike- men dressed in the uniform of the high sheriff of York. The pikes are about seven feet long, and shaped like an Indian tomahawk, except that the poll is pointed and turns backward, and a long blade projects in front. Be- hind these marched the musicians, with brass instruments, playing the national airs. Then came the judge's car- riage drawn by two beautiful dapple brown horses. The car- riage was of a brilliant azure blue, richly ornamented ; and 20 POPULATION OF ENGLAND. coachmen, footmen and pages were in most costly livery. The judge, dressed in his gown and wig, with a sash of red and black silk, entered to the music of the band : the high sheriff and under sheriff accompanied him, and sat uncovered ; when the procession moved off to the Minster and the band played while they entered. But here is another interesting antiquity. York was formerly a "fenced city/' and the walls are still nearly perfect, varying perhaps from eight to twenty feet high, according to the ground. They are about seven feet thick, with a foot-walk on top, the outer edge of the wail projecting high enough, however, to protect a person from the arrows of the attacking force. Loop-holes are fre- quent, and the triangular capstones are here and there omitted to allow the defenders to shoot without being too much exposed. Watch-houses occur at intervals in the base of the walls, with loop-holes for the lookout. These walls are preserved with great care, as mementoes of a high antiquity. The population of England is enormous. In area it is but little larger than the State of New York, and it con- tains about as many inhabitants as all our free States. It would be rather a startling idea to Americans to have an elastic band stretched around all our northern States, including California and Oregon, and then let it contract, keeping all our teeming myriads of people within its diminishing enclosure, till we were all cooped up in the Empire State ; yet in this case we would be no more thickly settled than is the little territory of England at the present time. Hence large towns are very numerous ; towns which with us would be large cities. In many parts, of the country it is nothing uncommon to have two, three, or even four in view at one time. Everywhere the land is cultivated to the highest degree, wherever the nobility condescend to throw it open to the poor, and if Goldsmith's lines relate a historic fact when he says, "A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintained its man," there could scarcely have been a heavier tax levied on the natural fertility of the soil than is now extracted from it LONDON. 21 by the labor of her toiling peasantry. Hence it will readily be conceded that England is not a self-supporting country. Her teeming millions are dependent on foreign labor, and to a very great extent on America, for bread. By a singular defect in her social policy, to which perhaps she was driven by her overflowing population, she is so completely dependent on foreign aid, that were she to become involved in a general war, and her commerce to be temporarily checked, or were her ports effectually blockaded for a single month, starvation would stare her full in the face. Hence with her it is a matter of absolute necessity to maintain her power at sea. It is her only safeguard. Without this her boasted empire would van- ish, and her imperious pride would fall. CHAPTER V. LONDON — A WORLD IN MINIATURE — MOTLEY TIIRONG IN HER STREETS — PUBLIC WORKS — GREAT FEATURES — ARRIVAL — ST. PAUL'S BY LAMPLIGHT — CLASSIC GROUND. " ' Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat To peep at such a world: to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd; To hear the roar she 6ends through all her gates At a sale distance, where the dying sound Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear." — Coioper. ^UT the glory of England is her capital. Would las y ou f° rm an i^ ea °f London ? As well might you attempt to grasp the majesty of Mont Blanc. It contains three millions of people. Three millions of people ! It is easy to set this down in figures ; you can tell it over in words; you can repeat and re-repeat it, with all the marvelous intonations of inflection and em- phasis; and every time you dwell upon its mighty sum your ideas will expand, your conceptions will enlarge till you have at last acquired the power of picturing to your fancy a faiut image of a great city, and there you must forever stop ; you can never mount up to the full grandeur of your theme. I care not how familiar you may be with 22 A WORLD IN MINIATURE. her streets, or bow long you may have loitered in her halls of science and art ; I care not how often you may have surveyed the wondrous scene from the golden ball on the top of St. Paul's, or how often you may have lingered amid the ceaseless throng that hurries over Lon- don Bridge ; your conceptions of the real grandeur and sublimity of London must forever remain inadequate. It may assist us a little in forming an approximate idea of this exceeding great city, to reflect that her population is equal to that of Ohio, and if the people of that great State were all crowded together in Cincinnati, they could only reproduce a London. Its compactly built portions and its extensive parks, cover a solid area of more than twenty-five" square miles; while a much larger additional space- is covered by the suburbs, including some open country and neighboring pleasure grounds, making per- haps as much as thirty-six square miles of solid buildings, including the principal parks and the water surface of the •Thames. By the assistance of such statistics as these, the understanding may perhaps be enabled to comprehend what the fancy will ever vainly endeavor to realize. London is a world in miniature. Wh atever the mind of man admires in the productions of art or the revela- tions of science, is here presented to his view. Whatever phase human nature assumes in its moral or its intellectual development, is found amid her countless throngs. Here the Alpine peaks of Intellect are gilded by the sunlight of transcendent genius, while at their feet stretch wide Saharas of ignorance and degradation j here the pious and virtuous glory in the light of true religion, and build their faith upon the Bock of Ages, while countless myriads welter in the dark fens of pollution and the murkj^ bogs of profanity ; here are found the steppes of a cold and lifeless formality, where rank and riches contend in a ceaseless struggle for precedence and priority ; here expand the verdant meadows, and the rolling prairies of the middle ranks of life, where sparkling streams of humor and good fellowship wind among the choicest flowers of intellect, and the blooming gardens of contentment and social equality : and here again is the Dismal Swamp of CROWDED STREETS. 23 Sorrow. The world knows no achievement of art, no refinement of science, which is not at once transmitted to this social centre ; every thought that agitates the mind, every sensation that quivers the nerves Of humanity, is at once transmitted to London, as the heart of the civilized world. Her streets of palaces, where flutter the gilded moths of fashion; her thronging business marts, where the clang of commerce and the rush of anxious crowds are fearful and incessant ; her narrow, filthy, crooked lanes, where poverty and crime reside j her stately temples, dedicated to religion or art, to science or legislation j her expansive parks, where you can almost lose yourself in rural seclusion j her turbid Thames, where floats the flag of every nation under heaven, are essential elements in a crude conception of London. Through her streets flows a motley crowd of human life. Here a gay young belle, the pet of pride and fashion, dashes along in her chariot, with a smile of contempt or a frown of scorn for the race of man in general ; here the stately nobleman makes a pompous display of his dignity and his wealth ; the industrious merchant hurries forward, absorbed in his own reflections; the cool observer leisurely saunters along, surveying the scene with calm but absorbing interest; the patient laborer plods his weary way with heavy steps, or pursues contentedly his daily toil ; while crowds of hungry beggars assail you, from the lisping child who is thoroughly schooled in crime, to the wretched old crone of three score years and ten, tottering along on her staff, and asking for a ha'-penny, familiarly coupling the Sacred Name with the pitiable and yet impudent petition ; and the guar- dian genius of society — the ever-present policeman, with his staff of ofl&ce and his uniform of blue — ever mingles with the surging throng, to protect the peaceful traveler by the aggis of the law, and guide the bewildered stranger through the solitudes of this vast city. The Public Works of London are on a scale of grandeur and magnificence unequaled in the world. Take one item of her statistics, based upon figures, which, it is said, cannot lie. According to the official reports of the proper author- 24 PUBLIC WORKS. ities, the gas companies of tins enormous city have twenty- four thousand miles of pipe ; hence, in theory, they could supply the whole of New Zealand with light from their present location; could send a jet to Australia, and another to Cape Horn ) and the water companies could turn a jet of water on each flame and extinguish it. And on such a scale are the works of London ! Her libraries number millions upon millions of volumes ; her scholars acknowledge no superiors ; subterranean railways are tunneled for miles under her crowded thoroughfares ; Astronomy would lose absolutely nothing if every other record in the world were destroyed, if only the vast reposi- tories of Greenwich Observatory were preserved ; St. Paul's and the Parliament Houses are among the glories of modern architecture, as Westminster Abbey is of the antique ; her wonderful Palace of iron and glass seems like the crystal- lization of a poet's^vision; while in the British Museum are contributions from every department of science, dona- tions from the combined talent of mankind, and treasures from all ages of the world ) fragments from Babylon that date back twenty-three centuries before Christ; and mummies, for aught we know, of those who were slain in that fearful night when the dread angel of Death passed through the streets of the rebellious cities, and cut off in his anger all the first-born of Egypt. It was late in the evening when we landed, and the realities of London life first opened upon me by lamp- light, in a dim and misty night. I pressed through the crowd that thronged around the station, and plunged all friendless and alone into that surging tide of human life, that incessantly goes eddying in giddy whirls through Fleet street and the Strand. And I am at last in London ! Its wonders of nature and art are no longer looming up in delusive perspective in the dim and distant Orient. The ideals of beauty that have floated through the master minds of the world, and have sprung into form and substance by their magic touch, are now within my grasp, and the glowing visions of childhood are about to be realized. Having secured lodgings, and finding myself near St. Paul's ; I could not ST. PAUL'S BY LAMPLIGHT. 25 rest without seeing it, but started out again to taste the rapture of a first glimpse of this wondrous temple. Never did I feel myself on classic ground till the long line of Fleet street opened up before me with its stately buildings, its hoards of untold wealth, its giddy whirl of business and pleasure, its sacred memories and historic associations. Passing down Fleet street and up Ludgate Hill, the giant bulk of St. Paul's rose dim and indistinct like a vast shadowy pyramid in the misty gloom of night. I walked around the mighty fabric, which the feeble glare of the lamps rendered dimly visible, but the mighty dome swelled upward far beyond the reach of the faint illumination, and I gazed up into the blackness of night, vainly endeav- oring to catch an outline of its giant proportions. I then retraced my steps, visited Temple Bar, passed through its ancient arch, and walked the length of the Strand to Charing Cross, where stands a proud monument to Nelson ; then back weary and exhausted to my lodgings. I can scarcely realize that I have walked the length of Fleet street and the Strand ; that I have visited Temple Bar and Charing Cross ; that St. Paul's has blessed my outward vision, as it has long been burned upon my mental eye ; and that Westminster Abbey, the British Museum, and the Crystal Palace, are at last clustered around me, offering a rich reward for my wild and wayward wanderings. CHAPTER VI. 8T. paul's — exterior — wren's triumph — interior — dome — ■ REQUIEM FOR PRINCE ALBERT WHISPERING GALLERY — VIEW FROM GOLDEN GALLERY — IN THE BALL — CRYPT. * * " That wondrous dome, To which Diana's Temple was a cell." — Byron. §T. PAUL'S is the chief architectural feature of London. This glorious church, with its enor- mous dome, is the most prominent object in every distant view of the city. It occupies a central position o 26 ST. PAUL'S. on somewhat elevated ground, and is seen to great advantage from a distance, rising amid a wilderness of spires, far above every other object • but, unfortunately, hemmed in by buildings encroaching on the surrounding space, so that from no one point can the whole church be seen to advantage. The walls are ornamented by two series of columns in relief, the lower of the Corinthian, the upper of the Composite order. The entablatures are massive and elegant. A projecting portico, with a heavy colonnade of pillars sweeping around it, stands at the entrance of the south transept. A high arch is thrown over the door- way, on the keystone of which is a phoenix, with the motto in Latin: "I shall rise again." The history of this stone is somewhat singular. St. Paul's was burned in the Great Fire of London in 1666, and while clearing away the rubbish for the foundation of the present structure, one of the master workmen selected a stone to draw a design upon, and on raising it, found it to be a keystone of one of the large arches, inscribed with the above figure and motto. This was reckoned an omen of the glory of the future church, and the stone was reserved to crown the arch of the principal entrance. Two lofty towers rise from the western end of the building, in one of which is the clock, with the great bell weighing five tons, which strikes the hours, and is tolled at the death of a member of the Royal family, or the Archbishop of Canterbury alone. Statues of the Apostles are placed on the western extremity of the roof, with St. Paul on the comb, and numerous pieces of statuary occupy niches in every part of the external walls. A colossal statue of Queen Elizabeth stands in the western yard, and the church is surrounded by a heavy iron palisade. The present building, 1 " which is of purely Grecian architecture, was erected by Sir Christopher Wren, who *The church is five hundred feet in length. The dome rises about three hundred and sixty feet, above which four iron pillars support a gilt ball eight feet in diameter, surmounted by a gilt cross fifteen feet high, making the entire height from basement four hundred and four feet. It was finished in 1710. INTERIOR. Si enjoyed the rare distinction of having planned and completed, from alpha to omega, one of the proudest temples of the world. He lived to see the mighty fabric rise to its perfect form ; through thirty-five years of unremitting toil, he saw the wondrous dome swell to its full proportions, all the minutiae of ornament fully developed, and every part harmonizing together in one great and perfect whole ; and, having thus realized the brilliant ideals of his prolific mind, he attended the daily services in his church for thirteen years, and died at the age of ninety-one. Pie lies in his own chosen resting place, under the aisle at the south side of the choir — his tomb a plain marble slab with a simple inscription, also of his own design. Many years after Dr. Johnson wrote his epitaph, remarkable for its simplicity, and for the appropriate tribute which it pays to the memory of the departed : *' Beneath your feet lies Sir Christopher Wren. Reader, if you would behold his monument, look around you ! » The interior is glorious ! and the first glance of its majesty, its grandeur, and its beauty, is totally over- powering. I stood beneath that mighty dome — the pride and wonder of the modern world, swelling out to such vast proportions, yet floating as light as a bubble in the misty expanse above me — so ethereal, fantastic and airy, with its grand old paintings in fresco, and its ornaments of burnished gold j and as I gazed up into its beautiful orb, my thoughts went roaming back, away through the long vista of years, illumined with the sunny memories of childhood's Elysian dreams, to the familiar scenes of home, where the fires of youthful enthusiasm and boyish wonder burned and glowed within me as I read the enchanting stories of London and St. Paul's. Massive pillars rise on either hand, from which spring light and graceful Roman arches, supporting the immense weight of the dome. The ceiling is one wide arch spanning the entire nave, and adorned by large circles of gilded wreaths, enclosing elegant ornaments in painting and gold. Many monuments are placed in different parts 28 DOME. of the church, mostly to noted warriors — a very fine statue of Dr. Johnson stands by one of the pillars that support the dome, and two most beautiful angels, reclining their heads against their wings, on either side of one of the entrance doors. But the dome is the great feature of this proud edifice. The inside diameter of the base is one hundred and forty feet, and the crown of the arch rises two hundred and fifty feet above the floor. It is divided into eight compartments, by borders representing pillars painted on its inner surface, each containing a large painting in fresco, representing a scene in the life of St. Paul — his conversion, his shipwreck, shaking the viper in the fire, preaching at Athens, &c. In the centre a large opening, surrounded by an ornamental railing, lets down a flood of light from the smaller dome or lantern above. The inner surface of this lantern is also elegantly painted and gilded, and wreaths are flung from side to side, which greatly increase the beauty of the scene. Verily the dome of St. Paul's is a master-piece. The perfection of its finish may challenge the closest scrutiny, and the grandeur of its conception leaves nothing to desire. At the close of the sermon the magnificent organ played a requiem for Prince Albert, and so mournful was the strain, that it seemed to infuse a sadness into every breast ; while the low, deep, solemn bass, went rolling through the crypt beneath our feet, like the heavy rumble of distant *hunder, and it seemed the very echo of a nation's groans. jlh3n the tune rose to a lighter air, and spoke of religious hope and the life beyond the grave ; while still that low, deep bass kept rumbling on, mingling the regrets of mor- tality with the hopes" of the immortal; and ended in a swelling note of praise, and one long, deep, final burst of that mournful tone, that seemed to shake the very founda- tions of the church, and then went rolling and reverbe- rating through the arches on high, like the lingering notes of woe that rang through the mountains of Jewry, when the curse was pronounced on her favorite city — a requiem fit to be sung for the slain at the battle of Armageddon. The efi'ect of that solemn bass was wonderful. An GALLERIES. 2 ( J awful peal of the heaviest sound would come bursting forth from the organ pipes, would ring through the lofty ceiling and play from aisle to aisle, and then for a moment was lost ; but the sound was caught in the vaulted dome, and sent crashing down with tremendous force, and the building quivered to its power. t A spiral flight of steps of very gradual ascent leads up to the whispering gallery at the base of the dome. This is merely the smoothly plastered curved surface, which carries the lowest whisper, if uttered with the mouth close to the wall, around the entire circumference, so it can be distinctly heard on the opposite side. Here a walk extends around the dome, protected by a railing, from whence the view is very' fine. You look down upon the Mosaic pavement of the church a hundred feet below you, where people, seemingly no larger than children, are passing to and fro, while you are brought nearer to the convex vault above; the paintings blaze forth in all their splendor, and the subdued light, presenting no strong contrasts of light and shade, yet bringing out every object in distinct relief, perhaps reveals one of the finest views which the genius of man has wrought. The stone gallery is a walk around the outside of the base of the dome ; but we will not linger here, splendid as is the view it presents : up, up, up we climb to the G-olden Gallery around the summit of the main dome, or base of the lantern, and now,, as we emerge from the narrow stairway up which we have been laboring, and step out on a fine circular gallery, protected by a stone railing, what a prospect bursts upon the view ! From this dizzy height we look down upon the myriads of people thronging through the streets beneath us, reduced to mere pigmies in size ; we survey the labyrinth of streets brauching off from this great centre ; we look down upon the loftiest steeples ; the habitations of millions of human beings are clustered beneath our feet; the Crystal Palace sparkles on the outskirts of the city like a vision of lovety enchant- ment; old father Thames comes sweeping down from beneath a misty cloud, and is again lost in the fogs and vapors of London, like the stream in the vision of Mirza; 8* 30 CRYPT. wo look down upon London Bridge, over which a ceaseless tide of human life is eternally hurrying on ; we survey the old historic Tower, whose walls are dim and diDgy with age, but radiant with the glory of the past j and we feel that the scene before us is one on which the greatest of men would be proud to gaze. But let us clamber up another*, hundred feet and enter the golden ball on the top of the lantern ; we must now climb by ladders, for at this height even the dome of St. Paul's is diminished to a moderate size; they finally become absolutely perpendicular, and at last we must squeeze our way between the iron pillars that support the ball. But we enter the circular apartment, where eight men would find close quarters, and at this sublime height of nearly four hundred feet above the ground, all is darkness and gloom — no windows, no loop-holes for a peep of the land- scape ; we have the honor for our pains. However, just below the ball a good view is obtained, but we are not so much at our ease, and see but little more than from the Golden Gallery. In the basement is the crypt, where repose the remains of many great men. Sir Christopher Wren lies under the south side of the choir ; at his feet lie the remains of his grand-daughter, who died in 1851, aged ninety-three. At his side, just beyond the iron railing enclosing his grave, lies Benjamin West — a painter-prince of whom America is proud. Sir Joshua Reynolds lies at West's feet, and a little to the left are the graves of Turner and Opie. The Duke of Wellington lies exactly under the centre of the dome, in a splendid marble sarcophagus, and Lord Nelson a short distance from him. The former church was so completely consumed in the great fire that the only relics are eight mutilated antique statues, said to be the father and mother of Sir Francis Bacon, Dr. Donne, and some other notables. The foundations are sunk six- teen feet below the basement floor into the solid earth. It is twenty feet from the basement to the main floor of the church above, and the whole number of steps leading up to the ball is five hundred and thirty-four. CRYSTAL PALACE. 31 CHAPTER VII. THE CRYSTAL PALACE — THE PARK — GEOLOGIC ISLANDS — ENTRANCE OP THE NAVE ANCIENT COURTS — COURT OF THE ALHAMBRA HALL OP THE ABINCERIGES — VIEW PROM THE TOP OF THE TOWER — VIEW IN THE EVENING TWILIGHT — VIEW BY MOONLIGHT. " No forest fell When thou wast built ; no quarry sent its stores T enrich thy walls; * * * * a wat'ry light Gleam'd through the clear transparency, that seemed Another moon new risen, or meteor fall'n From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene. " — Ccnoper. [pj)HE Crystal Palace* at Sydenham, a few miles from London Bridge, is fairly entitled to be considered J£k one of the wonders of the world. It stands in a beautiful park on a rising ground, from which a fine view is obtained of Surrey and Kent on the one hand, and on the other of the city of London. The wonderful Palace crowns the summit of the hill. No description can convey an adequate idea of its beauty ! Composed entirely of iron and glass, and adorned with the most elaborate decorations of architecture, it must be seen to be realized. The main building, including two wings which project to the south, is over half a mile in length. It is crossed by three transepts, each rising in front in a high l\oman arch, from the centre of which the iron stays radiate to the circumference, forming a complicated trellis work. The entire building is an open frame work, or, in * The following statistics are collected from the guide books : The Park contains 300 acres. Length of main building, 1,608 feet ; each wing, 574 feet ; colonnade leading from the railway station, 720 feet; total length,. 3,476 feet, or only 484 feet less than three-fourths of a mile, covered with glass. Length of central transept, 384 feet — each of the others, 336 feet. The central one is 120 feet wide, and 208 feet high from garden in front. From the floor, 108 feet to the springing of the arch of the central transept, which rises 60 feet high. Nave, 72 feet wide ; area of ground floor, 598,396 square feet. Total length of columns, 16|- miles ; weight of iron, 9,641 tons ; area of glass, 25 acres ; length of paves, 242 miles ; bolts and rivets, 175 tons; nails, 103 tons ; brick base, 15,391 yards, colonnade not included. a'2 PARK. domestic language, sash of iron, filled with glass. Near each end of the building rises a circular crystal tower over two hundred feet in height. Conceive an immense bubble, blown up to giant proportions, and bound by innumerable filaments of black into an elongated form, and you have as correct an idea of the Crystal Palace as lies in my power to give you. The park in which the Palace stands is adorned with the most profuse decorations. In front a wide terrace is laid out in flower beds and gravel walks, interspersed with numerous pieces of statuary, and bordered along its outer limit with an iron railing on a wail which rises from the ground below. From this terrace a noble flight of steps leads down to the general slope of the park, where another large area is occupied with flower beds and gravel walks, fountains and waterfalls, and a profusion of statues, vases and urns. Here are several rosaries and green houses of the lightest and most airy construction ; arbors over which creeping plants weave a drapery of Nature's own handi- work; extensive beds blooming with the most brilliant rhododendrons, and comfortable seats disposed along the walks or nestled in shady nooks, where you can sit at ease and eDJoy the glories of the wondrous scene. Farther to the south the ground falls off to a rivulet that winds through the edge of the park, on the steep banks of which are arranged a series of artificial strata representing geologic formations of almost every character, and a lead mine is formed with blocks of rough stone, with the ore arranged in its natural state, through which you can pass beneath a rough, shaggy arch, with barely enough light to render the beautiful formations visible In another place, on the banks of the stream, and on islands which its waters surround, are sculptures as large as life, of the huge monsters of the pre- Adamite world, arranged as nearly as possible in the natural circumstances of that mystic period. • Upon landing at the Crystal Palace station, we mount a flight of steps, and enter the colonnade which leads up to the western wing. It rises a considerable grade, with frequent flights of steps, and presents nothing but an INTERIOR. 33 empty blank interior till you enter the wing of the main building, which is mostly occupied with refreshment rooms. Gaudy advertisements are flaunted in your face, and you are greeted with the odor of culinary processes ; but the grandeur of the structure begins to open upon you — through the crystal walls you catch a nearer and nearer view of the mighty building, stretching away to the right, with its beauteous and airy perspective, till you finally pass through a simple doorway, and are ushered into the wondrous nave, where the glorious prospect bursts upon you with startling effect, and the glowing ideals which you have been picturing to yourself in the fervor of expectation, are now abundantly realized. In the centre of the nave just before you, is a large screen with plaster figures of all the sovereigns of England, in front of which is a colossal equestrian statue of Victoria, looking on the wonderful prospect. Taking your stand by her side, and looking down the vast expanse, you have perhaps as magnificent a view as the architecture of any age has presented. In front of you a complex net-work of beams, pillars and arches, mingling in intricate figures, as the perspective recedes in the distance, stretches away in bewildering beauty, and an exquisite glass fountain throws out its copious streams in a large marble basin bordered with a forest of tropical plants, among which hundreds of pieces of statuary are standing in quiet recesses, or arranged in picturesque groups, while the beautiful birds that flit from branch to branch, and make the palace ring again with their light and joyous songs, add a charm to this scene of trans- cendent beauty, which the world of art has not exceeded. Among the most attractive objects, is a series of courts or apartments, with restorations of the architecture of different ages and nations ; the court being fitted up in the general style of the age and place it is intended to represent, and adorned with appropriate ornaments. In the Grecian oourt, for instance, is a dwelling house of one of the better class of the people, and an apartment of one of their temples ; with a public square adorned with casts of Grecian statuary. The Roman and Byzantine 84 HALL OF THE ABENCERIGE3. courts are similarly arranged ; while in the Egyptian court is the Hall of Columns from the great temple of Karnak, an exact reproduction of the original on a somewhat reduced scale. An Assyrian temple restored by Layard, with the winged bulls and other uncouth ornaments of that singular people ; columns whose capitals are the heads and shoulders of two bulls looking in opposite directions, with their fore legs doubled under them, and other grotesque decorations, seem to carry the spectator back beyond the ken of imagination, and place him among the strange realities and the incipient civilization of* that early day. Tn another court is a restoration of a dwelling-, house from Pompeii, whilst in front of the Nubian court are two statues of Kemeses the Great from his temple at Aboo Simbel, in a sitting posture, sixty-five feet high; exact copies of the original. But one of the most attractive scenes is a reproduction of several apartments of the Alhambra. The Hall of Justice is most beautifully ornamented with exquisite figures of filigree work, fanciful designs on the walls and ceiling, and large beds of flowers occupying a portion of the area. The Court of Lions is so named from a circular fountain in the centre, supported by eight lions, around which is a bed of flowers. This, however, is surely a pretty free license under the Koran, as a tenet of the Saracen creed forbids the use of images, even of animals. A corridor runs round the court, supported by a number of gilt pillars of light and graceful form. But the m.ost gorgeous apartment is the Hall of the Abenceriges. This room is perhaps twenty feet square, (two-thirds the size of the original), paved with white marble, with a circular fountain in the centre. The walls are set with alternate diamonds of white and black marble, to the height of five feet, "above which a zone of Arabic inscriptions, about six inches wide, encircles the room, and above this the most exquisite filigree work, representing fruits, flowers, vines and leaves, in natural colors, completes the walls. The ceiliug or roof is in the form of a high conical tent, hung with stalactites, which are colored with the most brilliant hues, blue, yellow, red, purple and gold. VIEW OF THE CITY. 35 The only light admitted to this lovely hall, except that which flows through the entrance archways, is by four .small circular windows of deeply stained glass, placed near the apex of the cone. The effect is most exceedingly fine. The softened radiance which pours through these narrow openings is caught in that magic cone, and reflected from side to side, playing through the fciry vistas of that rainbow-tinted hall, and catching new glory from each successive reflection, as it imbibes the mingled tints of the numerous stalactites, and is thrown down to the eye of the beholder in a flood of transcendent beauty. Another apartment with a stalactite roof of pure milky white, is singularly chaste and beautiful. If such is the Alhambra, it is glorious ! In one of the transepts stands a fine specimen of the mammoth tree of California — merely the bark stripped from the trunk, and arranged around a frame of the proper size. The section is about one hundred feet high, and twenty-two in diameter at the base, diminishing but little to the top. From the summit of the eastern tower I had a most delightful view of the extensive gardens and park, with the Geologic Islands in the distance. The gardens were peculiarly beautiful, glowing with innumerable rhododen- drons, scattered here and there, or clustered in thick and fragrant beds, intermingled with flowers of every hue and trees of luxuriant verdure. In the distance the great gloomy city of London lay beneath a canopy of its own mists and vapors ; the mighty dome of St. Paul's swelling up above the fog, and the ball and cross glittering in unclouded sunshine; a hundred steeples rising from the semi-Christian city, and the country blooming with the freshness and verdure of spring. I descended and strolled again through the winding galleries and along the spacious nave. An apartment is appropriated to tropical plants : here is a forest of palms and bananas and other trees of the torrid zone ; and here the Victoria Regia blooms in its native glory. I lingered long in the Court of the Alhambra, and my fancy has clung to the Hall of the Abenceriges, fit to be the hall of 36 ENCHANTING SCENE. the Fairies — so light, so elegant, so graceful, with its transcendent brilliancy of colors, and the mellowed mingling of different shades, as the most beautiful scene, in this gorgeous Palace of a world's wonders. In the evening twilight, when the glare of the sun was gone, and the fading lights mellowed the contrasts, the airy and gossamer-like effect of the vast labyrinth of lattice-work was beautiful beyond description. The strong shades and brilliant glare of sunlight, melting into the sombre tints and more uniform hues of evening, gradually mingled the varied objects both in color and outline, till the fancy had to come to the aid of the vision to trace the uncertain forms, and the distant parts of the crystal temple were totally lost to the view. And then the scene by moonlight from the extensive grounds in front of the Palace was near akin to enchant- ment ! The mighty fabric of wire-bound crystal, floating upward in the wavering light like a vision of life to a youthful mind, dim, misty, and evanescent, as though the Fairies were building a Bower of Bliss with the straggling beams of the moon, — seemed a realization of that glorious temple which Ezekiel saw with prophetic eye, or a mid- night dream of the Muses' bowers on the top of old Parnassus, that allures us with its delusive forms of fleeting and fantastic beauty, which we half expect will vanish away when the beams of the morning play upon it, or dissolve in the purple-tinctured air, when " a change comes o'er the spirit of our dream ! " BRITISH MUSEUM. 87 CHAPTER VIII. THE BRITISH MUSEUM — LIBRARIES — MANUSCRIPTS — READING ROOM GEOLOGIC OR NORTH GALLERY HUMMING BIRDS AND BIRDS OF PARADISE ZOOLOGICAL MONSTERS ANTIQUITIES ELGIN MARBLES — EGYPTIAN GALLERY — ASSYRIAN GALLERY — A VOICK FROM THE PAST. Golconda's wealth is here enshrined ; The treasury of a world. "They are the Registers, the chroniclers of the age They were made in, and speak the truth of history Better than a hundred of your printed Communications. "—Shakerly. » ,jHE British Museum is one of the crowning glories of London. It is on a most gigantic scale — a wealth of entertainment and instruction, without a rival in the world. The building is of stone, with a heavy Ionic portico, and a magnificent flight of steps leads up to the noble entrance. It is a hollow square, with two exhibition floors, and several rooms in the basement. In the quadrangle in the centre of the building is the new Reading Room, for the convenience of the public in con- sulting the immense libraries. The Museum is a vast collection of treasures from the wide domain of nature, and the fruitful fountains of science and art, whose riches have been made tributary to this vast magazine of the curious and the wonderful, through whose spacious halls my fancy has restlessly wandered even from the early days of childhood. Upon entering this noble building, we find ourselves in a spacious vestibule with a lofty ceiling. At our left hand is a splendid stairway leading to the floor above ; but we will turn to the right, and passing through a lofty door, beside which stands a statue of Shakspeare in white marble, we enter the great Library, which is contained in the rooms on the ground-floor of the south-eastern portion of the building. Through this series of rooms of hundreds of feet in length, we pass amid thousands of volumes arranged on the shelves, and many of the more interesting 4 38 BRITISH MUSEUM. are exhibited in glass cases on centre tables. Amid this vast collection are some works of priceless value. A copy of the Codex Alexandrinus, containing the Greek text of the Holy Scriptures, written on very thin vellum, probably at the commencement of the fifth century, is of course preserved with the most extreme care. It can be examined only by special order from the chief librarian, and one of the attendants invariably sits by to see that no altera- tion is made in the text, which could easily be done, so as to obscure or change the meaning of particular passages. It is kept in a glass case, where all can see it, but none can handle without permission. There is a large, double roll, eighty-nine feet in length and twenty-six inches wide, containing the Pentateuch, written on goat skins, and mounted on rollers, probably dating back to the fourteenth century j also a copy in seven large volumes of the Koran in Arabic, written throughout in gold, with illuminated frontispiece, dating from 1305-6. These, with many others, are kept in glass cases, open to the view of all, but beyond the reach of any. The manuscript department is rich in literary curiosities, autographs of the world's great departed, deeds of king- doms and charters of cities of great antiquity and inesti- mable value, and fragments of the original manuscripts of works which the world has read. Here is the great Magna Charta — the guarantee of the liberties of England against the aggressions of an ambitious sovereign, extorted from King John by the twelve barons at Runnymede, on the 15th of June, 1215. It has been damaged by fire, and is almost illegible. A fragment of the great seal remains attached. But the manuscript to which perhaps the student looks with the most reverence, is the article of agreement between John Milton and Samuel Symes, for the sale of " a poem entitled Paradise Lost," dated 27th of April, 1667. It has the poet's signature, with his seal of arms attached. Here is an autograph of Shakspeare, to an indenture granting a lease of a dwelling-house in Stratford- on-Avon. It was found some years ago among a mass of old waste papers, and was sold at auction. The Museum LIBRARY. 89 bought it for two hundred guineas ($1,016.00). Here are letters and manuscripts in the hand-writing of Ariosto, Tasso, Luther, Chaucer, Spenser, Dryden, Addison, John- son, Scott, Burns and Thomson j a leaf of the last chapter of Lord Macaulay's History of England, written just before his death j a letter of the amiable Cowper, and several passages of the first sketches of Pope's Homer, on the backs of letters addressed to himself; and among the rest, are two old manuscripts, placed in fit proximity to the greatest names of England, on which an American may look with pride and exultation — a letter from George Washington during the Revolution, directing some im- provements in the defences of llhode Island, and one from Benjamin Franklin, while Ambassador to France. Besides these, and many others who have raised themselves to glorious positions in society, is an extensive collection of autographs of the crowned heads and titled dignitaries of Europe-. The Library contains five hundre'd thousand volumes, and is increasing at the rate of twenty thousand annually. The law requires that a copy of every work published in England shall be deposited here, and arrangements are made for procuring copies of all works printed in foreign countries. Thus a vast amount of useless trash is accu- mulating, that were it mingled with works of sterling value, would sadly dilute the whole. In a few years sufficient material will accumulate to enable some future Saracen to re-enact the tragedy of Alexandria without any serious loss to literature. The Reading Room is circular, one hundred and forty •feet in diameter, with a vaulted roof rising in a dome over a hundred feet high. It is divided into twenty compartments, by moulded ribs of iron, gilded with pure gold, in each of which is a circular headed window. The seats and tables for the accommodation of the readers, are # fitted up with every convenience that can be devised j and the superintendent occupies a slightly raised platform in the centre. It is his duty to have a general oversight of the room, and to assist the students in their investiga- tions when they may desire it. The room will accommo- 40 GEOLOGIC DEPARTMENT. date over three hundred readers. Admittance is gained by recommendations from two responsible householders, who are liable for any injuries the applicant may cause to the books or other property. Applications must be renewed every six months. Once admitted to the high privilege of a reader in the Museum, a person has any book at his command which he may see proper to call for, except a few of priceless value, which require special orders from the officers, and which, as a general thing, none are allowed to examine save professional men, or those who have made considerable attainments in learning : and he can keep it through the day if he wishes to examine it at his leisure, but on no account whatever can he take it from the room. How great a privilege this is, those can partially appreciate who have seriously felt the want of rare and expensive works for reference, amid our rural districts or in our inland villages. From the library room we ascend a plain stairway near the north-east angle of the building, aod enter the North Gallery, in which is the Geologic Department : a series of rooms, six in number, occupying the northern side of the second floor, and containing fossil and mineral productions of the various strata, so arranged as to form a kind of panoramic history of creation from the earliest dawn of organic life, and even far back in the chaos which preceded that period, down through the untold centuries of the geologic ages, as it is recorded in those wondrous stony volumes, whose leaflets are the various strata, whose hieroglyphics are the casual impressions of animal and vegetable life, whose authority, when understood, is altogether unimpeachable, and whose records are second ■ only in importance to those of Divine revelation. In the first room are arranged specimens of the primi- tive formations and the oldest fossil remains ; ferns from the coal measures, and monads from the earliest stratified rocks, in endless variety and tasteful arrangement: in the second, the primitive forms of animal life, and vegetation of a more complicated character : in the third, those great uncouth monsters that sported in the waters and ranged the marshes of the carboniferous era, followed in the ZOOLOGICAL DEPARTMENT. 4 L remaining rooms by the mastodon and megatherium, and a great variety of their kindred tribes, the mammoth and the elephant of those primitive ages — the forerunners, perhaps, of the monsters of the present day. The whole series converges to, and closes in, the wonderful fossil human skeleton found in the island of Guadaloupe, as the end and final consummation of that mysterious principle of progression which seems to be the connecting link of the various periods of geology ; of which all these strange and singular forms of animal life were but the experimental types, so to speak, of the primitive efforts of nature, which gradually approached, and finally attained, their full and complete development in the perfect organization of man — creation's wondrous masterpiece*. Such is the great and sublime lesson taught by geology in connection and in harmony with Divine revelation. Such is an epitome which is here presented in a series of rocky deposits, of the Panorama of Creation, as it arose before the mind of the Shepherd Prophet, in a series of visions of retrospective prophecy, as he tended his flocks upon the plains of Midian, when the fervors of inspiration crept over him, and the mysterious origin of this world of life and beauty was revealed to his enraptured mind. The Zoological Department contains prepared specimens of almost every form of animal life, from the heavy cum- brous bulk of the hippopotamus to the light and springy autelope ; and thousands of birds, from the short thick feathers of the emew and the cassowary to the gossamer down of the cygnets of the Ganges ; from the dull gray, sombre covering of the owl, and the raven's robe of uniform mournful black, to the gorgeous pea-fowl, whose starry eyes are resplendent with Nature's inimitable dyes ; from the condor and the vulture, to the lovely little humming- bird — the very diamonds of the feathered creation, with their glittering crests and their azure breasts, and their plumage of purple and gold, and their sparkling head- dresses of tufts and top-knots, falling down in a mantle of beauty over their heads and shoulders, resplendent with colors that would rival the rainbow in purity — green, crimson, azure and violet, aud countless unnamable hues; 4* 42 BOTANICAL DEPARTMENT. and the gloriou3 Bird of Paradise ; what a paragon of perfection! — who can look upon this embodiment of beauty and feel no thrill of rapture trembling in his nerves ? and with its long tail feathers, so silken and gossamer like, fringed with an ethereal down of pearly virgin white, or dashed with the daintiest rose and crim- son, and its crowning plume of- delicate filaments, like the finest down of a thistle, seemingly too light, too fragile, too ethereal, to pass the stern ordeal of a life in the forest wilds ! In striking contrast with these lovely creatures are the awkward, uncouth figures of the. reptiles, lizards of inde- scribable forms, crawling things of horrid aspect, that infest the marshy regions of many lands ; serpents of voluminous train j beetles of unimaginable kinds, and butterflies glowing with the brightest hues ; forms of sea- life, strange and startling, thrusting their unwelcome visage on the shrinking eye ; and creatures that would rival the Centaurs of old, and mock the poet's dream of horror when he saw " Gorgons, and hydras, and chimeras dire, All kinds of living creatures, new to sight and strange." A large proportion of the Zoological Department is occu- pied with the mammalia, where may be found prepared specimens of almost every animal that roams the woods and plains of any portion of the world. Here is the Gorilla — a wild, savage, powerful looking animal, approaching even nearer to the human form than the Ouran-Outang. The Botanical Department contains a large collection of woods from every clime : from Syria, Guatemala, Australia; the cedar of Lebanon, the mahogany, the banana, enveloped in the bark, roughly split, and finely polished ; specimens of the endogenous woods from ■ tropical regions, with their pith-like cells and cord-like fibres, like cane-stalks overgrown j and, among the rest, a full-grown leaf of the Victoria Regia from Guiana, full three feet across, nearly circular. It is an aquatic plant, the leaf lying on the surface of the water, the edges ELGIN MARBLES. 43 turned up, giving it a saucer shape, and the nerves on the lower side deep and strong, beiDg able to support a child of five or six years of age. Among the shells is one called the Glory of the Sea, from the Philippine islands, cone-shaped, and delicately figured, five or six inches in length, and rather slim. It is exceedingly scarce, and the Government paid eighty guineas ($406.40) for this specimen. The western division of the building is almost exclu- sively occupied by an immense collection of antiquities, among which are many of the famous statues of Greece and Konie, fragments from the Parthenon, and pavement tiles from Carthage, and a vast collection of the antique sculptures of the primeval world, when the human mind was first emerging from the chaos of ignorance and super- stition, and putting on the first rude semblance of order and beauty. The Elgin Marbles are a large collection of sculptures from Athens. They are so called because they were brought to England by Lord Elgin. In these I was dis- appointed. A few of them are in excellent preservation, many are much injured, and a large portion might almost be called a mass of shapeless. stone, as if a multitude of statues had been deprived of heads and extremities, then thrown into a heap and tossed among each other with rough violence, till every trace of the artificial surface was totally destroyed, and they retained a mere outline of their original form. The fact, however, of these blocks of marble having been wrought by the skillful hands of Phidias and Praxiteles, and their having for long ages formed the chief ornaments of the glorious old Parthenon, in which Pericles, Demosthenes and Socrates worshiped, invests them with . an interest and a value something more than visionary. It is strange what a magic charm attaches to an object otherwise trivial, which has in some way become identified with the world's great men. I must confess a thrill of emotion ran -through my nerves as I laid my hand reverently on these hoary relics of a remote antiquity, and reflected that amid these very blocks of stone the great ones of our race had assembled 44 SCULPTURES. to perform the ceremonial rites of their intellectual idolatry j that Pericles placed them in their position as prominent ornaments of the great Temple of Minerva, and the embodiment of his idea of the beautiful ; that the eloquent words of Demosthenes had played among their mute assemblage, and the music of his voice vibrated from statue to statue, and from pillar to pillar, enveloping these fractured marbles in the mantle of his melody; and that Socrates looked upon them as he stood amid the throng of admiring votaries who crowded to hear his semi- Christian morality in the sacred shades of Academus, and in that most tragic moment of Attic story, when he had drank the deadly hemlock, obedient to the cruel mandate of his misguided country, and felt the faintness of approaching dissolution creeping over his aged limbs, he looked through his window to catch one more glimpse of his beloved city and the ever beautiful hills of Greece, and his eye rested on these very sculptures, as they hovered round the cornice of that wondrous Temple, bathed in the golden light of a Grecian sunset, and his thoughts, borne aloft by the solemn association, reverted to a vow he had not fulfilled, and he charged his weeping friends to faithfulness in their religious duties, according to the light they then enjoyed. About ninety slabs of marble from the inner frieze of the Parthenon, sculptured in bass-relief, are ranged around the room. A column, a capital, a piece of the architrave, •the original cornice of the Temple, and many statues, are among this great collection. Here is a model of the Parthenon, restored to its primitive form in the pristine days of its glory, and another, showing its ruinous state at present. During the bombardment of Athens in 1687, the Venetians threw a shell into the Parthenon where the Turks had placed a powder magazine ; it exploded, and the glory cf Grecian art was reduced to a mass of ruins. What savage desolation treads in the footsteps of war ! In the Graeco-Roman basement room is a beautiful model of the Colosseum in its present state of ruins, showing its structure and arrangement, broken, weather- beaten, stained and moss-grown — being an exact copy in every respect. ANTIQUITIES. 45 On the upper floor is the Egyptian Gallery, ghastly and grim with numerous mummies and deities of that strange race of beings. The sacred bull Apis, ichneumons, storks, crocodiles, cats, monkeys, and serpents, all embalmed with religious care ; and coffins, profusely decorated and painted with supposed likenesses of their occupants, form a col- lection dating back to a higher antiquity perhaps than any other authentic relics in the possession of man. These remains of a dim and distant past, venerable with the hoary age of more than forty centuries, have survived the waste of time; the quiet resting places of that ancient people have been violated by the prying curiosity of these later times ; their winding sheets of " fine twined linen " have been torn from their bodies, their depositories of sacred treasures broken open, and all have been exposed to the curious gaze of a people who scorn their idolatrous rites, in a land they dreamed not of. In a room in this department is a large collection or antique vases, among which is the famous Portland vase, considered the most perfect in existence, both in form and material. It is of the finest purple glass, with figures of men, women and trees, of most perfect form, enameled in white glass, and disposed around its body and on the bottom. In another suite of rooms are Assyrian antiquities, mostly exhumed by Layard during his investigations in Mesopotamia. These are truly among the wonders of modern discovery. They consist in part of unsightly figures of men and animals combined ; n.onstrous human- headed bulls and lions ; colossal figures of Rameses, Phtali, Amen-ra, and other kings, which mock the pigmy colossii of Greece and Rome, and facsimiles of the national records in strange hieroglyphics, or mostly the original records themselves — the heavy slabs of marble having been care- fully transported and arranged around the walls of the room in exactly their former position, the identical images which were looked upon, handled and reverenced by the benighted myriads of that early day. Some of them are in perfect preservation — the finest lines as distinct and accurate as when they first came from the hand of the 46 A VOICE FROM THE PAST. ancient workman; whilst others begin to show symptoms of decay, from the alternations of temperature and humidity, to which they are, with strange negligence, exposed — the surface gradually crumbling away and effacing the delicate lines, or leaving a light dust of decaying sand on receiving the slightest touch of the finger. There is something very impressive in looking through these relics of an age so remote, that the empires of the present are but as of yesterday in comparison; an antiquity before which the hoary honors of Greece and Rome become but the bloom of youth, and the usual cycle of political changes is contracted to a span. The sculptures from Nineveh date back from seven to nine centuries before Christ; several bricks from ancient Babylon, inscribed with the cuneiform character, reveal an antiquity greater by thirteen centuries ; while some of the Egyptian remains are supposed to date from a still greatly higher era. Buried beneath the debris of ruined temples, totally unknown and forgotten by the world, they have been preserved from the vandal spirit of the children of the desert, and now adorn the temples and awaken the admiration of a people whose ancestors did not emerge from the darkness of primitive barbarism till long centuries after the cities they first adorned had been swept from the face of the earth and numbered with the things that were. They now stand up as a connecting link between the busy present and the strange, mysterious past, as silent monitors, whose message, leaping over the long interval of three thousand years, seems a voice direct to us from the wondrous civilization of the primeval world, speaking of the glory that has departed, and proclaiming the instability of earthly things. The great men of their day no doubt fondly dreamed they had won^the palm of immortality and crowned their memories with imperishable renown ; yet their very nations have sunk in oblivion, and save for the Scripture records, would long since have been regarded as a fabulous myth ; while nations of other regions, far beyond " the ends of the earth/' according to their contracted ideas, MEETING A FELLOW-PATRIOT. 47 now treasure up the broken fragments of their labors, vainly searching for the slightest clue that may reveal their gifted authors. Whilst looking over the autograph of Washington, I made a casual remark to a bystander, who at once detected my country. He proved to be a young American, traveling like myself, on a journey of curiosity. An intimacy at once sprung up between us — such an intimacy as fellow-patriots will form when thrown together in a foreign land, where their native home is not regarded with a friendly eye. While we remained in London our future rambles were in company. We traveled hand in hand and heart in heart through the wonders of this mighty Babel; we loitered amid the ceaseless throng, that hurries over London Bridge ; we gave way to a mutual enthusiasm as we wandered along Fleet street with our guide books in our hands, seeking out the scenes of Dr. Johnson's and Goldsmith's resort; while still the fond thought of home rose ever and anon amid the bewildering glories of the present, and we often gave the tribute of a respectful word to our native land beyond the mists and billows of the western ocean. Such a friendship is a gem for life ! CHAPTER IX. WESTMINSTER ABBEY — INTERIOR — POET'S CORNER — ADDISON'S TOMB HENRY VII. 'S CHAPEL — NEWTON'S MONUMENT — COR- ONATION CHAIRS — YANKEE IMPUDENCE — MORNING SERVICE IN THE ABBEY. " In dim cathedrals dark with vaulted gloom, What holy awe invests the sacred tomb, When evening twilight flings her crimson stains Through the faint halos of the irised panes.*'— Holmes. P ESTMINSTER Abbey is one of the principal i buildings of London that dates from an early (I&W&l® age. It stands near the bank of the Thames, not far from Charing Cross, and in close proximity to the Houses of Parliament. It is the chosen resting place of 48 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. England's proudest sovereigns. Thirteen kings and four queens have here laid down their mortal bodies, to mingle with their original dust; and in the south transept is one of the most sacred shrines of literature. This is the far-famed Poet's Corner, where the great writers of Eng- land are buried, or have cenotaphs erected to their memory ; and the hallowed associations thus clustering around this antique pile, invest it with a spirit of dignity and awe, and throw a tincture of poetic glory over its time-worn honors, that gives it the bloom of perpetual youth, and a glow of transcendent lustre, to one whose mind has been enraptured with the glorious visions, or stunned by the startling creations of those whose images hover around its sacred precincts. Gloomy and gray with ths hoary honors of more than a thousand years, it stands in solemn grandeur, wreathed in the poetic garlands of the world's master spirits ; its lofty towers looking down on the proudest theatre of man's achievements ; its buttressed walls crumbling and mouldering with the winds and frosts of ages; it constitutes one of the most impressive monuments which the hand of man has reared. On entering at Poet's Corner, the grandeur of the interior bursts upon the eye with startling effect; long lines of gray old columns stretch away in the chill and dim obscurity; glorious 'windows, flaming with many-tinted glass, fling down a gloomy radiance ; a network of arches envelopes the solemn nave and the echoing aisles ; around you moulders the dust of England's greatest poets; you stand amid the monuments of Milton and Spenser, of Dryden and Shak- speare; a tremor of supernatural awe creeps fearfully over you ; the shades of those great immortals seem to float in fantastic frenzy through the vast and dim vacuity; and the damp, chill atmosphere sends a thrill of excite- ment through every nerve, till the whole system vibrates in harnlony with the wild convulsions of its master-chord. Such are the glowing emotions with which the votary of the Muses will stand for the first time amid the tombs of Westminster Abbey ; such the fine ideals that will play through his enraptured fancy, as he almost loses the con- addison's tomb. 49 sciousness of his physical being, and becomes absorbed in the glorious visions that open up to his intellectual eye. I lingered long amid these tombs of the world's great men ; men who established their own line of nobility, and whose burning thoughts have gone forth to the world, clad in the mystic garb of eloquence, winning the respect and challenging the admiration of mankind. At the left hand on entering, is a bust fixed on the wall, with the simple inscription below, " O rare Ben Jonson ;" beside it is another of mild and sweet expression, with the stirring name of Milton on the breast; before you stands the statue of Addison,* surrounded by the nine Muses, and another of Shakspeare, leaning on an altar, on which hangs a scroll with the thrilling passage — " The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inhabits, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind." While rambling slowly among these refting-places of the mighty dead, I was startled on looking down to see immediately at my feet on a plain marble tablet, the simple words, " Lord Macaulay's grave." I was standing over the ashes of the great historian. Unfortunately the tomb of Addison is in that part of the church which is closed against the public, and is jeal- ously guarded by a grim Cerberus, against all admiring votaries who come not armed with the might and majesty of sixpence ; even then the visit is very brief. He has laid down to his rest in the north aisle of that most glori- ous apartment, Henry VIL's Chapel, among the kings and queens of England, giving, however, rather than receiving honor by the high association. A plain marble slab, inlaid with brass, bears this inscription — * This statue is not authentic. The work is very fine but the head is not classic, indeed, rather the opposite, both in intellect and beauty. It is modeled from a painting, supposed at the time, however absurdly, to be that of the wards found to be a Duke or a Sir somebody. 5 50 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. ADDIS W. Ne'er to these chambers where the mighty rest, Since their foundation came a nobler guest, Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss conveyed A fairer spirit, or more welcome shade. Oh, gone forever, take this long adieu, And sleep in peace, next thv loved Montague. P— C. 1849. " Born 1672. Died 1719. I lingered around the resting-place of this charming writer as long as permitted. What sacrilege thus to make merchandise of these venerated shrines ! Were I to select from all the writers of modern times, that one whom I should choose to resemble in the several charac- ters of poet, essayist, and Christian, I certainly would pause before rejecting the name of Addison. In the nave of the Abbey is a beautiful monument to Sir Isaac Newton, placed near his grave. He is reclining, on his side, his right elbow resting on a pile of four large volumes, labeled Philosophy, Optics, Chemistry, and his own immortal Principia; and pointing with his left fore- finger to a scroll held by two angels above him, with the sentence, " I feel but as a child gathering pebbles on the shores of the ocean of Time." Above him floats a large globe, on which are traced the constellations and the track of the comet of 1680, and upon which sits Urania, god- dess of astronomy, her head resting upon her hand, and looking down on the starry globe, absorbed in deep con- templation. On the front of the pedestal is a beautiful bass-relief, representing three cherubs, one prying open the doors of a flaming furnace, figurative of the discovery of the compound nature of light j another pouring a quantity of coin from an urn, referring to the reduction of the coin to a standard weight, through his influence, while master of the Royal Mint ; and a third watching the growth of a plant in a vase ; while in the centre is another cherub, weighing the sun with a steelyard, with the planets for a balance. The Chapel of Henry VII. is one of the most highly finished apartments in existence. Leland calls it " the miracle of the world. " The rich carvings beneath niched CORONATION CHAIRS. 51 canopies, with pinnacles, bosses, and emblematic devices, in one great mystery of lofty conception and artistic skill, the pavement the tombs, the windows, and especially the roof, impress the mind with the idea of perfection, and leave nothing to desire. The roof is but slightly arched, and yet is self-supporting, and decorated with the most intricate system of carving, in scrolls, wreathes, and de- vices of the most complicated figures, all deeply cut in the stone, and fitted together so as to appear one solid rock. By the side of Addison's grave is the tomb of Queen Elizabeth ; an effigy, with the hands joined above the breast, and eight pillars supporting an arched canopy, decorated with carving and gilding. Near her lies Mary, Queen of Scots, her unfortunate cousin, who fell a sacri- fice to female jealousy, and over whose sad ftte every reader of history must drop a tear; and here also is buried that other Mary, from whose memory humanity recoils with a shudder — the bigoted tyrant, Queen Mary of England. The Chapel of Edward the Confessor occu- pies the middle space of this apartment, where are the tombs of Edward I., Henry III., Henry IV., Queen Eleanor, Queen Phillippa, and many other royal person- ages. In this chapel are preserved the ancient coronation chairs, one for the sovereign, the other for the prince consort, in which the kings and queens of England have been crowned for the last six hundred years. In the bottom of the former is set a block of reddish gray sandstone, called Jacob's pillow, on which the Scottish monarchs were crowned long previous to the union. It was brought from Palestine by one of their kings during the crusades, and tradition sayeth it is the stone which Jacob used for a pillow on his way to Padan-Aram. By thus uniting the two, the prejudices of both nations are respected, which have gradually clustered around these relics of the olden time, till now a sovereign would scarcely be acknowledged who did not receive the regalia of oifice in this time-honored chair They are wide, straight backed chairs, clumsy and ugly, 52 MORNING SERVICE. without cushions, without ornament, without paint, or even varnish; just such old-fashioned arm chairs as our grandmothers of the present day sit in from morning till night by our comfortable kitchen fires — cut and hacked by jack-knives, in somewhat of Yankee style, probably during the Protectorate of Cromwell, when the regal office and all its appurtenances were utterly disregarded ; a whole tribe of Joneses, and other distinguished celebrities, having added the real honors of their genuine autographs engraven with a pen of iron, to the factitious honor of being the seat where the bauble of a crown is placed upon the head of one who chanced to be born under certain conditions, regardless of his merit or ability. They are enclosed with a wooden railing. I opened a kind of gate, went in, and sat down in the sovereign's chair. This was the nearest I ever came to ascending the throne of England, but judging it most prudent to vacate the throne without making known the high honors to which I had attained, I modestly and speedily retired. I have sat in many chairs more comfortable, but never be- fore in one that held so prominent a place in the world's hi3tory. The morning service in the Abbey is very impressive. The solemn chant of the prayers, and the answering responses from the choir, go rolling through the long- drawn aisles; while the pealing anthem from the organ, and the melody of vocal praise, mount upward to the lofty vault, and play along the antique fretwork and ornate mouldings of the echoing nave, amid whose gorgeous tracery a full-orbed window of richly colored glass lets down its tinctured beam of dim and sombre light. The Spirit of Harmony itself dwells there, mingling her mel- low warblings with the murmured anthems of the Genius of the hoary Past, who sits enthroned on Chaucer's tomb; and the full-toned burst of adoration goes swelling upward and outward, floating onward, and ever onward, to the throne of the Ancient of Days ; and transforming those glorious halls from a mere temple for earthly worship, into the portals of "a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." WESTMINSTER PALACE. 5 CHAPTER X. WE8TMINSTER PALACE HOUSE OF LORDS ENGLISH THRONE ACCOMMODATIONS FOR TUB NOBLES COURT OF APPEALS REPROOF OF " FAST" AMERICA HOUSE OF COMMONS ST. Stephen's PORcn — Westminster hall — reflections — LUDICROUS MISTAKE. " Not Babylon Nor great Aleairo, such magnificence Equaled in all their glories,' to enshrine Belus or Serapis, their gods : or seat Their kings when Egypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxury'."— Milton. SAYING procured ticKets of admission of the Lord Great Chamberlain (what sounding titles these English do manufacture !), my American friend and I entered the building at the Victoria Tower, to have a view of the great council chambers, where the destinies of England are decided, and the congregated wisdom and aristocracy of the nation hold their deliberative assem- blies. After passing through several apartments, and one or two long corridors, and mounting a splendid flight of steps, we were ushered into the House of Lords ; one of the most magnificent and exquisitely finished apart- ments, perhaps, which the world can boast. On each side are twelve windows, with four lights of the richest stained glass, each presenting a full length portrait of one of the English sovereigns or their consorts, and the series is completed by including Cromwell. Be- low the windows runs a gallery for spectators, around three sides of the room, protected by a railing of twisted bars of brass, and numerous doors concealed in the orna- mental panel work lead from the gallery to the outer passages. On the arch beneath the gallery which springs from the wall, are many compartments, in which are em- blazoned the coats of arms of all the Lord Chancellors from William the Couqueror to the present time. The ceiling is divided by heavy ribs into diamond-shaped figures, in each of which is a gilded device relating to the govern- ment, the lion and the rose, the shamrock, the thistle and 54 PARLIAMENT HOUSES. the harp, and the royal monogram, VR, entwined in a knotted cord with tassels. All parts of the room are of live-oak, the national wood, carved with the most elaborate precision into flowers, oak leaves, and wreaths j and the motto, Dieu et mon droit, God and my rights, is endlessly repeated. The northern end of the room is deeply recessed by the gallery and the arched doorways leading into the lobby and side offices. Here are the seats for the Usher of the Black Rod, and other officers attendant on the Lords in session ; and also the space allotted to the Com- mons, when called to attend the Upper House. By no possibility could one fifth of the members* be crowded into the narrow area. At the southern end of the room stands the grand centre, around which all this magnificence clusters — the English Throne ; not the figurative, imaginary thing an American is apt to picture to himself, and to decorate and adore according to the warmth of his fancy, and the glow of his patriotism ; but the real, outward, visible, tangible throne ; the grand corporeal centre, the material heart of th'3 British government; a straight, square, angular, up-and-down fabric, cut, carved, hacked, and gilded into the most profuse decorations. It is without one curve of beauty in its whole periphery, except a stumpy triple arch beneath the canopy, a series of five gothic pinnacles in oak carving, supported by four eight- square'posts about twelve feet high, the central ones being larger than the others, and projecting forward a little in front. The three recesses thus formed are divided by rich lattice-work, and each contains a chair of state — the central one for the queen, on a platform four steps in height, the others one step lower. The Queen's chair is a wide, straight-backed, high- armed structure, full large enough for old Fallstaff and room to spare, with a crimson velvet cushion richly em- broidered in gold and purple. In the back is a circular *The Lower House has G58 members. The House of Lords is 90 feet long, 45 wide and 45 high. ENGLISH THRONE. 55 cushion of the same material, above which is set a segment of brilliant gems, surmounted by a pointed Gothic pinna- cle. All parts of the chair are most elaborately ornamented, and flaming with gold and jewels. In the back of the throne, behind th% seat, are wrought the arms of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. The footstool is about eighteen inches long, covered with fine crimson silk plush, on which are wrought the lion and rose in white embroi- dery, and brilliant gilding. The side chairs are of similar construction, except that they have finely rounded backs, are smaller, and rather more elegant. The Prince of Wales sits at the Queen's right hand ; Prince Albert sat at her left. It is singular that not one graceful curve, not one wave of beauty, should have entered into the contour of this most exquisite piece of workmanship. In fact the whole affair, if entrusted to the supervision of a second-rate Yankee workman, would have been gotten up with better taste, and been more worthy of a nation of such boasted refinement. Even our rebels of the South, I will venture to predict, if they establish their monarchy, will prepare a more tasteful and appropriate throne for him whom they shall "raise to that bad eminence/' They will at least grace it with the curves of a few whip-lashes, and the rattlesnake will no doubt twine in graceful folds around the legs and arms of the chair, while the elegant figure and waviug outline of a "nigger" on all fours, will serve them admirably for a footstool. The seats for these high dignitaries of England are long straight benches, cushioned with scarlet leather, with no divisions between the members, with no rests tor their arms, and as the seats rise from the centre of the room, there is no rest for the hands in speaking. The speakers, except on the front seat, must stand in a close, cramped, confined space, and any papers that may be needed for reference during their remarks, are kept, — Genius of American Progress, look back with a smile of complacent modesty far in the wake of thy dashing and bold career, — they are kept in a box at their feet ! ! I The woolsack, or seat for the Lord Chancellor, who is 56 PARLIAMENT HOUSES. the chief officer of the House, is a bench about six feet by four, cushioned with crimson cloth, wich an upright board in the centre to lean against, and without an arm- rest of any description ! In front of the Lord Chancellor are two woolsacks for the judges when they sit on appeals. They are about the same size as the former, without even a rest for the back. Here the judges sit in legal dignity, all around the benches, back to back on the same bench, and face to face on the inside of the two opposite ones. A more ludicrous arrangement could not well be contrived. Only imagine the select judges of the land seated gravely on two tables, each for want of a better support leaning against the back* of his neighbor ; and when- one becomes bowed down with wine or wisdom, and nods in the unequal conflict, his equilibrium becomes slightly disturbed, and they assume a more brotherly attitude side oy side. And to a court thus accommodated, in that most glorious House of Lords, are the ultimate appeals on matters of the most vital interest carried up from the inferior tribunals. And here again, oh thou wild and wayward spirit of American refinement, how darest thou prepare for thy legislators the easy and comfortable arm chair, with cushions, and spring back, the elegant writing desk with all the conveniences of counting-room furniture; the waste of vacant space in which he can move with ease and freedom, when addressing his compeers in council assembled ; when the high-born aristocrat of the mother- land is humbly content with these meagre conveniences ? Vain ostentation ! preposterous luxury ! pause in thy headstrong career. See where thy " fast" disposition has brought thee — into strife, and turmoil, and rebellion. Go back to thy goal of departure. Be content to copy old England in modesty, and remember that stagnation need fear no shipwreck. From the House of Lords we passed into the lobby, *By the way, then, they must excel our Congressmen in the amount of backbone they possess, or each one could not support his neighbor. HOUSE or COMMONS. 57 whence a corridor leads to a large octagonal hall in the centre of the building, finished in gorgeous style, from which another corridor leads to the House of Commons, a larger apartment, also finished in carved oak of most exquisite workmanship, but of the plainest possible ap- pearance, varnished and left of the natural color. It is encircled with a gallery for spectators. The windows of stained glass are very plain and beautiful, and in fact the whole room is divested of every trace of gaudy show, and has a thoroughly business-like appearance. The ceiling is plain, rising toward the centre from all sides, where an opening filled with ground glass, conceals a large gas burner, from which the whole room is lighted. The seats are the same as in the Upper House, except they are cushioned with black leather. The speaker occupies a comfortable chair at the end of the room, en a platform slightly raised. The table for the clerks, and on which the mace is laid, which constitutes the formal opening of the House, stands in front of him. The sergeant-at-arms sits opposite the speaker near the door-way. We now retraced our steps to the central octagon, and passed out through St. Stephen's Porch, a large hall adorned with statues of modern great men, among whom are Pitt, Chatham, Burke, and Fox, and entered West- minster Hall, which is now but the vestibule of the Houses of Parliament. It is paved with large flags, and the complicated selt-supporting roof, which springs in one wide arch of intricate framework, over the vast area of two hundred and seventy feet by seventy-four, was the wonder of architects for many successive ages, and indeed is yet rarely, if ever, equaled. Descending a noble flight of steps, we stand on the floor of that ancient apartment which has witnessed so many thrilling events in the history of this turbulent nation. What a host of stirring memories hover round this great historic Hall I Here a nation's weal and a nation's woe have been meted out with lavish hand, and her des- tinies heedlessly moulded by rude and imperious men. Here the shame and the glory of England have perched on her powerful banner. Here Stratford was tried and 58 WESTMINSTER HALL. condemned, a sacrifice to the violence of the popular excite- ment that preceded the civil war Here a recreant king was arraigned before his imperiled people ; was tried and found guilty of attempting to subvert the liberties of the nation. Here his awful sentence was pronounced, which sent a thrill of horror through all the crowned heads of Europe, and is yet so fertile a theme of deprecation among all who wish to make their court to royalty; a sentence which condemned the royal criminal to the death of the common malefactor. And this same Hall in later times was the scene of the magnificent trial of the great War- ren Hastings, on his impeachment for the conduct of his Indian government, when the wisdom, and the patriotism, and the beauty of London, were assembled to hear the great cause, and listen to the siren voice and thrilling eloquence of Burke. The Hall was built by Richard II., and the first grand historic scene which it witnessed was the deposition of its founder. On either side are held the various courts of law, this being the great seat of legal learning, and the fountain of legal justice for the kingdom. On the day when Parliament met, I strolled down to the building to see the members assembling. Many carriages drove up and set down finely dressed gentle- men, whom I could fancy to be peers of the realm, or relatives of the august Victoria, lineal descendants of a licentious Charles II. or a bigoted Henry VIII., and by a possible train of events, heirs to the throne of England. The policeman keeping guard at the door, made rather a ludicrous mistake. I stepped up to ask a question, and he mistook me for a member. Without waiting to under- stand my inquiry, he bowed politely, opened the door, and replied in the blandest manner, " Pass in, sir." Some- what taken by surprise at this unexpected reception. I hesitated for a moment, but instantly recovering myself, was just passing in ; but it was too late, he had detected me; so I concluded to stay outside among the common people. What a pity to be burthened with an excess of honesty ! a little more roguishness on my part might have carried me triumphantly in on the tide of fortune, and have placed me for a moment amid the legislators of LUDICROUS MISTAKE. 59 merrie old England. Let no one imagine, however, there was any resemblance between the humble writer and these "lords of human kind." A moment's observation on the part of the intelligent policeman corrected the error and prevented my being expelled. CHAPTER XI. NATIONAL GALLERY ART OF PAINTING — SPIRIT OP BEAU- TY — LANDSCAPES OF CLAUDE LORRAINE — CORREGGIO'S HOLY FAMILY — TITIAN — RUBENS' PEACE AND WAR REMBRANDT — TURNER — NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY — DULWICH PICTURE GALLERY. " Immortal Art, where e'er the rounded sky Bends its rich canopy, thy children lie : Their home is earth." — Holmes. " True poetry the painter's power displays, True painting emulates the poet's lays." — Du Fresnoy. y>N a spacious building of no great architectural lit) pretentions, fronting on Trafalgar Square, one of the great centres of London, is the National Gal lery of Paintings. In this great collection are many of the choicest gems of the leading masters of the art, from the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries; and perhaps in real excellence, and the splendor of the catalogue of authors, it is not greatly surpassed even by the world- famed galleries of the Vatican, save only in the works of Michael Angelo and Raphael, a large proportion of which are in fresco on the walls and ceilings of Italian churches. The productions of some of our masters of the fine arts exhibit a type of the human mind in its utmost refinement, its vivid creations leaping forth as it were to life and activity, as his fingers play with fairy sweep over the canvas ; or starting to the form and symmetry of the natural body, from the block of inanimate marble, beneath the magic touch of the sculptor's hand. It is a noble effort of the mind, to attempt thus to throw its concep- tions on external objects, and call into visible being the creations of its fancy. 60 SPIRIT OF BEAUTY. Painting is one of the most attractive and difficult pursuits in which this class of minds love to engage. How exciting the emotions which the painter feels, when running over the wild fancies of his brain, his living ideas leap into form and color, and present themselves to his mental vision for his examination and judgment, as he sits almost entranced from the world, selecting from the superabundance of images that start out from vacuity, and holding communion with the airy forms that play their wizard acts before his enraptured mind. Cold indeed must be that fancy, that could behold unmoved the master productions of some of our eminent artists. That mind is little to be envied, that warms not into rapture before the glowing canvas of Titian, of Rembrandt, or Correggio; that feels no strong emotion stirring in its inmost depths, when gazing on a landscape by the master hand of Claude j when Reynolds, with his magic wand, recalls some great historic scene ; or Rubens, in a playful mood, portrays a fairy dance. Those master minds have ever recognized the presence of the Spirit of Beauty throughout the works of nature. It addresses itself to the heart of man wherever he turns his eye ; it pervades his very soul, and thrills throughout his entire intellectual being, as his eye rests in rapture on the delicate tracery of design, wherever the fairy hand of Nature has touched responsive matter with her life-giving wand. The Spirit of Beauty, like a messenger of mercy from the throne of Love, has flung her enchanting mantle over this terrestrial home of man, and decorated it with all the gorgeous tintings that can throw their spell over his enraptured soul, and breathe into his awakened mind that quenchless thirst for the poetry of nature, whoso longings can only be satisfied by drinking deeply at the fountain-head of harmony and life. Beauty is to the natural world what error is to the world of art; it comes spontaneously and uncalled for. As in the most elaborate of human productions we still see a trace of the care that was bestowed upon them ; we see that effort was required to ^ive to them the perfection of form, the elegance of position, the grace of seeming THE PAINTER'S REVERIE, 61 action, and the mimic spirit of life ; so, on the contrary, nature's works forever bear upon their countenances that joyous expression of inimitable ease which completely conceals all attempt at skillful arrangement. How thrilling, how ardent the emotions with which those old masters contemplated the works of nature, aa they chased the fugitive ideal of perfection through her ever-varying forms, amid scenes forever new, and objects ever strange ; as their intellectual vision wandered over fields of untold wealth, and prospects of surpassing beauty ; as they attempted to grasp the vast perspective opening up before their minds, in all its native beauty, in all its burning dignity of uncreated harmony and life ; while the glowing images of their poetic minds were racing incessantly through their brain, like the alternate lights and shadows, pursuing each other with fleeting footpace over the moonlit meadows, when the broken clouds are holding their airy gambols in heaven. We can perhaps realize the rapture that must have throbbed in their bosoms, only by supposing ourselves placed in the condition of our first Parents, in that grove- encircled garden, when man sprung into existence with his faculties fully developed; gifted with newness of life, and inspirited with primeval energy : when woman first came blooming from the hand»of her divine Creator; and that rich inheritance of feeling, affection, and sympathy, which remains to be her distinguishing characteristic, first came welling up in crystal purity from the deep fountains of life within her : when the glories of the first sunrise in Eden revealed the angelic presence of the Spirit of Beauty, as she flung her enchanting mantle over that rich panoply of clouds, which, streaming in the eastern sky with all the mingled hues primeval light could give, reflected like a vast cerulean mirror the gorgeous splendors of advancing dawn ; and scattered from her benignant hand that profusion of flowerets, which enam- eled their pathway, sparkling in the early sunbeam of the morning, with crystal gems dropped from the ethereal expanse above. Some of Claude's landscapes are the ne plus ultra. 6 62 Claude's landscapes. The Embarkation of trie Queen of Sheba, has a water view running back to the distant horizon, of which the perspective is most astonishing. The foreground is occu- pied by a range of splendid temples, with long colonnades of pillars on either side of a small harbor, and the royal barges lying at the wharf. The Queen has taken her seat beneath a gorgeous canopy of peafowl plumes, and many members of the royal party are lounging here and there on rich divans, or leisurely sauntering around the decks in the brilliant sunlight of that orient clime; while men of stalwart frame are carrying on board the various bag- gage which such a traveler would require on such a journey. Between the buildings which line the water-edge, the harbor falls away to the margin of the boundless ocean, where several ships are tossing on the troubled waves; and beyond them the watery expanse gradually becomes more and more misty, as the waves diminish in the distance ; while on the extreme horizon a range of bluffs peers up in the hazy air on the left; and a gleam of reflected light from the sun, looking through the broken clouds a little above the ocean's brim, glitters on the vapory horizon, and contributes greatly to the general effect by which the waters are carried far back into the illimitable distance, with a delusion that the will can scarcely rectify. Several more of Claude's pieces are of similar character, especially the Grand Canal of Venice ; and his works are finished with that minuteness of detail which bears close inspection as well as distant views. Landscape was his forte ; and he stood in the very foremost rank of that branch of the art. One of the richest gems in the collection is the Holy Family, by Correggio. The Virgin is seated, with a child in her lap, while Joseph stands in the background busily employed with his plane. Notwithstanding its high repu- tation, the picture, to my inexperienced eye, is certainly not greatly superior to many others. The features of the mother are not cast in the Grecian mould; the nose is certainly not small in proportion, the forehead not of the finest order, and the whole face, beautiful it is true, but WORKS OF MASTERS. 63 not that paragon of perfection one would expect from the enormous value placed upon it. The child must be con- sidered a masterpiece of artistic skill, as it came from so famous a hand ; it is a round, full-faced, chubby little darling, in a loose and scanty night dress. Joseph is thrown in a deep shade, as a secondary adjunct to the piece. The coloring is exceedingly fine, the softness of the flesh-tints is rarely equaled, and the general design is very striking. It is a precious gem of art, as it surely is of wealth. It measures ten inches by thirteen, and the British government bought it for three thousand eight hundred guineas ($19,304.00). The Ecce Homo — Christ crowned with thorns, and brought before Pilate, when he exclaims, i( Behold the man/' — and Mercury, Cupid and Venus, both by the same hand, are most exquisite pieces. The former is simply a bust of Christ as large as life, with the thorny crown upon his head, and an expression of silent, patient suffering, mingled with compassionate love for man, and his eyes raised to heaven in prayer. The latter represents Cupid reciting his lesson to Mercury, a winged god who is sitting down, and Venus, clothed in a loos^and flow- ing robe, is standing by, and looking over. For these two pieces the government paid eleven thousand guineas. Many of Titian's pieces are also here. His chief excellence, in which he rivals all other painters, is the perfection of his coloring. No other artist ever succeeded equally well in disposing the colors of his piece in such perfect harmony, and very few in giving to their life- figures so much of the softness and delicacy of nature. Peace and War, by Bubens, is a mingling of the lovely and the frightful. Peace, is a happy matron in the midst of a group of smiling children, with fruits and books around them, and flowerets twisted into wreathes or twined in their flowing hair, looking the very picture of home delights and domestic comforts ; and War, a savage, scowling fury, armed with whips of scorpions, the deadly adder twining around his head, and a flaming firebrand waving in his hand, is driving a crowd of heipless and terror-stricken wretches, tattered, starving, and leprous- 64 NATIONAL GALLERY/ spotted, in wild confusion from his demoniac presence, and a band of infernal fiends is lying in wait to spring upon them in their flight ; making one of the wildest con- stellations of horrors that ever sprang from a painter's fancy. There would seem to be no bond of union between such dissimilar scenes, and a hasty judgment might decide the piece must be very defective, but the artist has happily linked them together by a simple and beautiful device; the matron and some of the older children are look- ing out of a window in their happy home on this fearful scene, with an expression of pity in their countenances, that does not mar the serenity of conscious safety, or the happiness that springs from industry, temperance, and high-toned virtue. Rembrandt's portrait of himself is a model of delicate coloring. He is seated in a dim, obscure light, with a wide-rimmed hat, and a coarse, hairy coat, which almost mingle with the background, so indistinct do they appear ; but the face has the softness, freshness and bloom of life; so perfectly are the shades mingled, so delicately are the colors applied, that the figure seems to swell out from the canvas, and could almost be taken for a bust by nature. Some of Vandyke's paintings are of inestimable value, especially the portrait of an old man, that seems to lack but the spirit to make it live. Venus kissing Cupid, by another .hand, and Folly, a child throwing a handful of roses at them, while Time draws the curtain of futurity, and discloses Envy and Satiety before them ; and a Harpy, a beautiful-faced child, whose body ends in a scaly dragon, offering them a piece of honeycomb, and holding a dart behind her in her other hand, make up a group of ex- quisite beauty, and convey a very suggestive moral ; but the coloring is cold, and lacks the life and vigor of Rem- brandt or Titian. Many of Reynolds' historic scenes are here, which recall the great events of fabulous or authentic times, and add an interest to the story of a nation's deeds. Turner's paintings are very numerous, and considered by the generality of London critics as models of perfec- tion. One large room is devoted exclusively to his works, and has received unbounded praise. A few of them are turner's works. 65 scattered among the other rooms. Were I to venture an opinion on them, it would be that with three-fourths of the collection, the costly frames and splendid glass with which they are trimmed, are of more value than the pictures themselves. The human figures are ridiculous caricatures ; yet some of his landscapes rank among the better class of works. Dido building Carthage, is very fine, but unfortunately hangs immediately beside Claude's Embarkation of the Queen of Sheb'a, and the contrast plucks a feather from its plume. Perhaps it was intended as a sly satire on the pompous fame of Turner. Crossing the Brook, has a fine perspective, and a few isolated palms and oaks are perhaps of the very first order, but in gene- ral his productions are unworthy of the place they hold among the works of art. A few years will rectify the public taste, and cool the enthusiasm which his recent and unhappy death has aroused in his numerous but imperfect works. In these spacious halls are preserved a large collection of gems from the world's great masters, relics of inesti- mable value, and legacies of the leading spirits of our race to mankind at large, of which the British nation may well be proud. In the National Portrait Gallery is a large collection of dingy old likenesses of scholars and statesmen, shown in a very unfavorable light. Some of them are of great excellence and value. Here is the original Chandos por- trait of Shakspeare, with a copy of another at a different time of life, and a bust, supposed to be authentic, copied from the one placed over his grave in the church of Strat- ford-on-Avon. Here are also portraits of Dry den, Pope, Thomson, Locke, Goldsmith, Garrick, Lady Jane Grey, and Lord Gilford Dudley, and a bust of Oliver Cromwell. At Dulwich, in the southern suburbs of the city, is another gallery of paintings, mostly by the old masters. Some of the works of Vandevere, Wouvermans, Claude, and David Tennis, are strikingly beautiful. One choice gem especially is by the latter artist; a winter scene of a common plain domestic landscape, that at first view looks uninviting and monotonous. A clump or two of ever- 66 DULWICH GALLERY. greens, a group of rustics crowded round a door in the foreground, with cattle and sheep scattered over the furze- covered plain, a building or two in the background, and a distant hill covered with naked woods, are the prominent features of this picture. But its distinguishing trait is its wonderfully accurate and truthful perspective. Upon screening the eye from the surrounding light, the objects instantly spring out into a perfect stereoscopic effect, and the picture is at once transformed from a flat canvas sur- face to a real miniature landscape, in which every object assumes its due position, and its relative size. Nothing can exceed the perfection of the delusion, and the picture at once becomes a gem of art. CHAPTER XII. TOWER OF LONDON — WHITE TOWER — BLOODY TOWER QUEEN ELIZABETH'S ARMORY — CROWN JEWELS — FAN- CIES — WHITE HALL — ASSOCIATIONS — ENGLISH REBEL- LION — CROMWELL. '• In that dread hour ray country's guard I stood." — Marturin. "That such a man, with the eye to see, with the heart to dare, should advance from post to post, from victory to victory, till the Huntingdon aimer became virtually the King of England, requires no magic to ex- lain it." — Carlisle. " Cromwell was emphatically a man,"— Macaulay. ^I^BOUT a mile below London Bridge, immediately £jBK on the bank of the Thames, stands that grand Z M\W£ historic pile, the Tower of London. This im- pregnable fortress, so familiar to the reader of English history, which has been the scene of so many tragedies in the long succession of more than thirty reigns, during which it has never been taken by a foreign foe, is sur- rounded by a moat or ditch nearly a thousand yards in circumference, on each side of which is a stone wall. This moat sinks far below the water-level of the Thames, and can be flooded at any time, through a large gateway in the wall next the river. The Traitor's Gate, through TOWER OF LONDON, 67 which state criminals were received from a boat on the water, is in this wall. In the early days of tyranny the sovereign often chose to accuse those ministers of treason, who were special favorites with the people, and fearful they might be rescued by the populace if conveyed to prison through the streets, they adopted the plan of taking them to a boat immediately after arrest, and thus keeping them beyond the reach of the people, whose rights they were too zealous to maintain. The principal building is the White Tower, built by William the Conqueror, and consequently over eight hundred years old. The walls are from twelve to eighteen feet in thickness, of solid masonry, and a circular watch- tower rises from each angle. The Bloody Tower, built by William Rufus, is but little less ancient. Several separate towers are situated in the different angles of the outer walls, each of which has its terrible history. The Horse Armory is a modern building for the accommoda- tion of the armor and weapons of ancient times. Our party was conducted by the Warden, who had us in charge, into this apartment, where the armor of every age from the Conquest to the reign of William III., is exhib- ited, about which time its use was entirely abandoned. The earliest suit whose original owner is certainly known is that of Henry VIII. They are worn by figures on foot, or mounted on horseback, in the same manner as in the olden time. From this room we were conducted to Queen Elizabeth's Armory, where are many cannon of curious workmanship or enormous size, and a countless multitude of warlike weapons. We visited the room where Sir Walter Raleigh was confined, and the cell in the wall twelve feet square, where he wrote his great history ; also, the room where Lord Gilford Dudley was confined previous to his execu- tion, and were shown the axe with which Lady Jane Grey wns beheaded. What a sad interest clusters around these mementoes of the times of old! Several cannon which were recovered from the Royal George, sunk in 1782; and many articles lately rescued from the Mary Rose, which sunk in the reign of Henry 68 CKOWN JEWELS — FANCIES, VIII., having been submerged, the former fifty-two, and the latter nearly three hundred years; large guns of im- mense value taken in India and China, at Trafalgar and Waterloo, and other noted slaughter grounds, are here preserved as trophies of the might of England, or objects of curiosity from the circumstances with which they were surrounded. ' We then visited the Crown Jewels, which are kept in the Jewel Tower at the northeast corner of the wall, a building devoted exclusively to this purpose. They are placed on a large table rising in several terraces, sur- mounted at top by the glorious crown of good Queen Yic. On the lower shelves are the crowns of the Prince of Wales and of Anne Boleyn ; the sceptre of Lady Jane Grey, of ivory, richly inlaid ; the sceptre of state, of solid gold ; the sceptre of the Black Prince ; a golden spoon, the only relic of the ancient regalia ; the swords of jus- tice, both ecclesiastical and temporal ; and a golden salt- cellar, a model of the White Tower, presented to Queen Elizabeth. The jewels are surrounded by a heavy wire screen. My American friend and I lingered long after the rest of the party were gone, looking through the open yards, examining the objects ot curiosity we were kindly per- mitted to visit, conversing with the gentlemanly warden, and indulging those reflections which came thronging on our minds when we recalled the terrible scenes of English tragedy which had transpired on the grounds and in the grim old walls around us, where the most abandoned men, whose heads were gilded with the bauble of a crown, whose birth entitled them to power, or whose accomplished vices gave them favor with a vicious sovereign, at times indulged those passions, and those little petty piques and private animosities, under the pretense of public measures, which in a lower sphere of life would have marked them as the pests of society, and the scourges of the places where they lived : while the dying shrieks of murdered princes rang in our mental ears, the lambent flames of the martyr's fires threw a lurid glare o'er the hoary walls, and with the aid of a little fancy we could almost see the WHITE HALL. 69 visage of Queen Mary glaring, like a horrid fury, from the loopholes of the Bloody Tower ; while Cranmer's spirit waved a flaming brand before her, and pointed downward, as he stared her in the face, with a sad expres- sion of indignant pity. We afterward visited White Hall Chapel, not far from Westminster Abbey. It is a plain but beautiful building. Pillars in relief break the monotony of the walls, a heavy and elegant cornice almost conceals the roof, and an iron rod supports a weather-vane, the same which was erected by Charles II., at a time when he expected an invasion from the Continent, in order that he might note the general direction of the wind, and judge of the probability of his enemies landing in his realm. The interior is of mingled Doric and Corinthian architecture. Seven pillars in relief, and as many panels on each side, are the promi- nent features of the walls. The panels are hung with rich velvet drapery, of brilliant scarlet shaded with purple, and the ceiling, which is flat, is divided by heavy ribs, gilded and richly carved, into several oblong compart- ments, in each of which is a historic painting ; those in the centre quadrangles being surrounded by an oval gilt frame. Many thrilling associations cluster around White Hall, so famous in the eventful history of England. From one of its windows history says that King Charles I. was taken to his execution, when the cause of republicanism had a brief and turbulent ascendency in the annals of this country, when Cromwell rose so high on the billows of popular excitement, that no possibility remained of a safe descent, and his only alternative was to make one final effort to climb to the highest pinnacle, and either gain the summit, and stand the nation's proud Protector, or fail in the attempt and fall to irretrievable ruin. The die was cast : the powers of Despotism sunk beneath his giant mind ; with one Herculean effort he hurled the monarch from his throne, and the world resounded with the crash of his falling fortunes. The victor climbed to the dizzy height, and with a giant will, and a calm, col- lected, dignified prudence, ruled the mighty nation with ou t opposition, till the close of his long and eventful life. 70 CROMWELL. This is generally considered one of the most tragic scenes in history. To me it is one of the grandest that the annals of ages present. For centuries upon centuries the populace of England had submitted almost without opposition to the domination of a monarch, but when his encroachments on their rights transcended the bounds of endurance, the people arose in their might and demanded a restriction of the prerogative, and failing to attain their object, public opinion became excited, aud the public indignation aroused to that pitch, that with one tremendous surge it swept the monarch to destruction, and hurled the throne itself into oblivion during the average life of man. What cannot a firm resolve and a determined energy accomplish ? Cromwell, born amid the lower ranks of society, receiving his education with the indigent peas- antry, and inured to the stern realities of a life of privations and toil, felt within himself the glow of trans- cendent abilities, and the aspirations of predestined dominion : and breaking through the incrustations of caste, which press like an incubus upon society, rose superior to all opposition, assumed that authority which the common consent of men confided to his care, stamped his own impress upon the times in which he lived, moulded the destinies of the nation with his plebeian hand, flung a wreath of myrtle around his brow, and proudly took his stand upon the higher regions of the Mount of Fame. ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. 71 CHAPTER XIII. ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS — BEHEMOTH — GIRAFFES — BIRDS R*EP- TILES — BOTANIC GARDENS — PALM HOUSE — RHODODEN- DRONS — GARDENS AT KEW — THE TORRID ZONE IN A WORLD OF CRYSTAL — BANIAN TREE — CEDAR OF LEBANON — MUSE- UMS — RUDIMENTAL MINDS IN SAVAGES. " Let cavilers deny That brutes have reason."— Somcrville. " The grain is God's bounty, and the flowers are his smiles." — Newton. "IfpN Regent's Park — a beautiful pleasure-ground of four hundred acres, toward the north-western borders of London — are the Zoological Garden?, containing a large collection of living animals from foreign lands. They are kept in apartments of considerable size, and have as many of the comforts of their nature as it is possible to give them. The more ferocious are in cells of strong masonry, with iron bars in front, while the milder species are surrounded with a net-work of strong wire, and the herbiverous animals have large buildings with yards where they can move at ease. Here is the Hippopotamus or Eiver Horse, in all his hideous deformity, ugly and repulsive : a thick, square, heavy set body, with short cylindrical legs, and a head of frightful form, approaching the body itself in size. The tip of the nose is as wide as the forehead, and his mouth, when open, forms a cavern full three feet wide, the slit of the lips running up nearly to the top of the upper jaw. They were caught in the Upper Nile, and presented to the Queen by the Viceroy of Egypt. They are amphibious, and have large water cisterns, where they wallow their huge, unwieldy forms with great apparent enjoyment. Behemoth seems to be the nearest living representative of the strange and startling forms of animal life that roamed the woods and marshes of the early geologic ages. In these gardens are four fine specimens of the Giraffe, three full grown and one eight months old. Strange, misshapen things they are, but not ungraceful. The little 72 BOTANIC GARDENS. one especially is handsome. The skin is of a brown color, beautifully checkered with light gray lines dividing the ground into diamond-shaped squares with rounded angles. The Barbarossa hog of Celebes is another rare animal, with very long tusks, which curve to a full circle. The warty-headed hog (literally named); the clouded tiger of Assam; the ratel, a badger-like animal; a large uncouth rhinoceros ; and a sloth, from South America, an unhappy looking creature, with long blunt claws, but destitute of a palm or ball of ^the foot, whose only means of locomotion is by swinging itself from branch to branch ; are among the rarest animals of this collection which most strongly arrest a stranger's attention. An ostrich, ten feet hi^h when standing erect; the secretary bird ; the einew ; the cormorant, which so fully sustains its reputation for voraciousness, catching large fish as thrown to it, and swallowing them almost without the least apparent effort ; and the pelicans, so beautifully awkward, with their long flexible bills, are among the most curious birds ; also the condor of the Andes, full grown, measuring twelve feet between the tips of his expanded wings ; vultures from the Alps, and eagles in great variety. Among the reptiles, is a crocodile from the Mississippi ; a boa constrictor, from South America; lizards, from Australia; the horrid amphisbcena, a venomous snake, from India; chameleons, from Africa; and the only living specimen of the gigantic salamander of Japan ever brought alive to Europe. It resembles a rough moss- covered stone, rudely sculptured into a heavy awkward lizard-like body, with a thick tail and club head, rather than a being endued with life and animation. Almost every foreign animal, whether quadruped, reptile, or winged, that can be procured and preserved alive, are here exhibited. In the same park is another enclosure containing the Botanic Gardens ; perhaps the most nearly universal col- lection of plants from all climates, which the world contains. AVe were admitted by tickets kindly furnished us by a Fellow of the Society. These gardens are of GARDENS AT KEW. 73 exquisite beauty, aud laid out with the utmost nicety ; greenhouses are scattered here and there for tropical and delicate plants. The principal building is a beautiful structure of iron and glass, and consists of five transepts, side by side, with roofs arched at the eaves, and a sixth crossing the ends of these with a semi-dome-like projection in the middle. It is filled with tropical plants in great variety. The flowers in full bloom, under the equatorial temperature of these crystal buildings, and the singular forms of vegetation, so beautiful, so graceful, so luxuriant, give one the idea as he rambles among the palms, bananas, cocoas, bread-fruits, victoria regias, cactus, and tree-ferns, of being transported to the torrid zone. We fell in company with the master gardener, a very social man, who took us to see the American plants, a vast collection of rhododendrons. Thousands upon thousands of these brilliant flowers are clustered in a beautiful plot of an acre in extent, the whole of which is covered with a canvas awning, in order to mellow the light, and break off the glare of the sun. The flowers show to much better advantage, and continue to bloom for a much longer time in consequence of this protection. They are of all colors, from the purest white, varying through the ming- ling hues of pink, purple, and crimson, to the brightest scarlet. Standing on a slight eminence where we can overlook the whole of this blooming garden, the effect is very fine. One universal mass of glowicg colors mingles in harmonious beauty, while the glare of the noonday sun is mellowed and subdued, and a softened radiance beams over this garden of delicious flowers. But the most attractive pleasure grounds in the vicinity of London are the Gardens of Kew, perhaps the finest in the world. They are laid out in most delightful style, and contain a vast number of plants from all climes, in the open air, and in hot-houses. A high gallery runs around the palm house, from which the view is truly novel. We look down on a confused mass of tropical verdure — palms, bananas, cocoas, and a countless host of kindred plants. The air is hot and damp, and redolent with a tropical perfume ; and birds from the torrid zone 7 74 BANIAN TREE. flit from tree to tree, and enjoy perfect freedom in this little world of crystal, while no pains are spared to pre- serve every plant as nearly as possible in the natural conditions it requires. In this house is a living specimen of the banian tree, growing in a soil cf rich loam. It is only eight years old, and not very thrifty. Nine stems arise from the ground, and it spreads about eighteen ieet wide. It is very rarely we see a living representative of this most singular form of vegetable life. On an island in the Nerbuaha river is a gigantic tree of this species, with three thousand trunks, under which Tamerlane once sheltered an army of seven thousand men. A halo of poetic beauty clings around this noble tree — the " Indian fig" of Milton — 11 Whose bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillard shade High over -arched, and echoing walks between." Here is a noble specimen of the cedar of Lebanon — a beautiful tree three feet in diameter, with rough dark bark, knotty and gnarled, sending out long, crooked, irregular branches, covered with pine-like leaves of a dark sombre green. The grand old tree looks doubly beautiful from its connection with the sacred writings, its native home on that hallowed mountain in sight of which the greatest events of the world have transpired, and its precious wood being one of the chief ingredients of that splendid temple, so long the pride and glory of Jerusalem. The cedar is the most sacred of plants — the Scripture emblem of beauty, power, and wealth, and the chosen companion of the cypress and the willow in the peaceful resting places of the dead. In the gardens are two extensive museums, where are many vegetable curiosities from different parts of the world. Among them is a model in wax of a plant without stem or leaves, except mere scales, a parasite hanging on the roots or stems of a vine in Sumatra. It is only a mon- strous flower, three feet in diameter, and weighing from twelve to fifteen pounds — a large lily-like cup, with white petals. Among other things is a thick, daik-colored, jointed SAVAGES. 75 cane, some three inches in diameter, and seven feet long, called the Juruparis, or devil's musical instrument, used by the Indians on the Ilio Uapes, a branch of the Rio Negro, in South America. It may claim a moment's notice, on account of illustrating the extreme degrada- tion to which the human mind is capable of descending among barbarous tribes. The following description is copied from a card attached to the reed: "It is very sacred. No woman must see it on any account, and if she happens to get a glimpse of it, she is at once put to death, usually by poison. No youths are permitted to use it till they are prepared by fasting and scourging. It is kept hid in the bed of some stream deep in the forest, at which none dare drink or bathe. At feasts they are brought out after night, and played outside the house." CHAPTER XIV. SPURGEON — HIS AUDIENCES — METHOD IN SERVICE — CHAR- ACTER OP HIS ORATORY — HIS PRAYER — EFFECT ON THE AUDIENCE HIS SERMON — POETIC EXPRESSIONS — REV. PUNSHON — HIS ELOQUENCE — PICTURE OF THE OUTWARD WORLD — FREE GRACE. " He takes his harp, Nor needs to seek befitting phrase; unsought Numbers harmonious roll along the lyre; As river inlits native bed, they flow Spontaneous flowing with the tide of thought."— Pollock. IN a beautiful Sabbath evening, my American friend and myself strolled over Westminster Bridge to the Surrey side ot the Thames, to hear a sermon by the Rev. Spurgeon,* perhaps the leading pulpit orator of the world. He is a minister of the Baptist persuasion, and his name is as familiar in America as those of our own great preachers. His chapel — the Metropolitan Tabernacle — is a vast elliptical room, with two galleries completely encircling it, capable of holding nearly seven thousand people. * Charles Haddon Spurgeon, born June 19th. 1834. 76 SPURGEON. In person he is small, not prepossessing, and in spite of my prejudice in his favor, I failed to detect in his exterior the indications of gigantic powers. His fore- head is not remarkably high nor very full, his lips are naturally parted when in repose, his eyes sparkle with a flash of living fire, and his features are expressive of an earnest, honest nature, rather than of that supernal power of thought and utterance, that charms the myriads of London, and makes his name a household word through all enlightened lands. So great is the spell with which he holds his audience, that the vast amphitheatre is crowded to its utmost capacity, not only occasionally, not merely for a few weeks or months, but year after year, three times every week, a ceaseless tide of human life is pouring towards the sanctuary, and long before the hour the spacious portico, the open yard, and often the adja- cent street, are crowded with an anxious throng, impatient for admission. When the doors are thrown open, five minutes before the hour, those holding tickets having been previously admitted at side entrances, the surging mass sweeps in and pours along the narrow aisles ; every seat is filled, every spot of available standing room is occupied, and often hundreds, and sometimes thousands, unable to gain admission, turn their steps reluctantly from the enchanter's hall, and murmur that the^ are denied partaking for the hundreth time of the luxurious repast. His practice is to read a chapter with a running com- mentary, in which he expatiates freely on the subject matter, not confining himself to the religious features of the text, but throwing in a frequent allusion to the litera- ture of the Scriptures, or an illustration from the manners and circumstances of those early times to verify the sacred record; not always sternly adhering even to serious remark, but occasionally using an expression, which, were it not around the sacred altar, would half provoke a smile. One distinguishing feature of his powerful oratory is its wonderful simplicity j he seems to expand the mind of the listener till he is able to grasp a mighty thought, and follow a train of reasoning, which, under ordinary speakers, would far transcend his powers. HIS ORATORY, 77 At first plain and easy in his manner, he arrests the entire attention of his audience, and a living silence per- vades the vast assembly, but as he proceeds and warms with his subject, the wondrous powers of his mind begin gradually to develope themselves, the beauties and the graces of oratory gently cluster around their favorite ; common words and phrases seem to assume new strength and meaning beneath the magic of his voice, brilliant imagery plays from point to point, revealing hidden beauties like lightning flashes on a summer cloud, the fountains of history and science are opened and pour a mingled stream of beauty and instruction, a glowing panorama of nature and religion ever passes in review before the mental vision, flashes of original thought, bright, beautiful and bold, dart from the exhaustless fountains of his intellect and shed a dazzling lustre round, while the spell-bound audience hang in trembling interest on his words, and yield their minds to full belief, obedient to his powerful sway. In his prayer he produced some most eloquent passages. In an impassioned appeal to all to praise the Lord, he went into a most beautiful amplification of Milton's im- mortal Morning Hymn. He called upon the beasts and the birds, upon the thunder and the earthquake, upon the gentle breezes and the crashing tempest, to sound forth a note of praise, and upon man, the crown and the glory of the creation, to make melody within his heart, and to lay his fingers upon the strings of the harp, to utter the praise which a mortal could offer to a Being of infinite attributes. His text led him into an eloquent practical sermon on the necessity of energy and perseverance in whatever we undertake, and especially in religious duties. " He did it with all his heart aud prospered." 1 Chron. 31 : 21. He drew a Startling picture of insincerity in religion. As well might you dance upon the altar, or dabMe the garments of the harlot in the blood of the Paschal Lamb, as approach the sacred mysteries of religion with a hollow-hearted insincerity. In his powerful personifications of the Deity and the 78 SPURGEON. Holy Spirit, in his thrilling picture of the sufferings of Christ, as an example of zeal and perseverance in a good cause, and the terrors of the final judgment, which the painted in colors fearfully vivid, his language, his ideas, his whole manner of tone, gesture and countenance be- came so exceedingly animated, so thrilling, so inspiring, that he sported at will with the feelings of his audience, and fired up every thing capable of combustion in the mass of mind around him. His language is highly figu- rative, pouring along like a copious stream, always full but never overflowing; he is so plain and simple a child can understand him, so eloquent and sublime the most intellectual mind can find nothing more to desire for the perfection of pulpit oratory. He referred to Mahomet as an example of a man who did a thing with all his heart and prospered. He estab- lished his system of of false religion, not by giving out a few dilatory precepts in a drawling manner to a sleepy audience, but by being fully and perfectly awake and in earnest, by throwing every energy of his mind into the propagation of what he fully believed to be a revela- tion from Heaven, and his followers, catching his enthusi- asm, swore that they would convert the Gentile world to the true faith by the persuasive eloquence of the sword, and engaged in the pious work with the air and mien of men who felt that everything depended on their success. The history of the Catholic Church is another illustra- tion of the immense results of a determined perseverance. "When Francis Xavier went out to preach the gospel to the heathen, he took his life in his hand, and considered it of no value compared with the work he had in view. When encountered by opposition he never yielded to discouragements, but ever renewed his efforts, and at last he gained a foothold among the wild children of nature, raised the cross in the East Indies, preached the gospel in China, penetrated into the then almost fabulous regions of Japan, and wherever he passed among a people who before had been sunk in the grossest idolatry, he left the cross planted by the wayside, and crowds of humble sup- pliants kneeling in adoration to the sacred emblem. ZEAL IN RELIGION. 79 Xavier was a thunderbolt that startled the nations by his powerful energy, a flash of lightning that darted across the moral firmament, and arrested the gaze of all who caught its glare, till he forced conviction by the irresist- ible earnestness of his nature and the overpowering energy of his mind. And let these two men, who so eminently prospered, by doing their work with all their heart, in establishing their respective systems, fraught with error, and deformed with folly, be examples to us who are laboring in a higher and a nobler cause. The man who is fully awake to his duty will not faint by the wayside, but, fixing his gaze upon the summit of yon almost inaccessible mountain, determines to scale its sub- lime heights and receive the prize which there awaits him. Careless though he be alone, though all men forsake him, though the congregation sink into drowsy imbecility he but addresses himself the more resolutely to the combat, and presses forward with renewed zeal. Some- times, in clambering up a precipice, a treacherous stone betrays his foot, and he falls to the bottom • he rubs the dust from his eyes and essays the ascent once more. Some- times he finds an easy path and he runs, then it becomes more steep and he is compelled to walk, then greater difficulties oppose him and he is obliged to crawl upon his hands and feet^ and when even this is impracticable he is content to work himself up by clasping with his hands whatever he can lay hold on. What though he should grasp a briar and press the thorns into his quiver- ing flesh ! What though his foot be bruised by a falling stone ! his aim is onward aud upward, and he is content to make progress even though it be in pain. At each discomfiture he presses forward to the conflict again, and his watchword is, Now for God, for religion, and my duty ! At last his feet stand upon an even place, and he has attained the object of his desire. And then in an impassioned appeal to the Most High, and with a masterly personification, he asked for ability on the part of himself and the audience, to engage in the cause of religion with all the devotion of the heart, that prosperity might attend our zeal. In speaking of 80 REV. PUNSHON. the flight of time he compared the slow lapse of days in our childhood with their swift career in later life, and closed thus, " But how our weeks spin around us now ! how our years go hissing through the air, and leave a track as of a burning brand ! " London boasts another preacher of superior powers. His name is Punshon, a member of the Wesleyan Church. I heard him preach a sermon, combining in a high degree the merits of grace and ornament, of glowing language and highly poetic figures, of pathos, feeling and power j his text, " Giving thanks unto the Father, who hath made us meet for an inheritance among the saints in light." He does not, like Spurgeon, plunge down at once to the bottom of the heart, and carry power and conviction with strong and powerful sketches, but com- pletely enraptures you with his oriental splendor of imagery, and the glowing fluency of his diction, his ideas flowing onward in a copious stream, glittering and spark- ling in the sunlight of fancy ; his language, like the magic power of a kaleidoscope, giving a beauty and a delicacy to whatever comes within its influence. His vivid appreciation of the beautiful in nature, and his touching pictures of religious duties, of the atoning sacrifice, and the Father's kind indulgence, led captive the mind with the magic of enchantment, and lured it on by the power of his oratory to see new beauties in a life of holiness, new harmonies in the records of salvation, and new inducements to adore the Great First Cause of all. He drew a picture of the outward world, full of life and beauty. It is not a prison house where the soul is detained in gloom and sadness, forbidden to partake of the pleasant things so bountifully placed before us ; it is not a fleeting show for man's illusion given, which secretes a venomous sting under every rose, and a viper's fang in every bower ; it has not a fiery sword waving over the green fields and flowery valleys, and a rigid interdiction guarding every avenue to a gratification of the senses ; but it is a theatre of beauty and loveliness, liberally supplied with everything the mind can conceive that will PICTURE OF OUTWARD WORLD. 81 administer happiness and enjoyment. Its flowery vales were never meant to be the haunts of morbid gloom and moping melancholy ; its glorious forests were not designed to resound with the sighs and groans of the solitary re- cluse, who, abusing or despising the bounties of Provi- dence, has fostered a morbid misanthropy ; its laughing streams, dancing and sparkling amid the gaudy flowers, and its joyous birds warbling forth their melodious songs, and sporting from tree to tree, were not meant to be con- signed to the companionship of the sour and sordid hermit, and its glorious canopy of clouds, flashing with every hue reflected light can give, but illy harmonizes with the doleful gloom of monkish superstition, and that cheerless religion that would make this world a home of privations and crosses, of trials and tribulations. No ! the earth is a golden temple, replete with beauty, and abounding with ornament; God has made it a very Alhambra of glory and splendor, and has thus taught us that he designs us for rational enjoyment, and while we are to look for a yet higher and more enduring home, we are not to treat with contempt the glories that surround us here. He then gave a most happy illustration of the free grace of the Father, and the cordial invitation that is given us to partake with thankfulness of the rich bless- ings provided for our use. It is the Father who hath made us meet for an inheritance among the saints in light. It is not the school teacher, who receives with general kindness the children of his patron friends, and instructs them for wages in the accomplishments of life and the beauties of nature; it's the Father, who unfolds the enrapturing wonders of creation to the minds of his tender babes, with the winning invitation, " Consider the lilies of the field ; they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these :" It is not the judge, who sternly releases the culprit because the evidence is barely insufficient to convict him, it's the Father, who welcomes the returning wanderer with outstretched arms, and in kindest and most affectionate tones, graciously counsels him, " Go, and sin no more : " It is not the 82 FREE GRACE. master, who coldly accepts the services you have rendered as an equivalent for the hire he has paid you, it's the Father, who generously gives you the good things in store for his children, and pronounces the heavenly bless- ing, " Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord : " It is not 'the ffriend, who receives you with kind politeness, and formally treats you to the best his house affords, it's the Father, who runs to meet you while you are yet afar off, enfolds you in the arms of paternal affection, kills for you the fatted calf, and bestows upon you with all the exuberance of a Father's love, the rich inheritance of eternal life, " Giving thanks unto the Father : who hath made us meet for an inheritance among the saints in light." CHAPTER XV. HAMPTON COURT — GUARD CHAMBER — PICTURES — STATE ROOMS — QUEEN'S BED-CHAMBER — WEST'S PAINTINGS — ROYAL BEDS — RAPHAEL'S CARTOONS — TASTE FOR PAINTING — GREAT HALL OF WOLSEY — TAPESTRY — MAZE. "Scenes must be beautiful, whieh often viewed Please always, and whose novelty survives Long knowledge, and the scrutiny of years "—Cticptr. pAMPTON Court was for a long time the royal residence. It stands on the north bank of the Thames, in the county of Middlesex, twelve miles due west from Hyde Park Corner. The Palace is a long pile of lofty brick buildiDgs, with a uniform and beautiful i'ront to the south, situated in a park laid out with the utmost taste, and ornamented with trees and shrubbery disposed along gravel walks, with marble foun- tains and artificial basins of water, with long canals and murmuring waterfalls, with exquisite statuary and iron paled enclosures, bloomiDg with flowers and cheered with the music of birds. The interior of the Palace is a long suite ot rooms, HAMPTON COURT. 83 kindly thrown open to the free use of the public, and em- bellished with over a thousand paintings, many common- place, many very fine, and a few of transcendent excellence. The entrance to the state apartment is by the King's grand staircase, a magnificent flight of marble steps that leads to the Guard Chamber. The ceiling of thii hall is beautifully painted with allegorical figures, in the florid style of Verrio. From this apartment a long succession of rooms, being one continued picture gallery, leads winding about through the palace. The pictures are mostly of creditable workmanship, but a large majority are portraits of the Duchess So-and-so, or His Grace, or His Highness This or That; or other gilded baubles of a diseased and corroded society, instead of persons who are worthy of remembrance, and have wrought for themselves a claim on the respect of posterity. In several of the rooms the ceilings are gorgeously painted. In the Queen's bed-chamber is a beautiful allegorical representation of Night and Morning. On one end of the ceiling is Night, personified by a goddess ; around her nymphs are sporting in the clouds by the dim light of the moon, while stars are sparkling in the sky ; at the other end Morning is hovering o'er the mists of the Ocean, and the hours are drawing aside the cur- tain that screened Aurora from view, who is making her appearance in her radiant chariot, with a countenance bright with smiles, and diffusing joy and gladness over the whole assembly. The room is encircled by a zone of ■brilliant flowers, boquets and shrubs of various kinds. Another ceiling represents Queen Anne as Justice, holding her soales and surrounded by Mercy, Charity and Love, pleading for a group of criminals who kneel before her. In this room are many of the paintings of West : Regulus's departure from Rome, the Apotheosis of William the Taciturn, and many other gems of priceless value and surpassing beauty. In some of the rooms the edges of the ceiling are arched, on which are painted gods and heroes of antiquity, supporting the canopy above them with pillars, scrolls and other ornaments. Pictures by Rubens, Titian, and a host of others, whose 84 RAPHAEL'S CARTOONS. names stand high upon the roll of fame, adorn these royal halls, and make it an attractive place to the lover of refinement. The funeral pall, for the "lying in state" of the bodies of great men after death, is in the public dining room. It is a rich and gorgeous canopy of black silk velvet, lined with silver, with a cloth of gold at the head, on which is suspended a wreath, wrought with many curious devices, with a cylinder of upright spears on either hand, and silver tablets and candle stands sitting around, The beds of the Royal family are hung with the richest silk and damask curtains, embroidered with most exqui- site fringes in needle work, and a canopy of blue, gilded with stars, adorns these splendid couches where Royalty reposes its aching head. Stools, tablets, and toilet stands, cushioned and gilt, arc disposed around the rooms. The splendor would banish sleep save from the eyes of these pampered lordlin^s, and slumber is here no sweeter, no more refreshing than in the humble cottage where health and competence abound, where the ties of domestic at- tachment know not the alloy of ceremony, and the pageantry of power is all unknown. The most precious treasures in these royal halls are Raphael's Cartoons, which are kept in a room prepared expressly for their reception. Like all other artistic pro- ductions, these great Cartoons derive their highest beauty from the play of a lively fancy in the beholder; for of what avail is all the artist's skill, if he canrrot touch a kindred cord of feeling and refinement, and awaken those electric fires of sympathetic fancy, that play from mind to mind along the wires of genius. The cattle graze amid the mountain peaks, or on the sandy plain, with equal unconcern, they crop alike the lily and the weed. So the blank and vapid mind, which is Warmed not by the fires of fancy, would look alike with vacant gaze upon the gaudy flash of passionless Dutch amateurs, or on a canvas glowing with the warmest tints of Titian or Correggio. The savage, untutored in the school of science, looks with a cold and unmeaning gaze on nature's works, he THE ARTIST'S LOVE OF NATURE. 85 recognizes not the spirit that pervades her every produc- tion, for him no glowing robe of beauty invests his forest home, no notes of angelic harmony fall like spirit voices on his mental ear, no angel of inspiration hovers round to direct his inward vision to the Source of all, to touch his heart with the tendering influences of nature's perfect harmony, to point him to the depths of thought and feel- ing which her works inspire, and raise his thoughts on high. How different the prospect to an enlightered mind. To him each flower that blooms along his pathway of life is the agent of a Being of infinite perfections ; to him each note from grove or meadow, from the murmur of the rippling streamlet to u the organ tones of Heaven's cathedral," speaks the voice of ethereal harmony, and inspires him to attune more perfectly his heart to sound a harmonious note in the ever-rising anthem of the world of life around him; and when spring spreads her mantle of sweets over the face of reviving nature, to his ear the melody of her mystic choir sounds the notes of a more than earthly harmony, to his eye her forms and hues assume the image of supernal dignity and grace, and Beauty's self personified, with all her graces, all her glories on, blooms brilliantly around the land and breathes in every bower. A work of genius is ever a fund of profitable thought, a mine of deep reflection. Like the works of nature, the more they are examined the more their beauties un- fold themselves to view. We cannot grasp at once the nice design and complex beauty of a flower, its fine perfec- tions open out upon us by slow and gradual degrees. Just so it is in contemplating a master-work of genius. Raphael's Cartoons require inspection to realize their beauty, they demand inspection as a tribute to their worth, and yet they defy inspection by the masses, for their beauties and excellences are so numerous, so various, and so refined, that none but a master mind can fully comprehend them. They are becoming somewhat dim and dingy with the lapse of more than three centuries. They are seven in number, representing scenes in the life of Christ and hie 86 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Apostles. The largest would measure about twelve feet by twenty. The strength and vigor of the action, the expressive attitudes and countenances, the elegance of coloring, the grace and harmony of design, the propriety and splendor of decorations in the backgrounds and side scenes, attest the fervor of fancy which glowed within his burning mind, when contemplating the strange occur- rences of those eventful days. And yet it is perhaps impossible to convey to others, by the pencil or the pen, the full perfection of those glowing visions which spring up to life and action in our minds, when calling up our bright ideals of the great and mighty past. How vivid then must have been the creations of those master minds, whose great conceptions, revealed through the bungling agency of the pencil, divested of the living spirit, and reduced to the mere material representations of their bright originals, have yet through all these dis- advantages, attracted the attention and fixed the admira- tion of the world ! Raphael died at the age of thirty- seven (1520), leaving a name which the world has decided to place at the very head of her honored painters. The Great Hall of Cardinal Wolsey is the finest room in the building. It is in the Grothic style ; the roof is elaborately carved and richly decorated with the arms and badges of Wolsey arid Henry VIII. It is a triple arch,, with elongated pendants hanging from the points of intersection, and supported with a complicated system of ribs and stays, gilded and carved with exquisite skill. The walls are hung with antique arras tapestry, divided in eight compartments, with a rich border of arabesque designs. In each division is a scene in the life of Abra- ham. The windows are of stained glass, and the subdued and softened ligjit, tinted with the mellow hues of even- ing, falling on this scene of gorgeous splendor, produces a beautiful effect. The withdrawing room, adjoining the great hall, is also hung with tapestry very old and decaying, and divided like the other into different compartments by orna mental borders. In one of these is a scene representing Fame seated on a car, drawn by elephants and attended GREAT HALL OF WOLSEY. 87 by warriors; behind her is another car, in which Time' is drawn by four flying horses; over these are the signs of the Zodiac, and the Hours in swift flight. The other divisions are of equally poetic allegorical designs. A carved oak mantlepiece of peculiar beauty, on which sits a portrait of Wolsey ; a beautiful oriel window, and a statue of Yenus reclining on a couch, are the chief additional features of this room. In the Park is the Maze, a plot of ground about one- fourth of an acre in extent ; two trees stand near the centre, only a few feet from the entrance gate. It is set with an intricate system of hedgerows encircling a small open space around the trees, and the winding paths by which alone they can be reached is nearly a fourth of a mile in length. It requires the greatest care to avoid losing your way, and is no easy matter tG extricate your self if once you become bewildered in the labyrinth. CHAPTER XVI. SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM — WREN'S MODEL OE ST. PAUL'S. — WATT'S STEAM ENGINE — BEATING GOLD — DR. JOHNSON . AND LORD CHESTERFIELD— SOUTH SEA BUBBLE — PLAY SCENE IN HAMLET — EAST INDIA MUSEUM — ROYAL APART- MENT — INDIAN THRONE. " The pencil is man's teacher. It unfolds Rich treasures to his search, unseals his eye, Illumes his mind, and purifies his heart." — Street. "'Tig painting's first chief business to explore'! What lovely~forms in nature's boundless store Are best to Art and ancient taste allied : For ancient taste these forms has best supplied." — Da Fresnoy* fJWSOUTH Kensington Museum was founded by Prince ^?feq Albert, and was chiefly designed for the benefit jlSSb of the working classes. Though far inferior to the British Museum, it is well worth a visit. It contains among many other things, a large collection of mechanical and scientific objects, models of machinery, chemical 88 SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. 'analysis of different articles of food, illustrations of vari- ous manufactures, pins, needles, gold leaf, Damascus steel, &c; models of buildings, ancient and modern; a fine gallery of paintings, and a large collection of agricultural products. My Yankee friend and I prolonged our stay among its rich collections much longer than we expected. Here we found Sir Christopher Wren's original model of St. Paul's — an immense square, with the corners deeply circled out. The dome was supported by the internal angles, where enormous arches sprung from wall to wall, and the effect of the building when completed would have been grand and imposing in the extreme. It was not divided into a nave and side aisles, by those rows of monstrous pillars which add to the complexity, and detract from the apparent size of the interior. It is related of Sir Christopher, that he insisted with warmth and energy on the adoption of this plan by the board of managers, and when they gave their positive dissent, and declared their determination to follow the old beaten path of church architecture, and deform the glorious structure they were about to erect with the unsightly appendages of massive columns, the great architect was so chagrined that he burst into tears. Yet he did the best that could be done with the plan to which his genius was fettered, and the result is the glory of London. In the mechanical department, the most interesting object is the first steam engine erected by Watt, in 1785, at Soho, near Birmingham — a strange looking affair beside the engines of the present day. It is called the sun and planet engine. On the fly-wheel shaft is a wheel with sockets for cogs to work in, and from the rocking beam descends a shaft, having a wheel attached, called the planet, to work in the first, which is called the sun, around .which it revolves and gives motion to the fly-wheel. Among the mechanical processes, that of beating gold- leaf deserves a passing notice, as it is generally but little understood. Gold is beaten by hand, between layers of the peritoneal membrane of the ox, two thicknesses of which are laid together to form a leaf, and many alternate layers of gold and membrane are beaten at once. The THE ARISTOCRAT AND THE NOBLEMAN. 89 membrane is very costly; a book of it sometimes brings forty-eight dollars. It is almost entirely unaffected by violent and long continued hammering, which fits it for this purpose beyond any other article known. In the picture gallery, I lingered long before a few choice paintings. Among them, Dr. Johnson awaiting an audience of Lord Chesterfield, by Ward, holds a promi- nent place. The rustic looking Doctor, great by his own intrinsic merit, yet rough and unpolished in appearance, nobly contrasts with the. proud aristocrat, great by the tinsel of wealth and the accident of birth ; the one by the natural powers of his giant mind, rising up from obscurity, and arresting the attention of a wondering world, has taken a permanent possession of that high station to which merit alone entitles him ; the other placed prominently before society, yet possessing nothing to retain the gaze which vanity or flattery fixes on him, is soon forgotten, and the tide of adulation is turned toward his next successor in title, too often equally unworthy of esteem. Literature knows no hereditary descent of titles. It fixes the crown of honor on those whom ability, and not gold, has distinguished from the common herd of men. The South Sea Bubble, also by Ward, is a very supe- rior work. The excited capitalists of the day are listening with intense emotion to the reports of the golden harvests reaped from the rich fields of speculation in the glittering islands of the Southern Ocean, as they are read by one of the secretaries in a room of the South Sea House. The play-scene in Hamlet is a masterpiece. The terror and remorse of the King and Queen, as the horrid tragedy of their guilt is enacted on the secondary stage ; the sav- age scowl of Hamlet as he lies in counterfeit madness at the feet of his lady-love, looking in wild excitement at their conscience-stricken countenances; the pensive grief of Ophelia at the supposed mental derangement of her lover; the general semblance of life and reality diffused over the canvas, and the beauty and elegance of the col- oring, make it one of the highest works of art. Ophelia twining her garlands, is a fit companion to this beautiful work. The pensive countenance of the lovely girl, as she 8* 90 EAST INDIA MUSEUM. sits on a mossy bank, weaving; a wreath of flowers and lost in the abstractions of her rambling intellect, is finely portrayed, and does credit to the artist. In the East India Museum is exhibited an extensive collection of Indian curiosities, natural and artificial — beasts, birds, fish, insects, and reptiles; most elaborate carving in wood and marble ; precious stones of enormous value ; gold and silver wrought into kingly ornaments, and examples of Oriental luxury in textile fabrics; car- pets and shawls of unequaled workmanship, muslins, silks, and linens, embroidered with gold and silver lace, and wrought with the brilliant wings of beetles, set in ex- quisitely rich and beautiful patterns, with a care and nicety of labor that mock the utmost skill bestowed upon the wardrobes of the rich in western climes. The dress entire of India's Queen is here exhibited, and all I had ever imagined of gorgeous splendor in drapery, fades away and vanishes into tame and simple neatness, compared with the flashing radiance of these brilliant robes. An apartment is also fitted up in imitation of a royal palace, with a wax king reclining on an ottoman, sur- rounded by the emblems of royalty, plumes of peacock feathers, robes of state, divans of luxurious make, silken screens, and damask curtains of purple, green, and blue, richly embroidered, and glowing with the most profuse and dazzling splendor, offering a scene which the royalty of England cannot rival. The state chair, or throne, much more graceful than the English, is apparently of solid gold set with diamonds, and elegantly cushioned. It is in imitation of a large sea-shell supported by dolphins, with spray breaking against its base, and naiads sporting around its brim. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 91 CHAPTER XVII. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS IN ENGLAND — PANTOMIMES — OLD MOTHER HUBBARD AND HER WONDERFUL DOG — SCENERY OF THE STAGE — WILL-O'-THE-WISP'S HOME BENEATH THE WATERFALL — GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE — CHEMI- CAL LIGHTS. "All the world 's a stage, And all the men and women merely actors." — As You Like It. "All that the imagination could conceive of beauty was comprised in that one gorgeous, glorious vision." — Pitttnger. "t^-fyN" England, the Christmas holidays are observed Kmj§l| with a zeal unknown in our western climes. Each f its most prominent features, assumes the most elegant formS, now hanging in clustering folds from the crown of a noble (DO O pillar, and now sending a delicate tendril creeping along the decaying wall to meet an ofishoot from a neighbor- ing window, or wreathing the delicate lattice with a tracery of living green, it throws a mantle of surpassing beauty over this relic of the olden time, mingling the freshness of youth with the pallor of age, and making it glorious in its decay. A short distance above Tintern is the romantic water- fall of Llandogo. A beautiful little stream, while running its merry race, comes suddenly to a wild gorge on the brow of a shaggy hill, falling with a very steep declivity to the meadows which border the Wye beneath. Down this rocky defile the little rivulet plunges with headlong speed, leaping from crag to crag in the hurry of its course, now hiding for an instant beneath a tuft of grass, or a cluster of moss-covered rocks, then peeping out again, it sparkles for a moment in the sunbeam that comes struggling through the canopy of trees, and again darts down another steep, dancing and laughing in sportive glee, till it finally reaches the plain beneath, and goes murmuring on to the beautiful Wye, with its tribute of crystal wealth. But I must leave this home of poetic beauty, this land where the Fairies might dwell, and the Muses retire from the groves of Arcadia. My affections have clustered around the beauties of this fair land ; they have twined themselves with the ivy that clings to the Abbey walls; they linger in the shady dells where sparkles the mur- muring Wye; they hover on the mountain tops where the glorious prospect spreads afar ; and they mingle with 12* 138 DEPARTURE FROM THE WYE. deep regrets that this land must be seen no more. Yet amid these beautiful scenes, the eye of the mind instinct- ively turns to a land more serenely fair, that rises beyond the western wave, .where the evening twilight lingers ; where my truest affections repose ; where the Genius of Progress has fixed his abode, and the Goddess of Liberty folded her wings to rest. CHAPTER XXIV. STRATFORD-ON-AVON — SHAKSPEARE MANSION — HIS NATIVE ROOM HIS PORTRAIT SHAKSPEARE RELICS SHAKSPEARE GAR- DENS — REV. (?) GASTRELL — CHURCH OP THE HOLY TRINITY SHAKSPEARE'8 GRAVE REGISTER OF HIS BIRTH TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY. " He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced. Where Fancy halted, weary in her flight In other men, lias freshias morning rose And soared untrodden heights, and seemed at home Where angels bashful looked." — Pollok. "And sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child, Warbled his native wood notes wild." — Milton. jSUIUNG the spring I took occasion to visit the inl little village of Stratford-on- Avon, the birth-place, ^£#> home, and death-scene of the great and immortal Shakspeare. Perhaps it is little less than sacrilege, thus to intrude my diminutive nature into the arena where lived, and loved, and sung this greatest of the sons of men, whose fame irradiates yon antique church, shooting upward its pointed spire from' the resting place of his mortal body, with a lustre that far transcends the splendor of St- Peter's or St. Paul's. The place of his birth is a quaint old mansion on Hen- ley street, with gothic windows and a double door divided horizontally, standing immediately on the street without a yard in front ; a heavy frame with the intervals filled with masonry. On ringing the bell, an elderly lady of very pleasant countenance answered my call, and I was shakspeare's birthplace. 139 ushered into the kitchen of that rustic old building ; a small and rough apartment with plastered walls. A small room has been partitioned from one corner, but otherwise it is as nearly as possible the same as when the poet-boy held his youthful frolics in its plain enclosure. From this room we pass into another small apartment, with a large old-fashioned fire-place. In each chimney corner stands a carved arm-chair; in the back of one is cut the date 1608, and they look like the very abode of social comfort and convivial freedom, in the good old times, when men were free to live and act and speak as nature prompted, and mutual respect dictated. From this room we ascended a winding stairway to the upper story, and I was ushered into the self-same apart- ment where William Shakspeare first drew breath, on the 23d of April, 1564. This apartment, a rough square room, with plastered walls and ceiling completely covered with names, and which is not high enough for a tall man to stand erect, claims to be one of the chief localities of England. Here are several articles of ancient furniture, but they are wisely not even claimed to be identified with the time of Shakspeare, except an old-fashioned writing desk of oak, curiously carved, "which is known to have belonged to one of his friends/' and hence the probability is that he has often seen and handled it. We now passed out into a kind of attic, and through this into another bedroom, where is the famous portrait of the poet lately discovered, in the dress and color of his age. It was found some time since by an artist while searching among the old rubbish in a gentleman's man- sion of Stratford. On clearing away the dirt the old picture came out in good preservation. It was completely restored, and is now considered the most perfect and reli- able likeness of the poet extant. It is set in a heavy frame, said to be made from the fragments of his house at New Place, and enclosed in a massive iron sale, with heavy doors and double and intricate lock, making it damp-proof, fire-proof, and burglar-proof. Every night it is locked as carefully as if it contained the Ko-hi-noor. Close by the picture hangs a deed given to the poet for a 140 SHAKSPEARE RELICS. house and lot in Stratford, and this, also, there can be no doubt, he has seeja and handled. At the back of the house is a garden laid out in very tasteful style ; it contains no plant which is not mentioned in his works, and the catalogue is nearly full. A wall divides the garden from the street at the back, in which is a double iron gate, surmounted by Shakspeare's family crest — a falcon and spear. Here, then, the Bard of Avon first drew breath ; here his little feet pattered and danced in the fervor of childish joy; here his wonderful mind first opened to the enchant- ing beauties and sublimities of that world both of matter and mind, which he afterwards portrayed with such a master hand, and into whose mysterious depths he looked with a searching gaze not given to the ordinary man, and discovered new beauties and profound depths of intellectual wealth, which before had lain hid in the unsearchable mysteries of nature. In another building a collection of Shakspeare relics are exhibited, directly or remotely connected with his personal history; a bust copied from the one in the church, which is known to have been in the family as early as 1623 ; around the head is a segment of a circle, inscribed with the words from Hamlet, " We shall not look upon his like again;" a chest once the property of Anne Hathaway ; a small chair belonging to their only son Hamnet, twin brother to one of their daughters, and who died at twelve years of age ; a piece of his mulberry tree, and other articles. They were formerly in the house where he was born, but the old lady in charge having received notice to leave, carried them with her. She maliciously whitewashed the walls, which were literally covered with names in pencil or scratched on the plaster, thus effacing the autographs of many men of great celeb- rity, but as a recompeuse also blotting out a countless host of Smiths, and Browns, and Joneses, and Simpletons, who had audaciously intruded their worthless autographs upon these honored walls, where the one great name whose lustre obscures all others, is inscribed in imperishable memory. ENTHUSIASM VERSUS GASTRELLISM. 141 Shakspeare's garden is now a vacant lot. Here ; on his return from London with a competence, for those early times, he built a mansion and spent the evening of his life ; and this chosen home of a poet received the in- tensely prosaic name of JVew Place ! He laid out his gardens, probably in the prevailing style of the period, and planted a mulberry tree with his own hand, which grew and flourished, and became a great tree, that the fairies and graces of poetry might lodge in .the branches thereof, and for many years, after the world awoke to a consciousness of the powers of that great mind, this garden, this house, and this tree, were among the most cherished mementoes of this illustrious town. About 1752 the property fell into the hands of an Episcopal clergyman named Gastrell. He had no capacity within his pigmy soul to cherish or admire that tree, illustrated by its great gardener ; yet others, of finer minds and warmer natures, came in crowds to pay their homage at the shrine of Shakspeare's home. He did not, occupy the house, but was assessed for the taxes upon it. From these annoyances he had but one means of escape. He ordered the tree cut down and the house torn away ; when he thrust the tax money in his dirty pocket, and exulted in his freedom from the importunity of visit- ers, whose warm enthusiasm he could not comprehend. Why slept the vengeance of the sacred Nine ? Why did not Apollo launch his shaft and lay the vile intruder low ? His flock, enraged by the deed, expelled him from their midst. He left in disgrace ; but this did not restore the honored tree, did not rebuild the venerated house. The church of the Holy Trinity where he lies buried, is an antique building, dating from the fifteenth century. A square tower overtops the walls, from which shoots up a spire, tapering gradually to a point. A grove of shady trees surrounds the gray old building, and an avenue of graceful limes forms a fine arched walk, leading from the entrance' gate to the door. Just at this time when they are arraying themselves in their summer garb, while yet the freshness of early spring breathes from every bough, the shade is delightfully pleasant. 142 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. On either hand numerous gravestones checker the grassy sod, where fond affection has decked the graves of those whose memories to us are totally lost, or rather whose names never lived, save in the sacred casket of domestic affection and social fellowship. There is something humil- iating in having a host of names thus obtruded upon the view, when the mind is absorbed in the reflection, that amid these scenes one of the world's great master-spirits lived and moved ; and when the thought comes home to the mind, that we too are among the throng of undistin- guished men, whose memory will be lost almost before the breath leaves the body, and no memorial more impressive than the monument which another shall erect, will remain to tell that ever we have lived. Happy they who erect their own monument, without the aid of the sculptor's art j and select for themselves a place in the world's re- nown, not trusting to the treacherous voice of Fame. The o4d records of baptisms and deaths are here pre- served, in which the sexton showed me the following : 1564. April 26. Grulielmus Alius Johannes Shakespere, baptized on the 3rd day. Then, turning over the forgotten records of many years, he showed me this : 1616. April 25th. Will Shakespere Gent. died Aprill 23rd. He also showed me the records of his parents' marriage — John Shakespere, and Mary Arden. And Shakspoare passed away, unconscious of the mighty influence he had wrought upon the human mind; uncon- scious that he had climbed to the highest pinnacle it is given to mortal man to attain, and the world, too, heeded not how great a spirit was gone ; and like Samson of old, knew not that its strength had departed, till it essayed to handle tragedy as before, when suddenly it was found TRIBUTE TO SHAKSPEARE'S MEMORY. 143 that the master magician was gone, and his wand had lost its power j that the world had passed the prime of poetic vigor, and was falling into decay. Then was the rever- ence of all men directed to the great departed ; but, alas, not till his biography had become obscured by the mists of tradition, and the memories of his life confused and indistinct, when research was almost fruitless, and deep regrets entirely unavailing. And the great Shakspeare lives alone, but lives forever, in his writings ; these are his statue ; these are the burn- ing image of his mighty mind } these are the glory of England, the admiration of the world, and the affectionate eagerness with which the least memento of his life is sought, is but a spontaneous expression on the part of posterity, of the deep regrets which all must feel, that such a life, of which the world has known but one, should be permitted to close so nearly in obscurity. And yet, Immortal Bard ! thy song is deathless ; why should we wish to pry into the secrets of that life which left such precious fruits ? Thy name is enshrined forever in the tablets of a world's remembrance ; why should we long to drag thy private life before the public gaze, which thou so modestly evaded ? Every man feels prouder of his nature, when the vastness of thy powers attest the supreme sublimity to which the human mind is capable of expanding. Thy works are an inexhaustible fountain, from which a world may drink its fill of true poetic rap- ture, and, returning, find the fountain full, all fresh and sparkling as with untasted waters; emblemed only by those wondrous glaciers on the Alpine summits, above the tread of human feet, from which descend unceasing streams of water to the thirsty fields and groves, at which the little child may sip, and the thirsty man may quaff his fill — the mysterious, yet exhaustless fount of life and health and beauty, to a wondering world below. 144 STORM PASSAGE TO IRELAND. CHAPTER XXV. STORM PASSAGE TO IRELAND — ON IRISH SOIL — IRISH PATRI- OTISM — TRIP TO PORT RUSH — ROUND TOWERS OF IRELAND — NORTHERN COAST — GIANT'S CAUSEWAY — COMPLIMENT FROM MY GUIDE — COLUMNED WALLS — DUNLUCE CASTLE. " The love of nature's works Is an ingredient in the compound man, Infused at the creation of the kind."— Cowper. mm jJUfgN" a blustering afternoon in April, I embarked from Liverpool on a storm passage to Ireland. " The wind blew as 'twa'd blawn its last," the waves howled as they raged along the sides of our little vessel, like an angry sea-nymph sweeping over the troubled waters, the whitecaps danced in the full glory of their triumph, the vessel rolled fearfully, now lifting herself up on a wave, as if about to take flight from the earth, she reeled for a moment on her treacherous footing, then down she came with a fearful plunge, dipped entirely beneath the water, and the foaming waves came roaring and rumbling over our heads, while we were snugly hatched down in our respective cabins, secure from the smallest dash of spray, and lulled to rest by this deep bass note in the melody of ocean. But as the evening advanced, the clouds broke away, the wind fell, the waves gradually subsided, the voice of the sea became milder and softer, and we eventually had a delightful passage, gliding to the leeward of the Isle of Man, whose low and gently waving shores were faintly visible in the glimmering starlight. Behind this mighty breakwater we pursued our course, with scarce a rocking of the vessel, and landed at Belfast on the morning of Easter Sunday. A thrill of joy, perhaps a flush of triumph, crossed my mind as my foot pressed the green turf of this Grem of the broad Atlantic. The beauties of that land to which so many in our country turn with longings and fond regrets, were about to be partially unfolded to my EXCURSION TO PORT RUSH, 145 view, and the realities of personal observation, and the more definite figures of memory, were now about to be substituted for the indistinct ideas which fancy had pictured to itself, when bewildered with the mystery which St. Patrick's achievements had contributed to throw around it. "No wonder," I said to myself as I sped through their flowery vales, " that the poverty-stricken exiles from this beautiful land, should send back a heavy sigh when thoughts came surging across their minds of the home they have left behind, where Oppression has set his iron heel, and Poverty stalks in his train. They were forced to abandon the land of their birth for a home where freedom is more than a name, where the labor of the poor has not been absorbed by a burdensome aris- tocracy, and no titled lordling, in his insolence of power, looks down on the laboring masses, and withers the aspirations of genius with the chill frown of contempt." Upon landing at Belfast, I hastened to the station, and took an excursion train for Port Rush. Our route lay through a lovely country, much of the way on the margin of a broad valley of singularly varied surface, being broken into numerous rough distinct hillocks of very moderate elevation ; and the fertile soil of the Emerald Isle throws up a carpet of living green, and clothes the land with a mantle of verdure in all the fresh- ness and beauty of spring, more like the June fields of our own land, than the shivering verdure of April. Along our route lay several of those mysterious buildings, the Round Towers of Ireland. A solitary isolated tower, with no building attached, and festooned with the ever beautiful ivy, rises from a mass of verdure in a field near the road. It is perforated with many small narrow windows, and terminates in a conical cap. It looks like a relic of a thousand years ago. Little is known con- cerning the origin or use of those singular structures j they are supposed to have been connected with the reli- gious rites of the mysterious Druids. From Port Rush r a beautiful walk of seven miles along a wild and craggy shore, leads to the Giant's Causeway. The coast is an exceedingly rugged wall of white colored 13 146 RUGGED COAST LINE. rocks, washed and broken by the waves into the most fantastic shapes : deep bays and narrow ravines with precipitous or overhanging sides, covered with grass to the very brink, break up from the water's edge and run far back into the land ) often an extremely steep grassy slope forming the face of the hill, which suddenly drops off in a perpendicular precipice, while sheep and goats were quietly grazing or sporting on places "Where I would not have stood stock still, For all beneath the moon;" deep basins washed out in the solid rock, with bold head- lands projecting into them, and water worn arches cut far into the bank, forming dark and frightful chasms, through which the sea has been dashing for ages, form the leading features of this wild and grotesque shore. In one place the sea has excavated a cavern fully three hundred feet into the shore, when the further end fell in forming a well of enormous depth and size, with a per- pendicular wall of stone on the land side, shooting up- ward to a dizzy height. Across the natural arch between this well and the sea, passes the public road, with a wall on either side to protect the traveler from the fearful precipice. On the sea side of the road, is also a fright- ful gorge, totally inaccessible from above, save by a steep winding path, leading down the sloping sides of broken rocks that have fallen into the well on the opposite side, and through the gloomy cavern, where the waves come surging and roaring into the narrow opening, and rever- berate in loud and prolonged echoes. In another place, a ledge of rock not more than ten feet thick, and over two hundred feet in height, projects in a straight line hundreds of feet into the sea, in which the waves have worn an oval arch, and go chasing each other as if in sport through this beautiful play-house of their own construction. Both faces are perpendicular; the rocky film is no thicker at the bottom than at the top, and a cap of green turf covers the entire surface and overhangs the narrow ledge. But we must hasten forward to the Causeway. This giant's causeway. 147 strange freak of nature had long held a prominent place in my fancy. But a moment's actual observation some- times dispels the delusion of years. Knowing that the Causeway was intimately connected with a cliff, and fail- ing to distinguish between the sublime and the wonderful, I had adopted an idea that the three pavements of the Causeway lay in terraces one above another, with a high range of columns supporting each, except the lowest, which sloped off to the sea and dipped beneath the waves ; while in truth the cliff and Causeway are entirely distinct, and if the former were entirely removed the wonder of the Giant's Pavement would not be a whit diminished, while every trace of sublimity would at once evaporate. A long winding path leads down the hill to the sea- side, where many large rocks have fallen from the heights above. On reaching the base of the cliff, you step upon the Causeway, whose general form is that of an irregular right-angled triangle, the hypothenuse of which, and the perpendicular, project into the sea, the base forming the land side. The hypothenuse is very irregular, being broken by two deep vacancies, running far into the body of the Causeway, thus forming three separate points or capes, each one projecting further into the sea than the preceding ; the first is perhaps one hundred and fifty, and the last five hundred feet long. These are the first, second, and third pavements. This space is wholly filled or paved with basaltic columns of regularly irregular crystalline forms, from four to nine sided, standing on their ends and running down an unknown depth into the ground. They are of unequal heights forming an irregular, uneven pavement, some projecting a few inches, and others many feet above their immediate neighbors. This produces a variety of accidental constructions, all of which have re- ceived distinct names, as the Lady's Chair, the Honey- comb, the Loom and the Gate. A beautiful spring of clear sweet water comes bubbling up from a crevice between the columns, a few rods from, and a few feet above high water mark. In the face of the hill to the east, a heavy slide at some early day, discloses another set of columns 148 COMPLIMENT FROM MY GUIDE. at once suggesting the idea of an organ, from its close resemblance. Every Christmas morning this organ plays the tune of St. Patrick's Day, when the Causeway dances three times round : — so goes the talk of the people, but my guide, a sensible' Irishman, said he had never got up early enough on that morning to hear it. Having seen all the prominent features of this great curiosity, I handed my guide sixpence, with the remark that I regretted not being able to give more, but my finances being very low, it was necessary to make my donations small. True to the instincts of his country, both in blarney and wit, he replied, " Oh, sir, an' this is enough, an' I'de rather go round wi' th' likes o' you for nothing, than with a gentleman" mark the emphasis, "for a shilling." Acknowledging the compliment, but with rather a bad grace suppressing my perception of the wit, I replied, not to be entirely outdone in courtesy, " And will you please, sir, to give me your name, for I may publish an- account of this visit, and if so, your name shall go to the public as my guide." " Faith, sir, indade an' I wull," says he, u my name is Archey Fall." To the east the coast falls off with a sudden bend to the south, in a series of broken precipices and deep bays, whose perpendicular walls of basaltic columns are fear- fully sublime. One of these bays is very much in the form of a bowl, with one side broken away. It is five hundred feet in depth, and the upper portion consists of a colonnade of pillars, lofty and regular, fused together at the top and bottom, the ground above being covered with a thin film of soil, and green carpet of grass. From the base of the columns a rapid slope of rocky fragments falls off towards the bottom, forming the rounding of the bowl. In other places the pillars are two stories high, being fused together at the top and bottom, and a second cornice in the middle, completely united in the same manner. These massive halls, these solemn temples of no human architecture, would be most impressively sublime, from their rocky floors, where we would be surrounded by their grand and lofty walls, and the echoes of the ocean DUNLUCE CASTLE. 149 would be caught iu their sounding galleries, and roll their awful notes of praise in harmony with the fearful grandeur of the rocky walls around us. Dunluce Castle is three miles west of the Causeway. It stands on an isolated pillar of rock, several hundred feet high, cut off from the main land by a deep narrow gorge, the only access to the ruin being across a narrow stone arch spanning the chasm. The walls follow the outline of the rocky pillar, and rise on all sides from the very brink of the precipice. Through the base of this mammoth column the sea has washed a cavern three hundred and fifty feet long, and about sixty feet high. Clambering down the hill sides into the moat, we entered the inner end of the cavern, which is partially filled with vast masses of fallen stones ; down this again we crept ,with caution and care, further and further into the gloomy abyss, till we came to the water's edge, where the scene is awfully grand. A dim, obscure, and shadowy light surrounds you, barely sufficient to make the ceiling of that mighty hall distinctly visible ; at your back, and far above you, the narrow opening through whi3h you entered, shaded by precipices on either hand, glimmers with the subdued light of day j looking seaward, through the high arched opening of the cave, the eye ranges over a wide expanse of ocean, and the waves sparkle and dance in the glittering sunbeam, ever and anon booming into this fearful cavern, and dashing over the rocks at your feet with a solemn and deafening roar. 13* 150 DESCENT FROM THE STARS, CHAPTER XXVI. DESCENT FROM THE STARS — MODERN ASTRONOMY — LORD ROSS — BIRR PARK — LORD ROSS'S MONSTER TELESCOPE — HIS WORK SHOP — CASTING HIS SPECULUM — POLISHING — MR. HUNTER — VIEW OF JUPITER THROUGH A LARGE TELESCOPE — SATURN THE MOON — GLORY OF ASTRONOMY. " Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the Heavens," — Evirett. " Oh, what a confluence of ethereal fires, From urns unnumbered, down the steep of Heaven, Stream to a point and centre on my sight." — Young. ^jHU have just returned to earth, and set my foot once » -"flJi more on terra firma, after a visit to the immediate, G^MSL vicinity of the Moon, amid her vales and moun- tains, to the neighborhood of Jupiter, enwreathed with might and majesty ; and the dim and distant regions on the confines of our system, where sweeps in solemn grandeur, all silent and alone, the complex globe of Saturn, wrapped in his wondrous garb of mystery and awe. The revelations of modern astronomy far surpass all previous comprehension, and the mighty powers which of late have been brought to bear upon the heavenly bodies, involving as they do the highest perfection of mechanics, and the utmost precision of mathematics, may well be regarded as the highest attainment to which the human mind has yet aspired. The wonders which have been disclosed to the eye and the mind by the aid " of the telescope and mathematics, constitute the proudest monuments to the greatness of man's intellectual nature. Among the many who have lent their powers to the furtherance of these investigations, both by liberal dona- tions of wealth for the construction of instruments of the highest perfection, and also by close and patient observation, and powerful searching thought, few hold a