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ENGLAND, 
 
 LITERARY AND SOCIAL, 
 
 GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/englandliterarysOOroderich 
 
ENGLAND, 
 
 LIXEEAEY AND SOCIAL, 
 
 FROM A 
 
 GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 
 
 BY 
 
 JULIUS RODENBEEG. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 KICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 Publisfjers in ©rUinarg to f^er IHajcsty. 
 
 1875. 
 

 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, 
 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHAEIKG CBOSS. 
 
AUTHOK'S PEEFACE, 
 
 The following Essays were written at various 
 times, after long and often repeated residences in 
 England. They not only reproduce impressions, 
 but also recapitulate the studies to which such 
 residences gave rise. Published originally in 
 periodicals for the most part, they have been 
 enlarged, revised, and are here for the first 
 time presented in a complete form. Unity of 
 place, object, and tone, if I may be allowed the 
 expression, lends them a certain esoteric connec- 
 tion, justifying their appearance in their present 
 form ; although they cannot claim to be considered 
 in a systematic sense as a perfect whole. 
 
 Everywhere starting from some important point 
 in 'the history of literature and education, the 
 Author of these Sketches has endeavoured to 
 seize, here and there, out of the isolated periods 
 
 334520 
 
vi AUTHORS PREFACE. 
 
 of Ed gland's development in both these pro- 
 vinces, a moment, not indeed arbitrarily, but 
 always guided by the idea of making it the central 
 point of a picture, which from the concrete offers 
 a perspective of the abstract : the people, and the 
 country of England. 
 
 Nor, if the Author has rightly delineated per- 
 sons and conditions, is the merit his, but rather 
 that of English and German inquirers, in whose 
 track he has followed : all that out of his 
 own observation he has added is simply a back- 
 ground to the landscape, some local colour, some 
 reference to the ground itself, out of which these 
 persons and conditions grew. An inexhaustible 
 pleasure has it been to him to seek out those 
 places which stood in any local connection with 
 the objects of his interest, and to mark the vicis- 
 situdes they have undergone in the lapse of cen- 
 turies. No track or corner relating to these 
 objects has he left untrodden; the whole day 
 long in the midst of the budding life of the 
 present has he sought out the traces of the 
 past; in old cathedrals, and in houses black- 
 ened with smoke; in castle and in city, by land 
 
AUTHORS PBEFAGE. 
 
 and by sea, in many a street and on many a 
 shore. 
 
 The Ocean^ which from England's coasts carries 
 the eye into an apparent infinitude, and the City, 
 which gives the impression of the strongest and 
 most strictly-defined peculiarity — the church-tower, 
 beyond which a thousand lives have never looked, 
 the immeasurable sea in which another thousand 
 lie cradled — this opposition and this interchange 
 of the old time-hallowed, fast-rooted, yea, pedantic, 
 on one side, and on the other, ever-varying, 
 fantastic, and strange, runs from its natural 
 beginning through the life, the history, the poetry 
 of England ; and I should be glad if the present 
 book reflected any of the manifold lights which 
 spring from the method of consideration I have 
 mentioned. 
 
 This work was already finished in its several 
 parts when the war of 1870 delayed further com- 
 pletion. It may be allowed to this, as to many 
 other labours of peace, to refer to the period 
 when the war interrupted them. The sickly trait 
 which the German cosmopolitism wore, almost 
 compulsorily, is eradicated — the echo of it we would 
 
viii AUTHORS PBEFAGE. 
 
 ♦ cherish. It is not the German way to shut one- 
 self up in one's own self-complacency. We would 
 progress, busy ourselves with the external world, 
 and recognise all that is great therein. But the 
 effect will be other than it once was. To us 
 also, in the widest measure, is this recognition 
 assigned, but the genius of the Grerman people will 
 prevent us losing our senses in the contemplation 
 of our own grandeur. With the consciousness 
 that we are what we now are, of our own strength 
 alone ; with the happy feeling of creation and 
 action around us, we will never deny the friend- 
 ship of earlier years, and we would see with 
 deep regret enmities prolong themselves_, whose 
 first germ lay but in the fault which Grermany, 
 with Grod's help, will avoid, in self-conceit, and 
 the want of a generous recognition of that which 
 is not German ! 
 
 Julius Eodenberg. 
 
 Eisenach, September 1872. 
 
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 A NOTICE of this work, which appeared in the 
 'Times,' in December 1872, speaks of it as one 
 of many efforts of the Author to endeavour "to 
 make his countrymen know and love England." 
 
 It appeared to the Translator that an interest 
 would be evoked in this country to read the 
 opinion which an impartial foreigner had formed 
 of some of our social and literary characteristics. 
 The papers are partly historical, partly the result 
 of personal impressions of the Author whilst a 
 tourist in England. 
 
 The Translator has left a few occasional foreign 
 modes of expression where he deemed that a 
 certain character and freshness would be lost 
 by a too literal English rendering. 
 
 Temple, 1875. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE .. .. v 
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE ix 
 
 KENT, AND THE CANTERBURY TALES .. .. 1 
 
 SHAKSPEARE'S LONDON 79 
 
 COFFEE-HOUSES AND CLUBS OF LONDON .. 137 
 
 THE JEWS IN ENGLAND 257 
 
 PICTURES OF ENGLISH HIGHROADS 341 
 
 AUTUMN ON THE ENGLISH LAKES 379 
 
2. 
 
 KENT, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE CANTERBURY TALES. 
 
The Grerman traveller in England is least likely 
 to forget his first view of Albion's earliest charms, 
 the white cliffs of Dover rising out of a fresh green 
 sea. 
 
 He treads the land of Kent with the feeling that 
 he is here treading a new land apart from all he 
 has yet seen. Other faces, other houses, other 
 landscapes, another sky, and another mode of life, 
 suddenly come before him, but withal an echo, as 
 from the distant years, brings him home. He 
 remembers that his own past greets him here, 
 thinking of those words in Camden's ' Britannia ' : 
 " Here was the first Saxon rule established in 
 Britain a.c. 456, and from them it was called 
 Cantwararyc." (Edit. Francof., p. 242.) 
 
 Where now the red banner with the blue 
 cross waves, there fluttered once the Saxon flag 
 with the white horse — the horse whose figure 
 adorned the Saxon ships as it adorns the straw 
 roofs of peasants' houses in Lower Saxony at the 
 present day, the white steed which Hengist and 
 Horsa bore on their shield, and which, through the 
 
 B 2 
 
■^ 
 
 ENGLAND 
 
 Hanoverian succession, has entered the blazon of 
 the three United Kingdoms. Removed since the 
 accession of Yictoria, it has yet remained in 
 the county of Kent from time immemorial, and 
 there in the old Saxon kingdom, once the kingdom 
 of the men of Cantium, it tells the history of the 
 past to the wanderer in the sunshine on its land. 
 
 A fair land it is, this England's garden, blest 
 with all which makes the heart glad ; with fruit 
 and corn and hops, with meadows and woods of 
 stately oaks and elms, with rivers filled with fish, 
 and wayside villages. Between these here and 
 there, surrounded by its park and timber, a hundred 
 years old, rises one of those baronial halls in which 
 no other county is so rich as Kent, or one of those 
 old-fashioned manor houses in the style of the 
 Tudors, the ancient seat of the landed gentry. 
 What a charm of homeliness, honour, and trust, 
 broods over the red brick walls of these resi- 
 dences, rising among towns filled with the hum 
 of labour, out of a crown of trees by the way- 
 side—pictures of distinguished rest, of secure pos- 
 session, of constancy and duration in the midst 
 of that ceaseless change to which we are all 
 subject ! Old, and yet not in decay— closed, yet 
 not hostile — proud, yet not insolent— they stand 
 there unhurt by the storms which have ruined 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 5 
 
 the castles in France and threatened those in 
 Germany, seats of courage, plenty, hospitality, 
 the old brothers of the city, the remains of good 
 Old England. Landed proprietors lived here — 
 squires, so called — people who were not noble, 
 though they had a long line of ancestors and 
 a splendid coat-of-arms. A mean between the 
 nobility and the peasantry, they were the famed 
 old gentry, the land's substance, the might of the 
 realm, the real kernel of the English nation^ re- 
 presenting its wealth and independence, strength- 
 ened by OromwelFs iron regiment when he smashed 
 the heads of the nobles. The conceptions of 
 "squire," "gentry," and its correlative "gentle- 
 man," are so thoroughly English, that they can 
 only be made plain to a Continental understanding 
 by description.* The moral meaning of gentleman 
 we know, and have adopted it in our own German 
 language. But this is only one side of the con- 
 
 * "I am styled * gentleman ' by Act of Parliament," says 
 Mr. Sampson Brass in the ' Old Curiosity Shop,' though no 
 English reader would take him really to be a " gentleman." 
 The conventional has nothing in common with the legal 
 term. Washington Irving says there is "an indescribable 
 something which always distinguishes the gentleman, which 
 dwells in a man's air and deportment, and not in his clothes." 
 —'Tales of a Traveller,' p. 116, Bohn's Edition. 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 ception, by no means all. The squire — an anti- 
 quated title, in the place of which is now the 
 country gentleman, one of the most enviable 
 personalities in modern English life — was origin- 
 ally a knight's son before receiving knighthood. 
 Every holder of a fee-simple of more than 201, 
 sterling, was then entitled to knighthood : more 
 and more, however, men withdrew themselves 
 from this costly honour, and after the 46 th 
 year of Edward III., 1373, the title '* squire" 
 was accorded to every large landowner, without 
 consideration of knighthood or fee. The squire, 
 or lord of the manor, has been defined as a 
 landowner of the lower nobility : but he is more 
 and less ; less, since he has no legal status, as the 
 nobleman has — more, since he may be of more 
 aristocratic descent, and possess a local influence 
 which is not to be referred to any law, but is 
 inherited with the land itself, often through cen- 
 turies, from father to son. " Nobilis fit," the Eng- 
 lish Peer is 7nade, under the old title is often a 
 new family; but "nascitur generosus," a man must 
 be born of this kind, as is plain from the notable 
 reply put in the mouth of James I., who, after his 
 succession, was asked by his nurse to make her son 
 a gentleman, " My good woman, I can make him a 
 Lord, but it is beyond my power to make him a 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 7 
 
 gentleman." Even Selden, the famous jurist, whose 
 'Treatise on Titles of Honour/ published in 1614, 
 is still an authority on the respective ranks of the 
 nobility and gentry, goes so far as to say that 
 not even God Almighty can make a gentleman. 
 The matter is made clear by considering the 
 gentry as corresponding to the German nobility. 
 The gentry is divided into the titled and the 
 non-titled. The first class is made up of baronets 
 and knights. This class, compared with the nobles, 
 is known as the lesser or lower nobility. But 
 neither knight nor baronet has, beyond his title and 
 precedence in order of rank, the slightest privilege 
 over the old squire or untitled gentleman ; they 
 rather represented and still represent the gentry 
 which may be elected only for the Lower House, 
 while the nobility is admitted by law to the Upper. 
 But the nobility of England can, as far as regards 
 age, scarcely be compared with that of Germany, 
 still less with that of France. This is owing to its 
 political nature, which, as before remarked, is most 
 nearly related to the Upper House : a Lord is 
 always also a Peer ; he thus preserves the mark of 
 his origin better than the nobility of any other land 
 in Christendom. All nobility is and can only be 
 originally a nobility of merit ; but through the 
 unlimited inheritance of a distinction in its essence 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 persona], this character is in most other lands 
 almost lost. In England it has not only remained 
 in principle ; hut the tendency of modern time is 
 to cause it, in fact^ to assume greater importance. 
 Though inheritance still exists, it is narrowed ; the 
 children of great families return, after a time, back 
 into the people, whence their ancestors sprung, 
 A Peer's eldest son, succeeding to the title at his 
 father's death, is during his life only conventionally 
 a Lord, and is therefore eligible for the Lower 
 House. Changed in England, more than elsewhere, 
 is the usage of conferring nobility on merit as such, 
 by giving it a seat in the House of Lords. Twenty 
 of the greatest families have been founded by City 
 merchants, and seventy Peers owe their elevation 
 to a successful career as advocates or administrative 
 functionaries. The English nobility is an institution 
 with a living organism, in which the blood, through 
 assimilation, and rejection of used up elements, is 
 continually renewed ; instead of separating itself 
 from the people, it has always drawn its greatest 
 strength from its connection with them, and thus, 
 though with fewer ancestors than Continental no- 
 bility, it possesses greater riches and popularity. 
 A "title without means"* is not of much value 
 
 * Cf. ' The Act of Attainder against the Duke of Oldford.' 
 — ' Saturday Review,' March, 1873, p. 379. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 9 
 
 in England, and bankruptcy is looked on as a 
 sufficient ground for degradation. A dozen profli- 
 gate Peers might be mentioned, who, after running 
 through their property, were either not called 
 to the Upper House or had their names taken 
 out from the list of members. In earlier cen- 
 turies wars, in later revolutions and treasonable 
 conspiracies, have made great gaps among them. 
 The war between the Eed and White Eoses asked 
 for whole hecatombs of noble victims : it was strictly 
 commanded before the battle that the nobles should 
 be killed, the commoners alone spared. Thus in 
 thirteen engagements, from St. Alban s day, in the 
 year 1455, to the day of Bosworth, in 1485, two 
 kings, four princes, ten dukes, two marquises, 
 twenty-one counts, two viscounts, and twenty-seven 
 barons fell, either on the field of battle or after- 
 wards by assassination. Attainder, too, since the 
 time of the Conqueror, has considerably thinned 
 the ranks of the nobles : no less, indeed, than 
 eighty lords have died under the hands of the 
 executioner or common hangman. 
 
 Little trace now exists of the great Norman 
 nobility of William, as little of the creations of 
 Lackland. Among England's oldest titled families, 
 three can trace their genealogy to the time of 
 Henry III., and three to that of the first Edward ; 
 
10 ENGLAND 
 
 but these, strangely enough, are in the lowest ranks 
 of the English Peerage, while its higher dignities 
 point back invariably to a more modern origin. 
 Scarce a sixth of the present sitters in the Upper 
 House held their titles at the time of the Revo- 
 lution in 1688, and in thirty years the list of the 
 Peers has been increased by over sixty names. 
 Out of twenty dukedoms, one only comes from the 
 fifteenth century, and the oldest marquisate is not 
 older than the sixteenth. Of 108 earldoms, two 
 only came from the fifteenth century, thirty-one 
 from the eighteenth, and fifty-four from the nine- 
 teenth. Only one viscount dates from the six- 
 teenth century. Baronies go back as far as the 
 thirteenth century, of which there are six, and 
 four from the fourteenth : of the former, three are 
 Peeresses in their own right. One of these. 
 Baroness Boscawen, represents the Barony of 
 Despencer; she and the Baroness de Eos are of 
 the two oldest noble families of England, created in 
 the year 1264. Beyond this can none of the Upper 
 House trace their descent, whilst the name and 
 family of many of the gentry is in the ' Doomsday 
 Book,' as that of the famous Millais, the painter of 
 the 'Bride of the Huguenot.' But the squire was 
 quite a different being from his descendant the 
 country gentleman, yet not more so than the life 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 11 
 
 of the present from that of the past. He who 
 would know him in his rough, sometimes too 
 rough, yet always genial humour, must read some 
 romance of the last century, as, for instance, ' Tom 
 Jones,' where Fielding has given us so delightful 
 a picture of the two worthy neighbours. Squires 
 Western and Allworthy, of whom the last does 
 nothing but make others happy, while the first — a 
 far truer picture of his time — does nothing but 
 hunt, curse, and become fuddled with — the parson. 
 Not less ancient than the dwellings of the 
 landed proprietors in Kent are its towns. Dover 
 claims precedence, as being the first entered by 
 any one landing in that county, with its old Nor- 
 man castle, clavis et repagulum totius regni, as Mat- 
 thew Paris describes it. As Kent was the nearest 
 point to the Continent, so all England's conquerors 
 landed here. Julius Caesar and the Eomans at 
 Dover ; the Saxons at the Isle of Thanet, now no 
 more an isle; and lastly the Danes. So these 
 coasts were strictly watched in the time of the 
 Normans, and the Cinque Ports especially con- 
 structed for their defence, of which, however, some, 
 like Sandwich, for more than a hundred years have 
 been part of the mainland. The governor of these 
 ^ve havens is called Lord Warden, a post which, 
 since the havens disappeared, has become a sinecure, 
 
12 ENGLAND 
 
 and is given to deserving statesmen, as last to the 
 Duke of Wellington and Lord Palmerston. The 
 residence of the Lord Warden is Walmer Castle, 
 an old castle by the sea^ not far from the village 
 of the same name, in vv^hich I, in the beginning of 
 1860, lived, and saw the then Lord Warden 
 Palmerston riding merrily with his groom behind 
 him. It is a lovely residence : the perfume of the 
 fields mixes itself with the salt breeze of the sea ; on 
 the left lies the little picturesque village of Deal, 
 and opposite in the sea the dangerous Goodwins, 
 " that fearful sandbauk where the skeletons of so 
 many stately ships lie buried " (' Merchant of 
 Yenice,' iii. 1), once, in far back days, the posses» 
 sion of the Earl of Goodwin, father of that Harold 
 whom William conquered at Hastings. So has the 
 sea, ever labouring — here washing away, there 
 adding — buried in its deeps part of the mainland^ 
 and elsewhere made islands, as that of Thanet, 
 or havens, as that of Sandwich, part of the present 
 Continent. 
 
 Sandwich, now a quiet little rustic town, lies 
 not far from the ocean, which, however, can only 
 be seen from the top of the old crumbling tower 
 of the church, surrounded by its graves. To the 
 stranger who passes through its empty streets it 
 must seem a city of the dead, a realm reigned 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 13 
 
 over by sleep and dream ; there are few traces to 
 remind him that active life once dominated here. 
 Three hundred years ago Sandwich was the object of 
 a peculiar invasion, friendly, however, and welcome 
 — that of the Protestant Flemings, who sought 
 a refuge here, when, flying from Alba, they de- 
 termined rather to give up their home than their 
 creed. The exodus of Belgium's richest merchants, 
 most excellent fabricators and most diligent manu- 
 facturers, lasted for a year. They wandered in all 
 directions, but those who turned to England and 
 greeted its coast as Asylum Christi first settled in 
 Sandwich, where we find a great number of them 
 in the year 1561. Their artistic knowledge, and 
 their love of freedom, they brought with them 
 wherever they went ; and well might one say of 
 them here in England as later was said in the 
 Mark Brandenburg^ that "those towns in which 
 they dwelt were happy, for Grod followed them 
 with His blessing." In spite of Papal Bulls, 
 Queen Elizabeth secured them a hospitable recep- 
 tion. The mayor and council of Sandwich were 
 advised to receive them in a friendly manner, and 
 to give them especially every assistance in the 
 prosecution of their trade, linen and cloth weav- 
 ing, which they brought with them to our shores. 
 This was done. Two weekly markets were or- 
 
14 ENGLAND 
 
 dained in Sandwich for the selling of their goods, 
 which were soon sought out of all parts of Eng- 
 land. They had a church and churchyard, as they 
 had desired on landing, a place to worship their 
 God, a place to bury their dead, and liberty to prac- 
 tise their trade. Sandwich, which shortly before, 
 through the fact of its haven becoming covered 
 with sand, was sunken from its former greatness, 
 attained new altitude and reputation. Well might 
 Schiller make his Marquis Posa cry to the tyrant 
 Philip II. — " Thousands fled from their father- 
 land, poor and happy. Elizabeth received the 
 fugitives with open arms, and Britain blossomed 
 and bore fruit through our country's handiwork." 
 Others soon followed the colony of Sandwich. 
 Samuel Smiles, whose story of the settling of the 
 Flemish in Kent we here recapitulate, tells us that 
 in the very first years of Elizabeth's reign a troop 
 of eighteen Walloon families, under the guidance 
 of their rector Hector Hammon, Minister verhi 
 Dei, came to Canterbury, where they were re- 
 ceived with no less friendliness. Here they set 
 up their looms, hitherto unknown in England, for 
 brocade, Orleans silk, and half-silk produce. The 
 high-spirited and liberal Matthew Parker, Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, gave them for their religious 
 service a crypt of the Cathedral once consecrated 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 15 
 
 to the Holy Virgin, and in this crypt — out of whose 
 former wealth in gold, purple, jewels, and costly 
 stones Henry Till, only left the rings on which the 
 silver lamps hung — these refugees assembled them- 
 selves for prayer and preaching. The community 
 which here flourished during the seventeenth cen- 
 tury became afterwards smaller from year to year ; 
 at the beginning of the last century the greater 
 number, together with the Huguenots, had gone 
 to London, where their posterity are still extant 
 among the Spitalfields' weavers. The remainder, 
 however, is still in Canterbury ; and although the 
 community consists but of twenty members, out of 
 which are two elders and four deacons, it still 
 holds in the so-called " French Church/' which is 
 the present name of the old crypt, its Calvinistic 
 service, while above in the Cathedral all the pomp 
 of the High Church of England displays itself. 
 
 A deeper impression was left by the Flemish 
 colony in Sandwich. Here, not long after their 
 landing, they constituted a third part of the 
 people. Though cloth-weaving was their spe- 
 ciality, they by no means confined themselves to 
 this. Many of the branches of that industry in 
 which England beyond doubt takes precedence, 
 and which is the fountain of its national wealth, 
 as, for instance, that of the cloth and wool manufac- 
 
16 ENGLAND 
 
 ture, these Flemish introduced, and helped to perfect 
 others. They built the first Dutch windmills on 
 the coast of Kent ; they fabricated porcelain ; 
 above all, they tended garden and field after the 
 fashion of their former home. " Till the time of 
 these settlers," says Smiles, "the art of gardening 
 was almost unknown in England ; cabbages, ra- 
 dishes, turnips, and other vegetables were scarcely 
 to be had : indeed, one scarcely knows how to cook 
 them even at the present day" The Spanish 
 Catharine, Henry YIII.'s first wife, accustomed as 
 she was to salad in her southern home, could 
 scarcely procure one in all England, and was 
 obliged to import it from the Netherlands. All 
 this, and more, the Flemish brought : they 
 changed the fail* Kent into that garden, in which 
 all is green and bloom to the edge of the ocean ; 
 and though Sandwich has long since become a 
 quiet town, which gives no more any information 
 as to its second elevation_, yet the gardens which 
 surround the houses like a voluptuous crown, and 
 recommend themselves as much by their neatness 
 as by their fertility, remind us still of the days of 
 those settlers from the Netherlands. But these 
 have long since ceased to be a separate people, 
 though, mixed with the general, numberless families 
 still retain their Dutch names. A direct descend- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 17 
 
 ant of the Bouveries — the original Bouverie being 
 a great wool-manufacturer, who in the year 1567 
 escaped to Sandwich from the Inquisition of Alba 
 — sits now in the House of Lords as Earl Eadnor ; 
 and the Right Hon. E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen, 
 an offshoot of the Flemish Hugessen, a weaver, 
 represents in the House of Commons the town 
 which once received as an asylum his ancestors. 
 
 The town, however, which more than any other 
 in Kent preserves recollections of bygone time, 
 and tells those who care to hear such voices of the 
 past a whole history of old English life and poetry, 
 is Canterbury, lying inland halfway between 
 London and the sea. 
 
18 ENGLAND 
 
 II. 
 
 There it stands, the old archiepiscopal town, the 
 Cantuaria of the Saxons, the metropolis of the men 
 of Kent, the " Kantelburg " of the German stu- 
 dents of theology — there it stands before me, with 
 its old cathedral, with its old churches, asylums, 
 cloisters, old streets, and old gabled houses, A feel- 
 ing steals over me as on that morning, when I 
 stood under the shadows of its houses, not as if I 
 were myself old, but as if the old time were again 
 young ; such rest lies over it, as out of past cen- 
 turies. The sun shines on its grey slate roofs 
 and towers with another light, as if less colour 
 were there, paler, fainter, more dreamy ; like the 
 sunshine on old sacred paintings. All round is 
 the old wall, in some places fallen, but every- 
 where overgrown with ivy and wild flowers, 
 which smell strong in the midday sun. Quiet 
 gardens lie under the walls; in the still streets 
 are old inns, with dark, cool, arched chambers; 
 and in the darkest corner stands " mine host," who 
 has lost nothing of the redness of his nose from 
 wearing a fashionable white cravat, and properly 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 19 
 
 is no more called "host/' but "waiter;" and the 
 " butler," who, alas ! has lost his leathern apron, 
 brings me a pewter pot and tumbler; and the 
 " ostler " sits in the yard on the shafts of a waggon, 
 polishing the silver garnishing of his harness, and 
 humming part of a harvest-song, with the beau- 
 tiful refrain, 
 
 ** Over, over, over and over. 
 Let every man drink off his can, 
 And toss it over and over." 
 
 Again I go into the streets and bye-lanes, 
 which are full of the warm August sunshine and 
 shadows, of crowds of men, and the gay bustle of 
 the morning market; and amongst all the other 
 old houses also that " very old house bulging 
 out over the road, a house with long, low lattice- 
 windows, bulging out still farther, and beams with 
 carved heads on the ends bulging out too, so that 
 I fancied the whole house was leaning forwards, 
 trying to see who was passing on the narrow 
 pavement below." 
 
 Every reader of Dickens's masterpiece, ' David 
 Copperfield,' knows that in this house, with its 
 old-fashioned brass knocker, its low-arched door 
 and corners, its angles and carvings, and its quaint 
 little panes of glass, and yet quainter little win- 
 dows, as old as the hills, yet as pure as any snow 
 
 c 2 
 
20 ENGLAND 
 
 that ever fell on them, the fair Agnes lived ; that 
 angel of a wife with whom poor David was blessed, 
 when he, sick of the joys and the sorrows of the 
 world, returned home to this old town of his youth, 
 to find in its familiar obscurity peace, and in the 
 forgotten playmaiden the good, true, forgiving 
 friend and helpmate whom he could never forget. 
 
 A thousand remembrances awake as I walk 
 along through the High Street of the town (so 
 is called regularly in every English provincial 
 town the old " Heerstrasse "). Here is a small 
 street, "Mercery Lane," which seems more anti- 
 quated than all the other antiquated streets ; and 
 here is an open space, and on it stands, in all 
 its mediaeval splendour and magnificence, the 
 Cathedral. 
 
 The Cathedral is the prominent trait in the fea- 
 tures of Canterbury^ and wherever one may stand, 
 in the streets or in the environs of the town, it 
 remains present to him, like an earnest and solemn 
 thought. So long as one can see Canterbury, its 
 quadrangular towers are conspicuous in the wide 
 plain to the traveller who passes in the railway, 
 a last reminiscence of monkish, as the Castle at 
 Dover of feudal England. 
 
 The ground-stone of this building was laid by 
 William the Conqueror ; but the individual parts 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 21 
 
 date from the most various periods of those cen- 
 turies which, for the West of Europe, have become 
 the classical age of architecture. Hence the whole 
 has a character of variety, intimately connected 
 through the transcendental spirit which formerly 
 loved to celebrate the Highest in poems of stone, 
 which for the princes and great of this world made 
 dark fast castles, but for the King of kings that 
 light dome — whose towers stretch full of longing 
 towards Heaven. 
 
 The choir of the Cathedral has an imposing 
 effect when one first sees its pillars, its arches, 
 and, walking under its vaults, thinks he beholds 
 above him the arches of an oak-wood turned into 
 stone, from which the German spirit obtained its 
 first architectural inspiration. It is the Anglo- 
 Norman style which does not essentially differ 
 from our Grothic, for the same German rudi- 
 ments are in both. Upon the north side of the 
 Cathedral are the cloisters, the chapter-house, and 
 the remains of the archiepiscopal palace. The 
 treasure-chamber is in a quadrangular Norman 
 tower at the east end, and here were kept, before 
 the abolition of the Catholic religion in Eng- 
 land, the numerous relics of which Erasmus has 
 written. In the nave, in the aisles, and the crypt, 
 in the twilight which falls through the stained- 
 
22 ENGLAND 
 
 glass windows, lie buried a king of England, a 
 queen, a prince, many cardinals, and all the arch- 
 bishops of Canterbury who in the four hundred 
 years from 1161 to 1502 here lived and died. 
 Their stone figures, with the mitre on their heads, 
 the crosier in their hands, and with faces as if 
 they slept, repose on their stone sarcophagi. What 
 a row of coffins and of remembrances ! Yet only 
 two of them have preserved for us, over so long 
 a time, their romantic or historical charm — 
 
 '* Black Edward's helm and Becket's bloody stone." 
 
 — Don Juan, x. 73. 
 
 The Black Prince ! Edward III.'s heroic son, 
 who does not know him ? The favourite of ancient 
 folk-lore, gay, full of animal spirits, the intrepid 
 conqueror of Cressy, who yet was destined in 
 early manhood to suffer and to die ! To this day 
 that little book which, under the title ' History of 
 Edward the Black Prince, together with the Con- 
 quest of France,' represents his military exploits, 
 his love adventures, and his early death, forms 
 a chief ingredient of that flying literature that 
 one so often meets in London's old quarters in 
 the form of a long pamphlet, with innumerable 
 leaves and pictures therein. How happy the 
 readers of this history are still at the thought 
 that the king's son at last loves and marries a 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 23 
 
 daughter of the people, the beautiful maid of Kent, 
 "an overflowing young thing!" and how little 
 care they that historical criticism has long ago 
 informed us that the beautiful maid of Kent, 
 this " overflowing young thing," was really a 
 widow with four children ; and might have been 
 the exact ideal of that other Prince of Wales, 
 whom our older contemporaries remember as 
 the " finest gentleman in Europe," the famous 
 Prince Regent, and subsequent Greorge TV., whose 
 device in reference to the fair sex was " fair, fat, 
 and forty." 
 
 There the Black Prince of Canterbury lies in 
 the Cathedral, buried in the land which he loved, 
 in the town in which he willingly tarried, and in 
 the place which he appointed in his will for his 
 resting-place. Upon his sarcophagus is his figure 
 in gilt brass, fully armed — with the halo and the 
 Grerman legend " Ich Dien," which this prince 
 won, together with the ostrich feathers, in the 
 battle of Cressy, and the arms which all follow- 
 ing Princes of Wales inherit to this day — with the 
 locked hands, out of which, however, Cromwell 
 took the sword. " The miscreant," says my guide- 
 book^ — which might well have been written by a 
 strong High Churchman, — who broke the pre- 
 cious stone out of the crown of the dead Prince 
 
24 ENGLAND 
 
 my author does not say, but I conjecture it was 
 his own friends, the High Churchmen in Henry 
 the Eighth's time. His other treasures have been 
 left to him, namely, his old glove, his rusty helmet, 
 his torn shirt of mail, and his self-composed Norman- 
 French epitaph, of which this is a literal trans- 
 lation : — 
 
 " I had gold, silver, splendid cloth, 
 Great treasures, horses, houses, land ; 
 Yet now a poor ragamuffin, 
 Lie I buried under the ground ; 
 And could st thou see me, once so proud and awful, 
 I believe thou wouldst not know me more ; 
 And wouldst never suppose, without reading it, 
 That I was once a man, to say nothing of a prince." 
 
 Is not the English moralist right when he says 
 that one may take fire (and even diamonds, as the 
 example before us shows) out of the past, but 
 never ashes ? 
 
 Such a fire out of the past glimmers brightly 
 about the other great trophy of Canterbury — the 
 stone of Thomas a Becket. 
 
 Here in his own Cathedral was he murdered at 
 the altar, upon the stone slab which shows to this 
 day the stains of his blood. A City boy of very 
 humble origin, but of most brilHant talents, he soon 
 knew how to make himself noticed. After the 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 25 
 
 completion of his studies in Oxford, Paris, and 
 Bologna, he was in 1154 made Archdeacon of the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury. From here he came to 
 the Court of Henry II., the first Plantagenet, who 
 himself, a man of great importance, had a sharp 
 eye for the importance of others. In three 
 years had Thomas k Becket, through the favour 
 of the King, climbed the highest secular steps 
 in the kingdom. He was Chancellor in 1157, 
 a title which in its signification, that of a first 
 minister, is now known as that of the Premier, 
 and in the English language has still maintained 
 itself, if not with the same sense, still with the 
 same word as " Lord Chancellor." He was a 
 worldly man ; kept a good table, a brilliant retinue, 
 numberless servants, fine horses, and supported 
 his King in his endeavours against the hierarchy 
 until he obtained the highest spiritual rule, became, 
 that is. Archbishop of Canterbury, and Primus 
 Regni, " Primate of all England." Then he 
 turned his point suddenly against the King, and 
 a hard antagonist the King had in him — hard 
 as he was himself. The State and the Church 
 had never, perhaps, during the whole of the 
 Middle Ages, been pitted against each other in 
 like bold individualities. Becket, who as Chan- 
 cellor had shown himself the thoroughly worldly- 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 minded executor of his sovereign s commands, says 
 Pauli, in his 'Pictures of Old England/ strove 
 with zeal, as soon as he attained the primacy, to 
 carry out in England the consequences of the 
 pseudo-Isidorian decretals, the sum of the exag- 
 gerated pretensions of Gregory YII., and the 
 recently published doctrines of canonical law of 
 Gratian ; while in Becket's own trial, the first peer 
 of the realm for the first time employed that insti- 
 tution which may be described as a trial by jury. 
 
 Becket fled, but he continued the battle, sup- 
 ported by the authority of the Pope ; so that 
 when he at length returned he had by no means 
 the intention of yielding his position ; but his 
 purpose was, says Pauli, to endure shame and 
 infamy, and at the worst to die in that consecrated 
 place where he had acted as pontiff, and to secure 
 a victory by the death of a martyr. And so the 
 catastrophe happened in the year 1170, which 
 Fitzstephen, the historian of the Archbishop, and 
 after him Hume, relates in the following manner : — 
 
 "And the King himself, being vehemently agitated, burst 
 forth into an exclamation against his servants, whose want 
 of zeal, he said, had so long left him exposed to enterprises 
 of that ungrateful and imperious prelate. Four gentlemen of 
 his household — Eeginald Fitz-Urst, William de Tracy, Hugh 
 de Moreville, and Richard Brito — taking these passionate ex- 
 pressions to be a hint for Becket's death, immediately com- 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 27 
 
 municated their thoughts to each other; and swearing to 
 avenge their prince's quarrel, secretly withdrew from Court 
 (which at the time was held, as in those times very often 
 happened, within the French possessions of Bayeux, in Nor- 
 mandy). Some menacing expressions which they had dropped 
 gave a suspicion of their design ; and the King despatched a 
 messenger after them, charging them to attempt nothing 
 against the person of the Primate ; but these orders arrived 
 too late to prevent their fatal purpose. The four murderers, 
 though they took dififerent roads to England, arrived nearly 
 about the same time at Saltwoode, near Canterbury ; and 
 being there joined by some assistance, they proceeded in 
 great haste to the archiepiscopal palace. They found the 
 Primate, who trusted entirely to the sacredness of his cha- 
 racter, very slenderly attended ; and though they threw out 
 many menaces and reproaches against him, he was so in- 
 capable of fear that, without using any precautions against 
 their violence, he immediately went to St. Benedict's Church 
 to hear vespers. They followed him thither, attacked him 
 before the altar, and having cloven his head with many 
 blows, retired without meeting any opposition. This was," 
 so concludes the chronologist, " the tragical end of Thomas 
 a Becket." 
 
 But only his worldly end ; the Church had 
 another fate in preparation for him, for he was 
 to her as a fallen martyr ; therefore she made 
 him a saint, and constrained the monarch who was 
 not able to conquer him whilst living to make a 
 pilgrimage to his grave when dead. 
 
 In the year 1172 Becket became canonized 
 amongst the saints of the first rank as " Martyr 
 
28 ENGLAND 
 
 of the Faith ;" and on the 7th of July, 1220, his 
 remains were interred with great solemnity in the 
 chapel built by the successor of Henry II., which 
 henceforth was dedicated to him, and until the 
 Eeformation remained " the chapel of St. Thomas 
 the Martyr." The papal legate and the Arch- 
 bishops of Canterbury and Rheims bore the coffin 
 upon their shoulders. Of all the saints in Eng- 
 land he was the most popular ; and your true 
 Briton swears only by St. Thomas of Canter- 
 bury. But out of Britain, also, the popularity of 
 St. Thomas so quickly spread that, as early as 
 1194, only twenty-four years after his murder, in 
 the Blasiusdom, founded by Henry the Lion at 
 Brunswick, the history of the death and martyrdom 
 of the new saint was represented upon the painted 
 walls of the choir, which were probably at the 
 time of the Eeformation covered with whitewash, 
 and have been only lately again brought to light. 
 Legend availed itself of the welcome circum- 
 stance. It relates to us that the murderers, to be 
 sure, escaped, but the dogs refused to eat the 
 crumbs which fell from their table ; and that they 
 themselves at last threw their arms and coats of 
 mail to the ground, unable any longer to bear the 
 burden. One of the knights put to death his own 
 son. All four sought the Holy Land; three of 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 29 
 
 them reached it, and were, after they had con- 
 fessed under the cross and received absolution, 
 buried over against the Holy Sepulchre. The 
 fourth, Tracy, was driven back by a storm, and 
 died a miserable death. 
 
 But history knows nothing of all this ; less 
 moral than legend, it informs us that all four mur- 
 derers within the next two years showed them- 
 selves at Court, well pleased with their deed, 
 rode out hunting with the King, and otherwise 
 stood on the best footing with him. Instead of 
 ' having,' according to the legend, ' the wind 
 against him,' Tracy was immediately after the 
 murder made Chief Justice of Normandy, and 
 lived later in Devonshire ; Fitz-Urse settled over 
 in Ireland ; and traces of the Morevilles were long 
 preserved in England. 
 
 Again, legend adds to the circumstance that the 
 day of Becket's murder, the 29th of December, 
 1170, was a Friday; now one remembers that 
 it was likewise a Friday on which he was born, 
 a Friday on which he was christened, on which 
 he left England as a fugitive, on which he was, 
 through a vision, warned of his death, and on 
 which he, notwithstanding, came back, in order to 
 suffer on a Friday the death of a martyr. Through- 
 out the Middle Ages, therefore, we find Friday as 
 
30 ENGLAND 
 
 a day set apart consecrated to St. Thonias. The day 
 of his burial, the 7th of July, was the day of the 
 " Translatio D. Thomae " in the calendar, and was 
 until the 16th century celebrated with festive bon- 
 fires throughout all England. During the whole 
 of the Middle Ages the worship of the saint con- 
 tinued, and culminated in the Canterbury proces- 
 sions. These were held every year in spring, and 
 were days of universal rejoicing ; from the most 
 distant countries came pilgrims to Canterbury 
 to worship at the shrine of St. Thomas. Here 
 kings made donations; here the people brought 
 their savings; and out of the rich treasures 
 which were thus collected succeeding archbishops 
 completed that lordly work which otherwise, 
 perhaps, might have remained uncompleted, the 
 Cathedral, which they raised over the now empty 
 tomb of the last British martyr. 
 
 All this, however, was altered under Henry YIII. 
 After his separation from the Eomish Church he 
 not only seized the immense accumulated riches in 
 Becket's chapel, but also caused the saint himself to 
 be summoned before his court of justice, and, "when 
 he remained absent," condemned him as a person 
 guilty of high treason. Henceforward we find the 
 former St. Thomas of Canterbury called always 
 "Thomas Becket the Tray tor;" his name was 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 31 
 
 struck out of the calendar, his festive fires forbidden, 
 his bones were burnt, his ashes strewn in the wind, 
 and only his blood upon the stone, the last sur- 
 viving trace of the saint, remained. 
 
 At this time also ceased the pilgrimages, which 
 had through the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth 
 centuries preserved the character of a public feast ; 
 but it is to these that we owe that great poem of 
 Geofirey Chaucer, the ' Canterbury Tales/ which 
 in its kind claims, not less than the Cathedral itself, 
 a monumental significance, for it shows the begin- 
 ning of a national literature, and has procured 
 for its creator the respected title of " The Father 
 of English Poetry." 
 
 Greofirey Chaucer was a contemporary of 
 Petrarch and Boccaccio. He was born in London, 
 probably in the year 1340. At that time reigned 
 King Edward III., of most glorious memory, 
 the father of the Black Prince. The flood of 
 national life flowed in high and proud waves. 
 Rulers of Norman blood, but fixed firmly through 
 a band of nearly two centuries on the new soil, 
 sat on the throne of England; the oppressed 
 Saxon people for the first time raised its head 
 again, and enriched with the powerful sound 
 of its native idiom, which yet bore the scent 
 of the oak forests and the heathy hills, the elegant 
 
32 ENGLAND 
 
 dialect of the Norman barons, whose more refined 
 manners and courtly behaviour by degrees also 
 penetrated the long, solitary halls of the rustic 
 Saxon thanes. Out of the hitherto hostile Anglo- 
 Saxon and Norman-French elements grew the one 
 and only English language^ and the one and 
 only English people ; it was a great time for 
 England, and all had the character of a gay 
 and joyful change. While France, says Macaulay, 
 was wasted by war, till she at length found in 
 her own desolation a miserable defence against 
 invaders, the English gathered in their harvests, 
 adorned their cities, pleaded, traded, and studied 
 in security. Many of our noblest architectural 
 monuments belong to that age. A copious and 
 forcible language, formed by the infusion of 
 French into Grerman, was now the common 
 property of the aristocracy and the people. Nor 
 was it long before genius began to apply that 
 admirable machine to worthy purposes ; whilst 
 English battalions, leaving behind them the de- 
 vastated provinces of France, entered Yalladolid in 
 triumph, and spread terror to the gates of Florence, 
 English poets depicted in vivid tints all the wide 
 variety of human manners and fortunes, and 
 Enghsh thinkers aspired to know or dared to 
 doubt, where bigots had been content to wonder 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 33 
 
 and believe. The same age which produced the 
 Black Prince and Derby, Chandos and Hawk- 
 wood, produced also Geoffrey Chaucer and John 
 Wycliffe. 
 
 . That was the spring of England, and Geoffrey 
 Chaucer, its poetical herald, its first singer. 
 Yet more ; he has something in his appearance 
 which greatly puts me in mind of the " Bible un- 
 folding" Luther. A friend to study, of extensive 
 reading, with various attainments, as free from the 
 superstitions of his age as the condition of natural 
 science allowed him to be — he was at the same time 
 a man of life, the world, and the people ; who 
 understood their language, loved it, and if he 
 did not create it, yet formed its national pecu- 
 liarity and prepared it for literary use. 
 
 The life of Chaucer is a varied existence. He 
 plentifully experienced the favour and disfavour 
 of fate, heartily enjoyed the pleasures of this world, 
 and fought with all the irksomeness of existence 
 even to his death. He visited foreign lands, and 
 had intercourse with men of a]l ranks. With the 
 courtly magnificence of the kings' palaces he was 
 no less familiar than with the daily employments 
 of the citizen and the peasant. Classically edu- 
 cated, he was in succession courtier, soldier, diplo- 
 matist, officer, and representative of his country 
 
 D 
 
34 ENGLAND 
 
 in Parliament. Above all, he knew his own people, 
 and felt himself one with them ; he loved his native 
 country in his old age with a still youthful hearti- 
 ness ; until the last the splendour and freshness of 
 the English landscape were reflected by his soul. 
 His good fortune took from him nothing of his 
 amiable modesty, and no adversity was strong 
 enough to strike him to the earth ; although 
 his public life was not without storms and clouds, 
 yet his poetical appearance at the commencement of 
 English literature, and of the English people's life, 
 is as a first fair day of spring. 
 
 All his biographies written before the year 1866, 
 as, for instance, Hertzberg in his excellent intro- 
 duction to his translation of the * Canterbury Tales,' 
 and Pauli in his * Pictures of Old England,' give 
 as the earliest date in Chaucer s life the autumn of 
 1359, in which he, under Edward III., joined the 
 expedition against France. Since 1866, our know- 
 ledge in this respect has been enriched in a remark- 
 able way. In the above-named year, Mr. Bond 
 found in the British Museum two parchment scrolls, 
 which for three or four hundred years had been 
 glued together in the cover of an old MS. bought 
 by the Museum, and known as " Additional MS., 
 1862" (* Fortnightly Review,' Aug. 1866, quoted 
 in ' Chaucer's England, by Mr. Browne,' London, 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 35 
 
 1869 ; and Lehmann's ' Magazine for Foreign 
 Literature,' No. 17, April 1867). From further 
 communications of Mr. Bond it appears that in 
 the new binding of the above-mentioned MS. these 
 fragments would have been probably cast aside, 
 were it not for a strict regulation of the Museum 
 to preserve carefully all even apparently trifling 
 portions of any old writings. It is to this circum- 
 stance we owe one of the most remarkable dis- 
 coveries in the life of Chaucer. Both these leaves 
 of parchment appear to have belonged to an old 
 household account-book kept for the Countess 
 Elizabeth, the wife of Prince Lionel, Edward III.'s 
 third son. The Countess, the daughter and heiress 
 of William de Burgh, last Earl of Ulster of this 
 name, was, after the election of the King, brought 
 up by his wife; in her ninth year (1341) she was 
 betrothed to the Prince, and was married to him in 
 the year 1352. Among her ancestors on the 
 maternal side was Joan of Acre, the daughter of 
 Edward I., and her mother was Maud, sister of 
 Henry, the first Duke of Lancaster. The strips of 
 parchment which were preserved appear to be out 
 of the Monastery of Amesbury, of which an aunt 
 of the Countess Elizabeth was Abbess, and they 
 contain an index of accounts referring to the years 
 30-33 of Edward III.— that is, 1357-60. Here it 
 
 D 2 
 
36 ENGLAND 
 
 is that we meet with the name of Geoffrey Chaucer 
 for the first time. It is in the April of 1357, and 
 the Countess is in London, in order to make 
 some purchases for her wardrobe for a visit to 
 Windsor Castle, where the feast of St. George 
 was at that time held, at the ceremony in which 
 the youngest son of Edward III. was invested with 
 the Order of the Garter with especial pomp. 
 So we find entered in the account-book, a short 
 ander-coat, a pair of red and black hose, and 
 a pair of shoes, for Geoffrey Chaucer. The second 
 time the name occurs is on the 20th of May, when 
 again an article of clothing was provided for 
 Chaucer ; and once more at Christmas, when he 
 was presented with a gift of 35. 6d. for " neces- 
 saries." It appears from these, in themselves un- 
 important, notes that in the year 1357 Chaucer 
 was probably page in the retinue of Prince 
 Lionel, or of the Countess Elizabeth ; they can 
 therefore so far serve to decide a point in Chaucer's 
 life which before had not been quite clear. 
 The old English biographies speak with a 
 certain predilection of his residence in the lordly 
 park and castle of Woodstock, which existed some 
 time after the time of Elizabeth, although they 
 have now long vanished from the face of the 
 earth. A peculiar glimmer of romance always 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 37 
 
 shone upon the park of Woodstock, and is even 
 now bound up with its remembrance. Henry I. 
 laid it out as the first park in England ; and here, 
 under the roses of the gardens, ended the sad 
 and sweet romance between Henry TI. and 
 his fair love Rosamond, the heroine of Korner's 
 tragedy of the same name. In the beginning of 
 the seventeenth century was shown in the palace 
 of Woodstock " Rosamond's bower," which since 
 that time has not ceased to be an object of English 
 poetry and talk. Here then, right in the heart 
 of the beautiful English landscape, upon the 
 charming hills of Oxfordshire, where the Glyme 
 winds picturesque, one has long loved to imagine 
 the poet in his old age. Hither, we suppose, he 
 withdrew himself from a life of bustle to a quiet 
 house which had been bestowed upon him in the 
 charming neighbourhood of the royal forests, and 
 here he wrote the 'Canterbury Tales' — 
 
 " In a lodge out of the way, 
 Beside a well in a forest." 
 
 It is a pretty picture ; May, which to his heart and 
 fancy was continually a feast, once more adorns the 
 meadows with white and green ; and while the 
 venerable oaks rustle before his bay window, the 
 spring wind and scent of flowers bear the remem- 
 
38 ENGLAND 
 
 brances of former days into his room, where he, 
 
 sitting amidst his books, is composing the great 
 
 poem of his hfe. They yet show in Woodstock a 
 
 way where he was wont to walk in the morning, 
 
 and some of the old trees which lovingly arched 
 
 over him; even in the days of Elizabeth stood 
 
 by Woodstock Park a stone house which was 
 
 known nnder the name of " Chaucer's house." 
 
 Only we fear that this way where he in the 
 
 morning willingly wandered has originated from 
 
 a poem, *The Dream/ which, only of late 
 
 years contested, is ascribed to Chaucer, but 
 
 which B. Ten Brink (' Chaucer's Studies of the 
 
 History of his Development ') pointed out is not 
 
 genuine. This song is the only one in which 
 
 Chaucer apparently painted the landscape scenery 
 
 of Woodstock, and immortalised his residence 
 
 therein. 
 
 One early morning, with the first dawn of day, 
 he could, he informs us, remain in bed no longer. 
 He rose, and wandered away merrily and alone by 
 a hill-side till he came to a land of white and 
 green, fairer than any he had ever before be- 
 holden. The ground was green with maples 
 scattered here and there ; flowers and woods of 
 the same altitude ; nothing but a wilderness of 
 green and white. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 8y 
 
 If this poem is not by Chaucer, the testimony 
 is weak, which it is imagined may be found 
 in his writings, for his residence in Woodstock. 
 Nevertheless, the belief therein was so fast rooted, 
 that a poet of the eighteenth century, Mark Aken- 
 side, composed an inscription for an imaginary 
 statue of the poet at Woodstock, which contains 
 the lines — 
 
 " Such was old Chaucer 
 
 Here he dwelt 
 
 For raany a cheerful day. These ancient walls 
 Have often heard him, while his legends blithe 
 He sang, of love, or knighthood, or the wiles 
 Of homely life : through each estate and age. 
 The fashions and the follies of the world 
 With cunning hand portraying." 
 
 But the old Chaucer was never so well off; the 
 authenticated facts do not agree with these pleasing 
 fantastic forms; nay, they speak wholly against 
 them. At the time when the sunshine of Court 
 favour shone upon him, leisure was certainly want- 
 ing to him, even if a poetical residence had been 
 bestowed upon him in Woodstock, sixty English 
 miles away from the capital, to sing joyful legends, 
 for his business tied him to London for many 
 years under Edward III. as Custom Inspector 
 of the London harbour ; and later, under Eichard 
 II. again, as Bookkeeper of the royal building 
 
40 ENGLAJSD 
 
 in Westminster, and of different parks, among 
 which Woodstock was not mentioned ; yet he him- 
 self says, in the ' House of Fame/ which belongs 
 to the year 1384 : — 
 
 " No tidings commen to thee, 
 Not of thy very neighbours, 
 That dwellen almost at thy dores; 
 Thou hearest neither that ne this, 
 For whan thy labour all done is, 
 And hast made all thy reckenings 
 Instead of rest and of new things, 
 Thou goest home to thine house an one, 
 And also dombe as a stone, 
 Thou sittest at another booke, 
 Till," &c. 
 
 And on the other hand, when he was dismissed 
 from his oflSce in disgrace, though he had leisure, 
 the kingly favour was wanting to liim ; to which 
 alone such an asylum could have been due. Shall 
 we therefore entirely give up the thought of a 
 joyful and song-stirring stay of Chaucer at Wood- 
 stock, who through this has received a certain indi- 
 viduality which we so willingly foster ? I think 
 not. But we must make up our minds to transfer 
 to his youth what is asserted about his old age, 
 and to refer to his first song what he says about 
 his last. So much more sunny and serene was life 
 to him at the beginning than at the end ; all that 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 41 
 
 fate had for him in failures and dissensions gathered 
 over him in his last days : then had he no rest to 
 wander joyfully in the forests of Woodstock. Not 
 here did he conclude his work as a poet ; but it is 
 possible that he began it here. For that the two 
 strips of parchment which Mr. Bond discovered 
 in the British Museum give us welcome support. 
 The household of the Prince Lionel and of the 
 Countess Elizabeth at that time seems to have re- 
 sided in the castle of Hatfield, but numerous were 
 the journeys and trips they made thence. The two 
 preserved leaves of the household account-book 
 name all the places in which the Countess with 
 her followers stayed during the three years, and 
 amongst these places is Woodstock. Most likely 
 Chaucer's poem, * The Assemble of Foules,' origi- 
 nated at this time, for it refers to the marriage 
 of John of Gaunt with Lady Blanche of Lan- 
 caster, who in the poem delays the marriage for 
 a year (cf * Chaucer's England,' by Mr. Browne^ 
 p. 19). Now the marriage actually took place 
 in the year 1359; so that we have the year 
 1358 as the date of a poem written in honour of 
 an event of a princely family, in which year 
 Chaucer was himself among the followers of the 
 Countess. 
 
 Out of this early epoch, at that time and place. 
 
411 ENGLAND 
 
 originates the circumstance of his inviolable fidelity 
 to the House of Lancaster, which became for him 
 decisive, and in a certain measure affected his 
 destiny. John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, was 
 the brother of Prince Lionel, in the service of 
 the wife of one or the other of whom Chaucer 
 served, and he stayed at Hatfield, during the 
 three years over which the leaves of the household 
 account-book extend. Here, therefore, must the 
 young poet have made the Duke's acquaintance, 
 whose marriage he sung; just as he afterwards 
 dedicates to the early death of the Duchess an 
 expression of sorrow in a poem, * Book of the 
 Duchess.' In the year 1359 — the year with which 
 his biographers have hitherto begun as the first 
 accurate date of his life — Chaucer joined the cam- 
 paign against France, was taken prisoner, and was 
 not set free till the peace of the year 1360. After 
 he returned to London he married Phillippa Roet, 
 a maid of honour to Queen Philippa, and sister of 
 the widow, Katherine Swynford, the mistress of 
 the Duke of Lancaster, whom, after the death of 
 his second wife, he married. 
 
 In the last years of the reign of Edward III., 
 especially after the death of the Black Prince, the 
 influence of the Duke of Lancaster increased ; and 
 befriended by this, even before he became connected 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 43 
 
 with hiDi, Chaucer enjoyed days and years of 
 prosperity as great as his heart could desire. He 
 not only held a lucrative Court employment and 
 received a kingly pension, but he was several times 
 sent with diplomatic commissions to foreign coun- 
 tries, in secretis negotiis Domini regis versus partes 
 transmarinas; and the account-roll of the Royal 
 Exchequer, in which the sums for these missions are 
 noted, gives him the title of *' Armiger Regis," 
 which we may nearly translate as gentleman of the 
 bed-chamber. Two of these documentary-attested 
 missions took him to Italy ; one to Genoa, in the 
 year 1372, the second to Milan, 1377. There is a 
 place in the ' Canterbury Tales ' in which Chaucer 
 says that Fraunces Petrarch had himself told him 
 the tale of the Patient Grriselda in Padua ; a personal 
 meeting and acquaintance with the *^Poet Laureate'* 
 of Italy would naturally follow. Of the two 
 missions it can only be the first in which the 
 meeting took place, since Petrarch died in 1374 ; 
 although it was a long distance from Genoa to 
 Padua, in which vicinity, upon his estate in 
 Arqua, the last years of Petrarcb's life were 
 brought to a close. 
 
 Perhaps we may here, with Mr. Browne 
 {' Chaucer's England,' i. 25), once more refer 
 to the parchment leaves of the British Museum, 
 
44 ENGLAND 
 
 and, out of the relation of Chaucer to Prince 
 Lionel, conclude that he was amongst the fol- 
 lowers of that Prince when he, in the year 1369, 
 went to Milan in order to take Yiolante, daughter 
 of the Duke of Galeazzo of Milan, as his second 
 wife. There is here, as one may understand, no 
 ground to doubt the fact itself, which, com- 
 municated to us by Chaucer in expressions so 
 little to be misunderstood, and not contradicted by 
 the accompanying circumstances, at the same time 
 bears in itself something symbolical — a kind of 
 knightly homage to the mature beauty and perfec- 
 tion of the Italian poetry offered upon its own clas- 
 sical soil by the youthful genius of the poetry of 
 England. Not long after Chaucer had seen for the 
 last time the Italian sky, his darkest days began. 
 Edward III. died, and was succeeded by his grand- 
 son Eichard II., the son of the Black Prince. At 
 the first, during the minority of his nephew, the 
 influence of the Duke of Lancaster asserted itself, 
 and so long it went well with our poet after the 
 customary way. But the year 1386 marks the 
 solstice. In that year the Duke, who was titular 
 King of Castile, undertook an adventurous expedi- 
 tion into Spain, through which he aspired to gain 
 the throne ; but the undertaking failed lamentably, 
 and the Duke remained away from England for 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 45 
 
 three years. During this time a revolution hap- 
 pened in the Government ; a party hostile to the 
 House of Lancaster, led by the Duke of Gloster, 
 seized the helm of the State under the weak King. 
 
 But the year 1386 was also that in which we see 
 Chaucer as a representative of the County of Kent, 
 in the Parliament which assembled on the 1st of 
 October, in Westminster. It may be assumed 
 that he here, as well as he could, defended the 
 cause of his friend, his patron for many years, and 
 his brother-in-law, the Duke of Lancaster. But the 
 end was not far off. In the December of the same 
 year he was discharged from all his employments, 
 and in the year 1388 the payment of his Court 
 pension was stopped, whilst that of his wife, which 
 she had held as a Court lady, had been already 
 lost through her death in the year 1386. Thus 
 it happened, that the man who had hitherto been 
 accustomed all his life to a rich income found 
 himself henceforth continually in pecuniary embar- 
 rassment. 
 
 It is true that his position once more improved 
 when, in 1389, after the return of Lancaster, 
 Gloster's regiment was overthrown, and a son of 
 the former, the Earl of Derby, was minister. But 
 only for two years Chaucer filled the situation 
 of Clerk of the King's Works, for which he 
 
46 ENGLAND 
 
 was indebted to the favourable turn in political 
 affairs. In the year 1391 we again find him 
 without office and almost without means ; and 
 so he remained until the last year of the century 
 and of his life, when the House of Lancaster, to 
 which he once more closely joined his fate, began 
 to be glorious in the history of England, giving it 
 a list of kings, but at the same time also bequeath- 
 ing to it the bloody feud of the White and Red 
 Eoses. All in all, Chaucer passed the thirteen 
 years from 1386-99, if not in misery and poverty, 
 yet with scarcity and privations of every kind, 
 struggling with debts and creditors. But now his 
 Grod-graced nature, sunny in its deepest depths, 
 showed itself, which no earthly trouble could 
 darken ; for in these thirteen years, like the 
 nightingale singing in the night, he produced his 
 great poem, which, borne from century to century, 
 belongs to the world's literature as it opens that 
 of England. 
 
 I do not know in what sense or to what 
 extent John Morley is right, when, in his 
 * English Writers from Dunbar to Chaucer,' 
 he says, that only Englishmen can understand 
 this poet thoroughly. To me, I must confess, this 
 does not appear so difficult. I have always pictured 
 to myself this free, bright, and independent man 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 4.7 
 
 just as Morley describes him, telling ns that when 
 he was rich, he seems to have enjoyed all the 
 good things which his riches could procure without 
 restraint ; and that after he was deprived of his 
 property, he raised no common lamentation, but 
 consoling himself with his own peculiar wealth, 
 ate a worse dinner, and wrote his 'Canterbury 
 Tales; 
 
48 ENGLAND 
 
 III. 
 
 The connection of Kent with the ' Canterbury 
 Tales' is not so accidental as it may at the first 
 glance appear. Apart from the local relation into 
 which we almost immediately enter, there exists 
 a personal one, if we may say so. If we know 
 no longer the place on which the house where 
 Chaucer was born once stood, yet it cannot have 
 been far from the boundaries of Kent, since the 
 giant town on the Thames at this time covers a 
 part of it ; and as Chaucer was descended from a 
 knightly family which was originally settled in 
 Kent, he must have had an estate there also, 
 since, as has already been said, in the year 1386 
 he was sitting as one of the deputies, or knights 
 of the shire, in Parliament for the county of Kent. 
 So he was fast rooted in the soil which he has 
 selected as the scene of his masterpiece. 
 
 The poem itself begins in the following man- 
 ner : — In the first days of April, when with 
 the sweet spring showers the desire of travel is 
 aroused, at this time of the year, it happened that 
 in an inn at Southwark, an old part of London 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 49 
 
 upon the left bank of the Thames, a gay and dis- 
 tinguished company was assembled, consisting of 
 twenty-nine persons, who were on a pilgrimage to 
 Canterbury. Where now is the High Street in 
 the Borough of Southwark, commonly called High 
 Street, Borough, to distinguish it from other streets 
 of the same name, there was at that time the great 
 highway leading to the south and south-west of 
 England. The right bank of the Thames, now 
 peopled by hundreds of thousands, and blackened 
 by smoke, one of the chief centres of London's 
 mighty commerce, with numberless manufactories, 
 chimneys, and warehouses, was at that time open 
 land, with green fields and gardens. It was only 
 at the outlet of London Bridge, at Southwark, 
 that there had, from different causes, arisen in 
 ancient times a town-like settlement. Two great 
 priories, the monastery of St. Mary Overies and 
 the nunnery of Bermondsey, had early given rise 
 to the activity and busy intercommunication 
 which naturally resulted from the vicinity of such 
 ecclesiastical institutions as these. Near to St. 
 Mary's, and not far from the bridge, there stood, 
 till the Eeformation, the Bishop of Winchester's 
 magnificent palace, one of the richest prelates, 
 whose wide jurisdiction included Surrey. The 
 most important agent in this intercommunication 
 
 E 
 
50 ENGLAND 
 
 was the high road which ran from the bridge to 
 Kent, Hampshire, and Cornwall. Here heavily- 
 laden waggons moved, and here assembled the 
 motley crowd of pilgrims to the shrine of St. 
 Thomas of Canterbury. 
 
 Immediately behind the houses, as many as 
 there may have been in that street, the way to 
 Canterbury began, which was all inclosed with 
 green hedges, over an arched bridge, named Locks- 
 bridge, the remains of which were again erected in 
 1847, and in some of the narrow lanes of Kent 
 may be traced to this day. The street which ran 
 out into this high road must have been very lively 
 with merchants' shops, in which the pilgrims pro- 
 vided themselves for the journey, and with inns, in 
 which they with their whole troop of servants and 
 horses lodged. Here still in Stow's time, who wrote 
 his * Survey of London' in 1598, were many good 
 hostelries for the accommodation of travellers; 
 the oldest being the ' Tabard,' so called from its 
 shield, a kind of sleeveless frock open at both sides, 
 with a square collar, now worn by heralds, and 
 called their coat-of-arms, when they are in service. 
 
 Later, probably however not long after Stow 
 wrote, the name of ' Tabard ' was corrupted into 
 ' Talbot,' and under this sign the old inn, or at 
 least a part of it, exists to this day on the old spot. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 51 
 
 This ' Tabard ' is tlie inn in which the pilgrims of 
 the ' Canterbury Tales ' assembled, and amongst 
 its guests we find the Poet. The prologue 
 which describes these, the inn, and the landlord, 
 is the crown of the work. There is so much 
 humour, freshness, colour, and heartiness in it^ that 
 we become fond of the Poet before we know his 
 work, and in love with each of his figures before 
 we have their tales. They are taken almost exclu- 
 sively from the wealthy middle classes of the 
 nation, for the Knight with his son, the " Squire," 
 holds only a kind of middle rank in the English 
 society of the time ; whilst the Yeoman who accom- 
 panies him is his free^ but not knightly, serving- 
 man, possibly his forest verderer or ranger. 
 The " Eeeve " belongs to a similar if somewhat 
 higher circle of life, for which we still have the 
 German word *' greve ;" he is the steward or 
 bailiff of a nobleman in Norfolk. Then there are 
 the representatives of the clergy, the secular as 
 well as the ecclesiastical order of the monks and 
 nuns, a Prioress, a Nun, a Benedictine, a Mendi- 
 cant Friar, a Seller of Indulgences, a Clergyman, 
 and the Beadle of an ecclesiastical Court of Justice. 
 Science is represented by a Student of Oxford, a 
 Student of the Law, and a Doctor of Medicine ; 
 trade and commerce by a Merchant, the Wife of 
 
 E 2 
 
52 ENGLAND 
 
 Bath, that admirable creation full of jovial humour, 
 which alone would suffice to preserve our Poet's 
 name from oblivion ; by a Mercer, a Carpenter^ a 
 Weaver, a Dyer, a Carpet-Manufacturer, a Cook, a 
 Sailor, and the Steward of a so-called " inn of 
 court." The representatives of the landed popula- 
 tion are a Miller, a Ploughman, and a *' Franklin," 
 the proprietor of a freehold property of the class 
 of those who, together with the " squires," and 
 since Chaucer's time numbered amongst them, 
 by degrees began to form what we have already 
 described as the landed gentry. All these persons 
 are in their separate individualities described in the 
 most lively manner : they stand forth in their anti- 
 quated costumes, they converse in their wonder- 
 ful language, and they give altogether such 
 a full and impressive picture of the society of 
 the middle ages in England, that we, if every 
 other source were to be lost to us, out of this poem 
 alone could build it up again. These worthy 
 people are all present in the court and hall of the 
 ' Tabard ' in order that they may set out on 
 their journey to Canterbury the next morning, 
 and, as we have said, the Poet is amongst them. 
 ^^The chambers and the stables were wide, and 
 we were provided with the best," says he ; but his 
 first word of tenderness is for the Host. " Mine 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 53 
 
 Host," indeed, is painted as an ideal and model of 
 that excellent class which to poets and literary 
 men has always been so dear. " He accommodated 
 each of us " (so says and sings Chaucer of him), 
 " and then invited us to the table. Then he served 
 us with the best food ; the wine was strong, and we 
 drank willingly of it. A right important man was 
 our Host; he might have been a marshal in a 
 noble house: a great man was he, with eyes deep 
 set in his head ; a better citizen was there not 
 in ' Chepe.' " Cheapside, at this day the chief 
 vein of the City's traffic, was in the Middle Ages 
 the residence of London's richest and most respect- 
 able burghers. " Straightforward in his speech, 
 wise, and full of learning, he was not wanting in 
 manly appearance. He was also a good-natured 
 fellow, and after supper he began to play and sing, 
 and speak of sports and other matters. When we 
 had paid our bills he said, ' See, my masters^ you 
 are heartily welcome ; for, by my honour, if I do not 
 lie, I have not seen this year so merry a company 
 in my inn. Therefore would I willingly do you 
 some good if I only knew how, and I am at this 
 moment thinking over some entertainment which 
 may amuse you and yet cost nothing. You go to 
 Canterbury, God be with you ! the blessed martyr 
 reward you for it! Now I know well if you 
 
64 ENGLAND 
 
 make the journey that you are prepared on the 
 way to chatter and sing, for truly there is no 
 pleasure in travelling and being silent as a stick. 
 Now I will make a proposal to you, and by the 
 soul of my father, who is dead, if you are not 
 pleased with it to-morrow, then strike off my head. 
 Talk no more about it, but hold up your hands.' " 
 This simplest of all parliamentary proceedings is 
 in unanimous favour for the Host, and he says — 
 " Good : now listen. Each of you shall on this 
 journey tell four tales, two on the way to Canter- 
 bury, two on the way back ; he whose story has 
 most sense and wit, shall, on your return, have a 
 supper here, in my inn, at the cost of you all. To 
 make your pleasure more, I will myself ride with 
 you at my own charges and be your guide and 
 your umpire." 
 
 Brave man, classical pattern of all hospitable 
 virtue ! With acclamations was the proposal of 
 that disinterested one received, who rode forth 
 with them at his own cost to arrange afterwards 
 a supper at the cost of them all. Thereupon wine 
 was brought, and they drank, and went to rest. 
 Next morning, in the early grey dawn, "mine 
 Host" awaked them, gathered them together in a 
 flock, and away to Canterbury ! 
 
 And so they ride away beside the Thames bank, 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 55 
 
 in the splendour of the young sun, between the 
 hills of Blackheath and Greenwich, where the 
 heath is green and the zephyr fans them with 
 sweet airs, and in the tender-leaved trees sing 
 little birds, which have slept with open eyes the 
 whole night long. Upon ambler, courser, and beast 
 of burden, with the pilgrim's scallop-shell on their 
 trappings and caparisons, we see them pass away, 
 those Canterbury Pilgrims. We hear the tingling 
 of the little bells on the harness of their horses ; 
 we see the poor man of God, the Student of Oxen- 
 ford, whose nag was as lean as a rake, and he 
 himself not altogether fat ; we see the Knight 
 who in Palestine fought against the heathen, 
 and his son, the Squire, with sleeves long and 
 wide, and curls as crisp as though they had been 
 laid in the press. We see the Yeoman in green 
 coat and hat, the bow in his hand, the hunting- 
 horn by his side ; the Seller of Indulgences from 
 Eouncival, without beard but with long flaxen 
 hair, merry, with all his pockets crammed to 
 overflowing, full of indulgences from Eome ; the 
 Benedictine, whose fat face drew from the Host 
 the exclamation, " There must be good pasturage 
 whence thou comest ;" the Mendicant Friar, with 
 his " tippet ay farsed ful of knives and pinnes," in 
 order to make presents to beautiful women, who 
 
66 ENGLAND 
 
 lisps his English to make it agreeable ; then 
 Madame Eglantine, the Prioress, who speaks French 
 after the school of Stratford-atte-Bow ; the Good 
 Wife of Bath, who has already been five times 
 married, and therefore is not without experience 
 when she says : 
 
 " But never was it given to mortal man, 
 To lie so boldly as we women can." 
 
 We see, further, the Cook, and the Advocate, 
 who rides in a mixed coat with silken sash and 
 small buckles ; the Doctor of Medicine in red 
 and sky-blue ; the Shipman who has often brought 
 over a cargo of wine from Bordeaux in his bark 
 called " The Magdalene." We see the Miller, 
 a strong fellow with red beard and bagpipes, the 
 Mercer, Carpenter, Weaver, Dyer, and Carpet 
 Manufacturer, brave burghers, every one of them 
 worthy to be an alderman ; men of importance, 
 with wives that one would address as "madame;" 
 wise people and considerate, with a Cook amongst 
 their followers who can cook fowls and marrow- 
 bones, and bake tarts in Cyprus wine ; in short, we 
 see them all, the immortal nine-and-twenty ; the 
 honest Host always in front smoothing quarrels, 
 which, with some significance^ at once break out 
 amongst the clerical part of the company. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 57 
 
 Owing to the power which was intrusted to him, 
 he obtains silence, and at the second milestone of 
 the old highway to Canterbury, by the well of St. 
 Thomas, decides, through the drawing of straws, 
 whose turn it should be to begin the Tales. The 
 lot fell upon the Knight ; he drew, as they had 
 agreed upon, the shortest straw ; and now begin 
 the ' Canterbury Tales,' only interrupted by the 
 prologue before each, in which is contained every 
 little amusing merriment of the pilgrims, as well as 
 the endeavours of the Host to keep the same within 
 proper limits. " Ah ! sir," cried he once to the 
 Mendicant Friar (for, as we have said, the clergy 
 gave him the most trouble), "you should be 
 courteous and agreeable as becomes a man of your 
 standing ; we will have no disputes in this company, 
 relate your tale and leave the Beadle in peace." 
 The Host is perpetually in motion; he sees and 
 hears all. As judge and reporter, he leads the 
 procession, and every one who is called upon, or 
 who himself offers to relate^ comes to him out 
 of the number, whilst the remainder group them- 
 selves around as well as they can. It is a picture 
 of the English Parliament, already in the four- 
 teenth century a fast-rooted national state and 
 company, a House of Commons on horseback, with 
 the Host as self-chosen Speaker, " our Host hadde 
 
58 ENGLAND 
 
 the wordes for us alle" (v. 17,361). Unlike the 
 Speaker, however, he continually interfered with 
 the debates. Every tale drew from him an exclama- 
 tion either of praise or blame ; he took part for or 
 against the heroes who appeared in it ; and he 
 seems, on the whole, to have liked the merry tales 
 more than the mournful. 
 
 When the Doctor of Medicine had ended his 
 relation of the evil deeds of Appius Claudius, and 
 Virginia's death sacrifice, then indeed the Host's 
 gall overflows, and he begins to swear as if he were 
 mad. '^ Hang him," cries he; "by Grod's nails and 
 blood, this was a cursed thief, a false judge." 
 Then turning to the Doctor, he blames him for 
 having told such a melancholy story. " I have 
 nearly got a heartache from it,'' says he, " and I must 
 have some medicine to counteract it, either a pull 
 of moist corny beer, or a merry story. Thou Seller 
 of Indulgences, relate us one, for thou knowest full 
 many." " It shall be done," replied the Seller of 
 Indulgences ; " but first, by the sign of this beer- 
 house, I will have something to drink, and will eat 
 a biscuit." Then immediately the " gentils," the 
 respectable people of the company, who have a 
 presentiment of no good, begin to cry, " No ; no 
 roguery ; relate to us a moral tale from which we 
 may learn something." "Willingly," says the 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 59 
 
 Seller of Indulgences ; *' but, by my cup, I will 
 think over a respectable tale whilst I drink." 
 
 These little intercalations, full of wit and humour, 
 form, so to say, the frame which incloses the various 
 subjects of the poem ; and they give to the whole 
 its character of variety, and its tone of actual 
 life. 
 
 Whilst we listen to the narratives, the picture of 
 the narrators becomes complete in its most tangible 
 reality. Under the hoofs of their gently-stepping 
 horses the road glides along ; and as the sun rises 
 during their conversation, now serious, now cheer- 
 ful, we see village after village emerge and vanish. 
 At Boughton, six (English) miles from Canterbury, 
 we have the surprise of seeing a couple of new 
 pilgrims thrust in among the number of those 
 already known to us; namely, a Canon who seeks 
 the stone of the wise, and his servant, '' the 
 Chanouns Yeman," who is, nevertheless, not much 
 edified by the wisdom of his master, since out 
 of all the work which the kindling of the coals 
 causes he has hitherto won nothing whatever, but 
 on the contrary, has lost all, even his red cheeks. 
 These two figures may be considered as adding a 
 very powerful trait to the picture of manners of 
 society at that time, and give the Poet an oppor- 
 tunity of making the deceitful practice of the 
 
60 ENGLAND 
 
 alcliymists, already becoming a public calamity, 
 a subject of bis satire, witb a boldness and distinct- 
 ness for those days remarkable. 
 
 The Story of the Goldmaker, which Chaucer puts 
 into the mouth of the last individual portrayed, is 
 perhaps the sole Story derived by the Poet from his 
 own immediate time. The material of the others 
 he took without exception as he found it; some 
 from the French Fabliaux, that inexhaustible 
 source of the mediaeval " conteurs ;" others from the 
 ' Gesta Eomanorum/ probably brought over from 
 G-ermany to England ; others from other collec- 
 tions of a similar kind, written for the most part 
 in Latin ; clothing all these very diverse persons 
 and things, different both in time and place, con- 
 formably with the costumes of his century and 
 the local colouring of his country, being therein, 
 even in anachronisms, the model of later poets — 
 Shakspeare not excepted. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 61 
 
 IV. 
 
 Chaucer's work has in its design, as need 
 scarcely be mentioned, the greatest external re- 
 semblance to the work of Boccaccio, who in his 
 ' Decamerone ' is known to employ the same means 
 of uniting a series of unconnected tales by a con- 
 necting narrative. But this idea is not the special 
 property of Boccaccio. It originates in the East, 
 where we find it, for example, in the ' Thousand 
 and One Nights.' Long before Chaucer as before 
 Boccaccio, it was brought to Europe by the ' Dis- 
 ciplina Clericalis' of Father Alfonsi or Alfonsus, 
 a Spanish Jew converted to Christianity, who lived 
 in the twelfth century, and whose book, a col- 
 lection of tales and moral meditations in Latin 
 prose, translated later into French verse under the 
 title ' Castoiement d'un pere k son fils,' was much 
 in vogue from the thirteenth to the fifteenth 
 century as a work of instruction, and is indeed 
 very often quoted by Chaucer. This style of re- 
 lating became still more popular through a book 
 with secular contents, which on this ground had 
 numerous patrons, namely, the ' Tales of the Seven 
 
62 ENGLAND 
 
 Wise Masters.' From this book, which was much 
 circulated in England, and of which a new edition 
 was some years ago prepared by the Percy Society, 
 the English Poet is more likely to have got 
 the hint for his work than from Boccaccio. Cer- 
 tainly it is beyond question, not only that he was 
 acquainted with Italian literature, but also that it 
 exercised a great influence upon him. He quotes 
 once (v. 15,946) direct from Dante, "the gret 
 poet of Itaile, that highte Dante ;" he was, as we 
 have' already remarked, on terms of friendship with 
 Petrarch, and has made good use of Boccaccio's 
 Latin work, * De casibus virorum illustrium ' in 
 the tragedies of the Monk, and of his poem ' La 
 Teseide,' written in Italian, in the Story of the 
 Knight. But Boccaccio's principal work, the 
 * Decamerone,' he appears not to have known ; 
 he nowhere makes mention of it ; there appears 
 no trace of his having used it ; and of the sole 
 story, which is found in both, Chaucer remarks 
 expressly that he had it from Petrarch, to whose 
 memory he dedicates a few touching lines in the 
 prologue to the ' Student of Oxford :' — 
 
 " I wol yoTi tell a tale, whicli that I 
 Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk, 
 As preved by his wordes and his werk. 
 He is now ded, and nailed in his cheste, 
 I pray to God so geve his soule reste. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 63 
 
 Frannceis Petrark, the laureat poete, 
 Highte this clerk, whos rethorike swete 
 Enlumined all Itaille of poetrie." 
 
 The story which hereupon follows is that of 
 Patient Griselda, and the work to which he alludes 
 is Petrarch's Latin romance, ' De Obedientia et Fide 
 uxoria Mythologia,' the version of which Chaucer 
 has almost literally followed, although it flatters 
 the poetical illusion, and in no way opposes itself 
 to objective truth to assume that he owed the first 
 incitement to the words of Petrarch, to the occa- 
 sion of that fortunate meeting in the summer plain 
 of Lombardy. 
 
 The oral traditions to which Professor Ebert 
 especially refers in his excellent 'Handbook of 
 Italian National Literature ' (p. 18), contributed 
 by no means in the smallest degree to make these 
 materials for stories, in their substance scarcely 
 anything more than anecdotes, the common pro- 
 perty of the mediaeval world. Passing from 
 writing to the mouth of the people, and from this 
 again anew into writing, they enriched the store 
 of popular literature of that day with those antique 
 mythological, knightly, fabulous, and legendary 
 elements from which Chaucer as well as Boccaccio 
 drew. Thus there arose from the same causes 
 and in the same century, but independently of one 
 
64 ENGLAND 
 
 another and at opposite points of Europe, under 
 the blue sky of Italy and in the mist of England, 
 the two classical models of the modern art of 
 narrating in prose and rhyme — the ' Decamerone ' 
 and the * Canterbury Tales.' 
 
 A striking resemblance in the way of life 
 and development of the two poets causes many a 
 point of inward relationship besides the outer 
 relationship shown in their works. Both were 
 men of letters, of courtly education, clever in 
 affairs of State ; men who had learnt to know the 
 world by travelling, and mankind by manifold 
 changes of circumstances. There prevails, there- 
 fore, in their writings a lively tone of entertain- 
 ment, full of humour, wit, and bonhomie. By each 
 of them, with sovereign ease, are the social ques- 
 tions of that time treated of, and types of the 
 society of that time depicted ; and therefore, with 
 respect to the history of culture, the ' Decamerone ' 
 has for the Italy of Boccaccio exactly the same im- 
 portance which the ' Canterbury Tales' claim for 
 Chaucer's England. 
 
 It can, then, be scarcely needful to remark ex- 
 pressly that his book is as little free as that of 
 Boccaccio from so-called anstossigen stellen. There 
 was too much of this in the tone of that time, 
 of the finer moral cultivation : and the respect 
 
FROM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 65 
 
 which was paid to women,-T-the touchstone of the 
 value of the period_, as, I think, Rousseau calls it, — 
 never indicated any particularly high grade. Never 
 in the Christian world has woman occupied such 
 a degraded position as at the time of the Minne- 
 Sanger and love courts. Whilst in poetry woman's 
 favour and the grace of love was the theme re- 
 peated, even to tediousness, in reality women were 
 treated with revolting contempt. But did such a 
 contradiction really exist between the song and the 
 life ? Where was there to be found in the rhymes 
 of the Troubadours a word about the soul, the duty, 
 the worth of woman ? Did they not rather cele- 
 brate, without exception, merely the charm and 
 beauty of her body ? Deprive their song of its 
 poetical veil, and scarcely anything else will re- 
 main but the woman, whose sole destiny appears 
 to be to minister to the pleasure of man. What 
 wonder if woman became by degrees that for which 
 man took her ; if immorality of conduct and shame- 
 lessness in speech became so very characteristic 
 of the feminine world of the Middle Ages, that 
 Chaucer in good earnest, and with the appearance 
 of a speaking likeness, set forth as woman's repre- 
 sentative "" the Good Wife of Bath." 
 
 This earnestness, if it in no way alters the fact, 
 increases our sympathy for the Poet. Mature 
 
 F 
 
66 ENGLAND 
 
 consideration of life and worldly prudence give 
 something mild even to his ridicule, without 
 depriving it of its point. It spares no position, 
 no class of society ; it lashes with striking convic- 
 tion their follies, their superstitions, even the per- 
 verted aims of literature, as much as might be at 
 that time. As precursor of Cervantes, he ridi- 
 cules in the ' History of Sir Topas' the fabulous 
 poetry, then become common, of the metrical 
 romances, as centuries later the Spanish poet ridi- 
 culed in his costly parody the deteriorated chivalry 
 of the romance of prose. But in his scorn and 
 in his satire Chaucer remains always the " gentle- 
 man."' Through each of his words flows the 
 breath of a free soul, the sympathetic warmth 
 of a good and great heart. In his verse is eternal 
 May, and the scent of the fresh bloom of the 
 English hawthorn. So says Alexander Smith. 
 
 But while this is, as it were, the spirit that 
 animates his poetry, we must not forget what was 
 probably with him the main point, the story itself. 
 We should do him a great injustice did we regard 
 him in this respect as either a naturalist or an 
 empiric. He has, on the contrary, meditated with 
 great clearness on the art of a narrator ; and in 
 one place in his work has spoken very posi- 
 tively about it (v. 10,715-19). Here he lays down 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 67 
 
 first of all, as a fundamental law of every story, 
 variety. He says, " the knote why that every tale 
 is told " must be so drawn and loosened, that the 
 reader or hearer be not " taryed ;" that his " lust " 
 may not cool, and that the "savour" of the fable 
 may not become flat through the " fulsomnes of 
 the prolixite." 
 
 This direction he has himself followed through, 
 out the whole of his work ; not merely in the 
 single stories, but in their order of succession, 
 which is excited by the wave of unceasing change. 
 A sad tale is followed by a lively one. The 
 reader, still feeling emotion at the tragic fate of 
 Arcite, is immediately afterwards provoked to irre- 
 pressible laughter by the comical presentment of 
 the drunken Miller, and his dispute with the 
 too sensitive Carpenter. At no moment in this 
 comprehensive work does a stop occur, or the 
 action stagnate. As the persons change, so change 
 also the theme and tone of the discourse : the 
 Knight and the Advocate, the Seller of Indul- 
 gences and the Manorial lord, my Lady Prioress 
 and the Masters of Trades, all these manifold 
 callings of the life of the Middle Ages, the 
 world and the cloister, the university and the 
 guildhall, the town and the village — all these 
 furnished the Poet with the wealth of their 
 
 f2 
 
68 ENGLAND 
 
 varieties, this fulness of life and colour to the 
 picture of his time. 
 
 No wonder, therefore, that this model and mas- 
 terpiece became and continued the favourite book 
 of all following generations. Its popularity is 
 shown in the first place from the great number of 
 manuscripts in which it is preserved to us. In 
 a ballad addressed to him by the French poet, 
 Eustace Deschamps, we have evidence that during 
 his life Chaucer and his poem enjoyed high fame, 
 even on the Continent ; whilst the verse in which 
 his friend Gower (fl408) dedicates to him his 
 * Confessio Amantis,' places it beyond question how 
 much he was valued in his own country. 
 
 Another contemporary poet who survived him, 
 Occleve (1420), painted his portrait on the margin 
 of a manuscript, which, preserved and plentifully 
 copied, gives us a true idea of Chaucer's appear- 
 ance, who describes himself as " in the wast 
 schape, sraa and fair of face, elvish by his 
 countenance" (v. 15,113 and 15,114), with a 
 double-pointed beard, after the fashion of the time. 
 When fifty years later Guttenberg's art came to 
 England, the ' Canterbury Tales' was one of the 
 first works which issued from Caxton's printing- 
 press (1475-76). Here also is again shown the 
 remarkable connection between Kent and the 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 69 
 
 * Canterbury Tales,' already alluded to above ; for 
 William Caxton, their first printer, was, as he 
 himself tells us, born in the little Kentish village 
 of Weald. 
 
 Six years after the first edition of the Canter- 
 bury Tales Caxton published a second ; and before 
 the seventeenth century a considerable number of 
 editions existed. Nov^ Chaucer became the source 
 to which England's great poets made pilgrimage, 
 Shakspeare drew from one of his smaller epics 
 ' Troilus and Cressida,' the first principle of his 
 tragi-comedy ; and Milton, in his ' II Penseroso,' 
 summons him up immediately after the great 
 singers of antiquity, 
 
 " Call up him that left half told 
 His story of Cambus(;an bold, 
 Of Camball and of Algarsife, 
 And who had Canace to wife ; 
 That owned the virtuous ring and glass, 
 And of the wondrous horse of brass. 
 On which the Tartar king did ride." 
 
 Nevertheless the Story of the Squire, to which 
 Milton alludes in the above lines, is not the only 
 piece in the ' Canterbury Tales ' which the poet has 
 left half told. We must rather regard the whole 
 work as we possess it, as a fragment. Besides the 
 two prose stories, which Chaucer in the prologue 
 
70 ENGLAND 
 
 calls ' Treatises,' it contains 17,368 genuine lines 
 of verse really coming from Chaucer, there- 
 fore over 3000 more than the ' Divine Comedy,' 
 and almost 2000 more than the * Iliad ;' neverthe- 
 less the poet carried out scarcely the half of his 
 original plan. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 71 
 
 It is late in the afternoon, and the sun is already 
 setting, when the order of the story comes to the 
 Manciple, the economist of a London law court. 
 The Cook has fallen asleep and from his horse, 
 to the great amusement of the company. This 
 tumble has fortunately no further result than to 
 awaken him, whereupon a highly amusing dispute 
 arises between him and the Manciple, who is 
 naturally angry at the interruption. Nevertheless, 
 through the intervention of the Host, this quarrel 
 is settled to general satisfaction, whilst the Man- 
 ciple pledges the Cook from his leathern wine-bottle. 
 Meanwhile they have reached Harbledown (popu- 
 larly called Bob up-and-down), the last village 
 before Canterbury. Even at the present, day the 
 hollow road can be seen — the theatre of that cheer- 
 ful scene which Chaucer describes, the part which 
 was travelled over whilst the Manciple gave his 
 excellent tale. There, on one of the hills, may 
 be beheld to-day, as perhaps it was beheld then, 
 the Hospital of St. Nicholas of Harbledown, highly 
 honoured in the pilgrim-days of Canterbury, and 
 
72 ENGLAND 
 
 still wondrously picturesque, with its ivy and wild 
 wall-flowers — with its grey stones, clefts, and fis- 
 sures — to him who regards the old cloister from the 
 lonely quiet ravine which once formed the animated 
 road from London. As soon as, ascending from 
 this, the hill is reached, he sees beneath, extended 
 in the fruitful valley, the city of Canterbury ; and 
 as it lies there in the evening sunshine, with its 
 numerous towers and churches, and its Cathedral — 
 the goal of the pilgrimage — the Priest, who now at 
 last speaks, may well compare it with the heavenly 
 Jerusalem, and greet it with serious speech. His 
 story, if such it may be called, is a treatise on 
 penance (in some manuscripts plainly called 
 ' Tractatus de Poenitentia '), and well suited for 
 the conclusion of a journey, gives occasion to the 
 holy man to remind the company symbolically of 
 the end of their human pilgrimage on earth. A 
 breath as of evening air moves around us, and the 
 fancy of the reader depicts the troop of pilgrims, 
 now in the early twilight, entering the town by 
 the Gothic arch of the West Gate — the only gate- 
 way which stands unchanged since the fourteenth 
 century in the London Eoad. Now they ride up 
 High Street, where already the evening lights 
 shine from the windows, and at last stop before 
 their inn, opposite Mercery Lane, that little street 
 
FMOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 73 
 
 in which they will assemble in the morning for 
 procession, and to which, although centuries have 
 passed away, the memory of the Canterbury Pil- 
 grims still clings. 
 
 But it was not allotted to Chaucer to depict all 
 this. He was not to see his pilgrims in Canterbury, 
 nor accompany them back again to London ; he 
 owes all the remainder to us, and his supper to the 
 brave host of the ' Tabard.' 
 
 He died in the seventy-second year of his life, 
 anno 1400, one year after the son of the Duke of 
 Gaunt, Shakspeare's Bolingbroke, Henry lY., as- 
 cended the throne. That was a year of triumph 
 for the grey poet, this last year of his life. Imme- 
 diately after his accession the King granted a pen- 
 sion to him, and to his son Thomas an appointment 
 in the service of the Court. The last news we have 
 of Chaucer is, that he hired a house opposite the 
 royal palace, close under the walls of Westminster 
 Abbey, in the so-called Cloister garden, where to- 
 day stands Henry YII.'s chapel. Chaucer took 
 possession of this house on Christmas Day 1399, 
 but on the 25th of October, 1400, he died, and was 
 interred in Westminster Abbey, in that quiet part 
 which, under the name of the " Poets' Corner," has 
 become so world-renowned. He was the first poet 
 who was here laid to rest, the precursor of a long, 
 
74 ENGLAND 
 
 brilliant train who should follow him in the future. 
 Over his grave rises an altar with a Gothic roof — 
 a monument which was here erected to him by an 
 admirer in 1555. It has become black and rusty 
 in long time, and its inscription can scarcely be 
 deciphered. 
 
 The old inn in South wark was also standing a 
 few years ago. The appearance of the neighbour- 
 hood has in every respect much changed during 
 five hundred years. Where formerly the pilgrims 
 assembled for their pilgrimage, is now the immense 
 station for the lines of the South-Eastern and South- 
 western Railways, of which the one follows the 
 Old Kent Road, the way to Kent, and the other 
 runs towards the sea-coast of Hampshire. Still, 
 as formerly, the traffic goes over London Bridge 
 by the same streets ; but these streets are become 
 railways, and how very impenetrable has the 
 traffic grown ! The surging and roaring of the 
 human tide, the iron rattling of waggons, omni- 
 buses^ cabs, hansoms — all in a coloured, confused 
 whirl — the deafening noise, the spectacle which 
 bewilders the eye — the floating sea-colossi, the 
 ships beneath, the railway lines above — that 
 mighty black arch, extended across the street 
 diagonally before us, continually rattling with the 
 trains going to Charing Cross or coming thence — 
 
FEOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 75 
 
 the telegraph wires, which quiver in raid-air — 
 who could recognise beneath this flood of modern 
 London life the old quiet Southwark and the 
 streets of the Canterbury Pilgrims? And yet 
 here we are on the spot. On the left, as if sunk 
 down, but in truth only in a low position, in con- 
 sequence of the neighbouring streets having been 
 raised, stands the old church, well known to us, 
 of St. Mary Overies, just as Chaucer saw it, and 
 in which his friend Grower lies buried. On the 
 right, in the direction of Southwark Bridge, not 
 far from Barclay and Perkins' famous brewery, 
 is the place where, in Chaucer's time, stood the 
 palace of the Bishop of Winchester, and in Shak- 
 speare's time the Globe Theatre. New streets, 
 among them the handsome Southwark Street, 
 Borough^ completed in 1865, animate everywhere 
 the old classic ground ; and that part of the High 
 Street which led to Old London Bridge was some 
 thirty years ago demolished to make room between 
 the New London Bridge and the railway stations. 
 But the lower end of the High Street continued 
 long unchanged, and in it the inn of the ' Canter- 
 bury Tales,' the old ' Talbot,' as much of it at least 
 as remained after a fire in the year 1676. In the 
 year 1867 it was still to be seen in a court, which 
 was reached by going from the High Street through 
 
76 ENGLAND 
 
 a house, whicli was built after the fire, and which 
 hid the court from the street. When you entered 
 the court you had on the right hand the tavern, 
 which dated from the seventeenth century, and 
 even then already numbered its 200 years, and 
 bore from an iron hook the sign, " The ' Talbot ' 
 inn, R. Gooch." Joined to it in the background, 
 and forming a corner on the left, was that which 
 still stood of the old 'Tabard,' the wooden house 
 of the fourteenth century, with its pointed roof, 
 its worm-eaten galleries, its staircase outside, its 
 balconies and little green window-panes fixed in 
 lead. Under one of the balconies was a sign, 
 with "Allsopp's Pale Ale," and on one of the 
 staircase-landings was another — " John Paice, car- 
 man." Under the gallery, on the side, hung 
 a board, on which the twenty -nine pilgrims 
 were represented with the inscription, " The old 
 ' Tabard' inn. This is the inn in which Geoffrey 
 Chaucer and the 29 pilgrims lodged on their 
 journey to Canterbury ;" and near it hung another 
 board, with the inscription, " Midland Eailway Re- 
 ceiving Office." What a contrast, the fourteenth 
 and the nineteenth centuries ! — the ' Canterbury 
 Tales ' and the railway ! But till the last this 
 court has remained true to its former destiny ; 
 " John Paice, carman," has taken care that it shall 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 77 
 
 never be lacking in horses and packages of every 
 kind, whilst " R. Gooch," as a fit successor of " mine 
 Host," keeps ready a pewter pot, with a good 
 drink in it for every thirsty man, as was done fiYe 
 hundred years ago. 
 
 But, when I consulted the newest edition of 
 * M array's Handbook of Modern London — London 
 as it is,' I found in the place where formerly stood 
 its description, only the words, "^Tabard' Inn, 
 South wark : the starting-place of Chaucer's Canter- 
 bury pilgrims. Pulled down." 
 
SHAKSPEARE'S LONDON. 
 
FBOM A'GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 81 
 
 Although London in tlie sixteenth century did 
 not number many more inhabitants than Cologne, 
 and not nearly so many as Hamburg now possesses, 
 it even then passed for one of the largest towns in 
 Christendom ; and our G-erman traveller Hentzner, 
 who was there in 1598, relates with genuine 
 astonishment that the circumference of this town 
 amounted to " nearly a whole mile." At that 
 time, as to-day, there was a City of London and a 
 City of Westminster; but the suburbs, whose 
 blocks of houses now swell the brick and mortar 
 sea of London, were then still green fields and 
 flowery meadows ; and the City of Westminster 
 itself was not much more than a suburb of the 
 palace, the seat of the Court, and of the nobles of 
 England. Here was the then already old Abbey 
 and Cathedral of Westminster, the Houses of Par- 
 liament, and York Place, a handsome residence 
 built by Cardinal Wolsey, but, after his fall, forced 
 by Henry YIH. from his former favourite, and 
 afterwards, " with its rich stock of valuables, its 
 hangings of gold and silver cloth, its thousands of 
 
 G 
 
82 ENGLAND 
 
 pieces of fine Dutch linen, and its stores of silver, 
 and even of beautiful gold services, v^hicli covered 
 two large tables," taken by the monarch of the 
 high hand into his own use. Since that time this 
 residence has been called "Whitehall;" and here, 
 iii the splendour of England's most glorious days, 
 sat Elizabeth upon the throne, "by the grace of 
 Grod, Queen of England, France, and Ireland ; 
 Defender of the Faith." 
 
 Where now the maze of dark courts and ill- 
 famed side streets of the Strand extends to the 
 banks of the Thames, there stood then the town- 
 houses of the bishops, the ambassadors, and the 
 great lords. Beautiful gardens surrounded them, 
 and against their walls plashed the water of the 
 then still '' silver'' Thames. Here were Bedford 
 House, Leicester House, and Essex House, now 
 vanished from the places where they stood, and 
 only leaving their old names to the streets, squares, 
 and districts of new London. Here was also 
 Durham House ; and here, in a small study which 
 overlooked the Thames, sat Sir Walter Ealeigh, a 
 hero in war, a discoverer of distant lands, a man 
 of letters, and a courtier. A circle of famous 
 names united itself around the throne of Elizabeth : 
 it was the youth and heroic time of England. 
 Philip of Spain, who from being a suitor for 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 83 
 
 Elizabeth's hand had become her enemy, had 
 threatened to annihilate England with a formid- 
 able fleet of ships, called the Armada. But " Grod 
 blew, and they were scattered in pieces." This 
 judgment of God was the commencement of 
 England's power on the sea. The progress of 
 her colonies began; and at home, consequent 
 upon freedom of faith, with growing prosperity, 
 awakened also the spiritual life of the nation. 
 
 In the firmament of philosophy, so long over- 
 clouded by the mist of scholasticism, a star of the 
 first magnitude was rising. Men had learned again 
 to speak with classic antiquity in its own language. 
 Poets found purer forms and grander subjects for 
 their songs, and the dramatic muse awoke. A 
 style, half chivalric and learned, half full of 
 artistic geniality, reigned in the Court of Queen 
 Elizabeth. " Queen Bess" has always been one 
 of the favourite figures of English history, of the 
 English people ; and this she would certainly not 
 have been if, besides the talent to reign, she had 
 not possessed other qualities of appearance, of 
 mind, and of heart. The Elizabeth, who only too 
 often rises before us, is the queen who sentenced 
 Mary Stuart to death ; and we have therefore ac- 
 customed ourselves to see in her the "old" Eliza- 
 beth of whom our traveller Hentzner, towards 
 
 G 2 
 
84 ENGLAND 
 
 the end of the fifteenth century, sketched certainly 
 a not very prepossessing picture, when he says she 
 had a wrinkled face, red wig, small eyes, a crooked 
 nose, thin lips, and hlack teeth, and yet was con- 
 tinually hearing from her courtiers flatteries on 
 her beauty. But we must also set before us the 
 young Elizabeth as she appears, for example, 
 in the beautiful portrait in the South Kensing- 
 ton Museum, with pleasant feminine features 
 and golden hair ; the Elizabeth who studied 
 the Greek classics in one of the still inha- 
 bited apartments of Windsor Castle, who walked 
 alone on the terrace of this castle meditating ; 
 the Elizabeth, in short, whom Shakspeare has 
 celebrated. 
 
 An Italian observer who saw her forty years 
 before the German — the Venetian Ambassador, 
 Giovanni Michele —describes her accordingly as a 
 lady equally worthy of remark in body and mind, 
 her face more agreeable than beautiful, her growth 
 slender, her figure well formed, with beautiful 
 eyes, and, above all, with a wonderful hand, 
 "which she liked to show." Why did she not 
 dispose of that hand ? It is true that a strong 
 heart beat in her bosom ; but although free from 
 many weaknesses of her sex, it was not quite free 
 from the softer emotions which make that sex tender 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 85 
 
 and amiable. Once or twice at least, we know, 
 Nature made her power felt even in this woman. 
 But between her and Robert Dudley, Earl of 
 Leicester, the shadow of Amy Robsart arose ; and 
 Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, became a rebel 
 and a sacrifice on the block. Once again, late, 
 when Elizabeth had sat for twenty-three years on 
 the throne, and was no longer a beautiful young 
 princess but a mighty queen of mature age, the 
 Duke of Anjou, a son of Catherine de Medicis, 
 crossed the sea to ask her in marriage. He had 
 wooed her for nearly nine years in a kind of con- 
 tinual mistrust, and now at length he desired the 
 fulfilment of his hopes. The Queen received him 
 most graciously, and the tilt-yard of Whitehall 
 became the theatre of a knightly spectacle, for the 
 description of which we are indebted to the old 
 chronicle of Hollingshed. About 10,000 thalers, 
 a good sum in Elizabeth's days, were spent in 
 erecting a richly decorated banqueting-house. The 
 Queen showed herself on a gallery, which the 
 gallant lords of the Court immediately named 
 the " Castle of perfect beauty." This castle was 
 attacked by " Ardent Desire and her foster chil- 
 dren," who sang the summons to surrender in a 
 canon, of which the chronicler has preserved for 
 us the following verse : — 
 
86 ENGLAND 
 
 " Yeeld, yeeld, yeeld, you that this fort doo hold, 
 Which seated is as spotless Honor's feeld ; 
 
 Desire's great force no forces can withhold, 
 Then to Desire's desire, yeeld, yeeld ! " 
 
 After the song was ended, without the " beau- 
 tiful vestal on the throne" making a sign of sur- 
 render, two cannons were fired off, one with sweet- 
 scented powder, and the other with sweet-scented 
 water, and afterwards a number of ornamented 
 scaling ladders were applied, and the servants then 
 cast flowers and all kinds of sweetmeats against 
 the walls, with such devices as formed the suitable 
 artillery of Desire. 
 
 But still poor Anjou missed the aim of his 
 wooing, for political considerations intruded them- 
 selves, and the royal lioness of the house of Tudor 
 remained henceforth a virgin on England's 
 throne ; her bridegroom the people, her last love 
 her country * 
 
 Where now in modern London a massive stone 
 gate, black with the soot of centuries, divides the 
 Strand from Fleet Street, there was then a turnpike 
 of wood, newly painted, and hung with coloured 
 cloth, called Temple Bar, after the neighbouring 
 guild of lawyers of the Temple. Behind Temple 
 
 Vide G. E. Emerson's ' London,' p. 50. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 87 
 
 Bar, within its walls and remaining " bars" or doors, 
 began the Oity^ the true London of those days. Here 
 with their City-Monarch chosen by themselves, the 
 Lord Mayor, who had his Court and his Court-poet 
 as well as the Queen on the other side of the Bar, 
 lived all the good citizens of London. Some of the 
 great nobles still continued to reside here, though 
 others of them had already begun to emigrate 
 westwards towards Fleet Street and the Strand. 
 The first who left the City to settle themselves 
 more commodiously in a more open neighbourhood 
 were the bishops, to whom their ecclesiastical 
 position assured that security, which for a long 
 time was only to be found in the town by others. 
 The nobility followed the clergy into the neigh- 
 bourhood of the royal residence ; yet in Shakspeare's 
 time there was still many a nobleman's house right 
 in the heart of the City, as for example, that of the 
 Duke of Norfolk, in Duke Place, named after him, 
 the Jews' quarter of London in aftertimes. The 
 City, however, became more and more the abode of 
 rich merchants, whose almost princely luxuriance 
 kept pace with the growth of the colonies, of trade, 
 and of the East India Company. Their houses, 
 constructed of oak beams, with Grothic windows 
 and gables, gave the streets, although they were 
 narrow, a picturesque perspective. But very few 
 
88 ENGLAND 
 
 of these Elizabethan houses are left in the City of 
 London to give us an idea of the rich style of 
 architecture and the better taste of that time. The 
 great fire of 1666 destroyed them almost entirely. 
 But at that time they still stood in all their pic- 
 turesque beauty, with their carved beam ends 
 and their fleurs-de-lis, and other flowers of oak- 
 wood over the door and at the windows. The 
 principal street of old London was then — as it is 
 still now for the City, though under quite altered 
 circumstances — Cheapside. Yery different indeed 
 was " Chepe," the Golden Cheapside of Shak- 
 speare's London, from the present street of this 
 name, with its houses black with dirt and age, its 
 bustle during business hours, and its death stillness 
 during the night. Then it was the great high road 
 from the tower to the Abbey and palace of West- 
 minster, with the most beautiful shops on each side, 
 and inhabited by the richest burghers, — the theatre 
 of processions and pageants, and all the princely 
 pomp of those days. Here still stand the Gruild- 
 hall and Bow Church, from the gallery of which 
 kings and queens have looked down at great State 
 ceremonies ; of which the tower lantern was lighted 
 every evening, and the bells always tolled the 
 curfew at nine o'clock — those same bells, to be 
 born within whose sound still makes the true 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 89 
 
 London "cockney." Here stood also the famous 
 Cheapside Cross, one of those numerous and hand- 
 some crosses erected by Edward I. to the memory 
 of his wife Eleanor, at each of the places where 
 the funeral procession halted on its way to West- 
 minster, destroyed in 1643 by the Puritans, as 
 also was Charing Cross, which has, however, re- 
 ceived the popular designation of Trafalgar Square. 
 Each house had, as likewise at that time in Ger- 
 many, and still frequently in the Swiss towns, 
 its particular sign, after which it was called ; for 
 there were then no house numbers. There were 
 signs of trades and guilds, and there were signs 
 which had reference to commerce and navigation 
 and remote countries. There were a Moor's Head 
 and a Greek's Head in their natural colours (or 
 at least, what were considered such), and there 
 were a Golden Ball and a Golden Cross. This 
 house was called the ' Black Bull/ and that the 
 ' Eed Lion.' At first, without relation to the posi- 
 tion and trade of those who dwelt in the houses, 
 these signs not unfreqnently served to show 
 what afterwards was the family name. So, for 
 example, we find a famous man, of whom we 
 have already spoken in this book, before he was 
 called Thomas a Becket designated as " Thomas of 
 the Snipe/' after the sign of the house in which 
 
90 ENGLAND 
 
 he was born. Later we see house signs on the 
 addresses of letters, of which Carlyle among other 
 things has preserved so many for us in his book 
 on Cromwell ; for example : 
 
 " To be delivered 
 
 " To my worthy friend, Mr. Storie, 
 
 " At the sign of ' The Dog,' 
 
 " In the Royal Exchange, 
 
 " London." 
 
 So the booksellers concluded their publications : 
 for example ; " Printed for Thomas Underbill, and 
 to be had in his shop, at the sign of the Bible in 
 Wood Street." 
 
 Such a sign was a very weighty and massive 
 thing, hanging out over the shop-door, and there 
 swinging to and fro ; and all these different signs 
 and figures and shields, with their bright colours 
 and strong gildings were to be seen in the streets. 
 It must have been a very cheerful sight. The 
 river also had a different appearance. It was still 
 the broad stream of the Thames, well stocked 
 with fish, covered with boats and barges, and 
 graceful swans, as Fitzstephen described it in the 
 twelfth century. London Bridge was (until the 
 year 1750, in which Westminster Bridge was com- 
 pleted) the only bridge : it had houses on each 
 side, and a church stood in the middle. As 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 91 
 
 picturesque as the streets themselves was the 
 crowd of men in them. There was not the iron 
 noise of a thousand wheels in motion, but, as the 
 old Chronicler Stow says, there was always a 
 noise of convivial preparations. The cooks cried 
 hot ribs of beef roasted, pies well baked, and other 
 victuals. Much clattering was there of pewter 
 pots, harp, pipe, and psaltery. The names of 
 Pudding Lane, Cock Alley, and Pie Corner in 
 modern London still remind us of the dainty 
 morsels of a former time ; and the two Wine 
 Streets, one in the neighbourhood of Saffron Hill, 
 now a dirty district between Holborn and Clerken- 
 well inhabited by beggars, thieves, and rabble 
 of all kinds, preserve the tradition of the time 
 when London was still called '' the City of Grar- 
 dens," when there were still beds of saffron, 
 when the Catholic priest cultivated his vine, 
 and the Protestant clergyman his gooseberry, 
 while he comforted himself with the words 
 " God might well have made a better berry, but 
 he would not." 
 
 As little as in the houses did our monotony of 
 brown and grey exist in the costumes of that time. 
 All was then rich in colour and fancy, pleasant 
 and interesting to the eye. There was more indi- 
 viduality and more liveliness in the world and in its 
 
92 ENGLAND 
 
 garments. The age which knew how to enhance the 
 lofty magnificence of the cathedrals, and to build the 
 stately colonnades of the houses of the nobles and the 
 comfortable corners of the houses of the citizens, 
 had also a surprising inventiveness for costume. 
 What an immense wealth of fancy was expended on 
 shoes, hats, stockings, and cloaks ! On the shoe, 
 of which the points now turned upwards like a 
 ram's horn, then spread out like an open fan ; 
 on the head-dress, which varied from the baretta 
 to the hat with the steeple crown ; on the cloak, 
 which passed through every grade, from the wide 
 Spanish mantle falling in rich folds to the short 
 Norman spencer. Gay cavahers in velvet, silk, 
 and fine cloth, which glittered with gold and silver 
 embroidery, paraded the streets ; and the burghers 
 had, like the nobility, their colour and their deco- 
 ration ; each guild, each trade, each profession 
 had its arms and signs. Black was quite out of 
 fashion ; and in the midst of this continual display 
 of lace and satin, of green, scarlet, pink, and 
 sky-blue coats, of plum-coloured cloaks and yellow 
 surtouts, a costume of dark stuff betokened the 
 hypocrite, the slinker, the devotee, the Puritan. 
 
 To this London, then in so much enjoyment of life, 
 so mighty in the feeling of national elevation, so 
 sparkling with new riches, so noisy with the feasts 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 93 
 
 of the Court, the plays and pleasures of the 
 burghers, to this London came William Shak- 
 speare in the year 1586 from his country home in 
 Warwickshire. He was three-and-twenty years of 
 age, and had left behind him a wife, who was 
 eight years older than himself, and three children. 
 Whether he fled from Stratford-on-Avon on ac- 
 count of poaching and the composition of a satirical 
 poem on the justice of the peace. Sir Thomas Lucy, 
 or whether he wandered away with the view of 
 seeking his fortune, of this we know as little as 
 whether his dramatic course began by holding 
 horses at the theatre- door or arranging the chairs 
 in the theatre. But behold there he is ; his genius 
 has led him at the right time to the right place. 
 The drama, which for centuries had been carried 
 on by the guilds and trades in the form of miracJe- 
 plays, and mysteries in the streets and open mar- 
 ket-places, was now taken out of their hands, and 
 in those of the poet and artist obtained admission 
 into the palace of the Queen and the halls of the 
 nobles. The desire to act and see actors became 
 general. Every great lord had his troop of players, 
 who called themselves his actors and servants, and 
 went about in the provinces when they found no 
 occupation in the capital. The first public theatre 
 in London, Blackfriars Theatre, was opened in 
 
94 ENGLAND 
 
 1576 : by the end of the century there were seven- 
 teen theatres in which there was daily acting. 
 Besides this the students at the Universities acted ; 
 the lawyers in the halls of their inns, even the 
 apprentices of London acted ; so that that became 
 true which the proverb said, and which was 
 afterwards placed as an inscription on the Globe 
 Theatre : " Totus mundus agit histrionem " — All 
 the world's a player. 
 
 Shakspeare joined the Blackfriars troop, which, 
 originally in the service of the Earl of Leicester, 
 was afterwards patronised by the Queen, and re- 
 ceived the name of the " Queen's Players." This 
 title has been preserved, and is still held by the 
 actors of Drury Lane, who always call them- 
 selves "Her Majesty's servants." The young 
 member of the Blackfriars troop soon distinguished 
 himself: as early as 1559 he was made a sharer 
 in the theatre, which, as it was the first in 
 time, remained also first in rank. ' ' Shakspeare's 
 dramatic entertainments became," as a contempo- 
 rary author expresses himself, " the greatest support 
 of our chief theatre, if not of every one in London." 
 Before he had reached his thirtieth year " our 
 friendly Willy," the " honey-tongued Shakspeare," 
 was a popular and famous man. " He is our 
 Plautus and our Seneca, the best man in England 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 95 
 
 for comedy and tragedy," says Francis Meres in 
 the year 1598. 
 
 But where must we look for him in this London, 
 which was already so large according to the notions 
 of that time ? Now there were three places in the 
 London of those days where one might be sure 
 to meet, at least once in the course of an ordinary 
 day, every man who belonged to good society — 
 either St. Paul's Cathedral, the Tavern, or the 
 Theatre. 
 
 St. Paul's was then the great and fashionable 
 promenade of London ; but it was much be- 
 sides. What the Rag-fair of Houndsditch in 
 the morning, the Exchange at midday. Rotten 
 Row in the afternoon, and the Haymarket in the 
 late evening are in the London of the present 
 time, such during the whole day was St. Paul's in 
 the sixteenth century ; the old metropolitan church 
 of London, not the square before the church, but 
 the church itself. 
 
 Altogether wonderful things went on in the 
 church. There were the theatres, the courts of 
 justice, the places of political combat, and the 
 lottery-houses of those days. The old drama, the 
 miracle play, before it went out into the streets, 
 had for centuries had its place in the church ; and 
 even in the year 1592 we hear that, on the occa- 
 
96 ENGLAND 
 
 sion of a visit of Queen Elizabeth to Oxford, the 
 service in the University Chapel was no sooner 
 over than the chapel was changed into a theatre 
 for the amusements of the afternoon. About 
 the same time the academic authorities of the 
 same University forbade pipes in the churches 
 " on account of too great body of smoke." The 
 parish elections were almost universally carried on 
 in the churches, and frequently, especially in times 
 of contagious sicknesses, the assizes also were 
 held there. Men behaved in the most careless 
 manner in this metropolitan church of London, 
 which, destroyed in the great fire, stood on the 
 same spot where now rises St. Paul's Cathedral. 
 St. Paul's of the present London is a domed build- 
 ing, after the pattern of St. Peter's at Rome : St. 
 Paul's in Shakspeare's London was a Gothic 
 Cathedral, with a slender spire, which was half 
 destroyed by fire in the year 1561, with cloisters 
 and a Dance of the Dead on the outer walls. Within 
 were chapels and shrines, which glittered with 
 precious stones and gold ; the painted glass of the 
 windows threw a many-coloured light on the 
 splendid silver service of the high altar, and on 
 the shrine of the holy Erkenwald, on which sparkled 
 a large sapphire, with which it was believed that 
 he healed diseases of the eyes. Whenever Queen 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 97 
 
 Elizabeth came with her noble retinue to attend 
 the service at St. Paul's she was almost invariably 
 accompanied by two white bears. But this was 
 not the worst. Ever since the time of the Reforma- 
 tion the nave of the Cathedral had become quite a 
 common passage for porters with beer-barrels, 
 bread-baskets, fish, meat, and fruit ; laden mules, 
 horses, and other animals crossed incessantly 
 from one door to the other, strewing the marble 
 mosaic with straw, refuse, and dirt of all kinds. 
 Through the lofty aisles of the Cathedral resounded 
 the neighing of horses, and drunkards snored 
 on the benches in the choir. On the columns, in 
 the rich-sculptured decoration of the capitals, birds 
 built their nests, and it was a favourite amuse- 
 ment of the youth of the City to shoot them down 
 with a bow and arrow. Notices were affixed 
 to the pillars, and at the so-called " Si quis " 
 door thronged domestic servants who sought situ- 
 ations. Here the advocates of the neighbouring law- 
 courts of Dowgate and Paternoster Row had their 
 stands, at which they received their clients ; and 
 even under Charles II. so much of this remained, 
 that a lawyer, as soon as he was called to practise, 
 went to St. Paul's to choose his particular stand. 
 In the side-walks the usurers had their place, and 
 the font was made use of as a counter for the 
 
 H 
 
98 ENGLAND 
 
 reckonings. The noise was very great ; and while 
 in one part of the Cathedral the organ was played 
 and preaching held, in the other part was cursing, 
 swearing, and cheating. It is true that Elizabeth 
 had forbidden, by the punishment of the pillory 
 (with which was not unfrequently joined the loss 
 of the ears), driving, riding, shooting, and kite- 
 flying in St. Paul's ; but yet under Charles I., in 
 the year 1630, Bishop Laud called down solemn 
 imprecations on those who profaned that holy 
 place, by recruiting soldiers there, holding profane 
 law-sessions, and carrying burdens ; and in Shak- 
 spearian London more than ever was the nave 
 of the Cathedral, " St. Paul's Walk," the fashion- 
 able promenade, the place for novelties, the daily 
 rendezvous of men of wit, and the gallant ladies 
 of the town. 
 
 This middle part of the church was called in the 
 jargon of those days the Inland Sea, or Duke 
 Humphrey's Walk, after the solitary monument 
 which stood in the nave, named after Duke 
 Humphrey, although a simple knight. Sir John 
 Beauchamp, rested therein. Why the Duke was 
 called " his Lordship without flesh " is difficult to 
 say, for during his life the good Duke loved no- 
 thing better than a rich meal and cheerful guests. 
 Yet at a later time he must have become famous 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 99 
 
 for the reverse, for " to dine with Duke Humphrey " 
 meant in the language of those days to have no 
 money with which to pay for a dinner. A diarist 
 of that time, Francis Osborn, gives us the follow- 
 ing description : — " It was then," he says, " the 
 fashion for the best classes, for lords and courtiers, 
 and men of all professions, to meet at St. Paul's 
 about 11 in the morning, to walk in the middle 
 aisle till 12, and after dinner from 3 to 6, during 
 which periods some spoke of business and some of 
 news. Little happened in the world which arrived 
 not here sooner or later. At these hours, I used, 
 being a young man, to mix with the choicest com- 
 pany I could find." Here, to these curious assem- 
 blages of vices, fooleries, fashions, and fancies of 
 the London of that time often came Shakspeare. 
 Here he found the models for his plays and the 
 butts for his wit. Here he found Pistol and Bar- 
 dolph, Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek 
 and Slender. " Here in St. Paul's I bought him," 
 as Falstaff says of Bardolph. 
 
 But where was he himself, " the old fat 
 knight," this flower of the genius of pothouse 
 revelry ? Nay, I think the place is not to be mis- 
 taken where the man stays whose saying is, 
 " Shall I not have mine ease in mine inn ? '* 
 The taverns— 'The Mermaid,' ' The Mitre,' 'The 
 
 H 2 
 
100 ENGLAND 
 
 Horn,' or ' The Boar's Head ' — are not far ; and 
 in one of them we shall certainly find him, for, 
 according to the code of the men of fashion of that 
 time, " He must dine at one of tho famous taverns." 
 
 But before we reach these places of merry com- 
 pany, full tankards, and sparkling wit, we have, 
 just on going out from St. Paul's, a sight worth 
 observing. Here in the churchyard, round one of 
 those street-crosses in which old London was rich, 
 sits an assemblage of pious people in the open 
 air, and under the cross stands a man in black, 
 preaching. It is a Puritan, who thunders against 
 the looseness of manners of his time, against its 
 pleasures, and, not least, against its theatres. This 
 man too and his party will have their day to 
 cleanse the churches and close the theatres. 
 
 It is said that Shakspeare made the acquaintance 
 of Sir John Oldcastle (for so the original of our 
 admirable friend, Sir John Falstaff, was called) in a 
 tavern in Eastcheap, the ' Boar's Head.' Perhaps 
 even Chaucer saw this ' Boar's Head,' for in the 
 time of Bichard II. the house and the sign existed, 
 though perhaps not as that of an inn. Among the 
 three taverns in the City, towards the end of the 
 fifteenth century, the * Boar's Head' is not men- 
 tioned ; but it received a place of honour among 
 the forty taverns which were granted to the City 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 101 
 
 in the sixteenth century by Act of Parliament; 
 and in the statistics of the year 1633, which 
 number 211 taverns, it is designated an ancient 
 tavern. Its first authentic appearance is in 
 an agreement of lease in the year 1537, when 
 it was in the hands of a widow, Joanna Broke, 
 probably the mother of William Broke, who 
 was landlord of the 'Boar's Head' till 1588, and 
 whom Thomas Wright succeeded. The original 
 sign of the ^ Boar's Head ' Tavern, a boar's head 
 carved in wood, with the date 1566, and the name 
 of the landlord at that time, William Broke, was 
 the only thing that was saved when the inn 
 was burnt down in the fire of 1666, and in July 
 1868 it was sold in an auction for 26/. sterling. 
 The building, which after the catastrophe was 
 erected on the same spot with the same sign, had 
 a stone boar's head, with the initials J. T., and 
 the date 1668; and this is now preserved in 
 Guildhall. Another relic of this second inn exists, 
 which in the year 1834 was brought before the 
 British Society of Antiquaries — a figure of the 
 noble Sir John Falstaif, carved in oak, which, in 
 the costume of the sixteenth century, had supported 
 a beam ornament over one side of the door, while the 
 figure of Prince Henry supported that on the other. 
 With these memorials of the two Shakspearian 
 

 102 ENGLAND 
 
 heroes the tavern very long enjoyed a great re- 
 nown in the neighbourhood of the Billingsgate 
 Fish-market, bore the ' Boar's Head ' on its shield, 
 and underneath the modest inscription, " This is the 
 best inn in London ;" till, at the beginning of the 
 last century, its owner at that time, perhaps in re- 
 pentance for the sins of his predecessors, male and 
 female, bequeathed this abode of Mrs. Quickly to 
 the Church of Saint Michael, that a chaplain might 
 be supported upon its income. But the * Boar' never 
 really flourished well under Church government : 
 at the beginning of this century the old nest was 
 divided between a barber and a gunsmith, over 
 whose adjoining shops the ' Boar's Head,' carved in 
 stone, was to be seen until the year 1831. Then 
 the last inmates of the ' Boar's Head ' were dis- 
 possessed, the house was pulled down to make room 
 for the new London Bridge, and exactly on the 
 spot where old Jack caroused, and, when he could 
 not pay his debts, promised marriage to the hostess, 
 with an oath over his parcel-gilt goblet, stands now 
 the statue of a man, who in his time was not less 
 corpulent but much less witty, the mounted statue 
 of Wilham lY. The parcel-gilt goblet is preserved 
 in the neighbouring Church of St. Michael, or at 
 least, the sexton says that a goblet, which he shows 
 for sixpence, is that goblet. The last landlord of the 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 103 
 
 ' Boar's Head ' whom Shakspeare can have known, 
 " John Rhodoway, Yintner at the * Bore's Head,' 
 + 1623," lies buried in the church, and the grave 
 of a drawer at the same tavern is shown in the 
 adjoining churchyard of St. Michael. The sexton 
 says it is the identical Francis, whom we know so 
 well in Shakspeare's ' Henry lY.' ; but if it really 
 were, this drawer must have reached the patriarchal 
 age, remarkable in our present proportions, of some 
 120 years or more, for he only died in 1720. Besides, 
 the inscription which adorns his resting-place calls 
 him Bob Preston : — 
 
 " Bacchus to give tHe toping world surprise, 
 Produced one sober Son, and here he lies ; 
 Tho' nurs'd among full hogsheads he defy'd 
 The charm of wine, and every vice besides. 
 O, reader, if to justice thou'rt inclined, 
 Keep honest Preston daily in thy mind, 
 He drew good wine, took care to fill his pots, 
 Had sundry virtues that outweighed hisfauts (^sic). 
 You that on Bacchus have the like dependence. 
 Pray copy Bob in measure and attendance." 
 
 The tavern which Shakspeare most frequented, 
 and where he held the longest and most famous 
 sittings with his friends, was the tavern of ' The 
 Mermaid.' It stood in Bread Street, a side street 
 from Cheapside, between the present Southwark 
 Bridge and London Bridge. A few steps from the 
 
104 ENGLAND 
 
 house in which England's greatest dramatist lin- 
 gered so often and so willingly, stood the house in 
 which, about the same time, England's greatest epic 
 poet was born, the poet of ' Paradise Lost.' So 
 near, according to time and place, moved these two 
 geniuses, who were destined to shine not far from 
 one another on ihe poetical horizon of England, 
 Shakspeare and Milton. Milton's house had the 
 sign of the ' Spread Eagle,' after the arms of his 
 family, which the poet also bore, and which, sur- 
 viving in a little blind alley in modern London, 
 *' Spread Eagle Court," indicates the spot where, 
 before the fire of 1666, stood the house in which 
 Milton was born. ' The Mermaid ' was also de- 
 stroyed in the same fire ; the place is, how^ever, 
 still shown, and a good series of traditions has been 
 preserved. The name of the landlord was Dun. 
 His guests assembled either for dinner, which was 
 taken just after twelve, or for the evening glass 
 about six, when the theatre was over. There were 
 then, of course, no bills of fare; but yet some 
 cookery books of that time remain. Perhaps it 
 may interest lady readers to learn what Mr. Dun's 
 kitchen could do for Shakspeare and his friends. 
 Here are some of its delicacies : boiled tulip-stalks ; 
 salted turkey, stewed in white wine and vinegar, 
 and served with fennel sauce ; pickled goose, with 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 105 
 
 pinks and ginger ; clover-flower jelly, and omelets 
 of mallow-stems with rose water. 
 
 But we think that the fat man at the upper end 
 of the table, who seems to say of himself, " You see 
 I have more flesh than other men, and also more 
 weakness" — we think that he holds with the 
 *^ Eoast Beef of Old England," and that he partook 
 of more sack than rosewater. " I would not give up 
 fat Jack Falstaff for half the great men of ancient 
 chronicle," says Washington Irving. " What have 
 the heroes of yore done for me, or men like me ? 
 They have conquered countries of which I do not 
 enjoy an acre, or they have gained laurels of which 
 I do not inherit a leaf, or they have furnished 
 examples of hair-brained prowess, which I have 
 neither the opportunity nor the inclination to fol- 
 low. But old Jack Falstaff! kind Jack Falstaff! 
 sweet Jack Falstaff! has enlarged the boundaries 
 of human enjoyment, he has added vast regions of 
 wit and good humour, in which the poorest man 
 may revel ; and has bequeathed a never failing 
 inheritance of jolly laughter to make mankind 
 merrier and better to the latest posterity." 
 
 Wherefore, health to the noble Sir John Falstaff, 
 and health to the noble Sir John Oldcastle, who 
 was the excellent original of this excellent cha- 
 racter ! There was, however, also a veritable Sir 
 
ion ENGLAND 
 
 John FalstafF, one of the bravest generals in tlie 
 French wars under the three Henries. He is 
 certainly not Shakspeare's Falstaff, but it is not 
 impossible that the remembrance of this soldier 
 combined with that of Oldcastle to produce him. 
 The historical Falstaff was a great benefactor of 
 Magdalen College, at Oxford, and among the pro- 
 perty which he bequeathed to it was also, strange 
 to say, a ' Boar s Head,' not indeed the tavern of 
 Eastcheap, but of another inn of the same name in 
 Southwark, which was pulled down about the same 
 time and with the same object as the other Falstaff 's 
 * Boar's Head' Tavern, in order to lay open the 
 approaches to new London Bridge. 
 
 Between eating and drinking there was vigorous 
 smoking, for since Sir Walter Raleigh brought the 
 first bag of tobacco with him from the West Indies, 
 smoking had become the fashion in the exclusive 
 circles of those days. Shakspeare's colleagues of 
 the Globe and Blackfriars Theatres — Lawrence 
 Fletcher, and John Taylor and Richard Burbage, 
 the original performers of Hamlet, Lear, and 
 Othello — smoked. Shakspeare himself does not 
 appear to have been inclined to the new habit, 
 since in none of his pieces does he mention it ; but 
 Ben Jonson must have been a friend of the " snipe's 
 head," as a pipe was then called. In his comedies it 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 107 
 
 is often mentioned. Richard Burbage was the first 
 actor of his time. " No one can be called a gentle- 
 man who is unacquainted with Dick Burbage : 
 every country maiden can tell of him," says the 
 'Return from Parnassus/ a play of the year 1602. 
 Richard Burbage must also have been a very fine 
 man. Once when he had acted Richard the Third, 
 a pretty townswoman of London fell so much in 
 love with him, that she granted him a " rendezvous," 
 under the signal-word " Richard the Third." The 
 poet of tragedy, Shakspeare, heard the agreement, 
 and resolved to undertake the adventure himself, 
 went, and really obtained admission by the signal 
 agreed upon. Later came Burbage. " Richard the 
 Third is at the door ! " said he, speaking upwards. 
 " William the Conqueror was before Richard the 
 Third," said WilUam Shakspeare, speaking down, 
 and carried the day. 
 
 Shakspeare was the most amiable and elegant 
 of companions ; Ben Jonson was somewhat more 
 heavy and ponderous. 
 
 Ben Jonson, after Shakspeare the most famous 
 dramatist of his time, had led a very eventful life. 
 First he had studied, then he was a soldier, then 
 became an actor ; he had then shot one of his 
 colleagues, and been sentenced to imprisonment 
 for life. But he was pardoned, and employed the 
 
108 ENGLAND 
 
 remainder of his existence in writing for the stage. 
 A good fellow-feeling, only disturbed once or twice 
 by passing petty jealousies, bound him to Shak- 
 speare. Both were witty, both were clever and 
 experienced in affairs of the world. Their talk 
 enlivened the entertainments at the ' Mermaid,' 
 and their wit and jokes were carried about freely 
 in London. Some of them are preserved to us. 
 One day, for instance, speaking of the motto of 
 the Globe Theatre, " All the world is a player," 
 Jonson asked, " If all the world's a stage, where 
 are the spectators, the public ? " Shakspeare imme- 
 diately answered, " Man is himself at the same time 
 actor and spectator." 
 
 Shakspeare was the more genial, but Jonson the 
 more learned of the two ; especially hc3 was a good 
 Latin scholar. Once, when Jonson had made his 
 friend godfather to one of his children, Shakspeare 
 sat at the table absorbed and melancholy. Ben 
 Jonson sought to enliven him, and asked him why 
 he was so sad. " Sad ? I ? On my word, Ben, I 
 am not sad," said Shakspeare ; " I have only been 
 reflecting a while what I shall give my godchild, 
 and now I have it." " Pray, what is it then ? " 
 inquired Jonson. " Well, Ben, I will give him a 
 dozen good Latten spoons, and you shall translate 
 them." 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 109 
 
 The subject of a verse which Shakspeare impro- 
 vised in the tavern of the * Mitre ' is a canary wine- 
 glass, once belonging to that hostel. " Had Horace 
 or Anacreon," says the poet, " drank of this wine, 
 they had been as deathless as their verses." 
 
 dear Jack Oldcastle ! stout Jack Old- 
 castle, who could sit among the players and drink 
 his glass of sack, and take his ease, and hear his 
 Will and his Ben ! 
 
 But now two o'clock is striking from the Cathe- 
 dral and we must conclude our sitting. We 
 must betake ourselves over the sea, as was said 
 in the language of that time ; that is, take a boat 
 and be rowed to one of the theatres, which whether 
 on this or that side of the Thames, lie close 
 by the shore. For at the stroke of three in the 
 afternoon the representation begins. 
 
110 ENGLAND 
 
 II. 
 
 The beau and man of fashion who in EHzabeth's 
 time takes his morning walk in St. Paul's, already 
 knows the titles of the pieces which will to day be 
 brought out in the theatres of London ; for among 
 other pious proclamations on the walls of this 
 Cathedral church there are also play-bills. For 
 the profane multitude, however, and the public in 
 general, they are affixed to the posts which have 
 been erected here and there in the streets for 
 horses to be tied to. On them we perceive the 
 seven play-bills of the seven principal theatres 
 of London ; the ' Eose,' the ' Swan,' the ' Red 
 Ox,' and the * Curtain,' probably named after a 
 picture ; and the ' Grlobe,' the * Fortune,' and 
 the ' Hope,' probably named after a figure which, 
 placed on some particularly conspicuous place of 
 these buildings, was used as its sign. The play- 
 bills of that time contained only the names of 
 the piece, its author, the troop, and its patron; 
 but no list of the dramatis personae. Unhappily 
 we possess no original of such a bill, but the 
 title-pages of the first edition of Shakspeare's 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. Ill 
 
 works may give us an idea of the style in wliicli 
 they were drawn up. Here is an example : 
 
 Her Majesty's servants will to-day produce 
 A very amusing and highly ingenious Comedy, 
 
 Entitled : 
 
 Sir John Falstaff and the Merry Wives of Windsor; 
 
 Intermixed with wonderfully varied and pleasing witticisms 
 of Sir Hugh, a Welsh Knight, of Justice Shallow, and 
 his wise cousin Slender, together with the swaggeriDgs of 
 old Pistol and 
 
 Corporal Pim, 
 
 by 
 
 William Shakspeare, 
 
 As it has been several times performed by the servants of the 
 most honourable Lord High Chamberlain, as well 
 
 before 
 
 Her Majesty as elsewhere. 
 
 Shakspeare's troop, the chief and most im- 
 portant of that time, had two theatres ; a winter 
 theatre called ' Blackfriars/ and a summer theatre 
 the ' Globe.' Blackfriars Theatre, the oldest in 
 London, and the first in which there was acting 
 of plays after 1576, stood in the neighbourhood 
 of the present Blackfriars Bridge, in the region 
 of that labyrinth of small lanes and dark courts 
 which now surround Printing-house Square. 
 Where now the four colossal steam-presses of 
 
112 ENGLAND 
 
 London work, and dark warehouse doors unceas- 
 ingly vomit forth printed packages of news- 
 papers, there formerly Shakspeare played the 
 ghost of Hamlet's father. The paper age has 
 followed the golden; Shakspeare's Theatre has 
 given place to the editing and printing houses of 
 the ' Times.' Blackfriars Theatre was a so-called 
 private theatre, that is, it was smaller than the 
 others, which, in opposition to it, were called public 
 theatres ; had a complete roof and seats in the 
 pits ; and the acting was before a select audience, 
 and by candlelight, while the daylight was arti- 
 ficially excluded. The Globe Theatre, on the other 
 hand, the summer theatre of the company, was a 
 public one ; it lay opposite on the other side of the 
 Thames in an oblique direction, and in order to 
 reach it, it was necessary to cross one of the 
 bridges or to hire a pair of sculls. 
 
 Carriages in London at that time were only rarely 
 seen. They came in with tobacco smoking, and 
 were ridiculed with it. " The first carriage," says 
 a satirist of that time, ^' was made by the devil in 
 China out of a crab's shell, and brought over to 
 England in a cloud of tobacco smoke." The first 
 carriage in London came from Holland, and was 
 given to the Queen as a present, in which she 
 drove from Whitehall to St. Paul's on the day of 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 113 
 
 the solemn thanksgiving service for the destruc- 
 tion of the Armada. Till the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century four hackney coaches, which 
 stood under the 'May Tree' in the Strand, an- 
 swered the requirements of travelling London ; 
 but the " enterprise," which had gradually com- 
 prised the number of twenty, was soon decried as 
 a public nuisance, and hackney coaches were in the 
 year 1635 plainly forbidden by a royal proclama- 
 tion, as they obstructed the- passage and made the 
 streets dangerous for His Majesty and the nobility. 
 Henceforth hackney coaches were no more driven 
 in the streets of London, but only from London 
 into the country and vice versd ; and no one was to 
 use them, except such persons as were in posi- 
 tion to keep four strong horses in the stable for 
 His Majesty's service, which, under heavy punish- 
 ment, must be ready when required. The Eepublic 
 showed itself more tolerant than the Monarchy 
 towards the forbidden comfort; in an ordinance 
 of the Lord Protector Cromwell, in the year 1654, 
 200 such carriages are allowed for the metropolis 
 and six miles round, but not more, *' as their con- 
 tinually increasing number threatens by blockading 
 our streets to become insupportable." A century 
 later there were 800 ; and in 1854 between 8000 
 and 9000 cabs, besides 3000 omnibuses. 
 
 I 
 
114 ENGLAND 
 
 The gentlemen of the Court and the cavaliers 
 of Shakspeare's time rode to the theatre, accom- 
 panied by their Irish stable-boys, who ran along 
 beside them, and by their French pages, who 
 followed them on horseback. But the majority of 
 the spectators came by water in small rowing- 
 boats. This was the favourite means of transport 
 from one part of the City to another. Those parts 
 of London which lie towards the parks and on the 
 hills were attached much later. The London of 
 that time, the City, lay almost entirely by the 
 water, and had fewer bridges than at present. 
 More than 40,000 men lived by their oars and 
 boats, and between 3000 and 4000 persons were 
 rowed every day to the theatres alone, which, 
 whether on this side of the river or that, lay close 
 to the bank. 
 
 But the Theatre had also its enemies. Already 
 we have seen that man beneath the cross at 
 St. Paul's, that clergyman, the worthy John Stock- 
 wood, who before his congregation of Puritans 
 declaims against this new misuse of time. " I say 
 nothing," cries he, " about various other sins, which 
 drag thousands along and at last drown them 
 in the stream of vanity. But look at the public 
 plays in London, and look at the crowd of men 
 that flock to them, and run after them. Consider 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 115 
 
 the gorgeous theatrical buildings, an enduring 
 monument of England's extravagance and foolish- 
 ness." Then after the preacher has depicted in 
 fiery words the horror of a theatrical exhibition, he 
 brings into connection with it the sickness which 
 raged almost every year, .and closes with the asser- 
 tion, " The cause of the plague is sin, and plays 
 are the cause of sin, therefore plays are the cause 
 of the plague." 
 
 The magistracy of London, Lord Mayor and 
 Aldermen, took up this argument. It was an- 
 nounced by this corporation, in a very learned 
 document, that to act during the plague spread the 
 contagion, and that when there was no plague it 
 produced the plague. Conformably with this it was 
 ordered that actors — with the exception of those 
 engaged in Her Majesty's service — should only 
 have permission to play when the town should be in 
 health ; that is, when not more than fifty people 
 had died in the week for three consecutive weeks. 
 There was to be no acting at all on Sundays, and 
 not later on week days than so that each of the 
 spectators could be back at his dwelling before 
 sunset, or at least before it grew dark. This very 
 wise order of a highly praiseworthy magistracy 
 had no other effect than that the theatres were not 
 built in the City, but in its outskirts, mostly by the 
 
 I 2 
 
116 ENGLAND 
 
 water ; and that Her Majesty and Her Majesty's 
 great lords took the poor persecuted actors into 
 their service, and covered them with their mantle 
 from the wisdom and prevision of the fathers of 
 the town. In this quality the actors of that time, 
 like other servants, wore the arms and colours of 
 their patrons; whoever laid hands on them had 
 to do with the lords of Her Majesty's household. 
 The members of Shakspeare's troop, and Shak- 
 speare himself, as " Her Majesty's servants," wore 
 scarlet cloaks with velvet facings. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth was a great friend and pro- 
 tectress of the Play. She and her Court considered 
 it no sin, after they had their customary church- 
 going in the morning, to conclude the Sunday 
 with a comedy ; and in their care for the pleasure 
 of the humbler classes they encouraged them to 
 follow their example. At that time Sunday was 
 not the day on which it was forbidden to the good 
 people of London, for their recreation after the 
 burden and toil of the week, to visit any kind of 
 public building but a church and a gin-palace. 
 Then Sunday was the best day for the theatres, 
 and people flocked into them to see Shakspeare 
 and to hear Shakspeare. The Queen certainly in 
 her own person never went to the theatre, but re- 
 presentations took place continually in her palaces 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 117 
 
 at Whitehall, Richmond, and Windsor ; and some 
 of Shakspeare's pieces were first brought out before 
 Her Majesty. During one of these Court representa- 
 tions in the Banqueting-Room at Whitehall, when 
 Shakspeare played the role of Henry VI. in his 
 own drama, the idea occurred to the Queen to put 
 his presence of mind to the test. " I have often 
 been told," she said, " that he possesses a great 
 talent for improvisation, well, I will convince 
 myself of it." The Queen's box was immediately 
 over the stage, and was reached by a little staircase, 
 before which stood the two body-guards of Her 
 Majesty with great halberds, in the steel of which 
 glittered the arms of the Order of the Garter, and 
 the device " Honny soit qui mal y pense." At the 
 moment when Henry YI. in the midst of his nobles 
 came on to the scene which was to represent the 
 Parliament, the Queen let her glove fall down 
 over the front of the box just at Shakspeare's feet. 
 He, as soon as he saw it fall, stepped forward 
 without any hesitation, and breaking off his speech 
 in the middle, raised the glove, with the following 
 words, which he improvised in his character as 
 king : 
 
 " And thougli now bent on this high, embassy, 
 Yet stoop we, to pick up our cousin's glove." 
 
 Then, after placing the glove on the halberd of 
 
118 ENGLAND 
 
 one of the body-guard, from which the Queen, 
 smiling, took it, he went back again, and continued 
 to play his part. A tolerably authentic anecdote 
 also tells us that we have only to thank the wish 
 of Her Majesty for the " Merry Wives of Windsor." 
 She who, like all the world at that time, enter- 
 tained a great admiration and friendship for Sir 
 John Falstaff, was very curious to learn the 
 behaviour of the fat knight in a love affair, and 
 in the company of ladies, after always hitherto 
 seeing him among men, either with his cup or in 
 battle. Here was an exercise for Shakspeare's 
 humour ! It is said that he did not take more 
 than a fortnight to produce the play. And so at the 
 end of the year 1602, shortly before Elizabeth's 
 death, the new comedy appeared, probably at 
 Windsor Castle, in which the Queen then, by 
 preference, resided, and after which, with delicate 
 courtesy, the poet named his piece. An anecdote, 
 which is certainly less authentic, adds that the 
 Queen laughed so violently over the tricks of the 
 Merry Wives and the misfortune of their knightly 
 gallant, who is thrown into the Thames in a heap 
 of dirty linen, that a cramp and cough came on, 
 which proved fatal to her. 
 
 Alas ! the poor Queen was not to die of laughter. 
 Her end was sadder. For nights she sat on her 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 119 
 
 bed weeping, bedewing the silken pillows with 
 tears, and rending the air with cries over those 
 long departed — one among them poisoned and one 
 beheaded — till at last she died in her palace of 
 Richmond, lying on the ground, with the name of 
 
 Essex on her lips 
 
 But the sun is still high, and our small vessel 
 floats on the waves of the Thames. There on the 
 right-hand shore is Bankside, the abode of pleasure 
 in Shakspeare's London, bright with the signs of 
 inns, and lively with music. There is the bear- 
 garden, and there are five out of the seven theatres 
 of London. There, where behind Southwark 
 Bridge in our London a gigantic host of chimneys 
 day and night pours forth black smoke which 
 darkens the atmosphere — where there is an inces- 
 sant roar of waggons, and a continuous smell of 
 hops and malt, and where on a soot-blackened 
 wall a board bears this inscription, " Barclay and 
 Perkin's Brewery" — on this same spot, three hun- 
 dred years ago, and under the blue sky of Shak- 
 speare's London, stood his theatre, which had for 
 its sign Hercules with the Grlobe, after which 
 it was called the Globe Theatre. It is still the 
 same unchanged Southwark, as we saw it two 
 hundred years earlier, in Chaucer's time, a rural 
 suburb with fields and gardens. Memories of 
 
120 ENGLAND 
 
 Shakspeare mingle with those of Chaucer ; the old 
 ' Tabard ' in which the Canterbury Pilgrims for- 
 merly assembled has received a gay neighbour ; 
 and as Shakspeare's genius in the ' Mermaid ' 
 is connected with that of the future, so here in 
 Southwark, where his Theatre stands, it is connected 
 with that of the past, the worthy Father of 
 English Poetry ; in this manner exhibiting, as it 
 were, backwards and forwards, the local material 
 connection between centuries. The Globe Theatre 
 is a hexagonal building of wood, almost like a 
 fort, with many windows around, which look like 
 loop-holes, with two small wooden houses on the 
 top, and a flagstaff. Now, as the clocks of London 
 strike a quarter to three, a fantastically dressed 
 man steps out of one of the little wooden houses 
 with a trumpet, to give the first signal. From all 
 the theatres in the neighbourhood sound the same 
 tones, which meet in the air, and urge to greater 
 speed the vessels with which the mirror of the 
 Thames is covered, and the riders who are coming 
 over the bridge. But before it is three o'clock the 
 trumpeter will blow twice more, and then with the 
 striking of the hour and the last flourish the 
 representation will begin, and a red silk flag will 
 appear on the flagstaff. 
 
 Meanwhile, boat is moored by boat to the bank. 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 121 
 
 the neighing and trampling of numerous horses are 
 round about the theatre, and all press towards the 
 entrance and paying-place ; the young cavalier 
 with sword and plumed hat, the solemn citizen, 
 the modest and pretty townswoman, the learned 
 man and the book-worm from Little Britain, the 
 swashbuckler from his lurking-places in the Strand, 
 the lawyer from the Temple, the country gentleman 
 from his hall at home full of falcons and terriers, 
 the runaway apprentice from the workshop, and 
 the sailor, still smelling strongly of tar, from the 
 sea ; all these are Shakspeare's audience. 
 
 The prices of admission are very diverse. The 
 cheapest places at that time as now are in the 
 gallery ; these cost about a penny. The great 
 bulk of the public crowds together in the pit, 
 which in the Globe, as in other public theatres, 
 is called the "yard." The "yard" has no roof 
 and no seats ; here reigns unlimited freedom. 
 Eain and sunshine come at will ; and for twopence 
 every British subject has here the privilege of 
 seeing, pressing and being pressed, eating apples, 
 cracking nuts, drinking beer^ playing cards, and 
 damning the performance. In this respect, if in no 
 other, the groundlings were in great consideration; 
 their applause determined the success of the piece. 
 But, nevertheless, they were accounted neither re- 
 
122 ENGLAND 
 
 spectable nor fit to judge critically, and the really 
 educated frequenter of the theatre took good care not 
 to be included among them. For about eighteen- 
 pence or two shillings, he took his seat in one of the 
 " rooms," as the boxes in Shakspeare's theatre were 
 called. Sometimes he hired his " room " for the 
 whole season, and kept the key in his own pocket. 
 It seems that the playhouses had also their 
 especial power of attraction for the equivocal 
 characters of that time ; in that respect the world 
 has remained as it was, and little arrangements 
 for suppers after the theatre were as much in 
 fashion then as they are now. There was no lack 
 of pickpockets, but the mode of their punishment 
 was original ; if they were taken in the act, they 
 were without further ceremony brought on to the 
 stage and bound to a post, and there offered a 
 worthy aim, as much for the derision as for the 
 nutshells of the groundlings. Much more than in 
 our own days was the stage then considered to 
 be for the joint amusement of the public. Only 
 the smallest part of it was appointed for the actors ; 
 more than half of it served the gallants, the wits, 
 and the men of profession and education, as a 
 place for the display of their own persons, their 
 white hands, or their silk cloaks. For a small 
 gratuity, they had here their three-legged stools. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 123 
 
 or threw themselves at length on the rush-strewn 
 floor. Eushes were at that time what carpet is 
 now ; the custom of covering the floor with them 
 was general in the palace and in the house of the 
 citizen, as we see by Holbein's English family 
 pictures ; and they were not wanting on the stage. 
 Dekker, in his * GrulFs Horn Book/ gives very 
 exact directions to the gallant how he is to behave 
 on the stage, as these gentlemen not unfrequently 
 amused themselves during the play by picking up 
 one of these green plants from the ground, and 
 with the point of it tickling the ear of his neigh- 
 bour. The perfect gallant never appeared before 
 the trumpet had been blown three times, then, 
 as the above-named Decker describes, " presently 
 advanced himself up to the throne of the stage, I 
 mean not into the Lord's room (the stage-box), 
 which is now but the stage's suburbs, but on the 
 very rushes where the comedy is to dance; yea, 
 and under the state of Cambyses himself must 
 our feathered ostrich, like a piece of ordnance, be 
 planted valiantly, because impudently beating down 
 the mews and hisses of the opposed rascality." 
 
 The marks of approval and of disapproval were 
 the same in Shakspeare's theatre as in our own. 
 The first instance of calling for a favourite author 
 was not indeed till a hundred years later, and hap- 
 
124 ENGLAND 
 
 pened to one who took upon himself to compare 
 Shakspeare with a " drunken savage;" namely Yol- 
 taire, at the first bringing out of his ' Merope ' in 
 1743. Lessing, who relates this event in his ' Ham- 
 burgische Dramaturgie' as something quite un- 
 usual, does not appear to have been much edified 
 by it. " When the representation was at an end, 
 the pit desired to see this wonderful man, and 
 called and yelled till Yoltaire appeared, and let 
 them clap and gape to their heart's content." Since 
 then, all French dramatic poets have stood in this 
 pillory; but, adds the author of 'Emilia Galotti,' 
 *' I would sooner have done away with such an evil 
 custom by my example, than by ten 'Meropes' 
 have given rise to it." 
 
 Now in Shakspeare 's Theatre there was neither 
 this nor any critic ; immediate applause decided 
 all. It is true that the gentlemen of fashion who 
 sat on the stage, had named their note-books 
 " tables," in which they eagerly wrote during the 
 representation ; but they only wrote the witticisms 
 which most pleased them, in order to carry them 
 about afterwards at the Court and the tavern, or 
 to mingle them if opportunity allowed in their con- 
 versation. To have such a book at hand_, and to 
 draw it forth at the beginning of the play, passed for 
 a sign of literary refinement and good taste. Be- 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 125 
 
 sides this, the gallant man of that time had his 
 playing cards, his snuffbox and the silver spoon 
 with which he took the snuff, his pipe, and his three 
 kinds of tobacco, of which the genuine Trinidad was 
 the most prized. To fill his pipe was the first thing 
 a cavalier did after taking his three-legged stool on 
 the stage ; then he lighted it, handing round the 
 burning match on the point of his sword, or 
 begging one of his neighbour. Smoking was at 
 that time a complete art : people learnt smoking 
 as at the present day they learn dancing ; they 
 had the most varying manners of taking the smoke 
 and blowing it out again, namely, the " whiff" and 
 the " sniff," and the " euripus," and the stage was 
 considered the best place to show what they had 
 learned from their professors. 
 
 What in Shakspeare's time was a coarseness, not 
 opposed to morality, took later the character of an 
 immorality. Ladies at that time never went to the 
 theatres, and much later, in the last part of the 
 seventeenth century, only with masks. So Pepys, 
 the diarist in the year 1663, saw a daughter of 
 Cromwell, Countess Falconberg, at the theatre ; 
 but as soon as the house began to fill she put her 
 mask on, and wore it through the performance. 
 Neither had there hitherto been any actresses, the 
 female characters were represented by boys or 
 
126 ENGLAND 
 
 young men ; and even under Charles II. it happened 
 one day, at the bringing out of one of Shakspeare's 
 pieces, that the director came to the monarch, who 
 was becoming indignant over the delay in begin- 
 ning, with the excuse, " Sire, only a few minutes 
 longer, I pray ; the queen is not yet shaved !" 
 
 But when women not only appeared in the 
 places of the spectators, but even became cus- 
 tomary on the stage, the seats of the gallants 
 excited a veritable opposition, although the morals 
 of that time were not particularly good, before 
 or behind the scenes. At any rate, the presence of 
 gentlemen on the stage caused various disturbances, 
 and as early as the year 1664 an order was made 
 that no one who did not belong to the troop 
 should be seen in the dressing-room. Later, means 
 were taken to procure a seat on the stage at a high 
 price, as, for example, half-a-guinea, in 1732, at 
 the opening of Covent Garden Theatre. But the 
 evil continued, and became no better when efforts 
 were made to correct it in another way, namely, 
 by posting sentinels on the stage " to prevent the 
 disorders which the most unmanly race of young 
 men that ever were seen in any age frequently 
 raised," as says the ' Guardian ' of April the 2nd, 
 1713. The report of that time tells of one of these 
 soldiers who, at a certain part of the piece, was so 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 127 
 
 moved that he burst into tears, whereat the company- 
 were immensely delighted. Some laughed aloud, 
 others applauded the poor fellow ; in short, such a 
 noise was made that the representation was in- 
 terrupted by it. But these guardians of order did 
 not always restrict themselves to dumb tears of 
 sympathy ; sometimes their feeling drew them 
 farther. One of them once shot an Othello, on 
 the open stage, because he could not look on while 
 that Moor murdered Desdemona. Another, in the 
 midst of the tragedy of ' The Earl of Essex,' when 
 Lady Nottingham denied having received a ring 
 from her unhappy lover, rushed forward on the 
 stage, seized the stage queen, frightened to death, 
 by the neck, and cried, " She lies; she has the ring 
 hidden in her bosom," 
 
 In Paris the war against gentlemen on the stage 
 continued till past the middle of the eighteenth 
 century. One evening, a certain actor named 
 Beaubourg, who was distinguished for his great 
 ugliness, was playing the part of Mithridates, and 
 the famous Adrienne Lecouvreur had to say to him 
 as Monime, " Ah, my lord, you alter your face ! " 
 Then the gentlemen who sat on the stage began 
 to laugh aloud, and to cry, "Let him do so. It 
 won't hurt him." This manifestation, which took 
 place in 1759, put an end to the disorder; their 
 
128 ENGLAND 
 
 privilege was bought from the hitherto favoured 
 ones for a considerable sum; and at the same 
 time Garrick, the reviver of Shakspeare, purified 
 the English stage from an abuse which, under 
 different circumstances, had in Shakspeare's time 
 formed a necessary element of it. 
 
 Shakspeare's theatre was thus :— a stage 53 feet 
 broad and 27^ feet deep; a space of 12^ feet in 
 breadth round the rest of the building, for boxes, 
 galleries, cloak-room, and passages, so that the 
 inclosed " yard " measured something like 55 feet 
 by 40 ; the walls, of wood and whitewash, nearly 
 32 feet high — all full of people smoking, brawl- 
 ing, drinking, eating, lying, sitting, and standing ; 
 and over them the roof of the sky, blue and sunny 
 to-day, to-morrow gloomy and full of rain. 
 
 The stage alone was protected from the changes 
 of the weather by a roof of straw, and the place 
 where the acting took place was divided by a 
 curtain of woven material from the place which 
 was occupied by the gallants and wits. It hung, 
 like every other curtain, by rings on a rod, and 
 was drawn apart in the middle towards each side. 
 
 Now it strikes three, and the third trumpet- 
 blast resounds from above. Immediately the cur- 
 tain moves and parts. The Prologue advances, 
 usually in a long black velvet cloak, and with a 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 129 
 
 laurel branch twined round his forehead. Some- 
 times the poet prescribes a different costume, as, 
 for example, in ' Troilus and Cressida ' : 
 
 " Hither am I come, 
 A Prologue armed." 
 
 or in * Henry the Fourth,' where Prologue appears 
 as Eumour, painted all over with tongues. He 
 recites his poetical greeting to the audience, in 
 which he at the same time w^elcomes them and pre- 
 pares them for the play, from a leaf which he holds 
 in his hand. As soon as he has ended and retired 
 the play begins. At the end of it Epilogue appears, 
 according to rule, one of the characters of the drama, 
 who invites the audience not to be niggardly in 
 their applause. " So, good night," says Puck, as 
 Epilogue in * Midsummer Night's Dream,' " Give 
 me your hands if we be friends." 
 
 After the Epilogue came the " Jig," a medley of 
 talking, singing, and dancing, also of couplet and 
 ballet, full of allusions to the events and person- 
 alities of the day, brought out by the clown of the 
 company, and accompanied by music. The con- 
 clusion of the whole representation was made by 
 all the members of the troop appearing again, 
 kneeling down round the edge of the stage, and 
 saying a prayer for the Queen — a custom which is 
 
 K 
 
130 ENGLAND 
 
 maintained to the present day in England, where 
 no play, opera, or concert is left before the National 
 Anthem has been sung. 
 
 But how did Shakspeare's stage look during the 
 representation ? Yery primitive, readers may rely 
 upon that. There was no decoration and no scenery 
 — there was nothing but a great board in the back- 
 ground, with the inscription " France," if the scene 
 lay in France, or " Yenice," and " Yerona," if the 
 poet wished to transport us to that country where 
 Othello murdered his wife out of jealousy, where 
 Eomeo and Juliet loved, and died for love. As 
 quickly as this board is changed, the scene of the 
 play changes also ; Puck himself cannot fly quicker. 
 Sometimes, in one act, we are in six different 
 corners and ends of the world, and all by means of 
 a board ! These, therefore, in Shakspeare's sense, 
 are, as Schiller says, the "boards which represent 
 the world." The floor of the stage, as has been 
 already said, is strewn with rushes, the walls are 
 hung with tapestry, and a balcony and several 
 curtains are in the background. The balcony is 
 for the sieges, when the citizens appear " on the 
 walls," or the soldiers "on the towers." The 
 curtains, called " Traverses," are for making a 
 second room on the stage when it is required ; 
 or when, as in * Hamlet,' a play occurs within a 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 131 
 
 play. They managed in all things as well as 
 they could. In one piece a Mussulman hero is 
 to be buried; the only thing the poet gives to 
 help the imaginative powers of his audience is the 
 notice, " Imagine the temple of Mohammed." In 
 another piece a peasant invites his neighbour. 
 In order to inform the spectators that the invita- 
 tion has been accepted, and that they are both come 
 into the cottage, the stage notice announces, " Here 
 a dog barks," and the scenic effect is left to the 
 actor who can bark best. Sometimes not even so 
 much as this was done to acquaint the public with 
 the where and how of the affair. In a comedy of 
 G-reene, for instance, a certain Jenkins challenges a 
 shoemaker, who has struck him, to go with him 
 " one or two miles " away, and then to fight with 
 cudgels. The shoemaker at last consents, but wishes 
 to fight as soon as possible. *' Come, Sir, will you 
 go with me outside the town ? " 
 
 Whereupon Jenkins immediately replies — "Yes, 
 Sir, come along." 
 
 In the next line they are already at the place 
 and spot. " Now we are outside the town, what 
 have you to say?" 
 
 No doubt the cudgelling begins here, for one or 
 two steps upon the stage have borne the two heroes 
 and also the public over one or two miles of 
 
 K 2 
 
132 ENGLAND 
 
 country. Still the theatre of Shakspeare was not 
 quite without arrangements for a more modest kind 
 of effect. There were, for instance, trap-doors, which 
 occupy the place of the German Versenkungen, 
 The witches' cauldron, in ' Macbeth,' went down 
 through such a trap-door. In another piece it says, 
 "The magicians strike on the ground with their 
 sticks, and a fine tree comes up from beneath." 
 There were also means of making figures float 
 above, but they were of coarser substance than the 
 invisible wires of our fairy-ballets. A piece of that 
 time says, " Yenus exit ; or, if it can be arranged, 
 let down a chain from above and draw her up." 
 In a stage inventory of the year 1598 are found 
 the following objects, which partly belonged to the 
 wardrobe, and partly compensated for the want of 
 decoration : — " Item : a rock, a prison, a jaws of 
 Hell, a Dido's grave. Item : eight spears, a staircase 
 for Phaeton for him to go up into heaven. Item : 
 two biscuits and the city of Rome. Item : a golden 
 fleece, two gibbets, one laurel-tree. Item : a wooden 
 sky, the head of old Mohammed. Item : the three 
 heads of Cerberus, a dragon in Faust, a lion, two 
 lion's heads, a great horse with its legs. Item : a 
 pair of red gloves, a papal mitre, three imperial 
 crowns, a block, for the beheading in * Black John.' 
 Item : a cauldron for the Jews. Item : four coats 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 133 
 
 for Herod, a green cloak for Mariamne, a bodice 
 for Eve, a costume for the ghost, and three hats 
 for the Spanish dons." 
 
 Of Shakspeare's theatres, that in Blackfriars 
 stood a long time, till it fell to pieces with age. 
 But the Globe had only a short life. One evening 
 in the year 1613, when Shakspeare's ' Henry YIII.' 
 was being performed, a burning splinter fell on 
 the stage, which was, exceptionally, covered with 
 a straw mat. The flames caught, tore round the 
 wooden building, and it was soon burnt to ashes. 
 
 This fire, which consumed one of Shakspeare's 
 theatres in his lifetime, was symbolical of that 
 other greater fire which fifty years after his death 
 destroyed almost that whole City which we have 
 pictured as Shakspeare's London. Of this London 
 very little remains; only memory can point out 
 the places which are associated with the story of 
 Shakspeare's life. What the fire spared has been 
 in the two following centuries thrown down, one 
 piece after another, and cleared away. Of the 
 palace at Whitehall, in which Shakspeare played 
 comedy before Queen Elizabeth, only the smallest 
 portion still stands, and that has been changed into 
 a chapel. Of the houses in which he and his friends, 
 his contemporaries, and his audience, dwelt, there is 
 not a single one to be seen. The theatres in which 
 
134 ENGLAND 
 
 all his pieces were performed the first time have 
 had no better fate; but one building of Shak- 
 speare's London still stands in its old glory — in 
 Shakspeare's days already more than six hundred 
 years old, it has since become about three hundred 
 years older — the Abbey of Westminster. The soot 
 and rust, the moss and the ivy of almost a thousand 
 years, cHng to the outer walls — to the buttresses 
 and pointed arches of this honoured minster ; and 
 in the sacred gloom that fills its arches, in the 
 solemn silence which always reigns in its choir and 
 side aisles, are the tombs of the Kings and Queens 
 of England. Here also in Poet's Corner, not far 
 from the grave of Chaucer, stands a monument of 
 white marble, which represents a man who wears 
 the picturesque costume of the time of Queen 
 Elizabeth — the broad lace collar, the richly-orna- 
 mented doublet, and the short knightly cloak. 
 He leans easily on his right arm, which rests 
 on a portion of a column, and in his left hand 
 he holds a scroll, which, half-unrolled, shows 
 the following verses : — 
 
 " The cloud capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself; 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve — " 
 
 These lines, whose echoes seem to die away 
 softly in the twilight which broods over the 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 135 
 
 graves, are Shakspeare's lines; and this monu- 
 ment, to which the bust of Milton looks, as if 
 it had on its lips the words, " What need'st thou 
 such weak witness of thy name?" is Shakspeare's 
 monument. 
 
THE COFFEE-HOUSES AND CLUBS 
 OF LONDON. 
 
THE COFFEE-HOUSES. 
 
 It was, if I mistake not, Madame de Sevigne who 
 said that " coffee and Racine would be forgotten 
 together." This sentiment would do honour to 
 the prophetic soul of that lady were it not opposed 
 to this other observation, that he wrote his verses 
 for the champ mele^ " and not for the future." 
 
 Coffee and Racine came into the world about the 
 same time ; so much is true. Racine was born in 
 the year 1639, and five years later Laroque intro- 
 duced the first coffee at Marseilles. Its reception 
 in France was not attended with enthusiasm. 
 Soliman-Aga^ Turkish Ambassador at the Court of 
 Louis XIY., between whom and the Grand Seigneur 
 was an entente cordiale^ invited once, in the year 
 1669, the nobility of Paris to take coffee with him 
 in his magnificent apartments. The French no- 
 bility arrived and were enchanted with his famous 
 slippers, but made wry faces over his '' black and 
 bitter " drink. " Perhaps," says one of their witty 
 compatriots, " the coffee would have tasted better 
 if it had been caerulean blue, or at least pearl 
 grey." 
 
140 ENGLAND 
 
 In spite of this not very encouraging experience, 
 the Ambassador's servant, an Armenian, whom in 
 French books I find called Pasqual, opened in 1670 
 the first coffee-house in Paris by the market of St. 
 G-ermain. But the public found no greater delight 
 in this new drink than the high nobility ; and the 
 next day he shut up his shop and departed for 
 London. 
 
 We may satisfy ourselves with the belief that he 
 succeeded here better than in Paris. Though 
 coffee was still a novelty, he had not the dangerous 
 responsibility of being the first to introduce it. 
 Twenty years before his arrival, during the re- 
 public of Cromwell, a Jew, called Jacobs, had 
 established a coffee-house at Oxford, and the ' Po- 
 litical Mercury' of 30th September, 1658, speaks 
 of the Sultanes' Cophee-house in Sweeting's Lane. 
 Between these two dates — either in 1652 or 1657, 
 for the dates differ — another Oriental, of the same 
 name with the Armenian, Pasqua Rosea, of Ragusa, 
 established, in company with a London coachman, 
 a third coffee-house in London, not far from the 
 Exchange. This company, through the exertions 
 of its head, attained considerable notoriety, and is 
 the starting-point for all history connected with 
 London coffee-houses. 
 
 Pasqua Rosee came to Loijdon, as the Armenian 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 141 
 
 to Paris, in the service of a nobleman, who allowed 
 him to teach his countrymen the Oriental art of 
 coffee-making. Somewhat later the head of the 
 Sultan Amurath appears to have been a very com- 
 mon sign of coffee-houses, with this subscription : — 
 
 " Morat ye great men did me call, 
 Where eare I came I conquered all." 
 
 Our Eagusan, however, took his own head, of 
 course, in effigie. That fortune and circumstances 
 favoured him has already been declared, but he was 
 not deficient in honest labour in extending this 
 subject of his commerce. Even at that time jour- 
 nals were existent, and journals bore advertise- 
 ments.* Meanwhile, from the probably moderate 
 
 * All the Journals of that time give advertisements. The 
 * London Gazette ' had a particular rubric for ** advertise- 
 ments," which indeed, compared M^ith our means of obtaining 
 publicity, have a very childish appearance. A number of the 
 ' Gazette,' for instance, that of the year 1689— which I bought 
 by auction in a second-hand shop in London — has eight notices, 
 out of which three refer to stolen, and two to lost property. 
 In the sixth a runaway son is intreated to return ; the seventh 
 heralds " A History of the Coronation of James II." ; and the 
 last is a species of educational treatise, with the title : " Earnest 
 considerations on Time and Eternit}'-, with Introductory 
 Remarks about the manner in which the Jews celebrate the 
 New Year." The price of insertion seems to us rather high 
 
142 ENGLAND 
 
 number of the subscribers to the papers of those days, 
 and the intervals of at least half a week at which 
 most of them were published, there was plenty of 
 employment in the distribution of handbills — bills 
 which were handed to the passenger along the 
 streets — a practice still in use for certain commu- 
 nications of medical and scientific matter which 
 the usually liberal advertisement sheets of English 
 papers exclude, just as it was in the days of Hogarth. 
 (Of. 'A Harlot's Progress,' plate 5.) 
 
 One of these Pascal handbills has come down to 
 posterity ; it bears the superscription ' The Virtue 
 of the Coffee-drinking, first made and publicly sold 
 in England by Pasqua Eosee.' These virtues are 
 more than one at the present day could imagine, 
 admitting all the excellent effects of a good cup of 
 
 and to have been reckoned, not by the number of lines, but 
 the value of the subject. The * Jockey Intelligencer ' of 
 1683 charged one shilling for a horse or coach, sixpence for a 
 repetition. The ' Observator Eeformed ' inserted eight lines 
 for a shilling, but the ' Country Gentleman's Courant ' took a 
 higher flight, seeing that the " advancement of trade was 
 a thing to be encouraged," and charged twopence a line in 
 consequence. Advertisements of books, as those quoted, 
 appear very early. The first theatrical announcement of 
 Lincoln's Inn Theatre is found in the ' English Post' of 1701 ; 
 and the first large page of advertisements in the style of the 
 present journals, was in the ' General Advertiser* of 1745. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 143 
 
 coffee : — " It is a simple innocent thing," says he, 
 '' and makes the heart lightsome ; it is good against 
 sore eyes, and the better if you hold your head over 
 it, and take in the steam that way. It is good for 
 a cough. It is excellent to prevent and cure the 
 dropsy, gout^ and scurvy. It is a most excellent 
 remedy against the king's evil, the spleen, hypo- 
 chondriac winds, &c. It keeps the skin white and 
 clean." As an especial advantage it is added, that 
 one may drink coffee as hot as he will without its 
 fetching the skin off the mouth or raising blisters 
 on the tongue by reason of that heat. 
 
 The subscription of the document tells us that 
 .this drink is only made and sold in St. Michael's 
 Alley, in Cornhill, by Pasqua Rosee, " under the 
 sign of his own head." 
 
 Among many other things the bill contains a 
 receipt for the making of coffee, in which it is said 
 that the berry is first to be dried in an oven, then 
 ground to powder, and then boiled with spring 
 water. This primitive prescription, which, in fact, 
 is very harmless compared to the fine meditation 
 of Brillat-Savarin about the different methods of 
 coffee-making, shows the present standing-point of 
 the English. Far removed from that elevated, one 
 might almost say ideal, conception of the famous 
 physiologist of taste, the coffee of England is de- 
 
144 ENGLAND 
 
 cidedly the very worst a man can drink ; and this, 
 combined with some other grounds of a cHmatic 
 nature, may well be the reason that in the country 
 in which it was first greeted, faith has not been 
 kept with it, and people have generally returned 
 to their natural beverage, tea. 
 
 At the time, however, to which we have referred, 
 coffee was much in vogue, and the coffee-house 
 became soon for the English — ^that is, Londoners — 
 a place of hitherto unknown pleasure and new 
 society. 
 
 There was, of course, that opposition which 
 every innovation, it seems, whether of science, 
 fashion, or gastronomy, must expect. The least 
 one could say was, that, in spite of the assurance 
 of Pasqua's handbills, it was easy to burn the 
 tongue by drinking coffee too hot. 
 
 Satire and pamphlet arose against " a sort of 
 liquor, called coffee," of which a specimen is saved 
 for us in that valuable collection of Isaac D'Israeli's 
 ' Curiosities of Literature,' ii. 322. In one of 
 these writings — * A Cup of Coffee, or Coffee in all 
 its colour' — of the year 1663, the anonymous 
 author complains over the downfall of his genera- 
 tion, whom he calls " English apes." He adjures 
 the shades of their forefathers ; and calls on Ben 
 Jonson's manly ghost, the noble phantoms of Beau- 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 145 
 
 mont and Fletcher, wlio drank pure nectar, with 
 rich canary ennobled, while these coffee-men, these 
 " sons of nought,'' gave up the pure blood of the 
 grape for a filthy drink, " syrup of soot, essence of 
 old shoes." 
 
 Still farther in his anger went the author of 
 * A Petition of Women against Coffee,' 1674, who 
 makes his fair petitioners complain " that coffee 
 made the men as unfruitful as the deserts whence 
 that unhappy berry is said to be brought, and 
 that the offspring of our mighty ancestors would 
 dwindle into a succession of apes and pigmies." 
 
 Supposing this petition against coffee to be 
 fictitious, one in real earnest very soon followed. 
 On the 21st of December, 1657, a number of the 
 bui-ghers appeared before the magistrate to com- 
 plain of a certain Farr, who, as it appears, was a 
 barber before he became a coffee-man. This James 
 Farr, the founder of the now famous ' Rainbow,' 
 was accused of making and selhng a drink, called 
 coffee, by the manufacture of which he offended 
 his neighbours with an evil smell,* and kept up a 
 
 * It is remarkable that the smell of coffee seems so 
 unpleasant to the true Briton. Each of the above-quoted 
 pamphlets calls it a " stink," and uses for the coffee-drinkers 
 the by no means elegant figure of " horses at a trough." 
 
 L 
 
146 ENGLAND 
 
 fire during the greatest part of the day and night, 
 by which his chimney and house were set burning, 
 to the great fear and danger of those who lived 
 near him. 
 
 But these prejudices and persecutions, which 
 affected not him alone, could not stop the rising 
 popularity of the new institution. 
 
 Before the conclusion of the seventeenth century, 
 the coffee-houses were one of the sights of London. 
 As such they are noted in the ' Me'moires et Ob- 
 servations faites par un Yoyageur en Angleterre' 
 (Haag, 1698), one of those small but neatly got- 
 up volumes with plates and illustrations, such 
 as came in quantities from the Dutch press, in 
 order, in the opinion of William III,, to make 
 propaganda on the Continent for the Protestant 
 succession, and against the Jacobites. In this 
 book, and in . the above-mentioned year, we find 
 under '' Caffez " : — " These kinds of houses, whose 
 number is very great in London, are exceedingly 
 comfortable. You can hear there all the news 
 before a good fire, can drink a cup of coffee or 
 anything else, and transact your business with your 
 friend, and all for a sou, supposing you feel dis- 
 inclined to give more." 
 
 This price of entrance of a sou, or rather a 
 penny, after which the coffee-houses in that time 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 147 
 
 were soon called ^^ Penny Universities," seems 
 strange to us, but still exists in some of tlie 
 London reading-rooms, where one, for this price or 
 a higher, has the paper and a cup of coffee, and 
 sometimes a cigar in addition, as, in Wylde's 
 Coffee-House, Leicester Square, and Simpson's 
 Cigar Divan, Strand. But this was not the only 
 duty of the coffee-house frequenters. As soon 
 as they entered they were informed by a large 
 set of Eegulations in verse, suspended against 
 the wall, of what they might and might not 
 do. John Timbs, in his compilation, ' Club Life 
 of London,'* which we shall make use of in the 
 course of our inquiries, has communicated to us 
 one of these civil orders. We learn from it, first, 
 that any one, of whatever position, was here wel- 
 come, there was no preference of seat (probably the 
 Continental Congresses had set the example, not to 
 
 * John Timbs, P.S. A. ' Club Life of London, with Anecdotes 
 of the Clubs, Coffee-houses, and Taverns of the Metropolis, 
 during the 17th, 18th, and i9th centuries.' 2 vols. London, 
 Bentley, 1866. Amerebook of reference, sometimes sufficiently 
 inexact, but, on the whole, a rich collection of almost inex- 
 haustible material, for the best of which Timbs, though he 
 has nowhere confessed it, is indebted to Peter Cunningham's 
 excellent 'Handbook of London.' See the review in the 
 * Athen^um,' 3rd .March, 1866. No. 2001, p. 294. 
 
U8 ENGLAND 
 
 be followed). No one had to stand up when a 
 finer person came in after him ; he who so far 
 forgot himself as to curse or quarrel must pay for 
 the first offence, twelvepence ; for others a cup of 
 coffee for every guest present. One might be 
 merry and converse, but not in too loud a tone; 
 all talk of religion and politics was expressly 
 forbidden. Cards and dice were not allowed ; 
 betting only to the extent of five shillings. The 
 last prescription was, that the guests should pay 
 their bills. 
 
 The veto on politics refers to an event in 
 Danby's Ministry, 1673-78. From the moment 
 coffee-houses became the fashion in London they 
 acquired a political significance. This was but 
 natural under the circumstances : when no Parlia- 
 ment had been called for years; when the magistrate 
 spoke no more after the opinions of the burghers ; 
 when, with one word, the constitutional voices of the 
 estates were corrupted or reduced to silence, and 
 the voice of the new fourth estate, the Press, was 
 not yet sufficiently strong to be generally heard ; 
 nothing remained but the coffee-houses, which, as 
 Macaulay says (' History of England,' chap, iii.), 
 were the " chief organs through which the public 
 opinion of the metropolis vented itself." 
 
 The rising of this new power in the State had 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 149 
 
 long been a cause of uneasiness to the Court, and 
 at the above-mentioned time an attempt was made 
 to close the coffee-houses of London. 
 
 Among the numerous tyrannical and unwise 
 political acts, which at last brought about the over- 
 throw of the Stuarts, the proclamation " concern- 
 ing the suppression of coffee-houses," December 20, 
 1675, is perhaps one of the most tyrannical and most 
 unwise. In the motives assigned for this decree 
 (communicated by D 'Israeli, * Royal Proclama- 
 tions,' iii. 379) we are told, that it was made 
 because the multitude of coffee-houses lately set up 
 and kept within this kingdom, and the great resort 
 of idle and dissipated persons to them, have pro- 
 duced very evil and dangerous effects, whilst they 
 especially tended to spread rumours, and to tempt 
 tradespeople to neglect their business, and that this 
 idle waste of time and money was becoming an 
 injury to the Commonwealth. Hence it is ordered 
 for all coffee-house keepers that they should not pre- 
 sume on or after the 10th of January next, to keep 
 a public coffee-house, or to sell, or allow the con- 
 sumption therein, of coffee, chocolate, tea, or sherbet, 
 and that they would be answerable for so doing. 
 
 But it has, as we know, always been the fate 
 of these ministerial prohibitions to give to as- 
 semblies or meetings of this kind a character, 
 
150 ENGLAND 
 
 without whicli tliey would have probably continued 
 harmless, and thereby to bring about exactly what 
 it had been the desire to avoid. Kennet, a 
 very sensible man among the Crown lawyers of 
 that time, had given an unfavourable opinion 
 of the measure ; he says that malcontents had 
 existed before they met with one another in coffee- 
 houses, and that the proclamation desired to sup- 
 press an evil which could not be suppressed. Let 
 us hear what Macaulay says : " Men of all parties 
 missed their usual places of resort so much that 
 there was an universal outcry. The Government 
 did not venture, in opposition to a feeling so strong 
 and general, to enforce a regulation of which the 
 legality might w^ell be questioned.'* 
 
 The result was that the proclamation was with- 
 drawn, and the coffee-houses were again opened, 
 under the following restrictions, that it should be 
 punishable alike for speakers and listeners to 
 spread false news and talk licentiously concerning 
 the State or Government. 
 
 Every one knows that these threats did not 
 prevent the fall of Danby and the exile of the 
 Stuarts, neither did they in the least delay them ; 
 and it would not be risking much to state that 
 those who by the royal decree were compelled to 
 be silent in the coffee-houses, greeted all the more 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 151 
 
 impetuously the Liberator and second Conqueror, 
 William of Orange, when he made his entry into 
 London on December 18th^ 1688. 
 
 Since that day coffee-houses have been an insti- 
 tution, not only of London, but of British town life, 
 especially in the last century ; and until the last 
 part of that century they held, in social and 
 political aspects, the position and importance, held 
 since then up to the present time by the clubs. 
 If we may listen to a voice which as late as 1708 
 cries out complainingly, " Who would have thought 
 London would have had near 3000 such nuisances, 
 and that coffee would have been (as now) so much 
 drunk by the best of quality and physicians ? " 
 (Hatton's ' New Yiew of London ') ; we learn 
 from it that in the course of not more than 
 50 years 3000 coffee-houses had been established 
 in London, and that they were frequented by 
 all who had any pretension to rank, education, 
 or influence. Hence, D'Israeli is right when he 
 says that the history of the coffee-houses, before 
 the introduction of clubs, would be that of the 
 manners, morals, and politics of the people, and 
 from this point of view alone have we felt our- 
 selves justified in inviting the reader to so close a 
 consideration of them. 
 
 Although every class of English society, and 
 
152 ENGLAND 
 
 every phase of English life, trade, science, litera- 
 ture, art, the theatre and fashion, — in fact, all those 
 peculiarities and eccentricities which one desig- 
 nates pre-eminently English, found their expres- 
 sion in coffee-houses, as they did later in clubs ; 
 still the first and decisive characteristic with both 
 was politics. The noteworthy fact cannot escape 
 the observer, that journals began to exist thirty 
 years before the first coffee-house, and that they 
 had already attained a certain degree of civic 
 liberty when this was opened. Without journals, 
 one of the greatest charms of the coffee-house 
 and of the club would be lacking; and so little 
 could one think of one without the other, even 
 when they were in their early childhood, that the 
 satirist whom we have quoted above, mingles 
 together '' syrup of soot " and " essence of old 
 shoes," as he euphoniously describes coffee, with 
 " diurnals and books of news :" 
 
 " Syrop of soot, or essence of old shoes, 
 Daish't with diurnals and the books of news." 
 
 The first and original form of newspapers was 
 that of a little book of news, which appeared in 
 weekly editions, exactly like that to which the 
 refined Parisians returned towards the end of the 
 second empire. We seem to read a contemporary 
 report about Rocheforf s * Lanterne,' when we read 
 
FROM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 153 
 
 what Ben Jonson, a great opponent of the awaken- 
 ing public opinion, says of these news-books : that 
 there can be in Nature no greater malady, nor any 
 greater disgrace for the time, than this hunger of 
 the public for the pamphlets which are published 
 every Saturday. 
 
 The year 1622 may be noted as that of the birth 
 of the English newspaper press. The fearful war 
 in Germany, afterwards known as the Thirty 
 Years' War, had begun ; and the desire in England 
 to obtain news of it was all the greater as an 
 English princess, Elizabeth, daughter of James I., 
 and wife of the unfortunate King of Bohemia, was 
 very nearly, at least at first, concerned in it. An 
 enterprising Irishman, Nathaniel Butter by name, 
 was the first who turned to advantage in the way 
 of trade this thirst for knowledge of the British 
 public, by publishing, after the model of 'The 
 Venetian Gazette,' ' Weekly Eelations of News,' 
 which, after several successful attempts, he con- 
 tinued in regular succession as ' The Certain Newes 
 of this Present Week,' embellished with the arms 
 of the King of Bohemia. As far as the certainty 
 of its news went, he pretends to derive them at 
 one time from an eminent Jewish merchant in 
 Germany, at another from the lovely ' Mermaid ' 
 wrecked on the coast of Greenwich. 
 
 M 
 
154 ENGLAND 
 
 Still for a whole year this paper was the only one 
 that provided England with intelligence from the 
 Continent ; whoever would understand the import- 
 ance at the time of the places and persons in 
 Germany and the events of the war, is advised 
 not to despise this * Courant.' 
 
 But with the death of Gustavus Adolphus the 
 public curiosity abated, and the business stagnated ; 
 so much so, that between the appearance of one 
 * Certain News ' and another, time enough elapsed 
 to fill the News-books with the whole of the 
 Psalms of David, and half of the New Testament 
 to boot, for want of other matter.* 
 
 English journalism received fresh food and an 
 enduring form when the civil disturbances began 
 under Charles I. On January 1st, 1642, there 
 appeared at Oxford, where the King had taken 
 up winter-quarters, the first number of the 
 ' Mercurius Aulicus,' the Court and Royalist 
 journal, which was in 1647, after the overthrow 
 of this party, when the King sat in captivity at 
 Hampton Court, followed by the ' Mercurius Prag- 
 maticus.' The opposition journal, called the 
 ' Mercurius Britannicus,' was established in August 
 
 * ' Early English Newspapers.' Cornliill Magazine, July 
 1868. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 155 
 
 1643, and was edited by Marchmont Needham. 
 This was the time of the ' Mercury/ under which 
 name new journals of every shade of party on both 
 sides sprang up, and were offered for sale in the 
 streets by women, the so-called " Mercury women." 
 The street itself was often the scene of the bitter 
 strife of these ladies, who were not contented merely 
 to sell their papers, but even took the field for the 
 opinions expressed in them with such energy, that 
 they, after belabouring each other with their fists, 
 had recourse to snuff and ground pepper to throw 
 into the eyes of their opponents, for the King or the 
 Parliament.* But the editor of the Presbyterian 
 journal, Marchmont Needham, was to meet his own 
 evil destiny. A long time the idol of the London 
 public, he fell out with those who had hitherto 
 been his patrons, the dominant Presbyterian party, 
 who suffered a free expression of opinion as little 
 as did the Stuarts, and in his disgust went over 
 to Charles I., for whom he wrote the already 
 mentioned * Mercurius Pragmaticus.' After the 
 execution of Charles I. he fell into the hands of the 
 Presbyterians, who threw him into the prison of 
 Newgate and sentenced him to death, but the 
 
 * ' Literature of the People.' AthensBum, January 1870, 
 p. 11. 
 
 M 2 
 
156 ENGLAND 
 
 Presbyterians themselves were overthrown just 
 soon enough to save his neck. Cromwell granted 
 him his life, and made him editor of the ' Mercurius 
 Politicus/ which became the journal of the Pro- 
 tectorate. Hitherto the members of the " ecclesia 
 militans " of the Press had fared by no means well ; 
 with gaol, pillory, mutilation of the body, cutting 
 off the nose^ chopping off the hand, if not even 
 with worse inflictions, they had been persecuted 
 unmercifully. The first, if only passing, gleam 
 of a better time was now to appear. Here Crom- 
 well comes in as the eminent modern character 
 which he, though long unappreciated, really is. 
 Under his Protectorate the journals knew what it 
 was to enjoy the luxury of freedom, says the latest 
 historian of the English Press.* In vain had 
 Milton begged of the Presbyterians the liberty of 
 the Press. Cromwell secured it. The true image 
 of this great man, one of the greatest history 
 knew, is only in our time fully revealed ; yet blind 
 party spite has not been able so much to blacken 
 it, but that here and there amid misrepresenta- 
 tions of opponents the truth breaks forth. The 
 elder D'Israeli, known to be a staunch Royalist, 
 
 * James Grant. ' The Newspaper Press, its origin/ &c. 
 (2 vols. London : Tinsley Brothers. 1 872.) 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 157 
 
 and fully participating in the cavalier-like horror 
 of Cromwell, is compelled to admit in his treatise 
 upon censors, that under the Protectorate this office 
 was abolished, but was reintroduced immediately 
 on the restoration of Charles II. 
 
 The censor of this reign, Eoger I'Estrange, was 
 also at the same time its journalist par excel- 
 lence. The amalgamation of the two offices was, 
 at all events as things stood, the most conve- 
 nient plan. For still the prosecution of the Press 
 continued; the evil doers were evil-intreated ' in 
 their bodies, their liberty, and honour; they were 
 sentenced to transportation and hard labour like 
 hardened criminals. Roger TEstrange, who, as a 
 true adherent of the Stuarts, had suffered so much 
 and so valiantly in their cause, that he had ex- 
 cited even Cromwell's admiration, reflected how 
 he could soften the troubles of his comrades of 
 the Press, and suggested as a milder form of 
 punishment all kinds of marks of infamy, which 
 the culprits should wear ; as, for example, instead 
 of a hat-band a rope ; or one blue stocking and 
 another red ; or a blue cap, with a red *^ T " or *' S " 
 upon it, to signify treason or sedition. 
 
 We hear nothing about his success with these 
 humane contrivances ; but he soon had himself to 
 experience the teaching of the ' Two Souls Theory,' 
 
158 ENGLAND 
 
 whilst within his breast the censor continually 
 strove with the editor. In reward for his services 
 rendered to the dynasty, the monopoly of a news- 
 paper was awarded to him, which, under the name 
 of ' The Public Intelligencer/ flourished in the first 
 year of the Eestoration. His spies went to all 
 parts of the country — spies were then what we in 
 the present day designate by the somewhat less 
 doubtful name of '' Special Correspondents." They 
 frequented St. Paul's Walk, which a few years later 
 was destroyed by the great fire, and sought for 
 news in the taverns and in the coffee-houses, then 
 just springing up. Even some " respectable per- 
 sons" made him occasional communications, with 
 the condition that he should keep their names 
 secret, for which he granted them, as a fee, the free 
 postage of their newspapers. Still, while the ' Mer- 
 cury ' women sold his journal in the streets and 
 obtained subscribers in the houses, he continually 
 trembled lest they should at the same time carry 
 about contraband wares ; and to protect them from 
 temptations to such criminal conduct he gave them, 
 besides forty shillings and some free copies, yearly 
 something still greater — dinner at Hornsey, *' with 
 coach there and back." The year of the plague, 
 1665, found him fearlessly at his post; but in 
 this year, when the Court emigrated to Oxford on 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 159 
 
 account of the fearful sickness, his well-merited pri- 
 vilege was taken from him, and the official paper, 
 the * Oxford Gazette,' was established, which still 
 exists under the title of the * London Gazette/ 
 He, the true servant of the Stuarts, experienced 
 the proverbial ingratitude of that family; and 
 as Stafford previously, when it was imparted to 
 him that Charles I. had signed his death-warrant, 
 cried out, " Nolite confidere in princibus," so now, 
 wrote Eoger 1' Estrange, ** I have been promoted to 
 beggary, shame, in short, the worst that can befall 
 a man's honour ; but God's will be done, and his 
 Majesty's." 
 
 Once again, towards the end of the reign of 
 Charles II., the much-tried journalist brought out 
 a weekly paper, in the curious form of question and 
 answer, the * Observator.' But with regard to the 
 measure which deprived him, the most official of 
 officials, of his privilege, it might well be said, " If 
 they do these things in the green tree, what shall 
 be done in the dry ?" In fact, now began an era of 
 the most complete desolation, unprofitableness, and 
 sterility for journalism. Still at the moment when 
 the Press, this public conscience, was sentenced to 
 silence, the coffee-house in a manner took its place, 
 and made itself known for the first time in its 
 full importance for political life. " Thither," says 
 
160 ENGLAND 
 
 Macaulay (i. 383), " crowded the people of London, 
 as the old people of Athens to the market-place, to 
 ask continually if there was any new thing." 
 
 But the activity of the coffee-houses extended 
 over more than London : the material of conversa- 
 tion, which was there collected, was fixed in manu- 
 script in so-called news-letters by persons who made 
 this work a special profession, and these written 
 newspapers^ which were sent weekly into the pro- 
 vinces, informed their inhabitants of all which was 
 not to be found in the printed ones. 
 
 So things continued during the reign of James 
 II. till the expulsion of the Stuarts. The day 
 after his abdication appeared immediately three 
 new newspapers; under William III., the almost 
 crushed newspaper-press rose again quickly, and 
 in the year 1694 the censorship was abolished. 
 Manifold, in the following century, were the 
 battles of the English Press, till, with complete 
 freedom, it reached the height which we see it 
 occupy at the present day. We cannot accom- 
 pany it on this long and glorious way; it was 
 sufficient for our object to point out the pecu- 
 liar connection between the coffee-house and the 
 newspaper — to show how they grew together, and 
 in the earliest stages of their development supple- 
 mented and often supported one another up to the 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 161 
 
 happy days when the classic ' Tatler ' appeared^ 
 and the short face of ' Mr. Spectator ' was seen. 
 Then in the first flowery time of Enghsh peri- 
 odical literature, with its stars, Addison and 
 Steele, London cofiee-house life stood in its zenith, 
 and having arrived at this point, we may return 
 thence to our special subject. 
 
 Each party, even each shade of a party, had its 
 particular coffee-house, in which its members met. 
 There were Whig and Tory coffee-houses, coffee- 
 houses for High Churchmen, for Latitudinarians, 
 for Papists (for England's religious belief was, 
 and is now, notoriously in part influenced by its 
 political) ; there were coffee-houses in which the 
 Scotch debated for or against the Union with 
 England, and coffee-houses in which the Jacobites 
 hobnobbed over the " black gentleman," by which 
 they understood the mole on whose hill King 
 William's horse had stumbled and broken the neck 
 of its rider. 
 
 In Daniel Defoe's * Journey through England,' 
 1714, invaluable as a history of the culture of his 
 time, there is a passage in which the famous author 
 of ' Kobinson Crusoe ' depicts fashionable life in 
 London at the beginning of the eighteenth century, 
 which will, therefore, serve as an illustration of the 
 above general remark. '' Our life," he says, " is 
 
162 ENGLAND 
 
 thus : we rise at 9, and those who attend levees are 
 employed thus till 11, or go, as in Holland, to the 
 tea-tables; at 12 the beau-monde is assembled in 
 various coffee or chocolate houses, of which the best 
 are so near one another, that we can see the society 
 of all in less than an hour. We are carried to these 
 places in a kind of chair or litter, at the very reason- 
 able cost of a guinea a week, or a shilling an hour. 
 The bearers act also as messengers^ as the gondo- 
 liers of Yenice. Different parties have their dif- 
 ferent houses, where a stranger, indeed, would be 
 well received ; but a Whig would as soon go to the 
 
 * Cocoa Tree/ or * Ozinda's,' as a Tory to St. James's. 
 The Scotch usually go to the ' British/ and a num- 
 ber of all sorts to the * Smyrna/ " There are other 
 small coffee-houses, says the tourist, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Pall Mall, — then as famous for coffee- 
 houses as now for clubs, — and the most frequented 
 were the ' Young Man's ' by officers, the * Old 
 Man's' by stockjobbers, and ^Little Man's' by 
 indifferent gamblers. 
 
 The ' Old,' ' Young,' and * Little Man,' were three 
 establishments by the Thames, not far from Charing 
 Cross and Whitehall. The ^ Old Man,' or the 
 
 * Royal Coffee-house,' was the oldest of the three, 
 and had been established under Charles II. by 
 Alexander Man, after whom later it was named. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 163 
 
 The * Young Man ' arose in the reign of William III., 
 but the former always held the precedence ; and we 
 possess a description of it by Ned Ward, one of the 
 most adventurous and notorious characters of that 
 time, a mischievous pamphleteer, many times 
 punished by pillory for slanderous libels, and at 
 last, when he would have no more to do with 
 the work of an author^ landlord of a punch-shop 
 in Holborn, in which capacity he died in 1731. 
 But all that lessens the worth of his writings, in 
 whatever disfavour they may have been held among 
 his contemporaries, is nothing to us ; and the readers 
 of Lord Macaulay's * History ' will, no doubt, re- 
 member the * London Spy,' a kind of talkative 
 description of London, of the remarkable details of 
 which the great historian has not disdained occa- 
 sionally to avail himself. Ned Ward's writings are 
 exceedingly rare ; and the writer of these lines is 
 only indebted to a fortunate chance for his ' Secret 
 History of Clubs ' * with the significant motto, 
 " Poeta qui pavide cantat, rarissime placet ;" a book, 
 shabbily bound, badly printed, and full of the 
 coarsest vulgarity, but for the subject which we 
 
 * ' The Secret History of Clubs : with their Origin, and 
 the Characters of the most noted Members thereof.' London. 
 Printed and sold by the Booksellers. 1709. 
 
164 ENGLAND 
 
 have under consideration a source of the richest 
 information. Scorned by booksellers, either ignored 
 or deservedly and severely censured by authors 
 (as, for example, in Pope's satirical poem, * The 
 Dunciad '), entirely excluded from and tabooed by 
 good society, Ned Ward was just the man to re- 
 mark that which is apt to escape the member of a 
 fraternity, and only strikes the eye of one who stands 
 without its circle, especially when malice sharpens 
 his sight, namely, the peculiar, the characteristic, 
 the ridiculous. This, in fact, makes up the sum of 
 his book, of which the epistle dedicatory is not 
 addressed, like that of most other works of his time, 
 to some great Lord, but '^ to that Luciferous and 
 Sublime Lunatic, the Emperor of the Moon, Gover- 
 nor of the Tides, Corrector of Female Constitutions, 
 Cornuted Metropolitan of all revolving Cities, and 
 principal Director of those Churches most subject 
 to mutation." 
 
 Only the irregularities of coffee-house and inn 
 life of that time are here treated of, partially 
 under highly indecorous and feigned names, in 
 a kind of prosaic history of their origin, with 
 which is united a flow of poetry, both full of in- 
 vectives and abuse which are scarcely half compre- 
 hensible to us. Nevertheless, after the deduction 
 of all of that of which we speak, there is a re- 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 165 
 
 mainder which, if we do not mind the tone, is very 
 instructive, and will add more than one feature to 
 the picture which we are now about to sketch ; 
 only we must not forget that we here have to do 
 with a man who can never feel at ease in good 
 society. 
 
 According to Ned Ward's description in the 
 * London Spy,' the ' Old Man ' must have been the 
 finest coffee-house of London. " We now ascended 
 a pair of stairs which brought us into an old- 
 fashioned room, where a gaudy crowd of odori- 
 ferous Tom-Essences were walking backwards and 
 forwards with their hats in their hands, not daring 
 to convert them to their intended use^ lest it should 
 put the foretops of their wigs into some disorder. 
 We squeezed through till we got to the end of the 
 room, where at a small table we sat down, and 
 observed that it was as great a rarity to hear any- 
 body call for a dish of Politician's Porridge, or any 
 other liquor, as it is to hear a beau call for a pipe 
 of tobacco ; their whole exercise being to charge 
 and discharge their nostrils, and keep the curls of 
 their periwigs in their proper order. The clashing 
 of their snush-box lids in opening and shutting 
 made more noise than their tongues. Bows and 
 cringes of the newest mode were here exchanged 
 twixt friend and friend with wonderful exactness. 
 
166 ENGLAND 
 
 They made a humming like so many hornets in a 
 country chimney, not with their talking, but with 
 their whispering over their new Minuets and Bories, 
 with their hands in their pockets, if only freed 
 from their snush-box."* 
 
 That which appears to have most troubled the 
 * London Spy ' was that here he could not smoke 
 at his ease. When he called for a tinder-box and 
 a pipe, certainly they brought him what he wished, 
 but as unwillingly "as if they would much rather 
 have been rid of our company ; for their tables 
 were so very neat, and shined with rubbing like 
 the upper leathers of an alderman's shoes, and as 
 brown as the top of a country housewife's cup- 
 board. The floor was as clean swept as a Sir 
 Courtly 's dining-room, which made us look round 
 to see if there were no orders hung up to impose 
 the forfeiture of so much mop-money on any person 
 that should spit out of the chimney-corner." 
 
 We see Ned Ward has here fallen into society 
 from which the sooner he removes himself the 
 better. The gentlemen of fashion of that time 
 took snuff, but they abhorred smoking, hence in the 
 coffee-houses which they frequented there was no 
 
 * By Bories are probably meant Bourrees, a kind of 
 Spanish-French dance. Vide Czerwinski, ' On Dancing,' p. 90. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 167 
 
 smoking. Here, as Macaulay says, and our * Spy ' 
 corroborates, the atmosphere was like that of a 
 perfumer's shop ; and if any booby unacquainted 
 with the ways of the house desired a pipe, the 
 ironical remarks of the whole assembly, and the 
 short replies of the waiter, soon showed him he 
 had better betake himself somewhere else. This 
 was quite the case of Ned Ward, who concludes 
 his account with the remark that his conduct at 
 the ' Old Man's ' drew the surprised faces of the 
 Sir Foplings into as many peevish wrinkles as 
 those of the beaux at the Bow Street Coffee-house, 
 near Covent Garden, when the gentleman in 
 masquerade came in among them with his oyster- 
 barrel muff and turnip buttons to ridicule their 
 fopperies. 
 
 Nevertheless, in most of the coffee-houses 
 smoking formed the chief means of entertainment. 
 Among numerous other testimony to this we have 
 also that of the * Spectator,' who, under the date 
 of July 6th, 1714 (No. 568), writes:—"! was 
 yesterday in a coffee-house, not far from the Eoyal 
 Exchange, when I observed three persons in close 
 conference over a pipe of tobacco ; upon which, 
 having filled one for my own use, I lighted it at 
 the little wax candle that stood before them ; and 
 after having thrown in two or three whiffs 
 
168 ENGLAND 
 
 amongst them, sat down, and made one of the com- 
 pany. I need not tell my reader that lighting a 
 man's pipe at the same candle is looked upon 
 amongst brother smokers as an overture to conver- 
 sation and friendship." 
 
 The * Spectator,' as also its precursor, the ' Tatler,' 
 and its successor, the *^ Guardian,' those world- 
 famed moral periodicals, which^ comprising some 
 of the most interesting years at the beginning of 
 the last century (1709-14), and written by the 
 most witty men of the time, present a picture of 
 society as it then existed, drawn with incom- 
 parable delicacy and most charming humour, 
 naturally contain also invaluable material for our 
 subject. For their authors were men of the world, 
 who moved exclusively in high society ; Addison, 
 husband of a countess, and for a time Secretary of 
 State ; Sir Kichard Steele, a Member of Parlia- 
 ment ; Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick ; and 
 many others who belonged to the most distin- 
 guished wits of the time.* They were all friends 
 to conviviality, " bon vivants " to a certain degree ; 
 
 * Addison's Contributions to tHe * Spectator ' and ' Tatler ' 
 are given in German in Adolph Stem's ' Popular Library of 
 Literature of the ISth Century,' with a Preface by H. 
 Hettner, Berlin, 1866. In the same collection may be found 
 * Swift's Diary to Stella.' 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 169 
 
 and of Dick Steele it is only too well known that 
 he loved the entertainment of the coffee-houses, and 
 the red wine of the taverns, far more than was 
 advantageous to his domestic peace or his moderate 
 income. But so much the greater will be the 
 confidence with which we trust ourselves to the 
 guidance of such hands ; and so much the more 
 faithful will be the picture, composed of those 
 many strokes and touches of reality with which 
 they understood how to enliven the classic elegance 
 of their writings. 
 
 In that often quoted passage of the * Tatler,' in 
 which its editors allot to the different coffee-houses 
 the different subjects which would offer themselves 
 for consideration in the course of their undertaking 
 (so that a stated topic might always be expected 
 with certainty at a stated coffee-house), politics fall 
 to the lot of St. James's Coffee-house. 
 
 As staunch Whigs, Addison and Steele naturally 
 chose this coffee-house, the headquarters of the 
 Whigs in St. James's Street, not ten steps from 
 the palace of the same name, in which, from Queen 
 Anne to George I Y., the monarchs of Great Britain 
 resided. Here, until the latter part of the last 
 century, the party was represented by its most 
 eminent members; from here, as long as he 
 was a Whig, Jonathan Swift (under Addison's 
 
 N 
 
170 ENGLAND 
 
 address) communicated with Stella; and here, 
 sixty years later, before the great change took 
 place in him, the youthful Burke was to be 
 seen. By that time the coffee-house had changed 
 entirely into a restaurant — the usual way with 
 coffee-houses before their total disappearance — 
 upon the establishment of clubs. St. James's 
 Coffee-house was closed in the year 1806, and on 
 the spot where it formerly stood stands now a 
 row of stately buildings looking towards Pall 
 Mall. 
 
 The ' Spectator,' and indeed the pen of Addison, 
 gives a description of the principal political coffee- 
 houses, at the time when coffee-house life had 
 reached its highest degree of refinement. It 
 appears that in March 1712, the report had spread 
 in London that Louis XIY. was dead. " As I 
 foresaw," says tbe ' Spectator,' " that this would 
 produce a new face of things in Europe_, and many 
 curious speculations in our British coffee-houses, 
 I was very desirous to learn the thought of our 
 most eminent politicians on that occasion. Since 
 every district in the city has its coffee-house, and 
 every coffee-house has some particular statesman 
 belonging to it, who is the mouth of the street 
 where he lives, this is the surest means of ascer- 
 taining the opinion of the town." 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 171 
 
 In order to reach as nearly as possible the 
 fountain-head of all news, the ' Spectator ' begins 
 his wanderings at St. James's Coffee-house. "Here 
 I found the whole outward room in a buzz of 
 politics. The speculations were but very indifferent 
 towards the door, but grew finer as you advanced 
 to the upper end of the room ; and were so very 
 much improved by a knot of theorists who sat in 
 the inner room within the steam of the coffee-pot, 
 that I there heard the whole Spanish monarchy 
 disposed of, and all the line of Bourbon provided 
 for in less than a quarter of an hour." 
 
 In a coffee-house in St. Giles's, now, as is known, 
 one of the most ill-famed, as it was then one of the 
 most aristocratic quarters of the town, and since 
 the Eevocation of the Edict of Nantes inhabited 
 principally by celebrated French refugees, the 
 * Spectator' found a table of French gentlemen, 
 who sat in judgment u])on the life and death of the 
 "Grand Monarque;" and in the ' Little Man,' al- 
 ready noticed, the sanctuarium of sharpers or false- 
 players (Addison must have meant this, although 
 he calls it ' Jenny Man's '), he saw an alerte young 
 fellow cocking his three-cornered hat, on a friend of 
 his, who entered at the same time as the 'Spectator,' 
 addressing him in the following manner, " Well, 
 Jack, the old prig is dead at last. Sharp's the 
 
 N 2 
 
172 ENGLAND 
 
 word. Now or never, boy. Up to the walls of 
 Paris directly.'* 
 
 Between Charing Cross and Covent Garden 
 there was no great difference in the aspect of 
 politics, and in one of the Temple coffee-houses, 
 he heard the circumstance discussed from a judicial 
 point of view. But in the inner part of the City 
 the case was otherwise. Here he went to a coffee- 
 house in Fish Street. The chief politician of that 
 neighbourhood, when he heard the news, after 
 first filling his pipe with tobacco and then rumi- 
 nating for a while, said : " If the King of France 
 is certainly dead, we shall have plenty of mackerel 
 this season ; our fishery will not be disturbed 
 by privateers as it has been for these ten years 
 past." 
 
 In the little coffee-house of a neighbouring alley 
 he afterwards overheard the conversation of a 
 theological Ultra and Non-juror, with a lace-dealer 
 — probably a Huguenot from Spitalfields, and in 
 that case a staunch Protestant. " The matter in 
 debate was whether the late French King was 
 most like Augustus Cassar or Nero. The contro- 
 versy was carried on with great heat on both sides ; 
 and as I was under some apprehension they would 
 appeal to me, I laid down my penny at the bar, 
 and made the best of my way to Cheapside." 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 173 
 
 In this and the neighbouring streets of the City, 
 through which at the present day during business 
 hours the stream of commerce flows, whilst after- 
 wards they lie almost deserted, there lived at that 
 time all the great merchants, whose residences 
 now stand in quite a different region of the 
 metropolis, far from their houses of business. 
 Here, therefore, at that time there was a greater 
 number of coffee-houses than in any other part of 
 London, and it was not easy for the * Spectator ' to 
 find the right one among the numerous signs 
 which appeared to invite him from all sides. The 
 politicians of these coffee-houses are men of busi- 
 ness, and the motives which influence them for or 
 against, are commercial. Owing to the difficulty 
 with which at that time news spread, that which 
 we now call " a rumour on 'Change " could not take 
 effect so generally or so quickly. According to 
 the before-mentioned assertion of the * Spectator/ 
 eight days elapsed before it was known in London 
 whether the King of France was dead or not ; and 
 when at last the contradiction of the report arrived, 
 this weighty political intelligence was still very 
 far distant from the hands of those whom it most 
 interested. Upon his entrance into the coffee- 
 room, the first thing the * Spectator ' observed was 
 a man who expressed himself as much distressed at 
 
1T4 ENGLAND 
 
 the death of the King ; but on further explanation, 
 it appeared that his sorrow had its ground, not 
 nearly so much in the loss of the monarch, as in 
 the circumstance that three days previously he 
 had sold, instead of having bought, when, in case 
 the news were confirmed, paper must inevitably 
 rise. " Upon which a haberdasher, who was the 
 oracle of the coffee-house, and had his circle of 
 admirers about him, called several to witness that 
 he had declared his opinion' above a week before 
 that the French King was certainly dead, to 
 which he added, that considering the late advices 
 we had received from France, it was impossible 
 that it could be otherwise." While he was still 
 occupied in summing up his reasons^ and dictating 
 to his hearers with great authority, the door 
 opened, and there entered a gentleman from 
 Grarraway's Coffee-house, who related, that several 
 letters had just come from France with the news 
 that the King had gone to the hunt on the same 
 morning on which the post was despatched ; where- 
 upon the haberdasher took his hat from the wooden 
 peg and returned to his shop in great consterna- 
 tion, while the stock-jobber — although we do not 
 know it positively — ^must probably have rubbed 
 his hands with pleasure. 
 
 Here the ' Spectator ' breaks off : it has, as he 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 175 
 
 says, amused him not a little, to hear in what 
 different ways men judge of one and the same 
 piece of information according to their different in- 
 terests ; and he shows us, I hope, in a very plausible 
 manner, that in this respect matters are not far 
 different now from what they were then^ when 
 political tidings, which concerned questions of 
 existence, found their way to the public, while 
 they quietly wandered from one coffee-house of 
 the Capital to another. 
 
 If we consider the defective quality of all 
 means of correspondence^ which we now possess 
 in such great completeness, we shall understand 
 the weight and importance of coffee-houses in the 
 whole political life of the nation. 
 
 Another feature, not less interesting or decisive 
 for the development of another side of public life, 
 is presented by the literary coffee-houses, which 
 introduced that which the clubs completed, and 
 which on many grounds has hitherto failed with 
 us in Germany — that is, the formation of a literary 
 class, and the solidarity of literary interests. 
 
 The oldest and most honourable of the coffee- 
 houses " sacred to polite letters," says Macaulay, 
 was 'Will's' (named after its owner William 
 Urwin) at the corner of Bow Street and Eussell 
 Street, Oovent Garden, in a neighbourhood, which 
 
176 ENGLAND 
 
 is still adorned by the principal theatres in London, 
 but was at that time particularly fashionable. 
 Macaulay's description of 'Will's ' Coffee-house has 
 been very often quoted : it is in its way as classic 
 as the classic spot itself. " Then the talk was 
 about poetical justice, and the unities of time and 
 place. There was a faction for Perrault and the 
 moderns, a faction for Boileau and the ancients. 
 One group debated whether ' Paradise Lost ' ought 
 not to have been in rhyme. To another, an 
 envious poetaster demonstrated that ' Yenice Pre- 
 served ' ought to have been hooted from the stage. 
 Under no roof was a greater variety of figures to 
 be seen. Earls in stars and garters, clergymen in 
 cassocks and bands, pert Templars, sheepish lads 
 from the Universities, translators and index-makers 
 in ragged coats of frieze. The great press was to 
 get near the chair where John Dryden sat. In 
 winter that chair was always in the warmest nook 
 by the fire ; in summer it stood in the balcony. 
 To bow to him, and to hear his opinion of Racine's 
 last tragedy, or of Bossu's treatise on epic poetry, 
 was thought a privilege. A pinch from his snuff- 
 box was an honour sufficient to turn the head of a 
 young enthusiast." 
 
 This last highly significant point the great 
 historian derived from the ' London Spy,' who 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 177 
 
 probably made but a very sorry figure among the 
 aristocrats of literature in ' Will's ' Coffee-house (be 
 calls it the Wit's Ooffee-bouse), but, nevertheless, 
 once entered it. It is described in the * London 
 Spy ' in the following terms : " Accordingly up- 
 stairs we went, and found much company but little 
 talk. We shuffled through this moving crowd of 
 philosophical mutes to the other end of the room, 
 where three or four wits of the upper class were 
 rendezvoused at a table, and were disturbing the 
 ashes of the old poets by perverting their sense. 
 At another table were seated a parcel of young, 
 raw, second-rate beaux and wits, who were con- 
 ceited if they had but the honour to dip a finger 
 and thumb into Mr. Dry den's snuff-box." 
 
 It is true that Dryden was the great household 
 god at ' Will's ' ; the fame of each, that of the poet 
 and that of the coffee-house, was about the same age, 
 and must pass together through the history of litera- 
 ture. Samuel Pepys, the diarist of the Eestoration 
 and first years of the reign of Charles II., saw him. 
 '' Dryden, the poet, whom I knew at Cambridge, 
 and all the wits of the city, and Harris, the player, 
 and Mr. Hoole of our college, sit here in the great 
 coffee-house, in which I had never been before," he 
 says, when he went one evening (Feb. 3, 1663) to 
 Covent Garden to fetch his wife, probably from 
 
178 ENGLAND 
 
 the play, which this married couple much loved. 
 Society at that time had not become accustomed to 
 late hours, for they were on the point of breaking 
 up as Pepys entered. Still it must have very 
 much pleased the worthy gentleman, for he con- 
 sidered it a very spiritual and pleasant entertain- 
 ment, and talked of coming again. But he appears 
 not to have carried out his resolution ; for in his 
 diary, kept with minute exactness, in which he 
 remarks upon every play that he saw, every man 
 with whom he spoke, every book which he read, 
 this is the sole notice of ' Will's ' Coffee-house. 
 
 When, about a hundred years later (it must have 
 been in the fiftieth year of the last century), 
 another Samuel, not less famous in English litera- 
 ture. Doctor Johnson, the great lexicographer, 
 then still an obscure man, came to collect materials 
 for the ' Life of Dry den,' there were only two old 
 people living who could remember the glory of 
 * Will's ' — Mr. Swinney, successively director of 
 Drury Lane and Haymarket (died 1754), and 
 Colley Gibber, comedian and dramatic poet (died 
 1757). What he learned from both may be 
 reduced to two lines. Gibber could only say that 
 he remembered Dryden as a decent old gentleman, 
 and umpire of the critical contests at ' Will's.' 
 Swinney's information is still narrower, and re- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POTNT OF VIEW. 179 
 
 lates only to Pryden's particular chair, which in 
 summer was named his summer-chair, and his 
 winter-chair in winter.* 
 
 This chair, which since the death of Dryden in 
 1700 had stood vacant, was again occupied in 
 1709 by a person of renown, no less than Isaac 
 BickerstafF, Esq., an old man, a philosopher, a 
 humourist, an astrologer, and a censor. It is 
 known that these were the manifold capacities 
 under which Jonathan Swift held up the weather 
 and almanack maker. Partridge, to the ridicule of 
 his contemporaries ; and we learn from the ^Tatler,' 
 in the preface, that the wit of the rector of Laracor 
 had called forth an inclination in the City for all 
 that appeared under that disguise. Steele after- 
 wards made use of the figure of this unfortunate 
 man, famed throughout all Europe, to place him 
 before the public as the editor of the new periodical, 
 the * Tatler,' and to the advantage of his authority, 
 he attributes later (in the dedication of the fourth 
 volume) the sudden success which his works 
 acquired in the world. 
 
 In the first number of the * Tatler ' (which in 
 the collections of the last century appeared as 
 
 * ' Boswell's Life of Johnson.' Routledge edition (London, 
 1863), iii. 46. 
 
180 ENGLAND 
 
 often under the title of ' The Lucubrations of 
 Isaak Bickerstaff, Esq.') is said, "All accounts 
 of gallantry, pleasure, and entertain meut, shall be 
 under the article of White's Chocolate-house; 
 Poetry under that of * Will's ' Coffee-house ; 
 Learning, under the title of Grecian; foreign 
 and domestic news you will have from St. James's 
 Coffee-house ; and what else I shall on any other 
 subject offer shall be dated from my own apart- 
 ment." 
 
 We may consider that only a feeling of reve- 
 rence, of courtesy, perhaps, induced the editors of 
 the * Tatler ' to misrepresent the seat of Poetry as 
 being at * Will's ;' that was at one time the case, but 
 the special glory of this coffee-house, after lasting 
 for forty years, passed away with Dryden. For 
 although Addison is sufficiently courteous to the 
 shade of this poet, to say, in that number of 
 the * Spectator' in which he registers the poli- 
 tical opinions of the different coffee-houses upon 
 the death of Louis XIV : — " On my going into 
 ' Will's ' I found their discourse was gone off from 
 the death of the French King to that of Monsieur 
 Boileau, Racine, Corneille, and several other poets, 
 whom they regretted on this occasion as persons 
 who would have obliged the world with very 
 noble elegies on the death of so great a prince, 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 181 
 
 and so eminent a patron of learning." In spite 
 of this graceful homage at the graves of the re- 
 nowned, Steele was probably more sincere when 
 he acknowledged, in the first number of the 
 'Tatler': "This place is very much altered since 
 Mr. Dryden frequented it : where you used to 
 see soDgs, epigrams, and satyrs, in the hands of 
 every man you met, you have now only a pack of 
 cards ; and instead of the cavils about the turn of 
 the expression^ the elegance of the style, and the 
 like, the learned now dispute only about the truth 
 of the game." And in No. IG : " We used to sit 
 here in old times in judgment over a game of chess, 
 but the entertainment is now in quite another 
 direction." The truth is not that the coffee-house 
 was untrue to its company, but that the company 
 was untrue to the coffee-house. 
 
 When the continuation of the ' Tatler ' had 
 dropped the guise of ' Censor of Great Britain '■ — 
 which had become burdensome to him, as every 
 one who had borne it knew — henceforth to pay 
 his respects in the character of Mr. Spectator, 
 Button s Coffee-house had stepped into the place 
 of ' Will's.' The new generation of wits assembled 
 here around a new centre — Addison. When he 
 returned from his post in Dublin, after the over- 
 throw of the Whig and Marlborough adminis- 
 
182 ENGLAND 
 
 tration, Daniel Button, a servant of the Countess 
 of Warwick, whom Addison afterwards married, 
 had opened the new coffee-house in the same 
 street as, and exactly opposite to the old one, 
 and Addison became its great patron. This 
 became Addison's coffee-house, as that had been 
 Dryden's. Here the poet celebrated the triumph 
 of his 'Cato;' but hither he also came after his 
 marriage with the Countess of Warwick, to forget 
 in the midst of his good friends of yore that he 
 had married discord in noble life, and that the 
 noble Countess had given him, as Lady Howard 
 previously gave Dryden, " the heraldry of the 
 hand, not of the heart." Often he sat here till late 
 into the night, longer than Dryden formerly sat 
 in his coffee-house ; the bottle of red wine stood on 
 the table, and we may imagine what advice brave 
 Steele, honest Dick, gave to her and him, his old 
 friend, who was unhappy — although he had a 
 Countess for his wife, the Palace of Holland 
 House for his residence, and no debts — far more 
 unhappy than he, the author of the ^Christian 
 Hero,' who wrote his wife the tenderest letters from 
 the debtor's prison. Pope also used to come to 
 Button's Coffee-house, till one day he was soundly 
 beaten with a birch stick by Ambrose Philips, 
 the pastoral poet, on account of an unfavourable 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 183 
 
 criticism upon some of his idylls. And hither, 
 lastly, came Swift, " the mad doctor," as they called 
 him. One evening when Addison and the rest of 
 the company were here, there also appeared a man 
 in great boots, evidently just come in from the 
 country. Swift looked at him long, at last ap- 
 proached him, and without farther introduction 
 inquired, "Excuse me, Sir, have you ever seen 
 such good weather in this world ?" When the man 
 addressed had wondered a little at the peculiarity 
 of Swift's manner, and of his question, he made 
 answer : " Yes, Sir, thank God, I have seen many 
 good days." " That is more than I can say," 
 returned Swift ; " I cannot reraember any weather 
 which was neither too hot, too cold, too wet, or 
 too dry ; but God Almighty manages to arrange 
 it so that it all comes to the same thing at the end 
 of the year." 
 
 Button's Coffee-house is only occasionally men- 
 tioned in the ' Spectator ;' the ' Guardian ' (the 
 third and last of the periodicals edited jointly by 
 Addison and Steele) first placed before this place 
 of assembly for wits that letter-box in the form of 
 a lion's head with open jaws, which appears to 
 have made no small sensation in the London of 
 that time. The head was an imitation of that of 
 the Doge s palace at Yenice, through which all the 
 
184 ENGLAND 
 
 secret information of that Eepublic passed. It 
 opened its wide mouth ready to take in and devour 
 any letters or treatises destined for the * Gruardian.' 
 This lion's head, designed by Hogarth, described 
 by Steele as an excellent work, and in July 1713 
 set up at the western side of the coffee-house, is 
 the sole thing that remains of Button's. When 
 the periodical ceased with the number for October 
 1st, 1713, the lion's head, after passing through 
 many hands, came at last into the possession of 
 the Duke of Bedford, at whose country seat at 
 Woburn it is preserved. But the coffee-house was 
 pulled down in the year 1865. I myself remember 
 to have seen it. Often have I come into this 
 neighbourhood, standing between the two houses, 
 in the comparatively quiet street, to think of the 
 departed times and men. On the right was Co vent 
 Garden, whose two piazzas — once highly fashion- 
 able, the great and the little piazza, built after the 
 designs of Inigo Jones, surrounded by red brick 
 houses with balconies — have long ago been changed 
 into the famous vegetable market ; on the left 
 was Drury Lane, the old street and the theatre 
 blackened by smoke and soot, if not by age. 
 In a little side street, Maiden Lane, in the 
 time of Queen Anne inhabited by the finest 
 milhners, there lived in the house of " the white 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 185 
 
 peruke," Yoltaire (1728-30), when he was writing 
 his 'Lettres de Londres snr les Anglais;' and 
 before me, over the arches of the Adelphi, rose 
 the terrace on which the * New Exchange ' Bazaar 
 exhibited its tempting treasures in gloves, rib- 
 bons, and choice of fine essences, to the fair world 
 in hoop-petticoat and peruke. * Will's ' Coffee- 
 house alone survives, but it is now inhabited by 
 a respectable butcher. 
 
 " Sic transit gloria mundi." 
 
 Our subject is still far from being exhausted ; 
 how could one think of completeness, when the 
 title of the coffee-houses in London would fill more 
 leaves than we have here designed to employ for 
 their history? To describe the particular pheno- 
 mena of a certain characteristic time, the focus 
 of public life, with some of the persons who 
 have left the impress of their mind upon the 
 time, this was rather the task which we set before 
 us, not a nomenclature. We wished to prove, by 
 some examples, how very early we may discern 
 in England, even on this ground, the appearance 
 of a regular strife against arbitrariness, a wise 
 use of victory, and a constant tendency towards 
 association of interests. We had then in Ger- 
 many scarcely any national life ; and in our towns 
 
 o 
 
186 ENGLAND 
 
 had certainly nothing which at that time we 
 could have set beside the coffee-houses of London 
 and of Paris, as we know them from Rameau s 
 ' Neffen,' to adduce one example instead of many 
 — these meeting places for the originating of 
 political plans and for intellectual intercourse, 
 whose rays and beams extend in all directions — 
 these places of learning with select conversation 
 and refined society, in which science and life met 
 together. 
 
 And yet, as we have said, the political and 
 literary coffee-houses constitute but a small part 
 of the number of those in which every position 
 and every calling found its representative. For it 
 is this principle of general interest, under which 
 the different forms of the same appearance assume, 
 far above an anecdotal, a truly historical aspect; 
 and it is this principle which points impressively 
 to that so called practical side of the English, which 
 at all times and everywhere has so fortunately pre- 
 served them from pedantry. Has it at all injm-ed 
 the immortality of Sir Isaac Newton, that, after 
 the sittings of the Eoyal Society, of which, as we 
 know, he was President, he betook himself to the 
 Grecian, there to spend the evening in the society 
 of his two secretaries, Dr. Halley and Keil, and 
 other professors from Oxford, perhaps at the same 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 187 
 
 table with Mr. Spectator, whose face, as he informs 
 us in No. I., is very well known in this coffee- 
 house ; whilst at another table " there are inquiries 
 about Antiquity, and the heroic deeds of Homer's 
 ' Iliad ' ? " (* Tatler,' No. 6.) As theologians, 
 the Doctors of Divinity also had their coffee- 
 house, Child's, in St. Paul's Churchyard, close to 
 the chief Cathedral of London. Prelates have 
 always been liberal patrons of landlords, from 
 that Walter Mapes, who composed the noble 
 drinking-song, ^Mihi est propositum in taberna 
 mori ' (translated by Biirger, ' Ich will einst bei Ja 
 und Nein, vor dem Zapfen sterben ') to Lawrence 
 Sterne, "the sentimental travelling Yorick," who 
 once gave out the text, " It is better to go into the 
 house of mourning than the house of feasting," 
 and began his sermon with the words " I dispute 
 that." A certain coffee-house in Cheapside, called 
 the ' Chapter,' was famed for the so-called '* Three- 
 penny Curates," clerical day-labourers who were 
 hired for two pence and a cup of coffee to hold 
 service anywhere within the boundary. Doctors 
 of Medicine were at Grarraway's; lawyers in the 
 neighbourhood of the three great inns — ^Lincoln's 
 Inn, Gray s Inn, but especially near the Temple, 
 in Fleet Street. The coffee-house of the painters 
 (old Slaughter's) was in St. Martin's Lane, in the 
 
 o 2 
 
188 ENGLAND 
 
 vicinity of the present National Gallery ; and that 
 of the booksellers (the Chapter Coffee-house) was 
 naturally in Paternoster Row, the home of the 
 English book-trade; that narrow, gloomy street 
 under the shadow of St. Paul's, in which, whilst 
 all around the mighty roar of London is like the 
 raging of an unseen sea, no waggon drives, no 
 noise is heard, so that nothing disturbs the reflec- 
 tion of the " Fathers of the Row," or the solemn 
 stillness of the immense shops, in which, house by 
 house and wall by wall, are stored packets of books 
 behind dusty windows, as high up even as the sooty 
 roofs. The Chapter Coffee-house still stood, for- 
 saken by its old spirit, empty and uninhabited, in 
 the year 1848, when Mrs. Gaskell visited it. It had 
 the appearance of a dwelling-house two hundred 
 years old, such as one sometimes sees in old country 
 towns ; small, low rooms, with heavy beams across 
 the ceilings; walls wainscoated breast-high, and 
 shallow, broad^ and dark stairs. This was the 
 coffee-house in which a hundred years ago all the 
 booksellers and publishers met, and to which 
 the literary hack, the critic, and even the wit, 
 used to go to seek ideas or employment. But 
 that, however the honourable company may have 
 changed, their views on certain literary matters 
 remain the same, we may learn from the following 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 189 
 
 passage in the first number of the * Connoisseur ' 
 (a periodical of the year 1754), which says, "When 
 the booksellers speak of a good book, they neither 
 intend to praise the style or the sense, but only 
 its rapid and wide sale. That book is the best 
 which sells the best." 
 
 Of the coffee-houses of that period, those of 
 the merchants in the neighbourhood of the Ex- 
 change and Change Alley, in name, design, and 
 locality, existed the longest; some even remain 
 to the present time. Garraway's was first closed 
 on August 11th, 1866. "Delicacy of feeling is 
 no article in City life," says the ' Illustrated London 
 News,' in the farewell words which it devotes to 
 the venerable establishment. Ground is sold at a 
 considerable sum in these days of love of building. 
 Garraway*s was one of the oldest coffee-houses in 
 London; its first possessor, Thomas Garraway, 
 " Tobacco-dealer and coffee-man." Twice, in the 
 great fires of 1666 and 1748, the house was burnt 
 down, and twice it was rebuilt. From the time of 
 its establishment in the seventeenth century, it was 
 a place for auctions ; at first of wine, then of tea, at 
 last of mahogany and logwood. During the year 
 of the South Sea scheme, the waves of speculation 
 and of swindling rose nowhere higher than here. 
 In a poem on this subject, Swift says that Change 
 
190 ENGLAND 
 
 Alley is a gulf deep as hell, in which thousands 
 are wrecked, and Garraway's is the rock on which 
 the wild race of wreckers lie in ambush to plunder 
 those who are cast ashore. The great auction-room 
 was on the first floor ; here public sales took place 
 "by the candle," that is, at the beginning the 
 auctioneer lighted a little piece of wax candle, 
 usually an inch in length, and then decided in 
 favour of him who, when the light went out, had 
 made the highest bid. Twenty or thirty sales on 
 an average were undertaken here every day. The 
 refreshment-rooms were on the ground-floor, and 
 the great meeting-place from ten in the morning till 
 nine in the evening was the bar ; the sandwiches 
 (a kind of overlaid bread and butter) of Garraway's 
 were famous. Until the last the walls of the 
 locality were covered with auction placards ; a sign 
 of tbe change of possession to which this house 
 itself was at last obliged to succumb. 
 
 Jonathan's Coffee-house has, up to the present, 
 escaped a similar fate : it was a place for stock- 
 jobbers as early as the time of ''Mr. Spectator," 
 who in that assemblage was often taken for a Jew ; 
 and Lloyd's, of world-wide renown, as far as ships 
 sail, and wares go under insurance across the sea, 
 is at present greater and more flourishing than it 
 has ever previously been, although, as far as age 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 191 
 
 is concerned, it may vie with the oldest houses of 
 this kind. Lloyd's Coffee-house is one of the oldest 
 in London ; we find the name mentioned in the 
 * Tatler ' and in the ^ Spectator ' as early as the 
 year 1700. Nevertheless, it is in fact only this 
 name which it has preserved ; for it was trans- 
 ferred from the original building to the Exchange 
 as early as the year 1774 ; and there in the north- 
 western corner, after the Exchange had been 
 burnt down in 1838, and erected anew in 1841, the 
 coffee-house still remains. A noble flight of steps 
 leads from the great quadrangle of the Koyal Ex- 
 change up to the handsome vestibule, where stands 
 a statue of Prince Albert in remembrance of the 
 laying of the foundation-stone ; and a marble tablet, 
 let into the wall, the so-called " Times Testimonial," 
 relates the history of that great and widely rami- 
 fying fraud which threatened the existence of 
 the banks of all European commercial towns, 
 but which was happily exposed in time by the 
 ' Times.' As the proprietors refused every com- 
 pensation in money, the grateful City erected this 
 monument to the great journal^ and established 
 over and above (cere perennius) two ' Times ' 
 pensions. Lloyd's is the great centre of the orga- 
 nisation of the City, and of all its interests, which, 
 scattered over wide and stormy seas, reach the 
 
192 ENGLAND 
 
 most distant shores. Its illimitable cords — one 
 might call them the nervous system of the world, 
 which encompasses it and agitates its smallest 
 point — here mingle in one room, which is no 
 larger than any other apartment in which coffee 
 is drunk and cigars are smoked. It is very difficult 
 to give an idea of it. 
 
 Every one who is in this room has, by the last 
 intelligence, the position of the globe before his 
 eyes, trade and politics, wind and weather : he hears 
 the roaring of the storm which rages in the Indian 
 Ocean, and he sees the iceberg which endangers 
 the Liverpool Packet on the coast of Canada. An 
 instrument, the so-called anemometer, is here put 
 up, with very fine machinery, which shows every 
 change of every wind which blows, its direction 
 and power, as well as the quantity of falling rain. 
 Two great folios bound in leather, on high stands, 
 on the right and left of the entrance, contain, 
 one, the intelligence of all the ships which have 
 gone into any haven in the world ; the other, the 
 accidents at sea. After a storm great crowds 
 throng around the two books, whose contents are 
 published in print every evening as ' Lloyd's List.' 
 Here may be seen the faces and costumes of every 
 zone. Hither come captains to conclude in their 
 room, the Captain's Room, contracts for new 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 193 
 
 journeys ; hither also shipowners and underwriters, 
 in the underwriters' room, to do the business 
 of insurance. Here the body of a ship is weighed 
 as one weighs a handful of corn ; the names, 
 the numbers, the tonnage, the crew, the losses 
 and profits of each separate vessel in the British 
 merchant service, are here precisely known. No 
 English merchantman may leave an English port 
 without having been previously declared sea- 
 worthy, and then entered in ' Lloyd's Register ;' * 
 every ship carries her certificate, and the amount 
 of insurance is determined accordingly. The third 
 room at Lloyd's is the Merchants' Room, a 
 reading-room, with a supply of newspapers, of 
 which one can hardly form an approximate idea. 
 The great expenses of this establishment are 
 defrayed partly by the returns of ' Lloyd's Lists,' 
 subscriptions, and insurances, partly by the con- 
 tributions of the members, about 2000. For 
 although Lloyd's still has the name of a coffee- 
 house, it is in reality a modern club, with ballot 
 and entrance-fee of new members, and regular 
 subscriptions from the old. Lloyd's has had this 
 
 * This Kegister, ' Lloyd's Register of British and Foreign 
 Shipping,' is kept at No. 2, White Lion Court, Cornhill, and 
 was established in the year 1834. 
 
194 ENGLAND 
 
 character since it came into The Exchange in 
 1774, the year which denoted the period when 
 the old coffee-houses of London began to change 
 into the modern clubs. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 195 
 
 II. 
 
 THE CLUBS. 
 
 It is difficult to say when this process of change 
 was completed; such periods cannot be precisely 
 determined : this much is certain, that there are 
 no more coffee-houses in London, and the name, 
 where it is found, designates something quite 
 different. A coffee-house in London of the pre- 
 sent day is an eating-house of the third rank ; 
 in hotels of the second rank the " coffee-room " 
 signifies the dining-room ; and in an hotel of 
 the first rank the room for breakfast and supper. 
 The coffee-room serves also for strangers in the 
 hotel, when they only have beds, the place of 
 sitting-room, in which they assemble, sometimes 
 in slippers, to read the newspapers, to write 
 their letters, or to take their afternoon nap on a 
 sofa or in a chair. In the large hotels the so- 
 called coffee-room is a most elegant saloon, fur- 
 nished with English comfort and French elegance, 
 where one moves about upon carpets, and every 
 word that is said is only a whisper ; but in middle- 
 class hotels it is really a reminiscence of the old 
 coffee-houses, a heritage of the tavern, which the 
 
196 ENGLAND 
 
 destruction of the coffee-house has bequeathed to 
 the club. The number of taverns, too, in London 
 is considered to be on the decrease. " Under this 
 consecrated word," says an author in 'London 
 Society' (March 1866), *'we understand the re- 
 gular old-fashioned and dark-tabled room, with 
 its green or red curtains, in which our grand- 
 fathers and great grandfathers, and their great 
 grandfathers before them, ate their suppers^ drank 
 their port wine and punch, smoked their pipes, 
 and talked of politics and literature." 
 : There are now few of these venerable houses 
 in London, but some still exist in Drury Lane 
 and in the neighbourhood of the Temple ; and 
 who, with a predilection for old London, will 
 not once have visited one of them, ' The Cock,' or 
 ' The Cheshire Cheese,' or ' The Mitre,' to look 
 out from the richly-browned coffee-room on to 
 the quiet court of the Temple, with a row of trees 
 in the middle^ on which the dreamy afternoon 
 sun shines, while memory, so to speak, encircles 
 the ceiling with a garland of leaves from the 
 ' Tatler ' and ' Spectator ?' 
 
 "Sir," said Dr. Johnsou, to his 'Eckermann' 
 Boswell, "there is no other place in the world, 
 where the more noise you make, the more wel- 
 come you are." 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 197 
 
 The Doctor was the great patron, the "vates 
 sacer" of taverns, although he also contributed 
 his portion to the cultivation of club life, as it is 
 now understood. 
 
 The word club, or Klub, is as much German as 
 English ; the Anglo-Saxon root clypian, or clypan, 
 English, cleave; German, kleiben; hence Kluppe, 
 Klubb, Club, something split up, and at the same 
 time holding closely together, the signification, in 
 our derived use, of an exclusive company and its 
 locality. Sanders' ' Dictionary of the German lan- 
 guage,' pp. 944 and 946. 
 
 The Club is a union which rests upon division ; 
 that is, of charges and expenses, and its central 
 point, naturally, the covered table. "Our modern 
 celebrated clubs," says No. 9 of the * Spectator,' 
 " are founded upon eating and drinking, which are 
 points wherein most men agree, and in which 
 the learned and the illiterate, the dull and the 
 airy, the philosopher and the buffoon, all of 
 them bear a part." 
 
 Clubs of this kind we have had also in Ger- 
 many, and still have at the present day; and 
 historical names, as the Jacobin Club and the 
 Clubbists of Mentz, to which may be added the 
 different Clubs of Frankfort at the time of the 
 assembly of the States of the German Empire, 
 
198 ENGLAND 
 
 show that the idea was brought forward also on 
 other, higher grounds, in periods of political move- 
 ment. Still England is the land in which the 
 club had its special development, and is the sole 
 home of the modern club, which we find nowhere 
 else as a popular element in public life. 
 
 Certainly those small nightly assemblies, usually 
 known under the name of clubs, were formed and 
 subsisted close to the coffee-houses, and at the time 
 of their greatest prosperity; still their acknow- 
 ledged object was only that first and most natural 
 bond between sociable animals — eating. Intellec- 
 tual food was sought in the coffee-houses, material 
 food in the taverns and clubs. The tavern was 
 the place in which the club was held. As still 
 in many parts of Germany people join for a 
 Martinmas goose, so they did then in London for 
 various things, only regularly and continuously. 
 " Eeasons are as plentiful as blackberries," and Ihe 
 good Londoners of that time made use of every 
 occasion for worthy doing, statesmen, plain citi- 
 zens, men of letters, " histriones, balatrones, et hoc 
 genus omne ,•" at last each street had its particular 
 clubs, the so-called Street Clubs. This was from 
 the beginning the mark which distinguished the 
 club from the coffee-house, and which has re- 
 mained as the foundation of the modern club 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 199 
 
 system; only members had admission, who were 
 received according to rules, and paid their por- 
 tion. Perhaps it is this continuity in the deve- 
 lopment of a social institution, which thereby 
 becomes historical, that most attracts the inquirer, 
 as it presents to the reader the most instructive 
 part, perhaps, of our theme. 
 
 We find the word " Club " used with its present 
 meaning even before the Civil war; for instance, in 
 a poem of Sir William Davenant, " The Long Vaca- 
 tion in London," in which the poet depicts how in 
 the time of the Long Vacation the streets of London 
 are desolate, because all betake themselves to the 
 country : — 
 
 " Our mules are come ! dissolve the club ! 
 The world till term is * rub, O rub ! ' " 
 
 There is no doubt that this poem was written by 
 the former General Intendant of Royal Plays under 
 Charles II., whilst Davenant was still Poet Laureate 
 to Charles I., for in it mention is made of the Globe 
 Theatre, which was pulled down in 1647, and of 
 the Bull Theatre^ which, at the time of the Resto- 
 ration, stood so neglected that Davenant says, in 
 his 'Playhouse to be Let' (1663), "it has no 
 other inhabitants than spiders." * 
 
 * Payne Collier. ' History of English Dramatic Poetry,* 
 iii. 302, 328. 
 
200 ENGLAND 
 
 During the Eepublic, and under the Protecto- 
 rate, there existed a club, by no means unim- 
 portant in the history of that time, the Eota 
 Ckib, a social union founded by Harrington, the 
 author of * Oceana,' for the object of political 
 discussion, to which, among others, belonged Mil- 
 ton's pupil and friend, Cyriac Skinner. The 
 meetings took place in the * Turk's Head,' a coffee- 
 house in New Palace Yard, in the vicinity of 
 Westminster Hall. They sat at a round table, the 
 table of old knighthood and of modern equality, 
 with a passage through, so that they might have 
 their coffee warm, without interruption of the de- 
 bates. The resolutions were decided by ballot, by 
 means of a balloting-box ; and Harrington says of 
 this box, that there was no false play in it, " a box 
 in which there is no cogging." Discussions were 
 publicly held here upon questions of political 
 organisation, in a feeling but little friendly to 
 Cromwell's Grovernment, so that there was fre- 
 quent temptation to close the sittings by military 
 power. But Cromwell contented himself with 
 watching over these philosophic coteries without 
 persecuting them.* 
 
 * Guizot's *Histoire de la Eevolution d'Angleterre,' iv. 
 104, 105. D'Israeli's ' Amenities of Literature,' p. 699. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 201 
 
 Bj a similar union the " G-reen Ribbon 
 Club " was formed under Charles II., which 
 held its sitting under the house-sign of King 
 Henry VIII., opposite the Temple, and among 
 whose members during the last year of the Pro- 
 tectorate was Andrew Marvel the poet, and 
 Milton's assistant. 
 
 But those clubs of whose history we are 
 more exactly informed began in the time of 
 Queen Anne, a time of greater intellectual free- 
 dom, and of more social activity. The oldest 
 and most considerable of them was the Kit- 
 Kat Club, which, as the ' Spectator ' says, owes 
 its origin to a mutton-pie. This means that 
 the club met at first in the house of a pastry- 
 cook, by name Christopher Katt^ or according 
 to others, Christopher, the sign of whose house 
 showed one of those incomprehensible, but tho- 
 roughly English combinations, the * Cat and 
 Fiddle,' so that ■" Kit " (abbreviation of Chris- 
 topher) and " Kat " could be explained in one 
 way or the other. At any rate, the mutton- 
 pie appears to have been the great medium 
 through which the members of this club in 
 the time of good Queen Anne came together 
 in a brotherly manner. The Kit-Kat consisted 
 of forty members, noblemen, men of position, 
 
 p 
 
202 ENGLAND 
 
 rank and influence, authors of distinction ; all 
 the forty no less sincere lovers of pie than 
 devoted friends of the House of Hanover, and 
 zealous supporters of the Protestant succession in 
 Parliament and in the Press. Six dukes (among 
 them the great Marlborough, Grerman Prince of 
 Mindelheim) and five counts — the celebrities of 
 the Whigs of King William's time ; Sunderland, 
 Halifax, and Somers, and the leading minister 
 of the coming era^ Sir Eobert Walpole, sat, ate, 
 and drank here amicably with the two fashion- 
 able comedy writers, Yanbrugh and Congreve, 
 with Addison and Steele, those Dioscuri whose 
 names were never wanting in the social lists of 
 that time; together with a whole troop of other 
 witty celebrities, among whom Sir Samuel Garth, 
 afterwards physician to the King, did not hold 
 the lowest position. One evening he came into 
 the club with a list of fifteen patients, whom 
 he had yet to visit. " Deuce take them," he 
 cried, when Steele maliciously reminded him 
 of it, "nine of them are so ill that no physi- 
 cian can help them, and six so well that no 
 physician can hurt them 1 " Also Sir Grodfrey 
 Kneller, born at Lubeck, the Court painter to 
 two monarchs^ and the immortaliser of countless 
 beauties, who without him would probably have 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 203 
 
 been forgotten,* was of the party ; and he painted 
 the portraits of the whole club in a series of pic- 
 tures, the so-called Kit-Kat portraits, which were 
 to be seen, the property of one person, at the two 
 exhibitions of Manchester (1857), and of Kensing- 
 ton (1862), certainly well worth seeing, as the 
 first celebrities of an historically-distinguished 
 time, and painted by the first painter of that 
 time; who was so little gallant withal, and so 
 avaricious, that he only sketched the faces of the 
 great ladies who came to his studio, and after- 
 wards added the figure and hands of his maid- 
 servant. Perhaps this was to their advantage, for 
 it is known how Kneller's portraits of ladies are 
 distinguished by their wonderful arms and hands. 
 On the other side, when he was blamed on account 
 of his hasty and careless work, he cried out, '' Bah ! 
 it will not be believed that the picture is mine ; no 
 one will believe that the same man painted this 
 picture and the Chinese at Windsor ! '* To the 
 curiosities of the club belong also the so-called 
 " toasting-glasses," a number of glasses on each 
 
 . . . . " For two ages having snatcli'd from fate 
 Whate'er was beauteous or whate'er was great. " 
 
 Popk's Epitaph on Sir Godfrey Kneller, in 
 Westminster Abbey. 
 
 p 2 
 
204 ENGLAND 
 
 of which was inscribed a verse or toast on one 
 of the reigning beauties of the time. Among 
 these were four daughters of the Duke of Marl- 
 borough, who was fortunate in this respect ; and 
 a niece of Sir Isaac Newton. The custom of 
 drinking toasts was then new, and each glass was 
 named after the lady, in whose honour the first 
 toast from it had been drunk, the Duchess or 
 Countess so and so. The glass " Lady Mary 
 Churchill'' (named after the youngest of Marl- 
 borough's beautiful daughters) had an inscription, 
 on the whole complimentary to the lady, but com- 
 plaining that her eyes take away the liberty which 
 she was sent to bestow : 
 
 " Fairest and latest of the beauteous race ! 
 
 Blest with your parent's wit and her first blooming face, 
 Born with our liberties in William's reign, 
 
 Your eyes alone that liberty restrain." 
 
 The composer of this elegant poem on glass was 
 Lord Halifax; and the secretary of the club was 
 the great publisher of that time, Jacob Tonson, the 
 immortal Bocai (anagram on Jacob) in the satire 
 of Ned Ward, who had more than one ground for 
 being angry with the excellent publisher. This 
 man Bocai was at the best no better than God 
 appears to have always made pubh'shers; even 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 205 
 
 Dryden himself was obliged to write of him a 
 very malicious epigram, with the postscript, " Tell 
 the cur that he who has written these three 
 lines can write more," to make him pay up an 
 agreed honorarium (Dryden, ' Poetical Works : ' 
 description of old Jacob Tonson). Neverthe- 
 less, perhaps Ned Ward is a little too hard in 
 his judgment upon him, when he calls him the 
 '' Chief Merchant to the Muses ;" and asserts of 
 him that he had compelled one of his unlucky 
 authors to give up poetry and to establish a pastry- 
 shop, in which he, Bocai, once a week presided 
 as chairman of the new pudding establishment. 
 Hither he had summoned all his authors; and 
 as he found that pies to poets were as agreeable 
 food as once ambrosia was to the gods, he paid for 
 the fruits of their inspiration with pasties, with 
 the double advantage that his protege, the pastry- 
 cook, took as waste paper what he could not sell 
 in his profession. In this manner Bocai did a 
 better business with his bookselling than his 
 authors with their wit ; and although among 
 noblemen he always looked like a bookseller, 
 he conducted himself, vice versd, when he came 
 among booksellers, like a nobleman. 
 
 More indulgently by far does our Biedermann 
 pronounce upon the Beef-steak Club — this new 
 
206 ENGLAND 
 
 " Rump Parliament," as he calls it — whose mem- 
 bers have the double advantage, in his eyes, of 
 being neither booksellers nor authors. " Like 
 true Britons," says he, " and to show their con- 
 tempt for Kit-Kat pies, they gave a rump-steak 
 the preference, wisely considering that the word 
 beef was of a manly character, and sounded 
 better than * pie ' or Kit-Kat, in the title of an 
 English club ; " and that a gridiron, which has 
 had the honour to be made the badge of a saint's 
 martyrdom, was a nobler symbol of Christian 
 integrity than two or three stars or garters. 
 Although this club, like the former, was founded 
 to bring together a number of friends on stated 
 days to the pleasures of the table, and not with 
 any political object, yet very naturally in this 
 country, where party differences give their im- 
 press even to society, and, as a more recent 
 writer (D'Israeli) remarks, " public life is per- 
 haps the only foundation of true friendship," it 
 took a political, and indeed Tory colouring ; 
 and for a long while the clergy and beef-steak 
 remained the truest supporters of the opposition, 
 while the ruling party, in return, recruited in 
 their highest places from the Kit-Kat. The presi- 
 dent of these beef-eaters^ who, according to Ned 
 Ward, so bravely represented the heart of the 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 207 
 
 nation, wore a golden gridiron on a green silk- 
 ribbon round his neck, and was, in the words of 
 our authority (mark the year, 1709 !) — "as proud 
 ot his new fangle as a German mountebank of a 
 Prince's medal ! " 
 
 The beef-steak and the club are two such national 
 institutions, that alone and united they will never 
 be allowed to die out from English life. There 
 have been at different times, as there are still, 
 different Beef-steak Clubs; but that Beef-steak 
 Club which, under the name of ' the Sublime 
 Society of Beef-steaks,' was the most famous of all, 
 ceased to exist in April 1869, after it had attained 
 the glorious age of 134 years. Founded by a 
 scene-painter, Mr. Lambert, the G-ropius of his 
 time (1735), in the painting-room of a theatre, this 
 sublime company, true to its original foundation, 
 assembled invariably, as long as it continued, on 
 the " boards which signify the world," first in 
 Covent Garden Theatre, then, when this house was 
 burnt down, in the Lyceum Theatre ; where till the 
 last, on every Saturday afternoon, at five o'clock, 
 from November to June, a beef-steak dinner was 
 served behind the scenes in a room which, accord- 
 ing to the description of Mr. Cunningham, " was 
 a little Escurial ; the doors, the panelling, and the 
 ceiling of good old English oak, adorned with the 
 
208 ENGLAND 
 
 bars of the gridiron as thickly as the Chapel of 
 Henry YII. with the portcullis of its founder." 
 The scenery, customs, and signs of a lodge hung 
 round the nightly sittings of the steaks, and what 
 the trowel is to the freemason, such the gridiron 
 was to them. The damask table-cloth, the drinking- 
 glasses_, and the silver service, had woven, cut, and 
 engraved upon them the sign of the gridiron. 
 Through the iron bars of a great gridiron the 
 cook could be seen at his work, and the original 
 gridiron (that emblem which was saved from 
 the fire at two great theatres) had its place of 
 honour on the ceiling. The record book of this 
 club included the first names of the British aris- 
 tocracy. Here Counts and Dukes might be seen 
 helping the cook ; also members of the Cabinet 
 and magistrates of the good City ; and here, in 
 the bloom of his youth and of his rising fame, 
 Brougham might be seen, with bottles packed 
 under his arm, which he brought out of the cellar. 
 The number of steaks was limited to twenty-four, 
 but was exceeded at one time, namely, when the 
 Prince of Wales, afterwards George lY., wished 
 to be received. This memorable occurrence took 
 place in the year 1785, and the ' Annual Ee- 
 gister ' considered it sufficiently important to 
 devote to it the following paragraph : — " On 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 209 
 
 Saturday evening, 14th May, the Prince of Wales 
 was made a member of the Beef-steak Club. As 
 there was no vacancy, it was determined to make 
 him an honorary member ; when the Prince refused 
 this, they agreed to increase the number from 
 twenty-four to twenty-five ; thereupon H.E.H. was 
 unanimously elected." 
 
 Beef-steaks with onions, and port wine, formed 
 the menu, and the first toast was, " Success to the 
 ten acres ;" by which was meant the ten acres of 
 land on which Oovent Garden stood, in the parish 
 of St. Martin. On the 7th of April, 1869, the whole 
 of their splendour came to the hammer ; furniture, 
 service of silver, portraits, and all remaining pro- 
 perty of the ' Sublime Society of Steaks ' went, 
 one after the other ; and the chief feature of the 
 auction, the old gridiron, the palladium of the 
 Society, was knocked down to the great restaurant- 
 keepers. Spiers and Pond, for 61. 15s, 
 
 Corresponding with the numerous peculiarities 
 and eccentricities of the English national character, 
 a crowd of all kinds of wonderful, and to a Conti- 
 nental understanding sometimes quite incompre- 
 hensible societies, accompanies club life from its 
 very commencement. Volumes might be written 
 upon the remarkable ideas which were in this 
 manner incorporated, till they disappeared, perhaps 
 
210 ENGLAND 
 
 to make place for those still more remarkable. 
 Ned Ward, the earliest chronicler of the clubs, 
 has brought together a really beautiful sum of 
 what the Grermans call " blooming nonsense," or 
 " hohern Blodsinns^' to speak in the most modern 
 language. He tells of the club of the Split- 
 farthings, of the False Heroes, of the Mountebanks, 
 of the Bird-fanciers, of the Atheists, of the Beggars, 
 of the Thieves ; he tells of the club of the Nose- 
 less Ones ; and he tells, besides, of one or two 
 other clubs, whose name and description cannot 
 well be told in respectable society. 
 
 There was also a club of nightly disturbers of 
 rest, the so-called Mohawks, a reunion of young 
 people^, belonging, for the most part, to the best 
 position, whose club-pleasures began by their 
 getting drunk, and ended by their rushing into 
 the streets, breaking windows, beating the night- 
 watch, attacking harmless wanderers, and pack- 
 ing old women in casks, to roll them down Snow 
 or Ludgate Hill. This nuisance became at last 
 so great, and the fear of venturing in the streets 
 after dark so general, that a Royal Proclamation 
 was issued on the 18th of March, 1712, which, how- 
 ever, only partially allayed the irregularity; for 
 this noble club did not expire till the end of the 
 reign of George I. Another club, the so-called 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 211 
 
 Hell-fire Club, consisting of the scions of the first 
 nobility of the country, and celebrated by its 
 blasphemies and wild excesses, was suppressed by 
 a decree of the Upper House. The president of 
 this club was the young Duke of Wharton, son of 
 the Minister under Queen Anne, and its spirit is 
 reflected in the following conversation between 
 two old club-companions, Lord Sandwich and 
 the famous Wilkes. When Lord Sandwich — so 
 says Horace Walpole — asked Wilkes whether he 
 thought he should die by the rope or by a certain 
 disease, he replied, " That depends upon whether 
 I adopt your Grace's mistress, or your Grace's 
 principles." 
 
 The " Je ne S9ais quoi " Club (in the * Star 
 and Garter,' Pall Mall) was a little less baneful, 
 although the name of the Duke of Orleans, after- 
 wards Philip Egalite, which is among the mem- 
 bers, appears to show that virtue and propriety 
 were not its device. 
 
 But is ugliness a necessary quality for men of 
 freedom ? It almost seems so. Honore Gabriel 
 Riquetti, Count Mirabeau, upon his visit to Eng- 
 land^ was unanimously chosen an honorary mem- 
 ber of the Club of Ugly Faces, whilst earlier the 
 same distinction had been conferred upon Jack 
 Wilkes, the great revolutionist of England. This 
 
212 ENGLAND 
 
 club owed its origin to an insurpassably ugly man, 
 by name Hatchet, with a nose of such immense 
 extent, that one day a butcher boy cried out that it 
 had knocked his tray of meat from off his shoulder, 
 while Hatchet's head was still, at least, a foot dis- 
 tant from the tray. The natural antithesis to the 
 Ugly Club was the Handsome Club, which con- 
 sisted exclusively of men who had studied at 
 Cambridge, and who, before joining the club, 
 painted dimples upon their cheeks, if they were 
 not blessed with them by nature. This club esta- 
 blished the golden rule, which Brummel, the king 
 of dandies, afterwards adopted, that the necktie 
 made the man ; and one of them spoke the whole 
 truth when he one day stated that to undress at 
 night was a foretaste of heaven, but that, never- 
 theless, a man must suffer to be irresistible. Truly, 
 one walks not under laurels with impunity ! 
 
 The Club of the Unhappy Ones received no mem- 
 bers who had not been already once, at least, made 
 bankrupt, or else had in some way come into col- 
 lision with the law ; and the Lying Club ordained, 
 by one of the paragraphs of its statutes, that the pre- 
 sident should wear a blue cap, with a red feather, 
 and these signs of worth were to be given up with 
 the chair to him who, in the course of the evening, 
 told a greater and more unblushing lie than it had 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 213 
 
 been possible for the president to do. Between nine 
 and eleven o'clock no true word was to be spoken, 
 under severe punishment, unless introduced by 
 the sentence, " With your permission, Sir Harry ;'* 
 for Sir Harry Gulliver, the Miinchhausen of Eng- 
 land, was the patron of this select society. There 
 was also another Club of Kings, the King Club, 
 consisting of uncrowned heads, who had not the 
 dignity but the family name of King; and an 
 Adam Club, consisting of members who shared 
 their surname with the husband of Eve, and on that 
 account also assembled in Adam's Coffee-house, 
 in Paul's Alley. From a contrary point of view 
 to the Club of the First Man, rose the Club of 
 the Last Man, which, from the beginning to the 
 end, was so constituted, that it always consisted 
 of a fixed number of members, which, under no 
 condition, was ever to be increased. A bottle of 
 port wine stood sealed in the room where the club 
 assembled ; and when out of all only one member 
 remained, the last man was to sit in this room, 
 unseal this bottle, and drink to the memory of the 
 dead. Still it is said that this statute was never 
 fulfilled to the letter ; when the number had 
 melted away to two, these two met in the room, 
 emptied the bottle, and declared the club to be 
 closed. C Athengeum,' No. 2001.) 
 
214 ENGLAND 
 
 It would be possible to prolong considerably the 
 list of these eccentric clubs ; but it is now time to 
 approach that man, who has secured for himself 
 the title of the "most clubable man," and who 
 indeed, as he has left behind the traces of his sin- 
 gularity in English literature and in English life 
 generally, has also imprinted them on English 
 clubs. There can be no doubt that we mean Samuel 
 Johnson, the Doctor, as he is still always called by 
 preference. 
 
 The peculiarity of this man consisted in this, that 
 he was far more important in his personality than 
 in his works, and that he worked far more en- 
 duringly through what he said than through what 
 he wrote. Obstinate in his political, narrow in his 
 religious, and quite old-fashioned in his aesthetic 
 views, he still is, and will probably long be, the 
 most popular character of English literature, dealt 
 with by the historians of both parties with equal 
 affection, and standing nearer to the heart than 
 any other English classic. 
 
 No one who does not know England can with- 
 out difficulty form an idea of the charm which the 
 name of this man always exerts over every English- 
 man. From the school which the boy attends, he 
 takes this with him among his earliest impressions 
 to Cambridge or Oxford, where he probably will 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 216 
 
 not fail to visit the room in which Johnson read 
 the classics as a student ; or the coffee-house, where, 
 nearly fifty years later, after the University had 
 made him a Doctor " honoris causa," he delivered 
 his opinion on Macpherson's ' Ossian.' The image 
 of Johnson will accompany the traveller who seeks 
 out the distant Hebrides ; and although the de- 
 struction of old buildings, and the erection of new, 
 has done so much to alter the shores of the 
 Thames and the interior of the City, yet from the 
 old courts which lie on each side of Fleet Street, 
 the figure of the Doctor, as their " genius loci," 
 rises to meet the spirit of him who travels down 
 them. His figure, inclining to corpulence, his 
 clumsy gait, his puffy face, his three-cornered hat, 
 his brown coat, and his cane, are before the eyes of 
 thousands, who perhaps have never seen one of his 
 books, except the ' Dictionary of the English Lan- 
 guage ' and his ' Lives of the English Poets ;' and 
 many who find his tragedy, ^ Irene,' tedious, and 
 his Abyssinian romance, ' Easselas,' unenjoyable, 
 are delighted with the sayings which he brought 
 out at table ; with the beautiful and sublime medi- 
 tations which a morning walk through the park 
 excited in him ; with the information which he 
 gave his fellow-travellers in a post-chaise ; or with 
 the happy remarks which he made in the evening 
 
216 ENGLAND 
 
 in the comfortable rest of a country inn. The 
 smallest circumstances of his life — which was not 
 very exciting, but very rich in examples of virtue, 
 human love, and strength of character — people are 
 never tired of quoting or feeling proud of, thanks 
 to the valuable ' Biography of Johnson,' by Bos- 
 well, that book which is in every English house 
 where are Shakspeare and the Bible. 
 
 When Johnson wrote he was stiff, pedantic, and 
 strove after a grandeur which very often led to 
 a pompous, prolix^ and un-English diction ; when 
 he spoke he was just as simple, short, condensed, 
 natural, and thoroughly English ; he hit the nail 
 on the head. He was no poet, but a philosopher, 
 a teacher of men ; and although the humble posi- 
 tion of his youth and the melancholy of his later 
 years, joined with a very great pride, held him far 
 from those who are usually called " society," he 
 was, nevertheless, a master of society in its higher 
 and highest sense. Never were there words 
 deeper and more full of significance exchanged, or 
 more comprehensive opinions expressed, than in 
 the small circles in which Johnson was reverenced. 
 A treasure of worldly wisdom lies in the con- 
 versations, richly furnished with anecdotes and 
 happily-chosen quotations from the poets, which 
 beautified the modest symposia at which Johnson 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 217 
 
 presided, whether in the house of his bookseller 
 Osborn, or in the villa of his friend Mrs. Thrale, 
 or in his own club. 
 
 Johnson's Club, first the club par excellence^ after- 
 wards called the Literary Club, continues to the 
 present day under the name of Johnson's Club. In 
 its existence of more thanja hundred years it has 
 changed its quarters and its name several times, 
 but its substance, so to speak, has remained the 
 same. When Johnson founded this Club in 1764 
 it included only his nearest friends, together not 
 more than nine, who every [Monday assembled in 
 a tavern for a supper. Here was to be seen, close 
 to the honourable dictator of English language 
 and literature, a young man, in every respect the 
 opposite of this massive person — who was accus- 
 tomed to rule over all — a timid man of thirty years, 
 little powerful in word, overlooked by everybody, 
 and surpassed by many of the company, who were 
 far less important than himself ; for the most part 
 silent, and when he spoke, confused, indistinct, 
 uuimportant, and wanting in striking expression, 
 but full of life and loveliness when he wrote ; a 
 keen observer, a mild critic of the human heart, and 
 approaching to sublime in his picturing of the whole 
 home-charm of English landscape — Oliver Gold- 
 smith, the singer of the ' Deserted Village,' and the 
 
 Q 
 
218 ENGLAND 
 
 author of tlie * Yicar of Wakefield,' of immortal 
 memory. He was deficient in the gift of conver- 
 sation to such a degree that he was often absurd 
 when he spoke. Hence he was, in all good-nature, 
 made the butt for the wit of his friends, and 
 especially of G-arrick. To revenge himself for 
 this, Goldsmith wrote his famous poem, ' The 
 Retaliation,' in which he dedicates epitaphs to his 
 companions, and says of Garrick, hinting at his 
 
 small figure — 
 
 " Describe him who can, 
 An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man." 
 
 " Sir," said Dr. Johnson, "no man was such a 
 fool when he had no pen in his hand." But he 
 loved him very much ; and in the Latin epitaph 
 which he devoted to the monument of his departed 
 friend in Westminster Abbey, says, that there was 
 almost no kind of literature which he did not 
 touch ; and none, which he touched, that he did 
 not adorn (qui nullum fere scribendi genus non 
 tetigit, nullum, quod tetigit, non ornavit) ; and 
 that the love of his companions, the confi- 
 dence of his friends, and the veneration of his 
 readers (sodalium amor, amicorum fides, lectorum 
 veneratio) have honoured his memory by this 
 monument. 
 
 There was also a gentleman with spectacles on 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 219 
 
 his nose, a trumpet to his ear, and a snufF-box 
 in his hand — Sir Joshua Eeynolds, Kneller's suc- 
 cessor, and first President of the Royal Academy 
 of Arts ; who has adorned the walls of the lordly 
 castles and baronial halls of England with all 
 that was or became excellent, noble, and famous, 
 during two generations, for it is well known that 
 of the portraits which he has left behind, those 
 of children are the most remarkable. Another of 
 the nine was Burke, upon whose fiery eloquence 
 perhaps the only restraint imposed was the 
 superiority of Johnson. " I am contented to toll 
 the bell for him," said Burke. There was also 
 here a young man about twenty, of noble and 
 imposing exterior, recently returned from Italy; 
 and always inwardly busied with a thought, 
 a picture; how at Rome, when sitting among 
 the ruins of the Capitol, he had heard barefooted 
 monks sing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter. 
 Three-and-twenty years passed away before, one 
 night in June, between eleven and twelve o'clock, 
 in a summer residence by the Lake of Greneva, he 
 wrote the last line of the last page of the work, 
 whose first idea had been called up before him 
 that evening in Rome. The name of this work, 
 one of the greatest in historical literature, is * The 
 History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman 
 
 n ^ 
 
220 ENGLAND 
 
 Empire ;' and the name of the author, then still 
 young and unrenowned, his coming greatness only 
 foreseen by a small band of select minds, was 
 Edward Gibbon. Admission to this Club was 
 forbidden to many famous men. " To be chosen 
 a member of this Club is no less honour than to 
 be the representative of Westminster or Surrey,'* 
 said one of the bishops of that time, who was 
 fortunate enough to share this honour. It was not 
 easily bestowed on David Garrick, the Director of 
 Drury Lane. Although he was a pupil of Johnson 
 — one, indeed, of the three whom, in the years 
 of his calamity, the poor pedagogue had to teach, 
 the only one who, faithfully sharing this calamity 
 with his master, accompanied him to London and 
 afterwards brought out his ' Irene ' on the stage — 
 yet Johnson was averse to the reception of the 
 modern Eoscius, whose brow was crowned with the 
 laurels of all England, and who, not only a great, 
 but also a rich man, walked upon Persian carpet 
 and dined off silver plates. " Sir," said Johnson, 
 " I love my little David heartily, more than all, or 
 many of his flatterers do ; but surely in such a 
 a society as ours one should not sit elbowed by 
 players, pimps, and mimes." 
 
 At last, however, Johnson yielded to the argu- 
 ment of the rest of his friends, and probably of his 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 221 
 
 own heart. Garrick became a member, and was 
 until his death not the least ornament of a club 
 which, including by degrees all the celebrities of the 
 day, became a power in literary and artistic matters, 
 upon whose verdict depended the fate of a new 
 book or of a new piece. At G-arrick's death, in 
 1779, the club, which then numbered over thirty 
 members, first took the name of the * Literary,' 
 and five years later, Johnson dined for the last 
 time in the cordial friendly union. " He looked 
 ill," Boswell remarks of the day (it was June 22nd, 
 1784), " but he put on a brave appearance, not to 
 disturb the company. He was very pleased with 
 the friendly speeches which all made him, and 
 endeavoured to be as entertaining as his condition 
 allowed." 
 
 On December 13th of the same year he died. 
 Weeping in the doorway stood Frances Burney, 
 the authoress of * Evelina,' whose youthful fame 
 had filled the soul of the old man with an 
 almost fatherly joy ; and his hand grew cold in 
 that of a young friend from the club, the mild, 
 enthusiastic Bennet Lang ton, who, in his eighteenth 
 year, delighted with Johnson's - writings, came to 
 London to become acquainted with him, and since 
 then had not ceased in a modest manner to admire 
 him. Eight days later Johnson found his well- 
 
222 ENGLAND 
 
 earned place in the Abbey, where rest England's 
 great dead, almost the last of a generation of 
 authors who perhaps are more important in the 
 history of the culture of their nation than for that 
 of its literature. 
 
 Among the members of the Literary Club are 
 the great men of England of every province, of 
 literature, of art, of science, of politics, and of 
 the church. It is noteworthy that the great 
 historians belonged to it almost without excep- 
 tion. Among them were two, who in their works 
 have devoted a page of kind remembrance to the 
 club : Lord Macaulay, who was never wanting 
 at its dinners during the Parliamentary season; 
 and Earl Stanhope (Lord Mahon), who was among 
 the guests, when in 1864 the society celebrated 
 its centenary, and the club received the name of 
 Johnson s Club, in honour of its founder. 
 
 Besides this club, which has lasted, there was 
 a number of similar unions, which had their 
 day, and then disappeared. They could scarcely 
 be called clubs in the new and complete sense, 
 for they only depended on occasional meetings; 
 still the desire for social union was in this way 
 satisfied. For the predominant inclinations of 
 that time — we mean the last part of the past 
 century — were drinking and playing. The noble 
 
FBOM A OEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 223 
 
 heads of society faithfully divided their leisure 
 between these two passions, if they could not 
 be united, and their regular places of assembly 
 were ostensibly dedicated to the latter. The first 
 real clubs were playing-clubs. Some of these 
 proceeded from the old coifee-houses, after the 
 Augustan age was over, when " that little circle 
 of listeners," of which the ' Spectator ' has spoken, 
 grouped itself round the chair of a prominent 
 politician or critic. After the taste for this 
 '* elegant " entertainment had generally given way 
 to another more substantial taste, the room was 
 altered. From that time the[]dice-box rattled and 
 gold pieces rolled ; and instead of the door, as 
 formerly, standing open to any one who paid for 
 his admission, now only members had entrance. 
 Such changes the ' Cocoa Tree ' underwent, a 
 Tory coffee-house in the time of Queen Anne, and 
 in the time of the Pretender, 1740, a Jacobite 
 coffee-house; a play-club in 1780, where in later 
 years Lord Byron might be seen. Thus, only 
 still earlier, White's Chocolate-house became a 
 play-club, and, only much later, in our own cen- 
 tury, a regular club, which still, in remembrance 
 of its former purpose, carries the arms designed 
 for it by Horace Walpole, a dice-box with, the 
 device, " Cogit amor nummi," and in which to 
 
224 ENGLAND 
 
 the present day a book is kept open for the entry 
 of bets. 
 
 Betting and hazard attained their summit in 
 that unnaturally excited period which reached 
 fever-heat in East Indian speculation, owing to 
 riches of returning Nabobs, witnessed the general 
 outbreak at the occurrence of the French Revo- 
 lution, and at last, in the subsequent war, 
 found the steel and iron cure, of which the world 
 was so much in need. One hundred guineas 
 were betted at White's as to whether a certain 
 member of the club, who was a widower, would 
 take a second wife sooner than another member, 
 who was likewise a widower. Heavy sums were 
 depending upon whether a certain minister would 
 be in office at a certain time ; and whether a 
 young lady of rank who was just married, would 
 have a child sooner than the Countess N. N., 
 who had already been married four or five months. 
 A man fell down before the door of White's, and 
 was carried into the house. Large bets were 
 immediately made as to whether he was dead 
 or not ; and when some one suggested bleeding 
 him, those who had betted on his being dead pro- 
 tested against such a proceeding, because it would 
 lessen their chances. '' One of the young folks 
 at White's," writes Walpole, *' has committed one 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 225 
 
 murder, and has an intention of proceeding with 
 another. He bet 1500/. that a man could live 
 twelve hours under water ; hired some desperate 
 fellow, sank him in a boat, and neither man nor 
 boat have appeared again. He is now preparing 
 another man and another boat for the same 
 experiment." 
 
 Lord Mountford betted that Nash, who was 
 eighty-three years of age, would outlive Gibber, 
 who was eighty-four. The lord would have won 
 his bet, for Gibber died (1757) four years earlier 
 than Nash (1761). But both outlived the lord. 
 He had lost stupendous sums at White's, and had 
 set his last hope on a place under Grovernment. 
 When this hope failed, he invited his friends to a 
 dinner at White's. It was New Year's Eve, and 
 they played afterwards till far into New Year's 
 morning. They drank " a Happy New Year," and 
 the lord went home. Thence he sent for an advo- 
 cate and three witnesses, made his will, asked the 
 lawyers whether the will would stand good if the 
 testator shot himself; and after this question had 
 been answered in the affirmative, said, *' Please 
 wait a moment, while I go into the other room," 
 went into the other room, and shot himself. In 
 the ' Gocoa Tree' 180,000/. sterling were won and 
 lost in a single night. Two brothers, the sons 
 
226 ENGLAND 
 
 of Lord Foley, had played away so mucli here, that 
 they had to pay 18,000/. sterL'ng yearly as interest 
 on their debt. Admiral Harvey, afterwards so 
 famous as one of the heroes of Trafalgar, in his 
 youth, when a midshipman, lost his whole pro- 
 perty — worth 100,000/. — at one stake to an Irish 
 gambler by profession^ by name 'Byrne, and won 
 it again when he hazarded on a second throw an 
 estate just inherited from his brother. The evil 
 gi'ew, whilst, as always in cases of moral corrup- 
 tion, it spread quickly from higher circles down- 
 wards. E. 0. tables (" Even and Odds," a kind 
 of roulette) stood in almost every ale-house ; at a 
 Parliamentary discussion (1782) it was said by 
 a Member, that in the two parishes of West- 
 minster alone there were 296 of these, and another 
 Member added, that in the whole of London there 
 were no fewer than 500. Servants and appren- 
 tices were led astray by number-cards which were 
 thrown into the kitchens and cellars; and, even 
 on Sundays, gambling-halls of the lowest kind 
 were open all over London. 
 
 Some of the fashionable gambling clubs have 
 continued till the beginning of our century, among 
 them the universally known Almack's, in which 
 Pitt and Wilberforce played at hazard ; for neither 
 high Toryism nor humanity shielded from the 
 
FROM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 227 
 
 general passion, nor did the opposition make any 
 difference in that. Among the most frequent 
 guests at Almack's might be counted Pitt's genial 
 opponent, Fox. In the debate on the 6th Febru- 
 ary, 1772, upon the "Thirty-nine Articles," he 
 had made a rather heavy speech, and Walpole said 
 that this was not to be wondered at under the 
 circumstances. He had played at hazard at 
 Almack's from Tuesday evening the 4th till five 
 o'clock on the 5th ; an hour earlier he had won 
 back 12,000/. which he had lost, and by dinner- 
 time, at five, he stopped with a loss of 11,000/. 
 On Tuesday he spoke in the above-mentioned 
 debate ; went to dine at half-past twelve o'clock at 
 night; from thence to White's, where he drank 
 till seven on the following morning; thence to 
 Almack's, where he won 6000/. ; and between 
 three and four in the afternoon went to New- 
 market, a famous place for horse-racing for wagers. 
 His brother Stephen lost, two evenings later, 
 11,000/., and Charles another 10,000/. on the 
 13th ; so that in three nights the three brothers, 
 of whom the eldest was not twenty-five, had lost 
 32,000/. 
 
 Lord Eobert Spencer and General Fitzpatrick 
 held a faro bank at Brookes's, which in a short 
 time brought in 100,000/. sterling to the former, 
 
'228 ENGLAND 
 
 whereupon he retired from business. The great 
 banker, George Harley Drummond, did the same, 
 when in one night he played aw^ay his property 
 to Beau Brummel. One of the most famous 
 gaming clubs, Watier's, was closed in 1819 ; when 
 the ornament of this and of all other clubs, Beau 
 Brummel, having a long time wandered in exile, 
 and been a trouble to the Consulate of Caen, at 
 last had made the vain attempt to win back the 
 favour of his Royal friend, ^' the first gentle- 
 man," by a packet of snuff, the famous Prince 
 Regent mixture. Although sums to the amount 
 of 30,000/. or 40,000/. sterling were occasionally 
 lost here in " Quitte or Double," Watier's was still 
 the great house for whist. " The same pack was 
 never used twice. At the end of a game the 
 cards were cast on the floor, so that, at the conclu- 
 sion of the entertainment with dawn, the players 
 sat, to use the Beau's own words, ' knee-deep in 
 cards.' " * 
 
 It is very clear that men of a contemplative 
 quality of mind, and with an inclination towards 
 the quieter enjoyments of life, must have experi- 
 enced a deficiency in social intercourse. The older 
 
 * ' Personal Reminiscences of Beau Brummel,' in * Cham- 
 bers's Journal,' April 21, 186G. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 229 
 
 D'Israeli says of the year 1790 (* Curiosities of 
 Literature ') that the company at the coffee-houses 
 has always, as long as he can remember, been on 
 the decrease, that at that time there were as good 
 as no proper clubs, especially were there no literary 
 clubs, and those that were political were very 
 narrow and exclusive. The friends of literature, 
 the younger D'Israeli adds, in the biography of 
 his father, had therefore taken to meeting in the 
 booksellers' shops : the Whigs at Debrett's, the 
 Tories at Hatchard's. 
 
 One of the few clubs which, developed from the 
 old coffee-houses, did not devote itself exclusively 
 to dice-boxes and card-tables, was * Tom's,' an old 
 neighbour of ^ Will's ' and ' Button's,' in Russell 
 Street. Here, without doubt, at the end of the 
 century, some of the most distinguished people of 
 every branch of public life met some of the most 
 clever ; still this club also was closed in 1814, and 
 the house in which first the coffee-house and then 
 the club had flourished for nearly a century, was 
 shortly after pulled down. For in the meanwhile 
 another spirit had awakened, a new fashion had 
 come up, the West End had arisen in all its glory ; 
 and the erection of those palaces had been begun, 
 in which the modern club united the pleasantness 
 and profit of a refined and influential society with 
 
230 ENGLAND 
 
 that solid luxury and highest comfort which corre- 
 spond with the richest city in the richest country 
 in the world, and which at the present day form 
 the true and justifiable pride of London life. 
 
 The club has become such a deeply-rooted and 
 national institution of thoroughly British spirit 
 and character, that it cannot be considered merely 
 as a factor of society in general, but also of all 
 those interests which unite or divide men, and it 
 may well be said, it has influenced the whole 
 civilised life of England of the present day more 
 than any other arrangement of a social nature. 
 The numerous clubs of London and England form 
 so many centres through which politics, science, 
 and literature, these definite forces in the cultiva- 
 tion of a people, continue to exist in lasting con- 
 nection with each other, and with different circles 
 of society, and which, while they favour the group- 
 ing according to interests of position and calling, 
 at the same time protect them from isolation. It 
 is the principle of the Corporations of the Middle 
 Ages improved and employed in the spirit of the 
 present time, the genuine German essence of 
 fellowship under its most modern aspect. Cir- 
 cumstances have occurred which have been espe- 
 cially favourable to the development of club-life in 
 London. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 231 
 
 As the English Sunday, in conjunction with the 
 regular uniformity and quietness of the English 
 evenings, has conduced to much more reading in 
 England than among ourselves, so also a certain 
 peculiar one-sidedness of English life has en- 
 couraged the club as its complement. The London 
 man of business is in reality confined to the City 
 by day, and to his house in the evening. Those 
 manifold shades, which lend so great a charm to 
 German , and to Continental life generally, are 
 wanting in English, and especially in London life. 
 They have there but an imperfect idea of those 
 numerous pleasures " out of doors " which are 
 known in our great towns. Going to the theatre, 
 as such, has long ceased to be fashionable in 
 London; the season for operas and concerts is 
 short. Not as among ourselves do the Foyers 
 offer to their habitues a place of meeting every 
 evening. On account of these we have not 
 hitherto had the need for clubs; but at present, 
 however, we are beginning to feel, as in Berlin, 
 for example, that some of the necessary conditions 
 of its existence have arisen; a strong national 
 feeling, a united national interest, a large and 
 rich capi1,al, and an earnest Parliamentary meeting. 
 Also on other grounds, literary and artistic, the 
 current is becoming stronger which draws com- 
 
232 ENGLAND 
 
 munity of interests to a fellowship, whicli more 
 or less approaches the nature of a club. But in 
 spite of our having the name, and making the 
 substance of the arrangements similar, it may well 
 be doubted whether the German Berlin Club will 
 ever attain to the general importance of the 
 English London Club, because the sphere of ours 
 can only be a narrower one. 
 
 In England, where hitherto there had been no 
 third stage besides business and the family, home 
 and publicity, the club came in as a mediating 
 element. It stands between the two, and embraces 
 somewhat of each ; it combines the ease of social 
 intercourse, as it reigned in the coffee-houses of old 
 London, with the more solid enjoyments of the 
 good time of taverns. It supplies the place of the 
 Continental inn, the Restaurant, the Boulevard, 
 the Foyer, and the Conditorei ; it is to the Lon- 
 doner all this, and even something more. The 
 association of interests, of position, and calling, was 
 the first, and the association of material interests 
 followed. To be a member of a club, means that 
 a man has the right to regard one of the hand- 
 somest buildings in one of the best parts of the 
 town as his house, and servants in plush breeches 
 as his servants ; to read the newspaper in a saloon 
 with gilded ceiling and thick carpet, and the 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 233 
 
 Magazine or Eeview in a library, with carved 
 oak book-cases ; to dine off silver and Wedgwood 
 in a room, through the half-open window of which 
 the summer wind blows in from the Park ; to smoke 
 after dinner his Cavendish or Ha vanna, drink punch, 
 and sleep, if he likes, in a comfortable smoking- 
 room, in whose antique fireplace in winter a good 
 fire burns. It means that he may go from his 
 house into a circle of society he has selected for 
 himself, to enjoy all those comforts and enjoyments 
 which can only be found in the houses of the rich 
 and refined ; and all this at a price, the moderation 
 of which might almost excite more astonishment 
 than that which is raised by what is given in return, 
 through its detailed completeness. It was, if I re- 
 member aright, the Duke of Wellington who was 
 one day charged fifteenpence, instead of a shilling, 
 for a dinner at his club. The Duke declined to 
 pay the arbitrary overcharge, and did not rest till 
 it was struck off. "It is not on account of the 
 threepence," he said, *' but on account of the disci- 
 pline of the club." This is preserved with the 
 utmost rigour. Nothing is more regular, nothing 
 more orderly, than the inner life of the club. No 
 loud word is heard, all goes on in an exemplary 
 manner. Every servant has his post, everything 
 its place, and a noiseless, quiet, gentlemanly tone, 
 
 R 
 
234 ENGLAND 
 
 free, however, from constraint, prevails every- 
 where. Club-Hfe has quite changed the manners 
 of English society, compared with the condition 
 of things which prevailed forty or fifty years ago. 
 Then, and indeed almost as long as the "first 
 gentleman " gave the tone, was the time of wild 
 carousals. " As drunk as a lord," was a proverbial 
 saying, which, far from casting a shadow on the 
 character of one of the "upper ten thousand," 
 made him appear rather as one of their particularly 
 manly and virtuous representatives. When they 
 assembled, it was to become drunk ; and when they 
 broke up, many a noble lord and many an 
 honourable Member of Parliament might be seen 
 staggering uncertainly across the street, compas- 
 sionately led by the arm by a good companion, 
 not to speak of anything worse. To-day a drunken 
 man in a club would only excite contempt. Those 
 refined enjoyments have again come to be valued 
 which have given something truly urbane to Eng- 
 lish life, English manners, and English literature, 
 without taking from them a happy, excessively 
 attractive feature of reality. 
 
 But the alteration which the clubs brought about 
 in the constitution of British society is scarcely 
 greater than that which they introduced in the 
 architecture of the streets of London. Formerly, 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 235 
 
 and even until the time when the clubs led the 
 way with a new example, the specific English 
 style, monotonous, gloomy, and dull outside, how- 
 ever much comfort there might be inside, was 
 the only kind to be seen in London. The clubs 
 were about the first to imitate the Continental 
 pattern, and to adorn the neighbourhood of Pall 
 Mall, St. James's, and Westminster with build- 
 ings, whose classical models stood in Venice and 
 Florence. What a number of splendid frontages ! 
 What stately facades, executed in beautiful red or 
 grey marble, in the noblest spirit of architecture 1 
 Polished columns support the magnificently carved 
 friezes ; a sunbeam from Corinth or Athens in the 
 midst of the fog of London, and a vision of the 
 Parthenon, above the thousand-wheeled traffic ol' 
 the modern metropolis. 
 
 Although in general effect still unsurpassed, 
 the broad, large, and imposing quadrant which 
 Regent Street describes, has long ceased to be the 
 architectural wonder of London. Everywhere the 
 narrow and dark streets are giving way, and 
 new handsome buildings, in the Tudor and Re- 
 naissance style, are springing up in their place : 
 Parliamentary and Government buildings, in the 
 style of Westminster Abbey, Gothic churches, 
 handsome schools, asylums, benevolent institu- 
 
 R 2 
 
236 ENGLAND 
 
 tions, banks, and hotels. London is changing 
 slowly, but more and more, year by year, from a 
 brick and mortar town to a town of stone and 
 marble. 
 
 The noble and characteristic treatment of club- 
 buildings, which gave the impulse to this great 
 change, vies in all its parts with the luxurious and 
 comfortable arrangement of the interior. No won- 
 der that with the temptations club-life offers there 
 is scarcely a Londoner of any pretension who is 
 not a member of a club. Not altogether with 
 injustice modern satirists have seen in club-life a 
 new hindrance to marriage, and have said that the 
 club is an institution for the " encouragement of 
 bachelordom/' an abode of earthly bliss, in which 
 women alone will not believe. Fortunately, how- 
 ever, domestic comfort is not the sole object for 
 which man marries; for certainly comfort, such as 
 the club offers, cannot be offered to the richest man 
 by his own house. There he may also have ser- 
 vants in plush breeches, but he has the trouble of 
 ruling them and the expense of paying them ; here 
 he is master, without any burden or responsibility. 
 He can come when he will, and go when he will. 
 His staying away causes no confusion. The small 
 troubles of domestic life do not await him here. 
 He is always met with the same politeness. When, 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 237 
 
 after a tiring day's work, he leaves his dark office 
 in the City, or his musty court in the Temple, for 
 his club, he is at once in a world where all breathes 
 rest and comfort ; cool and shady in summer, bril- 
 liantly lighted and thoroughly warmed in winter. 
 Here he is always sure of finding some of his friends, 
 recreation, and an excellent dinner. Small tables, 
 with snow-white linen, covered with sparkling 
 crystal and polished silver and steel, stand ready 
 everywhere for the guests. On a mahogany desk, 
 in the middle, lies the " carte du jour " and little 
 forms near by, for the members to fill up according 
 to their taste : notes in the margin announce how 
 many minutes the preparation of each dish requires. 
 One knows exactly how long a time he has at 
 disposal, and the interval can be employed in 
 going to the dressing-room, where everything that 
 can rejoice the heart of man is ready : scented 
 Windsor soap, as much water as he likes, clean 
 linen and Turkish towels in abundance, and those 
 deep, handsome basins, in which it is a delight to 
 bathe one's face and hands. " Another and a better 
 man," you now descend to the reading-room, look 
 over one of the evening papers, which are every- 
 where fixed up on high stands, seek out a friend 
 with whom to share dinner, arrange with another for 
 a cigar or rubber in the evening, and betake yourself 
 
238 ENGLAND 
 
 to the dining-room, after the little page, in blue 
 jacket with silver buttons, has announced, " The 
 soup is on the table, Sir." For three shillings and 
 sixpence you can have a dinner, as well served and 
 as luxurious as in the household of a Duke : soup, 
 fish, roast meat, bread, cheese, and beer, ad libitum, 
 or a bottle of red wine. Burgundy or Bordeaux. 
 Such entertainment and service, with a dress-coat 
 and white cravat behind each chair, can only be 
 attained through the excellent economy of the clubs. 
 Certainly the entrance-money amounts only to 
 between 20Z. and 30/. sterling, and the yearly 
 subscription from 5Z. to 10/. sterling ; but with the 
 number of members up to 1200, a club, with an 
 income of from 5000/. to 15,000/. sterling, can keep 
 a good cook, a good cellar, and a staff of good ser- 
 vants. At the head of the club stands a Committee 
 of management, elected according to statute; there 
 are also a secretary, a librarian, a manager, a 
 steward, a door-keeper, a butler, an under-butler, a 
 chamberlain, a clerk of the kitchen, a head-cook as 
 chef de cuisine, several under-cooks, kitchen-maids, 
 house-maids, waiters, pages, and attendants. This 
 is indeed the household of a prince, and who knows 
 whether many a prince in Germany is half as well 
 served as the member of a club in London. Here 
 the invaluable advantages of co-operation or of con- 
 
' FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 239 
 
 federation appear in two aspects: in the first place, 
 every member of a club, for the expense of a few- 
 pounds yeai'ly, has comforts which the greatest 
 riches would scarcely be able to obtain for him 
 elsewhere in such completeness ; and in the second 
 place, forty or fifty persons suffice to satisfy the 
 needs of 1000 or 1200 members, each of whom 
 would need ^yq or six persons, if he wished to 
 have in his own house all that he has in the club. 
 
 To belong to one of the great London clubs 
 passes for a sign of respectability, and in many 
 cases does even the service of a recommendation : 
 hence no member omits to note his club upon his 
 visiting card after his residence, and sometimes 
 (especially by unmarried gentlemen, who perhaps 
 do not live in particular elegance) this is the only 
 address given. The club is all in all to its member : 
 there he can receive his visits and his letters ; he 
 has at his disposal a drawing-room or reception- 
 room, a writing-room, a writing-table, note-paper 
 and envelopes with the club stamp, a card-room, a 
 billiard-room, a bath-room, and in some of the 
 political, especially the Tory Clubs, even a sleeping- 
 room for the convenience of the country gentlemen, 
 who, at the times of elections, are frequently sum- 
 moned from their country seats to London. 
 
 Of the two Tory Clubs, one, the Conservative, 
 
240 ENGLAND 
 
 in St. James's Street, stands on old Tory ground, 
 where the shadow of Swift still indicates the place 
 of the old ' Thatched House ' Tavern — in which he, 
 at one time after his change in politics, dined, con- 
 ferred, and conspired with the Tory magnates — an 
 imposing building, with Corinthian columns and 
 pilasters on the upper story, in the ornamental 
 frieze of which appear the crown and the oak-leaf, 
 with Roman-Doric columns in the lower story, 
 from which projects the massive portico. An 
 immense bay-window to the morning-room unites 
 as in a picture the architectural beauties of Pall 
 Mall, St. James's Street, and Old Palace Grate. 
 Here, set in a modern frame, is a piece of history 
 for every Englishman. On this spot of earth, 
 which his glance overlooks, the destinies of 
 England, for good and for bad, during the last 
 200 years have been acted out. The era of the 
 Stuarts and the era of the Georges have here left 
 their traces. Here stood, or still stand, the houses 
 in which lived their polished men, orators and 
 authors, and their celebrated women ; and here 
 are the streets in which they walked. 
 
 A dignified stillness, a dreamy pensiveness, 
 rests on the club-land of London ; all around the 
 flowers and lawns give their perfume, the lakes in 
 the Parks glitter, the tre^s in the squares rustle 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 241 
 
 and whisper; and the venerable pile of Westminster 
 Abbey amidst a mass of green, and the new tower 
 of the Houses of Parliament, whose bright gilded 
 point rises high above all the towers in London, 
 bound the horizon. 
 
 The Carlton Club is recognised as the head- 
 quarters and centre of the Conservative party in 
 England. In the political world Carlton and Tory 
 are two words of about the same meaning. Of all 
 the club-houses which adorn Pall Mall this is, 
 without doubt, the handsomest, on account of 
 its delightful fulness of form, its marble balus- 
 trades, polished columns of red granite, and ex- 
 pensively executed decorations, a work which 
 strikes one as picturesque in a high degree — a 
 copy of Sansovino's Library of St. Mark, trans- 
 ferred from the neighbourhood of the Piazza and 
 blue Lagunas of Yenice to the moist sky of 
 London — an image of opulence, which is capable 
 of anything. The great landed estates of Eng- 
 land, the unexampled riches of its princely 
 domains, and the influences, grown extensive 
 together with their estates, of its widely-rami- 
 fying families, look out upon the passers-by out of 
 the deep windows, and the Doric and Ionic columns 
 of this palace. The inside does not fall short of 
 the outside. The rooms, among which is the 
 
242 ENGLAND 
 
 coffee-room, 92 feet long, 37 feet broad, and 21 feet 
 6 inches high, show the most refined splendour. 
 Here assemble Members of both Houses, men, 
 almost without exception, of the highest social 
 position — the little kings, who have divided the 
 territory of England amongst themselves, and have 
 left nothing for others but moving estates, steam, 
 paper, ships, and the sea; the born representa- 
 tives of the Conservative interests, from that old- 
 fashioned country gentleman, whose ancestors, a 
 hundred years ago, drank their red wine to the 
 King " over the water," and called the now reign- 
 ing dynasty " a pack of Hanoverian rats," to that 
 most modern shade of party, whose politics have a 
 colouring of feudal romance in D'Israeli's ' Young 
 England.' The Conservative is younger (1840) 
 than the Carlton Club (1832), and, in a manner, 
 an offshoot from it for those Tories who could not 
 obtain admission to the other. It numbers 1200 
 members.* The founder of the Carlton Club is 
 "the iron Duke" of Wellington, and the number 
 of its members, with the exception of Peers and 
 M.P.'s (Members of Parhament), amounts at present 
 to 950. Although these, as has been said, belong 
 
 * These and the following statements of numbers are 
 a<xjording to * Whitaker'« Almanack ' fur 1871. 
 
FIWM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 243 
 
 to the richest class in England, the entrance-money 
 to the club amounts only to 20/. sterling, the yearly 
 subscription only to 10/. IO5. sterling — the former 
 being no more, and the latter less, in fact, than in the 
 majority of other clubs, whose supporters are not 
 possessors of the estates of this world. But it only 
 needs the opportunity to show of how much these 
 '* gentlemen of England " are capable. When the 
 overthrow of a Whig Ministry is concerned, it may 
 be observed that the driving-wheels of this political 
 laboratory are of gold. When it becomes important 
 to obtain new votes or to secure old ones, and when 
 at an election whole villages and market-places 
 must be taken to the poll in handsome carriages 
 and whole counties must be made drunk, then in 
 this club, in one evening, between forty and fifty 
 thousand pounds sterling are put down ; and in one 
 of the last crises, which threatened the reigning 
 Government, there must have been at its disposal 
 a sum not less than half a million. 
 
 A real Whig will never have much to praise in 
 a real Tory, and it is obvious that his club-house 
 will please him but little. " The Carlton is a 
 showy building," says the Whig, " with its 
 pompously-coloured pillars and overloaded orna- 
 mentation, like a man with rings on all his fingers, 
 thick gold chain, and heavy seal, or worse still. 
 
244 ' ENGLAND 
 
 like an over-dressed woman ; its height does not 
 accord with its length, nor its splendour with its 
 proportions, and altogether it does not accord with 
 the climate of London, in which its red granite will 
 pretty soon be spoiled by the weather." This last 
 assertion has, indeed, not been confirmed, for the 
 brightness of the columns has not in the least 
 diminished since 1832 ; it is, however, quite 
 true that the Reform Club, the head club of the 
 Whigs, built in a very grave style, appears almost 
 without ornament next to its showy neighbour. 
 Founded in the vear 1834, it counts 1400 members. 
 The two clubs stand side by side in Pall Mall, only 
 divided by a narrow way which leads to Carlton 
 Gardens, and present scarcely a greater contrast 
 in their politics than in their architecture. The 
 club-house of the Whigs gives the impression of 
 thorough simplicity, of complete harmony, and a 
 certain subdued grandeur : it looks like a Roman 
 republican close to a luxurious Venetian noble ; and 
 it has in its exterior nothing which excites the 
 mind, nothing for the fancy, but only something 
 strong, which rather reminds us of the duties of life 
 than of its enjoyment. The style of this building 
 is the pure Italian of the sixteenth century, in 
 which, as Kugler says, that more poetical inspi- 
 ration, that more lively fancy of the fifteenth 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 245 
 
 century, appears lessened ; and, in fact, the model 
 of the Farnese Palace in Rome, begun by San- 
 gallo and completed by Michael Angelo, was in 
 the mind of the London architect, Barry, who 
 borrowed from it his deep-set windows, with 
 columns at the side. 
 
 There is no question that of the two clubs of the 
 great political parties that of the Whigs is the 
 truer to the English national character, which, 
 from its development, but little loves ostentation. 
 By contrast with the simplicity of this club-house 
 as seen from the street, he who enters is the more 
 delighted with the truly princely luxury which 
 reigns within. A large hall, of the whole height 
 of the building, receives him, and an ascent of a 
 few steps leads him to the saloon, which is sur- 
 rounded by an artistically-designed colonnade, the 
 rich Scagliola marble pillars of w^hich rest on bases 
 of dark red porphyry. The colonnade supports a 
 gallery, from which Corinthian columns gracefully 
 rise, and above all is arched a glimmering dome of 
 glass. The walls are of coloured marble, in which, 
 behind the colonnade, are introduced life-sized 
 portraits of the most celebrated Reformers, and 
 over the gallery are fresco paintings, representing 
 Poetry, Music, Painting, and Sculpture. The floor- 
 ing is of mosaic, and the whole presents an aspect 
 
246 ENGLAND 
 
 of almost overpowering splendour. As in an Italian 
 palace, a staircase leads from the hall to the upper 
 gallery, upon which the various apartments of the 
 building open — the dining-rooms, the card and 
 billiard-rooms, the reception-rooms, &c. Perhaps 
 the most attractive of all is the library, an imposing 
 room, a whole story high, full of quietness, comfort, 
 and books. Beautiful pillars support the arches 
 of the roof, rich hangings conceal the doors, thick 
 carpets cover the floor, rows of valuable books 
 adorn the walls, soft seats invite to reflection, and 
 through a great window maybe seen and breathed 
 in all its freshness a glimpse of the green and the 
 smell of the mignonette from Carlton Gardens. 
 Such a room and such a library might well excite 
 the quiet envy of a man who loves books. Perhaps 
 there is no more beautiful room for study in the 
 world. A wonderfully pleasant air which fills the 
 breast with comfort, and a mixture of light and 
 shadow beneficial to the eyes and to the spirit, are 
 here always. The dark grey of the marble walls, 
 thrown up by a narrow but sufiicient decoration of 
 gold ornament, appears suited to that repose of the 
 mind which is so necessary to him who would 
 meditate ; and the scarlet of the damask curtains, 
 morocco seats, and leathern bordering of the book- 
 cases, brings into the temperature of the room just 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 247 
 
 a breath of that warm tone which communicates 
 itself imperceptibly to the temperature of the soul. 
 A collection of 10,000 volumes is contained in the 
 cases, handsomely bound, carefully chosen and 
 arranged in order, according to the system of 
 Panizzi, the great reformer of the British Museum ; 
 and besides the part which includes polite literature 
 and travels, this must be the most comprehensive 
 political library in the whole kingdom. 
 
 But the true wonder of the Reform Club is its 
 kitchen. For even a man of liberal principles can 
 love the pleasures of the table, as it is known that 
 shortly before the decease of Lord Palmerston (old 
 Pam), a member of the diplomacy had said to his 
 Austrian colleague, in compensation for all which 
 he had censured iu" the old Whig, " Mais on dine 
 fort bien chez lui." Now, the Reform Club was 
 fortunate enough to secure the service of such an 
 artist as Soyer, of immortal fame in the annals of 
 gastrosophy. 
 
 Several of his most successful discoveries have 
 had their origin in the dinners which this club has 
 given to eminent guests ; for it was on such occa- 
 sions the ambition of this extraordinary man to 
 adorn the table not only with good, but also with 
 new and even sometimes witty dishes, and among 
 his greatest successes were the ' ' vol au vent a la 
 
248 ENGLAND 
 
 Clontarf," in honour of O'Oonnell, and the *' ice 
 a ribrahim Pacha," in honour of the Pacha of 
 Egypt, 1846. The atelier in which this master 
 worked — in other words, the kitchen of the Re- 
 form Club — would be one of the things best worth 
 seeing in London, only people do not succeed 
 in seeing it. Still there was one lady, the Vis- 
 countess of Mallville, so favoured as to enter this 
 sanctuarium, the secrets of which are described by 
 her in the following manner, in the ' Courrier de 
 TEurope' : — 
 
 "The kitchen is spacious as a ball-room, and 
 white as a young bride. All-powerful steam, 
 the noise of which salutes your ear as you enter, 
 here performs a variety of ofiSces : it diffuses an 
 uniform heat to large rows of dishes, warms the 
 metal plates upon which are disposed the dishes 
 that have been called for ; it turns the spits, draws 
 the water, carries up the coal, and moves the 
 plate below, like an intelligent and indefatigable 
 servant. Stay awhile before this octagonal appa- 
 ratus which occupies the centre of the place. 
 Around you the water boils and the stewpans 
 bubble, and a little farther on is a movable fur- 
 nace, before which pieces of meat are converted 
 into savoury rStis ; here are sauces and gravies, 
 stews, broths, soups, &c. In the distance are 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 249 
 
 dutch-ovens, marble mortars, lighted stoves, iced 
 plates of metal for fish, and various compart- 
 ments for vegetables, fruits, roots, and spices. 
 After this inadequate though prodigious nomen- 
 clature, the reader may perhaps picture to himself 
 a state of general confusion. If so, he is mistaken, 
 for in fact you see very little or scarcely anything 
 of all the objects above described. The order of 
 their arrangement is so perfect, their distribution 
 as a whole and in their relative bearing to one 
 another so intelligently considered, that you re- 
 quire the aid of a guide to direct you in exploring 
 them, and a good deal of time to classify in your 
 mind all your discoveries." 
 
 The remaining clubs of Pall Mall and of the 
 neighbouring Squares, whose speciality is for the 
 most part indicated by their names, are : the Army 
 and Navy Club, with 2250 members; the Garden 
 Club, founded in 1813, with 357 ; the United Ser- 
 vice, founded in 1815, with 1550 ; the Oxford 
 and Cambridge Club, founded in 1830, with 1170 ; 
 the Union Club, composed of merchants, lawyers, 
 members of Parliament, and gentlemen in gene- 
 ral, in Trafalgar Square, founded in 1822, with 
 1000; the Travellers' Club, founded in 1819, with 
 725 members, among whose number, according 
 to rule, no one can be accepted *'who has not 
 
250 ENGLAND 
 
 travelled out of the British Isles a distance of 
 at least 500 (English) miles, in a direct line from 
 London." 
 
 The club of literature and art is the Athenaeum, 
 founded in the year 1824 by a number of nota- 
 bilities, among whom were Walter Scott and 
 Thomas Moore. The present club-house, built in 
 1829, and opened in 1830, in the Grecian style, 
 and with a frieze supported by pillars, upon 
 which appear in beautiful imitation the Athenian 
 youths and splendid horses of the Pan-Athenaic 
 procession from the roof of the Parthenon, is one 
 of the most noteworthy buildings in Pall Mall, 
 and partly covers the memorable ground where, 
 until the year 1826, stood Carlton House, the 
 Palace of the Prince Regent. Wisdom and virtue, 
 the fame of the author, painter, and sculptor won 
 in honourable work, and preserved immaculately, 
 here followed upon the heels of those errors of the 
 heart, that life without seriousness or sacredness, 
 that indifference to public opinion, which will 
 always be avenged when the name of George IV. 
 is uttered. A colossal figure of Minerva over the 
 Eoman-Doric entrance-door has taken the office 
 of the watchman, which formerly, in the days of 
 blood of the Regency, was held by " Big Ben," 
 the colossal door-keeper of the Prince ; and where 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 251 
 
 formerly the companion of his feasts met, there in 
 the high hall, under the columns of Lysicrates, 
 better men have assembled and with better objects. 
 Chaste statues adorn the room, and an excellent 
 library, adapted to the especial character of the club, 
 is also here. The club numbers 1200 members; 
 and it is certainly not too much to say that all 
 celebrities of the present time are included in this 
 number, and that nowhere else as here have spiri- 
 tual and temporal peers, bishops, noblemen, and 
 those belonging to every position, patrons of litera- 
 ture and art, mingled with their real representa- 
 tives in free intercourse. The Athenasum was 
 for a long while the central point of the circle of 
 authors in London. Here it was always customary 
 formerly to introduce foreigners of distinction ; and 
 to obtain admission became more and more an 
 aim of ambition to Englishmen. Perhaps too much 
 so for its original tendencies ; for, if we may believe 
 the paper, which we may well call the paper of this 
 club, because it originated in its midst, and among 
 the English critical journals occupies the rank 
 which is held in English society by the literary 
 club, the name and picture of which it bears — ^we 
 mean the * Athen^um ' — it has in later times some- 
 what lessened its significance, through the prepon- 
 derance of that foreign element. " A prominent 
 
 s 2 
 
252 ENGLAND 
 
 ecclesiastic," says that Journal, " wliose name had 
 been on the list of candidates for two or three 
 years, asked the Secretary when he might hope 
 for a chance of election. The answer was, * What 
 a pity you are not a bishop ! the thing would be 
 done at once.' " 
 
 With extraordinary boldness the * Athenaeum' 
 maintains the opinion that, even among bishops 
 of the Church and judges of the high Courts of 
 England, there are some very tedious, unenjoyable, 
 and unclubable people ; and that these, united 
 with the rich merchant-element of London, have 
 contributed, for the greatest part^ to change the 
 nature of a club, which had been originally founded 
 for members of learned positions, artists, authors, 
 and men of congenial dispositions ; and which, 
 although the brotherhood of intellect is still suf- 
 ficiently numerously represented, and the cream of 
 the Athenaeum still exists, has, nevertheless, ceased 
 to be what it' was at first. 
 
 This may have been the reason for which, in 
 the year 1864, a new Athenaeum Club, the * Junior 
 Athenaeum/ was founded, which was so fortunate 
 as to find a shelter in the splendid house of the 
 Amsterdam millionaire, Van der Hope, in Picca- 
 dilly, and which at the present time numbers 
 600 members. Altogether it appears as though 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 263 
 
 each greater club must have its " Junior ; " for 
 instance, there is the ' Junior United Service/ since 
 1827, with 2000 members ; the 'Junior Carlton,' 
 opposite its venerable ancestor, since 1864, also 
 with 2000 ; and the * Junior Garrick Club,' since 
 1867, though with only 350 members. 
 
 Before this ' Junior/ however, the old and ori- 
 ginal Garrick Club— from 1831, with 650 mem* 
 bers — still maintains precedence. This club, first 
 formed for the members and friends of the art 
 in which the man whose name it has received 
 shone so highly, but afterwards a favourite rendez- 
 vous for authors and artists in general, has kept 
 sacred the old ground, upon which in the time of 
 " little David " rank, wealth, society, and fashion 
 moved — the neighbourhood of Covent Garden. 
 
 In this club, till a few years ago, might be seen 
 daily a man with grey hair, although his figure 
 was still powerful, and his countenance showed no 
 marks beyond those of matured judgment, refined 
 mind, and benevolence. Daily from the bright en- 
 virons of the West End he came here to tread this 
 spot of earth, which he loved and knew as did 
 no other in London, and to call up his prototypes 
 from the greatest English humourists, he, the 
 greatest of England's new humourists — Thackeray. 
 He had to perform a pilgrimage through a great 
 
254 ENGLAND 
 
 length of time from those small and smoky rooms, 
 '' where the best company usually gathered together 
 after the theatre, to play piquet and to amuse 
 themselves, where one saw blue and green ribbon 
 with stars, and not merely English newspapers 
 with foreign news, but also moral treatises," as 
 Defoe says. Far was the way from those taverns 
 where the president of the time was expected to 
 bring his own wine^ if we may believe Swift, to 
 the high halls and dining-rooms glittering with 
 silver, of the different clubs to which the author of 
 ^Vanity Fair' belonged. Of all these clubs the 
 Garrick was his favourite place of sojourn. Here, 
 surrounded by the last remembrances of Queen 
 Anne and the four Georges, was his world. " The 
 two great national theatres on one side, a church- 
 yard full of mouldy but undying celebrities on 
 the other ; a fringe of houses studded in every part 
 with anecdote and history ; an arcade often more 
 gloomy and deserted than a cathedral aisle ; a rich 
 cluster of brown, old taverns — one of them filled 
 with the counterfeit presentments of many actors 
 long since silent, who scowl or smile once more 
 from the canvas upon the grandsons of their dead 
 admirers ; a something in the air which breathes of 
 old books, old pictures, old painters^ and old authors ; 
 a place beyond all other places one would choose in 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 365 
 
 which to hear the chimes at midnight, a crystal 
 palace — the representative of the present — which 
 peeps in timidly from a corner upon many things 
 of the past ; a withered bank that has been sucked 
 dry by a felonious clerk, a squat building with a 
 hundred columns, and chapel-looking fronts, which 
 always stands knee-deep in baskets, flowers, and 
 scattered vegetables ; a common centre into which 
 Nature showers her choicest gifts, and where the 
 kindly fruits of the earth often nearly choke the 
 narrow thoroughfares; a population that never 
 seems to sleep, and that does all in its power to pre- 
 vent others sleeping ; a place where the very latest 
 suppers and the earliest breakfasts jostle each other 
 on the footways" — such is Covent Garden, with 
 some of its surrounding features, as Thackeray 
 often saw it, and for the last time on 22nd Decem- 
 ber, 1863. 
 
 That brown tavern, " filled with the counterfeit 
 presentments of many actors long since silent;'* 
 among them the portrait of Perdita Eobinson, 
 who played so sweet and sad a role in the ro- 
 mance of the Prince of Wales, — the old building 
 of the G-arrick Club is no more, and a new one 
 stands a few hundred steps farther westward. A 
 few months after Thackeray went for ever to the 
 companions of his fame and of his immortality, 
 
256 ENGLAND FROM GERMAN VIEW 
 
 the old house was destroyed, pulled down, and 
 cleared away, " and the place thereof will know it 
 no more." 
 
 But among the great shadows which the his- 
 torian, the novelist, and the lover of the past 
 meets with there, is now also that of Thackeray. 
 
THE JEWS IN ENGLAND. 
 
I. 
 
 The history of the emancipation of the Jews is 
 pre-eminently, and in an universal sense the his- 
 tory of the triumphant progressive development of 
 modern thought and freedom. With the word 
 which burst open the gates of the streets of the 
 Jews, was loosened the last fetter of the Middle 
 Ages which yet oppressed that thought ; and it fell 
 to the ground in the same moment in which those 
 freed from the Ghettos began to mix, as citizens 
 and comrades, with their former persecutors. 
 
 The relation of the Christian to the Jew in 
 another than a religious point of view is of value 
 as the barometer of political civilisation. The 
 setting free of the one goes hand in hand with 
 the setting free of the other — from prejudices ! 
 
 " Prejudices are the kings of the multitude," 
 says Yoltaire. The same man, so haughty and bold 
 towards kings wearing a crown, bows before that 
 of the populace, whilst he, in his ' Literature of the 
 History of Philosophy,' declares : " The Jews are 
 but an ignorant and barbarous people, which for 
 a long time has joined the foulest greed to the most 
 
260 ENGLAND 
 
 frightful superstition, and most unconquerable hate 
 against all who endure and enrich them. But," he 
 adds, '' II ne faut pourtant pas les hrulerr 
 
 Especially excellent and noble appears this sen- 
 timent in the mind of the great philosopher who 
 had illumined his age, given the lie to religion and 
 prejudice, but unfortunately never pardoned this 
 one circumstance in the Jews, that they, in money 
 transactions, had once or twice outwitted him ; as 
 did Abraham Hirsch, in Berlin, who had received 
 a bad bill of exchange from Voltaire for good 
 stones, and to whom subsequently Yoltaire had to 
 pay both stones and bills to extricate himself from 
 his embarrassing situation. "11 ne faut pourtant 
 pas les hrulerr How tolerant of Monsieur Yol- 
 taire, after such experience ! and how just was 
 Lessing when, in his famous epigram, he says 
 Yoltaire was the greater rogue ! 
 
 Like almost all questions of State, Germany has 
 decided this more by means of preparatory mental 
 labour in the quiet chambers of its philosophers 
 and poets than on the constitutionally conducted 
 Parliamentary battle-field, to which, indeed, two 
 things were wanting, namely. Constitution and 
 Parliament. When these came the thing was ripe, 
 for Lessing's ' Nathan der Weise ' was worth as 
 much for the Jews in Germany as an entire victo- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 261 
 
 rious Parliamentary campaign. Conformably to 
 German habit the case was carried through, bear- 
 ing weight internally, and its marks first became 
 externally evident when the enlightened spirit of 
 the age pronounced its verdict. In one word, the 
 question in Germany has been one of civilisation — 
 in England one of politics. The phases of this 
 movement mark themselves more sharply in Eng- 
 land, because here, very early indeed in a bygone 
 century, raised from the province of mere philan- 
 thropic and philosophic speculation and debate, 
 it was made a subject of constitutional inquiry, 
 which we see run through all the stages to a final 
 triumph. 
 
 The story of the emancipation of the Jews in 
 England, therefore, offers to the observation a clear 
 distinct prospect, in which we may perceive more 
 than in any other land the beginning, the middle, 
 and the end. 
 
262 ENGLAND 
 
 11. 
 
 For a long period the Jews in England have 
 found themselves possessed of full civil and poli- 
 tical rights. Seven Jews sit in Parliament, and 
 twice, in the course of a few years, have Jews 
 been invested with the highest of municipal 
 honours — the Lord Mayoralty of London. But it 
 was not so with them always. 
 
 Barbarities, such as in our own age we have seen 
 practised towards them in the less civilised lands 
 of the East, did the Jews once endure in England. 
 It appears that already, in the eighth century, 
 they were settled there. William the Conqueror 
 carried over a larger number of them out of Nor- 
 mandy ; under him and his successor, and the first 
 Kings of the House of Plantagenet, they flourished 
 in the new land. There, as almost at that time 
 everywhere, they were the guardians of knowledge, 
 the doctors and physicians, the honoured friends 
 of Kings, dilectus et familiaris noster. They had 
 their own protected quarter in London, and one 
 of the most famous colleges of Oxford was their 
 property. On the day when Richard the Lion- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 263 
 
 hearted ascended the throne in 1189, the leaf was 
 turned. When, after his coronation, a deputation 
 from the whole body of the Jews of England did 
 homage to him, and desired to bring rich and gra- 
 cious gifts, they were turned away upon the instance 
 of the Archbishop of Canterbury. None should 
 receive presents from Jews, neither should Jews 
 tread the court of the Castle. The roughness of the 
 common people, who had never loved them, was 
 thus sanctioned and unfettered by a holy mouth. 
 Unwillingly had they seen the small community 
 increase and grow — progressing towards wealth 
 and power. They had become their debtors in 
 money, and found it inconvenient to repay them ; 
 therefore they laid upon them taxes which they 
 could not afford^ and accused them as usurers when 
 they took high interest, in order to meet the 
 requirements. 
 
 "We can form a fair representation of this for 
 ourselves when we reflect on what has happened 
 under our own eyes in Roumania. That which an 
 English paper Q Saturday Review,' March 1872) 
 has said of it suits well enough, if we carry back 
 its date, England in the thirteenth century. 
 " There must have been something especially 
 sweet for the barbarous mind, first to take the 
 money of a man, and when he demanded it back, 
 
264 ENGLAND 
 
 to buffet, strike, and half kill him, on high reli- 
 gious grounds." It is the old story, which has 
 been repeated unhappily too often, and everywhere 
 where there have been Jews. 
 
 The mischievous fire spread itself from the Court 
 of the King at Westminster over the whole of 
 England. The Monarchy was the accomplice of 
 the Prelacy, and the people a blind tool in their 
 hands, for the greed of the one and for the fanatical 
 zeal of the other. The old fearful tale of the blood 
 of Christ, which the Jews were supposed to use on 
 the night of Easter, was again brought forward ; 
 those to whom, in the five Books of Moses, the use 
 even of the blood of brutes was forbidden — those 
 to whom barbarity was a horror, and murder a 
 nonentity. The persecutions of the Jews began. 
 Hunted and massacred with inhuman insensibility 
 by their foes and adversaries, who in those times 
 were usually their debtors and hoped to become 
 their inheritors, on one occasion, when no other 
 hope of safety or honour remained, a multitude of 
 them, to the number of 500 men, women, and chil- 
 dren, buried themselves, with their Eabbin at their 
 head, on that notorious night of fire and murder at 
 York, beneath the smoking ruins of the Castle — a 
 deed of heroism well worthy of the spirit of the 
 Maccabees. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 265 
 
 From that time, through nearly a hundred years, 
 the Jews in England were fated to buy their exist- 
 ence day by day with gold ; and at last, when the 
 cup of fury was filled, did the angry God of Israel 
 pour it out upon those who had gone astray of 
 his people, even to the coasts of the sea. 
 
 Under Edward I., in 1290, the Jews were ban- 
 ished from England. A cause has been assigned 
 for this cruel measure, which drove thousands upon 
 thousands away from their own endeared soil — 
 from their modest homesteads and the graves of 
 their dead — that the Jews had been guilty of false 
 coining. Recent inquiries have, however, brought 
 to light a different result.* The Jews would not 
 have been given up for such a trifling price. On 
 the contrary, great endeavours were made to draw 
 them over to Christianity. The last of those 
 endeavours was pregnant with fatality for them. 
 A Dominican monk, by name Robert de Redding, 
 a skilful orator and able Hebraist, was intrusted 
 with the office, but instead of converting them to 
 Christianity, he was himself converted to Judaism. 
 The Dominican monks, horrified at the disgrace 
 which they believed inflicted on their Order, 
 
 * Gratz, ' Geschichte der Juden,' and Adler, ' Jews in Eng- 
 land.' Longmans. London, 1870. 
 
 T 
 
266 ENGLAND 
 
 besieged the Queen -Mother Eleanor, and she, 
 through her son Edward I., carried into execution 
 the decree of banishment. Hume, who when he 
 wrote his ' History of England ' could not have 
 known the particular ground of the banishment of 
 the Jews from England, yet, from a just instinct of 
 the truth, lays no especial stress on the " Imputation 
 of false coining," but turns the whole guilt upon the 
 King, whom a perverted feature of hero-worship 
 in the present day has undertaken to extol as the 
 greatest of the Plantagenets. Hume calls things 
 by their right names when he says that " Edward, 
 influenced by his zealotism and his avarice, was 
 resolved to purge the kingdom from the hated race, 
 and to take their property as the reward of his 
 deed." The heart shudders to read how 16,000 
 poor Jews quitted the Island kingdom — how the 
 boatmen, even on the Thames, maltreated them — 
 how the inhabitants of the five ports took from 
 them, as travelling money, that which the rapa- 
 city of the King had yet left to them — how 
 thereon the shipowners refused to admit them on 
 board, and how by hundreds they perished in 
 sight of the open sea : " A crime," says Hume, 
 *' for which severe punishment was destined to the 
 King, who had resolved to be the sole plunderer 
 in his possessions. So were the Jews robbed of 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 267 
 
 their fortunes and cast out of the kingdom. But," 
 continues he, " since it is impossible for a king- 
 dom to exist without money-lenders, and no one 
 will lend money without compensation^ so was 
 usury, as it was then called, from that time pro- 
 tected even by the English." 
 
 So ends the first stage of the History of the Jews 
 in England. 
 
 But only a few traces are left of their first 
 residence here. In the old town of Bury St. Ed- 
 mund's in Suffolk, well known from its remains 
 of old Roman buildings, the noble wall of a stone 
 synagogue is preserved, which in the present day 
 has been converted into a police-station, but by 
 the people is still called " Moses' Hall," and the 
 " Jews' Synagogue." In the same way, the Jews' 
 quarter, in which at that time they dwelt in the 
 City of London, and had their places of worship, 
 is called even to the present time Old Jewry. 
 
 For almost four hundred years — from 1290 to 
 about 1650 — there were no Jews seen in England ; 
 and only now and then do they appear in English 
 poetry, in what guise we may well imagine. 
 
 Always when Jews are brought on the stage is 
 painted their fierce hate towards Christians, their 
 thirst for Christian blood is the gloomy theme of 
 the song. In the earliest English ballads, which 
 
 T 2 
 
268 ENGLAND 
 
 are preserved in Percy's ' Eeliques,' is one entitled 
 *The Jew's Daughter,' belonging to the second 
 half of the thirteenth century. The Jews, before 
 they left England, must have heard the "Mord 
 und Nachtklang" — music recalling night and mur- 
 der — of this popular song, which Herder, who has 
 translated it in his ' Stimmen der Yolker,' calls a 
 terrible tale, the tradition of which once cost very 
 many Jews their land and life. It rests upon a 
 narrative of the monkish historian, Matthew Paris 
 (•)*1259)^ according to which, in the year 1256, a 
 Christian child in Lincoln was crucified by them. 
 The boy Hugo is running about playing at ball, 
 when the Jew's daughter entices him towards her 
 with an apple : — 
 
 " And scho has taine out a little pen knife, ; 
 
 And low down by her gair (dress), . 
 
 Sclio has twined the zong thing and his life 
 
 A word he nevir spak mair." 
 
 Laughing, she rolls him into a leaden coffin, and 
 
 throws him into a well fifty fathoms deep. The 
 
 grief of the mother when she misses her son is 
 
 touchingly painted : — 
 
 " Quhan bells wer mng, and mass was sung, 
 And every lady went hame : 
 Than ilka lady had her zong sonne, 
 Bot Lady Helen had nane." 
 
 At last, when she comes to the well, and cries for 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 269 
 
 her ** bonny Sir Hew," her *' pretty Sir Hew," she 
 hears a voice answer out of the depth : — 
 
 " Gae hame, gae hame, my mither deir, 
 Fetch me my winding sheet." 
 
 Evidently from this tradition was inspired, about 
 a hundred years later, when for a long time not a 
 Jew had been found in England, the tale of 
 the ' Prioress,' in Chaucer's ' Canterbury Tales,' 
 only that here miracle is introduced, which lends 
 the bloody deed a legendary background. This 
 very glimmer of piety which surrounded the 
 legends hostile to the Jews was all the more cal- 
 culated to stir up the fanatical hatred towards 
 these poor persecuted ones. The boy in the ballad 
 is merely playing at ball ; but Chaucer introduces 
 him, though so young, as a paragon of piety, who, 
 as he goes through the Jewish town to school, 
 sings his song aloud, * Alma Mater Redemptoris* 
 The Jews resolve thereon to murder him, and he 
 becomes a sacrifice for his faith. They bury him 
 in a heap of manure ; there his mother finds him. 
 There, with throat almost cut in half, he still sings 
 his song, ' Alma Redemptoris Mater J The pro- 
 vost naturally has the Jews led to the most dis- 
 graceful death amidst the pain of torture : — 
 
 " Therefore with wilde hors he did hem drawe, 
 And after that he heng hem by the lawe." 
 
270 ENGLAND 
 
 The boy, on the other hand — the young martyr — 
 is by the abbot and monks solemnly laid to lasting 
 rest in a marble tomb ; and, that in the register of 
 the sins of the Jews nought may be omitted, the 
 poet, in conclusion, recapitulates that other history 
 of murder which, for almost a century and a half, 
 had lived in the remembrance and in the mouth of 
 the people : — 
 
 ** yonge Hew of Lincoln, slain also 
 With cursed Jewes, as is notable 
 For it nis but a litel while ago." 
 
 From this, however barbarous yet extremely naive 
 representation, we see the Jews presently brought 
 by the first dramatists into a somewhat higher 
 sphere. Here, at least, is a man who has an aim. 
 Although barbarity is still his principal quality, 
 yet is it a means for him by which to gain some- 
 thing else. He is no longer the vampire sucking 
 Christian blood solely for his own enjoyment. Two 
 motives actuate him — Avarice and Eevenge. And 
 these, if indeed bad and blamable, are, at all 
 events, the characteristics of a human being. 
 
 In the famous tragedy of the ' Eich Jew of 
 Malta,' by Christopher Marlowe (1563-93), one of 
 Shakspeare's predecessors, we find these chaotically 
 combined, but amidst the wild mass of monstrosities 
 which we are accustomed to find in Marlowe, they 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 271 
 
 are yet always recognisable. His * rich Jew ' 
 poisons the wells (also one of the darling occupations 
 of the Jews of the Middle Ages), cuts the throat of 
 the sick during sleep^ sets fire to the monasteries, 
 blows the whole of the fortress of Malta into the 
 air, and, with unslaked lime, prepares a grave for 
 the Governor, into which he is himself finally pre- 
 cipitated, there miserably to be reduced to ashes. 
 Corpses must have been lying about on the stage by 
 dozens, the result of the rage of Barabbas, Marlowe's 
 Jew ; and there is, indeed, no kind of death which 
 he has not employed in order to obtain his victims. 
 
 But there is here an intelKgible, human founda- 
 tion for these outbursts of rage, even though there 
 was no need of illustrating it by such a wholesale 
 massacre. Because he will not become a Christian, 
 his property and wealth are taken away, his house 
 is changed into a nunnery, and at last he loses also 
 his daughter Abigail, dear to him as Iphigenia 
 to Agamemnon. She is converted — after her 
 two Christian lovers have murdered one another 
 through the artifice of her father — to Christianity, 
 and becomes a nun.* 
 
 It is evident that we have nearly the same two 
 motives here, viz., love of gold and love of his 
 
 Bodenstedt, ' Shakspeare's Zeitgenossen,' iii. 319, &c. 
 
272 ENGLAND 
 
 daughter, that Shakspeare has adopted in his 
 Shy lock. But how entirely different is Shak- 
 speare's from Marlowe's Jew. It is not to be 
 understood that Shakspeare loved the Jews any 
 more than his dramatic predecessor ; but he was 
 the greater poet. He felt that an object of moral 
 detestation, not softened by any addition, be it 
 ever so slight, of sympathy, as here, of compas- 
 sion, could never be a subject for the stage. It 
 is therefore on aesthetical, as well as on the 
 highest moral grounds, that, at the very begin- 
 ning, he lays so much stress upon making us 
 understand the Jew Shylock as a 7na7i, in order 
 afterwards to make us clearly see his inhumanity/. 
 " If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us, 
 do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? 
 and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? The 
 villany you teach me I will execute." Thoroughly 
 to appreciate what Shakspeare has done for his 
 Jew, we must compare the two sources from which 
 he has taken his story — the novel of Gianetto and 
 Anselmo, from the * Pecorone ' of Giovanni Fioren- 
 tino,* and the ballad * Gernutus, the Jew of Venice, 
 from Percy's ' Reliques.' 
 
 * Given by Delius in English, in the Introduction to ' The 
 Merchant of Venice.' 
 
FBOM A QEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 273 
 
 The novel as well as the ballad give, feature for 
 feature, the minutest details upon which Shak- 
 speare, whilst he enriches them with the wealth of 
 his poetical power, has constructed this portion of 
 his wonderful drama. The friendship of Antonio 
 and Bassanio ; Portia's saving interposition ; even 
 the fond fooling with the ring is to be found in the 
 novel, whilst the ballad (to be sung according to 
 the tune ' Black and Yellow ') contains the very pic- 
 ture of the scene of judgment, especially Shylock's 
 behaviour towards his debtors. But that which is 
 wanting in both the one and the other is the Jew's 
 daughter Jessica. She is the poet's own work. 
 Through this character a fresh significance is given 
 to all that has gone before, so far as concerns the 
 Jew. We see in him first, and before all, not the 
 Jew, not the usurer, not the dog-like, cruel man, 
 but the father, the deeply-moved father ; the father 
 injured in his most holy feelings, who is robbed of 
 his daughter — the only thing besides his gold that 
 he loved — and robbed, indeed, by the object most 
 hateful to him — a Christian. 
 
 " I have a daughter ; 
 Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
 Had been her husband, rather than a Christian." 
 
 So greatj indeed, is the strength of his affection 
 lor his daughter, that while a ray of it falls on that 
 
274 ENGLAND 
 
 other low love of gold, even this appears less hateful 
 in our eyes, insomuch that where both stand for- 
 ward together, we are induced to excuse the one 
 with the other, and deepest compassion, which even 
 outlives the horror of the scene of judgment, seizes 
 us when we see that he has lost both, — his daughter 
 and his gold. The one is of no value for him 
 without the other. " The curse never fell -upon 
 our nation till now," he cries, when he hears of 
 his Jessica's seduction ; " I never felt it till now. 
 I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and 
 the jewels in her ear ! Would she were hearsed 
 at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin ! " 
 
 Far from finding in these words^ as Kreyssig, 
 an example of denial in the usurer of the great 
 national virtue of his race, the strong, devoted 
 family feeling — that feeling here speaks to us in 
 its wildest accents of despair. The fearful desola- 
 tion of death yawns about him on all sides, with 
 but the one point of light attaching him to life — 
 the desire of revenge. This, however, becomes 
 the tragic cause of depriving him of the last thing 
 he can call his own — his fortune. Now bursts the 
 piercing cry from his lips, " Nay, take my life and 
 all, pardon not that." And now can it be well 
 understood that he does not belie the recognised 
 and very admirable national virtue of his race. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 275 
 
 either since, or although he is a Jew^ but that this 
 very virtue reconciles his character to that humanity 
 without which it had not been possible for a Shy- 
 lock to have existed in the mind of Shakspeare. 
 His cruelty disappears before the greater and less 
 excusable cruelty of his judge. We hear only the 
 complaint of his injured heart trampled in the dust. 
 " When," says Heine, " I saw this piece in Drury 
 Lane, there stood behind me in the box a fair, pale 
 Briton, who, at the end of the fourth act, cried 
 bitterly, and exclaimed several times, * The poor 
 man is wronged ! ' Her face was of the most noble 
 Greek type, and her eyes large and black. I have 
 never been able to forget them — those big black 
 eyes which wept for Shy lock." 
 
 We do not^ however, venture to believe that 
 the effect on Shakspeare' s contemporaries could 
 be similar to that on Heine's " pale Briton " of 
 the nineteenth century. We might, indeed, doubt 
 whether Shakspeare himself had it in view. His 
 interest for the Jew may, so we ourselves imagine, 
 have had a purely pathological origin, but it 
 became more when he busied himself about him. 
 For it was impossible for Shakspeare to place 
 himself in the Jew's position (as, indeed, only 
 Shakspeare can place himself in another's posi- 
 tion) without acknowledging with keen feeling 
 
276 ENGLAND 
 
 the utter injustice done to him, without, in accord- 
 ance with the instinctive greatness of his spirit, 
 taking part against the oppressor, and with the 
 oppressed. Unintentionally the Jew rises out of 
 his original baseness to the really great and mas- 
 terly figure of the piece, whilst all others, Portia 
 excepted, shrink into insignificance before him. It 
 is true that Shakspeare invests his Hebrew with 
 all the traditional horrors of the Middle Ages, and 
 not to offend the illusive imaginings of the period, 
 he is made to pant for Christian blood. But he 
 has a bitter eloquence, before which no argument 
 of his adversaries may hold ground, a fulness of 
 keenest wit which pierces to the heart, not Chris- 
 tianity, but its believers in this play. Who may 
 speak of Christian humility or Christian gene- 
 rosity, scrutinising the character of that fine, noble 
 man ? But for the last consequence the despised, 
 the slandered Jew — as he is the real hero of the 
 drama — ^had also withdrawn from it in triumph. 
 Regard, however, for the public opinion of his time, 
 to which he had made several concessions, it may 
 be, forbade the poet drawing this consequence. It 
 would have been little according to its taste, and 
 certainly not have found its approval, had the 
 Jew, after he had lost his cause, retained any high 
 and moral spirit. Much more popular and intel- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 277 
 
 ligible was the moral of the ballad of * Gernutus 
 the Jew,' which concludes with warning all Chris- 
 tian folk in common to beware of the wretches 
 who, with cunning longing, desire our spoil, and 
 to trap our innocence when they may — 
 
 " From whom the Lord deliver me, 
 And every Christian too, 
 And send to them like sentence eke, 
 That meaneth so to do." 
 
 In accordance with this, Shakspeare overwhelms 
 the utterly broken-hearted Hebrew with scorn, in 
 which, as we may suppose, the groundlings of 
 the Blackfriars and Globe Theatres strongly par- 
 ticipated, and leaves him at the last the choice 
 between the half of his fortune and his faith . What 
 Shakspeare himself thought of the making of pro- 
 selytes he has put into the mouth of the jester of his 
 piece, Launcelot Gobbo : " This making of Chris- 
 tians will raise the price of hogs ; if we grow all 
 pork-eaters^ we shall not shortly have a rasher on 
 the coals for money." But the public at the be- 
 ginning of the seventeenth century might well 
 think otherwise, and Shy lock becomes a Christian. 
 So doing, by one stroke he forfeits, as a Jew, all 
 those sympathies which formerly were his, as a 
 human being; when the oppressed so deeply 
 humiliates himself as to confess the faith of his 
 
278 ENGLAND 
 
 oppressor, he overturns all his premises, and sinks 
 back into a baseness greater than that from which 
 he at first arose. This was no longer the true Jew 
 — who at that very time in Spain and Portugal, 
 with the praise of his Grod on his lips, mounted, 
 rather than deny Him, the funeral piles of the 
 Inquisition, or only escaped them by wandering in 
 foreign lands a friendless exile. 
 
 Such a Jew who loved his God — the Grod of his 
 fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob — more than 
 his ducats, more indeed than his daughter, Shak- 
 speare knew not, or if he knew him, yet dared not 
 show him to his contemporaries. But not fifty 
 years later such a Jew England saw. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 279 
 
 III. 
 
 This Jew was Menasseh ben Israel,* a divine of 
 Amsterdam. 
 
 England had gone through the frightful struggle 
 of the Civil Wars. Charles I. had fallen on the 
 scaffold, and Oliver Cromwell stood on the summit 
 of his short, but, for all the future decisive career, 
 which by one sharp stroke separated the Middle 
 Ages from modern time. He, almost the first, 
 proclaimed those two words whose echo was 
 never more completely to die away, Thought- 
 freedom and Toleration. His war against the 
 dark powers of spiritual slavery and violence 
 done to conscience— against the Papacy and its 
 worldly ally — may have forced him to hard mea- 
 sures ; but since we have lived to see something 
 similar in our own time, and have learned to know 
 afresh as our enemies those who w^ere his also, we 
 shall not be able any longer to reproach him for 
 his hardness. His great heart appealed for the 
 holy things of humanity, and his strong hand for 
 those who had hitherto suffered on their account. 
 
 * Kayserling, ' Menasseh ben Israel.' Berlin. 1861. 
 
280 ENGLAND 
 
 His idea of a kingdom was that of a kingdom of 
 God, in which there could be no persecutor ; but 
 the persecuted found in him at all times that which 
 was expressed in the only title which he would 
 accept — the Protector. 
 
 The fame of this powerful man, whose appear- 
 ance must have had in it for his Bible-governed 
 contemporaries something Messianic, spread itself 
 across the seas to the Jews, who for now nearly 
 400 years had been barred the coasts of England^ 
 and one of them^ Rabbi Menasseh ben Israel, formed 
 a bold resolution to urge Cromwell for permission 
 to return. Born in Portugal, and belonging to a 
 family which, persecuted by the Inquisition, had 
 forsaken its native land, Menasseh had come, when 
 quite a child, to Amsterdam ; and here, after he had 
 finished his studies, he became a Rabbi and teacher 
 of the Talmud in the Jewish institution. Spinoza 
 was among his pupils. The mounting star of Crom- 
 well aroused Menasseh's observation, and when he 
 believed the time to have arrived he stepped for- 
 ward with his plan, the execution of which was espe- 
 cially favoured through the acknowledged and far- 
 spread affection for the Old Testament in the then 
 ruling circles of the Independents. After many 
 steps of a preliminary and private nature, Menasseh 
 ben Israel at length, in the year 1650, acted openly. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 281 
 
 by engaging himself in a petition to Parliament 
 on the subject of the Jews. 
 
 Thus we see the question from this precise 
 moment raised to the political ground, which 
 henceforth, and until its complete solution in our 
 own century, it has ever maintained. It was in 
 the year 1653 that, on the occasion of a fresh 
 petition from Menasseh, for the first time, amid 
 lively debates in the English Parliament, it came 
 into discussion, and in the following year an invi- 
 tation, in diplomatic form, was sent to the Eabbi 
 of Amsterdam, who meanwhile had personally 
 appealed to the Lord Protector, in consequence of 
 which he travelled to London, and there appeared 
 as ** Ambassador of the Jewish nation." He was 
 treated with the greatest distinction, and was re- 
 ceived by Cromwell at Whitehall in solemn audi- 
 ence. He presented his petition, which embodied 
 the wishes of the Jews, and bore the title, '' To 
 His Highness the Lord Protector of the Common- 
 wealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, the 
 humble address of Menasseh ben Israel, a divine 
 and doctor of physic, in the name of the Jewish 
 nation." * Cromwell received the address graciously, 
 
 * In the year 1868 a reprint of this Address, of which a 
 copy lies before us, was published in Melbourne. 
 
 U 
 
282 ENGLAND 
 
 and sought with vigour to advance the cause therein 
 propounded. 
 
 But there was not wanting a very heavy oppo- 
 sition, especially on the side of the Presbyterian 
 clergy, which Cromwell had every reason to spare 
 as much as possible ; and also on that of the mer- 
 cantile community, who saw, in the return of the 
 Jews to England, an injury to their own interests. 
 These sought to refer the unselfish and full-hearted 
 benevolence which Cromwell exhibited towards the 
 Jews to the impure motive of a monetary specula- 
 tion, as though he would have drawn him elf out 
 of financial embarrassments by means of their 
 wealth. So says Abraham Cowley, a contemporary 
 Royalist writer in his * Discourse on Cromwell's 
 Government,' after he has spoken of the burden of 
 the debts of the Protectorate : — " The other plan 
 to raise a suitable sum which he unhappily fol- 
 lowed, but could not carry out, was the recalling 
 of the Jews into London. To this end, it is said, 
 he intended to sell them St. Paul's as their syna- 
 gogue, supposing their piety and purses to be 
 strong enough to buy it. Had he done this to 
 reward the nation who set the first noble example 
 of crucifying their King, he might claim the merit 
 of gratitude, but his prevailing principle was the 
 love of their Mammon." 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 283 
 
 This hateful report, which was at that time set 
 in circulation as a means of agitation against the 
 friendly efforts of Cromwell for the Jews, and since 
 then has been repeated innumerable times as a 
 charge against his character, has nothing in- 
 credible in it, if it be considered that the Cathe- 
 dral Church of London was then used as a stable,* 
 and that during the naval wars with the Nether- 
 lands manifold Bills were brought into Parliament 
 for empowering the Government openly to sell by 
 auction some of the Cathedrals.f 
 
 Cromwell, however, had as little to do with these 
 matters as the Jews, and Menasseh ben Israel 
 refuted this directly in his * Vindication of the 
 Jews' {Vindicice Judceorum), where he expressly 
 says there was a common report that the Jews had 
 bought St. Paul's for a synagogue. Many other 
 like fables were promulgated, which never for 
 a moment entered into the Jewish imagination. J 
 
 * Carlyle, * Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches.* 
 Tauchnitz ed. ii. 136. "Paul's Cathedral, we remark, is 
 now a Horseguard ; horses stamp in the Canons' stalls there." 
 
 f Guizot, * Histoire de la Kevolution d'Angleterre,' iii. 295. 
 " Des hills furent aussi proposes pour la vente des forets 
 royales, et meme de quelques cathedrales, qu'on se proposait 
 de demolir." 
 
 J Deutsch von Moses Mendelssohn, in his ' Gesammelten 
 Werken,' iii. 218. Leipzig, 1843. 
 
 u 2 
 
284 ENGLAND 
 
 On the contrary, the proposal was made by Har- 
 rington — whom we have learned to know in a 
 former chapter as the founder of the first political 
 club, the Rota Club — with all seriousness, in his 
 ' Oceana,' that the kingdom of Ireland should be 
 sold to the Jews, and England in this manner 
 relieved at once of its National Debt and of 
 Ireland. But the Jews were far too good trades- 
 men to entertain such a proposal, even if it had 
 been made to them. 
 
 Besides these small insinuations, there were not 
 wanting voices to bring forward again the old tales 
 of murdered Christian children, which were already 
 so well known to the English people by their 
 ballads. Yet unwearied, during his many years' 
 residence, Menasseh ben Israel carried on his battle 
 against ill-will and prejudice face to face with 
 his opposers. But he was never to attain the 
 great aim which he set for himself, the recall 
 of the Jews by a Parliamentary decree. For a 
 measure that must have recognised the principle 
 of Jewish emancipation, the time had not yet 
 arrived : still, the word had been spoken, ever 
 and ever to be taken up again after every defeat 
 until its final accomplishment. The severe oppo- 
 sition which arose from all sides made Cromwell 
 reflective. He summoned some of the most 
 
FBOM A OEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 285 
 
 esteemed members of the clergy and the legal 
 profession to a conference in the reception-room 
 of Whitehall, to sound opinions in some measure 
 before bringing the subject before Parliament. 
 Yery meagre records have we of this remarkable 
 assembly ; but so much we know, that Cromwell 
 interested himself with the utmost zeal for the Jews, 
 and an ear- witness relates that he had never heard 
 any man speak so well as the Protector did on this 
 occasion. It ended thus : Cromwell was convinced 
 that he could not carry through any legal decree, 
 and decided, therefore, for the practical way of 
 silent patience. What he could do personally to 
 the advantage of the Jews, and the honourable 
 champion of their interests, he did. He distin- 
 guished Eabbi Menasseh by a pension under the 
 State Seal ; and had the learned son of the Rabbi, 
 Samuel ben Israel, made a Doctor of the Uni- 
 versity of Oxford, as its Chancellor — the first, and 
 till now only case in which any Jew in England 
 has received the four-cornered cap, the golden 
 ring, and the kiss of peace. 
 
 So, driven away by the kings, the first Jews 
 returned to England under the Republic; not, 
 indeed, by reason of any decree, but simply by 
 reason of Cromwell's toleration. This last, how- 
 ever, seemed to be itself quite sufficient, as 
 
286 ENGLAND 
 
 appears from a remark of the English diarist^ 
 Evelyn, who, under date of December 14, 1655, 
 after the last conference at Whitehall, entered 
 the following words in his day-book : " Now are 
 the Jews admitted." 
 
 With this prospect for his people, and with high 
 honour for himself, Menasseh ben Israel in the 
 year 1657 returned to Holland, but not again to 
 see his house in Amsterdam. He died after his 
 landing at Middleburg, and was buried in the 
 Jewish burial-ground in Oudekerk. The inscrip- 
 tion on his tombstone runs thus : * 
 
 " The fame-crowned Menasseh rests buried under me ; 
 But through the style of iron and lead (that is, through 
 
 printing) 
 Is he in the whole world known as a glory and as an 
 
 ornament, 
 Since his works serve his head for a crown." 
 
 Under these lines in Hebrew, we find in the 
 Spanish language, " He is not dead, but lives in 
 the heights of Heaven in holy attire. Here upon 
 earth, however, remain his performances for an 
 eternal memorial." Also, in the Hebrew lan- 
 
 •* I have to thank the kindness of Dr. M. Wiener, in Hanover, 
 for the communication of the above inscription, and its inter- 
 pretation ; he borrowed it from the collection of old epitaphs 
 in that churchyard by Dc Castro. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 287 
 
 guage, round about the stone, we read : *' G-rave 
 of the distinguished and learned man, Menasseh 
 ben Israel, who died on the 14th of Kislew, 5418 " 
 (that is, the 20th of November, 1657). 
 
 "When two years later his powerful friend and 
 protector, Cromwell, in one stormy September 
 night, followed him into that quiet land, for 
 which, under the burden of the work that rested 
 upon him he had so often longed, the Jews found 
 themselves quietly settled in London, some in 
 Bevis Marks (Aldersgate), some in and about 
 Duke's Place, inhabited even to-day exclusively 
 by Jews, and the seat of their great synagogue. 
 They had received, under Cromwell, in the year 
 1657, a spot for the interment of their dead, 
 in Stepney, precisely where their hospital is now 
 standing. In the same year they erected their 
 synagogue in King Street, in the neighbourhood 
 of Duke's Place. Seven years later they esta- 
 blished their first benevolent society for the study 
 of the law, and for the care of poor Jewish 
 children ; and ten years later their number was so 
 strikingly increased that they elected their first 
 Rabbi in the person of the great Talmudist, Jacob 
 Sasportas, who had come over with Menasseh 
 ben Israel. Up to this time, only Portuguese 
 Jews had established themselves in London ; but 
 
288 ENGLAND 
 
 now came also G-erman Jews, who soon formed a 
 community; and as early as the year 1692, an 
 equally wealthy and pious member, Moses Hart, 
 brother of the first of their Rabbins, erected, at his 
 own cost, a synagogue in Duke's Place, on the 
 spot on which a hundred years after this, 1791, 
 the synagogue was built which stands there 
 at the present day, the largest in London, and 
 the official seat of .the *' land and sea rabbin" of 
 England. 
 
 " The dream of a kingdom" of God, which had 
 had its leader and judge in Cromwell, the Pro- 
 tector, and its holy singer in Milton, the poet 
 of Paradise Lost and Regained, had disappeared 
 after ten years' duration, and, as in the Bible, 
 there followed after the kings. 
 
 The Stuarts, when they returned to England, 
 found the Jews settled there ; and as they could 
 profit by them, did not care to drive them away. 
 From that time they fared neither better nor 
 worse in England than in most other countries. 
 
 Money transactions truly flourished, especially 
 in the days of the Restoration of King Charles and 
 his merry Court, the costs of which were mostly 
 covered through Jewish loans. Yery profitable 
 this might be for the merchants of Duke's Place, 
 but they did not gain much honour by it. The 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 289 
 
 more that was gained by them, the more right 
 there seemed to be to illtreat them. As no one 
 could now take their wealth as in the more simple 
 times of the Plantagenets, tbey were flattered when 
 it was required, and when it was obtained laughed 
 at. As Louis XIY. took Samuel Bernard, " his 
 Jew," for an airing in his coach in the garden 
 of Versailles when he meditated an attack on his 
 cash, so did the Duchess of Mazarin, affer she had 
 fled from France in boy's clothes, and arrived 
 in England, first make an assault on the heart 
 of '* her Jew " Moses, when she had need of 
 money. 
 
 Saint Evremond, her confident and friend, wrote 
 to his noble mistress, toward whom he indulged a 
 Platonic inclination, while she lived in Charles II.'s 
 castle : " Moses let me go half the way on foot, 
 while he spoke of you in such a manner that not 
 one of Solomon's eight hundred wives equalled 
 you in intelligence or beauty. When he is the 
 master of the shop we are likely to make good 
 bargains/' But as another of the country folk of 
 the beautiful Duchess said, "It is much pleasanter 
 to borrow than to repay." Their money was taken 
 at high interest, and the borrower felt himself safe, 
 while he cursed them as usurers and cheats. He 
 increased their wealth, and at the same time 
 
290 ENGLAND 
 
 covered their person with the stain of dislionour, 
 in doing which he certainly did not reflect, that 
 '* where wealth exists, might must necessarily 
 follow." 
 
 Since, in the past ages of chivalry and polite- 
 ness, few had engaged in monetary business, and 
 this business, indeed, had but an insignificant 
 and not seldom a mean character, it was very 
 willingly permitted to the despised race again to 
 take chief possession of it. However, the influence 
 and position of the Jews could not but rise as 
 soon as their occupation itself rose out of its 
 abject sphere, as soon as they increased to im- 
 portance, as soon as they began to exert an 
 influence in the organism of the State and lend a 
 fresh support to it, which added to Capital its 
 rightful share in the destinies of the State, and 
 which sought to estaUish, in those youthful days 
 of national economy, the relation of the State to 
 the Capital, as to-day, on a much more advanced 
 scale, the relation of Capital and Labour is sought 
 to be established. Capital was then a power 
 which, for its recognition, had no less to fight 
 than Labour at the present time ; one of the first 
 who, to his great credit, did not refuse the recog- 
 nition of Capital, was Marlborough, the great 
 General. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 291 
 
 It is true that the beat of that wonderful pulse, 
 which has continued through five ages of men to 
 show the alterations of the body politic, for the 
 first time found expression, early in the year 1692, 
 in the midst of that long-protracted war, which, 
 to enrich France, devastated the provinces of the 
 Continent ; and that this pulse beat again in the 
 year 1699, immediately before the end of that 
 century and the beginning of the long-waged war 
 about the Spanish inheritance. But yet was the 
 great man whom we have named — Marlborough 
 — an English Duke, and Prince of a German king- 
 dom, if not the first, who, with the keen glance of 
 a Greneral, marked the connection between pros- 
 perity and the money-market, in any case, the 
 first who opened that wide path for development, 
 in which speculation has since moved, and moves 
 to-day. 
 
 There were joint-stock companies in the year 
 1692, and the first time-bargains were, according 
 to Macaulay, made early in the year 1694; but 
 the trade with State papers first arose through 
 State debts, and for the last the Spanish war of 
 succession provided. The English National Debt, 
 for instance, which in the year 1689 amounted to 
 little more than half a million, and now, indeed, 
 amounts to some 750,000,000/., was at the end of 
 
292 ENGLAND 
 
 the Succession War, in 1713, grown to the respect- 
 able height of 53,000,000/. Marlborough seized 
 on this contingency with skilful hand; and since 
 he gave the element to the business, which up to 
 the present day remains its chief stem and stock, 
 the Duke may well be termed the originator 
 of the new Exchange, on which daily, as F. C. 
 Schlosser says, *'in all great States the fate of 
 Europe is bought and sold." But it must be 
 added, for the honour of the Duke, that no one 
 may venture to point to him as the originator 
 of stock-jobbing. Johnson says in his dictionary 
 that this word has no etymology ; but we find it 
 as early as two hundred years ago used as a 
 cant phrase, and jobbery was then (ironically 
 enough, if we think of the later destiny of the 
 expression) synonymous with robbery. The word 
 in its present use meets us in a comedy by Shad- 
 well, performed in 1693, * The Yolunteers, or the 
 Stock-jobbers ;' and Macaulay resents it as an 
 error that the existence of stock-jobbing should be 
 ascribed to the National Debt, whilst the former 
 preceded the latter by many years, and made use 
 of it for its own interest with all its power as soon 
 as it came into existence. 
 
 Meanwhile the position of the Jews in England 
 had somewhat improved, especially since William's 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 293 
 
 accession to the throne. Machado was his favourite, 
 and another Jew, Suasso by name, had advanced 
 to him the sum of two millions for his expedition 
 to England, with these words : — " Si vous etes 
 malheureux, je consens de les perdre; " an action, 
 the nobility of which has been mentioned with 
 praise by Frederick the Great in his * Memoires de 
 Brandebourg/ * As William was thus fortunate, 
 it may be supposed that he was also grateful. 
 So remarks the " Voyageur en Angleterre " who 
 visited England in the year 1698 :f — "The Jews 
 of London (I know not whether it be the same 
 elsewhere in England) have gradually ceased to 
 wear the yellow hat which they were formerly 
 engaged to wear, and at present have no dis- 
 tinctive dress." 
 
 It was about this time that a mania arose, which 
 we have since had the opportunity of learning to 
 know in its various forms as swindling. 
 
 A Scotch adventurer, of the name of John Law, 
 had established himself in Paris, and there had 
 
 * Compare Gratz, Voltaire and the Jews, in Frankers 
 * Monatsschrift.' 1868. Maiheft, p. 214. 
 
 t In Germany this engagement for the Jews endured far 
 into the following century; in Frankfort - on - the - Maine, 
 Charles VI. first released them from it. 
 
294 ENGLAND 
 
 founded a joint-stock company, known as tlie 
 Indian Company, for the purpose of gaining a 
 monopoly of trade with the Mississippi provinces. 
 Swindling is always infectious, and soon all Paris 
 and the whole of France was attacked by it. The 
 shares rose to twenty times the price of their 
 original value, and the chimerical value exceeded 
 (Yoltaire, ' Siecle de Louis XV.') bi/ twenty times 
 all the money that was then in circulation in the 
 French kingdom. In the Eue Quincampoix, the 
 principal theatre of this affair, from break of 
 day an impatient and busy multitude thronged, 
 knowing, as it seemed, no other hunger than that 
 of gold, which let pass by the regular hours of 
 meals, a multitude which could not be dispersed 
 even at night, until after a bell had given the 
 signal for the close of business. The smallest 
 chamber in this street was hired for an enormous 
 sum. The commissioners were not in a position 
 to be able to take note quickly enough of the 
 buyers as they pressed forward, and Lord Mahon, 
 in his ^ History of England,' relates that a little 
 cripple made not less than fifty thousand francs, 
 in lending his hump to the eager speculators for 
 them to sign their contracts on. 
 
 But this cripple was the only one who became 
 rich through all this monstrous speculation ; for. 
 
FBOM A OEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 295 
 
 as the noble historian whom we have before 
 mentioned says, " Although at first it was a farce, 
 it afterwards became a tragedy." 
 
 Its end began when it appeared that there were, 
 indeed, no countries about the Mississippi with 
 which it was possible to carry on any commerce ; 
 but this discovery was not made (for at that 
 time, as is well known, there were no steamboats 
 or telegraphs) before the disease had spread to 
 England, but with this difference, that here it 
 went deeper among the true populace, and again 
 higher into the Government circles, and even to 
 the throne itself, which Greorge the First had 
 ascended five years before — a good husband and 
 careful father — so far, to wit, as high percentage 
 was considered. This, under the new title of 
 the South Sea Company, left nothing, indeed, 
 to be desired. The shares which had stood at 
 130Z. in the winter, in the following August 
 stood at lOOOZ. The misfortune was that the 
 riches of the South Sea, on which the English 
 Company speculated, had, if possible, even less 
 existence than those of the Mississippi, which 
 John Law had monopolised. The double crash 
 happened at almost the same time, 1720, and the 
 blow was frightful in both countries. In Paris 
 the people clamoured only for the head of John 
 
296 ENGLAND 
 
 Law, who saved his Hfe by flight ; but in London 
 rang the cry, " the swindle of the Prince of 
 Wales!" through Change Alley and the corridors 
 of the Exchange Buildings. Blood and confisca- 
 tion were demanded ; an insurrection threatened ; 
 the mistresses of the King were persecuted ; — 
 Parliament ordered an inquiry, but thousands of 
 hitherto well-to-do families were ruined. 
 
 Like the cobbler in France, so in England, but 
 two people had gained by the general collapse — 
 a Minister and a Jew. The Minister was Robert 
 Walpole, who had sold his shares when they stood 
 at lOOOZ., with the words "I am content;" and 
 the Jew was Samson Gideon, the son of a West 
 Indian merchant. 
 
 Samson Gideon had not enriched himself in one 
 campaign with Marlborough, or with one specu- 
 lation as Walpole ; he had chosen the more tedious 
 course. He had not drawn any profit from the 
 losses of others, like the Minister; with the ex- 
 ception of this one profit ; namely, that he learnt 
 how one should not carry on such operations. He 
 had in the South Sea affair, and the hundred other 
 swindling transactions that were connected with 
 it, run through his curriculum, and the experiences 
 which he therein made were soon to bring him 
 good. An honourable, honest, and prudent man, 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 297 
 
 he knew how to make himself the friend of 
 Eobert Walpole, who was tolerant enough to avail 
 himself of the help of a Jew, in those financial 
 complications with which he was always concerned. 
 One of the principal sources of revenue for the 
 State in those days were the class lotteries, and 
 in this department it was that Samson Grideon, 
 under the protection of the Minister, laid the 
 foundation of his future wealth. But he made his 
 master-stroke in 1745, when the great Jacobite 
 insurrection threw the British world, and the mer- 
 cantile world especially, into the wildest conster- 
 nation. Charles Edward, the last of the Stuarts, 
 had landed on one of the Scottish islands, and 
 calling the clans under arms, had proclaimed his 
 father, the Pretender, under the name of James 
 the Third, King of Great Britain and Ireland, and 
 was now, with his army of Highlanders, on the 
 march to London, and but a few miles distant 
 from the Capital. 
 
 The panic at the Exchange was universal. The 
 funds fell with incredible rapidity, and every one 
 wanted to sell at any price. Samson Gideon was 
 almost the only man who did not lose his head. 
 Instead of selling, he spent every penny he had or 
 could borrow in buying. This was in the month 
 of November. During the following month the 
 
208 ENGLAND 
 
 public mind oscillated between hope and fear. At 
 length, at the end of April of 1746, the news 
 arrived of the battle of Culloden, of the complete 
 defeat of the insurgent army, of the flight of the 
 Prince, and of the triumphant suppression of the 
 rebellion by the Duke of Cumberland. Now 
 Samson Gideon began to sell, and in a short time 
 found himself in possession of something like a 
 quarter of a million — a sum which in the course 
 of fourteen or fifteen years quadrupled itself. 
 
 During the first half of the last century, Samson 
 Gideon's was one of the greatest houses, if not the 
 greatest house in the City of London, distinguished 
 especially, and deservedly so, not merely for correct 
 accounts, but for its ever-enduring superiority in 
 its promotion of assurances and revenues. But 
 Samson Gideon's ambition culminated in the effort 
 to form an English house. He was too old, he said, 
 to change his religion, but he had his children 
 baptized ; and, through Walpole's instrumentality, 
 his eldest son was made a baronet when in his 
 eleventh year. The worthy man gave himself 
 especial trouble to make the presumptive successor 
 to his house firm in his new religion ; and on one 
 occasion tried to catechise him on the most im- 
 portant points. "Who made thee?" was his first 
 question. "God," answered the boy. " Who re- 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 299 
 
 deemed thee ? " he further asked, without his con- 
 science presenting any difficulties to him. " Jesus 
 Christ," was the answer. But what was the third 
 question ? Grideon could not remember what he 
 ought to ask in the third place. " Who — who," 
 he stammered, and when absolutely nothing better 
 occurred to him, he asked, " Who has given you 
 this hat?" The young catechumen, Samson 
 Gideon, Jun., Baronet of England^ was more sure 
 of his business than his father_, and answered, 
 '^ The Holy Ghost." * 
 
 Gideon, senior, died in the faith of his fathers_, 
 1762. He left behind him, as heirs of his im- 
 mense fortune, a son and a daughter ; and legacies 
 amounting to above^ 100,000 thalers, which were 
 to be divided in equal shares between Jewish 
 and Christian benevolent societies and poor. It 
 seemed as if on his death-bed he was unwilling 
 to injure himself with either of the two faiths. 
 " Gideon is dead," we read in the letter of a con- 
 temporary, " and his inheritance is worth more 
 than the whole of Canaan." 
 
 Samson Gideon belonged to that portion of the 
 Jews which, under the name of " Sephardim," or 
 
 * H. E. F(ox) B(oiirne), ' The Merchant Princes of England.* 
 * London Society,' vol. ix. 1866. 
 
 X 2 
 
300 ENGLAND 
 
 " Portuguese " Jews, differs onJy in a few almost 
 immaterial ritual points (as, for instance, the pro- 
 nunciation of the Hebrew) from the Aschken- 
 esim, the German, or Polish Jews. The Portu- 
 guese Jews, under the ennobling influences of the 
 sunny south, and centuries passed in friendly 
 intercourse with the highly-cultivated Moors and 
 chivalrous Spaniards, became the nobility of the 
 Jewish people, whose beauty, knowledge, and 
 poetry they preserved, and took with them in their 
 second exile, when they fled from the Inquisition : 
 while the other branch of the Jews, more numerous 
 and enterprising, after its wandering through the 
 less cultivated lands of the north, and its residence 
 among rude inhabitants of Eussia, Poland, and 
 Germany, brought with it the traces of its natural 
 and spiritual impress. 
 
 To say that these two branches were two sects 
 would be too much, although we have almost as 
 much as considered them so already. At the pre- 
 sent time the best understanding exists between 
 the two in London and elsewhere, but thirty or 
 forty years ago, the bitterest animosity reigned 
 between their synagogues, of which the Portu- 
 guese held itself by far more important, and indeed 
 was so in its connections, than the German, and a 
 marriage between the followers of the one and the 
 
FBOM A OEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 301 
 
 other was regarded as a family misfortune. No- 
 where did this separation appear to have deve- 
 loped itself more sharply and more completely than 
 in England. For these Sephardim, or Children of 
 Israel, were only too pleased, perhaps influenced 
 by a feeling of dislike towards their less preferred 
 brethren, to turn from the faith of their fathers in 
 order to make the nobility, of which they con- 
 sidered themselves the supporters, of importance 
 in a social and acknowledged sense. *' They had 
 never," says the Right Hon. Benjamin Disraeli, in 
 the noble and simple biographical memorial of the 
 meritorious antiquarian, his father, Isaac D'Israeli, 
 " they had never left the coast of the Mediterranean 
 till Torquemada drove them out of their fair 
 palaces and rich possessions in Aragon, and Anda- 
 lusia, and Portugal, to seek even greater blessings 
 than a clear atmosphere and a glowing sun in the 
 marshes of Holland." 
 
 There remains no doubt that many of the 
 greatest and most important families of the second 
 Jewish migration, from the time of Cromwell, 
 belonged to this Portuguese branch ; but it is 
 just as certainly a mistake, when the Right Hon. 
 B. Disraeli says that all of them were Sephardim, 
 and that they had closed their synagogues to 
 the Hebrews of Northern Europe, who occasionally 
 
302 ENGLAND 
 
 had stolen into England, as from a lower caste. As 
 we have noticed long before, a synagogue had 
 been built by the German Jews in Duke's Place 
 early in the year 1692 ; and if the Portuguese 
 were considered superior to the Germans at first 
 in number, cultivation, and rank, the comparison 
 of the two branches of the Jewish community 
 would certainly in the course of the eighteenth 
 century have resulted to the discredit of the Por- 
 tuguese, after their great families became untrue 
 to them : such as the family of the Yilla Eeals, 
 which has brought wealth to these shores almost 
 as great as its name, although it is but the second 
 in Portugal, and which has twice connected itself 
 with the English aristocracy; or those of the 
 Medinas, the Laras, and the Mendez da Costas, 
 members of which last family I have known in 
 London, and now know in Manchester, and who 
 have never changed their religion. 
 
 To the Sephardim family, who came to England 
 at the time already mentioned and in the manner 
 before described, the family of D'Israeli belonged. 
 This family also, about the end of the fifteenth 
 century, had been obliged by the Inquisition to 
 emigrate from the Spanish Peninsula. Like so 
 many others of their fellows in faith and sufiering, 
 they sought an asylum on the then tolerant soil of 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 303 
 
 Italy, and found it in the Venetian Eepublic. Here 
 they laid down their proudly-sounding name which 
 they had borne in the land where, until their fall 
 under Ferdinand and Isabella, it had not been un- 
 usual for Jews to be the ministers and the physicians 
 to the King ; and thankful to the God of Jacob, 
 who had supported them under unparalleled trials 
 and preserved them through unheard of dangers, 
 they gave themselves the name of DTsraeli, a 
 name never before or since borne by any other 
 family, by which their race should be known for 
 ever after. 
 
 Unchecked and unimpeded, they flourished as 
 merchants during two centuries, under the protec- 
 tion of the Lion of St. Mark ; and early in the time 
 when the rapid rise of Samson Grideon's house drew 
 the eyes of the Jewish mercantile world towards 
 London, the then representative of the D'Israelis 
 at Yenice, sent thither the younger of his two sons, 
 Benjamin, " the son of his right hand," the grand- 
 father of him who has been three times Chancellor 
 and once Premier of England. 
 
 With the elegance which has always distin- 
 guished the pen of the last named, he has related 
 to us the story of the conversion of his family to 
 Christianity, rich in typical features and motives, 
 which indeed generally in similar cases have be-en 
 
304 ENGLAND 
 
 similarly influential. His grandfather had little 
 intercourse with his fellows in faith, and at most 
 was indifferent to them. The motive power of his 
 final rupture with them was his wife. " My grand- 
 mother," says the late Prime Minister of England, 
 " the fair daughter of a family who had suffered 
 much from persecution, had imbibed that dislike for 
 her race which the vain are too apt to adopt when 
 they find that they are born to public contempt. 
 The indignant feeling that should be reserved for 
 the persecutor, in the mortification of their disturbed 
 sensibility, is too often visited on the victim, and 
 annoyance is recognised, not in the ignorant 
 malevolence of the powerful, but in the con- 
 scientious conviction of the innocent sufferer." 
 
 This feeling of personal injury, so truly described 
 by a man in whom family tradition has preserved 
 many of its features, contributed, and contributes 
 yet more and more, to drive irritable natures, such 
 as the Jews possess, to a resolve which other worldly 
 advantages would have wrung from them only in 
 the most exceptional cases. Yet the battle lasted 
 seventeen years in the family of D'Israeli. 
 
 At the beginning of the year 1782 their con- 
 version to Christianity took place, and Benjamin 
 DTsraeli, the grandfather, was now a man who, 
 richly blessed with all good things, gained for him- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 305 
 
 self an estate in the neighbourhood of London, laid 
 out a garden in the Italian style, " entertained his 
 friends, played whist with Sir Horace Mann, who 
 had known his brother at Venice as a banker, eat 
 macaroni, which was dressed by the Venetian con- 
 sul, sang canzonettes, and notwithstanding a wife 
 who never pardoned him for his name, and a son 
 who disappointed all his plans, lived till he was 
 nearly ninety, and then died in 1817, in the full 
 enjoyment of prolonged existence." 
 
 This son, " to the last hour of his life an enigma 
 to him," was Isaac D' Israeli, one of the most 
 amiable of bibliographers and searchers into the 
 byways of history, whose books contain an 
 amassed treasure of anecdotal knowledge, and will 
 long form pleasant reading for the English, and a 
 compendium of inestimable worth for the curious 
 of that nation. Isaac DTsraeli died, aged eighty- 
 two, in February 1848, on his estate of Bradenham, 
 in Buckinghamshire ; and here, amidst memorials 
 of John Hampden, whose daughter was once 
 Countess of Bradenham, Benjamin Disraeli deve- 
 loped into the great Member of Parliament and 
 teacher of Constitutional Opposition, the eminent 
 statesman and novelist, whom we all know. It may 
 well have been the aristocratic bias of his fore- 
 fathers that induced him to fight out for himself a 
 
306 ENGLAND 
 
 place among the great feudal nobility which he 
 reflects in all his novels. But, to his honour let it 
 be said, never has he been ashamed of his origin or 
 denied it, either in his romances, in which he knew 
 how to combine the glorious romance of the Middle 
 Ages with a fanciful enthusiasm for Judaism, or 
 in his Parliamentary course, in which he, a bold 
 champion for Jewish Emancipation, contributed no 
 little to bring this question to a happy issue under 
 the second Derby Administration to which he 
 belonged. 
 
 Little had the grandfather of the Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer foreseen this position and aim of his 
 successor, when he turned back from business on 
 the eve of that great financial epoch with which 
 his talents enabled him so well to wrestle, and, 
 when the war and the loan of the Eevolution 
 began, to form those families of millionaires, among 
 which he would gladly have seen his own enrolled. 
 "But that was not our destiny," says, with a 
 modest laugh, the recognised Tory leader. 
 
 Indeed, the " Gold Principality in Israel " had 
 now passed from the Portuguese branch to that of 
 the Grermans in London. During the whole of 
 the eighteenth century, in England's large towns, 
 especially London and Bristol, a constant increase 
 of the Jewish element was perceptible, and it 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 307 
 
 made a great stride at the end of the before-named 
 period, when the war with France, and the- Conti- 
 nental embargo brought about by Napoleon, pro- 
 voked smuggling to the greatest extent. Now 
 came that concentration of Jews, chiefly from North 
 Germany, Hamburg, Hanover, the Ehine, and Hol- 
 land, in which last country their position had 
 become especially precarious, as being shut off from 
 all lawful trade, they were restricted to diamond- 
 cutting — a business in which some became rich, but 
 most went to the ground. 
 
 More firmly hanging upon old traditions, these 
 wanderers from the North had to suffer doubly, 
 from the reserve with which their fellows in faith, 
 refined by their residence in the South, looked down 
 upon them, and from the religious prejudice of the 
 English. To be sure, a happy effort had been 
 once made in the middle of the century to give 
 them a home-right in that land, in which they 
 now for nearly a hundred years had peaceably 
 lived. A Naturalisation Bill passed in 1753, by a 
 great majority, through both Houses of Parlia- 
 ment; but the City of London, with the Mayor 
 at its head, bore the matter so impatiently, that it 
 nearly brought about an insurrection. Great 
 masses of people thronged the streets of London 
 with the cry, " No Jews, no wooden shoes ;" and the 
 
308 ENGLAND 
 
 effect on the country did not fail. The witty Horace 
 Walpole wrote to his friend, Sir H. Mann, British 
 Ambassador at Florence : " You feared the fulfil- 
 ment of the prophecies which announced misfor- 
 tune and eternal dispersion to the Jews would be 
 hindered by an Act of Parliament, and their zeal 
 but wanted the presentation of a petition to both 
 Houses to determine the fulfilment of those pro- 
 phecies. The country parsons preached against 
 the bishops for making the Gospel untrue, and 
 aldermen got drunk in country clubs in the honour 
 of Jesus Christ, as they had done formerly for the 
 King of Jacob." 
 
 The Bill was obliged to be withdrawn ; but the 
 Jewish question had run its second course, and 
 shown what progress it had made since the 
 debates in the year 1655, when the subject had last 
 been openly treated. The intelligent portion of 
 the nation, its legislators, and highest clergy, were 
 won over to it. But how greatly the people were 
 opposed to it was to become manifest, and at one 
 time most menacingly, on the occasion of the Gor- 
 don. Biots in 1780, in which the rioters, though 
 certainly first of all intent only on the Catholics, 
 taking advantage of the favourable opportunity, 
 began also as they passed along to demolish the 
 houses of the Jews, who, in order to protect 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 309 
 
 themselves, wrote on their window-shutters, " This 
 is a true Protestant house." In the meantime the 
 community, which at the beginning of the century 
 had in London numbered no more than sixty or 
 seventy families, with one synagogue, had increased 
 so much by immigration, that it had in 1770 three 
 synagogues. 
 
 The great man of this time — the era of George III. 
 — was Aaron Goldsmid. He was not so rich as 
 Samson Gideon, but he was the better man, and 
 certainly a stricter Jew in the inviolable tradi- 
 tions of his Church. Goldsmid had come from 
 Hamburg, and established himself in London as a 
 merchant in the middle of the century. His house 
 arrived at its highest prosperity after his death, 
 under his four sons, and the coup which every 
 house must at some time make when it wishes to 
 raise itself at one effort above others, this firm 
 made at the time of the French Eevolution. At 
 the head of the business were then the two brothers, 
 Abraham and Benjamin ; men of acknowledged 
 integrity, and allied in friendship with Newland, 
 the then chief cashier of the Bank of England. 
 He also was a self-made man, who had risen from 
 a baker's shop to his enormously influential position ; 
 in which his administration was of so much service, 
 that his likeness at the present day adorns the so- 
 
310 ENGLAND 
 
 called " Bank parlour," the sitting-room of the Bank 
 Directors. By means of Newland the brothers 
 Goldsmid were brought into connection with the 
 Government, which, since the year 1793, was com- 
 pelled to have recourse to continual loans in con- 
 sequence of the Continental War. But it was not 
 only what was won through a conspicuous share in 
 these operations that raised the wealth of the 
 brothers, but rather this, that they did not lose at 
 a time when, through war and revolution in all 
 corners of Europe, great houses broke in numbers 
 from day to day. One of the most noticeable 
 characteristics of Benjamin was his astonishing 
 knowledge of firms, which was not confined merely 
 to England, but embraced the whole money 
 market in and out of Europe. He valued with a 
 certainty bordering on the marvellous every name 
 which he found on the back of any bill. The firm 
 had to thank this circumstance that in the dan- 
 gerous year 1794, when through the increasing 
 war of the Revolution the foundation walls of the 
 whole commercial world tottered, and great firms 
 fell like card-houses round them, the entire loss of 
 the brothers Goldsmid came to no more than 50/. 
 sterling. At the beginning of the present century 
 there was no house in London greater^ more 
 brilliant and universally esteemed than this. The 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 811 
 
 magnificence of its undertakings was no less famed 
 than its solidity. The benevolence of its members, 
 especially towards their fellows in faith, knew no 
 bounds. Their hospitality, offered with open hand, 
 was eagerly and willingly received. They had 
 splendid houses in town and rich possessions in the 
 country, where they not seldom collected around 
 them the most distinguished men and the leaders of 
 the society of that period. 
 
 But a sad end was destined for this house, which 
 had been in every respect so great and esteemed. 
 One morning in April 1808, the youngest brother, 
 Benjamin, was found dead in his bedroom. In a 
 fit of melancholy, to which he was more and more 
 subject in the latter part^of his life, he had hanged 
 himself to his bed-post. 
 
 His elder brother, Abraham, did not long survive 
 him. Ever afterwards he mourned the loss of his 
 brother, to whom he had been deeply attached 
 during the whole of his life ; and it seemed as if 
 with that brother the star of the house of Goldsmid 
 had paled. No undertaking would prosper, as in the 
 old fashion ; and at last, in the year 1810, Abraham 
 embarked his whole fortune on a fresh Grovern- 
 ment loan of 14,000,000/. sterling, which he dis- 
 counted with the house of Baring. The business 
 failed. The house of Baring, also of German 
 
312 ENGLAND 
 
 origin, and now of European fame, survived the 
 crash ; but its chief, Sir Francis Baring, died, and 
 Abraham Goldsmid — shot himself. 
 
 In the gap which two such powerful men had 
 left in the city of London a new name appears, 
 Eothscliild, The house of Rothschild, or, as the 
 English will persistently call it, " Ross-scheild," 
 established its world-wide power on the ruins of 
 the house of Goldsmid. 
 
 When we speak of Rothschild, every one knows 
 what that means. Greater than Gideon, greater 
 than Goldsmid, the house of Rothschild rules not 
 only the money-market of the City, but that of the 
 whole world. It was left for our age to observe the 
 accumulation of riches, to which those of Crcesus 
 bear the same relation as the hanging gardens of 
 Semiramis and other wonders of the ancient world, 
 to, let us say, the Crystal Palace at Sydenham, 
 the railway over the Semmering, the Mont Cenis 
 tunnel, and the Transatlantic cable. And yet it 
 is but a hundred years ago that a very unpretend- 
 ing little man, in a very unpretending house, and 
 behind a very unpretending counter, sat under 
 the sign of the Red Shield in the Jews' Street of 
 Frankfort ; no more than seventy-five years ago 
 that the French marched into Frankfort, and Meyer 
 Amschel fled with his gold and silver to Cassel, and 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 313 
 
 entrusted it to the keeping of the Landgrave of 
 Hesse ; not more than sixty-six years ago that the 
 Landgrave, in the meantime advanced to the Elec- 
 torate, flying before the French, entrusted his gold 
 and silver to his business friend in Frankfort ; and 
 no more than sixty years ago that this Meyer 
 Amschel Rothschild, who was born six years 
 before Groethe, died at the age of sixty-nine years, 
 leaving behind him 12,000,000 florins. To be 
 sure at the present time, under the new conjunc- 
 tures and constellations in the financial world, the 
 house of Rothschild no longer holds, as it did 
 ten years ago, an uncontested power. Other 
 powers, the great Credit Institutes, have grown 
 up near it and forced it into the shade : Asso- 
 ciation has broken its isolated rule. But we all 
 remember the time when the name of this dynasty 
 was connected with every great operation in the 
 money market; and by the side of many other 
 deposed princes of the last ten years the house of 
 Rothschild will always maintain an historical 
 interest. 
 
 With what emotion did Borne lead the young 
 Heine, one winter evening of the year 182 7, through 
 the Jews' Street of Frankfort, which, so dark 
 by day, was then gaily illuminated, because " the 
 children of Israel on that evening, as my cicerone 
 
 y 
 
^14 ENGLAND 
 
 told me, celebrated their joyful Feast of Lamps." 
 Tbey stood before the house of old Madame 
 Rothschild. "Do you see," said Borne ('Hein- 
 rich Heine, on Ludwig Borne,' p. 35), "here in 
 this small house dwells the old woman, the 
 Lsetitia^ who has borne so many financial Buona- 
 partes ; the great mother of all loans, who, in 
 spite of the magnificence of her kingly sons, 
 the rulers of the world, will never leave her 
 small family castle in the Jews' Street, and has 
 to-day adorned her windows with white curtains 
 in honour of the great feast of joy. How plea- 
 santly sparkle the little lamps, which she has 
 kindled with her own hands to celebrate the day 
 of victory, in which Judas Maccabaeus and his 
 brethren so bravely and nobly delivered their 
 fatherland, as in our days Frederick William, 
 Alexander, and Francis II, While the old lady 
 looks on these lamps the tears start in her eyes, 
 and she remembers with a sad delight that younger 
 time when her dear husband, the sainted Meyer 
 Amschel Rothschild, celebrated the Feast of Lamps 
 with her ; and her sons were yet small babies, who 
 planted their little lamps on the floor, and jumped 
 over them here and there in childish ecstasy, as is 
 the way and custom in Israel." 
 
 Upon his death-bed Meyer Amschel made his 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 315 
 
 five sons bind themselves by an oath that they 
 would never separate, but would carry on the 
 business in company; that they would augment 
 the property as much as possible, but never divide 
 it. Every one knows how conscientiously this 
 oath has been fulfilled ; and the consequence was 
 that the house of Eothschild, increasing with 
 each year, grew powerful, not merely in its 
 riches, but in the number of its sons, sons-in- 
 law, nephews, and grandsons ; a house which 
 divided within itself the principal exchanges of 
 the world, which was diplomatically represented 
 in foreign parts, and finally which regulated its 
 afi'airs_, its marriages, its dowries and inheritances 
 by its own family laws. The principal of this 
 new dynasty was, so long as he lived, the London 
 Eothschild, Nathan Meyer, the third son of the 
 old Amschel. 
 
 Nathan Meyer came to England in his twenty- 
 first year, towards the end of the last century, 
 with a starting capital of no more than 20,000Z. 
 sterling. He first went to Manchester, where the 
 calico trade had risen to a height before unknown. 
 The young man understood how to pursue his 
 advantage ; and whilst his modest competitors 
 were satisfied with being either manufacturers or 
 sellers, Nathan Meyer was both, and acted also as 
 
 T 2 
 
316 ENGLAND 
 
 banker for all. His exertion repaid itself so well, 
 that in about six years his fortune bad increased 
 tenfold. With this 200,000/. be betook bimself, 
 in 1803, to London, tbe theatre of mercantile 
 greatness, in which he in a very short time 
 became of such consequence that Levi Barnett 
 Cohen, a Jewish City magnate of the first rank, 
 gave him his daughter in marriage. 
 
 It is said that he almost repented entrusting his 
 child's fate to a young man whose speculations 
 grew daily more bold and hazardous, but Nathan 
 Meyer consoled him with the remark, " You have 
 only, Mr. Cohen, given me one of your daughters, 
 but you could have made no better financial specu- 
 lation than by giving me the lot." 
 
 The War of Independence was the great event 
 for Nathan Meyer and his house. First appearing 
 as a rival of the then sovereign house of Gold- 
 smid, he expected the restoration of the Bourbons. 
 He reckoned that the last day of the Eevolu- 
 tion would be just as decisive for the fortune of 
 the Kothschilds as its first had been for the 
 fortunes of the Goldsmids. He set himself in 
 readiness for the war, taking the opportunity of 
 the Government loan of 1810, in consequence 
 of which the two greatest banking-houses of the 
 time, Gideon and Baring, fell. Upon this, Nathan 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 317 
 
 Meyer opened his campaign. He bought up the 
 bills which Wellington discounted in the midst of 
 the Spanish war, and which the English Grovern- 
 ment had no money to pay. Through the pro- 
 longation of these bills, Nathan Meyer accredited 
 himself to the Government, and made a good 
 business. A direct relation between him and the 
 Government was now set on foot. It found him 
 very necessary because of his Continental connec- 
 tions, and made use of them repeatedly as its agents. 
 Through his hand the moneys passed to the army, 
 and the subsidies to the Allied Powers. Supplied 
 with the most accurate news which were to be had, 
 through his brothers on the Continent_, he learnt 
 more, by means of his relations to the English 
 Ministry, of its home and foreign politics than 
 any other man in England. And he was never 
 wanting to the occasion. He became suddenly a 
 breeder of pigeons. His acquaintances, who had 
 not been hitherto aware of any bucolic tendencies 
 in the bold financier, were astounded, but the 
 root of the matter was that he was educating 
 carriers. His pigeons soon flew to south and east, 
 whilst fast-sailing vessels on the shortest route 
 which he could discover by the aid of sea-charts, 
 carried his messengers, and sacks of gold, to 
 and from the coasts of Germany, France, and 
 
318 ENGLAND 
 
 England. It does no little honour to the keen- 
 wittedness of this wonderful man, that the packet- 
 boats which ply at the present day between 
 Folkestone and Boulogne have selected as the 
 shortest passage much the same way which 
 Nathan Meyer first discovered for his own sail- 
 ing-vessels. 
 
 Whilst in this manner Nathan Meyer made his 
 movements, the great armies made theirs. The 
 victorious fires of Leipsic, the entrance of the 
 Allies into Paris, Elba, the Hundred Days — all 
 this drove Wellington and Bliicher, but also 
 Nathan Meyer, to the crisis, to the battle of 
 Waterloo. At this battle Nathan Meyer was 
 present in person. From his lurking-corner, in 
 the neighbourhood of the Castle of Hougou- 
 mont, he followed the fluctuations of the 18th 
 of June with no less anxiety than did Wellington 
 or Napoleon. But when towards evening he 
 understood that the Prussians were there, and 
 saw Wellington and Bliicher at sunset greet 
 each other on the heights of Belle Alliance, he 
 said, " The house of Eothschild has won the 
 battle ! " and mounted a horse which during 
 the whole day had been standing ready saddled 
 for him. He rode through the whole night, and 
 arrived early in the morning at Ostend. The sea 
 
FBOM A OEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 319 
 
 was so stormy that no sailor was willing to take 
 him across. At last he succeeded in inducing 
 a fisherman to make the attempt for 80/. By 
 evening he was at Dover, and on the Exchange 
 in London early on the 20th of June. Eeports of 
 the gloomiest nature had meanwhile been spread 
 over the City, and Nathan Meyer took parti- 
 cularly good care not to disperse them. In the 
 sole possession of the secret, he was as eager 
 to buy, by means of his agents, as all others 
 were anxious to sell. When on the 21st of June 
 the Exchange closed, the paper chests of Nathan 
 Meyer in St. Swithin's Lane were crammed, and 
 an hour later arrived the Government courier 
 with despatches from the field of battle. The 
 whole of London rang with shouts of victory, 
 and the next morning the Exchange opened with 
 fabulous prices. On an English ship of war 
 the mighty son of the Revolution, the captive 
 Emperor, was carried to his rocky prison of 
 St. Helena. Louis XYIII. once more ascended 
 the throne of the Bourbons, and Nathan Meyer 
 stood under his pillar in the south corner of the 
 Exchange Buildings of London richer by about 
 a million. 
 
 From this day dates the lustre of the house of 
 Rothschild. Enterprises of moderate, or perhaps 
 
320 ENGLAND 
 
 unfortunate results, like the English loan of 1819, 
 or the French of 1823, were more than compen- 
 sated by other enterprises, which like the gain of 
 the mines of Almada in Spain, and of Idria in 
 lUyria, made the Eothschilds monopolists of the 
 whole quicksilver traffic of Europe. By degrees 
 the house became the agent of almost all Govern^ 
 ments, and all great loans were concluded in great 
 part by its means. But the brothers, mindful 
 of the oath which they had made to their dying 
 father, maintained faithful partnership; and by the 
 marriage of male and female cousins, almost with- 
 out exception, the colossal fortune remained over 
 the second generation, not only in an unlessened, 
 but in a continually, by its own power, increasing 
 bulk. How rich Nathan Meyer became for his 
 own part no one knows. Some estimated him 
 at three, others at ten millions sterling. But both 
 calculations are probably below the mark. He 
 left to his widow an annuity of 20,000^. besides 
 his residence in, and a landed estate near London. 
 Each one of his four sons as soon as he attained 
 his majority had to receive 25,000^., and was to 
 possess, further, 75,00 OZ. upon his marriage. To 
 his three daughters, besides the 25,000/. which 
 each one received on arriving at her majority, 
 he left by will 100,000/. ; one half as a marriage 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 821 
 
 gift, and the other half to remain in the business, 
 and with interest at four per cent. It was on the 
 wedding day of his eldest son, Lionel, who in 
 the year 1836 married one of his Neapolitan 
 cousins, that Nathan Meyer was suddenly taken 
 ill. A few days later, on the 28th of July, he 
 died, not sixty years of age^ and on the following 
 morning one of his carrier-pigeons, which flew 
 over Brighton, was accidentally shot. It was to 
 bring to London the news of his death. On its 
 neck was found a slip of paper with these three 
 words, " II est mort."* 
 
 * H. R. F. B. ' The Merchant Princes of England,' &c. 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 lY. 
 
 The day had now arrived in which Macaulay's 
 proverb was to be verified, namely, that power 
 must necessarily follow wealth. For the third 
 time in the course of two hundred years had the 
 Jews' question been brought before Parliament, 
 and this time to disappear from it no more until 
 its complete solution. The battle lasted for twenty- 
 eight years, but its conclusion was a decided 
 victory. 
 
 It was in the year 1830, that Mr. Robert Grant 
 made a motion, to be allowed to bring into Parlia- 
 ment a Bill which removed the civil disabilities of 
 the Jews. The motion was carried through its 
 first reading by a majority of eighteen voices, 
 but fell in the second by a majority of thirty-six. 
 Upon this Macaulay, in January in the year 1831, 
 wrote his classic essay on the civil disabilities 
 of the Jews. In it he says : " The points of 
 difference between Christianity and Judaism have 
 very much to do with a man's fitness to be a 
 Bishop or a Rabbi. But they have no more to do 
 with his fitness to be a magistrate, a legislator, or a 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 323 
 
 minister of finance, than with his fitness to be a 
 cobbler. Nobody has ever thought of compelling 
 cobblers to make any declaration on the true faith 
 of a Christian . . . Men act thus, not because they 
 are indifferent to religion, but^ because they do not 
 see what religion has to do with the mending of 
 their shoes. Yet religion has as much to do with 
 the mending of shoes as with the budget and the 
 army estimates." Again : "He said it would be 
 impious to let a Jew sit in Parliament. But a 
 Jew may make money; and money may make 
 Members of Parliament. Gratton and old Sarum 
 may be the property of a Hebrew. An elector of 
 Penrhyn will take 10 pounds from Shylock rather 
 than 9 pounds 19 shillings and 11 pence three 
 farthings from Antonio. . . . That a Jew should 
 be a Privy Councillor to a Christian King would 
 be an eternal disgrace to the nation. But the Jew 
 may govern the money-market, and the money- 
 market may govern the world. The Minister may 
 be in doubt as to his scheme of finance till he has 
 been closeted with the Jew. A Congress of 
 Sovereigns may be forced to summon the Jew to 
 their assistance. The scrawl of the Jew on the 
 back of a piece of paper may be worth more than 
 the Royal word of three Kings or the national 
 faith of three new American Republics." 
 
324 ENGLAND 
 
 In the year 1833, Mr. G-rant brought forward 
 his motion again, and this time, supported by the 
 warm eloquence of Macaulay, it passed through 
 with eclat. 
 
 Parhament was opened to the Jews. The only 
 thing now was to set foot in it. But this was 
 not so easy. In the first, place a Jew must be 
 elected. It was to be shown whether the people 
 in a body were as enlightened as their representa- 
 tives in Parhament. For a hundred years, from 
 1653 to 1753, Parliament had not given a favour- 
 able regard to the subject. Now it was to be 
 seen what progress the people had made in the 
 next hundred years, from the eighteenth to the 
 nineteenth century. 
 
 As early as 1836, the first Jew, Mr. Salomon, 
 presented himself before an English constituency 
 at Shoreham, but without success. In 1841 he 
 again appeared before that of Maidstone, and this 
 time with no better result. But in the year 
 1847 two Jews were elected at the same time for 
 the City, Mr. Salomon at Greenwich, and Baron 
 Lionel Rothschild, the son of Nathan Meyer. 
 When, however, both of them, using their rights, 
 were about to take their seats, there was still 
 a last hindrance in their way, the formulary of 
 the oath. This exchided them for another eleven 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 325 
 
 years. It was the last, stage in the two hundred 
 years' battle. 
 
 The words of the oath, "upon the true faith 
 of a Christian," had also so far excluded the Jews 
 from the acquisition of any municipal freedom, 
 and thereby from any municipal honours. But 
 it was now, after the Church and State had 
 long made good what they had done against 
 the Jews in the days of Cromwell, that the City 
 which had declared itself against them, even to 
 the times of the Pelhams, itself first opened for 
 them a way into Parliament. The impulse in 
 favour of the Jews was universal. The whole 
 population of England, of all classes, was prompt 
 to recognise in them fellow-citizens. As a sig- 
 nificant token of the change of feeling must be 
 noticed the gigantic success of a piece which 
 had been written with the express object of 
 pleading for the long-despised race, ' The Jew,' 
 by Cumberland. Brought out in the last decade 
 of the foregone century (1793) at Drury Lane, 
 this play remained for more than a third part 
 of our own a favourite of the British public. It 
 was also familiar on the German stage, and 
 even at the present time it occasionally appears 
 upon the boards. A piece with a particular 
 purpose, in the best sense of the expression, its 
 
326 ENGLAND 
 
 poetical worth was not sufficient to conquer pre- 
 judice ; but the hardest part of the task was, 
 just the reverse of what is seen in Germany, 
 accomphshed already on political ground. To 
 begin the contest a Lessing was necessary. In 
 England it had prospered so far that a Cumber- 
 land was sufficient. On the other hand, the dif- 
 ference between Shakspeare's and Cumberland's 
 Jew, between Shylock and Scheva, shows the 
 great distance which public opinion had travelled 
 during two centuries. Scheva, though without 
 any civil right, has yet a sort of acknowledged 
 existence as a citizen. He lives in Duke's Place, 
 is the broker of a rich City merchant. Sir Stephen 
 Bertram, and *'no man's character stands higher 
 in Change Alley," the then Exchange of London. 
 Though in his outward appearance not much 
 better than Shylock, his injured feeling does 
 not erect itself stubborn, proud, and revenge- 
 ful against his persecutor, but his heart is 
 tender and gentle, and "flows," as Borne says, 
 " abroad in a sea of beneficence." A niggard 
 in the satisfaction of his own wishes, he is a 
 spendthrift in fulfilling those of others in hard 
 battle with himself, he converts his enemies into 
 friends. " Speak not of my goodness, T give 
 nothing for the sake of goodness. When pity 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 327 
 
 is loosed from my heart, whether I will or not, I 
 give — what can I do else ?" The end of the piece 
 does not exhibit the poor Scheva humbled and 
 ashamed, but the rich City merchant and baronet 
 of England. "This is the man," exclaims Eat- 
 clifFe, as he points to his benefactor, " the widow's 
 friend ! the orphan's father ! the poor man s pro- 
 tector ! the universal philanthropist ! " Upon 
 which Scheva, who had promised to his young 
 Christian friend his entire fortune, replies, "I do 
 not bury it in a synagogue, or in any other 
 pile; I do not waste it upon vanity or pubHc 
 works, I leave it to a charitable heir, and build 
 my hospital in the human heart." 
 
 Not all Jews are Schevas, but, as this one says 
 to the rich City merchant, " so are not all Chris- 
 tians Bertrams." 
 
 " It is curious," says Lamb, in his analysis of 
 Marlowe's * Jew of Malta ' {' Specimens of English 
 Dramatic Poets.' Bohn's edition, p. 28), " to see 
 a superstition wearing out. The idea of a Jew, 
 which our pious ancestors contemplated with such 
 horror, has nothing in it now revolting. We 
 have tamed the claws of the beast and pared its 
 nails, and now we take it to our arms, fondle it, 
 write plays to flatter it : it is visited by princes, 
 aifects a taste, patronises the arts, and is the 
 
328 ENGLAND 
 
 only liberal and gentlemanlike thing in Christ- 
 endom." 
 
 We have heard similar pious ejaculations in Ger- 
 many from over-anxious minds ; but neither here 
 nor in England have they hindered the Jew's quiet 
 and steady progress ; and after the good citizens 
 of London had wondered at the noble Scheva for 
 thirty-seven years on the stage of Drury Lane, 
 they gave to him the long-sought right of citizen- 
 ship. It was in the year 1830 that, after the 
 alteration of the formulary, the first Jew was 
 allowed civic honour, and in 1835 Mr. David 
 Salomon became Sheriff of London and Middle- 
 sex. In the year 1845, under Sir Robert Peel, 
 the Act passed through Parliament which per- 
 mitted, on the installation into office, the addition 
 " on the true faith of a Christian " to be dispensed 
 with, and immediately we see two Jews as alder- 
 men of Aldgate and Portsoken. 
 
 They had now passed through the great City 
 gate, and it could not be long before they might 
 venture to step into Parliament. A precedent 
 was established, and the stream of public feeling 
 was too strong for the last hindrance not at last 
 to yield. Meanwhile the Jews did everything on 
 their side, and in respect to this matter no name 
 will have a more honourable recollection attached 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 829 
 
 to it through the future than that of Sir Moses 
 Montefiore. One of the first Jewish Sheriffs of 
 London, he was one also of the first to whom 
 Queen Victoria awarded the honour of knight- 
 hood in 1837, in the early days of her prosperous 
 reign. Three years later, the frightful persecu- 
 tions of the Jews in Rhodes and Damascus gave 
 to this singular man the opportunity of display- 
 ing the whole grandeur of his humane disposition. 
 It will ever remain in grateful remembrance how 
 then, in the universal horror which stunned the 
 world at this relapse into the barbarities of the 
 Middle Ages, this one man arose with energy of 
 action to carry rescue and help. Six hundred 
 years had flown by since, on this English ground, 
 the debt of Christian bloodshed had been charged 
 against the Jews ; now it was charged again in 
 the far East, and now it was England which 
 prepared a Grovernment vessel, under the flag of 
 Great Britain and Ireland, for the oppressed. 
 
 It is well known, and will never be forgotten, 
 how Sir Moses Montefiore carried on single-handed 
 his mission, and how his return resembled a 
 triumph. It was no longer one of Cumberland's 
 characters speaking as Scheva on the stage of 
 Drury Lane, but in the Mansion House, the palace 
 of the Lord Mayor of London, before a large 
 
 z 
 
330 ENGLAND 
 
 and splendid assemblage of all most distinguislied 
 and noble in England, these words were beard : 
 "None of our fellow-citizens is more jealous to 
 promote humanity, to help the poor and needy, to 
 protect the orphan, and to favour literature and 
 science, than yourself; your benefits are not con- 
 fined to those of your own creed, but Christians 
 rejoice in them as well as Jews." Queen Victoria, 
 inspired by the desire of '' giving our true and 
 beloved Sir Moses Montefiore an especial mark 
 of our Royal favour for his continual labours on 
 behalf of his sick and oppressed brethren in the 
 East and the nation in common," allowed him an 
 heraldic decoration, which was formerly permitted 
 only to peers, and persons of the highest rank. 
 She gave to him the so-called " supporters," which 
 were designed to immortalise his services, viz., a 
 lion, a stag, and a banner, with the Hebrew 
 inscription " Jerusalem."* 
 
 So stood the Jews on the threshold of Par- 
 liament for fifty years ; while only the Tories 
 hindered them from crossing it, by refusing to 
 yield to any modification of the form of the oath, 
 after the precedent of the City. Then out of 
 their own ranks stepped forth a champion, to 
 
 Gratz, '' History of the Jews,' xi., 535, 552. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 331 
 
 whom it was destined to bring the cause he repre- 
 sented to a glorious issue. It was in the year 
 1851 that he, in the 'Political Biography of Lord 
 George Bentinck/ for the first time eloquently 
 and expressly pleaded for the admission of the 
 Jews into Parliament, after having exhibited 
 long before in his romances a glowing pre- 
 ference for them. The composer of this bio- 
 graphy, no other than Benjamin D' Israeli^ then 
 merely a gentleman without any title, had the 
 gratification of seeing his cause gradually carried 
 through by his party, and in the year in which 
 his work reached its fifth edition, and himself 
 became for the second time Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer, the decided victory was proclaimed, 
 and on the 26th of July, in the year 1858, the 
 first Jew, Baron Lionel Rothschild, entered the 
 English Parliament, whilst for the first time 
 the words of the form of the oath *' on the 
 true faith of a Christian," were omitted; and 
 soon after, six other Jewish Members followed 
 him. 
 
 In relating the history of the Jews in England 
 we have handled a theme which already almost 
 entirely belongs to the history of the past. But 
 of all the interesting, indeed wonderful features 
 which it has brought under our notice, this last, 
 
 z 2 
 
332 ENGLAND 
 
 which through D 'Israeli brought about the crisis, 
 is perhaps, in its whole bearing, the most interest- 
 ing and the most wonderful. In fact, it was a 
 phenomenon, significant not m.erely for England 
 but for the whole modern world, that he, by birth 
 a plebeian, who reconstructed the Tory party, and 
 as its head, struck at the Whigs with their own 
 weapon, viz., the Eeform Bill, to conquer in that 
 moment in which the Eeform Bill, carried through 
 by him, came into operation; that he, if not a 
 born Jew, was at least a Christian only since his 
 twelfth year, the 31st of July, 1817,* and the son 
 of parents, w^ho both (his mother was a Basevif) 
 had been members of the Portuguese Jewish 
 community of London. 
 
 On the day, in the year 1868, in which he 
 was seen Prime Minister at the head of Her 
 
 * " Baptized 81st July, 1817. Benjamin, said to be twelve 
 years old, son of Isaac and Maria D' Israeli, King's Koad, 
 Gentleman." Baptismal Register of St. Andrew's, Holborn, 
 London. * Athenaeum,' 12th September, 1868, p. 336. 
 
 f *' A Basevi flourished at Prague in the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, and was raised by the German Emperor to the rank 
 of nobility under the title of " Basevi von Treuenfels ; " after- 
 wards, being entangled in the fall of WaUenstein, he was 
 crushed, together with that mighty Duke, and died in 
 misery." — Julius Rodenberg, in ' Deutschen Landen.' 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 333 
 
 Majesty's Grovernment, he expiated that other day 
 in which, in the year 1290, a Plantagenet drove 
 his unfortunate banished ancestors over the sea, 
 after they had been pillaged and plundered ; and, 
 with four English dukes on his right hand and 
 on his left, D'Israeli then wiped away once for all 
 the robbery of half a thousand years. 
 
 The whole number of Jews settled in Great 
 Britain and Ireland amounts to 40,000, of which 
 the greater number live in England, and 25,000 
 in London alone. Of these latter 5000 may be 
 reckoned as belonging to the higher, 8000 to the 
 middle, and 12,000 to the lower classes. 
 
 In the higher class of Jews we find English 
 baronets— Sir Francis Goldsmid, 1841 ; Sir Moses 
 Montefiore, 1846 ; Sir Anthony Kothschild, 1846; 
 and Sir David Salomons, 1869: seven Members 
 of Parliament, and finally, a large number belong- 
 ing to the professional callings of gentlemen — 
 lawyers, physicians, merchants. 
 
 From various and evident reasons, to which we 
 will return, the circle of trade among the Jews of 
 England is always relatively contracted, although 
 it has a tendency to enlarge itself, and already 
 embraces in London the following occupations : — 
 goldsmiths, watchmakers, cigar manufacturers, 
 smiths, and locksmiths. It is a remarkable cir- 
 
334 ENGLAND 
 
 cumstance tliat the Jews, especially those from 
 Poland, devote themselves by preference to glass- 
 works.* The women employ themselves in the 
 manufacture of shirts and umbrellas, bonnets and 
 slippers. The sale, too, of fish and fruit is fol- 
 lowed largely by the Jews of London. 
 
 Whilst the upper and middle strata of the 
 Jewish population in England enjoy in rich abun- 
 dance the blessings of this enlightened period, 
 the same cannot be said of the mass of the lower 
 Jewish class. No greater difference can be ima- 
 gined than between the fine and aristocratic 
 Jewish inhabitants of the West End and their 
 fellows in faith crowded together in musty corners 
 of the City. There they may be seen sitting thickly 
 packed in the old grimy and unhealthy quarters in 
 which their fathers and forefathers dwelt. Their 
 exchange is the rag-exchange of Houndsditch, and 
 their principal street is Petticoat Lane, a narrow, 
 evil-smelling alley, in which, from early to late, 
 bartering and cheapening, baking and roasting, 
 are carried on. The blind alleys and courts 
 around are stuffed with old clothes and lumber. 
 The door-steps and gutters exhibit a truly Oriental 
 
 * Cracroft, ' The Jews of Western Europe,' vol. ii. (Essays). 
 London, 1868. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 335 
 
 fertility, peopled with little, dirty, dark-eyed, dark- 
 haired, crawling beings ; and with the squalls of 
 children is mixed the scolding of their fat mothers, 
 the laughter of pretty, carelessly clad girls, organ- 
 playing, singing, and the eager, loud talk of 
 chaffering men, who have for ever some old thing 
 • — now an old coat, now an old watch — in their 
 hand. Everywhere German is spoken; not the 
 German of Sanders' Dictionary, but a Gemauschel, 
 or Jewish German slang, which only the initiated 
 can understand. 
 
 Between this class of Jews and their Christian 
 neighbours a wall of division always stands, which 
 could not have been firmer even in the times of 
 the burning and demolishing of their houses in 
 the Middle Ages ; but neither the religion of the 
 one, nor the prejudice of the other, is in fault. 
 Such division is just as much in the nature of 
 things as the contempt with wlnich the Christian 
 Londoner looks down on the Christian Irishman, 
 who carries on, not far from that neighbourhood 
 which we have described, much the same employ- 
 ment as his neighbour, the Jew of Petticoat 
 Lane, poor and dirty as he, but in a far worse 
 state of moral abandonment and decay. The 
 difference lies in this; that the cultivated and 
 wealthy Jews take care of their uncultivated 
 
3836 ENGLAND 
 
 and poor brethren in faith, in another and more 
 magnanimous manner than either is, or perhaps 
 could be, the case with any other religious com- 
 munity. If we could not be assured of this upon 
 its own showing and experience, the testimony 
 might be summoned of one who knows perfectly 
 well the circumstances of the poor in London, and 
 has lately published the result of his researches 
 upon this subject in an ample work.* 
 
 That the greater number of the new arrivals 
 are without means scarcely needs especial men- 
 tion. The Jewish immigration into England, 
 especially London, is continually stronger, and 
 Holland, North Germany (Hamburg), and Poland, 
 supply the greatest share. The new-comers either 
 help to enlarge the originally not very extended 
 circle of poverty among the Jews, or they join 
 themselves to their brethren of Petticoat Lane, 
 and increase the number of traffickers. Towards 
 both, the tendency of Jewish benevolence extends 
 itself in London. The effort is made to draw away 
 the lower class of the Jews more and more 
 from traffic and lumber, and to educate them for 
 hand-labour, manufactures ; and in one word, for 
 
 * Dr. Stallard, * London Pauperism amongst Jews and 
 Christians.* London, 1867. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 337 
 
 work. But manifold obstacles oppose this design. 
 The indigenous Jews of the lower classes are uni- 
 versally so strong adherents to the Mosaic law that 
 it is not possible, or at least, not easy, to put them 
 under the instruction of a Christian master, on 
 account of the Sabbath festival, the laws with 
 regard to food ; and of Jewish masters there are 
 none, or very few. An endeavour was made to 
 procure labour for them in the docks, but this was 
 decidedly the worst place for the commencement 
 of any civic activity among the Jews. The dock- 
 men soon enough abused and beat their Jewish 
 rivals out of the docks. But for these immigrants 
 there are even more formidable obstacles. They 
 arrive, for the most part, in a miserable con- 
 dition ; they can neither speak the language, nor 
 are they of the age when it is most easy to learn 
 anything. The progress of reform in this direction 
 will therefore be very tedious, and must naturally 
 be contented with small results for the present, 
 and hope for greater in the future. Yet the chief 
 part is done already by the recognition of the 
 need of internal reform to realise a complete 
 emancipation, and to render that not the privilege 
 of a few, but the right of all. And in England 
 people seem to have attained to this view. " The 
 great Jewish famihes," says Dr.Stallard, "literally 
 
338 ENGLAND 
 
 vie with one another in liberaHty and personal 
 regard for the welfare of their less-favoured 
 brethren. Schools and establishments contribute 
 to this object, not merely by removing poverty, 
 but also, and especially for the rising generation, 
 by awakening a desire for regulated occupation, 
 and, together with the position of the poor, to 
 improve the educational standard of the lower 
 Jewish classes generally." 
 
 It deserves to be mentioned with praise, that 
 even this lowest class of the Jews in London (as, 
 indeed, do the Jews generally) enjoys, in respect 
 of morality, the highest reputation, and that it is 
 one of the greatest exceptions to find a Jewess, 
 either old or young, in a London prison. Further, 
 no poor Jew may make any claim for help, unless 
 he declares that — supposing he has children — he 
 sends them to the school in which instruction is 
 imparted gratuitously. 
 
 This is the way to make those prejudices, 
 which in the higher classes of society have already 
 been wholly laid aside, disappear also from the 
 great masses of the population. More and more 
 will the Jews turn from the sole art of gain — 
 which begins in the sublime regions of the Ex- 
 change to end in the sordid shops of the lumber 
 market — from this gain, to which, indeed, the 
 
FBOM A QEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 839 
 
 shortsightedness of earlier ages had condemned 
 them, to busy themselves with other employ- 
 ments; and, labouring and wrestling in all the 
 domains of public life, to share in the fate of 
 nations, with which the holiest interests have in- 
 separably connected them. 
 
PICTURES OF ENGLISH HIGHROADS. 
 
Up to tlie present time England is far more than 
 Germany the land of railways. To say that in 
 England there is scarcely one village from which 
 you may not travel to another by means of the 
 railway is as nothing, when we reflect that in 
 London there is scarcely a house from which one 
 may not proceed to any other by the railway, be it 
 either by that which runs beneath the foundations 
 of the houses, or over the roofs of the same. It is 
 therefore no easy task to depict the peculiar life 
 of English highroads. The difficulty is to find 
 any highroad that has not yet been superseded by 
 railways. Where such an one exists, however, 
 there are we certain of perceiving pictures and 
 features which belong to the bygone century, 
 and with themselves carry us back at once to that 
 period. But there are a few spots in England 
 from which the highroads will never disappear — 
 those in which it is impossible to construct a 
 railway. First, because of its romantic charms, 
 ranks amongst ihese railroadless neighbourhoods 
 the so-called " English Lake District," in the far 
 
344 ENGLAND 
 
 North, close to the Scottish border, in "Westmore- 
 land and Cumberland. Here the mountains tower 
 around like the wall of a fortification, and wild 
 and riven precipices bar any entrance to the 
 steam-horse ; at most permitting him to set down 
 on the borders those strangers whom he brings* 
 Once entered, the traveller has at his disposition 
 the good old English highroad, and upon this 
 do I entreat the honoured reader to follow me, in 
 order to show him all its beauty. 
 
 That which attracted me in these English 
 lakes, long before I had ever seen them, was 
 their names, which I had sometimes read on the 
 walls of railway-stations, and more frequently 
 in my Bradshaw, the guide-book, par excellence^ 
 of the English. Some of them, it is true, were 
 simply designated as waters ; as, for instance, 
 Coniston Water, the first of the lakes which we 
 reach in coming from the south; but by far the 
 greater number of their names are formed from a 
 combination with "mere," as Windermere, Gras- 
 mere, Buttermere, &c. Now this "mere" is no 
 other than our German "meer," a circumstance 
 which has often made me wonder that it should 
 have disappeared from the language of those of 
 our family stock, who are most connected with it 
 and all belonging to it. But the truth is that ih^ 
 
FROM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 345 
 
 English in their sense of ** meer," as we call it, 
 are more thoroughly German than the Germans 
 themselves, since our old poems, as for instance 
 the ' Gudrun,' always speaks of See, We re- 
 cognise two kinds of " See,'' The great See (femi- 
 nine), or ocean, and the See (masculine), or lake. 
 Our German sailors to this day call the Mediter- 
 ranean the Mittelsee. The Englishman knows 
 but one See which washes around the islands and 
 the world. The word " meer " he has either never 
 had or has lost, except in this retired district of the 
 lakes, and then, contrary to the present German 
 use of the word, it implies an inland water. 
 
 With Coniston Water the panorama of these 
 lakes opens when, as already stated, the traveller 
 comes from the direction of the south. It is the 
 last piece of railway on this side, and a wild piece 
 of railway it is, wrested from the mountain which 
 towers above it more and more boldly, with inde- 
 scribable obstacles. The journey from Furness 
 Abbey, the last station, is a continuous clatter over 
 bridges and ravines, accompanied by a thunder- 
 ing echo from the abysses and bottoms of the 
 opening mountain- world, till the train suddenly 
 stops immediately on the border of the lake. Here 
 we have the first glimpse of the Lake country, the 
 first narrow track of water, which, seen through a 
 
 2 A 
 
346 ENGLAND 
 
 vista of trees, sparkles up as out of a goblet of 
 mountain stone covered with green. Coniston 
 Water is a modest beauty, and by no means so 
 gifted with charms as its more preferred neigh- 
 bours. Nevertheless, with its quiet deep blue, and 
 in the silent environment of its chain of hills, 
 it affords an interesting picture when beheld from 
 the hotel, which, not far from the station, is built 
 on a projecting tongue of land, and is surrounded 
 by a garden of brightly-smiling colours. 
 
 Under the stone portico stood Mrs. Atkinson, 
 the hostess, and Miss Atkinson, the daughter of 
 mine host — the former plump, well-favoured, 
 with brick-red cheeks, the latter slight, elegant, 
 and fair. This scale of figure and complexion 
 is peculiar to the race of landladies in Great 
 Britain. Of landlords I speak not. I believe, 
 indeed, that such persons as landlords must 
 exist, but they are never visible. The land- 
 lord of an English hotel concerns himself about 
 everything except his guests. He is generally 
 a robust sportsman, an angler, and horse-ama- 
 teur ; but the cares of entertainment devolve on 
 the women. The only places in which one is 
 likely to have a glimpse of him are the drinking- 
 room, in which he assumes the manners of a 
 guest, or the stable, in which he shows those 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 347 
 
 of a connoisseur. Life in these country inns is 
 peculiar, old-fashioned, and comfortable. In these 
 remote nooks and corners of England a good 
 deal of the olden time is retained, both as re- 
 gards the journey and the hotels. There is an 
 atmosphere of comfort around, and a smattering 
 of solid humour which refreshes the heart after 
 the dry hotel prosers with their long stiff collars, 
 and still longer reckonings. Every hotel, too, 
 here has its sign-board, very charmingly painted 
 with this or that fine scene, to which is sometimes 
 added some very pretty and religious sentiment ; 
 as, for instance, the following, or something like 
 it, which I have seen on one of the sign-boards 
 of this neighbourhood. 
 
 *''0 son of man, that livest by bread alone, 
 What gives thy jolly nose so red a tone ? 
 Come in and take a drink, donkey's head, 
 No one for nought need show a nose so red ! " 
 
 But to return to Mrs. and Miss Atkinson, still 
 standing beneath the portico. Horses, coaches, 
 and coachmen, were arrayed before them in vast 
 numbers. Let no man imagine that these coach- 
 men are children of men not more uncommon 
 than ourselves ! In these mountain-districts of 
 England, where the railway has not been able 
 to put down from its position the coach, the 
 
 2 A 2 
 
348 ENGLAND 
 
 good old coach, there remains for its driver some 
 of the glory of the coaching days of Old England, 
 when discontented parish priests, officers on half- 
 pay, and misguided younger sons, " took to the 
 highroad," as was the expression at that time, 
 that is, became coachmen; but did not thereby 
 cease to be " gentlemen," and were called " gen- 
 tlemen of the whip," in contradistinction to those 
 other gentlemen who also practised on the high- 
 roads, and were called '' gentlemen of the road," 
 and " captains ;" and translated into the language 
 of the present day would be termed robbers. High- 
 way robberies were then a recognised resource 
 for " gentlemen in distress," or " under a cloud/' 
 i.e, " for people of position who had no means of 
 support for their wives and children, or for them- 
 selves; as, for instance, was the case with the 
 highwayman who, in Fielding's romance, at- 
 tacked our friend Tom Jones and his companion, 
 the schoolmaster Partridge, "about a mile from 
 Highgate." 
 
 This " highwayman " was but a novice in his 
 profession, and his pistol was — unloaded. Amid 
 crying, and importunate imploring entreaties for 
 mercy, when Tom Jones had cast him on the 
 ground, he confessed that he had been driven by 
 " distress, the greatest indeed imaginable," to 
 
FB03I A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 349 
 
 this step, since he had five hungry children 
 and a wife, who was already confined with a 
 sixth. The noble-minded Jones not only gave his 
 conquered enemy life, but in addition, the unloaded 
 pistol and a couple of guineas, whereat the poor 
 sinner was so touched that he reforms in the course 
 of the romance, and under the eye of the reader. 
 Those who engaged: seriously in their calling kept 
 their pistols carefully loaded, and stationed them- 
 selves, as soon as darkness grew in, upon some one 
 of those hilly heaths over which the road to London 
 lay. The heaths of Hounslow and Blackheath, 
 and Highgate and Primrose Hill, were especial 
 favourites for this purpose ; for though highway 
 robberies abounded in all parts of the kingdom, yet 
 they were most rife, from very evident reasons, 
 within a circle of thirty miles round London. Here 
 the gentleman held himself concealed in night 
 and dusk, till the heavy wheel of a carriage 
 or the tramp of a horse was heard, and then 
 stepped out on to the path of the belated travel- 
 lers, and, if they were not better armed than 
 himself, soon compelled them to stand by pre- 
 senting a pistol. 
 
 The ingenious Horace Walpole, who lived 
 scarcely a mile from London, on his estate at 
 Strawberry Hill, wrote, even in the year 1782, in a 
 
350 ENGLAND 
 
 letter to the Earl of Strafford, that he could not 
 after sunset venture twenty minutes' walk from 
 his house without having one or two servants with 
 him armed with blunderbusses. People had become 
 so accustomed to this warfare on the highroads, 
 that from both sides it was regarded as a sort of 
 accomplishment; and as there were very famous 
 highway robbers, so were there not wanting 
 great noblemen, who gained a name for them- 
 selves by their manner of getting rid of them. 
 To these belonged Earl Berkeley, of whom Lord 
 Mahon, or Earl Stanhope, relates in his ' History 
 of England' the following amusing anecdote: — 
 One day, so goes the tale, the Earl, who, after 
 darkness had set in, was travelling over Hounslow 
 Heath, was aroused from his slumber by a strange 
 face at his carriage- window, and a loaded pistol at 
 his breast. 
 
 " Now, I have you at last, my Lord," said his 
 assailant, " after all your boasting that you would 
 never let yourself be robbed." 
 
 ** Nor would I now," replied the nobleman, 
 whilst he thrust his hand in his pocket, as if with 
 the object of drawing his purse from it, '* if it were 
 not for the cursed knave who is looking over your 
 shoulder." 
 
 The robber turned himself hastily round to see 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 361 
 
 the pretended second person, wlio might, perhaps, 
 dispute his booty with hira, but at this moment 
 the Earl substituted his pistol for his purse, and, 
 less magnanimous than Tom Jones in the romance, 
 shot his opponent dead upon the spot. 
 
 All this was done with the greatest good- 
 nature, and the newspapers of the time referred 
 to it in a similar and quite business-hke tone. 
 " Last Saturday evening," says the ' St. James's 
 Chronicle ' of 1762^ " was Mr. Sims, the architect, 
 of Edgeware, set upon by a well-dressed highway- 
 man, on Dollars Hill, near the sixth milestone on 
 the Edgeware Road, and robbed of his money and 
 his watch." Or, "On Saturday the post-chaises 
 on this side of Dartford were stopped by three 
 men in ambush, who were armed with pistols and 
 whips, and robbed of a considerable sum. The 
 three men were afterwards seen on Blackheath 
 on their road to London." 
 
 It was not, however, the rule for highwaymen 
 to associate in this way, and to work in company. 
 They exercised their profession, for the most part, 
 each for himself, and at his own peril. 
 
 Many a reader may here well ask how it could 
 possibly be, that a sohtary pistol should accomplish 
 such deeds of bravery. Now this doubt has been 
 already settled by our before-mentioned friend the 
 
352 ENGLAND 
 
 schoolmaster Partridge, who during the pugilistic 
 combat of his master, Tom Jones, with the faint- 
 hearted highwayman, had buried himself in a 
 ditch, from Avhich, after the conclusion of the 
 battle, when safety was reassured, emerging again 
 into view, he thus soliloquised over the uncer- 
 tainty of fire-arms. " A thousand naked men are 
 nothing against one pistol ; for although it is true 
 that it can only kill one at a shot, nobody can say 
 whether he may not be that one." 
 
 But " the road " was not only the last resource 
 for honest people with wives and children to get 
 food, "the bloods," aristocratic "good-for-nothings," 
 who had gambled or betted away all their fortune 
 at White's, made use of this same means to re- 
 cover their money, and rendered highway-robbery 
 in one , period of the last century a very fashion- 
 able means of livelihood. They gave to it the per- 
 fection of better birth and finer education, which 
 was removed beyond the narrow horizon of people 
 of the lower class. And under their hands it 
 changed its original character of a trade for 
 that of a liberal art, for the exercise of which 
 a great portion of grace, generosity, and gal- 
 lantry, was necessary. Out of this class arose 
 the " Captains," whose knightly adventures and 
 lioble deeds inspired the story-tellers of that day 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 353 
 
 with so mucli enthusiasm for murder and assassi- 
 nation. Some of these — for instance, a certain 
 Defoe, a lineal descendant of the writer of *Eobin- 
 son Crusoe,' — brought the pursuit to a high pitch 
 of popularity ; and to see these men, with all the 
 graces of their virtuous mode of life, carried to 
 their end at last on the gallows at Tyburn was 
 an enjoyment for the people, for which they 
 hired places long beforehand, as for a cock-fight 
 or boxing-match. The biographer of Oliver Gold- 
 smith, Mr. John Forster, relates in reference to 
 this that in that time scarcely a Monday arrived 
 which was not a " black Monday " for Newgate 
 (the criminal prison of London). An execution 
 was as regular as any other weekly exhibition, 
 and if it should happen that a shocking spectacle 
 of fifteen condemned to be hanged was reported, 
 the interest was naturally so much the greater. 
 George Selwyn, one of the most famous wits of his 
 day, spent quite as much of his time in Tyburn 
 (where the gallows stood) as in his fashionable club 
 at White's; and Boswell, Johnson's biographer, 
 had a dress of execution black, so that he might 
 appear at the scaffold in good taste. Indeed, there 
 was a kind of terminus technicus for this species of 
 delinquents, describing them as " hanged for the 
 highway." " The Flying Highwayman " seems 
 
354 ENGLAND 
 
 to have obtained great celebrity in this line; 
 of him ihe old newspaper out of which I have 
 taken some extracts (the ' St. James's Chronicle ' 
 of 1762)_, often makes mention, and always with 
 becoming reverence. " Some days ago " ( it says 
 in one place) " ' the Flying Highwayman,' known 
 under the name of Campbell, robbed the postil- 
 lion of a gentleman in Colebrook of 1 guinea, 
 3 shillings, and 6 pence in coppers. He asked the 
 fellow how far he had to travel, and was answered, 
 ' A good way, with 3 turnpikes to pay ; ' whereon 
 the robber returned him the silver and copper, 
 saying, ' When you reach home, say that the 
 " Flying Highwayman " is not taken, as has been 
 reported, and, as a proof, you can tell how you 
 met him to-night,' and thereon he bade the lad 
 good-bye." 
 
 The false report about " Captain " Campbell, as 
 this old newspaper informs us two pages further 
 on (such stories of robbers are its principal 
 themes), originated in the seizure of another 
 " Captain " named Walter, or Samuel, or Norris 
 (he went by all these terms in turns), who, after 
 he had served in Bourgoyne's light cavalry, de- 
 cided upon the highway as a more profitable mode 
 of getting money. Like the greater number of 
 his comrades, he at last had his " payment in full 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 355 
 
 at Tyburn ;" and his appearance at the foot of the 
 "tree" is described by the same paper as "that of 
 a good-looking young man with an honest face." 
 
 Whence came, will the German reader ask, 
 not only this condition of extreme insecurity, but 
 much more the popularity of the robbers of Eng- 
 land ? It is a characteristic which is deeply 
 implanted in the English national character ; and 
 Henry Taine, in his ' History of English Litera- 
 ture,' calls attention to this characteristic when he 
 mentions Eobin Hood, the m(march of the woods, 
 who even to this day lives in the peoples' songs 
 and plays, and quotes of a later date, in the 
 fifteenth century, the Chancellor, Sir John Fortes- 
 cue, who expresses himself in the following 
 manner : — " O'est la lachete et le manque de coeur 
 et de courage qui empeche les Fran^ais de se 
 soulever, et non la pauvrete. Aucun Frangais 
 n'a ce courage comme un Anglais. On a souvent 
 vu en Angleterre trois ou quatre bandits par 
 pauvrete, se jeter sur sept ou huit hommes hon- 
 netes, et les voler tous ; mais on n'a point vu en 
 France sept ou huit bandits assez hardis pour voler 
 trois ou quatre hommes honnetes. C'est pourquoi 
 il est tout-a-fait rare que des Fran^ais soient 
 pendus pour vol a main armee, car ils n'ont point 
 le coeur de faire une action si terrible." 
 
856 ENGLAND 
 
 With a sort of malicious joy the honest Chan- 
 cellor goes on to tell, that from the above-named 
 causes more robbers had been hanged in England 
 in one year than in France in the course of seven 
 years. Indeed, the national opinion of the supe- 
 riority of English robbers was still so uncontested 
 at the end of the last century, that in a letter 
 which the well-known Philipp Moriz, in 1785, 
 wrote from England to the Dean Gedike in 
 Berlin, we read: "Our fellow-passenger in the 
 waggon began to maintain the honour of Eng- 
 lish highway robbers against French, the latter 
 only robbed, he said, but the former murdered 
 also." A celebrated and learned French traveller, 
 M. Pierre Jean G-rosley, Member of the French 
 Academy and of the Royal Society of London, 
 who visited England in ] 765, made the passage 
 from Dover to London one Sunday. Owing to 
 the reigning quietude of the Sabbath, he found 
 nothing to eat on the way, but, and with this he 
 consoled himself, he found also no highway robbers, 
 who on other occasions abounded on that road ; 
 from which it follows that these gentlemen, besides 
 their other virtues, possessed that of religion — 
 they rested from their labour on the Sabbath. If, 
 however, for this reason, the pleasure was denied 
 to the French Academician of making their per- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 357 
 
 sonal acquaintance, he was yet able to see some 
 specimens of them here and there — on gallows by 
 the roadside. There they figured^ he tells us, in 
 wigs, and clothed from head to foot. 
 
 Highway robbers formed then so much a stand- 
 ing article in every correct book of travels and 
 sketch of English people, that Seyfart also, in his 
 * Present State of England, 1757," has devoted to 
 them an entire chapter, in which he (charac- 
 teristically enough), after the definition of the 
 word "gentlemen," immediately passing on to 
 robbers^ says that the number of English highway- 
 men was the result of too great liberty. " They 
 are quite different," he says, " from our footpads 
 (JBuschkleppern). Their excursions are generally 
 on horseback. They are met in woods and highways 
 generally with masks. One of these ' gentleman 
 of the highway,' as the English call them for 
 honour's sake, will stop your coach, put a pistol to 
 your breast, and demand a certain sum, or strip 
 you of everything if he is an unpolite specimen ; 
 but generally they are good enough not only to 
 leave you enough to continue your journey to the 
 next stage, but to allow you afterwards to redeem 
 your property." 
 
 One sees tlie profession had its rules and its 
 laws, which could be found laid down in the 
 
358 ENGLAND 
 
 handbooks of the period, just as to-day we are 
 instructed in a ' Badeker ' or ' Berlepsch/ about 
 behaviour towards landlord, waiter, or boots, with 
 this difference only, that the highwaymen always 
 considered themselves '' gentlemen," and took 
 what they desired only as " knights'-alras." 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 359 
 
 II. 
 
 This cliivalric race, which enlivened in such an 
 extraordinary manner the monotony of the high- 
 ways and the romance of the last century, is now, 
 alas, utterly exterminated, but the " coaching 
 gentleman " still remains. He wears as of old 
 his red coat with brass buttons, his red waistcoat, 
 his white felt hat, and his pair of yellow calf-skin 
 gloves on his hands. The horses only are his 
 concern, and these only when they stand ready 
 harnessed. Their attendant, so long as they find 
 themselves in the stable, is the ostler, and the 
 boundary where the duties divide is the pole. As 
 soon as the horses are ready for departure, the 
 coachman gives the signal, with his horn, for 
 the passenger's ascent troubling himself, little about 
 his freight, which he leaves to take care of itself, 
 and the passengers clamber up the wheels and 
 spokes as best they can to find their places. He 
 himself takes up his position with a noble repose, as 
 if all this did not concern him, on his lofty seat 
 in front ; on which like a king he sits enthroned 
 above the passengers, receives whip and reins 
 
360 ENGLAND 
 
 from the ostler, four horses start, and the coach 
 flies away as in a storm. 
 
 The noble steed, and all connected with him, 
 stable and ostler, has a quite different appearance 
 in England from that which it has in Germany. 
 Everything is dignified and well-to-do. The 
 Englishman has not forgotten that Hengist and 
 Horsa were his ancestors ; he considers, there- 
 fore, his coachman not as one of his other ser- 
 vants^ and does not pay him like them a " salary^" 
 but an " honorarium," and treats him with the same 
 politeness that he shows to his physician or his 
 lawyer. Although the veneration for the English 
 coachman is now great, yet was it once far 
 greater, — it was, indeed, almost a worship; it 
 cannot, therefore, surprise us, that at the same 
 time in which reduced gentlemen took to the 
 highroad in order to improve their circumstances 
 by highway robbery, other " gentlemen " in like 
 conditions seized on the whip, a position not less 
 honourable, and far more honest. Among the 
 coachmen of those days were numerous officers on 
 half-pay^ members of learned societies^ and men of 
 rank. 
 
 The * Athenaeum,' in an article of the year 18 GO 
 (we know not the number, as we do not unfor- 
 tunately find it in our notes), says, that such a 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 361 
 
 coachman was sometimes the best man, as well by 
 birth as by cultivation and learning, on the outside 
 of his fully-packed coach. " In the days," adds 
 the same-mentioned article, " in which coach pro- 
 prietors were as great men as railway contrac- 
 tors now, when Richard Ironmonger represented 
 Stafford, and William Chaplin" (this firm of carriers 
 is still great in London) " sat in Parliament for 
 Salisbury, their best ' whips ' were not infrequently 
 first cousins and younger brothers of landed pro- 
 prietors, through whose parks they had driven 
 their foaming teams. Proben, the handsome youth 
 who drove the Reading coach for years, was a 
 captain of the royal army who had sold out, and 
 he left ' the road ' only to betake himself to a 
 handsome property which he had inherited. So 
 Dennis, who concluded his career by driving 
 the Norwich coach, was a clergyman, wlio gave 
 up the post of vicar in Berkshire when he mounted 
 the box of the ' White Hart,' which went from 
 London to Bath." 
 
 This worship for " the whip " reached its climax 
 in the days of George TV., who was himself an 
 accomplished coachman, as even Thackeray in his 
 " Four Georges " admits, and he seldom finds much 
 to praise in him. " He drove once,'* he there says, 
 *'in four hours and a half, from Brighton to 
 
 2 B 
 
362 ENGLAND 
 
 Carlton House, a distance of fifty-six miles." 
 Those were the sunny days of the '' Four-in- 
 hand Oluh," i.e. of driving from the hox with four 
 horses. The elite of the youthful aristocracy of 
 that time belonged to this club. Those who had 
 their own team made an arrangement with the 
 drivers of the stage coaches, whereby they might 
 once a week ^' finger the ribbons " and " tool 
 the team," just as the young noblemen of our 
 own time find a pleasure in standing in sooty 
 smock-frocks near the engine-driver on the loco- 
 motive, to direct the engine all day from London 
 to Edinburgh and back. But the members of the 
 " Four-in-hand Clubs " went farther. A certain 
 Hon. Mr. Ackers, a rich and distinguished young 
 man, allowed one of his front teeth to be extracted 
 for no other object than that he might be able to 
 spit in the right manner like a coachman ! And 
 in a book which was very popular at that time, 
 and which Murray has lately re-published in his 
 railway library, viz., Nimrod's * The Eoad,' we 
 read : " When so great a person as Sophocles did 
 not think it beneath him to expose his wisdom 
 before the public in playing at ball, wherefore 
 should an English gentleman not practise his 
 talent on the coach-box ?" 
 
 Although to-day we find neither the scholars of 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 363 
 
 Sophocles, nor the first cousins or younger brothers 
 of the great landed proprietors upon the above- 
 named seat, yet the seat next the coachman is 
 still regarded as the place of honour, as much on 
 the country coach with four horses as on the 
 London omnibus. 
 
 I, with my contracted Grerman views, had cer- 
 tainly preferred a place on the back seat near 
 a friendly young lady with a blue veil drawn 
 down ; but in the forepart, near the coachman, 
 there had grouped themselves the following: a 
 ''reverend" with a long coat and a white necktie, 
 a corpulent farmer, a man in a mackintosh, a 
 young married couple, a photographer with a 
 camera obscura^ a " volunteer " with his gun — 
 which is always carried by these soldiers of peace 
 as a walking-stick on all their pleasure excur- 
 sions — a TiOndon attorney with the ' Saturday 
 Review' in his pocket, and a dentist who fre- 
 quented the neighbourhood. Behind these people, 
 and on the roof of the coach, sat an old woman, a 
 little child, and a dog, which was tied to the rail. 
 The interior of the coach was used partly as luggage 
 room, and partly as an asylum for invalids and 
 aged travellers, for every healthy traveller prefers 
 the outside, especially as it is cheaper. Here the 
 luggage was so closely packed together that there 
 
364 ENGLAND 
 
 was only space for two old people and two dogs, 
 the former of whom were constantly crying out 
 that the boxes were falling on their feet, and the 
 latter were perpetually yelling, apparently from 
 the same reason. 
 
 Of such a journey, amid such noise and circum- 
 stance, it is scarcely possible to convey an idea to 
 a German reader. How one goes up-hill and down- 
 hill, and how madly one goes up. No sensible man 
 would expect such a thing of a German horse, but 
 the power and endurance of English horses is truly 
 amazing. They are fed also in a totally dif- 
 ferent manner. The oats which they eat stand to 
 them in the same relation as the roast beef which 
 their masters are accustomed to eat. This it is 
 which gives to both their well-nourished and 
 compact appearance, and causes the fearless dash 
 round sharp corners and edges, over water, rocks, 
 and precipices, which to a German wlio sees it all 
 for the first time, give actual heartache. One 
 passenger falls on another, as the coach, whirling 
 this way and that way, deposits the lady and 
 myself in each other's arms, her in mine or me in 
 hers, whilst we are powerless to prevent it. At 
 first I attempted to apologise, but she merely said, 
 *^ Never mind.'* 
 
 But to proceed thus at a continual gallop, how- 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 365 
 
 ever mucli packed the coach may be, or however 
 mountainous the district, could not, with all due 
 praise to English horses and coachmen, be pos- 
 sible, if the way, the highroad, were not splen- 
 didly even. 
 
 The English highroad is the best of the kind 
 anywhere. In the English highlands and the far 
 off mountain-districts of Cumberland it is of the 
 same strength and solidity as in the low country of 
 Kent and Sussex. It is everywhere as smooth and 
 even, as dry and firm, as the floor of our sitting- 
 room, and there are no obstacles in the ground. 
 The English highways are the triumph of road- 
 construction^ and as such are extolled by the 
 poets and prose-writers of England. Thus Dr. 
 Johnson, England's oracle, says that there can be 
 no earthly pleasure greater than to travel in a mail- 
 coach over a good highroad, at so many miles an 
 hour (I cannot exactly remember how many) ; and 
 Byron, in his * Don Juan ' (x. 78), sings thus : — 
 
 *' What a delightful thing 's a turnpike road ! 
 So smooth, so level, such a mode of shaving 
 The earth, as scarce the eagle in the broad 
 
 Air can accomplish, with his wide wings waving." 
 
 The perfection of the English highways is due 
 to the system of macadamizing, which, long known 
 and employed by ourselves, has made the name of 
 
3G6 ENGLAND 
 
 its originator immortal, although we daily tread 
 him under our feet. Mr. M'Adam (MacAdam) 
 was an old Scotch gentleman (living from 1755- 
 1836), who, as he dwelt in the neighbourhood 
 of the most frightful roads, hit on the fortunate 
 idea that, could a road be strewed with a quan- 
 tity of small stones, it might be kept dry and 
 hard, and free from ruts. He also made the 
 economical calculation that the necessary process 
 of gradual trituration might be accomplished, 
 not by the makers of the I'oadway, but by the 
 wheels of the vehicles of those who made use of 
 it. People smiled at first at the whim of the 
 old gentleman, but before he died he had realised 
 10,000/. in one year alone, by superintending the 
 several post-roads constructed upon his own plan. 
 
 But the English highways were not always 
 what they now are. After carriages had been 
 introduced under the first Stuart who sat upon 
 the English throne, it was necessary to have 
 masses of brushwood strewn whenever the King 
 wished to go to Parliament, so that his coach 
 might not remain sticking in the holes. In the 
 time of the civil wars under the second Stuart, 
 800 dragoons were taken prisoners on their 
 horses, having stuck fast in the mud of the road. 
 Travelling, therefore, at that time, and until the 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 367 
 
 time of George I., was principally on horseback, 
 and carriages were used only on great occasions 
 in town or country, when neighbours made solemn 
 calls. 
 
 Coaches were then regarded as signs of great 
 wealth or great extravagance, however far re- 
 moved from the comforts of the present day. 
 They had, for example, no glass windows. These 
 were introduced from France, after the Eestoration 
 (1660), and the coaches were called " glass 
 coaches." Till then, the windows were only 
 closed in by linen curtains with French borders ; 
 and in a day-book kept by Sir Harry Slingsby, 
 one of the most loyal and unfortunate adherents 
 of the King in the time of the civil wars, the 
 diarist complains (1641) that these had been 
 stolen from him in a journey during the night, 
 and that for the rest of the way, since they were 
 fortunately in the neighbourhood of London, they 
 were obliged to fasten a pair of curtains with pins 
 before the windows. 
 
 Worse, however, than the coaches were the 
 roads; and a journey, however short, always re- 
 quired the most careful preparations. The mem- 
 bers of the then *' upper ten thousand " who went 
 to the dinner of some neighbouring nobleman 
 in their carriage, sent out people early in the 
 
368 • ENGLAND 
 
 morning to repair the deep tracks of former tra- 
 vellers. Then to render them distinguishable in 
 the night, they threw great heaps of lime on 
 the road, or laid down white casks in a double 
 row, between which — ^jnst as now in the road 
 from Schevening to the Hague, the trees by their 
 white appearance at night point out the approach 
 to the country houses — the intoxicated coachman 
 might steer back his master and family in com- 
 parative security to the haven of their home. 
 
 But such far-seeing preparations manifestly 
 could not be carried out on long journeys ; and 
 so it happened continually that coaches, adorned 
 with golden coronets, lined with velvet, and 
 drawn by six horses (the Sovereign alone dared 
 have eight !) in clear day, and on the open road, 
 remained sticking in the mud. Amusing in a 
 high degree are the accounts of the suiferings 
 which travellers of that olden time had to ex- 
 perience. Macaulay, in his unparalleled * History 
 of England,' gives us one of the most charming 
 pictures of the adventures of these first " martyrs 
 of the highways," how they were in the habit of 
 making half a mile in six hours ; how they con- 
 tinually lost their way ; how they sometimes ran 
 into danger of being carried off by streams that 
 had overflowed, or of being beaten by carriers 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 369 
 
 sticking in the mud like themselves, and how 
 in order to save their lives, they had to swim 
 through broad streams ; or if they wished to save 
 their coaches, were obliged to take them to pieces, 
 and carry them a great part of the way them- 
 selves. " On the best lines of communication," 
 says the great historian, " the ruts were deep, the 
 descents precipitous, and the way often, such as it 
 was, hardly possible to distinguish in the dusk 
 from the uninclosed heath and fen which lay on 
 both sides. . . . Often the mud lay deep on the 
 right and the left, and only a narrow track of 
 firm ground rose above the quagmire. It was 
 only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the 
 road was available for wheeled vehicles. But in 
 bad seasons the traveller had to encounter incon- 
 veniences and disasters which might suffice for a 
 journey to the Frozen Ocean or to the desert of 
 Sahara." 
 
 So the Commission sent by the Parliament, in 
 January 1646, to the King at Newcastle, as 
 appears in the memoirs of Sir Thomas Herbert, 
 one of the adherents of Charles I., who kept true 
 to the unfortunate monarch even to the scaffold, 
 took nine full days to accomplish a distance that 
 amounted to little more than thirty miles. 
 
 This difficulty frightened most from riding in 
 
370 ENGLAND 
 
 coaches. People used the saddle much more, and 
 rode " post," as it was called in that time. 
 
 Our friend Tom Jones, and his companion, the 
 schoolmaster Partridge, rode thus, when they 
 sought the '^lovely" Sophia; and she herself, 
 with Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who had left her husband, 
 together with Dame Honour, of rich eloquence, 
 rode from one inn in the kingdom to another on 
 saddle-horses. A universal shout of revolt went 
 through the British nation, when about the be- 
 ginning of the last century the improvement of 
 the roads began, and " post-chaises " came into 
 use. Some declared that the national courage 
 would be destroyed, if a man, who had been in the 
 habit of riding on horseback through the country, 
 and of maintaining at any time a struggle with a 
 highway robber, should now allow himself to sneak 
 along in coaches. " Th6 health of the public will 
 suffer^" cried the philanthropist, who could not 
 stomach the thought of seeing people shut up in 
 hot and dusty coaches, instead of breathing the 
 fresh air on a fiery steed. " Health and trade will 
 go to the ground," bewailed others. During the 
 old usage each journey needed a fresh suit. In 
 a coach, however, any one might journey for a 
 whole year without benefiting his tailor by 
 a penny. Saddlers, spur-makers, horse-dealers, 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 371 
 
 united in a petition to Parliament, that in its 
 wisdom it might bridle the velocity of such 
 " flaming meteors," whose unheard-of haste 
 threatened important trades with complete ruin, 
 and the art of riding with decay. 
 
 " Whither is the sun of England going ?" was 
 the almost universal cry ; but most angrily of all 
 wrangled the package carriers, who hitherto had 
 had nearly sole possession of the road, and who, 
 when the weather was especially bad, and they 
 were in especially good temper, allowed the foot- 
 passenger, overtaken by the rain, to creep into 
 the straw of their carts ; in which manner, for 
 example, Eoderick Random, and his trusty friend 
 Strap, travelled part of their way from Scotland 
 to London. " The way was made for their carts," 
 they cried, " and people of position had no right to 
 use it." Much more recently have we heard a 
 similar cry in Germany, where the States brought 
 a complaint before the Imperial Diet (1790) 
 " against the manifold injury " done through the 
 Post Office, by which the '^ old and hitherto well- 
 conducted city and country messenger delivery" 
 was destroyed. They entreated, therefore, the 
 Diet (Hausser, 'Hist, of Grermany,' i. 127) either 
 to put a stop to the " post-carriages, supported to 
 the greatest prejudice of the citizens," or else to 
 
372 ENGLAND 
 
 confine them to the simple transport of travellers 
 and their baggage. 
 
 But over the troubles of the German States, as of 
 the English tailors, saddlers, and carriers, the coach 
 and four rode triumphantly. On the highway, 
 which improved daily, it soon appeared, though at 
 first meanly equipped and at a very tardy pace, 
 stopping for the night at every inn where it 
 was allowed to do so, and spending a whole day 
 upon the road between places which may now be 
 reached, the one from the other, in an hour. 
 
 In the Bull Hotel at Cambridge, one of the most 
 noteworthy of the old inns which I have seen in 
 England, full of all kinds of curiosities, art relics, 
 old prints and engravings, I found under a glass 
 frame, in the entrance hall, close to the door, an 
 advertisement of the year 1706, in which the 
 coaches were advertised which were to travel from 
 London to Cambridge, and vice versa. These 
 " stage-coaches " travelled three times a-week, 
 and devoted four days to a distance which now 
 the railway would accomplish six times in five 
 hours daily. '* If God permits," adds the page, 
 in parenthesis, as we now see the great steamer 
 which goes to places over sea announce its 
 departure under the given condition, " Wind and 
 weather permitting." 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 373 
 
 But the better the road, the quicker the coaches ; 
 and the time soon came of the wonderful Brighton 
 'Age,' of the * Butterfly,' and of the * Highflyer,' 
 with thoroughbred tits, and coachmen with red 
 coats. How bright must the English highroads 
 have then appeared, with all their carts, coaches, 
 and carriages ! Now and then among them, at the 
 time when Parliament opened in London, might 
 be seen the venerable, broad, gilded vehicle, in 
 which my Lord and my Lady jolted to town. 
 In the carriage of the nobility the whole family 
 found room ; while on the back seat in the so- 
 called "boot" or "well," the page, chaplain, and 
 chambermaid, were seated. This Noah's ark was 
 drawn by six horses, and before it trotted the 
 runners, clad entirely in white, adorned with the 
 arms of their master's house, stitched in silver on 
 the left arm, and a long staff in their hands to 
 clear the road for my Lord's coach, of pack-carts 
 and other ignoble vehicles, just as they at an 
 earlier time had been used to set the " landship " 
 (as the first coach was called) afloat again, when it 
 had stuck in a bog. Without this class of servants 
 (which has now naturally died out, though the 
 long stick yet remains in the hands of the foot- 
 men) at the beginning of the eighteenth century 
 no great household was complete. Generally it 
 
374 ENGLAND 
 
 possessed about half-a-dozen of them. They ran 
 in front of, and beside the fat Flemish mares to 
 which the carriage was attached, and their speed 
 was so great that they always arrived in sufficient 
 time at the various inns, either to prepare the 
 dinner for the family, or to arrange for quarters. 
 They were light-footed, strong youths, chiefly 
 French or Irish, who regularly, and without 
 any especial effort, ran their five German miles 
 a day, " to the tune of the coachman's whip," and 
 to the accompaniment of his reproach. They 
 received when in service, so as not to overload 
 the stomach, nothing but barley-bread, ham, and 
 butter-milk. 
 
 Many noble people of that period allowed these 
 poor fellows to run in this manner from Scotland 
 to London, and what a " runner " could do on 
 ordinary occasions he could double if necessary, 
 z. e. he could accomplish ten German miles daily. 
 The household rode behind, armed because of 
 robbers ; and so, between his runners and his 
 armed servants, the British nobleman of the last 
 century arrived at London. • 
 
 The glory of the English highroads is certainly 
 gone, and the cry, " Hurrah for the road ! " will no 
 more be heard from any gentleman. Yet there 
 is nothing more enjoyable in the world, than such 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 375 
 
 an old-fashioned coach journey as one still has in 
 some districts of England, on a vehicle packed 
 outside and inside with trunks, travellers, and 
 dogs, with a variety of legs everywhere hanging 
 down, and a variety of figures which jump up in 
 the air, while the coachman in his red coat makes 
 his " Hiss ! Hiss ! " and the four gallop along, 
 till they steam again. Yes, the highway of Eng- 
 land still retains something of its former charm. 
 No moment passes but we meet a small cart, or 
 a merry wanderer, or a pretty shepherdess with 
 naked legs, in the midst of her herd of goats, or a 
 member of the noteworthy company of tramps, 
 known among ourselves by the name of Land- 
 streicher, who have made the highroads their 
 hunting district, sleeping under hedges, and roam- 
 ing over the kingdom at the expense of those 
 who are settled in it. These merry wanderers 
 have great resemblance to gipsies, mend kettles 
 with them, and are regarded by cooks and 
 bulldogs of the courtyard with not much more 
 favourable eyes. 
 
 But they would themselves reject with contempt 
 a comparison with these dark foreigners. They 
 pride themselves on being Britons, native-born 
 subjects of Her Majesty, and their life is, indeed, 
 one of the happiest which the world can ever 
 
376 ENGLAND 
 
 grant. The tramp has a good appetite, gratifies 
 it at the expense of other people, smokes his 
 pipe, and sniffs the clear morning air earlier and 
 fresher than any one else. It is true that he is 
 liable to rheumatism and cold if he lies on the 
 damp ground all night, but he is the last romantic 
 relic of the English highroad; and to see him creep 
 with his little ragged household, out of something 
 like a shepherd's cot, to station himself by the side 
 of a meadow-brook behind an inn, and under the 
 shelter of some high hedge, or at night lay himself 
 down by a fire in an open stubble-field, these are, 
 indeed, picturesque sights which one may some- 
 times enjoy by the side of the English highroads. 
 
 The vehicle — alike waggon and dweUing^ — in 
 which these nomadic kettle-menders pack together, 
 wife and children, kitchen and cellar, reminds the 
 traveller of their common descent from Geiman 
 forefathers, who, some thousand years ago, passed 
 in similar house-vans the classical morass which 
 Tacitus describes. 
 
 But this is a reminiscence which lies pretty far 
 from us all, especially the Englishman. Nearer to 
 them lies that other reminiscence of the *' coaching 
 days of old England," when people said, '*at every 
 inn which God has given us we will stop and 
 have a drink." The present generation clings yet 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. ^11 
 
 to tlais fundamental rule, and particularly the 
 Eeverend in front, by the side of the coachman, 
 was never weary of shaking the hands of the stout 
 landladies who appeared at the door, and stroking 
 the cheeks of their sprightly daughters who served 
 him, tasting it beforehand, with his " bitter ale." 
 He seemed to know every inn on the way, every 
 Hebe of the highroad, and emptied his pewter 
 at every station without appearing to suffer the 
 least harm from it, except that, at the end of our 
 journey, the ostler gave him his honest right 
 hand, supported on which he, by means of a 
 ladder, descended from the roof of the coach. 
 
 This was at Ambleside, after a two hours' 
 journey, which I regard as one of the most en- 
 joyable I can remember. As in a great pano- 
 rama, mountain prospects, houses, gardens, and 
 clear streams of water, had constantly varied ; 
 and it was a pleasure only to see the general pros- 
 perity, the wealth of the landscape, the comfort of 
 the villages, and the glad countenances of the 
 people. 
 
 Yet more. In these two hours I had travelled 
 in the spirit over two hundred years; had seen 
 the changing shapes of the highroad during that 
 long period, and had allowed all its horrors, as 
 well as all its cheerful follies to pass in review 
 
 2 c 
 
378 ENGLAND FROM GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 
 
 before me, all its splendour and all its Iiappy 
 cheerfulness, and only first awoke to the life of 
 the present, when under the last of the trees along 
 the Ambleside road, the majesty of the Lake of 
 Windermere shimmered out under the glorious 
 sunlight of an autumn afternoon. Here I took 
 my farewell of highwaymen and gentlemen- 
 coachmen, to steer towards new objects in a 
 pleasant little steamboat. 
 
AUTUMN ON THE ENGLISH LAKES. 
 
 (1862.) 
 
 ct ha3c olim meminisse juvabit. — JEn. i. 203.' 
 
 2 2 
 
I. 
 
 FUENESS ABBEY. 
 
 Besides including the north-west border of Eng- 
 land, the " Lake district " surrounds part of the 
 counties of Lancaster, "Westmoreland, Cumberland, 
 and reaches to the forerunners of the mountains 
 of Scotland, and that " border land " upon which 
 (highly celebrated in the old songs of both peoples) 
 was decided the most bloody and romantic of all 
 combats between Scotch and English. The earth 
 around is rich with warlike traces of the past ; the 
 last remains of the Roman stations, overgrown 
 with nettles and holly-trees, as well as the 
 numerous castles that partly lie in ruins, and 
 are partly inhabited by the later descendants of 
 their first builder, give information of that wild 
 spirit of feud which here raged for more than a 
 thousand years, and which first emerges in history 
 connected with the dark name of the Picts, and 
 outlasting the days of intestine slaughter, the 
 Wars of the White and Red Roses, first found its 
 end in that Statute which bound both kingdoms 
 in one name and one Parliament. 
 
382 ENGLAND 
 
 But apart from this scene of uninterrupted 
 quarrel, Nature has secured all that she possesses 
 of beautiful, lovely, and peaceful, in a circuit of 
 mountains which with blue, soft contours, enclose 
 a neighbourhood plentifully adorned with all the 
 charms of a landscape, with forest and meadow, 
 with hills and slopes, above all, with that which is 
 the soul of the landscape, and which lends to it 
 its spiritual expression ; with water, with lakes ! 
 This is the land of the Lakes — a holy relic of 
 English olden time, of which the remembrance is 
 here united with the remains of Celtic Druidism 
 in so many still valleys — a holy relic of English 
 poetry which is dedicated to the remembrance of 
 Coleridge, which conceals the grave of Words- 
 worth, and in the name of " The Lake School " has 
 received an imperishable memorial in the history 
 of English literature. 
 
 It maybe said that the "old romantic land" 
 begins with Lancaster, an hour (by the railroad) 
 from Preston, the cotton town, and two from 
 Liverpool, the town of ships and of universal com- 
 merce. Here, in Lancaster, stands an old weather- 
 grey castle, with old weather-grey towers ; one of 
 which was built by the Emperor Adrian of Eome 
 in the year 122, and another more than a 
 thousand years later by the knightly Plantagenet, 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 383 
 
 Edward III. Years ago I stood once, on a mild 
 autumn afternoon, upon tlie highest of these 
 towers, my eyes fixed on the extensive view 
 around ; of the town itself, which with its grey lead 
 roofs, in the form of a terrace, stretches up to the 
 mountain ; of field and forest, green in the blue 
 autumn air ; of the stream which peacefully mean- 
 ders through the plain ; of the Irish Channel, with 
 its slowly travelling sails and masts ; and of the 
 Westmoreland hills, behind which the Lakes lie. 
 My look followed a column of smoke which 
 streamed thin through the blue autumn atmo- 
 sphere — it was the railway which goes to these 
 Lakes and to Scotland — and a sensation seized 
 upon me similar to that which the poet describes, 
 " seeking the land of the Greeks with the soul." 
 
 Of this autumn afternoon I thought when I, four 
 years later, passed by the same castle and under the 
 same tower. It was, as the former, an autumn 
 afternoon, but fuller, more sunny, after a series of 
 heavy dull days, and my soul was also riper and 
 fuller, seized by the joy of again being free. 
 From a short wandering through the English weav- 
 ing districts, at that time heavily oppressed, I had 
 taken a sorrowful impression of heavy weight and 
 icy coldness. I cannot reflect without pain upon 
 those pictures of human misery which I saw there, 
 
384 ENGLAND 
 
 and they mingle themselves in my memory with 
 the fog, tough and yellow, with the rain and the 
 wind, which, sharp and cutting, floated upwards 
 from the neighbouring sea, and made those days 
 the gloomiest I ever passed in England. 
 
 But here, by Lancaster, where the roads divide 
 themselves, the sun returned. It gilded with its 
 late beams the tower upon which I had stood 
 before, and the surface of green and blue, which 
 I knew so well. An indescribable feeling of a new 
 pleasure in life was awakened by this glimmer of 
 departing day, which sparkled upon the green 
 grass and stalks yet wet with great raindrops, 
 which at times, glittering like diamonds, fell to 
 earth. I had never seen the sun set so warm 
 in colour, and so full of promise for a long time, 
 as on that evening over the shore and water of 
 Morecambe Bay. Morecambe Bay is a deep inlet 
 broken by the Irish Sea in the coasts of Lancaster 
 and Westmoreland. A broad girdle of sand, glit- 
 tering like silver against the dark blue of the 
 water, which now waved in the rosy golden tints 
 of evening, spans this bay, and close to its edge 
 lie the rails of the railway. There is nothing 
 so sublime to the soul and eye as the aspect of the 
 sea in such moments of solemnity, when over it 
 shines poured out another sea of light and colour, 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 385 
 
 of glow and glory. Then it has something of that 
 glitter and fabulous enchantment which transports 
 the imagination of man, and shows it in the great 
 purple clouds pictures of fantastic mountains and 
 palaces, as if the sunken islands emerged for a 
 moment from out of the depth of the sea. Now 
 the sun stands like a fiery ball upon the shud- 
 dering edge of the water. Now a vapour flies 
 over it — as when one breathes upon a polished 
 mirror — its pure beauty is troubled, the fire is 
 extinguished, the red melts into grey, clouds 
 ascend, the sea is cold, the enchantment is at an 
 end, the sun is gone. It is dark, and we travel 
 through an unknown land, for twilight and night 
 are scarcely separable over the water. 
 
 Such travel in a dark unknown land gives some 
 extraordinary foreboding to the soul, one knows 
 not where it will end and whither it will lead. 
 In the midst of the monotony of the rattling 
 railway it still preserves to us something of 
 the good old sort, when travelling was still in 
 itself a delight, where not only the eyes but the 
 mind was busy. Scarcely had the dast sunbeam 
 died away, when out of the mountain-passes the 
 evening lights flashed forth, as will-o'-the-wisps 
 out of the mountain clefts. Soon there was a 
 hollow roll and smoke to the left, — the sea, soon 
 
386 ENGLAND 
 
 a low whispering and waving to the right, — the 
 forest, whir;h at times extends even close to the far 
 flat bank, at times climbs high above the steep 
 surrounding rocks. 
 
 At last the train stopped, and we were in the 
 Abbey, or rather at the station which takes its 
 name from it, Furness Abbey. But both are wall 
 to wall, and under one roof. What a wonder- 
 ful piece of romance is that which introduces 
 us by railway into the midst of an old abbey ! 
 But so it is. Here, where the train stops, sur- 
 rounded by hedges of autumn roses and ivy- 
 clad ruins, still stands the old Manor House, in 
 which 700 years ago the Abbot of Furness resided. 
 The cloister and the church are fallen to pieces, 
 but in this manor house the present has made 
 itself again a habitation ; and famed, as formerly 
 for the holiness of its monks, is now this valley 
 for the comforts of its hotel and the picturesque 
 grandeur of its ruins — the " Valley of the Deadly 
 Nightshade," so named after a plant which 
 formerly bloomed here in abundance^ and may 
 yet be seen in the broken seal of the old Abbey. 
 
 It was, till a short time back, the custom with us 
 to hold England as the land of prose, and it seldom 
 occurred to any one to travel there except for 
 business. And yet England is not only one of the 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 387 
 
 fairest, but also one of the most poetical lands, rich 
 in lovely landscapes as in mighty wild moor and 
 forest scenery. Nowhere in such a narrow space 
 are so many objects united, nowhere such a variety 
 is offered to the view. Out of one town, black 
 with the smoke of manufactories, we pass into 
 another of silent mediaeval appearance, with gables 
 and venerable cathedral. The sea which unites 
 two worlds breaks on its coasts, and gathers 
 in its roomy havens the fleets of all nations. 
 Baronial halls surrounded by wide deer-forests, 
 and ducal castles overgrown with ivy, rise in its 
 interior. On the slopes of its mountains pasture 
 the fat flock, and on the flat plain the well-to-do 
 farmer prepares the fruitful soil. As through a 
 carefully-tended garden we pass through all Eng- 
 land, and the traveller participates in the feeling 
 of prosperity which everywhere reigns. He par- 
 ticipates in the blessing, the smiling grace and 
 contentment spread around him, and finds in the 
 smallest wayside inn some portion, however minute, 
 of that comfort which the Englishman thinks 
 necessary for life's enjoyment ; and even in that 
 most decried race of mortals, waiters, some of 
 that stiff demeanour and measured dignity which 
 in a higher class characterise the " gentleman." 
 Such an honest man, with white necktie and 
 
388 ENGLAND 
 
 black coat, received me as I alighted, and not with- 
 out an inner fight against my native German awe 
 of such articles of attire, I allowed him to possess 
 himself of my travelling effects, and followed him 
 through an open hall, around which were the 
 whispers of late roses and verbenas, up the stone 
 steps of the old residence of the Abbot of Furness. 
 At once, as by a touch of magic, I was set in 
 the midst of mediaeval romance — not of that kind 
 which we are wont to wonder at in museums and 
 scientific galleries — no, it lived around me, and I 
 lived in it. Yesterday in sad, misty Liverpool, 
 but to-day in the poverty of the distressed weaver- 
 districts of Preston, and now in the lovely peace 
 and delicious repose of the "Nightshade Yalley 1" 
 What a name ! But nothing tore the pilgrim from 
 this strange illusion. I stood in a high hall, 
 roofed with embrowned rafters. On both sides 
 cross-ways opened themselves, with those pointed 
 bay-windows and massive pillars known to me so 
 well from that old cloister school in which I passed 
 my youth. All, to the smallest detail, was in the 
 style of that long dead past; the windows, the 
 carved wood-work, the staircases and floors, 
 the chairs, the house furniture, even the lamps, 
 candelabra, and chandeliers, w^hich, though lighted 
 with gas, were yet very old-fashioned, and made 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 389 
 
 of brass. A large, lean greyhound was the second 
 to greet me, after the man in coat and cravat. He 
 came stalking from the staircase when I entered, 
 laid his beautiful head confidentially on my knee, 
 and looked up at me tenderly with his brown eyes, 
 just as was the way in old times, when the dogs 
 failed not to be present at the solemn welcome of 
 the stranger in the abode of knight or priest. 
 
 A sweet smell from the autumn flowers, stocks 
 and mignonette, was wafted towards me, without 
 from the beds of the verandah, within in the hall 
 from the lofty nosegays, and mixed with many 
 other perfumes not unlike the strong smell of in- 
 cense, gave new nourishment to the conceit of a 
 cloister. 
 
 But this illusion happily now proceeded no 
 farther. For out of the '*culina," or "kitchen" 
 in the speech of the modern host, appeared some 
 very pretty girls, whose cloisterlike habit consisted 
 of a clean, snow-white kitchen apron, and from the 
 " refectorium," alias " dining-room," came some 
 young ladies, no less lovely, who, however, had 
 broken conventual regulations so far as to lean on 
 the arms of young gentlemen, and vanished with 
 them through the door into the garden. One of 
 the very loveliest nuns took a brass candlestick 
 out of the kitchen, ornamented with ever so many 
 
390 ENGLAND 
 
 wonderful flourishes and caricatures, and led me 
 up all kinds of staircases and through all kinds of 
 galleries, which were covered with heavy green 
 and red plush carpets, into a cosy little room, with 
 a small pointed bay-window, of which the panes 
 were set in lead, and through which the wild vine 
 from without climbed in. The trees and the water- 
 fall rustled, the stars twinkled in the sky, but 
 I gave only one glance into this glimmer, tingling 
 and whispering, only drew one breath. Then I 
 turned around — but my little nun had vanished. 
 
 As well as I could, I sought to follow in her 
 steps ; but it was not easy to find one's way aright 
 in this labyrinth of nooks and corners, of steps 
 and little steps. Not her, but the entrance I 
 found again, and came into the garden, which, 
 by the side of a splashing brook, led to the ruins. 
 There they stood in the gloom of the night, 
 huge, venerable, a little awful, as if at any mo- 
 ment a ghost might step forth out of them. But 
 all was still. Only two brooks prattled; the one 
 briskly splashing, the other, somewhat farther off, 
 dull, mysterious, as the voice of a time long past, 
 and become unintelligible. 
 
 Upon the turf, under the verandah and behind 
 the cloister- wall, in the broad, shadowy walks 
 of high dark chestnuts, it was much livelier. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 391 
 
 Here walked and tittered many a gay pair. 
 There was much wandering in dark, remote 
 paths; here many women's dresses rustled over 
 the turf; and there in the background before the 
 door, glimmered once more the white aprons of 
 the nuns .... Suddenly rose the moon over the 
 dark forest-mountain, clear, light, all silver; a 
 wonderful contrast to the golden comet by its 
 side, to the dark blue wood opposite. What a 
 scene was that ! The whole garden bathed in 
 light ; the trees, the bushes, spreading broad deep 
 shadows ; and in the background, as very ghosts, 
 the high, open bays of the windows and portals 
 through which the moonlight streamed. Nature's 
 voice, with all her sweet welcome tones, spoke 
 here continually to the heart of man ; and into a 
 late hour of the night I sat listening to the 
 whispering, rustling, and dropping of the wind 
 and shrubbery and water which surrounded this 
 solitude. 
 
 Suddenly I heard, as it were, another note in 
 the magic monotone. I roused myself, and went 
 again to the ruins, which now appeared silver- 
 white, surrounded by large, thick masses of 
 shadow, under the moon. Once more came over 
 me that anxious feeling, as if an unknown some- 
 thing was about to step forth out of the ruins, and 
 
392 ENGLAND 
 
 this time I was not mistaken. It was but a song, 
 yet a sweet song, and sung by the soft voice of a 
 young girl. As I listened I beard tbe Scottish 
 ballad, ' Corn-rigs are bonnie, oh ! ' — lively and 
 clearly it reached me out of the midst of those 
 awful ruins : — 
 
 " It was upon a Lammas night 
 
 When corn rigs are bonnie, oh ! 
 Beneath the moon's unclouded light 
 
 I held awa' to Annie, oh ! 
 The time flew by wi' tentless heed, 
 
 Til 'tween the late and early ; 
 Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed 
 
 To see me through the barley." 
 
 Slowly the melody died away, in the manner 
 peculiar to Scottish ballads, but only to be again 
 taken up by a strong manly voice : — 
 
 " I hae been blithe wi' comrades dear ; 
 I hae been merry drinkin ' ; 
 I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear ; 
 
 I hae been happy thinkin' : 
 But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, 
 
 Though three times doubled fairly, 
 That happy night was worth them a', 
 Amang the rigs o' barley." 
 
 Then the two voices joined pleasantly in the 
 chorus : — 
 
FBOM A GEEMAN POINT OF VIEW. 393 
 
 " Corn rigs an' barley rigs, 
 
 An' corn rigs are bonnie, oh ! 
 I'll ne'er forget that happy night, 
 Amang the rigs wi' Annie, oh ! " 
 
 The verse was not yet ended, when there was a 
 rustling in the ruins, and a figure came forth in 
 bright, light raiment — the figure of a woman, slim, 
 elegant, delicate, and pretty, as the moon which, 
 now full, irradiated her face, showed me. 
 
 She did not see me. Coquettishly she fastened 
 her garments together, and turning to the tower, 
 cried, " Harry, now I shall run away." But before 
 she could carry out her threat, " Harry " appeared 
 upon the lowest step of the tower, embraced her, 
 held her fast, and said joyfully, " Now try it, 
 Jessie ; " and then kissed her heartily. 
 
 Willingly would I have remained in obscurity, 
 but they had now observed me. "I beg your 
 pardon," said I, whilst I made room for them. 
 Jessie appeared much disturbed, and cried, " For 
 God's sake ! " But Harry comforted her and me 
 with a " never mind ;" and was even so amiable 
 as to beg a light from me for his little pipe. 
 My burning cigar might well have betrayed me 
 to them. 
 
 Then we returned together, and on the way 
 Harry related to me that they were a newly- 
 
 2 D 
 
394 ENGLAND 
 
 married pair, and were here at the Lake spend- 
 ing their " honeymoon " (at which word Jessie 
 tittered). For the rest, they were two handsome 
 young people, and appeared to have a good deal 
 of love for one another. 
 
 In the Manor House all was now quiet. The 
 only one still to be seen was my friend, the 
 greyhound in the hall,' who licked the hands of 
 both the young married people, and ran after 
 them to the door of their chamber, whereat he 
 turned back, and looked after me as I withdrew, 
 in order to seek my own. Moonshine and shadows 
 of the wild vine danced upon the wall as I opened 
 the door — and what a clear, lovely morning, when 
 I awoke to the next day ! All was bathed in 
 golden sunshine, the turf sparkled, over the trees 
 lay the coloured glow of autumn, and high above 
 in the warm blue heaven still stood the pale 
 crescent moon. Before me, surrounded by green, 
 rising earnest and holy out of the emerald carpet 
 of turf, stood the ruins of the Abbey ; wonderfully 
 sublime ruins, so wide, so spacious, everywhere 
 fallen to pieces, and yet everywhere so magnifi- 
 cent ! Here for the first time, in this lovely light, 
 clearly enlivened by the background of the blue 
 heavens and the foreground of green turf, I sur- 
 veyed them in their real connection. Imagination 
 
FBOM A GEEMAN POINT OF VIEW. 395 
 
 easily supplies the missing parts, and peoples the 
 stately building with forms of past time. The little 
 brook sings its song, and the ever-moving trees 
 and bushes join in, rustling as the sound of the 
 organ and the choristers. What a song was it 
 which I here heard ! How it murmured to me in 
 the holy, sunny stillness of the morning ! I sat at 
 my little arched window surrounded with wild 
 vine, and looked through the leaden casement. 
 Nothing but this song of the brook and the trees, 
 — the hum of the insects, — the trilling of the 
 lark, — the far-off sound of an axe in the forest, — 
 the whetting of a scythe in the meadow ; — and 
 anon a hollow noise, and rolling from afar, coming 
 continually nearer, and now, with a cloud of smoke, 
 breaking forth in a long row out of the green 
 hill and puffing past — the railway with its coal- 
 waggons, which run through the midst of this 
 territory, the once consecrated ground of the old 
 Abbey ! Already all is again still — the new time 
 is over ; the old time, with its sun and its dreams, 
 rises again, and stands alone before the devout 
 soul. 
 
 This is the threshold to the district of the 
 English Lakes. Here where I now sit, once sat 
 the Abbot of Furness, and the noble lords of 
 Preston followed him in the Manor House. Half- 
 
 2 D 2 
 
396 ENGLAND 
 
 monkisli, still half-kniglitly, is everything in it — 
 the gay, glass windows, the high roofed halls, 
 the stately fireplaces .... But I look dreaming 
 into the forest and the sky, and the little brook 
 from below murmurs and whispers .... 
 
 When later I went into the breakfast-room, I 
 had the pleasure of seeing all the young lovers 
 and married couples (for in the first stage of mar- 
 riage both seem to be the same) who yesterday 
 wandered through the gardens in the moonshine, 
 assembled at little tables, at which they fed with 
 uncommonly good appetites. Here I found again 
 ''Harry and Jessie from the ruins." They sat at 
 a table under the great garden window, half in 
 shadow of the shaking leaves, half in the small 
 streams of sunny light which stole through the 
 leafy branches. They had taken good care to 
 have their table well provided with all the good 
 things of a " substantial " English breakfast, and 
 invited me to partake. After the meal was 
 finished, Harry filled his little wooden pipe. 
 Jessie put on her great straw hat, took a beauti- 
 fully-bound copy of Moore's 'Loves of the Angels' 
 under her arm, and so they withdrew with a 
 cheerful greeting, clomb the hill behind the ruins, 
 and disappeared under the forest. 
 
 But my friend, the greyhound, associated with 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 397 
 
 me. Even he, however, left me in disgust on the 
 turf before the Abbey, when I was for going 
 farther ; for he was spoilt by the peace of this 
 monastic abode, and no friend to fatiguing walks, 
 and so stretching himself close to a bank under 
 a rose-bush at his ease in the warm autumn sun- 
 shine, he let -me go my ways alone. 
 
 " Qu8erite primum regnum Dei." These words, 
 which I read on an old stone over the staircase as 
 I left the coffee-room, had deeply impressed them- 
 selves on my memory ; and therefore I went into 
 the ruins in order " first to seek the kingdom of 
 Grod." Oh ! how still the courts were ! How the 
 rustling wind preached, whispering through the 
 cloisters, the nothingness of all earthly things — 
 all without exception, worldly as well as spiritual, 
 love as well as its renunciation! — the familiar 
 rooms full of silent happiness^ the high vaulted 
 roofs full of fervent devotion ! See, here once 
 stood a lordly cloister, with proud portals, strong 
 pillars, and high towers. It was founded in the 
 year 1127, under the patronage of Stephen, Earl 
 of Montaigne and Boulogne, afterwards King of 
 England, by the monks of the convent of Savigny, 
 in Normandy, who had come to England under 
 the guidance of Evan, their first abbot. Three 
 years and three days they stayed in Tulkett, near 
 
398 ENGLAND 
 
 Preston, before they settled in Nightshade Yalley, 
 and founded this cloister, which they dedicated to 
 the Yirgin Mary. Here, in deepest desolation, 
 had monks prayed for hundreds of years. On 
 their seal they bore the image of their Saint. 
 There is the Virgin under a starry canopy, — on 
 her left arm a baby, — about whose head is a halo 
 woven, and in her right hand she holds a ball, as 
 Queen of the World. On both sides is a coat-of- 
 arms, with the three Norman leopards, above them 
 a branch of nightshade, beneath a monk in the 
 full habit of his order. The flying dragon was 
 assumed in honour of the second Earl of Lancaster, 
 the relation of the royal Plantagenet, encircling all 
 were the words — 
 
 SIGILLUM . COMMUNE . DOMUS . BEATE . MARIE . DE . FUENESIO. 
 
 To what a distant time is the imagination 
 brought back by this seal ! Yet with all which it 
 possessed for us holy, affecting, and honourable, 
 it was broken in pieces as the walls of the cloister 
 itself, when in the sixteenth century Henry YIH. 
 of England left the creed of Eome, and con- 
 fiscated all monastical possessions. Since that 
 time the old glory is turned to dust ; only these 
 ruins are here to tell the sad history of its fall. 
 
 Through the fair indented windows pours in by 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 399 
 
 turns sunshine and rain, — the lofty pillars stand- 
 ing erect on the turf cast their lonely shadows over 
 desolate halls and walls ; buttresses and pointed 
 arches lie around in ruin. The artistic work of 
 stonemasons_, long dust, lies in pieces in the grass ; 
 two heads look down from the chief entrance, the 
 heads of King Stephen and his wife, the friends of 
 the Abbey while they lived. But kingly favour, 
 like all else, passes away. Even monarchs must 
 turn to dust and ashes, and only of a very few will 
 posterity preserve the names. What mean these 
 upright figures without heads, but with folded 
 hands holding a breviary? What signify these 
 stone pilgrims lying flat upon the ground ? What 
 these gravestones with the crook on the burst slab, 
 these illegible inscriptions, these crosses fallen 
 asunder ? They show us the striving of a past 
 period to preserve their recollection in that to 
 come; they show us how they strove in vain, 
 when their names were not written elsewhere than 
 on slabs of stone. 
 
 Nature herself destroys these names with in- 
 exorable finger. She sows her green seed in all 
 joints and clefts; she clambers over the highest 
 towers, and leaves her green scaling-ladders 
 waving in the air; she covers the churchyard 
 with her growing green ; she buries one genera- 
 
400 ENGLAND 
 
 tion after another ; but her smile and her beauty 
 belong to all. 
 
 A sharp whistle rang through the stillness. 
 The enchanted kingdom disappeared, the loco- 
 motive was hissing by. It was the train for 
 the Lakes. It waked the pair sunk in the 
 wood there above in the ' Love of the Angels.' 
 Hastily they passed me with a short farewell : 
 they were off to the Lakes in this very train. 
 A second whistle a little later, told me that Harry 
 and Jessie had left Nightshade Valley. For 
 awhile echoed the hollow roar of the departing 
 train amidst the ruins, and then the former still- 
 ness returned. Softly above me waved the leaves 
 of the ivy, low out of the distance whispered the 
 water under the old bridge covered with foliage, 
 and nothing more interrupted my meditation and 
 my dream. 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 401 
 
 II. 
 
 THE LAKES OF WESTMOEELAND. 
 
 The Lake of Windermere is the most comprehen- 
 sive and varied of the Westmoreland Lakes. It 
 is the " diamond of the Lake district/' and the 
 " Queen of the Lakes." Its length from Amble- 
 side to Newby Bridge is some eleven English 
 miles, its breadth one. It is deeper than the other 
 lakes, and numerous islands, luxuriantly wooded, 
 lend its shape the appearance of a greater variety. 
 The characteristic of its landscape scenery is a 
 tender and graceful beauty. It has nothing of 
 the savage grandeur of the neighbouring lakes of 
 Cumberland, which in this respect almost vie with 
 those of Scotland ; and here only, at Ambleside, 
 the mountains attain a reasonable height, whilst 
 on the other parts of the coast they are but gently- 
 swelling hills, on whose tender line the eye wil- 
 lingly hangs. A surprising view is it where the 
 road from Ambleside opens on the lake. In the 
 foreground, the varied staff age of coaches^ boats 
 and steamers, with men embarking and disem- 
 barking ; in the background, the mountains, whose 
 
402 EJ^ GLAND 
 
 unparalleled magnificence suddenly discloses itself, 
 and between these the lake, so still in the sunset ! 
 "We go aboard the steamer, ' The Fairy Queen,' 
 which is just departing, whilst the other, ' The 
 Firefly,' arrives. The golden water is our cradle. 
 In the background are the mountains with their 
 tops one above another in tender aerial contours, 
 with the colours and shapes of light vaporous 
 clouds, at last disappearing, and surrounded by a 
 tender mist, melting into the distance, so that the 
 eye almost loses the distinction between earth and 
 air. All dissolves into a blue vapour, in which 
 we recognise fanciful and soft figures, of which 
 it scarcely can be told whether they be those 
 of mountain or of cloud. Around us glows the 
 water, in whose dark depths are mirrored in the 
 late sunset all the colours of the cloud-mountains, 
 the mountain-clouds of heaven, which with all its 
 azure, with each of its rosy cloudlets, arches itself 
 below the wave. Here and there is one of the 
 blooming islands of the lake, like a flower-pot 
 of porphyry, filled with thick, gold-green, luxu- 
 riant underwood, which spreads a shine of the 
 same hue in the water around. A dream- voice 
 overpowers the soul — and yet it is not too weary 
 to turn back to the presence of life which is here 
 so indescribably beautiful — to the meadows lying 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 403 
 
 in the mist of the sunshine, to the woods, which 
 seem blue in the purple shadows of the afternoon, 
 and to the white houses on the shore, the " villas " 
 and *' cottages " which, lightened by the red gleam 
 of fuchsias, offer pictures of peace and domestic 
 happiness, almost more lovely in their reality than 
 in dream. Oh, to dwell in these houses around 
 which flowers bloom, and the lake whispers, under 
 the mountains, on the meadows — and here in 
 entire seclusion to devote one's life to contempla- 
 tion and the monitor within ! Here have poets 
 lived — poets whose names the English people 
 mention with pride and love. Here by this lake, 
 and under these hills, was Wordsworth born ; here 
 Southey settled and Coleridge sang ; here was the 
 home of the Lake School named after the lakes, on 
 one of which we now gaze, and which blossomed 
 alone, undisturbed by the travelling swarm, till 
 the end of the last century. 
 
 Eich in the remembrances of these is the sur- 
 rounding scenery, and celebrated through their 
 poetry is each wood, each mountain, each brook, 
 each lake. It is impossible to walk in this neigh- 
 bourhood without thinking of them, without being 
 reminded of them and their famous circle of friends, 
 in which one of the most interesting men was 
 De Quincey, the opium-eater. Yes ; something like 
 
404 ENGLAND 
 
 an opiate seems to be in the air and the beauty of 
 this Lake district ; something like a gradual dissolu- 
 tion, a pleasant soporific, a dreamy captivity. Such 
 a character is peculiar to the Lake School. Most of 
 their great poems have the formlessness, at times 
 the disconnection of dreams — of dreams, more- 
 over, of an uneasy sleep, an opium drunkenness 
 (Coleridge died from opium-drinking) ; but they 
 have also the fanciful boldness of these, and their 
 entire scorn of earthly limits, of possibilities which 
 lie in time and space. We can scarcely call 
 them spiritualists, for they have much more of a 
 strong, if not exactly healthy sensitiveness ; but 
 '* their kingdom lies in cloud-land, and their world 
 is only too often a visionary world ;" says Freili- 
 grath, our Grerman poet, who translated some of 
 their most important poems, and published those 
 of Coleridge in the " Tauchnitz edition." I can 
 imagine how those indistinct fancies of far un- 
 known lands and seas attracted our poet — him 
 who dreamed of the wonders of the Tropic Zone, 
 of the mirage of the desert. But he dreamed of 
 the actual, the lion with his claws in the Griraffe's 
 back, the tiger fighting with the white man ; 
 whilst their dreams are phantasmagorias, which 
 float like Coleridge's phantom ship over reality. It 
 is true this entire neorlect of that which we consider 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 405 
 
 definite order makes sometimes a childish, but 
 still more often it makes a gigantic impression, 
 as if the whole despair of genius was struggling 
 against boundaries which no power is in a con- 
 dition to destroy. One immediately feels a certain 
 relationship with the Sturm und Drang -Periode, 
 or dawn of German classic literature, in which 
 Goethe wrote his ' Werther s Leiden,' and soon 
 after, Schiller his ' Eobbers ; ' only with this differ- 
 ence, that one strove after earth, and reached it 
 in fact, with firm feet ; while the other, the Lake 
 School, strove after heaven, and remain fixed in 
 the clouds. Yet is it these who freed English 
 poetry from the fetters of a formalism of style 
 and matter inherited from Pope and Dryden, and 
 prepared the way for the appearance of the great 
 romancists, Byron and Scott. 
 
 But we Germans must not forget that it was 
 our own poetry and philosophy on which those 
 poets leaned ; that they formed their ideas in 
 Germany, and were instructed under the influence 
 of German doctrine and teachers. Their two heads, 
 Wordsworth and Coleridge, came to Germany in 
 1798 to study the German language, German 
 poetry, German philosophy, and German theology; 
 to visit the singer of the Messiah, and to hear from 
 him that Burger was a true poet, who would live. 
 
406 ENGLAND 
 
 and Scliiller^ on the contrary, would be soon 
 forgotten. Nevertheless, two years after, in 1800, 
 appeared Coleridge's translation of Schiller. 
 Would Goethe's introduction into England by 
 Carlyle have been possible, had it not been pre- 
 ceded by the Lake School? This it was that, 
 through the philosophy of Kant, Fichte, and Schel- 
 ling, threw the yeast of the present movement into 
 the clammy theology of England and America ; 
 and to this, above all, are we indebted for that 
 mighty exchange of ideas and movements, which 
 now — profiting both shores — " streams to and fro 
 over the German Ocean." 
 
 In the meantime we have reached Bowness, and 
 our little bark lies at anchor. Bowness is on the 
 left bank of the lake, nearly in the middle of its 
 whole extent. It is quite a charming little spot, 
 — half village half town, like most in this neigh- 
 bourhood. Here lies a little heap of houses to- 
 gether on a hill, like Swiss chalets ; there are two 
 more with wooden carved-work, and all kinds 
 of creeping plants by the waterside. Streets 
 properly there are none, every path leads to 
 the lake below, or from the lake above. 
 
 From Bowness extends a pretty mountain path, 
 between wood and country seats, to the little 
 village of Windermere, and to a stately hotel 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 407 
 
 with broad terrace, from which we enjoy a truly 
 charming prospect over the lake and its banks. 
 There, immediately under the terrace, wholly 
 covered with flowers and trees, ends the railway 
 from London ; and in this secluded idyl of sea and 
 hill, where one lives as in another world, every 
 afternoon letters, newspapers, magazines, and 
 books, come fresh from town, with a convenience 
 only perhaps possible in England. 
 
 Best was it up here in the forenoon after break- 
 fast. Out on the terrace sat, perhaps, some gentle- 
 men, and read the ' Times,' or enjoyed a walk under 
 the verandah, smoking a cigar. Then one con- 
 veyance after another drove off; the large house 
 on the hill-top was empty, the terrace still, and I 
 remained alone with the sun and the laurel-hedges. 
 Over these shining hedges, through whispering 
 tree-tops, over glimmering roofs of the village 
 and soft hills, the glance travelled away to the 
 dreaming lake, and the vapoury purplish blue of 
 its woody bank. 
 
 Sweet was it then to wander down the path to 
 the hill-side under the majestic vaulted chestnut- 
 trees. It was quiet as on a Sabbath, as if Nature was 
 here occupied for ever in prayer ; only now and 
 then came a solitary conveyance, or a dog barked, 
 or a bell rang through the air. So still was it that 
 
408 ■ ENGLAND 
 
 one could distinguish the trembHng and whispering 
 of each leaf, the light sighing of the wind, and 
 every voice in the chorus of the birds. Still 
 houses with shadowy gardens, in which to live 
 itself must be a happiness, lay at my side ; dark 
 groups of trees, varied with green meadows and 
 vapoury wood-paths, which led deeper into the 
 mountain ; and over all through the leaves 
 trembling in the sun, I caught a glimpse of blue 
 water or blue sky. Such an indescribable peace, 
 such a holy calm, was around ! And my heart is 
 full of a sentiment like home-sickness when I think 
 on those days so fair and golden, so sunny and so 
 silent. Then and there, when I sat myself down 
 by that English lake, on one of the mossy stones 
 under the thick chestnuts, in the balmy air of the 
 morning, I had a feeling as if life had no purer 
 joy to oiFer than such a moment of blessed in- 
 toxication and absorption in nature. Then speaks 
 the spirit in us with that spirit which blows in 
 the bloom, and whispers in the whisper of the 
 wind. It feels itself one with that spirit in pure 
 harmony, and the soul begins to speak in its own 
 language with every leaf that stirs. The gloomy 
 veil which the impure alloy of day breathed over 
 its mirror passes away, and clear again therein 
 shines the sunny picture of the outer world, with 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 409 
 
 all its outlines, its vapoury colours, and its quiet 
 life. 
 
 The lower part of the lake from Bowness to 
 Newhy Bridge, where it seems to lose itself in a 
 rustling waterfall, is of a more simple beauty, yet 
 retaining the character of the beautiful. It was in 
 one of those long autumn evenings, full of colour, 
 which have so tender and sad an influence on the 
 spirits, that I took a boat at Bowness to travel 
 over the lake in this direction. The mountains of 
 the background had already lost themselves in the 
 deep lilac of the evening, and left the eye only the 
 weak outlines of their contours ; all else seemed 
 to grow brown in vapour, — ravine, height, valley, 
 and mountain-top, a strange grey picture of mist. 
 But before me and around me was light. On the 
 right the sun sank behind the high hill-tops, some- 
 times flaming out fiery from a mountain cleft ; on 
 the left glimmered his varied reflection. Over 
 the wood hung the double purple of the autumn 
 and the sunset, — the leaves so crisp, so brown, so 
 golden, moved by the wind — here and there a 
 soft, sloping meadow with cows grazing on it, — 
 a comfortable quiet house by the edge of the wood 
 or of the water. Now the sun shone forth once 
 more, now it disappeared for the last time behind 
 a wall of hills, and the lake darkened into a deep 
 
 2 E 
 
410 ENGLAND 
 
 steel-grey, — growing ever darker and more quiet, 
 till I was quite alone on the wide water, black 
 with the shadows of the mountains, and nothing 
 was heard but the strokes of my boatman's oars. 
 Once, indeed, a steamer passed us, — the ' Fairy 
 Queen,' — with music, which died away over the 
 lake, soft and dreamy, in the evening stillness. 
 Then the loneliness of the night and of the water 
 was no more interrupted; and by the time our 
 boat reached the margin of the lake, the heavens 
 were golden with those great stars, the mountains 
 had taken that colour of deep dark blue, which 
 give something so unspeakably solemn to the night 
 landscape. We had still to go a little distance 
 under trees, whilst the roar of a great water 
 seemed continually to come nearer, before we 
 reached the * White Swan ' inn, in which Mrs. 
 White hospitably rules. 
 
 I had brought with me a card of recommenda- 
 tion to this lady from a friend of the house at 
 Preston, and I must say, that I have never been 
 more heartily welcomed or more hospitably cared 
 for than in the ' White Swan ' at Newby Bridge. 
 I had scarcely sent in my card, before Mrs. White, 
 a stately woman of forty years, with quite a 
 morning glow on her cheeks and nose, entered 
 the little room in which I had laid down my knap- 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 411 
 
 sack. There followed her, in round numbers, half 
 a dozen most charming girls, all of whom she 
 presented to me as her daughters, and who, after 
 confidingly shaking hands with me one after 
 another in descending order, were all sent off to 
 make things comfortable for me in the ' White 
 Swan ' at Newby Bridge. One went away with 
 the order to prepare my bed and bedroom ; another 
 was to look after my tea and supper ; the third to 
 dismiss my boatman ; the fourth to fetch boot-jack 
 and slippers ; the fifth — but what say I ? Never 
 in my life was so much trouble taken for my 
 comfort, and the whole half-dozen had plenty for 
 their hands, large and small, to do, while Mrs. 
 White reclined in an arm-chair by my side, to 
 have a chat with me about her friend. The arm- 
 chair in which Mrs. White had established herself 
 was the most colossal piece of furniture of the 
 sort I have ever seen, and so old that one must 
 think himself a hundred years older when sitting 
 in it. All the little room was a marvel of old- 
 fashioned comfort, with couch and arm-chairs, 
 brown, and with wolfs heads carved on the arms. 
 The lamp on the table was as large and heavy as 
 a small lighthouse. The low walls were decorated 
 with pictures of country-seats, sporting dogs, races, 
 and noble gentlemen and ladies of the last century 
 
 2 E 2 
 
412 ENGLAND 
 
 in long perukes. Over the looking-glass, which 
 was of an oval form, and had the peculiarity of 
 giving every one who looked into it an appearance 
 of suffering from toothache, hung a fish, very 
 ingeniously carved in wood, and painted and 
 varnished with exquisite neatness. In short, here 
 I was in one of those good old English " country 
 inns" which some of the novelists of the last 
 century describe for us in such an incomparable 
 manner. I wanted nothing but my friend Squire 
 Western, in ' Tom Jones,' to smoke a pipe and 
 empty a tankard, or perhaps even two, in his com- 
 pany. I thought of him enough on that evening ; 
 also of his daughter, the lovely Sophia, though this 
 last thought may have been a little unjust towards 
 Mrs. White. 
 
 The sign of the house was a swan, which sat 
 up high above the door in painted wood. On 
 another part of the house hung a blue bunch of 
 grapes, probably as a counter-demonstration, and 
 for the better information of those travellers, 
 who with the representation of a swan involun- 
 tarily associate that element on which this poetic 
 bird lives. 
 
 The * White Swan ' of Newby Bridge lies quite 
 alone in this valley, and nothing could be heard 
 but the roar of the waterfall opposite. Just on 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 413 
 
 the other side of the bridge, which leads across 
 the water, was a forge, before which a couple of 
 lads stood and sang Scotch songs ; and somewhat 
 farther on was a " mansion," that is, the country- 
 seat of one of the gentry, with a park and high 
 wall. That was all ; besides only mountains, woods, 
 water, and the magnificent starry sky, and solitude. 
 By ten o'clock all was quiet at the * White 
 Swan,' and I found myself alone in my chamber 
 just above the waterfall. It was so cozy there. 
 Again I might have imagined myself in the inn at 
 Upton ; — and I should not have been astonished 
 if the door had suddenly been burst open, and the 
 Irish gentleman, with a cudgel in his hand, 
 had rushed in to seek his wife — but nothing 
 of the kind occurred. Then there were so many 
 mysterious nooks and corners in this room, cup- 
 boards built in the wall, wooden seats nailed to 
 the floor, washhand-stands of incalculable length. 
 And then there was the bed, such a colossal huge 
 bed as I had never hitherto seen even in England, 
 that land of wonders in the way of beds — a little 
 dwelling-house, with roof, walls, and pillars,^ 
 what do I say ? — with four mighty posts like 
 boundary posts, a kind of small German Princi- 
 pality. Into this bed one gets by means of port- 
 able carpeted steps. It was of a completely square 
 
414 ENGLAND 
 
 form. The length and breadth could therefore 
 not be distinguished from one another, and the 
 intention of top and bottom could only be guessed 
 at ; so I thought to myself of the " bed of Ware," 
 which appears to have been the English normal 
 bed of Shakspeare's time, and of which Sir Toby, 
 in ' Twelfth Night,' says it measured twelve feet 
 square, and twelve men and twelve women could 
 sleep in it. Wonderful things can one dream in 
 such a bed. And moreover there was the rushing 
 of the waterfall, which filled the loneliness of the 
 night with a strong roar almost like thunder. I 
 had shortly before heard sung a song by Tenny- 
 son. Now the waterfall appeared to have appro- 
 priated the words of the Laureate, and it hummed 
 unceasingly in my ears : — 
 
 " For men may come, and men may go, 
 But I go on for ever." 
 
 At last it was morning, and at an early hour 
 lively, especially in the stable. Horses and coaches 
 were brought out and washed, the honest " ostler " 
 appeared on the scene, and Dame White, with her 
 pretty daughters, began again to conduct domestic 
 concerns in the kitchen and courtyard. Here also 
 I made the acquaintance of Mr. White, that is to 
 say, on the bridge opposite the house, where he 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 416 
 
 was standing with two large, wild-looking hounds, 
 and " smacking," as he expressed it, a new whip. 
 Mr. White was so good as to call my attention to 
 the beauties of the neighbourhood. As he could 
 not take me for much of a " sportsman,'' he in- 
 formed me about the fish which were caught 
 in the river, and recommended me as bait a 
 particular kind of worm, which I could find at 
 a certain place in the bank, farther up. After 
 this he turned again to his hounds, and went 
 away to " smack " the new whip, while I walked 
 along under the gently-moving trees by the 
 water-side, drinking in with perfect delight the 
 fresh perfume of the morn. It was such a 
 genuine picture of an English landscape ; the 
 little inn with the white swan and the blue 
 bunch of grapes ; the small windows with the 
 vine-leaves creeping round them ; and the hospi- 
 table column of smoke which rose quietly from 
 the wide chimney; the grooms with the horses 
 and carriages at the stable ; the girls with buckets 
 at the well ; now a coach-and-four rolling up, 
 stopping, and filling the space before the house 
 with figures of all kinds of colours — among which, 
 naturally, the red of the " coaching gentle- 
 man " was especially prominent ; the quiet man- 
 sion, like an enchanted castle concealed in green, 
 
416 ENGLAND 
 
 with a high wall surmounted by trees and bushes, 
 without any sign of life ; the forge ; the waterfall ; 
 the neat quiet path between the meadows, on 
 which cows pasture, and a child stands minding 
 them; and around, almost touching these, the 
 wooded mountains which picturesquely inclose the 
 little valley of Newby Bridge. 
 
 It was nine o'clock in the morning when, after 
 an excellent breakfast, I shook the respective 
 hands of Dame White and her daughters on my 
 departure, and betook myself to the steamboat 
 which was to bear me back again across the lake 
 to Ambleside. It was a day without sun, — a 
 melancholy sky, the lake veiled in mist. The air 
 was soft^ and full of the sweetest autumn aroma ; 
 but a deep sadness lay spread over the watery 
 mirror, and each tree on its banks let its feathery 
 foliage hang down as if in sorrow. There was 
 nothing of light, but the one variously -coloured 
 green displayed by wood and meadow ; — that 
 wonderful wealth of colour of the woods in autumn, 
 filled with beeches now green, now yellow ; 
 with oaks, which, like strong natures, pay but 
 slowly the tribute of existence ; and with firs and 
 pines, that description of coniferous trees which in 
 the more southerly countries of Europe and in 
 England, akin to them in the mild vegetative force 
 
FB03I A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 417 
 
 of climate, has somewhat supplanted our wild 
 pines. The islands in the water too — my bouquets 
 of flowers in porphyry vases — glowed now, free 
 from light and shade, in the complete splendour 
 of their own light yellow and dark green. All 
 that adorned the margin of ihe lake — the woods, 
 each meadow, each house grown over with ver- 
 dure, each little villa encircled by gardens — was 
 reflected dreamily in the depth of the waters, as 
 though intoxicated by its own native beauty. 
 And this reflection was almost more beautiful 
 than the reality itself, for the water was of such 
 wonderful clearness that the green of the moun- 
 tains and meadows glittered in it with the peculiar 
 brilliancy of coloured jewels. Closing the view of 
 the lake stood the shadows of the mountains like 
 dark gigantic forms; as yesterday, in the clear 
 sky, clouds could scarcely be distinguished from 
 mountains, so .to-day, in the dark sky, could clouds 
 and mountains scarcely be distinguished from their 
 reflection in the water. Such a mist of clouds and 
 vapour, and damp breath from wood and water, 
 surrounded us — it was like a dream ! Then a 
 boat passed by with two ladies in white dresses 
 and round hats — one held the rudder with both 
 hands, the other lay back in the red cushions 
 and dreamed. Then came a boat with sails ; 
 
418 ENGLAND 
 
 others rocked near the shore. Everything was so 
 subdued ; the light, the shade, every sound in the 
 air, every plash of the wave, the beating of one's 
 own heart. There was such a harmony in this 
 sunless day that the soul imperceptibly changed 
 into the same tone. It was a day to visit graves, 
 and celebrate feasts of remembrance ! 
 
 And to such an act of piety this day was conse- 
 crated, for I wished to visit the dwelling-places of 
 the poets, those which they inhabited as long as 
 they lived, and those which they now inhabit 
 since they left life — their graves. The coach 
 which runs in this true land of poets^ awaits 
 at Ambleside those who come from the lake. 
 Here, where now dwells the grey authoress. Miss 
 Martineau, a charming hilly district opens, through 
 which the road gently leads upwards. Behind 
 me on the outside of the coach sat two young 
 English ladies, with their equally youthful hus- 
 bands. One of the ladies had a pleasant, noble 
 countenance, pale, and with a pair of eyes as 
 melancholy as this day. Waterfalls murmured 
 down — subdued — here and there on each side of 
 the road. The noise of water accompanies us con- 
 tinually in this Lake country; now it resounds 
 from the height^ now it resounds from the depth. 
 Before long even the coachman began to speak of 
 
FROM A GEB3TAN POINT OF VIEW. 419 
 
 Wordsworth and Coleridge. That is no wonder. 
 Everyone speaks of them here. 
 
 Here, where the mountain rises up even from 
 the road, where the park, half wood, half garden, 
 leads up to the old castle, where the waterfalls 
 murmur, and where, through the veiled trees be- 
 neath the gloomy sky, a new lake becomes visible. 
 Here is, indeed, a land for the poet 1 There is in 
 it a beauty so rich in sentiment, so much soul, so 
 much harmony ! For, to repeat what I have said 
 already, water is the soul of the landscape. What 
 say^ our Groethe ? — " The soul of man is like water. 
 It comes from Heaven, and to Heaven returns. 
 Again it comes back to Earth, and so alternates 
 for ever." 
 
 Therefore our soul feels a sort of affinity to this 
 soul of the landscape, and with a quiet aspiration 
 it follows for hours the graceful windings of a 
 stream, or subsides into blissful dreaminess in the 
 sympathetic obscurity of a mountain-inclosed lake. 
 The park, with the castle-like residence in it, 
 close to our road, is that of the old Norman family 
 le Fleming ; the lake which we see glittering 
 through the trees is Rydal Water. Eydal Water, 
 or Rydal-Mere, is as lovely a piece of water as can 
 be found in all the Lake district ; so small, indeed, 
 that one can survey the whole of its banks, but 
 
420 ENGLAND 
 
 even on that account so much the more lovely. 
 Like a little jewel it lies in tlie rich casket of this 
 happy land. And on the mountain ahove the 
 lake and the park, called Rydal Mount, still stands 
 the house in which William Wordsworth dwelt. — 
 Immediately after this little lake comes the not 
 much more extensive one of Grasmere; and in 
 a small house resembling a cottage, on its extreme 
 verge, lived Coleridge, and after him, De Quincey. 
 Dreamy enough for an opium-eater ! High rushes 
 grow on the margin of the water. Swans glide 
 about on its drowsy expanse. Dim hills allow 
 their floating images to mingle in the scene. All 
 slumbers, all dreams by this lake of Grasmere. 
 
 In the court and garden of the hotel, before 
 which the coach stops, it was no whit more ani- 
 mated. I sat — I know not how long — close to 
 the brink of the lake, where the late autumn roses 
 shed their fragrance. It was so quiet here ! One 
 heard the beetles hum, and every bird in the air 
 sing. Mountains and meadows among the woods 
 inclosed the motionless water ; — a red gondola 
 passed along with a young couple in it, and three 
 swans, as in the national song, swam slowly 
 behind. 
 
 At last, late in the afternoon, I ascended from 
 the lake. By hilly paths, which lead along the 
 
FBOM A GEEMAN POINT OF VIEW, 421 
 
 slopes between high hedges, here apparently losing 
 themselves, there reappearing, I wandered through 
 fields, past quiet country houses. I saw no man, 
 I only now and then heard a cart. Far below, 
 where the lake ends and the hills open out a little, 
 lies Grasmere, the village ; in the fore-part the 
 church, one of those of which the modestly- 
 religious exterior invites the heart not only to 
 devotion but to humility, — and behind this church 
 is the churchyard with the grave of the poet. If 
 the dead felt every step that is made on their 
 graves ! I have a remembrance of my childhood^ 
 that we were strictly forbidden when we went 
 into a God's acre to tread on the graves. Since 
 that time it has been impossible to me to set my 
 foot on a grave, and it always grieves me if I see 
 any one else do so. Of the poets only one rests 
 here in Grasmere — William Wordsworth. Hartley 
 Coleridge, who sleeps near him, is not the poet 
 who was called Samuel Taylor Coleridge, but his 
 genial, though, unfortunately, somewhat disorderly 
 son. He himself, the poet, died at Highgate .Hill, 
 in London, and in the house of Dr. Gillman ; 
 to whom he had intrusted himself that he might 
 cure him of the use of the deadly opium. There, 
 above the noise and smoke of the roaring Capital, 
 in the pure air of the suburban hill, he rests in his 
 
422 ENGLAND 
 
 grave. Southey, who lived not far from this lake, 
 in the neighbourhood of Keswick, also lies in- 
 terred in the churchyard of his village. On 
 Wordsworth's grave rises a very simple iron 
 tablet. In this one grave rest together the poet 
 and his wife, and on this tablet there is nothing to 
 be read but the words : " William Wordsworth, 
 1850 ; Mary Wordsworth, 1859." But how much 
 these words say ! How much of that faithfulness 
 which surrounds a whole life, and of that love 
 which believes in a reunion after death ! How 
 pleasantly from their common grave they guide 
 our look beyond it ! Pyramids and urns, in which 
 even this little village churchyard is so rich, may 
 be for others; the poet and his wife have only 
 this simple tablet but — their immortal names are 
 upon it. And down below the meadow-brook 
 murmurs away to the lake, that same lake which 
 the poet in life so loved to greet and sing. A 
 little bird trills in the evening air, and the pine 
 trembles gently over his grave. Oh! to sleep like 
 this poet in his own land, surrounded by all which 
 had been the glory of his life, his mountains, 
 his woods ; sung to rest by the chorus of familiar 
 trees, the friendly brook, and native bird ! If any 
 dead man is to be envied, it is William Words- 
 worth ! Nothing disturbs the solitude of this 
 
FHOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 423 
 
 place but the reverence of his people, when now 
 and then a traveller comes to rest by the singer's 
 grave. Nothing is there but the little grey 
 church, the grave-digger's house, the pine-tree, 
 the solitary bird, who sings over the churchyard 
 his twilight song, the brook, which gently plash- 
 ing, kisses its walls, murmuring " for ever, for ever, 
 for ever." It was here at the grave of the poet 
 that I saw the English lady with the melancholy 
 eyes once more ; for the last time, for she remained 
 when I went. She entered the churchyard with 
 her party as I was about to leave it. After a 
 little while, when I looked round from the road, I 
 saw her still sitting on the graves — with her light 
 garments in the deepening twilight — not unlike 
 the spirit of resignation. 
 
 The day had worn away into grey evening, and 
 the night lay soft and heavy, and dark as velvet 
 upon the hills, when, after long wandering, I 
 reached the lake. 
 
424 ENGLAND 
 
 III. 
 THE LAKES OF CUMBEELAND. 
 
 It was again a morning of glorious beauty, that 
 morning on which I bade farewell to my darling 
 Lake of Windermere ! The landscape, the water, 
 the hills, beamed in a true golden autumn splen- 
 dour. Under the hot, midday sun I drove away in 
 a little cart, with a horse as thin as a spindle, but 
 powerful to go and to ascend hills, and with a very 
 discreet little man in a coat of green frieze, who 
 acted as coachman. For the pride of red coats 
 and of coaches and four had an end here, upon 
 coming to the narrow, stony paths in the moun- 
 tains and to the lakes of Cumberland. 
 
 It was one of the warmest days in this year, 
 and at this altitude all was blue with mist and 
 shimmer. Directly from the hotel the road as- 
 cended almost uninterruptedly, and with the road 
 I myself had to ascend. For the little man in 
 the frieze coat had much more compassion for his 
 horse than for his passenger, and for the greatest 
 part of the difficult way all three — coachman, 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 425 
 
 horse, and traveller — walked along peaceably 
 side by side. We left below us Windermere, 
 the lake, the village, and at last the mountains, 
 which there had appeared to me so lofty; and 
 from our height had a wonderful view down, 
 where all at last vanished in a kind of trans- 
 parent blue, in which here and there the white 
 glittering bands of the lake appeared to be woven. 
 At last a hot vapour concealed this also, and the 
 air above us grew cooler; here, on the desolate 
 mountain-crest, we had reached the border of 
 Cumberland. 
 
 This county is, with Northumberland, the most 
 northerly in England. It reaches to the edge of 
 Scotland, and much resembles it in appearance. 
 This wilder character of Cumberland encountered 
 us immediately in the high, bare, stone rocks, 
 which, only lightly overgrown with the green 
 of heath or moss, cast their colossal shadows on 
 the broad sunny surfaces of the opposite precipices. 
 I was also reminded many times of Irish scenery 
 and loneliness ; and in the midst of this unusual 
 glow of autumnal sunshine there was something 
 strange to the soul, something stupefying in the 
 almost immediate change from the shores of the 
 lakes, fragrant with wood and meadow, to the vast 
 monotony of these treeless and shrubless table-lands. 
 
 2 F 
 
426 ENGLAND 
 
 Here on these plateaux, which in some places, 
 with their rugged, scarcely accessible precipices, 
 resemble natural fastnesses, has long been the 
 refuge of the first inhabitants of England, the 
 so-called Cymri, and even to our time their name 
 is retained in that of the county, " Cumberland," 
 whilst their old Celtic language, even the nation 
 itself, has merged into the English. The Britons 
 of Strath-Clyd, and Ryed, and Cumbria, melted 
 away by degrees into the surrounding people, 
 and, with the loss of their language, ceased to be 
 recognisable as a distinct race. But it is very 
 probable that this process was accomplished at a 
 comparatively recent time. In the bishopric of 
 Grlasgow, which includes the greatest part of the 
 old Cumbrian kingdom, the " barbarous " language 
 of the Britons gave way to that dialect of Saxon- 
 English which is called " Lowland Scottish," some- 
 where about the thirteenth century: in some 
 remote districts the language continued until the 
 Reformation, but was then entirely destroyed by 
 the ecclesiastical government of the Protestant 
 clergy. But the broad **u," which the traveller 
 encounters on the shores of the lakes of Cumber- 
 land, reminds him of the heavy kind of tone of 
 the old Celtic tongue which is still spoken by the 
 inhabitants of the principality of Wales, as is 
 
FBOM A QEBMAN POINT OF VIEW, 427 
 
 indicated in Cumberland by several British tradi- 
 tions of that especial land of the Cambrians, Wales. 
 Pendragon Castle, while it recalls to his thoughts 
 the fabulous Uther, the father of Arthur, conjures 
 up at once before his sight the whole of the 
 poetry of Merlin. " King Arthur's Eound Table," 
 one of the countless Druidical remains in these 
 secluded mountain districts, the last asylum of 
 that gloomy form of heathenism, at once, if only 
 by its name, causes to rise before our eyes the 
 knightly King and his brave traditional com- 
 panions, with all the memories of Gruinevere and 
 the Holy Grail. Some of the mountains which 
 lend to this landscape an appearance at once so 
 gloomy and so sublime, have preserved the desig- 
 nations given to them by the primitive popula- 
 tion, and " Skiddaw " and " Helvellyn " stand now 
 as mighty monuments of a whole race which has 
 passed away. 
 
 For a long while no man, no carriage met us ; 
 and as in a country d^ad and forsaken of all 
 living beings, we wandered on under the silent, 
 burning sun, always ascending and ascending, 
 until we reached a gate which closed the way, 
 with a cottage close by, out of which at our call 
 came an old woman to open the wooden barrier 
 for us. Every vehicle stops before the door of this 
 
 2 F 2 
 
428 ENGLAND 
 
 cottage ; because, as a board over it says, " This is 
 the highest inhabited house in England." The 
 old woman brought some water for the horse, and 
 some beer for the man, and they both — ^untroubled 
 by the almost ghostly sensation which the loneli- 
 ness of the scene caused — drank with much relish. 
 G-rey and bathed in sunlight the stony mountain 
 stood before us in the dark blue afternoon sky, 
 without a tree, without a shrub, without a trace 
 of life. Only the purling of a spring close by 
 the house could be heard, and the cackling of a 
 couple of hens which ran about on the scanty 
 grass down in the hollow. There seemed to be no 
 one in the house besides the old woman ; and when 
 she appeared at the door, with her face looking 
 as gloomy and wrinkled as the rocks opposite, I 
 thought involuntarily of the story of the wicked 
 fairy and the runaway bairns. But the man — my 
 coachman — was not assailed by such ideas; and 
 after he had drunk his beer, and mine as well, he 
 harnessed his little horse again, and we drove 
 forward in the now lessening splendour of the 
 sun, which already held its afternoon position over 
 the mountains. Deep hollows full of blue shadows 
 opened before us, while in the purer height of ether 
 the summits of the rocks took all kinds of fantastic 
 outlines. 
 
FROM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 429 
 
 ** This is the Church," said the man, whose mouth 
 had been opened by the two glasses of beer, " this 
 is the Giant," "this is the Cross." I took the 
 man's word for it, but saw nothing of it all, on 
 account of being obliged to hold fast to the rail of 
 the little cart, so as not to fall out. For as we 
 formerly had ascended in an alarming manner, 
 so now we flew down hill in a manner still 
 more alarming; often so close to a precipice, or 
 turning so sharply round projecting ledges of 
 rock, that an upset seemed almost the sole possi- 
 bility in our advance. But the man told me to 
 hold fast, to have no fear, and to let the horse 
 go ; and as I fulfilled these three directions as 
 much as in me lay, all went off very well. 
 
 Now the country began to be somewhat more 
 lively, after the long monotony through which 
 we had hitherto come. On the declivities of the 
 still bare mountain-sides clambered sheep — ^those 
 modest animals for whose support the fruitfulness 
 of stones appears to sufiice — and above all, water- 
 falls ran and roared from the granite, and curved 
 about in long silver bands, glittering down from 
 the height, or rushed in broad cascades over 
 blocks of stone and rubble, filling the silence with 
 their lovely music. 
 
 Cattle-keeping is the only employment that 
 
430 ENGLAND 
 
 remains for the inhabitants of this angry district, 
 which reminded me of the " inhospitable heights " 
 of Horace's Ode. Their grey stone huts are to be 
 seen scattered here and there, lying under a shel- 
 tered declivity, scarcely to be distinguished in this 
 blinding sunshine from the rocks on which they 
 hang. Stone walls divide off the several lots, and 
 where the road winds along the boundary barred 
 gates are erected, around which lie in wait whole 
 troops of children from the neighbouring cottages, 
 who, as soon as a carriage approaches, get up to 
 open the gate, and expect their " ha'penny " as toll 
 for so doing. But they do not beg like their 
 relations in Wales, still less do they refuse passage 
 to non-payers, like those in Scotland, where this 
 kind of compulsory levying of tolls has survived as 
 a remainder of the " black-mail " of the old times of 
 the clans. No; these children of the Cumberland 
 mountains are certainly very dirty, running bare- 
 foot and clothed in rags, but, nevertheless, very 
 modest and pleasant children. One of them, a 
 girl of ten years old, with very pretty dark blue 
 eyes, sprang up on the board behind, and drove 
 on with us over stock and stone, allowed me to 
 stroke her hair^ her forehead, and her cheeks, and 
 looked at me, constantly smiling so bashfully, as if 
 she desired more. At last I kissed her mouth. 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW, 431 
 
 She continued, however, to smile, and at length, 
 after half an hour, sprang from the carriage. Un' 
 fortunately I only learnt from my coachman when 
 it was too late, that the fulfilment of her modest 
 wish had nothing to do with a kiss, but with a 
 " ha'penny," of which, in fact, with such a pretty 
 child I had never even thought. 
 
 Gradually as the road descended, the character 
 of the landscape became softer : trees again ap- 
 peared, at first only pines and other coniferous 
 trees, then leafy trees mingled with these, the 
 foot of the mountain was clothed with shrubs, 
 and the cheerful evening sunshine illumined soft 
 grassy levels and lovely woods, between which 
 red roofs shone out, and somewhat farther off, a 
 new lake. It was the little village of Patter dale^ 
 which nestles almost on the margin of the lake of 
 Ulleswater, one of the most famous in Cumberland. 
 What a pleasant change was this cheerful land- 
 scape, in which the bee roves from rose to rose, 
 and the bird sings its evening song in more serene 
 air and a more cloudless height, from the stony 
 desolation through which I had just passed! 
 Here, too, the lake was to be seen in its full 
 evening glory. Eocks with bold summits, rent 
 by wind and storm, formed the shore on the other 
 side, which is only bordered with green wood and 
 
432 ENGLAND 
 
 turf round the foot, where it sinks into the lake. 
 But upon our side wooded mountains dipping into 
 a dark hollow, surrounded the water, now glitter- 
 ing in the evening sun. And here on a large, 
 broad plot of grass, which is spread like a carpet 
 on the shore of the lake, stands the inn. One 
 can think of nothing more charming than this 
 inn, with its flower-beds and its lawn lying right 
 in the woody hollow and close to the lake, as it 
 appears with its lighted windows here in the 
 cool leafy twilight, and there on the mirror-like 
 water. It is tranquil — ^but with a different tran- 
 quillity from that above in Windermere. It is 
 more the rest of a conscious self-contained hap- 
 piness, free from every sorrowful alloy, a fresh 
 joyful view of the present. Without knowing 
 why, I thought much in distant Cumberland 
 of Berthold Auerbach ; thought that here, among 
 these dark trees, it must have been as quiet 
 as in his own Schwarzwald. But now, while 
 I walked on the lawn, redolent with all the 
 perfume and cool freshness of the evening, there 
 appeared suddenly at one of the windows, which 
 reached to the green ground, a female figure, 
 which immediately upon perceiving me uttered a 
 loud laugh, and then disappeared. This laughter 
 troubled me much, and brought me almost entirely 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 433 
 
 out of my wonderful evening mood. What could 
 there be so laughable about me? I thought, as 
 I walked to the lake carefully to inspect my 
 appearance in its clear surface. I discovered 
 nothing, however much I twisted and turned ; 
 till at last I saw the lady at the window again, 
 but this time with a gentleman by her side, 
 giving themselves much trouble to make them- 
 selves recognised by the unceasing waving of 
 both their handkerchiefs, and, when this appeared 
 to be of no use, they began to sing with their 
 fresh voices : 
 
 " Com rigs, an' barley rigs, 
 
 An' corn rigs are bonnie, ob ! 
 I'll ne'er forget tbat happy night 
 Amang the rigs wi' Annie, ob ! " 
 
 Now I knew them again, the two ghosts from 
 Furness Abbey, who here by the lake of Ulles- 
 water were to be again charming spirits of amuse- 
 ment to me. Immediately I hastened across the 
 lawn, entered to them by the window, and found 
 to my joy that Harry and Jessie, although they 
 had been married now over a week, still loved 
 each other very much. We had no ruins and no 
 moonlight this evening as on the former, but we 
 had a good tea and an excellent piece of roast beef 
 
434 ENGLAND 
 
 to console us instead. I also found this evening 
 that matrimony has no more zealous advocates 
 than those youthful beings who are still on their 
 wedding journey. Later indeed, when life wears 
 its everyday face, and there are no more moun- 
 tains, lakes, or honeymoon, they are in the habit 
 of thinking and speaking somewhat more quietly 
 on this point. But that is only quite right, for 
 " true happiness is silent." The following after- 
 noon, shortly before my departure, Harry and I 
 exchanged cards in the hope of seeing one another 
 again, if not in this district at least in this life ; 
 and for a long time after I was on board the little 
 steamer which slowly moved off from the shore, I 
 saw them both at the window signalling to me, 
 with their white handkerchiefs, farewell. 
 
 The lake of Cumberland is less varied than the 
 lakes of Westmoreland, and in form and substance 
 its shores are decidedly more sombre and grotesque. 
 They are naked rocks, which tower up peak over 
 peak. But at this hour, when the splendour of the 
 sun polished their sides like dead gold, they had 
 a cloudy softness, as if one range of cloud stood 
 behind the other, and a twilight of soft, and ever- 
 extending blue inclosed the glassy water of the 
 lake, which was light to the last. After an hour 
 we reached the end of it at Pouley-Bridge, where 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 435 
 
 once more a red coat and a coacli-and-four awaited 
 us. This was my last coach drive in the district 
 of the lakes, by night-covered meadows, borders of 
 fields, and quiet villages as far as the little town 
 of Penrith, which received the coach rattling 
 briskly in right joyfully, with flickering gas- 
 lights and cheerful street noises. Of the little 
 town itself, although it is considered very pretty, 
 I could not see much, notwithstanding the gas- 
 lights ; but I saw so much the more of the smok- 
 ing and drinking-room of the ' Royal George,' as 
 my hotel was called. In the said room the talk 
 was very high upon a cattle-market which had 
 been held that day in Penrith. There sat the 
 well-to-do farmer in leathern gaiters ; there sat the 
 crafty cattle dealer from the Scotch Lowlands ; and 
 there sat also the worthy host of the ' Royal 
 George ; ' all three with great hats on, with long 
 clay pipes in their mouths, and with silver cans 
 and a rum bottle before them, to which they dili- 
 gently applied themselves. Near them under the 
 chair each one had his " spittoon/' into which once 
 in every ten minutes he knocked out his clay pipe, 
 and before them on the middle of the table a tin 
 box with black tobacco, called "shag," from which 
 each as frequently refilled his pipe. They drank 
 and smoked with very grave countenances, and 
 
436 ENGLAND 
 
 carried on at the same time very grave conversa- 
 tion about the price of oxen, and other useful 
 animals. There was no lack of pretty, giggling 
 girls ; but like the angel with the flaming sword, 
 the stout landlady with the red nose had posted 
 herself on the threshold of the kitchen, and let 
 none of them come much into view. On the sofa 
 in the coffee-room was stretched a "commercial 
 man," as in this country the "commis voyageur" 
 is called ; so that after all memories of rippling of 
 lakes and moonlight nights, nothing remained for 
 me as a last rest but the bed, which comfortably 
 received me under its red silk canopy, and 
 encircled me with its red, though somewhat faded 
 hangings. 
 
 When the sun rose the next morning I found 
 myself already on the road. But one more last 
 farewell look at the romantic was to be granted 
 me before the land of the Lakes closed to me 
 completely. There stood a stately castle, silent in 
 the virgin morning scent of the trees, on a broad 
 lawn fresh with dew, its mighty battlements and 
 pinnacles clearly outlined in the ever-increasing 
 golden light of dawning day. This is the family 
 seat of the Musgraves, and the name of the 
 castle is EdenhalL Who does not think of one 
 of Uhland's most beautiful ballads, *The Luck 
 
FBOM A GERMAN POINT OF VIEW. 437 
 
 of Edenhall,' when he hears this name ? It 
 came upon me as a strong home remembrance, 
 as a perfect echo from the time of my youth, 
 when I saw before me this theatre of one of 
 my favourite poems, and involuntarily my lips 
 moved, as I remembered the young Lord rising 
 at the head of his table in the midst of music, 
 and roaring amidst his drunken guests for the cup 
 which was called the ' Luck of EdenhalL' 
 
 The tradition, as it is told on the spot, runs 
 thus : " The butler of Edenhall came once in the 
 olden time to the spring of St. Cuthbert, which 
 is near the castle, just as a troop of fairies were 
 dancing in a ring upon the grass. These airy 
 beings flew frightened away, but left their 
 drinking-glass behind them. One of them came 
 back to fetch it; but when she saw that it was 
 in the hands of the cup-bearer, she flew sadly 
 away and sang : — 
 
 *' If that glass should break or fall, 
 Farewell the luck of Edenhall." 
 
 Or as Uhland has it : — 
 
 " Kommt dies Glas zu Fall, 
 Fahrwohl dann, o Gltick von Edenhall." 
 
 The Musgraves are one of the oldest families in 
 England ; they trace their pedigree from one of 
 
438 ENGLAND 
 
 the companions in arms of William the Conqueror. 
 From that far time they have continued valiant 
 in war and peace, have been sheriffs of their 
 county and Members of Parliament, and afford 
 us at the same time an example of those families 
 which, older than the oldest house of the English 
 nobility, still only belong to the gentry. One 
 of their ancestors, Thomas de Musgrave, in the 
 time of Edward III., commanded in the victorious 
 engagement at Durham, and took David Bruce, 
 the young King of the Scots, prisoner. Later, in 
 the civil wars the Musgraves stood true to the 
 Royal banner of the Stuarts, the first of whom had 
 created them baronets. The second baronet. Sir 
 Philip, fought at Marston Moor, and under the 
 heroic Countess of Derby, for King Charles I., and 
 at Worcester for his son, the Charles II. of after- 
 times : another Musgrave, of a collateral line. Sir 
 Edward, sold his possessions to raise a regiment 
 for the same purpose. The brave Royalists were 
 overthrown, and King Charles fell on the scaffold ; 
 but in the battle of Worcester, Sir Edward was 
 again present, together with his cousin, to fight 
 once more for the throne. It was here that 
 Charles II. had his horse shot under him, and Sir 
 Edward gave him his. After the unfortunate 
 issue of the battle, Sir Edward fled to Scotland, 
 
FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 439 
 
 where he hoped to find shelter with the noble 
 Duke of Gordon ; but his refuge was discovered, 
 and the Duke received a message from Cromwell, 
 " that if he did not at once give up Ned Musgrave, 
 that arch rebel, he, Cromwell, would send a band of 
 troopers to storm the Duke's castle." To the un- 
 fortunate Eoyalist no choice remained but again to 
 take flight ; he betook himself over the sea to the 
 Isle of Man, and there he died before the Restora- 
 tion, which reinstated his family, and that of his 
 cousin, in their property. Still a patent which 
 would have made the Musgraves, these true 
 cavaliers, barons, was never issued ; they were 
 and still are to the present day plain baronets. 
 But proud of their family traditions of more than 
 eight hundred years, — an antiquity with which 
 none of the titled families in England can even 
 remotely compare, — they still remain in their 
 family castle of Edenhall among the mountains of 
 Cumberland; and there with other relics is the 
 celebrated drinking-cup, celebrated in song and 
 tradition, **the luck of Edenhall," carefully kept 
 as a palladium of the family. It is preserved in a 
 leathern case, which is decorated with branches 
 of vine-leaves, and has upon the lid the letters 
 J. H. C. The drinking-cup itself is of green 
 glass, adorned with leaves and enamel of different 
 
440 ENGLAND 
 
 colours ; it is deep, narrow, holds about an English 
 pint, and from the style of its ornament, appears 
 to date from the fifteenth century. 
 
 In our Uhland's ballad the glass suddenly 
 cracks at a banquet, and immediately the vaulted 
 hall cracks also, flames start out from the rift, 
 the guests are dispersed, the enemy rushes in and 
 murders the young lord, who still holds in his 
 hand "the shattered luck of Edenhall." In the 
 morning the butler wanders alone seeking the 
 shards of the drinking-cup : — 
 
 " * The stone wall,' saith he, * doth fall aside, 
 Down must the stately columns fall ; 
 Glass in this earth's luck and pride ; 
 In atoms shall fall this earthly ball, 
 One day like the Luck of Edenhall.' " 
 
 Thus, with a thought of the G-erman poet, little 
 then imagining how soon he was to be taken away 
 from us, I closed my autumn days at the English 
 lakes. 
 
 Ten years have flown since then, and like a 
 dream, when I look back, these days stand before 
 my eyes, dipped in all the charm and perfume of 
 romance. But more especially dreamy appears to 
 me that idea, that feeling which vividly possessed 
 
FBOM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 441 
 
 me when I read again my yellow journal about 
 the English lakes, — that feeling, divided between 
 unquiet impulse to wander, and strong desire 
 for home, which once governed Germans when 
 abroad, as is so strikingly expressed in the beau- 
 tiful song of Justinus Kerner : — 
 
 " Love follows him, Love leads him by the hand, 
 Makes him a dear hom.e in most distant land." 
 
 With these lines, — God knows, — we have often 
 comforted ourselves when, hundreds of miles 
 away, it would not have been well for us to have 
 been seized by sore aching after the home which 
 we had left in dejection and discontent 
 
 That is now all past. No more need we seek 
 our home in the "most distant land;" we have 
 found it, and will lose it no more, thanks to you, 
 faithful dead, whose song accompanies us cheer- 
 fully, a last invisible link between hearts abroad 
 and in the parental home ! What we wanted 
 when away was Germany ; but it was Germany 
 also that called us back ! Its new birth in war 
 and victory has again shown to him, who long 
 remained away from it in solitude, his place 
 where he can feel at home, and make himself 
 useful to the great whole. No more out into 
 the distance, but homeward throngs every wish 
 
 2 G 
 
442 ENGLAND FROM A GEBMAN POINT OF VIEW. 
 
 and every thought ; and with a full feeling of 
 happiness and love we embrace the dear ground 
 of that fatherland, on whose threshold the wan- 
 derer, returning, now lays down with fervent 
 thankfulness his staff of pilgrimage. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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