Young Americans Abroad
V >>
Various >> Young Americans Abroad
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19
I am yours always,
WELD.
Letter 6.
LONDON.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
All round London there are the most exquisite villages or towns, full of
charming retreats, boxes of wealthy tradesmen, and some very fine rows
of brick and stone residences, with gardens in front. I am amused to see
almost every house having a name. Thus you find one house called, on
the gateway, Hamilton Villa, the next Hawthorne Lodge, whilst opposite
their fellows rejoice in the names, Pelham House, Cranborne Cottage; and
so it is with hundreds of neat little domiciles. I think the road up to
St. John's Wood is one of the prettiest I have seen; and there are in it
perhaps two hundred habitations, each having its _sobriquet._ Since
writing to you last we have been to Camberwell, a very pretty place, two
or three miles from the city. We called on a gentleman who had a party
that night, and we were politely invited, and spent an agreeable
evening. The supper was elegant, and the ladies were quite inquisitive
as to our social manners. One gentleman present had a son in Wisconsin,
and he seemed to fancy that, as that state was in the United States, it
was pretty much like the rest of the country. We told him that Wisconsin
was about as much like New York and Massachusetts as Brighton, in 1851,
was like what it was one hundred years ago. When we talk with
well-educated persons here, we are much amused at their entire
unacquaintedness with American geography and history. I think an
importation of Morse's School Geography would be of great service. We
very often lose our patience when we hear about the great danger of life
in America. I find very intelligent and respectable persons who fancy
that life is held by a slight tenure in the Union, and that law and
order are almost unknown. Now, the first week we were in London the
papers teemed with accounts of murders in various parts of England. One
newspaper detailed no less than eleven oases of murder, or executions on
account of murders. Poison, however, seems just at present the
prevailing method by which men and women are removed.
As to accidents in travel, we, no doubt, have our full share; but since
our arrival in England the railroad trains have had some pretty rough
shakings, and the results in loss of life and limb would have passed for
quite ugly enough, even had they happened in the west. I very much wish
you could have been with us on Easter Monday, when we passed the day at
Greenwich, and were at the renowned Greenwich Fair, which lasts for
three days. The scene of revelry takes place in the Park, a royal one,
and really a noble one. Here all the riff-raff and bobtail of London
repair in their finery, and have a time. You can form no notion of the
affair; it cannot be described. The upper part of the Park, towards the
Royal Observatory, is very steep, and down this boys and girls, men and
women, have a roll. Such scenes as are here to be witnessed we cannot
match. Nothing can exceed the doings that occur. All the public houses
swarm, and in no spot have I ever seen so many places for drinking as
are here. The working-men of London, and apprentices, with wires and
sweethearts, all turn out Easter Monday. It seems as though all the
horses, carts, chaises, and hackney coaches of the city were on the
road. We saw several enormous coal wagons crammed tightly with boys and
girls. On the fine heath, or down, that skirts the Park, are hundreds of
donkeys, and you are invited to take a halfpenny, penny, or twopenny
ride. All sorts of gambling are to be seen. One favorite game with the
youngsters was to have a tobacco box, full of coppers, stuck on a stick
standing in a hole, and then, for a halfpenny paid to the proprietor,
you are entitled to take a shy at the mark. If it falls into the hole,
you lose; if you knock it off, and away from the hole, you take it. It
_requires,_ I fancy, much adroitness and experience to make any thing at
"shying" at the "bacca box." At night, Greenwich is all alive--life is
out of London and in the fair. But let the traveller who has to return
to town beware. The road is full of horses and vehicles, driven by
drunken men and boys; and, for four or five miles, you can imagine that
a city is besieged, and that the inhabitants are flying from the sword.
O, such weary-looking children as we saw that day! One favorite
amusement was to draw a little wooden instrument quick over the coat of
another person, when it produces a noise precisely like that of a torn
garment. Hundreds of these machines were in the hands of the urchins who
crowded the Park. Here, for the first time, I saw the veritable gypsy of
whose race we have read so much in Borrow's Zincali. The women are very
fine looking, and some of the girls were exquisitely beautiful. They are
a swarthy-looking set, and seem to be a cross of Indian and Jew. Those
we saw were proper wiry-looking fellows. One or two of the men were
nattily dressed, with fancy silk handkerchiefs. They live in tents, and
migrate through the midland counties, but I believe are not as numerous
as they were thirty years ago. You will not soon forget how we were
pleased with the memoirs of Bamfield Moore Carew, who was once known as
their king in Great Britain. I wonder that book has never been reprinted
in America. I am pretty sure that Greenwich Park would please your
taste. I think the view from the Royal Observatory, and from whence
longitude is reckoned, is one of the grandest I have ever seen. You get
a fine view of the noble palace once the royal residence, but now the
Sailor's Home. You see the Thames, with its immense burden, and, through
the mist, the great city. As to the Hospital, we shall leave that for
another excursion: we came to Greenwich at present merely to witness
Easter Fair, and it will not soon be forgotten by any of us.
Yours, &c.,
JAMES.
Letter 7.
BRISTOL.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
As we had a few days to spare before the exhibition opened, we proposed
to run down to Bristol and Bath, and pass a week. We took the Great
Western train first-class ears, and made the journey of one hundred and
twenty miles in two hours and forty minutes. This is the perfection of
travelling. The cars are very commodious, holding eight persons, each
having a nicely-cushioned chair. The rail is the broad gage; and we
hardly felt the motion, so excellent is the road. The country through
which we passed was very beautiful, and perhaps it never appears to more
advantage than in the gay garniture of spring. We left Windsor Castle to
our left, and Eton College, and passed by Beading, a fine, flourishing
town; and at Swindon we made a stay of ten minutes. The station at this
place is very spacious and elegant. Here the passengers have the only
opportunity to obtain refreshments on the route; and never did people
seem more intent upon laying in provender. The table was finely laid
out, and a great variety tempted the appetite. The railroad company,
when they leased this station, stipulated that every train should pass
ten minutes at it. But the express train claimed exemption, and refused
to afford the time. The landlord prosecuted the company, obtained
satisfactory damages, and now even the express train affords its
passengers time to recruit at Swindon. This place has grown up under the
auspices of the railroad, and one can hardly fancy a prettier place than
environs the station. The cottages are of stone, of the Elizabethan and
Tudor style, and are very numerous; while the church, which is just
finished, is one of the neatest affairs I have yet seen in England. The
town of Swindon is about two miles from the station, and I expect to
visit it in the course of my journey. You know, my dear Charley, how
long and fondly I have anticipated my visit to my native city, and can
imagine my feelings on this route homewards. We passed through Bath, a
most beautiful city, (and I think as beautiful as any I ever saw,) and
then in half an hour we entered Bristol. The splendid station-house of
the railroad was new to me, but the old streets and houses were all
familiar as if they had been left but yesterday. The next morning I
called on my friends, and you may think how sad my disappointment was to
find that a dangerous accident had just placed my nearest relative in
the chamber of painful confinement for probably three months. It was a
pleasant thing to come home to scenes of childhood and youth, and I was
prepared to enjoy every hour; but I soon realized that here all our
roses have thorns. Of course, in Bristol I need no guide; and the boys
are, I assure you, pretty thoroughly fagged out, when night comes, with
our perambulations through the old city and neighborhood.
Bristol has claims upon the attention of the stranger, not only as one
of the oldest cities in England, but on account of its romantic scenery.
The banks of the Avon are not to be surpassed by the scenes afforded by
any other river of its size in the world. This city was founded by
Brennus, the chieftain of the Gauls and the conqueror of Rome, 388 B.C.,
and tradition states that his brother Belinus aided him in the work. The
statues of these worthies are quaintly carved on the gateway of John's
Church, in Broad Street, and are of very great antiquity. In the
earliest writings that bear upon the west of England--the Welsh
Chronicles--this city is called _Caer oder_, which means the city of the
_Chasm_. This the Saxons called _Clifton_. The Avon runs through a
tremendous fissure in the rocks called Vincent's Rocks; and hence the
name given to the suburbs of the city, on its banks--Clifton. Of this
place we shall have much to tell you. Another Welsh name for the city
was _Caer Brito_, or the painted city, or the famous city. Bristol, like
Rome, stands on seven hills, and on every side is surrounded by the most
attractive scenery. It has made quite a figure in history, and its
castle was an object of great importance during the civil wars between
Charles I. and his Parliament. This city stands in two counties, and has
the privileges of one itself. It is partly in Gloucestershire and partly
in Somersetshire. The population of Bristol, with Clifton and the Hot
Wells, is about two hundred thousand. My first excursion with the boys
was to Redcliffe Church, which is thought to be the finest parish church
in England. This is the church where poor Chatterton said that he found
the Rowley MSS. No one of taste visits the city without repairing to
this venerable pile. Its antiquity, beauty of architecture, and the many
interesting events connected with its history, claim particular notice.
This church was probably commenced about the beginning of the thirteenth
century; but it was completed by William Cannynge, Sen., mayor of the
city, in 1396. In 1456, the lofty spire was struck by lightning, and one
hundred feet fell upon the south aisle. The approach from Redcliffe
Street is very impressive. The highly-ornamented tower, the west front
of the church, its unrivalled north porch, and the transept, with flying
buttresses, pinnacles, and parapet, cannot fail to gratify every
beholder. The building stands on a hill, and is approached by a
magnificent flight of steps, guarded by a heavy balustrade. In length,
the church and the Lady Chapel is two hundred and thirty-nine feet;
from north to south of the cross aisles is one hundred and seventeen
feet; the height of the middle aisle is fifty-four, and of the north and
south aisles, twenty-five feet.
The impression produced on the spectator by the interior is that of awe
and reverence, as he gazes on the clustered pillars, the mullioned
windows, the panelled walls, the groined ceilings, decorated with ribs,
tracery, and bosses, all evincing the skill of its architects and the
wonderful capabilities of the Gothic style.
The east window and screen have long been hidden by some large paintings
of Hogarth. The subjects of these are the Ascension, the Three Marys at
the Sepulchre, and the High Priest sealing Christ's Tomb.
On a column in the south transept is a flat slab, with a long
inscription, in memory of Sir William Penn, father of William Penn, the
great founder of Pennsylvania. The column is adorned with his banner and
armor.
The boys, who had so often read of Guy, Earl of Warwick, and of his
valorous exploits, were greatly pleased to find in this church, placed
against a pillar, a rib of the Dun cow which he is said to have slain.
You may be very sure that we inquired for the room in which Chatterton
said he found old Monk Rowley's poems. It is an hexagonal room over the
north porch, in which the archives were kept Chatterton's uncle was
sexton of the church; and the boy had access to the building, and
carried off parchments at his pleasure. The idea of making a literary
forgery filled his mind; and if you read Southey and Cottle's edition of
the works of Chatterton, or, what is far better, an admirable Life of
the young poet by John Dix, a gifted son of Bristol, now living in
America, you will have an interesting view of the character of this
remarkable youth.
[Illustration: Thomas Chatterton.]
At the east end of the church is the Chapel of the Virgin Mary. A noble
room it is. A large statue of Queen Elizabeth, in wood, stands against
one of the windows, just where it did thirty-seven years ago, when I was
a youngster, and went to her majesty's grammar school, which is taught
in the chapel. I showed the boys the names of my old school-fellows cut
upon the desks. How various their fates! One fine fellow, whose name yet
lives on the wood, found his grave in the West Indies, on a voyage he
had anticipated with great joy.
I am glad to say that a spirited effort is now making to restore this
gorgeous edifice. It was greatly needed, and was commenced in 1846. I do
wish you could see this church and gaze upon its interior. I have
obtained some fine drawings of parts of the edifice, and they will
enable you to form some faint idea of the splendor of the whole. We have
to dine with a friend, and I must close.
Yours affectionately,
J.O.C.
Letter 8.
BRISTOL.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
You have so often expressed a desire to see the fine cathedral churches
and abbeys of the old world, that I shall not apologize for giving you
an account of them; and as they are more in my way, I shall take them
into my hands, and let the lads write you about other things. The next
visit we took, after I wrote you last, was to the cathedral. This is of
great antiquity. In 1148, a monastery was dedicated to St. Augustine.
This good man sent one Jordan as a missionary in 603, and here he
labored faithfully and died. It seems, I think, well sustained that the
venerable Austin himself preached here, and that his celebrated
conference with the British clergy took place on College Green; and it
is thought that the cathedral was built on its site to commemorate the
event. The vicinity of the church is pleasing. The Fitzhardings, the
founders of the Berkeley family, began the foundation of the abbey in
1140, and it was endowed and dedicated in 1148. The tomb of Sir Robert,
the founder, lies at the east of the door, and is enclosed with rails.
Some of the buildings connected with the church are of great antiquity,
and are probably quite as old as the body of the cathedral. A gateway
leading to the cloisters and chapter-house is plainly Saxon, and is
regarded as the finest Saxon archway in England. The western part of the
cathedral was demolished by Henry VIII. The eastern part, which remains,
has a fine Gothic choir. This was created a bishop's see by Henry VIII.
It is interesting to think that Secker, Butler, and Newton have all been
bishops of this diocese, and Warburton, who wrote the Divine Legation of
Moses, was once Dean of Bristol. The immortal Butler, who wrote the
Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion, lies buried here, and his
tombstone is on the south aisle, at the entrance of the choir. A
splendid monument has been erected to his memory, with the following
inscription from the pen of Robert Southey, himself a Bristolian:--
Sacred
to the Memory of
JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L.,
twelve years Bishop of this Diocese,
afterwards of Durham, whose mortal remains
are here deposited. Others had established
the historical and prophetical grounds of the
Christian Religion, and that true testimony of Truth
which is found in its perfect adaptation to the heart
of man. It was reserved for him to develop its
analogy to the constitution and course of Nature;
and laying his strong foundations
in the depth of that great argument,
there to construct another and
irrefragable proof; thus rendering
Philosophy subservient
to Faith, and finding
in outward and
visible things
the type and evidence of those within the veil.
Born, A.D. 1693. Died, 1752.
We noticed a very fine monument by Bacon to the memory of Mrs. Draper,
said to have been the Eliza of Sterne. We hastened to find the
world-renowned tomb of Mrs. Mason, and to read the lines on marble of
that inimitable epitaph, which has acquired a wider circulation than any
other in the world. The lines were written by her husband, the Rev.
William Mason.
"Take, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear;
Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave.
To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care
Her faded form; she bowed to taste the wave,
And died. Does youth, does beauty read the line?
Does sympathetic fear their breasts alarm?
Speak, dead Maria; breathe a strain divine;
E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm.
Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee;
Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move;
And if so fair, from vanity as free,
As firm in friendship, and as fond in love,--
Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die,
(Twas e'en to thee,) yet, the dread path once trod,
Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high,
And bids the pure in heart behold their God."
In the cloisters we saw the tomb of Bird the artist, a royal
academician, and a native of Bristol. We were much interested with a
noble bust of Robert Southey, the poet, which has just been erected in
the north aisle. It stands on an octangular pedestal of gray marble,
with Gothic panels. The bust is of the most exquisitely beautiful
marble. The inscription is in German text.
Robert Southey,
Born in Bristol,
October 4, 1774;
Died at Reswick,
March 21, 1843.
[Illustration: Robert Southey]
The cloisters contain some fine old rooms, which recall the days of the
Tudors. Here we saw the apartments formerly occupied by the learned and
accomplished Dr. Hodges, now organist of Trinity Church, New York. This
gentleman is a native of Bristol, and is held, we find, in respectful
and affectionate remembrance by the best people of this city.
Opposite to the cathedral, and on the other side of the college green,
is the Mayor's Chapel, where his honor attends divine service. In
Catholic days, this was the Church and Hospital of the Virgin Mary. This
edifice was built by one Maurice de Gaunt in the thirteenth century.
Under the tower at the east front is a small door, by which you enter
the church, and on the north another, by which you enter a small room,
formerly a confessional, with two arches in the walls for the priest and
the penitent. In this room are eight niches, in which images once stood.
The roof is vaulted with freestone, in the centre of which are two
curious shields and many coats of arms. In 1830, this chapel was
restored and beautified. A fine painted window was added, and the altar
screen restored to its former beauty, at the expense of the corporation.
The front of the organ gallery is very rich in Gothic moulding, tracery,
crockets, &c. It is flanked at the angles with octagonal turrets, of
singular beauty, embattled, and surmounted with canopies, crockets, &c.
The spandrils, quatrefoils, buttresses, sculptures, and cornices are
exceedingly admired. The pulpit is of stone, and the mayor's throne, of
carved oak, is of elaborate finish. Here are two knights in armor, with
their right hands on their sword hilts, on the left their shields, _with
their legs crossed,_ which indicates that they were crusaders.
In every excursion around Bristol, the boys were struck with the fact
that an old tower was visible on a high hill. The hill is called Dundry,
and it is said that it can be seen every where for a circle of five
miles round the city. Dundry is five miles from Bristol, and fourteen
from Bath, and it commands the most beautiful and extensive prospect in
the west of England. We rode out to it with an early friend of mine, who
is now the leading medical man of Bristol; and when I tell you that we
went in an Irish jaunting car, you may guess that we were amused. The
seats are at the sides, and George was in ecstasies at the novelty of
the vehicle. When oh the summit, we saw at the north and east the cities
of Bath and Bristol, and our view included the hills of Wiltshire, and
the Malvern Hills of Worcestershire. The Severn, from north to west, is
seen, embracing the Welsh coast, and beyond are the far-famed mountains
of Wales. The church has a fine tower, with turreted pinnacles fifteen
feet above the battlements. We rode over to Chew Magna, a village two
miles beyond Dundry. Here I went to a boarding school thirty-eight
years ago, and I returned to the village for the first time. It had
altered but little. The streets seemed narrower; but there was the old
tower where I had played fives, and there was the cottage where I bought
fruit; and when I entered it, Charley, I found "young Mr. Batt"-a man of
eighty-six. His father used to be "old Mr. Batt," and he always called
his son his "boy," and we boys termed him "young Mr. Batt." I came back
and found him eighty-six. So do years fly away. I called on one old
school-fellow, some years my junior. He did not recognize me, but I at
once remembered him. We partook of a lunch at his house. I was sadly
disappointed to find the old boarding school gone, but was not a little
relieved when I heard that it had given place to a Baptist church. I
confess I should have liked to occupy its pulpit for one Sabbath day.
To-morrow we are to spend at Clifton, the beautiful environ of Bristol,
and shall most likely write you again.
Yours affectionately,
J.O.C.
Letter 9.
BRISTOL.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
Clifton and the Hot Wells are the suburbs of this city, extending along
for a mile or two on the banks of the Avon. One mile below the city the
Avon passes between the rocks which are known as St. Vincent's on the
one side, and Leigh Woods upon the opposite one. These rocks are amongst
the sublimities of nature, and the Avon for about three miles presents
the wildest and sweetest bit of scenery imaginable. These cliffs have
been for ages the admiration of all beholders, and though thousands of
tons are taken from the quarries every year, yet the inhabitants say
that no great change takes place in their appearance. The Avon has a
prodigious rise of tide at Bristol, and at low water the bed of the
river is a mere brook, with immense banks of mud. The country all around
is exquisitely attractive, and affords us an idea of cultivation and
adornment beyond what we are accustomed to at home. In these rocks are
found fine crystals, which are known every where as Bristol diamonds. We
obtained some specimens, which reminded us of the crystals so frequently
seen at Little Falls, on the Mohawk. The great celebrity of the Hot
Wells is chiefly owing to a hot spring, which issues from the rock, and
possesses valuable medical qualities.
This spring had a reputation as early as 1480. It discharges about forty
gallons per minute, and was first brought into notice by sailors, who
found it useful for scorbutic disorders. In 1680 it became famous, and a
wealthy merchant rendered it so by a dream. He was afflicted with
diabetes, and dreamed that he was cured by drinking the water of this
spring. He resorted to the imagined remedy, and soon recovered. Its fame
now spread, and, in 1690, the corporation of Bristol took charge of the
spring. We found the water, fresh from the spring, at the temperature of
Fahrenheit 76 deg.. It contains free carbonic acid gas. Its use is seen
chiefly in cases of pulmonary consumption. I suppose it has wrought
wonders in threatening cases. It is the place for an _invalid_ who
_begins to fear_, but it is not possible to "create a soul under the
ribs of death." Unhappily, people in sickness too seldom repair to such
aid as may here be found till the last chances of recovery are
exhausted. I have never seen a spot where I thought the fragile and
delicate in constitution might pass a winter, sheltered from every
storm, more securely than in this place. Tie houses for accommodation
are without end, both at the Hot Wells and at Clifton. This last place
is on the high ground, ascending up to the summit of the rocks, where
you enter on a noble campus known as Durdham Down. This extends for some
three or four miles, and is skirted by charming villages, which render
the environs of Bristol so far-famed for beauty.
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19