PAINTINGS.—CROMWELL.—PASTORAL SHIPS.—FAMILY PORTRAITS AND DISTANT
RELATIONS.—FAMILY APARTMENTS.—PERSONAL CLEANLINESS.—THE WREKIN.
The pictures which most interested me were portraits of Cromwell and
Charles, one of Rubens, two of very beautiful women of the family, by
Sir Peter Lely, a female face by Carlo Dolci, and two or three little
things by Rubens. The portrait of Cromwell appears as if he might have
sat for it, as, if I remember rightly, is asserted. It looks like one’s
idea of him, but not in the best light of his character—a melancholy,
sour, deep, stern face.
There is a large landscape representing a brook tumbling over a rock
into the sea, on which is a fleet of shipping. The story is, that
it was painted by a French artist on a visit here, and when first
exhibited had, in place of the sea, a broad meadow through which the
brook meandered. Lady —— suggested that a few sheep on the broad
green ground of the meadow would be a pleasing addition. “Sheeps! mi
lady?” said the chagrined artist, “suppose you better like it with
sheeps, I shall make de sheeps;” and so he painted a blue sea over the
green meadow, and abruptly embouched his brook into it, that he might
appropriately gratify Lady ——’s maritime penchant.
[Sidenote: _INTERIOR DECORATIONS._]
Among the family portraits one was shown having a title that sounded
familiarly to us, and after a moment’s thought we both remembered
it to be that of the single nobleman whom an antiquarian friend had
informed us that our family had been, long before its emigration with
the Plymouth Pilgrims, by marriage connected with. If it had been a
Scotch castle, we might perhaps have felt ourselves a good deal more
at home in consequence. It was an odd coincidence, and made us realize
the relationship of our democracy even to aristocratic England quite
vividly.[23]
[23] In speaking of our relationship as a nation to England, I do not
mean to ignore our relationship also to other nations. I think Mr.
Robinson has very conclusively proved that, taking the people of the
United States altogether, the majority are by no means of Anglo-Saxon
origin.
In consideration of this I think I may say a few words of the private
apartments of the family, through nearly all which, apparently,
we were shown. They were comparatively small, not larger, or more
numerous, or probably as _expensively_ furnished as those of many of
our wealthy New York mercantile families; but some of them were very
delightful, and would be most tempting of covetousness to a man of
domestic tastes or to a lover of art or of literary ease. Generally
there was most exquisite taste evident in colours and arrangements and
forms of furniture, and there were proofs of high artistic skill in
some members of the family, as well as a general love and appreciation
of the beautiful and the excellent. Some of the rooms were painted
in very high colours, deep blue and scarlet and gold, and in bizarre
figures and lines. I hardly could tell how it would please me if I
were accustomed to it, but I did not much admire it at first sight; it
did not seem English or home-like. It is just the thing for New York
though, and I have no doubt you’ll soon see the fashion introduced
there, and dining-rooms, dressing-rooms, counting-rooms, and steamboat
state-rooms all equally flaring.
The bed-chambers and dressing-rooms were furnished to look exceedingly
cosy and comfortable, but there was nothing very remarkable about them,
except, perhaps, the immense preparation made for washing the person.
I confess if I had been quartered in one of them, I should have needed
all my Yankee capabilities to guess in what way I could make a good use
of it all.
There is a story told of two members of our legislature that came
together from “the rural districts,” and were fellow-lodgers. One of
them was rather mortified by the rough appearance of his companion who
was of the “bone-and-sinew” sort, and by way of opening a conversation
in which he could give him a few hints, complained of the necessity
which a Representative was under to pay so much for “washing.” “How
often do you shift?” said the Hon. Simon Pure. “Why, of course I have
to change my linen every day,” he answered. “You do?” responded his
unabashed friend. “Why, what an awful dirty man you must be! I can
always make mine last a week.”
Among the other bedrooms there were two with their beds which had been
occupied by kings. I do not recollect any thing peculiar in their
appearance.
The ball-room, or ancient banqueting-room, was a grand hall (120 feet
long, I should think), with a good deal of interesting old furniture,
armour, relics, &c. It also contained billiard-tables, and other
conveniences for in-door exercise. A secret door, cut through the
old oak wainscot which lined its wall, admitted us to the private
apartments.
[Sidenote: _A BORDER FORTRESS._]
We peeped into a kind of broad well into which prisoners used to be
lowered like butter for safe keeping, and ascended to the battlements
of one of the towers, from which there is a very extensive and
beautiful view, extending it is said into sixteen counties. A gauzy
blue swelling on the horizon was pointed to as the _Wrekin_, a high
mountain—the highest in midland England; hence the generous old toast,
“To all around the Wrekin.” We were let out through a narrow postern,
which gave us an opportunity to see the thickness of the wall: it was
ten feet, and in some parts it was said to be sixteen,—of solid stone
and mortar. The castle was a border fortress of Wales, on the dyke
or ancient military wall between that country and England, remains
of which can be seen running each way from it. It has withstood many
sieges, the last by Cromwell, the effect of whose artillery upon it is
largely manifest within the court. A decree of the long parliament is
on record ordering it to be razed to the ground.