Mr. Spiers tried to get us admittance to the Bodleian Library; but this
is just the moment when it is closed for the purpose of being cleaned; so
we missed seeing the principal halls of this library, and were only
admitted into what was called the Picture Gallery. This, however,
satisfied all my desires, so far as the backs of books are concerned, for
they extend through a gallery, running round three sides of a quadrangle,
making an aggregate length of more than four hundred feet,--a solid array
of bookcases, full of books, within a protection of open iron-work. Up
and down the gallery there are models of classic temples; and about
midway in its extent stands a brass statue of Earl Pembroke, who was
Chancellor of the University in James I's time; not in scholarly garb,
however, but in plate and mail, looking indeed like a thunderbolt of war.
I rapped him with my knuckles, and he seemed to be solid metal, though, I
should imagine, hollow at heart. A thing which interested me very much
was the lantern of Guy Fawkes. It was once tinned, no doubt, but is now
nothing but rusty iron, partly broken. As this is called the Picture
Gallery, I must not forget the pictures, which are ranged in long
succession over the bookcases, and include almost all Englishmen whom the
world has ever heard of, whether in statesmanship or literature, I saw a
canvas on which had once been a lovely and unique portrait of Mary of
Scotland; but it was consigned to a picture-cleaner to be cleansed, and,
discovering that it was painted over another picture, he had the
curiosity to clean poor Mary quite away, thus revealing a wishy-washy
woman's face, which now hangs in the gallery. I am so tired of seeing
notable things that I almost wish that whatever else is remarkable in
Oxford could be obliterated in some similar manner.