solemn glow over the entire village. The cottages around are very humble
residences. The inn is a small but cosy affair, and is not destitute of
much real comfort. There is the abbey at the water side, and opposite
the rocky hill bank and hanging wood. The access to the abbey is poor,
but this is quite forgotten as you enter this glorious sanctuary of
other days. There are few ancient edifices in Great Britain, now in
ruins, which attract so much attention from the curious traveller as
Tintern Abbey, on the Wye.
The beauty of the river is proverbial, yet has never been adequately
described; but the best idea of its diversified charms may be gathered
from "Gilpin's Picturesque Scenery and Observations upon the Wye."
Tintern was a Cistercian abbey, and was founded in 1131, by Walter de
Clare, and dedicated to St. Mary on its completion in 1287. The dress of
the Cistercians was a white cassock, with a narrow scapulary, and over
that a black gown, when they went abroad, but a white one when they went
to church. They were called white monks, from the color of their habit.
The dimensions of this church are as follows: length, two hundred and
twenty-eight feet, and the transept one hundred and fifty feet long;
breadth of the aisles, each eighteen feet. There are in the sides ten
arches; between each column fifteen feet, which is the span of the
arches.
The interior of this monastery presents the best specimen of Gothic
architecture in England. The east window is a most magnificent affair,
sixty-four feet high, and calls forth universal admiration. The very
insignificant doorway was, no question, intended by the architect to
form a strong contrast with the elevation of the roof. The abbey is
cruciform; its ruins are perfect as to the grand outline; and I am sure
we should like to pass the entire day within this venerable fane. The
walls of the tower are seventy-two feet high, and covered with ivy,
moss, and lichens, but show no indications of decay.
Very few Americans visit this region; but I think that they can see
nothing in England at all comparable to this ruin.
Among the relics that are to be seen here is the effigy of a knight in
chain mail, the remains of a virgin and child, and the head of a shaven
friar. Here, too, are several monkish tombstones.
We were obliged to resume our places in the carriage, and ride some
twelve miles, in order to visit the finest baronial ruins in the
kingdom. We reached the quiet little village of Ragland, and, putting
up our horses, gave orders for dinner, and then repaired to the castle,
which we found near by, crowning a slight eminence with its stately
towers. We approached through a grove of truly venerable oaks and elms,
and all at once we were at the warder's gate; and entering into the
terrace, formerly the eastern court, a most splendid vision burst upon
our sight. Here are three pentagonal towers, with machicolated
battlements, and showing all the marks of war. This is the most perfect
part of the ruin, and seems likely to stand for ages. The ivy clusters
over the towers most gracefully. Off to the left, insulated by a moat,
stands the remains of a tower, once the citadel. We advance through the
Gothic portal into the second court, and here are shafts and arches, and
grooves through which the portcullis used to present itself to the
besiegers. Next is the paved court, where once were the men at arms with
iron tread; now a velvet lawn is seen, and many a vigorous tree is
spreading its roots. Here we get a fine view of the majestic window of
the hall of state. Through an arch is the way to the kitchen. The
fireplace has a span of thirteen feet, and is made of two stones. Then
we come to the baron's hall, of noble dimensions. On the walls are the
stone sculptured arms of the Marquis of Worcester. The chapel was a
narrow room; and, nearly concealed by ivy, are two effigies. The
south-west tower contained the apartments occupied by Charles I. after
the battle of Naseby, in 1645. The grand terrace is in tolerable order,
and you proceed to it by a bridge. We ascended the towers and gazed on
majesty in ruins. We saw nothing on the continent finer than Ragland
Castle. The prospect from the great tower is the finest that can be
imagined, and I almost fear to tell you its extent.
You may imagine that we felt unusually interested at this place, from
the fact that here the Marquis of Worcester invented the steam engine.
The castle was devastated by the parliamentary troops under Fairfax,
having surrendered in 1646. The defence was gallant, but unavailing.
The warder of the castle is a very gentlemanly man. He took us into his
apartments in one of the towers, and we found that he was a very
respectable amateur in painting. Some of his oil paintings were very
creditable. An infant girl, of great beauty, his daughter, answered to
the name of Blanche Castle May, and was the first-born child under that
roof since its desolation.
Here, as well as at Tintern Abbey, I obtained ivy roots for Mr. Hall,
and hope to see them flourishing on the walls of his beautiful stone
house in Rhode Island.
We retired slowly from this romantic ruin, and at the hotel found an
excellent dinner. One dish was fit for a king--sewen, young salmon, or a
species of salmon, for there is much dispute among naturalists as to the
identity of these fish. Any how, they are fine beyond any fish. They
were about two and a quarter pounds each, and are so delicate that they
do not well bear transportation.
We returned to Chepstow that evening, having a fine ride through a new
piece of scenery, and were quite ready for a sound night's rest. In the
morning we looked at the castle in Chepstow, which is remarkably fine,
and is of extreme antiquity; some of the arches of the castle chapel
indicating clearly a Saxon origin. One of the priestly legends is that
this chapel was built by Longinus, a Jew, and father of the soldier who
pierced the side of Christ. This was the belief of the ancient
population of this charming region.
All around this town Roman coins are frequently turned up; and I
obtained from a gentleman a very well-preserved Caesar silver coin, dug
up a day or two before.
This castle was for more than twenty years the prison home of Henry
Marten, one of the regicides. He is buried in the parish church, and in
the north transept is the following acrostical epitaph which he composed
for his monument:--
Here, September 9, 1680,
was buried
A TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN,
Who in Berkshire was well known
To love his country's freedom 'bove his own;
But being immured full twenty year,
Had time to write, as doth appear.
HIS EPITAPH.
Here or elsewhere (all's one to you, to me)
Earth, air, or water gripes my ghostly dust
None know how soon to be by fire set free;
Reader, if you an old-tried rule will trust,
you will gladly do and suffer what you must.
My time was spent in serving you, and you,
And death's my pay, it seems, and welcome, too;
Revenge destroying but itself, while I
To birds of prey leave my old cage, and fly;
Examples preach t' the eye; care then, (mine says,)
Not how you end, but how you spend your days.
Colonel Henry Marten was one of the noble assertors of English liberty
who dared to oppose a weak, but cruel and capricious tyrant. If ever a
monarch was a tyrant and despot, it was the first Charles. No American
citizen who thinks that Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, John Hancock,
Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and George Washington were praiseworthy
for the resistance which they offered to the aggressions of George III.,
can for one moment fail to reverence Eliot, Hampden, Marten, Whalley,
Ludlow, Pym, and Cromwell for their noble opposition to Charles and his
tormentor general, that incarnation of sanctimonious cruelty, Archbishop
Laud. It is one of the signs that a "good time is coming" that public
opinion in England, as well as in America, is fast setting in favor of
Cromwell and his noble coadjutors. They opposed measures rather than
men; and what proves that they were right in expelling the Stuarts from
power is the fact that when, by infatuation, "the fated race" was
restored, and again played over former pranks, the people had to oust
the family in 1688, and thus by another national verdict confirm the
wisdom and patriotism of the men who had formerly dared to teach a
tyrant the rights of freemen. Marten was a noble spirit, but his morals
were not as correct as those of his political associates.
The game now played by the advocates of high church and state notions in
England and America is to represent the republican party as illiterate
and narrow minded. A viler falsehood was never sworn to at the Old
Bailey. The leading men of the party who opposed the royal tyrant were
scholars, and ripe ones. If any man doubts it, let him read their
speeches, peruse their lives, and study their writings. Prynne did not
lose his acquirements nor his brains when Charles and Laud cropped his
ears, and, loving the sport, came back for a second harvest, and
"grubbed out the stumps" remaining from the first operation. Read his
folios, quartoes, and octavoes, and from one of these men estimate the
others. If you want to know the real character of Cromwell and his
party, as to their knowledge and love of good letters, look at the
patronage which the government gave to learning. Owen was chancellor of
Oxford, Milton and Thurlow were secretaries, and their friends were
called into public life. Were these men barbarians and enemies to
learning? The men who were educated at Oxford and Cambridge at this
period were the ornaments of learning and religion for the next forty
years. The day has gone by forever when Cromwell's name can be used as
synonymous with fraud, ignorance, and hypocrisy. Kings and prelates may
hate him, but a liberty-loving world will enshrine his character in the
sanctuary of grateful hearts and faithful memories.
After crossing the Severn at the old Passage, or Aust, where it is two
miles wide, we took carriage to Bristol. This parish of Aust gave a
church living to the immortal Wickliffe, who received the appointment
from Edward III.
The drive to the city was a rich enjoyment. Every acre is in the highest
cultivation, and the charming villas of the merchant princes of Bristol
make the eleven miles an entire garden scene.
Four miles from the city we came to Henbury, regarded by the citizens as
their finest suburban spot. It is indeed beautiful. There are here about
a dozen exquisite cottages, built in 1811, by Mr. Harford, who lives in
Blaize Castle. The founder's object was purely benevolent--to provide a
comfortable asylum for aged females, who had income enough to support
them, if only relieved from house rent. The forms of these cottages are
all different, but they were the earliest specimens in our times of the
adoption of the old Elizabethan style. They are perfect _bijoux_, and
the taste displayed in the shrubberies is very great.
Blaize Castle is a fine building, and surrounded by noble woods. The
castle is a circle, flanked With three round towers.
I ought not to omit that we had on this trip the pleasure of being
accompanied by a gentleman from Bristol, whose taste and perfect
knowledge of the ground afforded us much gratification. I allude, to Mr.
Dix, author of "Pen and Ink Sketches," which formerly appeared in the
Boston Atlas. Mr. Dix was with us at Windsor Castle, and when he heard
from Weld French or George Vanderbilt that Robinson's birthday would
occur shortly, he noted it, and sent James the following pretty lines,
which reached him May 15th, in Paris. I think you will be pleased with
them.
TO JAMES A. ROBINSON.
When wandering neath old Windsor's towers
We laughed away the sunny hours,
You asked me for a simple rhyme;
So now accept this birthday chime.
No poet I--the "gift divine"
Ne'er was, and never will be, mine;
But take these couplets, which impart
The anxious wishes of my heart,
In place of more aspiring lay,
To greet you on your natal day.
Boy of that country of the brave,
Beyond the Atlantic's western wave,
I, dweller in the motherland,
A welcome give with heart and hand;
And on your birthday breathe a prayer
That you may every blessing share;
That your world journey may be blest
With all that may prepare you best
For the approaching eve of age--
The end of mortal pilgrimage.
Upon your brow of youthful bloom
I would not cast a shade of gloom;
Yet did I say that life will ever
Flow onward like a placid river,
With only sunshine on its breast,
That ne'er 'twill be by storms distressed,
I should but flatter to deceive,
And but a web of falsehood weave.
Yet, checkered though life's path may seem,
Life's pleasures are not _all_ a dream.
What shall I wish you? I would fain
That earthly greatness you may gain;
But if that guerdon is not sent,
Be with some humble lot content;
And let this truth be understood--
Few can be great, _all may_ be good.
Power, pomp, ambition, envy, pride,
Wrecked barks adown life's stream may glide,
Ruined by some fierce passion throe,
E'er, reckless, o'er Time's brink they go;
But if fair virtue grasps the helm,
Nor storm nor wave can overwhelm.
That many happy years be yours:
Seek truth which every good insures;
Press on, though clouds may intervene
And for a moment veil the scene.
Think of the great ones of your land,
And, like them, strive with heart and hand
To leave a name, when you depart,
Which shall be dear to many a heart.
Determine in life's early morn
All good to prize, all ill to scorn,
And aim to live and die as one
Worthy the land of Washington!
Yours affectionately,
J.O.C.
Letter 54.
LIVERPOOL.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
Well, this looks like the back track; and here we are at the Adelphi,
ready to take our passage in the noble Atlantic, which is as good as new
again, and will sail on the twenty-third. We left Bristol with much
regret, for we there have formed acquaintances which we shall often
remember with affection and gratitude; and I wish we could meet them in
America, and have an opportunity to reciprocate some of the many
kindnesses we met with at their hands. We took the railroad for
Cheltenham, and passed through some charming country before we reached
the old city of Gloucester. On our left were the flint towers of
Berkeley Castle, where the second Edward was so savagely murdered by his
wife's command.
Cheltenham is about forty miles from the city of Bristol, and we found
it all that Dr. C. had described it--a very nice modern town indeed. It
is like our Saratoga, but much more beautiful. The population is about
thirty thousand, and the strangers who resort there in the season are
probably five thousand more. The waters are in high repute, and are
regarded as strongly cathartic. The buildings are very fine, and the
entire air of the place is unlike any thing we have seen in England.
Other places seem old. This is new, and looks fresh and American in that
respect, but vastly more elegant and permanent than our towns usually
are. We had very kind attentions here from the Rev. Mr. Gilby, the
rector of the parish church, and who strongly urged us to stay over the
day; but we resumed the cars, got to Birmingham at ten o'clock, and went
to our old quarters at the Hen and Chickens. The next day we devoted to
the survey of this vast toy shop. Our greatest gratification was at the
royal _papier mache_ and japan works of Jennens & Bettridge. To this
firm we had introductions, and we went through every department of the
establishment. When we came to the show-rooms we were all tempted by the
beauty of the finished wares, and made several purchases. Here, too, are
other manufactories for pins and pens; but I must pass them by. We
called on the Rev. John Angell James, who has lived here so long, and
made a world-wide reputation. He looks very hearty and vigorous, and
shows no signs of age. He has lived in his house forty-five years. We
obtained his autograph. We also called on Rev. Mr. Swan, an old friend
of the doctor in early days, and had a pleasant chat. Mr. Swan was once
a professor in the college at Serampore, in India. He is full of life
and animation; and it seems to me that people here are more vivacious
and sprightly than with us--old folks and middle-aged ones certainly
are. We took dinner with Mr. Vanwart, brother-in-law to Washington
Irving, and shall not soon forget the elegant hospitality of his
mansion. He resides about two miles from the town; and his lawn gave us
a fine view of the English thrush and blackbird, of which birds there
were plenty on the grass. It was so cold that we had to have fires,
although the 19th of July. Mr. Vanwart was one of the saved, when the
Atlantic was lost in the Sound, November 26, 1846; and he made the
kindest inquiries after you and the family, and said that when he next
visited America he should find you out. That evening we reached
Liverpool, and had a quiet Sabbath, but a very stormy one. It rained
harder than any day since we have been abroad. We attended church in the
morning, and heard a very eloquent sermon from Mr. Birrel, and Dr. C.
preached for him at night. The Europa arrived on this day, and we met
friends from Boston--among others the Rev. Dr. Peck. On Monday we went
to Chester, the finest old city in England, with a population of
twenty-four thousand. It claims an antiquity equal to any city in the
world; for they say it was founded by the grandson of Japhet, two
hundred and forty years after the flood! Any how, it was great in Roman
days--great in the days of Alfred. No town in the country has a more
thorough history; and we have two very interesting octavoes filled with
it, and richly illustrated with antique engravings. It is a walled city,
and has undergone many sieges and blockades. The castle has great
celebrity, and is of Norman origin. Its walls are one mile and three
fourths in length, and there are four great gates. The bridge over the
Dee has seven arches, and is as old as the Norman conquest. The
cathedral was built in the days of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. It is
composed of red stone, and has a fine front. The chapter-house in the
cloisters is universally admired by antiquarians. We went into one very
old church, which was undergoing restoration. The town, like Berne, has
rows in front of the houses, supported by pillars so that, in shopping,
you walk under covered galleries.
We returned to Liverpool, and dined with a gentleman who has been very
polite to us--Mr. Thomas Davies, a celebrated maker of gold watches.
From him I obtained one, preferring an English to a Swiss timepiece.
Here we saw the cultivation of plants in the house in greater perfection
than I recollect elsewhere.
To-morrow we are to take our departure; and, though very glad to return
home, yet I feel sorry at leaving a country where there is so much that
is excellent and noble and beautiful. I have learnt, certainly, that
England and America have too much in common to justify the indulgence
of hatred and prejudice; and I find the tone of feeling here, among wise
and-good people, very kind towards America. I have rarely heard a
reflection upon our country, excepting upon our slavery. That they _must
talk_ about; and they are a little like the man who, having just got rid
of the irritable affection supposed to trouble the North Britons, could
not for his life help speaking of sulphur. An Englishman is sure to tell
you that he is free from this sin--yes, washed, but scarcely dry.
Our hotel is filling up with Americans, and, we expect to meet many
friends on board the Atlantic. I am much pleased with the appearance of
Captain West; he looks every inch an admiral. And now, my dear fellow, I
shall see you, perhaps, before you read my letter; but I have kept my
promise to tell you what we saw and did. Of course many things will
occur to our memories when we get home, and will furnish matter for
chitchat which I hope soon to have with you, as in days of old. Well,
you are now at the business of life, and I am yet a little longer to
spend my time in preparation for it. I wonder how we shall come out,
Charley? But time will tell, and let us do our best.
Yours affectionately,
WELD.
P.S. I must not forget to tell you that, while at Bristol, the doctor
and I ran up to Windsor to see the royal agricultural exhibition, held
this year in the Home Park. James stopped with our friends, and we were
anxious to see the great show of England in her farming interest. The
display was very great, and the cattle were wonderfully fine in all the
departments--Durham, Hereford, Devons, and Channel Island. The last are
very nice animals for a paddock, and give good milk. The horses were
good; and I longed to bring home one or two that I saw, and felt
strongly tempted. But the sheep and swine were the most remarkable
things there. Really, we know little about sheep. They are monstrous,
and yet very symmetrical and beautiful; whilst there are pigs, strange
as you may think it, that have established high claims to beauty and
perfection. I greatly preferred the Sussex breed to any other. Never was
a town so crowded as this same Windsor. Thousands upon thousands were
flocking into it; and how and where they fed I cannot divine. Money
seemed useless, and waiters hardly looked at half crowns for retaining
fees.
Letter 55.
NEW YORK, August 3,1851.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
We are, through the goodness of Providence, safely returned. We had a
good voyage, in a capital ship, and under the charge of as good a
captain as ever sailed the ocean. Our passengers were about one hundred
and thirty in number, and very agreeable--some few were our old
voyagers in the Arctic. With an exception or two, our way was as
pleasant as it could have been; and there were some cheerful spirits
that knew how to create sunshine at all hours. I cannot tell what
travellers can desire in a steamer which they will not find in the
Collins line. It seems to us that we have had the full worth of the
money paid for passage. How different it is to come to New York in ten
days, instead of being on the ocean for sixty-four days, as I have in a
sailing packet! Well, this saving of time and feelings is worth the
difference of the passage price. I am at a loss to understand how
Americans who have to cross the ocean should think of supporting the
English steamers in preference to our own superior ships. The influence
of every English agent, of course, goes out in behalf of the old line;
and all sorts of stories are told about winter passages, the importance
of boats especially built for strength, and the advantages of
experience. Now, the history of the American line is a perfect
refutation of all this twaddle. The truth is, that all voyaging is
connected with exposedness to some danger; and up to this moment the
Americans have had, in all their ocean steam voyages, the full measure
of success. They have lost no boat, they have sacrificed no lives, and
they present a fleet of steamships the like of which the world cannot
equal. Whenever an American citizen takes his passage in a foreign
steamer, and an American one is at hand, he tacitly confesses the
superiority of other lands, in ocean navigation, to his own country, and
he contributes his full share to depress American enterprise, and aids
so far as he can to insure its failure. The eyes of the English nation
are upon our ships; and if we desire the spread of our national fame, we
should, every man of us, labor to sustain our own steamers and
propellers. And the government of our country should strenuously guard
the interests of this available arm of national defence; and the country
at large, would certainly sustain Congress in liberal support of this
truly American enterprise.