The Church of St. John is outside of the city walls of Chester. Entering
the East gate, we walked awhile under the Rows, bought our tickets for
Eaton Hall and its gardens, and likewise some playthings for the children;
for this old city of Chester seems to me to possess an unusual number of
toy-shops. Finally we took a cab, and drove to the Hall, about four miles
distant, nearly the whole of the way lying through the wooded Park. There
are many sorts of trees, making up a wilderness, which looked not unlike
the woods of our own Concord, only less wild. The English oak is not a
handsome tree, being short and sturdy, with a round, thick mass of
foliage, lying all within its own bounds. It was a showery day. Had there
been any sunshine, there might doubtless have been many beautiful effects
of light and shadow in these woods. We saw one or two herds of deer,
quietly feeding, a hundred yards or so distant. They appeared to be
somewhat wilder than cattle, but, I think, not much wilder than sheep.
Their ancestors have probably been in a half-domesticated state, receiving
food at the hands of man, in winter, for centuries. There is a kind of
poetry in this, quite as much as if they were really wild deer, such as
their forefathers were, when Hugh Lupus used to hunt them.
Our miserable cab drew up at the steps of Eaton Hall, and, ascending under
the portico, the door swung silently open, and we were received very
civilly by two old men--one, a tall footman in livery; the other, of
higher grade, in plain clothes. The entrance-hall is very spacious, and
the floor is tessellated or somehow inlaid with marble. There was statuary
in marble on the floor, and in niches stood several figures in antique
armor, of various dates; some with lances, and others with battle-axes and
swords. There was a two-handed sword, as much as six feet long; but not
nearly so ponderous as I have supposed this kind of weapon to be, from
reading of it. I could easily have brandished it.
The plainly drest old man now led us into a long corridor, which goes, I
think, the whole length of the house, about five hundred feet, arched all
the way, and lengthened interminably by a looking-glass at the end, in
which I saw our own party approaching like a party of strangers. But I
have so often seen this effect produced in dry-goods stores and elsewhere,
that I was not much imprest. There were family portraits and other
pictures, and likewise pieces of statuary, along this arched corridor; and
it communicated with a chapel with a scriptural altar-piece, copied from
Rubens, and a picture of St. Michael and the Dragon, and two, or perhaps
three, richly painted windows. Everything here is entirely new and fresh,
this part having been repaired, and never yet inhabited by the family.
This brand-newness makes it much less effective than if it had been lived
in; and I felt pretty much as if I were strolling through any other
renewed house. After all, the utmost force of man can do positively very
little toward making grand things or beautiful things. The imagination can
do so much more, merely on shutting one's eyes, that the actual effect
seems meager; so that a new house, unassociated with the past, is
exceedingly unsatisfactory, especially when you have heard that the wealth
and skill of man has here done its best. Besides, the rooms, as we saw
them, did not look by any means their best, the carpets not being down,
and the furniture being covered with protective envelops. However, rooms
can not be seen to advantage by daylight; it being altogether essential to
the effect, that they should be illuminated by artificial light, which
takes them somewhat out of the region of bare reality. Nevertheless, there
was undoubtedly great splendor--for the details of which I refer to the
guide-book. Among the family portraits, there was one of a lady famous for
her beautiful hand; and she was holding it up to notice in the funniest
way--and very beautiful it certainly was. The private apartments of the
family were not shown us. I should think it impossible for the owner of
this house to imbue it with his personality to such a degree as to feel it
to be his home. It must be like a small lobster in a shell much too large
for him.
After seeing what was to be seen of the rooms, we visited the gardens, in
which are noble conservatories and hot-houses, containing all manner of
rare and beautiful flowers, and tropical fruits. I noticed some large
pines, looking as if they were really made of gold. The gardener
(under-gardener I suppose he was) who showed this part of the spectacle
was very intelligent as well as kindly, and seemed to take an interest in
his business. He gave S---- a purple everlasting flower, which will endure
a great many years, as a memento of our visit to Eaton Hall. Finally, we
took a view of the front of the edifice, which is very fine, and much more
satisfactory than the interior--and returned to Chester.
HOLLAND HOUSE [Footnote: From "Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent
British Poets."]