_London, April 14, 1827._
[177] St. Oswyn’s tomb was at Tynemouth Priory.
[178] There is an old picturesque fishing town, called Callercoats, in
the direct road between the seat of the Delavals and Tynemouth abbey.
[179] The whipping described in this ballad was performed within about
three quarters of a mile from the entrance of the Abbey, within
hearing and sight of the astonished “halie monckes.”
[180] The nearest road from Delaval Castle to Tynemouth Abbey is a
fine sandy beach, beaten hard by the ceaseless dash of the German
Ocean wave.
* * * * *
Vol. I.--20.
[Illustration: ~On Chatham Hill.~]
This sketch, in the pocket-book of an artist, suddenly startled
recollection to the April of my life--the season of sunshine hopes, and
stormy fears--when each hour was a birth-time of thought, and every new
scene was the birth-place of a new feeling. The drawing carried me back
to an October morning in 1797, when I eagerly set off on an errand to
Boughton-hill, near Canterbury, for the sake of seeing the country on
that side of Chatham for the first time. The day was cloudy, with gales
of wind. I reached Chatham-hill, and stood close to this sign, looking
over the flood of the Medway to the Nore, intently peering for a further
sea-view. Flashes of fire suddenly gleamed in the dim distance, and I
heard the report of cannon. Until then, such sounds from the bosom of
the watery element were unknown to me, and they came upon my ear with
indescribable solemnity. We were at war with France; and supposing there
was a battle between two fleets off the coast, my heart beat high; my
thoughts were anxious, and my eyes strained with the hope of catching
something of the scene I imagined. The firing was from the fleet at the
Nore, in expectation of a royal review. The king was then proceeding
from Greenwich to Sheerness, in the royal yacht, attended by the lords
of the admiralty, to go on board the Dutch ships captured by lord
Duncan, at the battle of Camperdown.[181] On my return to Chatham, the
sign of “the Star” was surrounded by sailors, who, with their shipmates
inside the house, were drinking grog out of pewter-pots and earthen
basins, and vociferating “Rule Britannia.”
The following year, on the evening of a glorious summer’s day, I found
refuge in this house from the greatest storm I had then seen. It came
with gusts of wind and peals of thunder from the sea. Standing at the
bow-window, I watched the lightning sheeting the horizon, making visible
the buried objects in the black gloom, and forking fearfully down, while
the rain fell in torrents, and the trees bent before the furious tempest
like rushes. The elements quickly ceased their strife, the moon broke
out, and in a few minutes there was
The spacious firmament on high,
And all the blue ethereal sky
And spangled heavens, a shining frame.
The “Star” in war time was the constant scene of naval and military
orgies, and therefore rather repelled than courted other visitants. It
is now a respectable inn and a stage for the refreshment of coach
travellers. During a hasty trip to Canterbury a short time ago, Mr.
Samuel Williams stopped there long enough to select its sign, and the
character of the view beyond it, as “a bit” for his pencil, which I, in
turn, seized on, and he has engraved it as a decoration for the _Table
Book_.
My readers were instructed at the outset of the work that, if they
allowed me to please myself, we might all be pleased in turn. If I am
sometimes not their most faithful, I am never otherwise than their most
sincere servant; and therefore I add that I am not always gratified by
what gratifies generally, and I have, in this instance, presented a
small matter of my particular liking. I would have done better if I
could. There are times when my mind foils and breaks down suddenly--when
I can no more think or write than a cripple can run: at other times it
carries me off from what I ought to do, and sets me to something the
very negative to what I wish. I then become, as it were, possessed; an
untamable spirit has its will of me in spite of myself:--what I have
omitted, or done, in the present instance, illustrates the fact.
*
[181] Owing to adverse winds, his majesty could not get farther than
the Hope.
* * * * *