Nos patriæ fines, et dulcia linquimus arva;
Nos patriam fugimus.
VIRGIL.
Round the wide world in banishment we roam,
Forc'd from our pleasing fields and happy home.
DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION.
Sad and sorrowful ever is the parting hour when beloved friends
separate, perchance never more to meet again! But oh, how sad must that
separation prove if not accompanied with the consoling hope--"we yet
shall meet again!" The Duke of Tyrconnel was then departing from his
beloved wife and darling daughter, yet no enlivening hope allayed the
feverish throbbing of his heart, with the bland promise, "we yet shall
meet again!" Deep, bitter, and gloomy were the parting pangs and
presages when these affectionate friends separated, destined, perchance,
never more to meet! Still manfully the duke concealed the wound which
rankled in his breast, and with promptitude made ready to follow the
fallen fortune of his fallen master. He recommended that the duchess
should, without procrastination, depart for England, and retire thence
to the continent, until such time as the political tempest which was
raging should subside. It was also proposed that the duke and duchess
should at the same time depart for their respective destinations, and
the determination, upon the same day it was resolved on, was carried
into effect. The plan was, that the duchess, Lady Adelaide, Ladies
Letitia and Lucy, escorted by Sir Patricius Placebo, should proceed to
England, _viâ_, or rather _mari_, to Parkgate, thence journey onward to
Chester, only twelve miles distant, remain there a few days with their
kind friends Doctor Cartwright, bishop of Chester, and his lady; and
next set off for the most convenient port to embark for France. Thence
make a _detoùr_ to the Netherlands, and take up their residence in the
city of Brussels, where the Duchess d'Aremberg, Adelaide's godmother,
resided.
The duke accompanied his family to the packet which was to convey them
from their native shores, possibly for ever! The parting scene was
exceedingly affecting, the duchess, rallying all her fortitude, was
enabled to address the duke ere they fondly embraced and parted, in
these empassioned words:--"Go forth, my dear lord!" said the duchess.
"Go, my beloved lord, where every filial tie calls your attendance,
where glory, your country, and your king, demand your presence. Go, and
the god of battles be your guide and guard! But the wife of Tyrconnel
breathes no sigh--the wife of Tyrconnel sheds no tear at her loved
lord's departure. Had he remained ingloriously at home then there would
have been too ample cause for lamentation; the blush of every feeling
cheek, and the throb of every manly heart, would have revolted at
conduct so base and selfish. But, thank heaven, this is not--it could
not be! Go forth then, my dearest lord, and the blessings of a wife and
of a mother ever attend thee!"
Adelaide, however, could not command those feelings which were
instinctive to her sensitive feelings, she sobbed and wept deep and
bitterly; she endeavoured to check the rooted sorrow which was preying
on her heart, but the attempt was all in vain, her affection burst forth
more strongly from her endeavour to counteract it; and tears of sorrow
for her father's departure flowed in deep succession. The duke was
highly affected with this parting scene; yet sternly checking himself,
he said:--"My dearest Adelaide this must not be; virtue carried to
excess--honour carried to excess, lose all their original intrinsic
worth. Nay, even religion may be transmuted into persecution; and
eternal silence and seclusion from the world be considered as its divine
attributes, so that each shall lose all the original stamp of their
native worth. I therefore tell you, my dearest daughter, that this must
not be; I shall, with the permission of divine providence, so soon as it
shall be in my power, rejoin you all in a foreign land upon my return
from attending my revered monarch to Saint Germains. And, my beloved,
although we shall have lost our rank, and reside as persons quite
unknown--perhaps wholly unnoticed; yet, my dearest Adelaide, we shall
nevertheless retain that which is much dearer to the human breast,
self-esteem, and social love, and social leisure, and these undisturbed
by courtly crowds, unchanged by time or circumstance, or loss of power.
These social ties too well I know, my dearest child, are dearer to thee
than wealth, rank, pomp, and power; and believe me truly we shall feel
far happier than ever we felt before. So I pray thee, dearest Adelaide,
that we may have no more of sorrow or repining, for all will yet be
well!"
The duke affectionately embraced his duchess, Adelaide, and his sisters,
and cordially shook hands with Sir Patricius Placebo; when having
descended the side of the vessel, his Grace jumpt into the boat which
conveyed him to the shore, and entered his carriage which waited for
him, to attend upon the fallen fortunes of his fallen master. When
intimation was given to Sir Patricius that he was to proceed to England,
and take charge of the duchess and family, _certes_ he received the
communication not without some portion of surprise, and of pleasure too
we must admit: "_Jacta est alea, jacta est alea!_" he exclaimed: "The
dye is thrown, so now 'For England Ho!' ha, ha, ha! As Prince Hamlet
says in the play, 'For England Ho!' ehem!--
DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!"
The packet, with all her canvass unfurled, and proudly swelling before a
brisk and favouring breeze, promptly set sail onward in her direct
course for the seaport of Parkgate,[21] in Cheshire. The day was
uncommonly fine, and a warm exhilarating summer sun refulgently shone
forth, richly gilding the expanding sails of the vessel, and with its
genial enlivening rays cheering the voyagers, who sat beneath an awning
upon the deck. By this time Adelaide, pursuant to the monitory parting
injunctions of her father, had become tranquil and composed. While
receding from the beloved shores of her native land, Adelaide was
particularly struck with the romantic headlands and mountains that,
south and north, bounded the horizon--the romantic peninsula of Howth,
the hoary promontory of Wicklow-head, the conic hills "the
Sugar-loaves," so denominated from their peculiar conformation; the long
continuous chain of the Dublin and Wicklow mountains which adorned the
southern point of the horizon, while anon they melted into distant
aërial perspective. Adelaide was at once charmed and delighted with the
scene, which called forth from her pen the following effusion:--
[21] Parkgate _had been_ a seaport of Cheshire for several years;
it is situated at the mouth of the river Dee, ten miles distant
from Chester, and one hundred and ninety-four from London. It has
_now_ ceased to be a port, the entrance to the harbour being
choked by sand banks.
TO HOPE.
Hope dispels the mists of woe,
And with the sun's resplendent glow
Illumes poor wand'rers on their way;
Like polar star, whose argent light
Gems the dark diadem of night,
And sheds a heav'nly guiding ray.
Hope helms the bark mid these wild seas,
Where the white swelling billows roar;
The seaman cheers, to brave the breeze,
And steer the prow for Albion's shore.
The sun illumes yon mountain's brow--
'Tis gone, and all's in shadow now!
So flits the vision of the past
Joy's sunny beam is soon o'ercast!
Happy my days while yet a child,
When blandly hope my hours beguiled;
Like green Oäsis on the sun-burnt plain,
And Hope doth still her syren charms retain!
Little of interest, and still less of variety, the reader can reasonably
expect to have narrated in a short sea-voyage from the shores of Erin to
those of Albion; but on the contrary, much tameness, much sameness, and
much monotony, must necessarily be encountered by the voyager.
However, the breeze blew propitious, the weather smiled a settled and
serene summer day; the resplendent azure of the sky was unruffled by a
cloud, the sun was warm, and the scene proved genial and exhilarating,
as onward the gallant bark ploughed her watery way.
A numerous host of seagulls circled in many a merry gambol around the
vessel, then right-joyously plunged into the water, and boomed upon the
billow, while they seemed to rejoice in the summer sun, and sport on
halcyon tide; while ever and anon the Diver (_Colymbus Troile_) plunged
beneath the glassy surface of the sea; a large flock of _Terns_, or
sea-swallows (_sterna hirundo_) congregated about the vessel, flying
around in quick and circling evolutions; now rising from, now sinking in
the deep, in frolic play, then gliding along close to the surface of the
sea; sometimes snapping at the insects in their way, or then suddenly
checking their course, they were seen to dart down upon their finny
prey, which was swallowed in the ascent, without the operation by any
means retarding the progress of their flight.
The gallant vessel throughout the entire day had joyously scudded onward
in a prosperous course before the favouring breeze, and in no longer
space than fifteen hours from her departure from the port of Dublin, had
arrived at the mouth of the river Dee. But the tide was at this time at
ebb, which of necessity retarded the landing of the passengers, as
likewise from other co-operating difficulties, the dangerous sand-banks
which blockade this harbour, and above all, the total _deficit_ of deep
water, a difficulty not to be surmounted, left no choice whatever to the
captain but to cast anchor, and cause the packet to remain at her
moorings to await the morning tide, which, consequently, put the
patience of the voyagers much to task.
The passengers paced the deck to and fro, while they amused themselves
with whatever object caught their eye, ear, or fancy; the operations of
the crew, the passing sail, the darkening cloud, the sea-fowl retiring
to rest, or the slow and hollow murmurs of the receding wave as it
foamed, while it retreated, from the adjoining sands of the winding Dee.
At this time the passengers became highly and deeply interested by
seeing, or imagining that they saw, human beings upon one of the distant
sand-banks, whom the returning tide inevitably would destroy. The
telescope was put in requisition, and this only confirmed their fears;
for in the days we mention, no Dollond, no Ramsden, was in existence; of
course the lenses were dim and defective, and objects, instead of being
duly reflected, were misrepresented to the eye. From the repeated
remonstrances and apprehensions of the passengers the jolly-boat was
lowered into the water, the boatmen briskly plyed the oar, and soon
reached Dee's yellow sands. When lo! those whom they had come to rescue,
as they imagined, from a watery grave, suddenly took wing, and flew
away![22] Yes, gentle reader, too true it is; for the objects which had
attracted the attention and the sympathy of the passengers were no more
nor less than a large company of cormorants,[23] who somewhat hungry no
doubt, had been busily fishing for their supper, and were at the moment
they were disturbed by the approach of the boat, in the very overt act
of despatching their meal upon the banks of the Dee, who thus suddenly
took flight, croaking in hoarse, hollow, and discordant shrieks, their
disappointment at being interrupted from their evening banquet; for
these stern, sullen, and circumspect plunderers, are most greedy and
insatiate gluttons. The great Milton, in his immortal poem, finishes the
sketch of this unrelenting tyrant, by causing Satan to personate the
corvorant,[24] while envying the happiness of our first parents, as
undelighted he surveyed the beauties of Paradise.
"Thence up he flew, and on the tree of life,
The middle tree, and highest there that grew,
Sat like a cormorant; yet not true life
Thereby regain'd, but sat devising death
To them who lived."[25]
[22] This circumstance, as detailed above, actually occurred at
Parkgate several years ago.
[23] Or Corvorant, the _Pelicanus Carbo_ of Linneus.
[24] "In England (according to Willoughby) the cormorants were
hood-winked in the manner of the falcons, until they were let off
to fish, and a leather thong was tied round the lower part of
their necks in order to prevent them swallowing the fish."
Whitlock also mentions, that he had a cast of them _manned_ like
hawks, which would come to hand. He took much pleasure in them,
and observes, "that the best he had was one presented to him by
Mr. Wood, Master of the Corvorants to King Charles I."
[25] Paradise Lost, Book IV.
But it is now full time to say that a calm night succeeded the tranquil
day of our fair heroine's voyage, that the duchess and all the party
enjoyed a most refreshing night's repose. Upon the return of the tide
the raising of the anchors and unfurling of the sails awoke the
passengers, who accordingly arose, and ascended the deck. The morning
was most lovely; it was then between seven and eight o'clock, the tide
was full in, and brilliantly shone forth a July sun, whose cheering
beams illumined the sea and all the surrounding scenery. The vessel was
once more under weigh, they crossed the bar of Chester; and in less than
an hour and a half they were at anchor off Parkgate. The long boat was
put out, and our heroine for the first time trod upon English ground. An
excellent breakfast was prepared for the voyagers at "The Welch Harp,"
and very soon smoked upon the board. The carriages and horses of the
noble personages were landed in the space of about two hours' time, in
perfect safety; for at this period seamen were not so experienced in the
tackle and machinery necessary for this purpose as they are in our own
days.
When breakfast was concluded the noble party sauntered along the
sea-shore, and Sir Patricius having proposed to them a walk along the
pathway to the very beautifully situated and retired village of Neston,
and the proposal having met with universal approbation, was soon carried
into effect. And upon return the thanks of the noble party were voted,
_viva voce_, to Sir Patricius, without one dissentient _no!_
Upon their return the travelling carriages were all duly paraded in
harnessed array before the door of the inn, and ready for the road,
which however, by the bye, proved to be none of the best. In a short
time the distinguished travellers started, but the journey, although in
distance not more than ten miles, ended in a long and fatiguing one from
the badness of the road, and the delay consequent thereon; the first
three or four miles were over deep sands, and the remainder of the way
was over a rough and badly paved road, which continued without
intermission until they reached the gates of ancient Chester. Sir
Patricius stoutly insisted that this road had been paved by the Romans,
and reminded him, he observed, strongly of the _Via Appia_[26] which is
noticed by Horace. "Ah!" said he, "in achieving victories, in forming
camps, and making of roads and cheese, the Romans were a great people
indeed!"
[26] The _Via Appia_ which is noticed by Horace in his journey to
Brundusium, "_Minus est gravis Appia tardis_."
The ladies complained of fatigue, having been much shaken and jolted on
their tiresome journey; but Sir Patricius Placebo solemnly averred, that
the only effect which he had experienced was, that it had strongly
created in him a most immoderate hunger, excited, no doubt, as he
supposed it had been, by the heat and action of shaking, jolting, &c.;
all which keenly operating upon the gastric juice, withal had acted with
such an impetus and energy, to which, in sooth, he was wholly
unaccustomed, had, he was free and honest to confess, called forth so
very unexpected a craving for food! But Sir Patricius was ever upon the
_qui vivè_, and was sure warily to be provided with a pretext, like
proverb-loving Sancho, whenever he wished that a _dejeûné a là
fourchette_, or a collation, should be put in requisition.
The noble party were set down at the noted and far-famed "White Lion,"
where compassionating the _fames Canina_ under which poor Sir Patricius
languished, a cold collation was called for, where, amid various meats
and pastries, a cold and excellent pigeon-pie attracted his hungry
attention, and ere long the contents thereof suddenly disappeared, and
then he seemed to be relieved from the evident distress under which he
had incontinently laboured. This operation was promptly succeeded by a
liberal libation (as a salutary condiment to the pigeon-pie) of some
excellent old Hock, the _anno domini_ of which was unknown to honest
Boniface of "the White Lion."
The ladies too were induced to take some slight refreshment; when the
baronet, who now seemed himself again, proposed a walk to the ladies,
which he thought would both please and refresh them; and that which he
selected was around the walls of this ancient and singular city. This
proposition being readily acceded to, the party set forth upon their
intended peregrination.
Sir Patricius seemed to be more inclined to the talking mood than he had
been disposed to previous to the collation; and made several very
apposite remarks during the progress of their walk, which were
particularly addressed to the duchess.
"This truly ancient, venerable city, was called by the Romans, _Colonia
Deva_, or _Devana_, from its having been the station of the XXth
Victorious Legion. It is evident that _Deva_ means
"The ancient hallow'd Dee."
"_This city without parallel_ is of Roman origin, as is fully evinced by
the form of the city, which is completely Roman, being constructed in
the peculiar figure which the Romans always preserved in their stations
or castrametations, wheresoever the nature of the ground would permit.
The plan or figure of this city is a peculiar one; in shape it is
quadrangular, with four principal gates leading to the four principal
streets, which run directly from east to west, and north to south;
besides a variety of lesser ones, all crossing each other at right
angles, so as to divide the whole into lesser squares. The form likewise
of the walls is also Roman, which are the only entire specimen of
ancient fortification now in great Britain. The walls, as you may
perceive, are in many parts, especially on the north and east sides,
guarded by towers placed in such a position as not to be beyond bow-shot
of one another, in order that the archers might reach the enemy who
attempted to attack the intervals. They also are mostly of a round form,
as was recommended by the Roman architects, in order the better to elude
the force of catapulta and battering-rams."
Here Sir Patricius (in which we shall not follow him) delivered a very
erudite antiquarian lecture upon salient angles, action and reaction,
salient towers, _propugnaculi_, and the whole range of Roman military
architecture.
He next observed: "Chester is a city and county of itself; the Dee river
half encircles it by a winding curve, flowing from east to west, where,
nearly at about twenty miles distance in its course, it empties itself
into the Irish channel. Look down, my lady Duchess, from these walls,
upon the objects below, and you will then appreciate their great
height. Originally they were constructed for defence, but they are now
converted into a promenade for the health and recreation of the
inhabitants; and indeed I must do them the justice to say, that they
keep them in excellent repair. The walls are so narrow in some
particular places that only two persons, as you must observe, can walk
abreast. The circumference of the walls extends to one mile
three-quarters, and a hundred and one yards, ehem! _be the same more or
less_, as the gentlemen of the long robe might express it."
In their progress around the walls, the ladies all were highly pleased
by the surrounding scenery, and none more so than the Lady Adelaide:--
"How beautiful are the views from several parts of these venerable
walls! How luxuriantly green the pastures that margin these walls, and
that beautiful spot, the race-course!"
"Which, my lady," rejoined Sir Patricius, "they now call popularly
Roodee, but the orthography is Rood-eye.[27] This beautiful pasture
ground belongs to the corporation, and comprises eighty-four acres.
Yonder are the mountains of Flintshire and Derbyshire; there the hills
of Broxton; while the insulated rock of Beeston, crowned with its
romantic castle, forms the back-ground of the picture upon which your
Ladyship seems to gaze with such delight; while the landscape is still
further enlivened by the devious winding of the Dee, in its majestic
circling course to Boughton."
[27] "The piece of ground without the walls, on which the annual
horse-races of Chester are run, cannot well be passed over in
silence. The Dee, after quitting the contracted pass at the
bridge, flows beneath an incurvated clayey cliff, and washes on
the right a fine and extensive meadow, long since protected
against its ravages by a lofty dike: it is called Rood-eye.
"The name of this spot is taken from _Eye_, its watery situation,
and _Rood_, the cross which stood there, whose base is still to be
seen. On this place the lusty youth of former days exercised
themselves in the manly sports of the age, in archery, running,
leaping, and wrestling; in mock fights, and gallant and romantic
triumphs.
"A _standard_ was the prize of emulation in the sports celebrated
on the _Rood-eye_. But in the year 1609 the amusements took a new
form; and under the reign of the peaceful JAMES the youthful
cavaliers laid aside their mimic war, and horse-racing commenced.
"The first prizes we hear of after the suppression of the
triumph, were a bell and bowl to be run for on Saint George's day,
which were provided in 1609 by Mr. Robert Amery, formerly Sheriff
of the city, and were brought down to the _Rood-eye_ with great
solemnity. This seems to have been the origin of the plate given
by the city, and annually ran for on the same day to the present
time. A bell was a common prize. A little golden bell was the
reward of victory in 1607 at the races near York; whence came the
proverb, for success of any kind, _to bear the bell_."--_Pennant's
Tour through Wales_, vol. I. pp. 253, 254, 255, 256, 257.
While walking around the walls of Chester, the duchess and her party
encountered a handsome young stranger, who was also promenading this
frequented walk.--We have already premised the narrowness of the walls,
that they in some parts only admitted two persons to walk abreast.--The
stranger, to make way, retired to a small recess nigh one of the towers,
and courteously bowed as the party passed onward.
His eyes were deeply rivetted upon the Lady Adelaide, while her's
seemed as intently fixed upon him. Thrice during their walk, in a
similar manner, they encountered the stranger; at the last meeting it so
happened that Adelaide (accidentally, no doubt,) dropped her glove just
as the stranger met her; he raised it from the ground, and in the most
courteous and graceful manner restored it. While in the act of returning
the glove to its fair owner, it so happened that his hand touched her's;
instantly the blood mounted to her cheek, and she deeply blushed; but
sweetly smiling, she politely thanked him, made her obeisance, and
passed on.
"Who can this stranger be?" thought Adelaide to herself. "He is surely
no ordinary being--none of the common-place creatures of this earth. And
oh, his fine manly beautiful countenance that seems born to command!"
Then, with a sigh, "she thought too that he looked likewise as if born
to love. Oh, what I would give (just from mere curiosity!) to know his
name and rank;--there can be no doubt but that he must be a person of
distinction."
After this mental soliloquy she hastened to rejoin the duchess and her
aunts. They all now returned to "the White Lion;" and the next day was
to be devoted to their visit to the episcopal palace, to pay their
respects to the Bishop of Chester and Mrs. Cartwright. The evening
proving remarkably fine, Sir Patricius ventured to propose a walk to the
ladies, to view the interior of the city, the shops, "the rows," &c. As
they passed along, they observed that many of the houses were of wood,
and most of them built of brick, and wooden frame-work, alternately
painted black and white, in certainly a most coffin-like fashion. The
pinnacles and gables, they observed, were adorned with various curious
and grotesque carvings. Sir Patricius seemed now very anxious to display
all his gothic lore.
"This, my Lady Duchess," he observed, "is in verity a most ancient,
venerable city; and perhaps the most striking of the many peculiarities
in which it abounds are these remarkable covered galleries, or, as they
are ycleped, 'Rows,' which extend the entire length on each side of many
of the streets in front of the range of shops, which are covered over
head, and you ascend them from the four principal streets by flights of
stairs. The effect is as if the front room in every first floor was
scooped out, and the upper stories of the premises supported on pillars,
while the lower tier of rooms, thus purloined, are occupied as shops.
The space thus scooped out forms a covered gallery on each side of the
street, with a ballustrade or railing in front, over which various goods
are flung for exposure to the public--namely, silks, stuffs, shawls, &c.
This ballustrade faces the street; the back parlours of each house thus
circumstanced are converted into rows of shops, and are a great
convenience to the public, from the facility of passing from street to
street, effectually secured from rain or heat, affording a sheltered
walk in winter and a shady one in summer to both inhabitants and
strangers. The streets had been excavated out of the earth, and are in
many places several feet below the surface. The carriages drive far
below the levels of the kitchens, on a line with the range of shops.
"There can be no question, my Lady, whatever," added Sir Patricius,
looking very knowingly, and taking with much gravity a pinch of snuff
from his Carolus snuff-box, "there can be no doubt," said he, "but that
these 'rows' are precisely the same as the ancient _vestibules_, and
appear evidently to have been a form of building preserved from the time
that this city was possessed by the Romans. These _vestibules_ were
built before the doors, midway between the streets and the houses, and
were the places where dependants waited for the coming forth of their
patrons, and under which they might walk, and pass away the tedious
minutes of expectation. Plautus, in the third act of his _Mostellaria_,
describes both their situation and their use,[28] namely, that the
vestibule in front of the house answered the purpose of a piazza, or
covered gallery. The shops beneath these 'rows' were certainly the
_cryptæ_ and _apothecæ_, the magazines and repositories for the various
necessaries of the owners of the houses."
[28] 'Viden' vestibulum ante ædes, et ambulacrum ejusmodi?
The party had now descended from the rows, and pursued their route under
one of the arched gateways ascending from the walls, when who should at
this time be seen but the youthful stranger whom they had encountered in
their morning walk. He took off his hat and lowly bowed. Adelaide,
blushing, returned the salute, being the only one of the party who had
caught a glimpse of him--the duchess and her sisters listening in
wonderment at the learned lore which Sir Patricius had displayed and
poured forth with such wondrous volubility; and he was himself, in
sooth, too much occupied by his own eloquence, to see, to hear, to think
of ought but old Plautus, the _Colonia Devana_, and the Roman
centurions!
The duchess and her party having returned to "the White Lion," tea was
immediately ordered; and as Sir Patricius had most ably done his part
at the morning collation as well as at dinner, he thought it only
decorous to go supperless to bed, which deficit he was, however,
resolved to make up from the supplies of the tea-table. They all shortly
retired to rest, the ladies complaining that they had not as yet got the
tossing of the vessel from their heads, nor the shaking of the Roman
paved way from their shoulders.
"After all," said Sir Patricius, "however, commend me the Romans,
whether for their armies, their victories, for making roads, or
manufacturing cheese!"
The duchess took this as the signal for departing, aware that if this
topic were once begun, it would prove no easy matter to stop Sir
Patricius in his eulogium on the Romans.
The next day, at meet season and time, the duchess, attended by her
party, drove to the episcopal palace, and found the bishop and his lady
at home, expecting their arrival. But it is necessary that the reader
should be previously introduced to the bishop and his lady.
The Right Reverend Doctor Cartwright, Lord Bishop of Chester, was in the
sixty-first or second year of his age, and having passed by the sunny
side of his sexagesimal year, was verging fast to his grand climacteric;
he enjoyed a strong and healthy old age. Piety was stamped on his fine
expanded brow, and benevolence and good-humour sparkled in his eyes, and
played upon his lips; his eyes were hazel, large and intelligent,
beaming beneath his deep black eye-brows; his nose was aquiline; his
figure tall and graceful. He wore a black camlet riding-coat; his hat
was of the episcopal fashion; his peruke was bushy and well powdered;
and in his right hand he carried an ivory-headed cane, not from
necessity, but from choice.
Mrs. Cartwright was somewhat further advanced in years than her Right
Reverend Lord. She had never, even in youth, been accounted handsome;
however, the expression of her countenance was pleasing, and accompanied
withal by a liveliness and good-humour, approaching somewhat the _vis
comica_, but in no way allied to the satirical. Mrs. Cartwright was a
plain, honest, excellent woman, possessed of a good understanding, and
considered in those times as being well informed. No heart was ever
found more fond of doing a kind, generous, and benevolent act, many of
which are on record; but this was none of her seeking, as no one
disliked ostentation more than what she did; her desire was to do good
without its being promulgated. The bishop and his lady never had any
children, but they were too wise and grateful to make themselves
miserable upon this account, and lived contented and happy upon those
blessings which providence had bounteously bestowed, without vainly and
impiously repining for what they never had possessed. Loving and
beloved, this couple lived mated and matched, regarded and respected by
all ranks and conditions in society. They were never weary of
well-doing; daily acts of charity, hospitality, generosity, and
kindness, emanated from the kind and excellent feelings congenial to
them both; indeed they fully verified the words of the inspired
Psalmist: "The voice of joy and health is in the dwellings of the
righteous."
Such were the Bishop of Chester and his lady, to whom the duchess and
her train now presented themselves, and by whom they were most warmly
and affectionately received.
"Welcome! most heartily welcome, my good, excellent, worthy Lady
Duchess," exclaimed the bishop, warmly taking her Grace by the hand; at
the same moment almost she was cordially embraced by Mrs. Cartwright.
"A kind and warm welcome to you and yours," continued the bishop. Then
looking intently at Adelaide, he pressed warmly her hand, saying to the
duchess, "Beshrew my heart, but, lady, thy daughter is most passing
fair, exceeding fair; nor hath fame in aught out-heralded the Lady
Adelaide's beauty!"
The duchess made a low courtesy, and thanked his lordship for his polite
gallantry. "But," said the duchess in an under tone, "when, my Lord, you
shall know more of my daughter, I trust that you will like her mind
better then than now you like her visage." Next, aloud, her Grace said,
"My daughter has reason, my lord, to be proud of your praise, for
_laudari a laudato_--your lordship knows the rest."
"No, my Lady Duchess, no! I am no orator, and, I thank God, no
politician! I am no great man, albeit I am a peer spiritual, and so
forth; therefore my praise on that score can be of but little value
indeed!"
"Not so, my Lord, the praise of a good man ever is of value."
The bishop bowed. His Lordship next proposed a walk in his garden; and
then they adjourned to Chester walls, which closely adjoin the palace,
to promenade until dinner. Adelaide looked to the left and right, but
"the unknown knight of Chester walls" was not to be seen. Upon their
return to the episcopal palace dinner was ready, and soon smoked upon
the hospitable board. It was a sumptuous entertainment. The bishop
having helped the ladies, soon discovered that Sir Patricius was in
complete possession of the _scavoir vivre_.
"I warmly recommend you; Sir Placebo--Sir Patricius, I beg your
pardon--to have some Severn salmon, or some choice dories, caught in the
Llyn; and I do think, above all, that I can speak in positive
commendation of some stewed carp, which is truly delicious. I saw them
caught yesterday (for I am fond of fishing) in that _Piscosus amnis_,
which we call the Vyrnyn."
"No, my Lord, I thank you, I have just made a grand assault, _vi et
furca_, upon your venison, which is actually the finest I have ever
enjoyed. The lean is so ruddy and the fat is so white, that I think, my
Lord, I shall just try a _modicum_ more, [the fourth time he was
helped!] and some sweet sauce withal!"
Indeed the opinion and "great capabilities," to use his own phrase, of
Sir Patricius Placebo, at a well-chosen dinner, were never yet, even by
his enemies, considered as apocryphal; and in the culinary calendar this
notable day was deserving of a mark of approbation, and should be held
in savoury remembrance by every follower of Epicurus. The first and
second course removed, cheese was put down, to which Sir Patricius
helped himself liberally.
"My Lord, your Cheshire is positively excellent. We are indebted to the
victorious _Colonia Devana_ for it. To these same Roman centurions who
introduced the art of cheese-making, until then unknown in England, into
Cheshire; and for my part, my Lord; to adventure upon a pun, I would
call this admirable cheese _divina_.--Ha, ha, ha! It is every way
deserving of the _Cretâ notanda_ of Horace, or the _Cretâ notare_ of
Persius: it should truly be marked with white chalk in the calendar!"
"It seems, Sir Patricius, that you are disposed to _chalk your cheese_
with a note of admiration!--eh? Ha, ha, ha. However, I certainly agree
with you that the art of cheese-making to be the most valuable memorial
which the Romans have left us, and in an especial manner to this
country. Indeed so extensively was cheese-making carried on that these
cohorts exported large quantities of cheese, not only to the distant
colonies, but even to imperial Rome herself!"
"Most true, my Lord; and to such perfection has it been brought, that it
is now (_me judice_) far superior to any imported from classic Italy, or
dull, plodding Batavia. Centuries have passed by, and Rome's centurions
have mixed their dust with the defunct Cæsars, but Cheshire cheese still
holds its high estimation; and long may it do so, while British palates,
teeth, and taste remain--_Semperque manebit!_"
A magnificent dessert, crowned with the oldest and choicest wines,
concluded this princely banquet, and each day's entertainment, although
varied, was equally as splendid as the feast we have recorded.
The next day being the sabbath day, all the guests accompanied Mrs.
Cartwright to the cathedral, (where the bishop was to preach) and sat in
that lady's seat in the gallery. As soon as the service was over the
party proceeded to inspect this grand and venerable pile.
"The cathedral of Chester was built," as the bishop informed the
duchess, "during the reigns of Henry VI., VII., VIII." He observed that
there was much to admire in the beautiful west end of the nave. "The
window over the door is richly adorned with much tasteful tracery, and
architrave of the door enriched with figures and other subjects in
sculpture. The choir is considered handsome, and the gothic tabernacle
work over the stalls is carved in a light and elegant manner. The arches
in the galleries are divided by slender pillars of admirable
conformation."
His Lordship then came to the bishop's throne, which he pointed out as
standing on a stone base; and he observed that the form was an oblong
square, or parallelogram, which was remarkable for its sculpture, each
side being richly ornamented with gothic carvings, with arches and
pinnacles. Around the upper part of the canopy stands a range of little
images, designed to represent the kings and saints of the Mercian
kingdom. The party now advanced to the chancel, where there are four
stone stalls for the officiating priests, richly ornamented above with
carved gothic work. The duchess and Lady Adelaide particularly admired
the magnificent piece of tapestry which adorns the altar; it represents
Elmias the sorcerer struck blind by Saint Paul. The design is taken from
one of the cartoons of Raffaelle, and the execution is truly admirable.
The bishop and his noble guests returned to the palace, where a
magnificent dinner was prepared for them, and the bishop entertained Sir
Patricius Placebo, so soon as the ladies retired, with "_A brief and
succinct account_," as his lordship termed it, "of the ecclesiastical
state of the ancient city of Chester." But as two flasks of old Burgundy
disappeared during the narration, we are somewhat apprehensive that it
would prove rather heavy on our reader's hands, and therefore we shall
in _toto_ decline the discussion.
The duchess and her family having very pleasantly passed a week at the
palace, now prepared for their regretted departure, and next sadly to
bid an affectionate farewell. Mrs. Cartwright obtained a promise from
the duchess of writing to her as soon as her Grace should reach either
Amiens or Lille. They proceeded to the town of Tarporly, and thence to
Wrexam, where they stopped to change horses and to take some
refreshment.
Wrexam is the largest town in North Wales, and its parish the most
numerous; it is the principal town of Denbighshire. Struck by the beauty
and airy lightness of the lofty tower of Wrexam church, the duchess and
Lady Adelaide resolved, while the necessary operations at the inn were
going forward, to wend their way to visit this fine gothic pile; and Sir
Patricius, "albeit," as he said himself pleasantly enough upon the
occasion, "although he was much more addicted, he must needs confess, to
the _memento vivere_ than the _memento mori_" yet, nevertheless, right
gallantly esquired the ladies.
"The church of Wrexam is the glory not only of the place, but of North
Wales." The inside of the church is very spacious, and consists of a
nave, two aisles, and a chancel. Much grotesque carving surmounts the
capitals of the various pillars in the nave, and within the arches are
placed many armorial bearings of the ancient British and Saxon princes.
Many of the monuments which adorn the nave and the aisles are admirably
designed, and the sculpture exceedingly fine. The epitaphs are numerous
and curious: many a "_hic jacet_ Ap-Howel--Ap-Morgan--Ap-Jhones," may be
found in the church and in the church-yard. On the outside of the church
is placed a great variety of ludicrous and grotesque sculpture. The
steeple is an extremely handsome tower, richly ornamented on three sides
with rows of saints placed in rich gothic niches. Among the group is
that of Saint Giles, the patron saint of the church, with the hind that
so miraculously nourished him in the desert, as monkish legends tell. At
every angle of the church tower is a light turret, with a winding
stair-case, twenty-four feet high. The entire height of the church
tower, which is seen to a considerable distance, is one hundred and
twenty-five feet. The church was built in the reign of Henry VIII., and
is in the florid style of gothic architecture.
Know, gentle reader, that there occurred a little incident in Wrexam
church, which must needs have the additament of being known unto thee.
When the noble travellers entered the nave they were much struck by
beholding a robin perched upon a brass chandelier, which was suspended
from the ceiling in the nave, opposite to the reading-desk. The minister
was engaged in reading the Psalms, the clerk the responses; and the
robin expanding his wings, and straining his little throat, as if to
overpower and surpass their voices conjoined. The congregation consisted
of but three elderly ladies. It was of a week day, to which
circumstance, in all probability, was to be attributed the paucity of
the congregation.
This little occurrence produced the following lines from the pen of Lady
Adelaide:--
THE RED-BREAST,
IN WREXAM CHURCH, DENBIGHSHIRE,
I roam'd on a cheerful bright summer morning,
The sun, unclouded, the hills was adorning;
My heart beat in transport, but brief was the hour,
When onward I hasten'd for Wrexam's famed tow'r,
A feeling I have--and that feeling it led,
For pensive the pleasure to muse o'er the dead;
And ponder o'er graves where the good are at rest;
Who no son of sorrow yet ever oppress'd.
"Glad tidings and peace" are of heavenly birth;
Fulfil them, frail mortals, by kindness on earth!
Oh, still the wise counsel, "Bear yet, and forbear!"
We daily from wisdom sublunar may hear.
The blest precept, "Forgive, and then be forgiv'n!"
Is written alone in the records of heav'n.
The church door I enter'd.--The morning was young;
Delighted I heard a sweet Redbreast who sung:
The notes were seraphic, distinct, shrill, and clear,
Sweet Robin the choirist on high chandelier!
Oft quiver'd his bosom, and flutter'd his wing,
While matins he chanted to heaven's high King!
The hour was early;--and time swiftly soon fled
When Robin allur'd me from tombs of the dead.
That space then sufficient I might not well spare
An hour to devote in the temple of prayer.
Farewell, tuneful warbler, farewell to thy lay,
Which fondly I'll cherish for many a day!
Far hence, all unwilling, from thee I depart;
Impress'd be thy memory still on my heart!
The duchess and Lady Adelaide felt with much sensibility the contrariety
between the notes of the tuneful Redbreast and the nasal base of the
veteran clerk slowly drawling forth the responses. Lady Adelaide
compared the one to the other as the silvery tone of the Welch harp,
contrasted with the wintry gale that sweeps o'er Snowden.
From Wrexam, where the horses were baited, and our noble travellers
refreshed, they onward pursued their journey, passing through
Llangollen, and visiting its lovely vale. Highly pleased was every one
with the beautiful scenery through which they had passed, the course of
the Dee, and the windings of the Severn; while with gratified
recollections they thought on the very kind and hospitable reception
which they had experienced at Chester palace. They proceeded next by
way of Oswestry and Shrewsbury, on their route for Bristol; in the
performance of which journey, for the present, we must leave our
distinguished travellers.