The evening after our return from Windsor was spent with our kind
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Gurney. Mr. Gurney is rector of Mary-le-Bone
parish, one of the largest districts in London; and he is, I have been
told, one of the court chaplains; a man of the most cultivated and
agreeable manners, earnestly and devoutly engaged in the business of
his calling. As one of the working men of the church establishment, I
felt a strong interest in his views and opinions, and he seemed to
take no less interest in mine, as coming from a country where there is
and can be no church establishment. He asked many questions about
America; the general style of our preaching; the character of our
theology; our modes of religious action; our revivals of religion; our
theories of sudden and instantaneous conversion, as distinguished from
the gradual conversion of education; our temperance societies, and the
stand taken by our clergy in behalf of temperance.
He wished to know how the English style of preaching appeared to me in
comparison with that of America. I told him one principal difference
that struck me was, that the English preaching did not recognize the
existence of any element of inquiry or doubt in the popular mind; that
it treated certain truths as axioms, which only needed to be stated to
be believed; whereas in American sermons there is always more or less
time employed in explaining, proving, and answering objections to, the
truths enforced. I quoted Baptist Noel's sermon in illustration of
what I meant.
I asked him to what extent the element of scepticism, with regard to
religious truth, had pervaded the mind of England? adding that I had
inferred its existence there from such novels as those of Kingsley. He
thought that there was much of this element, particularly in the
working classes; that they were coming to regard the clergy with
suspicion, and to be less under their influence than in former times;
and said it was a matter of much solicitude to know how to reach them.
I told him that I had heard an American clergyman, who had travelled
in England, say, that dissenters were treated much as free negroes
were in America, and added that my experience must have been very
exceptional, or the remark much overstated, as I had met dissenting
clergymen in all circles of society. He admitted that there might be a
good deal of bigotry in this respect, but added that the infrequency
of association was more the result of those circumstances which would
naturally draw the two parties to themselves, than to superciliousness
on the side of the establishment, adding that where a court and
aristocracy were in the established church, there would necessarily be
a pressure of fashion in its favor, which might at times bring
uncomfortable results.
The children were sitting by studying their evening lessons, and I
begged Mrs. Gurney to allow me to look over their geographies and
atlases; and on her inquiring why, I told her that well-informed
people in England sometimes made such unaccountable mistakes about the
geography of our country as were quite surprising to me, and that I
did not understand how it was that our children should know so much
more about England than they about us. I found the children, however,
in possession of a very excellent and authentic map of our country. I
must say also that the most highly educated people I have met in
England have never betrayed any want of information on this subject.
The next morning we had at breakfast two clergymen, members of the
established church. They appeared to be most excellent, devout,
practical men, anxious to do good, and thoughtfully seeking for
suggestions from any quarter which might assist them in their labors.
They renewed many of the inquiries which Mr. Gurney had made the
evening before.
After breakfast I went with Mr. Gurney and Mr. S. to Richmond's studio
to sit for a likeness, which is to be presented to Mr. S. by several
friends. Richmond's name is one which in this London sphere has only
to be announced to explain itself; not to know him argues yourself
unknown. He is one of the most successful artists in a certain line of
portrait painting that the present day affords. He devotes himself
principally to crayon and water-color sketches. His crayon heads are
generally the size of life; his water-colors of a small size. He often
takes full-lengths in this way, which render not merely the features,
but the figure, air, manner, and what is characteristic about the
dress. These latter sketches are finished up very highly, with the
minuteness of a miniature. His forte consists in seizing and fixing
those fleeting traits of countenance, air, and movement, which go so
far towards making up our idea of a person's appearance. Many of the
engravings of distinguished persons, with which we are familiar, have
come from his designs, such as Wilberforce, Sir Powell Buxton,
Elizabeth Fry, and others. I found his studio quite a gallery of
notabilities, almost all the _distingués_ of the day having sat
to him; so I certainly had the satisfaction of feeling myself in good
company. Mr. Richmond looks quite youthful, (but I never can judge of
any one's age here,) is most agreeable in conversation, full of
anecdote in regard to all the moving life of London. I presume his
power of entertaining conversation is one secret of his successful
likenesses. Some portrait painters keep calling on you for expression
all the while, and say nothing in the world to awaken it.
From Richmond's, Mr. S., C., and I drove out to call upon Kossuth. We
found him in an obscure lodging on the outskirts of London. I would
that some of the editors in America, who have thrown out insinuations
about his living in luxury, could have seen the utter bareness and
plainness of the reception room, which had nothing in it beyond the
simplest necessaries. Here dwells the man whose greatest fault is an
undying love of his country. We all know that if Kossuth would have
taken wealth and a secure retreat, with a life of ease for himself,
America would gladly have laid all these at his feet. But because he
could not acquiesce in the unmerited dishonor of his country, he lives
a life of obscurity, poverty, and labor. All this was written in his
pale, worn face, and sad, thoughtful blue eye. But to me the unselfish
patriot is more venerable for his poverty and his misfortunes.
Have we, among the thousands who speak loud of patriotism in America,
many men, who, were she enfeebled, despised, and trampled, would
forego self, and suffer as long, as patiently for her? It is even
easier to die for a good cause, in some hour of high enthusiasm, when
all that is noblest in us can be roused to one great venture, than to
live for it amid wearing years of discouragement and hope delayed.
There are those even here in England who delight to get up slanders
against Kossuth, and not long ago some most unfounded charges were
thrown out against him in some public prints. By way of counterpoise
an enthusiastic public meeting was held, in which he was presented
with a splendid set of Shakspeare.
He entered into conversation with us with cheerfulness, speaking
English well, though with the idioms of foreign languages. He seemed
quite amused at the sensation which had been excited by Mr. S.'s
cotton speech in Exeter Hall. C. asked him if he had still hopes for
his cause. He answered, "I hope still, because I work still; my hope
is in God and in man."
I inquired for Madame Kossuth, and he answered, "I have not yet seen
her to-day," adding, "she has her family affairs, you know, madam; we
are poor exiles here;" and, fearing to cause embarrassment, I did not
press an interview.
When we parted he took my hand kindly, and said, "God bless you, my
child."
I would not lose my faith in such men for any thing the world could
give me. There are some people who involve in themselves so many of
the elements which go to make up our confidence in human nature
generally, that to lose confidence in them seems to undermine our
faith in human virtue. As Shakspeare says, their defection would be
like "another fall of man."
We went back to Mr. Gurney's to lunch, and then, as the afternoon was
fine, Mr. and Mrs. Gurney drove with us in their carriage to Pembroke
Lodge, the country seat of Lord John Russell. It was an uncommonly
beautiful afternoon, and the view from Richmond Hill was as perfect a
specimen of an English landscape, seen under the most benignant
auspices, as we could hope to enjoy. Orchards, gardens, villas,
charming meadows enamelled with flowers, the silver windings of the
Thames, the luxuriant outlines of the foliage, varied here and there
by the graceful perpendicular of the poplars, all formed one of the
richest of landscapes. The brow of the hill is beautifully laid out
with tufts of trees, winding paths, diversified here and there with
arbors and rustic seats.
Richmond Park is adorned with clumps of ancient trees, among which
troops of deer were strolling. Pembroke Lodge is a plain,
unostentatious building, rising in the midst of charming grounds. We
were received in the drawing room by the young ladies, and were sorry
to learn that Lady Russell was so unwell as to be unable to give us
her company at dinner. Two charming little boys came in, and a few
moments after, their father, Lord John. I had been much pleased with
finding on the centre table a beautiful edition of that revered friend
of my childhood, Dr. Watts's Divine Songs, finely illustrated. I
remarked to Lord John that it was the face of an old friend. He said
it was presented to his little boys by their godfather, Sir George
Grey; and when, taking one of the little boys on his knee, he asked
him if he could repeat me one of his hymns, the whole thing seemed so
New England-like that I began to feel myself quite at home. I hope I
shall some day see in America an edition of Dr. Watts, in which the
illustrations do as much justice to the author's sentiments as in
this, for in all our modern religious works for children there is
nothing that excels these divine songs.
There were only a few guests; among them Sir George Grey and lady; he
is nephew to Earl Grey, of reform memory, and she is the eldest
daughter of the pious and learned Bishop Ryder, of Lichfield. Sir
George is a man of great piety and worth, a liberal, and much
interested in all benevolent movements. There was also the Earl of
Albemarle, who is a colonel in the army, and has served many years
under Wellington, a particularly cheerful, entertaining, conversable
man, full of anecdote. He told several very characteristic and comical
stories about the Duke of Wellington.
At dinner, among other things, the conversation turned upon hunting.
It always seemed to me a curious thing, that in the height of English
civilization this vestige of the savage state should still remain. I
told Lord Albemarle that I thought the idea of a whole concourse of
strong men turning out to hunt a poor fox or hare, creatures so feeble
and insignificant, and who can do nothing to defend themselves, was
hardly consistent with manliness; that if they had some of our
American buffaloes, or a Bengal tiger, the affair would be something
more dignified and generous. Thereupon they only laughed, and told
stories about fox hunters. It seems that killing a fox, except in the
way of hunting, is deemed among hunters an unpardonable offence, and a
man who has the misfortune to do it would be almost as unwilling to
let it be known as if he had killed a man.
They also told about deer stalking in the highlands, in which exercise
I inferred Lord John had been a proficient. The conversation reminded
me of the hunting stories I had heard in the log cabins in Indiana,
and I amused myself with thinking how some of the narrators would
appear among my high-bred friends. There is such a quaint vivacity and
droll-cry about that half-savage western life, as always gives it a
charm in my recollection. I thought of the jolly old hunter who always
concluded the operations of the day by discharging his rifle at his
candle after he had snugly ensconced himself in bed; and of the
celebrated scene in which Henry Clay won an old hunter's vote in an
election, by his aptness in turning into a political simile some
points in the management of a rifle.
Now there is, to my mind, something infinitely more sublime about
hunting in real earnest amid the solemn shadows of our interminable
forests, than in making believe hunt in parks.
It is undoubtedly the fact, that these out-of-door sports of England
have a great deal to do with the firm health which men here enjoy.
Speaking of this subject, I could not help expressing my surprise to
Lord John at the apparently perfect health enjoyed by members of
Parliament, notwithstanding their protracted night labors. He thinks
that the session of Parliament this year will extend nearly to August.
Speaking of breakfasts, he said they often had delightful breakfasts
about three o'clock in the day; this is a total reverse of all our
ideas in regard to time.
After dinner Lord and Lady Ribblesdale came in, connections of Lord
John by a former marriage. I sat by Lord John on the sofa, and
listened with great interest to a conversation between him and Lady
Grey, on the working of the educational system in England; a subject
which has particularly engaged the attention of the English government
since the reign of the present queen. I found a difficulty in
understanding many of the terms they used, though I learned much that
interested me.
After a while I went to Lady Russell's apartment, and had an hour of
very pleasant conversation with her. It greatly enlarges our
confidence in human nature to find such identity of feeling and
opinion among the really good of different countries, and of all
different circles in those countries. I have never been more impressed
with this idea than during my sojourn here in England. Different as
the institutions of England and America are, they do not prevent the
formation of a very general basis of agreement in so far as radical
ideas of practical morality and religion are concerned; and I am
increasingly certain that there is a foundation for a lasting unity
between the two countries which shall increase constantly, as the
increasing facilities of communication lessen the distance between us.
Lady Russell inquired with a good deal of interest after Prescott, our
historian, and expressed the pleasure which she and Lord John had
derived from his writings.
We left early, after a most agreeable evening. The next day at eleven
o'clock we went to an engagement at Lambeth Palace, where we had been
invited by a kind note from its venerable master, the Archbishop of
Canterbury. Lambeth is a stately pile of quaint, antique buildings,
rising most magnificently on the banks of the Thames. It is surrounded
by beautiful grounds, laid out with choice gardening. Through an
ancient hall, lighted by stained-glass windows, we were ushered into
the drawing room, where the guests were assembling. There was quite a
number of people there, among others the lady and eldest son of the
Bishop of London, the Earl and Countess Waldegrave, and the family
friends of the archbishop.
The good archbishop was kind and benign, as usual, and gave me his arm
while we explored the curiosities of the palace. Now, my dear, if you
will please to recollect that the guide book says, "this palace
contains all the gradations of architecture from early English to late
perpendicular," you will certainly not expect me to describe it in one
letter. It has been the residence of the archbishops of Canterbury
from time immemorial, both in the days before the reformation and
since.
The chapel was built between the years 1200 and 1300, and there used
to be painted windows in it, as Archbishop Laud says, which contained
the whole history of the world, from the creation to the day of
judgment. Unfortunately these comprehensive windows were destroyed in
the civil wars.
The part called the Lollards' Tower is celebrated as having been the
reputed prison of the Lollards. These Lollards, perhaps you will
remember, were the followers of John Wickliffe, called Lollards as
Christ was called a "Nazarene," simply because the word was a term of
reproach. Wickliffe himself was summoned here to Lambeth to give an
account of his teachings, and in 1382, William Courtnay, Archbishop of
Canterbury, called a council, which condemned his doctrines. The
tradition is, that at various times these Lollards were imprisoned
here.
In order to get to the tower we had to go through a great many
apartments, passages, and corridors, and terminate all by climbing a
winding staircase, steeper and narrower than was at all desirable for
any but wicked heretics, who ought to be made as uncomfortable as
possible. However, by reasonable perseverance, the archbishop, the
bishop's lady, and all the noble company present found themselves
safely at the top. Our host remarked, I think, that it was the second
time he had ever been there.
The room is thirteen feet by twelve, and about eight feet high,
wainscotted with oak, which is scrawled over with names and
inscriptions. There are eight large iron rings in the wall, to which
the prisoners were chained; for aught we know, Wickliffe himself may
have been one. As our kind host moved about among us with his placid
face, we could not but think that times had altered since the days
when archbishops used to imprison heretics, and preside over grim,
inquisitorial tribunals. We all agreed, however, that, considering the
very beautiful prospect this tower commands up and down the Thames,
the poor Lollards in some respects might have been worse lodged.
We passed through the guard room, library, and along a corridor where
hung a row of pictures of all the archbishops from the very earliest
times; and then the archbishop took me into his study, which is a most
charming room, containing his own private library: after that we all
sat down to lunch in a large dining hall. I was seated between the
archbishop and a venerable admiral in the navy. Among other things,
the latter asked me if there were not many railroad and steamboat
accidents in America. O my countrymen, what trouble do you make us in
foreign lands by your terrible carelessness! I was obliged, in candor,
to say that I thought there was a shocking number of accidents of that
sort, and suggested the best excuse I could think of--our youth and
inexperience; but I certainly thought my venerable friend had touched
a very indefensible point.
Among other topics discussed in the drawing room, I heard some more
_on dits_ respecting spiritual rappings. Every body seems to be
wondering what they are, and what they are going to amount to.
We took leave of our kind host and his family, gratefully impressed
with the simplicity and sincere cordiality of our reception. There are
many different names for goodness in this world; but, after all, true
brotherly kindness and charity is much the same thing, whether it show
itself by a Quaker's fireside or in an archbishop's palace.
Leaving the archbishop's I went to Richmond's again, where I was most
agreeably entertained for an hour or two. We have an engagement for
Playford Hall to-morrow, and we breakfast with Joseph Sturge: it being
now the time of the yearly meeting of the Friends, he and his family
are in town.