Mr. S. is very unwell, in bed, worn out with, the threefold labor of
making and receiving calls, visiting, and delivering public addresses.
C. went to hear Dr. McNeile, of Liverpool, preach--one of the leading
men of the established church evangelical party, a strong millenarian.
C. said that he was as fine a looking person in canonicals as he ever
saw in the pulpit. In doctrine he is what we in America should call very
strong old school. I went, as I had always predetermined to do, if ever
I came to London, to hear Baptist Noel, drawn thither by the melody and
memory of those beautiful hymns of his[N], which must meet a response in
every Christian heart. He is tall and well formed, with one of the most
classical and harmonious heads I ever saw. Singularly enough, he
reminded me of a bust of Achilles at the London Museum. He is indeed a
swift-footed Achilles, but in another race, another warfare. Born of a
noble family, naturally endowed with sensitiveness and ideality to
appreciate all the amenities and suavities of that brilliant sphere, the
sacrifice must have been inconceivably great for him to renounce favor
and preferment, position in society,--which, here in England, means more
than Americans can ever dream of,--to descend from being a court
chaplain, to become a preacher in a Baptist dissenting chapel. Whatever
may be thought of the correctness of the intellectual conclusions which
led him to such a step, no one can fail to revere the strength and
purity of principle which could prompt to such sacrifices. Many,
perhaps, might have preferred that he should have chosen a less decided
course. But if his judgment really led to these results, I see no way in
which it was possible for him to have avoided it. It was with an emotion
of reverence that I contrasted the bareness, plainness, and poverty of
the little chapel with that evident air of elegance and cultivation
which appeared in all that he said and did. The sermon was on the text,
"Now abideth faith, hope, and charity, these three." Naturally enough,
the subject divided itself into faith, hope, and charity.
His style calm, flowing, and perfectly harmonious, his delivery serene
and graceful, the whole flowed over one like a calm and clear strain of
music. It was a sermon after the style of Tholuck and other German
sermonizers, who seem to hold that the purpose of preaching is not to
rouse the soul by an antagonistic struggle with sin through the reason,
but to soothe the passions, quiet the will, and bring the mind into a
frame in which it shall incline to follow its own convictions of duty.
They take for granted, that the reason why men sin is not because they
are ignorant, but because they are distracted and tempted by passion;
that they do not need so much to be told what is their duty, as
persuaded to do it. To me, brought up on the very battle field of
controversial theology, accustomed to hear every religious idea guarded
by definitions, and thoroughly hammered on a logical anvil before the
preacher thought of making any use of it for heart or conscience,
though I enjoyed the discourse extremely, I could not help wondering
what an American theological professor would make of such a sermon.
To preach on faith, hope, and charity all in one discourse--why, we
should have six sermons on the nature of faith to begin with: on
speculative faith; saving faith; practical faith, and the faith of
miracles; then we should have the laws of faith, and the connection of
faith with evidence, and the nature of evidence, and the different kinds
of evidence, and so on. For my part I have had a suspicion since I have
been here, that a touch of this kind of thing might improve English
preaching; as, also, I do think that sermons of the kind I have
described would be useful, by way of alterative, among us. If I could
have but one of the two manners, I should prefer our own, because I
think that this habit of preaching is one of the strongest educational
forces that forms the mind of our country.
After the service was over I went into the vestry, and was introduced to
Mr. Noel. The congregation of the established church, to which he
ministered during his connection with it, are still warmly attached to
him. His leaving them was a dreadful trial; some of them can scarcely
mention his name without tears. C. says, with regard to the church
singing, as far as he heard it, it is twenty years behind that in
Boston. In the afternoon I staid at home to nurse Mr. S. A note from
Lady John Russell inviting us there.
Monday, May 9. I should tell you that at the Duchess of Sutherland's an
artist, named Burnard, presented me with a very fine cameo head of
Wilberforce, cut from a statue in Westminster Abbey. He is from
Cornwall, in the south of England, and has attained some celebrity as an
artist. He wanted to take a bust of me; and though it always makes me
laugh to think of having a new likeness, considering the melancholy
results of all former enterprises, yet still I find myself easy to be
entreated, in hopes, as Mr. Micawber says, that something may "turn up,"
though I fear the difficulty is radical in the subject. So I made an
appointment with Mr. Burnard, and my very kind friend, Mr. B., in
addition to all the other confusions I have occasioned in his mansion,
consented to have his study turned into a studio. Upon the heels of this
comes another sculptor, who has a bust begun, which he says is going to
be finished in Parian, and published whether I sit for it or not,
though, of course, he would much prefer to get a look at me now and
then. Well, Mr. B. says he may come, too; so there you may imagine me in
the study, perched upon a very high stool, dividing my glances between
the two sculptors, one of whom, is taking one side of my face, and one
the other.
To-day I went with Mr. and Mrs. B. to hear the examination of a
borough-school for boys. Mrs. B. told me it was not precisely a charity
school, but one where the means of education were furnished at so cheap
a rate, that the poorest classes could enjoy them. Arrived at the hall,
we found quite a number of _distingués_, bishops, lords, and clergy,
besides numbers of others assembled to hear. The room was hung round
with the drawings of the boys, and specimens of handwriting. I was quite
astonished at some of them. They were executed by pen, pencil, or
crayon--drawings of machinery, landscapes, heads, groups, and flowers,
all in a style which any parent among us would be proud to exhibit, if
done by our own children. The boys looked very bright and intelligent,
and I was delighted with the system, of instruction which had evidently
been pursued with them. We heard them first in the reading and
recitation of poetry; after that in arithmetic and algebra, then in
natural philosophy, and last, and most satisfactorily, in the Bible. It
was perfectly evident from the nature of the questions and answers, that
it was not a crammed examination, and that the readiness of reply
proceeded not from a mere commitment of words, but from a system of
intellectual training, which led to a good understanding of the subject.
In arithmetic and algebra the answers were so remarkable as to induce
the belief in some that the boys must have been privately prepared on
their questions; but the teacher desired Lord John Russell to write down
any number of questions which he wished to have given to the toys to
solve, from his own mind. Lord John wrote down two or three problems,
and I was amused at the zeal and avidity with which the boys seized upon
and mastered them. Young England was evidently wide awake, and the prime
minister himself was not to catch them, napping. The little fellows'
eyes-glistened as they rattled off their solutions. As I know nothing
about mathematics, I was all the more impressed; but when they came to
be examined in the Bible, I was more astonished than ever. The masters
had said that they would be willing any of the gentlemen should question
them, and Mr. B. commenced a course of questions on the doctrines of
Christianity; asking, Is there any text by which you can prove this, or
that? and immediately, with great accuracy, the boys would cite text
upon text, quoting not only the more obvious ones, but sometimes
applying Scripture with an ingenuity and force which I had not thought
of, and always quoting chapter and verse of every text. I do not know
who is at the head of this teaching, nor how far it is a sample of
English schools; but I know that these boys had been wonderfully well
taught, and I felt all my old professional enthusiasm arising.
After the examination Lord John came forward, and gave the boys a good
fatherly talk. He told them that they had the happiness to live under a
free government, where all offices are alike open to industry and merit,
and where any boy might hope by application and talent to rise to any
station below that of the sovereign. He made some sensible, practical
comments, on their Scripture lessons, and, in short, gave precisely such
a kind of address as one of our New England judges or governors might to
schoolboys in similar circumstances. Lord John hesitates a little in his
delivery, but has a plain, common-sense way of "speaking right on,"
which seems to be taking. He is a very simple man in his manners,
apparently not at all self-conscious, and entered into the feelings of
the boys and the masters with good-natured sympathy, which was very
winning. I should think he was one of the kind of men who are always
perfectly easy and self-possessed let what will come, and who never
could be placed in a situation in which he did not feel himself quite at
home, and perfectly competent to do whatever was to be done.
To-day the Duchess of Sutherland called with the Duchess of Argyle. Miss
Greenfield happened to be present, and I begged leave to present her,
giving a slight sketch of her history. I was pleased with the kind and
easy affability with which the Duchess of Sutherland conversed with her,
betraying by no inflection of voice, and nothing in air or manner, the
great lady talking with the poor girl. She asked all her questions with
as much delicacy, and made her request to hear her sing with as much
consideration and politeness, as if she had been addressing any one in
her own circle. She seemed much pleased with her singing, and remarked
that she should be happy to give her an opportunity of performing in
Stafford House, so soon as she should be a little relieved of a heavy
cold which seemed to oppress her at present. This, of course, will be
decisive in her favor in London. The duchess is to let us know when the
arrangement is completed.
I never realized so much that there really is no natural prejudice
against color in the human mind. Miss Greenfield is a dark mulattress,
of a pleasing and gentle face, though by no means handsome. She is short
and thick set, with a chest of great amplitude, as one would think on
hearing her tenor. I have never seen in any of the persons to whom I
have presented her the least indications of suppressed surprise or
disgust, any more than we should exhibit on the reception of a
dark-complexioned Spaniard or Portuguese. Miss Greenfield bears her
success with much quietness and good sense.
Tuesday, May 10. C. and I were to go to-day, with Mrs. Cropper and Lady
Hatherton, to call on the poet Rogers. I was told that he was in very
delicate health, but that he still received friends at his house. We
found the house a perfect cabinet collection of the most rare and costly
works of art--choicest marbles, vases, pictures, gems, and statuary met
the eye every where. We spent the time in examining some of these while
the servant went to announce us. The mild and venerable old man himself
was the choicest picture of all. He has a splendid head, a benign face,
and reminded me of an engraving I once saw of Titian. He seemed very
glad to see us, spoke to me of the gathering at Stafford House, and
asked me what I thought of the place. When I expressed my admiration, he
said, "Ah, I have often said it is a fairy palace, and that the duchess
is the good fairy." Again, he said, "I have seen all the palaces of
Europe, but there is none that I prefer to this." Quite a large circle
of friends now came in and were presented. He did not rise to receive
them, but sat back in his easy chair, and conversed quietly with us all,
sparkling out now and then in a little ripple of playfulness. In this
room were his best beloved pictures, and it is his pleasure to show them
to his friends.
By a contrivance quite new to me, the pictures are made to revolve on a
pivot, so that by touching a spring they move out from the wall, and can
be seen in different lights. There was a picture over the mantel-piece
of a Roman Triumphal Procession, painted by Rubens, which attracted my
attention by its rich coloring and spirited representation of animals.
The coloring of Rubens always satisfies my eye better than that of any
other master, only a sort of want of grace in the conception disturbs
me. In this case both conception and coloring are replete with beauty.
Rogers seems to be carefully waited on by an attendant who has learned
to interpret every motion and anticipate every desire.
I took leave of him with a touch of sadness. Of all the brilliant circle
of poets, which has so delighted us, he is the last--and he so feeble!
His memories, I am told, extend back to a personal knowledge of Dr.
Johnson. How I should like to sit by him, and search into that cabinet
of recollections! He presented me his poems, beautifully illustrated by
Turner, with his own autograph on the fly leaf. He writes still a clear,
firm, beautiful hand, like a lady's.
After that, we all went over to Stafford House, and the Duke and
Duchess of Sutherland went with us into Lord Ellesmere's collection
adjoining. Lord Ellesmere sails for America to-day, to be present at the
opening of the Crystal Palace. He left us a very polite message. The
Duchess of Argyle, with her two little boys, was there also. Lord
Carlisle very soon came in, and with him--who do you think? Tell Hattie
and Eliza if they could have seen the noble staghound that came bounding
in with him, they would have turned from all the pictures on the wall to
this living work of art.
Landseer thinks he does well when he paints a dog; another man chisels
one in stone: what would they think of themselves if they could string
the nerves and muscles, and wake up the affections and instincts, of the
real, living creature? That were to be an artist indeed! The dog walked
about the gallery, much at home, putting his nose up first to one and
then another of the distinguished persons by whom he was surrounded; and
once in a while stopping, in an easy race about the hall, would plant
himself before a picture, with his head on one side, and an air of
high-bred approval, much as I have seen young gentlemen do in similar
circumstances. All he wanted was an eyeglass, and he would have been
perfectly set up as a critic.
As for the pictures, I have purposely delayed coming to them. Imagine a
botanist dropped into the middle of a blooming prairie, waving with
unnumbered dyes and forms of flowers, and only an hour to examine and
make acquaintance with them! Room, after room we passed, filled with
Titians, Murillos, Guidos, &c. There were four Raphaels, the first I had
ever seen. Must I confess the truth? Raphael had been my dream for
years. I expected something which would overcome and bewilder me. I
expected a divine baptism, a celestial mesmerism; and I found four very
beautiful pictures--pictures which left me quite in possession of my
senses, and at liberty to ask myself, am I pleased, and how much? It was
not that I did not admire, for I did; but that I did not admire enough.
The pictures are all holy families, cabinet size: the figures, Mary,
Joseph, the infant Jesus, and John, in various attitudes. A little
perverse imp in my heart suggested the questions, "If a modern artist
had painted these, what would be thought of them? If I did not know it
was Raphael, what should I think?" And I confess that, in that case, I
should think that there was in one or two of them a certain hardness and
sharpness of outline that was not pleasing to me. Neither, any more than
Murillo, has he in these pictures shadowed forth, to my eye, the idea of
Mary. Protestant as I am, no Catholic picture contents me. I thought to
myself that I had seen among living women, and in a face not far off, a
nobler and sweeter idea of womanhood.
It is too much to ask of any earthly artist, however, to gratify the
aspirations and cravings of those who have dreamed of them for years
unsatisfied. Perhaps no earthly canvas and brash can accomplish this
marvel. I think the idealist must lay aside his highest ideal, and be
satisfied he shall never meet it, and then he will begin to enjoy. With
this mood and understanding I did enjoy very much an Assumption of the
Virgin, by Guido, and more especially Diana and her Nymphs, by Titian:
in this were that softness of outline, and that blending of light and
shadow into each other, of which I felt the want in the Raphaels. I felt
as if there was a perfection of cultivated art in this, a classical
elegance, which, so far as it went, left the eye or mind nothing to
desire. It seemed to me that Titian was a Greek painter, the painter of
an etherealized sensuousness, which leaves the spiritual nature wholly
unmoved, and therefore all that he attempts he attains. Raphael, on the
contrary, has spiritualism; his works enter a sphere where at is more
difficult to satisfy the soul; nay, perhaps from the nature of the case,
impossible.
There were some glorious pieces of sunshine by Cuyp. There was a massive
sea piece by Turner, in which the strong solemn swell of the green
waves, and the misty wreathings of clouds, were powerfully given.
There was a highly dramatic piece, by Paul de la Roche, representing
Charles I. in a guard room, insulted by the soldiery. He sits, pale,
calm, and resolute, while they are puffing tobacco smoke in his face,
and passing vulgar jokes. His thoughts appear to be far away, his eyes
looking beyond them with an air of patient, proud weariness.
Independently of the pleasure one receives from particular pictures in
these galleries, there is a general exaltation, apart from, critical
considerations, an excitement of the nerves, a kind of dreamy state,
which is a gain in our experience. Often in a landscape we first single
out particular objects,--this old oak,--that cascade,--that ruin,--and
derive from them, an individual joy; then relapsing, we view the
landscape as a whole, and seem, to be surrounded by a kind of atmosphere
of thought, the result of the combined influence of all. This state,
too, I think is not without its influence in educating the æsthetic
sense.
Even in pictures which we comparatively reject, because we see them, in
the presence of superior ones, there is a wealth of beauty which would
grow on us from day to day, could we see them, often. When I give a sigh
to the thought that in our country we are of necessity, to a great
extent, shut from the world of art, I then rejoice in the inspiriting
thought that Nature is ever the superior. No tree painting can compare
with a splendid elm, in the plenitude of its majesty. There are
colorings beyond those of Rubens poured forth around us in every autumn
scene; there are Murillos smiling by our household firesides; and as for
Madonnas and Venuses, I think with Byron,--
"I've seen more splendid women, ripe and real,
Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal."
Still, I long for the full advent of our American, day of art, already
dawning auspiciously.
After finishing our inspection, we went back to Stafford House to lunch.
In the evening we went to Lord John Russell's. We found Lady Russell and
her daughters sitting quietly around the evening lamp, quite by
themselves. She is elegant and interesting in her personal appearance,
and has the same charm of simplicity and sincerity of manner which we
have found in so marry of the upper sphere. She is the daughter of the
Earl of Minto, and the second wife of Lord John. We passed here an
entirely quiet and domestic evening, with only the family circle. The
conversation turned on various topics of practical benevolence,
connected with the care and education of the poorer classes. Allusion
being made to Mrs. Tyler's letter, Lady Russell expressed some concern
lest the sincere and well-intended expression of the feeling of the
English ladies might have done harm. I said that I did not think the
spirit of Mrs. Tyler's letter was to be taken as representing the
feeling of American ladies generally,--only of that class who are
determined to maintain the rightfulness of slavery.
It seems to me that the better and more thinking part of the higher
classes in England have conscientiously accepted the responsibility
which the world has charged upon them of elevating and educating the
poorer classes. In every circle since I have been here in England, I
have heard the subject discussed as one of paramount importance.
One or two young gentlemen dropped in in the course of the evening, and
the discourse branched out on the various topics of the day; such as the
weather, literature, art, spiritual rappings, and table turnings, and
all the floating et ceteras of life. Lady Russell apologized for the
absence of Lord John in Parliament, and invited us to dine with, them at
their residence in Richmond Park next week, when there is to be a
parliamentary recess.
We left about ten o'clock, and went to pass the night with our friends
Mr. and Mrs. Cropper at their hotel, being engaged to breakfast at the
West End in the morning.