The first of these journeys was taken when I went with my father and mother from the little country town where we then lived to Syracuse, Buffalo, and Niagara. This must have been in 1838, when I was about six years of age. Every step of it interested me keenly. Like the shop-girl in Emile Souvestre"s story, who journeyed from Paris to St. Cloud, I was "amazed to find the world so large." Syracuse, which now has about one hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants, had then, perhaps, five thousand; the railways which were afterward consolidated into the New York Central were not yet built, and we traveled mainly upon the ca.n.a.l, though at times over wretchedly muddy roads. Niagara made a great impression upon me, and Buffalo, with its steamers, seemed as great then as London seems now.
Four years later, in 1842, I was taken to the hills of middle Ma.s.sachusetts to visit my great-grandfather and great-grandmother, and thence to Boston, where Faneuil Hall, the Bunker Hill Monument, Harvard College, and Mount Auburn greatly impressed me. Returning home, we came by steamer through the Sound to the city of New York, and stayed at a hotel near Trinity Church, which was then a little south of the central part of the city. On another visit, somewhat later, we were lodged at the Astor House, near the City Hall, which was then at the very center of everything, and thence took excursions far northward into the uttermost parts of the city, and even beyond it, to see the newly erected Grace Church and the reservoir at Forty-second Street, which were among the wonders of the town. Most of all was I impressed by the service in the newly erected Trinity Church.
The idea uppermost in my mind was that here was a building which was to last for hundreds of years, and that the figures in the storied windows above the altar would look down upon new generations of worshipers, centuries after I, with all those living, should have pa.s.sed away. My feeling for religious music was then, as since, very deep; and the organ of Trinity gave satisfaction to this feeling; the tremulous ground-tone of the great pedal diapasons thrilling me through and through.
At this period, about 1843, began my visits with the family to Saratoga. My grandfather, years before, had derived benefit from its waters, and the tradition of this, as well as the fact that my father there met socially his business correspondents from different parts of the State, led to our going year after year.
Drinking the waters, taking life easily upon the piazzas of the great hotels festooned with Virginia creepers, and driving to the lake, formed then, as now, the main occupations of the day. But there was then one thing which has now ceased: in many of the greater hotels public prayers were held every evening, some eminent clergyman officiating; and a leader in these services was David Leavitt, a famous New York bank president, shrewd, but pious. Now and then, as the political campaigns drew on, we had speeches from eminent statesmen; and I give in the chapters on "My Religion" reminiscences of speeches on religious subjects made by Archbishop Hughes and Father Gavazzi. An occasional visit from Washington Irving or Senator (afterward President) Buchanan, as well as other men of light and leading, aroused my tendencies toward hero-worship; but perhaps the event most vividly stamped into my memory was the parade of Mme. Jumel. One afternoon at that period she appeared in the streets of Saratoga in an open coach-and-four, her horses ridden by gaily dressed postilions.
This was regarded by very many visitors as an affront not merely to good morals, but to patriotism, for she had the fame of having been in relations, more intimate than edifying, with Aaron Burr, who was widely considered as a traitor to his country as well as the murderer of Alexander Hamilton; and on the second day of her parade, another carriage, with four horses and postilions, in all respects like her own, followed her wherever she went and sometimes crossed her path: but this carriage contained an enormous negro, black and glossy, a porter at one of the hotels, dressed in the height of fashion, who very gravely rose and doffed his hat to the applauding mult.i.tudes on either side of the way. Mme. Jumel and her friends were, of course, furious; and it was said that her postilions would in future be armed with pistols and directed to fire upon the rival equipage should it again get in their way. But no catastrophe occurred; Mme. Jumel took one or two more drives, and that was the end of it.
In my college days, from 1849 to 1853, going to and from New Haven, I frequently pa.s.sed through New York, and the progress of the city northward since my earlier visits was shown by the fact that the best hotel nearest the center of business had become first the Irving House, just at the upper end of the City Hall Park, and later the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan hotels, some distance up Broadway. Staying in 1853 at a hotel looking out upon what was to be Madison Square, I noticed that all north of that was comparatively vacant, save here and there a few houses and churches.
Going abroad shortly afterward, I gave three years to my attacheship and student life in Europe, traveling across the continent to St. Petersburg and back, as well as through Germany, Switzerland, Austria, and Italy, all of which were then under the old regime of disunion and despotism. To these journeys I refer elsewhere.
Interesting to me, after my return home, were visits to Chicago in 1858 and at various times afterward. At my first visits the city was wretchedly unkempt. Workmen were raising its grade, and their mode of doing this was remarkable. Under lines of brick and stone houses, in street after street, screws were placed; and, large forces of men working at these, the vast buildings went up steadily. My first stay was at the Tremont House, then a famous hostelry; and during the whole of my visit the enormous establishment, several stories in height, was going on as usual, though it was all open beneath and rising in the air perceptibly every day. Years afterward, when Mr. George Pullman had become deservedly one of the powers of Chicago, he gave me a dinner, at which I had the pleasure of meeting a large number of the most energetic and distinguished men of the city. Being asked by a guest as to the time when I first visited Chicago, I stated the facts above given, when my interlocutor remarked, "Yes, and if you had gone down into the cellar beneath the Tremont House you would have found our host working at one of the jack-screws." I had already an admiration for Mr. Pullman; for he had told me of his creation of the Pullman cars, and had shown me through the beautiful artisan town which bears his name; but by this remark my respect for him was greatly augmented.
My first visit to the upper Mississippi left an indelible impression on my mind. No description of that vast volume of water slowly moving before my eyes ever seemed at all adequate until, years afterward, I read Mark Twain"s "Tom Sawyer," and his account of the scene when his hero awakes on a raft floating down the great river struck a responsive chord in my heart. It was the first description that ever answered at all to the picture in my mind. Very interesting to me were sundry later excursions to Boston, generally on university or other business. At one of these I purchased the library of President Sparks for the university, and, staying some days, had the pleasure of meeting many noted men--among them Mr. Josiah Quincy, whose reminiscences were to me very interesting, his accounts of conversations with John Adams perhaps more so than anything else. At various clubs I met most charming people, the most engrossing of these being Arthur Gilman, the architect: then, and at other times, I sat up with him late into the night,--once, indeed, the entire night,--listening to his flow of quaint wit and humor. The range of his powers was perhaps best shown in a repet.i.tion of what he claimed to be the debate in the city council of Boston on his plans for a new city hall, which were afterward adopted. The speeches in Irish brogue, Teutonic Jargon, and down-east Yankee dialect, with utterances interposed here and there by solemnly priggish members, were inimitable. His pet antipathy seemed to be the bishop of the diocese, Dr. Eastburn. Stories were told to the effect that Gilman, early in life, had desired to take orders in the Protestant Episcopal Church, but that the bishop refused to ordain him, on the ground that he lacked the requisite discretion. Hence, perhaps his zeal in preaching what he claimed to be the bishop"s sermons. Dr. Eastburn was much given to amplification, and Gilman always insisted that he had heard him once, when preaching on the parable of Dives and Lazarus, discuss the prayer of Dives in torments for a drop of water, as follows: "To this, my brethren, under the circ.u.mstances entirely natural, but, at the same time, no less completely inadmissible request, the aged patriarch replied."
The bishop, who enjoyed a reputation for eloquence, was wont to draw his lungs full of air at frequent periods during his discourses, thus keeping his voice strong, as skilful elocutionists advise; and on one very warm summer afternoon, according to Gilman"s account, a little boy in the congregation, son of one of the most distinguished laymen in the diocese, becoming very uneasy and begging his mother to allow him to go home, she had quieted him several times by a.s.suring him that the bishop would soon be through, when, just at one of the most impressive pa.s.sages, the bishop having drawn in his breath as usual, the little boy screamed so as to be heard throughout the church, "No, he won"t stop, mama; no, he won"t stop; don"t you see he has just blowed hisself up again?"
Gilman also told us a story of the bishop"s catechizing the children in a Boston church, when, having taken the scriptural account of Jonah and carried the prophet into the whale"s belly, he asked very impressively, "And now, children, how do you suppose that Jonah felt?" Whereupon little Sohier, son of the noted lawyer, piped out, "Down in the mouth, sir." Gilman insisted that the bishop was exceeding wroth, and complained to the boy"s father, who was unable to conceal from the bishop his delight at his son"s answer.
At one visit or another, mainly during the years of my connection with Cornell University, I met at Boston, pleasantly, the men who were then most distinguished in American literature. One of these, who interested me especially, was Ticknor, author of the "History of Spanish Literature." Longfellow always seemed to me a most lovely being, whether at Nahant or at Cambridge. Lowell was wonderfully brilliant as well as kindly, and Edward Everett Hale delightful. It was the time of Hale"s short stories in the "Atlantic Monthly," which seem to me the best ever written.
Oliver Wendell Holmes I met so rarely that I have little memory of his brilliant conversation. Emerson I met then and at other times,--once, especially, in a railway train during one of his Western lecture tours; he was then reading the first volume of Carlyle"s "Frederick the Great," and, on my asking him how he liked it, instead of showing his usual devotion to the author, he burst forth into a stream of protests against Carlyle"s "everlasting scolding at Dryasdust." A man who was as much overrated then as he is underrated now was Whipple, the essayist; he was always bright, and often suggestive; but too reliant upon a style which is now out of date,--frequently summoning "alliteration"s artful aid," and resorting to other devices, fashionable then, but now discarded. Perhaps the best of all his sentences was the one on the three great statesmen of that period, to the effect that Webster was INductive, Calhoun DEductive, and Clay SEductive; which was not only well stated but true. Very vividly comes back to me a supper-party given early in 1875 at the house of James T. Fields, in celebration of Bayard Taylor"s birthday. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Fields and Taylor were present Richard H. Dana, eminent in law and letters; Cranch, then known both as a painter and poet; Mr. Osgood; and myself. Taylor recited, as I had heard him do at other times, from the productions of the Georgia poet, Chivers, and especially from the "Eonx of Ruby." Chivers, according to Taylor"s showing, had become infatuated with Poe, and adorned his verses with every sort of beautiful word which he could coin, the result being as nonsensical a medley as was ever known. Earlier in the evening, Taylor, Fields, and myself had each of us been giving a lecture, and this led Taylor to speak of a recent experience of his while holding forth in one of the smaller towns of Ma.s.sachusetts. The chairman of the lecture committee, being seated beside him on the platform, and wishing to entertain him with edifying conversation while the audience was coming in remarked that they had had rather a trying experience during the lecture of the week before.
On Taylor"s asking what it was, the chairman answered: "The lecturer was seized by a virago on the stage." He meant vertigo.
Dana told good stories of old Dr. Osgood of Medford, whose hatred of Democracy was shown not only in his well-known reading of Governor Gerry"s proclamation, but in his bitter sermon at the election of Thomas Jefferson. At this some one gave a story regarding our contemporary Dr. Osgood, the eminent Unitarian clergyman, who, toward the end of his life, had gone into the Protestant Episcopal Church. I had known him as a man of much ability and power, but with a rather extraordinary way of a.s.serting himself and patronizing people. He had recently died, and a legend had arisen that, on his arrival in the New Jerusalem, being presented to St. Paul, he said: "Sir, I have derived both profit and pleasure from your writings, and have commended them to my congregation."
Our host, Fields, was especially delightful. He gave reminiscences of his stay with Tennyson on the Isle of Wight--among others, of taking a walk with him one dark evening when, suddenly, the great poet fell on his knees, and seeming to burrow in the gra.s.s called out gutturally and gruffly: "Man, get down on your marrow-bones; here are violets." Fields also gave reminiscences of Charles Sumner, showing the great senator"s utter lack of any sense of humor, and among them a story of his summoning his office-boy to his presence on the eve of the Fourth of July and addressing him on this wise: "Patrick, to-morrow is the natal day of our Republic; it is a day for public rejoicing, a time of patriotic festivity. You need not come to the office; go out and rejoice with our fellow-citizens that your lot is cast in so happy a country. Here are fifty cents; I advise you to pa.s.s the day at the cemetery of Mount Auburn."
Very interesting to me were sundry excursions in the Southern States, the first as far back as 1864. After attending the Baltimore Convention which renominated Mr. Lincoln, and paying my respects to him at Washington, as stated in my political reminiscences, I went somewhat later to Richmond. Libby Prison had a sad interest for me, as for many at that time, and on all sides was seen the havoc of war; but perhaps the most curious feature of my stay was a visit to the house which had served as the White House of the Confederacy--the dwelling of Jefferson Davis, for, just as I entered the door I met one of the arch antislavery men of New England, Dr. Leonard Bacon of New Haven.
Both of us were happy at the outcome of the war, but it was with a very solemn sort of joy that we thus met in such a place. I seemed to hear, as so often in the South of that day, and, indeed, in the North also, that fearful prophecy of Thomas Jefferson--when speaking of slavery in the Southern States--beginning with the words, "I tremble when I remember that G.o.d is just." Halting at Gettysburg on my return northward, I found marks of the terrible contest of the previous year still vivid. For miles, in all directions, on the roads and through the fields, were fragments of sh.e.l.l, of cannon, of harness, of clothing, and equipments of every sort. The trees, especially those near the great centers of the struggle, where the cemetery now is, were gashed and torn in trunk and branches, and here and there were to be seen fragments of human bodies which, having been too hastily buried, had been washed out by the rains.
About ten years later,--February, 1875,--being much worn with labor and care at the university, I made a short stay in the more Southern States, my first stop being at Washington, where I pa.s.sed an interesting evening at the Executive Mansion with President Grant, who was as simple and cordial in manner as ever.
The next day I left Washington for Richmond and the far South, and on the morning following was aroused at one of the way-stations by hearing negroes singing in a neighboring car.
They were happy at the prospect of breakfast, but a curious preliminary was that each came out upon the platform, and, taking a currycomb which was hung up for the purpose, curried himself, much as an ostler administers that treatment to a horse--every negro grasping in his turn the large wooden handle and pulling the iron teeth through his plentiful wool.
Stopping next at Columbia in South Carolina, I saw flagrant examples of carpet-bag rule; but of those in the State-house I have already spoken. Here was a focus of Southern feeling; and at the State University, which was charmingly situated, and altogether a most fitting home for scholars and thinkers, I was taken into the library where formerly stood the bust of Francis Lieber, once a professor in the inst.i.tution. Never had the South a wiser or better friend. In after years I knew, loved, and respected him. No man with a deeper knowledge of free inst.i.tutions, or with greater love for them, has ever lived in our country; but when the news came to his old university, where he had been so greatly admired, that he was true to the Union, his marble bust was torn from its place, dishonored, and destroyed. There could be no better ill.u.s.tration of Bishop Butler"s idea of "a possible insanity of States."
On Sunday, having been taken by one of the professors in the university to a Protestant Episcopal church for colored people, of which he was rector, I was surprised at the light color and real beauty of many of the women present: nowhere, save in Jamaica, had I seen people of mixed races so attractive. In Charleston there were on all sides ruins, due not only to the Civil War, but to the more recent fire and earthquake. It all seemed as if the vengeance of Heaven had been wrought upon the city. My sympathies were deeply enlisted; I felt no anger over the past, no exultation. I was taken to a home for Confederate orphans and to another for widows, and in both were pointed out to me members of families, now hopelessly dest.i.tute, who before the war lived in luxury. In no city, at home or abroad, have I ever seen a line of stately mansions which seemed more fitting abodes for wealth and culture than those upon the esplanade at Charleston; in the days gone by a n.o.ble hospitality had centered there, but all was now silent and distressed.
On the 4th of March we arrived in Florida and found it fascinating. Never before had I been farther south upon the mainland of the United States than Charleston, and never had I seen anything of this region, save when the frigate bearing the Santo Domingo Commission touched at Key West. Among the most characteristic things at Jacksonville was a large church belonging to the negro Baptists, who were evidently the leading sect. The church was large, but unfinished, and a main feature of every service was pa.s.sing the hat for contributions. The services were singular indeed. There was one old negro pastor who, though he could read little if at all, had schooled himself to look into the Bible while reciting parts of chapters, and to keep his eyes upon the pages of his hymnal while repeating the hymns; and a very weighty function was the reading of notices of every sort of social gathering, especial prominence being given to meetings of fire-engine companies. The number of Northern visitors was very large, and it was evident that the negro managers of the congregation felt the importance of keeping on good terms with all of them without regard to party; for, on one occasion, as the pastor was giving these notices, slowly deciphering them, with the aid of a younger minister, and reading them mechanically, he began as follows: "Dere will be a meetin" of de Republikins of dis ward"--and instantly a number of the brethren started to their feet, and put up their hands with a long "Hu-u-u-sh!" The preacher was greatly embarra.s.sed and pa.s.sed on immediately to "There will be a meeting of No. 2 Fire Company," etc., etc. Most hearty of all was the singing, in which the whole congregation joined loudly and with voices clear and silvery. After the services were over there came regularly what was called the "sperritual part." Some one of the more gifted singers--of whom, perhaps, the most satisfactory was a young colored man in a black velvet coat and a brilliant red tie--came forward, stood before the pulpit, and began a long solo--as a rule, with scores of verses. One was on the creation, another on the flood, each verse paraphrasing the scriptural account; and the refrain, in which the whole congregation joined, was as follows:
"Ole Pharaoh he got law-s-t-- Got law-s-t, got law-s-t-- Ole Pharaoh he got drownded In the Re-e-e-e-d Sea."
But soon came a song which amazed me. It was totally different in character from any of the others, and was called "The Seven Glories of Mary." One of the verses ran as follows:
"An" de berry next glory dat Mary she had, It was de glory of sebben-- It was dat her Son Jesus he tolled de bells of hebben;"
and then, as at the end of each verse, came from the whole congregation the refrain:
"Oh, trials an" tribulashuns!
I"m gwine to quit dis world."
Next day I sent for the singer and asked him where he had learned his songs. His answer was, "Boss, I made "em up myself." To this I answered, "Quite likely, some of them; but not "The Seven Glories of Mary."" He thought a moment, and then said, "Yes, boss, you "re right; dat song I brought down from ole Virginny."
It was as I had thought. The song was an old Christmas carol, evidently brought from England in Colonial times; and the negroes, having subst.i.tuted here and there a word or a phrase which struck them as finer than the original had preserved it.
Strange, indeed, were the devotions of this great congregation.
Occasionally some old plantation negro, gray-headed and worn with labor, would rise and lead in the prayers with a real inspiration, pouring out his whole heart, with all its hopes and sorrows. Never have I heard more pathetic supplications. More than once I have seen tears streaming from the eyes of the Northern visitors, and then, almost in a moment, the same faces wreathed in smiles at some farce in giving out the notices or in taking up the collections.
A charming episode in this Florida stay was an excursion up the St. John"s River, through beautiful semi-tropical vegetation. But one thing was exceedingly vexatious. On the deck of the steamer were various tourists who enjoyed themselves by shooting the beautiful birds and interesting saurians of the region--mere wanton killing, with never any stop to pick up the bodies of these creatures. It reminded me of the old wastefulness in the North,--the exhaustive fishing of the rivers and streams, especially the trout-streams; the killing of deer by hundreds; and the wanton extermination of the buffalo. Wonderful to me were the great springs of the region--springs so large that the little steamer could make its way to them and upon them, so that from the deck we could look far, far down into the depths as through clear crystal. Most interesting of the people I met were Professor and Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, who were pa.s.sing the winter in their house at Mandarin near by, and invited us to visit them. Theirs was a happy-go-lucky sort of life, in a simple cottage surrounded by great orange orchards, beyond which was a fringe of palmettos. On the morning after our arrival, Mrs. Stowe came in and said, "Well, we shall have dinner." To which I said, "Of course we shall." "No," said she, "not "of course," for when I awoke this morning there was nothing for dinner in the house, and no prospect of anything in the village; but, taking my walk, I met a negro with a magnificent wild turkey which he had just shot, and that we will have." Just before dinner, our hostess and I walked out into the orange orchard and there picked from the trees a large market-basket full of the most beautiful oranges ever seen,--large, sweet, and juicy; and these, embedded deftly by her in a great ma.s.s of rich green leaves, glorified the table during the discussion of the turkey, and became our dessert.
Never was there a more sumptuous dinner, and never better talk.
Mrs. Stowe was at her best, and the Doctor abounded in quaint citations from French memoirs, of which he was an indefatigable reader.
On the way North I stopped again at Charleston, visiting Drayton Hall, a fine old mansion dating from 1740, but never completed, surrounded by beautiful gardens filled with great azaleas in full bloom, the most gorgeous I have ever seen in any part of the world; but a cloud seemed to rise over it all when we were told that, except in winter, remaining on the island was for white people certain death. In all this journey through the South I added much to my library regarding Secession and the Civil War; acc.u.mulating newspapers, tracts, and books which became the nucleus of the large Civil War collection at Cornell. Then, too, there were talks with people on the train and in the hotels, sometimes profitable and sometimes amusing. As to the feeling between the whites and the negroes, a former master said to me, "My old n.i.g.g.e.rs will do anything I wish except cast their ballots for me; they will give me anything they have in this world except their votes; they would starve themselves for me, but they won"t vote for me." Among myriads of stories I heard one which seemed to argue more philosophic power in the negro than many suppose him to possess. A young planter at one of the Southern watering-places appeared every day terribly bitten by mosquitos, so that, finally, some of the guests said to his negro body-servant, "Bob, why don"t you take pains to protect your master with mosquito curtains?" To which the negro answered, "No use in it, sah; de fact is, sah, dat in de night-time Mars Tom is too drunk to care for de skeeters, and in de daytime de skeeters is too drunk to care for Mars Tom." There was also a revelation of negro religious feeling in a story told me regarding "Thad"
Stevens. Mr. Stevens was in his day, on many accounts, the most powerful member of the House of Representatives--at times a very stern mentor to Mr. Lincoln, and to President Johnson a terror. I remember him as rough and of acrid humor, but with a sort of rugged power. The story was that one day, while at dinner, he heard at the sideboard the crash of a platter, and immediately, in a fury, called out, with a bitter oath, "Well, you idiot --------, what have you broken now?" To which the negro woman answered, "Bress de good Lord, it ain"t de third commandmunt."
There were various other journeys on American soil, and among them a very delightful summer stay, in 1884, at Nantucket; but of all the impressions upon me at that period perhaps the strongest was made by a piece of cra.s.s absurdity not unusual in a certain stratum of American society. Making an excursion with my friend President Gilman from Nantucket to the United States Fisheries Station at Woods Hole, we stopped overnight at Martha"s Vineyard, a beautiful little island which has now become a sort of saints"
rest where, during the summer, a certain cla.s.s of pious New Englanders of the less intellectual type crowd themselves into little cottages and enjoy a permanent camp-meeting. Never, except, perhaps, among the dervishes of Cairo, have I seen any religion more repulsive. On the evening of our arrival, Gilman and I went into the large skating-rink where a German band was blowing its best, and a large concourse of young men and women from the various pious families of the place were disporting themselves. Dancing was not allowed them, and so, with their arms around each other"s waists, they were executing various gyrations on roller-skates to the sound of this music. Presently, as I sat rather listlessly looking on, I was struck by a peculiar change in the tune. Gilman, too, seemed in a way paralyzed by it; and, turning to him, I said, "Tell me what that music is." Then he came out of his daze and said, "Great heavens! it is "Nearer, my G.o.d, to Thee"--played as a waltz!" So it was. The whole thing, to any proper religious, moral, or esthetic sense, was ghastly.
These pious young men and women, who, on no account, were allowed to dance, were going through something far more indecent than any dancing I had ever seen, and to music which was a travesty of one of the most sacred of Christian compositions. I have long regarded camp-meetings as among the worst influences to which our rural youth are subjected--Joe Miller jokes in the pulpit, hysterics in the pews, with an atmosphere often blasphemous and sometimes erotic. A devoted country clergyman doing his simple duty--trying to lift his congregation to better views of life, partaking their joys and alleviating their sorrows, often a martyr to meddlesome deacons or to pompous trustees, and his wife a prey to the whimsical wives of opinionated pew-owners--such a man I deeply revere; but the longer I live the more I am convinced that the professional revivalist and the sensation preacher are necessarily and normally foes both to religion and to civilization.
CHAPTER LII
ENGLAND REVISITED--1885
In 1885, having resigned the presidency at Cornell, after twenty years of service, I went to Europe; my main purpose being to leave my successor untrammeled as to any changes which he might see fit to make. He was an old friend and student of mine whom, when the trustees had asked me to nominate a man to follow me I had named as the best man I knew for the work to be done; but, warm as were the relations between us, I made up my mind that it was best to leave him an entirely free hand for at least a year.
Crossing the ocean, I had the close companionship of Thomas Hughes ("Tom Brown"), and he was at his best. Among the stories he told was one of Browning. The poet one morning, hearing a noise in the street before his house, went to his window and saw a great crowd gazing at some Chinamen in gorgeous costumes who were just leaving their carriages to mount his steps. Presently they were announced as the Chinese minister at the Court of St.
James and his suite. A solemn presentation having taken place, Browning said to the interpreter, "May I ask to what I am indebted for the honor of his Excellency"s visit?" The interpreter replied, "His Excellency is a poet in his own country." Thereupon the two poets shook hands heartily. Browning then said, "May I ask to what branch of poetry his Excellency devotes himself?" to which the interpreter answered, "His Excellency devotes himself to poetical enigmas." At this Browning, recognizing fully the comic element in the situation, extended his hand most cordially, saying, "His Excellency is thrice welcome, he is a brother, indeed."
The month of October was pa.s.sed in the southwest of England, and there dwell in my mind recollections of Chatsworth, Haddon Hall, and Bristol; but, above all, of a stay with the historian Freeman at Wells. The whole life of that charming cathedral town and its neighborhood was delightful. Freeman"s kindness opened all doors to us. The bishop, Lord Arthur Hervey, showed us kindly hospitality at his grand old castle, which we had entered by a drawbridge over the moat. Of especial interest to me was a portrait of one of his predecessors--dear old Bishop Ken, whose morning and evening hymns are among the most beautiful ties between England and the United States. In the evening, dining with the magistrates and lawyers, I heard good stories, among them some characterizing various eminent members of the profession, and of these I especially remember one at the expense of the late Lord Chancellors Westbury and Cranworth. Lord Cranworth, after the amalgamation of law and equity, was for some time in the habit of going to sit with the new judges in order to familiarize himself with the reformed practice, whereupon some one asked Lord Westbury, "Why does "Cranny" go to sit with the judges?" to which Westbury answered, "Doubtless from a childish fear of being alone in the dark."
Next day I was invited to sit with the squires in the Court of Quarter Sessions, and was greatly interested in their mode of administering justice. There was a firmness, but at the same time a straightforward common sense about it all which greatly pleased me. A visit to Wells Cathedral with Freeman was in its way ideal; for never in all my studies of mediaeval buildings have I had so good a guide. But perhaps the most curious experience of our stay was an attendance upon a political meeting at Glas...o...b..ry, in the Gladstonian interest. The first speech was made by the candidate, Sir Hugh Davey; and in his anxiety to propitiate his hearers he began by addressing them as men whose ancestors had for centuries shown their devotion to free principles, and had especially given proof of this by hanging the last Abbot of Glas...o...b..ry at the old tower above the town. But, shortly afterward, when Freeman began his speech, it was evident that his love of historical truth and his devotion to church principles would not permit him to pa.s.s this part of Davey"s harangue unnoticed. Referring then respectfully to his candidate for Parliament, Freeman went on to say in substance that his distinguished friend was in error; that the last Abbot of Glas...o...b..ry was not a traitor, but a martyr--a martyr to liberty, and a victim of that arch-enemy of liberty, Henry VIII. Any one who had heard Freeman in America as a lecturer would have been amazed at his ability as a political speaker. As a lecturer, trying to be eloquent while reading a ma.n.u.script, he was generally ineffective and sometimes comical,--worse even than the general run of lecturers in the German universities, and that is saying much; but as a public speaker he was excellent--so much so that, congratulating him afterward, and bearing in mind the fact that he had been formerly defeated for Parliament, I a.s.sured him that if he would come to America and make speeches like that, we would most certainly put him in Congress and keep him there.
Toward the end of October we went on to Exeter, and there, at Heavitree Church, heard Bishop Bickersteth preach admirably, meeting him afterward at our luncheon with the vicar, and taking supper with him at the episcopal palace. He was perhaps best known in America as the author of the poem, "Yesterday, To-day, and Forever"; and of this he gave me a copy, remarking that every year he received from the American publisher a check for fifty pounds, though there was no copyright requiring any payment whatever. In his study he showed me a copy of "The Book Annexed,"
which presented the enrichments and emendations which a number of devout scholars and thinkers were endeavoring to make in the Prayer-book of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States, and he spoke with enthusiasm of these additions, which, alas! have never yet been adopted.
Next came a visit to Torquay, where Kent"s Cavern, with its prehistoric relics, interested me vastly. Looking at them, there could be no particle of doubt regarding the enormous antiquity of the human race. There were to be seen the evidences of man"s existence scattered among the remains of animals long ago extinct--animals which must have lived before geological changes which took place ages on ages ago. Mixed with remains of fire and human implements and human bones were to be seen not only bones of the hairy mammoth and cave-bear, woolly rhinoceros and reindeer, which could have been deposited there only in a time of arctic cold, but bones of the hyena, hippopotamus, saber-toothed tiger, and the like, which could have been deposited only when the climate was torrid. The conjunction of these remains clearly showed that man had lived in England early enough and long enough to pa.s.s through times of arctic cold, and times of torrid heat; times when great glaciers stretched far down into England and, indeed, into the Continent, and times when England had a land connection with the European continent, and the European continent with Africa, allowing tropical animals to migrate freely from Africa to the middle regions of England.
The change wrought by such discoveries as these, not only in England, but in Belgium, France, and elsewhere, as regards our knowledge of the antiquity of the human race and the character of the creation process, is one of the great things of our epoch.[11]
[11] I have discussed this more fully in my "History of the Warfare of Science with Theology," Vol. I, chap. vi.
Thence we visited various cathedral towns, being shown delightful hospitality everywhere. There remains vividly in my memory a visit to Worcester, where the dean, Lord Alwyn Compton, now Bishop of Ely, went over the cathedral with us, and showed us much kindness afterward at the deanery--a mediaeval structure, from the great window of which we looked over the Severn and the famous Cromwellian battle-field.
Salisbury we found beautiful as of old; then to Brighton and to "The Bungalow" of Halliwell-Phillips the Shaksperian scholar, and never have I seen a more quaint habitation. On the height above the town Phillips had brought together a number of portable wooden houses, and connected them with corridors and pa.s.sages until all together formed a sort of labyrinth; the only clue being in the names of the corridors, all being chosen from Shakspere, and each being enriched with Shaksperian quotations appropriate and pithy. At his table during our stay we met various interesting guests, one of whom suggested the idea regarding the secret of Carlyle"s cynicism and pessimism to which reference is made in my "Warfare of Science." Next came visits to various country houses, all delightful, and then a stay at Oxford, to which I was reinitiated by James Bryce; and for two weeks it was a round of interesting visits, breakfasts, luncheons, and dinners with the men best worth knowing at the various colleges. Interesting was a visit to All Souls College, which, having been founded as a place where sundry "clerks"
should pray for the souls of those killed at the battle of Crecy, had, as Sir William Anson, its present head, showed me, begun at last doing good work after four hundred years of uselessness. In the chapel was shown me the restored reredos, which was of great size, extending from floor to ceiling, taking the place of the chancel window usual in churches, and made up of niches filled with statues of saints. As the heads of all the earlier statues had been knocked off during the fanatical period, there had been subst.i.tuted, during the recent restoration, new statues of saints bearing the heads of noted scholars and others connected with the college, among which Max Muller once pointed out to me his own, and a very good likeness it was. Interesting to me were Bryce"s rooms at Oriel, for they were those in which John Henry Newman had lived: at that hearth was warmed into life the Oxford Movement. At one of the Oriel dinners, Bryce spoke of the changes at Oxford within his memory as enormous, saying that perhaps the greatest of these was the preference given to laymen over clergymen as heads of colleges. An example of this was the president of Magdalen. I had met him not many years before in Switzerland, as a young man, and now he had become the head of this great college, one of the foremost in the university. This impressed me all the more because my memory suggested a comparison between him and the president at my first visit, thirty years before: Warren, the present president, being an active-minded layman hardly over thirty, and his predecessor, Routh, a doctor of divinity, who was then in his hundredth year.