1837.]

Stratford — Scribbling Pilgrims.

151

WELL-like all dutiful travellers, I of course added my name to the list of illustrious pilgrims in the Album at Stratford-on-Avon. The birth-place and the tomb of Shakspeare! Who would go to England, and pass them by without a visit? What a host of grandissimos, beside the multitude of humbler gentry, have deigned to worship at this intellectual shrine ! — or, in other words, to follow the old cicerone up those narrow back stairs to the lowly apartment where the Bard of Nature was cradled, and there to scribble their names on the rude walls, or in the goodly quarto. There I saw the autographs of 'William Henry, Duke of Clarence,'' Walter Scott,' 'Countess Guicciolli,' 'Coleridge,' 'Charles Lamb,' and scores of similar names, beside an army from the United States. I copied some of the many inscriptions in the 'Ollapod' of an album, which you may like to have :

'Of mighty Shakspeare's birth, the room we see,
That where he died, in vain to find, we try;
Useless the search; for all immortal He,
And they who are immortal, never die.

Not being 'wise above what is written,' I shall spare you a rhapsody of my own on the occasion. To tell the truth, as ill-luck would have it, I could not get up a fit of enthusiasm. I was not inspired even by the impressive little sign which is poked out over the door, and tells the heedless urchin of Stratford, as well as the eager pilgrim from foreign climes, that

"The immortal SHAKSPEARE
Was born in this house.'

And then to be bowed up stairs and down,

'For only 'sixpence sterling!"'

'T was cheap, to be sure; but there was something droll in the idea. Of course, I spent half a crown beside, for seeing the tomb in the church, which, by-the-way, is a fine old edifice of its kind; and mine host has also shown me, gratis, the mulberry tree in his garden, which was planted by the great bard himself. They are going to have a grand jubilee' here, shortly; and an oration is to be delivered

by somebody whose name I have forgotten; but as he styles himself the American Tragedian,' you will know, I suppose, to whom this title belongs.*

LONDON IN MAY. - The 'fashionable season' is now in its prime. Parliament is sitting, and every body is in town. How strangely they arrange, or rather dis-arrange, the order of nature, here in England! Come to town in May, for the winter season, and go into the country in December, to spend Christmas! Yes, if you wish to see London in all its glory, come here in the blooming month of May. The queen of cities then puts on her gayest attire, and all her thousand attractions and amusements are ready to draw on your purse. First, if you like paintings, there is the Royal Academy exhibition in Somerset House, which, by the way, is soon to be removed to a part of the New National Gallery at Charing-Cross, which is now nearly completed, and is to receive the collection of old masters belonging to the nation, which have been exhibiting in Pall-Mall. Then there is the Society of British Artists, in the latter street, and two Societies of Painters, in water-colors; all of whose exhibitions are crowded with fashionables. They seem to pay special attention to this water-color department, and the present collections are really brilliant. In books, sculpture, natural curiosities, etc., there is that immense repository, the British Museum, freely open to all visitors. The Benevolent Society Anniversaries take place, this month, at Exeter Hall; and there is always a great musical treat at St. Paul's for the charity children, and also for the sons of the clergy. Speaking of music, I was thriftless enough to go to Exeter Hall, last evening, to the great musical festival, where six hundred performers, beside the organ and big drum, concerted together a concord of sweet sounds.' I wonder what a Connecticut singing-master, fortified, with a pine pitch-pipe and a Musica Sacra,' would have said to it! The Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria were to be there; and when they appeared in the front gallery-seat, the whole audience rose, and gave them three cheers, which were, of course, ' graciously acknowledged' by their highnesses, with sundry bows. The Princess is now seventeen, very unnecessarily pretty, and dresses with a neatness and simplicity which would be a pattern for New-York belles. She looks intelligent and dignified, without affectation, and is, no doubt, well educated, and highly accomplished. She is evidently the darling of the people, and, I hope, deservedly so; but she must be a very fine girl, if she can wear all her honors, and sip all the flattery which is paid to her, and yet not be spoiled. Her mother, the Duchess, seemed to be a restless, bustling sort of person, and I set her down as being, at least, no more than a woman.

Among the singers, Philips stands highest. He has a rich and highly-cultivated bass voice. He sang some fine airs in Balfé's new opera of The Maid of Artois,' a few weeks after this. In this, I

*MR. GEORGE JONES, who kindly took measures, when in England, (where he was born,) to prolong the still very respectable literary reputation of SHAKSPEARE, by delivering a most inflated salmagundi at Stratford.

had the good fortune to hear that wonderful vocalist, MALIBRAN. Those who saw her when she visited New-York, some years since, would scarcely recognise the present brilliant tones, and great compass of her voice, so much has it improved: and not only does she astonish and delight you, by such singing as you never heard before, but her manners and acting are equally extraordinary and fascinating. She is rather small and short in figure, and her face, though not handsome, is peculiarly expressive and intelligent. I saw her several times in this opera, and also in 'La Somnambula,' and Bethooven's opera of Fidelio, which is her chef d'œuvre.

The only female vocalist who is named in the same breath with Malibran, is JULIA GRISI, of the Italian Opera. Grisi is tall, very pretty, and lady-like, sings sweetly, and is evidently a great favorite. The queen attended her benefit the other evening, beside many a 'bright particular star.' I had a good chance to stare at her majesty, who is tall and slim, and looks very like a queen. The popular feeling seems to have changed in her favor; and I heard her styled 'an excellent and exemplary woman.' I saw her a few days since, with the king, riding out to Windsor, after the levee at St. James' Palace. But to the singers.

La Blache, a portly, good-looking personage, has the most tremendous bass voice I ever heard. Tamburini and Rubini are the tenors. The King's Theatre, or Opera-House, is one of the most extensive and elegant, certainly the most expensive, in Europe.

I have had the good luck to hear BRAHAM, too, who yet looks youthful, although now about sixty, and whose singing seems as much prized as ever. But time fails me to tell you of Liston, Macready, Charles Matthews, Jr., and other lions of the day, who figure where the Siddons and Garricks have held the mirror up to nature.'

We have passed a leisure hour in finding out some of the antiquities and literary curiosities of the metropolis; such as Boar's Head Tavern, (Mrs. Quickly's), where Falstaff, Poins, and 'Hal' called for their cups of sack. In Buckingham-street, near us, is the house where Peter the Great lodged, when in London. 43 Lombard-street was the residence of Jane Shore. In the Old Bailey, Jonathan Wild and Oliver Goldsmith lodged. Chapter Coffee-House, where Dr. Johnson and his coterie frequented, is yet the resort of penny-aliners and newspaper-readers. In Bolt Court, Fleet-street, we saw the literary leviathan's residence, and we found also those of Byron, Blackstone, Cowley, Hogarth, Pope, Lord Bacon, Garrick, Gibbon, Handel, Hans Holbein, Hume, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Thomas Lawrence, West, Sheridan, Sterne, Spenser, etc.

YORK MINSTER. — I did not repent varying my route a little to visit the ancient city of York, and its noble cathedral, unquestionably the finest Gothic structure in Great Britain, if not in the world. This grand edifice is five hundred and twenty-four feet in length, and, of course, exceeds St. Paul's on this score; but in other respects, they

VOL. X.

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can scarcely be compared, as the style of architecture is entirely dif ferent. It stands in bold relief above all the rest of the town, albeit not on a rising ground. To use the words of the book, it is like a mountain starting out of a plain, and thus attracting all the attention of the spectator. The petty, humble dwellings of men appear to crouch at its feet, while its own vastness and beauty impress the observer with awe and sublimity.' It dates its origin as far back as A. D. 642;* but the present walls seem to have been erected in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. The screen and the choir, particularly, are elaborate and exquisite specimens of the Gothic style. It seems strange to us, who make the most of our room, that they should only use so small a portion of these cathedrals for what one would suppose was their chief purpose divine worship. Service can only be held in what is called the choir,' an enclosure near the centre of the church, which has seats for perhaps from one hundred to two hundred persons. I went in, during the evening prayers, and had an opportunity of hearing the gigantic organ, accompanied by the choir, in some fine anthems. The whole of the

east wing of the cathedral was fired in 1829, by Martin, the lunatic, who secreted himself behind the organ, during service, and so thoroughly effected his purpose, that the whole interior, including the choir, was destroyed. The great painted glass window, seventy-five feet by thirty-two, (capable of admitting a large three-story house,) was saved as if by miracle. It is remarkable, that the whole of this wing has been restored, so precisely in the original form, as scarcely to be suspected for a modern work. The architect was Robert Smirke, Esq. It is asserted, by the knowing ones, that a work of equal magnitude to York Cathedral could not be performed, at the present day, for ten millions of dollars, nor in less time than fifty or even a hundred years.

HOUSE OF LORDS.

There is no admittance for plebeians to this 'august assembly,' without a written order from a peer; but we were not to be daunted on this wise. We wrote a billet to some of the great 'uns, as follows:

'To His Grace the Duke of Wellington:

'MY LORD DUKE: The undersigned, a stranger from the United States, presumes to solicit your Grace's permission to visit the House of Lords this evening.

'I am, my Lord Duke,

'Your Grace's Humble Servant,

This circular was addressed also to the Duke of Buccleugh, Viscount Melbourne, Marquis of Londonderry, etc., for the Lords; and to O'Connell, Hume, Spring Rice, and Sergeant Talfourd, for the Commons. To insure success, I took a cab, and called on their graces and lordships in person. At Whitehall-Gardens, the powdered and gold-laced footman, gracefully bowing for a sixpence to drink my

In the crypt, I was shown the clephant's tusk, on which the first deed of the land was inscribed.

health,' presented me with a note, neatly sealed with the duke's arms, which purported thus:

'The Duke of Buccleugh presents his compliments to Mr. enclose an order for the House of Lords.'

and has the honor to

This for my friend. Now to the premier's for myself. The viscount's house is certainly not more ostentatious than his neighbors.

On business?' asked the porter, as I presented my 'little affair.' 'Yes,' said I, stoutly.

Then you must take it to the office, in Downing-street. His lordship transacts no business at home.'

Oh! it is private business - very special, and requires an immediate answer,' returned I, remembering the advantage of an air of consequence, with these 'gentlemen's gentlemen.'

The official disappeared, and soon brought me a roughly-folded note, addressed in true great men's hieroglyphics:

It enclosed the order. Next, to Apsley House: The duke will send an answer.' To Picadilly: The Marquis not in town.' To Cavendish-Square: The duke will be at home shortly; an answer at two o'clock.' To Langham-Place: Answer written on back of request:

DANIEL O'CONNELL'

'Finding Mr. is not a resident of a slave-holding state, Mr. O'Connell has the honor to comply with his request.' 'Admit the bearer to the gallery.' To Guildhall: Mr. Talfourd, the author of 'Ion,' to whom I had a letter, is in court, examining a witness. Asked the constable to give him my note, when he was disengaged; but he pushed inside, before judge and jury, thinking I had something touching the case in hand. Luckily the sergeant was busy, and I escaped. A brace of orders came from him in season, so I supplied my friends; for no member can give an order for more than one person at a time.

6

We went to the House of Lords at five P. M. The room is about the same size as that of the Commons, but looks, of course, a little more 'genteel.' The throne is a large arm-chair, under a crimson canopy, not particularly splendid. The members' seats are elevated on each side, and covered with red moreen. The ministerial bench' is in front, near the woolsack and the bishops; and their party (at present whigs) all sit on the same side, while the opposition, or tories, occupy the other, facing their opponents. In this house, the tories, or conservatives, of course predominate. The members were in plain citizen's dress, except the bishops, the chancellor, and the clerks, who all wear a black gown and big wigs. When we entered, a witness was being examined in an election-bribery case: Presently the house was called to order, and the chancellor (Lord Cottenham) took his seat on the woolsack, which is nothing more than a goodsized red ottoman. An ordinary-looking man, who it appeared