« VorigeDoorgaan »
This practice subsisted, with certain establishment of mail coaches, were evasions by reason of poverty, to the the most satisfactory means of adtime of Queen Anne. “The Statutes vancing civilisation. With regard to of the Streets," in the time of Eliza- roads, however, it should not be lost beth, were careful enough for the pre- sight of, that the country at large, servation of silence in some things. and consequently civilisation, is in no They prescribed that "no man should small degree indebted to an earlier blow any horn in the night, or whistle barbarism. And here I cannot but after the hour of nine of the clock in observe, that the Providence which the night, under pain of imprison- gifts inventors for the benefit of manment;" and, what was a harder thing kind, also sometimes withholds invento keep, they also forbade a man to make tions, and puts them off for a season, any " sudden outcry in the still of the that during the interval some good night, as making any affray or beat- may be worked out, which, in a more ing his wife." The beating of wives perfect state of things, might not have has so increased now, Eusebius, as to taken place. The old roads of Engrequire an Act of Parliament of pro- land went up hill and down dale, feartection; but as to whistling or hoot- ful ascents and descents; but for ing night and day, especially by them we should even now perhaps juveniles, it is surprising that noisy have had but scant communication habit has not attracted the legisla. with those very parts which require ture's attention when they put down most an encouragement for cultivaless offensive noises. In 1694, license tion, and an intercourse of humanity. was granted for providing the city It is a pleasant chapter which gives with glass lights (convex) for twenty- the history of our means of travel in one years, at the expiration of which England, on foot, on horseback, and the city relapsed into darkness. Then by coaches, and finally by railroads. was a strange provision made for "Sir Robert Carey, determining to lighting by the citizens (though pro. be the first to tell James that he was fessedly to protect it from robbery King of England, stole out of Richand murder), from the hour of six to mond Palace at three o'clock in the eleven at night. Defoe wrote a morning of Thursday, the 24th March, pamphlet suggesting a plan for glori. and reached Edinburgh on the Saturously illuminating the city," that any day night, the 26th, the king having part of London will be as safe and gone to bed by the time he had knocked pleasant at midnight as at noonday, at the gate. This ride of four hundred and burglary totally impracticable." miles in seventy hours gives one an eleHappy days of illumination ours, . vated notion of the travelling accomwhen glass lights have been succeeded modations of two centuries and a-half by gas lights. The difference of one ago." " Although the post was not estaletter bas done wonders.
blished by law, there were postmas“Evil May - Day" describes the ters at the end of the sixteenth cenoutbreak and affray of the 'prentices tury on all the great lines of road, in the ninth year of Henry VIII., who, for a sufficient consideration, in which also I find an interesting would furnish such a traveller as Sir dialogue between the under-sheriff, Robert Carey with abundant horses, "Master Thomas Moore," and that that he might ride till they dropped, as memorable worthy of good old Bristol, indeed he records one of his horses to Sebastian Cabot, whose life was saved have done.” Travelling on horseback by bis friend, but his valuable papers had been so long the custom, that the had been destroyed.
English riding-horses had established Next to gas and steam, but pre. their fame. This was an extraordiceding them in time, the art of road- Dary case of Sir Robert Carey.* In making, and postal regulations, and general, travelling was slow; as ex
* This travel of Sir Robert Carey is told by himself. In the British Chronicle for 1759, Feb. 21-23, I find notices of these memoirs, including this journey to Scotland. The British Chronicle heads the notice thus: “In the memoirs of Sir Robert Cary, Earl of Monmouth, just published, there are many personal anecdotes, which, tho' they have little relation to the public, are yet very entertaining. One or two of these ample, the same news of the queen but that did not take place till moch reached not York till Sunday the 27th. later in the year. I have rather a The year 1784 saw the great change romantic story to tell you, Eusebius in travelling. It was “ on the 2d of ("a romance in real life," as it is called August 1784 the first mail-coach left in the newspaper phrase), respecting London for Bristol ; and from that this gentleman, an ancestor of mine, evening till the general establishment who travelled, a hundred and ten years of the railway system, the mail was ago, from Bath to London in a chaise, one of the wonders and glories of our and with a guide. He was what was country. You and I are old enough, called à gay man of the world-lived Eusebius, to have waited its coming much in Paris—and I have letters of in from London, as it happily not un his somewhere, written to his wife in frequently did in our days, covered the country in England, giving curion with laurels, and announcing some accounts of his adventures, and comglorious victory. It looked itself per- plaining that the French princes da sonified victory, and its horn sounded not pay their gambling debts. A as the trump of fame. I have by me, was killed by being thrown out among curious family papers, a docu- his landaulet, at his country eta ment of the date of about twenty and dragged. His face alone, whd years before that time, showing a was very handsome, escaped dama state of travelling accommodation The romantic incident is this, wb very different indeed from the pre- I have heard my father tell: A sent, or that of the establishment in a handsome equipage and a of the mail.
riders called at his house, and begi Here is a warrant of post-office to his portrait. She only wanted enable a private gentleman to go from head, which was accordingly London to Bath and back again. out of the canvass and presente
The flourishing band imitated in her. It is equally curious that the printing, so unlike our unpretend- father, who was too delicate 10 1 ing business documents, is curious. I impertinent inquiries, never copy it verbatim :
her name, rank, or condition ; " GENTLEMEN.-You are required on many years afterwards the pol sight hereof to furnish the bearer, Edwd. was returned without now
was returned without notice Perkins, Esq., with a Post-Chaise, suffi- whom, or letter, with a printer cient Horses, and a Guide from hence to tract from the advertisements Bath, and so back againe, Hee paying the time, detailing the accident and Lawful Rates; and for so doing, this I have his portrait in my P shall be your warrant. Dated at the sion, and he certainly was very Gen!). Letter-Office in London, the thir- some. teenth day of Jany. 1745. GEO. SHELVOCKE, C.L.S.
Before the improvements To all Deputy Post-Masters and
post-office brought about by N others, whom it may concern."
mer, “the Loudon post of N
night did not reach Worceste A guide to Bath necessary a hun mingham, or Norwich till Wed dred and ten years ago! Is not that morning, and Exeter on TX curious? Why a guide ? I thought morning." And now days ar at first it must have meant a guard, read hours! Besides, boys on being the year of the Rebellion of '45; back then carried the letter-ba
we shall select as truly characteristio. He had for some time been emp Deputy Warden of one of the Northern Marches, a place, in Queen Elizabet of great consequence, to keep the borderers from plundering each other; an his retreat from Court, he married a widow of small fortune, by which he d the Queen and many of his friends. It happened, however, that he had a 1: hand, which was to be decided at St Alban's by reason that a great plague n year at London, which had forced the Queen to Windsor, and the Courts of other convenient towns." The account in the memoirs of his appearing 1 Queen, and her behaviour, is amusing and characteristic. Query.Was t son or relative of the above-mentioned Peter Carew! Those were no orthography.
robberies were of course frequent. a speech of Richard's at Bosworth " The highwayman was the great Field. How unlike the curt speech of travelling hero of that day." I my. Shakespeare's Richard ! But Shakeself, Eusebius, remember travelling speare, at the time of this dialogue, at post to London in the early morn the breaking-up of the Shrewsbury ing, with a fearful suspicion of and school for holidays in 1569, was but look-out for a highwayman over the five years of age. Then was in the heath.
bud that genius which was to realise I must take you a little back in the critic schoolboy's views of dratime; we are travelling too fast, Eu- matic excellence, if indeed he went in sebius. Here is our friend Mr Knight his estimate of the dramatic art becalling us back to Shrewsbury, and an yond the disgust which had overcome interview with the accomplished Sir him, having just witnessed the acting Philip Sidney, and his friend Fulke of the mayor of Shrewsbury's play. Greville. But as we are supposed to Theirs is a classic dialogue ; but I be in Shrewsbury, I must a moment refer you to it. And you will do well, refer again to improvement in travel. Eusebius, to read before or after it the ling, by telling you that I won't say in charming imaginary conversation bewhat year travelling towards Shrews- tween these same personages, which bury was so bad, that a coach, as the yon will find in the first volume of Walcoachman himself informed me, used ter Savage Landor. There is coin of a to upset once a fortnight, I daresay true metal, and the Muses have put oftener. On one of these occasions I their stamp upon it. There is vigorhappened to be an unfortunate travels ous, racy, pure-worded English prose, ler; the coach went topsy-turvy, and and poetry that steals into the heart I was not very severely damaged. I by its grace and elegance, wins it by can see now the coachman looking its tenderness, or raises it by noble down upon us through the window, to thought. But I know your admirawhich he had climbed, saying “ Lack- tion, shall I say veneration, for the
a-day! Well, well, this is lucky-it strong man. But the subject pow nire is nothing to last week; I then upset is Sir Philip Sidney. I have his of the six beauties." And notwithstanding Arcadia now before me, dedicated to mardi B this disaster, I was amused with a his illustrious sister, the Countess of it het dramatic incident. The coach had Pembroke. Here it is, the old edition mich ar overtaken two strolling actors, who 1633. The back of the page, on which vertice made a hard bargain to be taken on to is the frontispiece, the family arms,
i Shrewsbury. Little enough they paid; has, in an old handwriting, probably it is but when the coach was upset, these of the date of the publication, beauti. JpFor actors were thrown off the coach, and fully written, but obscure to one not
I saw one astride a stake in the hedge acquainted with old writing, six Latin orto —and there he sat, and waved his hand lines, hexameter and pentameter. Unchool with a theatrical air to his companion, der, they are rewritten in a bolder Pantal who was lying on the road, and spont- hand by Samuel Hall, whoever he Teing as if he were a Richard the Third, may be. The lines show that Sir
“ Run to the inn we have not long Philip Sidney had, like Virgil, beseit since passed, and order out a chaise queathed his Arcadia to the flames.
w to Shrewsbury at the expense of the They areod les home coach." You perceive, Eusebius, I
* have taken you from good company “Ipse tuam moriens sed conjuge teste jubebas ied ebedom to bad, from Sir Philip Sidney and
Arcadiam sævis ignibus esse cibum. Fulke Greville (afterwards Lord Si meruit mortem quia flammam accendit
amoris, Brooke) to these unconscionable va
Mergi non úri debuit iste liber. Elisio grants. But even here, Eusebius, the In librum quæcunque cadat sententia, che players must come in again. For in
nullâ ich this very dialogue, Greville says, - Debuit ingenium morte perire tuum.” he body “ Bravo1 Philip, you should join a Anlagens fellowship of players." For the youth As I am not aware that these lines
ful Sidney had been as critical as a are at all known, I have thought appearin modern reviewer upon the language it worth while to attempt a transla
of play-wrights of that period. It is tion.
imprordnet ght about rodon petit reach Warner
e time beer 1 Queen Elise & each other, le, by which , that he bodil a great players and the Corel
* Witness your spouse, you dying did be. Greville, that wbat was last and worqueath
thiest of his fame was, that he was Your own Arcadia to consuming fire.
the friend of Sir Philip Siduey. I Better to quench by drowning, if it death Deserve, for its inflaming love's desire.
gather this from a note of Mr Landors", Whate'er the sentence on your book, the wbich I quote, not only for the fact, wreath
but the graceful truth of the comment. That crowns your genius never will ex- “ Lord Brooke is less known than the
personage with whom he converses, That genius of Sir Philip Sidney
and upon whose friendship he had the caught the infection of the “Concetti”
virtue and good sense to found his
chief distinction. On his monument of the Italian poets, wbich, even in the musical Italian, and that as uttered
at Warwick, written by himself, we by their most favoured authors, you
read that he was servant to Queen have criticised as elaborated trifles.
Elizabeth, counsellor of King James, I call from the Sonnets the follow
and friend of Sir Philip Sidney." No ing.
the It is graceful, courtly, and such
other man would have written as might well become a true man and
virtue;" there is an after-epitaph in a loving man to write. It is very
that word of W. S. L., and it is large. pleasant, Eusebius, to see something
It is quite a fit place, for you are of the feminine growing out of the
imagination-led, Eusebius, among anvery dignity of manhood-pleasantto
cient monumental glories, for the look back upon the world as it was
reading the lines of another epitaph, nearly three centuries ago, and see
and written by a true poet-Ben Jonknightly men, who could be heroes son
son,—that upon the Countess-dowager
that upon when occasion demanded action, lov
of Pembroke, for whom Sir Pbilip ing to lie under green trees, play with
Sidney wrote his Arcadia. Falke thought in verse, and quietly let the Greville's thought seems to be embosunshine steal over their hearts, while died in it. it gilded the leafage that bowed over "Underneath this sable hearse them, and illumined the hands that
Lies the subject of all verse, writ such lines as these-renouncing
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.
Death, ere thou hast slain another, fame, and making it their own :
Fair, and wise, and good, as she, “ Stella, thinke not that I by verse seeke
Time shall throw his dart at thee." fame, Who seeke, who hope, who love, who live
O the venerable dust of hoar antibut thee;
quity! ever touching, with its grey Thine eyes my pride, thy lips mine his- dayless light, the carved wood and torie!
sculptured stone, under the o'er-archIf thou praise not, all other praise is shame. ing roof of Death's sanctuary; as if Nor so ambitious am I as to frame
with a purpose and willing charity A nest for my young praise in Laurell tree; that even these old memorials should In truth, I sweare I wish not there should have their grey of age. How solemnbee
ly, in the silence, and how tenderly Grav'd in mine epitaph a poet's name.
covereth it and softeneth it the outNe, if I would, I could just title make, ward histories of the dead; likest it
That any laud to me thereof should grow, self to that dust underneath, which, Without my plumes from other wings I
colourless, unsubstantial, purified, the take:
escaped spirits may, to our thought, For nothing from my wit or will doth flow, in the holy twilight, come in their love Since all my words thy beautie doth endite, to visit, and not grieve! And why And love doth hold my hand, and makes should any of us grieve, Eusebius, me write."
meditating upon these old gone-by He would not, you perceive, Euse things, gone-by people? seeing that bius, have engraved a poet's name on the same spirit of love and gentleness his epitaph; but he has a noble epic which was in them, is yet, as is the taph enclosed in another's—in that of same sunshine of our skies, in the Lord Brooke, this Fulke Greville, human hearts of to-day, and thus that with whom you will hear him con- the world is still young-young here, verse in Once upon a Time. The and young elsewhere,-believing, as epitaph, written by himself, Fulke we do, that the dead of whom we read
are even now alive as we ourselves; and, they both speak. Unnoticeable are perhaps, if we knew all, we should all men, perish all, as Horace says, rather have cause to envy them than without the Vates, the poet, the histhey us ; and so the poverty of our torian, or the biographer. The dead state is kindly made riches in our eyes. and the living are alike buried and It ever was your habit to draw a undiscernible of themselves. They cheerful healthy moral from things of are but moles, invisible till the sun serious aspect. I believe that these of literature shines upon them; then thoughts will fall in with your humour, with what activity in all their comings find ready acceptance in your mind, and goings do they show themselves ! as food and nourishment of the eternal I will follow the example of Judge humanities. And now, Eusebius, it Blackstone, and take my leave in is time I should bring my remarks to verse. I have put the moral of this a close. I mean to pursue the subject, universal life into a sonnet; accept it Once upon a Time, in other letters, as the Finis. with reference, and perhaps in parts
SONNET. without reference, to Mr Knight's The earth bears fruit in life, and fruit in charming volumes. You may ask why death; . I take up Once upon a Time for my com A living world, a vast necropolis, ments, being, as you know, no anti
Old fabled grounds of Jupiter and Dis. quarian. Simply because I took up the
Humanity the root, which buddeth breath,
Whose beauty in purer spirit vanisheth, book, quite by accident, and was so de. And passeth in that change to higher bliss. lighted with it that I determined to give The ripe tree drops its seed, which death's some account of it. Nor have I done
abyss this out of any friendship with the
Taketh, and for new spring-time nourisheth. author, with whom I am totally un
There is a common citizenship between acquainted, as I am with some other The dead and living. What they had we of his works, which on inquiry I find
have he has written. But I have also had In this our hand-built city; in that unseen, a pleasure in seeing the past genera
Not made with hands, still live the good tions appear upon an imaginary stage,
There is no death; we do but shift the scene, and act their parts over again.
To take up our new freedom in the grave. The living and the dead crowd the world of literature alike. In that
NOTES ON CANADA AND THE NORTH-WEST STATES OF AMERICA.
ONE of the most certain indications reaches at last the goal upon which that a country is in an early stage of all his hopes have been set for many development, is to be found in the im- weeks past—which has formed the portance which attaches in the eyes staple topic of conversation - and of the inhabitants to those localities which he has invested with charms, in which a few of them have congre- whose absence have only served to gated together, and which containing render his imagination more particua population that would be deemed larly susceptible to their merits ; for unworthy of notice elsewhere, here it is certain that, if hope deferred form the nuclei of future towns, and makes the heart sick, it also bas a furnish, to a greater or less extent, strong tendency to enhance the value supplies for present wants. The tra of the thing hoped for. It requires a veller, whose wanderings have hith- heart not easily turned, to travel in erto been confined to more civilised the remoter provinces of America; regions, will not improbably expe- and an imagination not prone to inrience a feeling of disappointment, dulge too freely in the pleasures of when, after an arduous journey, he anticipation. For some weeks past