There is, at all events, an imaginary pleasure in turning from the wearing out turmoil of a statesman's life, to what the world believes the tranquil dreams of a poet's existence. But there are few things the worldling so little understands as literary industry, or so little sympatizes with as literary care. We have no inclination to over-rate either its toils or its pleasures, and perhaps no life is more abundantly supplied with both. Its toils must be evident to any who have noted the increasing literary labor which is necessary to produce the ordinary sources of comforts; but its high and holy enjoyments are not so apparent; they are so different from those of almost all others as not to be easily explained or understood; but above all other gifts, the marvellous gift of poesy is a distinction conferred by the Almighty, and should be acknowledged and treasured as such. We know little of a poet's studies except by their imperishable produce, and it is a common but ill-founded prejudice to imagine regularity or diligence incompatible with high genius. Genius is neither above law, nor opposed to it; but as many have a poetic taste and temperament without the inspiration, the world is apt to mistake the eccentricity of the pretender for the outward and visible sign of genius. Whether or not the poet of the Porch-house of Chertsey had the actual poetic fire we do not venture to determine. Abraham Cowley takes a prominent position, amongst the poets of our land, and the event "com ful times in which he lived, and his partici- by her exertions, procured him a classical pation in their tumults give him additional education at Westminister School. She livinterest in all the relations of his anxious and ed to see him loved, honored, and great, not over-happy life. It is recorded of him and what was better still, and more uncomthat he became a poet in consequence of mon, grateful. At the age of fifteen he pubreading the Faery Queene, which chance lished a volume called "Poetic Blossoms," threw in his way while yet a child. In al- which he afterwards described as lusion to this, Dr. Johnson gave his well- mendable extravagancies in a boy." He obknown definition of genius: "A mind of large tained a scholarship in Trinity College, Camgeneral powers, accidentally determined to bridge, in 1636, and there took his degree; some particular direction." We had almost but was ejected by the Parliament, and thence dared to say this is rather the definition of a removed to Oxford. Shortly after, he folphilosopher than of one who comprehended lowed the Queen Henrietta to Paris, as Secrethe spirituality of a marvellous gift. Abra- tary to the Earl of St. Albans, and was emham Cowley-the posthumous son of a Lon- ployed in the court of the exiles in the most don grocer owed much to his mother. She, confidential capacity. In 1656 he returned to England, and was immediately arrested as | prietor, the Rev. John Crosby Clarke, and a suspected spy. He submitted quietly-the the house is now known as "Cowley House." royalists thought too quietly-to the dominion of the Protector, but his whole life proved that he was no traitor. At the Restoration, that great national disappointment, his claims upon the ungrateful monarch were met by a taunt and a false insinuation-he was told that his pardon was his reward! Wood said, "he lost the place by certain enemies of the Muses;" certain "friends of the Muses," however, procured for him the lease of the Porchhouse and farm at Chertsey, held under the Queen, and the great desire of his life-solitude was obtained. The place still seems a meet dwelling for a poet, and is, perhaps, even more attractive to strangers than St. Anne's hill. The porch, which caused his residence to be called "The Porch-house," was taken down during the last century by the father of its present pro It is situated near the bridge which crosses a narrow and rapid stream, in a lonely part of Guildford Street; a latticed window which overhangs the road is the window of the room in which the poet expired; on the outside wall Mr. Clarke has recorded his reason for removing the porch. "The porch of this house, which projected ten feet into the highway, was taken down in the year 1786, for the safety and accommodation of the public." "Here the last accents flowed from Cowley's tongue." The appearance of the house from Guild The large outer porch of Cowley's house had chambers above it, and beneath the window in front a tablet was affixed, upon which was inscribed the epitaph "upon the living author" which Cowley had written for himself, whilst living in retirement here, commencing "Hic, O Viator, sub lare parvulo, It is represented in its original condition in the two views ford Street, is no index to its size or conveniences. You enter by a side gate, and the new front of the dwelling is that of a comfortable and gentlemanly home; the old part it is said was built in the reign of James the First, and what remains is sufficiently quaint to bear out the legend; the old and new are much mingled, and the modern part consists of one or two bed-rooms, a large dining-room, and a drawing-room, commanding a delicious garden view, the meanderings of the stream, and a long tract of luxuriant meadows, terminated by the high and richly timbered ground of St. Anne's Hill. A portion of the old stairway is preserved, the wood is not as has been stated oak, but sweet chestnut. One of the rooms is panelled with oak, and Cowley's study is a small closet-like chamber, the window looking towards St. Anne's Hill. It is never difficult to imagine a poet in a small chamber, particularly when his mind may imbibe inspiration from so rich and lovely a landscape. Beside the group of trees, be* Some additional rooms have been added to the house by the same occupant, who has, however, religiously preserved all the old rooms, which still exhibit the "fittings" that existed in Cowley's time. The bed-chambers are wainscotted with oaken panels. The staircase is a very solid structure, with ornamental balusters, leading toward the small study in which the poet wrote, a little back room, about five feet wide, looking upon the garden. It may be distinguished in our back view of the house, by figure placed at the window. Cowley ended his life in this house at the early age of forty-nine. a neath whose shadow the poet frequently sat, there is a horse chestnut of such exceeding size and beauty, that it is worthy a pilgrimage, and no lover of nature could look upon it without mingled feelings of reverence and affection. Here then amid such tranquil scenes, and such placid beauty, the "melancholy Cowley," passed the later days of his anxious existence; here we may fancy him receiving Evelyn and Denham, the poets and men of letters of his troubled day, who found the disappointments of courtly life more than their philosophy could endure. Here his friendly biographer, Doctor Spratt, cheered his lonely hours. Cowley was one of those fortunate bards who obtain fame and honor during life. His learning was deep, his reading extensive, his acquaintance with mankind large. "To him," says Denham in his famous elegy, "To him no author was unknown, Yet what he wrote was all his own." His biographer adds, "There was nothing affected or singular in his habit, or person, or gesture; he understood the forms of good breeding enough to practise them without burdening himself or others." This indeed is the perfection of good breeding and good sense. Having obtained, as we have said, the Porch-house at Chertsey, his mind dwelt with pleasure-a philosophic pleasure-upon the hereafter, which he hoped for in this life of tranquillity, and the silent labor he so dearly loved; but he was destined to prove the reality of his own poesy: "Oh life, thou Nothing's younger brother, So like that one might take one for the other." The career of Abraham Cowley was never sullied by vice,* he was loyal without being servile, and at once modest, independent and sincere. His character is eloquently drawn by Doctor Spratt. "He governed his passions with great moderation, his virtues were never troublesome or uneasy to any, whatever he disliked in others he only corrected by the silent reproof of a better practice." He died at Chertsey on the 28th of July, 1667, and was interred in Westminster Abbey. A throng of nobles followed him to his grave, and the worthless king who had deserted him is reported to have said, that Mr. Cowley had not left a better man behind him in England. It is said the body of Cowley was removed from Chertsey by water, thus making the Thames he loved so well, the highway to his grave; there is something highly poetic in this idea of a funeral, so still and solemn, with the oars dropping noiselessly in the blue water. Pope in allusion to it, says: "What tears the river shed, When the sad pomp along his banks was led;" which rather inclines us to the belief, that in reading is not the true one, this, as in many other instances, the poetic "The muses oft in lands of vision play:" but the fact that he died at Chertsey, as much respected as a man, as he was admired as a poet, is certain, and his house is often visited by strangers, who are permitted to see his favorite haunts by the kindness of its proprietor, who honors the spot so hallowed by *Brayley, in his History of Surrey, states that Cowley accompanied by his friend Dean Spratt, having been to see a "friend," did not set out for his walk home until it was too late, and had drunk so deep, that they both lay out in the fields all night; this gave Cowley the fever that carried him off. Brayley's authority for this slander (which is not borne ont by the poet's previous course of life), is "Spence's Anecdotes." memories of "the melancholy Cowley:"-he who considered and described "business" as: "The contradiction to his fate." But we must postpone our farther rambles for the present. Chertsey loses half its romantic interest by the intrusion of the progressive agents of our time-our noisy time, of which the spirit willingly brooks no souvenirs of monastic repose. The old quaint quiet town has now its railroad, and the shades of its heroes have departed. TRAUGOTT BROMME ON THE UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA, TEXAS AND THE COLONIES. E have at different times, by reviews ally insulted by the weak remarks of every wandering ignoramus, we would by no means fall into the opposite error of attaching no importance whatever to the good opinion or Wor translations, give our of a entertained by the world at large. readers some idea of what people think of us, in continental Europe. But there are two Should any feel disposed to smile at such sides to every thing-or there is an universal an expression, as "the consciousness of our dualism, as Emerson declares-which is per- existence," we will take the liberty of citing fectly true as to the method which might be a few curious instances, for the authenticity adopted in the execution of this self-imposed of which we assume the entire responsibility task. One class of readers understand by-instances which may perhaps astonish a the word people the beau monde, and would few even of the better informed. There are have us invariably follow the school of the in many districts (not altogether provincial) Countesses Hahn-Hahn or Ladies Blessington of Italy and France great numbers, who or Milords Fitz-Flummery, contented if we would not even in America be classed as ighave but a fair name in society. Another and norant in regard to other matters, who have more reasonable class would be satisfied to not the remotest idea as to the nature or geknow the opinion of the literati, or perhaps ography of our country. An instance has the poets, particularly when they do fit hom- come to our knowledge of an intelligent Hunage to our "grand old woods," and to Niag-garian who, by intercourse with the world, ara. Others regard with most respect a plain literal account of our branches of industry— our railroads, factories, and canals. They would have the country judged purely from a mechanical or practical point of view-contenting themselves as to other matters with the reflection, "Oh, sensible people care very little about any thing else. If they know what we produce, and what our resources are, they'll understand and respect us sufficiently." Now the opinion of each of these classes has its weight, and though not of the greatest ultimate importance, is always to be respect ed. If we were questioned as to the views of which of them we yielded full regard, we should candidly say, "to none." It is the general, universal opinion, of a nation at large that we deem authoritative, and none other. It is that popular opinion so readily yet often so falsely formed (at times from trifles of almost incredible levity), and which when once fairly developed, is well-nigh ineradicable. In a word, it is to the views of the people. had acquired a fluency in five languages, and who inquired of an American gentleman if his country were not situated somewhere in England. The late Mr. Cooper, when placing his daughters at a celebrated seminary on the continent, found a great curiosity had been created by the rumor that they were coming, some supposing they were black, some that they were copper-colored, and all unprepared to see American girls looking for all the world like the young German ladies. We have heard of a similar instance in which an English gentleman-a Cambridge graduate-inquired of an American what was the current language of the United States. Lastly, we may cite the case of an English author, well known to our own public, and favorably mentioned not long since in these pages, who was under the impression that owing to the great emigration from Germany, the English language must with us, in a very few years, yield to that of the Vaterland. Now our commercial and industrial relations are se riously hindered by this absurd ignorance of America, which in a word prevails to such an extent, that we have known an American, who-probably from having been over-questioned and speered at in New England--had imbibed such a wholesome hatred of inquisitiveness, that he wished the French government would hang up, for the benefit of all concerned, the following list of questions, with satisfactory answers annexed, in all the We propose, as opportunity shall offer, to Whether America is an island or a continent? Before proceeding, however, to the work itself, it may be as well to answer a question which has perhaps been suggested to the minds of a certain class of readers. Of what great use, after all, is this nervous regard as to the opinion of the world? Is not our char-general state of knowledge regarding our acter established-are not our characteristics country. But it is worth nothing as a curiknown, to the uttermost corners of the earth? ous illustration of the vast number of indiTo which question we may answer, Not quite. viduals who derive their ideas, not from what In avoiding that ridiculous sensitiveness which is going on at the present day, or from availprompts so many Americans to feel person-able sources of information, but from, the VOL. V.-NO. II.-11 |