A pilgrimage to Olney—Cowper’s services to Literature—Anti-Snobbery—Cowper’s pedigree—A lace-maker—Olney bridge—The Summer-house—Weston-Underwood—The Wilderness—Cowper’s Autograph and Adieu—The Greek Slave—White-bait at Greenwich—The Prime Meridian—The pensioners—Good-night.
Return from the Continent—Despatches—England and Southern Europe—The Sepulchre of Andrewes—Westminster by Candlelight—St. Bartholomew’s, Moor-lane—The Anglican Reformers—Superficial views of travellers—Dissent in England—Tithes—The late Recusancy—Newman and the Dublin Review—The English Bible—Conclusion.
IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND.
CHAPTER I.
First and Second Thoughts—A Warwickshire Welcome.
About noon, one hazy April day, I found myself approaching the British coast, and was informed by the Captain of our gallant steamer, that in a few minutes we should gain a glimpse of the mountains of Wales. Instead of rushing to the upper-deck, I found myself forced by a strange impulse to retire to my state-room. For nearly thirty years had my imagination been fed with tales of the noble island over the sea; and for no small portion of that period, its history and its institutions had been a favorite subject of study. To exchange, forever, the England of my fancy for the matter-of-fact England of the nineteenth century, was something to which I was now almost afraid to consent. For a moment I gave way to misgivings; collected and reviewed the conceptions of childhood; and then betook myself, solemnly, to the reality of seeing, with my own eyes, the land of my ancestors, in a spirit of thankfulness for so great a privilege. I went on deck. There was a faint outline of Snowdon in the misty distance; and before long, as the mist dispersed, there, just before us, was the noble brow of Holyhead.
It reminded me of the massive promontory opposite Breakneck, as we descend the Hudson, towards West Point: but the thought that it was another land, and an old as well as an ancestral one, strangely mingled with my comparative memories of home. There is something like dying and waking to life again, in leaving one’s home, and committing one’s self to such a symbol of Eternity as the Ocean, and then, after long days and nights, beholding the reality of things unknown before, and entering upon new scenes, with a sense of immense separation from one’s former self. Oppressive thoughts of the final emigration from this world, and descrying, at last, “the land that is very far off,” were forced upon me. We doubled the dangerous rocks of Skerries, and began to coast along the northern shore of Anglesea: and then, with my perspective-glass, I amused myself contentedly, for hours, as I picked out the objects presenting themselves on the land. Now a windmill, now a village, and now—delightful sight—a Christian spire! It was night-fall when our guns saluted the port of Liverpool, and our noble steamer came to anchor in the Mersey.
Our voyage had been a very pleasant, and a highly interesting one. Extraordinary icebergs had been visible for several successive days, and had given us enough of excitement to relieve the tediousness of the mid-passage. Our two Sundays had been sanctified by the solemnities of worship; and the only mishap of our voyage had been such as to draw forth much good feeling, and to leave a very deep impression. One of the hands had been killed by accidental contact with the engine, and had been committed to the deep with the Burial Service of the Church, in the presence of all on board. A handsome purse was immediately made up for the surviving mother of the deceased; and the painful event tended greatly to the diffusion of a fraternal sympathy among the entire company. We became as one family: and now, before retiring for the night, I was requested, by those who remained on board, to offer a solemn thanksgiving to Almighty God, for our safe deliverance from the perils of the sea. This it gave me pleasure to do; and the words of the Psalmist rose in our evening devotions, “Then are they glad because they are at rest; and so he bringeth them unto the haven where they would be.” The noble vessel in which we had accomplished our voyage now lies many fathoms deep in the sea. It was the Arctic.