I think the extraordinary blessings and privileges of English rural life have never been sufficiently considered. It is only when we begin to count them up that we become aware of their amount, and surpassing character. What is there of divine sentiment or earthly knowledge, of physical, intellectual, or religious good; what is there of generous, social, reflective, retiring or aspiring; what is there of freshness and beauty; of luxurious in life, or preparatory to a peaceful death; what is there that can purify the spirit, ennoble the heart, and prompt men to a wise and extensive beneficence, which may not be found in English rural life? It has every thing in it which is beautiful, and may become glorious and godlike.
Such golden deeds lead on to golden days,
Days of domestic peace—by him who plays
On the great stage how uneventful thought;
Yet with a thousand busy projects fraught,
A thousand incidents that stir the mind
To pleasure, such as leaves no sting behind!
Such as the heart delights in—and records
Within how silently—in more than words!
A Holiday—the frugal banquet spread
On the fresh herbage, near the fountain-head.
With quips and cranks—what time the woodlark there
Scatters his loose notes on the sultry air;
What time the kingfisher sits hushed below,
Where silver-bright the water-lilies blow:—
A Wake—the booths whitening the village green,
Where Punch and Scaramouch aloft are seen;
Sign beyond sign in close array unfurled,
Picturing at large the wonders of the world;
And far and wide, over the Vicar’s pale,
Black hoods and scarlet crossing hill and dale,
All, all abroad, and music in the gale:—
A Wedding Dance—a dance into the night,
On the barn-floor, when maiden feet are light;
When the young bride receives the promised dower,
And flowers are flung, herself a fairer flower:
A Morning-visit to the poor man’s shed,
(Who would be rich while one was wanting bread?)
Where all are emulous to bring relief,
And tears are falling fast—but not for grief;—
A Walk in Spring—Grattan, like those with thee
By the heath-side (who had not envied me?)
When the sweet limes, so full of bees in June,
Led us to meet beneath their boughs at noon:
And thou didst say which of the great and wise,
Could they but hear and at thy bidding rise,
Thou would’st call up and question.
Graver things
Come in their turn. Morning and evening brings
Its holy office; and the sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild, and mountain-dell,
Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy,
With sounds most musical, most melancholy,
Not on his ear is lost. Then he pursues
The pathway leading through the aged yews,
Nor unattended; and when all are there,
Pours out his spirit in the House of Prayer,—
That House with many a funeral-garland hung,
Of virgin white—memorials of the young;
The last yet fresh when marriage chimes were ringing,
And hope and joy in other hearts were springing;—
That House where age led in by filial love,—
Their looks composed, their thoughts on things above,
The world forgot, or all its wrongs forgiven—
Who would not say they trod the path to Heaven?
Rogers’ Human Life.
CHAPTER III.
LIFE OF THE GENTRY IN THE COUNTRY.
One of the chief features of the life of the nobility and gentry of England, is their annual visit to the metropolis; and it is one which has a most essential influence upon the general character of rural life itself. The greater part of the families of rank and fortune flock up to town annually, as punctually as the Jews flocked up to Jerusalem at the time of the Passover; and it may be said for the purpose of worship too, though worship of a different kind—that of fashion. A considerable portion of them being, more or less, connected with one or other House of Parliament, go up at the opening of Parliament, generally in February, and remain there till the adjournment, often in July; but the true season does not commence till April.
When April verdure springs in Grosvenor Square,
Then the furred beauty comes to winter there.—Rogers.
Much has been said of the evil effect of this aristocratic habit, of spending so much time in the metropolis; of the vast sums there spent in ostentatious rivalry, in equipage and establishments; in the dissipations of theatres, operas, routes, and gaming-houses; and unquestionably, there is much truth in it. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that this annual assembling together has some advantages. A great degree of knowledge and refinement results from it, amid all the attendant folly and extravagance. The wealthy are brought into contact with vast numbers of their equals and superiors, and that sullen and haughty habit of reserve is worn off, which is always contracted by those who live in solitary seclusion, in the midst of vast estates, with none but tenants and dependents around them. They are also brought into contact with men of talent and intelligence. They move amongst books and works of art, and are induced by different motives to become patrons and possessors of these things. If they spend large sums in splendid houses and establishments in town, such houses and such establishments become equally necessary to them in the country; and it is by this means that, instead of old and dreary castles and chateaux, we have such beautiful mansions, so filled with rich paintings and elegant furniture, dispersed all over England. From these places, as centres existing here and there, similar tastes are spread through the less wealthy classes, and the elegances of life flow into the parsonages, cottages, and abodes of persons of less income and less intercourse with society. In town, undoubtedly, a vast number of the aristocracy spend their time and money very foolishly; but it is equally true, that many others spend theirs very beneficially to the country. Men of fortune from all quarters of the kingdom there meet, and every thing which regards the improvement of their estates is discussed. They hear of different plans pursued in different parts of the kingdom. They make acquaintances, and these acquaintances lead to visits, in which they observe, and copy all that can add to the embellishment of their abodes, and the value and productiveness of their gardens and estates. If many acquire a relish only for Newmarket, and the gaming club, and a strong distaste for the quiet enjoyments of the country; many, on the other hand, come down to their estates after a season of hurry and over-excitement, with a fresh feeling for the beauty and repose of their country abodes. The possessors of great houses and estates, invite a party to spend the recess, or especially the shooting season, with them. Thus the world of fashion is broken up and scattered from the metropolis into a multitude of lesser circles, and into every corner of the empire. I can conceive nothing which bears on its surface the aspect of the perfection of human society, so much as this assembling of a choice party of those who have nothing to do but to enjoy life, in the house of some hospitable wealthy man, in some one of the terrestrial paradises of this kingdom,—far off, in some retired vale of England, where the country and its manners remain almost as simple and picturesque as they did ages ago. In some fine Elizabethan mansion, some splendid baronial castle, as Warwick, Alnwick, or Raby; or in some rich old abbey; amid woods and parks, or seated on one of our wild coasts; or amid the mountains of Wales or Scotland, with all their beautiful scenery, rocks, hanging cliffs, dashing waterfalls, rapid rivers, and fairy wildernesses around them. Here, assembled from the crush and rush of London in its fulness, with new books and new music brought down with them; with plenty of topics suggested by the incidents of the past season in the saloons of the fashionable, and in Parliament; with every luxury before them; with fine shrubberies and parks, and with every vehicle and facility for riding and driving through field or forest, or sailing on river or ocean; if people are not happy in such circumstances, where is the fault?
And imagine the possessor of a noble estate coming down to receive his friends there. To a high and generous mind there must be something very delightful in it. When he enters his own neighbourhood, he enters his own kingdom. The very market-town through which he last passes, is, probably, totally or three-fourths of it his property. If he be a kind and liberal man, the respect which is there testified towards him, has in it the most cordial of flatteries. When he touches his own land, every thing acknowledges his absolute sway. On all sides he sees symptoms of welcome. Wherever he looks, they are the woods, the parks, the fields of his ancestors, and now his own, that meet his eyes. The freshness and greenness of the fields, the sombre grandeur of the woods, the peaceful elegance of his house, all the odours of flowers breathing through the rooms, and the sight of rich fruits on his walls and in his hothouses; after the heat, dust, crowding, noise, political contention, and turning night into day, of London, must be peculiarly grateful. Here he is sole lord and master; and from him, he feels, flow the good of his dependent people, and the pleasures of his distinguished guests. The same where
Far to the south a mountain vale retires,
Rich in its groves, and glens, and village spires;
Its upland lawns, and cliffs with foliage hung,
Its wizard stream, nor nameless nor unsung;
And through the various year, the various day,
Where scenes of glory burst and melt away.—Rogers.