their dwelling a sweeping valley abounding in rich pastures, watered by the silver Thames (really a silver stream here), yet the position was not very good for a town, inasmuch as damp and dirt for many months of every year are the consequence of the low situation, and fever and ague necessarily the frequent result. The country round, though often under water for some weeks of autumn and spring is, when the weather proves propitious, luxuriant and lovely. No marvels of nature are displayed; but the calm, tranquil, rural beauty of fields, richly fertile, amply compensates for the absence of the wild and wonderful. Certain it is that our rambling party, when looking on those pleasant undulations, covered by fine pastures and graceful clumps of trees in their autumn decorations of the "kindling, not the fading leaf," did not complain of the absence of lofty hills and gorgeous forests. They adopted the sound practical philosophy of placing its full value on the scene around them. A gentle eminence a little more than three miles from Abingdon, ushered the party into a straggling and most secluded village. Many of the houses looked nearly coeval with the ancient church, whose gray, massive turret rose in the midst like the hoary head of a venerable patriarch surrounded by his kindred. "This is Cumnor," said an old gentleman, the leader of our party. "Cumnor!" exclaimed the delighted voices of the younger folks. Then came thoughts of Sir Walter Scott, and of those personages who were cold, rigid forms in the statue-gallery of history, until, touched by the Promethean fire of his genius, they started into vitality, and became living men and women, connected with our intellect and sympathies forever. "This, then, is Cumnor! the place once belonging to the Abbey of Abingdon, given at the Reformation to the Dudley family, and the ill-fated residence of Amy Robsart. At all events, if we cannot trace the remains of any of the characters Sir Walter Scott introduced into his beautiful novel of Kenilworth, yet we can plainly discern the footprints of his genius here." "Yes," said our aged friend, with kindling enthusiasm; "look! there swings the sign of Giles Gossling's hostel, where the story opens. And sure enough there was the rude portraiture of the Bear and Ragged Staff-the cognizance of the Dudley's-on the sign-board before us. Much to the advantage of the vil lage inn must it have been that the great master of fiction should so accurately have attended to local details. Many a party of Ox ford students and others have startled the solitudes of Cumnor with their visits since genius stamped its mark there. Leaving our conveyance at the ancient hostel, we explored all that remained of the dismal dwelling of Cumnor Place. Every vestige of the house is gone, and the mere outlines of the grounds adjoining the church are all that remain to satisfy the curiosity of the visitor. The church was our next object of attention. Some fears were entertained that we must depart without entering it, as the clerk or sexton could not be found. But after lingering for a while in the church-yard, looking at some fine old trees, whose branches might perchance have cast their shade over the head of the lovely lady, the unloved, neglected wife, who had really dwelt and mysteriously died in their neighborhood, we entered the ancient village sanctuary. A single aisle and chancel comprise its extent. The object of peculiar interest to visitors is a tomb within the altar rails, at the side of the communion table, with the name of Anthony Foster inscribed thereon. We approached the spot with something of mingled surprise and loathing; but imagination received a wholesome check when brought into communion with the actual. Effigies of Anthony Foster, his wife, and three children, are in good preservation on the tomb. By the inscription, we learned that Anthony Foster was the younger son of a noble family, and that he married the daughter of Reginald Williams, whose tomb was pointed out on the pavement of the altar. There is no circumstance whatever to show that he was the wretch which the novelist makes him. It is possible that the feelings of our party may not be shared by others; for with all our veneration for Scott, the sentiment of dissatisfaction was spontaneous and general after visiting this tomb. We seemed at once agreed that Sir Walter had exceeded the license, and outstepped the prerogative of fiction, in attaching such a character as he has done to the name of the individual whose monument was before us. Every fact seemed distinctly to contrast with the fiction, except the fact of name. ""Tony Fire-the-fagot," who is represented as having applied the torch to the pyre that consumed Latimer and Ridley; "Tony, the father of one sweet daughter, who disclaimed his nature; Tony, the hypocrite and murderer; 'Tony, dying by the fearful judg ment of Heaven-all combined, form one of the most powerful and painful portraits of unredeemed villiany which the genius of Scott. has depicted. Here, in this Christian sanctuary, was a man of apparently fair fame, a husband, and father of a family, held up forever to execration, as a monster of iniquity! To exaggerate the good qualities of departed his torical characters may mislead, though it cannot greatly injure; but if we connect such ideas as those called up by "Tony Foster's name, with an actual tomb, in order to give an appearance of local exactness and accuracy of detail, it is surely an outrage upon the dead from which the conscientious mind must recoil. We left the tomb and church of Cumnor, saying, "Certainly the monumental brass that has so well preserved Anthony Foster's name has been, by its durability, an injurious memento. Had his name been carved on humble freestone, it would have wasted away from men's eyes as his life did from their memories, and no mighty seer had then dragged his name from obscurity to stamp it with indelible infamy." The name of Lambourne is familiar in Cumnor now; a representative of that appellation being still alive, to attest Scott's attention to local distinctness. dents of Bablock Hythe, runs thus:-A certain maiden, who bore the unromantic name of Rudge, used to row the ferry-boat; her charms were noted by the quick eyes of the Oxford students, yet the maiden, heedless of their praises and temptations, kept to her lowly occupation, till a certain nobleman, fascinated by her loveliness, and honoring the integrity which bespoke a pure and noble mind, paid honest court to her, bestowed fitting instruction on her, and made her his wife. How the water-flower flourished when transplanted to so different a scene, the village historian could not tell! But though the younger members of our party were delighted to have such a romance connected with the spot, the elders shook their heads gravely, and doubted whether the poor girl had really "bettered her condition," when her boat was exchanged for a mansion, and her homely maiden name for a title. We had scarcely finished smiling and sighThe day was yet young when our party had ing, as our several fancies led, over this vilmade their survey of Cumnor, and it was lage episode of the fair maid of the ferry, agreed to prolong the ramble a few miles in when we drew up at the door of an oldsearch of another locality, where we might fashioned, spacious-looking farm-house, with a trace the footprints of genius. So accordingly, lofty but strange building adjoining it. To entering our old-fashioned, spacious convey- our inquiry what that ancient building was, ance, and giving a parting glance at the Bear with its thick high walls and conical wooden and Ragged Staff, we resumed our ride along roof, Our venerable conductor answered: well-kept roads, shaded by overarching trees, "Oh, this is Stanton Harcourt, the remains and flanked by verdant meadows, through of a fine old seat of the Earls of Harcourt; which we could trace the winding of the Isis, and that is the fine old kitchen, as great a until we came to Bablock Hythe Ferry. As curiosity in its way as any in the kingdom." we approached this spot, it was pleasant to see The hospitable farmer who now resides on the from the distance the old flat-bottomed ferry- premises permitted us with frank good-nature boat conveying three cows across the river. to view the place; and with him we entered The clearness of the deep, though narrow the spacious kitchen, and speedily realized the stream, its serpentine course, the pastures of idea of the old baronial times, and the vast brightest green, stretching away on both housekeeping inseparable from the then mode sides, the willows on the banks, bending of providing for the wants of a numerous in the gentle breeze, and at every rustling establishment. The lofty square walls supof their foliage, showing the silver tint of ported an octagon roof of solid woodwork. the under-side of their pensile leaf, and here The kitchen had been built long before chimand there a majestic weeping-willow, dip-neys were used, as the blackened rafters far ping its pendent branches in the stream-all these, with the pearly gray of the calm autumn sky, the gliding motion of the boat, and the tranquil gaze of the patient animals comprising its freight, presented a combination of quiet rural beauty worthy of the pencil of a Cuyp or Paul Potter. By the time the boat had unloaded its cargo and returned, it was our turn to cross, which we did without alighting from our vehicle. The horse was accustomed to the ferry-boat, and so remained perfectly still after entering; our passage being enlivened by one of the party relating a piece of romantic village gossip in reference to this same ferry. The story chronicled by the few resi above sufficiently attested. The smoke, however, could not have been so great a nuisance as might at first be supposed. An opening entirely round the basement of the roof permitted it free egress whichever way the wind blew. Vast ovens, and drying room over, for salted provisions, occupied one side of the kitchen, while opposite, there was a mighty copper, still used for brewing, and a fireplace ten feet wide, with a solid buttress of brickwork at the side, to protect the turnspit from being roasted himself while superintending the cookery. A shallow pit in the centre was pointed out as the place over which a gridiron six feet by four was placed, for the purpose of gril ling a whole sheep, divided down the back, and laid open on its bars; while in every direction on the walls and roof a multitude of hooks, enough to have supplied a whole market, were placed, as evidences of the good store once hanging in this baronial kitchen. The total alteration in modes of living came forcibly upon our minds when noting this relic of the household arrangements of former times. However extensive may be the good cheer in a nobleman's kitchen in modern days, it will bear no comparison with the rude abundance of the past. When towns were few, and shops poor and uncertain-when the stated market and annual fair were the only places for obtaining a supply of the minor multifarious necessaries for a family-room for abundant store was needed. And when we recollect that it was not the ancient custom to keep stall-fed cattle through the winter, but that at Martinmas they killed, salted, and dried meat for the consumption of many months, it explains the necessity for good ovens, dryingrooms, and chevaux de frise of meat-hooks in all directions. groves, spread out like a vast map far beneath the church tower, for a next-door neighbor; the winds, as they swept over the trees, for minstrels; and the clouds for an ever-varying moving panorama-well might the poet hold high converse with the mighty dead, and realize the visions, and invoke the spirit of the father of poetry! To leave this room, with its interesting associations, was in every sense a descent. * The same kind courtesy that had permitted us to view the turret, enabled us to enter the church, where the principal object of attraction was the private chapel over the vault of the Harcourt family. The tombs and monuments were richly gilded and emblazoned; but, we thought, with more of splendor than of taste. Full-sized marble effigies of the Earls of Harcourt, in their robes and coronets- the figures painted and gilded to represent the costume- made a showy, but not very impressive spectacle. Two exquisite busts by Roubilliac contrasted favorably in beauty, purity, and simplicity, with the gorgeously-painted monuments. viewing the splendors of the garish monuments to witness the solemn secrets of the charnelhouse, afforded a salutary lesson. Sixteen large coffins were visible, many of them much dilapidated; rotting wood, faded velvet, and tarnished brass, all proclaiming that no matter what the outward trappings, "decay's effacing finger" cares nothing for human distinctions. A broad shelf was erected round this vault for the Vernon family, which, by intermarriages, had become closely united with the Harcourts. The late archbishop was the first who, on the morrow, was to take possession of this compartment of the vault. A door from this curious old kitchen led us It happened that the vault of the Harcourt to a fine turret, perfectly square, that had and Vernon family was open, the funeral of once formed part of the mansion, and is still the Archbishop of York being fixed to take entire, and in good preservation. The ground-place on the following day. To descend from floor of the turret contains what was once a beautiful private Roman Catholic chapel, now used for the very different purpose of receiving a clothes mangle and other household lumber. The roof and walls still exhibit traces of rich gilding and elaborate decoration. A door at the right-hand side of the altar opened on a winding turret-stair, that led into a little upper room, having the appearance of a confessional. From this the staircase conducted to a square convenient room, that might appropriately have belonged to the priest who officiated in the chapel; and still ascending to the third and highest story, we entered a handsome square lofty room, richly paneled with polished oak. On one side was the small ancient fireplace; on the other three sides were casement windows, commanding extensive and varied views of the adjacent country. "This room is called Pope's study," said our aged conductor: "here he finished the Odyssey." A more appropriate room for a poet's study could not be imagined than this lovely turret chamber. From the window opposite the fireplace, where it may be supposed Pope generally sat, there is a fine view of the immediately-adjoining parish church; and the tops of the trees wave their foliage directly beneath the windows of this lofty room. Here, far removed from vulgar noise or casual intrusion, the country, with its meadows, streams, and Ascending to the church, it was a relief to wander into the adjoining burial-ground, and view the turret and windows of Pope's study from that quiet place. Near the door of the church there is an interesting tablet erected by the poet's friend, Lord Harcourt, to the memory of two lovers killed by lightning. Pope, Pope, in a letter to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, says "I owe this old house the same gratihis declining condition, nay, even in his last extremities. I have found this an excellent place for retirement and study, where no one who passes by can would visit me dares not venture under my roof. dream there is an inhabitant, and even anybody that You will not wonder I have translated a great deal of Homer in this retreat: any one that sees it, will own I could not have chosen a fitter or more likely place to converse with the dead!" tude that we do to an old friend that harbors us in at the request of Lord Harcourt, wrote the | cient town. After a brief time spent in rest following epitaph: "Think not, by righteous judgment seized, When God calls virtue to the grave, And face the flash that melts the ball!" This incident probably furnished Thompson with the hint for his beautiful tale of Celadon and Amelia. Feeling that our ride had been as much diversified with records of the past, enjoyment of the present, and visits to the dwellings of the living and the dead, as could well be within the limits of one morning's ramble, we returned to Abingdon (passing on our way the house that had once been that of Elwes the miser), and admiring the stately old marketplace, which stands in the centre of the an and refreshment, we went forth again in the evening to witness a modern appropriation of an ancient building. The gateway of the venerable Abbey of Abingdon is yet entire; and every school-boy in the town feels some pride as he recalls the fact, that the most learned of our Anglo-Norman princes, Henry Beauclerc, was educated in that old monastic school. Over the gateway there are some fine old vaulted chambers, one of which is now the lectureroom of the Mechanics' Institution; and whatever may be said of modern improvements, a more commodious, well-ventilated room, better constructed for speaking and hearing, it would be difficult to find than this old council-chamber over the abbey gate; and not less highly honored is that ancient place in its present use than it was in days of yore. Education is a glorious privilege, the birthright not merely of England's princes and peers, but of her people and her peasants.-Chambers's Edinburgh Journal. JEROME PATUROT'S SEARCH AFTER THE BEST OF ALL REPUBLICS. Jerome Paturot's Search after the Best of all Republics -[Jérome Paturot à la Recherche de la Meilleure des Républiques]. By Louis Reybaud. Jeffs. 66 In the crash of dynasties none are secure even a Paturot may fall! Jerome whose search after a social position we have so recent ly seen ending in discomfiture and obscurity whose grandeurs" dwindled into a miserable "emploi en province"-Jerome also fell a victim to the Revolution of February. The Provisional Government shook not only Europe, it shook Jerome; not only did it ruin commerce,-it threw Paturot out of office. Let Royal historiographers chronicle the destinies of kings:-Jerome has a pen, and will chronicle his own. Under the ancient dynasty-under Louis Philippe-Jerome was but an ill-paid clerk. It had gone ill with him in the world, and the world had forgotten him; but he answered its neglect with his disdain. Though a paid servant of the government, he was cold and severe in his attitude towards it. He accepted its salary, but not its principles. Let députés vote and shout as they pleased, he refused his protection and sympathy to the Government of July. The current of things led me yet further. It is not easy to arrest oneself when censure once begins. I sought but one culprit, and I found two; to the faults of Government I had to add those of society. I began to doubt whether this world, so full of imperfections and contrasts, satisfactorily fulfilled the aim of the Divinity. Looking at it calmly, I could see nothing in it but an incomplete sketch, worthy only of the infancy of Art. It seemed to me that, with the slightest effort of imagination, I could suggest something which would be less incoherent and I understood the pride of Prometheus in his more harmonious. This thought exalted me :struggle against heaven. Jerome became a republican; and the Republic soon after came to realize his hopes. He now takes up that pen which has rendered famous the struggles of his early life to relate the deceptions of his middle age. The Republic has not realized his hopes! Such is the purpose of M. Louis Reybaud's third part of Jerome Paturot, now in course of publication. The idea is not a bad one, if we except the returning to an old subjectwhich has seldom succeeded with any writer, from Cervantes down to Boz; and though some parts of this work are amusing, it is wearisome on the whole. To render the extravagancies of the Revolution ridiculous was not difficult; but M. Reybaud has too often | grandiose that is the great and essential point. dropped the satirist to assume the preacher. He writes in his own person rather than in that of Jerome Paturot; and what he writes is sensible, but not amusing. Some happy touches and some hard hits there certainly are; but the work bears the impress of being written to suit a temporary circumstance, and written hastily. When the Republic is declared, its first act is to send its commissioners into the departments, to agitate and keep alive republican enthusiasm. In the department where Jerome lives the people are marvellously indifferent to politics-quiet inoffensive bourgeois, thinking only of their commerce. This tranquillity excites the choler of the republican chief commissioner, who demands of his colleague an explanation. 66 "What goes on here? What have you done? have you clubs, as at Paris?"-" No, indeed; we have no clubs."-"Have you any promenades of the various professions, as at Paris?" -"No; none." "No promenades! no clubs! This is serious. I hope, at least, you have had lampions, as at Paris?"-The assembly regarded each other in silent disappointment. The sense of their fault penetrated them; and they were obliged to avow that they had not even had lampions. "And you talk of a republic!" exclaimed the indignant commissioner: "a republic without lampions, without promenades, without clubs! Now I am prepared for anything. I will wager there has been no Tree of Liberty erected here amidst fireworks and tricolor ribbons!" Conscience stricken, their silence was their reply. "I thought as much," he continued. "Let no more be said. All is lost. Nothing as at Paris; nothing! nothing! Not one grand idea, not one noble spectacle! O Republic! is it thus that thou art inaugurated? Where are thy fasces-where is thine antique drapery?" Turning to his colleague he demanded, "Have you agitated the department?" "Agitated it! For what? It made no resistance." pearance perhaps so; but at the bottom it is refractory, believe me. Have you at least turned away all the functionaries of the deposed government?"-"Why should I? They all hastened to declare their adherence."-" Pure comedy! You have been played with, colleague. What! not a single dismissal?"-" Only three or four. If you but knew how submissive the department is."-"That's it! In ap Submissive! They all pretend submission, but in reality they conspire. Colleague, you must agitate. Recover lost time! Proclamations-bulletins! Above all, be careful of the style; let there be words as big as houses!"—" Very well."-"You must have a club-two, if possible."-"I will have three."-"You must plant a Tree of Liberty, with fireworks and tricolor ribbons as accompaniments.""I will plant two."-"You must or ganize promenades. As to public ceremonies, the programme is before you. Let them be In case of need, run the town into debt: no money can be better spent. Imitate Paris.— Let there be young girls dressed in white and oxen with gilded horns. Elevate the souls of men by grand spectacles. Give them allegory -no end of allegory."-"They shall have allegories, since you wish it." "Well and good, my dear colleague. I see with pleasure that you recur to real republican principles. They may be summed up in two words: agitation and disweakness! Dismiss and dismiss : that is the way missal-above all, dismissal! No hesitation, no to establish a republic." The result of these instructions is, the complete demoralization of the department: which from a peaceful and politically indifferent place becomes a centre of republican fury. Among the dismissals occurs that of Jerome. What! the republican before the republic-he who proclaimed "the pure principles" when there was only danger in the proclamation-was to be suspected of attachment to the ancient order of things! Jerome sets off for Paris to have an interview with the minister, convinced that a mere statement of his case is all that is necessary for his re-admission. Arrived at Paris, he is, of course, spectator of all the follies that have been acted there during the last few months. He goes to the clubs,-attends the Luxembourg, visits the Hotel de Ville. He hears men of all parties, and criticises them all. There is very little humor in all these chapters; perhaps because the writer was too much in earnest. Jerome meets with Oscar, the artist of the "hairy school"; who is now the great republican artist, swelling with triumph at the doors of the Louvre being opened to all men without the formality of a judgment. The brush has been enfranchised-all palettes proclaimed equal. The aristocracy of Art has seen its day, it is the turn of the third estate! Oscar belonged to that class:-the jury had refused his pictures with distressing unanimity. His time for vengeance has arrived, and he will show the world the masterpieces of which it had been deprived by ignorance and jealousy! Oscar takes Jerome to see a promenade" on the Boulevards : 66 "You see my People, Jerome,-you see it!" "Your People !" "Yes, mine, Jerome. Whose should it be? Have I not borne it in my entrails-the entrails of an artist? Is it not the people of genius and of passion? the people of color and of outline? the people of ochre and cobalt? Yes, Jerome, it is mine: and the proof is that I on all occasions assert it, and the people never protests. See how it bears itself! what a glorious mien! what a proud attitude! O my people! my great and beautiful people! thou art strong because thou art good, and good be. |