Part 7

In still later times the old place came into possession of the Penn family, the heirs of our William Penn of Pennsylvania, and it was by one of them, John Penn, that the cenotaph to Gray was erected--for the poet, it will be remembered, was laid in his mother's tomb. This same Penn pulled down much of the old house and rebuilt is as it is to-day.

Our luncheon was to be upon the banks of the Thames to-day, the Old Swan Inn, where the stone bridge crosses the stream, being our base of supplies; but ere this was reached what a lovely picture was ours between Stoke Pogis and the Swan! All that has been sung or written about the valley of the Thames is found to be more than deserved. The silver stream flows gently through the valley, the fertile land rises gradually on both sides, enabling us to get extensive views from the top of the coach. Our road lies over tolerably high ground some distance from the river. Such perfect, quiet, homelike, luxuriant beauty is to be seen nowhere but in England. It is not possible for the elements to be combined to produce a more pleasing picture; and now, after seeing all else between Brighton and Inverness that lay upon our line, we return to the region of Streatley and Maple Durham, and award them the palm as the finest thoroughly English landscape.

We say to the valley of the Thames what the Eastern poet said to the Vale of Cashmere, which is not half so pretty:

"If there be a paradise upon earth, It is here, it is here."

The Old Swan proved to be, both in structure and location, a fit component part of the sylvan scene around. There ran the Thames in limpid purity, a picturesque stone bridge overhanging it, and the road-side inn within a few yards of the grassy bank.

[Sidenote: _Skylarks._]

The rugs were laid under a chestnut tree, and our first picnic luncheon spread on the buttercups and daisies. Swallows skimmed the water, bees hummed above us--but stop! what's that, and where? Our first skylark singing at heaven's gate! All who heard this never-to-be-forgotten song for the first time were up and on their feet in an instant; but the tiny songster which was then filling the azure vault with music was nowhere to be seen. It's worth an Atlantic voyage to hear a skylark for the first time. Even luncheon was neglected a while, hungry as we were, that we might if possible catch a glimpse of the warbler. The flood of song poured forth as we stood wrapt awaiting the descent of the messenger from heaven. At last a small black speck came into sight. He is so little to see--so great to hear!

I know several fine things about the famous songster:

"In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright'ning, Thou dost float and run, Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun."

An "unbodied joy!" That's a hit, surely!

Here is Browning on the thrush, which I think should be to the lark:

"He sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture."

The third is just thrown in by the prodigal hand of genius in a poem not to a lark but to a daisy:

"Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie lark, companion meet, Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet, Wi' speckl'd breast, When upward springing, blithe, to greet The purpling east."

How fine is Wordsworth's well known tribute:

"Type of the wise, who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!"

And now I remember Shakespeare has his say too about the lark--what is it in England he has not his say about? or in all the world for that matter; and how much and how many things has he rendered it the highest wisdom for men to keep silent about after he has said his say, holding their peace forever.

[Sidenote: _Reading Abbey._]

A row upon the silver Thames after luncheon, and we are off again for Reading, where we are to rest over night at the Queen's. Reading has a pretty, new park and interesting ruins within its boundaries which we visited before dinner. There are but few traces left of the once famous Abbey, founded early in the twelfth century by Henry I. In the height of its prosperity more than two hundred monks fattened at its hospitable board, and its mitred abbot sat as a peer in Parliament. It was noted, too, as a centre of learning, but the jolly brethren must have sadly degenerated in this respect, if we can believe the report of the royal commissioners in temp. Henry VIII., for Hugh Cook, the last abbot, who was hanged and quartered near his own door in 1539, is described as a "stubborn monk, absolutely without learning." But, of course, all who believe that the much-married Henry was a monster of iniquity will put no faith in the reports of his minions, and will continue to believe that Abbot Hugh was a holy man of God, whose shortcomings in the small matters of orthography and syntax were more than made up by his proficiency in vigils, fastings, and prayers. That he was the "right man in the right place" is proven by the inventory of the relics found in his keeping by the aforesaid minions at the time of the suppression of the monastery. Among these sacred objects were "twoo peces of the holye crosse," "Saynt James hande," "a bone of Marye Magdelene," "a pece of Saynt Pancrat' arme," and "a bone of Saynt Edwarde the martyr is arme." Can it be possible that this saintly man, who so zealously guarded such treasures to the last moment of his life, should still be allowed to suffer under the imputation of stubbornness and ignorance! He mightn't just have been "one of those literary fellers," but it is very clear he had a firm grasp of the "fundamentals" of the faith. What is learning compared to a "bone of Saynt Edwarde" as a means of keeping the sheep in the true fold! The old abbot knew his business better than Henry's commissioners. The tooth of Buddha, which I went to see when in Ceylon, draws crowds from all parts of the island, and excites more piety than the tom-tom, or the incantations of the most learned priest. Truly there's nothing like a relic as a means of grace.

A pretty lawn in the rear of our hotel gave us an opportunity for a game of lawn tennis in the twilight after dinner, and in the morning we were off for Oxford. The editorial in the Reading paper that morning upon emigration struck me as going to the root of the matter. Here is the concluding paragraph:

"Already the expanding and prospering industries of the New World are throwing an ominous shadow across the Old World and are affecting some of its habits and practices. But over and above and beyond all these, the free thought, the liberty of action, the calm independence and the sense of the dignity of man as man, and the perfect equality of all before the law and in the eye of the constitution now existing in America, are developing a race of men who, through correspondence with home relations, the intercourse of free travel, the transaction of business, and the free, outspoken language of the press, are gradually disintegrating the yet strong conservative forces of European society, and thus preparing the downfall of the monarchical, aristocratic, military, and ecclesiastic systems which shackle and strangle the people of the Old World. These thoughts seem to me to convey the meaning of the great exodus now going on, and he is a wise statesman who reads the lesson aright."

There's a man after my own heart. He grasps the subject.

[Sidenote: _Causes of Emigration._]

The editor tells one of the several causes of the exodus which is embracing many of the most valuable citizens of the old lands where class distinctions still linger. Man longs not only to be free but to be equal, if he has much manhood in him; and that America is the home for such men, numbers of the best are fast finding out. But England will soon march forward; she is not going to rest behind very long. There will soon be no superior political advantages here for the masses, nor educational ones either. England is at work in earnest, and what she does, she does well. I prophecy that young England will give young America a hard race for supremacy.

Some of us walked ahead of the coach for several miles, and I had a chat with a man whom we met. He was a rough carpenter and his wages were sixteen shillings per week ($4). A laborer gets eleven shillings (not $2.75), but some "good masters" pay thirteen to fourteen shillings ($3.25 to $3.50), and give their men four or five pounds of beef at Christmas. Food is bacon and tea, which are cheap, but no beef. Men's wages have not advanced much for many years (I should think not!), but women's have. An ordinary woman for field work can get one shilling per day (24 cents); a short time ago ninepence (18 cents) was the highest amount paid. Is it not cheering to find poor women getting an advance? But think what their condition still is, when one shilling per day is considered good pay! I asked whether employers did not board the workers in addition to paying these wages, but he assured me they did not. This is southern England and these are agricultural laborers, but the wages seem distressingly low even as compared with British wages in general. The new system of education and the coming extension of the suffrage to the counties will soon work a change among these poor people. They will not rest content crowding each other down thus to a pittance when they can read and write and vote. Thank fortune for this.

Our ladies were unusually gay in their decorations to-day, with bunches of wild flowers on their breasts and hats crowned with poppies and roses. They decked the Queen Dowager out until she looked as if ready to play Ophelia. Their smiles too were as pretty as their flowers. What an embodied joy bright, happy ladies are under all conditions, and how absolutely essential for a coaching party! Was it not Johnson's idea of happiness to drive in a gig with a pretty woman? He wasn't much of a muff! If anything could have kept him in good humor, this would have done it. If he could have been on top of a coach with a bevy of them, not even he could have said a rude thing.

[Sidenote: _Oxford._]

Oxford was reached before the sun went down. Its towers were seen for miles--Magdalen, Baliol, Christ Church, and other familiar names. We crossed the pretty little Isis, marvelling at every step, and drove up the High Street to the Clarendon.

The next day was to be Commencement, and only a few rooms were to be had in the hotel, but we were distributed very comfortably among houses in the neighborhood. Several hours before dinner were delightfully spent in a grand round of the colleges. We peeped into the great quads, walked the cloisters, and got into all kinds of queer old-fashioned places. But the stroll along the Isis, and past Magdalen Tower, and up the long walk--that was the grand finish! We pardon Wolsey his greed of getting, he was so princely in giving. To the man who did so much for Oxford much may be forgiven.

* * * * *

OXFORD, June 21.

This morning was devoted to visiting the principal colleges more in detail, and also to the ascent of the tower of the Sheldonian Theatre, which no one should ever miss doing. Below us lay the city of palaces, for such it seems, palaces of the right kind too--not for idle kings or princes to riot in, and corrupt society by their bad example, but for those who "scorn delights and live laborious days."

Our Cambridge member, Mr. B., tells us it does not cost more than £200 ($1,000) per annum for a student here. This seems very cheap. The tariff which we saw in one of the halls gave us a laugh:

"Commons. Mutton, long, 11_d._ do. short, 9_d._ do. half, 7_d._"

The long and the half we could understand, but how could they manage the short? This must be a kind of medium portion for fellows whose appetites are only so-so. You see how fine things are cut even in Oxford. Our party thought if the students were coaching there would be little occasion for them to know anything of either short or half. At least we were all in for long commons at eleven pence.

[Sidenote: _Martyrs._]

We drove past the martyrs' memorial, Latimer and Ridley's. Cranmer does not deserve to be named with them. A visit to such a monument always does me good, for it enables me to say to those who doubt the real advancement of mankind: Now look at this, and think for what these grand men were burnt! Is it conceivable that good, sterling men shall ever again be called upon in England to die for opinion's sake! That Cranmer wrote and advocated the right and necessity of putting to death those who differed from him, and therefore that he met the fate he considered it right to mete to others, shows what all parties held in those dark days. I claim that the world has made a distinct and permanent advance in this department which in no revolving circle of human affairs is ever to be lost. The persecution of the Rev. Mr. Green, of Professor Robertson Smith, and of Bishop Colenso in the present day proves, no doubt, that there is much yet to be done ere we can be very proud of our progress; but these are the worst of to-day's persecutions, and could occur only in England and Scotland. There is a long gap between them and burning at the stake! Grand old Latimer was prophetic when he called out from amid the faggots to his colleague: "Be of good comfort and play the man; we shall this day light such a candle by God's grace as I trust shall never be put out!"

I think it certain that the candle will never again be put out. The bigots of to-day can annoy only in Britain. In other English-speaking communities even that power has passed away, and persecution for opinion's sake is unknown. "A man may say the thing he will"--there is a further and a higher stage yet to be reached when a man will consider it a man's part to have an opinion upon all matters and say what he thinks boldly, concealing nothing.

We left Oxford with just a sprinkle of rain falling, but we had scarcely got fairly out of the city when it ceased and left the charming landscape lovelier than ever. Banbury Cross was our destination, and on our route lay magnificent Blenheim, the estate given by the nation to the Duke of Marlborough. See what the nations do for the most successful murderers of their fellows! and how insignificant have ever been the rewards of those who preserve, improve, or discover--for a Marlborough or a Wellington a fortune, for a Howard or a Wilberforce a pittance. It is only in heathen China that the statesman, the man of letters, heads the list. No military officer, however successful as a destroyer, can ever reach the highest rank there, for with them the victories of peace are more renowned than those of war; that is reserved for the men who know--the Gladstones and the Disraelis, the Darwins and the Spencers, the Arnolds and the Ruskins. It is only in civilized countries that the first honors are given to butchers.

[Sidenote: _Blenheim._]

Blenheim is superb, grand, and broad enough to satisfy princely tastes. And that noble library! As we walked through it we felt subdued, as if in the presence of the gods of ages past, for a worthy collection of great books ever breathes forth the influence of kings dead yet present, of

"Those dead but sceptred sovereigns Whose spirits still rule us from their urns."

And to think that this library, in whose treasures we revelled, reverently taking one old tome after another in our hands, has since then been sold by auction! Degenerate wretch! but one descended from Marlborough can scarcely be called degenerate. You may not even be responsible for what seems like family dishonor; some previous heir may have rendered the sale necessary; but the dispersion of such treasures as these must surely open the eyes of good men in England to the folly of maintaining hereditary rank and privilege. Perhaps, however, the noble owner had no more use for his books than the lord whose library Burns was privileged to see, which showed no evidences of usage. The bard wrote in a volume of Shakespeare he took up:

"Through and through the inspired leaves, Ye maggots, make your windings; But oh! respect his lordship's taste And spare his golden bindings."

With many notable exceptions, the aristocracy of Britain took its rise from bad men who did the dirty work of miserable kings, and from women who were even worse than their lords. It seems hastening to an end in a manner strictly in accordance with its birth. Even Englishmen will soon become satisfied that no man should be born to honors, but that these should be reserved for those who merit them. But what kind of fruit could be expected from the tree of privilege? Its roots lie in injustice, and not the least of its evils are those inflicted upon such as are born under its shadow. The young peer who succeeds in making somebody of himself does so in spite of a vicious system, and is entitled to infinite praise; but though our race is slow to learn, the people hear a wee bird singing these stirring days, and they begin to like the song. The days of rank are numbered.

* * * * *

BANBURY, June 22.

[Sidenote: _Banbury Cross._]

Banbury Cross was reached about five o'clock, and few of us were so far away in years or feeling from the days of childhood as not to remember the nursery rhyme which was repeated as we came in sight of the famous Cross. We expected to see a time-worn relic of days long past, and I verily believe that some of us hoped for a glimpse of the old lady on the white horse, with "rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes." Imagine our disappointment, then, when we saw an elaborate Gothic structure, looking as new and modern as if it had received its finishing touches but yesterday. And so indeed it had, for it was recently erected by public subscription. The charm was gone.

I like new political institutions for my native land, but prefer the old historical structures; and as we drove past this spick-and-span imitation of antiquity I felt like criticising the good people of Banbury for the sacrilege I supposed they had committed in thus supplanting the ancient landmark which had made their town known the wide world over. I could not help entertaining a hope, too, that the original "goodly Crosse with many degrees about it," had been put away in some museum or other safe place where it could receive the homage of all devoted lovers of Mother Goose. Alas! inquiry developed the fact that the Puritanic besom of destruction, which demolished so many images and other ornaments in the churches in good Queen Bess's time, swept away Banbury Cross as early as 1602, and that not a piece of it remains to tell of its ancient glory.

Banbury was early noted as a stronghold of Puritanism, and was famous, as Fuller says, for "zeale, cheese and cakes." The zeal and the cheese are not now as strong as they were, but Banbury cakes are still in as high repute as ever, and are largely made and exported. They are probably the same now as in the days of Ben Jonson, who tells of them in "Bartholomew Fair,"--a kind of miniature mince pie, generally lozenge-shaped, consisting of a rich paste with a filling of Zante currants and other fruits.

Banbury has the celebrated works of my friend, Mr. Samuelson, M.P.; and before dinner I walked out to see them, and if possible to learn something of Mr. Samuelson's whereabouts. Upon returning to the hotel I found that he was at that moment occupying the sitting-room adjoining ours. We had an evening's talk and compared notes as brother manufacturers. If England and America are drawing more closely together politically, it is also true that the manufacturers of the two countries have nearly the same problems to settle. Mr. Samuelson was deep in railway discriminations and laboring with a parliamentary commission to effect changes, or rather, as he would put it, to obtain justice.

I gave an account of our plans, our failures, and our successes, of which he took note. This much I am bound to say for my former colleagues upon this side (for before I reformed I was a railway manager), that the manufacturers of Britain have wrongs of which we know nothing here, though ours are bad enough. I add the last sentence lest Messrs. Vanderbilt, Roberts, Cassatt, and the Garretts (father and son), might receive a wrong impression from the previous admission; for these are the gentlemen upon whom our fortunes hang.

[Sidenote: _Political Economy Club._]

The evidence given before the Parliament Commission in Britain, proves that the people there are subjected to far worse treatment at the hands of railway companies than we are here. American grain is transported from Liverpool to London, for one-half the rate charged upon English grain from points near Liverpool--I give this as one instance out of hundreds. The defence of the railway company is that unless they carry the foreign article at half rates the ships will carry it to London direct, or that it will go by sea from Liverpool. I attended a meeting of the Political Economy Club, in London, where the question of legislative interference with railway charges was ably discussed. The prevalent opinion seemed to be that it was doubtful whether the evils could be cured by legislation. Being called upon to state our experience here, I gave them an account of the unwise policy pursued by the Pennsylvania Railroad Company (now happily reversed) at Pittsburgh and its consequences; for the great riot in Pittsburgh had for its real source the practice of the Railway Company of carrying the manufactures of the East, from New York and Philadelphia, through the city of Pittsburgh to the West for less than it would carry the same articles for from Pittsburgh, although the distance was twice as great. Many such anomalies as this still exist in England.

The members seemed interested in hearing that the result was that the railway company finally agreed that in no case should the rates to and from the shorter exceed those charged for the greater distance, and Pittsburgh manufactures are now taken East and West at ten per cent. less than the through rates between Chicago and the seaboard, no matter how these may be forced by competition. While this rule does not ensure exact justice nor cover all cases, it is nevertheless a great step in advance and removes most of the more serious causes for just complaint.

The club spoken of is a notable one. It consists of twenty-five members, only vacancies caused by death being filled by election. Admission is considered a great honor. It is said that every question within the range of practical politics upon which the club has declared its opinion, has been legislated upon within a short time in accordance with its decision. Every member is well known and must have a national reputation. Among those present were Sir John Lubbock, who learnt early in youth a rare secret, the way to learn--"_consider the ways of the ant, and be wise_"--and Mr. Fawcett, the blind Postmaster-General, a man whose career proves, as clearly perhaps as ever was proved, the truth that there is no difficulty to him who wills.

Mr. Leonard Courtney, one of the coming men, took a leading part in the discussion on railways; Mr. Giffen, however, read the paper of the evening, which of course was able, although on the wrong side, as I think. He is the noted man of figures, whose recent article, read before the Statistical Society, showing the hundreds of millions America is soon to contain, produced so startling an effect here, as well as in Europe. Mr. Shaw Le Fevre, Lord Sherbrooke (Robert Lowe), and the father of the Corn Law Repeal movement, Mr. Villiers, and several others of note were present.

[Sidenote: _Satires and Epigrams._]