Part 137
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[From the “Wars of Cyrus;” a Tragedy Author unknown, 1594.]
_Dumb Show exploded._
_Chorus (to the Audience)._ ------- Xenophon Warrants what we record of Panthea. It is writ in sad and tragic terms, May move you tears; then you content our Muse, That scorns to trouble you again with toys Or needless antics, imitations, Or shows, or new devises sprung o’ late; We have exiled them from our tragic stage, As trash of their tradition, that can bring Nor instance nor excuse: for what they _do_,[460] Instead of mournful plaints our Chorus _sings_; Although it be against the upstart guise, Yet, warranted by grave antiquity, We will revive the which hath long been done.
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[From the “Married Beau,” a Comedy, by John Crowne, 1694.]
_Wife tempted: she pleads religion._
_Lover._ Our happy love may have a secret Church Under the Church, as _Faith’s_ was under _Paul’s_, Where we may carry on our sweet devotion; And the Cathedral marriage keep its state, And all its decency and ceremonies.
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[From the “Challenge for Beauty,” Tragi-Comedy, by T. Heywood, 1636.]
_Appeal for Innocence against a false accusation._
_Helena._ Both have sworn: And, Princes, as you hope to crown your heads With that perpetual wreath which shall last ever, Cast on a poor dejected innocent virgin Your eyes of grace and pity. What sin is it, Or who can be the patron to such evil?-- That a poor innocent maid, spotless in deed, And pure in thought, both without spleen and gall, That never injured creature, never had heart To think of wrong, or ponder injury; That such a one in her white innocence, Striving to live peculiar in the compass Of her own virtues; notwithstanding these, Should be sought out by strangers, persecuted, Made infamous ev’n there where she was made For imitation; hiss’d at in her country; Abandon’d of her mother, kindred, friends; Depraved in foreign climes, scorn’d every where, And ev’n in princes’ courts reputed vile: O pity, pity this!
C. L.
[458] The Plague: in which times, the acting of Plays appears to have been discountenanced.
[459] He damns the Town: the Town before damn’d him.--ED.
We can almost be not sorry for the ill dramatic success of this Play, which brought out such spirited apologies; in particular, the masterly definitions of Pastoral and Tragi-Comedy in this Preface.
[460] So I point it; instead of the line, as it stands in this unique copy--
Nor instance nor excuse for what they do.
The sense I take to be, what the common playwrights _do_ (or shew by action--the “inexplicable dumb show” of Shakspeare--), our Chorus _relates_. The following lines have else no coherence.
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Mr. S. Young’s comfortable little inn, the Cross at Keston, or Keston Mark, is mentioned before as being at the north-east corner of the grounds belonging to Holwood. My friend W---- and I, on a second visit to Mr. Young’s house, went from thence, for the purpose of seeing the church and village of Keston, through which the main road runs to Westerham. We kept along to the entrance gate of Holwood, which we passed, having the park palings on our left, till we came to a well in the road, which derives its water from springs within Holwood, and stands on a swell of meadow land, called “the War Bank.” Further on, and out of the road to the right, lies the village of Keston, a few houses embowered in a dell of trees; with a stone church, which did not seem to have been built more than a couple of centuries. A peep through the windows satisfied us that there was nothing worth looking at within. We had heard of stone coffins having been found at the bottom of the War Bank, and we returned to that spot; where, though the ground had been ploughed and was in pasture, we met with much stone rubbish in the soil, and some large pieces loose on the surface and in the ditches of the hedge. These appearances indicated a former structure there; and an old labourer, whom we fell in with, told us that when he was a boy, his grandfather used to talk of “Keston old church” having stood in that spot, but becoming decayed, it was pulled down, and the church rebuilt in its present situation, with the materials of the ancient edifice. If this information was correct, the coffins which were discovered in that spot were more likely to have been deposited there in ordinary burial, than to have contained, as most of the country people suppose, the bodies of persons slain in battle on the War Bank. Besides, if that mound derives its name, as tradition reports, from a conflict there between the Romans and the ancient Britons, it must be remembered that our rude aboriginal ancestors were unaccustomed to that mode of sepulture, and that Cæsar had work of more consequence to employ his soldiers on than such laborious constructions for the interment of his officers. One of these coffins is at Mr. Smith’s, near the well-head on the War Bank, and another is at lady Farnaby’s, at Wickham Court.
The little village of Keston is, of itself, nothing; but, looking over it from the road towards the weald of Kent, and particularly Surrey, there is a sweeping view of hill and dale, arable and pasture, intersected with woodlands. Its name is said to have been derived from Cæsar’s (pronounced Kæsar’s) town; but it is quite as likely to have been a corruption of “castrum,” a fortress or citadel. There is little doubt that the Romans maintained a military position on the heights adjoining Keston for a considerable time. The site they held was afterwards occupied by the late right honourable William Pitt; and respecting it, there was published in the year 1792 the following
ACCOUNT OF HOLWOOD.
Holwood-hill, at present the seat of the right hon. William Pitt, is a most beautiful eminence, commanding (without the view of water) one of the most agreeable prospects in this country, or perhaps in this kingdom.
The house is a very small, old, plastered brick building; but being on the edge of a celebrated fox-hunting country, it was formerly the residence of various gentlemen who hunted with the old duke of Grafton. It afterwards came into the hands of the late Mr. Calcraft, the agent; and, small as it is, was used as a house of rendezvous by the heads of the great party at that time, where they privately formed their schemes of parliamentary manœuvre, and partook of Mr. Calcraft and Mrs. Bellamy’s elegant entertainment.
From Mr. Calcraft it came into the hands of the Burrell family: by them it was sold to captain Ross, and was purchased of him by ---- Burrow, Esq., (nephew of the late sir James Burrow,) who stuccoed the house, added greatly to the grounds by various purchases, grubbed and converted considerable woods into beautiful pasture and pieces of water, and planted those ornamental shrubberies, which have rendered it so delightful and so justly admired a spot.
---- Randall, Esq., an eminent shipbuilder, purchased it of Mr. Burrow, and he has since sold it to the right hon. William Pitt, a native of (Hayes) the adjoining parish.
Holwood is fourteen miles distant from London, in the parish of Keston, Kent; which parish evidently, either by Latin or Saxon derivation, takes its name from the camp, commonly called Julius Cæsar’s Camp; on the south entrenchment of which Mr. Pitt’s house stands, and some part of the pleasure-ground is within the same.
This celebrated camp, till within these twenty years, was tolerably perfect: it consisted of a circular double, and in some places treble entrenchment, enclosing about twenty-nine acres of land; into which there appeared to have been no original entrance but by the opening to the north-west, which descends to the spring called “Cæsar’s Spring.” This spring has long been converted into a most useful public cold bath; a dressing-house is built on the brink of it; it is ornamented with beautiful trees, and from its romantic situation, forms a most pleasing scene.
However antiquarians (from the variety of fragments, coins, &c. discovered ploughed up in the neighbourhood) may have been induced to differ in conjecture as to the person who framed it, they all agree that this camp was originally a strong and considerable Roman station, though not of the larger sort; but rather from its commanding situation, and short distance from the Thames, a camp of observation, or castra æstiva. At the same time, there is great reason to suppose it to have been since possessed by other invaders.
The beautiful common of Keston to the south-west of the camp, from its charming turf, shade, and views, has long been the promenade of the neighbouring company; and parties of gentry from even so far as Greenwich, have long been accustomed to retire with music and provision to spend in this delightful spot the sultry summer’s day, drinking at Cæsar’s Fountain, and making the stupendous Roman bulwarks resound with the strains of instruments and the voice of social glee.
The above is some account of the country-seat of Mr. Pitt; but as an inhabitant of the capital may be desirous of knowing what works of taste, or of neighbouring utility, may have engaged the retirement of our illustrious prime minister, the following are the few improvements Holwood has yet undergone.
Whether from a natural antipathy to the animal, or from too much of “Fox” in other places, certain it is, the first order that was issued, was for the utter destruction of the “fox earth,” being a lodgement in one side of the bulwarks, which the sagacious Reynards are supposed to have been in quiet possession of ever since the Roman abdication.
The house standing on a high hill, the gentlemen who have hitherto lived in it, judging “not much good was to be had from the _North_,” had defended it on that quarter by large plantations of evergreens; but the present possessor has cut down these plantations, and seems determined “to be open to every thing that comes from that delightful region.”
The house itself has undergone no other alteration than the addition of a small eating-room covered with pantiles, and a curious new-invented variegated stucco, with which the whole has been done over: this stucco has now stood several winters, and only requires to be a little more known to be universally adopted.[461]
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While Holwood was in the occupation of Mr. Pitt he there seemed to enjoy the short cessations he could obtain from official duty. His chief delight in these spare hours was planting; which, as he pursued it only as opportunity enabled him, was without system of purchase or order of arrangement, and consequently very expensive. After his death Holwood successively devolved into different hands, and the residence and grounds were variously altered. At length the estate was purchased by John Ward, Esq. a merchant of London, who pulled down the house, and erected the present edifice from a design by Mr. Burton, under whose direction the work was completed in the spring of 1827. Its exterior is chaste, and the interior commodious and elegantly laid out. It stands on the summit of a noble ascent, well defended from adverse winds by full-grown trees and young plantations. From the back front, a fine sweep of lawn descends into a wide spreading valley; and the high and distant woodlands of Knole, Seven Oaks, Tunbridge, and the hills of Sussex, form an extensive amphitheatre of forest scenery and downs, as far as the eye can reach. The home grounds are so disposed, that the domain seems to include the whole of the rich and beautiful country around.
In the rear of Holwood Mr. Ward is forming a vineyard, which, if conducted with the judgment and circumspection that mark the commencement, may prove that the climate of England is suited to the open culture of the grape. Mr. Ward has imported ten sorts of vines, five black and five white, from different parts of the Rhine and Burgundy. They are planted on a slope towards the S.S.E. Difficulties and partial failures are to be expected in the outset of the experiment, and are to be overcome, in its progress, by enlarged experience and information respecting the treatment of the plants in foreign countries. That the vine flourished here several centuries ago can be proved historically. There is likewise evidence of it in the old names of places still existing. For instance, in London, there is “Vineyard-gardens,” Clerkenwell; and in Kent, there is a field near Rochester cathedral, which has been immemorially called “the Vines.” Many examples of this nature might be adduced. But far stronger than presumptive testimony is the fact, that, in some parts of the weald of Kent, the vine grows wild in the hedges; a friend assures me of this from his own knowledge, he having often assisted when a boy in rooting up the wild vine on his father’s land.
Mr. Ward’s alterations at Holwood are decisive and extensive. Besides the erection of a new and spacious residence, instead of the old one, which was small and inconvenient, and ill suited to the commanding character and extent of the grounds, he has greatly improved them; and perfected a stately approach to the mansion. Immediately within the great entrance gates, from Keston Common, is the elegant lodge represented by the engraving. For the purpose of making the drawing, we obtained seats just within the gates. While W. sketched it the silence was unbroken, save by the gentle rustle of the leaves in the warm afternoon air of summer, and the notes of the small birds preparing for their vesper song; the rabbits were scudding from their burrows across the avenue, and the sun poured glowing beams from between the branches of the magnificent trees, and dressed the varied foliage in a thousand beauteous liveries----
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Circumstances prevent this article from concluding, as had been purposed, with notices of Holwood-hill as a Roman encampment, and of “Cæsar’s Spring,” in the declivity, beneath the gates of Holwood on Keston Common. An engraving of that ancient bourne, which Julius Cæsar is said to have himself discovered nearly two thousand years ago, and thither directed his legions to slake their thirst, will precede the remaining particulars in another sheet.
*
[461] European Magazine, Dec. 1792.
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THE PLAGUE AT EYAM, AND THE REV. THOMAS STANLEY.
_To the Editor._
Sir,--The publication of the paper, entitled “Catherine Mompesson’s Tomb,” on “The Desolation of Eyam, and other Poems, by William and Mary Howitt,” at p. 482 of the _Table Book_, gives me an opportunity, with your good offices, of rescuing from a degree of oblivion the name and merits of an individual, who has unaccountably been almost generally overlooked, but who ought, at least, to be equally identified in any notice of the “Plague at Eyam” with Mr. Mompesson himself.
The Rev. Thomas Stanley was instituted to the rectory of Eyam by the ruling powers in 1644, which he held till the “Act of Uniformity,” in 1662, threw him out.
It appears that he continued to reside at Eyam after his ejectment, and the tradition of the place at this day is, that he was supported by the voluntary contributions of _two-thirds_ of the inhabitants; this may have been the cause of some jealousy in those who might have been satisfied with his removal from the living.
His comparative disinterestedness, with other circumstances worthy of notice, are recorded by his friend and fellow-sufferer Bagshaw, usually called “the Apostle of the Peak;” he concludes a most interesting account of Mr. Stanley in these words:--“When he could not serve his people publickly, some (yet alive) will testifie, how helpful he was to ’em in private; especially when the sickness (by way of eminency so called, I mean the Pestilence) prevailed in that town, he continuing with ’em, when, as it is written, 259 persons of ripe age, and 58 children were cut off thereby. When some, who might have been better employed, moved the then noble earl of Devonshire, lord lieutenant, to remove him out of the town; I am told by the credible, that he said, ‘It was more reasonable that the whole country should, in more than words, testify their thankfulness to him, who, together with his care of the town, had taken such care as no one else did, to prevent the infection of the towns adjacent.’”
Mr. Stanley died at Eyam 24th August, and was buried there on the 26th following, 1670.
I have thus extracted what, as an act of justice, ought to have been published long since, and which, indeed, ought to accompany every memorial of the plague at Eyam: though I scarcely regret that it has waited for the extensive circulation the _Table Book_ must give to it--if it is so fortunate as to be considered a communication to your purpose. My authority is, “_De Spiritualibus Pecci_. Notes (or Notices) concerning the Work of God, and some of those who have been workers together with God in the High Peak of Derbyshire,” &c. 12mo. 1702. (Sheffield.)
Some farther account of Stanley may be seen in Calamy’s “Nonconformist’s Memorial,” and Hunter’s “History of Hallamshire,” but both follow Bagshaw.
I exceedingly regret that “William and Mary Howitt” were unacquainted with Mr. Stanley’s services at Eyam.
I am, sir,
Your obedient and humble servant,
M. N.
_Nov. 9, 1827._
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_For the Table Book._
THE REIGN OF DEATH.
And I saw, and beheld a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.
_Revelations_, vi. 2.
In nightly vision, on my bed, I saw A form unearthly, on a pale horse sat, Riding triumphant o’er a prostrate world. Around his brows he wore a crown of gold, And in his bony hand he grasp’d a bow, Which scatter’d arrows of destruction round. His form was meagre--shadowy--indistinct-- Clothed with the faint lineaments of man. He pass’d me swifter than the winged wind-- Or lightning from the cloud--or ghostly vision. From his eye he shot devouring lightnings, And his dilated nostril pour’d a stream Of noisome, pestilential vapour. Where’er he trod all vegetation ceas’d, And the spring flow’rs hung, with’ring, on their stalks. He passed by a city, whose huge walls, And towers, and battlements, and palaces, Cover’d the plain, aspiring to the skies: As he pass’d, he smil’d--and straight it fell-- Wall, tower, and battlement, and glittering spire, Palace, and prison, crumbling into dust; And nought of this fair city did remain, But one large heap of wild, confused ruin. The rivers ceas’d to flow, and stood congeal’d. The sea did cease its roaring, and its waves Lay still upon the shore---- No tide did ebb or flow, but all was bound In a calm, leaden slumber. The proud ships, Which hitherto had travers’d o’er the deep, Were now becalmed with this dead’ning stillness:-- The sails hung motionless--straight sunk the mast O’er the huge bulwarks, and the yielding planks Dropt silently into the noiseless deep:-- No ripple on the wave was left to show Where, erst, the ship had stood, but all was blank And motionless. Birds in the air, upon the joyous wing, Fell, lifeless, as the shadowy monster pass’d And hostile armies, drawn in warlike lines, Ceas’d their tumultuous conflict in his sight-- Conqueror and conquer’d yielding ’neath the power Of the unknown destroyer! Nations fell; And thrones, and principalities and powers.-- Kings with their glitt’ring crowns, lay on the earth, And at their sides, their menials.---- Beauty and beggary together lay; Youth, innocence, and age, and crime, together. I saw a murderer, in a darksome wood, Wielding a dagger o’er a beauteous bosom, Threat’ning quick destruction to his victim:-- The shadow pass’d--the leaves grew sere and dropp’d-- The forest crumbled into ashes, and The steel dissolv’d within th’ assassin’s hand-- His face grew wan and bloodless--his eyes stood Fix’d, and glazed--he stiffen’d, and he fell-- And o’er his prostrate body sunk his victim! I still pursued the conqueror with my eye-- The earth grew desart as he rode along-- The sun turn’d bloody in the stagnant air-- The universe itself was one vast ruin---- Then, stopp’d the Fiend. By him all mortal things Had been destroyed; yet was he unsated; And his vengeful eyes still flash’d destruction.-- Thus, alone, he stood; and reign’d--sole monarch-- All supreme--THE KING OF DESOLATION!
O. N. Y.
_Oct. 14, 1827._
* * * * *
~Discoveries~
OF THE
ANCIENTS AND MODERNS.
No. XIII.
THUNDER--LIGHTNING--AURORA BOREALIS--EARTHQUAKES--EBBING AND FLOWING OF THE SEA--THE LOADSTONE AND AMBER--ELECTRICITY--RIVERS.
Some of the moderns have assigned the cause of _Thunder_ to inflamed exhalations, rending the clouds wherein they are confined; others, to the shock between two or more clouds, when those that are higher and more condensed fall upon those that are lower, with so much force as suddenly to expel the intermediate air, which vigorously expanding itself, in order to occupy its former space, puts all the exterior air in commotion, producing those reiterated claps which we call thunder. This is the explanation of Descartes, and had but few followers; the former had more, being that of the Newtonians. For a third theory, which makes the matter productive of thunder the same with that of electricity, its author, Dr. Franklin, is in no part indebted to the ancients.
The notion of Descartes entirely belongs to Aristotle, who says, that “thunder is caused by a dry exhalation, which, falling upon a humid cloud, and violently endeavouring to force a passage for itself, produces the peals which we hear.” Anaxagoras refers it to the same cause.
All the other passages, which occur in such abundance among the ancients, respecting thunder, contain in them the reasonings of the Newtonians, sometimes combining the notions of Descartes.
Leucippus, and the Eleatic sect, held that “thunder proceeded from a fiery exhalation, which, enclosed in a cloud, burst it asunder, and forced its way through.” Democritus asserts, that it is the effect of a mingled collection of various volatile particles, which impel downwards the cloud which contains them, till, by the rapidity of their motion, they set themselves and it on fire.
Seneca ascribes it to a dry sulphureous exhalation arising out of the earth, which he calls the aliment of lightning; and which, becoming more and more subtilized in its ascent, at last takes fire in the air, and produces a violent eruption.
According to the stoics, thunder was occasioned by the shock of clouds; and lightning was the combustion of the volatile parts of the cloud, set on fire by the shock. Chrysippus taught, that lightning was the result of clouds being set on fire by winds, which dashed them one against another; and that thunder was the noise produced by that rencontre: he added, that these effects were coincident; our perception of the lightning before the thunder-clap being entirely owing to our sight’s being quicker than our hearing.