# Three Years in Europe, 1868 to 1871/Chapter 1

THREE YEARS IN EUROPE.
CHAPTER I.
England, 1868 to 1871.
We left you all, and the Town of Calcutta, at 8 1/2 a. m., on the 3rd March, and steamed down the Hooghly to meet the Mail-steamer Mooltan at Diamond Harbour. The Voyage.The Hooghly widened as we went down the river, and we bade a long farewell to the huts and fields and villages of our native country,—to the palm-trees, the dates, and the green-woods which stood on both sides of the river, luxuriant and beautiful. At 1 1/2 p. m., we came to the Mooltan. In the afternoon the Mooltan weighed anchor, and we soon came to the mouths of the Ganges. We stopped again, and did not weigh anchor till the next morning at 4 a. m., and by 10 we were on the wide wide sea. We could distinctly see the line between the reddish Hooghly and the greenish sea, and the water became deep green and then deep blue, as we came out into the open sea. And now we had nothing around us but the deep blue sea, and the deep blue sky! The sight was novel to me. Specially at night, the waves rolling eternally on all sides, the milk white foam sparkling a moment under the cloudless moon, and then ​blending away in the blue waters, and a starry summer sky formed a scene of which it is hardly possible to give an adequate description.
But as we sat for hours together on the deck, watching this still nightly scene, other thoughts than those suggested by the scene oft arose in our minds. For we have left our home and our country, unknown to our friends, unknown to those who are nearest and dearest to us, staking our future, staking all, on success in an undertaking which past experience has proved to be more than difficult. The least hint about our plans would have effectually stopped our departure, our guardians would never have consented to our crossing the seas, our wisest friends would have considered it madness to venture on an impossible undertaking. Against such feelings and against the voice of experience and reason, we have set out in this difficult undertaking,—stealthily leaving our homes,—recklessly staking everything on an almost impossible success. Shall we achieve that success? Or shall we come back to our country, impoverished, socially cut off from our countrymen, and disappointed in our hopes, to face the reproaches of advisers and the regrets of our friends? These thoughts oft arose in our minds in the solemn stillness of the night,—and the prospect before us seemed to be gloomier than the gloomy sky and the gloomy sea around us, without a ray of hope to enlighten the dark prospect.
Early in the morning of the 7th instant, we descried from the deck of our steamer the sandy shores of the Madras.Coromandel ​Coast, and we reached Madras at 10-50 a. m. We landed and saw the Madras Fort, the Peoples' Park, and the Menagerie. Beyond this, there is little to see in Madras. The town is hot and dusty, and altogether disappointing to the visitor.
On the morning of the 10th March we could see the distant mountains of Ceylon. I saw mountains now for the first time, and they appeared like clouds on the horizon.
We reached Point de Galle in Ceylon on the 11th at 6-50 a. m. After breakfast we left the steamer and went on shore in a small boat. Ceylon.The whole place seemed a continuous garden. The cocoanut, the bamboo, the mango and a hundred other trees overhanging the neat beautiful streets, and the neat and pretty huts presented a most picturesque sight. Valmiki is hardly guilty of much exaggeration when he describes Ceylon as a golden region!
In about an hour we came up to the Wakwalley—a scene so beautiful as to defy all description. Far off is seen a line of greyish mountains encircling the view. Adam's Peak can be seen among these mountains. Lower down spreads a fresh green landscape with beautiful waving trees, and just beneath you are lawns and pretty walks with small glittering rivulets or canals meandering through the fields.
From the Wakwalley we went to the cinnamon garden and thence we went to see a Cingalese temple. The priest of the temple came to us, and showed us all the images and other things worth seeing there. There was ​a statue of Gautama Buddha 18 cubits high. The Cingalese are Buddhists, and have no knowledge whatever of Rama or Ravana. In the cool shade of the trees which overhung the temple we sat down on a piece of rock and drank the luscious water from a few cocoanuts with a relish which I cannot describe.
It was on the 19th that we passed through the strait between Socotra and Africa. Early in the morning of the 21st we saw the hills and rocks of Aden. Aden.After breakfast we went to see the place, a miserable town in the midst of barren burnt up rocks. There is hardly any vegetation here, and only here and there the eye is relieved by some plots of grass or a solitary tree taking its nourishment, I know not how, from the barren mountains.
The inhabitants of this place are partly Arabs and partly Africans with a constitution peculiarly fitted for the climate and the soil of their country. Even the children seem to be unmindful of the burning sun or the scorching sands, and some of them ran with our carriage for about half an hour without any apparent toil or fatigue. They are also splendid divers. While we were on board the steamer, many of them came swimming round the vessel, and begged for coins. When any coins were thrown into the sea they instantly dived, took them up and asked for more. In fact, one of them offered to go below our steamer from one side to the other, and I have no doubt he could have done so. For hours and hours together they remained afloat like any sea-animals!
​The fort of Aden is very strong on account of the rocky nature of the place. The reservoir of this place is very well worth seeing. Water is so scarce in this country that they are obliged to keep a place surrounded on all sides by walls of natural rocks, which is filled with water in the rainy season, and supplies the people all the year round. The way leading to the reservoir is finely constructed, with walks, seats and stair-cases carved out of the rocks.
We left Aden on the next morning, and about 6 o'clock in the evening we passed through the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb. On one side were the rocks of Arabia, and on the other those of the small isle of Perim, and beyond the islands could be seen the high mountains of Africa.
In the Red Sea sharp bare small rocks rise precipitously from the sea, and it is these rocks, and many others under the surface of the water, which make navigation in the Red Sea so dangerous.
By the morning of the 27th we had entered the Gulf of Suez, and saw land on both sides of us. The sea was calm, as calm it could be, the surface appearing like a sheet of glass, the red beams of the sun had just tinged the yellow rocks and hills of Africa, and far behind them could be seen a higher range of greyish mountains encircling the view. Suez.Here and there we saw rocky islands dreary and barren, and refusing nourishment to a single plant or a single blade of grass. At 11 o'clock in the night we reached Suez. We left the Mooltan at Suez, to perform the journey to Alexandria by rail. The Suez Canal has not been completed yet.
​We reached Alexandria in the morning and went on board the Massilia, a fine paddle steamer, with a powerful engine. As the steamer was not to start till the next morning, we went down to Alexandria to see that town. Alexandria.The streets were spacious, the houses large and well built. We drove through a delightful garden to see "Pompey's Pillar." Surrounded on all sides by an open space, this lofty pillar of solid marble rises 180 feet high, and appears as a picture against the blue canvass of a cloudless sky. Scattered all round the pillar are the demolished relics of Egyptian idolatry, images of dethroned gods and goddesses, which have been lying in this condition for centuries together, probably for thousands of years. It was almost dark when we left this place, and as our gharry rolled on, the column seemed to rise higher, a noble edifice appearing in bold relief against the dark evening sky. From that place we went to see "Cleopatra's Needle," also a column of solid marble about seventy-five cubits high, and pointed at the top. After a pleasant walk through the streets in the evening we returned to our steamer.
At half-past eleven on the 2nd April, we landed at Malta. To me the town presented a novel sight altogether. Neat and stone-paved streets, with fine and uniformly-built houses on both sides, neat shops with glass windows, and streets and markets thronged with white faces spoke of a European town, Malta.the first that I saw. We drove to a garden which was at one time the ​pleasure ground of the illustrious knights of Malta. Rows of dark Cypress trees, neatly trimmed, beautiful fountains playing here and there, cool shady avenues, fine stone-paved walks, and numberless lemon and orange trees with ripe oranges hanging from their boughs formed a fresh and pleasing scene. We tasted some of these "blood oranges" as they are called, quite red inside, and sweeter than those we get at Calcutta. The Governor's palace is a thing well worth seeing. There we saw in a large hall beautiful tapestry works with life-like figures all woven by the nuns of Malta. Scenes from all parts of the world, scenes from tropical countries with palm-trees and dates and swarthy people are finely executed. A figure of George IV. of England with two female figures by his side, representing England and Malta, is beautifully woven. In another room we saw pictures of the illustrious knights of Malta who fell for the defence of the place.
St. John's Chapel of Malta is a splendid edifice, decorated with the finest productions of labour and art. The ceiling is beautifully painted, and all around us were paintings and sculptures by the eminent Italian artists. Under the floor, which was of beautiful marble, were the tombs of the illustrious knights of Malta, and there was a solemnity and grandeur pervading the whole edifice. The Roman Catholic religion is supported to a very great extent by an appeal to the senses rather than by an appeal to reason, and hence in Roman Catholic Churches Art exhausts her treasures to make the mind religiously disposed. A painting of Christ suffering on the cross, or of Christ healing the sick, makes a far ​stronger impression on the mind than any appeal to reason; it softens the heart and makes it penitent —devotional—superstitious. It is by such means that the Roman Catholic religion is chiefly supported, and naturally enough the religion receives so great a help from the fine arts. The Italians besides have a strong imagination, and in fine arts are superior to all other nations in Europe, and where can their powers of imagination be so well employed as in the support of their national religion? For these reasons the Italian Churches are superior to any others in the world in paintings and sculptures, decorations and illuminations, solemnity and grandeur.
We came back to our steamer at 3 1/2 p. m. and our steamer left Malta at 5.
From a distance the noble rock of Gibralter looks like a lion sitting. The name Gibralter comes from the Arabic Jebel-al-Tarik, i. e., the rock of Tarik, the Mahomedan Conqueror of Spain. Gibralter.When he landed in Spain, his followers were daunted at their own critical position, having to fight in a strange mountainous country and against tremendous odds. But, "whither shall you fly?" enquired the brave Tarik of his soldiers, "the foes are before you, the roaring sea behind." The Moslems almost ashamed of their own cowardice rushed on their foes and defeated them. This gallant spirit accompanied Tarik through all his campaigns and eventually enabled him to subjugate almost the whole of Spain.
The rocks and fortifications of Gibralter are things ​really worth seeing. After a stroll through several streets we returned to our steamer at 6 p. m. The next day we passed the Cape St. Vincent with noble rocks and a light-house built on one of them. England.The Cape of Finistre we passed at night. On the 9th we saw Cape Ushant near Brest in France. There is a beautiful light-house here. On the morning of the 11th we passed the Isle of Wight. This island is a very beautiful one, the whole place appearing like a garden, but a garden not by nature but by art. You see, not tangled woods, high leafy trees, thick foliage and almost rank vegetation like what you see in India, but fine parks, beautiful winding hedges, green lawns, where you see traces of the hand of man almost on every spot. We reached Southampton at 11 a. m. on the 11th April. We had our dinner at Southampton and left for London at 5 p. m. and reached the metropolis (may I not say of the world?) at 8 p. m.
London is a very large place, as all the world knows, with a population of nearly four millions. The houses are usually four or five stories high, one of which is generally under the level of the streets. The walls in the outside are of bricks, but within, the partitions between rooms are all of wood covered with paper. First impressions of London.There are several parks in London, extensive and open to all, with fine walks, ornamental waters, trees, gardens, flower-beds, &c. It is a pleasure to come and spend a few hours in one of these, when there is nothing else to do. Besides the parks, there are small ​squares every here and there with railings all round, and trees, flower-plants and walks inside. These are open only to those who live round the squares. They are called the "Lungs of London," for London would be very close and uncomfortable to live in without these open places. The houses are very closely built, and uniformly in a row, and the rooms are small and close. In fact every thing here seems to be designed to protect the people from the cold of winter which is long, while summers are, I am told, short. But as there are no contrivances to keep off the heat, London during the summer is, I am told, very uncomfortable. The weather is murky and the days are generally half dark, there being plenty of mist with showers every now and then, but they are not our Indian heavy showers, but slight patter, patter, patter, which is very annoying. Of sun you don't see much here except in summer, it is generally hid in mists or clouds, and only now and then peeps out with a pale sickly face! There is a saying here that English suns are made of worn-out French moons! and English summers, they say, consist of three warm days and a thunder-storm!
At present the thermometer stands at 50°. It is hardly over higher than 80°, and in winter sometimes goes 10 or 12 degrees below the freezing point.
​stretching out on its two sides. The whole building glittering in the sun has an imposing aspect. Outside the building are beautiful gardens, green lawns, gravel walks, beds of flowers in geometrical figures, groups of fountains playing in the sun, ornamental waters with swans in them, cool secluded walks through beautiful groves, and fine statues,—every thing that imagination can conceive or art can supply to add to the beauty of the place. Inside the building the view is, if possible, still prettier. There is a long walk from one end of the building to the other with a row of beautiful marble statues on each side, while luxuriant creepers hang from the ceiling and twine round the iron columns in the most fantastic manner, and fountains play every here and there—the sparkling showers falling on spacious vases richly decorated, and surrounded by statues.
The picture gallery contains a noble collection of paintings, all for sale, as well as busts and statues of eminent men. After a delightful walk in the gardens we took a boat and enjoyed a very pleasant row in the lake till it was very dark. At 10 we started for London, and did not reach the place till very late.
On the 6th October we went to hear the farewell readings of Charles Dickens. The St. James's Hall was brilliantly lighted up and crowded with people. Mr. Dickens read some pieces from his own works, including the humorous examination of Sam Weller. Charles Dickens.Mr. Dickens is a first-rate reader and is full of action as he reads. Every one present was delighted with his reading.
​On the 5th November, there was a great deal of fun in the streets of London. Lots of people went about the streets dressed in a grotesque style, 5th November.carrying about the effigy of Guy Fox to be burnt at last.
As I got up on the morning of the 8th November I saw on all sides,—what do you think?—streets, houses, gardens, trees, all covered with snow!— Snow fall.all one sheet of molten silver. A wonderful and novel sight it was for me.
During the last fortnight (5th to 20th November, 1868) London and in fact the whole of the British Isles have been in a state of great excitement on account of the Parliamentary elections going on. Election of 1868.The amount of excitement in London on the day of election was simply incredible. Booths were erected every here and there, and voters came to these booths to give their votes. The streets were crowded with people, those who had votes and those who had not, and all engaged in the one absorbing topic of conversation, while the candidates for election could be seen going about from place to place, and from booth to booth with an agitation of mind which can easily be imagined. All the voters were to give their votes on that particular day, and as the day advanced the public could guess pretty correctly what the result in the evening would be, for the number of votes given for each candidate was published hourly in a hundred newspapers to satisfy the insatiate anxiety of the people. Wherever the chances were in favour of a liberal ​candidate, the satisfaction, the joy, and I may say the triumph of all liberals knew no bounds; and where a conservative seemed likely to have the greatest number of votes, the delight of the conservatives was equally great. For every Englishman takes a deep interest in politics, and is either a conservative or a liberal, and accordingly wishes to see conservatives or liberals returned to Parliament. To a reflecting observer this interest which the English take in politics has a meaning and a significance. Every man in this country considers himself as a constituent of a great nation, prides himself on his nationality and the glory of the nation, and therefore keeps an eye on the welfare of his country. If a law is passed which he considers detrimental to the interests of the country, he takes it as deeply as if it were a personal grievance. He has his own ideas regarding the interests of his country, and if in his opinion they are best served by conservatives generally speaking, he is a conservative and votes for conservative members; and if, on the other hand, he believes the liberals to be more likely to do good to the country, he is a liberal and votes for liberal candidates. And thus every Englishman is a politician in one sense, and watches the debates in Parliament and keeps an eye on the welfare of his country. Go and speak to the commonest tailor, the commonest greengrocer, the commonest bootmaker in London, and he will tell you the amount of the national debt, he will tell you who introduced such and such a bill, and what likelihood it has of passing, he will argue with you as to the good or evil effects of a bill lately introduced in Parliament. Your ​cabman will tell you that this bill will pass and t'other bill not, and your boatman will inform you that them conservatives are no good. Among such a people, as may be expected, most improvements emanate from the people, for the people are the Government. Societies are formed by the persons desirous of bringing on some reform, they have their sittings, their lectures, their pamphlets, they write articles in newspapers, they publish books to support their cause. Thus they go on influencing the public mind and convincing the people that a reform is needed. When they are strong enough they make a representation in Parliament, they have a bill introduced by some member who may be of the same opinion with themselves. The bill may he defeated once, twice, three times, perhaps, but that does not matter, they go on quietly with their work with a patience and perseverance which is almost incredible. They know that the will of the people is the law of the land, and if the people show increasing interest in their cause they are sure to succeed, otherwise their cause must of course be given up. Societies and leagues of this kind exist in England without number, and it is really a wonder how patiently and perseveringly they work. Sometimes the generation which started an association may pass away, but new members come in, the next generation takes up the cause, and the association lives and works on still trying to influence the public mind. For public opinion is the law of the land which sways the country without a rival, and before which the Queen, the Lords, the Commons must all give way. The Queen and the ​Nobility do not oppose it, and if the Commons act contrary to it, another set of members are sure to be returned at the next election who are of the same opinion as the public. Such is England, a country where the people govern themselves,—what wonder if such a people have secured for themselves an amount of political liberty which is nowhere else to be found on the face of the globe, America alone excepted.
To-day (25th December) Merry Christmas has returned to bless old England, and loud church-bells rang in the morning through the thousand streets and lanes of London, merrily as a marriage-bell. Christmas.Unlike what we have at home on festive days, it is all quiet and still in the streets, shops and offices are all closed, and the whole town presents a sort of funeral appearance. But do you like to see Christmas in its true aspect? Go to the interior of one of the houses, and mark what passes on there. What with the joy and gladness of every member of the family now assembled together, what with the group of happy faces round the cheerful hearth, what with the roast beef and Christmas plum-pudding of old England, and what with the temptations under the mistletoe, Christmas is a jolly time indeed in England.
The cold season in England begins with the Christmas tide. The other day we had a snowfall. Beautiful flakes of snow descended gently in showers like bits of cotton. The shower was soon over, and we walked on the pavements covered with snow. Unlike our Indian winters with clear skies and sunny days, English winters have ​very little of the sun, and you must consider yourself fortunate if once in a week you get a glimpse of a pale round thing, an apology for a sun struggling among the clouds. It is often misty and miserably wet the whole day. Occasionally there is bright frosty weather with a genial sunshine sparkling on snow-covered fields and frozen lakes.
A year of hard study has passed, and we at last appeared at the Open Competition of 1869. I need scarcely tell you that never before did we study so hard and so unremittedly as during the past year. Open Competition of 1869 for the Civil Service of India.We attended classes of the London University College and also took private lessons from some of the Professors of the College. I shall never forget the kindness which we have received from them, they have been more like friends than teachers to us. I wish specially to mention the names of two gentlemen to whom we are under deep obligation. I have never known a kinder, a more genuine and true-hearted Englishman than Mr. Henry Morley, Professor of English Literature. We attended his classes, we took private lessons from him, we shared his hospitality, and we benefited by his kind, friendly and ever helpful advice. His house is as well known to us as our own, and his studio,—the walls of which on every side are lined with books,—has been the scene of many a pleasant hour of instruction and advice. Not less are we indebted to Dr. Theodore Goldstücker, a profound German Scholar, whose Sanscrit class we attended in the University College. ​But his kindness was not confined in the class room, he was ever ready with his advice and help whenever we needed it. A profound but eccentric scholar, fond of dictating and contradicting but really kind-hearted and true, Dr. Goldstücker is quite a character, but is respected and esteemed most by those who know him most intimately.
We passed our days in the University College,—either in the class rooms or in the library. In the evening we returned to our lodging houses, took our dinner, went out for a stroll, returned and took a cup of tea, and then resumed our studies which we kept up as long as we could. And in the morning after a hasty bath and breakfast we went to the College again. We had some introduction letters to some families living in or near London, and we also made the acquaintance of some others. But our time was mostly passed in our own lodgings or the class room during the past year.
At last the time for the Open Competition arrived. It was impossible to form any sort of conjecture what the result in our case would be. For over three hundred English students appeared in the examination and the first fifty would be selected. We did not know where the three hundred odd students had been educated, where they had prepared themselves for the examination,—and whether they would score higher marks than ourselves. Many of them had no doubt attended like ourselves classes in Colleges in London or Oxford or Cambridge,—but many had been specially trained for this particular examination by Mr. Wren who passes many men from ​year to year. Others had come from schools and prepared themselves under other private teachers.
The examination, one of the stiffest in the world, lasted for a month or more. The subjects are various, but no one is compelled to take all subjects or any particular subject; each candidate takes what subjects he pleases, and candidates are judged by the aggregate marks they obtain in the subjects they take up. I had taken only five subjects, i. e., English (including History and Composition), Mathematics, Mental Philosophy, Natural Philosophy and Sanscrit.
On each subject there is a paper examination and a viva voce examination. You will be interested to know something about my viva voce examination. In English I had given a long list of books which I had read,—every candidate had to do the same. My examiner looked over the long list and smiled and enquired—"Have you read all these books?" I answered in the affirmative, but felt for a moment that I would have been wiser if I had only mentioned those authors whose works I had thoroughly and carefully studied! But my examiner was very fair, he did not test my memory about details, but sought to know if I had generally appreciated what I had read. "Which do you think to be the best of Shakespeare's plays?" "Why do you think so?" "What characters do you admire most?" "What do you see in this and that character to admire?" "Some say Gray's style of poetry has something in common with Milton's; what is your opinion?" "Do you find anything in common between Milton and Wordsworth?" "What do you think ​of such and such pieces of such and such authors?" And so on, with all the best English poets, until he came to Rogers. "I see you have included Roger's Italy among the pieces you have read. What do you think of Roger as a poet?" "What is there that you admire in his style of writing?"
"Of all the fairest cities of the earth None is so fair as———?"
My examiner enquired? "Florence" I said to his entire satisfaction! I felt that I had done fairly well in English,—and even when I differed with my examiner in opinions about authors, he was fair enough to allow me to uphold my opinions and give my reasons, and was pleased with the same. I also did well in the paper examination, and when the result was out, I was delighted to find that among about 325 candidates I stood second in order of merit in English and had scored 420 marks out of 500.
In Sanscrit Mr. Cowell, formerly of the Sanscrit College Calcutta, was our examiner. I did remarkably well in paper,—by mere luck;—I guessed the meaning of a passage from Sankaracharya's Philosophy and translated it, which my two Hindu fellow-candidates—better Sanscrit scholars than myself,—had not been able to do. I scored higher marks than they did, but I felt that I did not deserve it, for they really knew the language better than I did. I scored 430 out of 500 in Sanscrit. But here we are at a disadvantage as compared with English students. For they take up Latin and Greek, the full marks in those subjects are 1500,—and English ​students easily get more marks in those subjects than we can possibly do in Sanscrit.
In Mathematics, Todhunter, the writer of many text books, was one of my examiners. He is a very fair examiner, but I was not very well up in Higher Mathematics, and did not score high marks.
In Mental Philosophy I got fairly good marks. In Natural Philosophy Dr. Carpenter took Zoology, and is a very good examiner. The examiner in electricity was not a fair examiner. However I got good marks in Natural Philosophy on the whole.
We had to wait over a month before the result was out. It was a time of anxious suspense. When the result was out I found I had not only been selected, but that I stood third in the order of merit. I cannot describe the transport which I felt on that eventful day. My friends too had passed. The great undertaking on which we had staked everything in life had succeeded, the future of our life was determined, and a path, we ventured to hope, had been opened for our young countrymen.
We have at last left the crowded streets of old London for green fields and the sea-side. Sea-side.All watering places in England have their seasons, and during the season-time they are crowded by people coming from London and other towns, while during the rest of the year they are quiet and look almost deserted. Eastbourne, a quiet watering place, is particularly so, as it is not yet the season-time. Eastbourne.As I am writing this letter to you, I am enjoying an extensive ​view of the deep blue ocean, a cool and refreshing sea breeze, and the ceaseless music of the waves. Yesterday we went by sea to Beachy Head, which is four or five miles from Eastbourne. Beachy Head is about 575 feet above the level of the sea, and when we ascended the top, we had a beautiful view all round. To walk in the green pasture lands and fields covered with the luxuriant verdure of spring, to scale the chalky cliffs of South England, or saunter on the green hills in the evening, silently watching the quiet windmills on the tops of hills, to hear the skylark pouring forth "harmonious madness" from its aerial height, to spend an evening on the pebbly beach, and hear the wild and ceaseless song of the restless waves which lull you not to sleep but to gentle thoughts and meditation, to have a pleasant row on the green sea, or a pleasant trip to a neighbouring village, such has been our occupation since we left London, and a most delightful occupation it is, I can assure you, after a long and weary year spent amidst the smoke and toil and dust of old London.
About four or five miles from Eastbourne are the ruins of Pevensy Castle. A bright halo from the distant past still lingers round its roofless and ivied walls, and will continue to linger till the last stone of the edifice moulders away to dust. Cæsar with his Roman legions, (if Professor Airy's supposition be correct), and William the Conqueror with his Norman host, landed at this point. We climbed up the ivied walls, walked on the grassy floors, crept under the broken windows, and saw the dark dungeons which tell a dismal tale of olden days.
​The village of Pevensy consists only of some huts, a village church and a village inn. We came back from Pevensy by sea, and saw the "Martello Towers" built by the English in 1804, when they feared the descent of Bonaparte on the English coast. They are a line of fortified towers with drawbridges and moats, along the southern coast of Kent and Sussex.
The other day we went to see Hurstmonceaux Castle, which is one of the finest specimens of the castles of the Middle Ages that are now to be seen in England. The drawbridge, the moat all round, the towers and turrets, the watch-towers, the fearful underground dungeons, the dining hall, the numerous rooms and passages, the kitchen, the ladies' room with its beautiful window, the chapel, everything corresponds with the descriptions we read of the castles of the Middle Ages; while the ivy creeping through the windows and over the walls threw an aspect of romance on the whole place.
St. Leonards and Hastings are adjoining towns; in fact, they form one continuous town on the sea. St. Leonards is a very pretty place. Hastings.The Lover's seat is a romantic spot near St. Leonards, and tradition asserts that a damsel threw herself from this spot into the sea in sorrow for her lover who was dead. A still more romantic spot—the Fairlight Glen is a long avenue completely shaded from the sun. The Hastings Castle is built on a triangular rock, defended by high rocks on one side, by a deep trench on another, and by the sea on the third.
​trip to the sea-side. Battle.On our way to London we stopped for a few hours at Battle about 7 miles from Hastings, and saw the Abbey built there by William the Conqueror after his victory. The Abbey is in a very good condition.
The other day we went to see Madame Toussaud's Show-rooms where there is a collection of wax-figures so true to life that a stranger who knows nothing about them would at once take them to be living men and women, and not wax-figures. Madame Toussaud.A sense of politeness makes one almost ashamed to look at these worthy personages face to face. More than once I was on the point of mistaking some of the visitors (who were sitting or standing still) for wax-figures, and once when a wax-figure at which I was looking, shook its head (by some internal machinery,) I felt ashamed at having stared rudely at what for the moment I took to be a visitor. There are wax-figures of all the Sovereigns of England from William I. downwards, as well as of many eminent authors, divines, &c., Shakespeare, Scott, Knox, Calvin, Mary Queen of Scotts, Voltaire and many others. At one place you see in a group Napoleon Bonaparte and all his illustrious Generals, fine looking men some of them, and specially Marshal Ney. In the "chamber of horrors" you see the figures of many persons guilty of frightful murders and crimes.
I shall tell you in as few words as possible what I saw at the Westminister Abbey, certainly one of the most interesting monuments of antiquity of the England. Westminister Abbey.The first man ​of letters whose statue I saw here was he who has given such a beautiful description of this place in one of his papers,—I mean of course Joseph Addison. The great historian Macaulay is on one side of him, and on the other, the great novelist Thackeray. Facing Addison is the poet Campbell, and by his side his contemporary the poet Southey. Near them stands the immortal Shakespeare, and round him is a galaxy of smaller poets, Rowe, Gay, Goldsmith, &c. In another place I saw the bust of the author of "Paradise Lost," and by his side is Ben Johnson with the short and pithy inscription "O rare Ben." Dryden, Cowley, Gray, and some other poets were to be seen in another place. In another part of the Abbey were the statues and busts of many illustrious statesmen of England who have done eminent services to their country. Warren Hastings, Sir Eyre Coote, and some other heroes of Indian history find a place there. In the Chapel of Henry VII., are buried most of the Sovereigns of England, whose tombs and monuments must be interesting to every student of English history. There, I saw, too, the coronation chair which has been used by all the Sovereigns of England since Edward I. at their coronation, and under it the stone on which the kings of Scotland used to sit at coronation, but which was brought to England by Edward I. when he conquered Scotland.
Last Sunday we went to Richmond and thence to Hampton Court. Arriving at Richmond by train we rowed on the Thames to Teddington, Hampton Court.a distance of three or four ​miles, leaving half way Twickenham, the celebrated seat of Alexander Pope. The Thames is exceedingly pretty here and very unlike the dirty river that flows by London. On both sides the banks were covered with the luxuriant verdure of spring. In England winters are longer, colder and more dreary than in India; for months and months together you have nothing but rain and mist and snow, freezing wind, a dark atmosphere, and cloudy sky. There is not a leaf in the trees, and all nature seems dead and cheerless. When after such a dreary winter comes the season of spring with its sunny skies and warm weather, its fresh leaves and flowers and beautiful birds, the change is far more striking and far more welcome than the same change in India. The Indian spring with its more luxuriant vegetation and a greater variety of birds with sweet songs and rich plumage, with its sunnier skies and altogether more gorgeous appearance, fails to strike us as much as the English spring, simply because the Indian winter is a delightful sunny season, when the trees retain their leaves and the sky is seldom, if ever, clouded, and the change therefore is not so sudden or striking.
Both the banks of the Thames were very pretty with green lawns, fine avenues, shading chestnut trees and fine groves every where. From Teddington an hour's pleasant walk through the beautiful Bushy Park brought us to Hampton Court, renowned in English History. We went through the several apartments of the palace, the royal bed-rooms, the council chamber, and the like, and saw the collection of beautiful oil paintings in those rooms. It was late before we returned to London.
​Near the Temple Bar in London is a place for hair-cutting and shampooing, which was at one time the palace of Henry VIII. and Wolsey. Historic sites.Near that place, too, is a dining place where Dr. Johnson and his companions,—illustrious persons all,—used to assemble.
For the last five or six days (January 1870) it has been intensely cold here. We had snowfall almost every day, and streets, squares, trees and tops of houses have all been covered with snow. Winter.The ornamental waters in the parks have been frozen over and there has been plenty of skating on them. Imagine to yourself a vast sheet of ice with hundreds of men, boys and girls over it, all going in different directions,—in straight lines, circles and curves, with a rapidity and dexterity that is remarkable. We are told that some winters back the ice broke in the Regent's Park and about 300 people fell in and perished. And yet such is the rage for skating that we are assured by one who narrowly escaped being drowned that day that, if the water had been frozen over the next day, he would have gone in for skating the next day.
Snowfall is a beautiful thing to see,—the whole firmament is filled with silver flakes floating on the air and gently descending on the ground.
The problem of the condition of the poor engages the attention of Englishmen, and is, in the present cold season, exciting deep interest. The London Poor.Notwithstanding many noble qualities, the lower classes of England are in many ​respects very far from what they ought to be, and their character is soiled by some of the worst vices of human nature. Drunkenness and cruelty to wives prevail to a fearful extent among them, their independence often borders on insolence, and their remarkable imprudence necessarily makes them wretched. They form the only uneducated class of people in England, and their want of education makes them incapable of improving their condition. What is wanted for them is education, and effective steps are being taken to spread education to all classes of people in England.
Among the many evils to which such classes are subjected by their want of education and prudence not the least consists of imprudent marriages. People belonging to the other classes with a habitual sense of dignity and honor do not marry, generally speaking, till they have competence to support a wife and family in a style befitting their rank; but among the laboring classes this prudence is entirely wanting, and the consequences are baneful. The London laborer who has a large family, with his dissipated habits and often his unfeeling cruelty, is one of the most harrowing sights that civilization can hold up to your view.
Would you step into their dwelling-place? You see a small room in a smoky lane, crowded with members of a large family,—an elderly mother with children from the girl of fourteen or fifteen to the baby in her arms—all huddled together in one uncomfortable room. The broken panes do not keep off the wintry blast, and want of sufficient food, sufficient clothing and of coal to warm ​the room, presents a sight of misery compared to which the poorest classes of people in our own country are well off. The paterfamilias is troubled out of his wits to support such a large family,—the misery and sufferings he gets familiar with make him callous in his feelings, and a cheerless home impels him to seek comfort elsewhere. Where is he to seek such comfort? Why, London is swamped with public houses, blazing with volumes of gas, with comfortable seats and comfortable fires to invite the poor laborers to a few glasses of beer. These public houses are the resorts of the London laborer, and out of his scanty earning he learns to spend something on intoxication. Thus flying from a cheerless home he learns to become a drunkard. What follows?—A scene, the horrors of which it is difficult to picture. Drunkeness brings out the most brutal passions of the human mind, and cruelty such as is unheard of among the poorest families of our country, disfigures the conduct of the London "rough" towards his own kith and kin. Pestered and bothered by a hungry wife and starving children, the drunken husband and father often has recourse to violence, the accounts of which emanating every day from the Police Courts, fail to startle the people only on account of their frequency. Death is a frequent visitor of such homes, and little boys willingly leave them to turn "street Arabs," running about with naked feet and uncovered head to beg a few pence from the passers.
In the country the laborers are better off. Drunkenness, though not unknown, is certainly not the rule ​among them, and it is not possible for them in their little villages to be as regardless of the comforts of their families as their brethren in towns often are. Step into one of the neat village cottages, and the sight is by no means displeasing. You see the mother and her children living in peace, though alas! often in poverty, and robust healthy-looking village-girls with roses and carnations blooming on their cheeks. Their ordinary food is bread and cheese with a little of meat, perhaps, two or three times the week. In some parts of England, the village housewife frequently buys a pig and feeds it for the best part of the year, and when it is big and fat, kills it and preserves it with care. Small slices from it are among many poor families the only meat they can afford to have, and one pig lasts a family for a full twelve month. It is a pleasant sight on Sundays to see neatly-dressed villagers and blooming village-girls, and, now and then the landlord too and his family assembled together under the roof of the quiet village church.
There are many things in Cambridge worth seeing, and I enjoyed my visit to that town very much, indeed. At Christ's College you still see the mulberry tree planted by Milton, which is supported on all sides to prevent its falling down. Cambridge.The King's College Chapel is said to be the most splendid in England, it is large and richly decorated. The St. John's Chapel is also a very good one. The Trinity College Library is beautifully furnished and fitted up with its book-shelves and statues finely arranged. Among the latter you see those of Addison and Pope, of ​Bacon and Newton, of Byron and Tennyson, and other men—men of undying name, who were educated here. In the same college you see the room where Newton stopped while a student, as well as the gateway under which Bacon passed, and connected with which hangs a tradition that it will not fall down till a greater man than Bacon passes under it. With its fine University buildings and college compounds, with the green fields all round, and with the quiet River Cam and its numerous bridges, the pretty little town of Cambridge would be well worth a visit even without its classical reputation.
The other day I went to see the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race. You can hardly imagine what interest people in this country take in these annual races, which are regarded as a sort of national institution. Boat-race.Both shores of the Thames were crowded with people, and as far as the eye could reach there was but one mass of men and hats and bonnets to be seen. The boats are constructed very narrow and long, and fly on the water like arrows. Cambridge won this year after having been beaten for the last nine years consecutively.
The other day I went to Brighton to see the Volunteers' Review. There were 26,000 volunteers and 54 guns. Brighton and Isle of WightAfter the "march past" was over, the volunteers divided themselves into two portions; one representing the invaders of England who had just landed on the coast of Sussex, and the other the defenders of the country. The mock battle lasted about three hours ​including charging and obstinate resistance and carrying positions till at last the assailants were driven to the brink of the sea and surrendered. The review gives one an idea, faint as it may be, of real battle, and I watched the whole affair with very great interest.
Brighton is a fine sea-side town, and the houses on the Parade are more like palaces than ordinary buildings. It is the largest and most fashionable sea-side town in England, and in the season time is flocked by hundreds and thousands of people from all parts of England. A stranger coming to Brighton at the season time cannot fail being struck with the pomp and splendour, the mirth and gaiety, the beauty and magnificence of the place,—with the music on the parade, the swell carriages whirling through the hundred streets, and the swell people flocking to the numerous haunts of amusement. Surely he would take it to be the seat of fashion and the paradise of luxury.
From Brighton we went to Worthing, a pretty and quiet sea-side town, and thence to Arundel where we saw the castle said to be the oldest in England. It is said to have existed at the time of Alfred the Great, and large additions have been made by William the Conqueror. Arundel castle.From the watch-tower we had an extensive view of the country all round. We left Arundel and went to Portsmouth, and thence to the Isle of Wight—the garden of England—so called for its luxuriant vegetation and beautiful country prospects. We went to Ryde, Shanklin and Ventnor (towns in the Isle of Wight) and after having ​enjoyed the romance of rusticating, came back to old London.
Our trip to Windsor we enjoyed very much. We saw the Queen's residence there, Windsor Castle.and from the tower we had a "distant prospect of the Eton College," the celebrated Eton College.Windsor forest, a curfew tower built in the reign of William the Conqueror which used to toll the knell of parting day, and lastly the well-renowned field of Runnymede. After leaving the palace we passed by Eton College and paid a visit to the "Country Churchyard, where the poet Gray is buried. Grey's churchyard.How pretty the shady lonesome avenue leading to the churchyard, the tree's overhanging the path on both sides and covered with rustling leaves and blooming flowers of spring! The tomb of the poet is in this secluded country churchyard where beneath rugged elms and yew tree's shade the rude fore-fathers of the hamlet sleep under many a mouldering heap.
After a pleasant row on the Thames in the afternoon we paid a visit to the field to Runnemede, and returned to London the same evening, (25th May 1870).
On the 1st June 1870, we went to see the Derby Race. The race itself is nothing more or less than other horse-races are, but the immense—I may almost say incredible—amount of Derby Race.interest attached to it makes it one of the national institutions of England. The excitement among the people is immense, there is perhaps not a man in ​England who does not take an interest in it, and it is almost beyond the powers of arithmetic to count the people who flock to Derby, not exactly to see the races but for the sake of merrymaking and enjoying a holiday. Railway carriages run from London to Derby, I don't know, how many times every hour, and the road to Derby was almost blocked up with cabs, hansoms, landaulets, flys, omnibuses, traps, dog-carts, and, in fact, conveyances of all size, shape and description that imagination can invent. This is one of the few occasions when Englishmen throw off—or try to throw off—their habitual reserve, and become as merry as possible, and it makes one's heart glad to see crowds of people neatly dressed with faces beaming with gladness and hilarity. Stupid and silly merriments were not wanting;—men with masks and false noses, pea shooters shooting peas at passengers, boys dressed up fantastically, etc., etc., completed the merriment of the day.
No foreigner should leave England without passing a few days in the country. Immediately before leaving for Ireland I passed a few days with a gentleman at his country seat, and an English country seat is a thing of itself worth seeing. Country Life.The neat and well-built country-house of the landlord well-known to the peasantry all round, the wide portico and beautiful gardens and croquet lawns adjacent to it, the ornamental waters and the darksome shrubbery delightfully cool in summer, the fresh open country prospect all round with distant hills seen far off on the horizon, the beautiful glades and ​long avenues and extensive country-parks with deer grazing by hundreds, the village hedge-rows with wild flowers blooming on them and taking the traveller by surprise by their sweet scent, and last though not the least, the neat huts dotting the country-fields, and the village church lifting its modest spire from among them,—these are scenes really worth seeing. But this is not all. In the country you find Englishmen from altogether a different and a new point of view. Freed from the conventionalities of London the Englishman in his country seat is much more free and unfettered,—much more jovial and at home with every one whom he comes across. It is a delight to see him mixing freely and almost familiarly with the poor villagers, asking them kind questions about their homes and lands and the prospects of the year, and stretching out a helping hand to them in times of need. Every village girl too knows but too well the familiar faces of the landlord's wife and daughters, and kind questions and enquiries on the one side, and a confiding and respectful regard on the other sweeten their acquaintance, and in some cases ripen it into almost sisterly affection.
A Sunday at an English village is one of the soberest things imaginable. A man with any degree of fellow sympathy in him cannot see the cheerful looking and neatly dressed groups of villagers and village girls issuing out of their humble cottages and wending to the village church without a feeling of philanthropy in his heart. After the church service is over, you often see village boys and girls assembling at the residence of the landlords and passing the day as a real holiday.
​The eternal, never ending, never tiring subject of conversation among Englishmen is politics, and each class of people has its own ideas on the subject. Politics.Were I called upon to form and enunciate a general rule on the subject, I should say that such classes whose interest it is to usher in changes are, as a rule liberals and radicals, while other sections of the society whose interest impels them to stand up for the existing institutions are mostly conservatives. I will try to explain what I mean.
Aristocracy.—This is pre-eminently a democratic age, and Western Europe with one voice approves of the increasing claims of the people as against the dominant sections of the European society. The lords have lost much of their ancient powers and privileges, but the spirit of the time shews that they have some more yet to lose. Changes and revolutions, therefore, when they do come on, either in opinions or in institutions, are generally in favour of the people, and the Nobility finds it its interest to have as few of such changes as possible. The majority of the Aristocracy therefore are conservatives at heart, and even those of them who pass for liberals are only half-hearted reformers compared to the radicals in the House of Commons.
Landed Gentry.—That creature with little education and less general knowledge, with much love for game and hunting and much real goodness of heart and kindness to dependants,—the typical country 'Squire and Justice of the Peace of whom we read descriptions in old novels is scarcely to be found in England in these ​days of swift locomotion and wide diffusion of knowledge, when news travel so fast and education is reaching the remotest corners of England. In these days, on the contrary, a country gentleman is, generally speaking, a well-educated and well-informed personage who is up in the news of London and the Parliament, still keeps a hospitable table and is fond of game and hunting, visits London every year during the "season," and in general combines the goodness of heart of his ancestor with much of good sense, taste and general education. Notwithstanding this progress, however, there is still a notable difference between the country gentry and the gentry living in towns. The latter are, generally speaking, more advanced and liberal, more active and industrious, and have more extensive views, wider sympathies, and a greater share of zeal and enterprize than the former. Cooped up in his country residence for the greater part of the year, the country 'Squire, generally speaking, cannot sympathize with the most advanced changes in thought and opinions, and finding himself and his tenants too, pretty comfortably off, is incapable of thinking out any alterations in laws which will better the state of the country. He points to the quiet rural church and the peace and contentment of his tenants as the blessings flowing from the existing laws, ascribes all changes to the restlessness of hot-headed reformers, and swears that the country is going to the dogs with fast legislation, with irreligion and disestablishments. The honest, good-hearted, idle, and good-meaning country gentleman, therefore, is in many cases a conservative.
​Town Gentry.—On the other hand, the very high education and enlightenment of the gentry living in towns, their close contact with the interests and opinions of all the different sections of the community from the highest to the lowest, and their intelligence sharpened by constant and varied exercise in the school of the business world, enable them to entertain more extensive views and have wider sympathies than their brethren of the country. They perceive that their own progress and the progress of the country in general have always been due to radical changes in opinions and institutions, and they feel that changes must always be the only means of future progress. The gentry in towns, therefore, are in many cases liberals.
Trades-people.—There is still a distinction, which I cannot but call silly, which places even rich and successful merchants in a class lower than that occupied by the gentry. It is a complaint general among many of the gentry that merchants and tradespeople are following them too close and are treading on their heels, and allusion is sometimes made to those "good old times" when it was something to be born a gentleman! But the daily increasing enlightenment of England is fast closing up such silly distinctions, and every change in institutions leads to further equalization. This equalization is to the tradespeople a consummation devoutly to be wished for, and this class therefore is never averse to change. As a rule, therefore, the tradespeople are liberals and radicals.
Labouring Classes.—This is the only class of people in England utterly devoid of the blessings of education, ​and it is not possible for them therefore to understand their own interests. But they regard with feelings of envy and pain those distinctions which have left them so far below the other classes, and they feel that in order to equalization there must be changes,—be their nature what it may. The labouring classes of England therefore are not only radicals but republicans many of them. Not that they understand much about republicanism, but they have a vague idea that that form of Government carries the idea of equality, and that is what they want. These remarks, however, apply only to the labouring classes in the towns. In the country those classes have neither the education nor the familiarity with political discussion which would enable them to hold any definite political opinions, and generally speaking, they make their opinions coincide with those of their landlords or farmers with as little ceremony or hesitation as (says the Saturday Review humorously) a gentleman would feel in making room for a young lady. It proceeds more from custom and habit than from premeditation!
​space than those which are more remote, even so in the great picture of the world before us the importance of objects near us, not exactly by position but by interest, is made larger by the perspective of selfishness. For of our own needs and requirements we are fully aware, but who cares to or can realize to that full extent the requirements of others?
The other day we went to see the Tower of London,—the "Towers of Julius, London's lasting shame." We entered by the "Lion's Gate," and passed the Tower of London."Bell Tower" where Elizabeth was kept in imprisonment by her cruel sister Mary. Walking on we came to the "Traitor's Gate."—
"That gale misnamed through which before "Went Sidney, Russell, Raleigh, Cranmer, More."
The gate opens on the Thames, and traitors were brought into the towers by boats from the Thames through this gate. Nearly opposite to this gate rises the "Bloody Tower," gloomy and ominous in name, and so called because the infant children of Edward IV. were cruelly butchered here by the inhuman Richard III. Passing under a terrible portcullus we came to the "White Tower" and saw the room in which Raleigh was confined for twelve years and where he began his celebrated "History of the World." In that room are the axe and the block which had severed the heads of three of the queens of Henry VIII., as well as of many other so called traitors. The axe fell so heavily that it went deep into the block and has left marks on it a quarter of an inch in depth.
​In the "Horse Armoury" there is a noble collection of the armours used by the royalty and nobility of England since the days of the Henrys downwards, as well as of the Greek, the Roman and the Anglo-Saxon weapons of war. What was once the "Council Chamber" is now filled with swords and rifles, all beautifully arranged. In the "Beauchamp Tower" we saw the room in which Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey and many other unfortunate prisoners were confined, and the window through which the amiable Lady Jane looked down to see the carcass of her innocent husband carried to be buried at St. Peter's Church. The walls of the room are filled with the hand-writing of many prisoners of note, and among others there are the letters JANE inscribed by the amiable Lady Jane shortly before she was executed.
In the Jewel Room we saw the crowns of the Queen, of the Prince of Wales, of Anne Boleyn and Charles II. and of the Queen of James II., or models of them, as well as the sceptres, &c., comprising the British regalia. The most interesting thing in the room was a model of the koh-i-noor brought from India, being one of the largest pieces of diamond in the world.
Before we left the tower we saw the spot in St. Peter's Church where lie buried the remains of many eminent men beheaded in the tower. "Here," says Macaulay in his semi poetical language, "among the thick graves of unquiet and aspiring statesmen lie more delicate sufferers,—Margaret of Salisbury, the last representative of the proud race of the Plantagenets," the unfortunate lady Jane Grey and three of the Queens of Henry VIII. Here ​lie also live remains of Sir Thomas More, the Protector Somerest, his brother Lord Seymour, Dudley, the husband of Lady Jane, Essex the favourite of Elizabeth, the cruel Jeffery, the unfortunate Monmouth, &c., &c.
Outside the Tower is the Tower Hill where traitors were executed.
We visited St. Paul's Cathedral, one of the largest and most magnificent in the world St. Paul's.and containing the tombs of Nelson and Wellington.
The Polytechnic Institution is a scientific one where there are a great many things amusing and instructive. Polytechnic Institution.Here we went down under water in a diving-bell. The compressed air causes a painful sensation in the ear.
All seems to be over with France in this disastrous war. Army after army has surrendered, battle after battle has been lost, fortress after fortress taken, and Paris—the great, the beautiful, the magnificent—has been closely invested. Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71.And yet the French have not been inactive, they have strained every nerve, they have shewed the world a phenomenon,—what a great nation can do when brought to straits. Not once or twice, but repeatedly they have levied and sent succouring armies from north, south, and west but as often have these armies been beaten back north, south and west by the vigilance and foresight of the besiegers, such as the world never witnessed before. But defeats and disasters have failed to quell the spirit of the French, the annihilation of entire ​armies, tho capture of strong fortresses, the bombardment of the fairest towns, have failed to dishearten or daunt the French, and in the face of a victorious foe France has dared to raise and drill new armies and to lead afresh hundreds and thousands to war after the old army has been utterly annihilated. It is altogether an unprecedented phenomenon,—a sight as noble as it is sorrowful.
The winter has been unusually severe this year, and there was snow on the ground for three weeks together. The thermometer wont down some 12° below the freezing point, water was frozen up every where, and plenty of skating went on during the whole of the period. Winter of 1870-71.The water in our jugs, &c, were now and then covered by a layer of ice on which the Liliputians might well have a jolly skating. Now and then we had a heavy fall of snow, and even the streets of London were sometimes covered with snow 6 inches deep, to the great annoyance of traffic. There was a thaw after this long period of cold, and we had a few days of mild weather, but for the last three or four days the cold has set in again, skating is going on, and every where the ground is covered thick with snow. This afternoon I had a delightful walk up the Primrose Hill and through the Regent's Park. The sky was clear and cloudless to-day and the white sheet of snow looked beautiful indeed under the yellow rays of the setting sun. The Primrose Hill was a hill of uniform white, glittering under the sun, and standing out in bold relief against the greyish blue canvas of the sky. In the park you could see a wide and uniform sheet of snow dotted here and there ​with skeletons of trees casting long shadows over the field of white, or with groups of children with skates on their shoulders, and bounded far off by the hazy range of leafless trees and shrubs. The scene reminded me of the beautiful lines of Cowper in his "Winter Walk at Noon."
"But now at noon, "Upon the southern side of the slant hill ****"The season smiles, resigning all its rage, "And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue "Without a cloud, and white without a speck, "The dazzling splendour of the scene below."
There is no season in England which I enjoy half as well as winter, and nothing is so healthy and so bracing as a brisk walk on a frosty morning with snow under your feet and a cold, bitterly cold, wind blowing on your face and ears. But it is really painful to reflect on the amount of suffering of the poor in this country in this inclement weather. Thousands of poor people live here in ill-constructed houses, with broken windows which hardly keep off the cold blast, with no coals to warm their rooms, no sufficient clothing to keep themselves warm, and in many cases with hardly sufficient food to give them due nourishment. Many people in this country die in winter either of hunger and cold or through diseases generated through insufficient nourishment and exposure to cold. Were we to sympathize with every sufferer in this world, our life would be one long tissue of woe. It is only by forgetting, nay, closing our eyes to what is going on around us, by smothering the ready sympathy of childhood, and steeling our heart against emotions of pity, that we live and work on unconcerned as we do. It is ​only in moments of astounding calamities (the present war is an instance) that people take a due cognizance of the sufferings of their fellowmen; but everyday and every hour there are sufferers around us by hundreds and thousands. The civilization of ages has done much to mitigate the privations of mankind, but how much more has it yet to do!
Devonshire is one of the most beautiful counties in England, and in the richness of its verdure and the luxuriance of its vegetation far surpasses most other places in England. Devonshire.We passed some very happy days in Torquay, a sea-side town in Devonshire, and had plenty of strolling among the "rich woods of Devon," the sombre and luxuriant glens, and the green hills and vales of the country. A trip to Totness whence we came down to Dartmouth by the Dart was very pleasant indeed. The beautiful and meandering Dart after flowing beneath wooded hills and scenes of excessive beauty and richness empties itself into the sea near Dartmouth. Nor must I forget to mention our sailing on the Torbay on a delightful sunny day, nor the hearty dinners that we had here every evening in which the rich Devonshire cream occupied no contemptible a place.
Before leaving England we visited two very interesting places, the ruins of the Kenilworth Castle, and the classic town of Stratford-on-Avon. In the last-mentioned place we saw the house in which Kenilworth and Stratford-on-Avon.Shakespeare lived and the very room in which he was born. The walls ​of that room have been scribbled over by hundreds of visitors who at different times and from different countries came to pay homage to poetry and genius. Among these names we could make out the almost illegible names of Walter Scott and Charles Dickens. The house is in a very good state of preservation, and contains a museum, where among many interesting and curious objects we saw Shakespeare's signet ring. Not far from the house is the site of the "New place," that is, the house which Shakespeare bought later in life, and which has been pulled down since the death of the poet. Covered with shady lime-trees we saw the quiet church of Stratford-on-Avon, and inside the church the tombs containing the remains of Shakespeare and his wife. An inscription on Shakespeare's tombstone prohibits the removal of his bones from that place. By the side of this quiet church "lucid Avon strays," and not far is the park where Shakespeare is said to have sotlen a deer. In the afternoon we left the quiet town of Stratford-on-Avon for Kenilworth.
Independently of the additional interest with which Sir W. Scott has invested the Kenilworth Castle, these colossal and stately ruins have an aspect of desolation and decayed greatness strongly suggestive of the days gone by. I lingered for over an hour among these boary ruins; and the colossal walls veiled by the mellow shades of the evening seemed from their very muteness to speak of the tilts and tournaments, the wars and festivities, the pride of queens and countesses, and the madness of ambition and power of which they have been silent witnesses. ​The oldest part of this castle was built 900 years ago, the latest and by far the most beautiful portion was added by the Earl of Leicester in the reign of Elizabeth.
I have now done my three years' work in England. I have gone through the four "further examinations" which we have to pass in Law, Political Economy and History and Languages of India after being selected at the Open Competition. Departure from England.I have been called to the Bar after keeping 12 terms at the Middle Temple. I have seen different places of interest in England, and have, I hope, learnt some lessons that will be useful to me in life from the every-day life and manners, the characters and virtues of Englishmen. We in India have an ancient and noble civilization, but nevertheless we have much to learn from modern civilization. And I hope as we become more familiar with Europe and with England we shall adopt some great virtues and some noble institutions which are conspicuous in Europe in the present day, and which we need so much. Our children's children will live to see the day when India will take her place among the nations of the earth in manufacturing industry and commercial enterprise, in representative institutions and in real social advancement. May that day dawn early for India.