Part 2
The present palace of Holyrood House is a handsome stone edifice, surrounding a court which is nearly square, each side measuring about 230 feet in length. The four different ranges of buildings are flanked by towers at each extremity--and an arcade, supported by pillars, goes round the whole of the interior. The north-west portion of the building is all that remains of the palace erected by James V.; but the apartments which it contains are very interesting. Here are both the state-room and the bed-chamber which were used by Queen Mary, with the old furniture remaining, much of the needlework of which is said to have been done by her own hands. It was in this bed-room that she was sitting at supper, with her half-sister, the Countess of Argyle, when Darnley and his fellow-conspirators rushed in, and dragging forth her minion, Rizzio, slew him at the door of the apartment. The unhappy man received about fifty-five wounds. The trap-door, or opening in the floor of the adjoining passage, by which they ascended from the apartment below, is still shown, as well as certain dark stains on the floor, stated to be the marks made by Rizzio’s blood. The Pretender, Charles Edward, took possession of these apartments when he established himself for a short time in Edinburgh, in 1745, and slept, it is said, in what had been Queen Mary’s bed. The same bed, which still occupies its ancient place, received, a few months afterwards, the victorious Duke of Cumberland, when the slaughter of Culloden had for ever decided the question between the houses of Stuart and Hanover. In later times it has twice served as an asylum to the exiled princes of another house. Charles X. of France, when Count d’Artois, resided here from 1795 till 1799, with his two sons, the Dukes d’Angouleme and de Berri; and the same royal personage, a second time driven from his country, has now a second time found refuge, with his family, within the same walls. A new ‘Fall of Princes,’ such as old Lydgate translated from a French version of Boccaccio’s Latin, or a continuation of the ‘Mirror for Magistrates,’ might be compiled from the history of the successive tenants of Holyrood House since it was first erected by James V.
When his late Majesty visited Scotland in 1822, the state apartments in Holyrood House were fitted up with great magnificence, and their gilded and mirrored walls again reflected the splendour of levees and drawing-rooms. Considerable sums also have since been expended from the crown revenues in restoring the palace; and in consequence many important repairs and alterations have been effected. The largest of the apartments which it contains is a gallery on the north side, 145 feet in length by 25 in breadth, and 18½ in height. This gallery is adorned with 111 imaginary portraits of Scottish kings, all painted by a Flemish artist named De Witt, who was brought over by James VII. to execute the work. They are not worth much more as specimens of art than as illustrations of history. The Duke of Cumberland’s troops, when here in 1746, by way perhaps of evincing their superior connoisseurship, thought proper to stab and slash many of these canvass monarchs with their swords and bayonets; but they have since been repaired, and are now inserted into the panels of the wainscot. It is in this gallery that the elections of the representative peers of Scotland take place.
Next to Queen Mary’s apartments, however, the old chapel is the most interesting part of Holyrood House. It consists, as we have already intimated, only of the nave of the original abbey-church. This ruin (for it is now nothing more) has received in the course of the recent restorations such repairs as will at least arrest for some time the farther progress of decay.
Holyrood House, as being a royal palace, is still a sanctuary for insolvent debtors; and they enjoy the protection, which extends to their effects as well as to their persons, not only within the immediate precincts of the palace, but over the whole of the adjoining royal park. This park is about three miles in circumference, and comprehends within its bounds the hill called Arthur’s Seat, one of the most striking objects of natural scenery to be found in the neighbourhood of any city.
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THE FIREMEN’S DOG.
About three years ago, a gentleman, residing a few miles from the metropolis, was called up to town in the middle of the night, by the intelligence that the premises adjoining his house of business were on fire. The removal of his furniture and papers of course immediately claimed his attention; yet, notwithstanding this and the bustle which is ever incident to a fire, his eye every now and then rested on a dog, whom, during the hottest progress of the devouring element, he could not help noticing running about, and apparently taking a deep interest in what was going on, contriving to keep himself out of every body’s way, and yet always present amidst the thickest of the stir.
When the fire was got under, and the gentleman had leisure to look about him, he again observed the dog, who, with the firemen, appeared to be resting from the fatigues of duty, and was led to make some inquiries respecting him. What passed may perhaps be better told in its original shape of question and answer between the gentleman and a fireman belonging to the Atlas Insurance Office.
_Gentleman._--(stooping down to pat the dog, and addressing the fireman).--Is this your dog, my friend?
_Firemen._--No, sir, he does not belong to me, or to any one in particular. We call him the firemen’s dog.
_Gentleman._--The firemen’s dog! Why so? has he no master?
_Fireman._--No, sir, he calls none of us master, though we are all of us willing enough to give him a night’s lodging and a pennyworth of meat; but he won’t stay long with any of us; his delight is to be at all the fires in London, and, far or near, we generally find him on the road as we are going along, and sometimes, if it is out of town, we give him a lift. I don’t think there has been a fire for these two or three years past which he has not been at.
The communication was so extraordinary, that the gentleman found it difficult to believe the story, until it was confirmed by the concurrent testimony of several other firemen; none of them, however, were able to give any account of the early habits of the dog, or to offer any explanation of the circumstances which led to this singular propensity. A minute of the facts was made at the time by the inquirer, with a view to their transmission to some of the journals or periodicals, which publish anecdotes of natural history of animals; but other things interfered, and the intention was lost sight of.
In the month of June, last year, the same gentleman was again called up in the night to a fire in the village in which he resided, Camberwell in Surrey, and to his surprise here he again met with “the firemen’s dog,” still alive and well, pursuing with the same apparent interest and satisfaction, the exhibition of that which seldom fails to bring with it disaster and misfortune, oftentimes loss of life and ruin. Still he called no man master, disdained to receive bed or board from the same hand more than a night or two at a time, nor could the firemen trace out his ordinary resting-place.
The foregoing account is strictly true, and the truth may be ascertained by inquiry of any of the regular firemen of the metropolis. But who of those best acquainted with the habits of that most sagacious of our quadrupeds shall offer an explanation of the “hobby” of the firemen’s dog?
⁂ We insert this extraordinary story upon the authority of a Correspondent who gives us his name and address.
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CHAUCER’S HOUSE OF FAME.
One of the most curious and interesting of Chaucer’s Poems is that entitled ‘THE HOUSE OF FAME.’ It is of considerable length, being divided into three books, comprising 2170 lines. Whether imitated, as some critics have conjectured, from a foreign original (which however, never has been produced), or constructed by the genius of our English bard, with no further assistance than some hints in the Metamorphoses of Ovid, it is at least equally valuable as a picture of the learning and opinions, on many subjects, of Chaucer’s age, the latter part of the fourteenth century. It is chiefly in reference to its value in this respect, that we mean to notice it at present. We omit, therefore, any analysis of the story, which would occupy more space than we can afford, and which may be found accurately enough given in the 14th section of ‘Warton’s History of English Poetry.’ For a similar reason we shall not stop to notice the poetical beauties in which the work abounds, although some of them deserve to be ranked among the finest examples of romantic loftiness of conception and splendour of colouring.
If it were necessary to prove, contrary to some of the accounts of the invention, that gunpowder was known a considerable time before the close of the fourteenth century, a passage in this poem would show that its use in the charging of fire-arms was already familiar. In book iii. l. 553, the sound is represented as rushing from the trump of Æolus
“As swift as pellet out of gun When fire is in the powder run.”
An engine, probably warlike, for projecting stones, is afterwards alluded to at line 843, where a particular noise is compared to
“The routing[2] of the stone That fro the engine is letten gone.”
But one of the most curious passages in the poem is that in the second book, in which the author unfolds the leading principles of the natural philosophy then in vogue. It is too long to be quoted entire; but we shall give the most material parts of it, only taking the liberty of modernising the spelling where the pronunciation is not thereby affected. The discourse takes the form of an address to the poet himself, from one of the personages of the poem, and begins with the ancient explanation of the phenomena of gravitation. “Geffrey,” says the speaker, in substance, “thou knowest well that every thing in nature hath a natural station in which it may be best preserved and that hither every thing by its natural inclination striveth to come whenever it is not already there.” He then proceeds:--
“As thus, lo! thou may’st all day see, Take any thing that heavy be, As stone, or lead, or thing of weight, And bear it ne’er so high on height; Let go thine hand--it falleth down; Right so, I say, by fire or soun’, Or smoke, or other thinges light, Alway they seek upward on height. Light things up, and heavy down charge, While every of them be at large. And for this cause thou may’st well see That every river to the sea Inclined is to go by kind: And by these skillés[3], as I find, Have fishes dwelling in flood and sea, And trees eke on the earthé be. Thus every thing by his reasòn Hath his own proper mansiòn, To which he seeketh to repair,” &c.
He then goes on, as follows, to explain the philosophy of sound, with more correctness than many may perhaps be prepared to expect:--
“Sound is nought but air y-broken; And every speeché that is spoken, Whether loud or privy, foul or fair, In his substance ne is but air; For as flame is but lighted smoke, Right so is sound but air y-broke. But this may be in many wise, Of the which I will thee devise, As sound cometh of pipe or harp; For when a pipe is blowén sharp The air is twist with violènce, And rent;--lo! this is my sentènce:-- Eke, when that men harp-stringés smite, Whether that it be much or lite[4] Lo! with the stroke the air it breaketh; And right so breaketh it when men speaketh.”
A few lines after, the following account is given of the spreading of sound, which, so far as it goes, is unexceptionable:--
“If that thou Throw in a water now a stone, Well wottest thou it will make anon A little roundel as a circle, Per’venture as broad as a covèrcle[5]; And right anon thou shalt see weel That circle cause another wheel, And that the third, and so forth, brother, Every circle causing other Much broader than himselfen was; And thus, from roundel to compàss, Each abouten othèr going Y-causeth of othèrs stirrìng, And multiplying evermo, Till that it be so far y-go That it at bothé brinkés be....
And right thus every word, I wis, That loud or privy spoken is, Y-moveth first an air about, And of his moving, out of doubt, Another air anon is moved, As I have of the water proved That every circle causeth other; Right so of air, my lievé[6] brother, Every air another stirreth More and more, and speech upbeareth, Or voice, or noise, or word, or soun’, Aye through multiplication.”
Pope, it may be recollected, has introduced this illustration (although in a different part of the narrative) into his Temple of Fame. This poem he wrote in his twenty-third year; and he acknowledges the hint to have been taken from this work of Chaucer’s, although he states that the design is in a manner entirely altered, and the descriptions and most of the particular thoughts his own. It will be found, however, that rather more than half of Pope’s poem is borrowed from that of Chaucer. But Chaucer’s work is altogether more than four times as long as Pope’s.
There is a long passage in the second book of Chaucer’s ‘House of Fame,’ (l. 106-152,) which is exceedingly interesting as giving us an account of the domestic habits of the poet himself. On the same subject may be consulted a shorter passage in book iii. 920-930.
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Footnote 2:
_i.e._ roaring.
Footnote 3:
_i.e._ reasons.
Footnote 4:
_i.e._ little.
Footnote 5:
_i.e._ pot-lid.
Footnote 6:
_i.e._ dear.
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THE WEEK.
August 15.--The birthday of Admiral Blake, one of the noblest of England’s heroes and patriots. Robert Blake was born in 1599, at Bridgewater, in Somersetshire, where his father, who had been a Spanish merchant, was settled. After he had spent some years at Wadham College, Oxford, his father died; and he, being the eldest son, returned to Bridgewater, and lived in a retired manner on the estate which he had inherited. Although known for his attachment to puritan principles, he took no part in public affairs till 1640, when he was returned for Bridgewater to the parliament which met for a few weeks in the early part of that year. But he failed in being re-elected for the one by which it was followed--the celebrated Long Parliament, which was destined to act so memorable a part. He was employed, however, in the war between the King and the nation, which soon after broke out, and distinguished himself by his military talent on various occasions. But it was on another element that his fame was to be chiefly gathered. It was in 1649, when he was fifty years of age, that he was first invested with a command at sea. The expedition on which he was sent was directed against Prince Rupert, whom he pursued from Kinsale, in Ireland, to the Tagus, and thence to Malaga, on the southern coast of Spain, where he scattered or destroyed nearly the whole of his fleet. On his return to England, after this victory, which he had achieved in despite of the opposition of both Spain and Portugal, he was appointed to the honourable office of Warden of the Cinque Ports. In the beginning of the year 1652, when the nation was preparing for war with Holland, Blake was the man who was chosen to be invested with the chief command of the fleet. Hostilities soon commenced, and Blake found himself opposed by the most celebrated admiral of the age, Van Tromp, at the head of one of the finest equipments that had ever been sent out by the first naval power in the world. In the beginning of May Van Tromp appeared in the Channel with forty fine men-of-war; and, by way of defiance, took up his station in Dover Roads. The fleet under Blake’s command consisted only of twenty-six sail; but on the 9th he nevertheless boldly advanced against the enemy, who weighed anchor at his approach, and in reply to three successive guns, which he fired without ball, as a signal for them to strike their flag, ranged themselves in order of battle. A desperate fight ensued, which lasted from four in the afternoon till night, and the result of which was that the Dutch, after losing two of their ships, thought proper to retreat. The next great affair with the enemy, in which Blake was engaged, took place on the 29th of November. On that day he was again met in the Channel by Van Tromp, now at the head of a fleet of seventy men-of-war, and six fire-ships. Blake’s force scarcely exceeded half that of his opponent--but scorning to run away, he determined to try once more what the gallantry of English sailors could do under the conduct of a captain who had before led them on to victory through so unequal a strife. And perhaps his courage might have been again crowned with success; but besides being obliged to contend throughout the engagement with an adverse wind, he himself unfortunately received a wound which partially disabled him, and threw a part of his forces into disorder. The consequence was, that after a conflict which lasted from eight in the morning till night, the English found themselves obliged to retreat, and to take refuge partly in the Downs and partly in the Thames. Although the circumstances were such as to remove from it all disgrace, Blake probably felt this defeat severely, especially as it was followed by the most arrogant and insulting conduct on the part of the Dutch admiral, who immediately made his way through the Channel, bearing the ensign of a broom fastened to his main-topmast, as if to signify that he had swept those seas of British ships. But in the February following, the English hero, having employed the interval with admirable diligence in repairing his ships, again put to sea with a fleet of sixty sail, and soon after encountered his old adversary at the head of seventy men-of-war, and having three hundred merchantmen under convoy. The battle this time was far more obstinate than any that had yet been fought between them: for three days the two armaments, running up the Channel together, scarcely intermitted their furious fire; when at last, on the fourth morning, the Dutch, having lost eleven of their ships of war and thirty merchantmen, while only one of the English vessels was destroyed, took flight for the coast of Holland. Several other engagements took place between the two admirals in the course of the same year; and the result, upon the whole, was decidedly in favour of the English. Having thus asserted the dominion of his countrymen over their surrounding seas, Blake returned to England, and was received both by the Protector and the people with all respect and honour. Some time before this Cromwell had dismissed the Long Parliament, and openly assumed arbitrary power; but Blake being at sea when this change took place, grieved and indignant as his noble spirit must have felt, restrained himself from giving expression to his sentiments; and calling his officers together, merely remarked to them, that, with the enemy yet unsubdued, they had clearly in the mean time only one duty to perform: “It is not for us,” said he, “to mind state affairs, but to keep the foreigners from fooling us.” In the parliament which assembled in September, 1654, Blake was returned for Bridgewater; and he sat in the House till 1656, when he was despatched with a fleet to the Mediterranean, to chastise Spain for certain insults which that power had offered to the English flag. He acquitted himself in this expedition with his usual ability; but after having done great injury to the marine of the enemy, and taken many rich prizes, he was attacked by an illness which rapidly enfeebled him, and from which indeed he soon felt that he could not recover. He exerted himself, however, as long as his strength would allow, and even engaged in a new enterprise against Santa Cruz, in Teneriffe, which was attended with splendid success, after it had become evident that this would be his last service of gallantry to his country. He then set sail for England; and as life was fast ebbing, the only and constant wish he expressed was that he might but once more rest his eyes, for however short a space, on the coast of his native land before closing them for ever. His wish, and no more, was granted. He expired as the fleet was entering Plymouth Sound, on the 27th of August, 1657. A true model in all things of a British sailor, Blake had been during his life as prodigal of his money among his comrades as of his personal exertions in the service of his country; and notwithstanding the ample opportunities he had had of enriching himself, it was found that he had not increased his paternal fortune by so much as 500_l._ A magnificent public funeral, and the interment of his body in Henry VII.’s Chapel, in Westminster Abbey, testified the grief of England for the loss of her greatest defender; but among the mean outrages which disgraced the triumph of the Restoration, it was one of the very meanest that Blake’s mouldering remains were removed from the honourable resting-place thus assigned to them, and deposited in the neighbouring church-yard of St. Margaret. They could not, however, remove his glory from the page of the national history, nor bury among common and forgotten things the name and actions of one who, as having first taught our seamen that daring and contempt of danger for which they have ever since been famous, deserves to be regarded as, more than any other, the founder of the naval greatness of England.
[Illustration: Admiral Blake.]
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