Part 2
This magnificent and venerable pile, the second architectural glory of our metropolis, is, like St. Paul’s, the last of several successive structures which have occupied the same spot. The ground on which Westminster Abbey stands was anciently part of a small island, called Thorney Island, or the Isle of Thorns, formed by a branch of the Thames. This branch, leaving the main course of the river near the end of Abingdon Street, ran in a westerly direction along the line of the present College Street, and the south side of Dean’s Yard. It then turned northwardly, skirting the western side of Dean’s Yard, and, crossing Tothill Street, continued its course along Prince’s Street (then Long Ditch). From thence it ran in an eastern direction along Gardener’s Lane, crossing King Street, Parliament Street, and Cannon Row (formerly Channel Row), and rejoined the river near the southern termination of Privy Gardens. The hollow bed of this water-course is still mostly preserved, forming part of the sewers; and in the twelfth century, and probably for a long time afterwards, the open stream was crossed by a bridge at the place where it passed through King Street. Originally, as was indeed the case with the borders of the Thames along nearly the whole of its course to the sea, the ground beyond this hollow was probably to a considerable distance a mere marsh. There is reason to conclude that this was the case almost as far as the present Chelsea Water-Works in one direction, and to the north side of St. James’s Park in another. The island itself may be supposed to have been nearly in the same state. It is said to have derived its name of Thorney from the quantity of thorns with which it was covered. As our old legends have placed a temple of Diana on the site of the present Cathedral of St. Paul’s, so they have conceived it necessary to maintain the equal honour of the Abbey Church by making it the successor of a temple to Apollo; of the existence of which, however, no traces ever have been found. Thorney Island, nevertheless, is generally considered to have had its Christian church as early as its rival in sanctity, the mount on which St. Paul’s is built. The account which has been commonly received is, that Sebert, King of Essex, having been baptized about the year 605, immediately afterwards, to give proof of the sincerity of his conversion, built a church here and dedicated it to St. Peter. It is certain that Sebert was in old times universally regarded as the original founder of the Abbey; no better evidence of which can be desired than the care which is known to have been taken on more than one occasion to preserve his remains and those of his queen Ethelgotha on the repair or reconstruction of the building, and to re-deposit them in the most honourable place within it. Some writers, however, have contended that this church could not really have had any existence till more than a century after the time of Sebert. According to other accounts, again, Sebert was not only the founder of Westminster Abbey, but also of St. Paul’s Cathedral. So imperfect, obscure, and perplexing are the notices that have come down to us of those times.
A fable of no ordinary audacity was invented by the monks in regard to the first consecration of this Abbey. It was pretended that the ceremony had been actually performed by St. Peter in person. We need not repeat the circumstantial details of the story; suffice it to mention, that towards the middle of the thirteenth century the brethren of the monastery actually sued the minister of Rotherhithe for the tithe of the salmon caught in his parish, on the plea, as Fleta informs us, that St. Peter had given them this right at the time when he consecrated their church. After the death of Sebert, his subjects relapsed into paganism, and the church fell into decay. It was restored by the celebrated Offa, King of Mercia, but was again almost entirely destroyed in the course of the Danish invasions. King Edgar, instigated by St. Dunstan, in the year 969, once more repaired the establishment, and endowed it both with lands and privileges. But it was Edward the Confessor who, nearly a century after this, first raised it to the consequence which it has ever since maintained. This monarch, having fixed upon the Abbey for his burial-place, resolved to rebuild it from the foundation, and spared no cost in his endeavour to render the structure the most magnificent that had ever been erected in his dominions. He devoted to the work, we are told, “a tenth part of his entire substance, as well in gold, silver, and cattle, as in all his other possessions.” It was completed in the year 1065, and the 28th of December, the day of the Holy Innocents, was appointed for its dedication. The King, however, was seized on Christmas-day with the illness which proved fatal on the 4th or 5th of January following; and he was not, therefore, present at the ceremony. On the 12th of January his body was interred with great pomp before the high altar; and the Abbey has since received the remains of many of his royal successors. Here also, on Christmas-day the year following, was performed the coronation of William the Conqueror; and in the same place has been crowned (with the single exception, we believe, of Edward V.) every prince who has reigned in England during the nearly eight centuries that have since elapsed.
The structure raised by the Confessor (which was built in the form of a cross, and is supposed to have been the first English church built in that form) remained without receiving any repairs or additions till the reign of Henry III. That king, finding the eastern portion of the edifice much wasted by time, took it down, and began to rebuild it in a style of still greater magnificence than before. Edward I. and succeeding monarchs continued the work which had been thus commenced; but, owing probably in great part to the distracted state of the kingdom, it proceeded so slowly that it was still incomplete when Henry VII. came to the throne, towards the close of the fifteenth century. Henry added the chapel dedicated to the Virgin, which is commonly known by his name, and which, admirably restored as it has recently been, may challenge competition, not certainly in magnitude or grandeur, but in elegance and richness of ornament, and in what we may almost call gem-like beauty and perfection, with any specimen of architecture which the world has elsewhere to show. The principal repairs or alterations that have been made since the time of Henry VII., are those executed by Sir Christopher Wren, under whose superintendence the western towers, which had been till then of unequal heights, were raised to the same elevation, and the whole building was strengthened and renovated. These, it must be confessed, are not in the best taste. Sir Christopher, who despised Gothic architecture, was not the most fit person to be employed in restoring such a structure.
The following wood-cut is a view of the Abbey, from St. James’s Park, before the alterations of Wren. It is copied from a very rare print.
[Illustration: Westminster Abbey and Hall.]
It is impossible for us, within our narrow limits, to attempt either an enumeration of the various curiosities and objects of interest which this Abbey contains, or even any description of the form and architectural character of the building. What is properly the church is in the form of a cross; but its eastern end is surrounded by chapels, varying both in their shape and dimensions. Of these there were formerly fourteen; there are still twelve; and although that called Henry VII.’s stands out from the rest in richness and beauty, several of the others also display considerable luxury of decoration. Here, as probably all our readers are aware, is preserved the famous stone which was brought from Scone in Scotland, by Edward I. in 1296, and upon which our kings have since been crowned. But the principal attraction of Westminster Abbey to the generality of its visitors, arises from the numerous tombs which it contains, some of which are monumental erections of great splendour. Here, all around us, and under our feet, are the mouldering remains of kings, queens, nobles, statesmen, warriors, orators, poets--of those who have been most illustrious during the successive centuries of our history, for rank, power, beauty, or genius. This is surely a field of graves that cannot be trodden by any without emotion, or without many of those thoughts that make us both wiser and better. “I know,” says Addison, in a paper on this subject, “that entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds and gloomy imaginations; but, for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy; and can therefore take a view of nature in her deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this means I can improve myself with those objects which others consider with terror. When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow; when I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the bitter competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.”
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_Perseverance._--King Robert Bruce, the restorer of the Scottish monarchy, being out one day reconnoitring the enemy, lay at night in a barn belonging to a loyal cottager. In the morning, still reclining his head on the pillow of straw, he beheld a spider climbing up a beam of the roof. The insect fell to the ground, but immediately made a second essay to ascend. This attracted the notice of the hero, who, with regret, saw the spider fall a second time from the same eminence, It made a third unsuccessful attempt. Not without a mixture of concern and curiosity, the monarch twelve times beheld the insect baffled in its aim; but the thirteenth essay was crowned with success: it gained the summit of the barn; when the King, starting from his couch, exclaimed, “This despicable insect has taught me perseverance: I will follow its example. Have I not been twelve times defeated by the enemy’s force? on one fight more hangs the independence of my country.” In a few days his anticipations were fully realized by the glorious result to Scotland of the battle of Bannockburn.
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THE WEEK.
[Illustration: John Hunter.]
July 14.--On this day, in the year 1728, was born at Kilbride, in the county of Lanark, Scotland, the celebrated JOHN HUNTER, one of the greatest anatomists of modern times. The early life of this remarkable man formed a strange introduction to the scientific eminence to which he eventually attained. His father having died when he was about ten years old, he seems scarcely, after this, to have received any further school education; but was allowed to spend his time as he liked, till at last he was bound apprentice to a cabinet-maker in Glasgow, whom one of his sisters had married. After some time, however, this person failed--an event which was probably regarded at the moment as a severe family misfortune; but it turned out a blessing in disguise. Hunter’s brother, William, who was ten years older than himself, had, after overcoming the difficulties arising from the expenses of a medical education at the University of Edinburgh, shortly before this settled in London, and was already fast bringing himself into notice. To him John applied when he found himself thrown out of any means of obtaining a living. He requested his brother, who was then delivering a course of lectures on anatomy, to take him as an assistant in his dissecting-room--and intimated that if this proposal should not be accepted he would enlist as a soldier. His brother, in reply, invited him to come to London. This was in September, 1748, when he was in his twenty-first year. Never, perhaps, did any learner make a more rapid progress than John Hunter now made in his new study. Even his first attempt in the art of dissection indicated a genius for the pursuit; and such was the success which rewarded his ardent and persevering efforts to improve himself, that after about a year he was considered by his brother fully competent to take the management of a class of his own. His subsequent rise entirely corresponded to this promising commencement. It was not long before he took his place in the front rank of his profession, and had at his command its highest honours and emoluments. The science of anatomy, however, continued to be his favourite study; and in this he acquired his greatest glory. Not only the chief portion of his time, but nearly the whole of his professional gains, were devoted to the cultivation of this branch of knowledge. One of the principal methods to which he had recourse in order to throw light upon the structure of the human frame, was to compare it with those of the various inferior animals. Of these he had formed a large collection at his villa at Earl’s Court, Brompton; “and it was to him,” says Sir Everard Home, “a favourite amusement in his walks to attend to their actions and their habits, and to make them familiar with him. The fiercer animals were those to which he was most partial, and he had several of the bull kind from different parts of the world. Among these was a beautiful small bull he had received from the Queen, with which he used to wrestle in play, and entertain himself with its exertions in its own defence. In one of these conflicts the bull overpowered him, and got him down; and had not one of the servants accidentally come by, and frightened the animal away, this frolic would probably have cost him his life.” The same writer relates that on another occasion “two leopards that were kept chained in an outhouse, had broken from their confinement, and got into the yard among some dogs, which they immediately attacked. The howling this produced alarmed the whole neighbourhood. Mr. Hunter ran into the yard to see what was the matter, and found one of them getting up the wall to make his escape, the other surrounded by the dogs. He immediately laid hold of them both, and carried them back to their den; but as soon as they were secured, and he had time to reflect upon the risk of his own situation, he was so much affected that he was in danger of fainting.” Mr. Hunter’s valuable museum of anatomical preparations was purchased by Parliament after his death for £15,000; and it is now deposited in the hall belonging to the Royal College of Surgeons, in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields, where the public are admitted to view it on the order of any member of the society. This distinguished person died suddenly on the 16th of October, 1793, in the sixty-sixth year of his age.
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THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.--No. 1.
[ITALY.]
The condition of the Italian labourers varies in the different states. The following accounts are from the best authorities:--
“The labourers in Lombardy (the most fruitful region in Italy) have remained, throughout all the changes of government, what they were before 1796, the servants of those whose lands they work; none have become proprietors. Before the revolution of 1796 the greater part of the land was in the hands of the high nobility and the clergy. Now it is partly in the possession of a small number of shrewd speculators who have known how to take advantages of political changes to enrich themselves. But the peasants have not been benefited by the change. They are still, not by law but by necessity, bound to the soil, in a state of degradation, all their food consisting of a sort of bread made of Indian corn flour, of beans and weak sour wine; they seldom taste meat. Those who are employed on the rice-grounds are still more wretched. They are obliged to remain for hours with their legs in marshy water, and this engenders a cutaneous disease known by the name of _pellagra_, which they generally neglect until they lose the use of their limbs and are obliged at last to go to the hospital where many of them die[2].”
In the ‘Letters from the North of Italy,’ by Mr. S. Rose, the writer describes the following scene of misery,--one out of a thousand:--“A few days ago I saw a poor infant lying under a sack in the convulsions of an ague fit, and the next morning meeting another child whom I knew to be his brother, I asked him ‘How does your brother do?’ to which he answered; ‘Which brother, sir?’--‘Your brother that has the fever.’--‘There are five of us with the fever, sir.’--‘Where do you sleep?’--‘In an empty stable, sir.’--‘Where are your father and mother?’--‘Our mother is dead, and our father begs or does such little chance jobs as offer in the hotel.’--‘And what do you do?’--‘I get up the trees here and pick vine leaves for the waiters to stop the decanters with, and they give us our panada.’ This is bread boiled in water with an infusion of oil or butter. Had my pecuniary means been adequate to my desire to diminish this mass of misery, how was the thing to be accomplished? I do not believe that I could have found a family that would have boarded these melancholy little mendicants, and am quite sure that no one would have had the patience to bear with the waywardness of sickly childhood. In England the parish workhouse, or some neighbouring hospital, would have offered a ready resource. There are hospitals indeed here, but these are so thinly scattered (except those in the Roman States which are both numerous and magnificent), and are administered on such narrow principles, exclusive of particular diseases and particular ages, and always turning upon some miserable question of habitancy, within very confined limits, that they are usually insufficient to the purposes I have mentioned.” This was written from the Venetian States some twelve years ago, since which time workhouses have been introduced into some of the principal towns.
In Tuscany the peasantry are much better off. Labourers’ wages are there between ninepence and a shilling a day, which, considering the low price of provisions, and the mildness of the climate, is comparatively a good remuneration. The women earn money by plaiting straw, out of which the Leghorn hats are made. The farmers are either small proprietors themselves, or, if tenants, share the produce with their landlord, who stocks the farm and provides half the seeds and implements. This mode of holding land by persons not possessing capital is very ancient;--and is now called by writers on political economy, “Metayer Rent.”
Of the peasantry of the provinces of Bologna and Romagna, commonly called the Legations, and placed under the sovereignty of the Pope, we have the following interesting account in Simond’s Travels in Italy:--“The peasants are not proprietors and have not even a lease of their farms, but hold them from father to son by a tacit understanding most faithfully observed. The same roof often contains thirty or forty persons,--different branches of the same family, with one common interest, and governed by a chief who is chosen by themselves and is the sole person responsible to the landlord. He directs all without doors and his wife all within; one or two other women take care of all the children that the fathers and mothers may go to work. _We have lost a child during the night_, said one of them who was not herself a mother. There reigns in general a most perfect harmony in this patriarchal family. When the chief becomes too old, or otherwise incapable, another is chosen who succeeds alike to the engagements and power of his predecessor. He gives half the produce to the landlord, and pays half the taxes. The landlord seldom takes the trouble to inspect the divisions; he chooses only between the heaps laid out by the tenant, and the grain is carried home. The same plan is observed with the hemp, which is not divided till it is pounded and put up into packets. As to the grapes, they are picked into large barrels, and an equal number sent to the farm-house and to the landlord, an operation generally intrusted wholly to the farmer. There are few villages, each farm-house being on the farm. These family associations live much at their ease, but have little money; they consume much of their own produce and buy and sell very little. They have a great deal of poultry for home consumption. The women spin and plait and can even dye. The country diversions go little beyond the game of bowls: they have no dances and no merry-meetings, but in lieu they have fine processions with music, discharge of cannon, and sometimes horse-races. Though wine is very plentiful, a drunken man is a rarity; there are few bloody quarrels, and few thefts, at least domestic ones. The roads are safer here than in the Milanese, notwithstanding the Austrian police of the latter, for there the farms are large and the work is done by poor labourers who have no tie; while here the tenants work for themselves, are at ease, and have no temptation. The education of the people is intrusted to the priests, who give themselves little trouble, and very few peasants can read or write. Each large family generally consecrates a son to the Church; they call him priest Don Peter, Augustin, &c., and he becomes the oracle of the family, but all intimate ties with him are broken and he is called ‘brother’ no more.”
The hardy natives of the Genoese coast, hemmed in between the mountains and the sea, resort mostly to maritime occupations, in order to better their fortunes. Their voyages are generally short, being chiefly confined to the Mediterranean. By strict economy and frugality they save the best part of their earnings which they bring home to their families; who, during their absence, are employed in cultivating their gardens and lemon-trees, or in fishing. By these joint exertions, a numerous population is thriving on a barren soil; and the whole line of the Riviera, or shore, for hundreds of miles, presents a succession of handsome bustling towns and villages, inhabited by a cheerful, healthy, and active race.
Of the peasantry of Southern Italy and their condition we shall speak on a future occasion.
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Footnote 2:
Amministrazione del regno d’Italia.
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ART OF SWIMMING.
[Written by Dr. Franklin to a Friend.]