CHAPTER V.

ENGLAND.-Oxford.-Blenheim Palace and Park.-Woodstock.-Windsor Castle.-Arrival in London.-View from the top of St. Paul's.

THE massive and time-worn structures of Oxford would suggest the idea rather of baronial castles, than of the calm retreats of literature, were it not for the magnificent gardens and groves that mark the place as a fit haunt for the muses. One is here constantly reminded that he is treading on classic ground. There is something strange, especially to an American, in walking the streets of the populous city, so totally withdrawn from the sway of mammon. Here literature sits in high places, and receives that homage which is elsewhere divided between rank and wealth. The antiquated scholastic costume, which is never out of sight, (diamond shaped caps and black gowns being worn by all connected with the university, from the vice-chancellor down to the student in his earliest novitiate,) materially enhances the impression on the visitor, that he is breathing a very different atmosphere from that of ordinary life..

Under the guidance of an American acquaintance, residing at the university, I spent several delightful hours in visiting the different colleges, and walking in the extensive grounds connected with them. "Addison's Walk" was particularly attractive.. The luxuriant grass and shrubbery, and the foliage of the trees, were all in the deepest verdure of June; the birds were singing; the air was filled with fragrance; the delicious sensations inspired by perfect natural beauty, mingling with the classic recollections associated with these lite

rary retreats, made me feel as if one day at Oxford were worth months of common-place existence.

The university comprises twenty colleges and five halls. So extensive are the grounds, and so numerous the quadrangles, one opening into another, around which the massive. edifices are built, that I was completely lost in the labyrinth, and found myself, at the end of our walk, just as ignorant as at the beginning of the relative position of the different colleges. The vast piles of buildings, gray with age—the churches and chapels with their lofty windows of stained glass, admitting a "dim religious light"-the towers and steeples, rising above the surrounding groves-the literary riches of the ample libraries-the old gothic archways-the long colonnades-the statues and paintings of the illustrious men whose genius still seems to hover around the scenes which they once frequented-make up an assemblage of objects, alike imposing to the eye and the imagination. No wonder that the organ of veneration is largely developed at Oxford, where the very air is redolent of antiquity, and science, far from the noise and strife of the busy world, sits secure in her ancient fastnesses.

The grouping together of so many remarkable edifices gives Oxford a very striking appearance, viewed from the surrounding country; and when the stranger enters High street, the effect is exceedingly grand. A beautiful monument, recently erected, marks the spot where Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer suffered martyrdom. The Isis and Charwell, which here unite their streams, add much to the beauty of the town. Walking on their banks, I counted scores of gaily painted rowboats, the property of the students, whose regattas are famous.

From Oxford I rode out to Blenheim Palace, erected in the reign of Queen Anne, for John Churchhill, Duke of

Marlborough. Over the gate by which I entered the magnificent Park, I read the following inscription:

"Porta hæc extructa est anno post obitum illustrissimi Johannis ducis de Marlborough, jussu atque auspiciis Sarae conjugis dilectissimae cui testamento commendavit opera quibus ultimam ipse manum non imposuerat.

"Quanta fuerint ducis in rempublicam merita ingresso tibi pluribus dicet columna quam optimae conjugis pietas poni voluit ut perenne esset ipsius gloriae suaeque dilectionis monumentum. A. D. MDCCXXIII."

Johnson's line," from Marlborough's eyes the streams of dotage flow," conveys an incorrect idea. He had, indeed, two paralytic strokes six years before his death, but recovered his strength and faculties, except that there were a few words which he could not distinctly articulate, and continued to attend Parliament till within half a year of his decease. Still the history of his life affords no unimpressive illustration of the vanity of human wishes. During those wars in which he was developing the character of a consummate general, and filling Europe with the renown of his victories, he was harassed beyond measure by the slow and vacillating measures of the allies with whom he co-operated, while a powerful opposition at home used every art to depreciate his services and tarnish his fame. At one time he speaks of the wearing vexations of four days, making him feel "ten

*"This gate was erected the year after the decease of the illustrious John, Duke of Marlborough, by the command and under the direction of Sarah, his beloved wife, to whom, in his will, he left in charge the works which he had not himself completed.

"How well the duke deserved of his country, entering thou shalt more fully learn from the column which the devoted affection of his most excellent wife caused to be erected, that it might be a perpetual monument of his glory and her love."

years older." The victory of Blenheim, the most memorable of modern times, till thrown into the shade by that of Waterloo, did indeed rouse for a time the enthusiasm of the nation. The crown-lands at Woodstock were bestowed upon him, and the queen undertook to erect there, at her own expense, a magnificent palace. Yet, a few years later, we find this great man dismissed from all his offices, assailed with the bitterest malignity by the dominant party at court, out of favor with the queen, who left him to complete the pile of Blenheim at his own expense, and at length seeking a refuge from persecution and insult, in voluntary exile from his ungrateful country. And although recalled to court on the accession of George I., the closing years of his life were comparatively unhonored.

That the accusations of his enemies, by which his memory has been blackened, were chiefly malicious calumnies, is now generally conceded, although his most partial biographer is obliged to admit the existence of defects, materially obscuring the lustre of his great qualities. The recent publication of his extensive correspondence, certainly exhibits many points in his character in a very favorable light. His habitual recognition of Divine Providence, as directing the course of human events, is particularly worthy of notice in a military leader so renowned.

The ardent affection subsisting between himself and the duchess, is a pleasing feature in the history of both. They were alike remarkable for personal beauty. In early life Turenne distinguished him as "the handsome Englishman ;" and her personal charms, we are told, excited the admiration of a licentious court, while, at the same time, her lofty and commanding character secured its respect. Less partial biographers describe her as proud and imperious.

The cumbrous magnificence of Blenheim Palace reminds

one of the satirical epitaph on Sir John Vanbrugh, the architect:

"Lie heavy on him, earth! for he

Laid many a heavy load on thee."

Aside from mere dimension, there is nothing at all imposing in its exterior. It is a vast pile of brick, forming three sides of a square. The site is not elevated, and red bricks, multiplied to whatever extent, certainly make but a slender approximation to the sublime. Within, however, the long series of apartments present a continuous display of princely splendor. They are profusely decorated with costly paintings, chiefly of the Italian school. The Titian gallery contains several pictures, decidedly less fit for the public eye than any that I afterwards saw in Italy; and indeed in all the apartments, a large party of ladies, that happened to arrive just after me, were evidently at a loss to know which way to look-and American ladies would have been still more so. Among the curiosities is the great heavy watch, somewhat of the warming-pan order. A ten minutes' visit to the library, containing 17,000 volumes, many of them "dark with tarnished gold," was about as satisfying as a glimpse of a Lord Mayor's dinner to a London beggar. Last, we came to the beautiful chapel, where I could not but think that the true gospel, if preached at all, must be announced under rather unfavorable auspices.

duke's

A half crown to the well-dressed attendant elicited a low bow, and a most obsequious "much indebted to you, sir," and I walked forth into the park. In front of the palace, an artificial body of water, covering not less than 250 acres, is crossed by a noble bridge, the disproportion between which, and the shallow stream below, suggested to some hostile wit the pointed epigram:

"The lofty arch his high ambition shows;

The stream an emblem of his bounty flows."