Glances at Europe. Greeley Horace

IV.

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ENGLAND—HAMPTON COURT.

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      London, Tuesday, May 6, 1851.

      I have seen little yet of England, and do not choose to deal in generalities with regard to it until my ignorance has lost something of its density. Liverpool impressed me unfavorably, but I scarcely saw it. The working class seemed exceedingly ill dressed, stolid, abject and hopeless. Extortion and beggary appeared very prevalent. I must look over that city again if I have time.

      We came up to London by the "Trent Valley Railroad," through Crewe, Rugby, Tamworth, &c., avoiding all the great towns and traversing (I am told) one of the finest Agricultural districts of England. The distance is two hundred miles. The Railroads we traveled in no place cross a road or street on its own level, but are invariably carried under or over each highway, no matter at what cost; the face of the country is generally level; hills are visible at intervals, but nothing fairly entitled to the designation of mountain. I was assured that very little of the land I saw could be bought for $300, while much of it is held at $500 or more per acre. Of course it is good land, well cultivated, and very productive. Vegetation was probably more advanced here than in Westchester Co. N. Y., or Morris Co. N. J., though not in every respect. I estimated that two-thirds of the land I saw was in Grass, one-sixth in Wheat, and the residue devoted to Gardens, Trees, Oats or Barley, &c. There are few or no forests, properly so called, but many copses, fringes and clumps of wood and shrubbery, which agreeably diversify the prospect as we are whirled rapidly along. Still, nearly all the wooded grounds I saw looked meager and scanty, as though trees grew less luxuriantly here than with us, or (more probably) the best are cut out and sold as fast as they arrive at maturity. Friends at home! I charge you to spare, preserve and cherish some portion of your primitive forests; for when these are cut away I apprehend they will not easily be replaced. A second growth of trees is better than none; but it cannot rival the unconscious magnificence and stately grace of the Red Man's lost hunting grounds, at least for many generations. Traversing this comparatively treeless region carried my thoughts back to the glorious magnificence and beauty of the still unscathed forests of Western New-York, Ohio, and a good part of Michigan, which I had long ago rejoiced in, but which I never before prized so highly. Some portions of these fast falling monuments of other days ought to be rescued by public forecast from the pioneer's, the woodman's merciless axe, and preserved for the admiration and enjoyment of future ages. Rochester, Buffalo, Erie, Cleveland, Toledo, Detroit, &c., should each purchase for preservation a tract of one to five hundred acres of the best forest land still accessible (say within ten miles of their respective centers), and gradually convert it into walks, drives, arbors, &c., for the recreation and solace of their citizens through all succeeding time. Should a portion be needed for cemetery or other utilitarian purposes, it may be set off when wanted; and ultimately a railroad will afford the poor the means of going thither and returning at a small expense. If something of this sort is ever to be done, it cannot be done too soon; for the forests are annually disappearing and the price of wood near our cities and business towns rapidly rising.

      I meant to have remarked ere this the scarcity of Fruit throughout this region. I think there are fewer fruit-trees in sight on the two hundred miles of railway between Liverpool and London, than on the forty miles of Harlem Railroad directly north of White Plains. I presume from various indications that the Apple and Peach do not thrive here; and I judge that the English make less account of Fruit than we do, though we use it too sparingly and fitfully. If their climate is unfavorable to its abundant and perfect production, they have more excuse than we for their neglect of one of Heaven's choicest bounties.

      The approach to London from the West by the Trent Valley Railroad is unlike anything else in my experience. Usually, your proximity to a great city is indicated by a succession of villages and hamlets which may be designated as more or less shabby miniatures of the metropolis they surround. The City maybe radiant with palaces, but its satellites are sure to be made up in good part of rookeries and hovels. But we were still passing through a highly cultivated and not over-peopled rural district, when lo! there gleamed on our sight an array of stately, graceful mansions, the seeming abodes of Art, Taste and Abundance; we doubted that this could be London; but in the course of a few moments some two or three miles of it rose upon the vision, and we could doubt no longer. Soon our road, which had avoided the costly contact as long as possible, took a shear to the right, and charged boldly upon this grand array of masonry, and in an instant we were passing under some blocks of stately edifices and between others like them. Some mile or two of this brought us to the "Euston-square Station," where our Railroad terminates, and we were in London. Of course, this is not "the City," specially so called, or ancient London, but a modern and well-built addition, distinguished as Camden-town. We were about three miles from the Bank, Post-Office, St. Paul's Church, &c., situated in the heart of the City proper, though nearer the East end of it.

      I shall not attempt to speak directly of London. The subject is too vast, and my knowledge of it too raw and scanty. I choose rather to give some account of an excursion I have made to the royal palace at Hampton Court, situated fifteen miles West of the City, where the Thames, which runs through the grounds adjacent, has shrunk to the size of the Mohawk at Schenectady, and I think even less. A very small steamboat sometimes runs up as high as this point, but not regularly, and for all practical purposes the navigation terminates at Richmond, four or five miles below.

      Leaving the City by Temple Bar, you pass through the Strand, Charing Cross, the Haymarket, Pall Mall and part of Regent-street into Piccadilly, where you take an omnibus at "the White Horse Cellar" (I give these names because they will be familiar to many if not most American readers), and proceed down Piccadilly, passing St. James's Park on the left, Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens on the right, and so by Kensington Road to a fine suspension bridge over the Thames; you cross, and have passed westerly out of London. You traverse some two miles of very rich gardens, meadows, &c., and thence through the village of Barnes, composed mainly of some two or three hundred of the oldest, shabbiest tumble-down apologies for human habitations that I ever saw so close together. Thence you proceed through a rich, thoroughly cultivated garden district, containing several fine country seats, to Richmond, a smart, showy village ten miles above London, and a popular resort for holiday pleasure-seekers from the great city, whether by steamboat, railway, omnibus or private conveyance. Here is a fleet of rowboats kept for hire, while "the Star and Garter" inn has a wide reputation for dinners, and the scene from its second-story bow window is pronounced one of the finest in the kingdom. It certainly does not compare with that from the Catskill Mountain House and many others in our State, but it is a good thing in another way—a lovely blending of wood, water and sky, with gardens, edifices and other pleasing evidences of man's handiwork. Pope's residence at Twickenham, and Walpole's Strawberry Hill are near Richmond.

      Proceeding, we drove through a portion of Bushy Park, the royal residence of the late Queen Dowager Adelaide, widow of William IV., who here manages, having house, grounds, &c. thrown in, to support existence on an allowance of only $500,000 a year. The Park is a noble one, about half covered with ancient, stately trees, among which large herds of tame, portly deer are seen quietly feeding. A mile or two further brought us to the grounds and palace of Hampton Court, the end and aim of our journey.

      This palace was built by the famous Cardinal Wolsey, so long the proud, powerful, avaricious and corrupt favorite of Henry VIII. Wolsey commenced it in 1515. Being larger and more splendid than any royal palace then in being, its erection was played upon by rival courtiers to excite the King to envy and jealousy of his Premier—whereupon Wolsey gave it outright to the monarch, who gave him the manor of Richmond in requital. Wolsey's disgrace, downfall and death soon followed; but I