A Morning's Walk from London to Kew.

by Richard Phillips.

PREFACE.

The Author of the following Observations, made during #A MORNING'S WALK#, will doubtless be allowed to possess but a moderate degree of literary ambition. He has not qualified himself, by foreign travels, to transport his readers above the clouds, on the Andes, the Alps, or the Apennines; to alarm them by descriptions of Earthquakes, or Eruptions; or to astonish them by accounts of tremendous Chasms, Caverns, and Cataracts: but he has restricted his researches to subjects of home scenery, which thousands can daily examine after him; and consequently has not enjoyed that _lat.i.tude_ of fancy, or been able to exercise any of those rare powers of _hearing_ and _seeing_, by means of which travellers into distant regions are enabled to stimulate curiosity and monopolize fame.

The cla.s.s of readers who seek for sources of pleasure beyond the ordinary course of nature, will therefore feel disappointment in attempting to follow a pedestrian tourist through a route so dest.i.tute of wonders. Nor will this feeling, it is to be feared, be confined to searchers after supernatural phenomena in regard to the facts which appertain to such a work. In the sentiments which accompany his narrations, it will be found that the Author, accustomed to think for himself, admits no standards of truth superior to the evidence of the senses and the deductions of reason; consequently, that his conclusions on many important topics are at variance with existing practices, whenever it appears they have no better foundation than the continuity of prejudices and the arbitrary laws of custom. He therefore entertains very serious doubts whether his work will be acceptable to those #learned Professors# in Universities, who teach no doctrines or opinions but those of their predecessors; or whether it will suit #Students#, whose advancement depends on their submission to the dogmata of such superiors. He questions whether it will ever be quoted as an authority by #Statesmen# who consider the will of princes as standards of wisdom;--by #Legislators# who barter away their votes, and decide on the presumed integrity of ministers and leaders;--by #Politicians# who banish the moral feelings from their practices;--or by #Economists# who do not consider individual happiness as the primary object of their calculations. Nor is he more sanguine that his work will prove agreeable to those #Natural Philosophers# who account for phenomena by the operation of virtues or influences which have no mechanical contact;--or to those #Metaphysicians# who conceive that truth can be exhibited only in the sophistical subtleties of the schools displayed in the mazy labyrinths of folios and quartos;--or to those #Theologians# who maintain that the obligations of reason and morality are superseded by those of Faith. While, in regard to those #Topographers# and #Antiquaries# whose studies are bounded by dates of erection, catalogues of occupants, and copies of tomb-stones;--to those #Naturalists# who receive delight from enumerations of Linnaean names of herbs, shrubs, and trees, and from Wernerian descriptions of rocks;--to those #Bibliomaniacs# who value a book in the inverse ratio of the information it contains;--and to those #learned Philologists# who see no beauties in modern tongues, and affect to find (_but without antic.i.p.ating any of them_,) all modern discoveries of Natural Philosophy in Homer, and all improvements of mental Philosophy in the mysteries of Plato--the author deeply laments his utter inability to accommodate either his taste, his feelings, or his conclusions.

In regard to the spirit, tone, and character of the author's opinions, they have necessarily emanated from the state of knowledge, in an era when, at the termination of four centuries after the adoption of Printing, mankind have achieved _four_ great objects; (1,) in the #REVIVAL# of Literature, and #REGENERATION# of Philosophy; (2,) in the #EMANc.i.p.aTION# of Christendom from the systematic thraldom of Popery; (3,) in the a.s.sertion of #THE RIGHTS OF MAN#, against overwhelming usurpations; and (4,) in the establishment of #A SPIRIT OF FREE ENQUIRY#, which const.i.tutes the vivifying energy of the age in which we live, and promises the most important results in regard to the future condition and happiness of the human race.

The accomplishment of these circ.u.mstances has generated, in all countries, a numerous cla.s.s of readers, among whom are many #Professors#, #Philosophers#, #Statesmen#, #Politicians#, #Theologians#, #Antiquaries#, #Naturalists#, and #eminent Scholars#; besides #Amateurs# of general Literature, with whose taste, feelings, and principles, the Author of this volume is anxious to identify his own, and whose favourable opinion he is ambitious to enjoy;--these are the free and honest searchers after #MORAL#, #POLITICAL#, and #NATURAL TRUTH#,--the votaries of #COMMON SENSE#,--the patients of their #NATURAL SENSIBILITIES#,--all, who are neither #TOO OLD#, #TOO POWERFUL#, nor #TOO WISE#,--and, finally, all those #WHO Pa.s.s THEIR LIVES IN SEARCH OF HAPPINESS#, and who are not unwilling to be pleased, in whatsoever form, or by whomsoever the attempt may be made:

TO SUCH ESTIMABLE PERSONS, IN ALL COUNTRIES, AND IN ALL SITUATIONS, THE AUTHOR RESPECTFULLY DEDICATES THIS VOLUME.

_Holloway, Middles.e.x;_ _February 8, 1817._

A MORNING'S WALK FROM LONDON TO KEW.

We roam into unhealthy climates, and encounter difficulties and dangers, in search of curiosities and knowledge, although, if our industry were equally exerted at home, we might find in the tablets of Nature and Art, within our daily reach, inexhaustible sources of inquiry and contemplation. We are on every side surrounded by interesting objects; but, in nature, as in morals, we are apt to contemn self-knowledge, to look abroad rather than at home, and to study others instead of ourselves. Like the French Encyclopaedists, we forget our own Paris; or, like editors of newspapers, we seek for novelties in every quarter of the world, losing sight of the superior interests of our immediate vicinity.

These observations may perhaps serve as a sufficient apology for the narrative which follows:--existing notions, the love of the sublime, and the predilections above described, render it necessary for a _home_ tourist to present himself before the public with modesty. The readers of voyages round the whole world, and of travels into unexplored regions of Africa and America, will scarcely be persuaded to tolerate a narrative of an excursion which began at nine in the morning and ended at six in the afternoon of the same day! Yet such, truly, are the _Travels_ which afford the materials of the present narrative; they were excited by a fine morning in the latter days of April, and their scene was the high-road lying between #London# and #Kew#, on the banks of the Thames.

With no guide besides a map of the country round the metropolis, and no settled purpose beyond what the weather might govern, I strolled towards St. James's Park. In proceeding between the walls from Spring Gardens, I found the lame and the blind taking their periodical stations on each side of the pa.s.sage.--I paused a few minutes to see them approach one after another as to a regular calling; or as players to take their stations and _enact_ their settled parts in this drama.

One, a fellow, who had a withered leg, approached his post with a cheerful air; but he had no sooner seated himself, and stripped it bare, than he began such hideous moans as in a few minutes attracted several donations. Another, a blind woman, was brought to her post by a little boy, who carelessly leading her against the step of a door, she petulantly gave him a smart box of the ear, and exclaimed, "D----n you, you rascal, can't you mind what you're about;"--and then, leaning her back to the wall, in the same breath, she began to chaunt a _hymn_, which soon brought contributions from many pious pa.s.sengers.

The systematic movements of these people led me to inquire in regard to their conduct and policy from an adjacent shop-keeper, who told me, that about a dozen of them obtained a good living in that pa.s.sage; that an attendance of about two hours per day sufficed to each of them, when, by an arrangement among themselves, they regularly succeed each other. He could not guess at the amounts thus collected, but he said, that he had once watched a noisy blind fellow for half an hour, and in that time saw thirty-four people give him at least as many halfpence; he thence, and from other observations, concluded that in two or three hours each of them collects five or six shillings! We cannot wonder then at the aversion entertained by these unhappy objects to the indiscriminate discipline of our common work-houses; nor can we blame the sympathy of those benevolent persons who contribute their mite to relieve the cries of distress with which they are a.s.sailed. But it excites our wonder and grief that statesmen, who have superfluous means for covering the country with barracks, should find themselves unable to establish comfortable asylums for all the poor who are incurably diseased, in which they should be so provided for, that it would be as criminal in them to ask, as in others to afford them, eleemosynary relief.

On my entrance into the Park, I was amused and interested by an a.s.semblage of a hundred mothers, nurses, and valetudinarians, accompanied by as many children, who are drawn together at this hour every fine morning by the metropolitan luxury of milk warm from the cow. Seats are provided, as well as biscuits, and other conveniences, and here from sun-rise till ten o'clock continues a _milk fair_, distinguished by its peculiar music in the _lowing_ of cows, and in the discordant _squalling_ of the numerous children. The privilege of keeping these cows, and of selling their milk on this spot, belongs to the gate-keepers of the Park; and it must be acknowledged to be a great convenience to invalids and children, to whom this wholesome beverage and its attendant walk are often prescribed.

On the right hand stands the garden-wall of the puny, though costly, palace of the Regent, Prince of Wales. It is, however, fortunate, that it is not larger, if the expenditure of palaces, like that of private houses, were to keep pace with their bulk. The inside is adorned like the palace of Aladin; and a better notion of its splendour may be formed, by stating that it has cost the labours of twenty thousand men for a year, or of one thousand for twenty years, than that above a million sterling has at different times been expended upon the building and furniture. Yet, it is said that it forms but the eastern wing of a palace, which the architects of this Prince have projected, and that half the south side of Pall-Mall and considerable tracts of the Park will be appropriated to complete their plans, if approved by their royal patron. I am aware, that the love of shew in princes, and persons in authority, is often justified by the alledged necessity of imposing on the vulgar; but I doubt whether any species of imposition really produces the effect which the pomp of power is so willing to ascribe to it, as an excuse for its own indulgences. Nor ought it ever to be forgotten, that no tinsel of gaudy trappings, no architectural arrangements of stone or wood, no bands of liveried slaves, (however glossed in various hues, or disguised by various names,) can sustain the glory of any power which despises public opinion, forgets the compact between all power and the people, violates the faith of public treaties, and measures its moral obligations, not by the sense of justice, but by considerations of expediency and self-interest! On this important, though almost exhausted, topic, it should be known by all Princes who covet true glory, that #Washington the Great# hired no armed men to sustain his power, that his habits were in all things those of a private citizen, and that he kept but one coach, merely for occasions of state--his personal virtues being his body-guards--the justice of his measures const.i.tuting the strength of his government,--the renown of his past deeds enshrining him with more splendour than could be conferred by the orders of all the courts in Europe--his unquestionable love of public liberty endearing him to the people over whom he presided--and the pure flame of his patriotism causing him to appear in their eyes as a being more than mortal!

Britain might envy America her #Washington#, if she could not herself boast of #an Alfred#, worthy also of being called #the Great#--a sovereign who voluntarily conceded liberty to his people, and founded it on bases which all the inglorious artifices of his successors have been unable to undermine--but, alas! such men, like Epic poets, seem destined to succeed but once in a thousand years!

On the left hand I beheld, in various magnificent erections, the germs of innumerable a.s.sociations, gratifying to the vice of national pride; but affording little pleasure to one whose prejudices of principle, and habits of thinking, have taught him to estimate all human labours by their influence on the happiness of the sentient creatures to whom the earth is a common inheritance. There was #the British Admiralty#--the just pride of a people's defence against foreign invaders--but less worthy of admiration, if ever used as an instrument of ambition, or as a means of gratifying base pa.s.sions. There was the #British War-Office#, of which a Briton can say little, who doubts the policy of the colonial system, who feels a conviction that "Britain's best bulwarks are her wooden walls," and who thinks that the sword should never be wielded but by citizen soldiers, nor ever be used till the constable's staff has been exerted in vain. And there was #the British Treasury#, the talisman of whose power has destroyed the efficacy of t.i.tle-deeds, and converted the land and houses of the empire into paper-money and stock-debts, for the purpose of carrying on wars and performing deeds, which impartial history will justly characterize, when alas! the truth will be useless to the suffering victims!

Just at this moment I beheld several bands of armed men, disguised in showy liveries, drawn up in array to exercise themselves for combat.

But, having no taste for such mistakes of power, and being in no degree deluded by the gloss of their clothes, the glitter of their murderous weapons, or the abuse of celestial harmony in the skill of their musicians, I silently invoked the energies of truth to remove from the understandings of men, that cloud which permits such illusions to be successful. No legitimate power, like that of the government of England, founded on such bases as Magna Charta, the laws of Edward the First, the Pet.i.tion of Right, the Bill of Rights, and the Act of Settlement, can, for its lawful purposes, ever stand in need, in a properly educated community, of the support of a single man armed with a murderous weapon.

These piles of buildings, ranged in a semi-circular form, are imposing on, the eye from their magnitude, and on the imagination from their fame. I paused to enjoy their perspective; but, is not senseless #WAR#, I exclaimed, even now ravaging or disturbing the four quarters of the world, and is it not from this scite that it receives its impulse and direction? I charitably hoped that mere errors of judgment had guided the councils of the men who inhabit these buildings--but I sickened as I thought of the consequences of their errors, perhaps at that moment displayed in distant parts of the earth in agonies of despair and in smoking ruins--and, to avoid the succession of feelings which were so painful, yet so unavailing, I turned away from the spot.

In my way towards and along the Mall, I remarked that few were walking in my direction; but that all the faces and foot-steps were earnestly directed towards London. The circ.u.mstance exemplified that feature of modern manners which leads thousands of those who are engaged in the active business of the metropolis to sleep, and to keep their families, in neighbouring villages. These thousands walk or ride, therefore, every day to and from London, at hours corresponding with the nature and urgency of their employments. Before nine o'clock the various roads are covered with clerks of the public offices, and with bankers' and merchants' clerks, who are obliged to be at their posts at that hour, all exhibiting in their demeanor the ease of their hearts. From nine till eleven, you see shop-keepers, stock-brokers, lawyers, and princ.i.p.als in various establishments, bustling along with careful and anxious countenances, indicative of their various prospects and responsibilities. At twelve, saunters forth the man of wealth and ease, going to look at his balances, orders, or remittances; or merely to read the papers and hear the news; yet demonstrating the folly of wealth by his gouty legs, or cautious rheumatic step. Such is the routine of the Park, along which no carriages are allowed to pa.s.s; but other avenues into the metropolis present, through every forenoon, besides lines of pedestrians, crowded stage-coaches, private coaches, and chariots, numerous gigs and chaises, and many equestrians.

I amused myself with a calculation of the probable number of persons who thus every day, between eight and six, pa.s.s to and from London within a distance of seven miles. In the present route I concluded the numbers to be something like the following, 200 from Pimlico, 300 from Chelsea, 200 from the King's Road and Sloane Street, 50 from Fulham and Putney, and 50 from Battersea and Wandsworth; making 800 per day.

If then, there are twenty such avenues to the metropolis, it appears that the total of the regular ingress and egress will be 16,000 persons, of whom perhaps 8,000 walk, 2,000 arrive in public conveyances, and 6,000 ride on horseback, or in open or close carriages. Such a phenomenon is presented no-where else in the world; and it never can exist except in a city which unites the same combined features of population, wealth, commerce, and the varied employments which belong to our own vast metropolis.

I observed with concern that this Park presents a neglected appearance. The seats are old and without paint, and many vacancies exist in the lines of the trees. The wooden railing round the centre is heavy and decayed, and the appearance of every part is unworthy of a metropolitan royal domain, adjoining the constant residence of the court. I was also struck with the aspect of St. James's Palace in ruins! A private dwelling after a fire would have been restored in a few weeks or months; but the nominal palace of the four preceding sovereigns of England, the last of the Stuarts and three first of the Guelphs, and the scene of their chief grandeur, presents even to the contemporary generation a monument of the instability of every human work. The door at which Margaret Nicholson made her attempt on the life of George the Third, and at which the people were used to see that monarch enter and depart for many years past, is now a chaos of ruins; as is that entire suite of apartments which led to those drawing-rooms in which the Court was accustomed to a.s.semble, till within these five years, on birth and gala days!--He would have been deemed a false and malignant prophet, who seven years ago might have foretold that the public Palace of the Kings of England would so soon become a heap of unrepaired ruins, and its splendid chambers "the habitation of the fowls of the air." Yet, such has been the fact, in regard to the eastern apartments of this famous Palace!

My spirits sunk, and a tear started into my eyes, as I brought to mind those crowds of beauty, rank, and fashion, which, till within these few years, used to be displayed in the centre Mall of this Park on Sunday evenings during the spring and Summer. How often in my youth had I been a delighted spectator of the enchanted and enchanting a.s.semblage! Here used to promenade, for one or two hours after dinner, the whole British world of gaiety, beauty, and splendour! Here could be seen in one moving ma.s.s, extending the whole length of the Mall, five thousand of the most lovely women, in this country of female beauty, all splendidly attired, and accompanied by as many well-dressed men! What a change, I exclaimed, has a few years wrought in these once happy and cheerful personages!--How many of those who on this very spot then delighted my eyes are now mouldering in the silent grave!--And how altered are all their persons, and perhaps their fortunes and feelings! Alas, that gay and fascinating scene no longer continues, and its very existence is already forgotten by the new generation! A change of manners has put an end to this unparalleled a.s.semblage, to this first of metropolitan pleasures, though of itself it was worth any sacrifice. The dinner hour of four and five, among the great, or would-be great, having shifted to the unhealthy hours of eight or nine, the promenade after dinner, in the dinner full-dress, is consequently lost. The present walk in the Green-Park does not possess therefore the attractions of high rank; while the morning a.s.semblages in Hyde-Park and Kensington-Gardens, though gay and imposing, have little splendour of dress, and lose the effect produced by the presence of rank and distinguished character, owing to the greater part of the company being shut up in carriages.

The modern custom of abandoning the metropolis for the sea-coast, or the country, as soon as the fine weather sets in, operates too as another draw-back from the fascination and agreeableness of our Sunday promenades. Ancient manners, in the capricious whirl of fashion, may however again return; and, if the dinner-hour should recede back to four, I trust the luxury and splendour of this delightful Mall will be restored.

These Parks may be denominated the Lungs of the metropolis, for they are essential to the healthful respiration of its inhabitants, by contributing to their cheap and innocent pleasures. Under a wise and benevolent administration, they might be made to add still more to the public happiness, and it would be a suitable homage of the government to the people, to render these promenades as attractive as possible.

The two bands of the Guards might be allowed to play in the Malls for two hours every evening, between Lady-day and Michaelmas, and the number and construction of the seats might be increased and improved.

Such measures would indicate, at least, a desire in the governors to contribute to the happiness of the governed, and would occasion the former to appear to the latter in a more grateful character than as mere a.s.sessors of taxes, and as organs of legal coercion.

At Pimlico, the name of Stafford-Row reminded me of the ancient distinction of Tart-Hall, once the rival in size and splendour of its more fortunate neighbour, Buckingham-House, and long the depository of the Arundelian Tablets and Statues. It faced the Park, on the present scite of James-Street; its garden-wall standing where Stafford-Row is now built, and the extensive livery-stables being once the stables of its residents.

I turned aside on the left, to view the river Tye, or _Ty-bourn_, which runs from the top of Oxford-street, under May-Fair, across Piccadilly, south-east of Buckingham-House, under the pavement of Stafford-Row, and across Tothill-Fields, into the Thames. It is a fact, equally lost, that the creeks which run from the Thames, in the swamps, opposite Belgrave-Place, once joined the ca.n.a.l in St.

James's-Park, and, pa.s.sing through White-Hall, formed, by their circuit, the ancient isle of St. Peter's. Their course has been filled up between the wharf of the water-works and the end of the ca.n.a.l in St. James's-Park; and the Isle of St. Peter's is no longer to be traced. It is singular that such a marsh should have become the focus of the government, jurisprudence, and power, of this great empire!

Yet, so it is, the offices of Government, the Houses of Parliament, and the Supreme Courts of Law, stand on the lowest ground in or near the metropolis; the greater part of which is still the swamp of Tothill and Milbank-Fields; and the whole is exposed to the inundations of land-floods or extraordinary tides. A moralist would say, that such bulwarks of a nation ought to have been seated on a rock--a wit would refer to the nature of the soil, the notorious corruptions of the body-politic--and a votary of superst.i.tion would ascribe the splendid fortunes of the scite to the favour of heaven, as announced in the vision to the monks who, eleven hundred years since, built Westminster-Abbey, in so unpromising a situation!

The wall of what are called the Gardens of Buckingham House, form one side of the main street of Pimlico; but these gardens consist merely of a gravel walk, shaded by trees, with a s.p.a.cious and unadorned area in the centre. The whole, is the property of Queen Charlotte, and is inaccessible to a visit of mere curiosity.

The water-works, to the left of the road, supply Pimlico and part of Westminster with water, and, I may add, with smoke, of which it emits large volumes, though there are so many contrivances for consuming it.

It consists simply of a steam and forcing engine, not remarkable for novelty or ingenuity of construction. Opposite stands the manufactory of the ingenious #Bramah#, whose locks baffle knavery, and whose condensing engines promise such important results to philosophy and the mechanic arts. Belgrave-Place, lower and upper, proves the avidity of building-speculations, which could thus challenge the prejudices against the opposite marshes. But I was a.s.sured by a resident of twenty years, that he and his family had enjoyed uninterrupted health in Upper Belgrave-Place, and that such was the general experience.

On entering Chelsea, I was naturally led to inquire for the scite of the once gay Ranelagh! I pa.s.sed up the avenue of trees, which I remember often to have seen blocked up with carriages. At its extremity, I looked for the Rotunda and its surrounding buildings; but, as I could not see them, I concluded, that I had acquired but an imperfect idea of the place, in my nocturnal visits! I went forward, on an open s.p.a.ce, but still could discern no Ranelagh! At length, on a spot covered with nettles, thistles, and other rank weeds, I met a working man, who, in answer to my inquiries, told me, that he saw I was a stranger, or I should have known that Ranelagh had been pulled down, and that I was then standing on the scite of the Rotunda!

Reader, imagine my feelings, for I cannot a.n.a.lyze them! This vile place, I exclaimed, the scite of the once-enchanting Ranelagh!--It cannot be--the same eyes were never destined to see such a metamorphosis! All was desolation!--A few inequalities appeared in the ground, indicative of some former building, and holes filled with muddy water shewed the foundation walls--but the rest of the s.p.a.ce, making about two acres, was covered with cl.u.s.ters of tall nettles, thistles, and docks!

On a more accurate survey, I traced the circular foundation of the Rotunda, and at some distance discovered the broken arches of some cellars, once filled with the choicest wines, but now with dirty water! Further on were marks against a garden wall, indicating, that the water-boilers for tea and coffee had once been heated there! I traced too the scite of the orchestra, where I had often been ravished by the finest performances of vocal and instrumental music! My imagination brought the objects before me; I fancied I could still hear an air of Mara's; I turned my eye aside, and what a contrast appeared!--No glittering lights!--No brilliant happy company!--No peals of laughter from thronged boxes!--No chorus of a hundred instruments and voices!--All was death-like stillness! Is such, I exclaimed, the end of human splendour?--Yes, truly, all is vanity--and here is a striking example!--Here are ruins and desolation, even without antiquity! I am not mourning said I, over the remains of Babylon or Carthage--ruins sanctioned by the unsparing march of time!--But here it was all glory and splendour, even yesterday! Here, but seven years have flown away, and I was myself one of three thousand of the gayest mortals ever a.s.sembled, in one of the gayest scenes which the art of man could devise--aye, on this very spot--yet the whole is now changed into the dismal scene of desolation before me!--Full of such reflections, I cast my eyes eastward, when Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Church presented themselves in a continued line--Ah! thought I, that line may at some distant epoch enable the curious antiquary to determine the scite of our British Daphne; but I could not avoid feeling, that if the pile of Ranelagh and its glories have so totally disappeared, in so short a season, no human work, even yonder colossal specimens of Gothic and Grecian art, or the great Metropolis itself, can be deemed a standard of locality for the guide of distant ages! I moved pensively from a spot which exciting such solemn and affecting emotions, had diminished the vigour of my frame by exhausting my nervous energies.

I soon turned the corner of a street which took me out of sight of the s.p.a.ce on which once stood the gay Ranelagh; but it will be long ere I can remove from my heart the poignant sensations to which its sudden destruction had given rise.[1]

[1] I afterwards learnt in Chelsea, that, latterly, Ranelagh did not pay the proprietors five per cent. for their capital, and therefore they sold the materials to the best bidder.

Before me appeared the shops so famed for _Chelsea buns_, which, for above thirty years, I have never pa.s.sed without filling my pockets. In the original of these shops, for even of Chelsea buns there are counterfeits, are preserved mementos of domestic events, in the first half of the past century. The bottle-conjuror is exhibited in a toy of his own age; portraits are also displayed of Duke William and other noted personages; a model of a British soldier, in the stiff costume of the same age; and some grotto-works, serve to indicate the taste of a former owner, and were perhaps intended to rival the neighbouring exhibition at Don Saltero's. These buns have afforded a competency, and even wealth; to four generations of the same family; and it is singular, that their delicate flavour, lightness and richness, have never been successfully imitated. The present proprietor told me, with exultation, that George the Second had often been a customer of the shop; that the present King, when Prince George, and often during his reign, had stopped and purchased his buns; and that the Queen, and all the Princes and Princesses, had been among his occasional customers.

A little further to the west, is a vulgar sign of _Nell Gwyn_, to whose female sensibility, and influence on royalty, are ascribed the foundation of the adjoining hospital for invalid soldiers. If the mistresses of Princes always made a similar use of their ascendency, and were to teach their royal lovers to respect the duties of humanity, and build hospitals for the victims of their idiotic ambition, the world would complain less of their extravagancies and vices. The excellent hearts of women might warrant such an expectation; but, unhappily, this depraved portion of the s.e.x generally part with their feminine sensibilities, at the same time that they part with their character and modesty. Contemned, despised, or neglected by the world, they become haters of their species, and too commonly make use of their power, to avenge on society the personal affronts which they are compelled to endure.

The approach to the hospital was indicated by the appearance of numbers of mutilated soldiers. It afflicted me, to see young men of two or three and twenty, some of whom had lost both their arms, and others both their legs! I learnt, on enquiry, that a few living objects of this description are all that now remain of regiments of their comrades! The rest had been killed in battle, or had died of fatigue, or camp diseases! The querulous _why_, and _for what_, still crossed my imagination; but I again referred such busy doubts to ministers! I _may_ be wrong; they _cannot_ be wrong! No! they _must_ be right, or such things would not be. I confess, notwithstanding, that it deeply afflicts me that such things _are_; yet how is the play of human pa.s.sions to be avoided, and how are the mischiefs of _living_ errors to be corrected? Words, arguments, morality, and religion, at the commencement of a quarrel, are exerted in vain--the storm of bad pa.s.sions carries, for a season, all before it--and after mischiefs are irretrievably perpetrated, reason and experience produce repentance, when, alas, it is useless! Princes and statesmen are too proud and powerful to permit themselves to be instructed, or I would advise them on such occasions to _doubt_ their imaginary infallibility. Let them solemnly _doubt_ whenever some mischief, which they cannot repair, must be the consequence of their decision; and when that decision may, _perchance_, arise from some mistake! But I fear this just maxim of Philosophy will never become a practical rule of policy strong enough to counteract the benefits of extended patronage enjoyed during wars by corrupt ministers; to allay the puerile love of glory cherished by weak princes; or to subdue the demoniacal pa.s.sions and irrational prejudices artfully excited by rulers, and too often cherished by infatuated nations.

I accosted a young man, who had lost both arms, and was walking pensively between the trees. After some expressions of heart-felt commisseration, I enquired by what mischance he had met with so untoward a wound? He told me that he was in the act of loading his musket, when a cannon-ball, pa.s.sing before him, carried off one arm above the elbow, and so shattered the other, that it was necessary to amputate it. He then named some paltry battle where this accident befel him; the issue of which to either of the contending parties was, as I recollected, not worth the joint of a little finger, even if the entire object of the campaign, or war, was worth so much! But, said I, you are of course well provided for in the hospital--"No, (he replied,) there is not room for me at present; but, owing to the severity of my wounds, I have a double allowance as an out-pensioner--yet, (he modestly remarked,) it may easily be supposed that even a double allowance is not enough for a man who cannot help himself in any thing--I cannot dress myself, nor even eat or drink, but am obliged to be fed like a child; I have a poor old mother who does her best for me, or"----here the young man's voice faultered, and some tears hung on his cheeks--for, alas, even these he could neither wipe away nor conceal! Parched must have been the eye that would not mingle tears with those of this poor fellow, on hearing the tale of his unchangeable fate! I found too that my own utterance sympathized with his--but, shewing him a shilling--and indicating, by signs, the difficulty I felt in putting him in possession of it--"here sir," said he, "and G.o.d bless you;" then, stooping with his mouth, I put it between his lips!--Ah, thought I, as I turned from this wretched object, the most hard-hearted of those who were concerned in breaking public treaties, and rejecting overtures for peace, would have relented, if with my feelings they had beheld this single victim of the millions that have been imolated, to the calculations of their fallible policy.

I now enquired for veterans--for Fontenoy men--Culloden men--Minden men--Quebec men! To some of the two last I was introduced; but I found them blind, deaf, maimed, and childish! What a sickening picture of human nature, whether we consider the causes, objects, or consequences! Among these h.o.a.ry and crippled heroes, I was introduced to one who is now in his hundred and first year! His name is Ardenfair, and he is a native of Dorsetshire. He entered into the Marines about the year 1744; was in Anson's action, in 1747; and in Hawke's, in 1759. This veteran sees, talks, hears, and remembers well; and it is remarkable, that he performs the daily drudgery of sweeping the gravel-walks, and wheeling water in a barrow! One wonders at the ability to perform such labour, in a Centenarian; that such a one should be allowed to be the sweeper of the hospital; and still more, that his age had not recommended him to the special bounty of the officers. It might be expected, that the successive _fathers_ of these invalids would, at all times, be exempted from ordinary duties, and receive some additional means of cheering their extension of life, so long beyond the ordinary duration.

On the north-east border of this hospital, I was shewn a new erection, nearly of the same size, devoted to the education of the children of soldiers. It is, I am told, a very interesting establishment to those who view with complacency the favourite system of Germanizing the English people--but how inadequate are all such inst.i.tutions, to repay the obligations of any government to its invalided soldiers, if ambition, prejudice, or a love of false glory, may, on light grounds, cover the earth with bleeding and mangled victims! As each of the veterans in such hospitals is often the solitary survivor of a thousand, of whom the complement have fallen premature victims of the cruel accidents of war, the authors ought not to conclude that they atone for their crimes by lodging, feeding, and cloathing the thousandth man, when he is no longer able to serve their purposes!

Mankind are, however, so selfish, that nothing but the experience or the imminent danger of great sufferings seems likely to correct the errors of governments and the infatuations of people on the subject of war. The best security of peace is, consequently, the danger that the chances of war may bring its scourges home to the fire-sides of either of the belligerents. The fears of nations have, therefore, taught them the duty of doing to each other as they would be done unto. It forms, however, a new epoch in the history of society, that, owing to their insular situation, the pa.s.sions of one great people are unchecked by this salutary fear; and public morality, in consequence, has stood in need of some new stimulus, to relieve the world from the danger of suffering interminable slaughters. What a #TEST# this new situation afforded to the powers of #Christianity#! But for twenty years, alas, Christianity has #TOTALLY FAILED#, and pretended zealots of the religion of peace and charity have been even among the most furious abettors of implacable war!

Opposite the superb terrace of the Hospital gardens, stands a tea-drinking house, called _the Red House_; and about fifty yards on the western side of it is the place at which Caesar crossed the Thames. The reader who has read Stukeley's reasons for fixing on Chertsey as the place of this celebrated pa.s.sage, may startle at the positive affirmation here made. Stukeley says that the name of Chertsey is all Caesar; so also is Chelsea, by a.n.a.logies equally natural. London, or Lyn-dyn, was then the chief town in South Britain, and would, as matter of course, be the place towards which the Britons would retreat and the Romans advance. Landing near Deal, they would cross the river at the ford nearest their place of landing, and would not be likely to march to Chertsey, if they could cross at Chelsea; and the marshes of the Thames, to which the Britons retreated, would correspond better with the marshes of Lambeth and Battersea than with the low lands near Chertsey, where the river is inconsiderable, and where there is no tide to confer strength and military character on the marshes. This ford, from the Red House to the Bank, near the scite of Ranelagh, still remains; and I have surveyed it more than once. At ordinary low water, a shoal of gravel, not three feet deep, and broad enough for ten men to walk abreast, extends across the river, except on the Surrey side, where it has been deepened by raising ballast.

Indeed, the causeway from the south bank may yet be traced at low water; so that this was doubtless a ford to the peaceful Britons, across which the British army retreated before the Romans, and across which they were doubtless followed by Caesar and the Roman legions.

The event was pregnant with such consequences to the fortunes of these islands, that the spot deserves the record of a monument, which ought to be preserved from age to age, as long as the veneration due to antiquity is cherished among us. Who could then have contemplated that the folly of Roman ambition would be the means of introducing arts among the semi-barbarous Britons, which, in eighteen hundred and forty years, or after the lapse of nearly sixty generations, would qualify Britain to become mistress of Imperial Rome; while one country would become so exalted, and the other be so debased, that the event would excite little attention, and be deemed but of secondary importance?