An American Four-In-Hand in Britain Part 10

"May I reach That purest heaven, be to other souls The cup of strength in some great agony, Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, Beget the smiles that have no cruelty-- Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, And in diffusion ever more intense.

So shall I join the choir invisible Whose music is the gladness of the world."

One thing more about our heroine, and a grand thing, said by Colonel Ingersoll. "In the court of her own conscience she sat pure as light, stainless as a star." I believe that, my dear Colonel. Why can you not give the world such gems as you are capable of, and let us alone about future things, concerning which you know no more than a new-born babe or a D.D.?

There is a good guide-book for Coventry, and there's much to tell about that city. It was once the ecclesiastical centre of England. Parliaments have sat there and great things have been done in Coventry. Many curious and valuable papers are seen in the hall. There is the order of Queen Elizabeth to her truly and well-beloved Mayor of Coventry, directing him to a.s.sist Earls Huntingdon and Shrewsbury in good charge of Mary Queen of Scots. There is a mace given by Cromwell to the corporation. You see that ruler of men could bestow maces as well as order his troopers to "take away that bauble" when the commonwealth required nursing. These and many more rare treasures are kept in an old building which is not fire-proof--a clear tempting of Providence. If I ever become so great a man as a councillor of Coventry, my maiden speech shall be upon the enormity of this offence. A councillor who carried a vote for a fire-proof building should some day reach the mayors.h.i.+p. This is a hint to our friends there.

The land question still troubles England, but even in Elizabeth's time it was thought not unconst.i.tutional to fix rents arbitrarily. Here lies an edict of Her Majesty good Queen Bess, fixing the rates for pasturage on the commons near Coventry: "For one cow per week, one penny; for one horse, two-pence." Our agriculturists should take this for a basis, a Queen Elizabeth valuation! I suppose some expert or other could figure the "fair rent" for anything, if given this basis to start upon.

[Sidenote: _Coventry Cathedral._]

The churches are very fine, the stained-gla.s.s windows excelling in some respects any we have seen, the amount of gla.s.s is so much greater. The entire end of one of the cathedral churches is filled by three immense windows reaching from floor to roof, the effect of which is very grand.

The choir of this church is not in line with the other portion of the building. In reply to my inquiry why this was so, the guide boldly a.s.sured us, with a look of surprise at our ignorance, that all cathedrals are so constructed, and that the crooked choir symbolizes the head of Christ, which is always represented leaning to one side of the cross. This idea made me s.h.i.+ver; I felt as if I should never be able to walk up the aisle of a cathedral again without an unpleasant sensation.

Thanks to a clear-headed, thorough-going young lady, who, "just didn't believe it," we soon got at the truth about cathedrals, for she proved that they are everywhere built on straight lines. This guide fitly ill.u.s.trates the danger of good men staying at home in their little island. His cathedral is crooked, and therefore all others are or should be so. Very English this. Very. There are many things still crooked in the dear old tight little isle which other lands have straightened out long ago, or rather never built crooked. Hurry up, you leader of nations in generations past! It's not your role in the world to lag behind; at least it has not been till lately, when others have "bettered your instruction." Come along, England, you are not done for; only stir yourself, and the lead is still yours. The guide was a theological student, and therefore could not be expected to have much general knowledge, but he surely should have known something about cathedrals.

It rained at Coventry during breakfast, and friend G. ventured to suggest that perhaps some of the ladies might prefer going by rail to Birmingham and join the coach there, at luncheon; but

"He did not know the stuff Of our gallant crew, so tough, On board the Charioteer O."

He was "morally sat upon," as Lucy says. Not a lady but indignantly repelled the suggestion. Even Mrs. G., a bride, and naturally somewhat in awe of her husband yet, went so far as to say "Tom is a little queer this morning."

Waterproofs and umbrellas to the front, we sallied forth from the courtyard of the Queen's in a drenching down-pour.

"But what care we how wet we be, By the coach we'll live or die."

That was the sentiment which animated our b.r.e.a.s.t.s. For my part I was very favorably situated, and I held my umbrella very low to s.h.i.+eld my fair charge the better. Of course I greatly enjoyed the first few miles under such conditions. My young lady broke into song, and I thought I caught the sense of the words, which I fondly imagined was something like this:

"For if you are under an umbrella With a very handsome fellow, It cannot matter much what the weather may be."

I asked if I had caught the words correctly, but she archly insinuated there was something in the second line that wasn't quite correct. I think, though, she was only in fun; the words were quite right, only her eyes seemed to wander in the direction of young B.

[Sidenote: _The Oxford Don._]

None of the ladies would go inside, so Joe had the compartment all to himself, and no doubt smiled at the good joke as we bowled along. Joe was dry inside, and Perry, though outside, was just the same ere we found an inn. This recalled the story of the coachman and the Oxford Don, when the latter expressed his sympathy at the condition of the former; so sorry he was so wet. "Wouldn't mind being so wet, your honor, if I weren't so _dry_." But I think R. P.'s story almost as good as that. A Don tried to explain to the coachman the operation of the telegraph as they drove along. "They take a gla.s.s about the size of an ordinary tumbler, and this they fill with a liquid resembling--ah--like--ah--"

"Anything like beer, your honor, for instance?" If Jehu didn't get his complimentary gla.s.s at the next halt, that Don was a m.u.f.f.

The rain ceased, as usual, before we had gone far, and we had a clear dry run until luncheon. We see the Black Country now, rows of little dingy houses beyond, with tall smoky chimneys vomiting smoke, mills and factories at every turn, coal pits and rolling mills and blast furnaces, the very bottomless pit itself; and such dirty, careworn children, hard-driven men, and squalid women. To think of the green lanes, the larks, the Arcadia we have just left. How can people be got to live such terrible lives as they seem condemned to here? Why do they not all run away to the green fields just beyond? Pretty rural Coventry suburbs in the morning and Birmingham at noon; the lights and shadows of human existence can rarely be brought into sharper contrast. If

"Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay"

surely better a year in Leamington than life's span in the Black Country! But do not let us forget that it is just Pittsburgh over again; nay, not even quite so bad, for that city bears the palm for dirt against the world. The fact is, however, that life in such places seems attractive to those born to rural life, and large smoky cities drain the country; but surely this may be safely attributed to necessity. With freedom to choose, one would think the rush would be the other way. The working cla.s.ses in England do not work so hard or so unceasingly as do their fellows in America. They have ten holidays to the American's one.

Neither does their climate entail such a strain upon men as ours does.

[Sidenote: _Overworked Americans._]

I remember after Vandy and I had gone round the world and were walking Pittsburgh streets, we decided that the Americans were the saddest-looking race we had seen. Life is so terribly earnest here.

Ambition spurs us all on, from him who handles the spade to him who employs thousands. We know no rest. It is different in the older lands--men rest oftener and enjoy more of what life has to give. The young Republic has some things to teach the parent land, but the elder has an important lesson to teach the younger in this respect. In this world we must learn not to lay up our treasures, but to enjoy them day by day as we travel the path we never return to. If we fail in this we shall find when we do come to the days of leisure that we have lost the taste for and the capacity to enjoy them. There are so many unfortunates cursed with plenty to retire upon, but with nothing to retire to! Sound wisdom that school-boy displayed who did not "believe in putting away for to-morrow the cake he could eat to-day." It might not be fresh on the morrow, or the cat might steal it. The cat steals many a choice bit from Americans intended for the morrow. Among the saddest of all spectacles to me is that of an elderly man occupying his last years grasping for more dollars. "The richest man in America sailing suddenly for Europe to escape business cares," said a wise Scotch gentleman to me, one morning, as he glanced over the _Times_ at breakfast. Make a note of that, my enterprising friends, and let it be recorded here that this was written before my friend Herbert Spencer preached to us the gospel of relaxation.

It has always been a.s.sumed that dirt and smoke are necessary evils in manufacturing towns, but the next generation will probably wonder how men could be induced to live under such disagreeable conditions. Many of us will live to see all the fuel which is now used in so thriftless a way converted into clean gas before it is fed to the furnaces, and thus consumed without poisoning the atmosphere with smoke, which involves at the same time so great a loss of carbon. Birmingham and Pittsburgh will some day rejoice in unsullied skies, and even London will be a clean city.

We spent the afternoon in Birmingham, and enjoyed a great treat in the Public Hall, in which there is one of the best organs of the world. It is played every Sat.u.r.day by an eminent musician, admission free. This is one of the little--no, one of the great--things done for the ma.s.ses in many cities in England, the afternoon of Sat.u.r.day being kept as a holiday everywhere.

Here is the programme for Sat.u.r.day, June 25:

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Town Hall Organ Recital.

BY MR. STIMPSON

FROM 3 TILL 4 O'CLOCK.

Programme for June 25, 1881:

1. _Overture to A Midsummer Night's Dream, Mendelssohn._

(It will only be necessary to state this descriptive Overture was written in Berlin, August 6, 1826. Shakespeare and Mendelssohn must have been kindred spirits, for surely no more poetic inspiration ever came from the pen of any musical composer than the Overture of the great German master.)

2. _Romanza, Haydn._

(This charming Movement is taken from the Symphony which Haydn wrote in 1786, for Paris, ent.i.tled "La Reine de France," and has been arranged for the organ by Mr. Best, of Liverpool.)

3. _Offertoire, in F major, Batiste._

(All the works of the French masters, Wely, Batiste, Guilmant, and Saint-Saens, if not severely cla.s.sical, have a certain grace and charm which make them acceptable to even the most prejudiced admirers of the ancient masters; and this Offertoire of Batiste is one of the most popular of his compositions.)

4. _Fugue in G minor, J. S. Bach._

(It may interest connoisseurs to know this grand Fugue was selected by the Umpires for the trial of skill when the present Organist of the Town Hall was elected.)

5. _Jaglied (Hunting Song), Schumann._

6. _Selection from the Opera "Martha" Flotow._

(The Opera from which this selection is taken was written in Vienna, in 1847, and, in conjunction with "Stradella,"

at once stamped the name of the author as one of the most popular of the dramatic composers of the present day.)

7. _Dead March in Saul, Handel._

In Memoriam, Sir Josiah Mason.

Price One Halfpenny.