Bath was divided into parties, and the celebrated William Prynne was a prominent figure in the disputes which arose. This indefatigable politician is said to have written no less than two hundred volumes, the very names of which are long since forgotten; one, called Histrio-Mastix, was to decry the amusements of the Court; and for this, and his remarks on the Queen, he incurred the fury of that party, whose severity to him does them but little credit, Almost all royal personages are, however, like Queen Elizabeth, who would endure no strictures on her conduct, however well deserved they might be. Charles the Second was fond of Bath, and paid it frequent visits, with his court; several of the court favourites and beauties have their names recorded as having, according to the custom at the baths, placed rings in the wall, in memory of the benefit they had received from the springs. Most of the old names of the streets of Bath are changed, but a few still remain; as, Stall Street, Boat Stall Street, Spurrier's Lane, Parsonage Lane, Bimberry Lane, Lock's, or Cock's Lane, and Cheap Street. All the four gates, over one of which King Bladud presided, are gone; and the beautiful old conduits, to which something like pagan honours were accustomed to be paid, have disappeared; as also the Town Hall, built after a plan of Inigo Jones's, in 1625, where once King Offa and King Edgar, the supposed and the real founders of the liberties of the city, appeared in niches, with awful majesty. Bellott's Hospital, founded by a steward of the household of Queen Elizabeth, for lepers, is perhaps the most ancient still existing; it is a long, low building, of very ugly and venerable aspect, the more conspicuous from standing near a fine modern hospital, of grand proportions. The old church of St. Mary de Stalls, belonging to the prior and monks of Bath, is now replaced by houses adjoining the pumproom piazza; and not a stone of the former edifice is to be seen, whatever may be found in the vaults under ground. The hospitals are, as may be supposed, of very ancient foundation. There is, besides Bellott's, St. John's, and The Black Alms, called also The Bimberries, supposed from two sisters of that name, who instituted it, or the hospital of St. Catherine; but the positive necessity for these, at the present time, is superseded by the General Hospital, established on very extended principles. As for the baths, so famous in Roman times, so celebrated in our own, they, at one time, seem to have fallen almost into oblivion, so mutable is fashion. Dr. Turner, in 1562, published a book on foreign and English baths, in which, in a letter, he thus names those of Bath, as a treasure forgotten : "After that I had been in Italy and Germany, and seen there divers natural baths, and was called by your father's grace, at that time Duke of Somerset, and protector of his nephew, King Edward the Sixth, into England, I heard tell that there was a natural bath in your father's dukedom. I ceased not until I got licence to go and see the same bath, and found that they were a very excellent treasure, but unworthily esteemed and judged of all men. ... I have not heard tell that any rich man hath spent upon these noble baths one groat these twenty years." Notwithstanding the representations and judicious recommenda tions of improvement suggested by this able physician, the baths remained ruined and neglected for nearly fifty years longer, when they were repaired, and new ones made. One, now called the Queen's Bath, received its name from the following circumstance :— Anne, Queen of James the First, was bathing in the King's bath, when there arose from the bottom of the cistern, just by the side of her Majesty, a flame of fire like a candle, which had no sooner ascended to the top of the water than it spread itself upon the surface into a large circle of light, and then became extinct. The Queen was so terrified that no explanation could convince her that there was no danger in this appearance, and she accordingly "betook herself to the New Bath, where there are no springs to cause the like phenomena,” and from henceforth the bath was called after her. The accounts of the state of neglect and horror into which the public baths fell after this period is appalling. Nothing could exceed the dirt and slovenliness exhibited in their neighbourhood, the baths being described as "so many bear-gardens," where people bathed indiscriminately, and "dogs, cats, pigs, and even human creatures were hurled over the rails into the water" amongst the riotous-bathers; and it was not till the nuisance became intolerable that the city petitioned the King for help, and at length established bye-laws, which being put in force in 1650, the baths and the city recovered their reputation. Queen Anne, when Princess, and out of favour with her sister the Queen, whose disposition seems to have been sufficiently petty, visited Bath, and was very popular with the citizens, who were accustomed to show her great honour, and attend her to the Abbey Church on Sundays in form. This raised the Queen's jealousy, and called forth the following letter to the mayor and corporation, which is so mean, tyrannical, and contemptible, that it goes far to prove all that the Duchess of Marlborough asserts of the character of Queen Mary:— "SIR,-The Queen has been informed, that yourself and your brethren have attended the Princess with the same respect and ceremony as have been usually paid to the royal family. Perhaps you may not have heard what occasion her Majesty has had to be displeased with the Princess; and therefore I am commanded to acquaint you, that you are not for the future to pay her Highness any such respect and ceremony, without leave from her Majesty, who does not doubt of receiving from you and your brethren this public mark of your duty. I am, &c. NOTTINGHAM." The mayor, on receiving this epistle, was in sad distress, and was obliged to have recourse to Mr. Harrington of Kelston to break the affair to the Princess, who showed great good-sense on the occasion, treating it lightly, and merely requesting them to discontinue all ceremony during her stay at Bath. When she became Queen, the citizens, anxious to repair this forced neglect, invited her to come again amongst them, which she graciously did, and was met on the borders of Somersetshire, which she approached by a road cut for the occasion from the summit of Lansdown, by a hundred young men armed and accoutred, and two hundred young females dressed as Amazons, who ushered her into the town. The same ceremony attended the visit of the Princess Amelia to Bath many years afterwards. The period when Bath was at its height of glory was in the middle of the last century, and no diminution took place for a series of years, till the change of manners which followed the French Revolution altogether altered the style of living throughout Europe. Strange is it to read such accounts as the following, of the habits of fashionable persons, about a century since : "In the morning the young lady is brought in a close chair, dressed in her bathing clothes, to the Cross Bath. There the music plays her into the water, and the women who attend her present her with a little floating dish, like a basin, into which the lady puts a handkerchief and a nosegay, and, of late, a snuffbox is added ; then she traverses the bath, if a novice, with a guide; if otherwise, by herself, and, having amused herself nearly an hour, calls for her chair and returns home. While the young lady was thus amusing herself, she seldom failed of becoming an object of admiration to some young gentleman in the gallery by the side of the bath, or of receiving those compliments which a fine glow of countenance, arising from the heat of the waters, must necessarily draw from her admirer." ... Bath has been called "a splendid melancholy city," and from its vastness, and the absence of shops in all but one quarter, it may be so; yet there is more to interest and amuse, even the gay visitor, than in most places. The shops in Milsom Street are as brilliant as those in London; and, to the invalid, the baths and pump-room can never lose their attractions. There are concerts, balls, and lectures, all well attended and well managed; and the walks and rides are charming. The railroad has injured the lower part of the town; in the neighbourhood of the two fine parades, the north and south; as the passing of carts, carriages, and omnibuses along the heavy stone paved streets renders the noise in this vicinity intolerable, particularly to invalids. Wood pavement or macadamization would at once remedy this evil, but the town is obstinate, and will not take the proper measures; consequently this charming end of the town will probably be ruined, and fall to decay. There is an idea too, that the spacious region of Pulteney Street attracts the winds from every quarter, and this magnificent range of buildings is deserted for the crescent-crowned hills, where, it is asserted, the winds are less heard than in the valleys. The baths, however, which for some years have been neglected for those of Germany, are in some degree recovering their deserved fame-a fame acknowledged by foreigners, who delight in Bath; and though it will probably always continue to experience the fluctuations which belong to fancy, the city cannot but be considered a delightful place of residence either in winter or summer. On one of the heights above Bath the ground is laid out as a cemetery, and a few ambitious-looking tombs already appear. The most remarkable is that of the author of "Vathek," who had his monument prepared during his life, and directed mottos to be placed on it, which are neither elegant, nor appropriate, nor expressive. There is, indeed, but little taste displayed in the form of the tomb, which is of polished red granite, a material of great beauty. It stands on the highest ground, and commands the pillar this eccen tric man erected on the opposite hill, to overlook Fonthill, as if he desired to be always making signals from his different places of abode; and the ruling passion remained strong in death. A most deformed object, in the shape of a top-heavy spire, on a modern Saxon tower, covered with dough-like zigzags, attached to a heavy-bodied chapel, disfigures this pretty spot, towards which the towers of the majestic abbey, rising grandly from the mass of buildings of the distant city below, seem to cast contemptuous glances of reproach. It is remarkable that this hill, chosen at hazard as the convenient site of a burial-ground, should have been formerly used for the same purpose by the Romans. This is ascertained to have been the case; for, in digging the ground, two stone coffins and some skeletons were found, and several coins of Roman emperors. Just beyond this spot is Prior Park, a domain once possessed by the famous priors of Bath, and now a Catholic college. The stone quarries, which supply materials for the buildings of the town, are in the immediate neighbourhood, and their caverns and subterranean ways are looked on with surprise and awe by the stranger, who, wandering over the fields and roads near them, is startled by the information that all the ground beneath him for miles is hollow, the quarries having supplied stone for centuries to the ancient and modern city of Bath. On the way from the Cemetery may be seen the house and grounds of Squire Weston; and what is now a garden of water-cresses was formerly the retreat where the novelist has laid his scene of the rescue of Sophia's bird by Tom Jones. The tomb of Mr. Ralph Allen, the original of Allworthy, is a picturesque object in the romantic churchyard of Claverton, where the pretty ivy-covered church still stands. BALLAD.-SLEEP ON! SLEEP ON! BY WILLIAM JONES. Sleep on! sleep on, Baby, in thy little grave; Softly o'er thee leaflets wave; Sleep on! sleep on! Lo! an angel host are near; I can feel their presence here; They are watching o'er thee now, While thy lineaments recalling. Thus the sweetest take their rest! MEMORIALS OF THE DEPARTED GREAT. BY A MIDDLE-AGED MAN. I SAID that I must think of L. E. L. Think of her! When do I not think of her? What is the street, in all that there really is, of London, (that is, west of Portland Place and south of Oxford Street,) in which her pleasant voice, her quick step, are not at some moment or other present with me? The remembrance is intermingled with a strange diversity of objects; grave and gay, attractive and revolting:-but let me not moralize, I am not old enough for that yet. She is gone! I will mix up my colours, prepare my pallet, extend my canvas, and strive to paint her as she was. Nature never made a warmer heart to beat; her affections were concentred in a few objects; but they were strong and unchangeable; in her attachments she was constant, whether they might be directed to her few relations, or to an early friend, or even to an old servant. In her likings this child of fancy was variable, and, I am apt to think, her usual regards never sank skin-deep into her heart. How could they? There were such large demands made upon her good-will; she had such dozens of very particular dear friends; such scores of admirers and worshippers;-but stop, let me not forestall; this was not when I first knew her. I saw her gradually rise into celebrity, out of a very picturesque retirement-her sojourn with an aged grandmother. I well remember the old-fashioned gentlewoman whose comforts the young poetess consulted with as minute a care as if she had herself had Mrs. Rundell for her godmother, and Dr. Kitchener for her godfather. Every habit, grown into a necessity of old age, every peculiarity, was indulged by L. E. L. with a sweetness of temper that was afterwards shaken, I cannot say changed, by the injustice and envy of society, and by a life of incessant mental exertion. It was during her residence with her grandmother that I first saw a cloud on that clear brow, and observed the sparkling eye thoughtful and downcast. It was during that period of her life that the slander which more or less pursued her through her brilliant, but oftimes, believe me, weary career, had its origin in some black heart. Thank Heaven! I have a man's privilege to swear-but of what avail is resentment now? I knew that the poisoned arrow had wounded-I saw its effects; but was it for me, a young, raw, college simpleton, to shew that I even had heard of the disgusting surmise? No! it was enough to pray to Fate that I might be indulged with the good old-fashioned weapon of a horsewhip some day-and I wish I had, too-but 'tis over now. My sisters, I know, preached prudence, above all in dress and manners; but prudence was not a part of that guileless composition. Our gifted friend defied slander, and gaily referring to the hosts of wellbred and titled dames who visited and caressed her, asked "If any one believed it?" Could any one have the heart to answer "Yes?" And yet the rumour grew and spread, and spread and grew; it ran its course underground: people were mighty civil to her face; but they inflicted on her friends the torture of hearing certain questions in her absence. Who could tell her of it? Not I-I couldn't have vexed her for the world. |