20 MARCH 1841, Page 18

L ADY CHATTERTON'S HOME SKETCHES AND FOREIGN RECOLLECTIONS.

THESE volumes are pleasing from their elegance, variety, and a certain unaffected naiveté, which argues that they are the genuine outpourings of the writer's mind and a true reflection of her cha- racter. The very faults of the book aid this effect ; for though criticism might reasonably object to the loose and unconnected nature of its structure, and mark many passages for excision, as either too egotistical or partaking too much of the character of reverie, it is probable that any change would give a craft-like air to Home Sketches and Foreign Recollections, altogether destructive of their charm. At the same time, this experiment of Lady CHATTERTON is not one that would bear many repetitions. Good thoughts well expressed, or slight likenesses of characters, or pleasant narratives of pleasant days, or fragments of journeys, with tales and traditions, are things that would soon cease to attract. Why this should be we do not know, unless that their pro- duction is easy : for we suspect that the power of giving out " shreds and patches " of excellence is far from rare—that many minds which mix much in the world, or enjoy the ad- vantages of travel, can make shrewd remarks, or write agreeable narrations upon those things that have struck them most for- cibly. But fragments will not constitute wholes ; and it is chiefly, we think, by the fitness and proportion of parts and their amalgamation into a whole that art and genius are displayed. Nature does not produce limbs, or trunks, or flowers, but plants and animals.

Although the above criticism indicates the character of Lady CHATTERTON'S volumes, it may be added that they wear the cha- racter of extracts from a diary or commonplace-book, kept by an elegant-minded woman of leisure, who is in the habit of writing clown her impressions at large, and much of what she heard or read. She begins her Sketches with a visit to a village in Hampshire, where she lived in her childhood ; and tells a story of rustic suffering which occurred there. She next goes to Richmond Park, and the old Palace ; calling up, by the aid of personification, the early glories of Edward the Third and his tristful close. Then she narrates a melancholy story of domestic life ; though the weakness if not the folly of the actors lessens the reader's sympathy ; and the catastrophe, arising from an improbable accident, is not adapted to fiction. And thus she goes on, mixing visits to places that derive their interest from her own associations, or the eminent men who resided there, with stories of every-day life and characters that have fallen under her observation. After exhausting her reminiscences of England, she crosses to Ireland, her account of which takes more of the formal shape of -a tour ; and then, after a few passing sketches of Scotland, she rambles through Germany and France, combining the matter of a traveller with several old legends or modern tales, and freely interspersing what are called " detached reflections " and " occasional thoughts" with the more real matter.

The most generally interesting parts of the work are those which relate anecdotes; good anecdote being in itself a complete whole, and containing bsides an indication of character. Here, from the visit to Richmond Park and Lord SiDMOUTH'S lodge, is a

TRAIT OF THE HOUSE OF BRUNSWICK.

In one respect the picture differs from the one I remember, and also from the original at Hampton Court : the subject is the inspection of the Tenth Hussars, the Prince of Wales's regiment, by the King. It is singular enough, that in this copy the figure of the Prince is omitted ; which was done by the King's desire, and is a striking and rather comical proof of the dislike which he felt towards his eon. When the Prince became King, he dined here, and remarked to Lord S— that his portrait had been omitted, and hinted that it ought to be restored. This, however, was evaded ; and the copy remains in its original state.

It is difficult to say whether this trait of 'WILBERFORCE was charity, or the cant of candour.

WILBERFORCE ON HUMAN FRAILTY.

How well I remember the benevolent and most cheering and encouraging countenance of Wilberforce ; and some of the words he uttered in his lively conversation made a vivid impression on my mind. What pleased me most was the wonderful spirit of charity which breathed in his every sentiment, and even the tones of his voice were full of kindness. One day the conversation happened to turn upon some of the celebrated beauties of that time. A. lady who was present censured, in a severe manner, the conduct of a beautiful Dutchess.

"Oh I" said Wilberforce, turning to the lady with a look of intense charity, "Oh, do not find so much fault with her : remember the many temptations which beset her path." Then, with an expression of sorrow and humility, he added, "I am certain that if ihad been that lovely and fascinating Dutchess, I should have acted much worse than she has done."

The following sketch from a visit to Fox's widow has an interest in the subject apart from any merit in the sketch.

ST. ANNE'S HILL.

Saturday.—Just returned from an interesting drive to St. Anne's Hill, enchanted with its owner, Mrs. Fox, widow of the great statesman. It is astonishing how averse we are to cal any celebrated character by the term Mr., or even any other title which may belong to the generality of common- place people. I have quite this feeling towards the dear old lady we this day visited.

She received us most kindly. There is an ease about her, and a spirituality in her discourse, which even such an unsocial person as myself enjoyed. She is upwards of ninety ; has a fine countenance, rather on a large scale, singularly animated eyes, in which the malicious fun of early youth still sparkles ; but this roguish expression is tempered by a broad and benevolent-looking forehead, full of good organs, and a kindly smiling mouth.

Her teeth, evidently her own, are in good preservation ; and she laughingly said she had just begun to wear her own hair. It is of a reddish auburn, mingled, but not profusely, with gray. She entered most warmly into the subject of elections and told several funny anecdotes of Tory bribery. * • •

These two rooms command one of the loveliest South of England views 1 ever beheld. The low windows open on a luxuriously-blooming parterre, in- terspersed with sloping lawns and magnificent forest-trees. In the middle distance are seen old English places, with their beautiful parks, villages, and church-steeples; and far away, blue wavy hills and wooded plains are lost in the glowing horizon.

It was one of those gleamy picturesque days which add much to the beauty of all scenery; a day on which dark masses of cloud cast a steady shade over portions of the landscape, while the bright parts are now and then dimmed by light shadows from the fleeting vapours above. There are few spots where Nature has done so much to form a beautiful site for a garden as at St. Anne's Hill ; and fewer still have been laid out by a mind so full of taste as that of Fox.

The sunny dells and shady groves, the cool mid-day seat and evening bower, seem all calculated to afford repose and enjoyment to a spirit wearied with political cares. Antique statues are placed exactly where their graceful forms

adorn the surrounding scenery, without (as is often the case in foreign gardens) disturbing the eye by a want of harmony with the scene, or indicating a love of display in the possessor.

IRISH IMPROVEMENT.

I observed several indications of improvement since I last travelled this road. The cottages now generally have chimnies, and a regular pig-sty on the outside of the house ; many, indeed, have windows, which, unstop p by a wisp of straw or an old hat, are now cheerfully fulfilling their original destina- tion, and give light to those within. Neat gardens, surrounding the house, are not of uncommon occurrence ; and the fields are in many instances enclosed with hedge-rows.

During her Irish tour, Lady CHATTERTON visited the Trappists ; and she gives a curious account of that extraordinary sect. The first qualification for a monk of an austere order would seem to be a vigorous constitution ; the next, what is called a " touch " in the head, either from remorse or some morbidness of temperament aggravated by circumstances. The material results of this self- denying and silent system, however, are very great : but we must remember that these Irish Trappists are new arrivals.

TRAPPISTS OF MONT MELLERIE.

The crops, enclosures, and planting of this extraordinary establishment, are truly wonderful, when we consider that seven years ago it was a wild moun- tain. Our wonder increased when we approached the buildings. They are of great extent, and though not finished, are advancing rapidly towards com- pletion.

We were told that the change of habits in the population of this mountain district since the establishment of the Trappists, is very remarkable. It was a notoriously lawless neighbourhood, where outlaws and stolen sheep were sure to be found. Now nothing can be more peaceable.

The results of labour, judiciously applied, must also be of immense advan- tage ; and the system of the establishment insures this application. The works of each department are directed by clever men, who by study become informed of all the recent discoveries, and are enabled thus to give the best instruction.

We were very courteously received by the Superior, who showed us all over the establishment. He has a most benevolent countenance, full of Christian humility, yet quite devoid of that cringing and servile expression I have some- times remarked in Italian monks.

He first took us through the garden ; where the only flowers they have yet cultivated were blooming over the few graves of deceased brethren. The sun was shining upon them and upon the painted glass window of the chapel near. I was struck with the idea that these poor men must enjoy a more firm con- viction of future bliss than most people. Their own daily fare is hard, and ap- parently miserable. No luxury, no ornament of any kind, is visible in those parts of the building in which they dwell. The garden, too, only contains common vegetables for their use ; but the church is highly decorated. They expend all their money, all their ingenuity, in embellishing the temple of the God they serve ; and they cause flowers to bloom on the graves of those who are gone, as if to show that real bliss can only be found in a hereafter. There are about seventy monks in the establishment, all English and Irish.. They were invited to return to France, but refused. Some of them were men of rank and fortune; but once a brother, all distinction ceases. Their dress is a white cloth robe, over it a black cape, with long ends reaching before nearly to the feet, and a pointed hood of the same dark hue. The effect of these sin- gularly-attired and silent beings in the carpenter's shop, where seven or eight were at work, was very striking: it seemed almost as if we were visiting an- other world and another race.

Strict silence towards each other is observed, and their mode of life is very severe. They rise at two o'clock every morning, both summer and winter; yet they do not partake of their first meal until eleven o'clock. They never eat meat or eggs, and have only two meals in the day. The second is at six ; and we saw what was preparing for it—brown bread, stir-about, and potatoes. The latter are boiled by steam ; and a prayer is said by the monks just before they are turned out of the huge boiler, and carried in wooden bowls to the refectory. We also visited their dairy, where they make the best butter in the neighbour- hood, by a peculiar method, in which the hand is not used. The dormitory is fitted up with a number of wooden boxes on both sides. Each box is open at the top, and contains the small bed and a crucifix, and just room enough for the brother to dress and perform his devotions. The chapel is very large; and the monks are now decorating the altar and seats with very rich carving. It is entirely done by themselves; and we were told that some of the beat carvers and gilders were rich men, who of course had never even tried to do any thing of the kind till after they became monks. It is the same, too, with those who now dig the fields, and plant potatoes, and break stones, and make mortar. With all this hard life of deprivation and labour, the monks appear happy and very healthy.