Retain thy gems and jewels rare,

To blaze within thy caverns' shrine;
But earth's lost children slumbering there,
Ocean, were never thine!

Give back from thine unfathomed bed,
Thou shalt not keep thy numerous dead.

A voice shall wake them from their sleep,

From thy lone depths the dead shall call ; Heaven's final thunders on the deep,

In awful wrath shall fall.
Roll on in thine unconquered sway,
Thou art the creature of a day.

When suns shall vanish from the skies,

When stars shall sink in dim decay, When with a great, portentous noise, Heaven, earth, shall pass away; The winds that sweep the swelling wave, Shall sing the dirge above thy grave.

1855]

A SOCIAL PICTURE.

165

CHAPTER VIII.

A social picture-Coleridge's Aids to Reflection-Martin's 'Last Judgment,' and other paintings-Letter to a friend on reaching his majority-Her susceptibility to the charms of nature-National sins-Coleridge's Ancient Mariner-Gilfillan's Galleries of Portraits -Bigg's Night and the Soul-On the condition of disembodied spirits-Death of her Uncle Campbell-Rev. B. Gregory-Joy amid sorrow-Dr. Channing-Gay parties-Vinet's Gospel StudiesConcluding reminiscences by Miss S. R.

THE year 1855 opened auspiciously on Miss Hessel. It brought facilities for a long purposed visit to her friend at Leeds. On Jan. 22nd she endeavours to enable Mrs. W. to realize her social felicity. "Imagine our little coterie ; good, sober, sterling Mr. R-, and his excellent wife, with a beautiful soul, sanctified and ennobled by a deep and vigorous piety, who throws all her energies into the service of her Redeemer, and might say with Elijah, 'I have been very jealous for the Lord God of Hosts,' for she is the champion of the religion of the Bible against all innovations. Then comes my gentle, high-souled, deep-thinking friend Sarah, whose inner life, with its calm depths of thought, is penetrated by few even of her friends, but in the sanctuary of whose heart I feel I have a place, won only by years of reciprocated sentiment and feeling. How much I owe to her, I can know only in eternity; but I thank God for such a friend. Then there is Mr. H with his marvellous faculty of turning everything into fun, and who entertains us with wit, satire, and puns in endless variety; and little T- who was made to be teazed by H—— and sis., and who seems to think that rather unfortunate.

She

Add to this the occasional society of a Miss G is an Irish lady; has been educated by her papa as if designed to graduate at Cambridge, and is quite scientific.

6

"Our employments are pleasantly diversified. We are taking Coleridge's 'Aids to Reflection' on the Homœopathic principle, that is, in infinitessimal doses, and endeavouring to digest it. It is a wonderful book. Many of the aphorisms were quite familiar to me, but I did not know they were Coleridge's. I should like to send Mr. W- some extracts, but have not time to copy them twice, and writing is a mild form of living martyrdom this cold weather. You shall see them when I return. We have little snatches of Miss Bremer's Homes of the New World,' a very graphic description of a tour in America, from the pen of a sensible, observant, unprejudiced woman. I like the work much better than her novels. We have a memoir of a young Mackintosh to read. The book is called the 'Earnest Student,' and Mr. H- says it reminds him of my brother John. Then Mrs. R and I read spicy bits of 'Vinet' together, and she drinks it in with an earnest sympathy which quite delights me. And lastly we have slices of literary gossip from the 'Critic.' Gilfillan's 'Portrait Gallery' is reviewed in the last number. He pleases me greatly by announcing a change of sentiment respecting Thomas Carlyle and his school. He now denounces them as the worst enemies of Christ and his religion. I wish he would take up his pen against the whole coterie in a work of some size and pretensions. He classes our friend William Macall in the same category. Macall repudiates the charge in highly indignant terms, in a letter to the editor of the 'Critic.' Nevertheless I think Gilfillan right.

"I must tell you of a treat we had last Friday at the Music Hall. We went to see Martin's celebrated pictures, 'The last Judgment;' The Plains of Heaven;' and 'The Great Day of his Wrath.' I wish I could tell you all about

1855]

MARTIN'S PAINTINGS.

167

these wonderful creations. The first is perhaps the most elaborate conception. There is the battle of Armageddon. The scene is laid in the valley of Jehoshaphat. The armies of Gog and Magog are assembled, and immense lines of railway carriages, with the names of European cities upon them, are transporting vast numbers of troops to the scene of conflict. The perspective is wonderful in all the pictures; and the idea of vastness in numbers and space astonishes you. Suddenly the blast of the Archangel announces the judgment. The destroying Angel-the boldest, grandest conception in the picture-floating on a black sea, appears with the lightning in his left hand. From between the closed fingers it darts forth in forked fiery lines on that startled host, who fall in wild confusion on the plain. The judgment throne is set; the books are opened; the angels attend; the dead are judged. The figures in the foreground are all representatives of a church, a system, or a class. The woman arrayed in purple and scarlet, and a female figure fallen by her side, with a golden-clasped bible fastened to her girdle by a string of pearls, to represent a vain attempt to unite religion and the world, are magnificently painted. Close by are numbers of false teachers, &c. On the opposite side are the good. Many of the faces in the foreground are authentic likenesses. We recognized John Bunyan, Luther, Wesley, and many others. The shadowy outline of the New Jerusalem forms the background of the picture; and innumerable companies, led by the shining ones, are trooping up the avenues that lead to it. One startling object in the foreground is a broken bridge between heaven and hell. On the right side are two or three so perilously near the precipice that it makes one think of being saved by the skin of the teeth; and we involuntarily shuddered. The sun darkened, and the moon turned into blood, are magnificently executed; at least the latter is. The colouring is gorgeous.

"The Plains of Heaven' has wonderful beauty, but it is to me most unsatisfactory. The foreground is a scene of sylvan beauty, shady avenues, luxuriant foliage, still waters, and flowers too gorgeously tinted. Cleverly enough the young angels are sporting amid these spiritualized earthly enjoyments, while the more intellectual are wandering in avenues which seem to lose their materialism, and melt into spiritual glory. In the background is a shadowy outline of that wondrous land which 'eye hath not seen.' We tried in vain to decipher those dim outlines. Art had done its utmost, and so over the whole was thrown an exquisite glow of softened glory. I wonder how the artist felt while painting that picture. I could fancy him struggling to bring out on the canvass those visions of beauty and grandeur which were only half revealed in his own soul, and throwing down the brush, saying, as I said while gazing on his work: 'I think, I feel, as if I had courage to pass through that shadow of a coming life which men call death, that I might explore what lies beyond.' Oh! how unsatisfying did that picture seem with all its glowing, wondrous beauty.

"The Great day of his Wrath' was terrific. The blackness of darkness; the lightning-cleft rocks; the multitudes hurled down the abyss; fair, womanly forms, associated with one's most vivid ideal of guilt and depravity! One face was terrific. It seemed lit up by internal fire, and the mouth and nostrils emitted a fiery sulphurous breath. Farewell to thee Martin! my spirit has held strange communion with thine while gazing on these wondrous conceptions of thy genius. So I said as I left the Music Hall.

"Critically considered, these pictures have some defects. But they are minor ones. Some of the figures are perhaps necessarily grotesque, and the grand and fanciful are sometimes in too close proximity."

Her friend Mr. B—— was thus greeted on January 31st: