Hampstead.] CLARISSA HARLOWE. 461 Lovelace. The governor's wife seized the book, and the secretary waited for it, and the chief justice could not read it for tears. He acted the whole scene as he paced up and down the Athenæum Library; I daresay he could have spoken pages of the book." The following is the testimony of R. B. Haydon to the merits of "Clarissa Harlowe" as a work of fiction:-"I was never so moved by a work of genius as by Othello, except by 'Clarissa Harlowe.' I read seventeen hours a day at 'Clarissa,' and held up the book so long, leaning on my elbows in an arm-chair, that I stopped the circulation, and could not move. When Lovelace tells us in one of her epistles:-" I am at present at one Mrs. Moore's, at Hampstead. My heart misgave me at coming to this village, because I had been here with him more than once; but the coach hither was such a convenience that I knew not what to do better." She, however, is not allowed to rest quietly here, but is soon surrounded by Lovelace's tools and spies. She attempts to escape, and, making her way to the window, exclaims to the landlady-""Let me look out! Whither does that path lead to? Is there no probability of getting a coach? Cannot I steal to a neighbouring house, where I may be concealed till I can get quite away? Oh, help me, help me, ladies, or I am ruined!' Then, pausing, she asks-writes, 'Dear Belton, it is all over, and Clarissa 'Is that the way to Hendon? Is Hendon a private place? The Hampstead coach, I am told, will carry passengers thither?"" Richardson writes: "She, indeed, went on towards Hendon, passing by the sign of the 'Castle' on the Heath; then stopping, looked about her, and turned down the valley before her. Then, turning her face towards London, she seemed, by the motion of her handkerchief to her eyes, to weep; repenting (who knows?) the rash step that she had taken, and wishing herself back again. Then, continuing on a few paces, she stopped again, and, as if disliking her road, again seeming to weep, directed her course back towards Hampstead." Hannah More bears testimony to the fact that, when she was young, "Clarissa" and "Sir Charles Grandison" were the favourite reading in any English household. And her testimony to their excellence is striking. She writes: "Whatever objection may be made to them in certain respects, they contain more maxims of virtue, and more sound moral principle, than half the books called 'moral.'" At the end of a century, Macaulay tells us that the merits of "Clarissa Harlowe " were still felt and acknowledged. On one occasion he said to Thackeray: "If you have once thoroughly entered on 'Clarissa,' and are infected by it, you can't leave it. When I was in India, I passed one hot season at the hills, and there were the governorgeneral, and the secretary of the Government, and the commander-in-chief, and their wives. I had 'Clarissa' with me; and as soon as they began to read it, the whole station was in a passion of excitement about Miss Harlowe and the scoundrel lives,' I got up in a fury, and wept like an infant, and cursed Lovelace till I was exhausted. This is the triumph of genius over the imagination and heart of the readers." Richardson, by all accounts, was one of the vainest of men, and loved to talk of nothing so well as his own writings. It must be owned, however, that he had something to be vain and proud about when he wrote "Clarissa Harlowe," which at once established itself as a classic on the bookshelves of every gentleman and lady throughout England. "The great author," writes Thackeray, in his "Virginians," "was accustomed to be adored-a gentler wind never puffed mortal vanity; enraptured spinsters flung tea-leaves round him, and incensed him with the coffee-pot. Matrons kissed the slippers they had worked for him. There was a halo of virtue round his nightcap." So great is the popularity of the author of "Pamela," 'Clarissa," and "Sir Charles Grandison," that foreigners of distinction have been known to visit Hampstead, and to inquire with curiosity and wonder for the "Flask Walk," so distinguished as a scene in "Clarissa's" history, just as travellers visit the rocks of Mellerie, in order to view the localities with which they have already been familiarised in Rousseau's tale of passion. The "Lower Flask" tavern, in Flask Walk, is mentioned in "Clarissa Harlowe" as a place where second-rate persons are to be found occasionally in a swinish condition. The "Flask Inn," rebuilt in 1873, is still here, and so is Flask Walk, but both are only ghosts of their former selves! Description of the Town-Heath Street-The Baptist Chapel-Whitefield's Preaching at Hampstead-The Public Library-Romney, the PainterThe "Hollybush "-The Assembly Rooms-Agnes and Joanna Baillie-The Clock House-Branch Hill Lodge-The Fire Brigade Station -The "Lower Flask Inn"-Flask Walk-Fairs held there-The Militia Barracks-Mrs. Tennyson-Christ Church-The Wells-Concerts and Balls-Irregular Marriages-The Raffling Shops-Well Walk-John Constable-John Keats-Geological Formation of the Northern Heights. THE town of Hampstead is built on the slope of the hill leading up to the Heath, as Mr. Thorne, in his "Environs" styles it, "in an odd, sidelong, tortuous, irregular, and unconnected fashion. There are," he adds, "the fairly-broad winding High Street, and other good streets and lanes, lined with large old brick houses, within high- features in its architecture. This fabric, or rather walled enclosures, over which lean ancient trees, its predecessor on the same site, is not without its and alongside them houses small and large, with-historical reminiscences. "The Independent conout a scrap of garden, and only a very little dingy gregation at Hampstead," says Mr. Howitt, "is yard; narrow and dirty byways, courts, and pas- supposed to owe its origin to the preaching of sages, with steep flights of steps, and mean and Whitefield there in 1739, who, in his journal of crowded tenements; fragments of open green May 17, of that year, says, ' Preached, after several spaces, and again streets and lanes bordered with invitations thither, at Hampstead Heath, about shady elms and limes. On the whole, however, five miles from London. The audience was of the pleasanter and sylvan character prevails, espe- the politer sort, and I preached very near the cially west of the main street. The trees along horse course, which gave me occasion to speak the streets and lanes are the most characteristic home to the souls concerning our spiritual race. and redeeming feature of the village. Hampstead Most were attentive, but some mocked. Thus was long ago 'the place of groves,' and it retains the Word of God is either a savour of life unto its early distinction. It is the most sylvan of sub- life, or of death unto death.' The congregation urban villages." Besides these avenues or groves, experienced its share of the persecutions of those almost every part of "old Hampstead" is distin- times. The earliest mention of the chapel is 1775." guished by rows of trees, of either lime or elm, It was some time leased by Selina, Countess of planted along the broad footpaths in true boulevard Huntingdon, who relinquished her right in 1782. fashion. Mr. Howitt, in his " Northern Heights," The present fabric is called Heath Street Chapel. in writing on this subject, says: "Its old narrow roads winding under tall trees, are continually conducting to fresh and secluded places, that seem hidden from the world, and would lead you to suppose yourselves far away from London, and in some especially old-fashioned and old-world part of the country. Extensive old and lofty walls enclose the large old brick houses and grounds of what were once the great merchants' and nobles' of London; and ever and anon you are reminded of people and things which lead your recollection back to the neighbouring capital and its intruding histories." Like Tunbridge Wells and other fashionable resorts of the same kind, Hampstead was not without its inducements for the "wealthy, the idle, and sickly," who flocked thither; and "houses of entertainment and dissipation started up on all sides." The taverns had their "long-rooms" and assemblyrooms for concerts, balls, and card parties; and attached to them were tea-gardens and bowlinggreens. On the Heath races were held, as we have stated in the previous chapter; fairs were held in the Flask Walk, and the Well Walk and Church Row became the fashionable promenades of the place. But to proceed. Leaving the Lower or East Heath, with its pleasant pathways overlooking the Vale of Health, the "ponds," and the distant slopes of Highgate behind us, we descend Heath Mount and Heath Street, and so make our way into the town. On our left, as we proceed down the hill, we pass the Baptist Chapel which was built for the Rev. William Brock, about the year 1862. It is a good substantial edifice, and its two towers are noticeable In a house on the west side of High Street is the Hampstead Public Library. After undergoing many vicissitudes of fortune, this institution seems to have taken a new lease of life with the commencement of 1880. On our right, between the High Street and the Heath, lived-from 1797 to 1799, George Romney, the famous painter. He removed hither from his residence in Cavendish Square. He took great pains in constructing for himself a country house, between the "Hollybush Inn" and the Heath, with a studio adjoining. He did not derive, however, any great pleasure from his investment, for he entered the house when it was still wet, and he never enjoyed a day of good health afterwards. Allan Cunningham, in his "Lives of British Painters," says that Romney had resolved to withdraw to the pure air and retirement of Hampstead "to paint the vast historical conceptions for which all this travail had been undergone, and imagined that a new hour of glory was come;" but after a few months—a little more than a year-finding his health growing worse and worse, he made up his mind to return back to the wife whom more than a quarter of a century before he had deserted, and who nursed him carefully till his death. The great artist's studio was subsequently converted into the Assembly Rooms. These rooms were erected on the principle of a tontine; but all sorts of legal difficulties arose, and no one knows who is now the rightful owner. Here for many years-1820 to 1860 -were held, at first every month, and subsequently every quarter of a year, conversazioni, to which See Vol. IV., p. 446. the resident artistic and literary celebrities used to lend all sorts of works of art to enliven the winter evenings. The cessation of these pleasant gatherings was much regretted. About 1868 an attempt was made to revive these gatherings by means of a succession of lectures during the winter, but these also came to an end after the second season. The "Hollybush" is not at all an uncommon sign in England, and as it is generally found near to a church, we may conclude that it points back to the ancient custom-now so generally revived amongst us-of decking our houses with evergreens at Christmas. It is said that this custom is as old as the times of the Druids. 465 lady, "of all my pleasures here, dear J. will most envy me that of seeing Joanna Baillie, and of seeing her repeatedly at her home-the best point of view for all best women. She lives on Hampstead Hill, a few miles from town, in a modest house, with Miss Agnes Baillie, her only sister, a kindly and agreeable person. Miss Baillie-I write this for J., for women always like to know how one another look and dress-Miss Baillie has a wellpreserved appearance: her face has nothing of the vexed or sorrowful expression that is often so deeply stamped by a long experience of life. indicates a strong mind, great sensibility, and the benevolence that, I believe, always proceeds from The sisters Agnes and Joanna Baillie lived in it if the mental constitution be a sound one, as it the central house of a terrace consisting of three eminently is in Miss Baillie's case. She has a mansions facing the Assembly Rooms at the back pleasing figure, what we call lady-like-that is, of the "Hollybush Inn." The house is now called delicate, erect, and graceful; not the large-boned, Bolton House, and is next door but one to Wind- muscular frame of most English women. mill Hill, a name which points to the fact of a wears her own gray hair—a general fashion, by the windmill having stood there at one time. Joanna way, here, which I wish we elderly ladies of Baillie, who is well known for her "Plays on the America may have the courage and the taste to Passions," enjoyed no small fame as a poetess, and imitate; and she wears the prettiest of brown silk was the author of several plays, which were praised gowns and bonnets, fitting the beau-ideal of an old by Sir Walter Scott. Basil and De Montfort, how-lady-an ideal she might inspire, if it has no ever, were the only tragedies of Miss Joanna Baillie pre-existence. You would, of course, expect her that were performed on the London stage, though to be free from pedantry and all modes of affectaThe Family Secret was brought out with some tion; but I think you would be surprised to find success at the Edinburgh Theatre. yourself forgetting, in a domestic and confiding feeling, that you were talking with the woman whose name is best established among the female writers of her country; in short, forgetting everything but that you were in the society of a most charming private gentlewoman." In Mr. H. Crabbe Robinson's "Diary," under date of May, 1812, we find the following particulars of this amiable and accomplished lady:-"Joined Wordsworth in the Oxford Road (i.e., Oxford Street); we then got into the fields, and walked to Hampstead. . . . We met Miss Joanna Baillie, and accompanied her home. She is small in figure, and her gait is mean and shuffling; but her manners are those of a well-bred lady. She has none of the unpleasant airs too common to literary ladies. Her conversation is sensible. She possesses apparently considerable information, is prompt without being forward, and has a fixed judgment of her own, without any disposition to force it on others. Wordsworth said of her with warmth, 'If I had to present to a foreigner any one as a model of an English gentlewoman, it would be Joanna Baillie.'" Indeed, according to the testimony of all those who knew her, Joanna Baillie was a plain, simple, homely, unpretending woman, who made no effort to dazzle others, and was not easily dazzled by others. She loved her home, and she and her sister contrived to make that home for many years a centre of all that was good, as well as intellectual. "I believe," says Miss Sedgwick, an American She The Quarterly Review also gives her the credit of having borne a most tasteful and effective, though subordinate part, in that entire and wonderful revolution of the public taste in works of imagination and in literature generally, which contrasts this century with the latter half of the last. "Unversed in the ancient languages and literature, and by no means accomplished in those of her own age, or even of her own country, this remarkable woman owed it, partly to the simplicity of her Scottish education, partly to the influence of the better part of Burns's poetry, but chiefly to the spontaneous action of her own powerful genius, that she was able at once, and apparently without effort, to come forth the mistress of a masculine style of thought and diction, which constituted then, as it constitutes now, the characteristic merit of her writings, and which contributed most beneficially to the already commenced reformation of the literary principles of the century." We learn from Lockhart's 'Life," that Sir |