time and circumstance, contains no other record of the one who has given it immortality; no papers, no documents, no scrap of his hand-writing, no table upon which his hand rested, no chair, as the master of a household often has, appropriately called his own; no room-nothing except a doubtful portrait; the very character of that dwelling changed, rendering it a whited sepulchre rather than a glorious Mausoleum where everything connected with him should be found; and where the youth of England might learn how to live and how to die for their country. And yet his presence was with us wherever we turned; the scene was so entirely his own, that he moved with us, among the old places, in the sunshine and the shade.

The view of the house opens through a long vista; a lawn of noble width, and carpeted with the richest verdure, slopes on, until lost beneath the shadows of magnificent trees, judiciously cleared so as to afford one of the richest views in the midland counties of England; the atmosphere was so transparent that the prospect over hills and into deep valleys and dark woods, and down dells, clothed in juniper, and beech, and chestnut, seemed interminable; a very empire of beauty-and of silence! It was better to picture Hampden there than within the precincts of that whited house. What a region for thoughts and works! Woe to those poor spirits who have no ideas, but those they can vent in sound! Truly the scene before us was worthy of its name; worthy to be noted from the old times to the present; worthy of its Patriot-Master; worthy to own no other lord than him whose name is as a beacon of Liberty-a sacred unquenchable fire. Here were his great thoughts conceived; here nourished; not developed rashly or flung unadvisedly to the world, but nurtured by observation and in quiet. It is only in the magnificence of silence that the soul can commune with its God! ment, (which rests upon doubtful authority,) that "at Chalgrove field his pistol burst and shattered his hand in a terrible manner;" a story which his lordship's search would seem to confirm, but which he quotes and leaves without comment. Soon after the appearance of this article in the Art-Journal the author was subjected to a severe "questioning" in the Athenæum, where the accuracy of the statement was assailed: in reply, she gave her authorities-John Martin, the Parish Clerk, and the steward of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, both of whom were present at the disinterment; she has since again visited the locality, and her impressions were confirmed by conversations with others: the point at issue-the manner of Hampden's death cannot fail to interest many-who may take up the controversy with a better grace than the author of this work; and for the facts glanced at, reference may be made to several persons of the district, whose testimony would be beyond suspicion.

The babbler knows nothing of the holiness, the uplifting, uplooking nature of this great privilege. We turned our footsteps towards the church; the clerk waited to receive us; the edifice is well cared for by the proprietor, the rector, and last, not least, the honest clerk, who looks upon it with the increasing affection begotten by the serving and tending of forty years. It is a beautiful specimen of an old English house of worship, carefully preserved; and the clerk was a fitting guide to its solemnities, thankful to be

inquired of concerning what he so much loved, but saying no word too many; speaking not at all when he saw us full of thought. The church doors were open, but extra doors of iron net-work prevented the entrance of birds or boys; by this means the fresh breezes of the Chiltern Hills passed through

* It is a primitive structure, consisting of a nave with side aisles and chancel. The pillars and arches of the nave are early English and of considerable beauty, exhibiting the purest features of the original architecture. The clerestory windows and roof are of the latest perpendicular style, merging into the Tudor.

the sanctuary, laden with the perfume of the flower-garden of Hampden's house, so that the porch and aisle were fragrant with the scent of mignonette

and clematis. Upon a young

tree planted, as the clerk told

us, near eighteen years

past, by his own hands, to live when he was gone,' a robin was rehearsing its autumn song, at intervals, as if it were too early to begin, and yet time to have it ready. The day was changing; a soft misty rain commenced, and rude gusts of wind swept through the trees, scattering the goldentinted leaves on the green grass. We were now within the porch that Hampden had so often entered; within the sanctuary in which he comImuned with his God! The pews of the church are low and open; there is no gallery, and the organ, a gift of the late Lord Buckinghamshire, is placed amongst the seats, nearly opposite the communion-table. It was a privilege to stand within the sacred temple where Hampden lies, uncenotaphed, but unforgotten; to know that we were sheltered by the same roof that covered the remains of the purest of England's patriots; the offspring of an unbroken descent from the Confessor; of a line famous in chivalry, and often entrusted with state services, yet sufficient of himself to stamp a name with the truest immortality, had all his progenitors been peasant-born. On the right hand, close to the communion-table, is the simple monument *

*The monument erected by Hampden to the memory of his wife is a plain black marble tablet in a simple frame of lighter marble, and is placed between the windows on the south wall of the chancel, close to the spot traditionally pointed out as his last resting-place.

D

inscribed with his own words to the memory of his wife; and within the rails his own remains were deposited; it was his own hand that traced the tribute to her virtues-the 'truely vertuous and pious,' the tender mother of nine hopeful children,'

'In her Pilgrimage

The staie and comfort of her neighbours,

The love and glory of a well-order'd family,

The delight and happiness of tender parents,

But a crowne of blessings to a husband

In a wife, to all an eternall paterne of goodnes

And cause of joye whilst shee was in her dissolution.'

6

Opposite to this monument in perpetuall testimony of conjugal love,' is a far more sumptuous tomb to the memory of a lesser John Hampden,* here described as xviiii. hereditary lord of great Hampden,' who, 'dying in 1754, bequeathed his estates and name to the Hon. Robert Trevor,' his kinsman by descent from Ruth, daughter of the John Hampden. Issue here failing, the heritage passed to the children of another daughter the Hobarts, Earls of Buckinghamshire, now own the house and lands of the Patriot : they own them, nothing more! This tomb is gorgeous with

:

*This monument is a characteristic example of the taste which prevailed during the last century in monumental decoration, when weeping children were so unsparingly used. In this instance we have one perched at each angle of the cenotaph. One holds a countryman's hat on a staff (an adaptation of the

armorial bearings; and contains in low relief a sculptured tablet, which describes the Patriot's fall on Chalgrove field.* A faded morion, with the crest, surmounts the tomb; and this is all that recals to us the name of Hampden in the place to which he has given eternal fame.

In memory of John Hampden, there is no monument of any kind in Hampden House, Hampden Church, or Hampden village! No single sentence has been written any where to say that here he lived, and here

was he laid in death; but for a memorial to the greatest man of a great period of British history, let us borrow an inscription from one of the humblest gravestones in the churchyard

"Praises on tombs are idly spent,

His good name is his monument!'

Yet what a host of memories were conjured up, as we stood in the chancel of that small village church, beside the vault which holds the ashes of the Patriot.

On the 25th of June, 1643,† the body, without the soul, entered this

* This portion of the upper part of the tomb is given in our cut; it is well executed in white marble, but exhibits that inattention to costume which was prevalent in the last century. The stem of the genealogical tree, and the principal shield of arms, appear above the falling figure of the Patriot: this tree, laden with shields properly emblazoned, fills the larger part of the oval tablet, and being cut in white marble, stands in bold relief from the dark-veined marble which forms the substructure.

The following is extracted from the Register of Burials, Great Hampden, 1643. It was