The Collected Writing of Thomas De Quincey, Vol. IIDe Quincey, Thomas
History
The Collected Writing of Thomas De Quincey, Vol. II
De Quincey, Thomas
De Quincey, Thomas, 1785-1859; English literature -- 19th century
However, my friend continued unvexed for a good deal more than fifty
years, enjoying that peace, external as well as internal, which,
by so eminent a title, belonged to a spirit so evangelically meek
and dovelike. I mention him chiefly for the sake of describing his
interesting house and household, so different from all which belong
to this troubled age, and his impressive style of living. The house
seemed almost monastic; and yet it stood in the centre of one of the
largest, busiest, noisiest towns in England; and the whole household
seemed to have stepped out of their places in some Vandyke, or even
some Titian, picture, from a forgotten century and another climate. On
knocking at the door, which of itself seemed an outrage to the spirit
of quietness which brooded over the place, you were received by an
ancient manservant in the sober livery which belonged traditionally
to Mr. ----'s[22] family; for he was of a gentleman's descent, and
had had the most finished education of a gentleman. This venerable old
butler put me in mind always, by his noiseless steps, of the Castle
of Indolence, where the porter or usher walked about in shoes that
were shod with felt, lest any rude echoes might be roused. An ancient
housekeeper was equally venerable, equally gentle in her deportment,
quiet in her movements, and inaudible in her tread. One or other of
these upper domestics,--for the others rarely crossed my path,--ushered
me always into some room expressing by its furniture, its pictures,
and its coloured windows, the solemn tranquillity which, for half a
century, had reigned in that mansion. Among the pictures were more
than one of St. John, the beloved apostle, by Italian masters. Neither
the features nor the expression were very wide of Mr. Clowes's own
countenance; and, had it been possible to forget the gross character
of Swedenborg's reveries, or to substitute for these fleshly dreams
the awful visions of the Apocalypse, one might have imagined easily
that the pure, saintly, and childlike evangelist had been once again
recalled to this earth, and that this most quiet of mansions was
some cell in the island of Patmos. Whence came the stained glass of
the windows I know not, and whether it were stained or painted. The
revolutions of that art are known from Horace Walpole's account; and,
nine years after this period, I found that, in Birmingham, where the
art of staining glass was chiefly practised, no trifling sum was
charged even for a vulgar lacing of no great breadth round a few
drawing-room windows, which one of my friends thought fit to introduce
as an embellishment. These windows, however, of my clerical friend were
really "_storied_ windows," having Scriptural histories represented
upon them. A crowning ornament to the library or principal room was a
sweet-toned organ, ancient, and elaborately carved in its wood-work, at
which my venerable friend readily sate down, and performed the music
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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