The International Monthly Magazine | Page 6

HOUSE.
[Illustration: SUMMER HOUSE IN FOX'S GARDEN.]
SUMMER HOUSE IN FOX'S GARDEN.
[Illustration: TEMPLE OF FRIENDSHIP.]
TEMPLE OF FRIENDSHIP.
Those who feel no interest in monkish chronicles, may reverence St.
Anne's Hill, because of its having been the favorite residence of
Charles James Fox, the contemporary of Pitt and Burke and Sheridan
and Grattan, at a period when men felt strongly and spoke eloquently.
The site of the house on the south-eastern site of the hill is extremely
beautiful, and it is much regretted in the neighborhood that it finds so
little favor in the heart of its present noble proprietor. The grounds are
laid out with much taste; there is a noble cedar planted by Mrs. Fox
when only the size of a wand. The statesman's widow survived her
husband more than thirty-six years, but never outlived her friends or
her faculties. There is a temple dedicated to Friendship, which was
erected to perpetuate the coming of age of one of the late Lords
Holland; on a pedestal ornamented by a vase, are inscribed some verses
by General Fitzpatrick; another placed by Mrs. Fox to mark a favorite
spot where Mr. Fox loved to muse, is enriched by a quotation from the

"Flower and the Leaf," concluded by two graceful stanzas:
"Cheerful in this sequestered bower, From all the storms of life
removed; Here Fox enjoyed his evening hour, In converse with the
friends he loved. And here these lines he oft would quote, Pleased from
his favorite poet's lay; When challenged by the warbler's note, That
breathed a song from every spray."
At the bottom of the garden is a grotto, which must have once
possessed many attractions, and above it there is a pretty little quaint
chamber that was used as a tea-room, when, according to the custom of
the time, the English drank tea by daylight; it is adorned by painted
glass windows; there are portraits of the Prince of Wales and Mr. Fox,
when both were looking their best, and the balcony in front commands
a delicious view of the surrounding country.
The peasantry are still loud in their praise of "Madam Fox;" and some
remember with gratitude the education they received at her school, and
love to tell how the old lady was drawn there at "feast times," to see
how they all looked in their new dresses. She certainly retained her
sympathy with the young, and put away the feelings and habits of old
age with a determined hand, for it is said, when she was eighty she took
lessons on the harp. The present generation remember personally
nothing of the great statesman; he has become history to us, and we
must look to history, garbled as it always is, and always will be, by the
opinions and feelings of its writers, to determine the position of Charles
James Fox in the annals of his country. Those who were admitted to his
society have written with enthusiasm of his social qualities, and bestow
equal praise on his brilliant talents, his affability of manner, and the
generosity of his disposition. He was the third son of Henry Fox,
afterwards Lord Holland, and his mother was the eldest daughter of
Charles, second Duke of Richmond, and consequently
great-granddaughter to Charles II.; the material descent is one of
blotted royalty, of which a man like Fox could not have been proud.
His academic course was unmarked by any of those honors of which
Oxford men are so ambitious, and yet, like his great rival, William Pitt,
he became a statesman before he was of age.

[Illustration: FOX'S ARBOR.]
FOX'S ARBOR.
At St. Anne's Hill he enjoyed as many intervals of repose and
tranquillity as could fall to a statesman's lot; in the time of wars and
tumults, how he must have luxuriated in its delicious quiet, surrounded
by friends who dearly loved him; and swayed only for good by the wife
who (although it is known that her early intimacy with him was such as
prevented her general recognition in society) according to the evidence
of all who knew her, was the minister only to his better thoughts and
nobler ambitions, and who weaned him from nearly all the follies and
vices which stained his youth and earlier manhood. Various causes led
to his death, before age had added infirmities to disease. He died at
Chiswick House, and his last words, addressed to Mrs. Fox were, "I die
happy." It is said he wished to be buried at Chertsey, but his remains
were interred in Westminister Abbey.
The brilliant Sheridan pronounced so elegant an eulogium on his
character, that it is pleasant to think of it in those shades where, as we
have said, he so often sought and found repose: "When Mr. Fox ceased
to live, the